yawning grave [closed]

Sickness. Starvation. Death.

It seemed as if such condemning things called to him, pulled the handsome tom from waiting in the clinging shadows. The sensation was perpetually heavy, like the eternally dripping water from his cat. Passing moons had brought a certain sense of not quite relief but rather acceptance of his condition - now merely a backdrop to an afterlife in a rotted forest. But Slatethroat had never been at rest. He'd lurked, restless, like a shadow that pulsed like a beating heart. Such a beautiful and ugly beast had only previously reared its head to stir up problems for the forest. And now seemed like the proper time to dredge up such things again.

All of the afterlife's underbelly could feel it - something had lifted the weight, ever so slightly making pawsteps easier to come by. There was something in the air. The sensation was stirring, bringing an unusual feeling over power to those who so desperately craved it. A carnal drive overwhelmed him and set his teeth on edge. This was the moment he'd sought for since kithood, something that had been missing, now to be relieved in death. Or so it seemed. Whatever was to come would be revealed in time. For now... a plan had been sent in motion. Dreams were something they could now linger in, dancing about as frightful nightmare for those whose subconscious minds allowed for it.

Slatethroat wasn't the only one but sought to lead the movement. He'd been charismatic in life, driven, and it benefitted him now. Hopefully such a silken tongue could sway Windclan's warriors to seek out this season of strength. When the clans were at the weakest, this was what they needed. He would show her.

Ashfall was his chosen protege - a warrior who would lead the clan into an era of prosperity. She followed after the clan's leader, facing not only the adversity of the season, but the waning strength of her mate as well. Desperate cats looked for desperate solutions; it was far easier to captivate the attention of cats who were susceptible. All that aside, this was a warrior that he wanted to fight on his side, to see her grow as he had his own clanmates before - ones who were bold enough to stand for what they believed in.

It was easy to slip into her dreams. Whatever scenery had previously been there began to transform. This world was a twisted one but he'd selected a more mild part of their filthy dwelling. The clearing was pleasant enough, for the Dark Forest. Encircling the pair was a knotted messed of twisted trees, whose roots broke from the mixture of sand and dirt, creating the most intricate of patterns. In the right light, it could have almost been considered beautiful.

In front of Ashfall he stood, taking a few steps close, but pausing a couple of tail-lengths away to regard her. Green eyes seemed to rake her coat like oddly gentle claws. Prying, prodding, but purposeful in their pursuits. Slatethroat's pelt was mostly slate grey, like his namesake but his underbelly was pure white as the snow. Both his paws and his muzzle boasted a similar lack of coloration. In every way possible, he was a handsome tom - the Dark Forest hadn't managed to strip him of that yet. Despite the endlessly dripping moisture of his sodden coat and an underbelly that looked like it had been gashed by badger claws, he looked like he had in life.

A grin crossed his maw, a rather pleasant greeting offered to the Windclanner, and his eyes gleamed, "Welcome, Ashfall, I've been waiting so long to meet you. My name is Slatethroat." Questions would come, he was sure of it, but that was to be expected and he welcomed them.

The time of the Dark Forest was coming.

Ashfall had laid down to sleep in her nest. She had moved it to the leader's den to be closer to Daystar, to the love of her life. Now the nest next to her was empty, save for the scent that lingered. Her love was across the camp, stuck in the Medicine Den, clinging to life. She didn't get much rest anymore, and when she had finally drifted into slumber, she wished for dreams of better times. Her request was not granted. Instead, it was her, running. All she did was run in these dreams, but she was chasing things. She chased her mother before she fell out of view, off the rocks and into the roaring waters below. She chased her brother, who disappeared beneath the ground with a deafening thump. Finally, she chased her father, who always felt just out of reach.

Suddenly though, everything began changing. Ashfall skidded to a stop as the form of her father disappeared, and the sun which had been high above her turned to darkness. It felt as if the whole world got darker and darker, an oppressive fog that felt heavy and claustrophobic. Trees, twisted and knotted, rose to encircle her, the grass beneath her paws turning to sandy soil. Finally, her one blue eye turned to the sky.

The stars were gone.

Torn ears swiveled to the sound of another, and Ashfall turned to meet the green eyes of a stranger, observing her. Her own eye narrowed as she observed him in turn. A grin formed on the stranger's face, and only made the molly think harder. This place felt familiar, yet as if her experience was being twisted and tainted. It felt like when she had gone to Starclan on her Moonstone journey. The same amount of ethereal nature, as if nothing was real, but everything was real. After a moment, she opened her maw, airing her suspicions immediately. "This is the Dark Forest, isn't it? Not simply another one of my nightmares, feels too real. I'm assuming you have something to tell me Slatethoat? Why else would I be here." Tone cold, she continued looking around the area she was in. It was encircled, how had this cat even gotten her here? Could the Dark Forest simply... summon cats?

He smirked, a devilish sight, "You're perceptive, even without your depth perception. I knew I chose well." Slatethroat's easy flickering of his tail seemed to become more quickened in pace, excited in nature. He unsheathed his claws and glanced down at their gleam, studying them as he spoke for a moment, "I come here with an offer. Both my life and afterlife are devoted to the success of Windclan. I simply want to see you and your loved ones survive this leafbare, to grow in strength against your enemies. Have you ever considered how far you can push your own strengths? That perhaps if Windclan lay claim to more territory your beloved wouldn't be dying in a stale, cold nest?"

