Inspiration hit me so friggin hard yo, before completely yeeting out of existence.
Anyways, hope you're enjoying the weird as heck uploads, lol. And I hope you're enjoying the story! Please feel free to leave a review when you can! I positively adore feedback.
especiallywhenitsmylifeblood;w;
Nemora's eyes watched the mound of russet fur beneath the entrance to her cave.
He had hardly moved since he had flopped down before her three days prior, only the faint rise and fall of his flank showing that he was still alive.
On the second day, she had begun bringing him water from moss.
She knew that he wanted to hurt the Clans, but she still couldn't find it in her heart to let him die.
But still, he refused to speak to her, hardly touching the moss that she had brought him.
Something about it rubbed her wrong.
Something about him rubbed her wrong.
It made no sense to her why he acted this way, when just before he acted so cruel beneath Alpha's law.
But then again, Alpha died, a voice whispered gently. He's gone, so... That means Scorch is in charge.
With a hefty sigh, Nemora pulled herself out of her cave, making her way down to sit beside the russet fur as night began to fall over the forest.
She waited for him to speak, but silence fell against her ears.
After a while, she felt impatience build up, and she sighed, turning to him.
"Scorch," she rumbled gently. "Nemora wishes to know why you are here."
She waited for a response.
But there was only silence.
Her ears lower, and she gently prods him.
"Scorch," she repeats. "Nemora wishes to know why you are here."
Again, there is only silence, and Nemora grumbles under her breath.
With a sigh, she turns her gaze towards the sky.
"If Scorch is searching for pity from Nemora, he will find no such thing," she growls gently. "You are the enemy of Cindercall, and while Nemora is not meant to be biased, Nemora is... She will not give you what you seek."
For a moment more, there was silence, and she rose to her paws, ready to head out to hunt.
"You can't give me what I seek," Scorch's voice was hoarse and low.
Broken.
She turned to look at him, seeing that he had lifted his head, his green eyes dull as he looked at her.
"Only Cindercall can give me what I want," he croaked.
Nemora's ears twitched, and she shifted towards him, her eyes narrowed.
"And what is it that Scorch seeks?" She asks, her tail lashing.
His green eyes darkened, and he looked to the sky.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
But then a deep sigh filled his chest, and he closed his eyes.
"I seek an end to it all," he whispers, his voice almost impossible to hear.
Nemora stops, her eyes widening.
An end...?
She pauses, her claws digging into the ground.
Was this a trick?
Was he trying to earn pity from her?
And yet, there was something in his eyes that she recalled.
An ancient memory of a time when she had been put through misery beyond any point.
The look of defeat, stronger than any she knew.
"Why does Scorch seek the end?" She asks, rumbling. "Scorch knows that the end means he dies, no?"
For a moment more, he didn't reply.
And then Scorch lifted to his paws, though shaky, his ribs baring through his sides.
He turned to leave, his tail dragging in the dust.
But before he did, he turned one last look to her.
"I know what the end means for me," he whispered. "More than any other being."
Before Nemora could ask any other questions, he turned and disappeared into the night, his head low and his paws dragging in defeat.
Branch stared at the russet furred wolf that was dragging itself through the trees.
What was he doing out here? Far away from the pack?
Is he scouting? He thought anxiously.
But then he shook the thought away from his mind.
This was near Nemora's home; had the wolf gone to speak with her?
That seemed more likely.
Branch's eyes narrowed, his fur ruffled with anger.
If he's manipulating her, she could twist the Clans' thoughts! Feather could be in danger!
He had to figure out what Scorch had done.
If Sand found out he hadn't, he would be dead...
Branch strode forward as Scorch trudged further along the path that only he could see.
With a small snarl, Branch lunged forward, crossing his path.
"Scorch," he sneered, lifting his head higher. He needed to weave the answers out of him without arising suspicion. "Where's Amber?" He snarled. That'd be a good place to start. Maybe for once, the wolf would show some kind of remorse.
But, much to Branch's shock, Scorch didn't speak. He didn't even stop.
He simply moved around Branch, brushing past him.
For a brief moment, the sensation of the wolf's fur against his brought him back to a day he'd rather forget.
He turned to Scorch, his ears low, as the wolf began to pad away, just as he had so many seasons ago.
"You killed her, didn't you."
It wasn't a question. Not even an accusation.
Scorch stopped.
There was something about him that wounded Branch. Something he hadn't seen since that day.
"I did."
The truth took Branch by surprise.
