#pricklepelt

“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.”

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--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. 

well folks, this is it. last season. i know this blog isn't over, and we exist in a very timeless communication loop, where i write to you from a month in the future, and you write to me in the present, and i write back to you a month later. but. it's still been a ride with you. there are things i won't share about the behind-the-scenes of wbcd, (family trees because it's best if we don't ruminate on how many times i missed an obvious relation, for example, and if you notice one that i didn't make private once i did notice, feel free to let me know so i can fix that), but there have been times when i've been looking down a season and thought, "i think they're going to like this."

anyway. uh. i was trying to save real serious ramblings for the wrap-up post, but i get emotional sometimes.

aspenstar, at the ripe old age of 14 years, dies. sandstar makes nettlerun deputy, and bluestrike takes up pinepaw's training. cloudglow leaves riverclan, but that will be covered later.

pricklepelt dies.

mistshimmer and greyjaw become warriors.

yellowpaw is apprenticed to harelight, while the other two kits in the litter (dawnkit and leopardkit) die.

and that's it. that's how riverclan ends. i'm doing a clan-level notes as well as a big plot wrap-up at the end, but riverclan ends lead by a mother, the way it began (in the very, very beginning — not in the beginning of wbcd). no, really: two of sandstar's kits have survived. noddingwing and orangepetal.

Local lesbian tunnellers Tigerleg and Pricklepelt and their son joint apprentice Raggedpaw. The three of them are a pretty fearsome looking group- Tigerleg is a HUGE lady, especially for a tunneller, with thick dark tabby fur and white highlights (my personal favorite being a white goatee/chin). Meanwhile Pricklepelt is brown and spiky af, with Raggedpaw being scraggly and almost pale.

They’re absolute dorks. Tigerleg isn’t much of a talker but when she does he gushes about her wife. Pricklepelt is super friendly and loves making friends. Raggedpaw infodumps constantly.

But then Tigerleg’s parents have a new kiddo, Nightpaw, who becomes a moor runner. When her brother, Harenose, always wanted to be, and they never let him. And now he’s dead. And now Nightpaw is stuck in the middle of warring parents and a distant sister, trying to make ends meet.

Myrtlewing woke to the feeling of being poked with a claw on his nose. He flinched back. “Ow!”

Aldereyes stood over him, because of course it was him. “Get up. You're coming with me to train.”

Myrtlewing shifted to a sitting position and yawned. “You do realize that I’m a medicine cat, right?”

“Of course I remember. It’s the only position you could have where no one would judge you for fleeing in a battle. No one’s sick,” Aldereyes added. “The Clan should learn how to fight against bigger enemies.” He said that looking briefly to the ground. 

Fleetsong had died three days ago. Myrtlewing had initially planned to sneak back through the dirtplace, but because Fleetsong ended up being mauled by a dog, he didn’t have to pretend. He told them the truth, or part of it–that Fleetsong offered to help him gather herbs while he was still awake, and they were attacked by a dog. Myrtlewing managed to climb up a tree in time, but Fleetsong wasn’t so lucky.

He forced himself to frown in spite of the very different emotion he felt. Fleetsong hadn’t died right away. The dog was chased off by a dawn patrol–another blessing for Myrtlewing, because it meant that he might have been caught if not for the beast. Fleetsong was then brought back to camp, where Myrtlewing would heal him. Poor tom was so terrified, knowing the truth but unable to tell it. Myrtlewing gave him some special herbs, and that was it. He had hung his head after that, telling Stormstar that their Clanmate was already too far gone.

“I’m a medicine cat,” Myrtlewing repeated, “I don’t need to fight.”

“I can tell that by looking at you. But you almost died.” Was that a shimmer  in his eyes? “And as useless as you are at everything you do, you’re the Clan’s only medicine cat and we cannot afford for something to happen to you.”

Right. Myrtlewing smirked. That’s why.

He followed Aldereyes out of the den and to one of the training clearings, making sure to tell Mossflake where he would be and to fetch him if anyone needed him. 

