#goldennose

“I don’t know about this,” Mottlekit said quietly, stopping a few steps behind Graykit.

The kit who was somehow both older and younger than her had gotten an idea, one of her many. The idea was to collect a bunch of feathers and attach them to a sleeping warrior with tree sap. The little kit shook with excitement, her laughter already bubbling up as if she could see the confusion on the warrior’s face now.

Mottlekit, on the other hand, saw the inevitable anger. Seeing Graykit’s exasperation with her, she wished not for the first time to have her friend’s confidence, to do fun things without worrying about getting in trouble.

“I’ll target Firebird,” Graykit promised. “You know how nice she is!”

“That just makes me feel worse!” Mottlekit whined. “But we can’t target someone mean ‘cause then they’ll be really mean!”

For a moment, a dark shadow hovered beneath Graykit’s eyelids. Then, more casually, as if she were trying to convince herself that it was no big deal, she said, “no one gets mad at two dead kits.”

Mottlekit didn’t stiffen, well used to the fact by now, and finally, finally past the trauma of having her fragile body held beneath the water. Her mind went to her mother, how devastated she had been, and then becoming a murderer, a kit-murderer.

Mottlekit and Oatkit hadn’t been sure how to react to Goldenkit. His mother killed them and their mother killed him. Some of the Starclan cats, kind and devastated at the whole situation, had gently explained everything to them as much as they could, but even in their young and confused states, they could tell that the warriors weren’t too sure how to explain it at all, that they hardly believed what had happened. Mottlekit was even sure they wanted to keep them separate to avoid conflict. 

It had been Mottlekit who decided to confront Goldenkit. His mother was a murderer for no reason. At least Poppyhill did it for revenge! She needed to defend her mother’s honour, to take out her anger and grief over her own life at the only one around that she could connect to the deaths. When she had approached, his back was to her, and his golden pelt reminded her so much of the leg that had held her beneath the shallow water, claws digging into her little skin as she wriggled, panicking, fighting for air.

But when he turned around, tears welled in his eyes. Snot fell from his nostrils. Mottlekit recognized the look. He was scared.

 How horrible her death had been, how much she and her brother needed each other’s comfort. Poor Goldenkit had no one, his sister lived on. Mottlekit wondered how it had felt, to be flung over the gorge by a Clanmate you were told by everyone to trust, plummeting to the ground in a camp you played in, a camp you thought you were safe in with a warrior you thought you were safe with.

Mottlekit had offered to show him around, pretending to know everything. Oatkit became fast friends with him, too. Finding out that they both loved the same games was enough to stall Oatkit’s resentment.

It was harder with Ferndoe’s trio, and that was no surprise. They may have been killed by their own mother, which was horrifying all on its own, but she was manipulated into doing it by Poppyhill. Mottlekit couldn’t defend that, and didn’t plan on trying to, but with the three’s insults, Oatkit and Mottlekit fought back.

It was never really bad, in retrospect, kit squabbles and kit-hitting, nothing dangerous and nothing the bigger cats couldn’t put a stop to when it got bad. Goldenkit had been caught between them, his friends or his same-aged nieces and nephew.

It hadn’t been a dramatic final fight or confession that ended the fights. It had simply slipped away over time, and maybe boredom. But eventually the caring over who did what stopped. And after a few more moons, they went from indifference to friends when Specklekit had stopped to listen to an elder’s stories, and as the climax grew, more and more kits were attracted to the tale. When it had finished, they were buzzing with energy and wanted to play it out. It was as though they had never been enemies at all. 

In a way, they never had been. They were simply playing out the parts of their kin’s quarrel. It seemed that in that moment, hopping over each other, playfully smacking each other with sheathed claws instead of unsheathed, they all realized that, too.

Mottlekit also realized, too, that she and Graykit had the same sense of humour. They became fast friends, and Graykit would bring Mottlekit more out of her shell, bringing her further away to do fun tasks that while Mottlekit feared at first, was always glad to have done them when it was over. Mottlekit, in turn, taught Graykit how to settle down and have fun without necessarily doing anything at all.

“I don’t want to do it,” Mottle told her now. As outgoing as Graykit was, she had no doubt she would respect Mottlekit’s boundaries. “And you shouldn’t either, not without your partner in crime to shoulder the blame.”

