Lover, Hunter, Friend, and Enemy
There was still a dark stain on the grass. It was in the centre of camp. Unavoidable. It leered at him, a cruel reminder. In the sun it had baked to a rusty red that glinted in the light. Quailstar had become almost proud of it; she stopped by it a few times a day, leant down to hover her nose over it. Before she had died Icestar's eyes were always blank, void of expression. Her granddaughter's were always on the brink of overflowing.
Eventually, the blood would fade, and it would take with it all but the memory of what had happened under the cold stars. Until then Redfeather would continue to pretend it didn't bother him, just like it didn't bother anyone else. Well, everyone else bar one. Cedarstorm still stopped dead if he made eye contact with it.
It wasn't anger or blame Redfeather felt when he looked at the creature his mother died for. No, it was like a morbid curiosity. Here it was, a Tainted in the flesh wandering around their home. It slept beside them, it ate with them, it served their Clan, and eventually it would get a pair and have kits. Hawkstorm said the idea made him feel sick, and his own pair had agreed. But Redfeather didn't feel revolted.
"Do they always look like that?" a quiet voice asked.
Redfeather jumped and looked down at the snow coloured apprentice. "Don't sneak up on me, Whitepaw, and yes, they always look like that."
She frowned, "I thought they'd look more like monsters. You know, big fangs, ugly faces, gnarled wounds."
"Your imagination runs away with you. Go find your mentor," he scolded.
When she was gone he found himself watching Cedarstorm as he deposited a squirrel on the pile under the scrutinous eye of Stormshadow. Someone had to teach it how to function like a Clan cat. Whitepaw's words played on him. Tainted were monsters, cursed to succumb with such ease to the Poison. Strange that their appearance had stayed so normal; hadn't deformed to match the sin in their blood. Stormshadow nipped at his ears, and Cedarstorm shrunk into himself.
The rusty grass loomed in the corner of his eye. His mother's final wail echoed. Redfeather made his fur lie flat and took a heaving breath in. It would be such a waste of a significant life if Cedarstorm was found buried three feet under in a few days. Icestar had never been a warm mother, no PureClan Queen ever was. But she was his mother, and he shared her blood, so that meant something.
"I'll look after him," he found himself saying to Stormshadow, "I know you've got other things you wish you were doing."
He was a lean, weaselly looking tom with a name that did not suit him. Quailstar had been thrilled to be his pair. "You aren't nervous about catching the Poison?" Stormshadow said quietly.
"If we could catch the Poison from simply being around the Tainted we'd be catching it every raid," Redfeather sighed. "I know Quailstar appointed you as his whatever but I doubt she'll mind if I take over for a bit."
Stormshadow looked visibly relieved. "Thanks, good luck."
"What does he expect you to do," Redfeather muttered, more to himself, "attack me?"
In an act of bravado that took him by surprise, Cedarstorm stood up and hissed. "Do you think I don't have it in me to do that?"
Redfeather blinked at him, confused. Then he huffed a soft laugh. "You killed Cedarpaw, we're all very aware that you're capable of killing. You'd be very stupid to try anything murderous while in the heart of the enemy, surrounded on all sides."
"It was a stupid accident," Cedarstorm grumbled.
"Call it what you want but you're still here alive while Cedarpaw is not. If I were you I'd take this very graciously given second chance." Mice were always his favourite, so he dug through the pile until he found one.
When he straightened up Cedarstorm was watching him closely. "What do you want?" he demanded. "To torment me endlessly like the rest of these monsters?"
There was a nice patch of late afternoon sun nearby, so that's where he stretched out, completely aware of the Tainted gaze following him. Lazily he gestured to the stain. "That was my mother." He made sure Cedarstorm met his mismatched gaze, made sure he could see right into the yellow of Icestar. "I would hate for her death to go to waste. So try not to throw yourself into death's jaws. Now I'm due for a nap after this mouse, so go make friends. If you're lucky I'll teach you some priority PureClan survival lessons tomorrow."
With the sun warming his full belly, Redfeather stared up into the sky. Thick clouds meandered slowly by ushered on by a weak breeze. He hoped when he died that he would get the chance to know the mother he had seen lay down her life for a Tainted instead of the mother that had risen to power from a sea of blood and ice.
"You," Quailstar commanded the following morning only mere heartbeats after the sun had risen. "Come with me."
Garbling nonsense that got him a sneer Redfeather tumbled out of his nest, mouth opened wide in a sharp yawn. Through sleepy eyes, he saw Hawkstorm's tail whisper out of the grass and Heronmist drop into a long stretch. "What's this about?" he asked.
Was it his sleep-addled mind or did Quailstar look particularly malicious? There was definitely a glint of something in her eyes. Could have been the morning light though. "Family discussion," she purred.
"A what? We've never had one of those before." Hardly anyone else was awake. Who would be? It was barely past dawn and a little cold. Perhaps if Redfeather hadn't been so sleepy he might have noticed the soft glare of green eyes.
Pheasantfang and his apprentice, Thrushpaw, said hello as they left the camp. Apparently, some herbs preferred being picked in the cool shadow of the early morn. With bones that creaked from a night twisted in an uncomfortable position Redfeather trailed after his siblings, and niece. He couldn't even begin to fathom what Quailstar wanted with the three of them. Maybe she was going to murder them all for being Icestar's direct descendants; did she forget she herself had the same blood, just a little less of it?
