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thistledown-au-warriors · 2 years ago

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fire and ice - chapter 15

< Chapter 14 || Index || Chapter 16 >

"Why did you choose to be a warrior?" Princess asked, green eyes glittering curiously.

Fire Heart looked up at her. That day, sunlight broke through the clouds at sunhigh, and Princess' housefolk were out, thus he and his sister lay on the grass in her garden.

"What do you mean?" Fire Heart asked.

She tipped her head to one side. "Well, you left your housefolk to become a warrior, no?" Princess asked.

"Well, yes." Fire Heart answered, rolling himself into laying down on his belly. "I always felt drawn to the forest. To me, the life ThunderClan offered was the true way to actually live ." He closed his eyes for a moment, brought back to the moment he met Blue Fur and Lion's Heart for the first time, dappled sunlight showing their magnificent builds and wise eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago. "I've been working towards being a warrior since I was accepted into the Clan." He finished, opening his eyes.

Princess narrowed her eyes slightly, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "So you didn't actually choose to be a warrior?" Noticing Fire Heart's immediate confusion, she went on. "There are other ways to be a Clan cat, didn't you say so? Like through healing and taking care of kits?"

"Well, the whole Clan takes care of queens, kits and elders, but being in the nursery is for queens. And it's not like I can be a queen, so…" Fire Heart began, scratching the dried grass.

"Oh, Fire Heart!" Princess huffed, exasperated. "You don't need to give birth to take care of kits. You got four paws and a muzzle, you could help out just fine if you wanted to."

The warrior blinked. He supposed that was true. While all the queens currently in the nursery had kits of their own, Hop Speckle used to stay there out of preference, to help out younger mollies, and it seemed like Frost Shine would remain in the nursery as well. He just assumed that was something former queens did.

His sister shook her head, smiling. "But anyway. You didn't get a say in if you wanted to be something else instead of a warrior?"

Fire Heart looked at his paws. He hadn't. He knew this. He had been avoiding thinking about it. "Well… ThunderClan already had a healer and a healer apprentice when I joined, and it still does. All the others have only one healer right now. So it's not like there was much to consider. And… the Clan needed more warriors."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Princess spoke again. "It seems strange. Why doesn't every cat learn how to be a healer? If life in the wild is so risky…"

"Well, you do pick up on the basics after a while. But hunting and protecting the territory are the most vital." Fire Heart replied, looking at her again. "The Clan needs to be fed every day, especially queens and elders. And we have to patrol the borders to keep watch for foxes, badgers, rogues, and other Clans. Having a couple cats that only focus on healing works. And they also communicate with StarClan, something only a few cats can do." He didn't mention that he himself was one of these cats - there was no need to go into that now.

The molly tilted her head. "StarClan?"

"Our warrior ancestors. They live in the Starpath." He looked up and waved his tail in a long arc. "They send us messages through visions, signs and dreams."

Princess followed Fire Heart's gaze, wide eyed. She adjusted her pregnant belly into a more comfortable position before speaking again. "Well. That still doesn't say what you want though, does it?"

Fire Heart looked down at his paws. His mouth opened, then closed. His mind whirled with a barrage of thoughts he'd been avoiding, and he desperately reached to control them. ThunderClan needed warriors, that was the reason Blue Fur took him in. And he knew it was true - life in the forest was fickle. Sicknesses and cats like Broken Tail caused the deaths of young and old. News of the tension with ShadowClan and RiverClan spread through Camp like a wildfire. What did it matter what he wanted? Being a warrior was the best way to serve his Clan now. Blue Fur had told him so. Fire Heart wanted to serve his Clan. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to make Blue Fur glad to have taken him in. He wanted to make Misty Step proud to have trained him. He wanted to walk the forest beside Gray Stripe.

"I have a duty to my Clan. Keeping the Clan safe and fed is what I want." Fire Heart meowed firmly.

Princess stayed silent for a moment. "You're truly loyal." She murmured, impressed.

He didn't reply. After all, he had been telling that mostly to himself.

***

Prey hung from his jaws as Fire Heart padded down the ravine. The rocks felt even rougher than usual with the cold, especially with how early the sky darkened, forbidding them from retaining warmth. He knew that it hadn't been that long since he left Princess' garden, but the sun set with no regard for the Clan cats.

Fire Heart dropped a couple mice in the fresh-kill pile. He'd made sure to also get a shrew for Gray Stripe, who wasn't too fond of mice. His friend still hadn't recovered from his chill, and he hoped some fresh food would give him some energy.

However, when Fire Heart peeked his head into the warriors' den, Gray Stripe was nowhere to be seen. The gray tom's nest was cold. The only fresh scent in the den was Black Leopard's, who was dozing off in her own nest. Where could he have gone? Perhaps he went to see Violet Fang .

Outside, most cats were already in camp, likely brought back by the cold and lack of light. He could see Swift Bird and Dusty Earth leaving the elders' den with clumps of moss stuck to their fur. Mossy Patch and Brindle Face were carrying their three drowsy kits back to the nursery. Golden Flower, Tiger's Claw, White Flower and Willow Branch were chatting over their meals by the senior warriors' usual spot. Most of the warriors were chatting in small groups or sharing tongues. Fire Heart guessed that, if duties had already been done in the elders' den, they were probably fed already. Shrew still dangling from his jaws, he padded over to the nursery, in case the queens needed any fresh-kill.

At the entrance, he was a few heartbeats short of bumping into Frost Shine, who was followed by her four kits.

"Oh, hello Fire Heart." The white queen greeted politely. "Hop Speckle might like that shrew, Snow Flight and Mistle Drop haven't eaten yet."

"Mom! Let's go, let's go!" Blazing Cinder chirped, shouldering her way out of the den.

"Patience! You're going to mess up your fur!" Frost Shine reprimanded, pulling her daughter closer with her foreleg and licking an unruly tuft of gray fur on her shoulders, despite the kit's protests. The other three kits padded out from behind their mother, amused, but their eyes shone with the same excitement as Blazing Cinder.

"We're being apprenticed today!" Thorn Claw announced, chest puffed out proudly.

Fire Heart blinked in surprise. "You're six moons old, already?" Looking at all of them like that, Fire Heart realized that the three kits were much bigger than they'd been when he and the others rescued them from ShadowClan. Thorn Claw and Bright Flame were the largest kits, almost the size of a fully grown cat, while Blazing Cinder was the smallest. Bright Flame was white, like her mother, but her fur was long and patched with ginger. Thorn Claw and Bracken Leaf were both golden-brown, though with different eye colors - blue and amber. Blazing Cinder was the only one to have a small mane of dark gray fur around her neck, reminiscent of her father, Lion's Heart.

"Time flies, doesn't it?" Frost Shine murmured. "They aren't quite six moons old yet, but it's close enough, they're already crowding the nursery. I'm sure you're tired of apprentice duties."

"I'm going to do so many duties!" Blazing Cinder announced, kneading the ground with her paws.

Thorn Claw scoffed. "Sure, but I'm going to do them better ."

"I'm sure just doing them is quite enough." Bright Flame meowed, exasperated, and Bracken Leaf nodded in agreement, eyes serious.

Amused, Fire Heart suppressed a purr. Their mentors would surely have their paws full.

Soon enough, Blue Fur called for a Clan meeting. Frost Shine dipped her head to Fire Heart and made her way to the Highrock, excited kits in tow. The ginger tom quickly left his fresh-kill with Hop Speckle, and followed Mossy Patch out of the nursery to sit among the assembling cats. Many stood close to one another, sharing warmth as they sat on the frosty ground. Frost Shine was already sitting proudly below the Highrock. Two kits sat on either side of her. Fire Heart lifted his head to look around, but Gray Stripe was nowhere in sight. He noticed Violet Fang and Stone Pelt arriving at the clearing, and hurried to meet them as they sat down.

"Is Gray Stripe in the den?" Fire Heart whispered to Violet Fang, settling beside her.

The old molly narrowed her eyes. "No. Is he not resting in his nest?"

Fire Heart shook his head. The healer let out a low hiss of frustration, and Fire Heart felt anxiety bubble in his chest. His friend was out in this cold? Did he want to catch a sickness? But he could not say any more as the ThunderClan leader lifted her head to speak.

“Tonight, we gather together to name four new apprentices. Come forward, all of you.”

Thorn Claw dashed forward and skidded to a stop at the foot of the Highrock, Blazing Cinder at his heels with her fluffy tail held high and her blue eyes wide. Bracken Leaf, came forward more slowly, ears pricked and brow furrowed with seriousness as he walked to the foot of the Highrock, Bright Flame padding silently beside him.

“Mouse Fur.” meowed Blue Fur, “You have told me that you are ready to take on an apprentice. You will be mentor to Thorn Claw.”

Fire Heart watched as Mouse Fur stepped forward and went to stand beside the golden-brown tabby kit, who scampered up to meet her.

“Mouse Fur.” Blue Fur went on, “You have shown yourself a brave and intelligent warrior. See that you pass on your courage and wisdom to your new apprentice.”

While Blue Fur spoke, Mouse Fur looked just as proud as the new apprentice Thorn Claw. The two of them touched noses and withdrew to the edge of the clearing. Fire Heart could hear Thorn Claw meowing eagerly, as if he was already plying his mentor with questions.

Pale Tail, who was sitting close by near Fleet Foot, leaned in to whisper at the tom's ear, loud enough for Fire Heart to hear. "Feeling left out? Both your siblings got apprentices before you."

Fleet Foot's ear twitched at the teasing. "I don't care. You two are more suited for this kind of thing than I am." He murmured in return, unbothered.

“Black Leopard.” Blue Fur announced. “It's about time you got a new apprentice. You will be mentor to Bright Flame.”

The tall black cat, who had been sitting near the edge of the gathering, stood up and padded over to Bright Flame. The kit waited for her with eyes shining. Black Leopard took her eyes off her for a moment to give Frost Shine a small, polite nod, which the queen returned. Fire Heart remembered how bitterly the two mollies had fought on the day ShadowClan stole the kits, thanks to Tiger's Claw spreading rumors about Raven Shadow, but it seemed like the two of them were able to make amends.

“Black Leopard.” meowed Blue Fur. “You are a warrior of great skill and experience. I know that you will pass on all you know to this young apprentice.”

“I certainly will.” Black Leopard purred. “Welcome, Bright Flame.” She bent to touch noses with her, and escorted her back to the assembled cats.

Only two of the four remained without mentors. So far, both a young and a senior warrior had been chosen. Soon, Bracken Leaf was called forward. Blazing Cinder scuffed the ground with her paws, clearly upset at being left for last. He couldn't help but smile - something about the small molly's clumsy enthusiasm reminded him of himself when he had first joined the Clan.

"Mossy Patch." Blue Fur called, a note of warmth in her voice as she called forth her daughter. "You're long overdue for your first apprentice. You shall be Bracken Leaf's mentor."

The gray-and-white warrior's ears went up in surprise. She shot a glance at her mate, who stood at the mouth of the nursery, and then quickly made her way to her new apprentice. The small tom looked up at her. Only his eyes, which shone like stars, gave away the fact that this young cat was as excited as his siblings.

Blue Fur continued. "Our newest elder Rose Fall was your mentor. I hope that her skills and wisdom will pass through you to your new apprentice.”

Mossy Patch nodded at her mother, yellow eyes shining in determination, and she bent down to meet Bracken Leaf's politely raised nose with her own. The molly led him to the crowd, where she sat beside Misty Step, who murmured congratulations to her sister.

Blue Fur called the gray kit closer, who let out a loud excited eep! . A quietening hiss came from Frost Shine, and Blazing Cinder ducked her head apologetically. The ThunderClan leader's blue eyes scanned the crowd for a moment, until her gaze landed on a particular cat.

"Sand Storm." meowed Blue Fur. “You are ready for your first apprentice. You will train Blazing Cinder.”

The pale ginger molly stood up so fast her fur ruffled. Pride and disbelief colored her expression. Fire Heart could scarcely believe it either - Sand Storm was a brand new warrior. Some whispering among the assembled cats seemed to share similar thoughts. But then again, Sand Storm had always been the best in their generation. No matter how unpleasant she could be, the molly was undeniably talented.

"Sand Storm, you trained under White Flower at an accelerated pace thanks to Broken Tail's threat, and flourished into a warrior who would make our dear Red Tail proud." Grief coated Blue Fur's voice as she mentioned her lost deputy. Fire Heart noticed a slight strain to Sand Storm's expression as her father was mentioned. "I trust you will pass those skills to your apprentice, for ThunderClan's sake."

"I will, Blue Fur." Sand Storm announced firmly, as she reached for Blazing Cinder's nose. The small gray molly nearly jumped up to meet her mentor's muzzle, and Fire Heart had to stop himself from chuckling as the warrior stiffened at the impact.

The crowd soon dispersed and gathered around the newly named mentors and apprentices, congratulating them. Dusty Earth was, unsurprisingly, the first to congratulate Sand Storm. As Stone Pelt padded over to Mossy Patch, Violet Fang turned to Fire Heart. "You might want to know. I spoke to Bark Face at the half-moon gathering."

Fire Heart stood up, excited. He'd forgotten that healers met every half-moon at Highstones. "Truly? How is he? How's WindClan?"

Violet Fang smirked, whiskers twitching. "Scrawny. But probably less so than when you found them in that Twoleg ditch. He mentioned a very helpful young ThunderClan tom, and sent his thanks."

He looked down, ears warm. "I didn't help that much. Just found some herbs for him."

"Yes, and helping him apply poultices and everything, just as I taught you. I had to tell him you were made a warrior before he tried to ask to steal you away to become his apprentice! To think I sent my own apprentice to help him."

Fire Heart chuckled, still embarrassed. He didn't think he had left that much of an impact at all, but he knew there was a cat that he did help out in WindClan. He looked up again. "Did he mention how Morning Bloom and her kit are doing?"

The flat-faced molly tipped her head to the side as she used a paw to scratch at her neck. "No such names. But WindClan is settling well, it seems. You can ask about that at next Gathering." She got up and turned towards the healer clearing, but then gave Fire Heart a firm look. "Tell Gray Stripe that if he doesn't get the rest he needs, I'll make him rest." She growled, and Fire Heart knew that the former ShadowClan cat wasn't kidding.

After she stalked away, Fire Heart padded towards the fresh-kill pile and had a quick meal before heading to the warriors' den. Many cats were in there already, settling down to avoid the chill of nighttime. To his surprise, so was Gray Stripe, snoring softly in his nest. Fire Heart blinked. If he hadn't known any better, he'd have assumed the gray tom had been there the whole time.

Carefully, Fire Heart wove around Gray Stripe to lay in his own nest, letting his back fur brush Gray Stripe's. His friend purred briefly in his sleep at the warmth. He wanted to wake Gray Stripe up to ask him where he'd been, but decided against it. It was good that he was resting now, he could easily wait until morning.

Fire Heart placed his chin on his paws and closed his eyes to sleep.

#thistledown au #thistledown fire and ice

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pjwarriorcats · 2 years ago

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Profile Piece: Nifty-Senpai

Of all of the big names involved in the jumpstart of the Warriors fandom into the colossal online community that it now is, Nifty-Senpai (aka Nifty or Jessica) is one of the few original content creators still posting Warriors related content.

[Alt Text: Nifty Senpai's Icon of a cartoon cat wearing a red scarf. Image credit: Nifty Senpai]

Nifty began their career on Youtube posting short animations in 2009, and continued to grow and improve as an animator throughout the years. In the process, Nifty built a sizable platform, consisting now of 137K subscribers on Youtube and 15.6k followers on Twitter.

