-тнe oɴeѕ leғт вeнιɴd- Chapter I up!

--PART ONE--

 

-- "We are all someone's monster."
-Leigh Bardugo

 

--PROLOGUE: THE BEGINNING--

 

-- In the beginning, there were six.


PineClan, StoneClan, NightClan, MarshClan, GrassClan, CreekClan.


The winter was long and harsh, stealing the prey from their territories and the warmth from their lungs, and every Clan felt it’s grasping clutches. Every Clan had the cruel winter chill take their most vulnerable from them, the cough seemingly unshakeable, the fever clutching, and without the herbs, dead under layers of frost, they died slowly, lungs filling with fluid, drowning without ever touching water.


GrassClan was the first to fall. Their territory of fields and camp with the least amount of barriers was too hard to defend, and half the Clan was dead before the rest even knew what was happening. The survivors fled to CreekClan, where they spent two nights before CreekClan suffered the same fate. The few alive joined the ranks of NightClan, and there they stay, barely keeping the rogues away, loosing a few more cats every day.


StoneClan had been hit the hardest by sickness, and in their small number they thought it best to join with MarshClan, thinking that their combined numbers would keep them safe. They were mistaken, and the rogues hit them hard, and out of the thirty-four cats, only six from StoneClan and four from MarshClan made it out alive. As they fled, they found the tattered remains of PineClan, who accepted them in without hesitation. PineClan knew the rogues were creeping steadily closer, and they needed all the reinforcements they could get.


And when the rogues attacked, they kept them back. Barely, but not without heavy casualties, but they stand strong and stubborn, ready to fight until no more life remains in their bodies.

In the end, there are two, and they are fighting a battle they are rapidly losing.

 

-- CHAPTER I: Now --

 

-- It only takes one cat, an apprentice, stumbling into camp wide-eyed and gasping about a rogue waiting to speak with Ebonystar to send the entire camp into panic. Dawnpaw collapses as soon as the news is delivered, chest heaving as she fights to get her breath back, and, around her, the camp explodes into activity, even in the early hours of the morning.


Someone all but shoves the kits back into the nursery and the still injured warriors are sent back to the medicine den and all cats available to fight line up, claws already out, teeth bared, ready to fight, to protect, for what feels like the hundredth time in only a few short moons.


And, in the middle of it, Mintflower stands, unsure of where to go. She can fight if needed; her claws as sharp as anyone’s, but perhaps the extra pair of paws in the medicine den would be of more use. But she can barely stand to be in the confined den, feels as if the small space steals the very breath from her lungs, and she does not want to spend any more time in it than need be.

Someone gently bumps into her side, and Mintflower meets the green eyes of Longnight. She can see the stiffness of her former clanmate’s muscles, can see the willingness to fight etched in her stance.


“Do you think this is it?” Longnight asks, stretching up to whisper the words directly in Mintflower’s ear. “The one that Ebonystar has been talking about for the last moon?”


The one that will wipe us out entirely?


Those are the unspoken words, tucked between the spaces of Longnight’s sentences, and Mintflower knows that the black she-cat isn’t the only one who’s wondering the same thing. When she stretches her next up, she can see Frogfoot and Egretfeather of MarshClan whispering urgently to each other, fur standing on end. She can see her own clanmates, their long-legged StoneClan builds putting them all nearly a head taller than their more compact PineClan hosts.


They’ve lost their home already, their territory, their camp, their lives stolen from them by ruthless rogue claws. It’s only a matter of time before they come back to wipe the clans out entirely.


“SILENCE!”


In a smooth movement, born of doing it for seasons, Ebonystar leaps up onto the tree branch to overlook the muttering, whispering, on-edge clan. The hum slowly fades into silence, and the leader looks down upon the clan cats, eyes narrowing in thought.


“Dawnpaw,” he says, finally, and the little apprentice looks up, eyes growing wide about being addressed by the leader.


“Yes?” She asks, hesitancy clear in her voice, but Ebonystar’s voice is kind.


