Dark Forest residences: Myrtlewing & Alderstar
Aliases / Nicknames: Two-headed ghost, Two-headed demon, Demon of the forest, Grinner, The Grinner, Monster, The Pine Forest Butcher(s), The Pine Forest Killer(s), Freak, Myrtle, Oslo, Kittypet, Housecat, Puny, Tumblefeet, Fleabrain
Family: Blacksong (mother), Graydusk (uncle)
Other relations: Hickoryskip (mentor)
Characteristics: targets based on mood, experiments on victims, often kills alongside partner
Murder Method: torture, poisoning, mutilation, blinding
Known Victims: Birchcloud, Blossomtuft, Owlfang, Wolfburn, Fernpaw, Boulderpaw, Waspheart, Mossflake, Pineshade, Maplefall, Pricklepelt, Bluefeather, Stormstar, Ivytooth, Cedarsky, Fleetsong, Echofoot, several unknown loners
Cause of Death: decapitation
Cautionary Tale: So close as he was to his partner in crime, tales of their acts were told as one cat. Sometimes it was a cat with two heads, other times it was a demon that would morph into both medicine cat and leader. Mothers warn their kits that if they ever hear a cry while wandering the forest at night, don’t go towards it. It’s the sound of victims long past, their voices-- their cries--stolen by the healer and leader to be used as a siren to lure their next prey.
Myrtlekit was a runt. If he ever forgot about it, the older kits were quick to remind him. They would keep him out of their games, and whenever he begged to play, they would make it torture. When they played moss-ball, they would either hit him directly, or purposefully keep it from him due to his puny size.
His mother was always quick to defend him, sometimes scaring the kits long enough for them to play nicely for a day. It wasn’t anything extreme, but a warrior can always terrify a young kit, especially when those kits shoved her child into the mud.
Myrtlekit didn’t know who his dad was, if they were even Shadowclan, but it didn’t matter much. If he needed a male role model in his life, he had Graydusk, his mother’s brother, who seemed to visit the nursery every day since Myrtlekit had been born, playing with him and Blacksong when the other kits refused.
Myrtlekit had once thought he would move up in the ‘kit rank’ when a new kit was born, premature and therefore much smaller than Myrtlekit (although now he was already getting bigger). Myrtlekit had pulled all the mean tricks on Fleetkit as were pulled on him. But it didn’t last long, because apparently being one of the bully’s cousin meant Fleetkit was off-limits for teasing, even if he was so puny. It was completely unfair!
When the older kits became apprentices, they laid off Myrtlekit, too focused now with “being the best warrior.” At least, Myrtlekit thought they were, until Owlpaw had wrestled him to the ground for “daring” to scare Fleetkit with a dead spider-- as if Owlpaw hadn’t done the exact same thing to him!
With the closest cats his age training or off-limits, Myrtlekit’s interest in playing dwindled. One night, while awake grumbling, he overheard a patrol arriving. He peaked out of the nursery to see one of them heavily injured. Overwhelmed with interest, he snuck to watch as Hickoryskip, the medicine cat, fixed the wound.
He leaned forward when the she-cat flinched from Hickoryskip’s touch, or when she grimaced as he applied an herb mixture into her injury. When Hickoryskip had noticed him, he had advised him to go back to Blacksong. Myrtlekit simply responded by announcing his decision to be a medicine cat.
Before he knew it, cats were thanking him! For the smallest things, too! Pulling out a thorn, stopping hiccups. Even Owlpaw had become impressed with his skill. It took awhile for him to memorize things, working night and day, but the only one that needed to know that was Hickoryskip.
The trips to the Moonstone were boring. He had been excited to meet Starclan in the beginning, but the meetings were always the same. Some shadowy figure shaking their head before turning their back on the apprentice and leaving them in the dark. Sometimes there was the scent of blood.
Funnily enough, it wasn’t until Myrtlewing was close to earning his full name did he even fully interact with Aldereyes. They were in the nursery together for a short time, but Myrtlekit had been too young to remember, and at the time, Alderkit didn’t much care.
It was when Myrtlewing was healing a wound on Aldereyes’s shoulder. Aldereyes had complained about slipping up in battle and allowing his opponent to give him such a blow. Myrtlewing surprised him by jokingly suggesting he bursts the opponent’s shoulder open on a rock next battle to make it even. He thought all medicine cats were pacifists.
He found himself talking with the warrior more and more. Apparently no one agreed with such horrific methods of revenge as the healer. Ironic.
