Warrior Cat Clans 2 (WCC2 aka Classic) is a roleplay site inspired by the Warrior series by Erin Hunter. Whether you are a fan of the books or new to the Warrior cats world, WCC2 offers a diverse environment with over a decade’s worth of lore for you - and your characters - to explore. Join us today and become a part of our ongoing story!
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goldcrest i lied, im posting the thread now, im sorry universe im sorry world
When Doe came back to SummerClan, it was a quiet thing.
There was no great announcement, no declaration — he just slipped in through the camp entrance. He and Sunstar had healed and forgiven, their friendship melting in softer than ever for having been so tattered, for having been so aired to the world with insults and fights, for having been cleansed by fire and cauterised; the invasion of the League, the second he’d survived, had filled him with such a desperate longing for home that it felt like the catalyst he had needed, that sheer terror that had faded in the slow daylight of dawn to clarity that was as much grief as it was peace, that had filled him with the unshakeable knowledge that if he were going to die anywhere, it would be in his home; he and Hywel had parted gently with the promise of the future between them; he had been granted amnesty by Foxstar, on grounds however untrusting, on probation however long. He had taken eagerly, thankfully, whatever he could get — he would have taken anything.
And now he was home.
The walk across the territory was torture — because it was so slow; because it was so uncertain; because every limping step made his chest fill with apprehensive, nauseating nerves. Because he knew there would be no announcement, not right away — it would be up to him, and it would be so simple. So small. So beautifully small. And wasn’t that the greatest terror: opening the door to home, to the butter-yellow kitchen, after such a long time away and smelling all the familiar baking smells like nothing at all had changed. Everything had gone on, everything had continued, and now you had to fit back into that. And unlike last time, that didn’t fill him with resentment — it filled him with quiet anxiety, so unfamiliar to a gentle narcissist like him; because he wanted to be worthy of them. For the first time, he had to earn it all back — and to someone as spoiled as Doe, that was both a joyous challenge — he would succeed with flying colours, everyone would love him ten times more than they ever had before, even the losers of the Clan (perhaps he ought to start by not calling them losers) — and a grievous wound, a wound that would once have been angry but that was now just coweringly nervous. By the time he arrived at camp — through all the familiar landscapes that still felt forbidden to him, like he were just a trespasser; it would take a while for him to feel like he was allowed back here, like he wasn’t just sneaking desperate glimpses of his home, like he could breathe it in and lie on the grass and sleep — his brow was set in a little pinch. The bundle of fluttering fear in his chest grew and grew and grew. He’d kept expecting to be intercepted on the way in, but he wasn’t. And that was both better — because he wouldn’t be treated as a criminal — and worse — because now he had to make the entrance himself. He had no clue how much Foxstar had told them, if anything.
For a long time, he just stood in front of the camp entrance. He could hear chatter inside, could smell the familiar scents, and though at first he was just bewildered and frowning, after a little while, tears pricked at his eyes and he began to cry. Because the smell of honeysuckle and gorse; because the feeling of this familiar, sandy earth under his paws; because the sight of the bows of his old den rising above the den wall — it was all he’d ever wanted. He felt like he were returning as someone so different, like the last time his eyes had fallen on this camp wall they had belonged to another cat. He had been a terrified, angry thing, all his lies falling down around him in desperate heaps. Now, despite his fluttering nerves, despite his fear, he felt at peace. With the League, after all those years of hating them; with his exile; with himself. It was hard, growing, but it was growth all the same. Finally, sniffling and laughing to himself, alone and embarrassed by his own tears outside the camp walls, he wiped them away and pushed himself inside. For a moment there was only a mess of greenery, of sweet flowers dragging along his fur and scattering themselves in it, of the thick sound of leaves rustling, and even though it was such an ordinary, nothing thing that he’d never paid attention to before and that everyone did ten times daily without thinking, now he savoured it. He held it close. Brushing through the camp entrance — it felt in that moment like the whole world.
