- Jun 12, 2022
- 40
- 10
- 8
cw/ nothing explicit but some suicidal ideation and descriptions of a depressive episode
She's barely left the den since they've returned from war, cats christened ShadowClan with the blood of others. Her fur is short, so it avoids mats, but it's dull as Ash's had been when he was alive. She can't eat, and her last hunting excursion had ended horribly in a tearful breakdown far from camp.
Twilight feels like she has gone, too. That nobody has bothered to tell her yet. She is waiting for someone to say, "You're among the stars, Twilight. Your son is here."
But the only things people say are I'm sorry or Can I get you anything? Worse, most say nothing at all, avert their eyes when she walks by them. Ignore her when she does decide to speak. She's a dappled ghost among the living. She wishes she had been able to go away like one.
Twilight had once been the observant one, the cat who others went to for updates on colony life. She always knew who was pregnant, for certain--as a mother with a half-grown kit, she'd reveled in the chances to dote on babies again without being their full-time caregiver.
But Twilight has been so lost that she has not noticed the swell of her closest friend's belly. The quiet sweetness Sandra has always had replaced by something else, something the black and white molly cannot place.
She settles beside Sandra. It is only the two of them in the den--it's afternoon, and cats are hunting, building barriers. Working for Briar.
"How are you feeling?" Her voice is hoarse. But for the first time in what feels like moons, she meets another's eyes and feels seen.
@Sandylights
She's barely left the den since they've returned from war, cats christened ShadowClan with the blood of others. Her fur is short, so it avoids mats, but it's dull as Ash's had been when he was alive. She can't eat, and her last hunting excursion had ended horribly in a tearful breakdown far from camp.
Twilight feels like she has gone, too. That nobody has bothered to tell her yet. She is waiting for someone to say, "You're among the stars, Twilight. Your son is here."
But the only things people say are I'm sorry or Can I get you anything? Worse, most say nothing at all, avert their eyes when she walks by them. Ignore her when she does decide to speak. She's a dappled ghost among the living. She wishes she had been able to go away like one.
Twilight had once been the observant one, the cat who others went to for updates on colony life. She always knew who was pregnant, for certain--as a mother with a half-grown kit, she'd reveled in the chances to dote on babies again without being their full-time caregiver.
But Twilight has been so lost that she has not noticed the swell of her closest friend's belly. The quiet sweetness Sandra has always had replaced by something else, something the black and white molly cannot place.
She settles beside Sandra. It is only the two of them in the den--it's afternoon, and cats are hunting, building barriers. Working for Briar.
"How are you feeling?" Her voice is hoarse. But for the first time in what feels like moons, she meets another's eyes and feels seen.
@Sandylights
PENNED BY MARQUETTE