#cinderscar

[bogcreacher]

redrawing old ocs for fun and profit

[talonslockau]

Fire and Ice - Chapter 43

Chapter 42 || Index || Chapter 44

It wasn't long until they heard rustling in the undergrowth nearby. "This way! I smell blood!" It was Sandstorm. Firepaw grit his teeth at the yowl. Sandstorm wasn't the most understanding cat in the Clan, as his first encounter with her had proved. Still, he patiently waited. 

Soon the patrol emerged, headed first by Sandstorm and then shortly after by Whitestorm. Whitestorm! He was easily the most level-headed cat in the Clan. If there was any cat that would listen to reason, it would be him. Behind him was Tinyfrost, Peppermask, and Lionheart; those that were the least injured in battle, he assumed. They were good for him, though. All would listen to reason, except Sandstorm, and even she could be convinced by her former mentor.

She studied the ground carefully. "There's a little here. Not much, though. No more than a cut." She paused and sniffed at the air. "Then…" She frowned and sniffed again. "That's strange. I smell-"

""Thunderclan." Firepaw chose that moment to step out, the Thunderclan patrol bristling angrily as he did so. He gestured for Graypaw to join him. "You smelled us."

"Firepaw? Graypaw?" Whitestorm stepped forward protectively. "What in Starclan's name are you doing here?"

"Bluestar sent us!" He spoke quickly, glancing at his friend. "She sent us to get help from the Shadowclan elders. Yellowfang was already there, making sure they were okay."

"I see!" The large white warrior mewed, his yellow eyes shining brightly. "Now I understand why Bluestar told us we might find a friend out here. So they're nearby?" 

"They are." The apprentice purred with a dip of his head. "They've promised to help us get Goldenflower's kits back at any cost."

"That's good to hear." The lead warrior looked around curiously. "I don't see where they could be hiding, though. Can they hear us?"

"Of course we can." Yellowfang rasped as she emerged from the peat they had been hiding in. "We're Shadowclan, you know. You're not supposed to see us… until it's too late." She gave the Thunderclanners a toothy grin as she spoke, exposing her broken fangs. As she did so, the other Shadowclan elders descended from the trees.

"I should have guessed." Whitestorm admitted with a dip of his head. "Very well, then. What do you know? How should we attack?" 

Nightpelt stepped forward, his dark fur largely untouched by the rain. "Brokenstar will know you are coming. He'll be expecting it. Likely, he's fortified his position within our camp."

"And the kits?"

"That we're unsure of." He admitted, glancing off over the marshy territory. "We think it most likely several of the queens and warriors have been assigned to watch over them. There will be no sneaking them away."

"And the queens allow this?" Whitestorm narrowed his eyes. "Surely they know how Goldenflower and Frostfur are suffering without their kits by their side."

The Shadowclanners shifted uncomfortably. "They do as Brokenstar orders. They have to, if they want to protect their own kits."

Peppermask snarled behind them. "That's sick. What kind of leader threatens kits to get his way?"

"A tyrant." Whitestorm replied, returning his gaze to Nightpelt. "So, sneaking in won't be an option. Neither will a full-out assault, from the sound of it." He considered their options thoughtfully. "What are your thoughts, then?"

"Brokenstar did not technically exile all of us." Cinderscar spoke up from behind his brother. "Only Yellowfang, Archtail, and Crowtalon. The rest of us were merely banished from camp, sent to catch our own prey and take care of ourselves rather than waste valuable resources."

"I see." Firepaw perked his ears forward curiously as the older toms spoke. "I sense you plan to use this somehow."

"We will pretend that we have captured Yellowfang." They all looked to the grumpy old healer, who looked less than amused with this plan. Still, she nodded, giving her approval to it. "We will announce that we have done so to prove that we are still loyal to Brokenstar, and that we can still be a part of his new, stronger Shadowclan."

"His ego knows no limits." Nightpelt added quickly. "He may even believe us. At the very least, he will come to claim his prize. Then we will strike and trap him. His warriors will defend him, but that is where you all come in."

"And what of his warriors?" Whitestorm asked with a frown. "We are strong, especially with these apprentices, but Shadowclan is stronger. How can we hope to beat them?"

"You will not meet as much resistance as you think." Yellowfang growled. "Many are still loyal to the code, and despise what Brokenstar is doing. They miss the old days of Raggedstar. Back when Shadowclan was feared for its cunning, not its depravity."

The large tom nodded sadly. "Those days were not so long ago. There is still a chance for them to return."

"That is why we seek your help." Nightpelt replied. "You will get your kits back, and we will get our Clan - our lives - back."

"Let's get going then." Sandstorm snapped impatiently. "The longer we wait, the more time they get to recover."

"Hmm. Impatient. I like her." Yellowfang grunted. "Come. We will take you to the Shadowclan camp."

The patrol traveled quickly, especially with the Shadowclanners leading the way. Firepaw was glad he didn't have to guess his way across the territory; it was obvious each Shadowclanner knew the land as well as their own paws. It wasn't long before they slowed to a walk in a purely pine forested region.

"Our camp is there." Yellowfang hissed at them, pointing out a cluster of fallen trees surrounded by a messy thorn thicket. "Hide in the peat patch over there until you hear battle cries. It will disguise your scent."

They all crowded in and waited. It was a little small, especially when all but Tinyfrost were warrior sized, but they did their best to hide despite it. 

"What if this is a trap?" Sandstorm hissed to her mentor. "They could be telling Brokenstar about the seven Thunderclanners just waiting to be attacked right outside their camp. What if they've been spying on us all along?"

"Spying on what? Tallpines?" Firepaw retorted, keeping his voice soft and quiet so it wouldn't carry into camp. "Only Yellowfang has seen any of our camp, and it wasn't by her choice."

"Hush." Whitestorm growled at both of them, keeping his eyes on the hollow entrance. The two ginger cats glared at each other, their eyes burning green, but they did as he asked.

Then wails erupted in camp, and they all sprang out of the bushes. They all scrambled through the tree hollow entrance, emerging in a clearing surrounded by thorn bushes not unlike Thunderclan's own camp. In the center were the elders, being pulled off of Brokenstar by large, vicious warriors that he recognized. All of them had been involved in both assaults on the Thunderclan camp.

Yet around the edges he also saw scrawny toms and several queens huddled against the thorns, eyes wide as they stared at the sudden intruders to their camp. He recognized a couple of them as having been part of the hunting patrol on Thunderclan territory, the ones that had vanished into thin air. All of them were unmoving as they watched, as though hoping they would be ignored if they sat still enough. 

 He would never have imagined such a pathetic-looking Clan, from Shadowclan's recent displays of strength. It seemed as though the Clan was separated into two halves; those loyal to Brokenstar, that did whatever he asked and got whatever they wanted, and those that suffered under the cold, unyielding might of the tabby tyrant.

Firepaw leaped at a thick-furred dark tom that was wrestling with Poolcloud, digging his claws into the tangled and matted fur. It wasn't until he bit down that he tore into the flesh, causing the rogue below him to screech in pain. He dragged his head back and forth, relishing the taste of blood before he finally let go. 

The tom whirled around, fur bristling angrily. He leaped towards Firepaw. He didn't get the chance to retaliate, however, as Graypaw slammed into him from another side. "Get out!" The other apprentice spat, digging in with his claws and chomping into the tom's shoulder. He yowled in agony, taking off for the entrance before either apprentice could stop him. 

Graypaw nodded quickly to Firepaw before leaping back into the fray to help his sister tangling with a brown tabby. Just as he was about to follow, he felt something small slam into his side.

It was a kitten, about four months old and easily half his size. The dappled gray kit was puffed out, spitting angrily at him as it lashed out with claws that were far too small to do any real damage to his thick fur. "I'm sorry, little one." He murmured, sheathing his claws and batting it away gently. "Try again at the Gathering in a few moons."

The kitten stumbled back, evidently shocked by the strength behind his relatively gentle swing. It glanced around, and after a moment backed away into a group of mollies - queens, if he had to guess.

He looked around. Whitestorm was wrestling with Spiderfoot, the two toms nearly an even match in size and strength. Lionheart and Sandstorm were teaming up against a brown tabby that was missing his tail. 

His eyes narrowed as he spotted Tinyfrost facing off against a large, brown tom covered in scars. Clawface, he remembered, from the first Shadowclan attack. He had nearly killed Firepaw and Sandstorm then. If what Yellowfang said was true, he had attacked Dewpaw and killed Spottedleaf. His ears flattened as he watched his mentor dodge out of the way of a heavy paw-slam. Now was his chance to get revenge.

Blood pounded in his ears as he leaped onto the tom's back. He dug his claws in as far as he could, his lip curling in a smile as the rogue below him screeched in pain. He reached out to bite into his spine, fangs bared, but before he could do so Tinyfrost slammed into the killer's side, knocking Firepaw off.