And then it opened up. And he was home. The sun swallowed up the camp clearing, brushing everything soft and glittering as a fairy garden. So many familiar faces were gone — Sunstar, Rosethorn — and his heart ached in a way he hadn’t been expecting at the emptiness of them in the heart of the Clan; but all the rest were there. Everything else was the same. Nothing had changed. For a moment he just stood there, cheeks reddening with soft shyness, breathing in the sweetness of the air with tiny, slow, nervous breaths like it was somehow a terrible thing for anyone to see his lungs expand, ears pressing back slightly as heads turned towards him. He tried a smile, all his usual fire lost to the gentle, uncertain Doefreckle he became in SummerClan. But he wasn’t here for any of them. Not now. He could talk later — for now he was silent. There was only one cat he wanted to find. Raising his head slightly taller, he looked around the clearing, scanning for the familiar black fur that would look warm brown in the sunlight. His heart began to beat quicker; his nose twitched slightly like a rabbit’s; his breathing changed — he was anxious. He was worried. What if he wasn’t here? What if something had happened?
And then he saw him. The joy that lit his face was indescribable — it was sun itself. Passing everyone else beginning to crowd around with not a single thought, like he was blind to them, he limp-bounded across the clearing, his mouth that had already been open in a smile beginning to widen further in some jubilant exclamation of his name; he wanted to catch him by surprise before he scented or heard him — that always gave Doe away. He had so many things to tell him — he wasn’t going to believe what had happened, with another invasion so close after the first, and he was desperate to crack some boyish joke and deliver the news that he was to be Doe’s guardian, as per Foxstar’s request (and wasn’t that just like pairing the naughty, troublemaking kid with the gentle, dutiful one — he wanted to burst out laughing, though, unless he’d become wonderfully disobedient to authority in his absence, Shaded would no doubt take his role as Doe’s rehabilitator seriously, if only for Doe’s sake); he would talk into the night. And then, with a heavy, uncertain feeling in his chest that scraped at the jubilation and left faint guilt in its wake, he suddenly slowed, his smile fading to a confused little frown that looked hurt — that looked like the sort of hurt that knew it had no right to be hurt. He was by the nursery; even from here, where Shaded hadn’t yet noticed him, he could smell the milk-scent pouring off his fur. He knew he had no right to be jealous, to be hurt, to be possessive — because of course… of course Shaded never had to wait for him. Of course Shaded could… could have his own life, his own love. Of course he wanted him to be happy. Of course his world didn’t revolve around Doe, even though that was utterly a lie and it was that feeling that gave him such stable comfort. They shared something, a deep and unnameable bond that no one else, no other love, would ever change. But… Those were all lies. His selfishness, his self-centredness, had softened, but he still centred his life with the belief that Shaded would always… Always what? Always… There were no words for it. It wasn’t cruel anymore, but it was a loving, grounding, gauze-soft connection between them. And the thought that Shaded had fallen in love while he had been away, that he had had kits with some she-cat, some she-cat that could fill Doe’s place and love him like Doe did — he had no right to have this feeling in his chest, but it was there all the same. It was gentler than all-out jealousy; it wasn’t poisonous. It was just… empty. Loss. Healed pain, pain he had no right to feel, pain that felt like such deep, child-like fear. Like innocence itself. What would he be if the cornerstone of his life moved away from him?
Forcing a small half-smile on his face that was an apology for all the things he hadn’t spoken out loud and an attempt at salvaging the joyousness of this moment he’d imagined for so long and that now felt a little greyer, he opened his mouth and softly greeted, with his brows pushed together and the faintest hint of gentle, sorrowfully hopeful teeth through his smile, “Shaded?”
Shadedsun had nearly grown comfortable in the absence of Doefreckle, despite the quiet longing for his return, the ache of loss, the way he seemed a little more lonely without him, but he was adjusting. The kits had offered a welcomed, but stressful, distraction, and perhaps it was that fact that made him all the more overbearing towards them, staying by their side for as long as he could. He was afraid to let go, to look away, with the fear that they, too, would go, like Doefreckle, like Lilydawn. But, despite the hardships their losses had become, the stress of thinking he may never see them again, he had grown content in his routine, his life, in Summerclan. It was warm, but not unbearably so with the last days of spring. Despite the whispers of the recent disappearance of Sunstar, the uncertainty of Foxstar's new leadership, it was quiet. Peaceful. Shadedsun could smile and mean it, he could think of his losses and not crumble beneath the weight of them. The only thing he worried about were Lilydawn's kits, their safety, but even that had begun to loosen its grip, if only slightly, and despite his fear, they were beginning to breach off towards heir own (safe, protected) adventures. Reluctantly, fearfully, he let them.
