Title: and we'll all float on
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: A whole lot of characters, and a whole lot of pairings.
Summary: And they'd be okay.
Authors Note: This monster is finally done with! It's almost 12,000 words, and I feel so accomplished after writing it, it's not even funny. Basically a more detailed post TLH fic then my other one was. Title from "Float On" by Modest Mouse.
i. yes, you'll be in my heart
Jayfeather finds himself standing at Hollyleaf's grave two whole days after the battle.
He's been avoiding it, coming here and seeing her. He misses her (great StarClan how much he misses her), but he's never been able to drag himself from his work and hasn't had the courage to go and do it. He hasn't been able to come over, feel the newly churned dirt under his paws and smell the lingering scent of the cats who buried her body.
From what he's heard, whispers that have gone on around the camp, Squirreflight and Bramblestar were the first to come and pay their respects to her body. A few hours after they had left, being given the privacy, Cinderheart, Mousewhisker, Ivypool, Dovewing, and Brackenfur came. Lionblaze and Leafpool still had yet to muster up the strength to do so, and it wasn't like Jayfeather resents them – he's a lot of things, but not a hypocrite.
But here he is now. Standing over her grave, eyes closed because even if he can't see, the thought of having his eyes open while he looks down in nauseating at best. He's struggling to keep his calm, forcing down the powerful want he has to throw himself down on her grave, snuggling up in the grass and try to remember the way her fur felt when they cuddled with Lionblaze as kits and apprentices, trying to remember how her voice sounded because he can't and it's so sad.
"You're here," He hears his brothers voice, but he doesn't move. Lionblaze's scent carries to his nose as a morning breeze drifts by, causing Jayfeather's mood to be just a little bit more peaceful. "We-I was waiting for you to come."
He doesn't miss the mess up in his brothers sentence, but he ignores it. Leafpool would come in her own time, he knows it.
"I've been waiting, I think," he tells him, inhaling deeply and looking up finally, his face looking somewhere to the horizon. "I've been waiting for the right time."
He feels thick fur pressing against his flank, and he basks in it, leaning on his twin brother for a moment and is just so thankful that he's not alone. That he's not left behind in this grief, that there's cats who understand and accept it.
It's nice.
"I miss her," Lionblaze murmurs, his voice ending in a sigh. There's a pregnant pause between them, when suddenly, he hears: "Hey, remember when I tackled her to the ground and she got mud all over her fur? She was so mad."
Jayfeather smiles weakly, despite himself. "Hollyleaf hated getting dirty - "You're lucky I'm not the leader yet, or I'd knock out your eardrums for that!"," He laughs an airy laugh, shaking his head as he swallows a lump in his throat. "She was so uptight."
Lionblaze headbutts his shoulder. "But she was smart, and was usually right. I mean – remember when she told me not to put a thorn in Berrypaw's nest because he'd try and make dirt in mine? I'm so thankful that I walked in right when he started squatting – I'd kill him for that."
When Lionblaze says the word "kill", Jayfeather looks down again, sighing. He feels his brother flinch against him.
"I'm sorry," Lionblaze murmurs, moving away from Jayfeather and touching his nose to his ear. "I'm so sorry – I forgot."
Jayfeather just shakes his head, sighing and facing his twin. "No. It's okay," He looks down to the grave, imagining the lump of dirt and turning away from it again. "We have to move on. Hollyleaf wouldn't want us to grieve for her forever because "there's duties to do and no time for you to be sitting like a lazy toad!"."
The mood lightens just a little bit more, and Jayfeather just nudges his brothers shoulder as he passes by, flicking his tail for him to follow.
"Come on," he meows, hearing heavy pawsteps behind him as they passed by a bracken bush. "I should be getting back – StarClan knows that some idiot probably got a thorn stuck in their paw pad," He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Honestly, there's so much bracken and bramble bushes around here that you'd think they'd know to be more careful. We have such airheaded warriors in our Clan."
He can almost hear the smirk in Lionblaze's voice when he meows: "Now that's the Jayfeather I know." But other then that, he doesn't say much more.
Are they okay yet? No, and neither of them will ever be.
But are they beginning to move on, learning that Hollyleaf will be waiting for them – all of them – when they finally do pass on.
And that thought alone makes everything just a little bit okay.
ii. hold on, hold on, you're not drowning again
Sandstorm smiles as she watches Brightheart and Cloudtail sit next to each other, a small set of new scars adorning the fluffy white tom, but they just look so relaxed that it's hard to notice. Their new litter are playing at their paws, little Amberkit trying to keep up with her brothers as they run after the moss ball that they've thrown.
"I miss those days," Comes the rough but extremely familiar voice behind her, and she turns, giving a ghost of a smile when she sees Dustpelt standing there, his amber eyes tracing the forms of the three kittens. Memories gleam in his dulling amber eyes, and Sandstorm already knows that she must look the same; staring at those kittens and thinking of her own daughters.
He lays next to her, short fur just slightly pressing into her own as his gaze sweeps across the Clan, smiling weakly. "When they were so little, didn't have anything to worry about."
Sandstorm looks away, swallowing a lump of ice in her throat. "They've had their innocence stolen from them already," she murmurs, her voice devoid of emotion.
Dustpelt nods, flicking his ear and turning to face her. "I'm sorry," he says, breaking eye contact and looking anywhere but her face. "About Firestar, I mean. It's hard, I know."
At the mention of her deceased mate, Sandstorm closes her eyes and breathes in heavily. It's been only four days after the battle, and each moment her heart throbbed with grief and agony. She nods opening her eyes again and looking at her long-time friend.
"I'm so sorry about Ferncloud, too. I know how much you loved her," she meows, leaning forward and touching her nose to his muzzle.
Dustpelt just stills for a moment, before he nods slightly, making her take her nose away from his pelt for just a moment.
"It's okay," he mews, voice almost a whisper. "No amount of praying will bring her back – I know that. I just have to wait until my time."
Sandstorm gives him a very weak laugh. "Come on, don't talk about leaving me just yet. We still have Graystripe to torment."
Dustpelt sighs, rolling his eyes. "You're never going to let me live down our apprentice days, are you?" he asks, butting his muzzle against her flank.
Sandstorm just flicks her ear. "You haven't let me forget everything I said to Firestar when he first came to the Clan," she points out, surprising herself at how she hardly bats an eye to the mention of him. Is that a good sign?
Dustpelt shrugs. "We were terrible back then."
"We really were."
They are silent after that, both old friends who are grieving for their old mates taking solace in each others company, remembering that, even though things were heavy and suffocating right now, they still had each other. They still had memories and that powerful, amazing thought that when StarClan finally began to whisper their names, they'd have long lost friends and their mates waiting for them.
