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redux-iterum · 2 days

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Charred Legacy: Chapter Four

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Fireheart didn’t have much time to mull over Whitecloud’s words; the next evening, before anyone had a chance to leave camp, Bluestar walked in and silently jumped onto the meeting stump, sitting down and waiting for everyone to notice her and circle around.

“What do you think’s up?” Greystripe whispered to Fireheart as he and Ravenwing joined him.

Fireheart just tilted his head in acknowledgement. “We’ll see in a moment.”

“The time’s come,” Bluestar called when everyone was close, “for Frostfur’s kits to become apprentices.”

Surprised chatter bounced through the crowd. When Fireheart glanced at Frostfur's way, she was slightly frowning and muttering to herself, “I could’ve sworn we had another half-month to go…”

Sitting close by, Speckletail too had a look of confusion and—if Fireheart wasn’t mistaken—slight frustration. Fireheart didn’t get a chance to ask her about it before the buzz settled down and Bluestar called, “Kits, come forward.”

Fireheart was nearly pushed over by Brightkit as she led Snowkit up to the front of the crowd, which was in the process of backing up to give the litter space. Thornkit and Brackenkit soon followed, and the kits began shuffling around to stand in a line (as, of course, ordered by Thornkit).

“Bit disorganized,” Teaselfoot murmured to Mousefur beside him. “Did she not tell them what to do?”

“Huh,” was all Mousefur said. She had the air of mild disappointment. “I was hoping she’d talk to me about mentoring. I guess she’s already got her list settled.”

Speckletail’s eyes narrowed just a fraction and she looked Mousefur’s way. “She didn’t talk to me, either. I think—”

“Thornkit, step forward,” Bluestar said loudly, cutting her deputy off.

The brisk little tom marched a few steps closer, standing with his chest puffed out.

Bluestar leaned down a bit to talk to him. “Are you ready to train to serve your Clan, and care for your Clanmates the way they have cared for you?”

Thornkit gave one firm nod. “Am. I am.”

“Then with StarClan’s blessing, I name you Thornpaw.” Bluestar’s eyes flicked to one side of the crowd. “Your mentor will be Dustpelt. I entrust him to teach you diligence and honor, and pass down everything he knows.”

Dustpelt blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly and trotted into the empty ring, meeting with Thornpaw, who looked a little lost. Bluestar definitely hadn’t told him what to do the way she had told Fireheart when he received his own name. Dustpelt saved it by whispering something to Thornpaw. Quickly, the two touched noses and Thornpaw nodded respectfully to his new mentor before following him back to the edge of the crowd, where they stood together, the little tom’s eyes wide and sparkling.

“Brackenkit, step forward,” Bluestar said now, and was quickly and eagerly obeyed. “Are you ready to train to serve your Clan, and care for your Clanmates the way they have cared for you?”

“I am!” Brackenkit shouted, earning a few titters.

Bluestar nodded once, not looking particularly amused herself. “Then with StarClan’s blessing, I name you Brackenpaw. Your mentor will be Willowpelt. I entrust her to teach you focus and clear-headedness, and pass down everything she knows.”

Again, the new mentor had a look of surprise, and again she took it in stride and went to meet her apprentice. Brackenpaw’s tail flailed about in excitement and he almost banged his nose into Willowpelt’s, just barely catching himself in time.

“Call their names,” Bluestar said to the crowd as the pair moved away. “Welcome Thornpaw and Brackenpaw to apprenticeship.”

The Clan immediately cheered, “Thornpaw! Brackenpaw! Thornpaw! Brackenpaw!”

The brothers, standing next to each other, shared a glance, and in that glance was the very same overwhelming wash of joy Fireheart had felt when he’d first come to the Clan, and again when he’d been named a warrior. Granted, Thornpaw looked a little more stoic, but the happiness was palpable.

“Brightkit,” Bluestar said when the cheering was done.

Brightkit did not walk forward so much as bounce, and when she remembered to stop, she was vibrating with glee.

“Are you also ready to train to serve your Clan, and care for your Clanmates the way they have cared for you?”

Brightkit bounced on her pads. “I am! I am!”

“Then with StarClan’s blessing, I name you Brightpaw. Your me—”

Brightpaw poorly contained a squeal of joy that came out as an energetic whine. Again, the crowd rippled with amusement, and she ducked her head. “Sorry.”

Bluestar, to her credit, did not scold her—in fact, she didn’t react at all, simply continuing with the script. “Your mentor will be Mousefur.”

Fireheart immediately turned his head to the dusky molly. She straightened up, eyes wide and ears perked in delight.

“I entrust her to teach you wit and tranquility, and pass down everything she knows.”

Mousefur quickly wove around the cats in front of her and went to meet her apprentice. Both of their faces shone with joy, and Brightpaw whispered something that Mousefur snorted at before she led the apprentice to the edge of the crowd.

“Now, Snowkit,” Bluestar continued, and at this the crowd went dead quiet. She made eye contact with the little white tom and beckoned him to walk forward with her tail, which he did. She returned her attention to the rest of ThunderClan. “Snowkit is a special case. He cannot hear the oath he’ll take to become an apprentice, and he will require a mentor that can learn to communicate with him, and teach him to communicate better with all of us, and us with him in turn. Therefore, we will do this oath a little differently.”

Her eyes roamed over the gathered cats… and they landed on Ravenwing. The black tom suddenly stiffened.

“Ravenwing, join Snowkit,” she said.

Ravenwing didn’t move, but his tail immediately started shaking. “Wh– um– …Why?”

Bluestar narrowed her eyes. “Because you are going to be his mentor.”

The shaking swept over every hair on Ravenwing’s body. Fireheart watched in shock (as did everyone else) as Ravenwing gasped and trembled even harder, until it looked like his unsteady legs were about to buckle.

