#Dawnbird
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Month 9 - Leaffall
Scorchplume wasn’t speaking to Yarrowshade and it was driving him crazy. It was over the stupidest thing, too! The night Aldertail had come to camp and Yarrowshade had tried to wait up for her return, he had woken just in time for her to slip into the leader’s den with Nightfrost and Goldenstar and she hadn’t come out.
Nightfrost had explained to him that Scorch had been withholding information about Ghost and the city cats, information that might have put everyone in danger. It was clear that Nightfrost’s opinion of Scorchplume had tanked overnight and that sucked, but he was still determined to make sure Scorch was alright.
The next morning, he’d sought her out and said, “Hey, Scorch, how are you doing?”
“As well as I can be,” she’d said, eyeing him with the same cool gaze she had used when he was visiting her in the healer’s den.
“Yeah?” he’d asked. “I was really worried about you.”
“Why?” she had turned her face away. “Weren’t you busy looking after Scrap?”
“I can worry about two things at once,” Yarrowshade had frowned.
“Hm.”
“Did you want to go hunting? Maybe we could talk about it?”
Scorch had turned to him and said, “What is there to talk about?” in a way that felt like a claw to the face.
“I… I don’t know, I just…”
At that point, Nightfrost had called out, “Yarrowshade! I’m going hunting, did you want to come?” Scorch had stared at him with her bright blue eyes for a good long beat and he'd realized this was a test.
“Scorch,” he’d started, but she’d cut him off.
“Go.” She’d said, “Don’t let me stop you from fawning over Nightfrost.”
And so he’d left in order to respect her wishes, but for some reason she’d only seemed to get angrier with him as the weeks passed. He didn’t get it! He would have gone to Smokyrose for advice, but she was still on kit leave and, besides, he knew that Scorch wasn’t exactly her favorite cat right now.
But something had to change. He and Scorchplume weren’t even on patrols together anymore and he couldn’t tell if that was because Nightfrost had decided to separate them or because Scorch had personally requested it. Either way, it was a bad sign.
He contemplated which option he would prefer as he followed in Nightfrost’s paw prints through the snow. It had come down hard that morning and while the wind had died down for once, a light dusting of flakes continued to flutter down over them as they patrolled the southern border.
Pantherhaze, walking behind him, said, “What are the odds that they just aren’t coming back?”
“They’ll be back,” Nightfrost said without looking back. Pantherhaze sighed and shook his fur. Yarrowshade studied the back of Nightfrost’s head, thinking. Was it just him or had she been colder lately? He wished he knew how to help her with all of the stress she was dealing with. If you wanted to stop stressing her out, you’d leave her alone, said a part of his mind. That was nonsense, he reasoned, but the thought had its hooks in him and it wouldn’t let go.
He sighed and let his gaze wander. The snow was starting to pile all up so high that he and Pantherhaze were belly deep in it, another reason why they were following in Nightfrost’s wake. The horizon had turned a foggy grey-white, obscuring the mountains and the farther reaches of the forest. Ahead of them, he knew the border stretched on for a long while even though he couldn’t see it. He tried to trace it with his eyes, but paused when he spotted a white shape in the snow moving in their direction.
“Is that the EarthClan patrol?” he asked, pointing with his muzzle, and Nightfrost stopped, squinting into the snow.
“Who goes there?” she called.
“Bogmist!” the white shape replied cheerfully, “And Dawnbird.” A moment later, the two EarthClan cats reached them, Dawnbird’s tortoiseshell pelt appearing suddenly from behind Bogmist’s fluffy white fur. After the gathering, Orangestar and Goldenstar had met to discuss the city cat threat and how to combat it and had come to the conclusion that they would put a temporary hold on patrolling the border between their territories and instead send those patrols to jointly watch the southern border. This was the second or third patrol of this kind Yarrowshade had been on and there was almost always at least one deputy or leader present. It seemed that both Clans were taking the city cats very seriously.
“Hello, there,” Pantherhaze smiled. “Congratulations on your warrior name, Dawnbird!”
“Thank you,” she smiled and dipped her head politely, but the smile fell off of her face shortly after. She must be disappointed her brother wasn’t there to sit vigil with her, Yarrowshade thought, once again kicking himself for his part in Toadpaw’s disappearance.
“Any news?” Bogmist asked, grey eyes sparkling.
“Not yet,” Nightfrost said. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”
“StarClan willing,” Dawnbird nodded and Pantherhaze echoed her prayer.
“Well,” Yarrowshade said, trying to sound cheery. “I hope you’re ready to walk back and forth in the snow!”
“We don’t mind,” Bogmist chirped, shaking the snow from her fur. “Whatever keeps the kits safe, right?”
“Aw, are there new kits in EarthClan?” Pantherhaze asked.
“No,” she laughed, “I don’t expect we’ll be having any new kits for some time. But I heard Smokyrose finally found herself a beau!”
“Ah,” Yarrowshade and Pantherhaze exchanged awkward glances. “She did but its… probably over between them.”
“Oh, no!” Bogmist asked, “Why?”
“Because he’s one of the rogues,” Nightfrost said curtly.
“Oh,” said Bogmist.
“Come on,” Yarrowshade said with an awkward laugh. “Let’s get to patrolling.” And so they did. It was cold and boring work, but it needed to be done. Bogmist did her best to keep up the conversation and he tried to oblige her but the longer they went the more he started to worry that Nightfrost was getting sick of it and he found his desire to respond slowly waning. They walked back and forth over the border for most of the morning and into the afternoon and found no signs of intruders, just like all the other patrols like this he’d been on. The snow at least made it easy to know if anyone had passed through. Still, Yarrowshade found his paws were starting to grow num from the cold. He thanked the stars when it finally stopped falling.
“The next patrol should be coming to relieve us soon,” Nightfrost said eventually.
“I hope so,” Bogmist said, “I’m starving!”
“Look,” Pantherhaze said, pointing up ahead, “that must be them.”
Yarrowshade looked and saw a small group of cats standing around in the track they had worn into the drifts of snow and frowned. Something wasn’t right. One of the cats turned to look at them and as he did, the bright snow glare glinted off of something around his neck.
“Those aren’t Clan cats,” he hissed and the energy changed.
“What do we do?” Dawnbird whispered. “Should I run back to camp?”
“No,” Nightfrost said, “You would show them exactly where we live. Only run if I say so.” Dawnbird nodded. The cats ahead of them had risen to their feet and were walking towards them at a leisurely pace.
“This might not be a fight,” Pantherhaze said softly.
Nightfrost started walking to meet them. “We can only hope so.”
The cat in the lead was a large, blue-grey and white tabby with an impressive stature despite his slim cheeks. He sported a blue collar with a softly tinkling bell that Yarrowshade thought clashed oddly with the claw scars on his muzzle. Behind him was Ghost - Ghost and two other cats, the brown tom that had fought with Floodpaw and a burly ginger tabby with a kittypet collar of his own.
Yarrowshade felt his hackles starting to rise. How dare Ghost show his face here? How dare he bring that mangy scoundrel back with him? He was so angry that he only barely registered that the kittypet in front seemed to be in charge.
“Hail and well met,” called the big grey tom, smiling jovially. “You must be the cats of RisingClan.”
