Raisel shakes his head, once, twice, and a third time. and yet the outline of a cat is still there. Heart pounding, he started running towards the cat.
The sand and sharp gravel beneath him cut into his paws, and he dodged around the sharp straggly “trees” growing out of the ground.
The cat was still there, and he ran as fast as he could. Their back was facing him, and Raisel skidded to a stop. The sand beneath him and momentum he’d been building, however, did not help him and before he knew it he barrelled into the cat, slamming into them and knocking both of them to the ground with a hiss.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Bouncefur
"Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit." Bouncefur had stopped dead in their tracks as they squinted at a familiar looking shape. Another cat. A real one this time. They bounded over quickly, skidding to a stop as they noticed a few more shapes, one of which had barreled into the original shape. Oh crap, maybe they were in over their head. Was this a gang? Were there gangs in this place? The ginger tabby was hesitant, but started sneaking closer to see.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Laureldawn
Laureldawn plopped down and sighed, rolling her eyes at the newcomer’s enthusiasm. “Keep your fur on. I won’t kill you. The others might, but I probably won’t.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Flashcry
Flashcry stumbles through the broken and rotted trees, finally having seen the shadow of another cat. He hardly dares to hope that this one is real, after so long of no interaction.
But it is real this time, and his unsteady paws carry him in a trance to see exactly who he's meeting.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Sandhowl
Sandhowl flicked her ears. Was that a startled yowl she heard in the distance? Beyond that, voices? She doubted it was anything other than her mind, or the land playing tricks on her, or even hope driving her to hallucinate, but what was there to lose in investigating? Taking a breath, she padded in the direction she was sure the noise had come from.
The crowd applauded the conclusion of the story with cheers and yelled compliments to the actors, who bowed their heads to each kind word. Mistface did not speak, but he nodded in approval and slowly slid down from his branch to the trunk of the tree, clambering to the ground with less grace than he would have liked. Greyleaf, Littlepaw and Laurelclaw followed after him, each of them struggling a little to land without stumbling. That was a small comfort.
Littlepaw’s tail jumped about in a muffled sort of delight and her fur was fluffed out in excitement. Her eyes were on the Margays, who were talking with members of the dissipating crowd that had chosen to linger and offer personal words.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Laurelclaw said to her, grinning. “Good spot, too, right?”
Littlepaw nodded and looked at him. “Thank you for helping me up. I’m not used to climbing.”
“Oh, me neither.” Laurelclaw did one of those sorry-sounding laughs again, like he had to apologize for laughing at all. “I mean, cliffs, sometimes, but not trees. Anyway-“ He looked at Mistface and Greyleaf. “Did you like it? I thought they did a great job. I love hearing about Mona’s halo shards. They’re so mystical!”
“Yeah, real mysterious,” Mistface said, tilting his head back slowly towards the Magpie’s circle. “’Specially considerin’ they’re sellin’ supposed shards right over there.”
“Oh, lucky!” Laurelclaw perked up even more than he already had and looked over Mistface’s head (not a difficult task for him) to the collection of white stones. “I should see if I can bring one home. My father would love one.”
“Not a bad idea,” Mistface said, and made a silent note to himself to get one for Nettlecloud. He added, “Well, real nice talkin’ with you.” To his surprise, he almost entirely meant it.
“Oh, for sure!” Laurelclaw turned back to him and nodded. “It was nice to meet you, Mistface. You and your brother, though I didn’t get to talk to him much. See you around, maybe!”
“Maybe so.” Mistface waved his tail and watched the massive tom trot off towards the Magpies, occasionally jumping out of someone’s way as if he was a tiny kit needing to avoid being squashed.
“Funny,” Mistface said aloud, and looked sideways towards the Margays’ members. They were finishing up with the last of the audience as Littlepaw trotted up, weaving around leaving cats with the grace and certainty Laurelclaw should have had.
“Excuse me,” she said to the white molly who had played the Runagate, and with much more enthusiasm than she had shown with her mother, “but I was amazed at the voice you used during the story! It was perfect for the role and really eerie.”
