#bella-may

The gal

@ambitiousauthor

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Shallowfig came to a halt, flicking his tail to tell his family to do the same. Ahead of them was a dead blackberry bush with leaves as dark as its namesake. It was only that, a bush, yet the gaps in the branches lifted the fur along Shallowfig’s spine. He stared at the dark dapples, and a face stared right back. Whether it was from a trick of the lighting, or his mind playing tricks on him–as it had been ever since Plague tried to kill Hootpetal and Banshee–he couldn’t tell.

“What is this place?” Tendril asked from behind him. Shallowfig just barely avoided jumping.

He  took a breath and a step back, moving his mind to wonder how long they would have to wait, but before he exhaled, Bella-May poked her head out from between the thin branches. “You’re here!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Come in, come in!”

Shallowfig stepped back, motioning for Banshee and the kits to go through the normal rotting bush, and then followed at the tail. He had not visited his older kins’ home before, though they had visited him as a kit, and he was curious to know what so many of his family had made their homes to be, if it reflected something in Shallowfig–some indication of their blood relation, somehow. Did they both enjoy hanging vines?

But before he could look around, he found himself suffocating on fur. Legs squeezed around his neck. He panicked, struggling for a few seconds before Bella-May pulled back, and he realized, almost laughing at himself, that it was only his great-great-grandmother embracing him.

“I heard what happened,” she mewed sorrowfully, licking his ears. “If I had been there, I would have ripped that she-dung’s tail off and stuffed it down her throat.”

Banshee flinched. Shallowfig touched his tail to her side to calm her. 

“I….I have a favour to ask,” Shallowfig began.

“Myrtle  told me,” Bella-May responded as he searched for the right words. “You lot can stay here for as long as you need, darling.”

Shallowfig let his shoulders sag, soothed by her kind voice. He looked over his shoulder, at his kits. Racemekit, Tendrilkit, Poppykit, Mylingkit, and their younger half-siblings, Glasskit and Pagruskit. Cold ice slithered down his spine, gripping his bones and veins and causing his body to shake and heart to fall. He had come so close to losing them. Never again will that happen.

“They need to be trained,” Shallowfig explained. 

“I’m not much of a mentor,” Bella-May replied. Shallowfig understood that, she had been a loner. “But I won’t turn down time with the little kitties.” She blinked warmly at the kits, emitting a soft chuckle when Poppykit squealed when Glasskit bit her tail. 

“They don’t need to train to hunt or the ways of Clan life,” Shallowfig told her. The daily routines of the Clans were foreign to him as well. “They need to know how to protect themselves. They need to know how to….deal with attackers and dangers.” He didn’t want to say it out loud, for the sake of the kits’ and his own ears. He couldn’t say that he wanted his kits to be trained to be killers to keep them from being another victim of Plague, that he was willing to let them grow to be monsters, risking the lives of anyone or everyone they may hurt, so that they couldn’t be.

Thankfully, understanding flashed in Bella-May’s eyes. She smiled widely. Shallowfig tried not to focus on her glinting fangs. “I thought kits didn’t train until six cycles.”

“The four are half a moon from that,” Banshee spoke up, gathering their wrestling kits around her. “The two are two.”

Bella-May tilted her head far to the side. “My question appears to stand.”

“It doesn’t need to be intensive or harsh,” Shallowfig went on. “Preferably, it isn’t, not…at least…not while they’re so young.” He knew that to give them the best chances of survival, training had to push them further than any other cats could bear. Just not yet. They could be kits for a while yet.

“Some pouncing and sneaking lessons should do,” Bella-May thought. “We can make them games.” She swept her tail slowly, enticingly around. Racemekit took the bait and waggled his hips before leaping  for the ginger-tipped tail. Bella-May flicked it out of the way in a flash, grabbing Racemekit with sheathed paws, just before he could land, and pressed him to the ground to make chewing noises against his belly. Racemekit kicked out, squealing and giggling.

Shallowfig allowed himself a few heartbeats to watch and enjoy the moment. Then Pagruskit’s yawn brought him back. They had to rest. “Are you sure it’s not trouble?” he checked. “We could stay somewhere else–”

“Absolutely not,” Bella-May responded firmly. “You ought to stay here where great-ma can keep an eye on you.”

“Is it not too much–”

“Hush,” Bella-May cut him off, blocking his mouth with a paw while Racemekit growled and bit on the other. “Before your droning puts the little ones to sleep.”

“How many know we were coming?” Banshee asked nervously. She had a tendency to anxiety when she was around those she didn’t know. Shallowfig would have stayed with her family, but that was exactly who they were hiding from.

“Everyone,” Bella-May answered cheerfully. “And they’re so excited to meet y’all! Now come along, come along, let us show the nests we made for ya.”

Banshee took the lead once again, the kits following in a ragged line behind her. Shallowfig looked behind him, through the gaps in the bush. He no longer saw the eyes, yet the fear in him remained the same. He was seeing, too far to really see, his old den where his kits were born, where Banshee became his mate, where his mother nearly died. He was seeing himself as a fun-loving kit without a care in the world, and he knew, knew as well as he knew that the fur on his pelt was pale golden, that he was likely taking away that for his own kits. 

He turned his head back and padded after his family. Ahead, Tendrilkit sneezed a high-pitched sound, and Glasskit opened her little jaws in a massive, pink yawn. Shallowfig’s eyes pricked. They were so precious now, so perfect and innocent. Whatever happened in the future, whether or not by Plague’s doing–Dark Stars hope not, sending the kits to train the way that they would be was going to change them forever. Shallowfig could only hope that he was making the right choice, and that it was worth it.

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@ambitiousauthor

The first thing I picture is always old lady who willingly leads other innocent cats to their deaths.

But what if there’s more.

What if she wasn’t expecting to have kits? What if she wasn’t ready?

And what if food was scarce and times were hard, and one of the kits died? And there was so little meat…Jacky had no choice but to feed her remaining kits.

And Jacky became determined to make her daughters thrive. Even if they became horrible monsters, they are still her little girls that she worked so hard to keep alive.

So she allows them to be monsters. Maybe she even encouraged it, believing cruelty would only aid their survival.

Maybe she even started to believe it herself. Trying to play by the rules and be kind cost her kit its life. Trying to be caring lead to feeding her kits their own littermate because what other choice did they have?

But when they were vicious, mean, cruel, they thrived? So she’s mean and cruel, and guess what? They thrive.

And maybe while all her kits were still alive, they tried to hunt on Clan territory and were attacked for it? They could have had meals, just one nice mouse, but no.

Then years later, Clan cats come to her, asking for help. So where does she send them? To her daughters—the vulnerable kits that they had once turned away.

It was justice

- sleek, ultra violent killing machines (Houndtooth, Redjay, Myrtlewing, the triplets

- torties with bad attitudes and no more fucks to give (Bella-May, Jacky, Ash, and Cody)

- cottonball that somehow gained sentience and now craves wet food and sometimes violence (Scooter)

Nightfly Origin

First

Previous

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The three cats walked slowly, their energy drained with every step as much as their hope had been seeped out of their hearts with every kittypet or alleyway loner they spoke to, all giving the same answer.

No one had seen Meadowtree or Feathergaze, or any Clan cat besides them, for that matter.

Nightdrift glanced ahead at Twistedshine, who’s muzzle was locked and eyes were narrowed in determination. Determined to find her sister, or determined to still believe that she would, he couldn’t tell. 

A sigh brought his attention to Bramblefin, walking beside him. He leaned over and whispered in the brown tabby’s ear. “Were you two close?” he asked.

Bramblefin looked at Nightdrift, then at his own paws, caked with the dust that littered the strange pathways that lined the Twolegplace. “Been friends since we were young,” he answered.

“Mates?” 

Bramblefin shook his head, and Nightdrift could see that it pained him. “No,” he responded through what sounded like a lump in his throat. “I mean…I caught feelings, but…”

“She never did?” Nightdrift guessed sympathetically.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have the courage to ask before, and now…I’ll never know what her answer would have been.” His lips trembled, and the dark cloud over his eyes watered with fresh emotion. Nightdrift stepped closer, hoping to press against him and soothe as much pain as he could, but before his paw could touch the dusty ground, Twistedshine whirled around, bristling.

“Don’t say that” she hissed, saliva swinging from her snapping teeth. “We WILL find her, safe and sound, and you WILL have your answer!” Before either tom could respond, she whipped back around and continued on, tail lashing.

Nightdrift lowered his voice to a whisper, and spoke again into Bramblefin’s ear. “Has she been doing okay? Other than now?” He wanted to know if Twistedshine felt better when she was surrounded by other loved ones, her kits, her friends, or if the distraction of everyday life was enough to quiet the beast that grief brought. If it was different from now, when Feathergaze–and Meadowtree-was the front and centre of all their thoughts. He wasn’t sure why. Pity, probably.

Bramblefin shrugged. “I think she just hides it well,” he murmured back. “Feathergaze is more than a sister to her. She was–is–her best friend, and in a way, her daughter.”

“I heard.” Nightdrift wondered what it would be like to raise your younger sibling as your own kit. He guessed that Twistedshine didn’t have much of a choice. He didn’t know what kind of parents they had or how bad they were, he only knew that Twistedshine took it upon herself to take care of her kit-sister so that she would be happier than Twistedshine had been.

His eyes rested on the blind she-cat, who stomped on with a growl. What must it be like to lose the one cat you swore to always keep happy? What must she feel, knowing that the sister she must have sworn to protect is surely dead–or at least, will never be found by the Clans again?

Nightdrift’s chest ached as a storm of ice swept through his lungs and up his throat, where it sat as heavy as a rock. He tried to swallow it, stumbling, but it didn’t budge.  If this was how bad he felt just thinking about these cats’ pain, how could they move on, feeling it, expecting to live and hunt and patrol as if they don’t?

So distressed and distracted by these thoughts, he didn’t realize that Twistedshine had stopped, and bumped into her rear.

“Watch it,” she growled.

“Sorry.” Nightdrift blinked, realizing with a start that Twistedshine had stopped because she was speaking to someone. It was hard to tell in the dark light–night had fully fallen, and the tall Twoleg lights that lined the Thunderpaths were absent in this small row of dens–but he was sure that she was a tortoiseshell cat. He waited for her eyes to flash towards him, but even as she clearly faced him, there wasn’t so much as a glimpse. Did she HAVE eyes?

“As I was saying,” Twistedshine huffed, “have you seen any Clan cats around?”

The elderly kittypet let out a chuckle. For some reason, it made Nightdrift flinch. “Haven’t seen anyone around, hon. Don’t have the equipment for it.”

Equip…what? Must be a kittypet word.

“Blind?” Twistedshine asked.

“That’s right. And if you had to ask, I take it you’s the same.”

“For about four seasons now,” Twistedshine told her. “Cataracts.”

“Ah, rough.”

“Excuse me.” Bramblefin pushed forward. “We’re looking for some cats. Have you–uhm–scented them around? Or know anyone who did? We’re kind of in a hurry.”

The old cat responded to his request for hast with a long, massive yawn that sent an unpleasant odour into the three cats’ faces. They couldn’t help themselves from flinching. “It’s possible I smelt them. It’s even possible I spoke to them.”

Twistedshine straightened. Brmablefin leaned forward, ears perked, and Nightdrift’s eyes widened. “You did?” Twistedshine gasped. “Were they okay?”

“Was a she-cat with them?” Bramblefin put in. “She would have smelt like the two of us.”

“And another would have smelt like me,” Nightdrift added.

“Which way did they go?”

“Did a Twoleg take them?”

“Were they injured?”

“How many did you see–uh hear?”

The old cat smacked her tail against the ground. “Quiet, would you? How many tongues you think I have?”

Nightdrift ducked his head. “Sorry.”

Twistedshine scratched her claws against the tan Thunderpath impatiently. “She’s my sister, so excuse me if I’m in a rush to find her.”

The old cat tilted her head to one side. “Oh, yes, it can be tough losing kin, can it? The pain so hard, like the death of your own heart right inside of you.” Her words were raspy, creaking like a broken branch. “My own little kit found out her son had died not too long ago. A sickness that could have been cured if some cats had just given him care took him away from us. Ah, maybe you know him. Maybe you hated him too, like the cats who killed him.”

What was she going on about? “I’m sorry for your loss,” Nightdrift told her earnestly, albeit with confusion. “Perhaps…you understand why we want to find our Clanmates so much?”

The old cat’s muzzle wrinkled, reminding Nightdrift of a hungry dog. “You don’t care about my loss. Listen to you! I tell you about my dead grandbaby and my poor daughter’s broken heart, and you only want me to stop talking so you can go find your kin. What selfishness!”

Nightdrift ducked his head. Was he being selfish? 

“We could talk to you about it…when we get back?” Bramblefin offered. 

“Ha!” The old cat’s laugh was sharp, slicing through the air as clear as a claw. “Don’t bother. I want nothing to do with you Clan cats if it ain’t sending you on your way.”

“And which way would that be?” Twistenshine’s question was more of a snap. 

The old cat curled her lip in distaste. She nodded across the Thunderpath. “That direction ‘til you find a little stream. Follow it to a bridge. That’s where I sent them.”

Twistedshine had already bounded across the path before she could finish, Bramblefin hard on her paws. 

“Thank you,” Nightdrift told the old she-cat. “This is the most news we’ve gotten since the Flood.”

“Then go, and get away from me before I change my mind!”

Without needing more insistence, Nightdrift raced after his companions, fresh hope lighting his steps.

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NEXT:

@ambitiousauthor

Bella-May paced back and forth, her tail lashing and her fur spiked. “I can’t believe this! Outdone by a kittypet!”

Her great-grandson, Myrtlewing, watched her with a passive gaze as he groomed Alderstar’s fur, who’s eyes were half-closed. “Are you sure you’re not being dramatic?” 

Bella-May glared at him, her eyes narrowing further when she noticed the teasing glint on his face. She had come here hoping that Myrtlewing might share her feelings, unlike Houndtooth, but so far it didn’t seem as though her kin cared a whisker. “You know it’s frustrating!”

Myrtlewing shrugged. “How much did she kill?”

Bella-may bristled. “More than me!” 

“I don’t see the importance,” Myrtlewing replied. He paused from his grooming to do so, and Alderstar lifted his sleepy head to grunt in displeasure. Myrtlewing reasumed licking the back of his neck. Alderstar began to purr, resting his head back on his front paws. Meanwhile, Bella-May was holding back a hiss of frustration.

Myrtlewing dipped his head. “I get it, Bella-Ma. You had one of the best kill counts of all the residences, and now someone new comes along–”

“Named Styrofoam!”

“--Named Styrofoam, and takes that achievement from you. You can’t do much about it, because you’re dead. Well, you can lure living cats or kill the dead here, no difference to me, but I guess the distinction might matter to you.”

“You know what matters to me?” Alderstar murmured, eyes still shut. “Getting a good cleaning.”

Myrtlewing cuffed him playfully around the ears, then bent to groom them anyway. 

Bella-May bit the inside of her lip. Her kin was right, logically, but emotionally, she wanted to smack him for not agreeing with her. “No, it’s not the same to me. Does it not bother you?”

Myrtlewing shrugged again. “I don’t see why it should. It never mattered to me how many cats I killed, that was only a bonus. What mattered was how much fun I had.” Myrtlewing grinned. “And if her methods differed from mine, then I guess I got new things to learn and try.” It began to make more sense why Myrtlewing was so nonchalant about the situation–his favourite part of killing was when he got to try something new. Of course the prospect of meeting someone that could introduce him to more methods would excite him.

Myrtlewing leaned closer to his great-ma. “They’re almost as mean as us. They’ll earn a reputation. You know what I think? I think there’s more cats to blame when someone goes missing or turns up bones. That’s useful, isn’t it?”

“Someone’s not being useful,” Alderstar complained.

Myrtlewing responded by tugging on Alderstar’s ear, and the two began to wrestle, rolling around in a golden-brown whirl of fur.

Bella-May frowned as she padded away. Myrtlewing’s idea wasn’t very useful if she wanted to take credit. But she saw his point nonetheless. Still, she wanted to find at least one kin that shared her feelings, so that she didn’t feel so silly for having them. Maybe Dullahan. Maybe one of her kits.

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--The ending is sudden and weird, but I just wanted to put in what Myrtlewing would think about the whole Styrofoam thing--in short, he couldn't give less of a shit. But he is amused and likes poking fun at his great-ma, while also helping her out.

0: Dawn of Decay (Eye-Out prequel, Houndtooth and Bella-May finding each other)

.1 Sciamachy (Prequal between D.o.D and S.T, post Gorsedaisy's Nightmare, eventual introduction to Alder and Myrtle's births).

1: Sprouting Thorns (Eye-Out beginning, what is Alder beginning to join Myrtle's kills and them as kits. Will end with Storm's death).

2: Star and Medicine[?] Still working on the title, but the era as Alder as a leader, and his kills with Myrtlewing then. Also possibly call it Crown of Thorns.

3: Inosculation[?] Necrose [?]The family deceased, beginning of the poly and stories with the kits and descendants. Days of Rot [?]