Dawn's Light Burns the Fog Away [Closed,Pika]

What was she supposed to do?

The muddy floodwaters lapped hungrily at the bank, dragging bits of trees, rocks, and the occasional dead fish back into the waters it had escaped just a moment before. Trees had been nearly stripped bare of their leaves from the rain, and the river was completely clogged with them. If someone fell in, they'd have to fight through them for any single breath of air.

Fogheart sat just beyond the water's reach, motionless, thinking deeply. The morning mist lingered around this stretch of shore was thick and almost palpable, and the blind warrior could feel it condense on her pale nose. Everything was quiet. She was alone with her thoughts. 'Is Starclan punishing us?' It was because of the Dark Forest, wasn't it? They were angry that so many stayed behind out of loyalty to the dead code-breakers. She'd been one of them. She'd wanted to be as strong as the rest of them. She'd wanted it to be as if she wasn't blind. That she wasn't weak. That grasp for power was all in vain, however. The Dark Forest had fallen and all the exiled cats were back. They would've kicked her out, she knew, if she wasn't going to have kits within the next moon. But she could feel their disgust rolling off of them, and she was ashamed of herself.

She didn't talk to anyone. She was sure that Crowclaw would be her very last apprentice. Who would trust her after what she did? She was pathetic. Why hadn't they kicked her out already? To torture her? She didn't deserve to be here, the only cats she thought would maybe want her to stay were her son Smokeface, and Smokeface even had his own mate and kits now. Most of the time she avoided her clanmates anyway, spending most of her time hunting for whatever was stupid enough to approach her.

She had become something worse than useless. She was a sore, an infection that weakened the clan. Her attempts to make herself stronger for Riverclan had in fact drained the vitality from it, and had allowed Starclan to let the flood come without a sign, her loyalty was still uncertain. She decided it would be best if she let Starclan alone. They wouldn't accept her when she died, she could feel it. What she had done was unforgivable. She wished, no, wanted to remain unforgivable. She couldn't forgive herself. She did not deserve forgiveness and anyone that gave it to her was a complete fool.

Fogheart dug her claws into the pebbles, trembling with a feeling that she could not describe well enough to be understood. Grief and guilt and hatred and terror tore at her heart for room, having pushed out the confidence, strength, and bravery of her youth. She was nothing but a shell of her former self. And that was what she deserved to be, not a warrior, not a mother, not even a sister.

Ivyfall hated her, she was sure of it. And she accepted that. Who wouldn't? Her sister deserved much more than what was given to her. But here she was, being handed her kin by an overzealous Death. A better sister would comfort her during this hard time. However, the war-loving she-cat had no wisdom to give her deputy, no sugar-coated words or simple comfort. That was never her realm of expertise.

Before she knew it, the fur on her face was wet. And smelled of salt. The crunch of pebbles made her head turn sharply, and she bared her teeth. She couldn't be seen as weak. "What!"

At first, the stench has bothered her, the deputy found the scent of rotting fish mingled with runoff a combination that left her dry heaving, especially when she'd been heavy with Greypaw and Waterkit. But like the cold stones that she'd called her nest for moons, slowly she'd gotten used to the scent that lingered anytime she approached the slower moving parts of the River and little shallow ponds where the floodwater had yet to drain out. She'd learnt to embrace the variations in their territory, occasionally hunting fish that were trapped in pools and burying dead fish to avoid attracting foxes to their lands. With so much repair needing to be done, just moving felt like an arduous task, from dawn to dusk, she hunted, patrolled, repaired and mothered, there was no break for a deputy or a mother.

