tarnished silver - foxbite/goldenwing/open

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✯ SILVERSTEP ✯
but you still have all of me

:: it was cold, she mused quietly. so cold, even for this time of the season. the leaves of the trees, trees she thought she'd never see again at certain horrific times in the last moons, were becoming bare as the weather shifted, crisp green becoming a dull and quite dead brown before breaking off and falling to the ground, forming a never ending blanket of debris that crunched with each step taken. the sky above was clear as crystal, not a cloud to bee seen, and as blue as the lake. songbirds fluttered here and there, the last few that had yet to make a trip down south before the upcoming winter, the sweet songs that they sang into the wind a welcome tune in the ears of one who had been denied that simplest of pleasures for so, so long. the sun's rays, as useless as they were for warmth at this moment, somehow managed to warm even the most damaged of hearts, reaching down into the depths of one's soul and caressing each and every bruise and scar that had been left behind after so long. for moons upon moons, all she'd known was darkness and horror, starvation and hopelessness as she was stored away in a metal cage beneath a twoleg nest, kept in damp conditions that carried the threat of illness at all hours of the day and night. all around her, she could hear the moaning of other cats, all suffering the same fate she was. some were nursing queens, with kittens too small and too weak to survive such harsh conditions that it was no surprise to hear the sorrowful wails of the she-cats who had gone to sleep with their litter only to wake up a while later to a mother's worst nightmare realized. what was worse was sometimes the twolegs would forget to take the dead bodies out, or worse, forget to feed the nursing mothers - the results were enough to make even the most hardened warrior vomit as queens saw no other way but to devour their own children, only to have a tom, reeking of illness and filth, thrown in no more than a day afterward so that they could repeat the cycle.

that had been her life for the last thirteen moons, living in that hell. the twolegs had tried to do the same to her - they'd thrown in many a tom into her cage hoping to get kits from her, but silverstep refused to yield. she yowled, she clawed, she bit, she killed, and when the twolegs would return, they'd discover a she-cat who was not with kits, and the decaying corpse of her would be suitor. they could've killed her after the first time she'd done it, they could've just left her there to rot and never spoke of her again, but no. a cat of silverstep's coloring was rare and valuable, too much so to just toss aside. so they kept her fed as much as they desired to, they kept throwing toms into her cage, and when she kept killing them, they resorted to other means to get her to cooperate with their wishes. to keep her from clawing her suitors, they cut her claws, and cut far too close to the quick to keep them short for as long as possible, and began placing more aggressive and larger toms in her cage. it didn't faze her, she'd fought bigger, and once she sank her fangs in, there was no escaping. other times, they'd tried to break her spirit by having her go without food for longer periods of time before introducing toms, and in those few instances... she did what she had to do to keep herself alive. she wouldn't die, she wouldn't go quietly into the night, not without a fight. no matter what her captors did to her, whether they threw the cage with her in it, prodded her with sharp objects, or forgot to feed her for days at a time, they couldn't break her. then, one day, more twolegs stormed her captors' nest, and removed all the cats from that dark hole... all but her; she'd escaped the moment they'd opened the door, ran and never looked back, staring straight for the sun, for home.

yes, indeed it was the thought of home that had kept her going all those moons, all those horrible moons in the dark. whenever her resolve wavered even slightly, she remembered that she had a home in the forest; her darling children were waiting for her, her brave thunderstorm, her dashing tigerfang, and her little hawk-kit, all awaiting her return. hawk-kit would be an apprentice by now though - no, chances were he was already a warrior! oh, how she couldn't wait to hear his warrior name, to speak it on her own tongue! tigerfate was awaiting her too, she hoped. her beloved tigerfate, father of her children and one of her best friends. foxbite was waiting too, and so was goldenwing, her dear mentor. yes, everyone was there, awaiting her, and she'd kept them waiting long enough. those were the thoughts that kept her going now, kept her paws moving even though each step was sheer agony against her raw pawpads and broken claws. she'd not stepped foot on grass or stone in so long, and she couldn't even enjoy it. she'd not walked away from her trial by fire without scars either - each tom they put in her cage was more aggressive than the last, and they had their claws while she had none. they'd torn her ear, ripped her pelt, and just before the raid on the nest, the last tom they'd put in there with her had sliced a shallow cut in her throat. in that place, without medical help it had quickly started to fester; she could already feel infection beginning to seep into her body. at any time, she could collapse as the sickness took hold, but still she pressed on, traveling around the edge of the lake to get back to the forest she knew. before, she'd attempted to go around the long way, her delirious happiness blinding her to the fact that riverclan was not friendly to anyone anymore, and she'd been attacked there the moment a patrol had noticed her. after that, she began the shortest trek near windclan's borders, and prayed to starclan they wouldn't set on her like riverclan had.

