- Jan 27, 2023
- 422
- 117
- 43
A gust buffets Bluefrost’s pelt. Tiny crystals begin to gather upon the tips of her sapphire-tinged pelt, and her breath, warm as smoke from a woodland blaze, plumes hazily before her. Snow crunches under her wayward paws as she crests a hill where a lone figure sits, staring into the star-scattered sky. Her mother had once stood tall and imposing—she’d had to look up into her face, into the narrow emerald of her fiery gaze, but the two of them are merely shadows of one another now. Bluefrost is quiet as she joins Sootstar upon the mound of snow that overlooks the moor, the skies—and the moon blankets everything in frost-pale light, cool and watchful and unforgiving.
“Sootstar.” She has not spent time alone with her mother since her warrior ceremony—the Clan had dissolved on itself shortly after. She dips her head in a gesture of deep respect, but there’s nervousness behind the gesture. She remembers the fervor Sootstar had spoken against Moorblossom with, and she keeps the memory at the forefront of her mind now.
“…The stars are bright tonight,” she murmurs, almost absently. “It means nothing, though. They are not with us.” Phantoms stare at them from silver-bright eyes, laughter unfurling from ghostly muzzles. She blinks up at them, imploringly, as they twinkle and fade and shimmer out of existence. Are you truly up there? Are you condemning me as she has you?
To Sootstar, she turns, and she shakes her pelt out, fluffing it up against the chill in the air. “How are you, Mother?” The word feels awkward, but she has used it purposefully. I am your daughter. I am your kit. Do you remember it—do you remember us all at your belly, needing you?
[ @SOOTSTAR ]
“Sootstar.” She has not spent time alone with her mother since her warrior ceremony—the Clan had dissolved on itself shortly after. She dips her head in a gesture of deep respect, but there’s nervousness behind the gesture. She remembers the fervor Sootstar had spoken against Moorblossom with, and she keeps the memory at the forefront of her mind now.
“…The stars are bright tonight,” she murmurs, almost absently. “It means nothing, though. They are not with us.” Phantoms stare at them from silver-bright eyes, laughter unfurling from ghostly muzzles. She blinks up at them, imploringly, as they twinkle and fade and shimmer out of existence. Are you truly up there? Are you condemning me as she has you?
To Sootstar, she turns, and she shakes her pelt out, fluffing it up against the chill in the air. “How are you, Mother?” The word feels awkward, but she has used it purposefully. I am your daughter. I am your kit. Do you remember it—do you remember us all at your belly, needing you?
[ @SOOTSTAR ]
, ”
