Old Face, New Scars [closed]

Arno had been wandering for a few sunrises since his first night in Twolegplace. From short-lived conversations with rough-and-tumble rogues, he discovered two facts. The first was that he was living in what was called the Old Twolegplace, a sort of no-cats-land. The second was that he looked like a monstrosity with his inflamed scars.

His eyes watered with each blink from the pain of agitating his scars. His stomach grumbled from hunger, for he couldn't even hunt the slow rats in the "alleys," as they were called. He couldn't see, his body was both hot and cold, weak and restless. He could tell his fur was matted, but he didn't care to fix it. He wandered for days on paws rubbed raw, seeking out a good place to die. It was his intention to rid the forest of that which StarClan hated. In his melodrama, he had failed to recognize the ridiculous lengths twolegs would go to in order to feed him. His need to eat was greater than his need to die. So, with pitiful mews, he'd wander up to a twoleg's nest and wait for them to emerge from inside. He would gently scoop the scraps they offered him from their hairless paws, and he'd run like nothing else. Soon, the fever was too great to even leave his nest in the alley to find a sympathetic upwalker. He heard the hushed whispers of other cats in the darkness, calling him a wild cat, saying that he was diseased and that he would be gone any day now. It didn't phase him anymore. He shivered through each passing moment, his body failing him.

Something inside him awoke on what he assumed was his last day of life. He was reminded of a reddish pelt as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Whatever it was, he had a feeling he would find an old face in this strange forest of stone. He struggled to his paws and sought out the fat kittypet he once new. Maybe, just maybe, that stranger's housefolk would take him in and safe his life. Death would be mercy, but he didn't exactly want the pain and misery that seemed to come with it. Word around the rogues was that you should never let yourself be caught by a twoleg. If they decided you were unfit to live, being too emaciated or sickly, they could pierce your pelt with a stick that would send you into eternal sleep. If Arno was lucky, that was his fate as well.

Apparently, the wall of logs was called a "fence." Arno found the nearest fence and ran his long tail across it as he hobbled along. As soon as he felt out a gap in the fence, he backpedaled and slowly shoved the front half of his body through it, head ducked low. "Excuse me?" he rasped, feeling as though his mouth were full of sand and grit. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm wounded. I'm looking for somebody. Is there anybody there? Can you help me?"

Colder... colder still. Marmalade sat just outside the strange cold, clear wall of the nest and stared out towards the wooden wall, her dark eyes scanning the shaded parts of the yard where glittering frost hadn't yet been melted by the early morning sun. Since the frosts had come, her thoughts had become more and more occupied with the thoughts of her former home... her Clan. Her friends and kin. The former SkyClan cat thought of just four seasons ago, when she, Leaftwirl, Sunflower, and Swanpaw were all still apprentices together. They'd wondered what leaf-bare would be like, and what newleaf would bring. It seemed like so much time had passed since then - it had. Things had changed beyond recognition or repair, perhaps even beyond comprehension in some ways. This season was nothing like the last time she'd experienced it.

She remembered the bitter cold of living in the forest. She rememembered how snowdrifts liked to form just outside the medicine den, forcing her and Mintwhisker to plow through it to make a path whenever a storm came through. She remembered each morning hoping that a hunting patrol had just returned after a long, wearying night to get something fresh but having to settle instead for gnawing on a half-frozen carcass. She remembered the feelings of devastation whenever any of the herbs in the medicine den withered or froze or fell beyond use; it was impossible to get anything else in leaf-bare. It was always like a ticking clock watching the stores decrease with use and decay while the snows lingered. She remembered numb paws and spiking fur and cracked pads and white-cough and green-cough.

This leaf-bare... Marmalade would be a kittypet, not a Clan cat. The hardships she had once faced - in the comparative luxury as a medicine cat - didn't have to hold bearing on her actions anymore. The golden tabby cat didn't have to set one pale cream paw in the icy grass if she didn't want to, but, oh, how the distant forest padded insistently through her thoughts. Sue and Sharon, her twolegs - or housefolk, as other kittypets around here called them - never forced her to stay inside. If she wanted out, they freed her. Marmalade knew that they had formed some uncommunicated bond or trust. She doubted they understood her need to wait and watch, yet they respected it. It was a good part of why she respected them in return... why she always came back inside. Plus, it wasn't like the forest would have her back.

