Behind the Gaze [Closed]

Mottleheart gazed off at the horizon with cold eyes, shifting with the slightest bit of pain as he watched the sun paint the sky in a glorious hue of crimson as the day started. But there was little joy for the healing warrior, his back leg and chest now bearing new scars after his fight with Rockthorn. It had been a slow recovery and he knew he was lucky to survive his second brush with death...His eyes narrowed as his body tensed, wrapping his tail around his paws as he kneed the ground beneath him. He had barely spoken to any of his Clanmates during his recovery, having preferred to stick to himself and brew in his own thoughts. He would entertain and speak to those who visited such as his daughter but after that morning where he awoke to news of Rockthorn's death at Ashstar's paws...He wasn't sure how to feel. And perhaps that was for the best. He was a changed cat to be sure as he ran the conclusion he had come up with sunrises ago through his head once more.

Emotions were dangerous.

He allowed them to get the better of him when he attacked Rockthorn nearly unprovoked. It was a lesson he had forgotten over time...And looked at where it had gotten him. Being blind by his own emotions had nearly cost his friendship with Rockthorn and Brindlewhisker when he had that small fleeting romance with Duskcloud those moons ago and now was almost led to his death. There was no denying that Mottleheart’s emotions would be the death of him if he didn’t get it under control. But that was his plan, to tame his emotions and rarely act on them. Even as an apprentice he had always preferred logic - logic made sense...Logic would have told him not to attack Rockthorn when he had never fought another cat before and Rockthorn had already proven himself as a dangerous opponent. He straightened his spine with the slightest hiss of pain at the faint movement, his wounds not fully healed yet. Enough that he could move around the camp but not enough to return to his duties lest the reopen. He had been given so much time to think and reflect on his own actions...He sighed deeply as he focused on the horizon, finding himself wondering still if he had thrown away Rockthorn’s one chance at redemption...

Ashstar's emotions, kept carefully locked away where they couldn't get the better of her, were threatening to escape and overwhelm her. Life ever since she had become leader had been a whirl of pain, grief and misery, the same sad scenarios replaying monotonously over and over and over again in the stressful and exhausting pace of everyday life. It was a fate she wouldn't wish on anyone. Honestly, she wasn't sure why so many cats aspired for the position. All it had done for the WindClan leader was to further shatter her already broken heart, over and over, until she wasn't sure what she was any more. The gray-furred she-cat no longer trusted her emotions. Whether anger or sadness or frustration, feelings were a double-edged claw, a raging tide that would sweep her away if she didn't keep a close hold on them. Of course, when she shut herself off from fury and heartbreak, she took away joy and peace and kindness as well. The fundamental virtues that the she-cat had always held dear were now some of the most dangerous things trying to control her from inside.

The truth was, Ashstar no longer trusted herself to love.

Every cat she loved, every cat she held dear or became close to only suffered pain, or made her suffer, because of it. Icestorm and Lightfoot, her mate and her friend, were dead, and countless more with them. Birchkit. Graybriar. Thrushheart. Gorsefeather. Silverfern. Frozenflame. Sharppaw. Emberleaf. The list went on. Smokepelt, her one living son, hated her with a burning passion, as did her apprentice and brother-in-law, Cedarfur. And now Mottleheart, her adopted son and trusted warrior, had been hurt because Ashstar was too incompetent to protect him. Why, why had Sablestar chosen her all those moons ago? The kind, motherly she-cat that had been Ashwing so very long ago had been far from the ideal choice. What.... What had made the leader pick her instead of some other cat, any other cat? She couldn't even protect her Clan. She'd killed Rockthorn, yes, but what good had it done? It wouldn't undo the fires, Shadepaw's blindness, or Mottleheart's wounds. There was no point. No point in trying any longer if she couldn't help anyone she truly lived. And yet, Ashstar went on. She never knew what made her do it, what compelled her to continue living. The strange force that made her go through the motions of each day, even when her heart wasn't in it. She never slept, she barely ate, she usually stayed in her den. But live she did. And.... she wasn't sure why.

