Post by lynxstar on Mar 4, 2013 13:21:44 GMT -5
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LYNXSTAR.
WELCOME TO THE NEW AGE
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,7,true][atrb=valign,top] | ♠ NAME -- Lynxstar ♠ AGE -- 66 moons ♠ ORIENTATION -- heterosexual | ♠ CLAN -- windclan ♠POSITION -- leader ♠ GENDER -- tom |
I'M WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST
♠ PERSONALITY
Lynxstar is a very bitter soul. He tends to be irritable and grumpy. He tends to spend a large portion of his time alone, wandering the moors. He gains some comfort in this, though not much.
Lynxstar tends to also give off the impression of being one of those "strong silent types". In reality he just doesn't talk all that much. He is a uniquely large tom, and gives off a rather intimidating appearance. However, he is actually largely non-violent. Since seeing his son's body torn and shredded beyond recognition, he has become very reluctant to engage in any kind of violence. He fears other parents having to see the same vision he saw.
With his age, he has gained a bit of an "elderly" attitude. He tends to be a bit grumpy, but not cruel or unkind grumpy. It all is warm-hearted really. He gripes and complains, but there is usually a smile hidden on his lips and a glimmer in his eyes. He has a lot of experience and wisdom, due to his age, and a nearly indefinable level of patience. He is often looked to by younger warriors for advice and the such. He is much respected. However, the common opinion is that he should have retired, or at least be retiring soon. But Lynxstar is stubborn by nature and absolutely refuses. He insists that he will "serve until he can serve no more".
However, underneath his smiling eyes, lies a deep sorrow. Lynxstar is largely alone in this world. His parents and siblings have long since passed away due to old age. And his young son died before becoming a warrior. The death of his son in particular plagues him. He is often reminded of Tanglepaw everywhere he looks. While he has reconciled himself with his son's death, he never truly got over the trauma. Because of this, he can sometimes go into quiet spells, or have days that he tends to avoid the apprentice den - as their bouncing energy reminds him of what he lost. He is very calm and tends to hold his more private emotions deep within himself.
Lynxstar tends to also give off the impression of being one of those "strong silent types". In reality he just doesn't talk all that much. He is a uniquely large tom, and gives off a rather intimidating appearance. However, he is actually largely non-violent. Since seeing his son's body torn and shredded beyond recognition, he has become very reluctant to engage in any kind of violence. He fears other parents having to see the same vision he saw.
With his age, he has gained a bit of an "elderly" attitude. He tends to be a bit grumpy, but not cruel or unkind grumpy. It all is warm-hearted really. He gripes and complains, but there is usually a smile hidden on his lips and a glimmer in his eyes. He has a lot of experience and wisdom, due to his age, and a nearly indefinable level of patience. He is often looked to by younger warriors for advice and the such. He is much respected. However, the common opinion is that he should have retired, or at least be retiring soon. But Lynxstar is stubborn by nature and absolutely refuses. He insists that he will "serve until he can serve no more".
However, underneath his smiling eyes, lies a deep sorrow. Lynxstar is largely alone in this world. His parents and siblings have long since passed away due to old age. And his young son died before becoming a warrior. The death of his son in particular plagues him. He is often reminded of Tanglepaw everywhere he looks. While he has reconciled himself with his son's death, he never truly got over the trauma. Because of this, he can sometimes go into quiet spells, or have days that he tends to avoid the apprentice den - as their bouncing energy reminds him of what he lost. He is very calm and tends to hold his more private emotions deep within himself.
♠ LIKES
✓ the moors. ✓ cold winter nights. ✓ spending time with elders. ✓ the smell of pine.
♠ DISLIKES
✗ running water. ✗ badgers. ✗ impoliteness. ✗ frogs.
♠ APPEARANCE
Lynxchaser is descended from a once pure line of Turkish Angora. But of course, nothing remains pure in the clans. Yet despite his mixed heritage, his Turkish blood shines through most evidently. His fur is quite long - unusually so for a Windclanner. There has been speculation about some mixing in his family line - possible with Shadowclan or non-clanners. He also possesses a stockier more muscular body type than the classic lean wiry build of a Windclanner.
