// @Briarthorn @SCREECHSTORM
The drawling sound of toads’ cries accompanies Forestshade's slow, deliberate pawsteps as she approaches her two children. The familiar scent of pine and wet earth clings to her fur from her morning hunt with Gigglepaw. It feels good to do good for the clan before she makes her final decision. But first, there are things she needs to say.
Briarthorn and Screechstorm sit near the warrior's den, sharing a meal beneath the low-hanging branches of a bush, just where they’d been pointed out by a clanmate. She hesitates for a heartbeat, ears flicking. Her paws feel rooted to the ground. It's not that she doesn't know what to say; it's that she doesn't know how they'll take it. She's kept her distance from them for moons, thinking it was the right way to raise them - believing they needed to grow strong on their own. But now, as she prepares to leave ShadowClan behind, she knows that distance has caused more harm than good.
She clears her throat softly, stepping forward until her children's attention shifts toward her and she hears their conversation stop. "I need to talk to you both," The torbie begins, her voice quieter than usual. With a gesture of her head, she urges them to follow her out of camp, where they can have some privacy. It takes a few moments for all of them to slip out, and she sits under a looming pine tree before turning her full attention to her kits. Her whiskers twitch as she tries to find the right words, but what comes out is simply the truth. "I owe you both an apology."
A soft rain starts up, its rhythmic patter surrounding them, but they’re mostly sheltered by the branches above them. Stars, she wishes desperately she could see their faces, try to get any read on them. But she doesn't hesitate, doesn’t wait to continue. She's done running from this.
"I wasn't the mother you deserved," Forestshade continues, her voice firmer now. "I kept my distance because I thought it would make you stronger. I thought I was doing what was best by letting you stand on your own four paws. But I know now that I was wrong. I left you to face things you shouldn't have had to face alone." She pauses only briefly before continuing, a flicker of pain crossing blind green eyes. "I know I can't take back the moons you've spent wondering where you stood with me. I wasn't there for you the way a mother should be, and I'm sorry for that. For everything you went through as kits, as apprentices…especially with Sweetpaw's death."
She feels the familiar ache rise in her chest as she speaks her dead kit’s name, the grief still sharp despite the passage of time. Sweetpaw's death had been a blow to them all, but she knows it hit Briarthorn and Screechstorm hardest. She'd failed them in that moment too - keeping her emotions locked away instead of grieving with them to the fullest extent. Her voice softens to a murmur, "I thought keeping a distance would make you tough. But it only pushed you away."
There's a long silence, broken only by the rain and the distant murmurs of camp not too far away. The lead warrior sits tall, but her tail flicks uneasily as she awaits their response, her heart thudding in her chest. She knows she has more to say - about her decision to leave, about the future that lies beyond ShadowClan's borders - but for now, she waits.
The drawling sound of toads’ cries accompanies Forestshade's slow, deliberate pawsteps as she approaches her two children. The familiar scent of pine and wet earth clings to her fur from her morning hunt with Gigglepaw. It feels good to do good for the clan before she makes her final decision. But first, there are things she needs to say.
Briarthorn and Screechstorm sit near the warrior's den, sharing a meal beneath the low-hanging branches of a bush, just where they’d been pointed out by a clanmate. She hesitates for a heartbeat, ears flicking. Her paws feel rooted to the ground. It's not that she doesn't know what to say; it's that she doesn't know how they'll take it. She's kept her distance from them for moons, thinking it was the right way to raise them - believing they needed to grow strong on their own. But now, as she prepares to leave ShadowClan behind, she knows that distance has caused more harm than good.
She clears her throat softly, stepping forward until her children's attention shifts toward her and she hears their conversation stop. "I need to talk to you both," The torbie begins, her voice quieter than usual. With a gesture of her head, she urges them to follow her out of camp, where they can have some privacy. It takes a few moments for all of them to slip out, and she sits under a looming pine tree before turning her full attention to her kits. Her whiskers twitch as she tries to find the right words, but what comes out is simply the truth. "I owe you both an apology."
A soft rain starts up, its rhythmic patter surrounding them, but they’re mostly sheltered by the branches above them. Stars, she wishes desperately she could see their faces, try to get any read on them. But she doesn't hesitate, doesn’t wait to continue. She's done running from this.
"I wasn't the mother you deserved," Forestshade continues, her voice firmer now. "I kept my distance because I thought it would make you stronger. I thought I was doing what was best by letting you stand on your own four paws. But I know now that I was wrong. I left you to face things you shouldn't have had to face alone." She pauses only briefly before continuing, a flicker of pain crossing blind green eyes. "I know I can't take back the moons you've spent wondering where you stood with me. I wasn't there for you the way a mother should be, and I'm sorry for that. For everything you went through as kits, as apprentices…especially with Sweetpaw's death."
She feels the familiar ache rise in her chest as she speaks her dead kit’s name, the grief still sharp despite the passage of time. Sweetpaw's death had been a blow to them all, but she knows it hit Briarthorn and Screechstorm hardest. She'd failed them in that moment too - keeping her emotions locked away instead of grieving with them to the fullest extent. Her voice softens to a murmur, "I thought keeping a distance would make you tough. But it only pushed you away."
There's a long silence, broken only by the rain and the distant murmurs of camp not too far away. The lead warrior sits tall, but her tail flicks uneasily as she awaits their response, her heart thudding in her chest. She knows she has more to say - about her decision to leave, about the future that lies beyond ShadowClan's borders - but for now, she waits.
