Rescuing the Red Princess

[mewmehh]

Milkberry's mind had been all a wreck in the aftermath of the freak wildfire; the she-cat would be the last to reveal such a fact to anyone. Her pride wouldn't allow for it, thus she hide it well behind a mask and went about her tasks in silence. Still, her depression was no match for Ruststripe's being.

She knew that her best friend had taken quite a blow to the heart- those with their home were a fair few members of their clan, and of them was one of the ginger she-cat's kits. Hell, Milkberry had helped to bring Hornstrike back before his own father took matters into his own paws. She had been one of the last cats to see him alive.

Her heart broke for Ruststripe and for her kits. They had lost one of their own. Milkberry could understand their sorrow for she, too, had lost everything once. She had seen her own brother's life snuffed out and family scattered before she was old enough to do anything about it. It had been tremendously sad, but life carried on, and the same could happen for the cat she cared enough about to help. She had to be Ruststripe's rock.

Having coaxed Ruststipe out on a walk to get the red cat some air, Milkberry padded softly beside her, flank to flank. It was a small comfort in a world of heartache as they stepped beyond Mistclan's border and off towards the Twolegplace, along the edge of their own territory. The land was scarred and ugly from the brutal blaze, and the route all the way to the Thunder Trails was twisted and stained gray with soot. Milkberry pressed closer to Ruststripe to distract her from any memories. Before too long, they reached a spot where the fire hadn't managed to touch, the grass soft and familiar underfoot. It was enough to bring tears to Milkberry's downcast eyes.

[gingersnapsdacat]

    Ruststripe's heart was numb. Like the fire that destroyed her home, grief had raged through her, ravaging every emotion. But when it was gone, it had left her empty, feeling as if the fire had been some sort of horrible nightmare. But she knew that it was real. Her son was gone. Her home was gone. Amidst all of the burned trees and grass, the thunder trails still managed to stay the same, rustless specks glittering under the sunlight. It would be that place, where she had endured both heartbreak and hope, that would remain untouched by the flames that could consume everything else. 
    The rust-colored she-cat forced herself to look at the burned forest. She had to see it. She wanted to feel something, even if it was sadness. Anything had to be better than this emptiness. Were it not for the constant, grounding presence of the she-cat beside her, Ruststripe was sure she would have wandered for hours, trapped in an attempt to gain back some of what she had lost. Milkberry's touch, and the sudden feeling of soft grass beneath her paws, brought Ruststripe firmly back into the present. 
    "Wow," she whispered, her gaze lingering on the green tendrils. "I guess the fire didn't get everything." 
    It was a simple statement, but one that carried weight.     

[mewmehh]

"It's nice, isn't it?" Milkberry started with a soft smile on her face. "And the territory is healing, albeit slowly. It's a sign of Mothclan's strength, don't you think?" The creamy she-cat pressed her cheek softly to Ruststripe's; a tender gesture that had the warrior's brain reeling in an effort of what to say or do to help improve her friend's mood. It was heart-crushing to see the normally bombastic and lively she-cat so limp and lifeless. Milkberry felt the death of a friend once before and the pain was just as excruciating.

Blue eyes fluttered beneath the evening light as the rosy hues of the sky cascaded into violet and indigo and the stretch of the faint shimmering stars of Silverpelt helped to ease Milkberry's inner turmoil. It was a soothing sight, one she could take comfort in as the red warrior's son was certainly up among them. Settling into the grass, she tucked her paws beneath her chest and tilted her head gently to one side. Looking back up at Ruststripe with an almost pleading expression to her watery eyes, she could only whisper softly, "Please, sit with me?" It was all too emotional for the cat stretched too many ways for her clan during the whole ordeal and for the first time since the fire- perhaps even since Mothstar's death- Milkberry felt she could let down her facade of strength to reveal her own weak, bleeding heart.

[gingersnapsdacat]

    Ruststripe’s gaze shifted alighting on Milkberry’s pleading face. In her eyes, Ruststripe could see the reflections of Silverpelt. For the first time in...she was not sure how long, Ruststripe felt as if she was looking right into Milkberry’s fragile heart. She sank down beside Milkberry, and in that moment, she felt the numbness of her own heart being broken. But not only that. It seemed that there was a second wall of defense, one that she had not even realized she had, that was beginning to crumble. This feeling had been with her for far longer than the death of her son. It had been stuck to her ever since one fateful night on the border between her clan and MistClan. Like a gauze of cobwebs, her pain over Eveningblaze’s rejection had been wrapped around her heart.
    But now, for the first time, it was being peeled away, and the firey light that had once blazed within her was allowed to breathe again. The pain of losing Hornstrike was still there, stinging like a fresh wound, but now, it was not going to stop her.

For the first time in a long while, Ruststripe and Milkberry saw each other.