A Beast Am I [Plot/Closed]

The sun was nearly set for the evening as Smokefeather curled around her kits in the nursery. Their pelts were mostly solid silver even now, but their eyes had just begun the slow turn from kit-blue to their true colors, and the silver fur at their paws and noses was starting to slowly give way to the vague impression of different pelts. Healthy, but that didn't stop the queen from worrying over the kits.

How could she not, when their father was still missing, Smokefeather's last sight of him being bloody and unconscious, as Asylum dragged him from camp? 'For his own good,' said they. Foxdung, thought Smokefeather. 'Saving' him after the mass of rogues had been so happy to rip him to shreds. All because Bloodstrike had tried to resist their hostile takeover in the only way that was natural to do such. Dawnhawk had said it himself, 'I will not let you make a martyr of him.' He hadn’t called off his attack dogs out of the goodness of his heart. Smokefeather wasn’t even sure that the cat that had been her son was capable of such, anymore.

How could she not worry, when rogues stalked the edges of camp, watching every pawstep, listening to every word, all-too-ready to punish those who stepped out of line? And what a thin, hazy line it was, for them to attack those who would never have considered starting a fight. One of theirs had attacked Copperfox for nothing. Dawnhawk had put on a show of tracking that particular rogue down and punishing her in kind. That mange-ridden fleabag could've kept her claws off of Copperfox in the first place. That she hadn't was just one more proof that their claims to want 'peace' was a lie, as far as Smokefeather was concerned.

As for Dawnhawk, he'd had his chance. He was quick with honeyed words, and all those words had done was fan the fire. He said one thing, the actions of his rogues showed another. Wolfstar had rewarded his disloyalty with a change of rank. Named him deputy. As if what Dawnhawk had allowed to happen to the last one wasn't bad enough. As if him joining a group of rogues and betraying the clan meant nothing.

The air outside the den was bitterly cold, and even curled in her nest, Smokefeather shivered slightly despite her long, thick fur. Snow had begun to fall outside the den, and Smokefeather shifted slightly in an effort to keep the kits at her side warmer. They shifted closer with sleep-ridden purrs, and Smokefeather wished that she could so easily fall asleep.

Naturally, the soft crunch of paws on snow broke the relative quiet. Smokefeather would've ignored it had a shadow not fallen across the entrance of the nursery. Gray-green eyes narrowed as they eyed the nursery entrance. Most of the clan had already retired to their nests for the night. Beechface was still tending to Copperfox, while Blossomstep and Primroselight had left a while ago. Adderflare was around, of course, but her presence was one that Smokefeather tolerated. Friends they weren't, but the quiet she-cat was a clanmate.

The tom that poked his head into the nursery was very much not a clanmate, and hadn't been for some time. He'd been named deputy, but he'd long since lost any respect Smokefeather might've held. Blood relation or not, he'd shown time and time again that he didn't care about family any more than Beechface cared about pretending to be civil.

Smokefeather had been purposely avoiding Dawnhawk since Asylum had taken over. If they’d been in the middle of camp, she would’ve turned away from him, but he’d caught her in her nest. No way for her to slip away unnoticed. She had nothing to say to him, nothing that she wouldn’t regret saying, anyways. The pale tortoiseshell remained quiet, though she tensed slightly, protectiveness over the kits at her side making her eye Dawnhawk and the ever-present guard standing behind him with distrust and suspicion. Surely he wouldn’t visit his dear mother out of any familial bond after all this time.

Dawnhawk had had his own paws full, with kits of his own on his way and a surprise promotion. He felt as if everything was falling into place. He was getting everything that he deserved. Asylum and Skyclan had relationships better than they were before... and with some effort, Bloodstrike was nearly forgotten about. He'd never be completely forgotten, but it seemed most cats had looked past and moved on from his disappearance. All except Dawnhawk's own family.

The pale tom moved toward the nursery with a guard at his side. The brown tabby. As he neared the entrance, he steeled his nerves and took a breath. He hadn't spoken to his mother in a very long time... and at the time he was grateful for it. Now though... this couldn't be avoided. If he was going to convert anyone else in his family to be on his side, he needed her support.

