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Post by stripebird on Jun 18, 2011 1:13:59 GMT -5
 Moorland heather danced to and fro in the wind, and the shrubs quivered under the same force. After scouting the land, the patrol of WindClan cats retreated back to camp... their pelts drenched and speckled by blood, and their hearts... their hearts grave, reminded of their loss. Maybe they had won this battle, this one, single dispute among many others - ones that had long since passed, and ones that hadn't yet taken place, it saddened Stripestar to realize it almost meant nothing along the Clans way of life. Greencloud had died for his Clan, but in the act of something unnecessary. It could have been avoided, and that was the shame of it all! Now they had lost two of their warriors, and to RiverClans games. A sigh broke past the pale tabbies chest. What he wouldn't give to go back in time...
The patrol neared the hollow, the floor worn and smoothened by countless footsteps. It was familiar to the touch, something he would know and recognize anywhere. As he slipped into the clearing, headed directly for the flatrock, his heart swelled with the makings of a grudge, a fresh vendetta that rocked him off of his paws. They took his best friend, and the worst part was he didn't even know who did it! There was a murderer over there, hiding behind their river, knowing what they had done. They needed to be put to justice, he thought grimly, his spring green gaze darkening under the shadow of his brow. Cowards. All of them - Feathertail had dipped her head in sympathy, but she could be just as easily in on the kill as the one truly responsible! What a travesty.
He was aching and tired, his wounds sore, and just beginning to scab over. There was no greater weight that tugged at him however than the sorrow in his chest. Did they even acknowledge that his best friend was gone? His most closest ally, gone within the blink of an eye and without a farewell. This unexpected strike had clawed at WindClan good, he heaved a sigh; the absence of warmth in his stare deepening into a formality that was not known to Stripestar. For once he felt nothing. He felt nothing but emptiness. This was RiverClan's fault, and the facts has spoken... they had caused this pain. He blamed them for everything wrong that was happening! It was like he was convincing himself, but he didn't even need to do that, because it was so evident that it was already true to the world. A pause, a stillness, he was secluding from everything. Engulfed by his ambition.
"All those old enough to catch your own prey, gather here beneath the Flatrock for a Clan meeting!" He yowled, his normally gentle and honey-sleek voice rough around the edge. They needed to have a vigil for Greencloud, and a following ceremony - if he was going to lead WindClan, things had to be set right. They would know what he wanted, and how he saw the world.
RiverClan would pay.
And after he was done making his Clanmates feel rancorous, he was certain they would follow him even if it was to the pits of hell he went.
They would pay. |
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Post by elmfrost on Jun 18, 2011 4:46:09 GMT -5
 [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,399,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] | [atrb=background,http://i54.tinypic.com/ehaxxj.jpg]There were a lot of ways someone could see the world, a lot of ways that right there and then seemed beyond irrelevant. Right there and then, it all felt like it was black and white, like the truth behind everything was wearing thin, the purpose of existing growing weak at the knees. His head was having a hard time wrapping around the idea, the fact that they'd lost their deputy that day, that the stupid border dispute had rendered them without a deputy. Unconsciously, the toms claws unsheathed to dig into the ground below his paws, bulky frame keeping close behind the leader as they made their way across the moors. True, he didn't know the deputy well, but in every clan there was that connection, that piece that went missing with every loss.
Maybe RiverClan just lacked that understanding.
Tabby and white pelt smudges with blood, the warrior couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration in the fact that his role in the whole fight had been so low. He should have thrown himself in more, should've been one of the cats chancing the last of those rotten fleabags out. But no, he'd lost himself in thought. Since when had he done that? It didn't matter, not a lot did right there and then except for the unavoidable fact that they had to avenge the tom, and he had a strong suspicion the leader felt the same way. Lifting his icy gaze up to scan the ginger tom, he considered asking the leader himself but instead shook away the thought with the movement of his head, paws carrying him among the patrol into the camp.
