ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪɴᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇɴᴇᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛs.

[Rebel Faery]

This story is amazing- so detailed, and quite original. I love how it's set out and its definitely one of my favourites on this site.

I don't suppose you'd mind entering it in my contest?

[moon.]

Thank you <3 I'm going to try and keep writing, but I'm not feeling it right now. I think I'll get something done this weekend...it's complicated. Rose, Moonz, everyone...seriously, thank you so much. I can't write how much your compliments mean to me; I'd have stopped writing this a long time ago if I thought no one liked it. It's a major flaw with my writing, it depends a lot on my ego--which is always inflating and deflating randomly. But it really warms the cockles of my heart when I see my story's bumped up on the "My Posts" list because someone commented. It's the best feeling in the world (right after eating chocolate ice cream). <3

misc - You deserve the comments, miscy. I've never seen any better writing. Everything that anybody has ever said is 100% true. I know sometimes you don't feel good enough, amazing, or even flat out okay, but just remember - everybody else on the face of this planet knows that you are spectacular.

[111misc]

Kat; oh man, thanks. Lets see....well, I try and stick to one particular style of writing. For me, when I read books and write things, I concentrate on adjectives the most. If you use great adjectives, you can do anything, is my mantra. Also, I try and make my characters sound different, with their dialog. Mostly, though, it's just practice. I wish I could tell you more, and I wish you could tell me what you do, because I love the drama you always put into your writing, and your seemingly boundless muse. So I bet this doesn't help at all, but I hope it kind of did. ^^
Rebel; Actually, I'm not into pets on this site, I'm here just for the writing and stories. The contest looks lovely, and thank you so much for the invitation, but I wouldn't really get anything out of it. Besides, there's something to be said about comparing yourself to other writers...I'm sure that if I lost, it'd kill my self esteem. Best to leave those things to the imagination. :)
Rose; Exactly. And it does hinder me, when I'm in a bad place, and even when I'm in a happy place, because I can't write thoughtful, deep things (most of the incredible sentences/things I write are while I'm sitting in my bed crying as I write...I get really into it) at that point. But it's nice to feel you're being noticed, that you're not alone. I'm glad I'm not the only self-obsessed one here, that needs attention to function. But you're right, too. And I'm trying to get away from it. To undo myself from the web to just focus on writing and nothing else; not how it's perceived or how many views I have, or even if I think it's good. It'll take time, I'm sure, but when we figure out how to do it, we'll be so much better writers...and people, too, I bet.
Moonz; As always, thank you, my friend. It means so much to me that you not only read my ramblings, but that you enjoy doing it. <3

[111misc]

I am so alone, and the darkness is so deep...

