You can call me Tree, she/they pronouns, and Iām the person that has begun this blog, because I discovered Cruel Season is out (on dev version), chose to unleash it upon some unsuspecting kittens as an experiment, and then made up lore to tie all the challenge cards I chose together.
Important Note! This is not a comic. All updates will come in written format. I will have no set schedule, as I am a busy human outside of this blog. Expect sporadic updates.
With that out of the way, here are some tags I will be using:
Whispermoons - the written logs of WhisperingClanās attempts to survive
Whispers of Lore - Any lore tidbits I share about the past of WhisperingClan, the Fog, and any other things I think are cool/important.
Whispers on the wind - Ask tag! youāre allowed to ask either me as the creator, or the cats, but the asks are non-canon to the story itself.
Cruel Season Cards I Use:
Underpopulated - Smaller litters are more common than they typically would be
Survival of the Fittest - Hunters and most experienced cats are always fed first
Lean Meat - Cats consume roughly double what they would normally eat, due to the prey being scrawny
Forsaken - Leaders only have one life.
Anything For The Throne - Deputies are more likely to kill leaders
Fated Paths - Player is unable to force mates or career changes on cats. I will take what the game gives me because I have no choice.
Small Paws - Every founder is a kit.
WhisperingClan: Lore and Laws
A solid chunk of this is from me, and the game will not give to me, but Iām adding whatever details I can to it. Tucking under a cut for mention of murder/death, especially of children, violence, and some mentions of starvation. Plus a little dash of infertility, kinda. Aand some eldritch horror. This one has a lot going on, folks.
Laws of WhisperingClan
The strongest must be fed first.Ā If you cannot feed yourself, you will die.
The Fog is too powerful for StarClan to pierce, leading to the medicine cats (who have the strongest bond to them naturally) the only ones they can speak to. Leaders never receive nine lives, and as such will die the same as any other cat.Ā
If you see the deputy kill the leader with clouded eyes,Ā that is not the deputy. That is the Fog using their body to take its due.
Apprentices on their first moon must enter the fog alone, and stay out until sunset.Ā If they return, they are considered old enough to pull their own weight, and protect the Clan from the Fog.
The Fog is never to be discussed beyond its borders.Ā WhisperingClan cannot allow the Fog to spread.
If the Fog has not claimed a victim in six moons,Ā it will randomly snatch a cat from camp in the night, biased towards younger, less experienced cats.Ā If there are any kits in the camp, they are the only ones considered for claiming. If there are apprentices but no kits, they will be the only ones considered for claiming. If there are no apprentices and no kits, then a random warrior will be killed instead.
Thank the Fog for every bite of prey it gives the Clan, for without its gracious nature WhisperingClan couldn't survive at all.Ā
If you hear a dead cat's voice in the wind, especially one you were close to before they died,Ā RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN.
Little Lore Dump/Writing Thing
Once, WhisperingClan was a prosperous Clan, spanning a huge territory through the plains. They have six neighboring Clans, but are separated from all of them by two large rivers. The prey was fat and slow, the kits were numerous and healthy, and the leaders could lead for generations thanks to their nine lives.
But something happened one day. After Badgerstripe, the deputy who should have become leader, traveled to the Starhollow to speak with StarClan, he returned with only one life and anger in his eyes. When asked, Badgerstripe cursed the stars and claimed they had failed WhisperingClan as a whole.
The next morning, a fog settled over the territory, though it never entered the camp. For a while, everything was normal; the moors often got foggy, especially in this season. But as the hours turned into days turned into weeks, the cats began to wonder if the fog was truly natural. Badgerstripe continued to tirade against StarClan, even as his medicine cat warned him of the increasingly fuzzy messages from StarClan. Despite only having one life, and never recieving his leader name, Badgerstripe declared himself the leader of WhisperingClan and made his brother, Adderclaw, his deputy. Cats often assumed he would have done that regardless of his reaction to StarClan refusing him their blessing, as the two brothers were closer than any cat could imagine.
The Clan was shocked to find Adderclaw standing over Badgerstripe's body just a short, suffering year later, eyes strangely clouded, blood on his claws, and his yowls of grief on the wind. There had clearly been a struggle between the brothers, but Adderclaw swore he remembered none of it. He seemed as surprised by his betrayal as the Clan, and when the majority vote called for exile, he went without protest.
The Clan thought this would lift the supernatural Fog, that without Badgerstripe's blasphemous words clouding them from StarClan, they would be free. But it only brought more bloodshed, more starvation, until the Clan no longer tried to drive away its murderers. They were too valuable as guardians to lose, when another murder would only come to light the next day.
