Your Fav Probably Dies @adangerouspath-au - Tumblr Blog

May 17, 2019

And here we are! All 6.7K words... Again, I’m very sorry for the wait. I am already working on Chapter 2, so not near as long of a wait this time.

This is the dog attack chapter, so proceed with caution if descriptions of character death, blood, and light gore upset you!

It was a bitter night, even for Green Leaf. Cold winds from the North washed over ThunderClan territory, bringing with them a chill that penetrated Goldenflower’s pelt like thorns. Shivering, she watched as the gusts blew fallen leaves around camp, a reminder that the summer would soon end.

She was crouched just outside the Warrior’s Den, the crescent moon illuminating her fur into a brilliant molten amber. It was unusual for the queen to be awake so late into the lonely night, but she had been plagued with nightmares for the past moon. They tore her from her slumber with a frightening viciousness.

She was alone. She had to be. Distancing herself was a desperate attempt to keep herself from falling apart. It was hard enough, losing a child, but the clan had been restless and stressed as of late. It only piled into the queen’s worries.

It didn’t help it had been weeks since she had a good rest. Every so often she’d succumb to utter exhaustion, but the night terrors remained. These dreams all shared a similar theme, of a bloodied black and white body, too young and too small to have had his life stripped from him so violently. It had been a a little over a moon since Swiftpaw had been killed, and his mother had no time to heal from the devastating blow. Goldenflower could still vividly remember Fireheart bringing her to his body; he was little more than torn flesh and fur. She could barely recognize him. He had been made into something entirely new, a horrific amalgamation of pieces that had once come together to form her brilliant and beautiful son. She loved him, as much as any mother loves her son. She felt responsible; perhaps there was something she could have done to prevent his death. Maybe if she hadn’t been so blind…

Goldenflower’s thoughts were cut off when a soft white paw touched her side gently. She jumped, whipping her head around to see Frostfur standing over her.

“You’re staring at nothing again,” the white queen meowed.

Goldenflower blinked, taking a moment to process what Frostfur had just said. Her words made Goldenflower feel defensive, but she forced her fur to lie flat when she saw the sympathetic expression across the other queen’s face. “I’m sorry, Frostfur,” she began. She hesitated, her mouth opening and closing again as she searched for the right words to explain herself.

Frostfur nosed her ear softly, “You don’t have to apologize to me. I just worry about you is all. It has been… very hard to be a mother in this clan as of late.”

Goldenflower nodded, but said nothing in reply. She cast her eyes down towards the earth. It was covered in trodden yellow-green leaves, another indicator that fall was on the horizon.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. We all are, Brindleface and Willowpelt too,” Frostfur spoke at last. She pressed her pelt against Goldenflower’s gently. “We love you.”

Goldenflower blinked. She felt lost as of late, more so than she had ever felt before. Though she was surrounded by clanmates, they had proven to be less than supportive during her strike of duress. She didn’t blame them, really. She had been filled with raw emotion, barely able to keep it under wraps. She felt as thin as paper and barely able to contain herself. It was understandable that her clanmates walked on eggshells around her, but it was no less disheartening Hearing that someone cared, especially when she felt like little more than a burden to others, was incredibly uplifting. Goldenflower smiled to herself. It was rare for her these days. Frostfur’s words filled her with a slight glow; it wasn’t enough to fill the Swiftpaw shaped hole inside her heart, but it was something.

“And I love you all too. So much.” she said. “Your offer, it means a lot, but… I don’t know if I’m ready. It hurts like nothing I’ve ever faced. Lionheart’s murder… that was bad. And when my little brother was carried away… but nothing compares to when it’s your child.”

“I understand,” Frostfur said softly.

It wasn’t a lie; Frostfur did understand Goldenflower’s grief, but in a different way. As they spoke, her own kit lay in the elder’s den, being treated for the wounds that covered most of her body and face. Frostfur mourned for her daughter’s pain and her suffering, wishing she could protect her just as Goldenflower yearned for her lost boy.

Goldenflower suddenly felt selfish, “I’m sorry, Frostfur, you’re in as much pain as I am. I shouldn’t be victimizing myself. I-”

“Hush,” again Goldenflower felt Frostfur’s white pelt up against her’s. She let herself melt into her friend, finding solace as she continued, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“How is Brightpaw?” Goldenflower asked after a moment, trying to move the subject of conversation. It was an unspoken rule between the queens to never call Brightpaw by the name that was forced upon her. It was given out of hatred and spite. Bluestar had angered the queens- most of all Frostfur- with the blatant disregard for Brightpaw.