“We are,” said Nightmist, squaring her shoulders to match his height. Yarrowshade was glad that at least one of them was as physically imposing as the stranger. “What business do you have being on our territory?”
“Not on your territory,” the kittypet corrected. “I know we aren’t welcome there, that’s why we waited on the edge of it.” Ghost glanced over his shoulder at the sable pelted tom who ducked submissively. His dark blue eyes stayed fixed on Yarrowshade though, burning with something similar to what Yarrowshade himself was feeling.
“What’s your name, my darling?” the kittypet in charge asked Nightfrost. Yarrowshade had to bite his lip to stop himself from demanding he speak to her with more respect.
“Nightfrost,” she said cooly. “Who are you?”
“My name is Razor,” the tom purred, stepping closer into Nightfrost’s space. A growl leapt to her throat, ears flicking backward and Yarrowshade took a step forward too, baring his teeth. Razor only chuckled and stepped back, although Yarrowshade noticed that he was still closer than he had been before.
“Well there’s no need for that kind of behavior,” said Razor. “I was just being friendly. Do they not have that out here in the sticks?”
“Razor,” Ghost said, and Razor glanced back at him, his smile fading for a split second. Ghost lowered his gaze immediately. Apparently he had said all he needed to say.
Razor sighed. “You’re right. We’re here on business.” Turning back to Nightfrost, he said, “I wanted to come down personally and apologize for my underlings’ behavior. I understand they got distracted picking on some of your young ones, yeah?”
“Picking on is an understatement,” Nightfrost glared. “They’re lucky they got off so easily.” The tom in the back scoffed and Ghost stepped towards him threateningly, which immediately silenced him. Razor’s ear twitched but he didn’t look back. It seemed to Yarrowshade that he was used to Ghost handling the rogues for him.
“And I am grateful,” said Razor, still smiling. “It was more than they deserved, on that we agree.” He shifted his weight to lean in again and lowered his voice as if he and Nightfrost were having a private word. “To tell you the truth, they were out here looking for a cat named Scrap who I’m eager to find. She’s a bit… unwell, you see - in the head - and I’d love to find her before she gets herself hurt. You cats wouldn’t have happened to see her anywhere, would you?”
“What does she look like?” Nightfrost asked, striking Yarrowshade again with just how smart she was. He would have told Razor to go shove something unpleasant up his rear but that would have given their position away, confirmed that they had taken Aldertail in, or at the very least caused a fight they probably didn’t want.
Razor tilted his head in Ghost’s direction. He didn’t look at him, only cast his eyes over the snow over the shoulder closest to Ghost, but Ghost received the signal all the same and said, “She’s young, a spotted brown tabby with a notched ear like this one,” he flicked his tail in the sable tom’s direction. “I believe she has blue eyes.” Razor smiled, satisfied, and looked back at Nightfrost.
Nightfrost hummed thoughtfully and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Have you checked the thunderpath? Most cats don’t survive crossing it.”
“The 'thunderpath',” Razor laughed, sounding like he was amused by the novelty of it. “I assume you mean the road back there?”
“If that’s what you call it,” shrugged Nightfrost. “The stone path the monsters prowl.”
“Monsters,” chuckled Razor again. “Yes, yes, we’ve checked the ‘thunderpath’ plenty. I’m quite certain she came this way. You’re sure you haven’t seen her?”
“I’m sure,” Nightfrost said. “You can go back to your city now.”
“Don’t be rude,” Razor said, a dangerous edge slipping into his voice. “I’m just trying to help a cat in need. We’ve been perfectly civil, haven’t we?”
“You’re not welcome on our territory,” Nightfrost said, stepping into his space this time. “Leave and don’t come back.”
“Careful, girl,” Razor rumbled, and the cats behind him tensed. “I’m not the kind of cat you should threaten.”
“I’m aware of your reputation,” Nightfrost growled back, “but I don’t care. Leave.”
“Who told you about my reputation?” Razor grinned. “Scrap? Because she’s quite paranoid, thinks everyone is out to get her. She’s not exactly the most reliable source.”
Nightfrost rolled her eyes. “I told you, I haven’t met this Scrap cat.”
“Then why don’t I believe you?” Razor purred lowly, leaning even closer to take a deep breath of her scent. Yarrowshade’s back started to arch aggressively. Behind Razor, he saw Ghost shuffle, but the older tom said nothing. Deceitful coward, Yarrowshade thought.
“She told you to leave,” he snapped, tail bristling. “If you’re smart, you would listen.”
For the first time, Razor’s eyes fell on him and suddenly he felt extremely small. Nightfrost’s jaw clenched and she closed her eyes for a frustrated beat. Had he made a mistake? His gut twisted with anxiety. If things got violent it would be his fault.
“Quiet, whelp,” Razor snarled, then smiled and said, “the big kids are talking.”
“No,” Nightfrost said firmly, “We’re done talking. Either leave now or stay and make an enemy. It's your choice.” Razor chuckled darkly, swinging his gaze back to her in a slow arc.
“Oh-ho-ho-ho, you are just adorable,” he said. There was a pause, as he looked her over with a gaze that felt deeply disrespectful, predatory even. Then he stepped back and said, “Fine. We’ll leave. Don’t let it be said that I am quick to make enemies. If you find Scrap and feel inclined to return her, I would make it worth your while. I’m sure food is hard to find this time of year, right?” When none of them responded, he shrugged, and said, “I could see you fed until spring, maybe after. All you have to do is help me out. I reward those who help me, don’t I?” One ear turned back towards the cats behind him.
“Always,” the tom with the notched ear said eagerly.
“Handsomely,” said the ginger kittypet.
Ghost simply grunted.
“See?” Razor said. “Think about it.” With that he flicked his tail and turned and started back through the snow towards the city in the distance. The kittypet followed closely behind him and the sable pelted tom slank after them about a tail length behind, keeping a respectful distance. Ghost stayed where he was, staring for a moment, and Yarrowshade glared at him.
Eventually, he spoke. “Is Smokyrose alright?” His voice was low and tense
“No thanks to you,” Yarrowshade scoffed.
“And the kits?” he asked.
“They’re fine.” Nightfrost said curtly. “Two baby girls.” Yarrowshade frowned. Why was she telling him? If he had cared about the kits he would have been there for their birth. He watched as something like relief flashed across Ghost’s face.
“I’m glad,” he said. “I would have-”
“Ghost,” barked Razor, having halted in his tracks to look back at them. “What are you up to?”
Ghost smirked and lifted his voice to say, “Oh, just familiarizing myself with the local delicacies.” Yarrowshade wanted to hurl. The ginger kittypet and the tom with the notched ear snickered, but Razor just rolled his eyes.
“We have girls in the city. Much less angry ones. Come on.”
“Alright,” Ghost called back reluctantly. Then, under his breath he said, “Tell Rose I’m sorry,” and strutted off after the other city cats, the same clawable smirk on his face. Yarrowshade was bristling until they were starting to disappear behind the snow banks.
“So that’s Smoky’s beau…” Bogmist said with a bit of a grimace. “I’m gonna be honest, I don’t get it.”
“I’m sure he was a lot more charming around her,” Pantherhaze said weakly.
