Breath

--- to circling

 Breath

I was her son.

Flintpaw was her son.

She let Flintpaw die, and she left me behind.

What kind of mother was Larkfeather?

I remember how I felt after “Flintspark” left me at the border: confused, and upset, but also really mad, like I didn’t understand why she was leaving. I mean… it’s her fault she took over Flintpaw’s body, right? So it should have been her choice to leave or not. Cats would have believed that she was actually Flintpaw. If I hadn’t seen their eyes, I would have believed it, too.

Oh, what am I saying? I can’t forgive her for killing Flintpaw. She could have helped him fight, but she didn’t. So, really, everything’s her fault. It’s her fault that I’m the way I am today.

I remember it all too clearly: running and running, stumbling over everything as I made my way back to camp. The forest had never seemed so foreboding as it did that day; I hadn’t noticed the shadows and the sounds until I was really scared.

I didn’t know what to do, so I ran, desperate to find someone and to tell them what had happened.

I met some cats along the way, but I didn’t stop to talk to them. I made the split second decision that Firestar should be the one to hear my story.

“Hey, Windpaw, where’re you-?”

“Hey, Windpaw. Wanna help us-?”

“Oh, hello! Would you help me gather these-?”

I ran past all of them, feeling the breeze and fear ruffle up my fur, not caring or stopping for anyone. I didn’t care if they thought I was acting strangely. I was acting strangely, and I knew that. Finally, finally, finally I made it back to camp. Not bothering to acknowledge any of the cats eating next to the prey-pile or sunning in the middle of the clearing, I pushed my way straight into Firestar’s den.

“Firestar, I have to tell you somethi-” I stopped short.

Firestar was in her den, but she wasn’t alone. Her deputy, Blazefire, and her apprentice, Goldenpaw, were with her. Blazefire and Goldenpaw looked scared and upset; even the seasoned warrior deputy looked just as terrified as the six-moon-old apprentice. Firestar looked… she looked really sick.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped, realizing that I had intruded into something serious. “I didn’t know-”

Blazefire slowly turned his head to look at me. “It’s okay,” he assured me, but his voice was full of solemn fear. His eyes danced with terror, and his paws trembled. “If you have something important to say….” His voice dropped off. “Then you should say it now, before Firestar goes on to join StarClan,” he finished in a hoarse whisper.

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

I was shocked. Firestar was dying? How come no one knew about this? I mean, we all knew she was suffering from lack of sleep, but... to have a leader on her ninth life, and dying, well, that was….

“It’s not that important,” I blurted. “I’ll… I’ll go now.” I turned around and started to rush back out of the den. But Firestar’s voice called me back.

“Don’t… go,” a voice that I barely registered as Firestar’s rasped from behind me. I turned my head to see her, and saw that she was trying to sit up. She was so weak, though, that she fell back into her nest before even making it partway to her paws. I shuddered to see just how weak our fearless leader really had become.

“Windpaw,” she murmured, and a shiver ran down my back as she said my name. “Windpaw, is this about Flintspark?”

I gasped. How did she know? How did she-?

Blazefire and Goldenpaw both looked surprised, so clearly she had said nothing to them about my mother’s betrayal.

“Windpaw,” Firestar rasped. “Windpaw, I… I know what happened. I was there… watching you.”

“Watching me?” I wrinkled up my nose, confused. “Why me?”

“Because….” Here Firestar coughed, a wheezing cough that shook her whole body. Frightened for her, I stayed silent, not wanting to miss a word of what the dying leader had to say. “Because, Windpaw,” she continued, finally getting back the strength to talk, “Windpaw, you are… the third cat… in a prop…hec….”

Her voice trailed off, and she was no more.

That was the end of one story, and the beginning of one story. I lived on; Blazefire became Blazestar, and the young Goldenpaw started to grow up. I was almost ready to become a warrior. Blazestar called me into Firestar’s den – no, his den – to ask me some questions to determine whether or not I was ready to be a warrior.

“Windpaw,” the huge ginger-and-brown tom began thoughtfully. “You have worked hard for your Clan.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I’ve tried my hardest to learn all the different hunting and fighting techniques that I can.”

“And what about your knowledge of herbs?”

“I spent the necessary quarter-moon learning from Songbird the basics of healing herbs.”

“Very good.” Blazestar stood up and paced back and forth across the small den. “Windpaw,” he said, halting, his eyes much more serious now. “Do you remember when Firestar…?” His voice cracked, but I knew what he meant, and I nodded. “Well… then tell me, what did she mean when she talked to you?”

My eyes widened, and my heart plummeted. This was the moment I had been anticipating, but I had been dreading it, too: it was finally time for someone to know what I had seen there at the border.

“I… my mother,” I began, “was killed by the ice-cat, whose name shall not be spoken, so many moons ago.”

“Yes,” Blazestar murmured.

“But her spirit didn’t die,” I blurted. Blazestar’s eyes opened wide. “Her spirit didn’t die,” I repeated weakly. “She was in Flintpaw’s body, but then I found out, and….” I shook my head. Blazestar was going to think I was an idiot.

To my surprise, Blazestar looked terrified, not doubtful. “She… what?” he asked hoarsely, trembling.

I was shocked. To see our fearless leader, trembling before the words of an apprentice… I held so much power in that moment, it made me wonder what else could happen if I kept talking.

“She was in Flintpaw’s body,” I repeated, more forcefully this time. “She took over his body, and she didn’t protect him good enough; he died, but she lived on. It’s her fault that my brother is dead!”

Blazestar’s paws were trembling so hard, it was amazing he could even stay standing up. “Larkfeather,” he whispered. “Larkfeather, how hard did you try…? Are you watching me now, even as I make the decision to exile our living kit? How hard did you try to protect our dead kit? Do you watch over him, even while you still live?”

“Your kit?” I was astounded. “But my father is Darkwhisker!”

“No.” Blazestar shook his head. “I am.”

 to fire ---