Dustpelt sighs. "I can't wait to see Redtail and Longtail again," he meows, a distant look in his eyes. "I'm going to see Ferncloud first, when I pass, but I can't wait to see the old Clan."
It's a depressing topic, but it gives her hope that she had no idea was there. She smiles, looking up to the great, blue sky and taking a breath.
"I want to see Whitestorm again so badly," she tells him, looking down at her paws. "I owe him so much – he was like a father to me."
Dustpelt nods, and then shifts. "All of this will take a bit," he meows, smiling slightly. "We still have a misfit Clan we need to take care of right now."
Sandstorm groans. "Yes. Especially Berrynose – he's still on my watch list after he tore up my nest during one of his weird hunting dreams."
Dustpelt gives her an amused look. "How many cats is on your list now? I remember when Squirrelflight and Leafpool were born, Leopardstar was on the top of it."
Sandstorm shrugs. "You don't call me a liar when I say that I'm one of the best hunters in the Clan and expect me not to watch you like a hawk – you just don't."
When Dustpelt laughs, Sandstorm thinks that, maybe just for now, everything can be just a little bit better. They don't have to be stuck in grief.
They'll be okay, she's sure of it.
iii. we got a little world of our own
Thornclaw stamps a paw on one of the tendrils, holding it there for a moment to solidify it's place, before taking it off, satisfied at today's finished work.
"I think we're done for the day," he meows to Spiderleg and Whitewing, who nod and head off to perform other duties. He turns back to the barrier, overlooking it one last time – just in case there's any faults in his work (there usually isn't because he's done this so many times – seriously, how many times has he been assigned to do the wall with Dustpelt and Spideleg?).
A small sigh comes from behind him, and he turns around, half expecting a ghostly warrior to stand behind him, teeth bared and eyes ablaze with barley-there sanity and an agenda to kill him. But there's only little Hazeltail standing there, and amused look in her green eyes.
A small bit of insecurity prickles through his fur, and Thornclaw blinks, frowning. "What? Is there a burr on my back or something?"
Hazeltail just flicks her short-furred tail, smiling as she shakes her head. "You sent Spiderleg and Whitewing away, but you're still looking over the barrier?" Smirking, she pads past him, sitting in front of the wall and nudging his flank as she passes. Narrowing her gaze, Hazeltail overlooks the wall, rolling her eyes after a few seconds. He takes a seat next to her, flattening his ears but saying nothing to her.
"I don't see any flaws here," she tells him, glancing at him with a smirk. "You work too much around the camp – you need to relax more often."
Thornclaw straightens his spine and tuts in disapproval. "What's wrong with working around the camp all the time? If it weren't for me, you'd still have that leak above your nest," he points out, a faint memory of Hazeltail, shy and a new warrior, asking him if he could help her fix the hole in the roof above her nest.
Hazeltail looks away for a second, her face ducking, and he can see something in her eyes, something that looks a little too familiar, but he pushes it away when she says: "Thank you for that, again."
Thornclaw blinks, shrugging and looking toward the barrier again. "You asked for my help. It's only common courtesy that I gave you assistance."
She regards him with a forthright stare. "You sound so old sometimes," she points out, a smile gracing her face and just a little bit of teeth poking out. "I've never heard someone sound so proper when they're talking."
He narrows his gaze. "Well, I could be sound like an idiot if you want me to," he points out, flicking his tail and smirking.
Hazeltail shakes her head, drawing her tail over his flank. "A smug Thornclaw: truly a rare sight in nature."
He rolls his eyes, allowing a comfortable silence to sit between them for a few heartbeats. He's aware of the small, hesitant glances that she keeps sending his way, the touch of her tail tip against his own, and the undeniable amount of heat that goes through his body when she brushes her pelt against his.
She was a sweet cat, no doubt, an average warrior – except for her agility; the way that she was able to catch a squirrel through three trees, jumping on the branches and finally landing on it? That was amazing. Thornclaw didn't miss the small remarks that his sister, Brightheart, made about him never attaining a mate, or the sharp tingle of desire that when through him whenever he saw a pair of mates together, enjoying each others company in a way that Thornclaw had never – and may never, if he were being honest – known.
"Earth to Thornclaw?" Hazeltail's slightly hesitant tone causes him to jolt, and Thornclaw looks at her, blinking and frowning. "We're still kind of facing the wall here...," she tells him, nodding her head to the barrier.
He looks to her, regarding the small she-cat next to him; she was pretty, undeniably so, what with sparkling green eyes, and unevenly perfect gray patches in her snow white fur. And he liked her (a lot); they had good conversations, small and playful banters.
Hazeltail frowns, ducking away from his stare and looking at her paws, continuously glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. "Is there something on my face?" she asks quietly, rubbing a paw on her muzzle.
"N-no," he says, hating his stutter. After a moment, he smiles, gesturing to the gorse tunnel. "Do you uh...want to go hunting?"
She looks at him, blinking, before she smiles, nodding and slipping past him. "I'd love to."
iv. rate yourself and rake yourself
Blackstar feels the crack in his stiff joints and sighs despondently, flopping down in his nest once again and resting his head on his massive black paws, hating how rheumy his eyes have become in his old age.
More like ancient, he thinks, scrunching up his nose bridge and allowing his lip to curl in distaste. I'm twice the age of Firestar - and yet, here I am, still kicking. He blinks, closing his eyes for a brief moment and sighing, having half the mind to just take a nap for a while, just to rest himself and take his mind off of his personal problems - something that the Clan definitely doesn't need to worry about now.
"Blackstar," the raspy and timid voice wakes him from his deep thoughts, and he opens a single eye to see Littlecloud, his ever faithful medicine cat, standing in the entrance to the den, baby blue eyes glittering in a calm state. "I'd like to have a word with you."
What did I get accused of this time, He sighs, picking himself up and sitting up straight, nodding to the small cat and watching as he enters the den, sitting a whisker length away from the dry moss tendrils.
"I just want to tell you I forgive you."
Blackstar blinks, completely thrown off track because what? He's never really done anything to Littlecloud - given a reprimanding remark here and there, or maybe snapped at him from time to time, but he's never actually done anything to him. Unless...
Littlecloud must have sensed his confusion, because he sighs, blinking up at his leader with a respect that Blackstar is positive he's never seen before.
"For what you did in Brokenstar and Tigerstar's time. All those things that you did - things that, I'll be honest, I never was really able to look past," he begins, causing Blackstar to advert his gaze from him because oh. He knows that not every cat is able to look past his dark deeds
(when he's alone at night, sleeping, he can still smell the blood, still feel it on his paws, seeping between his toes, and he can hear himself growling, hissing, and spitting, killing cat after cat all because Brokenstar and Tigerstar told him to. He was a simple attack dog, nothing more in those days)
but he's never expected his medicine cat, who experienced his siblings death and who had to see a vicious part of him that Blackstar never wants to revisit, to say that to his face.
