Unbelievers ★ Cloud x Bright

alright, nibby is procrastinating on her actual fanfiction in favor of a short cloud x bright story and art. enjoy!

'''PLEASE DO NOT USE FANFICTION, IDEAS, OR ART WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION HERE OR ON WARRIORS AMINO. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.'''

“I’d really rather be back at the camp, Cloudtail.” Brightheart paused in her step, the soft grasses springing back and furling around her body. In the long stalks of the meadow her small frame was mostly obscured. She halted, waiting for Cloudtail to continue as though there was a path.

“Aw, come on.” He tossed his head back, his white mane rolling along his neck. He used to fluff up his fur with Brightheart but it was clear she only got more and more self-conscious. “I have to be romantic. It’s in my blood.”

There were many things Cloudtail wished he could bring to the Clans: the soft beds, for one, instead of the bristly pine nests. He wished he could taste the treats the Twolegs fed to his mother that he and his siblings snuck away before they were allowed. Even his own brothers and sisters- if he could somehow get them to see the world as he saw it, maybe for once he’d be a little less lonely.

Of course, those things were against Warrior Code, and Cloudtail was destined to abandon his kittypet heritage. Fireheart made him swear, as soon as the kit was old enough, that he would would walk, talk, and act like a warrior. And he agreed, especially now that Fireheart was no longer Fireheart, but instead Firestar. He’d never get used to thinking of him as leader of the clan.

But now he was willing to throw the trust built between him and the warriors if it meant Brightheart got to be happy again. He had to do something, to get her out of her scratched up head. She was miserable again, in another slump he once swore she outgrew. Time and time again, he helped her. When it first happened, he did. During the long recovery, he did. During the end of Bluestar’s reign, he did. He had to be able to now. If Cloudtail couldn’t make Brightheart happy, nobody could.

Of everything he recalled about life as a kittypet, one thing he missed was romance. Not the quick love between mates in the clan for making kittens and nothing more, but the kind of sparks that grew in his mother and father’s eyes. His father didn’t visit often, but when he did he would just simply talk to Princess long into the night, and they would giggle, and look over their kits, and share ideas about everything, anything. Their company was enough. The tom told his mate again and again he would someday take her out to meadows covered in more flowers than grass and gaze together at the stars. Cloudtail often wondered if they ever did.

He didn’t know where to take her at first. She lived in the forest longer than he did. It seemed there was nowhere on earth left where she could be happy, and that would be new. Romantic. Unlike Princess and Oliver, she grew used to nature. But he took her nonetheless, urging her to follow him on a walk out of camp into the meadows north. He was sure to steer clear of Snakerocks.

He had visited the meadows a few times before, mostly for tracking or traveling, but as they stepped past the other warriors on their way out of camp he pretended he knew it like it was his favorite place. “It’s beautiful out there, under the stars, no trees or rocks in sight,” he told her breathily as they scampered past the bushes. He had no concept of time- he assumed that was some kind of special warrior-blood ability- but he could only hope they wouldn’t get in trouble coming in late in the morning. Under Firestar, Cloudtail wouldn’t face the risks he had a few moons ago, but Brightheart was a different story.

The meadow was nothing special. The grasses were long, tannish green up close, blackened as they neared the horizons. Flowers were few and far between, unscented wildflowers speckling the rolls of grass. The night was bright and strong, the grey light persisting despite the clouds. It was unmistakably ThunderClan land to him now; he just somehow knew, despite its plain appearance.

Continuing in silence, Cloudtail lead with his chin pointed straight ahead and his tail sticking straight out. The wind pushed through the tips of the grassy leaves, barely tangible but enough to create the soft sigh of rustling. Brightheart was eerily silent, seemingly not even breathing.

He came across a few rocks between the grass, just at the top of a faint hill. Cloudtail tensed his muscles and scrambled onto one, making a show of guiding her with his tail, and struggling slightly as if to say, it’s okay, take your time. Scooting to the left to make room on the small boulder, he frowned when Brightheart faltered in her step. She flexed her front paws and balanced on the rock, flicking her one ear.

