Username: ethium
Cat Name: tigercreek
Gender: male
Rank: deceased
Clan: elmclan
Age: 54 moons
Prompt:
tigercreek stared at his reflection in the churning water below him, watching as the currents swirled and the mist eddied around the muddy bank at his feet. it was a quiet night, but the full moon lit his path forward as he stepped away from the bank and onto the nearest jutting rock. He moved with liquid ease, ever as much the tiger he was named after. A true predator, he pushed himself off the first rock and onto the next in the center of the river. The final jump came quickly and he cleared it onto the opposite bank. A gentle huff came from him, the only thing to mark his presence as he turned to glance back the way he came. This was a path he would not see again, or at least, he did not intend to see it again.
Tiger's life as he knew it was about to end, and the path forward led through the woods before him, past the trout creek and into the unknown dangers of the wilderwood... away from elmclan and the duties he was now leaving behind.. and the daughter he was leaving as well. Guilt swelled in his gut as he thought of her, the young kit no older than a few moons. Her mother.. tigercreek shook his head forcefully, raw wrath surfacing at the thought of what had happened to the young child's mother. No child should have to live without parents, but tigercreek would not sit idly by while the murderer of his mate still wandered the territory. He would kill the vampire that had drained his mate's life away, and then he would die in peace, knowing that his daughter was safe from the atrocity committed against her mother. Tigercreek let out a snarl, coming to his senses about where he was and where he was going, and immediately set off into the forest.
Tigercreek knew where they had found his mate, two nights ago, drained of all life by the horrid creatures of the wilderwood. They had apparently attacked the patrol and had taken his mate and two other young warriors as retribution for "coming too close to the wood". Anyone with common sense knew that this was simply an excuse, that the vampires didn't really need an excuse to eat his clanmates, and yet they would do it anyway. It didn't matter, most weren't cats anyway. They were monstrous, deformed, and twisted. With long claws and gaping maws that would snap you up faster than a starving coyote. They were quick and agile, using the trees as transportation when the trees could bear their weight. But the scariest part wasn't the teeth and the claws or even the fact that these not-cats had used to be normal like him.. no.. the scariest part was the mimicry. The ability to replicate and lure is what made these creatures so dangerous. Luring their unsuspecting prey into the woods with the sounds of struggle, the cry of a babe, the call of a lover or a friend. All to get their prey alone and unwary, so they might never lose the element of surprise. Tigercreek felt his gut churn as he continued forward through the trees, his eyes watching the shadows a little longer as he continued to pick his way through the crisp night air. He ensured that there was no evil around by listening for the sound of mammals in the undergrowth and birds in the trees -- both of which were present at this time. Tiger nodded to himself and continued on, feeling his heart squeeze as he thought about what his mate must have heard and seen in her final moments. Was she scared? Tiger would have been scared, and he would not have blamed her. Had she gone into the trees because she had seen him? Had heard him as clear as day, or had heard her young kit wandering through the woods? What must have gone through her head when she discovered that the creature she was following was not her friend but rather a foe of unimaginable power... Tigercreek shuddered dangerously as he forced himself to stop and take a few breaths of deep icy air. He listened for the birds and the mammals, they reassured him that he was not in danger, and then he settled himself back on his haunches.
"Focus, Tiger." he warned himself, well aware that his emotional state would interfere with his ability to hunt his quarry.. quarry that was all too giddy to hunt him back. Tigercreek swallowed anxiously, his eyes searching the ground for any herbs that might ease his anxiety or his mental state. With a start he found mint nearby, and quickly chewed it, letting the scent temporarily overwhelm him before he let its calmness settle him. His mate had always smelled of mint, as she had often volunteered in the herb garden and had typically tended the plant. His mate had always been one to put others before herself. That had ultimately been what had gotten her killed, his mate had been on that patrol for other cats in need. For the cats that had needed the extra herbs alongside that border. Spiderwort grove had been too far to travel in such a distance, and the cats had desperately needed cobwebs to stifle bleeding back at camp, and so his mate had intrepidly led a gathering of 3 cats into the wilderwood in search of cobwebs and helpful herbs in a desperate bid to save the lives of those around her. It had gotten her killed, and now tigercreek hovered in the woods south of the wilderwood border, anguish churning in his gut. The grief was so raw and clear that it pierced through the night and any thought of revenge seemed to evaporate before it. He felt the tears then, finding their way down his face, as he crumbled in on himself. Every barrier he had erected in order to keep the blasted emotions out seemed to crumble in the face of it – in the face of her. Tigercreek cried, feeling utter pain and helplessness as he stared at the wilderwood. The wilderwood that had taken his mate and everything she stood for, the blasted magical wood that had taken his parents and had taken countless other cats, and there was nothing elmclan could do about it except for praying to the ancestors that they would not be next. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about those stupid woods was fair, and yet here tigercreek hovered, on the brink of turning tail and returning to elmclan, to his warm nest and the kit that was currently with another queen until she was old enough to go off on her own. Tigercreek felt a lull in his overwhelming emotion and took a deep breath – the mint had been a bad idea, too many emotions associated with the herb – and he made a mental note not to try it again, at least not until he was out of this (if he made it out of this). With a deep breath, tigercreek rose and angrily leveled his gaze at the woods.
