#fadingstar

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Planning out the comic and realizing that the fleathistle that comes home might not be the fleathistle that Fadingstar remembers - @wills-woodland-warriors

Oh no

oh no

oh no

@liberhoe

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Medical Collar (short story)

“What is it?” Fleathistle asked, trying not to seem too anxious as he was led away from his herb garden. He had been neglecting his ferns. They seemed to be wilting more than usual…but he didn’t want to seem rude, and forced his chin up. 

“Here!” Shiverrose exclaimed at last, stopping by an old log. She ducked into it and a moment later, pulled out a circular, collar-like…plants? 

Fleathistle tilted his head curiously. “What is it?”

“Well, you know us medicine cats have been starting to wear these things, given how hard it can be to come across any useful medicine–yourself not included. And I thought ‘you know who could really use one?’ So here you are.”

“But I’m not….” Fleathistle began, then trailed off. Shiverrose was looking at him doubtfully, and to be truthful, he didn’t believe what he was going to say, either. He leaned forward and sniffed at the…what would he call it? Medical collar? 

Whatever the proper term for it would be, the medical collar was very clearly well made. Tough vines looped around four times, holding the structure tight. Fleathistle could see leaves folded perfectly to make pouches all along the inside. “Those must have been hard to make!”

“They were! Twolegs make folding things look so easy. But we got it done!” 

“It looks great! Does yours have this many pouches?”

Shiverrose shook her head. “I figured you would have a tough time deciding which of your herbs to carry with you, and then when you’ve gathered your entire stock, you'd need something to keep them separate. You can do berries in one pouch, leaves in another, or maybe stuff for bellyache in one and stuff for infections in the one next to it.”

“Ooh, that! I’ll do that!” Fleathistle could hardly contain his joy, it was fizzing through his paws and he hardly resisted the urge to bounce on them. His heart swelled with warmth so strong that for a moment it threatened to overwhelm him. It wasn’t only a gift, but it was a symbol: the medicine cats–true medicine cats–were accepting Fleathistle as one of them, even though he never formally trained as one, much as he desired to. 

He reached out a paw, tempted by the soft moss wrapped between the vines. “Ahh!” Quick as a flash, he pulled his injured toe beneath his belly. Blinking at the collar in confusion, he noticed sharp thorns poking from the moss, almost entirely hidden. His heart fell. Had this been a trick? No, he told himself quickly. Shiverrose was his friend. She wouldn’t hurt him, and she certainly wouldn’t have put this all together for an easy thorn-in-the-paw joke.

“Myrtlewing Eye-Out’s idea,” Shiverrose explained. 

“It’ll hurt to wear!”

“I made sure it doesn’t,” Shiverrose promised. "The thorns only poke outward, and the leaves and moss block you from it. It’s only meant to harm anyone that might try to harm you.”

Fleathistle’s ear twitched at that idea. It had been a long time since Hornet–.....since someone tried harming Fleathistle. He didn’t like the thought that it might happen again, but he did appreciate the precaution. He wondered if it was only Myrtlewing’s idea, remembering the mischievous gleam in Fadingstar’s eyes when he watched Shiverrose lead his mate away. His heart swelled further.

“Put it on already!” Shiverrose picked the collar up and raised it over Fleathistle’s head. He flattened his ears so that the thorns wouldn’t catch on them. Sure enough, Shiverrose was right. He didn’t feel thorns poking at his skin at all, in fact, the collar was quite soft, pressing like a mother’s nest where it touched the back of his neck and hanging loosely-but-not-too-loosely by his throat. 

Shiverrose circled around him twice, then nodded in satisfaction. Grabbing the collar between her teeth, she lifted it back off of Fleathistle. “So that’s how you’ll put it on,” she told him. “I suggest putting the herbs in first.”

Fleathistle nodded, paws shifting with the effort to not race around in a frolick. “Thank you! Thanks! Thank you! Tell Myrtlewing I said thanks, too!”

