Just Like Home {closed}

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He had walked the line between the Mist and the Dark Forest for far too long. What kind of a fate was that? To be sent to purgatory rather than the darkness where StarClan's true enemies were. Flintfang had killed Burnt - and he supposed that such an action won him favor in his ancestor's eyes. It wasn't supposed to be taken that way, and he didn't do it to redeem himself. He did it because Burnt asked him to. Burnt was meant to be the harbinger of their utopia. Burnt was supposed to free them from the code, from StarClan... But in the end, he was guilted by the very same morals. He killed another, and through that, he became unworthy. So he had to die as well. Flintfang had a lot of time to think such things over... and in the end, he came to a conclusion. Killing another, taking a life, should be a miniscule thing if it meant saving an entire clan. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

The trees stretched impossibly high into the starless sky. It was dark, so dark that Flintfang could only see a few foxlengths ahead of nose. Brambles grew amongst the scorched undergrowth, lifeless and dead. The tom was almost thankful that he'd been sent to the Mist instead of... here. But he'd made his choice now. This was to be his home. Sacrifices were always necessary. Two warriors had fallen a moment earlier, bleeding out in the snow. Thankfully, the badger had left them alone. Flintfang stepped into their consciousness, probing their minds as their bodies lay in the physical world.

"Not bad." He grunted as the two began to wake. Appledapple and Starlingflare. "You've had worse..." His gaze caught on the tom's eye - or lack thereof. He watched their spectral forms arise, eyes tracing the ribs probing their pelts, the scars beneath their fur. Flintfang had been through many leafbares... none as fierce as this one. It was warriors like these that would ensure the clan's survival. The clan should be grateful... He thought, digging his claws into the infertile soil. The two warriors were staring at him - shocked, probably. The tom figured he should explain himself. "You're not dead... don't worry. I just need a bit of your time... I'm sure you have some to spare." Considering you're not going anywhere...

"Leafbare's hit ThunderClan hard. I was their warrior once myself... I'm- er... I guess I was Flintfang. I served under Leopardstar... and then Oakstar. No? Mossbloom was my daughter, for a time, at least." The warrior winced and rolled his shoulders. "Whatever... that's not important. What is important is the situation your Clan is in. The forest is in. I've watched your kits and elders die from the cold... no food to fill their bellies. What's your plan?"

Starlingflare could still feel the pain of the damage the Badger had done. He let out a groan as he blinked his eyes open. Someone.. Someone was speaking. He lifted himself to an upright position, his gaze slowly coming into focus.. Who.. Who was that? Flintfang? Where was he? There was so much for him to process. Their plan? They.. they didn't have one it seemed.. Thunderclan sat passively while the other clans flourished because of their pain.

"I.." For once his voice was soft, it was unusual for the dilute tom. "I don't know!" Starlingflare growled out, the fire returning to him as he finally got his bearings. "Our leader sits idle, while Riverclan and Skyclan guilt trip him into letting us suffer! He won't even make a move to improve things for our clan! They all talk about mouths to feed, but do they think about us? No! But clearly we think about them when we shouldn't!" He huffed out, his chest heaving as he finally got some frustrations off his chest.

"I.." His voice dying down once again. He didn't know why he was venting this to this weird cat in this weird place, but he wanted it to be known. "I can't even hunt anymore.. Shadowclan never got punished for taking my eye.. and because of them I'm useless."

Scarlet on white. Bleeding into snow. The crunch of a heavy paw striking down on her bones and... wait. There was no snow here. The ground felt... slimy, but not snowy. Where was she? Did someone find them and bring them back to the medicine den? Was Starlingflare okay? With an inhalation of shock, Appledapple swiftly raised her head from the ground, then winced at the pain that the motion caused. However, the shock didn't go away. This entire area was unfamiliar to her. Dark as a moonless night, trees taller than she had ever seen, undergrowth that scraped the edges of her vision. Where... where was this? And who was the foul-smelling tom staring at them from the shadows? At least Starlingflare was here. He looked... well, he looked normal. As good as he could get, she supposed.

