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TAG:@hati
Post by hati on Dec 16, 2023 16:43:50 GMT
There was a strange smell in the air. It was sharp and heavy, mingling easily with the bitter-metallic scent from her shoulder and filling her nose until it became all but impossible to detect anything else. The unfamiliarity of it had the hulking she-cat faltering, muzzle tilted into the breeze as she tried to track it; identify it; make sense of it. It was too much the unknown, however: even when she opened her jaws to taste it, nose wrinkling at the tang of it, she found herself unable to think of any name or likeness for it.
Tiger supposed she shouldn't be surprised.
She'd come a long, long way from her birthlands now, so it wasn't so unusual to encounter the unfamiliar and nameless - and yet even so this stood out. There was something about the heavy-sharpness that tugged at a deep and dormant part of her, stirring up a dim curiosity she'd long since thought she'd left behind. The she-cat tried to ignore it, knowing it could be dangerous—that she was better off focusing on her search; finding somewhere to lay up whilst she healed—but the curiosity proved difficult to brush aside.
Should she risk it?
Tiger drew in the scent again, tongue tingling at the taste of it and claws curling lightly into the rocky earth as if to anchor her there: as it to make her abandon the whim that was tickling across the edges of her weary mind. In the end, however, that subtle grip proved futile, and at last she turned fully into the scent, letting it tug her forwards despite the warnings chiming in her head. She'd likely pay for it later—if nothing else the growing fire from her shoulder would definitely punish her—but the moons had been long and hard and she needed, longed for, something a little lighter. Perhaps this tang would bring it to her.
It was a foolish thought, but Tiger trudged through the growingly rocky landscape anyway, tail tip twitching each time her right forepaw touched the ground. She was on an incline now, she realised, and each step sent sharpened bolts snarling through her clawed shoulder, the strain building with the steepness until at last she shifted her gait, gathering her weight into her haunches. The stronger push of her back legs soon saw her to the top of the rise - and there she slammed to a standstill, claws piercing the earth and a startled growl spilling from her maw as she found herself staring at blue sky; empty air; the dizzying drop opened up before her.
Bristling with shock, Tiger backed off from the cliff edge, all too aware of what happened to cats who fell from such heights. She didn't retreat entirely, however. Instead she peered down from the clifftop, the sharp-heavy tang in the air coaxing her to look where otherwise she might simply have turned away: nagging curiosity making her make one last attempt at looking for its source. A moment later her claws were digging deeper into the earth, clinging instinctively as she stared down at the sharp rocks jutting up far below; at the water rippling around them; at the foam that danced on top of it it, holding her there even despite the perilous drop... LAST EDIT: Dec 16, 2023 19:02:09 GMT by hati |
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Post by moss on Jan 10, 2024 1:41:33 GMT
Minkstar.
Minkstar, as the moons had passed, had settled into her new place within Shoreclan. She had grown accustomed to the name ‘Minkstar,’ as opposed to ‘Minknose,’ a moniker that had been with her for so long, through so many of life’s trials and tribulations. In the morning hours of the day, when not busying herself with other duties, Minkstar sometimes took it upon herself to patrol — alone — using such a thing as an excuse to be within her own mind for a bit, and away from the hustle and bustle and constant things needing her attention within the Shoreclan camp.
However, her moments to herself were seemingly interrupted.
And it was not the scent of a stranger that caught her attention first, a fact for which Minkstar mentally kicked herself.
No, it was the sight of an unfamiliar pelt, lurking atop the cliffside, peering down towards the ocean below. Minkstar narrowed her eyes slightly. She’d long since become somewhat familiar with the rogues and loners that frequented the area, sometimes daring to trespass beyond Shoreclan’s borders. Most were largely harmless, but not all. This pelt — this she-cat — however, was unfamiliar even amongst the strange faces that sometimes found themselves trespassing. A thousand unknown factors ticked through Minkstar’s mind as she paused her steps, crouching down slightly to allow her brown tabby pelt to blend in amongst the sparse foliage.
