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clangenrising · 1 month

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Month 13 - Newleaf

“Ghost!” shouting and the clattering sound of someone scrambling up the loose metal roof of the shed woke Ghost up from his sleep with a start. He groaned, the sudden movement tugging at the stiff scar-flesh on his side. “Ghost! Ghost, are you here?!”

“Yes!” he shouted back, sounding like a poked bear. Groaning again, he stood and slipped out from his nap spot tucked in between two warm, silver vents and onto the roof proper. He squinted at the ginger shape hauling itself over the edge of the roof, his left eye still mostly swollen shut from the hot and tender scarring on his cheek. Once she stood, he recognized Lizzie from her alert and dutiful posture, although he noted the way her pupils were blown wide and her tail was half bristled.

“Sorry to wake you, sir!” she said loudly. “I have urgent news!”

“What is it?” he asked, running his tongue over his chest fur tiredly. He really didn’t want to have more problems to deal with right now and her natural volume wasn’t helping his ever present headache.

“There are wild cats in the city!” she reported and he immediately looked up.

“Have they killed anyone?” he asked, heart starting to pound.

“No, sir, rumor has it they’re here to talk to Razor!”

Ghost sighed in disappointment. “This won’t end well…” he grumbled. “How many of them?”

“Two, sir, both elderly she-cats,” said Lizzie.

“What?” His fur bristled.

“Two elderly she-cats, sir,” the girl repeated, her eyes darting up to the places where his ears used to be. Milo had taken extra satisfaction in tearing each of them to shredded stumps.

Ghost shook his head to get a grip. “Right. What did they look like?”

“Um,” Lizzie hesitated thoughtfully. “The bigger one was white and grey, the smaller one all grey.”

“Shit,” Ghost cussed, lurching towards the edge of the roof with a brisk but wobbly walk. “And you said they were going to see Razor?”

“Yes, sir,” Lizzie said. He could hear the confusion in her voice, the question she held back. Jagg would have asked it, he thought, ‘do they mean something to you?’ He thanked the Folk for Lizzie’s obedient nature.

“Thank you, Lizzie,” he said, leaping down onto the roof of the shed. It rattled loudly, making him wince, and he quickly bounded from there to the ground. He didn’t wait for her to respond or follow, he just started moving.

What was she doing here? The description could only be Miss Smoke but he had no idea what business she would have with Razor. Had she come to see him instead and been intercepted? Were the Clans surrendering? Either way, he knew that she was not going to be safe until she left the city. His muscles burned in protest as he darted across roads and under fences, cutting the shortest path he could to Razor’s yard.

He slowed right before he reached the hedges and peered through the leaves. Razor was lounging on the edge of the slightly raised deck, Gingersnap sitting bolt upright behind him. Tiger sat close by on the grass and ahead of them stood Sardine and Smokyrose, another Clan cat Ghost couldn’t name close behind.

Smokyrose was speaking. “-conditions for peace. If you have a list of terms, I can bring it back to Goldenstar and we can start moving towards an equitable solution.” She sounded unsure of herself but trying her best.

“Hmm,” Razor said, regarding her with slit pupils and a tail twitching with interest. “I’d love to speak to Goldenstar myself. Would that be possible?”

Smokyrose nodded, getting a little bolder. “It’s definitely a possibility. If you give me a time and place I can try and arrange a meeting.” She seemed so naively unaware of Razor’s true intentions. Something inside Ghost kicked in to high gear and he found himself striding out towards the gathered cats. All eyes turned to him, Razor’s narrowing darkly.

Smokyrose gasped, eyes going wide. “Ghost! Oh, Stars, what happened to you?” She hurried in his direction, ears pressed back, gaze flickering over every bruised and battered inch of him.

“Uh,” he didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure what his plan had been, only knew that he couldn’t leave her alone with Razor any longer. He watched the tom’s face, paralyzed, as Smokyrose came to hover around him. Razor smiled.

