spinning in circles [closed]

(title comes from this song)

After the dust had settled and the cats of WindClan had found the chance to rest peacefully, no longer fearing the wrath of any starlit traitors, one of their number found herself lying awake. It wasn't that she feared falling asleep, but it couldn't seem to find her now, after so many days of simply resting for an hour or two at a time. The stars glittered far above, the night having proven cloudless.

No, the only clouds among them were of the earthly sort - the clouds that plagued Zinnia's mind, as she remained lying where she was and watched the stars. What was it, that had sent her to WindClan so many moons ago - rumors of a group of wild cats, truly wild cats, of a place that felt like home? And what she had found there - cats in need of aid, their home plagued by foxes that weren't foxes at all.

(The worst sort of fox, she thought to herself, was the sort that thought itself a cat.)

So she had pledged her allegiance, offered her assistance, and she had stayed with WindClan. Even once the fox-cats were dealt with, and her promise to help had been fulfilled, they hadn't asked her to go, and so she had stayed - her allegiance had been pledged to their leader already, so what reason had she to leave? She'd liked this place, then, liked the cats that made it up and learning about their cultures and traditions. Even if it had terrified her when Finchstar granted her an apprentice - and oh, how proud she was of Maplewhisker, that having a cat who could hardly be called a warrior for her mentor she had managed to become a fine one after all.

It was easy, then, for a time. She carried on - she went on hunting patrols and lazed about the flower fields, inquired about traditions she didn't understand, and happily shared her own stories both lived and imagined. Things were simple, and she was happy here - she had come to love this place, she realized, and the thought of leaving hadn't crossed her mind even once. It had started to feel like home.

And then the Righteous Few had shown their faces, had killed her leader, and the focus had been on vengeance, on honor and love.

Now that the dust had settled, however, she had to wonder: would she have to leave? She was still strange, she knew - though she hunted and fought and slept with WindClan, even her name betrayed that she was not born a moor-runner. Oh, she'd learned, rather well if she did say so herself; but she'd never been a 'kit or a 'paw or an anything, really. She was one of them, but also distinctly other.

She closed her eyes, falling asleep to the echo of a calming breeze that existed only in her thoughts; and when she woke she saw the sun just as it was beginning its ascent.

Zinnia was absent-minded, had a tendency to lose track of her own thoughts and wind up somewhere far from where she'd started, and often seemed as if she spent more time in her own dream-worlds than reality. Despite that, she was not stupid, and she knew the only way to know for certain if she would have to leave would be to ask. And so she sought out Raventail, the cat who held her fate in his paws, to put an end to her wandering thoughts.

At its core, every aftermath was the same. The sun and the moon chased each other across the sky; the stars, benign once more, twinkled overhead; and WindClan remembered how to live. No matter what horrors his Clanmates faced, they came out standing tall. The Great Rock itself couldn’t match their resilience. Raventail loved them for it. Once he’d gotten his strength back—a several-day endeavor involving more sleep than he was comfortable with—he got to work right alongside them, filling his time with border patrols, hunts for prey (which he knew) and herbs (which he didn’t), and keeping watch while the Clan rested.

It was easier to do that than to let himself think. What could have happened… What had happened. Their victory had come at the cost of one of the bravest cats in the forest, too late to save most of the Righteous Few’s victims. They’d all lost something. While his Clanmates’ wounds took precedence, Raventail was as much a cat as any of them; despite appearances, he hadn’t come out of this unscathed. Dacedream. Finchstar. His imminent journey to the Moonstone circled over him like an eagle. On the evenings WindClan needed him least, he watched the sun set in quiet solitude from the top of Outlook Rock. The budding flowers and the breeze didn’t ask for strength, nor did they judge him for lacking it. That couldn’t heal him—but it did help.

Now was the time to hope. Hope Morningdove would live to hear her warrior name from her Clanmates’ mouths. Hope he could bear whatever trials awaited him at the Moonstone and come out nine times stronger. Hope nothing like this would ever happen again. The moon had set; the sun had risen.

In more ways than one, apparently. Raventail woke to warm, sweet-scented air and the latest in a string of cloudless skies, and if that wasn’t promising, what was? He yawned so wide it hurt. Careful not to jostle Dappleshine beyond lightly touching his nose to her forehead, he crawled out of their nest. A look around told him that a few other warriors’ nests were empty. The dawn patrol. His paws itched to join them, but he couldn’t see Olivestone anywhere; whether she’d gone with them or stayed behind to visit Morningdove, it meant he had to stay in camp until she returned. The rest of WindClan slept on…

With one exception. Zinnia walked aimlessly around the camp—or maybe, Raventail thought with a slight frown, not so aimlessly. There was something deliberate in her stride, something not quite at ease in her expression. By now, he’d come to consider her a friend; she was kind, peaceful, and cool-headed even when her mind wandered, with any number of fascinating stories from beyond the moor. Besides, if there was a way to fight a goose with someone and not feel some sort of kinship, Raventail hadn’t found it. Avoiding his Clanmates’ tails, the dark-furred tom padded up beside her. ”Zinnia,” he said brightly. ”You’re up early—though it is a good morning for that.” After a skyward glance, he fixed his eyes on Zinnia again. "So, um—you looked like you had something on your mind. Anything I could help with?"

"It's a lovely morning to be awake," Zinnia agreed breezily, before remembering the reason for it. "Ah, yes. There is something that I wanted to speak to you about... That is, if it's not too much trouble. I wouldn't want to keep you."

She had a tendency to ramble, to wander off the course of conversation - it wasn't intended, but it was often how things went, and today she would rather avoid it. As for the current topic of concern: how best to raise the issue, she wondered...

