rolling in the deep [flyaway]

[Rendezvous]

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The river was filled with fish today, which gave the Riverclan warrior a great opportunity to catch prey for her clan. She had a unique way of fishing, having learned it from her mentor, Troutleap, as an apprentice. As she swam into a slightly deeper part of the river, she spotted a silvery body dart between her legs. Taking a deep breath she submerged her head underwater and grabbed the fish between her teeth. Quickly raising her head of the water, she tossed the fish onto the shore, along with three other fish that she had recently caught. "One more should do it." She meowed to herself as she look for more prey, it was a blessing that the rivers near Riverclan were usually so crystal clear.

Soon enough a scaly body bumped into her front legs and she repeated the process and snatched up a large trout. The aggressive fish tried to weasel it's way out of her grasp, but Juniperfoot clamped her teeth firmly onto the creature, ending its life and tossing it onto the shore. Licking the blood from her jaws she swam back towards the shore and took note of her catch. Five fish! And they weren't tiny either, this would surely fill some bellies back at the camp. Using her paws, she aligned the fish in such a way so that their tail fins would be pointing in the same general direction. She then grabbed the tail fin's in her teeth and began to slowly, but surely drag the fish back to camp.

After a rather long trek, the fish were particularly heavy, she finally made it back towards the camp. A purr rumbled in her throat as she saw the looks on a couple of young apprentices. "Elders and queens first, remember." She reminded the youngsters gently as she laid the prey near the fresh-kill pile. The water was rolling off of her silver pelt, one of the typical traits of a Riverclan cat. She was going to retreat into the warrior's den before she heard an order for a border patrol. "Juniperfoot, Alderthorn, check the river boundary near Windclan territory. Remark the scent markers if necessary." The she-cat's heart dropped. Alderthorn?

Why couldn't she be paired up with Whiteblaze, or Kiteswoop or even Sparrowstep? Out of all the cats within Riverclan why in Starclan did it have to be Alderthorn? Swallowing her fear the grey tabby kept her head high, she couldn't show weakness. It was a little known fact that the warrior was afraid of Alderthorn. She remembered all too well how the large tom had broken a young Shadowclan she-cat. And judging from the gossip within Riverclan, Ashcloud had become a cripple, for life, doomed to never live her life as a warrior. Juniperfoot was one hundred percent loyal to her clan, but she could never imagine herself as never being able to live the life of a warrior.

The incident had happened when she had been an apprentice, and to such young eyes, Alderthorn looked very much like a monster. Ever since that battle with Shadowclan, Juniperfoot was certain that Alderthorn was some evil cat intent on hurting others, spilling blood, crippling every warrior he met in battle. Yanking herself back to reality she remembered that she had to participate in a border patrol. Seeing as Alderthorn was the senior warrior, it would be him that should lead their small patrol.

At least he doesn't have to be behind me where he can ambush me. She thought with a relieved sigh as she padded out of the camp.

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Alderthorn stood over the river. Despite how early it was in the season, the water was eerily calm. Cold winter breath still clung to the air, but it was feeble now. It was only a remnant of weeks long past. He sat, his tail curled around his paws. And as he stared at his own reflection, beautifully cast in the rippling water, he couldn’t help but realize a single irrefutable fact. He was handsome. Now he didn’t mean this in an effeminate flouncy sort of way. He wasn’t the sort given to using words like “gorgeous” or “fabulous”. And he would never have assigned either word to his own personage. But in this instance, sitting here on the banks of the river, it was simply so perfect. He was, quite simply, handsome. Everything about him was perfect. He had a muscular physique. His fur was smooth, like liquid silk over his bones. The tabby point markings on his face and body stood out starkly against his light bracken fur, as if Starclan themselves had painted him in sunshine. He frowned, his lips pulling down towards his paws. Another might have seen their own reflection, acknowledged their lustrous self-image, and felt a trill of joy, of satisfaction or pride.

