Well you do enough talk
My little hawk, why do you cry?
Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?
Or the Fourth of July?
We're all gonna die
My little hawk, why do you cry?
Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn?
Or the Fourth of July?
We're all gonna die
.
At first, Pebblepaw hadn't wanted to return home. What was there to return to? Everything was dust in the wind. Eventually, all things faded, perhaps it was time he did, too. But the look on Meadowpaw's face had struck something deep inside him, tugging at strings he thought long severed. It was the kind of look that made running feel cruel. And so, with his head bowed and his heart heavy, he conceded. He gave one last farewell to the strange barn cat called Hayloft, a brief, trembling nod that spoke of gratitude and quiet resignation. Perhaps their paths would cross again someday. Or perhaps, like everything else in this world, Hayloft too would wither and fade into memory.
The journey back was wordless. Pebblepaw followed in Meadowpaw's shadow, his paws dragging numbly over the earth, eyes fixed on the movement of her mismatched steps. He didn't look up. Didn't glance behind him. Didn't dare. There was nothing left to find. Alder was gone. So many were gone. Lost to flame, to grief, to time. All was lost, even him. He was wrong. He was broken. He was... Not here. More than once, he thought to tell Meadowpaw she should leave him behind, forget him. She deserved better than the empty shell he'd become. But every time the thought rose, the image of her face stopped him cold. That look, that desperate, hopeful look, was a lifeline he couldn't cut.
He'd rather choke on barbs than add another wound to her heart.
By the time the camp came into view, his chest felt tight. Fear pooled in his throat like ash. Would Nutmegpurr be angry? Would Dustystar? And what had happened here...? The WindClan camp looked ravaged, marked by struggle and ruin. Pebblepaw froze at the entrance, turquoise eyes wide as they swept over the scene. His fur, torn and scarred, felt foreign on his body, a map of mistakes etched into skin. The long gash that crossed his eye burned when he blinked. He was still an apprentice by name, but by moons... He should have been a warrior.
Slowly, he forced his paws to move.
Dustystar's familiar form came into view, and the weight in his chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. He opened his mouth, to explain, to apologize, to say something... But no sound came. What could he possibly say that would make up for everything? For the moon he'd spent chasing ghosts and fairy tales? For believing that love alone could undo death? For being foolish enough to hope? Those had been the dreams of a kit, a child who still believed his parents could l i v e. He wasn't that kit anymore. Pebblepaw lowered his gaze, ears burning with shame. When he finally found his voice, it was small, cracked, and fragile.
" ... Sorry. "
Speech, thoughts/emphasis
OOC: Closed for now! A chat between Dustystar and Pebblepaw firstmost!