Sleepy Thicket

[occultation]

Slatestripe carefully scraped away the snow around the roots of a towering oak tree. He ignored the stinging in his pawpads as the cold crystals scraped against his paws. A gray stone with two dark spots sat to his left, nestled gently in the snow. Beside it, a dead mouse sat.

The ground beneath the snow was frozen, but that didn’t matter. There was no body to bury. The warrior’s eyes were dark and focused. This was a monument, not a grave. It was a tribute to the greatest cat he’d ever known.

Slatestripe had spent the past quarter moon scouring the woods, trying desperately to find his mother. He’d searched every mouse-length of these woods, every last bit of the beach, and the depths of the pond and rivers. Nothing. No trace of her scent. No body. No signs of a scuffle.

Finally, in the dead of night two days ago, he’d accepted that she was gone. The childhood story he’d been told of old cats going off into the woods to die alone had finally come true for him. He just wished he could’ve found the body.

Slatestripe had told Rainglow of his plans to hold a funeral for Amberbright, but his brother wasn’t here yet. Slatestripe had no doubt he’d come. He had to.

The wind whistled through the woods, breaking the heavy silence. High above, branches swung and creaked. Sitting down before the space he’d cleared, Slatestripe took a deep breath.

“Mom,” he began. His voice cracked a little. “I remember when I was a kit, and I had a bad dream about you dying. I distanced myself from you a lot after that, and you couldn’t figure out why. Finally, after almost a quarter moon, I told you. Do you remember what you said? You said, ‘I plan on being here for a long time, Slatekit. But one day, I will die. When the cats we love are alive, we should make as many memories as we can with them. We shouldn’t close ourselves off to those we love, out of a misguided belief that it will stop us from experiencing the pain of loss. That pain will come, no matter what you do. And when it does, the only way that cat remains alive with you is in your memory. Take every opportunity to build those memories with those you love. Don’t put those chances off, because one day you won’t be able to any longer.’”

His voice was full of emotion. “After that, I set out to make as many memories as I could with you. We played, told each other stories trying to outdo each others’ creativity, and talked about our friends and family. I sought you out for advice, I shared every accomplishment, and every failure. When the days get long, when the world gets cold and harsh, I will turn to those memories and pull them close to me. I’ll look to them as a reminder that there’s love and warmth out there, and that now it’s my responsibility to share that with someone.“

Turning, he gently picked up the stone in his jaws and set it in the center of the area he’d cleared out. To him, the light stone represented his mother. The two dark spots represented her sons, who were always part of her. Grabbing a stick, he laid it across the stone, to signal to any cat who saw it that this stone was placed here deliberately.

Then, he turned his attention to the mouse. “Amberbright.” It felt weird to say his mother’s name. But, this was how the ceremony he’d come up with was supposed to go. “Elder of RiverClan. On behalf of the cats of this Clan, I thank you for your service. Your warmth, dedication, and generosity will be remembered.” With a quick, efficient slice, Slatestripe bled the mouse. He covered a paw in its blood and pressed that paw against a smooth part of the oak. Then, he used a toe to put a slash through the pawprint. Finally, that same toe was used to make a circle that started and ended on the same end of the slash. The symbol of a cat who died of old age.

Wiping his paw clean on the snow, Slatestripe then bowed his head. He remained silent and still for a moment, before raising his head again. He knew the blood would fade with time and would have to be refreshed. Eventually, he hoped to find a more permanent solution. But, for now this would work.

A soft breeze rippled through his fur. “I love you, mom.”

( @~Eclipse_Lake~ )

[Wingnettle]

Mintpaw (she/her)
White fur with shades of grey and blue eyes



· · ─────── ·✧· ─────── · ·

Mintpaw had noticed the dark warrior sneaking out of camp alone. His expression had been... odd, distant. He had walked until he'd reached the Sleepy Thicket, a place she knew was for the fallen warriors. A cemetery for Riverclan. Maybe I should head back.

But then Slatestripe started speaking in low voice, performing some sort of ritual. She'd never seen or heard of such a practice for the dead ones; who was his mentor saying goodbye to?
She perked her ears and caught some words brought to her by the chilly breeze... an elder of Riverclan... mom.

Mintpaw's chest suddenly ached, for she felt pain for a cat she'd never known. No, it wasn't for her. It's for Slatestripe.
Seeing the huge warrior so vulnerable... it changed her vision of many things. This was the first time she felt grief - even thought it wasn't hers, she was sharing it with someone else.
No. Even when Lilyleaf was breaking apart... I felt pain for her.

The young she-cat delicately left her hideout behind a huge, thick trunk and stepped in the clearing, her paw steps echoing lightly in the wind around them. She stared at Slatestripe's back, waiting to scold her for leaving camp without allowance. For breaking his ceremony.

