Internet articles say that bipolar people have problems in relashionships. You know what the problem is? You being a boundary crossing fucking cunt just because you underestimate me.
Sandstorm lowered her head at Frostfur, and nodded. Her heart twisted and ached at the memory of the silver tabby, how she laughed and cared for every cat as if they were her own kit.
“She’s with Elderkit and Tulipkit now,” Sandstorm said with a knotted throat.
“But what about Fernpaw and Ashpaw?” Frostfur mewed. “They need her now. More than ever, I imagine, now that she’s gone. They won’t know who to turn to, especially with ThunderClan in its...”
She hesitated for a long time.
“... current state.”
Sandstorm breathed in deep, and turned to look at the Highrock. Bluestar’s den lay dark and silent behind the sheets of lichen. “I’ll- I’ll speak to her,” Sandstorm mewed. “About what to do.”
“Does she even know Brindleface is dead?” Frostfur asked sharply, fur bristling slightly along her spine. “Does she know how she died? Does she even remember Swiftpaw?”
Sandstorm’s heart pulsed in her ears. “I don’t know,” she mewed. But I don’t think she knows Brindleface is dead.
It had been three seasons since Tigerstar betrayed their Clan by leading rogues to the heart of their territory. He’d nearly taken the leader’s life, but Sandstorm came to her den just in time to throw him out. The deputy had been exiled, but Bluestar never took a replacement Deputy. In fact, few cats had seen her out of her den.
There were rumors that she had died in there, and noone had noticed the stink because it was trapped behind the lichen. Sandstorm feared entering it.
“I’ll... see what I can do,” Sandstorm said finally when she realized how long it had been.
“Don’t forget to mention Goldenflower’s kittens,” Frostfur said as Sandstorm began walking away.
Sandstorm acknowledged her words, and padded along. As she walked the everlasting distance from Brindleface’s mourning family, she felt her heart clasp. My last parent, dead. Brindleface had never truly been a mother to her in the classic sense, but she carried the queen’s blood in her veins. Brindleface had acted as a surrogate for her fathers, Redtail and Runningwind. Redtail had been murdered at Tigerclaw’s fangs, Runningwind murdered on the Thunderpath, and now Brindleface.
Mauled by dogs.
She came to the entrance of the den. “Bluestar?” she called softly.
For a moment there was no reply. But then a shuffle, and a cough. Sandstorm invited herself in.
“Brindleface’s funeral just ended,” the molly mewed.
“Has she been buried?” the tired old queen mewed, looking to Sandstorm. Her eyes were watery and her mouth was dripping.
“Yes,” Sandstorm said. “Under the Owl Tree.”
“Why not leave it out?” Bluestar growled. “So the birds will get something of her.”
“What?” Sandstorm recoiled in shock. “Bluestar, we don’t treat our dead like crowfood. They deserve a Warrior’s burial, so they can travel to StarClan in peace.”
“Where is StarClan?” Bluestar growled, getting up on wobbly, disused legs. “Lead me to the border where we mark against StarClan invaders. Show me where StarClan’s camp is, and their leader’s place on the Great Rock,” she spat bitterly.
“Bluestar....” Sandstorm began.
But she was too slow in finding her words.
“StarClan is nothing,” The blue queen snarled passionately. “It doesn’t matter where our bodies go. In the ground, in twolegplace, in the belly of a fox. We end up the same way. Dung of some animal - fox, badger, crow, snake, worm...”
“Our Clanmates deserve to be treated with respect!” Sandstorm cried out. What had become of the wise, motherly leader she’d been born under?
“What respect have we left? StarClan has abandoned us. Perhaps StarClan tricked us into thinking they existed at all.”
“Bluestar, you can’t say that,” Sandstorm mewled. “You dreamt. You gained nine lives, and lost them. We all saw you.”
“Perhaps I lost consciousness,” Bluestar hissed sourly. “Maybe I was having a mad dream that I whisked up into wishful thinking.”
“If you speak like this, StarClan won’t allow you in their territory,” Sandstorm warned.
“Why would I want to go with them?” Bluestar growled. “They took everything from me. My mother, my sister, my kit- kits.... my chances at being happy, having a mate and settling down. They lied to me. They delivered a prophecy that never came true! Fire will save the Clan. Ptah!” she spat. “All fire ever did was kill our medicine cat and one of our beloved elders.”
Sandstorm drooped and sat down on her haunches.
Better to change the subject, she decided.
“Bramblekit and Tawnykit are overdue to be apprentices,” She said softly.
“Oh. The traitor’s spawn,” Bluestar growled.
“It’s been three seasons since Tigerstar set foot on ThunderClan territory! You’ve had Goldenflower blocked up in the nursery for three moons, and every day her kits grow bigger and bigger.”
“Traitors,” Bluestar snarled. “All of them. If I let them out of this Camp for one second they’ll be gallivanting across the Thunderpath and plotting to kill me.”
Why wouldn’t they, if they saw your state? Sandstorm caught herself thinking, and flinched in shock at herself.
“It was this kind of thinking that got Swiftpaw killed,” Sandstorm mewed. “He wasn’t Tigerstar’s kin at all. And poor Brightpaw... Lostface, I mean.” The name sent a vile wave up her throat that she forced back down. “Neither of them did anything, yet you’re punishing everyone...”
“ThunderClan deserves to be punished,” Bluestar growled, “According to StarClan. Maybe ThunderClan is doomed to fall.” The old queen slumped back into her nest.
“ThunderClan is not doomed to fall!” Sandstorm barked, getting back up on her paws in a frenzy. “ThunderClan has survived just as long as all the others. We’re the strongest and the most diplomatic, and we have the best territory. Our Warrior Ancestors have protected us for this long...”
“Did they protect against the dogs?” Bluestar shrilled, whipping out of her nest and coming nose-to-nose with the warrior. “If I send out Sootkit right now, to Snakerocks, will he return alive?”
“Of course not,” Sandstorm growled.
“Then are they not punishing him for my mistake?” Bluestar growled. “If I send a kit into battle and their throat is cut, they are punishing the kit for its leader’s error. StarClan’s ways are flawed, Sandstorm. Can’t you see that?”
The queen began hobbling for the entrance. Sandstorm stopped her with a paw to the tail.
“Where are you going?” the tabby asked.
“Leaving,” Bluestar growled. “If I return alive, I will appoint a Deputy. If not, ThunderClan falls by Moonhigh.”
She ripped her tail out from under Sandstorm’s claws and raced out of the den, galloping into the fern tunnel and disapearing.
Sandstorm could only watch, slack-jawed, wondering what happened. She turned an ear at the patter of Sootkit’s paws.
