|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:12:34 GMT -8
❄ Post 001 - Stolen ❄ Post 002 - Firsts ❄ Post 003 - I'm Not too Good to Say I Hate You ❄ Post 004 - Take Care of Yourself ❄ Post 005 - Happiness Can Hide Things ❄ Post 006 - Consequences Follow Your Actions ❄ Post 007 - Kits, Kits, and More Kits! ❄ Post 008 - The Little Adventurer ❄ Post 009 - Regret ❄ Post 010 - Saxifragepetal's Promotion ❄ Post 011 - New Names ❄ Post 012 - A Warning ❄ Post 013 - Mistakes, Mistakes, and More Mistakes ❄ Post 014 - Previous Fears ❄ Post 015 - Imagine if Happiness Could Be Achieved ❄ Post 016 - The Pain of the Past ❄ Post 017 - The First Fatality ❄ Post 018 - Are We Sure It Was An Accident? ❄ Post 019 - Grief Calls to Grief ❄ Post 020 - Fear Strikes Deep
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:14:59 GMT -8
❄ Post 001 - Stolen
Moose could feel the soft breeze ruffling her thick, gorgeous pelt as she strutted along the small twoleg path that wound neatly around the den. She kept her muzzle high and sniffed, her small pink nose and dainty whiskers quivering at the small twitch. Her routine was mapped out neatly in her mind, down to the very words she would say throughout the day to the other cats who lived around her. With a happy purr, she pushed off with strong hind legs and landed gracefully on the lowest branch of a tree. She wrapped her thick, feathery tail around her silverly paws and proceeded to groom herself extensively. Clumps of her shedded fur fell down like snowflakes, dancing through the air until they dropped lightly onto the ground until they were whisked away by the wind on some grand adventure. For all Moose cared, her fur could go on a journey without her; she had the perfect life here. “Good morning, Moose!” came a familiarly cheery voice from below. She paused her grooming and had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Spot, the black and white tom who belonged to the twolegs in the next den over, was staring up at her from the ground earlier than normal. She shook out her beautiful pelt, one that all the twolegs and cats around her admired, and then jumped down to the ground to flick her tail across Spot’s multi-colored nose. Her pelt was a blend of silver, pale ginger, and white in patches all around her. Most noteably was the tiniest ginger patch right above her nose on an otherwise white muzzle. “Well, I thought I’d stop by a bit earlier today since my twolegs are in a rush to leave. Seems like we’re going on a trip!” Spot purred, unable to take his eyes off of Moose. Ugh, toms. She thought to herself while keeping her shy smile plastered onto her face like a mask. “Now, Spot, you know I have a schedule to keep,” she chided, knowing she should be visiting Misty very soon. “Go beg for some scraps while I follow my schedule as you’ve already interrupted my grooming time. You’re nearly into the time I spend with Misty, and you know how cranky dear old Misty gets when I’m not on time!” her voice chirped in a laugh as she gently pressed her nose to his and then leaned back. Spot grinned and then turned around to dash off to his twolegs side like the pathetic kittypet Moose knew him to be. “He’s one of my easier ones to control,” she laughed softly to herself before she leaped across the larger twolegpath towards yet another nest. She reached the entrance then let out a loud yowl. A larger shortfurred grey molly pushed her way out of a nearby bush and snarled. “Moose! Have you got bees in your brain or are you wanting to attract my twoleg’s attention?” Misty grumbled, sitting down and huffing from the short travel across the yard. She was heavily pregnant, due any day really, and Moose purred as she rubbed against her mother. “I know you’re glad to see me, doll, but can you let me be for a few days until your siblings are born? Sometimes I wish I never decided to have another litter after you,” Misty groaned and pulled her shoulders high, stretching without really moving. Moose just purred and nuzzled Misty again, which received a half-hearted attempt of biting her ear. “You know, Misty, I could just disappear from my twolegs for a few days and help you out until they arrive,” Moose offered, but Misty just spat at the ground and flattened her ears. “O-Okay,” the silver calico stuttered, taking a step back from her cross mother. She remembered the last time Misty had been pregnant, and it wasn’t much different. The closer she got to the due date, the meaner and nastier she got. That didn’t stop Moose from her daily visit, though, since it gave her time to prepare before she charmed all the young toms that lived around her. “It’s about time to go see Spot, anyway, so I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called weakly as she dashed back to her own yard and away from Misty. Moose skidded to a halt, composed herself, and sashayed into Spot’s yard. He was sitting in his normal position with his typical goofy grin, and he leaped to his paws and loped to Moose’s side as soon as he spotted her. “I knew you weren’t angry with me!” he purred, rubbing his muzzle under her chin. Moose allowed his display of affection before stepping back and grooming down her ruffled pelt. “So how’d it go with Misty? Any kits yet?” he asked, eyes shining as brightly as the river nearby. Moose shook her head in response and then quickly ran her nose underneath his chin and licked his ear with a shy glance up out of the tops of her eyes. She curled her lip in disgust as Spot ignored her, so she playfully headbutted his shoulder and let out a kit-like giggle before batting her eyelashes up at him, only to receive the same response. “You little—” her voice was stopped as Spot shoved his short-furred tail into her mouth and gaped at the river. Waves crashed angrily at the banks, the water dark and menacing, and she could hear shouts from around the bend. She then noticed a large, colorful twoleg pelt running through the sky underneath which sat a long watermonster. “Vikings,” she whispered, flattening her ears and taking a step back in utter terror. Spot let out a low wail and pressed himself against her side, remembering the raid several moons ago in which they were able to hide before being stolen like all their other twolegs’ possessions. They were in the open, and there wasn’t any shelter at a distance they could run to without being spotted. Spot looked up at Moose and trembled, his breath coming in short shallow gasps as he tried to grasp what was about to happen. The shouts grew louder as large twolegs stormed through Spot’s twoleg’s nest and tossed things to the bank where other large twolegs then tossed them up into the water-monster. A shout grabbed Moose’s attention, and she saw one of the vikings pointing directly at her. Another shout was a response, and then large twoleg paws reached out to grab Spot. Moose turned and ran, her legs flying across the ground as she streaked towards a tree. Her legs were dragged out from underneath her as a twoleg paw wrapped tightly around her tail and pulled her backwards. She shrieked and twisted, slashing her claws at him, but he tucked her underneath one limb and held Spot tightly underneath the other. “Moose!” he screamed, “Do something!” Moose pinned her ears and held her tail close, thoughts spinning as the twoleg drew closer to the water. She thrashed and spun, trying to break free, but soon a thick mesh wrapped around her and separated her from Spot. “Moose!” he cried, trying to bite through the net as he was slung towards the watermonster. He was just short, and he slammed against the side before falling into the hungry waves below. He struggled to stay above the surface, screeching for help until Moose felt herself tossed towards the watermonster. Fearing the same fate as Spot, she tried to run the opposite way as she flew, but more twoleg paws wrapped around her and pushed her into a large container. She let out a pitiful mewl, and the twoleg faltered. She looked up at him the way she always did when she wanted her twoleg to feed her, and he dropped a slimy fish in beside her before the light cut out completely.
