a dream can be cruel when it haunts you like this (shadowfur va #1)

[occultation]

Whack, whack, whack. Duck. Whack, whack, whack.

No more running. No more running.

Whack, whack, whack. Duck. Whack, whack, whack.

30-some-odd moons he’d been dragging his feet, promising himself that one day he’d make it up to him. He’d find a way to make it okay, even if he had to travel to the ends of the world.

Whack, whack, whack. Duck. Whack, whack, whack.

Loyalty to survival had always been his mantra. His motivation for training, for pushing himself, for doing pretty much anything, really. Things are different now.

Whack, whack, whack. Duck. Whack, whack, whack.

He was loyal to his goals now. His vision of what life could be, should be, would be. Trudging through life surviving, only ever dreaming about something more- that wasn’t good enough. The right answer, the path to making peace with what he’d done- it wouldn’t fall in his nest just because he survived long enough, or because he got lucky.

Whack, whack, whack. Duck. Whack, whack, whack.

If the world he lived in couldn’t give him what he wanted, what he needed? Well, then he’d give it to himself.

Whack, whack, whack. Duck. Whack, whack, whack, whack.

He stopped. Out of rhythm. The tree trunk in front of him had been beat to all hell anyways.

Shadowfur shook his paws, shaking off little bits of bark. A splinter caught his eye, jutting out from one of his toes. How long had that been there for? It certainly didn’t hurt like it should’ve.

Chalking it up to adrenaline, he shook his head and pulled it out himself. Spitting it off to the side, he turned and lumbered back towards his den. He’d bulked up over the past season, thanks in no small part to Khabib’s hunting skills and the plentiful prey of the area.

That, and day after day of nothing but training.

He knew few cats would understand why he was doing this. Why he’d left his Clan, the one he’d wanted so badly to lead, to run off into the outskirts. Why he’d deliberately put himself in danger- sleeping out in the rain, tangling with rats, mink, and other cats, jumping from heights too high to really be safe.

Shadowfur felt Khabib understood. Of all the cats in the world, he perhaps was the one who best understood that fire burning within him. The desire to avenge what had happened so long ago now. So many other cats would’ve told him to just move on. Khabib knew better.

He couldn’t move on.

It was his fault that Alderpaw was gone. His cowardice, his inability to act. There would be no true peace for him until he avenged his friend.

Carefully, Shadowfur followed the path he’d grown used to. Claws scraped against slippery stones as he crossed behind a pounding waterfall, into the small alcove behind it. Here was where he’d made his home for several moons now, after taking it from another loner.

A crow awaited him, still fresh and warm. Khabib had been here recently, then. Green eyes looked around for a sign that his friend was still here, but found none. Then again, Khabib had a distinct ability to only make himself known when he wanted to be seen.

Settling down into a loaf position, he tucked into the crow. As he ate, he allowed his mind to wander. As it often did during times when it wasn’t occupied by something else, it returned to his memories of ShadowClan. Of his former Clanmates, the territory he’d once been happy to call home, his former apprentices-

It was at that point that he shut his mind down, refusing to entertain its nostalgia any further. If only he could think of home without thinking of them- that would be nice, for once.

“That’s certainly a face.”

His eyes snapped to a figure standing at the entrance to his den. A slender, mottled molly was looking at him with a half-amused, half-serious face. If Shadowfur had been wittier, he would’ve commented on how she was making an equally as interesting face.

Instead, he sprang to his paws, a deep growl bubbling up from somewhere in his chest. His claws were out as he took a step forward, fur fluffing out.

Where most cats would have run or responded with anger, she simply rolled her eyes. Shadowfur didn’t back down, although internally his interest and curiosity was piqued.

“Put your claws away, Shadowfur. I’m not going to hurt you. If I wanted to do that, I would’ve jumped on you while you were off in whatever land your mind was in.”

She did have a point. Besides, if she knew his name, chances were good she had a reason for being here beyond wanting his food or his den. The growl in his throat died and his fur returned to its normal (albeit still floofy) state, but his claws remained out.

He simply stared at her, waiting for her to express her reason for being here. These days, he found himself even less inclined to make small talk than he used to be.

After accepting that this tom wasn’t interested in having any sort of conversation, the molly sighed and said, “Khabib sent me here. My name is Lily; I was a friend of his a long time ago. We reconnected recently. In talking, I found out that I have some information you might be interested in.”

“Oh?”

“My brother was part of a group- I don’t remember what they called themselves. Ragtag bunch of cats, only numbered five or six but acted like they were much larger and more important. Anyways, he told me about a cat they kept to raise their kits, take care of their ill and injured.

“He’s a pretty sorry-looking fellow, all battered up. Missing an eye, covered in scars. Got pretty red fur otherwise, though. Hearing about your Alder…paw, it sounds like him. Khabib thought so too, which is why he sent me here. Assuming they’re in the same place, I think I can tell you where your friend might be.”

That got him to sheathe his claws.