Saying goodbye is so hard to do | STEPPING DOWN

Coalwhisker is no fool, and he refuses to be mistaken for one.

No, no, he is no fool. A coward; he runs, from his past, from his family, but Coalwhisker is no fool. Solarstar says Coalwhisker’s name, certain as he is sick, and the spike of fear Coalwhisker feels is sharp enough to embolden him into acting, his over-large ears alternating between standing at attention and folding against his neck. Eyes are on him-- wondering if he is unworthy? Celebrating him?

“May StarClan grant me a life as healthy and as prosperous as yours,” He sneers, and what a great responsibility has been dropped at his paws with the same fanfare of a gift from a coquettish clanmate.

A wiser tom would turn on his heels and march off, leave ThunderClan to figure out what they were to do during these colder moons. StarClan, if there well and truly is such a thing, knows that Coalwhisker has never let sentiment compromise his choices. Like the coward he is, Coalwhisker could turn tail and run, somewhere warmer, somewhere safer. For a time, for a lifetime, he could forget about the moons this eclectic group has housed him.

In his older moons, maybe Coalwhisker will look back on the time he spent in an ancestor-worshipping cult, sometimes with fondness and sometimes with anger. He would recall how he went by Coalwhisker, and he would tell some annoying little kits about the time he narrowly avoided being locked into a position of leadership in this winter-barren place.

Curse it all, maybe Coalwhisker is a sentimental fool, because he sees a frustrating kit in his imagined future and he knows he cannot possibly leave, knowing a certain clinging thing will try and follow. Despite the perceived ills of this clan, it is safe as long as it is united. Coalwhisker may need to travel far in order to find something else like this, and even then, he could walk for the rest of his life and never find another like it.

Coalwhisker marches to the Highrock and lands atop in a graceful leap. So this is where he stands now, this is who he is now. The hammer of his heart is strong enough that he feels his pulse in the pads of his paws. With time, the snow will thaw and Coalwhisker will be left wading through mud until Greenleaf can once more harden the ground. Life’s predictable cycle will not, has never, stopped for Coalwhisker.

He is always the one left scrambling to catch up.

“Any delay and I’ll be soon to change my mind,” Coalwhisker announces, the yellow of his eyes never leaving Solarstar. “We’ll leave tomorrow. Before dawn.”

And with that, Coalwhisker slinks from the Highrock in a fluid motion, the points of his shoulder blades visible as he marches, resolute, falsely so, to the warriors’ den.