“She’s doing better. I mean, as good as she can be, as much pain as she’s in,” Frostfur replied with a sigh, “I’m on my way to her right now, to spend the night. The pain keeps her up, so she likes it when I stay with her. That, and she has had trouble transitioning to the Elder’s Den, though I think it is preferable to being in the clan’s eye.”

“I see,” Goldenflower meowed. “...How does her recovery look? The clan has been talking… you know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought I’d come to you before you heard it from someone else.”

“At the end of the day, I still have my daughter. Life for her will be hard, but beautiful and rewarding as long she’s here. I have that at least,” Frostfur mewed, “I don’t care about what anyone else thinks of her, her face, or what she is or isn’t able to do. If she’s happy, that will be enough for me.”

“And that should be enough for anyone,” Goldenflower agreed.

But it wasn’t. She quietly thought of the Clan’s reaction to the attack, and especially about Bluestar’s behaviour. It was clear that Brightpaw would always face social challenges because of her injuries; the extreme unfairness of it was enough to spur Goldenflower to speak.

“I just wanted to say, if you ever wanted to confront Bluestar and the clan about this- what all that has happened, I mean- I’ll be there,” Goldenflower meowed, her voice quiet like the breeze that ruffled her fur. “Starting with Brightpaw’s name. I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever I can to make Bluestar see what she’s done to us.”

Frostfur’s eyes blazed at the mention of Bluestar’s name. Goldenflower opened her mouth to continue, but Frostfur had already snapped.

“What’s there to talk about? She turned her back on us. She scorned you when you wanted answers for your son’s death. She damned my child with a horrible name and turned her into a social pariah. And the clan follows in her footsteps,” Frostfur’s lip curled, “I can never forgive her for that.”

Goldenflower said nothing. She had never seen this emotion come from Frostfur before. She did however, understand where Frostfur was coming from, as she too had these moments of sheer rage- towards her leader, towards her clan, and towards whatever had ravaged her son.

But as quickly as it appeared, Frostfur’s anger dissipated. Her fur gently fell back into place and her claws sheathed themselves. She almost seemed embarrassed by her sudden burst of emotion, as she looked anywhere but at Goldenflower’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I know she… hasn’t been herself lately.”

“It’s okay,” Goldenflower meowed. “She has hurt you. She has hurt your daughter. You’re allowed to be angry.”

Both queens sighed in unison. Goldenflower cast a glance over to Bluestar’s den. It was bathed in shadow, but she could still see the lichen-covered mouth. Goldenflower silently wondered if Bluestar could hear their conversation from this distance, but told herself otherwise.

After a few seconds, Frostfur spoke again, her voice tired, “I do appreciate the offer, but I don’t think Bluestar is capable of listening. She hasn’t been for a long time. It hurts to admit, but I think the cat she once was- my leader, my mentor, my friend- has died. And I don’t think she’s coming back. Not this time.”

Frostfur, continued, still avoiding her friend’s eyes, “I haven’t forgotten who she once was, and I never will. A part of me will always love her, but I wonder if the ugly part of me that hates her for what she’s done overshadows that.”

Goldenflower hummed softly in agreement. It was hard to admit, because both mollies wanted desperately to stand behind and support their ailing leader. But her actions as of late had soured their willingness to tolerate her poor treatment of them and their desire for justice. Goldenflower was almost relieved to hear dissent so similar to her own feelings come from Frostfur.

The pair fell silent, with nothing but the trees and grasses stirring quietly in the background. The moon had long began its descent in the sky by now, with a faint pink hue illuminating the horizon beyond the mountains to the east. It would soon be dawn, and this night- this intimate moment between two close friends- would be over and forgotten.

“Well then, I suppose another day will be starting soon. We can’t escape that, as much as we try,” Frostfur barked a laugh as she cast her eyes to the horizon. She gently pulled away from the Goldenflower. The queen instantly missed the warmth of her friend’s presence.

It had been a long time since Goldenflower had been able to open up to anyone. She was not yet ready to retreat back to her facade of pretending to be okay, while silently suffering on the inside. She could tell that Frostfur felt similar by the way she slowly stiffened, her blue eyes regaining their false hardness.

“I should be getting to Brightpaw while there’s still moon left,” Frostfur continued, running her tongue over her shoulder to smooth where she had been pressed against Goldenflower. “I appreciate us getting to talk. I really do.”

“Of course,” Goldenflower replied, standing on stiff legs. She stretched with a yawn, shaking her long ginger coat to rid it of any dirt and stray leaves. “All of us queens need each other, and we’ll support you anyway we can.”

Frostfur smiled gently, and Goldenflower could see that unlike as of late, this smile reached her eyes. It made Goldenflower’s heart soar to see her friend’s genuine happiness.

