A/N: Happy Holidays, Misty! Hope you enjoy this. :)
"being happy (when everyone around you is down)"
Pinky didn't think that anything could fix this.
One moment, she'd been out on a rescue patrol. Her, and the other Claws refugees, leading the line into enemy territory.
It was supposed to be heroic. It was supposed to get her into the clan, supposed to keep her safe.
Instead, she'd wound up in a foul-smelling den, a den that she'd helped build herself.
How mortifying.
Her fellow captives seemed rather unhinged. The cats she'd been snatched with were only just adjusting, getting used to their surroundings. The reddish-brown tom - she really needed to ask his name - seemed dazed, sprawled on the ground. The other tom - Pebble-something? Pebblefoot? Pebbleskip? - looked like he was about to be sick, staring at something just out of sight.
Pinky followed his gaze, and almost gagged herself. Sila…
Stars, how was she going to tell Orion about this? About where his mother had wound up? Not safe in a grave, covered with flowers, but… strung up in a prison. The product of some sadistic tom's afternoon.
She tore her gaze away, taking in the rest of the den. She was troubled when she didn't see the two kits that had been taken - where were they? She prayed they hadn't been turned over to Avaros, that they were just being kept somewhere else.
The rest of the prisoners were quietly talking - something about Silverstar. She barely registered it. Silverstar was the reason that she was here. She'd… honestly, Pinky didn't think she'd ever been around a good leader figure. The Saviour was terrifying, and volatile, and Pinky'd never voice it, but Silverstar was ineffective. Indecisive.
She glanced up. Falcon was standing in the entrance to the den, blocking out the already weak light that filtered in, a rabbit in his jaws. He dropped it just inside the den, averting his gaze. Pinky guessed that he didn't want to look at what had become of Sila.
The grey tom - Stars, she really needed to remember names - stood up, wobbling slightly,
and hissed angrily at Falcon.
"What's your name?" Falcon asked him almost calmly, but with a forceful edge to his mew.
The grey tom seemed to wilt. "Pebblestep." He whispered, and Pinky was almost thankful to Falcon. Finally, she knew a name!
She dismissed the rest of their conversation, grooming herself nervously, starting when she realised that she'd been biting at her neck-fur. It had always been a bad habit of hers, one that she found hard to shake.
She only looked up when she heard Pebblestep snapping at Falcon again, something about the ginger tom being a bad father, and refusing to answer his questions about Orion.
Pinky winced. Talking like… like that to Falcon would never work. He was prickly, and willing to lash out if he was spoken to in a disrespectful manner. And that was when Sila, and Orion were still around. Without that calming force in his life, Falcon was…
Well, Pinky wasn't surprised when he struck Pebblestep across the face.
Falcon left soon after that, stalking out of the den, leaving the rabbit behind.
She left Pebblestep and the smaller grey she-cat to it, letting them talk among themselves, ignoring the blood streaming down Pebblestep's face. It seemed like such violence was becoming commonplace.
She didn't think that it had been like this when she first came here. When she was swept in, taken up by flowing words of purity, of salvation, of a better life after she died. She was young, adventurous. Her days seemed limitless, filled with nothing but drawing in the dust, helping to guide Orion when his mother couldn't.
How foolish she'd been. There was no purity, no salvation. No thing beyond the stars, other than the whispers she'd heard of Starclan. The Saviour was no hero. No God, sent to this earth to save them all. He was a lying fake, and only those who had left could see it.
She just wanted to get back to Burn, and the relative safety of Fallenclan. But how safe was Fallenclan, really, when she'd been snatched from within its own borders? When they had loners, stalking their lands with powers, and no patrol willing to chase them out?
The she-cat huddled in the corner gave a weak cough, and Pinky cautiously approached her. Wondering if she could help, wondering if she could do anything beyond sitting there, feeling powerless.
"Are you alright?" She asked quietly. She should probably know this cat's name, she thought, but she'd barely seen her around camp in her time there.
The queen - she was pregnant, Pinky knew that - looked at her through haunted amber eyes. "I'm… I don't feel so well." She whispered. Pinky winced with sympathy - she felt like she'd already dashed out to be sick. And she seemed to cough, a lot, wracking coughs, the kind that made your throat burn.
"Do you need to be distracted?" She blurted. "Sorry, uh- I don't know your name-"
"Feathersong. It's Feathersong."
"Right. Feathersong. I'm… I can draw you something." Pinky narrowed her eyes at the dusty earth, and brushed some of the moss out of the way. The moss looked rather sparse, she realised. No wonder this poor she-cat was coughing, she must be freezing.
"What will you draw?" Feathersong asked. To Pinky's relief, she seemed to be more alert, sitting up in her nest - if you could even call it that, stupid Claws and not giving adquete moss rations - eyes slightly brighter.
Pinky shrugged. She hadn't thought that far ahead. "You got anyone you miss? Back at… uh, Fallenclan?" She inquired.
Feathersong seemed to have an almost dreamy glaze in her eyes. "My… my mate." She admitted softly. She looked like a love-struck youngling, Pinky thought.
Or apprentice. That was probably what she should be referring to that age as now. Not using the terminology of the Saviour, of the Claws no longer.
"Your mate…" She nodded. "Remind me what he looks like?" She got her paws ready, flexing her claws, ready to draw.
"He's got… amber eyes." Feathersong mewed. "Like mine, but darker. Sorta more like Pebblestep's, now that I think about it - they're brothers - and… and his fur is grey." She sighed. "My favourite colour."
I can't exactly draw grey. Pinky thought, before attempting to look more cheerful. Feathersong was just tired. "Right! And… what sorta fur does he have? Like, is he fluffy?"
Feathersong let out a long sigh, looking somewhere into the distance. "Soft." She breathed. "It's soft."
"Cool, cool…" Pinky started drawing, sketching the figure of a cat out onto the ground. She thought that it was looking pretty good, if she did say so herself. "So… your mate… uh…" She couldn't remember his name. She felt like she should know it, and decided to make a guess at it. "Bird… Birdsmear?" She guessed weakly.
Feathersong frowned at her. "Hawkstreak."
She corrected Pinky gently, and Pinky nodded. "That was it. Yeah, Hawkstreak, what's he like?"
Feathersong wrinkled her nose, before smiling. "He's… he's perfect."
Pinky smiled. Feathersong seemed to be cheering up, she thought, which was all she wanted. All she wanted to happen was to make it so this den seemed less gloomy, less…
Less like a grave. Less like they were all going to die in here.
"I'm sure he is." She replied, putting the final touches on her drawing. She smiled down at her handiwork, almost triumphantly. "There! What do you think?" She asked.
Feathersong blinked down at the drawing, and blinked at Pinky, and seemed to almost light up. "Thank… thank you." She murmured.
If the time in this prison would give Pinky anything, it'd be time to develop her artistic skills. Give her something to do. And… when she got out (we're getting out, she thought fiercely, we have to get out.), she'd be able to draw something good for Orion. Maybe even draw something for Burn, if he hadn't left the camp by then. See her friends again, the other refugees. Become whole again, feel alive again.
She stepped away from Feathersong, and settled back in her scrap of a nest. They'd get through this. She just had to believe, and hope.
Character credits;
Pinky, Burn - MistFlame54
Feathersong - Phoenixlight of Fallenclan
Orion, Sila, Falcon - Ember grieves for Aspen
Tallfrost - Mossy Clouds
Pebblestep - Succulentsofa
Streampaw - Mintflight0245