entirely guilty by design (c)

The last of greenleaf's warmth was slowly beginning to fade in the mornings and evenings. However, at the peak of day-- like now-- the sun's heat still beat down on RiverClan camp. Most of the hunting got done at dawn and dusk. In the strangely late heat, cats tended to feel more lethargic. It was a better time for sharing tongues, for swimming practice, and for quiet relaxation in camp. Perchstar was doing none of these things. While waiting for her next patrol, she found herself pacing around camp, checking on her Clanmates to see what they were up to. Brookstone and Stormdance shared tongues near the fresh-kill pile; Rowanpaw was telling a tall tale to some of the kits in the nursery; Poppyshine was grooming her fur a few fox-lengths away, and probably going over the patrol lists in her head. Perchstar felt her expression soften as she glanced at her friend. The deputy had always been so kind to her... even just this morning, she'd brought a fish over before Perchstar could make her own way out of the forest to hunt. For a moment, she considered going over to talk. But she thought better of it. Why interrupt Poppyshine's rest? It was a hazy, lazy afternoon. All cats who could should be allowed to relax for a moment. With her neutral expression returning after a brief smile, she continued her walk across camp.

The younger cats were not the only ones relaxing in the oppressive sun-high heat, it seemed. Twistpool was on the sand in front of the elder's den, sprawled out-- probably enjoying the recent removal of ticks from his bedding. A slight apprehension stayed Perchstar's paws before she could approach. Out of all cats in the Clan, Twistpool probably liked her the least. And, with good reason. Having seen Ivystar and Dewlight at the heights of their glory, he had made no secret of his displeasure that she should somehow succeed them, after Jaystar's hectic rule. She could not exactly say she disagreed with his occasional biting comments, as snide in their tone as his brother Sparrowclaw had been apathetic... so, normally she just avoided him, as well as she could. However, it was too late for her to pretend she had not seen him, as their eyes accidentally met during her momentary freeze in pacing. Perchstar, you are leader of RiverClan. Twistpool is your Clanmate, as well... and as an elder, he is under your care. You should put your past behind you and speak with him as you would any other. She could deal with another comment or two... it wouldn't be that bad, compared to the nagging voice inside her own head. This was her job, wasn't it? Still, it was with an inner apprehension that the leader approached a few more steps. "Are you well, Twistpool?" she asked politely, with no hint of worry on her perfectly neutral features.

Well, she should have expected this to go poorly. The moment Twistpool seemed to recognize her, his face soured, and Perchstar found herself bracing her paws against the ground for the tongue-lashing she realized was about to happen. It wasn't a unique circumstance. No leader could expect every cat to like them-- especially those old enough to have seen another leader. A better leader. Ivystar was the best leader RiverClan has ever known. She barely twitched an ear at the nickname he called her, simply standing her ground as the grizzled old tom shook sand from his fur and moved his head to properly direct his anger. Why so much vitriol? Any leader would be good compared to Jaystar. Was her nine lives not evidence enough that StarClan had accepted her? Did they actually accept me? Or was everything at the Moonstone a dream? That strange thought was dismissed instantly. She had already lost one of her nine lives. If the stars had not deemed her worthy, she simply would not have returned. That was evidence enough. Logic dictated it was so. His epithets made no sense. And yet, the unkind words the elder spat made her grit her teeth nonetheless. He was so different from his brother... and yet, so much the same. Sparrowclaw had never been so overly hostile. It was his apathy and general disdain for most cats around him that had kept him so often at odds with his brother, who preferred hot words and confrontation to icy silence. And yet, brothers they had been. That relation between them seemed obvious, as the verbal dressing-down from Twistpool began to make her feel like some kind of helplessly confused apprentice again, wondering why a cat so much older than her did not seem to understand her very purpose for being.

It was the last remark that she took particular umbrage to. Her outward persona still perfectly calm, Perchstar could feel the warmth of the sun beginning to overheat her pelt. The fox attacks, the pre-warrior fiasco with Sprucebark, the most recent outings that ended in battle with a goose... these things were not her fault. It was not her fault that the abundance of prey this greenleaf had simply attracted far more predators than usual to RiverClan's lush territory. Or was it? It would likely be better to walk away, but Perchstar instead found herself responding in a barely-neutral tone to Twistpool's accusation. "Hopefully the new rules I have implemented will result in less injuries," she said, resisting the urge to flick her tail in annoyance. He was way out of line... even if the irrational emotions at the back of her heart murmured that there might be some truth to what he said. "I do not control the geese, weasels, and occasional fox that roam this territory. All that we can do is strengthen our numbers, outlast the predators when leaf-fall lessens their numbers, and fight them when we encounter them." Was it really enough? Had this been some sort of punishment from StarClan? Uncertainty crept into her mind, but not her tone. Her face remained perfectly calm as she looked down on Twistpool's still-reclining form.

