i’m the hurricane [closed]

Day after day, night after night, Briarthorn had forced her paws to endure the journey to Fourtrees, despite her constant state of pure exhaustion. The large, dark brown tabby had even made a point of coming at different times during the day, sneaking out of camp whenever she could convince the night guard to look the other way. It wasn’t unusual for her- she’d always been restless, unable to get good, consistent sleep.

This time she was panting as she made her way into Fourtrees, beads of sweat clinging to her skin beneath her thick coat of fur. Briarthorn didn’t need a medicine cat to tell her what was wrong, and she wouldn’t be risking revealing her condition to anyone within the Clan if she didn’t have to. Still, he needed to know.

So, for what felt like the hundredth time, she sat rather impatiently in the center of the clearing, waiting for him to appear.

Something had told him to come to Fourtrees... but if anyone asked him what, he wouldn't be able to tell them. The journey there was nearly a blur. Time was almost not even real to him and he felt as if he were back in the Asylum's prison cell. He'd gotten Tigersong killed and his murderer still ran free. He felt like a failure... but in more ways than just a failed deputy. He had betrayed the warrior code as well... As much as the giant tom tried to keep his emotions under wraps, they had been overwhelming and controlling him a lot lately. He was not the same Bloodstrike that he used to be.

He entered into the clearing that was Fourtrees and he spotted a familiar she-cat. The pieces of the puzzle were already falling into place. He was urged to come here by an unknown reason.. maybe a sixth sense that he was needed at Fourtrees away from the judging eyes and ears of other clan cats.

"Briarthorn," He acknowledged her softly. Why would she be here again as well? She appeared to be waiting... and at that moment Bloodstrike's suspicions were confirmed.

He already knew why she was here, but he was going to let her speak anyway.

Briarthorn had begun kneading her paws anxiously- something she rarely ever did. In an attempt to hide her self-soothing (though you could hardly call it that, as it didn't seem to help in the slightest) actions she quickly placed her tail over her front paws and shut her eyes, trying to force any unwanted thoughts from her mind. Pawsteps around the outskirts of the clearing caught her attention and her eyes immediately snapped open, landing promptly on the familiar pelt of Bloodstrike in the distance. Wasting no time, she got to her paws and began approaching him, her hooded gaze effectively guarding whatever awful amalgamation of thoughts and emotions she was trying to process.

Sitting down across from the tom with little space between them, she huffed and averted her gaze. She was pregnant, she'd done a horrible thing... And now she had to tell Bloodstrike.

When the tom mewed her name she looked up for a moment, locking eyes with him in silence until she couldn't anymore. "Bloodstrike," She said softly in return, keeping completely still as she gazed at her own paws. "... I've been waiting for you. We... We need to talk." Her hesitation was obvious in the way she spoke, unsure of her words and stumbling over them now and then. "I don't go to gatherings unless my brother makes me, so I waited here." Eyes still locked on her paws, she explained the situation. There was nothing left to do now except say it... So why was she struggling so badly to find the words? It wasn't that she felt guilty about it, as she'd never truly cared about the code. Was it because of the pit in her stomach every time she thought about her kits? Perhaps it was the intense feeling of dread when she remembered each passing day brought her closer to giving birth to kits that she wasn't sure she wanted. With a sigh, she shook her head and looked to Bloodstrike, the pain in her eyes as clear as a Greenleaf evening. "I'm pregnant with your kits." Simple yet effective.

Every muscle in Briarthorn's body was tense and she subconsciously unsheathed her claws slightly, unaware of the score marks she was making in the dirt beneath her. Pale green eyes stared at the tom as she waited for a reaction, unsure how he might respond.

Bloodstrike saw the nervousness and the fidgety nature of the she-cat. He'd never seen a reaction to expecting kits like that before. Smokefeather had always been happy... But he supposed it was different when you broke the code. Bloodstrike himself wasn't sure how to feel about it. A part of him was happy, somewhere, but more of him was concerned about where to go from here. Briarthorn didn't have to tell him the news. Bloodstrike pretty much already knew at this point. "I'm not surprised. I've had three litters before this one." His tone wasn't angry, nor did he sound celebratory. The giant tom reclined onto his haunches and fixed Briarthorn in a soft green gaze.