Cloudtail raised an eyebrow but soon she turned away, walking behind him along the back of the rock. Her long striped orange tail trailed behind, her movements fast and rushed as she slipped out of sight before emerging on his left side, nudging his broad white paw with her delicate one.

He obligingly moved, trying to look forward; focus on the scene, don’t worry about her. Don’t let her know you worry about her. It wasn’t until the tom threw a glance to his left that he realized why she had to sit on this side of him. The answer stared him right back, in those— no, just that one— glossy teal eye.

A younger version of him with a crooked smile, fluffy fur, and a twinkle in his eye, would have grinned. She must be sitting like this so her good eye could look back at him; so they would never leave each other’s line of sight.

But he knew, by the way she lowered her head a bit and pointed the right side of her face at the ground, it was all her self consciousness. The fears and embarrassment and horror stuck in her head, that he worked so hard and spent so long trying to pull out, but would always stay there.

He just needed to try harder, to remind her he loved her. That he found the scars beautiful, brave, refined. That he liked just one eye because he could gaze at it more intensely. Fumbling for turn of phrase, he ran his tongue along his teeth, hoping something would come out. It was her choice to hide half her face from him.

Since he poured his eyes over the landscape well enough, he turned to her. But her head turned up, to the sky. Not even one look at him.

He chewed on a whisker, biting back a growl. He tried to follow her gaze, to just pretend the sky was a pretty thing hanging above them and nothing more. It was indigo, rich violet, shading darker the farther up it went. Dark blue clouds drifted above, just shadowing the edges of a glowing white moon. But it was the stars. The damn stars, twinkling light white, a little too bright.

When their mother first explained StarClan to Cloudkit, Ashkit, and Fernkit, with an overeager tone to her voice, he was told that each star was a dead cat, up in StarClan. That was why there were so many, uncountable- because the dead were many, uncountable. He didn’t understand, and could only wonder what his mate was thinking as she looked up at the clouds. Was this star, cast in blue, supposed to be Bluestar? Was the one hazy through the clouds, almost smoky, Yellowfang?

Brightheart’s eye unfocused, watching the sky. The starlight rolled down her cheeks and disappeared into her neck. He knew where her mind was. As followed her gaze between the scattered clumps of stars, he wondered which one was Swiftpaw.

Every time the thoughts crossed his mind, he forced himself to be ashamed. He was just an apprentice, when he died tragically. Trying to save his clan. Trying, even under a leader who favored cats like Cloudpaw over him. He thought he was honorable, making that trip to Snakerocks. So did Brightheart, apparently.

But Cloudtail almost wished the mind or soul or spirit of Swiftpaw was still around somewhere, so the warrior could shout at him, “Look at what you left behind. See how broken she is? How regretful? See how much I’m trying?”

Brightheart sighed, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said, finally breaking the silence of the voices.

“Do what?” he dared ask, although he knew where this was going. A painful knot twisted in his chest, and the air seemed to be in motion, pushing down. He felt very, very heavy on the rocks.

“Not believe.” She shook her head, still looking at the stars, in what looked to be disbelief. Disbelief that something so beautiful, clever, perfect, unreal, as StarClan, could exist.

This wasn’t the conversation he wanted them to have on what should be a romantic walk. No, this was about her, not him and everybody else. She was smart— she knew this would only bring trouble. Why now?

But Cloudtail would be lying if he said he hadn’t made up versions of this conversation, with every clan member imaginable, for moons. He’d be lying if he claimed to never wish for some to be true.

“You know, I don’t do it because I don’t know enough about it. Not believe, I mean. I don’t like being ignorant. I do it because it’s… reasonable.” This was true. In the beginning, when he was a kit and still learning, he wanted desperately to believe in StarClan. He tried to wrap his mind around the place where dead cats go. When he couldn’t make sense of it, he told himself it was just because he was young. It was gained with experience, this knowledge of the mystical StarClan, and someday when he was older and smarter and stronger he’d be so sure in getting it he’d be able to explain it to the kits.