The overwhelming stench of fish made Moose sick to her stomach, not to mention the ceaseless rocking beneath her paws that sent her flying to one side of the container and then back to the other over and over again. She felt her earlier meal of fish threatening to make a reappearance, but she held it down and took in deep, gulping breaths. “You’re alive. You’re safe. You’re unhurt. You’re healthy,” she chanted to herself, hoping it would keep her calm. It didn’t. Her claws were practically splinters from being dragged across the container, and her paw pads were raw from trying to grip the rough material. She couldn’t see her pelt, but she still meticulously groomed it daily before one of the twolegs would open the top and toss in a small fish. The early morning fish and the late evening fish arrivals were her only glimpses of the outside world for what she guessed was a moon. She whimpered as she tried to peer through the darkness, fear controlling her actions as she pressed herself into the corner. “I want to go home,” she wailed, and a twoleg hit the top of the container with a yell. “I wonder if Misty has had the kits yet,” she whispered, beginning her daily conversation with herself. It was how she stopped herself from going insane. Bright light exploded into the container, and twoleg paws plucked Moose from her home and tossed her onto a cold shore. Snow crunched beneath her paws, and she jumped directly up in surprise and shock. When she’d left her home, it had been Greenleaf, the warmest season. Had she really been in the container for that long? Confused, she looked around and realized she recognized none of her surroundings. The snow was thin, and she could feel tiny shoots of grass trying to force their way to the sunlight beneath her paws, but mostly she just felt unending cold. Moose took the time to stretch each of her limbs and inspect her pelt before turning to see the twolegs too busy to notice her. “Now’s my chance,” she whispered underneath her breath, too used to speaking her thoughts out loud to stop now. She turned and ran, rushing through the snow and through the unending expanse of white. Her breath puffed in clouds around her, but she ran for what seemed like days. By the time she dared to slow down, she realized the sun was beginning to set. She shivered and fluffed out her pelt, feeling like she stood out against the pristine white snow. She remembered when she’d made her twolegs mad during a snowstorm once, and set to digging a hole in the snow. She pressed herself as deep into the hole as she could and let out a long sigh as she curled herself into a tight ball. Her eyes began to drift closed, and she could feel fresh snowflakes falling on her back. It was soothing almost, the faint sound of the ocean and the enveloping cold all around her. “I’m sorry, Spot,” she whispered, letting out a single breath and then falling into her dreams.
The coldness melted away as Moose’s eyes fluttered open to reveal a beautiful meadow. The grass was soft on her paws, and the sun shone brilliantly across the ground in arcing rays. She couldn’t help but stretch, breathing the warm scent of life deeply. As she straightened her spine and wrapped her tail neatly across her paws, a strange cat with no fur shimmered into life before. “Moose,” his voice was deep and booming, “Are you ready to accept your destiny?” The silver calico she-cat looked at the tom in wonder, and eight more cats formed an arc around him. “You have been brought to our former hunting grounds for a reason, Moose, and it is time you serve us. We are the gods and goddesses of this land, dwelling above, below, and among you. You can accept our kindness and become our messenger, or you can live alone on this freezing island until you are nothing but snow,” the cat’s voice was kind, but it was edged with a malice that even Moose was not willing to greet. “I will serve you,” she whispered, mew full of awe and wonder as she looked from cat to cat. Taking a deep breath, Moose watched as the gods and goddesses formed a circle around her and began humming. Moose was confused, but she didn’t dare take her eyes from the hairless cat who stood before her. “Today marks a day in history that shall not be forgotten,” his voice rose above the hums and seemed to fill the sky with his voice. “Moose is our chosen messenger, the cat who will connect the gods to the mortals. She has shown courage and leadership through her life, and I hereby grant her the life of leadership. May she use it well,” the cat stepped forward and pressed his nose to her. Moose’s eyes went wide and her claws dug into the soft earth as pain rocketed through her body. “The pain will only make you stronger,” he whispered, and he stepped into the circle of humming cats as a beautiful blackish molly with rosettes took his place. Moose’s legs were trembling, but she felt the calmness that surrounded this cat bring her strength. “Moose shall be the protector of these cats. She will lead them to war, but she will also be there to welcome every life into her protection. She will keep the harmony and balance of life by making sure that only creatures that will be eaten will be hunted. I give her a life of compassion,” the charcoal bengal’s voice was soft, barely audible above the humming. Moose flinched away from her as she reached her nose out, but then she leaned forward and accepted the life willingly. It was still painful, but nowhere near as much as the fire in the first life. This one drifted through her bones gently, still stinging, but as soft as a gentle summer breeze. The she-cat dipped her head and stepped back, only to be replaced by a ginger lykoi tom. “I give her a life of strength,” he snapped curtly, forcing his nose to hers. Moose was startled, the pain gripping each of her limbs until she felt she could no longer stand. When she opened her eyes, he was towering over her, his chest broad and limbs made entirely of muscle. Moose let out a soft whimper, terrified by the scars that crossed his face, and he just blinked, as if used to cats being frightened of his appearance. He huffed and joined the circle once more, his voice a deep bass, and watched as a longhaired snow bengal approached Moose. This cat’s steps were graceful and light, as if he were hovering above the ground and simply moving his legs to provide the illusion of walking. “Moose holds kindness in her heart, as well as loyalty. She has never left her mother’s side until we called her here, proving she can indeed truly love. I present to her a life of love.” This tom’s voice carried the same tone that Moose’s mother’s meow had. The pain of this life was stronger than any before, and the tom offered her a bright smile. “You’re halfway done,” he promised. Moose didn’t even notice him take his place in the circle until a solid cinnamon rex molly was towering over her with an evil grin. “I give this she-cat a life for facing her fears,” she said simply before forcing her nose against Moose’s with a quick chuckle. No pain accompanied this life, only the feeling that she was being watched and that small creatures were crawling across her skin beneath her pelt. Moose shuddered, digging her claws deeper into the dirt as the she-cat laughed and melted backwards into her former space. A tom with abnormally short legs and a fiery red pelt lifted Moose’s chin up with one paw and offered a small smile before beginning his speech. “Danger lurks around every corner, always threatening to harm anything in its way. I offer a life of good judgement,” his voice seemed to echo off of the ground and rang in Moose’s ears as their noses pressed together. She felt the life whisk through her, leaving her winded but with a clearer mind. She could see thorns lacing the ground outside the circle, threatening to draw blood from any paw that dared venture across. Her eyes seemed to notice every small detail, and yet she knew she needn’t do anything about it. She let out a sigh of relief as the ginger tom padded back and was passed by a mostly solid black she-cat. “Death is one of the most natural events of life, and so I give to you a life of embracing death,” the she-cat’s voice was a silky purr, and she was gentle as she pressed her soft black nose to Moose’s. Cool understanding reached all the way from her toes to her eartips, and she dipped her head respectfully. She paused as if she planned to say more, but then made eye contact with the first tom who had spoken and quickly hurried back to her former spot. Moose wanted to call out to her, to encourage her to speak, but she was weak enough that she wasn’t sure she could. She swallowed as a fawn point oriental approached her quickly, legs flying across the ground. “I present you with a life of swiftness,” she announced quickly, and Moose gasped as a cold deeper than the snow she had fallen asleep in forced its way through her body. The oriental quickly raced back to her spot, obviously uncomfortable being around Moose, and the last cat stepped forward. This cat was a blue somali that seemed to have lightning flickering in his eyes. “I present to you a life of,” his voice trailed off and he faltered, stumbling over his words. “A life of justice,” he finished, and pain brighter than the lightning she could see in his eyes flooded through Moose. The first tom took the last tom’s place and smiled as the humming ended. “I present to you Moosestar, founder of Katter av den Frosne Øya!”
