Unexpected Relations {Closed}

It had been a week since the clan cats had washed up on the lake's west shore, and it had been three days since the appearance of the red stars. Led by StarClan's oh-so-gracious sign, the lost remnant of the five clans had come to camp by the Shore Rock. Named rather appropriately for its placement, the Shore Rock was a smooth, dark mass of stone rising out of the graveled shore. It was around this rock that the clans gathered. RiverClan's makeshift camp was a rushed job. Considering the fact that it had been constructed within two days, it really could not be called a "camp" at all. Rather, it was a shelter of sorts. Constructed with practicality in mind, it really provided nothing more than shade from the sun's rays and a place to sleep. Despite the protests of certain cats, Scorchclaw had insisted on RiverClan sleeping apart from the other clans. While one could claim that they had to work together, boundaries still existed that were not about to be crossed anytime soon. He was willing to tolerate the presence of Thornbriar and ShadowClan, but not anymore than was necessary.

That afternoon, Scorchclaw found a rare opportunity to rest. Having just returned from a patrol, he sat down by the Shore Rock to regain his strength. Prey to be caught, herbs to be found, and land to be explored; the past few days had been filled with so much to do that they had almost felt like being underwater. The drowning swimmer kicked and struggled to get to the surface, while the distorted sunlight making its way into the depths gave everything around him an ethereal glow. His body felt weighted, the ground beneath his paws almost unreal. The responsibility on his shoulders was almost crushing. Wrapped within the midst of these tumultuous times, there was one thing that brought him some relief. Dewshine's kits now had a queen to nurse them. Whether or not the fact was verbally acknowledged, Thornbriar's presence was essential to their survival. Whether by a stroke of fortune or pure coincidence, even by the dictation of the stars above, ShadowClan was willing to nurse the young ones. As much as it troubled him to depend on another clan, the marsh-dwellers had long shared an alliance with RiverClan.

A chill lingered in the breeze, but the sun's rays were surprisingly warm. Leaning against the Shore Rock, Scorchclaw could feel the heat stored up in the great mass seeping through his fur. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the thought of Sunningrocks flashed by. He supposed leaf bare really was drawing to a close. Before long, the young shoots would awaken, pushing through the ground with renewed life. With the revival of the forest, surely the prey would once more abound? Herbs would also be easier to find. He could see them now, when he closed his eyes—the main river, the Beech copse, the Broken Pools. Wandering through those wide, wet plains, he would be accompanied by a familiar, fluffy gray she-cat. How was Adderfeather doing at that moment? His duties as deputy had often kept them from spending time together, but they had never been apart the way they were now. Even in the midst of his busyness, he would often be able to catch a glimpse of her, share a few lines of conversation. He missed her; he wanted her by his side, especially when he was feeling uncertain of what to do. He wanted to see her, to take in her scent again. What was the matter with him? As soon as he was no longer occupied, his mind would begin to drift. Homesickness was rather quick to set in.

So caught up in his thoughts, he missed the soft patter of tiny paws on gravel. At that moment, both Thornbriar and Flurryshine happened to be asleep. The other RiverClan cats, half-keeping an eye on the kits from their own positions, saw no need to alert their deputy.

Dapplekit had woken up just a few minutes before, and her small pink mouth opened wide in a yawn. It wasn't long before she realized that Thornbriar and Flurryshine were asleep, and though she tried to sit still her paws itched to go explore. It didn't take long for the itch to become unbearable, so slowly, carefully, she untangled herself from her siblings and stepped out of the nest, stumbling on the uneven rocks under her paws. Eyes blinking rapidly in the bright sunlight that reflected off the water, the kit looked around quickly, surveying her surroundings while her tail twitched enthusiastically. It wasn't long before her blue eyes, sparkling in the shimmer from the lake, settled on Sorchclaw's pelt where he was leaned up against the Shore Rock.

