cold mourning stretches ↷ walking back from gathering

[smogstar]

The ShadowClan experience is reasonably straightforward.

As a general rule, you are supposed to always be at your clanmates' throats. That is at least how Smogmaw gauges it. Food is minimal in this nick of the woods, and just being able to live another day is an effort requiring both confidence and cooperation. Keeping your peers on their toes through casual hostility and vague threats is crucial. When nobody is comfortable, everybody is on their guard. And when everybody is on their guard, you have a clan full of survivors.

But the moment some outside force musters the gall to approach a ShadowClan cat with an unfriendly tongue, the mutual disgust for one another becomes an unbreakable bond. Some clans are bound by moral codes, others by religious philosophy. ShadowClan is united in their hatred.

What better night to highlight this than the eve of the gathering. Never has Smogmaw seen his clan so free from infighting, with discourse surrounding a certain medicine cat stoking the resentful fires in their hearts. When Cicadastar took the stage to preach Bonejaw's half-truths, just about every one of the swamp cats looked at him with the same caustic stare. Even Poppypaw - as erratic as she is - had a few choice words for RiverClan's leader.

It goes without saying that quite a bit has happened in the moon since the last assembly. The other clans were having skirmishes at their borders, and RiverClan has basically opened theirs up to function as a refugee camp. How unfortunate that those sandbrains all knew him as this child-maiming degenerate - he'd love to take a vacation right about now.

With the gathering having run its course, the five clans receded from Fourtrees and made off for their respective territories. The mackerel tabby is just another face in the throng of ShadowClan cats en route back to camp. He wears his typical dreary scowl, but internally he feels strangely sanguine. Seeing that everybody is on the same page now lightens the burden of knowing he'll soon starve. "Welp, that was hectic," expresses Smogmaw, not really regarding anyone in particular. "Am I right to say that RiverClan can kiss my ass? 'Cause they're actin' all high-and-mighty for a bunch'a mouth breathers."​

 

[FLICKERFIRE]

( : ̗̀➛ ) RiverClan. She's barely spared them a thought since Cicada had left them to live among the reeds, leaving his Clanmates behind for waters rich with fish. She'd known the man her whole life, and there had once been an easy friendship between the two of them -- one she's sure he's all but forgotten now, now that he's King of Fish, higher and mightier than them all.

She gives Smogmaw a look filled with anger. "Cicadastar thinks he's better than us now, but he's not! He fought the pine cats just like the rest of us. Killed 'em like the rest of us. Good to see he's still stupid as the fish he likes so much." She lashes her tail, jaw clenched. "He doesn't even like women and Bonejaw has duped him! Frogbrain!"

She sinks her claws into the frosty mire, anger slowly sizzling to red-hot coals and cinders. It does no good to hate RiverClan, does it? But... to hear Bonejaw had slandered them so, told lies to make her own callous self look better...

She lets out a hiss of frustration. "We can't trust anyone but ourselves." ShadowClan and, of course, Emberstar, though she lets that go unsaid. She knows she's alone in that sentiment.​

( WELL I WON'T EVER CHANGE MY WAYS ; AND I CAN'T BE STRONG )

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

as dull as they feel, they feel they need to speak up. they had to say something because... this was what the hell they'd been saying the entire time. they had no one but themselves. every other clan casted them off to be the filthy mutts of the swamp. feral beasts who waited in the darkness for enemies to cross their borders, only to attack without mercy. and if that was what they thought– who was shadowclan to deny them?

"she's a filthy liar. a conniving adder tongued fool. how cicadastar can even begin to believe her only proves that he ain't as good as he thinks he is. she was a traitor the moment she decided we weren't good enough. she had no plans to return. she only gave starlingheart a position she wasn't ready for. and what of those other dopes, hm? what if bonejaw had spilled it to everyone, too? tch. they want us to be monsters, yeah? i don't see why not."

chilledgaze walked in a slow pace, stalking across the cold lands with an almost unreadable look on their face.