"What do you want?" Heronmist yawned.
Quailstar definitely looked malicious now, and a tad excited. "Well," she began, drawing the word out into a purr. "I have some information that I think you three will find riveting."
It was most certainly not going to be good news, Redfeather already knew that. Nothing good happened when Quailstar was smiling. At least Hawkstorm looked excited. "Could it not have waited until after sunrise?" Heronmist muttered.
"You are all the product of the Poison."
For a few moments, Redfeather just blinked blankly at her. Them? The product of the Poison? Had she forgotten who their mother - her grandmother - was? He snorted in disbelief. Of every PureClan cat that had ever existed Icestar came right after Brightstar in the likelihood to be Tainted. She was her namesake: cold to the core.
Hawkstorm broke the silence with a voice that cracked. "You're lying."
"Why would I lie?" Quailstar snapped. "Her toxic blood runs in my veins too, though less potently than it does in yours. Because of that, I elected to not inform the whole Clan of their previous leader's sin."
Of course, the news would tear at Hawkstorm more than anyone else. He had been the first of them to truly absorb PureClan's ferocious hatred of the Poison. It was his dream to be a perfect Clan warrior and his duty as deputy to protect their way of life. But to hear this? To be told that in his veins ran blood thick with sin?
The next to fall was Heronmist. There was not so much riding on the purity of her bones. But it was the panicked going over of all past interactions desperately hoping no trace of that foul Poison could be seen that he watched play over his dear sister's face; like a stormcloud devouring the sun. A front paw came up and scratched gently at her chest as if she could just tear the sin from her skin. It would not work, it was a sickness with no cure: a death penalty.
"What other evidence do you have besides your word?" she spat at Quailstar.
Strangely, Redfeather himself felt almost nothing. It was as if a part of his mind just could not fathom the thought of his mother feeling anything other than cold. Was their father truly Eaglestar? Surely two great leaders of PureClan could not - would not - fall in love with each other. Impossible. Absolutely impossible. So, who were they? Who was their father? Who had done the unthinkable and infected Icestar?
Quailstar curled her lip. "As leader my word is law, and as I said moments ago why would I lie about something as heinous as this?" She sighed. "But if you insist, I was approached by some city cats that hoped by sharing information they could secure safety. They told me they had witnessed Eaglestar and Icestar, along with Solace the old city boss and her goons, in an alleyway. According to them it was an execution for Eaglestar, they started killing him over and over until they couldn't take it anymore. So Icestar killed them, then admitted that this was all happening because she had fallen in love with him, and then she killed Eaglestar."
It wasn't hard to admit that it sounded very much like something Icestar would do. Destroy the problem without destroying herself. A chill settled over him; perhaps it had destroyed her as well.
Heronmist scrunched her face in disgust. "So her grand reign was all built upon her worst sin? The stories of her accomplishments will be spoken of for seasons and no one will ever know she was infected."
"So we aren't telling anyone else?" Hawkstorm sounded relieved.
"Most definitely not!" Quailstar snapped. "This sensitive information does not go beyond us. If I find out you've told anyone I'll butcher you - and that is a promise."
In moments like this Redfeather could really see his mother in Quailstar; a ghost haunting its killer, a lingering face in still water. "Why did you tell us then?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I felt that you three deserved to know so that you could be on guard. We still don't know if the Poison can be passed down."
With that, the dawn discussion was finished. Quailstar began speaking to Hawkstorm about raid business, and Heronmist floated off towards the forest lost deep in her own mind. Redfeather himself was unsure of what to do now. It seemed that his world had been pushed ever so slightly off its axis and realignment was impossible. There would be no returning to the way it was before, not with what now sat heavy on his shoulders; the knowledge that his mother had once known love in ways PureClan should never.
Somewhere, far down in the dark, it stung that she had loved another but never him.
/-\
His name was Addler.
He had three older siblings in the City. Three older siblings that ever since birth had outshined him. Lyle with his brawn, Theodora with her brains, and Finn with both. But he had loved them all regardless; his family, his home, his life. A life of anonymity didn't seem so bad with them.
Until PureClan found them. A monster wrapped in sleek gray fur, blood dripping from an open maw. Sweet mother put herself before them, curled her lip and bared her teeth, then died screaming. Lyle cried, his leg snapped in two, Theodora begged, Finn stared blankly, and he...he hid under a dumpster shaking like a leaf. The monster laughed.
Often, after he had joined a tiny rebellion of sorts, he stood on the edge between City and Forest and watched the ghosts of his family disappear into the trees.
Now he was Cedarstorm and he lived within those trees.
Icestar had been nothing but a name, and a nightmare, when he had stumbled upon that patrol in the woods. Sickly fear had curled deep in his belly, swelled in his throat. He clung to his plan. The monsters would take him into their depths, and then he would slay their Queen. Funny, it had seemed so straight forward back in the City, so simple and easy.
The Pit ruined him. The smell, the screams, the blood. The knowledge that he may be left to rot in the deep dark; or that he would slip on something wet and snap his neck. His dreams ran wild, feral. They visited him; Lyle, Theodora, Finn, and Mother. They cried for him, with him. Because in the end PureClan had claimed their whole family.
