private I NEED ANOTHER MIRACLE — skyclaw, duskbird

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar hovers at the ThunderClan border for what seems like hours. The air is heavy, wet with a chill that coats his fur and settles in his bones—he cannot shake it, no matter how swiftly he paces. There’s no sign of any of Howlingstar’s warriors—he hasn’t heard anything but the wind rattle the naked tree branches together, nothing but the faint cry of a crow in the distance. One cry, two, three. He paces again, his tail lashing once with irritation. He needs to speak to Howlingstar.

But crossing this border is not something he has done since Little Wolf had been his mate. Since he’d bid farewell to his family, to his daughter’s body as she was taken to be buried where her kin resided. Blazestar imagines snow lining the leaf-crusted earth, imagines blood splashed on imaginary drifts of white.

After another prolonged bout of waiting in vain, Blazestar takes a precarious step over the border. He is SkyClan’s leader, and Howlingstar’s warriors would surely grant him safe passage—and he does not intend to go far, after all. This is urgent, this issue with WindClan; where normally, he would wait until the full moon truce, he is driven further into the oaken forest.

Leaves crunch. There’s a new scent on the blustering wind, one that is both foreign and achingly familiar. His hackles raise, but he does his best to force them flat as he comes face to face with a pair of ThunderClan warriors. One wears a pelt of mottled earthen hues; the other’s fur is black, interrupted with patches of bristling tawny stripes. He seeks two pairs of amber eyes, and he searches them for some semblance of the mother they’d lost.

“Skypaw, Duskpaw,” he breathes. He takes a faltering step toward the pair of them. “I’m here to see Howlingstar. I won’t be long, I—” His voice cuts off when he senses the unbridled hostility that begins to seep into the air.

[ @skyclaw @DUSKBIRD ]

, ”​

​

 

[skyclaw]

A few sun rises - that's all he's experienced yet as a warrior. Patrolling is much of the same, albeit he's not so closely tied to his leader anymore, and though his nest inhabits a new den, many of the cats inside it are familiar. At most he is able to escape on his own, before the sun begins to climb, and watch its ascension through the sky without being negged for his adolescence. But even that new change, in the short sparing stints the sun affords him, is enough.

This is not that, though. This, is a freedom walk with his littermate. Duskbird and Skyclaw, two of the newest warriors in ThunderClan. He almost wishes they had invited Falconheart, too, but all the same cherishes the time with his brother. He hardly notices how their stroll errs to a border he loathes - not until the pine laden scent tickles his nose. Disgust morphs into some sort of frustrated shock when he realizes how many fox-lengths from the border he is.

"Must be another kittypet," Skyclaw remarks, casting a glance towards his brother. And the SkyClanners were doing well, keeping their inepts well and leashed. He flicks his tail and rolls his shoulders back, striding towards the offending scent. Amber eyes eventually find a creamy colored ragdoll - a tom all too familiar, for far too many awful reasons. Skyclaw's jaw is slack for a moment, trying to gauge why Blazestar would so crassly trespass like this. His surprise numbs his skill and a hefty paw crunches the leaves beneath it, alerting the large leader.

Blazestar stares at them, greets them amicably, kindly. With the wrong names, sure, but he wouldn't know yet (rationalizing the mistake makes him feel sick.) Skyclaw's nose wrinkles, and just as Blazestar tapers off, he picks up - "Do you think you're exempt from the code?" Skyclaw wonders if he sounds as sturdy and unyielding as he wants to believe himself to be, or if his tone wobbles like a fearful kitten's does. He notices the struggling step SkyClan's leader makes towards him and Duskbird, and at first, he takes one back.

He thinks of the tom in conjunction with his family, how Blazestar must think the border as hardly an obstacle when he has kin and friends beneath the oak trees. He wants to chat with Howlingstar - over something important, surely, but even leaders are supposed to follow the laws they set in place. Territories and borders were enacted for a reason, Little Wolf told them plenty of moral imbued stories regarding the start of the Clans, of TigerClan, LionClan - their ferocity to protect what is theirs.