"I forgive you."
Blackstar frowns, and nods slightly. "I...thank you."
Littlecloud stares up at him for a moment, before looking down, tracing shapes in the dirt with a toe.
And now this is officially awkward.
"Why are you telling me this now?" he asks suddenly, looking down at Littlecloud and flicking his ear as the medicine cat shrugs.
"We're getting old, Blackstar," the small tabby begins with a sigh, and Blackstar holds back a snort. I am old. "And there's no use in me resenting you still for something you did so long ago. There never has been," he tells him, shaking his head.
"Part of me has always been angry at you and Russetfur for the things you did back in those days - the things that you won't talk about because you know that they - that you - were wrong," Littlecloud's eyes glaze over with pain and memories, and Blackstar forces down the overwhelming feeling to push his face into his black paws like a kit being scolded by it's mother. But he doesn't because he's Blackstar and Blackstar is no kitten, alright?
"But now, because of the battle and my age, because of Flametail...," Littlecloud closes his eyes for a brief moment. "I'm learning that I need to stop resenting and being angry at you for what you did in the past, because you have well redeemed yourself now."
Blackstar regards his medicine cat, feeling an overwhelming surge of peace go through him. He's never pondered on his past too much; wasting time sifting through those dark memories will do him no justice. But to know that Littlecloud, one of the last living cats who knew him as Blackfoot, the fearsome and ruthless deputy, who saw him slaughter the brave warrior Stonefur at Bonehill, who was a small and tortured apprentice, who just needed someone to help him, forgives him...it's such a welcoming feeling.
He smiles despite his normal scowl, and nods. "Thank you, Littlecloud," he meows, feeling a bit more at peace.
Littlecloud just nods, getting to his paws and turning around, until Blackstar gives out a small growl, causing him to turn rapidly.
"Don't say that you're old, Littlecloud," he tells him, twitching his whiskers. "You still have time left - I don't need you giving into age and passing on and leaving me as the only half-sane cat standing."
Littlecloud rolls his eyes, letting out a small laugh and shaking his head. "I'll do my best to."
I've still got two lives left, he thinks as he lays down, curling his tail over his nose and sighing in relaxation. And I'm going to make the best of them.
v. have a new name and face
Sol stares up at the purple and pink sky, the horizon a ball of yellow and gold.
His long fur, that was one thick and glossy, soft to the touch, is becoming matted and grimy; he no longer has anyone to impress with appearances. His mother is probably dead, who knows or cares where his father is, and his siblings have probably long forgotten about their kithood and him. SkyClan and the old forest were no longer an option; he searched the area before coming to the lake, and found nothing worth saving - all twolegs and twoleg dens. Kittypets, but they weren't anything to be desired for manipulation.
And the lake? Like that was even an option. Hollyleaf and that little gray cat would be cursing his name to StarClan (if it was even real) and back if they saw his face again. And he didn't even want to know what Blackstar or ShadowClan would do to him.
He had no one anymore. He was no one.
A faceless, messy rouge in the twolegplace with no where to go to and no one to care for or about him. To every other cat, he was just another enemy, just another cat to push down further on the food chain, just another tom to compete with for a mate.
Sol looks down at his paws, gets up, and jumps down the fence, landing on the hard gray ground and beginning to walk forward. To where? Like he knew. But he had to remain a little optimistic, even if he didn't think there was anything to care about anymore.
He looks down at the path he was taking, seeing a fence cutting off the sidewalk, a dead end. He sighs, rolling his eyes at the minor detour, and looking to his left. A whole new section in the twolegplace, one he didn't have time for to discover, opens in front of him.
Sol puts out a paw onto the asphalt, thankful that it isn't sunhigh; the sun bakes the thunderpath everyday, making it unbearable for his tender paw pads. The tortoiseshell tom looks down the other direction, checking for monsters, before taking off at full speed, hating how his bones ache from a sudden surge of use.
He makes it onto the other side of the path, shakes out his fur, and continues forward again. He makes it about a good five pawsteps before a heavy weight crashes into his side, and he's knocked to the side, pain pulsing through his fur. Sol can feel his ribs practically snap underneath the weight of whatever hit him, and he lets out a holler of pain.
He passes out after that, feeling himself being lifted from the ground, hears shouting that hurts too much to try and decipher, and then black.
When he wakes up, dizzy and his head pounding in pain, he is met with a brown face, staring at him with wide dark blue eyes.
Sol recoils instantly, hissing and trying to get away from this new cat, but a great wave of pain forces him to halt and ouch that hurt.
"I'm sorry! Did I scare you?" the she-cat asks, backing away from him and flicking her ears back.
Sol curls his lip, fur prickling up and eyes narrowing as a warning. "You'd do best to back away," he snaps, causing fear to gleam in the kittypet's dark eyes. "I've got claws, kitty, and I'm definitely won't hesitate to use them on you if you don't back up."
Her eyes widen in shock and glee, and Sol stares right back, confused because why would she be happy about a strange cat threatening her?
"How did you know my name?" she asks incredulously, blinking.
Sol blinks slowly. "Your...name?"
"Kitty! You said my name!" She practically squeals in delight, jumping up to all fours and twitching her whiskers, smiling at him. "How did you know it?"
Some twolegs named their cat Kitty, he thinks, having half the mind to burst out laughing. How original.
"I must be psychic." He tells her, rolling his eyes and flicking his tail-tip up slowly.
Kitty blinks. "Wow, you are? That's totally cool! I've never met a psychic cat before!" She tells him, sitting way too close to him. How was she not threatened, again? "Wait - if you're psychic, then you totally must know what I'm thinking right now, right?"
You can't be serious.
"You're thinking about how happy you are that I'm psychic," he guesses with half-interest as he turns, surveying the side that he was hit with...whatever on. A thick, white substance that was way too clean and soft to be cobwebs are wrapped around his flank. "Hey, Kitty, what happened?" he asks, looking to the white she-cat with the odd dark brown markings.
"One of my younger housefolk hit you with his bike," she tells him quickly, before purring in delight. "And wow! That was exactly what I was thinking! You're, like, super cool! What's your name?" she asks, causing Sol to pause from his thoughts.
This place was new. This she-cat, though she was really annoying and dumb, was new, and maybe she could be of some use to him.
Sol's time was over. Sol was a failure; a cat who tried multiple times and kind of sort of succeeded, but overall just came out as a failure and a mockery of everything that he believed in.
Sol didn't matter anymore.
