— sorrow in the dark

[ameko]

“Listen to me, Brackenheart, he needs his mother!”

Voices. Familiar ones that grated against his ears. He stuffed his head in between his paws and tried to block it all out.

“You’re not fit to be one.”

A whine slipped out of him and he squeezed his eyes tighter. He just wanted to sleep, why couldn’t it all stop? He was in the nursery. Everything was fine. There was nothing here that could hurt him, nobody scary or mean. He had the queens, the other kits, and the walls around him keeping him safe. Though he was still familiarizing himself with everything around him, he knew he wouldn’t be hurt while he was here.

With these reassurances, the voices that haunted him began to grow fainter. For a short time, it seemed like he’d slip away into a peaceful sleep. His consciousness began to drift, slowly but surely, and everything around him began to fade.

But there was no escape from the memories in the darkness behind his eyelids. He dreamed.

— — —

It wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t cold, either. He couldn’t feel the sun on his fur but the wind that whistled around him was a sound he knew well. The grass came up past his shoulders, and he had to stand on his tippy-paws to be able to see his mother well.

There she stood, ragged, ears pinned back and tail tucked between her thin legs. He looked over to see someone else—his father—in front of them, towering over them all. “I’m taking him with me.”

A pang of cold worry thumped in his chest. He didn’t know this cat well. Not like his mother, who he’d been with for as long as he could remember. A tremble began to take hold in his tiny body and he shuffled closer to his mother. “He’s only two moons old!” she said above him.

His father’s stern voice startled him. “He’s already two moons old.”

Then, Brackenheart’s eyes locked onto his small figure. “— —, you’d do much better with me.” Where his name should’ve been, all he heard was static. The crunch of grass caught his attention and he looked down at Brackenheart’s enormous approaching paws.

“I’ll train you. You’d be strong, powerful, with me taking care of you.”

Would it all stop if he just did what this cat asked of him? If he stayed here, then he would just keep arguing, and his mother would keep being sad. Slowly, his eyes followed the length of Brackenheart’s body until he met his stare. There was no warmth in their shared gaze.

“Come here, — —. I don’t want to make this difficult.”

Quiet. Save for the wind, a forlorn sigh across the land. Though the pitter-patter of his heart never ceased, a cold calm overcame him and he took a step forward. His mother inhaled sharply. He took another step forward.

“What are you doing..?” came the now-shaky voice above him.

He made his way fully to Brackenheart’s side. All at once, a weightless feeling arose and he was lifted out of the tall grass. From where he dangled by his scruff, he stared blankly over at his mother. She looked so… small.

Suddenly, her muzzle parted in a sharp hiss. “You can’t do this! How’s he going to survive without his mother?”

Brackenheart’s voice rumbled his entire little body as he said, “There’s queens at camp.” Then, quieter, for his little ears, “You can’t trust her. She’s crazy.”

He didn’t even know what that word meant. His mother’s cries of indignation sounded far away, muted. The angry, despaired look that distorted his mother’s features sent a shiver through him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Why did she look like that? He’d never seen her so scary before.

…it. . . . . .

“Don’t take him away from me! Give him back!”

His body shook with every pawstep Brackenheart took, away from this place. From her.

…denkit. . !

— — —

Goldenkit’s head shot up and he looked frantically around the nursery. She wasn’t here. It was fine, there was nothing to worry about, he was safe with the other kits and—

“Goldenkit.”

A stern voice grabbed his attention. Brackenheart! Relief and warmth flooded into him at the sight of his dad. A quiet purr cracked to life inside of him, and on wobbly legs he stood. Dad!

Brackenheart turned to leave, merely flicking his tail behind him in acknowledgement. “Come.”

The purring stopped. “...yes, Father.”