Until it didn't.
His memory of what happened in that horrible circle in their horrible camp was foggy. But he remembered the crack, and the coldness that settled when that vicious apprentice died.
He remembered seeing her with his own eyes for the very first time. Shining white, her face a fading brown. She looked tired and her body was riddled with old wounds and new wounds. Her eyes - such a cold yellow - looked straight at him, and they rippled with shock and horror and something else he thought could have been love. No PureClan leader was capable of love.
The Clan demanded he pay blood for blood. Death for death. A poisoned life for an 'innocent' one. While they screamed and shouted, while they jostled and jeered, Icestar stared at him eyes glassy like she was somewhere far away from her bloodied camp.
"What's your name?" she'd asked over the noise.
"Addler," he'd whispered.
Make a vow. Bind himself to PureClan - a life for a life - and live. The possibilities played out on his eyelids, the things he could learn about these creatures, their weaknesses, their strengths, their secrets. All would be invaluable to the tiny resistance hiding in the shadows of the City. It didn't cross his mind until much later that he needed to be alive in order to feed information back home.
When they dragged Icestar from her den, when an usurper crowed that an execution would take place, he began to realise just how unprepared he was for the deadly game every PureClan soul played. A bloody cat and mouse like warfare with each other. They'd kill her, and they'd kill him. Then she saved his life. Again. Icestar, monster of PureClan, looked him in the eye with no disgust, no hatred, and sacrificed herself. For the first time since the slaughter of his family Addler's rage was silenced. She did not fight. She did not beg. She looked her murderers in the eyes and walked into Death's waiting embrace. It had made him feel almost guilty for what he would do with her death; that he would use it to ultimately destroy her Clan.
He didn't feel guilty anymore.
Being one of them was terrifying. Addler felt like he was a lamb lost deep in the woods, surrounded by wolves - all it would take was one slip and he'd be dinner. At best PureClan treated him like he was invisible, or a bit of dirt stuck to their paw. At worst they openly despised him, bared their teeth, outright refused to be anywhere near him lest they catch the Poison.
But it was also fascinating. They were so normal at times that it was very easy to forget what horrors they frequently practiced. The young were treasured and educated. The old lived in luxury, their every need seen to, their every desire granted.
He'd begun to wonder, quite frequently, just where it had all gone wrong. At what point did the monstrous ideal that love is poison sweep into PureClan and morph it into the creature it was today? Had it always been there? Had some stranger started a cult one day? Had the Gods raged at the world so much they infected some poor cats with such a vicious mission? Addler wanted to know so desperately the history behind the bloodbath.
It was how he found himself following Redfeather beyond the safety of the camp into the murky forest beyond. Aside from the mandatory border patrols and hunting parties Addler did not like to stray from camp; it would be far too easy for a shadow to creep up behind him, for someone's claws to 'slip'. Strangely, however, he trusted Redfeather to a degree. There was something ever so slightly different about him compared to the rest.
"Will you tell me about your Clan?" Addler asked a little while later, as they hesitated by the river. "Where it came from?"
Redfeather eyed him curiously. "It's your Clan now too." Then he sighed, crouched on the pebbled shore, and watched the river. "But I suppose you best know our history if you want to fit in. Our founder was Brightstar, and a long time ago we lived far from here. We weren't called PureClan then. We didn't fear the Poison, didn't kill those we thought were infected by it. Brightstar discovered love's true danger and proposed to the other Clans that it should be banned. They called her crazy, denied her request, laughed her away from the Gathering. So she took her entire Clan and disappeared into the night. Our ancestors arrived here, found it to be perfect for what they needed and we've never left since."
"It all sounds so...normal," Addler replied. He felt almost disappointed. Where was the villain that had manipulated them into believing love was evil? It was impossible for him to understand how this Brightstar had just arrived at such an outlandish conclusion.
"There are many slightly different versions of how we came to be PureClan. I'm sure if you ask around you'll hear the bloodier, more vicious tale -" the warrior shrugged -"but in the end does how we got here truly matter? We're here now, and I doubt we'll ever disappear again."
Panic pinched at Addler. This Clan was a behemoth, a being of immense power, set deep in their traditions, always baying for blood. How could any outsiders hope to destroy them? They were an army always marching to war, and the City was just another target to vanquish.
"You'll see the truth eventually. The Poison will purge itself from you, and then you'll truly be one of us." Redfeather said it so casually not intending to be threatening but those words hit Addler like a blow. Perhaps he meant it to be soothing. But all he could think about was losing himself in this nightmare place, becoming the very monster he'd sworn to kill.
"Oh well lookie here." It was a thin voice, a bit high pitched, but definitely nasty and it belonged to Nightwing. She had Bonetooth, Robinleap, and Owlfoot with her and they looked hungry. This was exactly why Addler didn't go for jaunty walks in PureClan's shadowed forest. Here, on the river's edge deep inside enemy lines, would anyone protect him?
The pebbles shifted as Redfeather rose to his feet, dropping lazily into a low stretch. "Out for some hunting?" he asked them.
Owlfoot's eyes glinted in the mid-afternoon haze. Everything about the PureClan cats was predatory: they way they looked, the way they walked, even the way they talked. Surrounded and outnumbered Addler felt very much like the wolves had finally caught their lamb. "Of a sort," the green-eyed warrior purred.
