A Kindling: Epilogue
(AO3 counterpart here.)
The Aulmir was painfully noisy in the daylight.
Somehow, it was dead as well. The aura of the humans’ hives and their cars did not ripple with life— rather, a stale, murky tang hovered around them. It was like dying lichen on a stone, or a puddle of muddied water. They moved and made noise, but they had as much energy to them as a rotten rat did.
Funny how that escaped notice until one was forced to stay here.
Two small, patched cats huddled together on the edge of its web of stone and steel, squinting as the sun rose higher and higher and awoke the humans into buzzing all over the place on their ambiguous business. The older tom, grey-and-white, had his eyes on the horizon.
The marshland’s grass looked so much brighter and more golden in the morning. Before all of this started, such brightness would have been welcoming. Now it felt like he was being taunted by the croaks of frogs and buzzing of insects, almost completely drowned out by the Aulmir behind him.
“Sir? Fognose, sir?”
He blinked blearily and looked to his right to the apprentice beside him. The tiny brown-and-white tom, Littlepaw, was watching him, his aura like the depths of a stream in spring. He swiveled an ear to indicate he was listening.
“It’ll be alright,” Littlepaw said, softly but brightly. “I think that was a good sign.”
Earlier, they had ducked behind a steel structure as clusters of rogues raced past them, all wounded and growling under their breaths. Some were badly beaten and barely keeping up with their fellows through heavy limps. Even through the stink of the Aulmir (and Fognose’s admittedly poor spring nose), the scents of ThunderClan, WindClan, and RiverClan had wafted off of the rogues just as strongly as blood ran off their pelts.
Fognose made a weak attempt at an optimistic blink. “I hope so.”
Littlepaw sat up a bit to peer out at the marshes. “Mayhaps they were chased away. That yowling had to mean something important.”
“Perhaps.” Fognose, remaining neutral, followed his Warden’s line of sight. “I just pray no one was killed in…whatever happened out there.”
He hadn’t dared to stop a rogue to ask what was going on. They had emanated anger and fear in auras like fire—he was sure that if they’d caught sight of the two Clan cats, they would not have responded well.
Littlepaw looked at Fognose now. “Has StarClan spoken to you yet? Can we check on the others?”
The seer opened his mouth to say “no”, but his ear caught a distant fluttering. He and Littlepaw turned their heads simultaneously to the right, where the marsh had pushed its fragile grip just a bit more over the Aulmir’s border. Something surrounded by a haze of dusk had ducked into what remained of the grass and was now shuffling around inside it.
Littlepaw’s eyes brightened. “Perhaps that’s them now.”
Fognose said nothing, just held his breath. A pause, and then the dusky thing hopped back into view. He relaxed; it was a particularly large crow holding a stray kinked twig.
“Pay respects,” he murmured to Littlepaw, and bowed his head when the crow looked their way. Out of the corner of his eye, the apprentice hurriedly did the same.
The crow cocked its head, regarding them with unreadable black eyes. It abruptly jumped and flapped, carrying itself into the air only to land on a human structure tall enough to make the two cats look up at it. Still watching them, the crow shifted its wings, then cracked the thin twig in two. The pieces fell noiselessly to the ground. Fognose looked up from staring at the pieces just in time to catch the crow winking one eye, taking off, and flying east.
Littlepaw, watching the crow disappear, finally gave his charge a rather excited look for his usual serenity. “About as good of a sign as any, I would say.”
Fognose gave him a fond, jokingly-annoyed look. “And when, pray, did they speak to you rather than I?”
“Well…” Littlepaw tilted his head. “I would think their voices were quite clear then.”
With a gentle swat of his tail to Littlepaw’s side, Fognose nodded towards where the crow had gone. “Using one of Thlainra’s servants, no less. It’d be best to follow…” His voice unconsciously softened. “No matter what awaits us.”
Littlepaw brushed up against the seer’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you safe, sir, worry not.”
Fognose held in his usual joking response about Littlepaw’s size. He needed all the confidence he could get to re-enter ShadowClan territory. Instead, he gave a purr and only paused for a heartbeat before walking slowly but steadily over the border, Littlepaw close by him.
There was no conversation between them; each had their breath held and ears perked for the slightest noise. The only sound they made was the shifting of grass, and even that was more muted than usual, like the world was trying to help them stay safe. Bugs whined and buzzed, fish splashed as they leapt out of the water to catch those bugs, and two frogs sang back and forth to each other. All of this and no sign of feline life for what seemed like days.
Littlepaw suddenly stopped and nudged Fognose to get him to do the same. “Do you hear that?”
Fognose dared to sit on his haunches and peer over the tallest grasses. A dark grey cat, lit by the color of the morning sky, was heading towards them, and seemed to pick up their pace when Fognose ducked down again.
“It’s your mentor,” he said, relieved.
Littlepaw perked up immediately, tail curling. The toms moved forward just as their Clanmate called out, “Littlepaw! Fognose! I come alone!”
“Flintfang!” Littlepaw did not leave his place beside Fognose, but he did trot faster, only parting to greet his mentor when they pushed through the grass and were face-to-face with him.
Flintfang pressed his forehead to his apprentice’s. “It brings me such joy that you live, my friends. I was chosen to come look for you. Perhaps I did not need to.”
“We intended to see everyone that remained,” Fognose said, greeting the warrior in turn. “StarClan spoke to us.”
“To both of you?” Flintfang blinked, looking down at Littlepaw with surprise and pride. “What a gift, little one! They have blessed you.”
Littlepaw puffed out his chest, eyes nearly shut with delight.
Flintfang purred before returning his attention to Fognose. “You return at the right time. Brokenstar is dead, and the rogues gone. He brought down the wrath of every other Clan this last night and many fights broke out.”
“On a waking night…” Fognose shared a stunned look with Littlepaw. “He truly is dead? Who is our leader now?”
“Blackfoot. He has agreed to terms set by the other leaders to ensure peace, and has ordered I and others to find everyone who escaped before this.”
Fognose let out a breath, and with it a heaviness slid off his spine. “Let us return, then. I can speak with StarClan and tell Blackfoot where all the others are.” He hesitated. “…And how many of us have died since Littlepaw and I fled?”
Flintfang’s cheer fell off his face. “Too many, from our Clan and others. We mourn them all today. Though… it may comfort you to know that your mentor lives. She resides with ThunderClan now.”
Fognose should probably have been surprised, but all he felt was amusement. “I wish them luck with her.”
“She won’t be around to scold me for bringing her the wrong prey, then?” Littlepaw asked, tail curling.
“Never again, I imagine.” Flintfang licked his apprentice’s ear. “Now, let’s get you home. You two did not hunt well, wherever you were.” He turned and started back the way he had come. “Where were you, anyway? We never searched for you.”
Littlepaw followed, though he was still within reach of Fognose. “The Aulmir. A terrible place to be when you hardly know it. There was this one awful day…”
Fognose let his Warden do the talking, walking last in the line. He glanced back at the stone-steel prison and its ugly, dirty aura and sighed, lighter all over again. If he could help it, he wasn’t going back there for the rest of his life.
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Blog 135 - Leading Lady fatalXTORM
Leading Lady fatalXTORM
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