Post by Mosspool on May 22, 2017 14:03:21 GMT -5
They tell stories of him. Of the cat from moons ago, who had been a force unlike any other. He became a story that queens told their kits in hushed voices late at night, the kits falling asleep with dreams of adventure and thrills in their minds. He wasn’t the typical hero of a story. He had no magical powers, no special skills, he never defeated a mighty villain. Instead he had something that the queens appreciated and wanted to pass on to their kits- courage and strength of heart.
Each night, the queens in BirchClan tell the story of the rogue hero. They tell this story of the greatest storm.
This cat lived a sad, yet ordinary life. His mother, a beautiful she-cat with an abundance of prey and territory named Sleet fell in love with a grumpy, reclusive tom called Silver. She loved his quiet wit and her elegance and charm brought him out of his lonesome ways and they both fell madly and quickly in love with each other. However they would not live happily ever after.
When Sleet discovered she was expecting kits, Silver became fearful. Even though he had grown to accept Sleet, he still preferred to be alone. Raising a bundle of lively, wild kits on the way… he didn’t think he could do it. So one day he vanished, leaving behind no trace. Sleet never saw him again.
Sleet gave birth alone, right next to the river at sunset. Her family had abandoned her when she fell in love with Silver, believing that a cat of her status and beauty could do better. When she had returned to them after Silver had left, her father had scoffed at her and turned her away. Even her sister, who upon learning of Sleet’s pregnancy had looked at her with pity, did not reach out and find her.
Two of the four kits had been stillborn. The other two survived and were strong, in fact they were stronger than their mother. With no one to help her, Sleet became very weak during her kitting and as the moon rose up high in the sky, she drew her last breath.
The two surviving kits, both toms, bounced from home to home, going from the grouchy, old she-cat who had found them on the riverbank, to the kindhearted tom who took them in. However, tragedy followed the two kits wherever they went. The old she-cat died of old age in her sleep one night, while the good-natured tom was taken out by a fox. They only spent a moon at most in each home. As a result, the kits never were named, their guardians always claiming some reason why they were not given one. The old she-cat was scatter-brained and forgot, the kits not being old enough to recognize their names anyways. Another cat believed that she should get to know them better before naming them, but she ultimately abandoned them.
By the time that they were six moons old, the kits decided to live by themselves in the forest and it is here that they finally were named. The youngest called himself Mouse, but the other kit could not think of anything that suited him.
Eventually the two were taken in by an elderly tom, who found them wandering the woods alone, trying to hunt. He gave them each a squirrel and a warm bed to sleep in.
“What are your names?” the old tom asked, his voice creaky.
Mouse, his golden brown fur shining in the sun, piped up, “I’m Mouse!”
The elderly cat purred. “Nice to meet you Mouse. I’m Oak,” he said. He looked at the other kit. “What’s your name young’un?”
The kit shook his head. “I don’t have one,” he replied.
“Huh? You don’t have a name?” Oak exclaimed.
The kit shook his head once more.
“Well, we ought to name you then,” Oak said.
The young tom protested, “I don’t want one yet.”
“Why is that?”
The kit looked solemnly up at the old tom. “We have our name for our entire life right?” he asked.
“Of course,” answered Oak.
“I want my name to be special. I want it to mean something. I think that’s why I haven’t been named yet,” he declared.
The old tom chuckled, “Well if that’s what you want, that’s fine by me.”
Mouse and his brother eventually grew into handsome young toms, living with Oak until he passed away. The two brothers were very close and did practically everything together. Mouse was puzzled by his brother. He still did not have a name. Mouse frequently suggested options for his brother but the unnamed tom was adamant about his decision. He wanted his name to be special.
One day, a massive windstorm began. The trees shook, leaves whipped through the air, and prey scurried inside their burrows to hide. The two brothers were starving and crept out of their den to see if there was anything to eat.
The wind howled ominously in the sky, and when Mouse looked up he could see the clouds forming an odd shape. He dug his claws into the ground, it felt like the wind was going to carry him away.