She crept towards him slowly at first, acting like she was stalking him, before her excitement got the best of her. Before she knew it she was half running, half slipping over the surface of the gravel towards the tom. She almost slid right past him, unable to stop in time, but she fell to her side and rolled a small distance. Popping back up onto her paws quickly, she shook out her pelt and crouched, preparing to leap onto the RiverClan deputies tail. Her hind end wiggled in anticipation before she made her leap, grasping his tail with her white paws and letting out a victorious yowl, which came in the form of a louder than usual squeak. "With a mighty leap, Dapplestar has caught yet another fine piece of fresh kill to take back to camp." She announced, letting go of Scorchclaw's tail and scrambling around to his front, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. "Where were you? I missed you." Dapplekit tilted her head as she looked up at him before stepping forward and sitting next to his leg, straining to sit tall next to him.

Otterkit lay in a half-asleep daze with her brother, shifting slightly to make up for the now vacant room before her heavy eyelids finally opened. Maw stretched open in a wide yawn, she flicked her ear and looked around, wondering where her sister had run off to this time before spotting her fluffy silver coat next to Scorchclaw. Oh, she's fine. Otterkit, tired and a bit irked after being woken up, tried to settle herself down next to her brother, but her curiosity ended up getting the better of her. Tiny white paws clumsily carried the little kitten towards the two other cats, toddling up behind her sister with a mischievous grin; if she couldn't sleep in peace, at least she could get some petty revenge!

"Boo!" she yowled suddenly, nudging Dapplekit with a forepaw. "What'd you wake me up for now?" Giggling, she turned to the large tom perched next to them. "Oh, hi, Scorchclaw!" she chirped, sitting down and rushedly flattening an unruly clump of fur on her shoulder, ear flicking.

At last, the clatter of worn pebbles caught the tom's attention, and his tufted ears pricked. In the next moment, a small gray-and-white form rolled by. Scorchclaw blinked, startled. Under his troubled gaze, the figure swiftly righted itself and shook out its downy fur. Dapplekit—he recognized the young she-cat as one of Dewshine's litter. "What—" He began to inquire. Before he could get the words "are you doing?" out of his mouth, however, she was already lunging forward. Claws sunk into his feathery tail, and a triumphant cry pierced the afternoon air. At least, so things should have been. Owing to Dapplekit's status as a, well, kit, he only felt the slightest prick of her claws through his fur. The triumphant cry, too, was more a squeak than anything else.

"With a mighty leap, Dapplestar has caught yet another fine piece of fresh kill to take back to camp."

Oh. To his own surprise, Scorchclaw found the corners of his maw quirking upwards. Being amused by something so small was unlike him, and at the words of a kit, no less! It might or might not have been common knowledge in RiverClan by now, but the large tabby did not really get along with kits. They were playful and mischievous, prone to misbehaving. Their little bodies held far too much energy than could be easily managed. Put another way, he did not know how to handle them. His serious nature was no help in this aspect. Considering his past experiences with kits, it was almost a wonder that Dewshine's litter had taken a liking to him. Gazing down into Dapplekit's sparkling blue eyes, the fluffy deputy fumbled for an appropriate response. Come to think of it, where is Thornbriar? He cast a quick glance around. The dark-furred ShadowClan warrior was nowhere to be seen, but a couple of his clanmates met his gaze with amusement written over their features. Scorchclaw scowled at them for a brief moment, before he sighed. "Good afternoon, Dapplekit." He meowed, somewhat stiffly.

"... And Otterkit." Scorchclaw added, having held his silence until the latter had successfully carried out her "prank." Now there were two of them before him. The next thing he knew, Rowankit would be popping over as well. "I merely left for a hunting patrol. See those?" With a flick of his feathery tail, he gestured to the dismal looking fresh-kill pile a distance away. Right on top was laid a thrush, its copper-stained wings spread wide. In comparison to most RiverClan cats, the large tabby was actually rather decent when it came to hunting land prey. There were several other pieces of prey, too. While the river had been contaminated with debris soon after flood, the waters had shown some improvement after a week. It was now possible to catch fish. Lowering himself in an attempt to meet their eye level, he continued, "There might not be much, but every cat should be able to get a mouthful. And what have you two been up to? Where are Thornbriar and your brother?" His effort was evidently an awkward one.

As uncomfortable as Scorchclaw currently felt, he was not about to shirk the duty Dewshine had left to him. StarClan had chosen to claim the parents of these kits. Anyone could leave the care of these kits to someone else, but not everyone would choose to undertake the duty themselves. If he, who had been present at Dewshine's death, abandoned them, what kind of warrior would he be? Although he was still unaware at this point, he had subconsciously made the decision to protect them from the day of their birth.