"Cielo," he tells her after a moment of thinking, taking in a deep breath and meeting her excitable gaze. "My name is Cielo."
And Cielo would be better than Sol was.
He was sure of it.
vi. i'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side
Firestar smiles.
StarClan is amazing, it really is - there's all of his old friends, cats that he wasn't sure about seeing anymore, cats that he never knew he'd be so happy to see, and, above all, there's peace.
But he misses Spottedleaf.
She's gone forever, and he has Sandstorm to wait for, but he misses her.
"You were supposed to wait for me!" He can remember himself snarling to the sky, on one of his first days in StarClan. "You promised! I waited and waited, but you're not here!"
Maybe she's still here, he thinks, looking over at where Bluestar and Whitestorm are speaking to Redtail - he really has to get to know the small tortoiseshell, because after trying so long to help this cat get justice, he deserves to be known - about something. Maybe not like I am, but she's...in the air. She's here somehow, I know it.
The faint scent of her in the breeze, that one glimmer of hope that comes through his nose and makes him look up, searching for that dappled-and-white coat and those warm and welcoming amber eyes, but she's never there. But always, whenever he's alone for a moment after spending so much time catching up with his long lost friends and Clanmates, there's that faint smell in the air.
That thought alone makes him think that, maybe, she's still here.
Maybe she really did do her all to keep her promise.
vii. isn't she lovely
Cinderheart looks up to the starry night sky, a week and two days after the battle, and then looks back down, through the trees, where the lake was only a tiny, glittering dark blue strip in between the undergrowth on the horizon.
She smiles, takes a deep breath, and walks forward, doing her best to be careful - in her new condition, she had no idea what was too reckless, what was safe, what was neutral. It was her first, after all.
(And, with him, she prays that it's not going to be her last.)
Cinderpelt, give me strength to tell him without purring too much, she thinks, smiling even wider at the mention of the former medicine cat that she really owed everything to.
Lionblaze waits for her by the lake, fluffy golden pelt outlined with white as his back is turned to her. She hesitates for another moment, takes another deep breath, and then says:
"Lionblaze."
He turns, eyes full of such a powerful emotion that it makes her heart flutter and her pelt prickle at it's intensity. The large tabby pads swiftly toward her, rubbing his muzzle against hers and purring. They stay like that for a few moments, wrapped in each others embrace, before they pull apart, Lionblaze overlooking her with now curious eyes.
"What did you have to tell me that couldn't be said in camp?" he asks, twitching his ear and narrowing his eyes. A sudden look of panic takes forth, and she can see his fur begin to rise up. "You're not...it's not about destinies or anything, right? Are you going to break up with me again? Tell me you're not."
Cinderheart sighs, shaking her head and putting a paw on his shoulder to still him. "No, Lionblaze - we've gone over that," she tells him, smiling and giving his muzzle a lick. She takes her paw off of him, but allows it to hang just a bit over the ground. "You never need to worry about that anymore."
He stares at her, blinking slowly and not yet fully understanding what she's saying exactly.
Cinderheart purrs, allowing her tail to sweep around her paws before meowing: "I'm pregnant."
viii. running in circles
Nightcloud stares across the lake, watching the tiny dark shapes of cats on the other side without any particular interest. The black warrior hardly moves, her tail laying out straight behind her and yellow eyes emotionless. Deep in thought, she didn't notice the cat approaching behind her, pawsteps quiet and light, as to not make it's presence known.
She just blinks, slowly, one time, before sighing. "I know you're there, Crowfeather," she snaps out, her tail tip curling upwards. "Stop slinking around like a ShadowClan warrior and face me."
The dark gray tom just pauses, sighing, and pads forward, smaller compared to his mate,
(or maybe his ex-mate? Neither of them were quite sure at this point what they were)
and sits down, enough space between them so he can get away just in case she'd try and slice open his skull.
Nightcloud turns to him, eyes still on the lake, before they snap to him, pure satisfaction going though her as she sees the tom flinch at the ferocity of her gaze. She narrows her eyes, having half the mind to curl her lip and snarl at him.
"What do you want?"
Crowfeather sighs, looking away from her and to the lakeside. "I wanted to ask why you haven't been speaking to me this past week."
She laughs; it's emotionless, but it's enough to make him stare at her in surprise, blue eyes round with shock and maybe a little concern. "Like you don't know," she answers, tearing her gaze from him and looking forward once again.
"I don't," he growls defensively, the pebbles moving as he shifts his paws. "That's why I asked you in the first place."
She just rolls her eyes, refusing to look at him in the face. "Maybe when you understand why I would ever be mad at you, you can come and try to apologize for everything you did to me." She tells him.
His silence penetrates her skull, making her insides churn with hurt and sadness because he still doesn't get it. He doesn't understand why she and Breezepelt have been ignoring him and using every excuse to get away from him. Maybe he'll never truly understand what he did wrong - either that, or he's just too proud to admit that he could've handled everything so much better
(they all could've - she could've handled everything much better)
then he did.
"I didn't do anything to you," he meows quietly, and that's really all it takes.
Her mean, pushy composure is gone for a split second - just a second - and there she is, gasping out, biting her lip, and closing her eyes, ducking her head away from the only tom who has ever really captured her heart. Nightcloud realizes then that this - the push and pull of their rocky relationship, the insults that they throw each others way more often then not - it's not working out.
(It never has.)
Nightcloud gulps, allowing her normal scowl to take place on her face once more. She remains stoic and devoid of any of her eternal emotions when she simply states: "Leave."
He hesitates for a moment, still not getting it, but finally just nods, blinking and getting to his paws, turning away and disappearing.
Nightcloud stares at the spot that he was in just for a few moments, looking at the disturbed pebbles, the tiny pieces of fur that he left behind, before looking away, back to the lake.
She has to do what's best for her, she realizes.
Even if it hurts.
ix. show me what i'm looking for
Mothwing pads up to the edge of the Moonpool and swallows the lump in her throat.
She stares down at the clear pool of meltwater, the sacred water that she's always had such a disinterest for, and takes a very deep breath, struggling to find a reason to do what she's about to do - to try and find her own reason of why this is necessary.
"You can't deny what you've seen," Willowshine tells her, pushing the marigold aside and staring up at her mentor with pleading green eyes. "You saw all of them, Mothwing - the StarClan warriors. They were here, and they protected us. You know that."
Yes, she knows that she saw those starry, ghostly cats fending off the Dark Forest warriors. But did she want to believe it - that they were actually real and that she was wrong all along? Not really. Pride sort of runs in the family.
But here she was now, about to finally take a drink of the Moonpool's water and see what happened next. She was about to go against everything that she had so carefully crafted herself to believe in, and was going to take a chance. She knew it was stupid - to be so defensive of her belief's when they were sort of proven to be wrong - but she just has to know for sure. Has to know that, without a doubt, StarClan was real.
