original lifeline [open - flintstar needed]

ooc: takes place several days after the head of the snake & the liberation of shadowclan

As it turned out, ShadowClan was marsh all the way through.

Pyrik didn’t mind, really; having varying amounts of mud in his fur all day, every day for as long as he could remember had made him immune to it. He couldn’t say the same for…well, for everything else. Tall, pointed pines replaced hills and heather. Where he’d grown accustomed to seeing rabbits, lizards skittered across his path. Even the sky, slowly coming back to life as the cold season loosened its grip on the forest, looked different hanging over the mire.

With every step, he waited for a spark. A memory set alight. Something, anything familiar amid the new. With every step, he was disappointed. But deep down, he understood. Expected it, even. If he’d truly been their Emberkit, those days were too far gone to spring back to him now. “You were ShadowClan once,” he murmured, and pressed on.

It took so much effort he nearly strained his nose in trying, but at last the lanky tom caught a thread of warm, living mud-scent in the cold. From there, he managed to pin down where that scent was strongest: ShadowClan’s border. Hopefully. A dismayed frown settled on Pyrik’s face as he paced along the invisible line. …What now? The Clans had a method for everything—even this, he was certain. But he’d kept his distance from WindClan’s border patrols even before Gingertalon. He already had the fox skin on his shoulders (half for honesty, half because he needed a shield sturdier than his own pelt); he couldn’t risk another misstep. Pyrik looked over his shoulder at the lines he’d tracked through the murk—and plunked himself down in the middle, aiming for something between relaxed and polite, and landing on “politely terrified.”

As nearly always, Flintstar was on patrol. Asylum was gone - or so it seemed. It had been a while since he had seen traces of them, but he wasn't having faith in that just yet. His heavy footfalls silenced by the squishing of mud beneath him but it didn't slow the leader down any. In fact, he was tracking a new scent that had caught his nose. It smelled faintly of a fox, but also of WindClan. And...Perhaps Asylum? It was hard to nail down what exactly Asylum smelled like but he was certain this was it. He wasn't about to assume anything - not all Asylum cats had chosen to leave, some seemed to seek places within the Clans... Finally, he spotted the source - a fox-covered tom. However, his face was familiar and it brought the leader pause because he...Recognized it, faintly. ...Ah.

Emberkit.

"Hello," he meowed, pushing down the faint sense of remembrance. For as much as the tom looked like Emberkit, he was not - he was...Something new. The leader was not the same he had been as a kit, he had learned and grown...Even if he was just as awkward at softening terrible news. He was not about to expect this tom to be what he remembered - thinking back on his old mentor...And how different, he had turned out being. No, cats were different in memories. Flintstar knew better than that. "May I help you?"

Mistyfalcon had crashed hard after the battle and breaking the news to Shadowclan. He'd slept most of the day, but once moonhigh had hit, he'd been up, more excited about the prospect of patrolling than he'd been in moons. The days following had been little different. He'd never been so happy to patrol by himself. He'd never been so happy for a forest free of shadows stalking his every pawstep. Asylum was gone. They were free.

Tonight he'd strayed towards the borders. Patrolling them was more important than ever, the clan had to make sure Asylum was truly gone... And part of him hoped he would see Emberkit- Pyrik. They'd parted ways after the battle at fourtrees, but the tom had said he wanted to return. Mistyfalcon had figured the tom wouldn't know Shadowclan territory well. From his scent, he'd spent time on the moors, and the moors and the marsh were vastly different. So that meant Mistyfalcon made his way along the borders, hoping for a familiar face.

Padding through the marsh, a pair of voices caught his tattered ears. Flintstar's was immediately recognizable, the second took a bit longer to place. It wasn't until Mistyfalcon had padded forward and caught sight of the cat to whom the voice belonged that he was fully certain.

"Flintstar, Pyrik!" He called out a greeting that sounded far more cheery than his usual, trotting forward. His gaze flicked between both his leader and the former Asylum tom, somewhat cautiously. There didn't seem to be any hostility... And Mistyfalcon hoped it would stay that way.

At the first hint of motion in the distance, Pyrik rose, grateful to the fox for hiding the worst of his nervous bristling. He could already tell, based on the amount of fluff around the approaching cat’s neck and shoulders, that this was neither Mistyfalcon nor the other ShadowClanner who’d called him Emberkit. Being recognized by two warriors didn’t guarantee his safety when neither of them was here. He looked, smelled, probably acted like an Asylum cat, and for all he knew, ShadowClan’s leader was as vengeful as Lilacstar.

Or maybe not. The stranger, face and tone unreadable, greeted him with words instead of the claws he’d braced for. Whatever orders had been given, “kill on sight” apparently wasn’t among them. “Yes, please, that’d be great,” Pyrik said breathlessly. “Is this ShadowClan? I’ve been trying to find the border… I’m looking for Mistyfalcon and, um—” As he combed through his memories for the tortoiseshell she-cat’s name, he realized she’d never given him one. “My name’s Pyrik.”

A voice—a voice he knew—split the air, and Pyrik looked away from the stranger despite his better judgment. "Mistyfalcon!” From the relief in his tone, one might’ve thought he and Mistyfalcon had been denmates for moons. ”I was just looking for you and that cat you were with, I—“

He trailed off, the light in his eyes turning to back to uncertainty. Right. The stranger. He'd have to explain just how he knew Mistyfalcon and the she-cat, just why he was here cloaked in Asylum's marks. Though his nerves were stretched so tight he feared he might snap in two, the truth, or as much of it as he could bear to tell, mattered more. “There was a fight at that clearing, Four…trees? And Mistyfalcon and his Clanmate, they—they recognized me, and said I could come back with them, and—” That was too many ands. Pyrik sucked in a breath simply to stop himself from talking. The story was absurd enough already; fumbling with it now would do him no favors. As he began again, he cast an over-desperate glance at Mistyfalcon. “They said I lived here before Asylum took me, and I wanted to ask if…if I could come back. But I don’t know who to ask.”