The hulking cream warrior lurking a little ways behind the rest of the patrol Addler had seen around Redfeather before. Bonetooth. A monstrous creature that could probably kill him in one swipe. Fear roiled in his gut. Had they been waiting for him to get ever so slightly comfortable around Redfeather? Had they anticipated he would want to learn about his new prison? It was a trap. His heart beat a frantic rhythm.
"Say, Redfeather," Robinleap said coyly. "Would you mind turning a blind eye for a little while? Go for a wander back through the trees and into the meadow, perhaps?"
Behind Addler, Redfeather made a soft noise of displeasure. "Now why would I do that when I'm perfectly content by the river?" He prowled by Addler's side, and Addler flinched. Any moment now he expected the sting of claw through flesh, the bite of teeth into bone. "You wouldn't be trying to shoo me away for suspicious reasons now would you?"
"Enough," Bonetooth spat. "Don't pretend. We want it gone, it doesn't belong here with us. You can either walk away or join in. It's up to you."
He was scared. He was terrified. As much as Addler hated this forest and the Clan, he didn't want to die. Not this way, no doubt brutal and intensely painful. Despite his terror he curled his lip, bared his teeth, and hissed at them.
But it was Redfeather's thundering snarl that took the warriors by surprise. "You'd kill your own Clanmate?" he spat at them. "You'd break the Code?!"
At least Bonetooth had the decency to look a little ashamed, and Owlfoot looked away. Nightwing laughed. "I hardly count the Tainted as a Clanmate. He could slip his Poison into our blood when we sleep, whisper his curse into our ears. We're a stronger breed, Redfeather, because we guard ourselves so well against the Poison. Letting one of them into our home puts all that to waste!"
"Let me be extremely clear with you," Redfeather said, a promise of violence dripping from his tongue. "The penalty for traitors - and that is what you would be if you murdered a Clanmate in cold blood - is your own deaths. Execution in front of everyone, and then burial with your backs to StarClan so they never come for your soul."
Addler's legs trembled. For a brief time he'd forgotten that Redfeather was just as much of a monster as the rest. How much blood stained his paws? How many ghosts haunted his sleep? And yet he - a PureClan warrior of practically royal blood - was threatening his own friends to protect a Tainted. Strange how Icestar's bloodline seemed inclined towards protecting him.
"But don't take me for a fool," Redfeather continued."I know how little Quailstar would care if this wayward Tainted fell in the forest and snapped his poor neck. Cedarstorm is under my protection and I'll slit the throats of anyone that dares to attack him. Understand?"
Two moons before Addler made the attempt to sneak inside enemy lines PureClan launched a particularly savage attack on the City. Unbeknownst to the Clan the area they'd targeted housed the meagre scraps of a rebellion. So that rebellion sent out its few soldiers to save as many as they could. He was one of them. Under the cold glare of the moon he crept down alleyways, coaxing terrified City cats out of their poor hiding places and back to the supposed safety of the rebellion's dilapidated headquarters. For hours he listened to the screams of those not so lucky, to the laughter and excitement of those that hunted. When dawn was but a smudge on the horizon he returned home.
Only to find Icestar and her monsters, dripping in blood, playing with the innocents he had saved. Chasing them like it was a game. Murdering mothers in front of kittens. Pretending to let a few go, then slicing them open from throat to tail. In the middle of it all was Icestar; her white coat turned to scarlet. He watched as the fur along her hackles bristled, watched as she snagged a skinny tom when he ran passed and tore his throat out.
They survived that night. Rebuilt the tiny rebellion with new purpose. No longer would they let their own streets run red with blood. They wouldn't cower and hide anymore. He volunteered first to bring the fight to PureClan.
It had brought him to this moment by the river - death pacing the shoreline - seeing the ghost of Icestar in Redfeather's ruffled hackles and eyes clouded by rage. He wasn't here to be rescued by the monsters that had already taken so much from him. He was here to kill them all. Rolling over whenever they so much as hissed at him was no longer acceptable.
Addler shouldered Redfeather out of the way ears pressed flat to his head, and put himself whiskers away from Nightwing - so close he could feel the air she breathed. "I killed my way into this Clan. Just like you. PureClan blood looks quite nice on my claws."
"The nerve!" Robinleap shouted, his face twisted into a furious snarl.
"My, my." He expected anger from Nightwing, outrage and her teeth in his skin. But instead she looked almost impressed. "We'll see who comes out on top, fierce Tainted. You're in our world now." Then she left as quickly as she'd arrived, taking her lackies with her.
He and Redfeather stayed silent. They let the breeze lay their hackles flat, let the river's bubbling settle their erratic hearts. Addler felt absolutely exhausted. The adrenaline seeped out of his veins and left his body parched.
"Why'd you do it?" he rasped.
Redfeather lay his mismatched gaze on Addler; studying, curious. He often noticed the warrior watching him, felt his wandering eyes. "I don't know. In her prime my mother killed with no discrimination; Tainted from every walk of life fell under her claws. Yet she saved your life, made you one of us. I would like to see what she saw in you, which would be very difficult if you were dead."
"So we're friends then?" Addler snorted.
