So Wrong, It's Right [Storm/Blizz]

[Mama Oak]

littlepaw, the haunted
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this place is a hole, but i don't want to go
i wish we could stay here forever alone

Littlepaw knew she should be scared. But for once... she wasn’t. Her heart soared, her stomach fluttered, and in her small, dainty paws was a delightful tingling; a certain jittery-ness that was contributed more to anticipation toward seeing Stormpaw than fear of being on BloodClan territory. If in the same spot a moon earlier, the ShadowClan medicine cat would have been shivering with blind terror and panic, her insides roiling with terror and mind racing with all the things that could go wrong. Now the tremor that went down her pelt was one of excitement. There was still fear, of course, but it was only a dim cautiousness next to her bubbling eagerness. Occasionally there would be a moment of doubt and hesitance, where she reminded herself just how many codes she was breaking by being here and by allowing herself to embrace her feelings for the BloodClan apprentice. But Littlepaw knew all of that uncertainty would melt away as soon as she felt the small tom beside her. The entirety of her reservation would be momentarily forgotten at the feel of his pelt and the sound of his words. Pushed away and dismissed as she pressed her face into the fur of his shoulder and breathed in his comforting presence.

She had never had a friend before. Why did it have to be a crime?

The thought sent a jolt through Littlepaw; her anticipation and nervous merriment suddenly cut short as the question echoed in her mind. Why did it have to be wrong? Other than Leopardcloud, Stormpaw was the only feline whom had ever shown her kindness. And Leopardcloud had died very early and let himself be replaced by that... that monster of a cat, Honeyleaf. But Stormpaw was still alive and he was here. And just his simple thereness made her feel safe and warm; a sense of security and worth that she had been lacking for the entirety of her nineteen moons.

She was happy. And not just the general cheerfulness that she wore on the surface to please her clanmates... but a deep, widespread contentedness. It touched her bones and made her stronger. It was a lingering in her sinews and muscles that made her every step quicker and more buoyant. Since she had sheltered with Stormpaw during that storm and they had shared with each other pieces of their lives, Littlepaw’s burden seemed lighter. Every fiber of her entire being seemed to hurt just a little less and the shadow that haunted her just a little lighter.

How could that be forbidden? Who had decided that being happy was something denied to her?

Before Littlepaw could think on it any more, her large ears perked up at the smallest of sounds and characteristic fear seared through her like a set of sharp, familiar claws. She was trembling, out of terror now, and pressed herself between the "office building" rubble on either side of her, hopefully shielding her from view. She wanted to call out Stormpaw’s name, but was suddenly terrified that it wouldn’t be him that answered. The air in the building was so stagnant that she was unable to pinpoint the feline’s identity, especially over the overwhelming stench of her own fear.... which undoubtedly the other cat could detect.

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Words: 550
Tagged: Stormpaw/Stormpaw (and open, if you want?)
Post Scriptum: Let me know if this is okay. I'm up way too late, past comprehension and brain-dead-ness... so this is probably completely non-nonsensical, but I just had to. I missed roleplaying with yeeeew. And totally imagined them exploring two-leg stuff together, not knowing what anything is or used for. xD

[Petrichor]

Apprentice Stormpaw of BloodClan

Stormpaw twisted around, his ears constantly perked and tasting for another cat's scent as he walked out of BloodClan territory. Even though he couldn't scent any cat, he took a winding path to the old office building, making absolutely sure that no cat would follow him.

There wasn't really anything to worry about; no cat really cared where and when Stormpaw came and went as long as he brought food back, which he was planning to... it just wasn't the main point of his trip this time.

Ever since Stonepaw's death, he had felt estranged from the rest of the Clan, and though he was slowly repairing the bridge that his brother's death had burned, cats were still avoiding him like the plague, that maybe his brother's electricity-induced death was contagious or something.

Hmph. Sometimes Stormpaw couldn't believe that BloodClan was as feared as it was; while the adaptations were certainly fuel for nightmares, the cats themselves could be kind of dumb. 

No, he would stop thinking about the Clan. He had left camp this morning with something very specific in mind. Littlepaw, the ShadowClan medicine cat apprentice. 

A moon ago, a severe rainstorm had driven them both into an abandoned office building in the city limits, and while the relations were tense at first, Stormpaw trying to maintain his reputation and Littlepaw being a quivering mass of fear, the two came to realize that they were more alike than either would have believed just the day before. 

Littlepaw. So innocent, so kind. The blind medicine cat apprentice was the only cat Stormpaw could express any emotion in front of, and he had been looking forward to this night every night until the day had finally arrived that he could speak with her... bathe in her presence. 

A voice occasionally nagged at him that what he was doing was wrong, that even purposefully meeting cats from other Clans was forbidden, much less befriending their only medicine cat. He always felt a pang of guilt thinking this, but then shook the thought off, reminding himself that neither he nor Littlepaw had anyone to really speak to in their respective Clans, and that they wouldn't really be missed for a few hours. 

Why was friendship such a crime among the Clans? It truly baffled Stormpaw. Why were potential soulmates separated by Clan borders? Why would StarClan bring potential friends together if it was supposed to be expressly forbidden?

Screw StarClan. He was going to see Littlepaw if he had to claw through each and every one of them.

Finally, Stormpaw entered the office building, his claws (did he unsheathe them while thinking about the rules?) clacking on the floor. He was about to speak out for Littlepaw when he felt the penetrating stench of ShadowClan and fear. 

Instinctively, Stormpaw's pelt prickled and he looked around the area, scenting for a threat. He found none, and realized that Littlepaw might not realize that it was him. It was Littlepaw, after all.

The black BloodClan apprentice sheathed his claws, smoothed his pelt, and walked forward, altering his voice to be calming and kind. He usually manipulated cats with this voice, but this was an exception. 

"Littlepaw, it's Stormpaw. I made sure I wasn't followed. Are you okay?" he asked, genuine concern tinting his voice. He sat a tail-length away from his friend, making sure not to get too close so she could absorb his words and not lash out in fear.

((I have been waiting for this thread a long time, but I have a great idea. I'll share it with you and the other member I have in mind through PM -- I don't want to spoil the thread for anyone reading))

[Mama Oak]

littlepaw, the haunted
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this place is a hole, but i don't want to go
i wish we could stay here forever alone

”Stormpaw!” His name was only a choked breath as she threw herself into him, not caring if she knocked him from his paws or not. Upright or tumbling through foreign, unfamiliar rubble, it didn’t matter — all that did matter was to be close to the black tom. Having him near was like hearing a familiar song; his presence was reminiscent of the gentle, comforting tune that Speckledbird would hum when her adopted kitten was feeling frightened or ill... which had been... well, quite often.