He barely managed to find his voice. “I– no, Bluestar, I ca– I c—”

“Come forward and meet your apprentice,” Bluestar snapped.

Speckletail stood up, looking between the panicking Ravenwing and the annoyed leader. “Bluestar, did you talk with him about this?”

Bluestar ignored her, simply glaring at Ravenwing like a rabbit still in its burrow.

The poor tom was visibly fighting to control his terror, but he still shivered and breathed shallow breaths. His eyes stared ahead, unfocused.

Fireheart, sitting next to him, eased his side on Ravenwing’s. Greystripe scooted closer and mirrored the gesture, nearly drowning the oddly scrawny tom in his warmth. When Ravenwing’s head snapped between them, Fireheart gave him as encouraging of a nod and a blink as he could, and Greystripe whispered, “You got this, bud. We’re right here.”

Ravenwing gulped down another chestful of air, screwed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and then barely managed a nod back. Despite his shaky legs, he stood and shuffled past Willowpelt and Brackenpaw. Fireheart tried to mentally send his support to the skinny warrior as he stood by Snowkit. The kit looked up at him, his excitement fading a little to concern.

“Though you can’t hear me,” Bluestar said to Snowkit, “I know you will agree to what your littermates agreed to: training to serve your Clan, and caring for them as they have cared for you. Therefore, I name you Snowpaw, and your mentor will be Ravenwing.” She now looked to the warrior in question. “Ravenwing, I entrust you to teach him wisdom and carefulness, and pass down everything you know to him.”

Ravenwing, fighting to breathe normally, turned to Snowpaw, and with a quaking paw gently nudged him to stand. Snowpaw did so, his pretty blue eyes shining again. At the eye contact, something in Ravenwing settled just a little, and he managed to lessen his shaking enough to touch his nose to Snowpaw’s. The apprentice straightened up and beamed, giving his mentor a nod like his siblings had done to theirs.

“Welcome, Brightpaw and Snowpaw, to apprenticeship,” Bluestar said, not waiting for the pair to move.

Again, cheers. “Brightpaw! Snowpaw! Brightpaw! Snowpaw!”

Snowpaw didn’t acknowledge the cheering, but he did bump his head against Ravenwing’s shoulder, purring quietly. Ravenwing nervously blinked at him when he pulled his head back.

The crowd dispersed, chatting among themselves or congratulating the apprentices on their ceremony. Fireheart tapped Greystripe with his tail and led him over to Ravenwing and Snowpaw.

“She– she didn’t tell me,” Ravenwing stammered out to his friends. “I just– I could’ve told her– I can’t mentor, I’m not—”

“None of that,” Fireheart said, gently but firmly. Ravenwing quieted, staring at him. “You can do this. And if you need help, you’ll have me and Greystripe around any time.”

Greystripe nodded. “And really, you’re the best one to teach him. Frostfur’s got a couple signs for him already, doesn’t she?”

Ravenwing sighed out a trembling breath. “I mean, yeah? I’ve seen her, but I don’t know how many signs, or what they mean—”

“I can help with that.”

The toms turned their heads, gradually followed by Snowpaw, as Frostfur padded up to them. Snowpaw went up to meet her and she licked his ear, nodded and blinked twice.

“I’m sorry you didn’t know ahead of time,” she said to Ravenwing. “I didn’t either. I would’ve talked to you and given you a headstart on communicating with him.”

Fireheart chanced a look back at Ravenwing; to his surprise, at Frostfur’s words, he seemed to have calmed down a little, saying with focus in his eyes, “I’d– I’d appreciate everything you can give me.”

Snowpaw looked almost upside-down at Ravenwing, still purring. Ravenwing slowly gave him a blink, and Snowpaw fluffed up, looking back now to his mother.

“He’s starting to understand lip-movement,” Frostfur said, gently ruffling her kit’s head. “But that’s still slow-going. He’s got pel* signs that he knows, and they should be enough right now for you to start with.”

“Can you share them with us, too?” Fireheart asked, Greystripe nodding in agreement. “We want to help however we can.”

Frostfur gave him a grateful face, but still spoke to Ravenwing. “This, what I just did—” she blinked twice with a nod “—that means ‘yes’. Or ‘well done’. He’ll know the difference. You can just nod for yes, but you have to nod and blink for ‘well done’.”

Focus burned brighter in Ravenwing’s eyes, and he leaned forward a bit, nodding for her to go on.

“For ‘no’, you can just shake your head,” Frostfur continued. “If you want to make him understand you’re not happy with him, put your ears back, too. He reacts pretty well to discipline, but don’t be cruel to my son.”

“Of course not!” Ravenwing blanched. “No, I’ll– I’ll be kind, of course. What else?”

“He also has ‘stop’ and ‘go’.” Frostfur folded her left ear back and lifted her left paw and lowered it just enough to leave it in the air, then did the same to the right, with the right paw landing on the ground again. “In that order. ‘Stop’ is for when he’s being too rowdy or when he’s doing something he shouldn’t. ‘Go’ is to let him have fun or do something he wants to do. He’ll check in with you with a head-tilt.”

Ravenwing nodded. “How do I tell him to ‘go’—like, to walk or crawl forward, when it’s time to show him how to hunt?”

Frostfur twitched one side of her mouth. “I haven’t gotten to that one yet. I think maybe you can work with ‘go’ and change it a little. Tap the ground twice, perhaps?”

“That’ll work.” Ravenwing paused, eyes squinting a little, then asked, “What’s the sign for ‘prey’?”

“Well, for food-prey, I’ve been pretending to chew three times.” Frostfur exaggeratedly opened and shut her mouth. Fireheart noted that she was rotating her jaw like a deer chewing—maybe that would keep Snowpaw from thinking she was talking out loud. “For huntable prey, I’d say he’ll get it best if you do something to pretend you’re hunting.”

Ravenwing hummed in thought. “…Maybe I can chatter my teeth. I’ve seen your kits do that when they were pretending to hunt each other a time or two.”

