The walk home wasn't enough to appreciate the dawn that crested over the sparse trees lining the Thunderpath. Cinderpaw would need wings to gaze upon a sight so beautiful. The morning mist blown by Leaffall's chill called to her. It swept at the she-cat's mane, long wisps of white fur billowing in the breeze. How gracious of the dawn's light to even give Cinderpaw the time. Why did she deserve to be cradled so gently by the sky? How could she even compare to the brilliant hues of soft white and gentle oranges? There were no clouds overhead, only the cold air that filled Cinderpaw's lungs with life and head with thoughts. The openness of her surroundings left room for contemplation, an activity the newly appointed medicine cat feared greatly.
She'd parted ways with Mossbloom after spending one last night at the moonstone. From where they'd left off, Cinderpaw could gaze upon the entirety of the forest - as much as the mist could give her. Red leaves whispered in the wind, stretching out for as far as her eyes could see. WindClan's territory was vast, ryegrass whipping at Cinderpaw's legs as she walked. The stalks made her feel small for once, placing her life in perspective. In the massive state of the world, what did the medicine cat's woes even mean? Could her apprehension even compare to the golden waves of heather that swept over the moor? Did Cinderpaw's fate even make a mark upon the oaks that marked the edge of the plains? She sighed and felt lonely. All that was to accompany her on the walk home was the vast sky, unbiased, cold, yet endless. And even that, too, put wind to her paws, and a spark to her feet. Even as Cinderpaw knew not even the stars themselves could heal her great longing, she found comfort in it.
Alone, so alone. No cat would ever understand the apprentice so deeply. Even as she raged and roared in her subtle ways, not even Wolffang could gaze into the she-cat's soul and claimed that she understood. Cinderpaw could wish all she wanted for a miracle to come along and heal her woes. Some gentle paw to touch her heart and trace all her invisible scars with a gentle smile. Did the forest even know how she squirmed near others? Did they see Cinderpaw hunch over alone in her den? Or were her minuscule struggles nothing to the rest of the world? Did they render her a petty fool?
Crossing the Thunderpath was a feat in and of itself, but all glory that could come from such a small thing was stripped away as Cinderpaw told herself such an action was not to be celebrated. There were cats all across the world performing better deeds with greater significance. What did Cinderpaw's trip to the moonstone and back even hold against living and dying for one's clan? She was simply floundering in nothingness, thinking once that she'd achieved something great, but stripping away that title after doubting herself. No one saw Cinderpaw's struggle, and they'd look on past her as she returned to ShadowClan. Not even her family, her closest confidents could read her mind. They didn't know of her true desires. Her will to run free under the vast open sky. She wanted to be loved so fiercely, to be touched with an understanding paw. The medicine cat wished for redemption from the path she'd chosen to take, and yet knew deep down that her life held no meaning without that decision. If Cinderpaw wasn't ShadowClan's medicine cat, then she was just another sad soul with aimless wants and desires. If Cinderpaw didn't accomplish great things and heal her clan, then her emotions meant nothing in the grand scheme of it all.
Oh, how the forest whispered in the wind. Was that all that Cinderpaw was? A tool to be used, to further society? Was she only created to fulfill her role and die? It was so utterly selfish to want for more. The medicine cat knew it was foolish to wish for it to come. No love, no light, could save her from herself. And the she-cat would still always be useless in her own eyes. She craved to be told compliments and praises. She raged at night, wishing to hear that she'd done well. Cinderpaw was an utter fool, slave to the words of others, under all her walls she'd built. No matter how much she could ever accomplish, it would mean nothing if she was never told she was good.
As Cinderpaw reached the shelter of ShadowClan's pines, her paws stung, and her legs ached. The she-cat's temples were swollen from the tears she'd been fighting so desperately to hold back. Her greatest need had defined her life. Cinderpaw wanted to be needed. She wanted to be important, someone the clan would think of and desire. Not due to her status, not due to her role, but simply because she was Cinderpaw. But could that ever happen? Quiet tears began to stain the massive smoke's cheeks, she ducked beneath a pine's boughs and sobbed quietly into her paws. Where was the cat to lift her chin and say "it's okay?" Where was her salvation? Oh, the melodrama of it all. It was so selfish to cry here and worry about her own small wants and needs while others had real issues that racked at their frames. Cinderpaw wasn't deserving of empathy, no. If one were to look into her mind, they'd only find but a kitten in a large body, too concerned with her own desires to be of any use to her clan. But Cinderpaw could ensure that'd never happen. She'd close her soul off from others, fulfill her duty quietly, bite her fate and live life until the end. No cat would ever find her wants and desires inside, no. She'd never share such a deep love with another soul, she wasn't deserving. Such a thing was far too idealistic, and served only to mock her role to the clan.
Sucking up her thoughts, Cinderpaw emerged from her tree fortress a stone. Nothing would ever penetrate her emotions as she rebuilt them once more. No soul would ever find her petty dreams deep inside. Cinderpaw was made to serve, to fulfill her role. And that was what she'd do. The walk home was not long enough to appreciate the sky, as it would take moons to truly learn what was hiding in its bleakness. But Cinderpaw breathed in the icy air and smiled, ready to face her destiny once more.
