Post by spike on May 13, 2010 20:23:41 GMT -6
We were as one babe
For a moment in time[/i][/color]
“Are you sure?” the tom asked again.
“Do you want me to claw you until I’m not?” was the sarcastic answer. Tom wrinkled his nose and turned away from the fretting other. There was definitely annoyance hanging in the air as one particular cat paced to and fro at a steady, nervous gait. Some of the rogues laughed at him while others just rolled their eyes. They all had different reactions to how he currently performed.
“You look fine,” Lost spoke up. The golden tabby that had been worrying so much just stopped and faced the voice. The black and white tom that lay before him had a soft face, distant almost in the eyes. It was as if he knew completely what he was going through and was even reliving the time that he had. With this in mind, the younger bowed.
“Thanks,” he mewed. “But you seem so calm for this situation.” Lark was probably one of the few left that remembered Lost’s original identity. He knew Lost was once a leader with nine lives to spare for his Clan. Not to mention the fact that he lead the now-great ShadowClan, the cats of the moors overpopulating the territory he had his pawprint on for a time. So it was almost peculiar that the former leader was slightly supportive of Lark. After today, Lark knew he would not be a welcomed cat of their territory, not that he was in the first place.
And it seemed everlasting
That you would always be mine[/i][/color]
“You know, there are not always love interests among our own kind, the rogues of this barn that I speak of,” Lost grumbled. “Borders are painful things when our heart finds the one we need more than we want.”
“Say whatever you want,” a new voice spat with true malice. Lark whirled around to see Phoenix bristling angrily. His claws were digging into the soft wood of the loft floor and his eyes flashed as if a dam had been created to stop any show of tears or emotions. “Love isn’t a safe game. Better off staying where your paws tread.”
“Not all love is dangerous,” Clover, a pretty long-haired tabby-and-white she-cat, spoke up. She was grooming her long curls of fur in the corner and now she was hefting herself to stand and approach the fuming Phoenix. The golden tom just lashed his tail and seemed to glare with fire in his eyes.
Now you want to be free
So I’m letting you fly[/i][/color]
“And you of all beasts say this?” he sneered in return to her simple comment. “Your supposed ‘love’ ran away. Eight tiny kits, fatherless! Look at them, all cuddled together with no father to look down on them. You are alone to raise these kits. No, your kits’ father didn’t want to be here for them.” Clover shrunk back as if she was stung by the hot stinger of a wasp. His comment had been aimed towards her heart and it had hit true and firm.
“That is unjust of you, Phoenix!” a snarling ginger-and-white tom hissed. “Clover doesn’t need you to be giving her such thoughts. She doesn’t need that stress at all!”
“Silence! All of you! October, Phoenix, step down!” a cat cried. The mews of complaint about Phoenix’s wordy attack silenced then as the eyes landed on Lark. The fighting ceased when the former ThunderClan warrior stepped forward to provide Clover with a shoulder to weep on. The she-cat pressed her teary eyes to his finely groomed tabby pelt and just stood there shaking at the rush of emotions invading her.
Cause I know in my heart babe
Our love will never die, no[/i][/color]
“You’ll die for love,” Phoenix hissed. “If that she-cat of yours finally understands, she’ll forget you quickly like a good warrior. A rogue for a mate! They all would leave at the thought. Poor she-cat, forced to look at and even be infatuated with you! The warrior code, broken!” The golden pelt was bristling madly as Phoenix turned and escaped down the loft. The air was silent, tense with anger and uncertainty. But it died down when Lost spoke up again.
“Ignore him,” was all the former leader had said.
“We all know he still hurts from his fling,” Birchpaw yawned. “He hates the idea that she ‘betrayed him,’ or some other mouse-brained idea. Graysong, I think it was. I can’t fully remember the name he used to mutter.”
“Yes, he hurts,” Clover agreed. She turned away sharply and retreated to the hidden nest there eight kits slept silently together, tiny sides rising and falling with the breath of life. Lark didn’t understand why he felt some sort of claw digging into his thoughts. Clover’s kits were new to the world, eyes closed, and voices mere mews for now. Her mate had run away. Why did this make him scared? Scared that he too would end up with no mate at his side?
You’ll always be a part of me
I’m a part of you indefinitely[/i][/color]
As he examined the cats around him, stories spilled forth. Phoenix’s forgotten WindClan love, Frostflower’s deceased mates, Riley’s dead love left in the form of a small kit, Lost’s time of running from his Clan, Birchpaw being the same…
There was no hope here for them. Well, that wasn’t completely true. They had all suffered once. They were on the rebound to love again whether it is to love another or to love themselves.
“Keep up your spirits,” Birchpaw cheered him on. The silver tom tilted his head and blinked at the former warrior with a grin on his face, a rare one at that. “We’re here for you, Lark.”
“Go get her, tiger,” Snowy joked.
Girl, don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
“Thanks,” Lark whispered. “If anything can be said, I’d say thank you. There’s not much else that can be said.” He bowed graciously several times to each cat then turned from the loft just as Phoenix had. He could hear a few meows of good-bye behind him but that as all it took to light up his face.
