...the more i say i owe my mother an apology (c)

Cindersky was many things. She was quiet, she was kind, she was fearful. She was a warrior, though sometimes she thought otherwise. And she was a mother, in all but name. She liked to think she was selfless, break a piece off of herself and give to another. She was patient. The one thing she was not, was brave. She had seen others charge headlong into things that surely could have killed them without so much as a quiver in their paw. She had seen them die with a smile on their face. She was not that. She still lay awake at times remembering things that left her breathless, and even now, she was not brave. She could feel her legs threatening to buckle, the tips of her pelt quivering in tandem with the trembling of her body. Ever her breath, though she focused on keeping it steady, shook. She did not want to consider how her voice would sound.

Cindersky had done many things. She did not regret them. She did not regret throwing herself into the jaws of a wolf, and she did not regret tearing Larkspring from his nest to go on a walk that truly did change everything. She did not regret stepping out, while still in the throes of illness, to meet the dual-coloured eyes of a young kitten that gave her cause to keep going as dreadful as the world seemed. She did not regret accompanying RiverClan to that battle, as much as she may think she did. What would have happened if she did not go? She did not want to consider it. Everyone lost in that fight. She lost the least. What she did regret, however, was how she spoke to Perchstar. She meant many of her words, that she did not truly know the reason for the fight when she went. She truly believed that Littlesplash's youth was torn from him. She did believe it was too hasty, no clan had recovered. She did not know if Perchstar could have done more. Maybe she couldn't. But she did regret how she let it all come hurtling out. She did regret the way her once-mentor looked at her, the agony in her tone though she could hear her trying to keep it at bay. She did the one thing Cindersky could not in that moment. Perchstar did a lot that Cindersky never could. Perhaps that was why Perchstar was a leader, and Cindersky was not.

She regretted not doing this sooner, but Cindersky was not brave. The gray and white shape, every time she saw it floating around the camp like a lost soul pretending to be found, it ached her and set a cold weight to her stomach. She felt it even now, the icy claws begging her to turn around again and continue to pretend like nothing had happened. But that was one of the reasons she had gotten angry at Perchstar in the first place, curse the word. She would not be a hypocrite. Not to someone who truly deserved a better hand than what fate dealt her. When she reached her side, it felt different. Like their first outing into the forest, a scary and terrifying place with someone she looked up to as a mere legend, a figure, rather than who she had come to know her as. She licked her lips.

"I want to go fishing with you," Her voice did shake as much as her breath did. But it was easier to speak, as small as she sounded, once she had started. "Please."

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Surprise coated her face, a soft slacking of her jaw that Perchstar had agreed so calmly. It stung, all the same. Devoid of anything. She thought that was worse than if Perchstar had turned and shouted a firm no. She would know where she stood, and now she wasn't certain. It was only when Perchstar was a couple of paces away that she realised she had stood frozen, and with a caught breath she hurried to catch up. She kept herself just behind her leader, like before. Matching her footsteps like she used to, like a loyal shadow, but this time the shadow was stretched and blended with another.

It truly did remind her of before. The fear was different. The first time, as a 'paw, she was afraid of making a bad impression. Afraid of disappointment, afraid of not meeting expectations. She had already done that now with her outburst, and now the fear was that this tension would last forever. And she didn't want that. She wanted to go back to before. She couldn't, such was the thing with change-- It would pretend to be similar, a mimicry of what was to the best of its abilities, but never the same.

The weather was the same. Cold but not quite, less of a bite than leaf-fall had as they crept closer into the warmer seasons. The scent was the same, a humid petrichor and damp grasses and moss. The sound was the same. A free-flowing river with the burden of ice lifted from it. All that was missing was the question that Cinderpaw had asked, and Perchstar had answered with; "No need to worry.", and she found herself clinging on to that voice. Calmer, friendlier. Not absent.

She could taste the air beginning to change the closer they got to the river. Moister, more humid. Lighter. Her paws felt heavier, and her mouth felt dryer. Her ears flattened and as much as she searched for words there was very little that had any weight or any sort of eloquence to them, to say what she wanted to say. The gray and white shape ahead of her seemed looming, though her energy was smaller now than she ever remembered. Diminutive. The gap felt hard to close.

"Perchstar," The name came out before she could stop herself, any sort of rehearsal or script being forgotten and she felt like a kit again. Even then, as small and foolish as she was when they first went hunting and encountered the goose, she seemed to know exactly what she wanted to say. "I... I'm sorry. I-..."

She couldn't leave it at that, but even keeping her eyes on her once-mentor like she deserved was hard. She could feel her heart in her throat, the constricting tightness as her own body and fright kept her from doing what she wanted to do. What she knew she had to do. "I'm sorry, for saying all of that to you. I.. I was scared. Confused, and I didn't know how to handle it-- I.. I still don't, but I know it was wrong to say it all like that to you. Try to blame you for it. It was wrong, and... I..." That sounded terrible, she thought. Like a cobweb spread too thin over a wound. But it was a start, at least.

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