- Nov 30, 2022
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The medicine den is quiet aside from their breaths as Fireflyglow checks the overworked cracks of his leader's stinging pawpads. Fawnpaw is elsewhere; if she remembers correctly, she would be tending to a moss patrol with a pawful of the older apprentices. Orangestar has known Fireflyglow all of his life. He would, at least, be honest. He would, at least, keep this between them. She doesn't meet his eyes, a guilty shyness prickling at her demeanour.
It has been a quarter moon since her council meeting had gone to shambles, and Orangestar is sure the warriors have noticed her recent change in mannerisms: where she is usually firm but kind, the blunted edge of her words strike ruder. Her patience wears thin. She has become easy to overwhelm, Orangestar surmises, a small huff doing nothing to ease her tension. It would be too easy to blame it on Slatesnarl, the strange distance between her and her mate drawing ever harder to bridge by her inaction. That would also be a lie, one which she discards as soon as the thought is realised. It would be too easy to blame it on Sorrelsong, but Orangestar finds herself unable to shake an awful sense of resignation that the tactless she-cat had spoken with a genuine insight into their Clan.
"I don't know if I can do this much longer." She confesses, meow hushed, in a moment of reckless overwhelm. It has been nearly twelve moons, and I have not been any sort of the leader your father was. Her failures are sorted before her in her mind's eye when she dreams, stolen prey and bloodied paws. The bodies of Oakrumble and Sweetstorm join them now, her failure in seeing a traitor among her warriors. StarClan ... she had considered allowing Kitestorm on her council, given a few more moons. The very thought makes her fur stand on end. Her attention lingers on the leaf gingerly placed on her paw, as if considering it, but the next words from her mouth are not about her treatment:
"Do you think Sorrelsong was right?"
It has been a quarter moon since her council meeting had gone to shambles, and Orangestar is sure the warriors have noticed her recent change in mannerisms: where she is usually firm but kind, the blunted edge of her words strike ruder. Her patience wears thin. She has become easy to overwhelm, Orangestar surmises, a small huff doing nothing to ease her tension. It would be too easy to blame it on Slatesnarl, the strange distance between her and her mate drawing ever harder to bridge by her inaction. That would also be a lie, one which she discards as soon as the thought is realised. It would be too easy to blame it on Sorrelsong, but Orangestar finds herself unable to shake an awful sense of resignation that the tactless she-cat had spoken with a genuine insight into their Clan.
"I don't know if I can do this much longer." She confesses, meow hushed, in a moment of reckless overwhelm. It has been nearly twelve moons, and I have not been any sort of the leader your father was. Her failures are sorted before her in her mind's eye when she dreams, stolen prey and bloodied paws. The bodies of Oakrumble and Sweetstorm join them now, her failure in seeing a traitor among her warriors. StarClan ... she had considered allowing Kitestorm on her council, given a few more moons. The very thought makes her fur stand on end. Her attention lingers on the leaf gingerly placed on her paw, as if considering it, but the next words from her mouth are not about her treatment:
"Do you think Sorrelsong was right?"
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@Fireflyglow
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ORANGESTAR ✧ penned by wren
—— she/her, leader of skyclan
—— a scarred white-and-ginger she-cat with brown eyes. her neutral expression is a faint frown.
—— mate to slatesnarl ; mentor to budpaw