#sweettree story

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Mother in The Medicine Den (Sprouting Thorns)

Alderkit planted his little paws firmly into the grass, staring up at the dark mouth of the medicine den that loomed over him like a hungry fox. “No!” he repeated again.

Sweettree stopped her nudging and blinked at him patiently. “It’s okay, little one. It’s safe.”

“Noooo!”

“They’ll help you.”

“No! No! No!” Alderkit’s chest felt cold. His fur stood at the nape of his neck, and his eyes were wide, looking to the den, then to his mother, and back again. 

Sweettree took in a deep breath. Alderkit could see her skin slide over her ribs.

His mother crouched down so that she was level with him. “I know you’re scared,” she told him. “It’s a lot of strange smells, right? It can be confusing.”

Alderkit pouted at her, lips quivering as he tried to show as much distress as he could, so that Sweettree would just have to look at his unhappy face to decide to turn and take him back to the den. 

Sweettree licked his cheek. “Is it because the herbs can be stinky sometimes?” Sweettree made a face, wrinkling her nose and sticking her tongue out. 

Alderkit shook his head. No, it wasn’t the medicine he had an issue with. It was the cat that gave it. “I don’t want to,” he wailed.

Sweettree shuffled closer to him, looking into his eyes with an exhausted, exasperated, understanding, and loving gaze. “Why?” She asked. 

Alderkit only shook his head again, afraid that he would get in trouble for bad-mouthing the medicine cat. Everyone said to respect them, that they were just as important as the leader, if not more. “Pleeeease!”

Sweettree sighed. “Whatever it is, little one, I’ll be right beside you, okay? I promise, if anything hurts too much, or smells too much, we can go. But you have to give it a chance first. That’s how you get better. I know you’re scared,” she added after a moment. “But there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, you need to be afraid of when I’m here.”

Alderkit ducked his head. There was no getting out of this. While he did feel much better, he still wasn’t looking forward to entering that den. 

“Can you be brave?” Sweettree asked gently.

Alderkit reluctantly nodded.

============================

“He’s got a cough,” Gorsedaisy told the queen.

Sweettree tried not to show her frustration at the black cat. Partly to seem calm, partly because it was hard to feel much other than pity  when she looked at the older cat. Gorsedaisy’s fur was badly matted, sticking together in clumps, sticking out randomly, and leaves clung to her pelt in such great numbers that Sweettree could hardly make out the sandy and orange flecks that marked her dark pelt. “I know that much. Is it anything more? Whitecough? Greencough?”

“If it were, I’d have listed more symptoms,” Gorsedaisy grunted. Her irises were as thin as claws so that the yellow-green colour covered most of her eyes. 

A giggle made Sweettree look down. 

Alderkit was pressed hard against her side, and now that his check-up was over, he was much calmer, distracted by an ant that he was teasing with a playful paw.

Returning her attention to the medicine cat, Sweettree lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is it what I have?” 

“Oh yes!” Sweettree’s heart stopped– “A male kit has the same sickness as a she-cat weakened from birth!”

Sweettree’s tail slapped the ground. “Will he get better?” She asked more firmly.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Gorsedaisy answered. Her attention turned to the wall of herbs on the one side of the den, but she made no movement to pick at them. Instead, she seemed to only stare ahead blankly. She growled, pelt twitching.

“What was that?” Sweettree’s eyes narrowed. Surely she couldn't have heard that right. Gorsedaisy’s voice was so raspy.

“He’s healthy,” Gorsedaisy reaffirmed. “Now, get that thing out of here and leave me in peace!”

Sweettree bristled. “Do not speak to my son that way!”

“Swee’ree?”

Sweettree met her son’s gaze. “She says you’re healthy as a duckling!” she told him cheerfully, trying to appear joyful. “I’m going to stay to talk for a little bit, but do you want to go back to the den?”

Alderkit hesitated, eyeing Gorsedaisy uncertaintly. 

He’s worried for me, Sweettree realized, and her heart swelled with love so strong that it nearly choked her. He’ll stay in a place he’s scared of if it means making sure I’m okay. “It’s alright, my little golden star. I’ll be with you as soon as you can say ‘mouse’! But this is adult talk. Reeally boring!”

Alderkit hesitated a moment more, then padded slowly to the entrance, continually checking over his shoulder before at last the leaves swallowed him up and he was out of view and earshot. Sweettree smiled reassuringly at him the whole way, and when he was far enough, her expression melted into a hard frown that she turned on the medicine cat. “Do you know something?”

Gorsedaisy raised a brow. “I know a lot of somethings. Somethings and some things that you could never understand.”

Sweettree shook her head. “About him. About me–about this sickness!” She stared desperately at the medicine cat. “Is it–is it a punishment? Because I had a kit with another she-cat’s mate? I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t! If I could go back and change it, I would! I just want to be there for my son, but how can I be when half the time I’m here with two medicine cats who can’t figure out how to cure me, and one who speaks in riddles or sarcasm? It’s…There’s…None of it makes sense. Why would StarClan do this to me unless it was retribution? How can I make it right?”

Gorsedaisy’s eyes were soft and understanding for a second, so short that Sweettree wondered if she imagined it, before they hardened over, pupils constricting somehow further as her jaw locked and saliva dripped from the corners of her frowning lips. “You simple lot! So lost in the past, you can never see the things to come until they’re right at your neck, plunging into your throat! Ha! You think not being able to change the past is hard? Try not being able to change the future! Knowing what’s to come, and not being able to do a single thing about it! Who cares if some tom cheated? Death is coming! Blood will spill, it will flood the forest and drown us all! Don’t you understand? You were never the target of the sickness. It was that thing! That horrible, wretched-thing!”

Sweettree’s ears were flattened against her skull. She had backed away as Gorsedaisy gave her wild speech, expecting the crazed she-cat to lash out her claws at any point. Still moving away, Sweettree felt the air from the mouth of the den breath against her tail. Staring for a heartbeat longer at the spitting cat, Sweettree turned-tail and ran.

