#wolfburn

Wolfburn Whisky "Vibrant Stills" 10 y.o. Oloroso Sherry Butts

--Blossomtuft (Maple’s and Wolf’s daughter)

--Wolf and Maple then have Boulderkit to help with their grief

--Maple is killed

--Boulder is killed

Wolfburn Whisky 12 y.o.

Wolfburn 12 Year Old is a Scottish single malt whisky from the Highlands region. It comes from the Wolfburn Distillery, which was revived in 2013 near its original 19th-century location in Thurso – the northernmost town on the British mainland.

Every hair stood on end, as if they too wanted to flee, but were stuck clinging to the trembling body that couldn’t lift her paws off the ground. Her eyes threatened to burst from her skull if she, somehow, managed to stretch them any further. 

Perhaps she should shut them. She would shut them, and she would wake up, and she would realize that it had all been a horrible nightmare. A figment of her imagination. And what an imagination it was, too. To think that their medicine cat was trying to hide a body.

Dawnmoth had awoken early, and decided to go for an unproductive walk, catching something only if she felt like it. The Clan still had plenty of food on the fresh-kill pile, and prey was running wonderfully. Beneath the morning dew had been the scent of blood. Cat blood. She had approached the scent in case someone needed her help, keeping low and silent just to be safe.

All the scenarios in her mind– caught in a trap, caught by a fox, trapped beneath a fallen branch– could not match to the horrifying reality. Myrtlewing– her medicine cat, her friend– was digging in the soil. His eyes betrayed no emotion, his lips only moving in concentration. Their Clanmate, Wolfburn, lay a few paw steps from him, his eyes glazed over and his mouth slightly agape.

Dawnmoth, taken aback, had first decided that Wolfburn had died in an accident or something of the like, and Myrtlewing was simply doing the right thing by burying him. But why no vigil? Why no announcement to the rest of the Clan? Most importantly, where did the long, oozing scar on Wolfburn’s belly come from? And oh, oh why must Myrtlewing whistle so happily?

Dawnmoth felt as though she had been standing there, staring at the digging, at the body, for twice an eternity. Really, it had only been a few heartbeats. Long enough to sneak away again and warn the Clan. Long enough to emit  a nearly undetectable squeak of horror. Dawnmoth was unfortunate enough to do the latter.

Myrtlewing’s ears swiveled. His head whipped and his eyes focused directly on the bush Dawnmoth was hiding beneath. She didn’t wait to find out if he could see her, and fled. Her head pounded with the blood that roared in her ears, soaking into her mouth, screaming at her to vomit. She held on, swallowing, not breathing, her paws skimming the grass as though she were flying. Behind her, she could hear the frustrated growls of Myrtlewing as he thundered after.

Then Dawnmoth came crashing to a halt. So paralyzed of mind, she hadn’t noticed the tree blocking her path. Er.. tree? Shaking her head, her vision cleared, and she looked up. Dawnmoth’s shoulders slumped. She gasped in relief, almost crying. Her leader, her savior, was gazing down at her. She was safe now.

Alderstar raised a brow. He looked at Myrtlewing as the medicine cat caught up, then back at Dawnmoth, who quickly hid behind his larger frame. He raised his head and spoke with the authority of one thousand bloodlines, ears flat as he stared down Myrtlewing. “What exactly is it that you think you are doing?”

Myrtlewing didn’t bother with an answer. Clearly, he knew that he was defeated. Realization struck Dawnmoth. “He killed our Clanmates!” she growled, feeling freer to do it now that someone was with her. “Birchcloud…. Blossomtuft….Owlfang.. We thought they all left! But it was you, wasn’t it?” she forced her voice not to shake any more than it already was. Some of these Clanmates have been missing for seasons, and in all that time Myrtlewing would go about his day, acting as if nothing were wrong, laughing, joking, comforting their loved ones! 

Her throat tightened when his glowering gaze lit her, but she went on. “His latest victim was Wolfburn. I saw him digging a grave next to his body!”

Throughout Dawnmoth’s shocking announcement, Alderstar had listened silently, but Dawnmoth could feel his muscles stiffen with every word. 

“Did you kill Wolfburn?” Alderstar hissed.

Myrtlewing lifted his chin. “He was asking for it. Constantly getting one injury after another. He was wasting my herbs!”

Alderstar bared his teeth. “Was your eagerness worth it? You were lucky no one saw you kill him. You should be more cautious when you get rid of the body next time.”

What?

“How was I supposed to know?” Myrtlewing shrugged. “That’s more your area.”

What?!

Alderstar turned around. His eyes, seemingly warm moments ago, now burned with a vicious thirst, gazing at Dawnmoth as if she were delicious prey. He gave me my warrior name! 

“How am I always helping you clean up your messes?”

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Yesssss!

I’ve been waiting for so long to introduce these characters, and by that I mean the few weeks that they existed in my mind.