"Excuse me?" a hoarse, gritty voice asked from a crack in the fence, and immediately Marmalade was on her paws, ears forward and alert. She took in a breath and listened as the stranger - a tom, perhaps, it was hard to tell with the straining voice - callled out and explained their predicament. "I'm wounded." The cat's words made her heart pound. A strange stirring started in her stomach: recognition not yet understood. Gathering her courage, feeling her sense of duty and curiosity override her uncertainty, Marmalade started forward, stepping off the cold hard stone porch upon which she'd sat. The tom's voice was coming from behind a bush - Marmalade had found a good gap there, and anyone else likely could too - and the kittypet moved towards it.

"Hello? I-I'm here, I'm coming to you," Marmalade called to the stranger, quickly closing the gap. "You said you're looking for someone - I don't know everyone but I know a few cats..."

Marmalade rounded the edge of the bush to a sight that caused her to stumble and halt. "Sandblaze!" she suddenly squeaked. For only a second - though it felt like a lifetime - the tabby was dumbstruck - but she rushed to his side, ushering him further into the "safety" and comfort of her yard. "It's me, Amberdawn! Great StarClan, what happened to you?" The SkyClan tom's face was swollen, red, and crusted. Horrendous trenches were gouged into the cream tabby's face, right over his eyes. Stars, somebody tried to blind him! He was visibly pale and weak, and she felt the heat radiating off of him like the hot breeze-maker that the twolegs had in the ground. How long has he been like this?

The sound of the tom's old name made him wince with fear, his paws beginning to tug him backward. Had they found him so easily? Did they think to check Twolegplace? He had no time to waste, he had to find a deathberry bush or something and get it over with. However, as the she-cat approached, he smelled a familiar moss smell underneath the unique smell of kittypet food, crumbly like dirt. He had it once, offered to him by some well-meaning twoleg. He barely tasted it in his dry, unforgiving mouth. He searched for a name in the gentle one's scent. Oh, Amberdawn.

His untorn ear pricked up in surprise. "Amberdawn, you're not dead?" he rasped rather bluntly as he guided her blindly into the clearing. "Something horrible happened. I can't go home. My brothers left. They went to WindClan, probably looking for safety, but I couldn't go with them. They'd find me... They'd kill them, too." As the words came sputtering out of his mouth, he lowered himself to his stomach on the plush grass. And then, he vomited. As the burn seared the back of his throat, he recognized that it was the first time he really felt something in days. The emptiness in him was overwhelming. He killed someone. He ran away. How could he tell her? Heaving with the effort, Arno embraced the retching and spitting that had become his existence. The world seemed to spin around him. He was so thirsty, tired, cold, terrified, angry, mourning, happy? Arno was happy. Amberdawn was alive... and she sure looked ridiculous. Blinking a few times, he could finally make out a blue object around her throat, with a pelt shiny from the delicate care of a twoleg. It was blurry, but obvious. A dangling rock, like Jerry's. He wheezed a laugh. "What did they do to you?"

Marmalade was certain that her former Clanmate didn't recognize her in his feverish state, if at all. He seemed nervous as she approached and she feared he might try to flee - as was the nature of the forest cats in sketchy situations. Thankfully, though, once she said her name and her scent had a moment to pass over the pale tom's tongue, Sandblaze seemed to perk up with surprise. "Amberdawn, you're not dead?" he gasped, and the former medicine cat snorted as she suppressed a small chuckle. "At last check, no, I'm not," she answered him, and in her head she thought, And for now, neither are you! If StarClan didn't bring us together just in time I'm a hedgehog. The pair settled further in the clearing, and the tom answered her question: He couldn't return to SkyClan.

While Sandblaze lowered himself onto the well-manicured lawn, he explained with some vague rambling that his family had scattered after something horrible happened. He suspected they'd gone to WindClan. Marmalade frowned slightly; she wanted to ask more questions and get more answers - the horrible thing that happened surely had to do with his wounds and his fleeing - but the distress and illness caught up with Sandblaze and suddenly he was heaving, retching up next to nothing. Marmalade made a soft squeak and then meowed soothingly, "Oh, Sandblaze - take it easy, friend, no one can reach you here. No one would even think to look. I'll take care of you and then we can get to the bottom of this."

As Marmalade gazed down with concern, the tom looked up with his dazed expression slowly growing a bit more lucid. He examined her, and suddenly he began to make a strange sound. It was hard to tell with the swollenness of his face and the rasping of his breath, but she was fairly certain he was smirking and had begun to laugh. "Uh...?" she questioned, wondering if he was falling to the fever dreams, but his next words made her laugh at the same time as her eyes rolled with exasperation. "Oh, you're such a forest cat," Marmalade trilled teasingly, and she was surprised to find that there was a moment where she considered defending the object.

