some epiphany (a srp) feat. wc's Strongcaper

It wasn’t that the grief was overwhelming anymore, crashing over him and threatening to drown him in the waves and phases of it.

Was this how it would be for the rest of his life? Losing someone and letting himself be enveloped in the all consuming sorrow and feeling that his life was unbearable until it slowly faded to a dull ache that rested in his chest and then repeating the cycle again and again and again.

But that day, he hadn’t done anything. And there was an itch underneath his skin, making every move he made more and more uncomfortable. There was no peace in trying to sleep, rather a restlessness that would follow him until he released all the energy into something that felt productive, something that would help.

But the sun was due to rise soon and there would be no point leaving the moss nest at that point and…he had done so much recently. Perhaps it would be fine to go to sleep, no matter if it was restless or not.

…it was not fine…

Dreams are not remembered in specifics, they are vague and float away when you have caught onto the barest detail so I shall not dictate his dreams in detail but rather in a series of questions…are you ready?

How do you stand tall when the waves crash over you?
How do you stay strong when you feel weak?
How do you love when all it brings is grief?
How do you stare in your loved one’s faces, knowing that they must know that you are weak- knowing that they know every single flaw and secretly despise you for it?
How do you move on with life when it keeps pulling you backwards?

He woke up with a start, his fur soaked through with sweat. If he was able to look into his own eyes, he would’ve seen that they were wide and frantic as he looked around himself. It had only been a few moments yet those few moments felt like an eternity.

Since it had only been a few moments, he stood up abruptly and absentmindedly left the cage system without a second thought. He needed the night air, the moonlight reflected back in his purple eyes- he couldn’t think clearly without it.

His sandy brown tail swept the desert floor. The sunset was just appearing by the horizon but it would be fine if he was out for just a few moments, just for a brisk walk. Just to clear his mind of all the questions.

He had learned recently that when his mind brought up questions unprompted that it was better to ignore them and the uneasy emotions they brought up than think and dwell upon them, let them consume himself in the worries.

He wished there was nothing else to think about, nothing else to worry about- wished he was a kit again with a heart bigger than his chest and a recklessness and wildness that had been shoved out of him with age. He wished for the certain hope that everything would be alright. That all of his family and friends could continue to surround him, that death would flit past leaving them untouched.

There was no hope like that for him anymore. It had all disappeared, burnt out. There were flickers of it here and there but they weren’t the roaring flame that it had once been.

His sorrow had drowned out his awareness; he hadn’t watched where he was going, how long he was taking, how far he had gone.

He looked up at the sky, squinting as the sunlight hit his eyes. His slow breathing had turned to panting, his mouth had dried. How hadn’t he noticed that? The sun had risen farther than the simply rising, not quite fully in the center of the sky but…the heat and desert could get to him quickly. Very quickly.

His purple eyes scanned the scene, searching for the tunnel entrance. But it was far, very far- farther than he would have liked to be. But he could make it. That’s what all this practice had been for, running across the dunes back and forth- wearing himself out. There was no trouble here.

(except he’d never trained during the day, dehydrated, already exhausted from a night of training without sleeping in between).

But he was fine, he was named Strongcaper for a reason. And so he began the trek down from the peak of the dune he was on, keeping his eyes on the entrance.

The sun kept rising though and his muscles ached, each step becoming more and more painful. He took another step and flinched as his leg gave out on him for a moment, his face scrunched in confusion as he tried to take a deep breath and take another step when it turned into a hoarse wheeze.

He paused in the trench of the dune, a bit of shadow falling over him, as sweat dripped into his face and obscured his vision.

He laid down, it wasn’t a conscious decision to lie down while the sun was beating down on him- it wasn’t a conscious decision to no longer move towards the goal. It was instinct, to preserve his energy to make sure that he didn’t pass away in the heat even though it didn’t do much good in the long run.

And for a moment, just a single moment, a thought popped into his head. And the idea seemed like pure absolute bliss.

It wasn’t easy to put into words, mind you, it was a flicker of an abstract idea. And the idea was of quite literally nothing. Nothing, no pain, no grief- something akin to death and for that moment, he embraced it fully.

If he could get rid of all of this paranoia and all of his flaws and all of his hurt and all of his pain for the low price of…not existing…it was tempting. More tempting that he would ever admit aloud.

He lifted his head up wearily (he hadn’t realized that it slowly had become harder and harder for him to even open his eyes) and right in front of him he saw a very familiar figure.

He opened his mouth to speak but the name came out in a croak, “Fika?” His tongue rested in his mouth like a weight pressing down on himself. His face scrunched up in concern as thoughts slowly poured into his mind, getting faster and faster as his panic suddenly grew.

Fikafrolic couldn’t be out here, he couldn’t- Ronnie couldn’t lose him, WindClan couldn’t lose Fikafrolic. He was the light of his life, his North Star- the immovable measure by which he planned his entire course on.

He stood up, his legs shaking underneath him but moved forward. His breathing turned more frantic as he couldn’t voice the panic that he was going through-

But when he reached him, Fikafrolic disappeared. It was nothing but a mirage.

Ronnie gritted his teeth together in frustration but yet, he exhaled all of his relief.

But now he was renewed with energy. He had to live at least another day, another day to watch the stars curled up with Fikafrolic- another lifetime to have a family, another moon to stay by his side and plot their courses, fates intertwined.

He couldn’t give up, not now, not even. Not while he still had people to love, to care for, to protect. He couldn’t give up, he couldn’t.

And it was like a rush of adrenaline that fueled him, he crossed over another dune and he was so close- he had to get there. He had to.

He was not going to be another star up in the sky for Fikafrolic to look up at and grieve, not yet- not for many moons. He couldn’t.

Another dune passed by his feet, the wavering mirages became more and more frequent- different figures each time.

Monarchmorphean and Savioreunoia at his left and right respectively, his caretaker the slightest bit ahead of him, Spintobolide wavering in and out changing which side she appeared on. The images of every single person he lost helped him in this journey and he knew it was entirely in his imagination, he knew it and it still gave him strength.

Maybe this was what the real strength was. The love that had grown in between the cracks of misery and grief, love that preserved through the veils of the afterlife.

And he made it- he did it. He crossed the dunes in the hot sun.

He stepped foot into the tunnel, closing his eyes and breathing in the cold air of the cave system. He did it.









…and then everything went black.