Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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It had been a while since they'd first arrived in Summerclan, and Rosethorn could tell Foxpaw was getting more unsettled. He seemed to like it here, among his extended family, but she could sense the question he was dying to ask her.
Are we going back?
The answer would be no. But what explanation could she give? Should she tell him the truth? Should she burden him with the knowledge of what his father had done? But then, what other explanation was there for abandoning the only home he'd known? Rosethorn supposed she'd have to tell him the truth.
She was dreading having to do it. When he asked to go on a walk one evening, she collected her courage and nodded, following him out of camp.
Foxpaw wasn't dumb. Well, maybe he was, but he wasn't too dumb to realize what was going on. They had been in SummerClan for half a moon now, two full weeks, and it looked as if his mother had no intention of changing that. The tom didn't know why. He was blissfully ignorant of the rationale behind this new reality. Something had changed in his mother, but he didn't know what. The truth, his mother must have assumed, would destroy him. Perhaps she was right in this assertation; it would be shocking to know that his father, his mentor, one of the cats he most respected, most loved, was no hero. Every child makes a hero out of their parents, but what happened to the child when they realized that the hero they made their parent out to be was not the cat their parent really was?
They walked in silence for a moment; this was odd, given the fact that Foxpaw had probably only been silent twice in his entire life. He didn't know what to say, though, at least not while they were still so close to SummerClan camp. The warmth of the fall day burned at his back as the distance between the duo and the camp expanded.
They were deep into the territory when Foxpaw suddenly stopped. The young tom looked tired; apparently, the mental gymnastics he'd been going through in the last two weeks had taken a toll on him. Of course, until this moment, the tom had been keen on hiding his exhaustion, his confusion, from his mother. It hadn't necessarily worked, but he had tried anyways. Now, it seemed, he was tired of trying.
"Mama," he asked, the word almost getting stuck in his throat, "what's going on?"
Rosethorn stopped alongside her son, guilt wracking her ribcage as she watched his expression drop, the exhaustion coming through. She moved close to him, wrapping herself around her and pressing her nose to the top of his head. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, but there were already tears in her eyes when she pulled back slightly to let her son breathe.
"I'm so sorry, Foxpaw," she whispered hoarsely. "I don't- I didn't want- I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you like this. I promise I'm only doing this because there's no other option, but honey... we aren't going back to Nightclan. We're staying here."
She couldn't go back. Couldn't stay there and let herself play the fool, couldn't leave her only son behind when she left. If it meant uprooting him, fine, she would shoulder the guilt for that. But it had been his father who'd driven them away.
Foxpaw didn't mean to cry. He wanted to be strong for his mother, the same way that she had been strong for him. Yet, he couldn't resist the ways in which tears sprung at the corners of his eyes. We aren't going back to NightClan . The words were earth-shattering. Of course, there was a part of him that knew this was true, deep-down he had always known SummerClan was his new (old?) home, but hearing the words come out of his mother's mouth felt the same way as getting a swift kick to the gut. It took his breath away, and the young tom couldn't help it when a single tear fell from the corner of his eye. He tried to blink it away, only to find it was replaced with another tear, then another. Soon, they fell freely, and the tom stopped making an effort to cease their flow.
"You have to help me understand," he meowed in a tone that was close to a whisper. "Please, mama. Make me understand." The plead in his voice was evident. If he was to be able to cope with this, he needed to know why. Why were they staying? Where was his father? Why hadn't she told him? He would have said his goodbyes...
Rosethorn closed her eyes, feeling her own tears collecting on the ground beneath her. "I'm sorry," she said again. "You know how much I love you, Foxpaw, I don't want to uproot you from your home. But we had to leave."
The truth. But how to phrase it? "I promised I'd be honest with you always, and I'm going to keep that promise now. This may be hard to hear, love, but the reason we left is because your father went behind my back and cheated on me. He told me that he loved Aspenstar. I couldn't stay in Nightclan, not when my heart was broken. I wanted to come home, but I couldn't leave you behind."
Rosethorn took a deep breath, trying to steady her heartbeat. "So... that's why, Foxpaw. I'm sorry to tell you that about your father. I wasn't expecting to have to break this kind of news to you."
All at once, the world both started to and ceased to make sense.
On one hand, he finally got it. He had always wondered why Phantomfox had been different around Aspenstar. He didn't feel his father's absence the same way his mother did, of course, but he had seen the way in which the leader and guard captain seemed attached at the hip. Foxpaw had assumed it was just because they were friends, but perhaps it all made sense now. Perhaps he finally understood that the long glances between the two, the lazy afternoon nights where he and Phantomfox played with Aspenstar's kits... were those evenings all some sort of perverse game of house? And what about Aspenstar? He had found himself attached to the NightClan leader, not just because she gave good hugs but because of the fact that she had always protected him. What did that protection mean now, under this new light of his father's adultery?
On the other hand, it made no sense at all. No, his father wasn't cruel, he didn't abandon them, he couldn't have! His father was a good father. Foxpaw remembered the nights where Phantomfox would show him the stars and tell him stories about Lightkit and dragons and fairy tale endings - surely, he wouldn't have done that if he loved his son, would he ? If he really loved his son, though, loved his family, would he have forgotten about them? Moved on?