One day it clicked. Myrtlewing had talked so often about hurting and killing others, jokes mostly, but he never actually thought about doing it. He got to thinking. He wan an expert in herbs. He knew what could heal, what could kill. What could make them writhe, foam at the mouth, claw at the ground and choke.
Why not several? Foxglove to stop the heart, hemlock to strain the heart and lungs, and deathberry, just to be sure they die. He stored them at the back of his herb storage, hidden in the crevices.
He tried not to chuckle as he gave Fleetsong the herbs. The tom has arrived for a bellyache. Myrtlewing acted to treat him, hiding small doses of holly berries in his medicine, which would ensure that his bellyache only got worse. Death would be least expected as foulplay that way. A bellyache and death the same day? How about stretching it, making it worse, making their Clanmates ask is he going to be alright? He’s not going to die, is he?
He knew Fleetsong was a good cat. He never seemed to hold Myrtlewing’s old bullying against him. He was only a test, to see if Myrtlewing could really kill someone and live with it. He just happened to be the next cat to walk into his den. But it was funny. Owlfang had tried to protect his little cousin from Myrtlewing so many times. This time, when it actually mattered, he had no idea Myrtlewing had done anything wrong at all.
To answer the question, yes, he could live with it. In fact, he was itching to kill again. But he didn’t want to poison them this time. It wasn’t as.... thrilling. He wanted to claw at their flesh, bite into their throat....
But he didn’t want to get caught.
One night, he saw a chance and took it. He followed elder Bluefeather into the forest. The old cat had gone to the stream for a drink. He was so grey and weak, and so easy to hold down beneath the surface. A horrible accident, everyone thought. But he was really old. He was known to stumble.
But Myrtlewing’s teeth were still free from blood. He hated the feeling. The lack of red-stained teeth, the squirting against his tongue. He had yet to be caught. And so long as his scent wasn’t there, who would suspect him? One stormy dawn, he jumped Waspheart while the tom was hunting on his own, and, with little fighting experience, decided to rip his throat out before the tom could defend himself.
But he was foolish enough to miss that Waspheart had not been hunting on his own. Aldereyes and Fallendust were with him.
Myrtlewing’s heart had dropped. But before he could flee the scene, Aldereyes turned on Fallendust, snapping her neck quickly.
The pair stood there, both shocked, neither able to believe what the warrior had just done. Then Aldereyes began to dig into the ground, hissing at Myrtlewing to hurry his tail and help. It seemed the medicine cat had found himself a partner in crime.
Clanmates were going “missing” left and right. Sometimes they were able to set up an “accident,” other times there wasn’t much of a body left to set up. Why yes, Myrtlewing would go to the Moonstone and asks Starclan what was happening. And by that he meant attacking loners in the field. It was great there, so far from Clan territory, from help coming to the rescue. Of course he would need company on such a long journey. Good thing Aldereyes was always willing.
In private, they shared strong laughs when Aldereyes became deputy. It was a position that meant the Clan trusted them so much, that he would one day become leader.
After many moons, their luck had turned for the worst. Perhaps it was their use to killing that made them sloppy, but Alderstar had been caught once while alone. Angered, the Clan chased him from the territory. They had not caught Myrtlewing, let alone knew he had anything to do with it, but the medicine cat left anyway in search of the only cat he considered his friend. His mother and uncle were fine enough, but nothing in comparison.
But he was too late. He found Alderstar dead beneath a fallen tree, struck down by lightning. Claw marks in the earth showed that it had not been quick. Were his lives taken one after another? Reliving the crushing weight? The bloody coughs?
Myrtlewing wanted to slaughter every last of their Clanmates. If they hadn’t chased Alderstar out, he would still be alive!
Returning to the territory, he pounced on Fernpaw, the newest apprentice. What did it matter that she was with her mentor? Myrtlewing didn’t care anymore. She was still breathing when her furious mentor chased Myrtlewing into Twolegplace, but her wounds would surely kill her within the day.
Aimlessly wandering the streets, he had been picked up by a Twoleg and given a weird collar. He lived that way for several moons, sleeping on the strange bedding, slashing anyone who tried to pick a fight.
One day, he slashed the wrong cat. Guess the claw-studded collar should have been a hint. Several more cats with the same look leaped for him. Myrtlewing was fast, he learned to be, but what good is speed when your head is trapped in a metal-twined fence, with a starving dog on the other side?