Although his words were low, prying, as he looked up at her they brimmed with a genuine sympathy. Medicine cats were as useless as they always had been - lacking in strength and praying that all would be make right by the self-righteous cats in the stars. Starclan had condemned him with a prophecy, Sageleaf had turned against him to stand with the warrior ancestors who had condemned him. It made his stomach twist with unfathomable anger. But that was not the point right now, no, instead he needed to influence the life of a cat who still lived among those in the forest. Ashfall would be his paws, and he her guide. He'd paused to let her think, to digest the words, but found himself prodding further.

"Ask me whatever you like. Like I said, I'm here to help. I wish to lend you my strength. You just need to be willing to take it."

Ashfall's eye narrowed further as Slatethroat's claws unsheathed, and she prepared herself for the worst as she listened to his words. He was excited that she was here, happy with himself no doubt. She was a watcher, an observer, and she observed this cat no differently from the rest. Her cold facade dropped for a moment as he mentioned her nest-bound love, and there was a flash of fangs as Ashfall growled. She moved closer to Slatethroat, her own claws unsheathing. A threat, but nothing more. She didn't care for his words, she didn't want his sympathy... but she did want what he offered more than anything else in the world. A way to save Daystar... Dayspring...

She couldn't bring her voice to anything above a whisper for a moment, anything louder threatened to break her in two. "The season has been harsh. She-" Ashfall was able to regain her composure finally, voice rising once again. "She will pull through. She was pushed into leadership when Lilacstar was a coward, she'll survive." The molly limped to the side, examining her surroundings further as she continued speaking. "You would lend your strength to a broken warrior. Hah. There is nothing I want more than to help her, but there is little chance of helping her with prey alone now. So here's my question," Her eye focused back on Slatethroat, cold once more. "Would you give me the power to kill my father, despite him worshipping the Dark Forest? I don't want to worship the Dark Forest myself... but I also want to break him. Starclan may not forgive me for this, but if it means I can kill my father over and over again here, nothing will stop me." It felt awful, to ask for the power to kill her father. Yet she knew that this kind of power would do nothing to save her mate. Her mate's fate was up to Starclan... but her father's could now be up to her. His punishment could finally be executed. "I want to punish him. I want to punish everyone who would hurt my clan, who would commit crimes against it. Would your power give me the ability to enact those punishments?"

Her threat, her fire, it was enticing. As Ashfall moved closer, the tom didn't move a muscle. Slatethroat was silent as the warrior spoke, letting her words fill the deadened air. Green eyes grazed her pelt and studied her features. The fact this was Dawnhawk's kit made this all the more thrilling feat. To see a cat with such passionate hatred for the tom who had sired them was strangely intoxicating. Ashfall's allegiances went beyond the boundaries of the blood that ran in her veins - making them a wholly wild and rather unpredictable thing. It was why she was perfect for molding into his disciple.

His tail flickered back and forth for a moment or two, and his expression was one of thought. Finally, his silken meow filled their little corner of the rotting world once again, "I have no doubt she will pull through, but I'd hate to see such a swift recovery whisked away because of weaker clans nipping at your heels like wild mutts. I wish to show you how to turn and claw the self-assured power off their crusted maws. The only thing that truly makes a warrior broken is themselves. You're better than that. I never want to hear you say that again." And he meant it. For as deadly of a poison as the late tom's words were, meant to entrap his victim, there were just enough flickers of honestly to make him appear wholly genuine. She would only be weak if she let herself.

"What I show you will help you accomplish everything you need to accomplish. You will have the favor and the backing of every cat that lives in the Dark Forest. This strength isn't just mine, it is ours." Slatethroat insisted, waving his tail in a grand gesture to the world behind him. The injustice of the creatures that had been dismissed her, like himself, to rot for their various desires. Starclan determined who was fit and who wasn't, the self-righteous fox-hearts were the ones who deserved to be crushed. He wanted to snarl just thinking about it. But she had asked about Dawnhawk. Of course, it made sense she would want to know.

"The most resounding revenge is betrayal. Show him what you are, what you can be, make yourself a worthy ally, and then... when the moment is right when he praises you for all you are and all you have become that is the moment. That is when you strike him down and watch the rage die out from his maw and the fire leave his eyes. But that all starts here, Ashfall. So, what do you say? Shall we begin?" His head tipped back instead of to the side with his question, an expectation, an invitation. This was the beginning. They were only just getting started.

Ashfall only listened. She had no more words to say, nothing more to add. She simply took it all in... this was really happening, wasn't it? She had been full of bravado at the start, but this was also the place that had been forbidden, the Dark Forest... it was something that Starclan wanted them to forget... wasn't it? If they were all just good little soldiers, then it'd be ok.

Then the offer was given, a way to do what she wanted. A way to keep her clan safe, to wipe that dog from the face of the territories.

Sorry Copperfox, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. Should've gone to someone with a better heart.

Her distrustful eye continued resting on Slatethroat, tail tip twitching as she thought. Finally, Ashfall opened her maw, speaking one word in answer to his question.

"Yes."