It was midday, and the kits had gone down for a nap — despite Peonykit's unwavering energy — after he had promised them that, maybe, he would take them out to collect seashells by the beach, but only if they were good. He slipped out of the nursery and sat down on the patch of grass that had become his sitting nook in the time he'd spent in the den next to it, a comfortable patch of sun-warmed grass. He felt tiny budded flowers beneath his paws, and he tried his best not to squish them. He laid on in the spot that practically formed into his shape, eyes closed contently to block out the rays of the sun, tail tapping the ground rhythmically behind him. It was the type of life he had always wanted after becoming leader all that time ago, quiet and unassuming and loving, and though it missed the key people in his life — Doefreckle, Lilydawn, his mother, his sisters — he decided, then, that perhaps it wasn't so bad, and he could miss them and still move forward, still be happy.
Shaded? His eyes blinked open, his tail stopped half-lifted off the ground, and he looked towards the voice — even if he couldn't see him — soft in tone and quiet in brief sadness. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, mouth open as if he was about to say something, but no words came out. He couldn't mistake that voice for anyone else, and he almost felt like he did when he first came back to life in the field at the cusp of Springclan and Summerclan. It felt like a dream. Like he was about to wake up any second in the darkness of the nursery at midnight and find that Doe had faded away again, just out of reach. Shaded sucked in a breath instead.
"Doefreckle." His words came out as a gasp instead, unsteady and shaky and so, so hopeful, so bittersweet. "I — you — I'm —" he breathed again, words tailing the end of it, "you're here," he laughed tearfully. "You keep just appearing and —" His eyes widened, and he suddenly realized the weight of everything he would have to say, of why he was sitting outside the nursery when he usually kept his distance. He shrunk in on himself.
MY LOVES!!!!!!! MY HEARTS!!!! getting whiplash from switching from the most KIER reply ive made possibly ever and of which im extraordinarily proud though sunglasses emoji
A sheepish little grin spread across Doe’s face, one accompanied by a small rise of his shoulders around his cheeks, like he was almost shy in Shaded’s presence after so many moons. That, and the beauty of the reunion was dampened by all the uncertainty spiralling softly in Doe’s chest, the uncertainty he didn’t want to feel but felt all the same, like a jealousy so quiet and sad. His own name didn’t make him feel the way it had after his exile, the way it had after coming back to life — first the absence of his -star had driven him to bitterly drop any suffix; then, just when he was finally forming a warm peace with his full name, like making up with an old friend after some terrible heartache, it had suddenly become a reminder, once again, of everything he didn’t have, and he’d once again, with a great more deal of anger this time, abandoned the -freckle. In the League, he could just be Doe. Now, hearing Shaded say it, it felt like a reunion not only between them, but between himself and his identity in SummerClan. Between him and his name. Only he could make him feel that.
The little grin stayed on his face as Shaded stammered, his ears growing warm and pink and his eyes prickling with similar tears, overwhelmed and shy. “And you keep being there,” he replied, his voice so unlike it was with any other SummerClan cat, high and boyish and wholly, unabashedly vulnerable. His shoulders were still up around his ears; he gave them a soft little shrug. And then he remembered where they were sitting. He wanted so desperately to go to Shaded, to be lost in his sun-warmed fur and his big, comforting paws and his scent that smelled just as much like home as SummerClan did and always had, even if Doe had been too self-absorbed to realise it, but he didn’t, and part of him — a part he now tried more often to talk himself through as being unreasonable and unfair, to push down, to breathe through — selfishly resented whatever the reason was that was preventing that. If there were kits, he hated them.
