[I Like Bees]

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[b]Username:[/b]
[b]Cat Name:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Rank:[/b]
[b]Clan:[/b] (Please link)
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[b]Prompt:[/b]

Name: Tigercreek
Gender: Male
Rank: Deceased
Clan: Elmclan
Description: Seal charcoal rosetted lynx mink
with turquoise eyes
Age: 54 moons
Edits: [NR] Scars, blind, claws, missing toe, weight;
[C] min fur, tongue, pupil, sclera color, eyelashes,
eye shape, whiskers, ear placement, ear tufts;
[UC] long tail, round ears
Owner: ethium

[Adamented]

Username: Adamented
Cat Name: Tiiviste
Gender: Molly
Rank: Grand Scout
Clan: Gladewood
Age: 8 years
Prompt:
Wip

Eight lifetimes to love others and feel earthshattering loss, and one to love herself.

When curious blue eyes first peered into the dim light of the underground dens of the Gladewood, she had spent many weeks with them closed. In that time she had grown familiar with the earthy and musty smells of the deep earth under the old growth glade grove where her mother had deemed fit to have her first litter of kittens with her mate. Among the warmth of her mother's belly swimming around in the soft fluff of her long fur were three other kittens, mewling and whining away in the dark, grasping at their mother for warmth and getting to know one another. They got to know each others' smells, sounds, personalities... it wasn't clear what Tiiviste would grow to be, fur so light with its pale rosette spots and timid nature. She was an anomaly in color and in attitude, completely different from her, at kithood, strong willed and energetic siblings. Tiiviste spent a large majority of her kithood before her eyes opened to reveal kitten-blue eyes not yet revealing their truly fantastic sparkling jade coloration sleeping in the warmth of her mother's thick fur, hiding from the outside world under her mother's arm and kneading the fur of her chest where her coloration was palest and most warm, avoiding loud sounds and her rather rambunctious littermates.

In the time that followed her timidness never did eb, she didn't join in the games of her siblings, as they wriggled about and mewled to one another, too young to understand or produce true language and communication but old enough to understand the sound of their own names and echo others. It was a wonderful and innocent time, their ignorance hidden safely within this den. For now, the Gladewood Wanderers hadn't yet followed Myistera's light from the Gladewood Grove, instead opting to stay while the youngest of their family grew to a size that would allow them to join the nomadic migration the Wanderers took every year during the warm months. It was Winter, a cold chill stung the air above ground but they were comfortable and warm in the embrace of their mother, and occasionally her mate or friends. The company was pleasant and Tiiviste gravitated to a warm feminine voice that rumbled low in the chest of a maned molly before her eyes had yet opened, even. She came later to know, as her eyes opened and took in all the wonderful sights- the dark den, the bright contrast of her mother's pelt, and this chocolate-red and white tortoiseshell molly- that the voice and body she'd grown to be comforted by was one of authority within the Wanderers and the Gladewood roots she called home and her mother called respite.

In her time as a young kit she learned a few things, her siblings were quite cruel humored but they did adore her. Probably more than she cared for them to be completely honest, but she was already showing signs of being quite withdrawn among them. They liked to tease or scare her, playing petty tricks and nipping her ears, tail, toes- anything they could possibly get their little claws, teeth, or tails on. Tiiviste was like their target. Maybe it was because she spent so little time moving, a cause for concern by her mother. She could hear the concern in her voice before she could understand what her mother was saying or what the sense of concern really even meant, she could feel the race of her mother's heartbeat in her worry.

"Is it okay for her to be so still? Should she be sleeping so much? She isn't eating as much as the others- they're twice her size..." It was true. Her body was tiny, the first to be born from her mother among the others and yet she was the runt, the smallest and last to crawl around, the last to let out the first cries as they were out into the open air. Though she didn't eat as much as the others and she was quite small, there was lots of food to go around and she didn't find she was particularly hungry at the times when her siblings would relax with their mother's milk before a short nap, followed quickly by playtime once their short lived energy came back once again.

"We just have to wait," that warm, authoritative voice reassured, and Tiiviste could feel herself drawn towards it as she stumbled on stiff legs from the warmth of her mother's beating heart and the sticky grasp of the pale fur. Gleaming bi colored eyes stared back down on her and froze her in her tracks, wide kitten eyes staring up and her own heart was like a stuttering hammer, threatening to break out of her chest and run away. This lioness of a feline was looking down at her with her full focus, the hair on Tiiviste's back was straight up and though she had half the mind to jump forward and hide under the molly, or turn back and scramble back to her mother, she couldn't push herself to do either. "It's not necessarily dangerous, this. She could be okay. Time will tell to be honest but you may need to be worried about other complications to her health... I can hear it. Her heart. It's very strong."

She was frozen completely in place. What did it mean, what the molly said? She had no idea. They were words formed by thoughts, tongues, and teeth but they didn't mean anything in that order to Tiiviste. The chocolate-red tortie shook her mane and settled nearby, watching Tiiviste closely and waiting, there was an expectant look on her face as she sunk to the ground, belly touching the floor. Her tufted tail swayed and caught Tiiviste's attention, her little dark blue orbs focused there and it was hypnotic the way it brushed over the ground one way- then another. It swirled up, then over, back down, around... she was in a daze for a moment before a lurch hit her stomach and a startled mewl escaped her without permission when her eyes met that heterochromic gaze again, she was being watched very intently and she didn't like the way it caused her fur to rise.

Tiiviste's breath was caught in her throat, she swallowed hard to clear the lump it left and shuddered an uncomfortable inhale and exhale before cautiously toeing her way over the finer roots on the under workings of the great overhead tree that protected her from the elements here. Without a moment to collect herself, suddenly she felt herself being bowled over and heard and eruption of amused giggles and laughter from all around the den, her sister sat proudly on top of her. She was practically buried and drowning in her sister's fluffy long fur, exasperated already with her sister's games and far too tired to resist the attempts to pin her Tiiviste let her head fall back, the tufts of her ears brushing the loose dirt around her. She could see her brothers had caught the swiveling tail of the lioness, who only stared down at them with a look of adoration and amusement.

"Do you think I'll have to worry about her movement?" A hesitant, wary voice crops up- her mother again, inquiring again with that quaking tone. She honestly hates it a little, resents the sound a slight bit though she doesn't really know why. It's like she only ever hears it that way, especially when she hears her own name. It shakes her from sleep, from dreams of a world bright and warm and dazzling. It stirs her from hunger and makes her food feel sour to the tongue, it makes her skin twitch like an itch unable to be scratched. Tiiviste wants to ease those feelings of doubt or fearfulness she knows her mother must be facing, but there's absolutely no way for her to do this so she sits helpless, waiting only for the tone to subside, usually with the typical reassurances of the larger felines or by distraction from her littermates.

"Like I said, time. She seems to be doing alright, just a little skittish. Many of the kittens I have seen have started out that way. With siblings like hers," The lioness raised her tail, two small toms hanging off of it and nibbling at the tufted end's stray strands, "I don't think you'll need to be worried. She'll need to be strong with them around."

There's more to this conversation and she knows it but settles for rolling onto her stomach and crawling back to her mother's belly instead, once her sister's weight leaves her. She can feel her sister's larger paws swat at her ears and tail and tries to shake off the swats, mewling helplessly at her mother when the weight drops on her back again and the air is pushed from her lungs. She can feel the weight lifted off of her with her mother's jaws lifting her sister away by the scruff, a shiver of warmth and gratefulness shrouds her and she burrows in closer, then closer still. There's nothing like home, even if, she thinks, it would be better if the others just let her be and she could just nap in the cuddling embrace of their mother instead of being teased and bothered, she'd much prefer the land of dreams to their games anyway.

——

1,586/10,000

[ethium]

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.

[I Like Bees]

Username: ethium
Cat Name: tigercreek
Gender: male
Rank: deceased
Clan: elmclan
Age: 54 moons
Prompt:
-snip-

🎉🎉🎉 !! Your typing speed scares me /lh
Congrats on Tigercreek!

All entries completed before July 18th, 10:25 PM CDT will receive RUs

[christine,]

Username: christine,
Cat Name: elmfur
Gender: male
Rank: elder
Clan: <:
Age: 4 years
Prompt:

Oh, have you ever seen something?

Truly, truly seen something?

To see is one thing. To really, really see it is another. The act of sight is a gift that shouldn’t be taken lightly, no matter what the circumstances are. To live in a world of darkness is a curse only to those who view it that way.

For others, darkness is a blessing. There are some that do not possess the gift of sight that can truly still see better than any others could possibly dream of.

This is one of them.
______________________________________________________________________

He was born simply as Dot. A small name for a small kit that did nothing but be small day in and day out. What more is there for kits to do? In a world so big it is easy to be swallowed. It is also easy to be left behind by your family when everyone else is so much bigger than him. There is a word for such a thing: runt. There is also a world for him: the world which he was born into. A small den was his home, reeking of fox-scent from its former inhabitants. The scent became comforting, a mothering shawl when there was no mother to be found. Dot found his footsteps alone in the sandy dunes of the foxden, none the wiser that this was not exactly how it was supposed to occur; to the tiny tabby, the foxden was the world, and the world worked by kits living alone and fending for themselves.

There was no anger in such a thought. It was simply the way the world worked. Foxdens were home, kits were tiny, and Dot could see across the treetops below from his spot high on the mountain in the foxden.

He would sit on top of the hill, the wind blowing through his coat. And all was good in the world. There was something more to the way the trees were, though. THey moved in a way that spoke to him. Dot wasn’t concerned by this–the trees were the best friends he’d ever known. They encouraged him as he took his first steps. They egged him on as he hunted his first mouse. They were silent when he wailed out of loneliness. Up high on the mountain, it wasn’t easy being a kit, being alone, being Dot. But still he looked out, happy and content with what he was seeing.

The trees spoke to him in a way that was silent. Dot’s world was completely empty of language–how does one communicate in a way that is fair with nature? He was small, and the world was full of big languages he didn’t understand. So he spoke to them in the only way he knew how. He got close to the trees, climbed them with claws only just beginning to grow. Dot became a part of the tree in the same way that they were a part of him–his home became the branches, the foxden left untouched after six moons of keeping him safe. It was here, with his found family, that Dot knew he was safe from whatever may approach him.

The trees gave him everything that he needed to survive. They fed him with squirrels and birds nesting in their branches. Their flesh was soft and easy to eat, a break from the rough bark beneath the pads of his paws. There was a lot of give and take in this way of life, but Dot didn’t mind. This was his home, and the trees were his family. He slept in the branches of a large oak, sheltered from the rain by her large leaves. This was the life of a family supporting one another–but what did he give back to the trees?

He gave protection. He was careful to prey on woodpeckers, destroying the bark of his brothers. He picked out bugs from beneath their tender leaves, moving acorns to open spaces to allow their progeny to thrive. This is what family does, Dot knew. They help each other thrive. They take in the yellow-greens that stretch above them, pulling them in for an embrace that stretches for miles. Have you ever been hugged until the moon shone between the branches of the oak and the birch? Have you ever run for miles and miles, knowing that your siblings ran alongside you, roots stretched deeper into the Earth than you’ll ever see?

Dot did. And Dot knew that this was home.

______________________________________________________________________

But every home has its squabbles, has their own argument meant to stretch and pull and test the boundaries of what it means to be family. And the first time this happened with Dot was a thunderstorm. Quite honestly, he wasn’t too sure what was going on; the sky was crying in the way that he often did, wet water dripping down his fur and watering the base of his parents. But what was wrong? Why was it crying so much? Dot’s own awakening had been a small thorn in his paw, gifted by an angry sibling hiding beneath the bough of his sister, but this was different. He couldn’t see any thorn in the sky, only a thick blanket of blackness impenetrable by the stars that he had grown to love.

“Sky oh sky, why do you cry?” Dot lifted his head to his friend. “I don’t understand–the world is warm and green, and the nights are cool and clear. Why do you drop rain upon us like so?”

“Dot, I cry because I cry.” The sky answered in a boom that shook the very earth that Dot stood on. “I rain because I rain. You run because you are afraid. I am not afraid, my friend. I am raining because I take care of you the same way you take care of me.”

“I don’t understand, sky. If you are happy, then why do you yell? Why does your voice echo for miles, deep into my bones and deep into the earth, shaking my family? Why does your bright bright hand reach down and strike my siblings? You fell each tree, and each tree fallen burns me to my core. Your hands leave smolders on this earth that take seasons upon seasons to heal.”

“You are small, Dot, but you still see. You see the way that I strike down your family. I do it because I love them, and by returning them to the soil I find ways to heal their progeny. It is no different than the way that you spread acorns to gain siblings. We will all return to the dust one day, but that is nothing to be afraid of. Do you understand now?”

“I do, sky.” Dot smiled, rain dripping down his face. “I do understand. Thunder is thunder, rain is rain, and my family will help my family grow. Thank you, sky.”

“Any time, dear friend. You are safe as long as you are under me.” The sky prophesied.
______________________________________________________________________


Dot had stepped on a bee. The bee had stung him.

“Bee, that hurts.” Dot cried, raining. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Beecause you stepped on me, Dot.” The bee buzzed buzzily. “I beelieve that I am entitled to sting you for such an act.”

“But it hurt me.” Dot complained.

“Stepping on me hurt. An eye for an eye, a stinger for a paw. Such is the way the world works.” The bee nodded.

“That’s rather unfortunate, I think.” Dot shook his head. “But I think I understand. Thank you, bee.”

“Any time, Dot.” The bee buzzed happily, and then died.

______________________________________________________________________

The first time that Dot met a cat was on a walk through his family, through the woods. The cat was large and white and fluffy but in a way that rivaled the clouds in the sky rather than the cotton on the dogwoods. There is a large distinction, you see, because Dot was small like the pebbles on the shore of the river that stood between the two cats. Dot felt smaller than ever when looking at this stranger.

But still, he called out. “Dear Stranger, what brings you to my family?”

The other cat looked at him, as things with eyes often do. “Do you see the way I look at you, stranger? What do you see in my gaze?” The cat-cloud asked, tail swishing across the thick grass. His voice was almost completely hidden by the sound of the trickling water between them.

(It was more of a creek than a river, really. Another important distinction to make between the two things.)

“I see bright eyes that take in the branches of my parents. I see pupils that question who I am, what I am doing. With my own eyes I see eyes that look at me in a way that is hesitant but still willing to communicate. That is what I see, seer.” Dot nodded his words.

“You are not incorrect in any of your observations, Stranger. But you are a cat in just the same way I am.” The visitor called over the rush of the river-creek-water. “A cat in the way that we are distrustful.”

“That is where we differ. For I am not a cat that you speak of. I am a tree. I grew beneath the soil of this mountain and emerged to live within the branches of my family. You stand beside my sibling, an acorn that I planted from my mother and covered with dirt with my own branches. I am a tree, and you are a cat, and I differ from you in that I am not wary of you.” Dot smiled. “I am a tree, and I welcome you to my home. Find solace within these branches. There is soft grass to rest at the base of every trunk. There are many squirrels and many birds and many things to eat that will satiate your soul and remind you that you are just as much of a tree as I am, friend.”

“So we are friends now, you say? We have just met, my tree-friend.”

“There are no enemies in this forest. You are welcome to everything I have, which is all around us.”

“That is kind of you, friend, but I must be on my way. I am going to my own home, to my own family of cats.”

“Are they all as distrustful as you?”

“Maybe not in the way that you think. My family is close and closer to a code that keeps us close. It is a way of life that you wouldn’t understand. It’s not a way of life meant for cats who believe themselves to be trees. I am not distrustful of you; I feel safe here. And I know that the warrior code is not for cats like you.”

The cloud-cat-dogwood-flower left. And Dot the cat was left with a lot of questions that his parents couldn’t answer, as they did not have the same mouth to speak from that he did.

______________________________________________________________________

“What does it mean to be a tree, mother?” Dot asked the large willow as her hands cradled him to sleep. “What does it mean to have branches, have leaves? What makes me different from the mice I find in your roots or the squirrels I take from your branches?” He cocked his head, the bark of the branch hitting an itch on his pelt and in his head that he couldn’t reach before. “Because I may be a cat, but I am a tree, a tree in the same way that you are a cat and I am not a tree.”

“You are my son.” The Willow answered. “You are part of me and I am part of you. You grew up in my branches and will die beneath my roots. You will be reborn and rejoin us in a way that you never would’ve expected. I think that even I don’t know what is meant for you, my son, but you are destined for a life much different than this one. And it will be exactly the same as the life that you currently lead.”

Dot nodded to himself. It was easy to have a conversation when both people talking to one another were the same.

“I see.”

______________________________________________________________________

Dot enjoyed the way that he looked. He often wondered what sort of tree he was; his pelt had the same spots as birch-sister. His tail waved in the wind the same way that willow-mother did. On certain days, when the sunlight would join him just right, he could see his resemblance to maple-brother in the way that he seemed red-brown-grey-green-purple. It was a blessing to look this way, he supposed. To have bright green leaves that he could see out of. None of his siblings were able to see. Dot often wondered why he was chosen to see and not any of the rest of his family. He eventually came to the conclusion that he was meant to see for the rest of his family–he would be their leaves, instead of taking in sunlight he’d take in the rest of the world around them. That way he could be just as useful as his family that fed him and kept him safe and dry and happy and healthy and safe and did he mention fed? Oh yeah they gave him plenty of food and and and and and and and it was good to be a tree. He thinks. He thought.

______________________________________________________________________

Dot had a certain pattern that he followed every day. It was the one thing that separated him from mother sun and father moon, both who he adored but also didn’t like. Mother sun was too bright at times–it made him feel like the smoldering ashes of his trees after the sky’s hand would come down during a thunderstorm. But father moon’s darkness was often a bit pressing, making Dot feel like he didn’t belong anywhere but in the arms of his family, high above the ground that was so so so so soft beneath his paws. Mother sun and father moon brought many challenges to Dot, and he dealt with them by each giving them space in his life. After all, family was often about sharing, and time wasn’t always friendly to such an idea.

Every morning Dot would climb to the highest branch that he could find; it was a task that changed daily, as his siblings were always racing to see who could be the biggest, who could reach mother sun first before the thunderstorm would strike them down and they’d have to start over again. It was a race that Dot would never win (he was small, you see see see see) but he would find the day’s winner every morning. It was a way to meet with his family and congratulate them on growing. Every day their answer would be the same.

“You’ll be big one day, Dot. You’ll be seen by all of us.”

He didn’t know what to make of that, but he always answered. “I see.”

After finding the winner, Dot would have breakfast. Often it was offered to him by his mother or father tree, but sometimes he decided to make things more difficult for himself–there was no fun in living the same life every every every day you see, over and over and over again. One day he’d have a robin. And then a newt. And then a fish and a salamander and a plump mouse that made a home amongst the daisies.

Am I a mouse amongst the daisies? Dot thought to himself. No, I can’t be. No, I would be small and grey compared to the daisies. But instead I’m small and brown compared to the trees.

Maybe that was a thought for never again. He was a tree, and that was that. Right?

Next, after eating, he’d bathe. He’d find a break in the leaves and lay down in the patch of sun and take in the warmth that often father moon robbed from them. Father moon didn’t seem the nicest at times, but he really was beautiful. There was nothing as stunning as the top of a forest, looked at from above, bathed in the moonlight that father moon dropped on top of them like a little gift. It just got cold sometimes, that’s all. So Dot would find the sunlight and make himself gleam just like the leaves before they would drop in the winter. He’d be sleek and clean and shiny so that he could take in the sun and grow and grow!

One day he’d take over his siblings. They’d see. He’d see.

After bathing it was time to do chores. He had to take care of the place he lived, you see. Because if he didn’t take care of it it would turn like that old fox den that he used to live in–usable, but nothing like the splendor and home-feel that he was so used to. It’s hard to have something be some way and then make it a new way. Things when they became new ways never really worked out in a way that felt old, because they were new. His forest wasn’t new, but the foxden was old. The foxden didn’t have any chores related to it because it was an old home and this was his new home. Dot was glad that he didn’t live there anymore. He couldn’t imagine being in a den that smelled like fox, a roof over his head to keep him dry, warm bedding, not sleeping three fox-lengths above the ground. That sounded too good to be true, and thus must be false. So he would no longer be worrying about sleeping in the fox den.

The chores consisted of weeding, planting, and talking-to. Weeding was taking out weeds that were suffocating the growth of his future siblings. He would rip out the grasses surrounding them, making sure the soil was rich and dark with raindrops that would make sure his siblings could grow big and strong. Dot wasn’t really happy that it was so easy to make his siblings grow. Why couldn’t he grow with some rich soil and soft grass? He asked these questions as he continued to garden around his family, making sure they had room to see what they needed to see.

Planting was also fairly straightforward, like the path from his old home to his current home. Well, that was a path and this was a sequence of events, but in Dot’s mind they were one and the same. Dot would scoop up the acorns and the helicopters and the pinecones and make sure that each of them had their own space to grow. It depended on how much he liked his new siblings that he’d choose how much space they got. Some of them got as much space as Mother Willow did, with several fox-lengths to breathe. Others got a tiny tiny itty bitty space, just like how small Dot was compared to the rest of his family. Those were ones that poked his paws or made it difficult to find them that got that small of a space. They got a small space because they were destined to be small like him. But maybe they would like it. Like he did. Right? Dot liked being small, right? Right? Right?

Right. I see.

Talking-to was also straightforward, but not straightforward like the way it was to run to the foxden or plant his siblings. No, talking-to depended on the day, the time, the way the sun shone, the way he felt, if his bed was comfortable, if he had eaten a good piece of prey, all of it depended on what he was talking-to and who he was talking-to about. Yes, all those factors made Dot feel different, and thus he knew he had to get to know his family in all different ways so there would always be someone to talk to.

The trees had personalities, you see. Sister maple liked to talk to Dot on sunny cool days, when the air was bright and light without the humidity that Brother Oak seemed to enjoy. Dot would talk to her about the way the clouds were shaped, and if he could see any trees in there. She would listen happily. She wasn’t much of a responder, but Dot didn’t mind. He could do all the talking for them. Brother Oak, as mentioned, liked the humidity. Dot could tell this because his branches would creak and sway, making Dot’s own bark damp from the shared ride, digging his claws in roughly to stay attached. He hoped that Oak didn’t think of him like that little bee did–a sting due to being stepped on was very different than a joyride on your brother’s arm in the bright, heavy, newleaf air. Dot wasn’t a bee, he was a tree. Those were very different things, you see?

After talking-to was sleep time. And there were many options where Dot could sleep. He could sleep in the branches of Mother Willow, the brush of the tendrils lulling him to sleep like a lullaby that a mother would usually do. Sometimes Father Elm was a good place to sleep as well, the large branches keeping Dot from falling so far down he could never be caught again. Those nights were cool and crisp, the crickets chirping as if to say “Thank you Dot! You’re such a good tree to your family!”

Sometimes Dot wouldn’t sleep in a tree at all. He’d sleep at the base, nestled between the roots, soft grasses folding like a blanket over his fur to keep himself warm. Those nights were few and far between (guilt kept Dot close to his family) but he did savor them like a particularly delicious treat. No nightmares would ever keep him awake when he was on the solid ground. He didn’t have to worry about falling and never waking up again. On the ground Dot was safe. But don’t tell his family! It would be a shame if one of the family found out and no longer loved him because he was actually very very very afraid of heights. He couldn’t ever tell them that. So you who are reading, I am going to trust you to keep that secret because if the trees ever found out that Dot was actually terrified of them Dot would lose the only family he had ever had. So don’t tell the trees, okay? We trust you. Trees are welcoming always. Don’t even worry, you see.

______________________________________________________________________


Another thing that Dot was afraid of was Winter. This was a much more reasonable fear, he knew, because the thought of being abandoned by one’s family for weeks upon weeks upon weeks upon weeks was enough to make anyone tremble, Right? Right. He knew that winter was approaching when his siblings stopped listening to his talking-tos. They would sway in the wind, the edges of their beautiful green leaves tinged in brown, and their voices would go silent. One by one they’d stop responding (even Mother Willow) until there was no one left in the forest except Dot.

(He had once picked a beautiful green leaf off of Sister Maple in the hope that he could keep it with him for comfort in the months that would follow; he had images of that green leaf and him froliking in the snow. But the leaf turned brown and crinkled away in the same timing that it took his sister to go silent. After that, he stopped trying to keep mementos. They’d all go away after that.)

It was only on his third winter that Dot had the brilliant idea to spend the winter in the old foxhole. It would be warm and dry and he could look out over the branches of his family to keep them safe without the cold that would often accompany such a job. So he made his way up the mountain of his kithood, unsure of what he would find there.

The foxhole was still there, the fox-scent as stale as it was when he had first left. Some of the walls were a bit dilapidated, but for the most part they were still in good enough shape to keep Dot safe through the weeks that would follow. It took several sunrises and moonrises for Dot to put it back together in a way that really felt like home, though. There were a few things that he required in a house like this.

The nest was the most important part. He had to have a small divot in the ground that he could fill with soft, dry grasses and whatever moss he was able to hide away before the snow had snapped. There was enough to make him a nest that was warm and comfortable and most importantly on the solid ground. He would be safe here for as many moons as it would take for the grass to turn green again and for his family to wake up. The nest was safe and warm.

Another requirement was the prey pile. This time of year was scarce for food, and Dot could feel his own ribs–I mean, branches–beneath his skin when he tried to keep his daily schedule of grooming himself. He had to eat more, he knew, but it was so soso so so so difficult to find prey. What woodpeckers were going to go after a tree that was asleep? What about the squirrels that had spent weeks digging up his siblings in preparation for the long winter? Even the mice were asleep, he thought. That meant that the prey he found was few and far between, and not enough to start a prey pile, really. But he took it upon himself to keep the bones of the prey that he did catch in a neat little pile near the entrance to show his family upon their awakening. This way they could see that he could take care of himself, and they didn’t have to worry about going to sleep for so long.

(Did they worry? He wondered if they worried about him before they fell asleep. He didn’t want to think about what it may mean if they didn’t worry at all. Did anyone worry at all about him?)

So far the bone pile consisted of a mouse, a small vole, a squirrel (that had been so so so so delicious), and a bluejay. That last one hadn’t been so yummy, but the feathers had made his nest look like (and feel like) that of the mightiest tree in the forest. The splashes of blue reminded him of the bright summer sun. There was a bright blue sky this time of year, but it felt lonely and unfriendly without the rest of his family there.

More and more often Dot caught himself dreaming of the thing that had called himself a cat. What was that thing? Maybe he was more like him than he thought. Could trees be like cats? Maybe they could be like clouds. That could be the first thing. Dot could see that.

He could see.

______________________________________________________________________

Oh, have you ever seen something?

Truly, truly seen something?

To see is one thing. To really, really see it is another. The act of sight is a gift that shouldn’t be taken lightly, no matter what the circumstances are. To live in a world of darkness is a curse only to those who view it that way.

For others, darkness is a blessing. There are some that do not possess the gift of sight that can truly still see better than any others could possibly dream of.

This is one of them.

Until it wasn’t.

______________________________________________________________________

Dot woke up unable to see. He was still Dot, but he couldn’t see. The world was black and pressing and he at first thought he couldn’t open his eyes until his claw poked himself and it hurt. Why did it hurt? He couldn’t get hurt if he couldn’t see, right? The sharp chill of the winter air answered him. “You don’t see? You don’t see what’s happened?” It asked.

“No, I don’t see what’s happened.” Dot answered. “My face hurts, but it can’t possibly hurt. Because I don’t remember why it would hurt. I haven’t done anything to make it hurt.”

“Think about the bee.” The wind answered. “A stinger for an eye.”

“An eye? Did it take my eye? No, I still feel it there. But there’s warm rain around it.”

“Blood, dear Dot. There’s blood. Now that you can’t see, you have to use your other senses to know what’s going on. Take your time.” The wind whistled in Dot’s ear. That was hearing, he knew. He could still hear. Hearing was important. Dot would use hearing to find where his family was swaying in the wind, where his family was hiding prey for him to find. It was good that he could still hear.

“My paw hurts. That’s touch.” Dot nodded. Yes, that was touch. He was missing a toe, he could tell that much. Thankfully the chill of the winter air made it not hurt so much. It felt like a bee sting. Touch was important for him to know that he wasn’t falling out of a branch at night, touch made him able to groom himself and know what places had been groomed.

“Yes, your toe hurts. What do you smell, Dot? What do you smell with your nose?” The wind asked him so kindly, brushing over his back in a comforting swell.

“I smell fox.” Dot nodded. “Yes, that’s what happened, hasn’t it? I smell a fox.” Fox-scent was no longer stale around him. It was concentrated mostly around his little prey-pile, the bones crunched and gnawed-on beneath his feet. Yes, the bones had attracted a fox who had found prey in Dot. But the fox was gone now, Dot couldn’t see, and he was lost.

