#wc story

[blissintheeyesofstarclan]

Moon 1 (pt 2)

Elsewhere, Ferretpaw was almost shaking with excitement as she followed Wheatstar out of camp. She had been eager for more training, constantly asking her mentor for new challenges. Today, they were going to explore a different part of the territory. As they found themselves at the roots of a hazelnut tree, Wheatstar suddenly froze. Ferretpaw came to a halt beside her, confused, until she caught the acrid, sour scent that had alerted her mentor. Before Ferretpaw could react, Wheatstar dove into the burrow the scent had been coming from. Wheatstar's heart pounded as she came face to face with the badger occupying the sett. With a shockwave of adrenaline, she twisted around and scrambled out, shouting for Ferretpaw to run. The badger had a savage snarl as it followed them up the tunnel, but they managed to escape, Wheatstar leaving behind tufts of fur in her struggle. Once they were safe, Wheatstar looked down at Ferretpaw with relief. "Remember this, Ferretpaw," she panted, "Always trust your instincts, but never let them lead you into danger." Darkdew was having a more peaceful time with Asterpaw. The two of them practiced new fighting techniques in a clearing, trading tips and tricks. Asterpaw, feeling a bit more confident after remembering the time he caught a huge rabbit, managed to surprise Darkdew with a swift attack. Darkdew purred, telling his apprentice to keep up the good work. Nectarwhisper had gone out hunting with Mothivy, trying to put use to Wheatstar's advice into different situations. Though he didn't find anything to mask his scent, with his patience he managed to catch enough prey to bring back to camp. Meanwhile, Mothivy had gone a separate way, drawn by distant howling. He discovered a wolf feasting on a carcass and waited for it to leave, hoping to scavenge any leftovers. Unfortunately, the wolf had cleaned the bones thoroughly, and Mothivy returned to camp empty-pawed. As for Shiningclaw, he had spent the day searching for herbs in the damp newleaf weather. Despite spending the entirety of sunhigh looking for thyme, he couldn't find any and returned to camp disappointed. As the sun began to set, BlissClan gathered in the camp, sharing tongues and prey. End of Moon 1

[mist-dancing]

I have this idea for the sequel of my warriors story, but i think it would be just so much better if it were the main story and then the one i had planned was just a prequel backstory for my previous main character. Like if a super edition was so long it was split into to 2-3 books.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Nine Reluctant Lives (final) (sprouting thorns)

Aldereyes could not hear the displeased murmurings that had been ringing quietly along the edge of every life he had so far been given. Now, there was no talking, no whistle of wind brushing his ears, not even blood pounding within his skull.

It was as if all was still–including his very heart, not falling to the pit of his stomach nor leaping into his throat, not melting with warmth or freezing with ice. It was as if he couldn’t feel anything at all, as if his brain didn’t have the capability of allowing him to look at who he was looking at and process how that would make him feel at the same time. It would be too much. It was too much.

So he was left looking at Sweettree, saying nothing, only gaping and staring like a fish flung onto the sandy shores of Riverclan.

Sweetree’s expression, however, was painfully clear. Her eyes shimmered with a sadness so powerful and deep that Aldereyes was sure that every cat in all five Clans could drown in them, and there would still be room left for the loners. Beneath them were bags so heavy her face drooped, coated in a fervid red like a fever. Her fur was a mess, flat against her frame in some places and sticking out randomly in others. Stars..she looked worse now than when she had died.

And Aldereyes is responsible for it.

The numbness thawed instantaneously, and as though there was the chill of a rainstorm over his head, Aldereyes felt droplets of coldness bury themselves beneath his aching skin, crawling beneath it like worms and inching toward his eyes, where they stung until they fell, soaking his cheeks. His stomach, on the other hand, was uncomfortably hot, and his gut felt as if it were being pulled and twisted. “Sweet-Sweettree!” He gasped, struggling to stand.

His mother stood there, whiskers away yet fields apart from him, saying nothing. Was she rejecting him? His own mother?

Did he deserve it?

An eternity passed, Aldereyes barely holding the strength to keep the wail of anguish from his throat any longer, when Sweettree stepped forward. She seemed hesitant, and Aldereyes couldn’t help but guess-almost feel as if he knew with certainty–that she didn’t want to so much as look at him, because he couldn’t be her son. Her precious kit. She didn’t want who he was anymore, no longer the kitten suckling at her belly or begging for a story, telling her while standing proudly on his small, stubby legs that he loved her and she was his best friend.

She didn’t want this monster.

