- Aug 1, 2022
- 262
- 104
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Morningpaw.
Her wounds seem to cry. High - pitched, wailing bells and chimes. Of pain; of sweeling blood and seared skin, but it’s so far away she cannot bring herself to care. There are much better things to think about. Happiness, and joy, and triumph, but she can’t bring herself to care about those things either. Idle nothing, but something... waiting. She reaches for them— with paws far uglier than she ever remembers them being— but they slip right through; bursting into stardust, unraveling like entrails. String and blood and then nothing. She is floating in a place she cannot understand.
All that will stay in her grasp is the name Morningpaw.
Did I do it right, this time?
No one answers her, but she feels like somewhere is there, waiting for something or wishing for something. Or maybe it was many someone’s, all with wants and wishes of their own. There’s a low, droning hum from somewhere. From everywhere. Or maybe it was only her.
If no one would answer, she would decide it for herself. I did. I think I did.
Then there's a collective release of breath. Nothing she could hear or see, but something she felt; a sigh from all around her, and it was hers, too. Relief.
She feels a part of something bigger. Not in the way any clan cat was, not the collective we that was ThunderClan. It’s something she can’t describe, light at her paws. Darkness— but only because there was nothing, not because it was dark. She knows she isn’t seeing all of what it was, or what it could be, but she’s excited, knowing that there is more. She opens her eyes.
And she sees love. The most beautiful thing she has ever seen, and will ever see. No light at the end of the tunnel, but something that was just joy. Colors she could never point to, in the living world.
She doesn’t fear seeing them again. She thinks she fears nothing, anymore.
I’d like to do more, she thinks. But it’s okay if I can’t.
She thinks she sees it, Morningpaw’s smile. It's knowing; full of something Wolfwind had never taught her.
She never told her, I’m sorry.
She would tell her when she’s dead, she decides. She'd tell her everything, then.
And she'd make it up to her until then.
Her wounds seem to cry. High - pitched, wailing bells and chimes. Of pain; of sweeling blood and seared skin, but it’s so far away she cannot bring herself to care. There are much better things to think about. Happiness, and joy, and triumph, but she can’t bring herself to care about those things either. Idle nothing, but something... waiting. She reaches for them— with paws far uglier than she ever remembers them being— but they slip right through; bursting into stardust, unraveling like entrails. String and blood and then nothing. She is floating in a place she cannot understand.
All that will stay in her grasp is the name Morningpaw.
Did I do it right, this time?
No one answers her, but she feels like somewhere is there, waiting for something or wishing for something. Or maybe it was many someone’s, all with wants and wishes of their own. There’s a low, droning hum from somewhere. From everywhere. Or maybe it was only her.
If no one would answer, she would decide it for herself. I did. I think I did.
Then there's a collective release of breath. Nothing she could hear or see, but something she felt; a sigh from all around her, and it was hers, too. Relief.
She feels a part of something bigger. Not in the way any clan cat was, not the collective we that was ThunderClan. It’s something she can’t describe, light at her paws. Darkness— but only because there was nothing, not because it was dark. She knows she isn’t seeing all of what it was, or what it could be, but she’s excited, knowing that there is more. She opens her eyes.
And she sees love. The most beautiful thing she has ever seen, and will ever see. No light at the end of the tunnel, but something that was just joy. Colors she could never point to, in the living world.
She doesn’t fear seeing them again. She thinks she fears nothing, anymore.
I’d like to do more, she thinks. But it’s okay if I can’t.
She thinks she sees it, Morningpaw’s smile. It's knowing; full of something Wolfwind had never taught her.
She never told her, I’m sorry.
She would tell her when she’s dead, she decides. She'd tell her everything, then.
And she'd make it up to her until then.
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. . . Wolfwind has successfully trained apprentices to warriorhood, but her newest protege does something to remind her of the first apprentice she lost. After a full cycle of seasons, how does she cope? . . .
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does not account for scars.
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