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)]
__________________
❝And the cats kill one by one!❞
- Hartebeest by Yalokre
~ BRIARSPLASH ~
very large & fluffy dilute gray tortie she-cat with goldish-green eyes; just a scratch
[ shadowclan enforcer | she-cat | 27 moons | abrasive, standoffish, loyal ]
~
As Briarsplash led the hunting patrol in, an annoyed but calm frown was on her maw. It was not only as muddy as she'd expected, but worse from the recent rains as the early leaf-fall weather summoned more clouds and dreariness. She let out a slightly irritated huff, but didn't comment on it quite yet. She waited for her patrolmates to catch up and settle for a moment before she glanced over them. Especially with all of this mud, it wouldn't be a good idea to split them up entirely.
"...Alright," she meowed, her surprisingly soft yet raspy voice commanding as she caught their attention. "We'll split into two groups. Raspberryswirl, you take Flashpaw 'n head over there." She motioned to a raised piece of land dotted with pines and berry bushes. "I'll take Nightpaw 'n head over to the opposite side so we stay out of each other's fur. This mud's everywhere and can be tricky, or make you twist your paw — so be careful. We don't need to bother Mossfreckle or Grousepaw with some silly injury," she grunted, looking distastefully at the squelching ground beneath her paws. Stars... this was going to take awhile to clean off her pelt when she was done. But business had to be done.
"Now go and be quick, but don't come back 'till we get a few pieces each. Mistlewhisker won't be happy with a meager drop," she mused, dismissing them with a flick of her tail. The stocky, fluffy Enforcer then turned to Nightpaw, peering at the apprentice almost as if she were sizing him up for a moment, her gaze unreadable, before giving a curt nod. "...C'mon."
Briarsplash headed off into the raised ground on the other side, although it was futile to escape the mud. She glanced behind her to make sure Nightpaw was following before she paused, gesturing silently with her muzzle to a nearby frog. There, she'd let the apprentice take the easy one... she tasted the air, trying to pick up the scents of other critters among the swampy, sweetish air, tinged with the smell of berries and rotting bark. Soon enough she spotted a thrush pecking at one of the berry bushes; staying within sight of Nightpaw, she began to slink towards it, lowering herself in a practiced hunter's crouch (and trying not to grimace at the feeling of squishy, cold mud soaking through her belly fur... yuck).
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."
Birdpaw
ShadowClan Apprentice
she/her | 9 moons | 80/100
[Grey tabby with a dark overcoat, white underside and amber eyes] Purrks: Lyrebird's Lullaby [PERMANENTLY ACTIVE], Don't Mind if I Do!
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ The Fool ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
· · ────────────── · ·
· · ────────────── · ·
Birdpaw canted her head as Rookfire tensed, noting his discomfort at her words. Or more accurately, the voice with which she uttered those words. Hmph. But he recovered quickly, moving onto describing the territory for her rather than mentioning her odd "talent". Birdpaw didn't really understand how it was a "talent", as she had never once used her own voice--though, if she thought really hard, she might have spoken to Mama with her own voice once. But she hardly remembered that. She didn't even know what her voice sounded like.
The mire sounded interesting, and even though it was wetter than normal Birdpaw wasn't bothered by it. Her white paws stained easily but as a cat who was less concerned with her appearance and more concerned with how much fun she could have, mud was at the bottom of her list of things to avoid. There WAS a lot of moss and berries around, and whoo boy Birdpaw had to really fight herself not to run and chomp down on the delicious-looking treatos.
"Ohhhh neat!" Well, now that the territory bit was over, Birdpaw whirled on Rookfire and stared up at him--because she was in fact really small--with giant, surprisingly intelligent amber eyes. "What are your intentions for my brother?" She meowed sternly, not bothering to explain who she was talking about since even though Mossfreckle was not blood related to her, everyone should have seen how close the two were.
Ew! This muck was horrible! It messed up Nightpaw's fur, and made it all dirty and disgusting! He almost cringed in disgust with every step he took in it, the feeling of the mud on his paws was awful! Nightpaw listened as Briarsplash split the patrol into two groups. He followed Briarsplash to a different part of this place, before she pointed him towards a nearby frog. Wow! A live frog! He'd only ever seen them dead, this was the first time he'd seen one still alive. Whilst Nightpaw hadn’t been taught how to hunt yet, surely a bit of common sense would be enough? So he figured it'd be better to get close to it without scaring it away, that meant being quiet. The mud made that a bit difficult, but he tried his best not to be too loud as he got closer to the frog. But as the frog leaped a little bit further away, Nightpaw realised he had to catch it quickly. He dashed after it, claws extended as he attempted to pounce on it.
