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thornclans · 4 months

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MOON 0 (PROLOGUE) - NEWLEAF

Ash choked in Rookpelt's throat as she leaned over the rippling lake, ghostly white tail lashing behind her as she pushed her paws into the dry earth below. Silver eyes screwed shut, fur standing on end; she couldn't believe what had just happened. Images of fire lapping against tree trunks, the screams of cats stilling into a crackling silence. The forest was gone. SableClan was gone.

Eyes opening, Rookpelt glared down at the water, lifting her head to twist around to Ebonyspots. Her no good Clanmate. “Why'd you do it?” Rookpelt asked, venom laced in her tone. A bitter accusation thrown forward, dipped in grief. “Why did you fucking stop me!?”

The black she-cat stood across from her, empty green eyes staring back. Ebonyspots eventually responded, a shrug running through her. “You would've died.” Her voice was blank, nonchalant. As if they hadn't just survived a fucking forest fire.

Rookpelt sneered, anger thrumming through her. “You never cared about SableClan, not since Chasingstar let you in. You're just a rogue.”

Unfortunately, words never seemed to have much profound effect on Ebonyspots. “I'll always be a rogue,” she hummed, tilting her head as she cast her gaze to Rookpelt. “And I'll always be a warrior.”

That anger burned inside her chest, seizing her lungs until she was screaming in rage, throwing herself forward. Outstretched claws met Ebonyspots' throat, slamming her into the ground below. Rookpelt pushed her paw into the other she-cat's neck, a snarl rumbling in her throat. “I should kill you.” Bloodlust trembled beneath her claws, begging to rip Ebonyspots open. The image of blood spilled all over, sticky crimson globs stuck to blades of grass.

Ebonyspots stared up at her, not even lifting a paw to fight back. “Then kill me.” Her voice was a picture of perfect calm, which only further funneled Rookpelt's rage. She'd kill Ebonyspots. She would.

“I could've saved them,” Rookpelt said, trembling. A wail stuck to her tongue. “They were just kits. But you had to stop me.”

“They're in StarClan now,” Ebonyspots murmured. “They're safe there. And you're safe here.”

Rookpelt nearly screamed again. She didn't understand Ebonyspots, never really had; why this useless former rogue had decided to become Rookpelt's own personal protector, she'd never know. And she definitely didn't understand why she was so intent on becoming friends. Rookpelt's friends were dead. Not that she'd ever had many of those, but now they were gone, and she was stuck here with Ebonyspots. Who she wanted nothing more than to kill. Maybe she still would.

At least, she would've, had the bushes not trembled and a dark brown shape came stumbling out. Both she-cats whipped their heads to the side, and that's when Rookpelt recognized who it was. Brows furrowing, a scoff bursting out of her. “Hillstar?” BrushClan's most infamous leader.

The tom blinked at them, standing still for a moment. “Am I interrupting something?” he eventually asked, mild as ever. His paler brown paws led him to the lakeside, lapping up a mouthful of water.

“...No,” Rookpelt finally replied, shooting a glare at Ebonyspots as she slipped off the other she-cat, tail fluffing with uncertainty. “What are you doing here?”

Hillstar retreated from the water's edge, turning to look at the two. He squinted, then, like he was sizing them up. “Rookpelt. And...” He turned to Ebonyspots, quiet. “I don't recognize you.”

Thoroughly creeped out, Rookpelt hardly heard her Clanmate's response - ��Chasingstar was hesitant to introduce me.” Fangs flashed, a smile quirking Ebonyspots' muzzle. “I don't quite know why. I don't kill cats anymore.”

Rookpelt froze, staring at Ebonyspots in shock. Hillstar didn't seem fazed, though, which must've been Ebonyspots' goal. Surely she was lying. That was a dumb fucking lie, if so. If not... well, Rookpelt didn't really want to think about that.

“I'm happy for you,” Hillstar said, that familiar thread of sarcasm tinging his voice, not apparent anywhere else. He often spoke like that on the Jagged Rocks during gatherings, tightly veiled insults swarming his tone. No wonder no one liked him. Besides, as far as anyone knew, BrushClan's former leader had been banished by Hillstar himself - or at least, when Hillfang was a warrior, he'd incited some kind of coup with the rest of the Clan. Power like that was dangerous. Besides, BrushClan had been in a cold war with SunClan for the past several moons, and Redstar had nearly called upon SableClan for help. Some part of Rookpelt wondered if the fire was a way to stop the blood that would've been shed. But why did so many cats have to lose their lives?

“You didn't answer my question,” Rookpelt said, narrowing her eyes. Hillstar stared back. “Why are you here? You're in the mountains.”

His ear twitched. “The fire reached us. I was the only survivor.” Emptiness basked in his tone.

“Don't sound too sad about it,” Rookpelt huffed.

“How exactly could a fire reach a territory with no trees?” Ebonyspots spoke up.

Hillstar blinked, silent for a moment. “It seems as though Widowstar has returned wielding the power of fire.”

Ebonyspots shot a questioning look at Rookpelt, who wasn't paying attention to her Clanmate in the slightest. “What? Your former leader did this?!”

“I don't know. But he killed his old Clan.”