“How many rogues did you see?”


“Just the one,” she says, shuffling her front paws. Mintflower tries to give the shy apprentice a reassuring smile, but Dawnpaw is looking down at her paws, now. “A she-cat. She was waiting by that tree where there are always squirrels, as if she knew someone would go hunting there this morning.”


“There could be more of them.” The words come from Littlebird, one of PineClan’s two remaining senior warriors. She shakes her head slowly. “Hiding, just waiting for us to come out to talk.”


“Or it could be just the one,” Longnight says from beside Mintflower. “Come to have a conversation, not start a fight.”


“Unlikely” someone snorts, but Mintflower can’t see who the word comes from.


Ebonystar is silent for a moment, before casting his gaze over the group. “Brightfire. Mintflower. What do you think? Have either of you heard anything from StarClan? Any warnings of strangers or attacks?”


“No, Ebonystar,” Brightfire says from his spot across the clearing. “I have heard nothing from StarClan. Icepaw has not, either.”

His apprentice shakes her head, and then everyone turns to Mintflower. She resists the urge to look down under their gazes, forcing herself to meet Ebonystar’s eyes.


“No. I have heard nothing, not even a whisper.”


She has heard nothing from StarClan in a moon, not since StoneClan was driven from their home, and the thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth. She had thought she would have heard from someone, either one of her ancestors or one of those whose lives were lost these past moons, but StarClan has been silent. It sends both a prickling of grief and unease through her fur. Unease, because it is uncharacteristic for the medicine cats to be ignored for so long, and grief, because StarClan’s ranks have grown substantially, and she longs to say goodbye to her friends, her family, but she never got a chance.


Ebonystar sits down, curling his tail over his paws. For a few heartbeats he is silent, lost in thought, the cats below him slowly growing restless. Finally, he blinks, and scans the crowd. “Hawkflight?” He asks his deputy, and the tom sits up straighter in response. “Take two warriors, and go investigate this rogue. Should you find any trace of more than one scent, you leave immedietly, understand? But should it just be the one…bring her back and we will find out what she wants.”


-


Everyone is unsettled. Mintflower can see it, even though they’re trying to hide it, even though they’re trying to act normal.

The group of StoneClan cats huddles in a corner, speaking in hushed voices.


“I am not dying for them,” Geodepelt says darkly, “They’re not our clan.”


“But they took us in,” Longnight argues, fur fluffing up ever so slightly. “They didn’t have to. They could have sent us on our way.”


Swallowflight sighs. She looks exhausted, as if she has aged seasons in only a few moons. “They took us in because they needed more warriors, and they knew that,” she says, but as Longnight opens her mouth, Swallowflight cuts her off. “I am not saying that we do not fight, but we also need to remember that they are not giving us shelter out of the kindness of their hearts.”


Slatepelt hesitates before speaking up. “I don’t want to watch any more of our clanmates die,” she says, and grief clouds her voice. “I already lost Elkleap. I watched him die, right in front of me.” She chokes on the words, barely able to get the name of her mate off her tongue.


“You’re not the only one who’s lost someone important,” Geodepelt snaps, fur bushing up in anger. “We watched out entire clan get slaughtered. You don’t get to play the pity card.”


“Geodepelt,” Swallowflight snaps, and the young tom stops talking, but anger is still alight in his eyes.


The elder warrior leans against Slatepelt, attempting to sooth the shaking, grief-stricken queen. “We have all lost someone,” she reminds the little group. “Our parents, our siblings, our friends, our clan. We all deal with that grief in different ways.” Swallowflight turns to Mintflower. “You’ve been silent this entire conversation. What is your opinion?”


“I don’t have one,” Mintflower admits, shrugging. “Yes, PineClan took us in when we were driven from our home. Yes, they did have motives for it other than kindness. But doesn’t the warrior code say that in times of trouble, the clans must stand together?”