It's a mere moment after the recline where Skyclaw surges forward, lumbering form breaking from the leafless undergrowth and barreling towards Blazestar. He uses his heft to knock his shoulder into Blazestar's chest, hoping to send the tom sprawling - or, at least, wind him. The kind thing to do would be to chase him back to the border - but the space between their territories has been abused far to often by him and his cats. An example, yes, an example must be made.

"You will not be speaking with Howlingstar today," Skyclaw grunts, shaking out his pelt. He takes a few hulking steps towards Blazestar, his grimace deepening as he does, "You've forfeited that right."​

 

[DUSKBIRD]

It was still so strange, and Duskbird had thought that it would end with this new name. That a new identity would cut through the strings of yellowcough still puppeteering him around — that if he ceased to be Duskpaw, the cat that had nearly died, the cat that had slept through his mothers' passing, everything would be fine again. Fragile freedom is cradled close to the warrior's chest as he walks shoulder to shoulder with his brother (now tied together with trauma as much as blood), but the strings still lift each paw and skip through each heartbeat. A reminder of the death that could come to him so very soon. He struggles not to linger there for long. The determination that had guided him through his early apprenticeship had twisted like a thorn through his skin.

No longer could Duskbird strive to be the best for legacy and blood. He would thrive so that he may survive. So that every terrible thing that happened would never be enough to end him. That is what his family is good at. He's pressed himself into the ideology that Skyclaw and Moonwhisper seemed to embody. SkyClan had done it. It was their fault that Little Wolf died.

Why doesn't it feel right, then?

Still he scoffs amusement at his brother's remark, tail tip twitching a quiet approval despite his own uneasy limbs. They take him back, back, back, what feels like a mile but must really only be a half-stride, as Blazestar comes to view. The tom had never felt real. Strange, to call a clan leader fake, but what did he know of him except his mother's pain, and his clanmates' ire? What did he know about Blazestar aside from Moonwhisper's bitter our mother deserved better than to die for kittypet blood. As if her venomous tongue would be enough to chase its taint from her own veins; as if kittypet was a terrible thing to be. And that was Blazestar's fault. Everything was Blazestar's fault. The reason that Duskbird and Skyclaw would never know half of their family. That they must go to battle against them if tensions rose too high. His mother mourning kittens she would only see on borders until the day that she died, terrible and alone with another mate at her side because he–

He chose SkyClan. (The very root of his heart knows that's cruel to say.)

"Skyclaw–" His quaking voice cut off, he lunges towards the tom as well. Did he mean to wrench his brother from the leader's pelt? His paws instead slam towards the cream tom's shoulder in succession with Skyclaw's thrown shoulder. Get him off, get him back, go away, let this be over and end.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓  ╱╱ —𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 〚 12.04.2023 〛 ————————

• OOC. —
• 
  BLAZESTAR x LITTLE WOLF, UNAWARE OF HIS FATHER. SIBLING TO SKYCLAW; "HALF" SIBLING TO BURNSTORM, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYPAW, MORNINGPAW. MENTORED BY NIGHTBIRD. NEWFOUND THUNDERCLAN WARRIOR.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LANKY CHOCOLATE TORBIE, AMBER EYES.
•  

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Blazestar’s ears twitch at the ginger-striped warrior’s immediate rebuke. “Do you think you’re exempt from the code?” The Ragdoll’s own jaw goes slightly slack with surprise. “Not at all,” he says, even as he thinks, Your very existence proves I do, doesn’t it? He studies first him, then the chocolate-splashed torbie beside him, sees the muscles rippling beneath fluffed-out fur, the length of their limbs, the angry gleam of their amber stares. He searches for signs of himself in first Skypaw, then Duskpaw, and he sees it in their size, the gloss of their pelts, the enormity of Skypaw’s paws and the thick, ruffled mane sprouting about Duskpaw’s throat.

His own throat closes, aching. He can see Little Wolf in them, too, and he can see their siblings, and yet he has no right to stand and search their features for so long. They seem to think the same thing, in any case. Skypaw moves forward on deft paws, using his bulk to knock his body into Blazestar’s chest. He emits a deep, strangled cry, stumbling backward on weary paws.

