something wicked this way comes [p]

[iliri]

Spring
long-furred, scarred, oriental-shaped, gray-and-orange calico molly with blue eyes; torn right ear
purrks: herbal knowledge - tier 2 | the collector | mind reader | dreamwalker
she/her | … | 24 moons

---

cw: small bits of suicidal thoughts, self-deprecation, and emotional distress

Sleeping in the nursery brought back horrible memories that Spring never thought she would withstand again. The horrid memories of Smallsky clawed their way through her mindscape and planted themselves at the front of her mind. The molly was never someone she wanted to think about in a day of her life, and even worse when the recent events gave her that dreadful feeling that she may as well be turning into her. Why did she even bother to help that family and believe their twisted lies? Had she been so desperate for something to hold on to, some little salvation of feeling important, that she had been so diligent for anything that could mend the damage within herself? It was stupid. It was irreversible. She had done something wrong. This was the path she was never supposed to take—she had just meant to stay with Autumn and Pax for at least a moon to heal up before leaving to find ThunderClan, not go out of her way and have her more sympathetic side get treated with such blatant disregard and be taken to an extent by others. Now, she was the only thing her inner consciousness hadn’t wanted her to become: a traitor. A disappointment. A failure. Every cruel, twisted word she had ever imagined hurled at her by others now drilled through her mind, as though the shame was clawing her apart from the inside.

Each claw along her front paws slipped and plunged deep into the soft moss beneath herself, anxiously plucking away at it until she could feel each toe grow increasingly weary from the strain. At this point, maybe she should have allowed Bumblestar to rid herself of her. She was nothing but an extra mouth to feed for the clan anyway. A waste of space. Maybe it would have been better for ThunderClan if she had never returned at all. If she had just... disappeared. Maybe, if she were gone, no one would have to suffer her presence anymore. No more mistakes. No more betrayal. Just silence. The overwhelming sense of guilt consumed her like a dense fog, suffocating any attempts to push it aside. Her plucking increased, shaking from the strain as if any singular ounce of physical pain could numb the storm raging inside her head. She was broken beyond repair, and every reminder of that fact echoed in her thoughts until it felt like she couldn’t escape them. She didn’t know when the tears started rolling down her cheeks, but she could feel the warm wetness dampening her fur. It was a familiar feeling, though no less painful. The quiet, nearly inaudible sobs caught in her throat, strangled as she fought to keep them silent, unwilling to let the other queens or anyone in the camp see just how far she had crumbled.

Not now. Not when she was supposed to be strong and be a mother soon. What kind of mother was she, anyway? Her kits didn’t deserve her. They didn’t deserve someone too weak to even save herself, let alone them from this harsh tragedy. Her kits. The thought struck her like a thorn in the heart. She had tried so hard not to think of them, tried to push the inevitable out of her mind, but it was impossible now. They were growing inside her, and soon they would be here and depend on her for everything. Yet, they wouldn’t get the chance to do just that. Bumblestar had already decided before she returned to ThunderClan. The moment her kits were born, they would be taken from her. She would never hold them, never see their first steps, never know the softness of their fur against hers. Her kits would grow up without her—without ever knowing who their mother was. They would be raised by someone else, some other queen who was worthy of caring for them. And she… she would be cast out, banished from ThunderClan like the traitor she was. Just the thought of it twisted in her stomach, making her feel sick. What kind of life would they have, growing up without her? Would they wonder about her? Would they ever hear her name, or would it be whispered in shame, spoken as a cautionary tale about failure and disgrace?

Her claws flexed deeper into the moss beneath her, tearing at it in both frustration and despair. She was no better than Smallsky. Her mother had abandoned her moons ago, left her to fend for herself and her siblings, and now she would do the same to her kits. The cycle was repeating itself, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. What had she done to deserve this? She had only wanted to help and prove that she wasn’t the broken, useless cat she had always feared she was. But all her efforts had led her here where her past mistakes loomed over her like a dark shadow. Every moment spent in the nursery reminded her of what was coming—of the inevitable loss she would face once her kits were born. Spring's throat tightened as a fresh wave of tears threatened to spill over. She didn’t want to cry. Not here and not now. But the weight of her future pressed down on her like a large boulder, crushing any last shred of hope she might have had. The sobs she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free, escaping in ragged gasps that she muffled into the moss so no one else could hear. She wished she could disappear. It would be easier, wouldn’t it? If she were gone, her kits wouldn’t have to know the shame of being born to a traitor. They could grow up without the burden of her failures hanging over them. Maybe ThunderClan would be better off without her. Maybe her kits would be better off without her. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t survive the kitting.

