#wooden teeth

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

A Night's End: Ashes, Ashes (pt. 6)

Nightfly Origin

First

Previous

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

Nightdrift held his breath, watching as still as a rock. But when the cat moved out of the shadow of the bridge, it was clear that she was neither Meadowtree nor Feathergaze. Just a random alley cat.

But maybe she knew where their Clanmates were.

He followed Twistedshine and Bramblefin, who were already racing to meet the cat, and dipped his head in polite, if hasty, greeting.

“Oh, hello–” the cat began, when the RiverClan cats began to bombard her with questions.

“Have you seen any Clan cats around?”

“Her name is Feathergaze–”

“She looks like me.”

“She might be with some other cats too.”

The she-cat watched them with what looked to be mingling feelings of bewilderment, amusement, and irritation. She waited until their rambling slowed, then turned around back into the bridge’s darkness, flicking her tail in a gesture for them to follow.

They did so, Nightdrift a bit fast as he moved through the darkness of the strange structure.

The other side had a rounded, bumpy thunderpath that covered the ground like the grass in a clearing. There were patches of dried grass and dandelions that poked here and there, but the most shelter this place provided was composed of debris and smelly Twoleg things. Instead of tall trees or rolling hills, this place had Twoleg dens higher than either, surrounding the cats like a starving pack of foxes. There were two long alleyways that led to this place, but by the looks of them, Nightdrift guessed that no one–at least no house cat with better options–had come this way in a long time.

The more he looked around, the more Nightdrift realized that eyes were on them. In the shadows, behind different structures. They were all slinking around. He couldn’t count them all.

The she-cat cleared her throat as she turned to face them, and Nightdrift was forced to look at her. 

But she seemed to sense his nerves, and waved a dismissive paw. “Oh, don’t mind the lot, they’ve just got nothing better to do than to spy on strangers.” She whipped her head around, and in an instant her friendly demeanor changed to show her long, sharp fangs. “Beat it, will ya?! You’re scaring the guests. Shoo, before I make ya!” 

As soon as she spoke, the eyes were gone. Nightdrit heard the soft sound of pawsteps hurrying away, and he blinked at this cat, marveling at how easily she had controlled them. “They must really respect you!” 

The she-cat shrugged, humbly. “The name’s Ash. Pleasure to meet ya. Clan cats, I presume?”

“WindClan,” Nightdrift told her.

“RiverClan, both of us,” Bramblefin added, nodding at Twistedshine, who was beside him.

“Yeah, yeah, pleasure,” Twistedshine grumbled, “look, we’re kind of in a hurry, so if you could please–”

“Mama!” 

Two little kits sprang out of the darkness. Nightdrift blinked as they nuzzled their mother, baffled that he failed to hear their approach. Perhaps the talking blocked it out. He bit back a yawn. Or perhaps he was just getting really tired. He had promised Kestralspot and Pepperfoot that he would be back by dusk. By the time they got back, it would be dawn. 

*Stars, can my paws even carry me so far?* Nightdrift found himself slumping to the ground.

“Oh my!” Ash turned to her son, a little white tom with yellow eyes. “Scooter, be a doll, fetch these nice folk some bedding, okay dear?”

“Okay!” Scooter chirped loudly before springing away.

“We’re not really going to be here long–” Twistedshine began to decline.

“Are you hungry?” Ash asked the group when her daughter–a black tortie with orange flecks, like her mother–nipped at her tail. “Ha! I know someone who could use a bite.” She gently batted the kit away. “Patience, Cody. You’ll eat soon enough, but not if you shred my fur off!”

Cody ducked her head. “Sorry momma!”

Ash returned her attention once again to the group. “So, Clan cats, eh? Why, you must have walked a long way to find me. Either you’re lost, or my mother sent you.”

Bramblefin tilted his head. “Elderly kittypet? Yeah, you look a little like her.”

Ash wrinkled her snout playfully. “Ha! Don’t say that, I don’t like being insulted in my own home.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Scooter! Wonderful job, love,” Ash broke off as her son returned.He carried something thin and long enough to drag behind him for a few tail-lengths. It was an off-pink colour, and decidedly not moss. But, testing it with a paw, it seemed comfortable enough, and Nightdrift couldn’t resist leaning into the soft touch, letting the strange warmth soak up the soreness in his feet.