=======================

@ambitiousauthor

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Nine Reluctant Lives (final) (sprouting thorns)

Aldereyes could not hear the displeased murmurings that had been ringing quietly along the edge of every life he had so far been given. Now, there was no talking, no whistle of wind brushing his ears, not even blood pounding within his skull.

It was as if all was still–including his very heart, not falling to the pit of his stomach nor leaping into his throat, not melting with warmth or freezing with ice. It was as if he couldn’t feel anything at all, as if his brain didn’t have the capability of allowing him to look at who he was looking at and process how that would make him feel at the same time. It would be too much. It was too much.

So he was left looking at Sweettree, saying nothing, only gaping and staring like a fish flung onto the sandy shores of Riverclan.

Sweetree’s expression, however, was painfully clear. Her eyes shimmered with a sadness so powerful and deep that Aldereyes was sure that every cat in all five Clans could drown in them, and there would still be room left for the loners. Beneath them were bags so heavy her face drooped, coated in a fervid red like a fever. Her fur was a mess, flat against her frame in some places and sticking out randomly in others. Stars..she looked worse now than when she had died.

And Aldereyes is responsible for it.

The numbness thawed instantaneously, and as though there was the chill of a rainstorm over his head, Aldereyes felt droplets of coldness bury themselves beneath his aching skin, crawling beneath it like worms and inching toward his eyes, where they stung until they fell, soaking his cheeks. His stomach, on the other hand, was uncomfortably hot, and his gut felt as if it were being pulled and twisted. “Sweet-Sweettree!” He gasped, struggling to stand.

His mother stood there, whiskers away yet fields apart from him, saying nothing. Was she rejecting him? His own mother?

Did he deserve it?

An eternity passed, Aldereyes barely holding the strength to keep the wail of anguish from his throat any longer, when Sweettree stepped forward. She seemed hesitant, and Aldereyes couldn’t help but guess-almost feel as if he knew with certainty–that she didn’t want to so much as look at him, because he couldn’t be her son. Her precious kit. She didn’t want who he was anymore, no longer the kitten suckling at her belly or begging for a story, telling her while standing proudly on his small, stubby legs that he loved her and she was his best friend.

She didn’t want this monster.

Right now, he felt like the kit that she so desperately wanted, his own desperation and sorrow crashing through his entire body in endless waves, making his whole body shake and words quiver so much that they were almost incomprehensible. He remembered his mother and how much he missed her, but he had always pushed those memories to the back of his mind to avoid feeling them. Now, they were all around him. He could smell her milk, he could feel her warmth and the way she purred beside him, the way she pulled him close and licked his fur, even if he was already clean, because she just wanted to hold him while she still could. For a few heartbeats, he was that kit again. “M-Momma?” 

Sweettree’s eyes widened. She rushed forward so quickly, Aldereyes had no time to react. He stiffened in surprise when she buried her head into the side of his neck, then melted into the feeling, drinking in her scent as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “My precious son! I miss you so much! If only I had been there–I could have guided you–”

“No,” Aldereyes cut her off, forcing himself to focus on the reality of where he was, instead of the fantasy of the nursery from moons and moons ago. “You couldn’t have.” He frowned, chin trembling. “There’s a darkness in me, mom.”

Sweettree didn’t respond. She couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t agree. After several long heartbeats, she pulled away and faced him. “I love you, all the same. That will never stop, even if I hate what you have done.”

Aldereyes looked at his paws. How could he face his mother now?

“Look at me,” she told him, more firmly. He did so trepidatiously.

A fury began to burn in his mother’s irises. “I hate that you’re a killer. I hate that you’re a betrayer. I hate that you hurt cats that are kind to you, that trust you. I hate that you murder cats that don’t even know you. I hate the thoughts that you allow yourself to think. I hate that you let them control you. I hate what you let them do to my innocent little kit. But I can’t hate you. I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to. You’re still my kit, my precious golden star.”

A whimper escaped Aldereyes. He had forgotten his mother’s nickname for him.

His chest heaved when she pressed her nose gently against his head. He sniffed, hardly holding onto control and resisting the overwhelming need to let the sobs wracked his body. He dug his claws deep into the ground to steady himself. 

“With this life, I give you love. Please, please don’t let it lead you astray anymore.”

What did she mean by that?

Water slipped down Aldereyes’s throat, filling his lungs with a hot liquid that bubbled and buzzed within him. His paws tingled with a pleasant sensation that almost had him bouncing around the clearing. Then his spine stiffened, ice gripping the cartilage, spreading to his ribs and into the liquid like Riverclan in leaf-bare. No! No! He didn’t want the feeling to leave, but even so, he could feel the crackling tendrils spread deeper, and the warmth was completely gone.

Sweetree blinked at him solemnly. Then she raised her head. “Alderstar! Alderstar! Alderstar!”

Hers was the only voice throughout the clearing. If Aldereyes shut his eyes, he could have imagined her as a lone cat in a ravine, her words echoing off of the stones.

Everyone else sat in complete silence.

That was okay.

Sweettree’s voice was the only one he needed to hear.

[emmamartinsblog]

Festivals, podcasts, and mindfulness!

This month has flown by! I’m working 2 days a week at the RNIB and still interviewing people about their sight loss stories. In return, they are helping me with my typing. Its more sorting out the voice activation so that it works with me and not against me! Yes it is still a problem! It is getting easier. During my first month at the RNIB I couldn’t even log on - but, I’ve now managed to master that! King’s Cross is incredibly mental even when it is not rush hour. 

