Post by EthanTheAnnus on Apr 10, 2019 23:11:10 GMT -5
This was born because I wondered how the Clans would deal with a zombie plague.
WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD/WOUNDS, DARK ENDING
WARNINGS: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD/WOUNDS, DARK ENDING
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
A dark figure rose above the small, tired brown tabby tom, and he turned his leaf green eyes to it more out of duty than actual curiosity.
"Give our Clan a break," he meowed, his voice sluggish and full of exhaustion. "They've been through too much these past moons; after losing both Hawkwhisper and Scarstar... I don't think they can take much more."
The dark silhouette of the cat said nothing, didn't even move as it stood there. The brown tabby tom took a cautious step forward, then another, his paws barely making a sound on the earth. He managed to make out two amber eyes, unblinking and glazed. By far the most odd things were the way the cat held themselves; they looked almost broken in the middle, like their spine had snapped and at any moment they were going to collapse into a heap. Their paws were turned inwards, like it was a struggle to keep upright, and they shook slightly, almost as if staining with the effort.
The brown tabby tom forced himself not to step back, instead carefully studying the cat before him; he could now make out it was a tom, and he took another step forward. The scent of the cat drifted to him, familiar but filled, coated with infection. He choked back the cry that threatened to burst from his throat; he knew this tom, possibly far better than anyone else.
"Inkheart?" The brown tabby's voice was barely a whisper. He didn't understand what was wrong, what had happened to the cat before him; the Inkheart he knew was a strong, noble warrior, muscles rippling under his golden pelt and not a care in the world. What was before him was undoubtedly Inkheart, his golden pelt dulled and the horrible, horrible way he held himself the only thing the brown tabby could focus on.
Wounds marred the golden tom's pelt, some still bleeding, but none of them healed. Some looked old, days and days old, yet they still sat open, exposing flesh and, the brown tabby noticed with a shiver, bone. He met Inkheart's gaze to find that his eyes, his beautiful, glowing amber eyes were not only dull, glazed and lifeless, but edged with green that seemed to be gradually leaking more and more into his gaze.
"What happened to you?" The brown tabby murmured, his gaze still locked on the golden tom. One particular wound looked the worst; a deep bite on his hindleg, one that clearly showed cracked bone beneath. The brown tabby felt sick at the sight, and then he noticed the blood sitting on Inkheart's lips. It was dried, clumps of it gathered by the corners of his mouth, and the brown tabby couldn't help but stumble back; his paw landed heavily on a twig, cracking it so, so loudly.
"StarClan!" He yowled, leaping into the air with fright before calming down. "StarClan that scared me!"
The brown tabby failed to notice the way Inkheart's head turned, ears pricking towards the noise, and the way his lips curled back. When he turned back to the golden tom, he saw him in a state that looked similar to a cat on the hunt. His teeth, sharper than the brown tabby remembered them to be, were clearly visible, blood staining them. His eyes, with that hideous green enroaching on them, were narrowed, locked onto him. With a low growl, Inkheart took a pace forward; the brown tabby winced as he heard the way the golden tom's bones cracked and clicked as he moved.
"Inkheart. It's me. It's Windleaf."
Inkheart made no inclination that he had heard, simply letting out a snarl and taking another bone cracking step. The brown tabby, Windleaf, glanced around in a slight panic.
"Inkheart! It's me! It's Windleaf! It's your mate! Please!"
Inkheart crouched, bones cracking once more, and Windleaf felt bile rise in his throat as some bones began to poke through the golden tom's pelt. He began to carefully back up, trying not to make any sudden moves; then Inkheart sprung, pinning him down. Windleaf yowled, and tried to fight his way out, but he was a medicine cat, not a warrior; he didn't stand a chance against someone as strong as Inkheart. He clenched his eyes shut, waited for the killing bite to come, but it didn't. The last thing Windleaf registered was the feeling of Inkheart's claws scratching open the back of his skull.
"Give our Clan a break," he meowed, his voice sluggish and full of exhaustion. "They've been through too much these past moons; after losing both Hawkwhisper and Scarstar... I don't think they can take much more."