Slowly, the Shoreclan leader straightened herself, puffing out her chest slightly, while willing her short, thick fur to puff up to give herself just a little more size in appearance. She approached on silent paws, observing the loner’s body language as she did so. The she-cat didn’t seem aggressive, but then again, Minkstar was pretty sure that she was not yet detected by the other. As she came within a reasonable speaking distance, her voice rose above the whistling of the wind rolling in off the waves, and pummeling against the cliffside.
“You there — who are you?” Minkstar asked — no, her voice was a demand, a quiet warning that the other was on claimed territory, whether she knew it or not.
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WRITTEN:50 posts
TAG:@hati
Post by hati on Jan 11, 2024 18:47:11 GMT
Tiger remembered staring down at the foaming base of a waterfall, and watching as water and spray leapt and raged around darker, flatter rocks. She remembered much of what that sight had brought her, too—amazement the first time; horror the last, when her brother had been lost—and she found it easy to draw a parallel between those distant memories and this new moment laid quite literally at her paws. There was an unexpected familiarity hovering in that dancing foam and those jagged stones – but at the same time the scene was very different to any that she had seen before. There was a crashing of water below, yes, but no silvery sheet roaring down the cliff, and whilst there was spray and foam it moved quite differently to any other she recalled. It flowed in eddies and swirls in a rhythm that was mesmerising, somehow, tugging her eyes from the rocks and holding them upon the waters: dragging her gaze out and out and out to a distant blue horizon.
Slowly, Tiger sank back onto her haunches: claws still clinging to the earth even as her tail curled around her paws. She stared out at that horizon, eyes rounding as they took in the endless shifting blue: a rippling lake bigger than anything she'd ever known. It made her feel small, like Ice had done long before...and yet somehow without the fear that she'd been familiar with, as a paw, around that other form. It reminded her of when she'd been a kit, and everything had been wonderful and new, and she'd been dumb and naïve and thought anything possible, too. She wasn't sure what to make of those tangling towering feelings, but for now that seem curiously unimportant, paling beneath the mesmerising movements of the waves below, and the breath-taking vastness of the blue.
Tiger let her eyes roam across that impossible incomprehensible scene, parting her jaws to drink in its strange scent and perking her ears to soak up the wind and water's unfamiliar chorus.
'You there—'
The she-cat startled, launching to her paws and twisting about in an instinctive flurry – bristling as a paw slid; scraping empty air. She jerked forwards, claws scouring the rocky earth as fear pulsed in her chest, and lips curling at the voice and sight of an unknown cat. Her tail lashed—once; sharply—as her weight slammed through and wrenched at her shoulders, tugging a hot haze of pain across everything else.
She growled, low and warning; telling the world she would always, always fight.
She paused, standing stiff and proud a mouse hop from certain death and staring the stranger down.
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Post by moss on Jan 15, 2024 11:31:44 GMT
Minkstar.
Minkstar, even from a young age, had been educated about the dangers of the water — it could be life-giving, if one knew how to operate around it correctly, could sustain the clan even in the harshest Leafbare moons, if only cats knew how to respect it. But, there were two sides to every stone, so to say, and she knew that while it could be life-giving, it could also be life-threatening in the same easy motion if one wasn’t aware of what they were doing. Even as a kit, she had been warned to always be aware of her paws within the water, to understand the pull and tug of the currents beneath the surface. She was not like the fish that lived beneath the surface — she could not breathe within the water — and so, she had been taught to always be aware of her surroundings and the feel of the water when interacting with it.
As she watched the stranger, Minkstar wondered if the other had received the same warnings, as she could see some unknown memories flickering across the other tabby’s features, even from this distance.
Minkstar spoke, not intending to startle the other she-cat, but ultimately that was the response that she got. After all, the wind was in her favor, as it rushed in from far out at sea, whipping up over the cliffside, and towards Minkstar herself, rather than carrying her scent to the unknown she-cat. She saw a paw touch empty air, and for a moment her heart lept — she hadn’t meant the startle the other, and by Starclan she hadn’t meant to almost send the other to her death!