Scorchclaw, who had never even taken a mate himself, was going to fill the role of a parent. If someone had told him of this future before the flood, he would surely have shrugged it off as nothing more than nonsense.

Dapplekit's small ear flicked as she stared back at the deputy, watching his face intently. When he looked away to cast a glance around, she followed his gaze, not sure what exactly he was looking for. It was as she tried to figure that mystery out that Otterkit poked her with a paw and yowled, nearly scaring her out of her pelt. Her paws left the stones, and she scrambled a couple paw steps away before turning around, fur bristling. As she recognized her sister, she relaxed slightly, tail flicking back and forth in embarrassment at being caught of guard. Licking her chest fur to smooth it, she shot a challenging look at her sister, one that held threats of payback at a later time.

When Scorchclaw gestured to the meager fresh kill pile, she craned her neck to look at the bird. Its feathers glistened in the light that streamed through the clouds, and she found herself fascinated by them. Turning back to the deputy, excitement gleamed in her eyes. "I can't wait to catch those too! The feathers are pretty! Does it taste good?" She blinked at him as he lowered himself, and sighed at his next question. "They're taking a nap, but I was bored... I wanted to go explore, and then I saw you come back!" She sat down on the pebbles underneath her, casting a guilty glance to Otterkit before continuing. "I didn't mean to wake anyone else up, I tried to be quiet... I'm sorry..." Her head hung low in disappointment, she hadn't meant to wake anyone else up, and she felt bad for interrupting Otterkit's nap.

Though still a little irritated, Otterkit felt a pang of guilt at Dapplekit's reaction; she had only really been poking fun. "Hey, no biggie!" she joked, poking Dapplekit gently, "I was just playing. Besides, I could barely sleep anyways. Rowankit's snoring sounds like the roars of Lionclan themselves!" She then stumbled a bit closer to where Scorchclaw had been pointing, trying to get a good view, but caught a whiff of the bird before she had a chance to see it. Its scent was funky; she didn't know what to make of it, as she had only smelt fresh-kill a couple of times beforehand. She didn't find herself disliking it, however.
"Why's it so still after Scorchclaw caught it?" she wondered out loud, "Usually those things are chirping and tweeting and hopping around!" It did look nice, though, as Dapplekit had said; its wings were spread as if it were still soaring the sky, chest stuck out, almost pridefully, as a king's would be. Tawny-patterned feathers covered its frame, catching the light of the sun and becoming silhouetted in a vibrant golden hue. She turned back to Scorchclaw and Dapplekit, now a tail-length or so away from them. "How do you catch them, Scorchclaw?" she pondered, head tilting in a cartoon-esque fashion, "And how do you make them stop moving when you hold them down?"

ooc: i haven't posted in this for 10 days im so sorry

It seemed the ShadowClan queen was asleep. Scorchclaw huffed lightly, for he should have known. It was the time of daylight span when most cats tended to doze off. He might have decided to take a nap himself, if not for the fact that he had been having trouble sleeping in recent days. He supposed he might as well keep an eye on Dapplekit and Otterkit now. As expected of the energy kits were known to have, the two had not joined the others in the makeshift dens for long. Settling back on his haunches, he watched their little exchange. To have a sibling—what was it really like? He had been an only kit himself. Despite the many sets of siblings he had seen over his moons, he had never quite managed to grasp the true meaning of their bonds. Perhaps such an inadequacy was to come as no surprise. It was difficult for him to fully understand, when he had never had one.

"If the two of you would like," Scorchclaw began slowly, "you may have the feathers to line your nests. Such a bird is known as a thrush. One day... you will able to catch it yourselves." There were quite a few questions that had been asked, and he pondered over how to answer them. Otterkit's words had revealed one important detail; these kits did not yet understand the phenomenon of death. If they had understood it, perhaps they would have grieved more over the loss of their blood parents. In this sense, was their lack of understanding a blessing or a curse? He probably did not have the right to decide on an answer to that question. "When you become an apprentice, your mentor will teach you the hunting techniques." He informed them, with the twitch of one tufted ear. "As for the thrush, I suppose you could say that it is—" Asleep. He paused, the word wavering on the tip of his tongue.

