- Jun 7, 2022
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All of Blazestar's children are special to him in their own way. Fireflypaw, the adventurous one, the firstborn, held by his father in his first moments on earth. Burnpaw, rebellious but brave, black pelt making him almost Little Wolf's twin. Crescentpaw, haughty but proud, lovely and reminding him so much of those vague memories he has of his mother, show cat status. Howlpaw, the fiery she-cat named after ThunderClan's deputy, born for greatness.
It's only little Morningpaw who acts distant, who tries to blend into the background, tries to lose herself amongst noisy siblings who clamor and cry for attention from all of their Clanmates. Frail, troubled, polite, easily dismissed and ignored. Crescentpaw's look-a-like, though she's an insipid imitation, eyes on the pine needles, afraid to make contact.
Blazestar worries for all of his kits, but he especially worries for Morningpaw. Sometimes he questions the intelligence to have kits with a forest-born cat -- no doubt, his kittypet blood is running rampant in all five cats. Little Wolf's forest blood is surely fighting for its life in the other four, but Morningpaw shies away from anything that isn't staying in camp.
He's noted, too, that the little tortie point has lost all enthusiasm for coming to SkyClan. It worries him. It destroys him. He wishes the mother of his kits could be with him here, but he knows she resides where her kin is, where her heart is, and he knows he must accept that it may translate to his children as well.
Blazestar sees her entering SkyClan's camp today, and before she can head straight to the nursery or the apprentice's den, he intercepts her. "You're with me today, Morningpaw," he says, voice soft as an old leaf. "We're going to mark the borders today."
Morningpaw looks up at him with startled sky-colored eyes. "Oh. Oh. Hi, Blazestar... um... are C-Cosmospaw and Butterflypaw coming with us?"
"No," he affirms, shaking his head and resting his nose against his daughter's forehead. "Not today. It'll just be you and me. Are you up to that?"
She doesn't answer him out loud; she gives him a timid nod, and the two of them are off, paws sinking deep into new snow drifts. It's not snowing now, though -- the sun is brilliant, reflecting off of shining white surfaces like it does off of Twoleg glass. Blazestar is quiet, but Morningpaw is quieter; they walk in silence, father's enormous paws leaving giant steps in their wake while Morningpaw's are tiny, smaller than her mother's.
"How's training going?" He asks, voice light.
"Um... it's good. It's--it's okay. It's good." Morningpaw stumbles into a particularly large snowdrift; the pile sends powder into her face, and she flinches, perturbed. "I'm... I'm going to learn to fight, soon."
"You don't sound too happy about that." A remark made half in jest, but one that brings despairing blue eyes to meet his own. Their paws slow, and Morningpaw's despair catches in his throat like a prey bone mid-meal.
"I'm not," she says quietly. She lowers her gaze again, to her sunk-deep paws. "I'm... am I..."
Blazestar waits, but she does not continue, not without prompting. He rests the silken fall of his tail onto her back and shoulders, giving her a little hrmm of approval.
"I'm a coward," she whispers bleakly. "I don't want to fight the other Clans. I don't want to fight anyone, ever. Wolfwind is great, and I love her, but she talks about fighting all the time, and so do some of the other warriors... I don't... I don't want to hurt anyone, Father... I don't want to make them hurt. Is that..." She tilts her tiny face up to his, distressed. "Is that what being a warrior is about? Hurting others? How do you do it?"
Blazestar stares back at his daughter, eyes blank with fear. Fear that she sees right into him, has gripped that cowardice that makes up his foundation. Memories dance in his tired mind -- memories of running, of stalling. His paws touched the battlefield too late, when the spirits had begun to rise.
Her father has never harmed another cat physically. Her father has never drawn his claws against another's pelt. But Morningpaw will be expected to. She's a ThunderClanner, will be a ThunderClan warrior someday. She'll have to defend her territory, her Clanmates, her honor, just as any SkyClanner must.
"It's not about hurting others for no reason," he says, though there's doubt bursting in the back of his skull, blooming like strange flowers. "It's about knowing how to defend yourself and your Clanmates. I don't think..." He wanders, but when he speaks again, he fixes Morningpaw with a stare he hopes is convincing. "I don't think being a warrior means you have to hurt others. I think it means you have to protect others. Your Clanmates, your territory. Whatever means the most to you."
He can see her eyes change, the posture -- what was sodden is lifted, calculating. A shine in her blue gaze. Has anything he said really gotten through?
He thinks it must have, because her smile is bright when she chirps, "Oh! Protecting what means the most to me. Oh. Like you, and mama, and my siblings, and my Clanmates..." She gives herself a moment to contemplate this before she nods. "That makes sense. Thank you... Father."