The dark silhouette of the cat said nothing, didn't even move as it stood there. The brown tabby tom took a cautious step forward, then another, his paws barely making a sound on the earth. He managed to make out two amber eyes, unblinking and glazed. By far the most odd things were the way the cat held themselves; they looked almost broken in the middle, like their spine had snapped and at any moment they were going to collapse into a heap. Their paws were turned inwards, like it was a struggle to keep upright, and they shook slightly, almost as if staining with the effort.
The brown tabby tom forced himself not to step back, instead carefully studying the cat before him; he could now make out it was a tom, and he took another step forward. The scent of the cat drifted to him, familiar but filled, coated with infection. He choked back the cry that threatened to burst from his throat; he knew this tom, possibly far better than anyone else.
"Inkheart?" The brown tabby's voice was barely a whisper. He didn't understand what was wrong, what had happened to the cat before him; the Inkheart he knew was a strong, noble warrior, muscles rippling under his golden pelt and not a care in the world. What was before him was undoubtedly Inkheart, his golden pelt dulled and the horrible, horrible way he held himself the only thing the brown tabby could focus on.
Wounds marred the golden tom's pelt, some still bleeding, but none of them healed. Some looked old, days and days old, yet they still sat open, exposing flesh and, the brown tabby noticed with a shiver, bone. He met Inkheart's gaze to find that his eyes, his beautiful, glowing amber eyes were not only dull, glazed and lifeless, but edged with green that seemed to be gradually leaking more and more into his gaze.
"What happened to you?" The brown tabby murmured, his gaze still locked on the golden tom. One particular wound looked the worst; a deep bite on his hindleg, one that clearly showed cracked bone beneath. The brown tabby felt sick at the sight, and then he noticed the blood sitting on Inkheart's lips. It was dried, clumps of it gathered by the corners of his mouth, and the brown tabby couldn't help but stumble back; his paw landed heavily on a twig, cracking it so, so loudly.
"StarClan!" He yowled, leaping into the air with fright before calming down. "StarClan that scared me!"
The brown tabby failed to notice the way Inkheart's head turned, ears pricking towards the noise, and the way his lips curled back. When he turned back to the golden tom, he saw him in a state that looked similar to a cat on the hunt. His teeth, sharper than the brown tabby remembered them to be, were clearly visible, blood staining them. His eyes, with that hideous green enroaching on them, were narrowed, locked onto him. With a low growl, Inkheart took a pace forward; the brown tabby winced as he heard the way the golden tom's bones cracked and clicked as he moved.
"Inkheart. It's me. It's Windleaf."
Inkheart made no inclination that he had heard, simply letting out a snarl and taking another bone cracking step. The brown tabby, Windleaf, glanced around in a slight panic.
"Inkheart! It's me! It's Windleaf! It's your mate! Please!"
Inkheart crouched, bones cracking once more, and Windleaf felt bile rise in his throat as some bones began to poke through the golden tom's pelt. He began to carefully back up, trying not to make any sudden moves; then Inkheart sprung, pinning him down. Windleaf yowled, and tried to fight his way out, but he was a medicine cat, not a warrior; he didn't stand a chance against someone as strong as Inkheart. He clenched his eyes shut, waited for the killing bite to come, but it didn't. The last thing Windleaf registered was the feeling of Inkheart's claws scratching open the back of his skull.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
His eyes snapped open to the medicine den; the recognition that it had been a dream began to sink in. Then his leaf green eyes settled on the golden tom curled around him, and he leaped away with a loud yowl. The tom stirred, amber eyes settling on Windleaf with visible concern. It was then that the medicine cat realised the scent of infection wasn't in the air, and that Inkheart's eyes no longer had green leaking into them. He let out a breath of relief, and he slowly recognised there were no wounds marring Inkheart's pelt.
"Windleaf? Are you alright?"
"Just a dream," he replied dismissively, and instantly Inkheart was padding to Windleaf's side.
"Not another prophecy?"
"No. No, ShadowClan is safe." As soon as he said it, Windleaf felt he was lying; the sense of impending danger hadn't left him since he'd woken up, and it just seemed to be growing stronger.