"I'd be happy with it if it weren't for the giant problem we now have... or you rather. I'm the Deputy of Skyclan. I can't just leave. Something could happen to Wolfstar, or he might decide to step down at any given time. I won't leave my clan in such a dilemma." And now it was his turn to be nervous. There wasn't a nice way to say it, but he didn't think she cared to beat around the bush either, by how direct she had been with telling him the news earlier. "You're a warrior of Shadowclan, and I'm sure your clan cares for you, but in the end you are one of several warriors. Your clan doesn't need you in the same way that my clan needs me." He paused, hating how harsh the words sounded. But it was the logic of this situation, and emotions had no place in decisions that demanded solutions that made sense.

"So what are you going to do? Are you coming to Skyclan or are you content to have our kits in Shadowclan? I won't pressure you either way. The decision has to completely be your own." He paused again, and he couldn't prevent the ironic thought that crossed his mind and forced a smile on his face. "What a turn of events this is... When we first met it was with violence... then the second time too. I'm sorry... I can't help but laugh at the irony. Life can certainly be a trip..." Though he didn't know how funny she'd think it was. Oh well.

Briarthorn's head was sunken between her shoulders, a habitual practice which she'd adopted in an attempt to make herself seem smaller in comparison to her Clanmates. It had almost developed into an unconscious therapeutic form of self-soothing at this point, but never mind that. If it helped her feel better about this situation at all, she'd take it. She wasn't entirely sure why, but hearing that Bloodstrike had previously had kits was almost... Upsetting. It wasn't surprising- he wasn't the youngest tom in the forest, and he was the deputy- surely some pretty SkyClan molly had taken interest in him before. Shaking it off, Briarthorn kept her eyes on Bloodstrike as he spoke.

Her ears flattened slightly when he mentioned ShadowClan not needing her as his Clan needed him, not in anger, but in a profound sense of sadness. Bloodstrike being right seemingly made it ten times worse. The truth of the matter was... Her Clan didn't need her at all. Most of her Clanmates didn't even like her. She'd managed to not make Mistyfalcon hate her somehow, but outside of her own family, that was about it. No matter what angle she approached it from, the truth of the matter was that her Clanmates didn't need her, or even like her. And that simple fact, combined with the lurking threat of what she'd done not a moon prior to this conversation, made this decision that much easier.

"You're right," She mewed in a half-dejected, half-relieved tone. Dejected because despite most of the Clan not really caring for her, she'd spent her entire life there. Even if it didn't feel like a home, that's what she'd called it ever since she was a kit. Relieved, because perhaps there was something more for in SkyClan. Not only that, but it'd be easier to escape the horrible reality of what she had done.

"If SkyClan will take me, that's where I'll go. But... I have to return to ShadowClan first, I've got some things I need to do before I can leave. I hope you can understand." The large she-cat mewed decidedly, pale green eyes staring at Bloodstrike from where she sat. "You're right on that account too," Her tail tip twitched every now and then as she sat awkwardly for a moment before adding, "I have to admit, this is the first time one of my more violent encounters resulted in kits." A forced chuckle sounded from her maw and Briarthorn shifted uncomfortably, not liking the way her belly felt weighed down. Moving so that she laid with her front paws tucked neatly beneath her chest, she looked up to Bloodstrike from her position across from him. "... So, your last mate. Is she in SkyClan?" Briarthorn asked without much forethought. If she was going to be joining the Clan, she might as well know exactly what she was getting herself into.

Bloodstrike was glad that she took his humor well... and also that she was willing to see sense. She mentioned things that needed to be done in Shadowclan, and that was fine with him. She could take all the time she wanted. Meanwhile, with her mind being made up that she would join Skyclan, he would need to run this by Wolfstar. What a joy this would be. Still, Bloodstrike was many things but a coward wasn't one of them. He'd face his leader and father, admit his wrongs, and take whatever punishment was due to come his way.

"I understand. Do whatever you need to do in Shadowclan to prepare. I will meet with Wolfstar and give him the news. I'd be surprised if he denied your entry into Skyclan, though he won't be thrilled with my decision making." At her next question, his ears rotated outward and he held them there for a moment. "Smokefeather is still in Skyclan but we're no longer together. Things just... didn't work out." It wasn't completely his story to tell, and he didn't need Briarthorn or Smokefeather to make any premature judgements about each other, not if they would be in the same clan.

"Do you need anything from me before I go?" He asked her, eager to move off of the subject of his ex-mate.