When he got up, Clawface had fled into the bushes and his mentor was watching him. "Warriors do not need to kill." The black tom warned his apprentice before darting off into the fray once more.

An angry scream rang out over camp. On the far side, Yellowfang had pinned Brokenstar down. This time, however, there were no loyal rogues to pull her off. Her broken fangs were bared in a snarl as she glared down at her former leader. Thunderclanners and Shadowclanners alike began to circle her as Brokenstar tried to free himself from her powerful grasp.

"I never thought you would be harder to kill than my father!" The dark, matted tom growled up at the healer with a vicious grin.

She recoiled as though a snake had bitten her. "You killed Raggedstar?" She yowled in shock.

"You found his body. Didn't you recognize my fur between his claws?" Brokenstar rolled onto his side and stood up, starting to circle her. She stared in horror as he did. "He was soft and weak. A foolish leader. He needed to die."

"You!" Yellowfang cried, backing up as he spoke. Then, regaining her senses, she arched her back and bristled her dark gray fur. "And what of Dawncloud's kits? Did they deserve to die too?"

"Those kits were weak." Brokenstar spat at her. "They would have died anyway. They were of no use to Shadowclan."

A light tabby queen wailed as he spoke, and Firepaw's heart lurched. How could any cat say that, let alone about kits? No wonder he had discarded Volepaw so easily.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance." He snarled at Yellowfang. "I must have some of my father's softness after all. I was a fool to let you leave Shadowclan alive!" He lunged with his teeth bared towards her, ready to sink his claws into the healer.

The dark gray molly was frozen in place. Gone was her desire to fight, taken by the horrible revelations of the depths of depravity her former leader was willing to go to. She didn't even blink as the matted tabby closed the distance between them. Someone had to help her.

Firepaw moved first, leaping forward to slam into the leader. The tabby landed heavily on his side, not expecting the intervention of another cat. As he scrambled to stand, he growled at the ginger apprentice. "Don't waste my time, apprentice. I have nine lives! Do you really think you can take all of them from me?" 

He shook his head in disbelief. He knew some older cats liked to use that saying, but surely this mangy rogue didn't believe in it? "I'm willing to bet you've already wasted eight of them." He snarled back, bushing up and staring him down.

For a moment, it seemed like Brokenstar was actually going to fight him, but then he took in his surroundings. His loyal code-breaking warriors had broken ranks and fled. Now all that remained were furious Thunderclanners and mistreated Shadowclanners, bent on getting revenge. "This isn't over." He spat at all of them, before finally backing away and vanishing into the bushes.

There was silence for several long moments. "What now? Do we go after them?" Firepaw asked, looking to Yellowfang or Whitestorm for answers.

"Let them run." Nightpelt stepped forward, his eyes dark as he gazed across his old camp, ruined by the battle. "They know they are not welcome here. And if they dare to come back, Shadowclan will be ready to face them."

He looked over the Shadowclanners. They were almost skeletal, as though they hadn't eaten in moons. Around camp, the stench of crowfood hit him. He remembered what Featherstorm had said; Spiderfoot hadn't bothered to teach his apprentice any hunting techniques. The Clan had always been at war, with no time for hunting or caring for each other. Perhaps they really hadn't eaten in moons, a thought that made his own stomach churn.

"The kits!" His head snapped up as he heard Graypaw's cry. From what he gathered was the nursery, five kits rushed out, crowding around the dark gray tabby. All of the Thunderclanners padded over to look at them.

"Thank Starclan they're alright." Peppermask purred, nosing over each of them. They gazed up at the Thunderclan patrol with wide eyes that were beginning to change color.  "But Cedarkit has a bad scratch on his shoulder. That must have been what Sandstorm smelled when we were coming here. It's not been treated, either." 

He sniffed at the group, finding the tom she was talking about, a small dark ginger kit that was colored a bit similarly to him. "Do you think he can wait until we get to Dewpaw, or-"

"Let me see." Firepaw moved back as Yellowfang shouldered her way through. She peered at it for a few moments before looking over her shoulder. "Wetnose! Marigold and cobwebs!"

As if on cue, a small gray tom limped up, his white paw covered in cobwebs and several golden flowers dangling from his mouth. He dropped them respectfully in front of her, allowing her to apply them before smoothing over the wound with several layers of cobwebs.

"He'll be alright for the return journey. I'll treat him better when we're back at camp." Yellowfang's voice was hollow. Even though she was talking to them, he could tell her mind was still focused on what Brokenstar had said.

"Back at camp?" Firepaw questioned. "You're not staying here?"

The healer gazed out over her birthplace. "A season ago, I would have." She admitted. "But I cannot stay. Not after everything that has happened." She let out a bitter sigh as she turned her attention back to the kits. "Besides, Thunderclan has no healer now. Someone will need to train Dewpaw."

Whitestorm nodded. "Thunderclan will be glad to have you." He purred to the old molly. "I'm sure Bluestar will have no problem with it."

Nightpelt approached the Thunderclan crowd. "You have helped Shadowclan in their darkest time, and for that we are grateful. Brokentail and his rogues will never darken the territories of the other Clans again." He dipped his head respectfully to each of them, even the apprentices. "But it is time you returned your kits home. I promise that your hunting grounds will be free of Shadowclan, so long as we can find food in our own territory."

"Thank you, Nightpelt." Whitestorm stepped forward, his voice warm as he spoke. "Hunt in peace for one moon. Thunderclan knows you need time to rebuild after Brokentail's savage attacks."

Firepaw didn't miss the significance of the exchange. It seemed they had rejected the leader and his connection with Starclan. He couldn't blame them, after all Brokentail had done.

With a sweep of his tail, Whitestorm signaled the patrol to leave. Each picked up a kit, except for Firepaw, Yellowfang and Whitestorm, and began the long journey back to camp. At last, it seemed there would be peace in the forest, at least for a short while.

[wc-beyond-the-forest]

Howlstar (Howldust)

Character Bio Under Cut

Clan: Blossomclan

Omnisexual; Nonbinary; They/He

Age: 96moons/33 Seasons (Aprox. 49 human years)

Title meaning: 

Howl = Eerie; powerful; skilled

Dust = Quiet; secretive; cooperative; loyal

Personal Info:

Role: Leader

Mother: Moonsnarl

Father: Warblersun

Siblings: Cinderscar

Mate: Sparrowdawn

Kit: N/A

Leadership Info

Preceded by: Finchstar (Finchfire)

Deputy: Brindledove

Current Lives: 7/9

Gifted virtues: Confidence, Honor, Mother's love, Resilience, Unity, Survival,  Nobility, Perspective, Offering second chances

     Being the leader to follow such a disastrous reign such as Finchstar’s has left a mark on the once proud Howldust. They’ve certainly tired their best to fix what was left of Blossomclan, but sometimes then feel it isn’t enough. Still they put on a proud face and push through their anxiety and try to be an strong as cats expect them to be. 

Extra Notes: He’s shaggy, looks like they smoke that good catmint

[cheerclaw]

What’s going on with sandstorm and squirrel/leaf in the Fb au :0?

ok so, Sand and Fire do not stay together in the AU, so squilf and leaf are not their children, that being said I will start with Sandstorm which is easier to explain.

Sandstorm — Daughter of Redtail and Runningwind

Cis Molly and Lesbian [She/He], Cinderscar's mate and mother of [?]

Okay first, I have to explain that Cinderpelt turns out to be older than Sandstorm (1 moon but still), she shared the nursery with Brackenkit and Cinderkit and became extremely close, practically inseparable, they replace the original Thunderclan trio in the entire Tigerclaw role. Sandpaw was originally Tigerclaw's apprentice, but didn't last two moons with him and was quickly switched to Whitestorm due to aggression issues on Tiger's part, that's what left trio of apprentices with a paw behind, they didn't trust him at all, and when Redtail died everything got worse, Sandpaw was sure who was to blame while and even then Bluestar ignored the speculations of the three apprentices. Well that ended up with a Thunderclan Tigerstar

Squirrelflight and Leafpool — Daughters of Onewhisker and Firebird

Squirrelflight [Trans Molly, Lesbian and Ace]

Leafpool {?} [Cis Molly, Bi]

I don't have many ideas for them yet, but they are children of divorce, Leafpool will probably be renamed, but Squilf will remain with the same name.

[dcalyssaanis]

My (Main) Warrior cat

Her name is SandHeart (Formely is SandScar,lostface and Cinderscar)

She had injured legs and broken half face

She's daughter of Mane(heart)Star and Lavender(fur)Star

Her sibling is BriarHeart (her older Sister) and FireClaw (Younger brother)

[cinderscar]

She looks me dead in the eyes and says, "Hey Brian,

if you still believe in the Lord above

get on your hands and knees and pray for us."

This guy continues to be incredibly normal!

@fromfireandashes

[diamondoasishq-blog]

by @cinderscars (Traitz#4418)

AGE: thirty PRONOUNS: he/him HOMETOWN: yerevan, armenia RESIDENT FOR: 3 years

WRITE A FULL PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF YOURSELF.

