Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bristlefrost turned and glanced back toward the surface. It looked very far away now. Her struggle with Ashfur had dragged her body down into the very depths of the dark water, and she felt the last of her strength ebbing from the gash in her neck. The surface, the living world, the Clans—they were far out of her reach.

Her body relaxed, and the pain of her wounds eased. The dark water no longer terrified her; it felt warm and soothing, engulfing her like an embrace.

It’s time to rest.

But she looked up once more at the vanishing surface.

And for a moment, she felt a presence. 

At first, she thought it was Ashfur. Her body went rigid, and she worried she had failed somehow… but concentrating on it, she realized that that was not the case. There was something else closing in on her.

Something… faint 

It took her a second to even realize it was a cat. It didn’t feel like one-- staring at her with soft, invisible eyes. It felt like an absence. 

Could… could a cat even be that?

“Who are you?” she whispered, wondering how someone was down here with her. It was only Ashfur she’d dragged into the dark water, and she hadn’t seen anyone lurking in the depths.

“I’m you,” the cat replied, words almost a whisper. They sounded sad, Bristlefrost thought. She wasn’t sure how she knew that. Had the other cat even spoken?

“No you’re not,” she said. “You’re not me. You’re…” She squinted, slightly. “You’re nothing.”

A tail on her shoulder. A sad, sympathetic purr.

“As you, too, will soon be,” the cat said. “You’re right. Perhaps, I’m not you. But we’ll soon be one in the same.”

Bristlefrost looked up towards the surface. She tried to see Shadowsight’s… Rootspring’s face.

“Are you scared?” The specter asked.

“No,” Bristlefrost said. “I don’t think so.”

She closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but there was no harm in humoring them. 

“I wasn’t, either,” the cat said. “At least I don’t think so. Mostly I felt… brave.”

“Like you were taking part in something so much larger than you ever could have been?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Do you have a name?” Bristlefrost asked.

“Not anymore,” the cat said. “But, at one point, I believed they called me Spottedleaf.”

“...Spottedleaf,” Bristlefrost repeated. She wondered if she’d heard that name before. “You’re also so far from the stars.”

Not in the Dark Forest. Somewhere so much more suffocating than that.

(Drowning here, with her.)

“I wasn’t always,” Spottedleaf said. 

“You saw them, then?” Bristlefrost asked. “The heavens?” A pause. “What were they like?”

“They were… nice, I think,” Spottedleaf hummed. “But that’s not what I’m here to talk about.”

Bristlefrost blinked.

“You’re not here alone, are you?” She asked.

She could feel another presence. It was more tangible, this time. There was a warmth pressed up against her flank.

“No,” Spottedleaf said. “I brought more of us.”

“They’re not like us,” Bristlefrost replied. Maybe for a second she’d thought they had been, but they weren’t. 

She could see blue eyes… a flash of honey-golden fur. There was a cat with a short tail watching her. A graceful, sleek, gray she-cat as well.

She looked down towards her paws. She couldn’t make them out anymore. Not like she could these cats.

“They’re not like us,” she repeated.

“Yes they are,” Spottedleaf insisted. “Maybe not in oblivion, but in ‘what could have been.’”

‘What could have been’ Bristlefrost thought, trying to lock eyes with the other cats.

“Who are you?” She asked.

She didn’t get an answer.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” a dappled, golden cat said, pressing her nose to her cheek. “You’re still so young.”

A deep aura of sadness emanated from her. It emanated from all of these cats. 

“Who are you?” Bristlefrost repeated.

“Oh, does it really matter?” the golden cat said. “I’m a mother. That’s all I ultimately needed to be.”

“As am I,” another cat said, head bowed. She had beautiful gray fur, with dark flecks, and green eyes. 

“A lover,” a brown-and-white tabby whispered.

“A lover as well,” from a stout, short-tailed calico.

“I think we all loved,” a sleek, light-gray tabby said, swimming through the darkness as if it came naturally.

