Post by ~Sapphire~ on May 3, 2017 8:13:26 GMT -5
Hey! This is a snippet of an AU I've been playing around with, one that I might develop into a full story. The basic premise is that Leafpool and Crowfeather left the Clans for good, and it's set around The Fourth Apprentice/Fading Echoes. I just want to hear people's thoughts on this, really.
Three figures - golden, black and grey - stand together on a ridge overlooking the lake.
It’s been almost eight seasons since Crowfeather’s mate died giving birth, out on the lonely moor. The moor is browner and duller now, even more so than during that long-ago leaf-fall, parched by the drought and battered by the storm that came after it. Crowfeather’s faded blue eyes have lost the last of their brightness. The only colour on the moor, in several senses, is the kits. Grown cats now, older than Leafpool was when she fled to the moor to be with Crowfeather.
Holly doesn’t remember her mother - her eyes weren’t even open when Leafpool passed away. All she knows is what Crowfeather can tell her, and her father rarely likes to talk about his lost mate; a question asked at the wrong time can send him into a downward spiral of silence and irritability that he might not surface from for days. Holly has long since learned to wait for Crowfeather to volunteer information, however frustratingly long that might take.
Lion won’t talk about Leafpool either, but Jay says he can remember her, just the faintest impression of warm fur and a soft voice. Holly’s argued with him about this, but he remains firm. He says he recognises her from his dreams.
Most of the time, Holly is okay with not having a mother. Maybe it’d be nice to have another cat to go to when she argues with Crowfeather, or - StarClan forfend - to give her advice about toms, but, well, it’s not like Holly ever had that in her life. It’s not like there’s anyone concrete for her to miss. She and her siblings and her father survive just fine. She’s determined about that.
“We’ve been talking,” Holly announces one night, as the four of them are sharing a rabbit at the mouth of the abandoned foxhole they use as a den. “Me and Lion and Jay. We’ve decided we want to leave.”
Crowfeather spits out a bite of rabbit. “Why? Where to?”
“The moor’s going to be hard to live off this leafbare, after the summer we’ve had,” Jay says. “And it’s not exactly… exciting. If we went away over leafbare, it’d be good experience, we’d be better fed, and we can come back when the prey does in newleaf.”
“There's nowhere for you to go,” Crowfeather says, discouragingly. “Everywhere the prey runs well, cats or other animals have already claimed it.”
“If we keep moving, we won't need to take much from any one place,” Lion says.
“If you keep moving, you’ll wear yourselves out by travelling, and freeze to death in the first snow.”
“So we might as well freeze to death up here, then?” Holly demands. Lion frowns at her, a warning. If you lose your temper, Crowfeather will never agree.
“Stop being dramatic,” Crowfeather says. “We are not going to freeze to death.”
“We’re as likely to die here as anywhere else,” Holly says, regardless of Lion’s glare.
“We’re not likely to die anywhere,” Jay says firmly. “Happy?”
“That’s not the point,” Crowfeather says. “The point is, I’m not sure the three of you are sensible enough -” he looks pointedly at Holly - “to wander off on your own.”
“Why not?” Holly asks, goaded beyond reason. “You managed. You and Leafpool.”
Jay nudges Lion, both toms watching Crowfeather warily. She’s crossed a line, and they all know it.
“That was completely different,” Crowfeather says at last, enunciating each word carefully as if to keep from shouting. “And don’t insinuate that we didn’t - she didn’t-” He stands abruptly, and stalks away from the den, into the night. “I’ll be back soon. Lion, you’re in charge.”
“Well,” Jay says, as their father’s form vanishes into the darkness. “That went well.”
“Sorry,” Holly mutters.
“You should be. What made you mention-?”
“We should’ve known he’d react like that,” Lion says diplomatically. “Let’s bury the rest of this rabbit. I want to get to bed.”
They curl up in their respective nests, but Holly struggles to fall asleep. Crowfeather’s nest by the den’s entrance lies starkly empty, a constant reminder of their quarrel. She’s screwed it all up, sabotaged a moon of careful planning with one thoughtless remark. The chances that Crowfeather will let them leave after this are next to nothing. He hates being reminded of Leafpool, and using her name in an argument with him is a sure way to lose it. She replays the fight in her mind, seeing a thousand ways she could’ve de-escalated, talked down, just plain shut up. It seems like this is the only way she knows to act with Crowfeather, these days - one of the reasons, though she hates to admit it, that Holly is so anxious to leave the moor.