Vrej has an athletic body, decidedly not hefty yet toned. Wiry best describes his build, with honed muscles tracing arms and legs and a lean chest, all of this born from parkour and freerunning, both hobbies and his main source of fitness. Standing somewhat short at 5’7”, or 175 cm, he has a dynamic shape built for movement and dexterity. His body sports the complementary scars and roughened hands from the activity, some – most – dating back to his younger years. While this much is all true, physical activity has fallen out of focus as of late, and his affair with drugs have made it so he’s not at the same level – neither physical or mental – that he used to be at just three years ago. So he still has a good body, but it’s not what it used to be, muscles lessened and a bit of chub (not much, given his body type) settling in. Countless hours spent sitting behind his computer and in uncomfortable chairs have also left him with a bad habit of slouching. When he sits, he does so with at least one knee tucked to his chest, resting his chin on it, and it may as well be his default sitting position, too. Another thing he owes to computers is near-sightedness, although it’s unlikely you will find him wearing his glasses – Vrej is irresponsible like that.

He’s very handsome, in spite of it, counting with many distinguishing features all coming together to make someone rather pleasing to the eye. At least that is the public opinion. Vrej’s nose, besides bearing a nostril piercing, is slightly crooked, almost unnoticeably so. The cause? a (probably deserved) fist to the face that broke his nose. What perhaps stands out most in his face (aside from the healthy, mostly well-trimmed beard) are his signature eyebrows. Thick and dark, they count with a shapely outline and soft arches at the outer edges. They’re expressive, though even in a neutral expression, they may be hinting of a frown.

In regards to apparel, Vrej wears almost exclusively what is most comfortable to him. Large sweaters or hoodies, simple t-shirts, plain pair of jeans and sneakers. Most of his clothes tend to be second hand and look the part. He doesn’t mind the occasional hole either, especially in the outer layer of his sweaters, jeans or shoes. They’ve become part of his style. Very much hipster like in the lack of care, though in his part, it’s heartfelt. It’s not a rarity for him to have been seen in jogging pants on campus/during classes either, in fact it was quite common occurrence. He also has a few beanies that he likes wearing but tends to misplace often.

WHAT IS THE ONE THING FOR WHICH YOU WOULD MOST LIKE TO BE REMEMBERED AFTER YOUR DEATH?

He would want to go down as one of the most infamous hackers of his time without ever being caught. Sadly, the thing with hacking and anonymity is that very few people would know it was him or that he’s dead and not just gone off grid. Though I wouldn’t put it past him that if he knew he was going to die or similar, he’d lay claim of his hacks.

IN GENERAL, HOW DO YOU TREAT OTHERS?

Back in school, he never got along well with his peers; while not outright insulting anyone (unless annoyed or challenged), there laid a tendency for silently disregarding them. They were not important. He didn’t have very many friends in school and quite frankly he didn’t care. University changed certain things a bit although there wasn’t many if any friends there either; acquaintances, some casual flings, and a few hazily-spent parties occupied the bulk of his social life.

Condescension takes precedence over blunt insults nine times out of ten unless he finds himself irritated by you – whether your lack of coherence or your lack of competency. Standards are as high as the sky and only he meets them until proven otherwise, plain and simple and people are generally kept at a distance. When someone steps up to him, he’s genuinely surprised. Getting there is hard, though – even getting his interest presents quite a feat. Conversations and situations he finds no use in, he abandons, oftentimes in a surprisingly swift manner. Work is most often done in solitude than with the perceived burden of peers. Introversion and Vrej go hand in hand. 

However, this doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a different side, or that it’s otherwise impossible to see it. In the due case you’ve proven to be worthy of his respect or, god forbid, his trust, you might get to see someone cheerful, caring, and even sweet. He can have warm moments and if he likes you, he feels compelled to present you with affection. Lace all this with his inherent curiosity and an odd sense of humor and some may be given the impression Vrej can get pretty cute, much to his disagreement.

[fromfireandashes]

Welcome to Aspenclan!

We are currently sending out messages to the accepted applicants! Should you see this and we haven't contacted you yet, we are either in the process, but if you are worried about it feel free to message one of us, at our blogs or here. Griffin with Cinderscar! Winona with Mumshine! Apple with Bingoclaws! Dino with Longshadow! Lyre with Minnowtail! Aggie with Jenny! Oli with Minkpath! Lune with Lizardbreath! Loom with Tippy! Tobi with Creamsicle! Cooper with Thrushwatcher! Noct with Duster! Blazey with Lightwing! Pigeon with Wulf! Morry with Greenneedle! August with Dawnkit! Bri with Duskkit!

[longshotlink]

Zenée Cinderscar

I’m feeling a little proud of my latest d&d character and want to share with people, but I hate feeling like I’m imposing on others by showing or asking them if they want to read it, so instead I’m just going to fling the backstory I wrote for her out onto the internet. Yay. Here goes:

My name is Zenée Cinderscar. The…Cinderscar part doesn’t really matter anymore. I was born in a tower of my family’s mansion. I grew up alone, more or less. There were people around, but no one I was particularly close to. I had no siblings, no friends, not close ones anyway. I’d occasionally play with children of staff of my household, but that was almost more out of obligation rather than a desire for closeness. My mother disappeared when I was young. I…have no idea what happened to her. She just…vanished one day. My father spent a long time searching and grieving over her disappearance, but I was sort of left behind during that time. And afterward, my father viewed me as an unpleasant reminder, rather than his daughter.

While I lived in a mansion, a building designed to display opulence, I was never connected to it. I lived modestly, not that I knew what that meant at the time. I had few things I’d call my own, I didn’t speak much or interact with many people. I didn’t ask for extravagance, or much at all, but I had comfort and what I needed.

The disconnect from my father and from the entire lifestyle I was supposed to be a part of made sticking around home extremely unappealing. One day, I left home and boarded a ship and started a new life as a sailor. I never stuck to one ship. I would for a while, but then I’d get restless or my contract would end and instead of seeking to renew it, I found a new ship to work on. The working, the traveling, that was what I cared about. I saved money where I could, though I didn’t need it much. The time between ships was small, and you tend to get fed while working, since they need you fed to work.

Working on a ship will definitely build muscles, and it did so for me. Lots of climbing and jumping, running across the deck in storms and picking yourself back up when a wave throws you to the deck. I got strong, but it wasn’t until my first run in with pirates that I realized I’d need more than brute strength to protect those around me. Despite fighting back and receiving the scars on my face (courtesy of a buff Lizardfolk person), the pirates were merciful and no one on our crew was killed. They raided our supplies and our cargo and let us sail away with just enough supplies to make port.

This kindled in me a desire to learn to fight, knowing a different pirate crew would have murdered us wholesale and set our ship aflame. I took three years off from sailing to learn my way around weapons, first from a tutor who could only teach me so much. He told me I would never learn more from someone else, but I’d spent enough time with him to learn he was desperate for control. When I left his tutelage he swore an oath of vengeance on me. To this day I’m still not sure how much sincerity there was in it.

After that I served with a mercenary crew where I would further hone my skills. They were an eclectic bunch, but I became friends with them quickly, the first time this had happened in my life. We toured around for a while and taking jobs. We’d work bodyguard jobs, security, pest control (mindless creatures only. I had and have strong convictions about the slaughter of sentient beings who can be reasoned with), and even caravan escort.

We visited a lot of places, and while doing this I came across a small shrine to a minor deity. The caretaker there told me about Yzmos, the Uplifter. They were the patron deity of the downtrodden, the oppressed, the slaves. Their followers do what they can to raise up those who have been trampled by uncaring or domineering feet. Clerics and paladins of Yzmos are often called Chainbreakers. He pulled out a pendant from his robes and handed it to me. On it was a dark-skinned hand clasped in a fist around a chain with broken ends on either side. When I held this symbol, I believe I felt Their presence, and I felt my first connection to the divine. I never felt compelled to become a Chainbreaker, but I could understand the desire to raise up those around me. From then on, I’ve been a follower of Yzmos, doing my best to follow their tenets.

My wanderlust was served working with the mercenary company, but I missed the sea, I missed boats. It was with great reluctance that I chose to leave the friends I had made. They understood, even as they wished me to stay. An alchemist on the team even gifted me a Potion of Healing as a parting gift. It was a nice gesture, as he was normally very stingy about the concoctions he created.

The leader of the group and I had become firm friends in the years I’d been with them. She diverted the group to the port city I was headed to so that they could escort me and see me off. It was really sweet to realize the companionship I’d finally come across. We knew how to contact each other. She had a small guildhall in a faraway city I could send messages to, and I’d check in at any port I come to for any mail she sent. It was in this way that my estranged father reached out to me.

