Nightfly Origin

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Nightdrift held his breath, watching as still as a rock. But when the cat moved out of the shadow of the bridge, it was clear that she was neither Meadowtree nor Feathergaze. Just a random alley cat.

But maybe she knew where their Clanmates were.

He followed Twistedshine and Bramblefin, who were already racing to meet the cat, and dipped his head in polite, if hasty, greeting.

“Oh, hello–” the cat began, when the RiverClan cats began to bombard her with questions.

“Have you seen any Clan cats around?”

“Her name is Feathergaze–”

“She looks like me.”

“She might be with some other cats too.”

The she-cat watched them with what looked to be mingling feelings of bewilderment, amusement, and irritation. She waited until their rambling slowed, then turned around back into the bridge’s darkness, flicking her tail in a gesture for them to follow.

They did so, Nightdrift a bit fast as he moved through the darkness of the strange structure.

The other side had a rounded, bumpy thunderpath that covered the ground like the grass in a clearing. There were patches of dried grass and dandelions that poked here and there, but the most shelter this place provided was composed of debris and smelly Twoleg things. Instead of tall trees or rolling hills, this place had Twoleg dens higher than either, surrounding the cats like a starving pack of foxes. There were two long alleyways that led to this place, but by the looks of them, Nightdrift guessed that no one–at least no house cat with better options–had come this way in a long time.

The more he looked around, the more Nightdrift realized that eyes were on them. In the shadows, behind different structures. They were all slinking around. He couldn’t count them all.

The she-cat cleared her throat as she turned to face them, and Nightdrift was forced to look at her. 

But she seemed to sense his nerves, and waved a dismissive paw. “Oh, don’t mind the lot, they’ve just got nothing better to do than to spy on strangers.” She whipped her head around, and in an instant her friendly demeanor changed to show her long, sharp fangs. “Beat it, will ya?! You’re scaring the guests. Shoo, before I make ya!” 

As soon as she spoke, the eyes were gone. Nightdrit heard the soft sound of pawsteps hurrying away, and he blinked at this cat, marveling at how easily she had controlled them. “They must really respect you!” 

The she-cat shrugged, humbly. “The name’s Ash. Pleasure to meet ya. Clan cats, I presume?”

“WindClan,” Nightdrift told her.

“RiverClan, both of us,” Bramblefin added, nodding at Twistedshine, who was beside him.

“Yeah, yeah, pleasure,” Twistedshine grumbled, “look, we’re kind of in a hurry, so if you could please–”

“Mama!” 

Two little kits sprang out of the darkness. Nightdrift blinked as they nuzzled their mother, baffled that he failed to hear their approach. Perhaps the talking blocked it out. He bit back a yawn. Or perhaps he was just getting really tired. He had promised Kestralspot and Pepperfoot that he would be back by dusk. By the time they got back, it would be dawn. 

*Stars, can my paws even carry me so far?* Nightdrift found himself slumping to the ground.

“Oh my!” Ash turned to her son, a little white tom with yellow eyes. “Scooter, be a doll, fetch these nice folk some bedding, okay dear?”

“Okay!” Scooter chirped loudly before springing away.

“We’re not really going to be here long–” Twistedshine began to decline.

“Are you hungry?” Ash asked the group when her daughter–a black tortie with orange flecks, like her mother–nipped at her tail. “Ha! I know someone who could use a bite.” She gently batted the kit away. “Patience, Cody. You’ll eat soon enough, but not if you shred my fur off!”

Cody ducked her head. “Sorry momma!”

Ash returned her attention once again to the group. “So, Clan cats, eh? Why, you must have walked a long way to find me. Either you’re lost, or my mother sent you.”

Bramblefin tilted his head. “Elderly kittypet? Yeah, you look a little like her.”

Ash wrinkled her snout playfully. “Ha! Don’t say that, I don’t like being insulted in my own home.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Scooter! Wonderful job, love,” Ash broke off as her son returned.He carried something thin and long enough to drag behind him for a few tail-lengths. It was an off-pink colour, and decidedly not moss. But, testing it with a paw, it seemed comfortable enough, and Nightdrift couldn’t resist leaning into the soft touch, letting the strange warmth soak up the soreness in his feet.

