#book two | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redux-iterum · 6 months

Text

Burning Hearts: Epilogue

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Camp was silent, but in the purposefully hushed way, that of a Clan who’d woken up to the pained cries of a queen as she brought her litter into the world and had elected to leave her be until the night. The kits had stopped squealing, busily nursing at Goldenflower’s belly, kneading her with their shut eyes and ears. Brindleface and her kits had fallen asleep quickly after the birthing, and Frostfur was outside guarding the nursery as her own kits drifted off again.

With the sun thankfully dimmed by a cloudy sky, Goldenflower’s eyes were glued to her litter of three: two beautiful little torbie mollies, the stronger pale ginger and brown and the weaker a darker version, and a curious, rotund tabby tom. Somehow, despite everything the matriarch had learned in her studies, he had come out dark brown.

Just like his father.

Was StarClan punishing her for something? What for? Her ignorance? Her blind trust and love? How was this possible otherwise?

Goldenflower repressed a grieving shudder and forced her thoughts to something else—anything else.

Names. They needed names. And she was the only one here to give them.

If Fireheart were here, she could take the opportunity to teach him how to name his own kits when he had them. It could have taken her mind off of everything, to see his excitement when he met his little siblings, and his worry over Cloudkit, who had grown fatter and louder, if that was possible.

But he wasn’t here. She’d have to do this alone.

Some small part of her reminded her that Brindleface and Frostfur could help, but… no. This was for family to do. She had a feeling.

The first molly, the pale one, she regarded with no small amount of affection. She was as big as her brother—bigger, really—and her markings were paired together beautifully, a solid blend of pale ginger and a warm brown with the tabby markings streaking down her body evenly. She was mostly that ginger, though the brown wasn’t giving up its spaces without a fight.

Tawny, maybe, Goldenflower thought. Or Morning. She could be a Morning. But Tawny feels more obvious…

She could come back to that. She had better ideas for the other two.

The weakest, runty and spotted, had more mottled brown and ginger. She was the smallest and the quietest; Goldenflower’s experience warned her to be ready for the worst. She didn’t let that forbid her from naming the kit. She should have a mighty name, something to make up for her size.

Leopard. He would have called you that.

And perhaps she shouldn’t have thought of what he would have wanted, but... how could she not? They’d discussed names before she had retreated into the nursery full-time. He’d loved the idea of a Leopardkit. That had been his favorite one out of all they’d talked about.

He loved you before you were born, she thought, pressing her nose to Leopardkit, who barely twitched in response. I know that was real. No one else has to.

Now, the tom…

Curse her sentimentality, but it was impossible not to think of him. He was a spitting image of his father, big and starkly-striped. He was going to be tall and powerful, she could see already. But perhaps not brutish; even as a newborn, his claws seemed mostly tucked in, barely grazing her stomach when he pushed harder for milk. They were long, still, like his, and his paws were massive.

He wasn’t getting Tiger, obviously. But something close, something fierce and prickly… shame Thornkit had taken that name already.

A name struck her, and she couldn’t think of another. Bramble. Bramble, with long, sharp stripes and long, sharp claws.

It was perfect. She could only pray no one figured out the source.

Drowsily, she returned to the pale molly, going over Tawny and Morning, back and forth, her exhaustion creeping in and tamping down her thoughts until she drifted off, with a vague image in her head of three little kits touching noses with their father, his amber eyes shining with love and pride.

Where was his soul now, she wondered…

---

He runs, paws scrambling for purchase on the rocky slope that borders the road. A shining silhouette blazes ahead of him and he ducks into the forest. Ferns and brush stand still as death as he races through them, mouth open, panting for air he no longer needs, amber eyes wild with fright.

Screams like roars follow him through the woods, light-figures easily keeping pace with him, creeping close to his tail as he stumbles and sprints with every bit of power he can channel to his legs. Whooping yowls and jovial caterwauls rattle his chest with horror.

How could they be chasing me? Were my intentions not noble? Didn’t I do the best for my Clan?

It wasn’t good enough.

His victims, drowned and sliced and crippled and gasping for air, flash in front of his eyes, glaring at him, nearly making him trip and fall as he tries to skid to a stop and dive to the side, away from them, away from their damning eyes.

This is a mistake. He only manages a few more steps before sun-bright figures cut off his path. He jerks sideways again, and backs away from the rounding line of Hunters encircling him. He’s surrounded on all sides by glowing warriors: some apprentices, few leaders—the best of the best, the strongest in life and most righteous in death, the ones who protect the territories from all ghostly dangers.

But…

No, this can’t be right. I’m no danger. Not like this. Not like—

The deputy flails about, scrambling for escape, some explanation, anything to get him out of this. There is none. The Hunters are stronger, larger than him. They hurt to look at, blazing as they do. They say nothing to him. Their eyes burn with rage.

Where is He?

