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Pluck the strings of my web and
play a melody that will not ebb
It was then walking among the ashes of what had been the steppe ironically, when Hollowheart felt for the first time, a glimmer of hope. The treaty of the clans had been called among huddled bodies, all in fear for their friends, for their family. Looking to her mate's rich brown eyes, in the rubble of what had once been a lush steppe, if a bit dry, that was the first time she knew everything would be fine, because if nothing else, what every cat had in common on every opposing side, was the fear of loosing their home.
Every cat loved the Steppe and called it home,
now that everyone realized just how fragile their pawprint was on the land, just how easily everything could have been taken from them. No one was willing to let that escape their grasp.
This was the first time, in a long time
that she felt this was a home she could bring kits into..
It wasn't long after each clan settled back into their homes that she and Duskgorge were told she was with kits.
At the time they were both ecstatic, her mate cooing and often nuzzling her belly as it slowly grew with the little lives within, others boasted about how well the two would do as parents, the lanky black tom seeming as caring and supporting of his mate as if they were young apprentices again. He was often seen bringing everything to and fro for her, it having become a hassle with her large belly to get around, letting her lean against him and escorting Hollowheart around the camp when her friends weren't with her. Hollow heart would talk to anyone who would sit with her about how she couldn't wait for them to be here, how she couldn't wait to know them, to watch them grow.
The rain softly dribbled down just outside the warmth of the nursery as the labor began, Hollowheart crying out every so often as the pain hit her in waves. At first, she would smile weakly and pant between cries, Duskgorge nuzzling her and whispering soft words of encouragement.
But it began to take too long, and blood began to soak the soft bedding beneath her.
When at last her kits were born, she sat up a bit, licking them to encourage their first breaths, but the bleeding did not stop, nor did she feel their breaths, as her body began to grow too heavy for her to move... she'd sleep.... just for a moment....Her mate was calling her name, she told him not to worry, she was just tired.
Duskgorge wailed as he placed his arms just under her head and tucked his body close to hers, licking over her forhead and face as she passed in his arms.
As Canyonwhisper aids in trying to wake the small bodies, none draw breath, except for a small black kit covered in a fever coat who's mewls fill the nursery among sobs...
Days went by, and a freshly widowed Duskgorge became quiet, often not leaving the warriors den for anything but to go to the dirt place, the small black kit who had survived being passed from queen to queen, not having a stable milk source, she cried out for a mother who was no longer there.
And her wails reminded him of it...
A death knell from all around camp, and all he could help but feel was hatred for the noisy THING.
It was almost a full moon before Canyonwhisper confronted the tom, bringing that whining mewling PARASITE to him in his bed.
A loud argument ensued, near clearing the den as the two screaming felines hissed and spat, but the final words that broke the tension were the cruelest of all..
" YOU WANT ME TO NAME THE THING THAT KILLED MY WIFE, FINE!
I NAME IT BETRAYER,
I NAME PAIN,
I NAME IT DEATH,
I NAME IT WIDOW!"
"Now get it out of my sight, that parasite has done enough damage to those I love."
With hissed and spat words, the confrontation ended..
The young kit was given to a more trusted individual, one of her mothers longest friends, Wildheart, who needed the small life just as much as Widowkit needed her.
First Threads
Taken under Wildheart's care, she was still passed around the nursery when in need of milk but always found the silver belly of her foster mother at the end of the day, that was until a kind mother who had lost her kit much the same as the silver molly who cared for Widowkit, offered what milk she could spare, knowing that she had extra and her own kit could use the company of another.
At first, the small, scrawny black kit was weary of the other, but in time he brought out her more playful side and the two made an inseparable pair! They complemented each other in every way and she quickly took to calling him her brother just as proudly as he called her his sister.
As they grew, Widowkit became acutely aware of another dark figure like herself who wandered the nursery, though no one seemed to mentioned him.
So she took it upon herself to make sure he was mentioned.
She began to talk with and play with the shadow like kit, tossing moss balls past them and trying to get them to toss it back. They were an amazing listener and though they couldn't play just right, it didn't matter to her.
Often, Widowkit and Stagkit would "play" with this new found friend, and though no one would dare mention it to the silver molly who the young kit called mom, concerned and strange glances were thrown on the lanky kit who was always playing with thin air..
Finally, after moons, she was to become an apprentice! She would get the chance to earn her warrior name, though she found it a bit sad as she left the nursery, watching Stagkit and Shadowkit (or that's what she called them, she never got their name) look out from the den, but Wildheart and Canopytrot would reassure the young apprentice and cover her in praise, and well wishes.