Longnight nods furiously. “Exactly. To not fight alongside PineClan would go against the warrior code, the very thing we are trying to protect.”


Geodepelt shakes his head. “The warrior code also says that your loyalty should remain with your own clan. And the remains of my clan are right here in front of me.”


Silence falls over the little group, and Mintflower can feel the grief in the air, an almost tangible thing, sharp and barbed and, in this moment, digging a little deeper.


There are times where she can almost forget that their clan is gone, that her family, her friends, are dead, and that the survivors had to leave without even giving them a proper burial. But mostly, she remembers. She can’t help but remember, can’t help but see the bodies of those she loves, strewn out across what used to be StoneClan’s camp every time she closes her eyes.


Oh Goldsky, is that why you are not talking to me? Because we did not bury you in the proper way?


Mintflower closes her eyes, trying to choke the grief back. Now is not the time to let it consume her.

The silence is interrupted by the chattering of kits, and Milkkit and Pricklekit come charging up to Slatepelt, tripping over their own paws. They crowd around their foster mother, who purrs and stands up slowly, carefully herding them away, back towards the nursery. Mintflower watches them go, an ache deep in her chest.


StoneClan wasn’t the only clan that lost things. She can tell by the sudden duck of Geodepelt’s head that he has just remembered this, too. He stands up and leaves without a word, and Mintflower does not watch him go. Longnight stands up too, giving Mintflower a friendly flick with her tail and a dip of her head to Swallowflight before she heads off as well, in the direction of Geodepelt.


Dawnpaw appears, tucking herself against Swallowflight’s side, and her mentor gives her a rough lick.


“We fight for our own,” Swallowflight says as Mintflower stands up. Mintflower pauses, giving the warrior a curious glance. Swallowflight continues, her amber gaze serious. “But who is to say that these cats are not our own now, too?”


-


She is smaller than Mintflower expected.


The rogue sits at the foot of Ebonystar’s tree, chin lifted, hazel eyes unafraid, even though she is being watched by an entire clan of angry warriors. Hawkflight in particular is sitting close, claws unsheathed in a clear show of hostility.


Mintflower sits beside Brightfire and Icepaw. The medicine cat apprentice is clearly edgy, shifting constantly, while Brightfire sits calmly, the picture of the stoic medicine cat. If Mintflower’s outward appearance is half as composed as Brightfire’s, she would be surprised. Her entire body is a hurricane of emotions; grief and fear and pure, unfiltered rage. She wants to go over and hit the rogue, and keep hitting and clawing and biting, make her pay for everything she and her group has done.


The strength of the rage takes Mintflower’s breath away, but at the same time fills her stomach with the sour curdling of guilt. She is a medicine cat, and she took an oath to heal, not harm. She should not wish injury or even death on another cat. Especially not a cat that she has never seen before.


Ebonystar waits a moment before speaking, probably in hopes of making the rogue unsettled, but she shows no sign of it working; not a ruffle of her fur nor a twitch of her ear.


“An apprentice found you on our territory this morning,” Ebonystar finally says, and the rogue blinks lazily up at him. “What are your intentions?”


“It has come to our attention that you have cats trained in healing,” the rogue meows, her voice holding the faintest hints of an accented burr. “And I have come to bring one back to me.”


The uproar is immediate. Fury and disbelief and fear all clashing together as cats get to their paws. Beside Mintflower, Brightfire stiffens, tail starting to twitch as he shows his first signs of emotion, and Icepaw gives a tiny gasp that could also be called a sob. Mintflower feels as if someone has punched her in the gut and she reels backwards, stunned.


“SILENCE!” Ebonystar roars, and everyone quiets instantly. The leader looks down at the rogue, his gaze hard. “And what makes you think we will willingly give up a member of our clan.”


“Well,” the rogue drawls, drawing a paw across her ear, the very picture of ease. “I find it amusing that you all think I came alone.”


