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Post by mintedstar/fur on Jun 29, 2017 18:32:52 GMT -5
)) The Stories ((
Prompt 30: Island
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Near the end.)
แดแดแดsแด
แดส
Island Prisoner
I grew up on stories about how my father died. I was orphaned at six moons, my last living parent dying to winter greencough. Thatโs all that they have ever told me about my mother. But oh, my father. They sing his name, chant his name into my ear. I am not allowed to forget how he suffered. I am not allowed to forget how to hate.
I am the last kit born to a full blooded RiverClan cat. We are still called RiverClan, but our names and customs have withered away. I was raised by a she-cat called Willa Cloud. That is how are names are going. We are slowly fading into the customs of the bordering wildcats. Once, five or six years ago, she might have been called Willowcloud.
My father died in the Feline War. The Toxic War. I am never allowed to question his motives for fighting or who it is that is now kept on the island in the center of the lake.
Toxic. Questions are poison, like the sickness that the paranormals bring. I hear that word โparanormalโ whispered. I asked once, and Willa looked at me with real fear in her eyes. She couldnโt tell me, something in her memories stopping her.
So, I am quiet with my questions. I want to know more beyond the stories that the elders whisper in my ears. I want to know more about the war that my father fought in, back when I hadnโt even opened my eyes.
โWho is the prisoner on the island?โ I ask an older apprentice, quiet and out of earshot of Willa and his mother. His eyes widen and looks around, but in muttered words he says, โWe donโt talk about him.โ
โWhy is he a prisoner,โ I ask, hoping I can get away with another question.
โBecause,โ he says, backing away as he looks over at his mother. He doesnโt want to get into trouble. โBecause no one can kill him.โ
My small claws dig into the soft grass as I hold in a dozen more questions. Why canโt they answer me? How can all of them know but me?
But not all of them do know about the prisoner or the Toxic War. Other young apprentices and kits secretly ask questions, just like I do. If they ask the wrong warrior, they are chastised. But some, some feel we have a right to know.
โCome closer, Kindred,โ an elder says to me one day. Thatโs me. The ex-rogues and loners often call us by only the first half of our name. Is it any wonder that this is hardly a clan anymore? The apprentices are trained by all, for another example, not a single mentor.
I only know how it used to be thanks to Willa Cloud.
I step closer to the old cat, ears held high. He leans forward and whispers to me, โYou are a curious young she-cat, arenโt you? I hear you asking about the prisoner on the island. Why are you so interested?โ
My fur prickles. Am I about to be yelled at? It had happened before and I felt my body preparing for it.
โI want to know why my father had to die,โ I answer honestly.
The elderโs eyes narrow, but he doesnโt look like he is about to berate me. โHe died because of the cat on the island,โ he answered. โThat is the cat who caused the Feline War. Kept there, on that island, because he was betrayed by his own kind. The only cat who could trap him was the only cat that could free him.โ
โWhat happened to that cat?โ I breathed, already knowing the answer.
The elder grinned, and I canโt say I liked it. โWe killed her. The freak and her frost covered paws.โ
I couldnโt help it. I backed up. War is a horrid thing. Cats die. I told myself that. But I donโt think I could believe the reassurance.
***
I was a warrior by the time I finally got to meet the island prisoner. By that time, most of the holes in my fatherโs story had been filled. All but one. Why?
Why had this cat started a war?
โHe doesnโt eat or sleep,โ they whispered in my ear. โHe needs no guards and nothing he shouts to the skies can be heard by anything but the birds. His poisoned words canโt touch us.โ
But I still left and they didnโt try to stop me, beyond the warnings that were shouted to my back. Iโd gained a reputation for being rebellious and by StarClan and the shadows, I wasnโt going to lose that now. Because it got me things. Answers and in some cases, much needed silence.
I think that what was left of RiverClan thought I would never return. And maybe I wouldnโt, no matter if this prisoner gave me answers or not.
I padded around the territory first, even though the quickest way to swim to the island was within our borders. The tree that had once crossed to the island had been removed long before I was kitted. Thatโs an interesting story to tell, by the way. Maybe Iโll tell it, if I ever learn the full thing.
I walked. WindClan is still there, though even more rag-tag and rogue-like than we are. ShadowClan keeps to themselves, but I think that they must have held on better to the old ways than we have.
ThunderClanโฆ The silent forest. The quiet skies.
Nothing remains of them. The prisoner on the island, I was told, hit them and WindClan the hardest. WindClan escaped, only to return a year later to take back their home. But ThunderClan was lost, almost every single warrior.
As I look out at the quiet woods, only full of the sounds of birds and wildlife, my fur bristles. I sniff the air, trying to catch a scent that probably no longer exists anywhere in this world. How could a single cat cause so much damage?
The whispers return, of my clanmates, even though they arenโt around me anymore.
โHe can take any form, from a dog to an eagle. Nothing can kill him, neither claws nor the worst sickness.โ
I snort. They make him sound more powerful than even StarClan. Their stories have blown him up into a demon or god.
I continue to walk until the sky is gray and I rest for the night, unwilling to face this โmonsterโ at night. I like to see what Iโm going to try and talk to.
***
The next morning, I swim to the island. Even before I get there, I see the several inches of frost that is laid on the pebbly shore. My paws stop as they hit the shallows.
I heed one warning from my clanmates. Donโt cross the border. Cross the border and you are never allowed back over. I wonder if that meant that others are on this island or if only their skeletons remain. I shudder at the thought.
โHello!โ I call out into the bushes and trees. โHello, Prisoner! Can you hear me?โ
No response and I open my mouth to yowl again, when someone steps out of the bushes.
Why my clanmates thought this tom was a monster, I do not understand. He is slightly small for his apparent age. Tabby stripes cross his body and amber eyes consider my blue with deep confusion. He steps fully out onto the pebble covered beach and the only thing that stands out to me is that his tail is almost as long as he is. Two cat lengths instead of the usual one. I also notice that he doesnโt touch the line of frost.
โWho are you?โ he asks.
I stand a little taller. โIโm called Kindred,โ I say, deciding to use only use the first part of my name to show that I didnโt want answers as a RiverClan cat.
He blinks. โIs that all?โ He looks like heโs about to turn around again and I take a step forward, one wet paw now almost touching the line of frost. His tail twitches, I notice, and Iโm careful not to touch the line.
โI want to talk to you,โ I say. โI wanted to ask you a couple of questions.โ
He twitches his ear now, as if to signal that he is listening. I wish he would say something. This seems so one-sided, when Iโm the one looking for answers, but Iโm the one who is talking.
โWhy?โ I finally ask, looking at the line of frost and not meeting his amber eyes.
He seems to know what Iโm talking about anyway. โTo save my family.โ
I look up. Such a simple answer, yet it answers everything and nothing. โYou have a family?โ I asked, mouth falling open. Even in all those whispers, my clanmates had never told me that the Prisoner had had something soโฆmortalโฆ as a family.
The Prisoner dipped his head, eyes sparkling with a touch of amusement at my shock. โI had a mate and kits. Many friends. A whole clan. You are asking such a big question, Kindred. But I feel you know so little. Like you are trying to piece together a puzzle that no cat holds all the pieces to.โ
I took another step forward. That was a statement I knew so well. Cat after cat had said it to me back at RiverClan, right before they walked away.
My paw was on the line and right then and there I knew that this search for information had grown into an obsession. An unhealthy obsession that had already caused me to ignore all the rules.
The Prisonerโs ears were laid back as he eyed my paws. โBack up,โ he said in a quiet voice. Fear. I could hear fear in his voice. He was scared, but of what? Of my actions?
They called this cat a starter of wars? It seemed so ridiculous.
โNot until I get answers,โ I said. My eyes narrowed as they met his, and he seemed to give in and sit down.
Good, I thought. โWhat is your name?โ I asked, after another lengthy second.
He seemed surprised, but answered easily enough. โRattlesnake. Named for the stripes, I like to say. Why? Why that question first?โ
โBecause,โ I said, closing my eyes. โAll I wanted in the beginning was to know why my father had to die. Why my clan is dying, even if they donโt realize it. And I wanted to know the name of the cat who caused it.โ
I opened my eyes again and saw real pain in the Pris โ Rattlesnakeโs eyes. โI see,โ he said careful.
โHow did you start the war?โ I asked, voice quiet again.
โI loved,โ was his next cryptic and short answer. I glared at him and he finally added. โMy clan was dying and we needed territory. I had a plan that would not cause casualties on either side and benefit the whole. My plan went wrong, cats died, and all four clans saw us as either allies or enemies. The ones, like myself and many of my older warriors, had powers.โ He waved a tail at the frost line.
โSometimes accidents happened and slowly, what little ground I had gained in uniting us all crumbled away. Our two factions broke into war. I madeโฆmistakes. We all did. Those who were on the losing side were killed,โ once again he nodded at the frost line, โand the ones who couldnโt be killed were kept prisoner or made to go into hiding. And thus, here I am.โ
He shrugged his shoulders, as if that was just how the world worked. My pelt prickled. What he was sayingโฆ while some parts were so deeply summarize I could hardly tell what point in time he was talking about, other parts showed a clarity to my clanmates whispers.
โAnd the sickness?โ I asked, in almost a whisper.
