I know how my clan thinks of me, how they see a monster of murk and mire when they peer into my eyes, or how they hear the cackle of a villain out of a nursery tale when I open my maw… Oh, yes, I know I have those who believe me to be completely different, too. The fools, some would say, who see a pariah, a messiah, a voice from Starclan who will one day lead their clan to greatness… But, if I may, who is truly the fool? The one who sees the bloodied beast, and actively seeks strife with such a monster, if only to prove their heroism and lack of self-preservation? Or, the one who sees the gift from the stars, licked in their flames and noble in every stride, and looks no further, be it from simple nature or from a standpoint of self-preservation, a will to live? Who is truly the fool then?
Ah, we speak of fools, but I have yet to mention her. My apprentice, Pigeonpaw, who tried to fly like Icarus and, like Icarus, flew too close to the sun, and had her wings melted from her body. The puppet, the fallen, the jester… I know what she’s doing. I know she speaks to Ashpaw about me; I know it. I’ve seen how close they are… and, I allow it. Why, you may ask? Let the pigeon assemble a flock, let her lead them in a mad charge for the sun - let them all burn at once, I say. A risky move, some may say, but I scoff at them. Pigeonpaw grows stronger with every day, and I continue to train her to the best of my abilities. One day, she’ll realize that she’s no different from me; and, like me, her fear will consume her. They say that if you cut off a fowl’s head, the body will continue to writhe in agony for approximately two minutes. I’d like to see her flock writhe.
But who, I ask myself, is the biggest fool? To answer that, I humbly look back upon my childhood. I see a nursery with a loving couple, and their single son, playing with the innocence one would expect of a kitten. I see a prodigy who doesn’t know it could all be stripped from him in an instant… I see a child who is no longer connected to me, but by a string of memories that I toss and turn over, and seek to rid myself on; for, if there is no memory of someone… Did they ever truly live?
titsay
stormborns
theartofmadeline
kianamaiart
baratheonpilled
snowghoul