Behind him, a searing light exiles what little darkness was left in the forest, the only sound now of a crackling fire. He is immediately pulled into gazing at the giant; it’d be sacrilege to refuse to acknowledge Him. His eyes squeeze shut—this is worse than looking at the sun—but again, he is forced to open them, eyes tearing up in agony as he looks upon the Endless Watcher.

“You disappoint Me, wraith,” the Lion rumbles, His voice shaking the ground and making the trees tremble. “Potential like yours has not been seen in a long time. You could have been the finest leader in generations, if you loved your Clan like you thought you did.”

The deputy’s mouth opens to no sound; his throat is dry as an autumn leaf.

“Destroying your Clanmates,” a Hunter adds coldly, a strangely familiar golden tom almost as sunny as Horoa Himself. “Ignoring your neighbors, wanting them to fall, though you’d never let yourself acknowledge that…”

“Leaving your own family to expose you,” another Hunter says, dark grey and small (standing taller than the deputy even so). She narrows her eyes that shine too bright for a mortal. “They will not rest easy for a long time. Is that what you wanted? Pain and grief, by your doing?”

The deputy barely manages to croak out, “My Lord, have mercy. Please—”

“Another said that, recently,” a tortoiseshell drawls. “The living didn’t heed him.” Her lip twitches as she dryly looks the deputy up and down, regarding him like the stringy remains of stale prey. “Neither did we.”

“Go peacefully,” the Lion growls, and the ground shakes under the deputy’s feet. “This we will give you. Offer your throat and fade to mist. You will not get anything else.”

The deputy trembles. He looks for any kindness, any empathy in the eyes of his undoing. There is none. Pathetically, kit-like in his huddling, he looks to Horoa again.

“By—” he swallows. “By Your teeth, then. It would be an honor, my Lord. Please…”

The Lion throws back His head with a thundering, hearty chuff. The sound is echoed by His Hunters, who shake their heads and give each other tickled looks, like they’re sharing a private joke. Horoa lowers His head again, gazing down at the deputy, His single eye blinding.

“None from ThunderClan will honor you,” He says. “Neither will I.”

The small dark grey molly bursts forward; her claws streak with light. A snap. A crash. Sparks tear open the mist of his flesh. The storm raging in his throat chokes back his words as it rends him apart.

In the heartbeat of a moment, in an eye amidst his agony, one quiet thought murmurs in her voice.

“They will never know your name, love.”

And then there is silence.

The vapor, split in two even wisps, disperses and fades, absorbed by the clean air of the forest. Horoa waves His tail, smoking at the tip, with satisfaction as His Hunters keep their eyes on the very last misty thread. It dissolves, and nothing remains. The Lion curtly nods, growls a chuff, turns and leaps into a gallop, His Titan-like feet hardly touching the ground. His followers race after Him, cheering again, searching for the next danger to protect the Clans from. Light encompasses them, like the sun is swallowing them up.

As they disappear, the forest’s natural light returns, followed by hesitant shadows. The cackle of flames dies, and birdsong carries on again, somewhat confused as to why it stopped. The woods, just for a bit, are beautifully warm with the echo of the sun’s heat.

The world continues on as if they were never there at all.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #epilogue #chapter #book two #arc one #burning hearts #and thats the book!#thank you all for reading along

55 notes · View notes

starlost-lix · 3 days

Text

finished book 2 of mdzs and OH MY GOSH I CANNOT WITH THE EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER I HAVE GONE THROUGH?!!?

THE YI CITY ARC???? POOR XIAO XINGCHEN AND SONG LAN 😭 idk its like xue yang is a psycho i find him kind of funny tho oops 😬 also sizhui is the cutest kid ever but smth seems weird about him like i feel like there’s smth important going on…

lan zhan and wei ying being absolutely dumb in love for each other like wwx sir u are full on spouting monologues and internal screaming over lwj how oblivious are u 😭 and lwj is so like cold but like not cold like i see u being jealous and protective 👏👏

idk if this is an unpopular opinion but i kind of really absolutely hate meng yao ik ppl like his character and want redemption but i highkey want to just see him get thrown off a cliff 😓😓 poor nie mingjue :((( also lan xichen i like him a lot but he highkey annoyed me bc of how blind he was

the ending 😩😩😩😩 no words that was a great cliffhanger

jin ling is such a lovely little angry little baby please can i adopt him 🥺🥺🥺

19 notes · View notes

thegodthief · 3 months

Text

84,979 words and I'm ready to throw all of them in the shitter. But this is why it's called a draft. Get the ideas down first and shave off the extra adjectives later.

#Keri is writing a book.#And is questioning if she should continue.#Book Two

8 notes · View notes

inhibitcomic · 7 months

Text

Still one of my favourite spreads in Book Two!! Inhibit is on Kickstarter right now if you want to order a couple of very good books.

#book two

16 notes · View notes

autumnbell32 · 4 months

Text

“Problem was, no one really liked a fixer…especially if they thought the fixer needed fixing from way back.”

