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Post by Fate Admin on Jul 19, 2014 15:30:15 GMT -5
The sunhigh patrol had returned too soon with somber expressions and Roughthroat’s limp gray body carried between two of its members. Her deputy had gone out to hunt earlier in the day, even against cautions from Smokefur that he appeared to becoming down with whitecough and if he overworked himself, as he was, it could very quickly turn into greencough. So many cats were ill, however, that every healthy warrior was overworked picking up the slack. It was why she herself had lost another life to the illness. She had lives to spare, however… Roughthroat did not.
The leader of the patrol had announced that they had chased a fox away from his body, hoping he might still be alive, but the fox had done its work. She sent the patrol back out to pursue the fox, to make sure it left NightClan territory or died if it insisted upon staying after murdering her deputy. Smokefur had prepared the tom’s body for his vigil and Ravenstar had taken to the Boulder Ledge for the rest of the day, refusing food when an apprentice was apparently ordered by its mentor to bring her some. She laid on the freezing stone with her small paws tucked under her body, staring down at the ground until Smokefur, with the help of a warrior, dragged Roughthroat’s body back out into the open for those who wished to say goodbye.
Her pale amber gaze looked right through the large gray tom as she tried to wrap her mind around another deputy lost to her so soon. As cats milled around his body and the sun sank in the west, stars began to appear. The night would be clear. She turned her gaze upwards as the first twinkling lights blinked to life and briefly wondered if one of them was Roughthroat, watching his Clan mourn his loss. Her thoughts turned swiftly to Boneshadow, wishing again for her best friend’s return to her side. Both her deputies had died fighting. It gave her pride in them, through the sorrow. They died as warriors were meant to die. Somehow it was easier to bear than watching her cats withering away from sickness, taking final rattling, painful breaths while they were destroyed from enemy within them they were powerless to fight against.
As the moon rose in the sky, a bright silver claw, she stood, her bones aching from the cold after staying in one position for so long. Roughthroat had been a good deputy, but NightClan needed a cat to take his place now. His death did not break her like losing Boneshadow. She had resolved never to allow herself to fall so low again, especially after speaking with her friend after losing her first life. She lifted her fluffy tail and let out the familiar call, “Let all cats able to walk on their own four paws gather beneath the Boulder Ledge for a Clan meeting!” She stood, staring down as her Clan began to gather around her, searching for one cat in particular among them. This announcement takes place shortly before leaf-bare ended. Some cats are still sick, but most are on the way to recovery at this point, if they haven't already recovered. |
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Post by Fawn on Jul 19, 2014 20:25:30 GMT -5
JUNCOPAW
9 Moons - Tom - NightClan
When you were standing in the wake of devastation. When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown
A kitten, his fur dusted charcoal gray, his pale golden eyes closed to block out the world, crouched beside the dead deputy's body. Juncopaw, the runt of Roughthroat's litter, did not have a heart that reflected his small size; he had loved his father dearly, though there had been some awkwardness between them.
That awkwardness hardly seemed to matter, now.
Murmured words of consolation and shared grief seemed to bounce from his body without sinking in, Juncopaw capable of only blinking for any sign of acknowledgment; in his limited moons of life, in his limited interactions with the other members of his Clan, he could not find the words.
It was a terrible, terrible loss. To lose a father. Juncopaw selfishly considered what the loss of Roughthroat meant for his family, paying no mind to what that loss meant for the Clan as a whole; the Clan be damned, his father was dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Juncopaw regarded the others with a wary eye; it was strange, this state of being alive, with the sharp, chilly contrast of the state of being deceased. It was almost as if Roughthroat had been sleeping, if it weren't for the wounds on his body and the bite around his throat that would've been the one to kill him. Juncopaw could smell him, his real scent beneath the pungent stench of fox and sickness, and it made his chest hurt, the ache deep and seemingly unending.
Deputies were not leaders, but he had been foolish to think them invincible. Roughthroat had stood like an immovable shadow over him, towering far above as something to admire and aspire to; he had respected him and had been in awe of him, rough-around-the-edges as he was.
