#clawbear story

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

First Place (short story)

“Martenstep! Nettledeer! Wait up!” Furzeflower called out, panting as he struggled to catch up to his friends.

Nettledeer simply smirked at Furzeflower as he bounded over the crudely drawn line in the dirt. “Last place again? You really need to step up your game.” he gloated playfully.

Martenstep simply rolled his eyes and cuffed Nettledeer on the ear, earning a yelp from the yellow and brown tom. “Come on, Nettie, go easy on the guy.” Martenstep chided Nettledeer. “Furzeflower’s older than us, and he’s put on a lot of weight lately.”

Furzeflower blushed and looked down at his rounded stomach. He had been growing plumper as of late, but he didn’t think he was getting fat enough for his friends to notice. And it wasn’t like he had been eating more than usual lately either. Come to think of it, he had only started putting on the weight just three moons ago, after his… encounter… with Webstripe…

Furzeflower flinched and shoved down the memories of the silvery-white tabby tom away. No use thinking about him. It was a one-time thing and a one-time thing only.

Nettledeer looked at Furzeflower guiltily. “Sorry, Furzeflower.” he apologized shamefully.

“You’re fine.” Furzeflower chuckled.

Martenstep smiled. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Nettledeer nodded, and the two turned around and began to bound back to their dens. Furzeflower turned to follow them… but then he felt a sharp pain lance through his stomach. A grunt of surprise escaped his mouth.

“…Furzeflower? Are you alright?” Martenstep called out, craning his head to look back at his friend with concern.

“I’m fi-” Furzeflower attempted to reassure Martenstep, but he was cut of by another lancing pain in his stomach, this one strong enough to make him dig his claws into the dirt to keep himself from falling over.

“Furzeflower!” Martenstep bounded over, Nettledeer closely behind him. Both cats’ eyes were rounded with worry.

“I-” Furzeflower once again tried to comfort his friends, but yet another lancing pain shot its way through his stomach. This one was the strongest one yet, and he collapsed on his side with a yowl of pain. From there, the lancing pains became more and more rapid, and all he could do was stare up at Martenstep and Nettledeer in pure terror. They were now talking to each other, but the pain was so strong was that he could barely hear them.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“What else could it be, you mousebrain?”

“But he’s so ol-”

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER RIGHT NOW! We need to find Myrtlewing, NOW!”

