and when it's hard i'll place your head into my hands [C]

Rowanpaw

 
A robin circled overhead, singing softly to bright blue skies. Warm and gentle water tugged at Rowanpaw's legs from where he stood, just off the bank of the river. It hadn't gotten too deep yet. Boldly, he waded further outward, heeding the current's steady pull. It wasn't long before the shelf dropped out beneath his paws, and he was dipping into the water faster than expected. He gasped, shocked at how cold the water felt when it first touched his dry fur, at how close his mouth came to dipping under. But he was steady. Where he was walking before, his legs fell easily into the rhythm of paddling.

"I do not know why Mama frets so," he chuckled to no one in particular, paddling along. "I have not been weighed down at all! I would say I am quite the fine swimmer." And he was. His legs felt strong, his body did not tire, even when he wheeled to beat against the current, forging upstream. The water cut around his body, trying to pull him backwards, but he was stronger. It was effortless for him. With a merry laugh, he reared upwards and dove into the river with a splash, sinking beneath its current like an otter.

Below the surface, everything seemed to wiggle, a usually clear line of sight muddled by distorted light and a ceaseless current. A soundless giggle left Rowanpaw, bubbles rising from his lips only to pop upon reaching the surface. Little fish swam past his nose and brushes against his paws, not minding the clumsy way he tried to swat at them as they passed. It was all so wonderful and surreal. More giggles bubbled away from him. Though his chest was not tightening to signal a lack of air, he worked his legs to push himself back above water.

However, as he crested the surface, there was no bright blue sky or warm air awaiting him. The heavens had turned dark, a frightening pitch that growled with thunder. Terror struck Rowanpaw suddenly. When had there been a storm coming? Just moments ago the day had been perfect– why this? Panicked, he kicked his legs wildly, desperately trying to correct himself and paddle back towards the bank.

Sheets of rain came, hard and painful as it struck his back and his face. He blinked rapidly, desperate to shake the water out of his eyes. He was opening his mouth to yowl, cry out in the vain hope someone would hear him, when a harsh wave crashed against him and frigid water flooded his mouth. Rowanpaw sputtered, but he could not recover from the force of it. He had never seen waves like this in the river before. Whatever he had or hadn't seen, it did not stop more waves from coming, pummeling him until he could do nothing but roll uselessly with it, pulled between drowning and gasping desperately for seconds of air.

No, no, no! He wanted to cry. He could not right himself, he could not fight against this, he could not breathe. His body felt heavy, impossibly waterlogged, and yet frighteningly light as the river threw him effortlessly downstream. I do not want to die here! Not like this! Please, let me return home! The world grew frightfully bleaker. It felt like he was in the belly of the world itself when he sky roared with another powerful clap of thunder. Then there was one streak of lightning, a hot flash of purple to light the sky–

Rowanpaw woke up gasping. His chest was heaving painfully. Though he had not screamed, his throat ached as if he had. His forelegs had gone rigid, toes unconsciously splayed and claws flexed to grip desperately at the earth. For a long while, he did not realize exactly where he was. Had his nightmare been a memory? Had he been washed away alongside his brothers, and–

Alongside his brothers... Right. The shivering earth had driven RiverClan to Fourtrees, where he slept now. Not far from him, Sprucebark and Hawkshriek were asleep themselves. Somehow, the sight of them did not make him feel any better. Once his muscles had relaxed, he pulled himself into a tight ball, covering his face with his feathery tail, and lay there shivering.

...

He could not sleep. However long he lay there, he wasn't sure, but he could not sleep. The cold terror of his nightmare replayed in his mind as long as his eyes were closed. Sighing, Rowanpaw got wearily to his paws. On the opposite edge of RiverClan's cluster, he could easily spot Poppyshine. Hickorypaw was not too far from her, though he lay closer to Dovesighr and Sandypaw than any other. And closer to Poppyshine than Hickorypaw, Stormdance. Another sigh left him, and the still-unusual anxiety he was slowly becoming accustomed to crept into his heart as he padded over to the sleeping pair.

