Post by Sydney on Mar 5, 2010 4:41:20 GMT -6
OOC ;;;[/i] Okay, this story takes place years and years after the clans have settled in the Lake Territory. Now, the stories of Tigerstar and Firestar are merely legends for kits.
Not that their are any kits, really.
All these cats are of my own creation and, really, their personalities kinda get created/develope as the story goes on. Any feedback, critique, whatever is appreciated!
I have the allegiances by the way, that tells you the names of the surviving cats.
Handy dandy lake territory map, for your and my convenience.[/size]
WINDCLAN
CLOUDPAW---longfurred pale gray tom with green eyes. [APPRENTICE]
CROWKIT---black she-cat with a white chest and kit-blue eyes. [KIT]
RAVENKIT---black tom with still kit-blue eyes. [KIT]
SHADOWCLAN
RABBITFOOT---pale brown tabby tom with amber eyes. [MED. CAT]
TIGERFANG---dark brown tabby tom with green eyes. [WARRIOR]
BRINDLESTRIPE---pale ginger tabby she-cat with soft yellow eyes. [WARRIOR]
SNOWFLOWER---pretty white she-cat covered in gray dapples with blue eyes. [QUEEN]
RIVERCLAN
STREAMTAIL---silver tabby she-cat with blue eyes. [WARRIOR]
FERNPAW---light brown and white tabby she-cat with hazel eyes. [APPRENTICE]
THUNDERCLAN
SANDPAW--- dusty brown tom with bright golden eyes. [APPRENTICE]
Many, many moons ago the four clans ruled the forest. The proud Shadowclan, the clever Riverclan, the loyal Windclan, and of course, the courageous Thunderclan. But above all, the wise Starclan ruled above them, cats of the past who continued to watch their fellow cats long after their own deaths. For a while, all the clans lived in peace. There were no border skirmish, no battles, and no terrible disasters.
But as you all know, peace, does not last forever and one day, one day Starclan just upped and vanished. The medicine cats received no dreams, there were no signs, it just seemed as the clans' ancient ancestors just upped and left. It seemed that the clans had just been abandoned.
The clans were distraught, they just didn't know why their ancestors would leave them, why would they abandon them like this. As time went by clans began to fight one another, questing for power and all of the forest, angry that Starclan had left them. Slowly the clans began to change, forgetting about their ancestors and the warrior code, save for a select few. The worst out off the clans would have had to been Thunderclan, the one peaceful and brave Clan was now a hollow shell of its former self, the cats coming from the Clan were now all power hungry and bloodthirsty. It was within Thunderclan that a cat rose up to power, Redstorm angry and power hungry began to tear the forest up from the inside, destroying the forest with a mighty force. Pitting kin against kin, Clan against Clan, and mother against kit, until there were barely any cats left.
Ten cats, cats that still had faith in Starclan, watched as the forest cats destroyed each other, unable to do anything to save their fellow cats. One day, a huge battle came about, whatever cats that were still alive fought each other for the remaining of the territory that hadn't withered away during Greenleaf (a horrible drought had struck that year) during this battle Redstorm, the cat who had started this terrible war, perished but, so did anyone else who fought in the battle.
In this battle, there were no survivors.
Luckily, the ten cats who still had faith had hidden away, they knew the battle was coming and were tired of fighting, tired of all the bloodshed. They were lucky to hide for, unlike their fellow forest dwellers, they survived.
They're the last of the clans.
Now, they must band together if they want to survive for the clouds predict that a horrible leafbare is fast approaching and they won't survive if they stay in the dead, wasteland of a forest. Not even the prey will stay in the forest anymore for, there is no food for them either.
To stay here, in the forest, would lead to most certain death.
How long ago had this all started?
How long ago had Starclan stopped communicating with them, separating themselves from the living cats?
It seemed far too long, if you asked Cloudpaw. He had been three moons old when it began and now, now how old was he?
Twelve moons?
Thirteen moons?
He couldn't remember.
When his mother had perished, fighting his father in a battle that had started up amongst Windclan cats, Cloudpaw had stopped caring to remember petty things like his age or the names of other cats. In his mind, all that had mattered then was his mother and now, all that mattered was saving the two tiny kits that had survived Greenleaf and believed in Starclan with all their might. That was all that mattered to the tom now. Cloudpaw had lost nearly all his hope in Starclan but, the two little kits brought forth a new strand of hope in Starclan and survival he had never felt before. These kits made him think, perhaps not all in the world was bad and, perhaps he and they could truly survive. That was why he had hidden the two kits away within an abandoned fox den when the news of a battle reached the ears of the few remaining Windclan cats (if they could be called that, all the other cats had acted nothing like a true warrior) and said cats began to make plans for the battle. For a moment, the tom had considered joining in with the fight but, had decided against it, he didn't want to chance leaving the only kits he knew of in the forest to fend for themselves.