His pawsteps faltered for a moment as the leader moved toward the flatrock, the rest of the clan piling into the camp behind him. How were they meant to face the clan and break the news to them after that? "All those old enough to catch your own prey, gather here beneath the Flatrock for a Clan meeting!" Pressing himself on at Stripestar's rough yowl, he led himself toward the front of the gathering clan, his huge frame standing out slightly against his thinner clanmates. But, his gaze was only for the tom up on the rock, a look of determined frustration on his face. He was going to make them pay for that, he was going to do all he could to show those fish-scented rats that what they did was going to be their downfall. WORD COUNT: four fifteen TAGGED: the clan NOTES: n/a |  [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,399,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true] |
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Post by C!NDERDUST on Jun 18, 2011 8:50:42 GMT -5
The sky mirrored the deadbeat, defeated energy of the returning warriors as they piled into camp, eyes fixed on the ground beneath their dusty paws. It could only be assumed that the battle had ended badly. Cinderdust's heart sank as her gaze fell upon Stripestar, who did not make his way over to her so that she could examine his wounds, but instead marched straight over to the Flatrock and yowled for the Clan to gather beneath him, his voice tinged with steel. It could only go down from there.
Stripestar took his position very seriously. Another cat less suited to the position would probably give a speech about hope, the future, peace. Stripestar, not so much. His would be filled with passion, anger, and revenge. He was no fool, but he was no idiot. He knew the Clan wouldn't settle for placidity, sitting idly in camp and continuing on as though nothing had happened. He would have to speak to their minds to convince them that their hearts would only lead them into disaster and despair. He would be careful to avoid retaliation, but quick to assure. That was what made him the best. Stripestar had the best interests of the Clan in mind, whatever decision he made in the end. Cinderdust knew this, and she trusted that this event would be no different from the others in the past. Wisdom was one of his strengths. And when he faltered, she was there to give him the extra push. That was the role of the medicine cat.
A thought interrupted her mind's ramblings, which returned to the scrawny tom huddled behind her. Raggedpaw, her latest charge, was sassy and clever, with a mean streak that she was determined to break. She followed his wide gaze to the various wounds that plagued the warriors and apprentices, They would treat them soon enough. For a moment, she wondered if there were enough herbs to treat the cats, as she assessed the number and extremity of their battle scars. But then Stripestar was glaring down from his silhouette against the sky, and with a nudge to Raggedpaw's shoulder, she trotted delicately out of her den, settling beside a few tumbling apprentices, who immediately suspended their silly games with one minty glare from her. Tucking her long, slender tail around her paws, Cinderdust gazed appraisingly up at Stripestar, begging him silently not to say anything too controversial. The Clan needed guidance - not fuel for the fire.
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Post by russia on Jun 18, 2011 14:08:17 GMT -5
The angry apprentice just flattened his ears, his good eye scanning the den in search of anyone decently put together. Since the fight, he'd healed considerably, but still found moving around more difficult than usual. Sighing, Raggedpaw watched as Cinderdust moved closer to him. "Stop!" he mewled, trying to move away. "I'm not a helpless newborn!" Right, Raggedpaw. The hair on his shoulders bristled like a porcupine, revealing his emotions. Never in his life had he liked being treated like he was the weaker link, the pathetic one. He wore that mask, anyway, and didn't meed his mentor of all cats to rub it in his face. Calming down, Raggedpaw allowed himself to poke his ears above one of the injured cats. "Will he die?" asked the apprentice bluntly, no empathy in his voice.
Today was his bog day, and he acted like he didn't give a piece of fox dung. Honestly, he could care less. Lately, Raggedpaw hadn't even thought about his ceremony. Minnowpaw swam in his mind constantly, and invaded his dreams to the point where he couldn't think of anything besides her. Rolling his eyes, he trotted after Cinderdust, but not before giving one of the wounded warriors a good kick with his back leg out of pent-up anger. Take that! Giggling, he didn't even think of the concequences Cinderdust would give him if she saw him act in such a manner, but he padded after her uneagerly,
Sighing, he slouched after finding a place beside Cinderdust, looking pathetically bored. Couldn't he just go home and sleep? It didn't interest him to watch other apprentices get their names... and become warriors... when he himself could never have such a title. "I'm bored," moaned the cat, giving a huge sigh of disgust and dislike. "I don't want to be here. Why do i have to be here? Can I LEAAAAAVE?" his high pitched mewl sounded very three moon-ish, but his act wasn't really honest. Truthfully, he wanted to suck the attention from those cats and place the spotlight on him, even if it left everyone with a negative idea. His tail thrashed back and forth venomously, slapping the cat next to him almost on purpose.
