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residents-of-the-darkforest · 2 years

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Here Again (short story)

The shrieking halted abruptly as he realized that, although his neck strained with all kinds of pain from stinging to stabbing imaginable, there were clear indicators that he no longer was where he.. just was.

The growling had stopped, as had the agonizing feeling of having his head yanked from his shoulders. He blinked, taking in what was around him, moving his neck as he did, taking in the freedom of movement, and stifled a gasp of surprise when it felt weird. His neck felt cold, light, and he could feel what was most likely blood oozing from his throat.

As his eyes adjusted, he saw the darkness. In it, trees curling around each other as though trying to suffocate their competition, littered with claw marks, clumps of fur, and old and new splatters of blood. The leaves that appeared were yellow at brightest, crumply dry or wet and saggy.

Myrtlewing knew where he was. It didn’t take a genius. He felt a chuckle rise in his throat. The shadows stretched toward him. Branches like sharp talons reached to grab him. Anyone else, the weak-hearted, would have thought of it like a predator ready to sink its fangs into its prey–he thought of the dog–and smiled again. It wasn’t a warning, it was welcoming.

Of course the dark shadows of the damned would be most thrilled to have someone so vile join their forest.

“Myrtle?”

Myrtlewing jolted upright, but not from shock or fear. He whirled around, looking in every direction, but the form for the oh-so-familiar voice was nowhere to be seen.

“Alder?” he called out curiously. He wondered if this was another thing about this place, false voices. But he knew if anyone else was going to be here, it was going to be his partner in crime.

A soft giggle sounded. “Up here, you idiot,” the voice said again.

Myrtlewing tilted his head back, too excited to notice the crackling as he did. He squinted his eyes, seeing only darkness at first. Then something shifted. A tail! A grin plastered his face and his heart beat happily. Two glowing eyes looked back at him, two eyes that he had longed to see for so long, that had plagued his nightmares and dreams and tugged at the strings on his heart as he grieved their loss.

He leaped onto the tree, scrambling with such eagerness that he was up and on the same branch as Alderstar before he could take two breaths.

Then he saw him– him! Perfect golden coat on the muscular body, sharp and vicious teeth showing in his smile of delight. Alderstar twisted so that he faced him.

“Hi.”

After he finally settled his racing heart a bit, Myrtlewing lifted a brow. “You the welcoming committee?”

Alderstar snorted. “Something so decent for this place?”

His voice. His voice was here again, swirling around and into his ears like birdsong.

“It would be horrible,” Myrtlewing agreed. “Then again, seeing your face first-thing would be worse.”

He half-expected, kind of wanted, for Alderstar to smack him around the head as he usually did when he made a joke at his expense, but instead Alderstar only blinked warmly at him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Myrtlewing looked around. “Was Starclan looking for me? Perhaps I’ll head over–” this time, Alderstar did smack him. “You know what I meant!”

Myrtlrwing grinned more. He did. “That tends to happen when you die.”

Alderstar frowned. He leaned in close, sniffing at Myrtlewing’s wound. “Stars, it looks horrible!” Myrtlewing noticed Alder’s own stain of red. He shifted back again, concern in his blue eyes as he looked at Myrtlewing. Then his features shifted to a mischievous grin. “But compared to the rest of you….”

Myrtlewing scoffed. “Speak for yourself! I count five leaves on you with three mud stains for each.”

“Yes, well, it’s hard to keep yourself clean when no one is grooming your fur.”

Myrtlewing rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to groom your own fur!” he said sarcastically.

“I do!” Alderstar cut in. “I just figured you would miss doing the honour of keeping your leader clean so much that I should make the next time as exhilarating as possible.”

“Right.” Myrtlewing dipped his head. “It’s not because you simply can’t go two seconds without causing a mess?”

