I SEE SMOKE UP AHEAD | needledrift

[FERNDANCE]

There had always been something so comforting about the powerlessness to control one's life, to be controlled by the gentle-flowing wind had been so much less stressful than fully being aware of one's choices. Yet there was one thing the cinnamon tabby had not wanted to be powerless over, and as the swamp swallowed up more and more of Needledrift's happiness, she regretted every day she was not able to make her love smile as she'd done before. She hadn't heard Starlingheart or Marblepaw say it, but it was as if Needledrift was afflicted with a disease, perhaps not as deadly as ones that ShadowClan had known before, but just as miserable and worrying. Once she had seen it, she had done her best to groom the other's fur and bring her prey, but guilt unsettled her free-spirit, a constant nagging within the back of her mind about whether she could've done more to help... or should've recognised it sooner instead of being carefree.

She didn't like these regrets. She had let Sprucepaw down, now, she had let her mate down too.

But all was not lost. Fate had given Needledrift a chance to see the sunrise, and it could be Fern's words that parted the cloud. That was what she hoped, no, prayed for - that it would be enough to see Needledrift happy again.

As a red hue began to form over the pine forest's sky, Ferndance slipped into the warrior's den, dangling a modest frog from her maw. She awkwardly moved past her half of the nest (even now, it dotted with so many trinkets and doodahs that oftentimes she slept on her wife's side of the nest) and peered over a mountain of leaves and Twoleg things to where a little grey and white figure was curled up. She carefully dropped the amphibian by Needledrift's paws and gently nudged her wife awake, hoping to snap her out of her stupor for just a moment.

"Snowypaw is alive." There was no time for 'heys' or 'how are yous', she couldn't wait any longer to deliver the news. "She's a RiverClan warrior now. Splashdance... Splashdance they called her." An excitement only muted by the tabby's naturally hushed tone filled her chirps. "She was at the gathering... she really is alive." The warrior forced herself to wait, jaws snapping shut and a wide smile upon her muzzle as she waited to hear Needle's reaction.

/ @Needledrift
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[Needledrift]

☾ TW: emetophobia (spoiled), severe depression, anger towards a romantic partner, insinuations of cheating, mentions of death, descriptions of self-neglect

Dark clouds drifted in and out of her vision, that hazy form of sleep (restless, uncomfortable, and satisfying) evading her by a whisker each time she reached out to embrace it. What was meant to be silent turned to faint humming in the early leaf-fall gloom - maybe some lost cicada, or maybe just her own mind aiming to fill the void where Ferndance’s breathing usually was, but either way it only contributed to the frustration of not being able to sleep.

Maybe she had just slept too much. Her last two moons had largely been spent inside, her tail curled up to her nose, her green eyes crusted over as she slid from dream to senseless dream, avoiding the camp and the days spent with no Chilledstar, no Smogstar, no Snowypaw… What joy ShadowClan had once brought her had turned to ash in her mouth, tasteless and dry, a grim reminder of the fate she now supposed they always had.

(Was that not why the forest fire had ravaged them all those seasons ago?)

(Was that not why StarClan sent bears upon their camp?)

Curses. Cursed. She had never believed them to be cursed before - perhaps simply unlucky - but now… now, she had to wonder what they had done (what she had done?) to anger StarClan so. Surely, their misfortune was not merely based upon the unfairness of those ill-fated few?

By the time dawn began to peek over the horizon, dark clouds had shifted to pinkish fog, coloring her vision in blush and rose. Outlined by that fuzzy stupor, Ferndance was that dawning sun to her gloomy morning, a frog in tow on the off-chance that the sleep-forgotten woman might want to eat. A quiet, sweet gesture that Needledrift made no advances towards.

She blinked blearily at her mate, that hurricane-scowl deepening the lines that had taken residence on her face (each had a name now: hunger, exhaustion, depression, alongside their address below her eyes.) Snowypaw, the tabby had breathed, … she’s a RiverClan warrior now.

“RiverClan?” Needledrift echoed, and now Confusion settled in beside Exhaustion. “No… no, that’s not right. Snow, snow… lost in the snow… lost in…” A little black kitten, caul freshly set away, trembling in closest to the snow littered with red and pink and mother’s fear. A little black apprentice, playing with her siblings - me first! Let me see them! I’m gonna be the favorite sister! A little freckled warrior, a world away from her mothers… no, it didn’t make sense.

Hazily, drunkenly, did the realization come. Splashdance, they had named her. Splash, for the river, for her eyes, for her -

father.