Nifty is responsible for a number of well-known and well-loved MAPs (Multi-Animator Projects) and MAP parts, PMVs (Picture-Music-Videos), and animations. Some notable examples include their "Little Pistol" Bluestar animatic, the "Everything Moves" Sol MAP, the "Always Gold" Gray Wing and Clear Sky MAP, and, most recently, the incredible StarClan's Chosen MAP. All of these projects made waves in the fandom and were highly anticipated from their very first announcement. Nifty organized and took part in all of these projects, producing extremely high-quality community creations on-par with professional-level 2D animation productions. And all of it was done on volunteer time and effort. The escalation of skill and quality, as well as Nifty’s ability to direct so many animators and keep everything so coherent and readable to the audience (the StarClan’s Chosen MAP had an extraordinary number of 121 animators all working together under their direction) from their start on Youtube to now is incredible. I highly recommend giving any of these animation projects a watch if you haven't seen them already.

Nifty’s MAP projects have been able to attain a very impressive level of coherency and consistency, thanks in part to another project of theirs. Over the years, Nifty has drawn and posted a hugely expansive archive of Warriors designs, both character designs and location designs, that is completely free to access and utilize with credit. There are hundreds upon hundreds of resources created by Nifty that they have made completely free to use as reference in anyone’s Warriors fan project. This remains one of the most massive and impactful contributions to the fandom to date; Nifty’s designs have been used in numerous other projects, including certain parts of The Time Machine MAP, certain characters in the yet-to-be-finished "How to Save a Life" Medicine Cat MAP, the "Let Go" Grey Wing and Clear Sky MAP, and more. Many artists have created designs for the Warriors characters, and many allow others to use those designs for free, but no one has made such a vast collection as Nifty. I’ve included a few of my favorite designs below!

[Alt text: A drawing of a calico cat with a fluffy ginger tail lying down. Image credit: Nifty Senpai; post link]

[Alt text: A drawing of a golden-brown tabby cat with a crooked jaw. Image credit: Nifty Senpai; post link]

[Alt text: a drawing of a grey tabby cat with a reddish-ginger tail and ears. Image credit: Nifty Senpai; post link]

[Alt text: a thin greenish-grey cat with pointed markings and spiky fur tufts. Image credit: Nifty Senpai; post link]

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bonefall · 2 years ago

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The family tree is coming along better than expected.

Question for the tree: how’s the Windclan family coming along?

Did you change any members of Tallstar’s family?

Well, to answer this question, I’ll show you the step I’m currently on with WindClan. I’ve drawn out the canonical family tree that I have to start with,

(This is why it takes me a while to pop out these family trees; this is actually an easier chart I’ve made. Top left corner is ‘orphan’ characters with no relevant parents or siblings.)

As you can see, WindClan is actually only two families, and a slew of completely unrelated male bachelors. It gets worse because Shellfur ended up stealing the ONLY unrelated bachelorette, Fernstripe, out of WindClan for himself.

Heathertail also decided to put herself with her first cousin once removed instead of literally anyone else in WindClan. I also normally wouldn’t care that Breezepelt is also her grand-uncle’s grandson (a second cousin is significantly distant) but with how closely related they were already, it’s insult to injury.

Not to mention how Onestar clearly knows about it in his SE. I was actually undecided on the severity of Rule 1′s Addendum until the EXACT moment I remembered Onestar thinking about how Heathertail was marrying his sister’s grandson. It made me so uncomfortable I'm using it as a nuke button.

So, anyway, I don’t have as many thoughts as my ThunderClan fix obviously, but here’s what I’m thinking for WindClan so far--

General changes;

Several bachelors are getting hit with the woman beam, but finalized changes won’t set in until I decide who I want as parents.

Tentatively, I’m thinking Slightfoot, Hootwhisker, and/or Weaselfur are going to be molly’d.

I may end up allowing Furzepelt a litter before her death in AVOS; or stop her death entirely

(it frustrates me when interesting background cats are killed for no reason)

I may kill Whiskernose instead of Sunstrike in the Great Battle, and allow her to be the disabled elder.

Tentatively considering Sunstrike and Furzepelt as WLW to raise kittens together.

Tornear will have a descendant; I don’t like that Shrewclaw’s line died out.

Webfoot will probably have a descendant as well, unsure who though.

In general more of the cats from Tallstar’s Revenge and post-SkyClan Exile WC warriors have kits instead of just Hickory/Meadow, Woolly/Pale, and Mist/Hare.

ALSO Larkwing’s kits currently have no father. As long as the Erins don’t do something remarkably stupid, I’ll go with whatever father they end up deciding on.

On the Hickory/Meadow and Stag/Wren Bloodlines;

Tallstar’s direct family (parents, siblings) are unchanged.

I’m not a fan of how Tallstar suddenly made his nephew his deputy. It adds an element to the WindClan Rebellion that feels wrong.

So, Onestar is being moved out of Stag/Wren’s litter. This fixes that, as well as Heather/Breeze being first cousins once removed.

Morningflower has no living children; Ashfoot’s only surviving child was Crowfeather.

Tentatively, Onestar is the son of Larksplash and Cloudrunner (father subject to change). He was unnamed at the time of his mother’s death and the only survivor of the litter, leading to the name Onekit.

Sorrelshine and Deadfoot’s descendants are far enough removed (and they were both dead long enough) that I won’t be changing their children or parents.

Heather/Breeze;

Breezepelt, my detested, is going to get massive changes in the bigger rewrite leaving his litters undecided for now.

I am not against deleting the four kits entirely if it means Breezepelt gets a more conclusive ending; him raising them is barely even relevant in the THREE. ARCS. since oots.

He didn’t even mourn Smokehaze what was the POINT? HMM??

Unsure if he will still end up with Heathertail; but he probably will after AVOS.

Possible scenario: Smokehaze and Brindlewing were in a second litter for Onestar and Whitetail, and Heathertail can have Apple and Wood with Breezepelt after he has an actual redemption arc in AVOS.

Other scenario: Smoke and Brindle have an unknown father or were sired by someone else to Heathertail alone, invoking the Queen’s Rights

If Scenario 1, would be cool if Darktail straightup killed Smokehaze, and Brindlewing dies in TBC...

On that note, again, these family trees are genetic trackers and don’t mention any of my other fixes, but it’s worth saying that Whitetail is no longer Onestar’s apprentice. HELL no.

‘Trying to preserve canon‘ applies as a rule to everything EXCEPT Onestar’s Confession I will drown this book in the lake with my bare hands

#WindClan #Warrior Cats Family Tree #Family tree #Bonefall Rewrite #Also don't worry about sending so many asks dude #Why would I be mad at getting questions about something I want to talk about?#As long as you don't mind it takes me a while to get to them #Your asks on River and Shadow may have to sit there for a couple days though #I haven't drawn their canon charts out yet which takes me an hour or two #And then these posts actually take me an appalling amount of time because I enter focus mode #I'm trying to get a post about kittypet culture out before I have to get some actual school work done #I just wanna talk about cats man

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years ago

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The Calm and the Storm

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Nine

A JSE Fanfic

Finally, we reach the action! Henrik, Chase, and the others are here to rescue Marvin! Will everything go smoothly? Either way, I’m excited to show you guys :D I’ve been planning this for a while now, and it’s nice to finally have another actiony part in this AU. And, yeah, I have nothing else to say. Short author’s note. Hope you guys enjoy ^-^

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Chase woke up to someone shaking him. He rolled over, and looked up to see Henrik. “Hhrm?”

“Ah, sorry to wake you,” Henrik said apologetically. “But we are about to start planning. I thought you would want to join.”

“Oh. Right.” Chase sat up, and looked around. It didn’t really feel like any time had passed since he’d laid down to take a nap. And it didn’t look like it had, either, since the windows to the inn room were thick, blocking out all light when they were drawn. “Of course.”

“Great. We are meeting in the other room. Follow me.”

They were planning in another inn room, which was rather small with about fifteen people crowded into it. By the time Henrik and Chase arrived, all available sitting areas had been taken, including on top of the beds. Chase closed the door behind him as they entered, and awkwardly leaned against the nearby wall.

“Right.” Henrik walked to the center of the room. “Now that we are all here, we can get started. The...event...is tomorrow, at noon, so we have to get things sorted tonight.”

The ‘event.’ Clearly, Henrik did not want to talk about the execution. Either out of fear of people overhearing and realizing they were planning a rescue, or because he didn’t want to think about his old friend Marvin being the one slated to die.

“This is Yuko.” Henrik gestured at a black-haired woman. Chase vaguely remembered her meeting them when they checked into the inn. But he also could have sworn he’d heard that name before. “She has been working in Abhanna, this city, ever since she found out the news. Getting a ‘lay of the land,’ as it is.”

Everyone murmured greetings. Chase saw Tripp wave cheerfully.

“Thank you,” Yuko said. Her voice was soft and pleasant. “I had expected you to arrive sooner, but I suppose there’s no accounting for weather. Now, I already have a plan arranged. We will have to strike at the execution itself.”

“Why can’t we storm the castle dungeon tonight?” One of the Phantoms asked.

“Because the guard has been tripled in the past few days,” Yuko explained. “They must be worried.”

“Where is the execution being held?” Lukas added. “We know the time, but what else?”

“Of course.” Yuko pulled a bag off her shoulder, reaching inside to take out a rolled-up scroll. She walked over to a bed, forcing the two sitting on top of it to leave, and unrolled the scroll, revealing a map of the city. “It will be in the central square, here.” And she pointed to a circular area in the middle of the map. “Most of the city people will be attending.”

“Why?” Chase couldn’t help but speak up.

Yuko shrugged. “Attendance is required. There will also be some nobility in the stands.”

Henrik rolled his eyes. “Of course there will be.” Then he grew serious again. “We brought three archers.” He gestured at the archers in question: Chase and Lukas, of course, and Gwyn, who had helped get them into the city. “Are there vantage points for them to shoot from?”

“Hmm.” Yuko looked over the map. “There are many tall buildings around the square. What about all you others?”

“Three of us are doctors, two are sorcerers, and the rest are warriors, of some sort or another.”

“Um...” Another Phantom raised her hand. “Back to the question of people attending. How are we supposed to get through them?”

“And what about after?” Another added. “Once we get Cat out, how do we get away?”

“I still think we should try tonight.”

“There are going to be warriors at the execution, right? What are we going to do about them?”

Already, Chase was starting to get overwhelmed.

The meeting went on for hours, dragging into the night as they hashed out all the details of the rescue. Eventually, though, they had a solid plan.

The three archers were to wait in three buildings surrounding the square that were supposedly easy to sneak in to. If anyone tried to stop them, they just had to say they wanted to get a good look at the execution, and hopefully the other person would be too concerned with said execution to worry about them.

Meanwhile, half of the group was to follow Yuko to their escape route. The south gate of the city wall. Apparently it was hardly ever used, since it wasn’t connected to a major road. From there, they would take a dirt path to a small pond—connected to a nearby river—where they would help Yuko prepare a getaway boat. The other half of the group, including Henrik, was going to integrate into the crowd during the execution, gradually getting close to the actual event.

Things would spring into action once the “herald” was done with the “last words request.” These terms were strange to Chase, and indeed many of the group, but Henrik explained that the herald was the one who read out the official list of crimes for the one being executed. Their role was one of ceremony and formality. “Do not worry, you will know who is the herald because they will be wearing this silly hat with a feather,” Henrik said. Coming from anyone else, that might have been a joke, but his tone was dead serious.

Once the last words request was completed, the three archers were to fire arrows as a distraction. Not to harm anyone, but merely to get people to panic. Once they did, the group in the crowd would run up, take care of any warriors there guarding the execution, and snatch Marvin away. The archers would then join this group, and they would all go to the south gate and escape down the river.

It seemed like a good plan. And everyone else was confident in it. That, in turn, gave Chase a boost of confidence. With a solid idea of what to do, the rescue seemed less daunting.

The group separated, all heading to bed to get a good night’s sleep before the main event tomorrow.

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The day dawned cold and cloudy, and it stayed that way as the execution approached. The group, directed by Schneep and Yuko, went about their preparations, under the guise of getting ready to sell their foodstuffs at the gathering. Chase found his nerves building to almost unbearable levels. He was starting to feel nauseous with it. He hadn’t felt this way since the last time Quentin was really sick. Ironically, that was the same day he met Henrik, back when he was a traveling doctor.

It would be fine. He was just a bit worried about everything going smoothly. Which it would. There was no reason it wouldn’t. And once things were underway, his nerves would surely fade.

The streets of the city, Abhanna, soon became crowded. People were flooding them, all heading towards the central square, chattering as they went. Some sounded afraid. Some sounded excited. Some sounded grim and resigned. Some sounded bored of the whole thing. Perhaps not the first execution they’d seen.

Eventually, it was time. They left in groups. The escape group was the first to go. Chase, Lukas, and Gwyn were the second to leave. But before they went, Chase turned to Henrik. “Well...we’ll be seeing you later,” he said slowly, trying to sound casual.

Henrik nodded, and gave him a faint smile. He reached out his hand. Chase took it, and Henrik pulled him into a brief, one-armed hug. “Will be seeing you,” he said. “And good luck.”

Chase smiled back. “Yea. Thank you.”

Blending in didn’t prove an issue. Yuko and the other southern Phantoms had provided the members of the group with clothing that would match what the cityfolk wore, along with bags to carry their masks and some of the more uncommon weapons. They just had to slip into the crowd. Gwyn led the way to the town square—which was, in fact, circular. As they approached, the crowds became denser, people pressing together. When they arrived at their destination, Chase couldn’t even see the square.

“There, and there.” Gwyn subtly pointed out the appropriate buildings. “And I’ll be there. You got it?”

“We got it,” Lukas said, and Chase nodded in agreement. “See you afterwards.”

Gwyn nodded back. “See you.”

And then they split up.

Sneaking into the shop building was exactly as easy as it was supposed to be. All Chase had to do was navigate around to the back, open the door, and find the stairs. It was completely empty. There wasn’t even any need for the prepared excuse. Chase hurried up the steps to the second floor, which looked to be where the shopkeepers would be living under normal circumstances. As he looked for a good window with a vantage point, he hoped that they wouldn’t be blamed for him shooting arrows from up here.

He found a window in one of the bedrooms that worked perfectly. There was even a small wooden bench pressed up against it. Chase sat down, and took his bow and quiver out of his bag. He put the quiver on, resting it against his hip, and laid the bow on the bench as he pulled out his hunting knife. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to use that. But better safe than sorry. He attached it in its sheath to his belt.

Then, the mask. His new one, shaped like a deer’s head with the cross symbol on the forehead. It was quite nice, actually. He’d made most of it, though Tripp had helped with the antlers. Chase breathed out slowly, and put it on. The weight of the antlers took some adjusting, but it felt perfect.

From here, he had a perfect view of the outside. The sky had grown even darker, and he wondered if a storm was coming. The square was packed with people, most of them standing, but a few weaving around with carts full of goods. Huh. Apparently merchants did sell their wares at executions. That was a bit morbid. But Chase was quickly distracted by the main attraction in the center of the square. A dais, made of stone, looking much like a permanent feature of the town. And in the center of the dais was a stone block. A man dressed entirely in black was standing next to it, leaning on a large, black-bladed axe.

Chase swallowed nervously just at the sight of it. He looked down briefly to nock an arrow in preparation. Then, he returned his attention to the crowd.