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:18:11 GMT -8
❄ Post 002 - Firsts
“We can’t say we’re mates,” Birch snorted angrily, Sun looking up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t even try that, Sun. You know that such small groups don’t like accepting mates in the chance that the mates have kits any time soon. Most groups don’t like having the little ones around until they have several adult cats,” Birch recited what he’d heard countless cats say, and Sun pouted angrily. Birch sighed and rested his chin on Sun’s forehead, glad for once that he towered over his mate. He could feel Sun purring, and so he pulled away and looked at the steps down the side of the cliff face. “It looks like this is it,” Sun remarked and began bounding down the steps until a cave opening rose before him. Birch followed slower, giving his eyes time to adjust to the sudden darkness after the brinding brightness of outside. As the two toms entered, a beautiful molly dropped from a ledge up on the wall and arched her back, hissing as she glared at them. “We come in peace!” Sun yelped, backing up into Birch’s chest. The she-cat spat but let her fur lie flat before eyeing them both. She huffed and turned, leading them to the center of the cave and gesturing for them to sit. “I am Moosestar of Katter av den Frosne Øya. Please state your names and your business here,” she said formally, and Birch watched as Sun debated on bowing to her. Birch liked this molly for she radiated leadership, automatically forcing him to respect her without even knowing her. “I am Birch, and this is Sun. We seek refuge in your Clan, and in return we will do whatever duties you require of us,” Birch’s voice was clear with short syllables, making it clear that he wasn’t much of a speaker. Sun, however, was bouncing excitedly on his paws. Birch glared at his mate out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored Sun’s eagerness and turned back to face Moosestar. “I am assuming you expect to become warriors? That is simply not the case,” Moosestar snapped, her chin and nose in the air as she peered down at the sitting toms. “Here, we separate the hunters from the fighters, the jagere from the beskyttere. You two will both be lavere jagere from this moment on, and you will be known as Birchdapple and Sunglare,” Moosestar finished her ceremonial naming, and Birchdapple looked at Sunglare in surprise. How could such an excited, adorable tom receive the suffix of glare? Birchdapple just shook his head and gestured to the camp entrance. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the lay of the territory and scout out some places in which I could hunt,” Birchdapple was awarded with a nod from Moosestar, and so he ducked out into the snowy territory. It seemed to always snow here, and he wasn’t displeased more than he was annoyed. He shook snow clumps from his paws and dove deeper into the territory in search of prey.
Moosestar was dragging a clump of moss and feathers into her designated sleeping cave when she bumped into Sunglare. “Can I offer a helping paw?” he asked, and picked the other end of the clump up before he could gain a response from the dronning. Moosestar huffed as she dropped the bedding into the hollow she would sleep in, and then turned to glare at Sunglare. “I’m sorry to barge in, but I needed to speak with you in private. I came here because Coral sent me with a message,” he said, sitting down and staring Moosestar in the eye. “A message?” Moosestar prompted, and Sunglare nodded. She had met the nine main gods and goddesses during her nine lives ceremonies, but she hadn’t suspected a message this early in her leadership. “Spit it out, then!” she snapped, anxious to hear what Coral needed her to know. “The Clan needs to grow rapidly before Polarnatt,” Sunglare said simply, and Moosestar couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Cats will join in their own time,” she said, still chuckling as she thought about Coral wanting the Clan to grow big so early. “Trust me, having kattunge so close to Polarnatt is just a recipe for disaster. With no sunlight for moons, we’ll lose them in the caves as well as to freezing and starvation,” she remembered how Coral had explained how harsh Polarnatt would be. She let out one final chuckle before shaking her head. “You can tell Coral he’s feather-brained if he thinks I’ll have my cats have kattunge right now,” she said simply and turned to guide Sunglare away from her den.
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:19:30 GMT -8
❄ Post 003 - I'm Not too Good to Say I Hate You
Fog’s paws dragged through the knee-high snow as she tried to squint through the neverending white. She was wandering across the island when the winds kicked up and began howling while blowing snow in every direction. “Hello?” she called, her voice a hoarse scream to potentially be heard over the blizzard. “Hello!” she screamed again, and her paw struck something hard under the snow. She felt it move, and suddenly she was on her belly and snow was closing over the top of her. She panted to catch her breath, but a tail was forced between her teeth as an older molly hissed at her angrily. “Do you want to attract all the predators on the island?” hissed the stranger, and Fog felt her eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. The shape of a cat came into view, and she could see the alternating colors. “My name is Briar, not that it’s any of your concern. I didn’t want to have yet another cat’s blood on my paws, so here we are. You’ll go on your way, and I’ll go on mine, as soon as this blizzard blows over,” the torbie hissed quietly, the screaming wind seemingly blocked by the dome of snow over the tops of their heads. Fog felt her body give an involuntary shiver, and Briar scooted to press against the grey colorpoint. “My name is Fog. I’m searching for a cat named Moosestar,” she offered, and she felt Briar stiffen and then mutter something underneath her breath. “Great. Just great! That’s exactly who I’m looking for,” she snapped, and Fog flinched away from the anger that seemed to roll off of Briar in waves. The torbie continued to mutter under her breath until a sudden silence came over them. She rose to her paws, breaking the dome of snow over her back, shaking to send the snowflakes off her back in a shower. Fog rose as well, looking at how she seemed to tower over the smaller molly. “Follow me,” Briar snapped, and Fog obediently trudged through the snow after her. They reached a cliff, and Briar began expertly picking her way down, as if she had done it hundreds of times. She burst through a cave opening, Fog following much more slowly. Three cats were sitting in the center, talking quickly with their heads bent together. A silver caliby, obviously the leader, snapped her head up and glared at the newcomers. “Moosestar? I am Briar, and this is Fog. We have been sent by Coral to join your Clan,” Briar announced, and Fog looked at her in shock. Moosestar stalked across the cavern and stared Briar in the eye, her gaze fierce and unyielding. “You will address me respectfully, Briar. To you, I am Dronning Moosestar, founder of Katter av den Frosne Øya. For short, you may just call me Dronning Moosestar,” her lip curled angrily as Briar didn’t back down, neither lowering her gaze nor softening her stance. Moosestar just huffed, rolling her eyes before spinning around and taking a seat in the direct center of the cavern. “We gather here today to name new members of Katter av den Frosne Øya. Coral has so graciously sent us a Helbreder and our first Nedre Beskyttere! Briar, please step forward,” Moosestar announced regally. The torbie stepped forward, her head still eye as she stared down her nose at the Dronning. “You shall be known as Briarprickle, for your personality is as likely to hurt a cat as the plant you are named after,” Moosestar’s eyes twinkled, and Fog couldn’t help but notice how cruel she was being. “Fog, you shall be known as Rollingfog, first Nedre Beskyttere of Katter av den Frosne Øya. Sunglare and Birchdapple will happily show you both around the territory,” she meowed simply, waving her tail as two toms took her place. “I’m Sunglare!” one tom said brightly, and the other quickly shoved his shoulder against him. Sunglare coughed and shot a glare at his companion, but no true negative emotions were in his face. If Rollingfog could see any emotion, she nearly thought she recognized love. Rollingfog felt her eyes began to wander, following Moosestar closely until she disappeared into her den. “Well, where were we?” Sunglare meowed, clearing his throat. “This is Birchdapple, and we’ll show you around the territory! Follow us!”