“What was all that about?” Yarrowshade grumbled, “Asking about the kits, saying he’s sorry? If he had been actually sorry he wouldn’t have abandoned her in the first place.”
“Maybe Razor has some sort of leverage over him,” speculated Pantherhaze. “Maybe he couldn’t come back even if he wanted to.”
“That’s wishful thinking,” scoffed Yarrowshade. “Did you hear what he called Nightfrost? And none of them blinked an eye. No, he’s a scumbag through and through.”
“Yarrowshade,” Nightfrost said suddenly and he realized that she had been lost in her own thoughts since Ghost had left, “go back to camp and make sure that the other patrol is on their way. Pantherhaze, you too. Make sure you tell Goldenstar about everything that was discussed. Bogmist, you and Dawnbird can head back to EarthClan too.”
“Thanks, Nightfrost,” Bogmist said.
“StarClan light your path,” added Dawnbird, and the two headed off toward their camp.
“What about you?” Yarrowshade asked her, lowering his voice. “Are you gonna stay here?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ll make sure the next patrol is prepared and see to it that Razor and his ilk don’t come back.”
“They’re not gonna come back tonight anyway,” Yarrowshade said. “You should come back to camp. Maybe we can get some prey and unwind a bit.”
“Please, Yarrowshade,” she sighed, “this is not the time for flirting.”
“I’m not flirting,” he promised. “I just think you’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to relax.”
“I’m the deputy,” she said. “I’ll relax when we’re safe. Now go back to camp.”
“Promise me you’ll be back before dark?” he asked, ears wilting.
Nightfrost sighed. “Sure. I’ll be back before dark.”
“Okay,” nodded Yarrowshade, disappointed. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” He stepped forward to butt his head against her shoulder but last minute he decided against it and stepped around her instead. Pantherhaze joined him, and they started the trip back to camp.
“You okay?” Pantherhaze asked after a while.
“Yeah, I guess…” he replied. Was he okay? He didn’t really know.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Yarrowshade sighed heavily. “I just… I don’t know where I stand with her, y’know? I can’t tell if she’s just stressed or if she’s getting tired of me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Pantherhaze. That didn’t make him feel any better.
“Thanks,” he said, bumping up against his old friend. “Let’s go get out of the snow, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Pantherhaze agreed enthusiastically. “I’m freezing!”
#clan gen#clangen#warrior cats#warrior cats oc#warriors#warriors oc#clangen oc#Yarrowshade#Scorchplume#Nightfrost#Pantherhaze#Bogmist#Dawnbird#Razor#Ghost#Van Pelt#clangenrising
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My current BG3 characters
#ashley rowan art#artists on tumblr#digital art#dnd art#oc art#d&d art#dnd oc#d&d oc#fan art#bg3#bg3 art#bg3 fan art#bg3 tav#baldur's gate oc#baldur's gate#baldurs gate 3#bg3 oc#Mel#Dawnbird#Trouble
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your julian and keiko post made me want more of them so can I get a 🎲 for them?
YES so happy to get this thank you for giving me an excuse to write them. they are on my BRAIN
you rolled... 30! a kiss to the palm of the hand. which I think is very fitting for these two hehe. went for something simple and cute for this one, hope you enjoy!!
"I can't believe I did that." Keiko huffs, trying not to wince as Julian inspects the cuts scored into her hand.
"Oh, don't beat yourself up, Keiko," Julian says, gently angling her hand to get a better look, "It could've happened to anybody! And these aren't bad, just a quick once-over with the good ol' dermal regenerator and you'll be fit as a fiddle." He assures her.
He's very sweet, but unfortunately for him, Keiko is determined to be annoyed about this. "Oh, sure, anybody could've made that mistake," She agrees, "But I'm not anybody! I'm a professional! And I should know the difference between a scarlet dawnbird and a scarlet dragonbite, so that things like this," She gestures at her wounded hand, "Don't happen."
It really was a rookie mistake. She'd spotted the signature red petals of what she thought was a scarlet dawnbird- a gorgeous flowering plant native to Bajor, with large bright red blooms that light up when the sun hits them just so- and she'd been thrilled because it would've been her first time spotting one in person. They're rare flowers, and have a very short blooming season. Well, in her excitement, she forgot to check the stems, which would've told her if they were dawnbirds, or dragonbites.
Dawnbirds have smooth, sturdy stems with large, velvety leaves. Dragonbites also have large, velvety leaves, which do a wonderful job of hiding the wicked sharp thorns that cover the entire length of the stem.
And Keiko went ahead and grabbed the stem so that she could show Julian the blossom in the sun. She only succeeded in slicing her hand into ribbons.
Julian gives her a smile. The one that says I know what you're doing. He's far too good at reading her. "Yes, how silly of me," He hums, "I forgot you, the great Keiko O'Brien, were immune to error. Do forgive me." He fishes out his dermal regenerator and gets to work, making quick work of healing her hand.
Keiko sighs. She knows she's being ridiculous. He doesn't need to tell her- she knows. "It's not that I'm immune to error," She says, her tone softening somewhat, "I should just be immune to... these kinds of mistakes. I know better than to just grab at plants before identifying them. I was just... excited." Like a happy little schoolgirl, she leaves out.
"Well, I can hardly fault you for that," Julian replies. He's got his doctor voice on- the one he uses to soothe a patient. She's seen him use it on all kinds, from Klingons nursing stab wounds to Molly with skinned knees. It's very soothing, settling her agitated mood, despite herself, "You said those dawnbirds are quite rare, yes? I'd be excited, too, in your shoes."
Keiko feels herself starting to smile. He makes it too easy. She shouldn't be surprised that he remembers her talking about them, he remembers almost everything, but it's still nice. "I wanted to show you," She admits, even though it makes her cheeks flush, "The dawnbirds get their name from the shape of their petals, and from the way they light up when the sun hits them. They glow, Julian- Nerys says they're like embers. And I've never seen one in person, so I thought..." She glances at her hand, healed now, the only sign of injury being the blood that's dried in the lines of her palm and fingers, "I thought it'd be nice if you got to see it, too."
Julian takes a moment to clean off her hand, scrubbing away any evidence that she'd ever been hurt. "That's very sweet," He tells her, his smile going warm and affectionate in that cute way it does, "That you wanted to share that moment with me, I mean. And here I thought I was the romantic one." There's a teasing lilt to his voice. His hands linger on hers.
"Well," Keiko puts on her best winning smile, bats her lashes, "I have my moments."
"That you do," Julian agrees with a chuckle. He checks her hand again and nods, satisfied, "There you are, Mrs. O'Brien. Good as new. Just one more thing." He says.
"Oh?" Keiko raises a brow, "I thought you said it only needed the dermal regenerator."
"A dermal regenerator is all well and good," Julian says, "But it's got nothing on..." And then he lifts her hand to his face, presses a kiss to her palm, "That," He gives her a grin, and lets her take her hand back, "How's it feel?"
Keiko blushes again. She can practically feel the shade of red she's going. She flexes her fingers experimentally, and as promised, her hand is good as new. "Feels just perfect." She tells him.
"Good," Julian pushes himself up, gives himself a quick dust-off, "Now, shall we head back before Miles sends out a search party?" He holds his hand out to her.