His dominant fur color is a dark bracken brown accented by black tabby markings. There is white mostly on his belly, legs and neck, going to cream and then being overtaken by the bracken brown. His legs have almost tabby-like marbling on them (likely the remnant of a tabby forebearer). He has dark green eyes, which contrast highly with his dark coloring. His left ear has a sizable notch in it. He has a variety of other quieter scars - nothing very noticable. They are simply memories of a life long-lived.
His most noticable scar lies behind his left ear. It is a remnant of an injury recieved when he was eleven moons old and the only outward sign of his memory loss. It is jagged and descends from his skull down towards his neck.
His dominant fur color is a dark bracken brown accented by black tabby markings. There is white mostly on his belly, legs and neck, going to cream and then being overtaken by the bracken brown. His legs have almost tabby-like marbling on them (likely the remnant of a tabby forebearer). He has dark green eyes, which contrast highly with his dark coloring. His left ear has a sizable notch in it. He has a variety of other quieter scars - nothing very noticable. They are simply memories of a life long-lived.
His most noticable scar lies behind his left ear. It is a remnant of an injury recieved when he was eleven moons old and the only outward sign of his memory loss. It is jagged and descends from his skull down towards his neck.
♠ HISTORY
Lynxchaser was born Lynxkit, the son of Emberflare and Haresprint. He was of his parents' second litter, and the only tom. He grew up with two sisters, whom were "thicker than thieves". His mother doted on the she-cats, while his father doted on his first and then only, son. Haresprint dreamed of training his son himself, of what a great warrior young Lynxkit would be. He imagined his son as a warrior, as a deputy, even chuckled at the thought of the rambunctious young kitten as a leader. But Haresprint was never serious about these dreams - at least not serious in a dangerous sort of way. But he spent nearly every spare moment with his son, teaching him how to pounce - though Lynxkit was both ungraceful and uncoordinated. Lynxkit doted on his father, following Haresprint everywhere he went - even attempting to escape the camp and follow his father on patrols.
Haresprint was sitting proudly at the base of the Highrock when Lynxkit became Lynxpaw. Though he was not named Lynxpaw's mentor, Haresprint was as active in his son's life as ever. He would sit with his son, discussing and practicing whatever it was he had learned that day. He took his son hunting, praised him. In ways, Haresprint taught his son more than his mentor ever could. Haresprint taught Lynxpaw the value of family, he taught him gentleness and peace. For Haresprint had always been peaceful by nature - and was the first to argue out against attacks or violence between the clans. Lynxpaw grew up with the same values. He trained hard. He never developed the same type of relationship with his mother or sisters, but neither did he lack their love.
Lynxpaw recieved his warrior name, his father beaming up at him just as he had moons ago upon recieving his apprentice name. He new name was chanted through the clan - Lynxchaser, in honor of his speed and agility. Lynxcahser moved into the warrior's den, quickly making himself a nest at the side of Haresprint. By this time, his parents had had other litters, but Haresprint never developed a relationship with any of his kittens quite like what he had with Lynxchaser.
Soon enough, Lynxchaser began to grow close to a young she-cat named Mintdapple. For the first time in Lynxchaser's life, he found himself straying away from Haresprint's side, to spend time with Mintdapple. Haresprint only chuckled and grinned, watching his favorite son slowly fall in love. Lynxchaser and Mintdapple became a public pair only moons later. In the blink of an eye, Mintdapple had moved into the Nursery, heavily pregnant with her first litter. But tragedy was to strike. Mintdapple, unbeknownst to any, had uteran problems which complicated her pregnancy. She went into labor, delivering three already dead kittens, and one living little tom. She nearly lost her life herself. The Medicine Cat informed them solemnly that another pregnancy would be risking Mintdapple's life.
All Lynxchaser's energy turned on his little son - a kitten they named Tanglekit. As Lynxchaser's father had done, so Lynxchaser did. He taught his son everything, spent every moment at his side. He had never felt such powerful love. Haresprint only shook his head when Lynxchaser expressed his consuming love of his son, saying "and you will never love so fiercely again". Lynxchaser sat proudly at his son's apprentice ceremony, watching as little Tanglekit became Tanglepaw - and was apprenticed to a warrior named Mousetail. Lynxchaser knew enough of Mousetail to trust her with his precious son, the life he all but lived for.