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Post by griffinkit on Jun 18, 2011 17:24:15 GMT -5
"H-hey!" came Griffinflight's quiet mew. He moved a little bit away, not really paying attention to who had struck him with what felt like their tail. The tabby's interest was listening to what Stripestar had to say. No doubt it was about the battle. He learned about it after he got back on solo patrol - his own idea of course - and by then it was too late to catch up. It'd made things terrible if h showed anyway. What help could a poorly trained warrior do? Though a nagging thought said he should have been there. Even dying, he had purpose. WindClan lost their deputy. He should have been there. Should have done something. A...a distraction. Anything! Now the tabby tom watched his Clan mates gather around him, signs of the wounds still fresh on their bodies. He hung his head. As usual he didn't want to be seen or catch anybody's eye. It was difficult. He felt the tail strike him again. This time he gave a little jump from his position. Turning around to face the cat, Griffinflight opened his mouth to say something but stopped just as quick.
Uh. Raggedpaw.
The medicine cat apprentice sat next to him, appearing thoroughly bored with the whole ceremony. It was just as well he didn't say anything. Raggedpaw was known to be a little sour, and he didn't want to get in trouble in front of Stripestar. Bad enough he didn't participate in the fight. Would he be seen telling off apprentices? No, he'd sit there passive aggressive as he always did. There was no fight in him. Pathetic. Griffinflight didn't know how to take to Raggedpaw; the tabby couldn't remember if they shared a conversation before. Now the apprentice was smacking him with his tail. Griffinflight looked quickly over to the WindClan medicine cat sitting beside her apprentice. Cinderdust was looking to Stripestar. Among the other gathered cats was the deputy, Elmfrost. More would come but he was surprised by the lack of cats. Was the battle too much? He shivered, picturing dead bodies and wailing cats.
"Where is everybody?" he muttered to thin air, hazel eyes glancing around anxiously. Shifting his focus to Raggedpaw again, he summed the courage to ask; "uh, are there a lot of injured cats? You know...from the battle?" he then motioned his head to the medicine den, expecting injuries keeping his Clan mates answering their leader. It wasn't great for conversation but it'd do.
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Post by tackle on Jun 18, 2011 18:13:10 GMT -5
The sun was shining, the beautiful WindClan territory's grasses swayed from side to side in the open moorland. I mean, who wouldn't want to hunt? She was hunting when the whole thing happened. Every cat looked at her tawny pelt, almost completely unharmed. The she-cat had never been in a battle, and was afraid to admit it. She was always somewhere else. It sucked and she felt like she wasn't serving her clan correctly. So, she hunted, and using her lithe and skinny body, with her long strides she managed to catch a rotund rabbit. It could be better, but it was a clean kill. The rabbit wasn't bathing in blood, lets just say that. A satisfied purr escaped her and she picked up the rabbit and padded back to camp. Her glossy pelt shimmered in the sunlight. It was a beautiful greenleaf day. As she made her way back to camp, she couldn't help but feel like she was missing something. Tawnyspots broke into a quick sprint.
The clan chatter was especially loud. She slipped into camp and plopped the rabbit on the pile. She saw everyone around camp and flinched. "I missed another battle." she told herself sadly. She looked around and sighed. No one she knew. She looked towards Raggedpaw, and remembered how bratty he seemed. So she walked away to the other side of the clearing and waited for Stripestar to speak. She was afraid someone would figure out she missed the battle, or that she wasn't there. She felt not loyal, and she just didn't want to speak to any of the other cats. She was shy, yes. And she didn't know what exactly to say.
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Post by graywind on Jun 19, 2011 14:36:20 GMT -5
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It just wasn't right.. Then again, no one ever said life was fair. But the silver tom never exactly minded; yes, he would be heartbroken. He would be hurting within, but he was always bright. He was one of the only remaining rays of hope among the warriors. No matter what, he always smiled. Always joked. Because he hated seeing his Clanmates down, and he hated it even worse when he was sad, because then he couldn't cheer them up. He always avoided being down and gloomy, mournful. Visibly hurt.