WhisperingClan's closest neighbors, FireClan, sent a patrol to ask after them, having missed them at many Gatherings by this point and fearing for the Clan's health and safety. The desperate WhisperingClan cats begged their neighbors for help, explaining everything that had happened, including the Fog (which the FireClan cats couldn't seem to see)
The FireClan patrol took the information back to their leader, and WhisperingClan waited with bated breath. Two moons passed, and nothing happened. After a long time of debate, a patrol of the few remaining adults, including the then-deputy Ryemask, were dispatched to FireClan to check on them.
They found FireClan's territory shrouded with the same Fog that had overtaken their land. And when they finally made their way to the FireClan camp, the cats of FireClan weren't cats anymore.
The cats of the patrol decided FireClan had been taken by the Fog as punishment for WhisperingClan telling them about it, revealing its presence to them, and their presence to it. That day, it was sworn that no cat of WhisperingClan would speak of the Fog to a cat that wasn't joining the Clan, lest they spread their misfortune across the world. Because even in their bleakest of days, the cats of WhisperingClan managed to uphold a small portion of Clanly dignity and honor.
Ryemask did her part in educating the kits of the Clan, even as the Clan dwindled around them, dying of illness, injuries, starvation, and murders. Even when she was the only adult left, she refused to apprentice the kits or permit them beyond the camp walls, which the Fog couldn't seem to penetrate. Once they breathed the contaminated air, she told them, they would start to spiral as their Clanmates had.
She could only pray to StarClan (if they were even listening) that the kits would be safe, and maybe even better than their predecessors, as she walked into the Fog and allowed it to claim her in the stead of her son, Robinkit, and his nurserymates.Ā
Behold Grandpa Ben. Heās ten years old (old as shit) and is now stuck with a gaggle of children. He could have spent the rest of his life with Twolegs but nooo he had to go get curious about WhisperingClan and now heās just sort of Here.
Also Iām deciding the reason he doesnāt leave when the Fog starts doing weird shit is because his paw is fucked up (the red patch, which is technically a scar) and itās really been bugging him since he got to WhisperingClan. And now heās not even sure heād make it to the border if he tried. Iām sure thatās fine.
TW: cursing (like, actual curses), mention of Snailpawās poisoning
Snowypaw should have known something was wrong when Yellowpaw insisted on coming with him for his next patrol. He should have known that something was coming from the look on Yellowpaw's face. Now they were far from camp, near to the TumbleClan border as Snowypaw searched for betony while Yellowpaw kept his nose out for prey.
Yellowpaw was the one that broke the silence. "What did you do to Snailpaw?"
Snowypaw sat up from a patch of plants, shaking the worst of the leaf litter from his pelt. "Huh?"
"You said she ate too much catmint; she said you made her."
"She's a mouse-brain." Snowypaw flicked his tail. "She'd probably say StarClan made her do it if it meant she didn't look the fool. Which she still does."
Yellowpaw curled his lilp. "You're lying, Snowypaw. I know you are."
"Why would I lie?" Snowypaw snapped. "I told her she wasn't supposed to eat herbs. Snailpaw's basically a kit; she obviously smelled the catmint and ate it without thinking. She's addled from the catmint."
Lashing his tail, Yellowpaw stood tall over Snowypaw. "YouĀ madeĀ her, I know you did! You wereĀ jealousā"
"Hey there!" Both apprentices jumped sideways as the voice boomed over the moors, theĀ massiveĀ adult cat walking towards them.
Snowypaw instinctively darted behind Yellowpaw for safety.
The cat limping towards them was a tall cream-coated tom, holding his ginger tail high in the air. "How's it going?" He asked casually.
Snowypaw lifted his nose alongside Yellowpaw, sniffing cautiously. This tom didn'tĀ smellĀ like a Fogtwist, but he didn't move. Yellowpaw had reported a cat who didn't smell like a Fogtwist, and still attacked him with all the viciousness of one, on his Fogwalk.
When neither apprentice answered, the tom just flicked his tail and lowered his head. "Sorry to scare you two," he said carefully. "I'm looking for some cats, and I was wondering if you'd seen them around."
"Who?" Yellowpaw asked, stepping forward.
"No, whoĀ areĀ you?" Snowypaw hissed from behind him, refusing to move forward with his Clanmate.
The tom swished his tail again. "Shit, I haven't introduced myself. Name's Ben Nevis, but most cats just call me Ben." He looked over to Yellowpaw. "And I think these cats called themselves... whisper cats?" He tilted his head. "I haven't seen their lot around for a while, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay." He glanced around. "Whole place looks fucked up, though. Is this fog always so thick?"
Yellowpaw and Snowypaw exchanged wide-eyed stares. "You can see it?" Yellowpaw asked.