Then things got peculiar. Ashkit and Fernkit, by the time they were ‘paws, understood what StarClan was. Ashkit in his play battles would wish his “fallen” friends a good journey off to StarClan. Fernkit would listen eagerly to their mother’s tales of warriors long ago, now dead, and how they were in StarClan now.

Cloudkit still had questions. How did the medicine cat know they weren’t just dreaming? Did the leader really have nine lives, or were opposing warriors just a little more gentle, and the leaders dramatic? How was anybody so sure of any of this? Questioning was received with harsh scoldings and eye-rolls from the supposedly all knowing adults. And what became innocent wondering turned spiteful. He gave up trying to figure it out, and instead decided it would be a part of him. As an apprentice, he tuned out the lessons on StarClan. And now, as a warrior, it lingered in the air, less so than when he was young but still strong, isolating. Perhaps the final barrier between him and his mate.

“It just doesn’t make sense to me, Cloudtail, and I don’t think it ever will. StarClan is very much real, above us now.” Brightheart sounded so hopeless and resigned. Cloudtail wasn’t sure whether he should dote with pity and comfort, or lean into his frustration and anger, hoping that would cure it.

He chose anger.

“Never? You don’t think we’ll ever be able to understand each other?” He straightened his neck, so his head easily held over her. He didn’t know whether to ask her to understand him, or the other way around.

Her spine arched, curling in on herself rather than responding to him. “I don’t know what I’ll see in you, but you won’t get me. Th-thank you for taking me out here, but… you know about this. You know how I am, Cloud.”

Cloudtail broke his stare at her and turned back to the sky, tilting and swaying in his view. At the thought of warriors turning something as gruesome as death into a pleasant night sky, his nostrils flared. His tail crept around the backs of her haunches, but she silently flicked it away. “Try me,” he finally said. “I just want to know how you believe in StarClan.”

She closed her eyes tight, a painful noise coming from her throat, her tail shaking slightly along the surface of the rock. This was, by far, one of the worst parts of losing an eye. Yellowfang had first explained, because she lost one eye, she couldn’t properly tear up in the other. It was like the grief had to force itself out in other ways, in these harsh wails and a cold, tense body.

But she looked up, breathed weakly, and turned to him, for just a second. He knew she was bound to remember, regardless of the present, but couldn’t help but feel this was his fault. Why couldn’t he have quieted her with pity, licked the side of her face and smile warmly as she spoke of Swiftpaw, again and again, up in StarClan? His expression softened a little too late. “Let me explain it this way. Cloudtail, you’ve never really… experienced danger. Not really.”

“Yes I have. I’ve fought battles, I’ve been through fires, I’ve—“

“But you’ve never risked your life.”

“I risk my life all the time for my clan.” His voice was surprisingly blank. He said this so many times, he barely even felt the words. They stung, from Brightheart, but it wasn’t like she didn’t already know. Know he was different.

“Not— I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, you’ve always had a lingering sense of safety,” she said hurriedly. “Not that you haven’t been in danger or sacrificed something, and, and it has nothing to do with you being a kittypet, it’s just, you always know that you won’t die any second.”

Gulping down, his stomach swirling, he said, “But… do you?”

“Not anymore. I’m probably safer than you, with you and the whole clan behind me. But- but Cloudtail, when you have the experiences I have…”

She choked back her voice before it broke, and he inched a tiny bit closer to her, still not touching her but letting his moon-cast shadow fall over her fur.

“Cloudtail, when you stare down death’s jaws, when you look between its teeth wrapped around your skull, already so quickly aware of your own doom, you… you see things differently. There’s no real way you’d understand what it’s like to be in the claws of a dog, seeing your death before it ever happens, seeing the mourning, the grieving, the way the world goes in a little differently without you.”

When he first learned of the clan’s world, he thought of it similarly. Crawling with danger at every step, death a common occurrence. But she looked at it not with wide eyed curiosity, but one-eyed regret.

“I… don’t remember a lot about that fight with the dogs. I remember what came before it too much, but not enough to replay the events as they were in my mind, and think of them in a way that comforts me. Cloudtail, there’s no detail you don’t know. I’ve told you everything.” “Good,” he replied softly.