His eyes landed on the silver kits. Concern and confusion that he kept repressed for moons danced just under the surface of his casual form. They were probably Bloodstrike's... but there was always that chance that they weren't. Despite everything, Dawnhawk still had some sense of loyalty to his father... and he'd be more than furious at the idea of Smokefeather betraying him.

"I... I was planning on talking to you soon, mother." His voice had lost a lot of the edge that it used to have. He had grown comfortable in his new position and the idea of being a father now had caused him to soften his approach. Honeycomb had given him something that Smokefeather hadn't... and that was love. Still, he was willing to let bygones be bygones if this situation went well.

"Those are... Bloodstrike's kits... right?" The words forced their way out of him, which surprised even him that he had decided to ask. That was dumb. This situation was far too delicate for emotions... but he'd already asked. So now he waited.

Smokefeather felt her hackles rise at Dawnhawk's words. He hadn't so much as glanced at his newest siblings in the moons since they'd been born. And he had the gall to question her loyalty to Bloodstrike? And just who would he have thought the father was if not Bloodstrike? That freakishly large Asylum tom that seemed to chase after Skyclan's she-cats like they were pieces of prey? The thought of that was nauseating, truly. He'd had the nerve to flirt as Smokefeather had watched her own mate be ripped to shreds. Smokefeather avoided him like the diseased rat that he was. And even before Asylum, Bloodstrike had been the only one to ever hold her attention in such a way.

"You have no right to speak of loyalty, but since you asked, they are his. If you had bothered to pull your head from your tail sooner, you might have realized that moons ago rather than feel the need to ask a flea-brained question. You're his son as well, though I find myself questioning how a snake such as you came into existence." If he'd come wanting civil conversation, that question had surely not been the way to go about it. "If your birth was an omen of what was to come..." Smokefeather shook her head, jaws clamping shut against her last muttered words. As angry as she was, there were things that were better left unsaid.

"Why are you here, Dawnhawk?" She asked after a moment, sounding more tired than she'd felt in moons. "Haven't you caused this family enough misery?"

The kits had been roused by the sound of voices, squirming towards the newcomers curiously. Smokefeather reached out a forepaw, pulling the pair of she-kits towards herself hastily. She didn't know Dawnhawk's intentions, and she definitely didn't know why he'd feel the need to bring one of his guards to the nursery. Smokefeather did know, however, that her kits needed to be nowhere near the rogues and their ilk.

He'd expected some hostility... but not as much as he got. It surprised him, hurt him even, that his mother reacted and spoke to him in such a way. His ears rotated back as if he were reacting to being physically attacked, but he stiffened up and made no more motion. "You of all cats should..." His voice stopped working... his chest hurt. He had to stop for a moment and think He didn't even know where he had been going with what he was about to say. He took in a breath and tried to just clear his head, but the unexpected verbal strike had left him reeling.

"Don't pretend that you ever loved me and that none of this is your fault." It was about the only retort he could muster. Even as it left his lips it sounded weak to him. As true as they were and as much as he felt it... even now he found it difficult to hurt his mother. He never said it out loud, but he had put her on a pedestal for much of his life and found it incredibly difficult to raise a paw against her.

And she knew it. She reveled in his inability to hurt her when she could so easily hurt him. It was the one shred of power that could be held over him. If he ever found a way to break that tether, Starclan help anyone in Dawnhawk's way.

"I'm here because..." His mind went blank. His mouth opened but no words came out. What was wrong with him?? He flicked his head as if there were fleas biting him. He needed to focus. This was no time to be distracted by the hot metal inside his ribcage threatening to char and devour him.

"Because I... I..." His throat had gone dry. His limbs shuddered. Emotion threatened to consume him and put pressure behind his eyes. How... of all of the cats that hated him and had scorned him wherever he went... it was Smokefeather's opinion that he cared about? How? Maybe it was his only true connection to anything good in this world.... and she only wanted to hurt him with it. Figures.