He was still staring at the clouds as he said to his brother, “We should head back. I don’t like the look of this cloud.”
There was no response. When he turned around, his brother was not there.
“Brother!” he called out. “Where are you?”
A distant creaking sound startled him, followed by a crash and a familiar yelp.
“Brother! Are you okay?” Mouse dashed towards the source of the sound. The wind picked up and buffeted his fur, but he kept going.
“Mouse! Help!” his brother cried.
He arrived to see his brother crushed under the weight of a massive tree branch. Mouse gasped and rushed towards him.
“What happened?” he asked.
His brother grunted. “I thought I smelled a vole, so I went looking for it. The wind broke the tree branch and it crushed me.”
He attempted a smile. “We really were idiots for coming out in the storm.”
Mouse suppressed a purr of amusement. “We have to get you out of there.”
The trapped tom glanced at the sky. “It looks like it’s getting worse. Go home, I’ll be fine,” he said.
“What?” Mouse exclaimed. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt too,” his brother replied.
Mouse sighed. “I’m going to get you out.”
“But-”
“Stop being dramatic,” Mouse said. “We need to be quick.”
He shoved himself up against the branch. It shifted slightly but still didn’t budge.
“Come on. You need to help too,” he said to his brother.
His brother shook his head. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”
Mouse looked his brother right in the eye. “Hey, you are the strongest cat I know. Look at all we’ve been through. If you can survive being abandoned and growing up without anyone but each other, you can survive a piece of wood,” he said.
His brother nodded and the two toms pushed against the wood until they were panting. Finally the branch rolled off of the trapped tom. He staggered to his feet and leaned on Mouse’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
“No problem,” Mouse replied. “I’d never leave you stuck there.
His brother shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. You’re right. I’m strong. We both are.”
Mouse nuzzled him. “I’m glad you think that, brother.”
“Call me Storm.”
Mouse glanced at him in surprise. Storm smirked.
“I’m stopping letting our past define me. I was always upset about never being named. I let it control me. But now I think I’m too strong for that. I’m like a storm. Strong,” he explained.
The two brothers made their way back to their den to wait out the rest of the storm. And like the queens always tell their kits as they finish up the story…”That’s just part one.”
Each night, the queens in BirchClan tell the story of the rogue hero. They tell this story of the greatest storm.
This cat lived a sad, yet ordinary life. His mother, a beautiful she-cat with an abundance of prey and territory named Sleet fell in love with a grumpy, reclusive tom called Silver. She loved his quiet wit and her elegance and charm brought him out of his lonesome ways and they both fell madly and quickly in love with each other. However they would not live happily ever after.
When Sleet discovered she was expecting kits, Silver became fearful. Even though he had grown to accept Sleet, he still preferred to be alone. Raising a bundle of lively, wild kits on the way… he didn’t think he could do it. So one day he vanished, leaving behind no trace. Sleet never saw him again.
Sleet gave birth alone, right next to the river at sunset. Her family had abandoned her when she fell in love with Silver, believing that a cat of her status and beauty could do better. When she had returned to them after Silver had left, her father had scoffed at her and turned her away. Even her sister, who upon learning of Sleet’s pregnancy had looked at her with pity, did not reach out and find her.
Two of the four kits had been stillborn. The other two survived and were strong, in fact they were stronger than their mother. With no one to help her, Sleet became very weak during her kitting and as the moon rose up high in the sky, she drew her last breath.
The two surviving kits, both toms, bounced from home to home, going from the grouchy, old she-cat who had found them on the riverbank, to the kindhearted tom who took them in. However, tragedy followed the two kits wherever they went. The old she-cat died of old age in her sleep one night, while the good-natured tom was taken out by a fox. They only spent a moon at most in each home. As a result, the kits never were named, their guardians always claiming some reason why they were not given one. The old she-cat was scatter-brained and forgot, the kits not being old enough to recognize their names anyways. Another cat believed that she should get to know them better before naming them, but she ultimately abandoned them.