And with that, he was gone.
The tom was certainly changed after his moons of rogue life. He had really turned back into the Lark that he was when he was younger, the one named Larkstripe. His golden tabby fur glowed with health which hadn’t been true since the moons of ThunderClan life. For a wild cat, he was well-fed looking and strong. Powerful muscles were rippling under his pelt as he jogged along. There was a new energy, a life that had entered him. It probably equaled or bettered that of an apprentice!
And we’ll linger on
Time can’t escape a feeling this strong[/i][/color]
Why wouldn’t he be though? His life had turned around completely. It was all thanks to that pretty cat, Whiteheart. She was the sunrise through his clouded sadness. She was the rainbow on the dreary morn. She was the mouse to his hungered belly. She was-. Well, enough with that. She was great to him. Nightfur was gone and it took him so long to accept it. Then there was Smokepaw, dead, another part of his past. How many days, nights, moons, and seasons had it taken him to forget that Smokepaw and Nightfur were not dead because of his Clan. They were dead because of fate itself. But now Lark had learned that things happen for a reason. He did love Nightfur still. The first love is never forgotten. But he figured they weren’t meant to be. No, that was him and Whiteheart. Or soon, hopefully.
The marshes of ShadowClan were no hassle since Lark visited this place daily. He slid through them as if he had been born a swamp-cat and not a forest-cat. He bent his head swiftly and snapped off a pretty purple flower from a lone bush. She was sure to like this! Confidence for the rogue was beyond the stars of Silver Pelt. He had been granted a new life. Wynter, his puppet-master, had joined RiverClan a moon ago. She tried to keep him around, order him, control him, but he had learned otherwise. With Whiteheart’s help, he was freed from her control. Lark hummed joyfully to remember so.
No way you’re ever gonna shake me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
His speech was clearly smoothed and eloquent in nature. He didn’t sound mad with insanity anymore which was quite the gift in itself. He spoke fluently, colorfully, and with a light of guidance to him. He had himself again. No more “yes, yes, of course, yes.” He didn’t need to stumble. He could speak as formally as he did today without thinking twice. Lark could’ve talked all day since he had been cured. That way of talking with no faults to it was what cleared up his life fully and what made him realize his feelings for that she-cat.
It was mid leaf-fall now and frost had yet to roll into the lands. Trees lost their colorful displays and limbs grew bare for the coming bare-leaf. Plants wilted but a few like that flower bush bloomed hopefully. Their paling leaves seemed to stretch upward, yearning for sunshine but it was of no use on the ground of a marsh. A few herb plants sprouted at the base of the trees and Lark slowed his pace to see many of them cut of their beautiful leaves and some dug up for their roots. He suspected that it was the medicine cat gathering herbs. Best to be cautious, he thought before continuing. He skirted the edge of the territory with caution before finally resting his eyes on the meeting place and the she-cat.
I ain’t gonna cry no
And I won’t beg you to stay[/i][/color]
But there was something about the way she stood there, poised to run. She was on her toes, legs pressed forward in a ready stance. She just didn’t seem open to him as usual. Her beautiful snowy pelt was slightly marked with black splashes and that imperfection made her perfect. Her yellow eyes were watery and tense, shaking as the eye contact was made. Never had he seen this before either. Lark approached and placed his flower at her paws.
“Whiteheart?” he whispered. “You… you are uneasy about something.”
Oh, the way she trembled made his heart break. Her wide eyes portrayed fear and her scent was no different. The way she just did not answer made him fear or regret something. But what was that something? Why was he afraid to know the answer?
“Run,” she ordered hoarsely. “Hurry and run.”
If you’re determined to leave, girl
I will not stand in your way[/i][/color]
“What?” Lark yelped with intense perplexity. “Run? Why? What’s going on?”
“Just do it,” she snarled. Lark was taken aback and the hurt on his face showed that clearly. She seemed to inhale deeply several times just to keep herself from bawling in front of him.
“What has come over you?” he inquired with soft pain.
“We can’t s-see each other anymore,” she choked over the sobs that crashed down on her. “You and I can no longer be visiting each other. It’s too dangerous and I must put m-my Clan first.”
But inevitably you’ll be back again
Cause ya know in your heart babe
Our love will never end, no[/i][/color]
“No,” he stubbornly answered. “No, don’t do this to me. I-I’ve never heard you say such words to me before, Whiteheart. After all you’ve done for me-.”
“Was merely out of the goodness of my heart,” she snapped. By now, tears ran down her beautiful face like a fast pair of rivers in a spring’s gush of power. “I gifted you with sanity and that’s it. Get out of her you… you… rogue.”
Lark gasped and stared incredulously at her. She had just labeled him! She always treated him like a cat and not the runaway he was. Never had she said he was a rogue. An outsider, maybe. But a rogue… what a cruel term. “Rogue?” he murmured. “You’ve never called me as such. Why now?”
“I told you,” she wept thunderously. “I told you!”
“Whiteheart,” the tom whispered, “please, give me one last chance. I came to you today with a… a question.”