He had expected an excuse. Some kind of rebuttal or retaliation. Something to try and remove the blame.
But Scorch seemed... Tired.
"Just like you killed Soot?"
The question slipped from Branch's jaws before he realized what he asked, and he almost flinched as the wolf turned to him, an agonized expression moving over his face.
There was a long silence.
A silence that made Branch's heart race as, for the first time in ages, he saw some familiarity in the wolf before him.
The wolf that he had once known as his brother.
"Mother sent you to watch me, didn't she...?" He echoed softly.
Branch's gut told him to lie, but he couldn't bring himself to.
You're weak. Sand's voice sneered into his mind.
But then he heard a gentler voice that had abandoned him so long ago.
But he's our brother.
He sighed.
"Yes," he murmured. "Sand wanted me to find you."
"I figured as much," he turned away from Branch. "It's okay, Branch." There was a hefty sigh from Branch's brother. "Nemora won't turn her backs on the Clans, and she doesn't know about what you're planning. Not that I know, either..."
Branch's ears lower.
I can't trust you! He sneered inwardly.
His eyes softened ever so slightly.
Right...?
"Branch..."
Branch's head lifted up, his ears twitching.
"What?"
Scorch's gaze fixated back to his, and much to Branch's surprise—and his horror—he could actually recognize him as the Scorch he once knew.
"Promise me one thing," his voice seemed to crack with an emotion that Branch couldn't discern. "Promise me that... That Feather..." Tears brimmed in Scorch's gaze. "That she'll survive, no matter what?"
Branch stepped back, shaken by the pleading voice that he heard from the harsh wolf before him.
This wolf had slaughtered so many of their pack as the Beta, killed Amber, fed wolves to his foxes...
But the wolf before him seemed so different from the Beta of Shade.
He's still in there... The voice whimpered. Scorch's still there...
Branch shook as memories swarmed him, and he could feel tears of his own building up.
"I promise," he whispered.
The look of relief in Scorch's gaze broke Branch's heart, and the wolf turned away from him.
"Thank you..."
Before Branch could speak further, Scorch dashed out of sight, disappearing deeper into the woods.
As the brown wolf watched him go, his gut churned with fear and guilt.
The words that Scorch had spoken... The plea he had cried...
It sounded too much like a goodbye...
Cindercall's ears lower as she looks to the sky, her fur ruffled with frustration.
The three days had passed faster than she had expected, and despite all her preparations with the others, she still felt worry and anxiety claw at her stomach.
If I'm not there... Her mind whispered softly. Will they die...?
If this were a different situation, she would have more faith in her Clanmates.
But this involved the Prophecy.
This involved her.
And she couldn't bear the thought of others dying because she was forced away.
She felt a cold nose press into her fur, and she looked to her right.
Nettlepelt had gently nuzzled her, his amber eyes gentle with understanding.
She met his gaze, sighing, before nuzzling him back.
And then she felt Pearlight's tail on her shoulder, and turned to see him nodding towards the warrior's den.
Hollypetal was slipping out of the den, yawning and blinking sleep from her eyes, and Cindercall cast another glance at the sky.
The sun had already risen a long time ago, and was nearing the center of the sky.
They were supposed to leave with the dawn patrol, but it was nearly midday.
Annoyance sparked in the grey warrior's pelt, and she glared back at the black she-cat as she strode over to them.
Pearlight stepped forward, his ears flicking.
"Glad you finally showed up," he sniffed, annoyed. "We were getting worried you went and died in your sleep."
If only, a nasty voice hissed in Cindercall's mind. The grey warrior shoved it down.
Everything she was going off of was based on the words of another Clan and her own beliefs. There would be no concrete proof until she could question Shadowcry herself.
Until she could see if the cat was truly as ill as Petalpelt had claimed.
"Are you three coming?" Hollypetal's venomous spit pulled Cindercall out of her thoughts, and she squinted at Hollypetal, who was waiting by the tunnel. "We haven't got all day to mosy about! We're already behind schedule!"
Gee, Cindercall sneered inwardly. I wonder who's fault that is.
But she held her tongue.
She would wait, for now.
Nettlepelt and Cindercall rose to their paws, following after Pearlight as he moved to follow Hollypetal, the black she-cat leading them outside of the camp.
As she did, Cindercall tossed one final look back to the camp, her eyes dimming as she saw Fleetpaw and Junipersky moving towards Redear.
She wished she could stay.
She wished she could help.
But with a deep sigh, she continued after the group.
She had to have faith...