“Oh, you want to talk about messes?” Alderstar said in pointed humour. Myrtlewing recalled the first time Alderstar had seen who he truly was– a murderer, muzzle still drenched with the blood of their Clanmate, his lifeless body at Myrtlewing’s paws. Alderstar could have run off, could have told the Clan. He could have killed Myrtlewing right there. Instead, he turned his fangs on the other witness, and instantly helped Myrtlewing to dispose of the bodies. He may have been strange around Myrtlewing for a while after that, but he was happy enough to join in the next adventures, excited to.

They settled into content silence as Myrtlewing picked away the clumps of leaves, then moved onto untangling tied fur.

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--Yes, the ‘officially becoming mates’ thing is very close after this, but I’m not gonna reveal which one said it, so you’ll just have to wonder that for yourself!

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residents-of-the-darkforest · 2 years

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Make An Exchange (short story)

Part 1: https://at.tumblr.com/residents-of-the-darkforest/hootpetal-groomed-perchpaw-gently-making-sure-to/6gu4raz5b6sm

Part 2: https://at.tumblr.com/residents-of-the-darkforest/we-own-it-short-story/46b1lj1mss0y

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-------------- Tartail had no time to react before he was shoved to the ground, the breath knocked out of him as Alderstar landed expertly on his back. “Ge uff mm mm” he gurgled through his teeth. Alderstar moved his legs, paws planted on either side.

Thinking he was free, Tartail began to raise his head. Alderstar grabbed him by the scruff and slammed his face into the ground, then again, and again, and again. Then he stepped away further, keeping one paw firm on his tail to prevent him from running off too soon.

Tartail snarled. “What in the Stars do you think you are doing? Get away from me! Who do you think you are?”

Myrtlewing tilted his head, creaking. But he let Alderstar respond.

“I’d like to know what you think you were doing when you touched my son.”

Tartail struggled, lashing out with his claws, to no avail. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Alderstar nodded to Myrtlewing, who padded away for a short moment, returning with a branch in his jaws, its long, sharp thorns making Tartail’s jaw drop. Then he closed it and hissed.

Myrtlewing moved in a dance-like motion as he got closer. Alderstar spoke. “Something about thorns was involved. You remember now?”

“Not a clue! Get away from me!”

Closer, and closer the thorns got, long, piercing, to his eyes. Tartail shrunk away as far as his body could allow him to crumble, before it was less than a claw-length away, and he gasped out, “alright, alright! Yes, I hurt the little tom! Big dea–” he began to say, then clearly thought better of it.

Myrtlrwing gave a satisfied nod, then tossed the branch away.

Tartail attempted to rise again. “So, we’re done now?” Alderstar swept his legs, and he stumbled awkwardly onto his face. Alderstar’s second paw moved to atop his head, claws sinking in deeply in a firm grip. “Was I not clear? You hurt my son.”

Tartail stuttered. His muzzle rippled. Clearly, he was still trying to act intimidating. Myrtlewing guessed it was to hide his fear. “W-why don’t I let you hurt something of mine?”

“That’s the plan,” Alderstar responded, shifting his back paw to twist Tartail’s tail.

He yelped. “No! I mean, my mate! You can hurt her! I hurt someone who you care about, so fair exchange, right?”

Myrtlewing and Alderstar shared a glance, and just like so many times before, they came to an agreement without uttering a word.

“Okay,” Myrtlewing said breezily, padding away. He scanned the ground, looking for the perfect tool. He had an idea for what to do, but it was foggy, and he waited for a clearer one to come to him as he laid eyes on…. There! Perfect! “We can make an exchange.”

The rock was too big to pick up, so he pushed it forward with his paws until it lay in front of a very confused Tartail. Alderstar, too, looked curious, ears perking in interest.

Myrtlewing leveled with Tartail, wanting to see every point and second of his reaction. “First option, we kill you. No more Tartail, no more everything. You will be nothing, you will be forgotten. And don’t think it will be quick. Or, second option–” he nudged the stone closer– “you swallow the rock.”

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--To give an idea to how horrible the choice to swallow the rock is, look to this page (which very much gave me the idea): https://www.deviantart.com/doeprince/art/Golden-Shrike-184-926392676

--Direct continuation from second part!

@ambitiousauthor

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