She moved forward a couple of steps, ready to leap forward and grab for the other if need be if she began to lose her balance anymore. Minkstar’s pupils shrank with a small burst of fear. As the other tabby she-cat regained her composure — and didn’t take a tumble off the cliffside to certain doom. The other, and perhaps rightfully so, bristled and growled. Minkstar looked at her, unphased now that she wasn’t convinced that the other was going to slip backward off the cliff face that she stood almost too precariously on. There was a moment of silence, as Minkstar watched the other a little longer before she repeated her question.
“Who are you?” The Shoreclan leader asked, her voice a demand, but nothing quite so sharp as it perhaps would have once been — she wasn’t trying to be territorial, but rather, she was making an attempt at being diplomatic and curious about the stranger before her. Besides, aside from the clear trespassing, she hadn’t seen the other commit any offense that would warrant hostility. As far as Minkstar could truthfully tell, the other had only been watching the sea. There was no harm in it — really — and she couldn’t blame a loner for doing such a thing when she had probably never seen such vast waters in her life.
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WRITTEN:50 posts
TAG:@hati
Post by hati on Jan 15, 2024 19:36:51 GMT
Tiger could barely think in those first wrenching moments, whilst the pain in her shoulder and fear in her chest clanked harshly together; clouding her mind. Tiger could barely think – and so she didn’t think, not truly, instead allowing herself to be driven by experience and instinct and more than a little training. It was those things that dragged her back from the cliff edge and saved her from the fall, and it was those, too, that drew the growl to her throat and pulled her muscles taut. But it was also those things that brought about her pause, keeping her from springing even as the wilder part of her demanded that she meet this stranger with claws.
She was better than that.
Fighting was what she was for, but the drop yawned wide and ravenous right behind her, and the stranger before her was not charging her, and she was tired and injured and, above all, not a savage fool. It was a flimsy defence, that line between mindless aggression and more merciful reason, but it caught her and it held her right there on that edge, restraining her until her heart began to settle and the pain began to ebb. After that it began to be possible to think, and Tiger thought: the stranger had called to her instead of simply shoving her. The stranger had jerked towards her as if alarmed by her stumble. The stranger, even now, was just watching her, showing no sign of aggression.
Tiger knew that these things could mean nothing at all, but her growl quieted and silenced all the same, leaving them to a moment’s hush whilst they eyed each other’s frames. Then the other she-cat spoke, dropping a question into the whistling wind.
Tiger eyed her counterpart unblinkingly, an ear twitching as she wondered at those chosen words. It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked that, through her aimless wanderings, but it was unusual enough to be striking, and it wasn’t common from a cat like this one, who stood as if they owned the land beneath their paws. When it did come from a cat like this one, it was often no more than a precursor: snapped out a beat before the asker lashed out with teeth and claws. Her counterpart showed no inclination towards that, for now, but Tiger knew that behaviour could be meaningless, for not everyone gave warning before…
Still, a question had been asked of her – and with a cat in front of her and a Drop behind, she really had no choice but to respond.
“I am no one,” Tiger grumbled: a trained answer that had gained deeper meaning since she’d been driven from her home. She’d just been a Claw, there. Now? Less. But she was alive, and survival was a hard habit to break, so she stepped slowly sideways, eyes never leaving the stranger’s face. Her paws traced the ravenous cliff edge expertly, remembering the deep chasms in her birthlands as they guided her along the rocky lip: tugging her step by step until she could prowl forwards without getting any closer to the other cat. Only then did she pause again, solid earth behind her and the Drop beside her: divided from her by a comfortable buffer of sloping rock.
“This is your land?” It was a question rolled into a statement, and the tabby watched the stranger all the more intently as she spoke it: aware that, now she was on firmer ground, she might soon have to ward of an attack.
LAST EDIT: Jan 15, 2024 19:37:18 GMT by hati |
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Post by moss on Jan 29, 2024 1:51:39 GMT
Minkstar.
Minkstar could see that the tabby she-cat was both in pain and fearful at the moment. One of Minkstar’s ears flickered backward, a quiet expression of concern for the other — if she was wounded, Minkstar could take her to the medicine cat for some healing, if the other would accept as much. But, in terms of the fear, Minkstar found that to be rather normal for a loner. They were a fearful bunch, in Minkstar’s experience, and if she had been a loner, she would have had much the same reaction to a stranger approaching her, in a world so cold and cruel, where you could trust no one.
