- Jun 7, 2022
- 418
- 150
- 43
It has been too many days. Too many sunrises and sunsets, and they all have been bland, dull, unimportant to him. Nothing matters anymore, because he can’t see those eyes bright against the sun’s rays, that pelt glistening with droplets of water, that smile all handsome and charming and… he’s crying again, yeah. Feels like he never stopped.
He’s dragged himself out of camp in the quiet of the night, bugs shrieking around him providing the only noise in the background. The grave is fresh, dirt not yet settled on top of the body—he wonders how long it will be before grass begins to grow, before the dirt flattens along with the land around it. The wound across his chest, barely scabbed over, twinges as he settles onto his haunches with a half-choked sob.
It’s awful. Life is hardly worth living anymore. He feels pathetic, childish even, for having to send his own apprentice out to train with another warrior even for only a couple days, for having to be forced to eat his meals like a rebellious, tantrum-throwing kit. For being one of the least injured of his clanmates, but still being unable—unwilling—to even lift his head most of the time. He hasn’t even suffered the greatest loss out of everyone; he feels horribly selfish.
And after it all, he hasn’t even been able to protect their sunningrocks, the place where they had decided—belatedly—to become mates. To love one another for the rest of their lives.
If only they knew how short a time they had.
He hands his head, white chin settling just above his chest wound. "I’m sorry. I’m so… so damned sorry." It should have been anyone him. It should have been anyone else but Clearsight, whose support so many relied on. Clearsight, whose absence has left a hole in the entire clan’s hearts. Clearsight, who gave his life for his clan. He didn’t deserve this. He deserved happiness more than Clay was able to give him while he lived.
His face tilts to the sky, the stars above. The other cats have talked about his mate going to StarClan, as though that will bring any comfort to him, to know that he’s still around in some way. It doesn’t, but the effort is appreciated at least. Now, more than anything, he hopes that it is all true. That his love is looking down upon him even now.
Or, like, maybe not right now because there are tears cutting streaks down his face and he looks like a total mess—but it is nice to know that he might see his love again.
He’s dragged himself out of camp in the quiet of the night, bugs shrieking around him providing the only noise in the background. The grave is fresh, dirt not yet settled on top of the body—he wonders how long it will be before grass begins to grow, before the dirt flattens along with the land around it. The wound across his chest, barely scabbed over, twinges as he settles onto his haunches with a half-choked sob.
It’s awful. Life is hardly worth living anymore. He feels pathetic, childish even, for having to send his own apprentice out to train with another warrior even for only a couple days, for having to be forced to eat his meals like a rebellious, tantrum-throwing kit. For being one of the least injured of his clanmates, but still being unable—unwilling—to even lift his head most of the time. He hasn’t even suffered the greatest loss out of everyone; he feels horribly selfish.
And after it all, he hasn’t even been able to protect their sunningrocks, the place where they had decided—belatedly—to become mates. To love one another for the rest of their lives.
If only they knew how short a time they had.
He hands his head, white chin settling just above his chest wound. "I’m sorry. I’m so… so damned sorry." It should have been anyone him. It should have been anyone else but Clearsight, whose support so many relied on. Clearsight, whose absence has left a hole in the entire clan’s hearts. Clearsight, who gave his life for his clan. He didn’t deserve this. He deserved happiness more than Clay was able to give him while he lived.
His face tilts to the sky, the stars above. The other cats have talked about his mate going to StarClan, as though that will bring any comfort to him, to know that he’s still around in some way. It doesn’t, but the effort is appreciated at least. Now, more than anything, he hopes that it is all true. That his love is looking down upon him even now.
Or, like, maybe not right now because there are tears cutting streaks down his face and he looks like a total mess—but it is nice to know that he might see his love again.
[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]