Disclaimer: I don't own Warriors.
Please review, guys. Oh, and if there's any betas out there willing to help me with this story I'd love it if you could contact me.
Memory's vision was blurred and clouded and frequently greeted by fleeting white hot flashes of panic, coming and going and blinding her like a constant solar eclipse she'd stared straight at unknowingly. Her mother was dying, and she could do nothing to help her. She watched disbelievingly as Sparrow retched for the third time, coughing and spluttering as she gasped for breath. The older she-cat was vomiting blood along with her breakfast, and Memory wanted to look away, but she couldn't; she just couldn't. If Sparrow died, she would have no one left. No one but Harper and Fritz, but what could they do for her? They chose to live the soft life of a kittypet. Memory couldn't do that, not now that she knew a life of freedom.
"Memory…"
The ginger she-cat's ears perked as Sparrow croaked her name. The brown she-cat's voice was weak and rasping, and Memory cringed at the sound of it. How had this happened to Sparrow, when just a moon before she had been so healthy and strong?
The look Sparrow gave her next made Memory's blood run cold. It was a look of such desperation, such pleading and such helplessness that Memory wanted to break down and cry then and there. But she had to stay strong – for Sparrow. "What can I do?" she breathed, her blue eyes wide with terror.
"There is nothing you can do." Memory fought down the feeling of dread that welled up inside the pit of stomach. Of course there was something she could do! Wasn't it Sparrow herself who had always taught her that nothing was impossible? Memory's ears flattened against her skull as Sparrow drew in a shaky, rattling breath and coughed out more blood. "…Stay strong, Memory…"
"No!" Memory yowled, her fur standing on end. She couldn't let Sparrow give up! She was going to make it, she had to! "You can't leave me!"
All hope had left Sparrow's yellow-orange gaze. She shook her head, but a coughing fit overtook her and Memory watched in sheer horror as the she-cat's legs buckled and gave in beneath her, her eyes rolled into her head and she gave one last shuddering breath. "Love…you…" was all she'd managed to choke out. A bubble of blood rose from Sparrow's throat and popped, splattering grotesquely across her muzzle. Memory cried out hoarsely, bounding forward to her foster mother's side. But it was too late. Sparrow was gone; with one last convulsive twitch.
Memory let go.
She didn't hold back the tears or the wails of bereavement. She had no home, no family, nowhere to go, no purpose in life. Her teacher, her guardian, her mother was gone. Sparrow was all Memory had ever known, and all she'd thought she ever would know. Memory knew Sparrow wouldn't live forever, but never in her wildest of dreams had she imagined she'd go like this. Memory lay there for hours on end, sobbing uncontrollably into the dulled brown fur of the only family Memory could remember. When the sun finally began to set, Memory knew she could not stay there when it grew dark.
Hiccupping, Memory dug a shallow hole and hauled Sparrow's cold body over to the edge of it. She'd snagged her claws digging, but she couldn't feel a thing. The grief had numbed her; acted like a shield from all other emotion. She knew it would not last long, but she savored it while it did. Her expression twisted by sorrow, Memory pushed her nose into Sparrow's fur, her eyes red from crying.
"Goodbye, Sparrow. I hope you're out of pain, wherever you are." Her voice was muffled by the she-cat's long fur, but she knew she'd got her point across. Stifling another depressed sob, Memory gave Sparrow's body the slightest nudge, and the dead she-cat rolled limply into the ditch, her limbs splayed out like a ragdoll. Memory kicked dirt over Sparrow's body haphazardly, not bothering to look back at where it had landed. She smoothed it with her tail after, making sure it didn't look too out of place. The last thing Memory wanted was for a fox or badger to find Sparrow's body and scavenge upon it. As the sun sank slowly over the horizon and the sky grew dark, Memory gave one last look at Sparrow's crude grave and padded away from the only cat she'd ever known as family – her livelihood, her reason for survival. Sparrow had acted as a mother for Memory when she hadn't had one.
