Closed Thread Surviving the Cold

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. - Cicero

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Beewhiskers’ dreams of green-leaf moors faded to white as a thick mist bloomed from the waving grass. The scene gave way to a field of snow white grasses that waved in the winds as snowflakes that defied sense and lacked a chill floated amongst the gusts.

Then, rising from the grass and drifting together from the mist formed a tremendouse creature. It was easily the size of a bear the Cats of the clan occasionally saw rummaging amoungst the two-leg refuse left behind where they wandered. When it rose the white of the place came with it, and the grasses grew a rich golden before fading again into white.

The cat (for it was a cat) stepped from the place it has rises from, leaving behind tracks of gold that faded back to snow as his paws left them, the short fur covering most of his still misty body rippling with the muscle underneeth. About his head was a ruff of fur that hung in long locks that drifted in winds no other creature could feel. The end of his tail carried a plume of the same hair.

The lion (for it was a lion) leaned down towards Beewhisker. His voice was a quiet rumble. “Greetings, Cub born of the Winds.”

Real strength isn't just in fighting, it's knowing when to stand firm and when to lend a paw.

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Every instinct in Beewhisker's body told them to run, but their paws kept them still, their movement had been driven to a holt as there was something much larger and much more regal than anything they had come across before, while terrified, Beewhisker was also enchanted, their widened eyes filled with both fear and awe while their ginger, black and white fur was bristled to make them seem larger, but there was nothing that could compare to the felidae standing in front of them.

When Beewhisker's paws finally released them from the stillness, they staggered back instead of bolting, knowing even if they did run, this creature would be able to catch up to them, so their fear only pulled them back a few pawsteps. "Who are you?" was the first of many questions that would come to leave Beewhisker's throat. "Where am I? Why am I here? What is going on? Where are my kits?!" their blue eyes flicked around with a terrifies resolve but they didn't dare move.

After the initial panic settled, Beewhisker glanced down at their white paws, nearly blending in with the shade of the grass beneath them now when the white would have normally made them stand out against it, their chest was tight and their heart thudded so densely and quickly that Beewhisker thought that it was about to leap from their chest. "Is this... StarClan? Have I died?"

"No... it feels like I'm still alive" they added more quietly, mostly to themselves rather than to the being they have met eyes with.

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. - Cicero

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”You are correct, Beewhisker born of the Winds, you yet live.” The lion didn’t move, trying to let the panic striken she-cat. ”I am Hetasha, who was born of the Plains in the times before the Great Clans split.” He settled on his belly, the ruff of his mane settling around him like a ghostly cloud. With him stilled it was possibe to notice the ephemeralality of his form, which shifted and shimmered between transparent and opaque.

”The place you are might be simplified to StarClan, but the skies are more vast that you can imagine, Child of the Winds. There is life everlasting in earthly memory.” Hetasha shifted his forepaws, crossing one paw so large it could have crushed Beewhisker’s skull if the lion took to battle over the other. ”Only the parts of you that make you yourself have been brought to this place. The earthly self awaits you with your kits from whence you came.”

His great head, shrouded in the hood of his mane that blew in unfelt winds, lowered to rest on the crossed paws. ”We have a matter to discuss. Now is not a time for violence. You need not have fear of me tonight.”

Real strength isn't just in fighting, it's knowing when to stand firm and when to lend a paw.

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With a shaken, drawn out breath, Beewhisker let themself calm down, their black, ginger and white fur flattening against their back. They knew that Hetasha wasn’t going to harm them, if they wanted to they definitely could have. But there was still something in their chest that prevented them from truly calming down completely. "Hetasha, a name that I’ve never heard before, but one that is just as enchanting to hear" they replied, their thick-furred white tipped tail flicking absently behind them "I don’t believe I need to introduce myself, you know who I am" they added.

"A discussion…" They confirmed, their widened eyes becoming softer as they gradually became more comfortable in the presence of the large cat. They proved this by lowering themselves onto their haunches, curling their tail around themselves as they glanced down at their white paws, almost invisible against the white grass, but the grass seemed to have a more ethereal glow to it, to Beewhisker it did anyway. "If you had intended on my harm, I wouldn’t be sitting here speaking with you" they added, mostly to themself as they glanced back at the ghostly white felidae.

