Facade (Open)

Hunting – again. That seemed to make up the bulk of Lightningclaw’s days. There was nothing else for it, really; with all the clans severely weakened, no one was stupid enough to start a fight. It’d be mutual destruction. And, though her mind instinctively flinched away from the thought, there were no leaders to lead them into battle.

In a way, the patrols were a way to keep up a semblance of normalcy, a façade set up to declare, “We are fine, we are recovering. Attack us if you dare.” So, compared to most of her clanmates, she didn’t mind them. Well, she groaned anytime she was tapped for the dusk patrol – but that was an expected response when she was early to rise and early to sleep.

But she could only patrol so often. She could only assist Wrenflame so often. So, that left the bulk of her time to hunting, which she did fervently, as if each piece of fresh-kill translated into a clan that was just a tiny bit stronger. If she’d had an apprentice – but, again, her mind shied away from the thought, unwilling to let itself be caught.

She needed a distraction. A better distraction, better than a normal hunting trip that was bordering monotony.

So, thinking with her heart and not her brain for once, she slowly circled nearer and nearer the ShadowClan border. The roar of the monsters added another layer of noise to her brain, helped her cancel out the darker thoughts even easier. And she was content to stay near, though prey was scarce when the thunderpath was most active, fled both from the noise and the fumes that rolled off the acrid path. Really, it was just an additional challenge, an additional thing to pile atop her thoughts.

So engrossed was she in attempting to pinpoint a suitable target that Lightningclaw could not help but flinch as if struck as suddenly there came the roar of a monster from the thunderpath – followed by the harsh crashing of something through brush. It moved downhill, rapidly, before abruptly quieting as it reached the bottom.

Lightningclaw stared after the noise, eyes wide both in surprise and to peer better through the gloom of the forest. Hesitantly, she drew the nearby scents of the forest to her – only to snort as the sharp scent of a monster’s breath stung her nose. Too close to the thunderpath to be able to tell what it was, unless she followed its path down.

Which – wasn’t smart. Instead, she moved parallel to the path the thing had taken, footsteps feather-soft as she moved through the dense foliage. So near the thunderpath, whatever it was would be just as hampered in scent as she was – and the shadows of the forest provided good camouflage.

It took her a few moments, but eventually she approached the spot where the sounds had last stopped. Peering between a pair of sun-dappled leaves, she stared hard, seeking out whatever it was – and then she saw it, a strange cat huddled at the foot of the incline that led up onto the thunderpath, yellow eyes blown wide in its face.

A warning snarl naturally flowed from her lips as she pushed herself out of her hiding spot, tail lashing behind her. And yet, as she drew closer, she momentarily paused, the catsong fading in her throat as she realized how small he was – not quite small enough to be just out of the nursery, but small enough that she stood over him.

A rogue or—? She drew closer, tasting the air about him. He stank of thunderpath, but underneath she thought she detected the bitter smell of ShadowClan.

Great.

She stopped a few tail-lengths from him, stood in an easy stance. He was in her territory, and it seemed he was half-scared to death besides. There was no reason to be inappropriately aggressive, especially with both of their clans so weakened still. And she doubted his mentor, whoever it was, would be pleased to see him on the wrong side of the border. They’d be even less pleased if he was returned all scratched up.

So, for now, amnesty.

“Well?” she asked him, the word so blunt it wobbled between sarcasm and sincerity. She owed him nothing, after all.

Yep, he was an apprentice. And completely out of his element. Lightningclaw’s whiskers twitched, the smallest show of amusement, at the cat’s overblown reaction to her appearance. She’d seen mice with better sense.

Still, he seemed to regain some semblance of courage as he briefly looked away from her, back up toward the thunderpath. A monster thundered by, spewing more of its noxious breath; Lightningclaw ignored it. A warrior was meant to stay focused, especially when an intruder had trespassed on clan ground.

She didn’t think he was a hunter – or, if he was, he had yet to catch any prey. And, he obviously wasn’t the forward scout for an invading force. Unless, of course, ShadowClan had become so weak that they now relied on half-trained apprentices barely out of the nursery for their reconnaissance.

Her whiskers twitched again at the thought, the tension slowly draining free of her body. That was good, she’d needed to lighten her mood; keep muscles wound too tight and they were likely to cramp. Keeping herself lax and limber would help her react faster if an invading party did appear. Though she had her doubts about that happening.

At some point the little tom remembered how to speak, though it took a concentrated effort. She kept her gaze pinned squarely on him, face impassive, as he began, failed, cleared his throat, and spoke again. What he managed was pitifully short – just his name, which she failed to place against any of the past Gatherings she’d attended.

