prayers ♡ open

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    // retro to before the battle <3


    The black sheet of midnight sky, tainted with dark blues and purples, was glimmering with little sparkling stars. Dozens of them lit up the midnight sky, shining hope on to the suffering clan of river cats. Through the silence and darkness, the petite figure of Sweetpaw could be seen; she was perched upon a rock, her thick feathery tail wrapped around her fluffy haunches. Anyone that knew Sweetpaw, knew that she was a deeply religious feline - with an unexplained connection to the spirit world. She had taken this starry night as a sign . . . that Starclan was with them, watching over them, and protecting them.


    Looking up in to the sky, mismatched eyes of baby-blue and foresty-green reflected the sparkling light of the stars, her eyes glimmering back at the sky as if they were having a silent conversation. "Dear Starclan . . . please protect us during the battle. Keep us safe . . . " Sweetpaw spoke to the sky, ears falling to stick to her skull in worry. It was rare to see Sweetpaw's mind preoccupied with dread of the future, she was usually blissfully unaware, but her mind was plague with the possibility that some of her clanmates won't be coming home from the battle.

    ✦ ✧ ✦

    It was a different kind of fret on Thistlepaw’s mind, not one of a grand presence or the uncertainty of the future like Sweetpaw struggled with. The past few days where he’d returned to RiverClan had left a harsh taste in his mouth, a clenching in his chest, and made sleep almost impossible to grasp. What he wrestled with was unknown even to him; it should be easy, returning to his home and living among his family. But he didn’t have any family anymore. His father was gone, and his siblings... he wondered if they faced a similar fate as he.


    So, instead of sleeping, Thistlepaw was up, staring idly at the wall of camp in front of him, wishing to be tired enough to sleep. It was a fruitless attempt, he knew, but the cold prevented him from wanting to do anything else. A melancholy voice entrapped his ears as a stark contrast to the quiet of the night. His blueish-green eyes travelled up, up toward the glimmering expanse of starpelt and all the wonders it held. How had he not noticed how clear it was?


    Glancing toward Sweetpaw, he inwardly weighed his options, ultimately picking himself up and quietly padding toward the ivory feline. He paused, frowning, in contemplation. “Are you going to the battle?” he meowed softly.

    Smoldering golden molten gaze traced Sweetpaw’s delicate frame, softening immensely at the sight of his apprentice praying to Starclan. Bearthroat wasn’t one much for religious acts and such but he respected everyone’s views regardless. The drastic differences upon the face of war couldn’t be any more different between the pair. Many found the temporary deputy a warmonger but what were they to do then? Continue to allow Thunderclan to not only steal their prey simply to spite them but to murder more of their members? He remained silent, a few feet away from both apprentices and watched the scene unfold before him.

    "An eye for an eye makes the whole w-world blind," His voice was unfazed as he approached, sturdy frame brushing upon that of his ranks as he took a seat a few feet back from the frozen river. The way the stars danced and skated across the ice reminded him of how beautiful, tragic his clan was. As it did look pretty down below, yet most of their wisdom was resting above. He snorted, in retort to the question of battle. He dared a soul lay a hand on his members again, the ones too young, too innocent to understand that their leader was throwing them into hell. Exposing them to a world where friends fought one another, stuttered on forgiveness, jumped straight to conclusions and ruined it all for everyone. Of course Chase was nothing but a dumb ass medicine cat, some starry-eyed idiot that talked to his mother on the wind as her scent bellowed through the atmosphere. He missed his mother. The wind grew cold where he sat, a sudden blast of frost threatening to bowl him over as he chuckled, caught by her again almost crying, muttering. "I know mom... I know."