Right now, he felt like the kit that she so desperately wanted, his own desperation and sorrow crashing through his entire body in endless waves, making his whole body shake and words quiver so much that they were almost incomprehensible. He remembered his mother and how much he missed her, but he had always pushed those memories to the back of his mind to avoid feeling them. Now, they were all around him. He could smell her milk, he could feel her warmth and the way she purred beside him, the way she pulled him close and licked his fur, even if he was already clean, because she just wanted to hold him while she still could. For a few heartbeats, he was that kit again. “M-Momma?” 

Sweettree’s eyes widened. She rushed forward so quickly, Aldereyes had no time to react. He stiffened in surprise when she buried her head into the side of his neck, then melted into the feeling, drinking in her scent as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “My precious son! I miss you so much! If only I had been there–I could have guided you–”

“No,” Aldereyes cut her off, forcing himself to focus on the reality of where he was, instead of the fantasy of the nursery from moons and moons ago. “You couldn’t have.” He frowned, chin trembling. “There’s a darkness in me, mom.”

Sweettree didn’t respond. She couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t agree. After several long heartbeats, she pulled away and faced him. “I love you, all the same. That will never stop, even if I hate what you have done.”

Aldereyes looked at his paws. How could he face his mother now?

“Look at me,” she told him, more firmly. He did so trepidatiously.

A fury began to burn in his mother’s irises. “I hate that you’re a killer. I hate that you’re a betrayer. I hate that you hurt cats that are kind to you, that trust you. I hate that you murder cats that don’t even know you. I hate the thoughts that you allow yourself to think. I hate that you let them control you. I hate what you let them do to my innocent little kit. But I can’t hate you. I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to. You’re still my kit, my precious golden star.”

A whimper escaped Aldereyes. He had forgotten his mother’s nickname for him.

His chest heaved when she pressed her nose gently against his head. He sniffed, hardly holding onto control and resisting the overwhelming need to let the sobs wracked his body. He dug his claws deep into the ground to steady himself. 

“With this life, I give you love. Please, please don’t let it lead you astray anymore.”

What did she mean by that?

Water slipped down Aldereyes’s throat, filling his lungs with a hot liquid that bubbled and buzzed within him. His paws tingled with a pleasant sensation that almost had him bouncing around the clearing. Then his spine stiffened, ice gripping the cartilage, spreading to his ribs and into the liquid like Riverclan in leaf-bare. No! No! He didn’t want the feeling to leave, but even so, he could feel the crackling tendrils spread deeper, and the warmth was completely gone.

Sweetree blinked at him solemnly. Then she raised her head. “Alderstar! Alderstar! Alderstar!”

Hers was the only voice throughout the clearing. If Aldereyes shut his eyes, he could have imagined her as a lone cat in a ravine, her words echoing off of the stones.

Everyone else sat in complete silence.

That was okay.

Sweettree’s voice was the only one he needed to hear.

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

A Journey To Meet Again (short story: part 1)

“Curlear?” Daisydust prodded her mother with a gentle paw when the older she-cat failed to respond.

“Do you think it would be a good idea?”

“If it matters so much to you,” Curlear mumbled, “go. Don’t stay for my sake if it makes you unhappy.”

Daisydust sighed. “I do want to go,” she said, leaning against her mother’s side. “But I won’t be happy if I’m without you. What do you think? Sure, the place smells worse and there’s almost no prey and the cats are rather unfriendly, but…Smalljump is there.”

Curlear tensed. Her eyes shut tightly. She never said it, would never say it out loud, but Daisydust could read her as well as she could read the claws on her paw, and she knew that it was the reason that Curlear had never joined the Dark Forest to be with her beloved son, not when she first died and not even when news spread that StarClan cats could go to the Dark Forest to have new kits. 

She believed that Smalljump died a second time.

In life, he was weak, skinny and frail and with no shred of confidence to make up for it, and he was sent to a place with ruthless murderers. If she went to the Dark Forest in an attempt to reunite with him, she would only have to face the fact that he was dead again and gone forever, with no hope of ever seeing him again. A glimmer of hope for an action never to be taken, because the moment it is taken, the hope is stripped away. 

Daisydust rubbed her cheek against her mother’s own. “Just a visit? Not seeing him doesn’t mean he’s not there,” she tried. “And…maybe we could be a proper family.”

Curlear looked at her, eyes glimmering. “Are we not a true family?”

“We are,” Daisydust reassured her, “but everyone else….I think you can agree that it’s a little messed up. I never properly knew Flipstep as a father–and I don’t want to,” she added quickly when Curlear frowned guiltily. “But it was always us. Us against them, us against the world. Us against our own family….I just….I want a fresh start.”