“I bid you good-night, Goldenflower,” she mewed softly, butting her head against Goldenflower’s chest. With a soft look, Frostfur turned and made her way to to the elder’s den.

Goldenflower watched her go, not tearing her eyes away until she saw Frostfur’s tail tip disappear inside the mouth of the the den. It took her only a few seconds to realize she was now alone again. Her ears fell in dismay and she forced herself to look elsewhere.

The camp was quiet as the grave, with not a soul out roaming. She could remember Brindleface leaving to take guard outside of the camp entrance, but she hadn’t seen anyone else in a few hours. As much as she hated being around others in her grief, it was preferable to being trapped in the prison of her own mind, with nothing but the imagery of Swiftpaw’s body to keep her company.

Now by herself with her thoughts once more, weight of his loss once again threatened to suffocate her. She shuddered as she tried to keep his once bright amber eyes out her mind, knowing that they were now dull and dead, never again to shine with love for his mother.

However, her conversation with Frostfur had put a nicer, warmer thought into her head; she still had two living children. They needed her more than ever now, just as Brightpaw needed Frostfur. Again, she felt selfish, hoping she hadn’t burdened either of her kits with her grief.

She decided to visit them. She wouldn't wake them, but just a peek would surely fill her with enough vigour to continue through another day. Seeing their bright, young faces flooded her with energy and aspiration to make the world better for them, even if it seemed awfully dark nowadays.

Quietly, she retreated from where she stood and padded over to the clump of ferns that sheltered the apprentices. She walked on soft paws, not wanting to wake them or their denmates, Fernpaw and Ashpaw.

She noticed that the ferns that sheltered their nests had regrown substantially after the fire; it made Goldenflower content to know that that her children would stay warm as the months for colder. She cast a gaze around the clearing, knowing that in a blink of an eye, it would be snow covered. She was pleased to know that it at least be green for a while longer.

As she neared the threshold of the den, a familiar scent passed by. Her nose wrinkled as she struggled to put a name on it, as if its wearer had purposely masked their scent. She could barely pick up on it through the thick aroma of tansy and damp ferns. The closer she got to the entrance, the stronger it became, until it was nearly overpowering. Whomever had left this trail had left it recently, and by the smell of it, they had stopped just where was standing, as if speaking to those inside. She narrowed her eyes, concentrating, only for it to become quite clear in an instant.

Darkstripe.

She had never really given Darkstripe a second thought up until recent. Though foul-mouthed and unpleasant to be around at times, he had never really stood out as anything than an underachiever. He had followed around Tigerstar like a lost kitten, but left her alone even when she came into his life. Only when her ex-mate was outcast had he started showing any interest in her and her family.

She didn’t mind him at first, as he was only trying to cope with the loss of his friend and mentor. She tolerated him, just, but as the weeks passed, he started to become more and more aggressive in his interactions with her. Goldenflower could remember a few times when she was tempted to spit in his face for his blatant disrespect.

His conversations with her children were even more troubling. He spoke in hushed tones, but she always heard him. Fireheart had long since told Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw of their father’s actions, but Darkstripe had been weaving a much different story of grandeur and bravery on Tigerstar’s part. Darkstripe’s apologism for a serial killer troubled her enough, but now that it had started to taint her own children, did it really begin to eat away at her.

Goldenflower had warned her children of course. Darkstripe may claim that history was written by the victors, but the Clan knew otherwise. She had failed to see Tigerstar’s sadism and blood lust before he was brought to trail, but afterwards things began to click into place. She would not allow her children to fall under the same spell that blinded her to Tigerstar’s brutality.

It seemed they had not listened to her, or Darkstripe had made himself very convincing.

When his scent become recognizable, Goldenflower felt her upper lip curl in disgust. She stifled a small growl from deep within her throat, not wanting to give herself away. Without another word, she breached the entrance to the den.

To her surprise and horror, both Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw’s nests were empty. Goldenflower’s ears flattened in dismay. Immediate panic began to bubble in her chest. She turned to the closest sleeping mound, Ashpaw, and prodded him awake with urgency.

“Where are Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw?” she questioned before Ashpaw could open his eyes.

He blinked at her a few times, confused, “What? I don’t know what you mean?”

She gestured to their empty nests for clarification, “Where are my children? They should be sleeping; did you see them leave, or go with anyone?”

Ashpaw glanced at Goldenflower, to Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw’s nests, then back at Goldenflower again. He looked even more lost. Goldenflower was quickly losing her patience; she shifted her weight between her paws nervously.

