- Jun 14, 2023
- 28
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It’s been weird for the past few moons as the Ripple Colony settled into their new home and names, but it’s only grown weirder in the past few days. More difficult, really, as the remnants of their colony only crumbled further at the River territory’s edge, a collapse made in claw-strikes, in loss of life.
It’s a lackadaisical effort, as gunmetal gray sifts through falling snow again, as he nears the scene once more. He is alone, his gaze sullen as he remembers. Cedarblaze and Thornmask are no more, returning to life as Sasha and Deacon. The Ripple Colony is no more, a reminder only furthered by their departure.
Maybe they could’ve stayed, if things were different. Maybe Sasha could have stayed, at the very least, if Deacon hadn’t run his claws over the clan’s Star, if they hadn’t left a supernova in their wake. Maybe judgment would have simmered, the glares he feels across his fur diminished into nothing over time.
Will he ever fit in here? Especially now, after all that had gone down that day?
He isn’t sure. But he knows he misses them still, knows he mourns the further loss of familiarity, of friends.
Tired eyes see a shadow amidst the flurry, and though his mind knows better — though he knows the shadow is likely nothing — he can’t help but to imagine a scenario in which brown tabby fur would emerge from the storm, a familiar face found again. Though Lichentail’s orders loom over his head, an echo in his thoughts still.
Kill on sight.
He isn’t one to want to kill, but he thinks he might, if Deacon were to return. But Sasha?
He isn’t sure.
Sasha had always seemed to be the one to hold the lot of them together, to him. And now that she was gone, everything felt like it was falling apart. Maybe it has been for a while, though. Maybe Dewcloud hadn’t been paying attention to the world around him. He wouldn’t put it past himself, really, as foolish as he’s been on RiverClan’s grounds.
Dewcloud scans for the shadow once more, before a fog-breathed huff escapes his maw, his form turning to leave. If his former colony mate still lingers — he doubts she does, doubts she’d want to be anywhere around here, now (he hardly does himself, some days) — he’d rather not be the one to carry out Lichentail’s orders.
He'd rather leave that up to someone else.
It’s a lackadaisical effort, as gunmetal gray sifts through falling snow again, as he nears the scene once more. He is alone, his gaze sullen as he remembers. Cedarblaze and Thornmask are no more, returning to life as Sasha and Deacon. The Ripple Colony is no more, a reminder only furthered by their departure.
Maybe they could’ve stayed, if things were different. Maybe Sasha could have stayed, at the very least, if Deacon hadn’t run his claws over the clan’s Star, if they hadn’t left a supernova in their wake. Maybe judgment would have simmered, the glares he feels across his fur diminished into nothing over time.
Will he ever fit in here? Especially now, after all that had gone down that day?
He isn’t sure. But he knows he misses them still, knows he mourns the further loss of familiarity, of friends.
Tired eyes see a shadow amidst the flurry, and though his mind knows better — though he knows the shadow is likely nothing — he can’t help but to imagine a scenario in which brown tabby fur would emerge from the storm, a familiar face found again. Though Lichentail’s orders loom over his head, an echo in his thoughts still.
Kill on sight.
He isn’t one to want to kill, but he thinks he might, if Deacon were to return. But Sasha?
He isn’t sure.
Sasha had always seemed to be the one to hold the lot of them together, to him. And now that she was gone, everything felt like it was falling apart. Maybe it has been for a while, though. Maybe Dewcloud hadn’t been paying attention to the world around him. He wouldn’t put it past himself, really, as foolish as he’s been on RiverClan’s grounds.
Dewcloud scans for the shadow once more, before a fog-breathed huff escapes his maw, his form turning to leave. If his former colony mate still lingers — he doubts she does, doubts she’d want to be anywhere around here, now (he hardly does himself, some days) — he’d rather not be the one to carry out Lichentail’s orders.
He'd rather leave that up to someone else.
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