Curlear met her eyes, pupils shifting and muzzle twitching as she thought. Then she let out a long exhale that deflated her body. “One visit,” she decided.

“Really? Thank you!” Daisydust nuzzled her, pressing so roughly that Curlear was pushed to the ground with a startled purr. 

“You’re as heavy as a badger!” Curlear chuckled, though she made no move to wriggle free, and instead held her daughter close with her paws. 

“You won’t regret it,” Daisydust promised her. “I swear it!”

[shummthechumm]

I get it now. (and im sorry)

[murkshade]

silly alert silly alert!!! watch out!!

[cloverrallover]

we are the same / the same / but different

based on this post

[loafbud-wc]

They say to never meet your heroes...

[leaflverr]

Hollyleaf. I enjoy spikey Hollylesf designs, they're so peak to me

[thunderc1an]

Lol not to be girlie girl but like what if

leafpool fretted over her sister’s “kits” so much that thunderclan endearingly started referring to her as the 3’s second mother.

It would make sense, since of course leafpool couldn’t have kits of her own, so her nephews and niece would fit perfectly into that role for her.

And like- squirrelflight obviously didn’t care in the slightest because of the love she had for her sister. Plus it gave her the chance to stretch her legs whenever the other queens were busy.

[valleyclancampfire]

Hello! I'm Minnow and Valleyclan is currently my work in progress - these panels are what I've kept after deciding to go in a different direction and focus more on writing, and sharing Valleyclan lore. (I'm too busy to draw these days lol)

I got the ask game from @ranchclan to help spark ideas, but I'm planning written lore drops in the near future. If you have any questions let me know and I'll try to answer them :)

[blissintheeyesofstarclan]

Moon 1 (pt 1)

The sun peeked through the clouds, casting a soft light over BlissClan's camp. Morning dew held to the blades of grass as the Clan began to stir. Wheatstar padded toward the entrance, her mind focused on the upcoming training session she had been planning for Ferretpaw. But as she thought, she noticed Nectarwhisper at the corner of her eye, sitting alone near the fresh-kill pile, looking down. Wheatstar approached him, her eyes warm. "I know you have been troubled, Nectarwhisper," she meowed softly, "patience is key. StarClan will bless us with more kits, and you will be able to train a strong warrior of your own. A calm mind can make all the difference." Nectarwhisper nodded, soaking in his leader's words. He couldn't help but think back to Shiningclaw, the medicine cat who had treated him recently. The senior warrior was grateful for the tom's healing skills, which had allowed him to continue serving his clan. He only hopes for an apprentice of his own before something worse happens to him. Nearby, Darkdew was feeling unusually cheerful. He spotted Mothivy stalking him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Darkdew could react, Mothivy leaped out from behind a bush, startling him. "Got you!" Mothivy purred with amusement. Darkdew burst into laughter, his earlier tension melting away. They both shared this moment before heading off on their separate duties. Shiningclaw watched the two warriors with a chuckle. The old medicine cat then noticed Heathpaw by the medicine den, looking troubled. He called the young apprentice over. "You look like you have something on your mind, Heathpaw," he mewed kindly. The apprentice hesitated before sharing a bit of her recent troubles, but kept the details vague. Shiningclaw nodded along, aware of her reluctance. He reminded her that she has the whole clan by her side when she needs help, and to never be afraid to seek that support. Soon after, Mistsong retrieved Heathpaw for some training. As they made their way out of camp, Mistsong noticed Heathpaw seemed distracted. Mistsong lead Heathpaw to a small stream, where she gently asked what was wrong. Heathpaw, after a moment of silence, confessed to having disturbing dreams that had been causing her anxiety. Mistsong listened patiently, offering comfort to her apprentice. She didn't quite know what to do, but it was clear that just being there for her was enough to make Heathpaw feel at least a little better, allowing them to resume their training.

[bowiestarzzz]

😸

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Clanmates (Sprouting Thorns)

Dusk cast long shadows across the camp, painting the forest in criss-crossing darkness. The leaves of the few non-pine trees in ShadowClan’s territory were beginning to lose their bright colour, dotting the sky with yellow-orange spots. 

The sun ducked behind their shelter, giving a bite to the already cold air. Cats still mingled in the clearing, though they kept to where the shadows didn’t touch. Aldereyes, however, kept himself hidden in the darkest corner he could find. A mouse lay untouched between his paws. His attention was on his Clanmates.

He had been so quick to fret and panic about Myrtlewing’s betrayal as well as his own. Yes, he spent what felt like a moon in his own head with one-thousand thoughts a second, wondering why Myrtlewing, his most trusted Clanmate, best friend, and…possible mate?--He still wasn’t clear on that–would do something so horrid and wrong. Now, he began to ask himself another question:

Why was it horrid and wrong?

