Holy shoot, we're a chapter away from the halfway point. jeezus, we've come so far guys. But you'll hate me so much next chapter. So so much.
"No!" Hollowstar cried, dashing forward to the patrol. Stonetail stepped aside respectfully.
"Get Shyfawn! He's still breathing!" The deputy shouted to the shell-shocked bystanders. Whitefang nodded quickly and ran to the medicine cat den.
"What's all the commotion out there?" Shyfawn asked, seeing the horror upon Whitefang's face.
"It's Darkclaw, oh, come quickly Shyfawn, it was those fish faces!" Whitefang wailed. The black and orange tortie quickly snatched up a lump of green leaves and small, brightly colored berries before hurrying out into the clearing. Shiverpaw's eyes were wide as she padded after her mentor. Whitefang followed them out, heart pounding in her chest like pawsteps on a battlefield.
Please, Starclan, let him be okay. If-if he dies, he'll never see his son again. Great Starclan, if he dies, Barkpaw-Leo-will never know he's gone. Please, Starclan, let him live! Whitefang pleaded desperately. The unconscious Darkclaw lay out in the clearing, battered, bruised, and bloodied.
"Give me space!" Shyfawn spat, her quick and ferocious business manner returning. Shiverpaw stayed by her side loyally.
"Whitefang, I can't even look!" Swanmist whimpered, turning her head to the side. Whitefang nodded stiffly, words catching in her throat. The shock had worn off now, replaced by anger. How dare they? Attack us on our own territory! She fumed.
"Are you two alright?" Her father's comforting voice pierced her thoughts.
"Yes, but-OH!" Swanmist exclaimed when she lifted her green eyes to Stonetail. The tom's pelt was tattered, with angry scratches lacing his flanks.
"Papa!" Whitefang breathed.
"It doesn't hurt, love. Shyfawn has her paws full, too." The deputy gazed sadly over toward Darkclaw. Shyfawn announced that he was too hurt to move him into the medicine cat den, so warriors were busying themselves with creating a makeshift den about the injured tom in the center of the clearing.
"You can't possibly say it doesn't hurt!" Swanmist frowned.
"It doesn't hurt," Stonetail insisted. Another mew joined the conversation. Whitefang flinched.
"Darling, get Shiverpaw to tend to those scratches, they're going to get infected." Paledove said. She had appeared at her mate's side, crystal blue eyes wide and concerned. Her sleek, slender silver face turned from Stonetail to Swanmist.
"Oh, love, could you fetch Shiverpaw? These need to be tended to." The silver she-cat meowed.
"But mother-" Swanmist began, glancing nervously at her father. The gray and white tom was eyeing Paledove, a queer expression playing across his muzzle.
"Swanmist," Paledove meowed firmly. The silver and white she-cat sighed and her tail tip twitched.
"Mother, if he says he's fine, he's fine. They'll get cleaned. Shyfawn and Shiverpaw have larger issues right now." The young warrior said with an air of finality. Whitefang expected Paledove to madden. Instead, the pale silver warrior smiled.
"Oh! You're so stubborn, sweetheart. But of course you're right. What was I thinking?" She purred sweetly, licking Swanmist's cheek.
"Mama! I'm not a kitten!" She laughed. Whitefang stood in the corner awkwardly, as if she were intruding on an important gathering…of a different family. Stonetail noticed.
"Whitefang, sweet, how was your first day with Stormpaw?" He asked gently, as if easing her in. Whitefang's shoulders loosened slightly. Maybe things have gotten better…
"Stormpaw's very enthusiastic!" She grinned, "He get's very invested in whatever he's doing, and he's a quick learner. He was a little shy at first but-"
"You don't deserve that apprentice." Paledove hissed.
"Wha-Mother! Of course Whitefang deserves Stormpaw! She'll be a wonderful mentor!" Swanmist frowned.
"She doesn't deserve that name, let alone an apprentice," Paledove snarls, "And Swanmist, don't you go about defending her. You know as well as I do she'll never be as good as you."
"Please, Mama," Swanmist pleaded, but her voice was weak. When Paledove raged, she raged terribly. Swanmist stood no chance of protest.
"Look at her! She looks like no kit of mine! Swanmist, she's nothing. She's ugly and stupid, and selfish. AH! I can't even look at you anymore, get out of my sight!" Paledove snapped turning away from Whitefang abruptly.
"Paledove, you are vicious! A monster! Why can't you see her for what she is?" Stonetail snarled.
"I do see her for what she is! Remember our deal? I left her sleep in my nest for six moons and then I'm rid of her!" Paledove hissed.
"That doesn't mean you have the right to bully her into submission! Or spread lies and hate!" Stonetail growled menacingly.
"What is wrong with her? She is nothing! Do you not love our true daughter?"
"Of course I love Swanmist! But Whitefang is our kit as well!"