As Twistpool continued to berate her, not backing down, Perchstar felt her legs stiffening beneath her. She was instinctively trying to stand taller, to regulate her face to the most netural, impassive look possible, but it was difficult to do alongside the burning shame of the knowledge that other cats in camp were probably seeing her get upbraided by a grizzled old elder. It was her job to walk away. She knew this. She knew when approaching, despite her hopes for a somewhat friendly altercation, that Twistpool hated the very ground she stood on. She had just hoped... maybe, since she had been doing better... but no matter. She had barely improved at all, anyway. It was getting harder to ignore the spiraling thoughts of self-loathing that echoed in the elder's voice. She tried to defend herself against the barrage, but fighting on two fronts was more than she could handle.

"Sprucebark was never seriously injured," she protested, trying to ignore the tiny crack of desperation that was close to being evident in her voice. "I did my best to protect him. He hasn't been going out alone. No cats have died to predators under my watch, at least. I saved him from the weasels, I saved Yarrowblossom and Woolywing from the fox, and RiverClan will be fine, and..." It was useless. What was the point of fighting back? He was right. The predators wouldn't have gotten this far if Ivystar was in charge. She would have done better. She would have fixed everything. She would have... she would have.... Perchstar's gaze dropped, blue eyes fixed squarely on the sand shifting loosely beneath her paws, as if it would somehow swallow her up and save her from the scrutinizing glare of Twistpool. Just walk away, you fish-brain. Walk away. Walk away. Her paws wouldn't move. Pathetic. Ivystar would have been able to keep Bloodstar in line. Ivystar would have driven out the Dark Forest immediately, not after two moons. Ivystar would have made all the apprentices listen to her so that they didn't get hurt. Ivystar would have defeated every predator without losing a single life. "I... I just...." Her jaw clenched. Shame burned through every inch of her pelt. She was pathetic.

Twistpool rolled his eyes, making no effort to try and conceal his annoyance at Perchstar’s stammering excuses. “Just nothin’! Does a cat have to die to justify when you’re doing a poor job? Well how about all of the other cats who have died under your watch, then, are they a sign of you being a poor leader? Like Cloverheart, or all these queens that keep up and dying when you’re around, or even your apprentice, what was it, Beetlepaw?” Twistpool glared harder at her. “Well don’t just stand there slack-jawed! I want an answer!”

“Twistpool!” a familiar voice rang out. Suddenly Perchstar was not alone in staring down Twistpool as he rattled off complaints and stabbing statements; Poppyshine was at her side, stepping forward a little bit and taking Twistpool’s eyes off of Perchstar. “I’m so happy to see how lively you are today.”

He gave an annoyed grunt and muttered, “Deputy to the rescue, is it?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Poppyshine replied innocently. “Tell me, Twistpool, has Rowanpaw been to see you yet?” He grumbled out a ‘no’ and she barreled forward without letting him get started again. “Oh no! I’ll have to go find him and let him know that you need some tending to. I’ll have him bring you a big fish, too.”

Poppyshine’s gaze turned to Perchstar. “I also wanted to talk to you about some of the patrol assignments for tomorrow. One of the warriors reported some interesting findings that we might want to discuss. Shall we go to your den, Perchstar?” It was an obvious ploy to get Perchstar away from Twistpool, and her eyes shined with sympathy as she looked at her leader. She didn’t understand why Twistpool held such vitriol towards Perchstar, but Poppyshine was certainly not going to have Perchstar continue to stand there and take it.

"Well how about all of the other cats who have died under your watch, then, are they a sign of you being a poor leader? Like Cloverheart, or all these queens that keep up and dying when you’re around, or even your apprentice, what was it, Beetlepaw?"

Perchstar physically flinched. This whole time she had done well in keeping as neutral an expression as possible, despite her words betraying how conflicted she felt. But that was a low blow. Claws raked through her heart at the brutal reminder of her failures. A waterlogged corpse floating down the river; a birth-bloody form lying still in the nursery; a tiny cat, tinier still in death, sprawled out alone in the middle of camp. Her fault. Under your watch. Her fault. When you're around. Her fault. Poor leader. My fault.