I went up to spend some time with my friend Liz - who I met at university, Richie,  and their son Danny. We went to their family festival in Wincle (what an amazing name and a beautiful location). It was during the really hot weekend, but it was a bit cooler in the country side. It was a beer and gin festival - totally up my street! We sat by the river, we went up in Richie’s van, and I camped. The whole family came along. Richie has this amazing WWII wagon. Apologies if it was not WWII - I am not as up to date on my military memorabilia as I used to be. 

This is us and her sister ready for the party!

From one festival to another! This one was a bit more of a crazy festival which is up North, near Sawley, Lancashire, and called Beat Herder. It seemed like everyone who was there was 20 years old. I think it was just where we were camped. Nevertheless, we got involved. 40 years old and having a great time! It was great to hangout with Laura who I have known for years. I saw so many acts, my favourite being Groove Armada - great to see them and they played all the old classics. We also saw this act called Henge. They were quite out there and random, but it was fun nonetheless. On the Sunday afternoon, Mr. Scruff did this long set which lasted for hours. It was incredible and I was amazed that he was doing these long sets even though he must be in his 50s! But, I was exhausted after a 4 day festival and glad to get back to Sheffield and London. 

I have been doing my mindfulness practitioner training once a month. It’s good to do, but I am finding it pretty hard to memorise all of the different practices. It’s hard and I am blaming it on my brain injury. I’ll persevere for a while, but I am not hopeful. However, in a mindfulness way, it doesn’t really matter. I have been doing some practices with one of my classmates from the course. Some of the things we have to say make it quite hard to take it seriously. We are thinking of starting a sitcom about it! Maybe that will be a better outcome!

I went to SweetTree this month to help with training new support workers. It went really well! There was a full crowd - 25 in attendance which is a lot for me - and they were very chatty and quite inspired! This is a monthly talk that I go and do. I have been doing this for a while and it is building my confidence up all the time which is good!

Finally, my podcast! We have launched! We have no idea if anyone is actually listening. So, I am going to rely on my friends to feedback - but no one has yet! Can anyone let me know if they are listening?? I am very pleased with what I have achieved. We have 10 episodes in the podcast! This week is Trisha Goddard’s episode. 

If you want to give it a listen my podcast is called “The Longest Battle” and is available through Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, and Acast. You can find all the information about my podcast, and hear more about my story, on my website. Please pass it on!

www.thelongestbattle.com 

Every listener counts :) 

Let me know what you think! Enjoy the heat wave!

Emma x

[plus-dementia]

‘Don't Leave Me Now’ written by Brian Daniels. (An event in collaboration with SweetTree Home Care Services)

I found this event on Eventbrite, being described as ‘a play exploring the impact of early-onset dementia’. Being skeptical, I was keen to go and find out if it would be an accurate representation; I’m glad to say I was proven wrong. The day started off with a talk from SweetTree’s admiral nurse Rikki Lorenti, explaining the work that SweetTree does and the work they do with evidence based practice (creating care plans around the patient and what has been proved to work for them and their unique situation). He also spoke of their clinical psychologist, Dr Aimee Spector’s, work with CST groups, where people with dementia are invited to sit and interact with each other and staff to use props to tell stories and build brain muscle (”brain training”). They do this by introducing props such as toys and food, and starting open ended conversations with the patients that almost always lead to them reminiscing about their past. I.E. showing them a toy they might have played with in their childhood and asking “What do you think of this colour blue [on the toy]?” “What does this remind you of?” which then leads in to them remembering they had one, or their children had one, which can then lead to a whole new conversation that is completely off topic to the prop, but triggering memories all the same. He also spoke about a Young Onset Dementia choir that is available in many regions now, that use music as a way of brain training, helping them to remember rhythms and lyrics from each weekly session to the next. 

The play was performed in the second half of the day by five actors, no stage or props, simply reading through their scripts. The writer, Brian, later said this was so they could travel easily around the country to perform the show, with no need to transport anything but themselves - it makes it more accessible and most of the time allows for free shows. The play was beautifully written and obvious that Brian had done his research. The story follows two couples, one of which has a daughter, and their sadness and laughter through the terrifying “journey” of dementia, of which none of the family carers signed up for. It shows the difficulty of choosing to admit a load one in to a care facility and accepting when you have done all you can: “it’s not being selfish, it’s being humane”. The representation of the person with dementia’s feeling is also well shown; while the characters still have the ability to speak, they show accurately the sense of confusion, loss and also their blissful ignorance as their family deal with their loss. He wrote this story based on 2 real couples. He knew the first (Polly and Judy) from his earlier life and was shocked to see the deterioration of his former friend when visiting her in a care home for the first time, and from there, wanted to tell this couple’s story. He then gained the insight for the second couple (Chris and June) through walking round the care home and making friends with the wife and daughter of a man in the later stages of dementia. I have come to understand through seeing this play that it is near impossible to tell “everyone’s story” through one project or piece of work, as each and every experience with dementia is unique. But shows like this give a real insight in to real people’s lives. It shows the emotions behind dementia, which unlike symptoms, are a common factor that unites almost all families dealing with this illness: guilt, shame and loss, but also hilarity in the ridiculous and love - however, and whenever, they might show themselves through the process. 

In a Q&A with the writer and cast after the show, Brian also told us how he constantly updates the script. Having written it almost 5 years ago, a lot has changed in the dementia world - from treatment to drugs, to aids and products. It is nice to know that he respects that this illness is not something with one quick fix or cure, it is a process that we all should be working through together, until that cure is found. 

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

A Dark Forest warrior and his mother: a story in three parts

Together in Sweet Innocence

"Swee'ree!" Alderkit called into the dark and gloomy den. He had had the nightmare again, of a two-headed beast chasing him through the trees. He had woken up just when their jaws had clamped shut around him.

He squirmed, reaching around in his nest, but found only empty space. His heart began to pound. Were those simply gaps in the walls of the den, or pairs of eyes staring him down, waiting for the perfect time to jump and devour him in one gulp?

