Gifted/later Paranormals:
The Gifted are cats that went through a ceremony (performed by Rattlesnake or another in his group) that altered their chemical make-up, changing them into something close to what Rattlesnake is. The only way for a Gifted cat to ‘reproduce’ is through this ceremony, as when they are changed, they become barren or unable to have off-spring.
This is done through the transfer of ‘power’, where a fragment of one individual’s abilities is transformed into the non-Gifted cat, changing their make-up into that of a Gifted. There are exceptions to the ‘one’ individual statement. See Powered Cats or Mixed Blood.
Gifted cats do not need to eat as often as non-Gifted, they are stronger, faster, and harder to kill by physical attack. They become frozen at the age that they were Gifted. However, they are not immune to sickness. As they grow older, they become stronger and more resistant to all the above, until they reach the stage where they can only be killed by some great force, like a landslide falling on top of them, or having their body completely destroyed.
Apart from being resistant to physical attacks, there are no other perks to this ability. That is, unless you were a Powered Cat or became a Mixed Blood one.
Not Gifted/Later Normals:
Your classic normal cat.
‘Born’ Gifted/Mixed Blood:
Two interchangeable terms until it was found out that Mixed Blood was more common than ‘Born’ Gifted. Born Gifted used to only apply to the few cats (like Will C. Morgen) who were actually born to a Gifted cat (see ‘Gifted’ to understand why this shouldn’t happen). Born Gifted cats only turn up when the female is pregnant (must be several moons into the pregnancy) when she is turned into a Gifted, thus the Gift is also given to the unborn kits.
The functions, however, are as follows. The cat who changed the female gives a fragment of their power to the female and the kits, but by growing within the female, they also receive a fragment of her new power. This means they become exactly the same as a Mixed Blood cat, only they were like that since birth. Born Gifted cats grow up until they are into adult-hood, before they become frozen at that age. If they live that long.
Mixed Blood cats (and with the same effect, Born Gifted) are cats who had two fragments of power shoved into them by two or more Gifted cats. Power fragments are as unique as a thumbprint, and when given to a new cat, shifts and changes a little. When two fragments are given, they overlay and react to each other. In a sense, that power is constantly at war and fighting, keeping a precarious balance between the two. If one power fragment becomes dominant over the other, the Mixed Blood cat will become both mentally and physically unstable and become unpredictable. This is an incurable ‘disease’ that only effects the Gifted. Side effects include one or more mutations in either the bodies mental or physical being. Cats may manifest powers or some sort of physical mutation, like wings or flippers. See Powered Cats for further explanation.
Powered Cats/Later the distinction between them and Mixed Blood became nonexistent:
Cats with powers are common within Rattlesnake’s group. There are no common factors between them other than they have some sort of ability out of the ordinary. However, when changed into a Gifted, their powers will slowly function as a power fragment, changing them into a Mixed Blood cat. Their power will fight with the power fragment before it mutates and gives the Gifted Powered Cat an additional mutation (either another power or some physical anomaly).
Winged Cats/ Later the distinction between them and Mixed Blood became nonexistent, as the original ‘Winged Cats’ disappeared around the time of the Feline War:
Cats with wings. If changed into a Gifted, they are perfectly normal, and will not get Mixed Blood. These, however, were rare in Rattlesnake’s group as they would not be easy to pass off as a normal cat.
Immortal Cat:
Only Rattlesnake falls into this category. He is the original Gifted cat, but is not within the same group as them. He can shapeshift into anything that is close to his size, create small orbs of light (low light, hardly useful), and knows the words to change some cat into a Gifted. He cannot be killed, under any situation, as his body heals almost at once after damage is dealt and sickness doesn’t affect him at all.
Toxic Karma
“You can’t think that the border will hold, do you?” asked Ashall. “Gloria’s troops will raze it.”
“Do you doubt my strategy, deputy?” asked the WindClan leader. She looked down the hill. It had been years since WindClan had seen their old territory and she was smiling as she saw how Rattlesnake had run it into the ground. The moor was empty of prey and even the wild dogs no longer entered the area. The paranormals had destroyed their own food source by over hunting and had scared the dogs away, clearing out almost every chance to thin their overpopulation.
To the WindClan leader this was karma catching up to the paranormal’s leader.
“All we have to do is use his own plan against him. Our warriors in their midst will kill as many of the occupiers as possible. And then we will strike.”
She turned away from her old territory. She had only been a young warrior when Rattlesnake had taken over the lake territory. She had watched him kill a leader on their last life. Watched his own medicine cat use his StarClan cursed powers on her brother.
She closed her eyes and hissed. “This will be for my brother and my mother. We have to eradicate every paranormal from the face of this earth, before they can use whatever powers they have to destroy what is left of us.”
Ashall, who had renounced his warrior name, like so many of them, looked doubtful. “But Gloria…”
“That cat may be the leader of Rattlesnake’s army, but she is still WindClan!” yelled the leader, her eyes back. She didn’t look at Ashall. “She will die in her place just like the rest of the cursed. But for now, she will not attack her old clanmates.”
Ashall’s ears were laid back now as well. He was a little doubtful about following this leader. She clearly was a little…crazy. But he had to agree that Rattlesnake needed to be defeated. He was dangerous and the warrior could still remember when he had killed the old leader.
“I’ll…just go tell the rest of the clan then,” he said, hoping to get away from his insane leader.
“Do that,” snapped the leader. Ashall slunk away, trying to make sure she didn’t notice him again.
Maybe we can get through this without her, but the clan is very loyal. Even if she dies in battle they might not follow me.
The wind gusted down the hill as Ashall walked down to the small tunnel entrance. He was glad they hadn’t made camp on this gusty hill. The clan hardly fit in the old tunnels, but at least they were out of view from any paranormals that were hunting out here.
“Hey,” said the guard, Matchstick. His red fur was bright against the green, but Ashall just nodded to him. He had clearly taken his mate’s place as a guard, even though his pelt color was to easily seen.
Ashall wasn’t in the mood to reprimand him.
He looked down into the main room of the tunnel and sighed. “Windclan, we attack today.”
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Claire’s Breeze of Change
A chilly breeze played through Greenfern’s fur, playing with it like it had in old times, when she had hunted on WindClan territory. This wasn’t such a bad stretch of land, but she wasn’t prepared to meet Rattlesnake’s gaze. She didn’t want to answer his latest question.
“What do you think?” he repeated.
Greenfern shrugged. “Good place to start a war.”
The tom flinched, looking back over the cliff again as if he was honestly thinking of jumping.
The breeze shifted, pulling Adderfang’s scent to the she-cat’s nose again. “Rather bad taste, that comment,” he said, coming up from behind her. “It’s the ‘normals’ that are chasing us anyway, if they honestly want a war, let’s give it to them.”
This time, both Rattlesnake and Greenfern flinched. The cats that wanted a war were her old family. Adderfang had all of his family fighting alongside him, they were all ‘paranormal’. But not Greenfern. WindClan was split in half. Some were Gifted and the rest now view them as different. As dangerous and a threat.
She looked back out at the sea. So, this was the ‘sundrown-place’. Rattlesnake’s sea. Their new home, at least for now.
“If we can help it, it won’t turn into a war,” whispered the tabby tom. “I owe you that much.”
“I should say you do,” muttered Greenfern. “You and your ‘family’ are to blame for all of this. You should at least guaranty our safety.”
