Claw that Bloody Sun (OPEN)

[spike]

Why did the sun have to rise? Why, why, why? She stared at it with a growl rumbling from her chest. She hated the sun. Why couldn't that moon stay longer? The white she-cat was sprawled over a banister of the loft, one of her back paws dangling off the end. It swung back and forth, back and forth. The tiny belly on her collar jingled in time with it. The rhythm of paw and bell made her in a slightly better mood. Not to mention the fact that Lark had actually settled down too.

Her subordinate had been extremely jumpy, even for himself. He kept prattling on about White. White this, White that. He said it like it was a name. But he never dared share the full details with her. He just stammered away about this White that was so nice to him. Friend White! Friend White! Bah, she was tired of it. Wynter’s dark, shadowy gray-green eyes blinked away the pain of the sun and focused then on the pacing tabby that accompanied her today. His golden pelt was slightly less marred with muck today and yet it still stood at odd ends here and there. His pale eyes were examining a bug crawling across the floor in front of him. But the way he tilted his head was hilarious and she knew it was because he was not lost in that bug but rather his mind.

”Lark,” the chief cat hissed. ”What are you doing over there? Lift your head.” The tabby did as told and blinked wildly at Wynter. She knew only two things about herself and those were: 1. She wanted to kill any Clan cat she could find that resided in RiverClan. And 2. She wanted complete control over Lark to make sure he never thought of abandoning her. Yes, she knew without Lark most of the dirty work would not succeed. He did the hunting, he did the prowling, he did everything. So it was with him in mind that she snapped so quickly at him. His mind had to be blank.



Lark made no sign of despising being yelled at for staring at a bug. In fact, his eyes regained a spark of interest because he had heard Wynter speak to him. That was rare since she only spoke to him in commands or in that sweet baby tone that convinced him to do anything. The only reason it did was because it made him feel guilty. Wynter, despite being younger than him, was like an older sibling. He did as she said and he would be rewarded. Just like a kit trying to impress his parents, he did as told and only moved to compress the bug between floor and paw. Pale eyes were blank of life and his dark pupils did not shine.

But the moment he looked up at Wynter, there was a look of complete adoration. Who wouldn’t, after all? She was his leader, his deputy, his medicine cat. She was the cat that took care of him only in return for use of his claws. She had that rotten collar around her neck anyways. How could she hunt or stalk or do any of those things with that bell? He glanced at the sun and then upwards at the dangling Wynter. She was just staring forward with little to show that she even noticed him. No surprise there. Some part of him wanted her attention though. Not like a mate wanted attention from his lover but like a kit wanted attention from his mother. He wanted her to stop thinking of these plans and tell him to do something.

Just something to keep his mind free of her. His thoughts were all wrapped around Whiteheart. Or “White” as he referred to her as. She was his whole world because she was his friend. She was the only thing that he wanted to see at any point in the day. Too bad he had no chance of seeing her. Wynter was like a hawk waiting for a mouse to leave its nesting hole. The moment he would leave, she’d be there to swoop him up in angry claws. Lark trembled at that relation and returned to what he was originally doing. He faced the sun and gave a snort under his breath. Why couldn’t he just claw that bloody sun?

[Ki]

Phoenix was on the moors again. Why was he on the moors again? He swore he wouldn't go back. Not after what she did. Then he heard her. Her laugh. Her sweet, melodic laugh. Without thinking, Phoenix yelled her name. It was lost in the wind, as was her laugh.

Phoenix quickly became aware that he was dreaming. He opened one eye, grumbling under his breath as the annoyingly bright sunshine streamed into the barn. This wasn't his permanent home, of course. Too many cats. It reminded him of the Clans. Without realizing it, his mind drifted to WindClan in particular. There was no foubt in his mind that his kits would have grown up there with their lying mother. No, no! He wouldn't think about her, not now! Phoenix turned his mind to his kits. Did any of them look like him, he wondered? They should be apprentices by now. When they went to Gatherings, did his kin in ThunderClan notice them? Did they sit there and watch them, wondering if they really resembled the cat they were thinking of? Or had ThunderClan forgotten him? Oh, well. It didn't matter to him.

Phoenix looked around the loft. He was in his usual spot on one of the banisters. Some part of him liked being high up; it reminded him of ThunderClan and its trees. Phoenix spotted a white she-cat...what was her name again? Wyn...Wynry? Wynter? Wynter, that was it! And the tom she always traveled with. Lark, wasn't it? Phoenix didn't speak to them, but he blinked at them. That was about as good of a greeting they could get.

[Mousy]

[OoC:// Hi.]



And I am not frightened of dying, any time will do, I don't mind.