Keiko takes it. "Lead the way." She invites, letting him pull her to her feet. He doesn't let go of her hand, and she makes no move to drop his. His thumb brushes over her knuckles, and she leans into his side, bumping her shoulder against his.
Somewhere along the way, she forgets she was ever annoyed.
#fic bitching#star trek: ds9#keiko o'brien#julian bashir#ot3: o'briens + 1#hope you enjoyed anon!!#this was sm fun to write#I love them and the dynamic ive made for them in my head#the O'Brien polycule posting is always so dominated by Julian/Miles so I love to focus on Keiko#have we considered that her and Julian are in love and they flirt and theyre sweet and cute#have we considered it#I beg us all to consider
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The Grave
Dutch stood for a long time, at a distance, before he was able to approach the grave.
Early morning mist still brushed over the land, gently stroking the earth as it passed, softening, quieting. The sun was rising, and dawnbirds were singing, and everything was still and calm and beautiful. The flowers that grew around the grave were mildly fragrant, dew glittering in the firstlight, on every petal, making it look as though someone had scattered jewells over his resting place.
He hadn't expected the sob that choked him. It accosted him, very suddenly, gripping his chest and strangling him. He gasped through the tightness in his throat, a hitching, shuddering breath that made his chest ache.
Dutch hadn't felt very much of anything since that night...so the sudden surge of feeling hit him like a gunshot.
He let out a ragged breath and scrubbed his hands over his face, over his eyes, and walked towards the grave.
The name carved onto the headstone burned into his eyes like a brand, and he knew he would never be able to unsee it.
Arthur Morgan.
Dutch sank to his knees before the grave.
"My boy..."
The sob tore through him then, and he began to cry. His tears fell hot and slowly down his face, a stark contrast to the dawn chill that had gripped him. He let the tears fall and flow unchecked; he didn't wipe his face. He spoke, eventually, once his breathing had slowed to a less ragged gasp.
"I...I didn't think it would hurt me so much," he spoke into the silence. "I knew... I knew you were gone...and it has been so long... but this...hurts."
Dutch gently touched the stone, still chilled from night. He ran his fingers along the curve and let his hand fall back to his side.
"I...I wanted to tell you... he continued, his voice sounding so strange to him, spoken with such feeling, into the silent morning, to nobody. He shook his head, and a fresh sob rose up through his body. "I need to tell you that I'm sorry."
He doubled over, then, and his grief took him. His head in his hands, he weaped, his sobs hitching painfully through his body, shaking him, choking him. Tears ran down his neck, wet his beard and flowed. There were no arms to comfort him, there were no soft words. Dutch sat alone and cried for his son.
By the time his tears began to slow and his breathing relaxed, the morning mist was almost gone from the land.
Dutch wiped his face and his nose on his hands, absently rubbed the wetness onto his trousers.
"I know I let you down," he continued, his voice raw. "I know...If you hadn't gotten sick, I would have...I could have... I saw him for what he truly was, in the end. But...it was too late. It was all just... too late."
A slight breeze had come to ruffle his hair and stroke it back from his forehead. He sighed, shook his head.
"I...I don't know how I lost my way... Everything was so clear, all my life, I was in control... but things just grew bigger and bigger, and it became harder to control. It's like being given a handful of sand...it was easy to hold, at first, it was comfortable in my hands. But it grew and grew, and it became much harder to hold...it-it started to slip between my fingers, and the more I grasped at it, the more would spill..."
Dutch let his eyes unfocous, staring into nowhere.
"It was easy, in the beginning...We had each other, Hosea..." His voice died on his lips. "Ahh, Hosea...losing him...that was..." he shook his head, pushed the thoughts aside. "When we were truly a family, at the start, everything made sense. We were good men, Arthur, we were good men, we were doing good, living free. But it started to get too much to hold..."
Dutch shook his head, even older griefs reaching out to touch him with icy fingers.
"When I lost my Annabelle... I think that's when I began to lose everything. But our gang grew, I had more mouthes to feed, more people to take care of, we took John in..."
Again, Dutch pushed his thoughts aside.
"I...I have made a lot of mistakes. That's for sure. What happened at Blackwater, that was when it all just got too much for me to keep hold of. Everything just... kept spinning out of control, and it got worse and worse, and the more I tried to pull it back, the more it spun. And Micah -" he cut himself off with a snarl.
He looked down at the grave before him again.
"I should have listened to you...I should have heard you. And Hosea... But that-that-that rat...he just kept telling me everything I wanted to hear, he kept giving me everything I needed while you and John and Hosea all just started doubting me..."
Dutch frowned, thinking back to it all.
"I lost my way, son..." he finished weakly. "I lost you..."
Dutch took a shaking breath and wiped his eyes once more as fresh tears began to prickle.
"When Hosea...died...ahhhh, he always was the one man who would make things solid and steady. Sometime it feels like I'm standing on the deck of a ship, and everything begins to bob and tilt and move beneath me...Hosea was the man who could make eveything still and calm and solid again...when things got hard for me to hold, he would help me, he would help me gather up the sand..."
Dutch shook his head. "I'm not making any sense...I'm starting to sound crazy... maybe I always was crazy."
Morning had begun to bloom in earnest then, the dawn replaced by day.
"I can't stay here for too long, son," he spoke. "I'm going to make this right. I know I can't bring you back, I know I can't turn time backwards - lord only knows what I'd give to go back, to do things differently, to go back to before Blackwater, when everything was..." he let his voice die.
"I am going up the mountain..." he continued his train of thought. "Micah Bell..." Dutch turned and spat, "I have arranged to meet old Micah Bell up on mount Hagan. I am going to put things right, I'm going to end this."
Dutch absently ran his fingers through the flowers, his hand becoming wet with the dewdrops.
"He has a gang, now, his very own gang. But they won't be his for long." Dutch smiled bitterly. "I have been corresponding with him, pretending like I want to work with him again, like the good old days." The last was spoken through clenched teeth. "He has been given the exact location of the money, Arthur... the money from Blackwater, from all those years ago. I sent him to retrieve it for me..."
He looked down at the flowers and wiped his wet hand on his trousers.
"You wanted John to live..." he said. "and I can see now, why. Your last act of kindness. Even throughout all the madness and death, you were still so very kind, my son. And for you, for him, I'm going to make things right."
Dutch shifted his weight, his legs aching.
"They might not let me live, after I kill Micah...or they might just blindly follow me, who knows. I might never return from that mountain. I don't care either way. But I want that money to go to John. Now I know where he is, and I know that he's on Micah's trail. I made certain that the information got to him, down in Beechers Hope. So I know he will be there to claim his revenge, to avenge his brother. But when he gets up there, Micah will be dead and the money from Blackwater will be there waiting for him...and John...well, John will live, just as you insisted."
Dutch smiled down bitterly at the grave.
"See, son? I always have a plan..."
Dutch's smile waverd and died on his lips.
"I miss you..." he whispered. "I miss you. You were like a son to me... you were more than that...
"Perhaps I'll see you very soon, son...and Hosea, Annabelle. It...it will be nice to come home..."
Dutch stood, his limbs aching.
Sunshine had crept over the land as he had sat by the grave, turning the world beautiful and warm and golden and bright. Birds called, the breeze whispered, and everything was calm.
