A Lark's Calling [VA]

[Rose]

Lark
| Female - She/Her | 2 Moon(s) Old |

A small kit sat among the roots of a line hedges that bordered the twolegplace fence. Her gaze was trained firmly on a broken wooden slat in the fence, its panel of wood askew, swung off its nail. Her eyes and posture held such futile hope. Now she waited to see her father's pelt, to hear his purr, have his warmth wrap around her, his scent. To even see the twoleg that was so kind to her, hear her comforting familiar voice. Father always came when she was scared or lost, with a warm purr and gentle paws. But this time, as darkness fell, he wouldn't come. He would never come. And as the day dragged on she finally heard a noise behind her, sentencing her understanding. She looked back and rested her tired eyes on her mother, a beautiful wild cat, standing there, half cast away shadow.

“He's never coming back, is he?” The small kitten whispered despairingly.

[Rose]

Lark
| Female - She/Her | 3 Moon(s) Old | ft. Howler & Fablespinner |

Like all merry stories, Lark’s began on a fine summer day, basking peacefully in the delicious heat of the midsummer sun. Well, it was all very dream-like until someone decided that it would be funny to wake her from her slumber. A quiet snicker sounded on Lark’s left, and the small she-kit tensed her muscles, peering through her lashes at her older brother. Oh, he was dead meat. Another snicker sounded in the small den, and Lark lost all patience.

“HOWLER!” She yelled in exasperation, and then without needing further invitation, popped open her amber eyes, lunged forwards, and tackled her brother to the ground.

“Okay, okay Lark!” Howler gasped through his laughter. “Cut it out!”

“You’re going to pay for waking me up you bee-brain!” Lark promised, stooping as low as to cheat as she continued to tickle him.

Beneath her hold, Howler opened his mouth in protest, and then slammed it shut a moment later, his green eyes widening slightly as a shadow fell over the two of them, blocking the light of the entrance. “Lark.” The newcomer said, utter disdain and icy command evident in the single word. “Unhand your brother.”

Head whipping around in the direction of said shadow, Lark instantly relinquished her hold on her brother, quietly stepping back to producing an apology. “Sorry, mama.” Lark murmured to the elegant brown feline standing infront of her, mouth pulling downward in a small frown.

But Fablespinner was not done berating her daughter. Oh no. She was a feline of regal birth, and any daughter of hers should be raised with proper mannerism. “Have some dignity, you fool. We do not tussle with our siblings. Have you ever seen me fight with your uncles?”

Upon hearing this question, Lark almost succumbed to the desire to say yes, but a sharp look from Howler had her refraining. It would just end her in more trouble, after all.

“For a young lady of such good breeding, you are quite a disappointment. Now, if you've thought out your actions,” Fablespinner sniffed, lime green gaze boring holes into her idiot wimp of a daughter. “It's time you start doing something for the family, like your brother.” Fablespinner's eyes shifted briefly to Howler, and Lark felt a familiar spark of jealousy light in her heart at the warmth she saw there. Lark wanted that approval. Sure, she loved her brother, but Lark would still try her hardest to be the best.

“Come now.” Their mother said, turning to leave the den. “After all, I didn't send Howler in here to wake you up for nothing.”

The sting of rejection stayed with Lark as her mother exited the den, as well as the lingering feeling of betrayal as Howler shot her an apologetic glance. Why hadn't he told her in the beginning, then? Why hadn't he told her that their mother was calling? She would have immediately woken up, and he knew that.

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Lark
| Female - She/Her | 3.5 Moon(s) Old | ft. Howler |

Alone, again.

But that was okay. It was okay. Everything would be okay. The familiar words rang in her head, turning over and over and over again until Lark had no other thought. She would be okay. Because in the end, that was how it turned out. Either she had to force herself to be okay, or she'd get shunned for being too emotional. Too pathetically weak.

