the boy of my dreams… or his? [p]

**iliri** · #1 August 28th, 2024, 04:57 PM

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a pale, silver glow through the small window of the old twoleg monster where Springlight lay. Even if she had been here for a few, unbearably long days, the scent of the monster is unlike anything the herbalist has encountered before im her moons as a clan cat. It hangs heavy in the air, a thick, oily stench that clings to her fur and fills her lungs with every breath, like smoke lingering long after a scorching fire has burned out. The metallic tang is sharp and biting, carrying the faint, acrid undertones of rust and decay that speak of long neglect. Every part of the monster seems to be steeped in this overwhelming scent, from the cold, hard seats that are torn and frayed, to the scattered remnants of crumbling paper and odd twoleg trinkets left abandoned. The air inside is stale, as if it has been trapped for moons, uncirculated and untouched, with a sourness that makes her nose twitch. Dust motes drift through the weak beams of moonlight filtering in through shattered windows, each breath stirring up more of the settled particles, adding to the musty scent that speaks of things forgotten and left behind. Mixed with the monster’s metallic, chemical odor is the faint scent of mold, a dampness that clings to its surfaces like a second skin. The soft pads of Springlight’s paws always brushed against patches of sticky residue and grimy puddles that have formed in its crevices, adding an unpleasant, sickly-sweet layer to the already complex aroma. The mold grows in patches of green and black along the edges of the floor and the corners of the seats, leaving a sour, earthy scent that is inescapable.

The monster itself quietly groans with age, the creaks of its rusting frame adding to the feeling of unease that filtered through her system. There is an underlying scent of something burnt, the faintest whiff of singed material lingering in the corners, as if something had once caught fire and been smothered too late. Beneath it all, Springlight can catch hints of an older, deeper smell that she cannot quite identify—a smell that speaks of long-past secrets and hidden dangers, almost animalistic in its intensity. To her, the monster almost feels like a place of lost things—a tomb of sorts, where the smells of abandonment and neglect mingle with the fresh, living scents of her sister and her mate, creating a dissonant blend that constantly reminds her that this is only a temporary shelter, not a home. It's a constant, silent struggle to breathe through it, to ignore the way it catches at the back of her throat, leaving her yearning for the clean, familiar smells of the forest back in ThunderClan, the comforting scent of plants and earth, of life moving forward, not decaying into the past. Springlight continued to lay there, her moss bed not providing much comfort against the stillness of the world that felt almost oppressive, a silence so deep and all-encompassing that it seemed to seep into her very bones. It was the kind of quiet that only came in the deepest hours of the night when even the wind had ceased its whispering and the creatures of the forest had succumbed to sleep. Yet, for her, sleep was an elusive comfort, slipping through her grasp each time she came close. The soft bedding of moss beneath her did little to ease the restlessness that churned within her, only poking at her with sharp jabs as she stared at the dust particles dancing in her vision.

A low huff expelled past her lips, a sharp jab hitting her in the chest from the deep settled ache from all her injuries. Each movement sent a dull, persistent throb through her scarred form, the wounds from the owl’s attack still fresh and tender. She wasn't certain of how long it would be until she was completely sealed away from her injuries. It could take days. Weeks. Moons, even. Her half-cloudy gaze traced the faint patterns of moonlight that spilled across the rusted floor, the shadows dancing in a slow, rhythmic pulse that seemed to mirror the flickering flame of her thoughts. There was a time when she had been so sure of herself, so confident in her role as a medicine cat. But now, as she lay in the suffocating darkness, she felt lost—adrift in a sea of doubt and uncertainty, where each wave threatened to pull her under. Maybe she had been overly too confident in herself; too much pride for her work. She loved and cared efficiently about her clan and clanmates. Guilt was the only thing that ate away at her, keeping her awake and watching her like the predators of the night. She didn’t know how to comprehend the truth that she failed her clan. The truth is that she couldn’t do anything to help them; she was stuck here and she didn’t have a way to get back home. Laid softly within one of her paws, a marigold showed itself brightly against the dimmed moonlight that flooded through the windows. Its vibrant golden petals stand out starkly against the muted colors of the monster. She didn’t know why she collected the herb earlier that day, or even bothered to keep it. It brought her a sense of solace, she supposed, a sense of meaning against the hoarding guilt within her grasp. She tenderly rubbed one of the many petals along the useful plant, its scent faint to the overwhelming musk of the monster she relied upon for shelter. Its softness felt like a tangible connection to the past, even as her mind drifted far away to other deepening thoughts.