“Alright you rotten wilderwood, I have come for the beast that took my mate. Whether I may die trying, I will avenge her death.” he snarled, springing forward and rushing the border of the wilderwood like he might rush an enemy line during a battle. He clawed through the bushes like he might rake his claws down the side of a cat and fiercely bared his teeth at every twisting shadow. He pushed out breath after breath, having to force himself to calm down, to focus on the task at hand. Snarling at the shadows wasn't going to bring his mate back, nor would it avenge her death, for now, he needed to find the clearing where the dawn patrol had found his mate’s body and track the monster’s scent that had done this to her. With these goals in mind, Tigercreek got to work. His whole body going rigid and then silent as he slipped between the trees. The wilderwood trees were thicker and broader than typical elmclan trees, their branches growing together at the top, creating an almost impenetrable canopy that made it nearly impossible for any common creature to see. Very faint snatches of moonlight filtered through the trees here, so tigercreek made good use of his excellent night vision as he bobbed and weaved through the forest. He came across a mud puddle, and quickly rolled in it, eager to hide his scent from the magical creatures that meandered the forest after dark. He smeared the brown mucky substance everywhere, and once he was satisfied with how sufficiently lathered he was, he made for the creek he could hear in the distance. Although creatures needed to drink and so there was a likely chance he might encounter some magical being there, tigercreek chose to chance it in favor of traveling on the river’s side and tailing it straight north to the clearing his mate had been in. The river alongside the mud, would mask his scent and hide his breathing alongside the sound of his pawsteps.
It did not take tigercreek long to find the river he had been hearing, the roaring of his rapids easily droned out any other sounds. This decision was a duel-edged one. Although his sounds would be muffled by the river, so would the sounds any predators made. He would have to be watchful, and on guard at all times. Which was a normal requirement of being in the wilderwood so tigercreek didn’t think much of it. The trees have eyes… The old saying pierced his thoughts as he shifted uneasily, still hovering on the tree line, uncertain of stepping out towards the river just yet. The river was illuminated by moonlight, the trees of the wilderwood failing to grow sufficiently over them, so there was plenty of light for him to see and travel by. When tigercreek decided he was sufficiently alone, he chose to move out of his hiding place in the bushes and begin traveling north along the river’s edge.
“Follow the wilderwood’s river north until the moon aligns with the great runestone, there you will find a clearing. It’s in that clearing that we’ll be looking for herbs and cobwebs.” His mate had explained to him the night before she had left, prodding him playfully. She had meant the words to be in reassurance, that she wouldn’t be too far from the elmclan border with the wilderwood and so he didn’t need to tie his tail into knots over the possibility of something catching her. Turns out his intuition had been right. If he wasn’t so bent up over the fact that he had just lost the love of his life, he might have been in the mood to throw out a laugh and an ‘I told you so’ glare at the nearest living being. Tiger hadn’t been paying too much attention when she had been prattling on, but the information had come back in stark detail the moment he had settled on a revenge plan. They had buried her this morning, he had sat vigil with her throughout the night, if he shifted right he could still smell her earthy-mint scent. Tigercreek had intentionally blocked out the faint trace of fear on her pelt, not wanting to traumatize himself further than he needed to. All of those thoughts had come back in full force the following night when they had buried her and it truly settled upon his shoulders that she was now gone. His north star, his light to guide him home… there was no north star now. He ran his tongue over his teeth angrily. Leaving elmclan had been easy because he had buried the one cat that had been keeping him going two nights ago. He chose to block out any thoughts of his daughter, deciding that she was better if he was gone – that his daughter didn’t need such a failure of a father around. He had failed to protect her mother, and if he stayed he would have failed to protect her too. From the moment tigercreek had opened his eyes he had known he would be the demise of his family. He was the black hole, the night that sucked in everything around it and destroyed all of the good in his life. His parents had died, his brother had died, his mate had died… he would not let his blackhole destroy his daughter as well. She deserved better than him, and elmclan would find her some surrogate parent that would indeed be better than him. Tigercreek simply prayed to the ancestors that elmclan would find the body of the horrible beast that had killed his mate alongside him so that she might know her father did not go into the wilderwood to die – but rather to destroy the very thing that had taken so much from him. Would he be revered as a hero? He didn’t want to hope that he would, especially because of how quickly narratives shifted and changed. He simply prayed his daughter would not see him as a coward, that she would come to realize that he had made this decision for her. All of this is for her. To protect her, to care for her. Tigercreek grunted with the effort of pulling himself forward as he waded through the river, rising and swirling past his ankles. He cast his senses around, banishing any thoughts of his daughter. The only thought that mattered now was getting to the clearing and hunting down this monster. His muscles strained as he continued his slow ascent upstream, his mud-coated body beginning to crack and crumble into a fine dust as the slick material began to solidify. He raised his head and tested the wind with his tongue, keeping a grueling pace. Ensuring that he was downwind of the clearing was essential, especially because the creature may return tonight to see if any of its last meal still remained. (This thought set tigercreek’s blood boiling, but he shut down those thoughts the moment they clawed their way into his brain. It was one thing to think of them, another to begin ripping at the creek bed with his claws out of rage.) Tiger then cast his senses out, alert for any dangers that might be lurking in the woods. Ancestors knew that the woods were full of them, at least historically they had been known to be brimming with magical life (usually the magical life that wanted nothing more than to chow down on an unsuspecting cat), but the woods were silent, unassuming and it occurred to tiger that he had not seen a single living thing since entering the woods. Tigercreek blinked at the realization but kept pulling himself forward, suddenly self-conscious. The hairs on his back began to stand on end and he felt a chill crawl up his spine. The mist floating on top of the water seemed to curl around him, seem to embrace him, welcome him. Welcome home, it seemed to croon, welcome to your death. Tigercreek shook his pelt lightly, careful not to spread his scent more than necessary but the urge to move, to escape that horrible feeling of being watched was so strong he nearly dashed for the treeline. The only thing keeping him rooted to the creek and moving forward was that whatever was watching him, didn’t seem to be aware that he knew it was watching him. Or maybe it was and it was getting some sick satisfaction of stalking him down unawares. Tiger chose not to rule that out, based on what he knew about the wilderwood. Instead, he focused on continuing upstream. Just keep moving, just keep moving, just keep moving… if whatever it was didn’t attack him, then for the time being it was none of his concern. It was not interfering with his goal of vengeance, therefore it did not warrant his attention. No matter how skin crawling, hair-raising, panic-inducing the thought of something watching him was. He cast his gaze around, searching the shadows for signs of his pursuer, and twice he thought he might have seen the flash of sly yellow eyes deep within the darkness of the overhanging trees across the bank, but he saw nothing definitive and chose to believe it was a trick of the light.