That was a lie, was it not? Lark was just as useful as her brother. She was just as important as him. And if Howler cared about her like she did with him, she was important to someone. It wasn't long before her brother found her, and with a grunt, settled down beside her. In response to his arrival, Lark told him what she said every time: “I feel broken.” But instead of responding with the customary reply, Howler said something entirely different.

“You know,” He began slowly, wrapping his short tail around as much as he could of her. “What do you think happens to the chrysalis when the butterfly emerges? It breaks. It is destroyed—but only in the process of becoming something new and better.”

Lark summoned up a crooked smile. “Are you saying I was a worm before?” She asked her brother. But as he shook his head and moved off with a mere pat on her back, Lark went back to contemplating her jumbled life.

She might have emerged from a chrysalis, as Howler wanted to believe; but if so, the wet, limp things on her back could hardly be trusted to carry her aloft. Far more likely that, like that talltale of a cat who'd tried to fly with his makeshift wings, she’d end up plunging into the sea and drown.

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Lark
| Female - She/Her | 3.5 Moon(s) Old | ft. Fablespinner |

"Swimming." From the moment Lark had awoken that day, Fablespinner had thrown her time and time again into the little body of water beside their home. "What did I tell you!" The grey-brown female snapped, lime eyes narrowing with evident distaste. "Pull the water towards you, idiot! Even a turtle could swim faster! Back legs are not for thrashing!"

Kicking mindlessly at the water, Lark struggled against her invisible foe, ears pricked for Fablespinner's words as she prayed to the skies that she wouldn't drown today. Besides, Lark was too young to die, right? Her mind yearned to ask the question she'd been dying to know all day, since the moment she'd been awoken. 'Why do I need to learn this?' But if she even dared voice a single syllable, especially the word 'why', Fablespinner would have her hide.

"YOU'RE HOPELESS!" Came the angry, irritated roar, and Lark glanced up to see her mother seething. The little kitten could feel tears prick at her eyes, threatening to spill over. But her mother would only see that as another weakness to exploit. But Lark couldn't help it! Fablespinner was making no sense! Lark really really wanted to make her mother proud, but it wasn't working. Every day Fablespinner reminded her what a disappointment she was, nothing at all like Howler.

[Rose]

Lark
| Female - She/Her | 3 Moon(s) Old |

'Away,' Her heartbeat thumped, taking over every single fiber of Lark's thoughts. 'Away, away.'

Still breathless, she gained the summit. The little town and harbor looked surprisingly small below; the hill was higher than she’d thought. Two felines walked on the clearing where she'd been, almost out of sight from where she stood. She hoped that Howler was talking sense into her mother.

Now, if only Lark could find some peace for herself. She perched on a boulder and tried to quiet her pounding heart, which seemed to be shaking the very ground beneath her.

No. Bleeding burning skies, the earth was moving, the stones about her rumbling. She stood in alarm, suddenly aware of the very steep drop down to the restless water. The hillside began to slide out from under her, and she scrabbled at the rocks, trying to catch herself.

“LARK!” The young she-cat scarcely heard the rough shout from her brother below as, with horrible slowness, she lost her balance and tumbled down and down into the sea.

With a smack, the lithe grey feline hit the water—painful as a slap from some gigantic paw. She barely had time to gulp in half a breath before her head went under. The sound of the waves filled her ears, and the once-clear sea churned, disorienting her until she did not know up from down.

But she must have air.

Lungs burning, she kicked, hoping desperately that she was pointed toward the surface.

She had to breathe.

Clamping her maw together to keep from gasping in saltwater, Lark tore for the surface as the sea shoved her back and forth. She was probably dangerously near the rocks, but that did not matter if she drowned first. After several thundering heartbeats, her body screaming for air, she managed to kick upward again. The last bit of air escaped from her mouth, silvery bubbles swept away.

She had to breathe.

A black spot formed in her vision, growing larger, larger, until suddenly the restless ceiling over her head broke.

Air.

