[Insidious]

J U N I P E R P A W
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She was getting so tired of Whiteshade.

Whenever she was near him, she felt like she had to be balancing on her tail, as if maybe then he would actually be pleased with her. His right to be a mentor deserved to be revoked, because although he was admittedly a good teacher, that did not matter very much when the student was openly terrified. She was lucky to be alive; it would not come as much of a surprise if she saw his blood-red eyes unblinking in the bushes before he leaped out and cut her throat. Shuddering at the thought, she looked briefly to the bushes in question before pushing forward with a shake of her head, trying to dispel her mind of such nightmarish visuals.

There was no appeal to be found in the mountains that could not be found in LightningClan territory, but nonetheless she found herself craving something different for a change, something that would not involve a chance encounter with any Clanmates she did not particularly care to see. She did not know when she had suddenly become so hostile at the thought of spending time with a Clanmate. As a kitten, she had been friendly, always smiling, but that had changed within days of becoming Whiteshade’s apprentice. There was something about the creepy tomcat that . . . sucked out a good-natured soul and turned it into something ugly. She found that she rarely felt happy anymore, because there was just no time for it when she was always afraid to shut her eyes, wondering when her mentor would tiptoe through the apprentices’ den and prod her for another night lesson. There had been a few times that she had wondered about the benefits of approaching Nightstep, inquiring of whether or not he felt the same, but from a distance she observed some uncanny similarities between him and the mentor in question. She did not want her unease being reported to the unsettling albino, and so she had kept her concerns to herself.

Consumed by her thoughts as she was, Juniperpaw had not noticed the space in the ground that she had accidentally stepped into until she recognized that her paws were at uneven heights. Curiously, she looked down, peering into the blackness of the hole that she had uncovered. From what she had been able to tell, there was nobody around, and so she did not think any harm would come from stepping inside and taking a quick look around. Following her instincts, the pretty apprentice ducked inside, allowing her eyes to adjust to the new lighting before, with a sharp intake of breath, she stumbled backwards and froze.

She was surrounded by various bones, some just plain old animal skulls while others seemed to be attached to form sharp objects for a purpose she cared not to uncover. Strangest of all, however, was a jar with purple-eyed contents that made a shiver of terror rocket up the length of her spine. She had no idea what kind of a monster called this place home - what with the overpowering stench of lavender messing with her sense of smell - and she had every intention of getting as far away as possible before she found out. Forcing the life back into her stiff limbs, Juniperpaw turned around and prepared to make a mad dash for the exit, brought to a firm halt before she had even gotten started by the black shape newly blocking her way out.

“Rookfrost,” she let out a sigh of relief, “thank StarClan you’re here. I don’t know what takes place down here, but we should probably go before we find out.” She had not taken the time to consider what LightningClan’s medicine cat would be doing out here, having coincidentally found himself within this foreboding cellar at the same time as her. She was blinded by the hope that her Clanmate would keep her safe.

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Tags: Fawn
Word Count: 652.

[Fawn]

⇒Medicine Cat of LightningClan⇐

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        Black-faced death crept over the land of tall grass and thick sedge; the fat diamond-bright drops of moisture from this morning's rain were stripped from the blades, collecting in his pelt of black, though they could not penetrate the dense layers of fur and reach the skin underneath. Like an invalid cooped up inside the medicine cat's den for days at a time, Rookfrost had grown stir crazy, he had come to loathe the space he shared with the white-haired healer, embittered by the proximity in which they were forced to work. It was a balancing act between regret over his decision to share his profession with another creature, and the acknowledgement that Snowheart was in some way an integral component in ensuring he, Rookfrost, was left to his own devices. For all his dissatisfaction with his former apprentice's existence, it was something that made this very moment possible. Had he any concept of gratitude, perhaps he would have felt a modicum of it towards the other medicine cat.

But he did not.

He felt only the smolder of need in his chest, the white hot burn of curiosity settling under his skin like a fever he could not get rid of, the only tonic being that which he lived for; his research. The hollow came into view, the charred tree, branches twisting into the sky like the last, desperate clawing of a dying cat, would have been unsettling to any average creature. Even the prey stayed away, able to pick up on what the lavender and mint sought to mask; the aura of death had seeped into the earth upon which the hollow stood, and none that still breathed dared go near it.

