Out Beyond Ideas of Wrongdoing
Aug 23, 2016 13:41:10 GMT -5
mintedstar/fur, Mᴏᴏɴ - -, and 1 more like this
Post by » ѕнαdσω ⚔️ on Aug 23, 2016 13:41:10 GMT -5
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and right doing there is a field.
and right doing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
― Rumi
C H A R A C T E R S
Klez – male; large muscular dark brown tabby with long thick fur.
Akal – male; tall long-legged black and white with a white chest, underbelly, and white raindrop on his forehead.
Zelta – female; orange, black, and white calico with thin, edgy features.
Jericho – female; albino with thin wispy fur and an open, honest face.
Vezter – male; dark stone-grey with white dots in the corners of his eyes.
Itzala – “”
Striker – “”
. . .
“What do we do now?”
That is the real question, isn’t it? The question that in any circumstance is used to inquiry about fate. It is the question you ask when you have done everything you can possibly do to achieve your goal. Whether you reached it is another matter to be had.
The question about the future of an entire race who just gave up everything to uphold their ideals.
It was a question that was almost too much to comprehend, for I was a part of that race, a dwindling species…a soon to be forgotten way of life.
And now, I have just committed the ultimate taboo of the cursed.
Too late to change…too much to reconsider.
“We meet the rest of them,” I said calmly, taking in a deep breath of the chilly cold-sun air, the snowflakes on the breeze melting in the back of my throat.
My brother, Striker, sat with an exhausted expression upon his face, the snow swirling around his foggy black pelt. His fur color lightens up around his legs, where tabby stripes become visible. Below where his legs stand rooted, the snow has completely melted, and has turned into a small watery field around the both of us.
His exhaustion comes from the crime we just committed. He had suggested it many seasons ago, but I had resisted such betrayal of the ways of our kind. Yet, now I see it as a way to change, for our kind to rise up from the shadows and once again come into the light.
“Is it such a good idea, Itzala? You know they will retaliate…,” Striker cautions, his light green eyes emptied of the fire that once breathed within them, the heat now taken over by small chips of brown in his irises.
I met his gaze with my own, the fire within mine still existing, but with new purpose and new power, the sound of small waves lapping against my legs calming the true chaotic storm inside my heart.
“We must, for the sake of saving our kind and the valley cats we brought over the mountains with us.”
. . .
The meeting of the leading cursed was to be held on the peak of the Great Mountain. We needed to be isolated as much as possible from the normal cats in the valley below, for they could not know of our true numbers.
Though truly, I believed, it was more for their protection and our own moral code. Despite all of our beliefs, despite our very nature, a small number of us still tended to break our role in this world, and raze everything to oblivion.
Am I any better?
Upon climbing the last few tail-lengths to the large open area atop the mountain, the sound of raised voices echoed in the wind, churning my stomach and putting me on edge.
“What is black and white anymore, Jericho? What we need now is to focus on our own survival!”
“For what reason, Vezter? Our goal was to save the cats from the tribe; not leave them for dead in some forsaken valley!”
“The valley really isn’t that bad-”
“That bad? Are you joking, Zelta? How long has it been snowing now? Five moons? All the prey is either dead or dug so deep into the ground that digging them out is about pointless!”
“We should have just left them with the Tribe…”
A silence hangs in the air as I make my presence known, my eyes narrowed at the five cats in front of me, their mouths agape, their eyes heated with anger, aggression, frustration, hopelessness…what has my kind become?
“How dare you,” I began, addressing Vezter, a dark stone-grey tom with white dots in the corners of his crimson eyes, “disgrace the task with which we were given?”
His pupils widened, taking in my new look and the state of my brother, who stood next to me breathing heavily, still zapped of energy from our previous interaction. The climb had not been kind to him. He had almost collapsed numerous times.
“Itzala, why are Striker’s eyes empty?” Jericho asked hesitantly, her albino appearance almost blending into the ground, the sun above causing her fur to glisten like the snow. She sounded almost afraid, which I couldn’t blame. His eyes had been a fiery evergreen only yesterday.
“They did it! They committed the taboo!” A tom named Akal shouted, his black and white pelt bristling, his electric blue eyes glaring at me accusingly. He was always the first to get to the point.
The two other members of this meeting, the ever watchful Zelta with her unwavering golden eyes, and the silent Klez, whose facial expressions were his most popular form of communication, sat at the head of the group, not taking part in the vocal carnage.
Currently, Klez was frowning, his fiery orange eyes glowing hotly.
Striker hung back, nodding at me to take the lead on this one. This was the plan after all, to give me a chance to speak my mind, and to have enough power to make my words become actions.
Will this work? If it doesn’t, they could execute both of us for what we have done.
I raised my eyes to Akal, my once bright yellow eyes now accompanied by a green hue, the flames of both colors dancing together harmoniously.
“Yes, Akal, Striker helped me become a hybrid. But I-”
“An artificial hybrid!” Akal accused, his blue eyes stinging the air around us. “You have abandoned the natural order by which the Mother decreed that we follow! We should kill you where you stand,” he growled.
Suddenly, Striker was in front of me, his muscles clenching, and his eyes as hard as the glaciers themselves.
“If you want to kill her, you will have to go through me first,” he said.
“Get out of the way, Striker. You are not welcome here anymore, you are no longer a cursed,” Vezter replied just as steadily, his crimson eyes swimming with regret.
Striker lowered his head on his shoulders, like a bull about to charge, but he didn’t show anger, nor did he intend to attack…he only expressed his controlled rage.
After a tense silence, I decided to break the ice.
“I just want to talk,” I spoke over Striker’s stance, raising my paw in the air in a sign of peace.
All eyes turned to Klez, whose massive form sat in the snow like a fixed boulder, his dark tabby pelt barely moving in the chilling wind. His flaming orange eyes roamed over Striker and I, taking into account the new colors of our eyes, our expressions, our words, and probably using his extensive knowledge in his head to pick and choose which answer would best soothe this situation, while also still following the core of who we were as cursed.
“Let her explain herself,” he decreed.
. . .
Hey everyone! This was just a little taste of some of the Clans of the Valley content I've been working on behind the scenes. For those of you who remember the CotV timeline, Itzala was one of the main figures during the time the cats fled from the tribe and entered the valley. She was crucial in the settling of the refugees and became the very first Valley Leader. This scene took place before she rose to power and before the events of the Blood Wars and thus before Jadestar's and Shadowface's time.
Consider this a "cursed" teaser and a teaser for an upcoming series of short stories covering Itzala's reign.
Consider this a "cursed" teaser and a teaser for an upcoming series of short stories covering Itzala's reign.
If you don't mind that is.
Don't stress yourself to much, Shadow.