Although Minkstar did not miss the growl, she did not acknowledge it with her own reaction beyond the subtle stiffening of her own shoulders. She was not here to fight this loner, but if the other came at her with claws unsheathed, then Minkstar would prove herself worthy of her title through the motion of her own claws and fangs.
In the silence that stood between them, Minkstar began to wonder what experiences in life had shaped this she-cat into the edgy thing that she was. Looking her over, it was little question that she had seen her fair share of fights, felt the rend of flesh to claws. Minkstar knew her own pelt bore the example of her life as a warrior of Shoreclan, so in that regard, the two were somewhat matched.
“I am no one,” the strange she-cat said. Minkstar only blinked. The other began moving, and almost as if in a choreographed dance, Minkstar positioned herself to where she was always facing the other head-on, never letting her side be towards the stranger — it was too easy to attack from that angle, it was much harder to come at someone who was facing towards one, when the risk of claws could easily become present in the mix, rather than an ambush situation.
“This is your land?” The other asked.
“Somewhat — I am the leader of the group that lives here,” Minkstar explained, still eyeing the other. “I am not going to attack you unless you attack me first. You set the tone for this chance encounter.” Minkstar stated, her words a cautionary tale in their own right, a quiet promise that she could defend herself if need be, but also plainly stating that she was not going to be the aggressor here.
“You came from the south?” Minkstar asked, flicking her tail in the direction that the other she-cat’s flank was now toward to indicate which direction she meant.
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WRITTEN:50 posts
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Post by hati on Jan 30, 2024 18:37:55 GMT
The other she-cat moved with her, matching her pawstep for pawstep and never giving Tiger her flank. The tabby might have been annoyed by that, had she been looking for an opening to attack, but as it was the movements only gathered a deeper weariness around her, waring her to keep back. The stranger was being sensible, in mirroring her so, but she'd also betrayed a little of herself in the act, revealing that she had experience: that she knew how to guard herself against other cats.
Note everyone had that sense - and not everyone did it so smoothly, either.
Absently, Tiger wondered if someone had taught her. Outwardly, she let her clawtips pierce the ground beneath her: issuing a silent warning even as her muscles tensed beneath her pelt. The message was quiet but clear: if she had to fight, then she would fight - but it seemed, for now, that she needed warning only, for though the stranger stood strongly before her she also kept her distance, showing no signs, yet, or impending attack. In fact the other cat barely showed any aggression at all, instead addressing her as if they were allies and not separated by a gulf of unknowns.
Tiger wasn't sure what to do with that. Tiger wasn't sure she trusted that, either, so she narrowed her eyes and wrapped herself in subtle threats, watching for the first hostile little twitch. But she listened, too, and as the stranger mentioned a group she shifted restlessly, wariness jerking within her like a hook.
'I'm not going to attack you unless you attack me first.'
"So you say," Tiger grumbled, parting her jaws on the tail of the answer: dragging in a quick deep breath of the chill air in an effort to discern the truth. The stranger might attack at any moment. The stranger might be another lying longer. The stranger might, as she claimed, head a group. Tiger had little way of knowing, as it stood, and with the wind whistling in from behind her, thick with the smell and taste of unknown water, it was impossible for her to fish out the scent of the cat before her or to draw forth the clues it might hold. All she could do was lean on what she could see, and that was rarely good.
It did, however, make her options somewhat simpler.
The tabby closed her jaws with a quiet snip, knowing she should do what she could to avoid a fight with this cat - especially if she might have allies lurking near. That meant giving answers, for now, so she muttered a reluctant "yes," and grazed her gaze quickly over the stranger's head, trying to discern what might hide behind her. The look was fleeting and swift, telling her little of use, and her eyes were back on her counterpart within a matter of moments. Tiger eyes the other cat for the space of a heartbeat, then spoke again, dredging up the words that might keep the stranger's claws sheathed.