"Our kit?!"
Whitefang teared up. She couldn't take this anymore. And to think I thought it might have changed. She ran from her parents, and entered the warrior's den. Stumbling in, she heard hushed voices stop speaking. She looked up, only to find herself under the scrutinizing glares of Mothwhisker and Dawnstrike. She darted from that den, and found herself in the clearing again; Stonetail and Paledove were still fighting, and Swanmist had slunk away to find the warm embrace of Timbermask. Whitefang felt her heart sink. Alone, afraid, and heartbroken, she had nowhere left to turn. Maybe…She wondered, Frecklestep and Jumpfire were kind to me before. She hurried to the elder's den.
"Whitefang, child!" Jumpfire exclaimed as the tearful warrior burst through the den entrance.
"What are you doing in here? What's wrong?" Frecklestep asked gently, coming up to the warrior. She collapsed on the moss and began to weep.
"E-Everybody h-hates me!" She sobbed.
"Aw, shut up! Can't you see this is an elder's den, not an apprentice's-dramatic-woes-den?!" Lostwind snapped.
"That's not true, Whitefang." Frecklestep sighed, "And Lostwind, keep out of this you old coot!"
"You d-didn't see t-them," She whimpered, lifting her head and looking into the old tom's yellow eyes.
"Hush, hush. It will be all right. Starclan is watching over you, young'un." Jumpfire sighed, sitting back in his nest. Whitefang lay there on the ground, breaths shuddering, feeling the presence of wisdom and comfort about her. As she lay there, she was reminded of something she had wanted to ask…
"I do hope you live up to your name. It is one with a history, and do take care not to tarnish it."
"I'm sure you've heard the stories about the old Whitefang. We used to reenact the old tales when we were kits."
"She doesn't deserve that name, let alone an apprentice,"
They had been bothering her for some time. And now, she was sheltering where stories were spun and told.
"Frecklestep?" She wondered.
"Yes?" The speckled tom replied softly.
"Could you tell me a story?" She asked.
"Aren't you a bit old for stories?" Jumpfire asked bemusedly.
"No one's too old for a good story, be it fact or fiction." Frecklestep smiled.
"What would you like to here?" Jumpfire asked.
"I'd like to hear-to hear about Whitefang. The original," She added.
"That's a fine tale if I ever heard one!" Frecklestep mewed approvingly.
"I'm surprised you haven't asked for it before." Jumpfire said.
"It's been in the back of my mind for a while," Whitefang admitted.
"Well then, let's begin…" Jumpfire smiled.
"On the first day of Leafbare, when the trees glowed bright against the soft dawn sky, two warriors of ancient Tigerclan went out to follow a strange sound. It was a long, drawn out sound, both joyful and mournful at the same time. It was no sound they'd ever heard before.
"Deep into their territory, this was before the days of twolegs, when the world was wild, they walked, guided by the sound. Finally, they came to a clearing. The clearing was rimmed with bushes of the brightest red and trees that held dying leaves of gold, amber, and blazing orange. The grass was a warm heather-brown, and in the midst of this beauty emerged a figure. This figure was larger than either warrior, and held itself with a noble stature. Its pelt was brighter than anything they had ever seen before, and seemed to glimmer with the light of a thousand stars in its silver depths. Its eyes were a deep, all-knowing black. The warriors beheld the mystical creature with awe, and watched with even further astonishment as a white cub ventured forth from between its massive starlit paws. The dawn light hit the cub's pelt to make it glow with a thousand colors, though it was still white. Its eyes were a startling blue, the blue of Leafbare's skies shining through a mist of snow. The warriors wondered why such a cat would be staying, unharmed, with this majestic creature. It was then that the creature tilted its head to the breaking down and let out a cry. It was the sound the warriors had followed. Low and musical, filled with drawn out sorrow and joy. Once the sound had finished, the creature lowered its gaze to the warriors. It bent down and lifted up the cub, padded over, and placed the white child by the Tigerclan warriors' paws. In a flash, the creature was gone. Thus was the beginning of the Legend of Whitefang, warrior raised by wolves."
Frecklestep continued his tale, Whitefang listening with rapt, unwavering attention. She listened to amazing battles, lost lives, and acts of outstanding bravery. She envisioned a she-cat, proud and powerful with a pelt of snow and Leafbare blue eyes, fighting against terrors of the heart, mind, and soul. A she-cat who was amazing no matter where she came from or what she looked like. And she was inspired. Once Frecklestep finished, she gasped.
"It's not over, is it? It can't end like that! Please, Frecklestep, tell me there's more!" She pleaded.
"I'm afraid that's it. Her story remains undocumented after that." Frecklestep smiled at the warrior's kit-like attitude. Whitefang sighed.
"Thank you anyway. It was truly…eye opening." She meowed earnestly. Frecklestep nodded in thanks, while Jumpfire smiled kindly.