When the safety of their kits was ensured, the corners of Beewhisker’s mouth curled upward into a small, yet soft smile that made their face had a small bit of warmth to it, their top canines poking out from under their upper lip. But the question remained, what would they be discussing… No matter what it was, Beewhisker was sure that they would be able to consult Rowanglade about it after they woke, though as much as she could have spread light on all of this, there was only so much a medicine cat could do. "So… should we get to what you wanted to discuss, Hetasha?"

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. - Cicero

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Hetasha gave a slight nod of his head without lifting it from his paws when they admitted to his knowing who they where, and to their admission that he could be deadly to a creature their size.

”Did the Wind-born Elders not tell you Gnarus’ story?” There was the rumble of a quiet laugh in his voice. ”Those it’s not ususally me that sticks in a Kit’s mind.”

Real strength isn't just in fighting, it's knowing when to stand firm and when to lend a paw.

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"It has been a while, though, recollection brings me to tales of the clans’ beginnings" Beewhisker answered honestly, their ears twitching only slightly. They recalled being told stories from elders about how the clans began, but some were retold differently from how the elders had heard them and it had been many generations since that was how time changed things. "But I’m sure I haven’t gotten the true story anyway" they added

Beewhisker’s body curled into a loaf-like position, tucking their paws beneath their chest and their tail abound their legs. "I haven’t sought the stories in a while really" they admitted, twitching their tail in embarrassment. Beewhisker was oddly embarrassed about not seeking the stories of elders despite it being something kits would go out of their way to do, and sometimes most elders didn’t give an accurate story, so Beewhisker knew a lot of the stories were embellished with bits and pieces from generations of the past that have added things that might only be partially true.

The fluffy tortoiseshell’s nose twitched and their expression lit up slightly "Perhaps I could hear the real story" They prompted lightly, the tip of their tail twitching in anticipation as if they were an energetic kit again, begging an elder for a story. But there was still dignity to how they spoke and their actions as a whole, as they were not a kit anymore and even had a litter of their own, so it wasn’t like they were begging, more-so asking for a recap on a story once quite lost.

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. - Cicero

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”History is in the words of the victors, little cub.” Hetasha sighed, His voice growing morose. ”Once I saw power in the cub of two Clans, and it was my undoing.” The vaugly aqua eyes turned Skyward, as if looking deeply at the starless sky above, Hetasha’s mane falling back from his face as watched.

”Gnarus was broken by his own bloodlines. And in his breaking he showed the path to the end all clans, even before the splitting.”

”Loyalty is all that keeps our Clans, and our Skies, safe. Had Gnarus been less broken his power would have shattered LionClan. Would he have stopped after we had fallen?” There was a bitterness in Hetasha’s voice. ”I didn’t think so. And I did the impossible, for he outmatched my size and strength by half again, to stop him. I still lend aid to the impossible in your day. I gave everything to stop the spawn of trechery that day.”

Hetasha’s eyes slid downwards, coming to rest on Beewhisker’s compact form. ”Will you risk what your treachery has spawned by continuing it? Will you risk your choices ending them?”

Real strength isn't just in fighting, it's knowing when to stand firm and when to lend a paw.

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Beewhisker blinked up at Hetasha, their gaze bright but steady, though the lion’s imposing figure and grave words sent a ripple of unease through their chest. Still, their natural lightheartedness flickered like a flame against the heaviness of the dream. They tilted their head slightly, their tortoiseshell fur ruffling in the dream’s strange, weightless wind.

"Treachery, huh?" Beewhisker began, their voice gentle but tinged with their usual cheerful edge. "Big word for someone as small as me. But, no offense, Hetasha—if I’m risking something, I’d rather risk a future with a bit more joy than... whatever this shadowy history is you’re laying out." They gave a small, nervous chuckle, their paw shifting as if to ground them against the lion’s towering presence.

They sat straighter, their compact form filled with surprising steadiness. "I get it, though" they said, their voice softening. "History’s messy. Clans rise, clans fall, and choices ripple out farther than we ever mean for them to. But... I can’t sit here and let fear of the past stop me from trying to build something better. We all have a little risk in us, don’t we? Even you. You risked everything, you said, to protect what mattered most. Wouldn’t it have been worse to do nothing at all?"

Beewhisker flicked their tail, a faint smile teasing their lips, though their eyes shone with sincerity. "Look, I might not have a mane or some sky-shattering power, but I’ve got a heart. A heart that loves my clanmates, loves my friends, and loves the little things that make life worth chasing. If that’s treachery, then maybe I’ll wear the word with pride."