"Inkheart?" The head of the Clan leader, Seedstar, popped into the den; he'd only been the leader for a few days, voted into leadership after the death of both the Clan leader Scarstar and the deputy, Hawkwhisper. Seedstar, then Seedstrike, had been the obvious choice; good at taking charge in the heat of battle, and good at thinking through decisions to do not only what was best for ShadowClan, but what was best for all the Clans around the lake. Many cats were saying he was the best leader ShadowClan had had since the notorious Tigerstar, way back when they had lived elsewhere; not that any cat alive had ever met Tigerstar personally.
Windleaf thought the best leader ShadowClan had had, other than Seedstar, was Blackstar. He knew a lot of cats in his Clan agreed with Tigerstar's ideals, and he worried some of them even agreed with Tigerstar's ideas of ruling all the Clans. Windleaf felt that Blackstar's notions to restore ShadowClan to glory without destroying everyone else in their wake was a much better ideal to have.
"Yes, Seedstar?" Inkheart moved from his position beside Windleaf to address the leader, and Windleaf felt the urge to usher him back, to keep him with him the whole day and not let him out of his sight.
"Aspenfur wants you for her patrol."
The words ignited a feeling of dread in the medicine cat, and for a moment he swore he could see the same figure, the same shell of Inkheart that he'd seen in his dreams standing right beside them.
"Don't go!" Windleaf burst out, taking a step forward. Seedstar's eyes narrowed.
"Did you have a vision?"
"Not exactly, but-" Windleaf began, only to be cut off.
"Then he will go," Seedstar meowed, and Inkheart cast a look at Windleaf that was full of regret, almost as if he were apologising on behalf of his leader. For not the first time, Windleaf felt Inkheart would make a good Clan deputy one day; the young, energetic warrior was certainly on his way there, currently mentoring an apprentice and constantly going above and beyond in his duties. It wouldn't surprise Windleaf if he did become deputy one day.
The medicine cat was shaken out of his thoughts as the two warriors left the den, and in padded Fernclaw, her gaze full of worry.
"What's wrong?" Windleaf asked, already ready to grab any herbs he may need.
"Whitekit's gotten himself all scratched up play-fighting with Reedkit and Waterkit."
"Again?" Windleaf let out a sigh. "Okay, I'll get some herbs and be right over."
"Windleaf? Are you alright?"
"Just a dream," he replied dismissively, and instantly Inkheart was padding to Windleaf's side.
"Not another prophecy?"
"No. No, ShadowClan is safe." As soon as he said it, Windleaf felt he was lying; the sense of impending danger hadn't left him since he'd woken up, and it just seemed to be growing stronger.
"Inkheart?" The head of the Clan leader, Seedstar, popped into the den; he'd only been the leader for a few days, voted into leadership after the death of both the Clan leader Scarstar and the deputy, Hawkwhisper. Seedstar, then Seedstrike, had been the obvious choice; good at taking charge in the heat of battle, and good at thinking through decisions to do not only what was best for ShadowClan, but what was best for all the Clans around the lake. Many cats were saying he was the best leader ShadowClan had had since the notorious Tigerstar, way back when they had lived elsewhere; not that any cat alive had ever met Tigerstar personally.
Windleaf thought the best leader ShadowClan had had, other than Seedstar, was Blackstar. He knew a lot of cats in his Clan agreed with Tigerstar's ideals, and he worried some of them even agreed with Tigerstar's ideas of ruling all the Clans. Windleaf felt that Blackstar's notions to restore ShadowClan to glory without destroying everyone else in their wake was a much better ideal to have.
"Yes, Seedstar?" Inkheart moved from his position beside Windleaf to address the leader, and Windleaf felt the urge to usher him back, to keep him with him the whole day and not let him out of his sight.
"Aspenfur wants you for her patrol."
The words ignited a feeling of dread in the medicine cat, and for a moment he swore he could see the same figure, the same shell of Inkheart that he'd seen in his dreams standing right beside them.
"Don't go!" Windleaf burst out, taking a step forward. Seedstar's eyes narrowed.