That had been at Sunhigh, a sunrise ago, he had scurried off to hide with the kits when his fellow forest dwellers had set off to fight at Sunset and from his hideaway, he could hear the battle as it lasted long into the night.
But now, now it seemed that the battle had ended, the screams of his fellow cats had long since faded to nothing and as the sun began to rise into the sky, the tom decided it was time to come out of hiding and see who had staggered back to the camp.
Ears pressed against his head, the longhaired tom crawled out from the old den, his belly pressed to the dirt as he left, his senses all still on alert for cats that would attack. Surprisingly, as all of his body left the fox den, he was not attacked and he was not called for. There were no cries of joy, no murmurs of disappointment and anger, and no moans of pain from the injured. The hills of Windclan were silent as was the wind. Slowly, the tom's ears perked up, twitching as he tried to hear a sound, any sound at all.
He heard nothing.
As worry (and dread) began to settle over him, the apprentice glanced back at the fox den, where the two kits were fast asleep. They would be alright if he left, just for a moment. Padding forward, the apprentice made his way towards the Windclan camp, terror overcoming his pale gray body as he noticed there was no one in sight.
Had they all perished in the battle?
Wide eyed, the green eyed tom raced off, telling himself the two kits would be okay if he went to check. Slowly, he made his way towards the Island, where he had been told the battle would be. The battle for the island and the last remaining water in the lake.
As he neared the island though, his senses were flooded with the smell of fresh blood and the small apprentice began to panic.
Silently, he prayed to Starclan he was wrong and that his clanmates weren't all dead. His pace quickened and his mind barely registered what he was doing as he rushed across the log to the island, all fear of being attacked now gone. His trek halted at the end of the log however, as the tom's eyes swept over the island, panic settling in his stomach as his eyes widened.
“Dear Starclan, it's a massacre.”
And that it was.
The scene was horrible, disgustingly so.
Limp bodies were strewn everywhere, some eyes open, some not. Most cats had their mouth open, as if stuck in an eternal scream. Blood was just about everywhere, most likely from a poor cat that got ripped to pieces. Not only that but, when Cloudpaw strained to look, he could see some more limp cats in the lake, laying on the dry sand, since Greenleaf had come and dried up most of the water in the forest. Holding back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, the gray tom turned to leave his tail dragging on the ground. There was no way anyone had survived that massacre, there was no way in Starclan someone would have been able to survive.
All of his Clan was gone, dead dead dead.
It was just him and the kits now.
Jumping off the log onto Riverclan territory, the apprentice took one glance back at the island, swallowing back the vile that rose up in his throat as he did so. There would be no burial for the cats, there were too many dead for a proper burial. He'd have to let it go to dust and let the birds that still scavenged the area take care of the bodies for him.
There were the kits to take care of, and he couldn't leave them for long.
Ravenkit and Crowkit were adventurous, they would wander out soon.
And, he couldn't let them see this...
No, he couldn't let them see this massacre.
No one should ever have to witness something like this.
Taking in a deep breath, the little tom scurried away, leaving the carnage behind him.
But, he needed to search for survivors now.
Not everyone could be dead.
No, no...
There had to be someone alive somewhere.
***
It was as he had expected, Riverclan was in just as bad shape as Windclan had been. The ground had long since dried up, the stream and rivers no longer breathed with fresh, flowing water.
There was nothing.
Ears pulled back, the little tom glanced around warily, his breath soft and shaky.
No one had survived from Riverclan either, had they?
“Hello?”, once upon a time, a Windclan cat would have never been scurrying around Riverclan but now, now times were different.
Everything was different.
“Is anyone here...?”
There was no answer.
Cloudpaw never really did expect one, anyway.
Staring sadly into the distance, the gray tom pulled his body away from the dusty ground, dead grass crinkling at his paws as he turned away.
And suddenly, a voice rang out throughout the sparse forest, a terrified, anguished filled voice.
And that was all Cloudpaw needed to hear. Ears pricked forward, the little apprentice took off towards where the scream had come from. There was someone out there, there was still hope.
“No no no! Get up, GET UP! Beechclaw, get up!”
Unfortunately, the scene he stumbled upon couldn't really be called “hopeful”. There, standing in what Cloudpaw could only surmise was the Riverclan camp, stood a silver tabby, a she-cat apprentice, and, the body of a lanky looking tom. The silver tabby was wailing loudly, burying her face into the dead's tom fur, as if crying and praying loud enough would bring him back.