"Things are going well for the clan. There is food, there less predators... things are better for us." He finally managed to find his footing after being dealt an unexpected blow. "I want you to help me convince the rest of the clan to smoothly fall in line. After that, Asylum will leave and I will leave with it." He wasn't sure how true the last part was, but all he needed right now was her cooperation. At this point, he'd tell lies to get it.

Smokefeather almost felt bad at seeing Dawnhawk so clearly hurt. If it had been a different time, she would've consoled him like she would've any of her other kits. And then Dawnhawk spoke, reminding her that that time was long past. She listened, feeling her anger steadily rising as he blamed her for this, accused her of only pretending to care about him.

"You aren't a kit anymore, Dawnhawk, so stop acting like one. Your actions are your own, and you can't blame the consequences of those actions on me. You want to find fault? Look at the creek or a pool of water." She rounded on him sharply, ears flattening as she glared at him. "Once, I would've done anything for you. I would've taken on the dark forest if it had meant keeping you safe! You were always frustrating, couldn't make anything simple if your life depended on it, and I could overlook that to a point. But you turned your back on us, not the other way around. I know I wasn't a perfect mother, but I tried. The only thing you have ever done is antagonize and make things difficult for others." She briefly registered that Beechface had gingerly stepped into the den eyes on Smokefeather as if she had wanted to say something, and looking none too pleased at finding Dawnhawk and an Asylum cat there, but whatever the medicine cat had came for would have to wait.

She should stop talking. There was no need for this level of anger. This wasn't going to help the situation. But the rational part of her was squashed out by moons of pent up anger, and Smokefeather continued.

"Stars above, you even made kitting difficult. And when you were born... I wonder if that twoleg commotion that could be heard from camp wasn't a sign of what was to come. I wonder if I would've been wiser to end the threat there. Stars only know I could've saved a lot of heartache in doing so." Even as she said the words, she felt ill.

"And now you want my support? After everything? You can't honestly believe that the Asylum will just leave after everything, don't lie to yourself, or to me. I will never support such an agenda if it means supporting taking innocents from their families because they have the audacity to want to protect their family and clan. I will never support taking away our freedoms and treating fully-grown warriors like kits who can't be trusted, nor I will never support using threats of violence to keep others in line when they have valid complaints."

"Wolfstar named you deputy, and for what reason I cannot fathom. Maybe once, I could've supported such a decision. You were a brilliant and capable warrior, someone I could've been proud to call family." She spat, "But you aren't a warrior now. You aren't family, you lost that right when you decided rogues were more important to you. Now go. Leave."

When she finally stopped speaking, Beechface's gaze flicked between the two, unable to hide her own shock at witnessing her mother snap like this.

"You... should probably go. Stars above, what did you do?" Beechface muttered to Dawnhawk, taking a step towards her mother, though even she seemed almost... Uncertain, almost... Hesitant as she approached.

Sleepy eyes blinked as a little head rose to blearily survey the scene. Featherkit relished in the warmth of her mother, drawing close and stretching up to nuzzle the tender spot where jaw connected to soft fur. A low purr rumbled in the tiny kit's chest and there was a ginger lick, the briefest flash of a pale pink tongue. She looked up at her mother and found a flicker of waking thought - surely Smokefeather had to be the most beautiful cat to ever exist. Surely, Featherkit could would be as pretty someday. The contented smile across her features hardly dissipated as she began to digest the crackling tension thick in the air, those venomous words that had caused her underdeveloped ears to twitch.

Featherkit had been born into a snow white world. Things were dazzling to her, drawing, and perfect. The clan, despite their oppressions, was indeed rife with ease and contentment on several levels. Ignorance to the grander levels of complexity made life an intricately beautiful peace to her. Such things as malice, disdain, hunger, and evil were all foreign concepts. She found Dawnhawk's face after a moment as she swung her own head around. None of the things that plagued him or stained his reputation were know to this little creature that share his blood. Instead, she looked into the face of the beast and wore an expression of curious wide eyes and a warm smile.

