Breaking the Barricade [closed]

The dream had begun, hardly a bud on the eve of Newleaf, and quite near dying in an ill timed frost. Had Beecloud any sense, he would turn squarely around and tell the Asylum guard walking beside him that he was too weak to continue, and though it would be a stark lie, his haggard appearance would have fooled them. He had never felt so lowly and sick, not just for the continued aching of his fragile wounds, but for what he had convinced himself in a moment of impulse that he had to accomplish. Recurrently, he asked StarClan above (and himself, though he figured the ancestors were more credible a source than he was, as a noted idiot) why it had to be him to take up this task. More often, he asked if it was narcissistic to assume he was the only one trying. To soothe his own doubts he postulated himself as a catalyst. His job was to start the chain, not to gallantly lead them to victory.

Though, imagining victory really was getting ahead of himself. He still may die. Perhaps right now, of a heart attack, if he didn't try and quell his nerves somehow.

He didn't attempt to make idle conversation with the guard, nor did he ever, though some cats were inclined to do so. It wasn't in his nature to chatter on patrols, even with his closest mates, and these strange beast-wearers were about as far from friends as he could leap. All Beecloud had told this cat was that he was going to check the border near the thunderpath, where ShadowClan lived on the other side. The whole area was excellent hunting ground only if you were desperate enough to pluck crushed prey off asphalt in the dead of Leafbare, but it was relatively easy to cross with practice. ShadowClan, he told the guard, was apt to traverse the path to steal plentiful prey on the other side, and Beecloud was asked to check it for new scents. All of it was a lie. He was almost certain that Cedarheart had been this way just yesterday.

The saccharine scenery that accompanied the sunhigh after heavy snowfall had always been something which Beecloud had cherished growing up until late into his apprenticeship. It brought him back to youth, to bounding through drifts of frigid, powdery snow until it clung to his thick, impenetrable pelt, and chuckling at his short-furred denmates when they gawked at his gall. It was near impossible to find that joy now, though the sight of fresh cat's pawprints were a step in the right direction. With a glance to the left, and another to the right, he nodded his "companion" forward and made a dash across the cold stone path. Beecloud was trespassing now; he and the guard both knew it. The other cat seemed to be mildly interested in whatever the warrior was playing at, and commented offhandedly about hitting his head too hard when Eris took him to the ground. Beecloud couldn't help but agree that he felt very, very stupid, standing in enemy land when it still took a few extra moments to ease himself up from his nest in the morning, but this risk was well worth the reward he hoped to earn. At the first sign of movement, a grey tabby shape drifting past against the white canvas, Beecloud's heart lurched quite suddenly in his ribcage.

"H-ey!" he gasped and shouted simultaneously. "Don't walk away from me! Come face me like a warrior!"

The stench of the thunderpath was acrid and bitter on his tongue, doing a great job of blocking out any other scents that might be present in the area. As revolting as it was, Mistyfalcon found himself grateful for it as his unwelcome partner seemed to shy away in disgust, keeping a good distance from the Shadowclanner as he loped along the border with Thunderclan in silence.

Good. Anything to keep the rogues at more of a distance. If only he could shake off the feeling of being watched, as well. It made his fur prickle with anger more than unease recently. Always, the rogues were a shadow trailing behind the clan cats. They didn't help in hunts, didn't help defend against predators. He no longer believed that Brighteye had truly managed to slip away unnoticed from camp. A rogue had followed him, after all.

They'd stood back and let her die. And Mistyfalcon had arrived too late. The truth of it was more bitter than the thunderpath stretching beside him ever could be. Rage burned in his gut at the ever-persistent thought. If his own death wasn't a certainty, he would've turned on the rogue that trailed him with claws unsheathed. He could almost hear Brighteye's quiet voice in the back of his head, scolding him for the thought. She would've refrained, he was sure, soldiering on out of sheer spite, waiting for a moment where she could attack and actually cause some damage. She'd always been one to protect her own, even as she'd scold his own recklessness and drag him to the medicine den at the slightest injury.

He was sure Brighteye was up in Starclan and shaking her head at him, even now.

Mistyfalcon closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the acrid stench of the thunderpath that mingled with the forest. A heavy sigh escaped him. Attacking the rogue that trailed him would be suicidal, but stars if it wasn't tempting anyways. If he made it to Starclan, maybe he'd have the joy of hearing her lecture him about it...

He shook his head at the thought. Brighteye would've wanted him to live, not join her side. And his death would only leave the clan short a capable warrior, something they were already short on with the swarm of rogues across their territory. So lost in his thoughts, he barely took notice of the shapes that streaked across the thunderpath until a voice called out to him.