You’ll always be a part of me
I’m part of you indefinitely[/i][/color]
She snapped her head up and seemed to have lost all anger. Realization was on her face just like hurt had crossed his. She still cried but these tears went from sorrow to something better. These tears were alright. These tears he felt did not hurt him but rather opened a heart of love towards him. She met Lark’s pale green eyes and sobbed yet again. He had stepped forward and brushed his golden muzzle against her white one. He slid his maw alongside her face until it reached her ear where his warm breath whispered a small amount of words. They tailed into an upward note, hinting at his question, the one he told her beforehand he needed to ask of her. She buried her eyes into his shoulder fur and smiled when she comprehended what was said.
That was all the time she needed to say, “yes.”
Girl, don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
That was also when a wave of warriors flew forth to separate the sweet pair. Their claws and fangs were aimed to tear any hair on that rogue’s body. To answer their war cries, Lark bawled with pain, its intensity filling the air. Three burly warriors had him pinned in no time while their claws worked to scar him in cuts. “You should’ve listened, Whiteheart,” Bluethorn hissed as he appeared beside her suddenly. “You should’ve just let him down, chased him off like a good warrior.”
“I… I couldn’t,” she answered shakily. She could only stare at the massacre happening before her. Lark tried to fight but didn’t have the strength. He just couldn’t. Not with Stormclaw, Blackfeather, and Nightpaw all piled onto his body.
“Obviously,” was Bluethorn’s sarcastic reply. “Blackfeather, Nightpaw, take this carrion to Carrionplace, where he deserves to go.” The by-standing warriors backed off as the mentor and apprentice duo were ordered forward. They seemed to sneer as they took hold of the limp mass that was supposed to be Lark. There was a cough that emitted from him however and they paused to let him hack whatever blood had spilled into his throat.
And we’ll linger on
Time can’t erase a feeling this strong[/i][/color]
“Stop,” he then begged weakly. He coughed again, crimson drops escaping it. The blood dotted the ground outside of the bloody leaves around him. Blackfeather was about to attack yet again but Bluethorn waved his tail to stop her just in case. Lark climbed to his paws and allowed himself to be shaken by more coughing fits. He took a stance of power. He spread his paws to stable his weak body and pulled his chin upward with a bold, daring smirk on his face. He still shook which made him look weaker than normal but that look in his eyes spilled it all. He was not weak at heart. Not yet. Whiteheart stepped forward to caress him but was intercepted by a hissing Nightpaw for doing so.
When Lark finally stood, the extent of the damage done became clear. His left ear was torn and probably would never fully heal. It seemed to be torn halfway up making him look like a ragged loner. Deep bite marks skirted his shoulders and scruff and spiking his fur just like it had been when insanity plagued his mind. His handsome golden tabby pelt was matted with the coppery-goo of his life, the blood that had been spilled. He was leaning to his left side; probably caused by the intense bleeding claw which had been broken down to a nub, far past the quick.
No way, you’re never gonna shake me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
His tail was bent at a strange angle, one not natural to the bones beneath the flesh. There were patches of fur missing from his tail due to the horrible biting that it had suffered. Claw marks scored his belly and flanks and so much fur had been torn there too. His skin was easily seen and the way that the skin was split with wounds made Whiteheart feel ill to her stomach. All of his skin was swollen around the cuts or just flushed with irritation of rolling on the marsh ground. But the worst damage fell on his right eye. Three cuts crossed the eyelid and by the way red liquid was seeping from the swollen flesh and pus was already forming around it, his eye was probably cut too and never going to heal.
He stood with that smirk and a glow to his remaining eye. He looked like a great leader rising from the loss of a life rather than a rogue living from an attack of ShadowClan warriors. No one would’ve believed him to be a lowly loner.
I know that you’ll be back girl
When your days and your nights get a bit colder, oh[/i][/color]
“Gotta say,” he snickered. His voice was dry and scratchy but still filled itself with a sort of cynicism. “Ambushing wasn’t bad. But I’d look at talking before killing, okay?”
“You’re better off dead,” Hawktalon roared while stepping forward with his right paw.
“Hn,” Lark grunted in reply. “Well, I’m not dead so deal with it, kit.”
“Kit?!” a shout followed up. “I am much more your elder, you stupid rogue!”
I know that you’ll be right back
Oh, baby believe me it’s only a matter of time[/i][/color]
“And which one of us is being mature here by not yelling?” Lark sneered. “I’m going, I’m going, okay? You act as if I’m the only issue. Didn’t do this to your precious Foxfur or Paleflower when they went out of your borders for love, did you?”
“How does he-?”
“I am a rogue, not mouse-brained,” he pointed out while interrupting the speaker. The tom tilted his head so his good eye was on Whiteheart. After being silent for so long, having that tiny bit of connection made her heart beat faster and her tears spill again. Lark was so badly wounded… “Until next timem,” he chuckled. “Maybe we’ll… turn a new leaf, hm?”
You’ll always be a part of me
I’m part of you indefinitely[/i][/color]
“Yes, maybe,” she mewed. The rogue smirked but did not acknowledge it any other way. He merely turned and disappeared into the foliage with a limping walk. “A new leaf,” she repeated as she saw the flick of his tail in farewell.