There was a wooden...box. Full of rows and rows of seats, covered with woven cloth. No, those were ‘the stands,’ weren’t they? People were sitting on the seats inside, dressed in finer clothes than those just standing on the cobblestone of the square. Nobility. And there was no sign of grim reflection or sadness on their faces. They ranged from indifferent to excited, eating food off plates like this was some sort of party, despite the grim nature of the event and the gloomy sky above. Wait a minute...he recognized one of them.

Yes, it was that wizard who’d shown up in Skytown! The young blonde woman, now wearing a dark red dress with an emerald pendant around her neck. What had Jackie called her? Ah, right. Tinechroí. Chase leaned a bit closer. She was sitting with three others, an older man and woman, and a man who looked only a bit older than her. The older woman had brown hair, but the two men were blonde, like Lady Tinechroí. Her family. Chase could see the resemblance from here.

They were sitting near an...odd part of the stands. There was a section in the middle that was curtained off, hidden by lengths of green cloth. Also sitting near the curtains was a portly woman, who was facing the curtains and talking animatedly, and a brown-haired man with a fine mustache and some sort of bow around his neck. Huh. Actually, that young man was the only one in the stands who looked nervous. He was quite pale, sitting stiff and not looking away from the execution dais.

Before Chase could reflect on this further, there was the sound of horns blowing, long and low. The crowd below, previously loud with chatter, died down. And slowly, one side of the crowd began to part. Something approached.An iron carriage, completely enclosed except for a barred window high in the wall, pulled by a single ox. Chase felt suddenly cold.

The iron carriage stopped near the dais. The two drivers hopped off the bench at the front. A man and a woman, wearing the black tunics with the royal crest that signified they were King’s warriors. They walked around to the back of the carriage and heaved open two iron doors. And they pulled out a man. Chase couldn’t make out his features. He was wearing a blindfold over half his face. But his clothes were dirty, and his shoulder-length brown hair was a matted mess. His hands were bound behind his back, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t struggle as the two warriors started dragging him towards the execution dais.

A man stepped out of the crowd, wearing a fairly ridiculous hat with a feather and carrying a scroll of vellum. Wow. Chase had thought that was an exaggeration, but nope. That must be the herald, and he really did look ridiculous. Chase stood up, getting ready.

He couldn’t quite hear what the herald was saying from here. Just snatches. But in it, he definitely heard the name “Marvin.” So it really was him. Chase drew back the bowstring and searched for something to aim at. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. But it was so crowded down there...

The two warriors climbed the steps to the dais, pulling Marvin between them. It looked like he was trying to stomp on their feet, which Chase couldn’t help but smile at in approval. The executioner was now standing up straight, getting ready to lift the axe. Chase glanced at the buildings surrounding the square, wondering if he could see Gwyn and Lukas in the windows above.

They dragged Marvin to the block in the center of the dais. The herald closed his scroll, shouting something. Chase couldn’t make it out, but he knew. It had to be the last words request.

So he let out a deep breath, and loosed the arrow.

It landed in the wooden side of the stands with a solid THWACK! Another arrow, coming from a different direction, pinged against the side of the iron carriage and bounced off. And another—another hit the leg of the executioner, who let out a bellow and stumbled to the side. The results were immediate. The crowd cried out in unison, the nobles in the stands all jumped to their feet or ducked for cover, and Chase could see people moving through the people below, flashes of white masks.

But then he saw a flicker in the corner of his vision. His eyes darted back towards the stands. To the curtained-off area. Where the curtains had been drawn back. He could see a figure inside, but couldn’t make out anything except for a shadowy form.

Thunder rumbled, and then—

CRAAK!

Chase cried out, covering his ears at the deafening sound right next to him. He staggered to the side, and turned to see—fire! The building was on fire!

Before he could take that in, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and then—

CRAAK!

Another loud sound. Chase threw himself to the ground instinctively, but when he looked up, he only saw a hole in the building’s ceiling, which, along with the floor and parts of the walls, was now burning steadily. That sound—the fire—had the building just been struck by lightning?! Twice in a row?!

The fire was spreading rapidly, unnaturally fast. He coughed on the smell of smoke, and for a moment, he was back in his village, in Hilltown, running through the burning streets trying to get home to see if his family had made it—

No! He couldn’t think of that now! The lightning—the fire—he had to get out of here. Chase climbed to his feet. Already, he could feel the wooden floors creaking as their foundations were eaten away by flames. The stairs. He headed out of the bedroom, covering his mouth and nose with his shirt to keep out the smoke, but found the stairs were also aflame, with a hole in the ceiling above. The second lightning bolt had struck here, and he couldn’t get out.

“No! No!” Chase spun around, looking for an escape. The only option he could see were the windows. They didn’t have glass. But he was on the second floor.

He turned to look back at the bedroom he’d come from, but only saw flames. This building was dry wood, it was ready to burst. There was only one option.

Running to the left, he threw open the nearest door, revealing another bedroom. This one had a window, too, overlooking a small alley in between this building and its neighbor. He peered down at the ground. Nothing but hard cobblestone. But behind him, flames were approaching.

Nothing else to do. He prayed for luck, and dropped out the window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lightning bolts?!

Six lightning bolts in a row?!

Where had that come from?!

No matter how Henrik looked at it, there was nothing natural about that. Especially considering the six bolts struck the three buildings where Chase, Lukas, and Gwyn were supposed to be shooting from. Magic? But how powerful did that magic have to be to call lightning?!

He didn’t have time to think about it. Soon after the last lightning bolt faded, warriors burst forth. They came from underneath the stands, apparently hiding in a space hidden by the decorative cloth covering the sides, and began searching the crowd. The regular cityfolk panicked, of course, but the warriors weren’t there for them. These warriors—all King’s warriors in their royal-crested tunics—were looking for the Phantoms.

One of the warriors spotted Henrik, easy to see because of the owl mask he had put on. They ran towards him, and he immediately broke out in a run, pushing through the panicked crowds. Not retreating away from the square and the execution dais. But instead moving to the side. He could see, through the throngs of people, Marvin still on the dais with the executioner and the two warriors. But he couldn’t quite make out what was happening. He couldn’t leave now. Not when he was so close.

The warrior was closing on him. That was a problem, considering they were quite a bit bigger than him. Henrik started looking through his supplies. He had a knife, but it wouldn’t do much good with his size disadvantage. Most of his bag was filled with medical things in jars. Some of which were rather fragile...

“Schieße,” he cursed, and grabbed a round glass bottle. He turned around and threw it back at the warrior. It hit their chest and immediately shattered, spraying a powder everywhere, including into their eyes. They faltered, rubbing their eyes, and Henrik ducked down, temporarily hiding in the crowd. He really hoped that was just seedbane, like he thought it was, and not something vitally important.

He managed to break through the crowd. They were keeping away from the dais, steadily getting away from it. Good. That allowed Henrik to run straight up to the steps.

There was a struggle happening on top of the dais. One of the warriors was trying to help the executioner, who’d been wounded by an arrow earlier. The other was trying to get Marvin off the dais and back towards the iron carriage. But of course, Marvin was having none of it. Even with his hands bound and blindfolded, he refused to give up that easily. As Henrik climbed the steps, he saw Marvin try to bite the warrior’s hand when it drifted too close to his head.

With both of the warriors occupied, Henrik had the opportunity. He sprinted across the dais and shoved the first warrior away from Marvin, knocking her against the block. Marvin fell down in the process, but there wasn’t time to check on him yet. The warrior was recovering. Before she could fully, Henrik ran at her and pushed her again, this time with enough force to throw her back into her fellow warrior and the executioner. No time to stop! Henrik knew he couldn’t take two warriors and the executioner at once. He turned back to Marvin, now sitting up, and helped him to his feet. “Hello again,” Henrik said, a bit breathlessly.

Marvin stiffened. “Hen—”

“No names in masks, remember?” Henrik pulled the blindfold off. Marvin blinked in the sudden, if gloomy, light. And immediately, Henrik knew it was him for sure. He’d been a bit worried they’d use a decoy or something, especially when he saw the longer hair, but nope. It was really him. “We have to go—”

There was a humming in the air. Marvin heard it before Henrik, and shoved him to the side, using his whole body since his hands were still bound. Just in time to avoid a beam of hot, bright light. Marvin glanced around, and noticed the stands. “Damn. There’s going to be about ten magic-wielders over there. Run!”

Henrik took a moment to recover, then nodded. “Right.” He grabbed Marvin’s arm and jumped off the dais, just as the warriors were getting to their feet. They two warriors shouted, and immediately jumped off as well, pursuing the two of them.

“I hope you have a plan!” Marvin yelled over the sound of the crowd.

“Of course we do! Things just—haven’t been how we expected!” Which was odd. That lightning—the warriors—what was going on? “Just follow me!” They would have to get to the south gate and hope that the others made it as well. Henrik really hoped they were all okay. He couldn’t see any of them, and there were warriors and fire coming from—from somewhere. “Hurry!”

People were running through the streets, crowds fleeing from the square in a panic. Henrik and Marvin followed the flow. The two warriors pursuing them slowly fell behind in the crush of people. They didn’t stop to celebrate losing them, instead continuing towards the outside wall of the city where Yuko was supposed to be waiting. Supposed to be. Who knew if she would still be there, with things going wrong like this? But it was their only option.

With that in mind, all they could do was run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The landing hadn’t been pleasant, but he made it intact, and without hitting his head or anything important. Chase got to his feet, wincing a bit. His left ankle felt...wrong. Had he sprained it? “Please don’t be broken,” he said under his breath. He took a step and put his weight on it. The pain flared, and he hissed through clenched teeth. But he didn’t collapse. That was good. He could walk, though he probably shouldn’t be running.

Chase walked away from the building, still on fire and getting worse, as quickly as he possibly could, limping a bit. He emerged from the small alley onto one of the main streets. People were running. No, fleeing. From the direction of the square. A whole crowd of them. As soon as he stepped into the street, he was swept away, staggering from the surprising force of it. Nobody paid him any mind. A few glanced at him, noticed the mask on his face, and shrunk away as quickly as they could. But surprisingly, not that many seemed to notice. Probably more concerned with whatever they were running from.

What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know where Henrik or any of the others were, or if their rescue mission had been successful. Should he just head to the south gate?

Well, that would prove difficult. He knew where south was, but couldn’t remember which streets to take to head there, and the crowd kept pushing him about and carrying him with them. Not to mention his ankle. Still sending flares of pain every time he stepped. But he had to try. They’d probably be there. Hopefully. Hopefully they wouldn’t leave him behind.

He wasn’t sure which way to head, so he just let the crowd carry him for a while. They seemed to be heading generally towards the edge of the city. Until, eventually, the throng started to thin out. The moment Chase could walk without being pushed around, he headed across the street to the nearest alleyway so he could get his bearings. Okay. He had no idea where he was. If they’d arrived in the city earlier, they might have had time to get familiar with the layout. But as it was, he didn’t recognize anything, and the buildings were so tall and close together that he couldn’t see beyond the street he was on.

Maybe...if he went down this one street...he’d eventually make it to the south gate? It looked like it was heading towards the city wall. That had to work.

Chase took his mask off, then realized he’d left his bag—where he was supposed to hide it—back in the burning building. After a moment of thinking, he opened his jacket and slipped it inside. It was an awkward shape, with the antlers poking his stomach as he held the mask to his chest, but it was the only thing he could think of. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do the same with his bow and quiver. So he had to risk walking around with those on his back and pray that nobody stopped him.

Luckily, nobody did. As he slowly, painfully, made his way to the city wall, the streets emptied until there was nobody out there to see him. After what felt like ages, he made it to the wall. Its stone brick loomed overhead. Chase felt very small in its shadow. But he couldn’t stop now. If he followed the wall, he’d eventually find the south gate, right?

He ran a hand along the stone bricks as he walked. With the wall on his left side, it provided additional support for his ankle, which was starting to hurt even more now that he’d been walking on it for so long. The sky overhead remained cloudy and gloomy. A few raindrops started to fall, but not enough to qualify as rain.

After what felt like ages, Chase thought he could see the south gate. It looked just like the north gate, but with the addition of a small half-circle of clear space around it, not unlike the square itself. There were people standing around the iron portcullis set in the wall, which was open just enough for someone to walk through. At first, he got excited. But...then his heart sank. Those people weren’t wearing the white animal masks of the Phantoms. They were wearing black, royal-crested tunics.

Chase froze. Right now, he was standing in a shadowy area between the wall and a tall building. The warriors probably couldn’t see him. But they might eventually. He had to get around without being seen.

Slowly, he backed up until he reached the corner of the building, then ducked around it, pressing his back to the wall. He could head around the square. But he’d have to cut across the street, and then he would definitely be visible to the warriors.

Maybe he could time it. Run across the open street while the warriors weren’t looking. But his ankle...he doubted he could run even that short distance.

He needed to know more about what they were doing. Carefully, Chase walked along the wall of the building until he reached the other corner. Now he was standing on the edge of the street, peering around the building towards the gate. And from here, he had a clear view of what the warriors were doing.

As luck would have it, none of the warriors were looking towards the street. Even though they were spaced out around the gate, clearly in perfect formation to guard the area and watch out for intruders, they were all looking at someone else, standing in front of them. Their back was to the street, so Chase couldn’t see their face, but they wore a short, hip-length black cape with an attached hood pulled over their head. It was made of a fine fabric. Maybe that was why all the warriors had their eyes perfectly fixed on this person. Unblinking. It was...a bit creepy.

Nevermind that. There was an opportunity here. Chase pulled his mask out of his jacket and put it on, just in case he was spotted. Then he took a deep breath, and broke into a run. He burst out into the open, and kept running. Surprisingly, he reached the other side of the street easily, ducking behind the building opposite the one he was previously hiding behind.

But he couldn’t stop yet. The warriors or that strange hooded person might have heard his footsteps on the cobblestone road, and decided to pay attention. So he kept running. Even as his ankle cried out in pain, he pushed through it. He reached the wall on the other side of the gate. He turned to the right and started running again, continuing his path along the edge of the stone wall—

And ran smack dab into a person.

“Oof!” Chase stumbled back, crying out a bit as the sudden motion twisted his ankle the wrong way. Gasping, he leaned against the wall and lifted his foot off the ground, then looked at who he had just ran into.

It was that man he’d seen in the stands at the execution. The brown-haired one with the mustache and the bow around his neck. The only one who had looked bothered by the whole thing. What was he doing here? “Sorry,” Chase whispered.

The man looked at him, and his eyes widened. His expression shifted. Was that...recognition? But Chase had never seen this person before in his life. At least, not before the execution.

Then the man glanced over Chase’s shoulder. And his expression paled.

“What’s this, then?”

For some reason, hearing that voice left Chase with a cold feeling, as he’d been thrown in a river of ice. He turned around, not sure if he wanted to see who had said that.

It was that hooded person, the one that all the warriors had their eyes fixed on. A man, dressed in fine green clothing edged with gold thread. A sheath hung from his leather belt, and Chase vaguely recognized the handle sticking out of it as belonging to a seax, a type of knife. A golden circlet sat on top of the man’s brown hair, partially hidden by the hood. His green eyes locked onto Chase’s face.

Green eyes.

Gold circlet.

Fuck.

“You. You’re one of those rebels, aren’t you?” The King’s expression was still, but his voice held icy anger, reflected in his eyes. “That mask. A deer? You think you’d pick something a bit more fearsome, instead of an animal that bolts at the slightest noise.”

Chase felt his throat closing up. He backed up, until he hit the other man, who hadn’t moved at all.

“Oh? Not going to defend yourself?” And the King smiled. “Smart. You know there’s nothing you can say to get you out of this.”