Mistyfalcon's head snapped in the direction of the tabby and white warrior, dark eyes glacial as they took in the Asylum pest that trailed him. Thunderclanner. Tattered ears slicked back against his skull, ruined visage twisting into a snarl.

"Face you like a warrior? Do you want a fight?" There was a snarl in Mistyfalcon's voice, grief-fueled rage making the dark-furred tom far more hostile than he might've otherwise been. The Thunderclanner seemed to be alone aside from the kit-sitter, just as Mistyfalcon was. And the Asylum, in all their uselessness, never lifted a paw when it came to a fight. His experiences against predators and the new scar running down his side were proof enough of that.

Fighting the Thunderclanner would not bring the whole of Asylum in the area down upon his head. Did the other warrior recognize this? Was that why he so brazenly trespassed on Shadowclan territory? Mistyfalcon could certainly oblige the scarred tom across from him, if that was his wish.

Without another word, Mistyfalcon sprang towards him. The guard stayed back, looking more amused than anything at the display.

Mistyfalcon used Jumping Strike on Beecloud for -20sp, dealing 12 damage.

Mistyfalcon
60 / 60 hp
180 / 200 sp (200 - 20)

Beecloud
68 / 80 hp (80 - 12)
240 / 240 sp

Beecloud bared his teeth in more of a fear-grimace than anything else before bracing for the attack that was surely to come. Mistyfalcon was larger and far more ferocious than the older tom had prepared for, and the blow sent him tumbling backwards, with the pair becoming entangled in a ravine on the side of the Thunderpath, with the ear-ripping sound of monsters occasionally rumbling overtop of their panting breath and few words. The warrior's wounds seared as they came in content with dirt, grass, and claws, but he persisted in driving the fighting pair ever farther into the taller grasses. Beecloud craned his neck to check on the Asylum guards behind him as Mistyfalcon geared up for another attack.

"Well, I'd sure like it to look like one!" he whisper-screamed, raising a large mitten to feebly slap the grey ShadowClanner atop the head, right between his ears. "My name is Beecloud, and as long as we keep fighting, they'll ignore us."

His paws came back up in a kind of faux-wrestling move, and he took Mistyfalcon by both shoulders, pushing nose-to-nose with such desolation in his expression that he seemed almost feral. In a sense, he was; the reckless abandon with which his head and heart both equally begged him to turn away and forget his task made him feel rabid and lowly. At any other point in his life, he might fall to the ground, weeping into Mistyfalcon's fur and begging him for help, but the circumstances had made a beast of him. When he stared into Mistyfalcon's hardened eyes, he saw only the sky on a Greenleaf morning, in a free forest ripe with feathers, newt-tails, shining pebbles, and good hunting. That vision was all that mattered and all that would ever be. If he was not there to see it, so be it. But this tom might be. "Listen to me, now. There's no hope if we don't have the strength of all five. Why do you think they won't let us talk?" he hissed. "They know the individual clans can't stop them. Our clanmates disappear in the night, our camps are infested, and if you try and fight back... you turn out looking like me. And it's breaking us down. They're beating the fight out of us."

He stepped off of Mistyfalcon and backed up into a firm, wide stance, tail lashing as if he were ready to spring out once more. "This is a burden I won't force on any cat," he said over the screeching of a passing monster. "Run away now, and I will leave, and you'll never hear about it again. If you stay... you agree pass the message for me."

Beecloud paused for many moments, catching his breath and letting his eyes flicker back to the guards, who conversed with each other and amused themselves with the free entertainment. They weren't interested in any banter that may or may not be passed, after all. They were looking for blood. For the first time, the tom was flooded with a feeling of respite. This might just work. One day, he'd thank Kitefire for her ingenuity.

Beecloud used Upright Front Paws on Mistyfalcon.

Beecloud
68/80 HP
220/240 SP (-20)

Mistyfalcon
46/60 HP (-14)
180/200 SP

"Mistyfalcon." He gave his own name, trying to keep the spark of interest showing on his face to a minimum as the Thunderclanner spoke. It simply wouldn't do to have the Asylum tipped off to whatever this plan was. He could certainly assist in making this look like a fight, at least.

"They don't give a rat's tail about us so long as we fall in line. I watched my mate die because none of them could be bothered to get their paws bloody for a mere clan cat... But stars forbid it's one of their own in trouble." Bitterness tinged the quiet words as he growled, twisting to duck out of the way of the paw aimed towards his head on instinct, practically cringing back before he caught himself. For a brief second he could almost smell the dog's foul breath, hear the heavy breathing, before the blow connecting with his shoulder instead brought him back to the present. He hadn't been quick enough to dodge, but the blow was alarmingly light, even for this pretend skirmish.