Aliases / Nicknames: The wicked star, Two-headed Demon, Two-headed ghost, The Pine Forest Butcher(s), The Pine Forest Killer(s), Skunkhead, Ghostbreath, Monster
Family: Sweettree (mother), Stormstar (father), Hollyclaw (half-sister)
Other relations: Molespots (mentor), Runningcloud (apprentice), Beetleflight (apprentice)
Characteristics: experiments on victims, often kills alongside partner
Murder Method: torture, mutilation, blinding
Known Victims: Birchcloud, Blossomtuft, Owlfang, Boulderpaw, Waspheart, Mossflake, Pineshade, Maplefall, Pricklepelt, Bluefeather, Ivytooth, Cedarsky, Echofoot, Fallendust, Tanglepaw, several unknown loners
Cautionary Tale: So close as he was to his partner in crime, tales of their acts were told as one cat. Sometimes it was a cat with two heads, other times it was a demon that would morph into both medicine cat and leader. Mothers warn their kits that if they ever hear a cry while wandering the forest at night, don’t go towards it. It’s the sound of victims long past, their voices-- their cries--stolen by the healer and leader to be used as a siren to lure their next prey.
When Alderkit was told that his father was the leader of his Clan, he was overwhelmed with excitement. What an honour! But Stormstar’s visits, rare to begin with, occurred less and less.
It turned out that Hollykit, older by a couple moons, was the leader’s kit as well, who he had with Shimmerstone– not Sweettree, Alderkit’s mother.
When Hollykit became Hollypaw and moved out of the nursery, Stormstar’s visits almost stopped altogether, and Alderkit realized it had never been him that he had been visiting.
But he still had his mother, whose love was more than enough to make up for ten lost fathers. But she had gotten incredibly sick since giving birth to him, and succumbed to illness shortly before he became an apprentice himself.
He had expected at least one word of comfort from his father, but Stormstar only solemnly announced the passing to the Clan, giving sympathy to the now motherless kit as though he were someone else’s problem entirely.
Hollypaw offered to teach him basic moves before he earned his own name. Alderkit was grateful for the distraction, but he knew that Hollypaw didn’t truly care, she was only acting on the wishes of her mother.
Without a parental figure in his life, his only playmates either too busy with training or too young to do anything interesting, and the elders only ever complaining about ticks or gossiping about Stormstar’s affair, there was nothing for Alderkit to do.
A couple times he had asked the warriors to play, or maybe train him, but they were either too tired, too busy, or not bothered at all. It came to the point where Alderkit’s favourite hobby was sleeping in the far corner of the nursery. At least in his dreams he could play with his mother.
He supposed he should’ve been happy when he became an apprentice. But the only other trainee was Hollypaw, who was mentored by Stormstar. They trained together constantly. Never once was Alderpaw allowed to do anything with his mentor alone.
He didn’t want to feel disgusted, but he couldn’t help it. Always seeing Stormstar’s affection for his daughter, the way he praised her, the way he ignored him– except to ridicule.
And when Stormstar ridiculed, Alderpaw’s own mentor never stepped in, never came to his defense. Was he too afraid to argue with the leader? Or did he think that Alderpaw deserved it for daring to not be as advanced in training as the cat that had been an apprentice for two more moons? It felt as though they were playing a trick on him, thinking it would be funny to always have him around the little happy family.
When Hollyclaw became a warrior, Alderpaw’s mentor expressed relief, claiming how glad he was that he could finally focus all attention on his own apprentice. What a dumb excuse. The leader made him do it? Please! Stormstar hadn’t cared for him since the day he was born. Would he really bother to train with his ‘son?’ Or did he just want to watch as his daughter pummelled the mistake into the earth?
By the time new apprentices were made, Alderpaw was far too old to train with them. He didn’t much care to, either. He could flip those kits off their paws in one move.
Having been desperate to prove himself, Alderpaw got up extra early, went to bed extra late. He trained day and night whether or not there was a mentor there to guide him. Hollyclaw would occasionally help. Their relationship wasn’t the most firm, or even the most comprehensible, but it was a lot nicer working with her when it was just the two siblings.
Now, Aldereyes was one of the strongest and most skilled warriors in his Clan. He received many praises, but they always felt so empty. “Nice catch!” “Nice move!” “Nice dodge!” they were all the same. Sympathies were, too. “You almost had him.” “We’ll get them next time.” “You tried your best.” It was the same thing any cat would say to any Clanmate that made a general mistake or achievement. There was nothing deeper about it.
Perhaps that is why he was so intrigued by the medicine cat, Myrtlewing, when the skinnier tom had suggested slicing his opponent’s shoulder open. It was such a strange thing for a healer to say. Even more, it was a strange thing for anyone to say to Aldereyes.
