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Post by graygoyle on Feb 24, 2019 16:01:51 GMT -5
WE RISE AUTHOR: GRAY ■ RATED: PG-13 ■ STATUS: ONGOING "The birth of three who were not meant to be will give rise to revolution." WELCOME, Back in 2016, I wrote an unpopular, unfinished fanfiction as a disgruntled teenager under the username "hymsin" on Fanfiction.net. After enlisting in the military, I had to drop my story and focus on bettering my life. Now that I have the time and ability, I am revamping it three years later. SYNOPSIS In a far-off swamp, MarshClan struggles to reckon with their greatest enemy: themselves. When law and order take precedence, is there still room for freedom? Follow Sedgepaw as she comes of age in a Clan that harbors secrets as deep and thick as blood, for she soon discovers there may be more to her destiny than simply becoming a warrior. The further she ventures in discovering her purpose, the more dangerous her journey becomes. Will she be the one to choose her fate, or is she at the mercy of a higher power? The answer lies within.
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Post by graygoyle on Feb 25, 2019 1:22:33 GMT -5
WE RISE: PROLOGUE
LIGHT, blinding and hot, it welcomed Sedgekit into the world with its unforgiving shine. It pierced through the tangle of cypress roots, hitting the nursery and providing its heat for the young kits nestled there. Though the brown fur on her face felt warm, her eyes burned, and the world around her overwhelmed her senses. It made her cry. A gentle murmur and a rasping tongue against her cheek pacified her loud mew.
“Close your eyes, Sedgekit,” her mother murmured. Sedgekit was solaced by the affection in her mother’s familiar voice. “The light is too much for your young eyes.”
Sedgekit rolled over from her back, blinking the pain away. The nursery was quiet, and Sedgekit could see the slivers of sunlight that penetrated through the canopy of roots. She screwed her blue eyes up to see her mother, Fernstream, gazing down on her with concern in her green eyes. Sedgekit gave a small smile, crawling between her resting siblings, Yewkit and Mudkit, to nestle close to the pale brown fur of her mother’s chest. Fernstream smelled sweet and the purr she gave was like a lullaby. She peeked up from her chest gingerly, afraid of being blinded again.
“Sleep, Sedgekit,” Fernstream cooed. “You don’t need to see the world all at once.”
Sedgekit yawned, fighting the wave of fatigue wracking her little body. Her tiny claws kneaded the mossy bedding they nested in anxiously. The sun was so bright, but it could shine light on so much. The mysterious scents and sounds that perplexed her for so long could finally be visualized. She felt her heart skip in her chest.
“But--” Her mewl was silenced by Fernstream’s soothing licks and reverberating purrs. Soon, Sedgekit surrendered to sleep, shutting her eyes to the world once more.
“Oh, my Sedgekit…” Fernstream trailed off, sweeping her plume-like tail around her three kits. “My darlings.” She frowned. “I pray to StarClan that your destinies will be merciful, but if they aren’t, promise me you won’t give up. Promise me.”
“That’s quite the burden to place on our kits so soon,” a joking voice interrupted Fernstream. Her amber eyes found her mate, Shaleheart, standing in the entrance of the nursery. His golden eyes glowed. “Let them enjoy their innocence, Fernstream.”
Fernstream was not amused by his light-hearted remark, and she refused to look at him again when he crossed the shadows of the nursery to settle beside her. She did allow a small smile to cross her face, however, for the feeling of his nose pressing against her cheek struck a chord in her heart.
“I’m their mother. I’m allowed to worry,” she retorted half-heartedly, smile fading. “They already have so much against them… I fear they will not know how to handle their fate when the time comes.”
“Show some faith,” Shaleheart advised. “They’re our kits, after all. They can take on anything.”
“Easy for you to say,” Fernstream rebuked, “you didn’t receive the vision that I had. The prophecy they’ve been given is not gracious.”
Shaleheart stared at his mate and kits, silenced by the worry in her tone. His smile reappeared, however, and he was optimistic. “Maybe not, but I knew from the moment I saw our kits that they would be capable of doing great things.”
Fernstream nodded slowly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” As she gazed at her sleeping kits, the echo of her ancestors whispered in her head. The birth of three who were not meant to be will give rise to revolution.
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Post by mintedstar/fur🦇 on Feb 25, 2019 12:25:30 GMT -5
(I'm assuming you'll need more saves, so I'll of course delete this, but when you are open for posts I'd love to comment/be made a fan. ^^ )
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Post by graygoyle on Feb 25, 2019 20:29:46 GMT -5
(( Comment all you'd like. I appreciate input from other writers/roleplayers. And hooyah!! First fan lol ))
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Post by graygoyle on Feb 25, 2019 20:56:11 GMT -5
WARRIOR CODE FIRST, TO CHALLENGE ALL CATS ON OR NEAR THE BORDER AND ALLOW NO ONE TO PASS WITHOUT PROPER AUTHORITY.
SECOND, TO RECEIVE AND OBEY ALL ORDERS FROM THE LEADER, AND DEPUTY WITHOUT PROTEST.
THIRD, TO VENERATE AND WORSHIP OUR ANCESTORS IN ACCORDANCE TO THE MEDICINE CAT, AND IN THE MEDICINE CAT'S ABSENCE, THE MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE.
FOURTH, TO SHOW NO MERCY TO ANY AND ALL INTRUDERS.
FIFTH, TO ONLY EAT ONCE ALL ELDERS, QUEENS, AND KITS HAVE BEEN FED.
SIXTH, TO NEVER SURRENDER IN BATTLE, EVEN AT THE COST OF YOUR LIFE.
SEVENTH, ALL APPRENTICES MUST UNDERGO THE FINAL TEST BEFORE BECOMING A WARRIOR. THE TEST WILL COMPOSE OF SPEED, STRENGTH, KNOWLEDGE, AND SPIRIT.
EIGHTH, TO ONLY OBSERVE THE DEPUTY CHOSEN BY THE MEDICINE CAT, FOR THEY ARE THE VOICE OF STARCLAN.
NINTH, TO REPORT ALL VIOLATIONS OF ORDERS INSTRUCTED TO BE ENFORCED.
TENTH, TO SHUN ALL THAT HAVE BROKEN THE CODE OR LEADER'S LAW AND BANISH THEM FOREVER. deltra of gangnam style
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Post by graygoyle on Feb 25, 2019 21:31:43 GMT -5
CHAPTER 1: TRIAL AND ERROR THIS RACE IS A PROPHECY HAMMERING against her chest, Sedgepaw could feel her heart about to burst in its rib cage. Her white paws kneaded into the cool sand. Her pulse coursed through her veins like the rushing stream beside her. Droplets of water splashed from the babbling brook to kiss her toes, prompting her claws to unsheathe. Before her stood a small, dusky black cat, and his tail was lashing aggressively. Sedgepaw could feel her spine stiffen at the sight of his burning orange eyes, which bore into her own golden ones menacingly. They were deadlocked between their flaming glares, and the impasse did not break until the screech of a distant kestrel inspired Sedgepaw’s strike. The broad muscles in her shoulders tightened when the tomcat dove to her left, as if sensing her intention to land the first hit, and he faked her out with a swipe at her ear. He was fast, a dancing shadow armed with teeth and claws. Sedgepaw’s ear was ringing, but she doubled back and curled her lip at him.
“Cheap shot,” she hissed. Her back was to the river, she could hear it running behind her, trapping her.
The tomcat chuckled, his graying, scarred muzzle twisting into a mocking grin. “But you’re so big and tough, you should be able to handle little ol’ me,” he taunted.
Sedgepaw glared and darted towards him with a frustrated yowl. She intended to pin him down and let her fangs do the talking. A bite to the throat would fix his sneer. Her paws hit sand instead of her target; he vanished in a twist of black fur and a wake of disturbed dust. Her attacker twisted downward and snaked towards her underbelly, where his hindlegs batted her tender stomach relentlessly. Sedgepaw gasped out startled breaths, her chest heaving in fear when she realized her mistake. Rolling away, she got back to her paws after putting distance between them again. Her brow furrowed, and she tensed in preparation to spring.
“Enough,” he grumbled, getting to his paws. The tomcat gazed across the sandy shore with a stern frown on his broad face. “I can only handle so much disappointment in one session.”
Sedgepaw ducked her head, sitting with defeat coloring her features. “I was closer this time, Batface,” she argued grudgingly.
“Could have fooled me.” He rasped his tongue methodically against his paw before rubbing it against his flat muzzle with a grunt. “You’re still a thoughtless, impulsive opponent.”
“Ouch,” Sedgepaw grumbled, resting on her haunches with a roll of her eyes. “You really know how to flatter a she-cat, Batface.”
Batface spat, stamping his paw onto the sand. “Enough with the sass… You will never become a warrior if you charge at your opponent like a startled boar.” His gravelly voice was tinged with distaste.
Sedgepaw rolled onto her back and groaned. “I’m sorry, okay? But it’s just so annoying! Whenever I come at you, you’re gone. How can I get stronger if I can’t even land a hit?”
Her mentor approached her, his shadow casting over her pouting face. “Strength is not what you’re lacking, Sedgepaw,” Batface assured her. “You can hit hard.”
Sedgepaw’s golden eyes screwed up to gaze at him hopefully. A smile slowly crept on her face. “Is that an actual compliment, Batface?”
He frowned and swatted her nose with an annoyed hiss, “It’s too bad you’re a mouse-brain that can’t think on her toes.”
Sedgepaw’s eyes watered and she sneezed after receiving his scornful gesture. She sat up as he stalked passed her, heading towards the rows of skinny pine tree saplings that framed the riverbank on the crest of the slope. She flinched at his sharp glance, but when he turned tail she stuck her tongue out at him. Once he had disappeared beneath the low-hanging branches, she wallowed in self-disappointment.
“Wow, you really rubbed his fur the wrong way this time,” Yewpaw observed.
Sedgepaw swung her head around to see her sister and her mentor, Palemist, standing side-by-side. With a grimace, she turned her head away and pretended they were not there to witness her pouting display. Palemist slipped by, walking on her dainty silver paws wordlessly; she melted into the shadows of the pine trees, and Sedgepaw could hear her soft murmurs of consolation for Batface. Sedgepaw took a swipe at the sand, imagining it to be her mentor’s disapproving face.
Yewpaw’s pink nose poked at Sedgepaw’s shoulder. “Do you always give Batface such a hard time?”
“Ugh, not you too?” Sedgepaw snapped. “So what if I want to do things my way? My way’s better! If he wasn’t such a flaky fighter, tch, dancing around on his toes like a heron… I’d probably win.”
Yewpaw laughed and shook her head. “Probably.” She stared at Sedgepaw with concern glazing over her green eyes. Shrugging sheepishly, she continued, “But if you want to become a warrior with me and Mudpaw, you-you’re going to have to start listening to him.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sedgepaw grumbled. She knew Yewpaw was trying to encourage her, but she could only feel a twinge of gratefulness in her aggravated state of mind. Fixing her sister with a glare that slowly softened into a gaze of gratitude, she leaned against her with a huff. “We’ll get there... together.”
Yewpaw beamed and traced her tawny tail along Sedgepaw’s back. “Always!”
“Hey, you two!” Batface’s yowl echoed from the thick of the pine trees. “Hurry along, or I’ll drag you both back to camp like naughty kits!”
Sedgepaw rolled her eyes, getting to her paws and dashing for the slope. The pine trees shed their needles onto the ravine, and they scattered to the sandy bank below as Sedgepaw and her sister scrambled up. The sinking sun burned amber, and its dimming glow soaked through the petite pine trunks to light the forest floor with golden stripes. Sedgepaw ran through the rows of shadows and light, which took turns dimming and flashing before her eyes as her paws carried her through the trees. She could feel Yewpaw at her heels. She laughed and unsheathed her claws, playfully digging up pine needles in her sprint, which rose up into Yewpaw’s face, pricking her nose.
“Hey, watch it, you!” Yewpaw hissed, nipping at Sedgepaw’s thick, dark brown tail.
Sedgepaw laughed louder, breaking through the dense pine forest and into a sea of bright green palmettos. Their fanned out palms whisted in the wind, and Sedgepaw could see the tails of their mentors standing tall among them. The floor of pine needles thinned to dust, and Sedgepaw jumped into the mass of palmettos with a crash. Yewpaw followed soon after, landing beside Sedgepaw with a soft pant. Then, a third crash sounded. Sedgepaw stiffened.
“What in the--” Sedgepaw’s bewildered question was interrupted when a mass of mottled brown fur collided into her. With her breath knocked out of her, her golden eyes bulged as a heavy tomcat knocked her onto her back. His head blocked out the setting sun, which outlined his massive head and broad, tufted ears.
“Mudpaw!” Yewpaw hollered.
Sedgepaw hissed as her brother tried to pin her down. She could hear the deep rumble of laughter in his chest when she was seized by a sneezing fit, for their collision disturbed the dust enough to assault her nose. “Fresh-kill!” he yowled.
Sedgepaw glared up at him, not keen on the idea of being defeated twice in one day. Flexing the thick muscles in her hind legs, she pushed up against his chest, sending him bowling backwards into the palmetto fronds. “And so the hunter becomes the hunted,” she roared, diving after him with an excited laugh. Revenge was sweet.
“Oh, no!” Mudpaw squeaked. “The big, bad Sedgepaw’s gonna get me!”
“Damn right I am!” Sedgepaw growled, her eyes noticing his white-tipped tail above the green palm fans. She sprang just beside it, knowing her pesky brother would be there. “Gotcha!” She hissed, feeling him squirm beneath her white paws.
“Hey, I give! I give!” he screeched frustratedly. Sedgepaw raised her chin haughtily, crushing him into the dust. “Gah! Dammit, Sedgepaw! I can’t breathe!”
“Serves you right, you foxheart!” Sedgepaw taunted. Her feathery tail curling with amusement.
Yewpaw’s voice of concern sounded from behind her. “Come on, Sedgepaw, I think he’s learned his lesson.” The fret in her voice was clear, and Sedgepaw knew she was antsy for their truce.
Sedgepaw backed off, giving a snicker. Mudpaw rose from the palmettos with a loud, exaggerated inhale, giving a few coughs before mock-fainting. Sedgepaw laughed again, but Yewpaw was unamused, glaring between her two siblings with the irritation of an exasperated mother.
“Oh, I am on my way to StarClan now!” Mudpaw wailed. “Big, fat Sedgepaw crushed me like an ant!”
Sedgepaw curled her lip at the remark and swatted down at him, making him squeak in surprise. “Shut your face, Mudpaw, or I’ll really send you off to StarClan.”
“You guys are so annoying,” Yewpaw grumbled, stalking away from them with her tail dragging. “Can we hurry along, now? I’m hungry.”
Sedgepaw followed after her sister, kicking dust on Mudpaw as she left. He gave a cough and trailed after them, but not without giving his sister’s tail a swat. They continued to bump shoulders on the way back to camp. Yewpaw led the way with her ears twitching in annoyance. Sedgepaw brushed against her, offering her an apologetic smirk, and Yewpaw responded to it with a snort and a shake of her head. Feeling Yewpaw brush back up against her made Sedgepaw aware of her forgiveness. Meanwhile, Mudpaw was still keen on taunting his siblings, nipping at their tails in rotation.
Sedgepaw gazed up at the sky, watching it melt from a blood-orange hue to smoky blue. The strips of silver clouds became nearly transparent as the sun settled against the horizon, allowing the moon to materialize amongst the first few stars. Tranquility soothed Sedgepaw’s young, vibrant heart, and she glanced between her two siblings with contentment on her face. They were apprentices for three moons now, and before long they would be warriors of MarshClan. Before long, they would not have the time to take leisurely strolls.
The ground beneath her paws dampened and the palmettos no longer grew from the earth. Instead, the ripe scent of bog hit her nose, and the city of maidencane and reeds developed, towering above the three apprentices. Any other cat would be intimidated by the tender, watery marsh between their toes and the sight of foliage creating a wall before them, but Sedgepaw and her siblings were unperturbed. This was home.
“Finally!” Yewpaw mewed. “We’re back.”
Instead of diving into the shady depths of the reeds, Yewpaw splattered into the boggy water. Her sister rolled in the mud, letting the murky brown gunk slick across her fur. Her pelt had layers of reddish-brown which paled into tawny at the ends of her body, but once she dove into the mud, she was just one layer of brown. As for Mudpaw, his mottled brown fur became a shade darker with his new pelt of mud. Droplets of it oozed from the tips of his ears, and he gave his body a shake, showering Sedgepaw in beads of rank-smelling sludge. Despite the odor, Sedgepaw flopped into the swamp with her siblings. The various blotches of brown on her pelt only darkened when she soaked herself. The mud helped to slick their fur, granting the apprentices to slip through the serrated stalks of sawgrass and cane without injury.
Sedgepaw went first. Her muddied paws carried her swiftly through the grasses, which hissed and hustled quietly against her, carrying the whispers of her Clanmates. Their familiar scent embraced her with warmth and beckoned her deeper, deeper into the darkness of the forest of reeds. Then, a light, a pale light penetrated through the swaying stalks, and Sedgepaw and her siblings entered a clearing. It was a grassy clearing that sat before a broad lake which captured every single star on its dark, watery surface. The moon bleached the clearing of its color, hiding behind a collection of cypress trees with curtains of tangled moss dangling from their droopy branches. The faces of numerous cats turned towards her, their eyes glowing in a fashion parallel to the alabaster sphere above.
“You’re late,” Fernstream’s hushed voice greeted them.
Though Sedgepaw caught her mother’s sweet, familiar scent before she appeared, her sudden materialization from her periphery had startled her. There was a glimmer of worry in her green eyes, and her visage was not smooth and welcoming. Thetabby stripes that contoured her narrow face conveyed graveness. Sedgepaw felt her heart sink into her stomach.
“Late for what?” Mudpaw piped up, gleefully unaware of their mother’s solemnity.
Yewpaw pressed against Sedgepaw, and she knew her sister felt the same amount of concern for their mother when she hesitated to respond to Mudpaw. “Fernstream?” Sedgepaw prompted anxiously.
Fernstream’s green eyes flashed when she glanced down at her kits. Her long, feathery tail swept towards the clearing. MarshClan was gathering there. “There is a trial,” she explained poignantly. “Whitestar summoned the Clan before the Fallen Cypress; it’s starting now.”
Sedgepaw exchanged glances with her siblings, they all had eyes as wide as the moon. This would be the first trial she witnessed, and instead of feeling excited, she felt… scared. Yewpaw and Mudpaw left her to trail after Fernstream as she led the way towards the Fallen Cypress. The swell of its gray roots were coated with spongy green moss. The length of the trunk had been severed by lightning long ago, leaving the lower half to withstand the test of time while its branches and leaves were no longer, having withered long ago. At the peak of its jagged crown stood Sedgepaw’s leader, Whitestar.
Her severe, sharp voice rang out for the entire camp to here. “MarshClan, gather!” She commanded. Under the moonlight, her amber eyes burned like embers. “With urgency, I must address the latest crime brought to my attention.”
There was an excited murmur that erupted among the cats. They exchanged whispers with bobbing heads and swaying tails, eager to share what they already knew of the trial with each other. Sedgepaw perked her ears to decipher what was being said, but it was nothing but a mess of slurs and garbled phrases to her. It seemed her heart was hammering again; this time, it rung loudly in her ears drowning out what was being said around her.
Whitestar’s voice rung out in a fierce hiss, “Silence!” The muscles in her shoulders rippled when she stomped her paw onto the crest of the cypress. “The trial begins now. Bring the accused forward.”
Sedgepaw reared back on her hind legs, wanting to see who was being brought before their leader. She caught a glimpse of a skinny brown tabby, he was being dragged by his hind legs, for Grayjaw had his claws lodged there. The big gray and white tomcat drug Vinestripe across the ground as if he was a limp piece of prey. The flash of terror in the accused’s green eyes was apparent.
Vinestripe? Sedgepaw held her breath, seeing her Clanmate writhe and hiss in the grip of Grayjaw pathetically.
“Watch it, Sedgepaw,” an aggravated voice snapped behind her. It was Zinniablossom. The cranky tortoiseshell screwed her eyes up to glare at the apprentice with annoyance. “Sit on your tail and show some respect.”
Sedgepaw grumbled and landed on her forepaws. Again, she was blind to the ordeal, for the sea of pelts impeded her vision. Furrowing her brows, she pushed forward to the front, ignoring the hisses aimed at her bustling. By the time she reached the point where she could see, Vinestripe was sitting upright with his head bowed. His bloody haunches stuck out awkwardly to the side, and Sedgepaw could see the gleam of raw terror in his eyes. The moonlight bore onto his lone figure; the silhouettes of the cats gathered around him were nothing but rows of glowing, accusatory eyes. Something in Sedgepaw’s chest twisted grossly, and she suddenly wished to be in the back of the Clan again, ignorant to the sight before her.
Whitestar piped up again, “Before us is Vinestripe, a warrior of MarshClan. Formerly honored for his obedience and utility to our Clan, that honor stands to be relinquished because of his actions.” She bowed her head gravely. Sedgepaw could see thoughts running through her leader’s eyes, and she did not speak for awhile. The only sound was the chorus of screaming frogs and the whistle of crickets. Then, she continued, “A warrior’s duty is to their Clan.”
Sedgepaw knew Whitestar was about to recite MarshClan’s warrior code, and she tensed up at the thought of breaking it herself. Even in the shadows of the night, Sedgepaw could see Whitestar’s beliefs burn as bright as the stars above. Each utterance was delivered with certainty by her leader. Sedgepaw could see Vinestripe tremble between each syllable and she felt herself do the same.
“A warrior must serve their Clan to the greatest of their ability. Every aspect of their life must hold the well-being of the Clan and its future dear. When a warrior goes astray, they are to face trial.” Kitestar narrowed her eyes at Vinestripe. “Vinestripe,” she called to him harshly, and he rose his head to her. “Do you know why you are on trial?”
The tomcat flinched, his eyes dancing around at his Clanmates nervously. He shook his head and spoke timorously, “I do not.” Vinestripe cleared his throat and raised his chin again. “I-I serve in the best interest of my Clan. I always will.”
There was a rush of murmurs that swept through the gathered cats. Some sounded hopeful, others were plagued with doubt. Sedgepaw was silent, staring at Vinestripe and his shivering frame intently. Vinestripe… You’re lying. She could tell, for every word he spoke was uncertain and frightened. A truthful warrior spoke clearly and proudly.
Vinestripe was transparent to Whitestar. She frowned at him, her visage becoming severe. “You had your chance to speak the truth.”
Vinestripe struggled to intervene before she continued. “But, Whitestar! You know I am loyal! I wouldn’t do anything to--”
“Silence!” She snapped, her amber eyes burning down on him. “Vinestripe you are a liar and a disgrace to our Clan.”
“No!”
Whitestar raised her tail for silence. Vinestripe obeyed. Not even the distant frogs or crickets sang their nighttime song anymore. Sedgepaw felt suffocated by the silence, and she could feel her fur begin to prickle. She had only heard tale of what was to come, but unlike her Clanmates, she did not bear an eager gleam in her golden eyes. Instead, she braced herself on Vinestripe’s behalf.
“MarshClan does not tolerate dishonesty, Vinestripe. You are expected to take charge of your post while on guard and act as an extension of myself. And yet... You were seen swapping secrets with the Fallen.”
Sedgepaw felt her throat tighten when Vinestripe wailed, “You have no proof of that!”
Whitestar shook her head, looking disappointed in his reaction. With a flick of her long tail, she summoned, “Witnesses, proceed. Let us unmask the squalor.” deltra of gangnam style
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Post by mintedstar/fur🦇 on Feb 26, 2019 0:20:56 GMT -5
Alright cool! I never know which way authors are going to post. Sometimes they reserve posts and edit in chapters and some times it's what you're doing. But yep! First fan! I'll try to catch up when I can - or rather when the flu I have is better. But otherwise your concept looks really interesting and I'm looking forward to seeing where it goes!
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Post by graygoyle on Feb 26, 2019 21:57:42 GMT -5
CHAPTER 2: TO SKIN A CAT WE'VE LOST IT TO TRYING DISTANT cries from a barred owl echoed through the swamp. A cool breeze caused the reeds to shiver and the branches of the cypress trees to hiss. Sedgepaw shivered with them, but not for the chilling wind. Instead, it was the sight of her prosecuted Clanmate that iced her bones. She wrapped her tail around her white paws, tightly hugging herself with it. Hopefully, her fear was not evident in her scent. MashClan took pride in unveiling the sinners; the only ripe scent of fear that could be inhaled was coming from Vinestripe. He was sitting before Whitestar, enduring her judgmental glare, while the hateful murmurs of his Clanmates surrounded him. The dark stripes on his russet fur ensnared his thin legs in spirals, climbing like vines to his petite shoulders, threatening to drag him into the earth below. If Whitestar had her way, Sedgepaw feared Vinestripe really would end up buried tonight.
“Vinestripe,” Whitestar yowled, “the witnesses of your transgression will now speak.”
From the ranks of MarshClan, two cats stepped into the spotlight of the moon. One was a small, sleek, dark brown she-cat, Otternose. Her black nose was raised with pride, and she regarded Vinestripe with a pompous smirk and disdainful glare. The other was the rookie warrior, Minnowtail, and he refused to make eye contact with anyone but his white toes. Sedgepaw remembered his ceremony, for it had only been a moon prior. At that time, he was brimming with confidence and joy. Now, he appeared downcast and defeated.