By the time that they were six moons old, the kits decided to live by themselves in the forest and it is here that they finally were named. The youngest called himself Mouse, but the other kit could not think of anything that suited him.
Eventually the two were taken in by an elderly tom, who found them wandering the woods alone, trying to hunt. He gave them each a squirrel and a warm bed to sleep in.
“What are your names?” the old tom asked, his voice creaky.
Mouse, his golden brown fur shining in the sun, piped up, “I’m Mouse!”
The elderly cat purred. “Nice to meet you Mouse. I’m Oak,” he said. He looked at the other kit. “What’s your name young’un?”
The kit shook his head. “I don’t have one,” he replied.
“Huh? You don’t have a name?” Oak exclaimed.
The kit shook his head once more.
“Well, we ought to name you then,” Oak said.
The young tom protested, “I don’t want one yet.”
“Why is that?”
The kit looked solemnly up at the old tom. “We have our name for our entire life right?” he asked.
“Of course,” answered Oak.
“I want my name to be special. I want it to mean something. I think that’s why I haven’t been named yet,” he declared.
The old tom chuckled, “Well if that’s what you want, that’s fine by me.”
Mouse and his brother eventually grew into handsome young toms, living with Oak until he passed away. The two brothers were very close and did practically everything together. Mouse was puzzled by his brother. He still did not have a name. Mouse frequently suggested options for his brother but the unnamed tom was adamant about his decision. He wanted his name to be special.
One day, a massive windstorm began. The trees shook, leaves whipped through the air, and prey scurried inside their burrows to hide. The two brothers were starving and crept out of their den to see if there was anything to eat.
The wind howled ominously in the sky, and when Mouse looked up he could see the clouds forming an odd shape. He dug his claws into the ground, it felt like the wind was going to carry him away.
He was still staring at the clouds as he said to his brother, “We should head back. I don’t like the look of this cloud.”
There was no response. When he turned around, his brother was not there.
“Brother!” he called out. “Where are you?”
A distant creaking sound startled him, followed by a crash and a familiar yelp.
“Brother! Are you okay?” Mouse dashed towards the source of the sound. The wind picked up and buffeted his fur, but he kept going.
“Mouse! Help!” his brother cried.
He arrived to see his brother crushed under the weight of a massive tree branch. Mouse gasped and rushed towards him.
“What happened?” he asked.
His brother grunted. “I thought I smelled a vole, so I went looking for it. The wind broke the tree branch and it crushed me.”
He attempted a smile. “We really were idiots for coming out in the storm.”
Mouse suppressed a purr of amusement. “We have to get you out of there.”
The trapped tom glanced at the sky. “It looks like it’s getting worse. Go home, I’ll be fine,” he said.
“What?” Mouse exclaimed. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt too,” his brother replied.
Mouse sighed. “I’m going to get you out.”
“But-”
“Stop being dramatic,” Mouse said. “We need to be quick.”
He shoved himself up against the branch. It shifted slightly but still didn’t budge.
“Come on. You need to help too,” he said to his brother.
His brother shook his head. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”
Mouse looked his brother right in the eye. “Hey, you are the strongest cat I know. Look at all we’ve been through. If you can survive being abandoned and growing up without anyone but each other, you can survive a piece of wood,” he said.
His brother nodded and the two toms pushed against the wood until they were panting. Finally the branch rolled off of the trapped tom. He staggered to his feet and leaned on Mouse’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
“No problem,” Mouse replied. “I’d never leave you stuck there.
His brother shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. You’re right. I’m strong. We both are.”
Mouse nuzzled him. “I’m glad you think that, brother.”
“Call me Storm.”
Mouse glanced at him in surprise. Storm smirked.
“I’m stopping letting our past define me. I was always upset about never being named. I let it control me. But now I think I’m too strong for that. I’m like a storm. Strong,” he explained.
The two brothers made their way back to their den to wait out the rest of the storm. And like the queens always tell their kits as they finish up the story…”That’s just part one.”
