a word from the wise [fly]

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This was it. Her absolute favorite season change of all. After moons of harsh coldness that her short coat was not very well adapted to, finally the sweet scent of newleaf rode the breeze in the moors. The weather had not totally changed just yet, but it would soon. She could feel it in her bones, and that excited her. More than excited, really, she felt like dashing around mindlessly through the wavy grasses of her home. She wanted to feel the warm sunlight on her back and her claws sink into the soft earth. Her pelt itched with anticipation.

Jaywing rounded the bend of the base of a hill and mentally ran over her notes. She really needed some more cobwebs for her stashes. Many often forget the significance of keeping a healthy pile of cobweb in reach. It wasn't a herb, to say, but it was as important as any other leaf or root. Without them, what would stop the blood from flowing from a wound? One of the most dangerous scenarios is bleeding to death if the cut is deep enough. In her days she has only seen two die of that cause, and they had been slow deaths. It was eerie and saddening to see the life creep out of their bones and eyes. A shudder ran down her spine at the thought and she shook her head as if to shove the pictures out of her head.

Her pulse quickened when the gray-pointed cat noticed a flash of movement to her right. She turned her body toward the creature and realized it was a fluffy brown rabbit. Her thoughts flicked to what seems like a lifetime ago when her friend had snuck up on her and ended up attempting to teach her a lesson in hunting. It had taken all afternoon and she still hadn't gotten very far. Blinking back to the present, she decided to take a chance and dipped low to the ground. A quick swipe of her tongue to her muzzle and she was locked in on the (hopefully) unknowing rabbit. Jaywing's claws grasped at the ground as she racked her brain for his smooth voice.

"Timing, it's the key, Jaypaw!"

Right. Timing. Okay. Carefully she slunk closer to the grazing animal. Dark paws carried her quietly forward. The rabbit stopped and froze for a few seconds and she felt herself imitate the motion--surely she had warned it of her presence. It surprised her when it turned it's attention back to the blades of green. Trying to suppress her own grin, she crept forward again. Was it time to spring? She battled inwardly with herself before taking a few more steps. Now? Sure. Jaywing bunched up the muscles in her back legs and pushed off the ground, closing the distance between her and the rabbit. She opened her jaws and hoped they would come close with the animal.

She wasn't expecting to feel the soft flesh catch between her teeth, and she actually tripped over herself in her haze of surprise. Jaywing fell forward and rolled onto her back. Dazed, she blinked up at the sky before twisting to see the rabbit's limp body resting by her head. A smile split her face and she didn't even make an attempt to get up off the ground. The medicine cat, her heart pounding in her ears, had caught something. It wasn't the fattest creature, but it didn't matter. She couldn't help but think Tanglepaw would be quite proud of her.

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He supposed he could have called what he was doing a patrol of sorts. He’d left Littleshade in charge of the camp. She could handle it, of this he was sure. And in recent moons, as time had worn on his shoulders, he’d begun to need this. He’d needed the escape, the precious respite. He’d needed to wander his moors. And somehow, without asking, Littleshade seemed to understand. She didn’t question, she didn’t complain. She stepped up. And he supposed, in a way, he was preparing her. Despite the extra lives settled on his shoulders, he wouldn’t live forever. She would step up, someday. She would lead Windclan in his stead. And she would need to be ready. So perhaps, leaving her with the chaos of the camp – patrols and warriors and apprentices who always seemed to need something – was the best way he could teach her. In ways, she was his apprentice, the last apprentice he would truly have. And every mentor knew, for an apprentice to excel, they had to be pushed. They had to be abandoned, left to their own instincts. They had to be tested. And as of yet, Littleshade had not failed him. She was made for such excellence.

