The Weeping Willow

A creamy white tom with dark gray covered paws plodded towards a small den, known as the nursery. The compact structure was crafted out of twigs and strong, thick vibrant vines were weaved through the large openings to make the area safe and secure. Small, tough leaves were placed in the smaller crevices along with mud to keep them in place and fill the spots diligently. Every little opening was covered precisely, keeping it safe from predators and whatever weather the sky may bring. Though, because the den was so concealed, barely any light could get through, making it appear gloomy.

Nearing the nursery, the white tom paused while he heard helpless mewls from young kits and smelled a milky scent that was still alien to him. The tom's bright blue eyes seemed distant and filled with heavy emotion, leaving them looking extremely dull.

His mate, Emberspark, had recently been killed protecting her kits when a group of rouges had attacked his Clan. Although one of his kits was killed along with her, two of them had managed to survive.

I should have been there, he sadly thought to himself, the guilt taunting his mind. He knew she would not have wanted him to blame himself, but every scenario lead up to that one thought. If I was there for her, none of this would have happened. They would still be alive, desperately thinking in his mind; as if his regret would bring them back to him.

Smiling, a bright ginger tabby lay in the nursery; she pleaded for the tom to come in with kind words. Shyly, he stepped in to meet his kits with an awkward but meaningful emerald eyes revealed affection, assuring him that it was all right, "Don't be afraid."

Snapping out of his brief memory, he finally entered the nursery. His silver tipped tail was the only thing remaining, until, it too, was consumed by the gaping hole.

"Hello, Willowheart," a speckled she-cat mewed, a hint of sympathy in her hushed voice.

"Good Morning," he replied, his voice sounding cracked and tired. The light brown queen, Duststorm, had been a good friend to him; she watched over and fed his kits, after Emberspark had passed, treating his kits like a caring mother would. She had tried her best to comfort him during this depressing time, but it didn't seem to help without her there. Emberspark would have known just what to say in a moment like this.

"Gingerkit and Stonekit are growing very fast," she said, trying intently to get him interested again.

Again, he tore from his thoughts, looking over at a solid gray tom with a bit of white on the tip of his tail. He then rested his eyes on a light ginger tabby with white paws, his daughter. Just like her mother, Willowheart reminded himself. The kit's soft fur showed some living evidence that Emberspark had ever existed.

There were two other kits beside them, one dark brown and one light, belonging to Duststorm.

He decided to take another glance at his kits, he didn't have anything held up against them; he just wasn't sure he could be a good father, couldn't give them what they needed.

They needed to learn how to be caring towards others, as well as fierce to protect their Clan. How was he to teach him the balance? He needed to teach them from right and wrong, to give them love, support, guidance.. He needed Emberspark to help him raise their kits, he heard his heart crying out for her. But nothing he could possibly do would help to bring her back.

He pushed himself up with a loud grunt, feeling as if he had swallowed a heavy rock and it was almost impossible to move.

"Where are you going?" Duststorm questioned.

"I'm just going to.. think," he mewed, as if he had no breath left in him and it was difficult even to get a whisper out.

She shot him a concerned look and after a few moments mewed, "Alright, but promise to return and visit your kits, they need you."

Willowheart nodded as almost without effort, but with a truthful sound he replied, "I promise."

...

He slowly padded towards a big willow tree, its feathery looking silver leaves hanging down all the way to the moonlit ground. It glowed magnificently under the waning moon. It was so wide that running around it a couple times would tire you out, at least, that's how he remembered it as an apprentice. He hadn't come here since Emberspark's death, he missed it. This was where they had always come together. Lying under the full moon with their tails intertwined, as they stared up at the stars.

He secretly hoped that, possibly, she was still here. Just waiting for him to come and join her in Silverpelt.

This place held many happy moments, he was even named for it.

His parents, Jaysong and Cloudfeather, had also come here after they had found it together, deep in the forest; although, he was sure some other cats before them had discovered the beautiful spot.

The place symbolized something, and since his fur color reminded them of the Willow and the illusion the moon gave its leaves; he was named after that great tree. His parents had taken him here in their free time, telling him stories as to why it looked so sad, why it drooped like it did. Now he felt as if he was the tired, depressed looking Willow. He felt the same way after his mother died. Except this time, it was much more painful, especially with his guilt gnawing at him.

Though his father never stopped taking him to The Weeping Willow, as they had named it. After Jaysong had passed from greencough, he felt everything was lost. But it didn't stop him from training harder than ever and being made a warrior.

After all that, he had found Emberspark. He introduced her to the tree which brought up so much nostalgia and told her of the stories that his parents had passed on. He could still remember the bright splotches of white on her fur shining and her smile seeming to dance across her face. She had made him the stronger, braver cat he was today .

After all these thoughts flashed through his mind, he finally let out a loud sigh. Like all his sharp pain and feelings had suddenly dimmed, and there was no use to live anymore, even though he knew it wasn't true. The burden was too much.

He bowed his head in sorrow. Why is this happening to me?He thought for his last effort at it all.

It's all right, he could hear her voice inside his mind. He swiveled his ears and looked in all directions frantically, the noise sounded as if it was surrounding him. I'll be with you, always.

He heard her voice again, thoughts rushing through his mind, Emberspark?

Don't worry, it will all come together in the end. You will never be alone, I am here.

All the things he wanted to say to her. He needed her guidance, he couldn't do this alone.

"Oh, Emberspark," he mewed in a low, soft voice. She would never leave the special place she held in his heart.

There was nothing you could have done.

Grief struck him, everything was catching up to him again. After it felt like this place had made time stand still, even for just a split second.

Though, the forgiveness hidden in her voice had seemed to make him whole again. Willowheart knew that she would never hold something so small against him, but just hearing her say that, instead of anyone else, was what he needed.

While he did not question what she was saying, a sudden content sensation rushed through him.

He found himself enjoying the feeling, not speaking a word. It seemed her voice soothed him, washed away all the pain and distress he had been experiencing. He sensed she already knew everything he wanted her to, his concerns, his feelings.. Hearing her voice created a beautiful balance, leaving all his confusion to fade away.

Take care of them, he heard her mew in a smooth, easy going voice, like a small stream flowing down it's path. Yet it had the sound of longing, she wanted to be there with them, being with her kits as they grew up and earned their warrior names. He knew it. They had a close connection no one could break.

After all the reassurance was given to him, he finally mewed, "I promise."

His eyes twinkled with the happiness that had left him moons ago. Feeling as if he was alive again, he looked up to the starry night sky. She's up there, watching me. Breathing in her scent that still lingered there, he closed his eyes and knew she was going to be with him, forever.


Oftentimes we say goodbye to the person we love without wanting to.

Though that doesn't mean that we've stopped loving them or we've stopped to care.

Sometimes goodbye is a painful way to say I love you.

Kezia


A/N: This is a simple one-shot which I hope speaks loudly enough for itself. The Weeping Willow, however, is somewhat sentimental to me in that it was my very first fan-fiction ever written and my first attempt to express myself by creatively writing.