“They weren’t in their nests when I came to bed… around sunset? Fernpaw was asleep already,” Ashpaw whispered after a few seconds of thought. He scrunched his nose, as if trying to recall his recent interactions with them. “I don’t remember them coming to their nests until late, actually, but I was barely awake.”

“Did they say anything when they came to the den?” Goldenflower prompted further. Ashpaw frowned again; she knew from his expression that he was unsure. The queen sighed.

“They were whispering to each other, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying,” another small voice meowed from beside Ashpaw. Goldenflower recognized it as Fernpaw immediately, and could see her green eyes peeking over Ashfur’s spotted backside.

“I thought it was just about patrol stuff, or something, so I tried to hear in. They have better stories because they’re younger and are allowed to do funner stuff than us. I couldn’t understand their mumbling,” Fernpaw’s face ducked behind her brother, “Brindleface says it’s rude to eavesdrop; please don’t tell her I was listening.”

If she wasn’t in a state of fear, Goldenflower would have chuckled. But she had only one concern at that point, and that was making sure Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw were safe. A familiar feeling of terror was beginning to fill her; it reminded her of the sheer horror she had felt when she realized that Swiftpaw was gone.

She would not lose another child.

“I just have one last question, and then you two can go back to sleep,” Goldenflower pressed, urgency dripping off of her tongue. “Have you seen Darkstripe around either of them as of late? Even if it didn’t seem like much, it is important. Anything you saw, I need to know.”

“Oh yeah!” Ashpaw exclaimed, as if happy to have useful information.

“Darkstripe talks to them all the time. I don’t know what they talk about, but-“

Fernpaw didn’t get the chance to finish, as Goldenflower had already rushed out of the den. She had all the information necessary to conclude that Darkstripe had something to do with their empty nests. She felt anger well up inside her chest.

There was no way they were still in camp. Darkstripe was reminiscent of a snake, but even he would have trouble finding a secret spot inside the ravine. He would have taken them into the forest. Goldenflower ran through countless conversations and social interactions in her mind, trying to land on a motive. It had all to do with their father, that much was certain.

It all clicked in an instant as Goldenflower recalled her mate’s demand for Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw at a previous gathering. If Darkstripe had been circling her kits for this long, he would have had plenty of time to plan a way to get them to Tigerstar. She felt stupid. This was the plot all along, to sweep her kits out from underneath her.

She would need to find a way to get them back. She hoped she was wrong, and that they were just talking in the forest somewhere, but an odd feeling told her otherwise. Goldenflower only hoped the Clan felt as much anger as she did, and her concerns would not be pushed aside yet again.

“What’s going on?” a voice meowed quietly from behind her, snapping her out of her thoughts. Goldenflower twisted around to see both Fernpaw and Ashpaw peeking out at her, already out of their den. Their eyes looked inquisitive and curious; they had no idea of the severity of the situation.

Goldenflower opened her mouth to reply, but Ashpaw immediately turned his attention elsewhere. The apprentice’s eyes flicked towards the entrance of camp, a confused expression clouding them. She noticed his hair beginning to stand on end as his eyes gradually widened in fear. Goldenflower followed his gaze, puzzled and concerned.

The wind was blowing steadily towards them, bringing with it a scent that Goldenflower had trouble recognizing. In her anger, she had failed to initially notice it. It seemed familiar, but clouded somehow, as if she was scenting the ghost of someone she had known before. It felt comforting and unnerving at the same time. She took a step forward, nose to the air.

As she began to hear noises in the undergrowth, it all became evident in an instant. A dreaded memory washed over her, one that she had attempted to bury many times over:

“Move, I need to see him,” Goldenflower pleaded, her voice shaking with despair. “I need to see my son.”

Fireheart did not move out of her line of vision. His eyes were clouded with horror, as if what lay beyond him both terrified and disgusted him. It made her that much more determined to see Swiftpaw.

“Please, Fireheart.”

After a moment's hesitation, Fireheart nodded solemnly and padded out of her way, leaving Goldenflower no shield to protect her from the truth. She braced herself, but it did nothing to stop the revulsion from overpowering her.

There was no body. Not anymore. What was left of her son was reminiscent of a great red smear across the ground. Pieces of him- ones that should never breach air- were scattered haphazardly throughout. Nothing was recognizable, save for the smallest tuft of black and white fur, that had somehow escaped being trampled into the bloody remnants.

It wasn’t until Fireheart wrapped himself around her, murmuring apologies, that she realized she was screaming.

Goldenflower snapped out of her memory, shaking her head as if to purge the horrifying image from her head. She forgot where she was for a second; only when Fernpaw tensely broke the silence did she come back to where she was.