A small voice was trying to reach her in the back of her mind, but the spiraling noise of her thoughts drowned it out. She could only hear a few words. "Wasn’t your... fault, Perchfall, so... please don’t blame...." It was no use. The small spark of warm memory was extinguished by the flood of self-loathing that had broken through its tenuously constructed dam once again. Everything in front of her looked fuzzy. The real world was fading away, taking with it the accusatory glare of Twistpool and the soft warmth of the midday sun, dissolving into the raging river that had begun to consume her thoughts once more. Every part of her body had frozen up, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think. Not again, not like this, I don't want to break down in front of him, I don't want to, please stop--

A soft voice drifted in through her ear. She could have been imagining it. She couldn't tell what was real anymore. "How lively you are.... go find him.... patrol assignments.... findings.... Perchstar?" She blinked hard, forcing reality back to her eyes, even if the roar in her mind drowned out whatever communication had been attempted. Blurrily, she saw calico fur and a familiar pair of green eyes trying to reach her. A tiny pinprick of light in the darkness of the riverbed. Vaguely, it occurred to her that her name had been part of a question. Poppyshine had asked her something. Likely... some pretext to get her away? It was hard to think. She had to fight against herself. Every word going through her head that wasn't blaming herself was fighting a losing battle, swimming upstream with a storm brewing ahead. Still, after a few moments, she managed to nod her head. All she could do was allow herself to be led away by her friend, feeling the glare of Twistpool's eyes on the back of her retreating form like a physical pain, still lost in the shattered flow of memories. The image of Cloverheart's corpse wouldn't leave her mind. A memory of Beetlepaw handing her some kind of stone was in the back of her thoughts, but it seemed distorted as it replayed infinitely. Dead. They were dead.

Eventually, Perchstar and Poppyshine were somewhere else. It was quieter. Was it the leader's den? That would explain the feeling of willow stems that brushed against the side of her fur as she sat down abruptly next to the wall. She slumped down, allowing her shaking limbs a brief reprieve as she sat. One side was completely pressed into the wall, her face turned away from the warm spot of energy where she could sense Poppyshine's presence. She didn't want anyone to see her like this... but if it had to be someone, at least it was her friend, instead of that elder. Thankfully she wasn't crying. If nothing else, she had been able to keep back the tears that had momentarily threatened to obscure her vision. Now, it just felt like she had a headache. Her breathing was ragged. She couldn't stop remembering the way that Cloverheart's soggy scruff had almost fallen apart in her jaws on the long trek back to RiverClan camp. The thoughts and feelings assaulting her made her feel sick. "Sorry about that." Perchstar managed to choke out a few words past the tightness in her throat. "I'll be... okay... in a minute. I think." She didn't know whether she would be okay. But at least the storm should pass once her brain finished recycling its old thoughts of blame and guilt. Until then, she kept her face averted, huddling against the side of her own den as pathetically as a scared kit without her mother might. Nothing could be less befitting of a leader.

Cloverheart. Maplespring. Hollyshine. Beetlepaw... Cloverheart....

Perchstar could tell that Poppyshine had said something. She could even feel a warm form pressing into her side, comfortingly, like a mother to a sad kit. Those senses were distant. It was as if they were being experienced from another plane of existence, far away, more a dream than reality. Her reality was the screaming voices inside her head. The corpses that lay in front of her vision. The scruff in her teeth, the cold water across her paws, the breath trapped in her lungs every time she was confronted with a death that she could have-- should have-- prevented. Her heart beat was fast, faster than ever, as if it were trying to make up for every beat missed by the hearts of the dead. Her breaths were quick, wheezing, trying to force air into lungs that wished nothing more desperately than to stop doing so. Her head was going to split apart at the seams if any more grief or anger or self-hatred was pushed into it. For now, all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut, huddle against the wall that she vaguely knew was there, and breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Between each breath, someone whispered through her mouth. She couldn't hear the voice. "Forgive me... forgive me... I'm sorry... forgive me...."

You killed them. You killed her. You killed him. You killed them. They hate you. I hate you. Your fault. Your fault. I hate you.

She didn't know how long it was. A minute? An hour? A year? How long had it been? Too long, too long.

The voices had not ceased, but now, they hissed and murmured instead of screaming into her ringing ears. The images had not stopped, but they were translucent now, enough to see through the veil back into reality. Her heart still beat fast, but now stayed in her chest where it belonged. She could breathe... maybe. One breath. Two breaths. Shaky, but doable. The air stayed in for a moment before immediately escaping her lungs again. A moment would be enough. Her head no longer spun. The worst had passed.