Sunglare leaned against Birchdapple with a sigh, his head resting on Birchdapple’s shoulder. “These patrols are the ones I love the best,” he admitted, his mate turning and looking at him with wide eyes. Birchdapple’s gaze softened as he rested his chin on top of Sunglare’s head, sighing and returning his gaze to what was in front of him. “What… What’s that?” Sunglare’s voice faltered, and his eyes squinted as he spotted a young tom struggling through the snow. Birchdapple took off as fast as he could, soaring across the snow until his paws crunched to a stop and his teeth sank into the tom’s scruff. He pulled him to his paws, and the young tom looked up at his rescuer. “I’m Snakepaw,” his voice shook, and Birchdapple was shocked to hear a Clan name leave his mouth. “Are you Moosestar?” he asked, his body shivering. Sunglare reached the pair and immediately wrapped himself around Snakepaw. “Let’s take you to Moosestar,” he meowed, and began pushing the tom towards camp. The trio finally entered the welcoming warmth after walking for what seemed like days, and Snakepaw sighed happily. “Moosestar! We found this young cat!” Sunglare called, and the molly came and found them. “He says his name is Snakepaw, but that is all he’s saying,” the ginger and white tom meowed, and Moosestar just shook her head. “Snakes cannot live here, it is too cold for them. You are now Climbingpaw, Lærling to be trained by Sunglare,” she announced and then stalked off. Sunglare watched her go, and Climbingpaw turned to grin at him. Sunglare just shrugged and sighed. “I’ll show you the territory tomorrow. Get some rest,” he meowed, slipping towards the Lavere Jagere’s cave, to the nest he shared with Birchdapple.
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:27:02 GMT -8
❄ Post 004 - Take Care of Yourself
Moosestar sneezed violently, digging her claws into the ground as she hunched over and shook. Briarprickle clicked her tongue angrily and stalked across the den, pushing herbs towards the Dronning. “Moosestar, you have to take care of yourself,” she scolded, still refusing to call Moosestar by her full title. The molly turned her head and glared at the Helbreder. “You have no Hertuger or Hertuginne to run the Clan if you get sick or replace you if you die. You have to be careful, especially in Polarnatt,” she snapped, pointing towards the camp entrance that was dark. Polarnatt was several moons in which the sun didn’t rise, leaving the island in total darkness and made it much more dangerous to leave the camp. “I will not stand to be disrespected,” Moosestar snarled, raking her claws across the ground before coughing loudly. Briarprickle just shot a pointed glare across the cave and smirked, eyes twinkling as she pushed herbs across the ground. Moosestar looked between the herbs and the Helbreder multiple times before she leaned down and began eating them. “Moosestar, you are no longer allowed to leave the camp,” Briarprickle announced. “I’ve already told Sunglare, Birchdapple, and Rollingfog as much, and so they’ll be watching you. If you try to leave, you will be dragged back to your nest kicking and screaming. I will not risk the health of the Dronning,” she narrowed her eyes, and just laughed when Moosestar opened her mouth to protest but though better of it. The Dronning raked her claws across the ground and stalked out, her tail lashing back and forth as she hurried towards her nest.
“Every cat knows we’re mates, Birchdapple, so why can’t we have a litter of Kattunge?” Sunglare meowed, standing on his toes with big eyes as he begged his mate. Birchdapple huffed and sat back, sweeping his tail across the cave floor and kicking up a cloud of dust that swirled around him. “It’s Polarnatt, Sunglare. Having Kattunge while the sun isn’t even rising is wrong. It’s so cold, so imagine how the Kattunge would feel. Besides, what molly would willingly surrogate for us when the Clan is so small?” Waves of emotion poured through Birchdapple’s voice, and Sunglare felt his heart begin to fill with so much love that he pressed his muzzle and cheek against Birchdapple’s chest. “As soon as a few more mollies join, we’ll find a surrogate, I promise,” he rumbled, and Sunglare nodded through his fur. Rollingfog looked at the two with confusion, and then her face lit up. “I’d surrogate!” she chirped, and Sunglare jolted upright with a bright smile. Birchdapple narrowed his eyes and shook his head as Briarprickle shot across the cave and sank her teeth into Rollingfog’s ear. She half dragged, half led the molly into the medicine cave before spitting and shaking her head furiously. “It would catch Moosestar’s attention, and you know it!” Rollingfog muttered. “You don’t want to catch her attention! She’s a cruel molly who manipulates others,” the Helbreder snarled, but Rollingfog just curled her lip and turned away from her most recent friend. “It’s too cold to have Kattunge, and you know that. Doing it out of the kindness of your heart is one thing, but doing it to catch another cat’s attention is just wrong. You have to listen, Rollingfog,” Briarprickle practically begged, but the grey point molly turned her nose up and stalked out of the den. “I’ll surrogate for you!” she called, and Sunglare rushed up to her to thank her.
The blue classic tabby tom slid into the cave, the familiar scent of Moose surrounding him completely. “Moose!” he called crossly. “Moose!” He finally spotted her, slipping from one cave sleepily, and he quickly crossed the main cave in a few strides and smacked a paw across her muzzle. “How could you leave so suddenly? You have your mother worried!” he snarled, and the Dronning looked at him in surprise. “Blueberry? But… how?” she spluttered, stepping backwards and looking in multiple directions. “How did you find me? Those horrible twolegs forced me onto their water-monster and brought me to where the snow never melts. I’m beginning to think I’ll never see a field of green grass again,” she wailed, her voice growing desperate as she searched for an answer. Blueberry huffed, sitting his rear on the floor and patting the spot beside him with a paw. Moosestar sat beside him and leaned against him, suddenly grateful to see a familiar face. “Those twolegs that stole you stole me too. I was on that boat and saw you leave, but I couldn’t get out of whatever it was they put me in. Don’t get me wrong, they took care of me and fed me, but I knew I had to find you. You’re all I know in this place, and I was hoping I could stay with you,” he admitted, his voice kind and soft for the first time Moosestar ever knew. “So what is this place?” he quickly asked, turning his head to take the entire cavern in quickly. “I am now the Dronning of Katter av den Frosne Øya. I have several members already, Briarprickle, Rollingfog, Sunglare, Birchdapple, and Climbingpaw. You could become a Seniorjagere and spend your days hunting,” she offered, and Blueberry nodded slowly. “I’m glad you’re here,” she purred, rubbing her forehead against his cheek. Blueberry stiffened awkwardly, but he relaxed and leaned against Moosestar. “I’m here to watch out for you, like I know your mother would want me to,” he whispered, remembering his strong friendship with Misty.