That was their nickname for each other, as well as Mottleheart and Graystar, names they had hoped to one day have. ‘Everyone knows you would have been a great leader!’ Mottlekit had said. Graystar had grinned before replying, ‘and you my deputy.’

Graykit scuffed the earth in frustration. “Eeeh. But we’ve already done every other exciting thing there is to do!”

“We can put a spider–”

“Did that.”

“Uh, we can trick Thornkit into–”

“He won’t fall for it a fourth time.”

Mottlekit looked around, racking her brain and the landscape for an idea. Graykit took her on so many fun adventures. It was Mottlekit’s turn to figure out a fun task to do. But what would be exciting enough? Thrilling enough to be worthy of all of Graykit’s adventures?

Poppyhill

Aliases / Nicknames: Liar, The Dark Queen, kit-killer

Gender: she-cat

Family: Swanheart (mother), Eagledust (father), Oatkit (son), Mottlekit (daughter)

Other relations: unknown mentor

Clan: Thunderclan

Characteristics: targets victim’s kits for revenge

Number of Victims: 4/5

Number of Murders: 4

Murder Method: blunt force trauma, manipulates others into committing murder

Known Victims: Thornkit, Specklekit, Greykit, Goldenkit

Cause of Death: greencough

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

As a kit, Poppykit struggled. Her mother had been Riverclan before joining Eagledust in Thunderclan, where she planned to have her kits. 

Of course, no warrior blamed her, but she could she the looks her parents got as they played with her, as they went about their duties and especially when they dared show affection to each other.

Poppykit didn’t understand it at first. Not until she asked her parents, and they had to sit her down and explain the situation of love and loyalty.

It only made Poppykit angrier. It was so unfair! Even if Swanheart had been from another Clan, she had been in Thunderclan for all of Poppykit’s life! An upstanding member through all the glares and dirty looks. So the next time a dirt look caught Poppykit’s attention, she leaped on the warrior’s back, clawing at his back.

She was mildly hurt from that. The warrior had freaked out, but stopped trying to get her off--at least in a non-gentle maner-- when he saw that it was a kit. She had also gotten into a lot of trouble, with the leader threatening to delay her apprenticeship.

But it was more than worth it! The Clan realized how horrible they were being, how a kit shouldn’t have to feel the need to defend their mother to the point of attacking a full-grown warrior, as though they believed that no one else would.

Even a young apprentice, Larkpaw, was impressed by her! She was brave, an apprentice told her so!

She had become friends with him after that. There were other kits she occasionally played with, sure, but they were boring. None of them said that she was the coolest like Larkpaw had.

Their friendship continued into Poppypaw’s apprenticeship, and as the two became warriors. 

When Poppyhill felt a want for little hair-balls stirring, she knew who to ask. She didn’t love Larklight, they were only friends. She didn’t want a mate either, so Larklight being the male she trusted the most being her kits’ father made the most sense to her.

Goldennose was against it.

She was close to Poppyhill’s age. They had been play-mates a few times as kits but fell out when she began hanging out with Larklight, who it turned out Goldennose had fallen in love with.

Goldennose had first told Poppyhill that it was wrong to manipulate Larklight’s feelings for Poppy and by making him the father when she didn’t want a mate. Poppyhill disputed this, of course she had discussed this with Larklight! He was completely understanding. Besides, he didn’t have to be mates with Poppyhill in order to be a good father to their kits.

But Goldennose wouldn’t have it, coming dangerously close to outright threatening Poppyhill to find someone else. But it was too late. She was already carrying the kits.

No moment in all her life, no emotions, could surpass the love she felt as she gazed at her newly born son and daughter, Oatkit and Mottlekit, suckling at her stomach, cooing softly.

She loved them so much.

And she cried so much when their bodies were found out in the territory. The forest had faced heavy rainfall, and it appeared as though they drowned. But how? It was a puddle! A PUDDLE! How could they drown?

Larklight was grieving too, with Goldennose all over him. She comforted him, saying how sorry she was, but Poppyhill caught the satisfied gleam in her eyes and knew what she had done.