Definitely young, she thought.

Thank StarClan it had been Lightningclaw he had stumbled upon and not one of the more claw-happy warriors. He’d likely leave their encounter with his ears intact.

And then he asked her name, and she knew he must be young. Only a youngster could so easily blurt out such an honest question, facing down an enemy warrior on their own territory. StarClan’s sake, the little tom certainly wasn’t fearful for his life, was he?

Her whiskers twitched again as she answered in a level voice, “I’m Lightningclaw, a warrior of ThunderClan.” A hint, in case his little pea-brain had forgotten on which side of the border he stood.

“Would you like to explain why you’re here?” She was purposely polite – she had learned there was a sort of power that came from confidence. And she adopted her best mentor look, the same serious face that had caused her apprentice to gulp audibly when he’d first come under her care.

The thought of him was enough to pierce her heart, a sudden slip-up that caused her paws to grip the ground more firmly, claws threatening to dig into the topsoil. It was a small throb, as fair as pain went, but it was also a reminder of what she had lost, of the thorn still plunged deep into her chest.

When the young cat snapped out of the stupor he’d drifted into, Lightningclaw almost regretted speaking to him. He’d been calmer, for the scant few moments he’d had wrapped up in his thoughts. Still, she recognized it as a dangerous action, something she hoped he didn’t make a habit of.

Otherwise one day he’d snap out of a daydream to a pawful of claws sunk into his throat. But surely young cats were allowed their fancies? She’d had her own, though her apprenticehood was a faraway shadow, so segregated it was hard for Lightningclaw to view her former self as ever being her.

And her apprentice – again, a throb. Yes, he’d also been filled with dandelion fluff. How often had she scolded him in their earliest days together, only for her to in turn be counseled by one of her senior warriors. In the end, she thought, they’d begun to understand each other – and she had come to realize his occasional lollygagging was only because he felt so safe at her side.

Her eyes blinked slowly as she momentarily focused on her breathing. She counted each breath she took, each exhale that flared her nostrils. The apprentice’s voice was still recognized, his words spinning a tale that spoke of youthful stupidity. But she was divided in her attentions, her outer countenance utterly focused on him even as her inner self wavered between the desire to nurse old wounds and to confront the present problem.

It was the purring that brought her back into herself, a fine wrinkle appearing in the soft skin of her muzzle.

Here was a second cat in distress, following Wrenflame’s outburst a few days past – and this time she was unraveling herself; it was too easy to replace this apprentice with her own. Not that they looked alike – and they certainly didn’t smell alike, but it was the very concept of him. Her own stress and Wrenflame’s and the clan’s – and the apprentice she’d been able to mourn oh-so-very briefly before she shoved his memory deep into the recesses of her heart.

Ah, that was it. She’d yet had a chance to grieve. The knowledge gave her no comfort.

“It’s—alright,” she said, after a prolonged silence. She didn’t know if she was speaking to herself or him, but the words were hollow, and she bit at the tip of her tongue, desperate for the pain to ice over her veins.

She heaved a sigh, suddenly weary. The severity of her expression bled away, leaving behind only a tired, unaggressive cat. Not that she couldn’t still smack him if his distress turned out to be a ploy. But she was done playing the aggressor.

She really just wanted to be alone.

But what to say? How best to slip away and ensure her duty to the clan was done? “I’m not going to hurt you; I just want to know why you’re here.”

She prompted, “Your denmates…?”

StarClan above, grant the ShadowClan cat some courage, so that they might both leave this tiring stalemate all the quicker.

What she’d hoped would be a simple explanation proved itself true.

Apprentices, she thought. She’d been a mouthy little thing in her youth, but she’d never been mouse-brained enough to listen to the other apprentices. If you believed everything your denmates told you, you’d wind up in Snakerocks with the ThunderClan leader and deputy breathing down your neck and mouse-bile duty until the next moon. Not that it had happened to Lightningclaw – but she might have been the cause of one such misadventure.

Then again, she had thought as an apprentice, if they were really that stupid then surely it was her duty to help them shape up and not be so gullible.

It was hard to sympathize with him, because by all accounts she had likely been the bully of her former denmates. Of course, memories of the past were not something she really examined, especially when half of those involved were buried in the ground, being eaten by worms.

And, unlike him, she wasn’t much concerned with her loneliness beyond the loss of her apprentice. Her clanmates had never interested her; in fact, more often than not they proved an annoyance. But, because he was young, she allowed an expression of sympathy to slide across her face. The feeling of it was strange, a mask she was unused to wearing – but she’d put up with it, especially if it kept him from his stumbling, tripping words.