But that meant that now, she had to face what had happened. Perchstar found herself grimacing as she forced her eyes open, turning her head jerkily to the side to see what she thought had happened. Had it happened? Was anything real? Sure enough-- Poppyshine was there. She had seen. It was only because of her dear friend that she had even gotten out of that situation at all. And yet, despite how vulnerable they had always been with each other... the knowledge that Poppyshine had finally seen her at one of her lowest points stung. Somehow, it hurt. Every other time, except once with Ashflight, she had managed to keep the sudden attacks secret. In the quiet of the forest, or the dark of night in the corner of the warriors' den, she had ridden them out on her own. No one else had known. But now... the deputy knew how unfit she really was. It made her want to curl back up and fall through the floor of her den and sink into the sand and never resurface. But she was a leader, not a scared kit. She'd been pathetic enough for one day. So slowly, painfully, Perchstar of RiverClan forced her trembling legs-- one, two, three, four-- to stand. For a moment, she simply stood. Her legs bore her weight. They trembled, but they bore it. Good. If she could stand... then she could go from there.

Stars, where do I go from here?

Perchstar let out a trembling breath. She could no longer look at Poppyshine. Her eyes were fixed on the distant wall, wishing that it wasn't there. Wishing she wasn't there. "Sorry," she whispered once more, her voice hoarse from clenching her vocal cords so tightly to keep the screams from emerging. "I... just..." How to explain it? What was there to explain? There was no excuse. She was simply pitiful. "It... happens sometimes," she said pathetically. "Usually I can deal with it. But for this to happen in the middle of camp... stars, I...." She gritted her teeth, wishing they would snap together and force her to never speak again. There was nothing to explain. "Everything is dark. The memories come back, and everything is my fault. I see her. I see them dead." She dug her claws into the sand for a moment, before quickly retracting them. The last thing she wanted was her claws unsheathed. She had done enough. "It's all my fault. Every last one of them. If I didn't... if I wasn't such a failure, I... they.... Stars, it's all a mess. I'm a mess. I should be better by now. Why do I do this to myself?" Why was she saying anything? Why was she like this? Why couldn't she just own up to what she had done, say it was fine, and move on? What was it about her that always left her weak in moments like this? Where was the neutral mask that had kept her so safe from this vulnerability for so long? She didn't know. Maybe it never existed in the first place.

The aftermath of the full-blown panic attack had left Perchstar shaky. Try as she might to hold herself up, her paws were trembling with leftover adrenaline, and her head ached from pent-up emotion. It would probably be better for her to remain sitting until the discomfort passed. However, after nearly breaking down in camp, in front of stars-knew-how-many of her Clanmates... she couldn't bear to lay quivering on the floor in front of her dearest friend. So, she stood, staring emptily at the wall as if it could swallow her up, both wishing Poppyshine would speak and hoping she would say nothing.

Poppyshine, of course, spoke up. It would be unlike the nicest cat in the forest to watch her former mentor and current leader going through such a worrying breakdown and pretend nothing had happened. Her friend's words were soothing, as always... but in her current state of mind, difficult to believe. Their brightness clashed sharply with the accusing whispers that lingered in the back of her head. How could that be true? How could Perchstar not be to blame for the many misfortunes that had befallen her Clan? How could her lapses in adequacy be excused as simple, mortal mistakes? Poppyshine continued, saying that Twistpool was wrong, she did a good job, and the Clan loved her. Though the words were kind, and the intention behind them was wonderful, Perchstar found that the words only tired her out more. Which was true? Which extreme would she fall into? There was no way she could accept all her shortcomings. She had to bite her tongue to swallow her urge to argue. It would be very unkind of her to fight against her friend who had saved her from revealing her fraudulence to her other Clanmates.

As the calm, soothing voice stopped, Perchstar finally looked over at Poppyshine. There was genuine love and concern in her eyes... but that just made it hurt more. Poppyshine had so much faith in her. How could she? How could she, after everything that Perchstar had done? How could she deserve such unconditional devotion? Did the other cats of RiverClan truly feel the same way, after her inability to solve the issue of the predator attacks? After Woolywing was crippled? After Rowanpaw and Stormdance nearly died? She put on a neutral face, but....

Perchstar's eyes were not wet. She was not crying. However, the sweet face of her friend was blurry in her vision. Her face hurt from holding back the tears. "How?" she found herself whispering hoarsely. "After everything.... Softfall, the river, the Dark Forest, Cloverheart, the fox, all of the predators.... Stars, how can you still have faith in me? How can you look at me like that when I have failed so badly, and so often? How can the rest of the Clan truly believe that I am fit to lead?" Her voice trembled. "Leaders are not infallible... but they are supposed to be competent. Successful. They are supposed to protect their Clan. How can I sit here with a straight face and say that I deserve these lives, when so many have fallen due to my failures?"