“Otternose,” Whitestar beckoned promptly. “State your claim against Vinestripe.”
Otternose bowed her head to their leader, before fixing her amber eyes onto the quivering Vinestripe. Bleached by the moon’s oppressive glow, he seemed to shrivel like a withered vine. Sedgepaw tasted bile in the back of her throat when she heard the squeaky, fastidious voice escape Otternose; she was keen on skinning Vinestripe with her accusations in order to expose his tender insides to the masses. “I always suspected Vinestripe for harboring secrets. He was painfully docile and eager to please,” she began, her long tail coiling like a viper about to strike. There was an echo of agreement between the gathered cats around them. “He never wanted to attract too much attention, whether good or bad, but most importantly…” Her voice trailed off and a theatrical “pause for effect” ensued.
“This is wrong.” A soft mew preceded the feeling of fur brushing up against Sedgepaw’s flank. Shaken from her intense focus on the trial, she turned to see Blueflower beside her, staring with wide eyes at the unfolding scene before them. Those bright blue eyes flickered to her, and Sedgepaw could not look away, she was lost in their depths, drowning. They shone like the moon above, but there was a twinkle in them she could not ignore. She could see pain and fear, and she recognized those emotions because she felt the same.
“What do you mean?” Sedgepaw whispered, surprised by the amount of desperation in her own voice. “Isn’t this what’s supposed to happen?”
“That doesn’t make it right,” Blueflower replied, her gentle voice breaking. Her long, blue-gray fur glowed under the moonlight like a dayflower’s petal, but the expression on her face was dark.
Before Sedgepaw could respond, Otternose’s accusatory voice piped up again. “Vinestripe always showed a peculiar amount of interest in Clan politics.” Even as her hissed stabbed the silence of the Clan, shattering it with her hateful tone, Sedgepaw did not look away from Blueflower, though her Clanmate returned her attention to Vinestripe’s trial. “He always shadowed Whitestar, and when I challenged him, he shied away. Once I mentioned my suspicion to Minnowtail, it all became clear.”
Vinestripe’s head snapped up then, and he whipped his head around to stare at Minnowtail. He was standing beside Otternose, still refusing to meet his Clanmate’s wounded green eyes. “Minnowtail?” Sedgepaw’s ears twitched when she detected a hint of shock in the warrior’s voice. Was it really so unexpected for Minnowtail to speak out against him? If so, why?
Whitestar continued to supervise the exchange between her warriors. Her eyes narrowed at Minnowtail. “Otternose, what did Minnowtail share with you when you voiced your uncertainty to him?” she prompted.
Otternose obliged her leader’s request. “Apparently, Vinestripe was mysteriously leaving the warriors den for the past moon.” Sedgepaw saw Otternose’s eyes sparkle when her words ignited an uproar of excited whispers among her Clanmates. “Minnowtail, concerned for his Clanmate, followed him into the swamp… Where he saw him speaking with the Fallen.”
Sedgepaw stiffened when she felt the tension break in the gathered crowd of MarshClan. Hisses of disgust and rage boiled up from their tongues to fill the air with heated prejudice against Vinestripe. Glancing around at the faces of her Clanmates, she saw nothing but shock, fear, and hate. There was only one face that remained empathetic, and it belonged to the she-cat beside her: Blueflower. Her round face was solemn, her small muzzle tilted downward as if she were mourning, and her impossibly bright blue eyes were full of an emotion that Sedgepaw did not recognize. Among the chaos of her indignant Clanmates, Blueflower was silent, but her body language spoke louder than any caterwaul. She was grieving for Vinestripe.
Whitestar’s yowl brought a cessation to the madness among the ranks of MarshClan, and their outrage simmered down to waves of restless, dodgy bright eyes and discontented murmurs. MarshClan’s leader flickered her amber gaze onto Minnowtail, who remained silent for the entirety of the trial thus far.
“Minnowtail,” Whitestar began, “you came forward as a witness, did you not? Witnesses are obligated to voice their claims, yet you have let Otternose consume the floor without qualm.”
“My apologies.” Minnowtail nodded once, tucking his white chin against the feathery fur of his chest. “Well,” he rasped. “I--This, uhm, experience has stunned me, Whitestar.” He hesitated, his green eyes honing in on his white toes, which unsheathed and sheathed his claws repeatedly, nervously.
“You are not alone in this,” Whitestar assured him. “Now, tell us what happened.”
“What Otternose said is true.” Minnowtail’s timorous voice resounded weakly like a wailing frog. “Vinestripe disappeared into the night… more than once.”
Before the uproar reoccurred in the masses, Whitestar rose her long tail for silence. Sedgepaw could see Vinestripe, but he was no longer hanging his head with shame, instead, he was staring into Minnowtail. The expression on his face was twisted into a confusing combination of pain and anger. Minnowtail was ignorant to the accusatory glower of Vinestripe, however, for he only stared at his paws. Otternose regarded the exchange with a smug expression and a keen tilt of her head.
“I--I thought he was an insomniac at first,” Minnowtail confessed, a crooked smile on his jaw. A ghost of a chuckle faintly entered the clearing, escaping his lips weakly, but it faded when Minnowtail spoke again. “I mean, why else would you waste precious sleep? It was absurd… But I was worried. I wanted to make sure he was okay; I care deeply for him. I never expected him to be meeting with the Fallen, but I-I cannot deny what I saw”
“I see… How unfortunate,” Whitestar mused.
Otternose chimed in when given the opportunity. “It’s true, and it’s such a shame. Vinestripe was a good warrior, but he let his transgressions get the best of him.”
“Don’t.” Vinestripe’s voice rung out in a somber rasp. “Don’t speak of me as if I am not here.” He rose to his paws, voice trembling as he spoke loud enough for all to hear. “The Fallen are still one of us. They just want a freer, better life!” His green eyes flashed to Whitestar. “Away from disapproving eyes. Day in and day out… We do what she says, and why? What for? She doesn’t care about us. She only cares about power. They all do! If StarClan is real--”
:Enough!” Whitestar snappped. “You dare defy me? Question our way of life? Question StarClan?” Her clipped tone was sharp enough to snap the maidencane around them. Swift as a scythe slicing through wheat, she struck Vinestripe with her accusation. “Do realize the punishment for your crime? We have two witnesses, and that is all we need to condemn you, Vinestripe. Let alone that heinous speech of yours. Condemned cats do not exist to us in MarshClan.” There was an echo of agreement from the gathered Clan cats coming to aid their leader in her ruling. “You are Fallen.”
Sedgepaw stood up then, brought to her feet by her subconscious; it felt like strings plucked at her limbs to bring her upright, but she failed to understand why. All around her, MarshClan was hooting and hollering at the success of the trial. They were a mess of gesticulating shadows, relishing the downfall of their once respected Clanmate as if it were a decadent meal. Unmasking a Fallen was a cause for celebration, but this did not seem right at all to Sedgepaw.
Vinestripe, won’t you say something? Sedgepaw bit her tongue. She wanted to say something in the warrior’s defense, though she scarcely knew of him or his personal life. She was still a young apprentice, making friends of a warrior was not common for her age. Yet, she felt an arcane kinship between them. Somehow, they shared something, and Sedgepaw could hardly stand to watch him remain exposed to the vicious slurs aimed at him. Fear held her back. The gnawing sensation of fear reminded her of the consequences that lingered for those that spoke out in support of a Fallen. The wretched possibilities burrowed into her, preventing her from articulating anything but a soft whimper.
“Typically,” Whitestar added, “you are granted final words before we banish you. However, you lost that privilege by orchestrating that horrid parade of words in the middle of your trial.”
From her pedestal, Sedgepaw could not perceive Whitestar as anything but a hallowed persecutor, and she was frightened. She should venerate her leader, but when she gazed up at Whitestar, her blood turned to ice. She was far above them, out of reach, but she brought her gavel down on Vinestripe with divine force.
Vinestripe only bowed his head. “There is nothing to say. I know that the gravity of my words mean nothing to you all… You’ve passed your judgement.” His eyes were shut as he murmured, and Sedgepaw could barely understand him, for his tone was nearly inaudible. “I deny nothing.” His voice rose an octave. “I regret nothing.”
“Silence!” Whitestar hissed at him. “I hereby declare Vinestripe to be Fallen, for he has lost his grace in the eyes of StarClan as a result of his betrayal. From this night and beyond, he will not be allowed on our sacred grounds. From this night and beyond, he is no longer one of us, but an outcast. MarshClan has no place for the Fallen.” Whitestar bowed her head solemnly, and silence followed, thick and heavy. It was as if they mourned Vinestripe’s death rather than his departure. The distant, ethereal song of the crickets became a requiem.
Vinestripe stood shakily, blood trickling down from his hind legs where Grayjaw wounded him. Sedgepaw was trembling on her paws as she regarded her Fallen Clanmate. Otternose and Minnowtail disappeared into the crowd surrounding him, and he was alone. Sedgepaw glanced up at the stars for the first time that night. They sparsely peppered the dark sky, twinkling in silence. There would be no divine intervention tonight.
“Claytooth,” Whitestar summoned her warrior. “Escort Vinestripe with Grayjaw to the edge of our territory. See to it that he leaves and never returns.”
Claytooth materialized from the shadows of the Fallen Cypress. His russet fur stuck out at awkward angles as if he struggled too much when his mother used to bathe him with her tongue. His bright yellow eyes flickered to Vinestripe, and he greeted the Fallen with a curled lip. Grayjaw reappeared as well, coming from the crowd to stand beside Claytooth with a malignant visage, albeit more vicious because of his protruding lower jaw. His bottom fangs curled into his upper lip like a boar’s, giving the impression of a permanent glower. They flanked Vinestripe on either side, looking like two mountains towering over a tiny valley, but Vinestripe did not shiver. He stood with a look of resignation on his face even as Grayjaw swatted the back of his head with a massive gray paw.
“Alright, you, let’s go,” Grayjaw growled.
As the Fallen disappeared through the reeds with his escorts, the Clan exploded in a frenzy of conversation. With wild eyes and shocked faces, they recalled the happenings of the trial as if it happened a moon ago, retelling it and twisting it to fancy their imaginations. Sedgepaw did not join in. Her belly tightened and her heart clenched. This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right.
“Hey! Wasn’t that crazy?” Mudpaw hopped to her side and yowled in her ear. Sedgepaw nearly jumped out of her fur. “Woah there!” He laughed. “Maybe we should start calling you Rabbitpaw instead?”
Sedgepaw sighed and glared at her brother. “Very funny.”
“Come on, don’t be a stick in the mud! That was the first trial we’ve ever seen! Aren’t you excited?” Mudpaw pressed. The bright gleam in his amber eyes threatened to outshine the moon.
Sedgepaw tried to ignore the disgust she felt towards him. “Why are you so fascinated by it? I thought it was boring… And mean.”
“Nonsense!” Mudpaw argued. “My mentor Longscar said we’re better off without those traitors.”
“Mudpaw!” Fernstream’s scorning voice chimed in as she left the gathered cats to join them with Mistpaw shadowing her. “I’ll not tolerate you speaking such harshness at your age.” Her sharp glare switched from Mudpaw’s sheepish face to Sedgepaw’s. “And you need to respect our trials, Sedgepaw. Without them, we would never be in StarClan’s favor.”
Sedgepaw frowned. It seemed she was alone in her dislike of the trial, but then she remembered Blueflower’s face and thought better of it. “It just seems unfair. What’s so bad about--”
“Not another word, Sedgepaw!” Fernstream hissed, eyes wide with fear. “You cannot ever doubt our ways. You’re an apprentice of MarshClan, you must uphold our beliefs!”
Sedgepaw ducked her head, ignoring Mudpaw’s taunting snicker. He just seemed to be happy that Fernstream’s scorn was focused on her instead. She grunted and rolled her broad shoulders with a grudging look on her face. “Fine…”
Fernstream sighed shakily and rasped her tongue over Sedgepaw’s shoulder. “I know it’s a lot to understand, but you’ll come to see that it’s all for the better.” Her nose lingered before Sedgepaw’s face, and she glanced up at her mother questioningly. “Sedgepaw,” she whispered, “you need to promise me that you won’t contest the trials again.”
Sedgepaw tilted her head. Why was she still pushing this? Sedgepaw snorted, giving her mother a reassuring smile. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
Fernstream leaned back and exhaled loudly. “You kits will be the death of me.”
Yewpaw stepped out from Fernstream’s shadow and made a face of feigned offense. “But I thought you loved us!” she wailed.
Mudpaw joined in, giving a mock-cry of hurt. “Fernstream hates us!”
Sedgepaw laughed and noticed her mother’s amber eyes melting into a gaze of adoration. She shook her head at Yewpaw and pressed her head against her kit. “How could I ever hate my precious kits?” She began to bathe Yewpaw’s ears with her tongue.
“Bleck! Okay! I was just teasing,” she protested, her reddish-brown fur standing on end.
Sedgepaw added a teasing remark, “Aw, how cute.” She could see Yewpaw flash her a glare, but that only made Sedgepaw smile wider. In this moment, it was easy for her to forget the misfortune that fell on her Clanmate only moments ago.
Fernstream laughed and relented from her attack of loving licks. “You three should go off to your nests now. Your mentors will surely need you up with the sun.”
“Of course, Fernstream!” Mudpaw piped up, curling his white-tipped tail excitedly. “Longscar said he’d show me some awesome battle moves.”
“All the more reason to rest up.” Fernstream pressed her nose to each of her kits’ ears before disappearing towards the collection of reeds and ferns that made the warriors den.
Sedgepaw was relieved to be freed from her mother’s scornful gaze, for she was able to glance about the dissolving mass of MarshClan cats. She was searching for that blue-gray pelt of Blueflower’s among the assortment of tabbies and bicolors. Somehow, the she-cat vanished. The only she-cat that seemed to show a shred of sympathy for Vinestripe was gone, and Sedgepaw felt alone in her dilemma. Yewpaw and Mudpaw took turns yawning while Sedgepaw became statuesque in her pondering.
“Anyone in there?” Mudpaw teased, impeding Sedgepaw’s wandering eyes by shoving his face a whisker’s length from hers. “Maybe it’s time for some shut-eye? You look lost.”
Sedgepaw headbutted him. “I’m at a loss for words, actually.” Her bushy tail curled in amusement. “I have no idea how your mug got so ugly.”
Mudpaw’s tufted ears flattened, and he rose his paw in preparation for a swing. Sedgepaw flinched but felt no blow, for Blackpaw’s voice chimed in. He was standing beside Toadpaw with a keen look on his narrow face. “Some trial, right?” He did not sound pleased in the slightest, his voice was dripping with sarcasm and his cynical grin was so lopsided Sedgepaw feared it would fall from his snout.
Toadpaw gave a hiccup, or perhaps a chortle, and his wide-set amber eyes glinted. “At least we got that traitor out of here.”
Sedgepaw did not even grace them with a glance. Instead, her eyes peered over Mud’s shoulder, spotting Blueflower retreating into the den of reeds and cypress branches that composed the warriors den. Wait!
Yewpaw distracted the other two apprentices from Sedgepaw’s blatant disinterest in them by indulging them with her reply, “I could barely hear a thing! I was stuck in the back with this chattering squirrel.” Her reddish-brown tail flicked at Mudpaw, and he shrugged carelessly.
“Well, I can share with you what I saw tomorrow?” Blackpaw offered. Though Sedgepaw was ignoring them, she did not miss the amorous overtone in Blackpaw’s voice. “I had a pretty good spot,” he boasted. “Toadpaw and I saw the whole thing.”
“You didn’t miss much,” Sedgepaw interjected bluntly. “I was in the front, and it was actually pretty boring.” She cast Blackpaw a smug glare when Yewpaw gave a huff of disappointment.
“You seemed pretty interested to me,” Blackpaw retorted. “The way you were gawking at Vinestripe, I thought you were going to wail on his behalf.”
Sedgepaw bristled, and she felt the fur on her face burn. “I was just shocked is all!”
Blackpaw rolled his green eyes, pushing passed her with a contemplative grunt. “I had a feeling he was an odd bird. With those dodgy eyes and that stuttery voice of his; Grayjaw told me he was a twitchy flake.”
Sedgepaw was growing tired of Blackpaw’s rambling; he was famous for harping on himself and his beliefs. It made Sedgepaw want to snap those persistent strings so he could only babble like a dazed kit. With her long, mottled brown fur still bristling, she watched Toadpaw waddle after Blackpaw on stumpy legs into the apprentices den. The primrosewillows that composed it shivered upon their entry; their skeletal red stems and trunks swallowed the apprentices before the curtain of drooping leaves hid the entrance again.
The weight of the night finally crashed on Sedgepaw’s shoulders, and her tail drooped with fatigue. “What a night,” she whispered.
“I agree,” Yewpaw replied before yawning again. “Come on, let’s rest.”
“Me first!” Mudpaw chirped, diving into the den with a ruckus. His white-tipped tail vanished behind the branches, and Sedgepaw smiled fondly when she heard Toadpaw squeal a complaint at her brother for being so noisy.
Pushing through the draping branches, Sedgepaw noticed her friend Ospreypaw was already nested in her bedding of moss. Her black and white fur rose and fell calmly, and Sedgepaw envied her ability to surrender to sleep so soon after Vinestripe’s conviction. The entire floor of the apprentices den with thatched with layer upon layer of the wiry gray moss, sponging any moisture that seeped from the emersed roots of the primrosewillows, but it collected in heaps where the apprentices made their nests. Sedgepaw felt like she could collapse anywhere, though.
Taking her spot between Ospreypaw and Yewpaw, she rested on her back in order to gaze up at the indigo sky through the trembling leaves. The stars suspended above stared back, blinking wordlessly. She could hear her denmates’ breathing start to slow one by one as they fell asleep, but Sedgepaw remained alert. Vinestripe’s defeated face was branded in her mind’s eye, forcing her thoughts to revolve around it. She prayed for sleep until it came. When it did come, it was as if the night sky fell onto her, crushing her in darkness.
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Post by graygoyle on Feb 28, 2019 20:30:38 GMT -5
CHAPTER 3: BODIES IN THE WATER REST ASSURED, THE DEAD ARE TRUE BELIEVERS DARKNESS surrounded Sedgepaw. The riverside appeared monochromatic, for there was not a sliver of light to be seen. In the disappearance of the sun and moon, color was lost. The shadows of the pine trees and cypresses contorted upward instead of resting against the muddy shore, forming a black ribcage on either side of the running water. Sedgepaw gingerly stepped closer, opening her mouth to test the air for any signs of life. MarshClan’s territory was deathly quiet, no scuttling prey in the reeds, no birdsong in the branches, no splashes in the water. The only sound came from Sedgepaw’s heart, which was steadily beating faster.
This was not home. She wanted to run, but the sand that flanked the river cemented her paws into the ground. The muscles in her limbs rippled in vain for escape. When she opened her mouth to yowl for help, nothing escaped her throat. Swelling shadows engulfed her, and the swamp was pitch black; only the ghostly outlines of the foliage could be seen.
Panicked splashing resonated through the still swamp. Sedgepaw jerked her head around wildly, searching for whatever broke the dreadful silence. It echoed and faded before picking up again, only to echo and fade once more. It sounded like a wounded duck flapping against the current. Still immobile, Sedgepaw inhaled sharply when the river seemed to come towards her. Her periphery became a blur, and all she could perceive was the massive stream before her. It looked like the night sky was trapped in its watery abyss, holding the twinkling stars hostage.
Breaking from its surface, Sedgepaw cried out in surprise to see Vinestripe. His eyes were bulging from their sockets like two green buds about to burst in a bloody bloom. With his jaws agape in horror, only garbled caterwauls escape him. The brackish water flooded his mouth as he struggled against the weight of it. Sedgepaw likened the sight to mosquitos being flooded by tree sap, soon to be entombed in amber. Once in the midst of it, there was no means for escape. She was helpless to save her Clanmate as his skinny limbs flailed in the black waters, crying and wailing to no avail. Then, a cloud of red swelled beneath the surface, cocooning around Vinestripe’s neck so that only his bobbing head remained visible. In the water, everything became red, and Sedgepaw exclaimed in horror when she realized it was blood, Vinestripe’s blood. The blossoming gore dominated the entire river, consuming it in its scarlet miasma as Vinestripe’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull, turning the sockets a milky white.
To Sedgepaw’s horror, Vinestripe’s lifeless body was not alone. Several cats’ heads buoyed at the red river’s surface now, but Sedgepaw could not recognize any of them. Their faces were petrified in permanent expressions of terror, and they floated passed Sedgepaw downstream into the void. Their eyes held bulging white eggs with branches of angry red blood vessels for nests. It was evident their last living moments were unpleasant.
“Sedgepaw,” they whispered from motionless mouths. “Help us.”
The echo of their plea rattled her bones. Sedgepaw could not even extend a paw towards them to bring their bodies ashore. She was frozen, useless, hopeless.
“Sedgepaw, Sedgepaw, Sedgepaw.”
Sedgepaw squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drown out their repetitive imploring with her frightened protests, but she could not articulate anything more than garbled screams. Where am I? Take me home! I want to be in MarshClan!
“Sedgepaw!” She felt herself falling from the sandy bank, into the darkness. “Sedgepaw!”
Shaken from the monochrome forest and its bloody river, Sedgepaw now stared at the displeased face of her denmate, Ospreypaw. Her yellow eyes glinted with concern, but her voice remained deadpan. “You’ve been in here all morning, tossing and turning like a worm being mauled by ants.”
Sedgepaw sat up with a groan. “I feel like a worm that’s been mauled by ants,” she admitted. Every muscle beneath her pelt ached. She was stiff from nose to tail-tip, but the images of her nightmare were the most unbearable.
“Well, snap out of it,” Ospreypaw grunted. The black patches of fur beneath her yellow eyes rose when she offered an apologetic smile after being so blunt. “Whitestar called a gathering. There’s a ceremony going on,” she explained with an inkling more patience.
“Ceremony?” Sedgepaw yawned. Her mind was in a fog, and she could not surmise for who or what the ceremony would be for.
“Did I stutter?” Ospreypaw never stuttered, but Sedgepaw shrugged as if uncertain. She could hear her friend give a huff of annoyance. “Lilykit and Pebblekit are having their apprentice ceremony this morning, remember?”
Sedgepaw pondered, trying to recall the news. All her thoughts were occupied by images of bodies in the river. Their strangled expressions. Vinestripe’s screams. Memory of a simple ceremony was drowned by a bloody current.
“Sedgepaw,” Ospreypaw pressed, “do you need to see Redleaf? You’re acting strange.”
“No--no, it’s nothing, Ospreypaw,” she assured her. “Let’s go watch the ceremony.” Seeing the medicine cat was the last thing she wanted to do; if she told Redleaf of the pictures in her head, he would condemn her to bed rest for eternity. An insane warrior was a useless warrior.
Ospreypaw squinted her eyes at Sedgepaw with uncertainty before leaving the den. Sedgepaw followed that black tail into the sunlight where the scent of her gathered Clan nearly drowned out the aroma of blossoming flowers and evaporating dew drops. The morning air was sweet and warm, and there was no pandemonium. Everyone conversed with giddiness at the upcoming event; they twittered like the birds in the trees, surrounding the two kits that sat before the Fallen Cypress where Vinestripe was condemned the night before. Sedgepaw wondered if the stains from his bloodied haunches still remained on the grass. She could feel her insides churn at the realization that her Clan carried on as if they did not just exile one of their respected Clanmates on the same spot that they were about to venerate new apprentices. It’s like it never happened...
Ospreypaw took a seat near the nursery, where the buttonbush shrubs skirted a large willow and its neighboring cypress trees. The willow’s shadow presided over a portion of the clearing with its formidable height and Sedgepaw sat in it, happy to escape the brightness of the morning sun. The spiny white blossoms of the shrubs complimented the sweet scent of milk escaping the between the branches of the willow. Sedgepaw was comforted by the nostalgia the wafting aroma carried, but it was not enough to soothe her anxiety. That dream had to mean something, but what? Ugh, why me?
Whitestar took her place on the Fallen Cypress, raising her tail for silence. At the foot of the stump, where the spongy green moss bloomed, sat her deputy, Spiderfang; his amber eyes were alight with determination… and some other emotion Sedgepaw could not identify. In the clearing sat two small kits, and Sedgepaw gave a snort. They were a puny lot considering their age. She took pride in being one of the largest apprentices; no one ever dared to trifle with her, except for mousebrained Mudpaw. Still, her intimidating size did not erase all sense of fright from her; she could still feel her heart race at the thought of being beside the bloody river again.
“Lilykit’s nose is so high.” Ospreypaw observed with twitching whiskers. “It may grow wings and fly off if she keeps it up.”
Sedgepaw made a scoffing noise. “And her littermate is quivering in his fur.” The little gray tomcat looked like he wanted to shake the darker dapples on his fur off with all his shivering. “I could squish these two rookies between my paws like nothing,” she boasted, curling her white toes with pride.
“And Dewpelt will squish you in return,” Ospreypaw replied wryly. “I would rather jump into an alligator’s jaws than mess with her kits.”
“I bet Spiderfang pushed for their ceremony to come early,” Sedgepaw gossiped, her ears swivelling slyly. “Dewpelt’s kits are still only five moons old, after all. He’s been going on and on about needing more warriors since she birthed them.”
