(OOC)
Four are helpless at the full moon's light
Four are slain in the dead of night.
The Ancient warriors' spirits within,
Rise once more to guide their kin.
Four must become one to make this right
Four will become as strong as the Ancients' might
Entwined with each, come seven moons,
To which the Clans must help each other or be set to doom.
Four are helpless at the full moon's light
Four are slain in the dead of night.
The Ancient warriors' spirits within,
Rise once more to guide their kin.
Four must become one to make this right
Four will become as strong as the Ancients' might
Entwined with each, come seven moons,
To which the Clans must help each other or be set to doom.
__________________________________
- Wolfstar
__________________________________
That omen.. ‘Four must become one..’
No matter how hard he tried to do so, Wolfstar still couldn’t get that strange, esoteric omen that he’d heard at the Starcave out of his head, and most likely wouldn’t be able to in the near future, partly due to its mysterious nature, and partly due to Waspfoot and his constant nagging and often random decision-making process. As weird as that cranky medicine cat was with his nosy mannerisms, however, he was still the more experienced interpreter of StarClan’s mysterious ways at the end of the day, and had just as much experience in healing sick cats and interpreting StarClan’s many messages as Wolfstar had in leading, if not more. He could respect the medicine cat for that, and he had also helped ThunderClan through the always tough leaf-bare, but neither of the two cats, thus far, had been able to make any sense of the message. Something like this was unheard of from StarClan—what could they have meant by this?
Who could they they referring to? Also... I don’t want to be seen as selfish, but why me? Why now? First, a Wolf omen from Redstar before he died, and now, this...
“Are you all right, Wolfstar?” A familiar voice to Wolfstar’s side drew him out of his stray thoughts as he turned to greet the emerald eyes of Graytail, the most senior of ThunderClan’s warriors, and his longtime friend. Had there not been a cat like Barkclaw around, Graytail definitely would be poised for the deputy position, but the old tom seemed to be comfortable enough right where he was, and any sense of jealousy towards his old friend was replaced with respect and service to his leader.
He nodded at Graytail. “Yes, I am. Thank you, Graytail.” As he gradually began to forget about the mysterious omens, Wolfstar took in the area that he was currently in—its sights, smells, and sounds all coming together in peaceful harmony. They were at the Twin Pines, two tall pariahs of trees that were perhaps older than the ThunderClan camp itself, standing high above the sea of oak trees that dominated their territory. It was used for a variety of purposes, including a fallback point during raids, a meeting area, and, as for now, a training area for the future warriors of ThunderClan. Barkclaw, Moleclaw, and Clawpelt—the “three -claws”, as Waspfoot would often inappropriately joke—were training their apprentices, Goldenpaw, Shadepaw, and Bearpaw, respectively, on battle tactics in the Twin Pines. They were all making remarkable improvements, but, just like much of the Clan, were greatly confused with the sudden and tragic death of Mossfeather, a seemingly healthy and young warrior, and Clawpelt’s mate, where she was found dead in their territory in broad daylight, and brutally murdered. Clawpelt especially seemed to be taking this personally, the rash, battle-scarred tom training Bearpaw extra hard to enact his revenge on whomever or whatever was responsible for the killing of his beloved. He could sympathize for Clawpelt, especially after having mentored him in the past, but he also had to remember that he wasn't the only one that was suffering. Similar events had been occurring to the other three Clans, who were likely going to bring this up during the Gathering at the full moon.
“Any luck on your investigation?” Wolfstar inquired, to which Graytail shook his head with a grunt. “Nothing, Wolfstar. When I found Mossfeather, she was bad, but it seemed she didn't go down without a fight. She had dirt and grime all over, masking her killer’s scent, but a trail of blood led away and disappeared once it reached ShadowClan's borders, and I couldn't identify the scent. I suspect it was a rogue, and Clawpelt is pointing his tail at ShadowClan, but neither ShadowClan nor some rogues would even dare to venture this far into our territory, especially around that Twoleg camp. It's Newleaf now, so they should be arriving there soon.”
