Papa Can You Hold My Hand? | Swanpaw and Chirpkit

heavenly Father
May the light
Of this flickering candle
Illuminate the night
When your spirit illuminates
My soul

Swanpaw ducked her head, sending a prayer to the heavens. Please. Please let there be peace. Please let Chillstar return safely to her Clan and kits. Please let Raggedstorm not fall. Please let Junipermoon come home to her family. Please let Tumbleflame rise above his memories and fight, please let Dimlight be strengthened by the thought of his new kits…letting out a wavering breath that plumed about her muzzle like a ghostly wreath, she shivered, tucking closer to her charges. Little kits, tucked against her side, she counted their gray pelts, rasping her tongue over each one. Soon they too would be out at battles, wouldn’t they? Soon they too would rise to become apprentices as Swanpaw was. They too would learn to defend, to protect, to attack. She let her throat close for a moment at the thought. Was this what being a Clan cat meant?

To kill? To fight? To destroy?

Even if it was for a good cause, even if it was for the greater good, even if lives were being saved, she could not recall ever feeling more sickened, more frightened. If everything failed, Dreamstar would take over all the Clans…and Swanpaw knew what she would do. She would take as many cats as she could to the twolegs. Dreamstar would be unable to touch them there, of that she was certain. There they could be safe, there they could find peace. She and the other former kittypets could show them the way, help them settle in, they would stay in touch, they would look out for each other. They’d never grow hungry, they’d never be killed in Clan warfare…they…they’d never be free.

For that freedom, was that not what they fought for? Freedom to live how they wanted, where they wanted? With whom they wanted? Was freedom not the core of this lifestyle, guided by rules and by StarClan, and by their own morals…but still free to make choices. To choose to devote themselves to one thing or another, to choose to learn or teach or both…there were all these paths one could take that could not even be fathomed among the Twolegs…to bring these cats who knew only freedom among walls and fences would be to take away the core of their existence, to trap them. No wonder Chillstar had panicked and tried to fight back when the humans made an attempt to rescue them what seemed like ages ago from the fire.

To take them from this land would be to hurt them deeply. Not just a physical pain, but something beyond that.

Papa can you hear me?
Papa can you see me?
Papa can you hear me
In the night
Papa are you near me?
Papa can you hear me?
Papa can you help me not be frightened?

Brown eyes shifted down to her paws, how they flexed. These paws had once torn at feathers, laser dots, carpet and hardwood alike. They had then followed a brother into a world she could never have imagined existed. Sheltered from so many things in her kittypet life, she would never have thought that she would survive a forest fire, be assimilated into a Clan of fighting cats, make a journey across many miles, survive a landslide, and…find a new home.

She had proved herself to be a survivor…then…hadn’t she?

And yet she wondered if it was enough. To survive alone, was that really, fulfilling? In a world such as this, would she not need to be more than that? To be what these others were…to be a fighter? To fight was different than to survive. For to survive often meant merely existing, but these cats had a purpose. These cats had ideals and morals and love that drove them to stand up for what they believed in, to work towards a common goal, to fight even when all hope seemed lost…

White whiskers glistened silver in the moonlight as she watched the kits sleep, these ones, the ones that nestled against Littlebrook, the ones tucked against Pansydew…they were three she-cats illuminated by moonlight who had loved ones in the fray. And although they seemed worried they both also…seemed ready to fight as well. As though had they not had kits to tend to they would be out alongside their loved ones…Swanpaw…could she ever hope for that? To do that?

If she could not fight, what purpose did she have? To simply, stare at the kits day after day? Would she ever be considered a decent Clan member if all she did was nurture the youth? Certainly someone had mentioned to her once upon a time that it wouldn’t be the first time a cat just remained in the nursery to help the queens out, and it did seem appealing but at the same time she knew that that would only cause her to feel more out-casted.

