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clangenrising · 4 months

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Month 11 - Leafbare

The snowstorm lasted for longer than expected. Scorch and Mystique had been planning to get her Name Charm interpreted the day it started but the intensity of the snowfall had caused them to bury their plans until further notice.

On the second day of snowfall, Scorch had tried to slip away. The snowstorm likely wouldn’t be pleasant to walk through but she thought there was a chance that it would cover her escape. Unfortunately, the plan had quickly fallen apart when she discovered the snow piled two feet high, blocking her flap completely. She had tried to tunnel through it but her Folk had pulled her away and tried to entice her into a game and she had reluctantly agreed that it probably wasn’t the best idea to go wading through snow deeper than she was tall. The third day was mostly the same.

On the fourth day, with the snow having melted to a more manageable depth, she carefully ventured outside. As she picked her way through the yard, she began to hold her breath. Each new step was the furthest she had walked without an escort in weeks.

Her mind began to buzz, flicking over the layout of the neighborhood she had memorized while walking with Mystique. The woods were North of her, across a few blocks of houses and a small stretch of city. If she was quick and quiet, maybe she could make it! She leapt onto the fence and winced as it rattled.

Hurry, she thought. Not much time.

She stepped quickly, paw over paw, down the thin line of the fence. Every sense was on high alert. Every sound made her feel sick to her stomach. A dog barked nearby. A car door slammed down the street. A door flap fluttered noisily to her left.

“Hey!” Mystique’s voice sounded, like a collar tightening around her throat. Scorch stopped in her tracks and put on a smile even as her hopes shriveled and died.

She turned to look at Mystique and said, “Oh! Hello, there. I hope you’re having a good morning.” Mystique bounded casually across her yard and sprang neatly onto the fence beside her.

“It’s not bad,” she smiled. “Are you heading out? I’d love to keep you company.”

Scorch sighed, desperation squirming in her stomach. “Can’t I just go out on my own for once? I’m going to go crazy with all these escorts.”

“I’m sorry,” Mystique grimaced sympathetically. “If I let you go alone and something happened Razor would kill me.” She meant it hyperbolically but Scorch swallowed tightly nonetheless. “And I’d be pretty upset too. I like you, ya’know?”

Scorch laughed with a coy look away. “Oh, please.”

“Really!” Mystique pressed, swiping lightly at Scorch’s ear. “You’re fun company! And I need more girl friends.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Scorch said, looking over again. She made the smile genuine but underneath she fell into despair.

“So where are we going?” Mystique asked.

“I don’t know,” Scorch admitted. “I was just going to explore.”

“We could go see Portia,” offered Mystique.

“Oh, yes,” Scorch said, resigned to whatever they were going to do. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Yeah!” grinned Mystique, “It’s not far. This way!”

And they went off. Scorch kept up the conversation when Mystique addressed her but her heart wasn’t in it. Her heart was twisting inside her and choking up her throat. She had no idea what she was going to do. She only knew she had to be gone before Razor returned.

Eventually, they came up to a fancy looking stone house crawling in ivy. It was definitely one of the older houses in the area, Scorch could tell just by the smell of it. Mystique led her to the back garden through a wrought iron fence and a snowbound flower bed.

“Obviously, you know,” Mystique said over her shoulder, “we’ll need to be on our best behavior when we talk to the Interpreter. We’ll show her your collar and she’ll tell us what name the Folk have given you.”

“It’s that simple, is it?” Scorch asked.

“From what I’ve seen, yes,” said Mystique, “but I’m sure it's more complicated from Portia’s point of view.” Scorch hummed thoughtfully.

Ahead of them stood a stately structure attached to the back window. Its bones were wooden but there was wire mesh stretched across it like a transparent skin in such a way that the other side was only accessible through the small tunnel that led to a flap in the window pane.

Lounging on the other side of the window sat Portia, her creamy white and tortoiseshell fur lit up by the morning sun streaming through the glass. Scorch had met Portia once or twice when shadowing Razor but she had never spoken to her. Only the exalted were permitted to engage her in conversation except in emergencies. She took a deep breath, smoothed over her chest fur, and followed behind Mystique who approached the window.

“Good morning, your grace,” she said and Portia opened one of her sharp green eyes.