Her new mentor, a lanky, fox faced, pale tan tom with a black mask and tinged limbs by the name of Sootslink was a kind enough tom, but she still found herself nervous to start it all.
little did she know what she was getting into, or what was truly coming for her.
Sometimes she would find herself speaking to thin air, swearing she heard one of her clanmates talking to her but then turning to find no one. She would find herself watching who she thought was her clanmates wandering about camp in the middle of the night but there was no sound of pawsteps, and when she would tell the other apprentices they ,at first, thought that maybe she was telling the truth and would investigate it only to find dead ends.
After a moon, they began to grow frustrated with her "lies" and "kittales", the best of her peers would tell her they didn't want to talk with her, the worst began to make fun of her, playing along like they saw them too, only to humiliate and physically bully her by the end. She often returned to her nest, bruised and tearful, taking to moving her nest farther from the other apprentices and closer to her mother, in need of the comfort and reassurance Wildheart always brought.
She tried to hide it at first, the sore muscles and tender spots where she had been pushed around, especially when her brother would visit with her, it was always the highlight of her day, and she only wanted to focus on how it would be once he joined her.
However, that wouldn't, couldn't, last forever, as the figures and noises grew more frequent and crept slowly into her training. The sounds grew from just whispers and voices, into loud snaps of trees falling, the scream of a mountain lion, the bugle of an elk. The visions became creeping foxes and silhouettes of bears or unknown warriors.
Sootslink watched as his apprentice began to startle easily and freeze in place, sometimes out of nowhere running off to find a burrow or hollow to hide in. It became worse when on a patrol with other apprentices, who would scare her themselves, and trip or chase her when she began to bolt, passing it off as an accident or that they were going to follow her to make sure she wouldn't be lost on her own. Other times she would scare the other apprentices, not knowing if there truly was danger and they would scatter as well.
She began to grow quiet, knowing that speaking about these things in front of others would either terrify them or give them more fuel to bully her. No one believed her aside from her mothers and brother anyway..
It was only after another moon, when Stagpaw became an apprentice that she worriedly asked about the black, shadow kit, worried that he would never become an apprentice..
However this notion sparked worry and curiosity in her mother and mentor. Wildheart, wondering if Widowpaw truly was seeing figures, and if she was, were they visions of Starclan? Sootslink wondering the same, and at a loss for how to, if he should be at all, train her, because he was a medicine cat by no means.
She was brought to the healers of the clan at the time, but Pepsnap seemed to have no patience for a young apprentice who he thought simply had a wild imagination.
Brushed off as she had been so many times before, she was at a loss for words, defeated, she did the only thing she knew to do.
Pray.
Support Threads
Days became weeks, and she grew no closer to finding answers.
However she no longer had to go through it alone.
Having Stagpaw by her side was an immense comfort, the two of them together, she could feel the weight lift from her shoulders, even if nothing in particular was happening, just having him there was enough to calm her thoughts and make her feel as if all the bullying was a far away dream.
Sootslink took note of this and began taking both apprentices when Stagpaws mentor would allow it. It seemed to keep her calmer and more focused on the task at hand, though It didn't stop it completely, there were still times where mid-hunt she would jolt and accidentally trip down the hill or find a place to hide.
But now he could tell,
just before she would bolt she would freeze.
Sootslink's patience had always been thin, he was seen as a bit rude, but he was never harsh, instead taking it as a challenge to get his apprentice to (if not feel) act like she was as nonchalant as him or her brother.
So he took to catching her just before she could run, in those few moments she would stand stock still before putting himself in front of the direction she would try to run, causing her to fall over as he bumped her with his flank.
Holding her there, he would get her to wait and listen, and smell.
Showing her that there was no unfamiliar scent, that whatever she saw or heard was not there and realizing that he was right, she would begin to calm, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths.
After a moon or so, Sootslink took pride in watching Widowpaw pause, scenting the air before hesitantly continuing.
He showed her different scents to watch for, a scrap of bear fur, the scent of a mountain lions territory, the abandoned burrow of a fox. In time she began to excel at scenting, being able to differentiate the scents of different plants or birds, picking up prey scents after rainfall, and above all else, she was able to tell if what she was seeing or hearing was real or not, though that one she always found a bit trickier somehow..
For the first time, after four long moons, she was picking up in training.
That wasn't to say that while in camp or on a patrol the bullying lessened, nor in her everyday life that the figures or noises ceased, in truth it got worse..
