storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Jun 9, 2024 12:49:42 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/IzoLz1i~png Dawn had settled over the valley, as the she-cat made her way up the peak. The way that climbing into the mountain side took her breath away was all the more liberating for her, carefully padding towards the end goal. Camp was lively today, despite the clan's setbacks in the recent moons. But the air was still filled with uncertainty, low morale overall.
Peregrinetalon missed the happy days, as she referred to them herself. Back when she had first joined the clan, and everything was so fresh and new. Everyone got along, They had the oracle to guide them, and teach them all there is to know about the higher powers in Silverpelt. She knew she was happier too. Back when her and her friends were Peregrinepaw, Sparrowpaw, and Swanpaw. Their adventures and ambitions seemed endless, until the war. MistClan was always to blame, in her mind. There was no reason for them to fight Wolfstar's requests for RidgeClan to take ownership.
But, the past still carried a heavy shoulder on all her clanmates. Personally, she attributed it to the lack of guidance that the Oracle supplied to the clan. Their spirituality captivated everyone in the clan, and it was important, more than ever, for cats to have faith to lean back on. But, the stupid council decided to do away with the role. Pathetic... weak.
The flame she-cat moved over the crest of the gravesite as she looked at all the marked stones around her. Generations of the clan cats seemed to be watching her as she moved through the area. Were they judging her, due to her non-clan background? Or praising her, as she had accepted their faith as her own and battle for their legacy to continue? The thoughts only clouded her head until she realized she was approaching Swanthroat's grave. Peregrinetalon had pain in her chest as she approaching, knowing that she should visit her deceased mate, her first love, more often. The large, intimidating she-cat looked soft around the edges as she studied the stones that marked the grave, fire burning in her throat to speak. But, she kept her thoughts to herself, as silent worshipping and praying was more her style.
Peregrinetalon then began to settle at the base of the grave, tucking her tail and paws under herself while facing the grave. Again, she admired the work of herself, Sparrowclaw, and Swanthroat's parents while decorating the burial place for her. She deserved it. She deserved a long life. The birds whistled their new-leaf songs as she closed her eyes, with prayers that circled in her head while resting in the silence of RidgeClan's heart. |
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Post by owl on Jul 5, 2024 10:50:14 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/1ZLVP2c/cougar~jpg | cougarcloud do you know that i could break beneath the weight
of the goodness, love, i still carry for you?
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Cougarcloud wasn't surprised to see another cat approach the graveyard out of the corner of her eye. It was a fresh morning, still cool, but a heaviness sat in the air. It was likely the humidity, but it weighed on her all the same. She hadn't been able to sleep much. She had been thinking about how she'd first met Wolfstar, when he was still Wolfsong. When she still believed he was hers. What she wouldn't give to go back to that time. She understood now why ignorance was bliss. As a young cat, she'd wanted to know everything. Now she knew some things were better left unknown.
Even after all he'd done to her, and all she'd done to him, here she sat at his grave after climbing half a mountain with her bad leg to get to him. Not far from the top of the bluff, marked by a tall pile of rocks. The flowers that had been left for him had long wilted and turned to dust. She hadn't brought any with her. She hadn't thought of it. In her defense, there were few that bloomed this early in the season. She didn't think he'd be fooled by any offerings of flowers anyways. He must know all she knew, in death.
It was a welcome interruption from her thoughts to notice that a clanmate had joined her at the gravesite. A cat she hadn't had the pleasure of talking much to. Peregrinetalon. Her bright ginger and white coat was rather unusual in Ridgeclan, and no wonder—she had not been born into it. Regardless, she had proven herself a loyal warrior time and time again. Cougarcloud cared not for a cat's blood like many of her clanmates did. She cared that they had shown loyalty. Plenty of cats born in the clan had deserted it when times got hard. Pictures of her sister flashed in her mind, and she gritted her teeth and quickly pushed them away.
Regardless of them not having spoken much, the molly knew plenty about the other cat. She remembered that she'd lost her mate young—a childhood friend, to whitecough. She must be here to visit Swanthroat. It had been a long time since then, but Cougarcloud knew as well as any that time did not heal all wounds. Some of them stayed open and raw your entire life. Some scarred over ugly. A bitter, ironic thought came to her mind. That here Peregrinetalon sat mourning the mate that loved her as much as she did, and Cougarcloud the one who had never truly loved her and who she had brought about the end of. But to the other cat, they were the same.