The molly purred and spoke in a voice not too different from the one she had used in the show, only lighter and smoother. “I’m glad you liked it. I practiced it on my crew when they were trying to sleep. They hated it.”
Littlepaw looked like she was laughing, but it was too quiet to tell for sure, combined with the noise of the crowd overwhelming it. She said much more clearly, “Do you practice the part a lot?”
“Tens of times before each act,” the molly said. “Even when we’re walking to our next temp-den, we preform as we move.”
Littlepaw’s eyes shined. “That’s a lot of dedication.”
“It’s worth it.” The molly nodded with satisfaction. “And I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”
Mistface was mildly impressed. Littlepaw was much more so, which was obvious from the awe on her face. She opened her mouth to presumably ask another question, but that pretentious voice called out, “Littlepaw, where are you?”
Littlepaw immediately deflated, down to the fur on her tail drooping and touching the ground. She looked back to her approaching mother.
“There,” Morningsky said, and looked at the white molly as one would regard an oversized bug that had been almost entirely squashed but was still feebly kicking its legs. “That was…very well-acted. Very theatrical story.”
It could not have been plainer that she didn’t hold the acting or the story in any regard below rock-bottom. Littlepaw’s face was immediately washed over with embarrassment again. She looked at the ground in shame.
To her credit, the white molly’s offense was well-hidden – Mistface could only see it because he was watching her profile, and her tail tapped the ground testily straight behind her. “I’m glad you liked it.”
She looked down at Littlepaw, but before she could say anything, Morningsky turned and curled her tail around her daughter, guiding her away from the Margays’ circle with a half-hearted farewell. She had a pinched look of scorn about her face.
“Come along,” she said. “There’s a few seer apprentices here that you should meet.”
Mistface didn’t like most cats, but he had a new, special animosity towards this queen bee. Littlepaw passed by him and nodded morosely before following along after her mother. Mistface was tempted to offer some words of kindness, such as “your mother is a shrew”. He doubted she would disagree.
He turned to mention his thoughts to his brother, but Greyleaf was gone. Mistface blinked and looked around. He was nowhere in the sea of cats, and since they were all constantly moving around, Mistface had to sit up on his hind legs to get a better view.
Nothing. Mistface frowned.
He stood up properly and started for the tree they had all sat in. He knew tracking his brother with scent would be impossible in an area with so many other cats, and he did not want to start yelling Greyleaf’s name. It would cause too much attention to shine on him, which Mistface knew would stress him out. A higher position and a silent approach would work best.
Mistface was glad no one was looking at him, because his scramble up the trunk was, he knew, quite clumsy and comical to watch. He got just high enough to hit where the oak’s trunk split into many branches and scanned the grove for his brother.
Sure enough, he caught sight of Greyleaf within a few moments… but Mistface frowned again, confused. His brother wasn’t walking around looking for him, or huddled on the side of the crowd awkwardly, or even speaking with the loudly laughing Sealstar over there in the sun.
He was in the shade of the thickest part of the grove, where everyone had meandered away from to lounge in the light. He stood unusually straight and stiff, ears alert, mouth thin and still instead of twitching nervously as it sometimes did. In fact, every part of his body was motionless. Mistface couldn’t quite catch the expression in his eyes from this distance, but the rest of his posture was focused and serious.
Across from him was a rather striking molly – she was tall and fairly muscled, red-brown and roan-shaded, with a darker back and paler underside and neck. She almost loomed over Greyleaf, but at the same time her posture allowed for deference (though not much). Her mouth was moving very fast and her ears were slicked back, her tail straight out and not budging an inch. Her bright orange eyes were wide, but, like with Greyleaf, Mistface couldn’t see specifically what she was saying with them.
Curious, Mistface skidded down the tree again and started for the pair, moving as quietly and quickly as he could. The many cats around him made it difficult to go in a straight line, but he managed to get to the edge of the cluster.