[Nightpaw rolls a 19! Google’s dice likes me way more than Dyno XD]
And…he actually caught it! It felt so weird holding it with his claws, he was used to picking a frog up with his teeth, but again, he'd never caught one until now. Quickly realising he had to finish it off. With a swift bite to the throat, he now proudly held his first kill. "I caught it!" The fur on his chest puffed out proudly as he held his first piece of prey in his mouth. 'I can't wait to tell Sleepysunrise about this!'
"You'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland before ye
Where me and my true love shall never meet again
On the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond!"
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.
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.
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.
Shadow Fiend: Active | Killer Aptitude (T3) | Ultimate Predator: Inactive | Hulk SMASH! [Inactive]
___________
CW: Dissociation, Accidental Self-Harm
Darkfall was trying to make a habit of once again being more active around the clan. That entailed engaging in more patrols. Though he still preferred to do his patrols alone, sometimes he would have another tag along with him. On this occasion, he wanted to go to Darkwater Mire. The reason was a bit selfish. He saw Lostspark headed this way and wanted to see if he could catch her for a bit — he wanted to talk with her. They had left many things unsaid, and he thought that maybe, just for a moment things would be able to return to how they were – that they would be able to go back to loving one another and supporting eachother.
Of course, this thought had been in the back of his mind recently. Lately, he had noticed Icethroat following her around and it drove him nuts. Not only that, but she allowed it. He knew… Or at least, he thought that Lostspark no longer loved him based on their conversation many moons before, but this… was she actually moving on? Did she really not want him anymore? Did that moment they shared in the warrior’s den mean nothing to her?
”Yes.”The Spectre whispered at the back of his mind ”You’ve outlived your purpose. You are little more than her ex mate and the father of her second litter. What do you have to offer that she would desire? You are no longer an Enforcer and thus are meaningless.”
For those who did not yet know, Darkfall had regained control – for the most part. The Spectre still lingered at the corners of his mind, stalking, taunting the dark-furred tom. It was as if the alter-ego was waiting for his chance to snatch back control. He hated it. If the nightmares weren’t enough, now he had to deal with whisperings of some absolute crazy head that got him demoted before.
Ugh. This was absurd and frustrating.
As he walked along, he noticed more scents mingling with that of his former mate’s. It was Icethroat, and his brother… Hailneck? It seemed as though they were following the enforcer, their scents slightly fresher than that of Lostspark. Something was off. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something amiss and he had to get to the bottom of it.
In a cloak of shadows, Darkfall hastened his pace. The massive tom couldn’t say for certain what this uneasiness was from, but something about this screamed danger.
”Run Darkfall.” The Spectre taunted ”Your precious toy needs your help. You can sense it, right? Lostspark needs you ~ Will you get there in time? Do you think? Or will you be late? Again?”
Growling in frustration, he only had one thing on his mind. Faster… he had to go faster.
Crashing through the forest now, he paid no mind to the mud that stuck to his paws nor how much he sunk into the ground with each step. He had to be there – he had to warn her, protect her, anything.
It was when he finally reached the Mire that he realized something was wrong. The scent of his three clanmates were thick here, but… they were no where to be found. There was no trace of them leaving the area. It was as if… as if they disappeared.
”Lostspark?” Darkfall called out, ears and eyes alert as he scanned the area. He hated the idea of calling her that name, and it was the first time that he had uttered it as him. She’d respond to that though – after all, she was so insistent that it was her name. He called her name once more, but was met with no response. All that could be heard was the slight bubbling of the water, and the buzzing of insects – Wait. The water!
Darkfall looked to the murky surface of the water and his heart sank. It was tinged a dirty red, causing it to take on a coppery brown hue that was uncharacteristic of it’s usual appearance.
”Too late. Too late. Too late.”
”Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.”
The voice in his head echoed in a chorus symphony of chants.
He was too late.
