Vote Update:
Spiderclaw: |||| (4)
Rosefeather: |||(3)
Harrierheart: | (1)
Kestrelfern: |(1)
9/14 have voted
Votes are now closed, Spiderclaw for exile.
The Exile wrote: Honeystar sat withdrawn from the camp, having heard the news that one of their loyal warriors had been hit by a monster on the Thunderpath. Not only were the persistent whispers of that, though, but that some cat may have pushed him onto the path. This made no sense to the leader, so with decision, he got to his paws and padded onto the High Ledge, calling a meeting. Once every cat had gathered, he spoke, "It seems as though we have lost a warrior. Abstaining, found by Stealthvixen dead on the Thunderpath. It also seems that the lot of you believe it was not an accident. So I ask .. what would you like to do about it?"
The Clan erupted with mews, some angry, some concerned. The general consensus seemed to be a vote, to oust the cat that did it. "Then, who?" Honeystar posed the question, eyes staring unblinking at the cats gathered below them. Names were thrown out all over the place, but the one that was most prominent was Spiderclaw. Honeystar met their mate's eyes, though both seemed to be more disappointed than surprised or confused.
He frowned and nodded, leaping off the High Ledge and moving to stand beside Spiderclaw, "Very well. If you truly believe it was him, which it can't have been as he was with me the entire time, I resign as your leader and will be leaving with him."
Spiderclaw's kittybrows knit, "What?" he whispered into his mate's ear. "You can't resign."
"I can," Honeystar persisted, turning to his deputy. "Kestrelfern will make a great leader."
He turned to walk away with Spiderclaw at his side, but Stripepaw, who was standing next to his brother, mewed, "Dads?"
Spiderclaw stopped in his tracks, staring at his sons with a frown, "I'm sorry .. I - we must leave."
Honeystar nodded, moving forward to lick both of their heads, "You can always come visit us outside the borders," he turned to Spiderclaw and with a look of reassurance they both padded out of camp.
"No! You can't leave!" Stripepaw cried attempting to run after them.
Twistedthorn did his best to hold his brother back, but was unable due to his physical condition, "Stripepaw .. Stripepaw stop .."
Stealthvixen rushed forward to block the apprentice, putting her large white paw up in front of him, "Oh, child. I'm so sorry. Come with me, alright? We'll walk your fathers out."
Stripepaw looked on in decision, but agreed, "Okay," he whispered, following the elder fox out of camp.
The murderer looked on the scene with a blank face, though they wanted badly to grin at their work. Another would happen soon, they knew, as StarClan had said. Who, they didn't know, but it had to be soon. They hadn't intended for Honeystar to leave, however ... that could be a minor setback. For now, they’d just watch the aftermath unfold.
Your leader has left along with your choice, ThunderClan. Was that the right decision?
The Kill wrote: The murderer was awake, silently waiting for the rest of the Clan to fall under the wing of sleep. Once they were sure the camp was still, they rose to their paws and snuck out of their den, bumping into Rosefeather on the way. This is who StarClan wants me to kill next? they thought, analyzing the she-cat before mewing, “Rosefeather!” they moved to the side of the she-cat, breathing in the fresh air of the night and looking around. “What are you doing up this late?”
Rosefeather startled at the run-in, a bit confused herself as to why the murderer was up, though it seemed unimportant to ask so she dismissed it, “Just thinking,” she murmured.
“About what?”
“About what happened to Abstaining,” Rosefeather mewed quietly. “I don’t believe Honeystar would leave with a cat he wasn’t sure was a murderer or not, so really I doubt Spiderclaw killed him.”
The murderer analyzed the target further, trying to grasp why StarClan had chosen her to die. Perhaps her lineage? Or maybe it was random ... but StarClan always had reasons, they knew.
“... I’m just not sure who did it,” Rosefeather finished, a look of distant sorrow on her face.
“Well I know,” the murderer frowned, making dead eye contact with the warrior.
Rosefeather became confused, beginning to say “Wha-“
“It was me,” they whispered, launching themselves onto the large warrior, trying to keep her pinned down. It was draining too much energy, so quickly the killer explained, “This is what they want me to do,” immediately, they slashed her throat with an elegant — as elegant as possible while struggling to hold her still — swipe, backing away and looking down at their work, and watching her cease to live. “Goodbye, Rosefeather.”
After staring at the warrior’s limp, bloody, lifeless body, for awhile, the murderer repeated, “This is what they want me to do,” before washing their paws off in the stream and quietly returning to their den in wait of the tragic morning that would come.
Setback averted. Quite minor, after all.
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