- username elliott.
clan the hawthorns
quest one draw or write about how your clan mourns death. are there any particular ceremonies?
Everyone could feel the death as soon as it happened. Not physically, not mentally, not spiritually, but innately. It was as tangible as the air around them, there but not visible to the naked eye, filling their lungs until they ached. It wasn't often that death happened on the island. Many of the cats that resided in the four biomes tended to be younger or healthy, the skilled work of the multiple medics ⎯⎯ all from different backgrounds and all with different knowledge ⎯⎯ keeping them from staying sick or injured. But this wasn't normal times. War had happened and now war was over, leaving the remaining cats with spinning heads and hurt in their hearts.
It didn't seem like that many cats had died, yet the impact was substantial. Scorchfur and Spiderthroat both gone, just like that. While most cats were effected by the sight of their tribemates' mangled and still carcasses, their families took the brunt of it. Russetflame and Willowfang watched with sunken eyes and downtrodden expressions as their father was laid to rest, while Orchidshriek sobbed into Asphodeldance's shoulder at the betrayal of one of their sons and what it had cost him, what it had cost them.
Scorchfur had fought on the right side. Defending the cats he had committed his life to when he had sought refuge after the crumbling of his former tribe, the cats he had spent moons getting to know and befriending. As soon as he had heard of the rebels, he had joined them, agreeing with their cause. Poppystar had not been an example of a good leader, of a role model or of a cat worthy of respect. He'd always fight for what was right.
Spiderthroat, on the other hand, had given his life in exchange for his ambition. His greed and need for recognition had driven him to the dark side, had left him vulnerable for those seeking patsies to take control over and rule. He had believed every word whispered to him as long as it had promised greatness and, in the end, it had killed him. A cat that the others had seen grown up, the kitten that once crawled along his father's spine until he could settle between his shoulder blades, was gone, although they couldn't recognize him.
For the first and final time, the Hawthorns and the rebels banded together. Together, they gave the families some peace as they cleaned up the bodies, hiding evidence of the battle they had just fought against each other. Apprentices and queens gathered flowers by the roots while the warriors dug graves deep enough to keep the predators from picking off of the carcasses, two holes beneath a large fern. All together, they lowered the bodies of their friends and loved ones into the earth, covering them with their mud-stained paws and laying the flowers on top so that they'd continue to grow and flourish. Some life in the absence of death.
It was silent, for a long time, other than the soft murmurings of siblings speaking to the air in hopes of getting the message to their father and the heartbreaking cries of a mother wondering where she had gone wrong to lead her eldest son straight into the paws of a dark ghost. All of the other cats found solace in each other, washing the blood off to make everyone clean of all wrongdoings they had committed underneath the control of another.
Scorchfur and Spiderthroat hadn't been the only things to die that night. Alongside them left the old traditions, the history and the lore. Everything was washed anew alongside their deaths, dismantling everything the group had ever known. There was no longer a Hawthorns and a rebel. Instead, there was a multitude of cats, all lost and feeling alone despite the friends surrounding them. There was no structure, no laws and no rules. Usually, the saying went that lawless lands were the most dangerous ones, but each and every soul in that clearing knew that laws could be just as harmful. They had all seen it firsthand and were all witnessing the aftermath.
It was time to start new. It was time to build from the ground up, just as many cats had done before.
word count 710 words
quest three write about how your clan celebrates the arrival of new kits.
"Is she okay? Are they okay? Do I need to grab more prey?" Bearleaf's voice was audible from the other side of camp, each word laced with the same amount of both awe and worry. For the past moon or two, he had been practically vibrating around camp, finishing his warrior tasks both hurriedly and messily in order to duck into the nursery to check on Elkpounce.
Since the news of the feisty she-cat's expecting had hit everyone's ears, the air in the camp had changed. Every cat had been happily chattering amongst themselves about the excitement of new kits, of the evidence that something new could be born in the ashes of history. Elkpounce and Bearleaf had both been through a lot in their lives, such as isolation and death, and yet they had ended up here, starting a family of their own. While the she-cat's joy didn't show much on her face, many could note the pep in her step.
At the father's worrying, Whimsycurl purred. "They are all okay, Bearleaf. Elkpounce is strong and she will recover with rest. As for your kits, all of them are strong and healthy. You don't need to worry about them, although I know you will continue to." The medicine cat had had his fair share of needless worry with his own kit. While Sorrelsting wasn't his by blood, she was his reason for living, the hope that had filled his heart. The reminder of their daughter hit them like a splinter. Oh, how they missed her, even though they knew her move to NightClan was for the best.
"Bearleaf, will you let the poor medicine cat go and get in here? They can't go too long without names." Elkpounce chided from her nest, ears pulling back against her cranium at the exaggeration of her mate. The two made a silly couple, with her calm head and feisty demeanor and his constant worry and goofiness, but it seemed to work perfectly fine. No cat in the world would ever doubt the love that they held for each other.
At the call of his love, the large tom immediately turned, heavy paws thudding against the ground as he rushed to her side. Curling behind her, his tongue rasped over the tuft of fur between her ears, smoothing it down as he stared at the bundles near her belly. Five kits, all carrying some shade of brown, all a mix of him and the cat he loved most in the world. Everything he had gone through, every pain and ache, every claw mark that had seared his flesh, was for this. The unadulterated happiness that washed over him at this moment, laying next to the only cat he had and would ever love, staring at the bundles of innocence and sweetness that they had created together.
Bearleaf opened his mouth to respond to her, to babble aimlessly or to come up with something cheesy that would make her swat at his cheek, when suddenly he heard the sound of his own name. He was startled from his dazed state by the sight of Asphodelstar's bright blue pelt, the leader carefully meandering through the hubbub of nests that crowded the nursery as he made his way towards them.
"Mind having a visitor?" Asphodelstar murmured, his own bright eyes landing on the new additions to the Clan. The leader was over the moon that all of them had been born healthy, that they'd all have the chance to become apprentices and continue keeping ThornClan strong. He was also happy for Elkpounce and Bearleaf, of course. He remembered the joy he had felt when Spiderthroat and Sleekcurl had been born, although any mention of the former still filled him with a sense of anguish. Both of his kits were gone now, in one way or another, but that didn't fully take away his happiness.
Elkpounce shook her head, tail curling around her litter. "Not at all. Come." She beckoned him closer with a flick of her tail, the tip of it brushing against the largest of the litter's head and causing her to mewl helplessly at the foreign feeling. The queen was quick to shush her with a soft voice, amusement painting across her face.
The blue leader stared at the litter for a moment as he lowered himself onto his haunches into a sit before his eyes found his warriors, face calm and peaceful. "Do they have names yet?"
Once again, Bearleaf was interrupted before he had a chance to speak, to say that they hadn't gotten a chance yet. Elkpounce's tail tip touched each kit's head as she spoke, voice gentle in a way he hadn't heard before. "Drowsykit, Doekit, Downykit, Drizzlekit and Dizzykit." Then, her head turned, glancing at him from over her shoulder. "Right, Bearleaf?"
There wasn't a doubt in his mind. "Yes, my love. Those are perfect." He purred, the sensation rumbling against her back as he drew his tongue over her head again.
word count 832 words