“I didn’t realize you two were acquainted,” he said. Ghost heard the dangerous interest in his voice but Smokyrose, bless her soul, didn’t know any better.

She turned back to him and said, “Oh, yes. Ghost and I are-” she paused, looking back at him, and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, “we know each other.” Guilt sank its claws into his throat and pulled down until it was tight and painful to swallow.

“Is that so?” mused Sardine.

“Yes,” Ghost said carefully. He looked at Smokyrose, her pretty face pinched in a worried pout, and whispered, “Miss Smoke, you really shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe.”

“Not safe?” she whispered back, louder than he would have liked. “Ghost, what happened to you?”

“Let me explain,” Razor said, leaping down onto the grass. “Come here, both of you.” He beckoned with a paw as if he were going to tell them a casual secret. Smokyrose hesitated, eyes on Ghost, and Razor insisted with a, “Come onnn, it’s alright.”

The other Clan cat growled softly, tail starting to lash. Gingersnap looked like a deer in headlights, her tail curled tightly against her body, her eyes wide, ears pressed against her skull. Ghost glanced at her briefly and she shook her head so subtly he almost missed it. Unfortunately, Smokyrose was already on her way over. Ghost followed, trying to stick close to her.

As they reached Razor, he put his tail around Smokyrose, making eye contact with Ghost as he did. “You see, Ghost and I had a bit of a disagreement because a little birdie told me he was trying to steal my girl. This was our way of settling things, although, I’ll admit, I’m still a bit angry with him.” His tone was light and playful but it sent fear straight through Ghost’s heart.

Smokyrose recoiled in terror. “Y-you did this to him?” Razor’s paw wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her back into him. Ghost’s jaw tensed possessively.

“Me and a few friends of mine,” Razor said nonchalantly. “He just doesn’t listen if you ask him nicely.”

“Razor,” Ghost tried, voice sounding small as it squeezed its way out of his throat. “Again, I’m sorry about all of that. But she has nothing to do with this.”

“I don’t like your tone,” Razor growled. “But it’s alright. I’ve thought of something that will put the whole dispute to bed.”

Ghost hesitated. He didn’t know where this was going but he didn’t like it. “What’s that?”

Razor smirked victoriously. “This,” he said. In a blur of movement, his other paw came up to wrap around Smokyrose’s chest. The force of the movement knocked her backwards, onto the ground, and Razor followed her, teeth flashing. Smokyrose screamed.

“Don’t-!” Ghost tried but it was too late.

Razor had his teeth clenched around her neck, one of his canines poking through the soft flesh under her chin, and with a sharp twist of his head there was a nasty snap of bone. Smokyrose choked out a cry of pain, blinking back tears. Razor adjusted his grip and twisted again, her neck giving another disgusting crunch. Her body went limp, the only movement a feeble twitching in her feet.

Razor dropped the body to the grass and licked his lips. “There,” he said, “now we’re even.”

Across the yard, the second Clan cat took off in a sprint for the fence. Sardine yowled and lunged after her but she leaped nimbly out of his claws and disappeared through the shrubs.

“Dammit!” hissed Sardine. He looked back at Razor, a simmering anger slipping through his mask.

“Well, get after her!” Razor bellowed, “she could be useful!”

“Of course,” Sardine smiled, tail lashing bitterly, then he took off after her.

“You too,” Razor snapped at Tiger. The ginger tabby growled but heaved himself to his feet and bounded after them.

“Razor, how is this even!?” Ghost cried, unable to look at the cooling corpse at his feet. He was furious and queasy and tired and distraught. His mind was searching for something he could have done differently, some way she could have survived. If you hadn’t arrived, it said, he would have sent her home just fine.

“You went after my girl, I went after yours,” Razor snorted, prodding the body.

“You killed her!”

“So?” Razor narrowed his eyes. “She was a savage! She deserved it. Besides, I’m sure you have plenty of other girls who are just fine.”