Beecloud braced his paws on Mistyfalcon's shoulders then, in a move not-dissimilar to the ones used in the sparring matches the Asylum had orchestrated previously. Mistyfalcon looked into the other tom's eyes and saw desperation, something that had mostly been hidden on his own face, masked by grief and rage in turns. The large Thunderclanner spoke, and Mistyfalcon listened, dark eyes fixed on his 'opponent.' The desperation in his eyes could only be genuine, when paired with his words.

...Or maybe Beecloud was a liar.

The almost-crazed expression didn't speak to that of deceit, however.

"I would do anything to be rid of these pests." He rasped. "Can't do a thing on our own, the only way we'll be able to make progress is if we work together." As Mistyfalcon spoke, he twisted, a paw flashing toward Beecloud's underside. Claws unsheathed, but not to their fullest extent... And the speed of his blow was hampered somewhat by the angle at which both cats were positioned. From a distance, it would be easy to say the other tom simply moved too fast to be clawed at effectively, or that the grief and anger Mistyfalcon held so close had hindered his skill.

Mistyfalcon used Half-Turn Belly Rake for -20sp, dealing -13 damage.

Mistyfalcon
46 / 60 hp
160 / 200 sp (180 - 20)

Beecloud
55 / 80 hp (68 - 13)
220 / 240 sp

There was a moment of complex understanding between both toms, and Beecloud became heart-wrenchingling cognizant of Mistyfalcon's own great loss. They had both suffered, and self-efficacy had eluded them in their moments of darkness, thanks to the Asylum. Every cat lived under constant fire. Cut off from the other clans, Beecloud could have only guessed at the situations across borders. For the most part, their rulers had kept them close, steering them away from borders and restricting all contact with outsiders. In fact, this was the first time the tom had spoken to an outsider in a season. ThunderClan's case was not unique in all of the forest, after all. Though a part of him had always known that this was true, as by this point they would have otherwise been liberated, seeing the effects of the forest taken over with his own two eyes made his blood boil. Mistyfalcon shared that experience and that drive. He had found the right cat for the job.

"Then, welcome to the hunt," he whispered, "The Mousehunt is what I'm calling it. We'll use it as a code, so that we know who to trust. You might ask, 'are you a cat or a mouse?' or tell them 'you fight like a mouse.' Anything works. These spars will be our disguise... using their own tools and laws against them. I don't know what my next message will be, but... I'm figuring this out as I go. For now, all that matters is that every clan knows the call. You have to pass it along."

Beecloud dove after Mistyfalcon's flank, lightly tipping him over onto his side. "They made a mistake, not killing me the first time. With StarClan as my witness, we're going to be free before the first flower blooms. I want my kits to wake up on a Greenleaf morning as warriors without the smell of rotting pelts in their camp."

There was a loud laugh behind him, and the warrior was reminded that they were not alone, and the Asylum cats' small talk would not hold their attention forever. "We don't have much time left, but if there's any news from ShadowClan that might be useful, I'd love to know it."

Beecloud used Jumping Strike on Mistyfalcon.

Beecloud
55/80 HP
200/240 SP (-20)

Mistyfalcon
32/60 HP (-14)
160/200 SP

"Understood... And I would see my clanmates free of this scourge upon our forest." He muttered, commiting the tom's words to memory. Mousehunt... It was fitting.

Mistyfalcon retaliated against the quick tap to his side, striking out with forepaws aimed for Beecloud's shoulders.

"Ebonysong's our new deputy, Ravenmist stepped down. New medicine cat too, has a good head on his shoulders." Mistyfalcon's voice dropped even further as he spoke, unsure if he should even reveal the next bit of information. It was a weakness, after all, and yet... If they were to fight Asylum, it was better that the Thunderclanner knew his allies. If he was speaking to cats and accidentally tipped off an Asylum sympathizer, the plan was doomed from the start.

"Tanglerose joined the rogues, gray she-cat, flat face, ugly temper... I hope all is well in Thunderclan?" He queried. How strange, he'd never really given the other clans much of a thought other before, but with Asylum... They were allies in this, at the very least, facing a common enemy. Asylum wanted to erase the clans, and Mistyfalcon found himself not wanting that to happen.

Mistyfalcon used Rear-Up to Slash for -15sp, dealing -13 damage.

Beecloud
42 / 80 hp (55 - 13)
200 / 240 sp

Mistyfalcon
32 / 60 hp
145 / 200 sp (160 - 15)