Post by cowbird on Jun 21, 2022 7:13:15 GMT -5
(I think i'll collect all my short story pieces here after I post on the main CloudClan page so they arent lost to time)
Leafbare was a season of many things, depending on your perspective. For some it was just plain old cold, bitter and unforgiving. Others found the freezing snow to be the most dazzling thing nature could bring. There were times in Doveheart’s life where she was in either one of those groups. There were even times where she was both at once.
This season, however, the former Tribe cat was neither.
It had been moons since she last seen the love of her life, the father of her kits, and the closest cat to her heart. One of the former queens, formerly known as Strawberryfrost, had gone insane during the Frostbitten War after the loss of two of her daughters, and in turn had become as wicked as Lilyfrost herself, tipping off the captain of the Watch to the relationship between Doveheart and Almondthicket.
Almondthicket. She hadn't said, or even thought, of his name in stars know how long. She didn't want to relive the sadder memories she last had with him- the somber, heartbroken look in his eyes when he came to the haunting conclusion that his kits would never know him as their father. The way he looked at her one last time before being rushed off to the Wall once more to fulfill is sworn-in dirty to his clan. Yet here she was, night after night, dawn after dawn, thinking of the last times she saw him. Was this normal? No grown cat she knew ever felt this lovesick, this immature towards being separated from their mate. After all, he wasn't dead. She shouldn't be so mellow and crestfallen, especially with suspicious, threatening eyes still on her family and a whole litter of kits to keep raising. And yet she still very much was.
In the moon-lit night, Doveheart looked over at her kits. Now close to being apprenticed, the three of them had outgrown even her last litter and took up the majority of the nest. Long ago she thought of expanding the nest in case they took the sizes of their father and outgrown it. While depression crippled her desire to do anything that reminded her of the Watcher she fell in love with, it had no way of stopping the three felines under her care from tripling in size since they last saw their true father. And true father indeed! Nectarkit who was unmistakably her father’s daughter from birth had grown even broader in the shoulder, her eyes bluer each passing day. Tinderkit’s quiet confidence blossomed into one she saw in his father from the moment she laid eyes on him. It didn't take a warrior ancestor to spell out why she couldn't block out the sorrow of being seperated from her mate- his looks, personality, quirks were everywhere Doveheart looked! Yet with an almost twisted sense of love and desperation, the pale queen appreciated the reminders her kits involuntarily gave her and the dread of them leaving the nest- both literally and metaphorically- had a much more negative impact on her mental health than the young mother would like to even acknowledge. She turned her sad smile to the best across from her where Marblefur curled up, her own brood of three sleeping beside her. She too must be suffering yet, with a pang of guilt, Doveheart noticed that she did not crumble and become a shell of her former self. Unlike Doveheart, her life and personality didn't revolve around being in love with someone. Marblefur was ever the loyal friend, helping Doveheart raise her own while also juggling the ones she had for Woodtremor- who was also forced to stay distant from the queens to avoid any more suspicion to rise about the family. She never faltered, not once and yet Doveheart couldn't even harness the skills she learned from raising her first litter to handle the pain she felt now and keep it together for them. Does this make me a terrible mother? What does this mean- will my kits end up hating me because I was distant? As soon as the thought came to her, an even more bitter one followed. If they ever find out that Valorpledge isn't their father… might as well kiss the title of mother goodbye. Could you disown a parent? Doveheart wasn't sure that was a thing, but she heard of stories in this very clan of those who in some way shunned away their parents so maybe it wasn't entirely-
The nursery entrance rustled noisily, and the pale she-cat twisted around, defensiveness beginning to rear up when she saw a fear stricken familiar face poke their head in the between the naked brittle branches, blue eyes wide and searching frantically. “Lichenfur!” Doveheart gasped as her daughter leaped through the nursery towards her. Her previous litter’s youngest had grown healthily over the last few moons and with a brief flash of pride the queen caught the sight of young, lean muscles rippling as the she-cat thrust her muzzle in the scruff of her mother. Doveheart deftly hopped out of the nest to not wake the younger kits while still holding onto her daughter. “What's wrong, Like? Is it the sickness? Was it, was it a nightmare?” It was rather juvenile to ask the last question- Lichenfur was a grown cat and while Doveheart saw no age when dealing with her oldest kits and their little mix-ups, she was sure had she asked that of her tougher kits like Icemoon or Riverflower, they’d send her a indignant glare immediately. Yet when Lichenfur pulled back, tears soaking her pretty gray face, Doveheart froze as she observed the cat struggle to explain. “I… its.. Oh mother it’s grandfather.” Doveheart’s chest tightened.