“Goldenflower?” she asked, the panic rising in her voice as the trampling sounds grew louder, “What do we do?”

Goldenflower did not reply, only starred past the maw of camp into the shadows. The scent… it felt so familiar because she had smelled it before. It clung to the pieces of her son, to Brightpaw, and to the air around Snake Rocks. She felt foolish that she had been unable to recognize before now.

It was the smell of dogs.

Goldenflower turned to the apprentices, her face twisted in an unreadable expression. She opened her mouth to speak. Her voice was barely a whisper over the sound of great paws approaching.

“You need to listen to exactly what I tell you to do.”

“Why, what’s wrong-“ Fernpaw tried to reply, before being cut off growl that echoed throughout camp. It came from just beyond the brambles and bracken that protected the camp from intruders. All three cats froze and turned towards the ravine entrance. A distinct shadow could be seen pushing its way through the undergrowth, it’s path certain.

“I want Fernpaw to alert the warriors, while Ashpaw goes to Bluestar,” Goldenflower ordered as she looked back at the young cats. “I want you to tell them that there is a large dog trying to get into camp, and we need everyone out here to protect the queens and elders.”

Her face turned grim as she continued, “I then want you to get as far away from here as possible. Climb trees if you can, but do not go into any burrows or dens; it will dig you out if it catches you.”

Both looked at her in horror for a few seconds, before turning on their paws and bolting in opposite directions. Ashpaw had not gotten far when he skidded to a halt.

“What about you? Will you be okay?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just do as I’ve told you and get yourself out of camp,” she hissed urgently as the crashing from the undergrowth became unbearably loud. The dog would break through the wall any second now. “And whatever you see, whatever you hear, don’t come back.”

She watched him go, hoping he would follow her orders to find safety. She could just hear the sound of her clanmates waking up when the scent- both foreign and familiar to Goldenflower- washed over the clearing.

She turned to find herself looking directly into the eyes of the dog, it’s black furred face only a dozen feet away from where she stood. The beast mirrored her own features, with a sharp predatory face and long canines that gleamed in the low light. It was almost a parody of herself, golden eyes reflecting her own.

She could feel it’s hatred burning through her, but it paled in comparison to her own. This was the creature responsible for Swiftpaw’s suffering. It had torn him apart and left him to rot, only a fragment of the cat he once was. Her lips pulled back in a grotesque snarl.

Her mind flicked to Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw, remembering that they were safe out of camp. She wasn’t sure where they were, but they weren’t here, and that’s what mattered. Goldenflower had nothing to lose now. She could put all of her rage into making sure this beast paid for her grief, even if it destroyed her in the process.

It had only been a few seconds, but it felt as if she had been staring at the dog for hours. Both stood eerily still. It was if each was waiting for the other to make a move. Goldenflower felt no fear, especially as she heard her clanmates pour out of the warriors den behind her.

To its credit, the dog did not flinch at the sight of more adversaries. Goldenflower couldn’t understand why it didn’t back down, until more growling began to echo from behind it. In that instant she froze, her bravery dissipating into thin air.

There was more than one of them.

With a screech from behind her, the clearing erupted into chaos. The shuck tore itself free from the last few brambles protecting camp and cantered into the clearing, covering it in only a few strides.

Goldenflower saw Dustpelt and Cloudtail, side by side, dash past her. Their fur was puffed to twice their size and their lips were curled back in anger. More cats followed, but they were just a blur in her panicked vision.

“Stop, there’s more than one!” she screamed, but it was drowned out by the sound of frenzied barking and screeching. The noise seemed to be coming from everywhere, and as she looked in horror around camp, she realized it was. Every cat she saw had their mouth open- be it screaming in terror or defiance, she did not know.

Goldenflower watched in horror as Cloudtail and Dustpelt weaved around the first dog, unknowing that they were locking themselves into a trap. She tried to force herself to take a step forward, to help them, but her body did not listen. Only when a second dog forced its way in did she snap out of it. She managed to look away just as it closed its jaws around Dustpelt’s torso. Though she could not see, she could hear him crying out loudly above the rest.

The Clan was in full chaos by the time Dustpelt hit the ground.

Goldenflower scrambled on shaking legs away from the dogs. Any bravery she had was long gone, now replaced by fear for her clanmates. Many cats pushed around and past her, each with eyes wide open and panicked, just as she was. Any words she spoke were drowned out by the noise; trying to call out to them was impossible.

The dogs fully breached the camp entrance. There was at least five of them, of varying sizes but all much larger than the strongest of their warriors. Cloudtail had disappeared in a miasma of fur and teeth; Goldenflower did not see what happened to him, but she did smell the strong scent of blood. It stuck to the roof of her mouth and made her that much more fearful.