Cherryfrost stared up into the sky. It was dark, and it was cold, and she felt so alone. The wind lashed at her fur, but it was a warm summer breeze, and that was not why the cat was chilled to the bone. There was something frighteningly empty about accomplishing your dreams. Something hollow had begun to eat away inside her, a maggot at flesh. She was older now, and the magic of the world had begun to fade from her eyes. She looked up and gazed ferociously at the stars, they looked cold, and they didn't fill the blackness that the ever expanding sky threw upon her. There was no moon that night. She looked at them dissapointed, for she did not believe, anymore, in what they were. She could not believe in anything, anymore. Who could believe in magic when everyone they knew had died? When their greatest friend, one who claimed to be beautiful and pure, turned into a nightmare, turned into a ghost.
Cherryfrost lashed her tail, and spun her head away from the night, leaning her chin against her chest fur, breathing heavily and raggedly. It wasn't fair, and she couldn't put her mind around it. It wasn't right, this wasn't right. Memories buffeted her, as waves crash against a shore, striking her with stings and pangs. She remembered the first time she met Fawnpaw, her guardian. She had been fooled, truly, and yet, she only realized that, now. When she was an apprentice, Cherryfrost remembered her craving to learn, her need to be informed on who she was, where she came from, what she could do with her life. She wanted a purpose, and Fawnpaw gave her one. The cat that flitted to her in her dreams, in the form of a beautiful she-cat, younger than her, claimed to have died at Starclan's paws, she tricked her. She told her she wanted to help her, she would train her, make her better, she would save her.
Ambition. That was what it came down to, Cherryfrost realized. Ambition and heart. In the end, she was molded, used and played with like a ball of moss. She thought she was making her own life, she believed in her heart, for so many years, that her life would help others, that she would give them purpose.
And she remembered Wolfspeckle. The sorrow was so heavy upon her heart, the she-cat couldn't even muster up a small sad smile, all she could do was close her eyes for the shame. Her best friend. Her brother. Her enemy, in the end. The calico's ears itched and burned, remembering how she sounded, giving the order for the kill, and her body went weak as her very muscles recalled the way they had leapt upon his corpse, triumphant. She was a coward. She really was a coward. Those were his last words to her, she knew, but not spoken; in his eyes. Cherryfrost was grateful that was his last thought towards her, that he hated her in the end so much he felt nothing for her but animosity. She felt relieved that he could not remember, in his fury towards her and what she'd done to his clan, that they used to be the best of friends. Because if he had remembered, in those last moments when she'd looked into that great warrior's eyes, and she saw the regret he would have felt, she would not be able to bare it, now. And Cherryfrost could bare a lot. She had proven that, at least.
Gone too was Minnowfur, that sly tom. Her first murder, the only one she'd ever had to do herself, out of fury and single minded trust she killed him, with bitterness in her heart and, she recalled, tears in her eyes. He had snarled at her, tried to slash at her, and in his last moments they were strangers. She remembered the awful betrayel he had caused her. Fawnpaw had told her what he was going to do; that he was going to try and fulfill the prophecy that would finally bring an end to goodness, that he wanted to kill her, because he knew she was the key to stopping him. How he had loved Darknose, how he had broken the rules. A cheater. A liar. Deserving to die.
Sunpelt, the pest of her existence, the one cat that caused her strife enough in this world she had hated him her whole life. In the end, she deserved what he did to her, the way he treated her. She deserved so much worse. He, she knew now, was loyal. Was just, unlike her, and was willing to give up his own life for the greater good. He was willing to be the enemy of all, if it meant he could help them. He'd been spying on her. When Cherryfrost had found that out, she'd had him killed, and Darknose, the only one still alive who knew of the danger she was to the world. If she had known before what Cherryfrost had done, she would have taken more action than to spy on her. And with Darknose the prophecy died. And with it, all hope of survival. The clan died with those cats. Rebels were killed, and Brightthorn and Stormyfang were gone in a moment. She'd had Icetail and Brownwhisker take care of them for her.
