Recap: Miss is some vengeance-thirsty renegade leader of a scrappy lil rebellion. She bought half her soldiers but, shhh, we don't talk about that. They're all there out of their lust for revenge, okay?
Oh, you're back inside my dreams
Broken bones and empty screams
Sleepless nights in burning sheets
Lightning strikes inside my eyes
-Jaymes Young, Come Back for Me
She's breathless when they reach the top. It was slightly naive, she thinks, to locate her base of operations up one flight of stairs, when a platform on ground-level would surely suffice. At first, the gallery above provided a boost to her ego, inflated her sense of superiority. They all had a cause, of course, but hers was more than all of theirs. Hers was greater. She hadn't cared about trekking up step after step, so long as she felt better than all the rest of them. Now, it hardly seems sensible.
Emory turns his head to grin at her, ascending the final step without so much as a misplaced breath. Miss, herself, feels like wheezing.
"How much longer before Oakpaw is ready to be sent back to the Clan? How much longer do we delay?" he asks, pausing to nod at the guard on the gallery. He does that often- acknowledge them, that is. Miss was made for this, turned into something for this. Emory, however, was born for this. She wonders which one of them is better suited to lead, but it hardly matters. She's the one who leads, the one who will take them where they need to go.
"A matter of days, I'm sure. Azazel has been very taken by his progress." She smiles at the thought of the fiery little cat. She had thought Cariad would be the one to come back, but she doesn't mind being wrong on this account. Cariad could not seduce the apprentice to their cause the way Azazel has done, although that would be quite the amusing sight.
"We have sorely missed a spy in the thick of things," Emory muses, glancing down at their soldiers below. At their ammunition. "I'm not sure, however, that we can count on him in a fight. In the fight. What's to stop him turning on us at the very end?"
"Azazel," she replies, smiling at Emory in a sweet, demure kind of way. It's a smile that makes her feel just as she was, as though the raid and her scars never happened. Emory has that power over her, as she's well discovered. "Did you see the way he looked at her? He would never betray her in such a way."
Emory steps closer. "I'm well familiar with that look," he purrs, slitting his eyes. She laughs, softly. It is often easy to forget that they are on the brink of war.
In front of them, someone clears their throat. Miss springs away from Emory, who looks abashed and amused at once. Immediately, she sees it's only Ru. The smile returns to her face.
"Rhydderch," she says, the nuances of his name rolling easily off her tongue. It had been difficult, once. "Our young PureClan protegee is coming along well. You've yet to met him?"
"One Clanner is much alike to the next," Ru says, eyeing their closeness. Perhaps she should make clear that his is not a celibate role. He has seemed tense and apprehensive since he moved in here. In short, nothing like himself. "May I have a word, Miss?" He seems to dislike calling her that. Perhaps he wishes she had a real name.
"Of course, my friend." She gives Emory a look, one clearly indicating that he should make himself busy. He nods and slips away- he has an aptitude for leading, but he follows just as well. "How many I help you, Ru?"
"Is it wise?" he asks, looking after Emory. "To be so...close with him."
"Why would it not be?" she replies, giving Ru a hard look. She may want him with her, but she does not need him. Surely he senses that? Her companion laughs, bitterly.
"You should not encourage this. Keep it platonic, or there will be consequences. You can't fight two fronts on a battlefield, Miss. You can't protect him and have your vengeance at the same time."
He pauses, and stares at her critically. "It's beyond platonic, isn't it? I can't tell you how inadvisable it is to get involved at such a time."
Miss snorts. "You may have leave to council me, Ru, but not on matters of the heart. That makes you no better than the enemy." He is still staring at her, pensively, judgement in his gaze. She's fairly certain Rhydderch has never been in love, nor experienced it in any personal form. He has no basis to lecture her from. He opens his mouth and tastes the air as she watches.
The russet tom groans. "It's worse than I thought."
"Nothing is bad here, Ru," she growls, feeling her hackles raised. She knew, from the very start, that she ought to keep a safe distance between Emory and herself. She is not good at following her own orders. She licks at her chest in a vain attempt to calm herself. Nothing is bad; only slightly, slightly inconvenient.
Rhydderch's eyes widen. "Do you even know?"
"Know what?" she snaps defensively. Her fur still bristles uncomfortably.
Ru shakes his head. "The cause can wait, Miss. But the longer you wait, the harder it becomes to go out and enact your justice."
Miss turns, feeling brittle and diaphanous. The view from the gallery is enchanting; one feels powerful up here, no matter their status. Some sort of commotion brews as she stares- cats are running out of the door, shouting, sowing chaos. She thinks she sees Emory in the midst of it.
"What are you saying?" she asks. Her words feel heavy, and so does she. "Should I stop? Give up? Disband the revolution?" None of these things she can very well do.
