BRATJA — berryheart

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Trouble is brewing like a thick, dark storm. All of ThunderClan can feel themselves mired in the crosswinds. Cicadastar had made himself clear -- he would not be giving into ThunderClan. Raccoonstripe half-admires the RiverClan leader's certainty. Perhaps, in the mousebrain's place, he'd have told another Clan who wanted a piece of his territory something similar.

It'd been an invitation, really, for ThunderClan to claim what should have always belonged to them. A battle should not be troubling him -- especially when he agrees with Howlingstar and her council. The rocks should be theirs. Their Clan needs the prey, whereas RiverClan does not, cannot even use them currently.

But his mind is bending. Every night, he is shaken awake, staring at the blood pooling between his claws, spitting salt and iron that shows clear on the earth. The guilt has become unbearable, and he cannot explain it to anyone -- he is not the only warrior who had killed in battle. It is expected of a warrior, isn't it? To rid one's Clan of enemies who would do it harm?

So why does he feel this way? Why does he feel as though the stars mock him, that were he to die over the Sunningrocks, he would not be greeted by a faceless StarClan warrior but by the mother and child he'd killed, their necks bent and red, their eyes glazed and half-lidded, laughing at him. Jeering at him.

He knows of only one cat who knows the perimeters of StarClan's mercy. Of their forgiveness. He knows only one cat who could take this weight from his shoulders -- or who could seal his fate. Raccoonstripe thinks he could accept this horrid ending, if he must. But he should know.

The tabby pushes his way into the medicine cat's den. It is dark, the sunset bleeding into shadow. Their camp has slowed, preparing for slumber. He ensures Berryheart is alone before he interrupts him. "Have a minute for your favorite brother?" The tone is disjointed, though, and his brother is astute enough to tell there is something off. Raccoonstripe's voice is steady, but his eyes are haunted.

"I'm sure you're busy, or tired, but I... need to ask you a question first." He does not wait for Berryheart's invitation to sit -- he simply does, leveling his tortoiseshell littermate with a desperate dark stare.

He opens his mouth, but initially, nothing spills. He thinks for one awful, horrific moment, that the blood in his dreams will tumble from his jaws instead of words. "I need to know," he rasps, "who is allowed into StarClan."

// @BERRYHEART​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

Though many believed, judging by the sight of the recently-painted sky, that Berryheart had regular contact with StarClan- that they sent whispers to him constantly- they were wrong, largely. He was under no incessant tutelage by them, was not given the answers to life's many questions simply by being chosen by their spangled paws. His dreams had yet to be interrupted by signs- however, he could feel their presence at the Moonstone. Could feel the silver fire of their eyes whenever he was there.

Attention snagged, Berryheart's ear twitched- and he greeted Stripes with a nod as he entered, granting an invitation he was sure would have been taken anyway. Turning to face his bark-pelted littermate, he let his face settle into a stony but pleasant expression- what would seem to an untrained eye as neutrality, but would be known to his kin as a welcoming gladness. Still, there was... something off. Stripes was normally confident and direct- but he repeated that phrase, I need, and the desperation in his gaze despite the levelness of his tone sank the tortoiseshell's expression into something more thoughtful. I need to know who is allowed into StarClan.

Berryheart thought not about the torturous length of his thoughtful silence- all he was focused on was giving his brother a suitable answer. One that was not a lie, but... was bolstered with the wisdom he had gained upon this star-written path. "I believe," he began, speaking slowly. His certainty was required in his speech- and he had very little certainty as of late, therefore he could only give his opinion. "Cats who have never done anything with cruel intention- they acted for duty, for kindness, or for love in their life." Boss Man, Father- they were up there, and fit that description well (or at least, he had heard, in Father's case). But his Stars-scorned predecessor, who had acted for vengeance... he did not believe she would be ascending to those hunting grounds. Off of that little evidence, his theory was crafted.

