Choose Ivypool's Heart audiobook narrator (+Prologue for it)
Mar 18, 2024 7:38:42 GMT -5
*Faith*, 𝓣𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓵, and 6 more like this
Post by Leonard on Mar 18, 2024 7:38:42 GMT -5
You can vote here. Turns out this is what the Steve Corona video the other day was about. The audiobook narrators to choose from are: Tara Sands, Kirt Graves, Kirby Heyborne, Katie Anvil Rich, Steve Corona.
Also, the sample they're narrating is Ivypool's Heart prologue, so even if you don't care about audiobooks you may want to listen to it.
Transcript:
Prologue.
A stiff wind was blowing, making Whistlepaw's eyes water, and flattening her fur against her sides. She stood on a rocky ridge digging her claws hard into the scanty soil as she struggled to keep her balance from the dizzy height. She stared out across an endless stretch of water, so huge that she couldn't see the other side. Is this what Crowfeather calls the sun-drown-place? She asked herself. Remembering the stories the WindClan deputy told about his journey. So many seasons before then recognition swept over her.
This again, I've had this dream before. The surface of the water was continually shifting, glittering in the sunlight for a few heartbeats. Whistlepaw gazed out across it, drinking in its beauty. But when she looked down to where the cliff fell away beneath her paws, she saw sharp rocks poking out of the water with the waves churning around them, tossing spray high into the air. Struggling against panic, Whistlepaw dug her claws in even harder, imagining herself swept from her precarious paw hold, flailing helplessly in the air before being dashed against the rocks and overwhelmed by the battering waves. Then another sound, pierced Whiistlepaw's ears. The voices of kits crying plaintively as if they were begging for help.
Their cries were distorted, mingled with the noise of wind and water and echoing all along the ridge whistle paw felt her heart overwhelmed with pity. Where are they? She wondered. Gazing all around her, but seeing nothing except the cliff and the fearsome expanse of water. Before she could begin to search a crushing sensation swept over her. She felt as though she were being buried under a massive weight of earth.
Cut off forever from light and warmth. It was guilt as though she were responsible for the danger and terror of the kits. But it's not my fault. She wailed silently. I would never hurt them fighting against the sensation. Whistlepaw was still trying to work out where the kits cries were coming from. When a shadow fell over her, she looked up to see thick clouds surging across the sky so fast that the sunlight was cut off in heartbeats, thunder rumbled above her head and the wind buffeted her with fierce gusts. A torrent of rain fell from the sky, soaking whistle paws fur between one breath and the next.
Then she saw him, a brown tabby Tom desperately trying to keep his balance on a narrow ledge. Halfway up the cliff, he whipped his head around trying to follow the direction of the kit's cries and Whistlepaw realized that the suffocating sense of guilt was coming from him, but who is he? Suddenly the tabby Tom stopped searching and gazed at her directly a solemn purpose In his eyes.
"You must make it right". He told her his voice rising above the clamor of the storm. "Or they are lost forever". Lost forever? Whistlepaw wondered, make what right? I've never even seen these cats before. As he finished speaking loud, yell rose from somewhere in the distance. Come down, come down. Looking beyond the tabby Tom Whistlepaw spotted a group of about 10 cats standing on a stretch of pebbly ground.
Farther along the water's edge. It looked like the end of a trail that turned away from the water threw a gap in the cliff behind the cat. A range of hills led to the foot of a tall mountain. Looking up Whistlepaw could see a bald rocky top in the shape of a Fox's head. The storm is getting worse. Another of the group caterwauled. It's now or never, stay and we all die. Die. We can come back for them, a third cat screeched, but we have to go now.
Once again, Whistlepaw heard the plaintiff voices of the kits. They sounded closer now. She spotted a cave opening in the cliff face, only a tail length below where she was standing, where they trapped. A horrible feeling came over her. She remembered when leaf kit had recently gotten trapped in the nursery by a falling log. There was nothing worse than the cry of a scared trapped kit.
They're here, right here. I'm coming. She yelled, struggling to climb down her claws, seeking the tiniest cracks in the rock. But when she reached the cave Whistlepaw saw that it was empty, only stretching back a couple of tail lengths, and now the pitiful mulling seemed to come from somewhere even lower below a sheer slab of rock that offered no paw holds at all. The storm surged around her, the wind whipping at her pelt. The rain had soaked her to the skin and her waterlogged fur weighed on her and made it harder to move. She felt that at any moment a gust of wind might lift her away from the narrow crack where she clung and drive her down into the churning water.