He shouldn't have.
Not long into his apprenticeship, Tanglepaw was lost. In a horrific badger attack, Lynxchaser's small son was felled while Mousetail battled for their lives. Mousetail returned with marring injuries, and a single limp body. But Lynxchaser couldn't see her injuries. All he could see was her chest rise and fall, while Tanglepaw's no longer did. Lynxchaser was consumed by grief. He and Mintdapple were torn by it, torn apart by their loss. Their pairing ended. And Lynxchaser developed a seething hatred for Mousetail, blaming her inwardly for his loss.
Lynxchaser retreated within himself. But in time he was able to reconcile himself with his son's death. He was forever solemned. Eventually, with age, his parents passed away. Moons later, so would Mintdapple and his two sisters. At the age of forty-seven, after the retirement of the previous deputy, Lynxchaser became deputy. A gathering loomed, and he attended - presented for the first time as the deputy of Windclan.
It was here that he met Frostheart. She was a middle-aged warrior of Shadowclan. The most stunning thing about her was not her wit, nor her beauty, but rather the mesh of scars and puckered flesh that criss-crossed her body. For reasons Lynxstar couldn't fathom, he was drawn to her. Her story was much like his own. She had lost a youth, an apprentice precious to her, and earned the scars that reminded her daily of her failures and loss. The two bonded, Lynxchaser often referring to her as his little "marionette".
Ten moons or so later, the previous leader Fallowstar gave up her last life from an infected rat bite. Lynxchaser journeyed to the Moonstone and became Lynxstar. In the midst of celebration, without either truly realizing what was happening, they became lovers. Lynxstar loved Frostheart as he had never loved before. They began to talk of joining, of families and kittens. Frostheart teetered on the edge, debating whether she would leave her clan to be with the tom she loved. But a few moons later, a new decision would be made. Frostheart was made deputy of Shadowclan. The decision over what to do was once again put off. But the other clans had begun to notice Lynxstar's leniency towards Shadowclan, his unusual cooperation and eagerness to come to their defense. They began to wonder.
Lynxstar prepared for another gathering 8 moons later. Since Frostheart had become deputy, their nighttime trysts had been harder and harder to arrange. The gatherings had become their time to see each other, and he yearned for that moment he would set eyes on her. But as she approached, he noticed something. Badgerstar was not leading her clan into the clearing, Frostheart was. And almost as if a mocking answer to his silent prayers, she lept up into the branches. She cast him a pain-filled glance. And he knew then, Frostheart was gone - and Froststar had risen.
They were forced to break off their romance. Never could Froststar leave her clan for him, and neither he for her. They had responsibilities now. The only time he laid eyes on his greatest love was at Gatherings. And he couldn't keep the grief from his eyes, the mourning and yearning. He dreamed of burying his face in her fur, of wrapping himself around her. Yet he cannot. And each day it tortures him.
Haresprint was sitting proudly at the base of the Highrock when Lynxkit became Lynxpaw. Though he was not named Lynxpaw's mentor, Haresprint was as active in his son's life as ever. He would sit with his son, discussing and practicing whatever it was he had learned that day. He took his son hunting, praised him. In ways, Haresprint taught his son more than his mentor ever could. Haresprint taught Lynxpaw the value of family, he taught him gentleness and peace. For Haresprint had always been peaceful by nature - and was the first to argue out against attacks or violence between the clans. Lynxpaw grew up with the same values. He trained hard. He never developed the same type of relationship with his mother or sisters, but neither did he lack their love.
Lynxpaw recieved his warrior name, his father beaming up at him just as he had moons ago upon recieving his apprentice name. He new name was chanted through the clan - Lynxchaser, in honor of his speed and agility. Lynxcahser moved into the warrior's den, quickly making himself a nest at the side of Haresprint. By this time, his parents had had other litters, but Haresprint never developed a relationship with any of his kittens quite like what he had with Lynxchaser.