“Ferntuft helped as well,” Shiverrose told him, “he helped gather the vines.”

“Thank you!” Fleathistle couldn’t think of anything else to say, he just had to express his gratitude for as long as he felt it–which may very well be forever.

“Do you want help filling it up?” Shiverrose offered with a twitch of amusement.

“Oh, yes!” Fleathistle replied, and just about took off back to his garden, the ferns only a distant thought in his mind now.

===========

@wills-woodland-warriors I was thinking about the Fleathistle thing your sent earlier...

Fleathistle belongs to Wills, Ferntuft belongs to @elementaldeityoffood

--One reason medical collars are used is because for many, herbs are very very rare to come by in the Dark Forest, especially ones 'healthy' enough to be useful. Fleathistle lives right by the huge garden of them so doesn't need the collar in the same sense that they do, but then again this is more about what the collar represents. Besides, the boy travels.

[wills-woodland-warriors]

The fadingflea family as incorrect quotes! @ambitiousauthor @residents-of-the-darkforest @liberhoe

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

I was thinking about how everyone goes to Alderstar, and honestly? As great as Alder is as a leader not including murdering his Clanmates, in comparison to the other leaders....

Tanglestar is a loner and prefers to stick with only those he likes. Became leader because he worked hard, not so much because he was good at politics

Fadingstar prefers the quite and loud sudden noises stress him out, so big meetings are a no. Also he never actually recieved his nine lives. +I imagine he just wants to chill.

Mantisstar lead his Clanmates in unnecessary battles where they died, so he’s not exactly a reliable leader when it comes to making decisions others depend on. Also he lives in The Sward, and no one goes there

Giantstar makes decisions in the spur of the moment. After his last caused his friend and deputy to die, I don’t imagine he’s eager to make another (but that’s also up to his creator, @sunshadesfrozensky )

Tigerstar (canon) is double-dead

Brokenstar (canon) is double-dead

Ripplestar (canon) lost all of his lives in battles he caused, so not exactly the smartest cat to go to

So while Alderstar is a good leader and is great at making decisions, he’s also kind of the only option.

Alderstar: “you know, as tiring as it can be, it’s nice everyone comes to me for advice and ceremonies. It makes me feel like the leader I once was. I like that they look up to me.”

Grousemane, who knows he’s the only one they have: “sure is”

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Bad Time (short story)

Emberdawn’s head swung in a desperate glimpse to catch who had clawed her, only to find no one. Growling in warning, she began to continue forward, only to crumble to the ground as another spasm of pain took over her. What was happening?

—------------------

Gorseheart leaped forward the second he heard the yowl. Zigzagging through the trees with the speed of a falcon, he was at Emberdawn’s side within a few heartbeats. He licked at her fur quickly before looking over her pelt. “What is it?” he asked urgently.

“I don’t know!” she gasped out. “My stomach feels like it’s been twisted inside out!” she let out a wail of pain. 

Gorseheart hopped from one foot to the other, unsure what to do. Emberdawn couldn’t be disappearing, they were both very much solid. Maybe…. He pushed the idea away, but seeing his mate writhe, her spine sweat, it only kept returning.

This couldn’t be happening. So long, he had prayed to one day become a father, but he already had kits to take care of now, and further than that, he didn’t want to have kits here, born in the Dark Forest, where they were weak and fragile and doomed to suffer forever. 

He took in Emberdawn’s trembling form as he curled around her, and wondered, heart sinking, if this process was more painful than anything a living mother would have to endure.

A twig snapped on Gorseheart’s side, and instantly he whirled his head around to hiss at it. Seeing Smalljump staring at them in shock, he snapped, “get Fadingstar, or Fleathistle! Any medicine cat you can find! Go!”

Smalljump did so quickly, hurrying away into the blackness. 