He paused in any movement heโd been making, even breathing. He frowned, then slowly, he took a breath.
โThe sickness will never happen again. The secrets to it will be buried with me.โ
โBut you canโt be buried,โ I snapped. This cat was old, I could tell, from his ears to his eyes to his memory itself. If there was one thing I now believed about my clanmateโs stories, it was that this cat truly was immortal.
Rattlesnake stood, the pebbles shifting under him. โVery true,โ he agreed. โBut donโt you think this island is a suitable living grave?โ
He turned, as if to walk away, and I leaned forward without realizing, ready to chase after him over the frozen line. I needed answers.
But something caught me under my throat. For one horrifying second, I thought Rattlesnake was attacking me, that I had crossed the line and broken whatever safety I had.
But then my brain caught up and I saw that what was under my chin was, in fact, his tail. He wasnโt looking around or at me, but I cast a look down and noticed my paws were still on the line.
But his tail wasnโt. Its tip flicked just over it, on my side. I caught my breath, both afraid and confused.
โAfter the guards are gone, are you really a prisoner?โ muttered Rattlesnake, still not looking at me. โThe answer, Kindred, is yes. You are a prisoner after the castle crumbles and the bars fall away, because as long as there are bars inside your head, the prisoner may walk beneath the sun, yet still see the world through a cage.โ
He dropped his tail away and snapped around, demeanor changing. โAnyway, it was nice meeting you. But I have to say that it is best you go now. And that you do not return. The frost line may not be broken by a Normal without consequence. I really wouldnโt like to have you keep me company in here, just because you couldnโt leave.โ He paused.
The best I could do was splutter. I hadnโt understood whatever that mantra was about โcastlesโ and โcagesโ, but I got enough of it to understand that he was a prisoner here of his own free will.
โWh-why doesnโt the frost work?โ
He tilted his head. โIt does. Just as more time passes, it loses more power. Countless seasons of its weakness,โ he nodded at the sun overhead. โWill do that even to frost created by powers. At this point, its functions are wearing thin at keeping me in and you out, but if one or the other of us fully crossed the border it would still cause a lot of pain.โ
He flicked his tail. โNow. Leave, Kindred. I canโt answer any more questions. I donโt know as much about the different stories as other.โ
I took a step back, by hind-paws hitting the water. I hadnโt given up. But I think, now, it wasnโt for a need to know about someone I never even met. It wasnโt for my father. It was for me, and a desire to know the Prisoner of the Islandโs story.
โWho can I ask?โ My eyes were narrowed, sensing a trick or a test.
It seemed my suspicions were true, as Rattlesnake smirked as he stepped back into the bushes.
โTry finding my family! Or possibly ThunderClan. Talk to Greenfern, or Dream, or Kite. Answers are out there, Kindred. Puzzles are hard, but they are never impossible. Even though you might have to remake a few missing pieces yourself.โ
He winked, and then stepped out of my view. Part of me wanted to cross that line of frost. To get all my answers from this immortal tom.
But something stopped me. I canโt believe one side or the other. I canโt trust the words of the winners or the losers. Neither the voice of the Prisoner or the whispers of my clanmates will always speak true.
Iโll take the answers that make the most sense. That rings the truest. Then Iโll start telling my story and those who want to collect my words can. Thatโs just how my stories always went.
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Prompt 3: Sand
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: The end.)
แดแดแดsแด
แดส
Fight Song
--
For a long time, ever since the creation on the Paranormal world series, Fight Song, by Rachel Platten, has been a theme and inspiration for Will C. Morgen, Marick, and Oliva. Iโve listened to the lyrics over and over and each word has shaped the characters and worlds. I thought it fitting that I name this story after it, as much of this would have been very different had the song not inspired me to do a comic of a story that was playing inside my head.
--
A single word can make a heart open. The name, Will, is not one of them.
Will C. Morgen dragged herself out of the sea with as must venom as she could muster for the salty water. Sand caked her fur and she looked very annoyed. No way was she licking that off. Sandy tongue and salty tongue were two tastes she didnโt want to experience today.
โYouโre crazy,โ said a voice. Will lifted her head from the sandy beach and made eye contact with a white she-cat with black spots. Wowโฆ Okay, she was pretty. Her pelt, for starters, looked just like the snow that was covering the cliffs behind her. But shot through with large patches of black that made her stand out.
Will shook her head. Her ears were full of saltwater and now was not the time to start thinking about how pretty this she-catโs coat was when her own looked like it might have been a nest for sand crabs.
โIโve heard that statement before,โ Will muttered, trying to shake some of the sand off. Freezing water went with it and the pretty she-cat backed up, muzzle showing the expression of distaste that Will knew meant she didnโt like getting wet.
โYou do know that that water was frozen a couple of days ago, right?โ asked the she-cat, who seemed to be very set in the idea of telling Will just how many marbles she was missing.
โYep,โ said Will, still trying to get the sand out of her fur. โI heard that rumor.โ The cold was bothering her, of course. It was already causing her body to overheat as it compensated.
Will looked around, giving up on the sand for a second. This still looked like Seaside and this cat appeared to be the right ageโฆ
โHey, uh, wouldnโt happen to know where a paranormal would stay around here, would you? Iโm a little cold around the toes and getting out of this fool weather might be nice.โ
She looked at the she-cat out of the corner of her eye. Not like she could place the face of the particular one. That was probably going to weigh on her conscience later. After all, she was Will C. Morgen. Probably branded the worst cat in Seaside.
And she was currently covered in sand, freezing cold, and this she-cat didnโt recognize her face.
Not like a lot of them would. Five cats, in the total population, knew what she really looked like. The rest just knew the name.
She shook her fur again, but it stayed stubbornly sandy colored. Probably for the best, even though it was starting to itch. If any of those five cats saw her, sheโd probably get turned in. A sandy Will was harder to spot than a wet one, but decidedly gray one.
Plus, as it was, she was safe. Right? What had happened last time wouldnโt happen unless something caused Marick and Oliva to split off again. Getting warm shouldnโt be out of the question.
She looked hopefully at the pretty she-cat. The pretty she-cat looked doubtful about taking a sand covered stranger anywhere.
โYeah, yeah, I know a place. Other paranormals are looking for denmates. But you might want to clean up before you try and met any of them?โ
โWhat about you?โ Will countered. She might run out of luck if she ended up trying to get these mysterious โother paranormalsโ to take her in. Wouldnโt want to run into someone she knew.
The she-cat looked like she wanted to be very unhelpful, but just nodded. โYes, fine. But only for a couple of nights. To warm up from your crazy swim and to get un-sandy. Thatโs it.โ
She turned, walking back toward the cliff path. โWhy were you swimming anyway?โ
โI was hunting,โ Will answered easily. โWhy were you here?โ
The she-cat tilted her head at the clouds that were growing in the sky. โChecking to see if those are stirring up the waves.โ
She didnโt look back after that and Will nibbled at the shoulder as she walked, trying to get the annoying sand out.
โWhatโs your name?โ Will finally asked.
โSamantha Silverton,โ was the short reply. โYours?โ
Will thought for only a second. โAme Just.โ
Just Me.
It was always โjust meโ. Will, the sand, and the storm skies. Alone.
At least, thatโs what she told herself.
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Prompt 5: Storm
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Near the end, but before 'Fight Song'.)
แดแดแดsแด
แดส
Our Last Storm
Storms are common along the coast of Seaside. Winter is the worst, where the tunnels below the town are almost always flooded and the cats should stay in-doors so they wonโt end up looking like drowned rats.
So, perhaps it was a little odd to see a tom and a she-cat taking careful steps through the mud around the woods in the opposite direction of the town. The tomโs fur was on end and he kept casting glances back in the direction of the town. Every couple of steps caused the she-cat to stumble and the tom would skip a pace or two forward to try and brace her weight against him.
She looked back at him only once and the tom couldnโt help shivering. Any passer-by would have thought it was because of the breeze. That the icy rain that was dripping into his fur was causing the chill. But it wasnโt. If you looked closer, you could see that the she-catโs eyes were glowing a disturbing green. Each shuddering step of hers was because something inside her was fighting. Purple would slip back into her irises every now and again and the tom would relax a little. But the change of color never lasted as long as he would have liked and the shuddering steps would begin again.
The rain was filtered a little as they finally entered the trees and the she-catโs progress slowed.
โโฆWill?โ asked the tom, his ears back with concern. โWill, why wonโt you tell me whatโs wrong?โ
Her, Willโs, body trembled and her claws dug into the wet grass and leaf-litter. She seemed incapable of speech or even looking at her mate. Green, purple, green.
โWhatโs wrong?โ he asked again. Heโd followed her out here becauseโฆbecause something told him that she needed to get away from the town. That she felt she was a danger. But he didnโt want to let her run away on her own. Not like this.
โM-marick,โ she muttered. โO-o-oliva.โ
The tom stiffened and looked around at the rain drenched forest. Was his mateโs alter egos here?
But that didnโt seem to be what she was trying to say. โTheyโฆthey left town,โ said the tom, looking back at Will.
She nodded, like she had already known.
