What A Rogue and Peasant Slave Am I! [closed]

Ferretnose's paws pressed up from the sodden dirt with as much fervor as when falling, embellishing the ground with her prints. The stroll she took was one of brief repose. Finally, rain was returning to the forest in bits and pieces, smatterings of clouds dotting cerulean skies, and the harsh days of drought were coming, slowly, to an end. There was no real objective to her walk. She had no responsibilities for the day, not of hunting nor of borders. She did, however, observe with ardent curiosity the growing shores of the river. It was good news for RiverClan, and regardless of its meaning to ThunderClan, it was still exciting to observe the ebb and flow, push and pull, of the world as it spun around them. In any case, Beecloud would be pleased to hear about the river. Apparently, he was making a habit of literally dipping his toes in, no matter how she chastised him.

The senior warrior carried with her quite a bit of bias. She was horrified of water. Even now, the sight of the river nearly lapping at her heels made her legs vibrate and go numb. Every crack of thunder made her feel as though suffocating, and she shuddered at the slow dripping of rain in a leaky ceiling. Ferretnose often took refuge in the elders' den, where she could curl into Harefoot, holding back little cries of fear as she remembered the flood. She was one of the keepers of those memories. Batbite, Harefoot, Dustcloud, Oakheart, Mossbloom... few others were old enough to remember the day that half of their population was taken, and the clans were scattered on opposite sides of destiny. Her determination to join the elders was given new strength during the rain last evening. If she would not pass on the story, who would?

Maybe that was what drew her out, by herself, to the riverside. She would spend a few more moons as a warrior before retiring gracefully at her mate's side. This would be one of her last moments of peace and solitude as a warrior. Hard-working cats such as herself did not usually get many opportunities for leisure. She paused for a moment, sitting down three or four foxlengths from the river, in the cover of the bracken and ferns. She lifted her head to the clouds above. "I miss you," she whispered. "I never thought about death before losing you. I never imagined it... not in the water, not in the mountains. Not in the harshest winter, not the cruelest battle. I was just a warrior, fighting until I couldn't, and then it was over. When we lost you... me and Harefoot... I became mortal. I don't know whether or not to fear it. Not for myself, but for our clan. Grief is... it's an evil burden. I couldn't put that on them. Was it hard, to let go?"

She was halted in her musings to her deceased mate by an unfamiliar scent. The terrible omen it brought to her nostrils did not register in her mind, not for a few moments after it crossed her. Yet, the physiological response was immediate: her heart burst from her chest as she hissed, rising to her paws. Only after a moment of dread did she realize the name that she had scrambled to associate with such an eerie scent. She relaxed her shoulders, mouth hanging agape. Ferretnose grappled with the blending and muddling of strange emotions. "Rainstrike," she said, tactfully. "Come out. We don't have to play this silly game with each other. We are two grown she-cats. We can talk to each other like civilized creatures."

"Civilized creatures?" Rainstrike's form slid from the foliage slowly, purposefully, and her words had been quiet, holding no hint of aggression or spite. The banished she-cat's heart hammered against her ribs too, but for a different reason... an annoying, infuriating, nonsensical one. Since she'd come across her mentor's scent a little while ago, the urge, the longing, for the maternal comfort that Ferretnose had been for her growing up, had warred within her with the thought of her betrayal that night in ThunderClan.

Perhaps it was because of Rainstrike's current state of mind, the whirlwind of emotions that her swelling belly forced upon her, but for a moment, hearing the old she-cat say her name made her want to beg for forgiveness, to lean into her scarred pelt and seek comfort there, as she had so many times before.

She shut that down quickly enough, swallowing past the lump in her throat with an annoyed flick of her ears. She stayed well enough away from the ThunderClanner that she could prepare herself for an attack - Rainstrike knew what Ferretnose was capable of, despite her age.

Her eyes moved past her, to the river that was growing with every passing day. She also knew that above else, her ex mentor feared the water. She sighed, shoulders drooping ever so slightly as she sat down, tail curled around her paws. "Don't you think we're past that, by now?"