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:28:56 GMT -8
❄ Post 005 - Happiness Can Hide Things
“You have to tell Moosestar to put you on lighter duties now that you’re pregnant,” Briarprickle meowed, running her paws across Rollingfog’s belly that would soon be rounded with Kattunge. Rollingfog rolled onto her back and lifted her head, looking at Briarprickle as she pressed her ear to her belly. “She may get her tail in a twist, but she’ll have to get over it. I’m the Helbreder and therefore have the right to put cats on light duties or take them off of duties completely,” the torbie snapped, and Rollingfog flinched away from her. “I need to show my Dronning that I’m strong,” Rollingfog whispered softly, her head hanging as she peered out of the top of her eyes towards the medicine den exit. She knew Moosestar was outside telling cats what time to go on patrol, and Rollingfog itched to be handed an assignment for the day. Briarprickle shook her head and pushed a few strength-giving herbs towards Rollingfog. “Why are you giving me these now? My belly isn’t even round,” she chuckled, pulling the herbs closer with a paw. “I want to see how they react to you. I’ve never given a cat strength herbs, and you don’t need them yet. Still, you might need them in the future so I want you to report back to me and tell me what effect they had on you,” Briarprickle meowed simply, as if it were a fact of life that Rollingfog was her test subject for any of her curiosities. Rollingfog rolled her eyes and dipped her grey muzzle to the ground, licking the leaves into her mouth. She squinted and resisted the urge to spit the sour, disgusting herbs out before swallowing and sticking her tongue out. “Tip one: they’re horrible!” the molly cried, and Briarprickle stifled a chuckle. The two had became fast friends despite their rocky start, and it was well-known that Rollingfog spent most of her free time in the medicine den with Briarprickle. The torbie and the point purred as they exited the den together, and then Rollingfog stumbled as her heart began racing. She met Moosestar’s piercing gaze, and her mouth went dry. She could barely think past the fact that she was about to speak to the Dronning, to her crush. “Moosestar!” Briarprickle called, her formerly warm voice turning cold as she approached the caliby that she very strongly disliked. Moosestar lifted her beautiful head and stared the Helbreder down, her eyes angling to show clear anger. “I have just confirmed Rollingfog to be pregnant, and so she needs to be put on lighter duties until I say she is to be taken off of duties completely,” Briarprickle explained, her voice monotone and emotionless. Moosestar’s eyes widened, and her lip immediately curled into a snarl. She closed the distance between herself and Rollingfog, forcing her nose into the pregnant molly’s face and growling. “You are to be taken off all duties immediately. You are no longer allowed to leave camp until after you have had the litter,” the Dronning snarled, and Rollingfog recoiled from her violently. Her breathing quickened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Moosestar stalked out of the camp with her tail lashing. Rollingfog turned to look at Briarprickle, her throat tight as she held back tears. “That didn’t go as planned, but you have to listen to her. You can help me sort herbs to pass the time,” the Helbreder offered kindly. Rollingfog nodded, following her friend across camp while her tail dragged across the ground. “Before you help, go let those toms know you’re expecting. I assume they’d like to know,” she chuckled, and Rollingfog nodded sadly, dragging her paws towards the den where the mates had their nests.
Francis padded into the den with his chest puffed out, his pelt meticulously cleaned to shine. Moosestar turned to look at him, but he paid her no attention. “You really should work on expanding into more caves. One deeper in the system could be potentially colder and better able to store prey for long periods of time. You also should put a covering over your nursery to help trap heat in as Kattunge, I believe that’s what you called them, aren’t as able to stay warm as an adult,” he meowed simply, licking his paw and drawing it over his ear. Moosestar looked at him and then raised her eyes to the sky. “Did you have to send me such an intelligent cat? I can think of one rank he would fit nicely in,” she meowed to the sky, and Francis just watched her. He knew of her beliefs, and he knew he would grow to understand them and take part in them as time passed. “Francis, from this day forward you will be known as Oystersnap. You have shown to be smart and patient, never losing your temper on the many tests I gave you on the way to my camp. I am the Dronning, and you are to be the first of my four Hertuger. You are to advise me, help assign patrols, and watch the camp when I am unable to,” she meowed, pressing her nose to his. “I am deeply honored, Moosestar,” Oystersnap meowed, his voice growing warmer as the few cats who lived in the Clan gathered around him and cheered. “I promise to live up to the expectations you have of me,” he promised, turning to stare at the small crowd. He smiled gently and began asking for their names, vowing to remember them and know each cat individually. He was gentle yet firm in his words, already displaying that while he was being friendly, he was to be respected. He knew Moosestar was young and hot-headed, but she was watching him. He only hoped she would learn a few things.
Moosestar rushed from the camp, fury bubbling inside of her at the thought of Rollingfog’s pregnancy. She glared at the sky and grew lost in her thoughts. The crunching snow underneath her paws gave way to dead leaves and needles, and trees began to grow around her. She could barely think until she realized she wasn’t on her territory anymore. Moosestar spun in a quick circle, automatically trying to figure out where she was. As she turned, her nose buried itself into a white chest surrounded by grey tabby fur. “Oh, hello,” she automatically purred, recognizing the scent to be a tom that she had not met before. “My name is Moosestar, Dronning of Katter av den Frosne Øya. I apologize sincerely for crossing the border into your territory,” her purr gave way to sarcasm, and she heard the tom snort at her. “What? Haven’t you ever seen a molly in a mood? I’m sick of all this love in the air! That disgusting look in every cat’s eyes has driven me mad,” she threw here head back and growled at the unfairness, and she could feel the tom shift closer to her. “I’m Hickorywind of BearClan. I can say it hasn’t hit me just yet, but it may be about to,” he breathed softly, eyes diging deep into Moosestar's. The molly's breath grew shallow and soft, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She shook her head, thughts drifting back to Rollingfog. Yet, she was there; Hickorywind was here. He smiled softly and she couldn't stop the purr that jumped up her throat and into the open. Hickorywind chuckled, and Moosestar's determination came slamming back. She furrowed her brows together and glared at him. How dare he laugh me! her thoughts cried, but the face she made made Hickorywind laugh even harder. "You're kinda cute when you pout," he forced out between laughs, and Moosestar stuck her tongue out at him childishly. She could feel her heart starting to thud uselessly in her chest, and so she raised her eyes to the sky. The moon was just beginning to rise, and her own camp was pretty far away. "Is there a place I could spend the night around here? My camp is pretty far away, and it's not safe to travel across my territory at night?" she tried, hoping she didn't sound helpless. If she was anything, it was not helpless. She noticed his eyes weren't fully focused on her, and her interest in him spiked even higher. Half blind, perhaps? she thought, but she shook her head to clear the thoughts as he opened his mouth to respond. "I'll stay with you. It isn't safe alone at night here either, and I don't want to take you to my camp," he meowed as he began digging leaves out from around the roots of a nearby tree. Moosestar took it upon herself to leap up and pull down several newer, softer leaves to line the hollow with. As she patted the leaves down, she could see Hickorywind watching her. She let out a small purr as she laid down, and he quickly curled around her to keep her from getting cold. He slowly licked the spot just behind her ears that she couldn't reach, and her heart beat faster. She wished she could stay like this forever, but she knew morning would be here sooner rather than later.
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:30:35 GMT -8
❄ Post 006 - Consequences Follow Your Actions
Moosestar rolled over, sick to her stomach and not feeling as active as she used to be. She took a deep sigh and lifted herself up, peering at her belly. She knew what was happening, but she didn’t want to accept it. Moosestar crossed the camp and entered Briarprickle’s den with a huff. “I think I’m pregnant,” she snapped, sitting down as Briarprickle approached her to check her out. Moosestar sat in silence as the Helbreder looked her over, examining her for several moments before stepping back. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky tom?” Briarprickle asked, a slight purr entering her voice as she realized Sunglare and Birchdapple’s Kattunge would have friends in the nursery. Moosestar huffed and stood, shaking her pelt out and crossing to the exit. “The father is a mistake! Relationships outside of this Clan are now forbidden,” she snarled, raking her claws across the stone and then hissing in pain. “I do not deserve the comfort and loving air of the nursery, and so I will stay in my own den. This is my punishment for my lapse in judgement,” she announced, but Briarprickle crossed and placed a paw on Moosestar’s flank and prevented her from leaving. “Just let me go! How can I be a Dronning and have Kattunge at the same time?” she wailed, tears shining in her eyes. Briarprickle pulled the molly she disliked close, curling around her comfortingly. “It’s okay, Moosestar. You can let Oystersnap care for the Clan for the few moons you’ll be unable to do so. Only the last moon of pregnancy and first two moons or so are when you’ll be unable to. Everything will work out, and you should spend your time in the nursery. Rollingfog will be able to help,” the Helbreder murmured, but Moosestar jerked away from her. “The gods told me I needed to keep out of Clan relationships from happening, and here I am, pregnant with a tom of BearClan’s Kattunge,” Moosestar whimpered. She leaned against Briarprickle for a quick moment and then pulled away. “I’d better retire to my nest,” she sighed, padding across camp with her tail dragging the ground.
