mister lonely xx part five up 11-13-17

[/a] by God is an Astronaut. No lyrics; just very powerful music.[/b]


[/i]Part 1
There it was. Ugly, snarling, and hungry. They surrounded it, claws at the ready, teeth bared. It met their challenge, eager to fight.

He was the first to break from the circle with a battle cry, prepared to kill. It met him with stained teeth at the ready, jaw stretched wide in a loud roar. The leap. Claws digging in, teeth snapping, he clung to it. Its muscular body tossing him off with ease. Yellowed fangs tearing into his throat. Pain, and ringing in his ears.

Silence.

Then birdsong, sweet and colorful. Chickadees and robins calling out, eager to find a mate. Wind gusting, joining in the chorus of chirps and whistles. Leaves on trees rustling, as if humming the tune. The sun warmed him and the earth below, creating a sensation of being cocooned. It was like being young again, tucked at his mother’s side.

He opened his eyes.

The sun caught him off guard, forcing him to squint. As his eyes adjusted to the exceptional light, he made a sweep of the area with his eyes. Around him, the leaves and branches cast a variety of playful shadows that danced to the song of the woods. With an exception for the birds that were heard, not seen, he was alone.

Carefully, he planted one paw into the soft but firm dirt, pushing up his body. His right leg was tucked underneath him, now buzzing as the numbness subsided. He must’ve been laying on it for some time. But how long? The tickling side effect in his leg was at full force as he stepped onto it, feeling no pain. He could breathe; proved by the fact that he was taking in deep yet short breaths, as if he had been running.

Where were they? His clanmates were gone. When they had left, it had been early morning. Dew had still clung to leaves, and a heavy fog was low but apparent. Dampness had seeped into their fur, making them chilly. Now he was completely dry, and the sun hung overhead, marking midday. What had once been comforting with its warmth was now causing him great discomfort. Thick fur was made for colder climates. Not wherever this place was.

Hello? He called out, but he did not hear himself. The only sound made was in his thoughts. And yet, around him, he could crunch the leaves. The birds sang on with their choir members. The dirt crumbled beneath his paws, creating a hushed sensation. Why could he not speak?

Tentatively, confused, he started forward, cautious as could be in this strange territory.

*

Part 2
It was quieter now. The birdsong had subsided, with only the occasional warble. Onward he trekked, mouth open, as he caught the scents around him. No prey. Only the birds which seemed to be like ghastly entities, hiding themselves. Surprisingly, he was not hungry. By the movement of the sun, he gauged that it had been several hours. Yet his muscles did not ache. His stomach did not grumble. Instead, he felt satisfied, as if he had just eaten a full meal.

Part of him wondered if he had been left to die. Certainly that badger had killed him with all its ferocity. And yet, there was no sign of blood where he had been. Not even the scent of cats or the predator. Instead, it smelled musty, and he wondered if he was still even in clan territory. In the forest surrounding the mountains, it was often wet, but it would usually dry up by midday. He was painfully aware of the humid air that made him feel sunken like a rock in water. He longed to be back at the base of the mountain where they camped. It was cool and dry, making it an ideal place for those with thick fur.

These certainly were the woods where they hunted. He recognized a burnt out tree where a family of owls roosted. But this was on the far side of the territory. They hadn’t even been out that far when they had gone hunting. No evidence of cat life was around here. Not even the stale scent of the morning patrol.

He picked up his pace, now at a jogging speed, desperate to find his way home. Part of him burned with fury at the thought of his clanmates abandoning him. Another part was turned around and completely lost, feeling no hope. Was he dead?

The thought made him stop suddenly, saving him from toppling over a stunted sapling that had long since given up on growing. Was this what death felt like? Lost in your own home, unable to find your way out? The healer had talked so long of a wondrous paradise for the deceased, filled with prey that practically ran into your claws. He claimed to have visited there. And yet, no prey was here. He could not see nor hear starry cats greeting him.

So much for the spirits they worshiped.

*

Part 3
How long had it been?

The journey back to his clan had proven desolate. Shadows that had seemed friendly and playful now became monsters creeping, ready to eat him if he fell asleep. The endless energy had vanished, leaving behind aching legs and a hollow feeling in his stomach.

How long had it been since he had eaten?

Rabbits became more apparent as he traveled farther in to the territory: fat, much bigger than a normal rabbit. But much faster, too. Even if he was able to sneak up on the animal, it would catch wind of him and seemingly fly away, paws pumping as it bolted into the trees and disappeared. Frustration mingled with hunger and created a monstrous attitude in him.