-from, “Authority,” by Jeff Vandermeer

#the southern reach trilogy #jeff vandermeer #book two #reading #literature #books #these books read me #writing #writer

7 notes · View notes

charlizekkelly · 11 months

Text

his cyanic gaze surveyed her from head-to-toe, expression void of emotion. “Those deaths will look like child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you.”

“And…what would you do?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

Niko’s grin twisted into something ungodly, a depraved glee dappling his irises. “On whether I want to see your insides…or rip you apart piece by piece.”

—unedited excerpt from book 2 of Shadows of the Night by Charlize K. Kelly (me)

what do we think?

#shadows of the night #book two #the lost boys retelling #charlizekkelly #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #tlb #paul tlb #dwayne tlb #marko tlb #david tlb

28 notes · View notes

epnona-the-wisp · 9 months

Text

A scene from this story! I’ve got to write the end so that Sage won’t be trapped in the horrors anymore.

#original story #salt and light #paraportal #artists on tumblr #artorbis #book two #sage

14 notes · View notes

aesthetic-solar-space · 1 year

Text

13/30 - 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Page #s 290

04/15/2023-05/05/2023

Percy Jackson: The Sea Of Monsters 🌊 by Rick Riordan

So book two, I would rate this one equally overall to the first one I think if I were to really really think about it. Percy and Annabeth’s relationship growth from book one all the way through to the end of this book was beautiful and honestly I can’t wait for more. The ending also!! The (two) plot twist(s) that could honestly take the story in a bunch of different paths down the line. This are quickly becoming so much more exciting and addictive than I originally thought they would be.

28 notes · View notes

aurora-by-jacqui-natla · 9 months

Text

9. THE EGYPTIAN COVEN

THE NEXT DAY WAS A BIT BRIGHTER THAN IT WAS WHEN WE ARRIVED. I got to know the Denali Coven while we waited for more vampires to come.

The leader, Tanya, was born in ancient Slovakia. She was the first of Sasha's adoptive daughters. She was also Sasha's biological great-niece, and when Sasha yearned for companionship, she chose Tanya to join her. Within her first century as a vampire, Sasha added two more vampires to their family, Kate and Irina. They have been close as a family since then.

Kate, or Katrina, was an attendant—basically a bodyguard—to a highborn female of a warlike Slavic tribe. She was well-trained in her tribe's martial arts and was very protective of her mistress. Kate was guarding her on a caravan when Sasha attacked, along with her daughter Tanya. Sasha was so impressed by Kate's courage and determination to defend the caravan and the physical resemblance she had to Tanya that she changed her into a vampire. Kate quickly became loyal to Sasha and Tanya. Her defensive power began to develop within a decade.

Irina was the third vampire added to the coven. As a human, she was a pretty peasant girl living in a small farm community. She physically resembled Kate and Tanya, and Sasha decided to change her with the idea of adding a new sister to her 'daughters'. Irina, Tanya, and Kate loved their mother as much as she loved them.

Then, it all changed when Sasha's crime of creating an immortal child was revealed. She did not understand the reason behind Sasha's actions, but once the Volturi tested Tanya and her sisters' innocence and they were spared execution, she did understand why her mother had kept it secret from them. Their mother's death left the sisters traumatized, and as a result, they were purists of vampire laws.

Eleazar and Carmen were the last to join the Denali Coven.

Eleazar was originally from Spain, and as such is fluent in Spanish. He was born sometime during the 1700s, but I didn't know his exact date and birth year. The identity of his creator and the date he was changed remained a mystery to me.

Like Dad, he was given a place within the Volturi guard for his ability — like Joseph— to sense the special talents of others. His job was to detect if any threatening coven had any members with extra gifts and then pass that knowledge on to Aro. He would also be sent around the world to look for any human or vampire with useful talents to add to the coven. A gentle person by nature, he wasn't entirely happy with their methods, but he felt he was serving the greater good by working with those who would uphold the law.

He eventually met Carmen and instantly became her mate. They tried to balance his love life and his duties by living with Carmen while continuing to work for the Volturi, but because Carmen was troubled by the violence of his everyday life, Eleazar eventually asked for Aro's permission to leave the coven. Aro didn't like the idea but gave Eleazar his blessing, believing that he would willingly return to the guard if Aro ever needed him to (and he felt no need to hold on to his gift).

Eleazar and Carmen travelled nomadically for a while, looking for a more compassionate lifestyle. They stumbled across the Denali coven and were awed by their 'vegetarianism'. Tanya invited Eleazar and Carmen to stay with them and try out the lifestyle. They enjoyed each other's company so much that they made the situation permanent.

I couldn't imagine what they were going through with Irina. Having their coven member tell the Volturi of a crime that was never committed must have been conflicting for them. I don't know if their relationship will ever be the same.

