undertow [C]

The initial feelings she felt towards Cindersky being named deputy had both cooled and grown in their intensity. She no longer felt the spike of vitriol she had in the moment, but the feelings did not dissipate entirely. They had cooled to a quiet ache in her chest that hurt every time she was left long enough to let her mind wander. She did her best to hide it, especially when she was in Cindersky’s company, but it seemed that Rookflight knew her too well to keep it all hidden for long. Shame briefly washed over her as they walked through the territory, but she kept her expression neutral.

“Cindersky is a—good choice. I am not sure if she was the best choice,” Willowwisp said. It felt like a mean thing to say. It was probably objectively true, there were many warrior more senior than her after all, but it was a sentiment coated in her own envy. She did not want to say her own selfish sentiments aloud. “As for myself I am…I am…managing, I suppose is the best choice of words. It still…hurts…when I think about her.” Her death was so sudden, it was unfair. How could she only have her mother for a year of her life? It was cruel. It was a cruel choice from the stars.

Willowwisp’s heart jumped in her chest when Rookflight turned the conversation over to the subject of Cindersky. Her pelt felt hot. She could guess given that Rookflight brought it up that he heard what she had said before of the newly-named deputy, and shame seeped into her bloodstream. She had felt ashamed later on, with how upset she had been in the moment, but at the same time she could not quite shed the feelings. When she thought too hard about Cindersky being deputy…it didn’t click in her mind. It felt shameful that she thought that way.

“I…am simply not certain she is the best choice,” Willowwisp repeated quietly. Her tail flicked for a moment behind her and she let out a quiet breath. “I think she is a good warrior and a cat of great character, but she is…soft. Similar to Aunt Poppy. Aunt Poppy and Mother balanced one another out well, but now—I am not sure how capable Aunt Poppy is to be the strong decision maker that a leader needs to be, and I do not think Cindersky will be able to push her to be that decision maker.”

She set her jaw closed with a quiet click of teeth. She still didn’t say the true undercurrent of her feelings; she said nothing of the jealousy that lit her paws aflame. But it still felt like she said too much, and spoke shamefully. Rookflight, as kind as they were, would surely think poorly of her now.

Willowwisp’s muscles were wound tightly like a branch ready to snap in a harsh wind. She paused and looked to Rookflight in surprise when they agreed with her. There were some caveats to their agreement, including some compliments toward Cindersky in the process, but it was still a surprise to hear. Even more so, Rookflight acknowledged her dissatisfaction with a degree of understanding. It was such a surprise that her ears both twitched, trying to hear better as though she had somehow made up the words. Willowwisp had spent her life hiding behind a thick stone wall, keeping her feelings to herself for almost everything. She did not have the passive, understanding exterior of her late sister Mistwalker, nor did she have the kind compassion and outgoing nature of Wrensong. She had terrible, thorny feelings—jealousy and doubt and a desire to know that she and she alone was the best. Things she desperately tried to keep down, for she knew they were unbecoming of her. Her mother would have hated it. But why couldn’t she just be understanding like Rookflight, acknowledging Cindersky’s growth? Why did she have to be told that she was deserving of the position first?

The thoughts left Willowwisp paralyzed for a moment before she blinked and pulled herself back into focus. She gave a slow nod and replied, “She has grown more than she seemed to be when Auntie Poppy called on her. I am sure she will be a fine a deputy.”

But I wanted to prove myself first, she didn’t dare say. Who she would need to prove herself to anymore, she wasn’t sure. Her mother was gone, her sister was gone, and Wrensong’s body had been wrecked by her illness that she would surely never be able to surpass Willowwisp anyway.

Stars. When had these awful thoughts become commonplace?

“I think my mind has just been muddled since my mother’s death,” Willowwisp finally admitted, her voice painfully soft. “I have not felt like myself.”

Willowwisp finally turned her gaze back on Rookflight. They truly were ever patient with her. There were many cats that those awful thoughts always swirled in her mind towards; thoughts that they did not deserve the place they had or that she would surpass them with ease if she only tried. Not with Rookflight, though. They were always so understanding and she thought that they deserved a lot of what they had. Of all the cats her mother trained, Rookflight was surely the best.

“I want you at my side,” she reassured him softly. “I am glad that you are here…You and Sunpool both. You have helped me more than I think I can express.” She expelled a soft breath through her nose and leaned towards them in turn to press against them the way they did to her. “My mother had good instincts with you. I think she could tell what a good cat you would grow up to be.”