Rattlesnake nodded his head a couple of times before he started to make his way along the edge of the cliff again. The breeze blew his scent back to the scattering of cats that were around me. Honeyfeather, Dappledleaves, Morningstar, Jaycall, a scattering of Rattlesnake’s cats, like Cardinalsong, also hovering in the back of the group, like they weren’t quite sure what they were going to do or if we would let them talk with us.
It was hard to think that so much had changed since we had left the clans and that so much would change before too long.
Like the war that we would be facing in the future. The breeze of change was sweeping through all our lives. We would have exactly two years of peace. By then, many of our names would have changed and we would all have to face the reality that we weren’t even safe in the old twoleg-place nestled by the sea.
Seaside…. a simple name. The breeze blew through again and cats that weren’t Paranormal entered the town. Some were wary, others curious. And more Paranormals came as well, though not all of them entered the town.
One morning, a breeze brought in a skinny Normal she-cat, her eyes downcast, and Rattlesnake looked up in surprise. He’d actually just been about to leave the town for a few days, unaware that when he got back a moon later, the little town that had grown here would be a warzone.
“Hello?” he said. “Can I help you?”
Abernathy Fang, who some still called Adderfang, looked up from a fish that he had been eating. Both toms where sitting on the edge of an old fountain that made up the city center. Abernathy was the only one who was eating.
“Oh, uh, I’m Claire,” said the skinny she-cat. Her eyes darted between the tabby tom and the ex-ThunderClan warrior. “I’m looking for…Rattlesnake?”
Abernathy dropped half of his fish and pushed it in her direction. “Here.” He waved a tail in the direction of Rattlesnake and said, “And that’s him over there.”
The breeze shifted, letting the scent of the she-cat drift to Abernathy and Rattlesnake’s nose. Both of them could tell she had some sort of sickness, but only Rattlesnake could pin-point that it had something to do with the blood.
“How can I help you?” he asked, wondering if there was anything he could do to help her.
“I’m hoping you can help me find my brother. I heard that you can create small lights?”
He words were very direct and Rattlesnake found himself blinking in surprise. “Why, yes, I can. But what use would that ability be in finding your brother.”
It wasn’t really his most…advertised power. He wondered if she had heard it from one of his adopted kits…
“He’s lost in the tunnels. I’ve been looking for him, but I think he’s in the deep ones. I can’t navigate those without being able to see.”
Rattlesnake also got the sense that she might be afraid of the dark, even if ever so slightly.
He stood, leaving Abernathy to look at the untouched offering that he had given to Claire. “Alright. I can do my best. I take it you have a tunnel entrance in mind?”
Claire nodded and turned, thin legs moving to a sprint. Rattlesnake easily matched her pace until the entrance to the tunnels under Seaside came into view. They were rough, sea-swept things, but a cat could get lost in the deeper ones. Upon entering, he let small lights appear around him. These were mostly good for entertaining small kits, but they did offer a warm glow. They traveled deeper and the breeze followed with them, letting a crisp scent of salt and waves follow their steps.
Rattlesnake looked back at Claire only once, then he said in a quiet voice, “You and I both know that you didn’t bring me down here for your brother. What do you want?”
The she-cat was silent for a long time. Then she said, “There’s a war coming.”
“Not if I can help it,” responded the shape-shifter. “And that doesn’t answer the question. What do you want?”
“I want to fight,” she whispered.
Rattlesnake paused, turning is head around to look at her. The she-cat’s head was down looking at her paws.
“Ah,” said the tabby tom. “And why would you want to do that?”
The she-cat couldn’t dig her claws into the stone, but she wanted to. “The Normals killed my brother. He was one of Dream’s. He never did anything wrong, but he was just… just in the wrong place.”
Rattlesnake didn’t seem surprised to hear that she actually had a brother or that his mate had been somewhere in this tale. Instead, he flicked his ear and said, “Revenge. How ironic. If that’s what you were planning on asking me, then the answer is no. I neither want a fight nor do I want to drag a Normal kit into it.”
Claire’s fur stood on end, but she didn’t look up. “Yeah. Whatever. I thought you’d say that, but I just thought I’d let you know where my loyalty lay. You will see this kit,” she spat the word. “Again. Just know I’m not with them. I’m not with the Normals.”
“Duly noted,” said Rattlesnake dryly. If that was how this was going to go…
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Claire. But I think that it is time that you left. You have a life to live and I doubt it is here.”
The lights around him went out, as if blown by the still chilly breeze. But the breeze had brought Claire in and Rattlesnake would have no idea how much that breeze of change would rely on her in the future. She would not go down in history. The she-cat would not be remembered on that future field of memorial flowers. But she would be the one who would shape history. Claire Breeze would be the reason the war ended, and possibly the reason that it ended like it did…
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When You LeaveRattlesnake had left the town of Seaside for a sort of vacation. He needed to get away from the responsibilities and he needed to see his family again. It had been almost a year since he’d seen his adopted kits and his mate. H-he was fairly sure they had understood, but he still needed to see them for himself.
So, at dawn, he changed form, becoming an eagle and took off, aiming for the clans. That was the last place he had seen them, and it was likely that they had at least left some sort of clue on where they had gone.
His wings beat against the air, fighting against a wind that was trying to blow him off course. He didn’t know how long it would take for him to return to Seaside, but he was fairly sure everything wouldn’t fall apart before he got back. The normals were getting along okay with the paranormals and the risk seemed to have defused a little. Surely, he could spend a moon with his family before he needed to check up with them again.
It was several hours later that he landed on a tree branch of one of the trees just above ThunderClan camp. It was deserted now, and no cat went here. It was unlikely that Dream, Newsong, and the others were in the old camp, but there was a good likelihood that they had left a message for him there.
He changed into his cat form, landing with a thud on the hard-packed earth of the camp floor. Someone coughed and Rattlesnake flicked an ear. “Yessss?” he questioned, lengthening the ‘s’ sound.
“That you, Rattlesnake?” asked a voice and the striped tom turned to look at a small form huddled under a tree. He blinked a little, surprised to see one of his oldest warriors from his group. “Saltfeather!” he said, a pleased note in his voice as he recognized the tom.
The blue-grey cat with white streaks padded out of the shadows, their slime, streamlined body moving as gracefully as ever, even though they were getting on in age. “Long time no see,” he said in his high voice, which held varying notes of joy. Rattlesnake blinked an agreement. “I would have expected you to be with Dreadmoon and Dream. Does that mean they are still in the area?”
At the mention of Rattlesnake’s mate and one of the senior warriors, Saltfeather frowned. “Yes and no. This isn’t really a good place for paranormals, as you know,” there was no accusation in their voice, but Rattlesnake still flinched. “But some of them are hanging around. We figured we owe them to at least look out for the lake. We’re pretty good at keeping the badgers and foxes out, at least. Not like we ever tell them that it’s us…” He trailed off, shrugging.
“So, is that why you’re here?” asked Rattlesnake, meaning the ThunderClan camp. Saltfeather nodded.
“Where can I go to run into Dream?” Rattlesnake asked after a pregnant pause. It was the question he’d been dying to ask. Saltfeather seemed to think about this, his nose wrinkling a little as he searched his memories. “Try over by WindClan. He’s probably doing a patrol with Treetail and Inkeyes.”
Rattlesnake nodded, about to take off, but paused, claws digging into the earth. A year. It had been a year since he’d been with his family.