Wailing in terror, he shuffled deep into his nest with his paws over his eyes. He felt weight shift beside him and began to cry out, then quickly realized that through the moss he could detect a familiar scent. He poked his head out.

Sweettree, his mother, lay next to him, her glazed eyes looking down endearingly. "That nightmare again?" she asked, resting her chin on her paws. Alderkit lifted himself and wobbled closer, so that he could press against her muzzle.

"Mmm-hmm." He nodded vigorously. "It ate me and I died!"

"You're not dead!" Hollykit cut in from the opposite side of the den. Bags hung under her eyes, it was clear that he had woken her. Shimmerstone began to hush her when, a rare sight, Sweettree curled her lip.

"I asked you to watch him."

Shimmerstone looked apologetic. "If your sickness is contagious...."

"That doesn't give you the right to neglect a crying kit to keep your own from catching a sniffle!" Sweettree snapped, then quickly flipped herself around so that her back was to Shimmerstone.

Shimmerstone sighed. "We all know by now it's not just a sniffle, Sweet."

What did that mean? A heavy stone dropped in Alderkit's belly. "Do you have greencough?" he asked his mother, voice trembling like a pond welcoming droplets. His ears flattened, as though it could block out any bad answer she could give and make it so that it couldn't be true.

Sweettree hesitated, and something flickered in her eyes. Alderkit hadn't noticed before how glossy they were, or how many lines she had under them. Her fur stuck out in random places–surely that was only because she had just been hunting?

She stretched her paws out and pulled him into an embrace, holding him against her throat and laying her chin over his body. He settled into it, breathing in her milky scent and sneezing when her fur brushed against his nose. His head began to slink downward, his eyes narrowing in exhaustion. The worry of having the nightmare again was distant. He didn't care what happened to him in sleep so long as his mother was here, holding him close.

Separation in Reunion

(Skipping previous stories that showed him receive his other lives)

Aldereyes could not hear the displeased murmurings that had been ringing quietly along the edge of every life he had so far been given. Now, there was no talking, no whistle of wind brushing his ears, not even blood pounding within his skull.

It was as if all was still–including his very heart, not falling to the pit of his stomach nor leaping into his throat, not melting with warmth or freezing with ice. It was as if he couldn’t feel anything at all, as if his brain didn’t have the capability of allowing him to look at who he was looking at and process how that would make him feel at the same time. It would be too much. It was too much.

So he was left looking at Sweettree, saying nothing, only gaping and staring like a fish flung onto the sandy shores of Riverclan.

Sweetree’s expression, however, was painfully clear. Her eyes shimmered with a sadness so powerful and deep that Aldereyes was sure that every cat in all five Clans could drown in them, and there would still be room left for the loners. Beneath them were bags so heavy her face drooped, coated in a fervid red like a fever. Her fur was a mess, flat against her fame in some places and sticking out randomly in others. Stars..she looked worse now than when she had died.

And Aldereyes is responsible for it.

The numbness thawed instantaneously, and as though there was the chill of a rainstorm over his head, Aldereyes felt droplets of coldness bury themselves beneath his aching skin, crawling beneath it like worms and inching toward his eyes, where they stung until they fell, soaking his cheeks. His stomach, on the other hand, was uncomfortably hot, and his gut felt as if it were being pulled and twisted. “Sweet-Sweettree!” He gasped, struggling to stand.

His mother stood there, whiskers away yet fields apart from him, saying nothing. Was she rejecting him? His own mother?

Did he deserve it?

An eternity passed, Aldereyes barely holding the strength to keep the wail of anguish from his throat any longer, when Sweettree stepped forward. She seemed hesitant, and Aldereyes couldn’t help but guess-almost feel as if he knew with certainty–that she didn’t want to so much as look at him, because he couldn’t be her son. Her precious kit. She didn’t want who he was anymore, no longer the kitten suckling at her belly or begging for a story, telling her while standing proudly on his small, stubby legs that he loved her and she was his best friend.

She didn’t want this monster.

Right now, he felt like the kit that she so desperately wanted, his own desperation and sorrow crashing through his entire body in endless waves, making his whole body shake and words quiver so much that they were almost incomprehensible. He remembered his mother and how much he missed her, but he had always pushed those memories to the back of his mind to avoid feeling them. Now, they were all around him. He could smell her milk, he could feel her warmth and the way she purred beside him, the way she pulled him close and licked his fur, even if he was already clean, because she just wanted to hold him while she still could. For a few heartbeats, he was that kit again. “M-Momma?” 

Sweettree’s eyes widened. She rushed forward so quickly, Aldereyes had no time to react. He stiffened in surprise when she buried her head into the side of his neck, then melted into the feeling, drinking in her scent as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “My precious son! I miss you so much! If only I had been there–I could have guided you–”

“No,” Aldereyes cut her off, forcing himself to focus on the reality of where he was, instead of the fantasy of the nursery from moons and moons ago. “You couldn’t have.” He frowned, chip trembling. “There’s a darkness in me, mom.”

Sweettree didn’t respond. She couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t agree. After several long heartbeats, she pulled away and faced him. “I love you, all the same. That will never stop, even if I hate what you have done.”

Aldereyes looked at his paws. How could he face his mother now?

“Look at me,” she told him, more firmly. He did so trepidatiously.

A fury began to burn in his mother’s irises. “I hate that you’re a killer. I hate that you’re a betrayer. I hate that you hurt cats that are kind to you, that trust you. I hate that you murder cats that don’t even know you. I hate the thoughts that you allow yourself to think. I hate that you let them control you. I hate what you let them do to my innocent little kit. But I can’t hate you. I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to. You’re still my kit, my precious golden star.”

A whimper escaped Aldereyes. He had forgotten his mother’s nickname for him.

His chest heaved when she pressed her nose gently against his head. He sniffed, hardly holding onto control and resisting the overwhelming need to let the sobs wracked his body. He dug his claws deep into the ground to steady himself. 