But even if something showed on his face, he managed to keep his voice soft, because he knew that was what Shaded could read. Mostly soft. It was still a little strained. Doe was never as wonderful a liar as he thought himself to be. “W—“ He let out a soft, embarrassed little breath of laughter, licking his lips. He tried again, still smiling so faintly around the question, though his brows were pressed together and wounded. “Why are you by the nursery?”
And you keep being there. The words were so simple, so short, and yet they spoke of an undeniable truth, a concept so complex that neither of them had quite figured it out yet — soulmates, as they were, in more ways than one; where Doefreckle went, Shadedsun would be there to meet him and vice versa, even if the universe was hellbent on keeping them away from each other, through death or separation. He could hear the smile in Doe's voice, and he smiled back, soft and tentative and edged with a hysteric, tearful sort of laughter. But there was a delicateness in the air, that of awkward, misunderstood dejection, confusion, heartache, and Shadedsun's smile quickly fell the moment he noticed it. He couldn't see the hurt expression that Doe wore, but he could feel it all the same.
Why are you by the nursery? His heart thrummed in a sudden spike of anxiety. He directed his gaze towards the entrance of the den, as if trying to play it off like a simple mistake, like he hadn't realized he'd strayed too far close to the place and was just about to come up with some excuse or reason to leave.
For a moment, he had no words, staring slack-mouthed, teeth poking out from under his parted lips, mind racing behind glossy eyes. "I. . ." he trailed off, feeling warm, nervous. He didn't want to be the one to say it, even if there was no one else who could, because after the loss of Lilydawn's young littermates and having to not only cope with that after their own deaths, but having to pick up the pieces of their relationship with their daughter, Shadedsun didn't want to break that pretty picture of the peace they had scraped together, no matter how far they were from each other, and he didn't want to burden Doefreckle with the news immediately. But it was unavoidable — most of Shadedsun's time was spent with the kits regardless, and he couldn't see himself changing that. To distance himself from them would be an insult to his daughter, especially after he was unavailable to her after Doe's death when she was a kit. But the truth was unavoidable.
"Kits." He blurted, just to get something out and to stop sitting there soundless. "Lilydawn's." Tail fidgeting from where it laid behind him, flicking from side to side in urgency, Shadedsun realized that he should be more clear. The words could mean anything. "She — a few moons ago, she wanted to talk to me and. . ." he laughed, but this time there was neither humour nor joy in its depths, "she had kits with her. She said there was nowhere else to take them, and she trusted me to give them a good life." Threatened is a word he would have used as well, though lightly. "She didn't say where she was going or why and she just — she just left." His voice broke at that, soft and desperate like he was grasping for an understanding in the dark but nothing was there. He didn't get it, and all at once the weight of it returned.
Shaded’s hesitation seemed to confirm Doe’s worst fears; as he stuttered over I. . ., Doe’s face slowly fell — not to anger, not to anything like that, but to quiet, glum sadness. Loss. The inevitability of what he’d say; he didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t bear to hear it, to hear that he’d been replaced, even if he himself had Hywel; was opening his mouth to cut Shaded off and softly say, with such a warm, sad, gentle smile, it’s okay, it’s alright, you don’t—you don’t have to explain, let’s just go get a bite to eat, yeah?—
Kits. Lilydawn’s. Doefreckle’s mouth didn’t close. “Lilydawn’s?” he echoed, but the soft disbelief of the question was barrelled over as Shaded continued. As he did, Doe, still with that bewildered expression frozen on his face, slowly, numbly sat down, not feeling the ground or his tail as it wrapped around his paws with such deceptive calmness. “Lilydawn had kits?” he echoed just as quietly, eyes drifting away from Shaded. When his voice broke, though, his attention snapped back to him and he stood, limping over quickly to sit close beside him and lean against his thick, sun-warmed fur; at first, when he first touched him after so many moons apart, he felt just as shy, just as awkward as he had earlier — he’d forgotten how to be around him, forgotten his smell, his warmth; forgotten that ease they’d always had. But it only took a few moments for it to flood back over him, so silent, so gentle — not a winter’s flood, but one of spring. It struck Doe, in that moment, and with an amount of fresh, startled guilt that truly showed his deep-rooted self-centredness — because of course he was, this was nothing knew, anyone should have seen this moons and moons ago — that Shaded was always the one left. Always the one being left. And he stayed, he waited — because he was so dependable; because his heart held that patience that Doe had never been able to understand but that he treasured like some fragile bird that ought to have found itself lifeless amid all this cruelty but that still kept singing. He brushed his cheek against Shaded’s shoulder, feeling the familiar way his fur swept and parted against him, letting it tickle his lashes; Doe was hardly consciously aware of it, too deep in his head, too lost in gazing at the sun-dappled earth, but it was comforting, warm, stable, home.
