- Jun 7, 2022
- 418
- 150
- 43
The sunlight is blinding as he steps out from the safety of the den for the first time in a couple days. He feels a bit guilty for being such a pain, for being so consumed with his own grief that he hasn’t performed any of his expected duties for days—but is it not deserved? Should he not be allowed time to process his loss, to get back to the way he was before? He forces his mouth into a smile as he strides through the temporary camp—his eyes are drawn to the spot that only a few nights ago had been home to a pool of blood, a fading life.
His smile feels wrong. It’s ash in his mouth, coating his tongue. Clearsight is gone… dead. Smoke and Cinder are badly injured, confined to the healer’s den. Koipaw is shaken from the loss of their missing apprentice, as are most of the other apprentices. There is truly nothing to smile about; he lets it drop from his face.
The chocolate tabby walks until he reaches the temporary nursery—damaged in the WindClan raid, it’s in the process of being fully repaired. The tomcat who works at weaving reeds together turns to him, smiles brightly, and flicks his tail from side to side. "Hey, Clayfur! Care to lend a paw? Kiteleap is going to be in the nursery for a while, so I figured we should fix it up stronger."
And… oh. Oh. That makes sense. Kiteleap, the warrior’s mate, is pregnant, and he hadn’t heard about it until now. They’re having kits. Starting a family. He and Clearsight could have had that, someday. Sure, they could never have had kits purely of their own blood—but Clay never cared about that. Family isn’t constrained by blood relation, and any child Clearsight chose would have been his own just as easily. They could have raised some of the next generation of RiverClan warriors, cheered their names as they became apprentices and given mentors, smiled proudly as they were named as warriors. Truthfully, kits aren’t something he’s ever imagined he would have—until that rainy day at sunningrocks, Clay assumed that he would go his entire life without a mate, without children to speak of. But then he had been huddling beneath a rock, brown fur pressed up against blue, and he’d seen a path laid out before him. A future.
He mourns not only for what he’s lost, but for what he could have had. His entire future, burned to ashes before his eyes. His love, who deserved more time, more love than Clay could give him in such a short time.
He blinks back to himself, ear flicking as if to clear his head. "Congratulations, to both of you. It’s definitely the season for it," he offers to the soon-to-be father. He doesn’t even try to plaster on a smile, can’t bring himself to look more happy for the other warrior’s sake.
Turning away, he doesn’t allow his tears to fall until he’s in his nest, a safe distance from everyone else. All alone again, like he will be for the rest of his miserable life.
His smile feels wrong. It’s ash in his mouth, coating his tongue. Clearsight is gone… dead. Smoke and Cinder are badly injured, confined to the healer’s den. Koipaw is shaken from the loss of their missing apprentice, as are most of the other apprentices. There is truly nothing to smile about; he lets it drop from his face.
The chocolate tabby walks until he reaches the temporary nursery—damaged in the WindClan raid, it’s in the process of being fully repaired. The tomcat who works at weaving reeds together turns to him, smiles brightly, and flicks his tail from side to side. "Hey, Clayfur! Care to lend a paw? Kiteleap is going to be in the nursery for a while, so I figured we should fix it up stronger."
And… oh. Oh. That makes sense. Kiteleap, the warrior’s mate, is pregnant, and he hadn’t heard about it until now. They’re having kits. Starting a family. He and Clearsight could have had that, someday. Sure, they could never have had kits purely of their own blood—but Clay never cared about that. Family isn’t constrained by blood relation, and any child Clearsight chose would have been his own just as easily. They could have raised some of the next generation of RiverClan warriors, cheered their names as they became apprentices and given mentors, smiled proudly as they were named as warriors. Truthfully, kits aren’t something he’s ever imagined he would have—until that rainy day at sunningrocks, Clay assumed that he would go his entire life without a mate, without children to speak of. But then he had been huddling beneath a rock, brown fur pressed up against blue, and he’d seen a path laid out before him. A future.
He mourns not only for what he’s lost, but for what he could have had. His entire future, burned to ashes before his eyes. His love, who deserved more time, more love than Clay could give him in such a short time.
He blinks back to himself, ear flicking as if to clear his head. "Congratulations, to both of you. It’s definitely the season for it," he offers to the soon-to-be father. He doesn’t even try to plaster on a smile, can’t bring himself to look more happy for the other warrior’s sake.
Turning away, he doesn’t allow his tears to fall until he’s in his nest, a safe distance from everyone else. All alone again, like he will be for the rest of his miserable life.
[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]