Sedgepaw was so consumed with her gossip that she failed to realize the Clan fell silent. Though she kept her whispers conspiratorially low, she did not evade Whitestar’s scornful glare. With all eyes on her, she dipped her head with a nervous snicker, rasping her tongue bashfully over her chest. Ospreypaw shook her head, a small smile on her face, and Sedgepaw knew she would salt her wound later. She could feel her heart sink when she realized Batface would scorn her for her lack of politeness as well. The day already had a rotten start.
“Now that I have the Clan’s full attention,” Whitestar began pointedly, “we can begin the ceremony.”
With the two kits ruminating with anticipation, Sedgepaw remembered her own ceremony. She and her littermates could barely contain their excitement. The idea of finally serving her Clan ignited a flame in her heart that still burned. Every word and formality was fresh in Sedgepaw’s memory, as if it happened the day prior.
“The desire to achieve, the ambition to succeed, these are the traits of a warrior,” Sedgepaw whispered the ceremony’s preface in unison with Whitestar. “MarshClan thrives on the will of its members to serve the stars, protect the code, and defend our livelihood.”
Sedgepaw sighed heavily, for the weight of her responsibility did not become clear until she saw her first trial. Never before had she considered that condemning Fallen was a part of her duty to MarshClan. She tried to ignore the quiver in her burning passion for her Clan; it was a necessary evil, she tried to convince herself. MarshClan could only survive if it remained in the good graces of StarClan.
“Lilykit, Pebblekit, from this day until the consummation of your warrior ceremony, you will learn our ways and uphold our beliefs with every fiber of your being. You will learn to wield your strength and execute your knowledge in the name of MarshClan.”
From the crowd of gathered MarshClan cats, Sedgepaw noticed the sleek brown pelt of Snakefang and the golden brown tabby fur of Mothfur separate from the mass of cats. Snakefang had his nose in the air, as usual, and she stood before trembling Pebblekit with critical amber eyes. Sedgepaw tried to stifle her snicker in vain, for Pebblekit shrivelled like a worm in the sunlight beneath Snakefang’s glare. As for Mothfur, he strided towards Lilykit with solemnity on his broad face. Sedgepaw wondered why such a brooding, unenthusiastic warrior would be chosen for a mentor. Lilykit met Mothfur’s stare with a grin of certainty, and Sedgepaw tried to ignore her growing dislike for the cheeky new apprentice.
“Mothfur,” Whitestar began, “you have long served our Clan with dignity, and your practiced pride is a trait to be admired. Therefore, I charge you with Lilykit’s training in hopes of you bestowing your wisdom and noble determination onto MarshClan’s new apprentice.”
Mothfur bowed his head before inclining towards Lilykit to rest his chin on her head. In turn, she rasped her tongue across his shoulder, sealing the bond of warrior and apprentice.
“Snakefang,” Whitestar started again, “though you are still a young warrior, you continuously serve our Clan with zeal, and your enthusiasm for the Code and our ways is a trait to be admired. Therefore, I charge you with Pebblekit’s training in hopes of you bestowing your ardor and undying loyalty onto MarshClan’s new apprentice.”
Snakefang nodded. “Of course, Whitestar.” He inclined his head to rest on Pebblekit’s head. The little dappled gray tom hesitated before rasping his tongue across his shoulder.
“Now that Lilykit and Pebblekit have accepted their mentors, I hereby pronounce them Lilypaw and Pebblepaw!” Whitestar announced happily. Sedgepaw was taken back by the austere leader’s uncharacteristic delight. “MarshClan, let us cheer for our newest apprentices and wish them good tidings for their training to come!”
“Lilypaw! Pebblepaw! Lilypaw! Pebblepaw!” The chorus of cheers drowned out the morning’s birdsong. Sedgepaw joined in with the others, applauding the new apprentices despite her misgivings. “Lilypaw! Pebblepaw! Lilypaw! Pebblepaw!”
However, Sedgepaw noticed a particularly silent Clanmate. Just as she had stood out the night before, she stood out in the daylight. Blueflower’s blue gray fur was just as luminous under the sun, and her bright blue eyes, they were downcast once more. She did not cheer for the apprentices, instead, her eyes averted the crowd of rejoicing Clan cats. She was watching the sky, looking for something amongst the wispy white clouds. Sedgepaw frowned, concerned, but her abruptly glanced away when Blueflower’s enigmatic blue eyes turned to her.
“What are you gawking at?” Ospreypaw wondered, sounding annoyed. “Shouldn’t you be cheering with the rest of us?”
Sedgepaw gave a snort. “I thought I saw a butterfly.” Her reply was nearly drowned out by the applauding cats around them.
Ospreypaw shook her head, her mouth becoming slant with her lack of amusement. “How interesting. Did it wave at you as it fluttered by?” she asked sardonically.
“No, it was too busy staring at the cranky she-cat sitting beside me.” Sedgepaw joked.
Ospreypaw remained unamused and rolled her stormy yellow eyes. Sedgepaw leaned against her friend with a goofy smile on her face, trying to perk up her perpetually bitter Clanmate. While most cats were averse to spending time with Ospreypaw, for she always looked like she just swallowed bile and had the attitude to boot, Sedgepaw found her charming beneath that prickly black and white pelt. Ospreypaw glanced at Sedgepaw, giving her a ghost of a smirk before shoving her back.
“Get off me, you big lug.”
Sedgepaw laughed and shoved her back, and Ospreypaw responded with another in retaliation. Before long, the two were locked in a wrestle, each trying to knock the other over. Sedgepaw cracked a broad grin when she realized she coerced laughter from Ospreypaw in their jostling. The fun ended prematurely, however, for Batface’s shadow loomed over the apprentices and he cleared his gravelly throat.
“Play time’s over, apprentices,” he decided. His short, black tail lashed impatiently, and the pensive gleam of his amber eyes threatened to burn a hole in Sedgepaw’s mottled brown fur.
Sedgepaw untangled herself from Ospreypaw with a huff. Her long fur stuck out at various angles like ruffled feathers, and she gazed at her mentor bashfully. “Of course, Batface.” I’d be a mousebrain to think play time wouldn’t be over with you around… She thought grudgingly.
Beside him, Molefoot was smirking at the two apprentices. The black cat looked like they wanted to join in on the tussling, but conceded to Batface’s seriousness with a stern nod. “It’s time for our morning routine, Ospreypaw.”
“Since you two are paired, we’ll be training together today,” Batface explained.
Sedgepaw nodded, acknowledging the fact that paired apprentices often train together, building off each other’s strengths and weaknesses. It was the best way to train hard and learn fast, but Sedgepaw always loathed paired training days; Ospreypaw was faster and more agile than she, and if the day began with a race, Sedgepaw knew she was already beat. Glancing behind the two mentors, Sedgepaw noticed her littermates Yewpaw and Mudpaw joining their pairs. Mudpaw hopped alongside the waddling Toadpaw, jabbering like a jackdaw. Yewpaw and Blackpaw were leaving camp, their pelts brushing, and Sedgepaw wrinkled her nose at the thought of Mistpaw spending the day with Yewpaw. The only thing he’ll be training is his pick-up lines.
“This way,” Batface urged. “We’re wasting daylight.”
Molefoot stretched their short legs, which were noticeably ticked with odd white patches of fur, too thin to be considered spots. A loud yawn escaped them. “Don’t put too much pressure on them, Batface,” they warned. “Apprentices should learn to enjoy their training.”
Smiling, Sedgepaw nodded at the warrior in agreement. If only she had them as her mentor. They was always carefree and warmhearted, unlike the bossy, moody Batface. Her ears flattened when she heard Batface’s retort.
“Nothing is enjoyable about training. It is meant to be diligent and challenging. Being a warrior is not a game.”
When Sedgepaw noticed Ospreypaw nodding in agreement she grumbled at her under her breath, “Don’t encourage him.”
Ospreypaw frowned, but said no more as they approached the boundary of reeds and maidencane surrounding the camp. Batface pushed through first, looking like a shadow melting into the pale green and yellow stalks. Sedgepaw let Ospreypaw dive in after him, uneager to follow too close behind her mentor. He seemed grumpier than usual. Molefoot hesitated before the reeds, which whistled invitingly at them to venture into their depths. They turned to Sedgepaw, smiling as he pressed his nose to her ear.
“Don’t mind Batface,” they murmured. “He means well.”
“He has a rotten way of showing it,” Sedgepaw replied resentfully.
“You will probably be his last apprentice. You’re his legacy.”
Sedgepaw’s amber eyes became wide as the moon. “No pressure.”
Molefoot gave a chuckle, whiskers twitching. “You’ll make him proud, I know it. You’ll make all of us proud.”
Feeling rejuvenated, Sedgepaw went after Batface and Ospreypaw into the reeds. She could hear Molefoot tail her, and together they snaked through the jungle of maidencane. It combed through her pelt, stealing some fur on her way out. When she burst into the marshy grass that surrounded the camp, Batface and Ospreypaw were already running through the palmettos. Molefoot rustled from the reeds to stand beside her, and Sedgepaw saw a twinkle in their eye.
“Let’s catch up!”
Bursting into a sprint, Sedgepaw kicked up clods of mud in her wake. It splattered against her long pelt, and she became a darker shade of brown. Batface led the charge, his tail standing straight like a flag. Ospreypaw dashed through the palmettos effortlessly, and Sedgepaw struggled to keep pace with her friend. The thick muscles beneath her pelt felt heavy as they rippled, carrying her with endurance in mind rather than speed. Molefoot brought up the rear purposefully, keeping a wary eye out for danger from behind. They skirted the pine forest that hugged the winding river, heading south where the cypress trees ruled alongside vast oaks and birches, which stood tall amongst the bog. The remnants of dawn’s fog filtered through the varying trunks of foliage, carrying the pungent odor of prey and rich soil.
Batface halted before the massive swamp, gazing in silence. Sedgepaw struggled to catch her breath beside him, her ears perking with surprise when she heard him wheezing. The echo of Molefoot’s words rang in her head.You will probably be his last apprentice. When he returned her stare, she offered him a small smile that he did not return. Sedgepaw ducked her head and sighed. If she truly was his legacy, he did not seem thrilled by the notion. Wrinkling her nose, she decided the feeling was mutual.
Molefoot and Ospreypaw were beside each other, staring into the foggy swamp. Sedgepaw stole a glance at the two, listening to the warrior’s words of wisdom. She could hear them educating her about the perils of navigating the swamp, and they broke off into a tangent about wrestling with a snapping turtle. Sedgepaw stared at her white paws, squishing her toes into the mud in a pout. She longed for a relationship like that with Batface, one where they could converse without descending into an argument.
“Snakefang and Mothfur will join us soon,” Batface mentioned as he approached the shadows of the swamp. “They’ll bring the new apprentices to observe you two.”
“You both are performing well in your training, so Whitestar thought it best for Lilypaw and Pebblepaw to see you in action.”
Raising her chin, Sedgepaw felt her heart swell. This was her chance! She would show Batface how much she learned. With a gleam in her amber eyes, she darted forward. “Let’s go then! No time to waste, right, Batface?” Her giddy laughter drowned out his protests as she overran his lead.
“Wait for me, mousebrain!” Ospreypaw called after her.
With her Clanmates’ echoing voices behind her, Sedgepaw led the way to the Training Gully. Ivy tangled at her paws, hiding the forgotten fallen leaves that descended from the ancient oak tree branches. Ospreypaw’s distant protests bounced off the dense oak trunks and rattled through the birches, but Sedgepaw was deaf to them. The ivy thickened at her paws and the potent aroma of the golden flowers that blossomed from it wafted in the humid air. However, there was another offensive scent that clashed with the bloom. A rank stench of rotting flesh ready to peel from bone was becoming more prominent with each step; Sedgepaw opened her mouth, wondering where the putrid odor could be coming from. Perhaps a coyote abandoned their kill?
No, it was not carrion that harbored this odor. Sedgepaw skidded to a halt, for before her was a skinny brown tomcat with swirling dark stripes and pale green eyes that seemed to glow. “Vinestripe!” Sedgepaw’s exclaimation was strangled with fear.
Vinestripe did not reply, instead, he wordlessly stood amongst the carpet of vines and their bright flowers. His eyes seemed to stare through Sedgepaw, looking into the distance expressionlessly. His face was vacant, and he reeked of death. Sedgepaw gingerly stepped closer to him.
“You-you can’t be here anymore,” she warned. “You’re Fallen.” Sedgepaw knew what she had to do. It was her duty as a MarshClan cat to chase him off their land. He was no longer welcome here. Unsheathing her claws, she felt her stomach twist into knots like the vines at her paws. “You must go, now.” She tried to sound firm, but her heart was racing. The memory of her nightmare was still fresh in her mind.
The Fallen tomcat was plagued by silence. His eyes were clouded over, foggy. Sedgepaw realized he was not even acknowledging her warning. She felt her face burn with embarrassment. He was not threatened by her at all! With bristling fur, she took another step closer, trying to suppress the impulse to gag at the rotten smell coming off of his wet fur… Wait, wet fur? Sedgepaw blinked slowly. Vinestripe’s pelt was dark, waterlogged, and she realized droplets of water slid off his whiskers. She pushed back the images of her nightmare. The sight of his body floating down a red river charred her brain of all rationality. Then, she gasped when she saw the scarlet grin on his neck, which shedded rivulets of blood.
“You’re hurt! Who did this?” Sedgepaw gasped. She turned her head, wary of her Clanmates finding her with a Fallen. Sedgepaw knew Vinestripe would have to leave before they came, or they would certainly give him more wounds to lick. “Listen,” she growled. “You’re already bleeding… badly. If I fight you, I’ll kill you.” Sedgepaw knew Vinestripe was a seasoned warrior, but he looked fatigued and weak. “Get out now, or I’ll have no choice.”
Vinestripe’s wound gushed, and Sedgepaw took a step back in shock. The tomcat opened his mouth to gurgle an inaudible reply, before turning and running off into the woods. Sedgepaw was breathing heavily as the Fallen disappeared into the woods. Beads of red tainted the golden petals, leaving a trail of blood for her to follow. There was no way he could survive his injury. Sedgepaw was frozen, stuck with the choice to remain in the clearing or follow the wounded Fallen.
“Wait!” she hollered after him. Sedgepaw had to make sure he left their territory. It was her responsibility, after all. No, it was more than that. She had to make sure he was okay. How did he acquire such a morbid injury? “Vinestripe!”
A glimpse of his tail slithering around the broad trunk of an oak tree allowed Sedgepaw to keep track of his escape. The dimples of his pawprints into the soft soil were coupled with droplets of blood. The climbing ivy that hugged the oak trees bore red-stained leaves and the scent of death lingered. Sedgepaw felt the burn of panic in her veins, but she did not falter in her chase. She needed answers. Tearing through the tangles of undergrowth, she could feel her long fur snag against the branches. All she cared for, however, was locating the wounded tomcat.
“Vinestripe!” she called out to him again in vain. The only response was the distant cries of sandhill cranes.
Sedgepaw felt her legs burn as her pursuit led her uphill. She weaved through the knees of the cypress trees, which jutted from the soil like jagged teeth. At the crown of the slope, she caught a flicker of Vinestripe’s tabby pelt venturing over the edge. Her amber eyes widened in fear at the thought of losing him. Unable to muster the breath to cry out to him, Sedgepaw’s uneven gulps of breath were drowned out by the racket of a loud splash.
“No!” she screeched.
Sedgepaw burst onto the crest of the hill, which overlooked the river that ran its course through her territory. Its current was unforgiving against the stones that sat in its depths; fiercely, it splashed into rageful rapids that threatened to swallow anything unlucky enough to hit its surface. Sedgepaw’s eyes glanced desperately across the rabid water, which frothed white in its fervent run. The ripple of Vinestripe’s collapse vanished just before the rocks greeted the river. His body did not resurface.
“Vinestripe!” Sedgepaw yowled above the river’s roar.
Bowing her head, she felt the pressure of her nightmare collapse on her shoulders. It replayed in her head over, and over, and over again. The shiver in her paws was minute, but it conveyed her inner feelings of helplessness. She could not save him in the trial, she could not save him now. No wonder Batface hates me… I can’t do anything right.
It was the feeling of being watched that pulled Sedgepaw out of the cloud of remorse that hovered over her. Jerking her head up, she noticed a cat on the other side of the riverbank. It was a cat she did not recognize with eyes so pale green they seemed unreal and a pelt of muddy brown. Sedgepaw narrowed her eyes, stepping towards the edge of the hill where it dropped into a sheer cliff, wanting a closer look at this strange cat. She could not pick up a scent that identified the onlooker, all she could taste was the sharpness of mint and freshwater. The cat blinked slowly up at her, but Sedgepaw could only focus on the mess of scars criss-crossing across their shoulders. This cat went through an awful fight, but lived.
The cat spoke to her from across the river, but their voice failed to carry up over the rapids to her. Sedgepaw could only read their lips, which articulated the message flawlessly: “There are bodies in this water.”
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Post by mintedstar/fur🦇 on Feb 28, 2019 21:37:21 GMT -5
Would it be possible to enlarge the text at all? I'm having a bit of trouble reading it.
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Post by phantomstar57 on Feb 28, 2019 23:50:15 GMT -5
Would it be possible to enlarge the text at all? I'm having a bit of trouble reading it. As am I. I haven' t read much because of that. I'm an old geezer with very bad eyesight. . .so often can't read some fic because of either too small text otr not enough contrast between text and background.
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 1, 2019 0:45:17 GMT -5
Of course. My apologies. I'll edit the text now! Thank you both for your input. And I'm sure you're not that much of a geezer, phantomstar57!! lol I hope you're feeling better mintedstar/fur🦇
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Post by phantomstar57 on Mar 1, 2019 17:21:41 GMT -5
Of course. My apologies. I'll edit the text now! Thank you both for your input. And I'm sure you're not that much of a geezer, phantomstar57 !! lol I hope you're feeling better mintedstar/fur🦇 Thanlks! There is an issue with text going off the right margin but not sure if its my machine of something else. Oh yes LOL I am an old geezer. If I were a Warrior I'd be in the elder's den.
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 1, 2019 22:40:03 GMT -5
i adjusted the width of the layout so hopefully that doesn't happen phantomstar57. i apologize again. it's probably becoming painfully obvious i've never posted a fic on proboards before ahaha
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Post by mintedstar/fur🦇 on Mar 1, 2019 23:23:11 GMT -5
Oh that is much better! Thank you very much. Don't worry about it too much graygoyle! But thanks for making the accommodations - it makes things easier on the eyes.
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 1, 2019 23:35:20 GMT -5
it's no problem! i'm glad to have the input. i only use chrome, so when it looks good to me, i assume it looks good to everyone--my mistake!
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 1, 2019 23:54:23 GMT -5
CHAPTER 4: CHILD'S PLAY THEY'RE DYING TO STOP YOU
CAUGHT, in the mayhem of war between dreams and reality, Sedgepaw struggled to comprehend her surroundings, specifically the cat below. The pale brown tabby with mangled shoulders and pastel green eyes returned Sedgepaw's stare, but, unlike hers, their eyes were void of confusion. In fact, there was an eerie clarity to their gaze; it was as if they knew everything with a glance. Sedgepaw's skin crawled beneath her fur. She doubted her sanity now, for no earthly cat could perceive the world with such arcane eyes. Across the effervescent rapids that separated them, they continued to stare at Sedgepaw in silence, but the words they spoke continued to echo in her head: "There are bodies in this water."
Bodies, perhaps dozens if Sedgepaw's nightmare was a vision in disguise, littered the unforgiving depths of the river. She was beginning to suspect Vinestripe was among them. However, she came up blank when trying to put a face to the murders. Segdepaw inched towards the hill's edge, where it dropped into a cliff framed by roots that jutted out of its face, which stretched towards the misty surface of the river, thirsting for freshwater. A forewarning pebble took a dive from the hill's lip, plummeting towards the river that swallowed it without a qualm. Sedgepaw inched back then, heeding the pebble’s sacrifice. She was desperate for answers, and she believed the mysterious cat below had them, but a descent from this point would mean her demise. Her plume-like tail lashed with frustration.
"Who are you?" she yowled from the hilltop.
There was no response, which prompted a hiss from her throat. The cat slowly backed away from the shore, their eyes not moving though they bowed their chin, as if bidding farewell. Sedgepaw physically reacted to their slow retreat, nearly scrambling over the hill's drop in her haste.
"No, wait!" she cried.
They vanished into the ferns, leaving Sedgepaw pacing at the edge, her white paws itching to give chase. Her amber eyes darted frantically about the shoreline, trying to pluck that light brown pelt from the masses of ferns and reeds to no avail.
"Sedgepaw!" It was Ospreypaw's voice that brought Sedgepaw back to reality; she called to her while ascending the hilltop, and when she appeared Sedgepaw thought she spotted a hint of worry on her face. Instead, the black and white apprentice was staring at her questioningly, and her aggravation was apparent when she spoke again. "You mousebrain, we were looking all over for you!"
Gazing at her friend, Sedgepaw knew her irritation masked her worry. She smiled and shrugged her broad shoulders in defeat. "Well, you found me." She hid her bewilderment with a wry grin. "Took you long enough too. You're definitely not a tracker, Ospreypaw."
"Very funny." Ospreypaw narrowed her eyes, and Sedgepaw knew she failed to evade her friend's intuition. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Oh, please, save that spiritual mumbo-jumbo for Redleaf." Sedgepaw laughed. However, she was beginning to surmise the possibility of witnessing a manifest spirit. The spirit of Vinestripe.
"Come on, you, Batface and Molefoot are downhill waiting." Ospreypaw turned back towards the forest, flicking her long tail. "The new apprentices and their mentors are there too."
Sedgepaw groaned inwardly. After being in the wake of madness, she forgot all about her audience for the day's training. Between her long night and the unexpected appearance of Vinestripe and the cat across the river, she could feel her body's strength wane. The first time she was to test her skills before younger apprentices, and she was not even on top of her game! Sedgepaw gritted her teeth angrily. StarClan had a rotten sense of humor; it was as if her ancestors mapped out her embarrassment on purpose.
Following Ospreypaw down the hill, she returned to the ravine where the jutting knees of cypress trees ruled. The jagged, erect roots staggered throughout the mud, and in-between them were Batface, Molefoot, Snakefang, Mothfur, Lilypaw, and Pebblepaw. Sedgepaw gulped when she realized all their eyes were on her.
"I'm ready," she announced, keeping her chin high. Even with all the attention being honed in on her, Sedgepaw refused to cower. She would prove herself to them, Batface especially.
"I'd hope so," Batface retorted, "You've already wasted enough time with your little stroll." Spittle rained from his lips as he emphasized every word with unbridled annoyance.
Sedgepaw curled her lip, struggling to tame her desire to snap back at her disapproving mentor. "I was stretching my legs," she explained mildly.
Molefoot had interrupted the argument before it started with their jovial tone. "Okay! Today, Ospreypaw and Sedgepaw will demonstrate their skills of agility, strength, and climbing capability."
Trying to sustain her satisfaction when Molefoot stole Batface's opportunity to scold her, Sedgepaw gave the other warrior a broad smile and nodded excitedly. "I got this!" she affirmed.
Ospreypaw snaked around to sit beside her, a challenge twinkling in her golden eyes. "So you say."
Batface spoke up again, his tongue reluctantly adopting a cordial tone. "We will begin with agility then. At the foot of the cypress, where the knees are not present, will be your starting point," he began, his short tail flicking sideways at the tall cypress nearby. "You both will race through the knees and roots of the trees to the best of your ability, finishing at the end where the oakbridge overpasses the ravine."
Sedgepaw glanced from one end to the other, feeling her belly churn uneasily. Agility was never effortless for her; she preferred to charge full-speed ahead, not swivel through obstacles with grace like some lanky heron. She wrinkled her nose and shuffled her paws grudgingly, feeling the excitement radiating off Ospreypaw. Her friend was noticeably slimmer than she was, with the long legs to boot. Defeating her would be a challenge.
Across from where she sat, Snakefang and Mothfur were murmuring to each other. Sedgepaw wondered what they could be exchanging. She wondered if they doubted her. Unease caused her pelt to prickle, for the judgmental glare of Snakefang was fixated on her now. Mothfur was stoic in contrast; he did not seem to regard Sedgepaw or Ospreypaw with any favor. Still, his soft murmurs coaxed self-consciousness out of Sedgepaw, which she struggled to smother.
Ospreypaw led the way towards the cypress that marked the start of their first test. Sedgepaw followed with determination coloring her face. She walked before Lilypaw and Pebblepaw with pride, carrying herself in a manner that allowed every muscle in her limbs to ripple. She wanted to intimidate the new apprentices and impress the mentors, refusing to let her insecurities swarm her mind.
Inhaling deeply, Sedgepaw gazed across the ravine. She stood beside Ospreypaw with tense muscles, her amber eyes gleaming with a storm of resolution and apprehension. Her heart was beating erratically. It felt like a woodpecker was stuck in her ribcage, hammering its beak against it in an attempt to be set free. Shaleheart and Batface joined the others on the flank of the ravine, where they could observe without getting trampled. Sedgepaw stole a glance at Ospreypaw before the race began, and she felt anger rise from her belly when she saw the smug look of confidence etching her narrow face. She looks as if she thinks she already won!
