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Many had wondered, in the aftermath of Tanglepaw’s death, why Lynxstar had never had further kittens. Many warriors and queens lost kittens. They lost them young, or as apprentices, even as warriors. They mourned, yet many pairs drew strength from each other. They found new joy, in their surviving progeny, in friends, perhaps in losing themselves in their warrior duties. But things had been different for Lynxstar from the very beginning. Tanglepaw had been his only surviving kitten, a precious commodity. Mintdapple had long since been determined as a health risk should she bear more kittens. They both knew Tanglepaw was their only chance, their bright child. And then he had died. And Mintdapple had drifted away. And somehow, Lynxstar had never been able to even fathom finding a new mate, much less having more kittens. None of them would be Tanglepaw. It felt like a betrayal, both against his son and his ex-mate. And eventually, his friends had stopped asking. They had accepted that perhaps he would be better, from that point on, struggling on alone. And even when he’d found someone, someone precious to him, the possibility of offspring had quickly become an impossibility. Lynxstar’s ears twitched and he quickly pushed images away of Froststar’s hard enrapturing blue eyes.

He turned his attention back to Jaywing, returning her gentle smile with one of his own. While he had never said those particular words aloud, he had always hoped that she understood – even without words. He had always defended her, taken care of her. At times he had been in the background, but he had always been there. He would not lose her, as he had lost his dearest Tanglepaw. He heaved a sigh, a purr rumbling in his throat. He rolled, stretching out his paws. He arched his spine, his eyes closing with satisfaction. He rose to his paws, flicking Jaywing gently. “Come along, my dear. The rising sun will scold us if we stay out too long.” He said the words, but he was in truly no hurry to make his way back to camp. He had missed the company, the feeling of someone curled at his side as he slept. He looked down at her, not patronizingly as she spoke, but with affection. He smiled at her, his last piece of wisdom for the evening. “I know, and I would eagerly have taken my son’s place.” He flicked his tail under her chin.

“But you may bring the world her compassion, as you serve it through your healing and spiritual work. You endure, to keep the gifts she could have given alive.” He smiled, shaking his head. It was always said, how Tanglepaw would have made him proud. He chuckled gently, shaking his head. “Tanglepaw made me proud each and every day. And he still makes me proud. He doesn’t have to walk beside me to earn my pride.” He turned, facing the distant direction of the camp. And his words were true, utterly true. Tanglepaw had died with a proud father. There was no need for a warrior name to earn that right. Just as Jaywing had his utter and devoted pride today.

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A few moments of silence stretch between the two before anyone's voice breaks through. In those seconds, her fleeting blue eyes focused on individual clumps of snow that fluttered down from the heavens in front of her face. Despite the coldness of the air, a certain warmth covered Jaywing like a soft blanket. She hadn't planned for their seemingly innocent conversation to spiral into something so deep that it shook her roots and made her feel like a much better cat afterwards. Not that she minded, of course, as these were her favorite ones. Getting to know a cat on such a personal level makes her feel happy. It showed her that they trusted her as a clanmate and medicine cat, and that was all she wanted. A content hum escaped her throat and she almost jumped as Lynxstar pulled her out of her thoughts.


“Come along, my dear. The rising sun will scold us if we stay out too long.” Bunching up her frozen muscles, the medicine cat heaved herself up off of the cold rock. Jaywing allowed herself a moment to shake out her pelt, as if that would shake out the cold. It didn't, but it made her feel better. She flexed her claws before following her bulky leader. She gave him a small smile as he flicked his tail affectionately under her chin. A purr came from her jaws. Jaywing nodded gravely to Lynxstar's words about Brightpaw's compassion. "I suppose I will try to do her some justice," she purred happily.

“Tanglepaw made me proud each and every day. And he still makes me proud. He doesn’t have to walk beside me to earn my pride.” Her dark gray paws step lightly and the faint crunch of snow reached her ears, as well as his words. Jaywing was powerless to his words, she knew they rang with truth so loud that it deafened her. She hadn't really thought about it like that before. Her eyes closed and she took a breath. Yes, she was very proud of her sister. Proud of what she had been and what she would've been, and that made her happy. Opening her eyes, she reminded her to share her thoughts with Fognose. She was sure he'd appreciate it.

Jaywing kept close to Lynxstar, partly because of his uncanny ability to be a wind blocker, and partly because it felt right. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, Lynxstar." She turned her head to look at his profile. "I appreciate it, and I do hope you know that. Not everyone has the bravery to get so personal with me. You know how intimidating I am," she grinned. "I'm fairly sure I could drive away a fox with only one glare. Two at most."

