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Playing with a new art program
Strike the Match - Chapter 6: Suncairn
Cardinalpaw’s pads stung as he leapt over the long before him panting with Jackdawpaw and Ravenpaw racing at his side. Not for the first time during this tortuous event, he cursed the apparent sadism of his mentor and the determination of the Stormborn to make their cadets suffer. After returning from the Games, all of the day’s activity had slammed into him and his cohorts at once. Having already eaten before they returned home, they had staggered on shaky legs through the gorse tunnel; barely hearing the cats around them as they slipped into their den and clambered into their nests. He’d been woken up the very next day - thankfully, not at dawn or he may have actually swiped at his mentor - to discover that Asterdawn was a boar-driver with standards as high as his mother’s.
The reports from the Wealdyawn about Havoc’s presence continued coming in and all of the senior legionaries seemed to pushed into complete overdrive. The initial sprints through the forest meant to help them learn the routes and boundaries had become training to ensure that each of them can traverse the tangled forest like winged beasts.
They were brought to random spaces in the forest, left there for a short bit before being told to find the fastest route to the barracks from where they were. In theory, Cardinalpaw understood its importance - if they really were attacked by Havoc, the best they could do is find more warriors rather than attempting to fight the mad-dog with their own paws. It had its uses in the case of invasion as well - newer cadets tended to serve as messengers during battles after all and if they couldn’t find their way back to the barracks, it would make getting back-up harder. The effects it had on his body were readily apparent as well - Cardinalpaw had built muscular faster during these last few frenzied runs than he had in previous training exercises and he can tell that his stamina had improved drastically. He’d even noticed - much to his delight - that his pads were finally starting to toughen up in the face of the forest. The menacing forest and it’s sharp thorns still pierced his innocent pads but he hardly noticed the hard rocks he trampled over anyone.
In practice however, his lungs were currently burning, and his muscles were begging him to stop. It was never just one sprint a day after all - the forest rushes were given a block of passing time based on the sun and they would do as many as they could in that period of time. Their mentors always rated them higher when they could perform multiple and so, Cardinalpaw found himself cursed with the desire to make his mentor proud.
Green-eyes caught sight of the fallen branch and adjusted his course towards the side lower to the ground, leaping seamlessly over it and onto the other side. He darted right through the gorse tunnel and skidded to a halt a few tail-lengths from the barracks’s entrance. Cardinalpaw shook his head while he panted, recovering as Jackdawpaw and Ravenpaw finally caught up with him; scrambling through the tunnel and collapsing at his side.
“Well done you three.”
Cardinalpaw twisted, looking up tiredly to see his mentor looking very pleased with herself. She was flanked by Larkwing and Lionheart who were watching with equal amounts of pride for themselves.
“Cardinalpaw, your coordination is improving with every drill,” Asterdawn praised him. “However you need to work on your breathing, you run out of breath very quickly and that is dangerous on the field.”
Cardinalpaw raised his head, pride flooding his body at her words. Asterdawn wasn’t exactly sparse with her praise and she didn’t go out of her way to ignore him but she didn’t toss it around willy-nilly either. Every word of praise, every sound of approval made towards him had been hard-earned and it meant all the more to him when he received it. The faction from her praise softened the criticism allowing him to think through what she was saying, thinking as hard as he could while his lungs recovered from his sprint. As his mind sharpened, the truth in Asterdawn’s words hit him - that it took so long for him to recover… a battle could’ve already been lost before he was recovered enough to ask for reinforcements!
“Ravenpaw your leaps and pacing are well-done but you need to watch your surroundings more carefully,” Larkwing instructed.
Ravenpaw nodded, having recovered faster than Cardinalpaw and began wiping dirt from his face. Cardinalpaw valiantly withheld the urge to laugh remembering how his friend had gone down in a blur of speed and a surprised yelp, slamming into a grass-less stretch.
“Despite the disadvantages your pelt poses, you did well overall Jackdawpaw,” Lionheart praised and the gray cadet immediately purred. “I will make arrangements with our long-furred legionaries to collect more tips about traversing the brambles with long-fur. Maybe they have advice more suited to you.”
“Thank you Lionheart,” Jackdawpaw chirped happily.
“Now that you’ve all had the chance to warm-up, we can start the process of beginning your first Correction’s Assessment,” Asterdawn hummed.
“An assessment!” Ravenpaw yelped in horror. “Already?”
“It’s more of a training exercise,” Larkwing soothed him immediately, resting his tail over the lanky-cadet’s back. Ravenpaw looked up at him with frightened yellow eyes and the brown tom leaned down, pressing his nose to his cadet’s. “It’s just to ensure you haven’t picked up any bad habits - we’re going to make sure that you won’t become too reliant on those.”
“We don’t expect you to be perfect,” Asterdawn reaffirmed, looking over the three of them. “This is merely a check-in. It’s more of an assessment for your mentors at this stage.”
She stepped back sending them an encouraging look, “Eat then take a moment to stretch and loosen your muscles. Once Chaffinchpaw and Wrenpaw return from their patrol, we’ll begin.”
| | |
“This shall be an all-around assessment of skills with no specializations,” Asterdawn announced to the cadets gathered before her. “It will be divided into two broad parts - sparring and hunting.”
The five of them were spoiling with excess energy - Ravenpaw’s tail lashed anxiously as he kneaded the ground, fear and distress practically radiating from the lanky tom as he kept shooting nervous looks towards his mentor. Jackdawpaw supported him as best as he could, pressing firmly against him and occasionally touching his nose to the anxious cadet’s cheek. Contrasting Ravenpaw’s nervous energy and Jackdawpaw’s soothing aura, Chaffinchpaw was half-way to standing from sheer excitement. She was practically dancing with glee and Cardinalpaw could understand - Chaffinchpaw was unquestionably the best hunter of them all and was no slouch in sparring either. This wouldn’t be a difficult assessment for her.
“Is everyone ready?’ Asterdawn asked.
They all made a sound of affirmation of various enthusiasm.
“Alright then - first, Chaffinchpaw and Jackdawpaw.”
Cardinalpaw stayed put, shuffling closer to Ravenpaw and taking up the duty of calming their anxious friend while Jackdawpaw moved forward to join Chaffinchpaw, who’d bounded straight to the center. The two cadets exchanged confident expressions and they shook themselves out.
“Are you ready?” Asterdawn prompted once more earning a pair of firm nods. “Then begin!”
With hesitation, the two cadets launched themselves at each other. Matches between Chaffinchpaw and Jackdawpaw were always explosive in energy with Chaffinchpaw’s continuous aggression from the moment the spar started and Jackdawpaw’s head-long determination. Chaffinchpaw started with her signature strategy of aiming for the eyes, always preferring to startle an opponent and taking advantage of their flinching. Jackdawpaw fell right into her trap, leaping backwards to avoid the paw aimed at his eyes which Chaffinchpaw immediately exploited with a fast lunge. She pounced on him, trying to pin him with the same move that often gave Cardinalpaw trouble - a problem that he noticed immediately.
Jackdawpaw is way bigger than me, Cardinalpaw thinks to himself watching the match.
Sure enough, the gray tom easily threw her off; the hold she was using not well-suited for his larger size and took the chance to lunge at her. Chaffinchpaw dodged his attack and sprung forward herself, targeting his belly. Instead of dodging her, Jackdawpaw just smirked and dropped on top of her earning a loud yowl of surprise. Chaffinchpaw wiggled and squirmed beneath him, trying to free herself with waving paws and bared teeth. Jackdawpaw obliged her desire to escape, rolling off of her and rearing up to give what Cardinalpaw knew to be a brain scrambling body slam.
Chaffinchpaw quickly flipped the situation on him, slamming into his belly again and knocking him to the ground. The two tussled for a bit, rolling across the clearing and almost hitting Lionheart who quickly removed from himself before he could get clawed again. Chaffinchpaw finally managed to get a grip on Jackdawpaw’s scruff even while they rolled and promptly began pummeling his stomach with powerful kicks.
Cardinalpaw grinned - that was his move!
“Enough - Chaffinchpaw wins!” Asterdawn declared as the two cadets broke off.
“Oww,” Jackdawpaw groaned, rolling to his paws. “My stomach is going to be bruised for days. Good idea with the kicking thing.”
“It was Cardinalpaw’s idea,” Chaffinchpaw admitted, glancing towards the ginger tom. “Callastorm said it would’ve shredded me - I get it now.”
“Good,” Callastorm purred walking closer to the cadets, focusing on his own. Chaffinchpaw straightened up at his attention. “Well done Chaffinchpaw, your techniques were very well done. It’s clear however you’ve gotten used to sparring with Cardinalpaw, you need to be more careful - you won’t always be bigger than your opponent and when that happens, you can’t rely on strength alone.”