“Strange.” Wolfstar noted with a light mutter as he watched Goldenpaw, Bearpaw, and Shadepaw spar under the watchful eyes of their mentors. “All the other Clans reported similar incidents to your story at around the same time. Four cats, four seemingly healthy cats, murdered in broad dayl—” He stiffened up, his amber eyes widening. How could I have been this blind, all this time..? Could this be..—
“Hm? Something wrong, Wolfstar?" Graytail asked.
It was perhaps by a stroke of luck or just pure coincidence that Waspfoot interjected him with his usual yowling, calling for their leader back at the camp. Wolfstar flattened his ears and gave a groan—this meant that either Waspfoot was calling him back to talk about the omen, or something ridiculous again. “He's calling me. Again.” He informed Graytail with a sign. "Hopefully, I won't be long."
After Graytail gave a nod, Wolfstar left, quickly darting back for the camp. It didn’t take long for the brown tabby tom to enter the camp and make his way to the medicine cat den, which was currently being occupied by Foxfur, another senior warrior who had whitecough during leaf-bare and was summarily quarantined by Waspfoot in a rather hasty yet comical manner, even though her case was mild. There was also Waspfoot himself, the lanky tom pacing back and forth in his den as Wolfstar entered, raising his head to let out another screech-call for his leader. “WOOLLFSTA-”
Wolfstar cringed, flattening his ears. “Right here, Waspfoot. You rang?”
“Ah, yes, you've come. Wolfstar, I want to grow catnip. I do not know how, but I will demand StarClan to teach me how, and I will do so. Oh, and I need chamomile, too. Just in case we take another long excursion to the Starcave." Waspfoot said, darting between various tasks—monitoring herbs, counting his stocks, and tending to Foxfur. “We barely survived that leaf-bare with this cretin’s whitecough. Were it not for my EXPERTISE in treating such a terrible disease, it would have worsened into GREENCOUGH and spread throughout the clan and picked us off like the Twolegs with their black sticks. By that time, there would be no more Foxfur, and no more ThunderClan. Bye bye, Foxfur, gone from GREENCOUGH! Bah!”
“I assure you, I’m fine.” Foxfur said, her normally elegant voice slightly more haggard than usual. “It was a milder leaf-bare than last season, and it'll take more than a cough to take down mighty me.”
“Agreed.” Wolfstar nodded. “In fact, I think this was a good leaf-bare, rarity of prey aside. Much better than last season.”
“Yes, yes, but we’re not done yet.” Waspfoot insisted with constant meows and gestures as he walked between the large tom and ginger she-cat. “The threat of GREENCOUGH is still high, so we must be PREPARED for it! I exhausted our reserves of catnip in treating Foxfur’s whitecough, but I need more. And chamomile. You happen to know where I will be able to find some catnip...and chamomile, Wolfstar.”
“..Er, yes..” Wolfstar nodded. “I do. The Plantation. The cats there are generous and would gladly let us get some if we needed it, and the Twolegplace may grow some, but I'm not certain the kittypets there would take too kindly to showing up unannounced. I’ll go inform the Warriors at Twin Pines to fetch some for you.”
“Much appreciated, Wolfstar!” Waspfoot cheerily mewed. “Now, you, Foxfur, you are still NOT well! Take everything that is given to you, and resume your duties ONLY when I deem you are well! Now have these herbs.”
Wolfstar left the den and returned to the Twin Pines, padding over to the two tall Pine trees. He returned to Graytail's side and called down to the cats to grab their attention. “That is enough for now.” He dipped his head to the three warriors and their respective apprentices. “I have a new task for you bunch now. Waspfoot has used up all our remaining catnip in treating Foxfur's whitecough. Barkclaw, I want you to lead the others and their apprentices to the Plantation and fetch us some more catnip...and chamomile. Why we need more is beyond my comprehension. You know the way well—and the apprentices need to do so, as well." He gave a nod to his deputy. "You may leave whenever you are ready.”
