Post by Slug ! on Jul 20, 2011 17:58:20 GMT -10
Story Title: A Fork in the Road
Author: Slug
Rating: PG-13
Warning: dark themes
Genre: General/Drama
Main Character: Starclan, Willowpaw
Other Characters: Snow-whisker, Dovepaw, Owlstar
A/N: Second part of the Road Saga.
Summary: We've all wanted to change the past, and some of us can. But will we?
First part of the Road Saga: Road of Thorns
A Fork in the Road
They watch them, the white warrior and the tiny kit. They are surprised that the little tom survived—that this one, frail runt had broken off from the path of Fate. That it had lasted through a snowstorm and hail and came out with only a few sniffles.
Willowkit was not meant to be alive, and yet here he was, smacking a ball of moss around.
“A sign,” one of the stars whisper, whiskers quivering. “But I do not if it is good or bad, my friends.”
They twinkle at each other for a moment, silently observing the two FogClanners.
“Snow-whisker will die before the kit comes of age,” another finally murmurs, silver eyes gazing into the far away moon.
It glows brighter and the breeze runs its fingers through their starry pelts, smoothing their fur down.
Here, it is always night; their Mother moon keeps them safe from the shadows of the Dark Forest.
They will always be safe.
“He will go through many hardships,” the murmurs, smooth and masculine, continue. “But he will grow—he will learn, become something more. Stronger.”
“At the cost of a love one, Panther?” Tigress, with her eyes like dying suns, stare at him from across the night sky. “Would you really be so willing to make that decision?”
“You are too soft,” he reminded her gently, like a mother to her kit. “Have you forgotten of the she-cat?”
A mane of milky ways and twilight lifts as Lion raises his head, lip curling. “Dovepaw will die by the fangs of dogs if Snow-whisker does not pass by the next moon, Tigress.”
His harsh features soften. “One of them must die if the other is to live.”
“Why?” Leopard snapped, pelt rippling with the darkness of black holes and light of cold auroras. Her hackles are up, rising like the fingers of the morning. “Why can they not both live?”
“A balance,” Panther answered quietly. “The kit has already upset it by being here today.
“Snow-whisker dies, Willowpaw will shy from his clan; he will fear. But he will gain courage. Dovepaw will live,” he turned his gaze skyward, blinking in acknowledgement to Mother.
The moon tells him nothing, just like She always has.
“If Snow-whisker lives, Willowpaw will have never met Dovepaw. He would have never left with Owlstar. He would have stayed and fought the dogs. Dovepaw would be dead,” Panther closed his eyes, as if pained.
“...A balance,” Tigress repeated, barely a whisper. “That must always be.”
There is only the breeze, always smoothing down their fur and soothing the midnight-workings of their souls. Mother knows these decisions are hard; that they are still young, even though they have known these forests longer than any other but Her. She trusts in Her children to make the right one, even as doubt and worry cloud their minds.
Because though they are the Old Ones, they must learn as well.