Interest with a glint of worry sparked in Berryheart's dull eyes. "Why?"​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Berryheart's face, despite everything, is one of pleasant stoicism. His nonverbal welcome is met with only a flick of an ear, and the question he poses to his brother is an immense one -- stars, he knows that. But he watches his brother almost fearfully as silence stretches between them. Every heartbeat Berryheart does not answer is one in which Raccoonstripe's mind does instead. "Not you."

His littermate begins slowly. "Cats who have done anything with cruel intentions- they acted for duty, for kindness, or for love in their life." Raccoonstripe lets the words sink in, but he shakes his head as though a flea is biting at his neck. Were my intentions cruel? I snapped her neck, but not until after she watched her child die.

His mouth waters, but he struggles to keep his composure. His brother looks at him strangely, asking him "Why?" Why indeed.

The tabby is mute for several moments. Once he is sure he can speak without spitting, he murmurs, "What is the thing you regret most in your life, Berryheart? What is the thing that causes you the most guilt?" Coal-dark eyes meet pale green. Raccoonstripe's volume drops. "Have you ever killed, Berry?"​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

The answer given was hardly an answer- it was another question, in fact. But... often Berryheart had found that answers with nuance tended to come in the form of a query. And there was something grave about this inquisition; something greatly serious. Stripes dwelled upon regret... brought up the concept of killing, and though Berryheart did not flinch from his steeliness his gaze did flicker with a ponderous blink. What had been neutrality was soon replaced with the furrow of a brow- the dusk of a frown darkened his flickered face. Again, he thought heavily regarding his answer.

"Not directly." Admittance given after a moment, he nodded at his own words. A low voice had dipped as hushed as his brother's- there was clearly a reason Stripes had spoken so quietly. "My incompetence has, though." The death of Sunset's kits still weighed heavy upon him, the thought draining his eyes of much of their life. Had he tirelessly worked- had he taken less time to learn, then perhaps their fate would have been avoidable. There was little use dwelling, but... he could not help feeling a flare of inadequacy, the unfamiliar sting of failure, whenever he thought about it.

His eyes remained stormy, though not with anger. "Have you?" Perhaps a direct question... but he imagined it was one Stripes would have seen coming. There was no disapproval in his gaze- no fury. In fact, his expression remained largely unreadable, accompanied by a voice ever-level and calm.​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

"Not directly." Berryheart's response gives Raccoonstripe pause from his own self-induced misery. The dark tabby meets his brother's eyes intently, searching their murky depths. "My incompetence has, though." He cannot imagine what Berryheart is referring to, not at first -- but then he remembers the tortoiseshell's anguish, well-disguised, after the death of his youngest patients.

The tabby shakes his head, resolute. "No medicine cat could do more than you have. StarClan chose you, and they must know what they're doing." He bows his head, pondering the enormity of his statement. Berryheart's paws carry power, in his eyes; not the brutalizing power Raccoonstripe's do, but a far more precious gift.

He can only take it.

Quickly and almost brusquely, Raccoonstripe brushes his cheek against Berryheart's. When he meets his brother's eyes again, he speaks, slow and deliberate, giving voice to his thoughts. "Your paws give life, Berryheart. They heal the destruction done by cats like me." His brother's question -- "Have you?" -- he answers it smoothly, "Your paws are made to heal. Mine are made to destroy. Yes, I have killed."

Pain, headache-like, sears through his skull. The memory of frosted star-kissed spirits rising from the bodies of those ripped and torn. Of seeing the child he'd pulled from their mother reuniting as phantoms as he trembled and bled over their corpses.

"I think about it every night," he mutters, and his gaze loses its strength and falls to the earth. "Except I'm not really thinking about it. Thinking is done on purpose. This just. Comes to me. Like a ghost. Their ghosts." The fur on his shoulders tingles at this confession. "I don't know if it's guilt, or if it's StarClan telling me... telling me I don't deserve their forgiveness." Painful admission. He closes his eyes against the self-dealt blow, waiting for Berryheart's judgment.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

A small sigh was all that fled from him in response to Stripes' assurance. The reality that he was star-chosen was often something that the flame-flecked tom used to assure himself he treaded the correct path. Still... he had never stopped pushing himself to know more. To know all... though enjoyment and indulgence was necessary for a happy life, he wondered whether he had squandered learning opportunities in the name of relaxation.

