This Is What We Know ✔️

ix. the three of us

chapter nine;
the three of us

p l o v e r p a w

By the time Yarrowstar had called a meeting announcing the death of Sabledusk, Ploverpaw had been expecting it. The leader had refused the feline training, as perfect as the day had been, and instead took to hopelessly pacing both in his down and just outside of it. Even Poppyfang, who seemed ever so indifferent at the possible notion of the warrior's death, couldn't comfort her mate in the wake of his death.

"They say his body washed up on the shore," Larkpaw murmured from beside Ploverpaw, stirring their thoughts on the matter and prying their gaze from the ledge above the clan clearing. "What a tragedy really, they say he was such a wonderful soul."

Ploverpaw clicked their tongue, shaking their head softly at the notion. Honestly, Larkpaw's antics about the matter frightened them slightly, as nonchalance at such a clan death was not one they would ever take lightly. Then the feline remembered Heronpaw's expression as he fell to the ground, shaking and yowling for his two companions to stay away.

"May he rest with your terrible ancestors now, and let his soul be pummeled by the trial of stones-"

"-forest of stones-"

"Right."

The two fell back into silence, but Ploverpaw found themself filling with images all over again, of Heronpaw and the forest, and what they saw moments before he fell to the ground. No matter what Kavaleaf said, this didn't feel like healing. None of it did.

It felt like they were all trapped in a perpetual nightmare without an escape in sight.

"You two okay?" Grousepaw's voice, which was a calm flurry of all things the apprentice was, rang over the two pondering felines. "Did you hear Sabledusk was found on the shore?"

Ploverpaw quipped, "I think everyone knows."

The news had spread like wildfire, catching nearly every AlpineClan cat by surprise. Notably, the less a warrior truly knew the dead tom cat, the more they mourned his lost soul.

"It's not that he's just dead," Heronpaw added, his voice muffled by the vole in his mouth. He set it down in front of Ploverpaw, brushing his fur against theirs, and sat protectively over them. "It's what state he was found in. Eyes were gouged, claws were ripped out, his tail was stripped to the bone..."

Silence claimed the four cats as they lapsed once more into an unruly absence of spoken word. Ploverpaw took to pressing their fur harder into Heronpaw's, greedy for the warmth and affection he offered plainly to them.

It wasn't long until Grousepaw and Larkpaw slunk away for their habitual naps, leaving Ploverpaw in the brazen sunlight with the orange tabby tom they loved so dearly. And yet their thoughts floated back to Kavaleaf at the same time, mesmerized by both cats simultaneously.

"Heronpaw? Would it be so bad to admit that I'm not in love with just you?" They spoke suddenly, disrupting the absent dissociation in Heronpaw. The tom cat flicked his ears but planted his gaze in the distance, and he shook his head.

His voice came softly, "Not nearly. I'd be lying if I said it was just you I loved."

Instead of stinging the pads of their paws, Ploverpaw relaxed at the notion. When Kavaleaf crept out of the medicine cat den, two pairs of electric eyes traveled to hers in a particular notion.

"I'm not just in love with you, my strand of gold. Look at them, look at the way their eyes haven't quite opened yet? They need us, they love us, unconditionally."

Umbertuft nudged the feline at his side, a countenance of genuine joy etched into his eyes.

Ploverpaw blinked the memories away, somehow remembering suddenly the silky pleasantries in the tom cat's voice.

But when they tried to recall him once more, they saw Heronpaw in their own place with Umbertuft's sweet green eyes replaced by the looming ones of Kavaleaf.