#elementwriting

Antlersky strained her ears, channeling the wind through the warriors' den.  For the first time in a quarter moon, there was no coughing coming from the Healer’s den.  

She searched deeper, not caring when the gusts of wind woke up her denmates.  She searched for the inhale and exhale that had forever echoed in her ears, as familiar to her as her own.

It.

Wasn’t.

There.

She screamed into the void, desperate to fill it with sound.  Devastated when her scream was the only sound she heard.  Cats moved around her but she ignored them.

She ran to the clearing, the clearing where so many breathless bodies had lain.  Stormrush’s and Egretshell’s and now-

-her sister’s.

Caterpillarmallow looked up from where she had placed the limp, gray body.  Her eyes were tired as they met Antlersky’s desperate ones.  She shook her head.

Antlersky collapsed to the ground.

She stuffed her nose into the still, gray fur, listening and feeling and smelling for any signs of movement.

There were none.

Her sister was dead.

Rosemaryquake had reached her end.

And Antlersky was left to live in its wake.

~~~

A new day broke.

Rosemaryquake’s body was buried.

But Antlersky was still where her sister had left her.

Caterpillarmallow returned from seeing to the other sick cats and sat down next to her.  Antlersky listened to her breath.  It was steady.  Almost the exact same length inhale and exhale each time.  Antlersky loved its consistency.

She loved Caterpillarmallow’s consistency.

She loved Caterpillarmallow.

Antlersky’s own breath caught.  

She wouldn’t wait any longer.  She couldn’t.  There was no world where she risked losing that breath without even trying to keep it at her side.

So, still sitting in the clearing where her sister’s body had lain only hours before, she asked.

And Caterpillarmallow said yes.

After the end, they watched the day go by.

~~~

Somehow, life continued.

Antlersky supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.  It always had in the past.

The first moons were hard.  There was a canyon in her heart that could never be filled.

But, slowly, day by day, she got used to it.

She teased her half-brothers and sisters without resenting them for who they were not.

She watched out for Midgepaw when his mentor, Moorleg, was being too rough on him.  She swore to herself that no young cat would be as alone as she had felt, with no adults for support and only her sister by her side.

She leaned on Caterpillarmallow.  Her constant.  Her mate.  Her love.  Whose breath never faltered.  Who guided Graysong and Needlepelt in the Healer’s den.  Who made sure that Flurrypelt and Frostheart were always included.  Who made certain that Antlersky was at least civil towards her parents.

Life went on.  Life was good, although in a different way than before.

Until the end.

It happened in Leaf-bare, just like all the other tragedies in Antlersky’s life.  She was out for a walk, carefully listening and smelling for any prey on the wind.

Listening so carefully for them that she didn’t hear the snowbank give way beneath her.

That she only had time to inhale.

Before.

A brief flash of pain as the spikes pierced her body and everything went dark.

~~~

She opened her eyes.

For the first time in her life, the wind was silent.

Well, technically it was the first time after her life.

Because there were stars in her fur and an unfamiliar mountain in front of her that somehow felt like home.

Antlersky was dead.

She was surprised to find that she wasn’t devastated.  She hadn’t wished to die.  But now that she had she could accept reality without fighting it.

Maybe because. . .because. . .Stormrush would be there.  For the first time in many moons, she could see her mother.

But, more importantly. . .

A cat stepped out onto the mountaintop next to her.  A cat with starlit gray tabby fur and a pair of glowing moth wings behind her ear.

“I’ve missed you, Antlersky,” said Rosemaryquake.

Antlersky ran to her sister.  She leaned up against her and was surprised to find that they were both solid.  “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry I left you.”

“You had no choice,” Antlersky murmured.  It was true.  Brightfalcon had left her eldest daughters alone, even though she had still been alive.  Even though she could have chosen to try.  Antlersky hadn’t been able to forgive that.

With Rosemaryquake, there was nothing to forgive.

“We’re together now,” Antlersky meowed, “that’s all that matters.”

Rosemaryquake nodded and sat down beside her on the mountaintop, looking out at the endless stars.

Antlerpaw sent a gust of wind towards it and found no movement.  No breath.

It was still.

She felt cold, gray fur against her paws, felt the wind whipping around the nursery.  Felt the absence of life.

But wait.

The fur of that cat was brown.  Not gray.  It wasn’t Brightfalcon or Rosemarypaw.  It wasn’t Stormrush.

It was Egretshell.

Anterpaw forced herself to bend down and pick up the mouse.  She almost gagged on the feeling of its death.  She picked up one paw, and then the other, and marched that mouse to the fresh-kill pile.  Pointedly pretending like the body-like Egretshell’s body-wasn’t there.

Rosemarypaw came out of the Healers’ den, holding a sprig of her namesake in her mouth.  Brightfalcon must have had her preparing the body.  Antlerpaw shuddered at the thought of touching it.

Her sister looked over at her, concern in her eyes, but Antlerpaw shook her head.  She was fine.

Yuccawillow asked her the same thing the next day.

Antlerpaw just looked away from her and didn’t say a word for the rest of the patrol.

~~~

Antlerpaw shivered against the chill.

She hated Leaf-fall.

Everything was dying.  The forest was quiet.  She couldn’t feel the vibrations the birds’ wings made in the air, couldn’t hear the too-fast breath of the mice.

It was all.  Too. Quiet.

“Mouse dung!”

Well, except for Rosemarypaw.  She was as loud as ever.

Antlerpaw trotted over to the healer’s den to see what was wrong.  She found Rosemarypaw hunched over a mess of green and brown leaves.

“Hey,” she meowed.

Rosemarypaw jumped.  “Antlerpaw!  I swear it’s like cursing summons you.”

Antlerpaw shrugged.  It kind of did.  She was always listening for Rosemarypaw on the breeze.  But there was no point in telling her sister that; it would only make her feel bad about the low strength of her earth-blessing.

Instead, she nodded towards the herb pile.  “What happened?”

Rosemarypaw sighed and continued fidgeting with the herbs.  “Mom told me to organize the stores and take stock of what we have in preparation for leaf-bare.  She said everything should be fine, that she just wanted me to check.  But it’s not!  Look at this!”

Antlerpaw did.  She didn’t understand what she was looking at, but she still looked at it.

Rosemarypaw stepped on one of the still-green leaves, accidentally tearing it under her claws.  “Fox dung!”  Her mew rose in pitch.  “We needed that.”

“What is it?”

“That was lungwort.  The dead stuff is all of our catmint.”

“Oh.”  Antlerpaw blinked.  “That’s not good.”

“Nope.  And it’s all mixed up with the lungwort so now, instead of trying to find more, I have to waste time sorting out the dirt from the useful stuff and Mom and I don’t have enough power to grow more of it and cats are going to get sick and then they’re going to-”

Die.

It had been a whole cycle of seasons since she and Rosemarypaw had born.  A whole cycle since Stormrush’s body had gone as cold as the surrounding air.

“I won’t let it happen again,” Rosemarypaw said, staring at the mess of herbs in front of her.  “I can’t.”

Antlerpaw stepped forward and pressed against her sister.  With a gust of wind, she separated the dead catmint and the still living lungwort.

“There,” she said.  “That’s one problem solved.”

“Thank you.” Rosemarypaw sighed and all but collapsed into Antlerpaw.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Me neither.

Antlerpaw stayed pressed up against her sister, and felt her breathe.