Post by Jackalstep on Oct 29, 2016 13:06:34 GMT -5
He padded unsteadily into the den, his stiff old joints seeming to protest loudly. Soon he would lie down and rest, but even the lying down would cause pain. Then he looked at her and stopped thinking about his pain.
The moonlight filtering through the branches of their den dappled her dull black pelt with silvery hues. Her fur wasn’t exactly black, anymore; she was so old that it had distinct brown undertones. Despite help from younger cats in grooming, that dull brownish fur formed clumps.
Yet he could remember when she was young, how her sleek black coat had gleamed in the sunshine. He remembered that it had once held the rich darkness of a raven’s feather. In his mind’s eye, he saw her running so swiftly that her fur was flattened against her face and sides.
She had always been able to sprint like a gust of wind. When they hunted together, he would marvel at her speed as she chased down a rabbit that he had flushed out of a bush. She would dash and tackle the rabbit, and moments later stand up triumphantly.
“We got it!” she would say. Never “I”, always “we”. That was the kind of humble cat she had been. Still was, in fact. Even if she was so frail now that she rarely stirred from her nest, she still had that same spirit of wanting to always treat every other cat as if they were the most important one in the world.
As he settled into the nest beside her, wincing at his arthritic joints, he thought of how she always greeted him with a cheerful chirp. But she didn’t have the same energy or vitality in her voice anymore; speech was an effort.
Her voice was still his favorite sound.
He remembered her tired but joyful purr when he came to meet their kits for the first time. There she was, curled around three precious little bundles of fur. He could see the pride, the happiness, the exhaustion, and the great love in her radiant green gaze.
She had such beautiful eyes. Even they had changed as well, with her great age. She couldn’t see him anymore, couldn’t see anything at all. He remembered when the first cloudiness had appeared in her eyes, and how it kept growing. All the while, she faced the loss of her vision with bravery. Now, her once jet-black pupils were opaque and milky, stretched so wide that only a thin rim of green was visible.
But those sightless eyes were still lovely pools of emotion; he could still see all of her feelings there.
“I will always love you,” he whispered into her ear as he curled closer to her sleeping form.
And he meant it sincerely. The love wasn’t the same as the thrilling emotion of the time when they decided to be mates, but it was more secure. He loved her, and she loved him, and that was something they could rely on because they knew each other so well. Not like the uncertainty of young love; theirs was firmly established, an enduring love.
“Enduring” was putting it lightly. They had had their fair share of squabbles, of course, and even had fallen out with each other once. But they always moved on, kept going, because they loved each other, and because they had promised to always support each other.
Even with her dull, clumpy fur, even with her frailty, even with her blindness, he thought she was lovely, because he loved her.
He drifted off to sleep, a faint purr vibrating in his throat.
She awoke before he did. Although she could no longer see the daylight, some internal clock told her it was daybreak. She lifted her head weakly and sniffed. He was right there beside her, his warm pelt pressing against her own.
His head was near hers, and she could detect the sickly odor of the thick drool that was a constant presence around his mouth now. She recalled how proud he had been of his whiskers and the fluffy ruff of fur on his neck, and how disappointed he must be that they were constantly smeared with saliva. He never complained to her, though; he cared enough about her that he didn’t want to draw attention to his own infirmities.
She would have liked to be able to fuss over him as he fussed over her now, like she always had when they were younger, but now their roles seemed reversed. Her whiskers brushed the edges of his ears, and she felt all the long-healed nicks and tears along their edges. Every time he was in a border skirmish, how she had worried over him! She would always clean the wounded ears so carefully, despite his protests that he liked how they made him look tough.
Yes, he had once been a strong cat. Moving her slightly wobbling head, she let her whiskers pass over his shoulders, feeling the atrophied muscles. There had been a time when those muscles were big and powerful, and he had been a feared warrior, but no longer. His arthritis made it too painful to move around enough to keep his strength.
His character remained strong as ever, though. He was brave and loyal and thoughtful, and so loving. She couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been there for her. It was true that there had once been a time when they had disagreed so strongly over something that they didn’t speak to each other for a few days, but that had been resolved, and together they had become stronger cats for having stuck to each other through that difficulty.
What would she have done without him, when one of their kits died? She could still feel that pain as raw as if it had been yesterday. Her throat tightened as she remembered the medicine cat taking away the tiny still form, as she curled more protectively than ever around the survivors of the illness.
And he had been at her side, not saying anything, because he too was grieving. There was nothing that could be said that the medicine cat had not. He was just there, and their understanding of each other’s grief gave them comfort. She was not alone. She wouldn’t ever face anything alone, because he loved her, and she him.
They had made each other a promise to always stay together, which was how they had come through so many arguments. It was only a part of feline nature to argue, but they carried on through it. Their love was a stable base to which they always came back.
She trusted in that, and let her head come to rest on his flank, where she could hear his breathing, and his heartbeat as well, if somewhat faintly because her ear lay farther away from his chest.
“I will love you forever,” she breathed, taking great effort to form the words.
She was old and failing, and so was he. They didn’t have much left of the vigor of their youth. But they had a lasting love, and that would sustain them until their time came to walk the stars – where they would once again meet, and be together forever, always at peace.