He’d known I was working on ships, and had sent a letter and a satchel of gold for me whenever I could pick it up. His letter spoke of regret at the deterioration of our relationship, and that he knew it would be difficult to repair it. Considering I was six when he turned an indifferent eye my direction, this was a reasonable assumption. He expressed that he wished to talk with me, even through written correspondence. Aside from the gold he’d sent, he informed me of a stipend he’d set aside for me. If I needed help or wanted to live less frugally, I would only need to request funds, and much of my costs would be taken care of.

I don’t like the idea of my affection being bought, but I also realize it’s the only way he knows to interact with the world. I returned the letter and the gold with a message of my own. I told him stiffly that I wouldn’t be bribed into being his daughter again, but if he was sincere, I would talk with him when I could. I told him I’d contact him if I’d be in a port for a long period of time, or just where I’d be easiest to contact. I still haven’t met with him in person, but I do feel our relationship is mending, one conversation at a time.

At some point in the last five years, I received an invitation from the mercenary group I’d traveled with. She had joined a group called the Harpers, and knowing my faith, thought it would be up my alley. I did some looking into them, surprisingly difficult considering how quiet they try to be, and realized it would do me good to take more active roles in supporting oppressed people. I agreed to join, occasionally taking jobs from them in places that I could reach by working a ship. It was rewarding work, and I truly enjoyed helping others.

[skyburners-oath-blog]

@cinderscars

Today had been a stressful day of work, and Gideon’s head felt full of cotton. He’d had nightmares the past couple of weeks that usually woke him up like the dead, and today he’d stopped by the drug store for melatonin in the hopes that it would help him sleep through the night, at least. If that failed, he’d honestly have to start thinking about some form of sedative to keep him down and dreamless.

He’d only just laid his head down to rest, turned on his side and clutching his Sleeping Sylveon to his chest, when he heard it. The ungodly sound of Thanos Kazakis, moaning through his wall. Gideon’s eyes snapped open, and he knew he was on the verge. He needed sleep. He needed everything to be quiet, he needed it to not be hot anymore, and he needed this fucking guy to shut his damn mouth.

He laid there. A minute. Another minute. Ten minutes passed of Gideon’s blood boiling while the asshole next door wouldn’t pipe the fuck down. Abruptly, Gideon got up and yanked on a pair of boxers – it was too hot to wear anything at all to bed, in his opinion – making his very angry way out of his flat and to the door immediately next to his. ‘104′ was the marking of the Devil. “Kazakis!” he roared at the door as he pounded on it relentlessly. “You don’t shut up, I’m comin’ for ya!”

[mytwofavoritexmenaredead]

Danger Danger Doodle by cinderscar

[talonslockau]

Fire and Ice - Chapter 38

Chapter 37 || Index || Chapter 39

"Brokenstar denied everything, of course, so now we're officially at war." 

Firepaw watched the elders grumble and sigh at his words. In the morning after the Gathering, he had volunteered to help Dewpaw and Yellowfang take herbs to Tallpines for the Shadowclanners, as well as change their bedding and catch them breakfast. He didn't mind the chance to gossip, either, even if his audience wasn't always receptive.

"He's always been stubborn." Crowtalon grumbled to her mate beside her. "More stubborn than you, even."

Archtail spat crossly back at her. "At least I'm always right!" He hissed, mumbling something under his breath that the apprentice didn't quite catch. Crowtalon only responded with a roll of her eyes.

"Now remember, the less you move that leg, the faster it'll heal." He turned to see Yellowfang lecturing Volepaw in her usual gruff manner. "Don't go chasing Mosspaw around if you know what's good for you!"

"Where is Mosspaw, anyhow?" Firepaw asked, glancing around for the little spotted apprentice. The scent of the Shadowclanner lingered, but they didn't seem to be around.

"Nightpelt took them out to practice hunting." Featherstorm, the kits' mother, spoke up now. "Apparently Spiderfoot hasn't done a single hunting session with them during their apprenticeship!"

There were murmurs of discontent around the room at her statement. "Shadowclan's fallen to pieces." Crowtalon grumbled. "This would never have happened in Raggedstar's time."

He noticed Yellowfang flinch at the leader's name, but he didn't get the chance to ask why. "Raggedstar was a fool to let Brokenstar become leader." Cinderscar, another elder, growled. "He should have chosen Blizzardwing instead. At least Blizzardwing would have followed the code!"

"Blizzardwing would have keeled over by his fifth life." Crowtalon croaked in response. "He's almost as old as us. Now, if he picked Wolfstep…"

The two elders bickered among themselves, but Firepaw was distracted by Nightpelt and Mosspaw returning. Mosspaw was proudly carrying a small vole, while Nightpelt was carrying a significantly larger squirrel. The smaller of the two trotted up to their mother, dropping the vole at her feet. "I caught my first prey!" They told her proudly.

"On your first hunt!" Featherstorm purred proudly, licking the apprentice's forehead gently. "No apprentice could have done better. Not even Raggedstar." Emotion flashed through her eyes as she spoke, scooping the kitten closer to her.

"Mom!" They complained, and Firepaw couldn't help but smile. He missed those days with his own mother. He thought briefly of Princess, not far away from here. It had been two moons since he had visited her. Maybe he could slip away for a little bit now… 

"Firepaw!" He blinked as Yellowfang called his name. "Quit dawdling and get that bedding out of here. Dewpaw can't be far with the fresh moss. And while you're out there, see if you can't catch something for my parents."

He blinked in confusion. "Your…?"

The old molly snorted in disbelief. "Archtail and Crowtalon. Surely you can see the family resemblance?" Indeed, he noticed now that Archtail had a similar thick coat as the Shadowclan healer, and Crowtalon the same broad, flat face. "Almost every cat in here is my family in some way. Like Nightpelt and Cinderscar, my littermates. Of course, I'm much prettier than my brothers." She fluffed her fur seductively as she spoke, and Firepaw turned away to keep her from noticing him stifling his laughter.

Nightpelt rolled his eyes at the molly while Cinderscar swatted at one of her torn ears. "Careful now, you can't afford to lose much more of those ears." The gray tom growled, his voice rough and gravelly.

"I guess I just didn't think about it." Firepaw admitted. Graypaw had explained most of the family relations in Thunderclan on his first day, and he had figured some out with how cats interacted around camp. But, aside from Crowtalon and Archtail being mates, he hadn't stopped to consider how some of the elders in here might be related.

"Yes, well, I suppose that's to be expected. You hardly think about most things." She waved him off with a paw. "Now hurry up already!"

He quickly bundled up the dirty moss and made his way outside, towards the edge of Tallpines. As he raked it open and scattered it, he glanced over to the Twolegplace. Most of the Twolegs and kittypets were carrying out their morning routines right now. No one would notice if he went missing for a little bit, and if they did, he was just hunting a little farther out in the forest than usual.

His mind made up, he ducked through a hole in the Tallpines fence and trotted down the fence of the Twolegplace. No cat saw him, or if they did, they didn't disturb him. It wasn't long until he was at Princess's fence once more.

"Princess? Are you there?" Firepaw called out, his orange tail swishing languidly. Given it was morning, it was possible she was eating her breakfast and wouldn't be able to come out. Still, he didn't mind in that case; he would just return to his duties as usual.

To his surprise, the light brown tabby was up on the fence in mere heartbeats. "Firepaw! I thought that was you!" She purred happily, jumping down to greet him warmly. "I've been so worried! It's been moons since I last saw you."

"I know, I'm sorry. With the war, Bluestar made a rule that we couldn't be out on our own for very long, and…" He hesitated, not sure how she would take him hiding her from the Clan. "Well, I'm not supposed to be talking to kittypets. Not even if they're my sister."

Instead of balking at his words, she nodded and smiled at him. "I figured as much. You don't see any other wild cats talking to kittypets, do you?"

He considered Tinyfrost for a moment. Did his mentor ever visit his old home? He'd made it sound like it wasn't pleasant, though. "I'd be surprised if they did." He admitted to her. "They've accepted me, but most warriors don't look on kittypets too kindly."

"You've mentioned that." She sat back and looked him over. "You look well. I take it that those Shadowcat warriors were no match for my brother?" She gave him a cheeky grin and gently patted his face with one prim white paw.

He chuckled at that and looked away. "Well, sort of. We haven't fought them much yet, to tell the truth." He didn't bother to correct her, given it didn't really matter anyways. "Bluestar wants to go on the offense now, though. We recently found out that they've been doing… doing a lot of bad things. Thunderclan - my Clan - has to stop them."

The young molly studied him carefully. "I'll take your word for it." She finally mewed softly. "Come back safely, won't you? I can't stand waiting another season for you."

Firepaw nodded. "I promise. I'll come see you by the next full moon, so don't worry." He paused to consider that for a moment, before  giving her a small grin. "Actually, next time you see me, I might even have a new name!" 

