The Shadows Get Longer; Further They Move from Us Behind (closed)

The stones were warm beneath his paws, the gentle babble of water over the rocks moving to the sigh of the breeze through the grass behind. The glimmer and flicker changed and moved endlessly to the same tune, his paws cold against the ground beneath him. His eyes lifted with effort from the river, to beyond - the reeds and the willows, and the shapes of sloping hills further still. It felt like the drip and splash was the sound of his heart as it beat, tumbling over rocks, forced to move onward endlessly to who knew where. No part of him stirred but the beat of his heart and the breath of his lungs.

Why would she leave like this?

Their adventurous daughter with the sparkle in her eye and the quick, ready tongue. Russet-ginger flashed in the corner of his eye, seeming to wink at him - a leaf falling to the ground. The breeze sent it rustling to his paws, and he instinctively caught it, trapping it against the stones. It fell still, nestled against the white of his paw. Hollow - the sentiment echoed in his heart like the distant drip of water in the still of early morning. Empty.

"What did we do wrong, Bat?"

Grief had a way of clouding her senses, she knew; but she knew just as well that the world would move on with or without her. So she knew that the lingering clouds, the heavy atmosphere that felt so real in that moment, was little more than the manifestation of their lonely thoughts - beyond the veil of tears, the shadow of their grief, it was all just the same; leaves drifting on the breeze, the river flowing, the sun and moon and stars still hanging in the sky.

"What did we do wrong, Bat?" Minkstream asked, and she didn't have an answer.

(Where had they gone wrong? What could they have done? Were they not enough, or too much, or was it nothing to do with them at all?)

When she finally spoke, her voice felt hollow - or perhaps it was that she felt hollow in a way she'd long forgotten, just as she had when she'd come home hoping to see her brothers and learned that they were long since gone; or when she'd seen her father for the last time and he told her in no uncertain terms that they were gone.

"I wish I knew."

Bat's hollow voice replied, and he found himself staring down at the leaf beneath his paw, quiet stillness that wasn't peaceful, just... lonely, empty. Despite Batbite by his side, despite it all.... On impulse, he turned his head and touched his nose to the fur under her ear, closing his eyes and listening to the beat of both their hearts under the babble of the river, steady - a steady reminder of something tangible.

"Do you ever think we'll see her again?" His quiet murmur barely rippled the stillness. "I can't believe, after everything...."

His voice trailed off. What he'd been about to say even he didn't know - where he'd been going with it. What would the stars care? It was just him and Bat - it always had been. Even Mottledspark wasn't enough - maybe even the old grouchy tomcat would have accusation in his eyes if he stood before them in the river, the waters flowing beneath his paws. Was this their punishment? But no, that had been before - sickness, right? The thoughts seemed to slip away from him in a cascading torrent, like the tossing of the rapids.

There was nothing, that was just what it was. It slipped away, and it wouldn't come back.

"I suppose there's no way to know," she murmured in response, leaning into her mate. As long as she was next to him, could feel his warmth and hear his voice, it was just a little bit easier to pretend. To pretend that everything would be alright, that she wasn't on the verge of tears; that her heart was strong and solid and not several shattered pieces barely held together. "I came back, after all, and who could have expected that? But then again, who could have thought my brothers would ever leave, and they never returned."

A deep sigh escaped her throat, equal parts sad and wistful. "I can only hope that if we never see her again, it's because she found something better than this."

The unspoken words were clear enough. That she hoped beyond hope that Dock would learn not to settle, the way her discontent mother had. Batbite had never felt truly at home in the clans, and in a sense she'd found and lost herself outside of them; in the end she'd taken the illusion of belonging that ThunderClan offered - the comfortable lie of a warrior's life - over the mystery and the unknown. And her paws still itched to explore, but she'd settled here - raised a family here, they'd settled together and made a life for themselves - and now she wondered, not for the first time, if it was cruel to bring kits with wanderer's blood into a clan they were expected to never leave.

"I want to go after her. But I know I can't. We made our choices... And now we have to stay."