"Steady," Molefoot called, preparing the apprentices for their go. Time moved at a snail's pace. "And… Start!"
Sedgepaw bolted off from the shadow of the cypress. She unsheathed her claws, wanting to grip the soft ground with more certainty. Clods of mud churned up from under her paws, scattering backward to splatter against her tail. She knew if she got a strong start, she might win. Quickly, the spikes of roots greeted her. Sedgepaw hissed, skidding to the side to avoid colliding with one head-on. Her evasive maneuver was unpolished, and her broad shoulder kissed the knee painfully. Wincing, Sedgepaw spotted the flash of black-and-white fur coasting through the teeth-like growths with ease. No! She's going to get ahead of me! Sedgepaw scrambled onward, dodging through the knees madly, her shoulders and hindquarters taking a beating in the process.
"Dammit," she growled. Sedgepaw could feel her claws burn. With every erratic step, she threatened to tear them.
Ahead, Ospreypaw slithered through the spiked roots with a gait so fluid streams would be jealous. Sedgepaw gritted her teeth and charged forward faster, longing to catch up. The tendons in her limbs screamed in protest. The knees became more numerous as Sedgepaw carried on, to her dismay. Slipping awkwardly sideways, she struggled to avoid a protruding root that appeared unexpectedly. Her totter was not over, for she had to jump abruptly to avoid a shorter knee in her path. Nearly stumbling, Sedgepaw dove between two more knees with wide eyes. It was like they became teeth that hungered to impede her in her stampede. Not keen on being skewered, Sedgepaw slowed her pace and snaked between the knees with more ease. She sacrificed her speed grudgingly, but finished with a fraction of grace. Sedgepaw already knew she lost, but at least she completed the test.
Oakbridge welcomed her with shade, and Sedgepaw collapsed into it. Her eyes screwed up to see Ospreypaw sitting patiently, grooming her long forearm with practiced pride.
"Looks like I win this one," she observed nonchalantly.
Sedgepaw knew she was riveted by her victory, and she would have preferred Ospreypaw act so. Feigning modesty was somehow more frustrating to Sedgepaw than gloating.
Ospreypaw made a huffing noise. "Don't act so melancholy." Her black tail-tip brushed against Sedgepaw's nose. "You can't win everything."
"Easy for you to say," Sedgepaw snapped, still struggling to catch her breath. "You're the winner."
Ospreypaw rolled her eyes, but before she could reply, their mentors approached. Molefoot was beaming, of course, and they looked ready to parade their apprentice with praise. Sedgepaw sat up slowly, not surprised by the look of disappointment on her mentor's face. Shadowing them were Snakefang and Mothfur, and they both were murmuring between each other again. Bringing up the rear were the young apprentices, and Sedgepaw noticed Lilypaw was looking more enthusiastic than ever.
"That was incredible!" Her mew exploded from her mouth, causing Pebblepaw to jump beside her. She danced up to Ospreypaw on her dainty white toes. "You're so fast, like, like nothing I've ever seen before. I'm going to be just like you!"
Ospreypaw nodded, unappreciative of Lilypaw's excitement. Her ears were flat, just like her expression. "Everyone has their own skills. Our skills are what make us unique."
Lilypaw was undeterred by Ospreypaw's deadpan tone. "Well, I hope I'm not skilled in falling like Sedgepaw. Then they may call me Lilyfall!" She snickered, clearly impressed by her own joke.
Sedgepaw curled her lip and cuffed the apprentice's ear with her paw. "How about Lilythorn, then?" she hissed. "You sure are skilled at being a thorn in my side."
Lilypaw made a grumble of protest, backing away from them with a look of disdain, and Pebblepaw crawled behind her. His big blue eyes gazed up at Sedgepaw fearfully, and she smirked. With a lunge, she pretended to pounce on them, only to land a whisker's length away from them to give a roar. Sedgepaw gave a snort when both apprentices ran to their mentors' sides. That's what I thought. Ignoring Snakefang's glare, Sedgepaw faced Batface and Molefoot, awaiting their instruction.
Ospreypaw nudged her side. "Nice job terrorizing the pests," she whispered with a smirk.
"I'll be terrorizing you next," Sedgepaw promised, returning the smirk.
Batface cleared his throat, an indication that his patience was waning. Sedgepaw fell silent, allowing her mentor to speak while avoiding his bright amber glare. She longed for him to look at her the same way Molefoot looked at Ospreypaw.
"Next, a test of strength," Batface announced. He glanced between Ospreypaw and Sedgepaw with scrutiny. "The apprentices will duel one another in a mock fight, and the winner is the one that can pin the other down."
"Keep your claws sheathed!" Molefoot warned, and Sedgepaw shrugged when they fixed her with a pointed stare. "And do not break the other's skin, or the duel is over."
Sedgepaw entered the shadow of Oakbridge, which passed over the ravine to connect with the hill that stood before the river. It had fallen long ago, reduced to nothing but a log that allowed the cats to cross without having to scale the hills. Now, it shaded the battlefield, keeping the earth beneath moist and soft to cushion the blow of tussling apprentices. Squaring her shoulders, she sized up Ospreypaw as she took her place across from her.
Her opponent was lean with a build that promised speed and agility. The sharpness in Ospreypaw's yellow eyes made Sedgepaw wary, for she knew her friend was equipped with intelligence as well. Rolling her shoulders, she tensed her muscles in preparation. Ospreypaw's long tail lashed fiercely, but she did not speak. She was standing before Sedgepaw with a cold look of concentration on her narrow face.
Sedgepaw's amber eyes gleamed. She wanted to get a rise out of Ospreypaw. "I'm not going to take it easy on you!" she warned.
Her opponent merely shook her head in response, which prompted Sedgepaw to growl. Ospreypaw did not seem the least bit intimidated by her. Her friend's silent self-assuredness only fueled Sedgepaw's will to win.
"And begin!" Molefoot ordered.
To Sedgepaw's surprise, Ospreypaw made the first move. In a flash, the apprentice disappeared, darting to Sedgepaw's side with enough speed to rival a lightning bolt. Ospreypaw struck her shoulder with the same quick motion, bringing her paw down with enough force to sting. Sedgepaw winced but was able to react in defense before Ospreypaw went for another swipe at her head. Ducking, she heard with the whistle of Ospreypaw's blow narrowly miss her ear, and Sedgepaw snarled when she headbutted her opponent in the chest.
Fallen leaves rose again when Ospreypaw was bowled over onto the ground. Sedgepaw did not allow her time to recuperate. She lunged, forearms extended, and prepared to pin her down. Ospreypaw was too keen, however, and rolled so that Sedgepaw smashed her paws down on the ground where her shoulders used to be. Then she felt the sting of Ospreypaw's rear paws kicking at her side, rattling against her ribs. Batface's words echoed in her mind. You're still a thoughtless, impulsive opponent.
Sedgepaw sprung backward, recalculating her next move. Ospreypaw got to her paws again, and the two apprentices became locked in a circling motion. Each watched the other pensively, evaluating their opponent and predicting their next attack. Ospreypaw was smart; Sedgepaw realized she would have to be smarter if she was to win. She could not withstand the idea of losing again. Though her mind was foggy with fatigue and the gore of Vinestripe's appearance haunted her, Sedgepaw could still feel the fire of determination searing her veins.
With a hiss, Ospreypaw snaked towards her in a swerving motion, which made her position hard to pinpoint. However, Sedgepaw noticed Ospreypaw's eyes flicker briefly to her legs, and she jumped before the apprentice could slither beneath her. Landing behind Ospreypaw, Sedgepaw spun and clobbered the back of her head with her massive white paw. She could hear Ospreypaw's grunt, and Sedgepaw assumed the apprentice was stunned. Growling, she pounced on Ospreypaw's back, knowing her weight would pan out favorably against the slimmer she-cat, and began to rake her hind paws against Ospreypaw's hindquarters.
Feeling Ospreypaw struggle, Sedgepaw clung to her shoulders as best as she could with sheathed claws. Suddenly, Ospreypaw writhed, arching her narrow back to slip from Sedgepaw's white toes. Ospreypaw, once freed, spun around to swipe at Sedgepaw's muzzle. She snapped her neck back to jerk away from the strike, and she felt Ospreypaw graze her whiskers. However, she failed to dodge the next blow and felt the smack of her paw against her face. If Ospreypaw unsheathed her claws, Sedgepaw knew the wound would have cut deep. Giving a hiss, she reared up on her hind legs and crashed down towards Ospreypaw, knocking her across the shaded clearing. Mud stained her black and white fur, and Sedgepaw noticed the burning ferocity in her friend's eyes. She was not surrendering easy, and Sedgepaw began to worry she would not have the energy to endure the battle much longer.
Stealing a glance at her mentor, she saw a peculiar gleam in Batface's orange eyes. Struggling to decipher his expression, she almost lost her opportunity to react to Ospreypaw's offensive move. The apprentice faked her out, for her eyes were locked on the side of Sedgepaw, but she landed her blow on the opposite side. Falling victim to Ospreypaw's cleverness, Sedgepaw felt her opponent's paw rake down her side. Baring her fangs, Sedgepaw knew she would have to react before Ospreypaw gained the advantage. She could not afford to lose. With Ospreypaw circling to attack again, Sedgepaw decided the best option for victory was to cripple Ospreypaw's boon: her swiftness. Once more, Ospreypaw surged forward with viper-like reflexes, but this time, Sedgepaw was ready. She invested too much energy on using her strength alone; now her attack would have a purpose. In a sweeping motion, Sedgepaw lowered her body and lunged forth, her large paw did not aim for Ospreypaw's face or chest or shoulders, the typical targets, this time, she struck at Ospreypaw's willowy limbs.
Angry shrieking from Ospreypaw startled the nearby crows, and there was a muffled clapping noise when Sedgepaw's strike collided with her legs. Swept off her feet, Ospreypaw hit the ground chin-first with a loud thud. Then, Sedgepaw wasted no time in pinning her there. Ospreypaw gave a grunt, but with her legs twisted beneath her, she could not escape.
"That's it!" Batface shouted. He stood and approached the dueling apprentices with a stern expression. "The spar is over. Sedgepaw's the winner."
Sedgepaw raised her chin and smiled at her mentor. To her delight, Batface cracked a small grin. It did not look forced, and it was not overtly obvious, but it was enough for Sedgepaw. She won, she made him smile. "Fantastic!" she crowed.
Ospreypaw gave a hiss. "Okay, you've won. You can get off me now."
Sedgepaw ducked her head apologetically. "Oh, sorry, Ospreypaw." She released her friend from her grip, smiling still.
"Of course." Ospreypaw rose to her legs shakily, rolling her eyes. She shivered off the leaves and mud that collected on her pelt during the fight.
Molefoot approached to shoulder Batface. "Well done both of you!" His yellow eyes gleamed, and Sedgepaw nearly laughed at the starkly different reaction he had compared to Batface. "You performed spectacularly in your own way. You both will make fine warriors one day."
Batface gave a small nod then but said nothing more. However, Sedgepaw still felt his gaze on her, and she felt her heart swell.
Lilypaw and Pebblepaw bounded up to them with their mentors. Lilypaw looked fascinated, while Pebblepaw appeared scared out of his wits. The dappled gray apprentice blinked his big blue eyes slowly. "Will… We all have to fight like that one day?" he asked in a trembling whisper.
Snakefang replied with assurance. "All of us will fight one day. Our territory is full of danger."
Sedgepaw detected the faint scent of fear was rolling off Pebblepaw. Her amber eyes softened as she looked at him, but she refused to offer consolation for Snakefang's foreboding reply. It was true, after all. MarshClan was surrounded by enemies, and so she trained with the will to fight them all one day.
Snakefang continued, glaring at his apprentice with scrutiny. "There are beasts in the water, woods, and sky, Pebblepaw," he explained impatiently. "They prey on the weak, so MarshClan trains you to be strong."
Nodding, Sedgepaw could put names to every beast in the water and wood and sky that would do harm to a MarshClan cat. The murky water concealed alligators and pythons, and the woods harbored foxes and coyotes, and the sky was ruled by fierce hawks.
When Mothfur interjected, Sedgepaw was surprised by the calmness in his voice. "There is safety in the Clan, however. So long as you provide for the Clan, it will protect you."
Pebblepaw nodded slowly, but he did not look convinced. His little tail curled around his paws, hiding the slight tremor in his toes. "MarshClan has many enemies," he realized.
Snakefang snorted, shaking his head. "Even our own kind can be our enemy." With graveness in his tone, he explained, "There are others like us that choose not to live by Clan ideals. The Fallen. Banished from our land of plenty, they pillage our territory of prey, and if we do not learn to fight, they can easily infiltrate our camp and raid us of our kits and herbs."
Pebblepaw's eyes widened. "Aren’t they Clan cats though?"
"It doesn’t matter. They chose a life of struggle outside the grace of StarClan," Batface added, his gravelly voice just above a whisper. "They are not Clan cats anymore."
Sedgepaw exchanged a glance with Ospreypaw and nodded. They were both ready to fight off any Fallen that stepped foot on their land. Fallen were not favored by StarClan as she was, they were thieves and barbarians. Still, Sedgepaw struggled to liken the fierce Fallen to someone like Vinestripe. Her gentle, composed Clanmate would never stoop to stealing or raiding nurseries like the Fallen were said to do.
The silence that followed was uncomfortable for Sedgepaw. She glanced around at the faces of their Clanmates, seeing resignation on each of them. Bowing her head, she struggled to stomach the fate of the Fallen once more. How could anyone betray their Clan?
Molefoot piped up to break the silence. "How about we continue training?"
Ospreypaw nodded. "Climbing is next, right?"
Batface meowed,"Yes, and you will be scaling that cypress tree with Sedgepaw." He inclined his head towards the cypress they had run from before. Now, they would be tasked with climbing the titanic trunk "The apprentice that reaches the highest branch is the victor."
"Don't climb too high, though!" Molefoot added.
Weaving through the cypress knees with the group of MarshClan cats, Sedgepaw stared at the soft ground. She could feel her limbs grow heavy with fatigue. Though the freckles of sunlight that dappled the training ravine made an effort to warm her fur, she felt cold and worn. This last challenge would bring an end to her day, at least. Sedgepaw raised her chin and decided she could power through this next task seamlessly. All she would need is confidence and an insane amount of luck.
"You're not tired, are you?" Lilypaw chirped from behind. There was a taunting edge to her tone.
Sedgepaw glanced back and scoffed, "Of course not!" She felt like the new apprentice was purposefully crawling under her fur to rub her skin the wrong way. "A warrior never quits."
Batface chimed in. "Actually, a real warrior knows their limits." Though he was firm, his chiding had a lighter tone to it. He walked before them with Mothfur by his side, but the other warrior remained silent. "Warriors must learn to rely on one another. Our strength alone is not enough; we need to depend on one another to survive."
The idea of depending on someone else made Sedgepaw wrinkle her nose. She was the strongest of her littermates, the strongest of the all the apprentices, so her strength alone could help her in any battle. She narrowed her eyes at Batface and smiled. "Anyone can win a fight if they have help, but I can win my fights alone."
There was a glimmer of something in Batface's eyes. Was it disappointment? Anger? His only response was a sigh, which ended with him turning away. He did not speak again after that.
Lilypaw, however, failed to shut her mouth. "All this talk about fighting! Is that all you're good at?" She sniffed proudly. "One day, I will be good at everything! Dewpelt said so."
"Of course she did," Sedgepaw muttered. Dewpelt believed her kits could surpass anyone. It was no wonder Spiderfang was convinced they could start training early; Dewpelt did nothing but talk them up. Sedgepaw recalled the deputy constantly looming about the nursery, murmuring words of praise to her kits. Sedgepaw glared at the uppity apprentice that kept pace by her side. "You're pretty good at being a nuisance."
Lilypaw returned her glare. "You're just worried that I'll be better than you!" she retorted, sounding indignant.
Giving a laugh, Sedgepaw shook her head. "Pipe down, rookie. You've got a long ways to go before you're even close to being better than me."
"Enough squabbling," Mothfur murmured. He lashed his feathery, golden brown tail with practiced containment of his annoyance. "Instead of competing to be the best, you should be learning from one another."
"Then why even have these challenges in the first place?" Sedgepaw rebuked. "Aren't they a competition to see which of us is best?"
Mothfur merely shook his head and continued in silence. Ahead, she could see Batface's ears twitching. Sedgepaw gritted her teeth, hoping she did not embarrass her mentor by snapping at a seasoned warrior like Mothfur. Jerking her head away from Lilypaw's glare, she noticed Ospreypaw carrying on with Pebblepaw peacefully. Judging by the twinkle in Pebblepaw's blue eyes, Sedgepaw assumed her friend must have been encouraging the meek apprentice. Snakefang, walking a pace before them, did not seem too pleased by Ospreypaw's words, however, for his tail was lashing and his ears were flat. Sedgepaw wondered why Snakefang even had an apprentice; the warrior always acted like he had a furball stuck in his throat, and he was a fairly new warrior to boot.
"Okay!" Molefoot chirped. "Let's get our last challenge done, then!"
Ospreypaw bounded up to them first, and Sedgepaw approached afterward. She could feel her legs groaning when she tilted her head back to peer up at the canopy of the cypress. The tree was so tall, and she nearly fell backward trying to look up at it. Reigning in her worry, Sedgepaw rolled her shoulders in preparation.
Suddenly, she could feel Batface's stout muzzle against her ear. Sedgepaw stiffened, eyes wide, as he whispered, "Take it easy during this test. I can tell your strength is waning."
Feeling her fur bristle, Sedgepaw struggled to sustain her retort. Batface doubted her! Her amber eyes flashed with determination. She would show him… Ospreypaw would lose to her again. She would climb this tree until she reached the clouds. Shrugging away from him, Sedgepaw placed her paw on the outstretched root of the cypress, breathing in deeply.
Ospreypaw stood beside her, gazing upwards. "I wonder how high these branches reach?" she mused.
"I'm going to find out," Sedgepaw smiled with confidence, knowing it will take every ounce of energy left in her to scale this massive trunk.
"Good luck, then." Ospreypaw smiled, wiggling her haunches as she readied to spring.
"Begin!" Molefoot cried.
Ospreypaw beat Sedgepaw in her leap, and she was showered with flakes of tree bark as her friend scrambled upwards. Sedgepaw jumped after her onto the tree's trunk, her shoulders burning as her body already struggled to endure the steep incline. Releasing a shaky sigh, she gripped her unsheathed claws into the ancient bark, scaling it slowly. Shreds of cypress fell in spirals as she climbed, and Sedgepaw refused to watch their descent for fear of following suit. She could see Ospreypaw's long legs scaling up the tree slowly and grunted as she struggled to catch up. The distance between her and the ground broadened with every reach, but Sedgepaw was nowhere near the first branch. Swaying moss draped down from the first branches of the old cypress tree, waving at Sedgepaw during her ascent.
"Careful, Ospreypaw!" Pebblepaw squeaked from below.
Sedgepaw noticed her friend was shivering against the tree, and she saw the yellow gleam of Ospreypaw's eyes as she stared below. Ospreypaw looked frightened as she fixed her gaze on the roots at the foot of the tree. Sedgepaw took a break from her competitive climb, for Ospreypaw was frozen against the tree, clinging to it tighter than the green moss that cushioned the bark. Sedgepaw ignored the burning in her legs as she stared across at Ospreypaw, panting softly as she reached her.
"Ospreypaw, come on, we're almost done." Sedgepaw brushed her thick tail against hers, which was trembling. "Let's just get to the first branch and head down."
Ospreypaw nodded slowly, wordlessly, and resumed her climb. Sedgepaw smiled and joined her. They climbed side-by-side, and Sedgepaw realized this was what Batface and Mothfur meant; the comradery of helping one another and overcoming a challenge together with her Clanmate made the obstacles less intimidating. Once the two apprentices reached the lanky arms of the cypress, Sedgepaw giggled when Ospreypaw hustled onto the branch with wide eyes. She stood at the broad base of it, where the moss collected to dangle, and wrapped her black tail around her shivering paws.
"You did it!" Sedgepaw cheered, still clinging to the tree trunk.
"I did… I made it," Ospreypaw muttered in disbelief. "Thank you, Sedgepaw."
Smiling, Sedgepaw nodded to her friend. However, instead of remaining with her on the first branch, she continued her ascent. She could hear Ospreypaw's gasp of surprise when Sedgepaw resumed her climb. The number of outstretched branches grew as she rose, shading Sedgepaw from the sun as she neared the sky.
"Sedgepaw, wait! That's too high! You're going to high!" Ospreypaw yowled after her.
"Don't worry about me, Ospreypaw! I'm not scared." Sedgepaw was reenergized by seeing her friend overcome her fear, and she was able to abandon her fears as well. Her body was tired, but her determination did not dwindle. Instead of petering out at the first branch, Sedgepaw decided to could go on and on until she reached the clouds. "Go ahead down!" she called to Ospreypaw. "Tell Batface I'll be the one to touch the sky!"
"Sedgepaw, no!" Ospreypaw protested.
Sedgepaw ignored the cries of her friend, which were followed by the protests of her Clanmates. They all stared up at her in disbelief and admiration, but Sedgepaw did not stop to bask in their stares, she pulled herself upward. She could feel the ripple of her muscles as they worked and the thunderous beat of her heart as the breeze whistling through the treetops caught her long, mottled brown fur. Sedgepaw's tail ruffled in the wind with the moss, and her claws snagged a narrow branch. She was high enough to be surrounded by the thinnest, newest branches that grew out of the towering cypress. When she climbed onto the highest branch, Sedgepaw was rewarded with a view of MarshClan's territory. The swamp and pine forest neighbored each other, and the silhouettes of flying snowy egrets mirrored the fluffy white clouds that floated across the pale blue sky. She gasped in awe when she saw the lake where camp was located, for the sun was captured in its center, glittering in the rippling reflection.
"The view is amazing up here!" she told them.
The only response was from Batface, but the howling wind that rummaged through the treetops drowned out his words. Sedgepaw sighed, feeling the wind in her fur. Her eyes grazed the skyline, and she drank in the sight of the river winding through the pine forest. It ventured parallel to the horizon, where the sun rose, and Sedgepaw wondered what roamed beyond the river boundary. It was there where the Fallen supposedly lived in permanent exile, ostracized from MarshClan's territory. She could see the pine forest thin out into a dense field spotted with large oak trees and birch trees, and she could not help but imagine the many cats living out there, forgotten. Perhaps the strange cat from before was among them?
Another yowl from Batface prompted Sedgepaw to gaze down from the branch she rested on. With a sigh, she realized she could not remain on her perch forever. It was time to return to her Clanmates. Her white toes kneaded the tree bark as she warmed up for her descent. However, movement in her periphery caught her attention. Below, on the riverbank, the ferns were rustling. Sedgepaw turned her head to decipher what could be making such a ruckus. Suddenly, a cat emerged from the reeds on her side of the river. It was the same pale brown tabby from before, but this time, they were on MarshClan territory. Sedgepaw stiffened, for those bright green eyes were locked onto her once more. Trespasser!
"You-!" Sedgepaw cried out to the cat, but a tremor from the branch strangled her words. The thin arm did not tolerate her jerking reaction to the intruder well, and the entire branch shifted with a groan. The droopy leaves of the cypress hissed menacingly, and Sedgepaw clung to the branch for dear life. "StarClan, help me!"
The cat watched her struggle, silently staring as she yowled in terror. Sedgepaw had glanced at the mysterious tabby before the branch gave way. The last image in her head was the cryptic tabby's face, with the penetrating, pale green eyes, before she was greeted by the sound of a crash, followed by darkness, then pain.
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Post by phantomstar57 on Mar 2, 2019 13:49:38 GMT -5
Yes looks great on my desktop! Hopefully my lappie will comply :-)
I LOVE the photo illustrations.
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 3, 2019 14:50:39 GMT -5
CHAPTER FIVE: THE COVENANT OF WORKS YOUR DAY WILL COME
MUFFLED, murmurs caused Sedgepaw to stir. As she rustled, she could feel a sharp pang against her side, which resulted in her bolting upward in surprise. Her rapid movement only caused the pain to become more severe in her side, and she let out a sharp gasp as it gripped her lungs and restricted her breathing to pained gulps. The dark den around her was blurry, and her amber eyes darted around in dazed panic. Where am I? What happened?
“Easy does it, Sedgepaw,” a deep voice rasped beside her. The sharp scent of herbs and marigold wafted around her, and Sedgepaw recognized the voice as Redleaf’s. She was in the medicine den, his den.
Glancing to her side, she slowly focused on his stocky frame. She was familiar with his deep, golden eyes and thick, dark ginger fur, and his look of concern made her stiffen. Why am I here? She felt short of breath, for every inhale stabbed into her chest in an attempt to impale her weak lungs. Sedgepaw struggled not to panic as she felt a dull ache in her head grow more apparent while her vision sluggishly cleared. She tried to stand, wanting to get some answers fervently, but Redleaf’s big paw pressed softly against her shoulder. His golden eyes glowed with sympathy, and Sedgepaw’s stomach lurched. Why is he looking at me like that?
“You need to settle down,” Redleaf advised. “You’re still recovering.”
“Recovering from what?” she rasped, breathing shakily.