After another night staring at the stars, wishing they would take her to be with the cats she loved, the WindClan leader got up to watch the sunrise. The part of the day that gave her hope that things could change. That maybe, someday, the forest would have peace. No maimed apprentices, no battles, no murders, no fires. Just peace. Though she knew it was a far off hope, a foolish dream that could never see the light of day, she clung to it like a lifeline nonetheless. On the grassy knoll of her usual hill, a brown and white tom stood outlined by the brilliant rising sun. Mottleheart, her son. Not her son by blood, but the closest she had to one since Smokepelt had refused to talk to or even look at her. They had become as close as mother and son during his apprenticeship, and that bond had been cherished through his warriorhood. Yet even he had been growing distant lately. Dare she try to bridge the gap? She had already lost so much. But she couldn't just walk away- she bad to try. She would not lose her other son. The scrawny, exhausted gray-furred she-cat padded silently up to beside Mottleheart. She sat there, long tail curled around her paws, green eyes reflecting the sun's illuminating light, saying nothing. But she was there, if he wanted to talk.

Mottleheart only twitched an ear at the sound of Ashstar's arrival, not turning his head to stare at her and instead kept his gaze focused on the horizon. It was only when she settled down next to him and yet said nothing which caused him to turn his head, glancing at the leader with a sadden look. He couldn't image what things must be like for her - having to deal with so much trouble in the last moon...It was moments like this where he found himself all to happy that he wasn't her deputy. But he kept his face almost emotionless, only the slight darkening of the eyes revealed the sorrow he felt for the WindClan leader. His gaze quickly snapped back to the horizon, forcing down those feelings. He couldn't feel sorry for her - he couldn't be blinded in anyway. He had to be loyal, he had to be brave...He had to be strong for her.

"Ashstar," he spoke after a few more silent heartbeats passed, growing tired of the silence he had cherished up to that moment. He...He had missed her voice during his time in the medicine cat den even if it was his doing for growing so distance. While every fiber of his being told him to shovel those feelings down after the harsh lesson he had learned at Rockthorn's claws, they broke through as his glanced at the she-cat he saw as a mother figure through the corner of his eyes. "How...Are you?" The answer seemed obvious - she wasn't okay. He wasn't okay. But it was the only thing he could think to say.

The question he asked caught Ashstar by surprise. His quiet, sorrowful voice echoed in the silent morning air as the sun rose into the orange and pink clouds. How.... How was she? The most obvious and standard of questions was somehow the hardest for her to answer. The roiling storm of emotions in her chest stirred once more, an absolutely chaotic mess of rage and triumph and weariness and unspeakable grief. Each one flashed temporarily through her light green eyes, marring her otherwise calm features. Anger, dismay, hope, heartbreak, love, confusion, despair. All broke free, swirling around inside her and taking hold. Staring into the dawn, the emotion behind the leader's gaze made her hollow face take on a haunted look. She didn't realize she was crying until tears dripped down her face, crystal clear and unpleasantly wet, but she made no move to wipe them away. Silent sobs overtook her exhausted, weary body. Her weary shoulders slumped, and her tail pulled tighter around her body as she came to terms with all the feelings she had been pushing away ever since her only son had abandoned her. No. No, not my only son. I... I have Mottleheart. But did she? Did she really have him, after all she'd done? After she'd failed to protect him? After she'd failed to protect her Clan? Would he.... Would he ever love her again? "M-Mottleheart," Ashstar finally managed to choke out, hoarse voice barely a whisper. "Mottleheart, I... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. It's all my fault."

