private smoke’s gonna rise [scorchpaw]

[SCORCHSTREAK]

Scorchpaw showed great skill on their journey to the mountains, crossing rivers and climbing cliffs with a bravery that is better suited to a warrior. The lead warrior is proud of her daughter, and overwhelmingly relieved that Scorchpaw and Luckypaw both made it back home unscathed, for the most part. Neither had needed to be carried back, at least. Still, since returning to their moorland home, Scorchstreak cannot help but to feel as though she hasn’t been as close to her daughter. Scorchpaw has been reassigned to a new mentor, and the tunneler wonders how Scorchpaw feels about it. She’s been passed from one deputy to the next, and it must surely be upsetting for the girl.

The calico approaches her daughter with a small smile, flicking an ear invitingly. "Scorchpaw, care to take a walk with me?" She waits a moment for an affirmative response, before turning to walk off. Scorchstreak would normally lead the two of them into the tunnels, but her daughter doesn’t stand a chance of fitting into the tunnels. After the cave-in back in the mountains, the tunneler is sure that her daughter isn’t eager to step back into any dark enclosed space again. So she sets off in the direction of the camp’s entrance, slipping through with ease and continuing on until she finds a suitable place to talk. "How does it feel, being back in WindClan?" Scorchstreak asks, once they’ve gotten a bit of privacy outside of camp.

// @SCORCHPAW​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

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[SCORCHSTORM]

When her mother invites her to walk, Scorchpaw is eager to join her. It's not often that the two get to spend real time together — even on the journey they had not had many quiet moments despite having little more than each other for WindClan company for a moon and a half. Scorchpaw rises to her paws in a wordless affirmation of her joining Scorchstreak's side. She's glad they avoid the tunnels entirely, too — the cave-in had certainly done a number on her psyche, and the idea of willingly re-entering the tunnels' pitch black maw is one that Scorchpaw has cast aside entirely.

It's beautiful. The moorlands glisten in harsh late afternoon sun, waving invitingly in the cold nip of leaf-fall winds. It's golden grasses and sage scrubs, and prey darts and weaves away from them as the two flame-streaked mollies make their way through the territory. It stops being beautiful when Scorchstreak asks her question. How does it feel, being back in WindClan?

A cold, dead thing in her stomach flips uncomfortably against the acrid lining. Scorchpaw's wide, dual-toned gaze cradles her mother's face for a moment. If she had learned any bravery in the mountains, it has since left her. She remembers Honeyjaw's refusal to return. She remembers the horror she'd felt to see Smogmaw across the border again, realizing that his kits were now WindClan's own. It feels wrong to be back in WindClan. This is not the Clan she'd left, she thinks — it can't be, or else she never would have volunteered herself for such an arduous mission, something that would literally scar her for life. But it is the Clan she has returned to. Does Scorchstreak understand that? Scorchpaw remembers the night that Badgermoon and Curlewnose had fled; remembers the vitriol against her father and his partner. To even entertain that feeling feels like sacrilege after embarking on a journey to prove her blood did not run with the same traitorous conviction; but then, Sootstar had already cast StarClan aside, hadn't she?

"Um, I...." She stumbles, and guilt nibbles at the point where her spine and skull connect. Why can't she tell her own mother how she feels? Had they not been through enough together? "It's... different. It's harsher than I remember as a kit." The words sputter up like bile. Scorchpaw feels guilty, guilty, guilty for ruining the picturesque evening, the kind walk with her mother who she loves so dearly and is dually afraid of. But now that she is spilling, she can't stop: "I mean — the kits. Those aren't... is Sootstar telling the truth? That they're being mistreated in ShadowClan? And Ouzelkit looks just like Smogmaw...."

Finally, the jaws clamp shut around the words, guillotining her spiraling thoughts. Worry crawls in cockroach armies beneath her pelt. The lopped head continues rolling: "I'm just... nervous for the future." Scorchpaw fears she has said too much. Carefully, she appraises her mother's face; her body language; trying to gauge her reaction.

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by giinya, template art by ska-i
  — penned by meghan

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[SCORCHSTREAK]

Walking side by side with her daughter, Scorchstreak finds herself relaxing just a bit. Scorchpaw seems content, comfortable, up until the moment that the lead warrior asks her how it feels to be back home. The younger calico stutters, her tone uncertain, and though Scorchstreak’s eyes narrow, she says nothing until her daughter has finished speaking. She finds herself agreeing wholeheartedly with what Scorchpaw says, but she cannot let the younger cat know that. She is Sunstride’s apprentice now—if she says too much of what Scorchstreak has told her in private, it could spell doom for not only her, but all of her kin. Brightshine’s family is still looked upon with suspicion. Scorchstreak cannot let the same happen to her own. And so the tunneler sets her mouth in a flat line of disapproval, turning to fix Scorchpaw with a fiery stare. "Of course it’s harsher. The clan didn’t have it easy while we were gone." They had been driven from their camp, from their territory, and were forced to beg ThunderClan to help them. WindClan could have been wiped out entirely, had Bluepool not convinced Sootstar to retreat. Of course, it is reasonable that the clan should be more ruthless, more pitiless, than they’d been before. There is no room for dissent when they are barely hanging on as it is. Scorchstreak has witnessed their leader’s volatility already, when Sootstar snapped and threatened Rattleheart, and can only worry more for her family in the months to come.

