#greydusk

Computer died and I forgot my charger at work, so posting this from my back-up blog on mobile. First post here, I think?

—Grebe once called Broken her little brother. They’re littermates, and he is the youngest. I imagine Broken was always very sensitive, and his sister was his protector.

—Though he cared nothing for Marblegaze, Redjay did love his kits deeply and was very involved in their lives (Black and Grey not included, he died before they were born).

—Lightstream put up a strong, confident front in front of his Clanmates, but alone with Redjay, he would confide and talk about things that worried him, his anxieties and insecurities. After Redjay was revealed and died, he kept to himself completely.

He is also gay, but never had the Realization until after he died and reunited with a tom friend.

—Swanmist was the first to suggest ending their bloodline, distraught at the pain it was still causing the family. Marblegaze had often failed to fight back in battles, not wanting to shed blood anymore, and got deeply hurt because of it.

—

ref by Turukhan

@ambitiousauthor @wills-woodland-warriors @starfalcon555 @umbranoxs @elementaldeityoffood

“Tough luck,” Alderstar stopped beside Myrtlewing, not bothering to hide the smile that said ‘I won and you lost.’

Myrtlewing half-swatted at him. “You cheated.”

“It’s not cheating, Myrtle, it’s just being good at the game.”

Myrtlewing rolled his eyes. “A game you have more experience with than I, therefore, it is cheating.”

Alderstar sighed in exasperation. “We’ll play a different one next time.” He broke into a yawn, stretching deeply until his limbs shook. “But I still won.” He lowered his voice. “And that means rogue.”

Myrtlewing thumped his chin on the ground as he laid. He was hoping to get one of their Clanmates, or if that proved too tricky, even for them, someone from another Clan. Alderstar was feeling for a loner or rogue, and because he won their little game of moss-ball, that is what they were going with.

Myrtlewing glanced at Greydusk, his uncle, and Molespots, Alderstar’s former mentor. They were the ones that had been playing with them. He felt another spark of thrill speed through him at the thought that their Clanmates were unknowingly helping them decide their other Clanmates’ fate.

He stood up, stretching as well. “I’ll be back, then.” 

He turned and padded to his den, relishing in the dappled shadows that became denser as he moved further into the tunnel, before it opened up into his clearing. On one side lay Pricklepelt, sprawled on her nest with her chin hanging over the edge. Her eyes were glazed, her fur sweaty and in clumps. 

“You’re being so much help.” He knew she couldn’t hear him, or at least understand. Not fully. Maybe. The moon earlier, she came into his den due to a bellyache. It was a minor thing, fixable in a day if Myrtlewing gave her the right herbs. And he did. He was no fool, he had to get rid of the stash and if need be, prove that it was in her system. But as well, he gave her small doses of holly berries every day. Gradually, she became worse and worse, and finally became the damp, pathetic mess she was now. 

Myrtlewing padded over to a clump of moss, dipped it in the stream, and gave it to Pricklepelt to drink from. She did, so slowly he had to stop himself from smacking her. He didn’t blame her. Even through the glaze, he could see the fear in her eyes and guessed that she put two and two together. Not that knowing would do anything for her. 

“Your son wanted to see you.”

A blink of hope.

“I told him you might be contagious.” He made a pout.

Walking over to his herbs, he reached into a deep and narrow cleft, and pulled out water hemlock hidden behind oak leaves. Then he reached into a much wider cleft and retrieved some borage leaves. He returned to her side, happy to see that the moss was still wet–she was too weak to properly drink from it. When he was close enough to her, he began chewing at the borage leaves. It would hurt a bit, but it would also leave traces of the chewed plant around Pricklepelt’s jaws. 

When he finished, Myrtlewing pushed the water hemlock over to her mouth. “This has gone too far! I’m so sorry, please forgive me, Pricklepelt!” his voice cracked. “I didn’t mean for you to get so sick, honest! Here,” he pressed the herb closer. “Please take it.”

Maybe he was convincing, maybe Pricklepelt saw no other choice. Maybe she knew it was a trick and just wanted it to end. In any case, she began chewing. Myrtlewing moved quickly to bury the remnants, using the wet moss to wipe at the crumbs on her mouth. Right on perfect cue, Pricklepelt began to convulse, writhing, moving more than she had in the last couple of weeks, white-yellow foam spilling from her lips.

Myrtlewing yowled in fake-surprise. 

Alderstar burst through with another warrior behind him. The gasps and murmuring of their other Clanmates could be heard beyond the tunnel. Alderstar rushed to Pricklepelt’s side. “What’s happened?” he asked in panick.

“I don’t know!” Myrtlewing responded in equal worry. “I gave her some borage leaves, and she just started shaking! This isn’t like anything I have ever seen before!” 

They tried in ‘vain’ to help Pricklepelt, but honestly, what could they have done even if they were trying? At last, Pricklepelt’s movement abruptly stopped. Myrtlewing listened for a beat, then hung his head when he found none.

They padded from the den together, the warrior carrying her on his back behind them. As the Clan stared in shock and grief, Alderstar raised his head to speak to the already gathered crowd. “Shadowclan, today we lost a valuable warrior, a friend–” his gaze flicked to Tanglepaw– “a mother to a sickness we cannot explain. We cannot grieve properly without first knowing what took Pricklepelt away from us so soon. Myrtlewing,” he turned his head to his medicine cat, “may I accompany you to the Moonstone?”

Myrtlewing nodded solemnly. “I have many questions for Starclan.” His voice broke. “I tried so hard to save her.”

Greydusk hurried forward, wrapping around his nephew. “I know you did,” he replied, holding him. 

“Thank you,” Myrtlewing responded. When his uncle finally pulled away, Myrtlewing straightened and dipped his head to his leader. “I would rather go sooner rather than later.”

“I as well,” Alderstar replied. They quickened toward the entrance after Pricklepelt’s body had been laid in the centre of camp. Their Clanmates wished them well and good lucks. When they were far enough from the territory, Alderstar bounced on his paws like an excited kit showing his mother the cool warrior move he made up. “Did you see me?”

Myrtlewing grinned. “I couldn’t not. You were making quite the show.”

“They ate it up!”

“Hey, I think I was pretty good too!”

“Eh, not as well as me.”

Myrtlewing’s eyes rolled for the second time that day, although the smile he wore was decidedly broader.  “Always have to be better, with you.”

“Aw, don’t be so jealous! Now, move along already, we still got two rogues to take care of.”

Myrtlewing stared at him. “Two?”

“You killed Pricklepelt, a Clanmate, so I get two rogues– one for my win, and one to even it out.”

“Whatever you say, my star.”

=======================================

--Pricklepelt’s death was solely so that they could have an excuse to ‘go to the Moonstone.’ Myrtlewing stretched her sickness out to make his desperation for answers more realistic.

--Tanglepaw was the apprentice Alderstar killed for badmouthing Myrtlewing, which lead to him being caught. 

Myrtle (not really paying attention): “I don’t know, Greydusk?”

Alder: “What?! No! He’s my dad!”

Myrtle: “....”

Alder: “....”

what if after Myrtle and Alder started spending a lot more time together, Alder also got to know Greydusk well. And because of his issues with Stormstar, he ended up really liking Grey and subconsciously viewing him as a father-figure.