Post by Deleted on Nov 24, 2020 12:21:07 GMT
It happened again.
And there isn't really anything else to say, other than that.
The first hints of dawn are showing in the night sky.
The sun isn't even up. The only evidence of the morning to come is a slightly blue tinge on the horizon of the night sky. Above, thick clouds are carried by a pathetic breeze, blotting the stars and the moon from view.
The sun isn't even up. The only evidence of the morning to come is a slightly blue tinge on the horizon of the night sky. Above, thick clouds are carried by a pathetic breeze, blotting the stars and the moon from view.
Starclan was always turning her back on her. Even now.
Weepingdove thrashed Butterflypaw for all she was worth, last training session. She's very tired, very grumpy, and doesn't want to put herself into a social situation right now. The mere thought of being in another cat's presence feels like rats are gnawing away at her belly and grinding at her skull. It's agonising.
So she comes to the Spotted Hollow instead.
So she comes to the Spotted Hollow instead.
Shellclan and Gladeclan scent mingle. The younger trees weep and keel over at the drought, the unrelenting heat, and the old trees shed coats upon coats of crunchy, itchy bark.
And the Oak Tree, the first tree Butterflypaw ever climbed, is untouched.
Cruel.
Butterflypaw takes a seat.
It feels like lifetimes ago, when she first came. She can so vividly remember the way Tinderstar practically wrapped the tree's trunk in her own, giant body, the way Tinderstar cleared it, and how she was sadistic enough to encourage Butterflypaw as she climbed it herself.
What kind of monster do you have to be, to do that? Treat a child so kindly, help them, inspire them - and just as they begin to mature, just as they're about to master everything you've taught them and finally make you proud - leave.
What kind of monster do you have to be, to do that? Treat a child so kindly, help them, inspire them - and just as they begin to mature, just as they're about to master everything you've taught them and finally make you proud - leave.
Just, leave.
Leave that poor little thing to dig graves for everything they've ever done for you, bury it deep under the ground, then move on, like nothing ever happened. To kill a relationship that could have been so good before ever giving it a chance.
And not leaving anything at all behind. Not even a goodbye.
Stars, it's so cruel.
"...What did I do wrong?"
Butterflypaw's voice was a hoarse, shrill whisper. She hated how her eyes stung, how her face grew hot; and how time and time again, she asked this question into the void. She asked herself her sentence, her criticism, into the jury of the void, and hated the thought of both the echo, or a possible answer.
Tinderstar was not supposed to do this.
None of this was right.
She was not supposed to be filing through her memories of Tinderstar as a cat abandoned. She was not supposed to be missing her. Tinderstar wasn't supposed to leave unless Butterflypaw had done something terribly, terribly wrong; and she really tried this time.
She really tried to get it right.
"I'm doing my best, Tinderstar. Aren't you proud of me?"
Crying won't help, Butterflypaw. What use is crying? You're not going to get her attention either way. She's gone.
"Please," Butterflypaw begged, as her vision blurred into colours, and fat, salty tears rolled down her nose.
"...J-just.. tell me... that you're proud of me. Please!"
"...Please?"
The oak tree stood grand and tall. The birds all slept, not a thing twitched, and even that terribly noisy crunchy old bark from the shedding trees was silent.
Butterflypaw had grown tall.
But she felt so, so, small, under the tree's shadow.
She was so small, and so alone.
Well, time to go.
It's another day when the sun's up, and prey is only getting more and more futile. She'd need to hunt, she'd need to patch dens, keep the borders marked, until Bumblesong devised a solution for her. Work would always be her friend.
Maybe she'd convince Lynxpaw, Pearpaw or Leopardpaw to spend the day with her.
Maybe she'd convince Lynxpaw, Pearpaw or Leopardpaw to spend the day with her.
Now that Tinderstar was out of the picture, she had more time to commit to her siblings, or hey, maybe even friends like Chicorykit or Specklekit!
They'd be closer than they ever had before. Butterflypaw looked forward to that.
Butterflypaw turned to leave.
She stood on the bark. It practically screamed at her; it crackled and splintered through Butterflypaw's ears like a gunshot.
And like that, the world exploded around her.
The crickets chirped too loud! The wind was too slow! The oak tree was too big! And absolutely nothing, nothing at all on this starclan-forsaken earth was RIGHT! WHY WOULD SHE WORK FOR A WORLD LIKE THIS?
WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS A LIFE LIKE THIS?!
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
Butterflypaw carved a big, broad cross into the ground by instinct. She dashed to the oak tree, and climbed it quicker than Tinderstar ever could. She was up upon it's tallest branch in a flash, and darted to the X, where Cougarstorm was.
It was such fun, to slash his eyes, hear him scream. One cat down!
"I'LL KILL YOU! AS MANY TIMES AS IT TAKES!"
She dashed the circuit again. Up the tree, to the cross, rip out a throat. Tear off an ear.
Orchidthroat, Chivesprig, Cougarstorm, Tinderstar; all lined up in a row, sitting ducks, waiting, begging, getting their just desserts.
Orchidthroat, Chivesprig, Cougarstorm, Tinderstar; all lined up in a row, sitting ducks, waiting, begging, getting their just desserts.
"THIS ISN'T FAIR! THIS ISN'T FAIR! I TRIED SO HARD!"
Good. GOOD! This felt good! This was perfect!
Oh, nobody could give Butterflypaw a reason to stop. If she ran fast enough, maybe she'd become lightning and split this terrible tree in half, burn every place Tinderstar ever went with her down. Incinerate the memories, destroy the cats, leave nothing behind. This is exactly the way things should be, the way things would be and could be if she was just up a little earlier to watch the four of them leave.
Oh, nobody could give Butterflypaw a reason to stop. If she ran fast enough, maybe she'd become lightning and split this terrible tree in half, burn every place Tinderstar ever went with her down. Incinerate the memories, destroy the cats, leave nothing behind. This is exactly the way things should be, the way things would be and could be if she was just up a little earlier to watch the four of them leave.
She'd make them regret ever looking her way.
Butterflypaw would look the cats she loved so much in the eye, and watch their sorrow turn to fear, turn to respect. The respect she deserved.
Butterflypaw would look the cats she loved so much in the eye, and watch their sorrow turn to fear, turn to respect. The respect she deserved.
She'd watch their love for her die in their eyes, and smile.
...No, she wouldn't.
Who is she kidding?
That would destroy her.
She missed.
Butterflypaw tripped over her own paws mid-air, and was jettisoned to the ground, where that big, broad cross was waiting for her. The ground bludgeoned her side like a battering ram, and she screamed out in pain; both at the impact on her exhausted body, the pain in her throat for screaming so loud, and a giant, gaping ache in her chest that she just couldn't get rid of.
So there she was.
Laying, defeated, on the X mark she'd made, where she'd imagined her targets to be before. Saturated completely in a dull, blistering ache.
Pathetic.
Words began to form in her shaking mouth, and they crumpled apart on her tongue. She was going to say something about love. Having so much love, and not even knowing what to do with it anymore. Not knowing where to put something as heavy as her love for her mentor down.
Instead, she just cried.
Butterflypaw raised her chin to the sky, and hollered a heartbroken, wordless scream for mercy. Tears rolled down her eyes and drowned her face.
Then, she buried her face in her legs, curled into a little ball, and wept like she'd never wept before.
Then, she buried her face in her legs, curled into a little ball, and wept like she'd never wept before.
Eventually, she was too tired to remember what she was even crying about anymore.