"I'm passin' through. Be gone by—dusk." Her tail tip twitched at her own hesitation—at the need to travel still longer, when she needed to rest her body and mind and shoulder—and she wondered if the timeframe would be enough. She wondered how big the stranger's territory was; what lay beyond it; whether this cat would accept her words, or try to drive her back the way she had come.
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Post by moss on Feb 2, 2024 23:32:04 GMT
Minkstar.
Minkstar watched every small movement that the stranger made, catching onto every subtle cue that was given to her so willingly. The other, despite how fluid she tried to make her movements did favor one of her front legs, solidifying the fact that had been laid out so cleanly only a few moments before. The other was injured — perhaps something old that was acting up, or some new wrench, but injured nonetheless. Part of her wanted to send the loner on her way, to avoid any trouble that she may dredge along with her, but another, perhaps a larger part, too, of Minkstar wanted to help the other. However distrustful Minkstar could be, she could not, in her right mind, turn an injured cat away to face the threats of life alone. There was safety in the number of claws that could be unsheathed, after all.
“So you say,” the other grumbled. Minkstar couldn’t help the small huff of a laugh that puffed out of her nose.
“If I was going to attack you, I would have done so the moment I realized you were favoring that one leg of yours,” Minkstar commented, a quiet way of saying ‘yes, I noticed.’ She had always been an observant cat, but since becoming the leader of Shoreclan, she had gotten even more so, because a simple miss could spell disaster for the clan if she was not careful.
“Yes,” the strange she-cat answered.
“Then you traveled all that way, without realizing you crossed a border?” Minkstar asked. “You must be travel weary to not notice that.” She said, although she could not truthfully blame the other cat. She looked worse for wear, to state it simply, Minkstar was sure that her mind was probably not working at its sharpest.
“I’m passin’ through. Be gone by — by dusk,” the other said. Minkstar allowed her gaze to travel slightly to both sides, looking towards Orchid clan in one direction, and towards Galeclan in the other.
“Either way, you are on claimed territory. That way —” she flicked her tail, “--- lies Orchidclan. And that way lies Galeclan.” Her tail twitched quickly in the other direction. “And that way… is back through Shoreclan territory.” There was a heavy silence for a moment before Minkstar continued on. “If you are bent on leaving the territory, I will escort you. Otherwise… I would suggest you come rest in our camp, and let our medicine cat look at that shoulder before you continue on your journey.” There were options, of course, but at this point going any direction — save for off the cliff — alone was not one of them.
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WRITTEN:50 posts
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Post by hati on Feb 7, 2024 19:14:31 GMT
‘If I was going to attack you, I would have done so the moment I realised you were favouring that one leg of yours,’ the stranger stated, her voice so calm—so matter of fact—that she might just as well be saying that the sky was blue and stars came out at night. Tiger bristled the moment she heard ‘favouring that one leg,’ her fur rising like a flock of quills down the full length of her spine, and a fresh growl spilling from her throat. She shifted her weight at the same moment, planting herself fully on both forepaws—never mind the biting ache—and, inside, rippling with resentment that an unknown cat had seen her pain so easily. When had she grown so weak? Back home, cats might have seen the blood, but they would never have seen that the claws had sunk deep. She would never have let them see, and they would have scorned her if she had.
Out here, it was worse. Out here, a slip like that could see a cat at her throat.
That was what drove the she-cat as she snapped back “I could still rip the pelt from your back—” her voice hard as the rocks around them; sharp as spikes of ice. That was what drove her to stand firm before her counterpart, eyes slits and body drawn tall and muscles pulled taut for a fight. She was clanless, but she was still a Claw, and she would not seem weak in any cat’s eyes.
“Maybe I don’t care there was a border—”
It wasn’t quite a lie. It was rash, anger and exhaustion eroding her senses enough to let her snap what she knew she ought not, but it wasn’t quite a lie. Loners and scrawny bands scattered their borders everywhere, so, though she hadn’t noticed the latest, she might not have paid it much mind even if she had. You couldn’t get anywhere by skirting every scentline, and it wasn’t like any of them were the—
…Clan’s.