He wasn't ready for the peal of laughter Redfeather let out. "Yes, Cedarstorm. I guess that makes us friends of a sort."
/-\
Redfeather was dreaming.
He knew this because he'd watched Icestar die. Yet here she was so much younger and alive, trying so earnestly to master her hunting crouch.
The edges of her body were blurred with an ever so slight glow, drawing Redfeather's eyes to her. He wondered who's eyes he saw her through. Was StarClan communicating with him?
"Your legs are shaking. Hold still." A cat he didn't recognise slipped between him and his mother; a broad tortoiseshell. "Even the slightest movement can give away your position," she said.
Icestar, so young and soft. She looked completely different and yet also the same. Though Redfeather had only known her for a short period of her life he would recognise the gleam of her blue eyes anywhere. No one could match their bottomless, frozen depths.
The glow around her dissipated as a body hurtled through him, dropping into what he now recognised as the training pit. Tawny gold, lean, and grinning from ear to ear this stranger shouted, "can we join you!?"
"Sorry to disturb," an older voice sighed. "I did tell him to wait patiently, but I don't think Eaglepaw knows what patience is. If you're busy we can train elsewhere, Lilypath."
"No, it's fine. My apprentice could do with letting off a little steam. Would you be opposed to some sparring between the two of them, Silverscar?" Lilypath asked, welcoming them into the pit with a sweep of her tail.
Icepaw rose out of her crouch, cold eyes narrowed, but the twitch of her tail gave away her excitement. He knew that feeling. The thrill of tussling with each other in the dirt, not yet knowing what it felt like to truly battle for your own survival. He'd give anything to know that thrill once more.
"I won't go easy on you," the golden apprentice crowed. Eaglepaw darted at her, then jerked away at the last moment. Teasing. Playing.
The next time he did it Icepaw swept his paws out from under him. She rested a forepaw on his throat. "Oh no, however shall I win. He says he won't go easy on me! I might as well go back to camp without even trying."
Icepaw laughed, and a sharp wind tore through the forest ripping the dream into darkness. He blinked in the sudden pitch black, his heart thudding loudly.
"Hello." It was a quiet, hesitant greeting from someone standing behind him. Yet in the dark silence it boomed and echoed.
Redfeather whipped his head around, and there stood a tomcat wreathed in a muted, silver glow. It was hard to concentrate on him, his form blurred like a long lost memory. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Ah that doesn't matter right now," the stranger said. "You're dreaming by the way. But also not? Does it count as dreaming if it's an event that actually happened?"
"It's from Icestar's apprenticehood, isn't it? She's changed a lot but I recognise her," Redfeather interrupted.
"She was happier then. We all were. The innocent, fun-filled days of apprenticehood make us so unprepared for the harshness of our world."
Redfeather risked a step towards the silver stranger so curious to sneak even a slight glance and who hid behind that light. "Why was I dreaming of it? Surely StarClan must be involved, is something wrong?"
They sighed. "Many things are wrong, Redfeather, but you aren't ready to hear them yet. Do you miss her?"
His heart lurched uncomfortably, because on some level he did. But this was StarClan and they could never ever know he cared. Icestar would be remembered for her ferocity, for her bloodlust, and for her death. He couldn't put her legacy at risk. So he lied. "No, I don't miss her. Quailstar is a good leader I'm sure we'll thrive under her."
The stranger sighed again but this time it was filled with disappointment and roared through the darkness. It whipped through Redfeather's fur, such a gale that it nearly lifted him off his paws. "One day -" their voice thundered in the darkness - "you'll see."
Redfeather jerked awake in his nest a startled cry caught in his throat. He needed air. Outside dawn was still only a gentle blush touching the trees. His pair, Bonetooth, gave him a dismissive look from her post at the camp entrance. Ignoring her he pitched his head back to stare at the cold sky and the stars that winked back. He wanted to know who had spoken to him; why they'd shown him his mother's memory. Had it been a trick? A test?
"Are you okay?" Cedarstorm was the last cat he wanted to deal with right now.
He didn't expect to see actual concern in the Tainted's eyes; that endless green gaze, he could drown in it forever. Then he caught a glimpse of Icestar's bloodstain and fear drowned him instead. "I'm not supposed to miss her," he whispered. "But I think I do."
Bonetooth told him to bring back a mouse when he brushed past her, leaving Cedarstorm sitting by himself in the low light of dawn.
/-\
"Where'd you go the other night?" Hawkstorm never really asked a question. He demanded an answer and didn't care at all if you didn't want to give it. No sense of empathy or politeness; a PureClan thing.
Redfeather sighed. "Just out hunting, I couldn't sleep. Is that okay with you?"
"I don't care what you do with your free time," his brother replied. "As long as it doesn't involve our Tainted guest and I use the word 'guest' very lightly. Bonetooth told me what happened by the river. You should have let them kill him."
An ugly feeling stirred in Redfeather's gut. "Is that your opinion or the opinion of our Clan deputy?" he muttered.
"They are one and the same. I'm the deputy, therefore my opinions hold more sway than yours. Why didn't you let them kill him?" Hawkstorm pressed. "It wouldn't exactly be a loss."
"Because he's a Clanmate now! Icestar named him a warrior before she died, that makes him one of us. We can't just go around killing Clanmates," he spat.