In her mind, on that sorrowful night, Cherryfrost replayed the events of her life. How she somehow wheedled her way into the world of lies and deciet, into frowns and hatred and tears and loneliness. Foxstar and her had been mates for three years now, a long time, but more than anything, she had gotten inside his head. Her name was Cherryfrost, but every single cat in Greenclan knew the truth. Her name was Cherrystar.
And now, with the red leader lying dead in the center of camp, she finally could have what she had worked for. Life. Lives. Stability and real power in the clan. Real love. Real truth and real salvation. That was what Fawnpaw had promised, wasn't it? Love and happiness and peace? An end to the tyranny of Starclan and their stony judgments? An end to the war and the strife? With her as leader, with her tongue in control, the tongue that had killed to many, turned loyal warriors into her slaves, made a strong leader fall in love with her, what was there that she could not conquer?
As she looked back, the past hope and ambition she had was even more depressing, even more heartbraking, because now, too late, she saw her errors. There was nothing left of this beautiful cat. Her kits would have been a year old, now, if they'd lived. But she had killed them, because not even her lover would appoint her as deputy nursing kits. She'd the young warrior, barely past apprenticeship, Ravenslash, kill them for her. She'd still had the smallest sliver of love in her heart for something, then, and even if the choice was hers, and she decided to do it, she couldn't, not with her claws. She'd named the little tabby Beekit, and the ginger, the same color as Foxstar, was little Lashingkit. Too late. Too late.
She recalled the deep noon day when she had convinced Ravenslash, then paw, to kill his sister. By that point all Fawnpaw had needed to do to coax her was whisper a few words as she fell asleep. Her own blackheartedness did the rest. And now, now they were gone, forever. There was no Starclan, she knew now. There was no Fawnpaw, either. There couldn't be, because they were both evil, and such evil things could not exist in this world. If they did, Cherryfrost was sure they all would have died out a long time ago.
But then she shuddered, because wasn't she evil? Wasn't she horrible and a murderess? Wasn't she a devil? Wasn't that what the rebels called her, behind her back, before she killed them? Wasn't that what Wolfspeckle had howled at her? A murderer? A killer just with her tongue? Her words....they were so powerful. They used to be fun. But now, now she was afraid to speak anymore. Afraid everything she said would sway someone, would make them do something, would change her world's course. Would make her regret another thing.
They were a curse.
And she didn't want them, anymore. She didn't want this. Cherryfrost flashed her intense eyes up again against the sky, old and jaded to this world of pain. They used to be happy, and they used to be young, and beautiful. Now they were nothing but dead. A corpse's eyes.
"It's my fault. It's all my fault. I did this. All of it. There were any dreams. There never were any reasons. Never was a prophecy. Never was a Starclan, or a Forest. It was all in my head. My heart." The words were broken, dying, pulled from her soul as if from thorns, leaving behind bleeding trails in her ragged soul. What was left of it, anyway. The evil had no hearts, that was a fact.