Everyone hears the threat in the sentence, spoken so casually. The rogue sits up and curls her tail over her paws, blinking slowly. “Our leader requires treatment, and she will get it. It’s if she gets it easily that is the question.”


Their leader. Mintflower digs her claws into the hard-packed dirt of the camp floor, closing her eyes. The memory comes unbidden. The gray and white she-cat, standing over a limp body, eye socket empty and bleeding, a triumphant snarl etched across her face…

Their leader. The one behind all their suffering, behind the death and the pain. She needs treatment, and the rogue has just implied that they know nothing of healing herbs. Swallowflight’s words echo in her ears. We fight for our own. She makes up her mind in only a fraction of a second.


Mintflower stands up. “I will go.”


There is a second of complete and utter silence. And then, noise.


“…Mintflower...” “…you can’t let her…” “NO, MINTFLOWER!”


It’s Longnight’s screech that rises over the cacophony, and Mintflower closes her eyes again, paws shaking. She sends a silent goodbye to her friend, because she knows that afterwards they will kill her for what she has decided to do.


The rogue laughs. “Lovely.” She stands and stretches, then passes through the crowd, the cats parting to let her through. She stands in front of Mintflower, tilting her head back to look her in the eyes.


“Shall we go, then?”


“I need my herbs,” Mintflower says, and she is impressed with how little her voice shakes. The rogue nods, once, and sits down. Icepaw flinches away, and Brightfire subtly tries to step in front of his apprentice.


As Mintflower walks toward the medicine den, she lets out a soft breath. She is fighting for her own. That’s what she reminds herself, over and over.


-


The entrance of the medicine den rustles, and Mintflower turns away from her small pile of herbs to see Brightfire. The PineClan medicine cat comes up beside her.


“I came to see if you required any assistance,” he says, then stops, taking in the herbs she’s lined up. The oleander stands out from the rest, as it would to any medicine cat. After all, every medicine cat is warned of the plant’s effects, is warned of the death that too large a dose will bring. It does not take a lot to kill a fully-grown cat, and Mintflower has more than enough in her small pile.


“May StarClan watch over you,” is all he says, and Mintflower nods, carefully wrapping up her bundle.


As soon as Mintflower exits the den, she is surrounded. Longnight speaks first, her voice thick with emotion.


“Mousebrain,” she hisses, even as she rubs along Mintflower’s side. Geodepelt and Dawnpaw and Slatepelt all murmur their goodbyes, and then Mintflower is in front of Swallowflight. The she-cat touches noses with Mintflower, before muttering in her ear,


“We protect our own. Always.”


She pulls away, and Mintflower dips her head.


Ebonystar steps up to the small group, and his gaze is unreadable as he meets Mintflower’s eyes.


“Thank you for doing this, Mintflower,” he says formally, “PineClan will remember your sacrifice.”


Mintflower can read between the words. He does not expect her to come out of this alive. She does not blame him. After all, she knows she will not come out alive. This will be the last time she sees her clanmates.


The rogue steps up behind Ebonystar, and everyone steps back. She doesn’t seem to notice, instead turning and looking over her shoulder. “Ready?”


Mintflower nods, thinking of the poison she is carrying, thinking of her plan, the one that will hopefully stop more lives from being lost.


“Ready.”

 

-- CHAPTER II: NOW --

 

-- WIP

--FANS--

 

-- ✲ριкαƒυєу✲

-- ᴛᴜᴇsᴅᴀʏ

 

--FAN ART--

 

-- If any of you lovelies decides to make fan art, it shall go here.

 

-- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS --

 

-- To the WFF: My first community, and the reason I started writing in the first place. 

--To Tues, who let me know that the WCRP existed.

--And to everyone who takes the time to read this 'fic and whatever else I write. I love you all. <3

 

-- CREDIT --

 

-- The art in the banner is by talented Wayne McLoughlin, which has been edited by me.

-- The layout is by Brownie, because I cannot code to save my life, and is used with her permission. 

-- Any fan art belongs to the artists, and has been posted here with their permission.