Life After Her (closed solo)

Spottedstar and Murkpelt’s relationship had come to an end the night before. It was a short conversation, frankly spoken and without much emotion expressed. Spottedstar admitted he didn’t love her anymore. Murkpelt said that she knew, and that she had known for several moons now. Something about how he wouldn’t look at her. Something about how he’d been as cold as the ice that formed over the Moonlit Creek. He knew it was because his heart belonged to another, but she didn’t press him for an explanation. She merely meowed that she was grateful for what they’d had in the past and their wonderful children they’d reared together. It was altogether heartbreaking, and it disgusted Spottedstar that he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of remorse or pain. If anything, he felt a little more free, although it didn’t mean that he felt better, and his words from a past gathering about how meaningless love was rang in his ears once more. He hadn’t meant it. It was just a reaction to the wound love had left inside him. The pair of ex-mates had walked silently back to camp, and Murkpelt made a new nest for herself with the warriors.

It was mornings like this where Spottedstar wanted to push everyone else out, curl up in his den and avoid his responsibilities like he used to when he was a simple warrior with simple problems. He had grown tired of being the bigger cat and living by a standard that was somehow higher for him than it was for other cats. Thornstar and Torrentstar’s recent scandal informed Spottedstar of what could happen if he failed. But he hadn’t failed. Spottedstar felt frustration building up in his chest. He stood in his moss nest, which was downy with robin feathers and stretched a long, deep stretch that resulted in a series of pops along his spine. He sighed, an exhaled mixture of satisfaction and misery, and stepped from his empty stone den into the open camp. Dawn was just budding in the distance; the sky above still held the faint glimmer of stars among deep purple tinged with rosy pink streaks. The morning air was cold and dry. The breath billowed visibly from Spottedstar’s open mouth.

Warriors and apprentices were called out for the dawn patrol as he side-stepped the small group on his way out of camp. The leader nodded wordlessly to the camp guard. It was part of his daily routine to flee camp on his own, but where he wandered changed from day to day depending on how the wind blew or where the birdsong floated from. Perhaps this morning he would bring fresh feathers for Tinylegs’ nest, or maybe he would spot a plant he recognized and bring it to Sagelight. Spottedstar ambled through the tall pine trees, rubbing occasionally against the distinctive white bark of an aspen and leaving muddy pawprints in the slushy snow. The birds chattered above him, silencing when he drew near. The leader found that he didn’t have the energy to hunt them and was content to let them sing without consequence.

His kits likely knew of the rift between himself and their mother. What would he say? Did he even have to say anything? They were all old enough to understand relationships, and the split hadn’t even been messy. Spottedstar would always be their father and Murkpelt their mother. Family bonds were not easily broken, even if he had wished so when he watched his mother agonize for moons over Elmcloud’s ill-fated litter of deserters.

’Love is so fickle and meaningless. It can’t be why we live.’

The ginger tom found himself at the bank of the Moonlight Creek, partially frozen over. The rushing water the moved beneath frozen patches and made a pleasant sound that soothed the rage within him; the memories of one of the recent gatherings had flooded back to him, bringing the words he’d spoken in anger back to his mind. ”Love is meaningless.” He murmured, testing the words in his mouth and in his ears. He didn’t know if he really believed it. He only wanted to understand why he had reacted so explosively to Finchstar’s suggestion of the purpose of life. Well, of course Spottedstar knew why – he knew very intimately the hole left in his heart by… by a mistake he made previously. The unsettled tom stared deeply into the waters at his feet. It had been a while since that mistake, and yet he found himself regretting every moment of that day and every day after it. Nothing brought joy to the SkyClan leader anymore. Prey lost its flavor, sleep failed to replenish his strength, and the company of his friends and family became grating on his fragile nerves. Training his apprentice felt like a waste, even if she was a promising future warrior with a strong sense of duty. Anyone else could teach her how to be a warrior, and they’d probably do a better job, too. Gatherings were as hellish as always, though, and he supposed he should be grateful for that one familiar feeling. It seemed he could only feel annoyance these days – annoyance and fatigue.

Spottedstar finally focused his eyes, blinking until he recognized the figure in the water. His dull amber eyes were tired. His jaw was clenched, mouth twisted in a permanent frown and delicately traced by the pink scar Thornstar had left him with. The shreds of his left ear twitched as he traced the outline of where the rest of it should have been.

”But I didn’t do anything wrong.” Spottedstar meowed, brows furrowing as he met his own gaze. ”I haven’t. I’ve done only what’s expected of me. So why aren’t you helping me like you’re supposed to?” His scarred muzzle lifted until he was looking at the sky, now a soft pinky-orange color. The stars had disappeared, but he knew they were still there. They were always there. The stars were just hiding from him. He was silent for a few heartbeats but maintained his empty gaze. ”I’ve been asking for help for moons, but all I’ve gotten is some stupid prophecy about outsiders. We don’t even have outsiders in SkyClan, we have deserters who abandon us because you aren’t good enough to protect us. I’m not good enough.”

His head dropped down again, and he glanced at the tree line around him to make certain he was still alone. Spottedstar grimaced and then stepped into the creek, driven by impulse. At least he could feel the cold. It swirled around his paws and ran up his limbs and down his spine in short shivers. His long, thick tail hovered just above the water’s surface. Bending to lap the water, Spottedstar closed his eyes and let the cold feeling fill up his insides.