As the hours ticked by and the shadows deepened, her thoughts began to circle around a single name that she never felt she’d think about during her departure. Orangeblossom. She hadn’t expected to miss him as much as she did. The sharp, gnawing ache in her chest caught her off guard each time his image flitted through her mind. The pain of her physical injuries was nothing compared to this deep, persistent longing that had taken root in her heart. Orangeblossom had been a beacon of light in the dark times, a source of comfort and strength when she had needed it most. The distance between them now felt like a gaping chasm, the miles stretching endlessly in her mind as she wondered how he was faring without her. Could he be worried? Could he be scared? Did he think that she was still alive? The memory of him was still so vivid—the way his curly, bright orange fur shimmered in the sunlight, the warmth that radiated from his green gaze, and the quiet, steadfast strength that he carried within him even if he was struggling. Orangeblossom had become so much more to her than just a fellow clan-mate. He was her confidant, her solace, the one cat she could rely on without fear of judgment or rejection. Now, with so many miles and so much uncertainty between them, that comfort felt like a distant dream, something just beyond her reach. The marigold slipped from her grasp, falling softly onto the bedding as her thoughts spiraled deeper into her longing for him. Springlight’s heart ached with the weight of her unspoken, uncertain feelings, the bond between her and Orangeblossom tugging at her soul with a quiet, persistent strength. She missed him—missed his voice, his presence, the way he could make her feel safe with just a single glance. Each passing day only intensified her desire to be near him, to see him again, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had been left unsaid between them. As her eyes fluttered shut, her thoughts clung to the image of him, her heart heavy with the ache of longing. In the silence of the night, Springlight made a silent promise to herself: no matter what it took, she would find her way back to him,and her clan.

Sleep finally began to claim her, her body slowly relaxing into the softness of the bedding, and her breathing steadied. But when in the close embrace of sleep, her thoughts remained with Orangeblossom, her thoughts filled with the memory of his warmth beside her. The marigold lay forgotten at her side, its vibrant color fading into the shadows of the night. And as she slipped deeper into slumber, one final thought lingered in her mind—a quiet, determined wish to be reunited with him, to feel his warmth and strength beside her once more. In that moment, she knew that no matter how far she had to go, no matter the obstacles in her path, she would find her way back to him. Her heart would guide her steps through the darkness, until she was once again by his side.

—

The world around her shifted slowly, as if she had slipped into another realm without warning. Springlight blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden change from the dim, suffocating confines of the Twoleg monster to this unfamiliar clearing. The stench of oil and dampness that clung to her pelt vanished, replaced by the crisp scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers. She found herself standing amidst a small, secluded clearing, a gentle breeze whispering through the tall grass that swayed like ripples across a still pond. Brambles encircled the space, their thorny branches interwoven into a dense, protective wall, leaving only a narrow gap beneath a fern as the sole exit. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the vibrant reds and yellows of the summer blossoms, each petal shimmering in the light. For the first time in days, there was no pain; no sharp, stabbing aches, no dull, throbbing bruises. Her limbs moved easily, fluidly, without the stiffness that had become so familiar. She took a breath, deep and full, and felt her lungs expand without the usual struggle, her chest light and unburdened. She almost didn’t recognize the sensation of being whole. Was this a dream? It felt too vivid, too real, like she could reach out and touch each blade of grass, feel the softness of the petals between her paws. The feeling was something that she had missed dearly, something that she had wished she cherished more before her disappearance from ThunderClan. For a moment, Springlight stood still, breathing deeply, marveling at how clear the air felt. Her chest expanded easily, with no pain, no tightness. Her body felt light, almost weightless, as if all the aches and scars that marred her flesh had vanished. She knew that wasn't true; as she could easily see the scars tangling her body were all still there clear as day.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned, spotting a familiar figure standing across the clearing. Orangeblossom. He was there, standing with his back to her, gazing down at a patch of flowers—poppies and marigolds, their petals bright against the green of the grass. The sight of him made her heart skip a beat. He looked exactly as she remembered—soft, orange curly fur catching the sunlight and his green eyes warm and thoughtful. She felt a pang of longing so strong it almost made her collapse all four paws. “Orangeblossom?” she called softly, his name tumbling from her lips like a prayer. She didn't see him move, his gaze still focused on the flowers in the small clearing. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. What was he thinking about? Did he even know she was there? Did he miss her the way she missed him? She took a tentative step forward, her paws sinking slightly into the soft earth, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Would he be happy to see her? Or would he turn away, repulsed by what she’d become? Her gaze drifted downward, catching sight of something at his feet—a feather. An owl feather, slightly bent at the edges, but still mostly intact. A shiver ran down her spine. It looked so familiar, but why? She took another step closer, her eyes fixed on the feather. It tugged at her memory, pulling her back to a time when she was younger, before she earned her name. Hadn’t she been given a feather just like that, so many moons ago? A gift, she thought, from Mudhound, after she had been struggling with her place within the clan trying to keep everyone healed and healthy. Why was it here, now, in this place? She swallowed, pushing back the thought, and focused on Orangeblossom. The warmth of the sun along her fur almost felt overwhelming, but she pushed it aside, stepping forward as her eyes began to water. “Blossy…” she tried again, louder this time. Her voice trembled, her throat tight as warm, salty tears rolled gently down her cheeks.

@Oliver (screams and shakes you)