Realizing she was acknowledging all of this for the first time, Memory dug her unsheathed claws into the soil and tore up the sparse blades of grass and weak roots bitterly, mutilating fallen leaves and bloodying her paws as she snagged her claws worse and worse. You don't know what you've got until it's gone, Memory thought; a low hiss arising from the depths of her throat. She cast a backwards glance toward Sparrow's grave and muttered just three simple words – "Love you, too."
x x x x x x x x x x
It rained that night. Memory could find no better shelter than a weeping willow tree, which she found almost humorously fitting for her state. She comforted herself by pretending that the skies were crying at the loss of Sparrow, and tried to imagine the soothing warmth of Sparrow's body next to hers as she covered her face with her dirty paws and waited for sleep to come.
And eventually it did, crashing down upon her like a large, black wave, suffocating her and snuffing out her life as quickly as the mystery sickness had Sparrow's. Her sleep was desolately dreamless, a black void of nothing. The darkness was complete. Utterly impenetrable and silent, it pressed down on her until the weight was unbearable.
Memory gave in.
She awoke with a gasp, breathing heavily and trembling. Just a nightmare, she thought. Only a nightmare. She looked around expectantly, searching for the peacefully sleeping heap of brown fur – only to recall the previous day's events. Memory's face fell and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The pain was still fresh, not dull or distant like she'd thought it would be. How long would she be grieving? Sparrow's kindly, motherly face flashed before Memory's eyes and she let out a trembling breath. Without sorrow, we would not know joy,she thought, smiling slightly as she remembered all of her foster mother's wise sayings. Sparrow had comforted Memory with that one countless times when they went a night without eating, or when Memory was just a mere two moons old and Sparrow's only biological kit, Cherry, was killed by a fox. Sparrow had not grieved long then – she'd been strong, for Memory. But Memory had no one depending on her. Was that why it was so hard for her? Lack of motivation?
"Memory? That you?"
Memory spun around, fur bristling and eyes wide in alarm. The tension faded as Memory recognized the familiar tortoiseshell-and-white pelt of her kittypet friend, Harper. Memory nodded. "Yeah, but… Harper, I'm really not in the mood." She titled her head curiously. "Wait a minute, why aren't you back in your Twoleg garden?"
Harper's eyes flashed with concern. "You and Sparrow hadn't come by in a while. I was getting worried. What's wrong, Memory? And where's Sparrow?"
Memory's vision went red with a sudden anger. It had come out of nowhere, but anything was better than the desperate sadness she had been feeling before – Memory welcomed it. "She's dead," she spat, her tail lashing. "But you wouldn't understand that, would you? You couldn't know what it's like to be this helpless; the one cat you depended on gone forever. You live your cushy little kittypet life, never worrying about how in the world you're going to find a simple meal or a dry place to sleep." Harper's yellow eyes were wide with horror, and Memory laughed bitterly, her lips curling back in a jeering snarl.
"Memory," Harper gasped, her eyes brimming with tears. "What…" Her ears flattened against her head submissively. Her eyes were shining with hurt. "You can't mean that! We've been friends since… forever! You're just grieving, you're—"
"Don't you start!" Memory cried, the anger giving way to sorrow once more. Blackness tugged at the corner of her vision and she felt like her legs were ready to crumple beneath her. "You know nothing about grief, Harper, nothing! I hate you!"
Memory turned tail and ran – ran like she'd never run before, not caring if she snagged a claw or tore her ginger fur on a bush or jutting tree branch. She had to get away from Harper, away from Sparrow, away from everything. It was chasing her, hunting her down; and she felt like she couldn't get away from it, couldn't escape. Like a rabbit on the open moors, aware of the cat sprinting after it, but with no way to lose it. Is this what it felt like to be prey? Helplessly defenseless all the time, constantly looking over your shoulder and spooking at every noise? A bitter scent overwhelmed Memory and she collapsed, her sides heaving with the useless effort to hold back her sobs. There was a distant yowl, and then there was nothing.