It is leaf-fall, the time when leaves fall from trees and hide both the threats and the help. There is wind and rain and the occasional frost on the ground, covering every surface with miniature stars that glitter almost maliciously in the dawn light.
There is a cat - a single cat, no more than that - who treks across the cool grass, disturbing leaves and frost as she goes. It is almost as if she does not care for the tiny stars (gifts from StarClan, her mind whispers tauntingly) that she tramples and melts, creating patches of bare ground with only the melted dew of the frost to soak into the ground (disappearing for ever and not coming back, her mind whispers tauntingly) in silence as they, at least, accept their fate.
The feline moves on, haunching skinny shoulders against a chilling wind that has blown up. Her step barely differs - it is limping and exhausted and staggering - as more weight is taken by her forepaws. She does not look up at the sound of the shrill call of the birds in the trees, watching her nervously. She cannot reach them. She will not reach them. She does not deserve to eat, not yet. She must not pity herself for her losses.
There is still her mission, even with no one to report back to. She must carry on. She must be sure to deliver the message, to get there in time. She knows this is her punishment for her crimes. She was never expected to live much longer than a quarter moon into her journey, much less than those who still hold onto her loyalties like moths to a flame, even if there is no real reason for her to be loyal. Not anymore.
Letting out a harsh, rasping laugh, the she-cat claws a lump of soil from the ground and sends it flying into the trunk of a tree and splintering into a thousand irreparable pieces. Nothing left for her.
She surprises even herself by the sob that tears out of her throat. She thought she had her mourning out of the way. She wishes things were back to the way they were before, when she was a kit and there was nothing to worry about other than what to play or how to sneak out of camp. She swallows the next sob, blinking away the tears and stepping more deliberately.
She promised. She must continue with the mission, be it worthless or not. StarClan, she doesn't even know if these cats are still alive or not, but she'll continue. If anything, she's never broken her word before and she isn't about to start now.
As she travels further into the day, the sun rises in the sky and she desperately hopes for a river or lake or even a dirty puddle to appear near her. However hard she pricks her ears, she cannot hear the sound of rushing or lapping water. There is nothing here but the burn of the sun and the sand and the ripping of her paws against sharp stones.
The cat turns to look back at the way she has come, not at all surprised as she feels her head spin and sees the patches of blood from her broken pads on the hard and unforgiving surface of ancient rock. It has been there longer than her ancestors have walked this earth and will be there for many more moons after her last breath.
She lets out of shaky breath and breathes in, suddenly turning back to the trail ahead of her and pacing forward at a faster, more determined pace than before. She can smell something on the wind and it is not prey or enemy. It is the scent of many cats.
The scent is just as she has been told. It fresh and it is soft and it is healthy. It is the scent of her final destination. In her heart of hearts, she knows this will be her real finale (end game, her mind whispers tauntingly, the only way it seems to whisper these days) and she is not afraid. She will not bow before her mission is complete.
The boarder is as clear and fresh as the scent and she does not hesitate to cross it. However, once inside the marked territory, the feline pauses, frozen and stiff as ice, as she takes note of her surroundings. This is not like it was before; it is not unclaimed or allied territory. It is claimed by cats she does not know and, although she will never show it, she is afraid and unsure and she wants to go home to her brother and mentor but she can't because it's all gone and she isn't so she needs to help because there must be a reason and there can't never not be a reason... right?
Quiet as a mouse, the she-cat winds her way through narrow paths, following the recent scent of a returning patrol. There are no more than five cats on the patrol (three warriors and two apprentices, she registers with a thrill of uncertainty that she has not felt since her first escape from camp as a kit) and they are not far ahead of her. Their camp is near, she notices, glancing at the thinning foliage and feeling nerves coil in her belly like a snake getting ready to strike.
She carries on, exhaustion and torn pads forgotten in the growing excitement of finding what has only ever been described to her in stories herself. She stops suddenly, amber eyes glowing at the sight of the gorge and the gathered cats inside and takes a deep, settling breath to steady herself for the way down. So this is it.
The cat limps down the narrow paths, head low and ears flattened and she disturbs several pebbles with a badly misplaced step. She barely freezes as the cats she is heading towards turn to face her, surprise and threats and maybe even fear on their faces. She doesn't flinch, doesn't cry out or make a sound as her paws slip and she falls with a thump to the unforgiving ground beneath.
The rush of paws and touch of fur and rasp of tongue is lost on her as she struggles to sit up, ignoring the sharp pain of broken bone and torn flesh in favour of the completion of her mission. This is it.
She pushes away the tentative paws of who she assumes is the medicine cat apprentice, bats the herbs from some tom she thinks must be the medicine cat and turns to the cat who is introducing himself as the leader and speaks, interrupting him. Her mission is finally done and a weight lifts from her as she allows her head to drop onto the ground and she thinks something in her face breaks but she can't be sure because -
Because she's floating and there is no hurt and she's young and carefree and there are no ancestors like in the stories, just the lack of pain and fear and then there is nothing, not anymore.
I'll be needing character suggestions so don't feel afraid to post a review or send me a private message with a character form that includes the minimum of name, appearance and personality. I also wouldn't mind some suggestions on how to improve my writing or any mentions of mistakes I've made.
Disclaimer: Warriors does not belong to me and neither do any characters that other people have suggested. However, this story belongs to me and copyright is unacceptable. Seriously. I'll get you if you try anything.