Redleaf smiled ruefully as Sedgepaw settled back into her mossy nest. “You took a nasty fall from the Great Cypress. You’ve been unconscious for almost a day now.” His explanation did not comfort her in the slightest; in fact, Sedgepaw was more alarmed because she could not remember a damn thing. “You’ll recover without difficulty,” Redleaf promised, “but you need to relax.”
Sedgepaw’s eyes darted around the medicine den nervously. The strong aroma of marigold surrounded her, sickly sweet, meant to mask the stench of blood and sickness from the patients of the past. The bur marigold stems hugged one another, creating a fortress of green stalks and yellow blossoms. Above, the den was sheltered by a thick roof of soft-stem bulrush; they overhung from within the margold, shading the den and reinforcing the sweetness in the air with a thick collection of orange flowers at their tips. Sedgepaw curled her white toes anxiously. She found no solace in the flowery walls and friendly face of Redleaf..
Redleaf must have sensed her apprehension, for he caressed her rigid spine with his short, fluffy tail. “Calm down, Sedgepaw,” he soothed.
“I--I don’t remember what happened.” Her mind was blank.
“That’s common for an injury like yours.” Redleaf stood and walked slowly towards an old leaf sheath that a palm tree must have shed moons ago; it was forked like a rattlesnake’s tongue, and the russet edges of it were frayed into thin, intertwining hairs. The thick, wooden peticle cradled various piles of herbs that Sedgepaw did not recognize. “You could have been much worse off, but your fall only resulted in bruised ribs and a mild concussion.”
“Only? That sounds pretty dangerous to me.” Sedgepaw did not even know what a concussion was, let alone what it meant, or how long it would take to heal. The buzz of questions in her head made it pound, and she flattened her ears as she struggled to withstand the pain.
Redleaf nodded, dexterously pawing through the collection of herbs that rested on the old leaf base. His eyes were pensive and narrow as he studied each medicinal plant intensely. “Not to worry, Sedgepaw. I’ll have you on your paws in a few days.”
“Days?!” Sedgepaw exclaimed, ignoring the pain in her side when she shouted. “I can’t! I will be set back in my training.”
“You’ll do whatever it takes to recover.” Batface’s voice sounded outside the den, where the sunlight was oddly dim and fog stalked the entrance.
Redleaf’s ears perked when he heard Batface’s response, and an amused smile crossed his face. “Are you still pacing out there?”
Sedgepaw narrowed her eyes, unable to see her mentor’s dusky black pelt within the fog outside. He was pacing? Sedgepaw wondered if her mentor was pacing with worry or frustration. The latter seemed most likely. She ducked her head sadly. He was probably disappointed in her for losing training time in recovery. Falling sounded like a silly way to hurt herself, Batface must have been livid with her stupidity.
Her mentor hesitated before replying again. “N-no, of course not! I don’t have time to waste loitering outside your den; I was merely stopping by to check on my apprentice,” he explained in a rush.
Sedgepaw smiled at his frazzled tone; he was probably spitting in his haste to explain himself. Even if he was upset with her, she found comfort in his voice. When he appeared, the senior warrior glanced at her, and Sedgepaw thought she saw a glimmer of relief in his expression. He turned towards Redleaf before she could decide whether or not she was imagining it.
Redleaf did not sound convinced. “Sure, sure, that would make the most sense.” He did not flinch when Batface stalked towards him with a grumble. “Temper yourself, Batface,” Redleaf warned. “You’ll disturb your precious apprentice’s recovery.”
Sedgepaw noticed Batface’s stocky shoulders stiffen. She doubted she was his “precious apprentice,” but the idea made her giggle. When she laughed, her mentor turned to her with a stern look on his broad face. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Sedgepaw squeaked, trying to hold back another laugh when Redleaf chuckled too.
“Can’t a mentor check on his apprentice without being harassed?” Batface protested.
Redleaf pressed his nose to Batface’s scarred cheek and smiled. “She’s just as healthy as she was when you checked on her last,” he assured the frazzled warrior.
Perking her ears, Sedgepaw wondered when Batface last saw her. How frequently did he visit while she was unconscious? Her amber eyes grew wide with the notion that her mentor may not be angry with her at all, but honestly worried. She felt warmth blossom in her chest at the possibility.
“Well, she wasn’t awake when I saw her last,” Batface countered. “So I venture to say she’s healthier.”
“I feel fine!” Sedgepaw agreed, though the den around her blurred when she stood. “I should be able to go out and train now. Thanks for your help, Redleaf.” As she took a step out of her mossy nest, however, the world around her seemed to shift and slant; her confused, unsteady paws betrayed her mid-step and she stumbled like a newborn fawn.
“You aren’t going anywhere.” Batface was by her side in a heartbeat, helping her to her paws with a nudge. The rasp in his voice was smoother as he let her balance on his side. “Once you are fully recovered, we can train as normal.”
Sedgepaw rolled into her nest with a grumble. She rested her chin on her paws and drew out a sigh, accepting the reality of her imprisonment. As her mentor said, she would not be able to leave for training without a complete recovery. Days… Days wasted. Sedgepaw wanted to screech her frustration to StarClan, but the tightness in her lungs kept her silent.
Redleaf hovered over her, rasping his tongue across her ear reassuringly. “We are only doing what’s best for you, Sedgepaw,” he reasoned.
The sight of Batface moving to leave the den made her heart sink. “Listen to Redleaf,” Batface added scoldingly. “What he lacks in guts he makes up for in knowledge.” A chuckle resonated from his chest as he left, entering the fog that lingered outside, disappearing.
“He’s a piece of work…” Redleaf muttered, and Sedgepaw nodded fondly. She still felt warmth in her heart for the rare gesture of kindness Batface displayed.
Fatigue caused her eyelids to droop with the weight of longing she had for sleep. However, she could not settle in the comfort of her moss bedding. She ached for sleep to rush her healing, but her mind warned her of what darkness lingered in her dreams. The last time Sedgepaw willingly slept, her dreams were haunted with visions of dead cats and a bloody river. Shivering, Sedgepaw curled up in her nest and prayed to StarClan for a seamless sleep.
Hope for rest was shattered when Fernstream barged in like a startled doe. Her long, muted brown fur was bristling, and her face was the epitome of concern when she regarded Sedgepaw with her green gaze. Fernstream rushed her with licks and nuzzles, and Sedgepaw could only squeal and squirm in protest. Her mother’s scent was comforting, but her forceful affection made her chest pound in protest.
“You’re awake!” Fernstream purred. “Oh, you’re awake!”
“Of--of course!” Sedgepaw replied, grunting as her mother’s licks raked feverishly against the top of her sore head. When she finished, Sedgepaw was sure her fur was sticking up like a quail’s plume. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Redleaf approached her in an instant, gently brushing Fernstream off his patient with a sigh. “Fernstream, she is still recovering. Please, give her space.”
“You fell from the top of the Great Cypress, Sedgepaw!” Fernstream exclaimed in panicked frustration. “Do you not remember? I mean, how mousebrained can you be?! Climbing to the top of the Great Cypress like that...You could have died!”
Though Redleaf tried his best to maintain a barrier between Sedgepaw and her erratic mother, it felt like her distressed meows were sounding right into her ear canal. Squeezing her eyes shut, Sedgepaw tried to drown out her anxious rambles, which seemed to travel through her ears straight to her head, where they pounded against her skull like a hatchling trying to break from its fragile eggshell. Redleaf’s murmurs of consolation failed to qualm Fernstream, and she only seemed to grow more irritated as time passed. Sedgepaw tried to piece together what she was saying. She fell from the top of the Great Cypress? The thought was absurd. No one ever climbed that high. However, an image of a bird’s-eye view of the territory flashed in her mind, and Sedgepaw began to believe there was truth to Fernstream’s words.
“Fernstream, I implore you, lower your voice,” Redleaf continued to try and calm her down. “Sedgepaw needs peace if she is to heal properly.”
Opening her eyes slowly, Sedgepaw heard her mother give a shaky sigh and grow silent. As if regaining her composure, she spoke with the utmost solemnity. “How is she coming along, then?”
Sedgepaw saw a smile of relief cross Redleaf’s broad face. “Very well, actually. She should be back out and training in a few days.”
“Good…” Fernstream wrapped her plume-like tail around her paws as she took a seat. Her green eyes were downcast, and her face did not convey the slightest hint of satisfaction at Redleaf’s words. Sedgepaw felt her chest tighten. She felt as if she harmed her mother more than herself in the incident. Never before had she seen her mother more worried than now.
“I’ve given her a concoction of lavender and mint to help relax her and tame her headaches.” Redleaf replied somewhat robotically, as if he had recited that same explanation several times already.
“Not primrose?” Fernstream pressed. “For bruising and muscles pain?” She edged closer, eyes wide. “Or perhaps greenbriar? Did you rub it against her chest to ease the soreness?”
“I know how to do my job, Fernstream,” Redleaf replied in a clipped tone. He eyed her warily. “I do not want to mix too many different herbs when she is responding to the ones I started her on well enough.”
“I want to make sure she is being properly taken care of,” Fernstream asserted.
“I understand.” Redleaf seemed to be growing agitated; Sedgepaw did not recall him ever sounding so stern. “But that is not your duty. Do not question me.”
Sedgepaw was still confused as to why her mother seemed to know so much about herbs. If her suggestions were accurate, something to ease the pain in her chest sounded delightful. Why was Redleaf so unreceptive? In the midst of her pondering, an image of a pale brown tabby with mangled shoulders flashed through her mind’s eye. That’s right! Sedgepaw bolted upward abruptly, causing Redleaf and Fernstream to leap to her side.
“Sedgepaw? What is it?” Redleaf prompted.
“Are you in pain?” Fernstream pressed.
“I remember… a cat,” she began. “When I was at the top of the Great Cypress… I saw a strange cat. And before, I saw them before, when I was at the river’s edge. A strange cat, one I’ve never seen before.”
Fernstream and Redleaf exchanged confused glances. Fernstream pressed her nose to Sedgepaw’s ear. “Sedgepaw… You hit your head hard. I’m sure there are memories that got mixed up, and you probably won’t be able to recollect certain things properly for a little while.”
“Yes,” Redleaf agreed. “Your concussion has inflicted you with temporary amnesia, but it’ll pass as you heal. What you recall now is likely a figment of your confused memory and imagination.”
“I know what I saw!” Sedgepaw bristled and looked away from them. They thought she was crazy, but the more she dwelled on it, the gravity of the strange cat became clear; they were real and they trespassed. The recollection of those ghastly green eyes made Sedgepaw tremble. “They trespassed, I saw.”
Redleaf and Fernstream exchanged another glance, and Redleaf sighed softly. “Perhaps another dosage?”
“That’d be best,” Fernstream murmured.
Sedgepaw watched warily as Redleaf whisked away to the far side of the medicine den. When he returned, his mouth carried a bundle of herbs. Setting them at his paws, he gazed down at Sedgepaw warmly. “This mixture of mint leaves and lavender will help you relax. The best remedy is rest.”
Wrinkling her nose, Sedgepaw turned her head defiantly away from the herbs. “I can sleep on my own.”
Fernstream grumbled sternly, nudging Sedgepaw’s cheek. “It’ll help you sleep better on your own.” She gazed up at Redleaf, extending her paw to the pile of herbs. “Please, allow me.”
Redleaf hesitated before sighing, pushing the herbs toward her wordlessly.
Sedgepaw tilted her head questioningly. Fernstream was a warrior not a medicine cat. And yet, she effortlessly held the leaves on her paw, bringing the other to gently squash the tender fibrous herbs together. Sedgepaw’s ears flicked in surprise as she watched her mother dexterously mash the mint leaves together, the moisture that was once trapped in their green veins squished softly and released a sharp, fresh aroma. Faint sweetness filled the air as the pale purple lavender petals were added to the mix. Redleaf stood be his herb stores, which were framed by shreds of lemongrass to keep pests out, he seemed distracted as he pawed at the clumps of grass; then, Sedgepaw noticed the melancholy gleam in Redleaf’s eyes. She could not help but wonder what her mother’s relationship with the old medicine cat was.
As Fernstream conjured the poultice, there was a rustle at the entrance to the medicine den, and Heronpaw appeared with a mouthful of fresh herbs. The blue tabby tom regarded Redleaf with a respectful nod, but when his blue eyes rested on Fernstream, Sedgepaw noticed him visibly stiffen. His long legs carried him swiftly to the herb store of the den, and he materialized by Fernstream’s side in a heartbeat, his eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t realize Fernstream was playing medicine cat today,” he observed dryly.
“Ferstream’s paws are smaller than mine. They can knead the leaves together into a richer poultice, whereas I would just blend the leaves into a thin residue.” Redleaf was unphased by his apprentice’s sour tone, and Fernstream carried on as if the miffed apprentice was not even there.
“Heronpaw,” Fernstream murmured, “had you been here, I’m sure Redleaf would have tasked you with making the poultice for Sedgepaw.”
Heronpaw lashed his tail wordlessly and stared sharply at Sedgepaw. She matched his glare, but she failed to understand why he seemed agitated. The apprentice was usually very accommodating like his mentor.
“Why do you look like you swallowed mousebile?” Sedgepaw teased, making Heronpaw flatten his ears.
“Here,” Fernstream urged, holding her paw before Sedgepaw’s nose as if to prevent her daughter from making another goading comment. “Eat.”
Sedgepaw made a face before grudgingly lapping up the poultice. When the concoction hit her tongue, her face spasmed in disgust. “Ugh! Are you trying to make me lose my appetite?”
Redleaf and Fernstream chuckled, but Heronpaw rolled his eyes. “The mixture of mint and lavender is meant to induce sleep and promote relaxation in the muscles.” He recited the purpose of the poultice effortlessly just as a bird would its song. “And I found roots from the cardinal flower tree to apply to her head if her headache worsens.”
Heronpaw behaved so dutifully, Sedgepaw almost forgot about his tempestuous entrance. Redleaf dipped his chin to his apprentice appreciatively. “Sedgepaw may need that after she’s rested some more. Combining remedies is risky.”
Heronpaw flattened his ears testily, but his tone was icily calm. “I know that. I just wanted you to know we have it.” He bowed his head and gave Fernstream a pointed stare. “As the medicine cat apprentice, it’s my duty.”
The silence that followed was accompanied by suffocating tension. Though Sedgepaw had a paw in dreamland, she was not immune to the oppressive atmosphere wafting around the cats like a storm threatening to break. Her mind was too foggy to perceive the reason behind the unease. All she could do was bear with the discomfort of the pressure in the air, which seemed ready to collapse on them all when Fernstream stood with a lash of her tail.
“I’ll be excusing myself now,” she announced coldly. Sedgepaw felt a brisk lick scrape across her snout, and Fernstream’s warm scent washed over her. “I’ll check on you in the evening.” Her whisper seemed far away, echoing from a distance.
Redleaf cleared his throat as the she-cat made her way towards the entrance. “Actually, I need to speak with you.”
Fernstream paused. “Oh?”
“Yes, in private,” Redleaf added. Her flicked his tail at Heronpaw. “My lemongrass is becoming wilted. Go fetch more fresh stalks, please, before the bugs catch on.”
Heronpaw merely flicked as his mentor spoke, grooming his forearm with practiced licks. Though he was quiet, Sedgepaw could see the rigidity in his frame as he was dismissed once more. Standing on his tall legs, Heronpaw nodded and whisked out of the den, but not before flashing Fernstream with one final glare. “I’ll be back in the evening,” he murmured.
Sedgepaw felt like she was walking in on a story halfway through; there were missing pieces to these relationships. As Fernstream stepped into the shadows of the far side of the medicine den, she felt her head become heavy and her muscles unwind. The concoction she consumed burbled in her belly, and her limbs felt warm.
“Sleep well, Sedgepaw,” Redleaf murmured before following after her mother.
The edges of her vision grew blurry as Sedgepaw struggled to focus on the medicine cat and her mother. Ears perked, she listened in on their conversation in secret. Their hushed murmurs rose from the darkness ethereally, fading into the air so fast she struggled to catch the words. It was only when their conversation seemed to grow a shade darker in intensity that she began to hear what was being said.
“All I am suggesting is that this could be a sign.” Redleaf’s voice was stern once more, almost frustrated.
“You’re suggesting more than that.” Her mother’s hiss was harsh. “StarClan is trying to take them from me.”
Sedgepaw’s ears twitched. StarClan? Taking who… Me? She felt her blood turn to ice. No, there’s no way that’s what they meant. She was a good apprentice. Why would StarClan want her gone?
“As they should,” Redleaf argued. “You know the prophecy. StarClan warned you; They warned us both, and did not heed Them.”
“I’ll not be having this discussion with you again, Redleaf.” Her mother sounded scared. “I made my choice. StarClan allowed me to give birth to them. You cannot tell me They can be so cruel as to take them away?”
So they were speaking of her? And what’s worse? Her and her siblings. Sedgepaw felt her blood run cold. StarClan wanted her dead? She fidgeted in her nest, pelt prickling with unease. The weight of divine justice grew heavy on her; she felt like her ribs would collapse at the idea of her holy ancestors condemning her since birth. Sedgepaw could only wonder… why?
“You underestimate Them.” Redleaf’s tone was grave. “You had a destiny.”
Fernstream laughed ruefully. “A destiny,” she muttered bitterly. “I never wanted to be you, Redleaf. I wanted my own life. I fell in love. I could never be the medicine cat you wanted me to be.”
“You misunderstand!” Redleaf snapped. Fury painted his voice in angry hues of crimson. “Your life is not yours to live! Just as my life is not mine to live. StarClan chooses our destiny, and we are born to accept it and fulfill our purpose. By betraying Their dominion you have doomed yourself and your family.” A hiss escaped him, but his voice grew hoarse and tired, so much so that his words almost gave out in the end. “It was never what I wanted. It’s always been what They wanted. It always will be.”
Blood like ice in her veins, Sedgepaw’s heart hammered painfully inside her chest. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed for sleep to save her from hearing such monstrous claims. StarClan did not want her alive. Could it be that she was never meant to be born? Please, let this just be a bad dream… please.
“I love my family,” Fernstream murmured. “If that is a crime in the eyes of StarClan, so be it. I can be doomed to oblivion, but I will never regret my choice.”
“Then you are a fool,” Redleaf hissed. “You know the prophecy. Your kits should have never been born.”
Fernstream growled and Sedgepaw stiffened when she heard a struggle erupt in the shadows. An exchange of hisses and thuds caused the marigold to shiver. Though every muscle in her body screamed to come to the aid of her mother, her body was frozen and numb; between the shock of the words being said and the strength of her medicine, Sedgepaw was rendered helpless. Suddenly, the disturbance stopped, and Sedgepaw could hear heavy breathing between the two cats.
“Forgive me,” Fernstream mewed shakily. “I did not mean to strike you.”
“No matter,” Redleaf grunted. “It is not my forgiveness you should covet. There is only one divine judge you should fear.”
Sedgepaw promptly shut her eyes when she saw Fernstream emerge from the shadows. She placed one paw purposefully above her eye, peeking from beneath it so she could see the rest of this exchange unfold. Her heart sank when she saw the fatigue and fear in her mother’s face, and she felt her stomach do flips in her belly when Redleaf emerged to shadow her. He looked so angry. Sedgepaw never knew Redleaf could even muster such rage.
“I am resigned to my fate,” Fernstream decided. “Do not speak to me again about this, Redleaf.”
“You may have accepted your fate, but have your kits?” Redleaf suggested. Sedgepaw could feel his gaze singe her fur. “They were never given the option. StarClan giveth and taketh away.”
Sedgepaw could hear the pawsteps of Fernstream as she exited the den. As silence settled in the atmosphere, Sedgepaw could hardly breathe. She was never meant to be born. Her mother was supposed to be a medicine cat… but she chose a life with a family. Sedgepaw felt as small as an ant as her role in the cosmos became grimly clear.
As if to accentuate her existential dread, Redleaf murmured a prophetic hymn: “The birth of three who were not meant to be will give rise to revolution.”
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 3, 2019 14:52:28 GMT -5
Thank you phantomstar57. I wish I could take credit for them, but only the writing is mine ahaha
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Post by phantomstar57 on Mar 3, 2019 16:16:57 GMT -5
Thank you phantomstar57 . I wish I could take credit for them, but only the writing is mine ahaha LOL Still they are great! Oh and on my Surface Pro everything lines up nice too. So once I get my new glasses adjusted I'll be able to read fics again.
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 7, 2019 11:56:35 GMT -5
Chapter 6 will be posted soon!
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 7, 2019 23:27:54 GMT -5
CHAPTER SIX: OPEN OLD WOUNDS GIVE IN AND GET OUT
KALEIDOSCOPIC images paraded Sedgepaw’s vision, creating a pattern of reds, oranges, and yellows. It was like the sunset had been shattered into dozens of pieces, which rained down before Sedgepaw’s eyes with the vividity of an inferno. A caterwaul ripped through the air, and suddenly her vision, which was a tourbillion of colors, cleared to reveal a campestral plain of dry grasses that swayed against a stiff, hot breeze. A large oak tree grew centerfold in the sandhills, and it cast a monstrous shadow over the grasses, for behind it was the simmering, scarlet form of the setting sun.
Peeling away from the tree’s shadow were dozens of cats. They gazed at Sedgepaw with eyes that shone like tiny moons. However, unlike the grandiose oak, the cats did not produce shadows of their own. Among them, Sedgepaw recognized the slender frame and spiralling tabby markings of Vinestripe. He broke away from the line of cats gazing at her to approach her, and Sedgepaw felt her fur stand on end when she gazed up into the luminescent depths of his eyes. She felt like all the knowledge of the stars and beyond was cradled inside his alabaster gaze.
“The sun will set on us unless we rise.”
His words started as a whisper, but then they were followed by a chorus from the cats behind him. They all told Sedgepaw the same thing. Again and again, the spectral cats chanted, while Sedgepaw could only gawk in her struggle to understand what was happening.
“What does this mean!?” she yowled. “Wait!”
When she spoke, the figures started to fade away. From either end, the cats faded out of sight like fog forced to dissipate. Only Vinestripe remained, and Sedgepaw lunged for him, hoping she could stop him from leaving her in confusion like the others. Instead, her paws pierced through him as if he were nothing but a cloud; he vanished with the sun, which set behind the horizon, leaving Sedgepaw in the dark.
Only his whisper remained, “Rise.”
Sedgepaw gazed around the quiet territory in peril, left to ponder the gravity of this message. Her panicked gasps were drowned out by the distant sound of arguing. It rattled at her feet, coming from the ground up, splitting the earth in a fissure of blackness. Sedgepaw helplessly fell into it, and she woke in her mossy nest.
“Hm?” She gazed around in confusion as her eyes struggled to focus. Sedgepaw felt trapped in a translucent, gelatinous bubble, which prevented her from interacting with the world around her by distorting her sight, making everything a coagulated blur.
Heronpaw’s stony voice resounded first. “It was just a velleity to her.” She heard the rustle of him fumbling through herbs, and a grunt of frustration as the piles hit the ground. “Why do you continue to treat her as if she has a say in our work?” The iciness of his tone bordered on breaking into boiling resentment.
“She vied for apprenticeship on more than just a whim, Heronpaw,” Redleaf explained calmly. “But StarClan had other plans… Her decision does not make her knowledge useless to me.”
“It was not a decision. It was a mistake,” Heronpaw hissed bitingly. “I am willing to bet my tail that if she did not have them, she would still be here.” It was quiet, and Sedgepaw felt a pit of despair blossom inside her belly, curling its roots into her intestines, making her feel sick. They were talking about Fernstream. Memories of the day before assaulted her, and Sedgepaw felt existential dread return to take its place in her wary heart.
And yet, Sedgepaw could not figure out why Redleaf seemed to be defending her mother. Before, it seemed Redleaf was hellbent on dooming her mother to eternal damnation. Now, it seemed that he vouched for her character.
“You would probably prefer that… huh? You’d rather have her here.”
“Hush, Heronpaw.” Redleaf’s voice rose an octave, and Sedgepaw realized Heronpaw must have struck a nerve. “You know nothing about that which you speak. Why must you let her disquiet you?”
“Because I know if she were your apprentice, she would be a medicine cat by now!” Heronpaw snapped. “Instead, you have me, and you assign me to grunt work like a damned six-moon-old greenhorn. I have been by your side since she surrendered her position, but I am still seen as nothing but an apprentice.”
“Heronpaw, you'll wake Sedgepaw if you keep this up,” Redleaf warned in a strained whisper. “Enough.”
Sedgepaw’s sight finally focused, and she wished it hadn’t. The heartbreaking disappointment on Heronpaw’s face was something she would not want to remember. His blue eyes were downcast, and his voice was barely above a whisper. “You don’t even deny it.”
“Heronpaw…”
“No!” Heronpaw snapped again, his eyes gleaming with pain. “I don’t want to hear your sympathy. If anything, you should be bestowing it on that apprentice.” Sedgepaw stiffened when Heronpaw’s tail flicked in her direction.
Sedgepaw squeezed her eyes shut when Heronpaw turned to leave, not wanting them to know she was eavesdropping again. She felt her chest tighten with the overload of information she was cursed with in this forsaken den of marigold. What was worse, she had no power to escape it. These walls were her prison until she recovered. Sedgepaw feared she would go mad before then. When she opened her eyes again, she realized her expression must have mirrored Redleaf’s: hopelessness.