In a flash the two bundled out of the den as quietly as they could and pelted through the dimly lit camp towards the elders den. Doveheart could almost hear the wheezing breaths of a tom even though she wasn't there yet. “You know he’s been ill on and off these last few moons, but recently…” Doveheart didn't have to look at her daughter to understand the pain that caught in her voice. The queen felt a sense of guilt course through her. She knew of her father’s failing health for seasons now and while they spoke, the constant responsibility of being a mother and the depression that overwhelmed her in the last few moons made her blind to the pain her father was going through. She not only failed her kits, but now the only parent she’d ever known. The pair burst in the elders' den, and Doveheart’s bright blue eyes shifted directly to the center of the den where the frail, thin dark gray tabby lay. His flank rose ever so slightly as if he was sleeping and for a moment, Doveheart sat at the mouth of the den almost in a trance of denial watching him. He groaned slightly and that seemed to awake both Lichenfur and Doveheart and the two shuffled towards the ailing tom. It was still the middle of the night yet all the other elders sat up in their nest and even in the shadows of the roof, the glint of sadness reflected in their eyes as Doveheart passed them by. Did they do this all the time? Watch other elders, friends, acquaintances, old fighting partners die slowly? The thought rattled the queen even more: she accepted the wretched fact that her father was dying. As she stood over him, tears pooling in her eyes but somehow refusing to fall, it didn't feel real. Dagger was his name. He had never been the mightiest warrior or the great strategist, but very few commanded respect like her father back in Xhii’s Tribe before the War drove them out and shrunk their already small numbers. He was a benevolent tom; level headed and always setting the example for true honor and grace that he expected from the youth of the Tribe. Now that great warrior lay wasted at his daughter’s and granddaughter’s paws, surrounded by cats he would have brief friendships with. His large yellow eyes were fighting to stay open as the strength, the will to live depleted from him quickly. With a visible struggle, the wizened tom moved to fully face his descents, flicking their paws away as the reached forward to ease him back down. “There’s no saving me now,” he grumbled, attempting to seem as tough and grumpy as he always was, but his fervor was long gone and his words were not ones of levity. Those aged yellow eyes rounded on the two she-cats before him, initially hard, but then melted into pools of love. Lichenfur crouched and pressed her muzzle on her grandfather’s leg as he struggled. “You’ve come to see the old croon before he joins the ancestors, hmm?” Doveheart’s face drained of any heat, her paws going clammy. He hates me. I've been so-
“Calm, my child,” Doveheart’s father continued, his yellow eyes catching the panic of her only living daughter, his sight still sharp as ever in his final moments. “You have gone through a great deal but my love for you still knows no boundaries. In the past, now and in the future.” He reached out a paw and the two different shades of gray met gently. The tears fell freely now from Doveheart as she gripped the paw of her father. “Oh Dad…” she mewed, her voice thin and whisper-like as if it was whisked away suddenly. She didn't know what to do, what to say. The day she’d be an orphan…. Her mother had died when she was very young and so while they had a bond, most of what she knew about life was passed down from her father. Even at her age, a grown queen, mother of two litters, she felt small and alone, not too different from the hollow feeling she felt the morning her mother succumbed to illness too. She knew she wasn't going to be alone though. She still knew that, still believed that, as Dagger spoke words of comfort to Lichenfur who was openly bawling now. She still knew that as the ebbing light faded from his eyes and he went still. She knew it as the sun began to rise and the sky went pink-orange and the other elders with the help of a solemn Elknose took Dagger’s body to bury with Lichenfur trailing head and tail down hung low and Doveheart and her other kits sitting hollow eyed in the center of camp as the whole clan moved away after the brief vigil. And she still very much knew that evening as she stood precariously at the edge of the frozen waterfall, gazing off into the growing shadows as the very faint scent of her father entangled around her. “I’ll be seeing you again, my baby dove,” came a distorted but calm voice as the queen sat there, still and reflective. She opened her mouth to speak, but then an even fainter yet achingly familiar scent curled around her other side and for the smallest of moments, the spirits of her fallen parents seemed to embrace her. She wished she could see them right now, tails intertwined, heads close together with a love Doveheart held to the highest levels. Then they were gone. After a moment, memories jumping about in her head, the cold wind blew the queen to her paws and with one last look at the stars, she turned tail and headed home, a lonely, sad thought slipping through her lips as she padded across the frozen ground.