She glances towards her brothers. Jay’s head is turned towards the earth wall of the den, obscuring his face, but on his other side Lion’s eyes glint as he shifts position restlessly. The silence inside the den is oppressive.
Eventually Crowfeather returns, stalking straight to his nest without whispering a greeting. But Holly’s eyes still don’t close until the sun has already stretched its rays above the horizon.
Crowfeather doesn't raise the issue of them leaving in the next few days, and although Holly appears to be forgiven for the Leafpool comment, she assumes they've lost any chance of their trip. Morosely, she and Jay begin the task of weatherproofing the den for leafbare. The days are shortening rapidly; on the lofty, windswept moor, it won't be long before the frosts start.
“I’d like to talk to you three,” Crowfeather says, when Holly’s just about resigned herself to the moor again. “About the other night.”
Holly scans his expression warily. “I’m really sorry-” she begins.
“I know,” Crowfeather says. “I'm sorry, too. I ought to have listened to you more carefully. Maybe it is unfair to keep you up here.”
“You're letting us go?” Holly gasps. Lion and Jay, beside her, look equally shocked. Crowfeather never goes back on a decision, not with regard to his kits. Consistency, he believes, is everything.
Sure enough, Crowfeather’s next words are, “No, I meant what I said about your plan being harebrained. Would you really wander around all leafbare, being chased out of everywhere?”
Holly’s eyes narrow; they spent hours discussing their plan, basing it off information they’d gleaned from other travelling rogues who passed over the moor. It’s perfectly sound. But with the memory of the argument still fresh, she holds her tongue. “What did you want to tell us, then?” Jay asks.
“There is somewhere you can go, if you’re really set on leaving,” Crowfeather says. “The Clans.”
“But you hate the Clans,” Lion says.
Holly racks her brains, trying to remember everything Crowfeather’s said about the group of cats him and Leafpool grew up with. It's not much, and none of it positive. “Didn't you and Leafpool get chased out ‘cause you fell in love?
Crowfeather huffs. “I didn’t say I wanted you to go there. I said I'd take that over you not having a home all leafbare.”
“You're serious?” Jay asks, his clouded blue eyes narrowed.
“You'll have somewhere to sleep,” Crowfeather says wearily. “You'll have to work hard to keep it; maybe that'll help you to grow up a bit. Or I'm perfectly happy for you to stay here.”
“We'll go,” Holly says quickly. “Won't we?” She feels a pang of guilt at the lost expression that briefly crosses Crowfeather’s face, but the opportunity, even as it is, is too good to miss.
We'll see you in the greenleaf, I promise.
Lion and Jay nod, more hesitantly, and Crowfeather composes his expression again. And the leafbare reshapes itself before their eyes. Plans are redesigned and advice is given. Extra prey is caught in preparation for the long journey, and Crowfeather makes use of Leafpool’s old lessons to find a selection of travelling herbs. Goodbyes are said, both to Crowfeather and to the moor, all the old haunts where Holly, Lion and Jay have grown up visiting.
And that is how Holly, Lion and Jay come to be on the ridge above Clan territory a quarter moon later, gazing down at the lake below.
“It’s so huge,” Lion murmurs. Jay prods him, his usual way of asking for a description of the territory, and Lion gives it to him, mentioning the vast, blue lake, already well recovered from the drought, and the four different territories spreading out around it. ThunderClan’s oaks and ShadowClan’s pines, all as tiny as blades of grass, RiverClan’s streams and wetlands, and - closest to them - WindClan’s moor. This is where, if the Clans accept them, the littermates will spend their leafbare.
Holly feels a growing sense of excitement. The lake territories, at this moment, hold everything: new challenges for Lion, new knowledge for Jay. New cats to get to know, albeit evil true-love-denying Clan cats. Among this newness, maybe Holly will be able to find her place better than on the well-known moor.
Crowfeather has travelled with them this far, on the pretext of showing them the way. Now, however, he has to turn back; he may have resigned himself to his kits staying in the Clans, but he himself doesn’t want to go anywhere near them. “Look after yourself,” Holly tells him in a rush of anxiety. “Don’t get too lonely. We’ll be back.”
Crowfeather nods wordlessly. Holly hopes she can see pride in her father’s washed-out blue eyes, as well as loss. Lion and Jay join them for a final goodbye, and then Crowfeather is gone, bounding across the moorland back towards home.
