Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 39 moons Beefed Up T2 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue The Dancing Bird
A groan escaped his pursed lips. He’d encouraged the little runt, oh Starclan why did none of his intimidation attempts ever work on the younger cats. Owlthroat almost dropped his head into his paws in a show of pathetic desperation but stopped himself. Recalling back to the time he’d scared off a particularly brazen Thunderclan apprentice at the gathering last moon.
If he couldn’t terrify this bundle of fluff by his own presence it was about time for a good old fashioned ghost story. His face spontaneously softened, quite unnerving how it went from that cold glare to something warm and inviting for the young kit.
”I’m Owlthroat, one of Shadowclan’s strongest warriors of course.” His ego wouldn’t let him not throw that last bit in, the only thing he was good at of course. Claws flying on the battlefield was his zone, anything else he ended up like a big clumbering rabbit. He had enough on his plate with a beebrained apprentice and his moody ruminations. Conquer the forest or something like that.
He leaned his wide face down once more to Palekit’s level, pulling himself deeper and deeper into his mask. ”You wanna hear a story?” He rasped, it was convincing enough, lying through his teeth came too naturally. But Owlthroat preferred the term, spinning words. It was an art form in itself, crafting something from tidbits of the truth and using it to make something entirely new.
The tom wasn’t always this way, as a young cat he was much more open in nature. Friendly, wide-eyed, ready to take on the world. But so much had happened since then. Deep down he missed that young tom and secretly the cat he could have become if it wasn’t for a life of bloodshed. Infecting him from the very core. So set in his ways change was just about impossible.
Some days he dreamt sweetly of walking away from it all.
[ @goodacacia ]
[ This is gonna drive Owl bonkers in the best way possible c: ]
| Silverlark | 20 Moons - StarClan Warrior
Shadow Fiend - Inactive | Just a Scratch - Active | Beefed Up [Tier 3] - Inactive | Spirit Encounter [2] - Active
Mousepaw! Get up, darling. Please, please, please get up.
Dark. Everything was so dark. How long had he been asleep? It felt like far too long. He'd begun shortly after his thoughts stopped making sense. He'd never been the brightest, he knew that. But everything had become so... jumbled up. So nonsensical. He'd stayed hidden because he didn't want his friends to find him, even though he had wanted to do nothing more than howl at how lonely he was. How lonely he still felt. And yet... that voice. Mousepaw? He hadn't been a paw named Mouse in a very long time. In fact, he'd carried the moniker of Silver for longer than he'd carried the one of Mouse. Or had it been the same amount of time? He didn't know anymore. Time had stopped making sense to him in his sleep. But he'd recognize that sorrowful voice anywhere.
"Auntie... Larky?"
Verdant eyes opened, the dimness of the den proving to be far too luminous. His eyes had been closed for so long, it seemed any light was too bright. It took him some time to get used to it. To blink away the spots that made his vision swim. Once he had grown accustomed to the light, the gray pelt of the cat that had once been so close to him became familiar to him alongside her obvious distress. Instantly concerned for the she-cat, the tom stood up, rushing towards her, raising up on two paws so he could reach her face. A moot point, the little tom far too small to reach regardless, pudgy legs losing balance as he fell on his tail.
An angry scowl marred his face, whiskers trembling with frustration as he turned to look at his hindquarters accusingly. You'd think after resting for stars knew for how long they would be ready for a walk! But to think that they wouldn't even let him raise enough to touch noses with... Wait... When had Lostspark gotten so big? He'd gotten larger than her some moons ago, hadn't he? And why was his pelt so shiny? Oh oh! Auntie Larky must have cleaned it super nice, mmhmmm. Probably when she brought along that big gray tom that was sleeping in his nest with- Excuse... Was that Crusher?! Nu uh. Crusher was his friend, not this ugly, scarred tom's! Stinky, too! Looked just like Elmshadow, hmph hmp-
Oh...