“Ah, good morning, Mystique. What brings you to my garden?” Her eyes flickered over to Scorch’s face, narrowing briefly, but then widened with interest at the sight of her collar.

“We seek your wisdom, your grace,” Scorch purred with a bow. “I’ve recently been Exalted and would be deeply honored if you could interpret my Name Charm.” She stood from the bow and lifted her chin to better show off the little trinket.

“Of course,” Portia said, then yawned. She stood with an indulgent stretch of her spine, and padded through the flap and into the tunnel. “I live to interpret the will of the Folk. Please, approach my domain.”

She dropped down from the tunnel and onto the tiled stones that made up the floor of the structure, beckoning gracefully with her tail. Scorch glanced at Mystique, who gave her an encouraging jerk of her head, and approached.

“Sit,” Portia purred, flicking her one speckled ear. Scorch did. “Now let me see.” Portia opened her mouth to drink in Scorch’s scent. She closed her eyes and leaned in, sniffing lightly, then opened them and looked Scorch up and down. Scorch couldn’t help but wonder what that all had to do with interpreting her charm. She concluded that it was mostly for show. Portia’s eyes eventually came to rest on the charm and Scorch watched them dance sideways across it.

“Oh, the Folk have blessed you with a fiery name,” Portia nodded sagely, “one that speaks to your wit and passion while also inviting you to explore the more feminine side you ignore. Your name evokes the image of a home, warm and gentle but ready to support and protect the cats relying on it for shelter.”

Scorch smiled, thinking, tooth and claw, just get on with it already!

“Scorch is no more,” Portia continued, her voice as gentle as a blossom. “A new cat stands in her place, a cat with a duty to her Folk and to her mate.” Scorch swallowed through a wave of nausea. “The Folk have given you a name befitting this role. That name… is Gingersnap.”

“Gingersnap?” Scorchplume said, somewhat surprised. She couldn’t help but recognize how Clan-like it sounded, although the pieces put together didn’t convey any meaning she could comprehend. How did those words evoke the image of a home?

“Yes,” purred Portia. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Scorchplume lied, looking down to try and catch a glimpse of the Name Charm itself.

“It really suits you,” Mystique agreed.

“Of course it does,” said Portia. “The Folk do not give Name Charms thoughtlessly.”

“Oh, of course not,” Mystique said, wincing in embarrassment.

“Portia,” Scorch said, then quickly added, “your grace. May I ask a question?”

Portia smiled. “Absolutely, Gingersnap. What is your question?”

“I hope it isn’t… blasphemous,” Scorch said with a coy glance at her own paws, “but I’m so intensely curious; how do you know what the Name Charms mean? Is it just… a sense or… is it something I could learn to do?” She hoped that the phrasing she had chosen would be the most disarming way to put it. She wasn’t skeptical, no, of course not. She wanted to be like Portia!

“It can be taught,” Portia nodded, to Scorch’s surprise. “Although many do not have the knack for it like I do.”

“Really?” Scorch tried to fluff up with a hopeful expression.

“Yes,” chuckled Portia sweetly. “I have a few Pages who are learning to interpret as I do. I won’t be around forever, after all, and there are some cats who are confined to their own homes and can’t visit me here for their readings. My Pages visit them where they are and then return to me if the cat seeks further insight into the gifts the Folk have given them.”

“I see,” Scorch hummed. “Could I be one of those Pages?”

“Perhaps,” hummed Portia.

Across the yard, a deep voice called, “I think that’s a great idea.”

Scorch’s blood suddenly ran cold. No, she thought, no, it can’t be him! Paw pads slick with sweat, she turned slowly to face the voice, or at least, slower than her pounding heart would have liked. Careful, she warned herself, he has to think you’re happy to see him or you’ll lose everything!

Forcing her fur to lie flat and her smile to stay in place, she looked out across the yard. Striding through the snow was Razor, his tail raised above his back warmly. She had known his house was next to Portia’s but she had assumed he was still at the front! How hadn’t she sensed him coming?! Whiskers twitching, she realized with sinking dread that the wind had been blowing in his favor. Silently, she cursed the wind and him and herself and all the world.

“Razor,” she managed, hoping the tearful edge to her voice sounded loving instead of fearful.

“How are you, my little bird?” he rumbled, stepping into her space.

