Post by FåwnFrøst on Jun 11, 2017 21:27:49 GMT -5
Dwindling Flame
One-shot by FåwnFrøst
“Mother, you can’t put yourself through this anymore.”
Emberheart shook her head, ignoring the pitying gaze spared by her daughter. She coughed once more, a hacking, wet, awful cough, then straightened, turning towards her daughter.
“I’m fine,” She wheezed, wincing at the frailness she could hear in her own voice. “I can still hunt as well as I used to.”
Emberheart could see it in Amberpelt’s green eyes, the unspoken message: you can’t. And she couldn’t. She knew it, and she was getting tired of the sad glances her clanmates gave her when she limped into camp. She wasn’t meant for this anymore, and, as much as she hated to admit it, she was growing, well . . . old.
Almost every time they went hunting together now, Amberpelt had had this conversation with her. “You need to go to the elder’s den,” She’d say, regarding her with sadness, like she was a treasure that had been broken. Emberheart never wanted to go to the elder’s den, if it meant her daughter would look at her like that for the rest of her life.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like the elders -- some of them she had been friends with -- or even the fact that she wouldn’t be able to hunt for herself anymore, it was that she was scared. She was scared of telling stories to the kits, that all she’d be remembered for was her laziness in the elder’s den. She was scared that nobody would remember the vivacious warrior she had once been, trading the image out for the tired cat she was now.
Sighing, Emberheart glanced towards where her mouse had run off, turning towards Amberpelt, who had caught a crow already. “I’ll go back to camp, then,” She said, not waiting to see if her daughter would follow.
And she walked, not towards the camp, but up the path towards the river, the little bubbling brook that she used to hunt next to with her mate. He was gone now. This past winter, killed by greencough like she likely would this year, too frail to go on.
He, too, had told her to move to the elder’s den where she could be taken care of.
Like I’m a kit, pitiful and weak, too small to live on my own, she thought, startling herself with the malice in her own thoughts.
She stopped at the pale, smooth water of the stream, and she saw, as she always did, why her clanmates wanted her to go. Even I can see it, what I’ve been reduced to.
Her smoke-colored fur was peppered through with white, spots around her muzzle, where there had been white before, now turning dull, off-white. Her whole pelt had lost its youthful shine, even the red-orange spots on her back and face for which she had been named diminished to pale, lackluster patches of drab color. It seemed even her fur had lost its will to live, hanging off her now-skinny frame like moss off a tree branch.
Even my eyes look old, Emberheart thought, staring at her reflection. Her amber eyes looked as old as she felt, smile lines crinkling the corners like paper. She looked tired, even to herself.
“Mother.”
Emberheart sighed. “Amberpelt, I --”
“You’re not okay, mother.” She gave her a small smile. “I can see it in those world-weary eyes of yours.”
Emberheart nodded, sighing once more and looking back at her reflection.
“Why don’t you want to go, mother? It would be so much easier on everyone. Especially for you.”
“I’m. . . scared.” She looked at her daughter’s reflection, afraid to look her in the eyes. Her beautiful daughter, who would soon be lost to her when she was gone.
“Of dying?”
She almost didn’t want to admit it. “Of being forgotten.”
Amberpelt leaned into her mother’s shoulder, smiling. “I’ll never forget you. My kits won’t either.”
Emberheart froze, and Amberpelt blinked up at her, waiting for the implications of that to sink in. Her kits. . . She doesn’t have. . . She’s going to have kits!
“Oh! That’s wonderful!” Emberheart said, for once the weariness of her age peeling away into excitement, which quickly faded again. “Yet I may not be able to see them.” She whispered solemnly.
“Mother, you don’t mean that.” It was a statement, not a question, pleading in its regard.
Emberheart looked away, getting up from her spot on the rock beside her daughter.
“I do, daughter.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She said not another word, walking now towards camp as she had intended, aware of Amberpelt walking beside her and the sorrowful gaze drilling holes in the back of her head like a stubborn woodpecker.
Emberheart didn’t want to mean it, not really, but she knew it was almost time for her to go. The world was changing, and she simply couldn’t keep up anymore. When she walked now, she could almost feel her bones creaking, like old oak boughs swinging in the wind. Her strength had all but disappeared, not from lack of exercise, but from her old age. It was as if a fire had died within her, as if her name had become literal and her life had but a spark left. A faint glow, an ember, barely there, and she knew it wouldn’t hold on much longer.
Maybe I should go to the elder's den. She thought, dreading to think about it. Perhaps I might then live long enough to see my daughter's kits.
That, and she didn't want to be remembered as the stubborn old she-cat who had killed herself from working too hard and not moving to the elders den.