Aldereyes had been so quick to believe so. After all, it is what he has been taught since he was a kit: the life of the Clan is more important than the individual, never harm another Clanmate, do not take a life you don’t need to.

Everyone knew those things, everyone lived by them. In the humming chattering of the nearing night, he wondered if it was truly how he felt. Did he believe it was wrong? Did he believe it was horrid? Or are those just things that have been shoved into his head for so long by Stormstar, because his father couldn’t have anything less than a son who followed the code with everything in him?

But of course he knew murder was horrid, of course he knew betrayal was wrong. 

But did he care?

Clanmates…just the word had always felt so important to him. It wasn’t just a word though, was it? They were just cats, and what have they ever done for him?

The bitter wind swept through his fur and to the pit of his belly. The air reminded him of the freezing nights many moons ago, when he had been a crying kit alone in the nursery with a dead mother. Did anyone console him? Did anyone visit him? Not even his sister or her mother, who were in the same den said anything soothing, for StarClan’s sake! 

He remembered, now that his mind was consumed with it, getting sick and having to spend time in the medicine den. He remembered his racing heart, fearing that he would die just like his mother, the last cat that had ever cared about him before Myrtlewing.

He tried to recall if Stormstar visited him then. He thinks so, but his mind there is hazy, and he cannot be sure if it is only wishful thinking that he remembers it.

Now that poor excuse of a father has the gall to control Aldereyes’s every move? If Stormstar’s image was so important to him, why didn’t he bother visiting his half-orphaned son?

Was Alderkit not important enough?

His burning gaze swept the clearing. I was never important enough for any of you! They wouldn’t have even cared if he had died back then, would they? They wouldn’t even care now. One day of mourning and then they move on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened. 

All his life living by the code, following his father’s every wish, doing everything he could to be a model Clanmate, for what? To live, die, and be forgotten by cats that didn’t care enough  to stop him from freezing to death as a helpless kit?

Why should I care about them if they die, then? Why does their life have so much more value than mine?

Something hot dripped along his shoulders, slinking like worms through his skin and pounding against his chest. It was like rage, but much more pleasing. Aldereyes would learn moons later that it was the first feeling of a thrill. The first real blood-rush beginning to make its presence known as he gazed around his clueless, precious Clanmates. 

They had spent all his life treating him as just another Clanmate, just another mouth to feed, just another cat to give an empty compliment to for work well done. 

He was unimportant to them. 

He was nothing for them. 

Now, their selfishness would be their downfall. They have spent so long ignoring Aldereyes that they wouldn’t be able to tell his thoughts, to name his expressions, to see what he is planning. 

For once, Aldereyes didn’t feel bad at all.

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

--We've already caught a glimpse of it, but now Aldereyes's dark side is really starting to come out.

--Aldereyes and Hootpetal ARE somewhat friends at this point, but Alder's focus is currently on everything negative.

--It was noted in previous chapters, but Alder's Clanmates DO notice him. He's well-known as the best fighter in the Clan, possibly hunter too, but anything they say doesn't mean much to him, because you say "great catch!" to everyone. There's nothing more to it, nothing more personal.

That's what Alder means when he thinks that he's unimportant to them--he's just another Clanmate that could easily be replaced.

That's also why he and Myrtle became friends in the first place: he felt like Myrtle actually saw him.

Taglist: @ambitiousauthor @wills-woodland-warriors @starfalcon555 @umbranoxs @elementaldeityoffood @liberhoe

@frightnightindustries

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

What's Wrong? (short story)

Rushpaw stood up and took a step back, inspecting his work and giving himself a pleased nod when he found that he was satisfied with it. 

It wasn’t something he had been tasked to do. Cricketfur, brother to Rushpaw’s mentor, Martenstep–and his unofficial secondary mentor, as the brothers were never apart–was out on a solo patrol, so Martenstep told Rushpaw to relax for now, and that when Cricketfur got back, they would all head out for some training–which would probably end in some play fights, as that was the typical, never planned routine. 

But when Rushpaw stepped into his nest, a puff of dust rolled out, and he realized how filthy it was. So, he changed the bedding and padded it in with some extra soft moss. Then he flopped down again, but couldn’t settle because his eyes drifted to his denmate’s nest and how dirty it was, which left him feeling bad. So he cleaned that as well, then his other denmate’s nest, then another. 