A soft whimper caught her attention and her head swiveled gently to see one of Littlebrook’s kits, the last born, up and moving around. His large paws carried him past her, and she tensed, worry coursing through her. Was he leaving camp? Was he going after those who had departed what seemed like years ago to fight? She knew his father, Dimlight, she knew the tom was surely at the forefront of the battle. With his booming voice and powerful strikes, she could not see him falling…but that did not stop her from worrying.

Oh please
Say to me
You’ll let me be your man
And please
Say to me
You’ll let me hold your hand

He could not sleep.

How could he, when his father was out there, clashing with titans of cats that wanted to hurt kits like him? Lifting his head up to stare at the stars, he wondered if Dimlight was beneath them at this moment, or perhaps the battle was over, and he was on his way home…if only that were true…perhaps if he sat here, the stars would see him, and tell his father that he was waiting. Bowing his head he let his breath plume up like a veil hiding his worried tears, whiskers trembling as he let out a near-silent mew.

“Come home papa…”

It was a plea that was whisked away by the wind, as his half-mask glistened like the snow around him, his medley of spots and striped fluffing out against the cold. An unexpected voice joined his own, and he jolted at the words.

“Come home, everyone…”

Staring up with wide green eyes at the she-cat that hovered over him, Chirpkit let out a nervous breath. He had seen her around, usually with the older kits, and that one loud tom, Warmpaw, right? The two of them, Warmpaw had played with him earlier, and Swanpaw had been keeping an eye on them all…she had a gentle voice, and she was…soft like him. He wondered if she too…wondered if she could be a warrior. He wanted so badly to be a warrior and prove himself as a member of Dimlight and Littlebrook’s bloodline, but he just couldn’t envision ever harming another cat…the mere thought of hunting prey sent shivers through him. To have that power, that was…terrifying.

“I am sorry little one, did I frighten you?” her head lowered to his height as he drew in her scent. She had a comforting smell, and between that and her gentle voice…and the gripping fear for his father, that seemed to be shared by the wetness in her eyes, he turned to press his face against her legs, his darker pelt an odd contrast against her pale fur. But she did not push him away, it seemed that two worried hearts beat in harmony under the stars in that moment, and she leaned down to gently rasp her tongue over his head.

Yeah I’ll
Tell you something
I think you’ll understand
When I
Say that something
I want to hold your hand

“They’ll be back, little one. Do not fear.”

Comforting someone else always served to help Swanpaw work through her own fears, and sitting here with this little silent tom, gazing at the heavens, she felt as though perhaps things WOULD be all right. That perhaps she could find a place. If there was a place for each star in the sky, then surely there was a place for each cat in a Clan. And she had already tried immensely to find her place here, to fit in, but perhaps instead of finding a Clan cat inside herself, she just had to find herself within the Clan?

Whiskers twitching she saw little Chirpkit falling asleep against her leg and lowered her head, taking him by his scruff and carrying him back inside, tucking him against his mother. A soft stirring mew from him as he blinked at her, “W….will….you make sure…Wanderkit….stays safe too?”

A soft smile broke over her maw as she nuzzled his head, “Of course. I will protect you all with a warrior’s courage.” And in that moment she knew she would. Given the fact that she loved each of these kits immensely, despite not having met them all intimately, she knew that should the rogues and traitors make it here…they would face down each queen, and Swanpaw, and the she-cats would fight with a fury unrestrained. For these kits, they were as much a part of them as the freedom of the Clans. And for these kits, Swanpaw could find her place as a warrior.

Watching the patched she-cat shift to sit in front of the entrance, keeping watch, Chirpkit glanced over at Pansydew’s nest and her kits, before counting his siblings. Everyone seemed accounted for, and he gave one last wish upon stardust.

Bring his father home…anyone….anyone who was listening…

Closing his eyes, he burrowed into Littlebrook’s fur and tried to welcome sleep. Its sweet numbness driving away all waking nightmares of his father dying, wounded, never returning. In sleep he could be at Dimlight’s paws, sliding down snow banks time and time again. In sleep his father would always come home.

Papa how I love you
Papa how I need you
Papa how I miss you
Kissing me goodnight