- 2784
- #1
Dapplelight’s days had been a waking nightmare since waking to find Thistlefur gone. It was almost impossible to keep going after that - the elders had been torn into, and misery more deadly than any drought gnawed in the old cat’s belly and muttered in her ears. But the clan had seen new life, and a new leader, and perhaps, the barest whisper of new hope. Something in Dapplelight had hardened, and a kind of furious determination possessed the old she-cat, her wiry limbs moving almost in spite of themselves. She was up before the sun, and out as much as possible, resting when the younger cats demanded it, or when Swallowtail almost bit her ear off with the force of her chastising. Perhaps it was determination, or Thistlefur’s burning spirit close by she felt. Or maybe it was the thought of returning to the elder’s den, sleeping every night by the memories of her friend, curled like a heavy weight in an empty nest.
“Dapplelight…”
She turned and purred at the young black and white tom, Swallowtail’s kit’s kit, and nodded her head. The new deputy was organising hunting patrols, and she knew she’d be called on to hunt. She was grateful that Damsonflower didn’t leave her and Swallowtail out- appreciating that they would likely crawl the walls of the ravine with guilt and grief if they were made to stay behind whilst most other cats were out working to survive. She squared her shoulders determinedly and nodded, ready to hear where she would be sent on patrol.
The sand coloured cat hunted down in the old riverbed, where the dusty colour of the sand coated her and camouflaged her. She stalked lizards as they skittered restlessly across the dry channels of what once had been the centre of the clan’s life. How for granted they had taken the river until it was stolen. Red dirt got redder with blood as Dapplelight sunk her teeth into the neck of a squealing rabbit, a lucky catch, one that she panted and heaved to get back up the bank of the missing river. By the time she’d hauled it back to the camp, day had worn into evening, and her legs were shaking with effort, but she deposited it proudly on the fresh kill pile, snatching a mouthful before sinking into her nest with the exertions of the day. Night came back around again and she slept uneasily, hearing mewling of young rabbits in her dreams that turned to her own yowling on that awful morning.
***
The dust in the territory was making it difficult to keep clean, and the lack of water made washing an arduous task. Dapplelight dragged her dry tongue through her fur, doing her best to smooth it down and yawned. She would head out again and find something to bring back, even if she had to walk all over the mountains. The riverbed was empty that day, so her feet whisked her into the trees, padding as silently as she could whilst covering ground. Heartbreakingly, she realised too late that there was a blackbird ahead, and could only watch, claws churning the dirt below her in frustration, as it startled and fled into the pale sky, a flurry of movement. She bit back sobs and growls and sat in the dirt, gazing into the distance and wishing desperately that she could have fled into the sky as well. She wished no-one had stayed for the elders, and she wished the two legs would grant them any kind of reprieve.
That evening she returned empty pawed, quiet and moody. But her clanmates would never receive the harsh side of her temper- she sweet old cat remained gentle with them, her wavering voice still sweet as she told of the glory days of Mountainclan, long past anyone’s memories but hers and Swallowtail’s. She purred with bittersweet laughter remembering the adventures and danger she and the others had gotten into when they were younger, and wondering quietly how their departed clanmates were doing. She hoped, silently, that they were better off than the ones who had remained.
***
Others were working even harder than she did- age and condition kept her from doing everything she wanted to, and she knew her clanmates were out even longer than her, tracking down prey and searching every corner of the mountains for sustenance to bring back to the clan. One afternoon, Dapplelight came across Streamheart as she was searching in the old riverbed once again, both she-cats tracking a stale trail to nothing. Streamheart looked thin and exhausted, and Dapplelight knew their clanmates were worried about the she cat. For all the elder was running herself ragged hunting, she was still sure to eat, and she knew the younger cat was not. But Streamheart was as stubborn as the mountain itself, and Dapplelight hadn’t the energy to argue for long- nor the conviction. With Rainbowfish and Silverstreak having a litter of kits, there was even more pressure to bring home prey.
“We can hunt together, but only if you swear to rest once we find prey,” Dapplelight mewed sternly. Streamheart scuffed her paws, not meeting Dapplelight’s eye. The golden cat sighed and dipped her head.
“You wont survive long enough to help if you’re too ill and too hungry to hunt,” Dapplelight’s voice was softer this time, but equally firm. Streamheart’s eyes widened slightly.
“I ate recently, Dapplelight,” the she-cat insisted, and Dapplelight forced herself to keep her expression neutral. The cat was too sick to realise her lies were increasingly unconvincing. But what could she really say to argue? She knew everyone was in the same position. How many times had she refused requests, pleading and instructions from her clanmates to rest? The simple truth was that they wouldn’t survive without food.
