- Jun 7, 2022
- 189
- 62
- 28
Since she'd seen the sycamore in ShadowClan's territory ignite in a twisting hot red inferno, Flickerfire's world has been a blur. The rush to save Hailpaw, the young she-cat's scruff loose between her and Pitchsun's straining jaws - the crowding under the tunnel, throat aching as honey drips like sweet, slow mucus down the back of her throat - the singed fur and whiskers, the bitterness in her heart at StarClan for wreaking havoc on them -
The Gathering had put things in perspective. A little. Flickerfire's heart had nearly ceased pounding after hearing Emberstar speak, talk about lives lost. Their territory and their Clan would have succumbed to the blaze, had RiverClan not rushed into their camp and helped others pull the survivors from the flames.
Emberstar, though, has nine lives, Flickerfire had reasoned. She'd let herself lose one quickly enough. Even if she'd lost one more, the ThunderClan leader would be fine, could keep walking another day to annoy her, to pounce and frolic along the Thunderpath like borders had never existed.
Like the two had never once been fated to kill one another.
Like the two were still enemies.
Now, though, Flickerfire knows that even nine lives do not guarantee a cat safety from eternal death. Briarstar's tattered red and black body, convulsing over and over until nothing but red I love yous bubbled from useless, still lips, her children crying over her body - that had ended all fanciful thinking Flickerfire had had about immortality being StarClan's gift.
The tortoiseshell's first horrible thought had been about Briarstar herself, the way the leader had been a stagnant figure in her life since she'd toddled furiously into the marshes after losing everything. How Briarstar, despite Flickerfire's barbed tongue and aggression, had given her a home worth fighting for.
And her second thought had been, Emberstar. Emberstar could have died like this. Emberstar could die like this.
The thought causes her body to still as though it's coated in a thin frost. The thought is tangible, and she grabs it in her mind with frantic claws and holds it as it beats its wings: She'll jump onto the Thunderpath to save someone and she'll be hit. Nothing left. Nothing even to bury. Like Briarstar.
The last thing she wants to do is cross the Thunderpath, but she has to see Emberstar. She has to. Her eyes are gleaming with scarlet desperation and her body blends with the shadows. The fumes as she crosses cause her almost to retch at the horrific memory of her leader's death, but she goes until she's stumbling about the undergrowth in ThunderClan territory. I need to see you. I need to see you before it happens to you.
The Gathering had put things in perspective. A little. Flickerfire's heart had nearly ceased pounding after hearing Emberstar speak, talk about lives lost. Their territory and their Clan would have succumbed to the blaze, had RiverClan not rushed into their camp and helped others pull the survivors from the flames.
Emberstar, though, has nine lives, Flickerfire had reasoned. She'd let herself lose one quickly enough. Even if she'd lost one more, the ThunderClan leader would be fine, could keep walking another day to annoy her, to pounce and frolic along the Thunderpath like borders had never existed.
Like the two had never once been fated to kill one another.
Like the two were still enemies.
Now, though, Flickerfire knows that even nine lives do not guarantee a cat safety from eternal death. Briarstar's tattered red and black body, convulsing over and over until nothing but red I love yous bubbled from useless, still lips, her children crying over her body - that had ended all fanciful thinking Flickerfire had had about immortality being StarClan's gift.
The tortoiseshell's first horrible thought had been about Briarstar herself, the way the leader had been a stagnant figure in her life since she'd toddled furiously into the marshes after losing everything. How Briarstar, despite Flickerfire's barbed tongue and aggression, had given her a home worth fighting for.
And her second thought had been, Emberstar. Emberstar could have died like this. Emberstar could die like this.
The thought causes her body to still as though it's coated in a thin frost. The thought is tangible, and she grabs it in her mind with frantic claws and holds it as it beats its wings: She'll jump onto the Thunderpath to save someone and she'll be hit. Nothing left. Nothing even to bury. Like Briarstar.
The last thing she wants to do is cross the Thunderpath, but she has to see Emberstar. She has to. Her eyes are gleaming with scarlet desperation and her body blends with the shadows. The fumes as she crosses cause her almost to retch at the horrific memory of her leader's death, but she goes until she's stumbling about the undergrowth in ThunderClan territory. I need to see you. I need to see you before it happens to you.
PENNED BY MARQUETTE
@emberstar