#wc banshee

Shallow I remember liking the idea that he sort of looks like a fennec fox!

He had a litter with someone he wasn’t all that close with. Once they were weaned, he was given full custody. Those kits are:

Then he and Banshee got together!

They had:

Banshee herself looks like this:

(Bonus sister)

Their mother, Plague, is here:

Shallowfig came to a halt, flicking his tail to tell his family to do the same. Ahead of them was a dead blackberry bush with leaves as dark as its namesake. It was only that, a bush, yet the gaps in the branches lifted the fur along Shallowfig’s spine. He stared at the dark dapples, and a face stared right back. Whether it was from a trick of the lighting, or his mind playing tricks on him–as it had been ever since Plague tried to kill Hootpetal and Banshee–he couldn’t tell.

“What is this place?” Tendril asked from behind him. Shallowfig just barely avoided jumping.

He  took a breath and a step back, moving his mind to wonder how long they would have to wait, but before he exhaled, Bella-May poked her head out from between the thin branches. “You’re here!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Come in, come in!”

Shallowfig stepped back, motioning for Banshee and the kits to go through the normal rotting bush, and then followed at the tail. He had not visited his older kins’ home before, though they had visited him as a kit, and he was curious to know what so many of his family had made their homes to be, if it reflected something in Shallowfig–some indication of their blood relation, somehow. Did they both enjoy hanging vines?

But before he could look around, he found himself suffocating on fur. Legs squeezed around his neck. He panicked, struggling for a few seconds before Bella-May pulled back, and he realized, almost laughing at himself, that it was only his great-great-grandmother embracing him.

“I heard what happened,” she mewed sorrowfully, licking his ears. “If I had been there, I would have ripped that she-dung’s tail off and stuffed it down her throat.”

Banshee flinched. Shallowfig touched his tail to her side to calm her. 

“I….I have a favour to ask,” Shallowfig began.

“Myrtle  told me,” Bella-May responded as he searched for the right words. “You lot can stay here for as long as you need, darling.”

Shallowfig let his shoulders sag, soothed by her kind voice. He looked over his shoulder, at his kits. Racemekit, Tendrilkit, Poppykit, Mylingkit, and their younger half-siblings, Glasskit and Pagruskit. Cold ice slithered down his spine, gripping his bones and veins and causing his body to shake and heart to fall. He had come so close to losing them. Never again will that happen.

“They need to be trained,” Shallowfig explained. 

“I’m not much of a mentor,” Bella-May replied. Shallowfig understood that, she had been a loner. “But I won’t turn down time with the little kitties.” She blinked warmly at the kits, emitting a soft chuckle when Poppykit squealed when Glasskit bit her tail. 

“They don’t need to train to hunt or the ways of Clan life,” Shallowfig told her. The daily routines of the Clans were foreign to him as well. “They need to know how to protect themselves. They need to know how to….deal with attackers and dangers.” He didn’t want to say it out loud, for the sake of the kits’ and his own ears. He couldn’t say that he wanted his kits to be trained to be killers to keep them from being another victim of Plague, that he was willing to let them grow to be monsters, risking the lives of anyone or everyone they may hurt, so that they couldn’t be.

Thankfully, understanding flashed in Bella-May’s eyes. She smiled widely. Shallowfig tried not to focus on her glinting fangs. “I thought kits didn’t train until six cycles.”

“The four are half a moon from that,” Banshee spoke up, gathering their wrestling kits around her. “The two are two.”

Bella-May tilted her head far to the side. “My question appears to stand.”

“It doesn’t need to be intensive or harsh,” Shallowfig went on. “Preferably, it isn’t, not…at least…not while they’re so young.” He knew that to give them the best chances of survival, training had to push them further than any other cats could bear. Just not yet. They could be kits for a while yet.

“Some pouncing and sneaking lessons should do,” Bella-May thought. “We can make them games.” She swept her tail slowly, enticingly around. Racemekit took the bait and waggled his hips before leaping  for the ginger-tipped tail. Bella-May flicked it out of the way in a flash, grabbing Racemekit with sheathed paws, just before he could land, and pressed him to the ground to make chewing noises against his belly. Racemekit kicked out, squealing and giggling.

Shallowfig allowed himself a few heartbeats to watch and enjoy the moment. Then Pagruskit’s yawn brought him back. They had to rest. “Are you sure it’s not trouble?” he checked. “We could stay somewhere else–”

“Absolutely not,” Bella-May responded firmly. “You ought to stay here where great-ma can keep an eye on you.”