“You’re right,” Chaffinchpaw huffed, giving her pelt a harsh shake. “He was always stronger than I was thinking. And then he sat on me!”
“You have to use what you have,” Jackdawpaw snickered, earning a light swipe to the shoulder.
“Yeah yeah.”
“That was good improvisation Jackdawpaw,” Lionheart praised with his own chuckle that made his cadet preen. “We need to work on your forethought - you could have won if you hadn’t tried to rear.”
“I realized at the same second she hit my belly,” Jackdawpaw agreed sheepishly.
“Next is Ravenpaw and Wrenpaw,” Asterdawn announced making Cardinalpaw sigh a little. It seemed he would be last. His mentor gave him a sympathetic expression but moved back to her space to referee the match.
Ravenpaw crept forward anxiously, his tail lashing low near his ankles as he stepped into the sparring area. The lanky tom looked like he was just waiting for Vahuŕepra to come collect his soul in stark contrast to his brother who appeared to be running through lessons and advice through his head.
“He’s always so worried about sparring,” Jackdawpaw murmurs, his tail swishing anxiously. “What if he gets attacked?”
“He’ll fight them off,” Chaffinchpaw dismissed. “Ravenpaw can defend himself if he has to - he’s just no good with knowing he’s gonna be attacked.”
“That’s not really a good thing,” Jackdawpaw pointed out.
“Begin!”
Cardinalpaw quickly returned his attention to spar in time to see Wrenpaw fly at his brother. Ravenpaw yelped, clearly not expecting the aggression and immediately scrambled away from the attack. The battle rapidly morphed into Wrenpaw attempting to catch the lanky tom who danced skillfully out of reach of his brother’s every swipe and snap. The harder Wrenpaw attacked, the more fluidly Ravenpaw dodged him and the dusky brown tom was becoming more and more visibly frustrated with every successful dodge his brother made. Ravenpaw made no attacks of his own, treating it more like a serious fight than just a sparring match. His tail was bushed out and the fur on his spine had begun to stand up, yellow eyes wide from the adrenaline. His claws occasionally scored across the ground when he had to move faster than expected, his legs occasionally tangling on themselves when his brother tried to attack from both fronts.
Wrenpaw released a sound of frustration, abandoning all strategy and diving into outright attacks just trying to make a hit connect. It seemed this was the opening Ravenpaw was looking for because he lunged forward, tacking Wrenpaw to the ground abruptly. The dusky brown tom released a yowl of shock as he went thumping to the ground, Ravenpaw quickly pinning him to the ground and resting a paw on his throat.
Cardinalpaw’s ears were pricked in his surprise, his mouth hanging open slightly in shocked disbelief as Wrenpaw finally went limp beneath him calling out in defeat.
“... I could’ve sworn Ravenpaw was losing,” Jackdawpaw said looking bewildered as Asterdawn called the match in Ravenpaw’s favor.
“Not really,” said Cardinalpaw blinking a bit in surprise himself. “Technically he was just dodging.”
“A perfectly reasonable strategy when you’re light enough on your paws,” Larkwing broke in, purring with approval at his cadet. “That strategy won’t work on everyone but most cats will get frustrated and become impulsive which leaves plenty of openings. Nice work Ravenpaw - we’ll work on your skills in offense.”
The black tom flattened his ears in embarrassment, but his tail was raised with pride. Wrenpaw for his part climbed slowly to his paws, looking somewhat humiliated to have lost his temper and being defeated because of it.
“Don’t worry young Wrenpaw,” Lionheart soothed. “Everyone has moments where they lose their temper. Try to be more aware of when you’re getting frustrated and you’ll do just fine.”
“Alright Lionheart,” the cadet agreed sheepishly.
“Cardinalpaw,” Asterdawn called. “It’s you and Chaffinchpaw now!”
Chaffinchpaw immediately perked up, the break she had from her match having her bounding easily to her paws, “Yes! It’s time for revenge!”
“In case you forgot, the old score was four-three,” Cardinalpaw said, trotting to his place in the clearing. “That means the Skies are watching me this time.”
“Keep dreaming farm-tom!”
“Kick her tail Cardinalpaw!” Jackdawpaw cheered from the sidelines.
“You got this Chaffinchpaw!” Wrenpaw called, nudging the gray tom in challenge.
“Begin!”
Unlike the previous matches, Cardinalpaw and Chaffinchpaw didn’t charge each other immediately. They knew each other’s strengths and had sparred enough to know that if they were going to come out on top, they’d have to play it smart. Cardinalpaw made a few bluffs towards Chaffinchpaw, feeling out the situation and receiving a few bluffs in return. He was determined to pull ahead in this match and therefore, in their competition. Ignoring the spar from before, Chaffinchpaw was very skilled at using her size against her opponents; thoroughly trouncing him as he simply couldn’t overpower her. He’d learned quickly that Lionheart wasn’t some kind of fluke - all the cats of the Stormborn were a decent amount bigger than he was. Even Ravenpaw - though lanky and mostly legs and ears - could send him sprawling if he really wanted to.
Thankfully, Cardinalpaw was used to being the smaller cat in the fight. Cats of the Shining Sun all seemed to be on the smaller side as far as the royal family was concerned and so when he was training in self-defense, they’d been taught to use their heads not their claws. Taking the lesson to heart, he watched Chaffinchpaw carefully; making a few more bluffs towards her. Finally he caught it - she was favoring her left hind-leg. It was likely she bruised it when Jackdawpaw plopped down on top of her and that meant now, he had an angle.
Reassured of his plan, Cardinalpaw finally took the initiative springing towards the sand-colored molly and feinted towards the right. Chaffinchpaw immediately tried to dodge him, jumping left likely with the intention of retaliating, but instead, she yelped as her leg buckled beneath her. She probably hadn’t even realized it was sore before that moment but Cardinalpaw wasn’t going to give her the chance to recover and adapt to work with it. He charged her, slamming into her side to further unbalance her; artfully dodging the flailing paws she used in an attempt to ward him off. He kept pressing from her right, forcing her to continue attempting to use her bruised leg to recover; hooking his paws beneath hers to keep her from fully getting back to her paws.
After a particularly sharp swat to her face Chaffinchpaw sighed, scrambling back again but without trying to defend.
“I surrender!” she called out huffily.
“Winner, Cardinalpaw!” Asterdawn declared immediately, encouraging the cadets to back off from each other. “That was a good technique, forcing her to use her injured leg to support herself.”
“Well she’s too tough for a head-on fight so I had to try another way,” Cardinalpaw purred, basking in the way she brushed her tail over his back in approval.
“You’re really good at this!” Jackdawpaw purred brightly.
Callastorm slipped through them, a concerned look on his face as he sniffed at Chaffinchpaw’s leg.
“Are you okay Chaffinchpaw?” he asked with concern. “You put a lot of stress on that leg-”
“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “It was harder to stand with someone attacking me - well played Cardinalpaw.”
He grinned.
| | |
The adrenaline slowly began to die down from the spar leaving them somewhat tired but excited for the next portion of the assessment. Even Ravenpaw was becoming impatient now that they were over the combat portion of the assignment, kneading the ground with anticipation as he listened to Cardinalpaw and Ravenpaw gossip. Callastorm offered to let Chaffinchpaw sit out and allow her to finish her assessment the next day after having a long rest, but the cream furred molly protested loudly throughout the entire offer. In the end, the white furred hunter sighed good-naturedly and instead just enforced that she keep it stretched out on the ground so that it could rest.
Once they’d regained their breath, the cadets bid each other a temporary farewell as their mentors split them up; leading them to different sections of the woods. Asterdawn led Cardinalpaw all the way to the Fennyield border, coming to a halt a bit away from where he knew Snakerocks to be.
“You must catch three kinds of prey,” she instructed him. “One that can fly, one that can run and one that either digs or swims. When you’ve caught all three, return to the ridge before the barracks and we’ll address any common mistakes we see among you alongside any personal mistakes. You have until sunset at the very latest to get back to the barracks.”
Cardinalpaw nodded and then watched his mentor trot off, leaving him standing within the trees. His pelt rippled at the idea that she was monitoring him even when he couldn’t see her. He lifted his head, sniffing the air curiously but she must’ve disguised her scent because he only caught wind of her fresh smell beside him.
It didn’t take him long to catch both a mouse and then a sparrow - they had been the first things he’d learned to hunt back in the kingdoms out of boredom and the Stormborn had sharpened his skills - but every rabbit seemed to be prenaturally aware of his presence. The swift footed cotton-tails evaded him no matter what he tried, slipping around them and retreating into the brush or burrows he could swear hadn’t been there a moment before. After the third failed attempt to catch a rabbit, the ruddy tom gave in.
“It’ll be more fun to catch something that swims anyway,” he grumbled, attempting to convince himself.
