Dawnfeather was finally free.
Not that she didn’t enjoy the chance to see her daughter every day, but hers was a soul tied to the skies, sworn to soar among branches and leaves, to leap and hang silhouetted against the sun with naught but the breeze beneath her paws. Her long illness had sapped the strength from her limbs, but now that her recovery was nearly complete and she’d finally been cleared to slowly return to her duties, she was more than eager to spend time with the cats she’d barely been able to see over the past moons.
Foxtrot- what a wonderful name, that, one that fit him so perfectly- was certainly one of those cats. He’d stayed by her side as much as he could, and that she appreciated. It however, certainly had been far too long since she’d groomed down his pelt, but for just today, she’d let it slide.
“I doubt Smokepetal would let that happen,” Dawnfeather mewed with a smile, resting her chin on her son’s head. “Let’s fix up my nest, dear, shall we?”
It had been long enough that hers was reclaimed by somecat or other, and a new one would have to be made. Near Foxtrot and Mistflower, she rather thought. Once, when she was younger, she’d slept curled up next to her mother, squeezed between her two best friends, and she’d loved it. Some things had changed, but others never did.
