Post by WhispersintheMist on Mar 30, 2018 11:22:36 GMT -5
A clump of ferns sprouting at the base of a tall pine quivered in the still air. Brightspark froze, her leaf-green eyes focused on the shadowy gap among the stems, which revealed a smudge of soft gray. Nothing except the tenseness of her muscles, coiled to spring at a moment’s notice, and the gleam in her eyes, narrowed with determination, betrayed her interest.
She gently lowered her lean body into a crouch and softly crept forward, putting one snowy-white paw in front of the other, one at a time with painstaking slowness. The scents of dead, frost-sharpened needles and the sharp, strong tang of pine sap released into the cold, crisp air were all ignored as she concentrated on the one warm, mouth-watering scent that mattered: mouse!
Brightspark hadn't tasted mouse since she'd left ThunderClan after her mother had joined StarClan seven moons ago. Her father, Brackenclaw, hadn't exactly given her the warm welcome she'd been expecting. He had been harsh and abusive, refusing to recognize that she, daughter of Pebbletail, sister of the late Flamekit, was his daughter also. His attention was centered on his ShadowClan mate, Swiftshadow.
Now Brackenclaw was dead. His last moments had been spent writhing in agony as the hissing adder coiled at his paws slid away, leaving two fang marks in his victim's smooth ginger tabby pelt. Since then, Brightspark had always felt consumed with guilt: an unpleasant sensation that left a hard pebble in her stomach and a bitter taste on her tongue, which turned even the juiciest piece of fresh-kill to dust in her mouth.
The rest of the border patrol she and her father had joined was out of sight and hearing. She had been the only one who saw the adder watching her father in the shadow of a boulder. She had been the one who didn't warn him as his paws strayed dangerously closer to the swaying reptile's body. She had been the one watching, frozen with horror, as the adder struck, sinking its fangs into Brackenclaw's foreleg, and then slinking away, forked tongue flickering a warning. She had stared, unresponsive, at her father as he writhed in agony, amber eyes which had always been so hard and cold as they glared at her now wide with fear and pleading, quickly clouding over as death crept in and stole over him, lifting his spirit to the stars. And what had she done? She had done nothing. Brightspark had indirectly caused her father's death.
Brightspark mentally pushed away the memories of her stumbling away from Brackenclaw's body and meeting up the patrol, the memory of them coming across him, limbs twisted into unnatural positions, exclaiming with horror. She struggled to ignore the vision of seeing Swiftshadow's eyes, half-lidded eyes, always so disinterested in what her stepdaughter had to say, widening with shock at the news of her mate’s death, letting out a wild, despairing yowl that was flung up from the very depths of her heart, embodied with the overwhelming pain that had crashed over her so suddenly. Stop it! She scolded herself. I’m here, in ShadowClan territory right now, stalking a mouse. Which will get away if I keep revelling in dark memories.
Brightspark suddenly felt an irresistible longing spark inside her and sear her insides, of fear and pain and anger, tearing to be let out on someone, something. She felt the power flexing in her haunches and pounced, slamming her paws down on her prey, abruptly cutting off its shriek of terror with a sharp nip to the neck. She felt the mouse’s tiny heart flutter wildly beneath her pawtips, slowly weakening until, with a last faint, throbbing beat, it died out all together. She regarded it with eyes bright with triumph, her tongue swiping a bead of blood off her muzzle.
How did a mouse get so far into ShadowClan territory? The prey must be from StarClan, surely. Thank you, Pebbletail, she said silently, leaning down and grasping the still-warm mouse’s scruff and turning around to come back the way she’d come from. “Great StarClan, I’m supposed to be on a patrol!” she hissed aloud. She had been ordered to go out with Reedwhisker and catch some decent prey. By decent they probably mean frogs, lizards, and newts, she thought, wrinkling her nose. After seven moons she still hadn’t gotten used to ShadowClan’s slimy, scaled prey, yellow-bellied prey, and was certain she never would. Doubtless StarClan sent this mouse to her to give her a taste of her old, beloved forest home.
Brightspark felt the tingling glow of love warm her heart and temporarily wash away the bitterness choking it as she thought of her mother. Pebbletail, the only one who had truly loved her, who had made her feel special in the midst of ThunderClan’s hostility. When she caught greencough and joined StarClan that blustery leaf-bare day, Brightspark had known that it was time to move on. ShadowClan, in truth, wasn’t much better than her old home, but Brightspark had vowed to find her place there, and she would.
“Reedwhisker! Where in StarClan’s name are you?” she called, dropping the mouse at her paws. Her commanding meow carried on the frosty air, fading into silence. Brightspark ventured a few hesitant steps, her ears straining for any answering mew from the undersized black tom, then plunked down with a sigh. She would clean the mud off her paws while she waited for him to find her, and listen to the eerie song of the wind gushing through the trees and rattling the pine branches, so unlike the soothing whisper of rustling leaves she heard when the wind blew in her old forest home.