A stag stood grazing, not too far away, seemingly unafraid. It looked up at him as he stood, and the two made eye contact.
"I love you, son," Dutch spoke, his voice full of tears once more. "I always loved you...and I'm sorry."
He wrenched his eyes from the animal and took one long, last look at the grave, then turned and walked away.
#red dead redemption 2#dutch van der linde#ao3fic#arthur morgan#red dead fandom#red dead redemption fanfiction#archive of our own#rdr2
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Songwriter, singer and Irish icon Shane MacGowan has died at age 65. Famous as the frontman for the band The Pogues, MacGowan melded rock energy with Irish folk. But he was almost as famous for his struggles with alcohol as for his music, as host Marco Werman explains. LISTEN 2:19 https://theworld.org/media/2023-11-30/pogues-shane-macgowan-dies
Shane MacGowan, irascible frontman of The Pogues, has died at age 65
:His band, The Pogues, was once described as a barroom brawl with instruments."
""I'm just following the Irish way of life," MacGowan said in Crock of Gold. "Cram as much pleasure as you can in your life and rile against the pain that you have to suffer as a result and then wait for it to be taken away with beautiful pleasure."
November 30, 2023 2-Minute Listen https://www.npr.org/2023/11/30/1213870952/shane-macgowan-pogues-obit
Shane MacGowan: A personal tribute…
READ MORE https://sluggerotoole.com/2023/11/30/shane-macgowan-a-personal-tribute/#respond
71 Comments <"Shane wrote most Pogues songs but Misty Morning was Jem Finer.">
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“Lonesome Highway” from his second and last solo album “The Crock of Gold”
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Remembering Shane MacGowan, frontman of the Irish punk band The Pogues November 30, 2023
So I’ll leave this with my favourite Shame MacGowan lyric – “Misty Morning Albert Bridge”.
Thanks for the songs maestro.
I dreamt we were standing by the banks of the Thames
Where the cold grey waters ripple in the misty morning light
Held a match to your cigarette, watched the smoke curl in the mist
Your eyes, blue as the ocean between us, smiling at me.
I awoke subcon an lonely in a faraway place
The Sun fell cold upon my face, the cracks in the ceiling spelt hell
Turned to the wall, pulled the sheets around my head
Tried to sleep, dream my way back to you again.
Count the days slowly passing by
Step on a plane and fly away
I’ll see you then as the dawnbirds sing
On a cold and misty morning by the Albert bridge.
We remember Shane MacGowan, frontman of the Irish punk band The Pogues. He died on Thursday at 65.
LISTEN 01:15 https://www.wbur.org/hereandnow/2023/11/30/shane-macgowan-the-pogues
‘Greatest lyricist’: Irish president leads Ireland’s tributes to Shane MacGowan
(Irish president)"Michael D Higgins compares Pogues frontman’s songs with ‘perfectly crafted poems’ "
"Gerry Adams, the former Sinn Féin leader, called MacGowan a good friend and said he had been with him last week when he was released from hospital.
“Shane was an extraordinary human being whose music and kindness lifted people’s spirit,” Adams said in a statement. “Tá sé anois ar shlí na fírinne” – he said, which can be translated as “he has gone to his eternal reward”.
READ MORE https://www.theguardian.com/music/2023/nov/30/greatest-lyricist-irish-president-leads-irelands-tributes-shane-macgowan
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💋💋💋 On the cheek while Master Lucilius is asleep! >8/!!!!!
It’s Sinday! Send 💋 to straight up kiss my muse! -- Accepting! -- @ardensfides
The one time he decides to take a rest on the couch, instead of his bed after a long surgery, he sleeps through some attention. While normally on guard, he slept through her kiss. Breathing out a sigh in his sleep, the Astral doesn't flinch or move. Perhaps he knows she's there, without showing it?
Or, who's to say he was truly asleep to begin with?
#𓆰; lucilius; ic#ardensfides#He'll get you back for that his little Dawnbird#𓆰; I stopped asking for forgiveness 'cause you should know / Only fools tread where the angels fear to go ( lucilius & tessael )#∘Granblue Fantasy#∘Question
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Warrior cat adopts! Each design has a name attached to them but you’re more than welcome to change their name once you adopt them. They don’t even have to stay in the warriors universe. They’re yours to do with as you please!
Just send me a DM to claim any designs you want! Payment through PayPal. You’ll get the full size clean image too
Beechclaw - SOLD
Dawnbird - $15 - OPEN
Specklefrost - $15 - OPEN
Lakeflower - SOLD
Honestripe - $15 - OPEN
Reedshade - $15 - OPEN
Prickletuft - SOLD
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Echoflight, Deputy of PeakClan
a short, fluffy gray tabby molly with a cream underbelly and blue eyes
Echokit > Echopaw > Echoflight
“Don’t you worry about any of that, dear. I’ll take care of it, ok?”
Affiliations
Current: PeakClan
Age
49 moons
Kin
Sisters: Dawnbird, Silverpaw
Sibling: Windyfur
Mate: Wolfstep
Daughters: Leopardpaw, Duskpaw
Son: Talonpaw
Nieces: Icefall, Snowshine
Deputy Position
Preceded by: Blizzardstar
Personality
Echoflight is beloved throughout her clan for being a softspoken, gentle molly, and she is well regarded as being the heart of PeakClan. She is the emotional side to Blizzardstar’s tactical leadership, and her close knit relationship with all of her Clanmates makes her a wonderful liaison between Blizzardstar and the rest of the Clan, able to use her charisma and influence as a way to reassure them of Blizzardstar’s good intentions, as the tom can run a little closed off and secretive. She truly does love PeakClan, and a natural mother, cats both young and old seem to flock to her for advice and support, and her, having already lost many family members, welcomes her Clanmates with an open heart, considering each of them to be a treasured member of her family. She isn’t much of a fighter, but is very articulate, and encourages her Clan, as well as her own children to use their words, not their claws.
Backstory
Echoflight has always considered herself to be quite average. Having lost her parents young, as kits she and her littermates, Silverkit and Windykit looked up to their older sister Dawnbird and enjoyed frequent visits from her friend Blizzardbite. The kits often played with the warriors and practiced their moves. Echokit, however, realized that she didn’t much care for fighting, and wondered whether or not she was being pulled towards the medicine den. She may have considered pursuing it, but upon understanding that Windykit could see no other future for themself, she didn’t mind becoming a warrior apprentice.
She and her siblings were made apprentices in newleaf. But the next leafbare was harsh and made hunting difficult, and the mountainsides treacherous. While her sister, Silverpaw was eager to get out there and be the best apprentice she could be in a time of crisis, Echopaw was more wary. She wished she could be in the medicine den with Windypaw, warm and safe, but knew that becoming a medicine cat because she was cold and hungry was a rotten way to think and decided that it was for the best that she be there to keep her overzealous sister in line. Unfortunately, however, one fateful morning, while out hunting, Silverpaw slipped off an icy ledge, and crashed through a frozen stream. Echopaw and their mentors weren’t able to get her out. Echopaw, Windypaw, and Dawnbird were devastated, and in a turn of events more bitter than sweet, Echoflight was made a warrior not long after. Having lost her sister, Echoflight sought to comfort her Clanmates who were also reeling from feelings of loss during the harsh leafbare as sickness swept through the camp.