The deputy's youngest cast a glance at the now unmoving form, his head bowing under the force of his grief. At Ravenstar's distinctive call, Juncopaw straightened up but did not move far from his father's body; instead, he drew back his shoulders and fixed his eyes upon her grimly, still suffering from the shock of so mighty a blow to his family.
He hadn't even a shred of interest for who would fill his father's pawsteps; they were unparalleled, as far as he was concerned. It felt... too soon, and yet he knew the laws of the Clan.
A deputy had to be appointed at moonhigh, following the old deputy's demise.
Juncopaw let his head tilt back, coldly gazing upon the moon that hung in the sky like a great big eye, which gazed unblinkingly back at him.
I don't know yet if I believe in StarClan, father. But if you are up there, please watch over mother... She's ill and ... we mustn't lose her too.
And with the cataclysm raining down
Insides crying, "Save me now!"
You were there, impossibly alone.
Word Count: 462
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Post by Deleted on Jul 20, 2014 20:44:07 GMT -5
do your duty in all things
never wish to do less======== Slatenose had been out hunting as well, managing to catch some alone time to reflect. She was very thankful that she didn't catch the greencough going around the Clans. With broken leg, she had been holed up in Smokefur's den for far too long and far too close to the sick cats for her comfort, but St.arClan had seen fit to keep her healthy, and for that she was grateful. Her one-cat patrol had went well, bringing back a few mice and a squirrel. Walking into the dark camp, she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Over the warm scents of her prey, she smelled the sick aroma of death. Her nose wrinkling as she entered the main cave, she realized with a start that an injured cat lay in the center of the camp. Depositing her catch, the senior warrior approached warily, refusing to believe the identifying scent that screamed at her brain.
Roughthroat. She was speechless. Nosing the body of her deputy, she sombered and said a quick prayer to the sky before moving away to give other cats their right to mourn. She sank away to a corner of the den, crouched much like Ravenst.ar atop the ledge. He's dead. No matter how she phrased it, she couldn't wrap her mind around the thought. Her mind wondered what would happen to the Clan, to her leader... to her apprentice. Juncopaw was Roughthroat's youngest son, if she remembered correctly, and while not close, they certainly didn't have an estranged relationship. If anything she knew Roughthroat loved Gracklefire, and by default, the kits she bore him, so she knew that ill feelings were not harbored there.
She noticed her apprentice crouched by the body of his father. Feeling a need to present herself, she approached him quietly and sat next to him for a few moments, hoping that her presence would be a small reassurance. She wasn't close to him by any means, that Slatenose recognized. Maybe that's something that needs to change, she thought, looking down on the still form of one of the cats she respected the most. She wouldn't dare to replace anything that Juncopaw had lost, but maybe she could at least become someone he could look to in times of trouble.
"I'm very, very sorry," she mewed quietly to the apprentice, lost for words more than anything else. "If there is anything, please let me know." The words sounded hollow, cliche, and she hated that. It seemed like just another phrase to give comfort, but Slatenose hoped that her apprentice could sense the meanings behind her words. Returning to her place by the wall, she left him to grieve alone, knowing that perhaps that was what he needed most.
Space.
Ravenst.ar's call pierced her thoughts. Slatenose realized that she had been lost in her mind for quite some time as moonlight lit up the caves. With one last, parting glance at her apprentice, she stood and stretched, feeling her joints pop and settle as she rose. Fluid steps guided her away from the cave wall and closer to the ledge where the leader perched. She settled once again, sitting comfortably away from the ledge to avoid gaining a crick in her neck. Common sense told her that Ravenst.ar would be announcing the next deputy, and she waited. Whatever happened, she knew, wise decisions would be made. There could never be another Roughthroat, but certainly the cat to step up would follow in his pawprints as best he or she could.
======== slatenose ║ warrior ║ nightclan
deputy ceremony! ║ tagged
559 ║ words
huh. introspection. weird for her. ║ notes
robert e. lee ║ quote |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2014 21:39:09 GMT -5
lost among the shattered dreams of princes
He had been asleep when they returned with the body, lost under a poppyseed haze. It was for the best, probably, when he did wake, and he heard Ravenstar's call. Though he didn't have all four of his paws, he still wanted to respond, so he began the painful process of moving.