The dark tawny kittypet blinked at him in confusion. "A new name?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yea! In the Clans, as a cat grows up, they get new names for each stage of their life. The paw in my name means I'm an apprentice, learning how to be a warrior. When we become a full warrior, the leader gives us a new name that reflects us somehow." He could see her nodding, though he could tell she didn't quite understand what he was on about. "Recently my friend Pepperpaw received her warrior name, so now she's known as Peppermask." 

She furrowed her brows a bit. "So next time we meet, I should call you Firemask?" Princess asked, her green eyes meeting his.

"Maybe not Firemask. I don't know what my name will be yet. It could be something like Fireflash, or Firefang… Firefrost, after my mentor…" He wondered what Bluestar would choose for him. Did she decide on the spot, or did she have a name in mind for every apprentice? He wished he could ask her, but he doubted she would respond kindly to such nosy questions.

"How about I call you Fire until then?" His sister's broke into his reverie, shaking him out of his thoughts. "And you can let me know next time, when you come back a big brave warrior." Her voice was teasing, but he still couldn't help but grin back at her.

"I will." He promised once more, before standing up and stretching out. The sunlight felt good on his back in the early morning frost. "I should get going, though. The Clan will start to miss me if I'm gone too long."

The tabby molly shook her long, fluffy coat out and stood up as well. "I should return to my housefolk anyhow. She'll get worried if I'm not there for morning kibble." With a precise leap, she scaled the fence separating her garden from the forest. "See you next time, Fire."

"Until next time." He watched her disappear into her garden before turning and stalking into the forest. He still had to bring back prey for the elders - Yellowfang's parents, he reminded himself - if he wanted to keep up illusions with the Clan.

Thankfully, he didn't have to go far to find a small flock of clueless pigeons. Though he was only able to catch one of them, the bird was juicy, well fed on the bounty of the forest; hopefully it would be enough of an apology for being late with the elders' freshkill.

When he arrived back at the temporary Shadowclan den, the elders were still impatiently bickering. "There you are! Where have you been, chasing snails?" Crowtalon growled as he presented the still-warm pigeon to her.

"I'm sorry. The prey was faster than me this morning." He glanced around to notice both the healers were missing. "Where did Dewpaw and Yellowfang go?" He asked the Shadowclanners curiously.

"They got tired of waiting for you." Archtail grumbled through his bite of bird. "Yellowfang said she was gonna send Tinyfrost back for you if you didn't hurry up." 

His fur bristled at the thought of his mentor angrily chasing him down. If Tinyfrost found him talking to his sister… "I better get going, then."

"Yes, you should." Cinderscar growled from his nest. "We don't need more apprentices around here to interrupt our naps."

"You watch your tongue." He heard Featherstorm hiss as he darted out of the Twoleg den. He wasn't about to stay around for that argument, knowing how feisty a mother could get - and how moody the Shadowclan elders were in general.

He hurried back through the forest, keeping his ears alert for Tinyfrost's presence. Only birdsong rang through the trees as he jumped over giant tree roots or ducked under bramble growths. 

But as he neared the Thunderclan camp, he heard something else. There was a voice, low and soft, that traveled through the trees towards him. Was it Tinyfrost coming to find him? He grinned to himself and dropped into a crouch. They'd been practicing stealth techniques recently, mostly due to the night sessions caused by the greenleaf heat. Now was a perfect time to show off what he had learned.

Creeping forward, he was surprised to hear that it sounded like his mentor was arguing with someone. He hesitated, unsure if he should be interrupting a heated conversation, but then curiosity got the better of him and compelled him forward. It wasn't until he got very close that he was able to place the voice; it wasn't Tinyfrost speaking, but Tigerclaw.

He froze in place as the giant warrior spoke only a few tail-lengths ahead. "To think I ever loved him as a son." The ginger tom could see him now, hidden in the shadow of a giant fern bush. "But now he's too far gone. Revealing our camp to Shadowclan spies, trying to break into the nursery to steal kits, nearly poisoning our deputy…"

"The Clan would be better off without a traitor like Ravenpaw." This voice was eager, almost like an apprentice answering a mentor, but the thought made Firepaw's heart lurch with horror. Though he hadn't heard him speak much, he could only guess that this was Darkstripe talking.

"I wish I could disagree." Tigerclaw's voice was despondent, but the apprentice knew all too well that he was faking it. "We can't risk him giving intel to Shadowclan about our plans. We must act quickly."

"But how?" A third voice - Longtail's? Dustleap's? He couldn't tell from here. "Quickflash refuses to see reason, and Bluestar is no better."

"We must see." Tigerclaw's voice floated back to him. "Perhaps we can get assigned to a patrol along the Shadowclan border…" His voice was fading out now, and he could see the giant tom moving away. "... Get him to show his true intentions…" Firepaw had heard enough. Turning back to camp, he forced himself to keep his paw steps quiet until he was on the edge of the ravine. He had to tell someone. Ravenpaw's life was in mortal danger, and he had to do something to stop it.

[wc-beyond-the-forest]

Sparrowdawn

Character Bio Under Cut

Clan: Blossomclan

Unlabeled; Transtom; He/Him

Age: 114 moons/29 Seasons (Aprox. 55 human years)

Title meaning:

Sparrow = Calm; intelligent; cooperative; appearance of a sparrow

Dawn = Intelligent; collected; quiet; loyal; optimistic; light-furred

Personal Info:

Role: Healer Apprentice

Mother: Widowspire

Father: Woodtrance

Siblings: Frigidsplash, Corvidloom

Mate: Howlstar

Kit: N/A

Other Notable Kin: Cinderscar (sister in-law), Warblersun (father in-law)

     A looming yet gentle presence, Sparrowdawn is a staple of  Blossomclan. He and Howl star have been together long before they became deputy, he’s have been established and everyone's grandpa. He lost a lot in the treachery of Finchstar, most notably all his family and his former apprentice. But for now he’s valuing what he has in the moment, helping out where he can until he can let himself retire.

Extra Notes: big burly gay man, he’s also lowkey based on a house sparrow.

[talonslockau]

Fire and Ice - Chapter 18

Chapter 17 || Index || Chapter 19

Even though Mousefur's patrol hadn't been successful in catching up to the fox, it had been a quarter-moon since any fox had been scented. It seemed as though upon realizing it shared a territory with many, many angry cats, the fox had decided that it was in its best interest to set up elsewhere. Because of this, Bluestar had at last relaxed the rules around camp, content both with how the apprentices had proved themselves and the newly reinforced camp walls they had created.

And so the mentors had all agreed that the apprentices deserved a reward, and given them what they had so eagerly been looking forward to; the hunting competition.

Just as their mentors had promised, each apprentice got a sizable section of the territory to hunt in. Ravenpaw had gotten Tallpines; Cinderpaw, the Owltree; Graypaw had been tasked with hunting the forest near Sunningrocks; Pepperpaw was assigned the area around the training hollow and camp; and Dewpaw had gotten the forest south of Snakerocks. Firepaw had been luckily assigned to hunt around the Great Sycamore, where he had caught his first squirrel. Privately, he thought he had gotten the best section out of all of them; perhaps Tinyfrost had done so in the hopes he would catch enough to get to go to the Gathering.

Already, he had managed to catch a pair of mice, burying them among the roots of the towering tree. He had gotten lucky with the first, killing it before it could alert any creature to his presence; the second had been a more difficult kill, screeching several warnings before he had been able to end its life. It had forced him to search away from the Great Sycamore, instead going north towards the Thunderpath.

Now, he lifted his head and breathed in, testing the air around him. It was only a heartbeat before an intense, sour scent overwhelmed his senses, nearly choking him with the thick, cloying scent. Rankling his nose, he stepped back for a moment, realizing that he recognized the scent. In fact, he had run into it only a quarter-moon before. But the fox was supposed to be gone!

He allowed a small whiff of it to run across his tongue, pulling it from the air and analyzing it. It was still a pungent odor, coming from somewhere close by, but he realized after a moment that it was stale. Testing again, he found that the source of the scent was moving. How could a stale scent be moving?

"Hello?" He called out softly, hoping that perhaps he would alert his mentor. They were supposed to be watching their apprentices throughout the competition, though hidden to prevent from interrupting their hunts. If there was a fox nearby, however, it meant that the hunting competition could turn deadly, especially if one of the apprentices was caught off guard. He shuddered to think of what could happen if it found Dewpaw…

Only silence greeted him, however. He realized that the warrior must be bringing his catches back to the hollow, not following him. And if Tinyfrost was gone, that meant he was alone. Alone, with a fox nearby.

He knew that his mentor would want him to return to the hollow immediately, but something nagged at him as he crouched there. The fox odor definitely smelt stale, as though it had been left in the forest for a few days. And yet, as he tasted the air again, he could tell it was moving away from him, towards Snakerocks and the Twolegplace. But that should be impossible!

No, something was definitely wrong. He had to find out what before he told Tinyfrost.