Needledrift’s expression hardened into stone. Pikesplash: her mate’s rendezvous lover, as spirited and as fleeting as her own unspoken tryst had been. Pikesplash, whose delicate silver paws had never cradled their secretly shared daughter’s head as a babe, who had not taught her how to hunt for snails or how to eat swamp hare or how to gently collect the mushrooms her baby brother had been named for. Pikesplash, who for all intents and purposes did not exist in jealousy or envy in Needledrift’s sober, waking mind. But the storm raged on and jagged bolts of lightning alighted her nerves, and that summer flood washed over her more sensible thoughts. She had been named for Pikesplash - the RiverClan father that had barely existed until now.

“He took my baby…” the little she-cat rasped, quietly, but oh so loudly. Too loudly, too harshly to be her true voice. Her stomach churned at the awful thought, at the cruelty that had sprung from too much time thinking and not enough time sleeping or eating. Water dripped from her muzzle (the flooding finally broke the dam?): drool that came from a too-open, ready-to-vomit mouth. “My little girl… did you know?”

Green eyes, suddenly clearer, sharp as flint, turn accusatory towards Ferndance’s softer sage (how could she know? Why would she act so happy, so relieved if she had kno-) “Did you give our baby to them? To him? Was she an offering? Is my daughter your bargaining chip to keep your affair in good standings?”

One paw strikes out at the frog offered, lily-white claws catching on the smooth skin, trapping the gift against her pads. Needledrift let out a screech of frustration and shook her paw, shaking the thing off to land between them once more with a dull wump. Tears had begun to fall somewhere in the angry haze between realization and outburst, tears that turned to sobs that turned to body-wracking spasms.

“My - my - my - my baby,” the words both could not, would not, shouldn’t possibly come, not when thorns still wrapped themselves around her tongue, and she hiccupped between each syllable as if to try to dislodge them. “They ca-an’t … she ne-e-e-eds… I-i’m he-e-er mother!”

As quickly as it had fronted, the storm began to abate, and hurricane-tears turned to genuine sadness, that mother’s heartache that had wracked her body the first time she had heard of Snowypaw’s disappearance - not the depression that had clouded her mind and flooded her thoughts, but stinging sorrow that could not be felt in the numbing fog. For the first time this season, Needledrift was able to cry.

”I-i-i’m sor-ry, I didn- mean -” Hiccup. ”I’m so- ti-i-i-red. I’m -” Sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, please forgive me, please forget that, please, please please please please ”I just want to-to- see - her. I miss her so-so muc-ch.”
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[FERNDANCE]

Emerald eyes grew wider as Needledrift showed no signs of elation for such news, a pang of regret in her gut that even that had not been enough to let the other smile. Her own mirth disappeared as her maw began to gape, watching Needledrift process the news and process it poorly. He took my baby, she declared, and the she-cat's forepaws pressed onto the earth.

"He didn't Needledrift, he—" Though the she-cat's voice was raised from her panic, like the squeaks of a mouse, it was snuffed out all the same by Needledrift's bite. Accusations flew left and right, so swift that by the time she comprehended one, another had taken its place. Her ears slowly flattened and flattened until they touched the pale ruff of fur around her neck, feeling her joy and hope crumble to ash before her very eyes. Ferndance flinched back at the outraged screech, her tail tucked between her legs as she contemplated fleeing the nest. It would be too easy to run away from this, to pretend that it never happened, to go back to the way things were - but to do so would be betraying herself and the cat she loved. She didn't have the chance to say that she was being unfair before it was over.

She had known. She'd known all along. But there was no way to say anything, not without ruining what they had left. Maybe it was selfish to hide such a truth, or maybe, she was just trying to be the one thing going well in Needledrift's life, the one consistent that would not disappear or die... was that still selfish? Ferndance couldn't answer, and she doubted StarClan could either.

The tempest settled and in its place came wailing, the anxiety in Ferndance's belly turning to pity once more. Tentatively, she moved closer to the warrior, crawling on her belly until she could crane over enough to rest her head upon the back of Needle's neck. The touch was gentle, easy to shake off as if it were the prey she'd given Needle; affection freely given now needed permission from the other. Ferndance's breathing was laboured as she looked towards the entrance of the den, wondering who had heard, wondering who would come to investigate, if any.

"I don't think she joined RiverClan to be with her dad..." she whispered. "I think she would've joined anywhere... if it meant being away from ShadowClan. RiverClan just offered her the best excuse." Ferndance didn't know if that particular truth would make things better or worse, either way, she felt compelled to share it. Needledrift had known what the tabby had endured before, during, and after birth. "But... I don't think it had anything to do with us. This clan... we know what it's like even if we love it. Look what it's done to you bug..." She risked licking a space between Needledrift's ears, wrinkling her nostrils at the oily aftertaste.

