Post by long.gone on Oct 1, 2008 22:31:10 GMT -5
Ravencry sat in the clearing, her posture straight, her chin to the sky, and her back to the forest. Her sleek black fur layed smoothly and neatly over his slender body, but ruffed out over her neck in an odd way. The amber color in her eyes had not grown dim or dull over all these seasons, even now, the mute cat stood tall.
She had been through so many hardships; the loss of her mother Night, the loss of her voice on the first day she joined ThunderClan, the loss of her mate the day she bore his kits, and even the loss of one of her kits, Wishkit. These had all happened in a matter of five seasons, 60 moons. Now, she thought calmly and clearly, in a familiar place.
This clearing, right in the very spot, was where she fought her first battle against Th'RoancasClan. On the blood stained rock she sat on now, was where her throat bled as she was held down by Mystic. Now her memory faded, who had saved her way back when? Could it have been her mentor, Shadowclaw at the time? Or even the leader before him which she could not recall.
It was no wonder she had been invited as a senior warrior of the clan. She had a rough memory, not being able to recall the first days of her Clan life, though the fact might have been she had slight amnesia with her injury. None the less, here she stood.
She hadn't given up, and she didn't plan to, even if her voice was gone forever. Voice. The thought came to her and surprised her with another memory. Goldeneyes. Her lost mate who had died so soon after she gave birth to his kits.
Shortly after naming Nightkit and Wishkit, she was given the news that Goldeneyes had been killed by a badger; then, her voice was lost altogether. She had wept for many night's afterwards. The moon had at least cycled through once or twice before she finally began to recover, and she began to focus on her only kit, Nightkit.
Now her own kit was the age that she was when she first joined ThunderClan. Pride consumed her, soon she would be a warrior, stronger then Ravencry ever could be. Reason; she had a voice, speech, she was not considered dumb because of her neckwound. She had a chance to walk down a free trail.
Another memory flashed before her wet eyes. Freetrail, her first and only apprentice. Shadowstar wouldn't let her get away without mentoring a single apprentice, she had feared training the leader's daughter, but she had truely grown fond of her, like another daughter. The sad truth was though, shortly after her warrior ceremony, she parished by the claws of Snake.
These were all sad stories, so many things to tell, though she could not. So, when she moved on to sit with the Elders, she would not be able to tell the kits of the ages of Shadowstar and Th'RoancasClan, nor of the other great fierceless leaders of her age. They would all fade off into an unknowing memory, for she was the most senior of warriors, yet not an Elder yet.
Should she ever find a way to communicate, she wouldn't know. But no worries, readers, for she communicates somewhat with the flick of an ear, a tail, a limb. The way she brushes her tongue across her friends can speak to, silent words, but meaningfull words.
What a silent memory she had.
She had been through so many hardships; the loss of her mother Night, the loss of her voice on the first day she joined ThunderClan, the loss of her mate the day she bore his kits, and even the loss of one of her kits, Wishkit. These had all happened in a matter of five seasons, 60 moons. Now, she thought calmly and clearly, in a familiar place.
This clearing, right in the very spot, was where she fought her first battle against Th'RoancasClan. On the blood stained rock she sat on now, was where her throat bled as she was held down by Mystic. Now her memory faded, who had saved her way back when? Could it have been her mentor, Shadowclaw at the time? Or even the leader before him which she could not recall.
It was no wonder she had been invited as a senior warrior of the clan. She had a rough memory, not being able to recall the first days of her Clan life, though the fact might have been she had slight amnesia with her injury. None the less, here she stood.
She hadn't given up, and she didn't plan to, even if her voice was gone forever. Voice. The thought came to her and surprised her with another memory. Goldeneyes. Her lost mate who had died so soon after she gave birth to his kits.
Shortly after naming Nightkit and Wishkit, she was given the news that Goldeneyes had been killed by a badger; then, her voice was lost altogether. She had wept for many night's afterwards. The moon had at least cycled through once or twice before she finally began to recover, and she began to focus on her only kit, Nightkit.
Now her own kit was the age that she was when she first joined ThunderClan. Pride consumed her, soon she would be a warrior, stronger then Ravencry ever could be. Reason; she had a voice, speech, she was not considered dumb because of her neckwound. She had a chance to walk down a free trail.
Another memory flashed before her wet eyes. Freetrail, her first and only apprentice. Shadowstar wouldn't let her get away without mentoring a single apprentice, she had feared training the leader's daughter, but she had truely grown fond of her, like another daughter. The sad truth was though, shortly after her warrior ceremony, she parished by the claws of Snake.
These were all sad stories, so many things to tell, though she could not. So, when she moved on to sit with the Elders, she would not be able to tell the kits of the ages of Shadowstar and Th'RoancasClan, nor of the other great fierceless leaders of her age. They would all fade off into an unknowing memory, for she was the most senior of warriors, yet not an Elder yet.
Should she ever find a way to communicate, she wouldn't know. But no worries, readers, for she communicates somewhat with the flick of an ear, a tail, a limb. The way she brushes her tongue across her friends can speak to, silent words, but meaningfull words.
What a silent memory she had.