Each thought stabbed deeper than the last, the idea becoming more real with each passing moment. It was terrifying, yet somehow it felt like a release—a way to spare her kits the pain of growing up in the shadow of her disgrace. She didn’t deserve them. They deserved better. ThunderClan deserved better. But even as the thought crossed her mind, something inside her resisted. Some small, stubborn part of her refused to give up. A very quiet, distant shell of her old self. They were still her kits. No one could take that away from her. She shifted, trying to calm her breathing, the moss beneath her soaked with the evidence of her grief. She didn’t know what kind of future awaited her, but she knew one thing: she loved her kits already. No matter what happened, no matter how little time she might have with them, they were hers. And that love, however fragile that it was, was all she had left. She forced herself to rise, her legs shaky by the overwhelming force of emotions, and padded slowly to the entrance of the nursery. The cool, leaffall night air brushed against the damp fur on her face, and she took a deep breath, letting the chill steady her racing thoughts. Outside, the camp was quiet, bathed in the pale yellow light of the moon. It felt peaceful, but Spring knew better. The peace was an illusion, a momentary reprieve from the storm that would soon come crashing down upon her.

She gazed out at the darkened camp, her chest heavy with the knowledge of what was to come. The moon cast soft shadows on the ground, creating a serene scene that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside her. She didn’t belong in this peace and to admire the beauty of ThunderClan’s camp like she had moons ago. Yet, the night seemed to offer her a quiet, fleeting moment of solace, as if the world had finally paused just for her to collect herself. It wouldn’t be long now before everything she left for herself would crumble around her. Her kits would be taken, and she would be exiled. Alone. Lost. Unwanted. The tears returned, though more quietly this time, slipping down her cheeks in slow, silent streams and creating small puddles in front of her paws. She had already lost so much, and soon, she would lose the last pieces of herself—her kits, her connection to the clan, and her purpose. What would she be left with after that? What kind of life awaited her beyond ThunderClan's borders? She knew no other clan would most likely want to take her in for the mistake she’d committed. Her mind turned back to the idea of disappearing, of walking away before the pain could become unbearable. But then she thought of her kits again. They would grow up not knowing her, but what if they needed her one day? What if, despite everything, they sought her out? She couldn't bear the idea of leaving them with nothing—no answers and no trace of who she had once been.

With a heavy sigh, she turned back to her nest—the moss being a shredded mess beneath her paws—her body sagging with exhaustion. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, all she could do was rest. She didn’t have the strength to fix the nest. Instead, she collapsed into it, her body sinking into the tattered bedding. She felt hollow, like a shell of the cat she once was. Exhaustion clung to her mind, dragging her under like deep depths of water, but her mind continued to race. The quiet of the nursery pressed in on her once more, but this time, there was a bitter acceptance in it. She couldn’t change what was coming. She couldn’t undo her mistakes. But she could hold on, for just a little longer—for her kits. Even if it was only until the moment they were born. As her eyes fluttered shut, Spring mentally made a silent promise to herself: no matter how brief her time with them might be, she would love her kits with everything she had. And maybe, just maybe, that love would be enough to carry her through the darkness that lay ahead. Spring’s body finally gave in to the exhaustion, the weight of her emotions dragging her into an uneasy sleep. But it wasn’t the restful slumber she had hoped for. Instead, darkness enveloped her almost immediately, pulling her into a dreamscape that felt eerily unfamiliar, yet twisted. She felt a chill, not the gentle coolness of a leaffall breeze but an unnatural cold that seemed to seep into her bones.

When she opened her eyes, the nursery was gone. The soft moss and the scent of the other queens were replaced by something far more sinister. The world around her was draped in thick shadows, the trees gnarled and twisted as if nature itself had turned against her. No stars lit the sky—only an oppressive, inky blackness stretched endlessly above her. The air was stagnant and the ground beneath her paws felt cold and unforgiving like the earth itself had forgotten what warmth was. Panic surged through her as she looked around, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faintest whisper of wind through the eerie, skeletal branches. Where was she? What was this place? Her breath hitched as she realized—this was no ordinary dream. She had heard of this place before moons ago when she was a kit, a place only the darkest souls ended up in. The Dark Forest. A shudder ran through her as the cold realization sank in. This was where traitors went. Murderers. Cats who had turned their backs on the code and everything good. Had she truly sunk so low that even her dreams reflected the darkest parts of her soul? For a long moment, she stood frozen, her deep blue eyes scanning her surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of something—anything—that could tell her this wasn’t real. But it was all too tangible. Each twisted tree and claw-marked stone seemed carved out of her deepest fears, and the weight of the shadows pressed down on her like a suffocating cloak.