“I’m no one’s little girl anymore.”
Dagger’s Death
This season, however, the former Tribe cat was neither.
It had been moons since she last seen the love of her life, the father of her kits, and the closest cat to her heart. One of the former queens, formerly known as Strawberryfrost, had gone insane during the Frostbitten War after the loss of two of her daughters, and in turn had become as wicked as Lilyfrost herself, tipping off the captain of the Watch to the relationship between Doveheart and Almondthicket.
Almondthicket. She hadn't said, or even thought, of his name in stars know how long. She didn't want to relive the sadder memories she last had with him- the somber, heartbroken look in his eyes when he came to the haunting conclusion that his kits would never know him as their father. The way he looked at her one last time before being rushed off to the Wall once more to fulfill is sworn-in dirty to his clan. Yet here she was, night after night, dawn after dawn, thinking of the last times she saw him. Was this normal? No grown cat she knew ever felt this lovesick, this immature towards being separated from their mate. After all, he wasn't dead. She shouldn't be so mellow and crestfallen, especially with suspicious, threatening eyes still on her family and a whole litter of kits to keep raising. And yet she still very much was.
In the moon-lit night, Doveheart looked over at her kits. Now close to being apprenticed, the three of them had outgrown even her last litter and took up the majority of the nest. Long ago she thought of expanding the nest in case they took the sizes of their father and outgrown it. While depression crippled her desire to do anything that reminded her of the Watcher she fell in love with, it had no way of stopping the three felines under her care from tripling in size since they last saw their true father. And true father indeed! Nectarkit who was unmistakably her father’s daughter from birth had grown even broader in the shoulder, her eyes bluer each passing day. Tinderkit’s quiet confidence blossomed into one she saw in his father from the moment she laid eyes on him. It didn't take a warrior ancestor to spell out why she couldn't block out the sorrow of being seperated from her mate- his looks, personality, quirks were everywhere Doveheart looked! Yet with an almost twisted sense of love and desperation, the pale queen appreciated the reminders her kits involuntarily gave her and the dread of them leaving the nest- both literally and metaphorically- had a much more negative impact on her mental health than the young mother would like to even acknowledge. She turned her sad smile to the best across from her where Marblefur curled up, her own brood of three sleeping beside her. She too must be suffering yet, with a pang of guilt, Doveheart noticed that she did not crumble and become a shell of her former self. Unlike Doveheart, her life and personality didn't revolve around being in love with someone. Marblefur was ever the loyal friend, helping Doveheart raise her own while also juggling the ones she had for Woodtremor- who was also forced to stay distant from the queens to avoid any more suspicion to rise about the family. She never faltered, not once and yet Doveheart couldn't even harness the skills she learned from raising her first litter to handle the pain she felt now and keep it together for them. Does this make me a terrible mother? What does this mean- will my kits end up hating me because I was distant? As soon as the thought came to her, an even more bitter one followed. If they ever find out that Valorpledge isn't their father… might as well kiss the title of mother goodbye. Could you disown a parent? Doveheart wasn't sure that was a thing, but she heard of stories in this very clan of those who in some way shunned away their parents so maybe it wasn't entirely-
The nursery entrance rustled noisily, and the pale she-cat twisted around, defensiveness beginning to rear up when she saw a fear stricken familiar face poke their head in the between the naked brittle branches, blue eyes wide and searching frantically. “Lichenfur!” Doveheart gasped as her daughter leaped through the nursery towards her. Her previous litter’s youngest had grown healthily over the last few moons and with a brief flash of pride the queen caught the sight of young, lean muscles rippling as the she-cat thrust her muzzle in the scruff of her mother. Doveheart deftly hopped out of the nest to not wake the younger kits while still holding onto her daughter. “What's wrong, Like? Is it the sickness? Was it, was it a nightmare?” It was rather juvenile to ask the last question- Lichenfur was a grown cat and while Doveheart saw no age when dealing with her oldest kits and their little mix-ups, she was sure had she asked that of her tougher kits like Icemoon or Riverflower, they’d send her a indignant glare immediately. Yet when Lichenfur pulled back, tears soaking her pretty gray face, Doveheart froze as she observed the cat struggle to explain. “I… its.. Oh mother it’s grandfather.” Doveheart’s chest tightened.
