The Great Prison || Tagged Aug 30, 2020 23:03:53 GMT -6
Post by bombora on Aug 30, 2020 23:03:53 GMT -6
Most of the borderlands were given names to identify them. The Southern Cliffs hosted a multi-generational blood war between the warriors of RedwoodClan and LichenClan. The Sandbar Path was the only connection between the Tribes and the mainland, rarely traversed but observed closely. All that lied between LichenClan and ThistleClan was the tail end of a winding stream that disappeared into a vast lake. A watery prison that they had no name for other than 'The Great Waters'.
Graygaze rested on his haunches at the end of the river. The sun dipped over the horizon - a grand, unknown peninsula filled with trees and strange lights. Water monsters jumped over the waves, the two-legs on top of them eager to return to their dens on that mysterious strip of land. Gulls picked at the washed up remains of whatever scraps washed up on the beach. The oppressive heat of the day seeped its claws into the night. The shining orange water might have been flame if he didn't know any better. Graygaze breathed in the dry air and meditated regardless.
The slothful ThistleClan warrior could only wonder how different the other side could be. Was it just another island with their own clans and tribes? Nobody knew. No cat could ever swim that far. There was something about sitting alone in the dark that made him realize how small his world was. Like the stars, the land beyond the island seemed so close, yet unreachable. He pondered the mystery of their very existence and got the feeling that if more cats did this, the less destruction there would be. He briefly thought of his lost apprentice, Tigerpaw. She was blinded by the life of a warrior, never thinking of anything else. She died with her world so insignificant and small with no cat to even mourn her passing. How many other cats on this island blindly walked towards their own deaths?
Was he doing the same?
Graygaze sensed the presence of another on the opposite side of the small creek. It was the she-cat from the last gathering. The light gleamed off of her vibrant pelt. A combination of grays and reds and creams swelled together like an elegant whirlpool as she encroached upon the yellow sand. She was even prettier during the day, he thought. No doubt she had come to ward him off. He wished he could have stayed a little longer.
"Hey," he offered limply. Graygaze brought his sights back to the land far away, as if he was taking it all in while he had the time. The bovine tom flicked his tail. His mewing was thoughtful and deliberate, not aggressive in the slightest. "Do you ever wonder what you'd have been like if you were born a few tree-lengths north?" Graygaze didn't expect her to answer the question. "They say we should honor our clan and be loyal to the end. As if we have any choice in the matter. What's the other option? Go into the mountains where there's no food and starve to death? Leave?"
Graygaze shook his head dejectedly.
"It's an illusion. Maybe we have these battles just to distract us from the fact that we are all trapped here. Apprentices become warriors, warriors become elders, and the cycle continues. And we do this for some sort of reward after its done. Because we were 'honorable'!" Graygaze spat. "What do you think, Lightwater? Does honor even exist?"
credit to nat of adoxography.