But not this time.
A soft sigh broke past his lips, wincing from time to time as he proceeded into the camp alongside his comrades, trailing closely behind his leader. He was so sore..
Blinking a daze from his golden gaze, he realized the full brunt of the aftermath of the battle. Even Stripestar had fallen victim. Even he himself. His jaw clenched.
No.. No, this is not how it's supposed to be!
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[/color][/font] Tears glittered at his soft, blank gaze. Things were supposed to be better. They were getting there, weren't they?
And then RiverClan.. Oh, how badly he wanted to hate them, to blame them. But he couldn't. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't. All he could do was blame them.
Blinking, he paused near Stripestar's perch, gentle gaze no longer playful, but focused. Grim. He had to get past this, for everyone; but not now. [/justify] » STATUS: finished!
» TAGS: entirety of WindClan!
» COUNT: 247 words!
» NOTES: reaaallyyy rusty!
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Post by cinderwing on Jun 19, 2011 22:37:07 GMT -5
Cinderwing felt like she had just ran to Mothermouth and back.
A cut stung above her eye and one shoulder was soaked with blood, but she could hardly bring herself to acknowledge it. One phrase repeated over and over in her mind, a pounding, merciless thought that refused to offer her even a single moment of peace. Greencloud is dead, Greencloud is dead, Greencloud is dead... The black and white warrior shook her head tiredly, and nearly stumbled as a sudden lightness flooded inward upon her. The she-cat’s vision clouded, and she paused for a moment until it cleared. The loss of blood was beginning to take its toll, but she would worry about that later. Cinderwing knew that she would not die; not now, at least.
Lifting her head, Cinderwing peered overtop the warrior in front of her to make out the lithe shape of Stripestar at the head of their group. His tail was lower than normal, and the she-cat could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he was handling their newfound reality no better than he was.
It seemed that in the next moment they were back at camp, flooding back into the hollow like a grim, silent river. Cats were emerging from their nests, peering closely with looks of horror about their faces. No doubt they had smelled the blood. And the sorrow.
And the rage.
Cinderwing knew that this was far from something they could simply brush under the metaphorical heather; they would have to strike back at RiverClan with the unyielding force of the wind itself. Sighing, Cinderwing veered away from the edge of camp and toward the Flatrock, barely registering her leader’s call to gather. Her head was swimming, but the she-cat was far from drowning. Her golden eyes glittered with a sort of fierce determination, and vengeance burned at the edges of her thoughts.
Cinderwing settled into a spot near Elmfrost, a tabby tom that had also been at the battle. She said nothing to him, merely giving him a knowing glance before turning her attention back to Stripestar. She registered others clustered around her: Cinderdust with her apprentice, Raggedpaw. Griffinflight asking quietly about injuries. Tawnyspots. Graywind.
Cats she knew.
Stifling another sigh, the senior warrior turned her attention to her leader.
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Post by spruce on Jun 20, 2011 0:15:11 GMT -5
the dark small she-cat slowly walked out of the warrior's den after gaining sleep from being on the dawn patrol. she could vaguely figure out what was going on. she heard stripestar call for a clan meeting, but she was slowing trying to put clues together of what happen while she was sleeping. there were some cats who weren't hurt at all, but others showed injuries. she didn't know what to do at this point besides go sit around the gathering cats near the flatrock. sprucefeather walked towards the tawnyspots who was in the same situation as she was, or at least so sprucefeather thought. "what just happened?" spurcefeather whispered to tawnyspots hoping no one else heard her question.
sprucefeather wasn't one who wanted to fight, she was more of a peacemaker than anything. she looked around and saw the two motionless bodies of clanmembers. her friends, lost at the paws of who? riverclan? what was the meaning of this in the first place? if there were no reason of fighting then what exactly was the reason? so much buzzed through her her mind and then thinking of what was stripestar going to do next? take revenge for the death of a comrade and solve what? take a life for a life, right? they would never get even, it will be constant fighting until what? until starclan tells them to solve it and make amends to the fighting over the death of a friend. the way of life. no one lives forever and life isn't fair, but avenging a death is one thing. taking it for no reason is heartless. sprucefeather's dark orange orbs stared up at stripestar, glaring at him wondering what exactly was he going to tell the clan next. there were few attributes she adored about him, but others frightened her. unknown of what may happen next. her thoughts were endless.