There was only a brief moment before she found her paws, shaking away sleep with a quick flourish of her fluffy coat. A few springy steps brought her to the space between Dawnhawk and Smokefeather. Rhythmically, the stumpy kit tail flickered back and forth as she set forth an innocent appeal, "'ello. We should go play in the snow and let mum rest for now. Be fun dontcha think?" Her head tipped curiously, genuinely enamored with the idea of playing out in the snow with this tom. He was almost as beautiful as mother and his pale coat could almost match blanket of snowflakes outside. Such an idea filled Featherkit with unadulterated glee. Thus far, her daily life had consisted of little more than restful sleep and truly fulfilling play. Perhaps this would be another day of such wonder.

Her eyes widened further and her neck stretched forward, straining for an answer and longing to drink in every moment.

Dawnhawk tried to keep his composure, but today he was failing. There was no way he could hide the shock and hurt plain as day on his face. His own mother just admitted that she should have killed him... and what twoleg commotion? Was there some warning sign at his birth that no one told him about? Was he really destined from the start to become what he was now? He wanted to ask, but his words were caught behind the lump in his throat. He hadn't been prepared at all to hear his mother speak the way that she had. Most of the last few things that Smokefeather said fell on deaf ears. He couldn't hear her through his chest pain. Beechface had entered at some point. He only caught the very end of what she said before he could finally remember where he was and feel the ground beneath his feet.

"I existed." He answered the medicine cat. His eyes dropped to the silver kit in front of him. Despite the pure innocence in her eyes and the good, pure intentions that she had, all Dawnhawk could feel toward her was anger. Hate even. Smokefeather was a liar. She would never have sacrificed anything to keep him safe. She had always preferred her daughters over him. For the longest time he had allowed himself to believe that it was no big deal, that it was the mother's job t teach her daughters and the father's job to teach his sons. Bloodstrike at least had tried. Smokefeather had done nothing but ignore him when she wasn't batting him around.

The female kit... his sister allegedly... would always be treated better and loved more than he ever was. Dawnhawk's claws penetrated the earth below him. His eyes went back to Smokefeather as rage burned him from his toes to his ears. The pale tom fixed her with a glower that he had only ever given one other cat... and that cat had attacked Beechface when she was still an apprentice. Maybe the medicine cat would remember that look now that it was back on his face. Maybe she would suddenly remember the fury he was capable of. Maybe she would remember that at one point, he loved her too.

"Well I suppose if I'm not family anymore... you're not my mother, Bloodstrike is not my father, Beechface is not my sister... and neither is this silver-furred abomination at my feet." He growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous new low as his eyes became harder than diamonds, colder than ice, and sharper than even Smokefeather's and Beechface's tongues could ever be. His jaw clenched until red dripped from lips. His muscles tensed until they were very clearly defined all over his body, like a textbook photograph of feline muscle anatomy. He'd had enough of this.

"Too bad Smokefeather. You should have picked your opponents more wisely. You should have loved me and supported me more. This is all your fault. I am no longer your son... and I don't care anymore." His teeth struck down with a vicious swiftness. His fangs pierced through the back of the silver kit's neck and he applied lethal force upon impact. In the same fluid motion, he flicked his head to the side and flung the small kit's body as hard as he could into the nearest wall of the den. There was a crackle of tiny bones being fractured upon collision with stone, and Dawnhawk's eyes were set again upon Smokefeather and her remaining children.

"I will not allow you to have more children. I will kill them all and I would have been the only one left! Would have been! But you're not my mother anymore!" He bellowed it out, right before he made a lunge for Smokefeather and her remaining kits.

Smokefeather felt a chill wind its' way down her spine as Dawnhawk spoke, icy unease churning in her gut as Dawnhawk focused his gaze on Featherkit.

"Featherkit, get away from him." She rasped, fur bristling as she reached in vain for the sweet kit. She didn't know Dawnhawk, didn't know what the rogues could do. Didn't realize the danger she was in.

Her gaze snapped to Dawnhawk in disbelieving anger at his words. Featherkit? An abomination? This, this constant spew of vitriol. This was why he never got along with anyone. And Smokefeather was so very tired of it. So very tired of being blamed for his actions. Nobody was responsible for Dawnhawk's treachery, nobody but Dawnhawk.

