#CrowSquirrel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

malkumtend · 2 years ago

Text

SquirrelCrow Drabble: Hope.

This is a continuation of my SquirrelCrow Drabble “Reaction”. Like before it takes place in a AU where Crowfeather left Windclan and joined Thunderclan to be with Squirrelflight.

...

There were no words.

For moons, that had been Crowfeather’s reply every time a classmate asked him how he was feeling; how he was taking the approaching, unbelievable, inescapable fact that he was going to be a father.

They asked him how he was feeling.

‘Are you excited?’

Crowfeather had to laugh every single time he was asked.

Excited.

Never before had a word sounded so true, but so incomplete.

The truth was it was impossible to describe the downpour of thoughts that flooded him every day. With every moon, day, and swing of his tail, something new knocked on his skull and shook his pelt.

The fear of the cold shadow his father had left on his young pelt; the idea that he too could turn out like that.

The staggering laughter that suddenly overcame him as he watched clanmates play so happily with their kits, and the image of him too taking part in such a privilege.

The sudden, but furious, urge to run straight to the nursery and make sure his mate, who rolled her eyes every single time but never complained, was as secure and strong as she could possibly be.

There was never a day Crowfeather truly felt like anything; this was so much more than that.

Nothing he’d learned as an apprentice or a warrior could prepare him for the undeniable future. For the first moon, he’d suffered through that knowledge. Nothing made Crowfeather angrier then the thought of being taken off his guard.

So many cats told him these feelings were normal, that it was only logical to be nervous or scared, but that he had nothing to worry about. Each of his clanmates had promised him these things. They’d also done everything they could to assure him that if any cat even thought of calling his kits anything over than Thunderclan, they’d make sure to take care of it.

They let him know he was welcome where he was.

That was a nice thought.

But as he noticed the shine of Greenleaf begin to fade, as he felt Leaf-fall’s cold breath over his pelt…

Nice thoughts did nothing to stop the menace of his own mind.

“You worry too much,” Squirrelflight’s tired voice had whispered into his ear the last time she’d found him chewing at his side in panic.

The tom slowly pulled himself up, a familiar prickle on his neck. “I worry just fine.”

“Mhm,” there was a chuckle in the ginger cat’s throat that almost sounded like a purr, “Clearly.”

“Maybe you don’t worry enough!”

“You know, I might actually be very happy about that.”

“Hmph!”

Squirrelflight rose her head from her side, letting out a small yawn. A low grunt escaped her as she pressed herself up, her firm stomach sliding beneath her as she drifted closer to her companion. She took a glance to the nursery entrance, where a bright shimmer of moonlight hazed through the bramble leaves. “Please tell me you’ve at least gotten a little sleep?”

Crowfeather chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’m fine.”

“That isn’t a yes.”

He cringed. “Fine. Yes.”

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“That face you made. The one where you look like you’re about to cough up a hairball.”

Crowfeather’s muzzle creased up. “What are you going on about? I don’t do that!”

“There it is. The one you make when you lie.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Okay,” Squirrelflight gave him a pointed stare, “Have you gotten any sleep tonight?”

Just as he felt his jaws tense and his throat bob up and down, the dark tom turned away with a snort, half out of grumpiness, half out of guilt.

Despite the hot ringing in his ears, Crowfeather heard the quiet breath that fluttered against his ear, “Kitten, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Yeah… ” Crowfeather kept his gaze away, his face already growing hot. He knew where this was going.

“Don’t ‘yeah’ me,” Squirrelflight meowed, her tail swiping at his side, “You can’t just sulk when you know I’m right.” A silent moment later, her tail drapes under her chin as a small grin forms. “Oh, wait. I forgot who I was talking to.”

Crowfeather smiled a little, but not long enough for Squirrelflight to hold in her disappointed sigh.

He hated disappointing her. He was glad he was facing away or else he might just be sick.

The soft stroke of her tail on his back made his shoulders tense. “Crowfeather, come on. It’s going to be fine.”

Crowfeather let out a harsh breath. It’s going to be fine. Another mantra that sounded less certain each time he heard it.

“You’re not helping yourself by getting like this, Crowfeather,” Squirrelflight said, “Staying up all night fretting isn’t going to change anything.”