โThatโs the problem,โ her voice was barely audible as her fur spiked up, sticking together thanks to the rain. โT-the distance isโฆhurting.โ
Her eyes faded to green again and the tomโs fur stood on end. Marick and Oliva were part of Will, though after this long they had started to grow alongside her, making their own choices. But that didnโt mean that they were their own cats. They were still Will C. Morgen, even if they currently went under different names.
โWhatโs happening?โ asked the tom, worry hissing through his teeth. What was this doing to Will?
The storm around them started to pick up and Will seemed to be moving against the wind. She didnโt seem to know what was happening any more than he did.
โP-per โ,โ she started. But her voice changed, hissing out words without her bidding.
"Hanc potestatem tibi transfero quasi gentis mei sitis. Hoc donum et anathema tibi transfero ut onus meum conmunices. Laborem et dolorem tuum accipio ut meum accipias. Quid alicui accidet omni et mea morte potestas mea eristis"
The tom blinked his eyes, ears laid back as the words struck something in his head.
โNoโฆโ he whispered. โNo, donโt Will. That wonโt help. Nothing like that can help.โ His eyes were wide. Those words, without the proper ritualโฆ what would they do? What sort of side effects could they have?
His claws dug into the wet earth. Leaving a spell only half finished could cause so many wrong things to happen. But it was too late.
โThe words,โ he said with horror. Who had the words been directed at? Who had Will been focusing on? What sort of effect could half of the paranormal ritual have on them?
+++
The storm raged against the building of Seaside. The son of the leader tossed around in his nest, fur on end as another crack of the thunder echoed through the building.
He was completely unaware of what effect this night would have on his life.
+++
"Hanc potestatem tibi transfero quasi gentis mei sitis. Hoc donum et anathema tibi transfero ut onus meum conmunices. Laborem et dolorem tuum accipio ut meum accipias. Quid alicui accidet omni et mea morte potestas mea eristis"
The tom pressed himself against Will as she spoke the words again. Faint lines and scratches covered the earth, though the rain was causing them to muddle. It was the tomโs best attempt at fixing something already broken.
Will seemed to be unable to wake and was muttering the words more as some sort of sleep-chanting than anything she was aware of. The tom got to his paws every now and again to redraw the lines. It was either that, or risk unknow consequences. Stopping his mate mid-sentence might cause worse harm.
Cats have died because of this ritual before. Thatโs why only those who trained with Rattlesnake know it. That makes, what? Three cats other than Will and the tom that know the full thing? Dream, Rattlesnake himself, and one other cat he had never metโฆ
The tom ran his tail over his mateโs back, biting his lip as he tried to think how he could get Will out of this. She was causing a storm far worse than the natural one around them. Back in town, or who knew where, cats would wake with new powers. And he couldnโt think of any way of stopping it that wouldnโt make things worse.
One cat out there was probably already worse than dead. The one that she had first directed her chant to.
โMarick, Oliva,โ he muttered into the storm. โWhere are you?โ If they could rejoin with Will, would that fix things?
"Hanc potestatem tibi transfero quasi gentis mei sitis. Hoc donum et anathema tibi transfero ut onus meum conmunices. Labo โ Labor โ,โ her voice stuttered and the tomโs fur stood on end.
No. This wouldnโt happen again. His own voice was added to the mix, even though he knew that what he was doing would only cause pain. Maybe not as bad as what would happen if the chant failed, but still, it was a fate that he couldnโt wish on the cat in Willโs focus.
"Laborem et dolorem tuum accipio ut meum accipias. Quid alicui accidet omni et mea morte potestas mea eristis"
He finished and finally her words faded, though the tom believed this was more because her voice had grown too hoarse to continue. The rain pattered down, washing away the last of the markings and the tom hunched his shoulders. If โ if only there had been something he could have done. But he knew the rules of these things and there had been nothing. A cat couldnโt break the ritual, could not edit it, or change it in any way. Otherwise, they faced the consequences.
+++
Back in Seaside, a tom woke up with no memory of who he was. His head was empty, apart from three things.
He was called Monny, the name โMarickโ was important, and that this storm would be the worst one in Seaside history. That this storm had changed everything.
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Prompt 22: Coral
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Middle/end.)
Born to War
Coral was born during the Feline War. She was almost grown when Toxic Valley was fought. Though she wasnโt a warrior, she was still at the battle and it was all she could do not to be sick as she watched the carnage. Huddled in the bushes a good three tree-lengths away from the last pair of fighting cats, she watched as the leader of the last group of Paranormal was pulled from the sky.
She had to close her eyes.
Not all the Paranormals were killed in the last battle, that she knew. A she-cat, tail between her legs, ran almost directly over her as she escaped. Coral flinched back, golden amber eyes wide as she saw the series of old scars running over her throat. Those were from an older battle, but new wounds also covered her pelt. Their eyes met, but the she-cat didnโt slow. She knew that everything was lost.
Coral turned back to watch, fur flat against her side. Her ears were back, monitoring the she-catโs progress to make sure that she wasnโt going to change her mind. It was nearly over. Her side was winning, as she had expected. This was the Paranormalโs last stand, after all. But she couldnโt help thinking that war was the worst thing in existence. Nothing could justify what she was seeing.
โStars have mercy on us,โ she whispered, closing her eyes again. She was too young to fight, but not so young that she didnโt want to save her family. Her father had already died in this war, as had so many other fathers. She didnโt want any more death.
As the last, dying light left the sky, Coral closed her eyes again. Beautiful. The sunset was beautiful, but it still showed every single body on the red, red grass.
Sometimes other cats would wonder why she was called Coral. She had amber eyes and a pale cream pelt. Nothing very coral-like about her, apart from the fact that she had been born by the sea. But she was sure it had more to do with her origin than her pelt color. Coral was something beautiful made up of the dead bodies of small sea creatures. Wasnโt that fitting for a cat born into war.
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Prompt 29: Breeze
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Near the end.)
Claireโs Breeze of Change
A chilly breeze played through Greenfernโs fur, playing with it like it had in old times, when she had hunted on WindClan territory. This wasnโt such a bad stretch of land, but she wasnโt prepared to meet Rattlesnakeโs gaze. She didnโt want to answer his latest question.
โWhat do you think?โ he repeated.
Greenfern shrugged. โGood place to start a war.โ
The tom flinched, looking back over the cliff again as if he was honestly thinking of jumping.
The breeze shifted, pulling Adderfangโs scent to the she-catโs nose again. โRather bad taste, that comment,โ he said, coming up from behind her. โItโs the โnormalsโ that are chasing us anyway, if they honestly want a war, letโs give it to them.โ
This time, both Rattlesnake and Greenfern flinched. The cats that wanted a war were her old family. Adderfang had all of his family fighting alongside him, they were all โparanormalโ. But not Greenfern. WindClan was split in half. Some were Gifted and the rest now view them as different. As dangerous and a threat.
She looked back out at the sea. So, this was the โsundrown-placeโ. Rattlesnakeโs sea. Their new home, at least for now.
โIf we can help it, it wonโt turn into a war,โ whispered the tabby tom. โI owe you that much.โ
โI should say you do,โ muttered Greenfern. โYou and your โfamilyโ are to blame for all of this. You should at least guaranty our safety.โ
Rattlesnake nodded his head a couple of times before he started to make his way along the edge of the cliff again. The breeze blew his scent back to the scattering of cats that were around me. Honeyfeather, Dappledleaves, Morningstar, Jaycall, a scattering of Rattlesnakeโs cats, like Cardinalsong, also hovering in the back of the group, like they werenโt quite sure what they were going to do or if we would let them talk with us.
It was hard to think that so much had changed since we had left the clans and that so much would change before too long.
Like the war that we would be facing in the future. The breeze of change was sweeping through all our lives. We would have exactly two years of peace. By then, many of our names would have changed and we would all have to face the reality that we werenโt even safe in the old twoleg-place nestled by the sea.
Seasideโฆ. a simple name. The breeze blew through again and cats that werenโt Paranormal entered the town. Some were wary, others curious. And more Paranormals came as well, though not all of them entered the town.
One morning, a breeze brought in a skinny Normal she-cat, her eyes downcast, and Rattlesnake looked up in surprise. Heโd actually just been about to leave the town for a few days, unaware that when he got back a moon later, the little town that had grown here would be a warzone.
โHello?โ he said. โCan I help you?โ
Abernathy Fang, who some still called Adderfang, looked up from a fish that he had been eating. Both toms where sitting on the edge of an old fountain that made up the city center. Abernathy was the only one who was eating.
โOh, uh, Iโm Claire,โ said the skinny she-cat. Her eyes darted between the tabby tom and the ex-ThunderClan warrior. โIโm looking forโฆRattlesnake?โ
Abernathy dropped half of his fish and pushed it in her direction. โHere.โ He waved a tail in the direction of Rattlesnake and said, โAnd thatโs him over there.โ
The breeze shifted, letting the scent of the she-cat drift to Abernathy and Rattlesnakeโs nose. Both of them could tell she had some sort of sickness, but only Rattlesnake could pin-point that it had something to do with the blood.
โHow can I help you?โ he asked, wondering if there was anything he could do to help her.