There was no way he could climb another tree anymore. Why did the thought fill him with glee?

______________________________________________________________________

Dot had to say goodbye to his family. He was tired. Goodbyes were hard, and he had no idea where he was going to go next. But he knew of several things that were certain, and all of them had made him decide that he could no longer live in the woods that he called home for so long. So one by one, he knew that he had to be honest with them to tell them why he was leaving and what he was doing what he was doing what he was doing why he was doing it.

So thus he started with his siblings. Those would be easily done, right? After all, siblings don’t always get along. Especially when they’re trees of all different sorts.

Sister Elm, I can’t see you anymore. I can’t see the birds that hide in your branches and I can no longer climb your smooth bark to rest up in your boughs. I can’t see your leaves anymore, either. I hope you grow big and strong. I’m sure you would’ve won the climbing competition today.

Brother Maple. You were always tough to deal with. I remember planting you, and having such a hard time making sure the grass didn’t grow in around your roots. I wanted to make sure that you were able to grow taller than even mother Willow. But you just liked to take your time. I was thankful that you decided to stay close to the ground like me for a while. But then you left me behind. And I don’t think I want to be left behind anymore.

Father Elm, you took good care of me. You were strict and taught me many things, like how to climb on smooth bark and how to keep my claws out while I slept to make sure that I didn’t fall out of your branches while I was asleep. But sometimes I feel like you didn’t teach me these things with the intention of loving me. I know relationships with fathers can be hard, but I know that, if I am a tree, I’m not an Elm. I can’t climb you anymore, and I’m honestly sort of thankful for that fact.

And then came the hardest one of all to do. Mother Willow, whose branches pull me close even as she knows I’m about to leave for good. She sings to me in the way her leaves rustle, the way that they say my name. They drape over me and protect me from rain and allow me to grow in a way that nurtures me to be a better tree. But you know why I’m leaving, right right right right right right mother?

I do do do do do. I do, Dot. I know why you’re leaving. And first I will let you talk, but I have a message for you to follow as you do.

Thank you, mother. I have always felt safe under your branches. Ever since I first left that foxden I knew that I would find solace with you. You are draped and soft in a way that trees often aren’t; you reached down to me, down to the ground, when all of my siblings reach up to the sun in a way that I cannot do, because of the type of tree I am. But one mother’s love can’t be enough to foster the growth of one tree. I need more than that. And even now, I know I cannot see you, but I feel you pulling me close and telling me it’ll be alright; I cannot see, but you were not a tree I could climb to begin with. I know I will find you wherever I choose to go.

And that is what I wish to tell you, Mother Willow responded. I wish to tell you of your destiny, you see.

I don’t, actually.

Mother Willow laughed.

I wish to tell you of what you will see in your times to come. Things like this winter are not permanent, but your blindness is. Your other senses have become sharper, I can feel it now in the way you listen to the sound of my voice on the wind, the way that I beckon you closer with my branches and I feel you respond. So I want to ask you this, my sapling.

What, mother?

What do you call me?

Mother Willow.

Yes. Because I am what?

A willow tree, mother.

True. I am a willow tree. And Willow is in my soul. And although you are not of my blood, I want to give you this. Willow lives deep inside of you and will never ever ever ever ever leave.

I understand, mother. So you know I am not a willow tree?

I do know this. I know exactly what you are?

What am I, mother?

You’ll have to find it yourself. But I will tell you this. Without sight, you are lightning. You are the way that the hand strikes down and fells trees, returning them to soil. You are the way the sky cries out with rain just when the dry soil needs it most. My child, you are the way that the birds sing in the morning when the suns rise, you are the sound of the crickets in the grass when they sing their song for father moon. You are all of these things and more, and are going to find them. But once again, my child, what is my name?

Willow.

Find it.

I will.

______________________________________________________________________

In the end, it wasn’t Dot that found the Willow; the willow found him.

He had set off after that conversation, crossing the creek where he had met the cloud-cat. The water was heavy around his paws, but he was able to trust his claws to keep himself steady even when the current tried to push him over.

“Drat!” the river said. “I had so wished to have cat for dinner.”

“What?” Dot asked. “I am not a cat. I am a tree.” He had said, but not angrily. He was simply confused as to why this river was now calling him a cat.

“You are just as much of a cat as the cats that use me as a border for their territory.” The river huffed, splashing Dot indignantly. “You have their fur and their tails and their same eyes, scars and all. They match you, Dot. You match them. You are so much of a cat that I’d love to gobble you up and eat you for dinner! Beware of me, cat. Go find your clanmates.” The river gurgled.

Clanmates? What were clanmates? And the river thought he was a cat–the same thing that that cloud had accused him of being so many moons ago. Could it be true that, now being unable to see, he could see himself most clearly?

There were too many questions to answer. There were so many. But everything started with finding a cat.

And so, Dot did the only thing that he knew how to do–he asked the trees.

“Hello, trees.” Dot said.

“Hello, Dot.” They responded. That surprised Dot. How did they know his name? It wasn’t a common name. He hadn’t had any siblings that were also Dot trees like he was. They were all different sorts of trees, none of them the same stout ones that he was, so close to the ground. So how did they know his name?

“Our roots run deep.” They responded. Their roots had run even under the rushing water of the river, tangling with those of his parents and his siblings. “We are your cousins, Dot. We know you. You know us. You are safe here.”

Dot felt safe.

“What is a cat, trees? Am I a cat? I thought I was a tree. I was so sure I was a tree.” Dot asked.

“You are a cat. You’re on cat territory. This is not our land–this is the land of the cats, land that they have owned for long before even we were saplings as small as you are. This land of the cats is theirs, and we are lucky to live on it. You’ll be lucky to live on it, too, if you do believe yourself to be a cat one day.”

That news was scary. Dot didn’t want to believe that he could possibly be a cat. He had spent so many moons and suns and newleaves and greenleaves and leafbares really truly and utterly knowing believing seeing that he was as much of a tree as Mother Willow and Father Elm. But maybe some things took time to understand. Maybe lying in darkness was enough to teach him how to be a cat.

“I think I have to take things one step at a time. That’s touch, you see. I’ll listen to see if I can hear any footsteps that sound like my own. That sense is hearing, you see. I can smell the air with scent to see if I can smell any cats that smell like me. Do I smell like a tree?”

“You don’t smell like a cat.”

“I’ll learn, you see. Anything can be learned. If I can leave a foxden on a mountain and learn how to be a cat, I can truly do anything. Even if that means never ever ever ever sleeping in a branch above the ground ever again.” Dot nodded solidly, as if such a thing would actually be a sacrifice to him. He could feel that his cousins had soft grass at the base of their trunks, so sleeping beneath them would be a blessing after moons of being up above the sky.

The thought of being off of the ground terrified Dot. He couldn’t imagine doing it now that he couldn’t even see where his paws were supposed to be. Dropping, dropping, dropping, he would drop to the ground like a rock and never climb another tree.

“Cousins, even if I am a cat, are you still my cousins?” Dot asked warily.

The trees shook with laughter. “Dot, you will always be one of us. No matter what your name or how you see yourself, you will always be part tree. But you must come to that conclusion yourself, you must know what and who you really are. But we will always be here for you to rest your paws.”

“Paws…those touch the ground.”

______________________________________________________________________

As with all big things that have happened to Dot, it began in his sleep.

He was resting peacefully beneath Cousin Elm, snuggled into the soft grasses that newleaf brought. He really did believe that this time of year was the best for nest building, as the grasses were new enough that they hadn’t yet become sharp. His sleep was peaceful, paws on the ground, dreams soft soft soft and quiet and soft and quiet and little to stress him…

A yowl broke the beautiful silence that had previously encompassed everything. That was sound, he used his ears to hear sound. And that yowl sounded like something that he himself would sound like if he were to yowl. Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this? Was this?

IT WAS.

A cat tackled Dot to the ground, pinning him against the soft grass that had been his nest only moments before. Claws (touch) forest-smell (scent) and hissing (sound) were all things that he could take in. As in, the claws were sinking into his skin and he could smell his own blood hitting the air. But besides that, Dot couldn’t even find the words to describe how truly excited he was that another cat had found him.

“An intruder on WillowClan territory!” The cat screeched, sinking his teeth into Dot once again.

What?

What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What was that name?

“What?” Dot asked out loud.

“Don’t what me! You’re–” The voice cut off as a louder sound approached them.

“Daypaw, I admire your enthusiasm, but this is just a loner. Step back and smell again.” This voice, a deeper voice, joined them. A feminine voice. A lighter voice that Dot could hear with his ears and sound.

“But Ella! He’s covered in scars. He has to be an intruder.”

“Fox.” Dot croaked. The first word he had ever said to another cat since becoming a cat himself. “It was a fox. And I am a cat, just like you. I am a cat and not a tree.” Dot nodded. “I can hear you with my ears. Two cats, one of you is larger than the other. The smaller one attacked me. And I am nestled beneath my cousin, this tree hear. I mean here. He protects me. And I trust you not to hurt me. Wait, aren’t cats supposed to be more wary? Never mind, I am wary of you. Who are you? I come from across the river.’

The two cats stared at him in silence. Well, he couldn’t see them, but Dot could feel their eyes looking at him just as heavily as if they had put their paws on him. He never knew that such a thing could feel so heavy. But it was. But he didn’t seem to mind it so much.

“We are cats of WillowClan, and you are on our territory.”

Oh.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh.

So it was exactly as he had heard. He had heard them correctly.

Willow. I am Willow. I am mother willow, and I will be with you forever. Willow willowwillow willow willow.

WillowClan.

“I’m joining you.” Dot said. “I’m not sure what a clan is, but I know I’m supposed to have Willow in my life still, now that I’ve left my mother. Consider me one of you. I will follow you wherever you may lead. I will help you with weeding and planting and talking-tos. After all, three sets of branches is better than two, right?” Dot explained matter-of-factly. It was a straightforward thing to him, just like getting to the fox den, as he was a cat now and not a tree and needed other cats to help guide him, but he could still be useful in things like weeding and planting. Because these cats did that, right?

“Wait, wait.” The one that was named Ella said. “We don’t even know your name.”

“I’m–” Dot cut himself off.

New beginnings.

New Starts.

“I don’t have a name. Give me one.” Dot demanded.

Ella tipped her head. “You seem to like trees. And you’ve got beautiful eyes. I’m going to call you Elmfur for now. We’ll see what Minkstar says.”

Elmfur nodded. Elmfur. Elmfur.
Elmfur.
Elmfur.
Elmfur.
Elmfur.
Elmfur.
Elmfur.
Elmfur.
Elmfur.
Elmfur.

It felt good. It felt right. He knew that the hickory-elm-maple of his family shone in his coat. The green of the leaves was reflected in his eyes. Elmfur felt right. It felt like an odd name, but one that fit who he was meant to become throughout this entire process.

“I want you to know that I don’t trust you, Elmfur.” Daypaw poked his side with her nose. “Your scars look like that of a battle-hardened warrior. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were actually a spy from a faraway clan meant to make us put our guard down–”

“Daypaw, that’s enough!” Ella smacked her apprentice with a sheathed paw. “For all we know, Elmfur is telling the truth and I don’t smell anything on him that would say otherwise. Use your senses, mousebrain.”

“I can’t see, so I use my senses to tell me other things.” Elmfur nodded. “Like, I can smell that you recently ate a mouse, Daypaw. Can you smell what I last ate?”

There was silence for a moment.

“Daypaw, you have to use your voice, he can’t see you shake your head.”

“No, I can’t smell anything.”

“Correct. Because I haven’t eaten in several days.”

“Where are you from, Elmfur?” Ella asked.

It was with a strong sense of nostalgia that Elmfur was able to recount the events of the last several days months years moons suns and everything in between. He wasn’t familiar with how to explain being a tree to these strangers, but he attempted to get the point across as best as he could. Such a thing meant that he had to tell the story of Mother Willow, and at such a thing he could feel the two clan cats look at one another.

“I believe that you should meet our leader, Minkstar. Have you ever heard of StarClan?” Ella asked.

No, he hadn’t. And then the two other cats launched into a discussion that Elmfur couldn’t make hide nor hair of; they spoke of ancestors, of stars and of other cats. Of a code that they had to follow, just like that cloud-cat once had spoken of. A code. What was a code? Was it a way of doing chores just like how Elmfur had done back in his side of the forest? It seemed like it. It seemed like these two cats were following some sort of system that he was unfamiliar with in an effort to maintain a hierarchy that he also didn't know about. There was so much to learn and so so ssosos sos so so sos so so much to do that it made his head hurt just thinking about it.

Elm. Fur.

Elmfur.
Elmfur.
That was his name now. Responding to it wouldn’t be difficult. It wasn’t like his family before had ever said his name or beckoned him closer.

They were leading him to his new home. And Elm fur. Elmfur. Couldn’t wait.

______________________________________________________________________

WillowClan was everything and nothing like he expected it to be. It was all of that and more. It was a mix of smells and sounds and textures beneath his gnarled paws that Elmfur was confused and just wanted to sleep beneath a cousin in the hopes that everything would be normal tomorrow. But this was the new normal, and Elmfur couldn’t wait to explore it more.

He smelled cats. So many cats that he couldn’t make out an exact number. The thing about being raised with trees was that all of them smelled the same way; the smell of wood, particularly wet wood, was something that one could get used to in a way that comforted and allowed reflection. This mix of scents was overwhelming, with each member of the clan having their own identity all packed into one color that burst in Elmfur’s brain when he tried to make sense of anything. So he did what he knew how to do best and stuck to the two that he was familiar with–the scents of Daypaw and Ella were close enough and familiar enough to him that he had no trouble making them out amongst the crowd.

Being brave, he raised his voice. “Ella, can you keep your tail tip on my shoulder so that I can keep track of where I am?” He asked. “I don’t know how to follow you.”

He felt Ella purr–a strange feeling, considering she was a tail-length away–and then her soft fur touch his side. Her fur felt longer than his, a fact that he found strangely comforting in this strange place. If someone as soft as her could survive in a land of scent and sound, surely he would have no trouble doing anything similar.

“Ella, what is this?” A new voice rang over the hush of whispered voices. “I don’t smell another clan on him. Is this a loner?”

Oh, this must be Minkstar. He sounded like a leader. Maybe that’s why he had star at the end of his name in the same way that Elmfur had fur at the end of his own new moniker.

“Yes he is.” Ella nodded. “He’s blind. I found him at the edge of the territory with Daypaw as we were doing hunting practice.”

“Actually, I found him.” Daypaw, indignant, protested. “I had him in a good fighting grip until you pulled me off–” Daypaw cut off as Elmfur felt Ella shift, a paw flashing through the air.

“What is your name, stranger?” Elmfur felt Minkstar’s eyes on him.

“I had no name before this.” Dot was gone. “But Ella named me Elmfur. I believe it fits me well.” He dipped his head in respect to Ella. “I’m going to join your clan.”

Elmfur heard a few hushed gasps, but just felt a rumble of a laugh from the leader in front of him.

“Is that so? Well, I don’t really have any major objections to that sort of thing. If you say that your destiny led you to WillowClan, I believe you. But can you tell me your story, please? Where did you come from?”

Elmfur was tired of explaining that he used to be a tree, but the story came a bit easier this time. He couldn’t help the fondness that crept into his voice when he told of Mother Willow, but at the mention of her name he felt the presences around him soften. They seemed to understand when he said he was able to communicate with trees, having previously been one.

“Well. Yes, your story seems to match. You seem to have a connection with nature in the same way that the medicine cat and I have with StarClan.” Minkstar nodded. “You’ll have to agree to the warrior code, but that’s something we can go over later. Ella, do you agree as well?”

Elmfur was beginning to get the idea that Ella was a bigger deal than he had previously thought.

“I do. We need more people like him in this clan.”

“Then I agree to it as well. Elmfur, by the power vested in me through StarClan, I hereby recognize you as a member of WillowClan. For now you will not be a Warrior, as we need to find exactly where your place is meant to be, but you are one of us now.”

And then, he heard it.

He felt it in his paws.

He smelled it in the way his new clanmates gathered around him.

“Elmfur!”
“Elmfur!”
“Elmfur!”
“Elmfur!”
“Elmfur!”

______________________________________________________________________


Much has changed since then. That was many many many moons ago. Elmfur is still Elmfur, still blind, still a toe missing, but he still knows that he is meant to be a part of WillowClan as much as he was meant to find them in every way.

Finding a place to put him was difficult. He couldn’t be a warrior due to his blindness, but the herbs and communing with StarClan simply didn’t ring with who he was as a person. After much discussion with MinkStar, it was agreed that Elmfur would join the elders’ den and be used wherever he was needed around the camp. Often that meant teaching the apprentices how to hunt with only their nose and ears, but it often met meeting kits and taking care of them while their mothers were out stretching their legs or hunting for the clan.

And Elmfur knows that this is exactly where he was meant to be. He hasn’t gone to visit any of his siblings since then–after all, this is his home, and he has no desire to leave the confines of his territory–but he often catches himself gazing across the river as if he could see what was on the other side. What was Mother Willow doing? Does she know where he has ended up? Does she know that he was meant to be here?

Part of Elmfur knows that Mother Willow was planted to tell him to come here in the first place. If it weren't for whoever had planted the tiny willow seed and let it turn into a large, grandiose tree, he never would’ve found his true home, his true family.

Such things were not without hiccups. It was difficult getting his clanmates to accept him for what he was–a blind tomcat who once truly believed that he was once a tree. But once they came around, they came around quickly. He proved himself, his worth, by listening as well as he talked, by hunting as well as he listened. He had never had to prove himself to his tree-family; they were simply always bigger and better than him. But here, he could be bigger than the kits and smaller than the leader. He could teach the apprentices and learn from the other elders. In a way, he liked being an elder; he was able to help out the camp in the ways that he was most able without being a burden. And the warrior code helped him understand that there was a way of life to such things, a way to the order that had seemed so chaotic at first.

There was a space for him here beneath the trees. He never had to step foot up in the branches again, never needed to feel the wind beneath his paws or the rustling branches pressed up against his fur. Such things were able to be wiped from his memory as if they had never existed in the first place. On one paw, it was terrifying to think that the life he had led up to this point was something that terrified him to think about; on the other, it meant that everything that would come after this was only going to be better than whatever had come before.

The trees didn’t talk to him anymore like they did before. There were whispered words here and there, but for the most part they had gone as silent as they had when the leaves would die off and the snow would fall. Elmfur so long ago would’ve been terrified; Dot would’ve wished for anything except the silence of his family. But they were no longer his family, simply a suggestion of what he should do, who he should be, what he can become. They urge him in the right direction, the way that he can best support his clan with the tools that he has.

Scent.
Touch.
Smell.

The ones that most come into play in his life. And for the first time, Elmfur truly knows–truly believes that he has a family here to support him. He has become overly fond of Daypaw, now Daystripe–the once-ornery kitten had earned her status as a warrior by protecting him from a badger that had wandered onto the territory. He hadn’t even noticed that the thing was there, despite his heightened sense of smell. Daypaw had leaped onto the badger and given it a matching scar to the one that Elmfur wore, sending it running.

Watching her earn her name (well, hearing it), Elmfur knew that he belonged here. There was no doubt left in his heart that these clanmates would protect him with their lives–and he would do the same for them, if the opportunity presented it. Being a warrior (or an elder) meant that the warrior code was meant to be followed for the good of the clan. And by following the code, you become the good in the clan.

Elmfur was good. He was good and he was happy and pleased with the way that his life turned out.


______________________________________________________________________

Elmfur went to StarClan after he died. This hasn’t happened yet, but it will. And Mother Willow will be there to greet him when he does arrive.

“My sapling, you made it. I’m so proud of you.” She will whisper, wrapping her branches around him. “You have lived a life that was full of joy and pain. You brought life into the world and you ended it. You are a good, good cat.”

Elmfur will be proud, tail sticking straight up. “Was I a good tree? Even after I left, I tried to keep your legacy alive, Mother. I know I’m not a tree–I know I never was–but you brought safety to your land. I wanted to do the same to mine.”

Mother Willow will nod. “I am WillowClan, my love. It was my seeds that gave the clan its name. You never left me, and I never left you. For every kit you helped, every apprentice you taught, you truly defined what it meant to be a clan cat and what it meant to follow the warrior code. You have shown that being a clan cat is not by blood, but rather by your actions and the steps you take the leave the world a better place than when you got there.”

Elmfur smiled. Then paused.

“Mother Willow, I’m dead, right?”

Her voice was sad. “Yes, my love. You are. Your time with the clans is over for now, at least in WillowClan. But you are now here in StarClan and can meet your ancestors. Everyone you’ve ever loved is here.”

“Does that mean I can see if I want to, now?” Elmfur asked, hopeful.

“If it is what you truly desire, then yes. You may have your sight restored.” Mother Willow confirmed.

Elmfur paused. “I think I’m alright for now, actually. My blindness brought me here. I don’t know if I would’ve ever left the forest if I had never been attacked by that fox.” He explained, flicking his tail. “I’d like to stay blind for now. Maybe I’ll want to see what my clanmates actually looked like in the future. I’m not sure if I know what a cat really looks like. Or what it means to look like a cat.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Goodbye for now, Mother Willow. See you soon.”

[FeatheredLocust]

Username: FeatheredLocust
Cat Name: Tamiel
Gender: Cis Male, he/him
Rank: The Archangel
Clan: The Clubs
Age: 4 years
Prompt:

Note: This novelette is now done! My Google Doc wordcount says that this is 10002 words- if your word counter shows less, let me know and I can either provide proof it says 10002 on mine or write more :).

Prologue
You flick your tail as you begin to examine the camp around you. It is in an abandoned house, with naught but candles lit with magic flames lighting the area. You can see the bodies of many catlike angels as they pace the house and go on with their daily lives. They all seemed so invested in their work among the group, as some healed the injured from the battle, some watched out the windows for signs of dangers, and some carried familiar lantern-like items as they summoned a small portal back to the Upper Realm.
Normally, you would be one of the latter workers. If you were busy, you would be capturing the souls of a fallen angel or risen demon in the Soul Lantern that the First Nameless Soul gave you, and returning them to them. But alas, right now, you had bigger things to think about.
The first thought you had was, was Hunting really a good idea for you? Was it something you enjoyed, or was it only making you feel worse?
And the second was… This strange group. Hunter groups were common, but you have never seen anything quite like this. They called themselves the Clubs, and they were not just hunting the fallen angels and risen demons that roamed the Earth as punishment for betraying their respective Nameless Souls… No, rather, they were also hunting a group of demon Hunters. That group called themselves the Spades, and these two groups were constantly in a war. It sickened you in a way. If you had known that this was how these people acted, if you had known that these two groups were constantly trying to kill each other, you would have just remained a sole Hunter.
With a sigh, you turn to walk down the hallway. You enter the bedroom that is on the very end. “You summoned me, my Archangel?” you hummed out.
The Archangel sat atop a chair, its blue eyes- one blinded and scarred- lit by the candlelight. “Ah, yes. It is lovely to see you, Zadkiel. Thank you for coming. Please sit down.”
He motioned to you with his tail, to which you responded by sitting down and bowing your head. “May I help you, my Archangel?”
“Please, call me Tamiel,” he chirped lightly to you. “No need to be all fancy with me, hm? We are all friends here, after all.” He leaped down from the chair he sat in, before walking up and sitting in front of you. “Now, Zadkiel, I heard from one of the other Virtues that you were confused about some of the things we do. I know you are new and all… So I want to give you the chance to ask any questions you really want answers to. So go ahead! I am all ears, Zadkiel. Ask me anything you want to ask. I am listening”
You stood and stared for a while, before asking, “Well… I was curious about one thing. Why must we fight the Spades constantly? It seems incredibly unnecessary and violent. I mean… I get we are Hunters. I get that it is just… Natural for us to be somewhat more violent. It is necessary if we ever want to get the souls of the rebellious back to the first, right? But I do not think… We should be fighting other Hunters. It seems like it hinders our work more than anything. So why? Why are we not just able to be friends with the Spades, or at least agree to disagree? It seems like if we do that, then all of our problems will be solved. So why do we not do so, Tamiel?”
You immediately realize you must have suggested something wrong, as the gentle smile from Tamiel immediately faded. “You must think it is so easy to get along, huh?” he muttered. “Well, you have to understand that the Spades are incredibly disagreeable. They are extremely frustrating to deal with, and they have no rationality! They are nothing but cheaters and liars. All they do is cheat, lie, and steal to get their catch, and if we decide to be nice, they will do nothing but take advantage of us. After all, we serve two different Nameless Souls, two with opposing values and beliefs. Why should we get along with those demons when they refuse to do anything good?”
“Because it is easier that way…” You mutter. “This does not get us anywhere. If anything, it thins our group out more. It is sickening! And how do you know that they are not safe? How do you know that they are all cheaters and liars and thieves? What proof do you have that they are all like this?”
“I have a lot of proof.” The archangel flicked his tail. “Now… How about this? I will tell you a story so that hopefully, it can aid your understanding. How long of a story do you want this to be? Where do you want me to start?”
“Start from the very beginning,” you reply. “I would like to understand everything that has occurred. Please.”
“How much time do you have?” he asked.
“All day, if necessary.”
“Hm… Well, alright. But just let me know if I go back too far, okay?”
“Okay. I doubt you will be able to go too far back."
“Alright. Well, in that case it all started about four years ago when I first started this current reincarnation of mine…”

Chapter One
I awoke beneath the throne of the First Nameless Soul.
Almost immediately, I was slammed with knowledge of who I was, where I was, and why I was here. My name, I recalled, was Tamiel. I was an angel, in constant servitude to the First Nameless Soul, and always had been. I was in the Upper Realm, my forever home since the dawn of time. I was as ancient as the rest of the souls here, but unlike them, I only had two previous reincarnations compared to the others' many, many ones. I had effectively been in the Upper Realm in all three of my lives, and both of my past two reincarnations resulted in me dying from an accident- the first time was another angel accidentally killing me during a combat practice, and the second from a freak accident that resulted in another angel accidentally killing me with a… Garbage can, somehow. Yeah, I do not like to talk about it.
So… Essentially? I was pretty much one of the more boring angels. Especially now that my form was naught but a realistic housecat, meanwhile everyone else seemed to have much more colorful and humanoid forms. It was somewhat of an upsetting revelation.
Despite this, I looked up at the First Nameless Soul, and asked them, “What is my job this time?” I stared up at them as long as I could, staring at their always shifting and changing form. My heart filled with their cold yet comforting love, as bright and as pure as the rest of the realm that surrounded me.
They replied with their many voices, “My dear child, I have the perfect job for you. Our last Soul Caretaker has unfortunately made some severely bad choices, and as such, they are now fallen. I have a request for you…”
I held my breath. Were they going to ask me to hunt them down? Or was that just a false hope? I had always heard Hunters were always some of the most prestigious angels there were. They were always so respected and honored, and part of me wanted that… But also, I wanted the adventure. I had never seen Earth, known as the Middle Realm, before. I wanted to adventure in that unknown realm so badly…
“Please take the reins and handle the Soul caretaking for me. I hope you realize this is the most prestigious job available. So do not disappoint me, okay?”
I felt my heart sink slightly, but still, I mumbled a small, “I understand. I will not disappoint you, my Lord.” Oh well… Maybe I could go on an adventure in the Middle Realm another day. Soul Caretaking could not be quite that bad, right?
Oh, how wrong I was. Soul Caretaking was perhaps one of the most dull things I had ever done. It was nothing but sitting in a cramped booth, listening to the incomprehensible wails of invisible Souls as they were shoved into a large spacious room after being returned to the Upper Realm by the Hunters. I was bored out of my mind every single day, and the days began to blur together.
Before I knew it, two long years had passed, and nothing had changed. At this point, it was all so dull that I was so desperate to just try and escape it in any way I could. So… I devised a plan.
To get a Soul into the caretaking room, there was a magical barrier that allowed any Soul to get in, but not escape. However, the barrier could so easily be deactivated by the flip of a switch. This was only ever used in severe emergencies, but… In my bored mind, this seemed like an emergency enough.
So, I reached a paw out to the switch, and pulled down on it as hard as I could.
The wails in a language I did not understand began to fade, until there was none left. The silence was so peaceful. I had never known that I enjoyed silence until then, but the quiet formed a little symphony that I was completely unfamiliar with. It was so beautiful…
… But it did not last for long, as I soon found myself underneath the throne of my Nameless Soul once again. I could feel the scalding hot anger radiate from their body as they yowled to me, “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! I TRUSTED YOU! WHY WOULD YOU FAIL AT YOUR JOB SO SEVERELY!”
I found myself unable to talk. Whatever excuse I could make got stuck in my throat and threatened to choke me. I was so overwhelmed with guilt, as I could only choke out, “I am so, so, so, so, so sorry, my Lord. I do not know why I thought that was a good idea. But no apologies will fix what I have done, so please, make me fall now. That is my sole request, for I deserve it for what I have done.”
After a few moments, the unbearably hot anger was soon replaced by a cold sense of comfort and understanding. “Do you genuinely not know, or are you afraid of telling me why you pulled the lever, or are you afraid to tell me because you think I will be disappointed in you?”
Again, I found myself unable to reply.
“Tamiel. I only make those who do not show guilt or remorse fall. I have seen great remorse from you. Please tell me what is wrong, so I can fix it. Please.”
I took a shaky breath, before replying, “My Lord… I am truly sorry, but I find the career you have given me extremely boring and dull. I found myself desperate to escape it, and in my impulsivity, I pulled the lever. I apologize, for I realize now I should have told you, but I admit that I have always fretted to do so. I felt as if you would have judged me.”
“I do not judge those who have valid feelings. Your feelings of boredom are valid, and I understand. What do you seek to be in your heart?”
“I have always wished to be an adventurer. I wish to adventure in as many realms as I possibly could, rather than just be relegated to being in the Upper Realm forever. I just wish to see new things. Does that make any sense, my Lord?”
“Yes, of course. I understand, young Tamiel… Though are you aware that you could have simply requested to leave the Upper Realm on vacation at any point?”
“I could?”
“Yes, you could. Though, I do suppose that would not solve the fact that you are still bored of your job, and even if you were not, you have so grossly betrayed your duties that I have no choice to fire you from that specific station… So, how about this? I can assign you to be a Hunter, so you can at least explore the Middle Realm so long as you do your job and return the rebellious souls you capture back to me. Does that sound like a good idea?”
“Yes! Yes, of course! Thank you!” I swished my tail in pure excitement, and looked up at them with pure joy.
They gave me a gentle chuckle, before handing over a Soul Lantern to me. “This is what you will use to capture Souls. Any souls you hunt or just randomly happen upon will fly immediately into this lantern, and you will be able to return them after. I can not wait to see how you do, Tamiel. If you ever need to switch jobs again, please just inform me.”
“I will, my Lord,” I replied, my head still bowed as I reached out to grab the Soul Lantern.
“Now, go! Hunt as many of the fallen angels and risen demons that you can, and have an adventure so grand that no other angel could ever compare theirs to yours!”
“I will! Thank you again, my Lord!” I chirruped in reply before I summoned a portal and exited the Upper Realm.