He trotted further into the woods, taking the quicker routes that led to the more prominent streams that ran through Stormborn territory; unsure if he was also be quizzed on his knowledge of the trails. He figured it was possible so he ensured that he was doing absolutely everything as right as he could. The rossetted tom padded slowly up to one of the streams, thinking about what to catch - he considered attempting to fish in the main river before discarding the idea. Cardinalpaw didn’t have the most skill or training in fishing, the Shining Sun weren’t big fish breeders after all and besides, he wasn’t sure if he should be seen so close to the Shorerisen border without his mentor in clear sight. While Asterdawn and The Styrman were friendly, the Shorerisen kept marking across the border and the patrols that crossed paths were getting more and more hostile.
So Cardinalpaw turned away, following one of the branching streams from the main river and seeking out a muddy bank that formed a small pond. Much to his delight and relief given the sun was getting lower and lower every time he looked up, the small pool was teeming with frogs and flies swarmed around them. There was mud everywhere, the water was primarily murky and Cardinalpaw figures that if it had been any hotter, he would’ve been completely out of luck as it dried up, but for now, he would take advantage.
He pounced, catching one frog between his paws and reflexively catching another that sprung by his mouth. He made a pleased purr in his chest, releasing the extra frog in his paws and quickly killing the one already in his mouth.
Stepped out of the mud, Cardinalpaw shook his paws as clean as he could get them and then slunk through the forest; trying to remember where he stashed his mouse and sparrow. He passed the tree he marked by mistake before he remembered and dug up the rest of his catch, gathering them close to his paws and stuffed all three in his mouth. He then made the long trek back to the barracks.
He clambered up to the ridge, frankly unsurprised that he was the last one back from the hunt.
Chaffinchpaw of course had outdone them all, showing them up easily by catching what Cardinalpaw thinks is a young porcupine. It was smaller than the elders told stories of them being but with the long, painful looking quills he was impressed that she caught one at all. Jackdawpaw for his part had two squirrels and a mouse sitting by his paws. Ravenpaw managed to grab one of the rabbits that gave Cardinalpaw so much trouble and Wrenpaw had snagged two of the wretched creatures and also a sparrow.
“You found a frog?” Jackdawpaw blurted out, looking impressed. “I tried but all the pools near me were empty.”
“The rabbits were too hard,” Cardinalpaw grumbled.
“I know what you mean,” Jackdawpaw said, gesturing to his haul. “That’s why I have two squirrels - something is better than nothing.”
“How’d you get a porcupine?” Cardinalpaw asked Chaffinchpaw.
She straightened up smugly, “I had Wishsoul’s blessing upon me. I was chasing a mouse and startled it. It tried to run but fell on a tree-root so I killed it before it could recover.”
“The quills will be useful,” Ravenpaw hummed softly, looking over the felled creature. “We can trade those for herbs or the crafters can use them.”
“Correct.”
They glanced up, their mentors striding towards them with Asterdawn in the lead. Cardinalpaw sincerely doubts they’d come back before them and wondered if they’d just wanted to hear the cadets talking to each other.
Maybe I’ll be a mentor someday, he thought to himself. And then I’ll get to know.
“Those quills are very valuable,” Asterdawn praised. “Good catch Chaffinchpaw.”
The molly preened immediately as Lionheart took a spot beside Asterdawn.
“Now let’s review.”
| | |
The review portion of their hunt took longer than Cardinalpaw had anticipated though the insight he gained was useful. According to Asterdawn, the reason he’d struggled so much to catch rabbits was that he was treating them like he treated mice. Domestic rabbits didn’t hop away from him when he approached so he used the strategy that he’d been taught worked before - except rabbits weren’t as sensitive to the vibrations of the ground as mice were. Their large ears weren't just for show and they much quicker to hear you than they were to feel you. He’d stepped too loudly, prioritizing a gently placed paw over the sound he made then kept underestimating how close he needed to be. Not only were rabbits bigger than mice, they were faster too - he wasn’t looking to keep them out of leaf-litter like mice; he was trying to grab them before they had a chance to take off.
“Most of the time, a rabbit will outpace a cat,” Asterdawn lectured him. “So don’t make it a race.”
Jackdawpaw had a similar problem. The tom’s strategy had been making noise in order to startle prey into revealing themselves, allowing him to have the pick of the litter so to speak. Unfortunately, birds were able to fly and while Jackdawpaw was quick enough to chase down squirrels; he didn’t have the same reflexes that Chaffinchpaw did and though he’d made a few attempts, couldn’t swat them from the skies.
Wrenpaw it turned out had the exact opposite problem to him - always stepping too firmly, preferring to move quietly over minimizing the impact his paws had on the ground. The mice felt him a full tail away sending them fleeing even when he hadn’t made a sound.
Their mentors went over some common mistakes she saw them making - hesitating or forgetting to check the direction of the wind - then began corrected their stalking. Cardinalpaw’s own crouch was still perfectly balanced and he was getting better moving swiftly while also keeping himself quiet instead of prioritizing one or the other. By the time the review was over, he was trading yawns with his cohort; flashes of teeth appearing ever few minutes or so in their exhaustion.
“This has been a long day for you all,” Asterdawn said, kind enough to keep her voice low for the exhausted cadets. “Take your prey to the ukennva and rest.”
“Yes My Storm,” they all echoed and followed their mentors back into the barracks.
There were still cats milling about - Cardinalpaw even caught sight of Mottletail speaking to who he assumed was the sunset patrol but he was too tired to make out any of their words. Their mentors dispersed leaving them standing in the clearing, wavering slightly on their paws.
“... I’m taking a nap,” Jackdawpaw proclaimed, snatching one of his squirrels from the pile they’d just built up and started towards the cadets’ den.
They all mumbled their agreement with the plan, choosing prey for themselves as well. Cardinalpaw almost didn’t, he thinks he’s too tired to eat but he also didn’t want to risk Asterdawn waking him up the next morning for a dawn patrol on an empty stomach. He flopped down into his nest, chewing tiredly on his selected frog, tearing it to pieces in a messier way than he normally did. When it was gone, he mentally slugged his way through a prayer to Ashara then rested his head on his paws.
Then he closed his eyes to enjoy his well-deserved nap.
| | |
Blessedly, Cardinalpaw was wrong.
Instead of being dragged out of his cozy nest for another dawn patrol. Cardinalpaw awoke to the low chattering of cats outside the den. He was snuggled deep into his bedding, long winding tail wrapped loosely around himself, with Jackdawpaw pressed firmly against him. The tom had rolled on his back at sometime during the night, sprawling out and dangling his hindlegs from his nest leaving his forepaws folded against his chest. Cardinalpaw careful extracted himself from Jackdawpaw’s limbs, standing up very slowly and arching his back in place so as not to wake the tom up. He pulled himself forward, flexing his hindlegs and letting the muscles connected to his fins loosen themselves. He shook his head a little, bringing himself slowly into alertness while enjoying the groggy energy strung across his pinna.
He picked his way through their den, careful not to wake Chaffinchpaw or Wrenpaw who seemed to also have been spared by their mentors from waking up early. He almost wished he could rejoin them - it seemed that being woken up around the same time for about a moon had already formed a habit for him, triggering an internal alarm that woke him.
He peered up at the sky, squinting at the bright glare of Vrayushu’s light. He yawned again, the direct sunlight making his pelt tickle and shiver.
Cardinalpaw made his way towards the ukennva, restocked and settled by his factionmates at some point while he napped. He sniffed at the pile curiously, nudging through what was leftover before finally settling on a small vole and a somewhat plump mouse. He prepared to flop by the stump, ready to settle in to eat when he noticed the tired form of Ravenpaw yawning by the gorse tunnel. Flicking his ear, he dropped the prey to the ground and snagged a squirrel; scooping up all three pieces of prey and strode over to his friend.
“Hi Cardinalpaw,” he greeted, giving a mew of thanks when Cardinalpaw nudged the squirrel to his paws.
“Ya Ravenpaw - how long have you been up?”
“Not long. Larkwing is going to formally introduce me to the fox skulk that borders Galespun’s - the Great Crows,” the lanky tom explained, an excited light entering his eye despite his evident exhaustion. “That way they’ll come to recognize me as a formal diplomat.”
“Cool,” said Cardinalpaw, tucking into his vole first,
“Did you ever meet the skulks when you were a farm kitty?”
Cardinalpaw frowned - both from the term and for the way his friend used ‘were.’ Did the whole faction think that just because he joined them, he was no longer of the Shining Sun? That he’d severed all ties to his blood-family? Would they only ever recognize him as a former kingdom cat?
It’s too early to fret about this, he thinks to himself, choosing to answer Ravenpaw’s question instead. “A few times but not very often. Usually they only talked to ko- I mean mother and the Guard Captains. Otherwise I met them through the ones who left and are staying with the Sun.”
