down to the depths [for shrike]

It was like waking from sleep. With a jolt, Hollyshine tried to move — but everything in her hurt. Tears welled, as she remembered where she was (foxing Thunderclan border), but it… was dark now. And misty.

The tortoiseshell was gone.

Her muscles didn’t yet ache, but her wounds hurt — and bled, still. One aching paw lifted to touch, with a wince, and came away wet. She was afraid to open her eye — her face stung fiercely — but it wasn’t gummed. Hollyshine even felt the fading thump, thump of her heart, like the battle had hardly finished. Is that why she was still bleeding? But it was over.

She beat me, Hollyshine thought, dizzy and not-unlike when she’d come home from driving off the rogues. Her face had been torn open then, leaking blood. Muddy said it was shock. There was blood on her now too, none of it sticky yet. And Hollyshine dimly recognized that… she should go home. Right. She didn’t kill me. Hollyshine shouldn’t stay around and let her, or anyone, finish the job.

“Right,” but she didn’t move. Numbly, she just stared off into the mist. She hadn’t seen it for some time. Sometimes, secretly, Hollyshine felt it was just a dream, like it had to be. But then she recalled piercing yellow eyes.

Nothing heralded the molly's appearance, no dull sound of approaching pawsteps or call to announce herself. She simply was: the mist parted, and Shrikestep was suddenly there, large figure looming at Hollyshine's side.

"Well hello, kit."

Shrikestep's meow was smooth and warm as she regarded the smaller she-cat, tipping her head to the side as she took her in. Before anything else, she was impressed that the little bird had come back. Despite any of her hopes, she'd been expecting to return to her eternity of dreary silence. But despite anything that would have made sense, Hollyshine had made her graceless reappearance. And:

"You look like you've been sticking your nose into badger hollows. Did you find those bears?" Shrikestep's teeth chattered against a laugh, a shudder running through jaw to spine to push her fur to stand on end. Her little apprentice hadn't died, had she? Marked by fresh clawmarks, rivulets of hot-dark blood smeared through her patched pelt. Maybe little Hollyshine had met some terrible end, doomed now to wander these murky woods at Shrikestep's heels.

The former queen's whiskers shivered. The thought of her charge lurking near ThunderClan's border, wide-eyed and waiting for a familiar shape to materialize...

Intense eyes flicked over Hollyshine again, studying. A burst of laughter rolled through her not unlike thunder, sudden and echoing against the wall of fog.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh, kit, but what are you doing all the way out here, looking like that?" The resounding laughter died into a thin chuckle, then a light purr. "What, were you looking for me? Eager to take me up on the training I offered you?" Toothy grin fell into a forced frown, her best attempt at faking sympathy. "Bad luck? Did one of my Clanmates catch you before I could? That's a shame." Shrikestep settled onto her haunches, thick-furred tail whisking to-and-fro before wrapping restlessly around her paws. "Aren't little cats like you supposed to be watched carefully? Not that you can't handle yourself– oh, I'm sure you can look after yourself just fine –but... Tsk. At least I know how to look after my little ones."

Hollyshine had been staring off into the mist, hurting and dazed, when suddenly she wasn’t alone. She might’ve flinched — if it weren’t for the voice. (Maybe she still should’ve.) “...Shrikestep?”

The warrior she’d met before, who felt partially like Holly going crazy, had a rich, smooth voice — a full laugh. Sharp yellow-gold eyes. And it really was her. She’s surprised to see me, Holly could tell. Which was unfair, and... and... Shrike had a lot to say.

“It wasn’t bears,” Hollyshine said, voice tinged with accusation; the rest was hurt. “I was waiting for you.”

The barking laughter made her confused — what was so funny? — but it also just felt... really awful. And all the assumptions... was it that obvious? Holly forced herself to sit, feeling tiny and weak. Shrikestep’s smile had fallen, at least. Maybe seeing that Holly really felt terrible. She wouldn’t laugh at me for being hurt… Or wouldn’t she? Shrikestep thought Holly could be a great warrior…

She suddenly felt a desire to prove she still was. And it… these wounds didn’t mean anything.

“I — I’m a warrior now, Shrikestep. I can handle myself. One of your clanmates just jumped me; it wasn’t fair,” she said in her defense, hackles bristling at the thought of the fox’s face: teeth bared, eyes gray and malicious. Her left eye — still bloodied, barely able to see from — flinched closed. “She was awful.”