Chapter Two
As I took my first pawsteps into the Middle Realm, I almost immediately got overwhelmed by how… Severely polluted it was. I was not sure if it was even in a good or bad way. The Upper Realm was so monochromatic beyond the colors of the angels that inhabited it, while the Middle Realm was covered in every single color I could think of. It was also so clean back up in the Upper Realm, while the Middle Realm was covered in dust, dirt, and only the Nameless Souls know whatever else was in the air and ground of the Middle Realm. If the Third Nameless Soul were around, I would ask them why they would even want to make such a filthy realm, but alas… As you already know, they have been gone for a long while.
This strange shock aside, I started my adventure and my new career. I was in a city known as Las Vegas. Many strange fallen angels and risen demons liked to gather here, especially ones associated with greed. After all, what is more greedy than gambling? Not much comes to mind.
After working on the job for a few months, I learned the quickest and most painless ways to take out the fallen angels and risen demons I took down, because though it was my job to kill and return them, I still did not enjoy watching pain. I only wanted them to get a new, better reincarnation that I knew the First Nameless Soul would give them. After all, the First Nameless Soul is merciful and loving, so why would I not strive to be similar where I could?
One night, I was lurking inside of a casino, when I saw a fallen angel I recognized lurking around and gambling on some of the machines. The fallen angel was a griffin centaur known as Kokabiel, and their reputation preceded them massively. They were formerly a Lampkeeper, watching over the stars and making sure none of them dimmed or went out as they lit the Middle and Upper Realms. But then one day, they decided to betray all of their duties and go down to the Middle Realm to harass a rich human for money, making the Sun go dark in an attempt to convince them. This only lasted for a few moments, as the First Nameless Soul soon made them fall and returned the sun back to its previous state. And even then, they were notorious as one of the hardest fallen angels to hunt- they were incredibly knowledgeable on Hunters and how to avoid them. If I could hunt Kokabiel, well, I essentially made it, right?
My pupils turned into thin slits as I sized the humanoid up. They were much bigger than me, but I reassured myself it would be fine. I could easily take down this giant if I put my mind to it, right? It did not matter if they could essentially step on me if I planned this out right…
… But suddenly, I got distracted by a different scent. This scent was reminiscent of ash and soot… A demon!
I turned to face a demon that had been lurking behind me. To my surprise, this demon also took a more natural cat form, and had this beautiful orange and gray fur that covered it. “Hello,” it hummed out. “Nice Soul Lantern you have there. So you are a Hunter, right?” Its tone sounded somewhat sarcastic and grumpy, but underneath its cold orange eyes I could sense a hint of playfulness and lightheartedness.
“Depends, who is asking?” I replied.
“Well, are you asking for names or careers? If you want names, my name is Furfur.”
“... Furfur? That is an interesting name.”
“In my defense, I did not pick it. I think it is kind of stupid to name a catlike demon freaking ‘Furfur’ too, but you know… It is not like I can really change it.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Then why not?”
“Because even if it is stupid, I do not care enough to change it.”
“And if you did care enough… What do you think you would name yourself?”
“Hm… I think I would name myself something like ‘Fracture.’ That sounds like a nice name, though I guess it is not really demonlike enough to be a real name.”
“Hah… I guess not. Oh, and my name is Tamiel. It is nice to meet you, Furfur. What is your career?”
“I am actually a Hunter myself, as well.”
“Oh! Are you a risen demon that the First Nameless Soul decided to convert into an angel? I have heard that happens sometimes! I think that is really cool when it happens, and-”
“No. I am just a demon. The Second Nameless Soul needs the souls to make into new demons and humans as much as the First Nameless Soul needs them to make new angels and humans, you know?”
“... Is it stupid that I did not know?”
“I would say yes, but I am assuming you are extremely new to this sort of career path.”
“How did you know?”
“Because you allowed me to distract you from your hunting, and an experienced Hunter would not have allowed that… Nor allowed their hunt to get away.”
I whirled back around to find Kokabiel completely gone without a trace. “Dammit!” I hissed.
“Eh, do not beat yourself up too much about it. They would have either gotten away or killed you anyways. Kokabiel is no matter to be taken lightly. They are one of the strongest fallen angels around, and they are not really a fallen angel I would suggest for a new Hunter to try and reap. Go with an easier and smaller one, and you should be fine.”
“Thank you… Why are you helping me, though?”
It shrugged. “I do not hate most other Hunters without a good reason to do so, no matter which Nameless Soul they serve. Infighting will only really make my job harder, so what is the point? Perhaps there is a good point to some, but having a rivalry has always seemed just…So incredibly stupid to me.”
“I think I understand,” I hummed back gently, before giving it a suggestion: “Have you ever considered a friendly rivalry?”
“... A what?” Furfur seemed confused. “I do not think I understand what you mean by a ‘friendly rivalry.’ Are those two things not completely disconnected from each other?”
“Not at all! I think a friendly rivalry is like… When you and someone else are competitive to each other, but in a genuinely friendly way. We try to one up each other, but instead of using it as a means to fight, we use it as a means to try and improve each other and as a way to stay motivated and not slack off! Does that make sense?”
“Hmm… I think so,” it replied. “Are you trying to say that you want us to be friendly rivals or whatever?”
“Well… If you are up for it, yeah! Sure, we could be friendly rivals if you want!”
“I just met you,” Furfur teased. “But… You know what? Sure. We can be friendly rivals. But I guess if you really want to be so… I gotta show you something.”
“Oh, really? Then lead the way,” I replied.
It gave me a small nod, before leading me out of the casino. We roamed the streets for a while, and I took in the sights that surrounded me, before it paused at a house. It was somewhat run-down and abandoned, but otherwise it seemed like it was fine.
“What is this for?” I asked.
“Well, I figured that you might like a house to live in. Here is a good one, and I only live a couple of blocks away. So, perfect for that ‘friendly rivalry’ or whatever you called it if we decided to live near each other, right?”
“Hm… Yeah! You are right! Thank you so much!”
“No problem. I am going to get home now, but if you need anything else, my house is small and white with a blue roof.
“Small and white with a blue roof… Got it! Goodbye!”
I bolted into the house and immediately made myself at home. It even still had some furniture, and while it smelled somewhat musty and weird, I still appreciated it. At worst, I could change out the furniture for newer and nicer smelling ones later.
For now, though, I had something to think about, and sleep to catch up on. All of my dreams were of Furfur, and how lovely it seemed to be.

Chapter Three
As the next few months went on, Furfur and I bonded more and more, and the dreams I had of it only got more and more vivid and beautiful. Though we kept up with our little work rivalry and kept one upping each other wherever we could, we were still incredibly close friends. We were like two peas in a pod at times, often never going somewhere non-work related without the other. We did nearly everything together! I learned so many things from Furfur I would have never known otherwise. Knowing that it would likely be a long time before I managed to get access to the Lower Realm, they described it in vivid detail to me- a monochromatically red place of fire and brimstone, where ash and soot covered every square inch of the realm. I listened with nothing short but pure curiosity and awe. I learned things about demons, the Lower Realm, and the Second Nameless Soul that I would likely have never known without its help, and most of all, I learned that not all demons were as evil as they claimed to be. Some could be quite nice if they were just given the chance… Just like Furfur. My best friend. Perhaps even more than a best friend, though I never was quite certain on that part of my feelings.
So, when Furfur invited me to this strange party that was happening on the block, I was never entirely sure what to think of it. I, admittedly, had never been to a party before this point. Especially not a party hosted by demons, as this one was. I had heard demons were quite the party animals, and, well… I was not entirely certain what that was even supposed to mean, but I was sure I was about to find out!
When I got there, Furfur was already there, wearing a beautiful yellow-orange tuxedo with a black bowtie. They were chatting with an anthropomorphic wolverine demon and a faun angel who were already inside of the house. It seemed to be quite friendly with them, and for a brief moment, I almost felt… Envious. I was not really sure why. I had never been envious of anything before this very moment! Maybe it was just the party atmosphere, or maybe it was just my nerves acting up. I was never quite sure which one was the culprit of my confused and muddied feelings.
After a few moments, Furfur turned to see me standing awkwardly at the front of the door. It excused itself from its friends to make its way to me, as it purred out in greeting, “Oh, hey, Tamiel! It is nice to see you finally made it. Come in! Go talk to some people, make yourself comfortable. I did not want myself to be your only friend, so it only makes sense that I get you some more people to chat with, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied, before walking over to someone random and striking up a conversation with them. That conversation was nice, but did not last for long, so I soon ended up wandering to another person, and trying the same thing with them. Again, that ended shortly, and this was a never-ending loop for what felt like eternity.
After a while, I joined in on some games of pool as Furfur taught me how to play. Then it went to play Poker, and I joined in as well. It taught me how to play that as well, though it gave me a warning: “Now, I have to warn you before we start playing, I am a bit of a card sharp. So do not get mad if I win a lot, okay?”
I distinctly remember chirping back, “Okay! How could I ever get mad at you, my dear friend? Especially not for something as menial as a dumb little game that you are good at! Do not worry at all about it!”
“Alright, if you are sure,” I remember it humming back to me.
The night went on and on, and I remember Furfur always won, no matter what. It really was a card sharp, huh? I felt so impressed and proud of my friend, and I wanted to impress it so badly. I thought and thought, but it seemed like it was just… Always so lucky! No matter what, it always got the best hand, it always won the game. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.
Eventually though, I soon discovered how it was winning. I saw it messing with cards, and when I pointed it out to the angel beside me, they noted that what it was doing was called mucking the cards.
It was cheating at this game. It was not being honest. It was cheating and lying to me and to everyone who trusted it to play this game with it. Suddenly, I felt a new emotion: Betrayal. I was so furious. I hissed at it, “Why would you cheat?!”
“People cheat,” it replied. “That is just how the game goes. People cheat at poker all the time. It is nothing really new. Are you angry about it?”
“I am very angry about it! Why would you cheat?! We trusted you!”
“Well, in the game of poker, trust nobody. Now… Would you like to try and settle this dispute with a, ahem… ‘friendly rivalry?’”
“A brawl?”
“No, a nice chat… Yes, a brawl!”
“Fine!”
And so, for a while, we fought. It was not the most severe or dangerous fight… In fact, it was more like play fighting than anything. At least… Until the accident happened. I will spare you the details of the accident, but just know… It was bad. It was bad, and I did not mean for it to happen. But once it did happen, I did not know what to do. So… I ran. I fled the scene as fast as I could back home, and rested my head.
When I awoke, I felt a little ill from the stress of last night, but I set it aside. I had a gnawing feeling in my stomach when I thought about it, but I decided to go and check on Furfur. I missed it a little, and I did want to see how it was doing after the party.
I walked down the streets that I knew like second nature at this point, and made my way to the familiar house I knew. Small and white house with a blue roof. Somewhat abandoned on the outside, nicely furnished inside. A good temporary home for a Hunter who spent a lot of time out in the Middle Realm.
Once I got to the house, I did not even bother to knock. I simply entered. After all, Furfur had done the same to me many times before, who was to say that it would care if I did the same?
As I entered, I saw Furfur resting on the couch, half of its face and its chest bandaged up. Suddenly, I got worried. I had not meant for it to get as hurt as it did, and now I felt nothing but guilt.
I watched it gently stir as it glanced up at me with its uninjured eye. “What do you want?” they growled at me. The growl was much lower and colder than I was used to, and it almost scared me.
“Uh… I just wanted to check on you. I got a little worried about you after the party, and I really started to miss you-”
“MISS ME?!” it hissed out, “Worried?! Well! I sure hope you are worried after what you did to me, you piece of crap! All I did at Poker. I cheated and this is how you got me back for that! You ruined me for just… Cheating at a game! A game where no money was even being betted, or… Or anything!”
“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
“Make it better?! I do not know, can you make me not half blind? Make my vision 20/20 instead of 20/0… Or 0/20, or whatever? Bring back that 2 you removed?”
“No…” I murmured back. “But… Maybe I can fix it another way.”
“And what ‘other way’ would that be?”
“Well… I have heard this saying a lot among some people. Something about ‘an eye for an eye,’ right? Well…” I gently leaned down, making my head as low as I could get it. “Maybe we could take it literally.”
Furfur seemed to hesitate for a moment as it looked me up and down. I wondered if it was trying to find any hint that I was lying… Or that I was going to hurt it again. After this long moment, it sighed out, “Fine,” as it unsheathed its claws. “Just know that this does not mean I forgive you. I will never forgive you for this, Tamiel. You lost that chance the moment you decided to run.”

Chapter Four
Say what you will about Furfur, it always means what it says. It told the truth that morning: it really would never, ever forgive me as long as we lived. What used to be friendly correspondence was now replaced with one-eyed death glares from across the streets, what used to be friendly competition was now replaced by Furfur absolutely refusing to be beaten by me for anything. I let it get me back, and part of me wanted that to be enough. Part of me wished that was enough. But it was not, and it never would be.
For a long time, I grieved over that friendship that wilted at my paws. I grieved over what could have been for us, were it not for that one accident, were it not for one mistake. My constant vivid and sweet dreams of Furfur soon shifted into nightmares that haunted me in the night, and caused me to lose sleep. I could feel my heart break into a million little pieces each time I thought of it, and it hurt so bad.
But after a while, after so many glares of anger and sharp words from its tongue, it stopped hurting. And instead, my emotions turned into nothing but pure fury. How dare it! It was an accident, and it knew it! Why was it so upset and angry over an accident! Why was one little accident a good enough cause to just up and throw our friendship away! I never understood it, nor would I ever understand. It was simply easier to be angry at it right back for never wanting to be my friend again. Whatever sadness I had was masked, and that made it easier to process. That made it easier to work through somehow. So we effectively went from friendly rivals to moral enemies who were always trying to beat each other in their respective career related ways that perhaps ultimately did nothing but benefit both of the Nameless Souls.
As for the First Nameless Soul, I think after a while, they began to realize something was wrong. Every time they saw me, they would pull me aside to ask me what was wrong. They would ask me if I needed to talk through emotions or work, they would inform me that they were always here for me if I needed them. I would always decline, I would always tell them that they did not need to worry themself over me. After all, they were already so busy, it was not fair for me to take up more of their time than I already have! Nevertheless, they got more and more worried, more insistent. They asked me how my eye got injured and I became half blind, but I simply lied to them and told them that I got into a fight with a fallen angel who did that to me. I am not 100% sure they believed me, but it at least got them to stop asking about it. After all, I was still working. I was still doing what they requested me to do, and I was still trying my best to be the best Hunter around. What does it matter that my relationship with what used to be my best friend is now completely strained to the point we have become just mortal enemies?
After a while, I noticed Furfur was beginning to not show up a lot anymore. It seemed to disappear for long amounts at a time, and return with seemingly nothing important to bear. This confused me. Where could it even be going? What could it even be doing that is so important to up and leave the Middle Realm for days on end without a trace? Of course, I had to find out. If my gut feeling was right, this was majorly important, and well… Any information I could get on whatever it was doing would help me one up it in the future. I wandered Las Vegas for days, hunting but with one minor variation: if the fallen angel or risen demon knew anything about what was occurring with Furfur and willingly told me, I would spare its return to the First Nameless Soul (for now). It took a long while, but I did finally manage to find a little risen demon that was about the size of me that I caught up to and asked for information. It took them a little bit to reply, but they soon revealed to me that Furfur was disappearing for days on end to get new Hunters to join it and form a group with it. Hunter groups were nothing new, of course… But it still somehow upset me. I believed that this would give it an unfair advantage against me, and this would result in me falling behind my demonic nemesis. I could not allow that. I would never allow this for as long as I was in this reincarnation.
I asked the little risen demon, “Do you know the name of this group? Do you know who is planning to join? Do you know how many people are joining?”
They replied, “I am not entirely sure. I think the group is called the Spades, and I believe that the people who are joining are all catlike demons in nature. I do not know how many people are joining its group, but… I heard a rumor that it cut a deal with the Second Nameless Soul, so they are helping it get more members every now and then by intentionally making a new Hunter with a catlike form every now and then so that it would always have new people to help it hunt.”
“Thank you for the honest answers,” I told the risen demon. “You may leave now, if you want.”
As the risen demon fled, I sat back and contemplated what I should do about this. A whole brand new group! How rash! How would it even know that the group would work? How would it know that they would be successful? It did not know, nor could it know, I was certain. The only thing it was sure of was that it thought it could try and one up me with this. Well, too bad! It is going to find out soon that it was never going to be that easy. I would never let it beat me if I could help it.
So, I pulled something similar. I went to Heaven, and appealed to every catlike hunter I could find to try and join my group of Hunters. I got a good amount of people with this, and soon, I had my own group of cat angels who were willing to help me hunt the fallen angels and risen demons that lurked the streets and casinos of Las Vegas. And yet… I still was not satisfied with this group. No, there was still one more thing I needed to do.
I made my way to the First Nameless Soul’s throne, and bowed my head to them. “Hello, my Lord,” I gently hummed to them. “I apologize for disturbing you, I know how busy you must be.”
“You are not disturbing me, my child,” the First Nameless Soul replied, a chilly comfort coming from them. “Are you finally ready to discuss what is occurring with you, or… Are you here to request something different?”
“Discuss what is occurring with me…? No. I do not really have anything important occurring with me,” I lied. “Do not worry about me. I simply wanted to make a request to you, my Lord.”
“A request? What is your request?”
“Well… I made a Hunter group recently. It is solely for people with catlike forms like my own, so I can teach them the ways I have learned to use my form to my advantage. I wish to refer to it as ‘the Clubs,’ and if you just give us a chance, I am sure we will rise up to be one of the most daring and strongest Hunter groups known in the universe! So, if you please just give me a chance to prove it to you… Could you perhaps help me find new members? Perhaps you could send me new catlike Hunters when they are reincarnated, and we could get even bigger and more talented!”
“Hmm…” The First Nameless Soul hummed. “Is this the only reason that you are wanting this group? So that you can help others learn to Hunt as well as you do, and serve me better”
“Yes, my Lord!” I lied.
The First Nameless Soul was quiet. I could feel the comforting chilliness ebb into a warm annoyance, as they hissed, “Why are you lying to me?”
“What?”
“Do not act like you are completely and blissfully unaware of what I am talking about. I know you know exactly what I mean. I know everything that occurred with Furfur. Why do you think I keep trying to check on and talk to you about your emotions, Tamiel? I know you are not trying to benefit others, you are being selfish and trying to be better than it because of your own deep-seated anger and betrayal. Mind you, it has a good reason to not want to associate with you anymore! You injured it so severely, and even though it was an accident, it does not owe you forgiveness. Do you understand?”
“... Yes,” I lied once more. “I understand, my Lord. I apologize.”
Again, the First Nameless Soul was quiet. For a moment, I expected them to get absolutely furious at me for lying again, but instead, they could only sigh. “Fine. I accept your apology, and I will consider perhaps getting you some new members. But… For now, I think your group is okay at the size it is. You do not need too many members for now, for even a small number of angels can make a job well done if you give them the chance.”
“I understand. Thank you, my Lord.”
“It is no burden to me. Goodbye, Tamiel.”
With that, I opened a portal back to my home in the Middle Realm. I hummed gently as I began to set up what was once a home for me alone to be a home to many more angels. This was going to be our camp, our home… My mind flooded with the image of so many angels inside of this run down house, talking and hunting and bonding. It was a second chance for me. A chance to make new friends, a chance to be an even better hunter, a chance to recover from everything that had happened during the year I had been on Earth.
So I got my angels back down to Earth, and we got to work. After getting someone to spy on the Spades, I discovered how that group’s hierarchy functioned: Furfur was the leader, known as the Archdemon, and everyone else who was just a member was known as a Sin. I decided to take this hierarchy and use it in the Clubs, making myself the Archangel and everyone else a Virtue. Eventually, both the Clubs and the Spades were at the top of the Hunter groups for Las Vegas, and no other group stood in our way.
This made it so that our only enemies were each other. And that was fine. That was the purpose of the Clubs, after all.
After a while, Furfur came knocking at my door. It was almost attacked by one of the other Virtues, but I stopped them as I approached it. “What do you want, Furfur?” I hissed to it.
“I would like to discuss something somewhat diplomatic between our groups, if you do not mind. I am not here to hurt you today,” it replied
“Hm… Fine. What is it?”
It placed down a map and a pen. It wrote 2 X’s on it, and explained, “So this is my group’s camp, and this is your group’s camp. I wanted to suggest that we take specific territory for us to hunt on, and that we do not intrude on each other’s territory unless necessary. I was thinking…” It made two boxes among a couple of blocks. “This is your territory, and this is mine. Anything that is not in the boxes belongs to neither of us. We can only hunt souls in our own territories and anything that does not belong to either of us. So, that at least gives us some fairness. How does that sound, Tamiel?”
I stared down at the map. Part of me was almost hesitant to accept, but after a few moments, I nodded. “You know what? Sure, that sounds fair to me. I accept this as our territories. Thank you for pitching the idea to me.”
“No problem,” Furfur replied. With that, it handed me the map and turned around. “I guess in that case, I will see you around later.” It began to walk away, though it did pause to look back to me for just a moment, for whatever reason.
Once it was out of my sight, I reentered my camp and made the announcement of the new territories to my Virtues. They all seemed understanding of it, and they all promised not to intrude on the Spades’ territory unless absolutely necessary. I was satisfied and happy with this.

Chapter Five
For a few months, this system of territory that Furfur devised worked incredibly well with no issues. All of the Sins and all of the Virtues understood the rules quite well, and as such, we had no incidents of any unfair advantages, cheating, or otherwise rule-breaking from the others. This was when we had peace, and the peace was so serene and soothing. I could sleep easy knowing my group was thriving, and that the Spades were no longer an issue I had to deal with. If anything, the Spades had faded to become nothing but a memory in my head. I never had to stress out about anything that was unnecessary, and… For a moment, for a blissful little moment, I forgot Furfur existed. The constant dreams I had of it faded to leave nothing but a comforting void of darkness in my sleep. It was so perfect for a while. Though, eventually, I began to get bored again. The same boredom that had seeped into me a long time ago when I had originally become a soul caretaker was now returning to me at the worst place possible. At this point, I had seen the entirety of Las Vegas, and now part of me was telling me to just… Ditch this group I had worked to make and go wander the world. Would it cause me to fall? Maybe. But at least it would be something new, and at least I would get to have a new adventure. And besides… It is not like it matters that much. There are so many other hunters in the Middle Realm, and if I did decide to leave, someone else would take the reins of the Clubs for me.
And then Temeluchus came from the Upper Realm and requested to join.
Temeluchus was almost like free entertainment to me, as much as I hate to admit it. They were always somewhat of a chaotic angel, and I could not help but wonder how they had not fallen themself, for I soon found they had a penchant for trouble. They would often cause trouble just for the fun of it, and for a long while, I did not aptly correct these infractions. Why? Well… I admit it was solely because I thought their constant troublemaking was genuinely entertaining. It was like watching a really bad sitcom that was on loop because of how dull everything else on the television was. The constant trouble they caused was the only thing keeping my routine, once dreamy life from becoming completely depressing, dull, and uninteresting… And so, I only lightly scolded them every single time, the verbal equivalent of a slap on a wrist for every fluid ounce of trouble they caused.
But those fluid ounces of trouble only filled the cup that was Temeluchus more and more, and eventually, without me pouring out any of the liquid trouble from the cup, it overflowed. One night, Temeluchus decided that it had enough of only causing trouble within the confines of the Clubs, I suppose. They snuck out during the night when most of us were either asleep or too busy to notice. They apparently went onto Spades territory and started to do everything they were not supposed to do on Spades territory- from hunting fallen angels and risen demons, to trashing the entire place, to finally breaking into the Spades’ camp and initiating a fight with one.
So… You can imagine my shock when one of my Virtues shook me awake and said, “Tamiel! My Archangel, you need to wake up now! Temeluchus just messed up literally EVERYTHING!”
“Everything?” I grumbled as I tried to wake up. “... I doubt they could mess everything up. They can mess up a lot, yes, but saying they mess everything up is a bit too harsh…”
“Furfur is here, Tamiel! And it is FURIOUS!”
“... Oh. Oh no. Oh no!” I immediately bolted upright and out to the door. As expected, there was Temeluchus, standing there and shaking slightly beside Furfur, who towered above them. The rest of their Sins surrounded the area too, looking as if they were ready for anything. For a moment, I worried for Temeluchus, as the poor thing gave me an absolutely terrified look as I walked over to them. Gently, I placed a paw on their head and turned to Furfur. “What did you do to them?!” I hissed, immediately assuming it had hurt them.
“I did not do anything!” It hissed back. “Your Virtue here, on the other hand… They decided to infiltrate our territory and cause nothing but trouble. Do you know how much of a mess they made?! It took hours to clean up, and they hurt one of my Sins! So, I held them as a prisoner for just a few hours as we cleaned up the mess they caused us. Then I immediately came here with them, both to return them to you and ask why this happened. I thought that it was understood among all of your Virtues not to step foot on our territory unless they were given permission, so I am, quite frankly, at a loss for how this could have happened.”
I glanced down to Temeluchus, and gently asked, “Did you know that you were on Spade territory?”
“No,” they shakily replied. I knew they were lying solely to try and get out of trouble, but for now, I just let it be. I had bigger fish to fry.
I turned back to Furfur and said, “There, they didn’t know that they were on your territory. I apologize, I must not have given them a good enough training when they got here… They are still relatively new. I will fix this as soon as possible, Furfur.”
“I am soooooo sorry, Furfur,” Temeluchus said as they turned and began to give it puppy eyes. “Can you forgive me and pretend this never happened? Pleaaaaassseeeeee? For meeeee?”
Oh, crap. There was only one way begging it like that was going to go.
“I am not going to forgive you if you act like that!” It hissed in response. “Begging me gets you nowhere. And besides, I do not forgive people if they do not give me a damn good reason to.” It glared over at me as it said this, as if it were expecting a response from me.
Rather than regard what the comment was intended to be, I grumbled, “Are you unable to just forgive Temeluchus this one time? Is it really that much of an issue? If you just forgive them, I am sure they will learn their lesson and never do it again. We will be okay, and you will not have to stress out any more about it. There was not even harm done. Does that not sound good?”
“No! I am not going to forgive them!” Furfur hissed. “Why would I even dream of forgiving them only because you told me to?! If I forgive them, it will be on my own sweet time, thank you very much! And besides, ‘no harm done,’ you say? One of my Sins got hurt because Temeluchus just wanted to cause a little bit of trouble for no good reason! If there is something I will never forgive, it is someone who hurts people and does not regret it. I doubt they truly regret it. I have seen how they act firsthand. I thought they were a fallen angel at first, for the Nameless Souls’ sakes! Why would you let someone like this join your group?”
“Temeluchus is a valuable asset, and I am sure they regret it! If you would just… Forgive and forget for once in your life, maybe you would learn that!”
“Forgive and forget? Why? Are you upset that I never forgave and forgot for your sake? Are you projecting your feelings and emotions onto this angel who caused an absolute mess?!”
I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead, I unsheathed my claws.
It noticed this, and hissed, “Oh, are you looking for another brawl? I was kind of hoping that after the last time you brawled me, you would have learned your lesson… But hey! I guess you probably think you will get another ‘freak accident’ and win again, do you not? Come on. Do it. Fight me. I promise you will not win this time.”
I hissed back, “Fine, if that is what you want me to do…!” before pouncing on them.
As we began to fight, the Sins and Virtues began to do the same, and soon the place was effectively a battlefield. I could barely feel any pain or anything akin as adrenaline and rage flooded my very body. However, I once again forgot that Furfur does typically tend to mean every word they say, and it fought with a fierceness I had never seen before. Eventually, it pinned me down to the ground, and I did not fight back up. I just wanted to catch my breath. I just wanted a moment to rest.
Part of me expected for it to try and kill me so that it could take my soul to the Second Nameless Soul, but instead, it stepped down off of me as it hissed out, “Sins, stop! We are done here! Any more violence is not necessary, we have won!”
The fighting stopped almost immediately, as the Spades all stepped back. Some of them began to make victorious yowls and cheers, and Furfur’s voice soon joined them. Furfur fled the area, and the remainder of the Spades followed suit.
I stayed down for just a moment, before standing back up. I hissed under my breath, “Furfur, you…” as I began to lick my wounds.
One thought entered my mind as I did so: This was war. The Spades knew this was war as well, I was sure. After all, if they did not think this was the start of a war… They would not have attacked us, right?
This was when the war began, and for as long as I was in this reincarnation, this war would continue.