She was given an apprentice to mind when MeadowClan and PeakClan started to have some tension at the worst possible time. Additionally, with Blizzardbite deputy, Dawnbird expecting, and Windyfur acting as sole medicine cat after the sickness, she was mostly navigating alone. She was devastated when Dawnbird was lost to her too, further into the war, but she coped with her grief by being there for Blizzardbite and her nieces, Snowkit and Icekit as well as her Clanmates, as helping them keep their lives together distracted her from the fact that hers felt like it was falling apart. During this time she bonded with Wolfstep, a warrior also reeling from the grief of losing a sibling.
She didn’t expect to be made deputy, but accepted the position when Blizzardstar became leader, and followed his lead in trying to bring the war to an end. After the war, and after Snowshine and Icefall were made warriors, Echoflight realized that it suited her to raise kits, and she wanted to raise those kits with Wolfstep. When she found she was expecting, she continued her duties from the nursery. Her kits have been apprenticed, and shes holding up despite having lost Windyfur suddenly. She has her mate kits and friends to get her through it.
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at night, I lie naked on a bed of burdock, stretch
my arms out toward Helel —
‘Evestar,’ I beseech him, ‘Bringer of Fire, Keeper
of Light; o, won’t you come
and lay the honey of your lips
upon my thigh?’
too long and arduous are the hours
God has assigned to Desire. I burn alive, sweeten
as a wasp in the pale of a fig,
a beacon scarlet, sea-bright.
at last the angel
moves to mercy: ‘O Woman, how beautiful you are
like this, garbed in your curses.’
‘We are well-matched, then. You too have shared
your bed with serpents, crawled
in their skin.’ he laughs. I find
myself embraced,
all my blood pressed
to peonies.
dawnbirds
august 5th, 2019 / / lianna schreiber
#spilled ink#writers on tumblr#poets on tumblr#poetry#poem#free verse#freeverse#freeform#free form#inkstain#quotidie#2019
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Blood and Starlight Part 3
My guys, I am SO SORRY it took so long for this to get out. The tragedy made my depression attack my brain with a vengeance, and of course, college waits for no one. However! I am back, and ready to drag you guys off the cliff I left you on. Thanks for all the support, and I hope you enjoy :3
Part One Part Two
It took every ounce of self-control for Daybreak to keep her expression calm. Her hands from shaking, curling into fists.
It had taken a week for Starfall to try something like this. Frankly, she should have been surprised he hadn’t tried this sooner.
“The party’s in a couple days.” He murmured, breath warming her ear. “I have a good eye for this kind of thing, but try it on in case.”
If she hadn’t had so many years of self-discipline from her bloodbending training, she would have snapped.
The dress was silky, red, and cut in the most revealing ways imaginable. She wouldn’t even have minded that, but he was making her wear it.
And that color. No way was it a coincidence.
The warmth of his presence at her back was gone, the door shutting with a soft click.
Her hands weren’t shaking from fear anymore. No, now it was rage. And rage was dangerous for her.
She spotted a tiny plastic pouch on the side of the dress, containing a bit of gold thread and a spare button.
Daybreak ran her fingers over the glittering string, ignoring the pang in her chest. Gold had been her mentor’s color, her costume had glittered with it like sunlight and fire.
One of the rarest superhumans ever, with the power of flight and empathy.
Gold was a sign that an empath was on the scene, ready to help victims and talk sense into enemies. Gold was a sign that Daybreak wasn’t alone anymore.
It was a symbol of peace.
Inspiration flashed, quick as lightning on a clear day.
It took her awhile to find one of Starfall’s maids (because of course, he had maids), and even longer to convince the older woman she could “mend” the dress herself.
Dawnbird had been the one who taught her to sew, after all. Might as well utilize the whole skill set she’d been left with.
“What’s the matter? Don’t feel like dancing?”
Daybreak had to struggle to keep the smirk off of her face, keeping her lips marshaled into a serene smile.
A single muscle twitched in Starfall’s cheek. That was all she got. And all she needed.
“You certainly...added your own touch to it.” he said, eyes sweeping up and down her body.
She tried not to flinch under his gaze, instead of lifting her chin and steadying her gaze at him.
The dress was now glittering with gold embroidery, silhouettes of feathers and wings curving and shimmering against the red. Dawnbird’s symbol, over and over and over, shining in his face.
The only hero who had managed to take him down.
And the first hero who he had killed.
It wasn’t unnoticed. This party was swarming with villains, the ones who Starfall had spared, not to mention civilian billionaires and philanthropists.
Starfall had launched this little party as a “charity event”, the money used to rebuild the parts of the city after it had crumbled under the villain’s rule. In actuality, it was to show off that he had her under his thumb, and would be taking the place of the city’s underground ruler.
Her dress was getting smirks from every villain in the room. And unlike Starfall’s plan, it wasn’t at her expense.
“Shall we?” he asked softly, leading her out onto the dance floor.
She didn’t resist. Being in the center would make sure everyone saw her act of defiance, however tiny.
The ballroom was well-lit with chandeliers, all marble floors and columns. Stairs leading up to the second floor and the rest of the huge, elaborate manor. It made her stomach lurch, all that wealth wasted with the city still falling apart at the seams.
“If I weren’t a gentleman, I’d rip that dress off you.” Starfall hissed in her ear.
Daybreak felt a thrill in her chest. He was more riled than she had expected, and she only hoped others were catching his icy expression.
“If you were a gentleman, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.” she pointed out calmly.
His grip tightened on her waist. “Just try not to embarrass me any more tonight, if you can manage that.”
He spun her, and as she moved, she let a grin slip loose.
“No promises,” she whispered, too quiet for him to hear.
The rest of the party passed relatively uneventfully.
She was paraded around on Starfall’s arm, but Dawnbird’s symbol covering her rather ruined the effect he was going for.
She smiled and greeted guests, and acted like his perfect little thing. But this was only step one.
She had no idea what step two would be, but is Starfall was this easily angered, Daybreak was sure she could think something up.
The hours stretched on, until Starfall moved his arm from under her hand to around her waist.
He gave a quiet laugh and as she stiffened, then turned to address his guests.
“I’m so grateful you could all come tonight, but I’m afraid Daybreak and I must retire for the evening. Thank you for your generous donations, and you’re free to stay as long as you like. Good evening.”
Then he was lifting her up, into his arms in a bridal carry.
Her first instinct was to writhe out, then smack him across the face for good measure. But then they were moving, rapidly ascending into the air...they were...
They were flying.
Starfall could fly.
Her hands gripped the front of his suit, and his laugh rumbled against her.
“I’ve got a couple surprises up my sleeve too, darling.”
He had completely upstaged her.
Starfall had two powers...that hadn’t been seen since...Dawnbird.
He had used her own act of defiance to remind everyone just how powerful he was; not only had he killed the only other double-powered superhuman alive, he had her protege at his beck and call.
Her dress only highlighted that.
Daybreak laid back on her bed, in the room he had provided for her. At least he didn’t make her stay with him. But the room was dark, and quiet, as the guests silently filed out of the manor.
The dress suddenly felt ridiculous, gaudy, a fool’s dream.
