Holding On [Bubblebeam]

Weak sunlight broke through the clouds as Wolfblossom padded into camp, paws heavy on the cold earth. The days following the battle's aftermath had been difficult, and while she was trying desperately to pull herself together, the clan was still depending on her. Silently, the deputy dropped a squirrel onto the fresh-kill pile and turned, dull blue eyes surveying camp. Warriors came and went, a few lingered near the camp's edges. All lives that were in her paws.

A familiar gray pelt stood out against the leafbare trees, and Wolfblossom stepped forward. She had caught sight of her when the warriors had returned to camp from the battle, had caught sight of the way she'd tried to hide. Guilt and grief and conflict writhed in her gut at the memory.

"Bubblebeam..." The deputy rasped, dipping her head, "I'm sorry, kitten... Are you alright?" Even as the question left her the deputy cursed herself silently. The answer was obvious... For all of them, wasn't it?

Another morning, but so different from all the other mornings. Quietly, Bubblebeam had hoped that once the war was finally over, the dark cloud of depression and anger and strangeness would dissipate from over SkyClan camp, and things would go back to normal. But it was becoming increasingly evident that "normal" wasn't ever coming back. She was never going to be as happy and innocent as she'd been during her kithood, with her siblings who'd been so carefree, and her father... her father. Blood-red fangs, snarling words, yowling at his own Clanmates in camp. Recalling it, as little as she wanted to, always sent a shiver into her thick fur like the leaf-bare wind was targeting her specifically. Stars. She hated this. She hated everything about it. Why couldn't it all just be over? Why do we have to lose so much? And why is everyone holding onto the pain, letting it hurt them over and over again, in hopes of making others feel it too? She hated war. She hated violence. She hated SkyClan. No--no she didn't, did she? Did she? How dare she even think that?

She hadn't even managed to wrap her head around Great-Aunt Bird being... dead. The thought sandbagged her again. Vacant-eyed, she had been sitting at the side of camp's entrance for who knew how long. A voice finally roused her from her spiraling thoughts.

Gramma Wolfblossom. Bubblebeam raised her head hurriedly, taking in her grandmother. Of course she would be hurting far more, hurting far worse. It seemed odd to see such naked pain on the normally strong-willed deputy's face. She'd never known anyone more determined than the pair of them, Birdstar and Wolfblossom. Or... would it be Wolfstar, now? The thought felt so foreign that she rejected it immediately. "...Hey, Gramma," she managed to whisper, forcing words past her dry tongue. Her insides curdled at the realization that for her grandmother, her father, all her family members, she was always just a weakling. She always had to be something to comfort. A kitten. And she wanted the innocence of kithood back--but she was supposed to be a warrior! Strong and independent and willing to protect and defend. But she wasn't. She wasn't that and she never had been, and she knew they would hate her if they ever found out. Bubblebeam swallowed, feeling the scratchiness of her throat. Such a simple question... but such a hard one to answer. "Not really. But no one is, are we? None of us are. I wish we could just... forget about everything. Just pretend it didn't happen and go back to being happy. I don't know how long it's been since camp felt like..." Home. She couldn't bear to finish the sentence, so she abandoned it and started a new one. "That's not a helpful answer, though, I know. I should be asking what you need help with, right? I know you're... busy." She would not cry, not again. Not like last time. This was just like last time, the last time they talked just the two of them, except how had things only gotten worse?

Bubblebeam was quick to turn toward her, and Wolfblossom stepped forward, gently brushing against her granddaughter's pelt with her own. Her answer to the question was one she sympathized deeply with, as much as it hurt to see Bubblebeam in such a similar state. "I understand the feeling." She said softly, "Things haven't been kind or easy lately." And still, Bubblebeam was trying to push through and think logically, to be the one to hold it together. For one so young, she understood it too. Wolfblossom wished that she didn't have to, that she could take that unfortunate understanding away from her grandkits. Bubblebeam had had to grow up fast, hit by the harsh realities of violence and illness and strife...

"It is alright to be vulnerable sometimes. To not immediately jump to what you believe others expect when they ask how you are holding up." The deputy mewed gently, "That's... Well, that's my responsibility. Not yours." She had seen the fear on Bubblebeam's face in the aftermath of that battle, the same fear that she had tried to bury in the face of her clanmates' anguish.

"Things have been scary lately, haven't they? It's okay to acknowledge that. You don't have to hide it, nor should you. Even the strongest warriors experience that, Bubblebeam."

Always needing to be comforted... yet never quite receiving comfort. It was a tiring place to be stuck, between abject depression and the contentment she knew she was capable of feeling, and yet not quite able to reach the depths or highs of either. Bubblebeam felt the way her heart clenched up, as if refusing to bear any more of the anguish battering her from all sides. Wolfblossom was trying to help, she knew. And yet... for some reason, the gentle words of compassion only felt worse. She dropped her eyes, staring down at the ground beneath her feet as if wishing it would open up and swallow her forever. Then she wouldn't have to find a way to sort through all these conflicting feelings. "But what good does acknowledging it do, if nothing ever changes?" she asked, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "What does it help if I say that I hate war, that I hate the fact we had to fight at all? That I think we should just leave this all behind us and look for peace when I know my Clanmates--even my father--don't feel the same? Nothing's going to change. Feeling it doesn't help, and talking about it doesn't help either."