He rushed at Saltfeather, pressing his nose into his fur, breathing in his scent that he had missed so much. “I – I’m sorry it’s been so long. I promise you that I never wanted to leave.”
Saltfeather looked a little surprised, but laid their tail on Rattlesnake’s flank. “I know. We missed you too. Dream the most, of course.”
Rattlesnake didn’t want to ask. He dreaded the answer. “W-who…has anyone passed?” Not all of the cats in his group were paranormal, and even those that were could die. Saltfeather was already at the age of being an elder, having refused the Gift. Rattlesnake had been worried that he would return and that most of his family would be dead.
Saltfeather’s eyes grew sad. “Shorttail died of whitecough just after you left. Newsong couldn’t do anything to help and you know that tom never wanted to be paranormal. Dreammoon accepted the Gift, as you know, but they aren’t finding it easy and Icemask is getting old, we don’t think there’s much chance they will live past this year...” He paused and Rattlesnake tensed.
“Tora and Tawnsky died about four moons ago.” His words were quiet, like if they weren’t heard they wouldn’t hurt so much.
Rattlesnake looked down at his paws, though he wasn’t seeing them. The beautiful winged she-cat and the cat he had cursed… His muscles hurt, his head hurt.
…He should have never left. Or he should have visited sooner.
Saltfeather’s pelt brushed against him, as if they were trying to offer comfort by contact only.
Rattlesnake wanted to say that it helped, but it didn’t.
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A Red Song
The Paranormal Army started out with six Platoon Groups. Four out of those six included a mixed blood leader and all of them had at least one regular warrior who was. Carter Song was not the leader of Platoon Three, but he was pretty close once.
Carter Song, born Cardinal of Rattlesnake’s Group, oh so long ago, was by far the oddest looking of them. There was Morning Glory with her butterfly wings and Mocking Jay with her thunderous voice and icy paws, but Carter was very sure that he by far more noticeable than even the winged Paranormal.
In basic appearance, Carter was a white tom, with ears that were tufted with downy fur the consistency of fluff. His eyes were pink, almost red, and when Rattlesnake had first met him, the tabby tom had explained to the kitten that he was ‘albino’. Which Carter never really got the meaning of, but he guessed explained why his eyes were pink.
The similarities to normal cat ended there. From there, he had a set of gills on his neck and he moved with a grace that almost appeared like floating. Where some cats needed two Paranormal to make a mixed blood Paranormal, Carter had just needed to have actually been born with powers. Though the symptoms of mixed blood didn’t appear as quickly as they had for Tawny, they had still appeared. In fact, it took five years for Carter to realize that he could now breath under water, and that if he wasn’t careful, he could electrically shock someone. He needed to be in the water to do it, so that did mean it took a little longer, but still…
He’d yet to ‘snap’ as he heard some mixed blood Paranormals did. Carter wasn’t sure what that meant, but according to some second-paw stories, Mocking Jay had in the Battle of Twolegplace. What she had done wasn’t explained to him. Maybe they thought it would give him ideas.
In appearances, Carter looked like an apprentice. One that would soon be a warrior, but still an apprentice. He was, if he hadn’t lost count, almost ninety-six season old. Or twenty-four years…
That would also mean that the Feline War had been going on for almost two years now. In those two years, he never thought that he would have to lead a battle. The leader of Group Six was a regular Paranormal, but in the last battle a series of traps had been sprung on both him and his battle patrol. The one that had finally left him incapacitated was when the Normals had triggered about four good-sized boulders to fall on both him and his second in command.
So, now, here Carter was. They were going to try attacking on the beach this time, since he was keeping his powers in mind. His electrical one, breathing in the water, and…the other one. The one that made him ‘odd’.
Leaves stuck her head almost directly in his face as he turned the next corner and he flinched. “Well?” he asked quietly. “Where are they?”
The warrior stuck her head out further and Carter tried not to look at the set of scars that ran over her neck. Much like the scar on the back of Clarisa Fern of Group Two, it was a wound that should have killed a Normal cat. It nearly had killed Leaves and Carter didn’t really want to remember that particular battle.
“They aren’t expecting us, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, flicking her notched ear. “We should catch them completely by surprise.”
Good, Carter thought. He blinked a couple of times, then motioned with his tail for his patrol to start to move onto the beach. The soft shadowing of the cats moved under the fading light, ready for the last order, just to ‘attack’. Leaves followed them and the only one left was Carter. He took a few deep breaths, hoping that this wasn’t the battle that he ‘snapped’. Then he darted out into the open, racing for the lapping, calm waves that came into the beach. The Normals were camped not too far away and a cry went out as their look-out spotted the Paranormals.
“Go!” Carter called, still running just behind the stationed Paranormals. This wasn’t a full attack. Most of the warriors were injured from the last attack. This was more of a raiding party. But the albino warrior wanted to contribute something to all of this and as the Normals started to filter into view, his paws hit the water.
He dived into the waves, not caring if the current pulled him out to sea. He wasn’t worried. A sound, unheard by any ears but his own, issued from his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t to unlike a bird’s song, maybe that was why he was named after a red bird instead of because he had red eyes. Maybe he was named for this power.
He didn’t resurface until the first of them appeared. They were clear, hard to see, but slight lines of white outlined them for the Paranormal tom. He grinned a little. Maybe his mixed blood had meant to make him more like the jellyfish he could call. He was resistant to their sting, could more clearly see them than should be possible, and they seemed to listen to what he said. He’d been able to do this as long as he could remember, when he’d been living near the ocean, though he’d never found a use for it until now.
A set of teeth met his scruff, trying to pull his head out of the water. They dug in a lot harder than what was normal for a friend. Hard enough that Carter nearly screamed in pain. A Normal had ended up sneaking up behind him!
He bucked, trying to shake them off, but after so long, they knew what sort of moves worked against a Paranormal. Carter flinched, his body convulsing. Not from lack of air, but as an electric shocks ran through and out his body. It wasn’t enough to kill a Normal, but it would give them something to think about.
The teeth let him go and Carter pushed off from the bottom of the sea floor, his paws skidding a little on the sand. The Normal she-cat had backed away, shaking her head in pain. Another trill of song came from Carter’s mouth and the she-cat shrieked as another set of shocks went through her, this time from a jellyfish instead of Carter himself.
The Paranormal turned, bounding through the shallows before he could see what happened to her. He honestly didn’t want to.
Leaves and a Paranormal tom had pushed a set of Normals into the water. Carter jumped on the back of one, sending a series of small shocks down the tom’s spine. He flinched, feet giving way under him. The she-cat that he’d been fighting alongside of hissed, but was hesitant to engage Carter. One of the cats on Carter’s patrol lunged at her, pushing her deep enough into the waves so that that Carter could let out another trill of song while she was distracted.
The battle moved much like this. Carter dealt most damage to the Normals near the edge of the sea, but they soon learned that going near him or the sea was the same as dying. The battle was at a stand-still. The Paranormal’s safe near the water and the Normals finding an invisible line on the beach that they were safe behind. Both side didn’t cross that line, knowing that the other group would have the advantage if they crossed.
“Back to camp,” growled Carter after another couple of seconds. Another chunk of Leaves’ ear was missing and a bad clawmark ran over another she-cat’s eye. This wasn’t the best outcome for the raid, but it also wasn’t a loss.
The Paranormals walked along in the shallows, keeping a careful eye on the Normal counterparts. Their gaze also followed us, their teeth showing and ears back. One threw insults at us. But they let us go.
