Post by Kin on Jun 23, 2013 18:59:13 GMT -5
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froststar
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More and more often, Froststar wondered if her rule was cursed by StarClan. While she was no proud egotistic feline, the scarred white leader knew that she was competent, at least. She kept her Clan living and on their ancestral territory, had earned no enemies for ShadowClan. And she had yet to have a mentor-apprentice pair approach her with differences they could not solve themselves.
And yet....
And yet it wasn't enough, it seemed. Her own apprentice, once more snatched from her paws, too young. This time, she wasn't even able to fight for the apprentice's life. Cedarpaw had simply been crushed by a tree and Froststar hadn't gotten there in time to save her. She'd had to retrieve a patrol of her strongest warriors to shift the tree enough to bring Cedarpaw's broken and bleeding body home. She'd had to arrive ahead of the warriors carrying her apprentice, bloodied and solemn, to break the news to Cedarpaw's parents.
If that weren't enough, Brindlestorm had been ensconced in the medicine den for the last half-moon, horrendously weak and skeletal-thin. The normally energetic and snarky elder had been disconcertingly quiet, stirring only at the presence of her kin, speaking nearly without sound and with as sparingly few words as she could wring out of her emaciated, dying body. Her son Gorsetooth had been vigilant by her side, retrieving whatever the medicine cat needed and passing information on to the rest of their kin so that they could go about their duties.
It had wreathed the camp in an atmosphere of solemnity and mourning. Brindlestorm was, quite naturally, having none of it. She'd ripped into anyone who mentioned the inevitable end of her life as best she could, berating them for wasting their time with visits and worries. She'd grouched about wanting to return to her own StarClan-forsaken nest and getting out of the medicine den. Her temper had been one of the few things to coax smiles and laughter out of her kin, especially in the last days.
They had buried her yesterday, beside Cedarpaw. She'd given the apprentice a warrior name in death, so that she might walk amongst the ranks of StarClan the warrior she could have become, if she'd lived only a moon more. Honoring the apprentice's sharp tongue and keen mind, Froststar had passed her on to her ancestors as Cedartongue, warrior of ShadowClan. Gorsetooth had led the elders in digging the two graves, and the sole words he'd spoken before his vigil beside his mother's body were that Brindlestorm would have pitched an enormous fit at being buried, stuck forever beside an apprentice, even if her name said different. A pale shadow of a smile hung on his muzzle and in his eyes while he spoke, and then he'd turned away.
Behind her, the sun was rising over the treetops, painting the sky with warm colors and slowly banishing the night. Gorsetooth would still be sitting beside Brindlestorm's grave, yellow eyes trained on the mound of dirt hiding the larger-than-life she-cat's now-tiny body. The camp was much quieter without her, and without Cedarpaw-- no, Cedartongue. She'd made sure of that herself. And Froststar just couldn't take it. It reminded her too much of being stuck in the medicine den, swathed in cobwebs and drugged to the gills with poppy seeds, watching Ternpaw's parents mourning, watching the Clan move about as though StarClan had ripped the sound from ShadowClan, as though they'd all become what their Clan was named for.
And so she'd ran, slipped out of camp with an order to Pinestep to meet with her at sunhigh to discuss Clan business, telling him that she was out hunting. Her paws had carried her away from the pine forest that held the lion's share of her worst memories and steered her toward the marsh and the WindClan border, where some of her best, most bittersweet memories lay. Where her kits had been conceived. Froststar loped onward, mind consumed by memories and insecurities and the faults that always nagged at her.
She stepped forward, paw plunging into the watery ground of the marsh. Only, her paw never impacted earth as she expected. Instead, Froststar pitched forward, head crashing beneath the water. Her body followed, and loose mud sucked her down. The leader thrashed and kicked, panic flaring in her chest. ShadowClan cats never learned how to swim! Why should they, when their territory merited no reason to do so? Thrashing only made her lungs burn more fiercely, and when she gasped, desperately trying to draw in air, murky water flooded in.
Panic faded into dread and acceptance. Froststar exhaled, sending the water around her muzzle churning. Mud sucked her body in further, restricted her movement and tangling her fur. She opened her eyes, unaware of when she'd closed them. The dirty water stung them, and she blinked rapidly, identifying up by the lighter quality of the water. But... it was far over her, and the mud had her in a fierce, unyielding grasp.
Perhaps....
Perhaps this was meant to happen.
Her mind provided the thought sluggishly, the world dimming around her. As her vision faded, Froststar couldn't help but think that, yes, StarClan had cursed her rule, and they had commanded it to end.
