let this promise in me start (c)

All of her kits were now apprenticed. Finally, she could move out of the nursery. It was with no small amount of relief that Perchstar finally disentangled herself from the overstuffed nursery nest for the last time and began heading toward the leader's den. She certainly wouldn't miss sleeping in the nursery, that was for sure--though she had come to appreciate the warm forms of her kits snuggling near her, she would be able to do without. She had still been conducting meetings in the small hollow of the willow tree roots, but it had been... what, moons since she last slept in it? It hadn't been her resting place since before she was abducted by Twolegs on the Thunderpath. Stepping inside the den--though she had been doing so on and off ever since her return--made a shiver creep up her spine. However, it was not entirely a pleasant sensation. Her more sparse and utilitarian nest had remained untouched... as had the nest in the corner. She felt almost sick looking at it.

His nest. It had been moved in here in new-leaf... and now, new-leaf had come around again. A full year and she hadn't been able to let go of him. Pathetic. For a few moments, Perchstar simply stood there, staring at the dust-coated clump of moss. No paw had touched it for nearly a full year. She hadn't even kept it close to her to remind her of him. She'd hated him and loved him in the same breath, and only managed to keep it near due to her terror. Her fear that the moment she moved the nest, she would be acknowledging it. She would have to acknowledge that he was gone. Her throat felt dry as she looked at it, eyes locked on the corner, trying desperately to blink away the afterimage of his form. He wasn't here. He hadn't been here for four seasons.

“Perch...I love you."

Her voice was quiet. Raw. The whisper echoed off of the empty willowroot walls, feeling just as hollow as she did. But underneath that hollowness, she finally heard it. Acceptance. "...Goodbye, Ashflight."

Perchstar wrenched her eyes away from the nest at the same time that she strode forward. Two long steps brought her to the corner of the den. She gripped the wad of moss in her jaws, nearly choking on the year's worth of dust coating it. Then--gaze still fixed resolutely elsewhere--she walked out into the bright sunlight, towards the edge of camp. Towards where it was encircled by the river. With one final motion, she flung the nest out of her mouth, releasing her bite at the same time as moving her head in a tossing motion. There was an anticlimactic, gentle splash. Then the clump of memories began floating lazily downstream.

It was over. After one more agonizing moment, she left, intentionally turning her back on the retreating image of the nest in the water.

The rest of the afternoon, whenever she was free from duties, Perchstar continued cleaning out her den. Despite its occasional usage, there was more dust on the walls and leaves tracked into the floor than she'd remembered. The rock from Beetlepaw, the dried leaf from Tinypool, and the goose feathers tucked lovingly into her own nest by calico paws remained. Those were keepsakes of responsibility and friends, not an aching and pitiful hope for the return of someone long-absconded from her life. Though they caused mild twinges of grief when she moved them, caringly cleaning the dust that had settled in her absence, they also reminded her of pleasant memories. All in all, the cleaning was not physically exhausting, but it was emotionally taxing. By the time she had finished, she wanted nothing more than to collapse in her nest and go to sleep. So she did. However, once her eyes were closed, all manner of unpleasant dreams began drifting to the surface. Half-memories, half-imagined scenarios swam before her eyes, seeming just concrete enough to be real before they melted away, leaving her disoriented. A warrior ceremony for Beetlepaw, at which he gifted her a stunningly colored branch. Cloverheart emerging from the river, fur sopping wet, accusing eyes leaking river silt. Vixenstar standing above her nest, claws unsheathed, blood dripping from her claws, the stench of death seeping into the soil. A gray tom with light green eyes staring at her, smiling, mouth open to say something.

When Perchstar finally awoke again, soaked in sweat, eyes wild, she had no clue whether it had been a few minutes or an entire day. One glance outside showed that the sun had only just begun to set. She exhaled slowly and forced herself to sit up. It appeared that she would be getting no rest tonight. Perhaps she had become so accustomed to sleeping with her kits that the sudden lack of presence in the den with her had caused her nightmares to reawaken. Perhaps it was just that she had been wallowing so much in her old memories that they returned to haunt her with a vengeance. Either way... she wasn't sure what to do about it.

For now, she decided to step out of the den for a moment in order to breathe the cool evening air. A light breeze ruffled her fur when she stepped out. The setting sun cast a faint orange light on the camp, making it seem almost as if it was glowing. Her strange dreams had messed with her perception so much that when she caught sight of another cat, she was at first unsure if they were real. It took a few moments of blinking and staring to realize that the cat in front of her was, in fact, Poppyshine. Her deputy. Her apprentice. Her friend. The sight of her most trusted companion caused a quiet idea to take root in her mind. It may have been a strange idea, and certainly not one that she would have thought of if not in her sleep-addled state. However, Perchstar found herself walking forward, hoping that her fur did not look too unkempt as she hesitantly began a conversation. "Poppyshine--I have something to ask of you."