There was life to the lands as New Leaf settled down. There had been deaths and there had been births over the time of Bare Leaf. There had been warriors named and apprentices made. But all of that was background noise. One she-cat lay in her nest and stared at the dried flower that sat at her paws just like the day he had put it there. The leaves that had been on the stem were torn off in that brutal fight against Lark. What was left of its petals were pressed flat, wrinkled until the silky texture was gone.
“Are you going to sit around?” an angry Twistedclaw snarled into the den when he saw her resting quietly and alone. “Come on! Runningfrost says you are on the dusk hunting patrol.”
Girl, don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
Dusk hunting patrol? This was it! She beamed and moved the dull lavender hued flower on top of her nest. A final goodbye to those that would not see.
“Coming, Twistedclaw,” she said cheerily. The tom glared at her as she passed him by with a curl to her tail-tip. Whiteheart had been very down since Leaf Fall; that day they chased off Lark to be precise. Why the sudden life today? Twistedclaw gave a shrug and wandered after her Runningfrost sat next to a somber Swiftpaw at the camp entrance with the deputy’s face stone-cold still. Whiteheart knew she’d be the same if he had been her mentor. Flintclaw, her former apprentice, was holding himself tall and proud. There was also Emberflight but she was scowling at Whiteheart for the wait she had caused.
And we’ll linger on
Time can’t erase a feeling this strong[/i][/color]
“It’s about time,” the deputy snorted. “I thought Deerfur was lazy but you might have him beat at that soon enough.”
“Oh, don’t ruin a good day, Runningfrost,” Flintclaw laughed. “She’s smiling today. I say we live with that.”
“Hn, I guess I should agree,” the icy cat growled. “Let’s just get out of camp. Swiftpaw, let’s move.” It was obvious on the apprentice’s facet hat his mentor’s very voice was like an owl’s screech in his ears. It was probably unbearable. The she-cat actually laughed at the sight which earned her a glare from Twistedclaw and a smile from Flintclaw.
No way you’re never gonne shake me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my… my baby…[/i][/color]
She followed the group and stared around her as if this land was new and not the very place she had been born among. The sparse vegetation was bright with birth of life. The new leaves were a concentrated shade of green which was something she had never took notice of before. Frog songs radiated in the air while they were accompanied by evening crickets. Their eerie tunes made a fine addition to the frogs. Rain had been common these past few days so the mud had a strong grasp on her. Each step was added to by a small slurping sound of the movement of the earth’s hold.
The sun splattered the sky a beautiful orange shade and it steadily was fading into a navy blue equaling to night. And it was about time too! “Can’t you keep up?” Emberflight called from far ahead. Whiteheart blinked as she felt reality speedily hit her hard. Her face stayed lit up as she chased after the younger warrior. It stayed this way until night fully clenched the world.
You’ll always be a part of me (you will always be)
I’m part of you indefinitely[/i][/color]
“You know, I’m shocked you followed through with this,” the tom sighed in a nervous breath. “ShadowClan wouldn’t have let you go so easily had they known even a lick of what we planned.”
“As much as they know, I’m hunting,” the female pointed out. She seemed so cherubic in his eyes, composed as she sat next to the highly scarred tom. She was really much more beautiful and less devilish than one-eyed Lark. But he was as happy as he could’ve been.
Girl, don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
“Yeah, well, we won’t need a Clan,” he boasted at that moment. “I’m sure that we’ll have a fine time on our own. Make our own Clan or something.”
“Just heading north is your plan?” she randomly questioned despite his bragging nonsense. “Are you sure about this, Lark?”
“Whiteheart, we’re not alone,” he murmured. “A group of rogues and loners are joining us. I spent Leaf Bare preparing for this.” The she-cat grinned to remember those words he had said about this moment. The promise of waiting until just the right moment to make their leap…
And we’ll linger on (we will linger on)
Time can’t erase a feeling this strong[/i][/color]
”When New Leaf comes, run with me,” the tom whispered to her as his voice thickened with what she suspected were happy chokes. He paused and gathered his bearings before adding into her ear, “for me. For you. For us. For all cats with love beyond boundaries. Please, let’s run away.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Whiteheart admitted as she was brought back to this world again.
“Same here,” Lark chuckled nervously. His taut muscles showed the same feelings. Not to mention adding his kneading paws that had found a stone that was very much worth scraping around. The two just stared out at the sun in silence minus the tiny click of Lark’s stone on the ground. They watched it as it rose again. The Moonstone was empty besides them and it made a fine outlook post which is one reason Lark had set this as the meeting place. Lark’s green eye glimmered while his scar-touched muzzle spread into a sunny smile. But at once his grin disappeared to be replaced with bewilderment as his eyes searched for the added weight to his shoulder. There she was, leaning on him as if he was a firm resting place and not a movable animal. He lay his chin on her head then and just sighed as time slowed around them.
No way you’re never going to shake me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
“It’s about time we weren’t alone anymore,” he mewed.
You will always be my baby[/i][/color]
Lyrics: Always be My Baby by David Cook
For a moment in time[/i][/color]
“Are you sure?” the tom asked again.