Swiftstorm padded up the beaten-up old stairs in the loft, completely ignoring the white cat sprawled over the banister. He had claimed the top-left-hand-corner of the attic part of the Loft. There was an upturned bucket under which he slept, and from on top of which he kept watch. Indeed, he didn't take to kindly to other cats taking his patch. Lying on top of the bucket, sun coming in and streaming on to his fur from a window, he observed the scene from his vantage point, and saw Lark, Phoenix and a white she-cat whose name escaped him but was vaguely familiar. He hopped down from the bucket and padded down the stairs.

Why should I be frightened of dying?

Yawning, he sat down on the bottom step, and gazed up at the roof. It was a cheap, cruel kit's trick Hawktalon had played on him, he knew that much. Tailtip swinging from side to side, he looked up at the white she-cat. Suddenly, he remembered her name: Wynter. He glanced up at her, and the looked at the tabby tom beside her, Lark. He never looked too intelligent, did he? Oh well. There were cats like that.

There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime.

He cast his cold amber gaze over to Phoenix, who was now on one of the banisters. He looked relaxed, although Swiftstorm knew that, for most rogues, at least, it wasn't possible to relax. He knew he couldn't relax, and that most rogues had been pursecuted. But he was used the the Clan cats' mockery. It didn't bother him. He supposed that Wynter was as well; she had kittypet blood, she had Clan-cat blood.

If you can hear this whispering you are dying.

"Good morning, Wynter. How are you?" he asked, as politely as he could. It wasn't that he didn't respect her. He just didn't see the point of proper ettiquette. Not now that he'd left ShadowClan, at least.

[spike]

The she-cat was in her own world, dazed as she pondered many things. The voice of a comrade interrupted her blood-red mind and brought her back, sadly. She thought of glaring but saw Phoenix nearby and pondered whether or not glaring was a safe bet. She did need to speak to him, after all. Swiftstorm could babysit! The white she-cat stood and walked slowly across banister, closer to where Larky was. "I am faring well, Swiftstorm," she purred warmly. It was that warmth like the warm dripping liquid down an open wound. She leapt from where she stood on the banister and landed with silent grace near her golden tabby companion. Lark leapt up and abandoned the bug that had occupied his attention. He scooted back a few paces before standing tall, awaiting an order.

But her order went to Swiftstorm. "My dear, could you watch my Larky-poo for me? The poor fellow has been so distracted lately. Maybe you could be kind to him and take him for a small walk? My Larky baby can't be too ill or he won't hunt! I'd appreciate it greatly." She curled her tail over his muzzle and bashed her smoky green eyes up at him. Then she released the curl of her tail and jogged towards the ginger tom a short distance off.

"Phoenix," she said a bit more coldly. But she still swayed her rear and flicked her tail with a slow, provocative move. She sat beside him and leaned against his golden-ginger body, her small curves fitting against him. "Any news?" she asked. "I find that we are close to attacking. But I have heard that something is going on among the clangs. Some... drama, I suppose you could say. Do you have any word of this?" Getting anything out of a tom cat was as simple as brushing a muzzle against the other. There was no need to think about it. They were tempted by a vixen-like she-cat at any time.



That fox-hearted mongrel! That mouse-brained tom! That... that... oh, what could Lark say? He was friends with Phoenix even if the two seemed more distant than ever. It was hard to believe that Phoenix, once known as Firestorm, had actually been Lark's source of support. Lark had gone to Firestorm when they were apprentices. Larkpaw had been six moons; Firepaw had been eleven. The golden tabby had come to see Phoenix as a second mentor. So when both somehow became rogues, it was like having to be apprentices again. But it wasn't meant to be.

Lark went to Wynter, Phoenix went to Graysong. It was just natural that they separated. Phoenix seemed to have lost some part of himself though when he lost contact with Graysong. Lark had lost a lot of himself too but that didn't mean he wasn't still dire to hold ties with a former ThunderClan brethren. Wynter felt total control over Lark and introduced herself to Phoenix. Now... now she never gave him a second glance. Lark felt that Wynter was like his caretaker. She kept him under control even when he couldn't do it himself. He felt like a kit trying to please the mother. It was very hard to keep himself happy with her disappearing acts.

Facing the black-and-white tom, Lark stared quietly and waited for instructions. He was just too confused and too upset. He wanted out. He wanted to be free again and let himself go from this world. Not this world, just hte rogue life. What he wouldn't give to have Nightfur... no, Whiteheart by his side. He just wanted somebody to talk to and get these things off of his chest. But he settled for a tilt of the head towards Swiftstorm.

[Ki]

Phoenix's dull green eyes blinked at Wynter. He glanced at Lark, who had been placed under the watchful eyes of Swiftstorm. Phoenix remembered Lark very well. When he was an apprentice little Lark had looked up to him. Phoenix remembered giving advice to Lark and let the younger apprentice hang around him and his friends. No one had minded. Phoenix remained close with Lark even when he'd been given his warrior name of Firestorm. But then Phoenix had shed his name when he slipped away from the forest in the dead of night. No, then he'd heard stories of a swan with fire in its feathers, called a phoenix. He'd taken it on as his name, secretly wondering if such a creature existed. Not long after he met Graysong. Sweet, quiet, gentle Graysong.