And then the damned apprentice was talking about leaving ShadowClan and Lightningclaw could not stop the question that slipped from her mouth, threatening to run over his other words: “Why would you leave?”

Of course, as she asked, she also registered the last bit of what he had said – old enough to receive his warrior name!? She could not keep away the dubious look that came over her face as she looked him up and down. He was so scrawny, and it wasn’t as if she was some big, bulky cat herself.

She was used to undersized apprentices and warriors from the WindClan cats – they were always small, had to be, really. But ShadowClan and ThunderClan had a reputation for larger warriors – and ShadowClan was always the strongest.

Of course, unlike her apprentice… “At least you’re alive,” she told him. There was a bit of bite to her voice, her whiskers momentarily flattening against her face before she abruptly forced herself to relax. “That you survived means you’ll become a warrior.”

And, she realized after a half-second’s delay, he was spilling vital clan information. Then again, if he’d truly had no one to train him, he was likely unaware of how to properly conduct himself around a cat of another clan. She made an effort to drain the edge from her voice before adding more softly, “And you shouldn’t tell me about the state of your clan. I could use it against you.”

Not that she would; her speech told him as much. But she knew other warriors of her clan might not be so kind. And StarClan help the little tom if he blurted that out to another clan. Especially in hearing distance of his elders.

When the little tom finally showed some fight, it was over something Lightningclaw hadn’t expected. He’d mentioned how he couldn’t leave, how his mother was holding him back – whether she was a memory or still alive hadn’t been expanded upon, but a memory typically held more potency. You wanted to do things for those that had died. Still, he lashed out at her as if her question had awoken the pride he held. It was good to see him so fired up – and something like embarrassment made her duck her head briefly as he furthered informed her of his age.

Twelve moons? And here she’d been speaking to him as if he were a kit just tumbled from the nursery. She was amazed he hadn’t bitten her head off earlier in the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” she said truthfully. “Even if you stay this size, you’ll find it has its advantages.” She could already imagine it. Ignorant enemies would see him as a weak target, an apprentice newly-made. They’d target him as an easy victory and discover the ferocity of a ShadowClan warrior. Her tail flicked in satisfaction of the idea, and she added, “If your clanmates were smarter, they’d realize just how helpful you could be.”

He’d be perfect for the leap-and-hold, she thought. And the belly-rake, if he was willing to learn how to dive straight into a larger warrior. Yes, he was small, but any flaw could become a strength with proper planning. If she’d been him, she might have cuffed his denmates ears for being so foolish.

“You should show them,” she told him. She couldn’t personally empathize with him – the desire for approval had never hampered her. It was a burden she was entirely unfamiliar with. But she knew the desire to prove things to herself. And it sounded as if he needed as much convincing as his clanmates.

The rush of a massive monster across the thunderpath drew both their eyes, though Lightningclaw was considerably less startled by it, only the widening of her pupils betraying her shock. Above, the sun was beginning to sink, the sky slowly warming. The ShadowClan border patrol would not be for some time still, but if the apprentice continued to dally they would undoubtedly catch him.

But – her eyes shifted back to Crowpaw. Did he even want to go back? For all that he had angered at her sheer audacity of implying he might leave, he certainly didn’t seem in a hurry to recross the border. Of course, given the size of the monster that had just rushed past, she didn’t exactly blame him.

But the Warrior Code…

Every single rational part of her was screaming at her to hurry up and chase him back over the border. He wasn’t meant to be here, and his sob story wasn’t anything new amongst clans.

Mouse-dung.

A soft hiss pressed between her teeth, her eyes closing in brief concentration as two factions warred within her.

Her eyes snapped open and she moved suddenly, padding toward him in a few quick strides and snapping, “Come with me.” With some effort, she added tightly, “I’ll find you a place to stay for the night.” Then she was turning away, expectant that he would follow.

Stubbornly, she pushed away the logical side of her brain that was screaming in protest. Each pawstep she took as she led him away from the bottom of the hill, deeper into ThunderClan territory, was echoed by the continued rant that went on inside her head.

She’d have to explain the scent, but she would do that once she returned to the camp. For now she had to find a place where he would be sheltered, both from the forest and from her clanmates.

She led him toward the Owl Tree, reasoning that her clanmates rarely strayed near it. Owl droppings kept smaller prey away, making it a poor hunting ground. And it was so far from camp, almost all the way to Fourtrees. While she knew the border patrol skirted it, the scent of owl would overlay his ShadowClan scent, and any cat that did think they’d smelled ShadowClan would think it was only a trick of the wind.