As she tried to find her way to safety, Goldenflower briefly saw one of the dogs trying to scrape its way into the medicine den. Another pushed its way towards the fallen tree where the elders resided, penetrating the rotten bark with its powerful forelegs. In the chaos she faintly saw faces of cats she knew, but in this instance, they all looked like strangers.

The screaming continued, intermixed with the sound of bloodthirsty hounds. Goldenflower caught a glimpse of a ginger shape thrown to the ground just feet in front of her. The crimson streaked fur and crumpled form was enough for her to know that they were dead.

Blood and fur had begun to pool along the ground from where cats had fallen. It made it hard to keep footing. Goldenflower barely kept her paws under her as she darted around the Warrior’s den, trying to keep out of the way of trampling paws. It was all for one now. She watched with frightened eyes as cats pushed past one another in a desperate attempt to escape.

She had to help evacuate who she could, but it was impossible to locate any one cat throughout the swarm. Calling out proved useless. The noise level was overwhelming and unbearable. She doubted that anyone would even listen to her regardless.

As she skirted the camp, she nearly knocked herself into Whitestorm. His fur was matted with blood from a deep wound on his shoulder. The foreleg hung limply, useless. An eye was also swollen shut, as if he had been thrown against something sharp. He looked exhausted but determined. The sight of him was enough for Goldenflower to regain some sense of hope. He would know what to do. He always did.

“Help me, help me get my kits,” he meowed through heavy breaths as she crouched beside him. Both cats looked towards the west of camp, where the nursery remained relatively untouched. Most of the cats had congregated in a mass to reach the emergency exists, trampling one another. It thankfully left Willowpelt out of the way of the chaos. Through hazy eyes, Goldenflower would faintly see her pale face through the lichen screen.

“I will cover you as you go,” Whitestorm meowed shakily, casting a glance over his ruined shoulder. “I will not be fast enough with this wound. If I can distract them- even for a moment- you can get in there.”

“No, you can’t! Come with me!” Goldenflower cried out. Her hope disappeared once more. Whitestorm had been a close friend of hers. He was the clan rock, someone who was always there to lead in time of disarray. The thought of not having the big tom in her life anymore made her chest heave and twist in grief.

“You must, please,” he pleaded, shaking his head desperately. “Please, before they realize and kill her too. She doesn’t deserve to die.”

“You don’t deserve to die either! We can do it together!”

Whitestorm looked at her for a brief second, a sad expression coming across his face, “It will be okay, I promise. Just go. If I make it out, I’ll come find you. But you can’t wait for me.”

Goldenflower swallowed hard, fighting back grief as she contemplated his idea. The world seemed to be spinning. She could barely concentrate over the yowling and the reek of blood. How could she agree to let her friend die?

Swiftpaw’s body flashed in her mind again. Goldenflower could not imagine leaving Willowpelt to die like that, or her kittens. What Whitestorm was offering was a chance at life for them, even if he would die in the process.

Goldenflower locked eyes with Whitestorm and nodded in agreement, though it killed her on the inside. He smiled and without another word, hobbled out from behind the warriors den. Goldenflower had little time to react, and found herself sprinting across the camp. She disappeared into the mouth of the nursery just as she heard Whitestorm’s pained scream pierce through the air.

Willowpelt had backed herself into the corner, her face twisted in an unreadable expression. Her kittens pooled around her paws. They all looked confused. The walls of the den only barely muffled the sound of death from outside; it hurt Goldenflower deeply to know that the kittens had heard every cry, scream, and howl.

“We need to get you out of here,” Goldenflower meowed as she entered, trying to keep her voice steady. “We can’t go out of the den, as they’ll see us. We’ll have to dig out the back.”

Willowpelt nodded solemnly. Without further words between them, both queens began to claw away at the brambles protecting the rear of the den. The thorns sharply cut into Goldenflower’s pads. She gritted her teeth and kept pushing, even when they became damp with blood.

“Where are the others? We will need help carrying the kits.” Willowpelt meowed through a clenched jaw; her pads there just as torn up as Goldenflower’s. They both left crimson paw prints along the ground, a stark contrast between the soft moss and feathers used to line their nests.

“It’s just me,” Goldenflower replied softly, just trying to keep her friend on task. Though panic and terror still pumped through her, it seemed as if Willowpelt had an eerie calm. It frightened Goldenflower; she silently hoped Willowpelt wouldn’t shut down.

“What about Greystripe? Brindleface?” Willowpelt continued, voice placid, “Speckletail must be around.”