Blazestar leans down to lick her ear, but as he pulls himself away, he hears the voices whispering. What would you know about protecting anyone? What would you know about sacrifice?
They continue on, their silence continued but comfortable rather than strained. But Blazestar's expression has descended into worry, while Morningpaw's has brightened into childish acceptance.
It's only little Morningpaw who acts distant, who tries to blend into the background, tries to lose herself amongst noisy siblings who clamor and cry for attention from all of their Clanmates. Frail, troubled, polite, easily dismissed and ignored. Crescentpaw's look-a-like, though she's an insipid imitation, eyes on the pine needles, afraid to make contact.
Blazestar worries for all of his kits, but he especially worries for Morningpaw. Sometimes he questions the intelligence to have kits with a forest-born cat -- no doubt, his kittypet blood is running rampant in all five cats. Little Wolf's forest blood is surely fighting for its life in the other four, but Morningpaw shies away from anything that isn't staying in camp.
He's noted, too, that the little tortie point has lost all enthusiasm for coming to SkyClan. It worries him. It destroys him. He wishes the mother of his kits could be with him here, but he knows she resides where her kin is, where her heart is, and he knows he must accept that it may translate to his children as well.
Blazestar sees her entering SkyClan's camp today, and before she can head straight to the nursery or the apprentice's den, he intercepts her. "You're with me today, Morningpaw," he says, voice soft as an old leaf. "We're going to mark the borders today."
Morningpaw looks up at him with startled sky-colored eyes. "Oh. Oh. Hi, Blazestar... um... are C-Cosmospaw and Butterflypaw coming with us?"
"No," he affirms, shaking his head and resting his nose against his daughter's forehead. "Not today. It'll just be you and me. Are you up to that?"
She doesn't answer him out loud; she gives him a timid nod, and the two of them are off, paws sinking deep into new snow drifts. It's not snowing now, though -- the sun is brilliant, reflecting off of shining white surfaces like it does off of Twoleg glass. Blazestar is quiet, but Morningpaw is quieter; they walk in silence, father's enormous paws leaving giant steps in their wake while Morningpaw's are tiny, smaller than her mother's.
"How's training going?" He asks, voice light.
"Um... it's good. It's--it's okay. It's good." Morningpaw stumbles into a particularly large snowdrift; the pile sends powder into her face, and she flinches, perturbed. "I'm... I'm going to learn to fight, soon."
"You don't sound too happy about that." A remark made half in jest, but one that brings despairing blue eyes to meet his own. Their paws slow, and Morningpaw's despair catches in his throat like a prey bone mid-meal.
"I'm not," she says quietly. She lowers her gaze again, to her sunk-deep paws. "I'm... am I..."
Blazestar waits, but she does not continue, not without prompting. He rests the silken fall of his tail onto her back and shoulders, giving her a little hrmm of approval.
"I'm a coward," she whispers bleakly. "I don't want to fight the other Clans. I don't want to fight anyone, ever. Wolfwind is great, and I love her, but she talks about fighting all the time, and so do some of the other warriors... I don't... I don't want to hurt anyone, Father... I don't want to make them hurt. Is that..." She tilts her tiny face up to his, distressed. "Is that what being a warrior is about? Hurting others? How do you do it?"
Blazestar stares back at his daughter, eyes blank with fear. Fear that she sees right into him, has gripped that cowardice that makes up his foundation. Memories dance in his tired mind -- memories of running, of stalling. His paws touched the battlefield too late, when the spirits had begun to rise.
Her father has never harmed another cat physically. Her father has never drawn his claws against another's pelt. But Morningpaw will be expected to. She's a ThunderClanner, will be a ThunderClan warrior someday. She'll have to defend her territory, her Clanmates, her honor, just as any SkyClanner must.
"It's not about hurting others for no reason," he says, though there's doubt bursting in the back of his skull, blooming like strange flowers. "It's about knowing how to defend yourself and your Clanmates. I don't think..." He wanders, but when he speaks again, he fixes Morningpaw with a stare he hopes is convincing. "I don't think being a warrior means you have to hurt others. I think it means you have to protect others. Your Clanmates, your territory. Whatever means the most to you."
He can see her eyes change, the posture -- what was sodden is lifted, calculating. A shine in her blue gaze. Has anything he said really gotten through?
He thinks it must have, because her smile is bright when she chirps, "Oh! Protecting what means the most to me. Oh. Like you, and mama, and my siblings, and my Clanmates..." She gives herself a moment to contemplate this before she nods. "That makes sense. Thank you... Father."
Blazestar leans down to lick her ear, but as he pulls himself away, he hears the voices whispering. What would you know about protecting anyone? What would you know about sacrifice?
They continue on, their silence continued but comfortable rather than strained. But Blazestar's expression has descended into worry, while Morningpaw's has brightened into childish acceptance.