She limped over to the brightly colored tabby, foot dragging in it's tiredness after such a long trek. Still, Peregrinetalon did not look up as she approached. She could not tell if she was being ignored or simply was not noticed. She didn't know the molly well enough to tell. "She was a good cat," she meowed softly, voice hardly louder than the distant birdsong. "She's proud of you for all that you've done for the clan." Her head tipped up to the lightening sky, and rather than thinking of her mate, the faces of her parents came to her eyes. She'd always been comforted by the idea of them watching over her, even after they were gone.
She still wished they were here. Sighing deeply, she shifted to lean heavily on her three good legs. Peregrinetalon's eyes, as golden as the waking sun, met hers and she felt an invisible shiver run down her spine. Weariness crept into her voice, and her own eyes betrayed her fatigue. "We never get enough time with them, do we?" Less of a question, more of a fact. No amount of time was ever enough. She'd never felt ready to lose anyone before they were gone. Not even Wolfstar. I am glad he is gone. But that does not mean I do not wish... that I was able to spend more time with him when he was good. When he was a father, my lover, not a tyrant.
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storms make trees take deeper roots
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Post by cosmic on Jul 6, 2024 18:27:34 GMT -6
#s://i~imgur~com/IzoLz1i~png It was almost as if she had caught herself in a trance before a scent washed over her. RidgeClan, thankfully, as she knew that she wasn't the only one here. How she had not scented another clanmate here before she took it upon herself to pray was above her. Peregrinetalon determined that she needed to start being more aware of her surroundings before settling in to pray, just incase a rogue or a far-traveled Kingdom cat had the wrong idea to mess with her.
But her eyes gently peeled open at the sound of dirt being unsettled and dragged toward her. At first, her eyesight only remained on the grave of her fallen lover, but as the sound did not leave the burial ground, she became suspicious of the cat that came closer to her. Perhaps the cat was just giving a goodbye before leaving. But then, the presence was right beside her, though her eyes kept gazing at Swanthroat's decorations.
The voice immediately showed the she-cat who was with her. The mate of the previous leader, Cougarcloud. Everything made sense now, as she had probably been up at the Cairn Peak to do the same thing and mourn her lost mate. Her eyes opened a little more as the queen spoke, as the guardian held her tongue to not interrupt her superior. Swanthroat was a good cat. A damn good cat. She shouldn't have suffered in the way that she did, and she should be here in the burial site with Peregrinetalon. She should be off on a morning patrol, ready to serve her clan to the highest potential. The guardian breathed deep after Cougarcloud's words, reveling in the idea of another time where all three of them were together right now. Maybe even Wolfstar could be there too.
But, reality is a harsh one, as she settled her eyes on the fawn-pelted queen. RidgeClan cats tended to be more muted in color that she was, but it was a sight that pleased her eyes. A cat like the one before her, a mate to a former leader, was a spectacle of beauty and grace to any cat that laid eyes on her. Age had ripened the she-cat well, as she still looked to be in her prime to be a warrior if not for her injury.
"Never," she finally spoke, as her golden eyes turned back to the grave of Swanthroat. Her slender tail invited the older cat to sit with her. A sign of respect, as she was only a tad bit older than her. How odd it was that Cougarcloud, and any older cat, seemed to know more about the youth than the youth knew about the older cats of the clan. It seemed like it should have been reversed, but Peregrinetalon wouldn't speculate on the workings of the world. All she knew, is that she didn't really know much about the queen.
"I presume that you were visiting Wolfstar? Or, perhaps another cat?" Peregrinetalon spoke with a coarseness and diligent tone. What the odds would be that two widows were both up at this particular morning to mourn their loves. StarClan had a funny way of making these things happen. "Wolfstar is proud of you too. Raising your children into the noble cats they are today." The kits of Wolfstar and Cougarcloud were, in Peregrinetalon's mind, an example of strong RidgeClan cats going beyond the legacy that was set before them. She knew that they were as determined as any other RidgeClan cat to keep the clan strong, just as their father wanted them to do. If only one day she could have kits to follow in her footsteps...