“Let’s get moving then,” she said, after a long stare at Streamheart. The she-cat seemed grateful for the fact that Dapplelight’s lecture was over, and they followed the scent. It didn’t lead anywhere, but after what felt like the entire day of searching, the two cats cornered a pigeon that must have wandered into the woods from the nearby two leg dens, up where the new, eerie lake was. They carried it silently between themselves back to camp, with nothing else to say. They had stayed out far longer than they had both agreed with one another, but there was nothing to do. The clan needed feeding.
***
Some days she struggled to move at all. Whether from misery, grief, hopelessness or hunger, it was hard to say. The days whirled on into one another, and opening her eyes to face each one in turn became more and more torturous. There was nothing but the endless dry hunger and the quiet of camp. But one day kittens had suddenly become apprentices and Dapplelight felt half normal for the first time since Thistlefur had died as she watched the apprentice ceremony, calling the new ‘paws names with a croaking voice. That day, she went out again, newly determined and a little lighter than she had felt before. She caught a mouse in the roots of a gnarled old pine tree, high up the mountain slopes, and a lizard in the riverbed. Things could happen. Life could return. Some day, the peaks might once again be full of life. Dapplelight returned to the camp contented and quiet, and slept soundly. She still woke up missing Thistlefur, but felt her presence more softly. She hoped her friend would have been proud of her if she were there. She wished she’d been this determined while she had been.
***
Soon, Dapplelight thought, out hunting at sunset as the evening started to cool and the first few signs of leaf-fall began to set in, we will be experts at hunting in these harsh conditions. It seemed impossible they might thrive ever again- every cat was desperately hungry, and the entire clan seemed to be clinging to existence by the tips of it’s claws- but the fact that they had endured this long was already incredible to the old cat. She had never worked like this, not even when she was an apprentice, not even through disease and frozen leaf-bare and battles with rogues and loners. It was a humiliatingly slow fight for survival, not a glorious battle, but the cats who had remained stubbornly in the mountains were surely as glorious as any great sunclan cat of legend. Every pawstep felt harder than the last, but somehow the struggle drove her on, as though she was climbing a steep cliff and would reach the summit at any moment. She hoped she’d survive to see the view when they had gotten where they were going.
Dapplelight froze as she heart rustling noises nearby and gazed towards the noise, seeing a blackbird hopping amongst the leaves in the dim twilight. Not this time, she thought, hardly breathing as she focussed on angling her body, every muscle tensed until she felt she might burst from the anticipation. She sprang and slammed down onto it, trapping it under her claws before it realised she was there. It had been out a little late - the prey must be desperate in the territory too, she mused, as she picked it up and turned for home.
When she arrived back at camp, a few cats were already asleep, but some were still awake. Swallowtail blinked in surprise and purred appreciatively - Dapplelight deposited the bird at her friend’s paws and gave her a kind but hard stare, watching until Swallowtail had taken a bite. Knowing that was the best she was likely to get, Dapplelight took the rest of the blackbird to the fresh kill pile, snatching a couple of mouthfuls herself before returning to sit with Swallowtail, who was gazing at the reflections of last rays of sunlight on a few wisps of distant cloud.
A long silence passed between the two elders, before Dapplelight spoke.
“I don’t suppose it will be long before we join her in the sunset,” she said, voice sounding unfamiliar in her own ears.
“Probably not, no,” murmured Swallowtail in reply, so quiet her voice was barely above a whisper, not taking her eyes from the hazy rays of pink as they deepened to violet. After a long pause, she said, “I’d rather us than anyone else, though,” finally taking her eyes from the sky to blink at Dapplelight.
Dapplelight nodded, voice tight with emotion. “Me too.”
***
The arrival of the gregarious loner, Thomas, had prompted quite the talk within the clan, and sitting regarding him from across the clearing with Swallowtail, Dapplelight felt a little of their old humour return, although it stung with the absence of Thistlefur. “Well he’s sure loyal to Zoey, anyway,” she purred, finding it hard not to chuckle. Was she delirious with hunger? Swallowtail muttered another smart comment and the two elders chuckled so loudly that the ginger tom glanced their way, which only compounded their amusement. Dapplelight felt quite guilty after their performance - as badly needed as it was - and trotted over to him as cats headed out on hunting patrols.
“Don’t mind us,” she said kindly, “We just haven’t had much to gossip about for a while, but we don’t mean any harm. We’re all really glad of the extra paws.”
