- Feb 9, 2023
- 607
- 188
- 43
She trembles. Cottonsprig knows too well that the actions she has made cannot be taken away - nor would she ever want them to be. The three days she had with her little ones have since become the happiest she's ever had, and though she cannot share those moments with them any longer, she cannot fathom a realm where she never had them at all. She cannot discern her from her own mind a world wherein she would regret them. It's impossible for her.
Sunstar has commanded she audience with the stars. Her fear of retribution from the tom pales in comparison to what the stars may have for her. In truth before all of this, she hadn't an inkling of what the blessed heavens would say. As far as she is aware, not a soul has been judged by them personally. Codes have been broken, certainly, but by a medicine cat? A mouthpiece for the very starlit felines beyond them? It's an itch in her throat, but she presses on her lonely path regardless. If her leader demands it, demands she seek her punishment in glittering fields rather than by his lashing tongue... she will do it.
Her limbs fold beneath her as she finds the crest of the Moonstone. Mothermouth feels particularly unwelcoming to her in the moment, but she chalks it to her own trepidation and unease. With a deep breath, she touches her nose to the cool blue stone, releasing the tension in her shoulders. Cottonsprig finds sleep with ease, more than exhausted with her recent endeavors.
And as predicted, she opens her eyes to a garden of warmth and light. The realm of StarClan is marginally different from her memory, yet the fur on her shoulders still ruffles with a stiff breeze that finds them. There's whispering in the wind, and for a moment she recalls the first time she's ever dreamed with StarClan - how the very being of the land seemingly spoke to her. It's not different now, not visually at least, yet her claws still dig into the earthen matter beneath her paws. It's as if she knows what is to come - even though she hasn't a clue.
"Cottonsprig..." An unseen voice beckons her, but from her spot she does not budge. The breeze that caressed her moments before buffets her side, and out from the mist appears a cat she does not know. She wishes they were Heathermoon, Rattleheart, Mintshade... in truth, she wishes they were any cat that she knew, but maybe this outcome is for the better. The stars have no doubt watched her from the very beginning, seen every twist and turn of her prewritten story - while she cannot discern if StarClan operates similarly to how a normal Clan would, she figures whatever is to come from her is better given from a maw she does not know.
"You have strayed from your path, broken the trust of not only your clanmates, but us. You made a sacred vow, one that carries so much more weight than any warrior. You allowed your desires to overshadow the dedication and service you promised to WindClan and to StarClan. From now on, the starry path you walk will be one of silence and solitude."
What?
Her maw opens, but she doesn't know what to say. Her eyebrows pinch together, but as she stares at the cat, all she can feel is... distance. She returned to WindClan to uphold her vow - her child is now sick and the other two in the care of her sister instead of her. She can't even feed them anymore... is that not enough? Is StarClan not as benevolent as she formerly believed? She expects disappointment, she expects dishonor and shame. But silence, is that all she's offered? Separation from the very being she's served?
They never wanted you. Sootstar played the game for her. The cotton ball rolled in Wolfsong's path only by her mother's blood slicked paw. In the Clan, there's a cat better than her, fit for the position where she never was - yet they are now a warrior, or maybe long since dead instead. The story continues to be written long before her and will be long after. Cottonsprig's slacked jaw tenses as it closes and she offers the StarClan cat a nod.
She will not plead for her connection. She will not feign guilt or shame in the name of her beloved children. She can do just as well in her role as a medicine cat without them, she thinks - she can help raise the next generation without their help. Other cats do it, so why must she be different?
"Then so be it," she agrees, as if it is a negotiation. All at once, her eyes snap open and she's back by the Moonstone, its glow dimmed considerably. She blinks a few times, feeling the wetness on her cheeks. Cottonsprig had been crying, as if a taut thread had been yanked before severed. She almost leans forward again, as if to test the resolve of her ancestors, but instead she collects her legs beneath herself.
"I will train Celandinepaw with everything I have," she promises. Though she may not see them, she forces them to watch her. Her jaw hurts from being clenched and she shakes her head gently. "She has the privilege - the foresight... to know hardships before accepting the role. She will do well, I think," Listen to me. You will listen to me, "And I hope she is treated no differently than any other medicine cat. Forget that I train her if you must."
Her tail lashes and she dips her head respectfully towards the stone. "I will be out of your fur in time. However long it takes for Celandinepaw to feel comfortable in her new position," Cottonsprig makes a promise with ease. She didn't think it had to be made - maybe with Wolfsong's help, the golden apprentice will be taught in record time. But if Cottonsprig can help it, she's not abandoning her friend so soon.
She opens her maw again, as if there is more for her to say, but it closes seconds after. She can talk to the open air all she wants, but nothing will pull them to talk with her now. She's sealed that door shut and tossed the key as soon as she could. She scuffs her paw across the dirt and turns to leave. There is no relief in her chest, the tenseness still lying in her shoulders, as she wonders if this will be enough for Sunstar. Still, whatever he has in store for her, too, will be warranted. She refuses to not be able to grieve as a mother, should Rimekit die.