Mottleheart's ears feel flat as the silence sat between the two, whatever hope he had for things being alright quickly fading as there was no reply. He turned his head away, focusing once more on the horizon, failing to see the leader crying as he tried to settle his own raging emotions. But then she spoke, and his gaze quickly fell back onto her as his heart dropped even more. His eyes widen as he fought against the feeling of surging forward but...He blinked, shaking his head as he swallowed. "Its not your fault. Its mine," he said as evenly as he cold although his voice felt on the edge of cracking with emotion as he shifted his gaze away once more, unwilling to see his heartbroken leader before him. He had to keep his emotions under control, he couldn't let them blind him. He had to be logical. Logic always made sense... "I attacked Rockthorn - he wasn't hostile until I landed the first blow. I let my emotions get the better of me and... Its my fault...I shouldn't have provoked him like I did. You have no blame for what happened."

The leader's shimmering green eyes fixed themselves on Mottleheart as he claimed the blame for Rockthorn's aggression. Before he finished speaking, she shook her head. "No, there was nothing you could have done. Rockthorn was already violent, was already a monster deep inside. I should have seen it. I should have known that day in ThunderClan camp. I should have known when he snuck into WindClan camp. I should have killed him then! But I... I was too weak...." Ashstar's desperate, hoarse voice faltered, her gaze dropping down in shame. She couldn't look at him anymore. She didn't deserve to. "And because of me.... Because of me, you got hurt." Her quiet, barely audible whisper was miserable as the dawn's light fell across her unkempt gray fur. In the morning sun, her claws looked red, and it seemed to her that they were still coated with Rockthorn's blood. And consequently, the blood of Shadepaw, Mottleheart, and every other cat he'd hurt. It was all her fault.

There was a moment of silence from Mottleheart as Ashstar tried to blame herself again, shifting on his paws before he took in a deep breath. "We both have regrets on what we should have done involving Rockthorn," he noted coldly, shaking his head. "But...Perhaps it isn't our fault but his. Rockthorn saw only the negative in his life and it broke him. Perhaps I could have saved him, perhaps you should have killed him sooner...But..." his ears flickered as he turned his gaze back onto the horizon. "We have lessons we can take from this. We can grow stronger as we put this behind us. The past is done...But the future still awaits us all."Mottleheart couldn't deny that it felt...Nice. Nice to now be blinded by his own emotions as he tried to put logic behind it all. And logic told him that there was no good to come from dealing with regrets. "We can be stronger together," he said, turning his gaze to Ashstar. "I do not blame you for what happened and I don't want you to do so either. We are alive and Rockthorn is not. Justice has been met according to StarClan's will. Now we look on toward the horizon for what is to come."

The words Mottleheart spoke were logical and concise, and had the ring of truth to them. Slowly resurfacing from her nightmare that all the destruction caused was unavoidably her fault, Ashstar stared off into the distance still, giving a brief dip of her head in acknowledgement of the words. She couldn't stop blaming herself, but being such a mess over it was definitely unacceptable, especially as leader. She needed to get it together. But how could she, when she'd been such a failure? As WindClan leader, all that she'd managed to do was get herself in a war with RiverClan, lose Rippedsky to SkyClan, estrange her son, let Rockthorn escape.... She'd thought she'd made the right decisions at the time. Though she didn't regret appointing Brindlewhisker as deputy- the she-cat was extremely capable, and a large help to her. But all the other choices she'd made- all the other mistakes, the problems- what should she have done? What could she have done? Why.... Why wasn't StarClan there to guide her? As she looked despairingly into the horizon, green eyes dull but desperate, a cool breeze ruffled her long gray fur. A whisper ran through it, barely loud enough to be caught by her suddenly pricked ears. We are here, Ashstar. Startled, to say the least, the WindClan she-cat sat up straighter, eyes looking around nervously to find the source of the sound. Mottleheart, who was on her left, didn't seem to have heard it. As she glanced around, her eyes caught on a shape far off to her right. Focusing more on the distant figure, it materialized before her eyes, a starry cat with short white fur and knowing blue eyes. "Lightfoot?" she mouthed, barely any sound coming out, astonished at the sight of her oldest friend. Were her eyes playing tricks on her?