Epilogue
“And then the rest of the story after that is history,” Tamiel says to you, before standing up and stretching. “Now do you understand? We are at war with the Spades because they are nothing but trouble! They cheat and start fights that ultimately benefit nobody but themselves, and they do not have the capacity to change. I have done absolutely nothing wrong! And the First Nameless Soul sending you down to me as my first Hunter that I did not specifically hire… I think that is their way of confirming that I am not in the wrong here. I am doing a good job, and you are my reward, Zadkiel. You are still young in this reincarnation, and I doubt you will understand fully until you have worked harder and become the strongest Hunter you possibly could be. But… Do you have any other questions?”
Your mind was overwhelmed with thoughts. Some were confused at this whole situation, but others got angry at Tamiel. He was not innocent, not even remotely so! It was not fair for him to claim he did nothing wrong when he started this in the first place! And it saw you as a reward? A reward from the First Nameless Soul, and not as a member that was worth listening to because of that, or maybe because you were young?
After being quiet for a long moment, you hissed out, “I still do not really get it. None of this automatically means that the Spades are evil! In fact… From what you described, Furfur sounds like it is a genuinely nice person, even if it cheats at card games. Do you really think the First Nameless Soul approves of senseless violence like this? Violence that you support only because Furfur never forgave you for severely injuring it, even by accident? Why do you think they yelled at you? Why did you think they so badly wanted to talk to you about your emotions? I have a feeling it is because they know this is so extremely unnecessary! If you would just set your anger and grudges aside for once in your life and go talk to it and the rest of the Spades, maybe all of these differences could be solved!”
“Again, I told you that you will not understand until you have become a more skilled and experienced Hunter, but… Once you do, you will understand that the Spades are nothing but trouble.”
“Is that really all you have to say to defend yourself?”
“I have more if you want.”
“Save your words and just tell me, please… Do you still love it?”
Tamiel fell silent for a long moment, before replying with a tiny, “What do you mean by that?”
“You know exactly what I mean by that,” you replied. “Do you still love it, Tamiel?”
Tamiel only stared down at you, an unreadable expression on his face. After what felt like millennia, they only shook his head. You had a feeling that head shake was not the true answer, and this feeling only intensified as he motioned with his paw and said, “You are dismissed, Zadkiel. Please get back to work, and do not discuss this situation with me again unless I initiate the conversation first or until you actually have a better understanding on how the Spades work and what they have done. Goodbye.”
Not wanting to argue any more about it, you reply with a quiet, “Goodbye,” and leave the area. You decide to go outside for a while to calm your thoughts, and process what was happening. A walk was the easiest and quickest way to calm anybody’s nerves, in your opinion.
The night was beautiful and serene. Though you could barely see the stars from the light that polluted the city of Las Vegas, you could simply feel the presence of the stars anyways. After a while, you decide to flop down on your back and look up at the sky. You whispered to it, “Why have you put me here, my Lord? I am no Hunter. I am not one who normally chooses violence. I am just… Not good enough for this job! And especially not with these two groups that do nothing but fight each other… I just do not seem to understand. What do you see in me that I do not? What part of me am I blind to?”
After a moment of thinking… You suddenly realize what your purpose was. You were not here to be a Hunter. The First Nameless Soul sent you here to hunt only one thing: the anger that divided these two groups and made the hunting more complicated than it needed to be. You were not a Hunter, you were a mediator.
And as you realized this, your mind eased at the thought. You knew that was your purpose. You were absolutely certain of it. Why else would the First Nameless Soul send someone they knew to be peaceful and kind down to do what is typically considered dirty work?
You would do whatever it took to return the Spades and Clubs to peace, no matter what.
You would not let the First Nameless Soul down.

[kennymcnenny]

Username: kennymcnenny
Cat Name: Scallop
Gender: She-cat
Rank: Cabin Cat (eventually Sailor)
Clan: Howling of the Seas
Age: 4 years
Prompt:
Scallop didn’t know quite what happened when she next woke up. One minute, she was staring out at the sea, watching, hoping, dreaming- maybe, just maybe, a ship would suddenly pop up on the horizon and take her away from this place. The next though? Being hoisted out of the sea by sharp claws and teeth digging into the scruff of her neck.

Scallop had no idea how she got there. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She knew exactly how she had ended up in the ocean and all that came before then, she knew about the ship that very nearly ran her over. And it was.. A long story. Scallop couldn’t help but dwell on it as she was heaved onto slippery wood, barely conscious. Everything was so fuzzy, it was so easy to get washed away in the warmth of her own memories.

She had been stuck on the same dumb piece of rock for her entire life, even though that was only two summers at this point. But it felt like forever! Yes, the white stone buildings and tropical fauna were beautiful, she had a lovely life with some nice humans and two other cats- Sturgeon and Cyclades. She was tired though. She was tired of the same thing, day after day, nothing to do but lay around and hope that her humans would leave an open window unsupervised so she could stick her head out and watch the waves crash upon the rocks below their balcony.

It had been a day like any other day, sleeping in the sun on the soft rug that her humans had bought on one of their trips, curled up in a little ball as Sturgeon and Cyclades chatted nearby, sharing tongues. However, the creaking of their front door opening made her raise her head, tail flicking in greeting as her human walked through it, leaning down to pet the other two cats. Scallop wasn’t bothered that they hadn’t pet her, genuinely, she preferred it honestly. She never understood how the other two liked it so much, it was so uncomfortable to feel their hairless paws on her head and back. It was unsettling. But she let the humans pet her anyway because they’d usually give her those delicious treats after, they tasted like what she thought fresh fish would taste like. She had never had any before, but she liked to pretend.

Scallop was pulled out of her thoughts as a familiar sound flooded her ears- they opened a window! She leapt to her paws, racing into the food room and onto the counter, putting her front paws onto the little ledge in front of the window and staring out. She was about to jump up there completely before her human grabbed her, chiding her in that weird language of theirs. Cyclades claimed that he understood it but she didn’t believe him, he was just one of those crazy elders that tried to prank the younger cats, it had been like that since she first came here. Scallop let herself be placed back on the ground, glaring up at the human for a moment.

“Come on! It’s not like I’d jump out! Dumb beast.” She grumbled, pinning her ears back as she spun on her paws and stomped back into the sunny room, she would just wait until they left the room, and hopefully, the window would still be open. Sturgeon looked up as she walked by him, hissing at her, to which she returned.

“Will you stop it with the window already? Just shut up and get used to being here, you’re never going to leave.” Sturgeon’s tail flicked as he spoke, glaring at Scallop.

“Says you. I can leave whenever I want to, I just haven’t yet! I’d do fine on my own.” She hissed again, glaring back at him.

“You’ve never even stepped outside of a house before! There’s no way you could survive one night out there. You’ve heard Cyclades’ stories- the cats out there are insane! They’ll kill you before the sun even begins to set... You know what? You should definitely try. Maybe we’d finally get some peace and quiet once you’re go-”

Scallop suddenly lunged for Sturgeon with a yowl, sending both of them rolling across the floor and past an unamused Cyclades. She was batting at his head with her front paw, keeping her claws sheathed. Sturgeon's old owners had declawed him and she wasn’t that cruel, she wasn’t going to actually fight a cat that didn’t have claws. But gods above, he was so annoying. He never knew when to shut his mouth. Cyclades suddenly grabbed onto her scruff and dragged her off of the older, but smaller cat.

“Enuf, y’two need t’a get along.” His words were muffled until he let go of her scruff, making her shake out her pelt with an annoyed huff at the elderly cat. He used to be a stray, and he was bigger than both Scallop and Sturgeon, and he could be intimidating if he wanted to. “We all live here and we’re all taken care of by the nice humans that took us in. Scallop, you need to get used to that. And Sturgeon, you need to relax and get used to her. She’s not going anywhere any time soon.”

Both she and Sturgeon turned away from the elderly cat, but neither of them made a move to attack each other again. Scallop turned towards the kitchen, the human had rushed out to see what was happening and scurried over to scoop Sturgeon into their arms once they realized what had happened. Whatever, she didn’t care about them. She really didn’t. But at least the human was out of the food room. She stopped when she saw the window was still open, glancing back at the human still coddling Sturgeon before sprinting for the open window again. This time, there wasn’t anything to stop her from launching herself onto the window ledge, poking her head out of the window before slowly stepping through it. The feeling of the cool breeze coming off the sea ruffling her fur was... freeing in a way. It made no sense, but it almost felt like.. Home, in a way. Like the ocean was calling for her to come back home. Scallop stepped out onto their small balcony, sitting on the railing and just letting the sound of the waves wash over her. It was almost like she was on the beach, soft sand beneath her paws and the waves barely lapping at the tip of her tail.

But opening her eyes to the ocean going on forever in front of her, the sudden drop off the cliff that their balcony overlooked... It was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t the life she wanted. There was so much more to the world, there were miles upon miles of ocean, and she wanted to see it all. She wanted to explore, she wanted to live a full life and have kits that understood her love of the sea, the way she was drawn to it. She wanted to grow old like Cyclades and have so many stories to tell about what she had seen and done. But she was just a housecat. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Sturgeon was right. She had no knowledge about the outside world past the doubtful stories Cyclades had told her, she had no clue how to survive outside of her cozy little home with her two humans and two other cats.

Scallop stayed there for a while, enjoying the sea breeze and the faint sounds of the city behind her. Until one of her humans suddenly yelled, and she turned to see them staring at her.

“Oh come on, I’m not going to jump off, I’m not crazy.” Scallop sighed, carefully walking back along the railing and onto the window ledge, sighing as her human immediately picked her up and started fussing over her. She let it happen for a few moments before squirming out of their arms and onto the counter, hurrying away from them as they moved to either pet her or pick her up again. She wasn’t in the mood to be coddled, she never was, really. She was just glad she had at least some time outside before they caught her and she had to go back in, any time she could watch the sea made any danger worth it.


It was the night the next time Scallop padded into the food room, stopping dead in her tracks as she heard the call of a gull, she couldn’t hear those when the window was closed. Snapping her gaze upwards revealed that the window was, in fact, still open. The humans must have left it open after their meal time by accident. Even during the summers, they never left them open, they knew she was too curious to stay inside once she saw them open.

Scallop leaped onto the counter once more, slowly pulling herself onto the window ledge and looking around, making sure the humans weren’t just hiding somewhere to catch her and find some reason to sell her to a new home. Though a sudden meow made her jump and almost fall off the ledge, scrambling to get her paws steady under her again.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Cyclades meowed from where he was lounging on one of the seats the humans had on the balcony. “I know you don’t like hearing it, but Sturgeon was right earlier. You don’t know what it’s like out there. I’ve seen how you look at the sea. It’s beautiful, but it’s cruel. Just like most parts of our world. You have a nice home with us here, even if Sturgeon can be mean sometimes. He’ll come around, I promise. Just.. stay. I don’t want to see another young cat I’ve grown fond of get lost to the sea, I’ve lost so many friends- family to that same want I can see in your eyes. There’s nothing out there but cold water and unforgiving waves.”

Scallop stayed silent for a long while, as did Cyclades. Long enough that the very beginnings of the sun were starting to peek over the horizon. She glanced back at the window she had come from, of the familiar life and cozy afternoons it promised, the easy meals and mornings spent listening to Cyclades’ stories, of wrestling with Sturgeon, playful or not, of the cool evenings she spent curled up next to her humans, despite the fact that she claimed to dislike them. That life was nice, it was so calm, so easy.

But it wasn’t hers.

The thought popped into her mind unbidden, and all at once, like a wave striking against the cliff below, she realized it was true. This life wasn’t hers, she wasn’t meant for this. She hoped another cat could fill in the gap that she left, another stray that wasn’t meant for the kind of life they were living either.

“I’m sorry, Cyclades. I’ll try to visit sometimes, yeah?” She meowed softly, leaning down to gently bump noses with him as he leaned to meet her.

“I understand. Stay smart and quick on your paws. Find a good couple of cats that you can trust to have your back. Keep yourself safe.” The old cat meowed, hoisting himself onto the ledge beside her and slipping back into the house. Scallop heard the quiet meow of Sturgeon, and Cyclades answering one. She couldn't tell what they were saying, but she supposed it was unimportant now. She was ready to put that life behind her. But she really would come and visit Cyclades if she could.

Scallop clambered onto the flat roof of her now former home, gasping as she looked out over the city of white and blue, the lights making the white buildings shine. So many people and cats and other animals milling about. It was so much all at once, and Scallops found herself falling in love. With the city, with the mystery and adventure it brought with it. She couldn’t wait to learn every single street like the city was a part of her.


It was later that same day when she encountered her first problem. A large tom hissing as he towered over her and the scraps of food she managed to find underneath a table after some humans had finished eating there. Her fur bristled as they stared at each other. The cat was only skin and bones, she could see his ribs moving beneath his fur every time he breathed. He was desperate for food. But so was she. She was so used to being fed whenever she wished, she was so hungry.

“I found it first.” She meowed, trying to keep the warble out of her voice, unsheathing her claws. She never had reason to use them before, but she had a feeling she was about to.

“I don't care. Don’t make this difficult. Give it to me. You’ve got plenty of meat on your bones, it won't hurt you to miss a meal.” He snarled, taking another step towards her. Scallop hissed louder, trying not to back down but her confidence wavered, taking a step back. She saw the satisfaction in the tom’s eyes and pinned her ears back.

“I said, I found it first.” She hissed, raising to her full height and stepping forwards so she was blocking the food with her body.

“Stupid house cat.” the tom snarled before he was lunging at her, tackling her into the hard stones. Her head hit the floor with a loud thunk, making her vision go blurry for a second before the sting of claws digging into her chest made her yowl. Scallop kicked out her back legs with all of her might, clawing at the tom’s stomach and making him leap back to avoid getting torn to shreds. She threw herself to her paws, stumbling slightly as her head swam, before leaping towards the tom again. She was aiming for his shoulder, and she slammed into him before he could react, sending the bigger cat stumbling back and knocking into the table. They both fell into a tangle of limbs and fur, and Scallop pulled away as soon as she got her bearings, lunging for the food, hoping to grab it and run.

She didn’t see the tom right on her tail until it was too late, turning right into his oncoming strike as she managed to get the scraps in her jaw. She screeched in pain as his claws raked over her face, yowling as she stumbled back, red clouding her vision as she shook her head. The tom stared at her in shock before grabbing the food she had dropped before taking off the other direction.

Scallop was desperately pawing at her face, trying to clear her vision, chest heaving as she got dizzier and dizzier. She stumbled and collapsed onto her side on the sun warmed stone, crying for help between her panting. Scallop didn’t get to see if help came before her vision went completely dark, losing consciousness.


The next time Scallop woke up, she had no clue where she was. She knew the smells of her home, and the familiarity of the stone beneath her. But as she opened her eyes, the spot she was in was completely unfamiliar. She was not where she had passed out, but at the very least she wasn’t in nearly as much pain as she had been. Everything ached just a little bit, and her head was throbbing. But it was manageable.

She gasped as paws suddenly stepped into her view, trying to get to her paws but unable to find her balance, staying crouched as she looked up at the strange cat. A pale orange tabby was staring down at her with a nervous, but not unfriendly smile.

“Stay still, kid. You’re safe. You’re lucky we found you when we did, that scratch on your face is nasty. But if you keep it clean, you’ll be fine. Any other injuries we didn’t find?” The tabby spoke, tilting their head as Scallop just stared at them. “Ah, sorry. I’m Koi. What’s your name?”

“Scallop. W-why does everything look like.. That?” Scallop meowed, the sound of her voice cracking making her realize just how dry her throat was. She was too tired to be weary of this cat. And she knew she desperately needed help.

“Whoever got you managed to hit your eye too. It’s damaged, you’re blind in that eye now. I’m sorry, Scallop. We’ve got another cat that’s half blind like you, they can help you get used to things. It’s up to you though. But for now, you want some water? I brought some fish too if you’re feeling up to it.” Koi meowed, shoving a shallow bowl under her muzzle, from wich Scallop gratefully drank.

“I’d love to meet them.” Scallop whispered, staying crouched as she tried to adjust to what Koi just said. It made sense, the sudden lack in vision, the difficulty to figure out where her paws were exactly.

Scallop was half finished with a decent sized fish when a new cat walked up to her, whiskers twitching in amusement as she looked up at them with a mouth full of fish.

“Like it? I caught that one myself.” The cat meowed, their voice was gruff, but kind. They were rather short, but stocky, covered in scars, including the one covering half it’s face and throat. Scallop clearing her throat as she caught herself staring, flicking her tail in apology as she realized that they caught her staring too.

“I, uh, sorry. This fish is delicious, thank you so much. I’ve never had fish before, but it’s just as good as I imagined.” Scallop meowed, pushing the fish towards the other cat with a small smile. “Share with me while we talk. Only if you’d like to, of course. Ah, um, I’m Scallop, by the way.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Scallop. And thank you.” The cat murmured, tucking their paws under them to take a small bite of the fish, carefully avoiding the bones. “I’m Basalt. You were a house cat recently, weren’t you?”

Scallop looked up in surprise, blinking at the other cat. “Yes, I was. I’m not sure how long I was asleep, but it was my first day out when I got, um, hurt.” She winced slightly, taking another bite of fish to quell her nerves.

“Ah, a rough way to start here. It’s been about a day since we found you, you went through a lot, so I don’t blame your body for taking more time than usual to sleep and recover. But your eye. I understand how difficult this change will be. But I’ll be here to help. You don’t have to stay with our group, but you’re welcome here if you do. And you’re welcome to stop by for help or if you have any questions too. It’s Koi, Starfish, Tide Pool, and I. Tide is a little standoffish, but she’ll get used to you.” Basalt meowed, finishing off the rest of the fish with a small hum, getting to his paws and shaking out his coat. “Come on, take a walk with me, Scallop.”

“I- I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Scallop shook her head, the frowned slightly as Basalt just smiled.

“I understand your fear, but I promise you it gets easier the more you do it. So lets start now, yes? Get you steady on your paws, then we can get you started on the more difficult things.” Basalt smiled down at her before stepping next to Scallop so she could lean on the other cat as she tried to find her balance again. Scallop slowly raised herself to her paws, having to lean on Basalt for a few moments before she found her balance, taking a step forwards. It was difficult, not being able to see part of the world she had been able to before, it threw her world and entire being off balance. But she was determined to figure it out, to keep living and surviving. She would have the life she dreamed no matter what it took.

Scallop spent the entire day with Basalt, walking the streets of the island for the better part of the morning. She gained confidence in her paws again, trusted them to take her where she wanted to go. It took a bit of coaxing for Basalt to get her to jump, but she did. And even though she almost went over the other side of the wall they were on, she was proud of herself. Seeing the pride in Basalt’s face as well made her confidence grow. They spent the rest of the day jumping, leaping from building to building, talking about everything and anything as they chased each other across the blue roofs. By the end of the day, Scallop was racing across the buildings with Basalt, seeing which one of them could reach a certain building first. She trusted her paws again, and she was learning more about the city she was in. How to travel fast and how to travel safe.


That night was the first night she went back to her old house. Basalt traveled with her, not wanting her to get lost when she tried to make her way back to where the group had made their home. Scallop sat on the railing of the balcony, staring through the window that she had left from two days ago, seeing the food room- kitchen, as she knew it was called now. It was lit up, and the two humans were swaying together, she had no clue why they did that, but they had done that when she lived there too, their odd, soft music playing in the background.

Scallop crouched down as she saw Sturgeon walk across the counter, sitting in front of the window and resting his tail across his paws. It took everything in Scallop not to run up to that ledge and get his attention, to beg him to let her back in. The feeling of Basalt laying their tail across her shoulders made her take a moment and breathe. She would be welcomed back home with open arms, she knew that. She had seen the pictures that her humans had put up. Missing posters, is what Basalt had called them. They were looking for her. But she couldn’t go back, she couldn’t break her own heart like that.

She gasped as she saw Cyclades walk up to the window, the elderly cat stretching before he looked out and saw the two of them crouched there. He meowed something that made Sturgeon turn, and his eyes widened as he saw the two of them as well. Cyclades looked so sad when he saw the scratch that had ruined her eye, as did Sturgeon, which surprised Scallop. Though as Cyclades saw Basalt next to her, an even deeper sadness filled his gaze. Scallop looked at the cat next to her and saw a longing there as well. They had some sort of history together, and whatever it was, it didn’t end well. But it wasn’t any of her business.

Cyclades nodded to Basalt, then gave Scallop a wave of his tail, which she returned, before both toms turned away. Basalt nudged her shoulder before getting to his paws.

“Let’s get going, it’s late.. I didn’t know you knew Cyclades.” Basalt meowed, clearing his throat afterwards, realizing just how obvious it was that he was emotional over seeing the other cat.

“I didn’t realize it was something I should tell other cats. I knew that Cyclades was a street cat like you. Like me. But not that you knew him.” Scallop didn’t want to pry, but she was extremely curious. She didn’t expect these two cats that took her under their wings to know one another. Especially not as closely as Basalt and Cyclades seemed to know each other.

“He was a part of our group for a very long time. He started it, honestly. Found me first, then the rest. Tide Pool had barely joined when he decided to leave. We, uh, we were mates. But we realized that we both wanted very different things in life. It was for the best.” Basalt murmured, walking slowly along the roof they were on. Scallop winced slightly, giving Basalt some space, but staying close enough to make sure Basalt knew where she was and so she could hear what Basalt was saying.

“I’m.. I’m sorry. Truly. Cyclades has mentioned that he had a cat that was very close to him, but he said that he lost them. But I could tell that he missed them, missed you, more than anything.” Scallop whispered, pressing her side against Basalt’s. “Thank you for helping me. I don’t know what would have happened or what I would have done if you guys didn’t find me.”

“No thanks needed. Cyclades created our group so we could help any cats that needed it. We weren’t going to leave you like that.” Basalt shrugged, letting their pelts brush together as they slowly made their way back to the rest of the group. They walked in silence, both of them had a lot of things on their mind.


Scallop stayed with that group for a few moons, occasionally going back to check on her old home and on Cyclades. Over that time, she got more and more confident in her abilities, in her survival skills, in her knowledge about humans and their language. But as the nights got warmer and warmer, more and more humans showed up. And eventually, the group decided to move on to another part of the island. But Scallop wanted to stay. She wanted to stay close to her old home. So she did, she stayed, saw the group off and made them promise to visit her the next time they were in the area.

She wasn’t alone for very long though. Scallop had been watching the ships docking near where she slept most of the time, in an alcove hidden enough that she was most unbothered unless a child saw her. She saw a group of three cats scurrying between the feet of humans as they walked off the boats, and Scallop watched them curiously. She sat on the roof of one of the buildings, tracking their movements as they hurried onto one of the beaches nearby. Scallop debated with herself for a moment before jumping down, taking stock of the area and any scents nearby before sprinting into the open, and down to the beach where she saw the cats disappear. Just because Basalt and the others were gone doesn’t mean she had to stop helping any cats that needed it. And maybe they were looking for a fourth cat to join their group.

It didn’t take long to find the newcomers, crouching behind a tall boulder lodged in the sand. She stopped a few yards short of them, waving her tail in greeting. “Hello! I’m Scallop. I saw you three come off the boat and wanted to welcome you to the area. Not everybody here is friendly, but I promise I’m one of the good ones. And I wanted to let you know that I’m here to help if you need anything.” She called out to them, smiling as they all looked at her. As she studied the three of them, it became very obvious that they were all siblings. They all looked different color wise, but they had the same face shape and eyes, the same lithe build and nervous demeanor. The darkest of the three stepped forwards, the other two crouching behind them.

“I’m Lion. This is Nettle, and Barrel.” The cat spoke up, pointing out the two others to Scallop. Lion was red, Barrel was black, and Nettle was a mix of both. This would be easy to keep track of.

“Nice to meet you, Lion. I can show you guys a safe place to stay if you’d like? Until you can get yourselves on your paws.” Scallops offered, taking a few steps back and pointing towards the city.

“We prefer it on the beach, where we can fish. But if we need to go into the city, we’ll come find you first.” Lion meowed, sitting down in front of his siblings.

“You know how to fish?” Scallop perked up, looking at them hopefully when Lion nodded. “I know I offered my help but would you be willing to show me how? I never got the chance to learn before my old group moved on. I can show you the safest places to stay, and make sure you’re left alone in return.” Scallop didn’t question it as Lion turned to look at his siblings, ducking his head to talk to them in hushed meows. It took a few minutes before Lion turned to look at her again.

“We can agree to that. But we like to move a lot. Being in one place makes us nervous.” Lion meowed, stepping towards Scallop.

“That’s fine by me! I’m just grateful you’ll teach me. It’s hard to scavenge for food with how many cats are in the city sometimes.” Scallop meowed, trotting over to the three. She reached out to gently touch noses with all of them. They were a little younger than here, and she had a feeling all of them had something to learn from one another.


The four of them stayed together for a long time, until the cold months had rolled in and there were less people in the city. The visitors had left. Scallop had learned how to fish. To keep her shadow off the water and hook her claws into fish, throwing them out of the water before killing them. How to wash the sand out of her teeth and claws. Over the months, she had gotten very good at it. She had been able to take care of Nettle when they got sick and Lion and Barrel had to stay with them to make sure they were okay. She had even managed to bring a small fish to Sturgeon and Cyclades. Cyclades was eager to try fish again, but Sturgeon was a little more hesitant, she had been glad to see them eating it through the window. But they were all on good terms, and seeing the two of them always made her smile. She had even brought the triplets to meet Cyclades as well, and they seemed to get along well. Though the three triplets were very obviously nervous about being in the city.

Scallop got them over that fear as well, showing them how to travel by roof, how to stick to the alcoves and shadows that lined the white stone. How to stay smart and stay light on their feet. Scallop knew that Lion and the others wouldn’t stick around for much longer, but she just hoped that she could make sure they would survive once they moved on. And hopefully teach their knowledge to any other cats that decided to strike a deal with them. But most importantly, Scallop was making allies. Friends. Cats she could rely on when she was in trouble or needed someone to stay with for a few nights to stay safe. She knew that she could find any of them, any of the cats that she helped, and she would be okay and taken care of.