Emberdawn’s eyes squeezed shut, her wails of agony mixing with cries. Gorseheart pressed as close as he could without hurting her, grooming the space between her ears over and over. He prayed Smalljump would make it back soon.

=============================

--So the baby stuff got me thinking. 

--Emberdawn most likely got pregnant before they knew they could have kits again, but is giving birth after.

--To be continued!

[wills-woodland-warriors]

Fools Puddles | short story part three (final) 

FleaThistle woke up with half his body soaked and, the mud falling off of him in clumps. His body stung and ached, and he had a jolt of panic as he remembered. 

“RaspberryKit?” He called out, paws scrambling in the think water to stand up. 

“Papa!” The cry was cut off by a ‘shh’ sound, and FleaThistle’s looked up at the top of the pit where his kit was. 

HornetLeg was sitting behind him, his paw on the small kits tail. Scratches ran down RaspberryKit’s tiny body, his eyes blown wide in fear. 

“What are you doing here,” FleaThistle glared at his former mentor, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” At FleaThistle’s snarl, he shook his head and continued, “Tsk. I thought since you took my kit, id take yours.” 

Panic and anger ran through FleaThistle, and his claws were unsheathed in the water. He couldn’t get up the pit in time to reach HornetLeg before he hurt RaspberryKit. 

GremlinFrost had gone for help, and from the sound of bubbling puddles they couldn’t be that far from them. Someone would find them. 

“You left TawnyKit in a pit, she nearly drowned!”

“Mistakes happen,” HornetLeg groomed his ear, not a care in the world for the shaking kitten at his paws. 

“Mistakes? She’s your daughter. She’s three moons old, for stars sake. She couldn’t even swim,” he shook his head, baffled at the toms words. 

He rolled his eyes, digging his claws into the kits tail until he heard a yelp. 

FleaThistle bit his tongue, his whole body tense and ready to leap up at any point. He shifted, and was reminded of the injured leg that was tainting the water red. 

“Why are you doing this?” FleaThistle shook his head, voice more resigned. He couldn’t make HornetLeg mad. 

“Because you took everything from me. My reputation, my life, my kit,” HornetLeg hissed, eyes narrowed and cold. 

FleaThistle felt lightheaded, and planted his paws in the mud so he didn’t sway. “Are you kidding me. Are you kidding me,” he laughed awkwardly, strained. 

HornetLeg simply stared at him hatefully. 

“You hurt me so many times, you beat me regularly, you ruined my life and friendships. You made the clan hate me, and for what? So you could have an apprentice you didn’t have to train?” 

HornetLeg opened his mouth, but FleaThistle continued on. 

“So that you couldn’t have any responsibilities. You ruined my life, and you ruined TawnyKit’s as well. And I found a family, I found peace here. Now you want to hurt my kit?” 

He could hear his heart beat, and his blood felt hot as he stood up to his mentor for the first time. 

RaspberryKit blinked between the two, his ears pinned down and nose twitching in anxiety. His bottom lip was swollen, as if it had been scratched. 

FleaThistle heard paw steps, and voices carried away by the wind. HornetLeg heard them as well, stepping off of the kits tail and backing away as he gave a low and long hiss. 

FleaThistle couldn’t see what he was so afraid of, but he heard pawsteps and then FadingStar was leaping into the pit, splashing water everywhere as he slammed into him. 

“You’re okay!” He breathed a sigh of relief, burying his head in FleaThistle’s shoulder. His breath was warm against his skin, a stark contrast to his cold fur. 

FleaThistle smiled, licking his mates cheek. 

At the top of the pit, BrownMouse was grooming RaspberryKit and whispering gently to him. He nudged the kit, turning him away from the fighting behind him. 

FleaThistle heard hissing and spitting, and yowls as claws were raked through skin. He heard MyrtleWing and AlderStar arguing over who should kill him, and JackDaw snapping at them both to “stop their fox snouted whines” before he killed them both. 