The training had already begun by the time they arrived. Molespots and Pricklepelt were circling each other, while Hootpetal and Cedarsky wrestled on the ground. Upon seeing Aldereyes, they straightened and watched him, waiting for instruction. Myrtlewing couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of pride at the respect their Clanmates held in his friend. Aldereyes wasn’t even deputy, and he was younger than Molespots and Pricklepelt by many moons, yet they still looked to him for guidance. 

He kept mostly on the sidelines, but listened intently as Aldereyes gave instructions, explaining to his Clanmates how to fight a bigger predator in contrast to another warrior, and when he asked Molespots and Pricklepelt to share any knowledge they had on the topic. After all, he may need to use this information one day, whether as prey or predator. 

“The best element of all,” Aldereyes was saying, “is surprise.” With that, he whipped around and tackled Myrtlewing, who was behind him, without warning, grabbing him by the shoulder and flinging him to the ground. Myrtlewing only blinked in startlement as Aldereyes pretended to bite his throat. 

He felt it was all so funny. Only three days prior, he had done the same thing to Fleetsong, only much harsher, shoving the tom onto the forest floor and slitting his throat with his claws. Aldereyes would make an amazing killer. 

—-----------------

After the training was over, the group parted. Aldereyes took Pricklepelt and Hootpetal to hunt, only after hinting to Myrtlewing that maybe he wouldn’t have been so easy to tackle if he had some muscle–which Myrtlewing most definitely did. 

Myrtlewing told them that since he was out, he would gather some herbs, and passed up the offer of traveling with a warrior. The dog had been chased back to its Twoleg, and both were long gone by now. Plus, there was the most obvious reason: he was hoping to meet with Nightfly, and didn’t want anybody to see him.

Arriving at the border, he was pleasantly surprised to see the dark grey tom already pacing back and forth along the scent line. 

“Hello,” he called.

Nightfly leaped into the air, landing semi-gracefully. When he saw Myrtlewing, he practically ran over. “Hi!” he called back, hardly able to contain his smile. “I wasn’t sure if, you know, I was supposed to come here. Was I? You’re not just here for an unrelated reason? I’m sorry if you are–”

Myrtlewing gave him a reassuring smile back. “I’m here for you.” 

“Oh!” Nightfly somehow seemed to both stiffen and melt. He looked around, as if distracting himself from the mixing feelings, and his eyes landed on the crumpled patch of flowers. “Good thing you gathered them when you did,” he said jokingly.

“Yeah,” Myrtlewing mumbled. Should he still use the flowers to cheer Aldereyes up, as he had planned? It had been a while since Stormstar–or Maplefall–had gotten on the golden tom’s nerves. There was still the flower that Nightfly had picked for him, laying on the ground apart from the others. It was in much better condition than its counterparts, since it had no longer been part of the bush when Myrtlewing clawed it apart in frustration. 

“Speaking of….” Nightfly’s voice began to trail away, and he forced it back up. “I…I spotted another flower on the border here. It wasn’t part of the ground or anything, and there was nothing like it around, so I was wondering if maybe that meant that it was left. Or maybe the wind just blew it,” he added quickly. 

“I was hoping you would find it,” Myrtlewing told him. He had taken Molespots’s advice. When the older tom had suggested flowers after Myrtlewing said that he wanted to show someone he cares, it gave him an idea. Of course, he didn’t mean it romantically, but he could certainly trick Nightfly into thinking that’s what simple plants means. The fool was already quivering any time Myrtlewing looked at him. 

He went with hyacinth, hoping its bright colours would make it stand out against the yellow-green moor. “We can’t talk long,” he went on, “patrols will be coming by.”

“Right!” Nightfly’s tail fell. 

“This was great, though,” Myrtlewing went on. “I like seeing you.” He wanted to vomit at his own words, but Nightfly brightened once again. “We should do it again. Perhaps at the next Gathering?” 