It made sense now. Why Auntie Larky was so down. Why his pelt was so shiny and filled with stars. Gingerly, he gazed down at one of his paws, taking note of the soft, untested paw pads. The folds of skin as if his body was preparing for a growth spurt. His voice had certainly seemed squeakier than he remembered it, come to think of it... He didn't understand. Why he looked so young. Why he had reverted back to a Mousekit. No... not a Mousekit. He was still Silverlark. His mind hadn't gone back to match his body. And yet... it felt... right. It felt like home. Like the happiness he hadn't felt since his Hazely had gone.
Gingerly, he looked up at Lostspark yet again, wondering if her sightless eyes could see him. He'd never really felt unseen by her. Not in the literal sense of the word, in any case. But then... he was never the brightest. Maybe he just couldn't tell the difference. Unsure if it would work, the stocky, kit sized warrior took his paw and attempted to place it over his Auntie's in a comforting fashion. He knew she hadn't had time for him after she became a medicine cat. After she'd had so many kits. How could there be time for a cat like him? She'd taken pity on him and tolerated him best she could when she'd had the time. For that, he'd always be grateful. And he hoped she knew it. If he had a single regret, it was never having told her thank you for being there for him for the time she was. He still carried her name with pride, even if she'd lost her own.
"Yous know, Auntie Larky... When mum died. And when Hazely died. And then Rising... and Starrywrenny... and Stinkyshadow... They all died and I wasn't there for them. I left them all alone. And I was scared, yous know... 'Cause I thought... I thought I was going to go all alone too. I forgots though. Forgots my Auntie was the best thought hearer in ShadowClan and she would hear me again when I needed her most," he chirped happily, an adoring smile lighting up his face as he felt his own eyes moisten, the sad look on the molly's face infectious even as he tried cheering her up.
He was dead. He knew this now. But he didn't want to make anyone cry. It was okay. It was alright. He'd be alright! He was going to go meet with his Hazely and his Rising and his Starrywrenny and his mum now! Rounded ears perked up at this thought, and he didn't know if it was his imagination, but he was sure he could hear one of them calling his name. Wanting for him to join in on some game. He'd meet up with them soon. Just as soon as he said goodbye. He never got a goodbye from his family. And that broke his heart. Maybe if he got to say goodbye now, Auntie Larky wouldn't cry no more.
"I think I have to go to new home now. But but... It's been fun here. It's been fun. It wouldn't have been old home without yous. I know it's a lot but... Can I ask a favors of yous? Can you tell the others I said bye? Please? Oh! And Flashies. She's a good paw. She's a little shy, but super smart smart. Smarterer than me, heh heh. Can yous... Can you also tell her I'm proud?"
Even as he spoke, he could feel it. His grasp in this world was slipping. It was time to go to the stars. Back to his family, where he belonged. Where he would belong outside of his friend's dreams. Until they went up and joined him up there as well... Hopefully not in a long time. He would miss them, yes yes. But... he wanted them to live a good, happy, long life. A purr rumbling in his chest, he tried standing on his hind legs again, this time with more grace, knowing his body was not what he was used to anymore. Slowly, Silverlark made to give the gray enforcer a tiny lick on her nose. His body almost gone at this point, she would probably be unable to feel it... but it was the thought that counted, right?
No. This wasn't. Wasn't. How was this fair. HOW?! Supposedly sightless eyes were stuck on Silverlark's dead body. His. Dead. Body. She'd never thought... oh, she was a fool. An idiot for thinking that she could ever outlive her failures. Yet they chased her, time and time again. They hunted her down, made her pay for her mistakes.
'Auntie... Larky?'
She could have sworn her heart stopped at the small voice. The... wrong voice. For a moment, she was unable to comprehend what was happening, a seed of doubt and hope burrowing into her. Had she mistaken Silverlark for dead? Was he actually alive? Just had been sleeping? Had he- Imagine the shock she got when a small figure zipped out of Silverlark's dead body, rushing straight for her. A kit?! What was a kit doing in here- No.
Not a kit. Oh no. She had called him Mousepaw, she had... had she done this-? Had she made him turn back in time, forever stuck in his kit form even as a StarClanner? Her face paled with terror, her fear so much so that she was unable to react when the small-Silverlark reached up for her.