That was the last thing Furzeflower heard before he blacked out.

~~~~

“See, guys? I told you he’d be fine! It’s amazing what our bodies can do, really… Oh! Looks like he’s coming to!”

Furzeflower slowly came to, blinking his eyes groggily and looking up as his vision unblurred. Five cats were surrounding him - Martenstep, Nettledeer, Cloverfox, Clawbear, and in the center of them all, Myrtlewing. Furzeflower’s friends looked at him with a mix of emotions clouding their eyes, while Myrtlewing simply smirked at him knowingly.

“Furzeflower! You’re alright!” Cloverfox cried out, surging towards him and licking the top of his forehead. Furzeflower simply took it with confusion.

“Hello, Furzeflower.” Myrtlewing greeted, his disembodied head swaying back and forth. “Did you have a nice nap?” he joked, exposing sharp, bloodstained teeth. Martenstep cuffed the medicine cat on the ear, while Clawbear tried his best to stifle a loud laugh and failed miserably.

“What… happened…?” Furzeflower slurred, looking back and forth in a daze while letting his senses come back to him. His insides felt like they had been torn into shreds, and he could smell… milk??? Where was that coming from?

“You started complaining of stomach pains and blacked out after our race.” Martenstep explained gently, curling his tail around his paws as he did so. “Nettledeer and I brought you to Myrtlewing’s den, and Cloverfox and Clawbear joined when they heard what was happening.”

“I just wanted to play with the kits.” Clawbear pouted, exposing his massive front teeth as he did so. Nettledeer swatted his ear gently.

Wait… did Clawbear just say… kits?!

Furzeflower suddenly registered the tiny mewling of kits and the kneading of tiny paws at his belly. He shifted his body upwards, trying his best to ignore the storm of pain that overtook his body as he did so, and looked down at his belly

What he saw made his heart explode.

Three kits were nestled snugly at his belly, suckling furiously and occasionally squeaking and shoving each other out of the way. There was a dark brown kit with a black stripe running down its back, black paws, and a black tail, a light gray tabby kit, and a ginger and white kit. Tiny, perfect, and undeniably his.

“Congratulations, Furzeflower.” Myrtlewing announced with a giggle. “You’re a father now.”

Furzeflower almost wanted to laugh. It was so painfully obvious in hindsight. But he couldn’t force a single sound to come out of his mouth. All he could do was stare down at his children - his children! - with his mouth agape and his heart threatening to burst.

“I know that feeling well.” Cloverfox chuckled, rubbing her cheek against Furzeflower’s with a loud purr. “I felt exactly the same when I had my little ones.” She looked away, the sadness of memories long passed clouding her eyes.

“I… I…” Furzeflower was at a complete and total loss for words. He instead chose to lean down and run his tongue over his kits. They stilled briefly as the bristles of his tongue touched their fur, before returning to suckling at a much slower and calmer pace, the feeling of their father’s tongue clearly having a comforting effect on them. Once again, his heart nearly threatened to burst.

“Gotta say,” Nettledeer broke the silence, “I wasn’t expecting you to hook up with Webstripe, of all cats.” he chuckled.

Furzeflower finally tore his gaze away from his kits to stare up at Nettledeer with shock. “Wha- how- no- you-” he stammered, his face flushing red. Nettledeer and Clawbear simply snickered. 

“It’s kind of obvious.” Martenstep admitted. “The tabby looks just like him, just a darker shade of gray.” Cloverfox nodded in agreement.

Furzeflower looked down at his kits again. Martenstep was right - the tabby’s stripes looked exactly like Webstripe’s. Furzeflower wasn’t going to let that bother him, though. He’d love his children until the day he faded, no matter what or who they looked like.

“Got any ideas for names?” Myrtlewing asked. “If it helps, the brown one and the gray tabby one are toms, and the ginger and white one is a she-cat.”

Two sons and a daughter. It took all of Furzeflower’s energy to not burst into tears of joy right there and then. He looked down at his kits again, then back up at Myrtlewing. “I have the perfect names.” he announced pridefully.

Truth be told, he had been preparing for this day since before he had even died. He’d never thought he’d be able to get to use the names he had spent so long planning. His friends’ ears perked up in curiosity.

Furzeflower looked down at his kits. “Birchkit,” he announced, running his tongue over the brown and black tom, who purred and snuggled up closer to his father’s belly. “Smokekit”, he continued, running his tongue over the light gray tabby tom, who squeaked in protest. “And Foxkit.” he finished, running his tongue over the ginger and white tabby she-cat, who slapped his belly with her paw in retaliation.

“After me?” Cloverfox gasped, blushing furiously. “Furzeflower, you shouldn’t have!” Furzeflower only had the strength to lightly bat at his friend with a playful purr.

“Great names!” Myrtlewing complimented Furzeflower, before turning to the other four cats. “Now, I think you should probably leave. It’s getting crowded in here, and I think you all should give Furzeflower some privacy. He’s had a long day, after all.”

“No fair!” Clawbear complained with another massive pout. Cloverfox simply chuckled and led the large brown tabby tom out of the den, Martenstep following them shortly after.

Nettledeer started to follow them, but Furzeflower interrupted him. “Nettledeer?” he called out.

Nettledeer turned to look at his friend curiously.

“I may have come last place in our race,” Furzeflower laughed, “but I definitely came first place overall.” He shifted his paw, accidentally brushing up against Birchkit’s ear, who began to wail loudly. Furzeflower immediately pulled his son closer to him and began to lick him, whispering words of comfort as he did so.

Nettledeer watched the scene unfold in front of him and chuckled. “You certainly did, buddy.” he laughed, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he called out before slinking out of the den.

Furzeflower’s mind was still spinning at a million miles per hour, but he continued to focus on consoling Birchkit, exhaling with relief as the little brown and black tom relaxed, dozing off in between his father’s paws.

With a chuckle, Furzeflower picked up Smokekit and Barkkit and gently placed them next to their brother, cradling all three of his children in his paws. As he watched them snooze gently, his heart threatened to burst wide open for what felt like the millionth time that day. He ran his tongue over the kits one more time. “Good night, my little champions.” he murmured softly, before lowering his head and drifting off to sleep, happier than he had been in moons.

Notes:

-Made Clawbear the fifth member of the friend group because I think he deserves more love and also because I can