He paused. The molly was leaning forward now, and he could see that her eyes were wild with an intense mix of emotions. Her voice was still inaudible, and, unfortunately, Mistface had never learned how to read lips. He stood still, waiting for his brother’s reaction as the molly stopped talking.
Greyleaf didn’t do anything for a moment. His face was just as intense now, but, for once, Mistface couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He slowly shut his eyes, took in a deep breath, and said something to the molly. His eyes flickered away for just a moment and they caught sight of Mistface.
“I better go,” he said, loud enough for Mistface to hear. “My brother’s…”
At once, the molly’s posture straightened and her face calmed. She looked like an entirely different cat in an instant...but Mistface wondered why her eyes were suddenly so exhausted.
“Consider it,” she said, her voice low and yet ringing clear. “Just consider it.”
Without glancing at Mistface, she turned sharply and walked away, each step regal, yet with a patroller’s directness. Mistface watched her move towards a small group of cats, who looked up as she approached and greeted her cheerfully.
Greyleaf stared after her, too, and his face was still unreadable. Slowly, his eyes drifted down to the ground ahead of him, eyelids slightly lowered. He said nothing as Mistface walked up to him; didn’t even look over or twitch his ear.
Mistface felt a sudden need to break the tension, so he gently nudged Greyleaf with a smile. “You didn’t tell me you had a girl, my brother.”
Greyleaf jolted and the tension left his body. He blinked stupidly at Mistface. “Huh? I d- what?”
Mistface jerked his head at the molly, who was now leaving the grove with that small group. “Who was that chickadee you were talkin’ to?”
“Th-“ Greyleaf followed his line of sight and jolted again. “Oh- no, she-“ He inhaled sharply. “She’s a deputy, that’s all. She was, uh- she was asking some advice about healing. Wanted to see if I was, uh, interested in helping out in her area.”
“Hm.” Mistface looked at his brother slyly. “You sound real certain about that.”
“It was just an offer, is all,” Greyleaf said uncomfortably. “She needed help.”
Mistface knew something was off, but he didn’t want to make his brother more uneasy, so he simply replied, “Don’t you take that job. You’ve got it good where you are.”
“Yeah.” Greyleaf sighed and nodded with an incredible lack of enthusiasm. “Yeah, I do.”
“Now, come along.” Mistface turned around and tapped him with his tail. “I wanna get one of those rocks for Mama.”
He started off, not sure how to feel that Greyleaf took a long moment to follow after him.
The group was discouraged when no one seemed to know of a way out of the barren land–or even if there was a place out at all. But the fact that they were now surrounded by other cats sparked hope that none of them had held for a long time.
When no one could answer her question, Sandhowl went on. “I’m clearly dead.” She spared a glance at the foam curling over her bottom lip. “Would I be wrong to assume that this is the Dark Forest?”
Flashcry sighed, letting his shoulders fall. He tried not to think about the deep scars carved into his belly and legs, or how they had been bleeding a trail behind him for as long as he had been there. Which was…Stars, he had no idea how much time had passed. But one thing was for certain: he was well and truly dead.
“That is where we appear to be,” he muttered. “Thought it’d be a bit more of a forest.”
Raisel opened his jaws. “Well, there’s a considerable lack of a forest,” he commented, words overlapping with Flashcry’s observation, though the other tom didn’t seem to mind the interruption. “I should bring that up with someone when we get out of here.” He tilted his head, licking his bloodied paw. “Eh, it’s better than StarClan. I could do without the sand though, but sacrifices have to be made, I assume.”
He plopped down in front of the white cat, rolling onto his back with his paws in the air, the drying wet-red sand falling off of them in clumps. What a day….or was it a week?
When Sandhowl proposed the question, Bouncefur had flinched with such intensity, it almost had them leaping off of the ground. They blinked hard for several heartbeats, unable to believe the possibility. It was only worse that every other cat seemed to agree that that…place...was really where they were.