Hawkstorm laughed. "We did with Icestar, quite easily too. She was weak which was making the Clan weak. Same thing goes with the little Tainted runt." He nosed Redfeather in the side, an annoying and persistent poking. "Why do you care? You spend one afternoon with the creature and suddenly you're littermates?"
"I don't care," Redfeather hissed. "I just want to uphold our mother's legacy, and part of that legacy lives on in Cedarstorm!"
"Our mother's legacy is a twisted, Tainted thing dripping in lies and blood. Don't you ever forget why she clawed her way to the top. She was Tainted, brother. Poisoned. Her legacy is everything we stand against. It disgusts me, and it should disgust you too." Hawkstorm kept his voice low, his eyes scanning the camp to make sure no one could hear.
The ugly feeling in Redfeather's gut was boiling into something like rage. All he ever heard now was how weak and cowardly Icestar had been. It's like everyone had instantly forgotten just how much she'd done in her lifetime; all the territory she'd gained them in the city, all the raids and Tainted they could want - and they'd repaid her by pinning her in the dirt and slitting her throat. The more he thought about his mother the worse he felt, and the more he realised why these feelings were outlawed.
"Whatever, Hawkstorm, I'm not in the mood for arguing with you. Did you actually want something or are we done?" he asked bitterly.
His brother perked up with a soft mew. "There was actually! I figured since you're so close with the Tainted that you could be the one to let him know we're planning on raiding the city in a few days." Hawkstorm's grin was all teeth and malice. "I'm sure the dear little runt will love to know. He's not coming though, can't risk him slipping away and giving up all our secrets."
Ah. Cedarstorm was not going to like that news at all. It didn't stop the thrill that ran through Redfeather; maybe a raid would take his mind off his mother and that Tainted. Maybe it would make him feel better. It had been far too long since the last one.
"I'll tell him."
"Good, and then you can stop talking to him. My plan is to isolate him to the point that he just throws himself in the river and drowns. Doesn't count as us killing him so that keeps StarClan happy." Hawkstorm left him with that pleasant plan, trotting off to his pair's side with a happy flick of his tail.
Redfeather found Cedarstorm loitering curiously by the male medicine cat den, watching Pheasantfang show Thrushpaw how to wrap a cobweb round Shadestreak's leg.
"We hardly ever see anything like this in the City," Cedarstorm said in way of greeting. "All the good healers are busy tending to the City bosses. Us less important cats just die if we get sick."
That sounded awfully brutal. Redfeather couldn't imagine getting sick or injured and not having Pheasantfang around to fix him. "Sounds like a hard life."
Cedarstorm shrugged, "when it's all you know it doesn't seem hard. Do you need something?"
"I do, would you come for a walk with me?"
He couldn't blame the little tom for looking sceptical. They hadn't spoken since Redfeather's abrupt admission a few nights ago, and the last time they'd gone for a walk Nightwing and her group had tried to kill him. He hoped there would come a time that Cedarstorm didn't fear the forest, or what lurked in it. Some fighting training might help.
Distracted, he missed Cedarstorm's answer and zoned back in on his owlish green eyes blinking slowly at him. "I said okay?" Cedarstorm repeated.
"Oh, sorry. Let's go. We won't go far."
PureClan's forest was thick enough that it didn't take long before the camp disappeared from sight and sound. A deluge had soaked everything the night before and by the time they settled in a mostly dry spot raindrops clung to their whiskers. Cedarstorm's golden coat was streaked with dark, damp patches.
"Alright," he said, "we're damp and uncomfortable. What's so important?"
Suddenly the words were stuck in Redfeather's throat. Why was it so hard?! Raiding was such a normal aspect of PureClan life, Cedarstorm was going to encounter it again eventually. But...he'd seemed to be doing so well recently. Adjusting. Becoming one of them, albeit very slowly. Deep down, and he was loathe to admit it, he worried this would ruin that. Disturbed by his train of thought he curled his lip and shook himself. PureClan cats didn't care.
"We're going to the City in a few days."
Regret was an emotion Redfeather was vaguely familiar with. The first time had been on a border patrol that stopped by the Pit. He was an apprentice by three moons, beginning to understand and become numb to PureClan's regime, and trying to meet his brother's enthusiasm at getting to see the muddy, foul-smelling hole they kept their Tainted in. Quaildapple's kits were having their warrior trials, and so three lives were needed.
Someone was screaming at the top of their lungs; a scrap of dirty white fur as they were hauled out of the Pit. "No!" But it wasn't the white cat that was screaming. "Take me! Please don't take her!" They were bleeding from a jagged wound on their chest, but the screaming silver she-cat threw herself with no hesitation out of the hole.
"Get back in the Pit or I'll throw you in myself," Icestar snarled.
"I don't want any trouble! Just, please don't take her. She's too young to die. I'll go instead, please, I'll go willingly!" they begged, their voice raw and shaking.
Back then Redfeather had been so in awe of how effortlessly his mother ran the Clan. "If you insist. Reedstripe, take the screaming one instead." She took the white scrap off her warrior and let it shiver by her paws with such a glint in her eyes. "Though I should let you know, we like you to have at least a little unwillingness, makes it much more interesting."