“I’ll go,” she said quietly, and Amberpelt looked like a startled bird.
“What? But you--”
“I don’t want to die without seeing your kits,” Emberheart conceded, flicking her tail. “I want to see you all grown up, Amberpelt.”
Amberpelt nodded, and Emberheart could see that her daughter was relieved. Almost to tears, in fact.
“You go eat something,” Emberheart admonished. “I’ll talk to Creekstar.”
As expected, Creekstar was in his den, chatting with Blackmask, the deputy. She nosed her way into the den, cautiously stepping up to the leader. “Creekstar, may I have a word?”
Creekstar stood up, stretching his long legs. “Of course,” He said, nodding to Blackmask, who slipped out of the den. “I’m assuming this is what Amberpelt came to me about? I did say that moving you to easier patrols would be fine, but I never did act on that, as she only asked a few days ago. I can --”
“Amberpelt came to you?” She knew her daughter was worried about her, but she hadn’t known that she had asked for her to have her patrols switched. Emberpelt’s shock melted into pride for Amberpelt, knowing that she cared so much. She shook her head. “That wasn’t what I came here for, actually.”
Creekstar nodded, urging her to go on.
“I. . . I’d like to be moved to the elder’s den. If that’s okay, of course.” She looked down at her white-speckled paws.
“Absolutely, Emberheart.” Creekstar said, “We’ll have the ceremony in a few minutes, if that’s alright with you.”
“Cats of Jadeclan, we are here today to acknowledge the wishes of Emberheart, a brave, selfless warrior who fought hard and cared for her clan even more.” Creekstar paused, looking towards Emberheart with a smile on his face, the same smile her daughter wore in the crowd of cats, her green eyes gleaming.
“She had finally come to her senses,” He joked, before becoming serious once again, “And is now joining the elder’s den, where she will finish her life with the care of her clanmates, the same care she once showed them.”
“Emberheart!” Her clanmates cheered her name, their voices blowing through the air like sparks off a rekindled flame.
This will be a welcome change, she realized, smiling as she walked into her new den, her old friends welcoming her back to a world she hadn't realized she had left behind. A good change.
Maybe I should go to the elder's den. She thought, dreading to think about it. Perhaps I might then live long enough to see my daughter's kits.
That, and she didn't want to be remembered as the stubborn old she-cat who had killed herself from working too hard and not moving to the elders den.
“I’ll go,” she said quietly, and Amberpelt looked like a startled bird.
“What? But you--”
“I don’t want to die without seeing your kits,” Emberheart conceded, flicking her tail. “I want to see you all grown up, Amberpelt.”
Amberpelt nodded, and Emberheart could see that her daughter was relieved. Almost to tears, in fact.
“You go eat something,” Emberheart admonished. “I’ll talk to Creekstar.”
As expected, Creekstar was in his den, chatting with Blackmask, the deputy. She nosed her way into the den, cautiously stepping up to the leader. “Creekstar, may I have a word?”
Creekstar stood up, stretching his long legs. “Of course,” He said, nodding to Blackmask, who slipped out of the den. “I’m assuming this is what Amberpelt came to me about? I did say that moving you to easier patrols would be fine, but I never did act on that, as she only asked a few days ago. I can --”
“Amberpelt came to you?” She knew her daughter was worried about her, but she hadn’t known that she had asked for her to have her patrols switched. Emberpelt’s shock melted into pride for Amberpelt, knowing that she cared so much. She shook her head. “That wasn’t what I came here for, actually.”
Creekstar nodded, urging her to go on.
“I. . . I’d like to be moved to the elder’s den. If that’s okay, of course.” She looked down at her white-speckled paws.
“Absolutely, Emberheart.” Creekstar said, “We’ll have the ceremony in a few minutes, if that’s alright with you.”
“Cats of Jadeclan, we are here today to acknowledge the wishes of Emberheart, a brave, selfless warrior who fought hard and cared for her clan even more.” Creekstar paused, looking towards Emberheart with a smile on his face, the same smile her daughter wore in the crowd of cats, her green eyes gleaming.
“She had finally come to her senses,” He joked, before becoming serious once again, “And is now joining the elder’s den, where she will finish her life with the care of her clanmates, the same care she once showed them.”
“Emberheart!” Her clanmates cheered her name, their voices blowing through the air like sparks off a rekindled flame.
This will be a welcome change, she realized, smiling as she walked into her new den, her old friends welcoming her back to a world she hadn't realized she had left behind. A good change.
This is for the tuesday challenges, where the prompt of the week was change, preferably natural change. In case you hadn't figured it out, the change was Emberheart getting old. I hope you liked it!
if that was unintentional, own it haha!