Goldenflower repeated herself, “It’s just me.”

“Your kittens?”

Goldenflower paused briefly. She should have known another queen would be worried about her children as well, even under such stress. They did not have the time for a lengthy explanation.

“Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw snuck out of camp. Wherever they are, they’re not here…and anywhere is safer than here. I have to believe that they’ll stay safe,” she explained hurriedly. She wanted to believe her words.

Willowpelt made a unintelligible noise in reply, but to her credit, didn’t let up on the digging. Goldenflower could see a hole in the bracken now, just big enough to force their way through. Her paws throbbed in pain.

“I hate to ask… but which of your kits can run the fastest?” Goldenflower asked, looking anywhere but at Willowpelt, “If they had to, I mean.”

The grey tabby thought for a second, before replying, “Sorrelkit.”

“There’s only two of us, so we’ll each carry Rainkit and Sootkit. You go first, and I’ll go last. Sorrelkit will run in between us,” Goldenflower explained. She was acutely aware that the noise from outside had died off almost completely. They only had a short window to get away before the dogs attention would turn towards them.

“They’ll catch us.”

“If we go far enough into the forest, and climb a tree, they won’t,” Goldenflower assured, “And if I think they’re going to catch us, I’ll make sure you can get away.”

“How?”

Goldenflower swallowed, but her voice remained still, “By letting them kill me.”

Willowpelt’s expression hardened briefly, before it returned to its eerie stillness. Without another glance, she pulled Rainkit close to her and picked him up by the scruff. Goldenflower nudged Sorrelkit along behind her mother, but before she scruffed Sootkit, she recalled her earlier conversation with Ashpaw.

“And Willowpelt… whatever you see, whatever you hear, don’t come back.”

-----

The sprint into the forest was one of the most terrifying moments of Goldenflower’s life. Every tree and bush looked like it could hide another dog. She tried to focus on the little mottled tail of Sorrelkit in front of her, not wanting to lose track of her clanmates in the undergrowth.

It had seemed as if they slipped away unnoticed. The screams from camp had mostly been replaced with barking and howling; if that meant everyone had gotten to safety, or was dead, Goldenflower didn’t know.

After a few moments of running, Goldenflower slowed to a halt. Sorrelkit was quick to stop, as was Willowpelt. Both of their sides were heaving from exhaustion. On top of that, both queens’ feet were saturated in blood from digging. It nauseated Goldenflower.

They were close in proximity to the center of the forest. The trees were dense and plush here; perfect for hiding in and staying out of sight. Goldenflower could imagine the dogs would never abandon a tree if they spotted them in it. It was crucial they remained hidden.

The golden queen gestured to a large maple. It’s dappled leaves were just beginning to change with the coming cold season. The foliage would camouflage them from anything that followed their trail.

Willowpelt nodded in understanding. She quickly scaled the tree with ease, Sorrelkit struggling behind her. Once Rainkit was safe on a sturdy looking branch, Willowpelt scrambled down and grabbed her daughter by the scruff, hauling her the rest of the way.

Wordlessly Goldenflower followed up to where Willowpelt was crouched, and chose a branch slightly to the left of her. It was high enough as to where nothing would be able to reach them, and the foliage disguised them. Safe, for now.

Once Sootkit was settled securely on the branch, Goldenflower moved to climb down. The rest of the Clan was still in danger. She needed to go back and check if anyone else needed to be evacuated. The thought was terrifying to her, but she couldn’t leave them. She was thankful that Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw had been out of camp when it happened; she would fight until death had they been caught in the massacre.

“Where are you going?” Willowpelt’s voice stopped her. “You said there was just you.”

“I have to go check for survivors. There could be cats trapped in camp and unable to get out.”

Willowpelt shook her head violently, reaching out with a striped paw, “No, stay with me.”

“I can’t-“

“Everyone is dead. We know that. You will die too if you go back. They’ll find you and kill you,” Willowpelt continued, as if Goldenflower hadn’t spoken, “You have to stay. I won’t let you leave.”

“What if there are survivors?” she argued.

Willowpelt shook her head again in response, “You said, that whatever happens, we don’t go back.”

“I meant you. You have kittens to look after.”

“And so do you,” Willowpelt insisted. She was beginning to regain her sense of clarity. “If Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw are safe like you say, they will need you. I will not let you orphan them.”

Goldenflower huffed and looked away, tail lashing. The thought of orphaning her kits made her heart ache, but so did the thought of leaving her clan to die. Willowpelt had a good point, that whatever damage had been done was irreversible; any cats who had gotten out would have had to have found safety by now. The rest were likely dead.