Pyrik, huh? Flintstar opened his mouth to reply to the young tom when another voice caught both of their ears - Mistyfalcon trotting into the scene. The leader dipped his head, knowing that this confirmed what he had suspected - this had to be the 'Missing Kit' that Mistyfalcon had mentioned meeting...And Pyrik very quickly confirmed that with a story of his own. So he wished to return, become a member of ShadowClan... "I see," the leader meowed, tilting his head a little. "Well, by your luck, I am the one you are to ask. I am Flintstar, leader of ShadowClan. Mistyfalcon was right to offer you a place - I have no qualms with it, you are not the first Asylum cat I have welcomed into my Clan. If you truly wish to join ShadowClan, then I can make it so. But..." he paused, glancing over at Mistyfalcon for a heartbeat before he turned back to Pyrik. "What do you expect out of this? Do you wish to be acknowledged by your previous name, or do you wish to find your place within ShadowClan as Pyrik? Is there any requests you wish to make? To not be asked to fight, or do you require to be taught how to hunt...? I do not seek to ask for more than you can give, young Pyrik."

Flintstar. Star. Under two layers of fur, Pyrik blanched. Interrupting someone to apologize was nearly as bad as not apologizing at all, however, so he kept quiet as Flintstar continued, the apprehension on his face morphing into something just short of hope. The ShadowClanners had been right. He could stay. He could prove himself worthy of a place here, or at least die trying. With a sideways look at Mistyfalcon, Flintstar asked, “What do you expect out of this?” and Pyrik fell still.

If he got lucky, this shelter could turn into a home, its allies into a family. Stumbling into ShadowClan’s paws—during the most chaotic night of his life, at that—must have used up a lifetime’s worth of good fortune. That was the most he could ask of them. Yet pretending he could effortlessly slip into a life he’d never lived would end in failure. “…I can’t be Emberkit.” His throat closed around the name, and he ducked. “I don’t know if I can keep being Pyrik, either, but that’s what I’d rather go by right now, if it’s okay. And…I want to learn how to be a warrior, the way I would have. Should have. Though I can still do whatever you need me to!” he hastened to add. “Asylum taught me a lot, it’s just…I only know how to do things their way.

“There’s, um. One last thing.” Lifting the fox’s tail with a gentle paw, Pyrik pulled at it as if to draw it around himself. “I want to keep my pelt. I won’t wear it around anyone, I can hide it wherever you want me to, but it’s—I-I’m—” When his voice gave way this time, it didn’t return. He shook his head.

"Ah, that would be Murkystrike." During the battle there hadn't been much time for exchanging pleasantries. He listened as Flintstar spoke, the faint hint of a smile tugging at his maw. Accepting anyone that had been Asylum would have been anathema to him not long ago, that is, until Murkystrike's trial and meeting Ichtaca when he'd discovered they were determined to keep their own down as well as the clans. The kits that had been stolen... Mistyfalcon did not envy what they must be going through. It was good that Flintstar was willing to give those cats a chance.

"You'll pick up on our methods quickly, I'm sure. I hope you're not squeamish about getting mud in your fur." He offered a smirk at the last bit, Shadowclan prowled the marsh, after all. This section of the territory was, relatively speaking, dry.

"The pelt doesn't bother me." He said, hoping his tone came off more reassuring than indifferent, it was the truth, though he wasn't sure if some of his clanmates might agree. The pelts had bothered him at the start of Asylum's occupation, but the fox was far-enough removed from that of a dog that Mistyfalcon thought little of it, personally. And if he wasn't going to wear it, who cared what one cat kept in their nest?

They couldn't expect Pyrik to be the kit that he had been, nor could they expect him to immediately drop everything and conform to the clan's way of life after having been raised by the Asylum.

Flintstar nodded as Pyrik laid out his own wishes - to remain Pyrik, for now at least, and wished to retrain. He would have to speak to Ebonysong about that but it was simple enough to deal with - they had plenty of cats who were up to train. His ear twitch as Mistyfalcon brought up Murkystrike. Hm...Now perhaps that would be a good choice. She was young, yes, but she had already proven herself a good mentor from when she had taught Ichtaca. He would have to speak to her but she had already seemed on good terms with Pyrik...Yes, that ought to do. Then, Pyrik expressed his desire to kept his pelt. The leader waved a tail at that, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. "You may keep the pelt - wear it, put it in your nest...I do not care," he replied. "As for everything else, that is suitable. You may remain as Pyrik - if you wish to take upon a new name, you only need to let me know. A mentor can be found for you - I have one in mind but I need to speak further with my deputy and the cat in question. A place within ShadowClan is yours if you only wish it - you do not need to be what you are not. Nonetheless, I suppose you are..."

There was a pause, the leader blinking as he thought about his next word. "You are family, Pyrik." There was another pause following that, before he turned to lead the pair to the camp. He glanced over her shoulder, recalling something that perhaps he ought to mention sooner - that he was not the first outside Asylum cat that he had chosen to accept. "Ah, speaking of - we have another of the...Ah, stolen kits among us. A 'Thalia?' She is not from ShadowClan but that did not stop her from seeking a place here, and I did not hesitate to allow her in - perhaps you two know each other well? This might help ease your joining, knowing that you will not be the only one seeking a new place, hm?"