Tigercreek kept moving, even though he was almost positive he was being tailed now. He had seen the same pair of yellow eyes three times now, stalking him across the bank. The only good news for his current situation was that the creature was on the opposite bank to him, which meant there was a river between them. Although depending on what creature it was, the river may not mean much to a hungry vampyr or shifted werewolf. Tiger quickly cast his eyes up, searching for the moon in the trees, gauging how full it was. The moon wasn’t full enough to be a werewolf, it was near its peak but not quite, with only a sliver missing from its brilliance. Whatever was in the woods was not a werewolf. This normally would have been quite a relief, as dogs typically have a good nose and a taste for cats in their territory, but instead, it set a kernel of dread curling within tiger’s stomach. Whatever was out there was not a werewolf, most likely not a witch as they were too far north from the coven’s castle and the sea, so the only thing it could be beyond the wilderwood’s magic gone loose was… Tigercreek audibly swallowed, his throat bobbing with the effort because all of a sudden he was quite parched. Tiger did not dare turn around, he did not dare halt his pace and he certainly did not dare to behave as if he knew he was being tailed. There was no reason to suspect that this creature would attack him (other than, all of the other cases of any of the cats he knew being drug into the wilderwood and then never seen again... Disregarding those cases of course) Whatever it was could simply be curious, or it could be a trick of the light.. Or it could want to eat you. Tiger shook his head angrily, the intrusive thoughts swarming him with worst-case scenarios and what-ifs. He would not balk, he would not falter, he would make it to the clearing and he would hunt down the monster that had taken his mate from him. Tigercreek began to repeat that line, holding to it fast as a mantra even while his skin crawled and every instinct in his body told him to flee from these blasted woods if he had any common sense at all. The truth of the matter was that tigercreek really didn’t have much sense, at least not in his grieving, half-exhausted, sleep-deprieved state. He was singular-minded, and it was within that mind that he found the drive to keep moving forward. So tiger continued to pull himself through the creek, despite the fact that he could be being tracked by something that wanted to kill him, or even the very thing he was hoping to hunt in the first place.
He wouldn’t know until he got there, right?
It was two hours later before tigercreek saw the runestone his mate had spoken about. The great, spiraling, carved stone of magic jutted out of the middle of the clearing. The river he currently trod through surged beside it, the moonlight itself seemed to make the carvings on the runestone flash with brilliance and ancient magic. The moon, just as promised, aligned perfectly at the top of the runestone, seeming to top the cool grey with a crown f brilliant blue and white. It might have been beautiful, he might have admired it, he might have even stopped and attempted to memorize it so that he might recite its beauty to foxglove later and get it memorialized in the cave of memories, but he was not here to reminisce. Nor was he here to admire the beauty of wild magic. The prettiest things in nature were often the most deadly. The brightest mushrooms and insects often being the most poisonous, capable of felling a cat with simply a whiff. Ancient magic was no different – all beauty and pretty flashes, but all that beauty was simply a warning that it was far more dangerous than it appeared. With a heave of breath, tigercreek finally stepped into the clearing where his mate had said she was going to hunt for herbs. Immediately he noted their strong scent of them, Indicating that her hunch that herbs grew plentifully in this clearing had been correct. That had been another thing tigercreek had been super hesitant about, the fact that she hadn’t even known for sure whether these herbs and cobwebs would have been in the clearing in the first place. The whole thing had simply been a tip from a wandering traveler who had long since left the clans. It had been a last-ditch effort to save lives that had ended up taking three instead of saving any. Tigercreek felt rage coil in his belly, but he pushed through it, striding forward and onto the opposite bank of the clearing, closest to the runestone. He took in the clearing quickly, his eyes flashing as he stared at the long shadows longest. The almost-full moon shone brightly in the sky, stars twinkling above him. Before him stood the runestone in all its towering glory. It was a mammoth of rock, carved with intricate symbols that had existed far earlier than him and would exist long after he was gone. What ancient things had this great stone seen? What horrors? What beauty? It was times like these when tigercreek wished so desperately that inanimate objects could talk. There was so much history contained in the immovable, the same could be said of the ancient trees, as thick as mountains deep within the wilderwood and far beyond his gaze. Only rumors existed of them, but somehow tiger knew they were true. Most things said about the wilderwood were likely true, mostly because there was no reason to lie about the beauties and the dangers of such magic. It was wild and untamed and it’s wildness went back to the dawn of time and space, before elmclan the territory had ever been established by iris and the rest. Tigercreek closed his eyes and let a silent prayer drift to the goddess, Lightbringer. He murmured, Grant me wisdom, grant me peace as I hunt for those that have wronged your servant. Conveniently, he left out that he was not exactly acting as her servant – rather that his mate had. His mate had been a devout follower of the stars and the ancestor’s religion. She had taken tiger to many meetings with the dead, had encouraged him to read ancient texts and to pray with her among the branches of the entwined elm as she shared tongues with her ancestors. Tigercreek hadn’t had the heart to tell her that he had long since been banished from the ancestral realm.. That no ancestors had ever appeared to him at the