Phoenix had seen Lark around during his moons with Graysong. He told his old friend about the quiet she-cat they had occasionally seen at Gatherings and what a sweet little thing she was. But when his mate had abandoned him some part of Phoenix had died. Now he wasn't the same, nor was Lark.

Stop thinking about the past, mouse-brain. A part of his mind snapped. The present is calling.

He was suddenly away of Wynter and her closeness. His heart picked up its pace. She was a pretty she-cat. Witty, clever. Dangerous. But oh-so-pretty. Who would it hurt if he flirted back a little bit? A low purr rose in his throat, almost like a growl. "The Clans? Puh." He now scoffed his birthplace. All his life he'd seen cats manipulate and scheme in order to survive. It was a dishonest existance. They were all liars. "Nothing that would concern you. A she-cat is giving her kits away." Ah, the no mating with cats from other Clans rule. Sometimes he wondered if anyone followed it. Not like it mattered to him anymore. Phoenix brushed his cheek against Wynter's briefly, almost in a taunting manner.

[spike]

She inwardly snarled even when she beamed on the outside. Phoenix was so close to making her howl out a mess of inappropriate curses. But she restrained herself and just made the same move she had pulled on Swiftstorm. She curled her tail around and brushed it against him slowly letting only the tip tickle his fur. A flirtatious glow entered her eyes as she stared at him with a now less happy grin.

"Your words are not exactly what I was looking for," she grumbled. "I am fully concerned about the clans. Why, my uncle is a Clan cat himself. Come on now, Phoenix. Don't hurt me so." She stood and practically wrapped her body around his, tail carassing his maw and brushing his whiskers. "I need more news. Anything in the clans? No diseases or serious deaths?"

[Ki]

"Disease and death...not that I know of." Phoenix purred. He blinked at her again as she wrapped around him. "There will be war soon, I suspect." He knew ShadowClan was enormous in size. Meanwhile ThunderClan stayed small and weak. Soon ShadowClan would lash out to take the territory. Some part of him resented ShadowClan for this. After all, his baby brother still lived in ThunderClan. Maybe even his great aunt was still alive. He didn't want a petty territory war to cost them their lives. It wasn't right. But at least his kits would be safe. (Graysong could get her throat cut for all he cared.) He nudged Wynter again, purring slightly louder.

"ShadowClan will be attacking ThunderClan soon, I'll bet. If they don't I'd be surprised."

[spike]

Her eyes lit up again at the mention of an attack. She growled under her breath and her tail curled with excitement. ”An attack, you say? Why, this is perfect, Phoenix! I mean, this is perfect! ShadowClan attacking ThunderClan! What a great opportunity! We could slip into the attack when they are fighting and make our mark in the attack.” She curled herself around him and placed one of her dainty white paws on his shoulder. Sharp claws slowly emerged and clung to his pelt, pulling him only closer to her. She did not pierce his flesh but did enough so to let him know she was here to require his attention.

”But maybe I’m being a bit greedy,” she mused. ”Maybe we need some time off from our plans, Phoenix. I’ve heard good word on the clans. Enough drama happens among their own kind that we won’t need to interfere quite yet.” She slid off of him like a leaf down a river. She wandered a small distance off, eyes examining a piece of the roof that seemed to have caught her attention. Her rear swayed back and forth before she halted a tail-length away from him. ”Good Phoenix,” Wynter purred, ”I have been thinking to myself recently. Thinking of those dreaded clans and the ideas we’ve pondered among ourselves these past moons. Larky poo and I stand no chance against them. Why, our forces are so dreadfully small! What shall we do? Your mind is swelling with fine ideas, is it not? Pray tell, how must we survive when our forces cannot even keep us alive if we dared gather together?”

[Ki]

Phoenix had realized this problem moons ago, when they'd first discussed this. But no cats he knew seemed to be willing to rise up against the Clans. The Clans were many in number. Not only that, but Phoenix knew firsthand how angry and territorial they became. When he was an apprentice he'd watched his mentor, a usually quiet and gentle she-cat, practically maul a loner that had been hunting on their territory. No one wanted to steal prey from the Clans. Even in plentiful times like these when there was usually a good amount of prey to go around. Perhaps if Phoenix was a persuasive speaker he could convince many to join their ranks. But he wasn't. He was just....him. A forgettable tom that roamed through the forest as if he didn't care if he lost his tail to the Clan cats or not.

But perhaps Wynter could. "We could try to convince cats. I'm sure there are many that are tired of being cheated off a meal just because the prey ran across into the territories." His tail lashed at the air. Graysong's image burned fresh in his mind. One gray paw touching the ground as she ran, the wind ruffling her short ashen fur...