The Ragdoll tilts his head up, gasping for air, shock and resignation settling like sediment at the bottom of his blue eyes. “Please—it’s important, I need to see Howlingstar and this was the only way—” He turns from the hotheaded Skypaw to Duskpaw, who utters his brother’s name. Skyclaw. His kits are warriors, the kits he’d never held between his paws the way he had Fireflypaw, Moonwhisper, Morningpaw—the kits he’d never ruffled the head fur of, the way he had Howlfire or Burnstorm.

And when Duskpaw—warrior name still unknown to him—moves forward in a flash, paws shoving against Blazestar’s chest—he knows deep down, those kits feel that rejection still. It’s there in every movement, in every snap of fire from their eyes. “Please. I won’t fight you.” He exhales, rising to his paws. “I can’t.”

, ”​

​

 

[skyclaw]

Skyclaw knows too little of what his brother feels - hollow, like a wilting tree, masqueraded around as if he has substance to him. Lost without a mother to guide him, lost to the illness that almost stole him. Duskbird's internal thoughts are just that, and though his mock-tortoiseshell brother could very well ask about his feelings, he... doesn't. Ignorance pays and their differences grow larger. But in the moment, Skyclaw feels vindicated. His brother huffs his name - in agreement, in coordination, surely.

Skyclaw stands awkwardly, glaring down at the cream fluffball that's meant to be a leader. He's pleading with them - two new warriors, and he's acting like a kitten who's moss ball has been taken from him. He must speak with their grandmother, and Skyclaw can admit that the importance built behind Blazestar's words are felt. Yet all the same, he must follow the code as established. Do not trespass, and defend your land.

There's a blip in his chest as the other speaks again. For a brief thought, Skyclaw considered letting the ragdoll be. Chasing him to the border would be easy, and he and Duskbird can report that SkyClan is trespassing once again. But then Blazestar says that he won't fight them. Can't - a correction - and a fire burns in the mottled tom's gaze as he tries to parse why simply from their few interactions. He doesn't wait - if Blazestar feels his presence so important, then he must fight. He must make it worth it. For if Skyclaw and Duskbird simply allow the tom to do as he pleases... then what kind of warriors are they?

"You'll have to," he spits, and he lunges forward again. Ears fold back as he aims his clawed paws to plant squarely on the other's chest. He anticipates Blazestar to wriggle, to give up his pacifism and fight back - and so he dives toward, fangs dipping towards Blazestar's throat. And if they find purchase, they do not let go. He'll make the SkyClan leader fight, and if not, then he'll take everything he has. It's only just.​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Skyclaw’s eyes burn like fire as he spits in his father’s face, “You’ll have to.” Claws pierce Blazestar’s chest through the ruff of fur at his neck and throat, and the force behind the blow sends him staggering onto his back. He lets his body slacken, staring with horror as his kit’s teeth shoot toward the exposed flesh of his throat. Blazestar lets out a gurgling protest as Skyclaw’s fangs fasten into his neck—“No, pl— It’s cut off. Pain, red and hot and blazing, shoots through him, its heated center starting just below his face and radiating in streaks of fire through to his paws and tail. He shakes his head, as if to protest what’s happening, but Skyclaw has him fixed, has him crucifixed and hanging.

Blood wells from his wound, and then seems to do the same behind his eyes. He spasms, claws uselessly and almost gently patting at his son’s shoulders to try to get him to release his grip. He wants to shriek at the unfairness of the situation—that these two ThunderClan warriors must defend their territory from their unassuming father, from the father who’d all but abandoned them, his kits who now live parentless in ThunderClan.

“S…sorry,” he chokes. Bloodied spit bubbles at the corners of his mouth, and his head lolls back. His vision darkens, just as the silhouette of another cat enters the scene, their fur bushed out and their eyes wide.