She moved her head away, letting Needledrift look into her eyes if she could see past the tears. The blue she-cat deserved to know that the lackadaisical she-cat was making no attempts at a false promise here. "You will see her again. I'll talk to Mirestar, we can see if they'll let you go to every damn gathering you need to until Splashdance shows up again."


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[Needledrift]

☾ "StarClan has a debt to be paid upon me," She managed raggedly after several painful gulps of air. Or ShadowClan itself, maybe, but her certainly. The cat that should've perished in the Great War alongside her father and brother, the ghost that got away and clung onto life by frog eggs and snail slime. She could feel drool trickle down the side of her semi-open mouth, a grim reminder that under any other circumstance, she should not have survived. Maybe she should've been taken instead of her mother, her father, or Briarstar. Did StarClan seek her out with the plague, only to catch Heavybranch in her place? Did they want for her during the journey, instead striking down Little Wolf in her place?

No, no, it wasn't ShadowClan that made her unhappy, it could not be possible (but if it was ShadowClan... would it be the hunger, the anger, the deceit, or the mistreatment of her mate that made her so ill? all of it at once?) Surely, it was some cosmic punishment that she would have to face one day instead of the cats that had come before her (in her stead?)

Warmth did not spread from to tail-tip as it once did at Ferndance's touch, but Needledrift allowed herself to lean into her mate's wiry frame regardless. Her eyes half-lidded, her ears flattened, she hiccuped again; her body slumped rather than settled. "Do you think Mirestar will let me out of camp looking like.... this..." She gestured limply to her dull coat and lightly matted chest fur. "I feel... gross." Unseemly.

She spared a glance at her wife, mint on emerald for just a moment. "Do you think she'll even want to see me? She... she didn't even let me say goodbye."​

 

[FERNDANCE]

"I don't believe that..." Nature was cruel and uncaring, one could be a saint or a sinner and they would meet their end and reunite amidst the stars. She viewed StarClan to be just as unfeeling as the cold earth they walked upon, another territory devoid of the logic that could make one want revenge or a debt to be paid. Perhaps that was why it'd been so easy for her to neglect the code; never did it feel like a rule of nature to avoid playing with one's food or letting one's heart soar where it wished, only a rule of the clans that lived among it. Yet, she needed to find a balance between law and chaos to be happy and thrive in a home that had once ostracised her. Nature might not have cared, but ShadowClan certainly did, some things were worth caring about, while others were pedantic and unnecessary. They may have helped cause this pain, but now, they seemed adamant about fixing it.

The tension left her body as Needledrift leaned into her, her emerald eyes slowly tracing the mats and grime running down her mate's fur. A paw touched a particularly egregious point unabashed, hoping to feel how much work would need to go into fixing it, smiling as she realised that, though the journey would be long, she wanted to be there for its entirety. "I can help you clean yourself up... if that's what you're worried about," she offered softly, hoping what remained of the warrior's pride would not shun her desire to help. "We can find some pretty leaf-fall flowers to put behind your ear... find you some good trees to trim those claws on... but even if that's too hard at the moment... Mirestar would be a mousebrain to say you're too gross to go to a gathering. You're still the beautiful she-cat I fell in love with... anyone suggests otherwise and I'll feed them their own tails," That included their leader, though, with what Ferndance knew about Mirestar, rejection seemed like unlikely.

Wordlessly, she began working on a knot on the back of Needledrift's neck, chewing through the worst parts of it as gently as she could. She didn't even let me say goodbye was a statement that felt like a badger's weight upon her shoulders, so much so that as soon as she started, Ferndance had to pause. She rolled her tongue and shook her head until strands of pale fur were dislodged and abandoned to the shared nest. "I don't think she would've gone through with leaving if she said goodbye to you... your pain would've hurt her too much." But, if Splashdance had stayed, she didn't doubt it would be her daughter in Needledrift's place (perhaps alongside her), feeling confined to a den with a looming sense of despair that did not disappear with each new dawn.

It was difficult to speculate whether Needledrift would've felt any better with Splashdance around. To be a mother was to sacrifice and yet... sacrificing something as equally valuable as one's child was...

She swallowed a lump in her throat. She couldn't think like that.

"I think she would be happy that you're still thinking of her, that even dozens upon dozens of lengths away, she's still your daughter."


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