What was the King doing here? Why was he at the south gate with a squad of warriors and this other man? And how was Chase supposed to get out of this?! He’d just come face-to-face with their enemy himself! It wasn’t like he could fight his way out of this. The King undoubtedly had warrior training, probably the best in all of Glasúil. Sure, Chase had his bow, and his hunting knife, but would that be enough? Not to mention, just standing near the King was overwhelming. Someone who loomed so large in everyone’s minds, for better or for worse...Chase felt frozen in his presence. He couldn’t...tear his eyes...away from him...

“I’m going to give you a choice.” The King put a hand on the sheath by his side. “If you give up now, you won’t die. If you try to fight...you won’t last long.”

The air felt electric, like the moment before the earlier lightning strikes. Chase didn’t move. He wanted to. But found he was unable to. And he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t look away.

Behind him, he felt movement. The King’s green eyes flickered away. “Get over here,” he said. No, commanded. But he wasn’t talking to Chase. No...he must have been talking to that other man. Chase felt a sharp movement, like a flinch, and then the other man walked around him, seeming a bit reluctant.

As the other man passed by his side, Chase decided to make a sudden, possibly very stupid, move.

With a single motion, he grabbed the man’s arm, pulling him back, and with his other hand he pulled his hunting knife out of its sheath. And he pressed it to the man’s neck. “St-stay back!”

The King actually looked surprised, clearly not expecting this. But then that surprise was replaced by rage. “You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled.

“Y-yea, well! Do you want to risk it?” Chase shuffled to the side, pulling the other man along with him. He could tell the man was afraid by how stiff he was standing. “Sorry,” he whispered. The man didn’t respond.

Once again, the King rested his hand on his sheath. He looked about ready to lunge at him, but didn’t. Somehow reluctant. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt the man? Did he...care about him? No. That didn’t fit. Even though Chase had only been standing in the King’s presence for less than a minute, he instinctively knew there was very little the King cared about.

Chase swallowed nervously. He continued to step to the side, circling around the King, who kept his green eyes locked on him. But he didn’t move. So Chase continued, backing up towards the south gate.

The warriors standing guard around the gate had snapped out of whatever trance they had been in earlier. Which meant that the moment they saw Chase appear, dragging someone along at knifepoint, they immediately reacted. One of them shouted out, “Hey!” Another added “Stop right there!” and all of them went for their weapons.

“Stand down.” The King appeared from the shadows, rejoining the group of warriors. At once, they all lowered their weapons, though many of them looked unhappy about that.

“Y-yea. That’s right!” Chase tried to sound brave. But his voice was trembling too much. “I’ll just...be on my way.” He inched towards the south gate, backing up and glancing over his shoulder every so often. The man didn’t resist as he continued to pull him along. “Just...don’t follow. Or else!”

The warriors were silent. So was the King. Chase kept glancing at him. Those green eyes were so bright, he could have sworn they were glowing. It was really hard to look away from them.

After what felt like ages, Chase hit the back of his head on the lowest part of the portcullis. He ducked, moving the knife a bit so the man could duck too, and backed out. And he was out. Standing on packed dirt instead of cobblestone, droopy-limbed trees surrounding him. He backed away for a while more. Just a little further—

A ball of bright light came soaring out of the gate. Chase shrieked and ducked to the side, dragging the man along with him. The glowing sphere hit the ground only an arm’s length away from where Chase had just been standing. The moment it impacted the packed dirt, it started rolling. Lightning arced from its surface, hitting the trees and ground. And it was coming right at him. “Shit!” Chase broke into a sprint, pulling the man along.

The lightning sphere followed them, gaining speed as they ran through the trees. And behind him, he could also hear footsteps and the sound of swords being unsheathed. The warriors were following them after all!

Chase pushed himself to go faster, eyes scanning the trees for any sign of the pond and the ground for any possible tripping hazards. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. It felt like the moment before the lightning struck the building he was in.

There! The packed dirt path they were running along grew wider, and ended at a wide body of water. The pond. As Chase rounded an especially large tree, he saw them. The rest of the Phantoms, all identified by their white masks. They were standing on and around a wide, flat boat, clearly getting ready to cast off. “Hey!” Chase shouted.

In unison, the Phantoms turned to look. “Chase!” A voice called. Henrik’s. Chase could see him standing on the boat and waving.

“We have a problem!” Chase gestured wildly behind him. That turned out to be unnecessary, because the approaching warriors and the strange lightning sphere were very clearly visible. Henrik swore. One of the other Phantoms started barking orders, and all the ones still standing on the shore climbed into the boat.

Chase put on a final, desperate burst of speed. The boat was starting to drift away from the shore. Just barely in time, he jumped aboard, legs scrambling, and he pulled the other man along with him. The Phantom giving the orders picked up a long, sturdy pole and physically pushed the boat away from land and out onto the water.

Back on shore, the lightning sphere suddenly burst, sending a circle of hot sparking energy outward. A few of the warriors near it yelped as they got shocked, and one fell over unconscious. All the rest ran right up to the water’s edge, some even wading in up to their knees. But the Phantoms had started rowing. And the warriors weren’t armed with bows. A few threw their swords or knives, but they only splashed into the water, ineffective.

The boat headed down the pond and reached the mouth of the river, where the current picked up and started helping the rowers. Eventually, the river curved, and the warriors disappeared.

Chase laughed. They’d done it. They’d actually gotten away with it. What a relief.

And immediately, he collapsed to the wooden floor of the boat as the pain in his ankle became unbearable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Out of the window?!”

“Yea.”

“And then you ran on it?!”

“Yea.”

Henrik shook his head, exasperated. “Well I suppose you had no other choice, if you wanted to get out of there. But it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

Chase tried to laugh, but only managed a slight chuckle. He and Henrik were sitting on a bench near the back of the boat—the ‘stern,’ apparently—where Henrik was busy taking care of his ankle. He’d put some salve on it to help with any swelling and then bandaged it, and already, Chase felt a wave of relief.

“So, how long until it’s healed?” Chase asked.

“Well if you had not run on it, it would’ve only taken a week or so. But with all that additional strain, it is hard to tell. Perhaps two weeks, perhaps three. We will see.”

“Alright.”

Even though this was a large boat, there was barely room for all sixteen of the Phantoms to stand without running into each other. Not to mention, their two new companions. Marvin, and that strange man that Chase had ended up dragging along with him. The former was pressed up against the very front of the boat—the ‘bow’—while the latter was sitting on the wooden floor near one of the walls.

“Who is he, anyway?” Henrik asked, nodding towards the strange man.

“I...don’t know. I just grabbed him,” Chase muttered.

“Grabbed him?”

“It was...the only thing I could think to do at the time,” Chase explained in a weak voice.

Henrik stared at the strange man. Then he looked at Marvin. Just in time to catch Marvin himself looking away from the man, as well. “I think they know each other,” he muttered.

“Marvin knows him?” Chase asked, surprised.

“I cannot say for sure. But there is something in the way he looks at him. It...reminds me of how he looked at Jackie and me. After we fought.” Henrik’s trailed off, sadness in his face. Then he looked back at Chase. “Why did you grab that man, anyway? What possible situation could have led to it?”

Chase opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The encounter with the King was still too close, too overwhelming. His head spun just remembering it. He needed some time to process it. “I can tell you later. For now, have you talked to Marvin yet?”

Henrik cleared his throat. “Well. We talked a little bit. When I got him away.”

“No. I mean actual talking. Not anything related to the rescue. That’s just...utility. Talking when you needed to, about things that were relevant.” Chase gave him a significant look. “You wanted to talk with him, right?”

Henrik hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I did. I...I need to.”

“Go do it, then. And I’ll tell you about anything you want to know afterwards.” Chase smiled encouragingly. “It’ll be fine. We’re on a boat, anyway, so it’s not like he can run away from it.”

Henrik let out a short, small laugh. “I do not think cornering someone when they cannot leave is the best thing to do. Though...I suppose, with Marvin, he may just jump off the edge if he does not want to hear from me.”

Chase gave him a friendly nudge. “Go on. I’ll watch, for support.”

“...thank you, Chase.” Henrik gave his hand a quick squeeze. Then he stood up and, weaving around the other groups of Phantoms sitting and standing around the boat, headed towards Marvin.

For a while, Chase watched them talk from a distance. He couldn’t hear what they were saying. But as he watched, their posture went from tense to relaxed. Marvin moved closer to Henrik and bumped against his shoulder. A friendly sort of gesture.

The sky ahead was beginning to clear, sunlight streaming down through gaps in the clouds. The river was calm, and there was no sign of any warriors following them.

And slowly, Chase relaxed. He leaned against the side of the boat and closed his eyes. He was already exhausted.

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xxxfoxflowerxxx · 3 years ago

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MCSM old art - part 1

I’ve just rewatched DanTDM’s play though of this game and it made me realise how much I miss it. I looked through my drawings on Procreate and realised I have a lot of MCSM as cats stuff but have never actually posted any of it. Around 4-5 years ago I made a MCSM cat au (I know there are others out there but I wanted to make one of my own ) it was originally a warrior cats au but I ended up getting rid of the idea and just sticking to them just being cats. So yeah , unfortunately I don’t have any of the really old art but I do have some on Procreate on my iPad which Iv’e had for around 2-3 years . Drawings will go in the order of oldest to newest. Please excuse the old art styles , some of them are quite…. Odd looking but there are some pictures I’m quite proud of.

First one is a picture of Romeo (of course). He’s probably the character I’ve drew the Most. I don’t know why lol he’s just a fun character to draw. This is the oldest MCSM picture i could find and wow my art style has really changed over the years . I might redraw this at one point but maybe not put all the versions of himself all crammed into one picture of him. There’s just too much going on in the picture.

Next are some character sheets of the main characters (I didn’t end up Drawing one for Ivor :( ). I do plan on updating these designs in later drawings (Jesse’s design has already been updated but ill draw them again anyway)

I can’t remember if I did this drawing before or after the character sheets of the main lot but it was drawn around the same time. This was a character sheet of the three admins and actually my first time creating a design for Xara and Fred cuz in the old old version i only created a design for Romeo. I guess it’s because it was around the time MCSM season 2 was still being released and i just didn’t know much about the characters.

These posts have a picture limit so I’m gonna have to make this into 2 parts (hopefully not 3 lol)

#mcsm jesse #mcsm art #mcsm au #mcsm xara #mcsm admin #mcsm romeo #minecraft story mode #mcsm lukas #mcsm olivia #mcsm axel

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systlinsideblog · 3 years ago

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Part 5

Systlin slept.

She always dreamed in vivid detail; scents, sounds, touch. Often, the dream felt quite real, until of course she woke.

This dream was warm. The warmth of the feather bed, of the blankets. The pleasant warmth from the summer breeze blowing through the open window. The warmth, most of all, of Foicatch.

She rested her cheek against the solid warmth of his chest, eyes closed. The beat of his heart, the tickle of the hairs on his chest against her nose, the smell of his skin, were all as vivid as reality.

He smelled faintly of smoke; he'd been in the forge, then. He didn't need to, of course. Hadn't, for a long time. A Bloodguard earned quite enough to hire a smith for whatever they might need, and a King Consort had the royal smith at his disposal.

But Foicatch, before any of that, had been the son of a master carpenter, and a smith's apprentice. He wore the tattoo on his arm that proclaimed his journeyman status proudly, even after two years spent in a city guard, a decade and more in the Bloodguard, and another twenty years as King Consort.

He rather liked rubbing it in the faces of some of the high lords and high ladies, to be quite honest. A smith was an honored craftsman. And he liked the forge. He liked watching the colors of the flames, the smell of hot metal and smoke, the steam from the quench tank. He liked the sound of the hammer and the feel of it in his hand. And so, quite often, the King Consort of the Northern Lands, the father of the heir to the Throne of the North, would go down to the royal smithy and serve as assistant to the master smith of Stellas Keep.

He joked sometimes that he was still working for his master-craft tattoo. It was, Systlin knew, not entirely a joke.

She pressed her cheek against the solid warmth of him. His hand was moving, fingertips stroking her spine from nape of neck to small of back and back up.

His fingers were rough, both from a sword and from the forge hammer. Systlin liked that about them, and how strong they were.

The sensation of his heartbeat under her cheek, the lingering glow of pleasure shared, and the fingers stroking her back were glorious. She hummed in pleasure, and felt him chuckle softly.

"Little cat." He said, teasingly. "You're purring."

"Mmm." She kept her eyes closed. She was the Queen Regnant of the North, had fought two wars, held the high lords in check mainly through fear of her and had earned the love of the common folk by shedding blood and sweat for them. She was a Breaker, the first in centuries, and rumored to be the most powerful yet to live. She held that power, and herself, on a tight leash.

But here, in the bedroom she shared with her husband, it all melted away for a little while.

She wondered, yet again, if he knew just how much he was the center of sanity that kept her moored and grounded. She had told him, of course, but still.

Foicatch shifted. She made a sound of protest, and he tweaked the gold ring in her ear playfully. She sat up reluctantly, eyeing the matching bond-ring in his ear and contemplating tugging back.

"I have something for you." His voice was soft.

She raised an eyebrow. He rolled to the side; she appreciated the shift of his muscles under his skin as he did so. He was a wonderfully built man.

"Here." He took something from the bed-table, and turned back to her. "I made this today."

'This' was a small round piece of iron. It was beautifully made, twisted threads of wire in a complicated interlinked pattern of knots. In the center was engraved the eight-pointed star of her family. It was strung on a chain, and clearly meant to be worn as a pendant.

"You made it?" She put it on happily.

"I purified the steel from ore myself. And quenched it in water mixed with a drop of my own blood. I burned three of my hairs, three of yours, and three of Serra's on it, for the forge spirits." He ducked his head a little, as if embarrassed. "They'll protect you, if you wear it."

It was an old ritual, Systlin knew. Hairs from her head, his, and their child, offered to the forge-spirits for protection. His own blood in the quench-tank, to keep away rust and wear.

"I know you don't need it." He was saying, still seeming embarrassed. "But..."

She kissed him. Hard and at length.

"Thank you." She told him, when they finally came up for air. He smiled, his face lighting up like the sun, and kissed her again....

Systlin woke.

The furs next to her were empty, of course. On her breast, the iron of the pendant Foicatch had made her long ago was as cold as ice.

The loneliness hit her like a brick, but there wasn't time to dwell on it.

From outside the wagon there was a cry of alarm.

She was on her feet and had her weapons in hand before it faded. There were sounds of a struggle from outside, and she was moving, barefoot and wearing her sleeping tunic, reactions honed by decades of experience engaged instantly.

It was coming from the rear of the wagon. The wood that made the wagon was sturdy, but it was roofed in canvas. Even as she leapt towards the sound of the commotion, a knife blade was stabbed through the canvas to slice a way into her wagon.

The wood of the wagon was sturdy.

That did not matter, to a Breaker, in the slightest.

The rear wall of the wagon fractured violently into a million splinters as she Broke it; she closed her eyes and raised an arm to protect them as she dove through the cloud of them.

She went low out of sheer instinct. Dove through the splinters, hit the ground outside in a shoulder roll and was back on her feet in an instant. Spun, taking in the scene before her.

A woman was on the ground, her throat slit. Another was crying the alarm, pointing to the wagon. A man was struggling to regain his feet as splinters rained down around him; he must, she surmised, have been climbing the back wall of her wagon. A knife lay beside him.

A second man was stumbling backwards, caught off guard by the explosion of splinters. He was armed with a quiva and a lance.

He saw her, and his eyes widened.

The cold light clarity of battle was setting in already. Systlin bared her teeth in a horrible parody of a smile, and lunged.