“With this life, I give you love. Please, please don’t let it lead you astray anymore.”

What did she mean by that?

Water slipped down Aldereyes’s throat, filling his lungs with a hot liquid that bubbled and buzzed within him. His paws tingled with a pleasant sensation that almost had him bouncing around the clearing. Then his spine stiffened, ice gripping the cartilage, spreading to his ribs and into the liquid like Riverclan in leaf-bare. No! No! He didn’t want the feeling to leave, but even so, he could feel the crackling tendrils spread deeper, and the warmth was completely gone.

Sweetree blinked at him solemnly. Then she raised her head. “Alderstar! Alderstar! Alderstar!”

Hers was the only voice throughout the clearing. If Aldereyes shut his eyes, he could have imagined her as a lone cat in a ravine, her words echoing off of the stones.

Everyone else sat in complete silence.

That was okay.

Sweettree’s voice was the only one he needed to hear.

Apart for Eternity

The sound of grass rustling made Alderstar's ears swivel, but he didn't move his gaze. "I want to be alone," he told whoever was there.

"What are you doing?" came a young–and slightly familiar–voice. Alderstar turned his head and saw Perchpaw staring at him curiously. Alderstar was glad to see that he wasn't as wary as before, though by his stance, that wasn't completely gone. It had been about half a moon since he had first met the 'paw, but they haven't spoken much. That mostly went to Hootpetal, who was much better with the whole 'talking' business.

"Waiting."

His mate must've put in a good word for him, because Perchpaw padded forward until he was standing next to where Alderstar was seated, only a small, almost unnoticeable trace of trepidation in his pricked fur. The apprentice looked around them. "Waiting for who?"

"Does that matter?" Alderstar bristled, then quickly forced his fur to lie flat.

Perchpaw tilted his head at the sight ahead of them. "Isn't that the border?" He blinked at a white, blinding light dancing like smoke in a far clearing, far enough from them so that it didn't hurt their eyes too much.

"Yes."

Perchpaw sat. "Are you meeting with a Starclan cat?"

Alderstar noticed he still kept his distance. He debated on how honest he should be with the young tom. On one side, he didn't like others knowing his vulnerabilities, his softness. On the other, it would be a good way to get Perchpaw to open up to him. For Hootpetal's sake. "No. She won't come."

"She?" Alderstar felt eyes on him. He suddenly felt small, even though the cat he was talking to reached his shoulder.

The only cats he ever admitted this to were his mates and Grousemane. Not even Magpiepaw or Stonepaw knew. He didn't want the pity of someone else. But this wasn't about pity, so he forced through his teeth, "my mother."

There was a silent pause. Perchpaw shuffled his paws. "Does she not like you?" he asked at last.

Alderstar couldn't hold back a hiss. "She loved me very much!"

Then, seeing Perchpaw's wide eyes, he let out a long breath, all the air he could exhale leaving his body until he just wanted to sit back and wait for it to build again. "At least for the small time she knew me. I don't know how she feels now, but I don't think she would be very proud." He felt a twinge when he recalled his nine lives ceremony, and the pain in Sweettree's eyes when she looked at him.

More painfully, he remembered his death–or deaths, rather. He had heard a voice then, soothing, and a body around his. He wasn't sure if it had really been Sweettree comforting him in his final moments, or if it had just been his imagination after so much blood loss.

He didn't regret what he did. He didn't think he ever will. But that doesn't mean he can't feel sorry that his mother had to watch him do all that he did.

"Why did she only know you for a short time?" Perchpaw's ears lowered. "Did she not want to feed you?"

"She was a wonderful mother," Alderstar answered quickly, again forcing the anger from his voice. Why do young cats always ask so many questions? "But she died while I was still young."

"Who took care of you after that?"

Alderstar was surprised at that question. "No one."

"So you were alone?" Perchpaw's questions were falling quiet.

"For some time," Alderstar told him.

Silence fell over them again. Alderstar returned his attention to the bright mist ahead, eyes narrowed against its brightness. Then he stiffened when he felt a body press against his side. Not wanting to move in fear of frightening the apprentice away, he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Perchpaw still sitting next to him, only much, much closer. His gaze was, like Alderstar's had been, ahead and on the border.

"Can I wait with you?"

Alderstar relaxed. Slowly, he laid his tail so that it lay half-wrapped around Perchpaw, not constricting, and only noticeable if he paid attention to it. "Sure."

==================

Some of the stories are old so excuse writing mistakes lol

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Waiting (short story)

The sound of grass rustling made Alderstar’s ears swivel, but he didn’t move his gaze. “I want to be alone,” he told whoever was there.

“What are you doing?” came a young–and slightly familiar–voice. Alderstar turned his head and saw Perchpaw staring at him curiously. Alderstar was glad to see that he wasn’t as wary as before, though by his stance, that wasn’t completely gone. It had been about half a moon since he had first met the ‘paw, but they haven’t spoken much. That mostly went to Hootpetal, who was much better with the whole ‘talking’ business.

“Waiting.”

His mate must’ve put in a good word for him, because Perchpaw padded forward until he was standing next to where Alderstar was seated, only a small, almost unnoticeable trace of trepidation in his pricked fur. The apprentice looked around them. “Waiting for who?”

“Does that matter?” Alderstar bristled, then quickly forced his fur to lie flat. 

Perchpaw tilted his head at the sight ahead of them. “Isn’t that the border?” He blinked at a white, blinding light dancing like smoke in a far clearing, far enough from them so that it didn’t hurt their eyes too much.

“Yes.”

Perchpaw sat. “Are you meeting with a Starclan cat?” 

Alderstar noticed he still kept his distance. He debated on how honest he should be with the young tom. On one side, he didn’t like others knowing his vulnerabilities, his softness. On the other, it would be a good way to get Perchpaw to open up to him. For Hootpetal’s sake. “No. She won’t come.”