She just left. “Well,” Doe murmured, tilting his head up against Shaded’s fur to smile up at him with such old, warm, resigned tiredness, sadness, even if he couldn’t see him, “it’s her turn, isn’t it? All the rest of us have done it — it was only a matter of time before her rebelliousness made her have a go, too.” It sounded a little callous, to chalk up whatever Lilydawn had clearly been going through to rebelliousness, but Shaded of all people would know he didn’t mean anything like that; Doe felt too much, and so what came out was protectively barbed. And that was comforting in a way, too. Doe smiled again, though he hadn’t really stopped at all. “She’ll come back. We all did that, too. You aren’t part of our family if you don’t run away or disappear or die.” He laughed around his boyish little smile, soft and fragile as winter’s watery sunlight. Shifting closer, he brushed his cheek against his shoulder again, trying to retain his attention. “And if anyone can give them a good life until she does, it’s you.”
For a few seconds, he was silent; and when he spoke again, there was a new thinness, a new wariness, in his voice. “So, you’ve been… raising them?” he asked, and he sounded faintly afraid, reed-thin, trying too hard to be casual but sounding strangled instead. “By yourself?” He meant it in two ways — that Shaded was unthinkably brave, unthinkably strong, to have done that, and that he loved him for it, loved him for a thousand new reasons and in a thousand new ways; and… was he… expected to pick up the reins now? He gave another smile, his brows pushing together and up, and this time he was glad Shaded couldn’t see it; he could feel how desperately afraid it must have looked. “I— it’s just—“ He let out another breathy laugh, glancing down quickly at his paws and kneading them about in a slight, repressed panic, like he couldn’t keep them still but also couldn’t give up this pretence of being completely alright with the situation — his inability to just tell others how he felt would give him a heart attack one day. “I’ve only just come back — I wasn’t expecting to be a—“ The word occurred to him and a fresh wave of looks-obsessed horror washed over him, widening his eyes. “A grandfather! Oh my god, am I a grandfather?” He looked up at Shaded in frantic desperation — because even if he’d had moons to come to terms with it, however unfairly and however quickly, Doe was just hearing about this now. And this was his version of a panic attack — in another world, he would have been flitting, manic and unable to hear any word of reassurance or objection, around the apartment, making hysterical, too-practical lists and babbling about needing cribs and blankets and — oh my god, what do babies eat? Like he’d never raised one — and, really, he barely had. When he got panicked, he had to problem solve. Truly, he didn’t like babies very much at all — but if he was responsible for ones now, he was going to be good, he was going to do it right, he was going to— what did babies DO all day? It had been years since he’d had Lilydawn, and even then he’d been making it up as he’d gone and that had ended terribly — how was he supposed to help Shaded raise—
“How many are there?” he wailed in fresh panic, looking back up at Shaded and dropping any show of being okay, which he’d been failing dismally at anyway. He’d only just gotten home from exile, hadn’t even had a chance to make a nest or see anyone else — and now he was a parent again! Worse than that! A grandparent! What would Hywel say? When the cute, attachment-less guy he was only just coming around to dating was a— “I’m too beautiful to be so old!” he wailed again, and it might have sounded funny or horrible to anyone else, but to Doe it was utterly genuine and utterly despondent, desperate, distressed. He stared up at him, brows pushed together, mouth slightly open and downturned like he was going to burst into overwhelmed tears at any second. It was overdramatic; it was Doe. Everything was always the end of the world, except the things that should have been. In a few minutes, it would be a wonderful thing, a happy, wondrous thing, a chance to be close to Shaded and share this intimacy with him in a way they’d been robbed of before. But right now, the future was just a terrifying, oppressive black cloud swallowing up his freedom.
