Ginger Kollie — Roleplayer Guild

Hawkstar

Hawkstar returned Duskclaw’s nod as he watched the two cats make their way towards the entrance of the camp. He knew full-well that collecting moss was primarily an Apprentice’s job, but since most of the Apprentices were already out of camp, and with Mallownose gone, he wanted to make sure they were ready for any early kitting. Gingerflame could, really, start kitting at any moment now and thus they needed to be ready for when that moment comes. And plus... it was quite nice to get different cats socialising together, building upon the relationships of each cat strengthens the bond and vigour of the clan. This was especially important after coming out of the hard-ships of leaf-bare, when morales tended to plummet.  

Hawkstar was soon pulled out of his thoughts when the scent of blood drifted towards him, hitting his nose. He scanned his surroundings, noting every cat he saw, trying to figure out where the scent had come from. If a cat from his clan had been injured or hurt, he wanted to know about it. As he searched, he spotted Timberpaw, an Apprentice, heading towards the Medicine Den. Following him, though, was a small silverish she-cat. Hawkstar knew every single member of his clan well, something he was taught to do by his father at a young age, and this she-cat was not familiar to him. She was not a ThunderClan cat. Had the Apprentice brought a random loner back to camp? And if he had, where was he taking her? Surely, he knew the dangers of bringing outside cats into camp and the importance of reporting it directly to the clan Leader. Him. Yet, he hadn’t been informed.

Getting up, Hawkstar swiftly, but not so graciously, moved across the camp and towards the Apprentice. “Timberpaw!” He meowed firmly, slowing down as he neared. He peered at the small she-cat, his large frame towering over hers. “Who is this?” Calmly, but bluntly, he asked, switching his stare from the she-cat over to the Apprentice. He wouldn’t tolerant an Apprentice ignoring the warrior’s code and endangering the clan so carelessly like this. The cat seemed small, if he had to guess, she probably wasn’t any older then Timberpaw himself. But it was his duty to ensure the clan’s safety and opening the clan to any random outsider was reckless. 

“Hawkstar! Hawkstar!”

The large tom jerked his head towards the voice as a bundle of brown fur darted across to him. Berrypaw. He could hear the ugency in her voice and instantly stood at the ready. The she-cat was panting, it was obvious that she had been running for some time. He was about to open his mouth to ask what had happened when she finally spoke.

There... There’s... ShadowClan... Border...” The Apprentice paused, trying to regain her breath. Immediately, his initial thoughts riled with ideas of some kind of trouble at the borders. He recalled Silverstorm saying that she was going to take a group to patrol ShadowClan and WindClan’s earlier. Were they in trouble? Had they been attacked? Hawkstar nudged his head towards the Apprentice, urging her to continue. “They, they... Want to, speak, with, you.” She finally confirmed as she caught back her breath. 

Hawkstar deliberated, taking in all the information the young cat had delivered him. It wasn't much, but he needed to make a decision with what little information he had. And fast. Did he take as many warriors with him as he could to help fend off an attack that may be happening at the borders? But then doing so would leave the camp defenceless, in case it was a trap... No... He couldn’t do that. The camp needed protecting, there was too many Queens and Elders at risk. He would have to go alone.

He looked across at the new she-cat, he’d have to deal with her later.  “Angelfeather, Brokenbranch, guard this one. We have trouble with ShadowClan at the border, let everyone know. Protect the camp.” With that, he turned towards Berrypaw who seemed to have recovered completely. “Are you alright to show me the way?”

“Yes, Hawkstar.” The young cat answered confidently, turning tail and running as fast as her little legs come go with the tom following behind. Only three of his legs really worked properly, with his forth dragging behind. It slowed him down, but he could still run at a moderate pace, even with his wonky gait. 

As they moved closer to the border, the two cats slowed down, coming to a walk once they reached the clearing. The scent of ShadowClan reached his nostrils, a scent which he’d come to, admittedly, dislike greatly. Thankfully, he knew Redstar well, and was a lot keener on the tom’s more... diplomatic approach then the late ShadowClan Leader, Archstar. Redstar’s father, Archstar was a large, and fearless brute who was always challenging the other clans. It was Archstar who had crippled him when he was a Deputy during a fight, a day which he’ll never forget.

As he approached, he could see Silverstorm speaking to Redstar with a group of ShadowClan warriors sitting behind. It didn’t seem like an attack, which he was thankful for, but it lead him to wonder why exactly they were there and what they needed to speak to him about.

“Hawkstar.” Redstar called, nodding his respects to the ThunderClan Leader. Hawkstar did the same, shifting his gaze from Redstar to Silverstorm and then back again. As soon as he did so, a fit of coughing erupted from Redstar, his weak body shaking as he continued to lean on Crookedowl. The Leader didn’t look well, at all. But without hesitation, the ShadowClan Leader got straight to the point. “I’ve come to warn you, Hawkstar... A disease.” He paused, gulping slightly to clear his throat. “Many members of my clan have caught it. We have never come across anything like this before.” He paused once more before continuing. "It started a week ago, after a patrol came across a body floating in a stream by our borders. The first one's to become ill were on that patrol."

Hawkstar listened carefully, every word sinking deep into his mind. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded his thanks to the Leader, bowing also to the Medicine Cat.  “Thank you for warning me, Redstar. Crookedowl, you know you can use any herbs found in ThunderClan territory freely.”