Poppyshine's voice, as always, was full of warmth and welcome as she greeted Perchstar. It soothed her recollection-raw nerves somewhat to hear the familiar tone of friendship-laden words. And of course, as usual, the deputy noticed her emotional state from slight outward cues immediately. No mask could adequately keep her out. Thankfully, Perchstar had long since given up on trying to keep anything secret from her friend. Anything except one thing... and though it caused guilt to bubble up inside her stomach, she was not ready to confess the parentage of her kits just yet. The time would come, but it was not now. For now, she nodded at Poppyshine's suggestion. "All right." It was just as well that this very personal question that she was already beginning to regret thinking of would not be spoken in front of any other prying eyes.

The way that her friend glanced with confusion towards the empty corner of the den did not escape Perchstar's notice. Of course, Poppyshine had been the first of her Clanmates to know when the nest first entered the leader's den... and now, she would be the first to discern its absence. Fitting. Thinking too hard about the moss floating down the river would cause Perchstar to second-guess herself, so she put it out of her mind for now. The leader sat for a moment, sweeping her tail over her paws in a gesture that her friend would recognize as one of uncertainty and attempted self-comfort. "I've slept alone in the leaders' den for moons," she said quietly, trying to ignore how the words echoed self-fufillingly in the empty walls of the small enclosure. "Then I was gone for a moon, and then I slept in the nursery with my kits. I thought it would feel reassuring to return to my previous state of normalcy." Light blue eyes drifted to the newly cleaned corner of the den, as Poppyshine's had before. "But just because I was used to it before doesn't mean that I enjoyed it. I mean... I thought I did. I told myself it was fine to have that space to myself. But I was really just trying to ignore how lonely it felt." Lonely. The word had haunted her since her abduction by the Twolegs. She hadn't allowed herself to think it during her entire tenure of leader, since Ashflight's absence. She'd shoved the vocabulary away as if she couldn't possibly apply it to herself. She was a leader; she was a figure of responsibility over the whole Clan. Loneliness was for those who needed companionship from others. Loneliness was for those who were loved by others, who had families and friends and relationships. She had hardly any to speak of. But after being so far removed from RiverClan... and then, after having a "family" of her own... those excuses had departed, and she was forced to realize just how lonely she had been this entire time. Occasional conversations wouldn't cut it. She had cats she could rely on. But she was lonely.

She shook her head, trying to get herself unstuck from the word. "I'm rambling. Sorry. What I mean to say is--I don't wish... I would rather not be alone anymore. And I know that you probably enjoy sleeping in the warrior's den with your Clanmates, and your kits, and all your friends. It's selfish of me to ask." Here she was dancing around the issue again. Perchstar let out a quiet huff of frustration at herself before raising her gaze, looking directly at Poppyshine. "Would you consider... moving your nest into the leader's den? I-I know that you know I mean nothing romantic by this. I simply... you are my dearest friend, and..." She couldn't hold eye contact anymore; it was too embarrassing. Her focus slipped to the floor. "You are free to decline. I will not be offended. I simply thought it might not hurt to ask."

Surely any minute, Poppyshine would be disappointed in her. Any moment now, the voice that so often rang out with tones of warmth and welcome would drop low and cold, and instead scold her for being so selfish. The voice would question why Perchstar thought this would be a good idea. But as the leader kept her eyes fixed on the furthest corner of her den, bracing herself, the voice came--and with it, the soft touch of her friend's nose on her cheek. Of course, every word was laden with soothing reassurance, almost so warm-hearted as to be too hot to bear. And it was not just acquiescence, not just acceptance. It was full-hearted agreement. Enthusiasm, even, for the idea.

Perchstar felt a quiet exhale of breath leaving her, causing her to only then notice how tense her muscles had become in her anticipation of the cold voice of her anxieties manifesting into reality. But it was not real. It never had been. The leader leaned hesitantly into Poppyshine, feeling how near she was. "...Thank you." The words did not seem adequate, but they held behind them a year's worth of gratitude. For the young, bright apprentice who had accepted her immediately as a mentor and made every dark moment full of sunshine. For the new warrior who had believed in her every word and supported her through some of the heaviest doubts she had ever carried. For the deputy who had readily received the position despite her own worries, and had pushed through them to be a helpmeet and steady rock through every trial that had followed. For the friend who had waited so patiently for her return, and refused to judge her harshly when given ample opportunity. Poppyshine had saved her life once in battle--and after that, metaphorically, a hundred more times. Perchstar would not have been anything, would not have been alive, would not have been if not for the sweet calico's love and guidance. Yes. This was love. It was not the same meaning as the kind that had broken her heart once, maybe even twice before. It was not the kind that made her feel so oddly uneasy and kept her breath from her lungs. It was the constant inner glow that led her forward--the light at the top of the water, breaking through the river's surface--the ever-present consistency that kept her legs strong and her gaze straightforward. The knowledge that despite it all, she had Poppyshine. Quietly, Perchstar vowed to herself that she would never keep anything from her dear friend again. Once they had settled in... once her mind once again began to behave... she would confess everything.

"I love you, Poppy."