“Enough pleasantries!” Twistedshine snapped. “We’re looking for our missing kin. Your mother said that they came here. Now, where are they?”

Ash’s whiskers gave the slightest twitch, but other than that she gave away no indication that the RiverClan she-cat’s words had offended her. Instead, she grabbed a hold of the kittypet-moss and stretched it out so that it was big enough for her three guests to settle onto it comfortably. When she was done, she patted it with a paw, indicating that she wanted them to rest on it anyway. 

“Your fur’s a mess!” Ash pointed out kindly. “You look exhausted, and you know I ain’t deaf, right? I can hear your stomachs growling. Is that the state you want your loved ones to see ya in? I don’t think so,” she finished before anyone could answer. “Now, rest up! I’ll be right back with some nice plump chicken. Cody, Scooter, come along! Help me pick out the best meat.”

Nightdrift watched her go, little ones scampering after, then looked at the strange, odd-coloured, incredibly soft kittypet moss. His paws shuffled under him, feeling the smallest of rocks that cut into his sore pads, numb from the night’s travels, and it didn’t take long before he was almost nonconsciously stepping onto the material. A sigh escaped him. It really was so soft! It took everything in him not to roll onto his side and off his paws entirely.

Bramblefin hesitated a moment longer before joining him, sniffing at the pink thing cautiously, while Twistedshine only let out another growl of annoyance, pacing to and fro while they waited for Ash and her kits to return.

“How old would you say those kits are?” Bramblefin wondered.

“Three moons, I think,” Nightdrift answered. “Why?”

Bramblefin shrugged, and his ears flattened in embarrassment. But his thoughts were apparently too great to be contained, and he ended up spilling, “if I hadn’t been such a coward and just told Feathergaze how I felt, maybe we could have made something.”

“Like kits?”

“She was hunting when the flood hit. Right by the river. I don’t know if it’s selfish but…sometimes I wonder if she would have been safer if she was confined to the nursery. Then she wouldn’t have been swept away to who-knows-where.”

“We KNOW where,” Nightdrift assured him. “Here. They came HERE. We are about to find them. We’re just going to eat first, and then Ash will tell us where to go. We’ll see them again.”

Bramblefin nodded, eyes troubled, but he didn’t argue further.

“What about you, WindClan?” Twistedshine’s voice cut through the crisp air. It was hoarse, strained from the hours spent yowling her sister’s name. “There a reason you came all this way with us. Is there something YOU were hoping to confess to?”

Nightdrift shook his head. “No, I have someone else.” His heart momentarily soared as he thought of his loving mate, and the two kits that they shared. He couldn’t wait to return to them, to hold them. “Meadowtree and I weren’t all that close. But I promised her parents I would help them look.”

“Because everybody else gave up.” Twistedshine’s words didn’t need to be poised as a question. 

“Hey.” Nightrit caught her blind eye. “We are about to prove to them that they are wrong.”

Twistedshine stood still for a heartbeat or two, then dipped her head, brows furrowed with renewed determination. A moment later, Ash reappeared, dragging another of the strange kittypet-moss. Nightdrift wondered if they were meant to eat it, when a StarClan-blessed scent hit his nose and he saw the pieces of meat laying atop the material as Ash pulled it closer. Cody and Scooter bounced on their paws after her, watching curiously.

Nightrift had no idea what a chicken was, but he saw the plump, if a little dry, meat, and his mouth had watered in seconds. He forced himself to hold back, gesturing for Bramblefin and Twistedshine to go ahead first. Twistedshine didn’t see him, of course, but the amazing smell drew her in and she began to take rapid mouthfuls. When Bramblefin backed up to give Nightdrit room, he all but dove in, feeling the ripples of hunger roll through his belly as he bit into the unfamiliar, wonderful food.

At last they were satisfied. They stepped away from the meat, now a pile of crumbs, and returned to the original kittypet-moss. 

“Thank you!” Bramblefin told Ash as he licked his lips.

“I couldn’t get enough of it,” Nightdrift told her.

Ash’s eyes glowed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. What about you, dear? Was it up to your liking?” she asked Twistedshine.