At least, that was the usual, unconscious agreement he had made with the world; these other creatures he was forced to share his existence with would not tamper with his experiments, and he, in turn, would not turn them into some. Rookfrost fell into a sharp halt, obsidian tufts twitching in the low breeze that was carrying a scent from the hollow straight to him; the scissors that cut the thread of life were raised.

Rookfrost crept forward, the large, bat-like healer stepping up to the entrance to block the path of the unfortunate soul that had dared trespass where no intelligent creature ought to. Something had stumbled upon his inner sanctum, the darkest region of the valley where he pursued every scientific 'what if' and 'how' that lit up those empty, unfeeling eyes of his. She was not welcome here. Cloaked in a silent ire that suffocated the air around him, Rookfrost's claws unsheathed, and he stepped into the shadowed opening, cutting off the only escape for whatever had been foolish enough to enter here. His sacred place.

So accustomed to the dark as he was (figurative and literal), it took a mere heartbeat for him to notice something moving in the gloom; the figure coming towards him was familiar, the same way a memory too unimportant to recall properly was familiar, as if someone were trying to jog his mind and it hovered just on the fringes of recognition. It wasn't until he recalled the connection to Whiteshade that the terrified creature before him had any identification at all.

The scissors poised over the thread of her life.

“Rookfrost,” she let out a sigh of relief, “thank StarClan you’re here. I don’t know what takes place down here, but we should probably go before we find out.”

The sheer absurdity of the apprentice's statement was enough to make him blink, and cause a slight quell of the tight, tense feeling in his neck that was put there by his anger. Thank StarClan indeed. Thank them for leading her like a lamb to the slaughter? Thank them for allowing the process of natural selection to weed out the idiotic from the survivalists; she had fallen into the former, not the latter, which he supposed was her misfortune. It was an inconvenience, to him. Her life was inconvenient. Had she been a part of a larger hunting patrol, he would have adequate cause to show signs of alarm or concern - but she was alone, a bird that had gotten separated from it's flock.

"I do." Came the steady, resonant sound of the medicine cat speaking, taking another deliberate, silent step towards her. "Because this is my domain, and you have trespassed." The decision was made. It went without any deliberation; she must die for what she knows, which was a pity, in a sense. He generally placed some value in those few cats who seemed to know more than others. But this was not knowledge he would allow to reach the authoritative ears of the Clan's superiors, lest the question of morality that plagued LightningClan like a sickness drove them to act against him - as though he were a creature of nightmare, by their ridiculous emotion-based standards.

The fear on her face gave way to confusion, and Rookfrost thought he saw a faint glimmer of shock spill into the bluish-gray eyes of the she-cat. He broke their eye contact then, descending like a ravenous shadow upon her, his teeth enclosing around her throat like the scissors of fate, snipping her thread in a hard, precise bite. He knew where to cut. The body struggled and jerked as it always did, the brain always the last to die, the iron tang of blood coating his teeth and his tongue; he found it unsavory, and did not relish in the taste the same way his frequent accomplice, Whiteshade did. But there was no denying a certain, small amount of satisfaction was present over keeping his secret safe once more. He had done so for years, and it would continue on for as many years as he needed it to - before the world would eventually learn that most of their societal rules were useless, and let him step out from the shadows to continue his work in the light.

The body of Juniperpaw was released, where it slumped to the floor of the hollow, soaking in the smell of lavender and mint while the warmth fled from the rending in her flesh. To the outsider, seeing the tall, obsidian statue of the medicine cat standing over the frail looking body of the once-live apprentice, it would appear as those some dark god had been appeased with a sacrifice, her blood on his paws and on his teeth as though to sate some grisly appetite. He would have scoffed at the notion that he, somehow, was part of some unholy pantheon - because that would admit believing in more than cold, hard, immutable truth.

What he did believe in, however, was cleanliness.

Rookfrost would bury her with the others, and then see if he could do anything about the blood. He didn't want it muddying the floor.

Word Count: 1149 Words
Tag: Insidious