“I know that,” Crowfeather snapped, struggling to keep his voice level. “You’ve told me a hundred times.”

“Only because you’ve forgotten a thousand times,” Squirrelflight muttered. “Any more and Leafpool might kick you out of here herself.”

Crowfeather grumbled under his breath. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her. Even though him and Leafpool got along well enough, and she’d done everything in her power to speak on Crowfeather’s behalf when he’d first arrived, she was nowhere near as patient as her sister when it came to Crowfeather’s short temper. If it hadn’t been for her litter mate’s soft smile, he wasn’t sure the medicine cat would have ever allowed him to move into the nursery while Squirrelflight was expecting.

“You can go to the Warriors den, if you want. I’ll be fine.”

The grey tom looked up, a flash of worry in his blue eyes. “Do you want me to go?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Am I bothering you?” Crowfeather felt his throat clench, “Have I been keeping you awake? Foxdung, of course I have, I’ll-”

“Crowfeather!” Squirrelflight smothered the tom’s muzzle with her tail. They both took a cautious look to the nursery's other sleeping queens, the molly sighing in relief as she saw they were undisturbed. They’d already given her a polite warning about her mate’s not-so-quiet muttering during the night, any more and Squirrelflight might start hearing Leafpool repeat them. “Just calm down for a moment.”

Crowfeather shook off the tail, his muzzle scrunched up with annoyance.

“If being here is only making you lose sleep, then you probably shouldn’t be here.” Truthfully, when Crowfeather begged Leafpool to let him sleep in the nursery, Squirrelflight couldn’t deny how her heart had swelled. In any other circumstance, she would never turn away the smooth coat she could nestle into each night.

Crowfeather dipped his head, his mouth in a thin line. “I’d lose sleep wherever I was.”

Squirrelflight sighed. “I swear sometimes you’re impossible.”

Crowfeather couldn’t help himself, “Only sometimes? Well, at least that makes me more tolerable than you.”

Though she let out a low growl, Crowfeather saw the edges of her lips curl up. An indignant scoff cracked out with one sly emerald eye, “Oh please, you know I’m amazing!”

He laughed, “I think I’m the only one in the clan who knows differently.”

“Oh hush, rabbit chaser!” She smirked before yawning once again. “It’s far too late for such mouse-dung.”

Crowfeather chuckled once again, then takes another look at Squirrelflight, at the dark ruffles under her eyes, at the way her ears look heavy as they twitch, at how her chest rose and fell; as if struggling to hold itself from the ground. Immediately, all the cheer drained out of the tom, replaced by a weight of remorse.

“I know it’s my own fault, Squirrel. But I can’t help it,” his back fur quivered. Squirrelflight looked at him, her wide eyes dimming. “If anything happened to you-”

“Nothing will.”

“If it did,” he carried on, “To you or the kits.” Softly, the tom’s words faded as his head began to drift to his forepaws. His tail betrayed him as it stiffened to the tip of the frazzled fur. “There would be nothing left.”

“Oh, don’t start with that. I’m not too tired to rake your ears, you know?” Squirrelflight mewed, her voice swift and stern. “You can’t just assume the worst all the time. It’s not mouse-brained to actually hope every now and then.”

Crowfeather tensed, his ears digging against his head.

He’d hoped before.

Feathertail.

Mudclaw.

…Ashfoot.

He wasn’t naive.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I do actually. Because I know I’m right.”

“Do you now?”

“Yeah,” something rubbed against the small of Crowfeather’s back, and he only opened his eyes when he felt a warmth swell against his chest, spreading under his chin, “It got me here, didn’t it?”

The tom exhaled slowly, fighting the urgent need to smile as he felt the gentle nuzzle aimed at his throat. He must have been more obvious than he wished, as Squirrelflight only pursued in her quest with a soft groom across his jawline.

“Come on,” she hummed, tickling his throat, “You know you want to?”

He did want to. Desperately.

But he relented a little longer, a low sound trembling in his throat even as he relaxed against the weight against him.

Squirrelflight let out a disappointed mew. “Honestly Crowfeather, I don’t see what you’re so worried about. Thunderclan hasn’t lost any kits since we left the old territories. You shouldn’t convince yourself that’s going to change just because they’re our kits.”

Thunderclan.

Crowfeather didn’t say anything. Perhaps that was what made Squirrelflight’s ears and whiskers twitch. He felt her shift away to look up at him. There was no reason he should look back at her; no reason that would help him anyway. His ears sank further down, no longer irritable.

Worse than that.

Frightened.

He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

Of course, she did.

“Crowfeather,” the softness in her voice was not unusual, but the consideration, the low murmur that sounds like a shiver in the cold, that was. She saw it. “Is all of this something to do with Thunderclan?”

“No.”

She paused. “Windclan?”

“…”

He felt her head drop down a little.

“Is it common?” There was no worry in her voice, not even the smallest tremble. He turned, astounded when he saw her eyes twinkling patiently in the darkness.

Sympathy. The honest will to listen.

The tom felt his heart clench. He knew that even if he kept his mouth shut, turned away and refused to speak to her until the next morning, she wouldn’t protest. Yes, she’d make sure to give him some kind of punishment in the near future, but she would always respect his choice. They had gotten so far because of their choices, they had nothing but trust in each other.

The low murmur made its way to his throat again, but when it emerged it was nothing but a brittle whine.

He wanted to somehow sink his claws into the thousands of battling words in his mouth until he could pick the easiest answer. The ones that wouldn’t give way to the most terrifying thoughts he had - the ones he knew why he felt.

But if he did that, he knew that he’d somehow find a way to lie to her.

And she doesn’t deserve that.

“Not common,” he sounded like his throat was lined with dust, “Most moons went by without too many losses. But when it came to…” He tried to ignore the sudden cold. “Leaf-Bare or Leaf-Fall? There’s not much protection from the cold in the moors. Of course, we tried to prepare. There’s a whole patrol sent just to gather moss or bird feathers, anything warm. Usually, it kept most of the kits safe. But… when it came to the smallest ones. They’re still so frail that they…”

A paw fell over his, mercifully letting him stop.

Squirrelflight didn’t say anything, but the touch of their paws and the way she let him sink into her pelt was enough for him.

“Every moon?”

“More or less.”

He felt a tail wind over his, and he twisted - terrified that he’d frightened her.

Starclan knew he was aware of how frightening it was. Even in Thunderclan, he still found himself plagued by nightmares that echoed the despaired yowls he’d sometimes heard from the Windclan apprentice den.

Though recently, those nightmares had taken on a new voice.

But here, in flesh and blood, he found her gazing up, a small frown on her soft muzzle, her eyes swimming with tenderness. She leaned up, grooming his cheek delicately.

She was about to speak, he knew. But he couldn’t let her do that. Not yet. Not until she knew everything.

“My littermates.”

He felt Squirrelflight tense, he heard her breath catch.

“There were four of us,” he said, just about forcing the distant, ghostly feeling of three ice-cold pelts into the dark. He allowed himself a grim chuckle. “I remember when you all called me under-sized. I’m trying to imagine your faces if I’d told you I was the largest of my-”

“Okay,” Squirrelflight cut in, her voice soft with mercy. “It’s alright. You don’t need to say anything else.”

That was good. Because Crowfeather didn’t want to say anything else. When he was young he’d never brought it up, did all he could to never even think about it. Not because of any trauma that he suffered, though.

He just always remembered the look on Ashfoot’s face whenever someone accidentally brought it up.

That look, broken and miserable, that no son wanted to see on his mother’s face.

That look that he always saw, now mixed with a furious grief, whenever he crossed her on the border these days.

Crowfeather had promised himself that he’d never regret his choices. He did what he did because he knew he’d be happy. No matter the consequences, no matter the losses, that singular victory - their victory - was enough to make him certain that he would never look back in regret.

If Starclan themselves had dragged him back to the point where he’d made that choice. He knew that he’d do it all - face it all - over again.

He’d choose her every time.

So when he did find himself looking back, what struck him square in the chest was not regret.

But whatever it was.

Crowfeather hated it so much.

And he sat there, waiting for Squirrelflight to scold him for speaking about such things when she was expecting herself, to spite him for bringing Windclan’s curse into Thunderclan, into her.

Then he felt her paw stroke the bottom of his muzzle, leading him back to her forgiving - no - glowing smile. Her white paw felt like cool snow as it traced over his whiskers. After a moment of tension, Crowfeather leaned into the touch, submitting to his mate’s contact.

“I’m sorry, Crowfeather,” he heard her whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

“Kind of a morbid thing to bring up,” Crowfeather muttered cynically, “I never really thought about it before…” He sighed, trying not to look at the present truth of Squirrelflight’s mounded belly. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“It wouldn’t have worried me. The only thing I’ve been worried about is you.”

Crowfeather looked at her quizzically; had she not been listening to him? “But your health-”

“Is something I can handle on my own,” She gave him a playful grin, “You know as well as I do I wouldn’t let myself be cooped up in this nursery unless I knew they were on the way?”

Crowfeather blinked, then he looked away with a betraying chuckle. That was true. Squirrelflight wasn’t exactly secretive about her feelings when she was left out of patrols. She might have hated lazing about doing nothing more than Sandstorm.

A lightness rushed into Crowfeather’s throat as thought back to Squirrelflight demanding dawn patrols, ignoring the tired, exasperated pleas of Firestar as he tried not to blatantly mention his daughter’s swollen stomach.

“I still can’t believe your father allowed you to go on so many hunting patrols?”

Squirrelflight snorted, smugness frazzling over her back fur. “He knows there’s no one more reliable than me, that’s why! Besides the kits wanted to know what patrols were like. Who else could teach them but their mother?”

“Oh, and they told you that did they?” The lightness breezed out of Crowfeather’s laughter, tingling over his face as he began to smile.

“I could feel it.”

“Sure you could.”

Squirrelflight straightened up, exposing her stomach a little, grinning, “You can doubt me as much as you like as soon as you’re the one carrying a litter.”

“Is that what you’re doing? I thought you’d spent too much time at the fresh-kill pile.”

Usually, Crowfeather would have earned a jesting, but still painful swipe across the ear for jokes like that. But to his surprise, Squirrelflight only covered her mouth as she struggled to hold back her laugh.

“Mouse-brain,” she breathed out, her eyes sparkling happily as she looked back up at him.

Crowfeather smiled back at her, before his breath caught once more. How was it so easy to forget everything he knew he should think about after just a moment of her smile? She’d always been like that for him. After Feathertail. After Mudclaw. When everything was so much, ensnaring him like a spider-web cocoon, choking him and daring him to deny that everything was wrong, she came along. Smiling so easily. Walking through the darkness, not trying to swipe it away like a bad dream like so many of his clanmates had done before.

No. She was perfectly content to just sit with him. To let him know that, even if she couldn’t silence the buzzing in his head, she was more than happy to be a warm shoulder all the same.

She’d done it when they were acquaintances at best.

She’d done it as his best friend.

And she did it now.

Because that was who she was.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he didn’t look away this time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d meant to say those words out loud, but he knew he wasn’t going to hide it from her. He wanted to hope, so desperately. But hope was too terrifying for him to trust.

Squirrelflight locked her eyes with his, her mouth softening into a small line. She took a small breath, “Crowfeather, I know who you are. I know what you’re like, and for some reason I’ll never understand I wouldn’t change that for all of Silverpelt. But, just this once, I really just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I’m just-”

“No, I want you to be happy for yourself.”

That took all of the wind out of Crowfeather’s chest. Happy for himself? Why was that important?

“What?”

“Let me ask you a question: what do you think of when you see nothing going wrong? What do you see when you think about everything about our kits going right?”

If everything went right?

The tom stopped, his fur lying flat, and his eyes widening as he realised that the thought had never come to him before. Not truly. Not when there was so much that-

His tail lashed. No. That wasn’t what Squirrelflight had asked him to do. He had to try. He owed her that much.

Crowfeather closed his eyes, unconsciously allowing his chest to gently sway like a river, and tried with all his might to picture what ‘right’ truly looked like.

“I…I want to teach them everything I know. If they’re going to be Warriors I want to help them be even stronger than me.”

“That wouldn’t be too hard,” Crowfeather let a simple groan keep him from opening his eyes, “Anything else? What if any of them want to be a medicine cat?”

“A medicine cat?” Crowfeather’s lips pursed, there was no way he’d be able to help with that. He didn’t know the first thing about herbs!

But, if that was what they wanted.

He smiled, “Well, then they’ll have a good mentor!”

He heard Squirrelflight laugh, “The very best!”

“Might end up being better than Leafpool!”

“Okay, I am so going to tell her you said that!”

“Hey, it’s a compliment!”

“Are you sure she’ll see it that way?”

Crowfeather chuckled, albeit a little uneasily, “Please don’t.”

“All right, then keep thinking.”

Crowfeather obeyed, watching the pictures in his mind’s eye change like leaves, “I want them to have the best mentors they could ever get. Ones that will make them the pride of the clan. No, in all the forest! I want to watch them come with me on patrol one day. I want to teach them hunting-” He snorted, “Actually I might leave that to you!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she teased, “I might still be busy teaching you how to catch sparrows!”

“Well, they’ll be begging you to take them soon enough,” he still didn’t open his eyes when he felt the tail curl over his back, “I’m sure of that.”

“And?”

The dark tom thought. What else was there? Everything in his power he’d mentioned already.

Everything else.

What had he wanted growing-

Two blue eyes opened, flashing gently in the dark.

“I…”, his voice was soft, “I want to know who they want to be. The friends they meet. The cats they fall in love with. Their hobbies, their goals.” Crowfeather turned back to Squirrelflight, meeting her eyes so simply as his voice came out in a clear whisper, “I want them to know I’ll be happy no matter what. I just want to watch it all happen.”

Now it was Squirrelflight’s eyes that closed, as she nodded smoothly. “That’s it,” a small breath of clear, resounding relief blew out of her muzzle as she gazed back up into Crowfeather’s eyes, “I want exactly the same thing.”

The moonlight flickered outside as unseen clouds passed, quivering around the medicine den in a flash of light and dark.

Squirrelflight continued, “I know you’re scared, kitten. Believe me, I am as well,” she looked down at her stomach with a serene glow, “I’ve thought about it just as much as you. But, in the end, we can only do so much. We just have to trust ourselves that it’s enough.”

Crowfeather’s ears flattened down again. Was that really it? “But what if that’s not enough?”

“Do you trust me?”

He didn’t hesitate, “Of course.”

She didn’t hesitate either. A paw wrapped around Crowfeather’s shoulders, beginning to pull him downwards. He was about to turn and protest when his cheek nudged against a soft warmth. Before he could even utter a word he heard a soft heartbeat swell against his ear.

His eyes searched up, finding Squirrelflight looking softly back at him, her head craned up calmly as she lay on her side. He felt the amused purr rumble somewhere in her chest. “ I trust you. I trust the clan, my sister, my parents, and I trust us,” her eyes closed as she flashed a tired, unsure, but loving, toothy smile, “It’s gotten us this far right.”

Crowfeather wasn’t sure what to say, what to do, wanting to believe her so badly - but just so unsure, so frightened. He knew how much thinking could hurt him, how much denying the peace of his heart truly tore him apart. But he was powerless. He couldn’t stop what was real.

Then something pulsed.

Crowfeather grew still. His eyes found his mate’s again and she gave him a wobbly smile. She could feel it too.

He listened, underneath the natural gurgles and beats of Squirrelflight’s body, something rippled and muttered in a quiet, patient space.

It could have been anything, a chill on his back, a quiver of fur, it could have even just been his immature want making him believe in something more.

But Crowfeather believed it was something else.

Breathing, beating, life.

Maybe it was false hope, maybe it was a sinking dream, maybe Crowfeather would be pulled back under the waves until he saw sense in his despair.

But the truth was, he was sick of ignoring how happy he was.

Here, pressed against his mate, listening to where they were, hoping for what lied ahead, this was where he was. And he was happy. Right?

“Right.” He said, listening to his kits unseen movements as a gentle paw brushed against his cheek.

The night had finally descended into a heavy, gentle murmur as Crowfeather let out a long breath of air, smiling against Squirrelflight as he listened to the sound of the future.

...

Hey everybody.

I guess I’m back.

#squirrelflight #crowfeather #squirrelcrow #crowsquirrel #warriors #warrior cats #warrior cats au #warrior cats fic

34 notes · View notes