autumn comes when you're not yet done

The one thing Emberheart had found she suddenly had an abundance of was time. And she spent it, as much of it as she could every day, until she had to rest for fear of her legs failing her, on anything and everything. She’d played with the kits, told stories to the apprentices (and occasional warrior), walked the perimeter of the camp more times than she could count, and generally made herself as present in most Clan affairs as she ever had as a warrior. She spent more time out of the elder’s den than she did inside it, and that was the way she’d always hoped it would be.

It took some time, but she realized by the time the leaves began to fall that she’d even started to enjoy having that time to take. Staring up at the gaps of sunlight that filtered through both the clouds and the forest, there wasn’t much she could imagine to compete with that feeling of contentment. The only things that came close were the memories of spending time with her loved ones, and those memories felt distant and faded now. So, too, did the pain of loss; almost but not quite forgotten, tucked safely in the back of her mind.

Not that it really mattered. There wasn’t much left to lose now, was there? Once upon a time she’d thought the same, bitter and depressed, and fallen into herself. But enough time separated then and now that she could hardly recall what it was like to be the Emberheart of then. Things that had happened, yes, but what she’d thought at the time was starting to slip away. She briefly wondered, one sunny day, if the Emberheart of then would be happy with the Emberheart of now. Perhaps she would have called herself lazy and complacent. Perhaps not. Things changed in time, and she knew all too well that cats did too.

If there was a single lesson that had taken her whole life to learn, it was that not even the longest-lasting things were permanent; however much and however desperately she’d wished for them to be. Perhaps that was for the best; after all, change could be positive. And the perceived rarity of positive change only made it more precious, didn’t it?

And she’d seen plenty of it, to be sure. After all, ceremonies usually meant name changes, and those were often a cause for celebration.

Change wasn’t inherently good or bad. It was just… Change. She’d seen cats come and go, Clanborn and outsider alike; ThunderClan or not. She’d loved them like her kin, because in her eyes they were; and she’d grieved for them, too. She’d seen battles won and lost, wars that would be forgotten and stories that would carry on through following generations.

A memory came to her, unbidden, of herself - though much younger - promising that one day she’d live a life of grand adventure, and she took a moment to reflect on that promise.

She’d seen her Clan fight through wins and losses, and seen the aftermath of each war and battle. She’d seen StarClan turn their backs on the Clans, and she'd seen them return. She’d lived through the flood and all the chaos that had followed, fought against the dogs in the mountains. Helped to rebuild their Clan upon their return.

She’d fallen in love, and loved more than that.

Yes, she thought to herself. She had lived a life of grand adventure, the one she once dreamt of. And it was worth every moment.

She had lived.

And it was on one sunny day, as the leaves fell from the trees, that she would stop.

Beyond the pleasant weather, it was an unremarkable day for most of ThunderClan. Emberheart felt more tired than usual, and so had remained within the den she now called her home, staring at the ceiling with a quiet contentment she’d never stopped to imagine.

She half-watched the camp outside through the entrance, her mind drifting as it often did. Today it settled on Dawnpetal, her first friend and her first love. Too often that line of thought carried her to depressing moments, but today she thought of their apprenticeship, and how they’d been attacked by (and subsequently defeated) an owl, on a day not entirely unlike this. It had been chillier then - closer to leaf-bare - but some of the leaves hadn’t quite fallen yet.

As the hazy details of Dawnpetal’s face filled her thoughts, she closed her eyes, and it felt like a weight she hadn’t even noticed was being lifted.

The camp seemed... Quiet. Like something wasn't quite right. Mossbloom padded through the ferns into the main clearing of the camp and looked around. Was there a late Greenleaf storm approaching? Or perhaps there was a ceremony she had missed the summons to.. Camp was bustling as usual, nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first, so she turned to head back towards her nest when a sudden realization hit.

Where was Emberheart?

Usually the she-cat was outside the elder's den, watching the warriors and apprentices and kits go about their days. Always willing to share her wisdom and stories, the older she-cat loved seeing the going ons of the clan she loved. So why, then, was she not in her usual spot? Hopefully she hadn't gotten a cold... Or caught the cough that was already starting to spread in the first teachings of leaf-fall. A beautiful, perfect ginger leaf, almost the exact color of Emberheart's pelt, caught her eye as it floated to the ground at her paws. She stared at it before picking it up and carrying it to the entrance of the elder's den, peeking in.