’…I hate that I can't compare to them, and I hate myself!'

Another painful reminder of his own words. He opened his eyes again and found that he was looking directly into his own face in the creek. What was he doing? Why was he leader of SkyClan? Tinylegs had made yet another mistake in picking him to replace Mistyrain. Flowerthorn was right to be so angry in the beginning. ’I don’t know if I hate you, but I do know that I don’t like you. I don’t like what you’ve done. I don’t like who you’ve become, Spottedstar. Hm… Spot. Isn’t that what she called you? Spot. It doesn’t sound right.’ He blinked a few times. If he tilted his head at just the right angle, he could almost see Sagelight in his reflection. Their build was the same, their faces similar in shape and eyes like mirrors but with different colors. Well… it was hard to look at Sagelight and think I don’t like you. He was offended at his own words on his brother’s behalf.

Spottedstar recalled the last gathering, still looking down into his reflection. He’d announced his daughter as the medicine cat apprentice and had lowered his eyes to below the Great Rock to behold her there, in her new rightful place. The tom had felt such a flush of pride and tender affection that he thought he might have swooned right off the stone. Sagelight stood right at her side, and he felt the same way when he thought of his brother. His brother was a warrior – perhaps not literally, but metaphorically, as he had gone through quite a bit of pain and misery himself. Mintwhisker’s betrayal, a swipe of claws at his face. His mentor fled the clan without even saying anything. Sagelight watched Firflower suffering, too. It seemed the medicine cat had been through so much as well. And yet…

And Wolfcall. It seemed that when Spottedstar looked down at Wolfcall in the deputy’s place that night, the same pride washed over his weary bones with new energy. For moons now, Spottedstar had only been thinking of himself and the pain inside, opening old wounds with memories of bitter words. But in this moment, every tilt of his head brought to mind the features of another family member: his brother when he looked this way, his eldest son when he looked that way, and even his mother every now and then. Honeypaw’s soft, short coat and gentle sloping shoulders reminded him more of Firflower, but the resemblance was still there. And Deerfrost and Juniperpaw’s heavy square frames were easily visible in Spottedstar’s stature. Wolfcall had taken after Murkpelt in his lithe build, but his amber eyes reflected the leader’s own. Spottedstar’s glare softened into a gentle expression of tenderness, and for a few heartbeats, it seemed absurd to look into his reflection on the water’s surface and hate what he saw. He was, in some odd way, an amalgamation of those dearest to him.

And with that simple thought, that he was more than himself, he realized that he had an abundance of cats that were dear to him – dare he even think it – that he loved with a fervent fire that warmed his fur despite the bitter cold of the creek water which had begun to send shivers throughout his body.

The sun was reaching over the tips of the trees in the clear blue sky above. Spottedstar had stood completely still in the water for a very, very long time without even knowing that time was passing. His gaze was absent and unseeing. Birds squawked and chattered around him, but he did not hear their conversations. He only heard his own voice echoing in his ears.

’Some things can’t be fixed, and nothing can be undone. We should try to be better than we used to be.’

Somehow, it felt like it didn’t apply to him. Like the SkyClan leader alone was exempt from grace or second tries. But he’d said the words himself to someone who thought their past sins could never be forgiven. He had said them in their defense and in his own defense by proxy. As Spottedstar looked back down at his face, recognizing others in himself, he wondered if he could possibly have a second try. A new start. A chance to be… something better. What if it started with himself? A decision to be better instead of a wounded longing for better circumstances? In the depths of his heart, the spotted tomcat knew that his deep pain would not go away easily. It might not even go away at all, he considered, drawing a forepaw over the water’s surface and sending ripples through his image. Could he live with himself, knowing that he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable for one moment and been hurt because of it?

The resolution was clear. Don’t be vulnerable again. ”Because I can’t afford to be weak when I have to look out for SkyClan. I have to be strong… I have to be strong no matter what.” Spottedstar finally said aloud, speaking for the first time in several hours. He still stood paw-deep in the Moonlight Creek, shivering until feeling in his paws had been lost. ”I can’t promise that I’ll be better. Or that things will ever change. But I can pretend. And if I don’t try, then I know things will never change at all. I’ve waited on others to fix things for too long. It’s time to stop letting someone else control me. But I won’t…” He lifted his eyes, tracing the tops of the pine forest and watching the birds lift off from thin branches, singing praises to the open sky. ”…forget her.”

He willed his numb paws to move, to carry him from the icy waters. It stung more than he had anticipated, and he realized he probably made a mistake. Cold water often made cats sick. Well, sickness was a fair excuse to see Sagelight more. And maybe he could watch Honeypaw as she learned her new role. A small grin graced his muzzle. It was the first time he considered a dumb action to have been a good move, and he was amused at his own muddled thoughts. Spottedstar sighed and then realized a great tension had been released from his shoulders; they ached fiercely as though he’d strained his muscles. Or perhaps it was from stiffly standing in the same position for half of a day. ”Ah… that’s not good at all.” He mumbled softly, speaking gently to himself for the first time in a very long time. ”You need rest, Spot. You’ve been careless. And maybe a squirrel for your belly…”

He walked slowly on his numb paws, making his way back to camp with a serenity that he hadn’t experienced since warriorhood. Things were not better. But he was not looking at himself anymore; he was examining the bare branches of the trees that stretched over him like a protective shield.