“Do you want me to claw you until I’m not?” was the sarcastic answer. Tom wrinkled his nose and turned away from the fretting other. There was definitely annoyance hanging in the air as one particular cat paced to and fro at a steady, nervous gait. Some of the rogues laughed at him while others just rolled their eyes. They all had different reactions to how he currently performed.
“You look fine,” Lost spoke up. The golden tabby that had been worrying so much just stopped and faced the voice. The black and white tom that lay before him had a soft face, distant almost in the eyes. It was as if he knew completely what he was going through and was even reliving the time that he had. With this in mind, the younger bowed.
“Thanks,” he mewed. “But you seem so calm for this situation.” Lark was probably one of the few left that remembered Lost’s original identity. He knew Lost was once a leader with nine lives to spare for his Clan. Not to mention the fact that he lead the now-great ShadowClan, the cats of the moors overpopulating the territory he had his pawprint on for a time. So it was almost peculiar that the former leader was slightly supportive of Lark. After today, Lark knew he would not be a welcomed cat of their territory, not that he was in the first place.
And it seemed everlasting
That you would always be mine[/i][/color]
“You know, there are not always love interests among our own kind, the rogues of this barn that I speak of,” Lost grumbled. “Borders are painful things when our heart finds the one we need more than we want.”
“Say whatever you want,” a new voice spat with true malice. Lark whirled around to see Phoenix bristling angrily. His claws were digging into the soft wood of the loft floor and his eyes flashed as if a dam had been created to stop any show of tears or emotions. “Love isn’t a safe game. Better off staying where your paws tread.”
“Not all love is dangerous,” Clover, a pretty long-haired tabby-and-white she-cat, spoke up. She was grooming her long curls of fur in the corner and now she was hefting herself to stand and approach the fuming Phoenix. The golden tom just lashed his tail and seemed to glare with fire in his eyes.
Now you want to be free
So I’m letting you fly[/i][/color]
“And you of all beasts say this?” he sneered in return to her simple comment. “Your supposed ‘love’ ran away. Eight tiny kits, fatherless! Look at them, all cuddled together with no father to look down on them. You are alone to raise these kits. No, your kits’ father didn’t want to be here for them.” Clover shrunk back as if she was stung by the hot stinger of a wasp. His comment had been aimed towards her heart and it had hit true and firm.
“That is unjust of you, Phoenix!” a snarling ginger-and-white tom hissed. “Clover doesn’t need you to be giving her such thoughts. She doesn’t need that stress at all!”
“Silence! All of you! October, Phoenix, step down!” a cat cried. The mews of complaint about Phoenix’s wordy attack silenced then as the eyes landed on Lark. The fighting ceased when the former ThunderClan warrior stepped forward to provide Clover with a shoulder to weep on. The she-cat pressed her teary eyes to his finely groomed tabby pelt and just stood there shaking at the rush of emotions invading her.
Cause I know in my heart babe
Our love will never die, no[/i][/color]
“You’ll die for love,” Phoenix hissed. “If that she-cat of yours finally understands, she’ll forget you quickly like a good warrior. A rogue for a mate! They all would leave at the thought. Poor she-cat, forced to look at and even be infatuated with you! The warrior code, broken!” The golden pelt was bristling madly as Phoenix turned and escaped down the loft. The air was silent, tense with anger and uncertainty. But it died down when Lost spoke up again.
“Ignore him,” was all the former leader had said.
“We all know he still hurts from his fling,” Birchpaw yawned. “He hates the idea that she ‘betrayed him,’ or some other mouse-brained idea. Graysong, I think it was. I can’t fully remember the name he used to mutter.”
“Yes, he hurts,” Clover agreed. She turned away sharply and retreated to the hidden nest there eight kits slept silently together, tiny sides rising and falling with the breath of life. Lark didn’t understand why he felt some sort of claw digging into his thoughts. Clover’s kits were new to the world, eyes closed, and voices mere mews for now. Her mate had run away. Why did this make him scared? Scared that he too would end up with no mate at his side?
You’ll always be a part of me
I’m a part of you indefinitely[/i][/color]
As he examined the cats around him, stories spilled forth. Phoenix’s forgotten WindClan love, Frostflower’s deceased mates, Riley’s dead love left in the form of a small kit, Lost’s time of running from his Clan, Birchpaw being the same…
There was no hope here for them. Well, that wasn’t completely true. They had all suffered once. They were on the rebound to love again whether it is to love another or to love themselves.
“Keep up your spirits,” Birchpaw cheered him on. The silver tom tilted his head and blinked at the former warrior with a grin on his face, a rare one at that. “We’re here for you, Lark.”
“Go get her, tiger,” Snowy joked.
Girl, don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
“Thanks,” Lark whispered. “If anything can be said, I’d say thank you. There’s not much else that can be said.” He bowed graciously several times to each cat then turned from the loft just as Phoenix had. He could hear a few meows of good-bye behind him but that as all it took to light up his face.
And with that, he was gone.