Scallop, Lion, Nettle and Barrel formed an unlikely family over the moons, keeping each other alive and keeping one another safe. But once the summer months rolled around again- almost exactly a year after Scallop had first left her home, she found herself staring at the sea again. She was curled up on a warm stone as the waves crashed beneath her, listening and watching, feeling peaceful but.. She was still wanting. She still wanted more, she wanted that adventure that she first had when she left Cyclades and Sturgeon. Scallop thought that becoming a street cat had been enough, that the battle to survive as a stray was more than enough for her to handle. But now, now that she had developed her own territory, she was known to have fast paws and even sharper claws, her life was back to the same thing every single day. And she found herself miserable again. She was fond of the triplets, but they didn’t need her and she didn’t need them anymore. They could survive without one another.

But Scallop had no idea what to do with that information, what she was supposed to do with this feeling inside of her chest that she didn’t belong. That she was meant for so much more, that she was meant to be out there- out on the sea. She still dreamed of it every night, of standing on the bow of a large, dark ship, pointed towards the sky as it rolled over the waves below. The sea air, the sound of cats chatting and working behind her. She felt like she was home in those dreams, only to wake up with a start as one of the triplets moved and realize that she was still on the island.

She desperately wanted to make that dream come true, searching for a chance to have that life every chance she got.

Scallop was doing just that when Lion bounded up to her, chatting with some of the cats that lived on the docks and whether they had seen such a ship before. Though she turned away as Lion tapped her with a paw, thanking the cats and letting the smaller tom guide her to a quieter part of the area.

“The cruise ship is docking tonight. We’re going back to one of the other islands, we’d like to visit friends and family there. I apologize for not telling you until now, we just heard about the boat this morning.” Lion meowed, looking a little sheepish as he sat in front of Scallop. She just blinked for a moment before nodding slightly.

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned that you’d be leaving once the heat hit. I’ll miss you three. Stay safe, okay? And come back to visit me the next time you decide to travel for the cold months. Or whenever you decide to travel, really. Just don't be strangers.” Scallop grinned, gently head butting his shoulder before licking between his ears. “I’ll miss you three.”

“We’ll miss you too. Thank you for showing us how to navigate the city. Hopefully the group back home can expand past the beaches now that we can show them what you taught us.” Lion meowed, touching their noses together before getting too his paws, raising his tail in greeting as his siblings ran up to them. Scallop did the same, purring as Nettle and Barrel touched noses with her as well.

“I’ll see you guys later. You need to get everything in order and get on that boat as soon as it docks. I don’t want any of you left behind. As much as I’d love to keep you here forever.” Scallop meowed playfully, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice. They all said their goodbyes once again before the triplets were off, racing each other down the beach, kicking up sand in their wake. Scallop sat down and watched them go, stared at the place they disappeared for long after they were gone, until the sun started to set. Once the breeze ruffled her fur, colder than it had been earlier, she stood up. They were most likely already gone. And as much as Scallop wanted to say that didn’t bother her much, it did. She hadn’t been alone like this in moons. But she would manage. She always did.


It was a long walk to Cyclades’ house, and she took that time to think. Think about all that had happened in the past year, how much she had grown, both physically and otherwise. How much she had learned, and how much she still had to. She was terrified of the future, but she felt like that was fairly normal for a lot of cats. Especially ones that had just lost the companions that they had been with for moons.

As Scallop jumped off of the roof and onto the balcony railing, she froze. She could hear the human’s talking, she still had a hard time keeping up with how fast they talked, but she could pick out a few words. They were talking about a cat. But what was more important was the fact that the window was open. And there was Cyclades, lounging on the table.

“Funny seeing you here.” Scallop called down, grinning as Cyclades looked up at her in shock.

“Scallop! Good gods, get down here and talk to me. It’s been a while since you visited.” Cyclades purred as Scallop jumped onto the table next to him, crouching down in front of him. A look of sadness entered his eyes as he finally saw the scar on her face up close, reaching up a paw to gently press it over top of the shiny skin. She let him, trusting him not to hurt her, touching their noses together once he pulled his paw away.

“I kept trying to find nights where they left the window open, but I’m guessing they’ve been more careful with it since I left.” Scallop meowed, getting herself comfortable.

“You’re very right. They never left it open long enough for me to even get into the kitchen. But they’ve relaxed a bit lately. Sturgeon has finally calmed down a little and they’ve stopped believing he’ll run too.” Cyclades’ tone was fond as he spoke of the younger tom, looking back towards the window with a small laugh. Scallop looked too and stifled her own as she saw one of the humans swaying around the kitchen with Sturgeon cradled in their arms- dancing, is what the others called it.

“He looks happy. I’m glad he is, even if he’s a rude furball sometimes. How are you doing, though?”

“Ah, as well as I can be. I’m old, it's getting tougher on the joints to walk. But they take good care of me.” Cyclades shrugged, smiling at Scallop. “Oh don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”

“Hm, alright, old man. Just let me know if you need me to find anything for you, yeah? I’m more than willing to get you anything you need.” Scallop meowed, looking at Cyclades for a long moment before following his gaze to look up at the stars. They watched the night sky in silence for a few moments before Cyclades sighed.

“There is one thing. Have you seen Basalt lately?”

The question took her by surprise, and she looked at Cyclades. He seemed to regret the words as soon as they were out, but before he could say another thing, Scallop shook her head. “I haven’t. They said they’d come back this way around this time, and I’ve heard rumors of them traveling, but nothing concrete. I can find him for you and bring him as soon as he’s in town again.” She offered softly, laying her tail across Cyclades’ shoulders.

“That would be nice. I know that he must be struggling the same as me, we’re the same age. Our mothers were friends and we were born within a moon of each other, you know. But I just.. The humans have been talking about getting another cat. And I want him to join me here now that we’re both older. Neither of us are cut out for the lives we once led together anymore. Too old and worn down.” Cyclades shook his head slightly, looking up at Scallop hopefully. “Just tell him to come talk to me as soon as you find him. I miss him, more than I can put into words. And I still love him. I still hold the hope in my heart that he loves me too.”

Scallop stayed silent for a few moments before nodding slightly. “I know he does. I could see it when I first visited and he saw you. I’ll bring him to you, I promise, Cyclades. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“No need for such dramatics, little one. But thank you. It means more than you know.”



It was moons later when Koi finally returned, Basalt and Tide Pool in toe, nearly monsoon season again. They found her sleeping on her favorite rock pile next to one of the docks, and Scallop had nearly attacked them before realizing who they were. She was elated to see them again, all of them were. But after greeting each other came the unfortunate news that Starfish had passed during kitting, she had found a mate where they had moved to, and he and their kits were somewhere safe in the city. But before the group could leave to go back to their new members, Scallop asked to speak to Basalt alone, that she would walk him home once they had talked.

“It's nice to see you again, kid. You’ve gotten bigger.” Basalt purred, the pride filling his voice made Scallop grin.

“I have. And I finally learned to fish!” She laughed softly, gently bumping her head against his. “It’s nice to see you too. I’ve missed you, all of you.”

“We missed you too. But what is it that you wanted to talk to me about? It couldn’t be to just catch up, we could have done that on the walk back to our new camp.” Basalt tilted their head questioningly.

“Ah, yeah. Um. Cyclades he.. He wants to see you. He wants to talk to you. He asked me to bring you to him as soon as I found you. I will not force you to go, but it would mean a lot to the both of us if you did.” Scallop meowed quietly, letting Basalt have some time to think it over after she had spoken, resting her tail over her paws.

“Yeah, alright, lets go. I feel bad for not saying goodbye to him anyway.” Basalt meowed.

The run to Cyclades’ house was short this time, both of them staying in stride with each other, moving quickly and efficiently over the rooftops. She had missed running with Basalt- they were still so in tune with one another.

They found the window open once they jumped down onto the balcony, and Scallop quickly called out Cyclades’ name. A few seconds later the older tabby pulled himself onto the window ledge, his eyes immediately focusing on Basalt, and a sad smile crossing his face.

“Basalt. It’s good to see you. Scallop can you..?” Cyclades glanced at her and she quickly nodded, leaping off of the balcony and back onto the roof. She leaped a few buildings away, out of earshot unless they started yowling at one another, happy to give them some privacy to talk.

The sun had moved quite a bit when Basalt appeared again, leaping onto the roof and over to her, not saying anything as he brushed past her, flicking his tail at her to tell her to follow. Scallop did just that, hurrying after her friend as they made their way deeper into the city.

“Basalt..? Do you want to-” Scallop was cut off as Basalt shook his head, and Scallop nodded in response, following after the older cat as he showed her to the place the rest of the group was staying, both of them staying silent.


Scallop stayed with the group for a few days before heading back to where she made her home, having to check a few times to make sure no new cats had tried to encroach on her territory. But it was a surprise when she found Basalt waiting for her when she returned back to her favorite sleeping spot, touching her nose to his in greeting.

“Good to see you again already. Is there something wrong?” Scallop asked softly, brushing her pelt up against his.

“Not exactly. I'm sure Cyclades told you about his offer to me. And.. and I’m going to accept it. I’d like you to walk with me, make sure I don’t get lost.. and that don’t lose my courage.” Basalt meowed, shifting on his paws nervously. Scallop was on her paws in an instant, nodding and already trotting off in the direction of Cyclades house. Basalt let out a short laugh before hurrying to catch up with her.

“Come on, lets get you to your new home. They’ll be good to you.” Scallop meowed, letting Basalt fall into step with her as they raced through the city streets once more, this time laughing and trying to beat one another there. Scallop slowed to a stop as they neared the front door to the home, feeling Basalt fall into step beside her with a wince.

“Gods, Cyclades is right, I am getting too old for this. Should we go around back?” Basalt asked, and Scallop shook her head.

“No, you scratch at the front door until they open it. They’ll welcome you in immediately. Good luck, Basalt. I’ll come visit you guys as soon as I can.” Scallop meowed, head butting Basalt’s shoulder before they touched noses again, and Scallop hurried away, where the humans wouldn’t be able to see her once they opened the door. But she stayed to watch as the older cat scratched at the front door, smiling as the warmth of the house spilled onto the street, and she watched the humans immediately scoop Basalt up into their arms after he didn’t scratch them when they reached out. She saw Sturgeon and Cyclades peaking out from behind their legs, and nodded to the two of them. Cyclades nodded back, looking like he was about to cry as he looked up at Basalt. As the humans set him down, she watched the two greet each other as the door closed. They both looked so happy, so relieved to finally have figured out their lives in a way that they could be together again. Seeing them together gave her a newfound hope.


It was two moons later when she heard the news. A passing stray had asked if she used to be a housecat, and when she said yes, they mentioned that some humans had moved and two of the cats were yowling for someone to get her. Scallop didn’t even say anything else before she was sprinting down the road, not even bothering to stick to the roofs, dodging humans and cats alike as her paws pounded over the smooth stone of the walkways. She skidded to a halt, panting as she reached her old home, staring up at it’s dark windows before launching herself onto the room and onto the balcony behind it. Peering through the window, it was empty. Completely empty. There was nothing there, especially no cats.

The sudden lightning splitting the cloudy sky and crash of thunder following immediately after was the perfect metaphor for her heart, suddenly cracking open as she realized just how alone she truly was now. The two cats she knew she could go see whenever she was having a hard time. Especially Cyclades, who had talked her through many a night that she was struggling with her want to leave, with being drawn towards the sea. And Basalt, the cat that had given her everything and more back to her after she felt she lost everything along with half of her eyesight.

They were gone. And with them, she felt pieces of her heart crumbling to pieces. Scallop couldn’t find it in herself to move as rain started pouring down, barely hearing the shouts of humans and cats as they tried to find shelter amidst the sudden storm. Only when an even louder peal of thunder shook the air around her did she move, jumping in surprise and nearly losing her footing on the now slipper railing. She barely managed to cling on, the water in her fur weighing her down slightly.

When she felt the shaking in the ground and realized what was happening, she yowled, trying to throw herself onto the balcony properly, but unable to get the proper footing to do so. She was slipping, slipping further and further off the metal railing. And as the earthquake hit full force, rattling everything, including her, she felt her paws slip completely.

Then she was falling into the cold sea.



Scallop’s eyes opened and she gasped, unable to move as she started coughing up the water in her lungs, heaving for breath. A warm paw patted her side, encouraging her to get all of the sea water out of her body. That's right. Cats in a dark ship had pulled her out of the water. She had managed to find a piece of driftwood that fell from the city. She had no idea how long she had been out there, slipping in and out of consciousness. But she knew she wouldn’t have survived for much longer.

“That's it.. You’re alright now. We were scared that we lost you completely.” The cat meowed, the voice was soft and kind. It reminded her of Cyclades.

“Dawn? Oh Stars! Shoo, get away from my patient. Go see father and mother, tell them that she’s awake!” Another cat meowed, and she heard shuffling above her as she guessed Dawn left. She didn’t want to open her eye yet, didn’t want to move. She was so tired, and everything ached.

“Hey there. Can you open your eyes for me? I need to make sure there wasn’t any lasting damage to them, or to your head.” The new cat meowed, and Scallop groaned as she forced her eyes open, having to blink rapidly to clear them enough to see the face of the red and black cat in front of her.

“Nettle..?” She asked groggily, raising her head slightly before she groaned again and let it fall back onto the soft surface she was laying on.

“Not sure who that is. I’m Ember. One of the surgeons on board. We found you nearly dead. You honestly were for a few seconds after we pulled you on board. But The Empty Shore did some of their weird stuff and suddenly you were breathing again. So, lucky you!” Ember meowed, and Scallop just squinted at her. That was so much information to process in such a short amount of time.

“What.” She meowed eventually, and winced as Ember laughed, The sound was loud and as clear as a bell, it made the throbbing in her head intensify for a second.

“Sorry about that. We were on our way to pick up some old friends, and saw you. You must have taken quite the fall. But you’re safe now. And more than welcome aboard our little vessel. Though the others will be wary of you. Especially with that eye of yours.” Ember hummed, stepping away before pressing a few leaves underneath Scallops nose. “Eat these. It’ll help.”

Scallop was too exhausted to question it and just ate the leave, grimacing at the sour taste. This was the second time she had been in a situation like this, and it was just as exhausting and confusing as the first. It took a few more minutes before her head cleared up fully and she looked around. They were in a small room made of wood, the light was dim, but she could still see what was going on. A stocky tortie was sitting in front of her, their golden eyes shining slightly in the dark.

“I'm Scallop. Where are we?” She asked, very slowly sitting up, staying on the soft cloth that she had been laying on previously.

“Well, The Ocean’s Deceit, of course.” Ember meowed, getting to her paws to circle Scallop, checking to see if any injuries had been aggravated. Scallop stared, mouth open in shock. She couldn’t find the words. Not only was she on a ship, but the most feared and famous pirate ship of these waters. Before she could find the words, Ember was standing in front of her again, almost touching noses as she stared intently into her eyes. Well, her one working eye.

“Does it hurt?” Ember asked, and Scallop found herself shaking her head. She cleared her throat before she tried to speak again, head still reeling as she shuffled her paws nervously.

“It’s an old injury, I lost it a long time ago.” She meowed, voice still scratchy from what she guessed was days in the ocean, ingesting sea water.

“Not that one. I’m a doctor, I know it’s old and healed. Your other eye. Does it hurt?” Ember asked, and Scallop looked at her questioningly. Ember looked exasperated. “Alright, here goes again. You were dead when we pulled you out of the water. We were going to take your body back to land, see if we could find someone that knew you so they could give you a proper burial. But before we could, the seer, Empty Shore, came out of their den. They very rarely do that, you know? And they said you had some destiny you had yet to fulfill. Healed you or something. Nobody really understands what their powers are. But you’re alive, and as far as I can tell, you’re fine other than some scrapes and cuts. And all that salt water you ingested. I don't see any symptoms of salt poisoning yet, but I need to keep an eye on you for a few more days just to make sure, and to make sure you get enough water in you to balance out the salt intake.”

Scallop did her best to listen and understand. She was very confused about the whole ‘seer’ business, and Ember must have seen that in her face because she spoke up again as Scallop opened her mouth to speak too.

“The Empty Shore has powers. Nobody but them and any other seers understand it. The Captains say that they were ‘touched by the stars’. I’m not sure if that's true, or just some story my mother liked to tell us before going to bed. But, they healed you. And now I guess you’ve been touched by the stars to, if your eye is any indication of that. But they said that if you get any sorts of weird visions, go see them immediately.” Ember meowed, and pushed a small, round piece of glass towards Scallop. She stared at her reflection, at the change in her once normal blue eye. One had the milky white of blindness that she was used to, but the other.. The pupil was completely different now. In the shape of a star. It was obvious that something had happened when The empty Shore had supposedly brought her back, though that was extremely difficult to believe already, and she was determined to figure it out.

Two days after Scallop had woken up on the Ocean’s Deceit for the first time, she found herself waking again. This time, staring into a silver eye ringed with dark red. Scallop gasped but didn't move or back down, instead pulling back slightly so she could meet the cat’s gaze. Oh. She knew this cat. If only by the stories some cats would whisper about back on the island. Waves Upon the Ragged Rocks. The captain of the ship she was on. And the most feared pirate in almost every sea.

“Welcome aboard, Scallop. I'm here to warn you that we will not hesitate to throw you overboard if you show any signs of betraying us or causing any problems for me or my crew. My daughter speaks highly of you, and that is the only reason I’m not dumping you on the nearest deserted island we can find. Use this chance well, and you might be able to find a home with us.” The large tom meowed, staring her down with his one eye, and then he was walking away, the heavy thump of his wooden leg making her teeth rattle every time he took a step. Scallop was in stunned silence for a few moments after that, before Ember hurried back into the room and flashed her a wide smile. It was rare to see Ember smile like that, and she felt a warmth rush to the tips of her ears. Ember was beautiful.

“That was good! You’ve made the cut! You’re welcome here as long as you want to, but if you say no, he will dump you on the nearest sand bank and be done with you.” Ember warned, her voice not unkind as she sat next to Scallop. “But until I’ve made sure you’re fully recovered and we don’t have to worry about you collapsing on the deck, you can rest and relax in here. And hopefully you won't get too bored of me, yeah?”

Scallop laughed softly and shook her head, smiling up at Ember. “I have a feeling I won’t. But thank you, for everything. I promise I’ll repay you for all the help you’ve given me.”

“Oh don’t worry about that. Besides, seeing your smile is more than enough payment.” Ember purred, laying down next to Scallops, who felt her pelt burning again at the compliment. She playfully swatted Ember with her tail, but she was grinning as they looked at each other.



It was a few weeks later and they were traveling around the island she had once called home, and the other islands surrounding it, staying hidden in small coves during the day. It was odd seeing it from this angle, but it was just as beautiful as the first day she left her home. She had been instructed to watch from one of the sides, look for a signal of some sort. They were picking up some cats that had called them for help, old crew members that served with Captain before he was the captain apparently.

As they sailed, Scallop had grown accustomed to the ship she now found herself on. Captain still terrified her, but Breeze was as sweet as can be. And despite Scallop only being a cabin cat, as was custom for cats that joined the crew without being born into it first, the other sailors and officers didn’t treat her poorly. Well, they mostly left her alone unless they had a job for her. They were a more than a little wary of her, that much was obvious. Ember was the only one that would talk to her on a regular basis.

The young surgeon thought the ship’s hierarchy was a bit ridiculous, but knew that her father kept it like that to keep every cat on board safe. And apparently all the cats at their home too. She had managed to overhear that little tidbit when two sailors were talking about it. They had another place they lived, an island. But she wasn’t allowed to go their until she proved herself to them. And she respected that.

Scallop had expected the crew of the ship to be fearsome and terrifying, and it was once they got to doing their job- being pirates. But other times, it was friendly. Warm. They would tell each other stories by the light of the lanterns at night, would share tongues while they planned out who they were going to rob from next. It was.. Interesting. But as Scallop slowly got to know the ship and the chores, and the cats that came with it, she felt at home. Which wasn't something she had ever felt before. And the budding relationship between her and Ember only furthered that feeling. She knew that eventually, this ship, and maybe the village, would be her home. That maybe she’d have that family that she dreamed of so long ago.
And by the stars, she couldn’t wait for it.

[Vinson]

Username: Vinson
Cat Name: Moondance
Gender: male
Rank: scrapper
Clan: clan of the broken night
Age: 28 moons
Prompt: (google doc for easier reading/nicer formatting! content is the same both here and in the doc though)

“Turn around, bright eyes,”
Junipermask’s tongue rasped lovingly against Moonkit’s fur, grooming him gently but quickly. Her loud purrs seemed to drown out any complaints that Moonkit had, and she was gently murmuring as he mumbled his distaste. “Thank goodness your father was able to give us some warning before Oakstar called for you, Moonkit, you were filthy!” She said finally, laughing as he frowned. “Oh, don’t worry, my love, you look just fine, absolutely gorgeous. Perfect, even!” She purred, giving his head one more lick for good measure. Moonkit huffed. “I looked just fine before! And I was having fun teaching Briarkit and Beetlekit how to play moss ball,” he looked endearingly up at his mother. He didn’t understand why he had to look so well groomed and be on his best behavior all the time. Sure, he was the deputy’s son, but he just wanted to be a normal kit sometimes. But his tail quivered as he realized he wouldn’t be a kit for much longer. Oakstar’s gruff voice boomed out across the camp, and Moonkit wriggled free from Junipermask’s grip to bound over to the Highledge before Oakstar could even finish his call.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highledge for a clan meeting!”

Junipermask followed more slowly behind her son and sat close to him, watching with an amused look on her face as his whole body shook in excitement. He had been waiting for this day for so long! There were three other apprentices at the moment, littermates who had shared the nursery with him and his mother up until their own apprentice ceremony two moons ago. Moonkit waited impatiently for the rest of the clan to gather around their leader, and finally it seemed as if everyone was there. Creeksplash, Moonkit’s father, sat proudly at the base of the Highledge, and Moonkit felt a purr rose in his throat. Both his parents were so proud of him - and he couldn’t wait to prove what he was capable of as an apprentice!

There was a warm smile on Oakstar’s face as he gestured for Moonkit to come forward, to stand next to his father beneath the Highledge. He shivered with excitement as he tried his hardest not to trip over his paws. There was no way he was going to make a fool out of himself by clambering over himself and getting a face full of dirt, even if he was jittery enough to run laps around the camp right now.

“As you all know, this is one of my favorite duties to perform as a leader. Moonkit,” Oakstar said gently, “you are now six moons old and ready to become an apprentice. From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Moonpaw, and your mentor will be Lynxgrowl.”

Moonpaw, newly named and bursting with excitement, glanced over at the big brown tabby tom. Lynxgrowl was Oakstar’s son, a widely respected cat, even if he was a little bit scary sometimes. His face was scored with scars from battles past, and even with a huge smile he looked intimidating as ever.

“Lynxgrowl, my son, you are ready for your first apprentice. Your strength and tenacity have proved to be indispensable to your clan, and I hope the training you received from Crowstorm has prepared you, in turn, to train Moonpaw.”

Lynxgrowl offered no words of encouragement as he and Moonpaw touched noses, but the glimmer in his dark amber eyes was telling in of itself. While he might not be the most experienced mentor in the clan, Moonpaw knew of his experience in battle. When Creeksplash told him stories of old battles and wars won, Lynxgrowl was always featured as one of the main characters. He was large and intimidating, and not afraid to take a hit, as evidenced by the scars crisscrossing his face, his battered ears, his missing toes. He was nothing short of legendary - the blood of many Mistclan enemies had been spilled under his claws, by his fangs. Moonpaw was honored to be trained by him - he knew that he was going to be the best warrior ever! Well, maybe not quite as good as Lynxgrowl, he thought tentatively as the clan cheered his new name.

“Moonpaw! Moonpaw! Moonpaw!”

Creeksplash and Junipermask, the first two cats to call his new name, padded over to him and Lynxgrowl as Oakstar elegantly leaped down from his perch on the Highledge.

“Thank you for trusting me as a mentor, Oakstar,” Lynxgrowl bowed his head to his father, who bent forward and licked one of his ears. Lynx then turned to Moonpaw’s father. “And you, Creeksplash. I know you must have had a say in who you wanted to train your only son, and I’m honored that I was your choice. I promise I won’t let you down - you’ll never regret your choice,” he spoke roughly, almost like he had a growl buried deep down in his chest, like his name implied. Moonpaw quivered as his mentor and his father brushed their faces together. His bright blue eyes widened as Lynxgrowl turned his gaze on him. He barely reached his mentor’s belly, but Lynxgrowl looked at him with such care, such hope, a fire glowing in his amber eyes as the pair simply stared at one another for a few seconds. It felt like moons. “And you, Moonpaw,” he said gently, his rough and raspy voice slowly growing less intimidating, “I promise I won’t let you down either. I’m going to help you become the best warrior this clan has ever seen.”

Moonpaw knew that every word Lynxgrowl had just spoken was from the heart. He lifted his head up high and planted his paws firmly into the ground - he felt that if he didn’t steady himself, he would tremble and shake and fall right over from the sheer excitement and anticipation of it all. Of everything to come. His long tail twitched over the earth, and a gentle breeze blew through the camp, making his whiskers quiver. He felt so alive.

I dream of something wild…

The sun was setting under the trees and Moonpaw no longer felt as alive as he had that morning - he was exhausted, in fact. This time when his body shook it was from his tired muscles quivering underneath his pelt, not yet used to so much movement and exertion throughout the course of the day. Lynxgrowl had taken him on a tour of the whole territory, which was larger and even more beautiful than Moonpaw had imagined. Mistclan lived on an island, surrounded by picturesque turquoise waters, waves gently rippling at the shore. Moonpaw’s little paws had sunk ever so lightly into the wet sand, his eyes full of awe as he stared out into the ocean. “It’s so beautiful,” he had whispered as he turned his face away from the waves, the soft sea breeze still whispering into his ears. It was almost as if it was calling out to him, and he resisted the urge to step forward and submerge himself into the salty water. But Lynxgrowl’s eyes were narrowed and harsh.

“It may be beautiful,” he had said carefully, stepping forward to stand next to Moonpaw. “But it’s not all that peaceful. The waves could easily rip you from the shore and strand you at sea. And that landmass, over there,” he gestured roughly with his muzzle, curling his lip to bare a fang, “is where our enemies lie in wait.”

“The sea is shallow that way, easy to swim for someone experienced enough. We are the only cats on this island, but there are countless others that surround us. We are never truly alone, even if we are the only clan to reside on this piece of the earth. You must have wondered where our battles take place, where our wars are waged and won. Some have happened here, on these shores, but others we have traveled to. The islands are not all as friendly and forgiving as ours, and some clans find themselves without food and with too many bellies to feed. Then they think they can come here and take what doesn’t belong to them,” he snarled, unsheathing his claws. “Sometimes it is necessary to go to them and teach them a lesson. That Mistclan has been here for moons upon moons, and we will never give up what is rightfully ours.”

Moonpaw blanched. He had always imagined being a great warrior like Lynxgrowl, of participating in battles and hearing mentors tell legendary stories about him when he was lazing away in the elders' den. But he hadn’t quite imagined the actual bloodshed, or the reasons why he would need to fight beyond glory and legend. Their camp had always seemed so safe and protected, but standing out here on the shore, watching the waves lap onto the shore greedily, he could only imagine scores of enemy cats bursting out of the sea, snarling viciously. Could he really participate in a real battle? In something so gruesome?

Yes, he thought. He would have to - his mother and father had protected the clan before him, his mentor, so visibly scarred from battle, had as well. Soon it would be his turn. He turned his face away from Lynxgrowl’s, though. He would have to work his way up to the warrior’s courage. Right now he felt like running back to camp and hiding in his mother’s soft belly fur again, pretending he knew nothing of battle, of the enemies that surrounded them. Of the water that both protected them and provided endless access to enemy clans.

Moonpaw shook his head, trying to clear away all of his thoughts. Just a few hours ago he had been so excited and hopeful. In fact, those were really the only emotions he had felt so far in his life - he had had minor disappointments, or little squabbles and arguments with the older apprentices, or felt irritated by the younger litter of kits. But never before had he felt fear shake his heart. And, unfortunately, this would not be the last time.

Lynxgrowl seemed to sense the sudden change in his demeanor, because the much larger and older tom came and laid down next to Moonpaw. Their faces were almost level now, and Lynxgrowl nuzzled his big head into Moonpaw’s shoulder, which nearly knocked the young tom over. He let out a little nervous laugh, and Lynx purred.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Moonpaw. I’ll teach you how to take care of yourself and the clan. Together we’ll be invincible, just you wait. Our enemies will cower at the sight of us, two powerful warriors, standing strong on the shore…”

Moonpaw felt his thoughts drifting back to more pleasant ideas. Of him as big as Lynxgrowl, stocky and fearsome. There was no need to fear anything right now - Mistclan had gone undisturbed for some time now, after the last battle when Moonpaw was still a young kit. His father had come back with a new scar along his belly and an epic story to tell. The shore was peaceful now, the waves gentle once more. Lynxgrowl rose to his paws and gestured with his tail for Moonpaw to follow him, padding away from the sandy shore and back into the grassy forested areas further inland.