”Lar–Larky?” He called out weakly, frozen in place. Where…. Where else could she be? There was no scent trail leaving here, and the other two scents… all three scents led to the water. There was no doubt about it – Icethroat, Hailneck, and Larkfire had been in the water together. That meant that the thick scent of iron was…
”No…” He whimpered ”Larky… please…” He pleaded.
It was pointless, and he knew it, but… he didn’t want to believe it. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Darkfall began padding forward. The echoed voice in his head grew louder and louder and louder until… it stopped.
He was now at the water’s edge, staring at paw prints that were far too small to be his own. At paw prints that he had grown used to following behind. At paw prints that were forever etched into his memory. At paw prints that belonged to the one cat in the entire forest that had remained consistent (one way or another) in his life.
These were Larkfire’s paw prints.
Larkfire was gone.
Icethroat… Hailneck… they killed her.
A twisted feeling bubbled within him. A mixture of rage and anguish, of anxiety and fear, but most of all, a feeling of loneliness turned his vision dark and everything… stopped.
The Spectre yowled into the air. It was a feral, strangled sound that escaped his large framed body. There were no words as the yowl subsequently faded into sobbing. His body moved on its own as he searched the rest of the bank, desperate for a sign of life. It moved on its own as he waded into the water – just enough that he didn’t have to actively swim – begging, pleading for Larkfire to surface. His body moved on it’s own as it desperately began digging in the shallower portions of the Mire in an attempt to find evidence that she had somehow made it out. This went on for what felt like a life time but the result never changed. He found nothing. There was no sign of her.
Covered in water and slick mud, he hauled himself out of the water and threw himself at the nearest tree. Claws extended, he lashed out at the slick bark, screaming, yelling, and crying. Over and over he repeated her name. “Larkfire!” He yowled. ”LARKFIRE!” He hollered. Over and over and over again he called out her name, knowing there would be no answer.
Even when his paws were bloody and raw, even when his voice was hoarse and his muscles sore, he didn’t stop. He was too late. He had been too late again. How many times now was it? He had been too late in returning from searching for Moonpaw. He had been too late in telling her his feelings. He had been too late when she lay on the forest floor in the Icy Heartlands, dazed and bleeding out – her son snatched right from her. He had been too late in regaining his memories. He had been too late in realizing that she was gone when she returned blind and bloodied. He was always too late.
This time she was gone. This time, Larkfire was dead
When Darkfall finally came to, he collapsed against the tree he assaulted and sobbed. Due to the yelling and screaming, it came out more so as a series of choked hiccups. The love of his life, his soulmate was dead. Why? Why did she have to go out like this? He thought… this wasn’t supposed to happen! Larkfire had so far been the only one left mostly unscathed from his “curse”. Any and everyone he got attached to either disappeared or died. She… They… Oh stars, what about their family? What would he tell the kits? They were – they were supposed to keep the family together and safe. She promised. She… they were supposed to protect them! The amber-eyed she-cat couldn’t go so soon! They still had a whole life ahead of them. What… what was he to do now…?
He didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually, he stopped. He stopped crying, and he rose unsteadily to his paws. His body felt numb and his paws stung from the abuse he subjected them to. His head was throbbing – whether that was from the crying or when he had accidentally hit his head during his assault on the tree, he was unsure.
Azure blue eyes tinged red from the tears, he cast one last look towards the Mire. Still no sign of her nor the two toms that had been there. They were truly gone.
Shouldering the mental pain that came with this new revelation, Darkfall began to walk back towards the camp before something caught his attention. A foreign, yet oddly familiar scent was nearby. It was something he hadn’t smelt in ages. Not only had someone else been here, but she had been here. The dark-furred warrior wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks on him or not, but he couldn’t lose this opportunity. Even if it wasn’t her, someone else was here. They might have seen what transpired. He had to find out.
For the first time since finding out about Larkfire’s death, he had a coherent thought. He needed to find her.
He needed to track down his daughter.
As if he were a mindless zombie, the black-furred tom began heading in the direction of the scent that he was certain belonged to Mirepaw, stumbling through the undergrowth, no longer caring if the shadows engulfed him. The border of the outskirts… he was heading there. Soon. Soon he’d see his daughter again. Soon he’d find out what happened. Soon—
It was then in his dazed state that he saw her at a distance. She appeared to be with someone else, and his first instinct was to step in, to protect her, but he didn’t make any action other than his hackles raising ever so slightly.