Speckledbird had died long ago though, and over the many moons since her passing, Littlepaw had forgotten the sound of her voice and the simple melody of that sweet lullaby. The medicine cat’s life had been an interminable cycle of terror and illness, gone too long without comfort or care. But now, as she nuzzled into his neck and filled her nose with the scent of BloodClan and Stormpaw, Littlepaw could almost hear the vague rise and fall of a soft, soothing tune. It was only the tom’s breath, and perhaps the beating of his heart, but Littlepaw felt unafraid all the same. She didn’t pull away, but opened her eyes; abruptly realizing that her cheeks were damp.

Why did she always have to cry? A purr was strong and hearty in her throat, a smile drawn across her tortie muzzle, and an unquenchable happiness radiating from her very being (which only moments ago had been roiling with waves of fear). And yet, beneath it all, there was the understanding that their time together was limited. That they would have to part and she would have to go back — alone — to ShadowClan, where not a single of her clanmates cared enough to wonder where she was or even grace her with pleasantries. There she could never quite remember how the comforting melody went and would soon grow terrified that, as with Speckledbird, she would forget Stormpaw’s voice too. With territories between them and their visits too few and far in-between, she could never stomach the dread that opened in her soul... a dread that whenever she said goodbye... whenever they had to turn their backs and walk away... she’d never see him again. The thought was like sharp talons digging into her chest, twisting her heart and threatening to disarm her joyous grin.

Why did StarClan have to be so cruel?

Littlepaw forced it all away and pressed herself closer into Stormpaw. She couldn’t think about it now, not yet. Finally, she lifted her chin to fix her cloudy, pale-blue pools on his face, as if she could actually see his young features or search his eyes. ”Oh Stormpaw, it is so good to see you.” She began calmly enough but, as was characteristic, the she-cat continued and as she did so, her voice grew quicker and jarbled. ”So, so good. Oh, it feels like moons! Too long, it’s been too long, I don’t know. Oh, Stormpaw, I’ve missed you terribly.” The tears were there again, but they only brimmed at the corners of her sightless gaze as she smiled, collected but not fallen. ”So, so terribly.”

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Words: 524
Tagged: Stormpaw/Stormpaw
Post Scriptum:

[Petrichor]

Apprentice Stormpaw of BloodClan

"Stormpaw!" The BloodClan apprentice's eyes barely had time to adjust before Littlepaw launched herself at him, knocking them down in a tight embrace in a pile of rubble. Stormpaw's claws unsheathed in habit and instinct before re-sheathing them and wrapping his paws around Littlepaw. She still stank of ShadowClan, but Stormpaw didn't care. Now, it was a welcome smell -- it meant that, at least for now, he had Littlepaw. Could touch her, could talk to her, could embrace her.

Why did Stormpaw feel like humming? His mind recalled one of his twoleg masters playing something on a large brown box, and began to softly hum the song tugging at the back of his mind. He wasn't sure why, but he thought that Littlepaw would like it.

Tears dampened both of the cats' pelts, but they weren't tears of fear or sorrow, but joy to see each other again. It had felt like eons since they last met, and Stormpaw, still quietly humming, closed his eyes and nuzzled into Littlepaw's fur, inhaling her scent and presence like a starving cat would devour a mole.

The song seemed to have done a good job, because Littlepaw began pressing herself further into the BloodClan cat, and he felt a little suffocated, but he didn't particularly care. The rubble wasn't particularly uncomfortable compared to his "nest" in the Catacombs, and it was better to share a nest with Littlepaw anyway.

Where did that thought come from?

Finally, the ShadowClan medicine cat lifted her head as Stormpaw finished his song, and looked right through him. Stormpaw knew she couldn't help it, being blind, but her blue orbs still made him feel a little bit of pity. She would never see the wonderful flaming colors of a sunset, or the cool blue of the sky at night. She wouldn't even know what color his eyes were. A pang of sadness came and went, and Stormpaw pricked his ears forward to listen to Littlepaw's words. "Oh, Stormpaw. It's so good to see you," she said uncharacteristically calmly. And then she began jittering and stuttering, a characteristic that Stormpaw found endearing. "So, so good. Oh, it feels like moons! Too long, it's been too long, I don't know. Oh, Stormpaw. I've missed you terribly. So, so terribly." 

The ShadowClan medicine cat apprentice's eyes were watering again, and Stormpaw leaned forward to lick a tear trailing down her cheek. "The sentiment is much shared on my part, Littlepaw," Stormpaw chuckled, the taste of salt on his tongue.

Stormpaw lightly pushed the other apprentice off his body so he wouldn't be crushed to death, and sat about a mouse-length away from Littlepaw, eager to continue their conversation from their last meeting. "It feels like it's been an eternity and longer. I've told you stories from my past, so why don't you tell me about yours? What was your history like?" Stormpaw asked calmly. He had no idea what he was going to find out, and a few hours later, he would wish he would have never asked, but it was only fair. "Tell me what it was like in your early medicine cat apprenticeship."

((Sorry if it seems like I'm rushing the plot along, I'm just so excited. You don't have to make Littlepaw's past monologue go on for hours -- I'm mostly talking about Honeyleaf's future involvement in the thread, which will probably take place right after Littlepaw's monologue. Thank you for replying, and I'm sorry I type so fast. Oh, and if you haven't already, right-click the word "song" in the second paragraph if you want to hear it!))

[Mama Oak]

littlepaw, the haunted
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this place is a hole, but i don't want to go
i wish we could stay here forever alone

The gentle rasp of Stormpaw’s coarse tongue upon her cheek made Littlepaw smile. He pulled away and she almost thoughtlessly edged forward to follow; not wanting to feel nothing where his warmth had been. Desiring not even a single mouse-length between them... not when their moments were so few and too fast gone. But the blind medicine cat managed — barely, but mangaged all the same — to stop from falling back into him. Instead, she contented herself to a soft, warbling purr. A resonating rumble in her chest to match the quick fluttering of her heart.

The smile fell from her muzzle quick enough, however, as Stormpaw’s velvety voice — always so calm and possessing of a certain, intelligent potential she couldn’t ever quite pin — swirled through her mind. Asking her to speak of those moons behind her, surely not knowing how difficult remembering could be or how reluctant she was to try. ”My history?” The pathetic noise was almost an unheard squeak; no hint of the trembling purr at all touching her words, suddenly full of uncertainty. She no longer fought the urge to embrace him, but the abrupt, instinctive impulse to flee. It was a tingling in her paws and a skip in her pulse. He was likely expecting her to grin eagerly and share fond stories of beloved littermates, like he had a moon before. Or of how excited she had been to finally start training. He couldn’t know. It was better that he didn’t know.

