Among The Spiders

Chapter 1 : Our own Ouroboros

The grassy plains were dyed orange by the setting sun as the wind rustled through the blades of grass. Heathergaze turned to grin tenderly at Curlewsight as the ferns stretched out to captivate her and the clouds called her name. The tan tom's face was bathed in a bright orange glow that gave him a pale-yellow glow. Before he turned to face Heathergaze, the shadows hid the light from his face, and the tom's blue eyes returned to their regular motionless, silent blue. Her silky gray fur and the heather linked to her snow-white tail were ruffled by the breeze swirling around them. He returned her grin with a blank expression. The tom continued onward down the soft grass as she took a few steps forward before settling into a stroll next to him. She wasn't bothered by his increasing distance from her; yes, he no longer recited her long prose of love or even gave her a passing glance the majority of the time, but she knew he continued to love for her and that she felt the same way about him. The sun slowly melted into the azure water as they walked, leaving room for the drab, towering moon. The blades swirled about them. Her calm look turns to quiet uncertainty as Curlewsight continues to stroll, the beauty illuminating her pale-yellow eyes with an elegant radiance.

"I'm returning to camp," The Whispering through the chilly night air is Curlewsight. With a twinge of dissatisfaction in her stomach, Heathergaze nods at him but remains put. She observes the stars as they move far above, engaging in a unique dance that no creature below could comprehend. They follow the same pattern each night, keeping her from growing bored or worn out. She walked on the trail as Curlewsight's wiry tan tail moved in the opposite direction and vanished into the ferns, the crunching of autumn leaves beneath her paws as she absorbed the tranquil surroundings. It seemed more vibrant alone in some way. Her mind could sense life reaching out to her, begging for a glimpse, to be recognized like everything else craves. For a brief period, she considers how many flowers could be lost if they were never seen. How many delicate yellow petals float in the breeze alone on cliff tops? There is no one watching their blooming and wrinkled tradition.

As she watches a white butterfly flit among the buttercups in front of her, she shakes her head, forcing herself out of her mind. She offers it a little grin, hoping it knows it was noticed—the most essential thing of all—to be noticed. She returns to her route and begins her journey back to the camp, following the worn trail back. She was losing her mind in her thoughts once more. As she approaches, she hears the creaking of the ancient wood, the tall, imposing structure covered in old vines and plants, and the break at the bottom of the abandoned two-leg nest offering the entry. She offers Frostfang a courteous nod as she walks in, the white she-cats words flowing by her as her thoughts rattle like a muddy fall. She drifts off with the picture of a dying buttercup behind her eyelids, thinking about the stars and drooping flowers as she cradles up in her nest, too preoccupied to see Curlewsight's nest still empty next to her.