He stalked forward, the competition now gone from his mind. He moved slowly, careful not to make any sound that might alert anyone - fox or otherwise - to his presence. The scent grew stronger as he moved closer, so much so until it was almost overwhelming.

And then he caught sight of something moving to his left. Dropping even lower, hoping to all hopes that the cover concealed his ruddy fur enough, he watched as a gray feline stalked out into the open. The cat's face was as broad as Tigerclaw's, but flat as well, with dark copper eyes that darted back and forth. Its ears were angled back, listening behind it; no doubt listening for him, given how he had foolishly revealed himself.

Its fur was dark, matted, and smeared with something dark and brown. Foxdung, he realized after a moment. The cat had covered itself in the fox's dirt to disguise its scent, but as he breathed it in now he could scent something beneath it; the scent of an old molly, about the same age as Bluestar. He couldn't tell anything else from the overpowering odor of fox, however.

This, he realized, must be one of the rogues he had been told about. A cat outside the Clans, not bound by any code of honor. He remembered what Lionheart had said about rogues during one of their lessons; that some rogues that would not stop fighting until they were dead. Was this one like that? If she had survived to be this old on her own, then certainly-

She hesitated, and he knew instinctively that she must have felt his presence nearby. He couldn't hide much longer; if he didn't move now, she would find him. But if he ran, was he even really a warrior?

She looked away for just a moment, but a moment was long enough. Leaping out of his cover, he slammed into her with his shoulder, hoping that speed and surprise would be enough to bowl her over.

She staggered under his blow, but didn't fall to the ground. Screeching in fury, she reared up in front of him, and it was only then that he realized how truly massive she was. On her back legs, she was easily twice as tall as him. But he wasn't about to back down now.

The move had exposed her belly, and with a swipe of his claws Firepaw tore away clumps of dirty gray fur. The molly snarled, but was forced to step back to avoid him.

She lashed out at his neck. Her blow whistled by his ears harmlessly as the young apprentice ducked, remembering all too well his first battle training session.

He lunged forward now, but she seemed to anticipate it, fangs digging into the side of his neck. "Murr-ow-ow-ow!" He screeched, already feeling the blood pooling in the gash.

Furious now, he tore away and bit into whatever he could. His mouth filled with nasty, foxdung covered fur, but he didn't allow himself to hesitate as he bit down. There was a crack, and he felt the bone beneath his fangs give way as he sliced down.

Even with his ears closed he could hear her screech of agony. As he let go, he realized that he had bitten into her back leg, which now collapsed without the ability to support itself.

The dark gray molly stumbled towards him, broken fangs bared, but it was clear that she was no longer a match for him as he nimbly dodged out of the way. The two stood, mere tail-lengths apart, sides heaving from the exertion of the fight.

"What are you doing on Thunderclan territory?" Firepaw hissed at the battered feline as she struggled to regain her breath. Now that he was close to her, he could smell weakness in her breath, and see faintly the outline of her ribs; this was a cat that had not fed in several days. Even before their fight, she had already been on her last legs. "Are you really so desperate you'd risk our wrath?"

She let out a series of harsh wheezes. "So you think you've beaten me?" She croaked. "I didn't realize Thunderclan apprentices were so foolish."

Firepaw hesitated, confused as to why the molly believed he hadn't beaten her. And then he smelled it; a wave of cat-scent, directly behind him.

He turned around to see not just one cat, but six, creeping out of the shadows around the clearing. Even as he felt himself physically recoil, he forced his fur to bush out as far as it can go. "Who are you?" He spat, extending his claws as he stared them down, though he knew in his heart he couldn't possibly beat them all.

"We could ask you the same question." One of the cats - a gray tom about the molly's age, riddled with scars - spat back at him. "Why did you attack Yellowfang?"

The ginger apprentice bristled angrily. "She was on Thunderclan territory! You all are! If you don't get off immediately, I'll-"

"You'll what?" The molly - Yellowfang - croaked behind him. "You really think you can beat all my friends here? How brave of you." She snorted derisively, the comment making his blood boil.

"I beat one of you. I'll make the rest of you suffer too, if I have to." The Thunderclan apprentice hissed at the six rogues. "Now move along!" They sat there in silence, Firepaw's sides still heaving as he flexed his claws. For a moment, he thought they might just attack him anyways, until-

"What's going on here?" He startled, whipping around to see a patrol emerge from the trees. Bluestar, Willowbranch, Whitestorm, and Longtail all stood there, staring down the intruders with their own fur bristling. He realized that the commotion must have been loud enough for the Shadowclan border patrol to hear him and Yellowfang fighting. He was saved!

"Bluestar!" Firepaw breathed out loud. "Thank goodness you're here. I caught these rogues trespassing, and-"

"Poolcloud? Is that you?" Willowbranch stepped out from behind Bluestar, ears perked forward in shock.

"Willowbranch?" A gray-and-white molly stepped out from behind him. "You're on patrols again? I suppose you must be, with your kits being apprentices now." To his disbelief, the rogue's fur began to lay flat as she recognized the silver warrior.

"They are! They're all out hunting right now." The Thunderclan molly purred happily. "But what are you doing here? I thought you said you were retiring to the elders' den."

The rogue's face fell at that. "I… I did…" She hesitated, blue eyes filling with grief at some unknown memory.

"What?" Firepaw couldn't keep looking back and forth between the two sides any longer. "Who are these cats? What's going on here?"

Willowbranch hesitated, and it was Bluestar who was the first to speak. "Crowtalon, Archtail… you were both on your way to being senior warriors when I was an apprentice." The leader spoke softly, her eyes filled with a surprising amount of sympathy as she looked to two of the rogues. "You became elders seasons ago. What in Starclan's name are you doing here?"

"Brokenstar banished them." It was the gray molly that he'd defeated that spoke up now. "He exiled every elder from the Clan."

Firepaw saw the Thunderclan patrol bristle in shock. "Banished?" Willowbranch echoed in shock. "But that's against the warrior code! Queens and elders are the most important parts of the Clan!"

Yellowfang sniffed. "I tried telling him that. Believe me." she adjusted herself into a seated position, her injured leg sticking out at an awkward angle.

"And you, Yellowfang?" Bluestar asked, clearly rattled from the revelation. "Has Brokenstar gone so far as to exile his healers too?"

"Healers?" Firepaw echoed, taking in the wretched molly. With the scar across her face, not to mention the ones all over her pelt, he found it hard to believe she could possibly be a healer. "Is she really?"

"I chose to leave and take care of our elders." Yellowfang snapped, ignoring the apprentice. "I still follow the code, even if Shadowclan does not."

Longtail murmured something to Whitestorm, who quickly shushed him. "That's horrible. I knew Brokenstar was rash, but ignoring the warrior code entirely…" The leader shook her head wordlessly. "That's not important now, though. What are you all doing on our territory?"

Yellowfang huffed. "I was trying to catch the elders something to eat when your apprentice mauled me." She sniffed half-heartedly at her leg. "Broke my leg, too."

"Hunting? On our territory?" Longtail spoke out angrily. "So much for following the code."

"Hush." Bluestar muttered to the lengthy tabby. "As a healer, Yellowfang is outside the warrior code. She would be allowed to hunt on any Clan's territory, including ours." She sighed as she looked over each of the rogues, far skinnier than even Firepaw. "She was only trying to right Shadowclan's wrongs. Something Thunderclan should strive to do, as well."

"You can't be serious!" Longtail protested. "Would you have us bring these elders into our camp? The heart of our territory? If they returned to Shadowclan, they could reveal our secrets to all the Clans!"

The rogues bristled at Longtail's aggression. "We're not asking for your pity." Poolcloud snapped. "Just let us catch a few mice, and we'll be on our way."

"No." Bluestar shook her head. "If we left you to fend for yourselves, we would be just as bad as Brokenstar."

"If I may, Bluestar." Whitestorm stepped forward, his voice calm despite the charged atmosphere. "Tallpines has quieted down for the next several seasons. It will be free of Twolegs, and, perhaps, similar to these noble warriors' home. If they are agreeable to it, we could cede that part of our territory to these Shadowclanners, until Brokenstar answers to Starclan and the code."

Bluestar nodded thoughtfully. "That is not a bad idea. Even without Tallpines, we will still have plenty of prey for the Clan, so long as Riverclan does not take more of our territory. And they would never need see our camp." She glanced to Longtail. "What do you think?"

Longtail snorted harshly. "I think we'll regret it when we starve. The Shadowclanners have agreed to move on; let them."

Bluestar flicked her tail dismissively. "Then it is agreed. The elders will be allowed Tallpines until they can return to Shadowclan."

Poolcloud hesitated, glancing between each of the Thunderclanners. "You are most generous, Bluestar." She dipped her head smoothly. "But you should look after your Clan first. We are just elders; we have survived this long, we can survive a few more seasons."