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Post by SORRELpaw! on Jun 20, 2011 17:56:53 GMT -5
 she heard the call from the nursery, the rough edge in his tone making her jump. the kit rolled over, quietly pushing herself to her white paws before stumbling out into the sun, hissing as it assaulted her eyes. she glanced around, horror settling deep in her heart, ice water trapped in her veins; so many looked as if they had been carelessly throttled by some dog (though that may have been the little kit's overactive imagination) and she could see bloodied scratches and - what had happened?
confused, the little tabby made her way around the group of cats around the flatrock, searching desperately for someone that looked like they could help her. someone friendly. griffinflight was there, but he was sitting next the raggedpaw; cinderdust, it appeared, was preoccupied with watching stripestar. elmfrost and cinderwing looked far too angry; graywind looked far too grim. with a small whimper sorrelkit caught a glimpse of two cats - one spotted and splotched, the other a dark tabby - and instantly slunk on over to them. sprucefeather, tawnyspots, she whispered, voice low from fright, what's wrong? where are greyfur and greencloud?
i shouldn't have left the nursery. she thought sadly, gazing around her at her clanmates. for a kitten who had never seen a battle - or even the aftereffect - it was truly terrifying.
ooc: fail post is fail? and i got really confused in the middle of writing this. @@
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Post by swan on Jun 20, 2011 18:22:14 GMT -5
 the sound of the patrol had swanwing curious as to what was going on in the camp. she had heard stripestar call a clan meeting as she made her way to the flatrock to listen to what he had to say. she was slightly confused as to why the cats who had been out on the patrol looked so sadden and defeated. what happened out there? her thoughts were toward those who were injured and what was going through their minds. she moved through the cats who were already seated in front of the flatrock and avoided raggedpaw altogether. the apprentice was unlikable with his sour mood all the time. She couldn't quite figure out why he was so.
her thoughts were to stay put and see what she could do for the clan. she didn't fight with the patrol, but she wanted to help out with the best that she could before something else happened. where was greencloud? wouldn't he be apart of this meeting to? swanwing sat in the middle of her clanmates to not feel like she was left out of something even though she did not help her clanmates fight in the patrol against riverclan it seemed. she was curious to what truly transpired during the patrol against riverclan. what was such the fuss against riverclan that they had to leave windclan's cats injured and looking for something to grasp a hold of? swanwing only held herself up to keep from trying to ask questions before stripestar spoke of what happened and what would come.
Lyrics: Running Up That Hill by Placebo
Location; flatrock
Starring; Windclan
Words; 259
Notes; crummy post [/size][/justify][/center] |
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Post by dustcloud on Jun 20, 2011 19:11:50 GMT -5
 crawling out of the apprentice's den at the sound of stripestar's yowl, dustpaw wondered what was going on. he wasn't part of the patrol that went off against riverclan, but he didn't seem like he needed to be there to listen to what went wrong with riverclan, but coming out of the den, the mood around camp seemed to change. it wasn't filled with happiness or anything with joy, but sorrow and regrets. he could tell just by looking at his clanmates. the only one who didn't feel this well, he noticed was typical raggedpaw.who was a mood killer for everything because it wasn't about him. dustpaw had ignored his mews as he found himself sitting far away from raggedpaw as possible because it would have ended in something terrible if he had sat next to the grouchy apprentice who wouldn't be able to get anything special like a warrior name.
dustpaw was interested in the news stripestar had to say, wondering how it would affect windclan this moon and what would happen with riverclan and their small victory against windclan. would windclan fight back harder next time to defeat riverclan once and for all? or would they be at the mercy of windclan? his thoughts were getting the better of him, and another cat could probably see that he was anxious to hear what was going to happen just by watching the way his tail swished back and forth waiting patiently to hear what was going to be done by the clan leader and the news he had to share.
