viridescent
AN: So this ficlet was entirely spontaneous. I didn't plan it out beforehand, so it is slightly (very) disorganized with some interspersed time skips, and I'm not even sure if there's even a point to this story. But I do love Cinderpelt and Firestar together, so here is a short fanfiction of them! (TW: loss of kits)
Disclaimer: I don't own Warrior Cats. Erin Hunter does.
She sees him in Leafpaw's graceful steps, in Squirrelpaw's flame-colored pelt, and those eyes, those verdant green eyes that light up with the glow of all of the stars.
It is like suffocating, to be with him, so excruciatingly close to him. She longs to reach out and touch him, to lean against him, relishing his warmth, an echo of what they were. But she does not. She cannot. He has a new life now, a mate, and kits. He does not have time to worry about her.
Brightheart asks her about it, one time. Her sister is kind and understanding and patient, with blue eyes that pierce into her soul, accessing her deepest secrets. "You loved him, didn't you?" she asks one gray day when she is helping Cinderpelt bundle up the tansy.
She looks up at her, the wounds in her heart reopening. Loved. The usage of past tense in that one simple word grates at her heart. But she forces herself to stay calm, for she must not break, she must not shatter, she must stay strong and whole—
"Once," she mews, trying to steady her voice. "But because of… everything… it didn't work out."
Brightheart looks at her sympathetically, her eyes kind and warm. (She has always been this way, so gentle and soft-spoken, so different from Cinderpelt's fire.) "But you'll be okay, won't you?"
"Yes," Cinderpelt lies. The wounds in her heart have long scabbed over, leaving her with scars scratched all over her heart, like a cruel reminder. Brightheart touches her tail to her shoulder, but Cinderpelt is too numb to feel it.
If things had been different, maybe it would've been her he told he loved, and not Sandstorm. Just maybe, they would've curled up together to sleep every night in the leader den, purring softly. Just maybe, he would've licked her ears and whispered words of comfort as she gave birth to a litter of healthy kits, two gray and one ginger. Just maybe —
Emerald eyes haunt her dreams, and always, always, she feels like she is drowning in an ocean of regrets. She thinks about what could have been — if she hadn't been crippled, if they had decided to try again, if her precious babies had lived —
(It had been one night. Just one time. They had both been stressed and tired, what with the betrayal of Tigerclaw, and Bluestar's problems. It had been spontaneous, and full of emotions and passion and everything buried deep down inside them that threatened to consume them.
She remembers the way he wrapped himself around her, pulling her close to him, never letting go. She remembers the blinding heat she felt as they moved against each other haphazardly, and then the pure ecstasy that had spiraled throughout her entire body. She remembers the three words he had whispered into her ears, words she would never hear again, that he would grant another she-cat for the rest of his life, that she was forbidden to echo. She remembers —)
Cinderpelt is tired, so tired of remembering. But she does anyway. Her memories are her prison, where she will stay in solitude, forever.
Two moons after that day, on a cold rainy night, three mistakes are born, so far away from the warmth and security of their rightful home. They do not live long. StarClan comes for them as quickly as they are born, sweeping them away from their mother, who knows that this is her punishment for her sins.
(Cinderpelt licks the unmoving bodies of her kittens slowly. They had been too weak, too delicate to live. She wonders then if it should've been her, if it would've been better that way.
The stars do not answer.)
Before she leaves, leaves behind the last night she will ever be the mother of these already gone kits, she names her stolen children. The two she-kits — the pale silver and the dark gray tabby — she names Silverkit and Rainkit for their shared pelt color that connect them to her in a way no cat will ever know. And the tom —
The tom is bright ginger, his fluffy kit-down pelt that will never thicken reminds her of flames and fire and destruction. She is certain that his eyes that will never open are the same shade of vibrant emerald green as those of the father that he will never know. And so she names him Flamekit, as a reminder — a warning.
She buries them under an oak tree, as the harsh rain continues to beat onto the three tiny graves. It is here that they are forgotten, here where their mother whispers to them a final, choked goodbye, as she shatters into pieces. I love you, I love you, I love you —
(Moons later, while visiting the Moonstone for the first time, Leafpaw will see three kittens playing amongst the stars. She will see two with suspiciously familiar bright blue eyes and fluffy gray pelts, and one who is reminiscent of fire and emeralds. She will not know who these three kits are, nor who they remind her of. When she asks Cinderpelt, her mentor brushes it off.
