Dark Forest Resident: Crocusmoon
Aliases / Nicknames: Mama, Papa
Gender: bigender (she/he)
Sexuality: asexual, aromantic (queerplatonic open)
Family: Gust (mother), Hush (father), Branchpaw (daughter), Darkecho, Burnetpaw, Oaklight, Cloverhaven (sons), Sunfreckle, Creekpaw, Saffroncreek (adoptive granddaughters), Antlergaze, Pricklenose, Webbeetle, Flameswirl (grandsons), Whirlash, Bonefreckle (adoptive great-granddaughters)
Dark Forest Family: Oaklight, Cloverhaven (sons), Antlergaze, Webbeetle (grandsons), Whirlash (adoptive great-granddaughter)
Other Relations: Darkecho (apprentice), two unnamed apprentices, Bluepelt (mentor), Fringespots (former mentor [briefly]), Frozenfur (groomer)
Clan: ShadowClan
Rank: deputy
Characteristics: stubborn, wants to prove himself, wants to keep his family safe and happy, lonely, charming, enjoys the wet marshes, paraplegic, weak front leg
Murder Motive: protect his family at all costs
Number of Victims: 10
Number of Murders: 9
Murder Method: deliberately sending into dangerous situations
Method of Harm: keeping the secret of his Clanmate's murder
Known Victims: Teaselfleck, Shadeflit, Grackleflicker, several unnamed cats
Victim Profile: Clanmate his son murdered, cats he deemed dangerous to his kits' lives, cats he believed would make his kits' lives worse, his son's mate's affair partner
Cause of Death: buried in ravine collapse
Cautionary Tale: ??
Story:
Note: Crocusmoon goes by both she/her and he/him pronouns. For this story, Crocus will only be referred to as he/him for readability.
--
He was born on the night of the harshest rainstorm the Clans had experienced in several years.
The forests flooded, dens were carried away. There was no energy to spare on two loners when everything was already so chaotic and dangerous. But the two strangers had a newborn with them. How could they be turned away?
Crocuskit couldn't remember any of this, but he knew the events as clearly as he knew he had four paws. Cats wouldn't shut up about it. Elders telling tales about how StarClan must have been punishing them for sending the rain and then more mouths to feed. Specklestar giving more attention to the Clanborn kits than he did the little outsider. The deputy comparing kits to parasites...
There was no place in camp that he could go to to escape it. Everyone thought that he was a burden.
As he got older and his condition became undeniably apparent, that idea only strengthened. A paraplegic outsider who was only taken into the Clan because he needed the help? Yeah, good luck ever repaying them.
Luckily, Crocuspaw was a stubborn young thing, so when he was apprenticed to the medicine cat, he absolutely refused to do anything. He hated the stink of herbs and hated even more that he would have to care for cats that mistreated him. No, he was going to be a warrior like he always planned, working legs or no working legs.
Fringespots lasted two and a half days before storming into Specklestar's den and demanding a mentorship change.
Crocuspaw felt a little bad--mostly due to the fact that his stunt caused more cats to think he was wasting time--but he was more than ecstatic to be apprenticed to Bluepelt, a warrior!
Bluepelt wasn't soft on him, either. In fact, he pushed Crocuspaw even harder than the other apprentices, challenging him more.
When Crocuspaw thought about giving up, Bluepelt lovingly mocked him, saying that maybe everyone was right and he shouldn't be a warrior. It was enough to re-spark Crocuspaw's anger and have him fighting back with renewed energy.
When Crocuspaw asked Bluepelt if he was good enough, Bluepelt told him to not waste his thoughts on such things. If he wants to be a warrior, then be a warrior, and don't waste time worrying about how good he is--just be good. Be great. Be the best.
And when Crocuspaw couldn't sleep, Bluepelt wouldn't hear his excuses. The only thing that mattered was Crocuspaw's ability to train and become the best warrior he can be. Anything that excuses why he can't are just that--excuses.
