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Post by absurdjinx on Jun 3, 2024 4:28:59 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/cTjKQSp/brindle~jpg | brindlehawk, "good things take time
longer than you might hope" |
Brindlehawk was out of breath by the time he spotted the barn. About a week ago, he’d entered camp after a successful hunting patrol and as he deposited his catch onto the fresh-kill pile, he overheard a clanmate tell another some shocking information. They said that a PrairieClan cat had mentioned to them at the most recent Gathering that there was a cat at the barn who looked an awful lot like RidgeClan’s former medicine cat apprentice. At first, Brindlehawk thought it was some kind of cruel joke. But then he heard something similar from a second clanmate. And then a third. It wasn’t long before he let himself wonder if this barn cat everyone spoke of was actually Bearclaw. Did his brother survive? The question plagued him for a couple of days until he couldn’t endure it any longer. Brindlehawk made sure a clanmate knew he was leaving camp to go hunting and that he’d probably be a while. Once he reached the river, he followed it downstream until he ended up at RidgeClan’s border. He didn’t even hesitate to step over the boundary. In fact, that’s when he picked up the pace, the sound of his racing heart like thunder in his ears. He ran until he found stepping stones, which he crossed cautiously. And then he took off again, darting over hills and through meadows. Brindlehawk only slowed when the barn became visible in the distance. His legs were weak and shaky, and he could barely breathe, but he forced himself to continue forward. When he finally arrived at the barn, he was still gasping for air, so he rocked back on his haunches a short distance from the barn’s entrance, right around the corner, to concentrate on breathing. Plus, Brindlehawk realized he hadn’t taken any time to think about what he’d say to this cat who was either his dead-but-not-dead littermate or the spitting image of his dead littermate. But first, he had to be able to talk, which he couldn’t do if he couldn’t breathe. Brindlehawk hadn’t heard or smelled anyone approaching, too focused on catching his breath, but he did notice when a pair of brown paws entered his line of sight. His heart skipped a beat when he looked up and recognized- “ Bearclaw?” |
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Post by tor on Jun 5, 2024 12:22:29 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/6nSHvqF/bear~png "It's hard," Summit mumbled, pressing his muzzle to Ashfang's neck, "to get out of this nest, now that you're here every night." He felt his mate's response more than he heard it, the low rumble of Ashfang's happy laughter in his throat, the soft way he chided Summit to get the hell up. Summit knew he was right. It was his day to stand guard near the entrance of the barn. A boring task, but one shared by all members of the barn old enough to understand the responsibility. With so many cats coming and going, someone each day had to keep track of them. Still, knowing he risked a scolding by whichever cat had been assigned the overnight shift, Summit delayed getting up a little longer. When he finally pulled himself from his rest, it was only because Ashfang all but pushed him out of the nest. The scolding would sit warmly on Summit's chest for the rest of the day. Even more so, when he thought about returning to Ashfang later that night. Until then, he needed to at least pretend not to be distracted. He relieved the previous guard with a dip of his head, ignoring their annoyed, accusatory quip about being late, settled into a patch of sun that fell just inside the old barn, and began keeping watch. It was a slow day for his home. Only a few cats trickled in — all cats he knew, most of them permanent residents coming back from a hunt, or a journey closer to the twoleg place. A few cats slipped out for their own trips. No one new. Toward the end of his shift, in the late afternoon, Summit finally found himself getting restless. And then, perfectly timed, the wind brought him something to do — an unfamiliar scent, caught on the breeze. Except... he wondered if it really was so unfamiliar. Summit rose to his paws and followed the scent, frowning as it took him just around the corner of the barn, and then freezing when he saw where it led to. Who it led to. His near twin — as towering as he was, covered in that same thick, brown tabby coat, with a mane meant to catch the sunlight as it trickled around him. Recognition was instant for the both of them. Of course it would be, he thought, watching the other cat, whose name danced just out of memory, process the ghost he was seeing. "Bearclaw?"The name made him wince, just as it had when Ashfang told it to him. It was a horrible name. One last insult RidgeClan thought to bestow on him. "I'm not called that," he said slowly. "I never was." Bearpaw would've been better. But he didn't want to fight the tom in front of him, not with words or anger. "You'll have to forgive me, brother," he said, voice softer. "I don't remember your name." |
