rookfire cringed, face only slightly scrunching up in discomfort at birdpaws reply, he had completely forgotten the apprentice had this whicked talent and he certainly didnt like it. at least not when she spoke to him in mossfreckles voice, drawing all the wrong connections in his mind- no actually, he wouldnt like to hear anyones voice but her own which...well, he wasnt quite sure if that was even an option. though, how could one grow up wearing someone elses identity like a second skin without their own stable identity? he could assume it was a good thing for her in some capacity, the looming dread of something that just was not right as if perched on his shoulder, unable to be shaken off, as to coo in the voice of a loved one, lure em in and strike when they expected it least or something. however, where was he? ah, birdpaws reasoning yeah.. the enforcer slightly shook his head to focus back on the subject of their conversation rather than the crawling discomfort that birdpaws tone of voice caused and realised he was kind of stupid to assume a what? 8 or 9 moon old? apprentice had already seen every part of the territory. it was probably due to his own shadowclan apprenticeship only lasting a moon and pretty much rushing through everything, but perhaps thinking before speaking could be something to put on his 'do better' list.
clearing his throat, perhaps in an attempt to drown out the last little bit of discomfort, rookfire sorted his thoughts enough to get to explaining the obvious. "pretty obvious, darkwater mire is a mire, a marsh specifically. it rained recently so its a bit more wet than normal but its watery soil n a lot of thick bladed, kinda sharp grass, some tree n stuff... you should be a bit careful where you walk if you arent really familiar with it.. err you can hunt frogs n snakes, mostly small critters n gather moss or berries since its overall too wet for most herbs."
He’d studied her fighting technique on purpose. Had lost to her so many times on purpose. To see her guard go down, her walls lower. He hadn’t managed to worm his way into her heart — that was too much effort. His affections were not entirely a lie, but she’d denied him most of anything to do with herself, so there was no use in pursuing it further. He’d thought to spare her.
That thought had been pushed away.
ShadowClan was not suffering, exactly, but it could do better. Some could call him power-hungry. He would call himself the only winner in a game of power. She had asked him. What had she said?
And oh, who was he to deny such a lovely request? Salvation came in many forms. Lostspark had no peace in this life. So to leave her alone was to not fulfill her promise. Fulfilling her promise equated to death. Eternal rest, eternal peace. She had asked, and he would deliver.
So when the wind shifted, when his nose caught onto a familiar scent cutting through ShadowClan territory, Icethroat’s interest was piqued. He knew only one cat who took this route almost religiously every day. He hadn’t studied her for nothing. Watched her more raptly than ever, gotten her used to his companionship.
When Icethroat came in view of the Mire, silvery-blue eyes flashing with intrigue at the sight of Lostspark half submerged in the swamp's water, his countenance was carefully not hostile in the slightest. If anything, Lostspark had gotten used to his companionship; it was on purpose. What was better was that she was alone - and he had Hailneck with him. He wasn't fool enough to think he could take her out on his own. Unfortunate that she had to be the first, but what better opportunity would present itself, if he did not take advantage of this gift now?
In dark depths he spies,
Awaiting passing paws to lie.
The sound of sloshing water had Lostspark half-turning, gaze flitting back over her shoulder at Icethroat as he neared with another of their Clanmates. Hailneck. “Stay there,” she warned them, voice low and cautionary as she looked back towards the mire. ‘Seek the water of the mire…’ Smokekit had to be here somewhere. Wolverine would not swindle her so terribly. Or so she hoped. “The water here isn't...” Lostspark trailed off.
Lostspark eyed the murky surface as Wolverine's words repeated in her head. ‘...But doing so will cost you dire.’ There was something wrong with it, that was all she could tell. Something... was... off...
TEAR.
The rake of claws down her flank - successfully ripping through fur and skin - caught Lostspark by surprise, a half-hiss, half-snarl clawing its way out of her throat as she whirled, fangs bared. “The HELL are you thinking-” A white paw came swinging towards her face, and Lostspark instinctively crouched to avoid the blow, water lapping at her shoulders, blood seeping into the water. This was a stars-damned joke.
The marshy water hindered her movements, considering the ground beneath her was uneven. Icethroat and Hailneck were on the higher part of the slope - but that wouldn't stop her. Not when it dawned that this was no accident. No, they intended for her death.
She needed to gain ground . . . or water.
Fangs latching onto any vulnerable paws, forearms, legs. Claws tearing into soft underbelly as a tussle in the water ensued. She couldn't tell which brother it was - they both looked more of less the same standing next to each other. Between the three of them, she couldn't tell which of them was the most injured.