But I want to tell him, Littlepaw realized suddenly, as she crouched just the slightest bit lower and wrapped her tail tightly, protectively, about her forelegs. It was a haunting weight she had carried and endured for half her life, not shared with anyone. No one knowing but those whose eyes had dimmed beneath her sightless watch. Sharp, prominent shoulder-blades poked rudely from beneath her thin, tortiseshell pelt, framing her neck when she tore her clouded eyes from him and bent her head. ”My early apprentice mooons?” The repeated inquiry echoed with doubtful confusion as the medicine cat’s mind suddenly reeled. ”It... it...” The memories long suppressed and denied... the nightmares that frequently plagued her nights ( always forcefully forgotten in the morning)... she beckoned them forth on Stormpaw’s call. And as always, she found them riddled with puzzling gaps and spaces — moments of varying lengths, full of absolutely nothing and bordered always by the harsh scent of death. The sickening feel of bloody paws. A cruel, charming voice laced with frightening threats... never spoken aloud nor plain, but subtle and implied. ”It is not an easy story...”

She shouldn’t tell him. No, Stormpaw couldn’t know. What if he turned away from her forever?

Littlepaw closed the distance between them slowly; that single mouse-length breached by a one, hesitant pawstep. Chin lightly upon his shoulder, eyes fixed on the past somewhere in the empty air behind him, her breath fluttered from her lungs with the last of her hesitance. Then the medicine cat’s mind went blank and her muzzle parted. She didn’t think about the words before they tumbled out— if she did, she would not be able to continue far.

”I was so certain he would take care of me, my mentor, but he left me. He got sick and he died.” The tears didn’t come. She felt the hot, unwanted prickle of pain within her, but she didn’t give it time to surface. ”At first I was in awe of the tom who replaced him. He was so smart. So charming. And so skilled. He had this soft way of speaking that made you lean closer.” Such a lethal, poisonous voice. The thought sliced through her head almost bitterly, but the sourness only lasted a blink and the medicine cat trembled. Her mind shied away from continuing and she shifted; for a moment burying her face into Stormpaw’s chest. Finding the resolve she needed in his scent. Her recovery was quick, but when she lifted her muzzle to rest back on his shoulder, the repressed tears had trickled from her eyes. She hadn’t even felt them. ”I don’t know how many cats he had kil—” A sharp inhale, the word hitched into a squeak as her throat tried to choke it back down. ”Killed... before I finally r-re-realized what he really was. Not smart, not charming, not skilled — only a monster. He was a monster. A terrible, terrible monster. A murderous, black-hearted monster.” She shuddered.

I shouldn’t have told you. Why did I tell you? Leopardcloud could have been my mentor. Kind, caring Leopardcloud. I could have pretended, just for now. Only here. I could have pretended. I could believe it here. Pretend it had all been different. I could have played the part.

”And I was his little fool. The bloody right paw of a monster. I didn’t want to... I swear it, I didn’t... but H—” No. Not that name. Honeyleaf had gotten it across quite clearly what would happen to her if she told someone about him. What would happen to the feline she stupidly confided in. He hadn’t said it directly, but after nine moons with the tom, Littlepaw had learned to ”see” with her ears; could pull the implications from his tones and his manner. The thought of Stormpaw cold and lifeless brought a sudden sob from somewhere deep. It came from her lips with a jab of fear and agony. She shouldn’t have told him.”Butterflyfoot had this soft way of speaking that made me lean closer... that whispered what would happen if I... if I didn’t.”

The words had come from her lips and trickled into the air. Tainted the stale, office. Poisoned their place. Suddenly, Littlepaw was more afraid than she had been before. What if he recoiled? Regarded her with disgust from henceforth? What if... what if he chased her from the territory? Would she run...? Or beg and plead for him not to do this to her? Not him. Would StarClan be amused as they watched? Wouldn’t it be such a sweet retribution for her abusing the vow between herself and the starry ancestors?

Littlepaw pinched her eyes shut tight and clenched her jaws, praying the only friend she had ever had... would not pull away and abandon her.

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Words: 1,045
Tagged: Stormpaw/Stormpaw, Blizz/Honeyleaf
Post Scriptum: So I really like the development that just happened here, but let me know if I took a wrong turn somewhere.

[Petrichor]

Apprentice Stormpaw of BloodClan

Stormpaw's face slipped from eager tension to surprise and worry as Littlepaw grew quietly somber, her voice quavering as it did when they first met. "My history?" The sound was barely a squeak out of his friend's mouth. Stormpaw almost wanted to take back his request for information, to let her keep her secrets, but he realized, watching her cower under a weight only she could see or feel, that her history, whatever she had done, whatever had been done to her, needed to be said, and Stormpaw was willing to listen. He always would be.

After a few repeats of his earlier questions, each more high-pitched than the last, Stormpaw was wondering whether or not he had broken her before Littlepaw stepped forward and rested her chin upon his shoulder, obviously looking for comfort that Stormpaw would provide. "Go on," Stormpaw encouraged, letting her spill out her story.

What came after was a tragedy. Stormpaw couldn't help but flick his ears back in disgust and fear a few times for what Littlepaw had to go through, and he couldn't help but compare his adaptation, ability to project his voice, to this monster of a cat. He felt guilty in association, but the BloodClan apprentice would keep quiet until Littlepaw was finished, moving only to push back against her strong hugs and to adjust comfortably around her jerky movements.

A medicine cat, a murderer. And not only that, but one who had forced an innocent, sweet, adorable, kind cat as his murder weapon. Stormpaw boiled with rage at... whoever this cat was. Stormpaw had noticed the stutter as she spoke of Butterflyfoot, but hadn't the first letter been a Hu- sound, or was that just a sob? Stormpaw decided that it was probably in both of their best interests if he didn't pursue the question. Not yet, anyway. "I didn't want to, I swear I didn't, but Hu -- Butterflyfoot had this soft way of speaking that made me lean closer... that whispered what would happen if I... if I didn't."

Stormpaw stayed silent, letting the tension of the story seep out into the air, and flicked an ear in surprise as the tension refused to cease. He suddenly realized that Littlepaw was clenched, her pelt reeking with fear. He thought for a moment, and realized that she spoke as if she blamed herself for what had happened. That, after telling him, that she feared Stormpaw would run away, abandon her.

The very thought of abandoning Littlepaw made him sick.

"Littlepaw... I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. That horrible cat's doing... those murders... they weren't your fault. You were forced into them, you had no choice, and I don't blame you for a single one. I'm not going to leave you behind, Littlepaw. I would never leave you behind, you know that."

Though this would be a lot easier if you told me who this murderer actually was, Stormpaw left unsaid. It was clear that Littlepaw didn't want to talk about the cat himself yet, and he wouldn't force her to. She would either tell him in due time, or she wouldn't, and Stormpaw didn't really care which one it was as long as Littlepaw was safe and happy. He would kill his whole Clan, no, all the Clans to keep Littlepaw safe, warm, and happy.

