[Phoenix]

I'LL BE KING UNDISPUTED, RESPECTED, SALUTED

Throughout the entirety of leaf-fall, the following season, lurking just around the corner, had threatened to be one of the worst in recent history, and so far it had kept its promise. Someone somewhere – perhaps up in the stars where it was dry and warm and comfortable – was undoubtedly laughing at the sight of the clan cats, half-starved and frozen to the bone, struggling through snow banks that buried everything but the trees. They were absolutely pathetic, and he was, as usual, more pathetic than most. The trees seemed to do little to stop the harsh wind from biting straight through him, and he was willing to bet that he spent most of his precious energy simply shivering in a fruitless attempt to maintain some amount of body heat. He could not remember when he had last stood still – completely still - and his uncontrollable shaking made him even more useless than before.

Despite the lack of prey, hunting patrols were arranged as usual, and it was the unspoken hope that one day they would yield good results. Ratfur knew that he was usually the last resort when it came to such tasks, saved for only the direst times when the clan couldn’t afford to not send him, but even now, as he trudged through snowbanks, he found himself painfully aware of how useless he really was. As if his dark pelt didn’t set him at enough of a disadvantage, his inability to remain still enough to hide behind or in anything without giving himself away destroyed any chances he might have had to catch something. In fact, he had given up even trying in favor of fighting his way back to camp; he would consider himself lucky to even make it half way.

He had thin fur, a wiry frame, and poor lungs. He was not suited to this type of weather, and the cough that rattled through him only emphasized that fact. Illness seemed to be the only thing that flourished in these conditions, and if the leaf-bare did not warm up soon, the warrior knew that it was only a matter of time before he found himself in the medicine cat’s den alongside his former apprentice. Oakblaze – that irritating cat who had refused to leave him alone even when they were not obligated to spend the daylight hours together anymore. Now, dreadfully sick and almost completely lacking in the energy that defined him, he was confined to the medicine cat’s den, and as a result, Ratfur had lost his shadow. Too bad. So sad. Of course, it would not be fitting for him to be anything less than distraught over the severity of the young tom’s illness, so Ratfur played his part well, and as far as the clan was concerned, his worry was genuine. The sympathy was nice. But mostly he enjoyed getting his solitude back. In any event, Oakblaze was young and had the frustrating ability to bounce back from anything, so he figured that the other tom would recover eventually.

Not to mention that he lives to annoy me, and he could not do that nearly as effectively from StarClan.

Heaving a sigh that sent another cough through his frame, he stared ahead and set his mind to putting one foot in front of the other. He should not have ventured out so far – it was a big mistake on his part. He just wanted to get back to curl up in his relatively warm nest. One more step. Then another. His focus narrowed, and he kept shivering. Count them, Ratfur. One. Two. Three.

Ratfur | NightClan | Warrior | Be Prepared - Lion King

MY TEETH AND AMBITIONS ARE BARED

Fawn

[Fawn]

B O N E P A W
9 Moons. Tom. NightClan.

_{⇒I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way⇐}

---

For the love of StarClan (if they even existed), why had Cinderstep sent him on such a stupid hunting party? Not only had he gotten himself separated (on purpose) from the others, but after a few half-assed attempts at catching something, the cold had seeped unpleasantly into his paws in a way that made tolerating the wilderness any further impossible. Was there even any point to all of this snow?

Bonepaw was at an advantage, given that the thick white pelt cloaking him matched the current state of NightClan's territory so well, but as the apprentice was all too aware of, such an advantage was only an advantage if there was something to catch.
Is that a squirrel? Bicolored eyes narrowed with both scrutiny and contempt, trying to identify the scrawny shape moving through the snow at a turtle's pace, and inwardly irritated at the fact that he would now have to hunt it. With mutiny in mind, the son of Blackwolf and Ghostlight imagined himself leaving clumps of snow he pulled off his belly in his sister's nest, so it would be nice and wet when she returned from training with Starlingcry. It was a mean trick, but he was feeling mean.

Besides, she was battle-training and he wasn't. When he'd asked her to switch with him (even though he knew that wasn't allowed), Hollypaw had laughed and swatted him on the nose with her tailtip, teasing him as she raced after her mentor. Chhh.

As Bonepaw pursued the bedraggled, shivering creature, the distinctively bat-like appearance of Ratfur, his father's lackey, began to make itself apparent. Bonepaw didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed, so he settled for apathetic. Does he even know where he's going? Bonepaw narrowed his eyes against a chilly gust that blew the powdery top layer of snow into his eyes, making him hiss aloud. By StarClan, he hated this weather.