What did his kits look like, he wondered? Did his aunt recognize them when they went to Gatherings...?

[spike]

Wynter listened to him and mentally pointed out each flaw to that plan. Too bad it just didn't stay within her mind, however. She sat down and patiently cleaned her paws as he finished his miniscule explanation. Once done, she hesitated another second to finish her job before setting it down silently. "Phoenix, I believe that would work but the moment one starts rebellion, they'll all follow suit. They're followers and we don't need that. We need warriors like the clans have but at the same time very much ours to control. Followers with a passion like ours."

She hummed a moment in thought and narrowed her eyes on the ground again. There was a bug similar to the one that had Lark's attention earlier. It scrambled over the soft creases in the wood as if it was going to find a way down but the cracks did not go that far. But what it did manage to do was find a few other of its fellow bug friends. The group came close together and headed off as a sort of pack... together. Then the idea struck. She lifted her head sharply to stare at Phoenix with a calculating look. Was it worth it? Was it possible? Would he even agree? Dumb tom already mentioned having Clan family before. Did his loyalty stay true to the one he claimed had left him or to her, the one that took him in with deadly claws?

"Be open with me here," she purred as the idea slowly but surely morphed into words. "We need followers, ones that will not question a word we say. No rebellion can be sparked among them and the only thing I know that has never wavered is the relationship of kinfolk. But my family is dead, minus my uncle which I would prefer he be dead. You have family among the clans but I am not exactly counting on them either. But maybe... maybe we can make our own warriors. It's a long plan, one that might takes many moons to accomplish, but it shall work, I guarantee it."

Now the white she-cat was rattling off her plan like tomorrow was working its way too fast onto them. She was on her paws, closing in on Phoenix to block any way of distractions getting to him. She wanted his full attention on her. "You and I both wish the clans to be dead for what they have done to us and maybe if we raised little warriors of our own, we could properly take them down. What I am saying is that you father kits and we raise them as dangerous killers, the ones we want and need. It sounds like a lot but we need to put our plans first, Phoenix. What do you say? Father... my kits and raise our kits in our pawsteps?"

[Ki]

Father her kits?

Father her kits?!

Phoenix stared at Wynter long and hard, just to make sure she was being serious. Once he figured that she was, indeed, being serious, he actually began to consider it. One of the reasons Phoenix had left ThunderClan was because he wanted a family. Something he could not aquire in ThunderClan, with it's few she-cats. He thought that he had accomplished the goal of being a father with Graysong. But Phoenix had no idea what his kits' names were, what genders they were, how many of them were still alive...they didn't even know who he was. Or that he was their father. It was as if he wasn't even a father at all.

Here was his chance.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the plan. Not only would this help in his revenge against the Clans, he could finally be a father. It was a strange, morphed opportunity. And it wasn't exactly the type of family you would hear about in tales for kits. About a tom and she-cat falling in love and starting a family. But he wasn't a typical tom. Wynter wasn't a typical she-cat.

And these kits would not be typical kits.

"Wynter, my dear, you are a genius!" Phoenix purred.

[spike]

There was a smirk that crossed her face as she curled her tail around his muzzle affectionately. "Thank you," she answered with a strong purr. "Our kits shall be the only thing the clans ever remember. They'll know them as the killers of hte clans."

-fade out-

(Discovery Channel Song)

-fade in-

Wynter cleaned her chest fur quietly and glanced over at the tom that was now her mate. Well, it was a try. She did not say a word until she was sure the little hair that had sprung up was securely down. "Well, Phoenix, in good time we shall see our kits to thei rway. In the mean time, I say we begin settling our place in this loft." The white she-cat stood and examined the loft as if seeing it for the first time.

"If this worked, we'll have only two moons until I will be unable to work completely. So, until then, we need to work quickly." She turned towards her now-mate and seemed to have gone from sweet and loving to serious once again. Phoenix would learn very quickly the truth to Wynter.

[Ki]

Phoenix did not speak so long as Wynter did not speak. He, instead, groomed himself. It was the first time he'd mated with a cat since Graysong. Like last time, he wondered what the kits would be like. Who would they take after? Him? Wynter? Both of them? Would they all survive? Phoenix wondered when they would begin training them. The traditional age, one he would prefer to stick with, was six moons. It was the only age where kits were finally strong enough to take training. But how early would Wynter want to start training them? And what would they train them? Phoenix planned on teaching them the ways of the warrior. But instead of teaching to stun and send running, he would teach them how to kill. What to go for if you want to make a kill. Then there were things like hunting...What would Wynter teach them?

His ears went up as Wynter spoke. Yes, their time was limited. Probably even shorter than that. Pregnant she-cats often had difficulty doing things in the last half moon. His father's second mate had, at least. And she only had one kit! "What should we do first?"