tree, and that they never would. She would have been devastated, but more than that, she would have sought a way to change it, and tigercreek had never wanted it to change. He didn’t care what some blasted old cat thought about him or his current decisions, he had only ever cared about his mate’s opinion and what she thought about him. She had loved him, even though he had been flawed and rejected by the very stars she held so dear.. He only hoped she was watching over him now, with those ancestors she loved so much, because he knew he would likely not be joining her among the stars.. Tiger felt anguish wash over him like a wave as he stepped around the great runestone and began sniffing around for the faint scent of blood, for her scent, or for the scent of the two patrollers who had gone with her. All three had been returned to camp four days ago, they had been buried the day after, and it had taken two days for tigercreek to plan his leave and departure for the wilderwood. He had wanted to ensure that his daughter had arrangements, and had wanted to make sure he had an alibi for a few days so that no one questioned him when he did not return to camp the next day or if his clan happened to find his nest cold and abandoned. He had feigned wanting to visit his mate’s grave multiple times over the following days, so that assumption at least would buy him a couple of hours at most. The last thing he wanted was sequoiastar ordering warriors after him, to drag him back by his scruff and scold him for such a reckless action. He would rather the monsters of the wilderwood eat him than for him to be taken back to his clan and scolded like a cowardly child. He let out a deep exhale as his nose caught on a scent familiar to him – mint, stardust, and the smell of pine – his mate had been here. He tailed it almost immediately, ignoring the tall grasses of the field, the flowers swaying in a breeze, and the rustle of the trees as fireflies took to the skies around him, lighting his path forward. He scented blood, this only drove him further, anguish in his heart as he thought about her. Yes, this way, the scent seemed to beckon as he swerved around trees jutting in the center of the clearing, and navigated through tall grasses. Herbs here, she must have gathered some, and then circled back around to her companions – his thoughts trailed off as he caught the scent of her companions. Companions? Shock ricocheted through him as he scented her companions, except one scent was far fresher than the others. It was the scent of ebonyowl, a young black tomcat who had only recently been minted a warrior. He had been found in the woods, starving and afraid, and had quickly been taken in by the fussy queens of elmclan. He had thrived, and it had hurt the clan’s heart when dawn patrol had found him and returned him to rest among the honored elmclan warriors in the valley of the dead. Except, this scent was recent… like very recent. Recent enough that it had to have been in the past couple of days, except that was impossible because he had sat vigil with ebonyowl the entire night and had helped bury him. He had lowered ebonyowl into the grave they had dug alongside his mate and had mourned him just as any other. He had been well and truly dead, of that tigercreek had had no doubt, at least, not until now.
Tigercreek stared at the scent, and then turned a circle, retaking a whiff of it. He chose to walk away and then come back to it, certain that it was simply a trick of his nose and not the fresh scent of a very much alive, ebonyowl wandering through the wilderwood in the middle of the night a mere hours ago. It was too fresh. No, this was a trick of the wilderwood. Tigercreek shook his head sharply, breathing coming in sharp gasps as he turned two more circles and fixed his wide eyes in panic at the woods around him, darting to the shadows and praying once more to the ancestors that nothing would come out and scare him. This was a trick of the wilderwood. The wilderwood knew what he was out to do, and it was protecting its own by covering up the tracks of the vampyr that had killed his mate and clanmates… yes. This was simply a trick of the wilderwood. But what if it isn’t? It was well and truly impossible. Tiger had buried ebonyowl himself unless they had buried some random cat that happened to fit the build, the scent, the height and weight of their fallen friend. It was impossible, and yet some instinct deep down inside seemed to howl. He raged against it, straining against the thought. Yes, he could see the events of the night unfolding now as clearly as he could see the daylight or the fireflies rising from the tall grass on a clear summer eve.
His mate, ebonyowl, and his fellow patroller move into the clearing, their noses down searching for herbs. His mate dashes around the bend, eager to snatch up some herbs she had just scented while the two patrollers fetch cobwebs from the bushes nearby. There is a horrible screeching, a noise that sends shivers down the spine and is like claws raking across his brain. The pair immediately dash for his mate, but she is already gone. It is as if the wind itself has taken her, and all that is left is her scent left on the mint herbs, her favorite herbs, herbs she had intended to bring back for tigercreek. Tears well in tigercreek’s eyes, but he blinks them away, watching as the two patrollers dash about frantically. They are terrified, and the malicious creature hunting them in the woods takes great delight in their terror. Drained of life, his mate is left in the clearing nearby, tiger is led to believe that she had been taken up into the trees until the creature was finished toying and went down to hunt the two patrollers. It takes ebonyowl’s companion first, dragging him horribly slowly into the treeline, sending ebonyowl frantically howling and racing in the opposite direction. Tigercreek felt anger flurry under the surface of his skin as he watches the phantom form of ebonyowl race away from the clearing and his fallen clanmates, but he also recognizes that ebonyowl is nothing more than a child. It is here that tigercreek follows the scent of ebonyowl’s terror out of the clearing and through the woods, racing like ebonyowl might have as he fled the monster that could easily outpace him with mere strides.
