TAINTED LINE

"Wrath is cruel, anger is overwhelming, but who can stand before jealousy?" (Proverbs 27:4)

Skypaw is determined to ignore the sense of betrayal that her father has left in his wake. But when she must face the consequences of his actions in the form of her own kin, she is left to carry his burden on her own shoulders.

Author's Note: At this point, I can't even really apologize for not posting. My inspiration for this story had basically disappeared over the past months, and my life has been a crazy whirl of school, work, and all that other fun stuff. But hit with inspiration at around 12AM, you can't really help what comes out, and I happen to be a writer who works better when I just type off the top of my head. So here is a chapter with quite a few unplanned interactions, but ones that push the story along regardless. I hope those who have stuck with the story enjoy, and I hope that updates can be a bit more frequent now. (:

EDIT [9/19/17]: I am working on plotting out the rest of the chapters, and I'm wondering if writing out most of them (or at least some of them) might help me get a more solid update schedule going. I think it might really help, especially with this third act. Leave your comments if you have any tips or tricks. (:

Chapter Twenty

"We need to go out now."

"Do you expect to find anything out there without walking straight into something? We'll be lucky if the scents are still there—we'll be even luckier if we can follow them. These cats aren't mousebrains."

"We can't just leave it alone. They know where we are, and it was obviously a deliberate attack. We leave it alone, we put ourselves at risk. You should know that better than anyone."

"Don't tell me what I see, Scarletstream. That is my son in there."

The quick words shared between the deputy and Hailcry were ones born from urgency, but nonetheless, belonging to two cats being toward apart by similar forms of grief. One from the harm done to her kit, and the other from the unknown whereabouts of a cat who very clearly meant a lot to her. Scorchbreeze was a valued warrior, yes, but he would never mean as much to Skypaw as her own brother.

"We will be risking everything by going back out now. If we hold off—"

"They'll scurry back only to form a new plan. We must act now. Silentstar is aware of this. He has plans to move forward…"

Her bright blue eyes were dim as she stared at the den wall, memorizing every little pattern that crossed it. The small crack in the dirt on the ground, the drops of water that leaked from some of the damp moss that one of the kits must have brought in. The unmistakable scent of blood that drifted from the medicine den to here. It was all there, right where she could sense it.

The buzzing in her ears started not long after they returned to camp, and the look she received from Brackenpaw made it clear that what was going on within her own head was also being shown on the outside as well. It was all echoing around her—him insisting that she go lay down, or at least take a few moments to recuperate. Of course, she heard none of it. She merely nodded to whatever he had told her, and allowed him to guide her to the apprentices' den where she was given a direct view to the argument being forged by the deputy and her mother.

She heard the bits and pieces that mattered little in the end. They would act on Silentstar's orders, which made it all pretty pointless. Briefly, she registered another cat pushing into the den and pressing a paw against her side, but she didn't feel it, and by then, her ability to even go along with what they wanted was diminished to nothing.

It was hard to recall names and faces. It was hard to remember just where she was, even after only moments had passed. But it had clearly been longer, as the camp was now bathed in moonlight that, from the looks of it, had been there for quite a while. The cats that stood outside bickering had since disappeared, to where, Skypaw hadn't a clue. Was it all just a hallucination? Did she really hear them at all?

Her paws twitched and she nearly jumped when another cat slunk into the den, their short fur ruffled and dim against the low lighting. Her face was familiar, even if she didn't have the strength to acknowledge her entrance out loud. Slowly, Whitepaw approached her from where she was settled in her nest, and carefully lowered herself down as well, pressing her side against hers.

The warmth was comforting, and if her goal was to lose herself in the depths of her own unconscious mind, then she had pretty much succeeded. She briefly felt the other she-cat grooming her shoulderblade, but other than that, everything was numb. Her mind was numb. It left her with nothing else to do but drift away into a sleep that would offer no dreams.

She woke with a start, her slumber broken immediately by the pawsteps of cats outside of the den. What time was it? It was hard to determine, and with Whitepaw asleep next to her, Skypaw had to assume that she had come in during the night. Either that, or she had joined her in the evening, and she just hadn't been aware of it.

Her muscles screamed as she brought herself slowly to her paws, Whitepaw's cheek sliding from her side to her nest. It was a surprise that she didn't wake up, especially considering the noise outside, but with everything else sleeping around them, it seemed that she had a reason to stay wherever she was. Skypaw would have much preferred to remain where she had been, but there was a time where she had to wake up—not just physically—and with the noise that had woken her appearing to grow in intensity, she had no choice but to move.

She should have retired to the elders' den at this point, seeing as every other day brought her closer and closer to losing the ability to walk or even think. But clearly she hadn't lost that completely, as her ears still worked. Her mind still worked. She knew when someone was calling out—or even speaking at a volume intending to be heard.

