- Feb 9, 2023
- 476
- 161
- 43
She shouldn't be surprised. Beyond the territories of the Clans, the stars still shine. Of course they did - they existed before the cats of the forests, and they will be for long after. But on nights that she is uncomfortable, unable to sleep for one reason or another... She stares up at them. Do you see me? She wonders, but cannot ask. She thinks of her father, then her mother. Do you wish you couldn't? Curses for a curse to bear. Lies for a liar to behold.
Cottonsprig does not weep. She rests her muzzle on her paws and lingers in her silence. The pain in her heart is immeasurable, but the days that've bore on have numbed her to it. She may never see her friends again, her family - all for the sake of tiny lives that someone else dictated for her to never have. Someone else. Someone else's will and whim, someone else's pen to draw up her story with. Her only decision making power has lead her here and perhaps out of spite she cannot find distaste with that decision.
"Heathermoon," she breathes into the open air. Her gaze falls backwards, towards Peonybreeze's sleeping form. He does not stir with her voice, and she does not fear if he does. And yet still, she keeps her words quiet. A mouse's whisper, even.
"Should you hear me from here..." what? He cannot speak with her without the moonstone, and that is a far walk in her state. The wind does not blow with his breath, nor will his efforts send a fat rabbit into her paws. She trembles for a moment, tucking her tail close to her body. She wants to make herself so infinitesimally small that an ant could not see her - but she can't. And the conversation tapers, her maw hidden by her paws as she mulls over her thoughts. Eventually, she continues.
"... Know that I hurt. But I do not regret it." A pause. She lifts her head, to the stars above her. No clouds obscure her vision tonight. "Know that I have done unto myself and others a hurt that I cannot undo but - it is a necessary evil, one that I would not take back even if I could. Perhaps - perhaps to be a mother is to harbor some sort of selfish darkness inside one's self. My heart will scream, my soul will tear, and my body will bleed for my kits. They are a part of me, Heathermoon - and always will be. And if a child of mine grows to be a mother one day... I hope to not begrudge her for the selfishness that I gifted her. I hope that in our time together I may part with pieces of me that she does not learn to shame. I- I..."
A tear rolls down her cheek. Her eyes have been watering, her throat hurts but she does not sob. She turns her gaze to her rounded stomach, her tail ruffling the fur that lines it. Her jaw tenses, "My world m-may be crashing down but... I will hold it together for you. I will not apologize for the life you will live because- because I will give you everything I have. I -" an abrupt stop. Her body feels too cold, a shiver racing down her spine. Her eyes focus on her stomach for another second.
"Don't do that," she whimpers. Cottonsprig curls a little tighter, trying to bring her nose to her belly. Kick. She sobs, "No - no, you can't do that. Not - stars... Not now. There's no one but me here. Peony -" His flank rises and falls with ease, but she can see his injuries healed into scars, his bones and rip cage from not eating enough. She feels sick knowing that most of what he catches goes to her. He wouldn't call himself selfless - just repaying a favor. "He's asleep. Can't you wait until -" Kick. Her voice tapers off pathetically. "Stop it..." she cries into her flank, quietly relishing in the movement despite feeling so terribly alone in the moment.
She can't be happy. Her children kick for the sound of her voice, and there is no thrill or excitement. Only loneliness and the knowledge that she may impart suffering onto her children, too.
"Settle with me for the night, little ones," she murmurs, a crying promise to those unborn within her and to the stars, should they still listen. The darkness, too, who prays on the edges of doorways, waiting for their moment to strike. "The horseplace... We will venture there soon. I..." Is she giving up that easily? With all this trouble, with all this heartache, will she really return as if the difficulty is too much? Queens kit alone in the wilderness too often as it is and yet the idea of experiencing common phenomena such as her kits moving just about breaks her. She swallows the painful lump in her throat, her gaze falling forward again.
She can't do it. She needs help - more than what Peonybreeze can offer her. More than what she can take from him, actually.
"I'll figure it out."
Cottonsprig does not weep. She rests her muzzle on her paws and lingers in her silence. The pain in her heart is immeasurable, but the days that've bore on have numbed her to it. She may never see her friends again, her family - all for the sake of tiny lives that someone else dictated for her to never have. Someone else. Someone else's will and whim, someone else's pen to draw up her story with. Her only decision making power has lead her here and perhaps out of spite she cannot find distaste with that decision.
"Heathermoon," she breathes into the open air. Her gaze falls backwards, towards Peonybreeze's sleeping form. He does not stir with her voice, and she does not fear if he does. And yet still, she keeps her words quiet. A mouse's whisper, even.
"Should you hear me from here..." what? He cannot speak with her without the moonstone, and that is a far walk in her state. The wind does not blow with his breath, nor will his efforts send a fat rabbit into her paws. She trembles for a moment, tucking her tail close to her body. She wants to make herself so infinitesimally small that an ant could not see her - but she can't. And the conversation tapers, her maw hidden by her paws as she mulls over her thoughts. Eventually, she continues.
"... Know that I hurt. But I do not regret it." A pause. She lifts her head, to the stars above her. No clouds obscure her vision tonight. "Know that I have done unto myself and others a hurt that I cannot undo but - it is a necessary evil, one that I would not take back even if I could. Perhaps - perhaps to be a mother is to harbor some sort of selfish darkness inside one's self. My heart will scream, my soul will tear, and my body will bleed for my kits. They are a part of me, Heathermoon - and always will be. And if a child of mine grows to be a mother one day... I hope to not begrudge her for the selfishness that I gifted her. I hope that in our time together I may part with pieces of me that she does not learn to shame. I- I..."
A tear rolls down her cheek. Her eyes have been watering, her throat hurts but she does not sob. She turns her gaze to her rounded stomach, her tail ruffling the fur that lines it. Her jaw tenses, "My world m-may be crashing down but... I will hold it together for you. I will not apologize for the life you will live because- because I will give you everything I have. I -" an abrupt stop. Her body feels too cold, a shiver racing down her spine. Her eyes focus on her stomach for another second.
"Don't do that," she whimpers. Cottonsprig curls a little tighter, trying to bring her nose to her belly. Kick. She sobs, "No - no, you can't do that. Not - stars... Not now. There's no one but me here. Peony -" His flank rises and falls with ease, but she can see his injuries healed into scars, his bones and rip cage from not eating enough. She feels sick knowing that most of what he catches goes to her. He wouldn't call himself selfless - just repaying a favor. "He's asleep. Can't you wait until -" Kick. Her voice tapers off pathetically. "Stop it..." she cries into her flank, quietly relishing in the movement despite feeling so terribly alone in the moment.
She can't be happy. Her children kick for the sound of her voice, and there is no thrill or excitement. Only loneliness and the knowledge that she may impart suffering onto her children, too.
"Settle with me for the night, little ones," she murmurs, a crying promise to those unborn within her and to the stars, should they still listen. The darkness, too, who prays on the edges of doorways, waiting for their moment to strike. "The horseplace... We will venture there soon. I..." Is she giving up that easily? With all this trouble, with all this heartache, will she really return as if the difficulty is too much? Queens kit alone in the wilderness too often as it is and yet the idea of experiencing common phenomena such as her kits moving just about breaks her. She swallows the painful lump in her throat, her gaze falling forward again.
She can't do it. She needs help - more than what Peonybreeze can offer her. More than what she can take from him, actually.
"I'll figure it out."