now, here she was, broken, fast becoming sick, missing her claws and bleeding with fresh wounds, but alive and still standing as her final few steps came into view. the camp was just beyond these brambles, and in her eagerness she stepped a little quicker, blocking out the pain as best as she could. as she entered the camp however, her body finally gave way to exhaustion, and the small she-cat collapse in the entrance, unable to push her grime and dirt and dust covered form to go another step. in desperation, the she-cat began to call out, a weak and pitiful sound akin to a kit's mewl, but it was all she could muster in her state. even if no one heard her, someone would be bound to see her laying there in the entrance. or at least, she hoped they would. 'h-help... s-s-someone, pl-please...' she whispered out, trying to gain anyone's attention, but on the inside she couldn't feel anything but peace. at long last, she was in thunderclan territory, practically in thunderclan's camp... what a way to wake up from a nightmare.

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[cindermist]

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[atrb=background,http://i46.tinypic.com/1zeilpe.jpg] [style=width: 340px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 9px; color: #7c6269; text-align: justify; padding-bottom:20px; text-transform: lowercase;] How had she actually forgotten the juniper berries? Seriously. Blackfox would have had a meltdown if he’d had to deal with her forgetting important things like that. In fact, he had, many times. The old medicine cat had never had the best patience around, but even when he lost his cool, it was always more about the lack of herbs than her own lapse of memory. It had never stopped her from getting hurt by it and cursing for moons about it, but it was a nice thought on his behalf. But this, this was her own doing, and she only had herself to punish. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten to pick them either! They were there, beside the plant on a leaf ready to go. Mousebrain! The medicine cat let her drop against the den wall with a thud. She didn’t move for a moment, her back to the entrance, green gaze glaring at the stone wall her head was against, ears flat. That meant she needed to move again, moving was her least favourite thing to do. With a long sigh, the she-cat pulled herself away from the wall, stalking toward the entrance. She didn’t hesitant about swiping a bit of moss up into the air as she went though. Stupid memory refusing to let her only do one trip. And she needed those berries too. Making her way into the clearing, she scanned the area, checking if it was clear. She could see her father’s bulky form near the warriors den, but he seemed to be alone and preoccupied cleaning his pads. The tom could never do more than one thing at a time, she swore that. But her mother and sister appeared to be gone, which was a good thing. She shouldn’t have to hide from them, her mind reminded her bitterly. But she did, if she wanted to get away without a few snide comments or disappointed looks. Okay! So she was an awful warrior, maybe one of the worst there could be. Which was why she became a medicine cat, to be useful, to help the clan as much as possible. But no, that was bad, that was the easy way out. The marking of a coward. Well, maybe she was just a coward then. A useless, forgetful, mousebrained coward. Sure, that seemed to describe her about right. Quickly, the she-cat moved across the camp, sparing a glance between the warriors and apprentices dens, her nose seeking scents absently. However, there were too many to really tell where Hawkpaw, Thunderstorm and Tigerfang were. When she’d stared frequently seeking out all three scents, she wasn’t sure. Thunderstorm’s she’d been doing since she was six moons old and planted as his apprentice, even if most days she really hadn’t wanted to. Tigerfang’s must have followed, seeing as the two toms were not apart often. Well, Hawkpaw, his was usually to check wounds and how they were healing. She paused by the fresh kill pile, glancing over the pieces there for a moment. Maybe she should eat before going out again, after all it was a long walk back to the twoleg nest. She nudged a mouse with a paw, wrinkling her nose slightly. No. Bad Cindermist. Go get your herbs first. Oh how tempted she was to ignore the responsible voice in her head. With a heavy sigh, she forced herself forward though, slowly making her way to the path up to the top of the camp. A sharp yowl from across the camp, made the medicine cat pause though, gaze flicking over to where two young warriors were tussling, upsetting an elder. Great, now she’d have to calm the old cat down later. Sighing, the she-cat looked up at the sky, for a moment, before continuing up the path. She wasn’t at the top, but a soft voice up above made her pause again, ears pricking up and attention ahead. She also debating getting someone to investigate. Soft voices did not happen in ThunderClan, not by its own members. Slowly, she moved forward, her ears just catching words. “h-help... s-s-someone, pl-please...” It was enough to make her inner medicine cat flare up, and quickly, she moved forward, bounding up the path, her gaze settling on the damaged striped she-cat there. Cindermist could do nothing but stop dead upon seeing the cat, eyes wide, her heart feeling like it came to a sudden, screaming halt. She knew that pelt, it was distant, so many moons ago. But she knew it, from her kit days, from her early apprenticeship. The cat who often nudged Thunderstorm into being a bit more lenient on her when she screwed up, the cat they all called a mother, the three brothers. “Silverstep?” She meowed hesitantly, finally kicking herself out of her stupor as the smell of infection sweeled up her nose. An alarmed expression settled over the medicine cat’s face as she bounced to the she-cat’s side, pressing her nose to the warrior’s head, body, neck, pulling back after a moment to look at the she-cat. “You’re alive! And here, and… I’m talking and not doing anything to help, sorry!” Leaning down, she tried her best to nudge the she-cat’s side in an attempt to help her. Though there was only so much the lithe she-cat could accomplish. There was no point calling down to the clearing from there, it would just alarm people. Hopefully, someone would come out and notice them sooner, rather than later, as the medicine cat wasn’t sure if she could support Silverstep all the way down on her own. [/style] [style=style=width: 340px; font-family: small fonts; font-size: 7px; color: #7c6269; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase]words: 933 . tagged: silverstep, anyone . notes: n/a . [/style] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,400,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true]

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[goldenwing]

[STYLE=padding:5px; width:350px; height:210px font-family:georgia; font-size:10px; text-align:justify; text-transform: lowercase;]It was another one of those long days where she had nothing to do. Goldenwing sighed, her whiskers twitching as she gazed out of the entrance to the elder’s den towards the center of the camp. Her paws were crossed over the other, as had been her habit since she was a tiny kit. The she-cat didn’t know why she had started doing it, really. It was one of those mysteries that came to you in your old age, she supposed, when you wondered where your life had gone.

The golden elder snorted derisively, rolling her eyes at herself. She knew she’d had a full life, with fulfilling her duties as a warrior and as a mother to the best of her ability – she still remembered the day her darling kits were born, how proud and happy she was. Goldenwing almost missed the days where she took care of her little Lilykit, Cherrykit, and Frostkit at times, where her whole world consisted of her kittens and her mate. But they were adults now, even if she had a tendency to mother them as she used to. That was her duty as a mother, after all. Frostwhisker had grown up to be a handsome tom, and her two daughters were already considering taking mates. She was so very proud of their accomplishments.

It was a moment like this where Goldenwing supposed she ought to feel old, considering that she had fought so many battles for ThunderClan, mentored several cats, and bore a litter. But she felt as young as ever, even at sixty-four moons. Cats were only as old as their soul was, and there were times where she believed she was still a young warrior, proudly carrying prey for her clan. Those days were long gone for her, but that didn’t stop her from wishing she could join every patrol that went out of the camp.

Frowning softly, Goldenwing huffed and pushed herself upright despite the slight stiffness in her body. Her bones may be old, but she could still move as gracefully as she ever could. She padded out of the elder’s den and settled herself in a patch of sunlight near the edge of the camp, her pale green eyes watching every single movement. She watched as tiny kits tumbled over themselves in their play, as several apprentices stretched out their legs in preparation for training that day, as warriors formed groups to hunt, and as her fellow elders wandered out after her to enjoy the lingering sunshine. Goldenwing purred gently in her throat, though that sound cut off when she noticed two young warriors wrestling each other right near where Heatherfoot was trying to rest, hearing the she-cat yowl in distress.

She sighed once more, getting to her paws in order to walk right over there and swat at the two warriors, scolding them like kits for disturbing their elders. Goldenwing was protective of her clanmates, and all of them knew it. This especially included the cats she called her family, as well as the family of one of her closest apprentices. Silverstep. Oh, how she missed her. The golden she-cat murmured comfort to Heatherfoot, trying to ignore the sharp pang of sorrow in her chest as she calmed her. Even after all of these moons, Goldenwing couldn’t help but think of the silver she-cat; especially when she saw her sons in the camp, and looking so similar to their father that there were times where it pained her to look at them, when she remembered how much they had lost.

She had taken it upon herself to mother Tigerfang, Thunderstorm, and little Hawkpaw in Silverstep’s place, much to their displeasure perhaps. But Goldenwing didn’t care. She wanted to look after them until Silverstep returned safely to their clan. She refused to even consider that the female was dead. StarClan wouldn’t allow that to happen. There was no way that a cat with Silverstep’s spirit could be lost so easily.

Goldenwing was lost in her thoughts for a moment, before her attention was caught with a very weak cry. Instantly her senses were on alert, as she stood and started to walk closer towards Cindermist – and it was then that she saw the small she-cat beside her. Goldenwing practically froze in place, recognizing that shade of silver immediately. She…she was alive?

“…Silverstep?” she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Is…is that you?”[/style]

[wild]

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[style=width:300px; height:100px; font-family:coming soon; font-size:48px; text-align:center; letter-spacing:5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin-top:70px;]wildstar

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[style=font-family:coming soon; font-size:13px; text-align:center; text-transform:lowercase; margin-top:-20px; margin-left:123px;]i beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies

The tortoiseshell she-cat dug up the last of the three mice she had caught today, picking it up by its tail so that it dangled from her teeth like the other two did. There was nothing like hunting to keep down her stress level on a daily basis, knowing that she was helping the Clan while keeping her mind off of the little things that irked her every so often. But as she headed back to camp another problem soon presented itself to her; the scent of an intruder. She dropped her mice and wrinkled her nose, uttering a hiss as soon as she caught wind of the wretched smell of sickness, blood, and death. Whoever this intruder was, its scent immediately raised a red flag, and leaving the now insignificant fresh-kill, she darted down the scent trail.

As she ran, she realized that the trail was leading straight to ThunderClan camp, as if this possibly dangerous rogue had taken the time to figure out where her Clanmates resided and decided the attack the heart of their Clan. Well, this rogue had another thing coming for it, because she trust that her Clan was well-capable of fighting off a lowly individual. The scent got stronger and stronger, signifying that she was approaching the threat, although to her alarm, it had already arrived within the camp's barriers, right down the front entrance. What was this cat planning, not even thinking about ambushing her warriors but rather marching right in the front door? Whatever it was, she had to be wary, and she had to warn her Clan. So as soon as she reached the ravine, she yowled out, "Everyone prepare yourselves, we have a stranger within the perimeter! Do not-" But she barely had anytime to finished when she stopped short, spotting one of her elders, her medicine cat, and a filthy stranger, covered in dirt and weakened from what seemed to be malnourishment and combat, lying on the floor. The scent of infection and sickness was overwhelming; this was the intruder.

She stood there, baffled for a second. This was the threat that intruded in on their territory? A weakling, looking like she could barely be able to stand, much less walk? "Goldenwing, Cindermist, step back." She commanded as she approached the stranger, fully on-guard in case of a surprise attack. Looking down at the stranger, who was covered in filth and stained with blood with wounds and gashes covering her body and who smelled of hatred and despair, she hissed, "Who are you, stranger, and what business do you have in ThunderClan territory?" It could be a ruse, a trap, this she-cat could be luring them in to sympathize her, and then she would stab them in the back. And weakened or not, no stranger would get away with intruding in on her boundaries without a good reason for it. Especially not one who smelled like a threat.

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this is the dawning of the rest of our lives