Holly's Short Stories

Lilacpaw couldn’t seem to focus, no matter how hard she tried.
And, although it might not seem like it, she certainly was trying.
But her mind would drift away from the present, or she would catch a scent on the breeze and she would just have to take off to chase after it.
She was hunting in ShadowClan territory one day, chasing frogs and lizards when they passed - patience was the key to success, she told herself.
If she always rushed in blindly, she’d scare away all the prey, after all.
And what use would the future best hunter in all of ShadowClan be if she scared away all the prey?
When she heard pawsteps nearby, she was too intently focused on the scent of her target to pay any attention until the steps drew nearer. As they did, she turned and ran, though on her way back to camp she saw what she had been running from - a mentor and apprentice.
She sighed, and began slowly making her way back to where she had been hunting before.
Future best hunter or not, she felt like a failure after that incident.
She hoped they hadn't seen her run away in a panic.
What use was a warrior who couldn’t tell her clanmates from something more dangerous, like a fox?
Although, she thought sadly, they are equally as intimidating.

Lilacfall lay, relaxed, in the ShadowClan camp - not far from the nursery where kits were playing. It wasn't particularly uncommon as of late, particularly since her Moonstone journey. She had returned from Highstones a changed cat, that was one thing she couldn't deny. It was kind of amazing, really, how easily a simple conversation had changed much of her outlook. Sure, she still worried constantly and a majority of her contributions to the Clan were from hunting, but she wasn't as easily startled. She socialized more, and didn't take off at the slightest sound anymore. She had thought about having kits of her own, and truth be told she was still thinking about it - one of the reasons her favorite spots to relax were all near the nursery. For the moment, though... Her family was large enough as it was. Her father had certainly made sure of that, even if quite a few of her siblings weren't with her any longer. She hoped that any kits of her own would at least earn their warrior name - she wasn't sure how she would take it if they didn't. Still, at this point in her life... She had to admit, she was content.

Swanpaw slowly sneaked out of the RiverClan camp, making her way to a small stream.
She sat for a moment, watching the fish swim by, before extending her paw and waiting for a fish to swim into it.
After a few moments, she sighed, impatient.
Patience gets you nowhere, she decided. If I’m going to honor Mama, I’ll have to be the very best warrior RiverClan has ever seen! And I’ll never get there by waiting patiently!
And in that moment, without a moment of thought to spare, she made her decision.
She would train in secret, until she was better than every warrior in all of RiverClan…
No, the best warrior in any Clan.

Leaf-fall approached gracefully - the leaves changed color, a spectacular sight. Swanpaw liked to watch them fall when she didn't have anything else to do, but her mind always drifted to her family. Her mother, who had doubtless seen this gorgeous sight before, but deserved to experience it with her kits at her side. Her brothers - Foampaw and Rushpaw. They could look down on her, she knew, but she doubted they would feel the same wonder she did when she saw the falling leaves -  that they would feel the breeze that carried them on the wind until they fell to the ground. She doubted they could walk on them and hear and feel them crinkling under their paws when they stepped just right. She was lucky, she supposed, but it didn't feel like it most of the time. She just felt lonely.

Leaf-fall came and went what felt like all too soon, as the seasons do, and leafbare took its place with bitter cold, but the grief and loneliness remained. With the first fall of snow, she wondered what her brothers would have thought of it. She left behind her dignity for once, and rolled around in it like she was a kit again - well, not exactly. Like she was with Flowerpetal and Rushpaw and Foampaw and they were all alive and happy together. She learned about the snow, and the mysterious solid water called ice. Despite the bitter cold and despite the struggles each Clan faced this time of year, leafbare held some interesting games to play and things to do. And so she played those games and did those things that leafbare had to offer her.

Slowly, she started to escape the hold her grief had on her life - she wasn't as snappy, or arrogant. Of course she was still self-confident, and she still aspired to be the best. But she socialized more, and she felt more at home in her den. Of course she still missed them. She was pretty sure by now those feelings would never go away, exactly. But she couldn't bring her family back, couldn't live their lives for them - the lives she blamed StarClan for taking too soon, though she was hesitant to admit her resentment of her ancestors. She had to live her own, and she was starting to understand that. And like the snow comes to cover the fallen leaves, her happiness begins to overshadow her sadness and anger.

Author's Note: This was an alternate ending for Swan's character arc, involving her receiving a different warrior name and never quite recovering from the loss of her family. Warning for depiction of suicide.