“Hey!” Mousefur called, and trotted over to the little group, a bouncing Brightpaw in tow. “Ravenwing, we were going to show the chriil** the territory. Do you and Snowpaw want to come with us?”

“Oh—” Ravenwing startled, glanced back at Fireheart and Greystripe, then said to Mousefur, “Uh– yeah, we’d like that. I was just getting some signs from Frostfur.”

“Oh, good idea.” Mousefur gave him an approving nod. “We can wait a little more, if you want.”

Ravenwing looked at Frostfur for her deliberation.

“I think you’ll be okay with those right now,” she said warmly. “Thank you for this, Ravenwing. I can see you’ll do well with him.”

Ravenwing weakly breathed a chuff. “I’ll try, at least.”

With that, he nosed Snowpaw to get his attention. When the little tom looked his way, he cocked his head in the direction of the rest of the apprentices at the camp entrance. Snowpaw nodded eagerly and followed after him as Mousefur led them back to the new trainees, Ravenwing glancing back once (weirdly past his friends) and relaxing his steps a bit.

“Maybe we should go with?” Fireheart said to Greystripe. “In case he needs support—”

“Don’t do that.”

The toms and Frostfur almost jumped in surprise, even though Whitecloud’s voice was low and raspy. He had approached without any of them seeing him and was sitting politely, waiting to be acknowledged.

“This is something he needs to do himself,” he elaborated after a moment of letting the surprise settle. “He has your help in many things in his life, but now is the time for him to grow on his own.”

“But—” started Greystripe.

Whitecloud shook his head. “You can always help with training on your off-nights. But Bluestar gave him this challenge for a reason. He’s smart, as you know, and very quick to pick things up, and you know that too. Let him do this alone. Give him the chance to come out of his shell.”

“I think I agree with that,” Frostfur said to the boys. “He can always ask me about signs if he needs to. You two just focus on yourselves for now.”

Fireheart tip-tapped the sand anxiously. “But what if he panics again, and we’re not there?”

Whitecloud gave him a calming tail-wave. “Have some faith in him. He’s not as fragile as he thinks he is.” His voice dropped even further. “You know better than anyone that he’s a lot more capable than he looks.”

The investigation was all his doing, Fireheart thought immediately. He drew in a breath, sighed and nodded. “We’ll try too.”

Greystripe grimaced, but copied the nod. “If he’s struggling still, then can we step in?”

Whitecloud purred. “Yes. But let him get through the initial struggles of first-time mentoring. He’ll learn on his own.”

Fireheart exchanged a look with Greystripe, both worried but cautiously optimistic. Whitecloud tilted his head to them and then walked off, heading to speak with Speckletail. Frostfur looked over at where her kits had gone, eyes fond and a bit sad.

He’ll be okay without you, a voice in Fireheart’s head gently told him. Like Whitecloud said. Give him time.

Even with his own subconscious encouraging him, Fireheart had to fight to not hurry out after his friend and offer support. He flexed his claws to get his anxiety out.

“He’ll be okay,” he said out loud.

Greystripe, looking equally less-than-confident, only sighed softly in response.

*”Pel”: a vague amount between five and eight.

**”Chriil”: plural of “chrii”, meaning “little changing cat”. Essentially equivalent to calling a young person “kid”.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #book three #arc one #charred legacy #chapter #chapter four

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xx-midnight-candy-goblin-xx · 5 months

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Here are all of the drawings I did for my Wings of Fire daily art challenge!!

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crescentcitymultimuse · 5 months

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The Clave had been very specific in detailing his mission here in New Orleans, the Original family of vampires who had once inhabited the place and ran the entirety of the city behind the scenes were back. New York was no longer the hottest spot for downworlders to crawl about in the shadows, many migrated to the big easy and that was why the institute had relocated. The Claves plan was to make a treaty of sorts with this ancient family to make sure order was in place and no one would have to get involved. Jace was the one sent to make it known - but to recent discoveries his job had become even more difficult. Though he was sure he could handle it. He was to protect this lineage with his life, if one died entire lines as the clave had come to discover would die off. And they couldn't have that, after recent threats made against the originals… here he was skulking about.

The night made the windows of the abbatoir stand out like a jack-o-lantern in the night, he approached in quick silent strides, standing just before a beautiful bricked arch way was a blonde girl with her back turned to him. "I'm here by order of the Clave," he announced himself, surely she'd hear him coming already, "Jace Herondale."

#mc. jace herondale #arc one

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amindofmuses · 5 months

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Malachai exhaled deeply. He'd been sitting in the French Quarter for over an hour just staring at the people passing by and trying desperately to understand the well of emotions that now pooled inside him. His eyes caught on a particularly animated teenager, his expressions filled with a passion Kai could not comprehend. More so after coming to the realization whomever he was speaking to was not physically present. "Hey you," he said plainly after the teen was within earshot. "You're not from around here are you? Yeah, me neither," he continued offhandedly. From what Malachai overheard this kid was searching for the supernatural. "This place is a host for magic and mischief. What are you looking for?"