"Can't see much else." BenĀ mrrpedĀ at his own joke. "So have you seen those cats?"
Snowypaw and Yellowpaw glanced at each other again. "... I think that's us," Yellowpaw finally said. "WhisperingClan."
Ben blinked. His eyes widened slowly. "... You?" He looked between them. "IĀ knowĀ there was more than a pair of fucking kits."
"There used to be." Snowypaw flicked his tail. "We're all that's left, now." He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Ben tilted his head, rising to his full height again. "Like I said, I knew the cats that used to live here. Got worried when I hadn't seen them wandering through for a while." He watched them intently. "You're... alone out here? In this?" He looked around at the Fog anxiously. "Seems like a mighty bad place for kits."
"We aren't kits," Snowypaw snapped, standing as tall as he could. He still barely reached Ben's shoulder. "We'reĀ apprentices."
"Oh, that makes it better," Ben's sarcasm dripped from his voice. "You're what, a year old? If that?" His tail lashed in frustration. "I'm not leaving you out here by yourselves. Come on, we'll find you two a nice big barn to settle inā"
"WithĀ Twolegs?" Yellowpaw stepped back, curling his lip. Because now both apprentices had spotted the spiked collar around Ben's neck. "I'd rather eat fox-dung. And we aren't leaving our friends."
Ben shook his head in consternation. "Yourā there'sĀ moreĀ of you out here?" He stared at them. "How the hell are youĀ alive?" He shook himself again, taking a deep breath as he seemed to come to a decision. "Alright. Show me where."
Snowypaw glanced at Yellowpaw, who spoke for them both. "Where what?"
"Where a gaggle of kits are hiding out in this godforsaken place."
"We aren'tā" Snowypaw puffled up.
"Yeah yeah, save it for when we get there." Ben looked around. āIām tired, and this place gives me the creeps. You better haveĀ shelter,or I'm dragging your asses to a barn whether you like it or not."
The apprentices eyed each other. There didn't seem to be any way to get out of this, but Snowypaw still flattened his ears in distaste.
"Fine." Yellowpaw said when Snowypaw seemed unwilling to speak. "This way." He started in the direction of camp, with Ben following in his awkward limp; Snowypaw brought up the rear, watching Ben for any sign of danger.
Snowypaw slipped into the medicine den, his mouth laden with herbs and his ears pinned back. He tried not to spend much time here, now that he had another apprentice nesting here that filled his den with noise and energy that made him want to claw her ears. But no, the others wouldn't accept that.
"Hi!" Snailpaw popped her head out of the alcove where the herbs were stored, darting forward with her tail high. "Is that the catmint?" She sniffed at the sweet-smelling bundle in Snowypaw's jaws. "It is, right?"
Snowypaw nodded, setting it down in the alcove and setting to work rearranging the herbs. "You moved the herbs." He grunted.
Snailpaw flicked her tail. "Not much. Fringepaw and Wigglepaw were in here for their tick fever, so I was looking for the dandelionsā"
"I told you not to give them anything!" Snowypaw whirled around. "IĀ toldĀ you not to give them herbs. Their next doses aren't until tonight."
Sailpaw's eyes widened at his outburst, and she sank into a crouch. "Iā I'm sorry, I wanted to helpā"
"Well you've done enough of that." Snowypaw hissed. He unsheathed his claws, digging them into the earth beside his newly-gathered catmint. And a thought occurred to him.
Taking a deep breath, Snowypaw turned to look at Snailpaw; she was still crouched, ears flat against her head as she shuffled her paws.
"Hey," he said quietly, unable to miss her flinch. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped." He nudged a pawful of catmint (notĀ everythingĀ he'd gatheredā just enough for what he wanted to do) towards Snailpaw, flicking his tail. "Here. It'll settle your nerves."
Snailpaw blinked, sniffing at the catmint. "Oh, really? You never told me that."
A chuckle left Snowypaw's jaws. "Well, if I told any old cat that sort of thing, then we'd have no catmint left come leaf-bare." He nudged the leaves towards her again. "Eat. It'll make everything easier."
That was all the invitation Snailpaw needed; with the sweetness still flooding her nose, she swallowed all of the catmint Snowypaw offered to her. "Thanks," she said after a few moments. Snowypaw could already see the sluggishness overtaking her. "It's... it's working already..."
Snowypaw flicked his tail proudly, stepping around Snailpawās drooping body. "Good. Rest."
Settling into his own nest, Snowypaw enjoyed the peace and quiet as Snailpaw's breath evened, growing longer and deeper. He didn't get up when that rhythm turned sharp and panicked, her body rebelling against the catmint's effects.
