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Rosepaw was a little relieved when Batsong agreed to lay down with her, allowing herself to flop onto the warm earth. In the green-leaf season, the sun-baked earth never really cooled down even when the sun wasn't at its peak in the sky. Rosepaw still enjoyed the warmth at this time, used to a cosy life in the houses and distant garden, soaking up the sun on half of her body while her head lay in the dappled shade of the gorse. There would not be much of this before it became unbearably hot again.
Rosepaw gazed up at the peaceful puffy white clouds floating in the clear blue sky, which she had come to imagine as Flutterpetal and their other lost clanmates. In such a happy moment, her chest still tightened. She rolled over to look at her friend, musing thoughtlessly, "
Do you ever want to get away from it all, the stress?" ...and just live in peace?
The constant effort to eat, the checking of borders, ever-present threats, grief in the aftermath of war, leadership and a view of the stars Rosepaw just couldn't find faith in, there was much she wished to get away from. Starving in the snow as a kitten had felt simpler, now in the suffocating heat it all felt like too much.
She wished she could just have her beloved WindClan, the sense of home, the vast fields and flowers, Batsong and Whisperear, without the feeling of burden and entrapment that had plagued her since her first moon back. She sighed sleepily, her thoughts buzzing like bugs, so loudly Rosepaw wouldn't be surprised if Batsong could hear it too.
Her friend had her own responsibilities and burdens, so Rosepaw wondered distantly how her friend would take her absent-minded question. Her eye blinked heavily with tiredness, drifting somewhere between conversation and dreaming. When she closed her eye and dreamed of home, was it the warmth of the sun baking the moorland, or the cosiness of a house? The blooming flowers of the fields, unknown to her until recently, or the garden? She did not know ~ it all blurred together, confusing her.
And did she really know any of her loved ones? The same as before, and yet so different from how she had remembered them. The older cats she had grown up respecting many seasons ago had endangered the clans. Her friend had started
a war, and Flutterpetal had
died, and Sootstorm had
attacked an elder, and Whisperear had gotten
angry. It made her head spin. What, who, even was WindClan anymore?
She blinked her golden eye open again to regain her bearings, to search Batsong's face for the comfort she still somehow couldn't help but find there.
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