"Do you think they are mirroring us? Swanthroat and Wolfstar are above us both sitting together, reminiscing about the days that were... looking at us as we speak about them." Peregrinetalon liked to imagine that. That perhaps they all were closer to their warrior ancestors as prophesied by the oracle of the past. It gave her bliss, hope for the future of their homeland. |
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Post by owl on Sept 7, 2024 14:44:54 GMT -6
#s://i~ibb~co/1ZLVP2c/cougar~jpg | cougarcloud that i'd walk so far just to take
the injury of finally knowing you?
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Peregrinetalon watched her for a few moments before speaking. It felt much longer in Cougarcloud's mind. Maybe because she'd never liked being stared at, and judged, but this time it felt different. Like those eyes were piercing right through her, hot like the rays of the sun—
She realized with a jolt why her clanmate's gaze unsettled her so. Moons ago, when she was still young and a little reckless, and she'd decided to go out hunting alone at dusk. She'd heard rustling in the bushes, and expecting it to be some kind of prey, she'd sought the noise out. Instead she walked into a clearing where an owl crouched on the ground. Wings spread over its prey, and it had turned its head and stared at her. Eyes liquid orange-gold, burning and bright. Pupils seemingly the size of poppy seeds, pin-holes in the fiery depths. It hadn't moved, and neither did she for a moment. And then she turned and ran, and ran and ran, until she returned to camp, breathless and deeply unnerved.
She hadn't gone out on her own for moons after that, and she shied from birds of prey be they dead or alive. And for moons, she couldn't place a claw on why that encounter had bothered her so. Until it finally dawned on her—those brazen eyes, they were almost catlike. They'd possessed a kind of sentience she'd not expected outside of her own kind. Cougarcloud had long gotten over the severity of her terror, but still held a healthy fear for birds like that because of that night. And perhaps a little bit of respect she'd never had before, too.
Peregrinetalon's eyes, well, she shared the eyes of her namesake. And as she spoke, and returned her eyes to the grave of her mate, the amber molly felt herself relax. But she also felt a little cold, as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. The ginger molly's striped tail brushed the ground next to her, inviting her to sit. She took it gladly—her leg still ached, even if she was putting as little weight on it as possible. Settling down next to the other cat with a tired exhale, she wrapped her tail around her paws. She almost expected them to sit in silence, but then her clanmate broke it with a question.
It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, she almost rather talk than be left alone with her thoughts. "You would be correct," she meowed, momentarily bowing her head, "He has been on my mind a lot lately. I wished to feel close to him." It was true. It was easier to speak about him when it was the truth. She'd always been a good liar, but that didn't mean it was always easy. "Wolfstar is proud of you too. Raising your children into the noble cats they are today." That brought a smile to her face, however watery. Their kits were her pride and joy—their pride and joy—the one thing she knew Wolfstar cared about as much as she did. That they shared love for. She would have liked to think she was a flawless mother... but she knew she was not perfect. And she knew that whatever she did, she could not fill the role of their father.
That much had become evident in the moons of the litter's adolescence. She loved them, she understood them, but she could not help them if they did not want to be helped. Could not comfort them if they did not want to be comforted. I should have tried harder. I... wish I hadn't let them drift so far away. I'm trying to change that now, but it's hard. It's hard to change the direction of roots that have grown apart. Peregrinetalon's next question caught her off guard. The two of them, in Starclan, watching us together as we think about them? The image came to her mind, vivid and dreamlike. She didn't have the heart to fully dismiss it, knowing where her mate could truly be residing in the afterlife. Not above them, but below.
"I would like to think that, I-" she paused, and then shook her head, almost imperceptibly. "I would like to think that." And in this moment, she let herself think that. That maybe, in death, Wolfstar understood why she had to do what she did. That he had come to his senses. That he could forgive her. And that even if he couldn't... maybe he could remember the good things, the fond things, just for a little while. She remembered his laugh, imagined him sitting next to a small, white she-cat—what she remembered of Swanthroat—and they both gazed down through the holes in the clouds. Talking and chatting as clanmates did, as they did in life.
"What do you think they'd be talking about?" she said, turning to Peregrinetalon with softened eyes. She knew it was an impossible question, that could be answered in a million ways, but she'd like to keep the fantasy alive a little longer. Maybe... talking about him would make her feel better. And maybe, she was more than a little curious to hear what her clanmate's answer would be. |
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