To make matters worse, the sounds of the forest were gone. He had noticed the gradual fading of the birds and wind, but paid no mind to it. Now, it was completely gone. No crunching noises under his paws. The forest choir had vanished. He felt vulnerable, not being able to hear. Every little movement made him jump, paranoia setting in heavily. This must be what it’s like being deaf. How a cat could deal with it, he would never know. The lack of noise combined with the unearthly rabbits began to wear him down. His mind felt fuzzy and empty. He wanted to feel prey beneath his claws, but he just couldn’t. He was subject to fits of anger towards others, especially when an easy catch got away. But now, a fury burned in him like no other.

Why am I here? His teeth tore into a dandelion and he shredded it, sending bits of green and sticky yellow everywhere. I don’t deserve this. He was aware of screaming, full of rage. Though it was not physically audible, it was in his head.

He turned from plants to tree bark, finding it more durable to tearing and wishing for just a moment to take out his anger on something. Splinters tore into his gums and paws, but he kept clawing, the pain causing his thoughts to become fuzzy. He was aware of blood beginning to ooze from his mouth and paws, staining the ground and his fur.

A shiny beetle scurried past him as he laid there in the sun. It paused a moment at his nose, studying him, before moving on, uninterested. He wanted to move. He wanted to get up and get out of the sun. But for what purpose? Whatever brought him here obviously wanted him alive and suffering. He had been unable to find food or water, and yet he was alive, though hungry and parched. He had walked for so long, and yet he was not dead, but rather exhausted. He could not sleep, and… well, he might have been losing his mind.

For the first time since the forest’s song when he had arrived, he heard something moving in the bushes ahead. A scent, warm and clean, flooded his nose, making him realize how much he missed smelling things. The bushes were pushed aside with an oversized white paw. Alright, I’m definitely losing my mind.

From the bushes stepped a cat, alive and well.

*

Part 4
Her smell was crisp, like leaves that had dried and fallen to the ground. She moved quickly, but she seemed to have an awkward gait, as if she had not walked for a long time. When she saw him lying there, her paws thumped against the ground as she raced over to him.

I can hear again. His delight at the gift of sound coming back to him was multiplied when she spoke.

“Oh, no. You’re really hurt. Oh, that’s not good.” She stepped around him as she spoke, nervous and jumpy. She stopped in front of his face and looked down at him, then gently reached a paw out to his mouth. “You’re bleeding badly. Here, I can help with that.”

I can hear again.

Though her paws were rather large, she was precise in her work. She darted back and forth between what he had hoped to be his final resting place and the surrounding trees; she soon had a large pile of moss to place underneath his head as a prop. Her voice was soothing and quiet, with a rough edge to it. He noted the fact that, if she was like him, she had not spoken for the entirety of her time here.

She chattered while she worked, mirroring his own feelings at finding another cat in a desolate land. What he once would’ve found obnoxious was like hearing his long-deceased mother’s voice again. “I’m having trouble believing what I’m seeing,” she murmured. “I haven’t seen another cat for so long. I’ve been here for a long time. What about you? How long have you been here?”

He stared at her, hoping to communicate the fact that with a mouthful of splinters, he couldn’t answer her many questions.

“Oh, sorry again.” She winced. “I tend to forget about things quickly. Or I just don’t think. Or… yeah.” She let out a purr which vibrated into her paws as she carefully removed splinter after splinter. “Sorry. It’s just been such a long time since I’ve had someone to talk to about anything! Rabbits that run away aren’t exactly the best company. It is so wonderful to meet you. I swear, I was losing my sanity…” She babbled on about everything under the sun while working, taking her time and letting him rest whenever she removed a deep splinter that caused a bout of pain.

What would’ve been an excruciatingly painful task for him to complete resulted in minimal agony as the she-cat worked. With paws that were both fast and cautious, she removed each splinter from his mouth, carefully taking a piece of moss and dabbing away blood as she worked. And as she continued on, she sang.

He had never heard a cat sing before. While the birds whistled tunes, they did not have words to them. This cat seemingly pulled a tune out of nowhere and added words to it, creating a playful song that reminded him of better days.

The flowers in full bloom
Goodbye, winter’s gloom
A song of lilies on the breeze

The birds chirping their tunes
A warm afternoon
No longer will we all freeze

Spring bursts forth with her song
Let us join along
Beside each other in and seize

These beautiful days
Of spring!

When she finished her song, she wiped the blood from his muzzle and sat back. “All done,” she said, wiping her paws on the grass. The once glossy white fur was now stained crimson. “You should be able to talk now. I’d offer you some water, but that would be an impossible task to find some.” She frowned, her eyes losing that youthful glow and taking on a look of ire.

He licked his lips, the taste of blood still in his mouth. As he went to push himself up, he hissed in pain when the splinters in his paws dug in deeper. “Oh, I am so sorry!” she mewed. “I thought you knew. I wanted you to do that yourself, since it would be a lot easier for you. There aren’t that many. Just a few big ones.”

He nodded, clenching his eyes shut as the splinters caused his paws to sting. Once the pain subsided into a dull ache, he began to pull them out one by one. He was relieved that there were only a few as the other cat had stated before.