His claws were as sharp as his words. It was rare for Crocuspaw to return from a training session without a fresh scratch.
With all of Bluepelt's belief in him, it was hard not to get annoyed with his parents, who seemed to have none. They always rushed to get him food from the fresh-kill pile when he was more than capable of it himself, they called him their sweet little kit and fussed over him. It was like they didn't even see him! They only saw their kit--their weak, defenseless kit. Crocuspaw knew they loved him, he did, but he began to seriously doubt if they respected him.
He was tired constantly. From the moment he woke up to the moment he collapsed into his nest, he trained. When he wasn't training with Bluepelt, he was doing exercises with Fringespots and making sure his legs were doing okay.
But it was worth it. Only with a moon delay, he was named a full warrior. The Clan had cheered. They saw him! They saw all the work he had put in! They saw how worthful he was!
More cats saw him, too. The deputy, Frozenfur, began to show an interest in Crocusmoon that had never been there before. Crocusmoon had never felt so happy, or so much....belonging.
He was just as surprised as Fringespots was when the healer told him that he was carrying kits.
He never pictured himself as a parent. Mother, father, otherwise. Maybe sometime down the line, but now? He had only been a warrior for two moons, and now in two more he would be in the nursery with kits suckling at his belly?
He was confused and scared when he heard, and he remained confused and scared right until all five kits were snoring by his side. He was lucky enough not to feel most of the pain, though his inability to move his lower muscles did cause some complications and more than one moment of panic.
At least he had his parents by his side. Frozenfur wasn't there, but....well it was already so crowded.
He didn't come the next day, either. Or the next. Or the next.
Hush would come in and coo over the litter, and Gust would drop by and give advice, but for the most part Crocusmoon was on his own.
And he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.
The kits would yowl, stumble all over the camp, bother tired elders and busy warriors. The only quiet kit was Burnetkit, always glued to his father's side.
Cats whispered. Crocusmoon didn't hear everything they said, but he could see the glances sent his way. The judgement. The pity.
Pity that he was so young and foolish.
Judgement that he was such a bad parent.
Again and again, he asked Frozenfur for help, and again and again he got the same response-- deputy stuff, too busy. Maybe tomorrow.
The only time Frozenfur ever helped out with the kits was when Darkkit snuck out and nearly drowned in a mud-puddle. He scolded Crocusmoon for sleeping when he should have been watching him, not caring how exhausted Crocusmoon was wrangling five kits on his own.
It wouldn't have been so bad if the other parent helped him!
He tried to get help from the ones he trusted most. His parents were happy to pitch in every now and then, but for the most part they encouraged him to raise the kits himself, said every parent needed to learn how to do it on their own. When the kits were happy and polite, Hush and Gust rushed over to play. But the moment the kits became difficult, suddenly Hush was too busy, and Gust would only tell Crocusmoon everything he was doing wrong.
Bluepelt was even worse. He called Crocusmoon stupid for choosing to have kits so soon after becoming a warrior. What was the point of all their hardwork, all the times he made Crocusmoon train until he couldn't stand?
Crocusmoon was beyond frustrated. He didn't want these kits! He never asked for them....But they were the only ones he had. Everyone judged him. Everyone scolded him or pitied him or doubted him. But these kits...they only saw him as their parent, the one to rely on if they are ever hurt, scared, or confused.
He was their rock, and they were his.
The night before their apprenticeship, he made sure to drill into their heads that they can always come to him about anything, and that if at any point something or someone makes them feel bad, not to hesitate to let him know. They are still his kits.
Half a moon into their training, tragedy struck. Frozenfur was 'busy' again, so his apprentice, Branchpaw, went to train on her own, when she was crushed by a fallen branch on her way to the training grounds. Only four days later, Gust carried Burnetpaw--her apprentice--bloodied and torn, into the camp. A fox.