#mc. malachai parker #arc one

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tales-from-kirkland · 2 years

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Annalise looks away, covering half of her face with her paw to avoid looking. Annalise: GOD. You have NO self respect! M sits down in the water with a grin, splashing her feet in the steamy water M: Pirate. Annalise: THAT’S YOUR ANSWER FOR EVERYTHING- The braixen is cut off by the goodra putting a hand on her shoulder. Goodra?: Listen. This IS a place of business. MY. Business. I don’t need someone shouting all the time. So tone down. Annalise jerks her shoulder away and grits her teeth Annalise: How DARE YOU touch me! I’ll be ANY VOLUME I WANT TO. FIRST I’M DRAGGED HER BY THAT FILTHY THING. I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO KIRKLAND AT ONCE WHY ARE YOU WASTING- The goodra suddenly bends down at eye level with the braixen, grabbing the foxes muzzle with a firm grip and pulling her towards them. Goodra?: I don’t care what my sister is planning on doing with you or why you are her “prisoner”. But if you are somehow still alive, you should show some fucking respect to her. Because I know you had to probably go through Elise to get this far. Annalise winces as the goodra’s grip tightens on her muzzle, her paws clawing into the goodras in a attempt to pry free. Goodra?: I also wont have you screaming in my place of business. My sister may not find your screeching annoying, but I am not so kind. So get. it. together. I may just run this place, but I’ll show you damn quick how much I can act like my family. The goodra releases Annalise with distaste and looks over at the scragoo in the water, leaving the braixen speechless and rubbing her muzzle in pain. Goodra?: Do you need anything special. You haven’t had a decent bath in weeks. M: Just shove your hand in the tub scent basket and throw whatever you grab first! I ain’t that fussed. The goodra nods and leaves the room, walking past the dejected Annalise in the corner. M: THANK YOU MARILYNNN <3 The Scragoo looks over at Annalise, splashing her feet in the water gently. M:.. I don’t know what she said to yas. But I’m sure she didn’t mean no harm! Marilyn got big bark but not that much bite... Unless she gets a gun then WOOF better run for ye money! The pirate laughs and splashes in the water a bit, stopping when noticing the braixen didn’t share her good spirit. M:.... Uh... I know that was prolly... embarassin’ fer ye.... But uh... Moving forward is best to not make it awkward. No reason for us both to be sittin her awkwardly! The scragoo playfully splashes some water at Annalise, getting a irritated glare in return. M: There ya go! THAT’S tha “I wish ye were dead” look I’ve come to know <3 Annalise rolls her eyes and gives a grunt in response, gently taking off her cape and sitting down on a bench near the large tub. Still attempting to avoid eye contact with others nearby. Getting a flustered expression and looking away dramatically whenever someone walked by M:.... Have you never seen a nakey person before or- Annalise: That is none of your concern! M: HeeHee - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [ M and Annalise are now in the spa area ] [ Feel free to speak with them if you wish ]

#chrono #arc one #M #Annalise #Marilyn #sfw #suggestive #kind of not really but just in case <3 #long post #pokemon ask #pokemon ask blog #goodra #scrafty #braixen #Dax #SoftSnow #swearing #cursing #cussing

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lunathecatwizard · 16 days

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Kestrel: Where's Tusamai?

Clay: Doing stuff

Kestrel: I don't like the sound of that, wheres Starflight?

Clay: Trying to stop Tusamai from doing the stuff. . .

Kestrel: Sunny and Glory?

Clay: Trying to stop Starflight from stopping Tusamai from doing the stuff.

Kestrel: And what are you doing here?

Clay: From stopping you from stopping Sunny and Glory from stopping Starflight from stopping Tusamai from doing the stuff.

#wings of fire #clay #tusamai #sunny #glory #starflight #arc one #wof

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my-friend-mewtwo · 3 months

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I wonder what that means??

#art #artists on tumblr #cute #pokemon #pokeblogging #silver mewtwo #sunset mew #arc one #lab arc #comics #mew #mewtwo

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crescentcitymuses · 4 months

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Dean had awoken out of his grave after experiencing immense torture and pain as well as an unquenchable thirst. As breathing was extremely hard at that point, Dean could feel his lungs inhaling and exhaling for air with no luck and crawling out of his grave that he was buried in felt impossible, but he was able to. He didn’t know why he was alive, but his first thought was that Sammy made a deal with a crossroads demon in exchange. His plans were to find a place to get refreshed, because he felt like he was going to die again from thirst. Then he was going to call Sam and Bobby— the problem was that he wasn’t quite sure where he was.

It wasn’t long before Dean found a Gas Station that looked like it was closed. The eldest Winchester quickly broke into the closed Gas Station that was a couple miles out of New Orleans where he was buried. Dean picked up and ice cold water bottle, and began drinking it. One bottle was down, but he still was thirsty; so he took another one, as he was drinking that one he could feel an agonizing pain starting on his left bicep, so he walked over to a mirror that was hanging in the back of the Cashier station. Dean quickly lifted the black sleeve to his t-shirt and notice a red scorched hand-print that burned in pain when touched. He couldn’t help but wonder how he got that— it was very peculiar, but Dean quickly placed it out of his mind as his stomach began to growl. He pulled his sleeve back down and grabbed a hostess apple pie, and began eating it.

#mc. dean Winchester #arc one

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yourbrightsoul · 2 years

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SPEAKING of Hocotate, have you heard about the famous courier pilot from there that went missing. They were last seen nearby this sector I believe. Their name escapes me, but they worked for the now defunct Hocotate Freight, apparently they left a family devastated when they disappeared.

[[You guys really love to make Alph mad, huh? /lh]]

[[Also the end of arc one will be soon! Very excited to show off how that goes, hehehe]]

Pg. 26, First / Previous / Next

#pikmin #ask blog #pikmin ask blog #olimin #soul #alph pikmin #brittany pikmin #charlie pikmin #arc one

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scrib-art · 2 years

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The first arc of our homebrew Pathfinder campaign has wrapped up. Here’s a scene from a spooky shared dream sequence featuring @pepsiwithlemon‘s PC Sir Winthrop (right), his estranged wife Judith (left), and my PC Mimsi (center), beholding the horrors at the end of the hallway with her darkvision.

☆: *.♡ .* :☆

DO NOT REPOST (REBLOGS WELCOME) | ADDITIONAL TERMS

#oc #pathfinder #arc one #oc: mimsi morwaine #pathfinder: the exanimate harbinger

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dlthedescent · 2 years

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TWENTY-FOUR: LOOSE ENDS

“Bzzt!”

Static resounded in Jack's ear like an unwanted worm.