She stood, reaching back to unzip it, and go to sleep for as long as she could.
Her closet door swung open suddenly.
She immediately dropped into a fighting position, eyes widening as she saw not clothes behind the door, but a swirling blue void.
A gangly twenty-something stepped through slowly, hands in the air. “Easy, Ms. Daybreak. Not here to start anything.”
She didn’t budge. The portal shimmered back into darkness.
The silence stretched out. Daybreak narrowed her eyes.
She had seen this boy before...but where?
“Who are you?!” she whisper-shouted.
“My name’s Jason,” he said nervously, glancing at her bedroom door. “We’ve met before.”
Daybreak frowned. “Where?”
The boy smiled. “You saved my life from Starfall. Now I’m gonna save you.”
To be continued...
Tagging: @saidainabook @wishesofxadia @ithebookdragoni@fillerusernametr@acaiaforrest @unicorndefiance
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Additional Armor
Iceflow claimed by bellows,
a Hephaestean dibs moves material toward
then to intended purpose. I am galvanized
like the licking of winter lips, a below
of if and only if by geological slowness
the coming up to temp can be tempered
untemporary. Oh, forgetful river recalls
to physical feature, cools the work
to stone unevenly, the febrile blood
drawn away like a dawnbird calling
until an hour late you realize it is gone.
The breastplate is imperfect, susceptible
and obviously so. I will see you on the other shore.
- B B Pine
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If Dawnbird is Flora Reinhold…Then Toadpaw can be Luke Triton from Professor Layton! VA is Maria Darling…I think.
Ooh, fun suggestion, but Luke Triton is british and I think it would be very odd if her brother inexplicably had a different accent than she did lol
25 Risingbucks anyway!
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I have an OC that is based on a chicken, but I don't want to give her the chicken- prefix because it's really weird, and I thought feather- or egg- was also too simple or too uncommon. Any suggestions for prefixes related to chicken? She's very fierce and somewhat irritable, but very loyal and with a good heart (I'm temporarily calling her Acornfeather)
Hi! I really like the name Acornfeather for a chicken-based cat, but here are some other prefixes I thought might suit her:
Brave- (it’s typically for quiet kits, but it reminded me of her immediately)
Hen- (it’s simple and cute!)
Mottle- (depending on the chicken she’s based on)
Dawn- (another dependent on color, but roosters do crow at dawn!)
Rooster- (kind of clunky like Chicken-, though)
Crow- (for. for the crowing at dawn.)
Talon- (less chicken related, but.)
You didn’t ask for suffixes, but here are some that I think might pair well:
-spur (or -talon, -wing, or -feather to keep with the bird theme)
-bird
-spark (for her irritable nature)
-heart (for being loyal :) don’t pair with brave- though pfpf)
I think Henwing, Dawnbird, Talonwing, Bravebird, Roosterheart, Mottlefeather, and possibly Henspur/Henspark all sound like they might be good for a chicken-based cat. She sounds very cute and I hope these helped!
#mod x#advice#anonymous#brave#brave-#hen#hen-#acornfeather#mottle#mottle-#dawn#dawn-#rooster#rooster-#crow#crow-#talon#talon-#spur#-spur#chicken#chicken-#-talon#-wing#wing#feather#-feather#bird#-bird#spark
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A good Aldertail voice might be Flora Reinhold from Professor Layton? Her voice in the movie is different, I’m talking about the games. VA is Lani Minella.
youtube
Oh hmm. This is a great performance but its very far from what I pictured. Probably not the voice for Aldertail but looking at my list of characters, I think she could be fitting for Dawnbird from EarthClan!
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Does Barleypaw and Sparrowpaw have any cross clan friends? Sparrow probably doesn’t given Russet is his mentor, but how about Barley?
Sparrowpaw is friendly with several cats from other Clans but there aren't any he would consider a friend. And for the most part, Barleypaw is too shy to make friends outside of her Clan, especially since there's a bit of an age gap around her and her siblings, but she gets along with Dawnbird of EarthClan pretty well.
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Month 15 - Newleaf
Battle With Razor Pt 7
Scorchplume couldn’t believe what she was doing. The further into the woods they went, the louder the sounds of yowling, fighting cats grew. It was overwhelming. It made her want to crawl into a hole and close her eyes until everything was over. But Goldenstar needed her. She found it hard to believe that Oddstripe had been given a mystical vision of doom but, if there was anything she could believe, it was that Goldenstar was in danger.
A grey shape moved in her peripheral vision and Scorch sucked in a sharp, fearful breath. Oddstripe twisted to follow her gaze and his shoulders loosened in relief.
“Stormwhisper!” he cried around the yarrow in his mouth.
“Oddstripe?” The shape that wasn’t Razor turned to face them with a surprised expression.
“Oddstripe?” Sagetooth’s voice echoed his question cantankerously. The healer stomped out from behind a tree to glare at them. When she spotted Scorch, her expression flattened to something close to resignation. “And Scorchplume. What in the Dark Forest are you doing here?” The other healers craned their necks to see what the fuss was about.
“I had a vision!” Oddstripe explained, moving closer. “Have any of you seen Goldenstar? Scorchplume needs to get to her right away.”
“No,” Sagetooth shook her head, “She’s probably in the thickest of the fighting.” Scorch swallowed thickly and tried to keep her eyes from darting around at every noise.
“Then that’s where we have to go,” Oddstripe said reluctantly.
“You’ll get yourself killed,” Sagetooth snapped.
“She’s right,” said Stormwhisper, “it’s too dangerous.”
“This was stupid,” Scorch huffed, tail twitching. “I shouldn’t even be here.”
“No, no!” Oddstripe’s ears pressed back against his skull. “My vision was very clear! If Scorchplume doesn’t get to Goldenstar, she’ll die!”
“She has nine lives,” Sagetooth said. “She’s prepared to lose one of them to kill Razor.” Scorch grit her teeth and held her tongue. That was part of the problem!
Oddstripe shook his head in distress. “No, I mean she’ll die die! Like completely dead!”
“That’s ridiculous,” huffed Sagetooth. “That only happens if a cat gets sick or drowns, things that can’t be healed immediately.”
“You all sound insane,” Scorch hissed. “She’s probably already dead.” She almost wished that were true. In that case, she would have something final to hold onto instead of floating unmoored in this unbearable uncertainty.
Sagetooth growled to herself, tail lashing. “Hush, kit. Don’t speak on things you know nothing about.”
“Stormwhisper!” a voice called from the other side of the small clearing. “It’s Darkmoon!” Dawnbird came dashing in as Coyotechaser and Sparrowpaw trailed behind with a bloody Darkmoon limping between them.
“Bring him over here!” Stormwhisper said, attention completely diverted. “Blazingbrush, grab the poppy seeds!”
“On it!”
“He’s having trouble breathing,” Sparrowpaw said, sparing only a brief glance their way.
Sagetooth chewed her lip for a second and then said, “Oddstripe, if you’re completely sure, you should go looking. StarClan will guide you.”
“Alright,” nodded Oddstripe. He stepped up beside Scorchplume and looked towards the battlefield, tail arched behind him.
“This is crazy,” Scorchplume said. “You know this is crazy, right?”