Well, according to this strange cat she didn't recognize, at least they weren't dead. Could've fooled me. He said he was Flintfang, a former ThunderClan warrior. The name didn't ring a bell. However, at his words that echoed the furious yelling match she'd had with the deputy, a familiar warm rush of anger began to build in her chest. After Starlingflare growled that their leader seemed to be failing, which the tortoiseshell was ashamed to admit she probably agreed with, she spoke up. "Our leadership is too sad about losses to consider that we are losing far more every day by not fighting for our Clan," Appledapple added, a snarl curling her lip as she remembered Stoatfur's excuses. "Bloodstar beat us up on a border patrol and stole our land, while claiming to be an ally. RiverClan's warriors proclaimed the high path, then murdered one of our Clanmates when our back was turned. I lost my brother to the rapids of the river. ThunderClan is falling apart, and all we can do is take extra hunting patrols and sit in our dens crying about how hungry we are." Her tail lashed behind her as she worked herself up into a frenzy, talking more to herself than to this Flintfang character. "I've tried to bring this up to the deputy, but he's too lost in himself to care. I really thought he'd be better than that.... and Minkstar, my mentor, doesn't have the time, courtesy, or presence of mind to let me give voice to my concerns. We will all starve to death while our greedy neighbors fill their bellies with prey from our territories and laugh at us from between the trees!"

They talked swiftly, hesitant at first to bring up their frustrations with ThunderClan, but they were there. Every cat had them, even the clan's best warriors were discontent with the system, and now they paid dearly for it. No food to eat, no protection from the opposition, and no justice. Flintfang had to stop himself from chuckling. He knew he wasn't the only one who felt misplaced there... Minkstar was just like Nettlestar before him, and Nettlestar like Oakstar... There would be no change unless the clans' inhabitants advocated for it. Unless they wanted it like a kit wants milk from its mother.

"I see..." Flintfang whispered, pacing around the two. Scars still lined his frame where he'd been wounded in life. Perhaps the most striking was the gaping hole that cut through his back and into his stomach. He'd been impaled on a jutting tree branch, which took his life from him. It reminded the tom that he was dead. Reminded him that he was a walking ghost. The tom that hung him there meant no malice in it, in fact, it was an accident. Sacrifices needed to be made for the greater good. Flintfang wondered how much these two would be willing to give.

"If I could offer you a solution to your problems... would you take it? I can teach you to fight stronger, harder. I'll tell you about StagClan, cats who put the wellbeing of others first, above the code. You don't know me... but you will."

Starlingflare's single eye followed the tom as he paced around the two of them. Granted he didn't really move his head, so when the tom passed behind them, he lost sight of Flintfang. There were.. many scars on the tom.. One in particular was very concerning to the Thunderclan warrior.. Was this tom dead? That would explain all the uses of the word 'was'.. If they weren't dead it sure felt like it. This wasn't Starclan that was for sure.

"I'm willing to do anything at this point to turn Thunderclan around. We can't suffer anymore than we already have.. I don't want this suffering to continue." The dilute tom said. "I want to be stronger, I want to be better. I want to turn everything in our favor." In my favor. He thought to himself.

After her outburst, Appledapple had time to pause and fully inspect the cat who was speaking to them. Past tense... so he must be dead... I didn't know StarClan cats kept their wounds? It was strange to see the hole through him, with no blood flowing out of it. If he was dead, his heart wouldn't be beating. She had no clue whether or not Flintfang was truly who he said he was, or could offer what he said he did. However, with the state ThunderClan was in right now, did she really have a choice? With their lack of territory, frozen-over prey, and the current swarm of predators like the badger that had just nearly ended both their lives... they needed any help they could possibly get, no matter how strange the source. If this tom could truly give them such a boost to their power, such a solution, then they could take back Sunningrocks and the Fallen Oak. The other Clans would never dare bother them again. She didn't know or care about the offhanded "StagClan" remark-- the only Clan she cared about was her own. But despite this tom's idiosyncrasies... "Anything for my Clan," she said eventually, narrowing her stormy gray eyes. "If I could be stronger, if I could truly protect my Clan, I would do anything."