I was out hunting in the woods with Jacob and Renesmee. Edward and Bella told me that she likes to hunt with Jacob. I don't know if Renesmee knew of Jacob imprinting on her. But she didn't seem to care. Jacob was in his wolf form and Renesmee was on top of him. I spotted an elk, caught it and killed it. She drank the blood from it.

"Jake, can we get chocolate?" She asked in her sweet voice.

Wolf Jacob replied with a nod.

"I wish I could have chocolate," I said, my tongue swirling around my teeth.

I couldn't eat food ever since I became a vampire. That did explain why the Cullens didn't eat much in school.

"What do you think it tastes like?" I asked her.

"Um... Chocolatey!" She squealed and I laughed; I was sure the wolf Jacob smiled a bit.

Then, I saw Bella running through the woods, her long brown hair waving. Renesmee jumped off Jacob and ran to her.

"Momma!" Renesmee's arms opened and Bella picked her up.

She hugged her mother tightly as Bella held her. Maybe that is how my mother would have hugged me. Bella looked over at Jacob and me.

"Another coven arrived," Bella declared.

Wolf Jacob stared at her with a stern look.

"They haven't hunted the area, Jake. Don't worry."

"The area?" I asked.

"The Quiletes and the Cullen have a peace treaty," she explained.

"How did that happen?"

"It's a long story. I'll show the Egyptian coven, my daughter."

The Egyptian coven? They sounded interesting.

I followed Bella and Renesmee to the Cullen residence. There I saw Edward, the Denali Coven, my family (except for Mum and Dad — probably hunting no doubt) and another group of vampires waiting outside of the house. Jacob returned to his human form and was not naked for once. I stood beside Bella who stood beside her husband.

I saw four beings looking at us: two men and two women. One man was a young boyish-looking vampire with midnight hair, olive pallor to his pale skin, and an oddly cheerful look. He stood at five foot seven inches tall and had crimson red eyes. He looked about the same age as Ayla. The girl beside him had olive-tone skin and her hair was heavy, straight and midnight-coloured; her eyes were also crimson red. She was a little bit shorter than the boyish vampire but seemed to be a tiny bit older than him.

Then, I saw a man standing behind them, towering over them slightly like a protective father. He had black hair and a slight olive pallor to his pale skin. He looked at us with his red eyes. Beside him, there was a beautiful woman. She had long, curly black hair and an olive tone to her pale skin, and was shorter than the three vampires.

"Is this the child?" The boyish vampire asked.

"Yes," Bella replied and he and the girl walked towards them.

Bella put Renesmee down and the child sauntered to them. They looked down at her and the boy knelt on the ground to her level.

"Hi, what's your name?" He asked her.

"Renesmee," she replied and they shook hands.

"I'm Benjamin," the boyish vampire introduced himself and his head turned to the girl. "And this is Tia."

Then, Renesmee placed her hand on his cheek and showed him her memory. Her birth. Her origin. She freed her hand from his cheek and Benjamin grabbed her hand and clamped her hand in his own hands. Then, his hands opened and dark brown earthly dust emerged from her hand and Benjamin swirled it around with his right hand. My mouth gapped open and my gold eyes widened. The earthly dust, spirling, flew from her small hand.

"Benjamin can influence the elements," I heard Edward explaining.

"I hope Violet's not getting jealous," Joseph said, chuckling.

"I'm not," I replied, my voice pitched a little bit higher. "I mean, I can turn invisible and I can do this—."

I shot my hand at a little tree stump and a purple blast flew out and hit it. Then, a purple flame emerged on the tree stump. I stared at the flame, puzzled by it. That never happened. Then, Benjamin's hands aimed at the nearest lake and the water rose and zoomed to the flame. The water landed on the flame and the mist replaced the flame. I turned around to see the vampires — and Jacob — looking at me with amazement and Renesmee laughing.

"Since when can you do that?" Bella asked.

"It's a long and complicated story," I said. "It was after the wedding and I found out that Dina and Ayla are werewolves—."

"Children of the Moon," Edward jumped in.

"They're still here?" The tall olive vampire asked, a hint of surprise in his tone.

"What do you mean, still here?" I asked him.

"The last time I've heard, the Volturi exterminated all of them."

"Well," I shrugged my shoulders. "Not them."

"And she nearly brought a building down from that blast," I heard Eleazar adding to the conversation. "It's a rare thing to have."

"That is?"

"A single vampire with multiple gifts."

"Who created you?" Tia enquired, slowly approaching Benjamin.

"A vampire named Victoria," I answered bitterly. "As a part of a revenging army. And then I joined this coven."

I pointed to my family. The Egyptian coven turned their heads and saw them. Then, the olive male's face dropped; I saw Mum and Dad coming back.

"How was the hunt?" Simon was the first to ask.

"Very well," Mum replied. "We've got two deers each."

Then, Dad turned his gaze to the olive male. His gold orbs met the red ones and his lips pursed shut. The male looked back at Dad and his red eyes sternly glared at him.