Tiger froze, her growl stuttering and a single tattered ear folding back as the words Orchidclan, Galeclan, Shoreclan, rattled through her mind: echoed back.
There was only one clan.
The clan: the Chosen Cats, served by their Claws and Fangs.
…Right?
Tiger stared at her counterpart across a chasm of sucking silence, the earth suddenly unsteady beneath her; the breath too loud in her ears; bewilderment, and a shard of betrayal, flashing in her eyes. There was only one clan, and yet this cat had used those names so easily, claiming that word as if she’d done so every day of her life. How could that be, so far from home? How could that be—?
“…Your name.” Tiger rasped at last, the ferocity of her gaze overcast by kittish uncertainty: the hard planes of her voice cracked and folding. “What is it?”
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Post by moss on Mar 14, 2024 17:17:29 GMT
Minkstar.
In the face of the strange she-cat’s ire, Minkstar kept her features placid, and unconcerned. Her only indication of thought was the slight cant of her head. Internally, Minkstar snorted. The she-cat was cocky, there was no doubt about it, but at the end of the day, a wounded cat was little trouble for someone healthy. Minkstar, however, would not allow herself to get sucked into the folly of thinking that the she-cat presented no threat at all — after all, a wounded cat still has claws.
“Hm, while I’m sure you believe your threat, I am simply putting down a boundary,” Minkstar commented with a twitch of her ear that betrayed only a little annoyance at the she-cat’s rudeness. “But you should care that you crossed the border. Not every cat will be as hospitable towards strangers as I am. Nor will every leader be quite as tolerable of such an affront.” The Shoreclan leader flicked her tail from side to side for a small moment.
She tilted her head farther to the side at the age-cat’s question — well, mostly the tone of her voice. She sounded both curious, and as if the ground beneath her paws had suddenly lurched to the side. There was a note to it that made Minkstar curious herself, about this strange she-cat. Where did she come from? She was not local, that much Minkstar could deduce, for all the local loners, rogues, and kittypets knew of the three clans — it was not as if their existence was a particularly new thing, it had seen the span of a few generations, although not so far removed that there were not cats alive still that had known the three original founders.
“Minkstar,” she answered, wondering where this conversation may lead.
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Post by hati on Mar 16, 2024 12:09:35 GMT
She told herself it didn’t matter what the stranger’s name was: that it made no difference, for she was a long way from her one-time home and there was no way, none at all, that it could be as she’d briefly thought. She’d misheard, she was sure: clan did not feature in those three strange names, and this was not some foreign clan cat, and there was no clan but the one she had been forced to leave. There were no others, and this was just the work of her pain and an over-tired mind: a terrible dream.
Tiger told herself that, but she couldn’t quite make herself believe it. Uncertainty and doubt crowded within her mind, squatting determinedly and refusing to leave. Perhaps, had she been rested, she might have batted both aside with ease, but as it was she could only look helplessly on in the face of them, waiting for the answer that might let her best them. So important was that answer in that moment that she did no more than flash a vague hint of tooth at her threat’s easy dismissal, hardly caring how quickly she was doubted, nor for the warning that followed. No one was hospitable: that warning scarcely mattered, but the name—
‘Minkstar.’
Tiger flinched as if struck, the breath going out of her.
Star. This cat claimed herself a leader, and spoke of a clan, and was a Star. Every leader of Tiger’s own lost clan had been a Star, she knew—along with their chosen heir—and Stars were to be obeyed without question, always, especially by cats like her. It was the first thing the clan taught them, and she’d been faithful to it every moment she’d been with them, knowing the Star to be the very greatest of the clan’s Chosen. But a Star had also betrayed her, casting her out rather than let a Claw rise above their station, and a Star should not be found here, so far away from them. A Star should not be found here, talking of another clan – let alone three of them.
What did it mean?
Tiger sank slowly onto her haunches; unconsciously; an overgrown kitten lost where no one could find them. Tiger stared back at the stranger, her claws biting the earth deeply in an effort to anchor her. “There can’t—” she paused, the rasped denial dying in her maw as she stared back at this unknown Star, reading the confidence within her. There was no trace of a lie in the steady gaze coming back at her; no fumble or uncertainty in the way the stranger had spoken; nothing at all to betray the trick Tiger so wished for. “I ‘ave…not ‘eard of others…”
The tabby trailed off again, at a loss: her broken world scattered around her.
