Melancholia [Sprucesnow]

The sunlight filtering through the leafless trees surrounding camp was still warm against Nighthawk's short fur, and she slowly stretched, back arching, before settling back into a sitting position. Amber eyes watched the quiet camp, seeming lost in thought. The clan had been through much recently, but they were finally home. Entirely new leadership seemed to have invigorated the camp's younger members, though Nighthawk was wary of the deputy and his daughter. A step up from Spottedstar, but just as prone to believing that they knew what was best and less diplomatic than a kit, it seemed. Still, they had the support of most of the clan behind them, from what she could tell. Or at least, they had the support of those who held the most sway in the clan.

For all of her misgivings, Skyclan's ranks had grown with new kits and apprentice ceremonies. She and Sprucesnow had grandkits, even.

Things seemed to be going back to normal, or about as normal as they ever were. And yet, the signature tension in Nighthawk's shoulders remained. It was certainly normal for her, the tension as much a part of her as anything else. The long nights spent in twolegplace had been awful, and Riverclan had only been a slight improvement. Here, among her own familiar camp (ravaged as it still was) and surrounded by clanmates, she should have been relaxed, comforted by the clan slowly rebounding from the recent traumas that had befallen it. Instead, she sat at the edge of the clearing, tense and aloof as ever, amber gaze watchful over the clearing.

So much had changed in these last few moons, it had started to get hard to keep track of. They had returned to camp, kits had gone missing, weather was changing, and completely new leadership had risen. Sprucesnow had heavy opinions on all of those things, but he mostly kept them to himself. He was no longer the respected warrior and only the slightly eccentric elder now, after all. Sagelight’s death had been especially hard. The tom had tended to many of his ailments these past few seasons, (which, admittedly, there had been a lot of) and was always so kind around camp. Spottedstar being gone was a different matter entirely, but he didn’t think about that as much.

None of that needed to matter, not anymore. He knew he was older, and that his time was dwindling. Focusing on clan politics when he barely even needed to keep track of them was useless. His family was so much more important. His mate, his kits, and grandkits, now. Speaking of which, he spotted Nighthawk sitting in a corner. A trace of a smile twitched at his lips. Typical Nighthawk, he thought.

Padding over quietly, he brushed his tail against her cheek, then rested it on her shoulder, leaning into her as he sat down, struggling just a bit to do so. It was just a bit of stiffness that came with his age. "Hello, love. How are you?" he asked, smile spread across his lips. This was all that mattered.

The watchful elder spotted her mate well before he reached her, a soft smile spreading across her maw and her expression warming at his approach. A soft purr made its way out of her chest at the brush of his tail against her cheek, and Nighthawk leaned into the familiar touch with a sigh. She'd noticed the stiffness in his movements, and found herself wishing there was more to be done for it. It was easy to think of him as the young tom with ambitions who she'd fallen for, and her love for him had never wavered. Yet they'd grown older, and with each passing season it became more apparent. As if to remind her of that, a twinge from her side made her wince slightly as she moved, the old scar tissue protesting as she reached up, sandpaper tongue rasping between Sprucesnow's ears.

"I'm fine, Sprucesnow. Glad you're here." She murmured. Things had changed so much but they had each other, had their family. How many warriors could say they had lived to retire with their mate? How many could say that and have grandkits to look upon and wish for their success? It was an odd feeling, but far from an unwelcome one, Nighthawk had decided. Other cats in the clan had certainly been successful in climbing the ranks, but she and Sprucesnow were just as successful, she felt.

"Hard to believe our grandkits are becoming apprentices." Graypaw had been given a soft, patient mentor, and Deerkit would follow his cousin out of the nursery soon enough. Nighthawk would be lying if the thought didn't make her feel old, but she was also proud of them.

Spucesnow’s smile spread. Every moment, whether it be with Nighthawk, Nettlefrost, or any other of his family, was special. He really tried to savor those moments as best as he could, because that was all that mattered now. He couldn’t do much else, maybe take a walk or two every so often, and he occasionally trudged up to gatherings. But he wasn’t a warrior any longer, he wasn’t on patrols or skirmishes. It was certainly more peaceful, but he missed the days where he (somewhat recklessly) got into dangerous situations. He like being in control, something that seemed to fade away with his age.

