and it rains

[occultation]

It was pouring, and he was alone.

What else was new these days?

Soft paws padded along the same paths he'd come to know like the top of his tongue. He'd been down these same trodden paths again and again, every single day. It was his route, the trail he'd chosen to evaluate his territory by. Sometimes, he came out here solely so he could be alone with his thoughts.

This current part of his path was taking him near one of the corners of their territory, not too far from where he'd been attacked almost a moon before. It was hard for him to believe that he'd been leader for a moon, almost. It felt like only a day, at times, and at others it felt like a full season-cycle.

The camp was safe without him, for now. Dusklion, Seabreeze, Owltalon, Mistyshard. They were all good, highly capable cats. RiverClan was much better off with them; they'd be just fine thanks to their efforts, even if he were to never return.

Could he say the same of his presence within the Clan? What differences were felt when he was gone? If he were to disappear for a day, a quarter moon, a full moon, would it mean anything significant to anyone but those who cared for him as more than a Clanmate? Before, he would've known the answer to be a resounding yes.

But what about now? What about now, when his Clan had more than just a couple of cats to keep it steady? Was he really leading them in the right direction, or were his well-intentioned paws marching them straight to damnation?

It was a difficult, perhaps impossible, question to answer. Hope was his fire to keep lit for the Clan now. He was the fire-keeper, responsible both for stoking the flames and making sure they didn't swell out of control. So many cats before him had failed, reducing RiverClan's flame to just a few sparks.

Whether he thought he was doing the right thing or not, perhaps all that really mattered was that he was actually trying. At least... that's what he'd have to tell himself.

As he rounded a corner and began heading away from this particular part of the territory, something odd caught his eye. A.... flash of fur?

It was too large to be any prey, which had his claws unsheathing almost immediately. They looked to be about cat-sized. In the dark rain, it was hard to tell exactly who it was. He couldn't scent them from here. A RiverClan cat out for a run, or an outsider trying to flee after being spotted by him?

Either way, he needed to investigate. Memories of his attack swarmed his mind, but he shoved them down with great force. Not now. He wasn't going to be reduced to some weakling by his own thoughts. Not... not again.

Running in the direction he'd seen this cat go, he hoped he'd be able to catch up. Fortunately, his legs gifted him with speed that night, and he soon caught a glimpse of this mystery individual.

They were an orange and black cat, like him. Strikingly like him, actually. It was so jarring that he almost stopped, but his momentum kept him going.

The cat quickly disappeared into the ground. A tunnel entrance.

Perhaps against better judgment, the leader followed the cat straight into the tunnel. He was plunged into darkness. The ground beneath his paws was slick and muddy, wettened by the rain trickling down into the depths.

Digging his claws in as he ran to keep balance, he scented the air to try to pick up this cat's scent. What he smelled sent his paws rocking forward, causing him to crash into the muddy ground underfoot.

Lilacs. Lilacs. Lilacs.

At a time when he was nothing more than a little scrap of fur, just beginning to become aware of the world around him, there was one thing that stood out to him. It was a sweet scent, one that always clung to the fur of the cat who provided his food. His eyesight was still too blurry to really make out many defining features of this cat, but his nose told him two things.

One, milk-scent came from her, and milk-scent meant food. Two, she always smelled sweeter than the other cat who often came and spent time around him.

Later in life, he'd learn that this smell was that of lilacs. His memory of what exactly his mother looked like was iffy; all he could recall was that she had orange and black in her fur. But that scent; it stuck with him. It was a scent he held near and dear to his heart, one that never had clung to a cat's fur as intensely as it had his mother's.

Until that night.

His eyes stared off into the darkness, the lilac scent of this cat fading away as they drew further and further from him. An orange-and-black cat, smelling of lilac. Who are you?