Ghost couldn’t muster a retort.

“Now get rid of this thing,” Razor said curtly. “I don’t want my Folk finding it when they get home.” He turned away and strode back towards the deck, leaving Ghost to stare down at the silent scream etched onto Smokyrose’s features, the unnatural angle of her head.

Distantly, he heard Razor saying, “I’m sorry you had to see that, dear.”

“I feel sick,” Gingersnap said softly. “I think I want to go home.”

“I’ll walk you,” said Razor.

Ghost looked up just in time to catch Gingersnap looking at him, horrified. She quickly ducked her head and slipped out of the garden at Razor’s side, leaving Ghost alone with the body. He stared numbly for a long time.

This is what he got for caring, wasn’t it? If he’d shut Smokyrose out of his heart, if he’d stayed away, she wouldn’t have died and they both could have gone on with their miserable lives. His kits were orphans now. Well… they were practically orphans. They’d be better off orphans. It wasn’t like he would have been a good father anyway.

He scoffed, laughing as he tilted his face to the sky. Who was he kidding? Pretending he was going to step up and be there. He was the same as he ever was, a solitary tom wishing for something he wasn’t brave enough to hold onto. He had been foolish to even think he was capable of changing.

He bent down and took the body by the scruff, moving roughly to pull it from the garden and into some dark alley or abandoned side street. The Folk would find it and take it away and the rest of his decency with it. Good. He was better off this way.

UPDATES: - Smokyrose is murdered by Razor. - Songdust goes missing.

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clangenrising · 2 months

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Month 12 - Leafbare

Time was hard to hold onto these days. Scorch blinked and suddenly spring had arrived, cautiously thawing out the gardens and poking its flowers up through the soil. If she thought back, she could remember that she had spent the time studying to become an interpreter in between visits from Razor but the actual experiences of those moments tended to feel fuzzy and loose. She was grateful that she somehow managed to hold onto the knowledge of interpreting.

The act fascinated her. Each Name Charm was marked with symbols that the Folk used to convey meaning and slowly, she was learning to interpret it. Confined in her house as she was, Portia wasn’t able to do much teaching so she had put a young molly named Marmalade in charge of teaching Scorch how to understand the symbols.

Marmalade took Scorch through the neighborhood, usually with another cat along to ‘escort’, and showed her the symbols in different places. Now that they were pointed out to her, Scorch couldn’t stop seeing them. They were on the corner poles and the fronts of houses and the sides of cars and nearly every wall in the downtown area had some cluster of them somewhere. Marmalade would teach her what they said and then teach her how each symbol made up a piece of the meaning. She learned how to recognize the individual symbols wherever they appeared in the clusters and how there were two versions of each symbol for some reason.

It was honestly exciting. She couldn’t believe that all her life there had been meaning spread across the surface of the world and she hadn’t even known. When she was at home, when time was the most solid, she would wander around, discovering all of the different symbols in her home and trying to interpret them. They were everywhere, on the food boxes and her dish and flashing across the magic window that her Folk would watch and the pages in the kits’ rooms and the warm thing the adult human pawed at on her lap and even though Scorch didn’t know what some of the words meant, she knew their pieces and that felt like power.

It wasn’t power that helped her much, though. Being an Interpreter did come with a certain amount of prestige. She and Marmalade were sometimes sent to deliver blessings from the Folk. They would go to cats who were ill in their homes or to new mothers and their kittens and bestow gifts upon them. Cats always thanked them and looked up at them with worshipful gazes. They parted to allow them through. Chaff asked them for blessings as they passed and thanked them profusely when Marmalade bid them “be well.” Yes, there was definitely power there, but it never did anything to get rid of the babysitters that followed her everywhere she went.

And it never stopped Razor from calling on her.

Today, after an Interpreters’ meeting in Portia’s garden, he had arrived to collect her, all toothy smiles and pet names and suffocating touches. She purred and fell in beside him and let go of her grasp on time. He’d invited her to accompany him to another meeting, this one about the warfront, and she had agreed.

