(WARNING!!! This solo post contains themes of ableism and self-harm.)
~ ROSEBRIAR OF THE DARK FOREST ~
Small, slender, dark red-orange she-cat with glossy fur, a fluffy white chest, a cream-colored stripe running down her back and up her tail, and a single leaf-green eye.
Reference image can be found here.
It was so
cold here. So
bleak.
Rosebriar hated it.
No matter where she went, her paws always sank into thick, slimy muck that coated them like blood. Her red-orange fur turned black with it, dripping relentlessly as the mud followed her everywhere she went. With her StarClan-cursed limp, her leg dragged in it, bouncing repeatedly against the ground and covering her in stains. Then there was the fog. It was thicker than one would imagine, wreathing around Rosebriar and smothering her like a badger's paw. Sometimes, she couldn't breathe. But its worst offense was the way it sank into her short yet thick pelt. She felt greasy, moist, every time its hazy claws brushed against her. It was so cold, too. Shivers coursed down Rosebriar's spine whenever the smog decided to pay her a visit.
She cleaned her pelt regularly, so often that it shone with sleekness, and the stars dancing within it seemed all the brighter. But the instant Rosebriar stood up and began slinking between the tall, slick trees that filled this place, she was covered again, her stars smothered.
So much of her life had been smothered.
Once upon a time, Rosebriar had been a loyal warrior of WindClan with the best life anyone could imagine. She had a loving mother, Featherwhisker, and a powerful littermate, Wolffang. She and her family had been closer than anyone could imagine. However, there had been a poison in her Clan that needed to be wiped out. Multiple poisons. Certain cats had been born cursed, ugly,
deformed. One of them had been Twistedface. A shudder of revulsion ran through Rosebriar whenever she thought of that hideous creature. There had also been cats of impure blood with either a parent from outside WindClan or a heritage that couldn't be traced back to WindClan at all. Twistedface had also fallen under this category, her father being a rogue.
Rosebriar had stepped forward and taken responsibility for the sake of her beloved Clan. She had tormented Twistedface and her half-siblings, who had emerged into the world distorted and horrendous, along with anyone she thought deserved punishment. Featherwhisker and Wolffang had stood by her side. Encouraged it. However, for some unfathomable reason, WindClan hadn't seen eye-to-eye with Rosebriar and her family. Twilightstar had warned her to stop tormenting Twistedface - or
Ashfeather, as the leader called her. Rosebriar had been frustrated, of course - who wouldn't be? - so she'd found a way to consider her torments behind Twilightstar's back.
Then, one day, Featherwhisker disappeared. Rosebriar had felt like her heart had been torn out of her chest. Her beloved mother,
gone. Just like that. She and Wolffang had mourned, but they'd known they had to keep on going. They had to make WindClan love them.
And they succeeded, for Twilightstar made Wolffang her deputy. Rosebriar had been so proud of her brother. Now she felt a twinge of anger and disgust at the memory. That was where everything had gone wrong.
Wolffang had needed to pretend to like disfigured and unpure cats so the Clan would respect him. Rosebriar hadn't envied him, but she'd been so excited. One day, Wolffang would be leader, and WindClan would be perfect! No more
disabled cats. No more
mixed or foreign blood. Everything would be as it should be. WindClan would be the purest, strongest, most respected Clan out of the four.
Then dogs had attacked the camp, led there by the careless warrior Rabbitrunner. Half of Rosebriar's face had been brutally torn off by the jaws of one, and her leg had been snapped by the other, permanently marring her. She'd hated disabled cats, but she had become one. Rosebriar spent many days wallowing in pain and self-hatred. She should've killed herself, but she was too cowardly to do so. She valued her life too much, wasted as it was. A warrior, Stonemask, had tried to comfort her, saying that looks didn't matter. And Rosebriar had almost believed him. Her stomach twisted with revulsion at the thought.
Stonemask's false ideals hadn't been enough to keep her in WindClan. With a brother who ignored her, no mother to caress her, and the realization that her Clan had hated her and her views all along, Rosebriar had felt it was best to leave. She'd made a den on the outskirts of WindClan territory, not far from the ShadowClan border. A dire mistake. One careless venture had sent her to the paws of a cruel tortoiseshell who smelled like a rogue but was somehow within ShadowClan's borders. Rosebriar's chest had been sliced, the fluffy white fur covering it turning a similar shade as the rest of her pelt as blood pooled. Then the world had faded away, and she'd woken not here, but in StarClan.
Everything was supposed to be perfect there. But it wasn't.
Two glowing cats, Yellowpaw and Scorchstrike, had told Rosebriar that her disfigurements wouldn't heal like they were supposed to. Instead, she was to keep them as a reminder of the pain she'd caused others. Rosebriar had been furious and understandably so. But what could she do? Nothing. So, she'd skulked in StarClan, enjoying the sunshine and feasting on fresh-kill. Life lost its meaning. She tried to forget about her looks and the terrible life she'd left behind.
Then Wolffang had appeared in star-covered glory, and Rosebriar had been so excited to see him, even though he'd accidentally wandered into the Dark Forest. She'd greeted him, learning that he'd been tragically ripped apart by a pack of dogs. After that, she'd seen another familiar face: Featherwhisker, her lovely mother, banished to the Dark Forest like a rat. Rosebriar had been outraged. How
dare StarClan send Featherwhisker there? Featherwhisker had done nothing but aid WindClan, but because her views were a bit different, and she'd enacted justice far more outwardly than Rosebriar had, she'd been given a dark, dreadful existence.
Not only that, but Wolffang had agreed with StarClan. He'd explained that disabled cats and cats of impure blood were just those - cats. What they looked like or what ran through their veins didn't matter. Their actions did. Rosebriar thought that was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. It was the most heartbreaking, too. In pretending to change his views, Wolffang had actually changed. And he'd
disowned his own sister and mother like they meant nothing to him. The shock and pain Rosebriar had felt had been replaced by a burning rage, only quenched with astonishment as Wolffang disappeared from her eyes. She'd later learned that he'd been sent back to WindClan to live a new life.
It hadn't been
fair. Nothing had. Rosebriar had given her all to her Clan, and she was repaid with disabilities, disownment, and scorn. So, she'd turned her back on the stars for good, going to live with her mother in the Dark Forest. Rosebriar deserved it, after all. She was hideous. Ugly. Not graceful or able-bodied anymore. But she didn't want to stay in StarClan. In fact, she wanted nothing to do with her traitorous ancestors or the Clans who lingered below.
The Dark Forest also gave Rosebriar a chance to shine. Literally. With stars in her pelt and a lovely figure despite her scars, Rosebriar was the most beautiful thing in this wretched place. She kept herself looking as good as possible, holding her head high, puffing out her chest. She deserved this place due to what the dogs had done... but she craved to be on top. To be beautiful. And the Dark Forest was the only place she could rise above her peers.
Often, Rosebriar wished she could leave. The mud, the fog... It was dreadful. Her stomach growled, and she wished a mouse or even a frog would hop over the border. Maybe a bird would flutter her way. However, all the bounty remained in StarClan, and Rosebriar was never going back there. Never going back to the ancestors she had once worshipped, never looking upon the Clans who had broken and betrayed her.
This place was her home now. Rosebriar would remain here forever, no matter how much she longed to get out.
She was a beauty and a disgrace.
She belonged here.
Tulips May Not Flourish in the Dark, but Roses Sure Do [Solo Post]