โIโm hoping you can help me find my brother. I heard that you can create small lights?โ
He words were very direct and Rattlesnake found himself blinking in surprise. โWhy, yes, I can. But what use would that ability be in finding your brother.โ
It wasnโt really his mostโฆadvertised power. He wondered if she had heard it from one of his adopted kitsโฆ
โHeโs lost in the tunnels. Iโve been looking for him, but I think heโs in the deep ones. I canโt navigate those without being able to see.โ
Rattlesnake also got the sense that she might be afraid of the dark, even if ever so slightly.
He stood, leaving Abernathy to look at the untouched offering that he had given to Claire. โAlright. I can do my best. I take it you have a tunnel entrance in mind?โ
Claire nodded and turned, thin legs moving to a sprint. Rattlesnake easily matched her pace until the entrance to the tunnels under Seaside came into view. They were rough, sea-swept things, but a cat could get lost in the deeper ones. Upon entering, he let small lights appear around him. These were mostly good for entertaining small kits, but they did offer a warm glow. They traveled deeper and the breeze followed with them, letting a crisp scent of salt and waves follow their steps.
Rattlesnake looked back at Claire only once, then he said in a quiet voice, โYou and I both know that you didnโt bring me down here for your brother. What do you want?โ
The she-cat was silent for a long time. Then she said, โThereโs a war coming.โ
โNot if I can help it,โ responded the shape-shifter. โAnd that doesnโt answer the question. What do you want?โ
โI want to fight,โ she whispered.
Rattlesnake paused, turning is head around to look at her. The she-catโs head was down looking at her paws.
โAh,โ said the tabby tom. โAnd why would you want to do that?โ
The she-cat couldnโt dig her claws into the stone, but she wanted to. โThe Normals killed my brother. He was one of Dreamโs. He never did anything wrong, but he was justโฆ just in the wrong place.โ
Rattlesnake didnโt seem surprised to hear that she actually had a brother or that his mate had been somewhere in this tale. Instead, he flicked his ear and said, โRevenge. How ironic. If thatโs what you were planning on asking me, then the answer is no. I neither want a fight nor do I want to drag a Normal kit into it.โ
Claireโs fur stood on end, but she didnโt look up. โYeah. Whatever. I thought youโd say that, but I just thought Iโd let you know where my loyalty lay. You will see this kit,โ she spat the word. โAgain. Just know Iโm not with them. Iโm not with the Normals.โ
โDuly noted,โ said Rattlesnake dryly. If that was how this was going to goโฆ
โIt was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Claire. But I think that it is time that you left. You have a life to live and I doubt it is here.โ
The lights around him went out, as if blown by the still chilly breeze. But the breeze had brought Claire in and Rattlesnake would have no idea how much that breeze of change would rely on her in the future. She would not go down in history. The she-cat would not be remembered on that future field of memorial flowers. But she would be the one who would shape history. Claire Breeze would be the reason the war ended, and possibly the reason that it ended like it didโฆ
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Prompt 31: Undertow
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Middle.)
The Crashing Waves
โHow come weโve never fought in the sea?โ asked Claire. Her tail twitched as she looked the cliffโs edge. Below, waves crashed against the base of the cliff, sending another batch of water into the tunnel system. That was one of the reasons the small patrol of cats where now looking down at the beach. The encampment of Normals had also been forced to move thanks to the rising tide. At least it looked that way.
Abernathy shrugged and joined her in looking down at the crashing waves. โI heard something about an undertow running down there. We had a battle on the beach once, but the Normals make sure we donโt have that much of an advantage. Carter from Group Three has that odd power and all. They camp on the cliffs so we canโt usually choose that ground to fight on, just like they canโt surprise us in the tunnels.โ
Claire flicked her tail at the waves again. โWhat about now? We donโt know for sure that there is an undertow. And that would be to our advantage anyway. Most of you are old enough to survive getting pulled out to sea. Normals, not so much.โ
She was speaking from experance, of course. She wouldnโt be able to survive the waves, much less any existing undertow.
Abernathy shrugged. โI donโt make the rules.โ He looked over at three other cats in their patrol. โAnyone know where the Normals are currently camping out?โ
Two shook their heads, one even looked a little bored, and Abernathy scowled. The third hesitated, then said, โI think I heard that they were camped further up the cliffs, over that way.โ She flicked her tail to indicate a direction further down the cost. Abernathy looked in that direction, biting his lip. He knew the layout pretty well, so was confident that he knew where the camp was. It was pretty well defended, if he was thinking of the right place. If you were coming by land.
However, if they really could come in using the sea, that would greatly help in possibly having a sneak attack.
โWe can suggest it to Mocking Jay, see what she thinks.โ He turned, padding back in the direction of the forest.
+++
When Claire and Abernathy made it back to their forest camp they were greeted by Clarisa Fern from Group Two.
โYouโve been transferred,โ the scarred she-cat said, right off the bat.
Abernathy Fang blinked. โUm, okay. What?โ
โMocking Jay left on her ownโฆpersonal mission. You and any other warriors have been transferred to Platoon Group Two. Acting Captain Morning Glory, as you know, is who you need to report to.โ
Claire stepped out from behind Abernathy and noticed that Fernโs eyes seemed to hold a touch of surprise when she noticed that the she-cat was there. โAlright,โ Claire said. โWe hear you. Weโve been added to the ranks of Group Two and that means there are now only three Platoon Groups left.โ
Abernathy flinched, but it was what we had all been thinking. Our army was shrinking. Slowly, but it was shrinking.
Fern seemed to look at Abernathy with an expression Claire didnโt understand. It wasnโt worry, so much as she seemedโฆ heartbroken. โโฆYes. That is basically it.โ
Abernathy blinked, looking away from Fern. โNot now,โ he muttered, seeming to be speaking about something that hadnโt been said verbally.
โWell,โ said Claire, trying to move this conversation along. โI guess that means we need to speak with Morning Glory. We sort of came up with another battle plan.โ
Fern looked at Claire for another couple of seconds, then nodded. โAlright. Sheโs over in the clearing, talking to Honey.โ
Abernathy nodded as well, before he brushed past her. Claire followed, leaving the other three cats in their group to Clerisa.
+++
Abernathy padded along the edge of the cliff. They had had to leave Claire behind at camp, but Clarisa and Honey was following him as he headed for the cliffโs edge. A few other older Paranormals had come along as well, so there was a sizable number of fighters. Another group was going to head along the top of the cliffs and act as a distraction, even though Abernathyโs patrol was the main attacking force. They carefully lined up near the cliffs, looking down. This was the only way down to the water and the cats here were among the few who would survive both the drop and the possible undertow created by the tide.
Clarisa was technically leading this venture, even though Abernathy was of the same rank that she was. He waited for her order and looked off down the cliffโs edge. As the order was given, the tom stepped off the edge of the cliff. It was a long drop and he could feel the strain on his body as he hit the water. It felt like heโd hit the ground, not the water. Honey let out an audible squeal of pain. That wasnโt too much of a surprise, as she was a little younger than Abernathy, at least as a Paranormal.
He could feel the tide pulling at him and he was sure that Claireโs rumor about an undertow was probably correct. It didnโt worry him too much, as at this age, he could probably hold his breath for a very long time.
He drifted, following Clarisa and Honey, who looked like she was favoring one leg as she swam. Abernathy kept his head low as he swam, watching the edge of the cliff. Two cats didnโt judge the timing of a wave and the Paranormal tom flinched a little as they were battered against the side of the cliff. A few seconds later, theyโd managed to make it back to the main patrol, though they both looked like they had broken a rib or two. Paranormals healed quickly, so Abernathy was confident that nothing that happened in this ocean would cause permanent harm. That was, of course, if more damage wasnโt dealt. Which it would be, as they would soon be facing a much larger army than their own.
He felt a swift tug near his paddling feet and started to put a little more force into his movements. The patrol where being tugged away from the cliffs, pulled out to sea, just as Claire had predicted. Clarisa hissed in annoyance as she was pulled underwater for a couple of seconds, only to reappear several foxโs lengths away and to the left.
Honey whimpered a little and tried to move faster in the direction of the Normal camp, which was just barely in view half-way up one of the larger cliffs. It was nestled in a dip, small boulders guarding it from the wind, but also offering a good position for look-outs.
โDonโt panic,โ Abernathy hissed at her as he was tugged further away. โFighting it will only weaken you, and you have to remember that even though you are stronger than a Normal, you can still drown.โ
He still continued to paddle his feet, but didnโt try to aim for the cliff. Instead, he moved as if to follow the cost. This seemed to make more progress than outright fighting the hidden undercurrent was.
Clarisa was already almost four treelengths behind and to his right, still getting dragged further out. The rest of the patrol was either just as far out or fighting like Honey was. Abernathy sighed, but there wasnโt anything that he could do. He was pulled under for a couple of seconds as the undertow caught at him again, but he didnโt hiss like Clarisa had. Instead, he just held his breath and continued the same movement he had been making before, following the cost instead of trying to fight it. When his head broke the water again, his paws didnโt reach so much resistance and he could see that the Paranormals back on shore had already made their move. A mass of cats where fighting around the boulders, lithe shapes launching themselves at one enough. The shape of Morning Glory was pronounced as she launched herself upward, butterfly wings beating at the air as she tried to shake off a Normals hold.