[ @Cherry~ @~Eclipse_Lake~ ]

[sock]

Originally Posted by Cherry~

Slatestripe carefully scraped away the snow around the roots of a towering oak tree. He ignored the stinging in his pawpads as the cold crystals scraped against his paws. A gray stone with two dark spots sat to his left, nestled gently in the snow. Beside it, a dead mouse sat.

The ground beneath the snow was frozen, but that didn’t matter. There was no body to bury. The warrior’s eyes were dark and focused. This was a monument, not a grave. It was a tribute to the greatest cat he’d ever known.

Slatestripe had spent the past quarter moon scouring the woods, trying desperately to find his mother. He’d searched every mouse-length of these woods, every last bit of the beach, and the depths of the pond and rivers. Nothing. No trace of her scent. No body. No signs of a scuffle.

Finally, in the dead of night two days ago, he’d accepted that she was gone. The childhood story he’d been told of old cats going off into the woods to die alone had finally come true for him. He just wished he could’ve found the body.

Slatestripe had told Rainglow of his plans to hold a funeral for Amberbright, but his brother wasn’t here yet. Slatestripe had no doubt he’d come. He had to.

The wind whistled through the woods, breaking the heavy silence. High above, branches swung and creaked. Sitting down before the space he’d cleared, Slatestripe took a deep breath.

“Mom,” he began. His voice cracked a little. “I remember when I was a kit, and I had a bad dream about you dying. I distanced myself from you a lot after that, and you couldn’t figure out why. Finally, after almost a quarter moon, I told you. Do you remember what you said? You said, ‘I plan on being here for a long time, Slatekit. But one day, I will die. When the cats we love are alive, we should make as many memories as we can with them. We shouldn’t close ourselves off to those we love, out of a misguided belief that it will stop us from experiencing the pain of loss. That pain will come, no matter what you do. And when it does, the only way that cat remains alive with you is in your memory. Take every opportunity to build those memories with those you love. Don’t put those chances off, because one day you won’t be able to any longer.’”

His voice was full of emotion. “After that, I set out to make as many memories as I could with you. We played, told each other stories trying to outdo each others’ creativity, and talked about our friends and family. I sought you out for advice, I shared every accomplishment, and every failure. When the days get long, when the world gets cold and harsh, I will turn to those memories and pull them close to me. I’ll look to them as a reminder that there’s love and warmth out there, and that now it’s my responsibility to share that with someone.“

Turning, he gently picked up the stone in his jaws and set it in the center of the area he’d cleared out. To him, the light stone represented his mother. The two dark spots represented her sons, who were always part of her. Grabbing a stick, he laid it across the stone, to signal to any cat who saw it that this stone was placed here deliberately.

Then, he turned his attention to the mouse. “Amberbright.” It felt weird to say his mother’s name. But, this was how the ceremony he’d come up with was supposed to go. “Elder of RiverClan. On behalf of the cats of this Clan, I thank you for your service. Your warmth, dedication, and generosity will be remembered.” With a quick, efficient slice, Slatestripe bled the mouse. He covered a paw in its blood and pressed that paw against a smooth part of the oak. Then, he used a toe to put a slash through the pawprint. Finally, that same toe was used to make a circle that started and ended on the same end of the slash. The symbol of a cat who died of old age.

Wiping his paw clean on the snow, Slatestripe then bowed his head. He remained silent and still for a moment, before raising his head again. He knew the blood would fade with time and would have to be refreshed. Eventually, he hoped to find a more permanent solution. But, for now this would work.

A soft breeze rippled through his fur. “I love you, mom.”

( @~Eclipse_Lake~ )

Rainglow stumbled into the Sleepy Thicket, fur sticking out where he had slept on it. He had almost forgotten about the funeral Slatestripe told him about! The fluffy grey tom stopped, seeing his brother next to a tree... with some sort of symbol on it. He recognized it immediately, and looked down. He must be late. Rainglow padded forward, standing beside his brother. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and closed his mouth to look at the tree. The tom sat down, curling his tail around his paws. Their mother was missing- and maybe dead- and he had been asleep. He felt terrible. The tom gazed at the ground now, paws feeling the uncomfortable prick of snow. Rainglow sighed. "I'm sorry..." He finally muttered. "To both of you... m-mom and you, S-slatestripe..."

[occultation]

Slatestripe continued to sit in silence, his small form hunched against the cold. In better circumstances, he’d feel jealous at the larger cats in his Clan. Being one of the smallest warriors had its downsides.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, all of his thoughts were with his mother. Suddenly, he heard pawsteps behind him. He expected it to be Rainglow, so his eyes lit up with surprise when he saw it was Mintpaw. Had she followed him? She must’ve, since he knew she was too well-behaved to be out of camp otherwise.

A few moments after she arrived, Rainglow appeared. His brother took a position next to Slatestripe and murmured a shaky apology to both Amberbright and Slatestripe. He rested his tail across Rainglow’s shoulders. “You don’t need to apologize to me, brother,” he said quietly. Turning his head to look at Mintpaw, he said, “You can join us if you want, Mintpaw. I know mom would’ve loved you. I wish I could’ve introduced you to her.”

