stone hearts [closed]

I need to speak with her.

Ratrunner… felt it, in his heart, a night after spending so long in the marsh — hunting and maybe just looking for something — that his paws were stiff and bloody. Digging in the hard, frozen ground for prey, he was reminded of doing so to… to lay Amberdawn to rest.

To bury her.

(And what was left of her… She looked like prey. No, worse than that. She’d been ravaged, mangled. And the thought had been so sharp, so painful, like thorns in his belly. They had brutally ripped her open, with less honor for her than had she been prey.)

The elders set her body within the marsh, and said a prayer. It had felt like a long nightmare, at the time, and though the Clan had been healing — moving on — and so had Ratrunner, a part of him... hadn’t understood it enough to let go. And so now, moons later, he had returned to the place where he killed Apollo, and tried to find peace in it. (He only found grief and regret.) He tried to think of why any of it happened, and how cats could bring themselves to do what they did (and why, beyond the grief they felt; the thought of killing the molly he fought to avenge Amberdawn made him feel ill).

It all seemed so pointless. And at the same time, like it wasn’t — like it meant so much he would break. I just don’t understand.

Most of the time, he could ignore it... but the feeling never left completely. And so Ratrunner slipped from his nest, just as the Clan began to sleep.

Icepaw had laid down to sleep, but she couldn't get restful slumber. It kept feeling like there was something bothering her and keeping her from claiming complete slumber. She curled her body tighter, trying to will herself to sleep, but then a sound caught her ear. She lifted her head and peered out from the entrance of the apprentice den to see a dark figure against the shadows travel out towards the edge of camp. It took a moment for her tired brain to register that it was Ratrunner.

Now what is he doing sneaking out of camp this late? Icepaw wondered to herself.

Keeping quiet so as to not wake her apprentice denmates, she stood and carefully slipped out from her nest. She followed curiously. Icepaw wasn't sure if Ratrunner was sneaking off somewhere or a good reason or do something...less than good. Nor did she know if it was something he wanted company on. So she kept quiet for a while as she trailed after him until they had left the main camp completely.

"...Ratrunner?" she finally mewed in a soft whisper. "Where are you going?"

Ratrunner hardly felt the brambles as he stepped out of camp — or stumbled, perhaps was more accurate. It was late, nearly dawn, and his paws were too sore to walk properly... ’This is foolish,’ said his mother’s voice in his head. ’You need to take care of yourself.’

She had said that, when she saw him — not an hour before. Eyes concerned, tail stiff… But Ratrunner needed to.

And then he heard his name; a whisper. Ratrunner blinked, wondering if he was hearing things. The night... spoke to you, sometimes. But then there was a soft thud of pawsteps—

And Ratrunner turned sharply, startled. He felt too worn to do more than that: gold eyes trailing over the little valleys of snow and frosted earth. A tingle crawled up his spine. And then he felt himself deflate. He recognized the still-small form. Icepaw. But what is she doing here? And then he made out her question. Ah. Of course. Ratrunner felt weary as he struggled with what to say. He settled for the truth. “I’m going to visit my grandmother’s grave.”

He felt too exhausted to say much else. It made him feel tired; shut off. “I’m sorry for waking you, if I did.” His eyes looked behind her, and he gestured with his tail. “You can go and rest. I’ll… be back soon enough.”

And he would be.

Icepaw nervously shuffled on her paws. Ratrunner looked exhausted, like he couldn't even stay on his feet. Like he was going to pass out in the middle of the forest the moment he was left alone. It sunk icy brambles into Icepaw's heart and nerves running down her spine. She didn't want to leave Ratrunner alone during...whatever was going on.

"Your grandmother?" she repeated softly. She emerged from her half-hiding spot midst the tall grasses and walked over to her friend. She leaned against him, partially to support his tired body and partially to comfort him.

She didn't want to leave him alone. She could still remember the wistful way he spoke of his family when they first met, and it was clear that it was still affecting him even now. He seemed so small to her now.

Icepaw meowed quietly, "Would you like some company? I'm not all that tired." She hoped that Ratrunner wouldn't turn her away. Even if he did, she would follow, but she would rather that she wouldn't have to sneak around to ensure that her friend was okay.