, ”​

​

 

[DUSKBIRD]

"Skyclaw!" The second cry comes too late, shattered breaths pulled from his chest, and yes, yes, there's abandonment, there's anger, there's loss and pain. But overwhelming all of those in that moment are fear. When he looks at his brother the world spins in slow motion. He sees the pale of his fangs split through thick fur and flesh. Each droplet of red that wells up is built up like morning dew upon a strand of grass before it grows heavy enough to fall. And it does fall. It spills across his littermate's lips and there's a deep, terrible moment where he regrets ever having laid a paw against the SkyClan leader. His pathetic shove had helped build to this moment, momentum freely given. What kinds of warriors would they be if they let him go?

Kinder ones, he thinks.

Cats not so burdened by everything that had happened to them. Who didn't feel the ache of a missing father and the shattering of a family. Does Skyclaw wish he had been born in SkyClan too? Does he wish that he could meet his mother's other kits? He could have known Morningpaw for more than just a blip in the throes of deathly sickness. He could have met the others without all of this anger.

Breaths coming in fast-wet pants, Duskbird pulls at Skyclaw's shoulder, his claws digging slightly into the curve near his chest to try and yank him back. Away from Blazestar's throat. Away from the body's. "Skyclaw, stop, it's over. He's–" Wild-eyed, Duskbird takes his own step back. He was dead. They had killed a part of StarClan.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓  ╱╱ —𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 〚 12.04.2023 〛 ————————

• OOC. —
• 
  BLAZESTAR x LITTLE WOLF, UNAWARE OF HIS FATHER. SIBLING TO SKYCLAW; "HALF" SIBLING TO BURNSTORM, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYPAW, MORNINGPAW. MENTORED BY NIGHTBIRD. NEWFOUND THUNDERCLAN WARRIOR.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LANKY CHOCOLATE TORBIE, AMBER EYES.
•  

​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

It's not the blood-scent that grasps her attention. It's the screeches and yowls, voices she knows all too well. Voices that hold all of her love - she knows them immediately. Skyclaw and Duskbird. She abandons her solo hunt to stand tall with her ears pressed forward, gauging their direction before bounding off in a hurry. The sound is coming from the forest near the SkyClan border, and she prays she isn't about to deal with yet another SkyClan intruder.

But it isn't just a mouse-brained warrior or naive apprentice she finds at the scene. It is Blazestar, pinned beneath the son he has never known before Skyclaw's teeth find a vulnerable throat. "NO!" She yowls in horror, green eyes wide as she barrels forward. Her pelt is fluffed out, tail lashing wildly as she draws nearer, guilt already piercing her heart. No one will ever know. That's what she'd promised Little Wolf. These are ThunderClan kits. Keeping that secret has cost Blazestar a life. It has cost her grandchild his innocence, for now he stands bloodied, a murderer.

"Skyclaw, stop! He's your father!" She finally reaches them, slowing as harshly as she can with her claws digging into the ground. Duskbird has yanked his littermate away and now Howlingstar crouches over her friend's limp body, alarm and sadness etched into her expression. Her jaws are parted in panic, teeth visible in her soundless cry as her head bows in mourning. He will return, but this never needed to happen. Blazestar is no enemy of ThunderClan, and his death should never have come at the claws of his own kin.

There is nothing to do but wait, now. He is dead, and StarClan will have begun to repair his tattered body, sealing his wound. A shaky sigh leaves her as she sits back and sorrowful eyes fall on her grandchildren. "I'm sorry," She chokes, the disappointment in herself crushing her shoulders. "We thought it would be better if no one knew, including you. I'm so sorry." Her head shakes softly, ears flat to her head.​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

When he wakes, it’s in a forest thick with foliage—despite the cold silver light that bathes the undergrowth, the air is warm and redolent with the scent of live prey. His nose twitches first. His eyes open, and his vision is hazy, smoky, until he realizes he’s again in StarClan’s forest. His paws jerk, akimbo and tangled to one side. His mouth is dry and there’s the faintest taste of blood at he back of his throat. He parts his jaws, feeling grass slide between his teeth, and air swishes through his teeth. His tongue feels gritty, like he’d been licking sand before he’d died, but he knows that isn’t the case. He remembers his son’s teeth in his throat. He remembers Duskbird’s panicked eyes, round with fear and regret, Skyclaw’s jaw set and his teeth gnashing together.

