Don't Stop Dancing [closed]

It wasn't weariness that weighed heavily on Coyotegrin, but a blanket of depression from failure after failure. The eldest in the clan, with none of the glory or legacy she had dreamed of, schemed for, and worked on. It was a wasted life, in her eyes. No more than a copy of every other cat who had walked these moors. She was supposed to be more.

To be honest, Coyotegrin was not sure where she had gotten these pressures from. It was all self-imposed, but it had been her core being since she was a kit. It wasn't just something she could let go. Dead mates. Dead kits. Lying mates. Missing kits. No friendships... Her fur was raised at the thought of who she was and who she is now. Disgusting.

Her paws wandered camp when a tawny pelt caught her eye. The warrior had been excited to see Brackenwing again, if not for the fact she brought Whisperear, her first adopted child. When they returned, she had been friendly. Since they've taken up the elder's den, Coyotegrin had not been unfriendly but the awkwardness and shame had been too much so she avoided the molly when she could.

No more. Brackenwing was her last living friend. Before she could change her mind, her paws carried her towards the now elder. "Brackenwing?" she questioned weakly, looking towards a quiet spot away from the den. "Care to talk?"

Of the few cats that approached her, Coyotegrin was both a surprise and... Not exactly a surprise. The calico she had left the clans on bad terms with had been a bit friendlier since her return to the clan, and without the specter of a failed leader hanging around camp, after having told her own kits that she would attempt to reintegrate into the clan... Brackenwing found herself wary. Wary, but not hostile. Not as things had once been, anyways.

Still, the awkwardness that hung between the pair was noticeable. They had been friends once, good friends. And the bitterest of... Enemies? Rivals? Brackenwing wasn't quite sure what to call it, really. And now... Now Brackenwing wasn't sure either. But she didn't hate Coyotegrin. Whatever their relationship had settled into, it wasn't that.

"Sure, Coyotegrin." The elder settled in the spot Coyotegrin had indicated. Far enough that their conversation wouldn't wake Whisperear, sleeping in the den. "What brings you to me?" She wondered perhaps, if the warrior had found herself just as contemplative of the past as Brackenwing had become.

Coyotegrin walked quietly to the spot and settled down, a little farther away than normal in a conversation. She felt small, not just in size, and her body language indicated that. Finally, she took a deep breath.

"My entire life, I have lost and lost. My parents. I witnessed my sister's death as an apprentice. My soulmate. My kits. My next mate lied and lied and is gone. More kits died or disappeared. My tunnels collapsed twice. I have very little left anymore." Her eyes scanned up from the ground to meet Brackenwing's.

"I don't want to fight anymore. I want my old friend back. You know I have always been a loudmouth, but when I was with Shrike, I know I was worse." Her green eyes were saddened at the thought. "I made many mistakes, attempting to prove myself under the expectation imposed on me so long. I should never have started down the path with Shrike, except for that it brought me my kits. Did you know I was supposed to be Deputy - I was promised and trained to be so? But last minute, Shrike changed his mind. Without telling me. That failure has swallowed me whole since. I have yet to recover." She looked across the camp, Tigerstar and Rapidfire across the clearing. Turning her attention back to Brackenwing, she continued.

"My whole life I have told myself to keep going. Without the clan, I was nothing. But they will never understand me. My lovers will leave me, or try to change me. But the whole of the clan? You be good to them, and they will be good to you. The most important thing was that I had to give the people what they want. Even if it killed me. Even if it emptied me out until there was nothing left to empty. And no matter how much it hurts, you don't stop dancing. And you don't stop smiling. And you give those cats what they want." (*) She said bitterly, ending with a sigh.

"All of that to say is- I was wrong. And I'm lonely. And I miss you. And I want my friend back." Her gaze traveled to the elder's den. She couldn't retire if this went wrong.



(*) Line credit to Bojack Horseman (18+ show)

"I'm sorry." Brackenwing offered simply. There wasn't much she could really say to that, losing kits and mates was a terrible thing. Brackenwing had been an awkward parent at best, but Lynxpaw's death had still hurt her just as the deaths of Coyotegrin's kits must have hurt. And to lose so many cats close to her, in the way that she had... Brackenwing was not surprised that those losses were dwelled on. Not at all. She would have done the same.

The tunnels... She had wanted to take part in that once. Injuries had always kept her away from them. "I wish we could have done more with the tunnels." As terrifying as they could be, they had been an asset. One whose existence Shadowclan had been gifted knowledge of. But Nightstar - or Nightstalker rather - was not someone who would have known what to do with them if Coyotegrin had smacked him upside the head with it. Neither, the elder thought, was Shrikestorm. Not that it mattered, if the moors themselves refused to support the tunnels.

"Shrikestorm..." A soft snort escaped Brackenwing, "He wasn't good for a lot of cats. Least of all you. He's gone though, the clan has changed. Or I like to believe it has. I don't know many cats here now, honestly." A shrug, "I was surprised when he chose Smallstar, even if the old furball was my mentor. I'll just leave it at that." She had liked Smallbean, but... He was gone too. And with Shrikestorm as her leader, Brackenwing wasn't so sure that Coyotegrin would have made a good choice, if for different reasons. But those she would keep to herself. It seemed the smaller calico was trying, and if she was than so would Brackenwing.

"Leaving when I did felt easy, at the time. It felt like all the cats I knew were dead or strangers wearing their faces." Brackenwing shifted slightly, gazing at Coyotegrin, "We aren't the cats we were back then. I... You've been... different, since we came home. But it started when our beloved idiots were causing trouble at the gatherings, I think. And, y'know." The border skirmish, the aftermath. The last gathering Brackenwing had attended. Batsong, Shrikestorm... Both of them. Both fools, both gone. She had watched the best of intentions and a desire for vengeance and foolish, stubborn pride had torn them apart. Coyotegrin had realized it too, Brackenwing was pretty sure.

"I'm tired of the fighting, too. I think... hope... we've both grown past it."