Twistedshine didn’t respond. Nightdrift guessed that she was upset with herself for getting distracted.

Ash blinked sympathetically. “Missing your kits, I take it?”

Twistedshine’s muzzle swung to her. “How did you know?”

Ash laughed. “Well, it’s hardly a secret, love! You smell of milk and kittens. Stale, though. Am I right to say that they’re weaned?”

Twistedshine looked like she was about to snap at Ash to mind her business. Then the lock in her jaw relaxed and she replied, “they’re about a moon older than yours.”

“Do they have a father?”

“Of course they do!”

“Good!” Ash cheered. “Kitties need two parents, I like to think. You never know what could happen to one.” Her gaze drifted to her little ones, who had begun wrestling each other in a ball of fluff. 

“Well, nothing’s going to happen to him. And nothing’s going to happen to me.” Twistedshine’s cold demeanor had returned.

Ash shook her head. “There’s so much that is out of our control, dear. So much that we want to take back. My mother…did she tell you about Red?”

“Your sister’s kit?” Nightdrift guessed. His stomach felt weird.

“Her eldest,” Ash confirmed. “Her precious son. He was such a mama’s boy! I got the news after I found out I was expecting. I told my sis that I was going to have kits, and she told me hers was dead. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

Nightdrift grimaced as a headache hit him. By Bramblefin’s expression, it had struck him as well. They shared a fearful look. 

Nightdrift stood. “We should get going–” but as soon as he was on his paws, his stomach cramped painfully and he fell into a crouch, hissing through the pain.

Ash made no move to help him. The kits broke away from their game and now sat, watching the Clan cats.

Ash let the facade fully fall, and she sneered at them with a face as chill as a blizzard. “Clan cats took him away from us. I’m only returning the favour.”

“Please!” Bramblefin gasped. “We don’t know who Red is!”

Nightdrit’s mind was racing. “R..Redjay? The ShadowClan warrior?”

“Ah, so you DO know him!”

Nightdrift coughed. “Yes, he died of sickness. But that–arg–that w-was an accident. It happens.” 

Ash struck out a paw, cuffing Nightdrift harshly around the ears and making the already painful headache into a blinding one. “The medicine cat refused to treat him. Does that happen?” she challenged.

“Hickoryskip?” Bramblefin struggled to understand. When Ash didn’t blink, he asked, “Gorsedaisy?” He was hardly able to get the name out at all.

ShadowClan’s medicine cat let their own warrior die? Why? And why were they being punished for it now?

“Wee’re nod ShadowClan…” Twistedshine’s speech was becoming slurred. “We had no id-idea.”

“I believe you,” Ash said simply. “That doesn’t mean I care.”

“Pleeze!” Nightdrift couldn’t lift himself from the ground. His stomach cramped agonizingly, as though claws were digging into his stomach, and his muscles had become loose and uncoordinated, unable to be controlled no matter how hard he willed them to move. “My…my kit’ds…need m-m-me.”

He had to get home.

He had to get to his family.

He had to.

Ash tilted her head to one side. “You believe in spirits, don’t you?”

“Yhe,” Nightdrift grunted. His vision was growing darker, black spots dotted around his periphery like an ugly mass of beetles. He wondered if Twistedshine really had stopped moving, or if that was just his eyes. 

Ash smiled. “Then pray to them. Beg them to save you, and know that they will do nothing, like ShadowClan did nothing to protect my nephew.”

Nightdrift tried to respond, to plead, to beg–her or the Stars, but his tongue filled his mouth, any speech he made at this point were only nonsense sounds. He coughed as bile rose up his throat. His last thoughts were of his newborn kits, tucked away safely in the nursery, of how he would never get to hold them close again or raise them to be the best warriors that they could be. Then it all faded to black.

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

--Changed my mind about Twistedshine surviving!

--They were poisoned with antifreeze.

NEXT

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

@ambitiousauthor​

Finally done!

He’s missing a toe. I like to think that it was either one of the boys or Bella-May (the story amuses him now).

I imagined Bella-May looking at him when they met, thinking him hot, and thinking something like “I’d bet he would taste great.”

Which leads me to wonder--which one was the cannibal first?