First, he pressed his nose gently into the soft fur between Poppyshine's shoulders. Though she had been more like her old self since... everything, he still worried deeply for her. He did not want to wake her unless necessary, and while this did not feel necessary... he wanted her company. "Wake up, mama, if you can," Rowanpaw murmured softly, nosing her a little more determinedly. Then, he shuffled over to Stormdance, and gave him a brusque headbutt to the shoulder. It was not rough, but it did not come with the same gingerness as his touch to Poppyshine. "You as well. Up, please." He waited a few beats, watching as they both roused, though he was not considerate enough to let them awake fully before barreling forth. "I am... plagued by unfortunate thoughts, and I can no longer sleep. I would like it if you two would wake up fully and– keep me company, as it were."

To his own surprise, Stormdance’s sleep had been relatively undisturbed. He was still a light sleeper, perhaps now more than ever, but he had been asleep, and he had not woken up. Perhaps it was the sheer exhaustion of all that had happened recently that dragged Stormdance into such deep sleep.

Waking up throughout the night was hardly an unusual experience for the ever-tense tom. Normally, when he was back in his own nest, in the comfortable and warm familiarity of the Riverclan camp, he’d simply draw the shell Dovesight gave him so many moons ago close to his chest before listening to the breathing around him until he fell asleep again.

But now there was no shell, no safe nest, and the source of his awakening was not his own fretful mind, but the sharp sensation of a head against his shoulder. Stormdance was awake within seconds, eyes opening and for a moment, adrenaline pumping as he sat up, barely able to make out the form of Rowanpaw in front of him. He looked around, half expecting to experience the sensation of the ground falling out from beneath his paws again, but of course, all was calm. Instead of disaster and ruin, there was simply his apprentice, his little brother, requesting company, and something to fill the silence.

Stormdance let out a soft, warm chuckle, shoulders once again relaxing. “Of course,” He murmured, blinking the last of his sleep from his eyes. He moved carefully, tiptoeing around his sleeping clanmates until he was sitting closer to Rowanpaw and Poppyshine. He sent Poppyshine a small, weak little smile. While he hated the idea of Rowanpaw so on edge he was having trouble sleeping, this, at least, was a problem he could do something about. “Company I can do.” He promised with a flick of his tail briefly over Rowanpaw’s shoulders, before settling down with his paws tucked under his chest.

Poppyshine

Poppyshine dreamt of shaking rocks, or falling trees, of trapped family, both alive and dead. It somehow did not terrify her in the same way that Rowanpaw’s dreams had terrified him. She experienced her dreams with what would have been frightful calmness if she had been more conscious to understand her dreams. There was an almost distance in how she experienced the dream; a kind of understanding that gave her a sense of calm. There was hope held in her jaws, silently believing that things would work out, no matter how frightening her dream was in the moment.

She was stirred relatively quickly but Rowanpaw’s insistent nudging. She lifted her head and roused faster when he realized it was her son coaxing her awake. Poppyshine lifted her head and moved instinctively against Rowanpaw. She rested her head atop his head and purred. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We are here for you.”

Poppyshine met Stormdance’s gaze briefly and she mirrored his somber smile. She was so grateful that Rowanpaw had Stormdance to feel as comfortable with. Every day, she was more and more grateful that she had chosen Stormdance as Rowanpaw’s mentor; they were a perfect match, and Stormdance filled the older brother role wonderfully.

“Come, lay down with us,” she whispered as she tried to coax him to the ground like he had coaxed her awake. On the ground, she curled up against him held him against her like he was a little kit again. He was not, of course, and was nearly too big to properly cuddle in such a motherly manner—but she still rested an arm over him, pulling his back to her belly, and she began to groom the top of his head in the same calming, repetitive motion as she did when he was still kit-sized. “Do you want to tell us about your nightmares? They may help them go away if you talk about them.”

Rowanpaw

Both warriors stirred easily, neither putting up any fight as they were nosed and shoved out of their slumber. Though grogginess lingered in them, they seemed properly alert. That was enough. A half-hearted smile graced Rowanpaw's features when Stormdance moved closer, and he did not whine or shy away at the gentle tail brushed across his shoulders. Similarly, he did not put up a fuss when Poppyshine stretched to rest her head atop his, a gentle, comforting purr rumbling through her throat. Though, Poppyshine had always been different. Though he had never been too fond of being touched, and often squawked about displays of affection, she was the exception to the rule.