Lostspark stared down at him, remorse shining in her eyes. She wanted to crumple, wanted to wail to the world about how unfair it was. She didn't want to hurt anymore. She didn't want to live with this hurt anymore, and nothing ever made it go away. Her heart only was burdened further.
Her face tilted down towards him, a shaking limb snaking out in an attempt to cuddle the much smaller-than-life but larger-than-life kit at the same time to her chest. She listened to him, and then she could no longer sit in silence when he said he had to head off to his new home, could no longer keep up her brave facade. Her thread, snapped. Her walls, demolished.
Her eyes threatened to well over with tears. "I'll tell Flash..ies. I'll tell her you're proud of her. ...And you. I'm so proud of you, darling." Her voice was a hoarse rasp, pain blunting the edges. Not physical pain, but an emotional ache so deep she could barely scrape the words out of her voicebox. "So, so, proud. I'm so sorry for not telling you before. I'm so sorry for being a horrible mother." The term had slipped out on it's own, but now she couldn't- didn't want to retract it.
Her limbs wanted to tighten around the ever-fading cat in her arms. Her mind whispering that if only she could hold on, he would stay. He wouldn't leave her, wouldn't be made to turn away because of her own decisions. "Silverlark-" Her name. He bore it with pride. She wanted her name back, if only to carry it in his rememberance, but she never would get it back. But who had said she couldn't be Lark anymore? His aunt, his adoptive mother, she would fill any role he asked of her. "I love you more." Her voice broke at the end, catering off. A small, nearly nonexistant whimper crawled out of her throat as Silverlark disappeared, leaving another hollow space in her chest.
Leaving her behind with a corpse. She didn't want to be the one to bury him. WHY did it have to be her? Was fate truly so cruel, that she had to be the one who scooped dirt onto his lifeless body? But Silverlark had died no normal death in his sleep, he had died of something she could not yet name. She would never risk her Clan over her own grief. The Clan always came first, even before herself. Silverlark was lifted, taken away, and buried in Moonlit Grove while she was in a trance-like state, going through the motions, forcing herself not to think. His nest was disposed of properly, so whatever sickness he'd gotten was not spread.
And when Lostspark had returned to camp, when she had informed her mother of ShadowClan's loss, when she was swaying with hunger and exhaustion and exertion, the lithe grey enforcer took one look up at her usual perch on the tree in the clearing, and decided... it was far too daunting in her current state. She was more likely to fall off while climbing the tree.
Her pawsteps carried her into the warrior's den - she just wanted somewhere to collapse, somewhere to fall asleep and succumb to the hauntings of her sleep instead of stay awake a moment longer with the throbbing in her heart - and of their own accord she was led into a familiar-smelling nest that brought her too much comfort to dwell on. It was empty, and Lostspark was tired, and so she wordlessly curled up in a corner of the large nest.
Palekit's eyes glitter excitedly as he repeated Owlthroat's words, "Owlthroat! That's so cool!" Palekit felt like jumping around, but something tells him that he should just sit down. Afterall, Palekit was already happy with his seating. Wouldn't want another kit taking his spot right there. "Woahh... One of ShadowClan's strongest!"
Palekit felt the privilege to be able to sit by the warriors den, even more, talking to one of the strongest warrior. It was his first time on this side of the clearing. Never did he had the chance to poke his head within tail lengths of the warrior's den. On the whim, Palekit had decided that he would work hard and become a great warrior that ShadowClan could depend on. 'That is, after I become an apprentice...and made into a warrior ... and work hard...' Too much thought, Palekit settles on just listening to one of the greatest instead.
The sudden warm look from Owlthroat made Palekit feel uneasy from the sudden change, but it was quickly ignore due to Palekit's new thoughts. 'A story... what story? Maybe one of his battles? Either the answer is...' "Yes!" Palekit stares at Owlthroat intently waiting for the large tom to start. Meanwhile, he tucked his little paws in and shift his body, squirming until he got comfortable. There sat a little bundle, sparkling, awaiting for the story to come.
Owlthroat
he/him | Shadowclan Warrior | 39 moons Beefed Up T2 - Just A Scratch - Silver Tongue The Dancing Bird
Owlthroat watched Palekit get comfy and he struggled to hold in the laughter, this would certainly be entertaining. Sending the kit running back to the nursery squealing with his tail between his legs. The tom collected his thoughts for a moment for speaking, mind whirling as he put his idea together on the fly.
