A large, moss-covered tree hangs heavily over a small stream, a dark, stopped shadow. It’s leaves blot the sun from what would otherwise be an attractive clearing, instead a dark space, with no plants to carpet the ground. The area is wringed with brambles and the like, and a single, narrow slit leads through them, in the direction of the Windclan border. The roots of the tree are dark and gnarled, clutching onto a large rock which once hung into the water, nor firmly on dry land. The whole area has a feeling of disuse, the type of place things would go away to die, especially as the tree is only a skeleton now, twigs rattling hollowly as it wears its Leafbare garb. Beneath the tree lives Deadmoon.
Contrary to the name, and the general feel of the place, Deadmoon had quite a bit of vim and vigor. No longer young and childlike, but certainly far from aging infirmity. Of course, she had never been particularly childlike, not for long anyway. She’d lost her first friend as a kit, never had many family ties to speak of(ones she got on well with anyway), and had made and lost connections for the rest of her life.
Breezefeather. Killed by Dawnstar.
Marigoldpaw. Disappeared.
Wolfie. Killed by a dog while she was missing.
Rookie. Lost and found and then lost again, through her own stupidity.
It was easier this way, she reckoned. Yes, it hurt not seeing Snowypaw, who was probably a warrior by now if he hadn’t died or gone missing, and Deadmoon missed having the acidic tongue of Rookscreech against which she could test her wit. Yes, she felt guilty for her desertion, her betrayal, for the hurt she had done to others in an attempt to shield herself. But it wasn’t like there was much she could do to change it, at least in her eyes. It had been a miracle Twilightstar had let her return the first time, never mind a second.
And, of course, what if she went back and there was no one there? Rookie and Snowypaw could have easily been lost or killed, and Wolfie was long gone. As much as she cared for Windclan, it had always been the clan within the clan that kept Deadmoon around. The cats that were hers, to protect and to care for and to make far to many mistakes with. She just…..didn’t know any more. What to do. What she should do. What she COULD do.
What she did know was that she was a coward. A failure, in more ways than one. A mentor, a friend, a sister, a clan mate. Not that Rosebriar and Featherwhisker had been right, she would never allow her mental state to deteriorate so far as to consider THAT possibility, but Twilightstar’s leeriness at her return the first time was certainly understandable. She had tried, certainly at first. She had been a decent mentor, Snowypaw was coming out of his shell, and then she screwed it all up. Everything.
She’d been in the Outskirts, not the smartest choice to begin with but she needed to get away sometimes, when she’d heard the dogs. At first she thought little of it, but then the slavering things were upon her and she’d scrambled about halfway up a tree, tearing a claw in the process, when the twolegs showed up. Two of them, one with long fur and the other with none, jabbering excitedly to each other like so many starlings.
Then another twoleg showed up, one with a big, blobby white thing on the end. Quite good for capturing cats, apparently. Which is what the twolegs proceeded to do. Idiots. They loaded her into a monster, along with a couple other cats she had never seen before, and suddenly she was rumbling away from Windclan, bouncing up and down in what she had dubbed the ‘stomach in a stomach’ of hard something in which she and the others were held.
No small amount of being squished to a pulp later, they were loaded out of the monster and into a twoleg den. So much better. Not. The twolegs did not remove her from the hard box unscathed, but their stupid paws were protected by something and there were far more of them than there were cats. Fun. She want quite sure WHAT happened next, all she knew was that something stabbed her in the flank, and then she lost control of her muscles, and then she was asleep.
When she had woken up, still a bit groggy but whatever, a twoleg had been looming ominously over her. When she hissed it backed off though. As it should. Unfortunately, she was still stuck in a hard box, which no amount of clawing would get her out of. And also, kittypet pellets were….SO BAD!! They tasted like grass and random odds and ends all pulled together and then scorched how did anyone eat this stuff??
Deadmoon ate that stuff, with great reluctance, but she wasn’t an idiot. Not eating it wouldn’t do her any good. She felt….different though. She wasn’t sure why, probably the food, but something was definitely off. That wasn’t the primary thing now though. That was getting the HECK OUT OF HERE!!! Which she did eventually manage, though not by any brilliance of her own. Her box was carried out to a waiting monster, and a dark, shaking ride later she was deposited at what appeared to be a much smaller collection of twoleg dens, smelling of large animals and mice.
