I'll Carry The Weight

The clouds of the night before’s thunderstorm still rolled in the distance, taking away the crime it had committed. Offerings had been made to Starclan to appease them, to prevent them from carrying out their violent delights. Bearheart had refused to go. He had carried his friend to this final place, and now he sat and watched as the birds picked him apart.

Not as many birds gathered as they usually would, and the large warrior silently wondered if it was the weather… or if it was them not being used to these meals being delivered cooked and burnt.

There was nothing in Bear left to be ashamed of his outburst earlier, nothing in his heart that provided shame for his actions. Instead, he reflected on his time with the tom, as he watched the carnage of his body.

“I promised you I would never leave you alone, and yet you ran on ahead of me, leaving me to watch you excel in everything you did while I sat in your dust.”

Bearheart pictured them as apprentices and wondered if it had always been one-sided.

“I don’t want to leave you alone. I don’t want to watch you rejoin the cycle. I don’t want to smell your burnt flesh anymore. I don’t want to continue mourning my mistakes. I wanted to move past you for so long, but I close my eyes and think of happiness and I see us as kits, shunned and alone. But we were alone together.”

Now that the tom was dead, Bear had no reservations about admitting his feelings for the tom.

“You knew, didn’t you? That these awful visions I have were never Starclan. But you let me believe because they were the only thing I could believe in. Even if I pushed you away, I had Starclan.”

It had gone well into the next day, the sun peaking high in the sky, warming Bearheart’s pelt as the last bird stopped eating, flying to rest on a nearby rock, stomach full. Heron was nothing but scraps now, and despite the terrifying view, the large warrior was able to breathe easier now.

“I will carry the weight of living, and you will carry on into the stars. And someday, in order to see you again…”

He moved for the first time in what felt like forever, however, he moved into a crouch, sneaking up on the bird who had chosen the wrong rock to drop onto. They had been so eager to tell him that Heron was just joining the cycle, that it wasn’t that big of a deal. With a swift snap of his jaws, the bird stopped struggling. He dropped it to his paws, turning back to speak to Heron for one last time.

“...I suppose I must become something worthy of Starclan smiting down.”

Bearheart picked up the bird and trotted to the camp, intent on the elder’s den.