“She?” Alderstar felt eyes on him. He suddenly felt small, even though the cat he was talking to reached his shoulder.

The only cats he ever admitted this to were his mates and Grousemane. Not even Magpiepaw or Stonepaw knew. He didn’t want the pity of someone else. But this wasn’t about pity, so he forced through his teeth, “my mother.”

There was a silent pause. Perchpaw shuffled his paws. “Does she not like you?” he asked at last.

Alderstar couldn’t hold back a hiss. “She loved me very much!” 

Then, seeing Perchpaw’s wide eyes, he let out a long breath, all the air he could exhale leaving his body until he just wanted to sit back and wait for it to build again. “At least for the small time she knew me. I don’t know how she feels now, but I don’t think she would be very proud.” He felt a twinge when he recalled his nine lives ceremony, how his mother had said nothing to him except for to tell him what life she was giving him. She had barely looked at him.

More painfully, he remembered his death–or deaths, rather. He had heard a voice then, soothing, and a body around his. He wasn’t sure if it had really been Sweettree comforting him in his final moments, or if it had just been his imagination after so much blood loss.

He didn’t regret what he did. He didn’t think he ever will. But that doesn’t mean he can’t feel sorry that his mother had to watch him do all that he did. 

“Why did she only know you for a short time?” Perchpaw’s ears lowered. “Did she not want to feed you?”

“She was a wonderful mother,” Alderstar answered quickly, again forcing the anger from his voice. Why do young cats always ask so many questions? “But she died while I was still young.”

“Who took care of you after that?”

Alderstar was surprised at that question. “No one.”

“So you were alone?” Perchpaw’s questions were falling quiet. 

“For some time,” Alderstar told him. 

Silence fell over them again. Alderstar returned his attention to the bright mist ahead, eyes narrowed against its brightness. Then he stiffened when he felt a body press against his side. Not wanting to move in fear of frightening the apprentice away, he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Perchpaw still sitting next to him, only much, much closer. His gaze was, like Alderstar’s had been, ahead and on the border.

“Can I wait with you?”

Alderstar relaxed. Slowly, he laid his tail so that it lay half-wrapped around Perchpaw, not constricting, and only noticeable if he paid attention to it. “Sure.”

======================================

@ambitiousauthor

--Remember how I said Alder sometimes waits at the border to see if his mom will come see him?

--For anyone who doesn’t know, Perchpaw’s mom barely took care of him and didn’t want to feed him. They’re bonding over having been alone when they needed someone the most.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Always Here (short story)

“Swee’ree!” Alderkit called into the dark and gloomy den. He had had the nightmare again, of a two-headed beast chasing him through the trees. He had woken up just when their jaws had clamped shut around him. 

He squirmed, reaching around in his nest, but found only empty space. His heart began to pound. Were those simply gaps in the walls of the den, or pairs of eyes staring him down, waiting for the perfect time to jump and devour him in one gulp?

Wailing in terror, he shuffled deep into his nest with his paws over his eyes. He felt weight shift beside him and began to cry out, then quickly realized that through the moss he could detect a familiar scent. He poked his head out.

Sweettree, his mother, lay next to him, her glazed eyes looking down endearingly. “That nightmare again?” she asked, resting her chin on her paws. Alderkit lifted himself and wobbled closer, so that he could press against her muzzle. 

“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded vigorously. “It ate me and I died!”

“You’re not dead!” Hollykit cut in from the opposite side of the den. Bags hung under her eyes, it was clear that he had woken her. Shimmerstone began to hush her when, a rare sight, Sweettree curled her lip.

“I asked you to watch him.”

Shimmerstone looked apologetic. “If your sickness is contagious….”

“That doesn’t give you the right to neglect a crying kit to keep your own from catching a sniffle!” Sweettree snapped, then quickly flipped herself around so that her back was to Shimmerstone.

Shimmerstone sighed. “We all know by now it’s not just a sniffle, Sweet.”

What did that mean? Worry dropped like a stone in Alderkit’s belly. “Do you have greencough?” he asked his mother, voice trembling like a pond welcoming droplets. His ears flattened, as though it could block out any bad answer she could give and make it so that it couldn’t be true.

Sweettree hesitated, and something flickered in her eyes. Alderkit hadn’t noticed before how glossy they were, or how many lines she had under them. Her fur stuck out in random places–surely that was only because she had just been sleeping?

 She stretched her paws out and pulled him into an embrace, holding him against her throat and laying her chin over his body. He settled into it, breathing in her milky scent and sneezing when her fur brushed against his nose. His head began to slink downward, his eyes narrowing in exhaustion. The worry of having the nightmare again was distant. He didn’t care what happened to him in sleep so long as his mother was here, holding him close.

============================

--Sweettree was momentarily gone because she was visiting the medicine den.

--Was planning on writing Gorse in here but never got to it. Will probably make a part 2 where he sneaks into the med den to find herbs for her.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

sorry i don't know anything about Alderstar at all outside of the three story post made yesterday but can you tell me about his story? is he like Tigerstar at all where he killed for ambition or is it something else? curious

:o hello! always glad to here interest in my ocs and will talk about them for hours!

I'll split the answer into parts:

Why did Alder became leader?

Alderstar did not kill for ambition!

He actually did not plan to become leader at all, or even deputy. His father, Stormstar, was a cruel leader who chose him as deputy after the previous one, Briartalon, had to retire early.

While Alder was one of the best hunters and fighters in the Clan, Storm's main reason for choosing him was because he thought that his son would be easy to control and convince to do whatever Stormstar wanted him to. After all, Alderstar(Aldereyes at the time) spent much of his life trying hard to please his father.

Unknown to him, Aldereyes was already deeply on the dark path. During a harsh storm that Stormstar was foolish enough to be out of camp during, Aldereyes jumped and killed him.