There were two of them, but that wasn't her current worry. Her concern lay at the bottom of the swamp. Pieces of Wolverine's eerie words clicked in her mind, a puzzle clicking together, building piece by piece. Somewhere behind her. Something. Stirring, starving, waking from slumber, blood steadily flowing into the water, a beacon of its own making. A nightmare unfolding.
— “Why so distracted, sweetie? Don't you want to know why I'm doing this? I'm helping you.”
Lostspark was barely listening to her Clanmate's panting. Until a singular sentence caught her attention. Caught her off-guard enough to slip, to falter, to turn away from the rippling water (a soon-to-be fatal mistake);
— “Is it fun to know that you've been replaced? That your mother, your kin, have no use for you anymore?”
He was a two-faced liar, as she'd suspected from the start. Out for his own gain. Icethroat's words didn't stop there, though. No, they only got more believable as the three of them stood there, too deep in the water to be considered safe. They burrowed into her, warped her doubts into reality.
[ Silver Tongue Active ]
— “That's right, Lostspark. You're replaceable to them.” Icethroat panted, blood running down the wounds on his sides in rivulets, mixing with the water. “See, Dawnstar has her new litter of thirteen. She has biological kits to dote after now. Why do you think I've been following you around lately, Sparky? Out with the old... in with the new...”
In her frozen-still state, she'd almost forgotten about the lethal monster rising from the depths behind her. And it was far too late for all three of them when Icethroat's final sentence registered, rolling off his tongue on another white lie that aimed to shatter her trust completely. When all three of them were suddenly submerged, blood blooming across the surface in an artistic display, tainting the Mire's water a scarlet shade.
— “Dawnstar asked me to kill you.”
Seek the waters of the mire,
But doing so will cost you dire.
Things were going according to plan. Or so Hailneck thought.
He had left words to his brother - knowing he was more than capable of convincing the to-die she-cat of her mother's betrayal. Out with the old, in with the new. just like how they'd get rid of Dawnstar. Icestar had a better ring to it, always had. Ice and Hail... why were those names around Dawnstar seem so familiar?
Didn't matter. They were in the water, a dance of death that turned the waters red. Hailneck had been got pretty good, he'd give Lostspark that. If there was one thing Dawnstar did good it was make her kin efficient fighters.
Then, something cold and slimy brushed against his leg. At first he brushed it off, but couldn't escape it when the motion was replaced by teeth. "Ow!" The fish BIT HIM! Took a chunk right out of his leg, and Hailneck ripped free to stagger back, his blood pouring into the water. "Ice, there's something -- it bit---"
Then the monster claimed them, sealing their fates.
There was a part of Freya, growing with each step she took, that really wanted to tell that dark shadowy cat to take her whispers and secrets and shove it. She didn't really want to come back here - she was finally free of it all! ShadowClan, the rules, that... family, if it could've ever been considered one. The whole concept of searching through this territory made the black rosetted she-cat want to yawn with boredom. At least she had managed to slip away from Sparrow for a bit, after having finally convinced him to split up for hunting. Though she was certain he would be tracking her if she didn't return shortly.
The thought made her smirk and flick some leaves up from the ground with her tail. As much as he never admitted to it, Freya knew she had him wrapped around her paw. It was clear in how he had saved her. A new feeling it was, to feel like there was some sort of guardianship over her that wasn't toxic or suffocating. And, if she thought about it, she supposed his company wasn't all that bad. Plus, in the short span of two moons, she had managed to learn how to survive on her own, in part thanks to his guidance. A win win, she supposed - no longer the once-timid and overly-sweet apprentice and getting a travel companion.
Crossing the scent lines without hesitation at the border and traversing further into once familiar territory, Freya kept her eyes alert for either a patrol or - better yet - the cat that shadowy figure had told her to seek out. Why? No idea. But the slender feline pressed on, a bored expression on her face. Several scents called out for her to stop - and her stomach growled - but she ignored them for now.
...Until a scent she actually, truly had not expected to catch wafted under her nose. Oh, well the cat in the flesh? How about that. "Dunno why you can't bring your shadow-ass down here an' do this yourself, but whatever," Freya muttered with a roll of her eyes as she crouched down and slid around the shadows of the undergrowth and - oh yuck. The ground here was wet and squishy and it made Freya want to gag.
Still though, ignoring the way her stomach rolled with nausea, two blue eyes peered out from the undergrowth as she came up on not only the scent she had been tracking; M- Lostspark. Standing alone in the bog, thick fog concealing the former medicine cat as she stood with her back to Freya. She was alone, and just as the slender gray feline was about to step out...
...Two other unfamiliar scents wafted past her nose. ShadowClan, of course, but it wasn't like she recalled (or cared to recall) their names as the two sources revealed themselves. The sound of it made Ma- Lostspark turn around, and like a reflex Freya stepped back deeper into the undergrowth in which she hid. There were words coming from her that she couldn't quite here, but what happened next she hadn't suspected.