Alderthorn felt nothing but disgust, quiet loathing with the stronger undercurrent of guilt that came associated with it. His eyes narrowed. He was a deadly beauty, an alluring poison. The most dangerous things in life always were. His claws unsheathed silently, sinking into the banks. They were reflected back at him in the water. He drew others in – whether she-cats who dreamed of carrying his kits or elders who felt instinctively protective – they all came to him. They flocked. They trusted him without knowing him. He sheathed his claws once more, his head hanging. That was the worst of it, the trust. He couldn’t warn them away, couldn’t keep them safe. He tilted his chin back, staring up at the sky. In a matter of hours, the sky would darker and Silverpelt would spread out over the blackness. Starclan would look down on him, observe the perfect weapon they had created. He loathed their silence, the feeling of power and invincibility in his paws. He wished they would take it back, this gift, this horrid curse. His head snapped out, his paw flashing out. Ripples spread out violently in the water, distorting his image.

He turned quickly away, his ears against his skull. He began to stalk back in the direction of the camp. He took breaths, steadily, in and out. By the time he reached the camp entrance, a small squirrel in his jaws, he had smoothed over his features. Everything was controlled, his gaze calm. There was a strength about him, dark and mysterious. He placed his prey in the pile, raising his head only at the sound of his own name. His gaze flicked between the commanding warrior, and his companion to-be. He recognized Juniperfoot, how couldn’t he? Her childish apprentice scream still echoed in his ears at night. He pushed the memory away, nodding quietly to her. He moved out almost immediately, assuming Juniperfoot would follow. He had never been a particularly talented conversationalist, and he doubted Juniperfoot was particularly eager to have the pleasure of his company. He cleared his throat, speaking with a quiet rumble. “If we move quickly we can be back by nightfall.” He wasn’t sure what more to say, and wished desperately for a way to separate himself for her. As the scent of Windclan grew stronger, he couldn’t push away the image of that crumpled young Shadowclan she-cat.

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[Rendezvous]

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She remembered the incident all too well. Juniperfoot had been an apprentice at the time, and such violence had never been a good memory. Even though she was a warrior, her dreams were plagued with nightmares. At times she even thought that Alderthorn would come after her next, crushing her bones in the process. Sure, her phobia of the tom was quite unhealthy, and as an apprentice many a time she landed herself in the medicine cat den from her constant fears, but she had never confessed to the medicine as to why she felt that. Being older, she wasn't as fearful as her past self, but the fear was still there.

As she touched up on her thoughts, she lagged behind the tom. Looking up her blue eyes widened in shock and she ran to catch up to the tom, still keeping her six tail-length distance. "That would be good. You never know what dangers lurk in the woods after nightfall." She murmured quietly, almost to herself. It was a shame that she didn't even trust her own clanmate. Okay, Juniperfoot! You can't just live in fear forever! Try to make small talk or he'll get suspicious and come after you! She thought as she looked at the back of the tom's head as he walked. "So. Um. Caught any good fish lately?" She asked curiously? Fish had always been a Riverclan delicacy, and at times warriors prized their best catches. "I caught a trout this morning, I'm sure it'll fill some empty bellies." She added hastily, hoping that her words wouldn't offend the tom.

One would think that a cat was intruding on Riverclan territory judging by how wary the she-cat was at the moment. Her tabby fur was slightly fluffed up along her frame, and her eyes were constantly watching her surroundings. "Well, I hope that no cats have crossed over into our borders. We're lucky that most cats don't like getting their paws wet." She murmured as she scented the air every now and then.

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Action had never been officially taken against him for his behavior during that fateful afternoon. Froststar had, as was her duty, called him out at the following Gathering. But to admit Alderthorn’s accidental cruelty would have been to admit imperfection and possible weakness in Riverclan as a whole. So he had been defended. They’d tried to say he’d had some right, misinterpreted her actions. They’d give a hundred justifications for why he had done it. And yet no one, not a single soul, had ever asked him. He didn’t think they dared. Most were too afraid to hear him voice what they all thought – he’d done it on purpose.

The truth didn’t really matter, not after the fact. And Alderthorn hadn’t mentored an apprentice since. He didn’t question it, didn’t complain. Secretly, he feared being assigned an apprentice – feared such close repeated proximity to any of his clanmates. They weren’t the only ones who feared him. It was a strange sensation, to fear one’s self, to fear one’s own two paws. He was drawn from these languid thoughts by Juniperfoot’s quiet words. He knew, without looking, that she trailed far behind him. She wasn’t the only one cautious not to get too close. He kept his face a guarded mask at her words, though his thoughts were more mutinous – I’m the danger that lurks in these woods at night.

