Kestrelfall's Playlist
>> Running After You - Matthew Mole
>> Gone, Gone, Gone - Phillip Phillips
>> Celeste - Erza Vine
Heart pounding painfully, he exhaled and took a step back.
Before him, a rock jutted out from the ground, angular and out of place, jagged and unforgiving as the jaws that had claimed her life. He'd shoved it into the ground, into the freshly upturned dirt, no longer caring when the edges dug into his pawpads, already raw from hours of digging.
Fox-lengths beneath the dirt laid his beloved Orchid, pale and angelic and beautiful even in death. Smokepaw had helped him clean up the blood and the wounds, covering the heavy stench of death with herbs, but he'd insisted on burying her alone.
It was his burden to bear.
Like the rock, gray among the spring green grass, among the shoots pushing their way out of the dirt, among blossoming life - he no longer felt he belonged.
After all, what was life without her?
...
Raucous barking echoed around him, impossibly loud and impossibly near. His heart hammered in his chest as he spun wildly, searching for the source of the sound.
He knew with too much certainty what was going to happen next.
"Orchid? Orchid!" he called frantically. His mate had disappeared, swallowed by the mist. "Orchid!"
His yowls were only answered by the unmistakable growl. Out of the shrouded darkness, a creature leapt - a fox, but with empty, dead eyes. Fear sparked in his chest and he lashed out blindly, feeling his claws tear through fur and flesh, blood splattering his muzzle.
The fox fell to the ground with a thud, rasping for breath, before it shuddered and fell still. Triumphant, Kestrelfall finally glanced at the creature. To his horror, it was... changing.
It was Orchid.
Kestrelfall sucked in a gulping breath, eyes wide, fur bristling. Pale morning sunlight streamed in through the den entrance. The nightmares returned every night, haunting him in his slumber.
It was his fault, after all; he should've fought harder, kept her safe. Instead, she died, only tail-lengths away from him.
Rising to his paws, he shook himself roughly, hoping to chase away his recurring nightmares. A brisk walk through the marsh was usually enough, and he hurried off, taking deep breaths of chilly morning air to clear his head and calm his mind.
He usually followed the main river to the delta before retracing his steps straight back to the camp. Today, however, he felt particularly stressed, his chest tight and legs stiff. Perhaps it would help to take a different path, especially one he hadn't walked with Orchid before - it must be the memories brought back from the stroll that were making him uncomfortable.
Now well into marsh-bloom, the marshland was bright with life. Birdsong filled the air, fueling his limbs with energy, and the sun was warm on his back. For a moment this brought a shred of happiness, the first he'd felt since he lost Orchid. Then, it was chased away by a single thought - She should be here to enjoy it with me.
As he continued along, he suddenly paused - where was he? He must have wandered away from the river, perhaps even slightly outside of DeltaClan territory. Anxiously, he glanced around, wondering which way was back to camp. Back the way he came seemed to be the best choice, and he retraced his steps, now fully alert to his surroundings.
As he passed a tiny stream something caught his eye - something white. When he peered closer, he realized it was a young flower. Not only that, but it was an...
"Orchid," breathed Kestrelfall, mesmerized. The petals were ghostly white and deathly beautiful, swooping gracefully, folding over each other. Little starburst of violet bled into the snow white of each velvety petal, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze.
Orchids. Her namesake, but also her favorite flower.
Instinctively, he reached down to snip the stem with his teeth - but paused, hovering over the young blooms, his whiskers brushing the leaves. A random thought popped into his mind - Would be more useful to dig it up - and he shoved his paws into the dirt beside the stem instead, scooping out the flower with roots intact. The memory of digging Orchid's grave flashed briefly into his mind, and he shoved it away, focusing his gaze on the flower. The random flower he'd decided to take, for whatever reason.
Feeling a bit silly, he held the stem gently in his jaws and set off again, finally noticing the beauty of the marsh around him. Sure, it was marsh-bloom, but now he saw the flowers hiding between reeds, the young shoots shoving through the soil. Golden sunlight touched each blade of grass and each stalk of reed, outlining their features.
Something Orchid had once said came to mind, suddenly and abruptly.
"Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost."