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Post by absurdjinx on Jun 9, 2024 6:19:31 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/cTjKQSp/brindle~jpg | brindlehawk, "good things take time
longer than you might hope" |
Brindlehawk was too stunned to notice Bearclaw wince. He just couldn’t believe it - his littermate was alive. He wasn’t some lookalike, no, but his actual, living, breathing, biological brother. All he could manage to do was stare at Bearclaw through owlish eyes. He should’ve thought about what he was going to say, but would it have even mattered, as surprised and speechless as he was? Was he supposed to embrace Bearclaw and wail like a kit about how sorry he was that he hadn't taken that step to mend their relationship? Was he supposed to get upset about how Bearclaw had let Brindlehawk grieve for him when he’d been alive all this time? Even now, their relationship remained complicated. Thankfully, Bearclaw spoke first, but what he said wasn’t what Brindlehawk expected to hear. “ I’m not called that. I never was.” His face distorted in confusion as he struggled to understand, but then he realized that of course his brother wasn’t going by Bearclaw. When the river had taken him, he’d been Bearpaw. How foolish Brindlehawk was to think Bearpaw would’ve known anything about RidgeClan granting him a warrior name. “ You’ll have to forgive me, brother. I don’t remember your name.” Once more, all Brindlehawk could do was stare at Bearpaw while he tried to make sense of what he’d said. Bearpaw had called him brother, but he couldn’t recall his name? The more he thought about it, though, the more he believed that Bearpaw meant ‘brother’ as in ‘friend’. Once he’d recovered from his shock, Brindlehawk rose to his paws, puzzled eyes searching Bearpaw’s. He didn’t know what he was looking for - maybe a sign that Bearpaw was simply messing around, even though that didn’t seem like his brother’s style. When he didn’t find any humor in Bearpaw’s expression, Brindlehawk deflated. “ You don’t- you don’t remember me?” Looking crestfallen, he rocked back on his haunches and stared down at his feet for a few heartbeats as reality sunk in. Would his brother ever remember him and the complicated history they shared or would they have to start over? With a deep breath, he met Bearpaw’s gaze again and his voice was thick with emotion as he introduced himself, “ I’m Brindlehawk, your littermate. Do you really not remember me?” |
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Post by tor on Jun 14, 2024 12:27:43 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/6nSHvqF/bear~png What does he see when he looks at me? Summit remained quiet as his brother observed him, eyes searching for something Summit worried he couldn't provide. His memories of his brother were scarce, but they grew more clear every day. He remembered them falling out. He remembered them trying again. Still, would his brother be satisfied, if the cat he met now wasn't Bearclaw? Summit knew he was different from the cat he would've grown to be, had the river not taken him away. "You don't- you don't remember me?" His brother deflated. Politely, Summit waited to speak until it looked like his brother said all he needed to say. In the brief silence that followed, Summit allowed himself to take his brother in properly — his tabby fur, his bright eyes, his wide shoulders. They were nearly twins. Summit hadn't remembered that. "I'm Brindlehawk, your littermate. Do you really not remember me?"And just like that, a wave of memories rushed over him. Summit was nearly knocked over by the force of his recollection. Instead, he closed his eyes tightly, bracing himself before speaking. It had been just like this when he remembered Ash. Powerful. Exhausting. Exhilarating. "I remember you," he said. His voice sounded far from his ears. Come back to your body, he told himself. Come back. Be still. It's alright.He needed Ash, but his mate was with the kits. Only by a miracle would his handsome silver pelt come slipping from the barn doors. "Forgive me. I remember you, but I didn't remember your name. Brindlehawk." Ancestors above, how could he ever forget? It was a good name. A strong one. "My mind isn't what it used to be." I had amnesia. I only started remembering two moons ago. Things come in pieces and waves. Somedays, I think I'm Bearpaw. And other days I barely remember the love of my life. I don't know who I am, and I'm terrified I'll never really know. I'm terrified I'm just a ghost who should've died in that river. I need my brother. I need my brother.There was no way he could say all that. Instead he said, "I hit my head on river stones when I fell last leaf-bare. I've been living with amnesia ever since. Things have just begun to come back." |
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