He had kept his nest in the apprentices' den, to avoid the clogged sickness of Smokefur and Featherpaw's den. Once leaf-bare was over, though, and cats were healthy or healing, he would move. It was dangerous for him to be in such close quarters with others, knowing that any wrong step could jar his leg and blind him in pain. But it was more dangerous to catch the sickness that was claiming lives left and right.
It had only been a few weeks since his fall through the sky, since his hindleg had snapped, and he'd spent most of that time in a haze of poppyseed and sleep. But when his mentor called the Clan together, he knew he needed to respond. Something just felt.. different.
He shifted his body to rise on his forelegs first, before getting his good leg beneath him. Slowly, he rose, his injured leg bent out to the side at an awkward, painful angle. Palepaw froze, dragged in deep breaths, then hobbled forward, dragging his leg behind him.
Pain made it hard for him to see, but he was able to navigate by memory, mostly, and what little vision he had. When he made it out of the den, he stopped, breathing deeply. He could see the Clan gathering, and there was a somber sadness in the air. 'What happened?'
He moved awkwardly, slowly skirting the edge of the crowd. As he moved toward the front, closer to the ledge Ravenstar stood on, he caught a glimpse of a familiar grey. He moved closer, and an unfamiliar stench hit his nose, as he saw Roughthroat's body in full. His amber eyes widened and his mouth hung open.
It couldn't be. Not him. Not his father.
But it was. He dragged himself across the small clearing the crowd had left, no longer caring about the pain his leg was feeding him. He dropped to his belly next to his father, his heart contracting painfully. He looked at the bloodstained deputy with a look of shock and horror, before dropping his head and burying his face into Roughthroat's thick fur.
He drank in his father's lingering scent, no longer caring why the meeting was called. He just wanted to lay there, with his father, forever, until he was dragged away or he became cold like him.
P A L E P A W |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 21, 2014 22:29:42 GMT -5
Cedarbranch The Image of You
Night and the spirit of life callingAnd the voice with the fear of a child answers Wait! There's no mountain too great Hear these words and have faith
Before the moon had risen to it's full height, before Ravenstar had stepped up to call her clan to such a heartbreaking meeting, before she didn't know how she was going to live without such an important family member in her life, she was out alone. Hunting. She was trying to keep her mind off of her clanmates that had passed away to greencough, her brother Palepaw who had severely broken his hind-leg and may never become a warrior, her other brother Juncopaw who had barely survived greencough and was now on his way to recovery and his warrior name soon... and her mother who had fallen very very ill...
She was trying to stay level-headed and calm, like her father would in such a situation. Cedarbranch had to be strong for her sisters, her brothers, her clan. That's what Roughthroat would do, he'd be brave and dependable, helpful when needed. And so, she was out here, hunting for prey to give to the elders, the kits, her brothers... her mother. Even though the deputy never put pressure on his kits being perfect, daddy's little girl believed that she should just like him, a strong and noble warrior that puts the clan's needs in-front of her hers, always. She always believed that it was her place, after all she looked just like him, from the tip of her nose to the last hairs on her tail, why not behave like him.
And so, when Ghostlight, a senior warrior from her clan, found her alone in Nightclan's forests, her pale blue eyes somber and sad, Cedarbranch's whole world fell apart around her. Crumbling down as if the trees in the forest all at once fell on top of her, crushing the breath from her lungs and the life from her soul. Wide blue eyes stared into Ghostlight's as she saw her reflection fade from a tough and brave warrior, to a tiny, terrified and scared kit. She remembered the older black she-cat taking a step forwards before she bolted off, brushing past Ghostlight and towards the camp of her clan.
She barely remembered the race back to camp, the call of "Cedarbranch!" Came from behind her, possibly Ghostlight trying to catch up to her. Her long gray fur was snagged and pulled, but she paid no mind as she leaped over a fallen log, curved around a bush and sank through mud. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode from her body, her breath was coming in short gasps as she broke through the barrier of camp, stopping when the sight of her father lay in-front of her.