Her old mentor, before her paws were called to that of a medicine cat, lay peacefully in the den. Her eyes were closed, and for a heartbeat Mossbloom thought that perhaps she was just sleeping... Until she realized just how silent the den was. The leaf fell from her jaws as she quickly finished pushing into the den, fear and concern filling her. She couldn't remember if Pricklebush was in camp, or if he had left for RiverClan again. Her paws shook as she nudged the elder she-cat, hoping, praying, that she was just sleeping. The quiet sound of gentle breathing filled her ears in their strained state, and she laid next to the elder. "Emberheart?... Are you okay?... Do you need something?..."

Maw filled with more worms, Duskpaw padded into the elder's den with far less wariness than before. The apprentice had found she enjoyed asking ThunderClan's lone elder all her many questions. Emberheart had lots of stories to tell, and didn't mind when Duskpaw would sniff at her scars and ask of their origins. She would bring worms each day she visited, hoping the old cat could watch them dance and feel happy. Duskpaw knew if she had to be locked up in that stuffy den, she'd like some worms to chase away the boredom. However today there was a new visitor, a small tri-colored she-cat who smelled like herbs and carried a heavier weight Duskpaw had yet to touch on. Mossbloom had been one of the cats whose gaze was clouded. She had come to realize that some of her clanmates didn't like her adventures, and her fuzzy pelt. Duskpaw would oftentimes feel powerful, wondering if they were scared of her, but they didn't run away as mice did. They simply watched her with shaded eyes, hiding something unknown. As curious as ever, Duskpaw decided to ask one of the perpetrators one day. She would be careful not to sneak up on them and spook them. She'd sheathe her claws and smile wide. Perhaps then cats like Mossbloom could tell her their secrets. But the alone time Duskpaw wished for with Mossbloom didn't seem to prepare itself at this moment. It would be wrong to ask the medicine cat her prying questions right now. Duskpaw had yet to determine why, but the calico's eyes were sad like Beartooth's. More secrets that the fuzzy cat wished to uncover. "Are you gonna stay in this den too? I'll bring you some worms as well!" Duskpaw deposited her wriggly catch on the ground, watching Mossbloom with a curious expression. Oh, the questions wouldn't ever cease. Unable to hold back anymore, Duskpaw sat down in the den like she had lived there all her life. "You're sad, like Beartooth. The squirrels don't even make him smile."

The apprentice suddenly found herself wishing for Dacepaw, a sunny friend who would be able to make Mossbloom laugh once more. Duskpaw didn't know how. She was good at catching worms and squirrels but still couldn't find all those hidden answers the jaded-eye cats hid from her. Emberheart lay still on her nest, ginger pelt peaceful in the shaded den. Duskpaw traced her scars with her eyes once more, remembering the stories the old elder had told her. A pang sullied in her chest and the apprentice soon realized that there would be no more stories. She shouldn't have brought her worms today. Emberheart wasn't bored anymore. The emotions that now swam in Duskpaw's chest were strange, ones she hadn't ever felt before. The concept of being gone was something of a rarity to the kit. Never before had she ever thought over what happened to all the beasts that died. She never reminisced over her late father, or the mice that now resided still on the fresh-kill pile. It was a simple thing, they just now ceased to exist. Their bodies remained as something to be buried, however the concept of a soul was something Duskpaw found strange. There was a still silence in her movements as the apprentice shifted onto the ground, stretching her paws out in front of her to grasp Emberheart's strangely still tail. It was interesting that the forest should take Emberheart away. Maybe she had done all she needed to. Duskpaw didn't have any idea of what that might have been, but the stories Emberheart had told her were those of adventures and whimsy. Perhaps now that her journey was finished, she didn't want to be a stinky old elder anymore. Duskpaw let out a strange, choked gasp as her green eyes glazed over. It was only for a split second, a slip of the shale that fortressed her being. And then there was nothing, just a solid acceptance as her dues had been paid. "She's dead." The apprentice spoke simply, head cocked as she stared into Emberheart's peaceful face. She wished to live the adventures her elder-friend had as well.