Frost leaned against Lichen heavily as the two weary travelers entered the camp behind a patrol. Oystarsnap padded up to them with a smile. “Ospreyfrost! Lichenbristle! Welcome to Katter av den Frosne Øya!” he called brightly, formally naming them. Ospreyfrost looked at Lichenbristle with worry, but the molly just smiled and nudged the lynx point lovingly. They had been best friends for a long time, and new names weren’t about to change that. Rollingfog, a molly with a slightly rounded belly that Ospreyfrost assumed to be pregnant, padded up with a shining smile and swept her tail around. “As an expecting Mødre, I have nothing better to do than show you around. We’ll share a den, and so follow me to the nests I prepared when Climbingpaw rushed ahead to tell me to expect new arrivals!” the grey point molly purred, and Lichenbristle eyed her warily. Ospreyfrost shrugged slightly and padded after the excited molly. Rollingfog ducked into a den, and turned to show off three close nests. “I’m currently in the nursery, but you can pick two, and I’ll return after I’ve had these Kattunge as a surrogate and take the third,” she chirped, and Ospreyfrost walked up to one nest. She laid down and curled into it, sighing because she knew she was home. Lichenbristle was equally as large, and squeezed into the nest beside her. Their pelts brushed familiarly, in the way they had for moons upon moons. “Maybe here you’ll find love!” Lichenbristle chuckled, and Ospreyfrost scooped a pawful of moss at her friend. The molly spluttered and hurled her own pawful of moss, and Rollingfog quickly stepped between them. They knew she’d spent her own time making the nests, and so they awkwardly pulled the pawfuls of moss into their nests and grinned at her sheepishly. Rollingfog huffed before collapsing into laughter.
Shadepool cowered on the border as a large, blue classic tabby tom towered over her with a snarl. His claws pinned her pelt to the ground, and she dug her nose into the snow and whimpered like a lost kit. “Blueberry! Get off of her!” cried a ginger and white tabby tom. The large tom, Blueberry, stepped backwards but kept glaring at the solid black molly with heterochromia. “I apologize for him, he’s new and is quite territorial. I’m Sunglare, and you are?” he asked, helping Shadepool to her paws. The molly paused, wondering if she should share her name and her past. She remembered how she’d been turned away at other Clans for having been originally from another Clan. “I-I don’t have a n-name,” she stuttered, still shaken from her encounter with Blueberry. Sunglare looked at her with worry and turned to look at another tom, one Shadepool assumed to be his mate from the love in their eyes. Sunglare tapped a paw to his ear and looked Shadepool over, his eyes lingering on her one blue and one green eye. “If you’re going to join, you’ll need a Clan name. How about Dipperduo, after the beautiful yet recognizeable constellation in the sky and your odd colored eyes? You’re beautiful, but recognizeable,” Sunglare stumbled over his words quickly, as if Shadepool didn’t understand what he meant in his explanation of the constellation. Shadepool, now named Dipperduo, purred happily and nodded. “Great! Then let’s get you back to camp so I can show you around!”
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:32:11 GMT -8
❄ Post 007 - Kits, Kits, and More Kits!
Ospreyfrost and Dipperduo had been sent out on patrol alone. They didn’t even know each other that well, and here they were, alone, in the middle of the territory. “So, um, I’m Ospreyfrost,” the lynx point molly mumbled awkwardly. Dipperduo turned to look at her and smiled, which was rewarded with a smile from Ospreyfrost. “I’m not too good at making new friends, especially around cats that are as awkward as I am,” she chuckled, and Dipperduo dropped her head as she laughed. “Hold up,” Dipperduo hissed, dropping her voice and her body. Her ears stretched forward, and she parted her mouth to breathe deeply. Ospreyfrost crouched beside her, narrowing her eyes and peering across the bright white landscape. A heavily pregnant molly stumbled through snowbanks awkwardly, meowing loudly for help. “She looks as harmless as a blade of grass,” Dipperduo whispered, and took off. Her thin body stretched as she raced across the ground, her belly skimming the top of the snow. Her paws barely touched before they were in the air again, propelling her forward faster than any cat Ospreyfrost had seen. Ospreyfrost caught up to her patrol-mate seconds after she reached the molly, and the cream ticked tabby let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the gods you’re here! I was beginning to think I’d be alone when my litter came,” she purred, her voice thick and sweet. Dipperduo sniffed her slowly, and then pointed her eyes at the newcomer’s belly. “They don’t have a father, as far as I’m concerned. He is not the tom I thought him to be, and so I am on my own now,” she admitted, and Ospreyfrost nodded understandingly. “Let’s take you back to the camp. You seem to be in need of being checked over by Briarprickle, our Helbreder,” Dipperduo turned and waved her tail in a ‘follow me’ motion. Ospreyfrost let the tired mother lean on her shoulder as they began the long trek across the territory.
“Who are you and why are you inside my camp?” Moosestar had her back arched and her lips peeled back in a hiss, curled tighter into herself as to protect her slightly rounded belly. Almost a moon had passed since she had been told she was pregnant, and she was beginning to show it as well as slow down. The solid white tom stared her down, his eyes wide and happy. He didn’t seem threatening, but he had appeared inside of their camp without warning, so Moosestar was on edge. “My name is Saxifrage,” he began, taking a step forward. The Dronning took a step back, and so he continued his story from where he was. “A cat named Coral appeared to me in my dreams and told me to seek Dronning Moosestar and tell her that I am to be her next Hertuger.” Moosestar spat out a laugh, her eyes wide and wild. “As if that crazy tom thinks I would listen to him!” she laughed, throwing her head back and looking positively crazy. “I wouldn’t-” “You are a Lavere Jagere. I will decide what cats are to be my Hertuger and Hertuginne, and I don’t think you have the material to be one. Coral may speak to me himself if he thinks otherwise,” she snapped, and Saxifrage’s tail drooped. “You look to be as threatening as a flower. In fact, your name is now Saxifragepetal. You don’t deserve the fierce names my best cats have,” she added, spitting at the ground and turning around. Saxifragepetal watched her go sadly. “I actually love my new name,” he whispered to no cat in particular and turned to find where his nest would be.
