Spoilers for Long Shadows.
I feel sooooo sorry for Ashfur. D: I still believe Whitewing belongs with him, lol.
If you're a BirchxWhite shipper, I still invite you to read this. :)
I hope you guys enjoy!
~ Bree
Whitewing frowned, carefully tucking her paws underneath her swollen belly. She lifted her face to the sky—a deep indigo blue, speckled with stars. The moon was a sliver, like a cat's claw, and smoky gray clouds, gently pushed by the wind, floated lazily by. The trees swayed, as if the entire forest was breathing along with her.
The white furred queen heaved a deep sigh. It wouldn't be long until the night patrol returned. Despite Daisy and Millie's constant urging for her to get some rest—her kits were apparently due any day now—Whitewing had insisted on staying up to wait for Birchfall.
Whitewing's vibrant green eyes blinked. Birchfall. She couldn't suppress the flare of affection in her chest as she thought of the enthusiastic, sometimes bad-tempered, light brown tabby tom, whom she'd befriended when he was just a new apprentice, many moons ago. She, in contrast, was long overdue for her warrior ceremony, but nevertheless the two quickly became inseparable, and their friendship grew deeper as time flew past.
Now Birchfall was her mate. And it will always be that way. Though her mental words were strong, she didn't feel the intensity that they were supposed to bring.
As she thought of Birchfall, there was another image of a face in the corner of her mind, swathed by memories of her new mate, but still there. The voice echoed in her ears again, soft and clear.
I love you, Whitewing. The voice whispered. The face belonged to that of a gray tom. His eyes were an expressive, dark blue.
She flinched and gritted her teeth, her front claws digging into the soil. No. She couldn't let herself think of him. Not when the doom of her Clan had been at his control. Not when he'd been so ready to hurt other cats, fueled by old scars of the past.
But a stronger sense of affection flowed through her, flooding her paws, her heart. The face of the gray tom began to swell in her mind, pushing all the happy memories of Birchfall away.
I love you Whitewing. The gray tom repeated. You've saved me from losing myself forever.
Whitewing felt her heart flutter, like the wings of a dying bird. She wanted to forget those words, but she couldn't. She couldn't…
There was a rustle at the bramble tunnel. Graystripe and Poppyfrost were just entering, followed by Spiderleg and Birchfall. At the sight of her mate, and overwhelmed by the memories of the gray tom, Whitewing stood up sharply, imprudently forgetting that she was pregnant.
Birchfall was bounding up to her, pressing his nose against hers. His eyes were light with concern. "Did you see the ghost of Tigerstar or something?" He teased breathlessly. "Why did you stand up so fast? Think of our kits."
"I'm sorry." Whitewing mewed. "I was just so excited to see you." That was half the truth.
"I'm happy to see you too." Birchfall purred, licking her face with slow, affectionate strokes. "I love you."
"I love you too." Whitewing replied quietly. She was surprised at the lack of feeling in her voice. But her mate didn't seem to notice. Eyes glittering, he brushed her flank with the tip of his tail before turning around and heading across the camp, disappearing into the warriors' den.
Whitewing stood watching him go for a moment. Without another thought she was off towards the bramble tunnel. There was something else she needed to do. But she was so intent on reaching her destination that she didn't notice Lionblaze standing guard. He blocked her way with his broad shoulders.
"Where are you going?" He asked. His amber eyes were puzzled.
"Just for some fresh air." She meowed. "I…I need some exercise."
The young warrior glanced at her belly. "But the kits—"
"They'll be fine." Whitewing sighed, her patience wearing thin. "I'm not stupid enough to chase squirrels in this condition. I'm just going for a stroll!" She ignored the fact that Leafpool had strictly forbidden her to exit the camp. Her kits were due any day; any time.
What if it happened while she was out?
But she merely flicked her ears, as if shooing away a fly.
Lionblaze quickly stepped aside, dipping his head. "Be careful." He mewed as Whitewing brushed past. But she scarcely heard him. Her mind was somewhere else. She was picturing that cherished place where she had spent all her time thinking for the past few moons. The image was accompanied by the voice of the gray tom, misted over by thoughts of Birchfall.
Moonlight splashed onto the forest floor, illuminating the dead leaves and needles. Whitewing could hear prey scuffling deep underground, but she didn't stop to investigate. Her paws carried her near the border of ShadowClan territory. Cautiously pushing through a well-trodden tunnel--heavily hidden by bracken and thick clumps of bramble and hazel bushes--Whitewing re-emerged into a tighter space, big enough for two cats to curl up in. Beyond that was the entrance to an abandoned badger set.
The hole looked like a yawning mouth. Whitewing instinctively sniffed the air before entering, and sat down at the very end of the set, where there was an old bed of leaves and feathers.
As she settled down, wonderful, yet painful memories began to flash through her head.
She remembered the day when she had befriended the gray tom. Back then he had seemed sad...distant. Bitter. She was drawn to that, by some instinct telling her that she had to help him somehow, anyway she could. She began spending time with him, and his attitude slowly changed, little by little.
He was happy. She was happy.
Birchfall was soon pushed to the back of her mind. There was something more, she realized, with her relationship with the gray tom. Something even deeper than her relationship with her apprenticehood friend. And she welcomed it.
She saw herself walking with the gray tom on a warm, sunny day, with their apprentices bouncing around their legs. She remembered the border patrol they spent together, talking and occasionally play-fighting a little when the lead cat wasn't looking.
There were so many memories that she had stored up inside her mind. Her fur fluffed up with astonishment. What else had she forgotten when Birchfall had re-entered her life?
As if in a trance, she stared towards the hole of light a tail-length away. She could see patches of the night sky through the criss-crossing branches of the trees from where she lay. The quarter moon shone brightly.