Heart in his throat, tigercreek follows the scent of ebonyowl to a smaller clearing where ebonyowl is caught by the monster. He is bitten but is not killed. Ebonyowl fights valiantly, and manages to make it past the border of the wilderwoods and into elmclan, but collapses shortly after. This is where the dawnpatrol finds him, and they comfort him until he passes in their arms. The dawn patrol follows the scent of ebony’s terror back to the very clearing tigercreek now stands in. Tigercreek feels his chest rising and falling quickly as the vision of the past fades and he has left once again in the clearing in which he started.. Except for this time he's staring at the figure of a black feline, sliding through the shadows easily. The cat slips from shadow to physical and then turns its ebony face to him. Flashing golden eyes stare at him, and tigercreek’s pulse seems to thunder in his throat as he stares at the face of ebonyowl. Ebonyowl stares at him, unrecognizing. The black feline flashes a wide-toothed grin, too-sharp fangs glinting under the near-full moon. Tigercreek shook his head and stumbled back a few steps.
“Ebonyowl..” he murmurs anguishedly, as the pieces seem to click in his mind. Ebony has been turned. He was bitten, but he was not killed by the creature and therefore has turned into the very thing that has destroyed his mate and his friends.. This thing isn’t ebonyowl. The not-ebonyowl simply cocks it’s head slightly, that over-confident grin still plastered across his dark muzzle. He is nothing more than a shadow as he slips back into the trees, and tigercreek feels his stomach tighten. There is a very real threat present now, and unfortunately, it now comes in the form of one of his dear friends… He stumbles backward, his eyes flashing to every shadow, every slight rustle of the grass, every movement. All of it could be the threat of his friend coming to finish him off.
“Ebonyowl?” he calls out into the darkness, despite himself. He knows deep down that his caring friend is not in there, that his caring friend has been reduced to a husk of what he used to be, and that his friend will certainly not spare him when the time comes. Vampyrs are notoriously ruthless, and this thing that was once his friend is certainly no longer the caring one he once was. He didn’t even seem to register that tigercreek was there. A chill runs down his spine as he begins to think more critically about his interaction with ebonyowl, and how ebonyowl had practically seized him up like he would a meal… geez. Tigercreek shook his pelt out, doing his best to ignore the sudden terror that he might have to re-kill his friend. Two monsters in one night… Tigercreek was beginning to think he was in over his head as his gaze flashed to a pair of golden eyes peering at him from a tree that was dangerously close to where he currently stood.
“Ebonyowl, get back! I won’t tell you again, I will kill you for the second time. Your spirit must be restless, you should join the ancestors where you belong.” Tiger hissed, scrambling away from the treeline and closer to the runestone in the center of the clearing. The not-ebonyowl simply let out a dry laugh.
“Oh Tigercreek. If only you could see what I am now. If only you could see what we all might be if you’d let me! Elmclan would be unstoppable.. This much power.. I can hear so many things and smell so many things. I’m strong and fast. I can practically clear this clearing in one bound if I wished…” he trailed off. His voice sounded raspy and wrong, and it was clear to tiger that this was definitely not the friend he knew. “You’re not well my friend.. Let me release you so that your spirit may join the ancestors. I shouldn’t have buried you earlier.” Ebonyowl seemed to undergo an internal struggle, physically shaking from his position on the outstretched tree limb. “You were the one who buried me?” Tiger shook his head softly, suddenly afraid that ebony might blame him for having to dig himself out, and he wanted to avoid an altercation if he could. “No, no. We thought you were dead, we knew you had been bitten but we weren’t aware that the bite could allow you to re-come alive.” Ebony blinked, considering this, and then bore his teeth in a vicious, menacing smile. Tiger had never been so afraid of someone so young before. It was as if in the span of only a blink, the tom had lunged, claws outstretched he had snapped his jaws so close to tigercreek’s whiskers tiger physically jumped. Ebonyowl cackled, watching tigercreek hiss and snarl as he backed away frantically. “See how fast I can move. So much faster than when i was a warrior..” the not-cat trailed off, thinking deeply as if he was reminiscing on fond memories. “Those were the days.” “You only turned three days ago.” Tiger pointed out, frustrated by his friend’s teasing and the fact that his friend was not his friend. “Let me take away your suffering, ebony.”
“Suffering?” the cat spat, turning on him in one sharp instant. One moment, tiger was upright, the next he was on the ground with a sting on his cheek. It took him a moment to realize that ebony had raked his claws across his face. “SUFFERING?” the cat repeated. “I’ve never lived before now.” he stated matter-of-factly “If you’re good, maybe i’ll let you live too.” Tigercreek shook with rage he did not know existed. “I would rather rot in the pits of the dark one’s hold than let you turn me into whatever you are.” The creature blinked, but a grin broke his surprise. “Fine, if you wish to die- I’ll kill you.”
Not-ebonyowl lunged, claws slashing at the open air because Tiger had been baiting his friend. If there was anything he had learned in the past few minutes it was that he could not one-on-one fight ebonyowl, not in this enhanced form. He had to gain the advantage somehow, and tigercreek saw his advantage in the form of the river they were currently squabbling beside. Tigercreek launched himself for the outstretched limbs of an ancient tree by the riverbank, squabbling up the side of it as if death itself nipped at his heels (and it very well did, as ebonyowl was very close on his heels) he clawed the bark desperately, and then launched himself at the exposed limb, dangling himself over the rushing water below. Ebonyowl cackled, standing where the tree branch met the tree and staring predatorily at tigercreek as he edged along the branch away from him. “This was quite the foolish decision. Goodbye, Tigercreek.” he growled, and then launched himself at tiger. This time, tiger was prepared, and ducked away, dodging easily. Ebonyowl let out a screech and then tumbled off the edge of the branch, straight into the roaring rapids below. Tigercreek had quickly assessed his opponent, and had figured out from their brief conversation that ebony was still getting used to his new form, he was far more strong, far faster, sure, but he was clumsy, only three days turned. His overconfidence was his downfall, as he disappeared beneath the current. Tigercreek clung to the branch and scrambled along the edge until he was able to descend the tree safely. He let out a large breath of relief, but deep down he knew the fight was not over yet. The vampyre that had done this to his friend was still out there, which meant tiger was not done quite yet.