“So this is your fault,” Rookpelt hissed, fur standing on end. Hillstar didn't look afraid but his claws still unsheathed, digging into the dirt. “If you hadn't taken over your stupid Clan, everyone would still be alive!”

“We don't know that for sure,” Ebonyspots said, always the fucking voice of reason. “Maybe Widowstar used the fire to his advantage. But how he could use fire...” She shook her head, at a loss.

“Did you lose a life?” Rookpelt spat, tail lashing. “I sure hope you did.”

Hillstar tilted his head. “I'm afraid I've still got them all.”

“Convenient. Maybe I'll take a few.”

“By all means, you're welcome to try.”

Before either cat could throw themselves at the other, the sound of voices carried out from the forest, growing closer with each pawstep. Suddenly, a silver tabby tom and a small pale brown tom stepped into the clearing, deep in conversation.

“Your brother would want you to,” the larger tom said. Was that... SunClan's medicine cat?

“Just because he was your apprentice doesn't mean I'm going to be,” the apprentice spat back, voice cold. Rookpelt didn't know him, but she definitely recognized Jumblefur from previous gatherings. “Besides, all you did was feed his habit.”

“He was a fine apprentice.”

“And now he's dead.”

Quiet lapsed between them, until they finally opened their stupid eyes and looked around, catching sight of the three other cats standing around them.

“Who are you?” the apprentice asked, bored and critical all at once.

“My, my,” Jumblefur said, smirking when he laid eyes on Rookpelt. “If it isn't my favorite SableClan warrior.” She wanted to claw his ears off. “And you...” He peered at Ebonyspots. “You're new. Then, of course, Hillstar.” Jumblefur turned to the brown tom, dipping his head respectfully. Oh, so he'll respect a usurper, but not me, a mere warrior! Jumblefur had always flirted with her, and when she threatened to kill him, all he did was laugh. Idiot.

“Jumblefur,” Hillstar said. “I'm pleased you're alive. Who is this with you, again?”

“Don't tell them,” the apprentice said quickly.

“Pantherpaw,” Jumblefur happily supplied, looking rather pleased with himself. The apprentice just sighed.

“Is Redstar alive?” Rookpelt asked.

Pantherpaw bared his teeth. “What's it to you?”

Rookpelt narrowed her eyes. “In case you've gone blind, we're all that's left of the Clans. It would be nice to know if any leader besides Hillstar is still alive.”

Hillstar didn't look offended. Pantherpaw just glared.

“Redstar is dead,” Jumblefur replied, more subdued now. “So is Foggyfern.”

“Shit,” Rookpelt swore.

“What about Chasingstar? Gusttail?”

“Dead,” Ebonyspots said. “We saw them burn.”

Jumblefur winced. “I'm sorry.”

Ebonyspots shrugged.

“What do we do, then?” Rookpelt asked, frowning. “If we're all that's left, then...”

“Well, we must continue on,” Jumblefur said. “Of course.”

“We can't go on without a leader,” Rookpelt scoffed. “And I refuse,” she glared at Hillstar, “to be led by him.”

“Then he won't be our leader,” Ebonyspots said. “We don't need one. Surely we can all work together?” She purred, but there was sharpness behind that sound.

“I'm not working with any of you,” Pantherpaw growled. “I'd rather stay here alone.”

“Go ahead,” Rookpelt snapped. “It's not like we need a useless apprentice anyway.”

“Pantherpaw isn't going anywhere.” Jumblefur wrapped his tail around the little tom, who shoved it off in a fit of anger. “But it's true. StarClan would want us to go on -- to rebuild. I'm here as a medicine cat, and that's really all we need. A leader can come later, once we find a new territory.”

Rookpelt's chest tightened at the implications. She was just going to leave her home behind? Travel with a ragtag group of cats, three of which she didn't even really know? Two that she hated? She wasn't sure how she'd be able to get through it.

“StarClan would want this,” Hillstar nodded, lowering his head. “And considering I'm not your leader, and may never be,” he paused, frowning, “then I must return to my warrior name -- Hillfang.”

Jumblefur purred lightly. “Welcome to our ranks, Hillfang.” He turned to look at the others. “Is everyone else in favor of this?”

Rookpelt was quiet, weighing her options. In her silence, Ebonyspots stepped forward. “I'll continue on with all of you,” she said, nodding at Jumblefur.

Pantherpaw huffed out a breath of air. “Fine. Whatever. I'll come along.”

“Great.” Jumblefur turned expectant bronze eyes to Rookpelt. “What do you say?”

I really, really hate you all. “Alright. I'll come.” She sighed, looking down. Surely it would be better than being on her own?

Jumblefur bounced on his paws. “Wonderful!” He cast his gaze over the lake, toward the north. “It's been a long morning, but we can still get some steps in. Let's head out now.”

Who died and made you leader? Rookpelt wanted to say, but the words died in her mouth. Two leaders and three deputies had died. And all that was left of the three Clans were Rookpelt and a bunch of idiots.

What could go wrong?

#story.#woooo rookpelt pov!!! fun times #i'm debating whether or not to post character bios or just ... leave everything in the story #maybe i'll only make a bio after the first year. who knows!!#anyway enjoy!#clangen #clangen blog #clangen oc #warrior cats

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