A Dark Forest warrior and his mother: a story in three parts
Together in Sweet Innocence
"Swee'ree!" Alderkit called into the dark and gloomy den. He had had the nightmare again, of a two-headed beast chasing him through the trees. He had woken up just when their jaws had clamped shut around him.
He squirmed, reaching around in his nest, but found only empty space. His heart began to pound. Were those simply gaps in the walls of the den, or pairs of eyes staring him down, waiting for the perfect time to jump and devour him in one gulp?
Wailing in terror, he shuffled deep into his nest with his paws over his eyes. He felt weight shift beside him and began to cry out, then quickly realized that through the moss he could detect a familiar scent. He poked his head out.
Sweettree, his mother, lay next to him, her glazed eyes looking down endearingly. "That nightmare again?" she asked, resting her chin on her paws. Alderkit lifted himself and wobbled closer, so that he could press against her muzzle.
"Mmm-hmm." He nodded vigorously. "It ate me and I died!"
"You're not dead!" Hollykit cut in from the opposite side of the den. Bags hung under her eyes, it was clear that he had woken her. Shimmerstone began to hush her when, a rare sight, Sweettree curled her lip.
"I asked you to watch him."
Shimmerstone looked apologetic. "If your sickness is contagious...."
"That doesn't give you the right to neglect a crying kit to keep your own from catching a sniffle!" Sweettree snapped, then quickly flipped herself around so that her back was to Shimmerstone.
Shimmerstone sighed. "We all know by now it's not just a sniffle, Sweet."
What did that mean? A heavy stone dropped in Alderkit's belly. "Do you have greencough?" he asked his mother, voice trembling like a pond welcoming droplets. His ears flattened, as though it could block out any bad answer she could give and make it so that it couldn't be true.
Sweettree hesitated, and something flickered in her eyes. Alderkit hadn't noticed before how glossy they were, or how many lines she had under them. Her fur stuck out in random placesâsurely that was only because she had just been hunting?
She stretched her paws out and pulled him into an embrace, holding him against her throat and laying her chin over his body. He settled into it, breathing in her milky scent and sneezing when her fur brushed against his nose. His head began to slink downward, his eyes narrowing in exhaustion. The worry of having the nightmare again was distant. He didn't care what happened to him in sleep so long as his mother was here, holding him close.
(Skipping previous stories that showed him receive his other lives)
Aldereyes could not hear the displeased murmurings that had been ringing quietly along the edge of every life he had so far been given. Now, there was no talking, no whistle of wind brushing his ears, not even blood pounding within his skull.
It was as if all was stillâincluding his very heart, not falling to the pit of his stomach nor leaping into his throat, not melting with warmth or freezing with ice. It was as if he couldnât feel anything at all, as if his brain didnât have the capability of allowing him to look at who he was looking at and process how that would make him feel at the same time. It would be too much. It was too much.
So he was left looking at Sweettree, saying nothing, only gaping and staring like a fish flung onto the sandy shores of Riverclan.
Sweetreeâs expression, however, was painfully clear. Her eyes shimmered with a sadness so powerful and deep that Aldereyes was sure that every cat in all five Clans could drown in them, and there would still be room left for the loners. Beneath them were bags so heavy her face drooped, coated in a fervid red like a fever. Her fur was a mess, flat against her fame in some places and sticking out randomly in others. Stars..she looked worse now than when she had died.
And Aldereyes is responsible for it.
The numbness thawed instantaneously, and as though there was the chill of a rainstorm over his head, Aldereyes felt droplets of coldness bury themselves beneath his aching skin, crawling beneath it like worms and inching toward his eyes, where they stung until they fell, soaking his cheeks. His stomach, on the other hand, was uncomfortably hot, and his gut felt as if it were being pulled and twisted. âSweet-Sweettree!â He gasped, struggling to stand.
His mother stood there, whiskers away yet fields apart from him, saying nothing. Was she rejecting him? His own mother?
An eternity passed, Aldereyes barely holding the strength to keep the wail of anguish from his throat any longer, when Sweettree stepped forward. She seemed hesitant, and Aldereyes couldnât help but guess-almost feel as if he knew with certaintyâthat she didnât want to so much as look at him, because he couldnât be her son. Her precious kit. She didnât want who he was anymore, no longer the kitten suckling at her belly or begging for a story, telling her while standing proudly on his small, stubby legs that he loved her and she was his best friend.
She didnât want this monster.
Right now, he felt like the kit that she so desperately wanted, his own desperation and sorrow crashing through his entire body in endless waves, making his whole body shake and words quiver so much that they were almost incomprehensible. He remembered his mother and how much he missed her, but he had always pushed those memories to the back of his mind to avoid feeling them. Now, they were all around him. He could smell her milk, he could feel her warmth and the way she purred beside him, the way she pulled him close and licked his fur, even if he was already clean, because she just wanted to hold him while she still could. For a few heartbeats, he was that kit again. âM-Momma?âÂ
Sweettreeâs eyes widened. She rushed forward so quickly, Aldereyes had no time to react. He stiffened in surprise when she buried her head into the side of his neck, then melted into the feeling, drinking in her scent as he rested his chin on her shoulder. âMy precious son! I miss you so much! If only I had been thereâI could have guided youââ
âNo,â Aldereyes cut her off, forcing himself to focus on the reality of where he was, instead of the fantasy of the nursery from moons and moons ago. âYou couldnât have.â He frowned, chip trembling. âThereâs a darkness in me, mom.â
Sweettree didnât respond. She couldnât deny it. She couldnât agree. After several long heartbeats, she pulled away and faced him. âI love you, all the same. That will never stop, even if I hate what you have done.â
Aldereyes looked at his paws. How could he face his mother now?