“Oh yes, we all loved,” The brown-and-white tabby replied. “But not like I loved him. Not like I still do.”

“Even though he moved on? Even though he wouldn’t have wanted the same for you?”

The brown-and-white tabby bowed her head. “Always. It’s not even a question. ”

“I was a martyr,” a silver-black tabby with a fuzzy tail replied. She could swim, too. She took her place next to the other silver tabby.

“Most of us were, I think,” the cat next to her responded, licking the fur on her forehead. “Not in the way that you were-- dying for a cause, but certainly for something.”

“You’re dying for a cause, too, aren’t you?” The fuzzy-tailed tabby asked, peering at Bristlefrost. “You’re going to be a hero.”

“I am,” Bristlefrost said, nodding. “The whole clan is going to remember me.”

The short tailed, calico cat cocked her head.

“For how long?”

“They always tell stories of Skystar,” The brown-and-white tabby said. “But no-one remembers Bright Stream.”

“Is that your name?” Bristlefrost asked.

“It’s okay, dear,” the dappled golden cat told her. “We’ll remember you, if no-one else.”

“Don’t say that,” Bristlefrost replied. “Rootspring will remember me.”

“Is that his name?”

“Rootspring,” Spottedlead purred. “I can tell you love him a lot.”

“Is he the one you died for?” the light-gray, silver tabby asked.

“No,” Bristlefrost replied. “I died to save everyone.” A pause. “Though I guess if I had to narrow it down, I died for my friend, Shadowsight.”

“Ah,” the fuzzy-tailed tabby said. “And so Rootspring is just the one who will have to live with the grief.”

“...I died for little Briarkit,” the dappled-golden cat said, eyes shut. “But it was Berrynose who suffered most, I think. It was his story, after all.”

“I died for my kits,” the short-tailed calico whispered. “My wonderful, beloved, Owl Eyes, Sparrow Fur, and Pebble Heart. But it was Gray Wing who suffered most, I think, yes.”

“How many of us died for them?” silver-black tabby asked. “For the sin of being a mother?”

“Quite a few, I’d reckon,” the speckled-gray cat replied. 

“You didn’t die for your kits, did you?”

“No, I suppose not,” she said. “But perhaps for the crime of having them.” She turned towards Bristlefrost. “I still don’t regret it, though.”

“Of course not,” the silver-black tabby replied, giving the fuzzy-tailed tabby a lick behind the ear. “Never. What I really regret is falling in love.”

The dappled-golden cat licked her.

“You were young. You didn’t know any better.”

“It’s not his fault he moved on,” The silver-black tabby whispered. “He was young, too, but, oh, how I wish I could have grown up. Oh, how I wish I could move on, too.”

“I died for the one who sung my song,” the fuzzy-tailed tabby said, head bowed. “...Oh, how it hurt him. I still regret the way I made him afraid to love, and yet…- I do wish I could grieve myself, too. I made a very big sacrifice.”

“At least you made a sacrifice,” the brown-and-white cat said. “...I think I died for nothing. I think I died simply so he could hurt.”

What an abundance of ways to go out. Bristlefrost wasn’t sure she’d ever really understand what these cats lost, but she thought she could understand their grief, at least. 

It felt decades old. It felt the same as her own.

Even so, Spottedleaf remained silent. For some reason, the quiet spoke volumes. 

Bristlefrost turned her head towards the invisible cat.

“What did you die for?” She asked.

Still, Spottedleaf didn’t respond.

Bristlefrost felt a twang in her gut…- the intuition that she’d somehow crossed a line.

“I’m sorry if that’s too personal,” she meowed.

“No. It’s okay,” Spottedleaf said. “I just need a second to think. I think I died for…” she drifted off. “Well, perhaps I died for all of the above.”

“For all of the above?” Bristlefrost asked.

“I died to protect kits. I died for my sins. I died for being a she-cat, and I died for being selfless, and I died for nothing. And most importantly, I died for daring to love.”