Stormpaw was about to utter more comfort when a scent caught his nose. BloodClan. The medicine cat, actually, the one who had been looking after his brother while he was ill. Nonetheless, it was BloodClan smell, and Stormpaw instinctively stepped slightly in front of Littlepaw, even though he knew that his body couldn't hide hers. "Littlepaw, hide. I smell BloodClan." Stormpaw could hear the tapping of pads entering the building, and Stormpaw quietly nudged against Littlepaw's flank. "You have to go, now!"

[FENRIS]

Honeyleaf

"Really Honeyleaf, it's just a runny nose. I'm not catching the sickness." Flame hissed, glaring at the golden tabby across the den. The younger tom kept his eyes on the red berries in front of him, the icy growl behind him not affecting him in the least. With the gentle movement of his paw, Honeyleaf placed the berries onto a leaf to easily carry them over the ginger cat, his stride slow and graceful. The Medicine Cat seated himself in beside the collapsed cat in the middle of his den, wrapping his long tail around his paws, and set the leaf bundle down onto the ground. Neither cat said anything but instead shared angry gazes and vicious vibes. After what seemed like forever, Honeyleaf sighed and shook his head.

"You have caught it Flame, it's quite obvious in fact. Soon you will be a burden like the dozens of other cats here, useless and unable to aid this Clan in any sort of way. Even worse is that all of you are wasting my herbs. If I have to treat you, what happens if Jagged catches the sickness as well? Our dear Leader could potentially die and it would be your fault, but that's just my opinion. My thoughts are that if you are no longer needing my medical assistance, then I could use my time aiding Jagged instead. But I'm in quite the situation, aren't I? You are ill already which ruins my plans. But do not worry, I have an idea." The tabby lowered his eyes towards the berries, Flame's following suit. At the sight of the crimson orbs, the Warrior's ears flicked back and his lips pulled back to reveal a snarl. "Those are Death Berries you idiot, how did you even become Medicine Cat? Or are you trying to kill me?" He snapped. Honeyleaf kept his composure, his gaze shifting back to Flame's. "They are not Death Berries, they are simple fruit with healing qualities. I've cured cats before with them, they are strong and potent. Now, if you'd kindly take them I'd like to start your healing process right away." He replied.

The ginger tom turned away for a moment in thought before hissing at Honeyleaf then lowering his head to sniff the berries. Though he still remained unconvinced he knew that the other cat knew best and slowly licked up the berries. Within seconds they were swallowed and the effects soon began. Flame's brown eyes widened and he began dry-heaving uncontrollably, a look of helplessness on his usually angry face. Honeyleaf watched in cold silence, his golden eyes glued to the now convulsing cat. When the Warrior finally stopped moving the tabby leaned in, searching for any signs of life. There was some vomit dripping from his open jaws but no movement, the cat was dead. With a nod the Medicine cat got up poked his head out of his den to find an empty camp. He then returned to the body and placed various herbs in and around the dead cat's mouth. He made sure there was no evidence of the berries he used to kill the other then prepared to leave camp. By the time he returned someone would notice the body and assume that Flame died while he was gone, the perfect alibi. None of his brainless Clanmates would even suspect him.

Once the camp was out of sight, Honeyleaf started his search for herbs. The sickness was easily contagious much to his distaste, and though he did off most cats he couldn't to every cat that entered his den now. There had to be some cats around right? Though Cobweb had a litter not too long ago, which was good, the Queens needed to keep having litters or Honeyleaf could accidently kill off his entire Clan. He found that amusing, the cat they all depended on to help them was the one they had to fear the most. He was like the virus, killing off the Clan from the inside. And this time he would not be caught, he was going to be more careful from now on, no more Apprentices for him at least. He doubted they'd be as easily manipulated like Littepaw. He wondered whatever happened to her, did she keep killing? Is she forever traumatized? Maybe she's dead, who knows. He didn't much care for her well-being, she had been a thorn in his side from day one.


Having and Apprentice was like babysitting, there was no way he was going to do it again. His frustrations never ended when he was with Littlepaw in the beginning, she was nothing but a waste of space and burden to him. If he could have, he would have finished her off long ago. The only use he had for her was when she stopped resisting and started helping him with his mission. But even then he had to deal with the chance she'd tell someone of his doings, which prompted him to keep a constant eye on her like a worried mother. It was almost a relief that he was exiled from ShadowClan because he didn't have to deal with Littlepaw any longer. And even though everyone knew of his murderous ways she still didn't tell anyone to his knowledge. Such an obedient little cat, the only positive thing about her. But he still had to kill her, just in case.

The sound of voices interrupted the tom's thoughts, along with the scent of ShadowClan. A low growl formed in his throat when the smell reached his nose, however the familiar she-cat voice cut him off. Instead, a dark grin crossed his face for but a second, oh what a coincidence. His little Apprentice was back from the grave. Keeping himself hidden, the tabby made his way closer to the two cats to listen in on their conversation. Judging by the appearance the cat Littlepaw was talking to happened to be Stormpaw, the younger sibling of Stonepaw. Stonepaw, another name that made him smirk. What a gathering of weak, laughable cats. If only he could manage to kill them both off now, the world would not have to deal with such wastes. Oh, if only.

Honeyleaf kept listening to the two, they sounded like they had met before. Sneaking out of the Clan to meet another huh? What a joke. Oh? Littlepaw's history? The tabby stared at the blind she-cat, would she tell him? She began innocently enough, but it quickly changed and the older cat's eyes narrowed in disgust. Maybe she wasn't as obedient as he had originally thought. A name change though, that's cute. Still didn't excuse her from telling him every gritty detail, her recklessness was going to be the end of her. Once she finished and Stormpaw expressed his anger towards her story, he sought his chance and decided to show himself. Slowly he padded out from the brush and circled the two Apprentices, his tail swaying lazily from side to side.

"My my, that Butterflyfoot has done quite a bit of evil hmm? Have to commend him for hiding it for as long as he did though, right Littlepaw?" He remarked, stopping behind the she-cat and brushing her cheek with his tail. "I wonder whatever happened to him, don't you?"

[Mama Oak]

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this place is a hole, but i don't want to go
i wish we could stay here forever alone

The soft, genuine words gave all the reassurance Littlepaw needed; appealing directly to her fears and soothing them. Stormpaw was always soothing her. Her fears, her worries, and her loneliness. It was in the very little time they had together that Littlepaw was the happiest, and it was all due to him. She could only hope her presence was somewhat pleasant in return; that the BloodClan tom wasn’t annoyed by her dramatics or her tears. Although she suspected he wasn’t — or at least hoped — Littlepaw had a feeling the apprentice would never tell her if he was.

