- Jun 7, 2022
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*:・゚✧*:・゚✧ Blaise, for the first time but certainly not for the last, has taken the reins and leads the colony home from the clearing. He feels as though he's entered some sort of unreality, a parallel universe where logic has become strained and different. When his paws enter their camp, he frowns and looks at it with new eyes.
It's SkyClan's camp. They are SkyClan now, keepers of the treetops, made of those who had been friends to Rain.
He turns and looks at the cats following him home, stunned at how few they seem now. Ember is not among them, of course--she had gone to the oak forest, her own small but spirited group tagging along with her. Others had gone to the river, to the moors, back to the marshes with Briar.
Things are different now, so different that the enormity of the situation threatens to swallow him whole.
"Welcome to SkyClan," he says and tries for a smile. He knows some pelts will be spiked at his presumptuousness. He himself is stunned that he did what he did--had taken the rock, proclaimed himself Rain's successor.
Who had taken over him? Was that Blaise really inside, waiting to come out?
The flame point looks at the cats who chose to return home with him with blatant anxiety. He is no leader. He's a kittypet. And yet here he is. Here they are. He's fulfilled the prophecy of what the marsh cats had always called them--led by kittypets. He wonders how the rest of them feel about all that had occurred. Are they scared, stunned, as he is?
It's SkyClan's camp. They are SkyClan now, keepers of the treetops, made of those who had been friends to Rain.
He turns and looks at the cats following him home, stunned at how few they seem now. Ember is not among them, of course--she had gone to the oak forest, her own small but spirited group tagging along with her. Others had gone to the river, to the moors, back to the marshes with Briar.
Things are different now, so different that the enormity of the situation threatens to swallow him whole.
"Welcome to SkyClan," he says and tries for a smile. He knows some pelts will be spiked at his presumptuousness. He himself is stunned that he did what he did--had taken the rock, proclaimed himself Rain's successor.
Who had taken over him? Was that Blaise really inside, waiting to come out?
The flame point looks at the cats who chose to return home with him with blatant anxiety. He is no leader. He's a kittypet. And yet here he is. Here they are. He's fulfilled the prophecy of what the marsh cats had always called them--led by kittypets. He wonders how the rest of them feel about all that had occurred. Are they scared, stunned, as he is?