Regret was the look in that she-cat's dying eyes when Lakepaw gutted her, hours after watching Icestar slit her kit's throat.
It had been what he'd felt when Icestar bled to death in front of him.
It was what he felt now watching Cedarstorm come to the horrifying realisation of what Redfeather meant. The dimming in his glorious eyes, the anger gathering like a thundercloud, the hurt. "Right. Do they expect me to take part?" Cedarstorm asked quietly.
"No. You...they can't trust you not to run away and tell other Tainted about our home," he answered.
"Good. I would rather die than help any of you torture and terrorise the innocent cats just trying to live their lives!" he shouted, rage pulling his face into a snarl. "Did you seriously think I would want anything to do with this?! I am not a PureClan warrior, and I never will be!"
Redfeather's regret curdled. "Your life rests on you convincing everyone you want to be one of us. Do you even understand what Icestar did? What she risked!? One day you'll be on a raid, what will you do then?"
A growl thundered in Cedarstorm's throat as he thrust his face into Redfeather's. "I didn't ask for your mother to sacrifice herself for me. I didn't want this, any of it! Death would have been better than living in fear everyday of my life, waiting for one of your monstrous Clanmates to catch me alone."
"Do you see me like you see them?" Redfeather asked abruptly. "Am I as monstrous as them?"
Cedarstorm gave him a cold, dismissive look. "Yes."
It felt like the rake of claws over his chest, digging deep and cruel. Redfeather hated it. "We do the world a favour when we purge the City every few moons. The Poison must be destroyed. It's dangerous!"
"Love isn't dangerous. It's beautiful, and it makes life worth living."
"All the pain in your life is because of the Poison, why can't you see that!? Why can none of you see that?!" he cried.
Cedarstorm laughed, loud and full of bitterness. He stepped out of Redfeather's reach with his ears pinned flat, glorious eyes brimming with tears. "All the pain," he whispered, "that I have felt in my life has been because of PureClan. You killed everyone I had. Now I have nothing. Now I am nothing. I hope you die in the City, all of you."
/-\
Blood splattered the stone, the wall, and his face. His sides heaved as he fought to fill his lungs, pain burning from the long gouges across his ribs. But the blood soaking into his paws made him feel so much better. A final wheeze burst from his prey as their eyes glazed, head sagging back against the cold ground.
It was a cloudy night in the City, the streets and alleys plunged into murky darkness. Occasionally the moon would make a shy appearance, peeking through a gap at the carnage going on below; silver rays illuminating the trembling shadows and spilt blood. PureClan's honourable justice carried out beautifully.
"Why? What have we ever done to you?" they whimpered, long past the point of begging for their Tainted, Poisoned life.
"You exist," Redfeather answered softly. "That is your only crime."
"We haven't done anything!" they wailed.
He sighed, turning away from the body to face the crying tortoiseshell crouched in the light of a street lamp. They were a thin, shaggy she-cat with a ripped left ear and sad amber eyes. "Love is a foul thing supposedly. I have been taught from birth to fight against it." Scowling he looked down at his stained paws. "My mother was the strongest of us all and yet she became Tainted. I fear her mistake has Tainted my blood."
They were crying again, soft little hitches and sniffles. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I have no one else to tell except some nameless stranger that will soon be dead." Something had fractured inside the day in the woods with Cedarstorm. He wasn't supposed to care about anything! And it frustrated him to the point of blind rage not understanding why. "My life was fine before he showed up. Now it's complicated."
"My name is Hallie. Please...please don't kill me."
He shook his head, disappointed. When his shadow fell over her she flinched and curled into an even tighter ball. "You ruined it," he said. "This only worked when you were nameless."
Hallie didn't scream, only cried and cried until her heart stopped.
Redfeather remained in the alley until he heard the Clan calling his name, wondering why the thought of Cedarstorm seeing what he'd done was worrying.
/-\
Up until a few days ago Addler had forgotten the bloodshed that came with PureClan. For almost three moons he'd been floating in pleasant denial, acting like there weren't monsters hiding within everyone of his 'Clanmates'. But this was a stark, bitter reminder.
They were blood spattered, tired, wounded, and victorious. Why wouldn't they be? PureClan was never beaten; they did not know defeat. It was terrifying, the way they talked about the crimes they had committed. The families destroyed. The lives carelessly tossed away.
His eyes found Redfeather in the crowd. The day he'd taken over from Stormshadow and began the perilous task of keeping him safe Addler had been struck by how...beautiful a monster could be. With his stunning mis-matched eyes - sunlit yellow and forest green - and strange coat of honey tinted brown he was very appealing to look at. It was an awful thing but Addler couldn't help letting himself watch the ripple of well used muscles. Never in his time in the City had he laid eyes on such raw beauty.
Now that raw beauty was tainted with the dark red hue of dried blood, streaked through the rich honey of his coat. A long, angry wound ripped across his side; another curled across his cheek and over his yellow eye. Still Addler struggled not to stare.
Redfeather turned, cold eyes sliding over him. The way he looked at him was only ever exciting or terrifying. In a crowd of victorious, bloody PureClan warriors with a strange sort of heat beginning to burn in them, Addler shivered.
