Faustian | warrior cats

xviii | the first night

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THE drowsy sun descended from its flight in the sky, settling down into its nest to welcome in the night. It stretched out its tired wings for one last time, feathers of dusk and orange swaying down to color the sky.

The sunset-coated she-cat held her head up longingly, though her eyes did not rest along the sleeping sun. Instead, they swooped down lower to look at a tree's branch. Sitting on the limb was a little nest being held strongly together with twigs and autumn leaves. It was homely but hollow. Where was its bird? Curiosity sparked in her mind, the she-cat scanned her eyes around the nearby tree neighbors. When a flash of blue caught sight of her eyes, she stopped to peer closer. Perching many treetops away, a lonely bluebird settled down for the night. He ruffled his sapphire jeweled feathers, catching the eyes of those who saw beauty in riches. Though Larkmoon could care less about its striking color and more about the fact that it was sitting away from its nest. Perhaps the bird too had been exiled from his home.

Drowning her vision in the bird's blue wings brought back a sea of memories. Mostly the terrifying ones; ones of floating, dead bodies in navy blue lakes, and ones of hopeless heavens that seemed to never end. But there was a feather of hope that fluttered down from the rest. It tangled its way down from the tree's limb and landed strewed among the roots. Redpaw.

Larkmoon had struck her claws through the souls of innocent cats but no death was nearly as painful as Redpaw's. It tortured her the most. Just at the thought of the apprentice's name was enough to send guilt slithering its way into her heart. It constricted her pulse and made the blood in her veins become a regretful poison.

If only times were simple again.

     "I don't think I'm ever going to be a warrior," Huffed the heavy voice of Redpaw. She slumped down on the empty lot of grass beside her mentor, her head hung low in sadness.

     "What makes you say that?" Frowning and puzzled from her apprentice's words, the ginger tabby moved up into a sitting position, all to get a better look. Her face was no longer blank with lack of emotion, but grim in confusion.

     "Well, some of the others were talking about what it means to be a warrior," The young she-cat began, her pale whiskers trembling as she spoke. "They say you have to be strong enough to save someone. And that I'm not strong-"

     Larkmoon scoffed, "That's not true." There was a sudden heavy gust of wind that whipped past her, throwing her fur into a tempest of ginger. "Who said this to you? Once I get my claws on them-" Larkmoon rose to her paws in a rapid manner, acting as though she were about to conquer the clear land.

  "No, Larkmoon, please, you'll only make it worse." Redpaw had a way of convincing her clanmates with her eyes. They were doe-like and round; two perfect circles. Her bittersweet chocolate eyes pulled Larkmoon to a fierce halt. She studied those eyes for a long time.

     "And you know it's true. Look how many times you have saved me." The words were so sincere and sad, they left Larkmoon speechless. It was like the winds of the clear field had swept all of her words away. She stood, staring at her apprentice, the sadness leaking from both of their bodies.

    "Larkmoon, what will I do?" The silence was broken by Redpaw. She finally pulled her eyes away, letting a streak of sunlight run down her face. "Can't we pretend that you've gotten hurt and then I'll come and save you?"