She was faster than him. She was better trained than him. She had the element of surprise.

It was a credit to his own skills that he managed to regain his footing and twist out of the way of the sword strike that would have gutted him. It was even more to his credit that he managed to parry the dagger strike that would have torn his throat open.

He did not dodge the knee kick. Systlin slammed her heel into his kneecap, and felt the crunch as bone gave way. He fell as the leg gave out, and lashed out savagely at her with his lance.

He was very fast. She was faster. Ice snapped down to parry the lance, and she sank her dagger to the hilt in his neck, just above the collarbone.

Then she was past him, and advancing on the stunned man struggling to find his breath again. He'd fallen a good eight feet from the top of her wagon, and the wind had been knocked out of him. He was bleeding in a dozen places, from where splinters had driven into flesh.

He saw her coming, and reached for the knife. She smiled at him, baring her teeth in the sheer bloody delight of battle, and stepped on the weapon, kicking it away.

"I was wondering," she told him, even as her guards finally arrived with weapons drawn. "how long it would take you bastards."

An hour later, the bound prisoner had been carted away. The corpse had been disposed of, and Systlin was back to bed.

They'd both been men granted freedom for apparent good behavior. To be honest, she'd known that some of them were acting, and had expected this.

It had been some time since she'd had assassins try to kill her in the night. It was rather refreshing, actually. Her aunt had always maintained that regular practice was needed to keep skills sharp.

The chill had faded from her pendant. She held it, for a long moment, imagining for a moment that she could still smell him, could still feel his touch.

She reached up and touched the rings in her ear...two of them, one a gold ring set with a ruby, the second silver, and set with sapphire. Foicatch wore a matching sapphire bond-ring. Sura wore a matching ring of ruby.

How long had she been here? Four weeks now?

Systlin Stellas, Queen of the Northern Lands, was not given to tears. But even so, as she lay in her bed alone, she felt wetness on her cheeks.

Come morning, when she had the prisoner dragged before her as she held court in the open space before her wagon, she had composed herself again.

The man who'd tried to kill her was not the only prisoner present. She'd had the men who'd not yet been freed dragged before her too, and set where they could watch. They were silent, and stoic. Systlin had come to expect that of them.

Despite this, of course, she noted with some pleasure that the presence of the severed head of her would-be assassin spiked on a lance set in the ground did seem to draw their eyes.

She smiled pleasantly at them. She'd learned years ago that it unnerved people when she did this.

"I am honestly surprised," she said. "That it took you this long."

The bound prisoner spat at her feet. She ignored this.

"I would like to publicly recognize," she continued, "Dina of Turia, who was clever enough both to recognize that an attempt would likely be made, and to think of setting guards at the rear of my wagon as well as the front."

Dina smiled brilliantly at the praise, and brought her lance to her forehead in salute. Her smile faltered, though; Systlin knew that she'd insisted on arranging for the death-rites of the slain guardswoman personally.

"I am sorry, Ubara." She said. "That your guards failed to stop them."

Systlin shook her head. "You cannot expect to best trained warriors after a month of practice. I have said as much. But they saw the men, and warned me, and it was clever of you to deduce where such an attack might be made."

That got another smile. "I have lived among Tuchuks." She said. "I've learned how they think."

"Now, of course, we deal with you." Systlin stood, and drew her sword. The prisoner met her eyes, defiant.

"Go on, sleen." He said. "You are no Ubara."

"Ah. Of course. Because I have not killed your former Ubar." She smiled at his shock, and in the gathered prisoners there were many suddenly wide eyes. "What? You think that I've not spoken to people? You think that the other women didn't tell me? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Shock, from many of the men. But from the women, mocking laughter.

"It is a situation easily remedied." She smiled at him, and then planted her feet and cut, swift and hard, pivoting from the hips.

Ice cut through muscle and bone quite easily. The head hit the ground with a thump and rolled. Systlin ignored the body as it fell, and pointed towards the prisoners with the bloodied blade of Ice.

"You," she said, still smiling. "Kamchak, is it? Ubar of the Tuchuks?"

The man met her eyes steadily. She saw anger there, but no fear. He was, if nothing else, brave.

"A lesson I learned long ago." She told him. "Is that a queen with no people who follow her is no queen at all. And you, former Ubar, have barely a handful of men loyal to you. I have six thousand loyal to me. So who, here, is Ubara?"

He spat.

"But I am willing," she continued, "to do this properly. It will be a pleasure, even." She nodded to her guards. "Remove his chains, and give him weapons. If he wants his position back, he can fight me for it."

There was a roar from the gathered women, and Systlin smiled as Kamchak's eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth right back at her.

We had known, of course. It had been whispered about camp, and the men who had managed to convince the women to free them had consulted Kamchak many times in the previous days. It had been done quietly, of course; Tuchuks are clever.

On the night that the attack was to occur, we of course heard the commotion, as the wagon we were chained to was not far distant from that claimed by Systlin. Adjacent to it, in fact, as I seemed to be of special interest to her and she apparently wished to keep me under close scrutiny.

I had asked for Kamchak to at least be chained near me. The request had been granted. We sat practically on, indeed, the flat space of grass before the great wagon that she used as her court.

We heard, quite quickly, that it had failed. Systlin sent out messengers immediately, and spent an hour before her wagon in plain view of any and all who wished to see that she lived.

She was wearing a brief silk tunic, as she had no doubt been startled from sleep. Her legs were strong; far too strong for Gorean tastes, but still shapely. The image was somewhat marred by the blood that had dripped down her thigh as she carried the head of her slain enemy to the lance fixed in the turf for this purpose.

The second man who'd attempted the attack was dragged to the grass before her, chained hand and foot and hand to foot, and tied down to lances sunk deeply into the turf.

The women, I noted, did not cringe so any longer when shouted at by an angry warrior. His cries of rage were ignored.

I noticed, for the first time, how well formed were the muscles of the women. I supposed that the hard work at camp and the running after the kaiila of their masters had always left the girls in excellent physical form. Had the last month of their play at weapons truely wrought such a change, though?

Or had the girls always been so fit, and I had simply not seen them drag a grown warrior by his hair before?

Systlin sat there holding court, clad in red silk and the blood of a slain warrior, a man who'd been sent to kill her bound before her, the firelight casting flickering shadow and light over the scene, seated on the furs and pillows as if they were a throne of gold and rubies.

She met my eyes once, in the shadows, and her smile was a terrible thing to behold.

For the first time since the she-demon had arrived, I understood how such a creature could be called a queen.

It's said on Gor that a woman who enjoys the touch of silk is a slave at heart. I wondered if the man who had first said it had ever seen a woman wearing silk and the blood of a slain enemy. I found myself, for the first time in a great while, doubting the phrase.

Come morning, of course, we were dragged to court. And there, of course, Systlin killed the warrior who'd attempted to kill her before all the Tuchuk. I had supposed as much would happen, once I had heard of the failure of the attack.

I had not supposed that she would call out Kamchak, or agree to fight him.

Kamchak, of course, accepted.

As the corpse of the executed warrior was removed from the circle, I realized that I had never yet seen the she-sleen truly fight.

"Be careful," I said to Kamchak.

He nodded, once. She was only a woman, of course, and he was proud...but I saw him narrow his eyes at her, thoughtful, as his chains were removed.

He was sly, the Ubar of the Tuchuks. I knew this.

"It is unfair." He said, as his ankle chains were unlocked. "You wear armor, and I am nearly naked."

Systlin smiled, just a twitch of her lips, and removed the red larl-hide cloak, and her leather vest. The glittering shirt of strange scales was brilliant in the sun. I could see no two scales of precisely the same shade.

She bent at the waist and wriggled out of the armor, leaving her in just the padded shirt that went under the armor. She unsheathed her dagger and spun it around the back of her hand, quicker than the eye could follow, the hilt sliding neatly back into her hand as the spin finished.

"There." She said. "Choose whatever weapons you please."

Kamchak observed her, eyes narrow, for some time. Then at last, he spoke. "Lance," he said, "And quiva."

Systlin nodded, and weapons were brought.

"You have the sun at your back," Kamchak observed. "So that it will shine in my eyes."

"Yes." She answered him calmly, matter of fact. She made no offer to change the situation.

"That is wise. I would do the same."

She inclined her head perhaps an inch in acknowledgement.

"If I defeat you, I will simply kill you." He informed her. "You are too dangerous to make a slave, witch."

She smiled at that, showing teeth.

"I suppose if I seized one of these women as hostage, you would simply overpower me with sorcery." He stretched, and weighed quiva and lance in his hands.

"Of course."

Kamchak approached her, cautious. Systlin waited, and I saw her shift her weight slightly. She was balanced on the balls of her feet, I saw, her legs spread slightly in a way that would give her stable footing and allow her to move any direction at the slightest notice.

"Tarl Cabot," Kamchak said, and I started. "It would be a terrible thing, should this witch slay me, and no one else know that which you seek is currently within my own wagon, and has often served me as throne."

I started; the gray, leathery thing that I had supposed was a bundle of old leather, and which Kamchak often sat upon?

Of course, it was like a Tuchuk, to hide such a treasure in the most clever of ways...

There was a ring of metal on metal, and I was torn from such thoughts. Kamchak had hurled a quiva, as he had at me once upon a time. And as I had, Systlin had apparently seen the throw coming, though it was so quick as to be missed upon blinking. She had moved, just as quickly, and the ringing had been her sword meeting the quiva in mid-air, and parrying it to the side.

I had seen her before in bits and flashes in the battle that terrible night, and later executing bound prisoners. Her form with a blade, I had thought, was good.

I had been wrong before. Her form with a blade was excellent, and beyond excellent.

It struck me, as she nimbly dodged a striking lance and the slashing blow of a second quiva, Kamchak bringing it up and around in a hidden strike close on the heels of his lunge with the lance, that she would have compared favorably with the best of the warriors of Ko-ro-ba.

As she danced in, light and nimble, and drove him back on his heels with a vicious, lightning quick series of strikes, it occurred to me that she was likely quicker on her feet than even I.

The sword and dagger at once was not a common combination on Gor, but the she-sleen used them to devastating effect. One may parry while the other attacks, and attack may follow attack without the slightest moment of respite. Equally, both may be used to turn aside blows given in return, though this relies upon the warrior being quick and nimble and possessed of excellent timing.

Systlin was all three. She was quick, marvelously quick. She was nimble, her footing flawless. Her timing was precise and deadly.

Within the first exchange, she had opened a deep bleeding slash into Kamchak's arm with that dagger, and as he fought to hold those biting blades off the sword slipped around and opened a cut into his thigh.

Kamchak's lance gave him reach, and he was quick on his feet as well. As she pivoted neatly around his lance and cut for his neck with a vicious flat slice of her sword, he threw himself to the side unexpectedly and hurled his quiva, at nearly point blank range.

She saw, and with a degree of control over her body and momentum that I had thought nearly impossible checked her momentum and changed direction, but still the quiva opened a cut across the front of her thigh.

Both warriors fell back, eyeing one another. Kamchak was serious, deadly so. Systlin was grinning, and I have seen that grin before on the battlefield.

Only warriors who truly delight in the fight smile so.

As we watched, the she-sleen lowered her hand, dipped two fingers into the blood flowing from her wound, and drew them across her cheek, smearing scarlet like war-paint across her skin.

"U-BAR-A!" There was chanting from the massed Tuchuk. A few, though, including the other still-imprisoned warriors, were crying "U-BAR!"

"You are good." Kamchak admitted.

Systlin simply grinned, and began circling. If the pain of her wound was troubling her, she did not reveal it.

Twice more they clashed, and twice more the she-sleen opened up wounds on Kamchak and then retreated to resume her circling. Kamchak did not manage to wound her a second time in these clashes.

I realized to my horror, as she closed the third time and hooked a blow of the lance out of the air as neatly as one could please, simply to rotate around and drive her elbow viciously into the back of Kamchak's skull, that she was toying with him.

Kamchak knew as well, as she retreated to resume that relentless circling again. The blow had dazed him for a moment, and she could have slain him on the spot, but she only pricked him yet again with that dagger, opening a slash across the back of his shoulder to join the half-dozen others he was bleeding from.

"Sleen." He panted.

"I prefer" she said, still smiling that cold and vicious smile, "to be called 'Queen'."

And with that, she moved in again.

Kamchak was a great warrior, and a canny one. Kamchak fought well. Kamchak fought with a skill that would have been credit to any warrior of Ko-ro-ba. Kamchak fought with skill and speed and guile. But no man can stand forever when bleeding from a dozen wounds.

Kamchak fought well. Kamchak fought bravely. And Kamchak died, a warrior of the Tuchuk, without begging or crying out in pain, when the she-sleen tired of the game.

She did not quite behead him. When his guard dropped, dragged down by exhaustion and blood loss, she cut again with that strange sword and opened his throat clear back to the bones of his spine.

Kamchak, Ubar of the Tuchuk, fell. I did not look away as his life bled out across the grass; I owed him that much.

Systlin turned to us as Kamchak fell, fierce and furious.

"There lies your Ubar." She cried this out, and I knew at once that she was used to speaking so that her voice would carry over battlefields. "Now we will have done with this! Is there anyone else among you who would challenge me? Because now is the time! If you wish to avenge your men, if you wish to claim the Ubar title...now is the fucking time! Because the next time I have to get out of bed to an assassination attempt, I am going to slow roast the balls of anyone involved and feed them to you."

Silence.

"Then." She hissed. "Who is the fucking Ubara here?"

I could say nothing, and I was not the only one to look away.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

Three days later

“Fuck.” Systlin dug her fingertips into her temples. She could feel a headache coming on, and it was only midmorning. “Fuck. What is wrong with this place?”

Dina gave an apologetic sort of shrug. “I cannot answer that for you, Ubara. But the Tuchuk had been preparing for the Love Games for some time, and it is considered the event of events on the plains. We could simply move the bosk on and skip it, though it will be noted.”

Systlin gritted her teeth. Her new warriors were not well trained enough to put up against those who had been trained, as she had, since they were old enough to hold swords. They were eager, she knew, but simply not yet ready for such a fight. It would be a slaughter, and she would not have it.

“Abominable fucking tradition.” She muttered. “What will happen to the Turian women placed at the stakes if we simply do not show?”

Her advisors glanced at each other and shrugged. “I do not know, Ubara.” Said Shayla, a fiercely intelligent woman. She had a keen mind for numbers and a genius for organization, and Systlin had promptly snapped her up to assist with logistics. Her former and very deceased master had kept her in a length of nearly transparent silk that barely counted as a scarf; now she wore a long bosk-wool skirt and a conservatively cut tunic, and her hair was braided and pinned up in a coil. “But I am not Turian.”

“It would be counted as a win for the Turian champions.” Dina said. “And they will be free to go. But the Tuchuk will be marked as cowards, and runners will be sent to investigate.”

“Ah.” Systlin relaxed a bit. “Well. That’s no problem. I don’t care what they think of us for now, and a few runners are easily disposed of. We simply do not go, then, and we will come back and deal with Turia when the warriors are ready.”

“The Turians,” interjected Mettna, a Tuchuk Free Woman. She also had a keen mind for logistics, and was the matriarch of a large extended family with many ties throughout the Tuchuk. Gorean laws or not, she ruled her family uncontested, and her word was law among them. Even her teenaged sons and nephews bowed their heads when she fixed them with a flinty stare. “Will consider the women the Tuchuk would have placed at the stakes theirs by default, and they will come looking for them.” A dark look; her youngest daughter Hireena had been among those intended for the stakes. “They take pleasure in breaking us to the collar and chain.”