For a moment, Cherryfrost could see the future. For a moment, she knew, as surely as one knows the sky is up and snow is cold, that when she was dead and gone, that Greenclan would hate her. She wouldn't be there to twist their minds and hearts, she couldn't control them from the abyss of death, and then, when they regained themselves, they really would hate her. Elders would tell stories about her, the cold one that brought Greenclan to it's knees, the most elegant killer in the world. Kits would play games as her, and the rest would attack and bring them down. Apprentices would learn about her, the cat who came from no clan, who bred chaos, and they would scorn her as a distant memory, a humiliation to the beauty of Greenclan. Warriors would lash their tales when her name was mentioned, remembering how their grandfathers and grandmothers were killed under her regime, how cat murdered cat and how minds went blank under her spell. The deputy and leader would try to forget about her, not to have nightmares of turning into her. Because she knew what everyone would think. They would think she was a cold-hearted, black wench. A power-hungry, ambitious, soulless fiend. And they were right. But somehow, somehow that description seemed wrong to the she-cat. She felt like it didn't do her justice. She was so much more than those words, she had to be. At least...she used to be. Had she changed so much?
Yes. She had.
Cherryfrost stood, shaking her long, beautiful pelt of fallen leaves and dirt. It was time. The moon was high, and the Moon Tree awaited her. The leader was dead. She was the deputy. It was lawful and right. And yet, the cat's head was bowed as she approached, not out of respect, not out of shame, but out of sorrow. She was not ashamed of what she'd done. It was a blur in her mind. She was just sad. So sad that it came to this. That she had been used.
She knew now there was no Fawnpaw. A spirit, some sort of sprite that came to her, maybe she was just a part of Cherryfrost's mind that came alive in her sleep. Whatever that thing was, she wasn't real. Cherryfrost had decided that, now, knowing, finally, the way she had been used and twisted. Manipulated. Too late she realized the glow in the eyes of that beautiful ghostly cat had not been friendship or love or glory, it had been anger and it had been spite. She was evil, and Cherryfrost knew now that she was all the more so for her beautiful complexion. What a fraud, what a liar. Cherryfrost had turned into her. That was what was most regretful. That Fawnpaw, the face she'd seen in a sunny day's cloud, the voice she heard murmuring in her ear, the pelt she'd rubbed against in her dreams, the friend she'd trusted and listened to, was never really Fawnpaw. She was Cherryfrost. She was just a dangerous fragment, given too much power, given free reign. And now, it was too late.
The Moon Tree sat upon a jagged cliff. A waterfall ran beside it, in the moonlight silver and silken. The earth around was clay, mushy under her paws, and reddish brown. Cherryfrost looked at the tree, mottled and sunken, gnarled as it was. It was ugly, and yet, in the night, the darkness flitted across it's knotted trunk, dappling it in blue and black hues. The moon twinkled upon it's side, and filtered through it's branches. The leaves that hung from it like dew drops were silver, and it looked nearly as magnificent as the cat that stood under it. She looked up, and took a deep breath. The hollow in the middle, right where the moon glowed into, a little cave just big enough for her to fit in, called her name. She felt the pull. She nearly smelled Fawnpaw's old scent, drawing her forward. She took a pawstep towards it. But it felt all wrong. This was not the way it was supposed to happen. Foxstar was dead, if not at her paws, at her tongue. And that was worse.
From the moment Greenclan was established, Cherryfrost had wanted to rule it. She knew, in her heart of hearts, she was the best cat to do it. She was stable and strong and an incredible speaker. She used to be brave, and she was happy, once. She was honest and loyal and perfect. But she was so lost. And on the way to this goal, which she stood in front of now, she had taken wrong turns, and she had hurt others. She had hurt and killed and betrayed them. She was awful. And now she breathed out deeply, eyes blue like the rippling waterfall, turned silver by the night.
"I don't deserve it." She knew that. She had known that for a long time now. But what was more, was that prophecy that rang in her head like a bell. The one Fawnpaw had told her so long ago, as an apprentice. When she was just Cherrypaw.
"Again there are things stirring,
Amid the shadows of the heart,
And in the sky, twisting and curling,
A red moon shines down in the dark.

