Post by ♏aple♢ on Nov 6, 2015 18:31:25 GMT
History was doomed to repeat itself.
You would think that in all her moons, seasons, years of life, Starlingfur would have learned this. You would think, that for all the suffering and pain that she'd endured- that the clans had endured- that they would have learned from their mistakes. Learned from the past. But cats were mortal creatures. And all creatures mortal were prey to folly. Only so many things could happen before the cycle repeated. Cats attacked cats, prey disappeared in Leaf-Bare, Clans crumbled and were reborn. So why was it that Starlingfur could not learn this, the most simple of lessons? Perhaps the progress of rebirth had tinted her eyes rose. Perhaps she had grown too comfortable in her newfound position. Or perhaps too uncomfortable. All cats in Cedarclan were under a great deal of stress as it was. And this only made it worse.
She had to steel herself as she climbed the High Branch. Copper eyes straight ahead, ignoring the pairs that followed her every move. She had to.. try to handle this situation from an unbiased viewpoint. She had to appear strong. Cool. Calm. She had never cared for appearances. As a young warrior, she had skipped patrols. She had slept in. She hadn't groomed her fur. She hadn't cared for anybody or anything but herself. Herself, and safety. But now cats relied on her. They looked to her for guidance, and they looked to her for a pillar of strength. Even as she broke, she had to appear solid. Even as memories flooded her like the harshest of rains, she had to appear a desert. For such an expressive cat, it was hard to conceal her feelings. For such a distant cat, it was hard to care. For a cat who had been through so much.. It was hard to do this. But she had to. As leader of Cedarclan, and as the mother of her kits.
She had to deal punishment to Birchtail.
Father of her kits. Mate of six seasons. And now, a senior warrior what had attacked his junior in the middle of camp. It was a serious crime, attacking a clanmate. One that cats found themselves exiled for. And for a cat such as Birchtail... The act was unthinkable. He'd always been so friendly, so warm, so kind. Always willing to lend a helping paw or a ready ear to those in need. And give one even when cats turned him away. He had helped her so much. Birchtail.. had filled a void that she thought long closed. He'd pulled her from the darkness and into the light. It was because of him that she could do this. That she.. better learned how to be social with her clanmates. That she was even motivated to do so. It was because of him, in a way, that this clan even existed. For without the promise of their unborn kits.. Starlingfur might have never returned to the territories.
She would have lived out her life as a loner. Gone back to her old ways. Hunting alone, fighting alone, sleeping alone. Turning to the world of dreams in an effort to run away from the pain of waking. Perhaps she would have gone south. Returned to the old territories, if she could have found her way. If they still even existed. And if not.. she would have wandered. For the rest of her days. The mountains held too many cats. The cities were too harsh. The sea... held dark memories. She probably wouldn't have stopped. Might have tried to put her clan life behind her. Not start anew- but live out the rest of her days, at the very least.
Instead, she was here. Leading a clan barely one moon older than her litter of four. She was a leader. A protector. It was a role that she had never been born for. But one that she had taken up when there proved to be no other options. One that... put a great deal of stress on her. But perhaps, one that she could come to enjoy.
This, however, she did not.
The she-cat pushed her way through the lichen covering her empty den. A small cave, high in the camp's cliff wall. Dark and cold, completely lacking in the way of bedding or decoration. She did not live here. Ever since she'd come to their new home, her den had been in the nursery. This place was for meetings. And meetings none to happy. Duskblaze's scent still lingered. And deep in the earth, Starlingfur wondered if she could still smell Blackstar. Or if it was just her imagination- or if she was trying to avoid the task at hand.
He was already here. Starlingfur had sent the tom to her den after his attack on Specklefoot in the clearing. She'd escorted him to Ravenface, and Birchtail had waited. But now... they were both here. Starlingfur sighed. She shook her head. For a time, she didn't even look him in the eyes. Frost gripped her heart. It was like she'd finally pulled herself above freezing waters, only to become trapped beneath the ice again. What could she say? Two cats burned inside her. Starlingfur the leader, and Starlingfur the loner. Half of her wanted to lay her heart bare, ask him 'Why, why would you do this? Why would you do this to him? Why would you do this to me?' But that. That was her emotional side. The rational side- the planner side- wanted her to shut down. To deal with business as strictly that- business. She was a leader, and he was her warrior. A warrior who had attacked his clanmate seemingly without provocation. And a warrior whose clan would not rest until they saw him pay retribution.
She sighed. Again. Always the planner. Always the thinker. But this- she couldn't even think of what to do here. She was so new to this position. Her deputyship had been seasons ago, and she was rebuilding the clan from the ground up. She didn't know what was supposed to be done in this situation. She was silent, for a time. And unlike their previous silences- their comfortable silences- their nights in the warriors den, their hunts, their walks, their patrols, how they watched their kits when they slept- this was heavy. But eventually, she rose her eyes to meet his. Copper against green. The sun against the forest. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. Distant. In the back of her mind, she knew. It had a cloudiness to it that had been present when she'd first joined Duskclan, all those moons ago. Before everything. Before this. But cold.
She sighed. Again. Always the planner. Always the thinker. But this- she couldn't even think of what to do here. She was so new to this position. Her deputyship had been seasons ago, and she was rebuilding the clan from the ground up. She didn't know what was supposed to be done in this situation. She was silent, for a time. And unlike their previous silences- their comfortable silences- their nights in the warriors den, their hunts, their walks, their patrols, how they watched their kits when they slept- this was heavy. But eventually, she rose her eyes to meet his. Copper against green. The sun against the forest. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. Distant. In the back of her mind, she knew. It had a cloudiness to it that had been present when she'd first joined Duskclan, all those moons ago. Before everything. Before this. But cold.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"