Systlin’s hand tightened reflexively on her dagger. “If they come looking,” She said. “I’ll make drinking bowls of their skulls, and send the rest of them back to Turia.”

“Good.” A nod. “I simply wanted you to know, Ubara.”

“And it is appreciated.” Systlin tilted her head at Dina. “It would be good practice for the warriors. Fighting for real with your life on the line is much different than doing it in practice. I know that you are impatient, Dina, but I didn’t learn in a month either.”

Dina nodded. “When DO you think…” she trailed off.

“A year, perhaps.” Systlin shrugged. “It depends on how hard you train, and how many chances there are to raid and test yourself in small skirmishes. You’ve all thrown yourselves in heart and soul, and are progressing remarkably. Keep training, and you’ll be flaying slave masters sooner than you think.”

Dina looked mollified at that.

“So it is decided then. We continue to move over the grazing grounds, bide our time, gather our strength, train, and ignore this abomination called “Love Games.” Systlin nodded to each of them. “Ah, Shayla. I had meant to ask…you had located the stocks of that stuff you call the ‘releaser?’ And the stuff you call ‘sip-root?’”

“We have, Ubara. One or two of the women have requested the releaser. I gave it to them. I hope that was not…”

“Not at all. Such things are entirely up to the individual. Continue to distribute it to any who ask, and notify me if stocks run low. I am not adverse to raiding for more supplies of any sort, should they be needed. How many men remain living?”

“Thirty two of adult years. Many more nearing adulthood, though many of them have been…difficult. There will be problems there, Ubara.”

“I know. But those will be dealt with as they come. Children have not owned slaves or raped women yet, and I’ll not punish them for their upbringing. There’s hope of teaching them better yet.” She tapped her fingers against her thigh thoughtfully. “Your siproot, quite honestly, rather reminds me of stoneseed, from my own world.”

“And Silphium.” The woman named Elizabeth put in abruptly. “From mine. The Romans…an empire, some two thousand years ago…used it so much that it was harvested to extinction, but it was apparently quite effective.” She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “I wonder…if this siproot was grown on Earth…there’s so many who don’t have access to birth control yet. It’s a hardy plant. It could change so many lives for the better.”

Systlin raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. Stoneseed is considered a basic stock necessity for any civilized place on Ellinon, as siproot seems to be here. What is done then on Earth, to prevent unwanted children?”

“Well.” A helpless sort of shrug. “We’ve pills that work well, and barrier devices, but…well, in some places there’s not much, and while we’ve plants too many are toxic or don’t work well. So, in those places there’s just…nothing.”

Systlin hissed through her teeth in disapproval. “It’s a worthy thought, then. But before we can figure out how to return you to your own world, we must set this one to rights.” She rose, as did the other women in the wagon. “Thank you all. We will speak again later.”

Outside the wagon, she found her kailla, mounted, and went for a ride around the perimeter of the camp. She’d taken to doing so regularly; an early and hard lesson had been that people need to see their leaders.

Her father had ignored this fact. He’d died for it, with her brother, and the northern lands had dissolved into war for a decade.

After her circuit of the camp, she went to the field where the fighters were training. A few of the freed men had offered to help teach, and were so far proving helpful. Systlin had been dubious; the women of this place were so conditioned to expect nothing but brutality at a man’s hands that she’d wondered if it wouldn’t cause more harm than good. However, it seemed, after some tentative starts, to be helping both sides. The women were faster losing their ingrained flinching cringe when a man moved towards them, and the men, she knew, had been stunned by how quickly the women took to training. She’d heard them speaking to the still chained men about it, and arguing. She’d seen them as well cuff and get into yelling matches with a few of the sullenly furious teenaged boys who were nearing manhood, and had found their expected power ripped away in a moment.

The man named Carl Tabot was there too. He was still chained, foot to foot, and was simply allowed to correct errors when he saw them. She’d contemplated killing him; she was certain, in her bones, that he was guilty of the same atrocities of most of the other men. But she’d no proof, and the man was a skilled warrior; she’d only broken his leg rather than killed him for that, and because she’d noted the first time he spoke that he was not of these wagon people.

He spotted her, and glowered. She was more than certain that he’d happily stick a knife through her throat in her sleep if he thought he could get by with it. She smiled at him in return, the sharp, worrying flash of teeth that was famed and feared across the sands and the northern lands. He flinched, and glowered at her.

Fuck, but she would have given anything to have Foicatch there. The ingrained misogyny of this world ran deep, and she knew that words from a man would be more seriously taken than her words, however thoroughly she demonstrated that she was, in fact, the new superior power on this planet.

Actually, the idea was quite amusing. The men of this place had made it quite obvious what they thought of being ‘true men’, and that men not like them were ‘weak’ and ‘unmanned’. Foicatch, all six feet three inches and two hundred fifty granite-hewn, deadly warrior-trained pounds of him, could hardly ever be called either. But, like most real men, Foicatch was quite secure in himself and felt little need to loudly proclaim it for everyone to hear. He was, really, far more even-tempered and easygoing than she. He’d be mostly bemused by the arrogant, angry posturing and bellowing and rage of the men of this shithole.

Until he was not. It took a great deal to rouse Foicatch’s ire, but once roused it was terrible.

Systlin entertained the thought of one of the sullen, angry Tuchuk boys being dangled from one of ‘Catch’s hands, her beloved bellowing at the little shit, and smiled again in private amusement.

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troutfur · 3 years ago

Note

❛ i hate what i’ve become. ❜ Hollyleaf

Here you go anon, your request I owed you from weeks ago. As before this is a part of a bigger whole I'm writing in response to a prompt by @foxstride for the Warrior Cats rarepairs collection.

It’d been a moon since Hollyleaf escaped into the tunnels. Though she was getting better, already able to sit on her own nest and take short walks, the pain still remained. Both of the WindClan siblings insisted on visiting her, though since Kestrelflight’s fears had proven to be true, his visits had to be much more sporadic.

Heathertail brought her fresh-kill most days. Though Hollyleaf had long since stopped trying to argue, Heathertail had a retort ready at the tip of her tongue were she ever to try. Hollyleaf had, afterall, declared herself not to be a Clan cat anymore, thus Heathertail saw no reason for her to fuss about her violations of the Warrior Code.

As her recovery progressed, Hollyleaf found herself missing the newly minted full medic ever more. Heathertail could relay her brother’s instructions for her exercises, but it wasn’t the same as having him tending to her. At least she could help her navigate the tunnels to keep her from getting bored. She knew them like the smell of her own nest.

“Why won’t you tell us what’s bothering you so much?” she asked one day. “You’re always going on about how what you did was unforgivable, but how can you be so sure when you aren’t even telling anyone what you need forgiveness from?”

Hollyleaf lowered her gaze. “You couldn’t possibly understand it.”

“If you don’t explain it, I can’t, obviously,” she replied. “If anything could you just… tell me why you don’t want to say?”

“It’s because… I hate what I’ve become,” she replied.

“You don’t have to let it define you, you know?” Heathertail paused, giving Hollyleaf a chance to pad up to her. The WindClan molly lay her tail upon her back, gently nudging her to turn around.

“But I already did! I wanted to prevent the truth from coming out, but then I turned around and revealed it anyway.” When they reached her nest again, Hollyleaf lowered herself with care, then released a long, drawn-out breath. “And I confessed to my brothers already, they’ve probably told the whole Clan by this point and they’ll never forgive me.”

Heathertail sat on her haunches just in front of Hollyleaf’s nest. “Lionblaze may be a brute, but even if what you did was really that horrible, I doubt he’d want to tarnish your reputation like that. I can’t tell you about Jayfeather but the way Kestrelflight talks about him, I doubt he would either.”

“You can’t know for sure,” Hollyleaf muttered, turning her head away.

“You know what?” Heathertail said, releasing a breath from her nostrils. “You’re right, I can’t because you insist on not telling me.”

There was a pause before Hollyleaf could hear the pawsteps on the stone as Heathertail headed back up the WindClan tunnel.

#warrior cats #wc #warrior cats au #heathertail #hollyleaf #fanfiction

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

Text

Omega Mine

TITLE: Omega Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 8/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Loosely based on: Imagine Loki discovers the Avengers have an omega who has healing powers living with them. He’s an Alpha and he wants her, badly.

RATING: M (eventually )

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

You made sure your hand was on Loki’s sleeve, not his direct skin. That didn’t seem to help. His presence and power were calling to you. You felt it wrap around you, like a blanket of protection and safety. “Lead the way, Elske,” Loki bid you warmly, his voice that same seductive purr. Was he doing it on purpose? Or was his voice just like that? You’d find out in time.

You nodded and started the tour of the tower, with Thor trailing behind you as a chaperone. You and Loki both insisted that you didn’t need a chaperone, but you knew that Thor was trying to do what was best. It was standard around an unclaimed Omega, especially when it was clear how strongly you and Loki were drawn to each other. Until you’d gone through the formalities of accepting or rejecting Loki’s claim, it was best if there was a chaperone, just in case.

So you had a choice of accepting or rejecting the claim. If hormones and pheromones took control… That choice could very well be taken from you, permanently. Once an Alpha’s claim was made, it was irreversible.

So better safe than sorry.

Even if it did make Loki puff up like an offended cat to have a chaperone.

“Did Agent Romanoff say you had training, Elske?” Loki asked you as you showed him the kitchen and dining room. Usually, Thor addressed women as ‘Lady’. It seemed it was also appropriate for the Asgardians to use their titles. You learned something new every day. Loki’s voice was polite, interested, caring. He wanted to get to know you, just as you wanted to know the Alpha who called to you so strongly.

You nodded and smiled up at him. You saw his gaze soften when you looked up into his eyes. He may be hard and puffed up around Thor, but he succumbed to an Omega’s aura just like any Alpha. Though perhaps moreso as he had calmed quickly just by looking at you. “Talia insisted that I need to learn some basic self defense, especially living with the Avengers,” you explained to him. Nat had given you permission to use a nickname for her and Talia had come from her full Russian name of Natalia. It was rare for Nat to allow people to use nicknames, and which nickname she allowed spoke a lot of her relationship with that person. General people she liked were allowed to call her Nat. Only Clint was allowed to call her Tasha. And only Bucky was allowed to call her Natal’ka.

Loki looked concerned. “I agree with her wholeheartedly. No one, not even a darling little omega, should be unaware of how to defend themself.” He sounded so firm on the subject that you had a feeling he was going to be insisting on training you as well. You already had so many lessons with various members of the team. Nat was teaching you hand to hand self defense. Pepper had been dropping by to help you learn how to conduct yourself during interviews, galas, and press conferences. Clint was teaching you how to shoot an arrow, though that was just for fun. Bucky was teaching you how to handle a knife.

“Omegas learn such things on Asgard?” You asked him curiously. You wanted to learn more about his home world. You’d gotten a bit of information from Thor and interviews and books, but you weren’t sure how much of that was true.

Loki inclined his head. “All Asgardians must learn to protect themselves at least well enough to hold off an attack until a trained warrior can come to their aid. Even the most timid Omega or most pampered noble lady,”

“Sounds like a lovely place,” you said and meant it. Asgard sounded amazing from everything you’d heard about it.

You continued to chat with Loki as you showed him around the tower. You found out he liked books as much as you did and made sure to show him the library. Eventually, you cursed when you saw the time. “Sorry, Alphaloki, I’ve got to get to my lesson with Talia,” you said, Loki’s name and title coming out all one word in your rush.

Loki chuckled and took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “That is quite alright, Elske,” he told you warmly. “My idiot brother can finish giving me the tour,” he added, partially for Thor’s benefit to get a rile out of his brother. These two were going to be fun together. “And you do not need to use my title, Elskling,” he reassured you. Your nickname had changed and gotten more adorable. You found you liked it.

You also saw a glint in his eyes. Oh, there were times that he wanted to hear his title spoken, but you guessed from that glint that those times were behind closed doors.

You felt yourself blush at that realization. “I’ll see you later, Loki,” you said softly and after saying a quick goodbye to Thor, rushed off to get changed before you were late meeting Nat . It didn’t do to be upset the assassin. You liked staying on her good side.

While you were changing, you caught another look at your ring. It was nearly cracked in half. That definitely couldn’t be good. It was a backup measure for the pills you took every day to make sure you didn’t go into an unexpected heat. You’d had this suppression ring for years, though, so maybe it was just old? You’d have to ask Nat. She seemed to know everything and had taken it upon herself to take care of you.

You made it to the training room just in time for your lesson. “Sorry, Talia,” you said, hating the idea of making her wait.

She gave you a warm smile. She was dressed in training gear as well. “You’re right on time, Meimei,” she reassured you.

You went over to her, tempted to nuzzle her and cuddle close. She was still presenting as an Alpha. You’d also had such a strange day with the pull to Loki that the draw to be cuddled by an Alpha was just as strong. She wrapped an arm around you when you were close enough. “Are you alright?” She asked gently.

“I don’t… I’ve never…” your thoughts were spiraling.

Nat pulled you closer and pet your hair. “Breathe, Meimei. It’s just us,” she soothed. “Breathe,” she was gentle as she pet your hair and soothed you, clearly knowing how to care for an upset Omega. Once your breathing had calmed, she spoke again. “Now, what’s bothering you? Did Loki do something?”

You shook your head. “No, he’s been perfectly polite. I just… I’ve never felt pulled to an Alpha like that before,”

You heard the smile in Nat’s voice when she spoke again. “It’s perfectly natural, Meimei. Just remember, you have a choice whether you want him to claim you or not, no matter what your instincts tell you. We’ll all accept any decision you make,” she reassured you.

“I… I’m not ready to make a decision yet,” you admitted. You’d only just met Loki. Much as your hormones begged for you to fuck him and beg for his knot, you weren’t ready for that intellectually.

“A wise decision,” Nat agreed.

You looked up at her and showed her your ring. “My ring is breaking, though. I don’t know if it’s just old…”

“I’ll get you a new one,” she promised. “Take an extra dose of suppressants at dinner tonight, just to be safe,”

You nodded and felt more settled. With that taken care of, you finally got to your lesson, trying to put the handsome god out of your mind.

And failing miserably.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #Omega mine #chapter 8 #nekoamamori

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elles-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Enchanted forest - young!Thranduil x reader - Day 12

Enchanted forest

Pairing: Thranduil x reader

Warnings/triggers: -

Genre: kinda fluff?

Word: Enchanted forest – Day 12/13

Word count: 2740

A/N: Maybe part 2? Also, I’m not really feeling the best rn, so I will quickly edit this and post it. (I was too tired to post it yesterday, so I’m posting it today. I wanted it to be more poetic, but I don’t know.)

Tags: @dumbassunderthemountain @artsywaterlily @moony-artnstuff @claraofthepen @trxblemaker

Message me if you want to be added/removed from taglist.

Ever since Thranduil was a child, there was something, that drawned him to Mirkwood forest. It wasn’t the danger, of course. He was surrounded by guards all the time so he was safe, being the only child and in the line for the throne.

Which also meant a lot of duties.

But every single night, he would look out of window to the darkness of the forest. He already tried to find out what it was. The palace was a safe place. Nobody would just walk in there by themselves, and Mirkwood didn’t affected anyone in this kingdom.

One night, he couldn’t sleep. He was tossing in his bed and many thoughts were running through his head. A few hours before, his father, Oropher, tried to talk to him about a marriage. Thranduil knew it was something that would come up sooner or later, but it still made his blood boiling. He was talking to some elven princesses of other realms, but he still felt too young for courting or a marriage.

