|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Aug 31, 2008 7:31 pm
 Fleetwing sat in the center of the WindClan camp gazing at the stars above in the wide band of Silverpelt. For now, the oppressive paw of heat was blown away by a cool breeze, though the gorse enclosure kept some of the welcome chill out. The sound of the grasses and the thorns swayed and brushed by the wind was music to the warrior's ears as she watched the sky, tracing a design in the dust with one paw.
Wildspot. She shivered at his name, her eyes filling with the image of her strong mate, and her body ached for the feel of his warm body against her side. After almost falling over the side of the waterfall that morning, they had been closer than ever, and there was no doubt in her mind that Wildspot was destined for her by StarClan, and that she was likewise destined for him. But while they were resting later, a disturbing thought had come to Fleetwing...did she want kits? An important question, and one that she had considered many times. Tonight. I'll decide tonight while the time is right, the moon is shining and the stars are watching. I love Wildspot, but how far will our love go? To the next generation and the ones beyond?
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 01, 2008 7:30 am
Fleetwing had always held queens in the highest regard: they took time from the serious business of protecting and feeding the clan to dedicate themselves to the serious business of beginning to raise the next generation of warriors. They were stern but gentle, shrewd and calculating as they determined ways of keeping their kits out of trouble and in the camp. Fleetwing had always respected her mother's efforts to keep Fleetwing and her siblings out of trouble.
But...it wasn't the life Fleetwing had always imagined for herself. She loved running through the moorlands, free as a bird and swift as a falcon. She enjoyed the rough feel of the dirt as her paws pounded after the fleeing prey. If she didn't feel her heart thud in her ribs often enough, she didn't truly feel alive. Could she stay confined in a gorse bush for over six moons as her belly ripened and her kits grew to apprentices? She was sure that she could not. She would go mad before that happened. So kits are probably not an option, she told herself firmly, casting her grey eyes towards the skies once more.
((No, this isn't the end--'tis just the beginning! xD))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 7:00 am
The wind was blowing steadily from the west and Fleetwing closed her eyes in the face of it. Soon this heatwave would be over, and she could go back to racing alongside Wildspot in comfort. She itched to be out already; WindClanners were made to run, weren't they? They were practically the falcons of the ground, their speed a combination of the legendary grace of LeopardClan and the natural fury of the wind over the moorland.
The treacherous wind swung with the ease of an attacking enemy, suddenly wafting the sweet, gentle scent of the nursery towards Fleetwing. All of a sudden, she was back in the soft moss, safe in the claws of the gorse, kneading her mother's belly for milk. She felt safe in the brambles, safe in her mother and father's love for each other. Someday, Fleetkit would be a warrior, and she would fight ShadowClan for their territory, chase off RiverClan invaders, show ThunderClan their strength...and someday, Fleetwing suddenly remembered, I promised myself that someday I, too, would have kits. I would find love and we would have kits together, bringing in a new litter of warriors into the Clan. The ultimate sign of love outside of leaving your Clan for it, but much, much safer and more loyal.
A minute ago, Fleetwing's resolve was like a granite boulder that could not be weathered. Now it crumbled into pebbles. She didn't know what to think--was she ready to have kits? Or was she unwilling to sacrifice her freedom? I can't think here! Fleetwing got to her feet. I'm going for a run; then and only then can I decide for once and for all!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 04, 2008 6:53 am
Fleetwing got to her feet, padded through the gorse tunnel, and came out onto the moor. From the second her paws took her outside, she was racing over the grasslands she loved.
This was it! This was as she was meant to do. To run! No kits to keep her back, no stuffy bush to sit in, unable to escape. She was free to do as she willed, her paws drumming the ground in her freedom. She and Wildspot were by no means under obligation to have kits; nowhere did it say that two cats in love had to have kits. It was merely a path most of them took. My parents took that path, but I don't have to. I am a falcon in feline form, a being of the wind that gave my Clan its name. We have a choice; we always have a choice. My choice is whether or not to be a mother, is it not? My decision is no: no kits, no imprisonment. Besides...there's something else...
She had never expected to fall in love; she had always imagined herself as not being as pretty as the other she-cats. It had come as a shock, therefore, to suddenly find herself side-by-side with a tom who would share her love. This development had pushed her in a direction she had never thought she would face: the direction she was facing now. Mother or hunter? Kits or the wind? Some other she-cats, she knew, made the decision young, as an apprentice or even as a kit. Fleetwing had not, so now was the time to gather her resolve and return to give her decision.
((Not over yet...won't be over 'til I say that it is!))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 28, 2008 7:36 pm
Fleetwing began to slow down as she started to run out of breath. She stopped altogether when she reached the crest of a small hill facing the Thunderpath. In the darkness, only the occasional monster passed, its eyes glowing in a line that streamed past even faster than a WindClan warrior could run. They roared past, too, in the cool night air. No longer in motion and mesmerized by the light and the breeze, she began to rethink her position...
Some she-cats still continued with their warrior activities while caring for kits. Her grandmother had, hadn't she? She used to tell stories of fighting off ShadowClan before coming back to see her kits in the nursery. She probably wasn't serious, but maybe she had a point... Fleetwing thought. In fact, the more Fleetwing thought about it, the idea of kits became more attractive. She could watch them grow into strong warriors who could defend the Clan and ensure that WindClan would endure. Besides, she was eager to see Wildspot's children--she was sure they would be as handsome as their father--and she certainly would never want another she-cat to steal his heart!
So do I want kits or not? she asked herself. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever decide. I...I think I do...but I'll bet that I'm going to change my mind in a few minutes. She shook her head. Somehow, some way, she would decide. Preferably by tomorrow so she could tell Wildspot her decision.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Feb 21, 2009 12:01 am
Fleetwing closed her eyes as a cool wind swept through her thin fur. Leafbare wasn't too far off, she reckoned, though the days were still relatively warm. Soon the prey would run thin, there would be less food. She had lived through winters before. She remembered the trouble there was every leafbare--famine, green cough, border disputes, ice covering the river. A warrior's life was dangerous. Maybe not as dangerous as a rogue's, but if she were a rogue, she would want a kittypet's life for her kits--morally detrimental, but a kittypet was never cold, never had to fight for their food, never had to fight...
Cats died. It was as simple as that. Fleetwing shivered as she thought of the WindClan she knew as a kit. Most of the cats were still alive, but her mentor and her parents were dead. Her siblings had died long ago. Funny...sitting vigil, she had never wondered how the parents of the deceased felt. What if it wasn't a distant cousin lying dead...what if it was Wildspot? She jerked her eyes open, took several deep breaths, dug her claws into the earth. No. I can't think of that. I love him. I would give my life to him. He will not die. He cannot die. Worse...what if it was her kit...her kit with Wildspot?
Even without kits, Fleetwing's heart ached at the idea, at the mere notion of losing something she curled her tail around as a kit, groomed and cared for, loved and watched grow...how could she bare to lose a kit? She would. Every mother lost a kit someday; most were unlucky enough to lose a kit while still amongst the mortal clans. What sort of fool bares themselves to more pain and suffering than nature throws at them? Fleetwing wondered. Not me. I don't think I could be a mother...I don't think I could handle the agony of lose so many times.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