Never had he skipped so much sleep than he had the last few weeks, though. It was a grey area, spreading monochrome beneath his healing paws. Stripes' brush was met- returned. They were closer, now- voices low, yet nuance still entirely audible. Copper eyes bore into dull-olive, hardy as the metal itself. He confirmed the suspicion his question had earned.

Berryheart did not falter, but nor did he soften. The explanation flowed from Stripes' maw, an invisible force pushing his brothers' gaze to the ground. Their. So there was more than one body's blood upon his brother's paws.

Berryheart's expression was unreadable as he stood over this admittance for a long while. Those who murdered- who killed with no control... he had always thought them pitiable, pathetic. Creatures overcome by the thirst for revenge, or some twisted justification... his brother was not like that. Breathed admittance, and the pain of it, made itself clear within the wince written across his littermate's face. One who senselessly slaughtered would not feel that shame- would not talk so quietly. So why would he have done it, unless...?

"Was it in the battle?" Perhaps not the assurance Stripes needed in that moment, but it made the most sense. Berryheart had always been close with his family, especially his brothers. He was sure that such news would have already made its way over to him, if Stripes had taken a life outside of battle's bustle.

He paused for a moment, ponderous. StarClan telling him of their disapproval... something did not match. "StarClan doesn't contact those whom they condemn. They wouldn't reach out to you to taunt you," he assured, affirmative. He had reasonable grounds to believe it, anyway... they had condemned his predecessor, had told him themselves, and it had not been her that had received the sign of his appointment. "Their spirits rose to give us a second chance. I don't think... it is in their nature to haunt."​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Berryheart does not rush to comfort Raccoonstripe, to persuade him he's wrong. He appreciates that about his brother, in a strange way -- there's nothing disingenuine. Quiet contemplation meets the tabby warrior's confession. "Was it in the battle?" He nods stiffly in response. "A pine cat. A queen. I remember..." His voice is steady but begins to take on a distant quality. "...Her fur was tortoiseshell. Like yours. And she told me... she called me... a brute, that we would drive her out of her home." He smiles. It's hollow. "I told her yes. Because she did not belong here."

He blinks. Time wavers around him again, as it always does when he's wading through memories of the Great Battle. "I attacked her. She died slowly. But before she could go, her child... bit me. To save her. It was her child, I know, because of the way she screamed for him." His fur begins to bristle. "I killed him, and his mother watched him die. And then she died, too."

His haunted gaze rises to meet Berryheart's introspective green one. His voice trembles as he speaks. "I've never told anyone..." The details, they cloud his mouth like blood, and he backs away, revulsion clouding his features. He has to spit upon the floor of his brother's den. And as it always is, the spittle runs clear and watery. It's never as thick and red as it had been.

Berryheart's assertion that StarClan would not come to haunt their killers is little comfort. Raccoonstripe murmurs, "Then what am I being haunted by, if not their spirits?" His littermate's statement -- "Their spirits rose to give us a second chance."

Raccoonstripe seizes it. "I know this must be true." He feels limp from the exertion his confession has taken on him. The tabby has to lean on his brother for support, feeling as though the ground would open beneath him and swallow him otherwise. "But Berryheart... would you forgive me?" His eyes flash with meaning.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

A pine cat. They had followed a pine cat into this forest eventually... was that not the picture of forgiveness? The sprawling vine that StarClan had wished for? Though, some marsh cats had forgiven less easily. That had been their downfall. Her downfall.

With patience did he hear his brother's tale. It was not a light recollection... nothing to laugh over while sharing tongues or a meal. The heaviness of the subject matter made itself present in the weighed nature of Stripes' tone, and Berryheart's pitch black ears angled to attention, a clear cue he was listening with intent. Uneven eyes met copper as the story concluded, and a long sigh pulled from the medic's offset jaws. I've never told anyone. "I see." It was trust, in that action alone. Guilt, in that he had never told anyone else.