It'd make a lot of things a whole lot easier.
Mothwing closes her eyes for a small moment, opens them, and lays down, taking a long drink of the water - which isn't that bad, if she said so herself - and curling up into a ball, fluffy tail curled underneath her nose and over her paws.
"Look who's finally here," a voice says with a sigh, causing Mothwing to blink, looking up and frowning. That voice was definitely familiar - and, as always, she could tell that it's speaker had a scowl on her face. She always did, no matter the occasion.
Mothwing cracks a weak smile, shaking her head at the sudden wave of happiness that goes through her when she hears the long-dead cat speak to her. "Aren't you happy to see me, Leopardstar?" she asks, gasping as the spotted tabby pads from the shadows, golden fur no longer patchy and grimy - still short, but gleaming in prime health and not a burr in sight. Eyes that were once rheumy and glassy are now clear, full of an emotion that Mothwing had never really seen before in the golden she-cat's gaze: happiness.
"Of course I am, mousebrain," she hisses, and though a hiss would usually make other cats offended, Mothwing knew her old leader well enough to know that it was an affectionate hiss. Leopardstar just shakes her head, sighing and cocking her head to the side, a questioning look being handed to Mothwing. "What took you so long?"
"I...I wasn't sure what to believe," she tells her, shaking her head. Mothwing smiles once again, and shrugs. "I'm still not fully confident that I'm a StarClan worshiper...but I think that my personal beliefs and StarClan can coexist together."
When Mothwing wakes up, after spending the rest of her dream with old, lost Clanmates and cats that she hasn't seen for a very long time, she feels so much better then she really ever has.
Will she start saying "Great StarClan" or begin to pray to them? No. But she now realizes that she can finally respect the deceased cats of the celestial Clan properly, and she honestly can't wait until she tells Leafpool all about her experience at the next Gathering.
x. and i'm so alone
Purdy yawns, blinking watery amber eyes and licking a paw, drawing it over his ear. He sits there for a few moments, blinking and shifting in his nest, when another story pops into his mind - like they usually do - and he laughs.
"Eh, Mousefur, did I ever tell ya about-" When he turns, he is greeted with an empty nest.
Oh. Right.
xi. when the storm ends
All Graystripe can think about for the first few days after the battle is a memory.
It's of him, creeping through the bushes, smirking and triumphant because he'll finally be able to prove to Lionheart and Bluestar that he can do what he sets his mind to, that he's not just some jumpy and scatterbrained kitten that can't even do a simple crouch. He's found his quarry, and he's not going to disappoint them.
He leaps forward, catching a small body underneath his paws. They tussle and fight, the kittypet surprisingly strong, and then they stop.
"I'm Graypaw."
"I'm Rusty."
He stares down at his paws, closing his eyes and putting his head on his paws, struggling to find sleep even though he knows it won't come.
One day, I'm going to be so big and strong that I'll be able to fight off all of ShadowClan!
(It's such a lie, because he couldn't even fight off one cat to save his best friends life.)
xii. just a fool
Blossomfall wishes that it'd been her instead of Hollyleaf.
No one wanted her, anyway.
xiii. for reasons unknown
Princess is sitting on the fence, watching those pesky little yellow birds flutter about and chirp, when she feels a sharp chill go through the air, half of her mind suddenly going through a stage of grief that she really has no idea where it's coming from. She shakes it off, sighing and forcing a smile onto her face when she hears her housefolk call her name, purring in delight.
When she pads inside, for some reason, all she can think about is Firestar. Were he and Cloudtail alright? Were they sick or maybe even-
That's silly, she thinks with a shake of her head, leaping up onto the fluffy couch where one of her twolegs were sitting, allowing the space between her ears to be stroked. Firestar is the bravest cat I know. He's going to outlive me, probably.
xiv. it's a beautiful day
Stormfur sighs in content, allowing Brook to lean further onto him. He purrs, licking his mate's cheek gently, and turning back to watch the sunset on the horizon, pink and gold intermingled with the purpleish-blue of the sky.
The Tribe was at peace; it had been for many moons, ever since Squirrelflight and Jayfeather left. Lark and Pine were now to-be's, training for their adult positions as a cave-guard and a prey-hunter, respectively. And, above all, the new Stoneteller has adjusted to his position well, the entire atmosphere of the cave relaxed and composed.
All in all, Stormfur was content, happy. He no longer had to worry of any rogues coming into his territory, no longer had to hear insults from other Tribe members thrown he and Brook's way, and had two beautiful kits to take care of, to protect.
And Brook was by his side for every moment of it - just like she promised she would be, all those moons ago.
xv. it's my revenge
Thistleclaw paces, ignoring the holler of yet another cat in pain.
Mapleshade was torturing yet another one of the weaker Dark Forest cats ("You didn't fight back hard enough! Let me show you how a real warrior fights!"), as she had been doing for...however long it'd been since the battle had ended.
After they had (shamefully) been chased back into the Dark Forest by StarClan and living cats, he had found the fearsome tortoiseshell, practically toppled over, and running a rough tongue through her matted and torn fur, lapping at her wounds in a primitive form of healing. Thistleclaw was in no better state himself - what with his right ear now just a stump, left eye almost closed shut from the massive gash underneath his eye (courtesy of Bluestar - when he got his claws on her again...), and patches of fur being replaced by pink flesh and blood.
Mapleshade had regarded him with a contemptuous stare, wild yellow eyes ablaze with murderous fury. But she did not drive him away, only continuing to stare at him, as if challenging him to try and take a swipe at her or degrade her in any way.
But he said nothing, only abiding her a small nod before laying himself on the ground with a wince, and beginning to tend to his own wounds.
"I'll flay that kittypet-enabler," she hissed suddenly, now furiously licking the slash that ran the length of her shoulder. "And her little daughters too. That whole Clan will know my name to StarClan and back when I'm done with them."
He continued to say nothing, choosing silence because he wasn't sure what he could say at this point. She must've either appreciated his lack of voice or simply did not care for it, because she said nothing to him directly, continuing to ramble on about all the tortures she'd do to their former Clan.
Thistleclaw had chosen to stay with the ragged she-cat, unsure of what else he could do at this point. Darkstripe had disappeared, but it wasn't like it was any fur off of the dark gray tom's pelt. So, in all honesty, it was just the two of them, former senior Dark Forest warriors, ripped from their prestige and now stuck with the lowly cats, trying to do anything to get back on top.
He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't even realize that the yowls of agony had stopped, only lifting his head in recognition when the undergrowth shifted and a scarred head popped out, leaves shoved aside for the rest of the large cat's body.