Soon enough, Lynxchaser began to grow close to a young she-cat named Mintdapple. For the first time in Lynxchaser's life, he found himself straying away from Haresprint's side, to spend time with Mintdapple. Haresprint only chuckled and grinned, watching his favorite son slowly fall in love. Lynxchaser and Mintdapple became a public pair only moons later. In the blink of an eye, Mintdapple had moved into the Nursery, heavily pregnant with her first litter. But tragedy was to strike. Mintdapple, unbeknownst to any, had uteran problems which complicated her pregnancy. She went into labor, delivering three already dead kittens, and one living little tom. She nearly lost her life herself. The Medicine Cat informed them solemnly that another pregnancy would be risking Mintdapple's life.
All Lynxchaser's energy turned on his little son - a kitten they named Tanglekit. As Lynxchaser's father had done, so Lynxchaser did. He taught his son everything, spent every moment at his side. He had never felt such powerful love. Haresprint only shook his head when Lynxchaser expressed his consuming love of his son, saying "and you will never love so fiercely again". Lynxchaser sat proudly at his son's apprentice ceremony, watching as little Tanglekit became Tanglepaw - and was apprenticed to a warrior named Mousetail. Lynxchaser knew enough of Mousetail to trust her with his precious son, the life he all but lived for.
He shouldn't have.
Not long into his apprenticeship, Tanglepaw was lost. In a horrific badger attack, Lynxchaser's small son was felled while Mousetail battled for their lives. Mousetail returned with marring injuries, and a single limp body. But Lynxchaser couldn't see her injuries. All he could see was her chest rise and fall, while Tanglepaw's no longer did. Lynxchaser was consumed by grief. He and Mintdapple were torn by it, torn apart by their loss. Their pairing ended. And Lynxchaser developed a seething hatred for Mousetail, blaming her inwardly for his loss.
Lynxchaser retreated within himself. But in time he was able to reconcile himself with his son's death. He was forever solemned. Eventually, with age, his parents passed away. Moons later, so would Mintdapple and his two sisters. At the age of forty-seven, after the retirement of the previous deputy, Lynxchaser became deputy. A gathering loomed, and he attended - presented for the first time as the deputy of Windclan.
It was here that he met Frostheart. She was a middle-aged warrior of Shadowclan. The most stunning thing about her was not her wit, nor her beauty, but rather the mesh of scars and puckered flesh that criss-crossed her body. For reasons Lynxstar couldn't fathom, he was drawn to her. Her story was much like his own. She had lost a youth, an apprentice precious to her, and earned the scars that reminded her daily of her failures and loss. The two bonded, Lynxchaser often referring to her as his little "marionette".
Ten moons or so later, the previous leader Fallowstar gave up her last life from an infected rat bite. Lynxchaser journeyed to the Moonstone and became Lynxstar. In the midst of celebration, without either truly realizing what was happening, they became lovers. Lynxstar loved Frostheart as he had never loved before. They began to talk of joining, of families and kittens. Frostheart teetered on the edge, debating whether she would leave her clan to be with the tom she loved. But a few moons later, a new decision would be made. Frostheart was made deputy of Shadowclan. The decision over what to do was once again put off. But the other clans had begun to notice Lynxstar's leniency towards Shadowclan, his unusual cooperation and eagerness to come to their defense. They began to wonder.
Lynxstar prepared for another gathering 8 moons later. Since Frostheart had become deputy, their nighttime trysts had been harder and harder to arrange. The gatherings had become their time to see each other, and he yearned for that moment he would set eyes on her. But as she approached, he noticed something. Badgerstar was not leading her clan into the clearing, Frostheart was. And almost as if a mocking answer to his silent prayers, she lept up into the branches. She cast him a pain-filled glance. And he knew then, Frostheart was gone - and Froststar had risen.
They were forced to break off their romance. Never could Froststar leave her clan for him, and neither he for her. They had responsibilities now. The only time he laid eyes on his greatest love was at Gatherings. And he couldn't keep the grief from his eyes, the mourning and yearning. He dreamed of burying his face in her fur, of wrapping himself around her. Yet he cannot. And each day it tortures him.
