tell me a tale [open]

It was rare that there was nothing in particular to do; but that was the situation Zinnia had found herself in now. Her apprentice was occupied, the patrols were patrolling; and so she made her way to a comfortable resting spot not far from some kits. Kits seemed to enjoy stories no matter where they were born, though should any apprentices or warriors approach she wouldn't mind telling her tales to them as well. So it was that she asked, "Would anyone like to hear a story?"

Olivepaw had heard talk about Zinnia and where she'd come from, but had never heard anything more than that she'd come to WindClan from far away. She passed her paw over her ears, giving them a thorough washing, her attention being grabbed by Zinnia's voice. Olivepaw had always loved stories, and the prospect of learning more about her Clanmate and the land she hailed from intrigued her.
She stood and padded over, sitting down near the older she-cat.
"I'd love to hear a story!" she chirped.

A story. Raventail lifted his head from where he lay, ears turning toward Zinnia. Having dismissed the patrols without including himself in any of them, he’d found himself with nothing left to do. Aside from the tales he and Finchstar sometimes exchanged, when was the last time he'd heard a story? Even if it was meant for kits, any chance to forget about WindClan’s recent tragedies was more than welcome. Picking up the small sparrow he’d been chewing on, he seated himself just close enough to indicate he was listening—as if his eager eyes and ears, still pointing quite obviously in Zinnia’s direction, hadn’t already given him away. Hopefully his presence wouldn't scare off any of the kits.

A story. Starlingkit trotted over to Zinnia and sat down in front of her with an air of grace. He was ever-so-slowly growing into his lean frame, losing the short, stubby kitten legs for some more long and slender, more fitting for a WindClan cat. He curled his tail around his paws and stared up at her expectantly, light green eyes shining with intrigue. Is there anything much better than a story from a traveller? he mused in his head. Maybe a sweet breeze, or the sound of a bird calling... Either way, the bengal tom was content to simply sit and listen.

"Well then," Zinnia mused playfully, eyes sparkling with delight as she surveyed her audience. "I suppose I should ask what sort of story you'd like to hear. I know many, after all - ones I've lived and ones I was told when I was younger still than you, Starlingkit - and it can be hard to choose which to share, sometimes."

Olivepaw ran her paw over her ears as she thought. What would be better? A story about where she came from, or a story she heard there?
She flicked her tail as she responded,
"What about a story you heard growing up?"
I wonder how different the stories she heard are to the ones the elders tell here?

Just as he had that thought, one of the kits—Starlingkit, unsurprisingly—padded over to join them. What an odd group. A kit, an apprentice, and a deputy, all gathering to hear a nursery story. Or, well, whatever nursery stories were called if they were told in something other than a nursery. Since there seemed to be plenty of room, Raventail scooted a tail-length closer. ”No problems here,” he murmured after Olivepaw's suggestion. ”Something with a happy ending, maybe?”

"I tend to prefer happy endings myself," Zinnia mused. "Yes, a story I heard when I was small, one with a happy ending... I know just the tale for today. My youngest sister was always fond of this one," she added. "It begins in a time many seasons past, in the place I once called my home, and it is a tale about Iris of the Winds."

As she shared the familiar tale, Zinnia was brought back to her own kithood; time spent in flower fields with her sisters as their father told them stories. "Iris of the Winds was born just Iris, to a family that loved her dearly; and she learned all that they knew. Before long, they realized she was special, for she could move faster than any cat anyone had ever seen - when her mother had taught her to hunt she outran the swiftest prey, she glided across the water when her father taught her to swim through the streams, and she was always first to the top when her siblings to climb the tallest trees. After some time, though, she grew tired of doing the same things day after day. When everything is easy, you see, it's also rather boring."

She looked over her audience, wondering momentarily if maybe she'd picked the wrong story for WindClan cats, who were known for their speed. Still, she carried on, the story already in motion. "So she sought the wisdom of the eldest cat she knew, Dandelion, who offered to teach her something no amount of running would help her learn. In time, she said, Iris would be a great warrior, and she would someday save her home. But first, she needed to learn patience. Dandelion tasked her with keeping watch at the edges of the flower fields from sunfall to sunrise."

"To keep watch was a great honor, for it meant she was trusted to keep all the cats in the fields safe from the foxes that lurked beyond them, but Iris was proud and felt she was being punished for simply being better than others were at hunting and swimming and climbing. So while she was meant to keep watch, she wandered away to explore and play; and returned to her post shortly before the sun rose and Dandelion arrived to teach her to fight. Dandelion taught her to wait for the right moment to strike, to think rather than act quickly, but Iris struggled to learn. One night, as she was off exploring, the flower fields were ambushed because there was no one keeping watch to warn them of the attack."

"Iris returned to find the aftermath of a grand battle. Dens were destroyed and fox-scent lingered, but no cats remained. She turned and ran, thinking it was all she could do, until she ran right into the other cats' hiding place. They had escaped after all, and no one was seriously hurt. A part of her thought that maybe they would be happy to see her, but they were furious that the traitor who doomed their home had dared to return. In the end, it was Dandelion that spoke. She said that if Iris was daring enough to return after abandoning her post, she ought to lead the attack on the family of foxes that had stolen their home. Everyone else agreed that this was a fair punishment, and so her fate was decided. They would return at sunset, and Iris would lead them."

"Dandelion was not heartless, and she offered Iris one last lesson. This lesson, she said, was the most important of all. But she didn't teach anything at all, that Iris could tell - just sat with her until the sun began to fall, talking to her when no one else would. When it was almost time to leave, Iris dared to ask what the lesson had been, and Dandelion told her that it was forgiveness. She said that they could build a new home, somewhere else, and that Iris wouldn't have to lead them into battle at all. But Iris had learned something, she realized; and she shook her head. She would lead them into battle to reclaim their home, and she would someday be worthy of that forgiveness."

"Iris valiantly led the cats into battle against the foxes. The foxes were stronger, she knew - but they were smarter, and there were more of them. The other cats formed teams, attacking a single fox between them; but it was Iris that faced down their leader. She ran circles around him like the wind was on her side, always keeping herself just a single pawstep out of his reach; and the battle between them continued long after the other foxes had been driven away. Eventually, after she'd thoroughly exhausted her opponent, she attacked with a single swipe across each of the fox's eyes and a third across its nose. The fox, temporarily blinded and unable to smell its companions, ran away; leaving the cats to reclaim their home. Iris of the Winds was forgiven, for she had saved them all, and they would never fear the foxes again."