--

ref by turukhan

[creativecuquilu]

And finally, Tommy goes to a wacky dentist, David discovers another Matrix and Inspector Gadget visits the Backrooms with Worzel - again.

Hope you like them!

[jadecantcreate]

some more once upon a witchlight doodles ! theyre eating popsicles (and it ends…interestingly)

[faux-angelica-va]

Request by Pan!

If you like my work and wanna see more, check out my other accounts! If you want to see everything AS SOON as it's finished, check my X account.

If you want to submit requests easier and see updates, join the server!

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Thank you all for being a part of this journey!

[pensivespacepirate]

rudyard funns' your adjudicator cross

[khruschevshoe]

Genuine question because I keep seeing some rancid takes passing my dashboard bc I'm someone who likes making bad decisions and thus rarely blocks people: So, I can, at least in some fashion, understand how people argue that Izzy's death isn't homophobic (I disagree, btw, but I can at least UNDERSTAND their reasoning due to the presence of other queer characters on the show), but who in their right mind can argue that his death wasn't ableist as all hell?

[nomsfaultau]

Reverse Fault Au for April 1st

Basically, what if SBI + Tubbo were humans working for the SCP Foundation, as well as anomalifying villain ocs at the end (which is where most of the tws come into play) 

Tommy: Thomas. A Threat Assessor, like Dr Blake. He has an uncanny knack for driving even the most docile objects to bloodlust, which is useful in ascertaining exactly how much resources must be allocated to containing that SCP. No one is quite sure how he does it, only that a simple conversation can send objects into rages that somehow never touch the man. Thomas simply wears a delighted grin as devastation unfolds. Why does he do it? Why, the love of chaos of course. He’s only bringing out their innate evil, after all. The anomaly wanted to do it, he just gave it the push to act upon its violent nature. 

Philza: Dr. A. Gon. Is an ancient decrepit old man from The War. He picks up little favorites among the anomalies and is super kind to them. Basically acts as a father figure for them, offering advice, giving little treats, limiting punishments, and helping them cope with the trauma of the Foundation…up until the moment he grows bored. After that it’s experiment after experiment trying to squeeze any last drop of interest out of the object before he discards them and moves onto the next. Anomalies tend to be completely psychologically and physically wrecked by the time he’s done with them. Likes to trap anomalies in complex promises that the Foundation can exploit easily. His cane is actually a sword stick, and the cape he has (to mimic wings) can act as a weighted net. 

The Blade: Agent Boore. An MTF captain who leads a squad that somehow literally never manages to fail to recapture an anomaly thanks to his leadership. A lot of anomalies are terrified of him, as he tends to handle the containment breach punishments after catching them. Anomalies don’t tend to try to escape ever again after encountering Agent Boore. He armed to the teeth with near batman levels of gear. Tactics include pumping adrenaline into his veins, filling a room with toxic gas (immune bc of his gas mask (he wears it even while sleeping)) and the humble bazooka. Definitely on steroids. Agent Boore sees a containment breach as a challenge. He likes proving humanity (but mostly himself) stronger than monsters. Is insanely paranoid and tends to be the straight man who is secretly more insane than everyone else. Met Dr. A. Gon in WWII but got Captain America’d, and is actually now trying to sue marvel for using his life story. He does the job in order to protect the poor orphans of the world (evil)

Tubbo: Security Camera B. Is a security officer. Not a single thing goes unnoticed in the entire Foundation. The second an anomaly is out of line they’re reported and appropriately punished. Their personalities are represented in reverse fault by their favorite monitors. Jasmine has a picture of a dinosaur as her screen saver, Rhodes is a picture of an apple tree and technically it’s the oldest of the new computers but they run a mean legal complaint software that really saves the Foundation’s hide. Rosalind is a pic of someone meditating in a field of flowers and Sec Cam B secretly uses that computer to play games to distress. Sec Cam B also works as a recruitment officer given how much conviction about the Foundation they have. ‘It’s the moral thing to do, you have to join. Don’t you want to save humanity?’ They’re insufferably righteous in moral conviction. Lawful evil. 