”So you mustn't tell anyone this, but what I said before about kits going missing…” Trailing off in a low rumble, adding hesitation to the image before speaking again. ”Well, there’s a cannibal on the loose. A cat which eats other cats, there’s been a couple kittens missing you see.” His face saddened, matching his words.
”But at night I’ve seen a shadowy figure, roaming around camp, particularly around the nursery.” Owlthroat’s clumbering paws shuffled underneath his huge frame as he meowed. ”One night I even heard the shadow whispering. Saying that he likes them best as the flesh is the most tender, something else too about a whitish calico kitten being next. I’m not sure about that, I don’t think we have anyone who matches that description.” He shrugged, pretending not to see little Palekit beside him.
The story wasn’t entirely untrue, they had a cannibal in the clan. Nothing as of late mind you, it was easy to assume it was Lionflop who had since been killed by Dawnstar.
”But who knows, I wouldn’t be worried. I could just be seeing things these days.” He looked down at Palekit once again, internally chuckling. Awaiting the kit’s response. Praying he was young and gullible enough to take the bait, give the poor sod nightmares for days. But it was character building, and if it kept the runts away from him then so be it.
Owlthroat's sudden drop in tone made Palekit felt nervous. He hadn't felt this way, since...since...his mother? No, he couldn't remember any of that. The entire memory of his earlier years were shrouded in a darkness that inches closer to him if he tried to remember. This was that sort of feeling. Palekit manages to shake it off enough to hear the start of the story.
'Kits going missing?' Palekit's ear twitched, listening intently. Awaiting every second for Owlthroat to complete his tale. The sudden pause gave Palekit a moment to think. A little too much time. 'Go missing? Badgers? Foxes? Other Clans?'
Palekit felt a little nervous, squirming in his seat as he awaited the next line that would come out of the large tom's mouth.
"Cannibal!?" Palekit stammered with his fur standing on the end, "No way...! Why would they do that?"
Palekit couldn't believe what he was hearing. He listened to Owlthroat's voice. It didn't sound like lies... so it must have been real. Was there really something...no...some kit-eating cat lurking around by the nursery? 'Nursery...White...calico...kit? Isn't that me!?' Palekit panics in his thoughts. His eyes were wide with fright, staring at Owlthroat for the confirmation he needed that it was all a joke, only for Owlthroat to not see him. 'Was he looking at something?'
Palekit jumps up in spin, fur bristled and looking in all direction. He scanned the clearing for this monster Owlthroat spoke of. Nothing in sight, but there was still fear within him. 'What if it comes out at night? What if everyone is sleeping then? What if I disappear and no one knows.'
Almost wanting cry out of fear, Palekit stammers, "uH-issok, D-dawnstar wouldn't allow t-that to happen! Nightshiver will protect us!"
Palekit is caught in the distance between wanting to run, but is scared stiff. If he returns to the nursery...wouldn't the cannibal find him?
[ @Daragca this kid ain't sleeping in the nursery ever again ]
She/her - 7 moons
Lean, brown molly with dark orange spots, lighter belly, and green eyes
Dreamwalker
Someone had motioned towards the dens and said that 'that one' was the apprentice-den, but (to Adderpaw's mild frustration) disappeared before she could ask for clarification whether it was the one hidden under a stump or a trunk (these cats really had a theme with the dens, huh). She chose to start by checking on a flower-covered burrow but ruled that it could not be the apprentice-den on account of the scent of milk, and she was also pretty sure she heard the squeak of a kitten in there. Must be some sort of nursery, so she moved on to peeking in under the log.
She spotted a few cats resting, but all of them seemed to be at least a year and a half old. The warrior-den, presumably, and Adderpaw was about to pull back and go to the third nest when a scent travelled towards her. The whole camp carried the smell she had come to associate with Shadowclan... but her green eyes landed on a cat who didn't smell like it almost at all. "You smell like the outskirts?" @ophelia
Re: ShadowClan Warriors' Den