He didn't want to be leader, that's not why he killed Stormstar. He killed him because Stormstar was an awful father. He neglected his son, and when he did give Alder attention, it was to lecture him for not being good enough. So he was murdered in a fit of rage.

There probably was some more thought behind it too, though. Becoming leader would allow Alder more flexibility in what he and Myrtlewing (partner in crime + mate) were doing, so that was an added bonus.

Why is Alderstar evil?

As for his story, Alderstar was pretty much alone ever since he was a kit. His mother, Sweettree, died from complications of birth a few moons after he was born, gradually growing sicker, and no one cared for him after that.

Shimmerstone (Stormstar's true mate that he cheated on) was the only other one in the nursery. She thought that it might be contagious and didn't want to risk spreading sickness to her own daughter.

She likely would have, but Gorsediasy (the medicine cat at the time and the only one that knew what Alder and Myrtle would become) instructed her to keep away.

So Alder was all alone in the nursery. The other warriors didn't bother visiting or checking on him because, well, they thought that Shimmerstone was taking care of him. Why wouldn't she? And Shimmerstone thought that she was doing the right thing by keeping herself and her own kit, Hollykit/claw, away from Alderkit, even if it did break her heart to see the little tom suffer.

Gorsedaisy was hoping that Alderkit would die from the cold or sickness, and that his reign wouldn't come to be. Alderkit did get greencough, and Hickoryskip, Gorsedaisy's apprentice, had a strong word with Shimmerstone, not knowing about Gorsedaisy's involvement.

Alderstar never felt close to anyone. Even so, for a long time the only important thing to him was serving his Clan and being the best Clanmate that he could be.

He became best friends with Myrtlewing, the newest medicine cat. Myrtlewing became the only one Alderstar actually cared about, as he was the only one he felt actually saw him for him, not just as another Clanmate or extra set of teeth.

His whole world of everything, his whole view of how things should be, was completely shattered when he witnessed Myrtlewing holding the body of one of their Clanmates.

Then, his world was built back again in an entirely new way. Alderstar spent what might have been weeks with his thoughts never ending, until he came to the conclusion that he shouldn't care if his Clanmates died. After all, did they care when he almost died as a kit? Did they do anything for him when his mother died? Did they actually see him as anyone other than just another Clanmate?

If he went from a loyal Clanmate to a betrayer and murderer, well, it was their own damn fault for not caring enough to see the change.

Why does Alderstar kill?

To put it plainly, Alderstar kills alongside Myrtlewing because they enjoy it. They find it fun, entertaining, thrilling.

In a deeper dive, the context of everything above is very important. Aldereyes realized, when he decided it was okay to kill his Clanmates and anyone else, that he didn't even know who he himself was. When he was a kit, he was alone, and from the moment he was an apprentice, he had to be everything Stormstar wanted him to be. He had to be the best fighter. He had to be the best hunter. He had to be the one that everyone looked up to, he had to be the best in every sense. Yet it was never enough, because no one could be perfect, and Stormstar hated that he dare have flaws.

It was because of this history and origin that Alderstar became who he did. It was the reason he enjoyed killing so much. He didn't care about being perfect. He didn't care about being the best Clanmate, he only cared about what made him happy, what made Myrtlewing happy, and if that meant committing murder, than tough.

As for why he came to enjoy murder so much, it's because it's the opposite of everything everyone tried to mold him to be, and because of that it became something so freeing and enjoyable.

Was Alderstar a cruel leader?

Actually, no!

Not in the sense you might think, anyway.

He would kill his Clanmates, warriors from other Clans, kittypets, loners, anyone really, but those were all done in secret.

The front he put to the Clan was of a kind-hearted, devoted leader who put his Clanmates above everything else. To them, he was incredibly peaceful, and was sympathetic even to the other Clans, always looking for other answers before choosing war.

His deeds came as a great shock, but seeing as he was caught red-pawed, there was no denying it.

Some other stuff

Hootpetal is Alderstar's other mate, and Grousemane is his close friend and poly companion. Hootpetal was born in the Clan a few moons after he became an apprentice, and Grousemane was a loner who joined when they were warriors around the same age.

When Alder thinks of his Clanmates and how they wronged him, this does not include Myrtle, Hoot, or Grouse. I already stated why Myrtle was different, Grousemane joined, like I said, when he was warrior-age, so he couldn't have been involved in everything that made Alder so bitter. He was an entirely different entity that the collective 'Clanmates.'

Hootpetal couldn't have been involved for Alderkit's neglected health because, well, she wasn't even born then. At first, she was just another Clanmate like the others, but when her feelings for him became known, he realized that, like Myrtle, she sees him for him.

That, along with Alder and Myrtle's whole story, is seen in chapters here: Eye-Out 1: Sprouting Thorns - IMPORTANT NOTE - Wattpad

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Gonna continue the Alder and Sweettree nine lives story :)

It's super sad :):)

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Gonna write an Alderkit story

we’ll see some Sweettree!

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Why and Why Not (Sprouting Thorns story)

Aldereyes didn’t speak on the way home. He tried to observe, as was his intention on this trip, as Myrtlewing stood, cleaned himself of the blood that coated his brown fur, and brushed burdock root on the body until their scents were well hidden. But though the images were marking a permanent territory in his brain, he mind was occupied. 

Why had he felt the way he had? The more he asked himself the question and searched around in him for the answer, another one began to form. 

Why shouldn’t he feel the way that he had? 

A bitterness was taking seed as well, and its roots were already spreading around his heart. Aldereyes had been taught from early kithood that he should put his Clan above all else, but what had they ever done for him? He still remembered his days as a kit after his mother, Sweettree, had died. None of the adults came to comfort him or make sure that he was warm, and none of the kits cared enough to invite him to play, even as he sat alone in the clearing.

Fallendust had been no different, neither had Waspheart. 

Why should he care for them when they clearly hadn’t for him? 