He cleared his throat slightly, an appreciative sound at the mention of her catch. “The fish have been running so poorly, it’s impressive you managed such a catch.” It was strange, this lilted awkward conversation – between strangers who had been raised together. It was unnatural, clogged around them. They approached the border and Alderthorn had to physically tense in order to keep from shivering as the scents of the other clans washed over him. He frowned slightly, a rare flash of genuine fear and concern drifting over his gaze. “We are lucky to be in this time of peace. We can only do our best to make it last.” Because when war came, when true tension and conflict descended, wet paws wouldn’t deter battle. They wouldn’t deter Starclan from unleashing their perfect weapon.

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[Rendezvous]

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Usually she would appreciate someone praising her for her hunting skills. Yet when the words came from Alderthorn, they almost felt empty to her, in fact they felt almost like insults than compliments. She didn't want the trek to the Riverclan border to be a silent one, but she also didn't want to risk angering the tom. Her first impression of the tabby was almost set in stone, her eyes failed to see him in any other light. "T-thanks." She stammered after a few moments, her voice barely a whisper. What am I doing? I am a confident warrior, not some babbling scared apprentice! The sound of bones breaking underneath the weight of the tom had never left her mind, so in truth when she was with her fellow clanmate, it was as if she had never been promoted to a warrior, and had still remained in the body and mind of an apprentice.

Peace. Yeah, she wished her mind could be at peace. Now that she shared the warrior's den with Alderthorn, she always thought of the possibility of the tom coming for her next. She feared that one day she would wake up with her legs bent at awkward angles, unable to be used properly ever again. Swallowing hard, she lengthened her stride for she had been falling behind. "Yes, peace. It's good that there haven't been any battles lately." At least not within our own clan. She shot Alderthorn a worried, almost frightful look before she caught the scent of another feline.

The scent didn't belong to a clan cat. Juniperfoot came to a full halt, her ears flicking and eyes looking around the area. "There's an intruder. A rogue." For a moment, she pushed all of her resentment for Alderthorn aside, caring for her clan mattered more than her own well-being. "Over there." She gestured with her tail towards the moors, but seeing as the scent trail was fresh, this intruder was still on Riverclan territory somewhere. Just when she thought Windclan would be their biggest worry on this patrol, they came across a rogue.

She didn't want the tom to chase the rogue out. Even though the rogue wasn't of clan blood, she didn't want the cat to end up broken beyond repair like Ashcloud. "I'll handle it." She added quickly, not even giving the senior warrior a chance to make the decision for himself. Without hesitation she disappeared into the reeds near the river. The rogue had have come across Windclan territory, there was no way any other cat would have wanted to get their paws wet by crossing the river.

The grey warrior stalked quietly through the weeds, trying her best not to make a sound. Within minutes she spotted the raggedy pelt of the rogue. A tom. His face was pushed in while his skinny frame was riddled with scars and old, dirty wounds. It looked as if the tom was feeding off of crowfood.. Juniperfoot almost felt sorry for the old cat, but there was nothing she could do for him. Her clan came first, and this was no Riverclan cat. Without even issuing a warning, she hissed at the tom, unsheathing her claws.

The scarred tom dropped his rotten meal, his eyes looking to the she-cat in defiance. "Get off of our territory!" She hissed as she chased after the tom, nipping him on his tail as he tried to run for the river but skidded to a halt, not wanting to get his paws wet of course. Juniperfoot nipped the tom on his heels, although it was evident that this rogue did not like to be cornered. He whipped around and swiped his claws across the warrior's face, causing her to hiss in annoyance. Juniperfoot really didn't want to hurt this rogue, but he seemed to be particularly stubborn.[/i

She raked her claws against the tom's side, lashing out into a fury and little by little she pushed the tom back out of Riverclan territory and onto Windclan's where he raced across the moors. The she-cat stood on the opposite of the border, feeling quite accomplished. "One less problem." She panted, watching the raggedy tom disappear into the moors.

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At times, he felt like a lion among gazelle. He was a predator, a true power. He was made for greater things. And those creatures, those that dared to call themselves “warriors”. They were nothing. They were sheep, flocking together. Their numbers didn’t increase their strength, only accented their stupidity. They said they valued “peace”. But with near constant battle, not a kit within the clans could truly know peace. He supposed they prided themselves on it, the whole forest stank of their self-righteousness. He wanted to show them their reflections, the blackened purity they thought they held. He wanted to see their eyes, as he stood above them, as Starclan revealed him – their tool of revolution.