Now she found herself draped against his side as he lounged in the grass of his own backyard. Several toms sat around in a circle, discussing strategy. All of them, except for Ghost, were Exalted.

“Hunting operations are continuing as planned,” Oreo was saying. “We’ll have to increase our presence, though, if we want to account for spring prey numbers.”

“Do you think we’ll still be able to starve them out?” Razor asked thoughtfully.

“I do,” Oreo nodded. “The Chaff are hungry enough, the only problem is the risk of getting attacked by wild cats. We need to find a way to make it seem like the threat is minimal if we want them hunting in droves.”

Ghost cleared his throat and said, “From what my cats have been saying, most encounters can end without bloodshed as long as we don’t antagonize the Clans. If a cat apologizes and leaves they’ll get a torn ear at most. If you’d like, I can spread the word about-”

“No,” Razor rumbled darkly and Scorch felt her throat tighten. “No, we’re not going to teach the Chaff that they should run from these savages. We won’t show weakness like that when that territory is our right.”

“But, sir,” Ghost shifted uncomfortably, “most of my cats aren’t fighters.”

“Then pair them with fighters,” Razor said as if it were obvious. “If they need protection, give it to them.”

Ghost’s throat labored for a moment before he said, “Yes, sir.”

“I think it might also be a good idea to take a more proactive approach,” said Sardine, a younger tom who had only recently been allowed into these kinds of meetings. “You know what they say: the best defense is a good offense.”

Razor smiled and nodded in his direction. “I’m listening.” Scorch listened too, with bated breath.

Sardine continued. “Part of the reason the Slaughter of Sycamore was such a decisive loss was because our position wasn’t easily defensible. The wild cats had the home turf advantage and, given their surprisingly large numbers, I reason they must have had somewhere to organize themselves before the attack. If we could take that location for ourselves, we would have a much stronger foothold from which to orchestrate our campaign. We could even move a number of chaff to the front full time.”

Scorch repressed a shiver as the image of Razor and his followers carving their way through RisingClan’s camp flashed through her mind. The calm, detached manner in which Sardine said it rubbed her fur the wrong way. It was almost like he didn’t care that he was toying with the lives of cats on both sides.

“And how would you propose we do that?” frowned Tiger, his muscles rippling under his pelt as he shifted forward. “We have no idea how far that location might be and clearly inching our way bit by bit doesn’t work.”

“It could,” Oreo countered. “Another big reason we lost that battle was because of the snow storm and we’ll have all summer to retake that ground.”

“We’ll still be out in the open,” Tiger growled. “I don’t like it.”

“Please,” Razor said, his chest rumbling smoothly against Scorch’s side, “I’m sure Sardine has a plan. Don’t you?” He tilted his head to regard the young cat and Scorch heard the familiar undertone in his voice that said ‘this is a test.’

Sardine smiled and said, “I do. I propose we form strike teams of three to six cats and wait for the ‘border patrols’ to come by then kill as many cats as we can.” Scorch swallowed. “Soon enough, their numbers will weaken and falter and we will be able to find and clear out one of their bases and take it for our own, thus acquiring a proper encampment from which to stage our own assault.”

“Not a bad strategy,” Razor complimented and one of Sardine’s ears twitched in satisfaction. “What do we think, boys?” He looked around the circle, one brow raised. Scorch did likewise, trying to keep her expression passive as she judged their reactions.

“It could work…” Oreo hummed skeptically.

Ghost shifted, a grimace on his face, and said, “This all assumes that they have a fortified location we could use. There’s no way to know if that's the case. They could live in scattered nests or isolated burrows.”

“Who cares,” Tiger brushed him off. “Even if there isn’t some central location we can take over, I think the effort put into the strike teams would be worth it.” He smirked and looked at Razor. “I wouldn’t mind the opportunity for a bit of extermination.” Scorch’s blood ran cold. Tiger seemed to notice and his eyes twitched over to meet hers. She quickly ducked her gaze and leaned away to nestle her cheek into Razor’s fur demurely.