Author's notes: This was written in two sessions. I'm not sure what exactly inspired me. But I felt like this story wanted to be told.
The moonlight filtering through the branches of their den dappled her dull black pelt with silvery hues. Her fur wasn’t exactly black, anymore; she was so old that it had distinct brown undertones. Despite help from younger cats in grooming, that dull brownish fur formed clumps.
Yet he could remember when she was young, how her sleek black coat had gleamed in the sunshine. He remembered that it had once held the rich darkness of a raven’s feather. In his mind’s eye, he saw her running so swiftly that her fur was flattened against her face and sides.
She had always been able to sprint like a gust of wind. When they hunted together, he would marvel at her speed as she chased down a rabbit that he had flushed out of a bush. She would dash and tackle the rabbit, and moments later stand up triumphantly.
“We got it!” she would say. Never “I”, always “we”. That was the kind of humble cat she had been. Still was, in fact. Even if she was so frail now that she rarely stirred from her nest, she still had that same spirit of wanting to always treat every other cat as if they were the most important one in the world.
As he settled into the nest beside her, wincing at his arthritic joints, he thought of how she always greeted him with a cheerful chirp. But she didn’t have the same energy or vitality in her voice anymore; speech was an effort.
Her voice was still his favorite sound.
He remembered her tired but joyful purr when he came to meet their kits for the first time. There she was, curled around three precious little bundles of fur. He could see the pride, the happiness, the exhaustion, and the great love in her radiant green gaze.
She had such beautiful eyes. Even they had changed as well, with her great age. She couldn’t see him anymore, couldn’t see anything at all. He remembered when the first cloudiness had appeared in her eyes, and how it kept growing. All the while, she faced the loss of her vision with bravery. Now, her once jet-black pupils were opaque and milky, stretched so wide that only a thin rim of green was visible.
But those sightless eyes were still lovely pools of emotion; he could still see all of her feelings there.
“I will always love you,” he whispered into her ear as he curled closer to her sleeping form.
And he meant it sincerely. The love wasn’t the same as the thrilling emotion of the time when they decided to be mates, but it was more secure. He loved her, and she loved him, and that was something they could rely on because they knew each other so well. Not like the uncertainty of young love; theirs was firmly established, an enduring love.
“Enduring” was putting it lightly. They had had their fair share of squabbles, of course, and even had fallen out with each other once. But they always moved on, kept going, because they loved each other, and because they had promised to always support each other.
Even with her dull, clumpy fur, even with her frailty, even with her blindness, he thought she was lovely, because he loved her.
He drifted off to sleep, a faint purr vibrating in his throat.
~
She awoke before he did. Although she could no longer see the daylight, some internal clock told her it was daybreak. She lifted her head weakly and sniffed. He was right there beside her, his warm pelt pressing against her own.
His head was near hers, and she could detect the sickly odor of the thick drool that was a constant presence around his mouth now. She recalled how proud he had been of his whiskers and the fluffy ruff of fur on his neck, and how disappointed he must be that they were constantly smeared with saliva. He never complained to her, though; he cared enough about her that he didn’t want to draw attention to his own infirmities.
She would have liked to be able to fuss over him as he fussed over her now, like she always had when they were younger, but now their roles seemed reversed. Her whiskers brushed the edges of his ears, and she felt all the long-healed nicks and tears along their edges. Every time he was in a border skirmish, how she had worried over him! She would always clean the wounded ears so carefully, despite his protests that he liked how they made him look tough.
Yes, he had once been a strong cat. Moving her slightly wobbling head, she let her whiskers pass over his shoulders, feeling the atrophied muscles. There had been a time when those muscles were big and powerful, and he had been a feared warrior, but no longer. His arthritis made it too painful to move around enough to keep his strength.
His character remained strong as ever, though. He was brave and loyal and thoughtful, and so loving. She couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been there for her. It was true that there had once been a time when they had disagreed so strongly over something that they didn’t speak to each other for a few days, but that had been resolved, and together they had become stronger cats for having stuck to each other through that difficulty.
What would she have done without him, when one of their kits died? She could still feel that pain as raw as if it had been yesterday. Her throat tightened as she remembered the medicine cat taking away the tiny still form, as she curled more protectively than ever around the survivors of the illness.
And he had been at her side, not saying anything, because he too was grieving. There was nothing that could be said that the medicine cat had not. He was just there, and their understanding of each other’s grief gave them comfort. She was not alone. She wouldn’t ever face anything alone, because he loved her, and she him.
They had made each other a promise to always stay together, which was how they had come through so many arguments. It was only a part of feline nature to argue, but they carried on through it. Their love was a stable base to which they always came back.
She trusted in that, and let her head come to rest on his flank, where she could hear his breathing, and his heartbeat as well, if somewhat faintly because her ear lay farther away from his chest.
“I will love you forever,” she breathed, taking great effort to form the words.
She was old and failing, and so was he. They didn’t have much left of the vigor of their youth. But they had a lasting love, and that would sustain them until their time came to walk the stars – where they would once again meet, and be together forever, always at peace.
Author's notes: This was written in two sessions. I'm not sure what exactly inspired me. But I felt like this story wanted to be told.