To finish what was started,
The soulless require one,
And whether warm or cold hearted,
Depends all on tasks done.

To fail in this endeavor,
Would be a fatal blow,
In darkness swamped forever,
Until the last of us did go.

Forget not this, clan-mother,
And heed the words in blood,
The chosen one shall be discovered,
As an island in the flood."
"As an island in the flood." Cherryfrost shook her head, dejected. She remembered when she was Cherrykit, barely, and mostly from being retold the story from Wolfspeckle, when he was just a --paw, about when she was nearly drowned. It had rained, as they were climbing up the rock face, still looking for a home, and the side had become so slippery, and wet. No one could hold on. Cats fell, and they died. Eventually they had been led to a cave, and they stayed there that night. Cherrykit had run out, and in the morning, everyone thought she was dead. They searched for her, she remembered Wolfpaw telling her that, how he ran about calling her name. A cat found her sound asleep on a flat rock point, what used to be a ten foot tall spike of stone, but was now the smallest island amid the rain-pool. She awoke, surprised at finding water all around, and she told the clan how much she liked to sleep in the rain.
Fawnpaw had reminded Cherryfrost of that, when she told her about the prophecy. "See," she had encouraged, flicking her tail kindly, "Starclan wanted you to be their chosen one. They wanted you to bring about all the destruction to the clan. I gave Darknose that message, and I hoped she would try and help you...but she hasn't. I think we're on our own now. We're all the hope Greenclan has."
Cherryfrost had listened, and she had believed. But as she thought now, in the dark night, she felt like even that too was a lie. That maybe, in the end, she had become the enemy of this prophecy because she had tried so hard to fulfill it. That sounded right. How sad, in the end, she should fail so disastrously.
"Maybe it's better this way. If I go now, the clan could still be saved." It had always been about the clan, she felt, never her. It was always supposed to be, anyway. Somehow she lost herself. A sudden epiphany struck her, and a vengeful smile crept upon her face. If she was leader, Fawnpaw would win. She would bring the chaos of Cherrystar to the world, and the clan really would go down in fire and water. She would really destroy Greenclan, if she went back. She knew that. The aura of power was too strong to stop, when she was amid them all. But alone, out here, her thoughts were her own, once again. And she felt, for that, for the first time in a while, she could do something of her own free will. She could end this. She could laugh in the face of Fawnpaw, for all her planning and cunning words, because she would fail if Cherryfrost died. She wouldn't lead the clan, she would never kill them all, because her tool was broken. That was the answer, wasn't it. In her soul, Cherryfrost knew it was.
So she took another breath, feeling it rest against her lungs like a bird, soft and warm in her chest. And instead of walking and leaping into the trunk of the tree, she walked around it, her paws stepping slightly on the dark, gnarled roots.
And then she was at the waterfall. The spray flicked against her fur, and she twitched an ear nervously. She used to love life, hadn't she? She used to have friends, and she used to laugh, too. Something had happened...it was all so gradual, Cherryfrost couldn't pick out where she had gone wrong. But it was too late for thinking. Thinking had gotten her no where, up to now. She just had to feel. And she felt, in her heart and in her gut, she was doing the right thing.
And she jumped.
And she died.
And the prophecy died with her, turning to smoke and ashes. Greenclan woke the next morning without a leader and many of it's warriors. In ruins, they picked up the pieces, spewing hateful gossip about the cat that had caused it all. They had a right to say such things. But if they knew the truth, if they knew how good she used to be, how great she could have been...if they knew the gift she was born with, what she wanted, in her heart....if they'd known she pushed her ambition and thoughts aside that night and taken her life, destroyed herself, for them, maybe they would have even stopped for a moment, and thought about her. Maybe they would have mourned.
They did not mourn though, and the next kits born were told stories of the evil leader, the one who raged through the clan turning brother against brother. After years and years the story changed a bit, variations were made, and even her name was changed. Cherryfrost sounded so smart, and even sweet, that by the time those first kits were grown and had grandchildren of their own, her name had miraculously turned to Shadeslash, the mysterious black she-cat who nearly destroyed the clan. The one with the blue eyes that twinkled like stars. Just as cold, just as powerful.
That night, too, Starclan took a sigh of relief, and a new cat joined them, with stars in her fur.
"Cherryfrost," a voice purred, and out of the masses came a strong grey tomcat, with white socks and kind grey eyes. Wolfspeckle. "I knew you'd find your way, someday."



__________________________

[Kat.]

wow, Chessie.

this is...
awesome.

as usual, you took my breath away *o* that was so amazing <3 it's too bad it's the last chapter. ;n;

[111misc]

Thank you, it was just...closure, I guess. I didn't have time or energy to write the entire story out. So I decided to skip to the end, for a final post, you know? It was important for me, I suppose. I'm glad you liked it, I hope it makes people feel something....I tried to make it emotional, but I wasn't sure how it came out. I just kind of wrote it, and didn't put much thought into the actual style as much as other times. I just had to get it out of my head.

[Kat.]

its so dark. like it kinda makes me feel like I'm evil, that's how powerful you can write. it's stunning, really.
you're kinda my inspiration in a way Chess, kinda like... yes... my hero. -starry eyes-

[111misc]

Oh Kat, thank you <3
I really don't deserve it, I'm just a kid, writing. But I'm really flattered, and also a bit confused because I haven't seen you in a role play in who-knows-how-long! We need to regroup! ...And thanks for telling me that feedback. It makes me feel really awesome, knowing it made you feel something. I don't know what I was trying to accomplish, but I love writing about a villain; they're always the most brilliant characters, anyway.

[Kat.]

okay, back. -nomnomlunch-

yeah I really need to get back in shape. writing-wise, anyways... <.<
and you deserve the praise, girlie <3