Thomas blinked, seemingly taken aback, before dipping his head politely. “Oh, I don’t take no offence, honest,” he said earnestly, and Dapplelight instantly warmed to him. “Ah, good, you’re thick furred. That’ll help you out.” She nodded towards the exit of the ravine. “Want me to show you my hunting spots? We can talk about those kits of yours on the way,” she purred, her eyes twinkling. Thomas hadn’t made a secret of his desire for knowledge of his children - in fact, he had done the opposite, and he followed Dapplelight eagerly, bombarding her with questions that were nothing but a delight to answer as they headed towards the dry riverbed.
Dapplelight opened her mouth as they approached to tell the tom to quieten down, but Thomas had already dropped into a hunting crouch, and Dapplelight raised her eyebrows, impressed. He had arrived to the clan with groundhog, which had already endeared him to most of the clan, and he was clearly determined to keep up the good impressions. Dappelight peered into the dry riverbed, scenting the air. Rat, relatively nearby - she couldn’t hear it, but the scent was fresh. “I’ll cross and come down the other side of the bank,” she breathed, and Thomas nodded, intensely focussed. The old cat crossed into the riverbed and hopped up the other side, tail waving to steady herself.
Silently, they both crept along the banks, and slowed to an agonisingly careful crawl as the sound of the rat shuffling about came within earshot. The creature was a little ahead of them, and Dapplelight indicated to Thomas with her head to go ahead. She would jump into the riverbed behind it and scare it right into his paws. She watched him get into position, ready to pounce, and she prepared to jump herself. Right as she was tensing to scare it, the earth of the riverbank crumbled under her foot as she lent forwards, and she went tumbling gracelessly into the riverbed with a yowl of surprise.
Coughing, she sprang to her paws, cursing her luck. “Of all the rotten-“ she snarled, looking for Thomas. That might be the only prey they’d find all day, and she’d ruined their catch with her clumsiness.
“Are you alright there?” He bounded over to her, and she sighed, nodded and shaking her pelt out crossly.
“What a mouse brained mistake— I’m sorry Thomas, we could’ve caught that rat!”
“Oh!” Thomas’ face lit up and he turned and bounded back to where he’d been waiting. Dapplelight gasped in delight and went to join him, where he was stood proudly over the rat. “Well done!” She purred, eyes sparkling with joy. The tom ducked his head bashfully, but she could tell he was proud as anything as he retrieved the prey. Good. He’d done well.
***
The camp was starting to feel like a shadow of how it had felt in the old days, although it felt a lot more like it had felt in the run up to the clan fragmenting. They had a leader, and a deputy, they had apprentices training and their numbers, somehow, were rising. Dapplelight cleaned herself after another hunting patrol - one from which she’d returned with a single lizard- barely a mouthful, but everything was something. She was letting her eyes close lazily when she noticed Tigersun approaching her, and she opened her eyes, sitting up straighter and nodding at him respectfully. He blinked in return and paused in front of her.
“Dapplelight,” he began, sounding characteristically serious, “You’ve been doing a lot of hunting.”
Dapplelight tilted her head curiously, trying to place the tone that was edging into his voice. “Well, we all have, haven’t we,” she replied cautiously, eyes wide.
“Yes, but, you should have earned your rest in the elders den,” he said, expression troubled. Dapplelight suddenly realised that Tigersun looked almost guilty. He felt bad that she and Swallowtail were having to hunt. It was such a responsibility to fall on him, to try and guide the clan through such times. Dapplelight knew exactly what to say.
“You’ve given us hope back, Tigersun. We needed a leader and you stepped forwards. Thanks to you, we’re a clan again. That’s worth a few extra moons of work, I’d say.”
The younger cat looked a little taken aback, but eventually his expression smoothed, and he nodded. “…. Thank you, Dapplelight, for your contributions,” he rumbled, and she nodded at him, stifling a purr of amusement. He was a noble leader, but he clearly still regarded her the way he had when he was a kit. He turned to leave, but then quickly paused and looked over his shoulder, expression suddenly stern.
“Don’t overdo it,” he insisted firmly, “We are a clan —we shoulder one another; don’t fall from a burden best shared.” She was surprised into nodding in agreement before she really realised what was happening. “Of course, Tigersun,” she managed, and he nodded, seeming to finally be satisfied, and walked away.
***
Dapplelight was tired, aching and sore. She knew she couldn’t do this forever. But she roused herself, tail trailing past Thistlefur’s nest in a comforting gesture of solidarity and tribute as she left. She’d throw herself into hunting again and again, and like the mountain itself, Mountainclan would endure.
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