My first oneshot for the 12 Days of Christmas Challenge on TacoClan. Dedicated to Prin Pardus. Merry Christmas, and I hope that you enjoy it!
Saudade:
(Portuguese, n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and lost; "the love that remains"
He had left the world just as he had entered it: quietly, with no fanfare or frills, just the softest whispers of first and last breaths signifying the change. Lightningstripe had always been a quiet tom, and death didn't change a thing.
The tom didn't often speak about his past, not out of shame or grief, but because there was hardly anything to speak about. He had been one of a seven-kit litter, neither oldest nor youngest, neither smallest nor largest, lacking a striking white pelt like Petal's or eyes that were as brilliant as Mari's. He had simply been a shy, obedient child, hardly anything out of the ordinary.
"It was hardly anything special," he had told Morninglight when she had asked after his past one morning as they curled up close in the autumn chill, the first and only time she had ever broached the topic. "Nothing interesting, love. But what about you?" A smile had lit up those radiant features, and as she began describing her childhood home down to the tiniest of details, he had listened.
He had always been good at listening.
Lightningstripe was well aware of the way that some of the Clan raised eyebrows and lowered voices when he strolled past, knew plenty about Morninglight's past transgressions. They wondered how he, a tom barely noticed, a cat known only for his utter banality, had caught her attention, let alone held it. Most agreed that it was a good thing that the golden she-cat had found a mate, however odd the match was, and that she was quite lucky to have him.
What they hadn't understood, and probably never would, was that he was the lucky one. Whatever she'd done in the past had never mattered to him. She was perfect, better than anything he could have ever imagined, and he didn't deserve him by any means. She deserved so much more, and he had spent his entire life trying to make that up to her.
For all of Morninglight's love of dramatics, theirs had never been an ostentatious love, full of ferocious passions and destructive affections. No, they had found a quiet, comfortable love in each other, just a simple click of two pieces perfectly suited to each other finally being put together. If some love was fiery, tempestuous, then theirs was dawn's gentle light gleaming on the horizon, a simple realization of, oh, that's what has been missing for all this time.
He had left the world just as he had entered it: meek and humble, hardly a creature of great pride or esteem. Lightningstripe had always tried his best to be kind and respectful to others; the golden tom had never had a desire to be great, except perhaps in Morninglight's eyes, but to just do the best he could.
It had confused him, at first, when Flaresky returned to camp. "You know," the ginger tom had said, "if you come with me, you'll look like your old self again." He glanced at Lightningstripe, and the dead cat understood. He still looked as he had when he had died, thin as the reeds that flanked the riverbanks, with tired amber eyes set deep in the hollows of his bony face.
"You know I can't do that, Flaresky."
"Still sticking by your decision?"
"There was never a choice in it."
Flaresky had sighed, expression resigned. "I figured that you would say that. Anyway, I didn't come here on my account." The bright-pelted warrior stepped to the side. "Lightningstripe, I don't believe that you've met Duskcloud."
The name had sounded familiar, but it only registered when the she-cat materialized before them, and it had taken the golden tom a moment to catch his breath when he first caught a glimpse of her. Duskcloud. Smokefrost's mate. The she-cat was beautiful as all StarClan cats were, all of them brought back the the height of their lives with stars in their pelts and light in their eyes, but she had something special about her. There was a soft warmth in her expression, a gentle kindness to her face that had concern inscribed into every line. She looks like she was born to be someone's mother, he had thought, dipping his head in respect. "It's an honor to meet you," he had murmured.
She had smiled at that and, to his surprise, had dipped her head in return. "The honor is all mine, Lightningstripe. I've heard a lot about you."
"You have?" he had asked, raising his eyebrows. Why?
"Of course," she had replied, emerald-green eyes glimmering with twinkling stars. "All of us have. StarClan's never really seen anything like you before, Lightningstripe. You're the tom that chose to wait."
And so they began to come, some in groups or pairs while others visited alone. There were those fairly new to the ranks of the stars, cats that he could call by name when they arrived. Just as often, there were those who had long since faded from living memory, except perhaps in the occasional bedtime story, spirits that had faded to little more than faintly-shimmering shadows and voices like the wind's soft murmuring. They wanted to speak with him, to congratulate him, as if he'd done something extraordinary.
Lightningstripe had been leery of it, at first. He hadn't done anything, just what he'd had to. It had only make sense when a new cat approached him. She was old, her dark pelt grayed, and her face one that had aged gracefully. Her amber eyes had glimmered as she'd walked right up to him and licked his cheek. "It's nice to finally meet you, Lightningstripe," she mewed. His voice was soft but strong, never wavering. "We've all heard so much about you, and I'd like to thank you for what you're doing. We're all proud."
"But why me?" he had whispered, surprised by her sudden touch. He didn't know this she-cat, not even her name. "What did I do? Why is everyone coming here? I don't...I just don't understand."
She purred quietly, amber eyes glittering. "Because they're all jealous of you, boy," she replied softly. "You did something everyone else was afraid to do, or never thought of doing. You're the first to ever wait, the first that any of us can ever remember." The old she-cat sighed, glancing across the snowy camp. "I had children when I died, two daughters and three sons. I only birthed one of them, but I loved them all enough to make them mine. I thought about staying, to make sure they were alright, stayed out of trouble, but I was scared. Now, only two of them are left down here, and they've got children and grandchildren of their own. And, I suppose, I'm still scared. That's why I'm proud of you."
