private fester \\ lightningstone

[brookstorm]

Brookpaw's reaction to the news of the gathering had been rather... muted. If Lichentail taught her anything (and, in truth, the other is a valued mentor, even if she is a subpar, bratty apprentice,) it's that loud reactions only cause trouble. She supposes that has so far caused her much grief (why hasn't she cried for her mother yet? Did she ever love the she-cat, or was their relationship fabricated?) but what use is exposing inner thoughts in front of crowds of cats who don't care? WindClanners, ThunderClanners - all of them, really, only care about internal affairs. Just as they should.

The sun is dipping beneath the horizon line and Brookpaw spies her father lingering by the stream. She has false memories of the spot - of all the times Buckgait and Lightningstone would tell them that, once they're home, they'll play in the water. Lightningstone wanted to teach them to swim, and... never got the chance. Yet she looks on fondly, though it makes her chest ache.

"Lightningstone," she greets the grey tom before sitting beside him. She's content in shared silence, watching as the lost sun paints the skies and water several shades and beyond. Yet all the same, she wants to know. Her voice is quiet, meek, and she asks, "Should I be scared...?"​

 

[LIGHTNINGSTONE]

The water laps gently at gray paws where the warrior sits. A creased brow gives away how deep in thought he is as his eyes bore into the rippling water. Yellowcough. Yellowcough is the name of this mysterious illness, and it has brought death to the forest. Briefly, he wonders if he should run away. Take his kits in the night and leave this diseased forest once and for all. Save them all from the terrible fate of dying a humiliating, delirium-filled death. He couldn’t save Buckgait, he couldn’t save Rainwhisker….but maybe he could still save the rest of his family.

His train of thought is interrupted by the approach of his daughter, the one who seems to have taken after him the most of all of them, with her stony gray pelt and ears that curl inwards. He glances at her, his look more of a greeting than most cats get from the warrior. Softly, she asks a question he himself doesn’t know the answer to. Lightningstone stares at her, expression tired and thoughtful, before finally responding back gruffly, “Yes.”

He doesn’t honey-coat things, everyone knows this about him. The tom looks back at the water, his ears twitching. “We need to be careful. Whatever this is…it’s not something even StarClan can help us with.” ​

 

[brookstorm]

Brookpaw knows not of her father's escapist ideas. She's a born RiverClanner, fortunately or otherwise. Her heart rests with loyalty - with the cats she's known since birth, the water she's tread for moons. Leaving isn't even a blip in her mind, though she knows that it has less to do with loyalty and more to do with broken hearts.

Buckgait didn't mean to... she tells herself as the bubbling stream is the only noise she hears. Lightningstone speaks, finally, and though his tone doesn't waver or break, she almost wishes it would. She's not only inherited his river pebble fur and curled ears - his stonewalling, cold demeanor is one that was gifted to her. He regards her with more than he does any other RiverClanner, yes, but she wishes he would break. She wishes one of them would.

"Who is StarClan punishing with all of this..." she asks, though she's unsure if she wants an answer. If it were only SkyClan, ruined by the yellowcough as it were, then why must it have spread to the rest of them? Lichentail is sick and clearly worse off than most because of - something or other, Brookpaw clearly doesn't know. And what of her siblings, Meadowpaw and Brightpaw? Her father? She tilts her gaze to Lightningstone, though he still watches the slow moving flow. "Careful," she repeats, a tone of agreement in her words, "Who to be careful of, though? It seems like some cats just... drop, and show no signs before."​

 

[LIGHTNINGSTONE]

He doesn't have an answer for her. He frowns, ears pulling back before he drags his gaze to her face again. He hesitates, jaws opening, but ends up shaking his head. "StarClan isn't doing this. I'm sure of that." Rainwhisker would never seek to harm anyone. And he has faith that she is up there in Silverpelt looking down on them, helpless like the rest of the stars.

Her next question is even more impossible to answer. He draws in a breath, scans the camp for a heartbeat with distrusting eyes. "You don't trust anyone," He tells her suddenly, his voice a murmur. "No one but me. No one but your brother and sister..." In a rare show of physical affection, he brings his tail around to wrap loosely around her haunches, his own eyes dropping. He can't lose her. He won't.​