Crocusmoon's blood boiled over, and it took every fibre of his being not to rip his mother apart. But he had to mourn his daughter, and he had to take care of Branchpaw.
His heart broke when Branchpaw, sick and unable to see Crocusmoon, wailed and wailed for his father to come and stop the pain. Crocusmoon had curled around him as tightly as he could, grooming his fur in between reassurances. Branchpaw couldn't feel or hear him, still thinking his father was far away and still calling for him.
When both kits were in the ground, Crocusmoon couldn't help but notice that Frozenfur never once visited the medicine den.
At night, he ran out of the camp and screamed his rage and sorrow until his lungs emptied and his throat burned. He curled his claws into stone so hard that one snapped off.
His kits were his world, his everything. Not one moon after he gave them to someone else to watch, two of his kits died horribly. Ripped apart. Wounded and crying.
He had nightmares of them every night, of Branchpaw struggling beneath a fallen branch, trying to dig her way out until her paws bleed, all while crying and begging for someone to come and help her. He dreamt of Gust leaving Burnetpaw behind when she saw the fox, running to safety and refusing to help as Burnetpaw--little, sweet Burnetpaw--was torn apart.
He couldn't help but scrutinize every little thing Hickoryfoot and Boragedapple did, tagging along with Darkpaw as often as he could, just to make sure he had an eye on all his kits at all times.
Luckily, the rest of their apprenticeship went on without incident. Darkecho, Oaklight, and Cloverhaven all became excellent warriors.
Crocusmoon kept them from harm, but it's harder to keep them safe from their own thoughts. All he could do was let them sigh into his fur and reassure them that they were doing fine.
Then Gust padded into the camp, carrying Cloverhaven across her back. They had been attacked, again. And Gust had gotten away. Again.
Cloverhaven would live, but would forever walk with a mangled, twisted leg.
His mother is hurting his kits. His mother is ruining their lives. His mother is killing them.
He loved her, he did. Or at least, he once did...but his kits had to come first, and clearly they are safer without Gust around.
He blamed her for breaking his family, and demanded that she never, ever, interact with him or his kits ever again. They are no longer family.
A constant sense of dread loomed over Crocusmoon. Everywhere he looked, he saw potential danger. If he was on patrol with his kits, he would never let them confront anything that could hurt them--no matter how much it frustrated them.
But when Crocusmoon fell ill with whitecough, he couldn't look after them. Cloverhaven and Darkecho patrolled together, and only one of them made it back to camp.
Cloverhaven avoided his father, and when Crocusmoon found out why--that Cloverhaven thought that he would blame him like he blamed Gust, his heart broke. He reassured Cloverhaven that Darkecho's death was an accident, and it was not his fault. The conversation made him think of his mother....maybe it was time they talked, and move forward together. He missed her.
He never got himself to make a move in time, though. Thinking and rethinking about what he should say and how and when, days passed by without him saying a word to Gust, until she was found cold in her nest.
All the anger he had held vanished instantly. He ran to his mother's body and held onto it like he would die if he let go, burying his muzzle into her fur and sobbing that he loves her and begging her not to go yet.
Hush told him that maybe it was better not to get attached. Crocusmoon disagreed, his kits were everything.
With anyone else, though, he kept his distance. He couldn't help but notice Goldfur avoiding him after he rejected the other cat's advances. Not that he cared all that much.
Crocusmoon woke up one morning to cats wailing. Frozenfur had gone off on an early morning solo patrol and had been found dead with his neck snapped. Must have slipped on ice. Not long after, Oaklight padded into camp with a fresh wound. Crocusmoon didn't make the connection then, only mourned for someone he had once cared about, and checked on Oaklight's bite-mark over and over.
He wasn't expecting to be named the new deputy, but he wasn't complaining! It was all he had ever wanted for the longest time. Even better, now he had control over what patrols his kits went on. He could protect them. He could keep them safe.