“Jack. What a surprise.”

She ignored the dulcet tones snaking their way into the comms. If GRE had surveillance devices, then Alexander would certainly have seized them for his own benefits.

So hijacking the channel was child’s play.

It was nothing but stalling. The criminal lord’s loyal mutts hounded after her and Freakazoid. Some tried to climb the rooftops, one cutting close to grabbing the woman in red.

Only for the bloke to get roped by the hooded man instead and be pulled right off the edge. He plummeted, splat onto the bloodied pavement - another misguided soul removed from the face of a shattered city.

“Not only have you been putting your nose into my business, but you’ve got yourself an interesting-looking pet.”

Crane could have protested - snap at him and say “Who are you calling a pet?” The way this convict accentuated that name…actually made his thick skin crawl.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” Alexander droned.

“I don’t disappoint.” A jab back at him, even though Jack knew it wouldn’t make a dent.

“Hm,” he hummed, ruffled. “I could spend the next minute asking questions. But you know how business is.”

"There she is!"

BANG!

A bullet strayed past her head the moment she slid down the asphalt shingle and ducked behind an air-con vent.

“You're kidnapping people and testing them for the Harran Virus. What's more to it?” Right to the point, Jack had never held back her punches.

“Is that why you’ve been snooping around?” Alexander countered. Feigning his shock. “Heroism is not your shtick.”

She dashed around her hiding place. The shifting shadows gave it away - a convict trying to get the jump on her first stared right back at the woman with shock.

The close distance became his disadvantage as a sharp parry to his dominant arm rendered him helpless with a hard, brutal shove of his head to the vent.

THUD!

“Always modest. But that’s also one of your biggest flaws,” Alexander continued to drone. “Ever heard the phrase, ‘the need of the many outweighs the need of the few’?”

He added a chuckle as if he found it hilarious.

“Everyone wants a solution to this pandemic. What’s so bad about a few infected people helping out our cause?” he explained with no shred of morals. “We only live once.”

Always reasoning people. Bring them to his vision. And putting that fine print in between the lines.

It’s easy to lose a life anytime, anywhere.

“Watch your back, Jack,” Alexander warned. “Because this time, I won’t give favors.”

There was a history Crane couldn’t deny in the lines. From everything he’s been learning about the current news in Scanderoon, the man named Alexander has made ‘his business’ even before Kyle regained his humanity. And almost mirroring his own problematic deal with Rais, Jack also had treaded carefully - or vivaciously with intent - around this guy’s feet.

But the thing about favors…

“And I’ll be sure to take that pet off ya,” the Greek convict pointed with fascination in his voice.

“Give it your best shot.”

Freakazoid shouldn’t have done that - but Jack didn’t try to stop him.

One startled laugh escaped from the comms. Then came the excited, loud burst. A surprise to Alexander in the middle of everything, hearing first-hand something that should have been deemed fiction.

“So he talks?!” he gushed. “He really talks!”

To Crane, hearing a man cackle like that made him growingly uncomfortable, sprouting out Greek words of excitement. If this was Rais, he would definitely jump to the idea of capturing a sentient infected.

Jack, however, drowned out the bellowing. Kept her feet going, eyes up front. The furthest they were away from that man, the better.

He was entertained. And a pleased Valchos was the last thing Jack wanted.

“Oooh…” Alexander ended with the same, usual reticent tone. “Keep making this interesting, Jack.”

And like that, the chase crawled to an end - either the convicts had given up or the duo had indeed killed a great number on the go. Anti-climatic, disconcerting and yet, reassuring at the same time.

Jack scouted back to see themselves far from the outpost. It had been on the spur of the moment when she just decided to go one direction and didn’t look back.

That also meant Ender and Riza headed off in their own directions, away from the danger.

“Ender. Riza. You two all right?” Jack quickly called over the comms.

It took a few seconds for any response, clutching at her worry. Then she felt it lift off once she heard Ender’s voice.

“We’re good,” he assured through bated breath. “Got Peri and the kid to a safe place.”

"You didn't see any infected in robes?"

An odd question that Freakazoid picked on but left the other speakers puzzled.

"Robes?" Ender repeated.

"Are we talking about those cultists?" Riza intruded. "Didn't see them."

Jack didn't go into context, uncertain on what she had seen…

She moved on. Some other time on this strange story.

"Whole neighborhood's a mess now." The aftermath of their little trespassing could be seen over the urban landscape; smoke and wails in the distance.

“We can take these two back to the Junction.” No play on words, not witty banter from Riza either. The two Grads had their priorities already set that lighthearted talk could be done another time.

“Don’t stop for anything.”

The silence comforted Jack that they’d follow through. No matter what, they couldn’t get caught. Not when Alexander was in that kind of mood now…

“So.”

She wheeled back to her partner.

“Not only do you have GRE looking for you. But you also have the most dangerous man after your head… What did you do before you met me?”

She ushered her usual, nonchalant laugh. “There’s a lot of things I’ve done.”

“Shocking,” he countered out loud.

“Isn't it better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

“You don’t see this as a problem.”

“Never have. I see this as an opportunity.”

“Opportunity,” Crane finished just as she said it. He almost was in rhythm with Jack - a scary thought to be ending her sentences. “Remember that when you’re six feet under and I’m put in a cage again.”

Again, Jack shrugged it off. There was a fine difference between being overconfident and being too gutless - but he kept that to himself.

“You can’t stay in Scanderoon.”

And who decided that? However, Jack refrained from saying it. She thought it over; she knew full well before she left the Outskirts that she’d have to make both friends and foes. She just didn’t anticipate seeing an old face...

“Technically, my contract with the Junction is finished.” She glanced at Freakazoid with the usual grin. “I got the Day Hunter. Found Crybaby. And we put a stop to those disappearances.”

Jack strode about casually as she pondered to a conclusion...