"Feel better, Whitefang?" He asked.
"Much," She purred, "But I guess…I have to go out." She frowned at the den entrance.
"Face them with pride in yourself, steel in your veins, and courage in your heart." Jumpfire encouraged. The warrior steeled herself, and walked out of the den.
"How is he?" Whitefang asked quietly when she found Shyfawn building a makeshift nest inside Darkclaw's private den. The tortie looked exhausted.
"He-he…I honestly don't know, Whitefang. I've done all I can. Let's just pray Starclan doesn't take him now." She sighed, "Everything would be so much easier if…" The medicine cat trailed off as Shiverpaw trotted into the den, jaws full.
"I brought some more mallow, Shyfawn," The tiny she-cat mewed. Shyfawn sniffed the air disdainfully.
"That's not mallow, Shiverpaw, that's marigold. Remember, I told you to-"
"Look before I reach. Sorry, Shyfawn." The little cat hung her head, "I'll go get the mallow now, Shyfawn." She mewed softly, backing out of the den. Once she left, Shyfawn groaned.
"I know I'm tough on her, but it's been so long since I…you know." The old she-cat said, looking at Whitefang, who nodded.
"It's hard to train a young cat. I know that now!" She joked lightly. Shyfawn smiled slightly.
"Yes, it is. Now why don't you go get some rest?" Shyfawn suggested, leaning down to sniff delicately at Darkclaw's wrappings, "Stale." She muttered.
"It isn't even twilight!" Whitefang protested.
"Showers tonight. I feel it in my bones; there will be lots of rain." Shyfawn shrugged, "And it's always easier to get to sleep before the roof leaks than after," She mewed, humor glittering in her turquoise gaze.
"Alright, I'll try. Goodnight, Shyfawn." Whitefang murmured.
"Goodnight, child. Sleep well." Shyfawn replied. Whitefang ducked out from the small, cramped den. Glancing up at the sky, she recognized the growing storm clouds. They were darkening on the horizon, casting ominous shadows over camp. Whitefang shivered. Shyfawn's probably right. Best to try and sleep now before the downpours. Those look laden!
Whitefang made her way over to the warrior's den, but was intercepted by Swanmist.
"We never did get to finish our catching up earlier, mentor Whitefang!" The silver and white she-cat smiled. Whitefang rolled her eyes.
"I'm tired!" She protested.
"Oh, too bad. I already volunteered us for the night patrol along Riverclan's border!" Swanmist mewed cheerfully, "So we have plenty of time to talk before then!" She purred, sitting down.
"Night patrol?!" Whitefang squawked, "You do realize it's going to pour right?"
"Yeah, so? You always said it was fun to patrol in the rain." Swanmist shrugged.
"Um, clearly you don't get sarcasm." Whitefang muttered.
"Oh, it'll be fun!" Swanmist smiled.
"Sure, sure." Whitefang mewed, "So what'd you wanna talk about?"
"Well, I was gonna say scouting was terribly boring. We just sat in trees. But I guess I was a lucky one," She said, glancing toward Darkclaw's "den".
"And? You wouldn't say you wanted to catch up if you didn't have news. I know you too well!" Whitefang prodded her sister teasingly.
"Fine. I was getting to the news." Swanmist grumbled good-naturedly, " Timbermask and I are trying again. For kits." She said.
"That's great! But are you sure you're ready?" Whitefang asked gently.
"I need these kits, Whitefang. It's-it's like there's a hole in my heart. And it needs to be filled," Swanmist implored, while Whitefang looked at her confusedly. The warrior sighed. "You'll get it when you have kits."
"That's my news," Whitefang mewed firmly, thinking back to the Whitefang of old. Kits had destroyed her.
"I've decided I won't have kits. Or a mate. No cat would want me anyway, so why bother?" She said casually. Swanmist frowned.
"So untrue. There's always someone for somebody," Not for Whitefang of the wolves "And you just have to find them." I won't find one. I'm better off alone.
"Respect it, Swanmist." Whitefang huffed. Swanmist rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. You will be loved, Whitefang, I swear it." She giggled softly. The two sat in silence for a while; finishing the meal they had begun earlier.
"It's time for the patrol." Swanmist said. Whitefang looked at the sky once again. She could've sworn it was midnight-the thick, dark clouds had gathered suddenly and plunged everything into humid darkness. As the pair stood and made their way over to where Bouncestrike, Kestrelwind, and Grayshadow stood, Whitefang felt the first drops begin to fall. Almost like the blackened stars were crying.
QOTD: What event do you think will mark the halfway, turning point of Whitefang's life?
I'm thinking about making the original Whitefang's story a oneshot. Should I? Or should you merely know the beginning?
You guys are gonna hate me. I'm sorry, but it has to be done.
Prepping myself,
-Bright