He felt his paws scrap against something and he realized that some of the tumbled boulders rested in this slight carved out area of the cliff. The waves pulled his back, away from the rock again, and he used that time to look back at the rest of his patrol. Honey was almost behind him, and a few of the others had also started to get close. Clarisa was the furthest away, but she was no longer the distant dot she had been. Abernathyโs claws hooked into the trailing edge of one of the sea plants that was using the rock to grow as another pounding wave throe him in that direction and he shook out his fur as he pulled himself up. Honey pulled herself up after him after a couple of seconds and Abernathy grinned as he dove back into the water on the other side of the rock.
After the patrol escaped the undertow, the rest was easy. The battle was long and hard, but it was a battle that they won. There was very few of those battles left.
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Prompt 12: Sunshine
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: End.)
Sunshine with a Chance of Clouds
I am the sun. The embodiment of Willโs good and positive emotions.
But if thatโs true, why do I feel like clawing this tomโs ears off?
โYou are telling me that I canโt even get a good meal thanks to those winter storms? So, you are saying Iโm going to starve, just because snow storms have scared the prey into their burrows?โ
โSorry, Miss. Canโt do anything about that if you arenโt a resident of Seaside. Council Leverโs rules. Talk to him if you donโt like it.โ
I hissed through my teeth. The thought that I was acting more like Oliva than myself crossed my mind and I tried to calm down. But this tom was basically telling me that I could die this Winter, and it wasnโt any of his business.
โI may not be a registered member of this town, but that doesnโt mean I donโt eat.โ I tried to act calmer. This cat probably was as tired as I was and the cold from the oncoming snow storm probably was effecting both of their moods.
Maybe Iโd learned to actually stand on my own feet this time around? That was possible. This was theโฆwhat? Third time that Will had let me and Oliva wander around. There had been the first time, where sheโd triggered the power by accident. The second when Percival had had to tract both of them down or risk Will breaking from the strain. Theyโd ended up splitting again not long after that.
โI might just take it up with Lever if this is how you treat me,โ I added, when the only response I got from the tom was a shrug.
My fur fluffed up against the first few flakes of snow, releasing heat to compensate for the swiftly dropping temperatures. The main square was already covered in a light layer of frost. The main post in the center, which, in yesteryears might have been a fountain, was empty. Council Member Lever was in charge of the distribution of food, and in a pinch, important news. Pretty soon, I had a feeling, heโd be announcing that Will C. Morgen was back and the usual neighborhood watch would start up.
But until then, I needed food. I turned, not bothering with this further. The tom would just be a waste of my time. Why should I want his half-frozen fish anyway?
โIโve been hanging around gloomy Oliva too much,โ I muttered under my breath. I flexed the muscles in my left front leg. A light tinting of green had started to discolor the spot just below my elbow. What was far more likely was that was the cause of my unusually foul temper. My brain started to wander as I wondered what effect it must be having on Oliva then. The other she-cat must be next to impossible to live with now.
I chuckled as I started to turn corners, walking in the direction of the Council of Twelve building. It wasnโt very likely that Lever would be there at this time of evening, but I could at least talk to some other Member.
What exactly made up a personality anyway? Experiences, I assumed. I didnโt share any of Willโs memories, even the ones that were considered โcheerfulโ. I could sort of tell where Oliva and Will currently where, but not what they were thinking or doing. Apart from that, and not having any past, I acted and felt like a normal cat. Then there was the usually fixed personality. Ever the optimist, confident in my own actions, yet heavily reliant on Oliva and WillโฆThere wasnโt really any bases for my sunny disposition.
The hole that was the usual entrance into the old twoleg building was half covered in old rugs and moss to keep out the chill. A cat could still get through it, of course, and i grinned. I had a funny feeling I knew who had set up that.
I squeezed through, looking around at the surrounding doors and crumbling walls. Most normals could easily navigate the Council building, but being a paranormal helped. Prehensile tails and all.
I padded along the edge of the building, making my way closer to the center. There was probably only a couple of Members here, at this time, so I guessed that Iโd just hang around Tylorโs office. Perhaps I could trade information for winter suppliesโฆ
That was a thought. I hadnโt considered that. It would help, wouldnโt it? Two problems taken care of at once.
My good humor slowly returning I bounded up a tumble of an old wall and around another corner. Tylor Shieldsโ personal den was at the end of the hall.
I scented the air. Tylor was in there, but I didnโt want to be rude. So, I paused outside the door. It was half open, but the leader of Seaside was focused on something inside. I curled up just outside of Tylorโs line of sight and began to think again. About sun vs. rain.
What made me sad? Certainly not the same things that upset Oliva or Will. Will hated to not be in control, but I didnโt like to lead. I didnโt think that I could handle the pressure. Oliva also loved to lead, but that was because she thought she was always right. I constantly worried that I was going to make a mistake.
So, had I actually developed a personality outside of what I had beenโฆ โbornโ with? Could I actually be angry now? It was an interesting idea. I wasnโt entirely sure if I liked that or not. Half of me was afraid that this would hurt Will or someone else in the long run. But it was also nice to see that I could actually be someone outside of Will C. Morgen.
I shifted a little as I heard Tylor get up. I smiled a little as he turned the corner, only to flinch back a little when he noticed me.
โSorry for the interruption,โ I said. I stood up, already aware that I would be taller than the tom. โBut I have some information for you.โ
Maybe I can actually start to help, without having to rely on Will and Olivaโฆ
โI know how to cure the Poison.โ
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Prompt 28: Driftwood
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Near the end.)
Driftwood Playing Piece
Close your eyes. Do you feel the wind against your fur?
Close your eyes. Can you hear the gulls high above?
Close your eyes. Do you feel the sand beneath your paws?
What if I told you that ever drift of the fur on your back, every twitch of your ear and movement of your paws was seen? That nothing you do or feel ever goes unnoticed?
Some find this a comfort, others find it disturbing. Let me give you an offer. I want to show you the Chessmaster. I want to show you the one who sees these things. He was the gulls above your head, the mouse you missed during your last hunt, the deer that saw you wandering in the woods with your mate. He knows your whole past, thanks to that chessboard.
You seem afraid. Donโt you want to know what part you play in the game? Are you a pawn or a castle, a king or a queen? What is your piece made of? Polished coral, ebony, or driftwood. Stone or sand.
Follow me, this way. Around this tree now, under this bush. Of course, it is hard to get there, do you think it was going to be easy to see this cat and his game? Now. Here we are. Down this tunnel.
You look scared again, close your eyes if you like. The tunnels are so dark it will make no difference. Thatโs where we are going. Deep into the heart of Seaside, down below the ground and away from the sun.
Keep close, let my fur brush against yours so I can guide you around the corners. Duck your head here. The tunnel is going to start sloping down, donโt slip. Donโt flinch, you nearly hit me!
Itโs just water. The tunnels lead to the sea and some of it gets in when the tides are high. But donโt worry, no need to shiver, the water canโt get you here. Weโre still in the higher tunnels.
Turn, youโll be able to open your eyes soon. There is an old twoleg nest just above us and part of it has caved in the tunnels.
Here, you can open them now. Itโs a little dim, but you can guide your own paws at least. Watch the beam, itโs starting to rot. Duck here and wiggle around this rock. Yes, I know Iโm thinner than you, but youโll make it.
Shhh. Donโt gasp so loudly, keep your voice low. Donโt wake the Chessmaster. They say that he is a rattlesnake bigger than the tunnels. Yes, I know it would be hard for him to fit in this small room, donโt look at me like that. I said, โthey sayโ didnโt I? Just pay attention to the chessboard. It is beautiful, isnโt it? The white spaces never seem to grow dull and the black never cloud. Each piece is different than the last and they move each time I end up here, but never while Iโm watching. Look for yours. Go on. Iโm sure that you will find it interesting.
You look shocked. You found it already? That was fast. Well, what is it? Can I see?
Oh, very nice. It looks just like you. And thereโs your name, right there, carved in the bottom. You probably canโt read it, but my father showed me what the scratches mean.
Are you surprised that it is a driftwood bishop? There is only one other bishop, after all. I guess the Chessmaster thinks you are important. What does driftwood mean? Oh, that. If I remember right, it means that you are one of Dreamโs cats. Is that right? There arenโt too many of those, you are very lucky. See, most of them are either ebony or stone. Driftwood donโt get taken off the board very fast either, since they donโt usually get involved in paranormal spats.
No? Youโve never heard of Dream? Thatโs a little odd. Driftwoodโฆdriftwood. Are you sure? Gray tom, only has one eye, my fatherโs old mate? Heโs very nice, when he comes to visit. Though dadโs a little awkward around him, I will admit. I hope they patch things up soon.
Still not ringing any bells? Well, maybe you will be one of his in the future, though I donโt see how the Chessmaster would know. He canโt see the future, even though cats seem to think he can. Or maybe you are just important enough to end up on the board and the Chessmaster couldnโt figure out what other material to use.
Youโre looking at me oddly again. Whatโs that face for? Your eyes are narrowed, have I said something wrong?
Whoโs my father? I thought you knew, I thoughts that why you were willing to come down with me. Heโs the Chessmaster of course. My name is Will C. Morgen.
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Prompt 8: Message in a Bottle
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Waaaay near the end.)