“Now, how about we practice our hunting crouch?”

There’s no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you

“Sunpaw, go gentle on him! He still hasn’t mastered this move yet,” Cricketleap called out. Sunpaw, golden and lithe, stood lashing like a snake in front of Moonpaw, apparently unaware of her mentor’s words. Moonpaw was proud to say he only shook a little bit, and then not at all when Lynxgrowl flashed him a knowing look, a quick smile. Moonpaw crouched low to the ground, staring up at Sunpaw. She was older than him, but he was nearly as large - Lynxgrowl wasn’t lying when he said that one day they would stand as equals. But he was still growing into his big paws, and he was gangly and unsure of himself as his body grew and his proportions changed.

“Begin!” Cricketleap called, swishing his long tail behind him. Sunpaw twitched, and Moonpaw took the first move - he dashed over to Sunpaw, eyes looking at one of her shoulders, paws darting to the other. He batted at her chest and shoulder, then leaped backwards to avoid her counter. She narrowed her eyes and sprang at him, but Moonpaw was ready - he lowered himself to the ground, snaked forward, then slammed his front paws into the ground and rocketed his shoulders up into Sunpaw’s belly. He heard and felt the wind being knocked out of her belly, and she collapsed to the side, panting. Moonpaw chirped victoriously, looking over to Lynxgrowl for approval. When he met his mentor’s eyes, there was nothing but pride.

“Excellent, Moonpaw! I think you’ve finally got it down now. Be a good teammate and help Sunpaw up now - you did help put her down there in the first place,” Lynxgrowl purred roughly, letting out a raspy little laugh. Moonpaw flicked his ears back, just a little bit embarrassed, then turned to help Sunpaw up. She was finally catching her breath, and although she did seem a bit miffed about the fact that he had just thrown her to the ground so easily, he couldn’t help but see a little bit of admiration in her eyes.

“That was pretty good,” she admitted, wobbling just a bit as she stood. “You timed it just right - I think all of my breath left my belly! I would have been a goner for sure in a real battle,” she said, speaking slowly. Moonpaw met her yellow eyes for just a moment before turning his gaze down to the ground, sweeping a paw along the dirt of the training ring.

“Well, I, uh..thank you, Sunpaw,” he finally managed to blurt out, feeling even more stupid and sheepish now. Why was he acting so moonstruck all of a sudden? He grimaced as he heard their mentors laughing quietly behind them, Lynxgrowl’s rough rasp and Cricketleap’s gentle lilt. He turned his head to glare at Lynx, who just laughed harder.

At least Sunpaw wasn’t laughing at him, he thought. That would just be terrible. He looked back up at her to find her smiling gently, a little blush on her cheeks. He pinned his ears back and swept his tail around his flank.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, feeling his own face heating up. His pelt felt itchy, and he wanted to get out of here as soon as he could.

Sunpaw just shrugged. “Oh, it’s alright,” she responded, scraping one of her paws into the dirt, a little cloud of dust rising from the ground.

“Alright, alright. How about we get out of here and go catch something tasty?” Cricketleap asked, and the two apprentices lit up. Moonpaw definitely enjoyed battle training - learning to use his body, to put his growing form and muscle to good use. But hunting was a bit of a respite. He loved coming back to camp with a big, juicy piece of prey clamped in his jaws, dragging his catch into the nursery or the elders’ den. The kits always swarmed him, asking him for stories about being an apprentice and wanting to know exactly what he had done and where he had been all day. The elders, on the other paw, were always happy to tell him a story. He would sit and listen quietly, intently, as they told stories about their own times as warriors. He especially enjoyed listening to Crowstorm’s stories about Lynxgrowl when he was an apprentice. Every bit of information he gleaned from his mentor’s mentor helped him gain perspective about Lynx. What he was like when he was young. The things he had to do, the determination he had to have, to become a warrior as great as him.

One thing Lynxgrowl had not done, Moonpaw realized with a start one night as he was falling asleep next to Sunpaw and her littermates Olivepaw and Sootpaw, was to take a mate. He racked his brain for any little moment between Lynxgrowl and another cat, but all he could find was professional politeness, or camaraderie, or appreciation and pride. There wasn’t a single time that Moonpaw could think of where Lynxgrowl had been flirty, or shy, or anything of that sort. Sunpaw turned to roll on her side, pressing her back against Moonpaw’s. Her gentle breathing helped to lull him to sleep, but his mind was still plagued by this new idea. If Lynxgrowl was such a great warrior, and if Moonpaw was to be like him…did that mean he wasn’t supposed to take a mate?

Surely not, he tried to reassure himself. Oakstar had once taken a mate in Lynxgrowl’s mother. And his own parents, who loved each other so dearly. He shook his head. If no cat was to take a mate then there would be no kits, and no kits meant no clan. He could still be a dedicated warrior and let his heart rest and love a little bit, couldn’t he?

Sootpaw started snoring, and Moonpaw huffed, closed his eyes, and willed his mind to stop with all these silly thoughts.

He woke up to Sunpaw prodding his back.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Lynxgrowl says he wants you on the dawn patrol and we were supposed to leave way before now,” she muttered, clearly still tired herself. Moonpaw groaned and rolled over, rising slowly to his paws and blinking blearily, but his mind was still foggy. Sunpaw sniffed and started to turn out of the apprentice’s den, but she stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. Gold met turquoise, Moonpaw’s heart started to beat just a little faster, and he found his paws willing him forward. Dawn patrol was never his favorite, but maybe - maybe with Sunpaw it would be okay. Sootpaw always moaned and groaned and wouldn’t stop complaining the entire time, and Olivepaw was always distracted, which meant it took them longer to patrol and longer to get back. Moonpaw had a feeling that Sunpaw wouldn’t do either of these things. Their pelts brushed as they walked out of their den together, squinting in the early morning sunlight, and Moonpaw once again felt a rush of anticipation and excitement. A small purr rose in his throat as Sunpaw turned her eyes on him once more, and even though he still blushed a little bit, he didn’t feel as embarrassed as he did after their training session together.

He supposed this was an improvement.

Their dawn patrol was uneventful, and they arrived back to camp just as a hunting party was returning with their jaws full of prey. Both apprentices licked their lips and looked hungrily up at their mentors - Lynxgrowl smiled, an expression that still looked formidable even if it was meant to convey happiness, and purred, jerking his head towards the three cats bringing in prey. “Go on ahead, I think you deserve it,” he murmured quietly, letting out a single gruff laugh. Moonpaw bounced on his feet and dashed over to the other cats, Sunpaw sharp on his heels. They were both finally awake - and with rumbling stomachs, no less!
Brightshine, Mallowmist, and Fernwhisker were happy to share. Bright and Mallow, Sunpaw’s parents, were especially thoughtful - Brightshine nudged a gull over to Moonpaw. They must have been paying attention to him earlier, because gull was his favorite. He gave them a big smile that they returned warmly, and Mallowmist gave his daughter a few licks along her forehead and ears. She purred and leaned into her father, then turned to Moonpaw.
“Come on, let’s go eat!” she said excitedly, glancing at the apprentices den. “Sootpaw and Olivepaw are still sleeping…I guess that means that we get this whole gull to ourselves.” It was huge. He didn’t know how the two of them alone could finish it, but Olivepaw and Sootpaw could always have the remains of whatever they couldn’t eat, it just wouldn’t be warm and fresh. It also gave Moonpaw and Sunpaw more time to spend together, quietly, happily.

Once upon a time there was light in my life

“I, Oakstar, leader of Mistclan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in their turn.”

Oakstar’s voice was still loud and booming, but it was filled with joy and passion. Mistclan would gain three new warriors today! And while it wasn’t Moonpaw’s turn just yet, he was still bursting with excitement, and happiness seemed to fuel a constant purr deep in his chest. Sunpaw and her siblings were becoming warriors today!

“Sootpaw, Olivepaw, and Sunpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your clan, even at the cost of your life?”

“We do,” the littermates answered together, eyes gleaming, tails twitching, paws standing strong.

“Then by the powers of Starclan, I give you your warrior names. Sootpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Sootslash. Starclan honors your bravery and your determination, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Mistclan.”

“Sootslash! Sootslash! Sootslash!” the gathered cats called, quieting down when Oakstar held his tail up high.

“Olivepaw, from this moment on you will be known as Olivebranch. Starclan honors your compassion and your strength, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Mistclan.”
Once again the clan cheered her new name - “Olivebranch! Olivebranch! Olivebranch!” But there was still one more cat that needed a new name, and Moonpaw was most excited to hear hers.

“Sunpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Sunpark. Starclan honors your courage and your loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Mistclan.”

“Sunspark! Sunspark! Sunspark!”

Moonpaw liked to think that he shouted her name the loudest.

After touching noses with Oakstar and then beaming proudly in front of their parents, the littermates dispersed into the crowd of cats gathered beneath the Highledge. Sunspark, after quickly thanking her mentor, made her way over to Moonpaw, who was nearly shaking with pride and excitement.

“Sunspark!” he purred, testing out her new name once more. It was beautiful, and it fit exactly who she was - she was a spark. She was his spark.

“Moonpaw!” she chirped back happily, nuzzling his face. They had both grown since they had first met, and while Sunspark was lithe and lean, Moonpaw was big and brawny, and he stood over her at a height that was almost imposing - but Moonpaw knew that Sunspark could still take him down easily. She was an excellent fighter, a superb hunter. The perfect warrior, just like Moonpaw wanted to be. And he wouldn’t have to wait long - he was just two moons younger than the litter that had been given their warrior names today.

“Just wait, Sunspark, I’m going to practice so much and go out on every dawn patrol and hunt for the elders every day, and I’ll be a warrior just as soon as you can say ‘mouse’!” he told her, and Sunspark laughed.

“Oh, Moonpaw, it’s not a race! I’ll still love you even if you are just a little apprentice still,” she purred, her laugh light in her throat. Her eyes twinkled with amusement, but deep down Moonpaw knew that she would take him seriously. He smiled and bumped his head into her shoulder, and slowly she stopped laughing and grew more serious.

“I can’t wait until we can sleep right next to each other again, in the warriors’ den. And we can go on patrol together, and go out hunting just by ourselves…” her voice was quiet, her words thoughtful and planned out.

“I can’t wait for that either,” Moonpaw responded, his heart swelling with love and pride.
Oakstar had named them warriors right before sundown, so the littermates had time to talk to their clanmates quickly, grab something from the prey pile to eat, and then say their goodnights. The three new warriors then headed out for their silent vigil. Moonpaw waved his tail at Sunspark, who happily flicked an ear at him before turning to pad to the camp entrance.

Moonpaw, while falling asleep in the quiet and empty apprentices’ den for the first time, wished he was with them.

He didn’t have to wait long - he was woken suddenly by Sootslash’s loud cry of “Intruders! Invasion!”

Sootslash screeched through the camp, running into the warriors den to get everyone up and awake. Moonpaw’s heart began to beat fast in his chest, and he felt his breathing grow quick and shallow. It was like he was reliving the first day of his apprenticeship again, alone on the beach with Lynxgrowl - enemies charging in from the shore, cats with vicious claws and fangs that glinted in the light of the moon. But then he steeled himself. There was no time to waste! These cats were attacking the heart of their island, the peaceful camp, in the middle of the night. It was lucky that Oakstar had named three new warriors last night, he thought as he shouldered his way out of the den, standing to watch the scene around him.

Lilycloud was herding Briarkit and Beetlekit back into the nursery, much to their protests that they wanted to fight. The elders had quickly made their way over to the nursery and were crouched around it, a fierce glint in their eyes. Moonpaw turned - he knew the kits would be safe. As soon as he saw a pelt he didn’t recognize, he leaped, bowling an enemy warrior over and slashing his claws into their thick ginger pelt. The cat hissed underneath him and squirmed, bucking to try and get Moonpaw off, but he was too bulky for the other cat to throw him off. Moonpaw yowled and began battering the ginger warrior’s white belly, sending fur flying, droplets of blood spattering the earth around them. Biting into the other cat’s shoulder, Moonpaw hurled them to the side, and they quickly fled back out the camp entrance.

All around him cats were locked in battle, and his clan seemed to be holding up despite the sneak attack. This was their camp after all - they all knew it by heart. Their enemies tripped over roots and lost their footing on rocks that Mistclan warriors didn’t even have to look down for. Now that Moonpaw knew what to do, he felt his thoughts slow down, and he calmed. He bunched up his haunches and bowled into another warrior that had been swiping at Olivebranch, taking a quick bite out of the tabby’s ear. The tom screeched and flung his paws out wildly, but between Moonpaw and Olivebranch he stood no chance. Moonpaw was relentless in his heavy blows while Olivebranch ducked and leaped, slashing at the tabby’s legs. Moonpaw gave him a nasty blow to the head that sent him staggering, after which Olivebranch snarled and bashed her head into his belly. The tom fell screeching, and, sure that he was thoroughly defeated, the two moved on to help their other clanmates out.

Moonpaw’s eyes widened as he saw Oakstar taking on two enemies at once. A large calico molly had teamed up with a lithe and wiry black tom, and together they had Mistclan’s leader cornered. But he was still fighting back, yowling at the two of them, landing blows even as his enemies’ claws tore at his pelt. Moonpaw stopped staring and immediately rocketed towards his leader, tucking his chin to his chest and smashing the little black cat heavily in the shoulder. The strength of the blow made Moonpaw stagger, but it effectively tossed his enemy across the ground and sent him skidding away from Oakstar - the tom looked up at him startled and dazed while Oakstar and the calico continued to fight. Moonpaw growled and shook his head out, watching as the tom stood up warily, on wobbly legs.

While his opponent was still dazed, Moonpaw took his chance. He darted up to the tom and swiped viciously down his side, the same move that Sunspark had helped him perfect in the training ring many moons ago. Only now he used his long claws, raking them down his enemy’s pelt and digging into his flesh. The tom, still shaky, squealed and half heartedly made a counter attack, curling into himself and swinging a paw out wide. Moonpaw felt a rumble in his chest as he grabbed his opponent’s outstretched leg in his jaws and swung his head, once again throwing the tom to the ground. He looked pitiful and terrified as Moonpaw planted his paws on the tom’s chest and dug his claws in. In one big movement he drew his claws through his enemy’s pelt, blood coating his claws, a ferocious grimace on his face. The tom shrieked and yelped, twisting out of Moonpaw’s massive grip, and fled.

Moonpaw shook himself out, then turned back to Oakstar. The calico molly was still holding her own against his leader, and he pinned his ears, hissed, and dove into battle once more. The molly staggered from his strike, distracting her just enough for Oakstar to land two stunning blows to her head, boxing her ears. But still she refused to flee. Her claws caught Moonpaw’s shoulder, and he gasped as she drew blood, fur falling to the ground. The wound stung, but Moonpaw prevailed - there was no way he was letting this intruder get the best of him! He slunk back, remembering the training that Lynxgrowl had given him, and her gaze narrowed as a smirk rose to her face. While she was distracted by Moonpaw again, Oakstar dove for her neck, jaws clamping down around her throat. The calico warrior screeched and shook violently, and Moonpaw saw his opportunity. He leaped gracefully onto her back, dug his front claws in, and battered her spine with his big hind paws. She rolled to the ground but still Moonpaw clung to her as Oakstar let go, heaving. He found his own jaws around the molly’s neck now, and he bit down deep. Finally she seemed to realize that this was not a fight she could win, and she dragged herself off the ground, away from Moonpaw’s fangs and claws, and turned to slink away through the camp entrance. Moonpaw got to his paws, chest rattling, trying hard to catch his breath so he could move on to the next enemy. But it was at that moment he saw Sunspark and Sootslash diving out of the camp, yowling as loud as they could at the last of their fleeing enemies.

“Well done, Moonpaw,” Oakstar’s thundering voice was suddenly quiet as he padded up to Moonpaw. He swished his tail from side to side and let out a single happy chirp.

“Th-thank you, Oakstar,” he stammered, still recovering from the fight. But he had done it! He had protected his clanmates, his leader, his camp, and together they had all driven the intruders away. Lynxgrowl found his way over to him, sniffing at Moonpaw’s wounds, licking his ears.

“Thank the Stars you’re alright! I know I’ve trained you well, but this was your first battle - I didn’t want anything to happen to you,” the dark warrior said softly, and Moonpaw nuzzled his face into his mentor’s shoulder. It was hard to believe that he could once stand up under Lynx’s belly - even now, as a young cat, he stood only just below him. Moonpaw looked back up at Lynxgrowl with grateful eyes, noticing that he had gained yet another scar on the bridge of his nose, another chunk taken out of one of his ears. But they were alright. They were all alright, and that was the only thing that mattered.

“You’ve trained him well, my son,” Oakstar grumbled appreciatively, sitting down for just a moment. His long tail flared out behind him, and in the moonlight it was like his pelt was a glowing ember. Lynxgrowl dipped his head, grateful for the praise from his father. “Did you know that he took out an enemy warrior all by himself? He saw me fighting two and took it upon himself to come help me. I’m not sure where I’d be right now if Moonpaw hadn’t shown such initiative and bravery.”

Moonpaw felt like his jaw was going to fall right off his face, his mouth was open so wide in shock. Such high praise from Oakstar! And Moonpaw had only done what he knew was the right thing to do. He hadn’t thought about the outcome, only that one of his clanmates was in need and that he had to help.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highledge for a clan meeting!” Oakstar called out, watching as his warriors shook loose fur from their pelts, licked at their battle wounds. Miraculously it seemed as if no cat was seriously injured. Moonpaw gathered himself and began to lick at the claw marks that the calico had left on his shoulder. He wasn’t quite sure what Oakstar wanted to say, other than to check in on everyone and debrief after the battle, send any wounded cats to go see their medicine cat, Snowflower. Already the silver and white molly was flitting through the crowd, checking wounds, applying cobwebs to any that were still bleeding. Out of the corner of his eye Moonpaw saw Sootslash and Sunspark return, their chests heaving from their long run, but both looked relatively uninjured. There was a new notch in one of her ears, but with a quick glance Moonpaw could see no other injuries. He was relieved - he hadn’t seen her at all during the battle, and his mind could only worry until he had seen her again.

“This battle was unexpected, to say the least - these cats have the audacity to strike us in the heart of our territory, in the middle of the night. This is treacherous behavior, but the honor and skill of Mistclan prevailed over them tonight. We stand here victorious, in glory! Our three new warriors were the ones to sound the alarm, and I thank them and the rest of the clan for their swift actions tonight. Your speed most likely saved lives,” Oakstar nodded, watching his clan shift and murmur beneath him. Moonpaw purred. His first battle, his first victory!

“There is one cat here tonight who has more than earned a celebration. Moonpaw, please step forward.”

Moonpaw felt as if the world was frozen around him. The whole clan’s eyes turned on him, questioning, and he found that he could do nothing but stand still, in shock. It was Creeksplash who finally nudged him forward from the crowd.

“Go on, then, Moonpaw,” he whispered, giving his son a friendly lick on the ear. Moonpaw gulped and moved towards the Highledge. Oakstar had just praised him, but he was sure that would have been the end of it. Surely he was still too young? But Oakstar beamed down at him, green eyes alight with pride.

“Lynxgrowl, I have seen with my own eyes that Moonpaw has learned the skills of a warrior. But does he understand the importance of the warrior code as well? Will this apprentice, still young, be worthy of the title of a warrior?”

Lynxgrowl stepped forward, a massive purr of pride rumbling deep down in his chest as he set his eyes on Moonpaw.

Moonpaw felt as if he might faint.

“Yes, Oakstar. Moonpaw knows the importance of upholding the warrior code. Tonight, as you say, you saw him fight with honor and courage to help his fellow clanmates. While he may be young, Moonpaw is strong, both in body and in spirit. My work with him is complete - he is ready for his warrior name,” Lynxgrowl proudly announced, practically glowing. Moonpaw staggered as he moved a step closer to the Highledge.

“Thank you, both of you,” his voice seemed quiet in comparison to his leader and his mentor, but he couldn’t stand by and silently accept their praise. “I only did what I was taught to tonight - to help a clanmate in need, to honor even an enemy’s life, to protect my clan over myself. I didn’t - I didn’t set out tonight hoping to become a warrior.” Oakstar waved his tail, cutting him off.

“Moonpaw, you have proved yourself to have a heart as strong as any warrior tonight on the battlefield. You have shown me that you will honor and uphold the warrior code, that you will protect and defend your clan even at the cost of your life.”

“By the powers of Starclan, I give you your warrior name. Moonpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Moondance. StarClan honors your courage, your honor, and your skill in battle, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Mistclan tonight.”

“Moondance! Moondance! Moondance!”

He could hardly believe what his brain was telling him as his parents padded up to his side, congratulating him, his mother nuzzling her head into his shoulder. Sunspark was gently purring somewhere nearby.

“What did you say earlier? That you’d be a warrior before I could say ‘mouse’?” She asked, laughing gently. “Well, I never got the chance to say mouse, so I suppose you were right, Moondance.”

They slept right next to each other in the warriors’ den the next day, after their vigils, back to back, just as Sunspark had promised. He fell asleep, once again, to the gentle lull of her breathing, her chest rising and falling. Moondance could feel her heart beating.
He felt alive.
He felt content.

Every now and then I get a little bit terrified

Just as Sunspark had wanted, the two of them, both warriors, were able to go out and hunt by themselves sometimes. Creeksplash always seemed to be assigning them to the same patrols, a knowing gleam in his eye as he sent a little smile his son’s way. Everything seemed to be falling into line - their lives were perfect.

The recent battle, however, was not forgotten. Oakstar decided to post two guards every night, and patrols were on a constant lookout for any signs of the intruders returning. There was extra battle practice, and the kits were even taught some basic moves, all in the name of safety. They would be apprenticed soon, Moondance thought, and he wondered quietly to himself who their mentors would be. Briarkit and Beetlekit were both energetic, but Beetlekit seemed to be a bit more tentative than Briarkit. Silently, Moondance found himself hoping that Oakstar would consider him as a mentor.


Lilycloud did like him after all - she was good friends with his own mother, when they had been in the nursery together, and Moondance had taught the kits all the best games he knew while also being gentle with them. He flicked his tail. Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance.

Snowflower was silent as she walked over to Moondance, and he jumped slightly in surprise. The medicine cat was always so quiet! But she was good natured and kind, and Moondance appreciated her concern for all of her clanmates.

“How is that shoulder wound doing, Moon?” she asked, taking a look at it. Thanks to her poultices and a little bit of rest on his part it was healing well - he would have a scar, but he was sort of proud in a way. It was his first battle wound, earned valiantly defending his clan leader! He purred, dipping his head to Snowflower.

“Very well, Snow, all thanks to you,” he offered, watching as her face lit up and she smiled from the praise. He didn’t think her patients offered her kind words very often - while she was appreciated by the whole clan, she was usually giving them herbs that tasted bad, or telling them they couldn’t go out on patrol for a quarter moon, or making sure that a cat didn’t rejoin a battle after a nasty wound. It was the least he could do to be nice to her now, he thought, just in case he was spitting curses at her later for holding him out of a battle. Maybe his kind words now would make up for whatever he might say later, under pressure, in the heat of a fight.

He only winced a little bit as she poked and prodded at his shoulder, making him stretch the muscles out, bend his leg this way or that.

“Yes,” she murmured, “it’s all coming along quite nicely. You’ve been staying away from climbing?” Snowflower asked, giving him a look that meant you’d better tell me the truth or there will be consequences. Moondance smiled sheepishly.

“Well, yes, for the most part. I, uhm, you see. There was this squirrel yesterday, and - “

“I know, I know. Just had to get it, didn’t you?” she sighed. “Just don’t do it too often, alright? Within the next quarter moon you should be right as rain and you can do all the squirrel chasing and tree climbing you want.”

Moondance nodded emphatically. He knew what he was supposed to do and what he wasn’t supposed to do, but sometimes he just couldn’t help it. Sunspark had really wanted that squirrel. He wasn’t going to just stand there and watch it disappear up a tree! And it had been worth it. They had shared it that night, purring happily while their bodies were pressed close together.

Many peaceful moons passed in Mistclan, moons in which the previous battle was dwelled upon but not too closely. They had won, after all, and sent their enemies running, earning their peace and quiet. Moondance and Sunspark were still happily together, and Beetlekit and Briarkit had become Beetlepaw and Briarpaw - apprenticed to Creeksplash and Junipermask, Moondance’s own parents, to his slight disappointment. He had wanted to be a mentor so much, but he knew that he was too young still, not experienced enough. Creeksplash had plenty of experience to help Beetlepaw come out of his shell, while Junipermask was so motherly and gentle that he was sure Briarkit would continue to blossom under her mentorship. Brightshine had moved back into the nursery, expecting another litter with Mallownmist, and Sunspark and her littermates were thrilled.

“Just think of all the fun we can have with them!” Olivebranch exclaimed. “We can teach them how to play games, and how to sneak out of the nursery, and the best prey to try first…” Sunspark laughed.

“I’m just excited to have more kits in the clan. And I wonder if we’ll be old enough to mentor them when they become apprentices!” she purred, looking over to Moondance. “That is, if we’re not too busy with our own kits,” she said quietly, sneaking a glance over at Moondance.

His face immediately turned red.

“Wh- our own kits?” he asked, turquoise eyes wide and unbelieving.

“Well, you must have known we were going to have kits of our own some day, Moon!” she exclaimed, a big happy smile on her golden face. Moondance thought she looked perfect.

He went out and caught the biggest gull he could find that evening, dragging it back to share with her. He would not let his mate and unborn kits go hungry or unprovided for.

That night, sleeping together in the warriors’ den like always, Moondance’s dreams were filled with visions of happy kits, of Sunspark doting on them in the nursery. He dreamed of teaching his kits a hunting crouch, of watching them bring back their first piece of prey. Protecting them during battle.

He couldn’t wait to be a father.

Sunspark continued her duties as normal, despite Moondance’s quiet protests that she might want to move into the nursery alongside her mother. Protests that she quickly snuffed out.
“I’m not old or fragile, Moon. There’s no need for me to laze around all day when I can keep up with my duties.”

And Moondance loved her dearly, so he let her do what she wanted. Creeksplash continued to assign them to patrols together, but not as often as he used to. He was roused one morning when Sunspark was assigned to the dawn patrol but he wasn’t - she was going with Creeksplash, Beetlepaw, and Lynxgrowl, so he had no qualms about her safety, but still he worried about her. Worried for her. She gave him a soft smile that he sleepily returned, and he heard the quiet lilt of her laugh as she left the den.

“I’ll be back soon, sleepyhead.” He listened to her pawsteps slowly grow quieter and quieter until he couldn’t hear them anymore, and dozed off again, thoughts full of kits and love and warmth.

“Help! Help! Our patrol was attacked!”
Moondance immediately leapt to his paws, clambering out of his nest and over other sleeping warriors. It was Beetlepaw, looking ragged and winded, clumps of fur missing from his pelt. Moondance’s eyes went wide, and his heart seemed to stop.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He didn’t stand around any longer to wait for Oakstar to put together a patrol or a plan. He ran as quick as he could out of camp, hastily following Beetlepaw’s scent trail, finding himself skidding to a halt on the sand.

It was his worst nightmare.

An enemy clan was making their way out of the waves and onto the shore, their eyes glinting in the early dawn light. Sunspark and Lynxgrowl were pressed back to back, fending off several attackers at once, and Moondance felt like the world was spinning, until -

The calico molly, the same one that had attacked Oakstar all those moons ago and given him his first battle scar, stood victoriously over Creeksplash with a bloodied maw. His body was crumpled on the ground, and Moondance saw red flash in his eyes before he screeched and yowled and lept into her, knocking her over clumsily, claws flashing as they ripped across her face.

“That was my father you just killed, you piece of crowfood!” he spat, lunging for her throat. His jaws snapped down and he yanked his head from side to side, thrashing the howling molly around until she went quiet and still in his maw. He dropped her body, growling, and turned his eyes on the rest of the cats crawling out of the water, shaking their pelts. Some backed away a step, and Moondream hissed, steeling himself for another battle.

His clanmates arrived behind him and he launched himself into battle once more, straight into the knot of invaders attacking his mate and former mentor. Moondance hardly saw anything anymore - his eyes were wet with tears, his claws blood red as he slashed and blocked, as he bit down and yanked cats away, spitting insults, not even caring when enemy claws landed blows on his own body. He felt a deep scratch to his face and his vision grew blurry, blood dripping down his cheek. But he just kept fighting and fighting and fighting until there was no cat left to fight.