“May the Ancestors guide your spirit home, ebonyowl. You did not deserve this fate.” he dipped his head respectfully, sending a silent prayer to iris to watch over the young tom cat before he chose to return to the clearing. Now he had to focus, mostly because tiger was worried that the death of one would lure the rest of them in. He began sniffing around the pace and made his way to the tree where he was certain his mate was snatched. The mint still had her scent on it, and it sent pangs of sorrow down his spine and squeezed his heart. With determination in his eyes, he scaled the nearby tree and began searching around it, finally catching a faint whiff of what he was searching for. An unfamiliar cat (or, not a cat in this case.) its scent was faint but there, it smelled of copper, limestone, and dust. Likely because this cat had come from the godfrey’s hollow. Tiger forced himself to pause and think. Godfrey’s hollow was a great distance away from where he currently was, it was the vampire’s home but it was still quite a distance away. What would draw one so close to the elmclan border? There had only been two recorded instances of vampires in elmclan, one had been the original, the dark one himself, and the other had been a case in which a vampire had come to elmclan for help and had ended up saving lives instead of taking them. The loss was rare because the vampires didn’t hunt this far out, if anything the rogues of the ruins were more likely to be hunted because their physical base of operations was closer and they bordered the wild wood.. But in a grove so close to the border? Tigercreek fidgeted, unsettled by this development. Did elmclan deserve to know?
No. He would not lose sight of the focus of tonight, which was to avenge his mate’s death. He had set ebonyowl’s soul at peace, that was all that mattered ultimately, but now he had to set his own at peace. He knew he would forever be restless if he allowed this vampire to get away with taking his mate’s life, and so, Tiger began tracking the faint scent of copper and limestone through the trees. Extending his claws, he dug them into the bark of the tree and wiggled his haunch, preparing himself to push off from the tree close to the furthest edge of the grove, onto the tree on the edge of the grove where the scent seemed to lead. With a powerful push of muscle, the tom cat hurled himself across the gap and managed to dig his claws into the extended limbs of the opposite tree. It took great effort, what with tiger being mortal and all, but he had always been a stronger tom than average. Hence why his prefix had ultimately been named tiger (that and his wildcat-esq pelt, but he chose to ignore the inaccurate depiction of it considering he did not have a stripe on him..) He began tracking the scent and was disturbed when it lingered with the mint scent of his mate. Clearly, she had been dragged quite a few feet before she had been re-dropped back into the clearing. Pain at this thought shot through his mind, but it only seemed to feed his anger as he continued to follow the trail through the trees as best he could. Tiger was clumsy though, and he realized just how much a scene he must have been making when he shook a branch a little too hard and a nest of slumbering bluebirds squawked indignantly and launched themselves into the sky and out of his reach.
“Sorry!” he murmured apologetically. The birds weren’t responsible, he was currently hunting the one responsible. He let out a gentle breath, but that breath quickly turned into a gasp as a flash of white streaked across the trees in front of him and disappeared into the trees just as easily as ebonyowl had disappeared with his black coat. It was almost unnerving, such a solid white coat disappearing into the thick foliage. He felt his chest constrict, and he knew deep down that he had to follow that flash of white if he wanted to avenge his mate. With a feral snarl, he put aside his exhaustion and launched himself from tree to tree, following glimpses, the scent, anything he could find that might lead him in the direction of the attacker who was currently fleeing from him. Or.. were they fleeing from him? He paused his desperate chase quickly as he realized this was exactly the MO of a vampire. Lure the prey into an easier hunting ground. Panic seemed to set in as Tiger realized that he was not the predator in this situation.. The one he was hunting was. He stumbled back a few feet terror in his eyes as he almost slipped and fell down the tree branch he had landed on. No, no no.. he would not be coerced so easily. Think Tiger think! His brain felt as if it was going a million miles a minute and he whirled around as a laugh drifted between the trees. It seemed as if the trees themselves were the ones laughing, the voice came from everywhere and all at once.
“Oh such a pretty little thing, such devotion for one already lost. Tell me, did you mourn her? Does it keep you up at night little cat? Wondering how she suffered? Oh do not worry, I did not make her suffer for long.” The creature cooed, and he felt that coiled snake of rage launch itself upright, ready to strike at this white cat who DARED taunt him over the death of his beloved mate.
“Come out you coward! Show your face, you fiend. Monster, vicious creature of the night!” he demanded, turning circles from the tree he stood in. This was a poor place to be in, he was vulnerable here, exposed and out of his league. He needed to take back the battlefield, but he felt rooted to the spot.. Helpless and alone. He felt his chest tighten and heave, as he took deep breaths, trying to force himself to calm down and think logically about the situation. The creature simply laughed at him, it seemed as if it were cooing at a baby and not not stalking it’s next meal.