Ferretnose began to sidestep, protecting her blind side as she began to circle around, matching Rainstrike's movements heartbeat-for-heartbeat. She lacked the precise language to explain what feeling was bubbling up in her. If she could, she might have likened it to a nightmare in which she cradled her infant daughter, only to discover that she was rasping her tongue over a scaly rattlesnake. Her darkest fears had blended into reality, and now, both she-cats stood at the site of Rainstrike's first crime.

The warrior followed Rainstrike to sit, the slightest hitch of hesitation preventing her from hitting the ground at the same moment. Exile had been unusually kind to her, Ferretnose remarked, by her rounded abdomen. "The shores of the river are not neutral," she chastised. "You're not supposed to be here. If there were anyone else on this patrol, you'd already be gone."

Her eyes glinted with something resembling love. "I guess StarClan's looking after you, after all. They can't expect me to attack my apprentice. I won't. If you want, I'll walk you out. I'll even show you the way to a safe place. But you can't stay here, Rainstrike. Why did you come back?"

The scarred rogue lifted one shoulder in a shrug, still staring past Ferretnose, rather than at her. Her claws slid into the dirt, and then retracted again, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth the only indication that she was anything other than calm and collected. Internally, though, she was the furthest from it... and truth be told, Rainstrike was unsure how to proceed. "Borders mean nothing to me," she said quietly. "I believe I've proven my ability to defend myself... StarClan isn't and never has been the reason for that." There was no sort of threat in her words - only... resignation... and, finally, her gaze slid to survey Ferretnose.

"ThunderClan is the only home I've ever known. I did everything I could to guide it, protect it," the pointed tabby shook her head, lifting a hind foot to scratch at an inch behind her ear. "In the end, it wasn't enough. But I tried. I did."

She slid down into a lay, forelegs stretched out in front of her, and shifted to her side when her belly protested the position. It was an an action her instincts rejected, but Rainstrike was confident that her former mentor wouldn't attack in cold blood.

"I suppose old habits just die hard."

Ferretnose hesitated for a few moments before her back legs began to slide, whisker by whisker, down to the ground. She sat with her tail tucked nearly over her front paws and turned her head to watch Rainstrike more closely. She felt the tension in her face as a perpetual furrowing of her brow found its place there. It was a sorry sight. It sickened Ferretnose to think that her own clanmate, quite nearly her own kin, could be living in such bitter conditions. For a moment, she felt a spark of nettled spite burn in her belly that she had let Beecloud manipulate her feelings. The spark was soon a dying ember. Whether she wanted to accept it or not...

"You tried to take Oakstar down with you," she murmured, finishing her wandering thought aloud. "Why would you walk that honorless path? Why not talk to anyone? Why not talk to me, Rainstrike? All that pain and misery... that fury... it was temporary. We could have helped you. We would have."

The senior warrior's ears twisted backward as she attempted to soothe herself. Tears weren't becoming of this situation, and she would not grovel at the paws of her student in such a pitiful way. "You made it impossible to turn back. You wanted to send a message. You wanted to protect ThunderClan. You turned the entire camp upside-down. Are you satisfied with that?"

Before she could stop, self-sleepy, and regulate the aching of her weary heart, it was spilling out of her. Her tail moved from its place at her front paws, and it twisted and wove and bent behind her like a snake. And yet, behind it all, there was the sagging of her shoulders and the deep lines of a sorrow-brimmed frown. "I thought I had taught you better. I thought I had taught you that, without our ways, our Code, our Clan, and our leader, we are no better than wild dogs chasing our own tails. But, after it all, Rainstrike, I still believe that the ancestors walk with you."

She listened to her former mentor's speech, a distant sort of coldness about her expression. Most of the time, she stared past Ferretnose, to the water, and her paws kneaded the dirt, claws raking small furrows into the ground. The rogue she-cat grew more and more irritated with every word spoken, until finally when Ferretnose mentioned their ancestors, she snarled, head snapping to the older she-cat with teeth bared and bristling hackles.