“Streamtail, leave him be! Crying won't bring anyone back.” The little apprentice approached the she-cat angrily, pushing her away with her nose. “Beechclaw is dead, accept it, move on.” The silver tabby wailed sadly as the apprentice pushed her away, sobbing into her fur. “We were going to have kits, he promised! He promised!” Sobbing loudly, the silver tabby shut her eyes tightly, wailing to the sky.
“It wouldn't have been wise to bring kits into the world at this state, anyway.” The tabby merely wailed louder at the apprentice's words.
Watching the two for a moment, Cloudpaw slipped out from his hiding spot, determining that they were harmless. “I'm sorry,” he mewed after a moment, causing both she-cats to look up and bring their attention onto him.
“He looked like a brave warrior.”
The silver tabby nodded sadly, letting out a sob, “He was.”
The apprentice stared oddly at the tom for a moment, before visibly loosening up. “I didn't think their were any other survivors, the island... it was..”
“Horrible,” Cloudpaw finished for her. “It was a massacre, it's horrible.”
The apprentice nodded, “are there any... others?” Cloudpaw tensed at this question, before nodding. “I saved two kits but... besides them-” The silver tabby suddenly perked up at this knowledge, sniffing sadly before turning to the gray apprentice.
“Kits? I didn't think there were any kits left...”
The apprentice ignored the older cat for a moment, her ears pinning back as she stared at Cloudpaw. “I'm Fernpaw and this,” she gestured with her tail towards the tabby, “is Streamtail.” Cloudpaw stared oddly at the cats for a moment, his mind wracking his brain in an attempt to figure out why she was staring expectantly at him.
“Oh...” He paused. “Oh! I'm Cloudpaw.” He stood and turned as he spoke this, his long fluffy tail billowing behind him. “And, I need to return to the kits... They can't see the massacre that happened last night.” Fernpaw trailed after him, glad to have found someone else alive.
“But, but.. what about Beechclaw? He needs to buried!”
Eying Streamtail, Cloudpaw drew in a shaky sigh.
“Sometimes, it's best to let it go to dust.”
He quickened his pace after this, green eyes clouded over with a pain that neither of his two companions could see.
Yes, sometimes it was merely best to leave it to dust.
Not that their are any kits, really.
All these cats are of my own creation and, really, their personalities kinda get created/develope as the story goes on. Any feedback, critique, whatever is appreciated!
I have the allegiances by the way, that tells you the names of the surviving cats.Handy dandy lake territory map, for your and my convenience.[/size]
ALLEGIANCES
WINDCLAN
CLOUDPAW---longfurred pale gray tom with green eyes. [APPRENTICE]
CROWKIT---black she-cat with a white chest and kit-blue eyes. [KIT]
RAVENKIT---black tom with still kit-blue eyes. [KIT]
SHADOWCLAN
RABBITFOOT---pale brown tabby tom with amber eyes. [MED. CAT]
TIGERFANG---dark brown tabby tom with green eyes. [WARRIOR]
BRINDLESTRIPE---pale ginger tabby she-cat with soft yellow eyes. [WARRIOR]
SNOWFLOWER---pretty white she-cat covered in gray dapples with blue eyes. [QUEEN]
RIVERCLAN
STREAMTAIL---silver tabby she-cat with blue eyes. [WARRIOR]
FERNPAW---light brown and white tabby she-cat with hazel eyes. [APPRENTICE]
THUNDERCLAN
SANDPAW--- dusty brown tom with bright golden eyes. [APPRENTICE]
PROLOGUE
Many, many moons ago the four clans ruled the forest. The proud Shadowclan, the clever Riverclan, the loyal Windclan, and of course, the courageous Thunderclan. But above all, the wise Starclan ruled above them, cats of the past who continued to watch their fellow cats long after their own deaths. For a while, all the clans lived in peace. There were no border skirmish, no battles, and no terrible disasters.
But as you all know, peace, does not last forever and one day, one day Starclan just upped and vanished. The medicine cats received no dreams, there were no signs, it just seemed as the clans' ancient ancestors just upped and left. It seemed that the clans had just been abandoned.