Mapleshade just hisses, lashing her unusually snow-white tail and beginning to pad off without a word to him.
Taking this as his queue, Thistleclaw follows her, taking a small stride until he caught up to her hind leg, slowing down to a comfortable trot.
"We need to find smarter cats," she tells him suddenly, voice low but still unkind. "The cats I've been torturing are as dumb as a badger. If I'm ever going to get my revenge, I need smarter cats."
Thistleclaw just nods - he hasn't been saying much, these days. After the death of almost every senior Dark Forest warrior, watching the Clans unite as one, just to drive them off and protect each other...he feels as if there's nothing to say.
But I do know one thing, he thinks as he trails after Mapleshade, narrowing his gaze. Bluestar will pay.
He'd see to that.
xvi. let us move on
Kestrelflight sits next to Swallowtail, both cats eerily silent.
The medicine cat did not say anything to the small she-cat at his side; he continues to stare out into the open moor, fur brushing up against hers every once and a while in console, not affection. He knew the rules.
"He said his name," she whispers again, eyes filling with horror for a few heartbeats, before the fern-green was replaced with the dark gray of her eyelids, the warrior struggling to calm herself as her short fur began to prickle upwards. "He said his name."
Kestrelflight nods, choosing not to meet the gaze that was turned to him, twitching his whiskers and letting out a deep sigh. "I know."
Swallowtail sighs, now looking down at her paws and shaking her head. "That Silverhawk cat - he said Antpelt's name, Kestrelflight," When he finally looks over, he sees that she was staring at him, eyes round with grief. "How did he know his name? How?"
Kestrelflight blinks, leaning over to touch his nose to the space behind her eyes, before pulling back, allowing the hurt and confused she-cat to lean on his shoulder. "You know how, Swallowtail," he says gently. "You know."
Swallowtail shudders, shaking her head and burying her nose in his neck fur and letting out a held-back sob. "I want to be wrong. I don't- I can't believe that Antpelt would join those rouges. He'd never...," she trails off, shaking her head. "He'd have told me. He would've, wouldn't he?"
For second time in his medicine cat career - the first being when he saw Antpelt, bloodied and torn up with no explanation - Kestrelflight was practically clueless. No cat knew why Antpelt would want to join those cats; he was pretty well liked among WindClan. They'd probably never know what drove him over the edge like that.
But he doesn't say any of that aloud; Swallowtail didn't need to here that.
So he settles for: "Maybe he didn't know how to."
All Kestrelflight really knows at this point is that they all need to put this in the past; looking at the she-cat beside him now, grieving and staying hung up on this tom who was her almost-mate, he knew that staying back then would do no good.
They had to move on.
xvii. i've been waiting for a long time
Brick lays down, puts her head on her stiff paws, and tries to close her eyes - but the collar around her neck pokes on the ground and on her old joints, making it extremely hard to find a comfortable position and to just rest.
She was ancient, now. Her bones protruded from her body in an extremely unappealing way, she hardly had any teeth left in her jaws, her claws had begun to curl in towards her pads long ago, when it became to tiresome to try and manage them, and her fur was becoming more gray and patchy then it was in her prime. In short, Brick was a walking skeleton - practically hanging on by a thread.
All of the cats in the twolegplace looked at her with suspicion - having that natural respect for an elder, but not quite understanding how one got to such an age; most cats here lived to be about five years of age, if lucky. The life of a rouge was short and rouge, most dying from sickness, starvation, or injury, very, very rarely from old age. No one really ever died a peaceful death here.
"What keeps you here, Brick?" one of the youngsters asks, hazel-colored eyes wide with an innocent curiosity. "What's so special about this place to you that you don't give into death yet?" The question was not asked maliciously, and she didn't take it to offense.
The dark red she-cat pauses from eating her small chicken - one of the younger cats had given it to her as a gift, noting how she couldn't do it herself anymore - and gives the small brown tabby a simple shrug, casting watery yellow eyes to the cloudy sky.
"I'm waiting." It's always her answer to the question, no matter how it's phrased, or who asks it. And, of course, her response gets even more questions attached for it, all worded differently, but basically saying: "For what?"
She never told.
Brick sighs, allowing her hind legs to sprawl out and her tail to rest on top of a limb, flicking her ear to drive away one of those pesky little flies. She had been waiting for a long, long time.
She was waiting for peace - for a day to come where the rogues of the twolegplace could live in harmony with one another, no more fights, no more living in fear...just doing nice things for each other to be nice, not for personal gain or easier manipulation. For a time where a she-cat was not in fear to leave her kittens unattended even for a heartbeat, where elders - not just her, but younger ones, ones who did not carry the sacred collar of a former BloodClan cat - were cared for.
She had been waiting ever since the downfall of BloodClan, and would keep on waiting.
I have time, she thinks as she closes her eyes, allowing a rare smile to slip on her face. I'll wait even if I can't even pick up my head the next morning. As long as it takes, to know that I've actually done something in my life - not being known for being one of the last members of BloodClan.
And she'd continue to wait, even if it took another set of seasons.
xviii. all i need is a second chance
They weren't close anymore.
Ratscar knew this; he saw it in the way his sister's green eyes reflect nothing but betrayal and shock, the way that she only spoke short and necessary words to him ("Thank you.", "I need you on this patrol.", "Hunt over there.", "Stay away.").
Granted, he and Snowbird had never been dependent on one another or spent a lot of time together in their later apprentice and warrior days - Ratscar became enveloped in his warrior duties and Snowbird went on to become a mother - but they still shared moments together, looking over one another after a battle and making sure that they were both okay. They did not sleep next to each other, but on especially bad nights, when a Dark Forest training session leaves him raw and in pain, and he shivers in horror, she'll crawl over to him, nuzzling his fur and murmuring sayings that their mother used to say.
That didn't happen anymore.
Now, Snowbird only gave him a look full of disappointment whenever she believed he wasn't looking, refusing to make eye contact with him and moving to the other side of the camp whenever he padded over to get a piece of fresh kill from the pile.
Even though she wasn't really gone, even if he honestly could pad up to her, sit her down and try to talk to her, he misses his littermate. She's always offered such a gentle comfort to him, and to see her ignore him like this - because he kept this horrible, horrible secret from her for so long.
"That Dark Forest cat...he wasn't lying, then," Snowbird whispers, her voice shaking, her eyes round with horror. "You trained with them. You were one of them."