Taking his mind off of his thoughts, he leaned a bit closer to his mate. "Every day I thank Starclan that we can be together." Did he really thank Starclan? Sprucesnow knew that they existed, but he didn't really pay much attention to them. They had their chance living, he didn't understand why they needed to interfere with cats living their lives. Still, the romantic sentiment was nice, and he was thankful, even if he wasn't actually thanking a bunch of old cats.

"It really is. I remember when Nettlefrost was an apprentice. Now she has a mate, and a kit!" Stars, he was old. But having such a large and well family was nice. His grandkits were full of energy, as most youngsters were, and it was invigorating. A chill ran down his spine as a gust of cold wind blew across the camp. "I sure hope this weather doesn’t get much worse." He wrinkled just nose. The tom didn’t mind snow, it was just the coldness that came with it. It had been bothering him more than usual lately. And of course, the illness that was bound to sweep the camp. It was ominous, and he tried to keep it off his mind.

"They blessed me with you, and the kits. That alone is worth it." Whatever trials she had survived, she would have gladly done so again to be with her family. Nighthawk's own faith in Starclan was mostly gone now, after all that the clan had been through, though she of course believed in their existence. She didn't think they ever had the clan's best interest at heart, and wouldn't grovel to them, but if they had given her Sprucesnow, they weren't entirely terrible.

"They make me feel old," Nighthawk chuckled softly. She was old, of course, it showed in her graying muzzle clearly enough. Yet she'd noticed how she was slowing down and couldn't keep up with the youngster's antics as much. She had less energy these days, and she hated to admit it.

A gust of chilly air ruffled Nighthawk's short fur, and she gently drew her mate closer, wrapping her tail around him. The trees, battered so from the fire and bare of leaves already, did little to combat the wind now. The cold would do little to help either of their aching joints. Nighthawk could only hope that this winter wouldn't be as brutal as some others she'd seen.

"At least we won't have to hunt in the snow... Unlike the warriors." She smirked. Nighthawk's dark fur had always stuck out in stark contrast against the fluffy white stuff, and she could never quite master the art of keeping her paws from sinking as she tried to move through it. Several of the warriors seemed much happier in the cold, and more power to them, as far as she was concerned.

"Being old is a good thing, sometimes. It’s different than I thought though. Elders always seemed so wise when I was younger, but it doesn’t feel as different as I thought it would." Funny, a true sincere moment. He didn’t know a lot of the answers, and he hated that. "Not that I wasn’t always wise." He quipped. Whenever he was serious, a joke soon followed. It was just something that made Sprucesnow, well, Sprucesnow.

"You just don’t like what you aren’t good at." He teased as he pulled himself closer to Nighthawk. "Although I do suppose it would be hard with fur as dark as your’s. I had a much easier time." He explained. "I do miss hunting sometimes. That was something I always-" The tom was interrupted mid sentence by a coughing fit, turning his head away from his companion for a moment. When it stopped, he leaned back in, feeling worse that before. "My cough has been worse lately." he grimaced.

"I remember thinking the elders knew everything." Nighthawk's whiskers twitched. "Turns out they're just like everyone else. You're still the same pain in the tail I fell in love with." She added, amber eyes glinting with amusement and warmth. How she'd found herself beside him was sometimes still a mystery, but Nighthawk was glad of it. There were few cats that she'd rather have spent her days with.

"Oh, hush. You were-" She began, tone chiding, but the undercurrent of amusement in her voice quickly changed to one of concern at his sudden coughing fit.

"-You really should go and see Beechpaw, love." Nighthawk said, the hint of humor from earlier now gone. The days would only get colder as leafbare approached, and her mate worried her far more than the rest of the clan did. Hopefully Skyclan's new medicine cat knew what she was doing; she'd have her paws full soon enough.

Sprucesnow didn’t like admitting defeat. He hated it. He hated not being in control, not knowing what was happening. With age, those things start to slip away. One of the downsides of being older. He furrowed his brow, shaking his head stubbornly. "I’m fine. Just a little cough, that’s all. Nothing serious." he sighed, glancing down at his spotted paws. Now would he the perfect time for a change of conversation. But what to talk about?

"Sometimes I wonder why we can’t go a few moons without some crazy event." he snorted. "The whole Righteous Few ordeal wasn’t too long ago, and now kits are missing. Not to mention our whole Starclan-forsaken camp burning down." He scrunched his nose, pondering the past. But being somewhat serious didn’t last, and he chuckled again. "Was it really too much to ask for a peaceful retirement?"