When cats informed him of dangers in the territory, he made sure to send out anyone that wasn't his kin.
He never deliberately put anyone in danger for the sake of putting them in danger. He never intentionally caused someone harm...not yet, anyway.
Then Teaselfleck died, and Cloverhaven confessed to Crocusmoon that he had been the one to do it.
Crocusmoon had to keep his kit safe. He reassured Cloverhaven that everything was alright. What was done was done, no one had to know.
Things were falling apart. Cloverhaven's crime, Oaklight's constant joint pain, and Cloverhaven also had a new mate join the Clan only to be sneered at by Clanmates.
Crocusmoon remembered his own kithood, how hard it was. This Clan would make Cloverhaven's life miserable for the crime of loving someone not born in the Clan.
He didn't mean to kill them, not consciously. He only sent them on the most dangerous patrols in low numbers that could be considered vulnerable.
It wasn't something to feel guilt over. It had to be done. The same went for keeping Cloverhaven's secret, so when Cloverhaven once again went to him about his guilt and wanting to confess, Crocusmoon pressed him not to. What would it do? It would only give the Clan one less warrior and a reason to be suspicious of everyone around them. No, Teaselfleck's death was ruled an accident, and that's exactly what everyone will think. Why renew someone's grief?
His health deteriorated, though not by any externally visible means. His left front leg had grown weak from pulling himself around all his life. Even so, he wouldn't stop to focus on himself or give himself a break. Darkecho died the last time he wasn't paying attention. No, all his focus had to be on his family and keeping them safe.
He noticed Grackleflicker getting a little too violent in an argument with Oaklight...
Cloverhaven came up to Crocusmoon one day, but it was good news this time! His mate, Thicketleaf, was expecting kits!
When Webkit, Antlerkit, Pricklekit, and Flamekit were born, Crocusmoon was over the moon! They had mounds of moss and the nursery was triple reinforced--Crocusmoon made sure of that.
He promised he would always keep them safe and happy.
It only took two moons for him to break it, when Chestnutember--Cloverhaven's other mate and the second father of the kits--caught greencough. The kits were devastated. Crocusmoon wanted nothing more than to take all their pain and hurt and bury it far, far away.
Oaklight earning a mangled leg from what should have been an easy patrol only worsened his feelings. Crocusmoon became increasingly obsessed with making sure his family was okay.
He overheard cats complain about Shadeflit, who always seemed distracted on patrols. Rolling in the grass, sniffing the flowers...distractedness like that could get someone hurt. Crocusmoon couldn't let that happen.
Every little thing worried him. Every blade of grass out of place, every movement in the sky. There was danger everywhere. Crocusmoon also panicked when his kin had an argument. He would think of Gust, and worry that the family would be torn apart. No one should disagree. They all needed to be happy and healthy and together.
Crocusmoon was beyond relieved when all his kin made it to warriorhood. That happiness faded quickly after he saw Oaklight's mate meeting with another cat. That vile thing was going to break his son's heart! Crocusmoon would make sure she didn't. You can't be caught cheating if your affair partner isn't around to tempt you. He would have killed Oaklight's mate as well, but he chose to spare his son that grief.
All his life, Crocusmoon gave all his strength to proving himself, then gave all his strength to his family.
When the ravine collapsed and there was only enough cover for one cat, Crocusmoon made sure Antlergaze got it.
Additional Information:
--Sunfreckle, Creekpaw, Saffroncreek, Whirlash, and Bonefreckle were all born after Crocusmoon died.
--Crocus became leader in-game, but I decided he would die as deputy because the name is better, and also I didn't want the story to get longer than it already was.
--Taken from Lifegen but some events were changed. Here's the full post
--Crocusmoon was created communly. Read the post here!
--Hickoryfoot and Boragedapple were the other mentors of his kits.
--Base by RuissStore on DeviantArt
(Crocus is not a pallas cat, again I just like the design and it fits the character really well!)