“So brave, but ultimately foolish. I am a creature of the night, you are right to be afraid little cat.” From between the trees across from him, a stark white figure slipped between the trees. Fangs as white as bone glistened as the cat smiled. Haunting, Deadly, Unalive, Ancient, Predator.. All words to describe the feline that leisurely moved through the trees. All of these words immediately flashed through Tigercreek’s head as every hair on his body stood on end. This was a predator, a true predator. Not a bear, not a coyote, not a wolf – a predator beyond time and space. A being beyond comprehension or conscious, and Tigercreek was most certainly going to die. “I am as old as the trees you stand upon, and I will be here long after you are gone, little one. I have devoured worlds, and I will devour yours as well.. If this pathetic wood was not keeping me here.” it grumbled, almost to itself, before flashing another predatory grin at tiger.
“You took her from me. I will avenge that debt.” the creature cocked its head to the side as if it had to think about what it had eaten a mere three days ago. “Oh, you mean the lovely-smelling one? The one who smells of mint and…” the creature trailed off, extending its nose closer to him, its nostrils flaring… smelling… him? Tigercreek felt his heart leap into his throat as he let out a vicious warning snarl. The creature simply laughed. “Yes, she smelled of mint and she smelled like you. I wondered how long it would take for her partner to come wandering. They always do.” It inclined it’s head to him as if he was merely sharing a conversation with a fellow acquaintance and not an ancient being currently sizing him up to become lunch. “You took her from me.” his voice wavered and broke, tears staining his fur and his vision as he stared at this remorseless being that couldn’t even remember his mate’s scent. Didn’t even remember his own mate. He had loved her so passionately, had loved her so fervently and this thing couldn’t even be bothered to remember her. It had no idea what it had taken from him. His claws dug angrily into the bark beneath his paws. The creature cocked it’s head again, it’s eyes teasing. “I suppose. I was hungry after all.” He shook his head angrily. “You didn’t have to take her.” The creature snorted, eyes rolling as it stepped closer, claws slowly, lazily extending on it’s left paw. He watched it warily, and stepped backwards to avoid it, only to realize he was on a precariously thin branch and that there was nowhere for him to step. His eyes widened as he realized where he was, the not-cat before him grinned as if it too realized the predicament he had gotten himself into.
Trapped! His mind howled that the beast before he had managed to lure him into a trap and he had gone off and fallen right into it! Lured by his own feelings for his mate and now he was going to be no better than her.. Just another corpse for elmclan to find.. He was imagining the look on his daughter’s face as she beheld her father, dead just like her mother, and nothing to show for it except for that pathetic bone-white grin on the vampire’s face.
No! He would not go so easily, there had to be a way out of this. He had to survive this, if not he had to at least survive the first round.. He would not go so easily.
With this thought in mind, Tigercreek let himself drop to the ground. His sudden rush of movement both startled and delighted the vampire, who let out a wicked laugh. “Oh I do so love playing with my food, please, entertain me little cat. Perhaps I will make your end swift as mercy.” It’s voice seemed to whisper through the earth itself, as if the trees were straining to hear and carry it’s voice to him as if the trees themselves desired his death.
The trees have eyes, they are always watching. Tigercreek felt himself shudder at the thought as he forced himself to break out into a dead sprint deeper into the wilderwood. All the while he could feel the creature growing closer could feel her laughter bearing into his skin, could feel her snapping at his heels as if the wind and the forest and the trees grew closer together. As if it all worked against him in order to feed the ancient one. He was but a sacrifice in maintaining the balance, he was but a morsel, a scrap to the ancient being who called these woods home and he would not make it out of these woods alive. Not if the woods had anything to say about it. These thoughts instilled such a primal terror in Tigercreek that they seemed to drive his feet faster, flying over exposed roots to trip him, clawing through exposed bushes even as they scratched his skin and left his scent and blood all over them. Nothing would stop him, nothing would keep him from the clearing. Nothing would keep him from the goal of ending this ancient being for what it had done to his life – he would die. He had accepted this, he felt no remorse or pain in the thought, but if he was going to die he would not lay down and become a willing morsel.. No. he would fight and scratch and claw and drag this thing down with him so that no one else had to experience what he did.. So that no one else would have to feel the pain of having their mate ripped from them. Determination filled his bones, and Tigercreek could have sworn he sensed surprise from the ancient being behind him as he felt himself fly across the ground, swifter and far more sure than before. As if the winds of iris herself filled his sails and he was simply a vessel for her power. The light bringer had blessed his journey and she was now carrying him home on the winds of light and laughter and love. The malicious energy behind him seemed to struggle to pick up his rapid pace, but he soon entered the clearing he had first entered, the clearing where he had ended Ebonyowl and had first picked up the scent of the energy behind him. He dashed past the runestone, ignoring it when it flared to life with ancient energy, assuming it was simply the powerful essence of the creature behind him and not the fact that Tigercreek had in fact been blessed by the Lightbringer.
Fly, Fly, Fly! His brain seemed to chant as he launched over rock and root, leading his quarry to where he intended. He was the hunted, but he knew how quickly the hunted could become the hunters. Cats did it all the time, chasing out bears and wolves from elmclan territory as if these creatures could not snap them up in heartbeats. Granted, they usually weren’t being chased by ancient creatures of malicious intention (who most definitely want to eat you) through an ancient forest that wants to support said eating, but Tigercreek didn’t have time to dwell on the intricacies of the situation, instead, he was leading the creature straight to the rapids.. And the waiting drop beyond. Tigercreek felt as if the air itself was in support of his pursuit, and as his claws dug into the soft earth of the riverbank he thundered along, he began to piece together the rest of his plan. He made for a rocky outcropping, the waterfall just ahead, the rapids leading straight to the waterfall, and then a straight fall into the unknown. He did not know how far down it fell, he just had to pray to iris it would be enough. Deep in his bones though, he knew it would be enough. As much as this creature boasted about being ancient and old, it was still capable of dying. He perched himself upon the rock, and waited, staring with bated breath as the ancient white creature lumbered out of the trees shortly after him. It huffed and puffed, staring at tigercreek with eyes as wide as the moon overhead. “You-” it rasped heaving and shuddering. It rolled it’s shoulders and hissed, exposing it’s teeth and flattening it’s ears. Claws immediately came unsheathed, but it remained where it stood, away from the rapids at the base of a tree only a few fox lengths away.