“Sure!” Nightfly’s eyes practically flooded with affection. Then his attention flicked to something behind Myrtlewing. “Itwasgreatseeingyoutoobye!” and he was off, leaping back over the hill. Myrtlewing glanced behind him and saw a Shadowclan patrol approach. 

“Who was that?” they asked.

“Just a Windclan warrior,” Myrtlewing answered. 

“Okay, well we’re heading back to camp after this,” Briartalon, who was leading, spoke. “Do you want to come back with us?”

“Sure,” Myrtlewing responded. His eyes drifted to the dark petals at the bottom of the hill. Padding over, he picked the flower up in his jaws, and followed his Clanmates back to the camp.

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

--Myrtle likely got the flower from a Twoleg garden

--Finally getting to the ‘Alder thinking Myrtle likes him’ part!

--His Clanmates likely won’t use the ‘how to fight a big predator’ moves on him if he tried to kill them, but best to listen just in case they tried to.

Tanglepaw!

The youngest victim of Alderstar.

Upset that Myrtlewing couldn't save his mother, Pricklepelt, Tanglepaw spoke poorly about the medicine cat. This sparked Alderstar's anger, and he killed the apprentice. It was this death that was witnessed by a patrol, leading to Alderstar's exile and later death.

Pricklepelt's death was seen in a story before, kept sick by Myrtlewing so that he could kill her any time he wanted as an excuse to 'go to the Moonpool and ask Starclan for answers.'

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Heavyshade - big boned dark grey/brown tom

Family: Loudstep (father), Marigoldleaf (mother) Gender / Sexuality: tom / bisexual Personality: honest, brave, confident Backstory: Even in the harshest of bare-leafs Heavyshade never lost his shape. A big boned tom, Heavyshade has always been an admired warrior. His big body makes him any enemies worst nightmare. He’s not going to go running easily. Often scary to kits at first, Heavyshade’s indifference grows on the clan. Honest and well mannered, Heavyshade isnt overly popular, but no one would say they hate him. Heavyshade often is put on patrols, his presence often soothing to the rest of the patrol when he’s there. Heavyshade just rarely feels scared or frightened since most cats are smaller than him or his size. He hasnt come across an enemy he hasnt been able to take down.  Ideal Partner: the smol one, the pretty one, or gimme the lithe fighter, or the main good hunter, or maybe a fellow big boi Position | Clan: Warrior | Thrushclan

Shimmerveil - black tabby queen with white undercoat

Family: Wolfwhisper (father, deceased), Brightstream (mother, deceased) Gender / Sexuality: shecat / bisexual - tom leaning  Personality: sweetheart, you just want what’s best for her Backstory: Losing both her parents during her apprentice moons, Shimmerveil had no proud smiling parents at her warrior ceremony. Instead who she had there was her overly proud mentor; Heavyshade. Now as a warrior, Shimmerveil had gotten pregnant seasons ago, but lost her two kits before their third moon to kitten cough. Of course she didn’t blame herself, but threw herself into her warrior work. Distracting herself with hunting and patrolling, she finds herself spending time in the nursery with the kits even though she doesn’t have any.  Shimmerveil would love to have another litter, but worries if she chooses the wrong Tom, Starclan will take her kits again. Her heart feels empty without having kits though, and she’s obviously so good with them. Sometimes one can find her staring longingly at the apprentice den, as kits she slept in the nursery with, become little warriors while hers remain kits hunting in Starclan. Ideal Partner: father of her first litter, or maybe someone who also throws themselves into their work, someone with strong beliefs in starclan Position | Clan: Warrior | Thrushclan

Pricklepelt - very fluffy white tom with pale calico patches

She looks that way bc she’s a Lykoi mix. Unfortunately, none of the clan cats knew why she only has half her fur, and I think Myrtle would be extremely frustrated when he couldn’t get the fur to grow back

oh, she looks so good!! you did the lykoi design so well!!

it might also help to sell 'she was sick,' if the Clan isn't familiar with those kinds of cats

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