“Why not?" she said to herself. "We can go sightseeing some other place.”

Crane huffed. “You mean Harran.”

“It’s not like I can go anywhere else, can I?”

Crane didn’t rebuke back at the jesting joust. It did leave him in knots but…

This was it. Things had slowed down but now, nothing held Jack back. After all, her destination had been Harran from the start.

Looking over the circumstances now, a trip there might be for the better. Until things could cool down.

Maybe.

“So. Think you can hold off on your own for a while?”

That offer… Jack may be the most unreadable and enigmatic person to him. But never had she forcefully tug on his leash to do her bidding, not like Rias. Above all, Crane had shown her many times he didn’t want to go back to Harran.

He couldn’t stop her. Nor could he stall for time. Or reject the one request he’s been given the entire time: be her Lifeline all the way.

“And leave you to do something reckless?” he complained. “Hard pass.”

The brunette chuckled. “So you’re not sick of me?”

No rebuttal. That didn’t mean he wasn’t at times.

“Then it’s settled.”

The sudden ‘final verdict’ nearly took him by surprise - underneath his scarf, he grew more worried.

“First thing first, the Junction. Can’t just up and disappear on them,” she uttered. “Then we’ll head for Harran.”

Crane felt…disheartened.

“Yeah… Harran.”

Story continues on at these links: FFN and AO3.

#dying light #dying light game #dyinglight #DL: The Descent #fanfiction #dying light fanfiction #twenty-four #Arc One #dying light fanfic #kyle crane #Mad Jack #ocs #fanfics

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redux-iterum · 23 days

Text

Charred Legacy: Chapter One

(AO3 counterpart here.)

All things considered, it was a nice night.

Fireheart was half-rolled onto his back, front paws tucked into his upturned chest while his rear end remained on its side. His tail tapped absentmindedly on the still-warm sand as he gazed up at the stars. The weather had loosened up, mercifully keeping the sky clear and even warming the air a little. It was still somewhat chilled, but the ground had softened from muddy slop to dense soil—still retaining a bit of moisture, but not enough to stick to a traveling cat’s paws—and the frost had barely made an appearance before shying away and melting again into dew.

Thank the Three for small miracles, Fireheart thought as his eyes lazily drifted from star to star. They know we needed it.

Caught up in the beauty of the sky and the grainy comfort of the sand, he was only somewhat registering cats talking around him. Faint squeals drifted out of the nursery’s entrance and his ear twitched at what he thought (hoped, really) was Goldenflower gently chiding the kits inside. Frostfur’s litter was already out, but in the past month they had calmed down considerably and come to prefer talking with the one cat in the apprentice’s den who would soon be a warrior, Swiftpaw, as he regaled them with stories of the territory and all the strange creatures they would see there.

Fireheart twisted his head back and to the side a bit—yes, there they were, listening to the black tom recounting his experience going to the Mother on the far side of the territories.

“And I know she looks scary,” he was saying, “but that’s kind of the point, I think. It makes you respect her even more. You just have to be brave and go into her mouth, trusting her. And Yellowfang will be there to guide you, so you’ll find your way.”

The sole molly of the litter, fluffy ginger-patched Brightkit, spoke up now. “I won’t be scared. The Mother wouldn’t hurt us—we’re her favorites.”

Thornkit, dark and golden-brown, frowned at her. “Still gotta be ‘spectful.”

Fireheart’s mouth twitched into a brief grimace in sympathy as the tom’s ears went back in embarrassment at the end of his sentence. Thornkit still slurred and stumbled over his words, even with as much as Frostfur had worked with him on speaking clearly, and he had been speaking shorter and shorter sentences recently, and at a much lower volume. His siblings understood him just fine, save one.

That one, the deaf little white tom directly in front of Swiftpaw, was Snowkit. His bright blue eyes, wide and vibrant, were fixed on Swiftpaw’s mouth as the apprentice said, “Yeah, it’s important to be quiet on the walk in and during the ceremony. Just wait until Yellowfang speaks to you.”

Brackenkit, a thinner and lighter version of Thornkit, tilted his head. “Will Cinderpaw be there?”

“She was when I went.” Swiftpaw’s eyes lifted upwards as he squinted a bit. “I mean, we did ours together, so that’s why, but I think she’d have to go anyway.” He turned to look at his dark grey sister as she limped out from the ferns by the meeting stump. “Hey, Cinderpaw! Are you going to be with these kits when they do their pilgrimage?”

Cinderpaw beamed with a hacking scoff very similar to her mentor’s. “Obviously! I have to learn how to do it myself, and there’s no way I’m missing out on Brighty getting blessed.” She swept her tail, crooked at the tip, in the direction of the toms. “And you guys, of course.”

Brackenkit seemed to take no offense. “I bet my blessing will be from Rokhar.”

Fireheart purred, rolling slowly onto his side. Of all the three gods, the Tiger was the one he understood the least. Then again, it seemed like everyone outside of the seer role had some trouble grasping exactly what Rokhar was all about. The first seer of Fireheart’s life in ThunderClan, Spottedleaf, had described him as being “in-between” and “all-encompassing”. Even after more than a year of being a Clan cat, Fireheart still had no idea what that meant.

“Why Rokhar?” Swiftpaw asked, sounding amused. “Because he’s the cool—?“

“Because he’s the cool one!” Brackenkit said, exactly in tandem with the apprentice. At another frown from Thornkit, he added, “I mean, they’re all cool, but Rokhar’s the coolest.”

Cinderpaw limped up to the little gathering of the young, her bad leg crumpled up towards her belly. “Knowing your dad, he’s probably telling Horoa right now to bless all of you with a Lion’s touch.”