♠ ROLEPLAY EXAMPLE
Lynxchaser couldn’t say a word, couldn’t trust himself to do so much as clear his throat. Instead he sat, his eyes staring blindly into the ground. His proud shoulders were hunched, as if to shield him from an unseasonable chill. Even his tail was wrapped tightly around his paws, holding himself together. His lips remained clamped tightly together. He closed his eyes, simply letting Frostheart’s words flow over him. She created a picture, one he had formed hundreds upon hundreds of times. At one point, it had been a sort of obsession. He had built every second of the event in his mind, every millimeter of image. He had visited the scene, memorized every branch, trunk and bush. He had stood there, in the middle of it all, and seen it play out before him. He had seen it a hundred different ways, all with the same end. And sometimes, in those early months, he had let it end differently.
He had sunk far enough into grief to allow himself to almost believe what he was seeing. Sometimes he saw himself, leaping into the fray. He was standing over his son, fighting with more fury than he had ever truly possessed. Sometimes it was all Tanglepaw. Occasionally, he pretended that Starclan had intervened, had sent a heavenly army to defend a life not meant to be lost. And very rarely indeed, he had imagined that Frostheart had actually been there, had made it on time. That she had done what he hadn’t been able to do. He imagined that she had been there for his son. And amidst it all, every time he opened his eyes, he found himself crying. Because no one was ever victorious. The clearing forever remained empty. Not even a ghost haunted the deadly silent oasis.
“Always.” Lynxchaser drew in a trembling breath, squeezing his eyes tightly together. He held his breath. Would she tell him, would either have the courage to finally visit their grief? “He was terrified, I could see it, even with how far away I was when it started. But he was strong. So strong. He didn’t move, didn’t run. He just got ready to fight.” Lynxchaser was trembling now, every limb shaking. Her words were bringing pictures to his mind, painting the true story – not one of his imaginary tales. He saw his beloved little son, head high. He saw his small shoulders squared, his too-small paws planted. He saw the pride, the courage. He would look strong, defiant, ready – as he had when he received his apprentice name. But with all that, Lynxchaser could imagine the fear. He could imagine the small muscles shaking. And Lynxchaser began to cry, silent pouring tears. He hadn’t been there to sooth his sons fears.
“But he was worthy of Lionclan.” He let out a ragged breath, only to draw an equally shaky sort of gasp. Lionclan. Tanglepaw had played such games as a kitten in the Nursery. He could still remember them. He had sat at his mate’s side, watching proudly as their surviving son strutted around the small nursery – various other kittens in tow. He had cajoled them all into playing “Lionclan” with him. As Frostheart paused, the memory came back loud and clear.
Tanglekit sat in a circle of small kittens, a tom and two she-cats. He was clearly in control, though no bigger than any other kitten there. He was lecturing, setting out the rules of the game quite clearly. They were brave warriors of Lionclan, they would fight off anything that came their way – dogs the size of the high rock would be nothing for their might. One of the kittens piped up a question. “Who’s gonna be the leader?” Lynxchaser had expected his son to snort, and declare himself their brave leader. But instead he stared at the kitten incredulously before declaring in a high squeaky voice. “My dad! He’s the bravest.” The other kittens had agreed. After which he had declared himself the deputy, looking to his father. “Tanglechaser and Lynxstar right Dad?” Lynxchaser had only purred, finally giving a nod of assent.
The memory faded away. They should have been together. But Frostheart was speaking again, drawing up images of the day that had torn them apart. “Even when it lunged for him, he didn’t flinch. He fought back. He’d always been a good fighter. Strong, good built for it, good head for it.” Lynxchaser was silent, the tears pouring freely through his closed eyes. He almost wanted to beg her to stop. He didn’t want to hear the end, to hear how the brave little tom had fallen. “It didn’t get him right away. I ran to him as fast as I could. It was the fastest I’d ever run, and it didn’t feel anywhere near fast enough.”
She hadn’t been fast enough. But she had been there. He had been far away, out of ear shot, out of everything. He’d been sitting at the camp, chattering with his fellow warriors. He’d been smiling and laughing, simply waiting for the moment – his favorite moment of every day. He was waiting for the moment where Tanglepaw would come bounding through the camp entrance. He was waiting to hear all about that day’s training. He’d been waiting, while Frostheart had been the only one who tried to save him. His mentor had fought for him, not his father.