"Amun," Dad greeted him and looked at the beautiful woman. "Kebi."

The woman, Kebi, bowed her head.

"Gabriel," the male, Amun, spoke.

So they knew each other? Are they good friends or didn't they like each other? Either way, they acknowledged each other.

"I see Aro didn't need you anymore," Amun said with a little smile on his face.

"I left," Dad let out a small growl.

"Everyone knows you can't leave the Volturi easily. They would throw them away or dispose of them."

There was silence between them. What were they saying? What did Amun mean that we can't leave them easily? Did Dad leave because of the disgusting idea of taking a human life just to live? What happened with Dad and the Volturi?

Before I could ask, a loud sound of screeching invaded the woods.

Continue to 10. THE AMAZON COVEN

13 notes · View notes

lokilickedme · 1 year

Link

Hesitant to implicate herself in what promised to escalate into a fatal argument, Holly shrugged - then caught a glimpse of Keene staring at her intently from across the table. A good man she thought to herself. Maybe not a human and maybe a bit too arbitrarily strong willed where his partner was concerned, but still a good man, mostly. A good man that seemed stupidly determined to win this elbows thing even if it resulted in bloodshed, which seemed to her just a bit more unmannerly than the elbows issue could ever be. And on the other side of the table… The new arrival. The bad one. The one whose name was whispered on tremulous breath with a nervous glance cast into the shadows. The one even Keene didn’t mention if he didn’t have to. Baltho.

Book Two is beginning! Chapter 1 is now up :)

#The Strada Series #Hiddleston fic #Gandy fic #new fic #sequel #Book Two

32 notes · View notes

redux-iterum · 6 months

Text

Burning Hearts: Chapter Thirty-Two

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Screaming woke him up. Frostfur’s screams.

Fireheart jumped to his feet before his eyes were even open, and when they did open they were greeted with blinding sunlight and a sea of cats outside, spreading out to the various dens. The air was thick with rogue-scent.

Before he could make another move, several scarred strangers poured into the warriors’ den. He was knocked over and trampled by heavy feet, barely avoiding having the wind stomped out of him by holding his breath. The den immediately lit up with screeches and yowls. Those who weren’t awake yet were grabbed by their scruffs and hauled off their nests, while the more alert were already tackling the intruders, shoving back against the wave and forcing them backwards into the open.

Fireheart managed to get up again and duck past a black cat rolling with Mousefur in her grip, charging into the open, followed by his Clanmates. They rushed by him and lunged for the nearest rogue, roaring challenges. The rogues met them easily, almost preemptively turning to face the cat closing in on them and catching them, rolling and whirling in clouds of fur and claws.

But— hang on. Every way Fireheart looked, the rogues were more biting and batting than really using their claws. Their faces had the look of apprehension more than anger or malice.

Like they’re not even trying.

On instinct, Fireheart’s eyes darted to the camp entrance. A large, dark brown tail was slipping through the tunnel.

“No!” Fireheart dove through the crowd, sprinting after the tail, but before he could take more than a few steps, he was knocked over again. This time, he was pinned to the ground, and no thrashing he did could get the weight off. He glared up at his attacker, a dark ginger tom who returned his anger with sullen boredom.

“Sorry, kid,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. Orders.”

“Get off him!”

The tom looked up in mild surprise before a grey blur barreled into him and sent him flying into the crowd of fighters. Fireheart wasted no time in scrambling upright, greeted by a bristling Greystripe.

“He just left camp!” Fireheart shouted over the chaos.

“Get to him!” Ravenwing slipped past Lizardtail wrestling with a tortoiseshell and started for the tunnel. “We’ll cover you!”

Greystripe nodded. “Just give us time to get there too.”

A scream of rage and blood hit Fireheart’s ear. He turned his head; Goldenflower had left the nursery and was slashing the face of another molly who was dancing around her, looking very uneager to fight the matriarch.

“Go!” Ravenwing yelled. “She’ll be fine! They’re not hurting anyone!”

Wrenching his eyes away, Fireheart ran for the entrance. Several times he was shoved or had to stop to let a pair of fighters pass, and a couple more cats leaped for him, only to be met with Ravenwing or Greystripe tackling them out of the way. Even so, it seemed to take an entire season to reach the entrance. With no cats on him, Fireheart pushed through and made the sharpest turn anyone could for Bluestar’s den.

No cats were outside, but voices could be heard coming from there.

“Tigerclaw, let me through!” Bluestar snarled. “You aren’t stopping me!”

Tigerclaw’s voice now, muted. “I’m sorry.”

Bluestar faltered. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Tigerclaw said louder, his voice almost pained. “I’m so sorry, Bluestar. This is for the good of ThunderClan.”

Fireheart reached the den just as a screech was cut off and turned into chokes. The lichen curtain flapped and he was greeted with the back of Tigerclaw, with Bluestar thrashing and spitting on the ground. Tigerclaw’s teeth were on her throat, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

“DON’T!” Fireheart bellowed, charging right into his father’s back legs.

