the dog days of summer [closed]

This past moon had been, well, it had been a doozy, that’s for sure. Deerhawk let out a heavy sigh as he stared at his paws. SkyClan’s attack, Daystar’s ascension, not to mention his own daughter’s betrayal. It weighed heavy on a tom’s mind. He wanted to say he was surprised, he really, truly did. To leave her family - to leave her own young kits - and vanish without a trace, he wanted to say that he didn’t see it coming. But there had always been a seed of doubt. Perhaps she’d been raised in a way too at odds with Clan life. While he still despised the Asylum after all they’d done, there was a part of him that hoped that his own kit could come back and live the life she was supposed to.

Was Henkit, or Brick as she was called now, happy? Was she still in RiverClan?

What a woeful way to spend his time, wondering aimlessly how things could have been. This was what he got by sitting by himself along the gorse wall. He stood and stretched, letting his face twitch at the sharp pain above his hips. The pangs of old age were long overdue. He’d asked young Goldenfang if she wanted to come on a patrol with him this afternoon and it was about time they set out. She was fresh to the role of deputy, and he had a bad feeling she was going to be the type to overwork herself, to hide her strain from her Clanmates. There were quite a few young cats like that nowadays. He stood straight as he always did and went and found her. “Are you ready to head out?”

If cats could sweat, Goldenfang would be soaked. It was hot out, but more than that, she’d made a silly mistake. She thought she’d assigned Shrikestorm to the dawn patrol, but he came back to camp with a rabbit and his mouth and without the rest of the patrol. When she’d asked him where they were, he stared at her like she’d grown a third ear, and she slinked away realizing that it had been Ryesnap on the dawn patrol. Bothered, flustered, and a general mess, the young deputy rested on a patch of grass and groomed vigorously. So vigorously, in fact, that she might eventually put a bald patch in her pretty fur if she kept it up. Deerhawk’s approach startled her. She stared blankly up at him.

“Ah, yes. Quite ready.” Goldenfang smiled brightly, wondering when she’d spoken to him about going out to presumably hunt. She could remember saying it, but was it yesterday? The day before? A deep stretch masked her uncertain body language. Getting out of camp would be good. She wanted to pretend to be a regular warrior again. Just for a little bit…

This was one of the days Deerhawk was thankful for his thin coat. It sure didn’t help in Leafbare - and he wasn’t looking forward to this coming season - but it gave him an advantage in this weather. With his mouth held agape slightly to pant away the heat, he could see Goldenfang practically burning up. She needed some water. “Let’s head down to the creek bed, shall we? We might find things looking to beat the heat there.” He steered the course in that direction, a gentle downhill slope with long, dry grass. Just itching to catch fire, a part of him thought uneasily. He even thought he saw a flash of bright flame in the fields, but there was nothing there. His back started to twinge again.


After a bit of walking, his voice rose just above the sound of the windblown heather. “How are your new duties treating you, Goldenfang? Did Daystar give you any pointers? Be honest, now.” They were coming up on the creek now. Though the sound of moving water was quiet, it was there all the same. He slowed his pace and focused on what he could smell. A hare or two, a pawful of mice, and some birds of course had come down to drink. As they cleared the edge of the grass he could see the prints they’d left behind as well. That made their task a little bit easier.

“Oh, I’m always honest, Deerhawk.” Goldenfang chimed, though the truth in that statement was debatable. She was grateful for the opportunity to stop. The sun was absolutely baking her, though she wasn’t about to admit it. After a generous drink from the creek, which she used to organize her response, she meowed, “Yes. Well, yes and no. Mostly I believe in you and you’ll learn as time goes on, and other things like that. I do appreciate it, really, I mean, I get she’s busy. And it’s an awful way to become leader. Those other ‘stars are horrible sometimes. So I just want to do what I can, y’know?”

She pondered the reality of deputyship with a blank stare into the water of the creek. She felt the same and probably looked the same—the trickling water distorted her objectively beautiful face—but now she had her own special place to sit at meetings and had the envy of kittens in all Clans. Had she even wanted it? “I’m glad to be deputy, of course. It’s a rare opportunity and I’m grateful that Daystar trusts me so much. I’m going to be better... than the other deputies, y’know, Bloodspit and Loonyface and the like. I just hope I can… stop them, I guess? We all got hurt in that battle. I want to be able to fight them off. Or scare them enough that they don’t even try ever again. Maybe even like me so much that they won’t want to.” A smooth pebble was trapped between her paw and the ground, rolling back and forth with her fidgeting. It felt weird to speak so openly about her doubts, but Deerhawk was a good cat. Paternal, almost, and that dredged up a hint of bitterness. It couldn’t be helped, though, could it?

Deerhawk bent, sniffed, and drank a few laps from the stream himself. No fish in these waters by how it tasted, not that he knew how to catch them, he'd never tried, but WindClan was lucky these seasonal creek beds were filled at all. Without them this blazing Greenleaf wouldn't just be a nuisance, it'd be downright dangerous. "That's good. Daystar didn't get to spend a long time as deputy herself, so I suppose there's a steep learning curve facing the both of you. Now that I think about it, neither of you would remember how the Clan was run before." Before the Asylum. He paused for a moment, looking out into the waving grass tufts on the other side of the water. He was almost able to smell the haunting aroma of Goldengaze's blood pooling and melting the frost around her, before freezing once again. Perhaps that scent was a little too real. Was he just imagining it? "I prefer Spottedstar - SkyClan's last leader - to Wolfstar now. He was more ornery than a bruised badger, but at least he wasn't war-hungry. I'm still not sure what Wolfstar hoped to accomplish with that pointless battle. Foolish. " A almost imperceptible growl colored his voice.

He sighed and released the tension in his shoulders. "You don't have to work so fast on being the best, doing what you can for us is all you need to do. You're still learning the tricks of the trade and no one's expecting you to be perfect all the time. If there are some cats that do, they're being unrealistic. Stars, I'm sure Bloodspit and Loonyface and the others make plenty of mistakes all the time. So do I. Everyone makes a misstep in the dirtplace every now and again. No one worth your trouble will bite your head off about it."

Deerhawk turned slightly back towards the grass, making a move to get on with their hunting, but for some reason the fur on the back of his neck raised. The air was dead still. With the breeze gone, he could smell it. See it. And it was clear that it had been well aware of them for a long time. Its eyes gleamed from behind the young deputy. His voice came quiet and stiff. "Come this way. As calmly as you can. Do not look back."