Moondance stood gasping, his pelt stained with blood. He didn’t know if it belonged to him or his attackers, and at this point he didn’t care.

There were two bodies on the shore, lying bloodied and motionless. One golden, one dark tabby - the bodies of those he loved most dearly, faces still snarling, claws still out, eyes wide with determination and a glint of fear.

The earth around him began to shake. The air was hot and tense and oppressive as Moondance collapsed with a scream of grief.

Once upon a time I was falling in love but now I’m only falling apart

When Moondance found himself in the world of the living once more, he was lying painfully on his side in the medicine cat’s den. His vision was still blurry, and everything on the right seemed dark. That eye still stung from when an attacker had managed to get a swift blow in on his face, and his whole body felt battered and bruised. He barely remembered the battle - only that he had killed the cat that had murdered his father. His father.

Moondance gasped in a painful breath. His father, dead on the beach, blood slowly being washed away by the lapping waves. Throwing himself into a horde of enemy cats, not caring what happened to him, trying to save -

Trying to save Lynxgrowl and Sunspark.

A sob racked his whole body.

In one battle he had lost his father, his mentor, his mate. His beautiful, wonderful mate who was carrying his kits. His eyes teared up again, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a little ball and never wake up again. Gone were his dreams of being a father. Gone was his own father, who had been so excited when Moondance had told him Sunspark was expecting. And Lynxgrowl - Lynx had taught him everything he knew. Although the tom carried a rough exterior, and his massive figure was imposing, Moondance knew that deep down he had held a soft and caring heart. And now they were gone. They were all gone.

Someone was gently grooming him, purring and raspy, swiping their tongue over his ears. His mother. It felt like he was a kit again, small and weak and pathetic, held tightly in his mother’s paws. Snowflower slipped him a leaf full of poppy seeds that he hastily licked up, knowing that it would not only ease the pain but bring him to sleep. And that was the only thing he wanted right now.

If he was asleep, there was no way for him to feel the pain and the grief of everything that had just been lost.

Snowflower woke him with a shake later that day.

“It’s time for the vigil,” she murmured, sympathy written all over her face. He hated her look of pity, but there was nothing Moondance could do about it. He supposed he deserved it, in a way.

When he emerged from the medicine cat’s den, his clanmates seemed torn on what to do with his presence. Some shied away from him, others stepped forward, wavering, eyes downcast. It was almost as if they were afraid of him.

He supposed he deserved that, too. He knew he had killed at least one cat, the calico molly, his father’s murderer. After that, everything had just…faded away into the roar and the rush of battle. And now he was just numb. The red shade in his vision and the bloodlust had died away, leaving a shell of the cat he used to be.

“How could this have happened?” gasped Oakstar, gazing from Moondance to the three bodies laid out in the clearing.

All that Moondance heard was “how could you have let this happen?”

He winced, trying to curl his broad shoulders further into his body, to hide himself away. He was a monster and a murderer. He had dishonored the warrior code by killing an enemy when his own life was not in danger. He had killed for revenge and given into his bloodlust, and now all he had left was his mother, who seemed locked away in her own grief as well.

He cast his gaze towards the bodies in the clearing. At Creeksplash, at Lynxgrowl, at Sunspark. He had loved all of them so dearly, he had loved them with all his heart, and now it felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He felt his legs wobble and shake, and he fell to the ground, choking back another sob.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered through tears, daring to look up at Oakstar. There was no cruelty in his leader’s eyes, though. Instead he saw only pity.

Moondance felt like he would have to get used to that look very quickly. It was all that he ever saw in his clanmates’ eyes now. They whispered and murmured and turned their eyes away from him whenever he looked over and found them staring.

He didn’t care. He had to bury his father and his mentor and his mate and kits all in one day after watching their brutal murders, unable to save any of them.

He was able to hold back his tears until after they were laid in their graves and his clanmates began to scoop pawfuls of dirt over their bodies.

He would never see them again.

It was a long while before Moondance emerged from Snowflower’s den after the vigil. While his body had mostly healed, his mind was still clouded with grief, his heart shattered, his spirit broken.

He was blind in his right eye now, though he didn’t think that would matter very much now. If he just laid here in Snow’s den, never getting up, refusing to eat, it wouldn’t be long before he was in Starclan himself. When he closed his eyes to sleep, he was plagued by images of the sea and the shore, of blood and battle and enemy cats. Of their bodies on the sand, then in the camp, and in their graves. He thought about getting up and digging his own grave once, but his legs just wouldn’t cooperate. He stayed there, flopped pathetically on the floor of the medicine den, wallowing in everything. Junipermask came to visit sometimes, but the two of them never had much to talk about, and she always seemed awkward when she came to lay down next to him, to groom him, since he refused to do that himself.

That was alright, though. He was the reason her mate was dead. She had an excuse to feel awkward around him now.

“You know, Oakstar’s named a new deputy,” she said haltingly one day. He knew that Beetlepaw had already been reassigned to Mallowmist, and he suspected that Oakstar had chosen him for the deputy position.

“Oh?” Moondance asked, pretending he was interested. He was not. His father should still be alive, still be deputy. If only he had gotten there faster.

“Yes. It’s - it’s Mallowmist,” she answered, halting her grooming. It was almost as if she was afraid that he would lash out at her.

“I see,” Moondance huffed, dropping his head to the ground in defeat. At least Oakstar had picked a good cat. Sunspark’s father would do a good job.

Junipermask sighed and rose to her paws.

“You really should get out of this stuffy den soon, Moon. It’s no good to sit here and let your emotions take over. Grief is not the only thing you have left in life - Brightshine’s kits will be born soon. Wouldn’t you like to see them?”

Moondance didn’t respond. No, in fact, he would not like to see them, he thought. He would like to see Sunspark in the nursery, her belly round, a smile on her face and a shimmer in her eyes as he brought her prey every day, found her the best sunning spot in camp, walked out into the woods with her, talking about what they would name their kits.

Junipermask turned with a sigh and padded out of the den.

I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark

Oakstar came to visit Moondance after his mother had left one day, and Moondance rose shakily to his paws to dip his head in greeting. Oakstar looked concerned more than anything else, and Moon was still waiting to see even the smallest glimmer of hate and betrayal in his eyes for what had happened. It was his fault his son and his former deputy had died. But there was nothing but compassion in his calm green gaze. Moondance slid back down into his nest, but Oakstar shook his head.

“No, Moondance. I think it’s time you saw the sunlight again,” Oakstar murmured roughly, coming up to stand by Moondance’s side. He sighed, standing again, legs shaky and weak from disuse. He wobbled a few steps to the entrance of the den, squinting at the light that shone through. “Come on out. Everyone would like to see you.”

Moondance highly doubted that, but he didn’t want to disobey his leader. It was the least he could do after his betrayal of the code, after all. He was surprised that Oakstar hadn’t banished him completely. He shook the thought from his head, stepping out into the camp clearing for the first time in a moon. Heads turned, cats stopped what they were doing, and he winced as he saw Sootslash and Olivebranch staring at him with a strange look of pity and remorse in their eyes. He turned his gaze away. He was tired of being pitied.

Oakstar stood strong by his side, helping to support him, guiding him towards the nursery. They were slipping in through the entrance when Moondance finally realized where he was.

“Wait, Oakstar, please, I can’t go in here,” he rasped, but it was too late. He was already being pushed in, and his remaining eye clouded over when he saw Brightshine. She looked up at him, surprised, then began to tear up as well.

“Oh, Moondance, I’m so sorry,” she cried, gesturing for him to come lay by her. But Moondance stood stock still.

“I - what. What are you sorry for? It’s my fault that Sunspark died,” he choked out, watching as her teary eyes slowly glowed with surprise.

“Moon, it’s not your fault that she died! You took on an entire enemy clan to try and save her. It’s not your fault, honey, oh sweet dear, come lay down…”

Moondance collapsed onto the ground at her feet and let himself be consumed by his grief. It shook him, it took his breath away, it tore a hole in his chest where his heart should be.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, curling himself into the smallest shape he could find. Brightshine’s head came to gently rest on his shoulders.

“It’s alright, Moon,” she said quietly, and the two of them laid there for quite a while, until Moondance’s legs began to cramp and he ran out of tears to cry.

“She should be in here right now,” he said gently, moving so he could look into Bright’s eyes. Her gaze clouded again.

“She should be. But you’re not the reason she’s not here right now. That other clan’s raiding party is the reason she’s not here, Moon,” she murmured, sniffling.

“I don’t want anyone else to die like she did. Like Creeksplash and Lynxgrowl did.” All of a sudden Moondance felt like a wave had washed over him, clearing his mind. They were all right. It was that other clan’s fault that they had all died, and Moondance just wasn’t quick enough.

He would have to be quicker next time. All of their enemies’ blood would have to be spilled under his tooth and claw for him to be satisfied, though.

“I have to protect my clan again.”


“No.”

“What do you mean, no? I need to serve and protect my clan again, Oakstar. Please,” he pleaded, grief clear in his eyes, even the clouded and blind one.

“Moondance, you’ve been blinded. There’s no way you can be a warrior again,” Oakstar growled, putting his paws down firmly on the Highledge. “You can train as a medicine cat or retire to the elders’ den. Those are your choices now.”
Moondance snarled. He had finally gotten out of the medicine den, there was no way he was going back in there now. And an elder? No.

“I refuse. I know what I am capable of and what I need to do. And if I can’t be a warrior here, in Mistclan, I’ll go wander as a rogue. I’ll find another clan that will let me be a warrior.” He spat and turned his back on Oakstar, pinning his ears back as he let his rage flow through him where grief had once been. The gathered cats gasped, but Moondance could hardly hear them anymore.

If Mistclan would not have him as a warrior, then he would go and be a warrior elsewhere. They were not deserving of his loyalty, his courage, his skill.

He knew that somewhere out there, however far away, there was a clan who would take him in. Who wouldn’t care that he only had one good eye. They would see his strength and his potential. And maybe then he could avenge the deaths of everyone he had lost.

[SonOfStarGod]

Username: SonOfStarGod
Cat Name: Darkness Rising
Gender: male
Rank: elder
Clan: Those of the Grotto
Age: 10 years
Prompt:

[ArtMajor]

Username: ArtMajor
Cat Name: Silentstep
Gender: Male
Rank: Advisor
Clan: Smokeclan
Age: 5y 4m
Prompt:

This is the story of a cat named Silentstep. He is a gentle tom, loving and kind. He is blind in his right eye, and after being blessed by starclan his left eye’s pupil is formed in the shape of a star, a permanent reminder of how the ancestors of the islandic Shoreclan have blessed his life. Although he was born with a normal pupil, it should be noted.

Appearance wise, Silentstep is a bit larger than normal cats, a trait gained from his mother, who hailed from a line of purebred Main Coones. Although he did not earn any of her extra fluff, or anything really, except for the bright shining teal of his eyes, he did earn her height. His pelt, a rosetted seal charcoal, was earned from his father. His father was quite different from his mother, for while she could trace her lineage back several generations thanks to her old owners being breeders, keeping meticulous records, Silentstep’s father could trace his lineage from one leader to another. Following the trace of Starclan’s blessing all the way to the first cats of Shoreclan.

Silentstep has no living family. His two siblings died when they were newborn, his father lost his final life to old age, and his mother was killed, by the claws of his father himself. He once had a half-brother, but it was by Shorestar’s own paw that Silentstep became half-blinded. And after your brother brutally attacks you well…

It becomes quite hard to claim a family bond after that.

But all of this, and more will be revealed with our story. It is not a long story no, but neither is this a short tale. Instead, let us simply take this story and learn everything that is needed, to truly understand the heart of Silentstep, which will take exactly as long as is needed to tell, no more, and no less.

The story of Silentstep begins with a forgotten memory. The memory of two cats, who had fallen in love. The tom's name was Tidestar, and the she-cats was Tinkle. He was a fierce warrior, proud leader of Shoreclan, while she was a simple kittypet, visiting with her twolegs.

The she-cat became enraptured with the island clan’s leader, and as the days ticked away, she knew a hard choice was coming upon her. She could leave with her twolegs,saying goodbye to her short-term lover, with her island adventures becoming a simple story, or she could run away from them. "Get lost", and stay with her lover forever. It was a difficult choice, but it was one that had the potential to affect her life forever. Did she return to a life of comfort, or stay for what she thought was true love?

Well, despite her ever-racing mind, Tinkle ended up choosing to remain. On the eve of her twolegs supposed return to the mainland, Tinkle ran away from her owners, losing them in the cave system on the north side of the island. And when they finally gave up, leaving for the boat and saying goodbye to their prized cat, Tinkle ran, delightedly, to her lover's usual meeting place. Although he wasn't there, it was easy to follow his scent, across the island and near his camp. But what she saw when she did discover him, horrified her.

For she was not Tidestar's only lover. Tinkle caught the flirtatious tom entwined with a female from his own clan, and a rage filled her heart. Tinkle left silently, but she waited for the perfect chance.

It was while she waited, that new life began to burn in her belly. And that was when she realized that her revenge needed to be slow, a gradual buildup that no cat would ever see coming.

And so, Tinkle buried her rage deep in her heart, and focused her attention on getting into the clan. For the next two moons she practiced hunting, learned how to fight, she learned the poisons of the forest, testing their properties on the wild rogues who had refused allegiance to Shoreclan, and when the time came, and her kit was nearly born, she made her way back to the border of Shoreclan.

On her way, Tinkle purposely roughed herself up, rolling about in the mud and forcing herself through brambles. Although her pelt suffered for it, she knew it was all for the best. She would be able to clean herself later, assuming her plan worked.

But then, of course it would. Tinkle was far too clever for it not to. When had such a precious, purebred kittypet learned how to scheme? Learned how to cause pain and torture? Those details are not important to the story right now, but perhaps later…one might be inclined to learn what had happened to her competitors. Any cat who dared say they were better than she?

Well Tinkle had never been a truly innocent kittypet. But she had mastered the art of acting. The art of pretending to be one's friend. Until that “friend” turned up dead in an alley somewhere, their family and owners grieving, and Tinkle right there beside him.

But we’ve strayed, no no, we must focus, and although these details are important, in the end, we must stay on track my friend.

When Tinkle arrived at the location of hers and Tidestars meetings, she threw herself onto the ground, and began to wail in false terror. After two moons of letting her emotions be buried, it was easy to call upon the tears, to let them flow in her supposed fear and distress.

It did not take long for a patrol to arrive to investigate, and when they arrived, they agreed to take the poor lost pregnant kittypet back to their clan to take care of her until she could go back home to her twolegs. Of course they would watch over the defenseless mother-to-be until her kits were born and they could safely travel. Well, they would have to approve it with their leader, of course, but what sort of cruel feline would turn down a queen in need, and oh wasn’t Tidestar just so kindhearted?

And so, Shoreclan allowed the demoness in disguise to enter the inner sanctuary of their home. Already, her mind was spinning, guiding her paws to the next stage in her plans.

It did not take long to go to the camp, and that was when the real troubles began. Tidestar recognized her instantly. Even though it had been several moons since he had seen her, she knew that he recognized her. But of course the "perfect, noble, kind-hearted" leader of the island clan had to pretend that he had never seen this heavily pregnant she-cat in his life. And oh, what a terrible fate had befallen her, and so close to her kitting? What an even worse tragedy!

And so, Tinkle was officially “welcomed” into the clan, just until her kits were born and her twolegs could be located of course. Or until the kits were born, and old enough to travel, and a twoleg ship arrived to take her back to the mainland.

Tinkle set up in the nursery, surrounded by clan queens, one of whom was the very she-cat she'd caught her lover cheating on her with. But those feelings of rage were soothed by the promise of a revenge soon. And she pretended to be friendly with the silver speckled cat, secretly biding her time.

Not three suns later, Tinkle went into kitting. And although three kits emerged from her, only one lived past the dawn. She named her single kit, Silentkit, in honor of the secret that had been burning silently in her mind for moons, but claiming to any who asked that she wanted a memory of the “quiet little island clan” when she returned home, and that when he was older she would allow him to choose a more kittypet sounding name for himself.

But once he was born well...questions about his father began to be raised.

After all, when the two stillborn kits looked exactly like their mother, while the living one was essentially a tiny clone of the clan’s leader…

Well it was suspicious to say the least, but the clan believed their leader to be far too noble to ever have a paw in Tinkle’s conception. And so it was ignored, put up as one heck of a coincidence. And with Tinkle not saying a word about it well, it was just one of those funny twists of fate.

But those were not the clan’s only troubles, and in order to…effectively tell this story, we must take a moment to view these events from Tinkle’s own eyes. So let us go in, and see what truly happened that night, for those of Shoreclan may never know the truth themselves…

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Tinkle’s cream tail wrapped tightly around her son. Her blue eyes watched over his sleeping form intently, and she could not bear to move. Ever since his two siblings had died, their bodies having been sent adrift by the clan in their strange customs, she had become hyper focused on her son.

Yewblossom called it nervous mothering. Featherflight blamed it on Tinkle’s “weak kittypet mind”. Tinkle rolled her eyes with a muted scoff, ears twitching as she glanced at the silver tabby queen, sleeping near the back of the nursery.

Featherflight was slowly rising on Tinkle’s kill list to be honest. With her stupid snarky comments towards the soft-looking new mother, constantly attempting to degrade her and her son for their lack of island-blood. Personally, Tinkle just thought that Featherflight was mad that her mate, another kittypet (because of course, the clan couldn’t keep their blood from inside the clan only, far too many problems would come of that), hadn’t decided to stay on the island, instead returning with his twolegs several weeks ago.

But Featherflight and her ridiculous bigotry would have to wait. Because Tinkle simply was not ready to start a pile of bodies yet. Too many things would point towards her if cats started dropping now. She had integrated herself as the “poor defenseless mother” of course, but she was far too new to the clan for them to fully trust her yet. Not to mention her son’s resemblance to Tidestar was starting to fray her plans.

But she could not hate the kit for it, or for his looks, because she saw too much of herself in the little bundle of fur. Tinkle smiled down at her son again, letting thoughts of the idiot known as Featherflight fade from her mind. She had much bigger plans to focus on, and she had finally finished with the first step of her clan. She had gotten herself integrated.

And so it was time to move on to step two. Now that her son was just over a moon old, the clan was starting to whisper about Tinkle moving on. But since no twoleg ships had arrived since before she had smuggled her way into the heart of the clan, there was simply no other place for her to go. And so, the whispers, new as they were, had already started to die away at the same time as they tried to rise.

Tinkle gave her son a gentle lick on the top of his head, and slowly unwound herself from around him. He shivered, and her heart ached, wondering if maybe…just maybe she could forget her plans. Raise her son up herself alone in the woods, and forget about these dangerous ideals of hers. Things would be fine, and she could still enact her revenge on Tidestar. Sure it would take longer, but it was still possible, she knew it was.

But then Tinkle's gaze traveled towards Silverheart and her three children, Shellkit, Crabkit, and Coralkit. The “true” children of Tidestar, and one of them the future leader of the clan, and all of her rage returned. The fury of being snubbed. Of being promised love, and being refused by the tom being unable to think past his own ego.

Tinkle sneered, and stepped properly out of her nest. Fluffing out the thick collar of fur around her neck, the kittypet padded out of the nursery and towards the hollow log where Honeyseed and Nightpaw’s den lay.

The medicine cats had left for the night, to sleep in the field of Moonpetals, something about the full moon bringing true power to the flowers. Whatever it was, they were out of their den, and at this hour of night, no cat was awake.

Stopping to roll heavily near the poppy seeds, Tinkle made sure to balance a few of the small seeds on the base of her tail, curling the fluff up to hide them, and to make sure that they didn't roll away. She would need to make sure to have her alibi of course. And since Honeyseed had foolishly granted Tinkle access to the seeds to help ease her "uncomfortable nights", there would be no problem with her scent being found in the medicine den.

And then she shifted her paws to the small garden growing beside the herb stores. A single yellow flower grew near the edge, and all she needed was a single leaf. Using her claws to gently break off a small pale green leaf near the base of the plant, easily overlooked amongst the larger leaves surrounding the piece.Tinkle hooked the leaf carefully in her claws, making sure it wouldn't shake loose as she walked, and headed back to the nursery once she was positive it would remain steady.

Dropping the poppy seeds beside her nest, Tinkle took the leaf, and shredded it into small pieces, letting her rage take control for a moment as she destroyed the leaf into tiny pieces. She knew how deeply Silverheart slept normally, and she also knew that the poppy seeds she had snuck into the queen’s mouse earlier would have taken effect, ensuring that the foolish female wouldn't be waking anytime soon. Tinkle eased the female’s maw open, and began to carefully place bits of leaf within, wedging her claws between Silverheart's teeth so that the mouth wouldn't close before she finished.

Tinkle placed one of the last pieces of leaf into Silverheart’s mouth and removed her claws, nudging the feline's jaw closed. Tinkle then gently rubbed on the she-cat’s throat until she swallowed each of the leaf bits, even re-opening Silverheart's maw to make sure no evidence of her poisoning remained. Turning to the sleeping kits at the doomed queen's side, Tinkle placed the last remaining pieces of leaf within the mouths of Crabkit and Coralkit. Those two had taken after their mother, but Shellkit…with some extra white splashes that had come from Silverheart, was similar enough to Silentkit to be his twin. And that was exactly what Tinkle needed. He would do perfectly for her plans to use the tom to completely destroy Shoreclan from the inside out.

Her deed finished, Tinkle padded back to her nest, she ate the poppy seeds still tucked into her fur, curled around her son once more, and fell into a deep sleep, not waking until several cats began shouting for Honeyseed the next morning.

=-=-=-=-=-
And although she had done little to hide her scent, there was not a single cat that blamed Tinkle for what happened. For in the morning, by all appearances, Silverheart, Crabkit, and Coralkit had all simply passed in the night. Honeyseed had been stumped, by all appearances the three had been perfectly healthy, and simply…died without reason.

And although plenty of theories were raised, rogues momentarily blamed, it was innocent kittypet Tinkle who voiced the question no one else dared to ask. “Your ancestors are very powerful, could they have done this?” She couldn't have known any better how dangerous the answer to her question must be.

And yet, with no other alternatives, the clan was forced to accept her pondering as truth. Tidestar grieved the loss of his "beloved", and two kits, one of whom had been the firstborn and named heir, but it was agreed by the entire clan that Starclan must have found Silverheart, Crabkit, and Coralkit guilty of something. Maybe it was something that had not happened yet, but the ancestors were praised for protecting Shoreclan of such evil souls. Their wisdom was hailed, and the clan celebrated the three's death with a feast of fish and seaweed.

Tidestar of course, was publicly horrified that he could have mated with such an evil being, how could he have not seen the darkness that surely lay hidden in Silverheart's eyes.

As for what to do with little Shellkit, well it was simple, as Honeyseed pointed out. Since Yewblossom and Featherflight had their paws full with their own litters, and Tinkle *had* just lost two kittens as well…it was only logical that she take care of little Shellkit, since she still had extra milk, and oh weren’t Shellkit and Silentkit just ever so similar? Why, they could have been littermates, had they not had different mothers.

Which once again brought up all the right questions that Tinkle wanted asked. And if she started to finally answer those questions with whispered rumors that she just…had no idea who the father was, that he had visited her in the dead of night well…

It did not take long for mistrust to be sowed in the hearts of Shoreclan towards their leader, no matter how deeply buried it was under miles of loyalty longer than all the beaches of Shoreclan's island twice over.

But that wasn't a problem. It was just what Tinkle needed. No, the next problem for Tinkle, was to take that mistrust even further. But to do that, she had to make her place in the clan much more…permanent.

And so, as the two kits grew older, brothers in all connections but blood, sweet innocent Tinkle began asking “Oh, but what if no twolegs return to the island by the time Shellkit starts his training, surely it would not be fair to Silentkit to leave him out?” They were only a few days apart, surely it would be alright for him to wait a few extra days to become an apprentice.

And the clan agreed that yes, it would not be fair. Poor Shellkit lost all but his father in one horrible twist of fate, it would be cruel to force him to leave his pseudo-brother behind, especially as Tidestar had been distant in his horrified grief, and Shellkit and Silentkit truly thought themselves siblings.

And who was any cat to deny such precious kittens an innocent lie. Tidestar would surely quietly take Shellkit privately away some night, and explain the truth, but for now, the clan would let them believe their harmless fantasies.

What harm could come of that?

Why don't we take another look into clan life, and see just what happened when Tidestar revealed the secret of Shellkit's parentage to him, shall we?

=-=-=-=-=-=-

Tinkle purred as her two sons stood side by side in the sunlight, pelts gleaming from the amount of time she'd spent grooming them. Of course, Shellkit was not properly hers, but after the last few moons of raising the little troublemaker, well…how could she not call him hers? He was as much her son as if she had borne him alongside of little Silentkit.

Tinkle’s smile lowered as her gaze tilted up, beyond her sons and up to their secretly shared father, looking down on the camp from his place astride the White Rock. With Shellkit and Silentkit thinking themselves literal siblings, Tidestar had distanced himself from the family. To the clan, he claimed it was because he found it hard meeting Shellkit’s eyes, which looked so much like his mothers, without thinking of the great evil Starclan had “blessed them by removing”.

But Tinkle knew the truth. Tidestar simple did not want Silentkit to get to thinking he was the kittypet’s son’s father. Of course, this led to Shellkit not realizing his father was the leader of the clan, thinking it was simply some other kittypet from Tinkle’s home. And since the little tom was due to be the next leader of the clan, by some ancient hierarchy laws, their little ruse would not be able to stand forever. But small lies now were all Tinkle needed to utterly destroy Tidestar later. But if Tinkle was right (and rarely was she wrong, excepting of course, matters of the heart) well, Tidestar was due to make his move any moment now.

“Our ancestors who are ever wise, protecting us in our sleeps” Tidestar spoke, interrupting Tinkle’s thoughts. “I ask that you bless Silentpaw, son of Tinkle, and guide me to who his mentor should be.”

The clan was silent for several tense heartbeats, and then a bit of wind ruffled through the camp, floating a single flower to land at the paws of a jet black female. “Hollynose, Starclan has spoken and you shall mentor Silentpaw.”

“Praise be to Starclan '' the clan dutifully responded, as Hollynose stepped forward to brush her nose against Silentpaw’s forehead. Tinkle smiled happily. Hollynose was a fine warrior, a good friend of Tinkle, and one of the ones most willing to listen to the kittypet’s innocent gossip.

Yes, she would do perfectly for Silentpaw’s mentor.

“Our ancestors who are ever wise,” Tidestar spoke again, his tail lifting as the sun set behind him. Dramatic bat, probably had planned everything this way. “You know our ways, and you have truly blessed us for protecting us in our sleep from those who would do us wrong. But just so as you protect us from evil, you also leave those among us who will one day do great things.”

And here it was. Tinkle knew that Tidestar was too proud, too arrogant to let any of the cats Tinkle had twined around her tail raise his heir. Now that she had taught the boys to love each other as brothers, he would begin poisoning them as enemies. Starting with…

“I, Tidestar, son of Reefstar, do claim my right to mentor Shellpaw, son of Silverheart, descendant of Shorestar through his fathers line, through my line. If there is any contest to this, any cat who would do better than I, speak now, O great honorable ancestors, or let it be known that I shall mentor my son.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Shellpaw and Silentpaw slowly turned to look at each other. Muzzles so similar they could have been twins staring as differently colored eyes tried to find the lies in each other's gaze.

Tinkle couldn't prevent a wince, even though she'd known this was coming, Tidestar couldn't have chosen a worse way to announce it. Oh it worked wonderfully for her plans, but watching Tidestar in his day to day activities well...

Just how on earth could she have fallen for this absolute bully of a cat? Had she been so blinded by emotion that she'd truly fallen for his silky fur and smooth smiles and pretty words? Oh if Tinkle could only go back and kill Tidestar when she had the chance, meeting privately with him every night, things would have been so much easier.

As the winds remained silent and nothing was said by the cats of Shoreclan, a cruel grin formed over Tidestar’s muzzle, and he leapt from the White Rock, touching his nose roughly to Shellpaw’s forehead.

And yet, even as she gazed at her adopted son with sympathy for the fate she knew awaited him, Tinkle continued to smile, because things were playing exactly as she knew they would.

–=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

And so the two toms began their training. Hollynose was kind to her young ward, teaching him honor and duty, while also teaching him how to protect himself and others. Tinkle was carefully behind her, teaching her son strategy and cunning, subtly of course. It was a delicate art, but one easily taught with all the right nudges.