For some reason, Bristlefrost felt defensive. She knew they didn’t mean to make her wary, but the strange, sad, sympathetic look in these cats’ eyes put her on edge. She wasn’t…- she didn’t die for--

“I didn’t die for love,” she repeated. “I didn’t die for Rootspring. This was my choice.”

Yes, she loved him, but she didn’t die for him. She wouldn’t let them convince her of that.

“Of course not, dear,” The golden cat said. “You’ve been very strong. And there are things worth dying for.”

“But didn’t you feel like the stars shut you out?” The silver tabby asked. “That, sometimes, things weren’t within your control?”

“Maybe that they were looking down on you… punishing you for--”

“No,” Bristlefrost said, looking serious. She let out a strained breath. It was getting harder to breathe now, but even so, she wouldn’t back down. “Maybe…-” she drifted off. “The stars have been absent for a while now, but I don’t think that was Rootspring’s fault, and I don’t think it was mine, either. It’s something everyone was suffering from.”

“Right,” the silver tabby replied. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to project. It’s just…-”

“I get it,” Bristlefrost meowed. “You’re hurting, too.”

Maybe not in the exact same way she was, but in some shape or form.

“And… maybe you’re right that he was the focus, at least for a lot of things. Even just now… before you showed up, I was thinking of him. Why?” Her voice cracked. “Aren’t I going to miss my mother? My father? My friends and my family, too?”

…Rootspring-- she could barely make his face out now, but he wasn’t the only one she could hear weeping. What about Ivypool? Fernsong? Shadowsight? Spotfur?

Oh…- oh Starclan. Spotfur. Bristlefrost was supposed to be there for her. She was supposed to help her raise her kits. And now she wasn’t even going to get to see them be born. She wasn’t even going to get to say goodbye. She wasn’t going to see Stemleaf in Starclan and tell him that she was healing, or watch that family one day reunite.

Why… why was she just thinking about Rootspring? It’s not that she didn’t love him, but she had so much to lose!

And now…- all of it was going away.

Tears pricked in her eyes. She felt a rock form in her stomach.

She… she was scared. Maybe that’s why she was thinking of him. He brought her some comfort. But… she was still scared, even now. She…- she didn’t want to die. She wanted to be brave, don’t get her wrong, but there was just so much to lose!

“Why was I thinking about him?” She whispered. “Why… only him? It was like…- like…-”

“Like you were cursed?” Spottedleaf asked.

Bubbles drifted from Bristlefrost’s open mouth. She was silent for a second, but shook her head once more.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“That’s fair enough,” Spottedleaf replied. “It just feels like sometimes that’s all that we’re allowed to be. Mothers. Martyrs. Lovers. ‘What else could possibly matter to you?’ the world whispers.”

“I don’t think there’s any shame in that,” the fuzzy-tailed tabby reassured. “...Don’t beat yourself up for thinking about him. You’ve ought to be scared right now. He can bring you comfort. I was thinking about poor Crowpaw, too, when I died. Maybe not in the way he thought of me…- but I did love him, even if not in the way he loved me back.”

“Sometimes, being a lover is the most brave thing you can do,”  the golden cat meowed. “Oftentimes, the world will resent you for it.”

“...Do you mean StarClan?” Bristlefrost asked, hesitant.

“Oh, no,” the golden cat replied. “Something much more powerful. Something further beyond our control. StarClan, too, occasionally, but…” she drifted off. “I don’t hate you, at least.”

“None of us do,” the brown-and-white tabby whispered.

“I’m scared,” Bristlefrost repeated.

“I know, dear,” the brown-and-white tabby replied. “I think we all were.”

Looking closer, Bristlefrost could make out claw-marks on her stomach.

“I wasn’t,” Spottedleaf said. “I felt as if it had been coming for me for a long time.”

“I didn’t have time to be afraid,” the golden cat said. “I died so fast. I was scared in StarClan, though… seeing the way that it broke him.”

A lump rose in Bristlefrost’s throat.