After another sleepless hour, he decided to get up. The moonlight was stronger today – it was a full moon – so he would perhaps read for a while.

He took one of his books he had on his desk, and sat down, next to one of those big windows he had in his chambers. He looked out and let his thoughts to run through his head. He didn’t tried to catch any of them and think of it more, he just let them to slip away, and perhaps come back. It gave him some peace and helped him to clear his head a bit.

Suddenly, he noticed a movement outside in the dark. His eyes narrowed. It wasn’t a spider, this creature was smaller. It wasn’t an elf, because it wasn’t graceful at all. He narrowed his eyes.

A human.

He didn’t knew why, but quickly got up, book being forgotten. He quickly took his bow and arrows and his sword, then soundlessly moving as a cat, through the shadows of halls of his home. He knew his father was asleep at this time of the night, so he couldn’t stop him.

Once he made it outside of the gates, sneaking out, he noticed the human. He stayed in the shadows, through he was much closer than before. He was studying the human and his eyes widened.

A human woman, whom made it to the palace? What a strange thing, he softly scoffed. He didn’t trusted easily, and this was much more suspicious, though he felt a need to come closer and find out who she was.

You remembered going to the forest for a walk, when it was getting darker. You wanted to turn around and go back, but it felt like the forest was alive and your path was nowhere to be seen. You walked futher, hoping you’d find a way out.

You didn’t knew how much time passed, perhaps a few hours. Your legs were aching, your mind was tired and hazy and the only light was sky with stars. Soon after, the trees became so thick you couldn’t see almost anything, only a few feet ahead. Every sound was scaring you, you were tired, hungry and thirsty. It felt like the forest was endless.

Finally, you noticed a blue lights. You came closer to them, feeling warmth radiating from them. You shivered in fear, but also a cold. When did the forest became so cold, in the middle of summer?

You had no idea

Your mind was telling you to reach to them and touch them, you didn’t realized that the forest was playing with your mind. Once you touched the light by the tips of your fingers, you hissed. A strange pain and hot waves shot through your body and you fell down. You silently cursed yourself for touching it.

Your body was tingling, nothing else, so you got up and decided to walk futher. Your legs suddenly didn’t hurted, your steps became lighter and quicker, somehow. You didn’t even realized that, though. You were deep in the forest. There was only way - through, as way back was lost hours before.

After another few hours you stepped near some huge castle. You couldn’t believe it and let out a silent cry. Finally, a place where you could ask for help, and maybe they would let you to rest for a while.

Slowly, an uncomfortable feeling was creeping through your whole body. Something, or someone, was watching you. You looked around, trying to figure out the direction. It was still dark, but the castle had some lights on a different places. Small fires, to be exact. It reminded you of a fairies from legends.

Thranduil was watching her. Her clothes didn’t looked like anything he knew, and she seemed to be curiously looking over the castle. She had no weapons, as much as he could see. He narrowed his blue eyes. Suspicious. He decided to step out, bow and arrow prepared. Even if she would try anything, he would be quicker. He worked hard for many years, and used his natural abilities of being quick and swift. As a warrior, he was surely not one to be messed up with.

„What is a human doing in Mirkwood?“ He said, still in shadows. The woman turned around quickly and rose her hands.

„I-I’m sorry, I got lost in a forest...I’ve been lost for hours-“ She said. The young prince wasn’t really into too many adventures, he was rather serious. But there was something about this woman...

The next thing he knew was that he was picking her up and yelling to get a healer. She fell apart, her skin was cold and her breathing soft. He runned through the corridors, the guards looking after him.

Once he placed the woman to the bed, he felt the need to stay near her. When the healer arrived, he stood to the corner and his icy eyes were wondering back to her face, again and again. She was beautiful. She looks like a fairy, he thought.

Then, one of his father’s guards stepped in, nodding at him to go with him. Thranduil quickly looked at the woman. Her cheeks had a slight blush, and a slight warm feeling warmed him inside.

Once he stepped to the throne room, he knew there was something wrong. His father was turned by his back to him and all the guards left. It was only Thranduil and Oropher. Not like a prince and a king. Like a father and a son.

There was a moment of silence. Oropher was more temperament than Thranduil, and so he couldn’t hide his emotions the way Thranduil could. The young prince sensed a bit of anger and surprise in the air, his father was surely trying to hold his emotions back from bursting out. He was maybe waiting for Thranduil to say something, but he didn’t dared to say anything. No. Just not yet.

The king took a deep breath.

„I hope that you understand what you just did.“ Thranduil nodded, though Oropher couldn’t see him.

„You just woke up the whole castle, son. Why was that?“ Now was Thranduil a bit surprised. He thought the guards told his father what happened.

„There was a woman, Ada,“ Thranduil started carefully.

„She fell apart, so I took her inside. She had no weapons and she was weak.“ Oropher turned to him and studied his son for a while.

„Was she a human?“ Thranduil opened his mouth to answer, when a soud of knock on the door appeared in the throne room.

„Come in,“ Oropher said. A guard and healer came in.

„My king,“ Both of them bowed. The healer looked at Thranduil, nervous.

„The woman has woken up,“ She said. „she was asking for the man who helped her.“ Thranduil looked at Oropher, who seemed to be thinking about it.

„I will go with you, my son.“ He said.

When you woke up, you realized you were warm. You tried to move, but someone pushed you softly back.

„You need rest,“ You’ve overheard a voice. You frowned. This voice was too soft, it didn’t sounded much like human’s voice...

You opened your eyes and noticed a woman, who was folding some clothes. You noticed her ears, with sharp ends, soft long hair and delicate movements while folding the clothes. Your mind was hazy, but it wasn’t like back in the forest. This was a haziness from medication. You closed your eyes and drifted back to sleep.

In a while, you woke up again, from a nightmare this time. The woman was looking at you, concerned.

„Please, I need him, I need to-that blonde man, blue eyes, I-“ You tried to catch your breath and calm down. She handed you a glass with some liquid, smelling like herbs.

„Drink this, this will help you to calm down,“ You were carefully sipping it. It tasted sweet, like honey. Soon, you closed your eyes to slumber, once again.

When Thranduil stepped in, he went closer, to take a look at her. He didn’t knew who this woman was, where did she came from and all of that, but he knew he wanted to stay close to her. To protect her.

She seemed to be asleep. She looked calm and in peace. Thranduil looked for any injury, but didn’t found any. He noticed her ears though – they had a sharp edges, her skin was soft and delicate, her hair seemed to be soft too. She’s an elf, he thought.

Oropher looked down at her, too. He raised a brow.

„So a human woman, you said?“

„I probably didn’t noticed. It was dark.“

You started waking up from your slumber, hearing two male voices. One of them said something like ‚Leave us alone,‘.

You blinked your eyes, trying to recognize his face. He leaned a bit forward, carefully. You could tell he was ready to pull away, but there was also something gentle about his moves.

„Where-where am I?“ You whispered. Your whole body was aching, your ears were itchy for some reason, and you wanted to eat something.

„In Mirkwood palace...my lady,“ He said, carefully picking words.

„Oh, I’m Y/N, there’s no need to call me a lady,“ You said, blinking as your vision cleared. You gasped. He was beautiful. His long blonde hair, blue eyes, delicate features...

„Are you alright, lady Y/N? Should I call for the healer?“ He asked. You looked away and blushed.

„Uh, no, just...would you help me to sit up? Please?“ His arm slid on your back and helped you to sit up. You felt sudden cold on your skin and covered yourself more with the blanket. You looked down. You were in your underwear, and your cheeks burned red. You looked up and realized he did the same.

„I, uhm...who are you?“ You asked. He looked firmly to your eyes, not sliding down.

„I’m Thranduil, the prince of Mirkwood,“ He kissed your hand. You felt a warm feeling inside of your body. Little did you knew he felt the same thing.

A few strands of your hair slided down to your face and you quickly placed them behind your ear. Wait, you frowned. You touched your ear again. It was pointy. You shook your head.

„No...no, this cannot...this can’t be...“ Thranduil looked at you, concerned.

„Would you hand me a mirror, please?“ You asked. He handed you a small mirror and you looked into it. Your jaw fell down.

You were an elf.

You looked closely at your skin, soft, perfect skin, soft lips, delicate features, shiny hair and pointy ears. You looked up on Thranduil.

„I-I’m an elf? What happened?“ Now it was him who was confused. „What else should you be, my lady?“ You looked back at yourself. Your face looked familiar, but strange at the same time.

„What if we would take a walk, and explain to each other what happened? I’m sure that fresh air and some food will make you feel better,“ He offered. You slowly nodded and nervously smiled.

„Oh, I would like that very much,“ Thranduil nodded and placed the mirror on it’s place.

„Would you like to rest, or to go right now, lady Y/N?“ He asked, blue eyes questioning. Though you were still in shock, you nodded. If there will be some food and fresh air, it could actually only help you.

„I would like to go now, thank you. I need to put on some clothes, though,“ You said and the prince handed you a few folded pieces of clothing.

„I will wait outside, my lady,“ He said and left you alone. Once he was outside, he let out a breath. He never felt like this towards a woman. What was that warm feeling spreading inside, whenever she smiled? Oh, her beautiful name, Y/N. That sounded like a name of a fairy! Wait...he frowned...was this...how does love feels like? He didn’t knew what to do. He won’t go to his father, because he knew him way too well, and he would say something like „Oh, my boy has grown up!“ And celebrate it as his own personal accomplishment.

Making it more awkward than it was supposed to be, as always.

You looked through the clothes, finding a two long shirts, trousers, a dress and another dress. One of them were simple dark green, the other dress were in lavander colour, tiny golden leaves embroidered around the waist and little silver stars and golden moon crescents around the edges of elbow-length sleeves. You decided to put on these.

You found a brush here and brushed your hair quickly. Then you carefully opened the door, revealing yourself to the prince. Your cheeks were dusted by rosy blush, as his eyes widened at the sight of you. In his eyes, you were stunning.

Since then, after you told the prince and the king what happened to you, they let you to stay, since you didn’t knew where else to go. You and Thranduil got closer over time, sharing the same favourite places around the palace and in the garden.

One day, you’ve been sitting in the garned, under your favourite tree. You were reading a book, while Thranduil was pacing around, clearly nervous about something. You softly smiled.

„What’s bothering you, mellon?“ He looked at you and quickly looked away. You frowned, closed your book and stood up. They would teach you elvish customs and all of that you didn’t knew, Elvish too.

„Mellon,“ you looked deep to his icy blue eyes and felt familiar butterflies in your stomach. He sighed.

„Amin mella le, melamin,“ He whispered with serious expression, one of his hands softly cupping your cheek. You smiled.

„You know I don’t speak that well Elvish. What does it mean?“ He took a deep breath.

„I love you,“ He said. He was about to go away, but you gently took his hand.

„Amin mella le, melamin.“ You tried to repeat. He turned to you, surprised. You just nodded, nervous, with a smile. A smile appeared on his face, too.

„Will you allow me to court you then, Y/N?“ You nodded and you both sat back to the grass, Thranduil carefully braiding your hair. You did the same, though it wasn’t an elvish courting braid at all, but a braid it was.

Now, you had to tell Oropher, somehow. Thranduil was more reserved to people he didn’t knew, Oropher was more temperament. Sometimes you overheard their arguments, which could get loud.

You were sitting at the dinner, Thranduil trying to figure out how to approach the subject, when Oropher noticed his hair.

„My son...so you and lady Y/N are finally courting?“ You and Thranduil choked on your meal.

„Well, yes father, we are,“ Thranduil said. Oropher smiled. The alcohol from wine he was drinking was kicking in.

„About time, my son. I’ve seen you looking at her ever since you’ve been showing her around. Let me arrange your wedding,“ He said and sipped on his wine again.

„We don’t want to rush anything,“ You said carefully, placing your hand on Thranduil’s to help him relax a bit.

„Oh, that’s a good statement too, lady Y/N. Good things take time,“ He said. You noticed Thranduil’s face, blushing. You pecked his cheek and didn’t let of his hand until the end of the dinner. He seemed to be glad.

#13daysofspookywritingevent #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #mirkwood #elf reader

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autumnslance · 4 years ago

Note

Late Night if no one has asked about it yet!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you like.

“Late Night” is a 4.4 set fic where Alisaie and Aeryn are both checking in on the fallen Archons, before the twins are taken by the Call and we have any clue what’s happened with our friends’ souls. They’re both very scared and vulnerable and missing their friends here. And willing to share more than they normally would.

I’ve two snippets for this one, because I enjoy quite a bit of it and really need to just get it out there.

“Can’t sleep either?” Aeryn asked. Alisaie was sitting in a chair between Urianger and Y’shtola’s beds, leaving Aeryn free to take the chair between Urianger and Thancred. She tried to not look or feel awkward as she moved to it and sat.

Alisaie shook her head. “I was already up answering letters from Professor Erik, and that expert on Mhach you mentioned, Cait-Sith. Odd name.”

Aeryn nodded. She reflected that she might have neglected to mention the latter was a talking, bipedal, 1500 year old house cat; that fact wasn’t terribly important yet.

“In any case, I’ve been trying to...I don’t know, check in, I suppose,” Alisaie said, looking to Urianger. “It’s difficult during the day, trying to keep busy, and I don’t want to get in the way of the caregivers. But, before I can even think about sleeping…”

“You want to check on them,” Aeryn said. “I feel much the same.”

Snippet the second under the cut:

Alisaie nodded. “I know. So far Krile and Tataru haven’t reported hearing the voice. But I keep worrying about…” She couldn’t quite make herself finish.

Aeryn looked down. The thought of Alphinaud, alone somewhere in the Empire, also hearing the voice, had occurred to her. If it claimed him too…

“I know I shouldn’t let it distract me,” Alisaie continued. “He would probably tease me for acting the worrywart…”

“He wouldn’t,” Aeryn said. “He’s your brother, Alisaie. I remember how he was, when you were poisoned by that Warrior of Darkness’ arrow. If anything, he’s probably just as concerned about the worry and stress his situation is causing you.” She smiled. “And likely expecting a cathartic thrashing once he’s safe again.”

Alisaie managed a wan smile in response. She sighed, looking over the others. “Honestly at this point, I might forgo it, if I can just have him here and awake. I’m sure he could help figure this out, with some random, obscure fact read somewhere once, or learned from a contact.” She looked at Aeryn. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any brilliant ideas, drawn from your myriad adventures and connections?”

Aeryn shook her head. “I just...was missing hi—them.” She bit her lip as Alisaie headtilted, having caught the near-slip. Aeryn looked at Thancred, too still to be simply sleeping, Kan-E’s words still echoing in her ears. “If I tell you something, promise me you won’t tell anyone else? Nor laugh?”

“Of course I won’t do either of those things.”

Aeryn hesitated. “Thancred and I, well…”

“Are having an affair?”

Aeryn blinked at her. Alisaie sighed. “Honestly, you’ve both been smitten with each other for ages. Ever since Ala Mhigo there’s been a noticeable—and welcome—shift, though you’ve tried to keep it under wraps.” Now it was Alisaie’s turn to pause. “Unless, of course, I and almost everyone else we know have managed to misread every hint and clue? Honestly, I’m just teasing based on rumors and gossip.”

Aeryn rubbed her eyes, her face burning. She recognized the out Alisaie was offering, and yet... “No, you have the right of it,” she muttered. She paused and peered at Alisaie through her fingers. “Everyone?”

“Well. Not quite--but, shall we say, enough.” The girl paused again, though this time to let a wicked grin spread across her lips. “‘Tis my understanding Y’shtola is keeping the bets for the various Company leaders as to which of our colleagues would not only suddenly realize, but accidentally blurt it out at the most embarrassing moment first.”

