Title: Fearless
Well, hello there, Sorrow. Thought you were forgotten about, huh? :) Well, here it is.
Also, since there were two or three authors from different continents working on this, the spelling might vary. So, yeah. ;3 Haffun all those reading it~! - Fayy
Dragon apologizes beforehand for any inconsistencies in writing style throughout this oneshot. Dragon is no Fayy and Fayy, heaven forbid, is not Dragon. (I'm joking, of course. All in Christmas spirit.) - Dragon
~..~
It's easy to forget things once the Icestorms arrive. The blizzards of ice, hail and snow come rushing along the horizon, covering the world in a stiflingly cold blanket. During these times, the dens are all identical clumps of white, and even the Highledge is impossible to distinguish from the other hillsof pure snow. Once the snowstorms hit afterwards, CliffClan won't see green until many solitary moons into newleaf. For a few hungry, cold leafbare moons, everything—even the cats—is nothing but pure white. That won't change for what feels like an entire lifetime of dying slowly, of fading into white.
I liked it that way for so long. How the constant changes in life became so reliable —so easy to predict. It wasn't until one disastrous miracle that I saw what I had chosen to ignore for my entire life. To live my life in the past, to fall into a steady rhythm and believe that nothing will ever shift the way of life in our insignificant, desolate Clan. That miracle changed my life in ways my Clanmates and I had never imagined. All it took was one simple word.
~..~
The last thing Thrushfoot expected was the sun, but there it was. Streaming through the torn off top of their rubble den like a ray of pure happiness.
It's just a dream, Thrushfoot reassured himself, turning over and covering his eyes with his paws. It's not real. Just as he began to be swept away with the torrent of dreams, a yawn broke his concentration. It was almost instantaneously followed by a yowl of shock.
What? he thought groggily. His thoughts were suddenly voiced by the other warriors who had been woken up by the outburst. "What is your problem, Barktail?" came an irritated reply.
"Sunlight," gasped a new voice, "it's actually—I can see the sun!" The whole den erupted into movement. Warriors lurched to their paws and stumbled towards the covered opening of the den. The apprentices that had been huddled in the corner stretched and bolted outside. Even the elders rose from their nests and began to pad outside. Thrushfoot, however, stayed still.
There isn't supposed to be sunlight in the middle of leafbare, growled the bracken coloured tom. Silence followed. Naturally, any cat's natural curiosity would have sparked and he would have flipped over and run outside, but Thrushfoot was different. He liked his own little world, the silence and the closure of having a safe place to be. He had grown so used to the sniffing and coughing of other cats that without them, his little world felt incomplete. So, it was not curiosity that forced him to go outside, but anger at his life being different. Paws scuffing against the ground, the brown tom rose and lumbered his way outside, a frown etched on his young face. Strong light blinded Thrushfoot as he set paw outside and it took him a moment to blink it out of his eyes. Even after he stood there for a while, everything was still tainted with a white shine. What he saw after the glare faded took his breath away. The ravaging snow storm had passed and, although the camp was a mess, it looked beautiful. The anger quickly began to fade, to be replaced by fear. White snow had settled in a silent blanket across the ground, coating everything in its path. The snow reflected the miraculous sunshine sent from above, throwing shards of light onto the steep surrounding walls of the camp. Warriors and kits alike were bounding around joyously in the white covering, falling into deep patches nose first and rising with purrs on their lips.
Everything is so... different. Thrushfoot blinked, his eyes roaming the strange terrain. This- this isn't right. Why have the storms passed so soon? Anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach, but he shrugged it off and continued to watch the playful cats. Everyone was doing something, whether it was basking in the sun or diving headfirst into the snow, cats everywhere were enjoying the first light in moons together. A small smile spread across his muzzle as his eyes took in the new world around him. Everything was muffled, even quieter at times than the old den.
"I could get used to this," he murmured at last. His eyes began to wander, and soon enough, he found himself staring at a golden she-cat lying in a shadowed corner. She was alone and watching the proceedings just like himself. An idea formed, completely different and alien to his personality. Maybe it was the sun, but be it was fate, but before he knew it, Thrushfoot was standing in front of Goldenwing. They stared at each other for a few moments, then looked away awkwardly. The feeling had passed, and now Thrushfoot felt like an immature kitten, back to his average self and not wanting any interaction with other Clanmates. Though, he couldn't just turn and walk away now. So, to disguise his discomfort, he settled down next to her in an orderly fashion.
They both stayed like that until the discomfort was overwhelming.
Breaking the silence, Thrushfoot nodded towards the kits outside the nursery. "Birchkit and Fangkit have grown so much."
Goldenwing nodded, her green eyes calm, "Yes, they've really matured during the storm."
"It does that to everyone," Thrushfoot joked, green eyes fixed on the two black and brown kits.
The silence rained down on their ears, heavy as ever.
