The river has always been home to Snakeblink. It’s where he goes to find the promise of peace and the solace of rest, the ultimate repose of an unquiet mind. It is both shelter and family: alive enough to love, and alive enough to fear.
It has taken more away from him than anything that walks upon its banks ever could; yet in its indifference it can be as giving as it is cruel. For every starving leafbare, there first came sustenance in its waters; for every loved one lost to its rage, another was protected by it; for every family lost, another found. A comfort to soothe every hurt, and pain to temper any joy.
In all his life Snakeblink has known nothing else, but even though he learned to accept the sacrifices it requires in return for its care, he has never been willing to relinquish anything easily. He can’t help but dig his teeth in: it’s in his nature to be possessive of the things he loves.
And just recently, he felt it all slipping from between his jaws. First the flooding of the camp, the loss of that security they all took for granted; then Cicadastar, their leader, their guide, his friend, plunging into the ice cold water—
There was so much to lose that day. So much that the river could have — should have — taken away. And it did: a life, even one among the many granted to Cicadastar, is no small thing to lose. That they did not lose more is a miracle— with Houndstride for a miracle worker.
Snakeblink has always been… admirative of him is not quite the right word, but he wouldn’t know how else to put it. He respects the warrior for his skill in battle, his steadfast presence in the clan, his sacrificial protectiveness of others; cares for him as a member of his clan and family; is intimidated by him and scared for him. The latter feeling has only been confirmed in his mind by this last incident, a strange and anxious fear taking root in his chest as he realizes that whereas Cicadastar’s relative survival came down to Houndstride’s speed and bravery, only the stars can be thanked for the chocolate tom’s own life.
It troubles him that a clanmate would so readily throw their life into the jaws of danger, and even more so when he cannot bring himself to regret the risk: he loves Cicadastar dearly, as does Houndstride. But although the clan demands loyalty, he doesn’t owe it his life.
He only has the one to lose.
Despite this brush with death, Snakeblink finds him on the shore, paws in the water and staring at the rushing current. After nearly seeing him drown, he would be glad to see the other tom further away from the water, but even in the depths of his overprotective instincts Snakeblink knows this to be irrational and silly. The draw of the river is too strong not to abide — and there’s no use drowning oneself into fear of the water when it is only too happy doing the drowning for you.
He hasn’t found the time, opportunity, or courage to thank Houndstride for his act — some may call it natural, the least a loyal cat could do, but Snakeblink is overwhelmingly grateful for it nonetheless. Now would be an ideal time, but as he draws up to Houndstride on silent paws, his mouth opens and closes for a long moment without any sound coming out.
”Are you… feeling up to a swim already?” He enunciates slowly, unsure whether to voice concern or encouragements — if either would be welcome at this time. He settles on an awkward middle-ground of reassurance: ”I’m sure it can only go better than last time.”