“He gave almost as good as he got. He…he was so brave, Lynxchaser. He was the sort of cat any cat would be privaledged to fight and live beside. It was an honor to be his mentor.” He felt himself beginning to go numb. He had heard it all before, the praise. He had been surrounded by it for moons. Those that had never even known Tanglepaw had praised his great courage, his great heart. Speeches had been made, sympathies given. And none of them had made a difference. None of them had brought Tanglepaw back through that entrance, bounding and eager to see his dad.
“He knew I couldn’t make it in time, I could see it, as much as I wished otherwise. I didn’t want to acknowledge that, didn’t want to have to realize it.” He saw Tanglepaw again, drawn up to his full size, knowing full well that he was going to die. That nobody could save him. He had known that Lynxchaser wasn’t there. He had known that Lynxchaser wasn’t even coming. Frostheart was speaking again, more praise and a story from his apprenticehood. But Lynxchaser was no longer listening. They’d come to the end of the story, the end of the story that Lynxchaser had written and rewritten for more moons than he could count. They both knew what had come next, the body brought back, the mourning. Eventually, Lynxchaser’s tears dried. And once they had gone, left his face resembling something near to composed, Lynxchaser opened his eyes once more. He lifted his face, lifting his gaze from the ground where it had been rooted.
He spent a good number of minutes gathering himself, breathing in and out in a rhythmic fashion. And at last he turned his face to Frostheart. He watched her, his grief and gratitude intermixing. His voice was raw and gravelly when he spoke. “Thank you.” His voice broke and he had to pause, drawing in breaths again. The older tom had been brought to the ground, his every strength crumbled to nothing in the face of a story. “Thank you for being there when I wasn’t. Thank you for fighting for him when I didn’t.” Tears were threatening to fall again, but he pushed them back. He moved suddenly, his first true movement since the conversation had begun.
He wrapped himself around Frostheart, pressing close to her. His hitched breath came against her cheeks, his damp fur pressed against her own. He shook, though managed to speak a last time. “Thank you for not letting him die alone.” He’d been the first to say it, out loud. Die, dead. Tanglepaw was gone, he had died, he was dead. And even though Lynxchaser hadn’t been there, Lynxchaser couldn’t be there. Frostheart had been. She had raced to save a life they had both held more dear than perhaps any other. Tanglepaw’s last vision had been of this very she-cat fighting for his life, sacrificing her own for his. His last vision had been someone who loved him more than they loved them-self.
He had sunk far enough into grief to allow himself to almost believe what he was seeing. Sometimes he saw himself, leaping into the fray. He was standing over his son, fighting with more fury than he had ever truly possessed. Sometimes it was all Tanglepaw. Occasionally, he pretended that Starclan had intervened, had sent a heavenly army to defend a life not meant to be lost. And very rarely indeed, he had imagined that Frostheart had actually been there, had made it on time. That she had done what he hadn’t been able to do. He imagined that she had been there for his son. And amidst it all, every time he opened his eyes, he found himself crying. Because no one was ever victorious. The clearing forever remained empty. Not even a ghost haunted the deadly silent oasis.
“Always.” Lynxchaser drew in a trembling breath, squeezing his eyes tightly together. He held his breath. Would she tell him, would either have the courage to finally visit their grief? “He was terrified, I could see it, even with how far away I was when it started. But he was strong. So strong. He didn’t move, didn’t run. He just got ready to fight.” Lynxchaser was trembling now, every limb shaking. Her words were bringing pictures to his mind, painting the true story – not one of his imaginary tales. He saw his beloved little son, head high. He saw his small shoulders squared, his too-small paws planted. He saw the pride, the courage. He would look strong, defiant, ready – as he had when he received his apprentice name. But with all that, Lynxchaser could imagine the fear. He could imagine the small muscles shaking. And Lynxchaser began to cry, silent pouring tears. He hadn’t been there to sooth his sons fears.
“But he was worthy of Lionclan.” He let out a ragged breath, only to draw an equally shaky sort of gasp. Lionclan. Tanglepaw had played such games as a kitten in the Nursery. He could still remember them. He had sat at his mate’s side, watching proudly as their surviving son strutted around the small nursery – various other kittens in tow. He had cajoled them all into playing “Lionclan” with him. As Frostheart paused, the memory came back loud and clear.