Wilbur: A. Void. Initial contact researcher, as he has a sharp eye (the other lost to an anomaly years ago) and an even sharper tongue that tends to not only save his life but also weasel out information from the object that would otherwise not have been gotten. His prejudices are flipped from Fault Au. Now, he thinks it unfair that anomalies have more power than humans, and that such a dominance would only lead to subjugation if given time. After all, the powerful always abuse such might don’t they? He believes everything he does is necessary for his own survival. He thinks his punishments are fair, which they could almost be considered to be compared to actual sadists like Agent Boore or Dr. A. Gon. 

———————————————————————

And on to the villain SCPs!

Webb: A humanoid SCP with eight eyes, six arms, mandibles. Webb has incorrectly healed surgical scars on its throat from an encounter with Dr. A. Gon’s scalpel. An anomaly that can shoot out tendrils of spiderweb that, when making contact, suppress heightened emotions. Effect is strongest while webbing is attached to both object and target, though loses effect about ten minutes after creation, so it is sometimes used to capture other anomalies. While not strong, it is important that Webb doesn’t escape because any urge to recontain it will be suppressed. At most extreme, it can shut down a person till they’re paralyzed, which on a few occasions was enough to stop a human heart because continuing to beat was simply too much effort. 

Dr. Blake: The Scimitar Smile. It is a set of 32 humanoid teeth with a crack through the upper right incisor due to an encounter with Agent Boore. The teeth can move somehow, and tend to hunt in a pack. On their own, a person within their aura will be acutely aware of their own flaws. Often persons with disabilities such as PTSD or anxiety will be triggered by its presence. Exposure to this object leads to strong self loathing and occasional suicides.

It’s when it gets a Host that the Scimitar Smile is at its most dangerous. Once a Host is selected, the teeth will crawl up them and burrow like ticks into the flesh of their cheeks in the arrangement of an external smile. The Scimitar Smile prefers to keep Hosts for a while, but will inevitably abandon it, and during escapes will take many Hosts in rapid succession. Old Hosts tend to scream when they hear their own names, have very little agency, and are incredibly compliant to orders.

Once assimilated, both the Host and the Scimitar Smile’s mouths will begin to speak, saying different things. When recorded and replayed, it sounds like chattering nonsense. Despite being unaware of its contents, the noise is regarded as a cognitohazard as it tends to drive people insane. Only a few reports of what individuals hear in person exist, as those that survive are left in psychological annihilation and refuse to talk about what they heard and did as a result. What we can piece together is this: Past being aware of their flaws, a listener is manipulated into acting on them in the most self destructive way possible.

The Scimitar Smile brings out the worst in people.

[darabeatha]

/ All my muses have a big E S R A tattooed in fancy cursive on their bicep, if you care

[thethingything]

anyway on the plus side we get to keep the tooth we are having extracted and I think that'll be cool. we keep joking about putting it on a necklace or something

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

A Night's End: Fresh Hope (pt. 4)

Nightfly Origin

First

Previous

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

The three cats walked slowly, their energy drained with every step as much as their hope had been seeped out of their hearts with every kittypet or alleyway loner they spoke to, all giving the same answer.

No one had seen Meadowtree or Feathergaze, or any Clan cat besides them, for that matter.

Nightdrift glanced ahead at Twistedshine, who’s muzzle was locked and eyes were narrowed in determination. Determined to find her sister, or determined to still believe that she would, he couldn’t tell. 

A sigh brought his attention to Bramblefin, walking beside him. He leaned over and whispered in the brown tabby’s ear. “Were you two close?” he asked.

Bramblefin looked at Nightdrift, then at his own paws, caked with the dust that littered the strange pathways that lined the Twolegplace. “Been friends since we were young,” he answered.

“Mates?” 

Bramblefin shook his head, and Nightdrift could see that it pained him. “No,” he responded through what sounded like a lump in his throat. “I mean…I caught feelings, but…”

“She never did?” Nightdrift guessed sympathetically.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have the courage to ask before, and now…I’ll never know what her answer would have been.” His lips trembled, and the dark cloud over his eyes watered with fresh emotion. Nightdrift stepped closer, hoping to press against him and soothe as much pain as he could, but before his paw could touch the dusty ground, Twistedshine whirled around, bristling.

“Don’t say that” she hissed, saliva swinging from her snapping teeth. “We WILL find her, safe and sound, and you WILL have your answer!” Before either tom could respond, she whipped back around and continued on, tail lashing.