Sprucesnow changed the subject, and Nighthawk's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him. Nighthawk was a worrier, always had been. Now would be where she'd argue usually, but an argument wouldn't help things. She'd nudge the clan's medicine cat in his direction once she caught sight of the huge tabby. She was intimidating and Nighthawk dearly wished for Sagelight's soothing presence, but she was what they had.

Maybe, just maybe, the foul-tempered apprentice would do okay. From what little Nighthawk had seen, she was brusque and no-nonsense, and when she wasn't moping seemed to be very focused.

"And the foxes are still out there..." She grumbled. Perhaps it wasn't helpful to list off all the things that had gone wrong recently. At least they hadn't lost three leaders and numerous clanmates in the span of 3 moons, though the memory of it still made the tension begin to creep back into her shoulders. Yet they'd lost a leader and a medicine cat in the span of weeks. Kits were missing without a trace. It didn't bode well, and perhaps it said something of how used to trouble Nighthawk was that she was already expecting more to happen before leaf-bare set in.

"I think that was taken as a challenge. Don't tempt fate." She commented dryly.

nighthawk was right

Sprucesnow nodded, noticing his mate grow a little bit tenser. He could tell what she was thinking about. That had been a dark time for Skyclan, and hopefully nothing would ever rival that. He wouldn’t be able to bear it, in all honesty. His ear flicked back as two kits tumbled over each other, giggling and playing together. "Everything seemed so simple when we were young. Good and bad. Tired or awake. Happy or sad. There was no in-between. No unknown . No...gray area." He sighed. It seemed that being older brought out the deeper thoughts in you. He had been much more methodical and melancholic as of late.

"A lot of my life, I don’t remember. I remember the major events, but so many small moments have slipped away. Especially from when I was really young. I wish I could feel those again, remember everything. Sometimes I feel-" he sighed, his voice softening. "Like I’m loosing control. Like it’s all going away. And I can’t stop it. I hate that feeling. Feeling vulnerable." His eyes met his mate’s sharp ones. That had been a thought train that had been bothering him for moons. It was all true, all sincere, every bit of it. Nighthawk was the only cat he would open up to like that. She and Sprucesnow had that kind of connection, that kind of relationship.

Nighthawk sighed quietly. She understood her mate's sentiment. The older she became, the more disconnected she felt from the clan. Her family was the only thing keeping her feeling like she had a connection to this world. All of her friends (what few there had been), her mentor, her parents... None of them were alive, all had died before even their oldest warriors had been born. The only one alive who would remember them was Tinylegs, and he was gone now, too. It was just her and Sprucesnow now, who remembered what felt like simpler times.

"We're old, Spruce... Stars, I hate admitting it. The only one left besides us was Tinylegs, and even he's gone now." A shake of her head, "Things have changed so much, I don't..." Her voice ended in a frustrated breath. Nighthawk had never been good at articulating her emotions. Sprucesnow had always been better at that, and his words had hit home for her.

"When we're gone, who will keep these memories alive?"

Sprucesnow sighed. "Being old seemed so far when we were young, and it’s still hard to think of myself as old. But elders have always been a part of the clans, for as long as I could remember. That’s why we pass on our stories, so that they aren’t lost. So that those that died are still remembered. And I hope that we will be, too." He smiled sympathetically. Even since he had been young, he always had a way with words, weaving them delicately into quite nice speeches. Nowadays he mostly just bantered, but those close to him knew his skill.

"Change is hard. But you know what? We’ve made it through so much, already. Who’s to say that we still can’t, even if just for a little while longer." He looked into Nighthawk’s eyes, his own swirling with emotion. "You’re strong, Nighthawk. You always have been. You always will be, always fighting. That’s what I love about you."

All this talk about older times was making him miss it. Back when he had been younger everything had been so different. A completely new clan had replaced the one he had grown up in, save for himself and his mate. He had seen so many leaders, so many warriors. And so much tragedy. So much death. That seemed to be the curse of living long, outliving everyone you know. You had to watch them decay, watch them die. You had to move on, pushing through the grief. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Nighthawk was gone. And even though it was horrible to think about, it was inevitable. Just like plants, all cats wither and die, eventually.