Looking up whistle paw saw the group of cats leaving. They had emerged on top of the cliffs and were following a trail that led into the hills in the direction of the fox head mountain. The tabby tom who brought up the rear paused and looked back over his shoulder fixing Whistlepaw with a mournful gaze. The kits were still wailing and in spite of the danger whistle paw was astonished that the full grown cats were leaving them behind.
While Whistlepaw watched the departing cats, the clouds above them seemed to peel back in the stretch of clear sky. She saw a tangle of curving vines that appeared to enclose a clouds split by a claw of lightning. It didn't look real at all, much simpler than real clouds or vines. Whistlepaw was reminded of the old marks that two legs left here and there around the lake territories. Silence had fallen while whistle paw gazed at the strange symbol. But now the wailing of the kits broke out again.
This time seeming to come from just above her head. I'm coming. Whistlepaw yelled desperately scrambling upward, but before she could reach the spot where she thought she heard the cries, her paws lost their grip on the slick rock letting out a screech of terror Whistlepaw felt the wind snatch her into the air. She caught a glimpse of the spiky rocks as she fell and landed lightly on her paws.
On the moss covered ground of a forest. Her pelt was dry. The bluing of the storm, the kit's plaintiff cries had sunk into silence. Where am I now? In front of whistle paw stood a tree strangely hollowed out as if it had been burned from the inside. She stared at it for several moments, then padded softly toward it. The outer shell seemed to wrap around her and suddenly she was inside it, standing in thick darkness. When she had experienced the dream before, it had always ended here, but this time it continued.
Gradually the darkness lifted. Whistlepaw could feel cool, air moving around her and hear the gentle lapping of waves. As the light strengthened, she realized that she was standing on her own familiar lake shore with her back to the water and river clans territory stretching out in front of her. She waited all her senses alert for what the dream was trying to tell her. A sudden, yowl startled her and suddenly she saw Mistystar, the deceased RiverClan leader lunging toward her out of a clump of Fern.
Her jaws were wide with anguish. The debt must be paid or... Whistlepaw realized that Mistystar wasn't looking at her. Instead, her gaze was fixed at something over whistle paws shoulder, whirling around panic, spiking all along her spine. Whistlepaw saw the stream that bordered the river clan camp, but instead of the gentle ripple of water, the current was sluggish and a harsh tang caught at the back of Whistlepaw's throat. The stream was flowing with blood.
This again, I've had this dream before. The surface of the water was continually shifting, glittering in the sunlight for a few heartbeats. Whistlepaw gazed out across it, drinking in its beauty. But when she looked down to where the cliff fell away beneath her paws, she saw sharp rocks poking out of the water with the waves churning around them, tossing spray high into the air. Struggling against panic, Whistlepaw dug her claws in even harder, imagining herself swept from her precarious paw hold, flailing helplessly in the air before being dashed against the rocks and overwhelmed by the battering waves. Then another sound, pierced Whiistlepaw's ears. The voices of kits crying plaintively as if they were begging for help.
Their cries were distorted, mingled with the noise of wind and water and echoing all along the ridge whistle paw felt her heart overwhelmed with pity. Where are they? She wondered. Gazing all around her, but seeing nothing except the cliff and the fearsome expanse of water. Before she could begin to search a crushing sensation swept over her. She felt as though she were being buried under a massive weight of earth.
Cut off forever from light and warmth. It was guilt as though she were responsible for the danger and terror of the kits. But it's not my fault. She wailed silently. I would never hurt them fighting against the sensation. Whistlepaw was still trying to work out where the kits cries were coming from. When a shadow fell over her, she looked up to see thick clouds surging across the sky so fast that the sunlight was cut off in heartbeats, thunder rumbled above her head and the wind buffeted her with fierce gusts. A torrent of rain fell from the sky, soaking whistle paws fur between one breath and the next.