Lyrics: I'm Already There by Lonestar
Location; Flatrock
Starring; Windclan
Words; 262
Notes; blah [/size][/justify][/center] |
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Post by tackle on Jun 20, 2011 20:51:33 GMT -5
tawnyspots gently dipped her head to sprucefeather. when she was about to reply, she noticed that little sorrelkit was heading their way. she noted the fear in the young she-cat's eyes. she touched her nose to the she-cat's shoulder. "Don't fret, little one," she whispered, her tone was as soft as honey, "think of it as a bad dream, it'll all be over soon." her eyes were so very soft. tawnyspots just loved kits, and in her eyes, sorrelkit was like her own. tawnyspots started at greyfur and greencloud, sorrow engulfing her gaze. she quickly blinked it away, and looked towards sprucefeather and sorrelkit. "Border dispute, against RiverClan." she muttered. "These lives shouldn't had been lost." she added sadly.she looked towards sorrelpaw.
"Your might get your mentor today, though." she added hopefully. she wanted to be optimistic, to spruce up the mood. She hoped it didn't seem like she was ignoring Sprucefeather.
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Post by stripebird on Jun 22, 2011 2:25:42 GMT -5
Slowly but surely, cats poured into the clearing; their heads poking from dens, or beyond shaded undergrowth, what little be there in the first place. Stripestar was quiet, deliberating, allowing them to settle – the newfound revelations blazing in their gazes. Did they feel anxious, or incensed? Couldn’t they see the blood on each other, and smell the defeat - the death of their own?
The bodies were placed gently in the center of the cluster, the fur still flowing, and the muscles still solid. There was a pang in his chest when he looked at them; they looked so unflustered, as if they were merely sleeping. His light emerald moonstones tightened at the notion, the simulated remedy that did not exist. The leader was tormenting himself because he knew no matter how serenely animated they appeared, curled around their own stiff figures, they were dead; the cherry fluid was proof of the poignant actuality.
Those words hung in his mind, the weight of them pulling his entire foundation downwards; all self-control plummeted heavily.
They were dead.
Ears drooped somberly, he searched for words. They did not come easily. “WindClan,” he started faintly, forcing himself to meet their eyes, “RiverClan ambushed us without a second’s notice, the cowards made certain we were outnumbered, and we fought back enough to win,” His tone rose, gaining energy – never losing the grief-stricken indication that plagued it to begin with. “But victorious as we are, we lost something more important than conquest.” He bowed his striped, and crimson speckled head to the limp shapes between the assemblies. “Let StarClan note these two cats’ faithfulness and audacity as they join their ranks, two fervent stars for Silverpelt.”
His gut churned uncomfortably, fighting the surge of sentiment that threatened to make him weak. His breath caught in his throat; he had to appoint someone new in Greenclouds place before moonhigh – would the next deputy end the same way? Was this going to turn into a cycle of bad luck? Regardless of his childish terrors, the bigger question was who would he select? Stripestar skimmed the flock of cats, his rays navigated critically, picking apart every possible candidate like a vulture.
A string of silence entered the atmosphere, followed by subtle whispers being exchanged. It was difficult to believe that this was even happening… just yesterday the Clan had been happy, content and within a matter of hours, how could all hell break loose? How could they end up with a pawful of injured warriors, and two dead companions? More importantly to the pale tabby tom, how could RiverClan dare step foot on their land and steal those lives… did they not feel any sense of remorse? Did they raise their young to live without morals? Somehow, Stripestar could not fathom a Clan so self-righteous that its members would slaughter blameless individuals. To him, it was… unheard of. He couldn’t imagine leading his Clan that way; proper integrity was assured.
But among the reeds of his thoughts, there was a certain feline he kept going back to – and no matter how disparaging his requirements, they met every one. Could this cat be their future leader? More importantly, could they handle such a feat? Deciding against announcing his decision just yet, his orbs flickered to Cinderdust’s, green on top of green; he’d announce the new apprentices before that. Savor it, after weighing the magnitude the selection… let alone the entire ordeal in itself.
Yes, he would do that…
“Shykit, Sorrelkit and Dustpaw come forward,” assuming the three were even present – and they were. Shykit and Sorrelkit slipped meekly below him, pursued by a larger Dustpaw, whom was already an apprentice. Stripestar wasted no time, primary attention on Shykit.
