[Arie]

{ This is purely backstory for Breezefeather's family and Windwatcher is his mother, who currently resides in Starclan}


The white she-cat with the light brown streaks in her fur was lying in the Windclan nursery curled up around her only surviving kit. She cherished him with everything she had, the little grey and black ball of fur that lay on her flank as he nursed hungrily. Having been prepared to feed 3 kits, her body has mass amount of milk and she had agreed with the leader to take in any strays.. She had more than enough milk to feed them. But the little one she cherished more than anything. However, even a month after his birth she'd yet to name him, she struggled with it because what would she name him after? To her Greykit sounded too ordinary. Her little tom would be nothing but ordinary, he would be so special that he would grow up and become known. Or so she hoped. She didn't want him to make the same mistakes that she had done... He was half loner... The loner she'd met who had later joined the clan and now laid under 3 tail lengths buried in the ground. He hadn't even lived long enough to see his kit be born. But maybe that was a blessing in disguise.. not having to bury the two who'd never taken their first breath. Longing to feel the rush of the wind through her fur as she delved into these thoughts a name came to Windwatcher.. Breeze. That was what she was going to name her kit. Breezekit. Who she hoped would gain a warrior name suiting his future.
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Windwatcher watched as her kit ran, sprinting across the ground in Windclan, his tail laying low along with his body as he ran. She sat there, watching her little tom enjoying life. He was three moons old now, half way to apprentice times and she already missed the needy kit he'd been before. But he was starting to figure out how fast his long legs could carry him and she sat there, a smile on her muzzle. Her beloved son. "Breezekit, little love, come here, its time for your bath, and I've got rabbit for you to eat." As the little grey kit sped over towards her she grabbed him and began washing you as he gobbled down on the rabbit that one of the warriors had been so kind to give to Windwatcher and her little tom. His fur was filled with sand and the she-cat stared at him questionably, "Have you been out rolling in the hills of the camp little love? What did I tell you about doing that, its not nice to have your mother washing a sandy fur." She purred and drew him ever closer, her green eyes watching out for any other cats. Many of the other kits had been nasty to her little Breezekit, his differences with is black spots on his fur was apparently making it hard for the other kits to accept him. It hurt Windwatcher... Her son didn't have a littermate to grow up with and would lack much of the social interactions if the other kits kept shunning him. But she could never say anything to the kits... it would be taking things too far. "Little love, what do you want to be when you grow up?" The kit looked up at her with his bright green eyes. "I want to be the best! I want to protect you! That is what I want to do, you have protected me, so I will protect you." It warmed her heart. She loved his kit, her only one, and she wanted him to grow up, but not be attached to her hip for the rest of time.
-
Breezekit had now turned 6 moons old and it was time for him to grow up. Windwatcher wished this wasn’t the case, but her beloved kit would have the opportunity to learn a lot, to become what he wanted to be and every moon since the he was 3 moons old, she’d asked him and he kept saying the same thing, “I want to be a warrior! So I can protect you against big bad Shadowclan. I won’t be afraid of them if they go after you!” She was still, according to him, his only friend and it hurt her heart that her kit was not more integrated into the clan life that was so vital for every young one. But she called into the nest, “Little love, it is time for your apprentice ceremony. Are you ready?” She watched as the silver kit jumped out of the nursery, his body strong and already filled out. He looked so grown already and she felt her heart squeeze. He would be leaving her now… and she would never be able to tuck him against her belly again and spend all her days with him. Because Breezekit, becoming Breezepaw would also mean she would have to return to her duties on the moor. Not that Windwatcher minded, she loved the moor and everything it held, but if it came down to choosing between the moor and her son she knew what she would be choosing any day. Never would she be willing to give her little love up for anything.
So she cleaned him up, washed his fur for one last proper time as mother and kit and sent him off to where the leader was standing on the breezerock.