The world felt like it was spinning out of control. He didn't know what to do, how to respond to his mother's words. Deep down, he knew that she wouldn't lie to him. She had promised. But, he wasn't ready to accept her truth, not yet. The shock of the betrayal made the small tom's paws go cold; he couldn't help but take a step back. "No... no..." he meowed, shaking his head wildly. "No, you gotta be mistaken, Mama!" The tears fell down his face faster and faster now, a sob breaking in his chest. "That can't be right, mama! He loved us.... He was supposed to love us... Why would he do that if he loved us?"
Foxpaw's hurt was a knife between her ribs, slicing open the wounds that were still fresh. Rosethorn felt a fresh wave of anger towards her former mate. He hadn't just abandoned her, in the midst of her grief over their deceased children. That was bad enough, enough to leave a lifetime of scarring on her heart- but he also hurt his one living son, fractured the family she had so desperately wanted to build from the ashes of their tragedy.
"I'm sorry," Rosethorn repeated softly, fighting back her tears to prevent herself from breaking down. Her pain was hers to bear- she would not ask her son to shoulder her own grief on top of his own. "Sometimes the cats you love don't follow through on their promises. It's not your fault, and it's not mine, but we both have to deal with the consequences." She stepped forward, resting her chin lightly on the top of his head, turning every one of his wild sobs and shaky breaths into fuel for the fire that raged against Phantomfox in her heart. Because if she didn't feed that fire, didn't turn the pain into hatred, she'd slip back into despondence and the emptiness of lost love.
The hurt he felt that day would be one that lingered for the rest of his life. It was a bitter sting, and to a child, such a bitter sting was haunting. His brain almost couldn't processes it: how? How had he failed to be good enough? His mother's soft words brought him little comfort. It's not your fault. But how couldn't it be? He had to be implicated in it somehow, right? It was the only way things made sense...
He cried for a long time, nestled into his mother. He couldn't help it. He had felt no loss before, and this loss was consuming. The loss of Phantomfox wasn't just the loss of his father, it was the little tom's first reminder of the cruelty of the world. He did not know the pain of loss before this moment, and for a long time, he drown in it.
After a long moment, the tom pulled himself away from his mother. She could see the anger in her eyes. Of course, it wasn't directed at him, he knew that, but it made him pause. Was his anguish hurting Rosethorn? Was it fueling an already burning fire? He couldn't let that be. No, he needed to be strong, not for himself, but for her. He would be strong for her.
He sniffled once more, a final tear running down his cheek, before he blinked a few times. No, he would not cry anymore. He wouldn't do that to her any longer. Instead, the tom offered her an attempt at a heartbroken smile. "Thank you for taking me with you, Mama," he murmured. "We will have the best life here, and Phantomfox is going to be so jealous that he just ... he just can't handle it. We will be happy and show him everything he's missing. We're better off without him, Mama. Just me and you."
"Time will shrink your wounds, my love," she whispered, pressing her nose to his forehead. His cheerful act didn't fool her in the slightest, but she was nothing but grateful for the effort. "Trust me, I know. We can make a good life here. I know it'll be different, but it'll be you and me, and your aunt and uncle and cousins, and all the new friends you're gonna make. We'll go fishing and make flower crowns and nap in the wildflower fields."
"And Foxpaw, it's okay to be sad." Rosethorn pulled back slightly, lowering her head to look him in the eyes. "It's okay to feel the pain, it's okay to work through it on your own timeline. Don't ever feel guilty for your grief. You need to feel the darkest parts of your sorrow before you can start to heal- and I'm not saying you need to feel it right now. Just don't shut yourself off from your pain. I've tried that, and it isn't healthy. Pain demands to be felt, and if you lock it away it'll only fester- like an infection. Take the time to clean your wounds before they rot away your heart."
Perhaps that was what had happened to Phantomfox. She knew that her former mate had never addressed his past fully- he'd shut down while she'd grieved, and she'd come out on the other side of tragedy while he was still mired in all of his hurt. It didn't excuse what he'd done, but better Foxpaw learn this lesson now than turn out like his father.
"It'll be you and me," he repeated, trying to keep the sadness from his gaze. The sadness was flickered with something, though. A determination, a defiance. Phantomfox would not ruin him. "It'll be the best life and we will be happy forever," he murmured.
His ears then flicked at her next words. It's okay to be sad. He found the corners of his lips turning down into a frown. "I don't want to be sad, Mama. He doesn't deserve our sadness," he meowed quietly with the same soft defiance that was in his eyes. His brow furrowed as she continued to speak. Deep down, he knew she was right. If he didn't want his father to kill the light that was in his chest, Foxpaw was going to have to fight it, and to fight it, he was first going to have to feel it. But, even as he fought to keep his eyes dry, he could feel the wave of emotion threatening to crash down around him. "How do we feel it without letting it destroy us?" he then asked quietly, his gaze on the floor.
"Your sadness isn't for him," Rosethorn said softly, her feathery tail resting on his shoulder. "It's for you. It's a natural response, and it isn't anything to be ashamed of or to hide. And Foxpaw, my love, I see how you hide it from me. You don't have to."
"It's easy to feel like the storm is never-ending when you're in it. I felt that way when I lost my parents, when I lost your siblings- and now, even, when I've lost your father. But you can feel the pain, you can submerse yourself in it even, without losing yourself. Without letting the goodness in you be destroyed." Rosethorn pressed her nose to his forehead. "Cling to the good that's still all around you- and if you can't see it, cling to the knowledge that it's there. One day you won't be drowning anymore- your head will be above water, and then you'll be in the shallows, and then you'll stand on dry land again. If you don't believe me, that's fine- just trust that one day you'll find that you can breathe deeply again."