Myrtlewing had smiled as he said it, eyes bright while he applied a poultice to the wound on Aldereyes’s shoulder. His tone was light. He was joking. Or…. there was something in his gaze that pulled Aldereyes’s interest ever further.
Whatever it was, he was joking with Aldereyes. A dark joke, too. He didn’t bother with pleasantries, with being professional even though he and Aldereyes had rarely spoken before. It wasn’t the civil but distant conversations he had with…. maybe everyone else.
Not wanting the good feeling to stop, he quickly agreed, talking about how he would surprise his opponent and push them toward a sharp stone, making sure to chuckle so that Myrtlewing knew that he was joking, too.
He was disappointed when the medicine cat moved on to the next patient. Several days, almost a moon passed before Aldereyes received another injury. His first thought wasn’t that he was hurt, that he had slipped up, that he should go to the medicine den and heal. His first thought was to go to the medicine den and complain with Myrtlewing, who would surely offer methods of revenge.
Sure enough, that is what they did. They joked about different ways they could get the new opponent back, and the conversation shifted easily to their lives. Not the “how was your day?” and not the “good hunt?” but the “so did a bee sting your face or do you always look like that in the morning?”
It was good. It was easy. It was real.
Soon enough Aldereyes didn’t bother with an excuse of injury or bellyache. He came to know Myrtlewing’s schedule. He would take a short break mid-day unless an emergency occurred, and during this time it became a habit for Aldereyes to bring him a meal for the pair to share while they talked. And when an emergency prevented this, the second Myrtlewing got a break, he would be the one to bring food to Aldereyes.
It was one of these talks, so ordinary, that Aldereyes spoke for the very first time about how he felt. He spoke about how his mother died when he was young, how his father only cared about his half-sister, about how invisible he always felt for so long.
Myrtlewing listened patiently, eyes sympathetic. He told Aldereyes that he didn’t know who his father was. Then he went on to say that any cat that abandoned their child should have their throat slit.
Anyone else would panic. Someone threatening the leader? A medicine cat threatening the leader? A medicine cat saying something so violent?
But Aldereyes was well-used to it by now. He wasn’t offended, either. If Stormstar was just another warrior, would anyone really care about what that old fool had to say? Aldereyes was swift to respond that they would have to take the whole head off if they don’t want him coming back.
The last cat Aldereyes expected Stormstar to choose as his deputy after the previous one retired was himself. And was that pride in Stormstar’s eyes as he announced it as well? His suspicion would shortly be confirmed when Stormstar told him, not Holly, how proud he was of the warrior he had become.
As if that would change anything!
He accepted the position. Why wouldn’t he? Everyone congratulated him, telling him how right he was for the job, how he was the greatest warrior in the Clan. But the only praise that meant anything was Myrtlewing’s. He could see the pride– real pride, not whatever Stormstar was selling– in his friend’s eye. He could see the genuine twitch in his smile.
When he saw Myrtlewing, standing in the tiny clearing, with Waspheart dangling from his teeth, time froze. Was Myrtlewing, the only cat that ever cared for Aldereyes and the only cat Aldereyes ever cared for– a monster?
Fallendust was hissing beside him, saying how Myrtlewing was a traitor, how he should be brought back before Stormstar and killed.
Killed… No. Aldereyes couldn’t lose the one Clanmate that meant anything. Not to death, not to anything. Barely thinking, quick as a flash, he sank his own teeth into Fallendust’s throat, refusing to let go as she gurgled against him.
Even Myrtlewing, the murderer, stared in amazment as Aldereyes blindly began to dig.
How could he do it? He killed an innocent Clanmate! He didn’t say anything to Myrtlewing as they dug their Clanmates, as they washed off in the stream, as they padded back to the camp and to their separate dens.
It was while Aldereyes laid awake did he begin to wonder: did he care? Should his heart be racing? Should his mind be spiraling? Was it only because he should feel guilty that he believed he was? The next day, while he was assigning patrols– making sure to ask where Waspheart and Fallendust were– Myrtlewing joined him, giving him a plump squirrel, and thanking him for his help ‘collecting herbs.’
That was their alibi: Waspheart, Fallendust, and Aldereyes were on a patrol when they ran into Myrtlewing, who needed help carrying catmint. Aldereyes offered, and that’s when they split off from the group. The two hung out all the time at this point, it wasn’t unusual for Aldereyes to help the medicine cat collect herbs or for Myrtlewing to aid the deputy in a hunt.