“...Please tell me that is a joke at my expense.”

Alisaie arched a brow. “I have a decent amount of gil and some of Rowena’s tomestones down on my own brother’s obliviousness, actually.” She grinned.

“Alisaie Leveilleur!”

“What? For all he tries so hard to impress girls, he’s utterly hopeless as to what’s happening with anyone else’s love lives, and his blind spot is especially bad with you--probably because he thinks of you as an older sister.”

Aeryn gave her a withering look, which only seemed to make Alisaie grin more. “Should I be flattered or insulted?” Aeryn asked.

Alisaie shrugged broadly. “Mayhap a bit of both,” she teased. Her smile faded as she looked to Thancred’s still form. “Though I’d be happy to forgo the whole pot if they’d just wake up again.”

#Final Fantasy XIV #Stormblood #Alisaie Leveilleur #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Shippy Nonsense #WIP #Lyn Meta #Lyn Writing #Aeryn Striker #scholarlostintime

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twilights-800-cats · 3 years ago

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<< Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 13

Stoneheart woke to a damp pelt and cold limbs, and it took him a long time to figure out where he was.

For a moment, he thought he was still on the journey, stuck on some rock in the mountains. That’s what it felt like, at least. The stones and hard earth beneath him had sucked all the warmth from his body during the night.

His dreams had not helped, either. Once again, he’d found himself wandering that strange dark forest where he’d seen his mother, aimless and unsure. He thought many times that he could hear voices between the trees, cats crying out in pain... but he wasn’t sure who they were, or if they were real. He even thought he had scented Mistyfoot in the foggy woods, but when he had tried to follow her trail, he’d only gotten himself more lost.

Blinking sleep from his eyes, Stoneheart remembered where he was – Sunningrocks, on ThunderClan territory. Dawn was breaking over the boulders, and the sun was shining, but the air was still cold. Worst of all, the Twoleg monsters had revved up, and their smoke was rising above the trees.

He pushed himself up, feeling his limbs burn with soreness. Running around Twolegplace and then scrambling to evacuate his Clan within such a short time made him feel like he needed to sleep for a moon; but his stomach growled, and the ground beneath him did not look like an appealing nest.

Stoneheart opened his jaw in a yawn, but had to shut them almost instantly. The scents of ShadowClan, ThunderClan, and WindClan together was so cloying and strong, it made his throat feel like closing. He shivered. It won’t be for long, he thought, peering over the edge of the ditch. The three Clans were milling about, trying to go about as normal a day as they could. We’ll be leaving soon.

A wail rose from the rocks.

Stoneheart pricked his ears and readied himself to spring, but others were quicker. Warriors from all three Clans crowded around a tall boulder near the center of the camp that was currently the nursery. Stoneheart scrambled out of the elder’s ditch and pushed his way through the crowd as another wail bounced off of the stones.

Snowstep, ThunderClan’s deaf warrior, was padding sullenly out of the makeshift nursery. A kit dangled limply from his jaws, and Stoneheart felt sorrow well up in him – the kit was nothing but fur and bones, and very clearly dead.

“Not Hollykit, too,” whispered Sorreltail, her eyes round.

“StarClan, help us,” mumbled Dustpelt. Beside him, Cinderpelt raised her muzzle to the sky, as if beseeching their warrior ancestors.

A WindClan apprentice was hunkered down, her shoulder blades poking through her pelt. “W-We’re all gonna die!” she stammered, watching Snowstep silently walking towards the forest, his dead kit bumping against his chest.

The apprentice’s words made Stoneheart’s pelt prickle, and his stomach clenched. The last season of her life had been nothing but suffering – why wouldn’t she think that death was all that awaited her? Stoneheart’s mouth went dry, unsure of how to comfort the young cat.

“Thornpaw, don’t talk like that,” Crowpaw snapped, glowering at his Clanmate. “We’re going to be fine.”

“Crowpaw is right,” rasped Mousefur. The small ThunderClan warrior stepped forward, twitching her tail towards the WindClan apprentice. “Come hunting with me and Spiderpaw, youngster.”

Thornpaw rose to her paws, shaky; but she obeyed, following Mousefur and Spiderpaw as they headed into the forest. Smokewillow, Thornpaw’s mentor, followed a moment later, after Mudclaw turned and snapped at him to move.

Ferncloud’s next cry drew Brackenfur through the crowd. ThunderClan’s medicine cat leaned into the nursery and, after a moment, pulled his head back with a sigh. Silverstream came out with him, her tail-tip flicking anxiously.

“She’s so upset,” the silver tabby murmured. “I don’t know what to do.”

Brackenfur’s muzzle pulled into a frown. “Too many herbs will spoil what milk she has,” he said. “Is there any queen that can take Larchkit while she mourns?”

“Tallpoppy has milk,” Finchsong reported, slipping out of the nursery behind Silverstream. “But she’s got three kits of her own. If Larchkit is eating solid food, I think I can take him in with Willowkit and Rushkit.”

“Do it,” Silverstream meowed, without hesitation. She turned to Finchsong with grateful eyes. “It’s early, but I think Larchkit can handle it. Bramblefur and I will do our best to calm Ferncloud.”

“Playing with kits around his own age might be good for him, too, after losing his sister,” Brackenfur surmised. The medicine cat turned to the crowd, his face drawn with remorse as he announced: “StarClan has taken another from us this day. We will sit vigil for Hollykit tonight. Excuse me.”

Brackenfur left, limping through the crowd. Stoneheart craned his neck, peering around the boulders – the golden-brown medicine cat was heading for Tinystar, who was in conversation with Tallstar and Russetstar, but Sandstorm met the medicine cat and turned him away. The solemn look in the ginger she-cat's eyes told Stoneheart that they had already gotten the news.

“Everyone else, get back to your duties!” snapped Mudclaw. WindClan’s deputy stalked through the crowd, his tail lashing. His eyes pierced uncertain-looking warriors as he growled, “Don’t want to see another kit die? Hunt!”

“We need to leave,” muttered Poppyfoot as she drew Rainwhisker and Tornear close. “There’s not much time...”

Stoneheart could hear similar worried conversations going on all around him, their words bouncing off of the Sunningrocks like honey-drunk bees. Stoneheart sighed – he wished it hadn’t taken so many lives to come this far, but at least it seemed like everyone was on board.

He felt a pelt brush by, and turned to see his father by his side. Oakheart had a thin mouse in his jaws, half-eaten already, and he laid it down by Stoneheart’s paws.

“Eat,” he rasped. When Stoneheart hesitated, he added, “Don’t worry, I’ve had my share already.”

Stoneheart devoured the mouse as if it were the only food in the world – which didn’t feel too far off, with the forest as it was. He barely tasted it, and it hardly filled him, but it was something and that was far better than nothing. His stomach ached for the days during the journey, where he could eat his fill and still have leftovers.

“Poor Ferncloud,” Oakheart sighed as Stoneheart ate. “No mother deserves to watch her kits die.”

Stoneheart lifted his head, cleaning the mouse from his whiskers. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Leave it to the queens,” Oakheart told him, flicking his tail. “Come, sit with me.”

Stoneheart shifted, feeling awkward. He was aware of Mudclaw barking orders not two fox-lengths away. “Shouldn’t I hunt?” he wondered.

Oakheart shook his head. “Believe me, the forest is full of hunters,” the older tabby mewed. “If there’s something, anything, they’ll find it.”

“What about border patrols?”

“What’s the point?” Oakheart wondered, his whiskers twitching with amusement. He gestured at the river with his tail. “That’s the only border that needs looking after, and who’s going to pick a fight with RiverClan right now?”

Stoneheart supposed his father was right. After quickly burying the bones of his meal, they padded over to an unoccupied boulder, and Stoneheart helped Oakheart up onto its smooth surface. Stoneheart scrambled up and laid beside him, pressing their pelts together tightly to get any sort of warmth out of each other.

“Oh, would you look at that...?” Oakheart sighed. His gaze went over the river, hardening as it did. “Speaking of RiverClan...”

Stoneheart saw a pelt flash on the other side of the river. It was Falcontail, RiverClan’s temporary deputy – Leopardstar followed, her eyes blazing and her dappled fur blazing in the sun. Stoneheart searched the reeds, wondering if Feathertail was coming, too, but his hopes were dashed. It was only Leopardstar and her son.

Leopardstar and Falcontail waded into the river, tails lashing. Neither looked particularly happy as Tinystar, Mudclaw,and Russetstar met them on the shore. Tallstar trembled on dry land, Sandstorm by his side. Mistyfoot, Crowpaw, and Nightpaw prowled over, ears pricked; but Shadepaw was kept behind by Brackenfur, much to her annoyance.

“I was just about to relax with you,” Oakheart complained. “Go on, see what it’s about.”

Stoneheart dipped his head to his father and slipped off of the rock, trotting up to his sister’s side. He wasn’t the only cat curious, either – any cat who hadn’t been assigned a patrol or nursing kits or dealing in medicine had their eyes turned towards the river, and more than one had the fur along their spine bristling warily.

“What is the meaning of this, Tinystar?” Leopardstar began, her lip curled. Water lapped at her belly as she stood in the center of the river. “First WindClan, now ShadowClan, too?”

Falcontail looked just as annoyed, and Stoneheart guessed his claws were unsheathed in the water. “If you think to invade, you’ll find enough resistance for ten Clans!”

Stoneheart peered closely at the RiverClan cats, and had to suppress a scoff. Falcontail was blustering – something must have happened in RiverClan territory. Not only was the water low, but the two RiverClan cats looked far skinnier than usual.

“Explain yourself!” Leopardstar demanded.

Tinystar drew himself up, wrapping his tail around his paws. “We pose no threat to you, Leopardstar. ShadowClan’s camp was destroyed yesterday – they had nowhere else to go.”

Russetstar lashed her tail. Stoneheart guessed she was annoyed at Tinystar talking for her, because she meowed curtly: “ShadowClan has no interest in RiverClan territory.”

“We were just discussing how best to leave for the lake, actually,” Tinystar added. “... and whether or not you were joining us.”

Leopardstar flattened her ears, and Falcontail hissed: “We’ve already told you – RiverClan is going nowhere!”

“Not without our missing,” Leopardstar said quickly, glancing at Falcontail. Her gaze was sharp on her son, but even sharper when it turned back to the gathered leaders. “Surely you’re not planning to leave them behind, either!”

“Of course not,” Russetstar huffed. She glanced back, locking eyes with Stoneheart behind her. “My warriors have learned where our missing cats are being kept. We’ll be mounting a rescue before leaving for the lake.”

“But regardless,” Mudclaw swept on, lashing his tail, “whether those cats come home or not, and with or without RiverClan – we're leaving the forest.”

“Good!” Falcontail grunted. His pale-yellow eyes flashed at the WindClan deputy.

“I don’t know what you think you’ll gain,” Mistyfoot meowed, stepping forward. Her tail-tip was flicking back and forth as she stared down at Falcontail. “Our lands will be useless to anyone but Twolegs, and from the looks of things, your land isn’t faring much better. Why be so stubborn and let RiverClan starve, when you could follow StarClan’s will to a better place with all of us?”

Falcontail bared his teeth. Whatever he was about to say, Leopardstar interrupted, splashing a step forward to meow, “If you’re sending cats after the missing, RiverClan will send a warrior with you... and if Tawnypelt comes back in one piece, leaving is something I would be willing to discuss.”

“Good,” Tinystar decided. His pale eyes brightened, and Russetstar and Mudclaw glanced at one another with a hint of relief. “Sandstorm will be leading the patrol – send your representative and the mission can proceed immediately.”

Stoneheart did not miss the spark of hope in Leopardstar’s eye as she gestured with her tail to Falcontail. “Falcontail will accompany you,” she meowed.

“That's it?” Mudclaw sneered.

“I’m more than enough,” Falcontail declared, his lips drawn in a snarl. His neck fur bristled as he stepped forward a pace. “I’m willing to show you right now, fox-breath!”

“Enough,” Russetstar snapped. She stood on all fours, glaring down at the deputies. “If Falcontail is going to help, he is welcome to come along; but if he’s going to be obstinate and sabotage the mission, he can leave well enough alone – RiverClan wasn’t willing to cooperate with us before, we can do this without you now.”

Stoneheart felt Mistyfoot wince beside him. “Too strong,” his sister murmured.

Crowpaw rolled his eyes. “ShadowClan!” he complained.

Stoneheart, though, saw that Leopardstar’s hackles fell. He twitched his whiskers with amusement – sometimes, being as direct as a ShadowClan cat was necessary. It gets more done, he thought proudly. That’s what I love about ShadowClan!

Falcontail and Leopardstar muttered to one another for a moment before Falcontail splashed his way across the river, coming up a tail-length away from the other Clan leaders and shaking his pelt. Instead of looking annoyed with the thought of having to listen to enemy leaders, he held his chin high, as if he were proud to be the only representative RiverClan needed for this mission.

“I will remain,” Leopardstar decided, pulling herself up onto the shore with her son, “but don’t think I will be discussing this lake business until Falcontail and Tawnypelt are returned!”

“Fair enough,” Tinystar mewed. Both Russetstar and Mudclaw looked annoyed, but said nothing. Stoneheart wondered just how much Tinystar was suppressing his temper towards RiverClan’s leader right now – it must be taking some great effort.

“When are we leaving?” Falcontail asked.

“Now,” Sandstorm declared, waving her tail. She nodded to Mistyfoot, who drew close to her deputy. “Fetch Wolftooth, Swiftfoot, and Onewhisker.”

Mistyfoot nodded and sprang away, her paws scattering stones as she headed deeper into Sunningrocks. Sandstorm turned her gaze to Stoneheart and Crowpaw, and she nodded to each of them. “You two are coming, too.”

“What about me?” Nightpaw asked, drawing forward, his eyes bright.

Sandstorm’s gaze darkened with sympathy. “I need the fastest cats, my son,” she said. “And those that have experience with the type of traps that Twolegs use. Moreover, I need cats that are accustomed to working together.”

“But...”

Sandstorm laid her muzzle on Nightpaw’s head. “There will be so many chances for you to show us how brave you are,” she said. “For now, I want you to gather the available apprentices and help the medicine cats – we’ll need all the traveling herbs we can find in the forest for when we leave.”

Nightpaw opened his jaws to protest, but closed them. He purred into his mother’s pelt, and meowed, “Of course,” before he turned away, bounding up the slope.

Just as the black tom left, Mistyfoot reappeared, with Wolftooth, Onewhisker, and Swiftfoot behind her. Stoneheart was shocked at how thin Onewhisker was – but the skinny WindClan tom looked just as determined as Swiftfoot, whose eyes were blazing at the idea of rescuing his mates. Wolftooth, too, looked ready, his tail-tip twitching.

“Be careful,” Tinystar meowed. He drew forward, pressing his muzzle against Sandstorm’s. “Whatever you face, StarClan watches over you, my love.”

Sandstorm kept herself as close to Tinystar as possible for a long moment, and the she pulled away. “Let’s go,” Sandstorm meowed. “There’s no time to waste.” The pale ginger she-cat observed her gathered patrol, and nodded, satisfied. “To Snakerocks!”

Stoneheart followed Sandstorm up the slope and through Sunningrocks, feeling his heart lift. With Mistyfoot on one side and Crowpaw on the other, it felt almost like the journey again, even if some of his friends had to be left behind. As they pushed through the ferns and into the forest, breaking into a run, Stoneheart was able to push aside his fears.

I’m coming, Rowanclaw!

#tb au #tb dawn

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