Then she saw him, a brown tabby Tom desperately trying to keep his balance on a narrow ledge. Halfway up the cliff, he whipped his head around trying to follow the direction of the kit's cries and Whistlepaw realized that the suffocating sense of guilt was coming from him, but who is he? Suddenly the tabby Tom stopped searching and gazed at her directly a solemn purpose In his eyes.
"You must make it right". He told her his voice rising above the clamor of the storm. "Or they are lost forever". Lost forever? Whistlepaw wondered, make what right? I've never even seen these cats before. As he finished speaking loud, yell rose from somewhere in the distance. Come down, come down. Looking beyond the tabby Tom Whistlepaw spotted a group of about 10 cats standing on a stretch of pebbly ground.
Farther along the water's edge. It looked like the end of a trail that turned away from the water threw a gap in the cliff behind the cat. A range of hills led to the foot of a tall mountain. Looking up Whistlepaw could see a bald rocky top in the shape of a Fox's head. The storm is getting worse. Another of the group caterwauled. It's now or never, stay and we all die. Die. We can come back for them, a third cat screeched, but we have to go now.
Once again, Whistlepaw heard the plaintiff voices of the kits. They sounded closer now. She spotted a cave opening in the cliff face, only a tail length below where she was standing, where they trapped. A horrible feeling came over her. She remembered when leaf kit had recently gotten trapped in the nursery by a falling log. There was nothing worse than the cry of a scared trapped kit.
They're here, right here. I'm coming. She yelled, struggling to climb down her claws, seeking the tiniest cracks in the rock. But when she reached the cave Whistlepaw saw that it was empty, only stretching back a couple of tail lengths, and now the pitiful mulling seemed to come from somewhere even lower below a sheer slab of rock that offered no paw holds at all. The storm surged around her, the wind whipping at her pelt. The rain had soaked her to the skin and her waterlogged fur weighed on her and made it harder to move. She felt that at any moment a gust of wind might lift her away from the narrow crack where she clung and drive her down into the churning water.
Looking up whistle paw saw the group of cats leaving. They had emerged on top of the cliffs and were following a trail that led into the hills in the direction of the fox head mountain. The tabby tom who brought up the rear paused and looked back over his shoulder fixing Whistlepaw with a mournful gaze. The kits were still wailing and in spite of the danger whistle paw was astonished that the full grown cats were leaving them behind.
While Whistlepaw watched the departing cats, the clouds above them seemed to peel back in the stretch of clear sky. She saw a tangle of curving vines that appeared to enclose a clouds split by a claw of lightning. It didn't look real at all, much simpler than real clouds or vines. Whistlepaw was reminded of the old marks that two legs left here and there around the lake territories. Silence had fallen while whistle paw gazed at the strange symbol. But now the wailing of the kits broke out again.
This time seeming to come from just above her head. I'm coming. Whistlepaw yelled desperately scrambling upward, but before she could reach the spot where she thought she heard the cries, her paws lost their grip on the slick rock letting out a screech of terror Whistlepaw felt the wind snatch her into the air. She caught a glimpse of the spiky rocks as she fell and landed lightly on her paws.
On the moss covered ground of a forest. Her pelt was dry. The bluing of the storm, the kit's plaintiff cries had sunk into silence. Where am I now? In front of whistle paw stood a tree strangely hollowed out as if it had been burned from the inside. She stared at it for several moments, then padded softly toward it. The outer shell seemed to wrap around her and suddenly she was inside it, standing in thick darkness. When she had experienced the dream before, it had always ended here, but this time it continued.
Gradually the darkness lifted. Whistlepaw could feel cool, air moving around her and hear the gentle lapping of waves. As the light strengthened, she realized that she was standing on her own familiar lake shore with her back to the water and river clans territory stretching out in front of her. She waited all her senses alert for what the dream was trying to tell her. A sudden, yowl startled her and suddenly she saw Mistystar, the deceased RiverClan leader lunging toward her out of a clump of Fern.
Her jaws were wide with anguish. The debt must be paid or... Whistlepaw realized that Mistystar wasn't looking at her. Instead, her gaze was fixed at something over whistle paws shoulder, whirling around panic, spiking all along her spine. Whistlepaw saw the stream that bordered the river clan camp, but instead of the gentle ripple of water, the current was sluggish and a harsh tang caught at the back of Whistlepaw's throat. The stream was flowing with blood.