The clans were distraught, they just didn't know why their ancestors would leave them, why would they abandon them like this. As time went by clans began to fight one another, questing for power and all of the forest, angry that Starclan had left them. Slowly the clans began to change, forgetting about their ancestors and the warrior code, save for a select few. The worst out off the clans would have had to been Thunderclan, the one peaceful and brave Clan was now a hollow shell of its former self, the cats coming from the Clan were now all power hungry and bloodthirsty. It was within Thunderclan that a cat rose up to power, Redstorm angry and power hungry began to tear the forest up from the inside, destroying the forest with a mighty force. Pitting kin against kin, Clan against Clan, and mother against kit, until there were barely any cats left.
Ten cats, cats that still had faith in Starclan, watched as the forest cats destroyed each other, unable to do anything to save their fellow cats. One day, a huge battle came about, whatever cats that were still alive fought each other for the remaining of the territory that hadn't withered away during Greenleaf (a horrible drought had struck that year) during this battle Redstorm, the cat who had started this terrible war, perished but, so did anyone else who fought in the battle.
In this battle, there were no survivors.
Luckily, the ten cats who still had faith had hidden away, they knew the battle was coming and were tired of fighting, tired of all the bloodshed. They were lucky to hide for, unlike their fellow forest dwellers, they survived.
They're the last of the clans.
Now, they must band together if they want to survive for the clouds predict that a horrible leafbare is fast approaching and they won't survive if they stay in the dead, wasteland of a forest. Not even the prey will stay in the forest anymore for, there is no food for them either.
To stay here, in the forest, would lead to most certain death.
CHAPTER ONE
How long ago had this all started?
How long ago had Starclan stopped communicating with them, separating themselves from the living cats?
It seemed far too long, if you asked Cloudpaw. He had been three moons old when it began and now, now how old was he?
Twelve moons?
Thirteen moons?
He couldn't remember.
When his mother had perished, fighting his father in a battle that had started up amongst Windclan cats, Cloudpaw had stopped caring to remember petty things like his age or the names of other cats. In his mind, all that had mattered then was his mother and now, all that mattered was saving the two tiny kits that had survived Greenleaf and believed in Starclan with all their might. That was all that mattered to the tom now. Cloudpaw had lost nearly all his hope in Starclan but, the two little kits brought forth a new strand of hope in Starclan and survival he had never felt before. These kits made him think, perhaps not all in the world was bad and, perhaps he and they could truly survive. That was why he had hidden the two kits away within an abandoned fox den when the news of a battle reached the ears of the few remaining Windclan cats (if they could be called that, all the other cats had acted nothing like a true warrior) and said cats began to make plans for the battle. For a moment, the tom had considered joining in with the fight but, had decided against it, he didn't want to chance leaving the only kits he knew of in the forest to fend for themselves.
That had been at Sunhigh, a sunrise ago, he had scurried off to hide with the kits when his fellow forest dwellers had set off to fight at Sunset and from his hideaway, he could hear the battle as it lasted long into the night.
But now, now it seemed that the battle had ended, the screams of his fellow cats had long since faded to nothing and as the sun began to rise into the sky, the tom decided it was time to come out of hiding and see who had staggered back to the camp.
Ears pressed against his head, the longhaired tom crawled out from the old den, his belly pressed to the dirt as he left, his senses all still on alert for cats that would attack. Surprisingly, as all of his body left the fox den, he was not attacked and he was not called for. There were no cries of joy, no murmurs of disappointment and anger, and no moans of pain from the injured. The hills of Windclan were silent as was the wind. Slowly, the tom's ears perked up, twitching as he tried to hear a sound, any sound at all.
He heard nothing.
As worry (and dread) began to settle over him, the apprentice glanced back at the fox den, where the two kits were fast asleep. They would be alright if he left, just for a moment. Padding forward, the apprentice made his way towards the Windclan camp, terror overcoming his pale gray body as he noticed there was no one in sight.
Had they all perished in the battle?
Wide eyed, the green eyed tom raced off, telling himself the two kits would be okay if he went to check. Slowly, he made his way towards the Island, where he had been told the battle would be. The battle for the island and the last remaining water in the lake.
As he neared the island though, his senses were flooded with the smell of fresh blood and the small apprentice began to panic.
Silently, he prayed to Starclan he was wrong and that his clanmates weren't all dead. His pace quickened and his mind barely registered what he was doing as he rushed across the log to the island, all fear of being attacked now gone. His trek halted at the end of the log however, as the tom's eyes swept over the island, panic settling in his stomach as his eyes widened.
“Dear Starclan, it's a massacre.”
And that it was.
The scene was horrible, disgustingly so.