He could understand, in truth, why so many feared him. There was nothing in the clans like him, no creature existed similar to him. He’d probably inherited her more…violent skills…outlook from somewhere, perhaps his father. He’d been strong, truly strong. He took what he desired, when he desired it. He sank his claws into it, pulled it to him, and shredded it when he was finished. Alderthorn had done just that with Ashcloud, albeit unintentionally. He hated how easy it had been, and what a bitter taste that still lingered on his tongue. And for a while – he had hated himself for it. But in the end, a lesson had been learned. There was no such thing as true loyalty – only destiny. His mother, his brothers, even herself had no choice in what they would become. It was pre-planned, pre-arranged, no matter what they might have dreamed of.

And these clans pretended to have democracy. They pretended they knew something of equality. But they were a monarchy, established moons before any of them could remember. They were ruled by Starclan, playing puppets with their fates and lives. They were open to corruption, but blind to their own essential faults. Then, when they found themselves exploited, they reacted with foolish amounts of fury. Yet time and time again, they would make the same mistakes. These were mistakes Alderthorn would never bring to light, fatal flaws he would never try to fix. To strengthen the clans, their core structure, was to weaken his own possibilities, his own frail chances of escaping what he had been created as.

He was still lost in his thoughts, his meditations and self-loathing. He rounded a corner, Juniperfoot at his side. She paused suddenly, stiffened. He moved ahead before realizing she was no longer at his side. His head snapped up at her words. He inhaled deeply as she took off. He swore under his breath, his eyes narrowing. If he hadn’t been so self-centered, so lost in himself, he would have scented the intruder. He unsheathed his claws, digging his paws into the dirt as he sprinted in the direction Juniperfoot had vanished. She had a head-start on him. Plus her lithe thing body was far more equipped for speed than his bulky muscular form. He heard a yowl, the scent of crowfood and blood slammed into his nostrils. He snarled under his breath, bursting through the reeds. His fur was puffed up, his lip curled over his lips, his eyes narrowed aggressively. His eyes immediately settled on Juniperfoot.

She was still, panting. A raggedy tom was fleeing, already crossing Riverclan borders, away from the clan territories. As far as Alderthorn could see, she had no wounds. His fur began to calm, though he shot a quick glance at Juniperfoot. He was quiet, soft-spoken, but his voice had an edge. “I wish you had waited for me. You could have been injured.”

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[Rendezvous]

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The she-cat didn't even give the tom a second glance. "As you can see, I am fine. I didn't need your help." In truth, she had wished she could have asked him for help. But she felt as if she could not, or rather should not. She feared that if the tom had faced the rogue, the raggedy cat would have been nothing more than a broken heap by the river bed. Of course the rogue didn't belong on clan territory, but no cat deserved to lose the ability to walk, hunt, to be a cat.

As her gaze shifted back to the empty moors of Windclan, she had to wonder, how could windclan cats thrive out there? There was hardly any shelter, and there choice of prey was nearly as fast as they were, if not faster. Then again, Riverclan was no better. They fished in the river, getting their paws wet in the process. Water was no problem for them, for they were almost natural born swimmers. Each clan had their own special trait, it was what set them apart. But in her mind, she couldn't find a place for Alderthorn. A cat who purposely wanted the harm the likes of others. That was lower than a rogue in her mind.

Shaking her head she looked to the border. It was mingled with scents of Windclan, with Riverclan scent being almost overpowered by it. Twitching her nose she meowed, "Yeah, well, let's remark the borders. It's getting dark." It was true, the trek from their camp to the Windclan border had been tedious one, it was a wonder why more than just two cats hadn't been sent out. Right, the camp was short on cats. They needed more warriors, more kits and apprentices that would soon join the ranks of the other Riverclan warriors. Right now, they could almost be viewed as weak to the other clans, and Juniperfoot did not like the sound of that.

The tip of her tail flicked as she returned from remarking the scent markers along their side of the border. "It doesn't seem like Windclan has been trespassing, just marking their territory a little too close to our side of the border." That didn't really seem to be a problem, as long as the other clans didn't start stealing prey, or intruding over their borders.

She really didn't want another fight between clans.

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