“Better now,” she lied, rising to rub her head against his shoulder. She even managed to purr. His scent was smothering and when he curled around her to nose the fur on the back of her neck, her stomach flipped, like the flash of a sickening memory. No! she screamed internally. Being around him never made me feel this sick in the past! What is wrong with me?

After a moment they stepped back from each other and he looked her over in a way that made her feel utterly exposed.

“Tell me,” he said, “what’s your new name, dear?” Portia opened her mouth but without looking at her, his tail twitched to stop her and she fell silent. He wanted Scorch to say it.

“Gingersnap,” she said. “Isn’t it lovely?”

“It’s got a kick to it,” he purred with a suggestive grin. “Very you.” She laughed and looked down at her paws to avoid another second staring at that face.

“How goes the front?” Mystique asked.

Razor’s expression darkened. “Not well. Apparently the savages attacked during the snowstorm and they killed Sycamore.”

“Woah, seriously?” Mystique said, her casual demeanor turning grim.

“That’s horrible!” Portia gasped. Scorch looked back at Razor in stunned silence.

“Yeah,” he said, the storm of his anger building underneath the surface. “There were at least twenty according to the survivors - way more than we had originally thought.” So they had united the Clans to fight Razor. Scorch felt a flash of hope for a moment before another realization hit her.

“Did they at least manage to kill any of the savages?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” Razor said. “The chaff there were not fighters, it seems. We’ll have to be more careful about who we send next time.” Scorch nodded quietly, trying not to be obvious in her relief.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Mystique frowned.

“But enough about that,” Razor flicked one ear. “You girls shouldn’t trouble yourselves too much with that kind of thing. You said you were thinking of becoming a Page?” He turned his focus back to Scorch, ears perked with interest.

“Yes,” she nodded, “if Portia will have me. I’d love to help interpret the will of the Folk.”

“There is no higher calling for a molly,” Portia said. “If you’re truly interested, I’d be happy to teach you.”

“I’m happy for any excuse to have you in this neck of the woods,” Razor grinned. Scorch laughed and gave him a girlish shove. Get away from me! she thought.

“Did you need me for anything, your excellence?” Portia asked.

Razor glanced in her direction and then shook his head. “Not right now.”

“Then I’ll excuse myself,” she said with a little dip of her head. “Gingersnap, please feel free to visit sometime and we can start your training.”

“I will,” Scorch said, stifling a wince when Razor stepped even closer and wrapped his tail around her. “Thank you, your grace.”

“It was my pleasure,” Portia purred. Then, she turned and slipped back inside.

Mystique shifted to focus on the remaining cats. “Should I… leave you two alone?” She grimaced in a very sisterly way.

No! Scorch thought.

“I think so,” chuckled Razor. “I’ll make sure Gingersnap get’s home safely.”

“Alright,” Mystique nodded and stood with a swish of her tail. “See you around, Gingersnap.”

“Yes, see you around,” was all Scorch could say. Mystique frowned a little, her eyes narrowing for a split second, but then she nodded and turned to leave through the wrought iron fence. Scorch felt like she might faint.

“Well, now,” Razor rumbled lowly, turning his attention fully onto Scorch. “I’ve missed you, little bird.” His tail brushed up her leg. “Where have you been all this time?”

“I went exploring,” Scorch laughed as if it were a trivial little thing. “You know, my time with you was the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place. I wanted to see the sights.”

“Without a word of goodbye?” he asked, shifting his weight ominously. This was a dangerous line of questioning and Scorch realized she needed to do something quickly if she wanted to keep up appearances.

“I’m sorry,” she pouted cutely. Her next words took tremendous effort to say. “Let me make it up to you?”

Razor’s lips split into a toothy grin. “Make it up to me? Now how would you do that?” He looked her up and down again, practically smirking.

“I’m sure I can think of something,” she murmured with a sultry look, stretching up on her toes to look him in the eyes. She was going to have to placate him sooner or later. She might as well make it her decision. This way she stayed in control. This way she wasn’t helpless.

“Why don’t we find somewhere quiet,” Razor said and Scorch purred.

“Lead the way.”

#TW SA mention #clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Scorchplume #Mystique #Portia #Razor #Leafbare #clangenrising

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