For @CybusIndustries: (I'm going to update this with the second story when I finish it, I wanted you to know I didn't forget entirely) very short but whoof my writing motivation has been nil --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hornetwish was gone. They’d buried him out in the lorekeepers’ resting ground less than half a moon ago, the scent of rosemary and the dawn mist whispering through the air. Where there were three warm beds nestled among the maze of roots that enclosed the lorekeeper’s den, now there remained two. Lightwish and the elders had buried Hornetwish’s moss nest with him, as was customary; to sleep well required a cozy bed, and the Everlasting Sleep was no different. Still, Lightwish had taken a bit of his mentor’s bedding and tucked it into his own; it was comforting, even as its scent faded. And now he and Dawnpaw were left in the lorekeeper’s den alone; they were hardly a full lorekeeper themself, and she barely more than six moons old. Lightwish shifted onto his side, resting his tail over their paws, and stared up at the roots that blocked out the moon. Dawnpaw seemed to be sleeping quietly in the nest across from him. Good. At least she could get some rest. Lightwish’s shoulders stiffened, the den suddenly seeming half its size, squeezing tighter, choking him. He stood jerkily, breathing hard, and scrambled for the entrance. He emerged into the moonlit camp, shaking out his fur reflexively. They felt their stomach constrict, dread like a stone gathering in the pit of his heart. He /wasn’t ready/. He couldn’t do this, wasn’t able to do this. Already they looked up to them as MirrorClan’s lorekeeper; only a moon ago he’d been lost and scared and small and alone on his Telling Journey. Now? Now – Lightwish sighed. He wasn’t lost now, but he was still scared. He was still alone, despite the breaths of MirrorClan surrounding him. “Lightpaw?” They turned, startled, their fur bushing up, jolting themself to keep their claws sheathed. It was Epochpaw; only Epochpaw. He opened his mouth to correct her, but – she was right, in some strange way. They were still Lightpaw. They weren't ready to /not/ still be Lightpaw. Even if they called him a new name now. “Why’re you out here?” Lightwish (Lightpaw? He wasn’t sure) asked instead. She looked away, muttering that she couldn’t sleep under her breath. “Oh,” they replied, awkward, unsure. Epochpaw exhaled, a long resigned breath, and Lightwish tensed. Had he said something wrong? They /had/ to have – what was it? What had they done wrong this time? He always ruined everything – “Could you… could you help me organize my rocks?” Epochpaw murmured. Lightwish paused, confused, scared. “Your… rocks?” She nodded, her claws flexing repetitively. Lightwish found himself staring at the movement as the earth shifted back and forth, suddenly flicking his ears forward as they realized the small apprentice was still talking to them. “Stonepaw knocked them all over the place,” she whispered. “I thought you might understand, since you’re always putting things neatly in place. I could show you how to organize them tidily.” Epochpaw glanced up at him, seeming to take in his weary face. “It could help you calm down, too,” she added. Lightwish bristled; she was more observant than she looked. Maybe too observant for his comfort. “A-all right,” he answered slowly. “I’ll help.” It had taken them all night, as each stone had to go separately in its own arrangement with its kin, one and two and three and two sets of four, stacked like berries. But Lightwish had to admit it was one of the few times they’d caught themself smiling in… as long as he could remember, really. At last they’d finished, forty-two rocks perfectly lined up in their own tidy rows. A bit of order in the universe. A bit of order in a world so vast and cold and lonely. But maybe he wasn’t so alone after all.