Tanglekit sat in a circle of small kittens, a tom and two she-cats. He was clearly in control, though no bigger than any other kitten there. He was lecturing, setting out the rules of the game quite clearly. They were brave warriors of Lionclan, they would fight off anything that came their way – dogs the size of the high rock would be nothing for their might. One of the kittens piped up a question. “Who’s gonna be the leader?” Lynxchaser had expected his son to snort, and declare himself their brave leader. But instead he stared at the kitten incredulously before declaring in a high squeaky voice. “My dad! He’s the bravest.” The other kittens had agreed. After which he had declared himself the deputy, looking to his father. “Tanglechaser and Lynxstar right Dad?” Lynxchaser had only purred, finally giving a nod of assent.
The memory faded away. They should have been together. But Frostheart was speaking again, drawing up images of the day that had torn them apart. “Even when it lunged for him, he didn’t flinch. He fought back. He’d always been a good fighter. Strong, good built for it, good head for it.” Lynxchaser was silent, the tears pouring freely through his closed eyes. He almost wanted to beg her to stop. He didn’t want to hear the end, to hear how the brave little tom had fallen. “It didn’t get him right away. I ran to him as fast as I could. It was the fastest I’d ever run, and it didn’t feel anywhere near fast enough.”
She hadn’t been fast enough. But she had been there. He had been far away, out of ear shot, out of everything. He’d been sitting at the camp, chattering with his fellow warriors. He’d been smiling and laughing, simply waiting for the moment – his favorite moment of every day. He was waiting for the moment where Tanglepaw would come bounding through the camp entrance. He was waiting to hear all about that day’s training. He’d been waiting, while Frostheart had been the only one who tried to save him. His mentor had fought for him, not his father.
“He gave almost as good as he got. He…he was so brave, Lynxchaser. He was the sort of cat any cat would be privaledged to fight and live beside. It was an honor to be his mentor.” He felt himself beginning to go numb. He had heard it all before, the praise. He had been surrounded by it for moons. Those that had never even known Tanglepaw had praised his great courage, his great heart. Speeches had been made, sympathies given. And none of them had made a difference. None of them had brought Tanglepaw back through that entrance, bounding and eager to see his dad.
“He knew I couldn’t make it in time, I could see it, as much as I wished otherwise. I didn’t want to acknowledge that, didn’t want to have to realize it.” He saw Tanglepaw again, drawn up to his full size, knowing full well that he was going to die. That nobody could save him. He had known that Lynxchaser wasn’t there. He had known that Lynxchaser wasn’t even coming. Frostheart was speaking again, more praise and a story from his apprenticehood. But Lynxchaser was no longer listening. They’d come to the end of the story, the end of the story that Lynxchaser had written and rewritten for more moons than he could count. They both knew what had come next, the body brought back, the mourning. Eventually, Lynxchaser’s tears dried. And once they had gone, left his face resembling something near to composed, Lynxchaser opened his eyes once more. He lifted his face, lifting his gaze from the ground where it had been rooted.
He spent a good number of minutes gathering himself, breathing in and out in a rhythmic fashion. And at last he turned his face to Frostheart. He watched her, his grief and gratitude intermixing. His voice was raw and gravelly when he spoke. “Thank you.” His voice broke and he had to pause, drawing in breaths again. The older tom had been brought to the ground, his every strength crumbled to nothing in the face of a story. “Thank you for being there when I wasn’t. Thank you for fighting for him when I didn’t.” Tears were threatening to fall again, but he pushed them back. He moved suddenly, his first true movement since the conversation had begun.
He wrapped himself around Frostheart, pressing close to her. His hitched breath came against her cheeks, his damp fur pressed against her own. He shook, though managed to speak a last time. “Thank you for not letting him die alone.” He’d been the first to say it, out loud. Die, dead. Tanglepaw was gone, he had died, he was dead. And even though Lynxchaser hadn’t been there, Lynxchaser couldn’t be there. Frostheart had been. She had raced to save a life they had both held more dear than perhaps any other. Tanglepaw’s last vision had been of this very she-cat fighting for his life, sacrificing her own for his. His last vision had been someone who loved him more than they loved them-self.
]I FEEL IT IN MY BONES
ACCEPTED