In a flash the two bundled out of the den as quietly as they could and pelted through the dimly lit camp towards the elders den. Doveheart could almost hear the wheezing breaths of a tom even though she wasn't there yet. “You know he’s been ill on and off these last few moons, but recently…” Doveheart didn't have to look at her daughter to understand the pain that caught in her voice. The queen felt a sense of guilt course through her. She knew of her father’s failing health for seasons now and while they spoke, the constant responsibility of being a mother and the depression that overwhelmed her in the last few moons made her blind to the pain her father was going through. She not only failed her kits, but now the only parent she’d ever known. The pair burst in the elders' den, and Doveheart’s bright blue eyes shifted directly to the center of the den where the frail, thin dark gray tabby lay. His flank rose ever so slightly as if he was sleeping and for a moment, Doveheart sat at the mouth of the den almost in a trance of denial watching him. He groaned slightly and that seemed to awake both Lichenfur and Doveheart and the two shuffled towards the ailing tom. It was still the middle of the night yet all the other elders sat up in their nest and even in the shadows of the roof, the glint of sadness reflected in their eyes as Doveheart passed them by. Did they do this all the time? Watch other elders, friends, acquaintances, old fighting partners die slowly? The thought rattled the queen even more: she accepted the wretched fact that her father was dying. As she stood over him, tears pooling in her eyes but somehow refusing to fall, it didn't feel real. Dagger was his name. He had never been the mightiest warrior or the great strategist, but very few commanded respect like her father back in Xhii’s Tribe before the War drove them out and shrunk their already small numbers. He was a benevolent tom; level headed and always setting the example for true honor and grace that he expected from the youth of the Tribe. Now that great warrior lay wasted at his daughter’s and granddaughter’s paws, surrounded by cats he would have brief friendships with. His large yellow eyes were fighting to stay open as the strength, the will to live depleted from him quickly. With a visible struggle, the wizened tom moved to fully face his descents, flicking their paws away as the reached forward to ease him back down. “There’s no saving me now,” he grumbled, attempting to seem as tough and grumpy as he always was, but his fervor was long gone and his words were not ones of levity. Those aged yellow eyes rounded on the two she-cats before him, initially hard, but then melted into pools of love. Lichenfur crouched and pressed her muzzle on her grandfather’s leg as he struggled. “You’ve come to see the old croon before he joins the ancestors, hmm?” Doveheart’s face drained of any heat, her paws going clammy. He hates me. I've been so-
“Calm, my child,” Doveheart’s father continued, his yellow eyes catching the panic of her only living daughter, his sight still sharp as ever in his final moments. “You have gone through a great deal but my love for you still knows no boundaries. In the past, now and in the future.” He reached out a paw and the two different shades of gray met gently. The tears fell freely now from Doveheart as she gripped the paw of her father. “Oh Dad…” she mewed, her voice thin and whisper-like as if it was whisked away suddenly. She didn't know what to do, what to say. The day she’d be an orphan…. Her mother had died when she was very young and so while they had a bond, most of what she knew about life was passed down from her father. Even at her age, a grown queen, mother of two litters, she felt small and alone, not too different from the hollow feeling she felt the morning her mother succumbed to illness too. She knew she wasn't going to be alone though. She still knew that, still believed that, as Dagger spoke words of comfort to Lichenfur who was openly bawling now. She still knew that as the ebbing light faded from his eyes and he went still. She knew it as the sun began to rise and the sky went pink-orange and the other elders with the help of a solemn Elknose took Dagger’s body to bury with Lichenfur trailing head and tail down hung low and Doveheart and her other kits sitting hollow eyed in the center of camp as the whole clan moved away after the brief vigil. And she still very much knew that evening as she stood precariously at the edge of the frozen waterfall, gazing off into the growing shadows as the very faint scent of her father entangled around her. “I’ll be seeing you again, my baby dove,” came a distorted but calm voice as the queen sat there, still and reflective. She opened her mouth to speak, but then an even fainter yet achingly familiar scent curled around her other side and for the smallest of moments, the spirits of her fallen parents seemed to embrace her. She wished she could see them right now, tails intertwined, heads close together with a love Doveheart held to the highest levels. Then they were gone. After a moment, memories jumping about in her head, the cold wind blew the queen to her paws and with one last look at the stars, she turned tail and headed home, a lonely, sad thought slipping through her lips as she padded across the frozen ground.
“I’m no one’s little girl anymore.”