"Did you have a vision?"
"Not exactly, but-" Windleaf began, only to be cut off.
"Then he will go," Seedstar meowed, and Inkheart cast a look at Windleaf that was full of regret, almost as if he were apologising on behalf of his leader. For not the first time, Windleaf felt Inkheart would make a good Clan deputy one day; the young, energetic warrior was certainly on his way there, currently mentoring an apprentice and constantly going above and beyond in his duties. It wouldn't surprise Windleaf if he did become deputy one day.
The medicine cat was shaken out of his thoughts as the two warriors left the den, and in padded Fernclaw, her gaze full of worry.
"What's wrong?" Windleaf asked, already ready to grab any herbs he may need.
"Whitekit's gotten himself all scratched up play-fighting with Reedkit and Waterkit."
"Again?" Windleaf let out a sigh. "Okay, I'll get some herbs and be right over."
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
The morning passed uneventfully after treating Whitekit, leaving Windleaf time to sort out his herbs and get rid of ones that were old and dried out and no longer useful. After he'd done this, he got himself a vole from the fresh-kill pile and had barely taken a few bites of it when a loud yowl made him come padding from his den; the patrol Inkheart was a part of had returned, but instead of trotting joyously alongside them, the patrol was carrying the warrior. Wounds marred his pelt, and Windleaf told himself that he was merely imagining they were in the same place as his dream.
"Windleaf!" Aspenfur, the Clan deputy and Windleaf's sister, spotted him and relief filled her gaze. "We found a rogue in our territory; he was acting odd and Inkheart went to try and chase him and off and well... it was weird..."
"That can wait," Windleaf snapped, eyes fixed on the injured form of Inkheart. "Get him into the den."
The ShadowClan cats quickly moved the golden tom into the medicine den, and Windleaf's eyes settled on the worst wound of them all; a deep bite in Inkheart's hind leg, deep enough to reveal bone. Windleaf's pelt fluffed out in fear; was his dream going to come true?
He quickly set to work, chewing up herbs to apply to his wounds and then wrapping them tight with cobwebs. When he was done, he stepped back to check he hadn't missed any; Inkheart let out a groan and his amber eyes flickered open for a second. Windleaf was sure he was just imagining the hint of green in the tom's gaze.
He padded from the den to find Aspenfur, who was sitting in a far corner of the camp, a sparrow in front of her, completely untouched.
"What was so weird?"
"About what? The rogue?" Aspenfur bent down to take a bite of sparrow, and Windleaf noted how small it was; his sister was definitely shaken up.
"Yes. The rogue." Windleaf sat down neatly beside her, curling his tail over his forepaws.
"Well... he didn't seem to have any fighting technique. And everytime he moved, there was this sound, like bones cracking. After he got his teeth into Inkheart's leg, he... I don't know why, but he went for Inkheart's head. Looked like he was trying to get into his skull, to his brains or something? It was really, really weird."
"Did you see his eyes?" Windleaf asked urgently, leaning closer.
"Well, yes." Aspenfur looked confused. "Why?"
"Were they edged with green? Like it was slowly spilling into them?"
"Windleaf, is something wrong?"
"Answer my question!" Desperation had crept into the medicine cat's tone, and Aspenfur looked startled.
"Yes," she said finally. "Yes, they were."
Windleaf leaped to his paws. "I have to warn Seedstar!"
"Wait! Windleaf! What is going on?" Aspenfur called after him as he began to trot quickly across the clearing, in the direction of the leader's den, his mind set on making Seedstar believe him.
"Windleaf!" Aspenfur, the Clan deputy and Windleaf's sister, spotted him and relief filled her gaze. "We found a rogue in our territory; he was acting odd and Inkheart went to try and chase him and off and well... it was weird..."
"That can wait," Windleaf snapped, eyes fixed on the injured form of Inkheart. "Get him into the den."
The ShadowClan cats quickly moved the golden tom into the medicine den, and Windleaf's eyes settled on the worst wound of them all; a deep bite in Inkheart's hind leg, deep enough to reveal bone. Windleaf's pelt fluffed out in fear; was his dream going to come true?