”Mire…paw…?” He called out in a hoarse wheeze. The numbness that had enclosed around him like a thick fog began to ebb as his eyes once more filled with tears. ”Mirep-paw… Your m-mom… Larkfire, s-she…” He choked back a sob as he shook his head. Whatever instinct he had to fight the tom accompanying her while in his state (really, he probably looked bloody and horrific) deflated in an instant. Mirepaw was here, yes, but Larkfire…
Unfocused blue eyes shifted to the cat accompanying her before returning back to her. ”D-did you see? Do you know what happened?” He asked almost pleadingly. He had to find out what happened for sure, and this was his only way to do such – as much as it pained him to ask his daughter whom he hadn’t seen in moons about it. He needed something. He honestly didn’t give a damn about how Dawnstar would react, this was for him. This was for him and the kits he shared with the enforcer. Darkfall had to know.
[ @Mica This is a bit messy, but I fear it's not getting any better than this ]
__________________
Little Disclaimer: I live in EST (UTC-5) and my sleep schedule is completely messed up, so posts may be erratic My Characters
Birdpaw
ShadowClan Apprentice
she/her | 9 moons | 80/100
[Grey tabby with a dark overcoat, white underside and amber eyes] Purrks: Lyrebird's Lullaby [PERMANENTLY ACTIVE], Don't Mind if I Do!
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ The Fool ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
· · ────────────── · ·
· · ────────────── · ·
Birdpaw canted her head as Rookfire tensed, noting his discomfort at her words. Or more accurately, the voice with which she uttered those words. Hmph. But he recovered quickly, moving onto describing the territory for her rather than mentioning her odd "talent". Birdpaw didn't really understand how it was a "talent", as she had never once used her own voice--though, if she thought really hard, she might have spoken to Mama with her own voice once. But she hardly remembered that. She didn't even know what her voice sounded like.
The mire sounded interesting, and even though it was wetter than normal Birdpaw wasn't bothered by it. Her white paws stained easily but as a cat who was less concerned with her appearance and more concerned with how much fun she could have, mud was at the bottom of her list of things to avoid. There WAS a lot of moss and berries around, and whoo boy Birdpaw had to really fight herself not to run and chomp down on the delicious-looking treatos.
"Ohhhh neat!" Well, now that the territory bit was over, Birdpaw whirled on Rookfire and stared up at him--because she was in fact really small--with giant, surprisingly intelligent amber eyes. "What are your intentions for my brother?" She meowed sternly, not bothering to explain who she was talking about since even though Mossfreckle was not blood related to her, everyone should have seen how close the two were.
"oh!" rookfire chocked, half clearing his throat half coughing followed the word, having minorly chocked on his own spit due to the whiplash and trying his darndest to avoid coughing like a fool. he was lucky he actually knew the bare minimum, (since he had actually no clue how many of the large amount of shadowclan apprentices were lostsparks children as no one had ever told him about that), and was able to guess who birdpaw was referring to from there. lostspark n mossfreckle were pretty sibling-y and rook had seen him with birdpaw before so, in addition to rook not remembering any other male-ish cats he had a closer relationship with, so it must be mossfreckle. "uhm.., hes a good friend, you know-" he trailed off, head canted to the side enough that he couldnt directly see the apprentice anymore, (the lack of vision in that eye was finally more than just annoying,) uncharacteristically unsure about his words and overwhelmed with the presence of his body, suddenly hyper aware of how birdpaw might perceive him.
besides her obviously being more interested in his relationship with mossfreckle, the apprentice didnt appear to have much care for the territory they were still traversing through which he wasnt sure if he minded right now. whilst rookfires thoughts would normally stay from the conversation they were having and focus more on birdpaws voice, he couldnt quite bring himself to do that. the 'why' was present in his mind as a small whisper, curiosity licking at his focus like the thick fog he liked to remember parting like the sea. it had been a while since he had shared said fog with another soul and even longer since the fog he had so deeply connected with his mind was thick and pleasant instead of opaque yet thin and silky accompanied by a biting cool. though he was still interested in her ability to perfecty replicate another cats tone, and would perhaps try to ask someone about that eventually..mossfreckle maybe, lostspark hmmm, wow he really didnt know or had befriended a lot of cats.
Re: Darkwater Mire
Re: Darkwater Mire
Berryshine is RiverClan's medicine cat! 
]