She would come back covered in mud, with sticks and thorns in her fur, or having been pushed into fox dung from the aggression of her peers.
However Wildheart and her brother were always there to clean her up, or tell the other apprentices off before they could get too far.
It was around this time when Wildheart began taking her out between training, showing her how to use her agility to avoid blows, how to properly run along the mountain terrain, how to not slip and how to hold her ground.
Between Wildheart and Sootslink, she learned how to track better than most others, how to run with the mountain winds, and how to avoid and redirect the attacks the other apprentices threw at her if not fight back.
Within the next two moons she found herself growing confidant in her own abilities, and the words of her peers began to not phase her as much as they had. She was put back on patrols with other warriors and apprentices, this time, able to handle what they tried to throw at her.
That was.... Until Duskgorge appeared..
The dark and menacing warrior was put on patrols along side her at times, and each and every time he had hateful, spiteful words for the lanky molly, would shove her out of the way and treat her like she was dirt.
She couldn't understand why, especially after being told he was her true father.
She couldn't understand why he was so angry with her, but she did her best to try to talk to him when they did get put on a patrol together, hoping that maybe whatever he was angry about, they could work through it together.
She had no idea how deep his resentment went..
While she excelled at a handfull of tasks, Widowpaw's training was nowhere near done, and it was time that she started to learn how to actually fight.
Sparring matches between her and other apprentices were held, she would "win" some by tiring the other out, proving too slippery and too agile to really get a hold on and redirecting their attacks so that they went into the ground or past her and that was good enough for Sootslink.
After coming back to the den, tired from the day of training she had, she found a heavy aura of... something different... the other apprentices looked at her differently, instead of annoyance, they held a tint of fear.. It was only when Stagpaw walked in and laid in his nest that they turned away.
Though Widowpaw simply trotted over and curled up next to him, used to the others...odd glances and rude sneers..her tail curling over his back as he told her what happened.
Comforting him, she groomed his fur as he spoke, his words calm and quiet as usual, she could tell he was shaken, the subtle shiver in his skin and paws giving his true emotions away. She laid with him the next few nights, hearing the others talk about him the same way they talked about her, she wanted him to know he wasn't alone, that she'd be right there with him like he had been for her.
That after everything, they would always have each other.
Given this situation, Sootslink took it as a sign to begin training her harder in combat, sparring with her himself, teaching her that the enemy wouldn't always be kind and wouldn't fight fair, teaching her to use her agility to get a leg over on them in a battle, to use her claws and teeth as the weapons they were and when to use them.
It wasn't long before finally she was given a combatant she knew had it out for her.
The same tom who Stagpaw had near beaten to death, the one who sent her tumbling down mountainsides.
A bit of nervousness welled in her throat, knowing the apprentice had always been stronger physically but she was ready to put her skills to the test.
They sparred for a while, a whirl of violence and dancing paws, she had nearly finished the fight, having pinned the other but not completely holding him down as her redish pink eyes looked past the training area, something dangerously familiar bathing her senses.
Her thoughts were in a flurry, she couldn't tell which way it was coming from in all the dust they had kicked up, her heart beat loud in her ears, this was real, it was actually real.
" There's a fox...."
She muttered, her grip faltering on the tom below her, and in the few seconds it took Sootslink to realize she had scented, Widowpaw bolted from the area, heart racing as she ran harder, faster, than she had ever done.
" Where do you think you're going?! You're gonna die for humiliating me infront of my mentor! "
The other apprentice gave chase, when all at once the beast lept from the bushes just behind her, its mouth a whisker away from having snapped her in two when it whipped around and caught the others leg with its teeth.
She came to a skidding hault, digging her claws into the dirt like Wildheart had taught her and panickedly watching as it whipped the other apprentice back and fourth in its jaws.
In moments Sootslink and the other warrior were on it, clawing out its eyes and biting into its flesh, forcing it to drop the tom and flee.
She didn't even have time to register the fox had gone and the words being screamed at her before the other two picked up the bleeding tom and they were already on their way back to camp.
It felt like wandering through a dream, none of it felt real, not the territory beneath her feet, not the warriors coming out of her den to watch the screaming warrior repremand her for "leading his apprentice right infront of the fox", not him demanding something of some other warrior, she couldn't hear what.
None of it felt real, not until Duskgorge stepped forwards, snarling, full of rage, and raised his paw. The stinging of pain snapping her out of it as she realized she had just been clawed across the face by her father...
The next bit happened in a blur...