FadingStar finally released him as the cries stopped, and stepped back as AlderStar appeared at the ledge, his golden-yellow legs stained with blood. 

FadingStar supported FleaThistle, pushing him up carefully so that he didn’t hurt his leg. AlderStar pulled him up by the scruff. 

RaspberryKit ran to his feet, asking if he was okay. He reassured him, licking at the messy fur. 

He was a little banged up, mostly with small scratches that would heal in a couple days. 

Lightheaded, FleaThistle sent small thanks to LilyDawn under his breath.  

Beside them, out of the kits view, he could see a glimpse of a mangled body, and of JackDaw stepping away from it, blood dripping from his muzzle. 

As he stepped back, a light weight draped across his shoulders as JackDawFoot pressed against his side, head resting on FleaThistle’s back, the fluff obscuring his vision in a half-hug. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” the tom said quietly, barely above a whisper. 

“Thanks, dad,” FleaThistle swayed on his feet, exhaustion setting in as he leaned against his family. 

His eyes drifted closed, blinking slowly as he watched RaspberryKit attempt to stand on BrownMouse’s head. 

______ 

I’m exhausted so I have no clue if this is even coherent but there’s a squirrel in my wall screaming at my cat for the past several hours and I tried lol 

BrownMouse, FleaThistle, LilyDawn and HornetLeg belong to myself. 

RaspberryKit  is co-owed by myself and the lovely @liberhoe, who owns FadingStar 

JackDawFoot, AlderStar and MyrtleWing belong to @residents-of-the-darkforest 

[wills-woodland-warriors]

Garden Day

FleaThistle huffed, shaking the seeds off of his paw pad and into the small hole he’d dug. 

He sat back, stretching out his shoulders and for a brief moment he tried to imagine that the sun was still here, that this was just another time building a garden after sneaking away from camp. 

Opening his eyes, the mangled shadowed branches above swayed slightly in the wind, with small wispy clouds covering one of the red moons. 

The dim light shun down on his garden, making the poppies look almost as if they were glowing. 

Convincing cats to let them pick through their fur to find stray seeds was quite a challenge, but with the help of some friends they ended up with a good pile of seeds. 

MottleCry was kind enough to help them gather organs, and he’d even convinced GoblinSnap and GremlinFrost to help! 

Even if the two were a bit concerning in the ways they got them.. 

Picking through his fur, he thought of all the people who had helped him with the garden.   

MouseSpots was another friend who helped out, along with BasilTooth and Ferndoe. 

As soon as FleaThistle found the small, speck-like poppy seeds he knew that he had to grow her some flowers. Depending on how many they can grow, she might even be able to give the newest residents some as welcoming gifts! 

It was kind of weird, being so excited while in hell. FleaThistle had expected to be killed again within the first few minutes, but most of the cats here were relatively nice. 

He’d been so scared, so anxious when he had arrived. Frozen in the spot, he had squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the pain. 

But none of them hurt him, and now he’s here. Building a garden with some amazing friends. 

Especially FadingStar. He was so cool. He listened and even took interest in his plants, and was the one to suggest starting a garden. 

The small sprouts struggled to grow in the damp and murky depths of the dark forest, but after some trial and error they had a bit of plant diversity, although they did have a lot of mushrooms… 

FleaThistle stretched, shaking the dirt from his pelt as he carefully stepped around the sprouts. 

MottleCry’s extra long claws were a huge help once he’d convinced the pale Tom, and he made small rows for them. 

FleaThistle crouched, leaping over a patch of moss with small spot-like white flowers in it, his paws slipping in the mud.

Sliding into a tree, he quietly tried to unpeel himself from the bark, looking up to a very confused FadingStar. 

“I left you for five minutes, what happened?” FadingStar said through a mouthful of rocks, the words muffled and distorted. 

“Trees.” FleaThistle blinked blankly, giving his chest fluff an awkward lick as he tried not to laugh. 