"You've desired revenge for a long time," Ru says softly. "But now you've discovered anew that there's more to life that makes it worth living. I'm saying, perhaps, that it should not be your main objective anymore."
"I can't give up," she whispers, staring down at the cats she's brought together. That Emory has brought together, to be precise. She has started a big thing, sent it rolling down the mountain. Its momentum has only built and built; it's grown further and further from her as it hurtles forward. She is left behind, barely visible on the mountaintop parapet.
"They don't need you," Rhydderch replies, equally soft. "Things are already in motion." He sees her scanning the crowd for Emory, and frowns. "He will never leave this life. Not till you are avenged...or he is dead. And without him, things would fall apart. You are not giving up, Miss. You are moving on."
It does not sound bad, when he says it like that. Miss knows this bloody, vainglorious path she has traversed leads only to her death. Now she has realized there are other paths forward. Her anger has dissipated; there's a warmth where before there was only a hole in her chest, a flash of dark eyes and a smile, a light. Emory is set rigidly in his ways, charging headlong into revenge, an army at his heels. He wants to. Miss cannot die now. There is far too much to do but Emory, sweet vengeful Emory, will never be more than he is now. Righteous, dazzling, doomed.
"He will never let me out of his sight," she says sadly. It's only because he loves her, that he might doom her too.
Ru's sympathy is a palpable thing. "You may not have to worry about that. And I can find someone to help you, beyond this, too." As they watch, the commotion escalates; Emory himself dashes out of the door. His mission, whatever it is, looks important. "Leave while you can," he urges. She agrees. It's their only option. Besides, she thinks, without a trace of bitterness, none of them will miss me here. She has not the charisma or charm of Ru and Emory. She's never wanted it. With them by her side, it was never something she needed. Miss nods at Rhydderch, and they turn to once more descend the stairs. Likely for the last time; the finality hangs heavy in the air around her, and it seems strange that no one else seems to notice. Familiar faces turn to her as she makes her way downstairs. Several figures are missing; Achilleus is, notably, lured out on another scouting mission. She wonders if he will still follow the rebellion when she is gone. Miss has her doubts, but she likes to believe. Miss smiles at them all. She thinks they can all look past her scars now. Perhaps it started with her.
There might be angerment, she supposes, pain and betrayal. They will turn to Emory and courageously he shall lead them on. They will go to fight and die, because for them there is no alternative. No saving grace.
"Will you stay?' she asks her friend, already out of breath again. Ru is an unknown quantity, in most regards. She can't trust that he'll stick around in a fight, but she can hardly blame him; Rhydderch has never been a fighter. He prefers his quiet flirtations, the thrill of the chase and the catch.
"Yes, I suppose," he replies, as though he's not really thought of it. "I want to see the end." Miss doesn't blame him. Once, she thought she was the end.
They reach the bottom of the stairs. Cats part before her like a receding tide. Her authority is unquestioned here, her superiority a sure fact. Even so, they won't be lost without her. She bestows a benign glance upon them all. Let them remember her like this. Not the one who bartered for them, the one who bought and cajoled them. Instead, as the one who brought them together to finish what she is unable to. Someone, somewhere, must thank her.
They reach the warehouse doors without incident. The mood inside the building has calmed; whatever happened here, they've all already moved on. This is the kind of fortitude, she decides, that will allow to overcome her absence. It may even lead them to forgive her. The two door guards dip their heads and move aside, and she sees it; the path leading ahead, the choice that is not doom and bloodshed. Uncertain, she takes the first step. Those behind her do not notice her hesitancy, but then, they have never seen her falter. She will not do so today.
The path unfurls before her, though she does not know where it leads or where she ought to go. Miss just walks. There are no goodbyes.
She feels Rhydderch fall into line behind her. Perhaps he is wondering what he himself has set into motion. What has he rent apart, forged together, put out into the light? Nothing catastrophic, surely, but one can never know. "Where will I meet your friend?" she wonders allowed. She keeps her inner doubts to herself; she's not sure if Ru has any reputable friends at all, or what this mysterious character may be like. Still wondering, she makes a vow to trust him. Trust has not come easy to her lately, but Ru deserves it.
"The river," he says after a moment. "The old stone bridge." She knows the monument he speaks of, and nods. It seems easy enough. "I must go find her. Will you be alright on your own?"
Will she?
"I'll be fine," Miss replies, looking in the direction of the old bridge. A new direction. "Farewell, Ru." She must crane her head to lick his shoulder, but does so anyway. She senses they will never meet again. This amicable goodbye is the only one she gets. Miss turns with purpose and sets out, down the new path filled with doubt and promise. She knows not what comes next, but the unknown is fine.
"You'll like her!" he calls out, and he's likely right.
Miss walks on, confident in the knowledge that the beginning is not the end.
