- Aug 6, 2023
- 117
- 9
- 18
She feels particularly nostalgic today. Nostalgic for someone long gone, buried deep within the ground on now Shadowclan territory. It drives her up the camp walls with loneliness, and so she sets out to do the only thing she could do that would put her mind at peace today. She collects flowers, bunches of her mothers favorite, and she makes her way to the twoleg bridge.
The world is quiet besides distant tweets of birdsong. She doesn’t like quiet days like these because then she begins to think, and then when she thinks, she thinks too hard and too long about her mom. It’s all she had. She had no siblings. It was just Perch and little Salmon against the world.
She looks away from the stone barrier. She remembers exactly where they (mainly her) had buried her. Perhaps the grave is desecrated, now. Or perhaps the marker she had put there, so long ago, had been lost to time. She hadn’t made sure the particular looking stone was the most special one, just special enough for her mother. Did Shadowclanners take care of it? Did they take care of the graves of the past at all? Did they honor them as Salmonshade stands at the bridge to do now?
She’s not sure if they honor the past. After all, Salmon’s mother was never the easiest to get along with, weird and flighty just like her daughter. And, well… she never knew her father. It’s not like she needed him, really… Her mother suited it well enough. She wasn’t the best caregiver, always a bit awkward with discipline, stiff with giving affection. Too strict, too hard. Thankfully for her, Salmon wasn’t a fussy baby. She was quiet and content with what she got. She never complained, even when things were tough.
Sometimes her mother would yell, she remembers it clearly. She’d cower as if she were being battered by blows, and she guessed that would make her mom feel guilty because her mother would come and curl up with a dawn-pelted, shivering form in the nest. She’d whisper sorries and sweet words, and she’d promise to make it up to her. It never really eased the pain of being yelled at, despite all that she did to soften it.
But it was her first time living, too. It was her mothers first time being a mother. She wasn’t perfect, but Salmon did not fault her for it. I wasn’t exactly perfect either. Her mother had taught her the very beginnings of the world, and accompanied her into early adulthood. She taught her the intricacies of fishing and swimming, of catching land animals even if the former was a better skill than the latter… And then she… Succumbed to illness brought on by starvation. She wrinkles her nose and shuts her eyes. Stars, maybe if she had learned to catch those rabbits like her mom used to, it would have been enough to keep her around a few more days, a few more weeks, maybe it would have been enough to keep her going until she caught another one, and another. Maybe she wouldn’t have become so sickly. She winces at this.
A deep breath is drawn in and Salmon raises her chin for just a second, letting the breeze ruffle through her fur before she opens her mouth to let the flowers drift through the wind and fall into the river below. A blue gaze watches them float down the river further and further until one could no longer see them. She closes her eyes for a brief moment in silent prayer, hoping the hunting is good wherever Perch is.
It seems that no matter how old one gets, you still crave for your mom. The saying she’s heard over and over again seems to prove itself true. Today passes yet another newleaf morning without her… The reflection in the water looks almost like her mom. When did I get old? A chuckle is puffed out, dry as brows knit together. She looks like her. She looks like Perch. Like her mom, before her mom had fallen ill. Before the Pine Group had moved in. She looks tired, too, a look she remembers seeing so heavily in her mothers gaze.
She turns to leave the bridge and get away from her reflection, her throat dry, a heavy feeling in her chest. I miss you, mama. Even if the pain of missing her stretched far between… She thinks of a sunkissed pelt streaking across Starclan fields and just for a moment it satisfies her. She has much to do today, and she has an apprentice to train. Maybe her mom is happy with all of the work she has done. Maybe somewhere out there, shes glad her daughter is doing fine.
Paws begin their long trek back to camp.
The world is quiet besides distant tweets of birdsong. She doesn’t like quiet days like these because then she begins to think, and then when she thinks, she thinks too hard and too long about her mom. It’s all she had. She had no siblings. It was just Perch and little Salmon against the world.
She looks away from the stone barrier. She remembers exactly where they (mainly her) had buried her. Perhaps the grave is desecrated, now. Or perhaps the marker she had put there, so long ago, had been lost to time. She hadn’t made sure the particular looking stone was the most special one, just special enough for her mother. Did Shadowclanners take care of it? Did they take care of the graves of the past at all? Did they honor them as Salmonshade stands at the bridge to do now?
She’s not sure if they honor the past. After all, Salmon’s mother was never the easiest to get along with, weird and flighty just like her daughter. And, well… she never knew her father. It’s not like she needed him, really… Her mother suited it well enough. She wasn’t the best caregiver, always a bit awkward with discipline, stiff with giving affection. Too strict, too hard. Thankfully for her, Salmon wasn’t a fussy baby. She was quiet and content with what she got. She never complained, even when things were tough.
Sometimes her mother would yell, she remembers it clearly. She’d cower as if she were being battered by blows, and she guessed that would make her mom feel guilty because her mother would come and curl up with a dawn-pelted, shivering form in the nest. She’d whisper sorries and sweet words, and she’d promise to make it up to her. It never really eased the pain of being yelled at, despite all that she did to soften it.
But it was her first time living, too. It was her mothers first time being a mother. She wasn’t perfect, but Salmon did not fault her for it. I wasn’t exactly perfect either. Her mother had taught her the very beginnings of the world, and accompanied her into early adulthood. She taught her the intricacies of fishing and swimming, of catching land animals even if the former was a better skill than the latter… And then she… Succumbed to illness brought on by starvation. She wrinkles her nose and shuts her eyes. Stars, maybe if she had learned to catch those rabbits like her mom used to, it would have been enough to keep her around a few more days, a few more weeks, maybe it would have been enough to keep her going until she caught another one, and another. Maybe she wouldn’t have become so sickly. She winces at this.
A deep breath is drawn in and Salmon raises her chin for just a second, letting the breeze ruffle through her fur before she opens her mouth to let the flowers drift through the wind and fall into the river below. A blue gaze watches them float down the river further and further until one could no longer see them. She closes her eyes for a brief moment in silent prayer, hoping the hunting is good wherever Perch is.
It seems that no matter how old one gets, you still crave for your mom. The saying she’s heard over and over again seems to prove itself true. Today passes yet another newleaf morning without her… The reflection in the water looks almost like her mom. When did I get old? A chuckle is puffed out, dry as brows knit together. She looks like her. She looks like Perch. Like her mom, before her mom had fallen ill. Before the Pine Group had moved in. She looks tired, too, a look she remembers seeing so heavily in her mothers gaze.
She turns to leave the bridge and get away from her reflection, her throat dry, a heavy feeling in her chest. I miss you, mama. Even if the pain of missing her stretched far between… She thinks of a sunkissed pelt streaking across Starclan fields and just for a moment it satisfies her. She has much to do today, and she has an apprentice to train. Maybe her mom is happy with all of the work she has done. Maybe somewhere out there, shes glad her daughter is doing fine.
Paws begin their long trek back to camp.
-
❥
salmon,, salmonshade
❥ cis female ,, she/her ,, 39 months
❥ warrior of riverclan ,, mentoring riverpaw
❥ fluffy & dainty chocolate tortie smoke with white, blue eyes
❥ "speech, fd9367" ,, thoughts
❥ lesbian ,, single
❥ smells like warm flowers & freshly cut grass
❥ chibi by pin ,, penned by chuff