“Right- that makes sense,” Ravenpaw said, looking a bit embarrassed. “If I was too young for real meetings you probably were too…”
Cardinalpaw tilted his head, “Can I go?”
“You’d have to ask Larkwing.”
“Alright.”
Cardinalpaw and Ravenpaw settled into silence, the two cats beginning to finish their meals. It didn’t take long for Cardinalpaw to finish off his mouse so he brushed the mousetails aside and began the process of grooming his pelt. He dragged his tongue through the tangles he hadn’t bothered cleaning from the night before, picking out the moss from the nest and the twigs that were stabbing him in awkward positions. He’d just started in on his sleek fur of his tail - mostly spared the tragedy of the rest of his pelt’s condition - when Larkwing approached.
“Good morning Cardinalpaw,” he greeted, much more awake than either cadet.
“Anuŕai Larkwing,” Cardinalpaw greeted lightly. “Can I go with you and Ravenpaw to meet the loner-factions?”
“There may not be anyone on the border,” Larkwing warned him. “We won’t cross the border to go searching so we could be waiting all day.”
“That’s fine - I might see someone I recognize.”
“Then you may come,” Larkwing said, dipping his head. “Maybe you’ll have some perspective that Ravenpaw and I don’t have. Let’s go.”
Cardinalpaw got to his paws giving one last stretch, extending his forelegs ahead of himself then straightening up. He shook out his pelt and followed the two diplomats towards the gorse-tunnel. He almost groaned when Larkwing almost immediately fell into a trot, his lightly sore muscles immediately wary of doing so much all over against but he kept it to himself. Going into a trot was nearly always a sign that a trek was in progress and sure enough, after they cleared the ridge; Larkwing broke into a rush. Within seconds, they were weaving through the trees and slipping under roots - just because Cardinalpaw was getting better at these didn’t mean he liked them anymore than he had the first time. He was just starting to find his stride when Larkwing’s pace started to slow down; his ears standing upright. Cardinalpaw nearly crashed into the diplomat when he halted entirely, listening to something.
The ruddy tom was still trying to catch his breath (he hadn’t yet had the time to work on his pacing) to try to listen out for whatever made Larkwing stop. Ravenpaw - who’d recovered faster - pricked his large ears and slowly began to stiffen.
“Change of plans,” Larkwing said, turning them deeper into Stormborn territory rather than continuing to head towards the Sun-Kingdom border.
“Back-up?” Cardinalpaw asked, straining his ears once more.
Larkwing didn’t respond verbally, merely starting back into a proper runt; taking a full-tilt towards the river. Cardinalpaw did his best to keep up, falling behind a bit in his bid to keep oxygen in his lungs. It sounded like they were heading into battle and he couldn’t risk getting himself hurt. At the pace they were moving, Cardinalpaw’s ears finally caught the sound of yowling and hissing. As they kept moving, the distinct scent of fish touched his throat.
“The Suncairn,” Ravenpaw spat out.
“The Shorerisen must’ve ambushed Mottletail’s hunting patrol,” Larkwing said shortly.
Back up.
Cardinalpaw grinned an unfriendly grin.
His blood pounded in his ears as they burst through the bushes to the chaos of a border-scuffle. The faint hint of copper touched his tongue and Cardinalpaw didn’t hesitate to throw herself onto the first unfamiliar pelt he saw. His target earned a yelp of surprise as his claws sank into the dappled tortoiseshell pelt of the Shorerisen cadet and went rolling down the rocks. As he grappled with her, he heard a shriek of shock and an agitated, “More Stormborn?!” signifying that Ravenpaw and Larkwing had jumped into the thick of it.
The cadet beneath him - that he vaguely recognized as Rushpaw, wasn’t she a crafter? Why is she here? - twisted around and snapped at his throat, grasping the collar around his neck and tugging. She probably hoped to choke him, likely assuming that it would twist to strangle him - instead, he simply ranked his head back and the snaps immediately came undone, the button slipping easily out of the hole resulting in the molly smacking her head harshly against the rocks below. She groaned and Cardinalpaw only had to swipe at her twice for her to make a sound of retreat and he let her scramble free.
Rushpaw took his release for what it was and staggered her way to the river, sliding into the water. Cardinalpaw watched her with concern, slightly worried that she would drown given the head injury only to almost be bowled over by the familiar face of Osierpaw taking off with deep claw-marks gouged into her cheek. He didn’t bother to follow her - she was already retreating after all - so instead he elected to help out Ravenpaw being pressed by a fully-grown Shorerisen legionary. Cardinalpaw slipped around her, sinking his teeth into her left hind-leg making her yowl in pain. She immediately tried to kick him, his attention redirected only for Ravenpaw to snap at her front legs and unbalancing him. Cardinalpaw knocked her hindlegs from beneath her again and started to attack only to he bowled over.
Cardinalpaw yelped as pain shot through him from the impact against the stones, a burly muscular black tom bearing down on him with unsheathed claws. Unfortunately for him, he’d left his belly a little too closer to Cardinalpaw’s hind-legs and the ruddy tom kicked up. He wasn’t nearly big or strong enough to toss the legionary off of him but the impact (paired with his sharp claws stabbing his delicate belly) was enough to make him shift over. And the shifting was all her needed to free his head enough to sink his teeth into the tom’s ankle pressed into his shoulder.
The tom snapped at his ear again before being bowled over by a pale-brown cat Cardinalpaw didn’t recognize.
“What are you doing?!” he snapped at Cardinalpaw’s previous attacker. Just from his glossy brown pelt and wide paws, Cardinalpaw immediately knew this was another Shorerisen legionary. “That’s a new cadet!”
Unwilling to prod a gift-goose in the flank, Cardinalpaw hastily retreated from the area; his ears catching his savior retreating deeper into the fighting. Panting, Cardinalpaw looked through the battle trying to see where he was needed most. He shook his head, dislodging the blood trickling down the side of his head and the way his skull pounded from the impact made him dizzy. A loud screech startled them and Cardinalpaw staggered out of the way of two rapidly running cats. It took him a second to process that he was watching Mottletail pursue a couple of Shorerisen cats deeper into Stormborn territory.
“Cardinalpaw.”
He looked up, blinking hard as Larkwing’s face swam into focus. The diplomat seemed as ragged as everyone else, miscellaneous clumps of bloody fur littered his body and his claws were still partially unsheathed, filled with the fur of his enemies.
“Go back to the barracks,” the diplomat commanded. “Tell Spottedholly to expect a lot of legionaries and tell Asterdawn some warriors escaped into the forest.”
Cardinalpaw hesitated, but the pain in his head convinced him - he wouldn’t be much more use here and after this fight, Ravenpaw and Larkwing wouldn’t be meeting with anyone. He’s glad that they weren’t attending a scheduled meeting - it would be embarrassing for the Stormborn if they’d missed an important meeting.
He turned and made the trek back through the forest, taking as many of the shortcuts that he could remember. His new cuts stung and the pounding of his head made him more clumsy than he usually was. The journey flashed by and he was on the edge of the ridge before he knew it. His paw caught on a stray stone and he slid down the hill, slamming into the ground with a pained groan.
“Cardinalpaw?”
He looked up blearily to see Nadderpelt - Jackdawpaw’s mother - approaching him with concern on her face.
“The Shorerisen ambushed the hunting party,” he said, climbing tiredly back to his paws. “Some of them got away - the rest of the patrol are coming back.”
“Hurry to Spottedholly,” she told him worriedly.
Cardinalpaw staggered through the gorse-tunnel, adding more cuts and braises from his struggle to come out the other side. The cats already gathered in the clearing called out to him in concern, the sitters poking their heads from the nursery as Spottedholly came charging from her den at the scent of blood,
“Shorerisen ambush,” he explained before she could reach him, already swaying on his paws. “There are other coming. Shorerisen legionaries in the forest.”
“Okay,” Spottedholly purred soothingly, herding him away from the peering eyes of everyone in the clearing and towards her den. When he stumbled, she didn’t hesitate to just grab him by the scruff of his neck. Cardinalpaw didn’t fight it, sighing softly to himself as he let her carry him away.
| | |
“Cardinalpaw? Cardinalpaw?!”
“He’s alright Jackdawpaw - he’s just very tired.”
“A-and Ravenpaw?”
“His leg will heal and the wounds aren’t too deep - Moonsoul will not be guiding them yet.”
“But they look so small …”
“This is what battle looks like. It’s never pretty.”
Cardinalpaw finally summoned the strength to open his eyes a crack, his vision blurry and his eyelids heavy. It had been sunhigh when he returned but now, the orange and red colors of Vrayushu’s flame painted the clearing on the side that was unshielded. His entire face felt sticky and he was sure he had crusts built up in the corners of his eyes. Though his shoulder and side still stung, the pain was muffled and the pounding of his head finally faded. He groaned a little and tried to stand.