“How did you manage to fly with the speed of the wind at your heels? What is this magic?” Tiger shook his head, a grin flashing across his face.
“I am the wind, and I am the rain and I am the light. I have come to avenge my mate, and the evil of the world will not stop me. Not even one as ancient as you.” It shook its head in denial, a smile crossing it’s face as if to taunt him, but it’s expression was pulled taut. It did not believe it’s teasing, and there was a wariness to it’s stance now. He had outsmarted the beast, and now it was wary of what it might discover. “You have done nothing of the sort little cat. Morsel. I thought I would enjoy this game but I’ve actually grown quite bored.. It trailed off, scenting the air and turning back to grin at him. As if it suddenly knew a dark secret. “So you’ve met my new little friend? But it seems you also bested him. How foolish of him, I rather enjoyed his company, although his creation was an accident. I wanted a snack but he was too boney for my taste and.. Well.” the creature shrugged, shying away as if it were embarrassed it had let ebonyowl go. There was no remorse in it’s eyes, only a keen understanding that what it was facing now was no mere mortal. This was a mortal fueled by revenge and apparently the watch of it’s Gods, and now it was being more careful. Clearly, however, it did not see tigercreek as much of a threat, for it still prowled closer and it still gave him that sly, over-confident grin he had seen within ebonyowl earlier. “You are far more interesting than your mate. You’ve put up such an interesting fuss. I wonder how you will taste..” it murmured, looking off into the distance as if it was now distracted by imagining how he might taste. Tigercreek flexed his claws and gagged internally, turning his gaze briefly behind him, at the rapids and the churning of the mist. He stared into the water eyeing his ragged expression and the terror and rage in his eyes. He did not recognize himself. This was not the same cat that had looked at his expression earlier in the river from elmclan before the night had begun. This was a cat fueled by vengeance and pain, a cat that would do anything to bring back a mate that would never return, would do anything to see her again.. Tigercreek squeezed his eyes shut as he stared at the beast before him and gave a vicious snarl in return greeting. “I am a beast fueled by vengeance, and your words mean nothing to me ancient one. You made a mistake by making a meal of my mate, and I am here to give her spirit peace by taking your life. The ancient laws require it – I will end your life in exchange for her safe passage into the ancestral grounds.” The creature tensed but said nothing, a laugh bubbling up in it’s throat.
“You will take my life? How naive little cat. The ancient laws do not apply to me, I was there when they began to be used. They were created by pathetic mortals who thought they could control the wildness of the wilderwood. They saw my teeth as you will soon see mine, and it will be the last thing you see as you wander this wood forever a lost soul. I will curse you to never walk upon the ancestral plane you pathetic worm, and I grow quite bored of this annoying little chase you’ve sent me on.” It prowled closer, a thick, sly, grin on it’s face. It believed it had already won, and had no idea that he felt the power of iris flooding within his bones, that he felt the comfort of all those he who had been lost within him. It had no idea that he was about to make good on his threats, and that he would certainly avenge his mate. For the time he had lost with her, for her suffering at the hands of this heartless beast and all of the mortals who had died to it over the centuries. He would make it pay. The ancient laws were simple, a life for a life. Murder is repaid by killing the murderer and vice versa. He felt his claws dig into the stone beneath him, and Tiger reminisced on all that he would miss. Coming out into the woods tonight he had been prepared to die, but now as he looked death in the face, he had never felt more wrong. He thought of his daughter, who would never know what had happened to her father. She would never know he had died bravely, defending her from the horrors of this world and avenging her mother’s death. He would never see her named an apprentice or meet her mentor, nor would he ever see her crowned a warrior or whatever path she chose in life. Regret and sorrow welled up in his chest as he watched the pale coat of the ancient warrior before him tense, preparing to spring and strike him down it’s claws outstretched. He thought about the gentle moments with his mate, in which they would lie down in the fields of flowers together and groom one another. He thought about the scent of mint and the scent of fire and how much he truly loved her. He thought about the gaping hole in his heart, but most importantly he felt the surety of his actions and felt strength like he had never felt before. He could feel them now, all around him, holding their breath as the world slowed down and the creek seemed to freeze in it’s tracts. The ancestors were with him, iris was with him, they were all with him and they rejoiced as the ancient being, in all it’s wrath and knowing launched itself at him, claws outstretched to kill him. They watched as the two tussled on the rock, as the pair clawed and lashed and slashed, as the divine strength of iris filled tigercreek until he was almost a god himself, as he pushed himself towards the edge, still grappling with the ancient, and as he pushed himself and the ancient off the edge and into the spiraling abyss below.
He knew then that he was loved, and that despite his reservations.. The ancestors had already made preparations to welcome him home.
![https://bettafishforsale.co/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/BZY09293.jpg?v=1627542912https://bettafishforsale.co/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/BZY09293.jpg?v=1627542912]Betta](https://bettafishforsale.co/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/BZY09293.jpg?v=1627542912https://bettafishforsale.co/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/BZY09293.jpg?v=1627542912){kind=link}