Even though these new thoughts occupied his mind, Aldereyes felt guilty, though that guilt was shrinking every day like a puddle on a sunny day. 

The revelation had stopped wearing down, an ever present cold spark in his chest that poked and poked, and the more his ribs ached, the more it stretched up into his brain and caused him to start asking questions all over again. 

Why was Myrtlewing a killer? 

Why shouldn’t Aldereyes be one, too? 

What was wrong for Aldereyes for thinking that? 

What was wrong with him for being so weak?

He had thought, initially, or at least hoped that Myrtlewing had a reason for killing–that maybe Waspheart and all the others had done something to deserve it, and that maybe Starclan told Myrtlewing, a medicine cat, this. He knew now that that wasn’t the case, but could it be for him? Could Aldereyes take out his dark thoughts and moments of anger out on those that deserved it?

Then that nagging voice came back. Who cares if they deserve it? Did you deserve to shiver alone in the nursery?

He wondered and thought and considered all through the scent-hiding, all through the walk back to their territory. He had requested many breaks without really realizing that he was talking at all--and avoided speaking when Myrtlewing tried to prompt him--so that he had more time.

Finally, after all of that, and really, days and weeks of a non stop flow of thoughts, he finally came to a decision.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

What would Shadowclan’s alliance list look like in Gorsedaisy’s Nightmare?

Sedgeshell and Hickoryskip (possible siblings?) who are elders / old under Stormstar's reign (two leaders later) would probably be young adults (depending on just how long the reigns were)

The rest depend on how close it is to the end of Hailstar's reign and Redjay's story. If Cuckoostar is almost leader, then Storm is likely a grown warrior because he would be his deputy

and if he's a grown warrior, his mates (Shimmerstone and Sweettree) probably are, too (or apprentices)

-----

Looking at the Cuckoostar's reign list, the members are Marblegaze, Redjay, Grebewing, Swanface, Lightheart, Brokenclaw, Shimmerstone, Rainbur, Molespots, Bluefeather, Sedgeshell, Wavewillow, Aspentalon, Stoatbird, Drizzlespots, Birchpawcloud Blossompawtuft, Blazepawpad, Conetoe (mother of Sweetkittree), Oatflight (mother of Owlkitfang and Rainkitburstar), and Littlelight (carrying Russetkitnose)

It's unlikely only Sedge and Hickory were alive just a couple leaders ago, so probably a good chunk were alive, or at least kits, under Hailstar.

It would be interesting to decide their parents as well as who's related to who

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Outside The Nursery (short story)

Graydusk’s heart swelled. He had already met the kit the day he was born, and visited him and his mother, Graydusk’s sister, as much as he could. Yet now, seeing the glimpse of a muzzle as the little one began to exit the nursery for the first time, captivated him.

One paw, then the other. When he was fully in view, Myrtlekit peered to one side, then the other. He looked around at the cats watching him with not a hint of fear, only curiosity. Blacksong was behind him, looking down with all the love in the world. Graydusk could hear her purring from where he laid several tail-lengths away.

Myrtlekit lifted his muzzle into the air and sniffed. His nostrils flared, as though all the new scents were annoying. Then he sniffed again, and his eyes widened. His head snapped sideways toward Graydusk. In an instant, he half-ran, half-wobbled to his uncle cheerfully, eyes glowing.

Graydusk laughed as the little kit knocked into him, curling up and laying between his front paws. “Comfy?”

Blacksong followed, chuckling. “I take him out to show him the camp, and he runs straight to you instead.”

“Don’t like camp,” Myrtlekit piped up. “Smelly!”

Blacksong leaned forward and sniffed Graydusk’s shoulder. She then seemed dazed, holding a paw over her snout. “It sure is!”

“Very funny,” Graydusk responded. “He would not be running to me if I were the smelly one.”

“He’s used to you.”

“Noisy,” Myrtlekit went on. 

Graydusk tilted his head in agreement. He had a point, while the noises of camp were but a hum to him, it must’ve been overwhelming to a kit experiencing it for the first time. Then Myrtlekit extended a pointing paw to his mother, then Graydusk. “You.”

“Oh, are we being too loud, little one?” Blacksong asked softly. 

Myrtlekit nodded vigorously. “Quiet!”

Blacksong shook her head. “That’s not nice, dear. Ask me nicely and I’ll be quiet.”

Myrtlekit only made a hmmf! noise before burrowing his face into Graydusk’s chest. 

Blacksong sighed, settling next to her brother. “Sweettree didn’t have these problems with Alderkit. That little one was so polite!”

Myrtlekit’s head popped up. “Who?”

Graydusk tried to hide his smile at the look of a spark in Blacksong’s eyes. “Only the best kit ever! He did everything his mommy asked him, and was always so nice to everyone he played with. And when it was his turn to explore the camp, he explored everywhere. Stonestar was so proud, he made sure to give Alderkit the best mentor he could when he became Alderpaw!”

The smile became harder to fight, but he made sure to keep a serious composure to help sell his sister’s tale. He didn't know much of the little Alderpaw, but knew enough that the story had many fabrications in it. He doubted Stonestar cared at all who his son’s mentor would be. But as much as he loved little Myrtlekit, he knew the young tom could have an attitude problem. Perhaps giving him a ‘story’ to follow would make him more likely to listen. The ‘best mentor’ part was a nice touch.

He gazed down at Myrtlekit for his reaction. The little one paused for only a few seconds, then stuck out his tongue. “Alderkit stupid! Goodnight,” he added, burrowing his head again into Graydusk’s chest and promptly falling asleep.

===========================

--Myrtlekit was too young to remember the Alderkit thing, but I still find it funny

--Alderkit was in the nursery at the same time as Myrtle for a very brief time. Alder didn’t really care at the time, and Myrtle would’ve definitely been too young to remember him (even see him, as it’s possible Alderkit became a ‘paw before Myrtle’s eyes opened)