She gently lowered her lean body into a crouch and softly crept forward, putting one snowy-white paw in front of the other, one at a time with painstaking slowness. The scents of dead, frost-sharpened needles and the sharp, strong tang of pine sap released into the cold, crisp air were all ignored as she concentrated on the one warm, mouth-watering scent that mattered: mouse!
Brightspark hadn't tasted mouse since she'd left ThunderClan after her mother had joined StarClan seven moons ago. Her father, Brackenclaw, hadn't exactly given her the warm welcome she'd been expecting. He had been harsh and abusive, refusing to recognize that she, daughter of Pebbletail, sister of the late Flamekit, was his daughter also. His attention was centered on his ShadowClan mate, Swiftshadow.
Now Brackenclaw was dead. His last moments had been spent writhing in agony as the hissing adder coiled at his paws slid away, leaving two fang marks in his victim's smooth ginger tabby pelt. Since then, Brightspark had always felt consumed with guilt: an unpleasant sensation that left a hard pebble in her stomach and a bitter taste on her tongue, which turned even the juiciest piece of fresh-kill to dust in her mouth.
The rest of the border patrol she and her father had joined was out of sight and hearing. She had been the only one who saw the adder watching her father in the shadow of a boulder. She had been the one who didn't warn him as his paws strayed dangerously closer to the swaying reptile's body. She had been the one watching, frozen with horror, as the adder struck, sinking its fangs into Brackenclaw's foreleg, and then slinking away, forked tongue flickering a warning. She had stared, unresponsive, at her father as he writhed in agony, amber eyes which had always been so hard and cold as they glared at her now wide with fear and pleading, quickly clouding over as death crept in and stole over him, lifting his spirit to the stars. And what had she done? She had done nothing. Brightspark had indirectly caused her father's death.
Brightspark mentally pushed away the memories of her stumbling away from Brackenclaw's body and meeting up the patrol, the memory of them coming across him, limbs twisted into unnatural positions, exclaiming with horror. She struggled to ignore the vision of seeing Swiftshadow's eyes, half-lidded eyes, always so disinterested in what her stepdaughter had to say, widening with shock at the news of her mate’s death, letting out a wild, despairing yowl that was flung up from the very depths of her heart, embodied with the overwhelming pain that had crashed over her so suddenly. Stop it! She scolded herself. I’m here, in ShadowClan territory right now, stalking a mouse. Which will get away if I keep revelling in dark memories.
Brightspark suddenly felt an irresistible longing spark inside her and sear her insides, of fear and pain and anger, tearing to be let out on someone, something. She felt the power flexing in her haunches and pounced, slamming her paws down on her prey, abruptly cutting off its shriek of terror with a sharp nip to the neck. She felt the mouse’s tiny heart flutter wildly beneath her pawtips, slowly weakening until, with a last faint, throbbing beat, it died out all together. She regarded it with eyes bright with triumph, her tongue swiping a bead of blood off her muzzle.
How did a mouse get so far into ShadowClan territory? The prey must be from StarClan, surely. Thank you, Pebbletail, she said silently, leaning down and grasping the still-warm mouse’s scruff and turning around to come back the way she’d come from. “Great StarClan, I’m supposed to be on a patrol!” she hissed aloud. She had been ordered to go out with Reedwhisker and catch some decent prey. By decent they probably mean frogs, lizards, and newts, she thought, wrinkling her nose. After seven moons she still hadn’t gotten used to ShadowClan’s slimy, scaled prey, yellow-bellied prey, and was certain she never would. Doubtless StarClan sent this mouse to her to give her a taste of her old, beloved forest home.
Brightspark felt the tingling glow of love warm her heart and temporarily wash away the bitterness choking it as she thought of her mother. Pebbletail, the only one who had truly loved her, who had made her feel special in the midst of ThunderClan’s hostility. When she caught greencough and joined StarClan that blustery leaf-bare day, Brightspark had known that it was time to move on. ShadowClan, in truth, wasn’t much better than her old home, but Brightspark had vowed to find her place there, and she would.
“Reedwhisker! Where in StarClan’s name are you?” she called, dropping the mouse at her paws. Her commanding meow carried on the frosty air, fading into silence. Brightspark ventured a few hesitant steps, her ears straining for any answering mew from the undersized black tom, then plunked down with a sigh. She would clean the mud off her paws while she waited for him to find her, and listen to the eerie song of the wind gushing through the trees and rattling the pine branches, so unlike the soothing whisper of rustling leaves she heard when the wind blew in her old forest home.