“Cardinalpaw!”
“Lay back down right now.”
Cardinalpaw looked up at the sound of unsheathed claws scratching the floor and a fully bristled Jackdawpaw came scampering across the den to him with Spottedholly following at a slower, more controlled pace.
“Are you okay?!” Jackdawpaw demanded, skidding to a halt in front of him. “I woke up and you were gone and when I went out, mom said you were in the mender’s den!”
“...where are the others?” Cardinalpaw asked instead.
Jackdawpaw flicked his tail deeper into the den and Cardinalpaw followed the gesture to the series of nests containing legionaries curled with various herbs applied to them. With every face he recognized, Cardinalpaw felt his body relax - his factionmates were okay.
Good.
“I’m fine,” he told Jackdawpaw finally. “I’m just really sore. I feel like I ran backwards through a rose-bush.”
“You might as well have,” Spottedholly voiced, drawing his attention to her. “Most of the more dangerous attacks were reduced to scratches. Still, you hit your head very hard. Take it easy for a few days - no dawn patrols and only half-days for a few sunrises.”
Cardinalpaw nodded, then groaned when the world titled from his actions. Even if he hadn’t been planning on listening, he would be now.
When he opened his eyes, they fell on Ravenpaw whose nest was right next to his. His fellow cadet’s backleg was wrapped in leaves and cobweb, a green liquid peeking through the cracks, his left ear was a bit of thorn and a few of his whiskers were shorter than he should be. Looking a bit further up, he saw a small trail of moss and sticks suggesting that the nest had been dragged.
He moved closer to me, Cardinalpaw realized.
“He got ambushed when the strays regrouped,” Jackdawpaw explained when he saw Cardinalpaw watching him. “Tigerslash says he was completely cornered.”
“Oh no!” Cardinalpaw gasped.
“It’s okay,” Spottedholly soothed. “He’s alive - Tigerslash got there just in time.”
She didn’t seem to believe her own words, a dull light present in her eyes. Cardinalpaw waited in silence, allowing the mender to inspect the dressings on his hindleg and shoulder. When she was finished, the tortoiseshell walked off to treat one of the other cats - Cedarfur he thinks, but his eyes hurt too much for him to tell - and Jackdawpaw leaned in, lowering his voice.
“... Mottletail is dead,” he whispered and Cardinalpaw jolted in shock. “He tried to save Mottletail but was killed in revenge for Oakshanty’s death.”
“Oh,” said Cardinalpaw, ears flattening as he shrank down in his nest. Does… that mean… ? “So Ravenpaw…”
“He saw him die,” Jackdawpaw agreed softly, shooting a look of heartbreak towards his friend. “Larkwing’s given him a few days to heal and recover. Spottedholly needs the company anyway.”
Cardinalpaw sank his claws into the earth - what a mess. Two factions have lost their deputies now - and if he’s remembering correctly, Oakshanty was The Styrman’s brother. A leader and a mender are now grieving the loss of their brother - all from some cats trying to prove a point.
“How are Chaffinchpaw and Wrenpaw holding up?” he asked.
“Not well,” Jackdawpaw admitted. “Wrenpaw’s heartbroken and won’t leave the cadet’s den. Last I saw Chaffinchpaw, she was sitting at his body. She hasn’t moved since.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not but no one’s willing to make her leave. His vigil hasn’t even started since Our Storm had to send out a patrol to round up the Shore cats.”
“Was this…”
Jackdawpaw growled, “It seems like Our Storm was right. The Styrman didn’t send anyone - these cats did this all on their own and got their lieutenant killed.”
Cardinalpaw hissed - he would hate to be those cats when the Stormborn patrol escorted the legionaries home. He can’t imagine The Styrman being very kind to them.
“...do I have to sit vigil?” Cardinalpaw asked, redirecting the question.
“No - you were injured so you can stay here,” Jackdawpaw reassured. “Most of us will only attend his final send-off. His kin are the only ones that will stay overnight.”
The gray tom sighed, looking towards the den’s entrance,
“...it’s a new moon,” he remarked softly. “Maybe Moonsoul will let him say goodbye before he goes.”
“Does that happen?”
He rolled his left paw, “... I don’t know. Mom and dad say that if you sit vigil long-enough on a moonless night, Moonsoul will let you visit StarClan’s hunting grounds to say one last goodbye.”
Cardinalpaw thought about it for a moment - he still didn’t quite think the Souls were for him, but maybe different lands have different skies. Even if they shared the same canopy.
“Do you think it’d work for me?” Cardinalpaw asked Jackdawpaw softly.
Jackdawpaw looked at him with surprise, a mixture of emotions flying across the cadet’s face. Finally he settled on ‘determined’ and clambered into the nest beside Cardinalpaw. He stretched himself wide, half curling around him to avoid bothering his wounded shoulder. He swept his thick, fluffy tail over his flanks.
“I don’t know,” Jackdawpaw admittedly. “But I don’t think Moonsould would turn you away.”
Cardinalpaw released a little sigh of relief, resting his head on his paws. Jackdawpaw released a gentle purr, rubbing his cheek against his. He wiggled a little, ensuring that he was touching both Cardinalpaw and Ravenpaw at the same time, as if afraid that if he couldn’t touch them, they’d vanish when he re-opened his eyes.
Cardinalpaw purred along, sad, confused and a little tired. It had been a long day right after a long day,
So he drifted off quickly.
---
Kingdom Translations
Ya | Hey, Hi, a sound used to get someone’s attention; a greeting or a sound of affirmation
Anuŕai Larkwing | Good morning, Larking (informal)
---
Pride Translations
Ukennva - the place where all recently killed prey is gathered to be eaten at lesiure, (lit. fresh prey)
---
Allegiances | Previous | Next | First
Strike the Match - Chapter 2: The Proposal
Soŕi stared blankly up at the ceiling of their heir’s den, frustration welling within him as the prickles beneath his pelt seemed to grow strong by the minute. He shuffled with discomfort, trying not to dislodge the siblings that have curled tighter around him as the sensation rapidly began passing from ‘irritating’ to ‘unbearable.’ It felt like the moment before Vrayashu reached down, the tense, charged air making his pelt stand on end and the roots of every individual hair on his pelt stung with the slightest movements he made. He was exhausted, his muscles now cramped from going straight to sleep after the fierce activity of the earlier morning and the ruddy tom had only gotten intermediate gaps of sleep as the sensation peaked, periodically waking him up. His ears flicked furiously, it felt like there was some kind of insect standing on him at all times, but no matter how deeply he checked for fleas and ticks, he was barren of both bastard creatures; the ashweed and silvermint rubbed into his pelt daily driving the pests away from him.
He sighed, finally giving in as he rolled to his paws. The usually soft and comforting pressure of the collar around his neck signifying his dedication to the Souls had suddenly become itchy and restrictive. The longer Soŕi tried to resist the urge to scratch at it, the worse it felt; like it was branding into his pelt, a painful heat quite unfamiliar to a cat of the Skies.
Soŕi stepped away from his siblings to ensure he wouldn’t wake anyone as he raised his hind-leg giving his ears, then his neck a furious scratch in an attempt to alleviate the prickling sensation. It died a little, but his pads still tickled with an urge for movement.
He conceded to the feeling, rising to his paws and began to groom his pelt; removing the stray bits of bedding in one last effort to encourage himself to sleep. When it didn’t work, he fully gave up and started towards the tunnel that would lead him outside. His pinna twitched at the slightly cooler night air drifting down the gently swooped tunnel, his mouth lightly parted as he tried to decipher who was on guard. He caught the eager and curious scent of his sister laced through the den walls from when she’d been quietly called out by their mother.
Soŕi dipped his head to Neŕes as he passed the tom who made a remark about him being moon-led.
He wasn’t sure where he was going, mostly just intending to wander about until he felt sleepy. He avoided the kit’s clearing, far too smart to risk waking up the kits or worse, disturbing their parents on the way past the healer’s den, instead electing to just make a wide lap down towards the bottom of the clearing. The main camp wasn’t completely devoid of life, many night-farmers were stretching, preparing to head out and swap shifts with those that had spent the daylight out in the field.
A flash of silver caught his eye and Soŕi slowed, watching with curiosity as he identified his sister sitting with their mother and a brown furred molly he recognized as Osheŕa. A slight smile twitched at his muzzle when he realized what was likely happening given that his sister had a guardian’s charm resting at her paws. Soŕi’s pinna flapped in excitement for his little sister, even if his mother’s ears periodically pinned against her head before straightening again - she was permitting his sister to train but it was obvious she didn't like it.