-Foxkit’s prefix being the same as Cloverfox’s suffix was a giant coincidence! I imagine these were names for kits Furzeflower came up with with either Firetooth or Spottedbark, back when he was still alive, ofc :3

-Hopefully I got all of their personalities right!

========================

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okay now that my feelings are out of the way, the reviews:

--SO FRICKEN CUTE

--Aw Cloverfox

--Myrtle’s evil and professional personalities were perfectly shown and balanced here!

--Damn, Furze was unconscious while giving birth? Lucky son of a b

--I imagine Smoke, as stated, has the exact same stripes as Webstripe and the only difference is there’s some more spots (and/or maybe some of the stripes are broken up into pieces?)

--Myrtle waving his head like a Jack-in-The-Box

--Claw’s gonna be SUCH a fun uncle when the kits are old enough

--Got more feelings to express. Hang on, 

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[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Duckkit (short story)

“I thought you said you told her,” Fleathistle sighed as he stopped beside Fungichomp. His shoulders slumped.

“I did,” Fungichomp responded. He didn’t need to ask who Fleathistle was talking about.

“Were you clear enough?” Fleathistle asked. He indicated with his tail toward the clearing entrance, where Duckkit was watching excitedly as parents were beginning to retrieve their kits. “She still expects them to take her home.”

“She’s two moons old, Fleathistle,” Fungichomp pointed out roughly, the terrible situation making him easily irritated. “I told her that her mother and father died, that they can’t come back, that she won’t see them again, everything. I thought she understood. She cried for the rest of the day, no one could console her. But then it was as if she forgot that she was ever told anything, and just kept asking when her mommy or daddy were coming, or if they were coming soon. I don’t know how many more of those questions I can take. I know I can’t tell her a tenth time that her parents are dead. She’s so innocent.”

Fleathistle bristled. “They both just died? You believe that? Maybe someone did something. I wouldn’t put it past Myrtlewing, or those twins.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Fungichomp agreed, remembering when Scabpaw and Blightpaw were under his care, and shuddered. “But Clawbear saw it, and he’s a terrible liar. The ground was too dark to tell grass from cliff.  She fell, he tried to grab her….it was a tragedy. Funny. We should be used to those by now.”

Fleathistle slumped to the ground. “What do we say, then?”

Fungichomp shook his head, feeling utterly lost. “I don’t know what we can say that she will remember. Looking for one’s parents is an innate instinct hard to ignore, especially for a kit that doesn’t understand death. All she knows is that her parents leave her here when they need to, and that they pick her up when business is finished. She just…she can’t understand why they’re not picking her up.”

As he spoke, they watched Duckkit. Her tail had stuck up eagerly, bouncing around the parents as she searched them for a familiar pelt. Gradually, her smile faded. She sat heavily, and once again, tears began to well in her eyes.

“I’ll talk with her,” Fleathistle offered, rising. 

“Thank you,” Fungichomp told him. But sorrow continued to weigh in his chest like a frozen stone. He had had kits in his care without parents before, but never before had one been with him after their parents had died. What was he to do, now?

=================

--both Fungi and Flea belong to @wills-woodland-warriors

--Flea and Myrtle, and I think Fungi are on good terms, but with the situation, their tense. Also..reasonable to not put it past Myrtle.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Clawbear

Aliases / Nicknames: Bear, Brute, Bearbrute, All Brawns, No Brains, Birdbrain

Gender: tom

Sexuality: bisexual-greysexual

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father

Other Relations: (mentor, father)

Clan: Windclan

Rank: warrior

Characteristics: kills own Clanmates in battle for the thrill

Number of Victims: 5

Number of Murders: 5

Murder Method: tearing throat, snapping neck

Known Victims: five unnamed warriors

Cause of Death: face impaled by rock, killed by a Riverclan warrior

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

Spoiled silly by his parents, he was raised to believe that nothing he did could ever be wrong. Due to said parents being the leader and deputy, his Clanmates weren’t quick to argue with this assumption.

He became a giant bully, and a literal giant. He threw his weight around often, using it to hurt and intimidate fellow kits, then fellow apprentices, and still fellow warriors. 

His favourite thing to do was pin a Clanmate down until they said something he wanted, words like ‘pinecone,’ or sentences like ‘Clawbear is superior to me in every way.’

It, of course, didn’t make him very popular, but it was fun for him, so why stop? His parents sometimes punished him, but that was mainly to appease their Clanmates. The punishments were never serious, just bad enough to satisfy.

He was roughly middle-aged when it became rather boring. It was routine, now, no fun. 

Then, during a battle with Shadowclan, a strange urge surged him toward a Clanmate waiting to pounce, hidden from everyone behind a rock. They were Windclan, loyal to him. But still....

He didn’t think it through, leaping down and snapping their neck in an instant. He yowled fake anguish, claiming it to be a Shadowclan warrior, although everyone was already assuming that.

He didn’t know why he did it, and he didn’t care. It felt amazing. It wasn’t the same as killing an enemy in battle-- that was something anyone could do, and it was justifiable. But killing your own Clanmate, someone who trusts you? So close to being seen by others, no less!

It was exciting, exhilarating! He spoke to his parents often, hinting, or really complaining about the lack of battles. They were quick to listen. They targeted Shadowclan, Riverclan, even sometimes Thunderclan across fourtrees. Every time, he killed his own Clanmate just tail-lengths from the others. Once, in a really heated fight, he killed one right there and then in plain sight before quickly dashing away. No one noticed!

But focusing so much on hurting his own warriors came with the consequence of forgetting the enemy was even there. During one battle with Riverclan, distracted by watching his next target, a Riverclanner managed to sneak up and plunge him into the water, subsequently plunging a sharp rock through his face.

Additional Information:

--Yes it is a play on bearclaw.

--Like Primroseflower, Clawbear is honestly just a giant idiot, but x100. He has a single brain cell bouncing around his head.

--The rock sticks in one side of his face and out the other.

--He has an overbite.