She saw her brothers curled up against his still, lifeless body as she stared, unable to breath, unable to move. Her vision became distorted as tears welled up in her blue eyes, a shaky paw moved forwards as she felt her heart splitting into two, the sound, she imagined, was like lightning ripping through a tree. She couldn't find her voice, she couldn't believe what was happening to her, and she felt the eyes of her clan-mates staring at her as she stood at the entrance, she vaguely remembered Ghostlight padding up behind her.
She let out a painful yowl as she stumbled forwards quickly, almost tripping a couple of times before the leaped forwards to press herself against her still warm father's body. How could Starclan be so cruel... how could they take him away from her like this. "Daddy... please..." She whimpered into his long fur, pressing closer against him, trying to wake him up almost. Cedarbranch held back another wail as she lay there like a kit. If any cat wasn't paying attention, you'd think that a Roughthroat was morning over his own body.
She heard Ravenstar's call sometime later, so or she assumed it was sometime later, she had blocked out any noises or concerning mews from clanmates, she wanted everyone to go away, everyone except her brothers and sisters and mother... Everyone except Roughthroat... how could he leave... He was suppose to be brave and strong, like a warrior from Lionclan, quick and lethal like a warrior from Leopardclan, and powerful and courageous like a warrior from Tigerclan... and yet here he lay, like a broken warrior that had fallen... It wasn't fair, none of this was fair! How could Ravenstar act like this was ok! She was going to get herself a new deputy without a second thought to her father!
She didn't want to listen, she didn't want to congragulate whoever the next deputy was going to be... She just wanted everything to be normal again...
He lives in you, he lives in me He watches over everything we see Into the water, into the truth In your reflection, he lives in you
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Post by Fate Admin on Jul 22, 2014 18:08:21 GMT -5
Watching her cats gather around her, pale amber gaze shifting briefly over those that remained beside Roughthroat’s fallen form, Ravenstar’s tail lowered. She allowed a moment of silence to fall over her Clan as she looked down on them before she finally spoke again, “NightClan has lost a brave warrior and noble deputy today.” She met the gazes of a few of the cats that were now looking up at her, “When I chose Roughthroat as my deputy… it was the hardest thing I had ever done, to replace an old friend.” Ravenstar was not entirely fond of public displays of emotion, but Roughthroat had not even been her deputy for very long, he had been taken too soon, and after how she had agonized over Boneshadow she felt she owed something to the gray tom as well.
“Roughthroat filled his role as deputy as well as I could have hoped from any cat. He left us too soon, but he died a warrior, hunting and fighting for his Clan.” She bowed her head briefly, eyes closed, to let one final moment of silence for the fallen deputy settle over NightClan, to let each cat reflect on his life and how he may have affected their own. When she lifted her head again, her gaze swept over the cats beneath her, “NightClan must have a new deputy. I say these words before the body of Roughthroat that his spirit may hear and approve my choice. The new deputy of NightClan shall be Slatenose!” Her pale gaze settled upon the warrior in question and she dipped her head slightly toward the fellow she-cat.
Ravenstar was unsure if any cat could ever truly replace Boneshadow as her deputy. He had been her best friend, her confidante, her foil. He had been the calm to her rage and the forethought to her impulsivity. He had not been afraid to tell her when she was wrong and to stand in her way when he truly thought she was taking the wrong path. Ravenstar could not imagine ever finding any cat to truly replace him, but no cat could prove to her wrong if she never gave them the chance. Roughthroat had been a good cat, a loyal and hardworking warrior, but their relationship had always been a rather distant one. She had respected Roughthroat as a fellow warrior of NightClan and listened to his opinion openly, but it had been nothing like her relationship with Boneshadow. Perhaps her relationship with Slatenose might turn out different. Only time would tell. |
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Post by Fawn on Jul 22, 2014 22:22:23 GMT -5
JUNCOPAW
12 Moons - Tom - NightClan The way Palepaw fell upon Roughthroat as though broken (and in part, he was), the way Cedarbranch whimpered their father's name.