Swansong had finished sitting her vigil, and her first act as a true warrior of RiverClan was to go for an early morning stroll. The sun was still low in the sky, the snow freshly fallen and not yet covered in pawprints. Slowly, peacefully, she walked in an uncertain direction, enjoying the solitude.
She had once despised the loneliness she had felt for so many moons now, but with time she had come to accept it. At this point, it was all she knew - the thought of companionship was completely foreign to her now.
Somehow, without her noticing, her path had taken her to the gorge. She sat not far from the edge, caution long since tossed to the winds as she looked down at the raging rapids, admiring how they were not at all affected by the harsh leaf-bare.
In that moment, watching the rushing water from so far away, everything seemed to make sense to her. She thought that maybe she understood. Understood what, she couldn’t say, but understood nonetheless.
She had, it seemed, moved to close to the edge as she slipped, but even as she realized it she wasn’t struggling.
Instead she leapt forward, embracing her fate, and allowed gravity to take her.
The fall seemed to last an eternity.
She thought more things as she fell than there were stars in the sky, but the last thought to cross her mind before her consciousness faded was one of relief.
‘At least I won’t be alone.’

I stand in the snow
But I can’t feel the cold
Or much of anything at all

I stand in the snow
Numb to the cold
And I let myself fall

Ruby sat next to her mother, Cello.
The kit was small - maybe three or four moons old.
“Tell me about Papa,” Ruby pleaded - her mother could rarely resist her requests as it was, but she tended to avoid the topic of her father.
Cello purred. “Oh, alright, my dear. Your father was a handsome rogue, you know. His name was Copper.”
“A… Rogue?” Ruby asked, testing the word.
“Yes, a rogue. They’re cats that live in the forest, from what he said.”
“What’s a forest?”
“You see that tree, there?” Cello asked, gesturing to the tree in their garden with her tail.
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, a forest is a place that’s full of those trees.”
“Wow! And ‘rogues’ live there?”
“Yes. There are other cats that live there, too - ones that live by a code of honor.”
“A code… Of honor?”
“Mhm. They live in groups, and they don’t fight each other. Like a big family. At least, that’s what he told me.”
“...If families are supposed to stay together, where’s Papa?”
Cello gave her daughter a smile, forced though it was - the kit couldn’t tell the difference yet -  and licked her ear. “Don’t worry about him, dear.”
“I’m gonna grow up and join those forest cats,” Ruby declared, twitching her tail.
Cello laughed a little, and gathered Ruby close to her with her tail. “I’m sure you will, dear. You’ll be the best cat they ever knew.”
"You'll come too, won't you, Mama?"
"I'll be with you every pawstep of the way," she promised.

Ruby looked to her mother. "Mama?"
Just as they had not four moons earlier, they were laying in the garden as the sun faded from the sky.
"Yes, dear?" Cello asked, shifting slightly.
"Are... Are you alright? You've been acting so strangely."
"...I suppose I have, haven't I?" Cello laughed weakly.
Ruby frowned. Her mother had seemingly been getting weaker and weaker as the days passed. "Mama, please..."
"Well, I suppose if it must happen now... There's no lovelier place," the elder cat sighed.
"Mama, please, what are you talking about?" Ruby asked, snuggling closer to her mother.
"I'll be with you every pawstep of the way," Cello said softly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be with... Your father..."
Ruby could only watch, distraught, as her mother fixed her eyes on the stars, and said not another word to her.
She wasn't certain what she was witnessing until her mother's body grew cold.
Mama wasn't supposed to die... Mama was supposed to stay with her.
She sat there in silence for the rest of the night, and when dawn came she waited.
The twolegs didn't come outside that day, or the next day.
They didn't even leave out food or water.
At dawn on the third day, Ruby looked to the sky as the last of the stars were fading.
She couldn't stay here any longer.
"Mama... I'll make you proud. I'm going to do it! Just like I said!"
And with those words, she began her search.
She had no choice.

The sole surviving kit in a litter of four. Hawk, Falcon, Robin... and Raven. She learned what she could from her mother - a lovely former kittypet by the name of Belladonna - but the cruel world took her too soon, just as it had taken her sisters. Raven was quite young when she learned to improvise - she had to use what skills she did have, and knew she had. She wasn't tough, so she had to be quick. She couldn't win in a head-on fight most of the time, so she had to learn to strategize. Planning and plotting and scheming. And if she seemed mysterious and dangerous, all the better - she didn't need anyone else's help. She wasn't tough, or particularly brave. But she was strong, strong enough to survive this long in the cruel world that had taken so many lives, so many things. But it wouldn't take her. She would make sure of that.