The main river came into sight again and Kestrelflight sighed in relief, picking up the pace in hopes to get to camp in time for patrol. Then he paused - maybe he should leave the flower somewhere safe before going on patrol. He couldn't risk Flarekit and Coralkit finding it and accidentally destroying it.
Automatically, his paws carried him to the gorge. He could see the stone jutting out of the ground just a few tail-lengths from the edge, where the tumbling river cascaded down a cliff. He paused, uncertain - maybe it wasn't the best idea to leave a vulnerable blossom out in the open, either, where the wind could hurl it into the gorge or some rabbit could find its delicious stalk.
Maybe what he needed was somewhere to plant it.
His golden eyes scanned his surroundings. There! In the side of the gorge, a small crevice near the bottom of the waterfall. Excited, he picked his way down the rocks, careful to avoid the rocks slick with water. Spray from the waterfall tickled his paws as he descended, finally reaching the barely noticeable crevice he'd spotted. A fresh breeze drifted through; good. Air circulation. He found himself checking for the key components a young blossom needed to flourish.
Tentatively he stepped in, hearing his pawsteps echo against the stone. It was a small cavern, partially lit by light from outside. The dirt was soft beneath his paws, which he assumed was kept moist by the mist from the waterfall.
In the center of the cavern he scooped out a small dip in the ground, noting the soil here was a bit dry. Leaving the sprout, he padded back out to the gorge and peered among the rocks, poking and stretching until he found his quarry. It was a wide shell, as big as his forepaw, and he dipped it in the river. Holding it ever so carefully to make sure no riverwater splashed out, he stepped up the rocks again, entering the cavern. Tilting his muzzle, he let the drops of water spill onto the dirt, softening it. He repeated this until it was to his liking - perfect for the blossom. Gently, he tucked it into the ground and pawed the dirt back, patting it gently as he'd done with Orchid's grave.
Perfect, he thought, satisfied, setting the shell on the side. Paws and heart light, he bounded back up the rocks and headed back to camp.
...
This became his daily routine. Whenever he was out in the marsh - hunting, patrolling, getting fresh air - he was on the lookout for flowers, anything he could add to his garden. He spent a considerable amount of time there as well, making sure each flower was doing fine and had enough water.
Each time he watched petals greet him, swaying cheerfully in the breeze, each bloom arranged around the orchid in a spiral. The orchid, in the very center of attention, grew tall and strong. Its ghostly white petals were beautiful, and they seemed to draw in all light and glow with it, just as Orchid did. No matter where she was or what she was doing, she was always the brightest to him.
However, just as nothing ever lasts forever, the flowers began to wither as marsh-frost approached. Their leaves shriveled and their beautiful blooms drooped, and he had no choice but to dig them up. He would bury them in the same place they grew, making sure the decomposing plant would become nutrition for next year's blooms. That, apparently, was the way the world went - old life making way for new.
You had to lose something to get something.
Of course, the orchid was always the strongest, as it was the first flower he sought in marsh-bloom. It became a tradition of his. Now, seasons and seasons later, Kestrelfall was repeating the tradition as marsh-frost settled upon the marsh, frosty wings clouding the sky.
As usual, he danced down the rocks of the gorge, slipping into the cave that held his garden. There, in the center of all its former glory, stood an orchid, two angelic blossoms glowing in the light. They were the final survivors of his extravagant garden, all that remained of moons and moons of painstaking work. His heart was light, however, as he bent down and snipped the stems of the orchid. He would bury the rest of the stem later, of course, but there was something to be done first.
The lean stalks of orchid in his jaws, he padded back up the side of the gorge, loping back to Orchid's grave. The stone was there, marking his pain and grief and sorrow those many years ago.
"Flowers for you, my love," he breathed. With infinite delicacy, he rested the orchids before the stone, so careful as if a sudden movement would shatter the world.
In a way, it would. Love and loss are painful, yes, but they are also incredibly fragile.
"Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost," came Orchid's beautiful voice again, soft and gentle.
It now meant something more to him, more than just exploring new territory and finding the orchids that would begin his garden.
It was his garden - something beautiful and pure, begun simply from a time when he was lost and unsure of where to go.
Where flowers bloom, so does hope.
