private IM NOT A VIOLENT DOG — scorchstorm.

[THISTLEKIT]

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The sun is at its zenith when Thistlekit leaves the nursery, the shared family nest even emptier now as Bunnypaw moved in with the apprentices. It was bittersweet for them to be apprenticed at different times, all because Cottonsprig brought in a sick kitten that infected half the Clan — as hyperbolic as that sentiment was — and then left so WindClan would deal with it on their own. Even worse than that was the lack of Rattleheart around. Their mom hadn't been there to watch Bunnypaw's promotion, and they wouldn't be here to watch theirs either. Thistlekit remembers stories of yore the lead warrior used to share. It saddens him to know she won't be able to share such tales with her future grandkits, or to tell him and his littermates any new ones.

He seeks family. Not his father or his littermates. Someone who has answers, someone who will actually tell him what happened that day. Scorchstorm was there. She was to one to bring Rattleheart's body back. The conflagrant pelted she-cat had been one of the last few to see his mother alive. She'd felt the warmth leave Rattleheart's body for the last time, heard the final exhale of air. Thistlekit needed to know how that happened. Why that happened.

He waits. The prickly-furred kitten sits and waits until he sees his cousin, his blood and flesh. The seal-point doesn't know how long it takes until she's back from her duties, but he notices the fresh-prey pile is now replete. The kitten slithers towards Scorchstorm, his long tail dragging behind him. She'd never really visited them in the nursery before, and now she seemed to avoid even looking at the place. He could make a solicitous inquiry about it later, after he was done asking what he desired to know.

"Scorchstorm," He greets, pawing at the she-cat to garner her attention. The others in camp carried susurrous conversations that didn't matter to him now. "Could you tell me about the day my mom. . . the day Rattleheart died?" Thistlekit's voice is low, but his frigid gaze meets her blazing eyes with confidence. He needs to know. No matter how much it will hurt.

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 *:･ﾟ✧ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓

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  ooc. — @SCORCHSTORM
  
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  LH Seal-point with low white​

  
• 
  
  
  THISTLEKIT he / him kit of windclan
  son of Rattleheart x Venomstrike, brother to Bunnypaw, Crunchykit, Vinekit and Splinterkit.
  Lissom seal-point prickly-furred kitten with white markings on his face, chest, belly, paws and tail. His tail is long and has a tufted tip.
  "speech" thoughts

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[SCORCHSTORM]

Bunnypaw's apprenticeship is something to be celebrated. Sedgepounce will train her well, and in time she will become a capable moor runner in her own right. But it is difficult to celebrate her achievement when her siblings lag behind, impeded by illness — when her very mother cannot see her grow.

Scorchstorm has tried not to think about it, but her efforts have been in vain. She'd patrolled until her pawpads were raw, but then she'd fallen ill, and all she could think about in that noxious sick-nest was the way that Rattleheart had rotted in it four seasons prior. He'd struggled so hard back to life. It seems a cruel punishment that that tenacity for life has now been severed so quickly, so easily, gone in a snap of sinew.

She has tried not to think about it, but when Thistlekit makes his bid for attention, she startles out of visions of Rattleheart's cooling body. Scorchstorm fixes the kit in her gaze, mechanical, carved marble. "Thistlekit," she greets back, abrupt in a way that makes it clear she is grasping at her awareness as kits grasp at butterflies. She does not mean to be so absent-minded. It is hard not to be, though, when Thistlekit looks so much like a cousin he has never met, and when his very existence serves to remind her of the cat they have both lost.

And then he asks the question. It is something she could have predicted, but had not taken the care to. Thistlekit wants to know about Rattleheart's death. The day she had returned with her aunt's body, she had tried her best to keep him from it — but there is no use in keeping him from it any longer, is there?

The warrior swallows, thick, uncertain. She holds his icy gaze as surely as she can. "Okay," she concedes, "I will." A bid for time — for seconds, really, as she tries to piece it all together from her shattered memory. She remembers the cresting of the hill, the sight of Rattleheart, the screaming, but then she is in camp, and then she is cursing Roepaw and Beefang at the gorge, and then she is collapsed at Rattleheart's side, brought into camp. The timeline is all out of sorts.

Scorchstorm takes a breath, and then begins. "Rattleheart was ahead of our border patrol. We were on RiverClan's border, and... I did not see what happened before, but there was a bird — a harrier — that took hold of a RiverClan apprentice." Molten eyes dip to the horizon, made foggy by the recollection. She pauses as the sound washes over her again, as if the screeching raptor was still with her, as if the thud of a body hitting earth could ever be forgotten. She remembers Little Wolf, too, even if much more briefly. What a sight for a girl hardly older than Thistlekit is now. What a thing to relive. Maybe it is irresponsible to tell him in such detail, but maybe it would prepare him, too. She can only hope the latter would be true.