Her tail flicked nervously behind her, the faint sound it made against the ground the only noise to break the oppressive silence. She needed to keep moving. She couldn't stay still. The shadows seemed to grow darker the longer she lingered as if they were watching, waiting for her to falter. So, she took a step forward, then another, each one slow and cautious as she navigated the forest. The ground was uneven beneath her paws, and every noise, no matter how small, set her on edge. A creeping dread settled into her chest as if she were being watched, stalked by something she couldn’t see. Who would have wanted to put her in a place so forsaken that they aren't bothering to show their true face to her? All she could do was hope that this was gonna be quick, and not end up badly as she was already dreading it to be.

@Levi 99 (if you are still interested in the spring & shade interaction!)

[Levi 99]

Originally Posted by iliri

Spring
long-furred, scarred, oriental-shaped, gray-and-orange calico molly with blue eyes; torn right ear
purrks: herbal knowledge - tier 2 | the collector | mind reader | dreamwalker
she/her | … | 24 moons

---

cw: small bits of suicidal thoughts, self-deprecation, and emotional distress

Sleeping in the nursery brought back horrible memories that Spring never thought she would withstand again. The horrid memories of Smallsky clawed their way through her mindscape and planted themselves at the front of her mind. The molly was never someone she wanted to think about in a day of her life, and even worse when the recent events gave her that dreadful feeling that she may as well be turning into her. Why did she even bother to help that family and believe their twisted lies? Had she been so desperate for something to hold on to, some little salvation of feeling important, that she had been so diligent for anything that could mend the damage within herself? It was stupid. It was irreversible. She had done something wrong. This was the path she was never supposed to take—she had just meant to stay with Autumn and Pax for at least a moon to heal up before leaving to find ThunderClan, not go out of her way and have her more sympathetic side get treated with such blatant disregard and be taken to an extent by others. Now, she was the only thing her inner consciousness hadn’t wanted her to become: a traitor. A disappointment. A failure. Every cruel, twisted word she had ever imagined hurled at her by others now drilled through her mind, as though the shame was clawing her apart from the inside.

Each claw along her front paws slipped and plunged deep into the soft moss beneath herself, anxiously plucking away at it until she could feel each toe grow increasingly weary from the strain. At this point, maybe she should have allowed Bumblestar to rid herself of her. She was nothing but an extra mouth to feed for the clan anyway. A waste of space. Maybe it would have been better for ThunderClan if she had never returned at all. If she had just... disappeared. Maybe, if she were gone, no one would have to suffer her presence anymore. No more mistakes. No more betrayal. Just silence. The overwhelming sense of guilt consumed her like a dense fog, suffocating any attempts to push it aside. Her plucking increased, shaking from the strain as if any singular ounce of physical pain could numb the storm raging inside her head. She was broken beyond repair, and every reminder of that fact echoed in her thoughts until it felt like she couldn’t escape them. She didn’t know when the tears started rolling down her cheeks, but she could feel the warm wetness dampening her fur. It was a familiar feeling, though no less painful. The quiet, nearly inaudible sobs caught in her throat, strangled as she fought to keep them silent, unwilling to let the other queens or anyone in the camp see just how far she had crumbled.

Not now. Not when she was supposed to be strong and be a mother soon. What kind of mother was she, anyway? Her kits didn’t deserve her. They didn’t deserve someone too weak to even save herself, let alone them from this harsh tragedy. Her kits. The thought struck her like a thorn in the heart. She had tried so hard not to think of them, tried to push the inevitable out of her mind, but it was impossible now. They were growing inside her, and soon they would be here and depend on her for everything. Yet, they wouldn’t get the chance to do just that. Bumblestar had already decided before she returned to ThunderClan. The moment her kits were born, they would be taken from her. She would never hold them, never see their first steps, never know the softness of their fur against hers. Her kits would grow up without her—without ever knowing who their mother was. They would be raised by someone else, some other queen who was worthy of caring for them. And she… she would be cast out, banished from ThunderClan like the traitor she was. Just the thought of it twisted in her stomach, making her feel sick. What kind of life would they have, growing up without her? Would they wonder about her? Would they ever hear her name, or would it be whispered in shame, spoken as a cautionary tale about failure and disgrace?

