- May 2, 2023
- 558
- 151
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The journey back is somehow more exhausting than the trip there... though there is a crown of pointed spines in a staggering display of nine, they do nothing to give life to their paw-steps. They travel gorse plains in remote silence, glancing occasionally across the fire-torn territory with a wariness taught in blood-shed... Smokestar had died out here once... and now again but this time more permanently. With no body to bury, there is only his memory to sink under the dirt. Is there a swatch of his fur left under the willow branches that might be preserved in shaking-pawed reverie? Could they bury that and feel at peace...?
The return meant admitting what had been gnawing at the base of her skull for weeks... the unavoidable reality that who she begged to be found would not be. Could not be. Their march is scored with the marks of those who have witnessed the dead, counted them.. and found one more amongst their ranks they'd hoped not to.
It still feels... surreal... wrong... like some celestial prank, if you could even call something so cruel a prank and not a torture. "I'm so sorry..." Eyelines reddened by ceaseless tears sting again to hear it... an apology she didn't want. She knew why... but wanted so vehemently to deny it in case that might take it back, might change it. Don't be sorry, just come back... But there's no undoing this one... there is not sleeping off the bad feeling and waking up rejuvenated.
There is just exhaustion... and an isolating storm that brews in crackling grief.
RiverClan's territory appears under-paw like they have been teleported... but the way her muscles ache suggests she has simply lost the time spent walking. WindClan did not stop them... was not willing to bar them from their solemn pilgrimage... and for that, they can be thankful for Sunstar's rule of the meadows instead. "Do you have anything... for sleep," she asks Moonbeam suddenly, blinking from her fixated stare at the pebbled ground as they draw closer to RiverClan's camp. It hardly matters... and she won't press it if her medicine cat is in short supply (it's not something she has the capacity to keep track of and doesn't need to).
Whatever the answer is, she nods as an end to the conversation, the camp guards rise in alarmed greeting to see them both safely returned and without acknowledging them, or offering explanation, the blue point slips into the reed-crested camp to see the busy hustling of cats headed for patrols... of normalcy despite suffering... and knows she'll have to admit to them that it's over. There is no one left to search for.
But just for a moment, she hesitates... and just watches with exhausted gaze as they flutter around like eager spring fledglings.
Lichenstar is home. -
about
speech hex code ✧ #6368A5
ooc notes ✦ this would be the morning of march 13th, two days before the gathering
tagging ✶ @Moonbeam bc she was present but no need to wait
penned by tieirlys -
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