"we don't need those fucks. we don't need anyone but each other. we will show them just how nasty we can be."
​

[ NOBODY ELSE MATTERS, GIRL ]​

 

[Poppypaw ★]

Poppypaw plodded along behind the warriors with her head low and her eyes red and puffy, sniveling angrily because she'd been publically embarrassed at the gathering and she never wanted to go to another one EVER AGAIN.
"I can't believe she made me SOUND SO UNCOOL..." The red and white apprentice lashed her tangled and curly tail in frustration before dashing ahead with a furious wail, "It was a BABY SCRATCH! Smogmaw's not good enough to hurt me! I'm too FAST! I'm too good at fighting! She made it sound like I got mauled and I'd NEVER LOSE LIKE THAT!" Without pause the apprentice kept sprinting ahead, paws slapping the muddy and slush covered ground as she splashed her away to the front to keep running back to camp, she was going to tell Siltpaw how STUPID EVERY RIVERCLANNER WAS! She was going to tell Starlingheart too and get bad plants and go put them in the river so they drank the water and DIED LIKE THEY DESERVED!
She hoped Bonejaw's kittens were all born ugly like Smogmaw! So she'd be so ashamed she'd have to drown them!

​

 

[Tornadopaw]

If you don't like me, that's your problem

Tornado's head lifts from her paws as the sound of cats meet her ears. Her brows pinch together, noting that their moods seemed even more sour than when they left. Poppypaw was wailing, Chilled and Smog looked irritated and Flickerfire gave off the impression she would tear someone's head off. Slowly the girl rose to her paws, stretching before walking up the rest of the way as a few of them finally entered camp. With hostility practically radiating off the group in waves, Tornado tipped her head to the side ever so slightly in a questioning manner. "What happened out there?" She'd missed the gathering by a hair. Had she been dubbed an apprentice beforehand she would have been able to spectate along with them. ​

When I let it bother me, that's my problem​

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[PITCHSTAR]

there is a pounding behind pitchstar's eyes as he stalks back towards his forsaken home. bonejaw, joining riverclan... he doesn't know what hurts more, her initial betrayal or the blatant lies she'd whispered into cicadastar's ears about the clan she'd tossed to the side. mad man, the willowy riverclan leader had spat in pitchstar's direction. the title had been thrust upon him by someone he'd once called a friend, and there's no doubt that the cat he'd once called an aunt believed it, too. mad man, he is, for thinking of his clan's needs above everything else.

pitchstar wants to sink his claws into that devilishly pretty face of cicadastar's. he wants to watch the river's king bleed, paint the waters he left his home behind for, crimson. mad man, they thought him to be, and so he would be. if there is no changing their minds, why should he expend the effort to try?

they've never tried to understand, after all.

"chilledgaze and flickerfire are right," pitchstar snarls in tandem with his council members. his clanmates are angry, and they deserve to be. chilledgaze declares that they don't need those bastards, flickerfire that they can't trust anyone but themselves, and they're right to say so. since when have the other clans, outside of windclan, helped shadowclan? we've been the outcasts from the start, haven't we? "the other clans wouldn't give a fuck if we dropped dead where we stand, so why don't we return the favor? from here on out, shadowclan won't bat a damn eye at the suffering of the other clans- aside from windclan- just as they do to us." an eye for an eye... if riverclan dared to show their pathetic faces in the swamp, after tonight, begging for shadowclan's help... pitchstar will sooner line his nest with their glossy pelts. we will show them just how nasty we can be, his deputy's words ring in his aching head, and he finds righteousness in their fury.

poppypaw runs ahead, screeching about how unfair it is that bonejaw over-exaggerated her injury. normally, pitchstar would grind his teeth against her grating voice, but tonight he agrees with her. bonejaw has no right to claim that smogmaw maimed an apprentice, when it had hardly even been a scratch. fleeing shadowclan from fear, cicadastar had recounted, when all pitchstar had ever done was fight for her protection. and he would've fought for her kits' protection, too-

never again. you're dead to me, bonejaw.

tornadopaw greets them from the entrance of the camp, inquires about what happened. pitchstar pushes past her with a derisive snort. "shadowclan's being framed as the bad guys again; nothing new for a gathering," pitchstar hisses through gritted teeth. let someone else fill tornadopaw in- he doesn't want to recount the events of tonight in fear of making his growing headache worse.​

 

[SHARPSHADOW]

† Probably, is the response that comes to mind with Smogmaw's question. They weren't all awful. Iciclepaw approached with her chin and tail lifted high, a haughty look in her eye, but she was smart, unlike the rest of them. She could look to her leader with a questioning gaze, didn't blindly believe the words of a snake; but clearly, the rest of them did. Gullible. After all Bonejaw had done, suddenly she has morals?