It shattered him. Juncopaw visibly flinched, barely having time to register the supportive words of condolences of his mentor before his siblings had dragged his heart over shattered glass. He was the youngest of the family, but he had perhaps been the first to find out - the first to adjust, even if only a modicum, to this never-ending nightmare.
Whatever composure he was showing could only have been a result of how numb he felt. Approaching despondency, Juncopaw looked up to Ravenstar's small frame atop the cavern opening of their home, subconsciously pressing closer to his siblings to provide a sort of unconscious comfort - though his smaller body likely didn't offer much solace.
If his siblings even noticed his presence.
I say these words before the body of Roughthroat that his spirit may hear and approve my choice. The new deputy of NightClan shall be Slatenose!
A cold gust of wind blew straight through Juncopaw's heart, his pale amber eyes widening in astonishment. Of all the cats - of all the cats - Ravenstar had chosen Slatenose?
'So that his spirit may hear and approve my choice'. Those were the exact words she'd used. Juncopaw's ears pinned back, startled by his own violent opposition to his mentor taking his father's place; it all felt so wrong.
What about us? His family? Shouldn't we approve your choice? Roughthroat couldn't say anything anymore...
Juncopaw couldn't look at her. He didn't want to intentionally hurt her by letting her see the resentful disapproval in his eyes, and a part of him - a part of him that was still deeply hurt by his father's death that he could think of no possible replacement.
He didn't want the position filled.
He just didn't.
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INVENTORY
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Post by Phoenix on Jul 22, 2014 22:23:59 GMT -5
I'LL BE KING UNDISPUTED, RESPECTED, SALUTED Oh joy. A clan meeting. He loved clan meetings, particularly the ones at night, when he could barely breathe between the coughing that wracked his wiry frame every other moment and all he wanted to do was sleep. Green eyes peered out from the depths of the warrior’s den, where he had found refuge – ever since he and Blackwolf had forced that rabbit down the medicine cat’s throat, he trusted Smokefur about as far as he could throw her –while he waited out this newest bout of greencough that had decided to ever so mercifully spare him lest NightClan suffer without his unique and valuable ability to catch mud rather than prey. Heaving a sigh that ended in another series of coughs, he moved forward on weary legs, dragging his thin frame into the clearing to sit on the edge of the gathering crowd. A cold, leaf-bare breeze rattled through the camp, sending shivers down his spine.
If the timing of the meeting and the stories that had spread like wildfire around camp had not given away the surprise, he would have discovered the purpose mere moments in. There was a body by Ravens.tar’s paws, groomed and prepared for the vigil that would undoubtedly draw many from their dens that night. On the bright side, there’s more room for me in the den. All he felt as he gazed at the unnaturally still deputy was the biting chill of a typical night during leaf-bare. He had not known Roughthroat particularly well, as the other tom had been little more than his deputy. Around him cats grieved as though they had lost their best friend, and he could not help but feel somewhat out of place as he bowed his head, too numb from the cold to feel any pain.
When Ravens.tar spoke the obligatory words about how the deceased tom was brave and noble, he could not help but wonder, skeptically, if they ever used any other adjectives to describe a dead cat. They undoubtedly fit the deputy lying motionless before the clan, but he had never heard a cat describe him, for example, as ‘brave’ and ‘noble’. And he never would, either, he realized, for even if they somehow managed to make up some speech about some quality everyone knew that he had lacked, he would be as dead as Roughthroat when they spoke it; he would never have the honor of hearing them put a positive spin on his life – and they would try, he knew, because that was what they always did at the vigils. It was hardly suitable to send a cat off to St.arClan with anything other than potentially false compliments ringing in the ears of his clan mates.
The announcement of NightClan’s new deputy caught his attention, though he knew better than to even humor himself by toying with the idea that it could be him. Slatenose – like the rest of his clan, he found his gaze traveling over to the she-cat in question. He hardly knew her any better than he did Roughthroat. Congrats. Now can I go to sleep? Ratfur | NightClan | Warrior | Be Prepared - Lion King MY TEETH AND AMBITIONS ARE BARED |
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Post by Deleted on Jul 22, 2014 23:00:20 GMT -5
Cedarbranch The Image of You
Night and the spirit of life callingAnd the voice with the fear of a child answers Wait! There's no mountain too great Hear these words and have faith
She could feel him, the smaller and broken body of her brother pressing against her in a way to comfort and help her through such a difficult time. She could also feel all her other siblings, gathering around the body of their father who was starting to grow colder with each breath she took. She couldn't pull her head away from her father's gray fur as she remained, belly to the ground and head in his pelt, trying to keep herself from screaming her angry and pain to Nightclan and Starclan as Ravenstar continued her meeting.