“I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon these kits. They would like to become warriors of WindClan, but must first become apprentices. From this day forth, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Shypaw,” he meowed, attempting to keep his voice collected. Having already settled on mentors, a specific brown tom sprang to mind. He singled him out from the crowd, “Moosecreek, you are ready to take on an apprentice for your poise and capability has proved helpful to our Clan, your mentor trained you well- Sorrelkit, from this day forth until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Sorrelpaw.” Stripestar didn’t have to look hard to find her, she sat up close to the front; “Tawnyspots, you are ready to take on an apprentice… your commitment and passion two useful traits I’m sure you will pass on.”
True enough, he admired every one of his warriors. “Dustpaw,” he began again, “you have lost your mentor, and are in need of a new one. Fawnspots- you are a reliable cat, you will take over Dustpaw’s training.” Leaping down from the Flatrock, the insipid ginger tom surveyed the populace, the glint in his gaze reserved. It was better to do it now than wait until the last minute, after all...
He turned, facing Greencloud’s motionless form; it was not as straightforward as words spoke, replacing his lifeless deputy brought him great suffering. “I say these words before the body of Greencloud, so that the spirits of our warrior ancestors may hear and approve of my choice,” he closed his eyes and drew in a breath, “the new deputy of WindClan will be Elmfrost.” The white and tabby-blotched tom was a good choice; Stripestar knew he would not regret his picking…
But how easy the moods could shift; no matter how enlightening new apprentices were, the vast dent in the leader’s chest only deepened.
He bent low beside his old friend, pink nose buried into monochrome fur; inhaling the comforting and familiar scent, while feeling the warmth abscond slowly. All the while he felt as though claws had wedged themselves innate his chest and sliced upwards, severing his heart, splitting it in two…
now was the time to say goodbye. [/blockquote][/font] |
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Post by C!NDERDUST on Jun 22, 2011 8:53:40 GMT -5
As Stripestar spoke, the cats assembled at his feet gazed up at his silhouette, captivated by the words their leader was speaking. Cinderdust's gaze fell not upon their faces, but upon their bodies, the way their muscles tensed, the way their paws shifted, the way their tails flicked to and fro. He had them all in his paws. Had he given the sign for attack, they would have all leaped at once to obey, although their attacker was unknown. They would have immediately forgiven all of RiverClan's wrongs in a heartbeat, had he asked them to. But he didn't.
That being said, he didn't ask them to hate RiverClan, either. But curiously, the faded tabby leader hadn't barely touched on the battle between the two Clans. The two lifeless forms that were stretched beneath her friend on the dusky, heather strewn ground were enough to prove that the battle had consequences. And that was the truth that gave the Clan cats something to think about. Clans fought all the time. But to actually kill a fellow Clan cat, be it one from your own or a rival - that was a dangerous thing.
Stripestar assigned the new apprentices to their mentors, and Cinderdust caught the flash of pride in their eyes, old and young alike. Being a mentor was an honor. It meant that you were strong enough to guide another cat on their journey through life, and to teach them all you knew. It was certainly a reason to be proud. Cinderdust made a mental note to congratulate the new pairings later, when the mourning was over. And it had only just begun, for Stripstar had made his way down beside the two fallen cats, after announcing the new deputy. Elmfrost was certainly the best choice, although there were many good candidates. Stripstar had spoken to her once, before, about the tom, and had spoken quite highly of his good qualities and potential. Now the brown and white tom had a chance to fulfill them.
As the Clan stared at Stripestar, huddled there beside Greencloud's corpse, Cinderdust flicked her tail at Raggedpaw, motioning for him to follow. She padded silently up beside her friend and leader, pressed her nose against his cheek, and gazed at her deputy once more - how peaceful those eyes, those slender legs, that muzzle. It appeared as though the white and black warrior were simply sleeping. But no. Cinderdust leaned forward and buried her delicate muzzle in his soft scruff, saying goodbye for the last time. And then she turned, and with a last glance towards Stripestar, made her way back to the shady den, a stone escape from the sadness and tension that hung in the camp air. She would have to treat many wounds that day, and she hoped that her supply of herbs would be enough.
lyrics: elizabeth & the catapults
coding: smalleh
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