Moons of idleness in the nursery, of taking care of the kits and resting instead of hunting and fighting had dulled Smokefeather's reflexes. Her own body had tensed in response to Dawnhawk's tension, but she'd never thought he'd attack a kit. The queen had managed to rise halfway to her paws by the time he lunged for her...

---

Dawnhawk's expression of sheer rage was one Beechface recognized, one she never thought would be turned on his own family. Beechface didn't know what had sparked Smokefeather's rant, nor was she sure that her words warranted Dawnhawk's reaction. What she did know, was that Dawnhawk was a monster. He'd killed a kit. Their little sister. The shock of hearing tiny bones crunch was finally enough to break the medicine cat free of her own stillness, and as he made a move towards Smokefeather and Mountainkit, the medicine cat lunged forward with a snarl.

"How could you? She was an innocent kit!" Beechface hissed, claws unsheathing. Medicine cats weren't supposed to fight, but she could not just sit there and watch him kill innocents. The time where words would have done anything to help the situation was long, long past. If Starclan would punish her for trying to stop him from causing more harm, then so be it.

Dawnhawk wasn't family, he'd made that clear over and over again, and the guard he'd brought with him probably wouldn't step in to help. Why would he? They were nothing more than heartless rogues, all of them. Something the clan needed to be protected from.

Dimly, she was aware that Smokefeather had shrunk back, curling protectively around her kit and trying to shelter her from what was happening. Had the threat not been so immediate she would've gone to her mother's side instead, to make sure that she and Mountainkit were okay. She might've noticed the way Smokefeather's fur bristled and the way her ears flattened, how her eyes were wide with fear. As it was now, there was no time to even spare a glance towards them. Her claws met his shoulder forcefully as Beechface attempted to drag Dawnhawk away from Smokefeather, uncaring of the blood that welled from the marks her claws made. No amount of Dawnhawk's blood would be enough to pay for what he'd just done.

Dawnhawk made a noise somewhere between a cat and something straight from the Dark Forest as his rage overwhelmed him and Beechface's claws connected with his shoulder. He managed to rip away before too much damage was done. His fury now focused on Beechface and blinding him to all logic, reason or any sense of caution. "I defended you once, but no more. I'll slaughter you. I should have let that rogue rip you to pieces." Dawnhawk spat until drool dripped from his lips and even his eyes watered. They were not tears of pity or remorse for what he had done. His anger had reached heights unlike ever before. "No one is innocent. Not anymore. I am the law here... no one else!" And then he lurched forward with murderous intent burning bright in his frigid gaze.

His claws slashed at her without much aim but with plenty of brute force that even Bloodstrike would have been surprised by. The asylum cat at the entrance could only stare in shock as the events unfolded. He looked back several times, torn between going to get help and staying to try to stop this on his own. He didn't know what to do. Dawnhawk outranked him.

Dawnhawk used Rear-Up to Slash, dealing 17 damage and -15SP

Dawnhawk
95HP / 265SP (-15SP) (-5HP for attacking a meddie)

Beechface
38HP / 120SP (-17HP) (+5HP for med cat boost)

Beechface growled right back at him, his words mostly going ignored. Talking was useless, and would simply be a waste of breath, at this point. His claws fell upon her shoulders, and the medicine cat grit her teeth. That was a pain she could deal with, she just... had to get him away from Smokefeather and the kits.

She leapt for his back now, fully intending to pin him down if she could. She'd never be able to overpower him otherwise. She hadn't active trained, herself, for longer than she cared to admit. But Beechface was done sitting and watching. If she didn't do something, it was painfully obvious that nobody else would.

Beechface used Leap and Hold for -10sp, dealing -6 damage. LAH for 1 turn.