Sunglare dug his claws into the tops of Birchdapple’s paws, who hissed in pain but otherwise kept his muzzle shut. Briarprickle was pressing on Rollingfog’s belly as well as listening to it. The Helbreder stayed silent, working on checking out her friend while the fathers sat by anxiously. Sunglare chewed on his lower lip, leaning closer as Briarprickle opened her mouth to say something. “The Kattunge will be due any day!” she announced brightly, and Sunglare nearly fainted. “Rollingfog isn’t to leave the nursery! I will bring her all her meals and watch her while she sleeps. I can’t risk the health of these Kattunge,” the words rolled off his tongue quickly, and Birchdapple reached forward and pulled his eager mate back. Briarprickle just laughed and shook her head while Rollingfog rolled to her paws and stood up with a wobble. Sunglare immediately rushed to her side, steadying her with a paw and a shoulder with worried eyes. “Yes, she is fragile, but you shouldn’t be worried. Mollies have been having Kattunge for longer than any cat can remember. She’ll need exercise, and she can fetch her own meals. I will be keeping a close eye on her, so don’t worry, and she knows what signs to watch for to signal that she needs to fetch for me,” the torbie explained slowly, and Sunglare nodded as Birchdapple sank his teeth into his mate’s tail and dragged him backwards. Sunglare shot an angry look at him, but it melted into love as he realized they would soon be fathers. “I promise that I’ll send a cat to fetch you when I need Briarprickle,” Rollingfog purred, and Sunglare let out a massive sigh. The day she kitted would be the most stressful day of his life, but it would also be the happiest. He had barely turned when he saw how happy Birchdapple was. “Can you believe it, Sunglare? We’re really about to be fathers,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t quite raise the volume of his voice. Sunglare had never seen such raw emotion in his mate, and so he pushed towards him and pressed his face into his chest fur. Birchdapple lowered his head, resting his chin between Sunglare’s ears lovingly, never taking his eyes off of Rollingfog. The grey point molly smiled at them, clearly happy she could be the source of so much joy. “It’s been a pleasure helping you two live your dream,” she meowed quietly, and Sunglare spun to look at her with shining eyes and twitching whiskers. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough, Rollingfog. You have truly made our dreams come true,” he meowed, leaning back against Birchdapple. The two toms and the two mollies sat in the medicine den until the sun was ready to leave the sky, and only then did they all retire to their nests.
Moosestar lay in her nest, watching the shadows dance around the corners of her den as it darkened. She felt one of her Kattunge kick her, and she let out a hiss of discomfort and sorrow. “I should never have left the territory, and I’m sorry for it,” she whispered to the sky. She knew Coral was up there listening somewhere, but she hoped none of the others were. “Coral, I’ve heard your anger and your cries. These Kattunge go against one of the rules you gave me,” she meowed softly, lowering her chin to her paws as tears began to drop to the ground.
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 7, 2020 15:33:47 GMT -8
❄ Post 008 - The Little Adventurer
“I know exactly what I’m doing!” the small tom announced loudly and happily, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes passed between Ospreyfrost, Lichenbristle, and Dipperduo. “I’m on an adventure!” he exclaimed brightly, and Ospreyfrost looked at him with compassion and sympathy. The snow was slightly melted underneath their paws, sucking and pulling with each step they took. The small tom padded up to Dipperduo with a smile and wove between her legs, purring excitedly as he looked up at her with complete admiration. Dipperduo watched him with confusion, but he seemed to have chosen her. “Would you like to come home with me?” she asked quietly, resting one paw gently on top of the little Kattunge’s head. He looked up at her with wide eyes and nodded, his small ears bouncing. Dipperduo scooped him closer and looked at his mud and snow covered paws, smiling as a name idea popped into her head. “I’ll call you Bogkit,” she purred, licking his ruffled fur back and pressing her nose to his cheek. It seemed like they had found each other, and Ospreyfrost and Lichenbristle watched happily as the new small family began the trek back to camp. “My paws hurt,” Bogkit moaned, and Dipperduo ducked her head. She picked him up by the scruff slowly, slightly slowed down by his weight. Bogkit let out a happy sigh and leaned against his new mother, purring as she carried him down the cliff towards the camp entrance. As Dipperduo set him down in the entrance, he looked around excitedly. She barely had a chance to welcome him home before he had already taken off to explore the caves. She needed to catch him before he got lost.
Sunglare paced anxiously as Birchdapple sat guard at the entrance to the nursery. They could hear Rollingfog’s cries as Briarprickle watched over her expertly. “What if they’re too small? What if they bond with her and not us? What if…” Sunglare’s worried voice trailed off as Birchdapple shot a pointed glare in his direction. “I’m so sorry, I’m just so nervous,” he wailed, sitting down and throwing his head back. He kept his eyes closed as he listened for the quiet mews of newborn Kattunge, but none reached his ears. Sunglare had been asleep outside the nursery when he had heard Rollingfog cry out for Briarprickle. The pain in her voice clued Sunglare in, and he had raced across the camp to fetch the Helbreder so that she could keep Rollingfog safe. He had then grabbed Birchdapple from his nest, determined to stand guard so that they could see their Kattunge as soon as they possibly could. The sun was now rising, casting warm rays into the den that Birchdapple eagerly moved into to chase away the cold of the night. Briarprickle cleared her throat as she stepped out of the nursery, and Sunglare rushed to her side. “You may see them, but you have to be quiet. Rollingfog is exhausted,” she whispered, as if raising her voice would disturb the Mødre and the newborn Kattunge. Sunglare nodded, and Birchdapple followed his mate into the dark nursery. It now smelled of Kattunge and love, something that hadn’t been there while it had been empty. Sunglare faltered, his eyes landing on the three tiny bundles who were sleeping happily. “Hi, little ones,” Sunglare murmured, resting his nose on the three Kattunge. “Two toms and a little molly,” the ginger tabby tom noted, taking a deep breath to keep himself calm. He chuckled as the small tortoiseshell reached up and tapped her paw onto Sunglare’s nose, wrapping around it and trying to pull it closer so she could snuggle. “This can be Harbourkit, since I know how much you loved that name when we were brainstorming,” he chuckled, and Birchdapple’s eyes shown brightly. “Sealkit and Narwhalkit,” the black ticked tabby tom meowed quickly, pressing his nose first to a black mackerel tabby tom and then a black ticked tabby tom that had larger ears and a longer tail, much like Birchdapple. Sunglare leaned against his mate happily, watching over the small Kattunge proudly. “We’ll move in once they no longer need Rollingfog at every second,” he whispered, beginning to back up so they could all rest. “Until then, I need a nap,” he chuckled, tapping Sunglare’s tail with his paw before ducking out of the nursery.
“Chickweedpaw, you will be mentored by Dipperduo. While your mentor is a Beskyttere, you may prove to be more skilled as a Jagere. Your progress will be assessed close to the end of your training, which will decide what path you will spend the last moon shadowing a member of,” Moosestar meowed loudly, her large belly forcing her to sit as she was winded after just a short speech. Chickweedpaw smiled happily and turned to Dipperduo, who was saying goodbye to her adopted son. “Are you excited to tour the territory?” Dipperduo asked her new Lærling, smiling as she trotted out into the snow. Chickweedpaw nodded happily, the white portions of her pelt immediately disappearing into the white snow. “You’ve already got some great camoflauge! Learn to stay low, and no prey will every suspect you’re there,” Dipperduo promised, and Chickweedpaw just looked at her sheepishly. “I hope I can prove to every cat that I’m the best Lærling ever! I won’t let you down, Dipperduo, I promise!”