The surprise attack did the trick; Tigerclaw’s back end buckled and he released Bluestar, turning around in alarm as Bluestar coughed and wheezed, clawing the ground to pull herself away from him. Blazing amber eyes met an intense, deep green. The fire in the amber went out and Tigerclaw’s mouth opened wordlessly.

Fireheart stood back up, tail lashing and every hair on his back skyward with an anger he was trying to force himself to feel.

“I know,” he said, throat tight enough to barely let him speak. “I know everything.”

Slowly, Tigerclaw’s face fell.

“Fireheart!”

He didn’t take his eyes off of Tigerclaw, but he nodded in acknowledgement as Greystripe and Ravenwing came around the corner and ducked into the leader’s den, panting angrily. Greystripe wasted no time in leaping at Tigerclaw, fangs bared and claws extended in as wide a stretch as a cat’s paw could get. Even being a little shorter than Tigerclaw, his weight worked it out for him—Tigerclaw was knocked down with a coughed grunt and Greystripe pinned him down, a dog’s snarl on his face.

“You’re paying for Lionface,” he ground out through his teeth.

Tigerclaw offered no argument. He lay still, his eyes shut in a grimace.

“You’re paying for everyone,” Ravenwing said, glaring the deputy down. “You disgusting excuse for a cat, calling yourself a warrior.”

Fireheart’s eyes turned to Ravenwing now in surprise. His friend was bristling too. Even as calm as he sounded, his face was cold, steely anger, eyes narrowed and tail twitching. Fireheart didn’t comment. He instead went around Greystripe and bent close to Bluestar, who was getting her breath back.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low and stupidly gentle.

Bluestar’s throat was bleeding and her breath rough and wet, but she slowly got to her feet with a nod barely restraining fury. “Thank you.”

A yowl sounding suspiciously like a signal-cry sounded off. Outside, paws shoved through ferns and brush. Ravenwing poked his head outside and sighed in relief.

“They’re retreating,” he said when he brought his head in again. “I’ll grab guards. Keep him pinned, Greystripe.”

Greystripe grunted, his eyes firmly fixed on Tigerclaw’s morose face.

Bluestar coughed again and drew in a ragged breath. Fireheart leaned against her as softly as he could, which she returned with a haggard sigh.

Outside, confused conversation drew closer, Ravenwing’s voice sharp and direct.

“Don’t let him get away, for all that you’re worth,” he said. “Get him into camp immediately.”

Whitecloud’s head parted the lichen, followed by Dustpelt. Their faces scrunched up in further confusion at the scene before them.

“What in the world…?” Dustpelt squinted.

“Come help us,” Fireheart said quietly. “Tigerclaw just tried to kill Bluestar.”

Dustpelt’s eyes flew open wide. He didn’t ask questions, thankfully, just stepped into the crowded den. Greystripe lifted his weight off of Tigerclaw and backed up, giving the tabby a hard shove with his paw and forcing him to his feet. Tigerclaw made no effort to defend himself or run, just dragged his feet along after Whitecloud and Dustpelt, Greystripe close at his back and Ravenwing at his side.

Fireheart looked up at Bluestar silently. She didn’t meet his eyes, just sighed again, this time more guttural, and stood, following the patrol out. Fireheart’s stomach went queasy as he followed her.

Camp was, thank the stars, only sparsely dotted with blood. Most cats had slight nicks on their ears or cuts on their faces and paws that they were grooming away. Some were remarking to each other about the strange attack. Those remarks trailed off as Tigerclaw was brought to the ground in front of the meeting stump, which Bluestar jumped up onto. At her beckoning tail, Fireheart, Greystripe and Ravenwing went to stand at its side, Ravenwing’s jaw tense and Greystripe still glowering at Tigerclaw. The gathering crowd traded puzzled looks that were quickly changing to worried ones at the anger on Bluestar’s face.

When everyone was gathered, Bluestar spoke. “Is everyone alright? Are we all alive?” Confirmations peppered through the crowd and she stood tall. “Then we can get directly to the point.” She grit her teeth. “Our deputy just made an attempt on my life.”

Baffled, disbelieving shock rippled through camp. Goldenflower was making her way around the crowd, her face frightened and struggling to comprehend. Fireheart’s chest ached for her.

“It was brought to my attention last night that he had an interest in getting rid of me,” Bluestar went on. “He’s tried multiple times, as a matter of fact.” She looked down at the younger warriors. “If you three would care to elaborate?”

With a heavy heart, and at her nod, Fireheart jumped up onto the stump, where she dropped off to let Greystripe and Ravenwing on as well. With so many eyes on him, Fireheart was vaguely reminded of when he was first brought into the Clan, with skeptical gazes and suspicious squints. He’d give anything for this to just be appraising his value again.

