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Post by | COMRADE | on Aug 21, 2009 13:25:18 GMT -5
The night was serene. The sun had just fallen to give way to the moon, and the sky was just off an indigo haze. Every so often a blue, slate cloud would pass overhead, bringing with it a cool breeze that left a chill in the New-Leaf warmed air. Millions of stars scattered across the sky, glowing brightly down from the heavens of Silverpelt, thousands of miles above. It moon, the mother of all the stars watched over the forest, and even the small specks of it's craters could be seen from the ground. The small forest on WindClan territory was silent, apart from the occasional rustle of prey scurrying beneath leaf, and the wind setting leaves and fern rustling. In the far distance only the quiet trickle of river water could be heard, and even beyond that, fainter still, was the roaring falls of the gorge. The trees stretched on and on, frost-bitten buds beginning to shrivel at the cold of the night. At the edge of the forest, came a stretch of black, rough lands under paw. The monsters that usually roared across these feared paths were asleep or far off, deciding not to disturb the silence. The leaf-topped trees gave way to evergreens, with thick, bristling needles sticking out from the branches. The marshy ground was home to frogs and lizards; and disease. Here, the sounds of gurgling and croaking of the frogs disturbed the night. Back in the trees of leaves and thick undergrowth, a pair of leaf-green eyes watched intently from the bushes that hid his form.
Brackenheart gazed ahead of him in bored fascination at the forest around him. He rarely took nightly walks, and only would pad around at day time. But he found himself unable to sleep, so he had taken a walk out of the camp. The green eyes narrowed, and the bushes rustled as a dark brown tabby shape emerged from amidst the plant. His thick fur protected him from the chill of the evening, and his head was raised as he looked around, his chin held prominent. The beating of his pith echoed faintly in his ears, calming, slow, normal. He continued to pad forward, his wide, large paws brushing leaf and fern and cracking twigs as he stepped amongst them. Calmly, the tom cast a glance to one side, where the trees gave way to a long, rushing torrent of river. For a heart beat his eyes were locked on the flowing black water as it lashed hungrily at the depths of the gorge, rumbling with rage as it tried to reach the paws of the cat that was straying too far from it's reach. The small stream leading down to the gorge was completely engulfed in the flood water that was recently freed by ice, though the WindClan warrior could see new frozen water forming at either bank of the river. Moonlight reflected from the surface of the waves, and the beauty startled him. He had always thought of the river as a creature, attacking and pulling cats down to the depths, drowning them; erasing them. But now, he began to see it in a different way. It was a tree, sparkling with beauty and flowing with long branches of icy cold water droplets that fled from an unknown enemy, chasing off anything that approached it, and taking it's friends along side.
He stepped closer towards it, his eyes fixed intently upon the icy waves, padding closer and closer. He dipped one paw in the water, and shivered, recoiling from the touch. Despite it's beauty, it was icy cold and strong. Strong enough to pull him in if it was given the chance. Turning away, he padded back up the shore, and left the gorge and it's river behind him. RiverClan had that part, and they could have all the river. They were the swimmers, the fishers. He was the hunter, the stalker. A WindClan warrior who is trained to race across the moorland at unmatched speeds, follow the rabbits running for shelter. Trained to pounce and kill. Trained to be a warrior. His steps were soundless, endless followed one another in a self-consciously organized pattern. He listened to the tot, tot, tot, tot of each step, the sound in sync with his heart beat. While he looked at what was around him, he recalled on his past, his memories. His friends, his parents, his nursery den mates, his apprentice den mates; and most of all, his mentor. Emberheart. At the thought of the ginger tom his heart filled with sadness and he felt a lump filling his throat. Still, seasons after the death of his greatest friend and mentor, he was always saddened and also proud of the tom who had trained him to be a warrior. His thoughts began to spin, and his eyes filled with visions of his training sessions. Learning to hunt, fight, collect moss, take care of the elders, repair the camp after an invasion or a particularly harsh storm. There was so much he had learned how to do, so much to being a warrior, and it was all thanks to Emberheart who had taught him his skills.
* * * * *
"WindClan! attack!" Snowstar's battle yowl echoed in his ears as ShadowClan intruders raced across the ThunderPath and launched themselves at their WindClan rivals. Brackenpaw's blood was boiling and he could hear it pulsing in his ears. His tail lashed from side to side with excitement and anger. ShadowClan had been long asking for this fight! they had stolen 1 piece of prey too many from the time their first warrior stepped over the border and broke the warrior code. It was time they learned a lesson; and learned to act like warriors. As the WindClan warriors rushed forward, rolling over the ground in flashes of claws and teeth, a voice hissed in his ear.
"Are you ready Brackenpaw?" Emberheart stood beside. "You've learned how to fight. Let's teach these thieving cowards a lesson they won't forget!" he lashed his tail with exhilaration, and his dark-furred mentor disappeared in a throng of flashing teeth and claws and ripping fur. A muscular, black-furred ShadowClan apprentice reared up in front of Brackenpaw, and he snarled as claws ripped his ear. Remembering his training in a flash, he sprang forward, aiming a quick blow to the tom's head, before ducking down and giving him a good slash down a flank. At the tom's screech, he sprang back, hearing the clack as teeth just missed his ear. The black apprentice spat at him, and suddenly sprang forward. Brackenpaw reared back, front paws lashing and they both rolled over on the ground in a snarling ball of tabby and black fur. He hardly felt the blows as they landed upon him, but felt only the longing to taste and rip through blood and fur. To defeat his enemy like he had been trained for all along. Hissing, the two cats broke apart. The black apprentice was leaning perilously on his left side, and he spotted a deep gash, seeping blood from his right leg. Maximizing the opportunity, he lunged forward and his jaws snapped shut, hard around the cat's injured leg. The apprentice yowled with pain, and turned to race back across the ThunderPath and to his own territory. Releasing him, Brackenpaw spat out blood. It looked like WindClan was winning. ShadowClan warriors were following the apprentice back to their territory. But some WindClan cats were also down. Then, his blood ran cold.
Time seemed to have slowed. The fighting cats faded into darkness around him as he saw his mentor bleeding and wounded in the dust. A deep wound lay on the side of his throat, slashed by a ShadowClan claw. The golden eyes of the ginger tom flickered to his apprentice. Brackenpaw's green eyes grew wide and he padded warily over to his mentor. "Emberheart?" he whispered, scared to see the once great warrior lying injured. "Are you alright?" come on, get up. We've got to get you to the Medicine Cat," he urged. His mentor's eyes seemed to grow cloudy, and almost looked as though he was seeing right through them.
"No Brackenpaw. Don't bother. It's too late. StarClan are waiting for me."
No! Don't say that!" he protested, grief freezing his limbs as he crouched down beside his friend. "Please get up!" he begged, his fur pushed into his mentor's side.
Emberheart shook his head. "I'm sorry, Brackenpaw. But this was my last battle," his eyes seemed to lighten for a moment as he glanced over Brackenpaw's shoulder. Their leader, Snowstar stood there, his white fur bristling with surprise.
"Snowstar. It is time for my apprentice to become a warrior. He fought bravely in this battle, and has learned everything I could teach him," the dying warrior rasped. Snowstar nodded, and padded forward slowly, but paused and shared a glance with Brackenpaw.
"Thank you for all you have done for me. When I earn my name I wish to be called Brackenheart, in honor of you because you were such a great mentor and warrior. Your memory will always be stored in my heart for as long as I live. And one day, I will walk beside you in the stars," he vowed, hardly realizing that he was speaking those words.
He heard a weak purr rising in Emberheart's chest before the tom drew in one last breathe, and his head dropped to the ground and his eyes closed. He was dead.
For several heart-beats he couldn't move, and crouched as though frozen next to the dead warrior. The sound of his leader padding over and placing his tail gently on his side hardly roused him. Only when the noble cat spoke did he look up.
"Brackenpaw. Emberheart is right. You are to be made a warrior. This battle is not over. I will not judge you now if you do not return to finish this battle. Be strong, young one. This is not the end, but only the beginning," the words confused the young apprentice, but he said nothing as his leader turned and plunged back into the battle. Letting out a choked sigh, he stared down for a moment longer at his mentor, and then the claw that opened a deep, fatal wound on his throat. Anger burned inside him, and his spine began to bristle. ShadowClan would pay for taking the life of such a noble warrior.
Brackenpaw spun, snarling, and grabbed hold of the first cat he saw. Without releasing the ShadowClan warrior, he dragged the tom, clawing and snapping at his flesh all the way until he reached the edge of the ThunderPath. "Get off our territory, you slimy worm!" he hissed. Immediately the tom bolted across the path, not looking back as he disappeared from view. Still raging, Brackenpaw spun to see the rest of ShadowClan fleeing from his clan mates. WindClan had won! but they had lost Emberheart. It was only then, did he realize, that there was no winning or losing. For every battle, no matter who remained standing and victorious, there was always a loss for either side.
* * * * *
"Ooof!" he huffed as he smashed head first into one of the last trees that edged the path to HighStones. Taking a few, awkward steps backwards the tom cat stared into the tree with surprise for a heart-beat, then turned away, shaking his head. So lost in his memory, he had not been looking where he was going. He felt the familiar grief in his heart when he looked back upon that fight. That fight had changed everything. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he glanced away, up at the night sky. It had turned a midnight black. He continued walking, making sure to watch where he was going, and where he had gone. His heart longed for another cat to walk along side, yet his face was that same mask of calm it had always been.
Open to: 1 other cat.
Players: Brackenheart.
Muse: Partly high.
Words: 2079.
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