Redleaf was silent for a long time, staring out the mouth of his den. Sedgepaw could not help but wonder what he was thinking. The life of a medicine cat was no easy one. Not only did they have to abandon all earthly ties, they had the pressure of speaking for StarClan, and choosing the next leader for MarshClan as well as their own successor. Without them, MarshClan was lost. Sedgepaw did not envy him. However, she failed to respect him; after all, the manner in which he condemned her own mother was inexcusable. Even if the medicine cat saved her life, he simultaneously doomed her mother’s.
Rising to her paws, Sedgepaw decided it was time to make her consciousness clear. She cleared her throat hesitantly, prompting Redleaf to look her way. She refrained from shivering under his golden gaze. No longer could she look to him as a holy healer; he was something more. The prophecy he murmured in the den the day before rattled her to the bone. She only managed a tiny smile his way.
“Good morning,” he rumbled, returning her smile warmly. Still, Sedgepaw could only recall his glower from before. She struggled to swallow as he approached. “Did you sleep well?”
“Y-yeah.” She chuckled nervously. “Like the dead.” Ew, bad pun… She shivered at the thought.
“Are you okay?” Redleaf asked, tilting his head with concern.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Sedgepaw tried to remain calm as the stocky ginger tomcat came closer. His gaze was locked on hers and he mumbled to himself before backing away.
“Your pupils appear normal,” he observed. “How are your ribs feeling?”
“Only a little sore. Nowhere near as bad as before.”
For the most part, that was true. Sedgepaw only ached when making abrupt movements, but she refused to tell Redleaf that. The sooner she got out of his den, the better. As an extension of StarClan, Redleaf could very well want her dead just as much as They did. They want me dead… The realization made Sedgepaw’s heart shatter into a million pieces, leaving a gaping hole in her chest. What was worse, she didn’t even do anything to incite Their condemnation. She merely inherited her pending demise.
Redleaf’s mutter brought her back to reality, “Very well. Since your concussion seems to have waned, I will not restrict you to bedrest.” Sedgepaw smiled, ears perked. “However,” he continued. “I cannot let you return to training just yet. Light duty is best, for now, and you are not to leave camp without an escort. You’re not strong enough to fight off any potential danger.”
It was good enough for Sedgepaw. So long as she was free from Redleaf’s den, she was happy. Getting to her paws, Sedgepaw practically ran for the exit to camp, but Redleaf stood before her with an imposing expression.
“Easy,” he grumbled. “I did not formally dismiss you yet.”
Sedgepaw stared into his eyes, her heart beginning to pound. What other secrets were harbored in the golden depths of his glare? Had he already forseen her death? Time seemed to pass at a snail’s pace as they were deadlocked in an unbreaking stare. Redleaf’s smile turned the tense atmosphere rosy as he chuckled.
“You need to have your medicine first!” he chirped.
Sedgepaw sighed with relief. “Oh, right, of course.”
As he turned to his herb store, she felt relief overcome her. She wanted to see her family, particularly her mother. If they were all doomed to die, they had to cherish what time was left. The sharp scent of mint and lavender returned, and Sedgepaw’s nose wrinkled as Redleaf delivered her potion on a broad mangrove leaf. Smiling sheepishly, she lapped up the mixture and swallowed it whole, coughing. Just get me out of here.
Redleaf nodded, satisfied. “I’ll be seeing you this evening then.”
Sedgepaw nodded and hurried out to camp. She felt like she could breathe easy now that she was free from the overpowering stench of marigold. As she gazed around at the faces of her Clanmates, she was greeted by warm smiles and encouraging head-nods. It seemed they all had anticipated her return to Clan life. And yet, she could not relish their silent welcomes, for within she knew if they knew about the prophecy surrounding her birth, they would want her dead.
Give rise to revolution. What could it mean? Sedgepaw sat, soaking in the sunlight, seeking solace in its warmth. It was mid-morning; most of the Clan was out in the territory, hunting, patrolling, training, those that stayed behind would be saddled with duty during the evening or night shifts. She gazed at her Clanmates as they went about their lives. Egretsong was laughing with her littermates, Gingerstep, Zinniablossom, and Sandthroat. Meanwhile, Toadpaw was tending to the elders’ bedding as they lay in the sunlight, swapping stories of their youth while Pebblepaw and Lilypaw groomed their pelts for ticks. Claytooth was entering the nursery with a mouse, likely feeding his mate, Hollyfoot, while his son, Foxkit, danced around his legs.
Could Sedgepaw really be destined to ruin this? The meaning of revolution hung heavy in her heart. She did not feel the spark of passion for change, but when she saw Minnowtail resting alone in the shade of the Fallen Cypress, she felt her chest tighten. Before, he would be sharing tongues with Vinestripe at this time. Vinestripe… Sedgepaw remembered the vision she had of him in the forest, bloodied and beaten, and her resolve began to tremble like a leaf. She felt like she was being pulled in several different directions, and no matter how she stood, she would never not feel the pain of being yanked the other way. She wanted to just give up and break. Seeing her mother leave the medicine den with such sorrow the night before… with her being the cause of it. Maybe Redleaf was right? Maybe she should never have been born?
“Sedgepaw!” From across the clearing, near the lake that flanked camp, Mudpaw burst from the reeds. “You’re free!” His bright green eyes glowed as he ran to her.
Seeing his sheer joy, Sedgepaw smiled. How could she think of oblivion when it meant her own siblings would be doomed too? “Of course I’m free,” she asserted. “You think a little fall is going to keep me down?”
Mudpaw laughed. ”Little?” Mudpaw shook his head. “The whole Clan has been talking about you! No one’s been able to climb to the top of the Great Cypress and live since… like… ever!”
“Really?” Sedgepaw’s ears perked with interest.
“Yeah” Mudpaw beamed. “That and how mousebrained it was of you to do it.”
Sedgepaw’s face soured as Mudpaw laughed. She shrugged him off as he tried to affectionately rub his head against her shoulder. “Well, I lived, so I couldn’t be that mousebrained.”
“Yeah, but you may not be so lucky next time.” Mudpaw’s tone grew more serious.
Sedgepaw gazed at him quizzically. He never sounded this way. The darkness in her brother’s eyes betrayed his worry, and Sedgepaw felt her heart break once more as she realized how cruel their damnation was. How could StarClan want someone like Mudpaw, so full of spirit and compassion, dead?
“You had us worried,” Mudpaw went on, growing fidgety under Sedgepaw’s curious stare. “For a moment there, I thought you might be… Well…”
Sedgepaw didn’t let him finish. She nuzzled her brother’s neck as a purr erupted loudly from her throat. “I get it, I get it.” She leaned back away from him and smiled fondly. “I’m sorry.”
Their tender moment was short-lived, for the rotten stench of fear spilled from the marsh, rolling into camp like a dense fog that threatened to strangle the Clan cats of their peaceful morning routines. Sedgepaw narrowed her eyes as the wall of sawgrass began to rustle and a patrol of cats broke from the shadows, fur bristling and eyes wide.
Leading the flustered clutch of cats was Grayjaw; his permanent scowl appeared fiercer than ever and his yellow eyes glowed with an unsettling thirst for blood. Not far behind, Kiteclaw materialized. The scent of blood tainted the air, and Sedgepaw noticed the gray tabby was speckled with blood across the white fur on her face and shoulders. It did not belong to her. Loud crashing noises sounded from the brush and a bloodcurdling caterwaul broke the stunned silence within the Clan. Grunts and growls thundered from the shadows where Otternose and Fogspots emerged, struggling to drag an elderly tortoiseshell she-cat from the sawgrass. Her pelt was matted with clumps of peat bog and she reeked of blood and starvation.
Sedgepaw’s fur stood on end as she she-cat wildly flailed her limbs, claws unsheathed, at her Clanmates as they mercilessly yanked her to the center of the clearing by her hackles. She could see the gleam of terror in the captured cat’s eyes, and her voice was becoming hoarse from wailing. Soon, all of MarshClan surrounded the irate cat; the apprentices that were attending to the elders now stood beside them as they huddled close around the intruder. Claytooth remained by the nursery, fur standing on end, and he acted as a big, ruddy shield as the eyes of kits and queens gleamed with fear and curiosity behind him in the shadows of the cypress roots. Sedgepaw ended up being wedged between Gingerstep and Zinniablossom; they reeked of fear and rage.
“Who is that?” Gingerstep fretted. “Why would she be brought here?”
“She was brought here to die, of course!” Zinniablossom snapped over Sedgepaw’s head at her sister. “She’s a filthy Fallen, no doubt.”
To die? Sedgepaw gazed at the pitiful pile of fur before her. The she-cat was reduced to a wheezing, trembling mess by the time Otternose and Fogspots released her. Grayjaw placed a possessive paw on top of the captive’s skinny shoulder like a hunter, proud of his kill. Sedgepaw felt a familiar, sickly chill in her blood. She remembered Vinestripe looking similarly helpless under the glares of her Clanmates only a few days ago.
It did not take long for Whitestar to take notice of the chaos. She pushed her way out of the curtain of moss that hid the hollowed belly of the Fallen Cypress. Amber eyes burning like the sun above, she regarded the patrol with unbridled fury.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
“We found this traitor sniffing about along our side of the river’s border,” Kiteclaw reported dutifully, voice clipped. “Grayjaw challenged her, but she tried to flee.”
“I ordered my patrol to pursue her,” Grayjaw continued, his deep voice a gravelly rasp. “We wanted answers. I thought all Fallen found on our territory should be questioned.”
Whitestar slowly drew her eyes away from her warriors to the intruder stuck beneath Grayjaw’s massive paw. The she-cat refused to return Whitestar’s stare, instead, Sedgepaw’s heart began to race when she realized the mysterious she-cat was staring directly at her, or through her, more like it. The she-cat’s amber eyes appeared as terror slowly faded from their depths. She’s Fallen? Sedgepaw could not restraint her sympathy for the skinny, elderly she-cat; even beneath the clods of mud, she could see the bones protruding from her dull black and ginger fur.
“Look at me, Fallen,” Whitestar snapped.
The Fallen she-cat silently refused. Sedgepaw’s ears perked with surprise. This old cat was either very brave or very dumb.
A bellowing growl erupted from the back of Grayjaw’s throat, and he brought his paw to the top of the she-cat’s head, forcing her to look at Whitestar by pulling her forehead back by his claws. The she-cat hissed in protest, her skin pulled so taut by Grayjaw’s grip that the white of her eyes were exposed.
A small, smug smile appeared on Whitestar’s pink lips as the she-cat was rendered helpless before her. Sedgepaw could smell her own fear now, but it was for her own leader, not the mysterious cat before them. The old, underfed intruder was hardly a threat. She looked ready to croak within the next few moons. As she looked around, most of her Clanmates looked disgusted by and terrified of the mysterious she-cat. Not one seemed to share her sentiment.
“Now,” Whitestar continued, sounding calmer now that Grayjaw had a better hold on the she-cat. “Tell me your name.”
“Scorchface,” she rasped.
As soon as her name was spoken, disturb mutterings erupted from the surrounding cats. Sedgepaw’s ears perked with interest. Scorchface? The Scorchface? It was hard to imagine such a bloodthirsty killer would be reduced to the bag of bones before her. Sedgepaw frowned in disgust as the tortoiseshell began to cough out a bout of chuckles.
Scorchface curled her lip at Whitestar, revealing blackened fangs. “So you’re Pikestar’s successor?” Spittle rained from the elderly she-cat lips as she managed a cackle. “I always wondered who would be diabolical enough to succeed him.”
“Keep your mouth shut, filth!” Grayjaw snapped, stepping on her head harder. “Only give the answers Whitestar wants, nothing more.”
The only stories Sedgepaw knew of Pikestar were ones of glory. He was one of the best fishers in MarshClan, and he was big enough to fight off a fox with his bare claws. Why would Scorchface call him diabolical? Or, more importantly, what made Whitestar more diabolical than him?
Whitestar’s eyes narrowed before flickering to the elders that were gathered around Scorchface. “Certaintly you know of this Fallen, Vervainclaw?” Whitestar asked the elders.
Of the elders, Vervainclaw stepped forward; his pale gray fur seemed to grow paler with each passing day as he aged, and his pale blue eyes were clouded like a murky dewdrop as cataracts fought to consume his vision. “I do,” Vervainclaw confirmed solemnly. “We grew up together.”
Whitestar nodded, smiling. “Then surely you can disclose to the Clan of Scorchface’s crimes.”
Nodding, Vervainclaw stared blankly at Scorchface, his ghostly voice droning out each syllable in a pained whisper. “Many of you may have heard of Scorchface,” he began. “But hearing of her is not that same as knowing or seeing what she had done… It was a humid, dark night during the rainy season. The water was almost up to our shoulders as I led my night patrol through the swamp back to camp. It was an oddly quiet night… not a single cricket could be heard.” His eyes widened, as if he was elsewhere, seeing something frightful, terrible. “Our wading slowed as we began to notice an odor most foul. I knew something was amiss when I heard buzzing, lots of buzzing.”
Vervainclaw licked his lips as he spoke, his voice hindering as he tried to speak again. Sedgepaw noticed a slight tremble in his whiskers. The fear was raw in his eyes. “The buzzing was strange because it was deep and loud… not like a mosquito, but like a fly. Then I saw them. Flies, flies everywhere, in the dead of night! It was unheard of. I was the first to see what they were flying towards… I-I saw Scorchface…” A sob broke from his throat, making his voice crack. “She was dragging a smaller cat away from camp, but the water and mud was so thick… so thick… she could not drag the body fast enough. That’s when I realized what the smell was coming from. The body being drug, it was cut from the jugular down, down, down to the belly, gutted. Her intestines were rising up from the water, bouyant, floating, weighing the body down as Scorchface tried to escape.” His voice cracked again as he struggled to continue. “I was too stunned to speak, but I stepped closer, and the moon just so happened to break from the clouds to reveal Emberstorm’s face, fr-frozen in shock.”
Gingerstep left Sedgepaw’s side, fleeing to the warriors den, and she could see the warrior looked ill. Many of the faces of the gathered cats looked grim or disgusted. Sedgepaw herself could hardly stand to listen any longer. Thankfully, Vervainclaw was too shaken to continue. He began sobbing softly as he relived the hellish night. She frowned with sympathy as Owleyes began to console him, pressing her tawny tabby fur against his and rasping her tongue across his head.
Larkwing raised his chin and stepped forward, his brown and white fur bristling and his green eyes looking spooked. “With all due respect, Whitestar, Vervainclaw will no longer be speaking of this.”
Whitestar’s eyes narrowed, but she relented with a nod. “You all know what happened after Vervainclaw found Scorchface with Emberstorm’s body.” The Clan was silent, waiting with baited breath before she continued, “Pikestar discovered she killed her daughter out of jealousy; Scorchface wanted to become leader of MarshClan, but when StarClan refused to pick her, she took her rage out on her own daughter.”
“That’s quite the colorful story, Whitestar,” Scorchface rasped. “Do you always tell such tall tales?”
Whitestar snorted. “I only speak the truth, Fallen, and see to it my Clan bears witness.”
“Is that what you tell yourself at night?” Scorchface sneered, lip curled. “Does that help you sleep any better? Whose truth do you speak? You know nothing of the truth, that’s why you wish to demonize all those that dare to scrutinize.”
“Enough!” Whitestar snapped.
“Where’s Vinestripe?” Scorchface demanded. “Did he step on your tail one too many times?”
“Another word, and I’ll slit your throat myself,” Grayjaw warned.
“What about Leechpelt? Nettlefrost? Jayflight?” Scorchface continued. Then, she started to laugh, almost maniacally, even as Grayjaw dug his claws deeper into her head with a warning hiss. “Those that don’t believe in your truth, Whitestar, where do they go? Huh?”
Whitestar was silent, but her tail was lashing. The glare in her eyes burned like fire. “I’ll not have you question my integrity in my camp,” she snarled. “You are Fallen, Scorchface. You have no say here. Your words mean nothing.” Turning to the rest of MarshClan, Whitestar’s eyes grazed across the masses, and Sedgepaw freezed under them. “MarshClan, we all know the punishment for a Fallen found trespassing on our land.”
Sedgepaw’s thoughts were drowned out by the resonate mews from her Clanmates; they all exchanged nods and murmurs of agreement, while she felt left out from the decision-making. Though she knew the undebated consequence of trespassing on MarshClan land, Sedgepaw felt uneasy when she finally was able to see the law in action. In her teachings, the Fourth Code of the Warrior was simple: to show no mercy to any and all intruders. It was so short and sweet, Sedgepaw never contemplated what it meant until now.
“At moonhigh, we will execute Scorchface for her crimes, under the eyes of our ancestors, so they may witness and relish in our devotion to Them and the code.” Whitestar nodded to Grayjaw. “You and your patrol will be rewarded for your efforts with double servings of fresh-kill.”
Sedgepaw stiffened when Whitestar’s gaze returned to the rest of the Clan. When Whitestar nodded to Zinniablossom, Sedgepaw slowly shifted away from the warrior, not wanting to attract too much attention from their vindictive leader. Thankfully, she felt Mudpaw shuffle up close from behind her, and his scent comforted her in the wake of an impending execution.
“Zinniablossom,” Whitestar mewed. “You will stand guard over Scorchface with Claytooth for now. Just before sunset, you will turn over your position with Egretsong and Minnowtail.”
“Understood,” Zinniablossom mewed, nodding obediently. She left Sedgepaw’s side to join Kiteclaw and Grayjaw as they dragged the elder across the clearing towards the reeds that bordered the lake. As they marched over, Zinniablossom flicked her tail for Claytooth to follow, and the warrior obliged, joining the cats as they dropped the prisoner under the shadows of the cattails.
Slowly, the gathered MarshClan cats returned to their mid-morning routine, albeit more tensely. Sedgepaw still felt too stunned to move, and it was not until Whitestar’s shadow was cast over her that she realized her leader was standing before her. Sedgepaw felt her tongue swell in her throat as Whitestar fixed her with a small smile. Up close, Sedgepaw could see the smallest ripples in her leader’s stark white pelt, where tiny scars prevented the fur from growing back; they were littered across her fur, and Sedgepaw could not help but wonder about the severity of the scars she inflicted on others.
“How are you healing?” Whitestar asked calmly.
“Uh-uhm, well, I’m healing well, Whitestar,” Sedgepaw affirmed. Her paws itched with unease. She glanced behind her to see Mudpaw skipping over to the nursery, away from her. You mouseheart… She hesitantly returned her gaze to Whitestar, smiling nervously.
“Good to hear.” The leader sat before her, grooming her paw nonchalantly. “I trust Redleaf is taking good care of you?”
Sedgepaw wondered how much Whitestar knew. Does she know about the prophecy? Her tail began to tremble. As MarshClan’s leader, Whitestar was responsible for ensuring good order and discipline. If Whitestar knew she and her siblings were prophesied to incite revolution, she would surely want them dead too.
“Sedgepaw?” Whitestar prompted, quirking a brow.
“Ah, uhm, Redleaf is being very good to me!” she responded, flustered. “He said I should be fully healed very soon.”
Whitestar smiled again. It almost seemed disingenuous to Sedgepaw; it was like a ghost of a smile, something that threatened to fade with time. “That’s good to hear. Batface speaks highly of you, and MarshClan is astounded by your feat of climbing the Great Cypress.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I will be watching your training with great interest. Your test is coming soon, correct?”
Sedgepaw nodded slowly, rendered helpless by the closeness of her leader.
“Fantastic. I am anticipating it as much as you.” Her smile grew wider. A cheshire grin. “I am expecting good things from you, Sedgepaw.”
As Whitestar stalked away passed Sedgepaw, she felt every muscle in her body relax. With a loud sigh, she gazed around camp. Egretsong and Sandthroat were consoling a frazzled Gingerstep. The elders, Larkwing and Owleyes, were likely still soothing Vervainclaw in their den of dense bulrush and soft rush, which was tied together naturally by dense vines of ivy and jasmine. Standing outside was Cypressfang and Russetnose, exchanging heated murmurs, likely regarding the death penalty looming over Scorchface, while Pebblepaw, Toadpaw, and Lilypaw watched with wide eyes. By the nursery, Mudpaw was the only one still smiling, for he was entertaining Foxkit with a ball of moss.
In a heartbeat, the peaceful sight was greeted by upon exiting the den was changed. Sedgepaw could only sit in the heart of camp and wonder. Was their way of life really so fragile? She felt the pit of dread in her once more. She had to come to terms with three certainties: one, Scorchface would die tonight, two, her final test as an apprentice was on the horizon, and three, she and her siblings were most likely destined to destroy MarshClan.
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 10, 2019 14:59:54 GMT -5
Chapter 7 will be posted soon!
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 11, 2019 20:24:56 GMT -5
CHAPTER SEVEN: BLACK AND WHITE WAKE ME UP, I'M STILL ALIVE DAYLIGHT waned, its pale golden shine bleeding across the sky as it slowly darkened in shade. Sedgepaw remained glued to the center of camp, watching as the shadows of the Fallen Cypress rotated as time passed her by. She felt numb. How did her simple life become so complicated overnight? Kneading the grass beneath her unsheathed claws, she pondered. She needed to figure out why StarClan made such a bleak prophecy. The circumstances of her birth were shrouded in mystery. Did Fernstream intend to become a queen, or did Sedgepaw and her siblings come as a surprise?
Her unanswered questions were brought to a halt when the hunting party returned. Emerging from the sawgrass was a collection of hunters that left the Clan before dawn. Leading the group was Spiderfang; the small, dusky black deputy had a collection of fish in his jaws, and his pelt still gleamed from being soaked in the water. His amber eyes flashed when he looked passed Sedgepaw and spotted Scorchface, sleeping under the watchful eyes of Zinniablossom and Claytooth.
The deputy bounded across the clearing to place his fresh-kill under the shadows of the bur marigold that built the medicine den, where the pile belonged. Following after him were the other cats in his hunting party: Palemist, Shaleheart, Blackpaw, and Molefoot. Sedgepaw did not bother watching them go to MarshClan’s latest prisoner, for her eyes found Blueflower hedging her way through the grass with a couple of mice between her teeth. Sedgepaw’s heart fluttered when the she-cat stepped out of the wall of grasses and into the sunlight, her blue-gray fur shining. The warrior captured her attention since the night of Vinestripe’s trail; the image of the she-cat’s deep blue eyes full of sorrow and concern for the Fallen was burned into her memory.
I need to talk to her. Sedgepaw realized. Taking a step towards the warrior, she hesitated when Ospreypaw came bounding up to her with a smile from the sawgrass with Yewpaw not too far behind. Any other time, Sedgepaw would be thrilled to see her friend and sister, but she could not help but flatten her ears in irritation when they approached.
“Well, well, well,” Ospreypaw purred, yellow eyes bright with relief. “Look who decided to make their way out of the medicine den.”
Yewpaw hurried to touch her nose to Sedgepaw. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” she chirped.
Sedgepaw shrugged. “I don’t know why you all were so worried,” she grumbled. “It takes a lot to keep me down.”
Ospreypaw rolled her eyes. “It’s only because you’re my friend that I won’t call your bluff.”
“When you were brought back to camp, you looked dead!” Yewpaw protested worriedly. Her sister pressed her head beneath Sedgepaw’s chin, a soft sigh escaping her. “I thought I lost you.”
Sedgepaw was gazing over Yewpaw’s head at Blueflower as her sister spoke, watching the warrior deposit her mice in the fresh-kill pile. Oddly, the warrior seemed to recoil in shock when she saw Scorchface, and Sedgepaw leaned towards her in reflex, making her press closer to Yewpaw in consequence.
Ospreypaw pulled Sedgepaw from her fixation. “Hey, who is that skinny, old cat laying in the shade?”
“Scorchface,” Sedgepaw replied grimly, still watching Blueflower.
Yewpaw turned in the direction of the elderly prisoner, eyes wide with surprise. “That murderer is still alive?” she scoffed. “I always thought she was just some fake villain in the elders’ stories…”
“No, she’s real alright,” Sedgepaw grunted. Peeling her eyes away from Blueflower, she gazed down at her sister with a frown. “Grayjaw’s border patrol found her on our territory, so they brought her in.”
“What’s going to happen to her?” Ospreypaw asked.
“Whitestar ordered her execution!” Bounding in from behind was Blackpaw; his usual cocky grin was plastered on his face, and Sedgepaw groaned internally as he took a seat beside them. “Apparently, she slandered her in front of the whole Clan!”
“Yeah, I know, I was there,” Sedgepaw mewed dryly.
Blackpaw sniffed. “Well, we can’t all be stuck in camp… Nothing would get done if we all were lazing in the medicine den like you.”
Sedgepaw bristled. Her muscles screamed to rake her claws across his smug face.
Yewpaw interjected sheepishly. “Blackpaw, you know Sedgepaw’s still healing. It’s not her fault.”
I don’t need you to defend me. Sedgepaw was growing impatient. Though her sister had good intentions, she ended up glaring daggers at her and Blackpaw interchangeably.
Ospreypaw cleared her throat. “When is this execution supposed to happen?”
“Midnight,” Sedgepaw replied tensely, appreciating the subject change. Ospreypaw always knew how to save her from her temper. “Whitestar will be hoasting it in camp under the vigilance of StarClan.”
Blackpaw rolled his shoulders with excitement. “I can’t believe we get to see the Scorchface die at the claws of our own leader! Whitestar is so cool.” He puffed his chest out confidently. “I’m going to be just like her one day. Just wait! StarClan will pick me for sure.”