"Don't... don't say that. Stop saying that!" Rainstrike's voice was suddenly harsh and demanding, a swift change from how calm she'd been a half second earlier. She pinned her ears, staring at Ferretnose with a manic fire in her eye. "I don't... don't want them watching me. Worthless. They're worthless." She got to her feet, wildly shaking her head back and forth. "Worthless, worthless, worthless."

Rainstrike took a step towards Ferretnose, and then veered to the side, stepping closer to the river with her eye squeezed shut, still muttering agitatedly under her breath. Her paws touched the sandy soil at the river's edge and she stopped, head hanging low, breathing erratically. "Oakstar is the reason that ThunderClan was suffering," she panted. "I though that... that if he was gone, if he wasn't leader, that StarClan would forgive us, but they didn't. They never had any intention to." Rainstrike twisted around to stare at her former mentor. She had heard the pain in Ferretnose's voice, how far away from anger the older she-cat seemed to tread. "You taught me everything," she whimpered, "and it still wasn't enough to save him from what they did."

She saw it clearly now, as clear as the day it happened... that badger, starry-pelted and shimmering, descending from Silverpelt itself, sinking teeth into Mistwalker's flesh as he fought it off to protect her. StarClan had murdered her father, she'd seen them do it. Mistwalker had been larger than life, he'd been strong, and capable, and brave. No normal badger could have killed him. "STARCLAN killed him, because of Oakstar, because of Oakstar... because of..." She sank back down on to her belly, forepaws over her ears. She heard their voices in her head now, the Righteous Few, promises made and broken, threats kept and unkept alike. They were all in her head now, all of them speaking, warning her. Bad, she's bad, she's bad. She'll hurt you again like the rest.

"I tried. I tried, I tried, I tried." Her tail thrashed, and she tightened the grip on her head, claws sliding out to prick her own flesh just light enough as not to draw blood. "Even after you all cast me aside, I came back, to fight those dogs. I could have stayed away, I wanted to, but I CAME BACK and I lost everything, my face, I-"

In an instant, Rainstrike was on her paws again, pacing, swaying back and forth. There was a twinge in her rounded belly, a protest against her sudden activity, but she ignored it, stalking forward until Ferretnose was between her and the river.

Bad, she's bad. She betrayed you. She'll do it again.

Tears glistened in Rainstrike's eye, and she swallowed past a lump in her throat. She shook her head again, but the voices continued. Bad, bad, bad. You're bad, she's bad. "I could have been good, again."

She raised her gaze to Ferretnose's, "You gave up on me." She whispered. And then, without warning, without even the slightest hint of what she was about to do, Rainstrike surged forward. In a torrent of motion, she slammed into Ferretnose, the momentum carrying them both towards the river.

The warrior shuddered as Rainstrike bristled, blooming to what must've been twice her size. Ferretnose's mouth was wired shut, clamped in a vice of anxiety as her apprentice began to raise her voice. She was on her paws in an instant, no longer comfortable to lounge in such a compromising position. Danger, danger, danger, her instincts repeated, the hazy scent of rogue filling her lungs as her tail bristled in return. Rainstrike was enveloped in Ferretnose's mental fog now, the foxlike aspects of her predatory glare muddling the face of the little kit that once was.

As Rainstrike sidestepped, the brown tabby swung around, the end of a hiss escaping from her lips. She twisted, backing up as she struggled to reconcile the conflict in her heart. There was a rogue gaining on her, but she was a clanmate, a friend... oh, the folly of a sentimental mentor. Ferretnose's paws itched to reach out and cradle her student's cheek.

The situation was no longer viable; she knew that she had to make a decision to protect herself and her territory.

But how could she?

The assault upon Oakstar, she could stomach. It was all what she already knew. Rainstrike's feelings toward her leader were a harsh, grating on old, stubborn ears, but Ferretnose listened carefully. Though she was maintaining critical distance, she imagined that she might try and extend an invisible branch to Rainstrike, so that they could both grab hold. There was still hope for her. There had to be. If there was no hope, then there would be a fierce altercation, and Ferretnose could not possibly be expected to drive out her own apprentice. If they could settle things, there was still hope...