She never mentions it again.)
Cinderpelt feels a sense of overwhelming relief when Squirrelkit and Leafkit are born, when they are born healthy and strong and they curl contentedly at their mother's belly. "You have a litter of healthy kits," she tells their father when he enters the nursery, his green eyes wild with worry and wonder. "Two she-kits." No. Four she-kits and a tom. But she never does say the words, as her heartbreak has been buried along with the cold bodies of her kittens.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Firestar is curled up next to Sandstorm, their bodies keeping the newborn kits warm.
Yes. Cinderpelt thinks. And she feels a sense of profuse joy. Because Firestar's kits are safe, and to her, this is all that matters. She looks at the small brown and ginger bodies of Leafkit and Squirrelkit, so tiny and young and innocent. She pictures five kittens, two ginger, two gray, and one brown, running around together, play-fighting and purring with all of the innocence that comes with kithood. I'm so sorry, she tells her kits. This could've been you.
Rainkit, Silverkit, and Flamekit. And now, Leafkit and Squirrelkit.
There are stories — legends — about her long after she is gone. They say she was strong and brave and kind — one of the best medicine cats ThunderClan has ever seen. They tell the tale about her perseverance after her injury, about how she overcame all the challenges to become truly great. They say, they say, they say —
They fail to mention one part about her, however, in all their legends and myths of golden glory. They fail to mention the bright green eyes that pierced into her, that healed and broke her in one fell swoop. They fail to mention the three tiny bodies she buried in the wilderness. They fail to mention —
(The stars know, though. They always know.)
"I love you," she tells the ginger tom the day before she knows she is going to die. They are in his new den, near the lake so far away both in time and place from where she made the three tiny graves. The night is peaceful, with the stars twinkling like diamonds in the coal-black sky, and she knows that she must take her chance now, get all of her words in when she can.
She knows he will not interpret her words that way. It has been too long. Any feelings that he may have had for her are now buried under layers and layers of memories. But she does need him to know, before she is gone forever, which is why she says it.
He purrs, laying his tail on her shoulder. "I know," he says, "I — and the Clan — couldn't have made it all this way without you. I love you, too, Cinderpelt."
But not in that way. Cinderpelt swallows the words and instead stands up. "Goodbye, Firestar." she says, bidding the cat she has loved for moons and moons and moons farewell for the very last time. Her heart beats wildly as she exits the den, and she longs to curl up at his side, but she leaves. As she settles herself down in her nest in the medicine den, her resolve hardens. She's going to do what she has to do, and she can only hope that Leafpool will return before all is lost.
(Later, in another place, another life, Cinderheart will see him in her dreams of a life she never lived. She will feel her happiness as the ginger tom presses himself close to her, whispering sweet lies into her ears, her anguish as three tiny lives that will never feel the warmth of the sun are ripped from her so suddenly, and all of this will give her confidence to love the golden tom, to take a second chance as her three kittens curl around her, so strong and healthy and beautiful.
And she knows they will be able to breathe long after their first moments, to love and laugh and play in the sun, just like the other three kits in the visions she had long ago. They will never have to watch their mother from StarClan, as she grieves them silently. They will never have to be a lie, a secret, hidden from the eyes of all the Clans. She will never again have to know the pain of burying everything deep under — her love, her kits, her heart.
As Cinderpelt's spirit fades from her body, she knows she is at peace.)
(She thinks of him as she lies on the ground, teeth and claws rip into every part of her, as she lies in a scarlet pool of her own blood. She is only vaguely aware of Leafpool begging her not to leave, to stay, as all she can see is vivid green eyes and flame-licked fur. It's ironic, she thinks, after all that Firestar has done, he still stays to haunt her until her last breath.
She closes her eyes, unafraid, as her last moments are consumed by visions of emerald green eyes.)
Well, that concludes the fanfiction! As I said, it's not very organized, because I wrote it without planning. If you have any feedback, please review! Also, if you have any ideas/requests for a story I should write for this ship, let me know!
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