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Lynxstar, for the first time in more moons than he could remember, felt a weight lift from him. Long ago it had settled in his chest. And little by little, it had grown familiar. He had woken to it, and in the same way it had been the last thing to carry him to sleep. At times the weight was exhaustion, grief, stress, sorrow, disappointment. The weight took on many shapes, molded around him to fit him more perfectly than any skin. He had long since stopped trying to identify it. At times he had thought of it as the weight of leadership, others the weight of a father left behind. But eventually he had recognized it for what it was – the weight of life. But that night, that odd cold spoken night, the weight drained away. It slipped, a little at first, then in great whooshing tides. With Jaywing’s words, her quiet stories, her smiles – it was sucked away. And as Lynxstar stood, watching her rise on her youthful little paws, he felt release. He knew, with a calm certainty, that when he awoke to dawn’s light – the weight would return. But for the moment, that blessed moment, he was free.

He felt at peace, an utter peace. He had no questions, no worries. For tonight he had left himself speak. He had let himself voice his fears, his loss, his joys and the memories that had been locked up for too long. For a few hours, on stones frozen by winter’s breath, Jaywing had tapered the flood, she had eased it out of him. When he moved now, walking leisurely beside her, he moved with a new kind of serenity. Even for the unusually broad Windclan tom, he was light on his paws. He smiled, a soft thing. In the very back part of his mind, he still worried over the silence of Starclan. He still grieved. He still found himself preoccupied with an apprentice determined not to learn. But none of it seemed as important, as pressing. None of it threatened to crush him.

He let out a laugh at her words, his deep throaty voice breaking the still of the night. He couldn’t imagine little Jaywing exactly intimidating anything – let alone a fox. She exuded too much gentleness. He gave her a wry glance. “Why else would I trust you to watch my back, if not for the fear you strike into my enemies?” He purred. “For tonight, you have chased an old tom’s loneliness away.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. The collection of stones that made up their camp was looming in the distance. Despite the deep black that surrounded them, morning was no more than a few hours off. And all too soon he would find himself back in his empty den, surrounded by his own stale scent. Yet he smiled, he laughed, for tonight he would sleep well.

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Jaywing raised her pale chin to the cold sky. She couldn't wait for the beaming sun rays to ignite her fur with their warmth. Unfortunately she didn't have the long, flowing fur of her friend--father figure--and so she was stuck with a short one that offered almost no protection from the chilly breeze. She often thinks that wind shouldn't really bother her, after all, because she was in WindClan for a reason. But she shrugged it off. There were more important things to think about other than why she was cursed with her mother's pelt.

“Why else would I trust you to watch my back, if not for the fear you strike into my enemies?” She laughed at the older brute, though she was grateful that he went along. Honestly, she probably couldn't even scare a kit away with her glare. Well, maybe a kit. She could be a bit snappy when irritated. But probably not an apprentice, definitely not a warrior, and certainly not a leader. It didn't bother her much though. “For tonight, you have chased an old tom’s loneliness away.”

"Ah, but you have exchanged the favor," Jaywing purred as she flicked her tail gently at his furry flank. She really wasn't used to talking about Brightpaw. Of course the medicine cat thought about her all the time, but it wasn't the same. Something about voicing all the things that went on in her mind brought her comfort, as it did to Lynxstar. She did enjoy conversing about his beloved Tanglepaw as well, because it gave them both a bit--perhaps not a lot, but a bit--of closure. She admitted to herself tonight that if perhaps he had still been alive, she would have had some issues to sort out. If the medicine cat path was really hers to take, and if she continued to follow it, could she hurt herself and Tanglepaw in the process? She would have loved to become part of his family and Lynxstar's. But his death, although heart-wrenching, was the end of the wondering.

She still remembers his vigil, a quiet night on the moors. She thought the stars had been especially bright that night, but perhaps it was just in her head. She had taken a seat close to Lynxstar. Jaywing remembered the raw, emotional waves pulsing off their leader as if she could reach out and grab them with her tiny dark paws. She'd almost moved away to give him more space, but in the end she figured her could use the closeness. Today she'd felt the waves again, but they were duller and not as strong. Plus, jaywing had seen a new kind of happiness in his old gaze that made her think he would one day come to complete peace with his son's death. And one day their paths would cross in another starry land. She thinks that that is when true serenity will find him.

"Are you excited to see him again? In Silverpelt?" She turned her head to him. She shook her head once, then opened her jaws to clarify. "I don't mean excited about passing on, if it sounded like that. I just mean, are you looking forward to being in his presence again?" Jaywing flicked an ear. "I can't wait to see both of them again, in the stars."

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Lynxstar mulled for a moment. He had never truly achieved closure over his son’s death. How could he? It was an impossible question. But in the many moons, in the years, since the unspeakable loss – Lynxstar had come to a conclusion. Tanglepaw had been his impetus. The little tom was a guide, too precious for the world. He’d had a role to play, a position to fill. Lynxstar had been a mere warrior when his son had been killed. He’d had no dreams of authority, no taste for leadership. It was likely, had Tanglepaw survived, Lynxchaser would have been content with nothing more than the life of warrior and father. But it was the little tom’s death, the grieving and mourning, that had driven Lynxstar forward. He had devoted himself to his warrior life, in a pathetic attempt to stave off his sorrow. He had hardened, aged, yet become something new. And it was this new reborn creature that became deputy, that took the mantle of leadership of Windclan. In no way did Lynxstar think Tanglepaw deserved his death. Nor did he succumb to that idea of his son having been “meant” to die. Yet unintentionally, by a twist of whim and fate, Tanglepaw had become his impetus, his driving force.

