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What does it mean to be lucky?
Fireheart had never really pondered that thought. The actions before him were inevitable. No movement nor force of his would change its trajectory. He had never had the time to dwell on such matters before. He was always too focused on the present. But since he might never dwell on it again now was as good a time as any.
The idea itself seems only good in nature. It implies good fortune, that a benevolence thought well of you and your success, or that the earth liked you a little bit more than everyone else. There didn’t seem to be any inherent downsides to being lucky, so how could it be a negative? It equates to your good fortune. Like finding a plump rabbit sunbathing alone or you accidentally getting laid over on patrols for the day. General, oftentimes small term life improvements.
This is widely considered the definition of luck and most would stop there. But, there is another kind of luck. One that works with you and against you. For instance, in the undercurrent of life you might be lucky enough to just narrowly miss a moving monster. Or trip in battle, stumbling just in time to dodge a claw swipe at the jugular. Even being surviving a forest fire is considerably lucky.
The luck these individuals possess stems from hazardous conditions. One instance can be aquated to simple luck but those who continuously have to deal with such phenomena will have a different outlook. Eventually, it comes to a point where you wonder if your supposed luck leads you into these situations. And if someone constantly found themself in bad situations, despite their nack for surviving said encounters, would be considered unlucky.
Is it the act of surviving these make you lucky or does being in unfortunate circumstances make you unlucky?
Though he fell into the latter vein of luck he considered himself very lucky. He had been picked up as an outsider, fought a destitute dictator as an apprentice, rescued a clan, survived a forest fire, stopped a quo d'etat, and the list goes on far past what he can remember offhand. Not to mention the number of enemies he managed to make. All of which he has, or perhaps at this point he should say had, managed to outmaneuver.
Any one of these points could have led to a painful exit but he had managed to stagger through. Oftentimes in relatively good condition. At least physically. He had seen better cats receive worse for less.
But then things hadn’t been too great for the tom as of late. Or perhaps he had been miserable for a while. It was hard to keep track of these days. He had seen a good deal of his friends either die or were uprooted and left. The ones who were left were either acquaintances, currently angry at him, or had gone off the deep end.
His only real friend left was Cinderpelt who, through a technical proxy, he had inadvertently crippled. And, just recently, his home burned down along with a good friend. Now he was practically single-handedly leading a disheveled and broken clan, while simultaneously fighting off not only the former deputy made leader of an antagonistic clan and his vagabonds but a pack of feral dogs as well. A rather unlucky string of events.
However, these events are overarching, not targeted, per se. You don’t necessarily have bad luck if everyone is experiencing the same bad luck. At the end of the day, he was a very lucky cat, he had to be.
Maybe these were just the warning signs and he should’ve seen the writing on the wall. A call that he was nearing a focal point. The beginning of the end. He had never really contextualized his ‘luck’, he’d never really had the time to and life is fleeting, his more than most.
If he had he might have recalled the one rule that seems to follow luck. Regardless of superstition, there is a general understanding that luck is a finite resource. In that, it will eventually run out.
And when it runs out completely, that’s it.
To the passing stray, it would seem Fireheart had reached his limit, maybe even overdrawn his account as the hound launched forward towards the tomcat. Its legs stretching forward in a great leap, jaws open to receive the comparatively smaller cat's neck into its mouth. Hoping to crush and maim him.
It would seem this mantra to be correct then, that luck was a commodity that could be emptied more than a made up concept.
No, he didn’t like the sound of that. Luck wasn’t something you could lose. Even the luckiest of cats can have some bad luck. It could then be assumed that you can have a spout of such bad luck that the good luck can’t compensate. The weights misalign and in extreme cases, like the one he found himself in, they would break.
It had to be true and he could prove it. As even now he was still a very lucky cat.
For instance, the initial plan to simply jump out of the way was no longer possible. The plan was no masterclass in tactical genius and to the untrained eye it might even look entirely half-assed. But that wasn’t necessary to succeed, he had something better than logistical prowess, he had luck on his side.
Sure the beast crashed into him, badly twisting his leg and bruising his body. But lucky for him his mind was too focused on the teeth currently embedding themselves into his neck to worry about them. His neck might already be bleeding profusely, their teeth tearing through his flesh like butter. But he had, luckily, been facing forward. Landing the teeth on either side of his neck, missing his windpipe entirely.
That was baseline luck though, he needed enough to save the clan. And he would do it with luck and a little help from the intrinsic properties of the world. Or as he’d call it, momentum.
The dogs might have snagged him but the force and velocity in which they did would be their demise. With that much speed, there was nothing to stop them from plummeting over the cliff. He felt the hound try to dig in its heals, realizing its mistake at the last second. One second too late, unfortunately. Rather unlucky for the brute. His paws scraped at the rock as he threw himself over the edge. Fireheart was thrown as well though the panicked mutt, to his luck, had released him. Putting him into freefall.