There’s a pause, then Holly turns back to her brothers. “What are you waiting for? We can’t stand here gawping all day. If we hurry, we should be there before sunset.”
Three figures - golden, black and grey - stand together on a ridge overlooking the lake.
It’s been almost eight seasons since Crowfeather’s mate died giving birth, out on the lonely moor. The moor is browner and duller now, even more so than during that long-ago leaf-fall, parched by the drought and battered by the storm that came after it. Crowfeather’s faded blue eyes have lost the last of their brightness. The only colour on the moor, in several senses, is the kits. Grown cats now, older than Leafpool was when she fled to the moor to be with Crowfeather.
Holly doesn’t remember her mother - her eyes weren’t even open when Leafpool passed away. All she knows is what Crowfeather can tell her, and her father rarely likes to talk about his lost mate; a question asked at the wrong time can send him into a downward spiral of silence and irritability that he might not surface from for days. Holly has long since learned to wait for Crowfeather to volunteer information, however frustratingly long that might take.
Lion won’t talk about Leafpool either, but Jay says he can remember her, just the faintest impression of warm fur and a soft voice. Holly’s argued with him about this, but he remains firm. He says he recognises her from his dreams.
Most of the time, Holly is okay with not having a mother. Maybe it’d be nice to have another cat to go to when she argues with Crowfeather, or - StarClan forfend - to give her advice about toms, but, well, it’s not like Holly ever had that in her life. It’s not like there’s anyone concrete for her to miss. She and her siblings and her father survive just fine. She’s determined about that.
“We’ve been talking,” Holly announces one night, as the four of them are sharing a rabbit at the mouth of the abandoned foxhole they use as a den. “Me and Lion and Jay. We’ve decided we want to leave.”
Crowfeather spits out a bite of rabbit. “Why? Where to?”
“The moor’s going to be hard to live off this leafbare, after the summer we’ve had,” Jay says. “And it’s not exactly… exciting. If we went away over leafbare, it’d be good experience, we’d be better fed, and we can come back when the prey does in newleaf.”
“There's nowhere for you to go,” Crowfeather says, discouragingly. “Everywhere the prey runs well, cats or other animals have already claimed it.”
“If we keep moving, we won't need to take much from any one place,” Lion says.
“If you keep moving, you’ll wear yourselves out by travelling, and freeze to death in the first snow.”
“So we might as well freeze to death up here, then?” Holly demands. Lion frowns at her, a warning. If you lose your temper, Crowfeather will never agree.
“Stop being dramatic,” Crowfeather says. “We are not going to freeze to death.”
“We’re as likely to die here as anywhere else,” Holly says, regardless of Lion’s glare.
“We’re not likely to die anywhere,” Jay says firmly. “Happy?”
“That’s not the point,” Crowfeather says. “The point is, I’m not sure the three of you are sensible enough -” he looks pointedly at Holly - “to wander off on your own.”
“Why not?” Holly asks, goaded beyond reason. “You managed. You and Leafpool.”
Jay nudges Lion, both toms watching Crowfeather warily. She’s crossed a line, and they all know it.
“That was completely different,” Crowfeather says at last, enunciating each word carefully as if to keep from shouting. “And don’t insinuate that we didn’t - she didn’t-” He stands abruptly, and stalks away from the den, into the night. “I’ll be back soon. Lion, you’re in charge.”
“Well,” Jay says, as their father’s form vanishes into the darkness. “That went well.”
“Sorry,” Holly mutters.
“You should be. What made you mention-?”
“We should’ve known he’d react like that,” Lion says diplomatically. “Let’s bury the rest of this rabbit. I want to get to bed.”
They curl up in their respective nests, but Holly struggles to fall asleep. Crowfeather’s nest by the den’s entrance lies starkly empty, a constant reminder of their quarrel. She’s screwed it all up, sabotaged a moon of careful planning with one thoughtless remark. The chances that Crowfeather will let them leave after this are next to nothing. He hates being reminded of Leafpool, and using her name in an argument with him is a sure way to lose it. She replays the fight in her mind, seeing a thousand ways she could’ve de-escalated, talked down, just plain shut up. It seems like this is the only way she knows to act with Crowfeather, these days - one of the reasons, though she hates to admit it, that Holly is so anxious to leave the moor.
She glances towards her brothers. Jay’s head is turned towards the earth wall of the den, obscuring his face, but on his other side Lion’s eyes glint as he shifts position restlessly. The silence inside the den is oppressive.