The tom was certainly changed after his moons of rogue life. He had really turned back into the Lark that he was when he was younger, the one named Larkstripe. His golden tabby fur glowed with health which hadn’t been true since the moons of ThunderClan life. For a wild cat, he was well-fed looking and strong. Powerful muscles were rippling under his pelt as he jogged along. There was a new energy, a life that had entered him. It probably equaled or bettered that of an apprentice!
And we’ll linger on
Time can’t escape a feeling this strong[/i][/color]
Why wouldn’t he be though? His life had turned around completely. It was all thanks to that pretty cat, Whiteheart. She was the sunrise through his clouded sadness. She was the rainbow on the dreary morn. She was the mouse to his hungered belly. She was-. Well, enough with that. She was great to him. Nightfur was gone and it took him so long to accept it. Then there was Smokepaw, dead, another part of his past. How many days, nights, moons, and seasons had it taken him to forget that Smokepaw and Nightfur were not dead because of his Clan. They were dead because of fate itself. But now Lark had learned that things happen for a reason. He did love Nightfur still. The first love is never forgotten. But he figured they weren’t meant to be. No, that was him and Whiteheart. Or soon, hopefully.
The marshes of ShadowClan were no hassle since Lark visited this place daily. He slid through them as if he had been born a swamp-cat and not a forest-cat. He bent his head swiftly and snapped off a pretty purple flower from a lone bush. She was sure to like this! Confidence for the rogue was beyond the stars of Silver Pelt. He had been granted a new life. Wynter, his puppet-master, had joined RiverClan a moon ago. She tried to keep him around, order him, control him, but he had learned otherwise. With Whiteheart’s help, he was freed from her control. Lark hummed joyfully to remember so.
No way you’re ever gonna shake me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
His speech was clearly smoothed and eloquent in nature. He didn’t sound mad with insanity anymore which was quite the gift in itself. He spoke fluently, colorfully, and with a light of guidance to him. He had himself again. No more “yes, yes, of course, yes.” He didn’t need to stumble. He could speak as formally as he did today without thinking twice. Lark could’ve talked all day since he had been cured. That way of talking with no faults to it was what cleared up his life fully and what made him realize his feelings for that she-cat.
It was mid leaf-fall now and frost had yet to roll into the lands. Trees lost their colorful displays and limbs grew bare for the coming bare-leaf. Plants wilted but a few like that flower bush bloomed hopefully. Their paling leaves seemed to stretch upward, yearning for sunshine but it was of no use on the ground of a marsh. A few herb plants sprouted at the base of the trees and Lark slowed his pace to see many of them cut of their beautiful leaves and some dug up for their roots. He suspected that it was the medicine cat gathering herbs. Best to be cautious, he thought before continuing. He skirted the edge of the territory with caution before finally resting his eyes on the meeting place and the she-cat.
I ain’t gonna cry no
And I won’t beg you to stay[/i][/color]
But there was something about the way she stood there, poised to run. She was on her toes, legs pressed forward in a ready stance. She just didn’t seem open to him as usual. Her beautiful snowy pelt was slightly marked with black splashes and that imperfection made her perfect. Her yellow eyes were watery and tense, shaking as the eye contact was made. Never had he seen this before either. Lark approached and placed his flower at her paws.
“Whiteheart?” he whispered. “You… you are uneasy about something.”
Oh, the way she trembled made his heart break. Her wide eyes portrayed fear and her scent was no different. The way she just did not answer made him fear or regret something. But what was that something? Why was he afraid to know the answer?
“Run,” she ordered hoarsely. “Hurry and run.”
If you’re determined to leave, girl
I will not stand in your way[/i][/color]
“What?” Lark yelped with intense perplexity. “Run? Why? What’s going on?”
“Just do it,” she snarled. Lark was taken aback and the hurt on his face showed that clearly. She seemed to inhale deeply several times just to keep herself from bawling in front of him.
“What has come over you?” he inquired with soft pain.
“We can’t s-see each other anymore,” she choked over the sobs that crashed down on her. “You and I can no longer be visiting each other. It’s too dangerous and I must put m-my Clan first.”
But inevitably you’ll be back again
Cause ya know in your heart babe
Our love will never end, no[/i][/color]
“No,” he stubbornly answered. “No, don’t do this to me. I-I’ve never heard you say such words to me before, Whiteheart. After all you’ve done for me-.”
“Was merely out of the goodness of my heart,” she snapped. By now, tears ran down her beautiful face like a fast pair of rivers in a spring’s gush of power. “I gifted you with sanity and that’s it. Get out of her you… you… rogue.”
Lark gasped and stared incredulously at her. She had just labeled him! She always treated him like a cat and not the runaway he was. Never had she said he was a rogue. An outsider, maybe. But a rogue… what a cruel term. “Rogue?” he murmured. “You’ve never called me as such. Why now?”
“I told you,” she wept thunderously. “I told you!”
“Whiteheart,” the tom whispered, “please, give me one last chance. I came to you today with a… a question.”