Once we were at a safe distance, Leaves turned to me and dipped her head, impressed. “I can see that that odd power of yours actually has some use, Cardinal. The Normals won’t be so quick to trust the water now.”
Carter wasn’t too sure if that was a good thing or not…
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The Invisible Line
The white tom killed my sister. I stood on the other side of the invisible wall, paws already having dug hollows in the sand.
Daniel kept his tail up, blocking my path to him. If I had ever doubted that the Paranormals were evil, I didn’t now. The white tom had left my sister in the shallow water, body floating there, after he had used…some strange power to kill her. He scared me. I wasn’t planning on running past Daniel, but that didn’t mean I didn’t shout a choked insult at the tom from where I stood. Safe. On the shore. We had the upper paw here, where the Paranormals couldn’t rely on whatever hid just under the water. But my sister hadn’t known that she was walking into a trap.
“He has mixed blood,” Daniel hissed to me, still keeping an eye on one of the Paranormal she-cats. A scratch on his cheek showed that he hadn’t escaped a scuffle with her uninjured.
“The white tom with…red eyes?” I asked, keeping my shoulder down.
“Yeah.”
My own eyes narrowed. Paranormals with mixed blood were priority one on Commander Heather’s list. They were the most dangerous in a battle and they were also the most unstable.
My paws dug into the ground again and I padded along the invisible line. The shore was the only safe place in this standstill. The Paranormals had started to move, walking in the shallows. They brushed past the body of Russel, Melody, and my sister without a second look and I glared at them. I couldn’t cross the line, however. That would break our safety. Daniel would jump to my aid, and from there, everything would be lost. I couldn’t leave the shore.
Then they were gone and the others crossed that line. Carefully at first, then once they were satisfied that the white tom was not returning to command the things hiding under the water, they went and collected the dead.
None of the Paranormals had died. That was usual for most battles, at least this far into the war. Both my mother and older brother had died in this Stars forsaken war. Now my sister as well. Daniel came up beside me, pressing his thin body against mine. I looked off into the distance, feeling like a drifting leave on that sea that was always within my view.
I didn’t have a safe shore to stand on any more than my sister had. I was trapped, fighting against a tide, but always with that shore in sight.
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The Crashing Waves
“How come we’ve never fought in the sea?” asked Claire. Her tail twitched as she looked the cliff’s edge. Below, waves crashed against the base of the cliff, sending another batch of water into the tunnel system. That was one of the reasons the small patrol of cats were now looking down at the beach. The encampment of Normals had also been forced to move thanks to the rising tide. At least it looked that way.
Abernathy shrugged and joined her in looking down at the crashing waves. “I heard something about an undertow running down there. We had a battle on the beach once, but the Normals make sure we don’t have that much of an advantage. Carter from Group Three has that odd power and all. They camp on the cliffs so we can’t usually choose that ground to fight on, just like they can’t surprise us in the tunnels.”
Claire flicked her tail at the waves again. “What about now? We don’t know for sure that there is an undertow. And that would be to our advantage anyway. Most of you are old enough to survive getting pulled out to sea. Normals, not so much.”
She was speaking from experience, of course. She wouldn’t be able to survive the waves, much less any existing undertow.
Abernathy shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.” He looked over at three other cats in their patrol. “Anyone know where the Normals are currently camping out?”
Two shook their heads, one even looked a little bored, and Abernathy scowled. The third hesitated, then said, “I think I heard that they were camped further up the cliffs, over that way.” She flicked her tail to indicate a direction further down the cost. Abernathy looked in that direction, biting his lip. He knew the layout pretty well, so was confident that he knew where the camp was. It was pretty well defended, if he was thinking of the right place. If you were coming by land.
However, if they really could come in using the sea, that would greatly help in possibly having a sneak attack.
“We can suggest it to Mocking Jay, see what she thinks.” He turned, padding back in the direction of the forest.
+++
When Claire and Abernathy made it back to their forest camp they were greeted by Clarisa Fern from Group Two.
“You’ve been transferred,” the scarred she-cat said, right off the bat.
Abernathy Fang blinked. “Um, okay. What?”
“Mocking Jay left on her own…personal mission. You and any other warriors have been transferred to Platoon Group Two. Acting Captain Morning Glory, as you know, is who you need to report to.”
Claire stepped out from behind Abernathy and noticed that Fern’s eyes seemed to hold a touch of surprise when she noticed that the she-cat was there. “Alright,” Claire said. “We hear you. We’ve been added to the ranks of Group Two and that means there are now only three Platoon Groups left.”
Abernathy flinched, but it was what we had all been thinking. Our army was shrinking. Slowly, but it was shrinking.
Fern seemed to look at Abernathy with an expression Claire didn’t understand. It wasn’t worry, so much as she seemed… heartbroken. “…Yes. That is basically it.”
Abernathy blinked, looking away from Fern. “Not now,” he muttered, seeming to be speaking about something that hadn’t been said verbally.
“Well,” said Claire, trying to move this conversation along. “I guess that means we need to speak with Morning Glory. We sort of came up with another battle plan.”
Fern looked at Claire for another couple of seconds, then nodded. “Alright. She’s over in the clearing, talking to Honey.”
Abernathy nodded as well, before he brushed past her. Claire followed, leaving the other three cats in their group to Clerisa.
+++
Abernathy padded along the edge of the cliff. They had had to leave Claire behind at camp, but Clarisa and Honey was following him as he headed for the cliff’s edge. A few other older Paranormals had come along as well, so there was a sizable number of fighters. Another group was going to head along the top of the cliffs and act as a distraction, even though Abernathy’s patrol was the main attacking force. They carefully lined up near the cliffs, looking down. This was the only way down to the water and the cats here were among the few who would survive both the drop and the possible undertow created by the tide.
Clarisa was technically leading this venture, even though Abernathy was of the same rank that she was. He waited for her order and looked off down the cliff’s edge. As the order was given, the tom stepped off the edge of the cliff. It was a long drop and he could feel the strain on his body as he hit the water. It felt like he’d hit the ground, not the water. Honey let out an audible squeal of pain. That wasn’t too much of a surprise, as she was a little younger than Abernathy, at least as a Paranormal.
He could feel the tide pulling at him and he was sure that Claire’s rumor about an undertow was probably correct. It didn’t worry him too much, as at this age, he could probably hold his breath for a very long time.
He drifted, following Clarisa and Honey, who looked like she was favoring one leg as she swam. Abernathy kept his head low as he swam, watching the edge of the cliff. Two cats didn’t judge the timing of a wave and the Paranormal tom flinched a little as they were battered against the side of the cliff. A few seconds later, they’d managed to make it back to the main patrol, though they both looked like they had broken a rib or two. Paranormals healed quickly, so Abernathy was confident that nothing that happened in this ocean would cause permanent harm. That was, of course, if more damage wasn’t dealt. Which it would be, as they would soon be facing a much larger army than their own.
He felt a swift tug near his paddling feet and started to put a little more force into his movements. The patrol where being tugged away from the cliffs, pulled out to sea, just as Claire had predicted. Clarisa hissed in annoyance as she was pulled underwater for a couple of seconds, only to reappear several fox’s lengths away and to the left.
Honey whimpered a little and tried to move faster in the direction of the Normal camp, which was just barely in view half-way up one of the larger cliffs. It was nestled in a dip, small boulders guarding it from the wind, but also offering a good position for look-outs.