Stumbling across the camp, she glanced to the side, expecting to see some of her clanmates interacting with one another, but there was no one around. No one conversing, no one even sharing tongues. Twitching her ears, she looked in the opposite direction, and moved at an even slower pace as she realized that whatever was beckoning her was coming from outside of the camp.

There was nothing stopping her from going after it. Nothing, except the shuffling that caught her attention as she passed the medicine den. Was Bristlefur still awake? What…

Quietly, she changed her course, dainty paws turning towards the den as she pushed her way inside. There was little in the way of light even during the day, so there was little to no hope that she could observe what was lying deep in the chamber. But her normal fears were dimmed in comparison to her heightened senses now, and her body moved without her own knowledge through the small tunnel.

The coughing caught her attention first. Then the scratching. Then the slight whimper.

It was the scent that brought her back.

Wrinkling her nose, Skypaw had a hard time catching her breath. In that moment, it was as though she had just raced through the whole territory. Jumped into the river…

Her thoughts trailed off.

"Snowpaw?" the she-cat murmured, approaching her brother with as much accuracy as one would have walking in the dark. But she knew exactly where he was settled. An injured cat could only be injured further if you were careless enough to walk all over them. It was something that could be applied to at the moment, but it had more meanings than she would like to admit.

"Skypaw?" she heard him call back, voice groggy but distressed. Skypaw almost moved forward, but her earlier observation in mind, she thought better of it. "I… I can't see you."

She pulled back. "It's dark," came her reply, as if it was the strangest statement she had ever heard.

"No… no. I mean—" She knew what he meant. And she didn't want to hear anymore.

"I know."

Skypaw managed to find her brother among the darkness, laying her chin over his soft neck fur, all the while keeping her eyes facing away from where she knew his to be. The cover of night consuming the den couldn't hide what she knew to be there, and she offered what little protection she could. Her presence wasn't much, but it was all she could bare to offer.

She heard him suck in a breath and adjust his position, but not once did she move. "I should have done it… I could have… then I could have helped you."

"It was your choice," Skypaw objected, but her voice was low and almost apathetic. As though it didn't even belong to her. "You made it in the moment. You don't choose to take a life so easily." But she had made the decision before. She might not have succeeded, but the deed was done in her mind. The difference between her brother and herself was staggering, but without the actions to prove it, they were one and the same.

"…You would've done it," Snowpaw whispered, almost inaudible. But she knew him, and she heard what he had to say every time.

Snowpaw knew, and that fact meant that words weren't needed. Still, she whispered back, "…Yeah, I would have."

Moments passed like days, the silence keeping them from moving. She could hear every shuffle, feel every twitch, but not once did her mind say it was enough. It would never be enough—not with her brother beneath her after losing so much. She had been spared, of course. Saved from the cat who called herself family.

"Skypaw."

She might have been used to the sounds around her, but she didn't catch Bristlefur's approach until he stood not even rabbit-lengths away from her. The scent got to her first, but the medicine cat's presence was something she could feel—almost palpable, in a way. And it set her on edge unlike any time before.

"He made the choices he needed to. He will live."

"Live like he is now? Maybe that isn't living how he should." At the moment, Skypaw didn't care whether her brother was awake or not. With her nerves on end, the she-cat took her place as a formidable warrior—not a foolish apprentice who couldn't uphold her own morals. "Not like how he was."

"That is what StarClan intended. Everything we do happens because of their will."

"That is what you tell yourself, huh?" Skypaw said back, her voice deadly. Despite the isolation of the den, a chill seemed to sweep past them, taking with it her last resolve to remain quiet. "That's how you work, of course. You let things work themselves out. That's why you let Blotchfire leave. That's why you watched me almost kill her. You watch and wait—you're too scared to intervene. You're afraid of making things worse."

"You underestimate my influence over my clanmates," Bristlefur replied, his tone dropping to match her own with a fierceness he wasn't known to possess. "I can assure you that my relation to you or your family plays little role in how I follow StarClan."

"Of course," she retorted, rolling her head back. "StarClan forbids attachments. That's why you treat us like we're just another inconvenience. Like I will spill all of your deepest darkest secrets."

"I have no secrets," the medicine cat said dully, the most convincing she had ever heard him. But it was a lie, and she knew it. Everyone had their secrets, and although she might not know what he kept buried within his soul, there had to be something.

"But…" he continued. "…You do." And in that moment, she could have sworn she saw his eyes reflected among the darkness. "And the threat you pose to yourself and your Clan is not something to be ignored, as much as they might choose to look away."

"You think I'm dangerous?" the apprentice echoed, but she didn't need a verbal answer to know just what he believed. She knew from the very beginning, from when he caught her with her eyes locked on the throat of her sister. There was no denying the words that passed between them, despite none actually being spoken. Suddenly, many of the things that had transpired began to make sense.