“The Dark Forest?” they gasped, finally able to speak. “But I didn’t do anything wrong!” Their tail swished in a panic. “This has to be a mistake. A bad dream, right?....Though it’d be an awful long dream….” They eventually sank down on the rough gravel, putting their chin on their paws as they thought. Eventually, the ginger cat looked up with a furrow of their brow. “Why are you fellows here then? I thought we were ‘sposta wander around the Dark Forest alone forever or somethin’ like that.”
Laureldawn carefully resisted the urge to smack the ginger she-cat. “I did what I had to do,” she muttered, almost a growl.
Bouncefur was completely oblivious to the she-cat’s urge, and shook their head. “I mean like, why are we all together if we’re ‘sposta be wandering alone ‘n stuff.” They rested their head back down, humming in thought. “Unless this really is just a really, really long dream and I’m gonna wake back up to see my family again. I mean, one time I had a really long dream where I was a kit again and grew up to be an elder all in one dream! It felt really real too.”
Sandhowl couldn’t stop herself from staring at the ginger cat, a slithering horror crawling up her skin. The cat’s words, their mannerisms, it was reminiscent of someone she had known in life–someone she would rather forget, but who had haunted her dreams since the beginning. She considered their words. Maybe she really was trapped in a dream. Or a nightmare, surrounded by cats that resembled her victims but different enough to give her false hope.
She pushed the thoughts and memories away and took in the cats around her. Did it really matter all that much if they weren’t real? What harm does indulging do? Then, as she looked, she noticed something strange in their eyes.
“Are my eyes pink like yours?”
“‘Pink’?” Bouncefur repeated, tilting their head in response to the rather unexpected question. They stretched their neck toward the sandy she-cat to get a better look, not noticing as Sandhowl leaned away from her. “Uuuuuuuh, yeah, sorta.” They pulled their neck back. “Wonder what that means…” The ginger cat hummed in thought again, before springing up, opening their mouth to speak before swiftly closing it again. The thought had been lost.
Meanwhile, Raisel tilted his head to the side, examining the cats around him. Their eyes were varying shades of pinks. “I’m assuming it’s unlikely we all got hit in the face with a branch, so it has to mean something. There’s definitely something more to this place,” he went on, “when I was trai…” he trailed off, correcting himself. “...listening to the stories, there were always trees and monsters. So how do we find them?”
“‘Monsters’?” Sandhowl repeated, alarmed. Were there Thunderpaths here, and she didn’t know it? Or…she shivered…did those great beasts travel wherever they wanted here, round black paws crushing anything in their path.
Raisel nodded before realizing most of these cats around him were most likely from Clans. Well, that’s awkward. “Er, no…well, maybe? I actually don’t know if those kinds would be here. Do you think Twolegs go to the Dark Forest?” He glanced behind him, now picturing hoards of Twolegs grabbing at them with their bony, furless long paws. He shivered before continuing. “The stories my group would tell were more so of cats so thin, they were just skeletons, wandering the forest and ready to leap at you. They were said to be so old that your paws would crunch through their bones, but that they’d swarm in hoards, kinda like ghosts. And they were here to torment the cats sent to the Dark Forest.”
Fearful murmuring broke out among the group.
Laureldawn sighed a very heavy sigh, tired of these guessing games and kit-tales. “The pink means murderer," she told them all.
=============
There are more responses beyond this seen on Prompt 4, but I figured this was a good place to pause for the story.
The land was a maze, nothing like any of the inhabitants wandering it had seen or experienced before. Grey-ish sand stretched endlessly in all directions. There was no grass to sooth paw pads and no moss to make beddings, only sandy and grey rocks that lay clustered or spread in random patterns on the ground. There was no shelter either. The only trees present were long and thin blackened trunks with no branches or leaves, yet they creaked as if they had thousands of outstretched limbs caught in a storm.
Despite the horizon being clear of obstacles, no cat could see the way out. It was only the trees, the sand, and the rocks.
Some of them had freshly arrived, others had been wandering for moons, even possibly years. In all that time, none of them had seen another cat’s face, only glimpses of shadows too far away to notice or too quick to disappear for anyone to realize what it was that they had seen–or to believe that it had been real.