Before he could open his mouth, Ravenwing straightened up and spoke, his voice as even and clear as when he had told Theful’s story.

“Tigerclaw has been murdering his way up the ranks for months now,” he said. “First, he killed Redtail. When everyone was fighting in WindClan territory, he pushed Redtail into the Gorge and said that a rogue did it.”

“Then Lionface became deputy,” Greystripe said, teeth clenched. “And Tigerclaw arranged to have rogues kill him.” He burned a hole in Tigerclaw’s head as he glared down at him. “And I’ll bet you also arranged to have the rogues attack us tonight as cover for Bluestar, didn’t you?”

Ravenwing laid a tail on Greystripe’s side, quieting him. He added, “Then when he was deputy, the next step was to get rid of Bluestar. He tried a poisoned rat-” Swiftpaw recoiled out of the corner of Fireheart’s eye. “-but that failed. Twice he called her to the border for a ‘scent’, and twice someone else nearly died instead of her. First Cinderpaw, and then Fireheart.” He leaned forward a little to look at Fireheart past Greystripe. “And you saw the rogues that we were told by kittypets were the ones to kill Lionface.”

Fireheart nodded glumly.

“Wait—” Willowpelt bristled. “Cinderpaw was crippled because—”

“Because Tigerclaw wanted to get Bluestar to be hit by a car, we can presume,” Ravenwing said. “Or at least kill her himself and then push her body onto the road to make it look like she was hit.”

Willowpelt started shaking violently, her expression a terrible mix of rage and grief.

“And those rogues Fireheart saw, they were probably supposed to kill her too. But Fireheart got there instead, and Tigerclaw conveniently caught him and brought him back home before he could get hurt.” Ravenwing’s voice rang out in the dead silent clearing. “And those very same rogues tried to kill Greystripe a few nights ago. Greystripe can confirm, they verbally identified him and targeted him.”

“It’s true,” Greystripe said darkly. “They said ‘that’s him, the big grey one’, and started cutting me up.”

A wave of gasps and exclamations.

“That– that can’t be,” Sandstorm said, her voice unusually shaky. “Why would he ever want you and the others dead?”

Greystripe and Ravenwing looked at Fireheart, who took a breath, prayed for composure, and opened his mouth.

“Because he considers all of them traitors,” he said, soft despite his efforts to speak clearly and loudly. “Redtail wanted to help ShadowClan, and Lionface wanted to help RiverClan. Bluestar agreed to both of these things and has helped the other Clans out otherwise, and Greystripe had kits with an outsider. We talked last night.” He felt rather than saw Tigerclaw flinch and stare at him in betrayal, but forced himself to continue. “He cares for ThunderClan and wants us to grow and be strong. Having anything to do with the other Clans gets in the way of that. He’s ready to kill a few cats to save the majority.” His ears folded back against his head. “Or, at least, I hope he wants to save the majority.”

Whitecloud, stunned, stared at Tigerclaw. “Is this… is this true?”

Tigerclaw didn’t say anything for a long, horribly tense moment, his head down. Slowly, he lifted it and met the eyes of his Clanmates.

“Yes,” he said.

The crowd collectively jolted with wordless shouts of anger and horror. Tigerclaw stood and waited for the noise to die down to speak—his tone, Fireheart noted with some anguish, was that of a father soothing a frightened kitten.

“This Clan is a magnificent collection of the finest warriors who ever lived,” he said. “But we’ve lost our way with our leadership being who it is and was. Bluestar is a danger to ThunderClan, giving away our prey and time and effort to strangers who would turn their backs on us or feed us to foxes the instant we’re no longer useful to them. We need to stand alone, become stronger and wiser than any colony out there in the world. Wasting even a moment on the other Clans puts us all at risk.”

“By giving them skinny wrens?” Greystripe snapped. “By making friends with cats who don’t stand a chance against us?”

“You’ve forgotten that we’re already the strongest Clan of the four,” Ravenwing agreed, eyes burning. “And you know what? Even if we weren’t, who cares? They’re cats like us, aren’t they? I should have been hunting for them too.” He bent his head down a little in Tigerclaw’s direction. “Or would you have me murdered along with Greystripe?”

“Funny that you never tried to kill Fireheart, despite all that he’s done,” Greystripe continued. “I guess your worldview has a few blindspots when it’s convenient for you, doesn’t it?”

Tigerclaw twisted his head and looked up at Fireheart. Fireheart had the sudden urge to shut his eyes and bury his face in his paws. Out of the corner of his eye, Cinderpaw fell against her brother, aghast, and Yellowfang bristled enough to outsize her apprentice.

“I’ll crush your skull!” she roared, and surged forward as if she didn’t have a limp. Teaselfoot and Lizardtail dove in her way and barely managed to restrain her until Cinderpaw weakly touched her paw to Yellowfang’s side and pulled at her. Yellowfang stopped her struggles, but the murder was still in her burning orange eyes as she stepped back to stand with Cinderpaw.

