au clair de la lune | lemon

[honey]

Her meeting with Bumble had left her in higher spirits. While the exhaustion threatens to drag her to the darkest, deepest depths of the Earth she keeps herself up for her children. He's still around, they're still around. They hadn't fled yet, hadn't yet gone to greener pastures and a selfish part of her is in glee. The other part of her knows she should tell them to leave, especially.

And yet, that final part of her wonders about Dandelionpaw. If he had gotten his medicine cat name yet, if the Stars had been nice to him. She had loved him too, maybe not by blood but surely by name. Terrible feeling it is to leave behind everyone, everything all at once. And her sons by blood, Bumble did not hold it against her, what would Lemonpaw's reaction be? And her daughter, little Melonpaw, had her leg healed? She has to stop thinking.

Shes about to leave behind Windclan territory but theres a crunch of snow. Honey almost doesn't look behind her, content with being assassinated. Be good to your siblings. Let them know I love them. She would have let it happen truly but when it does not she swings around as if on a pivot. Eyes widen and her throat dries, moisture replacing itself in her eyes once more. Lemonpaw. Shes immediately thrown back to the pine group where she had laid besides her ex-mate, wondering what if would be like to have kits, if she'd be a horrible mother. She swallows. Maybe it came true, all the thinking was karma. Perhaps... This was the stars giving her one last chance.

"Lemon. Mon ange.... Mon fils.." she could not believe her eyes. He was tall. He had fur much like hers with swirling browns and white. "You're-" she chokes. Tears spill, shes tried so hard not to cry and now the floodgates are open. "You're okay." I love you, I love you, a lament she wants to whisper, je t'aime, je t'aime, but she does not deserve it. She will gauge his reaction first and she does not blame him if he runs.
​

"speech"​

 

[LEMONTONGUE]

Tired paws lead him to the edge of WindClan's borders, frustration heavy in his chest.

He's trying. WindClan struggles in this leaf-bare, separated by sickness, weakened by hunger. Lemonpaw is left to pick up the slack, the cinnamon tom finding himself on more hunting patrols than ever. And, it seems like each and every one finds itself a failure. As this one does now, the tom losing track of a rabbit, left to follow its trail on his own.

Being left on his own, it's nothing new. Lemonpaw was left on his own when Honeytwist was exiled, left to fend for himself and his siblings. His wall of defense only crumbled further in recent days, Pollenfur disappearing. He can only hope she's found her - that they've been reunited - wherever they are.

He misses his mother. Misses Pollenfur. Misses life when he was a kit, when his nights were spent beside his mother in the medicine den; when his slumbers were filled with the scents of burdock and chamomile. Lemonpaw knows those nights will never come back, that Honeytwist stepped down for her own good in her final days in WindClan. But still, he yearns for those days, of happier times.

Perhaps he still harbors some hurt, though. Thoughts of his mother, they're bittersweet. Because, how? How could she just leave them here? Leave them in a clan reeling from her exile, leave him feeling like he's stepping on sharp stones to survive. He doesn't understand. He doesn't know if he ever will. Lemonpaw's chances of seeing his mother again are small. Almost impossible.

He trudges through the snow, golden eyes scanning for any signs of movement. Damned rabbit. Where did it go?

Movement startles him, and the sound of it, it sounds bigger than a rabbit. Claws unsheathe

"Who's there?" he calls out. He scents the air and smells feline. A rogue? Lemonpaw doesn't want to fight them, but doesn't want to die either. Slowly, he steps forward, inching closer to the source of the sound.

And, oh, what a surprise that falls before him. Familiar twists of tabbied fur. Memory-filled eyes, two-toned in blue and yellow.

Honeytwist.

His mother.

"Mama...?" he chokes out, eyes wide as he meets her gaze. He's grown since the last time they've seen one another. No longer does he have to look up so far. "Est-ce que je suis en train de rêver?" He shakes his head, lowers his voice. Though the rest of his patrol left him out here on his own and turned to head back to camp, he doesn't know who could still be out here - he doesn't know who could be listening in.

"What are you doing here?"
​