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Post by moss on Mar 21, 2024 13:23:43 GMT
Minkstar.
While Minkstar did not understand the full weight that her revelation carried with the wounded she-cat, she could see that something had struck the other harder than any paw with claws outstretched could. The wind was audibly knocked out of the other. The Shoreclan leader kept her responses in check, her expressions guarded as the other seemed to be processing some sort of internal turmoil that had overcome her.
“There can’t —” the she-cat started, her voice almost a strangled rasp. “I ‘ave… not ‘eard of others.” Minkstar allowed her head to cant ever so slightly to the side, a fractional movement that showed only minimally her internal considerations.
Had this she-cat come from another clan? One not around the three?
It wasn’t impossible, by any means, Minkstar recognized. It wasn’t as if the idea of a clan was something particularly unheard of. Groups lived together all the time, there was benefit and safety in numbers. But the startled expression of the she-cat made Minkstar wonder what she knew of clans.
“I suppose the concept of a group living together isn’t unheard of,” Minkstar commented. “We work together and support each other. There is safety in numbers. Here, the three original founders made their own groups. Shorestar started Shoreclan. Orchidstar started Orchidclan. Galestar started Galeclan.” ‘Why am I telling her all this? Minkstar wondered. “I am the leader of Shoreclan, as I told you before. You… seem to have experience with Clans. Did you come from one?” It was a personal, prodding question that Minkstar didn’t truthfully expect a real answer to.
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Post by hati on Mar 24, 2024 12:20:29 GMT
The word ‘others’ fluttered in her head like a bird with a broken wing, echoing back at her and shredding her certainty—her world—into ever thinner ribbons. The feeling was similar to her banishment, in some ways, carrying with it the same heart-shattering shock and mind-numbing pain, and coaxing a horrified piece of her into demanding that she hissed; that she snarled; that she denied with every fragment of her being. But it was a small part, that piece: a jagged cutting shard that was silenced by the stark truths laid out before her, and a deep understanding that this thing could not be changed.
There could not be other clans, she knew, but the Star before her was watching her just as calmly as had her own Star in the heartbeats after her banishment – and before that still-agonising moment, she had never dreamed that she would, whilst still healthy, be tossed away. It was a spectre of that same moment, this, missing only the faces of other cats to drive the claw in deeper, and she was wise enough to see the truths even as she reeled from everything they contained.
Even then, this Star was strengthening and adding to those unwanted revelations, amber eyes pinning her as her head fractionally angled. Tiger took in both but couldn’t read either, and she wondered, dimly, if that was because of her own turmoil or because her counterpart was simply that closed: that guarded. It hardly mattered. What mattered was that the stranger’s look and gesture confirmed that she truly believed the words she’d spoken, and as the Star spoke again that certainty only stamped itself harder. Tiger didn’t know why Minkstar was still talking to her—her own Star would have had a stranger torn apart by now, if they hadn’t sense enough to leave—but that didn’t matter in the face of these three clans, these three Stars, these three things that shouldn’t exist.
‘You…seem to have experience with clans. Did you come from one?’
No, Tiger wanted to snap at her. No, she came from The Clan, the only one - but her certainty in that sat huddled like that broken-winged bird, open-beaked and wheezing from the strain of getting back off the ground. It couldn’t stand steady within her tired and battered mind, in the face of this cat or those words, so she swallowed back the denial and sank to her belly; claws leaving long scores in the rocky earth. She stared half blankly at the cat before her, unknowingly wilting beneath all the pressures that had built upon her, and, for the moment, more helpless than she’d been since she was a naïve little paw.
But she was faced with a Star, and Stars were not to be ignored
It was that knowledge that stirred her, and at last she managed a raspingly miserable “…yes;” the word in itself an admittance that her own clan had lied: that the truth as she’d known it lay in ruins about her paws. Maybe, had she been fit and rested, she could have clung to her knowledge of the one clan, but in the moment she simply hadn’t enough power. In the moment she could only watch this impossible Star, the lingering fire in her gold eyes dimmed as she waited, silently, for the next blow to crash upon the fragments of her life.