“But… there is one thing. I’m not sure if you remember it or not.” Raising a brow slightly, he couldn’t help but think of her eye, the way it was all wrapped up, the hole stuffed with herbs and honey to soothe it, the way both cat and dog claw scrapes and blood pulled away from her face. He grew used to the eye as it was now, but somehow the way it looked in the medicine den was worse.

“B-by the time the dogs got to me, by the time they had me in their mouth, blind and on the ground? When I thought for sure I was gone already?” Her voice faded to a whisper. ”By then, Swiftpaw was already dead.”

She drew in a sharp breath, the soft curve of her breast shaking slightly. “I just barely saw him, them get to him, saw them then turn to me a second after.” “Why did you keep fighting?”

“I, I didn’t really know why at the time. I saw him go, and I’m sure I had the time to turn around, away from their snapping jaws. There was blood, blood everywhere, shaking across the grass like fresh dew. I just ran across it.

“Maybe I just didn’t realize we were doomed, he was dead, that it all fell apart. That our heroic plan that had to protect us under the fact of our age, was gone. Maybe I just didn’t get it yet. But, I’ve thought about it a lot, and I guess… I guess I thought fighting the dogs would help. It was our mission, and we had to finish it and be saviors of the clan, and only then would the end be final.”

For the first time in moons, Cloudtail was able to look at her scars, flung across her face, loud and blatant, and think of them as sacrifices, her as a hero, rather than a victim. Believing she could save her clan, realizing for the first time that the leaders weren’t always right, that she could play a part. Paying the price of an eye, but receiving the punishment of grief. Her mission wasn’t failed- it just came at a high cost.

“I’ve never felt so angry in my life, Cloudtail. When I saw what they did to Swiftpaw, I was actually scared of myself. I ran to them, just wanting to will him back. Like giving everything I had would somehow make him get back up.”

Was this what the warriors taught a young Brightheart, while Cloudtail played in the trees, scolded out of the lesson? Is this honor?

“I know it sounds crazy now, but, I guess I believed in StarClan then. Well, I knew as much as, he was dead and I wasn’t. And I thought, I had to be with him. We wouldn’t separate. Either fighting would somehow force nature to bring him to life, to the waking world, or I would lose the fight, and…” The muscles beneath the scar tissue tensed up. “And I would die to be with him.”

“You would rather die in the jaws of a dog than go back to the clan if it meant- if it meant being with Swiftpaw?” Cloudtail was more confused, than anything else. He paid a price for living in the clans— yet her faith in an unreal afterlife would justify throwing it all away? Was that what Swiftpaw decided to do, fighting the dogs even when there was no option other than loss?

Did Brightheart decide the same thing?

“I- I would, Cloudtail. I had to be with him, and if I couldn’t bring him into my world, I was going to follow him to StarClan.”

“So that’s it,” he said, his voice darkening. “That’s how you know StarClan is real. Because you want to believe he’s in there.”

“No. The reason I know, the reason they have to be real, is because I’m not with him. I didn’t die, Cloudtail.”

Her head thrusted forward, and she seemed to purposefully guide the right side of her face to the light, for every ridge and slash along the tissue to show. “I was so close to dying, Cloudtail. I already knew I had. My skull, it was already crushed by their teeth…”

“You didn’t survive because StarClan saved you,” he threw in. “You survived because you’re resilient, a warrior— that’s the type of fighter who you are. It was nobody but you, you saved yourse—”

“No, I didn’t!” Her voice broke with another sob. “StarClan knew I would join their ranks. They already had one apprentice come to them, too young, and irrational, in a falling clan. They wouldn’t accept another, they couldn’t.” “But- but if they let Swiftpaw die, why wouldn’t they let you?” He held down a growl of frustration, grinding his paw into a stalk of grass.