Suddenly a dark gray cloud drifted over it, blocking out the moonlight. As darkness filled the set, Whitewing was struck by the memory she had been looking for. Her eyes went wide as images crossed her vision.
The sun had vanished. The sound of fighting cats was so close Whitewing was terrified that they would start breaking into the camp. She paced back and forth with her apprentice, Icepaw, her thoughts tormented as she fretted over the gray tom's safety.
Then she remembered the tremendous rush of joy and relief when she finally spotted him after what seemed like hundreds of moons. He had staggered into the camp, reeking of WindClan and RiverClan scent and bleeding heavily from several wounds, but his blue eyes were shining when he spotted her. Whitewing had run into him, burying her face into his chest fur as she basked in his presence.
It was at that very moment that she realized she loved him.
Then came that fateful night.
The gray tom had accompanied her on the night patrol. He had taken her away from the others and had brought her into the badger set so that they could speak alone.
"What is it?" Whitewing had asked, worried.
"I need to tell you something." He replied. His meow was low, sullen.
"Tell me anything."
She remembered the expression in his deep blue eyes. It was like looking into a storm. Swirling…swirling…it was impossible to read. Yet by the tingling in her spine she knew that something unpleasant was going to happen.
"Tell me!" She urged, nevertheless.
"Promise me…" He spoke through gritted teeth, and his right paw was working anxiously at the ground. "Promise me that you won't tell anyone."
Whitewing knew that she should have refused to listen. She should have turned and ran far away without looking back. But she had no idea of what was coming. "I promise." She responded foolishly.
After a long, awkward pause, the gray tom spoke again.
"I tried to kill Firestar many moons ago."
Whitewing had been too horrified to move. She continued to listen with every hair on her pelt sticking straight up.
"My heart…my heart was broken…by Squirrelflight." He rasped. He was clawing deep furrows into the ground. She noticed that he spat out the name as if he had bitten into a piece of crow-food. She felt a flare of shock. When she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out.
"I wanted revenge." He continued slowly. He sounded as though he was talking to himself. "I…I wanted to cause her the pain she caused me when she chose Brambleclaw instead of me. So I plotted with the RiverClan warrior, Hawkfrost, to trap Firestar…in a fox-trap. I wanted to kill...to kill S-Squirrelflight's father." He swallowed hard. Choking down her horror, Whitewing could tell he was struggling to control his anger. "But the plan didn't work out. I--"
Whitewing immediately let out a hiss, cutting off what he was about to say. "It's a good thing it didn't, you crow-food eating traitor!" She remembered flattening her ears and shoving past the tom's shoulder to get out of the badger set. But he blocked her way with ease, firmly pushing her back with one paw.
"Whitewing, listen to me!"
"No!"
"Listen to me!" The words were almost screeched, and Whitewing couldn't help but freeze in her tracks. She whipped around to glare hotly at him, her lips twitching in the beginnings of a snarl.
"Why would I listen to you?" She spat. "You tried—"
"I'm asking you to forgive me." His voice was soft, pleading. Begging.
She stopped, her ears pricked and her neck fur bristling. Her mind was turning over and over, like a fish on dry land. She looked into the gray tom's eyes, and the ice in her began to melt.
"I love you, Whitewing." He meowed quietly, before she could speak. "You've saved me from losing myself forever. You healed the deep wounds of my heart. I've...I've found true love again." He began to pad closer, until his face was a mouse-length away from hers, eyes swirling with unreadable, painful emotions.
"I…I love you too." Whitewing was almost swept off her paws by the wave of emotion she felt. There was a lump in her throat, and she looked away, her voice cracking when she mewed, "But I can't forgive you."
There was a long, throbbing silence. She couldn't bring herself to look up at him. She didn't want to see his eyes. "I can't trust a cat who ever attempted the murder of my Clan leader, especially since he's my own kin!" She took one step towards the exit of the set. "I'm sorry, Ashfur."
She dared to look at him one last time, and the breath caught in her throat. His eyes were emotionless, glazed over as if he had died standing up. She immediately broke into a run, charging through the brambles and bracken without looking back, her heart aching with agonizing pain.
The next morning, she began to avoid Ashfur. She made excuses whenever she was chosen to join a patrol with him, and she constantly avoided his gaze whenever he would look up with his blue eyes. But nevertheless, the gaping hole in her heart still remained.
She began to spend more time with Birchfall, and as their friendship deepened, the gaping hole began to close up.
But it was never fully healed.
She watched him withdraw back to his old self, even more bitter than before. But she couldn't bring herself to speak to Ashfur again.
And how she regretted it!
Whitewing was brought back to the present. She found her chest fur soaking with tears she hadn't known she shed. Lowering into a crouch, as if in pain, she silently suffered. She would never forget the day when the Clan had found his body floating in a stream, murdered—his life taken away by a single slit at the throat. Someone must have found out his secret. Whitewing had never told anyone. If I didn't, who did? She shuddered.
Even so, she still felt responsible for his death. Every day she carried the burden, the guilt, of refusing to forgive him of his mistakes in the first place. Perhaps if she had said yes, things would have been different.
She decided to face the facts: she would never love Birchfall the same way she loved Ashfur, regardless of his terrible mistake.
Right then and there, she forgave him.
She was reminded of the young she was carrying by the soft kick in her belly. She looked up through the entrance to the set, feeling a sudden wave of peace when she saw the moon, revealed again. The cloud had gone.
"I'll take good care of your kits, Ashfur." She whispered. Slowly getting up, she trudged out of the badger set and headed back to camp.
"Our kits..."
The stars seemed to twinkle brighter, as if they approved of her promise.
:D Man, I nearly cried while reading this. Like it? Review? Thankies. :)