LAST EDIT: Mar 24, 2024 12:25:27 GMT by hati |
writer, artist, mediocre coder
GROUP:Leader
WRITTEN:162 posts
TAG:@moss
Post by moss on Mar 30, 2024 1:37:20 GMT
Minkstar.
Minkstar did not understand why the other seemed to fall deeper and deeper into some dark chasm, to fall into a mental pit of despair so harshly that, as she sank onto her belly, seemed physically dragged down by some revelation. There was no mistaking it as relief of any sort — no, Minkstar could recognize that something within the other had been fundamentally shattered. She felt a slight wave of discomfort at the fact that that collapse had been brought on by her own words. How could she have known that whatever revelation had been given would be so world-breaking to the other? Would she have kept the truth of the matter to herself, had she known? Probably not, in some way, had Minkstar known, she would have seen it as her duty to break the violent bonds that held the other she-cat by the throat.
But she did not know.
There was no way that she could know, just yet.
“... yes,” the word was rasped out as if it were the final jerk of the head from the vital tube of the throat in a bloody battle. It was the sound of a worldview shattering, that much Minkstar could realize. She felt pity for the she-cat, but she dared not show it, the other had made her pride evident within seconds of their meeting — she would not want pity placed upon her shoulders, especially not by a stranger, Minkstar could assume.
“This… all seems very difficult for you to process,” the leader commented calmly. “Shock is not good for anyone… Why don’t you allow our medicine cat to give you some herbs? And, if you are not opposed to it, to tend to your wounds. They should not be allowed to fester, and you could use a good night’s sleep to get your strength back.” She offered, giving the other full choice over what happened next — she did not want to force help on someone who did not want it.
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WRITTEN:50 posts
TAG:@hati
Post by hati on Mar 30, 2024 11:35:21 GMT
Dimly, Tiger wondered what that next blow would be, and what it might do to the ruins that were her understanding of the world. Vaguely, she wondered if the next strike might be a physical one: an overdue lashing from the other cat’s claws. That seemed the most likely follow-up, given that she was on Clan land and beneath the eyes of a Star, but the tabby could not seem to muster up the outwards readiness—the steadfastness—that she knew that she ought. Her counterpart’s revelations weighed upon her too heavily for her to dredge up much at all, and so she crouched there: as meek and helpless as a freshly-whipped paw.
She crouched there; watching; waiting for the claws to fall.
They did not.
It took her longer than it should have to realise that no trace of hostility had yet crept into the other she-cat: longer than it ought to for her to realise that the Star was talking, again, and for the words in her ears to begin to make any sense. Even then that understanding was a fragile thing, shaken by the talk of medicine and herbs and tending: leaving her staring blankly as the words fought their way in. A silence stretched between them as the Star finished, and Tiger lay still as stone where she was as her exhausted reeling mind picked over the pieces, fighting to grasp what had been laid at her paws.
She didn’t know what a ‘medicine cat’ was.
Slowly, she gathered up ‘shock’ and ‘herbs’ and ‘wounds’ and wrestled them into healer; wondered if it was this of which the Star talked; wrinkled her nose, fractionally, as she made out the shape of the offer. Only then did her stare shift, blankness giving way to incredulity and thorn-sharp bewilderment as she halfway grasped that she was no on the cusp of being clawed up and chased off, but was instead being offered help. More than that, it was a healer’s help, offered by a cat who should want nothing more than to see her gone.
Tiger could no more understand this than any of the revelations that had come before. It stirred her, however, pushing a bewildered “…why?” from her jaws and stirring up the barest shade of her wariness; a glimmer of suspicion; a thorn of scepticism. Healers were not for Claws, not ever, and they certainly weren’t for strangers, either, and there was no reason that this foreign Star—or any Star—should care what happened to her. And yet here one was, making her an offer even her own would not have given her.
“Why…’elp? A stranger?”
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