Eventually Crowfeather returns, stalking straight to his nest without whispering a greeting. But Holly’s eyes still don’t close until the sun has already stretched its rays above the horizon.
Crowfeather doesn't raise the issue of them leaving in the next few days, and although Holly appears to be forgiven for the Leafpool comment, she assumes they've lost any chance of their trip. Morosely, she and Jay begin the task of weatherproofing the den for leafbare. The days are shortening rapidly; on the lofty, windswept moor, it won't be long before the frosts start.
“I’d like to talk to you three,” Crowfeather says, when Holly’s just about resigned herself to the moor again. “About the other night.”
Holly scans his expression warily. “I’m really sorry-” she begins.
“I know,” Crowfeather says. “I'm sorry, too. I ought to have listened to you more carefully. Maybe it is unfair to keep you up here.”
“You're letting us go?” Holly gasps. Lion and Jay, beside her, look equally shocked. Crowfeather never goes back on a decision, not with regard to his kits. Consistency, he believes, is everything.
Sure enough, Crowfeather’s next words are, “No, I meant what I said about your plan being harebrained. Would you really wander around all leafbare, being chased out of everywhere?”
Holly’s eyes narrow; they spent hours discussing their plan, basing it off information they’d gleaned from other travelling rogues who passed over the moor. It’s perfectly sound. But with the memory of the argument still fresh, she holds her tongue. “What did you want to tell us, then?” Jay asks.
“There is somewhere you can go, if you’re really set on leaving,” Crowfeather says. “The Clans.”
“But you hate the Clans,” Lion says.
Holly racks her brains, trying to remember everything Crowfeather’s said about the group of cats him and Leafpool grew up with. It's not much, and none of it positive. “Didn't you and Leafpool get chased out ‘cause you fell in love?
Crowfeather huffs. “I didn’t say I wanted you to go there. I said I'd take that over you not having a home all leafbare.”
“You're serious?” Jay asks, his clouded blue eyes narrowed.
“You'll have somewhere to sleep,” Crowfeather says wearily. “You'll have to work hard to keep it; maybe that'll help you to grow up a bit. Or I'm perfectly happy for you to stay here.”
“We'll go,” Holly says quickly. “Won't we?” She feels a pang of guilt at the lost expression that briefly crosses Crowfeather’s face, but the opportunity, even as it is, is too good to miss.
We'll see you in the greenleaf, I promise.
Lion and Jay nod, more hesitantly, and Crowfeather composes his expression again. And the leafbare reshapes itself before their eyes. Plans are redesigned and advice is given. Extra prey is caught in preparation for the long journey, and Crowfeather makes use of Leafpool’s old lessons to find a selection of travelling herbs. Goodbyes are said, both to Crowfeather and to the moor, all the old haunts where Holly, Lion and Jay have grown up visiting.
And that is how Holly, Lion and Jay come to be on the ridge above Clan territory a quarter moon later, gazing down at the lake below.
“It’s so huge,” Lion murmurs. Jay prods him, his usual way of asking for a description of the territory, and Lion gives it to him, mentioning the vast, blue lake, already well recovered from the drought, and the four different territories spreading out around it. ThunderClan’s oaks and ShadowClan’s pines, all as tiny as blades of grass, RiverClan’s streams and wetlands, and - closest to them - WindClan’s moor. This is where, if the Clans accept them, the littermates will spend their leafbare.
Holly feels a growing sense of excitement. The lake territories, at this moment, hold everything: new challenges for Lion, new knowledge for Jay. New cats to get to know, albeit evil true-love-denying Clan cats. Among this newness, maybe Holly will be able to find her place better than on the well-known moor.
Crowfeather has travelled with them this far, on the pretext of showing them the way. Now, however, he has to turn back; he may have resigned himself to his kits staying in the Clans, but he himself doesn’t want to go anywhere near them. “Look after yourself,” Holly tells him in a rush of anxiety. “Don’t get too lonely. We’ll be back.”
Crowfeather nods wordlessly. Holly hopes she can see pride in her father’s washed-out blue eyes, as well as loss. Lion and Jay join them for a final goodbye, and then Crowfeather is gone, bounding across the moorland back towards home.
There’s a pause, then Holly turns back to her brothers. “What are you waiting for? We can’t stand here gawping all day. If we hurry, we should be there before sunset.”
