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andywalchsworld · 12 days

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Brennendes Herz

#lightpainting #brennendesherz #butangasschaum #heartinflame #playwiththefire #longtimeexposure #langzeitbelichtung #nightphotography #canon_photos #canonphotography

#light painting #longtimeexposure #langzeitbelichtung #brennendes herz #burning heart #canon photography #photographers on tumblr #photography #awphotographyart

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redux-iterum · 1 year

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Burning Hearts: Prologue

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“There. They’ve come again.”

Several pairs of large eyes, glowing from the moonlight’s reflection, peered through the coarse marsh-grass at a gaggle of unfortunately familiar faces—rogues from the Aulmir, the human’s hive of cement and metal—all sniffing around the border of the territory, like dogs searching for scraps. The individuals of this gang were larger than ShadowClan’s warriors, and had fought for those scraps before in the Aulmir, but they’d had no training. Blackstar, at the head of the patrol, had seen these cats in a battle. ShadowClan could take them easily.

Not that he wanted them to, at this particular moment, but they could.

Toadbelly, a brown tortoiseshell, slightly lifted out of her crouch and looked at Blackstar. “Your orders, sir?”

Blackstar didn’t respond for a long moment, his amber eyes narrowed and dark jaw clenched as he thought. The rest of the patrol waited in perfect silence, though the intense stares at their leader weren’t much better than a barrage of hushed questions. Blackstar stood slowly and flicked his tail over his back before moving forward. He didn’t bother sneaking; there was no need to be subtle with half-strangers on his own territory. The large patrol followed him, weaving through the grass with serpentine grace.

He recognized the foremost rogue immediately by his dark ginger fur and the long streak of bare skin on his back. The tom, Brick, was the first to look up, and the only one not to take a step or two back as ShadowClan’s cats emerged. Even with his air of ease and confidence, Blackstar didn’t miss the tension in the rogue’s eyes.

“I assume you have a good excuse to be here.” Blackstar’s voice was a careful balance of casual and vaguely threatening.

The heavily-scarred molly at Brick’s flank hissed and bristled at the spine.

Brick’s half-lidded eyes flickered up and down, scanning the short black tom. “Good to see you, Blackfoot.”

“Blackstar,” he replied coolly.

“Right, you folks do that name-change thing.” Brick took in a breath and puffed it out, head backing a little to set further on his shoulders, like he couldn’t be bothered to keep it high on his own. “Well, Blackstar, we’ve just come along for a meal or two. Rather hungry; I’m sure you can relate.”

“You come to the worst place for meals,” Toadbelly said. “Do you think we visit the Aulmir for nothing?”

Blackstar tilted his raised tail her way and she shut her mouth.

“Funny you mention that—” Brick creased his eyes in false friendliness. “You lot’ve been gone for quite a while. Since that attack in the night, I believe.”

Blackstar lifted his chin. Polite negotiations, he’d never been good at, but he needed to be now. “We left you the run of the Aulmir to make up for our former leader’s inactions. Our visits are only to the grounds two buildings away from our border.”

Brick hummed in thoughtful surprise. The cats around him squinted warily at the warriors.

“I know he promised you payment,” Blackstar went on. “It was a false promise. This is the best we can do without starving ourselves to death.”

“You ought to pay regardless!” the scarred molly snapped, her single eye glaring. “We were offered prey, twig, and—”

Blackstar slowly turned his head her way and spoke quietly and evenly. “I would recall that Aulmir cats were given the run of our territory and our camp. Anything we caught, you were allowed to devour without needing to hunt yourselves. Anyone who spoke against you, you were allowed to threaten until they were quiet.” He narrowed his eyes. “And some went beyond threatening.”

The molly bared her teeth, but Brick tapped her with his tail and she went silent.

“For the record, I didn’t agree with a lot of what that sweet-talking git was up to,” Brick said. “But you know what we’ll do for food and security.”

Blackstar nodded once, curt.

There was a moment of silence, the tense air thick enough to be bitten. Then Brick sighed again and looked at his fellow rogues. “Come on, then. The chicken restaurant should be dumping food soon.”

A pale blue-grey molly stared at him. “You’re not even going to—?“

“No,” Brick said, “I’m not. We don’t need to get scarred up for frogs. Let’s go.”

