- Jan 13, 2023
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She knew grief to be a by-product of death, the funny feeling in one's heart when the one you loved was no longer there. It was a funny feeling because it took away feeling, leaving a numb husk that did not have an expiry date, seemingly choosing at random when to revive itself. Ferndance had been forty-five moons old when she learned its true meaning. So long as one could not express love, they could feel the emotion. Within the warrior's den, it tore at every organ trying to escape, aches and pains all over Ferndance's body in its attempt to flee her feelings-suppressed body. She was curled up in her nest in a tighter ball than usual, the torn moss beneath her wet from tears that had not stopped flowing since the moon gasped in the night sky. Tonight was the last night she would ever see Snowypaw, apprentice of ShadowClan. Tonight was the last night she'd ever see her daughter, whose choice had turned her into a nameless stranger on the opposite end of the known world.
A long-furred cinnamon she-cat sat on the border of ShadowClan, her wispy tail intertwined with the gangly tail of a black cat.
"Mama, I... I don't understand. Why do we have to go away? Did we do something wrong?"
It had been Ferndance to speak first, with the most talkative littermates either dead or banished, the role of the protestor fell onto her. The words were meeker than Cardinal's or Beregost's, she'd never been very good at active rebellion.
She never thought it would turn out like this, so well did she fit her mother's pawsteps that she could now understand how difficult it had been to leave her behind in ShadowClan. Ferndance knew she should've said no to her daughter, told her that the plan was a silly one and that there was no need to explore she would've been lying to herself and the snow-freckled she-cat. She just wished 'the right thing' did not hurt, that she would wake up tomorrow and smile because Snowypaw got a chance to be happy. Her paws fiddled with a woodpecker's feather, its rachis snapped in two, the spotted thing holding on by a singular sharp thread. She hadn't meant to hug it so hard that it broke, she had hoped it would fill the Snowy-shaped void in her heart, but it seemed that gap would remain forever.
"No, ya'll could never do anything wrong," Ferndance's mother assured her, sadness shading her eyes. "It's... dangerous to be a family, now. All these clans poppin' up and takin' over the place, they'll think we're a gang and-" She looked towards the black cat, who out of shame, couldn't see anything but the dark brown earth by his paws. "Clans are the future! You'll be happier here, safer here, mama don't lie."
It hadn't seemed like a lie, at the time. Living in a larger community, learning how to be a warrior, it had all been so fun that Ferndance hadn't realised how long had passed since she'd last seen the parents that had advised her to stick with it. Getting a rank had been fun, falling in love had been fun, and having children had been fun. All had been in the name of self-interest, but... all would eventually come to an end. She had lost her rank, part of her love was in a faraway place, now... her children were flying the coop without her - and she was getting too attached to the life she'd earned to be able to start fresh and do it all over again. Even if she could never fully trust ShadowClan again, she could trust in the bonds she had built with those that mattered: Needledrift, her love, so hot that Ferndance claimed she could melt the snow by stepping on it. Bonepaw, a growing guardian to his family, so kind, kinder than herself. Bloodpaw, a fighter if she had ever seen one, already planning revenge on the cat that hurt her. Shadepaw, so bright and talkative, a hunter in the making who would put Ferndance to shame. Branchkit, Morelkit, Gigglekit, too young to let their true colours show, all so full of love for a world that had not yet challenged them as it had the others.
Ferndance loved the world too... but just a little less, without Snowypaw by her side. Pikesplash had always been the missing piece of a puzzle, now, Snowypaw had gone to keep him company. Tonight had been the last night she'd seen her daughter, Ferndance repeated, and ash burned her lungs.
"Then... why can't you live with me?"
"Ah," the black cat spoke up, whiskers twitching impishly. "When you get to my age Fernie, learning new things... it ain't possible. Olly and I agreed it's no use living with others, not unless they want all their trinkets pinched."
"Boots don't wanna change for them, it's too much," the cinnamon tabby added.
"But... mama... papa... will I have to change?"
She'd carried their legacy with her, the talkative nature of a mother who befriended every rogue she came across, the individualistic nature of a father who was honest enough to know what he was (a thief) and be unashamed of it. Ferndance wondered what piece Snowypaw would carry with her to RiverClan, and what piece she would learn from Pikesplash. 'Pikesplash...' She hadn't told him Snowy's plan, couldn't tell him her plan, not when she was chained to ShadowClan's territory like a dog on a too-tight leash. He could get in trouble and have no one to blame but Ferndance and their daughter, and the cinnamon tabby didn't even think she could blame him for it. 'Please.... just don't hate me....' She never prayed to StarClan, her loves were the only Gods she'd ever needed, placed on a pedestal for all the good they did. Somehow, she hoped Pikesplash would answer, the imitation of his voice with the 'I could never hate you,' in her head did not do his beautiful way of speaking justice.
A scarlet hue crept into the warrior's den, a sailor's warning. Ferndance blinked, and light entered her vision for the first time - dawn, already. Her bereavement turned to dread in her belly, realising she'd spent so long mourning that she had not stopped to think about what she would say to her clanmates. A hastily made plan came to the cinnamon tabby's head, something so stupid that it seemed perfect. Before she got the chance to fill in the details, she craned her neck towards the front of the den, watching a brown-and-tan figure creep across the camp, scouring every single den. 'Shadepaw... You really don't have to do this...' With telepathy unlearned by the cinnamon tabby, she could only watch as her kitten went up to another cat, near enough to whisper something in their ear. The panic on the other creature's face was enough to tell Ferndance what had been said - hastily, she retreated back to her own nest. In. Out. In. Out. She counted her breaths, though they were too rapid for the she-cat to remain accurate.
Fake it until you make it, often told to cats who lacked her confidence, now, nothing more than a mosquito bite on the ear of someone who'd pretended to be a bad liar long enough to fear she'd actually become one. Too rehearsed and she'd look suspicious, too loose with her lies and she'd look guilty - her paw tapped rapidly against the woodpecker feather until she apologetically tucked it back into a hoard of other trinkets.
"Chilledstar!"
She'd run out of time. Ferndance got to her paws and took a step, woozy as the ground seemed further away in her head than it was. Another step and not even anxiety could stop the lull of sleep that tried to claim her. Ferndance would just have to compromise, work with it, as she had to work with Shadepaw's decision.
Finally, she stepped out into the light, ready to protect Snowypaw's dignity — as a ShadowClanner, and as a daughter.