Falling wasn’t so different from floating. He felt weightless, gravity doing all the heavy lifting (or rather falling). The sky was alight with stars, unmasked in spite of the sun. In them he could see the warriors of old. Many unfamiliar faces darted the sky. They stood solemnly, Their saddened faces silently watching his descent. They all came out to see a warrior’s passing. He was quite lucky to get such a venue.
He wondered, for a moment, what was beyond the light. If these specters were merely an allusion of a dying mind or if there really was a paradise beyond the stars. The idea of mortality and our own fleeting existence could drown a cat in superstition and sorrow, luckily for Fireheart, he came smack down in the middle of the river. Rattling him out of his stupor.
Having just survived a lethal drop off a cliff he was immediately thrown into the chaotic turbulence of the river. He thrashed at the water, paws flailing at the current, trying desperately to get his head above the water. Any thoughts of StarClan or the inner workings of a vague concept were lost to him. Pure instinct took over. He was barely even aware of the rabid wolves howling downstream, lost to the current.
But, ever the lucky cat, Fireheart still had two working forward paws. Only one of his hind legs refused to work. He managed to angle himself towards a rock jutting out of the torrent. It was only when he slammed into it did he feel the huge gash in his side. It seems when the dog had leaped at him he had used his other paw to scratch down his side, the old one-two punch. It caused the hound to lose its footing on impact, inadvertently leading to his collapse. Another lucky break for Fireheart.
The pain inside his chest was great but his will to get to shore was greater. Driven by adrenaline, and with just a tap of luck, he launched himself off the rock towards ThunderClan’s shores.
It was quite lucky to have had prior swimming lessons thanks to a few niche exploits saving RiverClan kits. They had been quite lucky he had arrived. And it was lucky he had chosen last and fallen into the rapids.
He thrashes against the waves. Every working muscle was working at max capacity. But his strength was quickly waning and he still hadn’t recovered his breath from the long run. His head fell under further and further with each wave crashing into him as it became harder to keep afloat. The river thundered around him, but all he could hear was his heartbeat in his ear, thumping away what little blood he had left.
To most, an unfortunate turn of bad luck. Not for Fireheart, he bathed in luck on the daily. He felt two cats shoulder him on either side, gliding him towards the other side. He might have thought StarClan themselves had sent down help.
His breath was completely ragged. His lungs refused to take in the necessary oxygen while simultaneously screaming at him to take in more air. It made his head spin and his vision blur, or perhaps that was the blood loss.
But, lucky for him, he was a persistent one. With the combined strength of three cats he managed to push himself up. His arms violently shook under his weight, even with the help of the others. Eventually he got his torso above water and overland. He pushed himself forward a few more yards, hacking and coughing up water all the way, before turning over on his back.
The two cats who’d saved him a few more minutes of life stood over him. Their faces were straught with shock and sadness. The left one, a blue-eyed cat with grey fur, made a faint attempt to quell the bleeding against his chest, but he was sure they both knew it was over. They realized they were too late to save him.
Fireheart didn’t seem to mind much, he was only vaguely aware of those around him. His eyes were lazily fixed on the sky. Not seeming to latch onto anything. He just soaked in the moment.
This was what his body had been waiting for. The danger was gone, the physical strain was over. His body could now recover at its own leisure. For a brief moment he felt nothing but relief. The sky was a beautiful light blue with a few puffy clouds floating idly amongst its expanse. The sun was high in the sky, just beginning its descent towards the other horizon.
On days like this he would lay around after a long days hunt, lazily basking in its golden rays. Unaware of the grim reaper’s long fingers reaching ever closer to him. He was a pretty lucky fella after all, dying was something he watched others do. He merrily teetered the edge of death, always just out of range.
It wasn’t hubris mind you. It was just living life hoping it wouldn’t end. The young dying too soon.
He might have found it funny had his lungs agreed to cooperate. Despite their rest they still struggled to take in any air. No matter how hard he tried his lungs never filled completely. He was also growing aware that the wet feeling seeping down his neck and chest. A small puddle slowly gathered at his waist.
All he could do was lay there. The cat who’d survived tribulation after tribulation. He had been beaten, thrashed, burned, and now torn but never broken. He’d survived attack after attack, including fires, famines, pestilences, and political espionage. It’s enough to break even the strongest of cats. But through it all he had not only persisted, but thrived. Through perseverance, pure stubbornness, and a whole lot of luck.
His vision began to blur. Blackness filled the blue sky, like it was being suffocated under a thick blanket. His body had gone rigid. A cold ache racked his body. He no longer felt the trickle of blood seeping out of his neck or chest. Even his breathing had become innate. His body simply refused to take in air, like it had forgotten how to breathe. His body had shut down. Now he was just a soul, trapped in a rotting carcass.
He could feel his mind slipping into the eternal abyss. The memories he’d made shattered and dissipated into nothing. The individual that was Fireheart broke apart. Piece by piece he unraveled. Until there was nothing but a spark of consciousness left. The last vestiges of light were snuffed out, like fading stars blinking out one by one.
As the last sparks of light faded from his vision all he could do was wonder.
How did I ever get so lucky...