Finally, he was done. He puffed his chest out, already smiling as he thought about how surprised and happy it would make his friends. Surely, it would be comfy, he thought. He lifted a paw, about to step into his nest for the third and hopefully last time for a while–

A yowl split the air, making Rushpaw’s fur stand on end all along his spine. Tail poofed to twice its size, he hurried to the den entrance, about to poke his head out. He was met with Martenstep, standing so close that he blocked whatever it was that had cats outside wailing in a loud, confusing chorus. 

“What’s happening, Martenstep?” he asked, eyes wide.

Martenstep’s head swung to look at him. The older tom’s own eyes were bulging, with a wild, yet far-away look in them. His mouth opened, then closed again like a dying fish, and his sides heaved roughly. Rushpaw was about to yell for the medicine cat, thinking that Martenstep was having trouble breathing, when his mentor spoke. “Get inside.”

Rushpaw tilted his head. What was going on? “I am inside.”

“Stay inside,” Martenstep corrected. His voice was rough, and he licked his lips, as though his mouth had gone dry. His attention turned to whatever it was in the clearing that had everyone freaking out.

“What’s going on?” Rushpaw tried again. He stretched his neck forward, attempting to peer past his mentor when Martenstep’s attention snapped back to him. “Do not look!” Martenstep practically screamed at him. 

Rushpaw flinched, flattening himself against the ground. Fear flooded him. But he wasn’t afraid of Martenstep. No, Martenstep was the kindest, most patient cat in all the Clans. Someone like him never snapped, never yelled–Rushpaw hardly remembered ever hearing him raise his voice at all. So what was going on? Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Stay inside and don’t look!” Martenstep repeated his orders. His gaze searched around until it landed on Beechhollow, nearby. “Can you watch Rushpaw for me?” he asked. But he wasn’t looking at her, not really. His eyes kept flicking to whatever it was he wasn’t allowing Rushpaw to see. “Don’t let him leave. Don’t let him look, not one peak. Not until….” Until what? It didn’t sound as though even Martenstep knew. “...Until I say,” he decided.

Beechhollow dipped her head solemnly. “I promise. I’m sorry,” she added as Martenstep raced away, toward that thing that couldn’t be seen. Rushpaw tried to look, but Beechhollow hurried to block him, ushering him deeper into the den.

“Sorry for what?” he asked his mother.

Beechhollow didn’t answer. Her tail drooped, and she dropped heavily in one of the freshly-made nests. 

“Sorry for what?” Rushpaw asked again, watching her. What was going on? Why was no one telling him, or letting him into the clearing?

Instead of answering, his mother reached out a paw and pulled Rushpaw close against her chest. “Oh, my dear kit,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” Rushpaw was getting frustrated. Worse, he was getting outright terrified. “I’m not a kit, I can take it!” he promised, hoping it was true. 

Beechhollow blinked at him, then let out a deep, long sigh. “It’s…it’s Cricketfur.”

Rushpaw’s heart skipped a beat. He broke away from his mother, on his paws in an instant. “What happened? Is he hurt? Does he need help?”

Beechhollow frowned, deep and sorrowfully. “He’s not hurt anymore.”

“But he was hurt? What happened? Was it a fox? A badger?” He gasped. “A monster?”

Beechhollow shook her head. “No, little one. It wasn’t any of that. It was just…” Rushpaw could practically hear the lump in her throat, visibly shifting like a lodged stone.  “Just a bad accident, okay?”

Rushpaw whimpered. “I can help,” he insisted. “I know some of the herbs! I can get anything Owlcliff needs, I can wet the moss, or–or get cobwebs, or–or I could–I could–”

Beechhollow rested her chin on top of Rushpaw’s head, silencing him. “There’s nothing anyone can do for him anymore, honey. He’s gone.”

Gone.

He’s gone.

Rushpaw’s other mentor.

His best friend. 

His older brother in all but blood.

Rushpaw’s heart stopped altogether. He froze, as still as a rock for several, painful heartbeats. Then something horrible rushed up his lungs, filling them, his chest, his twisting heart with cold and ugly thorns that stabbed at his lungs and crushed his ribs. It crawled its way up his throat, finally releasing in a loud, moanful cry. 

Dead.

Cricketfur was dead.

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

Rushpaw's pov when Cricketfur's body was brought to camp.

He, and specifically this moment, was mentioned in this post.

[thlaylistar]

HarvestClan full Lineup!

HarvestClan is a clangen group I’ve been playing with for a couple of days now. They live in an abandoned fruit orchard, whose overgrown flora offer them respite from the elements. They are a noticeably small group; two come from a clan-like group, one, a barncat, and one of mysterious origin.

I don’t think I’ll be doing a full fledged comic but I plan to make more stuff with them :333