Still… "And of course Sootstar is telling the truth. What reason does she have to lie to her clan?" She brushes off the comment of Ouzelkit’s similarity to Smogmaw. She can practically hear the ShadowClan deputy’s voice each time she looks at the kit, but her doubts must stay within her own mind. And Rattleheart’s as well, now. She cannot allow Scorchpaw to step out of line, not if she is to remain safe and free from further scrutiny. "It’s best that you don’t make a habit of questioning our leader," she warns the apprentice, tail flicking once for emphasis. "Everything will work out. The kits will be great WindClanners, and ShadowClan won’t find out for a good while. But if they do, they will have to face us. And WindClan is not easily beaten." Every word that falls from her mouth is coated in ichor, bitter tasting and downright vile. Scorchstreak is not one to lie, or to enjoy shrouding the truth, but she must put Scorchpaw’s future above herself, mustn’t she?​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

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[SCORCHSTORM]

She watches her mother's expression change. It sends a chill down Scorchpaw's spine, flame-streaked like hers. They even bear a similar scar, now, and while Scorchpaw's cuts over her nose in clean paths, Scorchstreak's wrinkles as her eyes narrow with suspicion and disapproval. The amber gaze blazes; brands her with its intensity. The first sentence she understands, and will come to accept. WindClan had been in a dire state while they'd been up in the mountains. It makes sense that they'd grown hardier; less forgiving as a result. But it is the second sentence that stalls her.

Of course Sootstar is telling the truth. Scorchpaw's understanding precipitates into a cold, heavy stone in her stomach, pushing her insides around uncomfortably. How could Scorchstreak not see it? How could she look at Lark-kit and Ouzelkit and believe that they were anything other than Smogmaw's orphaned kits? Black lips part with her disbelief, dual-toned gaze widening, boring straight back into Scorchstreak's. Her mother looks at her with something unidentifiable seated in the creases of her face, but Scorchpaw can read between the lines: she is disappointed. Displeased with this insubordination. Her mother (and more than that: the cat she had journeyed with, the cat who loves her, the cat who would protect her from anything in the world) is no longer someone she can confide in.

It's a chilling realization. But Scorchpaw has since become used to masking her displeasure, and so the girl pulls her jaws back together, expression growing somber and distant. Scorchstreak lectures her about how the kits would be great WindClanners, about how ShadowClan would stay in the dark or face them. Scorchpaw trots silently at her side. "Understood," she murmurs, tufted tail flicking. Though her face is stony, impassive, some great beast of emotion claws at the flesh of her chest. The chill in her paws is not solely leaf-bare's doing. Scorchstreak is not safe. She isn't sure how it's possible, to have gone through everything she's gone through and still come out the other side willing to take Sootstar at face value. But her mother had told her about Dappledsun — had told her about where insubordination would lead her.

Scorchpaw will not end up like him.

𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐈 𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐆𝐄 ✧ 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝙊𝙊𝘿

• 

• 
  
  — scorchkit . scorchpaw
  — she/they ; apprentice of windclan
  — short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
  — "speech" ; thoughts
  — signature by deja, template art by ska-i
  — penned by meghan

​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

The expression on her daughter’s face shifts to something stunned for a moment, and it’s enough to place a crack in the well-guarded thing in her chest. Scorchpaw is quick to recover, though—her expression shutters once more into something accepting, something akin to what Scorchstreak sees in her own reflection. Her daughter is truly her mirror, isn’t she? The younger calico’s initial response makes her wonder whether she’s truly doing the right thing, in lying to Scorchpaw. Each untruth that she speaks drips from her maw like ichor, viscous and vile.

"I’m glad that you understand," she says. You will be safe. She will be a WindClanner, and she will not follow in her father’s pawsteps. The thought tugs at Scorchstreak’s expression, and she shifts to avoid the apprentice’s gaze. "I would hate for you to make the same mistakes as your father." Her eyes flash as she speaks, a warning tone dropping into her voice. She hasn’t spoken of Badgermoon since he’d turned his back on their family, on his kits, on his clan. Whether Sootstar told the truth of his actions or not, he is still at fault for not sticking around. He abandoned his family—Scorchpaw will not do the same, she hopes.
​

[ BE A FIRE, BURN THIS DOWN ]​

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