“We would need to be careful,” Ghost said. “The wild cats are a lot stronger than we first thought. I’m not sure many of my cats could go blow for blow with them for long.”

“They don’t need to,” Oreo said simply. “If we get enough of them in a group they’ll be able to wear the wild cats down even if they take losses.” Scorch spared a glance at Ghost to see his jaw working. He was furious. Still, he was hiding it well, she thought. It was only her experience with him that let her recognize the subtle tensing of the muscles in his neck and the way his tail tip was poised to start twitching if he let it.

Razor seemed to notice too and said, “True, but there’s no need to be so wasteful if we can afford not to be. It’s our job to look out for the Chaff, is it not?”

Oreo’s whiskers twitched and he looked down. Tiger huffed softly through his nose.

Sardine nodded and said, “Indeed. Perhaps combat training could be provided?”

Razor smiled. “Good idea,” he said. “Why don’t you and Ghost organize training for the most promising candidates. Once you both feel satisfied with their progress, we can start implementing these strike teams, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Sardine said, glancing at Ghost. Ghost grunted affirmatively, his jaw still clenched.

“Good,” Razor said, moving to stand. Scorch stood as well, pressing close to him and keeping her head low to avoid too much attention. “Is there anything else we needed to discuss?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Oreo said, standing as well. Tiger and Ghost both shook their heads.

Sardine took a step forward. “Actually, Razor, I was wondering if I could have a private word?”

“Of course,” Razor said, jerking his head towards the rose bush in the corner of the yard. Tail brushing across Scorch’s belly, he leaned into her ear and said, “Wait here for me, would you, dear?”

Scorch chuckled to hide the shudder of disgust that went through her. “Always.” His smile widened and he ran his tongue over her cheek and up her brow before gesturing to Sardine and padding off to the rose bush. She was tempted to try and eavesdrop but knew that she wouldn’t be able to get close enough without being seen.

In addition, she had a more important task to see to. She looked over at the others. Oreo and Tiger had started off across the lawn together, talking amongst themselves. Ghost sat still, his eyes closed as he breathed slowly in and out. Scorch cast one glance over her shoulder to make sure Razor was occupied then slipped over to stand next to Ghost. His whiskers twitched as she drew near and he opened his newly scarred eye to look at her.

“What do you want?” he grumbled. His eyes also darted over her shoulder to where Razor and Sardine were talking.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said softly, offering a smile. “I was under quite a lot of stress last time we talked and I did a lot of things that I am not proud of.” She held her breath, hoping he bought it. This part was integral if she was going to accomplish what she needed to.

He scowled at her. “You nearly got me in serious trouble, you know that?”

“I do,” she winced, hoping she looked sufficiently remorseful. “I’m sorry, Ghost. Really.” He stared at her for another long moment before sighing, his gaze softening a touch.

“I appreciate it,” he said, looking her over. She smiled and sat down. Good. He had never been able to stay mad at her for long.

“I did mean what I said about looking out for Smokyrose,” she whispered. “If you helped me escape, I could bring them a warning.”

Ghost shook his head. “And then what? My cats get killed instead? No, I can’t do that.” Scorch felt anger rising in her again. There was always an excuse with him, wasn’t there, some reason why he couldn’t do what she needed him to. She focused on keeping calm, though. Trying to threaten him hadn’t worked at all. She needed to use a softer touch.

She shifted closer, her eyes big and sincere, and said, “Then I’ll tell the Clans not to kill the Chaff. Goldenstar would listen. She took in Scrap despite my warnings. If she can spare a life, she will, I promise.”