“But what about you, Wolfstar?” Clawpelt asked eagerly. “We still haven’t found the cat that murdered my mate. When I find him, I’ll flail him myself and turn him into crowfood.” He paused to look at his leader's facial expression. "...after we find him guilty after bringing him to justice."
Wolfstar sighed. “Graytail and I will continue our investigation into Mossfeather's death, so do not worry, Clawpelt. I’m using as many cats as I can to find them and bring them to justice, but I still need some guarding our territory as well, or else we'll stretch ourselves thin and leave ourselves open. Luckily for us, ShadowClan has agreed to form a truce to help us in our search, but Aeneas and his rogues are still a threat.”
“...I guess being the lover to the ShadowClan leader actually has its perks.” Clawpelt remarked, which warranted a stern glare from Wolfstar's amber eyes. “As I said, you may leave whenever you are ready, Barkclaw. Graytail, let's go."
The ThunderClan leader summarily left the area with the senior warrior, leaving Clawpelt, Barkclaw, and Moleclaw with their apprentices and a mission.
- Aeneas
__________________________________
Everything about the Twolegplace made their noses wrinkle in disgust. The loud flying monsters, the obnoxious Twolegs, ever-present acrid stench, everything was terrible about it. But for the small group of nomadic rogues that made up Aeneas's nomadic group, it was better than nothing. The Clans never offered them a place to stay, nor did any loner in the forest, so they had to revert to force to stay wherever they could. It was perhaps by a stroke of luck that Sgt. Colton didn't find out that they were taking refuge near the Twolegs' carrionplace, and summarily drive them out. The plump kittypet was a bit bird-brained, but he and his friends could fight—not to mention, Aeneas wasn't going to take any chances if that kittypet somehow alerted the Twolegs of their presence. After all, it had worked with the pack of dogs—the dog that called himself Harley was driven out by the Twolegs, or, as he called them, the "Longpaws," but was now taking refuge in the forest, apparently with the Clans' knowledge...
The thought of the Clans allowing a group of dogs to live in their forest infuriated the cats of Aeneas's group. As such, with little things to carry out their anger on, many cats often resorted to fighting each other over basic commodities like sleeping areas and food, or, in Dengar and Bowie's case, something as trivial as a simple discussion of the previous leaf-bare. Both cats were at each others' throats, ready to settle their differences on the dirty, hot, and smelly grounds of the Twolegplace.
“Why don't you understand?! We just barely made it past that leaf-bare, Dengar!” Bowie snapped, to which Dengar snapped back with a growl. “We made it regardless, Bowie. Do you want to know why? We made it because we ate the Twoleg’s carrion, and lived, Bowie. We made it becuase Aeneas willed it. Somehow. Everyone had their fair share of prey to eat, and everyone lived. If that’s not the definition of surviving, then I don’t know what is. You got through this scot-free by surviving off of the scraps, like everyone else. Like I did. Stop complaining."
“You’re a cheat, and a liar, Dengar. You know that?” Bowie said, perhaps referring to the rogue’s good condition compared to the others—he seemed well-fed and was free of any scars, injuries, wounds, or poultices, as opposed to the vast majority of the other nomads under Aeneas's command, who all seemed to be suffering from some way, either out of hunger, sickness, or their many battle scars. “We all know you hogged the food supply with Poppy and Aeneas since you're Aeneas's old friend. Poppy, I can understand, but you? That's selfish." He hungrily glared at the black and white tom who, despite being smaller than Bowie was, had a much bigger muscle mass, and was the opposite of intimidated right now. "If I had to, I would’ve eaten you and Poppy both, raw. That was how hungry I was, Dengar... That's not surviving. That's struggling. You wouldn't even be delicious, I bet.”