|
|
|
Post by chaotic creativity on Sept 10, 2020 11:37:22 GMT -8
❄ Post 009 - Regret
Moosestar curled tightly around the six Kattunge who were helplessly rolling over each other. “What are you going to name them?” Briarprickle whispered, pressing her nose to Moosestar’s belly to make sure she didn’t feel anything abnormal. Moosestar shook her head angrily, standing up and stepping away from her Kattunge. “Moosestar! Don’t do that or they won’t bond with you in the way they need to!” Briarprickle wailed, pushing the Kattunge towards their mother. “Flicker appeared to me and expressed his displeasure with the father of these Kattunge. As my punishment, I must take all of them to their father’s Clan and take no part in their life. He has now demanded that all Kattunge must have both parents inside of the Clan or the Kattunge will be turned away,” the Dronning sighed, her head drooping as she resisted the urge to stroke her tail across the feather-soft backs of her six Kattunge. Briarprickle narrowed her eyes, but she quickly gathered three Kattunge. “I have to do it myself,” Moosestar whispered, grabbing two Kattunge awkwardly by their scruffs and then crouching so Briarprickle could place the others on her back. Without even waiting, Moosestar walked out with only four Kattunge, leaving two behind. Briarprickle opened her jaw to call her back, but Moosestar was already out of the camp in a matter of seconds. Briarprickle sighed and picked the two Kattunge up, delivering them to Rollingfog in the nursery. After explaining, Rollingfog sighed. She named them Lychniskit and Salixkit and pulled them in between Harbourkit, Sealkit, and Narwhalkit. Moosestar was panting as she crossed the BearClan border, and she dropped the four Kattunge with a sigh. She knew some cat would appear soon, and she would send them to fetch Hickorywind. Strangely enough, the tom she was seeking padded around a bush and took a step back in surprise. “Moosestar? Why are you…” his voice trailed off as he spotted the Kattunge. “Are these… mine?” he asked quietly, and Moosestar nodded sadly. Hickorywind took a step forward, but Moosestar took a step back. “Flicker, our god of love, is angry with these Kattunge for having a father outside of my Clan. As punishment, they are to live in your Clan and I am no longer allowed to be a part of their life. Whatever it was that was between us that night will never happen again, and I’m sorry for that. I wish it had never happened,” she murmured, her voice trembling and betraying the grief that flooded every inch of her body. She wanted to keep them close, but she didn’t dare anger the gods. Hickorywind opened his mouth to protest or apologize, Moosestar wasn’t sure, but she turned around and began padding away. “Goodbye, Hickorywind. Take care of them for me, but don’t ever tell them of me. If they seek me out, there could be disastrous consequences,” she whispered, not even looking back as she dashed across the BearClan border and back into the short stretch of unclaimed land that laid between the borders.
Ospreyfrost froze as she lifted her muzzle into the air, sniffing loudly as she held her tail up to signal the patrol to stop. “Dogs,” she whispered, her ears flattening as fear began to reach out to her with greedy claws. Dipperduo pressed against one side of Ospreyfrost while Lichenbristle pressed against the other, calming the stressed molly by simply being there. “We need to retreat and plan what we need to do. We can’t take on the dogs unprepared,” the molly warned, and the other two mollies nodded slowly. Ospreyfrost began to back away when the low growls of canines reached her ears, their ears just barely visible over the hills of snow. Two large black and brown dogs with thin fur stalked across the ground, peeling their lips back to reveal massive yellow teeth. “Run!” Lichenbristle shrieked, turning around and flying across the ground with long strides. Dipperduo hared after her, keeping her pace with Ospreyfrost. The three mollies zigged and zagged, knowing they couldn’t lead the predators back to their camp. “Split up!” Ospreyfrost demanded, and the three mollies took off in different directions. One dog went after Lichenbristle and the other after Dipperduo, so Ospreyfrost ran to Dipperduo’s side. They could feel the hot, stinking breath of the dogs on their tails, and Dipperduo would swear she lost a few tail furs to the angry snapping jaws. A loud whistle caused the dogs to turn around and return to their twolegs, and the three mollies raced into the camp and collapsed on the ground. Dipperduo lay on her side, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. Briarprickle sniffed the patrol over, making sure they had no injuries, and was satisfied with their health. Ospreyfrost’s tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth, and Lichenbristle couldn’t help but laugh at her best friend. “I need a nap,” Dipperduo sighed, forcing herself to her paws. She crossed the camp and ducked into the cave that held her nest, collapsing into it with a loud sigh. Ospreyfrost and Lichenbristle quickly joined her and sighed
Harbourkit stumbled and rolled onto her back, flailing her paws in the air as Sealkit took a flying leap and landed on her belly. The small molly had the air knocked out of her lungs, but she rolled over and pinned Sealkit down, pushing her nose into his face with a squeaky snarl. “I, Harbourstar, am Dronning! How dare you attack me?” she snapped, pushing her paws into Sealkit’s chest. He squirmed and wailed, which caused Sunglare to reach forward and pull his daughter off of his son. Narwhalkit peered out from behind Birchdapple’s tall legs, trembling as he pulled back into the safety of his father’s shadow. “Go on out and play,” Birchdapple urged quietly, but Narwhalkit shook his head and nuzzled the tall brown and black striped leg lovingly. Sunglare dropped to his belly and smiled at Narwhalkit, hoping to draw the young tom out into the game of moss-ball his siblings were now playing. Narwhalkit shook his head again, but Sunglare reached a paw around him and scooped him out into the open. Narwhalkit let out a wail, but Harbourkit and Sealkit had already spotted him. They raced over to him, barrelling into his side and knocking him over. “Narwhalkit! Be on my team!” Harbourkit squealed, bouncing up and down as she hid the ball of moss behind her legs. Sealkit narrowed his eyes and darted behind his sister, grabbing the ball in his tiny mouth. Narwhalkit’s eyes lit up as Harboutkit began chasing Sealkit, and he took a daring step in their direction. Narwhalkit exploded into movement, chasing after his siblings and quickly catching up to them with his abnormally long legs. Harbourkit laughed and spun in a circle, beginning to chase her other brother who now held the moss-ball. Sunglare sighed and leaned against Birchdapple, smiling as the three Kattunge collided and landed in a large, chuckling pile. “This is all I ever wanted,” the ginger tabby tom sighed happily. Birchdapple nodded and rested his chin on Sunglare’s head, the way he always did when he was happy.
The patrol raced ahead of Crooked, her own legs tripping over every branch that came into her way. She landed on her chin and snarled, sinking her claws into the twig and tossing it away. “If only these horrible tundra bushes didn’t exist!” she snarled, but she quickly joined the patrol that found her inside of the camp. A beautiful molly approached her and curled her lip in disgust, angling her ears as she sniffed the newcomer. “My name is Crooked, and I have been asked to join your wonderful Clan,” she announced, and Moosestar huffed. “Your name is now Crookedpaw, and Blueberry will be your mentor,” she snapped quickly, and then she disappeared into the cave Crookedpaw assumed to be her den. A strangely blue tom approached Crookedpaw, and she knew him to be Blueberry. What other cat in this cave could have such a name except for one that looked to be the color of the fruit. Crookedpaw followed him slowly, wary of angering him or disturbing him. He flicked his tail back and forth and exited the camp. “My name is Blueberry, and I am to be your mentor. Your name is Crookedpaw, and you are to be my Lærling,” he grumbled, his voice low and deep and slow. Crookedpaw rolled her eyes, unable to believe he really thought her to be so dense that she didn’t know her own name or new rank. Blueberry took a step back, narrowing his eyes as Crookedpaw approached him, glaring as she opened her mouth to give him her opinion. “I know my name. I know your name. I know our relationship, though I also know it will never progress past the formal relationship between mentor and Lærling as long as you consider me to be a stupid Kattunge who knows nothing. Now come along, Blueberry; I would like to explore my new home,” Crookedpaw raised her nose into the air and stalked off, hoping her mentor didn’t challenge her to a fight. She was as weak as she was ungraceful, but her mind made up for both of those things. She just hadn’t had enough time to study the new tom.
|
|