He rolls onto his stomach. The raw, red bite of pain is ebbing away slowly as his body repairs itself. Starry pelts swish against his, but when he looks to find the cat who has come to greet him, he finds nothing—no one.

There are whispers in his ears, warnings, but at first he can’t make them out. His body is weaker than it ever has been—how savage had the wound been, how deep?

When he re-enters the waking world, it’s with a desolation that yawns inside of him, a vacuous black hole of dread. His vision is gray at the edges. He can see Howlingstar, can hear her murmur of apology—regret. He stays flat, still twitching slowly back to life.

“I’m so sorry to both of y—you,” he rasps. A raindrop blinks onto his nose bridge, but he does not flinch. He knows he has lost two lives, but he will never tell Skyclaw or Duskbird that—nor will he tell Howlingstar. When he finally rolls onto his stomach, his paws aimlessly crumpling the undergrowth, he fixes her with a determined blue stare.

“This—this never happ…happened,” he wheezes quietly. He does not know how to meet his sons’ eyes. He does not know how to approach this at all anymore, but he knows he will not villanize them for this. “ThunderClan—ThunderClan protected it’s territory… that’s all, Howlingstar.”

He turns beseeching, bruise-colored eyes onto his children. Would they forgive him—would they run to him now, bury their noses into his fur? His pelt prickles with wariness, with fear that radiates off of his body in disjointed waves. He does not know what he wants from them, and somehow that makes everything worse.

, ”​

​

 

[skyclaw]

Skyclaw - awarded his name for his ability to fight - does what he knows best. He holds fast, he holds tight, he spills the blood of another to protect the code, their land, and more. Skyclaw, named for a Clan he does not know, kills the leader of that very Clan. And yet, the limp body of the other does not weaken his grasp so quickly.

There's shouting. Claws arch into his chest to wrench him away from the cream furred tom, his name said in a begging, pleading tone. Someone screams, far off, and the fire in Skyclaw's eyes tapers. The tom whispers a tremored apology, and the blood that spills from his wound seems endless. Skyclaw can still taste it. In the air, on his tongue - the thrill of a kill is almost nauseating, though he would neglect to call it enticing. He would think himself done - he would partake in chasing Blazestar off with this lesson - when he hears Howlingstar finally.

He's your father!

What?

It's as if the world of shouting, pleading, whispers - is silenced at once. Pupils become pin-pointed as he stares down at the SkyClan leader. At - at Blazestar. His father. His father. The blood he tastes may very well be his own and now more than ever does the tom wish to empty the contents of his stomach. All the same does he want to throttle Blazestar more.

"You -" he breathes, and it hitches, and he grits his teeth, "Howlingstar, you knew!?" His leader, his mentor, his grandmother. Kin of his kin, so eagerly ready to hide the sins of his parents. His parents. Little Wolf. She knew, so clear as day she knew. She tried to have them talk to Blazestar at gatherings, and Skyclaw was stuck in the rotation after his mentor passed, and -

He speaks. Blazestar - Blazestar speaks. Skyclaw's eye twitches as he struggles, the apology from the other feeling so... so wrong. For moons he had admonished the tom for the sake of his siblings - siblings who he thought he only shared a mother with - siblings... siblings who don't know. His chest hurts, but he watches as leaders lock eyes with one another. A secret, a second, third, forth (how many!?) secret. Blazestar avoids looking at his sons but when he finally does, he would see the snake-like eyes of Skyclaw, staring deftly at him.

He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what to do. Everything he's known has been a lie or a misrepresentation of the truth, and his youthful kicks tell him that trust is no longer a theory to believe in. Skyclaw finally closes his agape mouth and lets out a wavering sigh, "You..." a pause, and claws grip the ground beneath him, "You should leave. No... no SkyClanner is permitted on ThunderClan land," his tone isn't yet softer, however it holds less malice than minutes ago. The tension behind each syllable remains, however. "Speak to Howlingstar if - if you must, but you have to go."

Skyclaw wonders. If things were different, would he embrace his father? If things were different, would he have had Blazestar alongside him all throughout his kittenhood and more? Would Little Wolf still be alive...?