“Don’t panic,” Abernathy hissed at her as he was tugged further away. “Fighting it will only weaken you, and you have to remember that even though you are stronger than a Normal, you can still drown.”
He still continued to paddle his feet, but didn’t try to aim for the cliff. Instead, he moved as if to follow the cost. This seemed to make more progress than outright fighting the hidden undercurrent was.
Clarisa was already almost four treelengths behind and to his right, still getting dragged further out. The rest of the patrol was either just as far out or fighting like Honey was. Abernathy sighed, but there wasn’t anything that he could do. He was pulled under for a couple of seconds as the undertow caught at him again, but he didn’t hiss like Clarisa had. Instead, he just held his breath and continued the same movement he had been making before, following the cost instead of trying to fight it. When his head broke the water again, his paws didn’t reach so much resistance and he could see that the Paranormals back on shore had already made their move. A mass of cats where fighting around the boulders, lithe shapes launching themselves at one enough. The shape of Morning Glory was pronounced as she launched herself upward, butterfly wings beating at the air as she tried to shake off a Normals hold.
He felt his paws scrape against something and he realized that some of the tumbled boulders rested in this slight carved out area of the cliff. The waves pulled his back, away from the rock again, and he used that time to look back at the rest of his patrol. Honey was almost behind him, and a few of the others had also started to get close. Clarisa was the furthest away, but she was no longer the distant dot she had been. Abernathy’s claws hooked into the trailing edge of one of the sea plants that was using the rock to grow as another pounding wave throe him in that direction and he shook out his fur as he pulled himself up. Honey pulled herself up after him after a couple of seconds and Abernathy grinned as he dove back into the water on the other side of the rock.
After the patrol escaped the undertow, the rest was easy. The battle was long and hard, but it was a battle that they won. There was very few of those battles left.
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A Symbol of Loss“Claire Breezeborn, why is a Normal in my army?” Rattlesnake had returned to Seaside near the end of a battle, diving from the sky in the shape of a large eagle only to land on the back of a white, normal she-cat in his tabby cat form. The battle had been furious and Rattlesnake’s abilities had shocked the Normals, who hadn’t realized the shape-shifter still stood by the Paranormals. When it had ended and the three remaining Platoons of Paranormals had returned to their makeshift camp in the woods, Rattlesnake had turned on Claire, fur bristling.
“I told you that kits had no place here. Didn’t you know I didn’t want you involved?”
The skinny she-cat didn’t even blink as the long-tailed tom ranted at her. “I said I’d be on this side, sir. I’ve worked hard for the position that I have.”
“But you shouldn’t be here!” he hissed. “You should be out there. Out there having a family – “
“And dying for it in this battle?” she asked, eyebrows raising. “On the other side, no less? I don’t think I want that, sir.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Around them, cats moved as if walking through brambles. They didn’t want to interrupt, so they just pretended that it wasn’t happening.
Rattlesnake’s eye wandered around the cats, all who bore scars. He didn’t see some faces, some he knew were died. “This war wasn’t supposed to happen,” he whispered.
“But it did,” said Claire. “It needed too.”
Rattlesnake looked at her as if she was mad. “No war needs to happen. Especially this one. I – I think that I need to talk to the leader of the Normals. Peace talks or something. There has to be a way to end this.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed. “Says the tom who left us. There is only one way to end this, and you know it.”
“No,” said Rattlesnake. “I don’t. And I know even less when you were suddenly included in that ‘we.’”
Just then, Abernathy stepped through the make-shift camp entrance. His eyes fell on Rattlesnake and he bounded forward, interrupting.
“Mocking Jay went back to the clans to look for you. Where have you been?”
Rattlesnake seemed a little surprised. “She did?” His face fell. He would have to find her. It was even more dangerous back there than it was here. But first he had to deal with what was happening between the Normals and Paranormals.
“I’m leaving. I’ll try and be back by sunhigh.”
His form melted away, leaving in his place a large sea-gull. It took wing a few seconds later, leaving Claire and Abernathy to look after him. Claire’s eyes were narrowed.
--
The sea gull flew through the dawn sky, wings beating against the air. That was the last any Paranormal of Seaside saw of Rattlesnake. Most thought that he had died, if they were unaware of him immortality. Others just thought he was just as good as died. Either way, he never returned to the Paranormals and the Normals claimed they never saw him anywhere near their camp.
To Claire, and her descendants, the sea gulls became a symbol of a coward and abandonment. To the Paranormals, one of loss. Rattlesnake might have changed things, if only a little, they said, but the next battle would be the last and most deadly. Afterwards, everyone started saying that somehow, Rattlesnake was dead, that he had died in the war before Toxic Valley. It was easier saying that than the truth…
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Born to War
Coral was born during the Feline War. She was almost grown when Toxic Valley was fought. Though she wasn’t a warrior, she was still at the battle and it was all she could do not to be sick as she watched the carnage. Huddled in the bushes a good three tree-lengths away from the last pair of fighting cats, she watched as the leader of the last group of Paranormal was pulled from the sky.
She had to close her eyes.
Not all the Paranormals were killed in the last battle, that she knew. A she-cat, tail between her legs, ran almost directly over her as she escaped. Coral flinched back, golden amber eyes wide as she saw the series of old scars running over her throat. Those were from an older battle, but new wounds also covered her pelt. Their eyes met, but the she-cat didn’t slow. She knew that everything was lost.
Coral turned back to watch, fur flat against her side. Her ears were back, monitoring the she-cat’s progress to make sure that she wasn’t going to change her mind. It was nearly over. Her side was winning, as she had expected. This was the Paranormal’s last stand, after all. But she couldn’t help thinking that war was the worst thing in existence. Nothing could justify what she was seeing.
“Stars have mercy on us,” she whispered, closing her eyes again. She was too young to fight, but not so young that she didn’t want to save her family. Her father had already died in this war, as had so many other fathers. She didn’t want any more death.
As the last, dying light left the sky, Coral closed her eyes again. Beautiful. The sunset was beautiful, but it still showed every single body on the red, red grass.
Sometimes other cats would wonder why she was called Coral. She had amber eyes and a pale cream pelt. Nothing very coral-like about her, apart from the fact that she had been born by the sea. But she was sure it had more to do with her origin than her pelt color. Coral was something beautiful made up of the dead bodies of small sea creatures. Wasn’t that fitting for a cat born into war.
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Toxic Valley
There was blood.
Corporal Morningglory’s eyes darted left and right, her temporary safe place on the hill in danger from a tom streaking up its side in a blood red and tabby flash.
This was the paranormal’s last chance in the Toxic War and they were failing. Failing against normals.
She plunged back into the fray with a wail of despair. Cats that should be worshiping them, were inferior to them, were winning by sheer number and strategy.
Morningglory spun to face the new enemy who even had the time and the gull to mock her before she plunged her claws into his throat, “Where’s your famous powers now?” he chuckled with his last breath. Blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth and the light in his green eyes fading to a glassy sheen.
But the worst part was his mocking grin that seemed to say, Even if you kill us all it won’t make a difference.
Morningglory was soaked in an unknown tom’s blood and the loss of paranormal life was only growing. She witnessed another battlemate fall under the sheer mass of bodies before she could reach her unnamed cohort. Morningglory had barely enough time to flee from her ally’s killers before they pounced on her as well.
What good is a long life, glowing eyes and an extra long tail on the battlefield? Morningglory wailed silently as her tail was pulled by a cat as streaked in gore as she, so much so, it was hard to tell whether they were friend or foe.