You’ll always be a part of me
I’m part of you indefinitely[/i][/color]
She snapped her head up and seemed to have lost all anger. Realization was on her face just like hurt had crossed his. She still cried but these tears went from sorrow to something better. These tears were alright. These tears he felt did not hurt him but rather opened a heart of love towards him. She met Lark’s pale green eyes and sobbed yet again. He had stepped forward and brushed his golden muzzle against her white one. He slid his maw alongside her face until it reached her ear where his warm breath whispered a small amount of words. They tailed into an upward note, hinting at his question, the one he told her beforehand he needed to ask of her. She buried her eyes into his shoulder fur and smiled when she comprehended what was said.
That was all the time she needed to say, “yes.”
Girl, don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
That was also when a wave of warriors flew forth to separate the sweet pair. Their claws and fangs were aimed to tear any hair on that rogue’s body. To answer their war cries, Lark bawled with pain, its intensity filling the air. Three burly warriors had him pinned in no time while their claws worked to scar him in cuts. “You should’ve listened, Whiteheart,” Bluethorn hissed as he appeared beside her suddenly. “You should’ve just let him down, chased him off like a good warrior.”
“I… I couldn’t,” she answered shakily. She could only stare at the massacre happening before her. Lark tried to fight but didn’t have the strength. He just couldn’t. Not with Stormclaw, Blackfeather, and Nightpaw all piled onto his body.
“Obviously,” was Bluethorn’s sarcastic reply. “Blackfeather, Nightpaw, take this carrion to Carrionplace, where he deserves to go.” The by-standing warriors backed off as the mentor and apprentice duo were ordered forward. They seemed to sneer as they took hold of the limp mass that was supposed to be Lark. There was a cough that emitted from him however and they paused to let him hack whatever blood had spilled into his throat.
And we’ll linger on
Time can’t erase a feeling this strong[/i][/color]
“Stop,” he then begged weakly. He coughed again, crimson drops escaping it. The blood dotted the ground outside of the bloody leaves around him. Blackfeather was about to attack yet again but Bluethorn waved his tail to stop her just in case. Lark climbed to his paws and allowed himself to be shaken by more coughing fits. He took a stance of power. He spread his paws to stable his weak body and pulled his chin upward with a bold, daring smirk on his face. He still shook which made him look weaker than normal but that look in his eyes spilled it all. He was not weak at heart. Not yet. Whiteheart stepped forward to caress him but was intercepted by a hissing Nightpaw for doing so.
When Lark finally stood, the extent of the damage done became clear. His left ear was torn and probably would never fully heal. It seemed to be torn halfway up making him look like a ragged loner. Deep bite marks skirted his shoulders and scruff and spiking his fur just like it had been when insanity plagued his mind. His handsome golden tabby pelt was matted with the coppery-goo of his life, the blood that had been spilled. He was leaning to his left side; probably caused by the intense bleeding claw which had been broken down to a nub, far past the quick.
No way, you’re never gonna shake me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
His tail was bent at a strange angle, one not natural to the bones beneath the flesh. There were patches of fur missing from his tail due to the horrible biting that it had suffered. Claw marks scored his belly and flanks and so much fur had been torn there too. His skin was easily seen and the way that the skin was split with wounds made Whiteheart feel ill to her stomach. All of his skin was swollen around the cuts or just flushed with irritation of rolling on the marsh ground. But the worst damage fell on his right eye. Three cuts crossed the eyelid and by the way red liquid was seeping from the swollen flesh and pus was already forming around it, his eye was probably cut too and never going to heal.
He stood with that smirk and a glow to his remaining eye. He looked like a great leader rising from the loss of a life rather than a rogue living from an attack of ShadowClan warriors. No one would’ve believed him to be a lowly loner.
I know that you’ll be back girl
When your days and your nights get a bit colder, oh[/i][/color]
“Gotta say,” he snickered. His voice was dry and scratchy but still filled itself with a sort of cynicism. “Ambushing wasn’t bad. But I’d look at talking before killing, okay?”
“You’re better off dead,” Hawktalon roared while stepping forward with his right paw.
“Hn,” Lark grunted in reply. “Well, I’m not dead so deal with it, kit.”
“Kit?!” a shout followed up. “I am much more your elder, you stupid rogue!”
I know that you’ll be right back
Oh, baby believe me it’s only a matter of time[/i][/color]
“And which one of us is being mature here by not yelling?” Lark sneered. “I’m going, I’m going, okay? You act as if I’m the only issue. Didn’t do this to your precious Foxfur or Paleflower when they went out of your borders for love, did you?”
“How does he-?”
“I am a rogue, not mouse-brained,” he pointed out while interrupting the speaker. The tom tilted his head so his good eye was on Whiteheart. After being silent for so long, having that tiny bit of connection made her heart beat faster and her tears spill again. Lark was so badly wounded… “Until next timem,” he chuckled. “Maybe we’ll… turn a new leaf, hm?”
You’ll always be a part of me
I’m part of you indefinitely[/i][/color]
“Yes, maybe,” she mewed. The rogue smirked but did not acknowledge it any other way. He merely turned and disappeared into the foliage with a limping walk. “A new leaf,” she repeated as she saw the flick of his tail in farewell.