But Rainstrike's next words were too jarring. "N-no!" Ferretnose gasped, affronted by the accusation that StarClan could be responsible for Mistwalker's death. "That was an accident, you know that! Your father walks with the ancestors, please, Rain, listen to me, this is foolish!"

No amount of babbling would reach the rogue. Unstoppable, thick bands of tears tinted Ferretnose's cheeks. She dug her claws into the ground, resisting every single instinctual urge to help, to warm, to comfort, to speak. Her nature worked against her as two great beasts battled for control in her chest. She was a ThunderClanner first. The clan needed her strength. Hold your ground, fool! Her throat began to close up. There was no more hope in her heart. Rainstrike's head began to bleed with the strength of her own claws; she was inconsolable. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Protect the borders.

Ferretnose sniffed hard, drawing up her tears back into her body, hardening her thick muscles as she met Rainstrike in the middle. LionClan's bravest warrior had taken possession of her skin as she pressed on, claws extended as she stirred her soul for what she was required to do. But something stopped her approach, halting her and catching her breath in her throat. The smell of milk and the slow movement of Rainstrike's engorged belly were unmistakeable. Eyes like saucers, Ferretnose's legs fell to jelly. "You're..."

"You gave up on me."

A pair of legs slammed into her chest and she began to roll. She fruitlessly gripped sand, screaming in terror as she was dragged along, leaving deep claw marks in the mud, muck covering her fur. "RAINSTRIKE, N-!"

Her mouth filled with water as she broke the surface, bubbled foaming and popping around her fur as the shock of the searing cold water settled on her flesh. The current pulled her towards the center of the river.

---

The apprentice den was dark and wet. The water came up her belly, and she felt the twigs and stones slap her ankles as she clawed against the sides of the gorse. She sucked in air like there was a finite amount in the forest.

They heard the roar before they saw the water approach. She saw the glint of Pricklebush's panicked eyes as he ascended the tree. Water roared like LionClan. It pounded in her ears as it came upon them. It licked her tail as she grabbed the base of the oak tree. She cried out as she climbed. "We're going to make it, Ferretpaw," Lynxtail promised, just before the water took him. He kicked and yelled as it dragged him, far, far away he drifted, unable to escape the current. Bluepaw screamed in agony as she died. Ferretpaw wailed, the rain drumming her fur, her clan torn to pieces, the sound of death stifling her soul. ThunderClan, drowning.

---

I'm drowning, she realized, the roaring of rushing water in her ears. I'm drowning. I'm going to die.

She felt a set of claws still holding her. She kicked back behind her until she felt her claws sink into Rainstrike's face, releasing her from her opponent's grip. Once Rainstrike was off, Ferretnose began to thrash, as if a measly rat in the grip of a snake. She struggled in the water, paddling where she thought the surface might be. The blinding light of the sun rippled above her. She followed it, one paw breaking the surface. Ferretnose extended her claws and sliced the air, as if she could grab the surface of the water like the trunk of a tree. There was no friction, no grip, to hold her head above the water. In a stroke of luck, her thrashing had allowed her one simple moment of breath as her face broke the surface.

"HELP!" she sobbed. "SOMEONE, HELP ME!"

Ferretnose sank below the waves, bobbing precariously as the rushing of water filled her drumming ears. She was panicking now, having not taken a large enough breath before she was surrendered again to the eerie silence of the river. The realization that she was sinking made her struggle harder, pulling her down, down, down.

Her lungs gave out. Ferretnose inhaled water. Her body burned, good eye fuzzing and darkening around the edges. She felt as though she was being strangled. Her screams were garbled and bubbled up in front of her.

Thrashing turned to fidgeting. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think anymore. Without air, she began to forget where she was.

Rainstrike was long gone by now. Ferretnose was sure of it. No one would come to help her. No one could hear her cries.

This was it. It had to be. She thought of Harefoot, and prayed for him.

It had been purely accidental. Rainstrike hadn't planned for them to go into the water, and as the two of them plunged into the river, she was shocked back to her senses by the cold. Instinctively, she gripped with her claws, the moment of clarity forcing her to understand what she'd just done - she knew Ferretnose couldn't swim, if she let go, her mentor would die.