Without a care for his Clanmates Redfeather pushed his way across camp, a slight limp the only indication he gave of his wounds. "Tonight," the warrior said, voice raspy, "in the meadow. Meet me there, we should talk."
They did need to talk. Addler had not forgotten how they'd parted before PureClan left on their raid - what had been said. He wouldn't take any of it back. The anger he felt towards every member of this Clan was justified by the loss of his family and the loss of his future. One day they would all pay. But he knew things were never so black and white. Perhaps deep down he hoped Redfeather might be capable of change; he missed his mother, that was a start.
"Okay," he replied. "The meadow."
Lilypool and Pheasantfang kept the Clan busy long into the evening, rushing them around in search of more cobwebs or herbs, demanding they help hold down their particularly difficult patients. PureClan never lost, but they certainly never left the City without a scratch. While wrapping a cobweb around Lakewing's leg she shocked Addler by telling him she thought the City cats might be getting stronger. He didn't risk asking any questions but he desperately wanted to.
It was hard not to fall asleep when he finally made it back into his lonely nest, shoved as far away from everyone else as possible. He practically slept outside the warriors den. But it made sneaking out much easier. Redfeather disappeared from the camp without even bothering to attempt sleep. A smart decision probably given how much his eyelids wanted to close. Addler gave it as long as he could before slipping out into the cold night.
Foxtalon's bushy tail flicked aimlessly in the shadows as he did a very poor job of guarding the camp. There were plenty of other little holes through which one could use to slip away into the night. Honestly Addler found it hilarious that PureClan even bothered to guard anything. Before him the City cats didn't dare come anywhere near their forest. Who else did they have to fear?
The sky was clear and filled to the brim with stars, the moon flooding the meadow with silver. It was beautiful. Apparently a gorge sliced through it somewhere along the edge, a border of sorts. He'd never really been brave enough to explore within the grass. Parts of it were very tall. Lovely for an ambush. But he wasn't scared tonight.
Silence aside from the breeze playing with the tall grass made it so easy to forget everything. To forget that he was a prisoner. That Redfeather was his captor.
"There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind."
He was beautiful in the sunlight.
He was ethereal in the moonlight.
Addler wanted. It tore him apart on the inside. It was a betrayal to his family, to the growing rebellion. It didn't change anything. The want burned him alive.
/-\
Redfeather's heart ached. He hated it. Looking at Addler bathed in moonlight golden fur turned StarClan silver it ached.
"Why wouldn't I come?" Cedarstorm asked as he shouldered his way out of the longer grass. He'd gone deep enough into the meadow to avoid prying eyes, and some strange desire for privacy. It was just them, the moon, and the stars.
"Ah, well we didn't exactly part on good terms," he admitted sheepishly. "Did we?"
Cedarstorm was watching him. "I don't regret the things I said, I meant all of it. This Clan is full of monsters, your way of life is monstrous. PureClan murdered my whole family, I think I'm allowed to be angry at you all."
"So you do think I'm a monster."
"Yes, and no. The things you've done make you a monster and the things you will do in the future might also make you one. But I've seen you care. Some part of you isn't PureClan, and that part isn't a monster."
A sudden gust of wind flattened the tall grass so Redfeather could see the trees, a black smudge in the distance. Some time ago, before Icestar's death, he would have laughed at the idea that he cared. He was a warrior, a descendant of a leader, he couldn't care. It wasn't in his blood. But he had to admit, something had changed. He knew now that he felt grief when he thought of his mother, that he regretted doing nothing when Quailstar and Hawkstorm killed her. He cared, even though it was too late to do anything about it.
"I'm sorry," he blurted. "I'm sorry my Clan killed your family. The pain I feel...it must be so much worse for you, for someone that can care and love without fear. Cedarstorm-"
"No, that's not my name. You can't pretend I'm someone I'm not anymore, Redfeather, and I can't pretend either. I am not a PureClan cat, I'm a City cat, a Tainted. But you're here anyway, we're friends regardless," he interrupted.
After a moment's hesitation, because asking this would change something he knew that much, Redfeather said, "what is your name?"
"It's Addler."
He pondered it, turned it over in his head before trying it out on his tongue. "I like it," Redfeather admitted quietly. "It's very...you."
"I have to ask you something now, and I need you to answer me truthfully." Addler caught his gaze and held it. "How many did you kill in the City?"
Redfeather felt the mood turning sour. It was much nicer when they could both pretend they lived in a simple world. "You can't pretend I'm someone I'm not either, okay? This is who I am, and who I have been for so long."
"How many?"
"Just four." He watched Addler flinch, saw the thunderclouds brewing once more behind his glorious eyes. "Normally it's more but I couldn't...before Icestar died and you showed up it was so easy to lose myself in the chaos and the fear. But this time all I could see was her bleeding all over the grass, or you in their place. I don't understand. Something's wrong with me. I'm supposed to kill without feeling or remorse. I'm supposed to hate you! Why can't I hate you?"
Addler's thunderclouds dissipated, replaced by a sort of strangled pity. "I can't tell you why you don't hate me. That's something you need to ask yourself," he said softly, and then started to get up.
"Will you stay?" Redfeather asked. "For a little while longer?"
"Do you want me to stay?"
"Please."
"Then I'll stay, for a little while."
a valentines gift for my swyfte~
part one of two. no editing we die like men.