“I know, thank you.” Meowed Crookedowl, the old cat peering at his Leader with worry. “I must speak with Mallownose soon, is he available?”.

 “Unfortunately not. Mallownose has gone to collect some herbs and won’t be back till later today. I’ll have him speak with you when he returns.” The Medicine Cat looked down towards the ground, nodding slowly. The tom looked tired, exhausted even. He would have to rely on Mallownose to find out the details of this disease when he came back to help him better safe-guard his own clan. It wasn't abnormal for new illness to pop up, especially after leaf-bare, but the full extent of this new disease, he wasn't aware of. 

Redstar stepped forward slightly, wobbling on his own legs as he moved closer to Hawkstar. He hushed his voice, wishing for only Hawkstar to hear him. “There’s something else.” The large tom raised his head, acknowledging the change in the Leader’s tone. He didn’t say a word, letting Redstar continue. “The disease has taken the life of one of our Queens, Willowfire. She had two kits... Whom none of the Queens will take...” Redstar trailed off slightly, coughing violently. Raising his head, he put it bluntly. “I want you to take them.”

Hawkstar shook his head, staring at the tom firm in the eyes.  “You know I can’t do that, Redstar. The danger to my clan would be too great.” Redstar raised his paw as if to stop him, his eyes darting from one cat to another, and then finally back at Hawkstar. 

“The kits... they’re half ThunderClan.” Hawkstar stared at him, obviously shocked by what he had been told.

 “What do you mean, Redstar?” The dark brown cat asked, something in him mind was telling him that he had miss-heard. But he hadn’t. He knew that he hadn’t.

Redstar blinked slowly, gritting his teeth as if he was disgusted at the thought himself. “Before Willowfire died, she told Crookedowl who the father was, how the kits were... half-clan...” He paused, his shame and disgust evident. “The clan won’t have them, so they must go.”

It was hard to imagine, but at this moment, Hawkstar didn’t know what to do. It was dangerous bringing in cats who were likely to be infected into the clan, but yet, if he did not, then he would be condemning them to die. If Redstar’s claims were true, then how could he let kits with ThunderClan blood suffer without even a chance at life? His mind was split, knowing that either way he went, it was a bad decision. 

Hawkstar stared long and hard at Redstar, thinking deeply about what he had just said. A question was playing on his mind, yet he didn’t want to ask it, ignorance seeming like a less painful option. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer to what he was about to ask, but it was clear that he needed to regardless. 

Pausing for a moment, he cleared his throat, breathing deeply.  “Who is the father?”

Another long break came as they both stared at each other with the same serious and heart-wrenching look. Redstar opened his mouth, his next words almost echoing through Hawkstar’s ears.

“Ravencoat.”

Gingerflame

Gingerflame stopped struggling, knowing her attempts to untangle her legs were useless. She couldn’t get out and thus was trapped once more. It was unfair, to say the least and all it did was frustrate the she-cat further. She hated depending on others, she hated needing their help. It made her feel weak, and still, after two litters, she couldn’t get used to the feeling. 

Raising her head, she stared at the tom in thought. She’d never really spoken to Frostbite before, never really... interacted with him. They were both ThunderClan members but judging on how much she knew about him, he may as well have been from ShadowClan. Which was concerning, yes, but Gingerflame didn’t put much thought into it. Obviously he kept to himself, and so did she. She wasn’t one to socialise with random cats too much, preferring to sit and observe. Unless someone challenged her, of course. Then she definitely wasn’t a ‘side lines’ sort of cat.

She felt a strange sense of protectiveness and anxiety when he approached her, and was close to out-right clubbing him with her paw. But she didn’t. She knew he was a loyal ThunderClan cat and since there was no way she was getting out of those brambles alone, she remained silent as the tom started to paw at the thorns. A cold trickle of blood trailed down her leg, making her yelp ever so slightly. It took a while, but the tom was slow and steady with his efforts, trying not to let the thorns snag at her too much.

Once she was freed, she stepped forwards and moved away from the bramble bush. A sharp pain was still digging into her side, and she knew that there must have been a thorn embedded into her skin somewhere. Without a word, she started searching for it. She nipped and pulled at her skin to try and pull the bugger out, but it remained, stubbornly. 

She could barely see Frostbite sitting in front of her as she continued to dig out the last thorns. He was strangely quiet, watching her from a far. She’d half expected him to scold her like a disobedient apprentice, repeating the camp rules as if she didn’t know them already. To tell her how ‘Queens shouldn’t be away from camp’, ‘it was dangerous’, and dub her in to Hawkstar as soon as they got back. But no. What the tom did instead surprised her, no, it shocked her. And for the love of StarClan, it was not the right thing to say to this pregnant she-cat. 

"Typical..."

She heard it. It was faint, quiet, but she definitely heard it. Her head jolted up, her eyes narrowing into tight slits as she glared at the tom. What did he say? Suddenly, a blast of rage filled her once more, her muscles tensing furiously. How dare he? With her teeth gritted firmly, she stormed after him, pushing past and standing in his way. She crouched, her shoulder bones sticking out from under her fur as she flared her nostrils. That tom had some nerve. Some nerve! Her claws were extended, hell, she was ready to fight him right then and there. A growl escaped her mouth, a sound that was akin to a hostile dog.

“Say that again and I’ll make mousemeat out of you!” She hissed, daring him to challenge her.

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