"Nonsense." The Thunderclan leader responded curtly. "Just as kits are our future, the elders are our past. If we abandoned a part of ourselves in times of need, we don't deserve to call ourselves warriors." She glanced quickly to the molly at her side. "Willowbranch, see to it that the apprentices bring the empty nests from our elders' den to Tallpines and set up a suitable den for our Shadowclan guests."

The former queen dipped her head smoothly. "Of course, Bluestar."

She turned her gaze to Yellowfang, still sitting awkwardly off to the side. "Can you walk? Firepaw can help you back to camp to see Spottedleaf about that leg, if you need."

The matted old molly hissed at Bluestar's question. "I can get around just fine." She growled. "But I suppose I could use Spottedleaf's help to set it."

"Speaking of Firepaw." Longtail spoke up now, eyeing the ginger apprentice. "What are we going to do about him? He broke the code by attacking a healer."

Firepaw sputtered at the tom's words. "She was hunting on Thunderclan territory! What else was I supposed to do?" He hissed angrily. "And how was I supposed to know she was a healer when she smells of foxdung?"

"Enough, Firepaw." He immediately silenced at his leader's voice.

"Longtail is right. As punishment for attacking a healer, you will take care of Yellowfang and the Shadowclan elders until they can return home, including hunting for them and changing their bedding daily."

Firepaw bristled at that. "But that's not fair!" He protested. "How was I supposed to know? I've never even seen the other healers!"

Bluestar eyed him warningly. "I said enough, Firepaw. I have been light on you as it is. Attacking and injuring a healer is a banishable crime." She flicked her tail for the patrol to follow her. "Now then. Show Yellowfang back to camp. We shall show the elders to their new home."

His blood ran cold as her words registered in his mind. Banishment? For this? He found himself shivering despite the warm day as they began walking away, Willowbranch and Whitestorm kindly greeting their Shadowclan friends as they disappeared into the forest.

With a shudder, Firepaw turned to Yellowfang. "Are you sure you don't want any help?" He asked gently, though personally he couldn't imagine anything worse than walking next to the stinking molly.

"I'll be fine!" She snapped, standing up awkwardly as her fourth leg dangled uselessly at her side. "If you want to be helpful, you can show me to a stream before I see Spottedleaf. I can't stand this stuff any more than you!"

Sighing, he nodded and gestured towards where he knew a nearby stream to be. "Come on, then. It's over this way." He mumbled, making sure to maintain a respectful distance between him and the molly.

Yellowfang snorted. "The attitude adjustment suits you, apprentice." She croaked. "Maybe you shouldn't be so high and mighty with a fox loose in your territory."

The ginger tom bristled. "That foxdung was over a quarter-moon old!" He snapped at her, unable to stay meek at such blatant provocation.

The healer wheezed something that approximated a laugh. "Sure it was." With that, she began limping forward, Firepaw following reluctantly behind.

Today had definitely not turned out as planned.

[talonslockau]

Fire and Ice - Chapter 20

Chapter 19 || Index || Chapter 21

It had taken nearly the entire day, but Firepaw at last found himself dragging the final nest into the Shadowclan elders' new den; a small, abandoned Twoleg nest. Even knowing that the Twolegs abandoned Tallpines every newleaf, this particular den smelled as though it hadn't been used for at least a generation, if not more, and had several escape routes should the Twolegs come back unexpectedly. And yet, despite the exceptional shelter which it provided, the elders were less than thrilled with their new accommodations.

"I can't believe Thunderclan is forcing us to live like kittypets!" The elder with the curiously curled tail snarled from his nest atop a stack of Twoleg material. "How can we be sure this isn't some sort of trap?" He angled his green glare towards Firepaw as he set the last nest down.

"You can smell as well as I can that the Twolegs haven't been here in seasons." Firepaw replied wearily. He'd already had two arguments today; he didn't need another. "What would we gain from losing our best nests to the Twolegs?"

"Thunderclan has never been particularly cunning." Another elder, black as the night, observed from a nest beside the first. "I doubt that even Bluestar could concoct such a devious plan on her paws, Archtail. The little fool here speaks the truth."

The first elder - Archtail, he presumed - huffed haughtily at that. "Maybe so. But that doesn't mean I have to like it." He sniffed at the material his nest was situated on. "I'll never be comfortable in a place that reeks of Twoleg."

Firepaw did his best to ignore the tom's jabs at their new situation. "Do you have everything you need, then? Do you want me to catch you some more prey before I go?" He offered humbly, doing his best not to let his pride get in the way of his duty. Even if he didn't deserve it, this was his punishment; he had to fulfill it to the best of his ability.

"Do we look like we need your pity?" A third elder, dark as shadows, spat from a nest in the corner. "We can hunt for ourselves. We don't need the help of a mousebrained kit like you."

The Thunderclan apprentice did his best to suppress his fur rising, but the other elders could clearly tell they'd gotten under his skin. "You know, he doesn't look like any Thunderclanner I know." Archtail said to the black elder beside him. "Look at how bright his pelt is, Crowtalon. I bet prey spots him coming from across the territory!"

He grit his teeth at the taunts, all too much like those of Dustleap and Sandstorm's. "If I'm not needed, I'll be leaving." He replied as flatly as he could, turning back to the entrance and forcing himself to take deep, even breaths.

"You know, he's awfully comfortable in an old Twoleg nest." A light gray tom mentioned idly, joining in on his companions' needling. "Almost like he's a kittypet himself."

He could feel his claws straining to come out against his better judgement. "I am a Thunderclan apprentice." He hissed behind him, not daring to look them in the eyes for fear he'd say something he'd regret.

"I think you're right, Cinderscar." The third elder spoke up. "I think Thunderclan's so desperate, they've resorted to apprenticing kittypets! No wonder he doesn't follow the code. I can't think of anything more shameful than-"

"Than what?" Firepaw snapped, spinning on his heels to glare at the assembled elders. "Than having your precious healer defeated by a mere kittypet? Than admitting that a kittypet has more right to be in a Clan than you do? Than having a kittypet follow the code better than your own leader?"

He looked each of them in the eye, his tail lashing. "You can pretend you're better than me because you were born in a Clan, but nothing will change the fact that I'm taking care of you because your own leader didn't want you." He hissed, no longer trying to hide his fury. "You'd be ashamed whether it was me bringing you food or Yellowfang herself. And you can take it out on me all you want, but none of your taunts will ever change the truth."

The elders stared at him wordlessly for several heartbeats, and for a moment he thought he'd actually stunned them into silence.

But of course, that couldn't possibly be the case. "Look at him! This little kittypet fancies himself a lion." Crowtalon purred to Archtail beside her. "He thinks his words are as sharp as claws. How cute."

His face screwed into a grimace and his ears flattened as he turned away, forcing himself not to listen any further as he left the elders behind. So much for not getting into a third argument in one day.

The sky above indicated that it was getting close to dusk, and reasonably he knew that he should be getting back to camp. And yet, he couldn't find it within himself to do so. The last thing he wanted right now was to face the scorn of camp, or the faces of his friends. Right now, he needed to be alone with his thoughts and the forest.

More than anything, he wanted to remind himself of why he'd entered it in the first place.

He found himself wandering along the border with the Twolegplace. Here, he knew he could think without interruption, given how little it was patrolled. As long as he headed back to camp before moonhigh, he predicted he wouldn't see a single soul out here.

Part of him was tempted to go hunting, but the very thought twisted his stomach in a way he had never experienced before. The memories of his failed hunting foray pushed their way to the front of his mind, the scent of foxdung flooding his nose as Bluestar's punishment rang through his ears. He shook his head, pushing away the thoughts as he turned from the deeper forest. Right now, merely the thought of hunting was too painful, serving only to remind him of what he had lost.

Instead, he gazed upon the row of Twoleg nests that stretched far into the distance. Not all of them contained kittypets, he knew, but quite a few did. In some, he supposed, they were laying contentedly with their housefolk, or eating their dinner alongside them. It was unlikely any would be outside now that the sun was below the tree line, obscuring their vision of the sunset.

If he stayed here until the moon rose, he suspected he might see the more adventurous among them begin to hop over fences, exploring each other's gardens and socializing while the night was young. By moonhigh, they would return to their homes and to their housefolk, to sleep until the morning began.

He knew the routine so well. It was familiar, as easy to slip into as a nest. It had only taken him a few days to get comfortable when he had first come to his housefolk. If he returned to his housefolk now…

A jingle in the forest caught his attention, and he crouched down immediately, his eyes searching the forest for any signs of life. For a moment, there was nothing, but then his eyes caught sight of a flash of gold.

A kittypet was stalking through the forest, blissfully unaware of the eyes upon her. He didn't recognize her from his kittypet friends, though that didn't particularly surprise him. The Treecutplace was quite far away from his former housefolk; it would be more surprising if he did recognize her.

She was a dark tawny color, lighter than his own ginger but not as much as Sandstorm or Speckleflight. Her fur was longer than his, a soft and silky texture that could only be the result of Twoleg care. He had to admit that she was pretty, for a housecat.