"You've tried to change things—change what has already been written in the stars. Not because you care about your family—but because you are afraid of them." Never had she seen the tom as her uncle, and she knew well enough he had never seen her as his niece—biological strangers, at best. At worst, he looked at her as though she was a fox waiting to snap. Such irony. If only he could recognize just who posed the greatest threat.

Bristlefur barely responded; he merely took a step back, as though to collect his thoughts. Had she rendered him completely speechless? It was hard to tell, but Skypaw almost wished for him to say something. There had to be something more. But then again, Bristlefur looked to the stars. His mind was far away, in a place she could never reach. It was always there.

"I will continue to try," he finally said, returning to that place within his own head that gave him an air of mystery. That of a stranger. "For your sake… I think you should, too."

She didn't have to see him to know he was motioning her out of the den. It was hard to be sure, but Skypaw was already disappearing down the tunnel before he could say it. Listening to him had never been a real consideration of her, but now his words began to stand out to her. It was the first time she let out what she had been feeling for so long—the uneasiness around him. It had to mean something.

Letting out a breath, Skypaw closed her eyes and let the cool air touch her face, refreshing her mind as she let herself picture everything around her. Sight was taken for granted all too often, and for her brother, it had cost him dearly. With her eyes shut tightly, she could identify everything within the camp. Everything she memorized, and everything she knew to be real. Everything here was real, but the cat back there… the one who denied whatever it was that he felt… he wasn't real. Not as real as her and certainly not as willing to take those hard steps to do what needed to be done.

Despite the warmth that they day had offered, the night gave nothing but cool winds that turned her breath to a cool gust of air. But it didn't touch her. Her pelt felt warm, as though being scrutinized by every cat who had dared to cause her or her Clan trouble. She felt strong for reasons she knew to be superficial, but she was unwilling to push it away. Even when Whitepaw approached her with the uneasiness of a cat unfamiliar with her, she didn't dare open her eyes.

"I… saw Snowpaw earlier," Whitepaw said, but Skypaw didn't even look her way. She kept her head up, inviting every kind of look and speculation. She didn't care to deny them. "We talked for a little while… He told me he wished he had saved you."

She recalled his brief words to her before settling down, but they still didn't mean much in the way of a solid excuse for what he did—or, in her own mind, didn't do. It was only a feeling, and those didn't have much meaning behind instinct and trauma.

Apparently the silence began to bug Whitepaw, as Skypaw heard her begin to shuffle her paws. She expected the tabby to continue speaking about what her brother said, but instead, she sighed softly. "I'm worried for you all—when you leave the camp, we never know what's out there. Now, there's something to be feared outside of the walls."

"Every cat knows that," Skypaw responded without thought. "We all know that. It's why we are training to become warriors."

"It's dangerous for other cats, too," Whitepaw responded, and Skypaw opened her eyes just in time to catch the other she-cat as she looked towards the medicine den.

"…He's going to live," Skypaw told Whitepaw, the words feeling hollow on her tongue. At this point, it was only her repeating what she knew to be fact. But facts were never so reassuring. Living didn't mean anything without having quality, and when that came into question, Skypaw wasn't quite sure what to think. "He will."

Whitepaw glanced back again, opening her mouth as though struck with a sudden thought, but she appeared to think better of it and closed her mouth before turning back to Skypaw. "I know. I know he is. We all are."

Whitepaw's strength was something Skypaw could admire, but with the knowledge that she could never possess it in the same way her denmate did. There were different kinds of strengths, certainly, but one needed to be prepared above all else in order to put that strength to good use. Whitepaw's eagerness was something of an asset, but should she ever be put up against a cat intent on doing her severe harm, Skypaw didn't know if she would make it out.

But then, looking at it, many cats were like that, and it was frightening to say the least. How many were willing to put themselves before others when it counted the most? Without another cat to look after, some would still rather put their enemy before their own well-being. That idea sent a shiver of trepidation through Skypaw, causing her to dig her claws into the ground as a way to express it.

She was sure that Whitepaw would never need to hear these words. Should she listen, it wouldn't make a whole lot of a difference. The apprentice was too filled with light—too committed to doing what was told was right. For the most part, the Clan's morals matched up with one another. But when one stepped out of line, things started to be questioned, and after that, the eyes that followed you out of curiosity would begin to follow you out of fear and judgment.

Skypaw would make sure it would never happen. StarClan couldn't control everything—she knew that well enough. She couldn't expect them to fix the problems that the Clan had created. With a glance at her clanmate, she knew that saying that out loud wouldn't do any good. But self-actualization was a beautiful thing, and with no other label to present herself with, Skypaw found that it was enough.

"I need to do something," Skypaw said, finally drawing the attention of Whitepaw. "And I'm going to need your help."