Claws flashed through the air and tore into Lostspark, and some long buried instinct had Freya nearly standing up and revealing herself. An instantaneous, knee-jerk reaction as her blue eyes went round - a call to race out and help Mama. Put her claws, all of the training from Sparrow, to good use. Perhaps even... show Mama that she wasn't the timid, shy, useless Mirepaw anymore.
But that only lasted a second before she sunk back down again and a smirk stretche across her face. No, Freya would watch this. She would watch to see if Lostspark got what was coming. Whispers from that dark, shadowy forest reared in her mind once more, talks of a wish that had been made. No, not a wish. A choice.
...Oh. Oh. ...Oh.
Eyes going round, Freya felt a chill settle deep within her bones for the first time since being trapped in the arms of the twoleg that had taken her away from this place. Emerging from the depths of the dark muck was a creature she had never seen before. It was large and slimy, and even the smell of it she could tell was rancid. Nightmarish creatures from that dark forest she had visited appeared like rays of sunshine in comparison, and for a moment she was frozen. Trapped.
For a moment, she was Mirepaw once more.
By the time the water stopped bubbling - and the three cats were gone - Freya blinked. It was red everywhere and the smell of it blocked out everything else. An eerie stillness settled over the territory as thick fog worked to conceal the scene, and finally the gray she-cat stood.
So, Lostspark's fate was death.
The rumor was true.
"...Goodbye, Lostspark."
With that, Freya turned and started to head towards the border, the tiny poking in her gut telling her to turn around getting smaller with the more distance that was put between her and the gruesome scene. The sting behind her eyes eventually was shoved down and the tightness in her chest was snuffed out.
By the time she reached the border - and saw a very grumpy looking Sparrow, to whom she smirked - any trace of Mirepaw was once more buried.
a nod in response, somehow, rookfire interpreted the lack of words and facial expression as a attempt at hiding that she had absolutely no idea, but decided against keeping her to explain it again anyway. he preferred keeping knowledge close to his chest, be that because of how his mother had raised him, or because he was still no more than the jealous apprentice too selfish to share important medical knowledge with riverclans population during the crisis. honestly, he didnt care, it had never negatively effected him, only positively if he counted saving that cats live and looking super cool a half moon or so back whilst the others just stood and watched. yeah no he had no regrets about any of that (even if he probably should).
mudslide disappeared into the fog so rookfire turned to search himself, walking in a direction different enough from mudslides that they shouldnt come across each other that easily.
[ 16, 20, 18, 9 ]
engulfed in thick fog, rookfire relied more heavily on his nose this time, being able to recognise its clean pungent scent sooner than recognising its bristly, tall shape. the first bit of horsetail he found looked like it would be swallowed by muddy water at any moment, stepping into knee deep mud to retrieve it. now almost halfway muddied, the enforcer was a bit less careful as to where he stepped, dragging thick pelt through sludgy water without complaint. the next two he found were a bit muddy but shone bright green underneath.
lastly, one hidden snugly between a few blades of thick grass.
[ 4/8 slots, 3x horsetail ]
Mudslide
She, Her\Warrior\17 moons\Shadowclan
"I miss the yellow. I miss the yellin' and the shake downs."
Four was enough for her, so she didn't try and gather anymore, instead she located Rookfire's scent and followed it so they could both head out to camp, only then Mudslide could go on her own rendezvous lonesome. Her lengthy body weaved through thick fog and her glassy eyes strained to see ahead of her. Four horsetail... What was it even used for? Nope, not her business. Her paws sunk into the ground with each step and Mudslide tilted her head just a bit higher in an attempt to see over the thick gray haze.
When she finally trialed her way back to the enforcer, she was surprised to see he was covered (shoulder high at most) in tar. Wait, no, mud. Ha. Funny. Mudslide simply stared at him. He didn't seem to be having any trouble, he was just stupid enough to want to pick horsetail in an area full of mud for some reason. There was plenty around, why pick the spot with mud all over it?
She didn't announce her presence for a good long moment, merely watching the tom literally slide through filth. She then lightly cleared her throat, allowing her soft mew to fill the smokey air around them. "Done." She managed, her voice verging on a hitch as though she was holding in a cough. Without a word of confrontation, she made her way out of the mire. Well, at least Rookfire hadn't dragged her out here to get berries, she had a feeling if he had Mudslide herself would be drowned head to toe with mud, slipping and sliding from the lack of solid ground.
[Inventory - 4 horsetail (ONE SLOT LEFT)]
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❝Whatever will be, will be. Don't care what anyone else thinks.❞
-When You Grow Up, Your Heat Dies
Re: Darkwater Mire
Re: Darkwater Mire