Figures of her clanmates and shadow like beings all surrounded them Some of them she could swear were doubles of her father the way they acted and held themselves, others just stood and watched.
Needless to say she slept close to Wildheart and her brother that night.
She spent the last moon of her apprenticehood training one on one with Sootslink, or with Stagpaw.
Her father would glare and sneer as she walked through camp, and soon enough so did the shadowy figures.
His odd gate, his kinked tail, they mimicked him.
Viscid Threads
Finally, twelve long moons had passed, and she was given her Warrior name.
Widowweb,
for her quiet, and gentle, misunderstood nature.
She could have cried, Wildheart, Stagpaw, and Canopytrot doted on her for the next moon and each time she couldn't thank them enough for their help, knowing she wouldn't have made it without all their support.
The shadowy figures continued, sometimes mimicking Duskgorge, other times just taking the shape of a normal, shadowy warrior, but each time she saw her father, one of them was right next to his glowering gaze...and each time, her stomach sank..
Something was wrong...
It wasn't until moons later, that as a large party was gathered to aid in investigating spurclan territory that she got a taste of the true terror she had been catching glimpses of.
Just as the party was setting out, she watched as in the blink of an eye, the world contorted and the group of warriors turned into a blackened sea of shadow with her father front and center...
She truly froze, for the first time in a long time, not able to tell what she was looking at, but her heart racing and stomach dropping, she thought she was going to be sick but the bile never rose.
Calming her breathing, she closed her eyes for a while before opening them again, to see the party of her clanmates in its place once more.
Though she couldn't stop the sinking feeling of something doomed from settling in..
Her father felt like one of them now... or the otherway around... in which case...
Was she one of them too?...
It's been moons since then, and though clan life has been strained, especially with Snapstar becoming leader, and Spurclan demanding a healer.. She's found herself doing pretty alright, still a bit...lacking in the friends department, but Stagthistle is always there. However with Minkstars return, she's found a growing fear in her belly like a sickness she can't get rid of, he terrifies her, she knew that patrol was doomed from the start, and if he came back....
It almost felt like he brought the storm back with him....
Oh how she wishes the sun would blacken once more, so that she may feel the ancestors, and walk their paw prints... If there was any time she needed their aid, it would be now..
The Widow
A Widow's Web
The fear of Minkstar's return only lasted a matter of moons however, as nothing could have prepared her for just how much worse it could get..
Sure that Minkstar's return was a bad omen, when a massive windstorm swept the Steppe, she became a bit more standoffish, only really talking to Wildheart and Stagthistle, checking in with them often to make sure they were alright, though she could see it begin to weigh on her brother the more they spoke of things..
Deciding to allow it rest...
She fell out of contact with him for a while, only giving a passing soft smile when catching glances in camp.
She wished she hadn't..
As when she had just begun to settle, to let it finally rest...
Everything was thrown back into that storm.
Minkstar's and Snapstar's lives were ripped from them, and Minkstar was descovered to have killed Adderstar, the long dead tyrant of their clan. Between the screaming and arguing, Lupinestar announced himself as the new proclaimed leader of Giliaclan. Trying to make sense of it all, she didn't miss the accusations of Adderstar having something to do with their new leader... Nor did she miss Lupine's seeming dismissal of the subject.
Trying to make her own voice heard for once among the sea of whispers, the thought of Adderstar's iron claws encaging the camp and closing in made her pelt crawl and struck fear into the lanky molly...
Wildheart....Stagthistle.... were they really safe with the tan coated suspicious figure sitting on the high rock?...
Trying to get the answers the fool above evaded, she grew more frustrated, especially as the "leader" put on a show of good faith instead of easing her mind with answers, Pathetically and idiotically laying a life down just to prove himself chosen by the stars.
What did being chosen by the stars mean when the worst of them could be pulling the strings?..
She felt sick as the idiot lost his life in a needless show boat, and as her fear swallowed her whole, all she could do was knock the cat restraining her brother off of him and escape..
Returning took a while after that...but she couldn't just leave Wildheart..
Tiptoeing around the camp after everything... she couldn't bring herself to set foot in the warriors den, stars she didn't even want to set paw back in the camp..but she did, reminding herself all the while it was for Wildheart and Stagthistle... If she could just-
Make it safe for them.. or take them away... she'd take all the blame, she'd take all the hate and ire of their ancestors, all for them...
After Adderstar's appearance at the gathering... it only cemented her beliefs.. Giliaclan is unsafe...
She has to get to the bottom of it.... for herself.. for them.. she just needs to find the right time..
to slip..
Away.
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