The Frayed Ends of Sanity [Wolfstar]

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"Grandfather, can we talk? Not here, though." Beechface had approached Wolfstar in camp earlier, trying to hide her own anxieties. The half-moon had come and gone, and Beechface couldn't shake the vision that Starclan had finally given her. She'd pondered over it in silence, and now she thought she knew what the Stars meant. It seemed only obvious to her, at least, but she wasn't without biases, either. Wolfstar needed to be told, at the very least.

She'd left camp to search along the great ridge for herbs. An asylum guard trailing her, as had been usual. She hated the presence of the pelt-wearing foxheart, but it couldn't be avoided. Wolfstar was hunting, supposedly, and they'd just so happen to run into each other.

This meeting hadn't been planned, she had nothing important to tell him. Not at all. Beechface's wariness was nothing new to the rogues that accompanied her on her wanderings through the territory, and recently her agitation had only grown when Dawnhawk had saved her life. Or so the rest of the clan believed. There was nothing unusual about the tension in her shoulders or the way her fluffy tail flicked back and forth in annoyance.

Smokefeather hardly spoke, hardly ate, and instead of laying in her nest she'd taken to extended hunting patrols. Back to back to back, only returning to camp to drop prey onto the fresh kill pile or to practically fall into her nest to sleep. Her eyes and pelt seemed more dull than ever, and the bits if once wispy fur that seemed to cover her nest, that were left behind where she stood still for more than a moment, scared Beechface more than she could say. A few warriors had taken to following her at a distance as she roamed the territory, and all they could tell the medicine cat was that her mother seemed hardly aware of anything beyond the prey she hunted. She was like a ghost, never seen in one place for long, likely to vanish if you looked at her too closely.

Foxfire still hardly left his nest, consumed with grief for Flowerthorn and his own kits. He seemed hardly aware that two kits had been taken from the nursery by a hawk at all. The same could not be said of Ashstorm, who had also lost a kit, or of her mate who was laid up in the medicine den with a broken leg.

And to top it all off, Blossomstep had seemingly vanished. Her grandmother had always been the first to help care for others, was the first one to check in on Beechface herself... And she was gone. Beechface had helped search, of course, and found nothing.

Kits dying, warriors disappearing... And the Asylum seemed as strong as ever. Beechface was worried for the clan, the weight across her shoulders seeming heavier by the day. Leaf-bare's chill might have been slowly starting to recede from the forest, but her heart was still encased in icy fear.

The medicine cat meandered along the great ridge, weary yellow-green eyes scanning for herbs. Definitely not looking for the dark shape of her grandfather.

The scrawny mouse clenched between his teeth made Wolfstar's stomach grumble uncomfortably, but he knew that if he ate it, it wouldn't stay down. He'd been unable to eat, unable to sleep, unable to think straight in the previous few days, with how desperately worried he'd been. Blossomstep was missing, no trace, no clue, no explanation, and with the string of bad luck that SkyClan had been hosting, it was all he could do not to think the worst.

What if she was dead? Or worse... what if she had left... abandoned her family, abandoned SkyClan, and why? Because of him. Beechface's request for a chat had been surprising, but he'd agreed, and now here he was, his ambergold gaze sweeping the horizon. They landed on Beechface a split second before she saw him, and he hesitated, brow furrowing in worry, but he quickly cleared his expression and meandered casually towards her, tail half-raised in greeting.

"Wolfstar." Now that he was in front of her, Beechfound found that her words came stiff and uncomfortable. The sense of ease she'd felt had long since disappeared, and she could no longer say with confidence that she looked up to her grandfather as she once had. She was no saint, but his choice in deputy was going to tear the clan apart.

"I had a... vision, I suppose." She muttered after a moment, tail flicking in disgruntled unease. Yellow-green eyes picked out the unwelcome specters of the Asylum hovering, and her ears rotated back in anger.

"'Mice rummage at the roots of trees, but with the warmth and return of prey comes threat of predators and danger. Beware the vipers that lie in wait,' was the message. There was a mouse, foraging for food, and a snake lunged for it, but the vision faded before it reached its' target." She mewed quietly, recalling what she'd seen in the vision.

"I've been pondering over it for days. The only thing I can think of that isn't a literal viper is them. How often do they preach about wanting peace, wanting what's best? And what, exactly, have they done for Skyclan? Taken our actual deputy, taken a valued warrior? Attack us for nothing?" Her voice was a low growl, yet betrayed not even a fraction of the true depth of her anger. The Asylum didn't need to be named, it was obvious to whom Beechface referred to.

The medicine cat turned, dark gaze spotting something green, something growing, not far off. She moved closer, hopeful. It seemed as though she was always running low on something these days, anything at all that she found was welcome.

"Your choice of deputy is very insistent that he wants what's best for Skyclan, yet he only ever seems to lift a paw for the clan when it does him the most good. He's awfully insistent that they serve the greater good, and that they don't want bloodshed or dissonance." She refused to speak Dawnhawk's name, refused to think of him as family.

She sniffed at the herb, carefully harvesting it. Not nearly enough to fill her depleted stores, but she needed to leave enough of the plant so that it could grow. Thyme soothed the mind, and a whole forest full of it wouldn't be enough to sooth Skyclan, she felt. Smokefeather, Foxfire... Even Wolfstar looked heartsick. He'd done it to himself, but... Beechface still hurt to see it. He was her grandfather. He'd been her mentor, once.

"Do you think he believes himself?" Dark eyes swung towards Wolfstar once more. Do you believe him? Beechface wanted to ask, wanted the answer to be a resounding 'no' desperately.

The member 'kjSage' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Effect Dice' : 2

"A vision?" Wolfstar murmured. He hesitated, listening to Beechface's explanation with his brow furrowed. His granddaughter was cross with him. He knew that, and the anger in her voice said the same thing, though it was not clearly directed at him. The leader let out a breath through his nose, glancing up into the sky as if StarClan would be there, giving him some clue about what he should do.

But her question caught him off guard, and Wolfstar grew silent for a long moment. His voice was quiet when he replied. "I think you know your brother better than anyone," Wolfstar said. "The only thing he's ever believed in is himself." There was a bitterness in his voice that the leader couldn't suppress. "But..." he faltered, shaking his head and unable to continue.

He turned away from her, ears flat. "I don't know."

"He's not my brother." Beechface muttered sourly, though her tone had lost a lot of the fire it had held. "But you're not wrong. I don't know any other cat as self-interested and vile as he is, even among them." She continued to pick a meandering path through the great ridge, dark eyes spotting a hint of something poking out from the snow. Trudging closer, the juniper berries were a welcome sight, and the medicine cat carefully harvested them as well.

The member 'kjSage' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Effect Dice' : 3