Morningglory slipped on the blood pooling in a valley between two small hills. The moor that was the battlefield for this branch of the Toxic War was full of screaming cats. The lieutenant of the paranormals, a mixed blood white she-cat called Everstar, was commanding what little was left of her army from the air. Unreachable by normals because of the buzzing pair of bumblebee wings on her back.
Morningglory wished with all her heart right then that she could have been made a mixed blood paranormal, even if she could become insane at anytime, because she could have used the added bonus of wings or shape shifting or anything that could help her live through this day.
She tried to help a struggling younger paranormal, his paws slipping on the red grass and his eyes burning coals in his head that showed just how afraid he was of dying. She reared at his larger opponent who had scarred ears and the small paranormal tom, who had been attacked, ran away with his long tail between his legs.
Morningglory thought she might have a chance, but it was dashed when she found out her opponent was faster then her, getting under her guard easily and raking her belly with stone sharp claws. Morningglory screeched with the fiery pain that coursed up and down her pelt.
Morningglory was facing sure death, her attacker’s claws at her throat; her immediate death only prolonged because he couldn’t get a grip on her blood slick neck. Then a shadow fell over the two grappling cats.
Everstar’s wings hit Morningglory’s would be killer square in the head, knocking him back. He tried to struggle to his feet only to have Everstar paws pound him into the turf.
Everstar’s claws were digging into his fur, her eyes blazing a fiery red, and she bent her head to deliver the killing bite. The cat screeched something that only Morningglory heard, but by then she was too late to warn Everstar.
Lieutenant Everstar, lifted her blood soaked lips from the cat’s neck, his glassy eyes staring up at the evening sky, unseeing.
“What did the cat say?” she asked, her voice low, and Morningglory barely heard it over the screams from the battle, or maybe it was the pounding of her own heart.
“He said,” whispered Morningglory, Everstar had to lean in closer, blood dripping from her muzzle, just to hear her horror filled words.
“He said not to kill him, that he didn’t know he was attacking another paranormal, because of all the blood. He said he was Second Lieutenant Feverfew of the paranormals. You’re second in command.”
Cast of Characters:Corporal Gracie Morningglory: a brown tabby she-cat with green eyes
Lieutenant Magnolia Everstar: a white she-cat with very pale amber eyes
Second Lieutenant Gregory Feverfew: a gray tom with scarred ears
Rank:
(lowest to highest)
Corporal
Second Lieutenant
Lieutenant
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No More
Five kits were born to a normal in the early years of the war. This was in the time when they all believed that it would not last for very much longer and that peace could still be reached. That somehow, the battles would stop.
The first kit was named for the color of the sea. Her eyes were a deep green in her young adult years and her claws swift.
She died on her second battle.
The second was a healer, having no desire to fight. He was named for the storm clouds on the horizon, named for more power than he ever wanted. He helped many cats, healed them only to watch them head out to war again.
After Toxic Valley, he disappeared. Everyone thought him dead.
The third ran away, never to be seen again. She was named for the bright light of sun that peeked through the clouds on that day of her birth. Her mother was always proud of her abilities and would often praise her.
Until the day she turned tail and ran from an albino cat with red eyes…
The fourth considered herself nothing important. Her fur was as white as Seafoam, which she was named for. Her skills were below the usual, which simply meant that she could not fight with her claws as well as her brain.
She was the one who killed the albino paranormal, but she was killed in the prosses.
The last, and fifth, was named for a sea creature with five arms. Seastar… A name akin to those of the clans of old, which her mother believed would keep her safe. Her mother saw her as the cat that brought all her siblings together, as a whole. But in the end, she was the only one to stand by her mother in her last moments.
The valley was covered with the blood of Paranormal and Normal alike and it was impossible, in this light, to tell the difference between the two. Heather, leader of the Normal, was taking her last breath. A sandy colored she-cat sat over her, her shoulders hunched and head down. Blood dripped from one ear and a slash across her flank, but compared to her mother’s injury it was minimal damage.
“I…sorry,” were the only words that fell from Heather’s lips. She was having difficulty speaking.
“N-no,” stuttered Seastar. “Don’t talk. Mother, don’t talk.”
Her eyes darted around, making sure that none of the bodies near her moved. Cats picked their way around in the distance, all of them Normal, but other than them, it was just her and Heather. But Paranormals were hard to kill and it was a constant worry that one of them wasn’t as dead as they appeared.
Heather’s tail moved a little to touch her daughter’s flank. “N-no more,” she said. “I- I want Thunderhead to be the l-last.”
She was talking about Seastar’s brother. The one she had seen disappear just before the Paranormal fell on the waiting warriors. She hadn’t the heart to tell her mother that he had run away just like his sister. It was better that she thought he was gone. Dead.
“No, shhh. Please don’t speak. We aren’t done yet. There are still more out there. Clarisa Fern, Leaves, all of them. Some escaped. It isn’t over.”
Heather’s eyes, though starting to glaze over, narrowed. “No. This is the la-last child I will lose. It ends, Seastar. No more.”
Seastar pressed her paw to her mother’s throat. The bleeding continued, despite her useless efforts.
She wasn’t sure what to say. Was more life really worth losing to hunt down so few survivors? Rattlesnake was gone and on one else that they knew of could continue the sickness. All of the Mixed Blood ones were dead…
Maybe it was time to end this Stars forsaken war.
“No more,” breathed out Heather, as if agreeing with her thoughts. Eyes glazed over further, last breath escaping her lips and body growing still.
Seastar took her paw away, looking around.
Let it end with her mother. When only one leg of a starfish remained, was it still possible for it to live? Seastar seemed to remember something about it just growing a new body. Could that happen here? Could they grow here, in this blood-soaked town, like the Paranormals used to?
“No more…”
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White Like Seafoam
White like the pre-dawn light, red like blood
White like the albino’s fur, red like blood
White like Seafoam, red like blood
That’s what Thunderhead remembered as he walked along, stumbling pawsteps, head low, almost running into trees as he went.
His sister, body coiled around his, jaws parted in a snarl, claws in his neck. The red-eyed cat, fur tinged pink from the blood, with his muzzle buried in her chest. Milky, white eyes looking at nothing.
Thunderhead shook himself, ricocheting off a bush, fur getting tangled up in it. Suddenly, he froze, hearing the sound of paws from behind him. He turned, fur on end. “Seastar?” he asked hesitantly and a she-cat, but not his sister, walked out from behind a tree.
“No,” she said coldly. “My name is Claire.”
Thunderhead’s ears tilted back, but he was hesitant. He was trying to place the name. “Who?” he asked.
Claire stepped forward and Thunderhead noticed her claws were unsheathed. “Let me help you remember. I’m the one Normal who could actually see that you, all of you other Normals, were dead wrong to start a war.” The she-cat lunged forward and the tom stumbled backward.
He wasn’t a fighter, he was no warrior, but Stars he tried to be…
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Island Prisoner
I grew up on stories about how my father died. I was orphaned at six moons, my last living parent dying to winter greencough. That’s all that they have ever told me about my mother. But oh, my father. They sing his name, chant his name into my ear. I am not allowed to forget how he suffered. I am not allowed to forget how to hate.
I am the last kit born to a full blooded RiverClan cat. We are still called RiverClan, but our names and customs have withered away. I was raised by a she-cat called Willa Cloud. That is how are names are going. We are slowly fading into the customs of the bordering wildcats. Once, five or six years ago, she might have been called Willowcloud.