"Sā Snowyā" She gasped.
āRelax.ā He didn't stir, just curled his tail further around himself.Ā āItās doing its job."
Also also Deerkit and Greenkit have a lil crush on each other and itās so cute. Deerkit swore heād protect Greenkit with his life and theyāve got like a bar and a half of romance, official fancying territory.
Theyāre going to make me cry if anything happens to either of them.
Snowypaw's ears flicked as Fringepaw darted through the camp entrance, ears flat against his head sand-colored eyes wide. "Made it!" He cried out as he skidded to a stop in the clearing, gray and white fur bristling.
Beside Snowypaw, Yellowpaw lifted his head from his untouched mouse, springing up to touch noses with his fellow apprentice. Greenkit and Deerkit immediately stopped their conversation (which involved much ear-twitching and purring from both kits) and scampered over to greet Fringepaw as well, while the remaining kits lurked at the edges of camp. Snowypaw continued eating his mouse, shaking his head tiredly as the chatter returned to the clearing.
"Quiet for you?" Yellowpaw asked, looking beyond Fringepaw as if expecting a Fogtwist to rip through the entry tunnel after him.
Fringepaw nodded, making a face. "Yeah, but I smelled somethingĀ awfulĀ on the way back. Something like garlic and rot. I can still sort of taste it." He looked around, tail high. "Is Valleypaw back yet? I think I smelled him too."
Yellowpaw shook his head. "He's not back yet. Robinpaw isn't either."
"They're dead." Snowypaw called from where he was still eating.
Both the other apprentices whipped around to stare at him, as if unsure they'd heard him correctly. "What?" Yellowpaw finally asked, looking unsure.
Snowypaw flicked his tail. "It's true. They're not back, and it's past sunset," looking at the sky above camp, Snowypaw started counting the stars that were starting to make themselves known in the darkening sky. "Valleypaw and Robinpaw are dead."
"How do you know?" Snakekit challenged from beside her brother, where she had ignored Snowypaw's directions to sit. Wigglekit stirred from his rest, looking blearily around the camp.
Snowypaw indicated Fringepaw with his tail. "Fringepaw said so; he smelled Fogtwists, and Valleypaw with them. If Valleypaw's not dead, I'll be shocked. And Robinpaw was the next one out after Yellowpaw, so if anything he should have been home right after him."
Silence fell over the clearing, the celebrations of Fringepaw's return cut short. Then Deerkit threw his head back andĀ wailed,Ā his tiny voice echoing above the walls of camp. "Valley!"
The other cats started to wail too, for both their fallen friends. It was giving Snowypaw a headache. Folding his ears flat against his head, he scooped up the mouse he'd been eating and carried it into the slight reprieve of the medicine cat den.
Inside, he curled up beside his nest and finished off his meal, trying not to think about the grisly work of tomorrow; someone had to follow the trails to what was left of Robinpaw and Valleypaw, and bring them back to camp for vigil and burial.
He wanted to scream. But Snowypaw didn't have time to dwell on it. Ryemask had told him as much when she chose him as medicine cat: "You must put aside your own emotions; if you break, the Clan breaks with you."
"Hey." Snowypaw jumped at the deep voice, the shadow falling over the entrance of the medicine den. Yellowpaw slipped inside, his eyes flashing in the half-light. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Snowypaw hissed. "Go handle the others."
"I want to help you," Yellowpaw said insistenty. "The others have each other for now."
"For now," Snowypaw echoed, lashing his tail. "Until they die too."
Recoiling as if he'd been struck, Yellowpaw took a moment to stare at Snowypaw before he spoke again. "I don't think they will. We didn't know what we were doing, and Robin and Valley paid the price for it. When the others go, they'll be more careful." He tilted his head towards Snowypaw. "And if they get hurt? You'll patch them up."
"But I'm not that good yet," Snowypaw protested. "I can barely keep up already. Wigglekit's already sick."
"He'll get better," Yellowpaw settled beside Snowypaw, close enough for their fur to brush. A quiet hiss escaped Snowypaw at the contact, but he didn't pull away. "You're the best medicine cat I know."
ThatĀ got a laugh out of Snowypaw. "You've never been outside the territory; you literally started training today. IĀ swear once we go to a Gathering, you're not going to be impressed by me anymore."
Yellowpaw shot him a look. "So what if the others are better? They're not helping us. You say we can't let them. So we're just going to work with what we have, and what we have is you."
Snowypaw shuffled his paws, looking away. He didn't think he deserved those words, not with everything Ryemask had told him to prepare for, but with Yellowpaw staring at him with such hope in his warm green eyes, he couldn't bring himself to argue.