Claws slashed across her face, making the decision for her. Rainstrike snarled, losing her grip on the ThunderClan queen and reeling backwards, towards the shore where her paws still touched the sand. In the blink of an eye, Ferretnose was gone, dragged under by the current, and Rainstrike stared after her, some amalgamation of horror and victory coursing through her veins. She'd done it. She'd killed her mentor.

She betrayed you. She deserved it. The voice in her head was her own, this time, and Rainstrike found that she wasn't entirely convinced of what it was saying. The clearing beside the river was suddenly very quiet. Rainstrike shivered in the night air. The current dragged at her paws, beckoning, come, come, but that was a voice she ignored, and with her brow knitted in concern, the rogue pulled herself from the river, shaking the water from her fur until it spiked in every direction. She sat with her back to the water, smoothing her pelt with a few short strokes of her tongue.

She'd killed Ferretnose. Now she needed a nap.

When the last of the screaming, hissing, splashing, and thumping had ceased to echo in his ears, the little tom slid into the water.

ThunderClan cats had a curious way of swimming. He thought, perhaps, they all swam differently. RiverClan cats swam like the river, with long and spiraling movements, their tails acting as rudders. WindClan, in that case, must swim in quick, snapping, daggerlike bursts. ThunderClan cats swam like the tabby in the water, with great thundering splashes and wide paws propelling them strongly forward. Of course, this cat was not good at it. She was sinking like a stone.

Floating down to the bottom of the river, Loonpaw turned around the she-cat, prodding her thick-muscled shoulder very gingerly. She did not open her eyes, nor flinch. She drifted like a piece of wood among the curious crawfish and turtles that uneasily gazed up at her limp body. Loonpaw was odd, but he was no fool, and he had seen death. He was aware of the risks of drowning. He didn't mind it, but it seemed that many cats found it overbearing. That must have been why she thrashed so as she sank beneath the waves. She was a very frightened old queen.

She seemed a nice enough cat. She tried very hard to talk nicely before. Loonpaw swept underneath her broad chest and began to swim with Ferretnose in tow.

---

Please.

I'll go peacefully, but please let me go.

Don't drag it out like this.

Just tell me whether to stay or go.

"You're going to be sick," said a drifty, melancholy voice from far above her head. "You ought to turn your head."

He was right. Ferretnose's eyes shot open as her stomach gurgled around her, and she wretched into the grass beside her. It was all water. She heaved and spat up water, coughing and sputtering like a faulty beaver dam. Her fur fluffed up around her as she tried in vain to shield herself from the cold. She was not meant to be in the water. Not now, not ever. Still a bit seasick, the warrior held herself up by her forepaws and gripped the ground with desperation... oh, how sweet did solid ground feel. "I'm..." she whispered. She cleared her throat again and again, until the clarity of her voice was satisfactory. "I'm an IDIOT!"

"No, no. Just a poor swimmer. You're only half-drowned. If you were all-the-way drowned, I would have fetched Ivystar."

Ferretnose jolted. She had not realized her savior was a mortal cat and not some agent of StarClan. She swiveled around, eyes wet from more than river water, to meet her little rescuer. She was instantly charmed. He was only a little fellow, with wispy black-and-white fur and owllike eyes, no older than ten moons. Ashamed of herself, Ferretnose looked away and wept. "She got away?"

"Yes. She went away. I didn't see where... I wanted to watch you swim first."

"What's your name?"

"Loonpaw. Hoo-hoo."

"I want to go home. Daisybloom can tend to me... Nettlestar needs to know what Rainstrike... or, rather, Rain... has done."

"I will come with you, because you're still quarter-drowned. When you're no-drowned, I'll go home."

"Thank you, Loonpaw. Nettlestar will thank you kindly, too. You'll have to tell him what you saw. My name is Ferretnose."

"Hello, Ferretnose. Hoo-hoo. I'm sorry that StarClan didn't help you, like you asked. Was I enough to get by?"

"Very much."