She drowned in her grief. She should have been more careful. Should have watched them more closely. They were murdered because of her. She knew Goldennose’s feelings, yet did nothing. 

The idea of revenge hadn’t come to her until seasons later, when Goldennose and Larklight had two kits: Fernkit and Goldenkit, after herself.

So she had done it! She had killed Poppyhill’s kits out of jealousy, and got with Larklight in the midst of his grief to have her own kits with him!

Two can play that game.

Goldenkit was happy to go outside with her. He was told he couldn’t until he became an apprentice! She would’ve brought Fernkit as well, but she was tucked more tightly under her mother’s tail.

Everyone believed it to have been a horrible accident, just as they believed it to be with her kits. Poor little Goldenkit couldn’t see well in the dark. Must have snuck out, and then fell over the gorge.

Goldennose had openly accused Poppyhill, but couldn’t defend her accusation without admitting to her own horrible deed.

It was then that Poppyhill decided death wasn’t punishment enough. Goldennose had to watch as her remaining kit suffered, truly suffered. 

When Goldennose had died-- not by her paws, but at that of a Shadowclan warrior in the heat of battle, Poppyhill played her game. She comforted the grieving daughter, now Ferndoe, and in her vulnerability became the only warrior she could hold on to.

That’s why it was so easy to convince her of the harsh realities of the world. Afterall, her brother had only died as a kit, fallen over the edge where his tiny body broke. Her mother was slain horribly in only one battle of many. And Larklight.. Poppyhill hated using his death against someone he cared about.. he had succumbed to one of the worst cases of green-cough the Clan had faced, taking two more warriors and an elder.

Ferndoe’s kits shouldn’t have to face all of that. In life, they are doomed to suffer. But they know of a paradise, filled with an abundance of food and flowery vegetation, and no evil. She just has to be brave enough to bring her kits into it.

And she was.

But she was not smart. She was caught easily, and exiled outside Clan-territory.

Poppyhill laid easy for the rest of her life, living to be an elder until she, too, succumbed to illness.

Ferndoe

Aliases / Nicknames: Crazy she-cat, fox-heart

Gender: she-cat

Family: Goldennose (mother), Larklight (father), Goldenkit (brother), Specklekit (daughter), Thornkit (son), Greykit (daughter)

Other relations: unknown mentor

Clan: Thunderclan

Characteristics: kills kits to protect them from the world

Number of Victims: 3

Number of Murders: 3

Murder Method: poisoning

Known Victims: Greykit, Specklekit, Thornkit

Cause of Death: weakened by starvation, killed by fox

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

Fernkit wasn’t old enough to understand. She knew that one morning, everyone was freaking out, that first her mother was telling her to stay where she was, and then she and her father burst into the den and held her close. She knew that one day, Goldenkit was here and the next he was gone.

She didn’t understand what that truly meant, but she saw how sad her parents suddenly were, and she became sad when they told her that she wouldn’t ever be able to play with her brother again.

It wasn’t until she was older did she come to terms with what that truly meant.

She was excited to become an apprentice and warrior, and she did try hard. But at the back of her mind, there was always a thought: what if she died today? Afterall, she and Goldenkit had been so excited to become warriors, but he died when they were barely three moons old. 

Was it all pointless? The hard work? The dedication? 

She managed to keep these thoughts at bay for the most part. No one knew she had them. Then her father died, and her mother joined shortly thereafter. 

She couldn’t tell anyone how she felt, because she knew that it was insane. But then a warrior, just another Clanmate, was there for her. Poppyhill listened to her, supported her, even agreed with her. She was the only one that understood her fear as a mother.

She understood why she had to do it.

But when she did, they had caught her, and Poppyhill joined in the snarls as she desperately tried to defend herself.

It wasn’t long she lived in exile. Had it all been a lie? Poppyhill turned her back on her.. had she been manipulating her? Stars, she killed her kits! She killed her kits for nothing!

She hardly allowed herself a meal, and it was no surprise when she had no energy left to flee the fox that had found her.

Additional Information:

--Congrats to anyone who recognizes the name! And if you’re wondering, yes! Poppyhill is based on Poppy Hill from Haunting of Hill House, and Ferndoe on Olivia Crain.