“Is it not too much–”

“Hush,” Bella-May cut him off, blocking his mouth with a paw while Racemekit growled and bit on the other. “Before your droning puts the little ones to sleep.”

“How many know we were coming?” Banshee asked nervously. She had a tendency to anxiety when she was around those she didn’t know. Shallowfig would have stayed with her family, but that was exactly who they were hiding from.

“Everyone,” Bella-May answered cheerfully. “And they’re so excited to meet y’all! Now come along, come along, let us show the nests we made for ya.”

Banshee took the lead once again, the kits following in a ragged line behind her. Shallowfig looked behind him, through the gaps in the bush. He no longer saw the eyes, yet the fear in him remained the same. He was seeing, too far to really see, his old den where his kits were born, where Banshee became his mate, where his mother nearly died. He was seeing himself as a fun-loving kit without a care in the world, and he knew, knew as well as he knew that the fur on his pelt was pale golden, that he was likely taking away that for his own kits. 

He turned his head back and padded after his family. Ahead, Tendrilkit sneezed a high-pitched sound, and Glasskit opened her little jaws in a massive, pink yawn. Shallowfig’s eyes pricked. They were so precious now, so perfect and innocent. Whatever happened in the future, whether or not by Plague’s doing–Dark Stars hope not, sending the kits to train the way that they would be was going to change them forever. Shallowfig could only hope that he was making the right choice, and that it was worth it.

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

@ambitiousauthor

if Banshee and Shallow ever do end up together, I imagine it would be a loooong time. 

Shallow was the one to step away because he didn’t want to hurt Waspbeak or Falleniris anymore, and he didn’t want to risk compromising their saftey by having Plague close by--much as he trusted Banshee.

Not to mention the fact that Fallen and Wasp were manipulated into trusting someone before they were attacked. He doesn’t want to think that way about Banshee, but there’s doubt, how can there not be?

So they grow up and mostly move on, but there’s always some missing piece in his heart. He knows he should be happy in many moments most would be laughing, but he just feels empty.

He even has a kit or kits of his own with a she-cat, though they broke things off when the kits were weaned and Shallow was given full custody.

And then maybe Banshee finds the kits, who have explored and gotten lost, and returns them home, following their scent trail. And then he sees Shallow.

So Banshee is probably greatly missing that sisterly bond, and ends up finding it somewhere unexpected: with her mate’s sisters

She Scarred both girls with a little cross on their foreheads to mark them as her "heirs" (something that was done to her since she was in a position of power in her old rouge group), and was pretty emotionally abusive and physically negligent. She never hit them (she has a no hitting kits rule, despite what she did to Wasp) but she told them to "play" (train) with their claws out . She also didn't stop Usula from wailing on Banshee all the time, because she was the "stronger" child who would have taken Plague's place in the old rogue group.

All this leads up to when Banshee finally leaves, Plague strikes her for the first time, clawing across the cross scar as her way of disowning Banshee.

.

.

.

.

“Bansheee! Banshee Banshee!”

Banshee’s head shot up in startlement, nearly knocking Glasskit out of the nest. Glasskit glared at their great-uncle as they clambered back in.

“Yes, Stubs?” Banshee asked tiredly. 

“Oh, nothing. I just like saying your name.”

Banshee grumbled a reply and stuck her head beneath her paws as she tried to go back to sleep. 

Blinking after their ridiculous kin, Glasskit decided they weren’t that tired, rather quite the opposite, and padded after Stubs until he realized someone was following him. He grinned, wide and toothy. “Glassy lassie-laddie!”

“Don’t call me that,” Glasskit responded. “Can we train?”

Stubs tilted his head. “Train? Little kit, you’re still only three!”

“So? I want to train now!”

Stubs shrugged. “You got me there.” He gestured for them to follow him and lead the way to one of the many clearings ‘fenced’--as the family would say–by the thorns. Stopping in the center, he turned to face Glasskit. “So what do you want to know? Offense? Defense?”

“Off-what?” Glasskit asked, utterly confused.

“Uh–how to attack or how to fight off an attack?”

Glasskit considered that for a moment. “Attack!” they decided enthusiastically. 

Stubs’s eyes sparked. He leapt at Glasskit with his claws unsheathed. Shrieking in surprise, Glasskit ran behind a small cluster of stones, leaving Stubs to land expertly on the ground and look after them in confusion. 

“Don’t just jump at me!” Glasskit hissed, annoyance and fright apparent in their bristling fur.

Stubs blinked a few times. Then he shrugged again, sat down, and waited for Glasskit to reproach him. Glasskit did so quickly–they weren’t afraid, they had only been startled, but as soon as Glasskit was near, Stubs moved. As swift as a slippery fish, his paw swung, landing hard on Glasskit’s tail. Glasskit began to yowl when Stubs, more gently, pushed at their face, cutting them off. 

“No time to be in pain,” he instructed.

“Well, I am!” Glasskit growled, eyes stinging and pricking with tears as their tail was squashed against the ground.

“Then hold it and save it for later, when you’re somewhere safe. Now’s the time for focusing, gotcha? Focus. What do ya do?”

Glasskit searched around them for an answer, as if the thorns in the near-distance would reach into their ear and say it to them, but everywhere their eyes reached was blocked by the knowledge, the feeling of pain on their tail, and they struggled to push it away. Think!

They went limp, hoping Stubs would guess that they had given up. “Nuh-uh, try again,” Stubs told them. “Cats here don’t care if you admit defeat, they’ll rip your belly out as soon as they think ya weak enough to allow them. Don’t let them think that.”

Okay, something else then. Stubs was clearly expecting them to do something, and they will, but they had to do what was not expected of them. So what could throw off their great-uncle long enough to give them a chance? 

What did Stubs expect? My tail hurts so much!–it’s just pain, get over it. Now, what did Stubs expect? Glasskit looked back at their tail, where it was being held. The closest part of Stubs to them was his paw. He obviously expected them to attack that, perhaps bite his toe. Glasskit didn’t want to do what was expected, yet if it was the only part of his body they could harm, what else could they do?

“It hurts too much!” Glasskit wailed, voice trembling. 

Stubs’s ears twitched. “Ah, well, maybe we can finish this lat–”

Before he could finish, Glasskit spun around. The movement caused their tail to stretch unbearably, but they pushed through it. Biting hard onto Stub’s sheathed claw, they yanked their head back while pushing at the toe with their much smaller front paws. After a couple tugs, Glasskit thought that they must be too small to pull it off, but on the third, their head swung back far, thudding onto the ground, and they realized, claw in mouth, that they had managed to pull it off–quite literally.

Stubs’s jaws were clamped shut, a scream of pain just managing to escape through his teeth. His eyes were screwed closed, and when they opened, they blazed with fury. “You little!”

Glasskit forced themself not to run away again or let their fear show, though their body yelled at them to run or shake. Standing tall, or as tall as they could make themself to the much larger tom, they said, “just focus on something else.”

Stubs froze. Glasskit winced, preparing for a harsh blow. Instead, laughter sounded, so loud and sudden that it still made the kit flinch. “That’sa good one! ‘Focus on something else!’ Why, ain’t you a little shit? I love it!”

Glasskit smiled, pride warming them even at the unfamiliar name. But the pride was quickly replaced with guilt as they saw the small blood trail dripping from Stubs’s toe. His face twitched in pain, but otherwise he seemed fine, and his anger was gone. “I think that’s enough for now,” he decided. “Didn’t think I would be the one with a battle scar!”

Glasskit looked at their paws.

“Ah, don’t worry ‘none, I got plenty! Come, I think Red and Myrtle should be back with dinner by now!”

Warmth returned to Glasskit’s heart, spreading down to their paws as they bounced along beside their kin. Before they got far, however, Stubs stopped. “Wait!” He hurried back to the clearing, returning with his claw hanging from his lip. Was he hoping to reattach it?

But Stubs handed it to them. “Your first trophy!” Stubs declared, sounding thrilled. “The family will be so proud!”

Glasskit could hardly contain their joy, smiling ear to ear. They didn’t know what ‘trophy’ meant, but if this was how their family reacted, they couldn’t wait to gain more.

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--Stubs messing with Banshee. Or maybe he purposefully got Glasskit’s attention cause he wanted to train them?

--Glass doesn’t go by they/them just yet, but since this is their pov, it’s how they feel currently (they are genderqueer).

--I wonder how the family (mostly Glass’s parents) will react to this news?

--Since the family has long trees, anyone greater than an uncle is a ‘great-uncle.’ So Hound is great-pa, Bella is great-ma (or Bella-ma sometimes), etc.

@ambitiousauthor

ASDFGHJHGFDSA

YOU EVEN HAVE HIS LITTLE NECKERCHIEF

HIS REF DOESN'T EVEN HAVE HIS NECKERCHIEF