“Enough pleasantries!” Twistedshine snapped. “We’re looking for our missing kin. Your mother said that they came here. Now, where are they?”

Ash’s whiskers gave the slightest twitch, but other than that she gave away no indication that the RiverClan she-cat’s words had offended her. Instead, she grabbed a hold of the kittypet-moss and stretched it out so that it was big enough for her three guests to settle onto it comfortably. When she was done, she patted it with a paw, indicating that she wanted them to rest on it anyway. 

“Your fur’s a mess!” Ash pointed out kindly. “You look exhausted, and you know I ain’t deaf, right? I can hear your stomachs growling. Is that the state you want your loved ones to see ya in? I don’t think so,” she finished before anyone could answer. “Now, rest up! I’ll be right back with some nice plump chicken. Cody, Scooter, come along! Help me pick out the best meat.”

Nightdrift watched her go, little ones scampering after, then looked at the strange, odd-coloured, incredibly soft kittypet moss. His paws shuffled under him, feeling the smallest of rocks that cut into his sore pads, numb from the night’s travels, and it didn’t take long before he was almost nonconsciously stepping onto the material. A sigh escaped him. It really was so soft! It took everything in him not to roll onto his side and off his paws entirely.

Bramblefin hesitated a moment longer before joining him, sniffing at the pink thing cautiously, while Twistedshine only let out another growl of annoyance, pacing to and fro while they waited for Ash and her kits to return.

“How old would you say those kits are?” Bramblefin wondered.

“Three moons, I think,” Nightdrift answered. “Why?”

Bramblefin shrugged, and his ears flattened in embarrassment. But his thoughts were apparently too great to be contained, and he ended up spilling, “if I hadn’t been such a coward and just told Feathergaze how I felt, maybe we could have made something.”

“Like kits?”

“She was hunting when the flood hit. Right by the river. I don’t know if it’s selfish but…sometimes I wonder if she would have been safer if she was confined to the nursery. Then she wouldn’t have been swept away to who-knows-where.”

“We KNOW where,” Nightdrift assured him. “Here. They came HERE. We are about to find them. We’re just going to eat first, and then Ash will tell us where to go. We’ll see them again.”

Bramblefin nodded, eyes troubled, but he didn’t argue further.

“What about you, WindClan?” Twistedshine’s voice cut through the crisp air. It was hoarse, strained from the hours spent yowling her sister’s name. “There a reason you came all this way with us. Is there something YOU were hoping to confess to?”

Nightdrift shook his head. “No, I have someone else.” His heart momentarily soared as he thought of his loving mate, and the two kits that they shared. He couldn’t wait to return to them, to hold them. “Meadowtree and I weren’t all that close. But I promised her parents I would help them look.”

“Because everybody else gave up.” Twistedshine’s words didn’t need to be poised as a question. 

“Hey.” Nightrit caught her blind eye. “We are about to prove to them that they are wrong.”

Twistedshine stood still for a heartbeat or two, then dipped her head, brows furrowed with renewed determination. A moment later, Ash reappeared, dragging another of the strange kittypet-moss. Nightdrift wondered if they were meant to eat it, when a StarClan-blessed scent hit his nose and he saw the pieces of meat laying atop the material as Ash pulled it closer. Cody and Scooter bounced on their paws after her, watching curiously.

Nightrift had no idea what a chicken was, but he saw the plump, if a little dry, meat, and his mouth had watered in seconds. He forced himself to hold back, gesturing for Bramblefin and Twistedshine to go ahead first. Twistedshine didn’t see him, of course, but the amazing smell drew her in and she began to take rapid mouthfuls. When Bramblefin backed up to give Nightdrit room, he all but dove in, feeling the ripples of hunger roll through his belly as he bit into the unfamiliar, wonderful food.

At last they were satisfied. They stepped away from the meat, now a pile of crumbs, and returned to the original kittypet-moss. 

“Thank you!” Bramblefin told Ash as he licked his lips.

“I couldn’t get enough of it,” Nightdrift told her.

Ash’s eyes glowed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. What about you, dear? Was it up to your liking?” she asked Twistedshine.

Twistedshine didn’t respond. Nightdrift guessed that she was upset with herself for getting distracted.