He flinched not at the spitting, waiting watchful. Stone sentinel, he kept himself sturdy to aid in keeping his littermate's balance. Silence stretched, then... agonising, as Berryheart pondered his answer. Anticipation hung from the end of his tabby brother's sentence- a question drenched in personal dilemma, seeking judgement that was perhaps unreadable on his crooked features.

A steadied tone began. "Yes," a simple answer- though for once, he would not leave it there. This matter required more delving, where a simple fact might not. "Because you don't revel in this, as a lesser cat would." Pitiable creatures, those who could not control themselves. Those who had to seek vengeance, or self-justification. Of course, he could not imagine having a kit- watching that kit die, no less. But many cats who had slaughtered in the Great Battle stood star-blessed now, alive or dead. "You're not proud, telling a story of heroism. You've told a story of war."

He paused, clearing his throat. Leaning more against his brother, a signal of support, he continued, voice scarcely more than a whisper. "It will remain difficult to carry this guilt, but you must, so it can teach you. Forgiveness is a chance to learn from your mistake." That was what StarClan had given them, when they had risen before them all. A new life- a reincarnation. A chance to approach things anew, with knowledge carried forth. ​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

The confession earns him a pondering silence. Berryheart does not flinch; he does not waver. Raccoonstripe waits for his brother's words like a judgment given by StarClan themselves. "I see." He deflates -- not out of disappointment, but out of exhaustion.

Berryheart tells him, "Yes." He would forgive Raccoonstripe. He shakes his head, but softly, a gentle denial. To his surprise, his brother is not finished. "Because you don't revel in this, as a lesser cat would." Raccoonstripe's gaze sharpens shrewdly. His brother must be talking about Cinderfrost, his savage predecessor, surely rotting away in some hellish afterlife by now. The tabby flicks his tail tip. "A story of war," he repeats softly. Is that all it is?

The medicine cat leans into his side. The gesture warms Raccoonstripe. His brother tells him it will never be easier to carry his guilt, and he agrees with a simple mrr. "If it were easy, more cats would be killers," he mutters, but Berryheart has a point. If there is to be a path to redemption, surely StarClan expects him to walk it despite the weight on his pelt? Surely it's that weight that makes the destination possible?

After a few heartbeats of consideration, Raccoonstripe nods his head. He gently rests his muzzle against Berryheart's shoulder. A thank you. Gratitude for helping him shoulder a burden he thought would kill him. "Never knew you'd be this wise," the warrior teases, meeting Berryheart's grayish-green gaze and offering a small smile. He would live. He would go on suffering from the pain of this self-inflicted wound, for even Berryheart could not cure it -- but he would. He would until it formed a scar, for surely it must be possible?

Surely?​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[BERRYHEART]

If it were easy, more cats would be killers. A nod moved Berryheart's head at his brother's quiet contemplation. That was, indeed, true. More would have means to lose control... though, even in a world like that he hoped many would keep hold upon their restraint. A world where one would want blood on their claws, stained permanently... he could not imagine it.

Never had the tortoiseshell been one for affection, but his littermates had always been closer to him than many- he was glad for Stripes' gratitude, and met it with the smallest purr of satisfaction. He had imagined that, upon his path as a healer, his ultimate goal of guidance had taken a backseat; but here he had proven that the capability still slumbered within him. And- more importantly, he had aided his brother in working through something that had been gnawing at the tissue of his mind for moons. Though he knew not the pain of concealing that sort of secret, he was glad to help alleviate even half of the burden he was imagining.

He met Stripes' smile with his own. The teasing did not go over his head- but even the slightest implication glowed with warmth. "Am I, now? I suppose I get it from our mother." Not hers by blood, but forged every other way, in manner and mind... to think he had that same capability was encouraging. Stripes would be sent forth- would fight past his pain, he hoped. And in the meantime- he was on standby to lend an ear again, if ever it was required.

A paw knocked against his brother's foreleg, an affirmative nod bobbing his head. "I'll be here." For as long as he was needed, for pain skin-deep or otherwise. ​

PENNED BY PIN ☾​