She butted her head against the bottom of his chin with an affectionate purr, the last of her tears brushing into the pelt of his throat. Her cloudy blue eyes slid shut as she nuzzled into him. ”Thank you, Stormpaw,” she meowed queitly; her soft voice heavy with emotion that she would never know how to word.

She caught the scent a moment before Stormpaw, and her eyes snapped back open; all warmth and fear draining from her body as her stomach dropped and her chest opened. The scent was not exactly like it had been before, of course, but beneath the acquired smells of BloodClan, Honeyleaf was dominant and unmistakable.

Suddenly, the world started to spin too fast. She could feel Stormpaw begin to nudge her away and heard the hushed urgency in his breath, but her limbs were suddenly detached from the rest of her and she struggled absently. The ”office” around her was reeling away and her consciousness hitching toward awakening fear. Stormpaw’s voice was only a muted whisper beneath the sudden drone of her roiling thoughts and triggered memories, called forth by that cruel, dread-instilling scent. ”No... Stormpaw...” The words were only a breath.

It is you that needs to go, now. The voice in her head was oddly calm. She was vaguely aware that Honeyleaf had stepped from concealment and was circling them, but the spinning world had suddenly slowed to a near-halt. It was almost as if everything was moving in slow-motion; Littlepaw stoic and a world away as her former mentor moved closer. The present stretched into what seemed like an impossibly long moment and both BloodClan apprentice and BloodClan medicine cat were suddenly irrelevant as she lapsed into suppressed remembering.

No, no. Honeyleaf’s minty breath in her ear, whispering sweet, honey-warm words full of cold, bitter poison. This can’t be happening. Soft, light pawsteps, always falling in a lazy and fluid gait. No, no, no. No, please, StarClan, no. The faintest lingering of death beneath that sterile scent of herbs. Stormpaw. Blood had always drenched his paws and soaked halfway up his forelegs in her dreams. Dripped from his muzzle as he smiled a cold, empty smile. No... no. What he had promised her when Stormstar began to get suspicious; what he had told her when he left.

The touch of Honeyleaf’s tail upon her cheek brought the medicine cat reeling back to reality with a terrible shudder and she immediately turned to push herself into Stormpaw. First it was to seek comfort; to bury herself in his fur and hide. She had always felt safe with the BloodClan tom and had always thought he would protect her. But a moment later and she was shoving him frantically, feeling everything but a shielded sense of security. The tears had sprung back in her eyes, unsurprisingly, and as she pushed Stormpaw away again and again, she was trying to speak. Almost yelling. Her voice was not calm like the one in her head, no — it was shrill and pleading; bursting at the seams with a desperate fear that was more intense than it had ever been. She spoke as she forced herself against Stormpaw, not wanting to face the other tom. Although she could not tell you what color Honeyleaf’s eyes were, Littlepaw would be first to testify that they could pierce. That they could see right through you and they could paralyze. In her dreams, they had always been a deep crimson, to match the scarlet upon his maw.

”Please H-H-Honeyleaf, no, please. P-p-lease,” she felt her head throb like it always did when she was around her mentor; how it always did before the world went black and a different piece of her being took over. ”Stormpaw, leave, go. Just, just, just r-r-un. Run. He’s not... he’s... Honeyleaf... please. You have to go, now. Please..” She knew the former ShadowClan tom was unpersuaded by begging, but her pathetic mewling continued regardless. ”I don’t know what happened to Butterflyfoot, I promise.” The fear was creeping up now and stealing away her strength; she cringed and pressed herself to the earth, the efforts to shove Stormpaw away suddenly too much as terror’s icy claw tightened its grip. She turned her sightless gaze to the BloodClan medicine cat, shaking her head as she remembered all the other cats who had begged the healer for life. ”Please, we don’t know. We don’t. I promise we don’t.”

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Words: 837
Tagged: Stormpaw/Stormpaw, Blizz/Honeyleaf
Post Scriptum: I hope this wasn't too terrible. e_e.

[Petrichor]

Stormpaw watched silently as Littlepaw screamed in anguish and shoved herself into him. No... that was wrong. She was trying to push him away. The movement, slightly rocking the small-framed apprentice off balance, reminded Stormpaw of a mother pushing her kits away from a badger. Littlepaw wasn't afraid for herself. She was afraid for him. Stormpaw pieced the puzzle together instantly, but Stormpaw wasn't nearly stupid enough to call Honeyleaf out here and now. The little tactician relaxed into a comfortable seating position, his face blank as he looked in Honeyleaf's direction. The medicine cat's eyes had always somewhat unnerved Stormpaw, so the apprentice knew that the best way to keep his nerves steady was to look through Honeyleaf at the opposing wall. "Hello, Honeyleaf," Stormpaw smiled at the medicine cat, his voice monotone. "I don't usually see you around here. Are you looking for something, because the only things someone of your position would find useful here would be cobwebs." The BloodClan apprentice was just as cold and calculating as he appeared to all his Clanmates, and he was certain that Littlepaw probably thought he had turned into a completely different tom. Suddenly, something rushed to the forefront of Stormpaw's mind. It had been made clear that "Butterflyfoot" murdered his patients. Was it true the same could have happened to... to... No. If Stormpaw thought about his brother, his resolve would waver and he would burst into a righteous fury, and without Stonepaw to cover the physical half of Stormpaw's combat specialty, there was no doubt that he would lose... spectacularly. And he didn't want to leave Littlepaw, cold and alone, in an office building with... him. The thought caused Stormpaw to subconsciously reach a tail behind and slowly stroke Littlepaw's side where Honeyleaf couldn't see. He was still Stormpaw, just... a different one. "My friend isn't lying, by the way. While this Butterflyfoot... This utter monster should be hunted down and ripped to shreds, I'm afraid only StarClan knows where he is... where the chance to do that would be." Stormpaw kept his expression and tone cool. Honeyleaf's words may have been honey-laced poison, but Stormpaw could pull off a lake covered by ice -- you'd never know that there was water underneath. His kittypet adaptation made sure of that. It was somewhat frightening, playing a battle of wits with a chessmaster. From here on out, Stormpaw knew that both BloodClan cats would be watching each other, just waiting for the other to slip up for a chance at their throat. Stormpaw feared losing, but he would do anything if it meant that Littlepaw would be safe. Anything for Littlepaw. Why was StarClan so cruel? "You know, I wish my brother was here right now. Surely you remember Stonepaw, Honeyleaf. I'm sure he would have joined me on the hunt had I asked. I'm certain you'll keep an eye out though, right?" Perhaps he was being a bit cruel. Perhaps Stormpaw was pushing it. But a cat could only take so much silent rage before at least becoming somewhat passive-aggressive.

Trixie:


Listening To: Come Little Children - Kate Covington

Muse: Could be better, could be worse. Hopefully this is okay.


