#firejay

Gorseheart, Firejay, and Mallowstar: *laughing together, talking about wholesome memories*

Gorseheart: *gets hit in the head by a mossball someone accidently threw too far*

Gorseheart, wipping his head around: WHO THE FUCK THROUGH THAT FUCKING MOSSBALL YOU BETTER WATCH IT BEFORE I SHOVE IT UP YOUR FUCKING ASS

Gorseheart, turning back: haha anyway, as I was saying....

Fire: 0.0

Gorseheart felt the cold stares of what felt like everyone in the Clan, icy glares seeping  into his bones and around his heart, as if they wished to freeze it to a stop. 

Why must he keep making one mistake after another? He had only ever wanted to prevent war between his Clan and Skyclan, and for that he went through complete and utter darkness. It was as if he fell through a pitch-black tunnel, and on the other end were cats that mimicked his friends, but really hated him, and all he wanted was to return to the other side where they laughed with him, shared food with him, loved him.

He noticed his best friend since kithood settle down in the shade with a squirrel. Rushing to the fresh-kill pile, Gorseheart picked up a vole and raced to join him, slowing when he neared to seem casual. “Halflight! Mind if I join you?”

Halflight looked away awkwardly. “A little bit. I’m just waiting for Primrose.” Hadn’t she just left to hunt?

“Oh. Okay. Maybe later?”

Halflight looked doubtful. His gaze flitted to Blightstar, resting on the highledge. It was only a second’s glance, but Gorseheart noticed it, and he realized the true reason for Halflight’s denial. “You know, you don’t have to avoid me just because you’re afraid it’ll get you on the wrong side of Blightstar’s anger.”

Halflight’s ears flattened defensively. “Yeah, well, he’s angry and for once I’m not the one causing it. Don’t ruin that just because you can’t stand eating by yourself.”

Gorseheart tried not to let his fur bristle. Suddenly he didn’t feel like sharing a meal with his so-called friend. “Enjoy your food,” he said bitterly, padding away.

A little later in the day, Gorseheart spotted Mallowfur. He approached nervously. Neither of them had spoken since Gorseheart nearly–accidently–killed his mate and the medicine cat, Firejay. Gorseheart still had the leaf wrap around his eye from when Mallowfur struck him for it.

But as soon as Mallowfur noticed him approaching, he quickly turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Gorseheart’s hopeful tail fell dejectedly. He wasn’t going to bother trying to speak with Firejay. She was the most forgiving of his friends, but she was still recovering. Guilt weighed his heart down heavily. None of this would have happened if he had just listened to his leader!

Or if his leader had listened to him, a small voice in the back of his head said.

Gorseheart ignored it, mostly, and looked around. He spotted Thorneyes curled beside the warriors’ den. He lifted a paw to walk over, then hesitated. He didn’t want to be ignored or rejected again by someone he cared about. But he also couldn’t stand curling in his and Emberdawn’s nest for another night believing that they now hated him. He knew, somewhere, that it wasn’t true. The problem, though, was that it felt like it was. He had to show himself it wasn’t. He just wanted to get his old, happy life back, and forget all the trauma and hurt that now surrounded him everywhere he went.

“The shade is good here,” Gorseheart murmured uncertainty. “Mind if I join you? I’m sweating in this heat.” He hated that he had to think of a reason.

Thorneyes shrugged. “I don’t own the shadows.”

“No, I suppose not.” Gorseheart sat beside him. He struggled to find something to say. He just wanted to talk as they normally would, but now he was so worried of saying the wrong thing and ruining his chances to be friends again–but they were still friends, weren’t they?

“Uh, do you prefer the cold or warmth? I don’t think I ever asked.” What a stupid question.

“The cold keeps the prey buried in their nests. The heat brings them out,” Thorneyes responded simply. 

“Right,” Gorseheart tried to smile. They were talking, which was more than anyone else was doing for him besides his mate, but it still felt awkward, like they were meeting for the first time and had not been close for seasons. 

Thorneyes stood, stretching. “They should be hunted before the weather lessens.”

“Can I go with you?” Gorseheart asked a bit too quickly. 

Thorneyes blinked at him. “You can hunt all you wish, but I prefer to be alone.”

“I understand,” Gorseheart called after him. His chest squeezed painfully. He tried not to show how much everything was hurting, and for once he was glad that one of his eyes was covered up, so that he only had to hide the pricking of one.

Perhaps he will go on a hunt, and get everything out of his head. But as he neared the thorn tunnel, he was stopped by a voice from behind him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Hope faltering to a near complete end, Gorseheart turned to see Blightstar. “I was just going to hunt.”

“Were you?” Blightstar questioned doubtfully. “There’s already two patrols out, and Thorneyes. Do you want to know what I think? I think you were trying to speak with Greenstar again, behind my back–again.”

Gorseheart shuddered inwardly. No way in Starclan was he ever, ever going to make that mistake again. “I was just going to hunt,” he repeated.

“We have enough food already and we’re getting more,” Blightstar replied. “For once in your life, be useful. Repair the dens.”

“But I–”

“Do it!” Blightstar snapped. Tail twitching, he padded for the medicine den. 

By now, Gorseheart struggled not to collapse, not to even tremble. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal, or at least to be able to talk to one of the cats he had been best friends with for seasons–years, really, without constantly worrying about messing up and saying the wrong thing. Now he couldn’t even go to be alone with his agonizing thoughts, because Blightstar didn’t trust him enough to leave the camp on his own.

The only one he had now was Emberdawn, and she was one of the hunters–possibly on the complete other side of the territory. Gorseheart forced himself to breathe calmly and deeply, to not hyperventilate, though it felt very much within reach. How had things happened so that he felt only completely, and utterly alone?

--Odd to make a story while talking about he comes to forgive them, but I’ve been wanting to for a while anyway!

--Base is here by MirAnimates. I would have added the leaf wrap that was mentioned in the story, but tbh it was too hard and my phone was on very low battery so I didn’t have a whole lot of time.

--His scar is redder because it’s fresher.

--While Gorseheart in no way deserves this treatment, they do have fairly good reason.

-When Gorseheart was attacked sneaking into Skyclan territory to speak with Greenstar and hopefully prevent battle, Brownfrond wanted to go with him. Brownfrond is Blightstar’s son and was hurt, so Blightstar is furious at that AND at Gorseheart getting into a fight with a Skyclan patrol and making things worse.

-Thorneyes and his mate, Nettledeer, are going through a tough time, which is why he’s awkward and wants to be alone. Gorse has no way of knowing this.

-In his panic from his trauma, and PTSD, he struck Firejay, thinking she was Foxbreeze, and nearly killed her. That’s why both she and Mallowfur are angry at him.

-Halflight is normally the one Blight snaps at, and he’d do anything to be on Blight’s good side for once.

Firejay was pleased to get the herbs, after stopping in her organizing of herbs to laugh at their appearance. But her joy quickly faded when Mallowfur explained the situation to her.

“I think you may be right,” she told Gorseheart. 

“Do you want us to gather more?” he offered.

Firejay shook her head. “We may still need those herbs. If we gather too much now, most would end up dying anyway before we can use them.”

Gorseheart excused himself and left them to discuss it. They were the smarter ones, any ideas he made would surely also be made by them. He would be no help. He padded into the clearing, relishing in the sun warming his back. He curled on the grass, happy that the hollow walls sheltered them from most of the wind, which would help against the cold. 

He was just about to drift off into sleep when something small, but firm knocked into his side. Startled, he opened his eyes to see Fallowkit nudging him. “Gorseheart! Gorseheart! You’re back!” she cheered, bouncing on her paws. “Do you have a feather?”

He smiled warmly at her. He had made it a routine to take the feathers off of birds that he caught or from the fresh-kill-pile so that the kits could play with them. He usually aimed for more colourful ones, as the kits squealed the most when they saw those. 

“I gave you one just this morning!” Gorseheart replied in mock surprise. It was a good thing birds came plenty, because their feathers hardly lasted a few heartbeats before the overeager kits tore them to shreds.

“It was too small!” Fallowkit told him. She butted his shoulder with her head. “Do you got a bigger one?”

“A bigger thing to chase? Hmm…let me think…” As he spoke, Gorseheart moved his tail, waving it enticingly to and fro. Fallowkit moved her attention to it, eyes sparkling with joy. It was hard to tell if she was pretending not to notice so that she could catch him by surprise, due to her preparing to pounce all too obvious. 

She jumped, biting gently into his tail-fur and curled her body around it in a tight grip. “Hey!” Gorseheart exclaimed joyfully. “You want my tail? Hold on to it, and you can have it!” With that, he raced forward. Well…’race’ would be a heavy exaggeration. It was more of a fast walk, but it was quick enough for the small kit to think that he was running at full speed without hurting her. She let out a squeal of delight and gripped him tighter. 

Gorseheart kept going, running around in a circle, his chuckles joined by the uncontrollable laughter of Fallowkit. Finally, his legs were too tired to move any further. He collapsed dramatically onto the ground. “You have defeated me! The tail is all yours!”

Fallowkit let go and, once again, bounced on her paws. “I won! I won! I won!”

“Yes, you did,” Gorseheart purred. Part of him noted how Fallowkit didn’t even know about the stream-herb trouble, and that even if she did, she wouldn’t care all that much, games of pretend and moss-ball all too exciting to think about anything else. Sometimes he felt an ache of nostalgia, remembering being that age, and couldn’t help but wish that he could go back to it, no worries, only play. Blightstar would argue that Gorseheart still was a kit half the time.

His throat began to burn from all the running. Perhaps it wasn’t the best choice of game to play. “Why don’t you go tell your mom about your victory? Then I’ll give you the biggest feather you have ever seen!”

“Yay!” Fallowkit cheered, dashing off toward where Nectarclaw lay just outside the nursery.

Gorseheart watched her go with a warm smile, then curled back into the cool grass, feeling burnt now at the sweat that dripped from him. He began to doze off now, this time with no interruptions, and he would be able to sleep a small portion of the day away before he was dragged into a patrol.

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and her parents are SO WORRIED. "Why is our old friend turned murderer because of us hanging out with our daughter in her dreams? Is she trying to turn her against us?" and they learn about the other warriors hanging out with her and think "are they trying to train her like the warriors before the Great Battle?"

but every time they ask her about what she dreams of, she's just like "they gave me badger rides and told me to remember my parents love me very much!"

Super frickin sick

When you’re sad about a child dying and then remember that you’re about to die too

(He’s asking if he regrets trying to save the kit, even though it only ended up with him dying as well / if he would try it again, knowing the likely outcome).

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Halflight= friend, trained alongside Mallowfur’s first apprentice.

Thorneyes= friend, apprenticed alongside him, but was a tad younger.

Scaleears= sister, ran away to Shadowclan.

Briskpaw= second apprentice.

Leapingdusk= mother

Willowtail= father (didn’t do the best job).

Also the two from the previous page were:

Blightstar (orange)= mentor and former leader.

Firejay= mate

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I am starting to feel bad for not doing the last word stuff, but it takes a surprising amount of work, and I really need to focus on school right now. The comic is so that I’m at least posting SOMETHING