Found something better.... Some part of him almost wished they'd stayed where they'd left, back at the abandoned barn, back in those happy times without a care in the world. Except... there was something almost numbing about day after day after day spent somewhere so like the endlessly drifting murmur of the river - something so slow about staying in a place where the world never moved. With a sinking feeling, he knew that restlessness that demanded exploration - a curiosity of a place beyond simply settling down - was what had taken hold of Dock's paws. That bold sense of adventure beyond closed borders, that longed to poke into new and strange places and take on mountains and valleys.

Stars knew he felt that. Batbite summed it up for the both of them, and a quiet sigh slipped from his maw. Is it in our blood, or is it just who we are? Deep inside, he had a feeling it was a little bit of that, and a little bit of where their paws had led them - through Twoleg alleyways, flung into a strange lake, across mountains. Nothing... had felt right after that - nothing had felt truly settled. When he was a kit, it was RiverClan and his family, and that was all the world was. When had that changed? If he had to trace back along the twisted, winding trail his path had led, and brush through the reeds back to the beginning, it had probably been Starlord. That moment when his curiosity had led him to ask his mother about their father. Half-Clan.... Never quite fit in. He'd longed to know this strange tom, to have a connection with the cat he held bits and pieces of, and that was the first time he'd felt truly restless, truly discontent with borders and normal Clan life. And then... all of his family....

His eyes opened in the gentle quiet, just the feel of Bat's comforting presence close beside him and the sound of the river. Her mother had abandoned her, too, just like his father. Strange how things seemed to lead back to that - parentage and heritage, an endless loop, seemingly unbreakable. "Sometimes I wish we could." A kingfisher flitted low across the river, and a heron with long, thin legs cautiously stalked out of the reeds to the bank, movements delicately graceful yet halting. They never seemed to worry - just flew and hunted without responsibility. Responsibilities.... Whether he wanted to or not, he couldn't leave, anyway. Probably even StarClan was as closed-in as this. "Sprout wings, fly away."

He was quietly rambling now, to the beat of his aching heart. Shaking his head slightly, he glanced at Bat, a bittersweet hint of a smile touching the edge of his maw. "I want her to come back, if only to say goodbye, but..." His eyes drifted to the horizon, hazy rolling hills just visible above the reeds and flats of the marshes.

"...The winds know we couldn't keep her down if she wanted to fly."

The same ghost of a smile reached the edges of her face as she returned his expression. "That's true enough. I think... I think she'll be okay," Batbite sighed softly. "And as much as we might wish for them, we have no wings to chase after her with," she added, nudging him affectionately. "But at least we know we're not alone."

There was a pause, a deep breath, as she gathered her thoughts and dared to voice them; not to overthink and analyze, the way she was prone to. There would be time enough to overthink it later - they had a wealth of time, at least, even if everything else seemed to slip out of their grasp. "If I'm going to feel lost for the rest of my life... I thank the stars every day that at least I'm lost with you."

He smiled slightly as she nudged him, resting his chin on her head.No... we're not alone. But sometimes... looking at the sky, puffy clouds on the horizon and drifting in faint wisps... it sure did seem that way, despite the closeness of others beside him. Yet, Bat was there, the sound of her heartbeat gentle in his ears, the warmth of her familiar presence turning the sting to a warmly sad memory, filtering through his mind, a gentle dimness, the scent of milk and squirming bundles, beautiful little wriggling things, so delicate but already full of life.

'Dock, deep-rooted and bright.'

Her little ginger and white pelt, the glint in her green eyes, the eager sense of adventure, that bright shine everywhere she went. Shouldn't have said that. Deep roots.... Sometimes, though.... roots reached further than any cat would think, far into distant places.

He breathed in and out, closing his eyes, his heart beating slow and steady, like the ever-moving river, the always drifting winds. The world changed, everything changed, but the river ran on, and their hearts kept beating. Even when they stopped, still the river would run. "You have no idea how often I've thought that," He murmured, breathing out a quiet breath, a hint of humour to its edge. "What a pair we make... but... it's a beautiful mess if it has to be one. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Not for the world."