âLook at me,â she told him, more firmly. He did so trepidatiously.
A fury began to burn in his motherâs irises. âI hate that youâre a killer. I hate that youâre a betrayer. I hate that you hurt cats that are kind to you, that trust you. I hate that you murder cats that donât even know you. I hate the thoughts that you allow yourself to think. I hate that you let them control you. I hate what you let them do to my innocent little kit. But I canât hate you. I donât think I could, even if I wanted to. Youâre still my kit, my precious golden star.â
A whimper escaped Aldereyes. He had forgotten his motherâs nickname for him.
His chest heaved when she pressed her nose gently against his head. He sniffed, hardly holding onto control and resisting the overwhelming need to let the sobs wracked his body. He dug his claws deep into the ground to steady himself.Â
âWith this life, I give you love. Please, please donât let it lead you astray anymore.â
What did she mean by that?
Water slipped down Aldereyesâs throat, filling his lungs with a hot liquid that bubbled and buzzed within him. His paws tingled with a pleasant sensation that almost had him bouncing around the clearing. Then his spine stiffened, ice gripping the cartilage, spreading to his ribs and into the liquid like Riverclan in leaf-bare. No! No! He didnât want the feeling to leave, but even so, he could feel the crackling tendrils spread deeper, and the warmth was completely gone.
Sweetree blinked at him solemnly. Then she raised her head. âAlderstar! Alderstar! Alderstar!â
Hers was the only voice throughout the clearing. If Aldereyes shut his eyes, he could have imagined her as a lone cat in a ravine, her words echoing off of the stones.
Everyone else sat in complete silence.
Sweettreeâs voice was the only one he needed to hear.
The sound of grass rustling made Alderstar's ears swivel, but he didn't move his gaze. "I want to be alone," he told whoever was there.
"What are you doing?" came a youngâand slightly familiarâvoice. Alderstar turned his head and saw Perchpaw staring at him curiously. Alderstar was glad to see that he wasn't as wary as before, though by his stance, that wasn't completely gone. It had been about half a moon since he had first met the 'paw, but they haven't spoken much. That mostly went to Hootpetal, who was much better with the whole 'talking' business.
His mate must've put in a good word for him, because Perchpaw padded forward until he was standing next to where Alderstar was seated, only a small, almost unnoticeable trace of trepidation in his pricked fur. The apprentice looked around them. "Waiting for who?"
"Does that matter?" Alderstar bristled, then quickly forced his fur to lie flat.
Perchpaw tilted his head at the sight ahead of them. "Isn't that the border?" He blinked at a white, blinding light dancing like smoke in a far clearing, far enough from them so that it didn't hurt their eyes too much.
Perchpaw sat. "Are you meeting with a Starclan cat?"
Alderstar noticed he still kept his distance. He debated on how honest he should be with the young tom. On one side, he didn't like others knowing his vulnerabilities, his softness. On the other, it would be a good way to get Perchpaw to open up to him. For Hootpetal's sake. "No. She won't come."
"She?" Alderstar felt eyes on him. He suddenly felt small, even though the cat he was talking to reached his shoulder.
The only cats he ever admitted this to were his mates and Grousemane. Not even Magpiepaw or Stonepaw knew. He didn't want the pity of someone else. But this wasn't about pity, so he forced through his teeth, "my mother."
There was a silent pause. Perchpaw shuffled his paws. "Does she not like you?" he asked at last.
Alderstar couldn't hold back a hiss. "She loved me very much!"
Then, seeing Perchpaw's wide eyes, he let out a long breath, all the air he could exhale leaving his body until he just wanted to sit back and wait for it to build again. "At least for the small time she knew me. I don't know how she feels now, but I don't think she would be very proud." He felt a twinge when he recalled his nine lives ceremony, and the pain in Sweettree's eyes when she looked at him.
More painfully, he remembered his deathâor deaths, rather. He had heard a voice then, soothing, and a body around his. He wasn't sure if it had really been Sweettree comforting him in his final moments, or if it had just been his imagination after so much blood loss.
He didn't regret what he did. He didn't think he ever will. But that doesn't mean he can't feel sorry that his mother had to watch him do all that he did.
"Why did she only know you for a short time?" Perchpaw's ears lowered. "Did she not want to feed you?"
"She was a wonderful mother," Alderstar answered quickly, again forcing the anger from his voice. Why do young cats always ask so many questions? "But she died while I was still young."
"Who took care of you after that?"
Alderstar was surprised at that question. "No one."
"So you were alone?" Perchpaw's questions were falling quiet.
"For some time," Alderstar told him.
Silence fell over them again. Alderstar returned his attention to the bright mist ahead, eyes narrowed against its brightness. Then he stiffened when he felt a body press against his side. Not wanting to move in fear of frightening the apprentice away, he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Perchpaw still sitting next to him, only much, much closer. His gaze was, like Alderstar's had been, ahead and on the border.
Alderstar relaxed. Slowly, he laid his tail so that it lay half-wrapped around Perchpaw, not constricting, and only noticeable if he paid attention to it. "Sure."
Some of the stories are old so excuse writing mistakes lol
