Ebonysight's Memory

Introspection.

Ebonysight had wandered from the Herbalist Den when Auburnkit and Weevilfur had begun talking. The noise had been moving so fast, but her world had felt so slow in comparison. Now she sat at the stream's side, watching the water flow. Small bubbles formed and frothed and disappeared before her very eyes as she simply watched. The rocks beneath the water's surface were small and subtle, worn by years of flowing water just above them. She wanted to fish a paw in, move them somehow, give them new life and a new stream to support, but her legs ached and her paws refused to move for something so little.
         Atop this water sat the reflection of a black cat, waving subtly. One golden eye, one crimson. Scars, a lot of them. Two big ears. This was her; this was Ebonysight. She recognized that face, she recognized herself. Yet this Ebonysight was moving where she was not. This Ebonysight was rippling as time moved by whilst she seemed rooted to the ground. Was this actually her? Did she exist in this lake as she did, sat upon its border? Was this Ebonysight a cat with memories, or were they a ripple themselves? Were they a part of the stream that ran? She had no answers, in truth. She wasn't sure there were any answers to be found, she was likely just overthinking it, but she couldn't find it in herself to get up and move. So she stared at this Ebonysight and the depth under it, ever moving.
         Was she moving? She couldn't find it in her memories. She was having trouble finding anything there. She knew she had them all, her mind ached as it normally did, but it was wrong. She could remember being a warrior before an apprentice, and that sat wrong with her. She knew, as all cats knew, that you went from kit to apprentice to warrior, so why did she remember hunting in a patrol before learning to hunt in itself? She couldn't find her first memory in her mind. No matter how many rows of tessellations of memories she looked between in her mind's eye, she couldn't pinpoint just what was her first. She knew it was there somewhere, but her mind worked weirdly. She could normally single out particular memories, it was one of her favorite skills to entertain herself with, but now she felt lost. Lost, lost in herself, lost in the past, lost in the stream infront of her.
         A memory had come to her attention as she searched tear by tear. It was her with another cat, a smaller one, a cat she felt was too young to be out of camp. She was in a hunting stance; she could feel that much in the smudges of residue each distinct memory left behind with them. The other cat was looking, but she couldn't tell what this cat was. They were a shape, a color, both of which felt unknown. They changed with each movement, smearing from one to the next as though being dragged. They wouldn't stop forming anew, their voice playing back on itself in feeling and not words. They didn't speak much, were they listening to her? The words that came from her mouth didn't sound right; they didn't match how her jaws felt to be moving. This memory was wrong. The sounds were wrong. The feeling of the other cat was wrong. Yet why was the backing of such an easy memory gone? She could feel it was recent... Or was it recent at all? Were her feet and fur betraying her in the past? Was it really a leafbare in that memory? Was it simply her eyes that were wrong? She only had one, she hoped it was right. Sat beside the water, was she sure this reflection was real? Was this second Ebonysight even sat atop the water, looking back with those same eyes? Was this yet another memory? Where was she?
         She had to ground herself; she had to. She was Ebonysight, she was in the world, she was sitting beside the stream in camp. Summitclan camp, Summitclan her home. It was... Leaf-fall, on its path to leaf-bare. She was alone, save for the rippling of the water infront of her, and the image of herself looking back. No wind flew, no leaves crunched, and nobody was bothering her. Her mind was playing back on itself, as it did before it shorted itself for good. Her mind had its usual pressure... But why would it have its usual pressure if something felt as if it was missing from within? Why would it have its usual pressure if all the connections between memories were disjointed and dislodged? Why would it have its usual pressure if something was very deeply wrong? What was forcing its way against her? Her eyes were rippling, like the water. The world was rippling. She was rippling like the stream was. The ever-still stream. Why was the stream still? This was wrong, something was wrong. The stream was never still. It was folding, ever-folding. She was folding. She was the stream. She was the world. Shapes were colors, scents were noises. Noises were colors, she was shapes, she was colors. She was gray. She rippled. It rippled.

