Happy Birthday BLOSSOM!!

Myrrh will long remember when they are old and grey and curled up with aching bones how she looked at the ceremony. The breath that ripped itself from their lungs as they saw her. Knowing they dressed up to appear worthy of her, and in her beautiful simplicity managed to blow anything they could do away. They admit their pelt burned more than any other fling or any other cat had made them feel. They heard their mother’s memory smile at her too. White long fur curled up in the corner of their eye, and faintly saying “I’m proud of you, Clay.”

But they haven’t given that name much thought in a long time. As names to Myrrh lack what action does, lack what a soul can look like. And despite the cracks that life has given her, hers blinds like the sun. The spots in the side of their vision, as they jokingly purr out to their shadow. Even if Myrrh feels more of a shadow to her story than the other. As her friends and family crowd her with smiles. But there is something else that makes them laugh.

That her eyes are only on them, as theirs are only seeing her.

It’s the same sort of feeling when she finds them. After they ran and teased and lead her towards their dangerous home space. After they received their pelt from Batwing, after they were bonded. When the darkness grows and visuals fade. They allow themselves time, talking and relaxing, speaking of hopes and fears. Tangled legs and heads pressed to one another like they want to become one cat.

It’s that same feeling when she learns she’s pregnant, that rumbling burning thing that makes them cry big waterfall tears. Murmuring to one another that they have so many names. So many names. It’s a full family affair when the kits come, and Myrrh cannot be with their wife as their family becomes more than just Petal and Myrrh. Less two bodies wanting to be one soul, but now two bigger bodies and four smaller ones. Their heart cracks open, wide enough that these beans worm their way into Myrrh’s heart too. Just under the portion that was consumed when Petal’s wit came into their life.

It’s these moments they think on because they aren’t old and grey yet. But close enough to reminisce about the future. But it’s when those little beans grow into apprentices, steps away from warriorhood. Terror fills their lungs, similar to the deep ruddy pelt that sticks to their side. Tails intertwined a fragment of when it was just them. The moment in the dark when they had ached to learn more and more and more.

It’s falling back into the emotions of that time that Myrrh leans their head on the shorter molly’s head. Earning a chuff of laughter as she looks up to them. Love and sadness, terror too. It shakes a roaring purr that they push down and down and down. Their wife is a strong molly, a strong warrior and guard, and a strong queen. Myrrh just worries. So much more than when they were young, impetuous, and looking for threads to keep them alive.

Now their worries flutter about those four, so they remind themselves of one thing. That even if their children grow into themselves; powerful and beautiful and every inch of their mother and zaza. Even if they may have had those darker moments.

Myrrh’s tail flicks but stays intertwined with Petal’s own. The way it feels like it should be.