My father died in the Feline War. The Toxic War. I am never allowed to question his motives for fighting or who it is that is now kept on the island in the center of the lake.
Toxic. Questions are poison, like the sickness that the paranormals bring. I hear that word ‘paranormal’ whispered. I asked once, and Willa looked at me with real fear in her eyes. She couldn’t tell me, something in her memories stopping her.
So, I am quiet with my questions. I want to know more beyond the stories that the elders whisper in my ears. I want to know more about the war that my father fought in, back when I hadn’t even opened my eyes.
“Who is the prisoner on the island?” I ask an older apprentice, quiet and out of earshot of Willa and his mother. His eyes widen and looks around, but in muttered words he says, “We don’t talk about him.”
“Why is he a prisoner,” I ask, hoping I can get away with another question.
“Because,” he says, backing away as he looks over at his mother. He doesn’t want to get into trouble. “Because no one can kill him.”
My small claws dig into the soft grass as I hold in a dozen more questions. Why can’t they answer me? How can all of them know but me?
But not all of them do know about the prisoner or the Toxic War. Other young apprentices and kits secretly ask questions, just like I do. If they ask the wrong warrior, they are chastised. But some, some feel we have a right to know.
“Come closer, Kindred,” an elder says to me one day. That’s me. The ex-rogues and loners often call us by only the first half of our name. Is it any wonder that this is hardly a clan anymore? The apprentices are trained by all, for another example, not a single mentor.
I only know how it used to be thanks to Willa Cloud.
I step closer to the old cat, ears held high. He leans forward and whispers to me, “You are a curious young she-cat, aren’t you? I hear you asking about the prisoner on the island. Why are you so interested?”
My fur prickles. Am I about to be yelled at? It had happened before and I felt my body preparing for it.
“I want to know why my father had to die,” I answer honestly.
The elder’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look like he is about to berate me. “He died because of the cat on the island,” he answered. “That is the cat who caused the Feline War. Kept there, on that island, because he was betrayed by his own kind. The only cat who could trap him was the only cat that could free him.”
“What happened to that cat?” I breathed, already knowing the answer.
The elder grinned, and I can’t say I liked it. “We killed her. The freak and her frost covered paws.”
I couldn’t help it. I backed up. War is a horrid thing. Cats die. I told myself that. But I don’t think I could believe the reassurance.
***
I was a warrior by the time I finally got to meet the island prisoner. By that time, most of the holes in my father’s story had been filled. All but one. Why?
Why had this cat started a war?
“He doesn’t eat or sleep,” they whispered in my ear. “He needs no guards and nothing he shouts to the skies can be heard by anything but the birds. His poisoned words can’t touch us.”
But I still left and they didn’t try to stop me, beyond the warnings that were shouted to my back. I’d gained a reputation for being rebellious and by StarClan and the shadows, I wasn’t going to lose that now. Because it got me things. Answers and in some cases, much needed silence.
I think that what was left of RiverClan thought I would never return. And maybe I wouldn’t, no matter if this prisoner gave me answers or not.
I padded around the territory first, even though the quickest way to swim to the island was within our borders. The tree that had once crossed to the island had been removed long before I was kitted. That’s an interesting story to tell, by the way. Maybe I’ll tell it, if I ever learn the full thing.
I walked. WindClan is still there, though even more rag-tag and rogue-like than we are. ShadowClan keeps to themselves, but I think that they must have held on better to the old ways than we have.
ThunderClan… The silent forest. The quiet skies.
Nothing remains of them. The prisoner on the island, I was told, hit them and WindClan the hardest. WindClan escaped, only to return a year later to take back their home. But ThunderClan was lost, almost every single warrior.
As I look out at the quiet woods, only full of the sounds of birds and wildlife, my fur bristles. I sniff the air, trying to catch a scent that probably no longer exists anywhere in this world. How could a single cat cause so much damage?
The whispers return, of my clanmates, even though they aren’t around me anymore.
“He can take any form, from a dog to an eagle. Nothing can kill him, neither claws nor the worst sickness.”
I snort. They make him sound more powerful than even StarClan. Their stories have blown him up into a demon or god.
I continue to walk until the sky is gray and I rest for the night, unwilling to face this ‘monster’ at night. I like to see what I’m going to try and talk to.
***
The next morning, I swim to the island. Even before I get there, I see the several inches of frost that is laid on the pebbly shore. My paws stop as they hit the shallows.
I heed one warning from my clanmates. Don’t cross the border. Cross the border and you are never allowed back over. I wonder if that meant that others are on this island or if only their skeletons remain. I shudder at the thought.
“Hello!” I call out into the bushes and trees. “Hello, Prisoner! Can you hear me?”
No response and I open my mouth to yowl again, when someone steps out of the bushes.
Why my clanmates thought this tom was a monster, I do not understand. He is slightly small for his apparent age. Tabby stripes cross his body and amber eyes consider my blue with deep confusion. He steps fully out onto the pebble covered beach and the only thing that stands out to me is that his tail is almost as long as he is. Two cat lengths instead of the usual one. I also notice that he doesn’t touch the line of frost.
“Who are you?” he asks.
I stand a little taller. “I’m called Kindred,” I say, deciding to use only use the first part of my name to show that I didn’t want answers as a RiverClan cat.
He blinks. “Is that all?” He looks like he’s about to turn around again and I take a step forward, one wet paw now almost touching the line of frost. His tail twitches, I notice, and I’m careful not to touch the line.
“I want to talk to you,” I say. “I wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”
He twitches his ear now, as if to signal that he is listening. I wish he would say something. This seems so one-sided, when I’m the one looking for answers, but I’m the one who is talking.
“Why?” I finally ask, looking at the line of frost and not meeting his amber eyes.
He seems to know what I’m talking about anyway. “To save my family.”
I look up. Such a simple answer, yet it answers everything and nothing. “You have a family?” I asked, mouth falling open. Even in all those whispers, my clanmates had never told me that the Prisoner had had something so…mortal… as a family.
The Prisoner dipped his head, eyes sparkling with a touch of amusement at my shock. “I had a mate and kits. Many friends. A whole clan. You are asking such a big question, Kindred. But I feel you know so little. Like you are trying to piece together a puzzle that no cat holds all the pieces to.”
I took another step forward. That was a statement I knew so well. Cat after cat had said it to me back at RiverClan, right before they walked away.
My paw was on the line and right then and there I knew that this search for information had grown into an obsession. An unhealthy obsession that had already caused me to ignore all the rules.
The Prisoner’s ears were laid back as he eyed my paws. “Back up,” he said in a quiet voice. Fear. I could hear fear in his voice. He was scared, but of what? Of my actions?
They called this cat a starter of wars? It seemed so ridiculous.
“Not until I get answers,” I said. My eyes narrowed as they met his, and he seemed to give in and sit down.
Good, I thought. “What is your name?” I asked, after another lengthy second.
He seemed surprised, but answered easily enough. “Rattlesnake. Named for the stripes, I like to say. Why? Why that question first?”
“Because,” I said, closing my eyes. “All I wanted in the beginning was to know why my father had to die. Why my clan is dying, even if they don’t realize it. And I wanted to know the name of the cat who caused it.”
I opened my eyes again and saw real pain in the Pris – Rattlesnake’s eyes. “I see,” he said careful.