Her claws flexed deeper into the moss beneath her, tearing at it in both frustration and despair. She was no better than Smallsky. Her mother had abandoned her moons ago, left her to fend for herself and her siblings, and now she would do the same to her kits. The cycle was repeating itself, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. What had she done to deserve this? She had only wanted to help and prove that she wasn’t the broken, useless cat she had always feared she was. But all her efforts had led her here where her past mistakes loomed over her like a dark shadow. Every moment spent in the nursery reminded her of what was coming—of the inevitable loss she would face once her kits were born. Spring's throat tightened as a fresh wave of tears threatened to spill over. She didn’t want to cry. Not here and not now. But the weight of her future pressed down on her like a large boulder, crushing any last shred of hope she might have had. The sobs she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free, escaping in ragged gasps that she muffled into the moss so no one else could hear. She wished she could disappear. It would be easier, wouldn’t it? If she were gone, her kits wouldn’t have to know the shame of being born to a traitor. They could grow up without the burden of her failures hanging over them. Maybe ThunderClan would be better off without her. Maybe her kits would be better off without her. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t survive the kitting.

Each thought stabbed deeper than the last, the idea becoming more real with each passing moment. It was terrifying, yet somehow it felt like a release—a way to spare her kits the pain of growing up in the shadow of her disgrace. She didn’t deserve them. They deserved better. ThunderClan deserved better. But even as the thought crossed her mind, something inside her resisted. Some small, stubborn part of her refused to give up. A very quiet, distant shell of her old self. They were still her kits. No one could take that away from her. She shifted, trying to calm her breathing, the moss beneath her soaked with the evidence of her grief. She didn’t know what kind of future awaited her, but she knew one thing: she loved her kits already. No matter what happened, no matter how little time she might have with them, they were hers. And that love, however fragile that it was, was all she had left. She forced herself to rise, her legs shaky by the overwhelming force of emotions, and padded slowly to the entrance of the nursery. The cool, leaffall night air brushed against the damp fur on her face, and she took a deep breath, letting the chill steady her racing thoughts. Outside, the camp was quiet, bathed in the pale yellow light of the moon. It felt peaceful, but Spring knew better. The peace was an illusion, a momentary reprieve from the storm that would soon come crashing down upon her.

She gazed out at the darkened camp, her chest heavy with the knowledge of what was to come. The moon cast soft shadows on the ground, creating a serene scene that stood in stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside her. She didn’t belong in this peace and to admire the beauty of ThunderClan’s camp like she had moons ago. Yet, the night seemed to offer her a quiet, fleeting moment of solace, as if the world had finally paused just for her to collect herself. It wouldn’t be long now before everything she left for herself would crumble around her. Her kits would be taken, and she would be exiled. Alone. Lost. Unwanted. The tears returned, though more quietly this time, slipping down her cheeks in slow, silent streams and creating small puddles in front of her paws. She had already lost so much, and soon, she would lose the last pieces of herself—her kits, her connection to the clan, and her purpose. What would she be left with after that? What kind of life awaited her beyond ThunderClan's borders? She knew no other clan would most likely want to take her in for the mistake she’d committed. Her mind turned back to the idea of disappearing, of walking away before the pain could become unbearable. But then she thought of her kits again. They would grow up not knowing her, but what if they needed her one day? What if, despite everything, they sought her out? She couldn't bear the idea of leaving them with nothing—no answers and no trace of who she had once been.

With a heavy sigh, she turned back to her nest—the moss being a shredded mess beneath her paws—her body sagging with exhaustion. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, all she could do was rest. She didn’t have the strength to fix the nest. Instead, she collapsed into it, her body sinking into the tattered bedding. She felt hollow, like a shell of the cat she once was. Exhaustion clung to her mind, dragging her under like deep depths of water, but her mind continued to race. The quiet of the nursery pressed in on her once more, but this time, there was a bitter acceptance in it. She couldn’t change what was coming. She couldn’t undo her mistakes. But she could hold on, for just a little longer—for her kits. Even if it was only until the moment they were born. As her eyes fluttered shut, Spring mentally made a silent promise to herself: no matter how brief her time with them might be, she would love her kits with everything she had. And maybe, just maybe, that love would be enough to carry her through the darkness that lay ahead. Spring’s body finally gave in to the exhaustion, the weight of her emotions dragging her into an uneasy sleep. But it wasn’t the restful slumber she had hoped for. Instead, darkness enveloped her almost immediately, pulling her into a dreamscape that felt eerily unfamiliar, yet twisted. She felt a chill, not the gentle coolness of a leaffall breeze but an unnatural cold that seemed to seep into her bones.