“I hope this won’t break Rootspring,” she meowed.

“It will,” The fuzzy tailed cat said. “...I’m sorry, but there’s no preventing that. It’ll take him a very long time to heal.”

“And when he does heal,” the silver tabby cat said. “He’ll move on. He’ll forget you. Is that really what you want?”

“...Of course not,” Bristlefrost said. “But he won’t forget me. Rootspring would never.”

“Don’t let them break your spirit,” Spottedleaf meowed. “...If that’s what you need to believe, then so be it. Rootspring will help you live on.”

“Even though you’ll be gone.”

By that point, Bristlefrost had almost vanished entirely. It wasn’t not just her paws she couldn’t make out anymore. She couldn’t feel her hindlegs. Her chest. Her tail.

“I’m sorry, Bristlefrost,” the short-tailed cat said, perhaps the first to address her by name. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s okay,” Bristlefrost replied, trying her best to be brave. “...Life’s not fair.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Spottedleaf said with a sad smile. “Least of all to us.” 

Bristlefrost’s vision was fading out. Soon, she’d be gone. Then, she’d be just like these cats… a footnote, perhaps.

“...Why did you come here?” She asked. “Did you really need to see this?”

“I told you why we’ve come,” Spottedleaf replied. “We are you. That’s all that was needed.” She pressed her nonexistent head to Bristlefrost’s. “Perhaps, in offering you some comfort, we could ease our own heartache.”

“I’m sorry,” the silver tabby said. “...You don’t deserve to be used like that.”

“We’re not using her,” The dappled gray cat argued. “...That’s not why I’m here, at least. I just wanted to make sure she didn’t die alone.” 

She drew in closer to Bristlefrost, too, tapping her shoulder with her tail.

“You’re not alone. You will never be alone, my dear.”

“I hope we could make it a little more comfortable,” the short tailed cat meowed. “I know that it’s scary, but it must be nice to have a friend.”

“We won’t bother you much longer,” Spottedleaf reassured. “If nothing else, you deserve to keep your last few thoughts to yourself. But all that we wanted to tell you is that you were loved. And that even if the world won’t miss you, we will. Think of whatever it is that brings you comfort, but think about yourself, too. They’ll all live on, but you’re as good as gone.”

“Right…” Bristlefrost replied. “Right. I’ll try my very best. But first…-”

She drifted off.

“What is it like?” She asks. “Is it scary? Or…?”

“No, it’s not scary once you’re ready,” Spottedleaf said. “...If anything, it’s a relief. No more eyes on you to worry about. Nothing that you have to be.”

“I’d have liked to be more,” Bristlefrost admitted.

“You were enough as is. It’s okay to feel robbed, but don’t let anybody discredit you.”

“...I was enough,” Bristlefrost repeated.

“Goodbye, Bristlefrost,” Spottedleaf said.

“You’re going already?”

“You can’t stay much longer. There’s nothing else we can do for you. I hope that this was enough.”

And then, just like that, she was gone. Bristlefrost stared up at the quickly disappearing light, wondering what awaited her next. Was nothingness a divine retribution, or was it a freedom, like Spottedleaf said?

Either way, she wasn’t given long to think it over much longer. Briefly, she saw Rootspring in her mind. Briefly, she saw herself. Briefly, she saw them nestled together, and then she was gone. Thinking of the cat she loved, but of Bristlefrost, too, she vanished, and the dark water went still.

A thousand feet above, her lover wept. He screamed and he cried and he attempted to dive into the inky river. But his friends held him back… having to use teeth and claws. And so Rootspring was left to grieve, because there was nothing of Bristlefrost left.

No part of her to feel pity for him, much less for herself.

It was his story now. Perhaps he’d sing her song or perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he’d move on, or perhaps he’d cocoon himself in grief. Either way, Bristlefrost couldn’t weep with him. As he was dragged from the forest of darkness, what’s left of her was blipped out.

Burying itself alongside another thousand she-cats just like her.