“Windclan we’re gathered here today to witness the ceremony that signifies that lives continues to flourish within our clan. Breezekit is 6 moons old and ready to become an apprentice and an asset to Windclan. Breezekit, you’ll be apprenticed to Harestreak. Harestreak may you give this apprentice all your knowledge, speed and courage and help him on his road to become a valuable warrior for Windclan.”
“Breezepaw, Breezepaw, Breezepaw,” the clan cheered and Windwatcher stood still there, joining the call her eyes shining with pride. She wished, oh she wished, that she could go over to hug her son to fold him into her side and keep him safe forever, but that was not to be. He was a warrior apprentice now, he was ready to go out and train and fall and get hurt… it was the nature of everything they did, the warrior training.
-
Windwatcher had settled well back into her duties, every day out on a patrol or hunting for the clan. She’d been lucky to spend quite a few of those hunting patrols with her little love, Breezekit… No Breezepaw. But hunting was hard on her, she was often too busy looking out for Breezepaw. Her little love… Who she so wished was not filling out his muscles who was looking so strong for his small and bony and short furred frame. He was still struggling though with his long legs, as he’d always done as a kit. She wished she could help him more but her duties were too important to care for the kit who now had the comfort of a mentor and the bonding with all the other apprentices. He always came to her and told her if he’d caught anything and kept her updated on his training sessions but it all hurt. He was no longer her little Breezekit… He was grown, he was growing. But during one of her border patrols the patrol leader and Windwatcher herself had noticed more apparent Shadowclan activity around it. It did not shock the molly but it was something to be worried and concerned about.
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“Cats of Windclan! Shadowclan has crossed the border! We have to hurry there to contain their raid and drive them back over it again! All warriors must go there! The apprentices will be left defending the camp. We will spread out so we cover the most territory and attack sparsely. We must be prepared for anything.” Windwatcher was shook, but not surprised. It would be the perfect moment, and she feared for the consequences but she did follow the battle patrol she was allocated and together with her fellow warriors, the wind in their fur and the sundown approaching, they ran across the moor. She didn’t even have the time to say goodbye to Breezepaw and somehow it didn’t hit her that the day before might have been the last time she would ever see her son again. It was not a thought she had put any weight into and she was focused on the upcoming battle.

With her clanmates she attacked the group of Shadowclan cats on their side of the border, clawing them and using her speed to do the best she could to battle the growing feeling of dread in her stomach. As she turned around she realized that they’d been surrounded. It had been the Shadowclan plan all along and the white and brown molly had been caught in their trap along with her other clanmates. She knew that these wouldn’t hold back and so she pictured the little grey speckled cat in her eyes… Breezepaw. How she wished she would be able to see him grow up… to get his warrior name, to become a father… All of this she would now see from Starclan. There was no way she was going to get out of this alive… that she knew. And so she fought with and tooth claw until the light that shone in her green eyes no longer shone bright and she was left there… Left on the ground where her and her other clanmates who’d been caught had been left… And she would only be able to see her son from the stars… She hoped he appreciated everything she had done for him and that he would not grieve longer than necessary. He had a life full of everything for him and grieving over her was not something she would’ve liked him to spent his time doing.
-
Breezepaw had gone asleep not long after moonhigh when one of the other apprentices had taking over his watch. The elders had organized them that way and he went to sleep only to be woken moments later by his mentor, Harestreak. They were going on a patrol! Back to the Shadowclan border, to check if there were any leftovers from the battle. He hadn’t checked if any warriors hadn’t come back from the battle but he assumed they all had so the young and eccentric apprentice just decided to speed run all the way there, his long legs finally working together in harmony and carrying him down the moors in a fast pace, faster than he’d ever run in his life and he felt proud. Proud that he’d come so far from a little kit who’d be knocked down by the mildest breeze. But he stooped as soon as he reached the border… He felt his legs collapse underneath him as he stared at the body that was lying surrounded by other bodies he recognized.

But the one that stuck out to him, was the body whose white and brown fur was barely distinguishable by the blood that covered it… His mother. Windwatcher… The only one outside of Harestreak who’d actually cared for him. The one he’d vowed that he would always protect laid dead at his feet… Not every patrol had escaped Shadowclan’s claws. No… She couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. An extreme sense of denial watched over the young apprentice. “No… NO.. noo! She can’t be dead! She isn’t dead! She’ll wake up. She’ll wake up and tell me she loves me! She’ll call me Little Love again and tell me stories again! NO. She can’t be. She isn’t.” That was when the rest of the patrol had finally caught up to him… and he was dragged away. “Don’t let him see more… He’s already traumatized enough, take him directly to Surgestorm. He needs to be looked at… Or given something for the grief.”
-
It was many days later and Breezepaw had yet to leave his nest after discovering Windwatcher’s body. He’d heard they had buried her there… her final stand was where she’d been laid 3 feet under. He couldn’t believe it… He was still in denial and hoped that every time he opened his eyes that she would be there, standing, ready to tell him a story, ready to call him her little love again and again… But that would never be. He was alone again… And he doubted it would ever change
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Many moons later, Windwatcher sat up in Starclan and forced her vision to show her the Windclan camp. A certain event was going to happen today and it was one she wasn't going to miss. Her little love was finally going to become a warrior. She sat there, in Starclan and watched as he approached the leader... She didn't exactly remember their name and it didn't really matter to her, her focus was on Breezepaw. He looked so grown up, finally those long legs of his seemed to fit him... Tears slid to the front of her eyes as she watched on with pride. He was named Breezefeather... Because he seemed to flow on the breeze like the feather flew on the moors. She joined in with the chanting of his name, wishing so that he would be able to hear her... But she was dead and he was alive... And she just wished she could see him one more time... Tell him that she missed him, that she was so proud of him... But that was not to be.

Yet she knew... that her legacy, her heart and her hopes would live on in his most beautiful and cherished kit of hers. Breezefeather, son of Windwatcher.... Her one and only.