It was a pitiful attempt, broken by JackDawFoot rounding the corner with a pelt full of random leaves and twigs he’d gotten stuck in his fur while helping them. 

JackDaw looked at them blankly, with FleaThistle’s forearms still wrapped around the tree in an almost-embrace, and FadingStar trying to talk around a mouthful of rocks. 

FleaThistle tried to smile at JackDaw, but the absolutely massive Tom just shook his head slowly and walked over to help them as FadingStar choked on a pebble. 

FleaThistle gave a very happy little chirp as he properly detached from the tree, bouncing over to pick through JackDaw’s fluff for seeds.    

He dug through the soft, wispy grey-brown strands, tilting his head down so as not to have the fur tickle his muzzle, as he gently pawed through his fur, careful not to pull. 

They had found most of the seeds buried in JackDaws pelt so far, and in TurtleStepper’s herb pouch where he puts the dried herbs used for his asthma. 

Poking out of the fluff to look at the others, with them laughing and talking as if this were a normal day outside of camp, mingling between patrols, it was growing easy to feel at ease here. 

And maybe the dark forest wasn’t as bad as he thought. 

______ 

The garden is surrounded by pebbles that TurtleStepper collects

FernDoe spends a lot of time looking at the budding flowers. 

LoonFur has tried to pour blood on the seedlings in an attempt to “make them stronger” and FleaThistle didn’t have the heart to tell her no so he made a small patch for her to take care of a few small mushrooms, which are the hardiest ones he could find.

Jackdaw just walks by the garden once a day or so and just. Shakes a ton of seeds from his pelt. TurtleStepper has 100% had an asthma attack from this and been banned from getting too close to the garden 

While picking through jackdaws fur for seeds, FleaThistle just goes off about how pretty FadingStar is and jackdaw is just sitting there, fur over his eyes so he can’t even see, as a tiny ass sarcastic fleaball of a cat pokes his head out of his fur to talk about his crush.

FleaThistle keeps the first flower he ever grew in his nest

StumpPaw and FleaThistle have “gardening night” where once a week they teach everyone who’s interested how to properly care for a plant. 

Each cat gets there own sprout to take care of 

FadingStar belongs to @liberhoe 

MouseSpots belongs to @ambitiousauthor

JackDawFoot, FernDoe, BasilTooth, LoonFur, MottleCry belong to @residents-of-the-darkforest-of-the-darkforest 

FleaThistle, GoblinSnap, GremlinFrost belong to myself. 

[wills-woodland-warriors]

The Pit Tw: Drowning 

TawnyKit kicked at the dirt with her small white paw, huffing as she laid down on the flattened dirt. She could still feel the phantom touches of bugs crawling on her, and the scratches on her shoulder burned. 

Dada had said that they would heal. But it’s been who-knows-how long and they still dripped and stung. 

In a blink of an eye the sky flashed above and a loud crackle sounded through the darkened sky. 

It began to spit, washing mud off of her fur and causing her paws to sink. 

She curled up around her paws, head ducked under her paws to stay dry. 

 - 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Her lungs ached and her ears rang as she struggled against the surface, the water far above her head and causing her to have to swim desperately to stay afloat in the pit. 

Her paws scraped at the walls, trying to grab onto something, anything. 

She gasped for breath with every sip of the waves, and tried to hook her claws into the mud. It slipped out of her claws, dropping her down into the water and knocking her head against the ground as another boom of thunder sounded. 

She was going to die a second time. 

Her whole body burned with straining muscles and she felt bile rising in her throat as she screamed into the storm, begging for anyone to notice her. 

Maybe her dada was right, maybe she was meant to die out here.

A strike of lightning lit up the top of the pit, revealing a cats figure shadowed by the rain. 

For a brief moment she thought it was her father, and she wasn’t sure if she was meant to be terrified or relieved. 