When he finished, he wiped the blood off on the ground, the pain ebbing away. “You have a lovely voice,” he croaked after he had finished. “I have never heard another cat sing before.” Nor had he seen one with a pelt like hers. It was an unusual red-russet mix, reminding him of the sunset. All over, it was interrupted by clean white in patches, giving her a patchwork appearance. Her paws were dappled up the legs with creamy white spots, creating a fade from the dark russet to gentle white.

“Oh. Thank you.” She bowed her hand and purred, seeming embarrassed but pleased. “I haven’t sung in a long time, but I’m glad I still have my voice. I was told it was a rare gift, but something that I should take advantage of. I’m glad you like my voice.” She hesitated before adding, “I’m Reedpaw, by the way.”

Only an apprentice? How long had she been here? Reedpaw was no longer the appropriate size for an apprentice; instead, she was as big as an adult.

“I’m Snakefang,” he murmured. “It’s good to meet you. And thank you, for what you did for me.”

“No problem at all,” she said, rising to her paws. “Nice to meet you, Snakefang. Now, then. What’s your story?”

*

Part 5
“Did you grow up in RidgeClan?” he questioned.

Reedpaw hummed a moment, her brow furrowed as she considered the question. “Ridge… clan?” she mused. “No, I didn’t. I… I don’t even know what that is. I’m sorry.” She shifted in the nest they had made together under the trees.

How old is she? Snakefang couldn’t remember hearing a story from the elders about the founding of RidgeClan, and they had seen so much. What puzzled the tom the most was her name. She claimed to not have grown up in a clan, and yet she had a clan name. “What about your name? Aren’t you an apprentice?” he pressed. “In RidgeClan, our apprentices have paw at the end of their name.”

“Oh. Well, I mean, I wasn’t part of a fancy clan, but I did live with my family. My dad named me Reedpaw after my mom. She died from a sickness before I was born. Her name was Reed.” With a melancholy purr, she noted, “He added paw to it because my paws were so big. They still are.” She held one paw up to her face, and joked, “See how big they are compared to me? They’re freakishly huge. I could knock a cat out just by giving him a smack to the face.”

Her companion let out a hoarse chuckle. “They’re not that bad.” He looked down at his own paws, which were smaller than his. “Well… maybe.” She responded with a gentle cuff to his ear, and he rolled away with a playful growl.

“Alright, settle,” Reedpaw commanded. “C’mon. I want to know more about you. Tell me.” She shifted her paws underneath her chest as he settled back in next to her. “I assume you grew up in this RidgeClan. What was life like?”

“It was alright.” He paused, mulling over memories from his kithood to the time of what he figured to be his death. “I had a dad and mom. My dad was busy, so I didn’t see him much, but my mom always took care of me.”

“Did you have any siblings?” Reedpaw asked.

“Three older siblings from a different litter,” he said. “They didn’t have the same dad as me, and they were a lot older, so we avoided each other. I didn’t have any littermates, so I mainly played with the other kits.” A memory of warriors versus badgers made him chuckle. “We would pretend to fight badgers. My best friend, Mockingsong, always liked to be the badger. She looked like one, too. Her face had this weird split of fur color, so that half was white and half was black. It was cool. Plus, she had extra toes on her paws.”

“Oh, weird,” the russet-and-white cat breathed. “I had a brother who was like that, with the extra toes. How cool!”

“Definitely,” he agreed. “But, yeah. I had a pretty normal life. I trained, I grew, and I matured. When I earned my name, I was so proud of myself.”

“So you were Snakepaw pretty much your whole life?” she questioned.

“Well, Snakekit until I hit 6 moons. Then I was Snakepaw for another 6 moons. And now I’m Snakefang.” He purred. “I think it’s obvious how I got that name.” He motioned to the tooth jutting over his lip.

“I figured that out,” she said. “Wow. That sounds awesome. I wish I could’ve been a part of that.” Her eyes glazed over as she stared at a tree across the clearing. “Imagine me fighting badgers. How cool would that be?” Shaking her head, she sighed. “Alright, you told me about life in RidgeClan, so that was cool. Now, want to know anything about me?”

“How old are you?” He blurted the question, eager to know. If RidgeClan had not existed, she must’ve been quite old. “Or, I mean… how long have you been here?”

“Well, I was at least 12 moons when I came here,” she said. “Then I started keeping track of the seasons in here. And yes, the seasons do eventually change. I think time passes normally, but the sun just doesn’t move. You don’t really need to sleep, though.”

“Alright, but how many seasons have passed since you got here?” he questioned.

“Quite a few. Each season lasts about three moons, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ve been here at least 150 moons.”[/font][/ul]

[/b]
~Sapphire~
mintedstar/fur[/ul][/font]