How long was the truth going to be actively kept from these kits? They would find out anyway, when they had reached a certain age.

"What you see is really nothing more than empty shell." Scorchclaw stated warily. How much of his words would the kits be able to process? "When the thrush was still chirping and flying through the sky, it was just like you and me. It was able to think and feel emotions. That ability to think and feel is known as the consciousness. Consciousness dwells within every living thing, probably even in the plants. But when I caught this thrush, I had no choice but to take that consciousness out. Unable to think or feel, it also became incapable of moving." He could not help but get the feeling that his explanation was helplessly clumsy. With a small sigh, the large tabby continued, "You might not understand what I am saying now. But if you do not forget my words, you will understand them one day. That thrush will never soar the skies again. The loss of consciousness is known as death, and death is something that comes to every creature, even to us cats." When had he himself learned of death? He had forgotten the exact moment now. Perhaps, at one point, the realization had simply dawned upon him. Having been born during the Sunningrocks War, his younger self had not been able to retain such naivety for long.

If he stopped here, it was possible that his explanation would give the kits nightmares. As a result, he was forced to awkwardly go on. "When a warrior meets death, however, their consciousness flies up high to the skies and becomes a star. When night falls, you become able to see them. Every star was once a cat, and the gathering of all those stars is known as StarClan. That is why, even if death separates two cats in the present time, they will not be apart for long."

Dapplepaw giggled as her sister spoke of their brothers snoring, her eyes lighting up again with a smile. "I bet you could hear them all the way over here, if you're quiet enough!" She pretended to strain her ears, acting as though she could hear the noises from where their brother lay next to Thornbriar. She watched as Otterkit stumbled closer to the fresh kill pile, and at her words turned back to gaze at Scorchclaw, waiting for his explanation. It was not long before the explanation came, and she stared at him as her mind tried to grasp what all he spoke of. Hesitating, she turned back towards the thrush, and then back to Scorchclaw, then to her sister. "So, it's empty? There's nothing inside? But there's something inside us?" She blinked, looking back at the thrush intently. As he continued, talking about the stars, she looked up to the sky even though it was day time. After gazing up at the sky for a few heartbeats, she wandered closer to Scorchclaw and settled herself next to his leg. She didn't sit in silence for long before she turned her head to look up at him. "Are the stars there now, too?"

Otterkit was enthralled by this new topic. The sparkly things in the sky were cats? But they were shiny and didn't have ears or tails or even paws! The little kit found herself staring up at the sky, now a pallid blue in appearance, wisps of cloud creeping along, ever so often breaking up the sun's light and casting shadows over the ground. But the shadows would soon disappear, the clouds continuing, lethargically, on their slow journey to wherever they may end up. She could see this, and maybe the occasional bird, but the stars were still hidden away. How could they be there if she couldn't even see them? And, if this 'conshosnis' or whatever he called it was real, did that mean there were stars inside her? But, how would you take stars out of something? This talk was all too confusing for the little kit, and she ended up frustratedly batting the ground, sending up a little puff of dust.
"But that doesn't make any sense!" she whined, "The stars don't look or sound or smell like cats! A-and how would you take the stars out of something if they're inside it?" Frowning, she looked back at the bird. And why didn't he have any stars inside him?

ooc: sorry if the reply seems a bit rushed, schoolwork and all

Scorchclaw twitched his whiskers. As expected, the two kits could not quite understand what he was trying to say. It was his fault, due to the hopelessly clumsy explanation. But he could not, for the life of him, think of a better way to put things. Lifting his head, he surveyed the sky above. It was infinitely wide and vast, the kind of pale blue that tended to stir a sort of loneliness within one. "You cannot see the stars during the day." He began with a thoughtful note, "but it is my belief that they are always looking down on us." The day would come when they would understand death. It always did. "They do not look like cats, Otterkit, because of how high up they are. They can see us perfectly, but we can only see the glitter of their pelts." He was about to continue, but a flash of dark fur at the corner of his vision caught his attention and his facial expression grew stiff. "It seems Thornbriar is looking for the two of you." He meowed lightly, pointing in the direction of the makeshift dens with a flourish of his feathery tail. When they turned to look, the large tabby stood. "Perhaps the two of you could get her to tell you more about StarClan. As for me, I should see what else needs to be done. Let us speak again soon."