A rush of adrenaline, a glance at the prey pile and the brown tom was on his feet. "Say, do you want to go hunting in the snow? It's really fun, trust me."
Goldenwing merely blinked. "Sorry, what?"
"Hunting. Outside in the snow." He insisted, nodding his head in time.
Understanding flashed in her eyes and she grinned. "Yes, why not." She stood and took the lead towards the gate. Strange happiness flowered inside the brown tabby's chest as he followed Goldenwing, mesmerised just by the way she moved.
For the first few moments, after that first 'Yes,' Thrushfoot felt as if he could sprout wings and fly-but now, as he padded beside Goldenwing in the endless white while an awkward silence reigned, he had second doubts. What was he supposed to do now? Was he supposed to take that first step? Should he wait for her to speak to him first?
"M-Maybe we should hunt here," he suggested. The words spilled out ungracefully, and he immediately wished he could wield words as well as he could his claws. "I'm-no, you must be hungry, right? After the storm, you know?" Stupid, stupid!
Her mew was soft, and even in the cold silence Thrushfoot had to strain to hear. "Okay."
They paused underneath a large tree—a birch, perhaps, although it was impossible to tell for sure; it had shed its leaves long before the Icestorm transformed it into a glittering white statue. They stayed there, both of them staring down at their paws, unable to meet the other's gaze—until Thrushfoot scraped together what still remained of his courage and suggested, "You can look over there, near the roots. I'll try somewhere farther from here." Goldenwing gave a slight nod, and Thrushfoot saw her slip into a hunter's crouch just before he lost sight of her in the snow.
Why'd you ask her to come with you? Thrushfoot raged inwardly. The other toms, they would know what to do at times like this. He-he liked Goldenwing, he really did-but everything he did felt wrong, and foolish. If he had just stayed in camp... if he had just been satisfied with being average old Thrushfoot, with no connection to Goldenwing...
He was grappling with his doubts when he first encountered the grove. Even if a mouse popped out of the snow and begged to be caught, he wouldn't even be able to give it a good chase. Thrushfoot sighed and sat down in the dense snow and wrapped his tail around his chilled paws. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea, after all.
A strange noise echoed through the forest. Thrushfoot flicked an ear, trying to identify it.. It wasn't until he heard the shriek of a cat that he remembered the long forgotten memories.
Monsters! Fear gripped his entire body, freezing it in a way that no mere snow could. It seemed like a lifetime before he could finally force himself to turn back, and run.
All thoughts were centered on escape, so when Thrushfoot heard a second scream, he hadn't even thought about the she-cat that had brought him out here in the first place.
"No!" he cried, and spun back back around, heart thumping in his chest. His paws threw plumes of snow into the air and they floated for a heartbeat before falling back to the ground.
Goldenwing.
Thrushfoot's chest ached for air. He took a deep breath and began running again, this time, towards the source of the sounds. The roars of monsters grew louder, echoing through the silent forest. Bright lights flashed, tainting the white forest in all shades of blue and red. If he had not been driven by rage and pure determination to save the only cat he would willingly spend time with, Thrushfoot would have thought the lights beautiful. Another screech brought the lethe tom spinning around and heading in the direction. He broke through branches piled heavy with snow and deep ditches in the earth that threatened to bring him nose-first to the ground. All at once, the yowls and lights stopped. Thrushfoot didn't. He kept running and running, pumping energy into his limbs. Scenarios flashed through his head, but he paid no attention to them, solely focused on finding Goldenwing.
Goldenwing.
He closed his eyes and skidded into an opening. Fear settled once again in his stomach, dragging him downwards as he processed what his eyes couldn't believe. Monsters. So many they outnumbered the trees. Their claws splayed out into sharp edges, glinting in the sun. Some of their claws were buried paw-deep into trees, forcing them to the ground. Dismayed and in shock, Thrushfoot scoured the clearing, searching for just one single glint of golden fur.
There!
Hidden half in the snow was the limp body of Goldenwing.
No, Thrushfoot whispered, edging backwards into the shadows. No, please StarClan, no. He leaned out of the shadow of a tree towards her body and pushed his nose into her flank.
Cold.
Fear and grief welled up inside of him, ripping down his own little world. Everything was wrong. Everything was wrong. And it was his fault—his fault, for daring to step out of his ordinary life. It wasn't personal; it was—it was punishment.
Her eye moved. Movement—life! Thrushfoot couldn't believe it. He nosed the clumps of snow off her body and licked her cheek. Her eyes opened and her jaw moved slightly.
"Goldenwing, Goldenwing, can you hear me? Come on, stand up, we have to go!" he whispered urgently, ears angled back to catch any sounds of monsters creeping up on them.
Goldenwing sighed and rolled over onto her side, leaving a splash of dark red blood on pure white snow. Shock was reflected on both of their faces, but Thrushfoot gritted his teeth and pushed her forwards, pushing her to her paws.