"I have to go," he utters. Ever the tom to leave abruptly, he bids no farewell to any of the cats around. As Blazestar said; this never happened.​

 

[DUSKBIRD]

↟↟ᨒ   When he was young and childish, Dusk-kit had dreamed of a moment not unlike this. Long before she realized she was he, or that there was more to this forest than the toil of grand ThunderClan warriors throughout the warm forest moons, he thought of his mother, and he thought of his father. And he played patrol. Often those things would intertwine. Sometimes he saved his father from some some terrible trap, and he would come home to make a family of them again. The other queens often had cats that would lick between their ears and bring food with shining eyes. Pride. He and Skykit would make their rounds about camp. The apprentices were disgusting rogues. There would be great battles and greater rescues, but every single story came with a happily ever after.

The two of them always won.

Howlingstar cracks everything in two.

The cat that he had admired since long before he knew what to do with himself was a liar. The leader that he had felt distantly jealous of across the border– equally so. A whirlwind of rage takes his heart and slams it to the ground, where his claws dig in and shred at it, shred the dirt where he stands even now. He'd been so jealous of them all. Of Morningpaw, even, the ghost of a sister he never knew in anything but stories, because she died and her parents loved her, they loved her enough to say goodbye to each other. Now he realizes that it had not been a noble sacrifice of love alone, but them. Blazestar sacrificed his unborn kits. It was– it was good, it was right, and it was selfish, and he hates him for it, absurdly. Hot tears flood and blur his vision until Duskbird can do nothing to hold them back except force his eyes closed and scream.

Birds wings snap to the barren twigs at the sharp noise. They take flight, leaving the area in hysterics. All that remains is Dusk-kit, bereft of their dreams and their games. There is no father left to save.

Like his littermate, he turns without a farewell. A few strides behind him as he always had been, Duskbird simply follows.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓  ╱╱ —𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 〚 01.06.2023 〛 ————————

• OOC. —
• 
  BLAZESTAR x LITTLE WOLF, " ORPHAN " LITTERMATE TO SKYCLAW; HALF SIBLING TO BURNSTORM, MOONWHISPER, HOWLFIRE, FIREFLYPAW, MORNINGPAW. MENTORED BY NIGHTBIRD. NEWFOUND THUNDERCLAN WARRIOR.
  ——— recently discovered his father's identity and is withdrawing into himself. seems distant and troubled, going about his duties absently as if sleepwalking his routine. seems mechanical around his family in particular, or anyone that he suspects knew the truth of his parentage. his ambitions have died quietly.
  
  TOYHOUSE ╱╱ AN ATHLETIC, LANKY CHOCOLATE TORBIE WITH DEEP AMBER EYES.
•  

​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

Her grandchild's scolding lands on flattened ears and eyes that squeeze shut with guilt, muzzle turning towards the ground. She sits in silence as Blazestar's body has life breathed back into it once more. StarClan has worked their miracle - his throat is closed and he is whole again. His uttered apology makes her heart hurt. I'm sorry, Little Wolf. This never should have happened. I'm so sorry. Her eyes finally open when she hears the dead undergrowth crunch beneath the SkyClan leader's weight as he pushes himself upright. Her eyes grow round at his words.

"Blazestar-" His next statement cuts her off, and she listens helplessly as he absolves ThunderClan of all crimes. Absolves his sons of any wrongdoing. Her frown is deep, but beneath the sorrow and disappointment in the situation, there is gratitude in the rings of green irises. Though it pains her to know her grandchildren have cost her friend - her ally, she may even dare to call him - a life, she is silently glad there will be no recourse. ThunderClan can't afford it in leaf-bare, not with the clan they are the friendliest with.

A sharp scream pierces the air, sending the crows overhead flapping away on loud wings. The tabby winces, blinking away her tears to look at both Skyclaw and Duskbird. Helplessly, all she can do is watch them leave. A paw is lifted to go after them, her jaws part, but nothing comes out. The woman who always has advice to give, something to say...there is nothing of worth she can offer them now. "I'm so sorry," She repeats in a murmur, the words following them as they disappear into the undergrowth.​