Ratscar gulps, shaking his head and frowning. "I just wanted to be a better warrior," he tells her, voice becoming a little too desperate for his liking. "I had no idea, Snowbird - I swear on Star-"
"Don't you dare say their name, Ratscar," Her voice shakes with well-held off rage, and Ratscar was shocked beyond belief to see his normal sweet and well-composed sister about ready to slash a new scar across his muzzle. "You lied. You lied to me, you lied to the Clan..." She was struggling now, her voice wavering and her eyes breaking contact with him, falling to the floor and her fur fluffing up along her spine. "I can't believe that I was stupid enough to believe you when you said that all those scratches were for nothing. When you told me you didn't know where that sprained paw came from. I let you play with my kits, I comforted you...," An almost murderous look glints in her green eyes, and Ratscar took a large step back in fear, ears flattening and eyes widening.
"I never, ever want you to speak to me again. Don't play with my kits. Don't try and be my friend again - don't do any of that."
From across the camp, Ratscar meets his sisters gaze; they lock for a moment, orange against green, and he tries to push every emotion he can into his gaze - the pleading for her to understand, the regret he felt for actually following through with his training, the anger he felt at the entire situation, and the sadness and guilt he faced because she didn't want to speak to him anymore.
All it took was a small shake of her snow-white head for Ratscar to lower his gaze in defeat.
xix. we're going to be friends
Ashfur finds Hollyleaf huddled next to a small bed of reeds almost two weeks after the last battle and her death.
He's been looking for her - and he knows that she's spent her time avoiding him.
Of course, it's not like he blames the black she-cat; he's the reason she was forced to leave her birth Clan, the reason a crack grew in everything that she held so dear and true to her heart, and probably the reason that she was dead now. Perhaps if he hadn't of been so jealous of Bramblestar and Squirrelflight's relationship, if he had just been peaceful and excepted that he just wasn't the tom for her, she would've somehow avoided Hawkfrost's claws.
He steps near the reeds, keeping his paws light and silent; honestly, he's expecting her to whirl around and launch at him if he came at her like a lumbering badger. But he pauses a fox-length away, closes his eyes for a small moment, and clears his throat.
Hollyleaf's ears prick, and her green eyes turn on him. They widen for a second, taking in his appearance, and then narrow in suspicion and anger, the dark-furred warrior leaping to her paws and giving him a hard stare.
"What are you doing here?" she hisses, lashing her tail back and forth. He can hear a small crack, and glances down quickly to see thorn-sharp claws digging into the grass.
Ashfur takes a small step back. "We need to talk."
Hollyleaf's ears go back for a moment, a dangerous look casting in her eyes. "If you even try anything, I swear to here and back that you'll wish you were born a she-cat," she snarls, and instantly, Ashfur feels uncomfortable - that's definitely a crude insult he's never heard before.
But, never the less, he takes in a deep breath and frowns. "I'm sorry."
She stares right back at him, blinking in sudden curiosity.
"I shouldn't have done what I did to you," he begins, shaking his head in shame. "I ruined everything you believed in, I forced you to find out a secret that you weren't mature enough to understand, and I took away almost everything you had. I ruined your life, Hollyleaf, and for that, I'm so sorry."
To his surprise, the fur on her back begins to slowly lie flat, the flame in her eyes dying down and her claws, thankfully, going back into their sheaths.
"I'm sorry too," she tells him, frowning. "I killed you - it's not like I had a good reaction to learning the secret of my birth, and I'm sorry that you had to pay for it."
He sighs in relief. "So...we're on a better level, now?"
She frowns, looking as if she's contemplating, before nodding, still looking unsure, but giving him a ghost of a smile. "We're not exactly buddies right now," she tells him, and he nods in complete understanding. It's not like he'll suddenly forgive her for murdering him. "but we are on better terms. At least you said you were sorry - and meant it."
They stand there for a few moments, in an awkward and uncomfortable silence, before Ashfur looks up, giving her a small smile. "So...have you experienced Yellowfang, yet?" he asks, causing the black she-cat to prick her ears in interest.
"Yellowfang...she was the extremely grumpy former medicine cat, right? Cinderpelt's mentor?" she asks.
Ashfur nods. "That's the one," He sighs, shaking his head and turning, nodding toward the clearing and beckoning for her to follow him. Slowly, but surely, the she-cat got to her paws, beginning to follow him. "The first day I came here, she gave me a whole speech on how, if I ever tried to get revenge on you or your brothers again, she'd put me into some continuous time-loop thing and make me experience a queen giving birth multiple times over," He shudders at the memory. "I don't really know if she can actually do that, but I don't doubt Yellowfang - she once made about a dozen StarClan apprentices run for their mothers when she found out they put the wrong kind of moss for her nest."
Hollyleaf glances at him, blinking slowly. "There's a wrong kind of moss?"
He sighs, nodding. "She's insane, I tell you."
"Who's insane?" Both jump as they hear the said she-cat, turning and seeing her giving them a wild stare. "If you're talking about me, random flecked cat," Seriously? he thinks, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. She knows my name one day, and forgets it the next! "You're going to be in my Clan of doom - destination: extreme pain!" She hisses, causing them both to jump in surprise.
He and Hollyleaf share a glance.
"She's old and lazy," he whispers to her, causing the black she-cat to grin in understanding. "She's not going to catch us if we bolt for the stream!"
Yeah, he thinks as they both turn tail and practically launch toward the calm water, Yellowfang slowly chasing after them and screaming out more terrifying insults in her wake. I think we're on better terms now.
And, honestly, Ashfur couldn't have been happier.
xx. how do you last the night and keep the dogs at bay?
She shivers in her sleep, eyelids twitching and paws tingling in fear.
She can see him; the tom who she thought she could trust, standing over the body of a cat she wish she had more time to known, grinning in malice and putting out a paw towards her, coming closer to kill her-
But he never comes; she always wakes up at this part, breathing heavily and struggling to calm herself, trying to find a peaceful place in her mind even though she knows there's no where to really turn to anymore. She's been this way ever since the battle, having the same nightmare over and over again, smelling blood and seeing bodies that had disappeared long before, in a constant fear.
Ivypool shakes her head, clearing away the thoughts from her mind and closing her eyes, shaking with flattened ears.
She gets up, carefully stepping around the bodies of her sleeping Clanmates, and heads off into the dark forest, her paws treading lightly over the undergrowth and deeper into the forest. She approaches the stream, bracken being pushed aside lightly as she came closer, the calm and soft sounds of running water causing the ball of anxiety in her stomach to shrink just a few sizes.
I have to stop thinking about it, she thinks, gulping a fresh breath of air and sitting down near the stream, knocking a few measly pebbles into the water as she settles into a comfortable position. Hawkfrost is faded now - he can't hurt me anymore. None of them can hurt me anymore.
Even though she used this same line each and every time she awoke from the nightmare, it never truly helped - she always had that tinge of guilt and fear. She was positive she always would.
"Are you alright?"
The question makes her leap up in surprise, quickly turning (although the pebbles make her paws bend slightly in uncomfortable manners) and facing the cat who asked.