She wordlessly gave in. With a worn out sigh, the golden queen settled herself down on the branch. Sootkit immediately pressed himself into her fur. Despite all that had happened, Goldenflower found herself purring. If it was comfort him or herself, she was not sure.

She looked back over at Willowpelt, who had curled herself awkwardly around Sorrelkit and Rainkit. One of her blue eyes remained open, as if making sure Goldenflower would not try and go back to camp behind her back.

If anything was of comfort, it was knowing Willowpelt and her kits were safe. Goldenflower thought in horror of the clan trampling and push each other in fear. She wondered how it would have turned out if she succumbed to the same instinct. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to to imagine Willowpelt left alone in the den, waiting for her painful death.

Gradually, the queen began to doze off. Her entire body ached and her energy was depleted. As she was about to pass out, Goldenflower heard a soft meow across from her. She did not need to open her eyes to know it was Willowpelt who had spoken again. Her voice was barely discernible from the morning wind rustling the branches above them.

“Thank you.”

It was the last thing Goldenflower remembered before succumbing to exhaustion, her world fading to black as nightmares once more took hold of her.

#warriors #warrior cats #warriors au #warriors rewrite #goldenflower #chapters #how do i tag this #blood tw #gore tw #character death tw

adangerouspath-au

Feb 2, 2019

Scourge and BloodClan - Dogs of War changes

BloodClan is not an official clan at this point in the story, nor are they the bloodthirsty creeps they are in canon. They function more like an authoritarian mafia-esque group of cats that work to keep the city fed and under control. They are responsible for everything, from keeping tabs on threats, solving disputes, and tracking the population down to the last cat. They have a frightening amount of knowledge on each member of the city, even the kittypets.

Scourge is the face of this group.

I have seen quite a few different takes on Scourge; him being socio/psychopath is common (and pretty accurate). However, what scares me more, is a monstrous person who is perfectly capable of empathizing and relating to others, but still chooses to act out in vile ways. Even in the books, the things Scourge did were awful and without remorse, but I view him more as a product of his environment more than ‘born bad’. Not to say he should excused or pitied, as he is still a terrible cat, especially in this au.

Using a false demeanour he’s assumed, he is able to keep control over the group quite easily. He still experiences strong, albeit brief, surges of emotion and conflict, but doesn’t outwardly display them. Though he maintains this cold and indifferent facade, he fosters a storm of immense cruelty just beneath the surface. Fortunately for him, he is able to restrain this part of himself rather well. Unfortunately for those who cross him, he does allow himself to unleash his wrath when it suits him. However, Scourge in this au reserves his destruction for private only, as any sane group would never follow someone so outwardly nasty as he was in the books.

Still, there are whispers of grim things happening in dark alleys, far away from the city’s main populace, but only his innermost circle can confirm or deny this. Very few know that Scourge conceals more brutality than he tells, be it for maintaining power, respect, or more sinisterly, his own amusement. Still, the city is in better control than it ever has been, so those whispers are quietly ignored or dispelled as foul rumours.

Very few have actually seen him in person or know what he looks like, but he has a huge presence in the city. Many cats will give tribute to their leader and he is the first they all run to when something goes astray. He is a proficient problem solver, and so long as his... creative... methods stay hidden, he isn’t in any real danger of a revolt.

Bone is one of Scourge’s majordomos, so to speak. He has great command in the city and is pretty much free to do as he pleases. Scourge and Bone are cut from the same cloth, being rather ruthless cats with a sadistic streak. Bone acts out a lot more, and Scourge struggles to keep him on his leash. He refers to Bone as a ‘rabid dog’ quite frequently.

Brick is also one of Scourge’s heads, and the much more sensible of the two. They have been made genderfluid, using they/them pronouns, as their gender wasn’t confirmed for a long time if I recall correctly. They aren’t outwardly malicious or act out violently, and don’t approve of Scourge and Bone’s behavior at all. Still, they are quite attached to their uh, friends and their position of power, so they try and run the city as best they can while avoiding the depravity of the other two. Not to say they have good morals, but they at least try.

Both ‘friends’ are the only ones Scourge trusts. They function as caretakers to him as well, as he isn’t known to take the best care of himself. They bring him prey, groom him, share nests, and keep tabs on things when he isn’t able to.

These guys will show up in the story and play a big part, but for right now, the clans are blissfully unaware of their existence. Scourge however, has had his beady little gremlin gaze on the forest for some time, and unfortunately for a certain brown tabby, he has never, ever forgotten the violence that he experienced there. ;)

#scourge #warrior cats #wc #warriors #worldbuilding #i guess that will be my tag for writing stuff that isn't a chapter

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