#fallenkit

[sadly-unfortunate]

💛

[whispers-of-the-stars]

A small preview while i figure out how to access my clangen files and finish drawing the opening comic

[pillarclan]

Moon 1 New Leaf, part 3.

Soft, silky dirt, wrinkled stones ripe for climbing, plenty of tunnels to hide in... And no other cat in sight.

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[whispers-of-the-stars]

Something Terrible has happened pt1

[whispers-of-the-stars]

[whispers-of-the-stars]

Somewhere in the mountains, a lone survivor and his adopted daughter find a new place to call home in a cave full of whispers...

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

@ambitiousauthor

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo just had a thought

Brokenwhistle is the outcast of the family. Many crimes are accepted, but turning on the family--kit kin especially, is immediate cause to disown.

And another family member outcast? Pipitfeather.

Maybe Pipitfeather tried to get Broken to join his plans. Broken refused, and went to the Eye-Out family. That's why they were able to save Fallenkit and Waspkit when they did.

It may have been enough to give Broken another chance. He lives mostly on the outskirts of the Wooden Teeth. Redjay visits him almost daily (kinda funny, since Redjay caused him so much mental trauma)

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Confusing Lack of Feelings (short story)

Fallenkit tried not to make her discomfort obvious, but her whole body was tense, ready to spring at a moment’s notice despite the fact that she knew–she knew–that she was safe in her dad’s embrace. She wasn’t discreet enough. 

Myrtlewing paused his grooming. “What’s wrong?” he asked, because he always has to ask when he notices someone of the Eye-Out Thorns is unhappy. Why does someone like him care? 

Pipitfeather died just over two moons ago. Myrtlewing hadn’t so much as shed a tear.

“Nothing,” she mumbled back.

“You lie as well as your father,” Myrtlewing told her gently. Too gently. “Would you mind not making me pry like he does before he admits that something is bothering him?”

Fallenkit sighed. Sitting up, she turned to face him, his paws still stretched out on either side of her. Her voice was scratchy as she spoke. “Was he really your son?” They had looked similar enough.

Myrtlewing’s eyes remained blank. “In the blood sense, yes, he was. I didn’t know he even existed until he arrived here as an adult, however.”

“Does that make a difference?”

Myrtlewing shrugged. “It does for me.”

“Would you not care if you met me as an adult?”

Myrtlewing’s eyes widened only a fraction as he realized his mistake. “I don’t know,” he answered. “But I would like to get to know you. And I love you the way you are now, adult you would be the same, only with more great traits for me to love.”

Fallenkit wished that what he was saying was helpful. She knew that it was kind, endearing, but she also knew her dad was a wonderful liar, and that everything he was saying could be utter dung. “Do you not love blood?” She still didn’t understand why she was so different, why Myrtlewing was so furious about seeing her hurt at the same time he stared at Pipitfeather’s decaying, dying form without a twitching whisker.

“I don’t think blood is everything,” Myrtlewing answered. “I didn’t love Pipitfeather, he never bothered talking to me. I did respect him, because if he is my kin then he is good, until he attacked you. There was nothing for me to love or respect then.”

Fallenkit wished that she could shake her head and have all the jumbled thoughts she had spill out of her ears, so that her dad’s words could fill the space and make sense. She knew it should, she knew it sounded reasonable, and she knew that her mind was so overfilled with confusion that more words only added to the collection instead of dispersing it.

She wasn’t even sure if her dad’s lack of emotion was what bothered her the most. It was her own.

She had been comforting by many healers–Myrtlewing, Fleathistle, Shiverrose, even Pumpkinpatch who also hates her father, every one of her kin from great ancestors to siblings, and her aunt Ferndoe. They had all said the same thing, that they understood she was hurt and confused, that it was okay to cry.

The problem was that Fallenkit only felt the confusion in addition to anger. She was angry at Pipitfeather and all those cats, most dead again now, for tricking her, for earning her trust and shattering it so that she looked like a fool. She was angry because they had hurt her and Waspkit for revenge they had nothing to do with. She was confused because that is the only thing she felt, and she was confused because Myrtlewing seemed to feel nothing, besides his concern for her.

Waspkit was still having nightmares. He still didn’t like talking about what had happened.

Fallenkit only had bad dreams for a few nights before they went away, and her reaction when she woke up was no where near as intense as Waspkit’s wailing. He cried about being attacked and witnessing Pipitfeather’s horrible death. 

Fallenkit didn’t think seeing it had been a huge deal until others started to say that it was.

What was wrong with her?

Her dad was the same. She knew that much, they were open about it, how he had trouble feeling things unless it was for those he already cared deeply for–that itself also confused her. How could you care deeply for someone and care nothing for another? How do you begin to care deeply for someone if you feel nothing for them to begin with?

Was it really a blood issue? Did she get it from him, or because he raised her?

If she talked to someone else in her blood, someone not on his side and who felt things, who was normal, perhaps she could be normal then, too.

She had been silent for a while in her thoughts, so Myrtlewing had resumed his grooming. After a while longer, he began to doze off. His chin rested on her back. Carefully, she slipped out and began moving through the thorns to the outside. She was almost there when behind her, someone spoke.

“Where are you going?” Wolfpool asked. He and his siblings, as well as their parents–everyone in the family, in fact–had temporarily moved back to the main den after the kits had been attacked. Fallenkit should be grateful for it. Yet she felt nothing.

Of course she should have known that they would be extra ditiligent. There were multiple guards keeping watch on each side. Fallenkit wasn’t allowed to leave without an adult. 

Wolfpool was an adult.

Debating on a lie, she decided to tell the truth. Wolfpool looked at her, then looked around them. “Okay,” he said more hushed, “duck under my belly so they won’t see you.”

Fallenkit did was told. It was difficult to manuver around the remaining branches that blocked their path, and to move as fast as her nephew while mud sucked all along her legs. She stayed hidden while Wolfpool asked anyone who passed them for directions, until at last they stopped at a large rock. It was tilted, leaning heavily against another, with vines draping down the entrance.

“Hello?” Wolfpool called.

A young, black tom with orange and bright flecks stepped out. He raised a brow. “Uh, yes?”

“Is Tanglestar here?” Fallenkit asked, stepping out.

The tom blinked at her. He turned to face the entrance. “Tanglestar! You have–uhm–visitors?”

There was shuffling, and a mumbling response, then a sleepy black tom with bigger orange and white splotches stepped out into the red light. When his eyes met Fallenkit’s, they stretched wide.

Fallenkit held his gaze firmly. “Are you my other dad?”

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--Fallen calls Alder “father,” Myrtle “dad,” and Grouse “papa.”

--The Pipitfeather thing happened 2+1/2 moons ago. Fallen and Wasp are about 3+1/3 moons old, roughly.

Fallen is a ‘wise beyond her years’ kit while Wasp is a sweet baby.

--Remember how I said that Fallen feel nothing like Myrtle does, but questions it? Here we are!

--Taglist: @ambitiousauthor @wills-woodland-warriors @umbranoxs @starfalcon555 @liberhoe @elementaldeityoffood (if you weren’t tagged it’s most likely because Tumblr doesn’t tag some usernames for some reason, not because I forgot or don’t care!)