“So Scrap is safe then,” he said as if he’d caught her in a lie. Scorch tried not to let her irritation get the better of her. Like he cared about Scrap at all.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “And I can make sure that she stays that way. Both her and Smokyrose.” Instinctively, she brushed her tail tenderly over his, satisfied by the way he tensed and then relaxed under her touch. “Please, Ghost. Won’t you help me?” She tried to make her eyes water as she held his gaze. Hopefully he would prove as predictable as always and be unable to resist the pleadings of a woman who needed him.

She watched him thinking. His eyes darted down to her paws like he wanted to place one of his own on top of them. He leaned forward almost imperceptibly, their whiskers almost close enough to touch. His mouth opened, a hesitant word on his tongue, and she felt her spirits soar. Yes! She had won! She had-

His eyes flickered over her shoulder and a scowl returned. “Razor is watching,” he said. Bile swelled to overtake her lifted spirits and drag them back down to the pit of her stomach. She knew better than to look over her shoulder or quickly fix her posture. She licked her lips and very carefully sat back.

“Think about it,” she said. “You know where to find me.” At this point, she could hear Razor coming her way. She let one ear twitch back, then stood and turned to face him, hiding all evidence that she had been touching Ghost. She smiled fondly at Razor and moved to meet him, butting her head against his chest.

“Ghost,” Sardine said, a dubious tilt to his voice, “Shall we talk logistics?”

Ghost cleared his throat and nodded, standing. “Yes. Let’s.” Stiffly, he turned and followed the younger tom and Scorch cursed him in her head. He was being too obvious!

Razor curled around her, his brows furrowed, and asked, “What was that all about?” As he did, he nosed the fur on the back of her neck and she went rigid at the touch, heart suddenly hammering.

“I was urging Ghost to have faith in your leadership,” she lied, trying to turn her head to look at him, but he opened his mouth and gently placed his teeth against her scruff and she immediately froze again. A purr rumbled through him and he removed his teeth. This time, she stayed exactly where she was.

“Is that all?” he murmured warmly against her skin. “It seemed like there was more to it than that.” He padded slowly around her, always keeping some part of him in contact with her.

Scorch fixed her eyes on the rose bush as she spoke. “Maybe for him,” she said. “You know he never really got over me.”

“Mm,” Razor hummed, unsatisfied.

Scorch swallowed. “But I promise, things were strictly professional. I have no interest in any other kind of relationship with someone like him.”

Razor came back around to look at her face again and she dared to turn her head to meet his gaze. “Not even a little?” he asked, “for old times’ sake?”

“No, of course not!” She promised with a worried expression. “Razor, I’m yours now. That’s all I could ever want.”

Razor looked her over and then sighed with a dejected glance downward. “I know. I just… after you went missing and everything…” He shifted his weight and sat down. “It feels like you sometimes don’t think about how your actions affect me. I do so much to make sure you’re taken care of and it’s like you don’t even care.”

“No, Razor,” she swallowed and stepped in to wrap herself around him instead, “of course I care! I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel that way.” She knew his game. This trick was the oldest in the book. But she had no choice but to play along. “How can I prove how much I love you, honey?”

Razor leaned into her touch with another sigh. “Just… promise you won’t talk to Ghost anymore?” he asked tiredly. “It would make me feel so much better if I didn’t have to worry about him and you.”

“Of course,” Scorch promised, pressing her forehead against his. “If that’s what you want, I’ll try and avoid him.”

“It is,” he purred. “Thank you, Gingersnap.”

“Anything for you,” she swallowed.

“Why don’t I walk you home,” he offered, pulling back to meet her gaze again.

“Oh, that’s alright,” she shook her head. “I can get back just fine on my own.”

“No, no, I insist,” he said, standing up. “I’ll feel a lot better if I know you got home safe.”

Scorch sighed. It had been worth a try. Smiling, she tried to play her reaction off as fondness and said, “Alright then. Whatever you want, dear.”

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Scorchplume #Razor #Ghost #Oreo #Tiger #Sardine #Marmalade #Leafbare #clangenrising

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