While he debated whether to actually speak to Ratfur, something else caught his eye at the base of a tall naked pine tree. Was that fur? Curiosity winning over his petty grievances, Bonepaw approached, and with as little effort as possible, pushed the snow away from the clump of fur.

Bonepaw hissed in surprise.
"Ratfur!" He mewed, flicking an ear back for the sound of the older warrior approaching. "I found Daypaw." So this was what a dead body looked like. The she-cat had obviously frozen to death in the blizzard, and the snow had been too high for her to be found, and NightClan hadn't wanted to risk any search parties. Bonepaw studied the frigid corpse; she could've been sleeping. Her eyes were closed.
"I'm not dragging her back to camp." He informed the warrior when Ratfur arrived, scoffing. "She'll stink up the place."

---

⇒I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams⇐

Word Count: 488 Words
Tags:Phoenix

[Deleted]

Ghostlight

The Ghost In Your Mind

It's time for me to take it
I'm the boss right now
Not gonna fake it
Not when you go down
'Cause this is my game
And you better come to play

---

The beautiful black she-cat hated the cold, always had. Despite having medium length fur, the freezing wind always found a way to seep into her bones. However, she definitely didn't mind curling up against Blackwolf to steal his warmth at night. Speaking of the macho tomcat with an ego the size of Starclan, those ghostly blue orbs glanced over a slender shoulder to find him grumbling at the snow covered ground.

At least i'm not the only one tired of snow... Ghostlight amused in her mind as she waited for him to make his way over towards her. Her feathery tail flickered, knocking off snow from her black coat, she was tempted to go back to Nightclan's camp and curl up in the Warrior's Den with her mate, but they were out here looking for prey to hunt.

The loud sound of a familiar voice took her attention away from Blackwolf as her ears swirled in the direction, there was only one cat who could sound as annoyed or obnoxious as Blackwolf himself. And somehow, she loved both of them. Twitching her tail slightly, the black she-cat made her way towards where her son's voice chattered away.

"Bonepaw!" Ghostlight said as she rounded a few trees, finding the brilliantly white tom in company of Ratfur. Those pale blue eyes flashed over the heartlessness of her son, something he no doubtly got from his hard-headed father, as she padded up to the stilled body of Daypaw.

The warrioress flicked her tail, brushing Bonepaw's nose in a small repercussion for her son's rude comment on his dead clanmate. "You should watch your tongue, what if Hollypaw had been the one out here instead of Daypaw." While she was sure he would say something rude about his sister, the former queen flickered her ear, not letting Bonepaw have a chance to respond with something nasty.

"Poor thing, may Starclan welcome her with open paws." The pretty she-cat leaned down to touch her nose to the tiny, frozen apprentice. While the silky warrior wasn't normally friendly or sensitive with other cats, including those of her own clan, there was surreal about young cats who lost their life. Something that had grown more pressing since she, herself, had had kits of her own.

Those pale ghostly eyes turned towards Ratfur, the sharp coldness returning to block out the gentle filter, "Ratfur, do you think you could handle taking Daypaw back to Nightclan?" Were she younger, and foolish about her emotions, she probably would have said something along the lines of: Or does Blackwolf need to help you out?

Oh Starclan, she could hear his head inflating now.

She was sure that was what Ratfur was thinking, despite her musing it in her thoughts. She was also pretty sure she would never be so careless to say such a thing to her mate.

---

It's time to get the chains out
Is your tongue tied up?
'Cause this is my ground
And I'm dangerous
And you can get off
But it's all about me tonight

[Phoenix]

I'LL BE KING UNDISPUTED, RESPECTED, SALUTED

At the sound of his name, Ratfur raised his head, ears flicking, and looked around for the source. Surprise, surprise – there was snow and more snow. Had he not recognized the voice, similar as it was to a certain black tom’s, he might have trudged on in the general direction toward a relatively warm, dry nest. However, Blackwolf’s son had called, and though any misplaced loyalty he might have felt toward his life-long companion – and didn’t that sound far more pleasant than it truly was – did not transfer over to his son, the wiry tom knew that Blackwolf’s distaste for him might as well have been a hereditary trait. He had quickly learned that Bonepaw would not willingly converse with him if he could avoid it, which was really just as well for the feeling was mutual. Lip curling downward in a displeased frown, he stopped in his tracks and twisted around before striding toward the snow bank that hid the apprentice.

Then he saw the body.