Padding closer, the StarClan tom dipped his head. His form grew more defined as he drew nearer. "It's good to see you again, Ashstar," he purred, the smile she knew so well on his face. But his features grew more serious as he regarded her tear-stained cheeks. "You're always so quick to doubt, my old friend. You know we are always here, watching you. We are so proud of you."

"Proud?" Ashstar's voice was hoarse and quiet, forgetting about the tom that sat on her left, most likely confused at his leader talking to thin air. The small talk between mentor and apprentice, leader and warrior, mother and son, had suddenly been left behind in light of this new occurrence. "How could you be proud of me after all that I've done? You should be ashamed. I don't- I don't deserve this."

The former WindClan warrior's blue eyes silenced her. "Please, Ashstar. No more self-pity. It won't help anyone at this point. You made the right decisions. If you doubt yourself, you won't get anywhere." His expression softened as he saw her ashamed glance down at her paws. He walked up closer to her, nudging her side to get her to look back at him. "I know you're hurting right now. But you have to be the leader you were called to be, for WindClan. There are more cats than you know that look to you for courage and guidance, and they need you far more than you need us. Your sacrifices don't go unnoticed or unrewarded." As Lightfoot echoed the words he had spoken moons and moons ago, when Ashstar had died for the first time, the gray-furred she-cat had the ghost of a smile pass across her face. She nuzzled into her old friend's side, feeling like an apprentice again. He returned the embrace before backing slowly away, a kind smile on his face. "Remember, Ashstar. We are always with you." Then his starry silhouette faded away, leaving an imprint on her mind.

Watching spellbound, the leader made an almost involuntary movement as her friend left her again. "Wait, Lightfoot! Don't go!" But her friend had gone to rejoin StarClan once more. Instead of leaving her more saddened, the tom's disappearance brought a small smile to her face. He deserved the many moons of rest he had been given. Her fluffy gray tail wrapped tightly around her paws as she thought over his words. With a small, self-deprecating flick of her tail, she realized he was right. She was making a fool of herself over her doubt and indecision. She should be better than this. Thank you, Lightfoot. Thank you. Ashstar suddenly remembered the spotted tom on her left, and turned quickly to face him. He hadn't been able to see the StarClan warrior, had he? She was speechless, for once, green eyes studying his face to see what they saw there. What should she say? "I.... Thank you, Mottleheart."

Mottleheart found himself growing worried at the silence that drifted in the air, shifting on his paws as he waited for a response from his leader. He allowed his gaze to search the horizon as he waited for something to break the dreary silence...But when Ashstar spoke up, Mottleheart's heart sank as he turned his gaze confusingly onto his leader. Lightfoot? His ears perked as he barely recognized that name. It...It was an older warrior - had passed away before he had been born but he recalled tales of the warrior. But why was Ashstar calling his name? The tom shifted on his paws, almost absently scooting away from the leader as Ashstar continued to speak in a quiet tone, questioning how they could be proud of her and...Mottleheart swallowed as he stared at his leader, emotion crossed between fear and confusion written all over his face as he tried to find any words what to say. But nothing came to him, his voice dry as he tried to put together why Ashstar was speaking to the air. W-Was StarClan visiting her? Why could he see them? Was Ashstar simply seeing things?

The warrior had no answers as another silence filled the air, kneeing the ground with worry as he waited for Ashstar to acknowledge him once more. Nothing was said, the air empty as heartbeats drifted on until Ashstar called out again - calling for Lightfoot not to leave. Mottleheart's eyes darken as he opened his mouth to say something but cut himself off as finally Ashstar turned her gaze to him once again with little to say. Finally she thanked him and Mottleheart could only grimace as he himself was speechless on the strange one-sided event he had just witnessed. "You're...Welcome...?" he said, although he sounded very uncertain of it as he thought about bringing up what had just transpired but decided that perhaps it wasn't the time. He...He needed a bit of time to even figure out what to think after that.