The Things We'll Never Forget

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(Quick little short (very short) story written on WA and copied/pasted into Wattpad)

Characters:
-Palethorn/paw (mine)
-Briarleaf (mine)
-Robinkit (nyankitty's)

Story based on an rp on a spin-off of WA
All art is mine

* * *

Her eyes were blank.

So blank.
Almost like she wasn't there. In a way, she wasn't. Trapped in memories, a million miles away, yet right there, trembling at his paws.

It was familiar.

So very, very familiar.

The scene shifted before his eyes. Everything faded to black, then he, too, was plunged into memory— forced to relive yet again the things he would never forget. Robinkit was gone. She had faded along with the version of himself that he had come to know. He felt shorter, and the cat that had taken her place was much larger, and her ginger belly had shifted to white. He recognized her immediately.

Briarleaf.
His beloved Briarleaf.

His mother.

Her body trembled as Robinkit's had, wracked with terror-induced tremors. Her eyes were closed, which meant hope. Nightmares were fine. Nightmares were easy. Nightmares were manageable. Palethorn(well, Palepaw) placed his now-small paws on his mother's shoulder, attempting to shake her awake. She did not stir.

The hope fizzled out and died.

His heart in his throat, Palepaw stepped back. He watched his mother convulse through sad eyes. The first time this has happened, his eyes had been blown wide with horror, but it was all too familiar now. The shock had ebbed after the third attack, and Palepaw was left with only empty dread.

He often wondered why StarClan had sent this terrible fate to meet him and his family at every turn. His mother was only here in the Apprentices' Den to keep him company during the lonely nights that plagued him once his siblings had left. They walked with StarClan, Briarleaf had told him. As if it had meant anything to him except that he'd continue to spend his nights cold and alone. He'd appreciated that Briarleaf had started sneaking into his den to comfort him, but the effort didn't serve his purpose.

Because of this.

These things he'll never forget.

Palepaw flinched as Briarleaf's eyes snapped open. As expected, they were glossy and distant. A terror; not a nightmare. It was expected, but Palepaw felt the familiar pang of dismay nonetheless. He murmured urgently to her to wake up, please, please wake up, but he knew she was not seeing or hearing anything around her. He wondered briefly was her eyes had decided to show her instead, but the thought was pushed away when her breathing began to pick up. He pressed against her side, eyes wide and scared, as her convulsions became more violent. He leaped nimbly to the side, startled, as she rolled over onto her back.

He sensed the change before it happened—the way the air shifted as her airway clogged up. The chocking came next. A horrible, rasping, wet cough that was nearly silent but somehow pounded in Palepaw's ears with the rapid heartbeat that had settled itself there when Briarleaf's eyes opened. Saliva bubbled at her lips as her body desperately tried to rid itself of it, as it was blocking her airway.

Palepaw was frozen. This was new. This was new and terrible and Palepaw had no idea how to handle it. He danced nervous circles around his mother, assessing the situation. His head was swimming in panic. He didn't know what to do!

The seriousness of the situation set in when Briarleaf went still. Completely still. With a wrenching cough and a violent shudder, her body sagged to the side and went slack. With a mangled cry, Palepaw nudged her urgently with his nose, but to no avail.

Briarleaf was dead.

With a start, Palethorn was pulled back to reality. Robinkit was still suffering through her episode. With a pang that originated through his chest but reverberated throughout his body, leaving him filled with that same empty dread from all those moons ago. Moving as briskly as his numb limbs could carry him, Palethorn padded up to the kit and curled his fluffy body protectively around her nest. Whatever it took. He swore it. He'd help her move past this. He'd save her from these episodes that so closely resembled his mother's own night terrors that had cost her her life. He had to save her—for her sake and his.

 He had to save her—for her sake and his

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* * *

Ah, my poor sad gay son.
He's so lonely.

I don't have time to draw right now so this is what you get. Deal.

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