And then they let her go. Presumably she was supposed to stick around, but Deadmoon wasn’t a stupid kittypet, and even after a long time stuck in a box she was quick, funny leg or not. Away she went, dodging into a corpse of trees nearby and hiding there until the yield of the twolegs faded.
From them on she wandered. Here, there, to and fro, looking for the clans. Not even intentionally, really, some subconscious urge driving her closer and closer to what would turn out to be the border between Riverclan and Windclan, where the river and the cliffs reconciled into a more placid stretch of water, fed by numerous streams. It was along one of these that the willow tree grew. And where Deadmoon stagnated, like the water and everything else in the clearing. Changeless. Unimportant. Invisible.
(She ain't gone yet!)
__________________
All hail the Rat Queen's!!
Shrewstep has Silver Tongue and Mind Reader purrks
Pit has Just a Scratch and Beefed Up Tier 2
Last edited by gs29513; February 28th, 2023 at 12:11 PM.
A large, moss-covered tree hangs heavily over a small stream, a dark, stopped shadow. It’s leaves blot the sun from what would otherwise be an attractive clearing, instead a dark space, with no plants to carpet the ground. The area is wringed with brambles and the like, and a single, narrow slit leads through them, in the direction of the Windclan border. The roots of the tree are dark and gnarled, clutching onto a large rock which once hung into the water, nor firmly on dry land. The whole area has a feeling of disuse, the type of place things would go away to die, especially as the tree is only a skeleton now, twigs rattling hollowly as it wears its Leafbare garb. Beneath the tree lives Deadmoon.
Contrary to the name, and the general feel of the place, Deadmoon had quite a bit of vim and vigor. No longer young and childlike, but certainly far from aging infirmity. Of course, she had never been particularly childlike, not for long anyway. She’d lost her first friend as a kit, never had many family ties to speak of(ones she got on well with anyway), and had made and lost connections for the rest of her life.
Breezefeather. Killed by Dawnstar.
Marigoldpaw. Disappeared.
Wolfie. Killed by a dog while she was missing.
Rookie. Lost and found and then lost again, through her own stupidity.
It was easier this way, she reckoned. Yes, it hurt not seeing Snowypaw, who was probably a warrior by now if he hadn’t died or gone missing, and Deadmoon missed having the acidic tongue of Rookscreech against which she could test her wit. Yes, she felt guilty for her desertion, her betrayal, for the hurt she had done to others in an attempt to shield herself. But it wasn’t like there was much she could do to change it, at least in her eyes. It had been a miracle Twilightstar had let her return the first time, never mind a second.
And, of course, what if she went back and there was no one there? Rookie and Snowypaw could have easily been lost or killed, and Wolfie was long gone. As much as she cared for Windclan, it had always been the clan within the clan that kept Deadmoon around. The cats that were hers, to protect and to care for and to make far to many mistakes with. She just…..didn’t know any more. What to do. What she should do. What she COULD do.
What she did know was that she was a coward. A failure, in more ways than one. A mentor, a friend, a sister, a clan mate. Not that Rosebriar and Featherwhisker had been right, she would never allow her mental state to deteriorate so far as to consider THAT possibility, but Twilightstar’s leeriness at her return the first time was certainly understandable. She had tried, certainly at first. She had been a decent mentor, Snowypaw was coming out of his shell, and then she screwed it all up. Everything.
She’d been in the Outskirts, not the smartest choice to begin with but she needed to get away sometimes, when she’d heard the dogs. At first she thought little of it, but then the slavering things were upon her and she’d scrambled about halfway up a tree, tearing a claw in the process, when the twolegs showed up. Two of them, one with long fur and the other with none, jabbering excitedly to each other like so many starlings.
Then another twoleg showed up, one with a big, blobby white thing on the end. Quite good for capturing cats, apparently. Which is what the twolegs proceeded to do. Idiots. They loaded her into a monster, along with a couple other cats she had never seen before, and suddenly she was rumbling away from Windclan, bouncing up and down in what she had dubbed the ‘stomach in a stomach’ of hard something in which she and the others were held.