Ospreypaw snickered. “Doubt it, They would never get a word in with you around.”
Yewpaw and Ospreypaw laughed as Blackpaw pouted, but Sedgepaw was distracted by her search for Blueflower. She spotted her near the warriors den, which was composed of a forest of knotweed that threatened to suffocate the few stalks of sugarcane plumegrass that used to grow in abundance in camp. The wilted, feathery ends of the plumegrass rested against the tall knotweed for support. With the undergrowth being so thick, the shadows of the warrior den were impenetrable, and they hugged Blueflower as she sat in their midst, staring at Scorchface from afar.
“Are you okay?” Ospreypaw nudged at Sedgepaw, eyes glowing with concern. “Do you want me to take you to the medicine den?”
“No, no… Uh, I just… I need to ask Blueflower something.” Sedgepaw stood slowly, eyes not leaving the blue-gray warrior.
She felt Yewpaw’s eyes bore into her. “You’ve been staring at her since we’ve come back,” she mentioned, not sounding accusatory but curious. “What’s eating you?”
“Nothing!” Sedgepaw snapped, going on the defensive as all three apprentices gawked at her. “Can’t I just ask her a question without being interrogated?”
Yewpaw flinched and nodded. “Of course… Sorry I asked.”
Sedgepaw did not have time to apologize, though she did feel a twinge of regret for yelling at her sister. She did not want to waste the opportunity to talk to Blueflower alone. Leaving the apprentices, she trotted across the clearing to the warrior, but as she drew closer, her paws felt heavier. Uncertainty clouded her mind, and she felt her trot slow to a saunter, and her eyes became dodgy as she entered the shadows stretching from the warriors den. Great, I walked all the way over here without even thinking about what I had to say! Her mind raced.
Frozen in her tracks, Sedgepaw gaped at Blueflower as the warrior noticed her approaching. Her blue eyes struck her like lightning as she stared, sparking a flame inside her that she had not a prayer of extinguishing, for it burned bright and true, searing her heart with warmth, and bringing her belly to a boil. Sedgepaw forgot how to swallow. She was so beautiful. When she smiled in her direction, Sedgepaw felt the earth give way beneath her paws, and she was free falling into the depths of her presence, plunging hopelessly, helplessly, happily. She never realized how soft and sweet her scent was until Blueflower left her seat to close the distance between them.
“Hello, Sedgepaw.” Her voice was soft, as usual. Sedgepaw remembered hearing it above the madness of Vinestripe’s trial, and it was like music to her ears. “I’m glad you’re healing well.”
“I… Uh… Thank you, Blueflower.” Sedgepaw offered a smile in return. She tried to keep her posture confident, raising her chest, keeping her tail and chin high. Her golden eyes betrayed her, however, and gleamed with uncertainty. “I was just… coming to--uh--say--”
Blueflower waited patiently, her blue eyes not leaving hers. Sedgepaw cursed herself for not being able to form a coherent sentence.
“I--uh…” Sedgepaw shuffled her paws, thinking. “How--how are you?”
Blueflower giggled, and it sounded like the peal of a bell. Sedgepaw shivered. “I’m doing well,” she purred. “Thank you for asking. And you?” There was a slight tilt to her head as she asked.
“Uhm… I’m feeling fine, I guess. I’ll be out of the medicine den soon.” As Sedgepaw remembered how to speak, her confidence slowly returned, and she felt less like a stumbling fawn. “With all these Fallen turning up, I need to be back on my paws soon so I can be around to help.”
Blueflower’s features darkened, and Sedgepaw winced. Did she say something wrong? “They aren’t turning up so much as they are being sought after…” she murmured, averting her eyes.
“Do… you feel bad for them?” Sedgepaw wondered.
“Certainly not!” she protested, fur beginning to bristle. “And what if I did? What’s wrong with that?”
Sedgepaw frowned, shrugging and feeling guilty. “I wasn’t trying to say there was anything wrong about it… A life’s a life.”
Blueflower stared at her for a long time, and Sedgepaw was trapped in her gaze. The silence felt charged, and when it broke, Sedgepaw could finally breathe. “I’m sorry for snapping,” she apologized gently. “I didn’t mean to take it the wrong way; I guess I’m just shaken up by seeing Scorchface here.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think she was still alive,” Sedgepaw replied, happier now that their misunderstanding was cleared.
“No one thought she was alive.” Blueflower was gazing across the clearing at the prisoner. “When she was banished, several cats in the Clan vowed to find her and kill her.”
Sedgepaw’s ears perked. “Really?”
“Yes, but Pikestar forbid it. He did not want to risk losing warriors over revenge,” Blueflower mewed. “There are still cats that inherited a grudge towards Scorchface from their parents; Palemist is one of them.”
Sedgepaw tilted her head quizzically. “Is it because Vervainclaw is her father?”
Blueflower nodded, before sighing feebly and shaking her head. “So much energy is wasted on vengeance and hatred in this Clan,” she murmured. “I feel like we are a flame, burning so bright that we threaten to burn out.”
Sedgepaw’s eyes widened, and she could not help but nod slowly in agreement. Gingerly, she approached Blueflower to sit beside her in the shade. She gazed up at the clouds and they rolled by. “Do you think Scorchface deserves to die?” she asked, voice just above a whisper.
When the words came out, she instantly regretted them. Blueflower could easily take her question as a question of Whitestar’s decision, which was against the warrior code. No one could question their leader, especially not some lowly apprentice like she. Her heart sunk as anxiety weighed it down, and it sat in her gut like a stone.
“I don’t think anyone deserves to die,” Blueflower whispered.
Relief flooded Sedgepaw. Not only did the words comfort her, they brought her closer to Blueflower. Perhaps she was not alone in her worries of Clan life? She turned to Blueflower, eyes bright. She could not remember the last time she felt this at peace.
“I especially don’t think Scorchface deserves to die,” Blueflower went on.
Sedgepaw’s eyes widened with surprise. She glanced around camp nervously, hoping no one heard Blueflower’s transgression but her. “What do you mean?” she demanded in a fervent whisper.
Blueflower gazed at her, and there was a strange emotion in her blue eyes. There were secrets in the depths. “Those stories… that’s all they are.” Blueflower frowned. “We don’t know what happened back then because we weren’t there; Vervainclaw is the only cat still alive from that time besides Scorchface, and he grows more senile by the day.”
Sedgepaw’s heart pounded as she struggled to measure the gravity of what Blueflower was saying. Not only did she disagree with the execution, she disagreed with the judgment itself. If anyone told Whitestar of Blueflower’s beliefs… she could be deemed Fallen. Sedgepaw felt determination swell inside her heart; she refused to let that happen. Blueflower’s secret would be safe with her.
“Think about it,” Blueflower pressed. “No one’s even bothered to hear Scorchface’s side of the story. What if it was a misunderstanding?”
“Why don’t we just ask Scorchface?”
Blueflower shook her head. “You think they would stop and listen now? The Clan is out for blood. One of the most notorious Fallen was caught on our land, and you think they would let her walk?”
“You’re right.” Sedgepaw stared at her paws, feeling helpless. What if Scorchface was innocent? “But if she didn’t do it, who did?”
Blueflower smiled, and Sedgepaw felt her face grow hot. “I wish there were more cats like you, Sedgepaw.”
She was not prepared for the compliment; it hit her like a thousand suns. She could not help but smile. “Why are you saying that?”
“You aren’t afraid to question our society out loud. If you were like anyone else, you’d be running straight to Whitestar to report me.”
She is right. Sedgepaw was breaking the code by even having this conversation, and she was breaking it again by not reporting Blueflower for it. The second law: to obey all orders from the leader and deputy without protest. The ninth law: to report all violations of orders instructed to be enforced. I just broke the code twice… and it doesn’t even bother me.
“I can’t report you,” Sedgepaw confessed.
Blueflower tilted her head. “Why not?”
She smiled, shaking her head. I’m so hopeless. “Because I agree with you… I’m just as guilty as you are.” She laughed to herself, realizing her guilt as she spoke aloud. “Ever since they drug Vinestripe away, something inside me has been screaming, and it hasn’t stopped.” As she spoke, her voice broke, and she felt small and weak to be this vulnerable beside the warrior.
“I feel the same,” Blueflower murmured. “I’ve seen too many good cats get sent away because they dare to doubt Whitestar or question the Fallen.” She smiled sadly. “Vinestripe is like us too, and he got banished for it. Now he’s living in exile for the rest of his life.”
Sedgepaw’s heart started pounding as her vision of Vinestripe returned. She remembered his bloody body, standing before her in the forest. She shook her head. “I don’t think he’s alive, Blueflower.”
She heard Blueflower inhale sharply. “What did you see?” she demanded in a hushed voice. “Was he murdered too?”
Sedgepaw’s fur prickled with unease, and she shook her head, afraid to say more. “I--I don’t know… I just have a feeling.” She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘was he murdered too’?”
Blueflower sighed, eyes half shut. “Nevermind, we’ve got company.”
Sedgepaw noticed Redleaf approaching them from the far side of the clearing, where the medicine den resided. She felt her blood run cold at the sight of him. Being beside Blueflower for so long helped her forget about the prophecy. Now that Redleaf’s appearance served as a painful reminder.
“We will continue this later?” Blueflower asked.
Sedgepaw smiled, nodding excitedly. Knowing there was someone that shared her thoughts was all she had to cling to in order to maintain her sanity. “Of course.”
“Tonight, most of the Clan will be gone to watch the execution,” Blueflower’s whispers became more rushed as Redleaf came closer. “I will stay behind. There is somewhere I want to show you, we can speak safely there.”
Sedgepaw nodded wordlessly to her as Redleaf reached them. The stocky ginger medicine cat exchanged a smile with Blueflower as she left her side for the fresh-kill pile. Redleaf watched her go with a question in his yellow eyes. Instead, he just shrugged and nodded to Sedgepaw. “It’s been quite the interesting day, eh?”
“That’s one way to put it,” Sedgepaw scoffed.
Redleaf chuckled, nodding in agreement. “How about you come rest?” he suggested. “You need another dose of herbs, for sure.”
The mention of rest and medicine reminded Sedgepaw of her pain. It was much duller than before, but still present. If anything, she did need to rest her eyes. Scorchface’s imprisonment and her conversation with Blueflower only exacerbated her fatigue. “That sounds perfect,” Sedgepaw mewed.
“Very good.” Redleaf turned to lead her to the medicine. Sedgepaw followed slowly. He glanced back at her as they walked. “What were you discussing so intensely with Blueflower?”
Sedgepaw frowned. She forgot how many eyes were in camp. They had to be careful. “Scorchface’s execution,” she mewed simply. “We were wondering who would be the one to slay her.”
“Ah,” Redleaf nodded. “Well, I’ll be sure to tell you when I return. As medicine cat, I have to join the rest of the triad in these matters.”
Redleaf’s absence would make Sedgepaw’s disappearance easier. Sneaking out under Heronpaw’s nose alone would be better than trying to avoid the two of them. “Do you want to be there?”
“It doesn’t matter. I have a duty.”
Sedgepaw flinched at the sharpness in his tone. She needed to remember she was not speaking to Blueflower anymore. There was no sense in dancing around hypotheticals; it was a black and white world here, and those that hovered in the gray were doomed to join Scorchface in a shallow grave.
“And your duty is to rest and recover,” Redleaf added, eyes narrow. “Now head on inside and don’t speak such nonsense.”
Obediently, Sedgepaw entered the den of marigold, and plopped in her nest where her pile of herbs was sitting on the side. Ingesting the bitter mixture, she gagged softly and curled up. However, sleep failed to grace her eyelids. She felt someone staring. She gazed into the shadows on the far side of the den, seeing a slight glint in the depths. Redleaf. Sedgepaw needed to remember she was in the presence of a cat that knew of her destiny. One that could be hellbent on destroying her because of it. Paranoia ate away at her intestines like maggots would carrion; an odd cramp settled deep in her gut and she dry heaved.
Feeling dizzy, she stood from her nest, vomiting the herbs she just consumed. Redleaf seemed to materialize beside her in an instant. Sedgepaw felt her vision come and go, blurring and sharpening in a sickening pace. Her eyes rolled up to gaze at Redleaf, and she was able to discern his confusion as his frame multiplied in her dizzy fit.
“Sedgepaw, what happened?” Redleaf asked.
Shivering, she felt her nausea slowly begin to fade, and her vision returned. Though she felt weaker than before, she felt strangely relieved. Blinking slowly, she coughed, wanting the bitter taste of bile to leave her tongue. All she wanted now was some water. Her throat burned and her eyes were watering, and she craved something cool and wet to soothe her. Gazing down, she noticed Redleaf was hurriedly cleaning up the vomit by clumping it up in the dust into a foul-smelling pile. Sedgepaw narrowed her eyes in confusion when she noticed a small, strange flower smothered with the rest of the herbs in her poultice. Though the dirt and bile covering it clouded her sight, she could make out white petals in the cluster; she did not remember anything looking like that in her medicine before…
Sedgepaw felt ice crawl up her back to chill her spine. She eyed Redleaf suspiciously as he padded over to the herb store, where he scooped a sheathe from a palm tree trunk with his teeth, before rushing back to her side to scoop up her vomit. He did not wrinkle his nose nor bat an eye at the foul odor as he carried it out of the den to dispose of it properly. Sedgepaw sat quietly as he left, feeling ill for all the wrong reasons. Did Redleaf put something in her medicine to make her sick? Her eyes darted wildly around at the shadows of the den, and she began to feel like prey being held at bay. So, this is what fearing for your life feels like… She felt terrified in the presence of the oppressive marigold blooms and the fresh aroma of herbs; a scent that was normally meant to comfort ailing cats only tormented Sedgepaw. I can’t even pray to StarClan right now.
However, there was one cat that Sedgepaw knew would care about her worries. Blueflower. Sedgepaw knew she could not go to her family with her concerns, they wouldn’t understand. Ospreypaw would be too skeptical, of course, and Batface… he would definitely think she was mad. I have to get out of here tonight.
The sound of Redleaf’s paws as he padded back to the medicine den stirred Sedgepaw from her worries. When he emerged from the outside, he had a ball of fresh moss in his jaws, and it dripped of fresh water. Sedgepaw parted her lips to taste the air; nothing about the moss seemed suspicious, and her dry mouth begged to be watered. She was silent as Redleaf dropped the moss by her nest.
“You’re scared,” he observed.
There was no point in disguising her fear, Sedgepaw let it emanate off her pelt, raw and vivid, as she sat in the medicine cat’s presence. “I just don’t like throwing up,” she lied.
Nodding with understanding, the medicine cat nosed the moss closer. “Drink the water sparingly,” he advised calmly. “It’s okay to be scared. You’ve had a long day.”
“Thank you,” Sedgepaw mewed, voice hoarse.
Backing away from her, Redleaf returned to the side of the den where his nest and herb stores resided. He glanced back at Sedgepaw, and she met his stare. There was a wordless exchange between them, but Sedgepaw struggled to decipher its meaning. All she could think was, Game on. Curling up in her nest, Sedgepaw felt like she was slowly coming to terms with the prophecy that was unknowingly unveiled to her by the medicine cat; she now had a greater suspicion of Redleaf’s murderous intent than before. Her mind buzzed with wonder. If StarClan wanted her dead, why was she able to expel of the poison before it consumed her? Redleaf was well-adversed in herbs. There was no way he slipped up and let the strange, white flower make her sick on accident. Perhaps StarClan was looking out for her? She snorted softly at the notion. As she dove down the rabbit hole of cosmic intervention, Sedgepaw felt herself grow even more confused than before.
What was her fate? Where did her destiny lay among the stars?
She rolled to her side in her bed, lazily lapping at the ball of moss beside her. She needed answers. Tonight, she would go with Blueflower in the cover of darkness; she just needed someone to talk to. Blueflower seemed like the only one willing to listen with unbiased ears.
As of right now, Sedgepaw was an enemy to the stars and the state. Her birth was an omen of doom. She broke the hallowed code twice in one day. If Sedgepaw was on track to die, she was hard charging. She smiled to herself. There was no point in fighting her fate; if StarClan, and by extension, her medicine cat wanted her dead, she was not going to go down easy. I am not afraid anymore. This is my life, and I’m going to live it no matter what the stars throw at me.
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Non-binary
!Rowanfur
i love SEAGULLS and my GIRLFRIEND
Pronouns: they/them, he/him
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Post by !Rowanfur on Mar 11, 2019 22:41:07 GMT -5
okay let me just say a few things!
1) your wording is mystifying, i couldn't stop reading until i got to the newest post!
2) your layout is really beautiful, your choice of picture for each post is appropriate and well framed!
3) i don't normally keep my eye on fanfics! but i think i'll keep my eye on this one.
good luck with the rest of your story! i'm excited to see the next installment!
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 12, 2019 1:08:40 GMT -5
!Rowanfur -- thank you for the feedback! it's comments like yours that inspire me to write more, so i hope you know your words are greatly appreciated.
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 15, 2019 3:10:57 GMT -5
chapter 8 will be posted tomorrow!
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Post by graygoyle on Mar 15, 2019 12:16:14 GMT -5
CHAPTER EIGHT: DANCE OF THE FIREFLIES WHERE IS THE WORLD WITHIN? OPENING her golden eyes, Sedgepaw noticed the shadows had grown while she was sleeping. They consumed the den, leaving no trace of sunshine in their gloom. Outside the dense cluster of marigold, she heard the screech of frogs and song of crickets droning harmoniously through the air. It was nighttime. Blueflower!
Bolting upright in her nest, Sedgepaw glanced around wildly in the medicine den. How long was she asleep? Straining her ears to hear, she could decipher movement from the other side of the medicine den, and she could discern between two voices: Redleaf and Heronpaw. Sedgepaw immediately let her fur lay flat and relaxed her muscles. She was not too late. In fact, it seemed that she woke up just in time.
When Spiderfang poked his head into the den, he glanced around curiously. “Redleaf?” he called. His eyes fell on Sedgepaw and she offered a lopsided grin. “Oh, good evening, Sedgepaw.”
“Hi,” she mewed. “Redleaf’s over on the other side of the den.” She pointed with her nose toward the shadows beyond the herb store.
Nodding appreciatively, Spiderfang trotted over to the medicine cat. She could only hear a muffled exchange between the cats before all three of them emerged again. Redleaf was staring at his paws; he seemed distracted. Spiderfang led him out of the den, while Heronpaw watched them go from the archway of marigold. Sedgepaw narrowed her eyes when she noticed a particular gleam in Heronpaw’s blue eyes.
“It’ll be a long night,” Heronpaw mewed grimly. His eyes flashed as they flickered to her. “Are you sorry you’ll be missing out on the action?”
Sedgepaw knew what she should say, so she smirked and shrugged. “A little bit, but I’m sure this won’t be the last time we catch Fallen on our land.”
Heronpaw nodded quietly, mumbling to himself, “And so another cat meets their fate.” He chuckled. “Such is life, hm, Sedgepaw?”
“Yeah, right…” She mewed uncomfortably. As the silence stretched between them, Sedgepaw began to fidget. “Can I go see everyone off?” she asked Heronpaw. “I’ll be asleep by the time they come back.”
“Do what you want.” Heronpaw flicked his long tail dismissively. “I’m not a kitsitter. All I ask is that you return to your nest before moonhigh.”
Nodding appreciatively, Sedgepaw hopped out of her nest and ran into camp. Out of the shelter of marigold, she realized how thick and heavy the air was with humidity. It clung to her fur, suffocating. She only now realized how close the rainy season was. She had grown accustomed to the cool nights of the dry season. Now, a storm could be on the horizon at any time.
Sedgepaw spotted her mentor, Batface, gazing at the night sky, searching. Beside him were the other sentinels returning from their watch to be relieved by the night party: Fernstream, Littlebrook, Mothfur, and Snakefang.. It was their duty to spend all day outside of camp, scouting for potential danger while the border was patrolled by different cats. Without them, foxes and coyotes and birds of prey could infiltrate and threaten those residing back in camp.
“Are you counting the stars?” Sedgepaw purred jokingly at her mentor.
He huffed, but his orange eyes gleamed with humor. “Cheeky apprentice. I should send you straight back to the medicine den.”
Sedgepaw chuckled, nudging his scarred shoulder. “You’d miss me too much.”
“Sedgepaw!” Fernstream’s voice chirped from behind Batface. She was smiling softly as she gazed at Sedgepaw.
Fernstream hurried to her, purring loudly. Her pale brown fur smelled sweet, and it soothed Sedgepaw to be in her embrace. She did not realize how much she missed her mother’s warmth until she had it again. Smiling against her mother’s chest, she allowed a soft sigh to escape her. Ever since she saw her mother in the medicine den, looking hurt and frightened, but bravely standing up for her family before the one cat that had the power to take them all away, she longed to be close to her; Sedgepaw wanted to reassure her mother that everything would be okay, but she could not unveil her knowledge of the prophecy. It could only put Fernstream in more danger, Redleaf already tried to kill her once… The image of the mysterious white flower reappeared, and Sedgepaw’s tongue withered at the memory.
“Fernstream,” Sedgepaw muttered.
She could feel her mother tense. It was evident she detected something alarming in her voice. “What’s wrong?” she demanded in a hushed whisper.
Sedgepaw leaned back, surprised by the deadly gleam in her mother’s eyes as she protectively wrapped her tail around her. “I got sick in the medicine den,” she mewed softly. Thankfully, Batface had the courtesy to turn his head away from their private discussion; Sedgepaw waited for her mentor to pad away towards the rest of the sentinels before she spoke again. “I think… Redleaf accidentally gave me the wrong medicine.”
If anyone knew what that strange white flower was, Fernstream did. Sedgepaw played coy; she knew she only found out about her mother’s past life as a medicine cat apprentice by eavesdropping. She needed to tread carefully over these next few words. One wrong step could land her in hot water.
“Why do you think that?” Fernstream asked, her voice gentle, but Sedgepaw could see the rigidness in her mother’s frame.
“I threw up.” Sedgepaw shuffled her paws nervously. Maybe mentioning this to Fernstream was a mistake? But I have to know. “In it… I saw a flower that I haven’t seen before.”
“What did it look like?” Fernstream pressed.
“It was small, with skinny white petals that looked kind of like fangs.”
Fernstream was quiet as her eyes remained fixed on Sedgepaw’s. She looked thoughtful, then distressed, then furious. The whirlwind of raw emotion in her mother’s green eyes swept Sedgepaw up in a tempest of chaos. Her mother’s reaction aloned confirmed Sedgepaw’s greatest fear: it was no accident.
“Boneset.” Her mother’s whisper was so faint, Sedgepaw barely grasped the word.
Boneset? What is that? Sedgepaw stared at her mother quizzically. “Fernstream?” she prompted.
“It’s nothing, Sedgepaw.” Her emotions ebbed, and her face became neutral, if not pleasant, again. Fernstream managed a small smile, but it seemed hollow to Sedgepaw. “Redleaf has a lot of pressure on him; nobody is perfect.”
“I know,” Sedgepaw mumbled. She regretted mentioning anything to Fernstream; it only seemed to disturb her mother. After seeing how she was the other morning, she did not want to inflict more worry than she already had.
Fernstream rasped her tongue across Sedgepaw’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it. You’re safe, that’s all that matters.” When she leaned back, Sedgepaw could see the fatigue in her mother’s eyes. Her heart lurched.
“Are you tired?” Sedgepaw asked.
“A little. It was a hot day today, and with scouting being an all day affair…” She laughed softly. “It gets to you!” She smiled again, more genuinely this time, for Sedgepaw could see the creases at the ends of her lips. “I’ll be fine. I just need a good night’s sleep.”
Sedgepaw nodded. The life of a warrior was no easy feat. There was no such thing as a day off. One either hunted, patrolled the border, acted as sentinel in the territory, or worked hard training apprentices. Before, Sedgepaw was thrilled by the idea of serving her Clan. Now, she was left wondering if she would even make it that far. Boneset… What could that be? Was it poison, or an accidental dosage?
“Fernstream!” Batface’s yowl caught the attention of both Sedgepaw and her mother. Across the clearing, Batface was in a tight huddle with the other sentinels and the oncoming party.
“Looks like your relief is ready,” Sedgepaw mewed, seeing Sandthroat, Longscar, Gingerstep, and Dewpelt shuffling impatiently. She brushed against her mother, purring. “I wager Batface wants you to be there for the debrief of your watch.”
Fernstream sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. “You’re probably right.” She touched her nose to Sedgepaw’s in farewell before trotting over to the gathered cats.
Watching her mother go, Sedgepaw felt a twinge of regret. If Fernstream did anything rash in reaction to Sedgepaw’s worries, it would be her fault. She did not forget how fast Fernstream drew out her claws in reaction to Redleaf merely suggesting Sedgepaw and her siblings should not be alive; now, Sedgepaw implied that Redleaf may have made an attempt on her life. Her heart began to race. She could only hope that her mother would be rational. Sedgepaw’s endeavor to gain more information on something as simple as an herb identification could be the nail in the coffin for her mother.
As the group of sentinels dispersed, Fernstream was the first to head for the warriors den; Sedgepaw watched her disappear into the shadows of the knotweed, pleased that her mother did not go straight to Redleaf to confront him. Sighing softly with relief, Sedgepaw was able to regain her composure before Batface hovered in her shadow. She whirled around to look him in the eye when he cleared his throat for her attention.
“Spiderfang met me when I returned and said you would probably be back to training tomorrow.” A rare smile cracked across his scarred muzzle. “Apparently, Redleaf is astounded by your fast recovery and agreed to let you resume your apprentice duties.”
“Really?! That’s awesome!” Sedgepaw bounced on her toes, laughing excitedly. “I am finally out of that awful prison! Look out, MarshClan, Sedgepaw’s back!” She was thrilled to be far away from the watchful eyes of Redleaf. She would be free.
“Well, I’m not convinced,” Batface interjected sternly.
Sedgepaw froze. “You’re kidding, right?”
“You took a serious fall, and no apprentice of mine is going to be training unless I am convinced you’re capable of handling anything I throw at you.” Batface’s expression was grave. He was serious.
“Come on, Batface,” Sedgepaw protested with a groan. “I’m dying to get back out there. Whitestar said my test was coming up soon; I have to be ready!”
“Do you doubt my ability?” Batface hissed.
Sedgepaw grunted, shaking her head grudgingly.
“I can assure you, no apprentice of mine has ever failed their final test; you will be no different.” Batface pushed passed her, and Sedgepaw restrained the impulse to growl in frustration. “Tomorrow, you are to report to the elders den. There, you will study history and select your ancestor to present to the elders for your test.”
There was no room to say no, for Batface was already stalking towards the warriors den. Sedgepaw frowned, her skin crawling with agitation. She was so close to freedom, yet so far. It’s only one day, she reassured herself. Frowning, she turned and trotted toward the slowly growing group of cats that formed up before Whitestar. They were waiting impatiently alongside the wall of sawgrass that framed the end of camp, muttering to one another and shuffling against each other like a flock of pigeons.
Whitestar was talking with Spiderfang and Redleaf, her amber eyes burning brighter than the moon above. It was almost moonhigh, when the pale sphere was at its brightest and every star in the indigo sky could be seen. Soon, they would drag Scorchface away to meet her fate. Sedgepaw scanned the crowd of cats for the prisoner, spotting her wedged between her guards, Minnowtail and Egretsong; they looked uncomfortable to be so close beside the withered tortoiseshell. Egretsong in particular had dodgy eyes and her fur standing on end. Sedgepaw snorted. Scorchface wasn’t so scary; the she-cat may have murdered in the past, but she was far from dangerous now. Skinny and frail, the prisoner looked more like a bag of bones than a cold-hearted killer. She may not even be a killer, Sedgepaw realized. Her conversation with Blueflower came to mind, and she looked at Scorchface with revived sympathy. The punishment for her crime was heavy; it would be a tragic waste of life if she was executed for a crime she did not commit.
“They’ll be leaving soon.” Blueflower’s sweet scent preceded her soft voice. She was gazing at the crowd of cats while standing alongside Sedgepaw.
Sedgepaw jumped, startled by her sudden appearance. “Where’d you come from?”
Blueflower laughed. “I was talking briefly with Molefoot by the fresh-kill pile, then I saw you and came over.” She returned her gaze to their Clanmates. “Tonight’s the night.”
“It’s hard to believe this many cats would want to watch someone die,” Sedgepaw murmured. She noticed all her fellow apprentices were among them. “The apprentices don’t even really know who she is.”
“Well, the majority of them are probably going because their mentors are.” Blueflower gestured with her nose to Toadpaw. The stocky tom was rocking where he stood; his amber eyes were half-shut. “Toadpaw looks ready to fall asleep standing up. I seriously doubt her cares about what’s going to happen.”
Sedgepaw chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, and I’m sure Yewpaw is only going because Palemist made her.” She found her sister in the crowd, eyes wide as the moon, as the other cats were jostling around her excitedly. “She wouldn’t want to watch something like this.”
“Whitestar loves making a show of ‘wrongdoers’ getting what they deserve.” Blueflower’s features darkened as she regarded their leader with a brooding stare. “There’s no need to question your enemy’s design when she paints them for you so distinctly.”
“By all accounts, Scorchface is the enemy, though,” Sedgepaw argued. She felt a worm of unease wriggle in her belly whenever Blueflower spoke ill of Whitestar. She wanted justice just as much as the next cat, but she also wanted to save her skin. “If she really was innocent, shouldn’t she be fighting a little harder?”
In the distance, Scorchface swayed with the warm breeze that filtered through camp like a leaf. Even from afar, Sedgepaw could see the dimness in her amber eyes. The flame that once flickered was nothing but a small spark, struggling to keep its light against the howling wind of her accusers. Sedgepaw felt a pang of sympathy for the old cat. She was either a murderer so diabolical that she would stoop to kill her own daughter, or an innocent framed for the gorey demise of the she-cat she raised from birth. Whether the former or latter was true, she lived a hellish life.
“Giving up and letting go is harder than holding on,” Blueflower mewed. “Scorchface must have a reason for staying quiet.”
Even if Scorchface had a defense, it was too late. Whitestar rose her long tail for the attention of her Clan, and the gathered cats slowly quieted. Once she was satisfied with the silence, she spoke, “MarshClan, tonight we will have justice for our murdered Clanmate. StarClan’s dominion has rung true, and They have brought us the perpetrator so that she may face her fate.”
A pleased, harmonious roar erupted from the gathered MarshClan cats. Sedgepaw’s pelt prickled with discontent as their eyes flickered in unison towards the prisoner, hungry and frenzied, ready to witness the bloodshed. Scorchface remained silent, but she rose her chin in defiance, prompting a disquieted hiss from Palemist. Sedgepaw could see the she-cat bristling within the crowd, blue eyes ablaze with hatred.
“The time has come,” Whitestar continued. “Let us go forth and vanquish the Fallen for her crime and avenge Emberstorm!”
Raucous cheering erupted as Scorchface was hauled into the shadows of the sawgrass. Her disappearance was followed by the Warriors’ Chant. Sedgepaw was familiar with the roaring beat, for she heard it once before in Snakefang’s warrior ceremony. It was a proud war cry, which was repeated until it crescendoed with a shrill shriek that echoed through the swamp like a hawk’s screech. Hearing it now was foreboding, and the bellows of the cats seemed to shake the earth with greater might than the fiercest of thunder rolls. She did not hear the quintescential shriek until the MarshClan cats were out of camp, deep into the swamp.
When silence took hold of the camp again, it was heavy. Sedgepaw could feel it constricting around her throat, squeezing out any prayer of speaking a word. Her tongue felt dry and was covered in bristles, as if it would hurt to speak. Not even a cricket could be heard. Someone was dying tonight.
The moon, almost in its full glory, bleached the camp with its silver shine. Everything around her seemed void of color, except Blueflower. The she-cat beside her only seemed to glow under the oppressive moonlight, and her eyes sparkled like the stars above, holding a blue so pure in their depths, Sedgepaw drank it in like it was her last drop of water. She was glad on a night so foul, she would be in the company of someone so fair.
“They should be far enough now,” Blueflower murmured. “Do you still want to come with me?”
“Of course!” Sedgepaw replied, a bit too loudly. She chuckled nervously when she heard a grumble of protest from someone sleeping in the warriors den.
Blueflower laughed softly. “We haven’t even left yet and you’re going to blow our cover.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Sedgepaw whispered, ears flattened with embarrassment. “Uh, Heronpaw didn’t really seem to care where I went. He was already heading off to bed when I came out of the medicine den.” She decided to leave out the bit about having to be back by moonhigh; she did not want to risk spoiling their outing… especially if it meant she finally would have the freedom to say whatever she wanted.
Blueflower nodded before leading Sedgepaw towards the wall of sawgrass. In the dead of night, the tall, brittle stalks of grass seemed even taller, for their shadows stretched to engulf Sedgepaw, dimming her vision. As she followed Blueflower into the grasses, she relied on her sense of smell to guide her; Blueflower’s sweet scent was like a light at the end of the tunnel as they ventured deeper and deeper into the dense forest of sawgrass and sugarcane. Brushing through the serrated stalks, Sedgepaw realized they were heading east, away from the palmetto grove.
The mud was thicker as they trekked onward. Sedgepaw only traversed this way during her initial induction as an apprentice, when she was introduced to every last inch of the territory. Before long, the mud was almost up to their shoulders, and Sedgepaw was struggling to push through; her long, thick fur only felt longer and thicker as peat began to clump her pelt into gooey mats. The stench of the bog violated her nostrils, and she glanced around wildly as she noticed Blueflower’s scent becoming fainter. She could see movement a foxlength ahead and flopped desperately to catch up. All matters of pondweed and algae were made airborne in her scramble, littering her pelt with more vegetation than an old turtle’s shell. By the time she reached Blueflower, she was gasping for air, eyes wide.
“Smooth, careful movements make the navigation easier,” Blueflower advised calmly. Sedgepaw felt her face grow hot when she saw the gleam of amusement in the warrior’s blue eyes. “If you keep splashing like a fish out of water, you will tire yourself out, and draw unwanted attention.”
“Right, sorry.” Sedgepaw grunted, trying not to giveaway how out of breath she was.
After what seemed like moons, the mud slowly thinned into water. Sedgepaw’s muscles could relax now that they waded through a pool that only came halfway up their legs, free of the murky bog that cushioned the surface before. Sedgepaw could see the rippling reflection of the moon, distorted by driftwood and leafage, at its brightest. Scorchface would be getting her throat slit right about now… Sedgepaw shivered. A constant hum of mosquitoes in her ears thankfully drowned out her imaginings of Scorchface’s helpless gurgles as her lifeblood soaked the earth. The vision of Vinestripe returned, and Sedgepaw realized Scorchface probably wasn’t the first to meet such a grisly end.
However, she could not let the thought haunt her for long, for Blueflower reached the shoreline. Unlike herself, she her pelt was sleek after getting rinsed by the pool. When Sedgepaw saw her step into the full gleam of the moon, she was glowing again. In contrast, when she stepped out of the pool and onto the shore beside her, she could feel the slimy concoction of pondweed and mud dripping from her pelt, sliding down her broad chest and shoulders like foul-smelling slugs.
“Did you want to bring the swamp as a souvenir?” Blueflower teased.
Sedgepaw would be bristling if her fur was not so waterlogged. “Ha, ha, you got jokes,” she grumbled dryly.
Laughing, Blueflower sprang off from the shore, pushing passed the reeds and into the darkness. Sedgepaw rolled her eyes and lept after her, crashing through the fronds of cattails and broad, spade-shaped leaves of duck potato until she reached the foot of the cypress swamp forest. Nocturnal creatures could be heard grunting and rustling in its depths, and Sedgepaw stiffened when she realized she never went out this deep in the territory at night.
“We’re almost there,” Blueflower assured her.
Nodding quietly, Sedgepaw fell in behind the warrior as she led the way into the woods. A thick understory of ferns and and shrubbery greeted them, but when Blueflower ducked beneath the tangle of flora, Sedgepaw was surprised when she followed to see a tiny trail stamped out for them ahead. Lit by moonlight, the trail snaked through the cypress, leading deeper into the shadowy abyss. Sedgepaw was astounded by the beautiful collection of fetterbush, which were draped with their pink blossoms, and honey-bloom decorated with their white flowers, lining the trail.
“Twolegs used to follow this trail long ago back when Marshstar ruled,” Blueflower murmured as they walked, side-by-side, down the path.
“Twolegs?” Sedgepaw echoed. She only ever heard stories about them. They were hard to imagine… upright-walking, furless creatures, that used their paws to grab and pull things… they didn’t even have tails! “They left after the Great Storm, didn’t they?” Sedgepaw was spooked by the thought of seeing one.
Blueflower nodded. “After the Great Storm, the path was almost lost to flooding and fallen trees, but overtime, it returned. So many cats have walked it that it could never be lost.”
“Why are you showing me this?” Sedgepaw pressed, anticipation kneading at her, coaxing her impatience to stir. “What are you leading me to?”
“I want you to see the Starlit Springs before your test. I want you to see it for what it is, not what they want it to be,” she explained.
Sedgepaw frowned, feeling more confused than before. Seeing the Starlit Springs before one’s final test was frowned upon, but not forbidden. Leaders and medicine cats alike believed an apprentice should not interact with their ancestors before they were warriors, for their own safety. Sedgepaw heard of many young cats “spirited away” by their ancestors, disappearing into the spring, never to be seen again. To her, it seemed like just a tale used to scare kits.
However, as they drew closer to Starlit Springs, Sedgepaw felt her paws grow cold. Would her ancestors be decorated in their battle wounds like Vinestripe, or would they be made of stardust and moonlight? Her heart rattled against her ribcage like a startled bird when she realized meeting her ancestors meant she would be meeting StarClan… the very entity that prophesied her revolution, that warned against her and her littermates’ birth. She froze in her steps, and Blueflower turned, concern alight in her blue eyes.
“Sedgepaw?”
“I don’t think I can do this,” she admitted. Her eyes were wide as moons. She knew beyond the ferns and myrtle bushes ahead waited her Deity. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Blueflower paused. The music of crickets and frogs sang between them, ringing in Sedgepaw’s ears as she struggled to comprehend what lay ahead. She tail trembled. Suddenly, Blueflower was a mouselength away from her, breathing softly, staring at her with a small smile.
“You don’t have to see,” she mewed. “The Starlit Springs are as beautiful as they are dangerous. If you’re mind and heart are vulnerable, you could be lost to Them. But… I feel like you would benefit from seeing this on your own accord, not with the pressure of your test.”
Sedgepaw pondered. This was a risk and an opportunity. If StarClan did meet her at the springs, maybe they could explain what the prophecy meant. Sedgepaw gazed into Blueflower’s eyes, and a sense of security bundled her pounding heart in a swathe of silk, slowing it to an even, steady beat.
“Okay,” Sedgepaw muttered. “I’ll go.”
Nodding, Blueflower pushed through the undergrowth. Sedgepaw hesitated, waiting for a noise or a scent… anything that would tell her StarClan was there to greet her. Instead, she heard nothing but the cricket song, and smelled only the sweet scent of Blueflower. Inhaling deeply, she pushed through the shrubbery. Leaves flitted down at her paws, one catching a gentle breeze that carried it to the surface of Starlit Springs.
The ripple caused by the leaf’s landing travelled across a crystal-clear river. Sedgepaw never witnessed such a translucent body of water in her life. She could see straight to the bottom, where sand as pale as moonlight rested amongst submerged boulders of porous stone speckled with patches of red algae and blue-green moss. Beautiful streams of eelgrass flowed gently along the sides of the spring like long, green bird feathers. On the surface, the faint reflection of the stars struggled to shine against the pellucid springs, and the moon glowed weakly at the surface.
“This is… beautiful,” Sedgepaw murmured, breathless.
Blueflower nodded. “Sit still and be quiet now,” she mewed. “You have to see this.”
Sedgepaw became statuesque, fear emanating off her pelt as the ripple in the water ceased. A warm breeze caused the willow branches overhanging the bank to shudder, stirring the messy strands of moss at their claw-like tips. Then, a light, small and yellow, flickered above the spring. Sedgepaw’s golden eyes widened. Another light appeared, flashing and vanishing. Then another, and another. Before long, an array of lights sparkled like tiny embers hovering over the spring shining for a heartbeat before dimming, only to return again. The lights took turns glowing, and the more Sedgepaw stared, the more they began to look like stars, materializing in thin air to dance above the water. She felt a lump in her throat as they bounced to a silent rhythm, shining harmoniously so that the water’s surface was never robbed of their glow.
She glanced at Blueflower, and saw that her eyes mirrored her own in their sheer awe. She wanted to say something, but Blueflower shook her head silently, nodding to the lights. One seemed to drift away from the water, approaching the shore. Sedgepaw stiffened, seeing the light come closer, closer… Would it burn her?
She winced as the light blinked below her whiskers, shining on her face with a soft glow. Painless. Sedgepaw’s eyes widened as more lights joined the first, surrounding her with their gentle flickers. They floated to Blueflower too, sparking and swirling around her blue-gray fur, highlighting every muscle and curve on her body. Sedgepaw was distracted by the warrior’s beauty so much she did not even realize one of the lights landed on her nose. It tickled! She sneezed and watched the little piece of starlight twirl over her head.
Blueflower started laughing, and Sedgepaw could not help but join her. The lights remained despite the noise, silently pirouetting along the shoreline. Sedgepaw was at a loss for words.
“They’re called fireflies,” Blueflower whispered, smiling softly.
“Fireflies,” Sedgepaw echoed in wonder.
“They shine like the stars, don’t they?” Blueflower gazed across the spring, where more fireflies congregated in a crystalline ballroom beneath the moon, waltzing along the surface. “Legend has it, fireflies hold the souls of the lost, and when they blink, it is the lost soul calling for their brethren, longing to join them among the stars.”
Sedgepaw became crestfallen, and suddenly the once light-hearted dance of the fireflies melted into a sorrowful display of wandering spirits. “That’s so sad.” Her ears perked with alarm. “Are the Fallen lost?”
“The Fallen are those lost souls, Sedgepaw,” Blueflower clarified, her voice cracking with emotion. “They’re trapped here. Away from the stars, forever. That’s their fate, according to the medicine cats. Doomed to roam this blood-soaked earth until the end of time…”
“That’s awful… What can we do?” Sedgepaw’s voice was desperate, and her golden eyes scanned across the spring at all the fireflies quietly flickering. “Can we help them?”
“I don’t know…” Blueflower’s eyes were downcast. “I…”
Sedgepaw leaned closer, eyes softening. Gingerly, she pressed against Blueflower; though mud and weeds still clung to her thick fur, she could not help but try and comfort the warrior. She could feel Blueflower relax against her touch, and she felt a spark of warmth inside.
“It’s okay… Thank you for showing me this.”
Blueflower smiled, nodding. “Were you expecting to see StarClan?” she asked.
Sedgepaw laughed uncomfortably. “Yeah, actually. You had me thinking I would meet my maker.” She was not sure if she felt more relieved or disappointed that the springs did not harbor StarClan; she wanted answers, but she also feared what They would say.
“Not all your ancestors are in StarClan, Sedgepaw,” Blueflower mewed sadly. “Some still roam the earth… as spirits.”
“You mean like… ghosts?” Sedgepaw scoffed. “Those are just scary stories the elders tell.”
Blueflower shook her head. “No, it’s true. Ghosts, spirits, whatever you wish to call them, they are the lost souls of our ancestors that did not make it to StarClan. They had their lives stolen from them, violently, and their violent end grants them a dismal eternity.”
Sedgepaw glanced at the fireflies suspiciously. “How do you know so much about this stuff?”
When the warrior lowered her head, Sedgepaw frowned. Did she say something wrong? The vivid gleam of sadness in Blueflower’s eyes was too obvious to ignore. She could see her features darken as her gaze flickered back to the Starlit Springs.
“My parents,” she replied, her voice was heavy and saturated with solemnity. “Nettlefrost, my mother, would bring me here at night and tell me stories of MarshClan’s past.” Blueflower smiled fondly at the memory. “They were stories that Whitestar did not want us to know anymore. They were so grand! So many heroes and tales of victory, lost.” Blueflower sighed heavily, her blue eyes glistening like the spring before them. “The knowledge of the fireflies… it is forbidden, but Nettlefrost always told me: ‘to know the truth is the greatest power any warrior could ever have.’”
Sedgepaw pondered, her feathery tail swishing thoughtfully against the sandy shore. She knew Whitestar censored some stories of MarshClan’s past, but only because she believed the historical accounts were inaccurate or watered down. Could it be she was burying pieces of history she did not want to believe? Scorchface’s hisses from earlier made more sense now: You know nothing of the truth, that’s why you wish to demonize all those that dare to scrutinize. Maybe Scorchface was right? Was Whitestar really trying to hide the truth? If so, why? Sedgepaw’s head was reeling.
“Wait… You said Nettlefrost?” Sedgepaw realized that was one of the names Scorchface mentioned upon being brought to their camp. One of the names of other Fallen. “Scorchface mentioned her… Is… is she really?”
Blueflower smiled ruefully, nodding. “Yes, she is Fallen. As well as my father, Jayflight.”
“What?! That… that’s terrible.” Sedgepaw felt pitiful. She could not even imagine having her parents pulled from her and banished. To be excommunicated, forever. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. I was 8 moons old at the time. Fernstream was still in the nursery, you were just a kit. Kits aren’t allowed to watch trials.”
Sedgepaw only felt more pathetic. She was not even able to understand how or why this happened to Blueflower. She was shielded from the madness of it, and Blueflower was left to bear the pain alone. She had no siblings like she did, and no other extended kin. Sedgepaw felt her heart rot out of her chest, falling from her to bleed on the ground for Blueflower.
“You don’t need to blame yourself, and I don’t need your sympathy,” Blueflower mewed sternly, eyes flashing.
Sedgepaw stiffened. Were her emotions that readable? “I know.” She leaned closer to Blueflower, sighing softly. “I just wish I could’ve been there for you.”
“Well, you’re here now.” Blueflower’s soft mew sent Sedgepaw floating off towards the stars, getting her head caught in the heavens as she felt the other she-cat’s warmth mesh with her own like two flames meeting with a spark. “That’s all that matters.”
“I’m glad you told me about your parents, about the fireflies… everything.” Sedgepaw’s voice rolled deep from her chest with appreciation.
“It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” Blueflower’s voice was lighter now. “My parents were condemned for spreading the truth, but I promised them I would not stop just because they had to.” She was gazing at the fireflies as she spoke, eyes glazed over. “I’m not afraid of Whitestar… I’m afraid of failing them.”
“You couldn’t fail them… you’re too good.” Sedgepaw fumbled for the right words to say. Her tongue went limp, becoming nothing more than a useless piece of flesh.
“I’m not very well liked in MarshClan,” Blueflower admitted. “There are some that suspect me of carrying out my parents’ work. That’s why I am not ever allowed in the nursery and why I will probably never get an apprentice.”
“Is… is that why you--uh--don’t have a mate?” Sedgepaw’s face felt hot.
Blueflower giggled, shaking her head. “Probably,” she teased.
Sedgepaw felt weirdly happy that no warriors were interested in Blueflower because of her lineage. Though she was astounded as to why anyone would deny her. She was not sure what to make of the bubbling emotions inside of her. They boiled and brewed, threatening to burst like a geyser whenever Blueflower looked her way. Sedgepaw felt immensely awkward and hyper-aware of Blueflower’s closeness as the silence between them grew.
“We should probably head back to camp,” Blueflower decided.
Sedgepaw bolted to her paws, causing the fireflies to scatter. “Right! I almost forgot… I’m supposed to be ‘healing’ right now.”
Laughing, Blueflower headed for the trail. “Come on, before you’re missed.”
Sedgepaw hopped after the warrior, breaking through the undergrowth, only to crash into her from behind. The warrior was frozen in her tracks, and standing before her was a dark gray tabby tom. A scar marred his pelt, causing it to rumple, stretching from beneath his jaw and across his flank to his hind. Longscar. Sedgepaw remembered he was on sentinel duty.
The warrior curled his lip, yellow eyes burning bright. “And what are you lot doing up at this time?”
Blueflower took a step forward, giving Sedgepaw a meaningful glance. “I went to look for Sedgepaw; I was going to bring her a ball of moss to keep by her bed and saw she was gone.”
Longscar’s eyes flashed to Sedgepaw, and the apprentice lifted her chin defiantly. She did not like the suspicious glare in his eyes. So this is what Blueflower meant…
“Is that the way of it?” Longscar demanded.
Sedgepaw nodded. “I wanted to sneak out and watch the execution,” Sedgepaw lied, shuffling her paws guiltily. “But I got lost.”
A long pause stretched between the cats, and Longscar’s eyes were focused on Blueflower. Sedgepaw had seen a snake before, and that unblinking, hateful stare was not much different from Longscar’s right now. The warrior finally relented after Sedgepaw felt like her heart was going to burst out of its ribcage.
“Very well,” he grumbled. “I’ll be showing you both back to camp.”
“That’s not necessary--” Blueflower was interrupted by a frustrated hiss from Longscar.
“It was not an offer!” His fangs flashed as he growled. “Scorchface escaped…”
Sedgepaw’s eyes widened in shock. Scorchface escaped? How?
“What do you mean?” Blueflower pressed.
“I mean exactly what I said,” Longscar snapped. “Scorchface somehow evaded her execution. The entire camp is on high alert, and almost the entire Clan is sweeping the territory in search of her.” A dissatisfied grumble escaped him. “And what do I find? You two.” The warrior shook his head as he led them through the woods. “It’ll be a long night, that’s for sure. Whitestar’s out for blood. StarClan help the cat that gets caught in her warpath.”
Blueflower brushed against Sedgepaw as they walked alongside one another. Sedgepaw shivered, feeling someone staring at her. When she turned, Sedgepaw thought she saw a flash of amber eyes hidden in the dense undergrowth. She froze. Could it be?
“Apprentice,” Longscar hissed. “Did you forget how to walk?”
The amber eyes were unblinking as Sedgepaw started, and when she turned back to Longscar, all she could think of were the dancing fireflies. “No, Longscar!” she called back. “I’m coming.”
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Non-binary
!Rowanfur
i love SEAGULLS and my GIRLFRIEND
Pronouns: they/them, he/him
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Post by !Rowanfur on Mar 15, 2019 13:12:06 GMT -5
the plot thickens!!!!!
how exciting.... i love the lore of the fireflies, and the scenery you painted with your words! i'm excited for your next installment!
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