"But I wasn't trying to be brave," he replied incredulously, even as he had begun to understand. "I was just doing what was right by her. I didn't know that it was brave."
She had smiled. "I know. That's why I thanked you."
Still, there were others who questioned him relentlessly. The tom that appeared early one leafbare morning was young and angry, resentment burning off his pelt like a fever. "How can you just wait for her here all that time? You don't know when she'll die. It could be seasons before she does. What are you going to do until then? What are you going to do if she moves on, or forgets about you?" Something had flashed in his amber eyes, anger and hurt and, yes, there was the jealousy the old queen had talked about.
Lightninstripe had been watching Morninglight pad out of the medicine cat den when the young StarClanner had spoken. "Congratulations," one of the passing cats murmured to her, and the golden she-cat nodded, glancing down at her still-flat belly.
"What are you going to do?"
The golden tom hadn't meant to snap at him, and he had regretted it later. "Do you see that sun?" he had asked, quiet tone almost a growl as he flicked his tail up towards the sky. "It's everything. Without it, these cats would be frozen. They can't control what it does, or where it moves. All they can do is just wait and keep warm. That sun's going to set soon, I know, but it'll rise sooner or later." He had taken a deep breath, continuing in a quieter tone. "Yes, it's going to be dark for a while, and cold, but I know my sun's going to come back up sooner or later. And until then, I'll wait as long as it takes for that sunrise."
He has never been in the nursery for long; the golden tom had been born outside of the Clan, and he had never had friends nor sisters to visit there, only stopping by occasionally to drop off pieces of prey when one of the queens was unable to come get it themselves, or it was too cold. This is new territory for him altogether, so he steps lightly.
There's a special warmth to it, he thinks, despite the frigid weather outside. Perhaps it's the lack of holes in the den walls, every inch of it patched up, or all of the sleeping bodies curled up together, radiating heat as they huddle together in nests of mountain heather and the softest grass the apprentices can find. He believes that it's the love. It sounds silly, Lightningstripe knows, but so much of that pure, unadulterated love that comes between parent and child has to account for something.
It is late at night, far too late for anyone to be awake except for the few cats holding vigil and the new medicine cat, who keeps unusual hours. The kits and their mother are fast asleep, the gentle moonlight that streams in through the den entrance turning their gilded pelts to silver. He touches his muzzle to the top of Morninglight's head, licking her cheek before moving and nuzzling each of the kits. He knows that they can't feel it.
The small tom had become a father today, and he can't even touch his children.
They're all perfect, just as beautiful as their mother, with the same bright pelts and white paws that she has. He can even see a little of himself in them, the little she-kit's longer fur and one of the tom's small size.
"Hello, little ones," he whispers. It's not as if any of them can hear him, but it seems right to whisper in this place of warmth and rest, already a home in the way that the other freshly-dug dens just quite aren't. "I'm Lightningstripe. I'm your Papa." He hasn't spoken that name since he was nearly twelve moons old, the last time he had seen his own Papa, but it feels right on his tongue.
"StarClan above, you're all so pretty. Bright as stars, just like I knew you would be. You all take more after your mother than me. Trust me, that's a good thing." He allows himself a small, lopsided smile, and he settles down beside them.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be here to see you in this morning. I'm sorry that I won't get to meet you, or teach you how to hunt and play, or scold you when you run off and give your mother fits. I'm sorry for a lot of things, but don't you think for a second that I don't love you, okay? Not even for a second. I've loved all three of you since long before you were born, and I always will. I'll be watching over you every minute, promise."
He nods to the queen curled around them, snoring quietly like she had always denied she did and he had found precious. "That's your Mama, you know. Morninglight. She's a very special lady, you know, and that's why I need you to do me a favor." Lightningstripe's eyes were solemn and sad as he peered down at the kits, serious to the core. "She's wonderful. She's sweet, and funny, and kind. She's the most beautiful she-cat in the whole wide world, Lightkit, just like you. But...she needs someone to look after her, and I need you to do that for me." He can't do it anymore, can't protect her like someone on her side of StarClan can. He'll never leave her—not until the sun stops rising and the stars fall down—but he can't do it alone.
"She's wonderful, your Mama is, but she needs somebody to take care of her. I c-can't do it, not anymore, so I'm leaving it up to you three." His eyes lit up with a smile, although his expression remained soft and sad. "Make her smile and keep her warm. Tell her I love you every chance you get, and that she's prettier than the stars in the sky. Keep her safe, and..." He trails off, quiet for a moment before speaking in a voice even softer than before. "And if she finds another tom that makes her smile, that's just fine. Just make sure she's happy, and that he treats her right. She's worth it."
He nuzzles them all again, a quiet purr emanating from his throat as he licks them and Morninglight one last time, one by one. "I'll be here if you need me," Lightningstripe murmurs, and he pads out, not a single cat stirring in his wake.
This new camp is still unfamiliar to him, but he finds a place all the same, sitting down at the entrance with his back to the rest of the dens, as if he's keeping a vigil over his Clan. Idly, he glanced up at the stars. It won't be a long time until Morninglight meets him here, he hopes, hopes harder than anything. And when she finally does, what can he swear to? Perhaps they'll wait for their children, or their grandchildren after that. That is far and farther still from now, and he settles down, making himself comfortable.
He's just waiting on the sun, and until it rises, his heaven is right here.