He tilted his chin towards the sky, his eyes fluttering closed. The wind ruffled his long fur, caressing him with undeniable affection. He knew, with a quiet certainty, that one day he would wander these moors. He would leave the chaos of camp behind, and he wouldn’t come back. He wanted to die here, in the grasses. He wanted the moor to consume him, for nothing to be left. He had lived these moors, these waving grasses. He had lived and lost in them. And someday, he would be a part of them – to feed the clan he had given everything to. He paused, taking a quiet seat. He curled his tail around his paws. Sometimes, he liked to imagine his ancestors ran through the grasses alongside him. Sure, perhaps it was blasphemy. The ancestors resided in the stars, watching them. But on days like these, when he could close his eyes and feel the wind, he liked to pretend that they walked at his side, ran and chased. Perhaps they were the wind itself. He smiled at the thought, a little gentle thing that floated across his lips.

His eyes opened, his ears suddenly pricking. His smile spread even wider. The wind had given him yet another gift, the scent of Jaywing and the metallic clang of rabbit blood. He stood, shaking out his wild fur. It was blown, making him seem even more unusually massive. He made his way across the hills. Jaywing’s scent was growing stronger, luring him in. He chuckled to himself as he bridged the final hill. He could see her, curled on her side, a rabbit in her paws. A proud catch, unusual for any clan’s Medicine Cat. He shook his head, approaching her. His deep voice was filled with amusement and affection as he approached her and called – “What have you got there, my child?” His eyes crinkled. There was a joy in her, a wild satisfaction. His heart swelled, a combination of pride and love. Seeing the young she-cat, out of her element, among the waving grasses he so loved, it pulled at him – gave him an undeniable sort of hope.

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Her heart had not stopped pounding by the time her brain registered what she had done. Excitement pulsed through her and she grunted lightly as the gray cat shoved pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her blue gaze sparkled as it searched the limp rabbit. Jaywing swiped her tongue over her lips and attempted to calm her racing heart.

As the rush of adrenaline finally began to leave her veins, she winced as her back began to throb. Right, she had taken a dive into the ground after she caught the quick creature. Perhaps tumbling over prey wasn't the best idea ever. But for now she was content with her position and lifted her eyes to her surroundings. It hit her like it does every few times how lucky she is to be in her Clan. She could not imagine living in any other terrain. Without the rolling hills and tall, weaving grasses and the gentle breeze that surges through the moors. Opening her jaws wide, she sucked in a a breath of what she could only describe as home. But there was something else mixed in. A smile crossed her face as she angled her head up toward the fluffy tom standing atop a hill, looking just as majestic as he really was.

“What have you got there, my child?”

Her grin became wider as he spoke his warm words. She poked the dead rabbit with a dark paw and blinked up at Lynxstar. Her tail tip twitched a few times before she spoke, eyes glimmering. "I. ." she hesitated, "I caught a rabbit," her voice came in a soft burst, barely containing her own surprise. If her back hadn't been aching so much, Jaywing would probably be shaking with excitement. "I think we both know who to thank," she laughed.

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In that moment, her eyes bright and her chest heaving, there was something undeniably youthful and vibrant about Jaywing – almost childish. But it wasn’t the sort of childishness that came with disapproval. Rather it was refreshingly endearing. There was excitement in her, adrenaline, a quiet search for approval. And none approved, perhaps none loved her, more than Lynxstar did. He moved closer, pressing his nose gently into her forehead. A laugh rumbled in his chest, his eyes crinkling. He nudged the rabbit with a massive paw, rolling it onto its side. Truly it was a fine catch, young and plump. It wasn’t quite fat, but it was by no means a meager meal. He laughed again.

“You, my dear, are a constant surprise to me.” He shook his head. It was uncommon for Medicine Cats to hunt or exercise such abilities. So much of their time was spent in the care of others. Every spare moment was dedicated to herb gathering, or precious sleep. He straightened, his ears flicking with pleasure. “I believe you should present this to the elders. They would love nothing more than a fresh meal and a chance to fuss over one of their favorite youngsters.” He could picture it now. Unlike the stereotypical grumpiness of the elders, they loved nothing more than to fawn. After all, they had nothing more to give the clan but their love.