"We... have... to... move...monsters...coming..." he gasped, leaning against her body against his. Goldenwing muttered and moved forward, dragging her paws.
"Come on!" Thrushfoot snarled, nudging her slowly forward.
That was when a monster roared to life behind them. Anger slowly replaced by fear, and fear replaced by a sickening nausea. "No, please no."
The monster paid no attention and started moving straight towards them. Thrushfoot turned around, his green gaze locked on the front of the monster. It didn't see the two pitiful cats crouched there, so small and weak compared to the world. It didn't care. And there was no escape. And maybe it was as the world willed it; it was better off this way. They would die here.
Unless someone stood up against the current of the impossible to challenge the world. To say No, it can't end this way—and change destiny. Something inside Thrushfoot had changed, somehow, in the few moments he had spent in this strange new sunlit place with Goldenwing. Did he really love her? Maybe, maybe not. But he had to choose—now.
He blinked, looked over at Goldenwing and snarled.
"Run, run back to your Clan—you disgust me, you foul piece of crowfood!" Disbelief stretched across Goldenwing's perfect muzzle. Limping to her feet, her eyes reflecting hurt, she turned tail and sprinted away as fast as she could. Thrushfoot didn't even check to see if she was gone before turning and facing the monster. It was one foxlength away. He had no time to run, no time for last words. His little safe world of his own was ruined, shattered. Broken. He had destroyed his chances of ever being with Goldenwing, the one cat in he was willing to share his life with. He was nothing without her, without a world he could share. He had been living in the past, where everything made sense, but now he needed change, he needed something new.
With these thoughts in his head, the brown warrior threw himself at the monster, claws flailing and mouth wide in a caterwaul. His last attempt at saving her.
Wind whipped against his face until the solid smack of bone resounded through the emotionless forest.
Calm darkness. That was all Thrushfoot felt. He liked it, though. It was quiet. Then he began to hate it. It was missing something. Someone. Grief was a shard of ice in his chest when he remembered her green eyes. Everything about her, he wanted to know more. He just didn't have the time. So, when he saw the stars floating above him, he let a purr out and began to climb, climb up to the stars, because from here, he had all the time in the world.
Back on the ground, behind an ice-encased tree, a golden furred she-cat stood in horror. Her green eyes were cold but understanding. Knowing there was nothing she could do, the she-cat turned, and ran.
~..~
Moons have come and gone. The Icestorms return, transform the world, and fade away. Sometimes even the sun takes pity on us—and sends down a ray of hope. Just as Thrushfoot was to me that fateful morning.
I watched you, Thrushfoot, more than you might have known. I knew you were quiet, out-of-the-way, never demanding. A good average warrior, but nothing more than that. Imagine my surprise when you went against all expectation to do something as simple as asking me to hunt with you.
You died before you could know that inside, I'm just like you. I was afraid of change. I told myself that I was perfectly fine, content with living alone—because what does change bring, other than unhappiness and disaster? CliffClan is perfect. The seasons may change, but in ways we can predict and prepare for. Nothing, though, could prepare me for the worst change of all: living on, knowing that your life was lost that day. Because of me.
What made you change? Why would you save me, instead of yourself? What was I to you? We hardly knew each other—two isolated souls, living in perfect unchanging worlds of their own. Nothing made sense—until something came to me.
Things change. It was useless to want otherwise. Elders pass away, leaders lose lives, warriors and queens retire. It was naïve of me to stay hidden in my own world, and let no others in. And you—you had the right of it. You took the first step to break out of your world to touch mine. You did it when you said those harsh words—words that you would never have said otherwise—to save my life. That's courage.
Everytime I look up at the stars, I know—even if there are far too many to count—that somewhere, you're watching. And guess what? I'm not afraid anymore. The most perfect, romantic moments may change and twist into horror—but knowing that you had the courage to face death in the eye gives me the strength to do the same, everyday.
Someday, we'll meet again—and learn more about each other. We can spend our lives together in the stars. And I'm not afraid to do it, for you taught me how to live without fear—fear of death, fear of commitment, fear of change. I'm not afraid to die. And I'm not afraid to live, either. All I ask is this:
Will you wait for me?
~..~
Well, Merry Christmas, Sorrow. May StarClan send you many gifts of catnip and what not. May Firestar grace you with his kittysue presents and Tigerstar stays away from you. Sara apologises that she couldn't make this, but she promises that she'll do it next year. Anyway, I hope you like it. - Fayy
Dragon does not know why she is here. Dragon was dragged against her will to help Fayy write this. Dragon is confuse. But Dragon wishes you all a merry Christmas anyhow. - Dragon
Written by: Fayy (Promise) and Dragon[FELL]
Edited by: Dragon and Fayy