Notes:

((This is either going to be totally awesome or really suck. Probably both, at least for Stormpaw. Your turn, Blizz-master!))

[FENRIS]

Honeyleaf

The sudden fear that consumed Littlepaw at Honeyleaf's presence gave him a rush of excitement, the same kind he got when he was killing off someone he particularly disliked. He became almost like a shark after a bleeding seal when her fear-scent reached his nose after that and decided to keep striking until she was too weak to fight. The tom kept circling the two cats slowly yet steadily to find an opening and attack once more. She seemed to almost try to hide in Stormpaw's fur, meaning not only were they close but she found comfort around him. The black cat kept his eyes on him, indicating that he didn't fear the Medicine Cat. Very interesting. Stormpaw was her knight in shining armour, yet princess and knight would not be able to survive the dragon's mighty flames like the many cats who tried before. 

"It's a damn shame that you don't know where he is, Littlepaw. If you knew, we could have gone along on some kind of adventure to bring justice to the wretched monster. Wouldn't that be something, hmm? But alas, you've lost track of him. Though it's not your fault my dear, you are but a sightless ball of nerves. It's no wonder you couldn't keep up with someone like that." Honeyleaf ignored the initial hello but the way Stormpaw spoke as if he had some kind of authority over the golden cat, as if he was trying to call him out. Honeyleaf stopped circling and sat down in front of the two Apprentices, his tail swaying behind him. His ears flicked back slightly and his claws slid out with ease as irritation swelled up in the cat. He didn't appreciate the attitude he was receiving, the young tom needed to show some respect or he could be the next one who's writhing on his den floor in pain.  "As a matter of fact, Stormpaw, I was on my way to find some herbs when I heard some voices. I didn't mind at first, a border patrol perhaps, but the unmistakable smell of ShadowClan made me come looking. And sure enough, I found you two. I don't know about you but someone in your position shouldn't be trying to start something with someone like me. Jagged wouldn't be too thrilled knowing one of her cats is getting friendly with a ShadowClan cat. Now, would you kindly keep your nose out of my business lest I mention this meeting to our Leader." The older cat replied, every word laced with poison. Stormpaw was digging his own grave with every word he spat, it was only a matter of time before he got sick. And when that happened, Honeyleaf would be sure to give him his just desserts.

At the mention of Stonepaw, a cruel kind of joy bubbled up from under the sea of irritation. Stonepaw had come in with some nasty wounds from the ThunderClan cats but with some care and constant work he could have healed and survived. Honeyleaf saw the injured cat as nothing but a waste of time and supplies, most of his herbs would have been drained just caring for a single cat. If he was stupid enough to get close to a ThunderClan cat he deserved what he had gotten. Honeyleaf didn't forcefully kill the cat, just let him slowly die off from his injuries. If anyone got suspicious he'd throw on some useless herbs and claim that it was much worse than he could have imagined and he was unsure if he was going to make it. Hopped up on enough drugs to keep him half-conscious, Stonepaw said nothing about the ordeal and mostly slept or drooled everywhere. As his condition worsened Honeyleaf began to play around with the dying cat. The visible burns scattered on his body became places the Medicine cat would apply pressure to or stick thorns into, places that went numb from the dead nerves became pincushions for Honeyleaf's claws. After a while the cat become almost like an experimental subject for various mixtures of herbs. When he finally stopped breathing Honeyleaf cleaned away all evidence and opened his den to the public once again, letting them take the body and unknowingly get rid of the cat he let die.

The tabby yawned and scratched his head, clearly showing his disrespect for Stormpaw. He brushed off the cat's glares like nothing and instead turned his gaze back to Littlepaw, who was still huddled next to the black cat. She was still noticeably scared much to his satisfaction but less so with her brute holding her close. He retracted his claws after a while and returned to his calm, collected state, never wanting to show any kind of emotion. Though, he was tempted to get a rise out of Stormpaw, just to show that he could. Since he decided to bring up his dead sibling, Honeyleaf would take a stab at it and see just how far he could go before the younger tom lost his compsure. "Ah yes Stonepaw, the cat who got himself quite a nasty shock. It was a pity that he couldn't recover from something like that, though I never saw much hope for him anyways. He got himself in a bad situation and I tried my best but sometimes your best just isn't enough. StarClan had other plans for him it seems, they work in mysterious ways that no one will ever be able to understand. Though, he was a lost cause as soon as he entered my den. Don't take this the wrong way, mind you, but he simply wasn't strong-willed enough to survive. The life in his eyes was dying from day one." When he finished speaking his stare shifted back to Stormpaw, the golden orbs now narrowed in dark enjoyment.   

[Petrichor]

Stormpaw stayed calm and relaxed as Honeyleaf spoke, letting no signs of emotion pass. Did Stormpaw want to kill Honeyleaf? Yes. Did Honeyleaf deserve to die? He deserved to die horribly. But if Stormpaw so much as suggested all-out combat, he would lose, and Littlepaw would be alone. Of course, with his eyes, Stormpaw noticed Honeyleaf's claws sliding out in front of him. He was getting somewhere, definitely, even if it was only under the "medicine cat"'s skin. Being an annoyance was a dangerous position, but annoyed antagonists had a tendency to monologue... like Honeyleaf was doing right now. "A damn shame," Stormpaw echoed, waiting for Honeyleaf to speak more. Which he did.  "You know, it's funny," Stormpaw nudged his thoughts to the forefront of his mouth, stopping to turn them emotionless and mechanical before they escaped his lips. "You call me out on being friendly with a ShadowClan cat, yet you seem to know her very well. And I honestly don't think Littlepaw the type to openly fraternize with you every half-moon when you medicine cats meet. Seems as if we're both hiding something." There. Stormpaw could see the look on the monster's face at his mention of Stonepaw. Stormpaw knew there was something strange about his brother's murder, and now he knew. Rage boiled beneath Stormpaw's icy surface, but the outside was as frigid and still as ice. He would not let Honeyleaf get to him -- the final confrontation would be with backup, conclusive evidence, and with StarClan by Stormpaw's side. For some reason, Stormpaw bet that there was probably a cat lying dead in the catacombs right now, a murder that appeared accidental. Stormpaw watched as Honeyleaf retracted his claws and opened his mouth. Time seemed to slow down for Stormpaw -- he recognized the look on Honeyleaf's face. It was the same as his when he had found a weakness and was about to strike the soft spot. Stormpaw was loyal to his brother, and though he wanted to rip Honeyleaf's throat out, he kept his resolve throughout the other cat's speech, allowing a little bit of sadness, grief, and fond remembrance slip through... but no anger. No suspicion. "Yes, I know. The electricity coursing through ThunderClan is most certainly a death sentence to those unprepared. I must admit, though, that Stonepaw went down fighting -- neither he or I are the type to suddenly fall ill. The twolegs made sure that our ancestors had quite a strong immune system, though I suppose StarClan probably had a part as well. If only I were a medicine cat, so that I may speak with my brother from the afterlife. The things he could tell me, I'm sure." Don't show anger. Don't show fear. Keep your voice steady. Don't let that monster get to you. Keep Littlepaw safe. Keep Littlepaw safe. Littlepaw will be safe. She will be safe if I have to die to keep her that way... But she won't be safe if I die. Don't show anger. Don't show fear. Keep your voice steady. Stormpaw let the passive-aggressiveness slip from his voice and smiled at the other cat. It was simple conversation, after all. Why would Stormpaw need to be hostile with a cat he might as well be sharing tongues with later that evening? "I'm sure you're doing your best with that sickness, by the way. How strange that cats always seem to die by, what, choking on their own blood? I've never known a sickness to do that before." Deathberries. Stormpaw knew he was using deathberries, because Honeyleaf wasn't nearly stupid enough to claw a cat open, and without Littlepaw there to help murder the cats, if anything were to fall upon his patients that he couldn't simply cast aside, the blame would fall on him.