Looking back at him, Aldereyes realized that he didn’t regret what he did. Aldereyes would kill 1000 of their Clanmates before he let Stormstar–or anyone– touch a hair on Myrtlewing’s shoulders. Sinking his teeth into the squirrel, letting blood lap his tongue just as Fallen’s had, maybe that idea wasn’t so bad.
In private, Myrtlewing admitted to killing other Clanmates before Waspheart. Aldereyes was uplifted that Myrtlewing trusted him so much. Aldereyes admitted worry. What if he was caught? But Myrtlewing calmed him. Who would dare go against their medicine cat and leader?
It was so subtle, but Aldereyes understood better than if he could read Myrtlewing’s mind. They waited a long time for an opportunity to present itself. It finally came when a storm broke out, and Stormstar decided to hunt on his own so that his Clanmates wouldn’t have to. Everyone so busy keeping dens in place or hiding out, no one would notice the two slip away. No one did.
The rock was round, sharpened on one edge. Being the more muscular one, Aldereyes pushed it up the hill. There was a steep drop on the other side. That’s where Stormstar would be. Myrtlewing held the enraged leader down. He was stronger than Aldereyes gave him credit for. No matter how much he kicked and squirmed, his head was held firmly where the rock fell. Their timing was perfect, it cut across Stormstar right where the sharpest part was.
Splitting of bone, the cut-off shriek, the tearing of skin. It all made Aldereyes quiver with energy. Stormstar lay unmoving. His skull was flattened, cut nearly in half on the lower part of his head. His eye popped out, leaking slightly onto his nose– which was technically still attached to his muzzle, at least partly. Through the cut, layers of pink and red and yellow-pink flesh could be seen right down to the cracked bone. His mouth gaped open, twisted, his tongue hanging awkwardly to one side.
Moving to stand over him, Aldereyes couldn’t suppress a hiss, and then a growl. He snarled down at the tom that was supposed to be his father, the one that was supposed to be there for him when Sweettree died, the one that was meant to tell him stories, ruffle his fur, hold him when he cried. It was his fault it had to lead to this. Stormstar needed to know that Aldereyes didn’t regret it at all.
Myrtlewing sat back through his entire rant, offering silent support.
Alderstar had received his lives. He was glad to see Sweettree again. But she only stared sadly, told him what life she would give him, and turned away.
He had only been given six lives. The three left, he was told, were lost with the cats he let die. Ha. Did they think that would make him stop? Six lives was still five more than one. Besides, he never felt so alive and powerful then when he took a life.
But he got caught up in the thrill. So used to getting away with it, he got sloppy. He overheard Tanglepaw complaining about Myrtlewing, about what a horrible medicine cat he was for not being able to instantly fix his scar. He should’ve known better than to show such disrespect.
He laid the apprentice’s body on the Thunderpath next to a mouse, planning on it looking as though he had run across to chase it, only to get hit by a monster.
But this time, there were multiple witnesses. He tried to fight off the patrol that found him, but they soon overwhelmed him, and he had no choice but to flee until his legs could no longer carry him.
He lost his Clan, his home, his life. Worse than all of those, he left Myrtlewing behind. Should he go back for him? But then the Clan might realize that Myrtlewing had been working with Alderstar, and who knows if they could make it out alive a second time.
Heart tore from his chest, he wandered an unfamiliar forest, imagining the rest of his life alone. Right as these thoughts crossed his mind, there was a bright flash of light among the dark clouds. It seemed so close. Then a creak sounded overhead, and before Alderstar could run, a large oak fell atop him.
He tried to drag himself forward, he really did. He couldn’t breath, couldn’t feel his legs. Everything went dark, and then he was there again, trapped, then the darkness came again. He was vaguely aware of an old, familiar scent he couldn’t place, of starry fur wrapping around the exposed part of his body and licking comfortingly at his head.
Then the darkness came for the final time. As Alderstar’s eyes adjusted, he began to notice the trees. He knew where he was. He circled onto the ground, waiting for the day his loyal friend joined him.
--Only Myrtlewing and Alderstar can insult each other. If anyone else dares to (like Tanglepaw), well, you know.
--Common insults are seen in their nicknames.
--It wasn’t Alderstar’s imagination. Myrtlewing really does care deeply for him.
--I didn’t mean to give Alderstar a dumptruck ass.
--Myrtlewing’s kittypet name is Oslo.
--They lived in the old territory.
--It’s cartoony, so obviously their features are more dramatic than they would actually be.
--They might make you think of two characters from a T.V show. I like imagining characters in dark twists, such as being serial killers, and I decided to do just that with warrior-ified T.V characters. Kudos if you can figure out who they’re loosely based on!