But one day, five lost souls converged in the direction of the largest spindly tree, either hoping to climb it and spot a way out, to give themself a goal to work towards, or by utter luck, and the lone cats would not meet one face for the first time in a long one, but four.
First it was glimpses that they, at this point, began to tell themselves were simple tricks of the mind or land. But the closer they grew, the more solid those figures became.
~~~~
Flashcry stumbled through the broken and rotted trees, finally having seen the shadow of another cat. He hardly dared to hope that this one is real, after so long of no interaction. But it is real this time, and his unsteady paws carry him in a trance to see exactly who he's meeting. Are they hostile? Are they dangerous? He can hardly bring himself to care, so long as he can see another face.
~
Raisel shook his head, once, twice, and a third time. and yet the outline of a cat was still there. Heart pounding, he started running towards the shape.The sand and sharp gravel beneath him cut into his paws, and he dodged around the sharp scraggly “trees” growing out of the ground. The cat was still there–not a trick, not yet–and he ran as fast as he could, never taking his eyes off of the figure, too afraid that it would disappear the moment he looked away. Their back was facing him, and Raisel skidded to a stop. The sand beneath him and momentum he’d been building, however, did not help him and before he knew it he barrelled into the cat, slamming into them and knocking both of them to the ground with a hiss.
~
Meanwhile, Bouncefur, a ginger cat, had stopped dead in their tracks as they squinted at a familiar looking shape. “Oh StarClan, oh StarClan, oh StarClan,” they breathed repeatedly, unable to do or think of anything else for several more heartbeats.
Another cat. A real one this time.
They bounded over quickly, skidding to a stop as they noticed a few more shapes, one of which had barreled into the original shape. Oh crap, maybe they were in over their head. Was this a gang? Were there gangs in this place? The ginger tabby was hesitant, but started sneaking closer to see.
~
Sandhowl flicked her ears. Was that a startled yowl she heard in the distance? Beyond that, voices? She doubted it was anything other than her mind, or the land playing tricks on her, or even hope driving her to hallucinate, but what was there to lose in investigating? Taking a breath, she padded in the direction she was sure the noise had come from.
~
To say that Flashcry was startled was beyond an understatement. He had not so much as glimpsed the hair of another cat in as long as he had been in this awful place, and in one instance a body had barreled into him, sending him to the ground with the air run out of him. He hissed against the weight of the body above him and it hissed as well, clearly pained, before scrambling back.
Flashcry stared, eyes wide, at the ‘attacker,’ then back at the figure that had held his attention. It moved closer now, near enough for him to see that it was a black cat with light blue eyes.
The black cat looked at the both of them, clearly just as surprised to see another living creature, then her gaze flicked up, behind either tom.
Flashcry followed it, and was surprised even further to see yet another cat staring at them. Their ginger fur was lifted slightly, and their eyes seemed wary and uncertain.
The black cat, Laureldawn, plopped down and sighed, rolling her eyes at the newcomer’s alarm. “Keep your fur on. I won’t kill you. The others might, but I probably won’t.”
Flashcry’s ears pricked at the sound of another voice. For a few heartbeats, he said nothing, only drank in it like it was cold water in the middle of a drought.
Then his attention shifted to the fluffy ginger cat that seemed to tense up at any interaction. Maybe they were just as unfamiliar with the sound and sight of other cats as he was. Curious, he padded up to them, trying his best to seem nonthreatening. "What's your name?" He asked, titling his head and ignoring how strange it was to hear himself speak.
Bouncefire opened their mouth, dry from a lack of use, to respond, but cut themself off when yet another cat, pale as the ground, neared the group cautiously.
“Well,” they said, eyes blinking, “this is unexpected. I don’t suppose any of you know the way out of here?”
===============
Sometimes interactions aren't too-too clear, but I think+hope I did well in writing it down as a story.
To make it clear:
Flashcry saw Laureldawn and his attention was on her, and that's why his back was to Raisel.
Raisel saw Flashcry first and ran to him, and their moment of impact was witnessed by both Laureldawn and Bouncefire (who I'm guessing saw Flashcry first as well, given that he is noted to be the 'original shape'), and heard by Sandhowl.