He tilted his face towards the sky, smiling at her words. He didn’t doubt Tanglepaw’s presence. And her words eerily echoed his own private thoughts, his dreams of his ancestors sprinting forever through the waving grasses of the moors. He shook his head. “He’s crowing, somewhere up there, claiming that catch somehow as his own.” Lynxstar chuckled. His son had always been like that, eager to take credit – not credit away from Jaywing, but to somehow insert himself in her life. If she caught a rabbit, it was because it was him who had taught her such skills. Lynxstar found himself sitting, his tail wrapping around his paws, watching as Jaywing recovered from her quiet triumph.

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A spark was felt on her forehead when Lynxstar tapped his nose to it. In her daze of surprise and excitement, she hadn't noticed his movements. This simple gesture was enough to send warmth shooting through her. It didn't happen often, but when it did, this fluffy tom was usually the cause. It made her feel an unexplainable happiness. Her blue gaze glanced up and searched his face. Instantly she broke out into a grin of her own.

It hit her so hard in that moment that it seemed to steal her breath away. Her smile slipped for a few moments as she watched her leader, sunlight illuminating his full coat. Lynxstar was out in his moors, his element, and he looked so very young and at peace. WindClan was his home and his home was his family. The medicine cat could clearly see Tanglepaw in this massive tom in front of her. Perhaps it was usually the other way around, but not in this case. Tanglepaw was no longer here to show the Clan how clearly his father was represented in him. But Jaywing could still trace the little tom's face in her memories. She had never really connected their appearances so closely to each other, but when Lynxstar was like this, she couldn't help it. Here, out in the shining, sunny moors with the long, golden stalks of grass and the rolling hills of their home, she couldn't ignore the parallels. It just made her even happier.

She out a laugh as the tension from the past few days visibly seeped from her muscles. Yes, she should take it to the elders. She thinks they would like to be included in her once-in-a-lifetime catch.

“He’s crowing, somewhere up there, claiming that catch somehow as his own.”

Her laughter died down into a small, self-aware smile. She involuntarily flicked her gaze up to the sky. Jaywing knew she wouldn't see anything, but she had to check anyway. It made her feel better. And if Tanglepaw was up there, he'd probably dragged Brightpaw along to show her his awesome teaching skills, of course. She could hear Brightpaw's soprano voice ring through her ears, though it was faded. At least, she thought it was her sibling's voice. She has actually begun to forget the pretty sound of it, and the thought often stirs up new guilt in her belly, because she can still hear Tanglepaw's.

The small gray cat blinked before fixing her eyes on the rabbit. "He was always such a proud little cat. I can almost see his eyes gleaming now," she smirked. Jaywing dropped the side-smile and her face became a little less radiant. "How are you? You are not still beating yourself up, I hope?" Intense blue eyes held his gaze with unwavering emotion. She hoped he was feeling a little more light-hearted, but she doubted it. Nothing had changed between the Clans, and she still hadn't received any signs. Jaywing plopped down on her belly in the wavy grasses across from Lynxstar.

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Lynxstar craned his neck back, his ears perking. The mid-day sun clung high in the air. And in a matter of hours, it would fall, vanish behind the last rolling hill of Windclan’s territory. And in its place, a moon would rise to preside over the darkened realm of the world. He lowered his head. Just a few days ago, a few precious days, that moon had been full and round – perfect for a single evening out of thirty. He savored the image of the moon. It had always represented something sacred in the clans, it was associated with spirits, with higher power. And like many others, Lynxstar had always held a certain wonder for it. Yet in recent moons passed, it had gained a new meaning for him. He found himself, each night, looking to the moon. He watched it swell and shrink, yearning for the day it would be full again. And he reveled in that day, in the time he could climb upon the rock beside Shadestar and Nightstar. In that time he could be near her, drink in her scent, let his gaze roam over her even – if he was careful. He lived, as pathetic as it was, for those stolen catches of breath and loss.