Dengar snorted. “Oh, please, cry me a river, Bowie. I’m sure you’d do even more than just eat Poppy if you had the chance, you scum.”
Both cats unsheathed their claws and lunged each other, Dengar briefly overtaking Bowie in terms of power before they began wrestling for control on the ground, hissing and scratching one another. A veritable crowd of nomads surrounded them, urging the fight on with their yowling and calls, before a sudden, deeper yowl, caused them all to stop.
“Stop it. All of you.” A deep voice from the corner of their encampment prompted both of the rogues and the others around them to halt, turning to face their leader. Aeneas stepped out from the shadows, his dark amber, almost red eyes judgingly glaring down both cats, while his fur was ruffled as usual. His fur stuck to his battle-scarred body, revealing powerful muscles hidden underneath his thick pelt, while the thicker mane-like tuft around his neck was regal as ever. He came out with Poppy, leaning a protective tail and shoulder over the young white she-cat, who seemed to be just above the age of an average apprentice in the clans, though was still younger compared to their warriors. Aeneas had trained her himself almost like a mentor, and was rather protective of her, given the scarcity of females in his group and her younger age, though she was well-hardened to battle and Aeneas's mysterious mannerisms. A cat could only dream, though...
The rogue leader glared at his underlings. “My two most loyal, most faithful enforcers...acting like a bunch of bird-brained simpletons. You should be ashamed of yourself, and thankful for what my expertise has provided this group.. You see, we have survived because we powered through that leaf-bare by sheer willpower alone. The Clans never cared for us, nor did the Plantation or Colton’s idiots at the Twolegplace, or that pack of dogs that are somewhere in the forest. We’ve cared for ourselves, as we always have. The clan cats and those dogs are misguided fools who think we are a bunch of barbaric rogues. No StarClan, no Great Dog in the Sky, no stealing, and no killing of our own was necessary for our survival.” He paced forwards, looming over both Dengar and Bowie by a longshot thanks to his height. “With that being said: leaf-bare is over. New-leaf will be upon us soon. Prey will be plentiful. You won’t have to whine about missing meals anytime soon, and you, Bowie, won't have to make any more ridiculous threats of eating your enemies out of sheer hunger. Our bellies will be full this new-leaf.”
“But.. how do you expect we're going to survive off of the Clans’ scraps, with those dogs in the forest now causing a ruckus?” Bowie tilted his head, to which Aeneas chuckled, briefly closing his reddish amber eyes. “I’ve been receiving more dreams, you see. I’ve seen things in my dreams that you cats wouldn’t believe in. Flying monsters that are like giant predators, soaring over the glowing mountains and Twoleg dens of the Twolegplace, and that can keep still in one place while flying. A vision of blood and darkness and fire in the Forest, and the Lake running red with blood, and a glowing red light bathing the Twolegplace. Though most of these visions are lost to me like pawprints in the snow, I have remembered many of them. In addition to my visions, I have trained, and trained, even in the dark forests of my dreams, with cats I do not know. Enemies of the clans and traitors, former rogues, the like—from times far before ours, too. They have taught me well and allowed me to improve as a leader and fighter..and even taught me how take a leader of all of his nine lives in one fell swoop."
“Poetic, but what does it mean for us?” Dengar asked.
“It means the Clans will be in disarray soon.” Aeneas said, pacing to an area where he could address his entire band of nomads. “Once they are in chaos, we shall act, and we shall prosper, taking back what should’ve been ours, but was selfishly kept by those Clan cats for many moons while we were cast aside and driven away. We’ve failed in the past, but now..with the rising tensions among the Clans—the paranoia, the fear—we have the perfect opportunity to act now. We shall finally have what is rightfully ours.”
Turning his head south, towards the massive Twin Pines of ThunderClan, and the burgundy roof of the Plantation covered in vines, he chuckled nefariously with a deep purr. “And I know where to start. Today is the day that the Plantation becomes ours, even if I must pry it from Zark's cold, dead claws.”