Tigerclaw’s face was baffled as he looked between each of his Clanmates, whose shock was turning to rage. Unsteadily, he said, “I– I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I had to put a stop to them, for ThunderClan. It grieves me that anyone had to die at all. And Cinderpaw, I never wanted her to—”

“But she did,” Bluestar said. “And you did, even if you ‘didn’t want to’.”

“How could you?!” Brindleface cried from the back of the crowd. “How many of us were you going to kill to get what you wanted?!”

Frostfur shoved her way through the crowd, snarling, “My mate! My litter’s father! For nothing!”

Something nudged Fireheart. He looked to see Bluestar retracting her paw and gesturing for him to leave the stump. He obeyed, Greystripe and Ravenwing following while Bluestar took their place. They turned and stood facing Tigerclaw. Fireheart slouched on the edge of the crowd, just close enough to see Tigerclaw’s self-doubt start to show up on his face.

“Enough of this,” Bluestar said. “Whatever good you could have done, you’ve committed so much worse. You’ve pretended to be loyal all this time, when you’ve murdered for power. That’s the truth of it, Tigerclaw—you killed to become leader. You don’t have a drop of good will in you. Not any that hasn’t been swallowed whole by your crimes.” She lifted her head and spoke louder. “Keeping this cat alive is a risk to all of us, and I refuse to not make him pay for what he’s done. And s—”

She stopped, her mouth halfway open. For just an instant, the fury in her eyes was doused, a heavy pain replacing it. For just an instant, her face was that of a wounded bird, lost and frightened of whatever they saw before them. Fireheart watched in grieved fascination as his mentor shut her mouth, swallowed hard enough to force a large lump down her throat, and continued, even though her words were fighting valiantly to hide their trembles and that fury was barely lighting her eyes again.

“And so I call upon StarClan to grant me the power I have never wanted to use,” she said, quiet, before forcing her voice to echo through the camp. “As punishment for his uncountable, unimaginably horrible crimes, I erase the name ‘Tigerclaw’ from the hearts and memories of ThunderClan, and I sentence this scourge to death.” She heaved out the tail end of a shaky breath and looked down at her Clan. “Do we have volunteers to assist in the execution?”

A moment of silence, before Greystripe looked up at her and said, “Me.”

“And me,” Frostfur said.

“I’ll do it, too,” Willowpelt said, a storm in her eyes.

Dustpelt flexed his claws. “Me as well.”

Speckletail, standing next to Goldenflower, nodded curtly. “Count me in, too.”

The deputy stared at them, his shock turning to fear. His mouth moved multiple times as he tried to get words out before he finally managed, “You can’t– you can’t mean that. I’ve done everything in my life for all of you– I can be a better leader than her, I can make up for—”

“Rot, you can!” Dustpelt took a step forward, somehow looming over the deputy despite being considerably smaller. “You murdered my mentor, too! And your own apprentice’s father! How can you POSSIBLY make up for that?!”

The deputy had nothing. He trembled, looking around wildly for help, only to be met with glares and wrinkled muzzles.

“Goldenflower, speak for me,” he said, turning to his mate and stretching out a paw.

She flinched away from him, staring at him in horror.

“My brother…” she whispered.

The deputy withdrew his paw, looking genuinely hurt, before his gaze caught his uncle. “Halftail…”

The dark tabby narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

As soon as the deputy’s increasingly frantic eyes landed on Sandstorm, he opened his mouth. Before he could speak, Sandstorm silently marched up to him, raised a paw with unsheathed claws and slashed across his face. Blood-drops hit the ground and the deputy, disbelieving, pawed at the wound where several slash marks barely missed his eyes and spread over his nose and muzzle.

“Let’s not waste any time,” Bluestar said as Sandstorm backed away with cold fury in her eyes. “Surround him and escort him outside. No one needs to see this.”

“Make it slow,” Yellowfang ground out.

Willowpelt met the seer’s eyes and nodded darkly. She and the other volunteers made a ring around the deputy, the crowd spacing out to give them room, and started the march towards the entrance.

The deputy walked silently, but as he reached Fireheart, he stopped. He looked down at the only son that he was ever going to live to see, his eyes foggy and afraid.

Fireheart couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. All he could do was meet the deputy’s eyes and try to communicate the pain and grief he was feeling.

I’m sorry, he thought, hoping the deputy heard. I’m more sorry than you could ever know.

The deputy didn’t hear. He hung his head low, his face creased with shame.

Greystripe nudged him hard enough to almost topple him. “Move it.”

The deputy said nothing. Tail dragging on the floor, he walked with the party on the path to his death.

Fireheart watched him go. He still couldn’t say a word.

#warrior cats #redux iterum #iterum #chapter #chapter thirty two #book two #arc one #burning hearts #HERE WE GOOOOOOO

52 notes · View notes