It was rare for Shockholly to take much interest in the world of the living. After all, there was plenty of good hunting and her new little family to keep her occupied: a lovely mate that thought the world of her and a beautiful kitten who thought she was the coolest thing ever.
However, with her beloved becoming more and more obsessed with the ongoings of the living, desperately trying to help the Clan's find order for their healers, and little man having taken in his mother's footsteps, there was only so much hunting she could do before she realized how pointless her existence had become.
There were no patrols to be completed, no battles to be won, no political tensions to ease over. Everything in StarClan was boring. Sure, no one always agreed on things, but rather than it turning up anything, everyone just ignored each other until the fight was nothing more than a distant, faded memory.
Death seemed to have sucked the life, the passion, and all emotion out of everyone. And so, with nothing else to turn to, when her family we're busy with the ambitions for the living, she too turned her gaze to the worldly. To home.
Her heart ached to see the mess WindClan had become. Even with Twilightstar still at the helm, the Clan was in shambles, even before Fallownose's death. Perhaps his inactivity before the end was only a symptom of an underlying issue that Shockholly had no name for that threatened and stalked the Clan like a hungry shadow, seeking to eat everything that made the Clan what it was, the hope, the joy, their determination....
She couldn't imagine why her family was so interested in watching the living. It was all so depressing, so familiar to when she'd been alive, though she supposed for a kitten who never had a life to live, it was something he coveted. Purpose, perhaps.
Though she did not know if either of them ever found it in speaking to the living.
She enjoyed the more frequent events, whenever the state of the Clan wasn't bogging her down. It was her favourite part of looking in, to see hope rekindled on their faces, the undying flame that beat at WindClan's heart that she'd always remembered so clearly.
She missed it.
Missed it so clearly, and it was a stark, and harsh contrast to the state the Clan was in otherwise. Where had the spark gone, that it only lived in the briefest of moments now?
It was the only time she could make herself pay attention. The latest event, one held by someone vaguely familiar to her, a tom she'd seen spend many days by her mate's side when she'd lost her memory and was too weak to care for herself. When she'd been too scared to approach, so worried she'd cause her stress.
Crowtooth, she remembered.
When her beloved had recovered, had begun life as a warrior, she'd spoken of him often when she wasn't bemoaning the abuse her daughter subjected her to. She'd loved Crowtooth, like a mother would love her son.
It had always been a regret, that she'd never thanked him.
Shockholly could not remember what had kept her from doing so, and could only assume she worried if she'd approached him, he might give her that look of pity everyone would always give her. Or worse, would hate her, would lash out, would be angry that she'd failed them all.
Perhaps it was best she hadn't spoken to him, because the long legged warrior had started many fights with those who dared treat her with cruelty. She'd been most upset when Gulltwist turned on her.
Shockholly had rooted for that little punk, once. Had meticulously nursed the apprentice back to health when she couldn't be bothered to care for herself, when her mother's absence made her hate herself...
And she'd abandoned her to that fate. She hadn't meant to. You can't exactly control when death comes knocking, coming to claim what should have returned to it seasons before.
Shockholly regretted it, still, more that she'd never visited her. Regretted that it took the other's death for them to re-connect.
No, she decided, drawing her attention back to the present. It would not have ended well, if Crowtooth had reacted emotionally. The idea of yet another that she loved betraying her would not have settled well with Shockholly.
But the Crowtooth of today had grown into a fine young man, even by her lesbian standards. She watched, and listened as the tunneler spoke, and weaved the tales of ancient stories long forgotten.
One in particular caught the dark furred warrior's attention, a story of a landscape dotted with bad prey, feasted on by a winged and flighty menace. Attacking the denizens on the land they poached upon when the cats dared try to venture from their tunnels to provide for themselves.
Quite a few in the crowd seemed enthralled and enraptured by the tale, taking a keen interest in the practice of hunt birds that would otherwise be a threat to a cat.
Pride burned in her white-spotted chest, remembering that for her assessment, she'd brought down a buzzard. That pride fizzled out, and formed an idea when Crowtooth spoke more of the aftermath of these events, and more cats had their interest piqued.
She could teach them, she realized. She could teach her Clan a skill that once their history, that invoked awe among the younger cats.
It would, perhaps, inspire WindClan to connect them with their roots.
Her pelt buzzed with excitement as she sat for the rest of the tales, though found her shifting the focus of what her glimpse into the living world would take hold of. There were several warriors she took interest in, had been alive when she'd been, a connection that burned bright in her mind. She noted a few more, cats with a passing interest in the tale, and formulated her little plans.
Group training? No, not for all of them.
She wanted to seek out Wolffang, her kin, and Crowtooth separately. They'd much to speak of should either recognize her. But then who did that leave.... Bravebird and Mosspaw as the only other definite choices. Hm, well those two would hardly make much of a group on their own.
Perhaps one-on-one for all of them was in order. Yes, it would give her time to perfect what she wanted to teach and how she'd teach it, and time to find others who might desire such training as well.
It also gave her plenty to do when her mate was otherwise occupied herself.
________________
It took Shockholly awhile to figure out how to do it, how to draw the living into a crafted little dreamscape, even with her much more knowledgeable mate directing her actions. She'd practiced for a bit on kittens, too young to remember the awkward encounter with a warrior who could barely grasp the concept of dream crafting.
When she was confident in her repeated successes, she'd thanked the long bodies molly for her help, and struck out to try on her own, for realsies this time.
She spent time rolling around the names in her head, wondering who she should contact first. Then, a clear answer came to mind.
Crowtooth.
He'd been the one to give her this idea .... Would it not also make sense he be who she speaks to first? He might have insight into ways to convince the others, of names she hadn't considered might also wish to share this knowledge.
Yes, him.
She closed her eyes, focused on him and everything that made him who he was, everything he was to others.
Dearest tunneler and story crafter, WindClan's brightest, loyal and loving, and dearly missed by her beloved.
And then, when she felt the connection spark, she pulled, ever so gently on that tether. She pulled and coaxed until there was a shift in the air around her.
And so, she opened her eyes, and nearly beamed as she saw the cat that had once been her clanmate.
[ @
Rani ]
Across The River