She pulled in a great, gasping breath, then swallowed seawater and went under again, lungs convulsing. Something bumped against her head and spun away, and she flailed out blindly. Eyes burning from salt, she forced herself to scan the murky blue landscape. There. A black shape, bobbing overhead.

It took all her strength to kick, kick, kick, until she was close enough to grab the thing. Wild creature or bit of upwalker junk, she did not care. Only that it floated and would bear her up. Her head emerged from the water again, and she heaved herself onto the thing. It turned out to be the trunk of an olive tree torn from the ground, branches broken, gray-green leaves sodden. Breathing heavily, it wasn't long until the dark crept into Lark's vision, and all went black.

[Rose]

Howler
| Male - He/Him | ? Moon(s) old | ft. Lark |

Soft pawsteps thudded against the sandy ground as the grey-backed tom made his way to where a limp figure lay. He knew that figure, that familiar lithe silvery shape that he'd grown up beside. Truly, his baby sister's fur shone silver in the moonlight, but as Howler's footfalls drew him nearer, his lime-coloured eyes couldn't ignore that she was soaked to the bone. For a few moments his lungs seemed to squeeze, tightening around his heart and making it hard to breathe. He dearly cared for his sister. For his little Lark. But... Sometimes it felt hard to care. Having grown up under Fablespinner's watch, Howler had not realized how frosty his demeanor had become, how serious. Lark took after Fablespinner's ambition, but she had their father's generous heart. Howler, on the other paw... He had no heart sometimes, much like Fablespinner.

How many times had Howler considered killing Lark, slitting her throat in her sleep so that Fablespinner could lose the burden. And so his mother could be proud that he'd had the guts to do such a thing. To kill his sister in cold blood. It would make Fablespinner proud beyond all doubts. He even considered murdering Lark here and now, while she was unconscious with exertion and semi-filled with sea water. But at the same time, a tiny voice inside Howler argued not to do it.

It made him want to lift his muzzle to the sky and scream. How could he be so cruel yet not at the same time? Looming over his sister, with his short half-stub of a tail swishing soundlessly behind him, Howler stared at his unsheathed claws for a few moments. He could do it. Free her from this endless everyday misery. He knew how fragile Lark had been, how she'd learnt to harden her heart and pretended all the insults Fablespinner threw her way did nothing.

Howler knew she was hurting.

His baby sister was hurting. And all Howler could think about as a solution was ending her life. His shoulders slumped, the grey coat-like marking on his back rippling with tension. Lark didn't deserve such a horrible life. If he wanted to act, he'd best act now. Before Fablespinner tracked him down. Bending lower, Howler slung his much younger sister over his back, taking them both off the beach and into the closest forest. He had heard of the forest Clans. From one of his uncles before Fablespinner had left them. All he could hope now was that Lark would find a better home here than she ever did with him or Fablespinner.

He set her limp form down in a seemingly empty clearing. If there was anything Howler trusted, it was his sister's survival skills. She wasn't nicknamed the cockroach for nothing. Those little bugs were near impossible to kill. ...Not that Howler was calling his sister a bug...

Shaking his head, the lime-eyed tom set to work grooming Lark's fur, expression distant. It wouldn't do for her to die of sickness. Finally, finally, when he was done he stepped back. She'd wake on her own accord. Either she'd set out a path for her own way in life, or some Clan cat would rescue her. Who knew? Howler knew the risks of gambling with fate. And he'd done enough. Turning, the young tom returned to his mother's side where she awaited him. And then he looked his mother straight in the eye and said; "I couldn't find her."

He lied to her face, for the first time in his life.

Howler left the following morning, lime eyes studying Fablespinner as she slept in their shared den. Even in sleep not a fur stood out of place. His mother strove to be a perfect cat, and she pushed her kits in the same direction. But Howler could never be perfect, not the way she wanted him to. So with one last look in his mother's direction, the grey-furred tom stole into the dawn, searching for a new way to spend his life.