Cottonsprig would forsake a thousand StarClans, she thinks - if it means that she can simply love her children still.
Sunstar has commanded she audience with the stars. Her fear of retribution from the tom pales in comparison to what the stars may have for her. In truth before all of this, she hadn't an inkling of what the blessed heavens would say. As far as she is aware, not a soul has been judged by them personally. Codes have been broken, certainly, but by a medicine cat? A mouthpiece for the very starlit felines beyond them? It's an itch in her throat, but she presses on her lonely path regardless. If her leader demands it, demands she seek her punishment in glittering fields rather than by his lashing tongue... she will do it.
Her limbs fold beneath her as she finds the crest of the Moonstone. Mothermouth feels particularly unwelcoming to her in the moment, but she chalks it to her own trepidation and unease. With a deep breath, she touches her nose to the cool blue stone, releasing the tension in her shoulders. Cottonsprig finds sleep with ease, more than exhausted with her recent endeavors.
And as predicted, she opens her eyes to a garden of warmth and light. The realm of StarClan is marginally different from her memory, yet the fur on her shoulders still ruffles with a stiff breeze that finds them. There's whispering in the wind, and for a moment she recalls the first time she's ever dreamed with StarClan - how the very being of the land seemingly spoke to her. It's not different now, not visually at least, yet her claws still dig into the earthen matter beneath her paws. It's as if she knows what is to come - even though she hasn't a clue.
"Cottonsprig..." An unseen voice beckons her, but from her spot she does not budge. The breeze that caressed her moments before buffets her side, and out from the mist appears a cat she does not know. She wishes they were Heathermoon, Rattleheart, Mintshade... in truth, she wishes they were any cat that she knew, but maybe this outcome is for the better. The stars have no doubt watched her from the very beginning, seen every twist and turn of her prewritten story - while she cannot discern if StarClan operates similarly to how a normal Clan would, she figures whatever is to come from her is better given from a maw she does not know.
"You have strayed from your path, broken the trust of not only your clanmates, but us. You made a sacred vow, one that carries so much more weight than any warrior. You allowed your desires to overshadow the dedication and service you promised to WindClan and to StarClan. From now on, the starry path you walk will be one of silence and solitude."
What?
Her maw opens, but she doesn't know what to say. Her eyebrows pinch together, but as she stares at the cat, all she can feel is... distance. She returned to WindClan to uphold her vow - her child is now sick and the other two in the care of her sister instead of her. She can't even feed them anymore... is that not enough? Is StarClan not as benevolent as she formerly believed? She expects disappointment, she expects dishonor and shame. But silence, is that all she's offered? Separation from the very being she's served?
They never wanted you. Sootstar played the game for her. The cotton ball rolled in Wolfsong's path only by her mother's blood slicked paw. In the Clan, there's a cat better than her, fit for the position where she never was - yet they are now a warrior, or maybe long since dead instead. The story continues to be written long before her and will be long after. Cottonsprig's slacked jaw tenses as it closes and she offers the StarClan cat a nod.
She will not plead for her connection. She will not feign guilt or shame in the name of her beloved children. She can do just as well in her role as a medicine cat without them, she thinks - she can help raise the next generation without their help. Other cats do it, so why must she be different?
"Then so be it," she agrees, as if it is a negotiation. All at once, her eyes snap open and she's back by the Moonstone, its glow dimmed considerably. She blinks a few times, feeling the wetness on her cheeks. Cottonsprig had been crying, as if a taut thread had been yanked before severed. She almost leans forward again, as if to test the resolve of her ancestors, but instead she collects her legs beneath herself.
"I will train Celandinepaw with everything I have," she promises. Though she may not see them, she forces them to watch her. Her jaw hurts from being clenched and she shakes her head gently. "She has the privilege - the foresight... to know hardships before accepting the role. She will do well, I think," Listen to me. You will listen to me, "And I hope she is treated no differently than any other medicine cat. Forget that I train her if you must."
Her tail lashes and she dips her head respectfully towards the stone. "I will be out of your fur in time. However long it takes for Celandinepaw to feel comfortable in her new position," Cottonsprig makes a promise with ease. She didn't think it had to be made - maybe with Wolfsong's help, the golden apprentice will be taught in record time. But if Cottonsprig can help it, she's not abandoning her friend so soon.
She opens her maw again, as if there is more for her to say, but it closes seconds after. She can talk to the open air all she wants, but nothing will pull them to talk with her now. She's sealed that door shut and tossed the key as soon as she could. She scuffs her paw across the dirt and turns to leave. There is no relief in her chest, the tenseness still lying in her shoulders, as she wonders if this will be enough for Sunstar. Still, whatever he has in store for her, too, will be warranted. She refuses to not be able to grieve as a mother, should Rimekit die.
Cottonsprig would forsake a thousand StarClans, she thinks - if it means that she can simply love her children still.