He made an uneven hum sound, somewhere between an exhale and a groan, and he seemed to fold in on himself. "Yes. I don't with who or why or when — she said she left Winterclan a while ago." He cringed. Perhaps he should have gone to see her, to check on her, and realized she was gone sooner, or maybe he would have been able to convince her to stay. He could have done more. Shadedsun gave a halfhearted shrug. Well, it’s her turn, isn’t it? He supposed it was, but the idea only made him feel sour, because she was gone and he had no idea where she was, if she was dead or alive, if she was alright, and it wasn't fair for any of them — Doefreckle's death hadn't been fair, Shadedsun's death hadn't been fair, Foxkit, Batkit, and Applekit's deaths hadn't been fair, and now Lilydawn was gone to the wind, and that wasn't fair either. It was like a dam broke inside of him, letting loose all the feelings he had pushed aside in favour of focusing on the kits. Above all else, above the fear and the grief, he felt ashamed. He knew Doe was trying to cover it up with a joke, to lighten the mood — she'll come back, as if she were a rebellious teen running away from home. Alive, sure she was, she was strong, but returning? He felt doubtful, and that made him feel ashamed, too. Instead of laughing, he gave a look akin to that of a kicked puppy.
"I have," the fear in his tone was hard to miss. He was scared, because he hardly got to raise Lilydawn and her littermates, and when he should have, he wasn't there. After Doefreckle's death, he could hardly bring himself to speak to them at all. At the time, it had been grief. Now, the slight emotional distance he felt from them was fear.
Oh my god, am I a grandfather? That got a laugh out of Shadedsun, light and still tearful. "They call me that, yeah, and it makes me feel older every day. I have to keep asking if I've got any greys yet," he raised a paw to his muzzle, giving it pat on the side like he could feel for them. He laughed again, moving his other paw to lay supportively on Doe's back, giving a humorous pat at his cry. They were both too young to be old, and though Shadedsun had adopted a sort of retired air, he still felt like his prime, just more relaxed. Of course, with the arrival of the kits, that had changed, and at some points he really did feel old, despite the two years gap due to his death.
At the question, he hesitated. "There's four, two toms, two she-kits. Really it reminds me of. . . them." With the few words, spoken softly, it brought the mood down once more. It reminded him of Foxkit, Batkit, Applekit, and Lilykit. Young, alone, left by their mother without a father in sight, too small and already faced with the harshness of life. "They're napping right now, but that probably won't last long," the laugh he gave this time was devoid of humour, and it felt awkward and out of place. "She said she gave them names — Alliumkit, Marigoldkit, Petuniakit, and Peonykit. They're all like her in some way, I've found."
Yes. I don't know with who or why or when —she said she left Winterclan a while ago. At Shaded’s wince, Doe gave a humourless half-smile, the one that pushed his mouth into a thin line, heavy on one side, and made his cheek dimple. It was always easier for Doefreckle to feel distance than it was for Shaded — or, had been for Shaded. Someone left; he accepted it — Lilydawn was gone; he didn’t mourn her; she’d be back. It was a poor coping mechanism: rather than grieving, he just put that feeling up on a shelf and turned his back on it, utterly able to return to a pretend-happy life while the emotion sat rotting in the background. If he didn’t make a great, doe-eyed show of pretending to feel, it just made him seem cold. Frivolous. Self-centred and detached, like he didn’t care. Anything else made him squirm with misery; if he felt any of it, he'd feel all of it, and then he'd never stop wailing. With all the things he was already working on, all the toxic traits and self-destruction, that one would have to wait. And so, he just nodded along, sympathetic for Shaded’s pain but feeling nothing himself. There was a dull ache in his chest, but he ignored it; it was difficult, anyway, to tell what was new about that and what was just an old, familiar feeling. “She’s an adult, my love,” he replied, and though his voice was compassionate, it was clearly far more to do with Shaded than with Lilydawn, and it was a little stiff, a little uncertainly, heart-flutteringly awkward. But that didn’t make Doe cruel — the very fact that he was reading a script to comfort Shaded showed that he cared, if not about his daughter, then about his soulmate's heart. “She can make her own choices, and she knows where we are.” He ducked his head to look up at Shaded’s eyes, like he could see him; he smiled softly, even if he couldn’t. It turned to a sheepish, loving little half-grin a moment later, his shoulders drawing up slightly. “Where you are, at least,” he laughed shyly.