Nightdrift lowered his voice to a whisper, and spoke again into Bramblefin’s ear. “Has she been doing okay? Other than now?” He wanted to know if Twistedshine felt better when she was surrounded by other loved ones, her kits, her friends, or if the distraction of everyday life was enough to quiet the beast that grief brought. If it was different from now, when Feathergaze–and Meadowtree-was the front and centre of all their thoughts. He wasn’t sure why. Pity, probably.

Bramblefin shrugged. “I think she just hides it well,” he murmured back. “Feathergaze is more than a sister to her. She was–is–her best friend, and in a way, her daughter.”

“I heard.” Nightdrift wondered what it would be like to raise your younger sibling as your own kit. He guessed that Twistedshine didn’t have much of a choice. He didn’t know what kind of parents they had or how bad they were, he only knew that Twistedshine took it upon herself to take care of her kit-sister so that she would be happier than Twistedshine had been.

His eyes rested on the blind she-cat, who stomped on with a growl. What must it be like to lose the one cat you swore to always keep happy? What must she feel, knowing that the sister she must have sworn to protect is surely dead–or at least, will never be found by the Clans again?

Nightdrift’s chest ached as a storm of ice swept through his lungs and up his throat, where it sat as heavy as a rock. He tried to swallow it, stumbling, but it didn’t budge.  If this was how bad he felt just thinking about these cats’ pain, how could they move on, feeling it, expecting to live and hunt and patrol as if they don’t?

So distressed and distracted by these thoughts, he didn’t realize that Twistedshine had stopped, and bumped into her rear.

“Watch it,” she growled.

“Sorry.” Nightdrift blinked, realizing with a start that Twistedshine had stopped because she was speaking to someone. It was hard to tell in the dark light–night had fully fallen, and the tall Twoleg lights that lined the Thunderpaths were absent in this small row of dens–but he was sure that she was a tortoiseshell cat. He waited for her eyes to flash towards him, but even as she clearly faced him, there wasn’t so much as a glimpse. Did she HAVE eyes?

“As I was saying,” Twistedshine huffed, “have you seen any Clan cats around?”

The elderly kittypet let out a chuckle. For some reason, it made Nightdrift flinch. “Haven’t seen anyone around, hon. Don’t have the equipment for it.”

Equip…what? Must be a kittypet word.

“Blind?” Twistedshine asked.

“That’s right. And if you had to ask, I take it you’s the same.”

“For about four seasons now,” Twistedshine told her. “Cataracts.”

“Ah, rough.”

“Excuse me.” Bramblefin pushed forward. “We’re looking for some cats. Have you–uhm–scented them around? Or know anyone who did? We’re kind of in a hurry.”

The old cat responded to his request for hast with a long, massive yawn that sent an unpleasant odour into the three cats’ faces. They couldn’t help themselves from flinching. “It’s possible I smelt them. It’s even possible I spoke to them.”

Twistedshine straightened. Brmablefin leaned forward, ears perked, and Nightdrift’s eyes widened. “You did?” Twistedshine gasped. “Were they okay?”

“Was a she-cat with them?” Bramblefin put in. “She would have smelt like the two of us.”

“And another would have smelt like me,” Nightdrift added.

“Which way did they go?”

“Did a Twoleg take them?”

“Were they injured?”

“How many did you see–uh hear?”

The old cat smacked her tail against the ground. “Quiet, would you? How many tongues you think I have?”

Nightdrift ducked his head. “Sorry.”

Twistedshine scratched her claws against the tan Thunderpath impatiently. “She’s my sister, so excuse me if I’m in a rush to find her.”

The old cat tilted her head to one side. “Oh, yes, it can be tough losing kin, can it? The pain so hard, like the death of your own heart right inside of you.” Her words were raspy, creaking like a broken branch. “My own little kit found out her son had died not too long ago. A sickness that could have been cured if some cats had just given him care took him away from us. Ah, maybe you know him. Maybe you hated him too, like the cats who killed him.”

What was she going on about? “I’m sorry for your loss,” Nightdrift told her earnestly, albeit with confusion. “Perhaps…you understand why we want to find our Clanmates so much?”