“Starclan couldn’t get him back from the dead. Everybody knows that.” “But—”

“They wouldn't let me die, Cloudtail, because I would have died by my choice, just to follow Swiftpaw. They wouldn't let that. The dogs got to Swiftpaw, and he became one of them, but… I like to think that from StarClan, when he just joined, he could see what I was doing. He knew I wanted to be with him. But they couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let me die just for him. They saved me. They pulled the dog away from me, just as it took out my eye, made it leave. Let me fall to the ground, harmed but alive, until the clan arrived.”

“Do you—” A stone forming in his own throat, tears pooled in his eyes. “Do you think they knew I would help you?”

“I think he knew. I think he saw you, in the future, helping me the way you do now. I think he knew you’d be okay.” Her voice was more confident now. She pressed her head against his neck, shaking with the emotions and thoughts barely keeping themselves contained, and he rested his head atop hers, tears flooding down the sides of his face. “And… and you Swiftpaw accepted I would help you?”

“Not accept,” she whispered, softer than him. “He wanted you to help. He knew you would.”

They sat like that for a long time, her tail tentatively curled around his, the soft fur on her neck and the spiky fur on his brushing. Her teal eye stayed half closed, focused on the meadow, the world below, while his blue ones just looked up, at the sky.

“That’s why you believe in StarClan,” he said, almost not to her, just to the world. “Because…”

“It’s the only way I can rationalize what happened. That he’s alive, with them, and I’m not.” She buried her head in his mane. “Why I got lucky enough to have a clan full of cats who care about me now, so unlike what he had growing up.”

“It wasn’t luck, Brightheart, it was the kindness of cats.” He sniffed, pulling away so he could see her better. “If there’s a higher power, they’re probably against me by now. But I keep going on, against my destiny, because I love the clan. I love this place. I love you.”

A cloud passed the pale moon, the sky blinking in its light. He watched it, turning, rolling above him, salmon pink looming on the horizon. “I don’t believe in StarClan because I don’t need to. I have to build my own path with my own paws, but I’m not going to walk it alone.”

Alone the edge of the meadow, where dawnlight started to tip the grasses, he could see the silhouettes of other warriors and apprentices, racing along the horizon. They stared at the same sky he and Brightheart saw, but from where they stood, they saw day, in the light of sun. But Cloudtail and Brightheart sat on the rock, talks twined, taking in the night as long as the stars stayed over their heads.

He took in the scents of spring air, earthy and clean and crisp. The world had to work in its own way, if it meant he got to see the night sky, free of the lights the Twolegs put out for themselves. That’s what he saw in it— freedom, a new, romantic life.

She placed her paw on his, her calmed heartbeat timing with him. He hadn’t realized how fast both of their hearts were. Pressed together, they both thought it was normal. It was only when it calmed and stilled he realized he could smoothly breath again.

And then, between the heartbeats, something jolted against the smooth surface of her stomach. It vibrated against his leg, pressed to her side, and made him shiver. He heard the tiniest gasp from her, and knew she felt it.

The tensed muscles of her face pulled down, and she blinked, registering it. A dreamy smile swept Cloudtail’s face. By the grin across his mate’s muzzle, she must feel the same. “Maybe you need to believe in StarClan,” Cloudtail finally continued, watching the night scroll past them. If his unborn kits could hear him from Brightheart’s belly, he hoped they were listening. “But, but I need to believe in my own things. My own truths, about how the world works, things I have to trust too. I have to believe the clan accepts me. I have to believe I’m enough. I don’t believe that cats like me can’t be warriors. I have to believe the world supports us, even if it’s not because of StarClan.

“But if StarClan means something to you, means as much as you say it does, well, I hope it helps. I hope it helps when life can’t.”

The stars were starting to fade, still burning in Brightheart’s eyes but giving way to the softness of day, the smoothness of the sun. Cloudtail watched the sun glisten the tips of her fur, bounce off of the scars around her eye, frame her against the horizon. As beautiful as the night was to take in, it would never compare to day.

Brightheart smiled, and he hoped she knew just how beautiful she looked until the sun. “We’re unbelievers and believers in our own way, Cloudtail. But we can both believe in kindness, truth, the beauty of nature and of others. At the end of the night, isn’t that what love is?”