Soŕi waited patiently until his sister was dismissed, her collar adorned with the charm identifying her as a newly named squire. His mother made her way up the far side of the clearing, speaking to the few elders that had fallen asleep outside of their dens in the warm night while Osheŕa veered towards the cavern where the guardians tended to gather into. When they were out of ear-shot, he rose to his paws and padded over to Ahasra who was stretching forward, extending her back-legs with a cautious expression; observing the way they bent.
Her ears pricked as he approached, turning her head to meet his eyes with her deep, cornflower blue ones twinkling with joy.
“You were right,” she purred pleasantly, straightening up and bringing her paws together. She raised her tail in greeting, curling the tip of it in delight. “Turns out Osheŕa was interested in me. Makiŕa and her have been talking for a long while about me training - she thinks I can do it regardless of my legs.”
“You can,” Soŕi insisted, touching her cheek with his nose purring pleasantly. “Hranihretok ya, Nipiyu.”
“Yekiyai Soŕi,” Ahasra purred. “You’ve always been there for me.”
He just purred at her before pulling away.
“Couldn’t sleep?” she prompted him finally, looking him over. Soŕi nodded, not bothering to elaborate on the discomfort that occupied his mind. “Want to go for a walk in the woods?”
“Isn’t that faction territory?” Soŕi asked warily, eyes darting to the further canopy where the wild-cats of his father’s stories and their own terrors roamed. The Raids had long since been brought to a stop and rarely did they smell cats of the factions too far from their borders but those who’d been near almost never escaped unscathed.
Ahasra shook her head, “They don’t own the whole forest, remember? They got their tails kicked hard from The Raids and lost vital land - then one of their leaders, Doestars I think - approached during a famine and worked out a deal to keep her faction from dying.”
While she spoke, she walked her brother through the camp; angling straight forward towards the stretching expanse of woodland that connection their home to the wild cat’s. They passed through the main entrance where the walls of their home sloped upwards, bushes and vines hiding their ravine from the skies above. They nodded to the guards who made noises of acknowledgement, likely adding them to the mental list of cats that had left the camp for a head-count later.
As the trees grew thicker, the brush and foliage clumping together in the absence of warm ashen soil, an ever burning hearth and the constant movement from the cats that dwell there, smushing down plants as they tried to grow.
“This Neutral Stretch is technically territory of the Sun but given we don’t need it nearly as much as they do, we choose not to hunt or garden on it in good faith,” she explained, pointing her whiskers at a line of trees that had been clawed furiously leaving a massive marking in the shape of an X clearly visible for any passersby. “These trees mark where the Sun ends and the Prides begin - so long as we stay on the right side of these, we’ll be fine,”
Soŕi nodded - the story sounded familiar; it must’ve been an older one considering it wasn’t very fresh in him mind.
“Well in that case,” he drawled slinking towards his sister who regarded her curiously. He quickly shot out his paw, bapping her lightly on the shoulder before dancing away when she reflexively swiped at him, “Tag! You’re it!”
He darted off immediately, cackling to the protesting laughter of his sister claiming he was cheating. He managed to weave through the trees for a while successfully dodging her before Ahasra doubled-back on herself, batting him from around the corner of a thinner tree and taking off in the opposite direction. Soŕi immediately turned, unbothered by now being the chaser; only slightly chagrined by how easily his sister moved through this thicker wood. Their laughter echoed through the night woods as they darted about, only briefly illuminated by the beams of moonlight that thwarted the shadowy canopy sheltering them from the silver-flame of the night.
She finally started to slow down, catching her breath - an opportunity Soŕi immediately took advantage of by pouncing on her. She squealed joyously, playfully batting him as their game of tag instantly transitioned into a playful wrestling match. Soŕi was stronger than her outright but grasping his sister and giving her playful, lip covered bites was always difficult with how slippery she was. She managed to twisted from his grasp and danced away, giving him her side they usually do in training.
Their game was interrupted again when her tail smacked a branch and a squirrel came charging out, terrified and his sister immediately took off after it. Soŕi just flopped on his side, tail-tip twitching lazily as he watched her chase and corral the squirrel throughout the little stretch, stopping it from simply escaping but kept her claws sheathed so as not to accidentally harm it. It tried to give her the slip, scampering up a young tree, but his sister merely sprinted up the bark, claws easily dropping bits of moss and splinters to the ground below. She sprung from the tree when the squirrel tried to launch itself into a larger tree, her paw lashing out reflexively as she captured it in her mouth.
Ahasra landed easily on the ground, half-crouched with the squirrel visibly unharmed in her mouth. It squirmed and struggled to free-itself although he neither tasted nor scented copper in the air; proving it’s state.
“Nice catch,” Soŕi snorted, watching her raise her head proudly before walking to the clawed trees and releasing it from her mouth. The squirrel must’ve thought that the Skies Themselves were looking out for it because it stood there for a heartbeat, stunned before bolting for deeper brush. “That squirrel is going to tell his whole family how he was spared certain death from one of the Beasts.”
“A Beast of silver and of ambition,” she jested panting, padding over to sink down and lay beside him. She stretched out her neck, drawing her tongue over the rumpled fur of her brother lovingly. “By whom mercy was shown.”
Soŕi hummed to himself, enjoying the night breeze with his sister and the sense of peace he had with her. It was a bit odd to only have her at his side, not Adihikko as well on his other; curled up and chattering on and off to each other, the three of them inseparable since they’d first left the heirs den to be presented to the kingdom and coated in ash.
“...so how was Sumisiŕa?” he asked her casually.
“Not bad,” Ahasra admitted, though she seemed a bit reluctant to admit it if her pinna said anything. “He was very kind - a bit bored and spent most of it watching me carefully but well, he’s old enough to be our father so I’m not surprised.”
“Well at least he was survivable - now you’re a guardian.”
“Yeah and I’m going to be the best blazin’ guardian this kingdom has ever seen. How were the farms by the way? I’ve been meaning to take Ivin up for more training.”
“Mostly fine, there’s a hole in one of the pens and a certain artisan being a pain in the tail to them - I said we’d help with the hole after we sort out Onehura.”
“Mm, that tom is a real-” she stopped, her ears pricking at the crunching grass.
Soŕi sat up a little, listening to the cracking of twigs and dried grass; the sound of night birds being startled into flight while bushes rustled furiously. Soŕi and Ahasra pulled themselves together, crouching a bit and they watched studiously, ears twisting as they began to try narrowing down the direction of the sound.
Soŕi tensed his muscles at the same time as a pair of angry yowls range out from the trees, disturbing the night air.
He dodged left, avoiding the swipe of an aggressive brown kit that sprung from the bushes that landed where he previously was. He hissed aggressively in response arching his back with flattened ears. The tom attacked him again and Soŕi rolled quickly out of the way, catching his sister battling the second cat - a pale cream molly - just as furiously as he was.
He refocused then, swiping at the brown tom’s face furiously with bared teeth. They growled at each other, the tom once more acting on the aggressive as it swiped at him. Soŕi tried to dodge left again but felt teeth in his scruff as he was grabbed and yanked by the larger kit.
“Mrooow!” he shrieked.
Ahasra heard him and Soŕi managed to catch her biting down on the molly’s paw making her shriek in pain. The next thing he knew, Soŕi was tumbling free of the tom’s mouth as she promptly pummeled him, using the momentum of her attack to send the brown tom sprawling. The ginger tom immediately took advantage, rushing in and snapping his teeth around the tom’s defenseless tail and dragged him back; away from his sister as she re-engaged with the molly who was now favoring her left front paw. Soŕi finally pounced upon the tom, sinking his claws into the brown tabby’s shoulder; letting him yowl his pain even as he used his other paw to press firmly into his throat, preventing him from getting up.
He panted glancing towards his sister who also already had her opponent pinned, a paw pressed firmly into her face; using the full extent of her weight and the fact the molly’s front paw was too injured to bat herself free with.
“Who are you?” Soŕi snarled, at the tom beneath his paws, the fur of his spine still standing on edge.
“What is going on here!”
Soŕi looked up, his ears pinning more firmly against his head at the sight of three adult cats striding from the dark of the woods, the moonlight illuminating them clearly. The largest was a short furred and visibly muscular molly, knicks across her body with piecing blue eyes locked on them. It took everything in him to flinch instinctively from the sight of the oversized teeth resting in her powerful looking jaws, poking out from her lips leaving her jaw lightly parted. To her right was a long furred white tom with a feathery belly and slowly swishing tail and on her left was a smaller, hissing tortoiseshell with a vibrantly red tail; raised high in the air fully bristled with rage.
“Who are you?” Ahasra growled, spines flapping a bit with discomfort.
“Mottletail help!” the tom beneath him cried.
“Release them!” the tortie demanded.
The furred molly seemed far calmer than her companions, her eyes sliding calmly across the scene before her. Soŕi noted she seemed to scrutinize their collar, flicking her ear with intrigue though her face was impassive.