~~~~~
There was life to the lands as New Leaf settled down. There had been deaths and there had been births over the time of Bare Leaf. There had been warriors named and apprentices made. But all of that was background noise. One she-cat lay in her nest and stared at the dried flower that sat at her paws just like the day he had put it there. The leaves that had been on the stem were torn off in that brutal fight against Lark. What was left of its petals were pressed flat, wrinkled until the silky texture was gone.
“Are you going to sit around?” an angry Twistedclaw snarled into the den when he saw her resting quietly and alone. “Come on! Runningfrost says you are on the dusk hunting patrol.”
Girl, don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
Dusk hunting patrol? This was it! She beamed and moved the dull lavender hued flower on top of her nest. A final goodbye to those that would not see.
“Coming, Twistedclaw,” she said cheerily. The tom glared at her as she passed him by with a curl to her tail-tip. Whiteheart had been very down since Leaf Fall; that day they chased off Lark to be precise. Why the sudden life today? Twistedclaw gave a shrug and wandered after her Runningfrost sat next to a somber Swiftpaw at the camp entrance with the deputy’s face stone-cold still. Whiteheart knew she’d be the same if he had been her mentor. Flintclaw, her former apprentice, was holding himself tall and proud. There was also Emberflight but she was scowling at Whiteheart for the wait she had caused.
And we’ll linger on
Time can’t erase a feeling this strong[/i][/color]
“It’s about time,” the deputy snorted. “I thought Deerfur was lazy but you might have him beat at that soon enough.”
“Oh, don’t ruin a good day, Runningfrost,” Flintclaw laughed. “She’s smiling today. I say we live with that.”
“Hn, I guess I should agree,” the icy cat growled. “Let’s just get out of camp. Swiftpaw, let’s move.” It was obvious on the apprentice’s facet hat his mentor’s very voice was like an owl’s screech in his ears. It was probably unbearable. The she-cat actually laughed at the sight which earned her a glare from Twistedclaw and a smile from Flintclaw.
No way you’re never gonne shake me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my… my baby…[/i][/color]
She followed the group and stared around her as if this land was new and not the very place she had been born among. The sparse vegetation was bright with birth of life. The new leaves were a concentrated shade of green which was something she had never took notice of before. Frog songs radiated in the air while they were accompanied by evening crickets. Their eerie tunes made a fine addition to the frogs. Rain had been common these past few days so the mud had a strong grasp on her. Each step was added to by a small slurping sound of the movement of the earth’s hold.
The sun splattered the sky a beautiful orange shade and it steadily was fading into a navy blue equaling to night. And it was about time too! “Can’t you keep up?” Emberflight called from far ahead. Whiteheart blinked as she felt reality speedily hit her hard. Her face stayed lit up as she chased after the younger warrior. It stayed this way until night fully clenched the world.
You’ll always be a part of me (you will always be)
I’m part of you indefinitely[/i][/color]
~~~~~
“You know, I’m shocked you followed through with this,” the tom sighed in a nervous breath. “ShadowClan wouldn’t have let you go so easily had they known even a lick of what we planned.”
“As much as they know, I’m hunting,” the female pointed out. She seemed so cherubic in his eyes, composed as she sat next to the highly scarred tom. She was really much more beautiful and less devilish than one-eyed Lark. But he was as happy as he could’ve been.
Girl, don’t you know you can’t escape me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
“Yeah, well, we won’t need a Clan,” he boasted at that moment. “I’m sure that we’ll have a fine time on our own. Make our own Clan or something.”
“Just heading north is your plan?” she randomly questioned despite his bragging nonsense. “Are you sure about this, Lark?”
“Whiteheart, we’re not alone,” he murmured. “A group of rogues and loners are joining us. I spent Leaf Bare preparing for this.” The she-cat grinned to remember those words he had said about this moment. The promise of waiting until just the right moment to make their leap…
And we’ll linger on (we will linger on)
Time can’t erase a feeling this strong[/i][/color]
”When New Leaf comes, run with me,” the tom whispered to her as his voice thickened with what she suspected were happy chokes. He paused and gathered his bearings before adding into her ear, “for me. For you. For us. For all cats with love beyond boundaries. Please, let’s run away.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Whiteheart admitted as she was brought back to this world again.
“Same here,” Lark chuckled nervously. His taut muscles showed the same feelings. Not to mention adding his kneading paws that had found a stone that was very much worth scraping around. The two just stared out at the sun in silence minus the tiny click of Lark’s stone on the ground. They watched it as it rose again. The Moonstone was empty besides them and it made a fine outlook post which is one reason Lark had set this as the meeting place. Lark’s green eye glimmered while his scar-touched muzzle spread into a sunny smile. But at once his grin disappeared to be replaced with bewilderment as his eyes searched for the added weight to his shoulder. There she was, leaning on him as if he was a firm resting place and not a movable animal. He lay his chin on her head then and just sighed as time slowed around them.
No way you’re never going to shake me
Oh, darling ‘cuz you’ll always be my baby[/i][/color]
“It’s about time we weren’t alone anymore,” he mewed.
You will always be my baby[/i][/color]
Lyrics: Always be My Baby by David Cook