( @~Eclipse_Lake~ @Wingnettle )

[Wingnettle]

Mintpaw (she/her)
White fur with shades of grey and blue eyes



· · ─────── ·✧· ─────── · ·

Another cat appeared hurriedly, his pelt ruffled from the run he'd obviously just made to arrive in time. She recognized Slatestripe's brother, Rainglow. She wondered if this funeral meant something to him, not as much as it did to her mentor, but did it?

Mintpaw padded slowly to join them, and sat down with her tail curled up around her paws. She didn't want to break this important moment, but she wondered silently how their mother had died. And when.

"...Did she look like an amber? Yellow, orange and red?" She asked softly, trying to picture the pretty, small-sized she cat that had kitted two gray toms.

[ @Cherry~ @~Eclipse_Lake~ ]

[sock]

Rainglow closed his eyes, not wanting to show the sadness and guilt he was experiencing. Honestly, he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, so this feeling of extreme guilt was new. He was guilty for being late to his own mother's funeral, guilty for not seeing her nearly as much as Slatestripe had, guilty for not being with his brother during this. The tom took a shaky breath, hearing his brother speak. The grey tom glanced over his shoulder, and saw Mintpaw. He liked her, she was very nice. And... and he was glad that Slatestripe at least had her. Rainglow looked back at the tree, staring at the mark Slatestripe had made with the blood of a mouse. He jumped at the sudden voice of Mintpaw. He looked down again, not wanting to answer. Hopefully Slatestripe would. It wasn't uncommon for the tom to rely on his brother for most things.

[ @Wingnettle @Cherry~ ]

[occultation]

Slatestripe purred as Mintpaw asked of his mother’s appearance. “She was mainly gray and black, with flecks of brown dusting her fur. She had this really short tail that only curled halfway around her paws. She was small, like me.” When he used to get bullied for his size, Amberbright always seemed to know how to calm him and reassure him. After all, she knew what it was like.

Rainglow remained silent, but that was okay. Slatestripe knew that his brother had trouble with his emotions, so he certainly wouldn’t push him or encourage him to deal with this situation in any particular way. He knew Rainglow cared for and loved their mother, even though he hadn’t visited her often. Slatestripe hoped Rainglow wouldn’t beat himself up too much over it.

( @~Eclipse_Lake~ @Wingnettle )

[Wingnettle]

Mintpaw (she/her)
White fur with shades of grey and blue eyes



· · ─────── ·✧· ─────── · ·

There was tension emanating from Rainglow, whereas Slatestripe seemed as calm as the river frozen in leaf-bare... It's almost surreal. I can almost imagine Amberbright's shape in front of us. What would she say? She turned to the dark warrior in search of his gaze.

Suddenly she wondered if Lilyleaf had ever considered holding a funeral for Doveskip. But that would feel... wrong, at least from her own perception. She'd never felt loved from her, and she couldn't even remember her appearance. On the contrary, Slatestripe and Rainglow's mother seemed to have been a warm constant in their life...

A tiny, white snowflake gently fell on the tip of Mintpaw's nose. She blowed it away softly, and turned her eyes up to see the gray sky speckled of white, whirling spots.

[ @~Eclipse_Lake~ @Wingnettle ]

[sock]

Rainglow, at this point, was taking deep breaths to calm himself down. It was ABSOLUTELY NOT working. He curled his tail tightly over his paws, ears pinned against his head. I mean, at least i'm at the funeral! At least i'm here! At least i care! At least... at least... Rainglow's breathing was getting quicker. He was only just now taking in the thought that his mother could be dead. And this was a funeral. A funeral for her. The grey tom fluffed his fur out a bit, eyes widening momentarily. Guilt seemed to hit him in waves, and so did anxiety. He was on the verge of just running away, as he did with most problems. Social problems? Run away! Bug in your nest? Run away! The other problems were usually solved by Slatestripe. But this problem- death- it couldn't be solved by anything, or anyone. Rainglow began to flick the tip of his tail back and forth.

[ @Cherry~ @Wingnettle ]

[occultation]

As Slatestripe felt Mintpaw’s gaze on him, it dawned on him for not the first time that she was the closest thing to a child that he’d ever had. Over the past several moons of knowing her, he’d unexpectedly developed a fierce, fatherly sort of… love for her. It was a strange feeling, given that he’d never experienced it before. It was different than the love he had for his mother, or for Rainglow. It hit him like a branch being struck by lightning that he’d never actually expressed these feelings to Mintpaw, even though he’d realized them a while ago now.

He opened his jaws to speak, but caught sight of Rainglow’s huddled form before he could. Slatestripe was never the best at comforting his brother. He scarcely knew the right things to say. So, instead, he crouched down and pressed himself against his brother. It wasn’t something he’d ever tried before, but he hoped it helped.

( @~Eclipse_Lake~ @Wingnettle )