"The harrier would have carried him away were it not for your mother. Rattleheart gave his life to save that apprentice." A favor Beefang had been so damned ungrateful for. Scorchstorm's claws worry into the soil beneath her as she recalls the snide remark at the end of it all; You must remember that this clan is cursed. One death after another. The echo of the fish-breath's chuckle puts heat into her chest all over again. She can at least spare her cousin the petty politics of it all. She finds Thistlekit's frosty blue gaze once more, her own grave in its dimness. "The bird wounded him terribly. Wolfsong could not have done anything to save him. I told him the apprentice was safe. I will not know if he heard me until I see him in StarClan."

Scorchstorm does not speak for a few moments after that. She will not make sweeter the terrible event; will not deny Rattleheart her heroism but will not endorse it, either. It had been stupid to give a life for a RiverClanner. A RiverClanner whose mentor laughed at them, whose mentor joked about Bluepool's tumbling demise, whose mentor was not worth a damn. She does not think before she speaks, lip curling, tongue thirsting for crimson ichor. "Thistlekit, your mother died for that apprentice. I did not catch his name, but his mentor, Beefang, did not honor Rattleheart's sacrifice. If it is the last thing I do, I will punish her for that." Her eyes flash. "You should, too, when you are grown."

And what a terrible thing it is, to charge a child with revenge. He is so much smaller than she is — so new to the world, a sponge for influence. But Scorchstorm does not see it as terrible. She will make right what Beefang wronged the day she let Rattleheart shoulder her duty as mentor. But the anger cannot toil forever, not when grief douses it so readily. In a heartbeat, Scorchstorm loses her righteous fire. An ember in the hearth, she rasps to her cousin, "what else can I tell you?"

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 ✧

• ooc.
  
• SCORCHSTORM —— warrior of windclan, mentored by sunstar & badgermoon . scorchstreak x badgermoon . littermate to rumblerain, frostwind, and luckypaw ✦ penned by meghan
  
  ✦ a broad-shouldered tortoiseshell with low white and dual-toned amber eyes. extremely loyal to sunstar and her family, and enjoys a deep connection to the moorlands
  ✦ demigirl / she they pronouns / lesbian / 17 moons & ages every 1st
  ✦ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / underline & tag account when attacking
  —— will start fights / will not flee / may show mercy. fights honorably and with great ferocity. can tank a few hits, but is not the sturdiest cat in windclan. starts fights with the intention of finishing them permanently, but will not aim to maim or kill obviously young cats
  
  ✦ "speech", thoughts, all opinions are in character
  ✦ full biography — msg on discord for plots — toyhouse
  

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[THISTLEKIT]

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The kitten is thankful that she's willing to talk about it. His cousin had been there to witness it all, and he doubted anyone else would've been as open with it as Scorchstorm was. We were at the RiverClan border. RiverClan. It always led back to them, somehow. He's been told about Bluepool's death to the gorge, the hostility between both Clans only growing with each generation. The. . . fish-eaters were so keen on tearing families apart.

The harrier would have carried him away were it not for your mother. Rattleheart gave his life to save that apprentice. His mother had died a warrior's death for a RiverClan apprentice. She chose to give her life for a Riverclanner's. An apprentice, too, no less — why did none of their warriors jump in to save their own? Why had Rattleheart be the one to do it?

Why? Why were they so cruel? Why did they take him from me?

His mentor, Beefang, did not honor Rattleheart's sacrifice. His eyes widen. After having their own apprentice nearly die, after he had to be saved by a Windclanner, their mentor still had the nerve to be unkind? To - to laugh, like Rattleheart didn't die for her own apprentice? Where was this Beefang, when their own was being carried by a harrier? Taking a jaunt around their territory?

Beefang was a name he would carry with him until the day he died. And he would find out who her apprentice was, too. It's all their fault.

I will punish her for that. You should, too, when you are grown. He looks up at the warrior, his tail flicking irritably as he pictures the Riverclanners chuckling at Rattleheart's sacrifice. His chest is set ablaze, his blood roars in his ears. He wants his mother back by his side, he wants his family to be together again, he wants to laugh at them like they did, he wants. . .

revenge.

The revelation is like an eclipse shadowing his body. Like Scorchstorm's shadow casts upon him and blocks the sun in its entirety. His methods of achieving what he wants may not be orthodox, but could he afford it after what he's learned today? What else can I tell you? His cousin's voice snaps him out of his darkening thoughts, but he sits quietly for a moment longer. "I have always dreamed of being a tunneler," Thistlekit hesitates, like the words wound him so. "because of Rattleheart, and now to honor her after everything — but," He looks away, as if ashamed of himself for even coming up with these ideas. "If I were to become a. . . moor-runner. . . would you be my mentor?" He'd asked Scorchstreak to be his mentor once, too. But Scorchstorm seemed to share the same mindset he did, with RiverClan. . .

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 *:･ﾟ✧ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓

• 
  ooc. —
  
• 
  

  LH Seal-point with low white​

  
• 
  
  
  THISTLEKIT he / him kit of windclan
  son of Rattleheart x Venomstrike, brother to Bunnypaw, Crunchykit, Vinekit and Splinterkit.
  Lissom seal-point prickly-furred kitten with white markings on his face, chest, belly, paws and tail. His tail is long and has a tufted tip.
  "speech" thoughts

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