She shouldn't be snapping like this; she shouldn't be taking it out on her grandmother. Wolfblossom felt worse than everyone else, losing the last sister she had. Bubblebeam knew this and yet the words would not cease. "Even the strongest warriors... What is strength, then? If it's the ability to fight well or hunt well, then I don't have it. If it's the ability to throw yourself into any stars-forsaken battle just because your leader says you should, then I don't have it." Her voice built into a loud crescendo, volume growing, but not in anger--in desperation. As if a raging waterfall had been holed up behind a strong wall that had been broken through. "If it's the ability to take any amount of sadness and just keep it all holed up inside because talking about it never helps and you feel awful for feeling awful, and so it just compounds and compounds in on you until you die but for some reason you keep waking up anyway, then--fine. I guess I'm a warrior! But I'm not sure how much longer I can take being a warrior like this, anymore... if that's what it means." Her tail curled tighter around her paws. She kept her eyes on the ground, unable to look up at her grandmother. At the deputy... no, the leader of SkyClan. Saying things like this, saying the dark thoughts that swirled around in her mind, didn't help at all. She'd rather pretend they didn't exist. Vulnerability was useless if it just made her and everyone around her feel worse. If it weren't for the strange way that her lungs were heaving, her paws trembling, she would get up and run out of camp and climb the tallest tree she could find and just stare at the sky. That, more than anything, would help. But that wouldn't be very warrior-like, and Wolfblossom deserved better. She couldn't back out of the interaction. So, she fought back the tide of bile-tasting words trying to bubble back up and instead found a simple replacement. "...I'm sorry."

Finally, Bubblebeam seemed to snap, in her own way. Not violently, as some cats might have, but the frustration in her words made Wolfblossom's chest hurt. The deputy fell silent, listening. Turning her head, she began to groom the fur on top of her granddaughter's head if she'd let her. She... Wasn't sure how to respond, in truth, and for a few long moments after Bubblebeam had fallen quiet, so too was Wolfblossom.

"You believe you aren't skilled at hunting... But you do hunt. You bring back prey for the clan. Why is that, Bubblebeam?" The deputy spoke, "You believe you aren't the best at fighting, but you would still defend the territory and those who need defending. Mistflower and Honeydew, as well. Why?" Blue eyes were searching, thoughtful as she met her granddaughter's eyes. "Do you think strength is solely the physical, or just the ability to put aside your feelings? Is being a warrior only about strength?" Wolfblossom shook her head, in disagreement with her own question.

"You were honored for your kindness at your warrior ceremony." Her optimism too, though perhaps that wasn't the best trait to mention when she was feeling so down. "There is more to being a warrior than physical or mental strength. And you don't have to apologize to me for stating how you feel."

"I... Don't like the pelts some of our clanmates have worn recently, because of all of this. Things won't stay this way. I intend to bring Skyclan peace if it can be achieved... Stars know that feels impossible, at times. But without someone pushing for it, without someone trying, it would be impossible in truth."

Bubblebeam hated herself. She hated sitting here, hated the sour sensation at the back of her throat, hated the soft motherly sensation of Wolfblossom's tongue on her head, hated the desperately snapping words she'd said and the fact that she wanted to say more. Talking about this hadn't even helped. It never helped. It never made anything go away, it just made other cats feel bad for her. She didn't want to be pitied, she wanted to be happy. Even pitying herself just made it worse. Why'd she even answered honestly? She could have said she was fine. Then this whole interaction wouldn't have happened. She needed to start lying more. Wolfblossom was trying to help, she knew, but... the fact that her grandmother had to stop and try to bolster up her pathetic grandkit instead of doing important things or taking care of what actually needed to be done stung. The deputy--the leader--needed the comfort more. She'd lost her sister and mother. Bubblebeam hadn't lost anyone, not really; she'd liked Great-Aunt Bird, but they hadn't been that close. Her chest ached. She drew in on herself more, feeling her muscles tighten in response to her desire to disappear. The repetitive sensation of her grandmother grooming the top of her head felt like heavy, skull-splitting pressure.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter if she tried. She would never want to do it--she would spend her whole life forcing herself out of her nest in the morning for some semblance of the life that everyone else seemed to live effortlessly.

But what was the point in saying that? She would only make Wolfblossom feel worse.

Stop feeling bad. You're not helping anything. Just pretend it helps.

Start lying.

Though Bubblebeam's ears remained half-pinned back, she deliberately loosed her tail from around her paws, and allowed her shoulders to rest from their hunched position. Slowly, she stepped back--away from the comforting gesture--and raised her head. Pale green eyes met Wolfblossom's gaze. A small smile crept across her face. "That's fair... I guess you're right." Her grandmother mentioned trying to achieve peace--it ought to have made the hemophobic warrior happy. Bubblebeam tried to imagine what it would be like if these words somehow managed to soothe the hollow pit caving in her soul. Peace. Everything will be all right. Just pretend. If she tried hard enough, she could almost wish the emptiness from her eyes. "If anyone can do it, it's you. It's hard. Everyone's scared... I'm scared. But I think it will be all right." The lie fell with shocking ease from her tongue, though it felt sharp enough to cut her mouth on the way out. Things would never be all right again, not at this rate. But she repeated it softly, as if saying it would make it true. "...I'll be all right."

Something about Bubblebeam's movement away from her was almost forced, and as her granddaughter's eyes met Wolfblossom's, she could see the lie within her words. She didn't... She didn't know what to say that could possibly offer reassurance.

"Yes... We're all running scared, I think." She murmured quietly, "You'll pull through. You're strong." She wondered which of them was thinking that if they repeated it enough it would become true. Perhaps they both were.

"Go get some rest before the next set of patrols, Bubblebeam." Wolfblossom mewed gently.