While the kits all started babbling to each other about whether that was true or not, Fireheart’s heart clenched at the mention of Lionface. He had been the deputy of ThunderClan after Redtail, another first for Fireheart when he had joined the Clan from life as a house cat. Both of them had been great toms, Redtail kind and friendly and Lionface majestic and confident (even if he and Fireheart had clashed here and there). Both of them were gone, and both of them had been…

Fireheart’s claws sank into the sand. He eyed Cinderpaw’s crippled leg.

It had been around a month since the trial that shattered the Clan’s collective heart. No one had spoken of it after it happened, and even the mere implication of something that would link back to that night was hushed or ignored. Fireheart couldn’t stand this thing Clan cats had with refusing to acknowledge bad cats or the things they’d done; it didn’t help anyone feel better, it just made things awkward and sad. Supposedly, the spirits of these bad cats could come back if spoken about or named and haunt the territories, but as far as Fireheart had seen, the only thing they haunted was his dreams.

What he’d give to talk about this with Goldenflower.

But she was in the nursery now, and she needed peace and quiet to raise his adoptive siblings until they were big enough to come out and explore camp. Being forbidden from visiting, Fireheart just had to rely on news shared by Brindleface or Frostfur—mostly Brindleface, as Frostfur had left the nursery early to give the crowded den some room and now only came to check on her nearly-grown kits. Brindleface had been incredibly nervous and sensitive when she was stuck in the den, but now that she had been able to leave her kits for walks here and there…

“Fireheart! There you are!”

The ginger tom blinked and got to his feet, shaking off what sand had clung to his fur. The beautiful grey tortoiseshell in question had just climbed up and out of the nursery, her pale green eyes shining as Fireheart approached her.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said when he was close enough. “Well, two surprises.”

Fireheart perked up. “Really? Are they about Cloudkit?”

“They are.” Brindleface’s fluffy tail curled at the delight that must have immediately brightened up Fireheart’s face. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have come seen him before, but that makes this a little more interesting.”

Cloudkit had been adopted into the Clan, the same as his uncle. Fireheart had been given the kit by his frantic sister, Rosy, and ThunderClan took him in with only a bit of reluctance. The two of them did not look similar—Fireheart was skinny and shorthaired and Cloudkit was a ball of white fluff—and with the automatic distance of Fireheart not being able to visit to see his nephew and bond with him, he could only hope that they wouldn’t be so different that they could not find common ground besides being outsiders at birth, especially since Fireheart had promised to mentor Cloudkit once he became an apprentice.

“What is it, then?” he asked, trying not to sound overly-eager.

“Well, for one…” Brindleface turned and poked her head into the nursery. “Babies, do you want to come out now?”

Indistinct squeaks of excitement immediately followed this, and Brindleface purred before turning back to Fireheart, saying, “That’s the first surprise. They’re ready to meet you.”

Fireheart’s fur flared out and he beamed. “I can see him now!”

Brindleface nodded, her whiskers twitching. “And the second…”

She gestured with her paw just in time for the first kits to scramble out of the den: both grey with broken tabby markings, similar in every way except for the molly being both more delicate in the face and fluffier than her brother. They completely ignored Fireheart and bumbled out into the center of camp. Who followed them was—

Not the kit Fireheart had brought in.

This kit was fluffy and round, sure, but ginger covered his ears and nose and was steadily claiming his tail. His fur was quite long and puffed out, even if he was a bit small; if it weren’t for the unusual color, he would fit perfectly in with the rest of ThunderClan. By the way his deep blue eyes blinked owlishly at Fireheart, he was just as surprised at the reunion.

“Cloudkit,” Brindleface said with another paw-gesture, “this is your uncle, Fireheart. Remember how we talked about him?”

“Ohhh,” Cloudkit said loudly. He looked Fireheart up and down before announcing, “You’re short.”

“Cloudkit!” Brindleface scolded. “That’s rude.”

Fireheart chuffed and bent his head to meet his nephew’s eye-level. “And you’re pudgy.”

Cloudkit squinted at Fireheart. “What’s ‘pudgy’?”

“Fat!” Cinderpaw called from across the clearing.

Cloudkit squawked and slowly and clumsily swatted a paw in the direction of Fireheart’s nose. “’Mnot pudgy! You’re pudgy!”

Brindleface stared at the little tom in baffled embarrassment, but Fireheart pretended to be struck and rubbed his nose like it’d been scratched.

“Don’t beat me up, please,” he said, poorly hiding his amusement. “I’m sorry, you’re not.”

Cloudkit nodded in satisfaction—then, to Fireheart’s surprise, he toddled right up to his uncle and bumped their noses together. Him being so small, it didn’t hurt, but it was more of a punch than usual.

“Hi, uncle,” Cloudkit said, pulling back.

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “Hi, nephew.”

“That’s better.” Brindleface stepped forward to lick Cloudkit’s ear. “Are you ready to meet your Clanmates now?”

The little puffball nearly jumped in place and waddled off after his siblings, who were currently interrupting the discussion between Frostfur’s litter and Swiftpaw. Fireheart watched him go, amazed at the strength of the flame of affection in his chest, even when he hadn’t seen the kit since he’d come to the Clan.

“How did his fur get like that?” He turned to Brindleface now. “He was white when I brought him in.”

Brindleface rolled a shoulder. “Kittypet blood, I’m guessing. I’ve never seen anything like that in the territories. I thought he was sick at first, but he’s been perfectly happy and healthy this whole time.” She gave Fireheart a cheeky squint. “Both of you stick out now.”

Fireheart sighed a chuff. “At least he’ll be warm this winter.”

Brindleface nodded. Then her eyes flicked to the side and narrowed a fraction before she walked off after her litter. Fireheart’s gaze followed where she’d looked.

Darkstripe. Of course. He was glaring at the now-wandering Cloudkit.

Fireheart contained another, much heavier sigh. Since the trial, the dark tabby had hardly said more than one word to anyone, and they had to speak to him first. Fireheart hadn’t dared start a conversation with him—Darkstripe had never liked him to begin with, but since the end result of the trial was largely on Fireheart’s shoulders, the hatred in Darkstripe’s eyes burned Fireheart’s back whenever the two had to cross paths. He’d done his best to give the older warrior space, which was difficult when they shared a den.