With no kits to nurse, Tinkle had been…encouraged by Tidestar to leave for the forest to wait out the next twoleg arrival. Sure it had been almost three seasons since any had been seen, but still, surely a kittypet would find it easier outside the clan than in it, and with summer moving forward, then surely the twolegs would be back soon, it was rare to have a season without any twolegs in it. Especially the closer to leaf-fall that the world drifted towards.

Which meant that Tinkle needed a new excuse to stay in the clan. Which was where Turtlestep came in. The tomborn was Tidestar’s younger sibling, but their heart was totally different from their brother’s cruel sneers.

It was…easy, almost, to fake love with Turtlestep. The feline was soft and gentle, in all the ways Tidestar had pretended to be. The only difference was that their kindness was genuine. There was even a small part of Tinkle that wondered what might happen if she gave up on her plans in order to run away with Turtlestep, or what might have happened if it had been Turtlestep who she met that one fateful night, instead of their cruel hearted brother.

But while those fantasies were wonderful to think on, that was still all they were. A fantasy. A pretty little dream for her to think about in the lulls of her righteous anger. But still, Turtlestep was a kind lover, and despite the circumstances, Tinkle was still happy to have met them.

And now, with a new litter of kits on the way, and those belonging to Tidestar’s sib of all cats, well, he could not turn Tinkle away now. Not now, and not ever. Not without one heck of an excuse anyways. She was a permanent part of the clan, whether he liked it or not. And oh, did Tidestar hate it.

But while all of this was happening, Tidestar, unable to lash out on the darling kittypet, love of the clan, turned his rage towards his son. The one he had publicly claimed anyways. Shellpaw had been confused by his fathers reveal, and in his confusion it was easy for the leader to whisper lies into his head. Tinkle began to avoid her adopted son, not visibly mind you, but in the little ways, showing preference over Silentpaw and his training, slowly poisoning Shellpaw against herself and her son, while still playing the doting mother.

It was a hard balancing act, but it was pivotal to her plan. She knew she could pull it off, and while a part of her did sting at hurting the cat who was once her son like this, he had never truly been her blood. He was Tidestars, and the cat he had dared cheat on her with, which made him her enemy by extension.

Shellpaw was slowly becoming more and more poisoned, driven towards hatred, it wouldn’t be long before he finally began to snap. And once he went crazy, it was only a matter of time before the entire clan drove itself to madness. Even if she died before it happened, then Tinkle was fine with that. She had made her peace with it long ago. For her little seeds had been sown, it was now time to step back, and watch things play out.

=-=-=-=-

But it was not just Tinkle’s interference that caused problems within the clan. Starclan, in their ever-vagueness, tried also to send warnings to the clan. They sent prophecy upon prophecy. Honeyseed was too wrapped up in Tinkle’s paws to be of any use, and Tidestar so filled with rage that he could not be trusted.
And so they sent messages to the only other remaining cat, Nightpaw.

If there had been another, or if Starclan had finally realized that the old ways were no longer working, that their interference must become more direct, like Shoreclan had been believing for moons…

Maybe a new soul would not have joined their ranks so soon.

Nightpaw’s death is not to be blamed on Starclan, nor on Tinkle. There is no cat to be blamed for his death, and yet, it is not without blame either.

But Starclan has abandoned its vagueness and so too must we. Read on my dear friend, to learn what happened to poor Nightpaw, although I will not make you truly enter his head. For some things are too hard to us to read, and we sadly do not have the time to properly mourn this lost cat.
=-=-=-=-=

The first time Nightpaw had the dreams, he had not known what they had meant. It had happened the night of Starclan’s Deliverance, while he and Honeyseed were dreaming in the Moonpetals, and two white eyed cats had appeared before him.

They warned him of a shining darkness, that rang forth lies as clear as a twoleg’s shriek. Of a power that burned like the ocean, and danger that would threaten the clan until a thick smoke was all that remained.

A bunch of the usual cryptic nonsense, in other words.

The second time was the next night, when it had been revealed that Silverheart, Crabkit, and Coralkit had been killed by Starclan. Tidestar’s mother, Reefstar, had spoken to him, warning him of the “twisting shells that would burn powerful smoke, choking itself out.”

That same night he had been visited by Silverheart herself. She claimed that it had been a lie, that Starclan had not killed her, but before she could explain herself, something else had broken into the dream, shattering it and forcing Nightpaw awake.

He had been afraid to sleep for a few days after that, and too afraid to tell Honeyseed of the ancient cats fighting for the right to speak in his mind.

A few more days passed, with Nightpaw only sleeping by skimming off of the poppy seed stores and crashing hard. Any time he slept light enough for dreams, Starclan filled his nights with warnings of blood, betrayal, murder, and so much smoke he could barely see, with no true explination for what was happening, or why he was given these dreams. The one thing that was blatantly clear though, was the ringing voice at the end of each dream.

"Tell no one, trust no one. Everyone is your enemy and Anyone will see you killed to keep you silent."

The terrified little tom could not keep surviving like this, and eventually, on one dark night, he would take too many poppy seeds by accident, his sleep deprivation confusing him. Nightpaw would eat his poppy seeds that evening, and never wake up.

Now that his life has passed on, and his soul joined those of his ancestors (whom he would spend several years screaming at for driving him to madness, and helping guide the new generation of Starclan to be far clearer in their words and direct in guidance)

=-=-=-=-=-=-
“TIDESTAR”

The shout woke Silentpaw from his dreams, and the young tabby’s head jerked fearfully towards Honeyseed’s den. The ginger and white feline bolted from her log, and skidded to a stop before the sand dune and bush that sheltered Tidestar’s sleeping place.

“Tidestar we have a situation.” the medicine cat said, her tail bushing fearfully.
Silentpaw looked about the clearing, and his heart thumped in his chest. His ears were drifting quickly towards his skull. Although he knew Starclan watched over the clan, it was still terrifying to see the usually calm medicine cat so upset.

"What is it?" Tidestar growled. The leader was often angry, and Silentpaw was glad that he was not the one training under the darkly colored tom.

"Nightpaw...he's..." Honeyseed took a deep breath. "He will not wake up."

Silentpaw's heartbeat spiked, and he started to stand in his nest. Nightpaw had been acting odd the last couple of weeks sure, and he definitely needed the sleep, but Honeyseed wouldn't raise a panic over nothing. She was not the type of cat to do that, to raise this sort of unneeded fear.

"So try harder." Tidestar snapped, the tom was clearly furious, and wasn't thinking straight. The clan had began to gather at this point, although Silentpaw stayed carefully hidden in the rocks of the apprentices den. "There is no need to raise such a fuss!" Tidestar's tail lashed, and Silentpaw winced, feeling pity for Shellpaw to be on the receiving end of Tidestar's fury so constantly.

The elders said that Tidestar used to be a much kinder cat, but after the death of his beloved well...That sort of a thing would change a cat Silentpaw supposed.

Honeyseed shook her head, the trembling of her paws visible, even from how far away Silentpaw stood, and his tail flicked nervously. Even before she said it, Silentpaw had some sort of feeling he knew what she was going to say, but it still stung to hear the words ring clear and true throughout the camp.

"Tidestar," she corrected, taking a single step forward and bowing her head. "Nightpaw's...dead."

Silentpaw's tail tucked between his legs, his dark fur bristling as he watched Tidestar shift from anger to horror. Although the tom was not one to usually show his emotions (aside from anger, of course), it was the only appropriate emotion for the situation. And not even the cruelest of cats would fail to show terror at the announcement of a death within his very camp.

“How?” Tidestar gritted out, tail lashing. The tom looked ready to tear apart the clan, his head swinging around to study the cats gathered around who were already whispering to one another. Silentpaw gulped, and shrunk further into the apprentices den, not wanting to let Tidestars furious eyes land on him. Tidestar had always been unusually harsh with him, no reason to make it worse.

Honeyseed shook her head, a small laugh bubbling up, sounding unwanted and slightly hysterical. “How else?” she asked, ears flattening as she lifted her head towards the stars. “In his sleep.” as the words left her maw, Honeyseed finally let the tears fall from her eyes, and she collapsed to the ground, wrapping herself in her fur.

The clan gasped, cats taking steps away from Honeyseed and Tidestar as the implications of her words washed over them. Tinkle, ever the loving comforter, ran towards the downed medicine cat, wrapping her thick tail over the golden tabby and whispering what were probably sweet words of comfort into the medicine cat's ear, trying to calm the feline down. As she did that, Silentpaw's mind was absolutely reeling.

Only three other cats had been known to die in their sleep suddenly. It had happened when Silentpaw and his brother were still newborn. (Although, Shellpaw was not exactly his brother, nor had he ever been, despite their similarities. And despite Tinkle nursing the both of them. Whenever Silentpaw tried to ask his mother about it, she would simply sigh and explain that it was…complicated.)

But the cats to die had been Shellpaw’s true mother, and his siblings, Silverheart, Crabkit, and Coralkit. Supposedly, Starclan had foreseen some great evil involving the three of them, and had killed them in their sleep to protect the clan. At least that's what the elders said. It was...kind of scary, to think Starclan would just murder little kittens who hadn't even had the chance to make a choice yet. But nonetheless, many of Shoreclan’s rituals had evolved, changing with their new praise for the ancestors, now involving praising Starclan for watching them in the night, and the habit of keeping a night watchcat had been dropped, the clan putting their whole faith in their ancestors to guard them. It was...really stupid Silentpaw sort of thought. After all, what if Starclan took a night off? Or wanted to send Shoreclan a message? Having some cat awake at night to make sure nobody crept in and murdered them all would be pretty dang helpful.

As the clan began to whisper, trying to think what was to become of them if Starclan had felt the need to remove their medicine apprentice from this world, Silentpaw could only wonder what Starclan had seen. What lay in the future, that turned gentle little Nightpaw evil? If they were truly behind his death (and who else could have done it, Nightpaw didn't have any enemies, and there wasn't the scent of any strangers in the camp, that would have been noticed right away)

Silentpaw finally emerged from behind the rocks that sheltered the apprentices sleeping place, and approached Shellpaw. Or, rather he tried, but his adopted brother flinched away, instead choosing to shuffle closer to Tidestar, who had bowed his head, and begun to say the thankful words to Starclan for keeping them safe.

Silentpaw tried to pretend it did not hurt him, but...well, that was a lie. Instead, Silentpaw turned to Hollynose, letting his mentor's dark fur wash over him as he huddled next to her, legs shaking with emotion. His mentor rested her chin on his head, and whispered in words so soft Silentpaw could barely hear them, "Starclan, please don't deny him your grounds. Nightpaw loved you and lived to serve your will. Please, do not let his soul join the Endless Trench, let him swim in your sweet sweet waters for all time."

Silentpaw flinched slightly, as Hollynose wrapped one paw around him and let him huddle closer. He'd forgotten that Nightpaw was Hollynose's son. Silentpaw flicked his tail forward, wrapping it around his mentors paw. Even though he hadn't been close to Nightpaw, he found himself repeating Hollynose's prayers mentally, begging Starclan not to punish Nightpaw more then they already had.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
If Nightpaw had not been distracted with revamping Starclan, he might have visited his mother and explained the true reason for his death. He might have visited Honeyseed, begging her to listen to him, if not her own heart.

But time passes differently in the stars, and by the time Nightpaw turned his gaze back toward Shoreclan, it would not be until Silentstep had left and a new cat was receiving the consequences of Tinkle's machinations.

If only Nightpaw could have known back then, maybe things would have turned out different. He could have led Shoreclan out of their dark days and into a bright and happy future so much sooner.

But if you have not guessed it by now dear readers, this is where the actions of Tinkle truly begin to fade, although she stepped back so many moons ago. Because of her role, so entwined within the clan and the mother of the leader’s sibling’s kits, no longer was she “The kittypet”, she was simply “The one who is now one of ours”. Even without a warrior name, she was now a permanent fixture in the camp, helping cats with their kits and watching happily over them, with such joy you would think they were hers.

But Silentpaw, although he was Tinkle’s son (and there were still the questions of his father, and Tinkle had all but confirmed she had no idea who the tom’s sire was, and with only so many cats on the island, and with only an even smaller pawful looking so exactly like Silentpaw did…)

But that is a rabbit trail for later in this story. And as the days ticked by well…

It was only a matter of time before the truth came out. And when it did, the first cat to learn the secret that had previously been held by only two, would be permanently changed. Warped with fury that this secret had been allowed to keep, but blinded by loyalty and too cowardly to reveal anything.

If Starclan were truly killing the evil in the clan, it would have been better for them to strike down Shellpaw now, before he could become as dastardly as his father. But they were too distracted up in their stars, and thus, he was allowed to remain. Let us see how that reveal began.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Shellpaw's ears flattened with anger. He hated training with his father. He hated spending time with the tom who had refused to claim him until his apprenticeship ceremony, refused to acknowledge Silentpaw, his all but brother, and refused to even look at Tinkle, the cat who had truly raised Shellpaw. But at the same time, he loved and worshiped his father. And wasn't that such a treat? To know his father and be promised leadership one day?

But above all else, Shellpaw hated cross training with Silentpaw. Hollynose was too soft on his adopted brother, at least compared to Tidestar's standards. Especially after Nightpaw had died. Hollynose was grieving sure, he'd allow that. But she was too attached to the dead traitor. Even if Nightpaw hadn't done anything yet, everything lied in that yet.

Every cat that was allowed to live was a purehearted blessing upon the clan, Starclan's actions had proven that! And everyone who died in their night was a traitor.

Shellpaw almost wished that his uncle Turtlestep had died in his sleep instead of fighting off rogues for the protection of the clan. Turtlestep was soft too, and he spent too much time around Tinkle. Tinkle who abandoned him in preference of her true blood son, stupid Silentpaw with the stupidly soft mentor and the stupid fur that looked just like Shellpaws, if Shellpaw didn't have splatterings of white across his fur.

Yewberry had tried to comfort him, saying that all cats had their own training styles, and Tidestar was just continuing tradition. Shellpaw was supposed to be their leader someday, so Tidestar had to be tougher on him. It was logical, yeah. Shellpaw really didn't care to hear about how logical it was.

It was stupid, is what it was. If he was supposed to be Tidestar's son, then why hadn't the tom said so back when things were easier? Back when he was a kit, and Silentpaw really was his brother and life was not confusing. Maybe Shellpaw should just stop thinking. Oh that would be so nice, but he couldn't, he had to keep all of his lessons in his mind, running around and around and driving him crazy.

But he wasn't actually crazy, if he was, Starclan would have struck him down. Tidestar took that as a chance to prove that clearly Shellpaw was a fabulous leader in the future. But he wasn't now, he had to keep working to prove himself worthy of some future self that didn't even exist yet?

Breezepaw tapped Shellpaw's shoulder with an annoyed hum, breaking him from his thoughts. He jerked his head towards the silky white she-cat, her fur inherited from her loner father, and her mismatched eyes a trait of her mother Yewblossom.

"You should not be drifting," the she-cat said with a disapproving scowl, her tail flicking with annoyance as she continued. "Fenneltoe said that Tidestar wanted us to practice by ourselves until they got here, and if they show up and if we are not training-"

Shellpaw shut his eyes in frustration, and shook his head angrily. "Shut up Breezepaw, you should not be complaining for the chance to take a break, just last night Mousepaw said that you were whining about Fenneltoe's training. We can wait a little longer before they get here.” he growled, tail lashing against the dirt, and he knew he would have to groom himself before he slept, since Tidestar would not tolerate dust in his sleeping area, but at the moment he really did not care.

“Oh can you?” a familiar disappointed voice called. Shellpaw’s eyes bolted open, and he turned to see Fenneltoe, Tidestar, Ravenheart, and Mousepaw standing at the edge of the clearing, watching him. Fenneltoe and Ravenheart looked sad, Mousepaw looked embarrassed, and Tidestar...

Well Tidestar looked how he always looked.

Furious.

Breezepaw stepped away with a smirk, and she lifted her muzzle, proclaiming loudly “I tried to tell him Fenneltoe, but he said-”

“Oh we heard what he said,” Tidestar said darkly. “Fenneltoe, take Breezepaw, Ravenheart, and Mousepaw and go fishing. I need to speak with my son about the power of rumors.”

The way he said the word son caused Shellpaw to flinch, and even Fenneltoe looked a bit uncertain. “Sir?” she started to ask, but Tidestar simply swung his head around to glare at her. The she-cat let out a sharp squeak, and flicked her ear at Ravenheart. They nodded briskly, and turned, leading Mousepaw quickly from the clearing. Fenneltoe waited only for Breezepaw to scamper towards her, before leaving as well.

“So, son.” Tidestar spat again. “I think it is time we had a nice…long, conversation, don’t you. You are tired of training, fine then. It is time I taught you of your clans history.”

=-=-=-=-=-=
And oh, talk they did. Tidestar revealed to Shellpaw about the ancient Shoreclan cats, who created the leadership laws, the mateship rites, and of course…the outsiders creed.

To explain in detail about these laws would take days longer than we have together, so let me simply summarize each of these laws.

The leadership laws dictate how each leader of the clan must be of the line of the previous leader. If the leader is not attracted to a mate of the opposite gender, a surrogate must be found so that the next leader is still related by blood. Blood is the most important thing in Shoreclan, who you are related to dictates everything about who you may mate with, but more on that in a moment.

The leader gains ultimate say in the clan, with the exceptions of course, of the word of Starclan. The leaders only checkmate? The one thing keeping them from exerting their total will over Shoreclan? The Advisors, a small circle of cats, close to the leader, who ensured that each of them was in total agreement about a decision the leader had made before it was enacted. There is another whole set of laws for the Advisors, but they…well, they are not important to this story. Not until the end at least, so keep them in mind my dear friend, but let them also fade for just a moment.

We next turn to the mateship rites, which date back to the time of Seastar, the third leader of Shoreclan, when the clan was starting to realize that the clan could not rely only on itself for new blood forever.

The mateship rites dictated that those of the leaders line may only mate with the family of deputies or medicine cats, or, in certain situations, cats who had performed an act of bravery, satisfactory to The Advisors. The firstborn kit would be named as heir of the leader, with any other kits in the litter being allowed for as replacements if the heir should pass. If all of the leaders kits die, then the title would go to siblings kits. And only warriors who have not proven themselves, nor had a family member succeed in an act of bravery in the last two generations, may mate outside of the clan. In order to keep the blood healthy and new.

The act of bravery? Determined by the Advisors and different with each “challenge”. But it is certainly never easy, and there have been many more failures over successful attempts.

And finally, the Outsiders Creed demands that Outsiders may choose to join the clan, however they and their kits will not be eligible for an act of bravery, only if they are nominated for the rank of medicine cat or deputy, may their kin be chosen for leadership. And it is very rare for an Outsider to become a deputy.

You might be asking yourself, if there is an heir, then what role does the Deputy play? They still send out patrols and assist the leader as the head of Advisors, however they do not become a -star. They will never see true leadership, unless the leader dies while their heir is too young to lead. In that situation they will take the place of the leader, until the heir is old enough to receive their lives.

But what do all of these details have to do with what Tidestar told Shellpaw?

Well, truth be told, they were not the only things told to the heir that night. Shellpaw was also granted a deep and terrible secret.

That although Tinkle was not Shellpaw’s mother, Silentpaw was still his blood-brother, and that Tinkle knew perfectly well whom Tidestar, and what his relation to her son was.

And all the anger, the little things slowly building higher and higher, finally broke something in Shellpaw that night.

Shellpaw did not cry when Tidestar told him the terrible secret. But instead, he swore an oath of privacy to his father, promising to never tell anyone, not even Silentpaw.

But whatever it was that snapped within Shellpaw’s heart that night, had broken something permanently. No longer could he talk amicably with Silentpaw or Tinkle, no longer could he meet his pseudo-mother’s gaze. No longer could he stand to even be in the same den as Silentpaw.

And so, Tidestar made arrangements for Shellpaw to start sleeping with him, claiming that the leadership lessons ought be taught from dawn to dusk, and who was the clan to disagree with their leader?

Instead, the tom took the chance to further poison his son’s heart, through the apprentice’s training, giving him “special missions” and rooting out any bit of love for Silentpaw and Tinkle in the tom’s slowly shriveling heart.

Finally, on the eve of Shellpaw and Silentpaw’s warrior ceremony, everything that had been building up, finally snapped.

-=-=-=-=-=-

“I have a final test for you Shellpaw” Tidestar said, his voice calm as he met the gaze of his son. Shellpaw remained silent, knowing by now it was far better to wait for a question than to speak out of turn.

“I want you to confront Silentpaw. I suspect he knows more than he has been letting on, and I want to know exactly what knowledge he possesses, can you handle that?”

“Yes sir” Shellpaw said firmly, keeping his gaze fixed on the skyline. “What information am I trying to get out of him, sir?”

Tidestar growled low “There is only one thing you should be forcing him to reveal Shellpaw, you know that.”

Only moons of practice kept Shellpaw from flinching as he responded “Apologies sir.”

“Now, I want this done at sunrise, the ceremony is to be held at sunset, so you have plenty of time to force the knowledge out of Silentpaw.”

Tidestar began to leave, but paused, turning to fix his pale green gaze on his son. “And Shellpaw…no other cat is to know about this. Whatever you have to do to ensure Silentpaw stays quiet…do it”

“....yes sir.”
=-=-=-=-=-

Silentpaw could not exactly say what was bothering him. Ever since he had woken up in the morning he was due to earn his name, there had been…something, itching in his fur. The only other apprentice in his den was his half siblings, Shinepaw and Turtlepaw, named for their mother’s sister, and their late father respectively. Although Tidestar’s brother had died to a rogue before Tinkle had kitted, Tinkle had proclaimed that one of her kits would be given the name of their father in his honor.

Of course it technically went against the clan’s naming rites, with oceanic based names being set aside for the immediate leader’s children only, well…no cat would dare go against the wishes of their beloved Tinkle, darling of the Clan.

It was a strange relationship Silentpaw had with his mother, but ever since Shellpaw had begun to snub him, she was his only true family in the clan. Silentpaw glanced at the place where Shellpaw’s nest should have been, and sighed, fluffing up his tail and exiting the den.

It was probably just nerves bothering him. The ceremony was not due until sunset, so he had plenty of time for a good relaxing hunt.

=-=-=-=-=-=

If Silentpaw hadn’t gone into the woods alone that morning, he would have been fine. Shellpaw would have stalked into the camp minutes before the ceremony after a day of patrols scenting him across the island but never seeing him.

Silentpaw and Shellpaw both would have been named without a fuss, and everything would have been fine.

But that was not how things went down. Not even remotely.

You see, Silentpaw went into the woods alone, he did not tell anyone where he was going, and trotted happily into the morning fog.

But that was just what Shellpaw was waiting for him to do. What Shellpaw had been planning on his pseudo-brother doing. Because even after moons of strained relationships, Shellpaw still knew Silentpaw like the back of his own paw.

And so, as Starclan watched in grief, Shellpaw attacked Silentpaw, screaming furious questions at the other tom. But Silentpaw, no matter what Tidestar may have thought of him and Tinkle, truly knew nothing of his mothers terrible scheming. Knew nothing of his father’s identity.

And in his rage, just as a patrol arrived to investigate the noises of the woods, Shellpaw’s claws slashed down over Silentpaw’s right eye.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Silentpaw remained curled in the medicine den’s healing nest. He hated being here, but he could not stand the thought of leaving. Honeyseed and her new apprentice, Timberpaw, had healed him, but the damage had already been done.

Silentpaw would never see from his right eye again. Would always be swinging his head about to search for the other half of his vision.

And the cat who had done this to him? The cat who had permanently ruined his vision, permanently effected his life as a warrior?

It was Silentpaw’s own adopted brother. Shellpaw.

But rather, it was Shellstrike now, wasn’t it.

Tidestar had publicly lectured Shellpaw, shaming him for his actions, and in the same evening had rewarded Shellpaw with his name.

Oh sure Tidestar said that the name Shellstrike would be a permanent reminder of the actions he had taken against his kin, but Shellstrike wasn’t the one stuck with an apprentices name, too ashamed to leave the healing log, and face the rest of the clan.

He had already earned the right to a name, but Tidestar refused to name Silentpaw until he had healed, and taken another assessment, proving that he could still “manage as a warrior, despite his disability.”

Just because he was blind in one eye now, that did not mean Silentpaw was going to suddenly not be able to be a warrior! If anything, the darkness on one side only meant that his other senses would improve! He’d be able to hear or scent anything!

Alright, so maybe “anything” was a bit of a stretch, but still. It was the principle of the matter.

“How are you doing?”

Silentpaw raised his head, rotating it to the left to fix his good eye on Honeyseed. The tabby medicine cat was always friendly towards him, even back when he and Shorestrike were kits. Not to say that anyone had ever been unfriendly towards him, except Shorestrike and Tidestar, but...well when your adopted brother turns against you you sort of learn to really appreciate those that you do have.

"Is today going to be the day?" Honeyseed asked, smiling hopefully as she padded closer to Silentpaw.

He sighed, and turned his head away, letting his blind eye face her so that he did not have to watch her face as he responded. "I am not sure Honeyseed. I want to, but...I-"

A rustle of fur on his blind side. Silentpaw turned back to watch Honeyseed sitting down, letting her paws rest underneath her fur. She looked sad, and when she opened her mouth, Silentpaw could already hear the lecture she was about to say.

"Alright."

Silentpaw's head jerked back to to stare at Honeyseed in shock, and she tilted her head, her sad expression turning into a light smile.

"Life has...life has been hard for you Silentpaw, I often wonder what sort of life you might have lived had Tidestar refused Tinkle, or if she hadn't gotten lost all those seasons ago. But you are strong, far stronger than you think, and if you think you aren't ready, then I know you are strong enough that when you are ready you will leave this nest with your head held high, letting no whispers reach your mind."

=-=-=-=-=-=-

Embolded by the healer's words, Silentpaw found himself leaving the den in two days time. Things were hard, and he had to learn how to fight and hunt once again without the use of half his sight. But he was strong. And that wasn't all he had going for him.

Late into each night, Silentpaw was visited by a whispy smoke of a cat, who would show him a full-blind cat leading a small group of cats (some of whom looked strangely familiar, but also...not?) with the confidence of Tidestar and the kindness of Hollynose. As Silentpaw learned by watching the blind stranger, with blind, mute, deaf, and other disabled warriors in his clan, he also learned a kindness. A love for all cats, that the bias and bigotry of Shoreclan towards the "impaired", although quiet, had refused to teach.

Two moons after the fight with his brother, Silentpaw was named Silentstep, and that night, as he sat facing the ocean, the winds of Starclan reached down, and blessed him, altering his good eye to show that their favor was always upon him. Cats called it a miracle the next morning, and his mother was filled with pride, a great loving pride.

But how does this story end? How did Silentstep leave Shoreclan and go to Smokeclan? Well dear reader, I'm afraid I must move quickly for although I would love to share more, we are running out of time.

Three seasons after Silentstep earned his name, Tinkle fell ill, and died. On that night, Shorestrike, in a moment of odd grief, took Silentstep aside, and revealed the truth of Silentstep's father to him.

Two moons after that, Tidestar lost his last life and his body was tossed to sea from the highest cliffs. Shellstrike became Shellstar, and the pressure was on him to take a mate and ensure an heir be chosen, as to the clan's knowledge, the only other cats with claim to the leadership line were Tinkle and Turtlesteps kits.

Shellstar ended up with Mouseblossom, having four kits. All precious little bundles. But more important, comes who was born to Turtleheart, Silentstep's half sister.

She gave birth to a single kit, a soft seal colored cat with tufted ears and swirling stripes. She named him Smokekit, for the fog-like manner of his pelt. But as the days grew longer, it was soon revealed that the kitten was blind. Silentstep felt an attachment to the kit, but Shellstar...

Shellstar grew furious, claiming there was no place in the clan for cats who could not provide. Who could not see to hunt or fight. His vision had been focused on Silentstep the entire time, and that was when Silentstep knew that his days in Shoreclan were numbered.

And so, without a word to any cat, he left. He did not make this decision lightly, but Nightpaw had finally focused back on the clan, and guided Silentstep to make the right decision. With the help of Nightpaw's spirit, Silentstep was led to a series of caves where he was able to travel underwater away from the island, Shoreclan, and all its drama. And now, years later, Nightpaw has finally returned him to the island, to guide his half-nephew, the newly named Smokestar, leader of Smokeclan, a clan of shadows and secrecy, but not towards each other. He would help his young kin to rise up in the darkness, only to eventually kill Shorestar and bring true light to the cats of the island.

And now, well...now is where we are today. So why don't we go and find Silentstep and see how things are going?



[ edited for name corrections that i caught after posting ]