Gray tessellations surrounded her. Once more she was in a world of weightlessness, of warped realities and burned ashes. She was sinking, too fast to stabilize herself yet too slow to lose herself. The walls would work to fix her, and so she leaned a paw out. They were there, yet they weren't. She could see so deep into the darkness that faded into more rows upon rows of gray beads connected by gray rods. In a warp between them, her eyes seemed to tear once more as each individual connection fought to stay in her mind. Would they disappear without her? They fought like they would. She reached out a paw, grasping for a connection. Were they solid? She was falling into darkness; she had no time to figure it out. With claws unsheathed and fingers splayed, she grabbed for a connection.
         They snapped under her paws. A feeling beyond pain split out in her mind, it rooted itself through her mind to behind her eyes. It clawed as nothing had ever clawed before. Her muscles contracted, her body involuntarily flexing under the strength of itself. A hiss emitted from the walls. A hiss? This place had never made a noise before, she knew as such despite no memories of it coming to mind. It was loud, louder than what her mind could figure out. Every fiber of her being was rejecting her, every connection in her mind and her flesh. The pressure was threatening to snap her into a thousand pieces, beyond what there already was. Her jaws refused to move for her, her muscles refused to move for her, her body refused to move for her. She was stuck, like a corpse, watching from behind the sunken hollows of her eyes.
         The pain that had settled in her eyes had enveloped her entirety, yet not her body. She was not her body, not right now. She was little more than a falling morsel in a world of gray structures. She had no jaw to open and to breathe with. She wanted to breathe; she wanted to be real. She was real. She wanted to be real. She was real. It wanted to be real. It was real. The gray had faded to black as she fell, and she realized she could no longer see the walls of gray beside her. They had disappeared, as she had, but she could hear tearing in the distance. Something was breaking, something was snapping. Something was falling. It was loud. It was so loud. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. It needed to stop. Stop, please. Stop, please. Stop, please. Stop. Please stop. Stop. It nee

She was sat under an unfamiliar sky. It was dark above, a blanket of a million stars above her. They flickered like snow, but they stayed like the world beneath at the same time. It was comforting to know that they rested above her like she rested down here. She had never noticed so many details in such a sky, the beauty of each individual dot that seared her vision. She didn't want to look away.
         "Its such a beautiful sky..." A voice was beside her. A black shape, like her own. Unlike all those she could recall, this one didn't flicker. It was stable, it was built to live through the world's end as she knew it. Yet it was so beautifully warm. It deserved a place amongst all the stars above, it seemed like a staple of them. Her legs were stubby as she picked herself up. She wanted to sit in this warmth forever, as if the world beyond it was nothing but frozen wasteland. It took her a great many strides to plant herself within the shape's fur, the skies above fluttering. The shape was rumbling in such a calming manner, as if they were a beacon of the world.
         Ebonysight had so many questions to ask yet no words moved to her maw. She simply looked at the shape in wonder. Why did her body have to be inactive now? On the cusp of something great, she could only stand and look with mystified eyes. It rumbled more, and finally the same voice soothed her ears, "its okay, little one. The stars will be here tomorrow. You can always ask them then, but now it's time to sleep. We've been stargazing for much too long, and your siblings have ran away already."
         But she didn't want to sleep. She didn't want to sleep at all. She wanted to sit under these skies, with this shape with this beautiful voice. Her heart yearned for this. She yearned for this. Was this my place in life? Is this what I was born to find? Is this my ending or my true peace? Is this even real? I don't want it to end, I don't want to find out it isn't. Tears began to well in her eyes, finally welling the dryness that had overtaken her for what seemed like an epoch.
         The shape leaned down and licked her fur. It was so tender yet so big, so soothing yet so numbing. She never wanted it to end, she didn't want to say goodbye to this cat. She didn't have to say goodbye to this cat, yet apparently it was time to sleep. It spoke again, "don't cry, my little crimson star. We'll all be here tomorrow. Let's get you some sleep, so you can face tomorrow with strength. How does that sound, little one?"
         Another cat had come to join them. Their shape was familiar. It was black as was hers, and it was as deep as it was wide. It felt so weird to see them so small, yet so normal. They had blue eyes; it was striking enough to burn its way to their shape. Why did that matter to her? They had already snuggled up between her and the big shape of warmth and rumbles, so she fought to pry them away in a fit of wails... but her stubby legs provided no power, and she had to settle to settle beside them.
         A third cat came to join them. This one... Something was wrong about this cat's shape. No words could describe it perfectly. It felt as if the night sky above, the canvas for all the beautiful stars in the world, had walked over to them and now laid beside her. It was so deep, so filling, and so pure. They burned so bright. They would change the world; she felt as much. Their body was warm against hers as the three small shapes huddled under the big one. The world began to melt and disappear. Sanctity filled her for the first time. This was peace as she had never known it. It melted, and she melted with it.

Now once more she was sat on the banks of the stream in the camp, alone. Her pelt felt cold, and there was no big shape to rumble and provide warmth. Its scent had disappeared too, gone too soon. The air was cold against her. It took her a moment to realize her eyes were wet, and the fur beneath them matted.
         She dipped her face in the stream to hide herself once more. She could describe away the blemishes in her fur now, yet the memory was too precious to throw away as easily. Getting to her paws, she shook her limbs that now moved as they once refused to, and padded back to the Herbalist's Den.