Oh. When did I start to take a liking to it? she wondered, but instead she added, "I'll explain it to you in just a moment - you need a drink of water. I'll be right back." Marmalade walked away to find some of the nice plush moss that grew in the yard and promptly dropped it in a water dish to soak. The ginger tabby returned with two drenched wads that she sat carefully in front of Sandblaze.

Arno nestled his head on his paws as Amberdawn went off to fetch him water. It was the first real sense of peace he had felt in a few days. Again, Redwing's crumpled body shoved its way into his eyes. He shoved it back with considerable force, his claws digging the ground with the effort of forgetting. It was behind, when he was a different cat. New name. New face. Old scars.

The moss that she placed before him was delightfully soggy, and with each gentle lick he felt another morsel of strength returning. He craned his neck and shuffled forward, slowly inching back to a sitting position instead of laying disheveled on the ground. He blinked and felt the sting of scabs stretching across his eyelids. Luckily, his blue eyes were untouched by Burningsun's claws. They were the spitting image of his mother's eyes, and his most attractive feature. He took pride in his handsomeness, or what was left of it. Generally, his coat was a lot glossier than the wretched state it was in. Patches on his legs were falling out. He must have looked abominable, marching into his former clanmate's nest.

Finally, he smacked his lips, savoring the drink, and looked up at Amberdawn. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" he whispered. "Delta stayed in ShadowClan, after all the fuss. She's called Cardinalpaw now. Lightfang, Swallowflight... Burningsun... They went to WindClan. I couldn't protect my family. They fell apart because of me. Amberdawn, I killed someone." The ragged tom sighed and let it sink in. He couldn't bear to see her face. He looked at blade of grass. He picked at it.

"It was an accident. ShadowClan's deputy. Thornbriar was going to call for my death. I ran. I couldn't go with my brothers, or she would just take the fight to WindClan. Sandblaze has to die so Arno could live. I'm going by the name my father gave me, and I'm living away from where I can do any more harm. Burningsun aided me... she did this to my eyes. It cut deeper than I expected. Maybe she was angry at me for leaving." Arno took a break to wheeze with the sickness that was violating his frail body. He had no business being alive. "Now, I'm thinking that I should have let her kill me. Is it true that twolegs can make you sleep forever?"

Marmalade was relieved that Sandblaze took quickly to the water, though she said gently, "Easy, Sandblaze, you'll lose it all again if you drink too fast." After a few peaceful moments his drinking slowed, and he sat up. Marmalade watched him carefully, her dark amber eyes full of concern. Already she was thinking of what herbs she might find and use to help him with his wounds. Celandine would be a dream, she thought, but then she noticed his gaze was clear while he gazed at the ground and was relieved. He wasn't blinded yet, but if the infection around his face wasn't treated who knew what might happen? The rest of him looked malnourished and ragged, his usually shining cream pelt now a dull and dusty gray.

The tom-cat finally looked up and met her gaze, and after a few moments of thought he spoke. She nodded at his observations, replying softly, "Nearly three full moons now." He continued. Marmalade was relieved to hear that Cardinalpaw seemed to have found a place that she felt comfortable and accepted. Sandblaze's brothers went to WindClan, as did Burningsun. The mention of the she-cat's name made Marmalade's eyes drop. She felt fresh guilt; the SkyClan medicine cat had abandoned StarClan's chosen judge when Burningsun had most needed support. Amberdawn could never have been the pillar of strength and certainty that Burningsun needed to back her up in the aftermath of the trial, Marmalade tried to reason with herself, but the true fact remained that Burningsun was likely worse off when Amberdawn had left her to their Clan's mercy.

Sandblaze's next words were the most surprising; he had killed someone. Marmalade blinked with surprise and looked up at him. She asked in an unreadable tone, "What happened?" He replied; it was an accident. Marmalade listened to his words with a growing feeling of guilt and sadness and pity in the pit of her stomach. Arno he called himself - the name given by his father. She understood his desire to flee, and even the desire to change his appearance had likely been aided by a collar in Marmalade's case, but Sa--Arno was a forest cat, and a kittypet life wouldn't suit him. Burningsun had wounded him, and he wheezed as he wondered if it had been about more than helping him.

His final question made Marmalade's fur prickle with discomfort. She gritted her teeth slightly, and then she answered, "I've heard that they can, but I'm not going to find out myself, and neither are you." She stood, and she added, "I'm sorry, Arno, but you found me in my own nest. I would sooner sit on the Thunderpath than let the twolegs take you away from me now. You made me promise to look after your mother and brothers if you were scattered, but I've found you instead, and I'm going to help you. Okay?" Her dark amber gaze stared at him hard, but there was a pleading in her gaze as well. This was a chance to try to make something right.