Let me know if you think anything should be different!
The story’s narrator, a cinnamon tortoiseshell, began to tell the tale as a ginger-and-white tom stepped into the audience’s view. Littlepaw noticed from her spot in the tree that the tom was headed towards a white rock glittering in the grass.
“Long ago, there was a warrior, Neriumpelt, who stumbled across a shard of Mona’s rocky halo. This shard was one of the many lost in a past incident that now remain scattered across Clan territory. However,” the storyteller gave a small pause for dramatic effect,”someone else had their eyes set on this shard as well.”
A lanky white molly with eerie, pale yellow eyes walked towards the tom and began to speak in a mysterious, subtly unsettling tone. “Greetings, young warrior. I am the Runagate, and I wish to make a deal with you.”
A delightful shiver ran down Littlepaw’s spine as she heard the cat’s name. The Runagate was a character that appeared every now and then as an antagonist in stories, so she already knew that this deal would be trouble.
Neriumpelt seemed to have some doubts as well. “The Runagate? I don’t think I should make a deal with you. I’ve heard in tales that you’re an evil spirit.” He stepped backwards slightly, away from the Runagate.
The Runagate flicked their tail dismissively. “Nonsense,” the spirit replied, practically hissing the s’s in the word like a snake. “All I want is to make you an offer that would help both of us.”
The tom still looked uncertain, but asked,”What is your offer?”
“I can help guide you in a path to leadership. You do wish to make changes for the good of the Clan, yes?” Neriumpelt gave a small, hesitant nod at the Runagate’s words. “All I need from you is this shard that you’ve found.”
Littlepaw silently hoped for the cat to know better than to take this deal, but was familiar enough with stories to know what’s coming next.
After some consideration, Neriumpelt answered,”...Alright. I accept your deal. As rare as this is, I don’t have much of a use for it. Besides, I’d be a fool to turn down something like that.” He pushed the shard towards the Runagate, who was grinning wide like a fox.
“Glad we could come to an agreement,” the Runagate purred, taking the shard. “I’ll see you soon to fulfill my end of the bargain.”
With that, the Runagate strolled off with the shard. The evil spirit didn’t really walk far, staying in view of the audience, but was enough of a distance away to indicate no longer being a part of the scene.
The storyteller spoke up again, with a loud, clear voice,”The Runagate leaves, having a terrible plot for the shard in their possession. Fortunately, however, there is someone on the side of good on the lookout for shards of Mona’s halo. It is none other than the moon aspect’s protege herself, Aileron, aspect of the wind! She flies with her dragonfly wings, a tailwind she summoned ruffling her shiny black and blue fur. Gracefully, Aileron lands in front of Neriumpelt.”
A short black tom leaped onto the scene, taking on the role of Aileron.
Aileron looked at Neriumpelt with a serious expression on her face. Her tail swished with anger, but only slightly, since she was the type to mostly maintain control over her emotions. “I saw you give the shard of Mona’s halo to the Runagate,” Aileron stated with an authoritative tone. “Which way did that evil spirit go?”
“I- if I tell you, I won’t become a leader, and w-what’s the Runagate gonna do with a shard, anyhow-” Neriumpelt stumbled over his words, and shuffled his paws nervously.
Aileron glared at the tom, who didn’t meet her gaze. “The Runagate shall use up the shard’s power to summon a primal beast, which is able to destroy anything you could become leader of. I cannot delay in my search.”
A breeze picked up in the grove. Even though it was just a coincidence, Littlepaw imagined it to be part of Aileron’s wrath.
“I…” Neriumpelt looked at the aspect of wind with a shocked expression. “...that way.” He turns to indicate the direction.
“There’s a reason tales are spoken of the Runagate’s untrustworthiness.” With those parting words, Aileron headed towards the Runagate.
With that, the narration continued. “As Aileron rushes forth, she confronts the Runagate. Seeing the shard near the evil spirit, she blows it away.” The actress playing the part of the Runagate kicked the rock in such a way where it appeared to most onlookers like this imaginary wind really was doing the work.