“I know,” Oddstripe fretted, looking at his son who was already darting back towards the battle. “I can’t do nothing though.” He stepped forward, then stopped all of a sudden, eyes wide. “Do you see that?”
Scorch leaned in to follow his gaze. “What? I don’t see anything.”
“Look!” he said breathily, pointing with his muzzle. “See how the sun is shining through those trees?” Scorch looked again. The trees seemed completely normal, the dawn light filtering in between the leaves. There was a small trail of stronger light where the branches let in more of the sun’s rays. It didn’t seem particularly special to her mind.
“So?” she asked.
“It’s leading perfectly through the trees,” Oddstripe said, already bounding towards it. “We have to follow it!”
“What?!” Scorch bristled. “But it’s nowhere near the battle!”
“Come on!” was all he said, shouting over his shoulder.
Scorch let out a frustrated whine, claws kneading the damp earth in frustration. This was insane! She was following a crazy person into the woods for no reason! Still, she glanced around and decided she didn’t want to stay here and she knew she wouldn’t have the stomach to just go back, so she dashed to catch up with him. She hoped that Goldenstar actually needed her help or else she was going to feel so stupid after this.
She followed Oddstripe through the trees for a while as he raced along the thin line of sunlight that cut a path between the trees. Scorch had to admit, it was strange how continuous the line was, how it was never blocked by shrubbery and it never led them up the side of a tree. She shrugged it off as a freaky coincidence. The sound of fighting faded behind them, allowing her nerves to settle just a bit.
Then, suddenly, the playful sound of a bell rattling with effort.
“Wait, shh!” she hissed softly. “Stop!”
Oddstripe did so, ears perked attentively. “What is that?”
“A collar bell,” she whispered, “It’s one of the Exalted. What are they doing all the way out here?”
“Let’s go look,” Oddstripe said, creeping closer.
“W- Don’t-!” Scorch bristled indignantly. Her protests didn’t slow him and with another frustrated kneading, she slank after him.
Ahead of them was a small clearing in which a large tabby tom stood hunched over something, shaking it in his jaws. Scorch’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of Razor. What was he doing out here?! She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was beating so fast she thought her body might explode.
“Oh, Stars,” Oddstripe whispered beside her, his voice full of horror.
At the sound, Razor turned to face them, eyes searching the underbrush, and Scorch gasped. The thing in his jaws was Goldenstar, her body limp and bloody, eyes gazing vacantly as her head lolled in their direction. Razor dropped the body and it hit the ground with a wet thump.
“Who’s out there?” he asked, teeth bared. Scorch took a step back. Oddstripe started to move forward.
“What are you doing?!” Scorch said in a whisper so high it was almost a squeak.
“I have to help her,” Oddstripe said, shifting his posture lower as if about to sprint.
“She’s dead!” Scorch hissed. “There’s no helping her now!”
“There you are,” Razor’s voice sent a chill down her spine. The way his eyes swept over the shrub told her he couldn’t see them yet but he stepped over Goldenstar’s body and prowled in their direction.
Scorchplume had no idea what possessed her to step forward in that moment. She should have run. She should have left Oddstripe to his foolishness and started heading for the hills. Instead, she inexplicably walked straight into the fire and she had no idea why.
When Razor saw her, his furious snarl softened in surprise. “Gingersnap.” He said.
Scorchplume swallowed dryly. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. Oddstripe was right behind her somewhere, sure to be discovered. Carefully, she sidestepped Razor to get a better look at the corpse, hoping to lead his attention away from the hidden healer.
“Razor, what have you done?” she asked hoarsely. She stared past the body and let her vision fog, unable to actually look at the grisly details marring the pelt of the cat she had been sharing a nest with for the last few weeks.
“Don’t be like that,” Razor frowned, closing distance with her. He licked the blood from his muzzle and buried his nose in the fur at the back of her neck. She stiffened under his touch, stomach turning queasily. It felt like he had her insides in a vice and was squeezing them as hard as he could.
“Forget about the savage, Gingersnap. She’s gone now.”
Scorch inhaled shakily. “Razor, please…”
“What?” he asked, a hint of annoyance replacing the sickly sweet tone he had been using. “Please what, little bird?”
“Please, just…” She didn’t know where she was going with this. “Just let me go.”
Razor’s posture shifted dangerously. “Let you go?” he breathed. “Careful, Gingersnap. You almost sound like you don’t want to go back with me.”
“I don’t,” she sobbed, backing away. “I never did!”
“That’s a lie,” he shouted, “words planted in your head by that filthy wild cat!” Scorch, hunched down against the ground, spared one glance past him at Goldenstar’s body. Oddstripe was crouched over her, rubbing chewed up yarrow over her gaping wounds in a futile display of optimism. Razor’s paw shot out and pushed her chin upwards.
“Don’t look at her!” he snapped. “She’s gone now. Look at me.”
“Stop it!” she cried, pushing him away.
“No,” he boomed, shoving her roughly back, “you need to learn! I am the only one who has ever cared about you! I gave you everything you wanted, practically crawled over glass to suit your whims, and all the while you snuck around behind my back! Why?!”
“Don’t touch me!” Scorch screamed, unable to think another thought. She reared up on her toes in an attempt to feel less like a cowering child.
“You will never be satisfied!” Razor laughed bitterly. “You’re a leech, Gingersnap, all you do is feed off other people but it will never be enough for you! You will always be empty and miserable and incomplete!” Scorch pressed her ears back against her head to block out the words. He was just trying to get into her head, she couldn’t listen to him.
Razor leaned down and lowered his voice to something pleading and gentle. “Why can’t you just let me love you?” Scorch struck out with her claws and they gouged into the soft flesh of his eye. Razor snarled in pain and recoiled, blinking away the blood now pouring down the right side of his face.
“You little bitch!” he hissed and swiped out with his own claws. Her body moved instinctively, ducking backwards on muscle memory, and the strike grazed her whiskers. Her heart was pounding. Mouth dry, she lunged and swiped at him like Goldenstar had taught her only to be slammed onto her back by Razor’s massive paws.
“You’ll pay for that,” he growled, blood dripping from his face onto hers. She squirmed helplessly. Why had she done this? For months she had avoided this exact course of action knowing it would end in her death but something about these Clan cats had sabotaged the defenses she had been building all her life and introduced a fatal flaw. She wondered if an apology would do anything at this point.
“There!” she heard Russetfrond shout from a distance. Razor turned his head and bared his teeth in a snarl. With a screech, Orangestar leapt onto Razor’s back in a blur of ginger fur, and he stumbled away to try and throw her off. Scorchplume gasped for breath and scrambled to her feet, cheeks drenched in tears.
“Are you alright?” Russetfrond asked, appearing at her side.
“I don’t know,” she swallowed. The deputy looked her up and down and seemed to conclude that she was fine. He turned his attention back to the battle and sprang off to join Orangestar.
Scorchplume crouched down against the earth and fell apart.
#clan gen#clangen#warrior cats#warriors#warrior cats oc#warriors oc#clangen oc#clan gen oc#clangenrising#newleaf#battle with razor#Scorchplume#Oddstripe#Stormwhisper#Sagetooth#Goldenstar#Razor#Orangestar#Russetfrond#tw graphic injury#Sparrowsway
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