Ash blinked sympathetically. “Missing your kits, I take it?”

Twistedshine’s muzzle swung to her. “How did you know?”

Ash laughed. “Well, it’s hardly a secret, love! You smell of milk and kittens. Stale, though. Am I right to say that they’re weaned?”

Twistedshine looked like she was about to snap at Ash to mind her business. Then the lock in her jaw relaxed and she replied, “they’re about a moon older than yours.”

“Do they have a father?”

“Of course they do!”

“Good!” Ash cheered. “Kitties need two parents, I like to think. You never know what could happen to one.” Her gaze drifted to her little ones, who had begun wrestling each other in a ball of fluff. 

“Well, nothing’s going to happen to him. And nothing’s going to happen to me.” Twistedshine’s cold demeanor had returned.

Ash shook her head. “There’s so much that is out of our control, dear. So much that we want to take back. My mother…did she tell you about Red?”

“Your sister’s kit?” Nightdrift guessed. His stomach felt weird.

“Her eldest,” Ash confirmed. “Her precious son. He was such a mama’s boy! I got the news after I found out I was expecting. I told my sis that I was going to have kits, and she told me hers was dead. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

Nightdrift grimaced as a headache hit him. By Bramblefin’s expression, it had struck him as well. They shared a fearful look. 

Nightdrift stood. “We should get going–” but as soon as he was on his paws, his stomach cramped painfully and he fell into a crouch, hissing through the pain.

Ash made no move to help him. The kits broke away from their game and now sat, watching the Clan cats.

Ash let the facade fully fall, and she sneered at them with a face as chill as a blizzard. “Clan cats took him away from us. I’m only returning the favour.”

“Please!” Bramblefin gasped. “We don’t know who Red is!”

Nightdrit’s mind was racing. “R..Redjay? The ShadowClan warrior?”

“Ah, so you DO know him!”

Nightdrift coughed. “Yes, he died of sickness. But that–arg–that w-was an accident. It happens.” 

Ash struck out a paw, cuffing Nightdrift harshly around the ears and making the already painful headache into a blinding one. “The medicine cat refused to treat him. Does that happen?” she challenged.

“Hickoryskip?” Bramblefin struggled to understand. When Ash didn’t blink, he asked, “Gorsedaisy?” He was hardly able to get the name out at all.

ShadowClan’s medicine cat let their own warrior die? Why? And why were they being punished for it now?

“Wee’re nod ShadowClan…” Twistedshine’s speech was becoming slurred. “We had no id-idea.”

“I believe you,” Ash said simply. “That doesn’t mean I care.”

“Pleeze!” Nightdrift couldn’t lift himself from the ground. His stomach cramped agonizingly, as though claws were digging into his stomach, and his muscles had become loose and uncoordinated, unable to be controlled no matter how hard he willed them to move. “My…my kit’ds…need m-m-me.”

He had to get home.

He had to get to his family.

He had to.

Ash tilted her head to one side. “You believe in spirits, don’t you?”

“Yhe,” Nightdrift grunted. His vision was growing darker, black spots dotted around his periphery like an ugly mass of beetles. He wondered if Twistedshine really had stopped moving, or if that was just his eyes. 

Ash smiled. “Then pray to them. Beg them to save you, and know that they will do nothing, like ShadowClan did nothing to protect my nephew.”

Nightdrift tried to respond, to plead, to beg–her or the Stars, but his tongue filled his mouth, any speech he made at this point were only nonsense sounds. He coughed as bile rose up his throat. His last thoughts were of his newborn kits, tucked away safely in the nursery, of how he would never get to hold them close again or raise them to be the best warriors that they could be. Then it all faded to black.

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--Changed my mind about Twistedshine surviving!

--They were poisoned with antifreeze.

Doomsday Machine

- He would 110% have a major crush on Myrtle, but he’d be way too shy to do anything about it

- his parents are Hawksplash and Nightdrift, and his brother is Sheepkit/Sheepsorrel

OH MY GOD YES

Among a thousand other things, I've been updating the Cyrus character model for Mallory Bash, to get his likeness more like Dave Matthews, to keep the likeness there but simplified to fit the IP style, and to concretize the model itself.

He's gone through a lot of relatively minor changes that add up a lot.

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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