Her ears pressed against her head, trying to block out Ravenstar's voice as the small leader spoke about how brave and noble Roughthroat had been as a warrior and deputy. Oh, it was hard to replace your friend!? Cedarbranch bit down on her tongue to keep her from yowling at Ravenstar as she talked about the deputy before Roughthroat, How hard do you think it is for a new cat to replace my father!? The gray she-cat couldn't keep her tail from lashing, swatting against Palepaw on accident as she felt her rage and anger build up from her clan just moving on like nothing had happened, like no-one had died.
It was then that Cedarbranch heard her leader name out the new Deputy for Nightclan and her heart dropped into her stomach. Slatenose... The she-cat lifted her head, holding back a wail as she pressed her nose against Juncopaw shoulder, keeping her disbelief and anger silent, but she could tell that her brother was feeling the same was she was. How could Ravenstar choose her. Slatenose, her former mentor and her brother's mentor, was chosen to take the place of their father, a warrior to tell stories about...
Cedarbranch's blue eyes opened as they blazed with so many emotions that she didn't even know what she was thinking, or feeling, and it hurt. It hurt all over from her heart to her eyes to her paws. Why did this have to happen to her... Why did it have to hurt so much. She felt like her own clan was betraying her, and throwing Roughthroat out to rot. Her eyes closed as she refused to look at anymore of her clanmates, letting Palepaw's small form press against her as she pressed against Juncopaw.
He lives in you, he lives in me He watches over everything we see Into the water, into the truth In your reflection, he lives in you
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Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2014 16:10:06 GMT -5
lost among the shattered dreams of princes
He was numb. He felt nothing. Just as when he had fallen from that tree, he couldn't feel pain. The pain in his chest, the pain in his leg, they were gone.
He lay there, face buried in his father's fur, numb. He was vaguely aware of Cedarbranch's desperate cries, and the way she moved between himself and Juncopaw, letting her fur press against both their sides.
He heard Ravens'tar's words, heard her name her new deputy--no. Heard her name the cat to replace his father. But he felt nothing. He was numb. Just like his father... cold, numb, slipping into darkness.
Palepaw was lost to sleep, in some distant place, where he dreamed of his father, remembered the way his fur felt, remembered his scent and his kind eyes and soft words. It was a place he could stay forever.
In his dreams, his father was healthy and happy, and he was, too. He could run and jump and show him everything he'd learned. And he was happy, and warm, and with his father. And his brother and sisters were there, and they were happy. It was a place of sun and light and happy. It was a place he could stay forever.
If only his heart would slow. If only his blood would chill. If only he would become as cold as Roughthroat. If only..
His dream stilled, growing dark, as Palepaw sank deeper into sleep. He would stay here, forever, at his father's side. He was at peace in his sleep, the warmth of his dreams held deep in his chest, settling in a safe place in his heart.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 23, 2014 20:00:57 GMT -5
do your duty in all things
never wish to do less======== Disbelief.
"The new deputy of NightClan shall be Slatenose!"
The words crowded her ears and she froze as every cat in NightClan turned to her. She stood, rooted her to spot, unable to move, to think, to comprehend. What in St.arClan made Ravenstar think that she could make a good deputy? Slatenose was a puppet, trained to think of nothing but the good of the Clan and -- oh. Of course. Thanks to her former mentor (who did not deserve the same prefix of the fallen warrior mere mouselengths away from her), Slatenose had done nothing for forty moons other than prove herself as devoted to NightClan. No wonder she was chosen as deputy.
Acceptance.
