- Jun 20, 2022
- 113
- 50
- 28
( ♬ ) This is not her home anymore, and the wind is whispering her name.
In times of distress, Pollenfur has always abandoned WindClan's camp, paws rambling through familiar fields of heather, trembling and alone under a stark night sky.
Once, she'd walked beneath these stars with a woman. Kind, selfless, driven to madness and exhaustion by a Clan that pushed her over the edge. The dedication she'd shown StarClan had been punished -- ruthlessly -- and now, her companion is lost to her, as lost to her as her mother is.
Once, a friend had come to seek her in her grieving solitude, lined silver face illuminated by the moon. A friend who wore a scar, who had bled her loyalty to a merciless queen who pushed her aside once she'd lost her militaristic drive. Gone, too, taken from her.
To love is to hurt. She'd known this her whole life, though it's a sentiment she's kept to herself. Her father had been killed by the very tunnels they'd made their home in; her mother, in her sorrow, had taken a path that had led her from her children; the father of Brightshine's kits had disappeared, never to be seen again. Honeytwist. Hyacinthbreath.
She's finally learned her lesson. And though she cannot correct a stupidly still-beating heart, she can kiss the moorland beneath her goodbye. StarClan, if you are real, if you are listening, please protect my kin. Watch over my sister, her daughter, those kits. Watch over Mallowlark. Lead me to those I've lost, and I'll repay you someday.
She's slipped through the gorse tunnel, silent tears streaming from her eyes. She won't look back at the nest she's abandoned, at what remains of her family. She prays there will be a day where madness no longer reigns over their moors, a day where she can meet them again.
I pray your kits do not forget me, Echo, she thinks. The water freezes in her lashes, on her cheeks. I will be to them what Ember is: a story, a tale of caution.
One thing is for sure -- Pollenfur will not return to WindClan. She will not bend her knee to a cat claiming leadership over the land that should be free to them all. Never again.
The road is lonely, and long, but she walks it as she always has: with her head full of dreams, with her heart full of longing.
( THERE AIN'T NOTHING HERE FOR ME ANYMORE ; BUT I DON'T WANNA BE ALONE )In times of distress, Pollenfur has always abandoned WindClan's camp, paws rambling through familiar fields of heather, trembling and alone under a stark night sky.
Once, she'd walked beneath these stars with a woman. Kind, selfless, driven to madness and exhaustion by a Clan that pushed her over the edge. The dedication she'd shown StarClan had been punished -- ruthlessly -- and now, her companion is lost to her, as lost to her as her mother is.
Once, a friend had come to seek her in her grieving solitude, lined silver face illuminated by the moon. A friend who wore a scar, who had bled her loyalty to a merciless queen who pushed her aside once she'd lost her militaristic drive. Gone, too, taken from her.
To love is to hurt. She'd known this her whole life, though it's a sentiment she's kept to herself. Her father had been killed by the very tunnels they'd made their home in; her mother, in her sorrow, had taken a path that had led her from her children; the father of Brightshine's kits had disappeared, never to be seen again. Honeytwist. Hyacinthbreath.
She's finally learned her lesson. And though she cannot correct a stupidly still-beating heart, she can kiss the moorland beneath her goodbye. StarClan, if you are real, if you are listening, please protect my kin. Watch over my sister, her daughter, those kits. Watch over Mallowlark. Lead me to those I've lost, and I'll repay you someday.
She's slipped through the gorse tunnel, silent tears streaming from her eyes. She won't look back at the nest she's abandoned, at what remains of her family. She prays there will be a day where madness no longer reigns over their moors, a day where she can meet them again.
I pray your kits do not forget me, Echo, she thinks. The water freezes in her lashes, on her cheeks. I will be to them what Ember is: a story, a tale of caution.
One thing is for sure -- Pollenfur will not return to WindClan. She will not bend her knee to a cat claiming leadership over the land that should be free to them all. Never again.
The road is lonely, and long, but she walks it as she always has: with her head full of dreams, with her heart full of longing.