A Lost King
Marick and Oliva were getting along for once. This wasnโt something that was too phenomenal, if you considered that Marick used to follow Oliva around like a puppy would her master, but as this point in time, it was of note. Oliva had been running Seaside for over four moons now and Marick was her sole challenger. But now, today, was a truce. They walked along the beach, in silence, not talking about their individual responsibilities or that they would be challengers again tomorrow. They just walked, brown paws sinking a little into the sand at each step and tails streaming out behind them. The only sign that they held any distance between each other, in their minds, was the fact that they were several inches away from each other and not once did their fur ever touch.
It might have gone on like this, had a mason jar not wash up onto shore.
Marick looked at it with disgust. โTwoleg rubbish. Again! Theyโve been missing for years, yet their stuff never gets out of the ocean.โ
Oliva flicked an ear, possibly amused at Marickโs outburst. She looked at the jar, nose twitching. Her soft, deep voice finally said, โJust kick it back into the waves. I canโt even remember what Will used to call those.โ
Marickโs fur bristled, though whether it was because of the suggestion that she push the jar back into the water or because of the mention of Will, it wasnโt clear. But she did finally say, โFine,โ as she took a step forward to push the jar with her paw.
As she got closer, she noticed something was trapped in the jar. It looked a little like a stone. She stuck her nose closer. The jar didnโt have a lid, so the fact that a stone had gotten trapped in it wasnโt very surprising, but the paranormal she-cat was still confused. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? The stone was gray, not black. The stones that usually washed up on the beach were black and polished by the waves. Gray ones, like this at least, only came from deeper inland. You actually would have to go all the way back to the lake, where the old clans used to be, to get this type of stone.
โWhat is it?โ asked Oliva, annoyed that it was taking so long to take care of a jar.
Marick tipped the jar with one paw, letting the stone roll out. As soon as the glass no longer warped the appearance of it, she gasped, backing up.
โWhat is it?โ asked Oliva again, this time pushing around Marick to see for herself.
โItโs a chess piece,โ breathed Marick. She hadnโt seen them since the stormy night, when Will, herself, and Oliva had entered the tunnels.
Oliva looked down at the stone piece, whole and unworn by the sea, even though it had probably been there ever since the tunnels had flooded that night so many years ago.
โItโs Rattlesnake,โ she said, her ears laid back. โThatโฆthat canโt be. Heโs died.โ
โThey said that about Will,โ said Marick, quietly. โRemember? But we knew better. What if Rattlesnake didnโt die? What ifโฆwe were just being played again.โ
Oliva struck out at the piece, sending it skittering through the sand. โI wonโt be a playing piece again! I fought for that chessboard! I fought for Seaside! I will not give it up to someโฆsome paranormal want-to-be god and I will not accept it.โ
Marick, always the calmer of the two, just watched as Oliva ranted. She was thinking quietly, eyes half closed.
โWe canโt change it. If his chess piece is still around, so his he. Still in the Kingโs position as well. Do you think he belongs to Willโs chessboard, his old one, or yours?โ
โWho cares!โ growled Oliva, pacing. A new chessboard was made each Chessmaster, the old ones unable to be destroyed, but forever frozen in time as soon as the old Chessmaster revoked their claim to the board.
โStone as well. You know itโs him. Remember? Yours and mine are ebony for Will, Clarisaโs is stone for Rattlesnake, and Monnyโs is coral and ebony mix for Percival and Will. Whichever paranormal claims you as their own, you get that material. It canโt be anyone other than him, because stone stopped turning up as a material ever since he was supposed to have died!โ
โYou donโt need to convince me,โ hissed Oliva. She already believed it. She looked down at the playing piece, not knowing what to do next.
โToss it back,โ said Marick after a second. โIf heโs around, watching like he used to, send him our message. He isnโt welcome in this town anymore. Itโs ours!โ
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Prompt 17: Jellyfish
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Middle.)
A Red Song
The Paranormal Army started out with six Platoon Groups. Four out of those six included a mixed blood leader and all of them had at least one regular warrior who was. Carter Song was not the leader of Platoon Three, but he was pretty close once.
Carter Song, born Cardinal of Rattlesnakeโs Group, oh so long ago, was by far the oddest looking of them. There was Morning Glory with her butterfly wings and Mocking Jay with her thunderous voice and icy paws, but Carter was very sure that he by far more noticeable than even the winged Paranormal.
In basic appearance, Carter was a white tom, with ears that were tufted with downy fur the consistency of fluff. His eyes were pink, almost red, and when Rattlesnake had first met him, the tabby tom had explained to the kitten that he was โalbinoโ. Which Carter never really got the meaning of, but he guessed explained why his eyes were pink.
The similarities to normal cat ended there. From there, he had a set of gills on his neck and he moved with a grace that almost appeared like floating. Where some cats needed two Paranormal to make a mixed blood Paranormal, Carter had just needed to have actually been born with powers. Though the symptoms of mixed blood didnโt appear as quickly as they had for Tawny, they had still appeared. In fact, it took five years for Carter to realize that he could now breath under water, and that if he wasnโt careful, he could electrically shock someone. He needed to be in the water to do it, so that did mean it took a little longer, but stillโฆ
Heโd yet to โsnapโ as he heard some mixed blood Paranormals did. Carter wasnโt sure what that meant, but according to some second-paw stories, Mocking Jay had in the Battle of Twolegplace. What she had done wasnโt explained to him. Maybe they thought it would give him ideas.
In appearances, Carter looked like an apprentice. One that would soon be a warrior, but still an apprentice. He was, if he hadnโt lost count, almost ninety-six season old. Or twenty-four yearsโฆ
That would also mean that the Feline War had been going on for almost two years now. In those two years, he never thought that he would have to lead a battle. The leader of Group Six was a regular Paranormal, but in the last battle a series of traps had been sprung on both him and his battle patrol. The one that had finally left him incapacitated was when the Normals had triggered about four good-sized boulders to fall on both him and his second in command.
So, now, here Carter was. They were going to try attacking on the beach this time, since he was keeping his powers in mind. His electrical one, breathing in the water, andโฆthe other one. The one that made him โoddโ.
Leaves stuck her head almost directly in his face as he turned the next corner and he flinched. โWell?โ he asked quietly. โWhere are they?โ
The warrior stuck her head out further and Carter tried not to look at the set of scars that ran over her neck. Much like the scar on the back of Clarisa Fern of Group Two, it was a wound that should have killed a Normal cat. It nearly had killed Leaves and Carter didnโt really want to remember that particular battle.
โThey arenโt expecting us, if thatโs what youโre asking,โ she said, flicking her notched ear. โWe should catch them completely by surprise.โ
Good, Carter thought. He blinked a couple of times, then motioned with his tail for his patrol to start to move onto the beach. The soft shadowing of the cats moved under the fading light, ready for the last order, just to โattackโ. Leaves followed them and the only one left was Carter. He took a few deep breaths, hoping that this wasnโt the battle that he โsnappedโ. Then he darted out into the open, racing for the lapping, calm waves that came into the beach. The Normals were camped not too far away and a cry went out as their look-out spotted the Paranormals.
โGo!โ Carter called, still running just behind the stationed Paranormals. This wasnโt a full attack. Most of the warriors were injured from the last attack. This was more of a raiding party. But the albino warrior wanted to contribute something to all of this and as the Normals started to filter into view, his paws hit the water.
He dived into the waves, not caring if the current pulled him out to sea. He wasnโt worried. A sound, unheard by any ears but his own, issued from his mouth. Maybe it wasnโt to unlike a birdโs song, maybe that was why he was named after a red bird instead of because he had red eyes. Maybe he was named for this power.
He didnโt resurface until the first of them appeared. They were clear, hard to see, but slight lines of white outlined them for the Paranormal tom. He grinned a little. Maybe his mixed blood had meant to make him more like the jellyfish he could call. He was resistant to their sting, could more clearly see them than should be possible, and they seemed to listen to what he said. Heโd been able to do this as long as he could remember, when heโd been living near the ocean, though heโd never found a use for it until now.
A set of teeth met his scruff, trying to pull his head out of the water. They dug in a lot harder than what was normal for a friend. Hard enough that Carter nearly screamed in pain. A Normal had ended up sneaking up behind him!
He bucked, trying to shake them off, but after so long, they knew what sort of moves worked against a Paranormal. Carter flinched, his body convulsing. Not from lack of air, but as an electric shocks ran through and out his body. It wasnโt enough to kill a Normal, but it would give them something to think about.
The teeth let him go and Carter pushed off from the bottom of the sea floor, his paws skidding a little on the sand. The Normal she-cat had backed away, shaking her head in pain. Another trill of song came from Carterโs mouth and the she-cat shrieked as another set of shocks went through her, this time from a jellyfish instead of Carter himself.
The Paranormal turned, bounding through the shallows before he could see what happened to her. He honestly didnโt want to.
Leaves and a Paraormal tom had pushed a set of Normals into the water. Carter jumped on the back of one, sending a series of small shocks down the tomโs spine. He flinched, feet giving way under him. The she-cat that heโd been fighting alongside of hissed, but was hesitant to engage Carter. One of the cats on Carterโs patrol lunged at her, pushing her deep enough into the waves so that that Carter could let out another trill of song while she was distracted.