Those countless hours of grueling patrols, endless hunting, and hungry nights had finally paid off. She thought of her mother, who didn't even recognize her after her warrior ceremony. Are you proud of me? she thought, wishing she had a better relationship with her kin. She had learned she had a heart, and not a moon later became the deputy of her Clan. Did Slatenose feel like she deserved it? No. Would she accept the position anyway? Of course.
She steeled herself, preparing to become the cat who the Clan looked to when necessary, and padded slowly to the front of the gathered cats. As much as she wished to stay where she was, she did not let her head nor her tail to drop. As she neared the ledge where her leader sat, she skirted the large clearing around Roughthroat. There, she stopped, gazing at the apprentices and warriors around his body.
Shame.
It was impossible to miss the opposition expressed by the kneeling cats. Though their faces were buried in their father's fur, the body language expressed more. Juncopaw's flat ears. Cedarbranch's flicking tail, her form pressed between Palepaw and Juncopaw. Two of them called her mentor. Now they must call her deputy. The title their father held. Slatenose's heart, encased in stone, melted into a puddle of pure, unabashed grief. She watched three hearts break, two more so than she ever thought was possible. Why did St.arClan let this happen? Juncopaw didn't deserve this. Cedarbranch didn't deserve this. Palepaw...all of Roughthroat's kits didn't deserve this. They deserved their father. They didn't need -- or want, for that matter -- someone to be called deputy in his place.
Slatenose stirred, unable to tear her gaze away from the pain she felt in front of her and coursing through her. She opened her mouth to speak, but words didn't come. Couldn't come. Nothing felt right about this. She pondered, took a deep breath, and finally spoke, raising her voice so that all of NightClan could hear.
"I am humbled that I would be offered this position, but I will accept it with a heavy heart. I should not be called 'deputy.' That honor should have been Roughthroat's for many, many moons to come." She looked, heart heavy, at the body that lay before her. "I cannot take his place. No cat could ever take his place. I'm not here to replace Roughthroat, but to continue to act in a way that brings honor to the legacy he leaves."
Slatenose stopped suddenly, unsure of what to say. Finally, she finished her thought. "May St.arClan welcome him with warm hearts and a greeting worthy of such an incredible warrior." Still, worry gripped her heart, and Slatenose wondered what would happen now that she had taken up the mantle of NightClan deputy. ======== slatenose ║ deputy ║ nightclan
all of nightclan ║ tagged
601 ║ words
ALL OF THE FEELS ;-; ║ notes
robert e. lee ║ quote |
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Post by Deleted on Aug 6, 2014 10:53:04 GMT -5
Nettlefur had been finishing a blackbird in the camp clearing when they'd brought back Roughthroat's body. When Ravenstar called a clan meeting, he'd risen to join his clan, gathering beneath the boulder ledge, though he remained on the fringes of the group, his blotched eyes observing those around him. Roughthroat's kits gathered around his body... all but Mothstorm. Hm.
But as Ravenstar began to speak, he cast his gaze to her. She was announcing the new deputy. Slatenose. Pride swelled within him, and a keen sense of approval. Thank StarClan she hadn't made a choice that would throw NightClan in to further turmoil, like Hollowcry, or, ancestors forbid, Blackwolf. Slatenose was a rugged but reasonable cat. He admired her.
Ever watchful, the adverse reactions of Roughthroat's kits did not go unnoticed. Of course they had a right to be upset over the death of their father, but surely these new warriors knew enough of clan life to accept that this is what needs to be done. It was in the warrior code. It was how their clan would survive... Nettlefur felt a little disappointed in their actions, a little protective towards Slatenose. She spoke.
Ears flicked back, the lanky tom tensing. I should not be called 'deputy.' The words echoed in his head. That was fox dung. Slatenose was NightClan's deputy, and she deserved every bit of the title. The way things were done didn't change because five spoiled kits couldn't accept the warrior code in the wake of their father's death.
It wasn't like Nettlefur to think so bitterly of anyone, but with the whitecough still lingering in his lungs and the exhaustion that he felt, it was easy to let his defensive instincts take over. He shook them off, rising to meet his friend. To congratulate her, and to remind her that she was worthy.
Character; Nettlefur
Word count; 307
Notes; ~ |
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