Limp bodies were strewn everywhere, some eyes open, some not. Most cats had their mouth open, as if stuck in an eternal scream. Blood was just about everywhere, most likely from a poor cat that got ripped to pieces. Not only that but, when Cloudpaw strained to look, he could see some more limp cats in the lake, laying on the dry sand, since Greenleaf had come and dried up most of the water in the forest. Holding back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, the gray tom turned to leave his tail dragging on the ground. There was no way anyone had survived that massacre, there was no way in Starclan someone would have been able to survive.
All of his Clan was gone, dead dead dead.
It was just him and the kits now.
Jumping off the log onto Riverclan territory, the apprentice took one glance back at the island, swallowing back the vile that rose up in his throat as he did so. There would be no burial for the cats, there were too many dead for a proper burial. He'd have to let it go to dust and let the birds that still scavenged the area take care of the bodies for him.
There were the kits to take care of, and he couldn't leave them for long.
Ravenkit and Crowkit were adventurous, they would wander out soon.
And, he couldn't let them see this...
No, he couldn't let them see this massacre.
No one should ever have to witness something like this.
Taking in a deep breath, the little tom scurried away, leaving the carnage behind him.
But, he needed to search for survivors now.
Not everyone could be dead.
No, no...
There had to be someone alive somewhere.
***
It was as he had expected, Riverclan was in just as bad shape as Windclan had been. The ground had long since dried up, the stream and rivers no longer breathed with fresh, flowing water.
There was nothing.
Ears pulled back, the little tom glanced around warily, his breath soft and shaky.
No one had survived from Riverclan either, had they?
“Hello?”, once upon a time, a Windclan cat would have never been scurrying around Riverclan but now, now times were different.
Everything was different.
“Is anyone here...?”
There was no answer.
Cloudpaw never really did expect one, anyway.
Staring sadly into the distance, the gray tom pulled his body away from the dusty ground, dead grass crinkling at his paws as he turned away.
And suddenly, a voice rang out throughout the sparse forest, a terrified, anguished filled voice.
And that was all Cloudpaw needed to hear. Ears pricked forward, the little apprentice took off towards where the scream had come from. There was someone out there, there was still hope.
“No no no! Get up, GET UP! Beechclaw, get up!”
Unfortunately, the scene he stumbled upon couldn't really be called “hopeful”. There, standing in what Cloudpaw could only surmise was the Riverclan camp, stood a silver tabby, a she-cat apprentice, and, the body of a lanky looking tom. The silver tabby was wailing loudly, burying her face into the dead's tom fur, as if crying and praying loud enough would bring him back.
“Streamtail, leave him be! Crying won't bring anyone back.” The little apprentice approached the she-cat angrily, pushing her away with her nose. “Beechclaw is dead, accept it, move on.” The silver tabby wailed sadly as the apprentice pushed her away, sobbing into her fur. “We were going to have kits, he promised! He promised!” Sobbing loudly, the silver tabby shut her eyes tightly, wailing to the sky.
“It wouldn't have been wise to bring kits into the world at this state, anyway.” The tabby merely wailed louder at the apprentice's words.
Watching the two for a moment, Cloudpaw slipped out from his hiding spot, determining that they were harmless. “I'm sorry,” he mewed after a moment, causing both she-cats to look up and bring their attention onto him.
“He looked like a brave warrior.”
The silver tabby nodded sadly, letting out a sob, “He was.”
The apprentice stared oddly at the tom for a moment, before visibly loosening up. “I didn't think their were any other survivors, the island... it was..”
“Horrible,” Cloudpaw finished for her. “It was a massacre, it's horrible.”
The apprentice nodded, “are there any... others?” Cloudpaw tensed at this question, before nodding. “I saved two kits but... besides them-” The silver tabby suddenly perked up at this knowledge, sniffing sadly before turning to the gray apprentice.
“Kits? I didn't think there were any kits left...”
The apprentice ignored the older cat for a moment, her ears pinning back as she stared at Cloudpaw. “I'm Fernpaw and this,” she gestured with her tail towards the tabby, “is Streamtail.” Cloudpaw stared oddly at the cats for a moment, his mind wracking his brain in an attempt to figure out why she was staring expectantly at him.
“Oh...” He paused. “Oh! I'm Cloudpaw.” He stood and turned as he spoke this, his long fluffy tail billowing behind him. “And, I need to return to the kits... They can't see the massacre that happened last night.” Fernpaw trailed after him, glad to have found someone else alive.
“But, but.. what about Beechclaw? He needs to buried!”
Eying Streamtail, Cloudpaw drew in a shaky sigh.
“Sometimes, it's best to let it go to dust.”
He quickened his pace after this, green eyes clouded over with a pain that neither of his two companions could see.
Yes, sometimes it was merely best to leave it to dust.
