Mossfoot- the day my father left, she became my one and only companion. And what a companion she was. Kind, patient.. Motherly almost. Beautiful too. She was the only one who saw past my tough guy act. At first I was hesitant, to say the least. Mostly I wanted nothing to do with her. I was stubborn and stupid. I thought I had to tackle all my emotions alone- pen it up and let it fester until I eventually snapped. What a hard-headed fool I was. Still am, really. Not much has changed. She understood that was just a frustrated and upset tom under all that anger. She just wouldn’t let me go. I eventually caved, of course. I’m glad, too. Otherwise I might have been.. unrecognizable to the cat I am now. Maybe I was just.. confused because no one had ever really treated me that way. But I fell in love. Real love too. The kind that makes your heart twist and gives you that light-headed feeling.. And how couldn’t I? She was everything I wasn’t. We became inseparable friends from then on. We got into heaps of trouble, got caught and did it all over again. But there was nothing we couldn’t tackle together.

 

At least, that's what it felt like..

I ran in quickly. Now that I look back on it, way too quickly. But I just knew I couldn't let her get away. I had it set in my mind that she was the one. So I asked her to be my mate. Well.. begged might be a more accurate way of putting it. And she declined. She turned me down flat. It hurt. Real bad. I didn’t know why. I just didn’t understand. It was “Too fast.”, she said. She told me we were still young and dumb an’ didn’t know the first thing about love yet. I don’t know about her, but I sure was dumb and foolish ‘cause I hadn’t a lick of a clue what in the stars she meant. I got mad and did some stupid things. Said some real stupid things too- things I wish I’d never said. Things I still regret. Didn’t mean them, though. Not one bit.

We took some time away from each other after that. It didn’t last long, but after that I wasn’t ever quite.. the same. I guess I felt betrayed. I wasn’t a stranger to betrayal. I must’ve thought it was happening all over again. Sometime the next leaf-bare she ended up crawling on back to me, pregnant with my kits of all things. We decided to make it official then- to give the kids a ‘real’ family. But it was always just.. fake. The love had already disappeared. We were gonna play pretend family. That’s what it seemed like, at least. I didn’t even want kits. I really didn’t like the idea of being responsible for raising a life, especially now- figured I’d just mess it up. The kitting was a complete mess. Come to find out she was sick. Very sick. I don’t even remember what the medicine cat called it, but she was.. well.. she was dying.

 

I think she knew it too.

 

She got real sweet on me during that time, like she wanted to make amends or somethin’. I heard most pregnant queens got nasty when they were expecting but not her. Not my Mossfoot. When it came time to birth the kits it was pretty obvious how it was all going to go down. She’d lose all her strength half-way through, die and the kits along with her. Now I don’t think myself the spiritual type, but by some Starclan-given miracle she managed to hold out till the end, giving life to a lone, but healthy tom-kit. Then she was gone. It was quicker than I imagined it being. No dramatic ending. Just.. one moment she was there and the next she wasn't. It didn’t really sink in that she was really never coming back until later on. In her absence, I decided that I’d name the kit. Rainkit was the name I chose. But that was the last time I had anything to do with him. After that I just kind of vanished from his life. He was handed off to a nursing queen and I continued life as usual. Or.. what was usual before Mossfoot came around. I just didn’t want to be responsible for raising the kid in case he came out like me. I was afraid, so I ran away from him. I knew it was selfish.. I had no excuse.

That was.. until he confronted me one fateful night. Many moons later, when I’d already begun to grey. I hadn't talked to him even once before. And as he faced me all I could see was myself.. staring back at me. Pityingly. I couldn’t run any longer. I had wanted to forget about him and Mossfoot. To forget my sin. To hide from my mistakes and regrets. But he was still here, looking down on me. He told me he was “Sorry”. That he didn’t hate me. That he wished there was something he could do better, to make me proud of him. It was then that I came to the hallowing realization that, in trying to keep him from becoming myself, I had become my father. I had, in my selfishness, perpetuated the endless cycle of negligence, dooming him to the same fate as I... I didn’t say anything. There was nothing I could say that would redeem myself or undo what had already been done. So I watched him walk away.. silently. Now I wish I’d just have gathered the courage and said something instead of being a wordless coward.. anything. Just something to help the kid die not thinking that he’d lived unloved.

That was the last time I saw him. Alive, anyway. A patrol found his body the next morning at the bottom of a ravine. They assured me he must have lost his footing and hit his head in the tumble. I wish I could believe that, even if it were only for a moment. I had lost my son. My only son. And yet I felt so little. Why? I was a father no more than I was a murder. My neglect had killed that boy, I was certain of it. For once in my miserable life I was disgusted with myself. I knew what had to be done. I had a debt to pay. I had to make up for all those wasted moons. That was my purpose now. That was the means of which I’d earn the right to be called his father. And as I looked up to our leader, I felt the weight of my guilt crushing down on me from above. “I volunteer.”