Nonetheless, the strange cat pulled her out by the scruff, and for the first time in many moons she felt grass. 

Her joy was covered by a fit of coughs racking her chest, her fur so cold the white spots might as well have been LeafBare snow. 

The cat nudged her, and she flinched away in instinct. They picked her up, and as she hung limply in the strangers jaws, her head spun and she cried out for her family. 

 - 

She looked so much like HornetLeg. She was so small, and mud covered. Her already thin fur clung to her pelt leaving the ridges of her ribs exposed. 

LoonFur stood awkwardly at the entrance of the den, and FleaThistle gave her a warm look. 

“Thank you for leading me to her. If you hadn’t heard the cries and ran for help I think she would have died,” 

LoonFur gave him a quick smile, saying she was glad she could help, and ducked out of the den to head back to her own before the mud became too steep. 

FleaThistle leaned down and began to lick the kit clean, ignoring his own dirty fur. 

After he’d groomed her, he padded the moss around her small body to keep her warm. 

He ducked out of the den, blinking against the strong rain pouring into his eyes. It was  difficult to get to JackDaw and FernDoe’s den in the storm, his paws slipping and the muddy water going up to his shoulders at times. 

He glanced up at the trees when he heard a branch crack, and saw GremlinFrost’s small frame staring down at him. 

“FleaThistle? What are you doing out?” 

FleaThistle hauled himself onto a tree stump just out of the mud so that he could stand without sinking. 

“I need to talk to FadingStar,” He panted, blinking back tears as the mud stung the cuts on his torso. 

“In this storm? Head back home, I’ll get him for you,” the blue eyed tom shook his head, and his voice sounded far too old for his age. He was barely an apprentice, and FleaThistle’s heart ached, wondering if he was alone out here. 

 - 

She woke up in a small den, thin, twig like roots from a tree stump poking out of the walls and brushing her fur. 

TawnyKit whimpered, lifting her head as she pulled herself into a sitting position. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a small, brown-grey tom poked his head up, carrying a mouthful of leaves.  

TawnyKit blinked, tagging in the sight of cuts lacing down his fur, chunks of flesh held on with poultices and bandages. 

His ear was almost completely missing, more so a stump. Despite his injuries, somehow she felt calm. His eyes were warm. Kind. 

He looked  though, almost fearful. 

“Who are you?” She coughed, her voice hoarse.

“My name is FleaThistle! And.. and you are?” 

“TawnyKit,” she chirped, tucking her tail over her paws as she shivered, her fur still slightly damp. 

The tom—FleaThistle—nodded, placing a few leaves in front of her. They were a bit crunchy, but she ate them anyway. 

“Do you remember what happened?” He asked gently, sitting down in the nest next to her. 

At the back of the den, two small brown toms were curled up, snoring lightly. Their nest was decorated with pebbles and feathers, and FleaThistle gave them a warm look before turning back to her. 

“I remember drowning. And someone pulled me out,” she sniffed, her pelt prickling and ears flattening at the memory. 

“Well.. that was me. Do you know if your parents are here?” 

“My dad, HornetLeg. My clan said he was a bad cat,” 

FleaThistle froze, before shivering and leaning over to smooth his pelt down. He took a few deep breathes. 

“I’m sorry sweetie, but he’s not here anymore.” 

She nodded, pressing her paws into the moss bed to ground herself. 

“I can take care of you, if you’d like. My husband and I spoke about it and we’d be happy to,” His voice was soft, gentle. 

TawnyKit thought for a few moments, looking around the comfortable den, and into FleaThistle’s kind eyes. She’d be safe here. 

“I’d like that,” 

———

I’d love to know what anyone thinks of this! 

LoonFur, JackDawFoot, and FernDoe belong to @residents-of-the-darkforest 

FadingStar belongs to @liberhoe 

StumpPaw belongs to @ambitiousauthor 

HornetLeg, FleaThistle, TawnyKit, GremlinFrost are my characters