His first thought was, rather inappropriately, that the she-cat looked rather comfortable there, curled up in the snow. He was almost jealous, for she did not have to feel the bone-chilling cold and biting wind every moment of every day – not anymore. It did not occur to him until a moment had passed, during which he had simply stood there and stared down at the frozen corpse, that perhaps he ought to be slightly more shocked. Perhaps he was too numb to feel anything. Bonepaw seemed similarly unfazed; however, he was related to Blackwolf, so Ratfur would expect no less. The dark-furred tom glanced at the apprentice when he spoke and resisted the urge to point out that, with cats like his father, NightClan’s camp did not need a corpse to make the place unbearable. Instead, thin shoulders raised and fell with a shrug. “It would be no small feat—“ Only a large waste of energy and effort and time “—to carry a body back to camp.” They were simply going to remove it again the next day, and since the ground was frozen under a significant amount of snow, they would have no place to bury the dead she-cat.

Ghostlight’s arrival drew his attention, and he silently waited for her to stand beside them. The ghost of a smirk graced his lips as he watched her scold the apprentice for his distasteful words, but it faded into an appropriately somber expression when she turned to address him. Her voice was stern and her gaze not entirely pleasant. Ratfur was not quite sure what Blackwolf saw in her, though he also did not quite understand what she saw in him; clearly, they were perfect for each other. He might have found it amusing had the larger tom not actually managed to procreate; the wiry warrior was not fond of the idea of mini-Blackwolf’s running around wreaking havoc and insulting their father’s pathetic companion.

Oh how he wanted to answer negatively. Ratfur had had plans for the afternoon, and none of them had included anything close to hauling an ice-covered apprentice – Daypaw, apparently – back to camp. “Camp isn’t too far away.” Why had she asked him to do it? He was more likely to end up just as frozen as his cargo than make it back to camp with the dead weight – haha, he cracked himself up – dragging him down. “I think it would be a good idea if Bonepaw came with me; after all, he was the one who found her.” Yes, he found her, so he can help bring her back. This extra work is his fault.

Ratfur | NightClan | Warrior | Be Prepared - Lion King

MY TEETH AND AMBITIONS ARE BARED

Fawn @ghostlight

[Fawn]

B O N E P A W
9 Moons. Tom. NightClan.

_{⇒I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way⇐}

---

Uh oh.
Bonepaw had scented his mother even before he'd heard her voice pour into his ears, reprimanding him for his commentary, which he already knew had been in poor taste. Did he care? No. He wouldn't take his words back. He'd meant what he'd said.

"You should watch your tongue, what if Hollypaw had been the one out here instead of Daypaw."

His ears flattened, and it took more self-control than he'd thought he had not to say what was on his mind. Hollypaw wouldn't be that dumb. His sister was obnoxious, but she wasn't a frogbrain; she wouldn't go out hunting by herself, no matter how starved the Clan was. Fully aware of his mother's temper and the unpleasant feeling of getting a paw-smack to the back of the head, Bonepaw wisely held his tongue against further commentary.
Fine then.

Very nearly about to tune out of the conversation and focus on getting back home, when his father's skinny henchman spoke up about having him help carry Daypaw back to the camp.
Bonepaw glared. I hope you freeze to death next. The white-furred tom's neck bristled with displeasure, but any kind of vocalization he was about to make on Ratfur's oh so helpful suggestion was immediately snuffed out as Blackwolf arrived.

Sweeping a caustic eye across the gathered cats, his father stuck out against the snow in a way no other cat could; onyx fur, bicolored eyes, and broad shoulders, he would've been hard to miss even without all this snow. Blackwolf's gaze at last settled on Daypaw; his expression darkened, and a low growl sounded in his throat.

Bonepaw studied his father's face. He seemed more irritated by the loss of a future warrior than the loss of life, but Bonepaw didn't claim to know his father's thoughts.
Frankly, he didn't care.

The apprentice took turns raising his right or left paw, alternating between the two when the other one got too cold. It wasn't long before his father was giving more orders, like always.

"The ground's too hard to dig." Blackwolf flicked an ear towards Ratfur and Bonepaw both. "Find an old den and put the body there. Close it up after you're finished, then get back to camp."

Bonepaw's green and blue eyes met his father's gold and blue, aware that the last line had been directed at him more-so than Ratfur. He nodded stiffly, inwardly screaming over such an obnoxious task. Why couldn't they just leave her here till the spring? Any predator that tried to eat her would break a tooth before they succeeded, and closing up an old den sounded like work. Bonepaw resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead shaking out his fur.
"Let's just get this over with."

---

⇒I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams⇐

Word Count: 482 Words
Tags: Phoenix , @ghostlight