Beechface
38 / 55 hp
110 / 120 sp (120 - 10)

Dawnhawk -pinned for 1 turn-
89 / 100 hp (95 - 6)
265 / 280 sp

The member 'kjSage' has done the following action : Dices roll

---

'Effect Dice' : 1

Dawnhawk watched the medicine cat's movements and knew what she was going to do as she was doing it. Unlike her, he'd had extensive training from both Skyclan and the Asylum. His body was hard as stone from muscle, now an appropriate size for his own body after figuring out that the Asylum's teachings were great short term while Clan style was better for long term. He'd simply combined the two, being an expert in both. An out of practice medicine cat stood no chance, even if she was double his size.

She used her strength to force him down, but he rolled at the last moment to move her with her own force right into the ground. He ground his shoulder into her ribs as he rolled off of her, managing to get to his feet once more. He let out a chuckle, but it had absolutely nothing to do with amusement.

"You're outmatched. Maybe you'd be useful if you had become a warrior. Instead, you accepted Starclan's request that you play with plants. You'll pay for that mistake with your life." His eyes shot over to the cowering Smokefeather and the kit underneath her. Not once in his life did he think he'd be happy to see that. Smokefeather had always acted so strong and so proud, but she had a weakness as everyone did... and apparently only Dawnhawk had thought to exploit it. His eyes went back to Beechface, content that Smokefeather would have to watch him kill yet another daughter of her's.

Dawnhawk used Duck and Twist, dealing 8 damage and being freed from stunned, costing 25SP

Dawnhawk
No longer stunned
89HP / 240SP (-25SP)

Beechface
30HP / 110SP (-8HP)

Of course, of course the dark-forest-cursed foxheart would bring up her becoming a medicine cat. What else should she have expected from him? He knew it hadn't been her choice, and he still brought it up like it affected her. Well, Beechface was starting to become numb to it, at last.

"Useless? Tell that to every cat I've help over the past season." Beechface hissed as he ground his shoulder into her chest. She responded by slashing at his belly furiously. Maybe she should have kept going when they'd fought all those moons ago as an apprentice. Maybe Smokefeather was right that he should have been killed long ago.

Beechface used Belly Rake for -10sp, dealing -7 damage.

Beechface
30 / 55 hp
100 / 120 sp (110 - 10)

Dawnhawk
82 / 100 hp (89 - 7)
265 / 280 sp

Dawnhawk actually visibly cringed when he saw her claws come for his belly. They connected... and it was far less damage than he had been expecting. His eyes locked onto her's, a new wave of fury overtaking him for her attempt to gut him. A sadistic smile pulled across his face and he bared his teeth at her, bloodied from the murder of his tiny sister. "No, no... you mouse-brained medicine cat. Like this!" He hissed, right before he too attacked her belly. His claws ripped into her soft flesh and he rolled once more, getting to his feet after slicing her open.

"I'll be sure to tell the graves of the many more you could have saved if only you were capable of killing me... them for example." He nodded in Smokefeather's and the other kit's direction. His tongue swept over his bloodied teeth, finally clearing it away. He was ready to finish this.

Dawnhawk used half-turn belly rake, dealing 16 damage and -20SP

Dawnhawk
82HP / 220SP (-20SP)

Beechface
14HP / 100SP (-16HP)

Beechface bared her teeth at Dawnhawk, fury coursing through her at his words. Her claws didn't do nearly enough damage to him, far less than she would have preferred. That was the consequence of not actively training, she supposed, but the sting of becoming a medicine cat had faded over the moons.

And then he decided to show her how the move was done. Stars... The medicine cat twisted, lashing out with her claws at him once more before curling in on herself in an attempt to protect her belly. He couldn't possibly know that she was... Nobody knew, she'd been hoping to ask Smokefeather about it in private tonight, but clearly that plan had gone sideways. Maybe it was karma. She wasn't supposed to have kits, and there was no way to do that if she was dead.

"Kill me, then, but at least I'll have died with honor." At least she'd die defending those she cared about, more of a warrior's death than Dawnhawk would ever get.

Beechface used Belly Rake for -10sp, dealing -7 damage.

Beechface
14 / 55 hp
90 / 120 sp (100 - 10)

Dawnhawk
75 / 100 hp (82 - 7)
265 / 280 sp