And whilst others may have found balancing both difficult and mind-breakingly painful to manage, personally, Ivyfall thrived on the challenge and needed it to sharpen her mind. So many deaths had followed from the flooding, several of her own kits had died in the floodwaters. At times, she found it hard to breath, memories of Oakfoot or her sweet Rosekit lingered in her mind, leaving her gasping shallowly. But that was all well hidden, after all, she wasn't the only cat to have loved and lost. Fishstar had lost most of her litter, and the only remaining kit she had was a maimed little tom. Dewpelt had lost all her kits and her grandkits, she thanked StarClan every day that Rainstorm wasn't with them anymore to see what had become of his family. And of course, her estranged sister, Fogheart, had lost so many, so quickly too. Porcupinepaw's death was a real tragedy, the tom had been dashing and proven himself to be much like his mother in her cleverness. But of course, they weren't allowed to have joy in their lives, this was the fate of mothers.

He'd died in the flood.

Sometimes, she wondered if this was her punishment for bearing Frostfall. Perhaps this was StarClan telling her that she'd messed up, and now her clan would fall due to her selfishness. That was easily her worse quality, her inability to let go of family. If she was brutally honest, the Clan in itself meant little to her. She followed Fishstar because she respected her and saw her as a mother figure. She fought for RiverClan because most of the clan were her kin or she'd raised them. Perhaps it was them telling her to accept all, even her siblings she carefully avoided. To embrace clan life and never leave anyone behind. Those were easy words for a dead cat to say. It was harder in real life.

There were so many lies between her and the whole clan.

She wasn't Ivyfall, not really. She was Featherpaw, a ThunderClan Apprentice. Her father wasn't Ashcloud either, it was Duskfall. Her mother didn't lose her accidentally, she'd been chose to be taken to ThunderClan. And finally, the biggest lie that she told everyone was that she hated everything about ThunderClan.

She hated Spottedstar, she hated the clan members. Ivyfall had hated the way that they were so self-righteous. But... But she missed it. She missed the thrill of chasing a wood-mouse, the feel of the leaf litter underneath her paws. She missed the way her life was so much simpler back then, how secure she felt in the knowledge that Whitecloud was her mother and Duskfall was her father.

So how could she be open with any of them? No one actually knew her, not even her kits.

It was a lonely existence, she reflected, watching the muddy waters dimly reflect water off it's surface. Looking wistful, she walked along the bank till she accidentally happened upon of the subjects of her internal woes.

"Fogheart." Ivyfall began, snapped out of her thoughts. Her nose wrinkled when she smelt the salt of her tears and noted how melancholy she looked. Just how long had it been since they'd actually talked properly? Was it back when they were both warriors? Or perhaps when they were apprentices? She couldn't remember. "I- I'm sorry for your loses in the past few moons. StarClan, they've been harsh."

The warrior's tail lashed for a moment before settling down. She turned her head to face forward again, laying her ears flat. It was her sister. The cat who she'd leaned on for the first few moons of her kit's lives because she was literally unable to even name them according to tradition. Fogheart couldn't figure out whether she wanted to talk to Ivyfall or not. She had so much to say, but she didn't know what to say.

She furrowed her brow listening to her sister. Was she actually... pitying her? That was odd. Hopefully she was just mistaken. "Please, stop." Her shoulders tensed instinctively and she pulled her legs closer to her body. 'Please, go away.' Her back trembled slightly from how tense her muscles were. A wave of emotion washed over her like the flood, filled with its own dangers. She had to keep it from overflowing.

The warrior got to her paws a little too quickly, causing a loud scattering in the pebbles she was laying on. Her claws dug between them, stuck out so forcefully that her muscles twitched. "Just stop!" Her thin, wispy fur was beginning to rise, blurring her outline. She wasn't angry. She didn't even know what this was. "Please. I deserved this," she said softly, barely audible, "I deserved all of this." Her clouded blue eyes continued to stare straight ahead. Yes, Starclan was punishing her for a reason. But why would they take Ivyfall's kits as well as her own? She couldn't understand it. Starclan was cruel. How could she have pledged her allegiance to them at her warrior ceremony? It seemed so long ago. Back then she thought she'd live fast and die young, fighting for Riverclan. Not once had she anticipated the events that followed. Not the Dark Forest, not having kits, and definitely not this.