#poisonclan

It wasn’t our fault.

The famine came like a storm, unexpected and screaming with the wrath of Starclan. No cat could have seen it coming, not even the best of medicine cats. That’s what we tell ourselves each day, engrave it into our heads so that we don’t drive ourselves insane with guilt.

It wasn’t our fault.

There wasn’t a single piece of prey left in that wretched forest. We sent our warriors to every edge of the territory, and found nothing. One by one we were starving. There wasn’t anything we could do…until we found it.

It wasn’t our fault.

Crowfood. Spoiled prey. Fox’s leftovers. Call if what you want, it wasn’t tasty. We didn’t know it would hurt us. None of us knew.

It wasn’t our fault.

So many cats died in those few short days, taking their last breaths as the sun rose and fell with tantalising glory. The sickness rushed through camp, knocked us off our paws and left us helpless. We knew we had to leave that place, flee the only home we had ever known. Too many soured memories. Too much guilt.

It wasn’t our fault.

We found a new place, started weaving new memories and cleansing the survivor’s guilt buried deep into our souls. We named ourselves, this ragtag bunch of half-starved survivors, Poisonclan. To commemorate those we lost.