He didn’t give anyone a chance to retort before he had turned away from the marshes and started off, back to the looming structures of the Aulmir. The loose group of rogues spared a cautious look at the ShadowClan cats, as if expecting a fight anyway, before trotting after him.

Blackstar held his breath until the last of them disappeared into the shadows of the nearest building, and then he let it out as quietly as he could. His tail and neck relaxed and shed their bravado.

His dark ginger deputy was the first to speak. “Blessed us. That went much better than I would have expected.”

The patrol murmured their agreements, the tension in the air dissipating with their collective sighs of relief.

Blackstar said nothing. His eyes stayed on the Aulmir. The conversations around him faded out of his ears as he thought about all the food ShadowClan was giving up for the sake of peace.

They’d have to go back at some point. It was just a question of good manners and tactful negotiation.

Stars help him with that.

--

Across the territories, RiverClan’s camp sat in silence. Warriors exchanged looks of worry—something completely foreign on their round, pleasant faces—and a reddish-brown tom, the deputy Oakclaw, was murmuring into the nursery’s entrance.

“Come along,” he was saying softly. “Best to get it done now.”

There was a heavy, shaking sigh, and the Clan’s heads lowered unhappily as a dark blue-grey queen emerged with an older kit in her jaws, dragging his hind legs along the ground. Oakclaw backed away and let her step fully into the open air, sitting almost as soon as she left the nursery. The united worry turned to compassionate mourning, and each warrior tried to think of something comforting to say to her.

Oakclaw scanned the gathered cats and flicked an ear: keep quiet and let her grieve. He sat down by her as she set the kit down on the ground. The black kitten didn’t move or breathe; even from a distance, one could sense the warmth leaving the young body in the chilling air of autumn.

“I don’t know what to do,” the queen said finally, staring down at her son.

Oakclaw very gently patted her tail with his and looked back into the nursery. “Duckflower?”

The brown-and-white matriarch pulled herself through the entrance and joined them, sitting on the queen’s other side. She started to groom her neck and cheek, purring forcefully and loud.

“Leave—” The dark queen jerked away, and quieter, “Leave me be.”

Duckflower blinked in surprise and tried words instead. “I can take him, if you want. You don’t have to—”

“No, I… no.” The queen shook her head. “No.”

“Mistfoot, it’s perfectly fine. You can say goodbye here and leave it to me.”

“No.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Mistfoot clicked her jaw tight. “I don’t know.”

Duckflower opened her mouth and Oakclaw dared a clearing of his throat. She peered at him over Mistfoot’s head and he gave her a carefully-crafted look, between a suggestion and an order for silence. She closed her mouth and tilted her head, questioning.

Oakclaw didn’t try an offer. Instead, he lowered his head until he could catch Mistfoot’s eyes. Her gaze rested on his face, now a dull amber of weary and understanding.

“Come with me,” he said. “Bid him farewell at the river.”

The command, gentle as the tone was, seemed to do the trick. Mistfoot shut her eyes, sighed through her nose, and stood up. Her nose pressed on the kit’s side for a moment, then she picked the body back up and looked to the deputy. He turned and led the way out of the little circle of trees and bushes that made up the camp, still authoritative but staying close to Mistfoot and keeping his head turned her way.

“It’s a sad day when the deputy’s handling kit business better than the matriarch,” commented a grey-and-white molly to her golden-calico neighbor.

The calico narrowed her eyes. “He shouldn’t be handling kits at all.”

“Him, no, probably not.” The grey-and-white molly glanced the way the deputy and queen had gone. “But at least he got the job done.”

The calico grunted.

“Leave that business be,” Duckflower said to the pair. “Let’s just pray for StarClan to find little Slugkit and guide him home quickly.”

In a wave rippling out from the matriarch, the cats bowed their heads and murmured goodbyes and well-wishes, all too indistinct for anyone to make out a specific sentence.

Still, the grey-and-white molly thought to herself as she shut her eyes, I suppose he’d like to be able to say goodbye to any kit, wouldn’t he? I can’t blame him. I know I’d like to make up for before.

Take the chance where I have it, and all that.

#warrior cats #warriors redux iterum #iterum #prologue #book two #arc one #burning heart #chapter

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fadedfuneral · 5 months

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