She was also hunting on Thunderclan territory.

He circled around, careful not to allow her to scent or sight him. If he were trying to avoid a warrior like Tinyfrost, he suspected he wouldn't have such luck. With a kittypet, however, it was far easier; she was far too focused on what was in front of her than what was around her.

"You're trespassing." At the sound of his voice, the molly bolted for the Twolegplace, not daring to search for the source of the voice in the shadows. Part of him was disappointed he didn't get to fight; it would have been nice to have something to get his aggression out on. But he supposed it was better not to have to go see Spottedleaf again; at least, not until he had to bring Yellowfang her breakfast.

He stood there, watching her flee, her fear-scent filling the air behind her. At least the kittypets were still afraid of him, if nothing else. But as he turned away, ready to continue on into the forest, something in her scent caught his attention.

He drew it over his tongue, tasting the breeze as it drifted past him. Beneath the acrid tang of fear was the molly's scent, still strong enough to discern. And yet, underneath that was a scent that was achingly familiar, one that drew to the surface memories he had long forgotten. It was comfortable and sweet, but more importantly, it felt like home. It was a scent he'd never thought he'd get to smell again; his mother's milk-scent.

And yet the only reason another cat could smell like that would be if they were related. And as he thought back to his memories as a small kit, barely able to walk, he realized who this molly was.

That kittypet was his sister.

"Wait!" He called, chasing after her. She had already gotten quite the head start, however, and was already at the tree line by the time he had started running. "Wait, please! I just want to talk!"

She didn't slow down in the slightest at his words, scrambling over the Twoleg boundary as fast as she could and disappearing behind it. He slowed as he reached the tree line, part of him wondering if he should just leave her be. And yet, for the first time since that morning, his heart was racing with anticipation. He had to talk to her. Ever since he had been separated from his mother, he hadn't ever expected to see his family again. And now…!

"I promise I won't hurt you. I just want to talk." He mewed as he cautiously crossed the short grass to sit by the Twoleg fence. He knew better than to jump over it; crossing into her territory would be a sign of disrespect, and he didn't want to start off on the wrong paw. Not more than he already had, anyways. "Please?"

"Go away!" The molly's voice wasn't as familiar; it was grown up, now, much like he was. "I left your territory. I won't come back. Just leave me alone!"

"No, that's not - I just want to talk." He mewed, picturing the other molly glaring through the well-maintained fence at him. "I'm not mad at you, I promise."

She scoffed at him. "Why would I talk with a wild cat?" Her voice hissed. "If you're trying to lure me into the forest to kill me, it won't work."

He winced at the thought. He remembered the tall tales that Smudge had told him, and he could only assume that the same or worse were told all throughout the Twolegplace. "I'm not, I promise! I want to talk because…" He hesitated, unsure what to say. "I want to talk because I think I'm your brother."

There was silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity, and he thought maybe that he had gotten through to her. "Yea, right." His heart sank at the disbelief in her words. "And I bet your grandfather was a dog, too."

He flattened his ears at that, the words all too like those he was out here to escape from. For a moment, he thought of leaving entirely. But he hadn't followed her for nothing. He wasn't leaving until he got to talk to her, face to face. "No, really! I…"

He hesitated, unsure how to get her to believe him. Then an idea came to him. "Our mother's name was Nutmeg. She had a chok- a collar the same color as the lavender flowers outside our nursery window. We had three other siblings, a sister and two brothers. Our smallest brother, he used to get between the bars that held us in the nursery and go running around the whole nest after the housefolk had gone to bed, and they'd always yell at him when they got up in the morning."

He had to stop for a moment to catch his breath, his mind racing as he thought of other things to bring up. "Our other brother, he had white paws like Mom did, but only his chest was white, not his whole belly like her. One time, when we were just learning to climb-"

"That's enough." He looked up to see the molly was perched on the fence above him, gazing down at him with guarded green eyes. "You're quite good at guessing."

He returned her gaze steadily. "It's not a guess."

She hopped down beside him, circling him slowly. He stayed still, keeping his gaze forward as she leaned in to smell him. "You smell like a wild cat." She murmured, almost to herself. "But underneath that…"

"Is our mother's milk-scent. The same one I smelled on you." He finished for her, stepping back to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry I chased you out. It wasn't until you were running away that I realized who you were."

She studied him carefully. "How did my brother end up becoming a wild cat?" She asked him with a tilt of her head, ignoring his apology.

"They asked me to." He glanced back at the forest, remembering all too well the night he had first entered the wilderness. It seemed like seasons ago, now. "I fought off one of their apprentices - those are cats our age training to become full wild cats - and they saw my spirit, and wanted me to become one of them."

"So you live in the forest? You never had housefolk?" He looked back to see her ears perked in concern. "You could come live with mine, I'm certain-"

"No, I did. I mean, I used to have housefolk. But I… I felt trapped, when I lived with them." He admitted with a sigh. "I wanted to live in the forest more than anything. And now I do." He wished he could say that with the same enthusiasm he had had when he'd first joined, but he couldn't find it within himself.

"Living in the forest all the time… that must be nice." He perked his ears, unable to ignore the wistful tone in her voice. "But it's probably dangerous, too."

He shrugged. "That's why I'm an apprentice. I'm training to defend myself, and my Clan - that's what our group is called - from anything that might threaten us." He watched her, unable to ignore the glint that was in her eye - the same glint he imagined he must have had when he was a kittypet, talking to Lionheart and Bluestar. "You could join us too, you know! Train alongside me. I'm sure Bluestar would be glad to have-"

"I can't." His sister interrupted him gently. "My housefolk - I can't leave them."

He hesitated, studying her carefully. "Are you sure?" He asked softly, unable to mask the hurt in his voice. He hadn't realized it, but he wanted - needed, really - someone that understood him. That felt the same way as he did.

"I wish I could. I love being in the forest, and I'd like to get to know you better. I really would." She admitted, brushing her tail against his paw. "But my housefolk… she needs me. She's alone in her nest all day, until her mate comes home, and sometimes she just sits and stares at nothing all day when I'm not around. She needs me to keep her functioning." The tawny molly looked away with a heavy sigh. "I'm not sure what she would do if I just left."

He tilted his head. He had never heard of such a thing before, but then, he hadn't encountered many Twolegs before. "I understand. If she needs you, then she needs you." As much as it hurt to say it, he wasn't going to force her to come at the detriment of others.

"But you can still come see me, right? This is my home." She gestured to the fence beside her. "Or I could come visit you!"

He winced at the thought. "No, you- my Clanmates aren't all friendly to kittypets - that's what they call housecats. If they caught you on our territory, they wouldn't be so nice." He hesitated as he thought of all the duties waiting for him back at camp. "I'm an apprentice, so I don't have as much freedom to come and go where I please. But I'll try to visit you when I can."

His sister nodded, a smile forming on her muzzle. "I understand. I'll look forward to seeing you again." She dropped into a low stretch, standing back up to give him a toothy grin. "And I expect you'll do the same, brother."

He couldn't help but grin back. "I will. I promise." He hesitated as he looked back into the forest. "And I… meant what I said, about my Clanmates. You'll probably be ok if you're just trespassing, but they really won't take kindly to you hunting. Please, promise me you'll stay out of the forest?" He asked, looking back into her gaze, almost the same green as his.

She purred and nodded. "Of course." She glanced at him, a smirk dancing across her lips. "By the way… you never told me your name."

"Oh!" He blinked as he realized that in all his pleading, he never had introduced himself. "My name is Firepaw."

His sister gave him another smile at that. "And mine is Princess." With that, she turned back to her fence, her white paws delicately treading over the grass. "Goodbye, Firepaw."

His heart sang as his sister spoke his name. "Goodbye, Princess." He whispered as he watched her leap over the fence into her garden. Though his heart was lighter than it had been all day, his paws were heavy as he turned and headed back into the forest to return to Thunderclan camp.

For the first time since he'd joined, he felt like he was torn. The past moon, he had believed he had finally found the place he belonged. Thunderclan had seemed so welcoming, a life he could love and thrive in. After he and Tinyfrost had come to an understanding, he'd thought nothing could go wrong.

And yet, somehow he had been punished for defending the territory. Now he was being relentlessly mocked by everyone around him, and his friends, if he could call them that, were only watching as his life crumbled beneath him. For the foreseeable future, he would be languishing under the commands of Yellowfang and the Shadowclan elders.

And then he had found his sister, someone who understood him. Sure, it would take time to explain his life to her, but he had no doubt she would comfort him rather than judging him. She had made him feel as though he belonged, in a way no one had before.

As he made his way back to camp, he had to wonder; did he still belong in Thunderclan?

[cinderscar]

I got too close to the furnace

I've been on both sides of the glass

but ain't nobody made a monkey out of my monkey ass

The worst guy you'll ever meet

@fromfireandashes