When she opened her eyes, the nursery was gone. The soft moss and the scent of the other queens were replaced by something far more sinister. The world around her was draped in thick shadows, the trees gnarled and twisted as if nature itself had turned against her. No stars lit the sky—only an oppressive, inky blackness stretched endlessly above her. The air was stagnant and the ground beneath her paws felt cold and unforgiving like the earth itself had forgotten what warmth was. Panic surged through her as she looked around, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faintest whisper of wind through the eerie, skeletal branches. Where was she? What was this place? Her breath hitched as she realized—this was no ordinary dream. She had heard of this place before moons ago when she was a kit, a place only the darkest souls ended up in. The Dark Forest. A shudder ran through her as the cold realization sank in. This was where traitors went. Murderers. Cats who had turned their backs on the code and everything good. Had she truly sunk so low that even her dreams reflected the darkest parts of her soul? For a long moment, she stood frozen, her deep blue eyes scanning her surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of something—anything—that could tell her this wasn’t real. But it was all too tangible. Each twisted tree and claw-marked stone seemed carved out of her deepest fears, and the weight of the shadows pressed down on her like a suffocating cloak.

Her tail flicked nervously behind her, the faint sound it made against the ground the only noise to break the oppressive silence. She needed to keep moving. She couldn't stay still. The shadows seemed to grow darker the longer she lingered as if they were watching, waiting for her to falter. So, she took a step forward, then another, each one slow and cautious as she navigated the forest. The ground was uneven beneath her paws, and every noise, no matter how small, set her on edge. A creeping dread settled into her chest as if she were being watched, stalked by something she couldn’t see. Who would have wanted to put her in a place so forsaken that they aren't bothering to show their true face to her? All she could do was hope that this was gonna be quick, and not end up badly as she was already dreading it to be.

@Levi 99 (if you are still interested in the spring & shade interaction!)

DEATHWEAVER
SHADEFROST

THE STRONGEST

AGATHA KITTY | ACTIVE, BEEFED UP (T3) | ACTIVE, MIND READER | ACTIVE, SILVER TONGUE | ACTIVE

It was an ordinary night in the starless realm, or as ordinary as a place like this could possibly get. Cold, lifeless gusts of winds swept through the land with a sharp bite and the sky which gave the woodlands it's ominous name made it nearly impossible to see anything. Still, it did little to interfere with the sapphire hues that peered through the darkness of the forest, both watching the newly arrived visitor with an icy calculating glare.

At a glance, it was clear to the entity that this was no place for a queen such as this one, heck, especially this one. If the entire existence of clouds could summed up in a single word, a cat wouldn't even have to say it. All they'd have to do is point to her and it would be like... 90% accurate. 91 if you really wanted to push it.

The last time he'd seen her, she'd been a weak, pitiful, and whiny medicine cat apprentice. An annoying waste of space and aggravating to look at. He still felt that aggravation, even now.

His movements were slow and lazy, as he stalked the former medicine cat. He wouldn't even deign to place effort into this little hunt. Besides, he was capable of keeping pace with his prey just fine. And he was more then confident in his ability to be nothing more then a shadow in the forest.

How had she even gotten here? Sure, he'd been tampering with the practice of pulling living cats into his new dominion, but the molly had never been one of them. He actually had plans that he didn't need tainted by impure creatures like a lesser feline.

Hmm, perhaps he should just rip her throat from her neck a second time? Sure, it wouldn't really do anything, except send her back to reality and leave a few tiny punctures, but it would make him feel good.

The tomcat briefly rolled that thought over. It was a very enticing idea, and if anything, he could tell just by looking at the miserable wretch that she hadn't really changed since their last encounter.

He could easily leave the frail cat with more mind breaking trauma, and he wouldn't even bat an eye while doing. What was the suffering of a mere squirrel to him anyway?

Suddenly a flash wave of anger washed over the entity. He truly despised cats like this one. Though, it was this one, he disliked the most right now. Maybe he would take it into his paws to purge the forest of her weakness.
Stars knew everyone could do with out it.

And with that, he'd settled the decision.

Keeping the same slow, lazy pace he'd been going, the warrior crept toward the visitor. He didn't hide his presence, it wasn't like she'd be able to run from him with a belly like that anyway. Instead, he emerged from the shadows of the Dark Forest as if it'd been the surface of a lake, and he sat a few paces in front of her.

His glare seemed to worsen now that he had a better look of the she-cat, and his lip threatened to curl back into a silent snarl. But he held his temper, his hatred, and simply looked at her. She had to have seen better days then this.

The tom breathed a slow sigh, letting a portion of the steam he'd been building dissipate, then he forced a thin-lipped smile to cross his maw. It was anything but friendly, and the glare hadn't gone, but he wouldn't begin a conversation by being rude.

"Long time no see, little one," He said in an eerily calm tone which was a contrast to his emotions. "You seem...." the pause was followed by a dramatic, accessing gaze before he supplied, "How've you been since the last time we've spoken, I do hope life's been treating you better then you look."

(Sorry this took so long.)