Anticipating the glare to turn on him, Fireheart prepared to look away and find something else to engage with. He was saved by the camp entrance rustling to reveal the pale brown tortoiseshell Speckletail leading a patrol in. As her followers trotted to the prey-pile, she approached Darkstripe and said something to him Fireheart didn’t catch. Darkstripe didn’t respond beyond a twitch of his lip, getting to his feet and stalking out of camp. Speckletail watched him go, huffed and shook her head before joining the rest of the patrol.

After the loss of the prior deputy—the one that trial had been all about—Speckletail had been selected to replace him. She hadn’t been the expected choice, but she had accepted the role and immediately went about keeping the Clan busy and organized for the first month of her tenure. Fireheart suspected that this was a tactical decision; giving everyone something to do kept them from stewing in their own thoughts over the events of the past fall. Things had finally slowed down, with the warmer weather gifting the Clan with more prey than Fireheart had been told showed up in the end seasons. This was one of the first nights in quite a while that Fireheart had gotten to stay home and just enjoy the peace of camp.

“Good evening,” he said to Speckletail as she walked past him with a woodrat.

She nodded to him, putting down her prey for a moment. “Any word while I was gone?”

Fireheart shook his head, ears going back sadly. “I haven’t spoken to her since a few days ago.”

Speckletail sighed through her nose. Her eyes were tired. “I’ll talk with her once I’ve eaten.” She picked up her prey again and continued on her way, sitting down with Willowpelt on the far side of camp.

Fireheart’s eyes drifted to the wall of briar that surrounded the sandy clearing. Though he couldn’t see it, his gaze landed on the area where the leader’s den was situated on the outside.

Where Bluestar was undoubtedly sleeping.

The trial and the near-murder preceding it had hurt everyone, but it had broken something in the Clan’s leader. Only a few days after the deputy’s execution, Bluestar had become a rare sight. She now walked alone in the forest or holed up in her den, only coming out to order patrols or respond to something Speckletail asked her about. It had been part of the quiet conversation for some time now, but no one dared to broach the topic to Bluestar—even Fireheart, her former apprentice, or Whitecloud, her nephew.

It wasn’t fair, Fireheart wanted to shout to the stars. Of all the cats suffering, why did their leader have to struggle the hardest? The pain and suspicion and fear clouded her eyes and silenced her voice. It had been her throat the deputy’s teeth nearly crushed, her friends and Clanmates he crippled and murdered to get to her. Now, whenever she looked at her charges, it seemed like she was gauging their intentions, how well they could be trusted. Even Fireheart had been under scrutiny more than once.

She really would benefit from being able to talk about this whole thing…

“Cloudkit, please!”

Fireheart blinked and was back in camp. He turned his head to see his nephew marching for the fallen log that was the elder’s den. The elders were already out—lanky and grey One-eye, dark brown Halftail, and black-and-white Patchpelt—but they were talking among themselves, completely unaware of the kit making his way towards them, his siblings trailing behind with curious looks on their faces. Brindleface was padding after them, calling for Cloudkit.

“Let them be—” she started, but Cloudkit broke into a clumsy imitation of a run and continued on. Just as he reached Patchpelt, he tried to slow down, only succeeding in crashing right into the elder and stumbling backwards, plopping into a sitting position.

Patchpelt coughed (as he had been lately) in surprise and looked round to see the kit. His faded eyes brightened. “Well, now! I don’t remember this one.”

“I’m Cloudkit.” The furball blinked up at him. “My sister is Aspenkit and my brother is Ashkit.”

Halftail tilted his head, eyes narrowed analytically.

“You’ve got some ginger on your face, little ant,” croaked One-eye, peering with her single eye at the kit. “Or you’ve been playing in the sand.”

“No, he’s supposed to look like that.” Brindleface hurried up to them. “I’m sorry he disturbed you.”

“You know we love being disturbed,” Patchpelt said fondly, looking at the grey kits as they approached. “Ah, and this must be Ashkit and Aspenkit.”

The tom kit nodded firmly, standing as tall as he could, while the molly lowered her nose and shyly regarded the ground. Cloudkit, meanwhile, was meeting One-eye’s gaze, looking completely unbothered by the marred face that every kit and new apprentice was a little taken aback by. Fireheart noted with pride that he didn’t broach the topic of One-eye’s accident, only chirping, “You’re tall.”

One-eye chortled. “And old, on top of that. Do you know what my name is?”

Cloudkit shook his head.

“I’m One-eye, unsurprisingly.” The pale molly nodded to her denmates. “That’s Halftail and Patchpelt. Can you guess which is which?”

“Um…” Cloudkit scrunched up his little face before answering slowly. “Patchpelt’s got patches, and Halftail’s brown, right?”

“Very good.” Patchpelt purred. “We have easy names to remember.”

Cloudkit brightened up and wagged his short little tail. “I did it!”

“Yes, you did it,” Brindleface said, touching her nose to her adopted son’s head, adding to the elders, “I can distract him if he starts to bother you.”

“Oh, he’s not a bother at all.” One-eye tilted her head comically at Cloudkit, who trilled in response. “I haven’t had a kit not flinch at my face since I became an elder.”

Fireheart watched on as Cloudkit made his way around to Halftail, who eyed him suspiciously but said nothing. An anxiety he didn’t know was in his stomach settled at the warm looks on the elders’ faces when Cloudkit loudly announced, “Fireheart’s my uncle!” and puffed out his little chest.

He’s bold, Fireheart thought affectionately, watching his nephew respond to Patchpelt’s kindly questions about life in the nursery. Rosy, whether or not you get to see him again, I know you’ll be proud.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter one #book three #arc one #charred legacy

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