And as she was the exception, and as there was no one lingering awake to snicker at them, and as he was too tired and frightened to resist much, he did not put up a fight when she gently brought him to the earth. The grass was cool against his fur. Everything had felt cold when he first woke up, like he had been thrown into an icy river, but this was a pleasant feeling. It shocked him just enough to make him feel more present, especially when the blades stirred against his twitching whiskers. Rowanpaw went a bit limp as Poppyshine curled around him, his muscles going slack and just... laying there against the grass. She felt small against his back now; he had not realized how much he had grown. He often snickered about how he was growing tall, and quickly, but he had not realized how much he had truly grown until her foreleg had only half draped over him. Ah, he really was growing up.

Tensing his muscles just enough to feel less like a dead fish, Rowanpaw allowed Poppyshine to groom him, relaxing quietly against her. It was a comfort he had not experienced in a long time. It almost embarrassed him; he was all-but fully grown, and surely close to being a warrior, and yet here he lay being cradled by his mother and pestering his mentor over a bad dream.

Rowanpaw grimaced. He was torn: he was not sure if this was shameful and beneath a young warrior, or if this was acceptable. Neither cats would have stirred if they did not feel it important; Poppyshine would not be holding him now if it meant nothing. Suppose both of them had a point with the ideas they tried to impress upon him, that a cat could not exist by themselves.

Closing his eyes, Rowanpaw sighed, willing his still unsteady breaths to fall into the same pattern as the rhythmic scrape of Poppyshine's tongue. "Oh, well, it was not too bad, now that I am awake to think about it," he started dryly, a wan laugh punctuating the words. Really, it felt silly now. It did not feel worth bothering them over at all. It was only a bad dream; every cat had bad dreams, some more often than most. Rowanpaw was nothing if he were not fiercely independent, even at his own detriment. He was torn again. It was an odd and clumsy and frightening feeling, to ask for care. It was an odd and clumsy and frightening feeling, to feel more a burden than he did a casual nuisance. A little shiver went through him. He hoped Poppyshine did not feel it, or that Stormdance did not see it.

"I suppose I may as well, since I have gone through the trouble of waking you both. It was a fine dream, to start– I was rather enjoying it, actually! –out by the river, by myself, as I am... ah, wont to be, though I imagine it does not carry the same consequences in the world of dreams as it does somewhere more tangible. It was a nice day, far more pleasant than this horribly chilly weather we've been having lately, a nice breeze and birdsong... It was just pleasant. I was enjoying myself. I imagined, since the day was so nice and there was no one to stop me and it would be fun anyway, I would spend a little while swimming.

In my dreams, I am a wonderful swimmer. Were I able to pull you both into my dreams just to see it, I would have. Which is not to say I am not a good swimmer naturally– I am good at many, many things –but I do not have to worry about the water clinging so desperately to my fur and tugging me down when it is only my subconscious, and so I am an even better swimmer! It was wonderful. I was so light, and the water so warm, and I decided to dive and– well, I do not know if I have ever gone out of my way to dive in the river proper and truly open my eyes. But to dive there... the light hit the water and made everything glow, and all the fish that fill our rivers swam right past my paws and my nose. It is, well, fanciful and kittish imagery, but it was nice nonetheless.

Alas, good things... well, we are all aware that the forest may be temperamental. When I arose for air, the skies had turned black, some great and violent storm brewed just for me. It was a horrible thing, all roaring thunder and hot lightning and blinding rain and... and... and it upset the water. It tossed me like I was only a scrap of fur, and nothing more. I do not think I have ever seen waves in the river, but waves there were. It pitched and rolled me and I could not fight against it. Everything was loud, and cold, and I could not keep my head above water, and–"

Rowanpaw inhaled, trembling. He had not meant to babble the whole thing in one senseless breath, and he could feel the tautness in his chest from forgetting to breathe. He had also not realized that, at some point in his recounting, he had started to shake again. More than just a passing tremble: though it was still a small shiver, it was present and persistent. Though he tried to will himself into stillness now that he was conscious of it, it seemed his limbs had already been convinced there was some immediate danger present. He dwelled for a moment, inhaled, exhaled, and then just sighed wearily and squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter. He did not like this feeling. He did not like it at all. Even in the nursery, he had not felt this small. Curling into himself as much as he could manage without shrugging Poppyshine off him, he blearily managed, "It was only a silly nightmare, now that I have told it. It is not worth being so concerned nor frightened over. I imagine I will recover soon enough. It is not worth the worry."