Originally, Poppyhill was meant to be more evil and kill her own kits before manipulating Ferndoe to do the same, but then I read somewhere that Poppy Hill’s daughter was murdered, and decided that was a more interesting route to take.

--I completely forgot about Poppyhill’s curled ears. 

--The designs of the first image are pretty off, but it was the only picrew with two cats (there was another one, but designs were worse).

--Goldennose is likely double-dead. She would have ended up in the Dark Forest for sure, and Poppyhill would kill her.

--Ferndoe’s appearance is based off of this older OC (art credit to @spottedsnap​:

--Larklight takes care of all his babies in Starclan, likely with the help of their grandparents. How the kits get along with each other, I’ll leave up for debate. 

jjmnh,nmjmnjkbn ya

The worst and best thing that could possibly happen to Ferndoe has happened to her, and her mind was completely empty. 

She had reunited with one of her kits, Greykit, her darling eldest daughter. She had looked exactly how Ferndoe had remembered her, precious little ears and orange spots all. Seeing her was the last thing she expected to happen today. She had cuddled her, held her close, apologized profusely and told her how much she loved her. Yet it felt like it was ending all too soon. 

Then again, even if she knew better than Starclan how safe kits could be here, she knew how cruel Starclan could be to kits who left, and she was not going to put her kit at risk for her sake. Not again.

What made things worse was that Poppyhill’s own daughter, Mottlekit, was here as well, which meant Poppyhill had padded alongside her as they took their kits to the border tunnel. When the two kits reluctantly, but happily crossed through the tunnel, shouting cheery good-byes as they went, Ferndoe’s swelling love dissolved into disgust. Disgust at herself, and for the cat standing next to her.

Ferndoe waited until she could no longer hear Greykit, and then some, then began to turn away. Unfortunately, Poppyhill had other plans.

“Our daughters are best friends,” she said simply.

Ferndoe fixed a glare on her. “And? We’re not.”

Poppyhill only kept staring blankly at the tunnel. “I forgot what she looked like. Is that weird?”

Ferndoe curled her lip. “Are you referring to your kit or the one you manipulated me into killing?”

Poppyhill didn’t seem to hear her, infuriating Ferndoe further. “I was obsessed with her and Oatkit for so long. I dedicated everything to avenging them. I hurt innocents for them, and I can’t even properly remember what they look like.”

Ferndoe’s fur burned in anger. She turned on Poppyhill fully. How dare she speak to her about killing her kits and act like her biggest sorrow was forgetting how her own looked? Ferndoe would never forget! She can never forget any of it, because of Poppyhill! “Put those tears away! You won’t fool me again!” She felt suddenly very aware of the kits in her belly, and her rage increased tenfold.

In spite of the threat, Poppyhill only seemed to flatten against herself. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, surprising Ferndoe. “Really, this time,” she added. “I…I couldn’t see my victims–your kits, your brother, you, for anything other than pawns to hurt Goldennose. I just couldn’t bear losing my kits, I had to make that she-cat suffer, even if it meant causing pain to those that never did anything to me, even if it meant hurting you.”

“I trusted you,” Ferndoe spat. “You used my grief against me. You made me kill my kits for your little revenge plan.” It took everything in Ferndoe–mainly the reminder of her unborn kits and their need for safety–not to leap and claw at Poppyhill right there and then. “You think excuses will make that all go away now?”

Poppyhill vigorously shook her head. “No, no I don’t. I know no reason that I give will make any part of it better. I did trick you. I swooped in when you were at your lowest and manipulated you, forced you to do the worst thing imaginable because I made you believe that it was the best thing for them. I knew,” she went on quickly when Ferndoe snapped open her jaws for a sharp retort, “I knew what I was doing, grief or no grief. That makes it my burden alone. You were only a victim. You did nothing wrong.”

Ferndoe shook, but as harsh as she wanted to be, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. As little as that may mean coming from Poppyhill, the words still resonated deep within her, gripping her heart in sharp talons, tugging it from her ribcage. 

She showed her fangs, feeling them drip saliva, flattening her ears until they pressed against her skull, and snarled. “Stay away from my family!” With that, she turned tail and fled, racing through the trees, ignoring the spiraling of thoughts and the painful pounding in her chest.

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