Foxleap almost fell into a sitting position, blinking startled green eyes and shaking his head at her. "I'm not- It's alright, Ivypool! It's just me."
It took her a few calming breaths to realize her fur had been spiked up, making her almost twice her normal size. The bicolored tabby blinks, forcing the fur to lie flat and positioning herself into a less aggressive stance.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs, shaking her head and forcing herself to meet his concerned gaze. "I didn't know it was you."
"Obviously," he says at first, jokingly, then after a few seconds, a more serious and frightened look casts on his face. "I mean- unless you'd actually try to hurt me or something," She simply stares at him, flicking an ear and blinking twice. "You totally could beat me up, and I'm not trying to be some creepy tom who follows you around at night or anything-"
"You're fine," she tells him awkwardly. "I'm not going to jump you for no good reason."
A few moments of silence pass between them, before the reddish tabby shifts his paws, looking up at her with cautious eyes.
"You left the den in a hurry back there," he meows carefully, his voice surprisingly soft and caring. "Is anything wrong?"
She's not even sure if Foxleap understood how deep the question lies; is anything wrong? meaning: are you going back to the Dark Forest? Is anything wrong? meaning: are you okay? Was someone bothering you? Or is anything wrong? meaning: how are you coping with Hollyleaf's sacrifice?
Ivypool thinks about saying some lie; saying that nothing was wrong, everything was alright, he didn't have to worry. But, honestly, she's so tired of lying to the cats she cares about, to her Clanmates, to ThunderClan in general. She's so tired of it that it kind of surprises her when she says:
"I've been having nightmares - well, a nightmare. Ever since the battle; it's the same one, over and over and over again."
Because of the fact that it was Foxleap, and the tomcat was notorious for being a bit off a show-off, Ivypool expects some kind of one-up remark like: "Oh, yeah, me too, oh but I bet mine are way worse then yours."
But she's completely thrown of guard when he gives her a soft and tender look, blinking slowly and handing out a weak smile. "If it helps - I'm not totally sure it will, but. If it helps, I'll sleep next to you in the den," She blinks, shocked that he'd actually care that much about her silly nightmare. "And if you have the nightmare again, you can just wake me up and we'll go on a walk or something. Anything to take your mind off of it."
Ivypool stares, and then smiles softly, giving the fluffy tom's cheek a small and thankful lick. She watches as he bashfully looks at his paws, and she nods, smiling earnestly and trying her hardest not to sob at the fact that she finally has someone who cares enough.
"I'd appreciate that very, very much."
xxi. how brave you are
"Tell us a story, Swiftpaw."
The black-and-white tom looks down at the small bundle of white fur on his forelegs, smiling tenderly at the little kitten who he had become so very protective of, for reasons that he was almost unknown to.
Mosskit climbs up onto his back, looking over at Snowkit, and then planting herself in the space between his ears, pawing at his nose with a tiny paw, purring triumphantly and then sighing.
"Yeah, like Snowkit said. Tell us a story."
The former apprentice just sighs, shaking his head and frowning kindly. "You two know your mothers will want you back soon," he points out, causing Mosskit to sigh in distaste. Snowkit just frowned further, baby-blue eyes staring up at him pleadingly, begging him for yet another story - although Swiftpaw was quite sure that the little, formerly deaf kitten had heard almost every story he had to offer.
"I just want one more story, Swiftpaw. It doesn't even have to be long! Just one more, because you tell them so well."
Swiftpaw sighs, tutting in disapproval. "If Speckletail and Bluestar come looking for you two, I'd better not be the one who's getting chewed out over this," he tells them, looking up at the tips of Mosskit's little ears. "I may have died young, but I've had the displeasure of a queen freaking out over her kits."
"Well, hurry up and we don't have to worry!" Mosskit squeaks, sitting up and planting her paws just above his eyes. "We just want one more story."
"Fine," Swiftpaw says with a over exaggerated sigh, causing Snowkit to giggle in happiness. "One more story."
Both kits stopped talking then, clearly waiting for it to begin. Having their attention, Swiftpaw straightens himself, clearing his throat and beginning.
"Cats say that bravery means being able to fight off an entire patrol single-pawed, or being able to stand up for what you believe in. When you listen to that, it makes you think that being brave is all about being strong and fearsome - that there's no other way to achieve the title of a brave cat. You just have to be...strong," He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and smiling, opening them again.
"But I know that there's a whole other side to bravery - a side that no one really talks about because they don't really look for it, you know? Like looking into a murky stream and not seeing the rocks at the bottom because you're not trying hard enough. Well, I know a she-cat - she's still alive today, still kicking and healthy. And, to be honest, she's even braver than Firestar, in my opinion." The kittens scoot in closer, clearly interested even more.
"She lived when I died. She survived because she didn't want to face death just yet. She lived, and, even though she lives with a scar that will always be her reminder of what I dragged her into...," He smiles. "Brightheart is the bravest cat in this entire forest."
And she always will be, he thinks as he sends the kits off to their mothers.
xxii. so mothers, be good to your daughters too
That night, when they go to their dens to go to sleep, Millie can see the way her daughter adverts her gaze to the ground, the way she attempts to ignore her compliment and who shrugs off her comforts.
She knows what she's done; that she's broken bonds between them that she's confident will be hard to build back up.
But when Blossomfall allows her to bring her a mouse in the morning, allows her to go on a patrol with her, Millie thinks that maybe they could get better.
She's sorry, after all.
xxiii. we'll be okay
Squirrelflight watches as Bramblestar pads to the center of camp, giving small orders, and then turns, throwing her a soft smile from her position on the top of the Highledge.
She smiles back, feeling as if she's on top of everything now - she's lost so much (her father, her daughter, and that respect will be hard to replace), but it's going to be okay now.
She jumps down, nuzzling her cheek against his. They'll be okay now.
xxiv. i love you
Fallen Leaves begins his journey to StarClan, bounding forward and the chants of his old friends and family becoming farther and farther away.
He's going for Hollyleaf - he loves her so much, it's almost as if nothing really needs to be said about it other then the awaiting "I love you."
xxv. we'll all float on
Leafpool smiles, putting the wilted poppy flower on the mound of dirt.
She loves her daughter so much. Even if she may not be able to here these words now, she loves her. She may be gone - but that's okay. She's going to see her again, when she goes back to the Moonpool for the first time in moons at the next quarter moon. She can wait - waiting is tedious and horrible, but she's been doing it for so long.
Leafpool lets out a sigh she did not know she'd been holding, smiling up at the sky and relishing in the small breeze.
"It'll all be okay, Hollyleaf," she whispers, closing her eyes. "We're going to be okay."