The old cat’s muzzle wrinkled, reminding Nightdrift of a hungry dog. “You don’t care about my loss. Listen to you! I tell you about my dead grandbaby and my poor daughter’s broken heart, and you only want me to stop talking so you can go find your kin. What selfishness!”

Nightdrift ducked his head. Was he being selfish? 

“We could talk to you about it…when we get back?” Bramblefin offered. 

“Ha!” The old cat’s laugh was sharp, slicing through the air as clear as a claw. “Don’t bother. I want nothing to do with you Clan cats if it ain’t sending you on your way.”

“And which way would that be?” Twistenshine’s question was more of a snap. 

The old cat curled her lip in distaste. She nodded across the Thunderpath. “That direction ‘til you find a little stream. Follow it to a bridge. That’s where I sent them.”

Twistedshine had already bounded across the path before she could finish, Bramblefin hard on her paws. 

“Thank you,” Nightdrift told the old she-cat. “This is the most news we’ve gotten since the Flood.”

“Then go, and get away from me before I change my mind!”

Without needing more insistence, Nightdrift raced after his companions, fresh hope lighting his steps.

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

NEXT:

@ambitiousauthor

--Old Jacky!

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Could Be Useful (short story)

Bella-May paced back and forth, her tail lashing and her fur spiked. “I can’t believe this! Outdone by a kittypet!”

Her great-grandson, Myrtlewing, watched her with a passive gaze as he groomed Alderstar’s fur, who’s eyes were half-closed. “Are you sure you’re not being dramatic?” 

Bella-May glared at him, her eyes narrowing further when she noticed the teasing glint on his face. She had come here hoping that Myrtlewing might share her feelings, unlike Houndtooth, but so far it didn’t seem as though her kin cared a whisker. “You know it’s frustrating!”

Myrtlewing shrugged. “How much did she kill?”

Bella-may bristled. “More than me!” 

“I don’t see the importance,” Myrtlewing replied. He paused from his grooming to do so, and Alderstar lifted his sleepy head to grunt in displeasure. Myrtlewing reasumed licking the back of his neck. Alderstar began to purr, resting his head back on his front paws. Meanwhile, Bella-May was holding back a hiss of frustration.

Myrtlewing dipped his head. “I get it, Bella-Ma. You had one of the best kill counts of all the residences, and now someone new comes along–”

“Named Styrofoam!”

“--Named Styrofoam, and takes that achievement from you. You can’t do much about it, because you’re dead. Well, you can lure living cats or kill the dead here, no difference to me, but I guess the distinction might matter to you.”

“You know what matters to me?” Alderstar murmured, eyes still shut. “Getting a good cleaning.”

Myrtlewing cuffed him playfully around the ears, then bent to groom them anyway. 

Bella-May bit the inside of her lip. Her kin was right, logically, but emotionally, she wanted to smack him for not agreeing with her. “No, it’s not the same to me. Does it not bother you?”

Myrtlewing shrugged again. “I don’t see why it should. It never mattered to me how many cats I killed, that was only a bonus. What mattered was how much fun I had.” Myrtlewing grinned. “And if her methods differed from mine, then I guess I got new things to learn and try.” It began to make more sense why Myrtlewing was so nonchalant about the situation–his favourite part of killing was when he got to try something new. Of course the prospect of meeting someone that could introduce him to more methods would excite him.

Myrtlewing leaned closer to his great-ma. “They’re almost as mean as us. They’ll earn a reputation. You know what I think? I think there’s more cats to blame when someone goes missing or turns up bones. That’s useful, isn’t it?”

“Someone’s not being useful,” Alderstar complained.

Myrtlewing responded by tugging on Alderstar’s ear, and the two began to wrestle, rolling around in a golden-brown whirl of fur.

Bella-May frowned as she padded away. Myrtlewing’s idea wasn’t very useful if she wanted to take credit. But she saw his point nonetheless. Still, she wanted to find at least one kin that shared her feelings, so that she didn’t feel so silly for having them. Maybe Dullahan. Maybe one of her kits.

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

--The ending is sudden and weird, but I just wanted to put in what Myrtlewing would think about the whole Styrofoam thing--in short, he couldn't give less of a shit. But he is amused and likes poking fun at his great-ma, while also helping her out.

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