With a sneer, the Runagate gloated,”It’s too late, Aileron. Can’t you sense it? I’ve already used that piece of your precious mentor’s halo to summon a primal beast. It’s only a matter of time until it appears.”
The wind aspect stepped forward, undeterred. “In that case, it’s a good thing I’ve hunted many primal beasts in the past.”
A large tortoiseshell stepped into the fray as the storyteller described the creature. “The primal beast materializes. It’s a giant, orange and black doglike creature, standing as tall as an oak. In the moonlight, its scales glitter, and the creature’s many eyes are set on Aileron. It senses her intent to slay it, and makes the first move. But the aspect of wind is ready.”
The primal beast made a big, clumsy swipe at Aileron, which she easily sidestepped. The wind aspect then jabbed at it, leaping away before the creature can react. It lumbered forth, and Aileron jumped onto its back, getting in more blows. However, she stayed a moment too long, and it rolled over, causing her to roughly hit the ground. Aileron herself now rolled, managing to dodge a strike. She struggled just a bit to get up after landing like that; the wind aspect’s endurance wasn’t her strongest point.
At this point the wind strengthened again, and it seemed the actors have prepared for if this type of opportunity arose. The primal beast fell to the ground, as if the wind aspect had created a powerful gust herself, and Aileron pounced. With another flurry of attacks, she finished off the creature.
The narration concluded,”Finally, the primal beast is defeated. Unfortunately, the Runagate fled in the chaos, and the halo piece has effectively become an ordinary stone. Still, thanks to Aileron’s swift response, much worse has been prevented. The Clan territory remains safe from threats that no ordinary cat can slay.”
Other Relations: Beechfur (mentor) unknown Dark Forest mentor
Clan: ShadowClan
Rank: medicine cat
Characteristics: loving, strong StarClan bond
Murder Motive: to prevent bad mothers from having kits
Number of Victims: 5+
Number of Murders: 5+
Murder Method: ripping out throat
Known Victims: Foggybeetle, Snipheart, Auburnslash, Brushfall, Thorntalon
Victim Profile: pregnant queens
Cause of Death: unknown
Cautionary Tale: ??
Story:
Maybe her life would’ve been calmer if her mother had been kinder, instead of…how she was.
Foggybeetle could scarcely look at her without complaining about how difficult her birth had been, and would often tell the young Laurelkit how, if she was smart, she wouldn’t dare have kits.
When Sorrelpelt had her litter, Laurelpaw wanted to retch.
That was what happened?!
Scarcely had she recovered from that horror, she overheard Foggybeetle announce that she was expecting. Memories of her own kithood flashed through her young mind, and she made the choice that, no matter how well Foggybeetle had raised her, her mother would not raise another litter.
Once her mother was disposed of, she pretended to mourn, but her dreams were filled with a new place, a place where she found support better than her Clan ever offered her.
It was this place that gave her the idea of how to prevent undeserving mothers like Foggybeetle.
Queens to be came to her, and she assessed their personality with calm detachment, her dark mentor whispering in her ear.
Snipheart was old, 153 moons, and a strange one to boot. She would not be a fit mother.
Auburnslash, the deputy, was a notorious grouch, who had a history of not being a fan of kits.
Chirpspore was the first to pass. Efficient, friendly, and a rather sweet queen, Laureldawn approved of her, and let her be.
Brushfall was next. A sweet, if airheaded queen, who tended towards being a busybody. She would not be a fit mother.
When she learned that she herself was expecting, she panicked a bit, asking around to learn of her own virtue. Since the overall opinion seemed to be positive, she allowed her kits to be born.
And they were adorable! Blackkit, Fallowkit, and little Nettlekit. Three little bundles of fluff that she doted on.
But the world wouldn’t let her happiness last.
Blackkit, just two moons old, died of greencough.
And when she was grieving, and vulnerable, mourning her firstborn, stupid Thorntalon decided to announce her own pregnancy.