“...you are cats of the Shining Sun,” the molly noted, her tone full observational without a hint of reproach or aggression. Another breeze stirred up and the scent of chamomile and something distinctly earthy touching his tongue.
“Pride cats,” Ahasra voiced disdainfully, her nose twitching - no doubt she too picked up the scent.
“Release our cadets,” the tortoiseshell demanded once more.
“Your ‘cadets’ attacked us on neutral land,” Ahasra hissed. “Why should we?”
“The forest-“ the tom began only to be interrupted by a motion from the blue molly.
“She’s right,” the molly informed her the tortoiseshells who seemed alarmed. She motioned behind her to the line of trees that the two ‘cadets’ had crossed to attack Ahasra and Soŕi making both the other adult cats wince, their muscles unwinding on the spot. “I can forgive their ignorance given this is their first night out as cadets but Chaffinchpaw and Wrenpaw may have caused a diplomatic incident.”
Soŕi’s tail swished slowly, the cadets not knowing that they were on neutral land changed things a bit, “Now, it doesn’t have to come to all that. So long as your cadets don’t attack us again, this doesn’t have to be anything more than a misunderstanding.”
“Of course.”
Soŕi looked at the tom beneath him, feeling his pulse racing beneath his paws as if worried he’d go back on their unofficial deal. He sheathed his claws and folded his tail-fins in, sliding his paw to the forest floor from his throat and released him. Wrenpaw scrambled to his paws, ears flat and tail between his legs as he darted for the tortoiseshell. The pale one - Chaffinchpaw he presumed, it made the most sense - limped her way to the long furred white tom. Ahasra padded over to her brother, sniffing him over to make sure he only minimally injured before sitting beside him.
“I do apologize for this whole mess,” the powerful molly remarked, drawing their attention back to her. She dipped her head, revealing a pale mark on her forehead that Soŕi had initially assumed was just the collection of stripes upon a cat but now he could see it, there was one large stripe in the center with four smaller ones creating spoke off from it on either side like a sunrise. “I am Sumta Asterdawn, Brastilion of the Stormborn.”
She motioned to the tortoiseshell and then the white tom, “This is my lieutenant, Mottletail and my head of hunting; Callastorm.”
“... I am Ahasra,” his sister introduced herself and Soŕi’s whiskers twitched a bit at her choosing not to give their kin-names or their titles like these faction-cats offered.
Good, Soŕi thinks to himself. We don’t know who’s listening.
“I’m her brother, My name is Soŕi - and as you know, we’re members of the Kingdom of the Shining Sun.”
They sat in silence for a short moment, a bit of awkwardness from the situation remaining as the adults checked on their cadets before focusing back on Soŕi and his sister.
“You both are very skilled fighters,” Callastorm voiced eventually, choosing to begin grooming his chest in an attempt to start alleviating the tension from the air. Now that Soŕi was looking closer, he could see that the tom’s chest was a mixture of fur and feathers, heavier on the side of the feathers; all sleek and blending together.
“Thank you,” Ahasra said, nodding in gratitude. “Soŕi’s the real fighter though. His battle instincts tend to outshine my self-taught skills.”
Soŕi ducked his head, slightly embarrassed by his sister’s praise.
“You are rather skilled yourself however,” Asterdawn noted, nodding to Ahasra. “The control you showed when pursing the squirrel without harming it was impressive.”
So she was watching the whole encounter.
Ahasra flicked her ear, dipping her head in thanks for the praise and started licking the scratches that were likely itching as badly under her pelt as the ones on Soŕi.
“Your cadets were good too,” Soŕi decided to offer. Yes, he and his sister had defeated them but they were talented - especially if the Sumta meant what she said about it being their first time out as cadets. He figures that ‘cadets’ were cats in training and for these cats to only have a couple of day’s worth of training as most, they’d held up fairly well. He motioned to Callastorm and Mottletail, “I assume you both are their tutors?”
“Yes,” agreed Callastorm, gesturing to pale molly. “I am Chaffinchpaw’s mentor and Mottletail is Wrenpaw’s.”
“They’re impressive,” praised Ahasra. “We’ve been training for about a moon now and they’re rather powerful.”
“How old are you both?” Asterdawn asked curiously. “I did not think you were that old.”
“We’re not,” said Ahasra. “Just six moons.”
“That’s… young,” Mottletail said slowly, looking over the two cats with concern.
“We’re scrappy,” said Ahasra with a simple flick of her tail. “And most of our training is self-defense.”
Callastorm hummed, “Sorry for our prodding. Kits of the factions start their training at six moons old. Special exceptions are rare.”
“What happens if they’re attacked before then?”
“Kits under six moons aren’t allowed to leave our camp unattended so they have legionaries to look out for them.”
“And if your camp is attacked?”
Callastorm smirked, “The attackers regret it.”
The siblings released a pair of laughs, exchanging an amused look with each other.
“So what do you legionaries do?” Ahasra asked him, pinnae flapping. “Beyond protecting kits and picking fights that is.”
The cadets shuffled looking embarrassed to be mentioned again even as the adults laughed quietly around them, not looking the slightest bit offended.
“Everything,” answered Asterdawn in good humor. “Legionaries are the blood of a faction - defending cats unable to defend themselves, gathering food for the rest of the faction, creating tools and acquiring resources for the camp to defend ourselves.”
“Ah,” said Soŕi glancing at his sister with a nod. “Like an enforcer then.”
“Enforcers?” Mottletail echoed. “Are they your faction’s legionaries?”
“Kind of,” asserted Soŕi. “Enforcers are a type of guardian. They perform general tasks - mostly they act as guard to the heir’s den or the kingdom entrance, escort visitors and fend off smaller predators.”
“The heir’s den?” Wrenpaw blurted out, his curiosity overwhelming his desire to say silent.
“Leadership in the Sky Kingdoms is inherited by blood,” The Sumta informed him, glancing to Chaffinchpaw in turn. “You will learn more when you enter lecturers but the important thing to know is that when the leader of the Skies has a litter, the eldest is the one who will inherit the faction - the inheritance works from eldest to youngest.”
“Here in the Shining Sun, it’s the eldest daughter,” Ahasra chimed in, drawing attention back. “The eldest daughter is the crown heiress and it passes down from the eldest daughter to the youngest. When there are none left or a litter doesn’t have daughters, it becomes eldest to youngest son.”
“And there’s a specific guard for it?” Chaffinchpaw asked, sounding slightly bewildered.
“Have to be prepared for assassins,” said Soŕi, flicking his ear.
The two cadets nodded, returning to silence as their questions were answered; seeming satisfied to continue listening.
“So how big is your faction?” Soŕi inquired of Asterdawn curiously.
“Reasonably sized - out territory can support us.”
“How many factions are there?”
“Four - you weren’t aware?”
Ahasra snorted, “A few cats have tried to get a count but you akyeedaan have been so aggressive lately no one’s been able to get a count and keep their pinna. You’re honestly the first of your lot to be seen in a few moons.”
The Sumta winced, exchanging a look with her lieutenant and head hunter uneasily. Soŕi supposes they must’ve only just realized how much they’d isolated themselves from the other societies.
“On behalf of all four factions, I sincerely apologize,” Sumta Asterdawn said. “It’s been a difficult season for us and we’ve been more on edge than usual. I especially apologize if my faction in particular has caused any grievances.”
“No lasting harm done,” chuckled Ahasra. “We’ve honestly considered poking around to see if you’re alive in there.”
“… so what does your faction usually eat?” Soŕi probed.
“You’re very interested in our faction,” remarked Whitestom, watching him with curiosity.
Soŕi ducked his head again, a bit sheepish at being called out while his sister laughed, prodding him lightly with amusement.
“Yeah Soŕi’s always been interested in faction-life, he used to keep ukaŕa up for hours begging for him to tell us stories about the factions,” she said fondly.
The Sumta straightened, eyeing them curiously with a sharper gaze, “Your father was a faction cat?”
“No - ukaŕa was a member of the Sun; he was just a wanderer,” Soŕi explained.
“Still if you’re so interested…” The Sumta mused to herself, seeming to be thinking over an idea she’d had. A moment later she nodded firmly, glancing up at him, “Would you like to become a cadet of the Stormborn?”
“What?” demanded Chaffinchpaw as the cadets leapt to their paws.
“My Storm, farm-kitties can’t be legionaries,” Mottletail protested immediately. “They don’t have legionary blood!”
“What’s blood got to do with it?” Ahasra demanded defensively.
“Legionary blood is a way of life, the way of Bravesoul - living life the way it was meant to be, you have to live and breathe our way of life, the soft life of the kingdoms prevents a cat from developing it,” Mottletail recited, puffing up a bit with pride alongside the cadets.
“If you think kingdom-life is easy, I would like to introduce you to goat herding,” Ahasra hissed.