“How did you start the war?” I asked, voice quiet again.
“I loved,” was his next cryptic and short answer. I glared at him and he finally added. “My clan was dying and we needed territory. I had a plan that would not cause casualties on either side and benefit the whole. My plan went wrong, cats died, and all four clans saw us as either allies or enemies. The ones, like myself and many of my older warriors, had powers.” He waved a tail at the frost line.
“Sometimes accidents happened and slowly, what little ground I had gained in uniting us all crumbled away. Our two factions broke into war. I made…mistakes. We all did. Those who were on the losing side were killed,” once again he nodded at the frost line, “and the ones who couldn’t be killed were kept prisoner or made to go into hiding. And thus, here I am.”
He shrugged his shoulders, as if that was just how the world worked. My pelt prickled. What he was saying… while some parts were so deeply summarize I could hardly tell what point in time he was talking about, other parts showed a clarity to my clanmates whispers.
“And the sickness?” I asked, in almost a whisper.
He paused in any movement he’d been making, even breathing. He frowned, then slowly, he took a breath.
“The sickness will never happen again. The secrets to it will be buried with me.”
“But you can’t be buried,” I snapped. This cat was old, I could tell, from his ears to his eyes to his memory itself. If there was one thing I now believed about my clanmate’s stories, it was that this cat truly was immortal.
Rattlesnake stood, the pebbles shifting under him. “Very true,” he agreed. “But don’t you think this island is a suitable living grave?”
He turned, as if to walk away, and I leaned forward without realizing, ready to chase after him over the frozen line. I needed answers.
But something caught me under my throat. For one horrifying second, I thought Rattlesnake was attacking me, that I had crossed the line and broken whatever safety I had.
But then my brain caught up and I saw that what was under my chin was, in fact, his tail. He wasn’t looking around or at me, but I cast a look down and noticed my paws were still on the line.
But his tail wasn’t. Its tip flicked just over it, on my side. I caught my breath, both afraid and confused.
“After the guards are gone, are you really a prisoner?” muttered Rattlesnake, still not looking at me. “The answer, Kindred, is yes. You are a prisoner after the castle crumbles and the bars fall away, because as long as there are bars inside your head, the prisoner may walk beneath the sun, yet still see the world through a cage.”
He dropped his tail away and snapped around, demeanor changing. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you. But I have to say that it is best you go now. And that you do not return. The frost line may not be broken by a Normal without consequence. I really wouldn’t like to have you keep me company in here, just because you couldn’t leave.” He paused.
The best I could do was splutter. I hadn’t understood whatever that mantra was about ‘castles’ and ‘cages’, but I got enough of it to understand that he was a prisoner here of his own free will.
“Wh-why doesn’t the frost work?”
He tilted his head. “It does. Just as more time passes, it loses more power. Countless seasons of its weakness,” he nodded at the sun overhead. “Will do that even to frost created by powers. At this point, its functions are wearing thin at keeping me in and you out, but if one or the other of us fully crossed the border it would still cause a lot of pain.”
He flicked his tail. “Now. Leave, Kindred. I can’t answer any more questions. I don’t know as much about the different stories as other.”
I took a step back, by hind-paws hitting the water. I hadn’t given up. But I think, now, it wasn’t for a need to know about someone I never even met. It wasn’t for my father. It was for me, and a desire to know the Prisoner of the Island’s story.
“Who can I ask?” My eyes were narrowed, sensing a trick or a test.
It seemed my suspicions were true, as Rattlesnake smirked as he stepped back into the bushes.
“Try finding my family! Or possibly ThunderClan. Talk to Greenfern, or Dream, or Kite. Answers are out there, Kindred. Puzzles are hard, but they are never impossible. Even though you might have to remake a few missing pieces yourself.”
He winked, and then stepped out of my view. Part of me wanted to cross that line of frost. To get all my answers from this immortal tom.
But something stopped me. I can’t believe one side or the other. I can’t trust the words of the winners or the losers. Neither the voice of the Prisoner or the whispers of my clanmates will always speak true.
I’ll take the answers that make the most sense. That rings the truest. Then I’ll start telling my story and those who want to collect my words can. That’s just how my stories always went.
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I Survived
If anyone saw this clearing in the woods from above they would believe it to be a meadow.
The mix of pine and oak trees tower along the far end of the clearing and they cast long shadows before them when the sun is high. But this no meadow and I sit here at dawn, not sunhigh. I sit, I watch, I see. I have been sitting here since the sun first crested the distant trees behind me. Their shadows do not touch the flowers that are scattered a few pawsteps in front of me. Only my shadow falls on them as it stretched long from the cast of the sunlight.
This ‘meadow’ was, in fact, only a thick covering of picked flowers. They ranged in all colors and sizes. They had been blown around a little by an easterly wind.
I stared out at the few cats that placed careful pawsteps around the flowers. Some carried a mouthful of the plants to add to the ones already here, others simply wandered, as if lost.
I was the only cat not out in the meadow. I gazed blankly out, taking in the sights, putting them away in the back of my mind. But I was not exactly ‘here’. My brain was on a point far in the past.
These flowers were left in memory for the battle that had taken place here. They rest forlornly, alone, away from the groups of cats and townships. And yet, cats kept coming, remembering the grandfather who had passed away on this land. Did they even realize that their grandfather probably wished that this place had never existed? Much less that it had been immortalized in the eyes of the next generation.
The closest cat moved off in a new direction and I became distracted and numb. Simply letting my eyes wonder along the path they walked. Because of this I did not hear the approaching pawsteps of the two cats behind me.
“Did you fight in the war, miss?” asked a squeaky kit voice from behind me. If I still held any fear for the living I might have flinched at the sudden noise. I held no fear.
Out of the corner of my eye (as I didn’t turn around) I saw a she-cat, probably the mother, holding an orange flower about the size of my paw. It had black tiger stripes. A tiger-lily.
The she-cat herself was covered in stripes and was a similar color to the flower she held in her mouth.
My view also included a puffball which must have been the kit who had spoken. He looked much like his mother.
How did the young ones always know?
The adults always looked surprised when one of their offspring exclaimed that I looked like I had fought in the war.
‘No, no,’ they would say. ‘She’s much too young to have fought.’
‘That war was seasons and seasons ago,’ they said. ‘Even I wasn’t alive then.’
But the young ones always knew better. They could see in the set of my shoulders, in the way I froze at the words, and the scattering of old scars along my body. They overlooked my age.
Even if the kits had only just heard of that terrible battle, somehow they just knew.
But this she-cat could not scold her son for speaking. Her mouth was to full of the tiger-lily.
All she could do was lay her tail on her son’s shoulder as if saying ‘wait’.
I slowly turned my head to look at these two head on. The she-cat must have seen it in my eyes. The kit even took a step back. Those eyes. My eyes. So worn and old, even older then this she-cats great-grandfather’s. The eyes that had seen blood, suffering…and death. Oh, so much death. Those eyes whose age did not match that of my body’s.
So, I tell them? Tell them the truth? That the war had been fought right under their paws had been for nothing? That the cats that their ancestors had tried to whip out still existed? That the battle meant nothing because it was a war started in hatred for cats that were different?
I told them nothing of this. I just turned back to gaze at the meadow and I told the kit what his mother wished to hear:
“I fought in none of your wars, child.”
No, I thought as they walked away, still shaken. Your cats fought to wipe mine from existence. I didn’t fight. I survived.
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