They glanced down at their paws for a moment before lifting their gaze back to Hetasha. "But I hear you. Loyalty matters. I’ve made my choices, and I’ll keep making them with my whole self. Not out of fear, but out of hope. And if that’s not enough? Well, you’ve already proven that impossible things aren’t out of reach, haven’t you?" Their smile brightened, warm as the full moon.

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. - Cicero

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Hetasha watched the she-cat try and make light of the situation, to dare on the impossible. ”Oh, little cub, you misunderstand…” Hetasha’s voice was a deep sigh. “It’s not your happiness or future that is left to risk. You made your nest and accepted it. You may well survive it if you find happiness amoungst your own; waiting ready for what might be asked of you by the clan that is yours.”

Hetasha didn’t give them a chance to cut him off. He would speak on even if they tried. ”The future is in motion, little Cub, but it is on you to decide if you will risk your litter for it. Little lights you could see snuffed out for your choices ever come to walk the Skies.”

Hetasha closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before rising to his paws and giving his mane a shake. ”You will need to either stand by and let the future come as it may, defending them, or take action that will unviel you. I won’t tell you what to do, but know that I will watch. I aide in the impossible when it serves, but not when it serves self.”

”What was it you said?” Hetasha finally returned her laugh with a spark of humor in his rumbling voice. ”Ah… yes. ’Clans rise, clans fall, and choices ripple out’. Other ripples are on the move, little Cub. You will have to decide with whome your loyalties lie.” He stilled, watching and waiting, with incoporeal tendrels of his mane blew about him like moonlight.

Real strength isn't just in fighting, it's knowing when to stand firm and when to lend a paw.

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Beewhisker's gaze didn't falter, from Hetasha's daunting form, though the rising of the fur along their spine portrayed their fear, or at least agitation given the situation and the choice making their paws heavy. But it lightened with the fact that it was between their clan and their kits, their love for WindClan overshadowed their love for their kits, but only by a touch so the choice was clear, even if they lost their kits, their life in WindClan would go on.

"WindClan is my duty, I will be loyal to the place I have grown up in and that is my final choice, kits or not, I am a WindClan warrior, nothing will change that unless StarClan begs for my death" Beewhisker stated strongly, they held themself with sturdiness, standing with their white paws stood equal lengths from one another to keep their body strong and sturdy as they stood on their choice. "I adore my kits but my choice will not hinder my love for my clan, my loyalty stays with the clan I was born into" they added, as the anxiety and agitation in the pelt ebbed away like stars at dawn.

"I'd like to return to my kits regardless, I feel we have not much left to discuss, and if we do, I ask for it to be another time" They meowed, stern yet spritely and soothing, as if to be an attempt to not cause any anger or frustration in Hetasha as they spoke firmly. "WindClan needs me now more than StarClan does"

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. - Cicero

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”Raise them to be as loyal to WindClan as you and I will not have to take any actions, little Cub.” Hetasha came slowly up to his paws, looking down at the Clan Cat.

He took two steps in her direction, the mist of his form thinning until it fell around Beewhisker without any sense of motion in the air of the space. The wheaten color of the grass at his paws faded as the mist of his form did, leaving only the unaturally white landscape of the dreamscape.

Hetasha’s voice came again; ”Give them no reason to question where they become and all will be well.” Then stillness reigned on the dreamy fields of white before a veil of fog drifted down from the starless sky, only to be overtaken by darkness.

Real strength isn't just in fighting, it's knowing when to stand firm and when to lend a paw.

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Beewhisker didn't reply, but did give a nod to the lion as he rose to his giant paws. Beewhisker knew that they would want their kits to be loyal and they would raise them to be as loyal as their own mother raised them. They didn't doubt their abilities, so they had faith in what they were able to do in the nursery, and they loved their kits, and even if they wouldn't give up WindClan for them, Beewhisker was determined to ensure that it wouldn't need to come to that.

As the mist shrouded around them, they looked down at their paws, almost completely hidden in the mist. A gentle smiled pulled at the corners of their cheeks and they curled down onto the belly and shut their eyes, letting the mist cloud around them as they slowly drifted away from it.

And suddenly, Beewhisker was back in the nursery, they two kittens nuzzled closely at their belly. Beewhisker let out a soft sigh of relief, at least Cedarkit and Berrykit were safe in the moment, and hopefully they always will be. Beewhisker rasped their tongue over their offspring's head lovingly as they slept "Dream well my kits, you'll be loyal warriors yet"