The battle moved much like this. Carter dealt most damage to the Normals near the edge of the sea, but they soon learned that going near him or the sea was the same as dying. The battle was at a stand-still. The Paranormalโs safe near the water and the Normals finding an invisible line on the beach that they were safe behind. Both side didnโt cross that line, knowing that the other group would have the advantage if they crossed.
โBack to camp,โ growled Carter after another couple of seconds. Another chunk of Leavesโ ear was missing and a bad clawmark ran over another she-catโs eye. This wasnโt the best outcome for the raid, but it also wasnโt a loss.
The Paranormals walked along in the shallows, keeping a careful eye on the Normal counterparts. Their gaze also followed us, their teeth showing and ears back. One threw insults at us. But they let us go.
Once we were at a safe distance, Leaves turned to me and dipped her head, impressed. โI can see that that odd power of yours actually has some use, Cardinal. The Normals wonโt be so quick to trust the water now.โ
Carter wasnโt too sure if that was a good thing or notโฆ
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Prompt 27: Shore
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Right after Red Song)
The Invisible Line
The white tom killed my sister. I stood on the other side of the invisible wall, paws already having dug hollows in the sand.
Daniel kept his tail up, blocking my path to him. If I had ever doubted that the Paranormals were evil, I didnโt now. The white tom had left my sister in the shallow water, body floating there, after he had usedโฆsome strange power to kill her. He scared me. I wasnโt planning on running past Daniel, but that didnโt mean I didnโt shout a choked insult at the tom from where I stood. Safe. On the shore. We had the upper paw here, where the Paranormals couldnโt rely on whatever hid just under the water. But my sister hadnโt known that she was walking into a trap.
โHe has mixed blood,โ Daniel hissed to me, still keeping an eye on one of the Paranormal she-cats. A scratch on his cheek showed that he hadnโt escaped a scuffle with her uninjured.
โThe white tom withโฆred eyes?โ I asked, keeping my shoulder down.
โYeah.โ
My own eyes narrowed. Paranormals with mixed blood were priority one on Commander Heatherโs list. They were the most dangerous in a battle and they were also the most unstable.
My paws dug into the ground again and I padded along the invisible line. The shore was the only safe place in this standstill. The Paranormals had started to move, walking in the shallows. They brushed past the body of Russel, Melody, and my sister without a second look and I glared at them. I couldnโt cross the line, however. That would break our safety. Daniel would jump to my aid, and from there, everything would be lost. I couldnโt leave the shore.
Then they were gone and the others crossed that line. Carefully at first, then once they were satisfied that the white tom was not returning to command the things hiding under the water, they went and collected the dead.
None of the Paranormals had died. That was usual for most battles, at least this far into the war. Both my mother and older brother had died in this Stars forsaken war. Now my sister as well. Daniel came up beside me, pressing his thin body against mine. I looked off into the distance, feeling like a drifting leave on that sea that was always within my view.
I didnโt have a safe shore to stand on any more than my sister had. I was trapped, fighting against a tide, but always with that shore in sight.
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Prompt 4: Waves
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Right after Red Song)
Counting
One. Thatโs the number of gulls that are overhead. It calls out a lonely cry as it flies deeper inland.
Two. Cats walk along the beach, their paws just in the waves as they walk on the edge of the shore.
Three. Thatโs how many paces are between them. A world of distance where there used to be none.
Four. Four times, thatโs how many times the she-cat has sighed on this walk. The tom was counting.
Five. milliseconds before he snaps, โCan you stop that?โ
Six. Heartbeats, six of them, pass as the next wave rolls in and crashes around their paws.
Seven. Seven clouds skitter across the sky, two, small, white ones are huddle together at the horizon line, as if scared of their five larger, grey brothers.
Eight. Raindrops fall on the tomโs nose and he looks up, expecting it to start raining any second now. Another drop splashes into his eyes, making itโฆ
Nine. the gray and brown she-cat looks over, her eyes dull. She doesnโt know what to say. Things just arenโt working out. The tom presses closer to her and they stop walking. Both let the rain fall around them as they sit there, the waves pulling sad out from around their paws. Like it wants to take them out to sea.
Ten. The tom feels that many heartbeats, his own and the she-catโs, before he says the eleven simple words that will throw him to those waves.
Eleven. โWill, this isnโt working. Can we go back to being friends?โ
The she-cat looks out at the stormy waves, feeling like sheโs already been dragged out there.
Twelve. As the waves pull out again, stones slip out from beneath her claws. Her claws that dig into the ground. She feels every stone return to the sea and counts each one, getting to twelve before she closes both eyes.
Thirteen. โIf we can go back to that, Percival, we will. But I need some time to think, alright? Please?โ
Percival looks over at her, silently asking how much.
โDays. Give me thirteen days.โ
1, 2, 3โฆ6, 7, 8โฆ11, 12, 13.
Itโs only then that they notice theyโve been counting every heartbeat, every thought, every wave. Countingโฆ
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Prompt 19: Gulls
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Before Born of War)
A Symbol of Loss
โClaire Breezeborn, why is a Normal in my army?โ Rattlesnake had returned to Seaside near the end of a battle, diving from the sky in the shape of a large eagle only to land on the back of a white, normal she-cat in his tabby cat form. The battle had been furious and Rattlesnakeโs abilities had shocked the Normals, who hadnโt realized the shape-shifter still stood by the Paranormals. When it had ended and the three remaining Platoons of Paranormals had returned to their makeshift camp in the woods, Rattlesnake had turned on Claire, fur bristling.
โI told you that kits had no place here. Didnโt you know I didnโt want you involved?โ
The skinny she-cat didnโt even blink as the long-tailed tom ranted at her. โI said Iโd be on this side, sir. Iโve worked hard for the position that I have.โ
โBut you shouldnโt be here!โ he hissed. โYou should be out there. Out there having a family โ โ
โAnd dying for it in this battle?โ she asked, eyebrows raising. โOn the other side, no less? I donโt think I want that, sir.โ
โStop calling me that.โ
Around them, cats moved as if walking through brambles. They didnโt want to interrupt, so they just pretended that it wasnโt happening.
Rattlesnakeโs eye wandered around the cats, all who bore scars. He didnโt see some faces, some he knew were died. โThis war wasnโt supposed to happen,โ he whispered.
โBut it did,โ said Claire. โIt needed too.โ
Rattlesnake looked at her as if she was mad. โNo war needs to happen. Especially this one. I โ I think that I need to talk to the leader of the Normals. Peace talks or something. There has to be a way to end this.โ
Claireโs eyes narrowed. โSays the tom who left us. There is only one way to end this, and you know it.โ
โNo,โ said Rattlesnake. โI donโt. And I know even less when you were suddenly included in that โwe.โโ
Just then, Abernathy stepped through the make-shift camp entrance. His eyes fell on Rattlesnake and he bounded forward, interrupting.
โMocking Jay went back to the clans to look for you. Where have you been?โ
Rattlesnake seemed a little surprised. โShe did?โ His face fell. He would have to find her. It was even more dangerous back there than it was here. But first he had to deal with what was happening between the Normals and Paranormals.
โIโm leaving. Iโll try and be back by sunhigh.โ
His form melted away, leaving in his place a large sea-gull. It took wing a few seconds later, leaving Claire and Abernathy to look after him. Claireโs eyes were narrowed.
--
The sea gull flew through the dawn sky, wings beating against the air. That was the last any Paranormal of Seaside saw of Rattlesnake. Most thought that he had died, if they were unaware of him immortality. Others just thought he was just as good as died. Either way, he never returned to the Paranormals and the Normals claimed they never saw him anywhere near their camp.
To Claire, and her descendants, the sea gulls became a symbol of a coward and abandonment. To the Paranormals, one of loss. Rattlesnake might have changed things, if only a little, they said, but the next battle would be the last and most deadly. Afterwards, everyone started saying that somehow, Rattlesnake was dead, that he had died in the war before Toxic Valley. It was easier saying that than the truthโฆ
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Prompt 1: Starfish
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Right after Red Song)
No More
Five kits were born to a normal in the early years of the war. This was in the time when they all believed that it would not last for very much longer and that peace could still be reached. That somehow, the battles would stop.
The first kit was named for the color of the sea. Her eyes were a deep green in her young adult years and her claws swift.
She died on her second battle.
The second was a healer, having no desire to fight. He was named for the storm clouds on the horizon, named for more power than he ever wanted. He helped many cats, healed them only to watch them head out to war again.
After Toxic Valley, he disappeared. Everyone thought him dead.
The third ran away, never to be seen again. She was named for the bright light of sun that peeked through the clouds on that day of her birth. Her mother was always proud of her abilities and would often praise her.
Until the day she turned tail and ran from an albino cat with red eyesโฆ
The fourth considered herself nothing important. Her fur was as white as Seafoam, which she was named for. Her skills were below the usual, which simply meant that she could not fight with her claws as well as her brain.
She was the one who killed the albino paranormal, but she was killed in the prosses.
The last, and fifth, was named for a sea creature with five arms. Seastarโฆ A name akin to those of the clans of old, which her mother believed would keep her safe. Her mother saw her as the cat that brought all her siblings together, as a whole. But in the end, she was the only one to stand by her mother in her last moments.
