The Ground Bares Teeth [closed for lemon]

ooc: takes place the morning after September's MC Meeting.

Aspenheart spoke to nobody as he stumbled into camp, looking quite crazed. His fur stuck up at all corners on his willowy frame, and his eyes shifted with a desperation unheard of. He caught the familiar ginger-and-white pelt nearby with a start and meowed for his attention. When his eyes finally locked with Finchstar's, he spoke in a breathless whisper: "Your den, now!"

They were not two paces into the den when Aspenheart collapsed to catch his breath. His herb stained paws swayed in his vision, spinning around across his sight. He felt immediately sick and fought the urge to wretch all over the leader's fortress of solitude. The things he had seen the night prior were more than unsettling. They were simply unspeakable. He could still feel the blood on his muzzle and hear the ringing in his ears. When he had finally caught his breath, and all that remained was the terrible twist in his gut, he finally sought out his leader's eyes.

"If it weren't so pressing, so violent, I would have waited for Raventail and Barleytuft so we could have a proper council. But the last thing we need is for everybody to panic!" Aspenheart struggled to sit up, clearing his throat. Bad news was not his specialty. There was no jest and no mockery here. He hoped Finchstar could see the sincerity that, for once, swallowed the younger tom whole. "Puddlepaw's dea- her unfortunate passing was not an isolated incident. It's going to happen again. It's not going to be pretty." Aspenheart's laughter came with a warble. He didn't mean for it to happen. The mere anxiety of it all forced the sound out of him. He continued, trembling: "Nightrunner was his name. An ancient StarClan cat. He was my spirit guide in the art of tunneling. He believed that if he could teach some sensible cats how to do it right, he could avoid the inevitable. But the inevitable... couldn't be stopped. It's caught up to us. There will be more foxes... badgers... dogs..."

Aspenheart stood and began to pace. "They found the tunnels. We've underestimated their intelligence. We need a plan. This could... Well, I don't know! There's at least a clan's worth of them! And StarClan told me they're powerless to stop it!" He approached his friend with more haste, their noses a whisker apart. "If I have to see another clanmate made into mousemeat, I'm going to lose my mind!"

The dawn that crested the hills did not sing the peaceful song of morning. Finchstar stood in the sand and watched for a long passing moment, tail flicking from side to side as he contemplated the live that had been lost. WindClan had found its peace, and yet the trail to Aspenheart's den remained stained with crimson. Barleytuft and his patrol had returned, bloody and broken, bearing new scars. Finchstar remembered running to their side, bombarding their shredded pelts with questions as the scent of blood misted into the air. But it had been more than a fox. A badger this time. It was unheard of to see such beasts working together, but the leader wished to attribute that to his youth. No, he wasn't as young as he once was, but he hadn't witnessed all that he'd like to. Perhaps a more traveled cat could speak on such things. It seemed fitting that he should find Zinnia a few days after the attack, talking witty words to her sly form in that field of flowers. Death didn't freeze his conscious and yet it was enough to send a claw of adrenaline up his spine everytime an apprentice opted to leave camp. He even considered sending a warrior to escort Aspenheart to the medicine cat meeting. Finchstar did not enjoy the fear that now seemed to encapsulate the moor, however he blinked to the sun and knew they'd conquer this as well. His optimism knew no bounds.

And yet the leader's train of thought was interrupted as Aspenheart more or less barreled into him, gallivanting over to Finchstar's den behind the Tallrock, breathing heavy. Finchstar had known his friend for ages, and often would sit and smile as he went on long vents of the happenings in the world. Aspenheart had a habit of rambling, not that the tom minded. He would often pick apart shreds of the conversation, piecing them back together in a somewhat coherent fashion, chuckling as his former apprentice explained the situation more slowly. However this time, there was no room for laughter. The fear that laced the medicine cat's pelt was real, enough to send an icicle into Finchstar's heart. "Aspenheart." The leader mewed, yellow eyes creased in confusion. The gray tabby continued to speak, voice raised into ironic giggling. He pressed his face close to Finchstar's, blue eyes wide in terror. "Aspenheart!" Finchstar spoke again, hoping to snap his friend from the trance. "Take a seat, friend. Let me fetch you some water, breathe." He stared into his good friend's eyes and was taken aback by the sheer terror that resided there. Perhaps the medicine cat wasn't overreacting after all. Finchstar gulped and sat down on the ryegrass, tail flicking with suspense. Whatever the tom had seen at the Moonstone, it was large. He wondered if it would be worse than the flood, than the ground that swallowed up his love. "Now tell me, what did you see? What has your fur on end?"

"I, I, I," Aspenheart stammered, half in anxiety and half in disbelief of what he had seen. Where to begin? With a huge gulp, as if he were trying to swallow up the terror, he plopped down beside his friend and stared at his forepaws in the dirt.

"My spirit guide - stay with me here, it's relevant - was an ancient WindClanner. He was the same cat who gave me the knowledge of the tunnels. I think, and this is just a theory, that they knew this was coming and wanted to stop it by teaching us how to navigate them safely. But it didn't work. It was the... ineffable plan." With eyes wrenched tight, he tried to recall the omen that nearly sent him to his grave. He wished that StarClan had told them from the start that this was in the cards. Now, a clanmate was dead. Another was injured. Their lives were at stake, and all they could do was hold out. Why must he be the one to deliver the news?

"He and I were in the tunnels. The walls practically yowled. The floor gave out from under us, and when we hit the bottom, the lower shaft, there was all this horrible yipping. And barking. You know I can't do dogs. And he gave me a message as they closed in on either side." Aspenheart resisted the urge to bury his head in his paws, but instead allowed his ears to naturally press against his skull.

"The earth bares teeth and tears some skin. WindClan, you've been cornered. What happens next is out of our paws."

There was nothing more to say. He let Finchstar fill in the dots for himself, and closed his mouth in anticipation.

Finchstar's heart quickened as he listened to Aspenheart's words, feeling a cold icicle lodge itself into his heart. "Perhaps we are in more danger then expected..." The leader spoke quietly, voice muted as the gravity of the situation became clear. He meant Aspenheart's eyes warily, hurting for the tom that had seen the darkness to come first hand. Finchstar knew he'd never be able to heal or read prophecies as Aspenheart did, it took a special kind of soul. One that was strong and determined. Perhaps dreams haunted him at night as they did Finchstar. Memories of Puddlepaw's battered body swam in his head each time he closed his eyes. It was a fate he wouldn't wish on any cat. "The visions, do they bother you? If this truly is what will become of WindClan, then we will rage against it, friend. You do not care for dogs, so I will remove them from this land, and any other beast that threatens these cats here." He reached forward and placed a shaky paw on top of Aspenheart's, fear crawling up his bones. The wind had become colder, and blood flowed freely. And yet they had survived the flood, the mountains as well. These beasts would not end them.

"How are the wounded? Sandpaw, Barleytuft, Elmskip, and Grousefrost? Are they alright? If fate is what you say it is, then we must prepare for war. We are named for it, trained for it, and our livelyhood will not be shattered. Peace is coming, Aspenheart. If our fate is out of our paws then we'll use our teeth instead" The tom's words were brave but his voice revealed his fear. Tone wavering and paws shaking, Finchstar hated the doubt in his mind and winced as reality threatened to overcome him. However he would search for the wind, and ride the breeze as it came. Soon, soon he'd gather WindClan together and they'd sharpen their claws in the name of better days. Finchstar swallowed and meant Aspenheart's eyes once more, trying with all his might to find a light in the darkness. "Tell me, in all your wisdom friend, what is your advice?"