He turned his attention back to Jaywing. She’d been there, those days ago. She’d heard the words. Though likely, as with many, she had dismissed them. They had no reason to carry meaning for her. Yet they still rang in his ears, loud and beating with the pain of betrayal. My kittens…Ospreyfoot…healthy and strong. He wondered whether anyone had seen him stiffen, seen his struggle to retain his composure as he crumbled inside. His ears flicked. His thoughts, as if on a whim, had turned dark. He lowered himself to the ground beside Jaywing, rolling onto his back almost playfully. He stretched out, pawing at the sky. Yet it didn’t quite feel real. He looked to Jaywing, his sole comfort. He smiled, snorting a short laugh – “At least in Starclan he has Brightpaw to keep his ego in check.” He could almost see his son grinning sheepishly down at him. He rolled onto his belly, heaving a sigh. He was still beating himself up. It was his job. He would do it each and every day until he died – or until he quite deserving it. He shook his head, shooting Jaywing a rueful glance. “You know me too well, my dear. But doubt is the burden of leadership.” He paused. He found he wanted to blurt, to say everything. He wanted to say her name, allow the pain to roll off his tongue. His ears flicked back. The words echoing in his mind. Those kittens, they should have been his.

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She had always been quite good at reading others. There wasn't a reason why, just as there are not reasons why others have a knack for hunting, which she certainly didn't. Not that it bothered her, she was quite content with where she was in her life. Especially right now. Yes, the cats in the sky were silent to them and though she knew why that might be, she thought it was absurd that they leave the Clans to their own wits. She could mentally feel Brackenheart smack the back of her head as he did many time when she did something wrong. Which was often.

Brackenheart knew. Jaywing had liked to think that he didn't, but she was just deceiving herself. When the medicine cat apprentice had free time on her paws, he knew she drifted to a certain apprentice. As she got older she could see it in his body language. The way his shoulders tensed when he let her take a break from sorting herbs. The way his eyes searched the back of her head when he thought she wasn't looking. It was a vicious circle, really.

Jaywing could read Lynxstar's body language now. There was a short pause in the conversation as he shifted position. The large tom flopped on his side beside her before rolling on his back. He stretched his paws out to the bright sky. She wondered briefly what it would be like to touch the clouds in the sky. A few strands of his plush fur brushed her nose and she squeezed her eyes shut and looked the other way as Jaywing let out a sneeze. Blinking back into the present, she perked her ears as he spoke. She found herself laughing. "She was always quite good at that, wasn't she?" The air shifted as he moved on to the heavier topic. She searched his profile.

“You know me too well, my dear. But doubt is the burden of leadership.”

The medicine cat nodded solemnly to his statement. Yes, that was completely and utterly true. Even so, without doubt, rash decisions would be made, and that is almost never the solution. Without doubt, there is no thought of consequence. She shifted the rabbit out of the way with one of her paws before resting her head on her toes. Even while the sun shone on the moors and the sweet breeze brushed through her fur, she shivered. Her claws dug into the softened earth.

"I suppose, but too much is not good for you," her eyes searched his large body. "Life is not something to stumble through. Mm, yes, it gets hard, but it also gets better. If you doubt everything, where is there room to believe?" she huffed quietly. Jaywing was happy to see that there was no cloud of breath swirling by her muzzle. "I know it is hard to believe anything in times like these where our source of wisdom is silenced, but I still do. Like I believe the season will get warmer and brighter and more queens will give birth to new, fresh lives." She blinked before returning her soft blue gaze to his bright amber one. "It gives me hope that things will get better," she admits in a quieter tone than before.

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Perhaps, in his old age, he’d lost some of the sharpness he’d had as a young warrior. It was the curse of age. He’d seen it happen, again and again. He’d watched Mintdapple slowly lose sense of time. She’d ceased to recognize him, occasionally called him by the name of their dead child. Others had lost sight, hearing, memory – the ability to stay awake more than a few hours in each day. And unlike many others, he did not deny his age. He knew that the weaknesses native to the body would creep upon him. The extra lives he had been granted could only do so much for him. He was mortal, like any other. And mortality would take him – likely before he had spent the lives granted to him. A soft smile flitted across his lips. This was not an issue he needed dwell on for the moment. His seventieth moon was not yet upon him. And others had lived past their ninetieth. He had seasons, precious seasons, in him yet. And he wouldn’t allow his own creeping fears and exhaustion ruin what he did have – these moments with Jaywing in the grass. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the grass caressing his fur.

He chuckled, remembering Jaywing’s lost sister. The young apprentice had been wild, passionate – yet bright and full of a vibrant sort of life. He shook his head, turning so he could look at Jaywing. He arched a brow. “You were very similar, you know.” His tail flicked, thinking back on Jaywing and Brightpaw, as youthful sisters. “You had different paths, but a similar spirit.” His ears flicked. It was part of the reason Brightpaw had remained so vibrant and present in Windclan, even in the moons since her death. Jaywing held that spirit, that bright energy. He could feel her shiver beside him. He stared up at the sky. It was a while yet before Silverpelt would speckle the heavens above them. For the moment wisps of gray clouds floated across the expanse of blue. The days had been spattered with intermittent rains, a life-giving force. Trees began to bud. The land was awakening. The rabbits and mice that had spent the winter in hibernation began to emerge, creeping from below the earth to continue the cycle of life. It was a comforting sort of knowledge. Despite everything, life would continue its endless pathway.

Lynxstar rolled back onto his stomach, stretching his paws out. He unsheathed his claws, kneading the grass in a languid stretch. His eyes crinkled as he watched her. Her hope, it was precious. It was a rarity. Too often those who reached adulthood lost all concept of hope. They became jaded, cynical. They spent their lives waiting for the next calamity. He heaved a contented sigh. “Hold on to that hope, my dear.” He held hope, a fragile thing, but he held it. He had lived a long enough life to know the joys of tribulations and the sorrows of unending trials. At times he had to cling, held to his hope by a feeble thread. But he clung. Without it, he knew with a certainty that he would perish.

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“You were very similar, you know.”

A gentle chuckle passed her lips at his comment. Jaywing supposed he was right, looking back on things. Brightpaw was the only sister she had, and even though Fognose was always there for her, she still missed her sister's gleaming eyes more than she could form into words. Brightpaw had spirit and confidence that could only come from a pretty she-cat. Both of them were fairly blunt, and tended to fall for those just out of reach. She remembered her sister had fallen for a newly named warrior, Breezetail. He was a handsome fellow, she had to agree, with a medium pitch black pelt with the most vibrant green eyes she'd ever seen.

"But come on! I need help!" Brightpaw sighed as she trailed behind Jaypaw. The medicine cat apprentice just wanted to go retrieve some juniper berries alone, but her sister insisted on tagging along. Jaypaw had groaned and told her strictly to be quiet while on the walk. Of course Brightpaw had nodded quickly, but as soon as the two stepped foot onto the moors, her mouth had run a mile a minute. "How do I get Breezetail to like me? Please! You're obviously good at it, Tanglepaw likes you!" her sister whined. Jaypaw had gaped at Brightpaw and swatted at her ear.

"I don't know how! And I'm not good at these things! I'm going to be a medicine cat, Brightpaw," the gray she-cat cried. "And no, Tanglepaw doesn't like me!" she added. But with that, she swung around to face her sister and sat back on her haunches. Her sister mirrored her stance. With a sigh, Jaypaw began. "I'll give you some advice if you don't ask me about it again, okay?" Brightpaw nodded quickly. Wracking her brain, she locked her gaze on her sister. "Well, if I were you, I would make conversation with him. Become friends. I know it's not easy, but if you trust each other when you become a warrior, then you're all set. I mean, trust is number one in a relationship. You have to be direct, too. If you like him, tell him, but only when you think you're ready. Okay?"

Brightpaw had stared at her sister, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How do you know all this stuff?" She prodded. Jaypaw shrugged and stood, shaking out her pelt and continuing her walk. "Well. . . thanks, then! I'm gonna go talk to him." Her eyes were sparkling with anticipation.

Jaypaw had laughed at that, and looked over her shoulder at Brightpaw. "Just make sure you tell me when this thing with Breezetail works out, okay? Because I'll be delivering your kittens, and I really would like to know before hand."

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