Our Faces Growing Old [Beechfang]

OOC: After the Gathering

IC:

Bloodstar sat quietly listening to the water in the creek. What memories he had here... of his father and him hunting. Smokefeather and his kits with him afterward. For generations this place had been the perfect spot to train apprentices to hunt. It was peaceful, nostalgic... even heartbreaking. Bloodstar was alone, more alone than he had ever felt in his life. He'd always had Smokefeather to help him out of his horrid states of mind, even when he didn't want her to. Oh how often he tried to hide his problems... Now that he had no one, his heart ached and wished for a listening ear.

These are my final moments. I never imagined the end of my life would feel so.... still. So empty. He stared at the sun shimmering on the moving water. He sighed quietly and let his mind wander. For once, as memories of Smokefeather, Dustpaw, Beechpaw, Primrosepaw, and even Dawnpaw before he lost his mind and his soul flooded through him, Bloodstar shamelessly allowed tears to roll. He hung his head as a horrible weight slowly forced him to his belly.

I'm old. I'm tired. I just want this over. I will not go to the elder's den. I will not. He had told Smokefeather that he wouldn't. He told himself as an apprentice that he wouldn't. Besides, how could he go there where she used to be? He didn't think he could stand it. He couldn't handle smelling her scent or coming across a strand of silver fur. That was a fate worse than the Dark Forest. Death was preferable. He lie there and let his eyes close, listening to a large pack of dogs in the distance towards twoleg place bark and whoop at eachother.

That was it. He would enjoy the sunshine for a little while longer, then he would make the journey with Ashstorm to the moonstone. Once his lives had been taken from him, he would find those dogs. He would fight those dogs until their fangs shred his muscles from his bones and they left him there to die. It was how he was always meant to go out: Fighting. It would be a fitting end for Bloodstar... Bloodstrike.

Beechfang had left her kits in the care of one of the other queens, and had gone to take a walk. For her sanity. They were all rambunctious, all argumentative... It was like she was looking at miniatures of herself, and it wasn't just the kits' pelt or eye colors.

It was more than a little terrifying, Beechfang could admit. The kits hadn't gotten into any real trouble yet, and she feared that it was only a matter of time. She didn't care much for the code, or Starclan, or the other clans, really, but Beechfang knew that she'd made plenty of mistakes in life, whether she believed they were justifiable or not. The last thing she wanted was for her kits to go down the same path she had. She didn't want them to endure the same pain and heartache. She'd failed to be a parent to Birdsong and Shadewing all those moons ago and had foisted them off for Ravenclaw to raise (it had been for the best, she still believed that), and now that she was parenting her kits for real she felt as if she were pretending and would be found out for a fraud. Much like she had when she'd become a medicine cat apprentice. She hadn't cared much about the codes she had broken multiple times (and certainly not about choosing to pursue her own happiness rather than remain trapped in a den of misery), though she could acknowledge that some of her actions hadn't been the wisest. Some had been born of pure selfishness and bitterness. She could admit that.

There was hope for her kits to not turn out like her, she thought. They had Dovefrost, and Ashstorm. Hadn't Bloodstar chosen her for deputy because she wasn't like the rest of the family? Primroselight and Muddythorn, if they were still here-

Beechfang shook her head and sighed. How strange to realize out of all her siblings, it was just her, Ashstorm and Ravenclaw now. At least the kits would never know the hatred that Dawnhawk could inspire, or the mistakes of their grandmother that had led to so much. It had taken Beechfang a long time to admit that to herself, perhaps longer than it had Smokefeather. She was gone now, truly gone. Beechfang wished she could've asked her mother for advice, though logically she was sure it would've been something filled with self-loathing and pity; something like 'don't let me raise them, I already raised two tyrants.' Birdsong and Shadewing were better off without me too, mom. Is that how you felt? And yet, Beechfang didn't want that thought to be true, either. Her kits deserved better.

And therein lay Beechfang's own worry. Already the kits were like her; brash, impulsive, aggressive. Always bickering. Stubborn. Like their grandfather, too, she supposed. Not that she'd ever wanted to admit that she was like him, either. Now though, raising kits that were proving to be just like herself... Well, she hadn't gotten her personality from out of nowhere. Neither had Dawnhawk. And Beechfang had helped that just as much as Smokefeather had, she was no saint, hadn't Bloodstar said as much to her? She'd wanted to yell and scream at him at the time but... He hadn't been wrong.

Bloodstar... And that was another thing that worried her. Their relationship had been rocky for a long time, now. Much of that because she couldn't let things go. Foxdung, but she was trying, she had to. She supposed they needed to actually talk at some point, too. Aside from coming clean about Dovefrost, she hadn't seen much of him since the dark forest had been banished to where they belonged. Maybe he would have an idea of how to avoid those pitfalls. She could learn from her forebears' mistakes or follow in their pawsteps. She wanted to do the former, but figuring out how to was proving to be difficult.

Her paws wandered where they would, and Beechfang hardly realized she was nearing the creek until she took a step and her paw was submerged in the cool water. It startled Beechfang from her thoughts, and she shook her head with a snort. Turning, she began to follow it downstream. And then noticed her father's scent on the breeze. Were the stars laughing at her tangled thoughts? She was sure they were.

Coming around a bend in the creek, Beechfang slowed as she caught sight of Bloodstar on his belly. "Dad...?" The massive, scarred tom looked about as peaceful as her thoughts were, not that he would admit it if she asked about what was troubling him. She supposed, after everything, she had little right to, anyway.

The sound of pawsteps never stirred him. It was too light for a fox's. Beechfang's voice reached his ears and he slowly eased his eyes open. He lifted his head with a sigh and looked at her. He gave her a smile, but it was awfully weak and the look in his eyes was heavy and world weary. "Hi Beechfang." Stars, what was he going to do when she asked him what was wrong? Was he going to just tell her the truth? He really should, honestly. She out of all of the cats might understand.

"I'm afraid my presence may have scared off the prey here. Sorry." He made a movement to get up, but then decided against it. He would just lie here. If Beechfang had other things she needed to do, he would simply go back to resting. Why did his body feel so heavy? Why did his heart have to ache as much as it did?

Prey...? Riiight. Hunting. "Oh... I came out here to clear my head. Nothing productive, I'm afraid." She muttered. "Is it always terrifying to realize your kits are just like you? I'm not sure how I'm supposed to sleep at night now." Yes, clearing her head had worked out wonderfully. Maybe, she thought, a better cat who hadn't made as many mistakes would be less terrified of that outcome. But she wasn't one of those cats, and so scared she was of that potential.

She considered her father for a moment, noting how miserably haggard he looked. From his comment, he hadn't been out here hunting, and it was obvious. Moping, maybe, or brooding. Thinking, Beechfang liked to call it, she didn't brood. "You don't look like you've been hunting sooo... What's wrong?" Aside from everything, which seemed to just be a normal occurrence for Skyclan, at this point. She wasn't sure her father would tell her anything, but... He was her father. She cared, despite the many, many fights they had had in the past.