No small amount of being squished to a pulp later, they were loaded out of the monster and into a twoleg den. So much better. Not. The twolegs did not remove her from the hard box unscathed, but their stupid paws were protected by something and there were far more of them than there were cats. Fun. She want quite sure WHAT happened next, all she knew was that something stabbed her in the flank, and then she lost control of her muscles, and then she was asleep.
When she had woken up, still a bit groggy but whatever, a twoleg had been looming ominously over her. When she hissed it backed off though. As it should. Unfortunately, she was still stuck in a hard box, which no amount of clawing would get her out of. And also, kittypet pellets were….SO BAD!! They tasted like grass and random odds and ends all pulled together and then scorched how did anyone eat this stuff??
Deadmoon ate that stuff, with great reluctance, but she wasn’t an idiot. Not eating it wouldn’t do her any good. She felt….different though. She wasn’t sure why, probably the food, but something was definitely off. That wasn’t the primary thing now though. That was getting the HECK OUT OF HERE!!! Which she did eventually manage, though not by any brilliance of her own. Her box was carried out to a waiting monster, and a dark, shaking ride later she was deposited at what appeared to be a much smaller collection of twoleg dens, smelling of large animals and mice.
And then they let her go. Presumably she was supposed to stick around, but Deadmoon wasn’t a stupid kittypet, and even after a long time stuck in a box she was quick, funny leg or not. Away she went, dodging into a corpse of trees nearby and hiding there until the yield of the twolegs faded.
From them on she wandered. Here, there, to and fro, looking for the clans. Not even intentionally, really, some subconscious urge driving her closer and closer to what would turn out to be the border between Riverclan and Windclan, where the river and the cliffs reconciled into a more placid stretch of water, fed by numerous streams. It was along one of these that the willow tree grew. And where Deadmoon stagnated, like the water and everything else in the clearing. Changeless. Unimportant. Invisible.
(She ain't gone yet!)
Crestfallen - Non-binary(AFAB) - They/them - A black, fluffy maine coon with icy blue eyes and a scar down their flank - Former of Shadowclan
Crestfallen wanders the area, knowing that they are really close to the border but chooses to continue going. They kinda miss their friends from Shadowclan, but they know its for the best. Everyone hated them, so they left... Not before getting a nasty scar though. Crestfallen sighs and looks around before looking at the sky sadly. Whats that smell? They think, scenting a different cat who smells kinda like twolegs... Huh. Where is this cat at though? They think, looking around.
__________________ "Your age dont define your maturity, your grades dont define your intelligence, and rumors dont define who you are"
"Mirror is my best friend because when I cry, it never laughs"
Bump me in 4 hours
@StormySong
Humph. There appeared to be.......someone....entering into her little clearing. Or at least, approaching the area at a rapid pace. Using one the few useful things to come from her self-imposed exile, a burgeoning ability to climb, Deadmoon scaled the willow tree and concealed herself among the many branches. Once she felt she was sufficiently camouflaged, she projected her voice in a manner sufficient to reach whoever was sulking about. I don't know who you are, but you shouldn't be here! she yowled, before shrinking back further into her cover. She didn't particularly want a fight, but she also did not want her 'sanctuary' disturbed.
__________________
All hail the Rat Queen's!!
Shrewstep has Silver Tongue and Mind Reader purrks
Pit has Just a Scratch and Beefed Up Tier 2
@StormySong
Humph. There appeared to be.......someone....entering into her little clearing. Or at least, approaching the area at a rapid pace. Using one the few useful things to come from her self-imposed exile, a burgeoning ability to climb, Deadmoon scaled the willow tree and concealed herself among the many branches. Once she felt she was sufficiently camouflaged, she projected her voice in a manner sufficient to reach whoever was sulking about. I don't know who you are, but you shouldn't be here! she yowled, before shrinking back further into her cover. She didn't particularly want a fight, but she also did not want her 'sanctuary' disturbed.
Crestfallen pauses, crouching down and looking around before looking at the willow tree. Their black fur ripples as she hides in the shadows, going around the other side of the tree and looking up at Deadmoon. "And why is that?" They ask loud enough for her to know that they were now somehow behind the tree.
__________________ "Your age dont define your maturity, your grades dont define your intelligence, and rumors dont define who you are"
"Mirror is my best friend because when I cry, it never laughs"
Bump me in 4 hours
A Willow Tree(OPEN FOR NOW)