It was a good plan, but she made it further foolproof by first leading him toward a garlic patch that grew nearby. Wild garlic was potent and powerful, and the closer they drew, the more her lips drew back in a grimace. He’d stink so badly they’d smell him in StarClan, but it would further divert attention – no cat liked the smell enough to willingly go near wild garlic.

Of course, he chose that moment to speak – and her head was turning, her steps pausing, before she’d even fully registered what he’d said, eyes opening wide as “Mom” finally registered. She halted completely, dumbfounded.

Something like heat exploded beneath her coat, and she quickly snapped her head away from him to search the nearby undergrowth suspiciously. It wasn’t another predator, wasn’t a clan cat, was probably a little mouse scampering down its hole – but studiously judging their surroundings was so much better than looking at him.

Especially since her brain seemed to have short-circuited with the word.

“I don’t think I’m that old,” she said.

She settled back on her haunches, raising one forepaw to carefully comb over one ear and then another, using the movement to try and set her thoughts in order.

“Go roll in the garlic,” she said, still refusing to look at him. Were her commands backfiring on her? He’d said—said he didn’t have a mentor assigned to him; did that mean the only adult cat he’d grown close to was his mother? She wasn’t that old. And the idea of kits—she would have shuddered, had she not been so focused on appearing as normal as possible.

His words of appreciation only further harassed her, the flames that crackled up and down her spine threatening to rise still higher. She understood why RiverClan cats were so enthusiastic about water – not that she would jump in, even if she was on literal fire and not figurative, but she could definitely see why partial submergence in a stream was sometimes preferable to burning up.

“It’s fine,” she snapped. But whereas before her words had always carried a cold edge, these sliced hot. “There’s an oak a little bit further on. I’ll stash you there. It stinks of owl but you’re a bit too large for one to eat.”

She finally looked at him, trying to impress upon the idiotic apprentice that she was not his mother through the sheer force of her gaze.

Perhaps he had meant she comforted her. That tickled her pelt in a whole other way, but Lightningclaw was quick to shove it away. She’d scolded Wrenflame only a few days before for acting like a kit, but certainly she was no better – he was a ShadowClan cat, after all. All he knew was her name and her size, and she was certainly acting maternal— no, kind —taking care of him like this.

Of course, her clan had a reputation for being soft-touches. Fierce in battle, barely a whisper in the forest, but always a clan that protected others. With a sigh, some of the heat bleeding free of her at last, she ducked her head to smooth down the fur that had risen with her earlier agitation. She was logical compared to her clanmates, but that didn’t mean she had escaped their foolish goodheartedness.

Still focused on washing herself, even as the apprentice wiggled pathetically in the garlic, she cast her gaze toward him once more. He was so eager not to leave his clan, but he had shown no hesitation in following her – had even thanked her for the opportunity.

Though, considering the stench that rolled over him now, she doubted he was still thinking kindly of her. Something like a smirk tugged up one corner of her mouth, revealing a single canine, before she smoothed her expression once more.

Did he want another clan, she wondered. He was small and young – and the clans were all weakened after the sickness. More bodies would provide an edge. But just as quickly as the thought arose she banished it with a backward flick of her ears, amber eyes cutting across their surroundings as if she’d suddenly heard something.

When he dragged himself back to her side, she offered him a small smile, though the overpowering scent of garlic hit her a second later and she sneezed, ears flattening against her skull. Truly, the stuff was horrid. She’d bring him some mint tomorrow, so he wouldn’t have to return to his clan reeking – she doubted they’d appreciate that.

“This way,” she said, gesturing with her tail as she pushed forward once more. The Owl Tree was found swiftly enough, if only because the forest quieted significantly as they drew near; it was near moonrise, and the smarter animals knew to go underground when the owl was ready to hunt. Lightningclaw padded forward unconcerned, climbing over the oak’s gnarled roots as she sought a little hollow she could stash him in.

“Here we are,” she said at last, turning back toward him and waving her tail. “No one will find you here.”

The hole she indicated was a shallow indent in the earth, a gnarled root forming the majority of its ceiling. The scent inside was musty and stale, and she didn’t smell the pungency that followed a fox. It was certainly too small for a badger. Safe, then.

She backed away from it, glancing toward the sky – the patrol was due soon, was probably already gathering at the camp’s entrance, impatient to head out.

“Do you want me to stay?” The question was a surprise, but she was curious as to his answer. Maybe it was something of an apology, for how badly she had treated him over what was mostly likely a harmless, easily-forgotten comment. She didn’t allow her think about it too much; she’d already done so much that to listen to her sense now was hypocritical at best.