Trixie:


Listening To: I Am No Hero - Mandopony

Muse: Pretty good, considering.


Notes:

((Now that Stormpaw's gotten that out of the way, perhaps we should allow Oakey a chance to play.))

[Mama Oak]

littlepaw, the haunted
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this place is a hole, but i don't want to go
i wish we could stay here forever alone

Everything with Honeyleaf was civil and soft-spoken. At least on the surface. The older tom did not speak bluntly or directly, but his words were not without a certain edge. A definite promise, threatening but subtle beneath layers of smooth, charming toy. Dark gratification and crooked amusement, only heard if you were wary enough to listen for it. If you knew to hear the little things Honeyleaf was not openly saying.

But Stormpaw knew how to play the game too, Littlepaw realized; the sudden certainty accompanied by a piercing pang of dread. His voice was a carapace of careful, cold composure; his returns delivered with an icy, measured courtesy. His words were emptied of the soft warmth she cherished, but the tail-tip brushing gingerly against her flank silently assured that the Stormpaw she knew and needed was still there. He was still with her. He had told her — could it have only been minutes earlier? — that he would never leave her behind.

As the exchange continued, laced throughout by both toms with unspoken taunt, Littlepaw only pressed herself further to the earth with ears pinned back against her skull, wishing the ground would just swallow her and Stormpaw both. Or, rather, to open and consume Honeyleaf. This was much, much more than simple conversation between two clanmates, she knew, but the blind tortoiseshell she-cat was too terrified to pick out the true, unspoken meaning pinned to their weighted words. If Stormpaw felt any fear (and she wasn’t certain at all if he did) it was locked away without flaw. But hers was palpable, unbridled, and enough for the both of them combined and more. Hiding it was a feat completely beyond the ShadowClan medic and, after all, the scent was not one her former mentor was unused to.

But she did manage to be silent — Honeyleaf had always hated her ”blubbering”. Like the trained apprentice she was, she kept the choked sobs bitten back and her head down. She’d learned throughout the moons that it was easier if she did not say anything at all and only obeyed. Her protests had never bought her anything but a contemptuous sneer she did not need eyes to see.

So, chin tucked into her chest, she did not speak. She could hardly even listen over the sound of blood pounding far-too-loud in her ears. The only thought that broke through her roiling terror cohesively, over and over again, was that Stormpaw knew. And of course he had been able to piece it together! Her unabridged story of Butterflyfoot (the name only seemed absurd now, in regretful retrospect), coupled with her frantic, thoughtless reaction Honeyleaf’s appearance had triggered — had the medicine cat been tickled by the sight of her flailing? Had it brought him a secret, deep-reaching joy to know that he could still instill such fear? — left hardly anything to be guessed.

And if Stormpaw knew... then Honeyleaf would...

Littlepaw clenched her jaw and pinched her eyes shut tight, willing the tears — quiet, ceaseless streams — away. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth and the sharp pain where her teeth had fastened down on her cheek went unacknowledged. Unfelt. Her mind buzzed with guilty thoughts and her ears thundered with the hectic pulse of her fluttering heart. But, as if in response to the growing chaos in her head, a deep, slow throb of slow-spreading calm began to radiate from the center of Littlepaw's very being. It was a familiar sensation, she knew, but somehow she would never remember it when she came back; when she woke up in her nest with her paws cleaned and the lingering trace of a clanmate’s blood on her tongue.

The tranquility uncoiled in her chest and snaked through her veins, filling her limbs with a strange, almost-numbing strength. Willingly, Littlepaw surrendered to the oblivious salvation. She offered her terror forward and felt it slowly ease away, along with the tightly-wound tension from her muscles. As her body went lax, her posture straightened, and she raised her head, the last thought Littlepaw would remember was a silent prayer. An appeal to her starry ancestors that when she came to once more, she would be whole and unharmed. And Stormpaw, her heart, would still be with her.

Her sightless eyes slid back open, and in their depths was an empty sort of clarity. The salty streams of fear had ceased; the last remainder of Littlepaw-as-she-was now left to dry on her black-and-ginger cheeks. In a single moment, the tortoiseshell she-cat was no longer a horror-struck mass of cowardice, but a single-purposed feline wired for nothing more or less than to survive and shelter the frightened Littlepaw inside, tucked away until it was safe to return. Not programmed to love, to fear, or to feel, but to do the work that she herself was too fragile to shoulder. To get the job done and to keep Littlepaw sane. Latching on to the last of Stormpaw’s barbed phrase, mind working through it and conjuring a clinical response, she outstretched her neck toward Honeyleaf and flicked an ear. ”Did you turn the patient on his side, Honeyleaf? They are prevented from choking on their own blood if you’ve positioned them correctly.” The warbling of fear was gone completely from her voice, the question spoken almost crisply. Her tone was shapeless and untouched by anything except practical inquiry. Her sightless eyes were fixed without waver upon Honeyleaf, this part of Littlepaw’s splintered mind the least bit concerned with the tom’s evil.

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Words: 923
Tagged: Trixie/Stormpaw, Blizz/Honeyleaf
Post Scriptum: I am loving this exchange betweein Stormpaw and Honeyleaf. Your guys' posts are so good.

Blizzy, if there’s something you don’t like here about Honeyleaf/Littlepaw relations, just let me know. If I’ve misstepped somewhere about their history or have the wrong idea, tell me.