Lynxstar canted his head at Jaywing. Her words settled in his mind. A slight frown took over his lips – not of anger or any such negative emotion. Rather he found himself plunged into thought. He could not, of course, reveal to Jaywing that he had already been reunited with Tanglepaw. He would never tell a soul of the precious life Tanglepaw had bestowed on him during his leadership ceremony. Even Jaywing, a blessed messenger of Starclan, was forbidden to know his secrets. At the time of his ceremony, Jaywing had not yet become the Medicine Cat. She was still young, still apprenticed. And the old Medicine Cat, the only one who knew the secrets of his ceremonies, had long since died. He took a breath, wishing desperately he could reveal to her. Instead he shook his head, his lips twitching. “Our reunion is inevitable. I know yearning and anticipation will only lose precious minutes of the lives I have been given.” He looked to her, his gaze warm. “But from the moment we are reunited, I know I will spend every moment of eternity with him. I will race at his side, see him become the warrior he always was.” He took a breath, satisfaction at the dream he held near. He canted his head, imparting a last piece of wisdom for the setting day.

“My grief does not inhibit the wondrous existence of my present life. I live every day, content as I sleep to know I will wake the next.” The entrance of the camp loomed before them. The night guard dipped his head as the duo silently passed into the clearing. The pure scent of Windclan washed over them. Lynxstar drew in a breath. The dark opening of his den, empty but for his own stale scent, loomed on the far side. He turned a glance to Jaywing. “Do not grieve, my child.” He smiled again, pressing his nose gently to her forehead. “Starclan has a habit of sending those we most need to spread their word.” And he hadn’t a doubt, that when the time came for a message to be sent, Brightpaw would carry it on light feet to an eager heart. Lynxstar turned then, his long fluffy tail vanishing into the darkness of his den.

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Her petite paws walked the path back to camp next to his large ones. She could see the camp--their home--not too far off. A sense of finality flowed through her as she knew this night was coming to an end. Jaywing didn't want it to, though. She could live in this night for a lifetime and it still wouldn't be enough. Because afterwards, she knew why tonight had Lynxstar's gaze gleaming. Talking about the lost ones make them feel as if they are here again. Jaywing especially knows that they never really leave you. They watch with wise eyes from above. But some nights she hates it. Some nights it's not enough. Because Brightpaw is up there and she's not. Tanglepaw is up there and he's not.

But tonight she felt as if she could reach out with her paw and touch both of them. And she liked it. She didn't want to leave it behind. However it was inevitable, just like many other things in life. As a medicine cat she has seen the life of a cat slowly seep out of their body. She has seen kits mewling and mothers staring wide-eyed at her kits that she already loves too much to express in words. She's also seen mates fretting over each other in her little den, asking her if they'll be okay when the wound was just a superficial scratch. Jaywing knew how things worked.

“But from the moment we are reunited, I know I will spend every moment of eternity with him. I will race at his side, see him become the warrior he always was.” She glanced at him as these words left his jaws and she nodded because she knew this already. Tanglepaw had always represented what was just out of reach--for both of them, really. And when Lynxstar joins the ranks in the stars, she knows he will love his son even more than he had, if it's possible.

Their steps cross into the familiarity of the Windclan camp and it's homey scent washes over her. She flashed a quick smile to the warrior on duty before following Lynxstar. “My grief does not inhibit the wondrous existence of my present life. I live every day, content as I sleep to know I will wake the next.” Jaywing felt any remaining sadness ebb away at his humble statement. She finds herself silently vowing to do the same. She locks it in a steel cage and tucks it behind her heart because she knows she'll need to pull it out later. She watches him turn and as his gaze falls upon her for the last time tonight, a warmth only his eyes can give spreads from her nose to her toes. “Do not grieve, my child.” Jaywing closes her eyes and a shiver runs down her spine at his words. Or maybe it was his nose touching her forehead that caused it. She wasn't sure, but she opened her blue gaze as she heard his baritone voice speak once more.

“Starclan has a habit of sending those we most need to spread their word.”

Her eyes burned as she watches him turn tail and pad almost silently back into the dark depths of his den. His scent still lingers, as well as she. Her paws must be drilled into the ground because she can't seem to move. Taking a shaky breath, she blinks once before searching Silverpelt. Their sparkling light gazed back down on her. Though silent, they still seem to have a power that attracted her to them from the beginning. That seems to give her the strength she needs, and she backs from his den. Before quietly turning toward her own den, she glances back at Lynxstar's den. She knows he is long gone, but she speaks nonetheless.

"Goodnight, Lynxstar."

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