I have. Doe’s expression faded to sympathy, and this time he really did feel it; his heart squeezed. He frowned, sad and soft, his cheek dimpling again; it was an anxious tick, one that said he was chewing slightly on the inside of his mouth. He drew himself up again, leaning his cheek against Shaded’s side without saying anything; he knew. There was no need for words. He felt it all anyway. Both of them did. If anyone understood what it was like to have been psychologically stunted by death, it was Shaded — he was the only one in the world who’d been through what he had, who knew how it felt. Who knew the distance and the guilt and the longing. He’d be lying if he said that hadn’t interfered with his relationship with Hywel for the longest time. There were a lot of things that had. I have to keep asking if I've got any greys yet. He huffed a laugh, a faint, boyish grin fading onto his face again. He tilted his cheek up against Shaded’s side to look at him. “You look good,” he assured him softly.
As Shaded spoke again, Doe turned his head back down towards the earth, frowning down at it as he listened; he chewed on the inside of his cheek again, chest beginning to thrum with that familiar anxiety, like he was tied down and stifled by commitment, by responsibility. But he pushed through it. He breathed, and he stayed. He’d spent long enough running — he’d just tried to sabotage his place in SummerClan. It was time to let the roots he’d been dreaming of putting down for so long wind round his paws and hold him in place. Really it reminds me of. . . them. He nodded, eager to move past that topic, the least crease of a serious frown still between his brows. But serious on Doefreckle always just looked endearing, like he wasn’t really feeling what he was feeling; it was impossible for even him to know what was natural and what had been curated to make him look cute. More things to unlearn, or maybe he could learn to love even the things about himself he knew were fundamentally fake, for others. When Shaded laughed, he didn’t; he stayed silent, still frowning. Alliumkit, Marigoldkit, Petuniakit, and Peonykit. He drew in a long, quiet breath, like all of this was suddenly feeling very real. His brows raised and then settled. “Pretty names,” he replied at last, too quiet. And then, after a moment, he suddenly looked up at Shaded with a grin. “Not very WinterClan, huh? Are they? Very summer-y.” He gave his head a joyful, triumphant little wobble, still grinning that soft rabbit grin, like he’d had some victory over his daughter.
And with that grin, everything else became more bearable. Everything else fell into place. “No, y’know — enough worrying. Done. Over. We got this.” He looked up at him again, stubbornly, earnestly determined. “We’ll be the best, hottest…” He choked again on the word. “THAT WORD in SummerClan — in the world, my love. I’m here now, and I know I wasn’t of much use last time, but we’ll work it out now. There was a time in Lilydawn’s kithood where we were a true family, where we found our groove and we were happy and I got to use my stern dad voice.” He beamed another grin, leaning back and letting out a laugh. “I’ll get to reprise it, to everyone’s joy. Total DILF — maybe it’ll be hot. Hywel’s gonna get such a surprise — it’s like BAMBAMBAM, I was dead, I’m an exile, I’m a grandfather — hey! I said it!” He beamed, open-mouthed. And then his expression softened again. He reached out and laid his good paw on Shaded’s, looking up at him with such a soft smile, like he truly believed in what he was saying. “We’ll find it again. I can move into the nursery with you, or we can take shifts, but we’ll figure this out. Together. We’ll be okay. I love you. I always will. Deep breath, yeah?” He smiled.
Then, drawing in a deep, slightly shuddering breath for himself, like he was gathering every scrap of his bravery, he half turned towards the nursery behind them. “Guess I should meet them, huh?” He glanced back up at Shaded; his voice was just as reluctant as his expression, like he was hoping Shaded would say he could put it off. But he had to. He… wanted to. Or he would. He would. He’d had enough of running from the things he was too scared to let himself love. He was ready to make room in his heart.