“Regardless,” Soŕi intervened before his sister could try to tear the tom a new one. “That’s a big decision to make in one night. And if your legionaries are so against it, what’s the point in offering?”
“...the truth, the Stormborn needs more legionaries.” Callastorm intoned softly, as if pained to admit such a fact aloud. “Daihiim was ruthless and ilkiim offered us no new kits. We’re short on paws and that means we can’t afford to be choosy.”
He glanced to Mottletail who seemed to be ready to make another case against them explaining, “When we beg the Souls for more legionaries, we can’t be picky about the ones they send.”
The tortie looked him in the eyes for a moment then sighed, averting his gaze.
“How about this,” The Sumta broached, drawing the eyes of clearing back to herself. “Take three sunrises to think about this and on the third, you can return with your decision.”
He glanced at his sister to see what she made of the deal. To his surprise, she nodded looking satisfied with the offer of time so he turned his attention back to the blue leader, “Sure.”
A yawn split his jaws directly after he answered - in saying that, it was like all the excess energy evaporated from him, the prickling sensation beneath his coat dying in the wind and suddenly he was aware of the fact that he’d been awake far longer than he intended. His sister mirrored him, likely exhausted from having her sleep interrupted followed by a scuffle and tense if short conversation.
“Well, that’s our cue to be on our way,” Ahasra said, drawing her tongue over her muzzle sleepily. “Ashaaba akyeedaan - see you in three sunrises.”
| | | |
“As I said sir, I understand and acknowledge your concerns, but your demand is entirely unreasonable.”
Soŕi was exhausted, he and his sister had slept in late as a result of their late night adventure. The rest of their siblings had been kind enough to let them sleep, but their mother had noticed their absence and after dismissing them, stormed into the heir’s den to confront them. As soon as she caught the scent of the forest on them, she snapped; scolding them for what felt like forever over not being careful enough and fretting over his sister who seemed to grow more agitated by the second. Though their mother had marched them right to the healer’s den when she realized they had cuts, they still itched like ants and his muscles were even sorer than they’d been before. To top off the awful situation before him, Vrayashu must’ve poured more warmth into his flame than usual because the hot fire of the sky bore down on him cruelly, making him wish dearly he was with Hreto, watching the duck farmers and potentially swimming.
As it was, he stood before one of their less reasonable toms, trying to explain for the umpteenth time why it simply made no sense to place entire guard squads around his thrice-scorched chickens!
“Clearly you don’t!” spat the brown tom with raised hackles, that had Soŕi reminding himself that it wasn’t appropriate for a prince to smack a farmer. “There’ve been reports of Havoc’s Cult in the area and I want my chickens protected! I run two chicken pens so if I would to quit, this kingdom would feel it!”
No it wouldn’t, Soŕi thought barely restraining the urge to roll his eyes. The kingdom would just reallocate the space to the other farmers or give a new pen to a chicken farmer.
“As I’ve tried to explain to you sir, as hard as this is to accept; your chickens are replaceable, our lives are not. Xibo is responsible for all the enforcers in the kingdom and the safety of our territory as a whole - I cannot and will not reassign her to watch your pens full-time.”
“Replaceable?” the tom scoffed. “Chickens are very difficult to raise!”
No they’re not, Soŕi refrained from saying. You feed them, let them sleep in the boxes overnight and release them in the morning. The gardeners struggle more.
“Look,” Soŕi said, trying his most reasonable voice. “The squires have already been assigned to monitor the ducks. If you truly believe your chickens are at risk, as the duck monitors if they’ll let you share the area.”
“What if those ducks attack my chickens?”
“Chickens and ducks get along just fine,” Soŕi sighed. “At most you may end up with a chick-duck.”
The tom paused, processing this information as if it was something serious. Soŕi should’ve known - this bastard had probably just been trying to angle for more allocation than he already had. All the same, he was relieved when the stubborn tom gave a firm statement of, “fine” and stomped off - presumably to harass other cats.
Soŕi relaxed his muscles, dropping his head in exhaustion as his sister approached; Ahasra seeming every bit as tired as he was. The silvery bengal stretched out her neck and pressed her cheek to his flank tiredly, earning a lick from Soŕi between her ears tiredly.
“Rough time?” she asked, stifling a yawn.
“Yes,” he said tiredly. “Oyanra is demanding we assign Xibo to permanently look out for his chickens.”
“...what?”
“That is the conversation I’ve had since the sun’s fire was at its hottest.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He just sighed, unwilling to continue thinking about Oyanra any more than he had to.
“What about you?” he asked. “I know you were with Sumisiŕa again.”
“Mm,” she agreed, pulling her head away to stretch forward, popping her muscles. “I’ve mostly been avoiding Aror - that tom’s been following me around like a lost duckling.”
“Oh, poor cat,” Soŕi couldn’t help but laugh, earning a slight grin from his sister. Ahasra’s inclinations were well-known to everyone in the Shining Sun by this point, but sometimes, visitors took one look at his pretty sister and tried to bring her to them, unaware that she preferred silver to bronze. “You always draw the warmest colors.”
“Truly it’s a curse,” she sighed dramatically.
“Yeah, attractive toms wanting your attention - how utterly dreadful.”
She nipped at him then darted off as he chased her laughing into the main clearing.
| | | |
“What do you think?”
Soŕi had told the rest of his siblings about the offer as soon as he had the opportunity to. He’d agonized over the pros and cons with Ahasra in secret as best as hey could in between their duties but they hadn’t come to anything on their own. It was for the best he figures - his older brother and sisters were very intelligent and far better as weighing things like this. It also ensured that they had a heads-up - unlike Adihikko and he had a chance to say goodbye. They wouldn’t sell him out to their mother either while he was still debating and Asha had even volunteered to be the one breaking the news after he’d left.
They’d all sprawled out in their den, legs and tails crossing over each other in a tangled mess of limbs. He shook his head as Ahasra’s tongue swiped furiously behind his ears and flexed the claws in his right paw turning his attention to Isaŕia.
His eldest sister was constantly busy and was the subject of their mother’s attention - it made sense really. As the eldest, she was probably privy to things about their family situation that Iyeŕa wouldn’t let slip if her mouth was pried open by force. His sister had additional lessons and training to prepare her to take her rightful place as queen of the Shining Sun in addition to loving and adoring her younger siblings, only wanting what was best for them.
So he watched her carefully as she thought over the offer from the faction cats.
“… I say… you should go.”
“Really?” Soŕi asked her with surprise.
“You’ve always been more interested in the forest than the rest of us,” Isaŕia remarked, her pinna rippling as she stared at something unseen. “If you give up and come home that would be sad- but I think you’d regret not trying even more than failing.”
“She’s right,” said Hreto. “Your eyes have always drifted towards the treeline rather than staying in the kingdom.”
“If you don’t join the factions, I can see you as a messenger,” agreed Asha. “You’ve always been more interested in things far away rather than the things here.”
“So that’s it then,” Soŕi said determinedly. “I’ll go.”
Ahasra pressed her face into his neck.
“I’m gonna miss you.”
“I won’t be far,” he told her as the rest of his sisters and brother snuggled closer to him as well. “I’ll see you guys at the Neutral Stretch okay!”
And he hunkered down enjoying the feeling of his siblings pressed around him for the last time.
---
The Flora of Strelles
Ashweed - A small, delicate stemmed flower with rosy red petals that grows in the ashes of fire and possesses a faint but fragrant scent, they’re very commonly found in the sky kingdoms but only bloom in the wake of forest fires elsewhere; they’re used often in the kingdoms in pest-repellent pelt-rubs; other names are Sun Poppies, Hearthflowers
Silvermint - A short, dainty stemmed plant with three leaved tops that heavily resembles common clover that release an alluring but sharp scent that some cats describe as ‘cold.’ It’s a hardier bred version of catmint and although it’s not as strong, it’s a life-savior when frost kills off the catmint and chest infections are flying around. Silvermint is also a common ingredient in pest-repellent pelt rubs, preferred in the Sun and Star kingdoms over sharpweed.
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Kingdom Translations
Hranihretok ya || I’m happy/pleased for you (lit. I am warmed by you)
Yekiyai || Thank you (informal)
Akyeedaan || Clan cats, clan born
Ashaaba || Good night, an informal farewell (lit. moon leave)
Clan Translations
Dahiimm || Winter, (lit. sealed eye)
Ilkimm || Spring (lit. gentle eye)
Story Notes
Prefers silver to bronze || The sky kingdoms base assumed gender on coat color. Red and other warm colors are assumed to be masculine while silver and other cool colors are feminine. So basically, “prefers women to men” aka, Ahasra is a lesbian
First Night Out does not mean ‘completely fresh’ apprentice, it means ‘first time they’re allowed to participate in night training’
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