The valley was covered with the blood of Paranormal and Normal alike and it was impossible, in this light, to tell the difference between the two. Heather, leader of the Normal, was taking her last breath. A sandy colored she-cat sat over her, her shoulders hunched and head down. Blood dripped from one ear and a slash across her flank, but compared to her motherโs injury it was minimal damage.
โIโฆsorry,โ were the only words that fell from Heatherโs lips. She was having difficulty speaking.
โN-no,โ stuttered Seastar. โDonโt talk. Mother, donโt talk.โ
Her eyes darted around, making sure that none of the bodies near her moved. Cats picked their way around in the distance, all of them Normal, but other than them, it was just her and Heather. But Paranormals were hard to kill and it was a constant worry that one of them wasnโt as dead as they appeared.
Heatherโs tail moved a little to touch her daughterโs flank. โN-no more,โ she said. โI- I want Thunderhead to be the l-last.โ
She was talking about Seastarโs brother. The one she had seen disappear just before the Paranormal fell on the waiting warriors. She hadnโt the heart to tell her mother that he had run away just like his sister. It was better that she thought he was gone. Dead.
โNo, shhh. Please donโt speak. We arenโt done yet. There are still more out there. Clarisa Fern, Leaves, all of them. Some escaped. It isnโt over.โ
Heatherโs eyes, though starting to glaze over, narrowed. โNo. This is the la-last child I will lose. It ends, Seastar. No more.โ
Seastar pressed her paw to her motherโs throat. The bleeding continued, despite her useless efforts.
She wasnโt sure what to say. Was more life really worth losing to hunt down so few survivors? Rattlesnake was gone and on one else that they knew of could continue the sickness. All of the Mixed Blood ones were deadโฆ
Maybe it was time to end this Stars forsaken war.
โNo more,โ breathed out Heather, as if agreeing with her thoughts. Eyes glazed over further, last breath escaping her lips and body growing still.
Seastar took her paw away, looking around.
Let it end with her mother. When only one leg of a starfish remained, was it still possible for it to live? Seastar seemed to remember something about it just growing a new body. Could that happen here? Could they grow here, in this blood-soaked town, like the Paranormals used to?
โNo moreโฆโ
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Prompt 2: Seafoam
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: After No More)
White Like Seafoam
White like the pre-dawn light, red like blood
White like the albinoโs fur, red like blood
White like Seafoam, red like blood
Thatโs what Thunderhead remembered as he walked along, stumbling pawsteps, head low, almost running into trees as he went.
His sister, body coaled around his, jaws parted in a snarl, claws in his neck. The red-eyed cat, fur tinged pink from the blood, with his muzzle berried in her chest. Milky, white eyes looking at nothing.
Thunderhead shook himself, ricocheting off a bush, fur getting tangled up in it. Suddenly, he froze, hearing the sound of paws from behind him. He turned, fur on end. โSeastar?โ he asked hesitantly and a she-cat, but not his sister, walked out from behind a tree.
โNo,โ she said coldly. โMy name is Claire.โ
Thunderheadโs ears tilted back, but he was hesitant. He was trying to place the name. โWho?โ he asked.
Claire stepped forward and Thunderhead noticed her claws were unsheathed. โLet me help you remember. Iโm the one Normal who could actually see that you, all of you other Normals, were dead wrong to start a war.โ The she-cat lunged forward and the tom stubbled backward.
He wasnโt a fighter, he was no warrior, but Stars he tried to beโฆ
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Prompt 25: Vacation
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Before Symbol of Loss)
When You Leave
Rattlesnake had left the town of Seaside for a sort of vacation. He needed to get away from the responsibilities and he needed to see his family again. It had been almost a year since heโd seen his adopted kits and his mate. H-he was fairly sure they had understood, but he still needed to see them for himself.
So, at dawn, he changed form, becoming an eagle and took off, aiming for the clans. That was the last place he had seen them, and it was likely that they had at least left some sort of clue on where they had gone.
His wings beat against the air, fighting against a wind that was trying to blow him off course. He didnโt know how long it would take for him to return to Seaside, but he was fairly sure everything wouldnโt fall apart before he got back. The normals were getting along okay with the paranormals and the risk seemed to have defused a little. Surely, he could spend a moon with his family before he needed to check up with them again.
It was several hours later that he landed on a tree branch of one of the trees just above ThunderClan camp. It was deserted now, and no cat went here. It was unlikely that Dream, Newsong, and the others were in the old camp, but there was a good likelihood that they had left a message for him there.
He changed into his cat form, landing with a thud on the hard-packed earth of the camp floor. Someone coughed and Rattlesnake flicked an ear. โYessss?โ he questioned, lengthening the โsโ sound.
โThat you, Rattlesnake?โ asked a voice and the striped tom turned to look at a small form huddled under a tree. He blinked a little, surprised to see one of his oldest warriors from his group. โSaltfeather!โ he said, a pleased note in his voice as he recognized the tom.
The blue-grey cat with white streaks padded out of the shadows, their slime, streamlined body moving as gracefully as ever, even though they were getting on in age. โLong time no see,โ he said in his high voice, which held varying notes of joy. Rattlesnake blinked an agreement. โI would have expected you to be with Dreadmoon and Dream. Does that mean they are still in the area?โ
At the mention of Rattlesnakeโs mate and one of the senior warriors, Saltfeather frowned. โYes and no. This isnโt really a good place for paranormals, as you know,โ there was no accusation in their voice, but Rattlesnake still flinched. โBut some of them are hanging around. We figured we owe them to at least look out for the lake. Weโre pretty good at keeping the badgers and foxes out, at least. Not like we ever tell them that itโs usโฆโ He trailed off, shrugging.
โSo, is that why youโre here?โ asked Rattlesnake, meaning the ThunderClan camp. Saltfeather nodded.
โWhere can I go to run into Dream?โ Rattlesnake asked after a pregnant pause. It was the question heโd been dying to ask. Saltfeather seemed to think about this, his nose wrinkling a little as he searched his memories. โTry over by WindClan. Heโs probably doing a patrol with Treetail and Inkeyes.โ
Rattlesnake nodded, about to take off, but paused, claws digging into the earth. A year. It had been a year since heโd been with his family.
He rushed at Saltfeather, pressing his nose into his fur, breathing in his scent that he had missed so much. โI โ Iโm sorry itโs been so long. I promise you that I never wanted to leave.โ
Saltfeather looked a little surprised, but laid their tail on Rattlesnakeโs flank. โI know. We missed you too. Dream the most, of course.โ
Rattlesnake didnโt want to ask. He dreaded the answer. โW-whoโฆhas anyone passed?โ Not all of the cats in his group were paranormal, and even those that were could die. Saltfeather was already at the age of being an elder, having refused the Gift. Rattlesnake had been worried that he would return and that most of his family would be dead.
Saltfeatherโs eyes grew sad. โShorttail died of whitecough just after you left. Newsong couldnโt do anything to help and you know that tom never wanted to be paranormal. Dreammoon accepted the Gift, as you know, but they arenโt finding it easy and Icemask is getting old, we donโt think thereโs much chance they will live past this year...โ He paused and Rattlesnake tensed.
โTora and Tawnsky died about four moons ago.โ His words were quiet, like if they werenโt heard they wouldnโt hurt so much.
Rattlesnake looked down at his paws, though he wasnโt seeing them. The beautiful winged she-cat and the cat he had cursedโฆ His muscles hurt, his head hurt.
โฆHe should have never left. Or he should have visited sooner.
Saltfeatherโs pelt brushed against him, as if they were trying to offer comfort by contact only.
Rattlesnake wanted to say that it helped, but it didnโt.
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Prompt 20: Diving
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: Before Fight Song)
Ice Diving
Tom and Will walked along the cold sand. Frost had formed over it in the night and the bay was even coated with a thin sheet of ice. To say the least, it was cold.
Steam played off both Paranormal bodies and every now and again, one would shake out the melted snow from their fur.
โHonestly, do we really have to do this?โ asked Tom of the Moor, his breath coming out in a cloud.
โYes, we kind of do,โ said Will, blinking against the early dawn light. โIf we donโt, I really will end up being killed. For real. Itโs dive off a cliff willingly, or find out the next fish I eat is laced with poison. You saw everyone today. Iโm not Seasideโs choice of a saint.โ
โThe water could freeze you, the dive could kill you, if there are rocks below the cliff you could be battered until you canโt move,โ Tom listed, and continued to list more โifโ like they were somehow going to convince the she-cat that she shouldnโt jump off the cliff.
โThatโs why were down here, today,โ she said, cutting him off. โTo make sure a lot of those โcouldsโ and โifsโ wonโt happen. I have to jump, itโs the only way. Plus, itโs not like you all canโt take care of yourself.โ
โBut diving off a cliff, just so all those cats will think you died? Isnโt that a little much?โ Tom insisted.
โYou and Monny seem to be the only ones who actually think I have even a speck of something worth saving in me. You will not be wanting in cats who would gladly toss me off a cliff with their own paws right now.โ
She walked on, a little bit ahead of him. โSo, I jump. Make that dive. Itโs the only way that Iโll end up living and Seaside will end up moving on.โ
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Prompt ?: ?
(Rough chronological listing within the stories here: ?)
?
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