He quickly set to work, chewing up herbs to apply to his wounds and then wrapping them tight with cobwebs. When he was done, he stepped back to check he hadn't missed any; Inkheart let out a groan and his amber eyes flickered open for a second. Windleaf was sure he was just imagining the hint of green in the tom's gaze.
He padded from the den to find Aspenfur, who was sitting in a far corner of the camp, a sparrow in front of her, completely untouched.
"What was so weird?"
"About what? The rogue?" Aspenfur bent down to take a bite of sparrow, and Windleaf noted how small it was; his sister was definitely shaken up.
"Yes. The rogue." Windleaf sat down neatly beside her, curling his tail over his forepaws.
"Well... he didn't seem to have any fighting technique. And everytime he moved, there was this sound, like bones cracking. After he got his teeth into Inkheart's leg, he... I don't know why, but he went for Inkheart's head. Looked like he was trying to get into his skull, to his brains or something? It was really, really weird."
"Did you see his eyes?" Windleaf asked urgently, leaning closer.
"Well, yes." Aspenfur looked confused. "Why?"
"Were they edged with green? Like it was slowly spilling into them?"
"Windleaf, is something wrong?"
"Answer my question!" Desperation had crept into the medicine cat's tone, and Aspenfur looked startled.
"Yes," she said finally. "Yes, they were."
Windleaf leaped to his paws. "I have to warn Seedstar!"
"Wait! Windleaf! What is going on?" Aspenfur called after him as he began to trot quickly across the clearing, in the direction of the leader's den, his mind set on making Seedstar believe him.
*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*
Time passed quickly after that. Inkheart was quarantined, and his wounds, though they didn't get any worse or become infected, refused to heal. The tom slowly began to regain consciousness more and more often, and then one day the whole of ShadowClan had to evacuate camp; Inkheart was attacking every cat within sight, bones cracking as he moved and eyes fixed on victim after victim. Windleaf spotted him crack open a cat's skull and begin to devour their brains before he managed to make it out.
Only a small band of them escaped, and they quickly began to warn the other Clans; Windleaf later discovered the cat whose brains Inkheart had been munching on was none other than his sister Aspenfur. Out of the whole of ShadowClan, only seven cats escaped; Windleaf, Seedstar, Fernclaw, Buckheart, Whitekit, Wrenfeather and Oaktail. Their group grew as cats from WindClan, ThunderClan, RiverClan and SkyClan fled with them; unfortunately, only a small handful of cats believed his story, and soon the Clans were all infected, or dead, apart from their small band of cats.
And so they began to try and find ways to survive, ways to avoid the living dead as they had begun to think of them as. Some became kittypets, believing this to be safer. Others suggested leaving, to find a new territory. In the end, this was what they did; all except for Windleaf. He refused to leave behind the place he knew, where his life had been lived and memories built.
And so his dream came true, in the end; he was eventually surrounded by the infected, one of which was Inkheart. Despite himself, Windleaf smiled.
"Hello, my love," he meowed, then closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate.
Only a small band of them escaped, and they quickly began to warn the other Clans; Windleaf later discovered the cat whose brains Inkheart had been munching on was none other than his sister Aspenfur. Out of the whole of ShadowClan, only seven cats escaped; Windleaf, Seedstar, Fernclaw, Buckheart, Whitekit, Wrenfeather and Oaktail. Their group grew as cats from WindClan, ThunderClan, RiverClan and SkyClan fled with them; unfortunately, only a small handful of cats believed his story, and soon the Clans were all infected, or dead, apart from their small band of cats.
And so they began to try and find ways to survive, ways to avoid the living dead as they had begun to think of them as. Some became kittypets, believing this to be safer. Others suggested leaving, to find a new territory. In the end, this was what they did; all except for Windleaf. He refused to leave behind the place he knew, where his life had been lived and memories built.
And so his dream came true, in the end; he was eventually surrounded by the infected, one of which was Inkheart. Despite himself, Windleaf smiled.
"Hello, my love," he meowed, then closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate.