#formatting is so wonky on tumblr aaaa

[eparch]

Cat of the Grove

(Also on AO3)

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There is a Cat in the Grove

and it is one of many,

but this is the one that dares

climb all of mother's boughs.

As saplings, we watched it:

1. trot after our Luminary

2. mewl until fed

3. curl up for a nap

...at the mother avatar's feet.

(She does not shoo it.)

There is a Cat in the Grove

that has been there since we awakened.

The firstborn care for it

as they care for us

but they tell no stories

of how it came to the Grove.

So we take upon ourselves

the task of telling travelers—

the humans and the Norn

the Charr and, yes, the Asura too:

This is the firstborn

of all cats in the Grove.

It was here before us,

and it shall be here forever,

for firstborn cannot die

if they do not leave the Grove.

We are met with peculiar stares

and then we flee from our Luminary

who comes to scold us for telling lies.

There is a Cat in the Grove

that does not have a name.

As Wardens, we watch it

play amidst our practice targets

and hone its claws on them

just as we hone arrows and blades,

so we call it warrior.

As Menders, we watch it

seek our ill and our injured

and it lays at their sides

until they are cheered by it,

so we call it healer.

As Gardeners, we watch it

hunt vermin and pests

and keep our fields free

with its frequent patrols,

so we call it defender.

It does not seem to mind

the names we give it

as long as it can play and love and hunt.

There is a Cat in the Grove

who fusses and frets like the Menders

and of late it stays close

to our mother the most.

Few times it's left her boughs

where it nestles on the scars

left behind in the attack.

There is a Cat in the Grove

and one day it yowls and it shrieks

louder than before

until we are all awake,

from the upper chambers to Astorea

we hear it

and then we feel our mother weeping

and then we feel ourselves

the great loss of our brother

the first of firstborn

gone forevermore.

We will hear later

stories from the west,

and face together uncertainty

from the travelers that once filled

our Grove with laughter and cheer.

The humans and the Norn

and the Charr and the Asura—

for now they will give us

distrustful stares.

So we turn to our Luminary,

to the firstborns still here,

as if we were saplings again,

newly awakened.

We mourn together

for brothers and sisters and siblings lost

and for the first of firstborn

and they tell us stories

of his long travels and great deeds

and they tell us stories

of the Cat in the Grove.

Aife tells us he brought it

from far, far away

when it was smaller,

young like our people then,

and he returned with it on his shoulder

showing his brothers and sisters

his newfound companion.

Niamh tells us he played with it

but was never the only one

for Wynne and others too

would craft for it sticks

and let it chase leaves

all around the first gardens

(but not Faolain,

who thought to torment it

foolishly and futilely).

Kahedins tells us he showed it

to mother many times over,

and each time she would say

"I do not dictate the creatures

that emerge from the Dream."

and he would seem aggrieved

until it sought him

to comfort him.

Malomedies tells us he taught it

to seek out Caithe when hungry,

both from frivolity he liked to hide

and from wishing she would

open her heart to it

and then Caithe as thanks

taught it to sneak upon him

when he was engrossed in a book.

There is a Cat in the Grove

watching from the boughs

as the first saplings in years

finally awaken from their pods.

Our new young wake

with both Dream and Nightmare

flitting between their eyes—

but they are here.

They are here

and that is enough. 

And the Cat seems pleased

to have new quarry to chase

and mewl at until fed.

There is a Cat in the Grove

who the travelers like to point at. 

The humans and the Norn

and the Charr and the Asura

all come and tell us

that it is growing quite old,

and yet it still chases

saplings and pests alike,

and it still jumps into our beds

to share in our warmth,

and it still torments our Luminary

with its mewls and big eyes,

and it still naps where it pleases

in mother's boughs,

in mother's chamber,

but lately it's taken

to napping at the feet of the likeness

of the first of firstborn

who treated it as a friend

and then shared with it our home

and with his kindness made it

the Cat of the Grove.

-End-

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just a little poem I've been working on for the past few days. It was actually a shitpost between myself and @icebrooding about Trahearne and cats but I ended up doing a whole thing with it. I guess it's from a collective secondborn/somewhere in that timeframe POV. Thanks for reading.