Arno settled his watery eyes on Amberdawn, shuddering a little at her sudden sternness. She was nearly mothering him. Firflower never spoke sharply to him, mostly because she didn't have the ability to. His kithood had a silent teacher, and his apprenticeship as well. Tinystar was always a cat of few words. For the first time, somebody spoke with some authority over him. For a moment, his nose wrinkled up in a sneer of defiance. Of course, his stomach began to churn once more at the same moment, and he groaned in agony as he shut his eyes against the sudden vertigo.

"Fine, fine, fine, do whatever you want!" he whined. He couldn't have thrown a better temper tantrum if he started kicking and crying. "Just don't feed me whatever they're giving you! And I want to sleep in a real nest, in a bush or something."

For the first time, Arno took a real, longing look around this patch of StarClan Amberdawn had found and understood why she had to leave. Some cats weren't cut out for the pressure of the forest, himself included. This place was unlike any forest he had ever been in. Not even the mountain cave where he spent his kithood measured up to the endless rows of rock and wood twoleg nests. At night, he could sit in a tree and peer out across the "forest, watching thousands of stars coming from inside them flicker on. The kits of this strange race were just as loud and dawdling as the those in SkyClan's nursery, and their elders were just as sagging and wrinkled. He was never an observant cat before, but he didn't have many cats to talk to instead. He watched, he listened, and he kept to himself. After all, he was probably a war criminal at this point. Arno was having his first real conversation since he dropped Redwing. What was even more incredible was that Amberdawn seemed genuinely pleased with her new chance at life. Arno would never understand why, but he was in no place to judge. He didn't particularly any part of his life, in whatever form. And yet, here she was, absolutely stubborn about keeping him alive.

"Once a medicine cat, always a medicine cat!" he teased, vocalizing his thoughts. Arno shuffled his body so he could lay in the soft grass, at last relaxing his sore muscles. His tail twitched in contentment.

Marmalade certainly hadn't expected Sandblaze - Arno now - to be happy about her demand to help; she remembered, moons and moons ago, when her name had been Amberpaw, and she'd stumbled upon a rogue who desperately needed healing but loathed the need for such assistance. The rogue didn't know or trust her, but slowly Amberpaw had gained the she-cat's confidence enough to treat her badly abscessed wounds. The she-cat was well enough again to carry on to the Twolegplace before the sun had moved a paw-step in the sky. It wasn't the same, really, but the thought came to Marmalade nonetheless as her injured companion glowered up at her for a moment. Before the golden tabby could even think, He's going to say no, suddenly the tom was overcome with a look of nausea and he shut his eyes, submitting begrudgingly.

The she-cat felt herself relax slightly even despite Arno's grumblings afterward. She listened patiently to his "demands" and nodded patiently. "You are wild through and through, Arno," Marmalade told him pleasantly. "I can't imagine my food would agree with you anyways. Granted, I have been told that I don't eat what many kittypets do. The hard pebbles that look like rabbit droppings? The twolegs I live with - well, I don't know what they give me, it's so strange. It's like... um... wet?" She trailed off and stared at Arno blankly for a moment, before vigorously shaking her head. She flushed with embarrassment. "I-I can't describe it, nevermind anyways. I like it well enough, but nothing beats a vole. I just... well, I try to leave the fresh prey to the forest cats."

Her tail gently brushed Arno's shoulder as he gazed around the yard, taking in the surroundings. "There are plenty of good hiding spots in the yard, and for the most part the other kittypets around here don't come around without an invitation. Most of them are friendly with me around here. You should have peace - while you recover from your wounds anyways," Marmalade told the pale tom as he seemed to accept where they were. He teased her then, "Once a medicine cat, always a medicine cat!" The golden tabby chuckled a little. "To some, I suppose," Marmalade answered. She smiled, and then she added, "To others, I'm just a kittypet named Marmalade who came from the forest." Her dark amber eyes landed on Arno's contented face.

"But... yes. I am a medicine cat, through and through. That said, I know where I can get some things to help your wounds. Sit tight; I'll get you something to eat." Marmalade reached her muzzle down to touch it gingerly to Arno's ear, and even though she and the tom had never been close friends, she felt a flood of relief to be making contact with a SkyClan cat again. They knew each other in a way that the kittypets couldn't know her. With a smile, she turned and sprang up the fence, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be right back. Please make yourself comfortable here." She dropped down to the next yard to begin her hunt for herbs that would help heal his wounds: remove the infection, reduce the swelling, break the fever, and heal them so Arno would be okay.

She prayed it was still possible for him.