And Sharppaw's breaths are shaky as he listens to the bickering of the clan. Silently, he agrees with Flickerfire, and Chilledgaze too, for once, all of them made sense. Well, not Poppypaw, not really, but distantly he hoped that her outburst brought a light sparking in the eyes of some of those Riverclanners. That if this was the apprentice who had been 'brutally attacked' maybe she– maybe–

Sharppaw blinks warily at Tornadopaw. "B-bonejaw ran straight to Riverclan, apparently..." he elaborates, bites back the frustrated scream bubbling in his stomach.

"I-it isnt fair... Bonejaw," was already terrible. Was already cruel. She never cared about anything. "S-she was no better! But everyone was– was still always so nice to her–" Loved unconditionally just because she was someones aunt and someone's sister. She'd never done a thing wrong. A simple mistake, justified, because she never wanted this, but she never even tried. How many cats did try, and yet could never even dream of being met with the love Bonejaw always had been. "A-and then she took it, and she–" she put it into the ground. Punished her family for loving her. "And now she– she's better than us? Now we're evil?"

Sparkkit died because Bonejaw would rather run to Riverclan than look back at herself.

Maybe the other medicine cats were right to attack her.​

 

[smogstar]

Conversation sprouts between his clanmates in the wake of his own comment, and to little surprise at all, their dialogue fixates on Bonejaw straight away. He has little to add to the discussion beyond what has already been said - and StarClan knows the amount of choice words ShadowClan had for its former medicine cat. Sullen eyes remain fixed ahead, quietly watching the snow-capped flora pass by. The outline of home emerges amidst the scenery and draws ever-closer. A frown attached to his maw, Smogmaw tries to shake the echoing grievances of Poppypaw from his skull before crossing the camp's threshold.

As per usual, the group of gathering-goers are immediately met with questions from those who stayed in the territory. He cannot blame Tornado for her nosiness in this instance, though, given the uniform expressions of revulsion worn on everybody's faces.

His mind wanders when Pitchstar provides an answer, particularly to Flickerfire's remarks about the RiverClan leader. "He doesn't even like women," the lead warrior had said, and while he hadn't reacted at the time, the displeased demeanour on his mug is broken as he recalls it. Sharppaw speaks next, again about Bonejaw, but the apprentice's words seem to come from a place of bewilderment more than anger.

"Pettiness," he scowls, glancing towards the black cat, "and narcissism, too." His focus then falls upon the clan's leader. "That's all it is: a game of spite. ShadowClan has not 'changed', no matter how much Bonejaw or Cicadastar preaches it." Frustration dominates his tone of voice, but there's a coinciding trace of gratification. "RiverClan's leader is acting all high 'n mighty for letting deserters and exiles join his clan, but one must wonder how actual RiverClanners feel about this; if Pitchstar starts prioritising the other clans' runaways over us, I'll go for his throat. No offense."

A weighted sigh parts from his throat. It's all so tiresome, dwelling on recent events, and it certainly doesn't help the underlying stress they all felt. "Let us not be like RiverClan," affirms the tom, "we must be staunch in what we value, what we breathe for. The other clans can punch down to their hearts' content; so long as we've got each other, we aren't going anywhere."

He wants to stop talking right then and there. The mere act of speaking at length gnaws at his mental faculties, given each and every sentence that comes out of his mouth is painstakingly picked and pieced together. But, there's a final thing he wants to put out there - a demand, more than a request. "Enough about Bonejaw," he grumbles. "We should be focusing on the success of our current medicine cat rather than our previous, oathbreaking one." Plus, every time that wretch's name is uttered, the blood in his veins starts to curdle. The absolute cheek of her to blame his actions for her departure.​