"You know as well as I that I am not a warrior, in the traditional sense. I was not an apprentice of WindClan, though I have had the honor of teaching one of yours. Likewise, I have never had a warrior's ceremony. Instead, I pledged my allegiance to Finchstar when WindClan needed someone to assist. It has been an honor, to live and hunt and fight alongside all of you, but... Now that Finchstar is among the stars," she spoke softly, hesitantly, "I was wondering if you would prefer me to leave."

She waited for a response, tail curling around her side; concern and uncertainty written plainly on her face.

She would very much like to stay. But if Raventail wished for her to go, then she would leave without hesitation.

If he would allow her to stay, she would proud pledge her allegiance just as she had before; though perhaps with more love behind it now.

She truly loved this place, these cats. The flowers and the stars and the company, all of it wonderful and awe-inspiring in its own way.

So it was something. A matter of friendship or leadership, he imagined; there wasn’t much else he’d be needed for. Unfortunately, the gap between those two categories (and his level of comfort with them) was as wide as the Gorge. ”Anything for a friend,” Raventail said with a nod. Hesitance peeked out from under his casual tone. ”Besides, I don’t have anywhere to be. What is it?”

Every time he’d spoken with Zinnia before, he’d been happy to follow wherever her mind led, no matter how far off course they ended up. Today, the path she took had no twists or turns. He sat in the early-morning dust, hints of another frown forming on his muzzle as she explained. Her voice was gentle. Almost two full moons after the fact, knowing full well that Murkpaw’s word could be trusted and Finchstar now ran alongside his kits and Brookclover, Raventail winced at the reminder that his friend truly was gone. But before that could burrow too deeply, Zinnia went on.

For a long moment, Raventail was silent. The tip of his tail twitched as several expressions, mostly varying shades of confusion, worked their way across his face. He was too awake and the camp was too silent for him to believe he’d misheard; Zinnia had spoken too plainly to be misunderstood. Despite her stories and unusual name, Raventail often forgot she wasn’t WindClan-born; apparently, however, she remembered. The short tom opened his mouth. ”…What?”

Of course, that wasn’t an answer. ”What, no, why would I—“ Neither was that. He took a breath. Nothing in Zinnia’s face suggested she wanted to leave, but she’d asked him for a reason; either as a friend or as a leader, his opinion had weight. Closing his eyes, Raventail ran through his words one last time. ”Ceremony or not, you’re one of us, you know? For as long as you want to be, no matter what happens. If you don’t want to be, that’s something else, but…” He trailed off into a shrug, letting that possibility linger in the air despite how badly he wanted to gloss over it. ”What I’m saying is, I’d rather you stay. I think the rest of WindClan would agree.”

In response to Raventail's words, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "I don't wish to leave - this place has become as much my home as any other, if not more so. I would gladly hunt and fight alongside the rest of WindClan for the rest of my days. All the same... It was a thought I couldn't quite shake, after all that's happened. I'd started to feel like I truly belonged, but after the star-sent illness struck... I wasn't sure what to believe. And then, at the Gathering, Galestar's words confused me further... Thank you for finally laying my anxieties to rest."

She paused, weighing all her thoughts, and curled her tail gracefully around her side before she began to speak. She had made her choice, and so the time had come to truly pledge her allegiance. "Raventail. My paws are yours to guide as you see fit, on the path you think is best suited for WindClan. I will follow you in times of peace and war alike, into battle if that is what must be done. You have my loyalty, as a warrior and as a friend, as does WindClan itself. For as long as you wish."

His meaning had come through loud and clear. Raventail’s shoulders slumped before he could stop them, mirroring Zinnia’s relief. ”That’s—that’s great.” Galestar and the others had given up their right to WindClan’s loyalty the second they’d started threatening the cats they claimed to care about; in this, he’d never doubted himself. Then again, his blood and birthplace made him undeniably, unassailably WindClan. If he’d grown up elsewhere, would he have been so certain the Righteous Few were wrong? It didn’t matter, he told himself. That war was over, and Zinnia had chosen to stay. He mustered up a smile. ”I’m glad I could help.” The truth was, the moor wouldn’t have been the same without her.

To Raventail’s surprise, Zinnia remained where she stood. His tail swayed in a slow, steady rhythm as he waited for her to gather her thoughts. When she spoke again, something in her tone made him sit straighter. To some cats, the “I do” they gave during their ceremony was binding. To others, it was simply what one said knowing their Clan expected it; the intent came later. All that mattered was loyalty, freely and gladly given, just like this. It was an honor. It was…sort of terrifying, actually. Raventail blinked. ”Then I’m proud to call you a warrior,” he said, voice slipping out of solemnity, ”a Clanmate, and a friend. Though, uh…as a friend, if I start going down a path you wouldn’t follow, I want to know. A leader’s word might be law, but I’m still just a cat.”

"Of course," Zinnia nodded solemnly. He was a leader she was glad to follow, but should he stray from the righteous path he tried to walk... It was their job, as his clanmates, to let him know, wasn't it? "What sort of warrior would see their clan led to ruin? Though I believe you'll do perfectly well," she added with a soft smile. "Thank you again, Raventail. I suppose that, seeing as I'm already awake, I should get to hunting - it's been too long since I had the chance, with everything that's happened lately."

Agreement and a vote of confidence. Maybe he’d wake up one day to realize those words had stopped meaning so much to him, but if such a thing was even possible, it was too distant to imagine. Wearing a softer smile than the previous ones, Raventail dipped his head. ”I really, really hope so. Thanks, Zinnia.” Now that Zinnia mentioned it, a hunt sounded nice, especially under a sky as vibrant as this one would surely be. Maybe once he’d tracked down Olivestone, he’d set off on a patrol of his own. “Good luck,” he said, and broke into a full grin. “Remember, if you run into any geese, I’m just a yowl away.”