And also, this post introduces, for the first time, Littlepaw’s other side! I’m both nervous and excited to explore this alter... she just sort of sprung up and wrote herself out there. So... this is the cat that would have taken over and helped with the murders and cleaned up. Honeyleaf very likely knows exactly what just happened. He would be used to it. But Stormpaw... I’m curious to see what he’ll make of it. This is the side of Littlepaw that obeys. Also who emerges when there’s something like a sudden, medical emergency that requires her to be fast and quick-thinking. I imagine this alter to be strictly intellectual. Not opinionated, but practical and quick-to-the-point. When this alter surfaces, these are the gaps of ”nothing” in Littlepaw’s memory. She wakes up later and doesn’t know what happened and can’t recall.

And lastly, just let me know if this... doesn’t fit. c_c I’m kinda nervous about what I’ve done here and I can’t even explain why. So please say something if you think it’s just out of place. I know that last line (what Littlepaw said) is out of place, but that was done purposely: to sort of drive that shift from scared and opinionated to strictly-intellectual and detached. I mean, for goodness sake's, she didn't even use Stonepaw's name! Have you ever had your own character surprise you? I don't know where this all came from.

[Petrichor]

Stormpaw flicked an ear as his pelt suddenly felt a lot drier, and he felt Littlepaw suddenly relax against his pelt. Had she fallen unconscious? No, she would have become much heavier. The only sign of surprise that Stormpaw let slip when Littlepaw sat up, her eyes clear and free of tears (why was blood seeping out of her mouth? Had she bitten her tongue?), having become something that Stormpaw was unfamiliar with. It wasn't the surprise that unnerved the BloodClan apprentice, though. The idea that every cat had something to hide wasn't new to him, but what unsettled him about this... new Littlepaw was how much like Stormpaw she was now. Stormpaw could tell that this Littlepaw was an entirely different cat -- he had spent enough time around Afflictedfury or Afflictedstorm or whatever he was going by that he knew when one cat was in control and when another was gone. All that Stormpaw could think of right now, his mind grasping at logical straws beneath the icy surface, was how emotionless this Littlepaw was. Was... was this how he appeared to his Clanmates? Was this how he had appeared to Stonepaw, back when he was alive? It was a... disturbing reality check. And yet, this Littlepaw had a point, saying something about turning a patient on its side to prevent choking. Stormpaw stifled a smile, and turned to Honeyleaf, completely silent, to judge what the medicine cat's reaction would be. He had no doubt that Honeyleaf had met this persona before, but Stormpaw was curious as to how Honeyleaf reacted to this Littlepaw rather than the fearful, emotional one. The one that Stormpaw knew. The one that Stormpaw loved.

((Sorry about this. I don't really want Stormpaw to say anything just yet, but I thought it would be good for me to post his current opinion before Blizz got on to it.))

[FENRIS]

Honeyleaf

At the mention of his and Littlepaw's relations, Honeyleaf's enjoyment faded. It was true that they never would have spoke to one another if it wasn't for the fact that he mentored the she-cat, though it is true that her 'mentor' hasn't been around as of late. What an cocky child Stormpaw was, his trying to one-up Honeyleaf wasn't working and easy holes were being filled into Honeyleaf's near flawless story. Was he getting a bit frustrated? He didn't seem like the kind of cat who'd forget that Littlepaw told him she was mentorless and he wasn't a very good mentor. Dwelling on that a bit though made him a bit offended however, he was an excellent mentor. If she wasn't into his ways of healing that was her fault but he had a very good way of teaching. She had plenty of hands-on experiences and was taught what did what, that ungrateful pest just didn't appreciate the skills he had given her.

"I aided her when she needed it, Stormpaw. As she told you already, she does not know where he mentor went off to. So it was only right of me to take her under my wing for a bit and teach her the basics of medicine, she has become a more useful cat with the knowledge I bestowed upon her and can help her Clan more easily. It was only natural for someone such as I to help, our Clans are closer to one another as well as my know-how of the practice far surpasses the other Medicine Cats. The whelp was in good hands with me, isn't that right Littlepaw?" It was perfect, not a loophole to be seen in his explanation. The golden tabby raised an eyebrow at Stormpaw, as if to say 'what next, brute?' and flashed a look of a challenge to the younger cat. He was feeling powerful and in control of the situation, able to overcome any obstacle the Apprentice threw his way. Littlepaw wasn't going to aid him either, she knew better. The young she-cat had been quiet for a while as well, Honeyleaf actually applauded that. The girl certainly retained her knowledge.

That tom wasn't able to pin the death of his brother on Honeyleaf, why was he still trying? The tabby cat wasn't stupid enough to give away any major details that could be used against him which made him wonder why he was persisting in talking about it. Honeyleaf began to ignore it and sighed loudly in the middle of his spiel, this was getting repetitive quite frankly, a bit annoying. Stormpaw would not be able to speak with StarClan nor will he ever, Honeyleaf made sure Stonepaw was too drugged to know what was going on so he wouldn't rat him out, the golden cat kept everything clean and didn't let anyone see any evidence of his actions, and his den was not open to the public on most days when the near-fried cat was in there so no one was able to see anything that happened behind those den walls. "Yes, I'm sure he'd say many a things. Things like how he was annoyed his brother didn't let sleeping dogs lie." The cat hissed, annoyance seeping from his words.

His irritation got worse when he continued on about the sickness flooding their Clan. This was getting ridiculous. Honeyleaf had kept his secrecy in ShadowClan for seven moons, then again in BloodClan for six more, this nosy cat wasn't going to be able to find him out and convince the Clan like they did in ShadowClan. The only reason they found out was because they nagged the Leader so much he came for a surprise visit, right when Honeyleaf happened to be cleaning up. He was about to give the black cat another snarky response when his eyes caught Littlepaw looking unafraid. It wasn't hard to see what just took place, the tabby saw it more than anyone else and felt a pang of relief when 'she' came around. The perfect accomplice, the greatest helping hand, Littlepaw's alternate self. When the whimpering stopped and a much sturdier, near silent she-cat appeared, Honeyleaf was able to get things done and finally appreciate the Apprentice he was given. She didn't question, she didn't deny, all she did was work. When like this, Honeyleaf would treat her more like a cat. He'd have conversations with her and teach her things that could come in use, he even enjoyed her company then.

Stormpaw asked another question, Honey ignored. He was done with this supposed know-it-all and focused on Littlepaw instead. She gave him advice, no doubt the same he had given he before, and nodded as if grateful. "The only problem with that my dear, is that I am not that physically strong and the cats I deal with are rather brutish and large in size. If they are convulsing I am not able to hold them down onto their sides while they are choking. I have gotten quite a few nasty scratches from trying, to someone with my body type it's impossible to keep a battle trained Warrior still. I feel like you would have known that though, Littlepaw, we did have the same problem before remember? We didn't stand a chance even with our combined strength, even the sickest of cats can have the strongest of muscles."

Ooc: Oh gosh, I hope that isn't too bad D: