Mourn With the Moon and the Stars Up Above [Private]

[Deleted]

REVENGE IS NEVER A

STRAIGHT LINE. IT IS A FOREST

AND IT IS EASY TO LOSE YOUR WAY

    It came to him that night as it often did.

    As he padded into a small clearing, it emerged from the dark of the wood. The forest floor was wreathed in fog, and the trees were as green as springtime. There was no snow—no sign of leafbare—only the vixen with its coat of cinnamon and ash.

    Redwater met her flinty gaze with his own. Blood dribbled from the she-foxes jaws, mixing with the spittle dripping from its lips, and there was a smell like carrion clinging to its fur that only grew strong the closer it got; trying not to choke on its stench, Redwater withdrew a few paces but never took his eyes off of it.

    And a sad warrior I’d be if I did, he thought, the corners of his mouth pulled back into an amused grimace.

    He often dreamt of the fox in this place where the stars did not shine, and each time the dream ended the same way. He need only wait for it to…


    A blur of movement heralded its attack. Like an arrow shot from a bowstring, it bore down on him with slavering jaws, its teeth snapping inches from his face as they twisted and thrashed in the snow.


    Snarling, Redwater drew back his paw and aimed a blow at its face. When the blow hit, he wriggled desperately, trying to claw his way free. But the fox had him pinned. Its weight crushed him as he writhed, and when he turned to meet it with tooth and fang, it lurched forwards like a viper to wrap its jaws around his face, its teeth burying themselves into his flesh.


    A screech escaped him as the teeth punctured his eye, but no matter how much he struggled she did not release him until he’d driven his hind feet into her belly.


    Winded and surprised, the vixen backed off, but no sooner had she done so than a new scent drifted towards him.


    He spun around, eyes searching. Maybe this time I can—


    But no. The outcome was the same.

    When he turned, he saw the dog fox standing with its shoulders squared. It was holding something in its jaws, something limp and lifeless.

    Flowerpaw! He recognized the she-cat’s calico fur, and his heart twisted painfully.

    “No!” His voice trembling with grief, he lunged forwards. But the dog fox was quicker.

    It met him mid-spring and no sooner had its snarl punctuated the silence than he felt a sharp pain in his jaw and he was awake in the medicine den.

    Blinking blearily, he winced as he was met with pale, early morning light. Outside a fitful breeze was blowing, howling over the camp and throwing white flakes into the air. It was dawn, and the camp had yet to stir.

    Huffing, he turned his gaze away from the clearing and into the den, being careful to mind the cobwebs that wrapped his head.

    But inside was no better. The den was nearly empty save for the hulking, shaggy outline of Wolfjaw. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the oversized warrior. Much like himself, Wolfjaw had been fatally wounded in the fox hunt; split down the belly by fox jaws, the now healing wound stunk of Ashcloud’s poultices. It was an unpleasant smell, like rosemary on the pelt of a dead cat, and while Redwater would have liked nothing more than to have taken a nest a bit farther away, Ashcloud has insisted they stayed close to one another.

    “To keep each other company,” the wise old sage had said.

    Yeah right. Redwater rolled his eyes as he remembered the medicine cats words.

    Woljaw was poor company, as fidgety as he was, and even when he wasn’t twitching about, there was something about his presence that left Redwater feeling uncomfortable. Just looking at him made it hard to concentrate and considering the fact that all he had to distract himself were his own thoughts, it was becoming quite the miserable experience.

    But it’ll be over soon, he assured himself. Ashcloud says we’re both healing better than expected.

    Soothed by the thought, he relaxed a bit—only to be roused again by the gurgling of his stomach. Wincing, he attempted to squash the sound, but it persisted stubbornly.

    “Alright, alright…” Muttering, he got to his paws and made his way over to the fresh-kill pile—only to have his hopes crushed by the mere sight of it.

    There wasn’t even enough to feed a kit, let alone a full-grown warrior.

    Frowning, he sifted through his options. There was an old blackbird, but it was more feathered and flesh, and aside from that, the only thing that wasn’t frozen solid was a pair of scrawny mice.

    Realizing he had no right to be picky, he took the mice by their tails and lumbered back to the medicine den. Shoving aside the lichen drapes he shrugged his way inside and sat down in his nest to eat. But no sooner had his teeth brushed the skin of the first mouse than Wolfjaw’s fidgeting and whimpering forced him to stop.

    He frowned, turned back to the mouse, and made to take a bite out of it again, only to, again, give pause as Wolfjaw rolled and groaned pitifully.

    I wish he wouldn’t make so much noise. It’s bad enough I’m stuck with him all day.

    And yet, rather than ignore him, Redwater found himself moving towards him, and before he could even realize what he was doing, his paw was shaking Wolfjaw awake.

    “Wake up,” he lowered his head so his breath was warm on Wolfjaw’s face. “I, er—I brought you something to eat.” As the words left him, he glanced over his shoulder at the two mice—the two mice that he had initially fetched for himself. It seemed like a shame to give them up, but as Wolfjaw turned and blinked his sleep-weary eyes at him, his hunger was the last thing on his mind.

Tags: trevni | Word Count: 996
Notes: 12AM Muse

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[trevni]

wolfjaw

@egotistic,

i could wreck it if i had to, but i'm a wreck, so what would that do?

His dreams were abstract, intangible things that day – a far cry from the usual, hyper-realistic nightmares, but still disconcerting enough to give him troubled sleep.

Wolfjaw had never been a quiet sleeper – even in his apprentice days, he’d been infamous for tossing, turning, and talking in his sleep – but since the fox hunt, he’d discovered that there was an entirely different level of restless sleep. It was likely a blessing for every warrior (except, of course, for Redwater) that he was confined to the medicine den while he healed, rather than sleeping nest to them.

These days, he awoke to the mildest disturbance, and no sooner had Redwater approached him, softly breathing out words that felt warm upon his fur, Wolfjaw’s pale golden eyes fluttered upon, rounding as they met the cobwebbed, one-eyed visage of Redwater.

It was a face he saw in his nightmares – nightmares where he tried and failed to intercept the fox before it got to a cat he almost considered a friend – and seeing it in the waking world left his stomach churning anxiously. The fur along his spine rippled, and he stared for a couple of seconds too long before averting his gaze and drawing in a breath.

I wish we’d done better. If I had been quicker, maybe we could have avoided all this injury. Guiltily, the tom shuffled massive paws, gaze hesitantly returning to Redwater as the tom continued to speak. He’s even worse off than I am, came the unbidden thought. He’s such a good warrior, too, it’s a shame. If any cat should have left that battle half-blinded, it was me. He wasn’t much use even with two functional eyes. The idea that the more capable of the two was the one who had lost the most seemed decidedly unfair to Wolfjaw.

”I—for me?” he mumbled softly, tone still sleepy as he tried to fully focus his thoughts and attention upon Redwater. He followed his gaze towards the scrawny mice, and felt a flash of guilt as his stomach audibly grumbled at the sight and scent. They weren’t the most appetizing prey he’d seen, but he hardly cared. The mere thought almost made him drool as he rose into a sitting position – and stifled a pained gasp as pain lanced through his stomach.

Gritting his teeth, he tensed himself against the waves of pain that had become all too familiar in the past days, unwilling to show weakness in front of the other warrior. The large, dangerous wound that had almost killed him had begun to heal, but it was so deep and long that full healing would take quite a while. Moving in most ways left him seeing stars and trying not to whimper, and he settled for an awkward, half-sitting posture that left the healing wound a little too on display for his liking. Grimacing, he bit his tongue until the discomfort mostly ebbed, hardly even daring to breathe too deeply as his gaze found Redwater again.

”… Thank you,” he murmured, too cautious to even speak too loudly. He realized with a pang that he hadn’t really conversed much with Redwater since the incident. Most times, either he or Redwater had been half-asleep, groggy from poppy seeds and whatever concoction Ashcloud provided to them. If there had been conversations, Wolfjaw realized that he probably didn’t remember them. Not that he probably wants to talk to me, anyways – not more than he has to. If he wasn’t stuck in this den he probably wouldn’t even bother with small talk.

It was a common thought Wolfjaw had, but on that particular day, he couldn’t ignore the sadness that came with the idea. He enjoyed the other tom’s company for some reason, and the idea that Redwater likely thought him more a burden than anything else was tougher to swallow than every bitter herb Ashcloud had shoved his way.

”… Have you eaten yet?” he asked after a long pause, realizing once more that he’d spent too long thinking. No wonder he thinks I’m so weird. I must look daft, staring off into space so much. Grimacing, he glanced away once more – anything was better than accidentally staring at the other tom for too long. ”I-I mean, I really appreciate it… But if you’re hungrier, you can keep them. It’ll help you get better faster, right?”

sorry for the wait, r ip

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[Deleted]

REVENGE IS NEVER A

STRAIGHT LINE. IT IS A FOREST

AND IT IS EASY TO LOSE YOUR WAY

    Though Redwater had lost one of his eyes in the battle against the foxes, he had not lost his ability to see.

    Sitting there, studying Wolfjaw as the shaggy-furred tom roused from his slumbers, he did not fail to see the way Wolfjaw’s eyes flitted only briefly over his face—the way they hesitantly trailed over the side of his head that was swathed in bandages—before shited elsewhere. As usual, he was reluctant to meet Redwater’s gaze, though whether or not it was because of his scars or his general nervousness, Redwater did not know. Still, that did not stop him from jumping to his own conclusions.

    He’s probably scared of me—just like everyone else, Redwater thought, his claws flexing into the ground before slipping back into their sheaths.

    He wasn’t sure why the thought of Wolfjaw thinking lesser of him affected him as much as it did, but there was no denying the sharp twist he felt in his gut at the thought of Wolfjaw never looking him in the eye ever again. Even if they hardly knew each other, Redwater had not forgotten the time they’d spent at the RavenClan border; the conversation they’d had that for once in his moons in WillowClan had left him feeling as if he wasn’t alone. But that had been a moon ago—there was no telling if that encounter meant as much to Wolfjaw as it did to him, and with everything considered from the anxious looks he gave him to the mutual disinterest in talking to one another he didn’t doubt that that was the case.

    Stop overthinking it. You’re worse than Wolfjaw—lost in your thoughts like you’ve got your head in the clouds! Get a hold of yourself. He gritted his teeth and with a lash of his tail the oppressive thoughts that dogged his dissipated like mist to the breeze—just in time for him to hear Wolfjaw speaking.

    “I—for me?” The tabby tom’s voice was groggy with sleep as his eyes wandered towards the two scrawny mice Redwater had set before him.

    “Yes—for you,” Redwater responded tersely, giving the mice each and appraising prod with his paw. Though they were stiff with cold and death, the smell of meat was undeniably pleasant, even if it did smell—admittedly—kind of rotten. But in leafbare such prey was commonplace, and it was eaten as readily as fresh-kill. He didn’t see a reason why Wolfjaw would turn them down.

    And the tom didn’t. Instead, he pushed himself to his paws—wincing with the pain of the arching scar that zigzagged down his belly—and settled into a slumped position. Redwater had seen him do this several time; he supposed it was the only way to sit now his stomach was nearly split in two.

    “…Thank you,” came the murmured words of gratitude, but before Wolfjaw had so much as seized one of the mice between his teeth he was prattling on again.

    “…Have you eaten yet? I-I mean, I really appreciate it… But if you’re hungrier, you can keep them. It’ll help you get better faster, right?” Again his eyes darted towards Redwater’s face, but they didn’t stay there for very long. Instead, they moved to another corner of the den, gazing at the wall instead.

    He felt his fur beginning to bristle.

    “Look, why don’t you just—” he stopped himself midsentence, forcing the growl to die in his throat. “Just… eat, would you? I’m not hungry, and besides, you look like you’re exhausted after your dream.” The words were about as fake and artificial as the reassuring smile he gave him, but he didn’t correct himself—only turned the bandaged side of his face towards Wolfjaw so he wouldn’t have to deal with the inevitable concern that would light the tom’s gaze.

    It’s bad enough we’re stuck here together. Why does he always have to be so concerned about everyone but himself? Redwater gritted his teeth in annoyance and didn’t look back until he heard the tom stirring towards the mice.

    His green gaze was rapt as he watched, and after a silence that persisted for what felt like an eternity, he spoke up again, the words spilling unbidden from his lips. “Is it… is it really that bad?” he asked, his voice low and hesitant. “My face, I mean—does it frighten you like it does everyone else?” He wanted to know; he didn’t understand why he did, but when he looked at Wolfjaw, he knew it had been a question he’d desperately wanted to ask ever since they’d wrapped up the side of his face.

    Since then, everyone glanced at him as if he were a monster. It was hardly the heroic treatment he would’ve expected after fending off two foxes, but the grim reality had been one that struck him harder than any blow either of the foxes could’ve dealt. But what hurt worst of all was knowing that even Wolfjaw was reluctant to meet his gaze—Wolfjaw who he’d always assumed did not share the sentiments of WillowClan.

    Which was why he needed to know; if even Wolfjaw were too afraid to look at his face, then he’d met a crueler fate than he’d first presumed.

Tags: trevni  | Word Count: 863
Notes: I don't know why this took so long, but it did pff.

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[trevni]

wolfjaw

@egotistic

i could wreck it if i had to, but i'm a wreck, so what would that do?

There was a certain tension in the air that left Wolfjaw even more on edge than usual. It was as if the air within the medicine den had suddenly thickened to the point of being unbreathable. He couldn’t put a name or reason to it, but it kept his gaze trained on anything but Redwater. He eyed the mice dubiously, feeling a little nauseated by the half-rotten smell they gave off. Anything was better than nothing, but it was still difficult for him to convince his stomach of that.

At his reluctance, Redwater began to bristle, and Wolfjaw’s gaze shifted back to him, fur spiking in alarm as he instinctively flinched from the response he was surely going to get. He probably thinks I’m ungrateful – but if he’s hungry, he deserves them more than me. But the other tom cut himself off, clamping his jaws shut and forcing himself to calm before continuing in a fake, artificial tone that was somehow worse than the previous irritation.

Wolfjaw studied him with some concern, but his gaze met only bandages and scarring. This time, it was Redwater that was avoiding him. He sat there for a long couple of moments, stomach churning as he watched the silent, still form of the other tom. He must hate this – being stuck here with me. Having to deal with me as the only source of conversation and company, aside from Ashcloud. And who could blame him? He surely has better friends in Willowclan than me. Wilting visibly at the thought, the tom dragged himself towards the mice, gently taking one in his jaws and beginning to eat.

It tasted about as stale and foul as it looked, but the hunger in his stomach that Wolfjaw hadn’t even acknowledged until now overrode whatever hesitance he might have had. Any food was better than no food, and, though he felt guilty, he found himself scarfing down both mice. At least while he was eating he could try to ignore another uncomfortable silence, and the feeling of Redwater’s gaze upon him.

When he was finished, Redwater finally broke the silence, though the question he asked somehow made Wolfjaw wish for the awkward quiet instead. Swallowing, he was silent for a long moment, golden gaze shifting back to Redwater once more. He found himself at a loss for word, taking precious seconds to respond – seconds that likely felt like an eternity to the other tom.

”I—“ he cut off, unsure what to say. He wasn’t even sure what the truth was, or whether it would help or hurt in this particular case. Shuddering faintly, the dark tabby took a breath, shifting his gaze to stare into Redwater’s one good eye. Tell him it doesn’t matter. He’s still the same, no matter what he may look like.

”… A little bit,” he found himself admitting quietly, uncomfortably, though he forced himself to watch Redwater’s reaction. ”Not—it’s just taking some getting used to,” he murmured, ears ticking back uncertainly. ”Everything that’s happened just… feels like a bad dream. I keep hoping we’ll wake up and none of this will have ever had to happen.” He knew the words were wrong coming out of his mouth – if he thought of it as a bad dream, it was surely some terrible nightmare to Redwater. The red-and-white tom had lost more than Wolfjaw had, and reminding him of that couldn’t be good.

”… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—I just think it’s terrible. You didn’t deserve anything like this,” he concluded, glancing down at the ground. ”You deserve a lot better than you’ve got.”

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[Deleted]

REVENGE IS NEVER A

STRAIGHT LINE. IT IS A FOREST

AND IT IS EASY TO LOSE YOUR WAY

    If the silence didn’t drive him mad, Redwater was certain that the waiting would.

    Sitting there as patiently as he could, he watched Wolfjaw with his steady green gaze, his breathing slow and concentrated, his tail wrapped neatly over his paws. Not once did he look away, and when at last Wolfjaw mustered up the courage to speak, his ears swiveled forwards intently to listen.

    Never before had he wanted so desperately to be consoled by anyone. He wanted to hear that there was nothing wrong with him, that he was only imagining it and he was still the same as he had been, no matter what anyone said or how they looked at him.

    But those words never came. Instead, Wolfjaw started with a nervous “I—” before faltering and shifting uncomfortably in the half-light. Redwater could see his eyes flashing as they turned to face him, and for a moment he felt hopeful—then Wolfjaw continued, and he felt a sinking feeling in his chest.

    “…a little bit,” he admitted, his ears swiveling back, betraying his uncertainty. “Not—it’s just taking some getting used to.” Redwater narrowed his eyes, feeling his hackles rise without his conscious volition. I knew it, a small voice said at the back of his head. All along, I knew… “Everything that happened just… feels like a bad dream. I keep hoping we’ll wake up and none of this will have ever had to happen.”

    Is that it? A mixture of emotions fluttered in and out of being as he stood, stock-still, staring back at Wolfjaw. His ears had flattened against his skull, and his claws had sunk themselves into the earth. A growl was threatening to sound in his throat, but he subdued it with a lash of his tail. No. I won’t yell. You knew what you were asking for and you got it. Wolfjaw is only being honest.

    So then why did he feel so angry?

    He faltered, then shook his head.

    “You don’t think I want the same thing? Every day I wake up and wish that the patrol had never happened. I wish that I hadn’t lost my eye or broken my jaw. I wish that you hadn’t been injured the way you were. And I wish that Flowerpaw hadn’t—” And then he made a wretched noise in his throat and looked away, his face twisting miserably before he regained his composure and straightened to face Wolfjaw again.

    “…there are a lot of things I wish hadn’t happened, but they did. Like now. I wished you could see past all of this—” he motioned to the bandages wrapping his head “—but I guess we don’t always get what we wish for, now do we.”

    With that he shoved himself to his paws, his ears twitching slightly as Wolfjaw pressed on.

    “…I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—I just think it’s terrible. You didn’t deserve anything like this,” Wolfjaw finished, averting his gaze at last. “You deserve a lot better than you’ve got.”

    Yeah, I guess I do. Redwater considered Wolfjaw briefly, then said, “Don’t be sorry. If there’s anyone here to blame, it’s me for assuming you were any different than the rest of them.” He turned away and faced the entrance to the medicine den, making his way towards it before stopping to look back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Wolfjaw…” he searched the tom’s gaze, then looked back outside. “If Ashcloud asks, tell him I went for a walk and not to follow me. The same goes for you. I need time to think—alone.”

    And with that, Redwater shoved the lichen drapes roughly aside, admitted a pale splash of light into the den, and was gone. He didn’t look back, he didn’t even hesitate, he only quickened his pace as he slid out into the forest, his mind a jumbled mess of self-loathing and bitterness.

Tags: trevni | Word Count: 643
Notes: Redwater stop being unfair, you doofus

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

[trevni]

wolfjaw

@egotistic,

i could wreck it if i had to, but i'm a wreck, so what would that do?

He had never felt quite so wretched – a part of him wished nothing more than to clamp his jaws shut. Admitting his own discomfort to Redwater seemed like a mistake the moment the words left Wolfjaw’s mouth – he couldn’t help but notice how attentively Redwater took in his response, as though it was something he’d been waiting to hear the answer to for far too long. But it was a response that would surely be too bitter for the tom to swallow. Wolfjaw’s words left a foul taste in his own mouth, but seeing the reaction it drew out of Redwater somehow made it all worse.

He flinched back reactively as Redwater’s fur began to fluff up, but he’d begun to speak already – it was too late to take back what he had said. Swallowing thickly, the tom was almost prepared for Redwater to lash out – surely it was something he deserved to do, after hearing such things. And surely Wolfjaw would have deserved it. But Redwater only stayed silent, staring Wolfjaw down so intently that Wolfjaw was sure the tom’s single eye would bore right through him. Wolfjaw tried to glance away, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to – not when he saw the multitude of emotions clouding Redwater’s face.

Of course Redwater regretted that day just as much as Wolfjaw, if not more. Wolfjaw felt foolish for even bringing it up – ears flattening, he finally glanced away as Redwater responded, feeling a rush of panic and sadness at the choked noise that sounded in the other tom’s throat. In that moment, Wolfjaw almost wished they were facing the fox again, instead of sharing memories that could never change, and words that could never be taken back.

”Redwater, I—“ he began softly, but he was promptly cut off as Redwater faced him again. His jaws clamped shut as the orange-and-white tom continued, flinching back and guiltily lowering his gaze. Clearly, he’d said the entirely wrong thing, even if it was honest. I didn’t mean it like that. He’s still the same cat, I just… It’s hard to look at him and know that he’ll never fully recover. I might be scarred up, but he’s lost far more than I have. Grimacing, he braced himself against Redwater’s words, almost able to taste the bitterness the other tom spoke them with.

His attempts to appease Redwater, if anything, only worsened the situation. There was a coldness in the other tom’s expression as he studied Wolfjaw for a long moment – the implication that Wolfjaw was just as petty and wretched as the rest of their Clanmates somehow hurt worse than anything else that had been said that day. And then, just like that, Redwater was making his way towards the exit of the den, and Wolfjaw pushed himself to his paws to follow despite the agonized protest his stomach offered.

But perhaps he was predictable, because Redwater turned to stare at him one final time, freezing Wolfjaw in his haphazard tracks. He opened his jaws to protest, but he could do nothing but miserably duck his head. Clearly, Redwater did not want to listen to anything else his stupid mouth had to say.

Despite the other tom’s orders, he started after him as he left with slow, staggering steps – but the sharp aches and throbs as he jostled his sensitive, not-yet-healed body caused him to freeze, gasping in pain and sitting back down. Between his broken, damaged body and the misery that suddenly made his paws feel heavier than stone, he could not bring himself to pursue his friend.

Friend. If he considered you a friend before, he certainly doesn’t now, he realized dully, staring past the den’s entrance without really seeing it. Any friendliness the other had held with him after their border patrol – a time that seemed like eons ago, with far everything had fallen – had evaporated as quickly as the morning dew. With a quiet, miserable shudder, Wolfjaw sank back into a laying position, ignoring the ache as he curled himself up as tightly as he could manage, bushy tail shifting to cover the sadness that contorted his face.

He didn’t even have the energy to will himself back into his nest, a couple of tail-lengths away. The cool floor of the den seeped what little warmth he’d retained, and he could do little more than shiver and try to ignore the feelings that had shut him down as swiftly as those few words somehow had.

… I’m so stupid. Why can’t I ever say something right?

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