[/style]More and more often, Froststar wondered if her rule was cursed by StarClan. While she was no proud egotistic feline, the scarred white leader knew that she was competent, at least. She kept her Clan living and on their ancestral territory, had earned no enemies for ShadowClan. And she had yet to have a mentor-apprentice pair approach her with differences they could not solve themselves.
And yet....
And yet it wasn't enough, it seemed. Her own apprentice, once more snatched from her paws, too young. This time, she wasn't even able to fight for the apprentice's life. Cedarpaw had simply been crushed by a tree and Froststar hadn't gotten there in time to save her. She'd had to retrieve a patrol of her strongest warriors to shift the tree enough to bring Cedarpaw's broken and bleeding body home. She'd had to arrive ahead of the warriors carrying her apprentice, bloodied and solemn, to break the news to Cedarpaw's parents.
If that weren't enough, Brindlestorm had been ensconced in the medicine den for the last half-moon, horrendously weak and skeletal-thin. The normally energetic and snarky elder had been disconcertingly quiet, stirring only at the presence of her kin, speaking nearly without sound and with as sparingly few words as she could wring out of her emaciated, dying body. Her son Gorsetooth had been vigilant by her side, retrieving whatever the medicine cat needed and passing information on to the rest of their kin so that they could go about their duties.
It had wreathed the camp in an atmosphere of solemnity and mourning. Brindlestorm was, quite naturally, having none of it. She'd ripped into anyone who mentioned the inevitable end of her life as best she could, berating them for wasting their time with visits and worries. She'd grouched about wanting to return to her own StarClan-forsaken nest and getting out of the medicine den. Her temper had been one of the few things to coax smiles and laughter out of her kin, especially in the last days.
They had buried her yesterday, beside Cedarpaw. She'd given the apprentice a warrior name in death, so that she might walk amongst the ranks of StarClan the warrior she could have become, if she'd lived only a moon more. Honoring the apprentice's sharp tongue and keen mind, Froststar had passed her on to her ancestors as Cedartongue, warrior of ShadowClan. Gorsetooth had led the elders in digging the two graves, and the sole words he'd spoken before his vigil beside his mother's body were that Brindlestorm would have pitched an enormous fit at being buried, stuck forever beside an apprentice, even if her name said different. A pale shadow of a smile hung on his muzzle and in his eyes while he spoke, and then he'd turned away.
Behind her, the sun was rising over the treetops, painting the sky with warm colors and slowly banishing the night. Gorsetooth would still be sitting beside Brindlestorm's grave, yellow eyes trained on the mound of dirt hiding the larger-than-life she-cat's now-tiny body. The camp was much quieter without her, and without Cedarpaw-- no, Cedartongue. She'd made sure of that herself. And Froststar just couldn't take it. It reminded her too much of being stuck in the medicine den, swathed in cobwebs and drugged to the gills with poppy seeds, watching Ternpaw's parents mourning, watching the Clan move about as though StarClan had ripped the sound from ShadowClan, as though they'd all become what their Clan was named for.
And so she'd ran, slipped out of camp with an order to Pinestep to meet with her at sunhigh to discuss Clan business, telling him that she was out hunting. Her paws had carried her away from the pine forest that held the lion's share of her worst memories and steered her toward the marsh and the WindClan border, where some of her best, most bittersweet memories lay. Where her kits had been conceived. Froststar loped onward, mind consumed by memories and insecurities and the faults that always nagged at her.
She stepped forward, paw plunging into the watery ground of the marsh. Only, her paw never impacted earth as she expected. Instead, Froststar pitched forward, head crashing beneath the water. Her body followed, and loose mud sucked her down. The leader thrashed and kicked, panic flaring in her chest. ShadowClan cats never learned how to swim! Why should they, when their territory merited no reason to do so? Thrashing only made her lungs burn more fiercely, and when she gasped, desperately trying to draw in air, murky water flooded in.
Panic faded into dread and acceptance. Froststar exhaled, sending the water around her muzzle churning. Mud sucked her body in further, restricted her movement and tangling her fur. She opened her eyes, unaware of when she'd closed them. The dirty water stung them, and she blinked rapidly, identifying up by the lighter quality of the water. But... it was far over her, and the mud had her in a fierce, unyielding grasp.
Perhaps....
Perhaps this was meant to happen.
Her mind provided the thought sluggishly, the world dimming around her. As her vision faded, Froststar couldn't help but think that, yes, StarClan had cursed her rule, and they had commanded it to end.
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pine
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i did the thing
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867
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