Awful enough to try to take out her eye. Her head was starting to ache, as her heart slowed, but she still mustered to energy to explain. “I didn’t even go far — I told her it wasn’t like there’s any prey on your territory anyway! But... she didn’t care. I was only waiting for you,” Holly recounted, feeling like... like she’d been blamed for nothing. Cats from different clans obviously did what Shrikestep had suggested — even Newtspring did it! Him and Starlingfire, or whatever his name was. It was what reminded Hollyshine, that... maybe Shrike had been real.

And clearly, she was. Very real, with paws and a tail. Dangerous — more dangerous-feeling than Holly remembered, but maybe that was how prickly and vulnerably she felt. But this... this was her friend, who wanted to help her. And she is real, she repeated in her head.

At the announcement of her new status as a warrior, Shrikestep's grin returned, wide and all fangs. She was quiet as the little molly told her story, but her smile remained, lighting her eyes with something excited. ...or with something dangerous. In the dark light, shards of ice framing the hard lines of her face and tendrils of mist wreathing her shoulders, it looked like she was leering down at Hollyshine.

Predatory, almost. As if Shrikestep was going to sink her claws right into her neck.

But then she leaned closer, close enough to touch her nose to Hollyshine's, and any menacing appearances melted into simple excitement, her smile warm and too-enthusiastic for the situation. "Oh, I'm so sorry about that, little bird. I told you, some of my Clanmates are just brutes! Just brutes. Unbelievable, I know... but look! I found you, didn't I?" A purr rumbled through her, loud and deep as she pulled away. Hollyshine herself was making this easy– other cats were complicating things a bit. If she lost this kit because some apparently-starving ThunderClanner couldn't control their temper–

"I know, I was late. I've just been busy back in camp, see. But I'm here now. I've found you, and you're not at all bleeding out. You're safe with me." And Hollyshine would be. Even if she had to beat that sense of safety into her with claws and fangs– she would be. Shrikestep would raise her to fight better, harder, to really be able to take care of herself beyond what her Clan could do for her. To be stronger, smarter, and if she got really lucky, dependent. Always waiting for her, lurking around the border and praying to find this dark wood again, eager to seek the older warrior's company and approval. Her thick tail curled over her back at the thought. "Did you tell her you were looking for me? Ah, that doesn't matter too much." She had to admit, though, the thought of Hollyshine swinging wildly against bloodthirsty claws, crying out that she was only looking for a friend that didn't exist was amusing.

In equal measure, she thought about Hollyshine swinging wildly against bloodthirsty claws, crying out that she was only looking for a friend. SkyClan had raised a cat named Bloodstar, but was ThunderClan low enough to maul any young warrior that they came across? To maul her little warrior? Shrikestep bristled. She'd only been telling tales to frighten the kit, but maybe the forest-dwelling Clan really had become terrible brutes.

Sighing, Shrikestep briefly pressed her nose to Hollyshine's cheek, just under the fresh wounds that lie over her eye. The action was gentle and soft, a simple inspection of the bloody marks. "You certainly fought hard, didn't you? Well, that's what really matters. All warriors lose eventually, and it's better to do it while you're young. I know you did well out there. I'm here now, I'll look after you until you think you can get back to camp. Or one of your patrols finds you." A laugh tittered through her. Did Hollyshine still think this was ThunderClan territory, even after being so solidly beaten right on their border? Was she going to sit here, quietly waiting for one of her Clanmates to come valiantly sweeping in to rescue her from evil?

She's not all that smart, is she?

"Why don't you talk to me, how does that sound, kit? I won't bother you with training, not right this heartbeat. Tell me your new name! It's exciting, being a warrior, isn't it? Tell me all about your ceremony, what you've been doing with yourself. Let's not focus too much on that little skirmish of yours. I can correct that later. No one's fighting you here, you're alright. For now, how about we just breathe, and tell you me everything? How does that sound, kit? I'll listen to every word, promise. You'll be alright, just take some time to gather yourself, yeah? We'll worry about that special training later, you're much too tired right now." Hopefully, as bad at keeping her mouth shut as she was, Hollyshine would prattle on about everything important. Little secrets, both personal to her and her Clan as a whole. It was easier, earning a cat's trust and affection, when you knew things about them. Particular things, like:

"I'm sure you really are a good warrior, little bird. Don't look too down on yourself. You said your aunt is covered in scars, isn't she? It's the price you pay for proving yourself." Her voice was soft, a much better expression of sympathy than her poorly-forced frown. Almost, she looked wounded on the SkyClanner's behalf.

Shrikestep leaned forward to rest her chin atop Hollyshine's head, as if welcoming her into a new rite.

Prove yourself to me, she wanted to say. Prove to me you aren't running from the future I promised you after one little skirmish. Show me you want this, to be better. Show me you want to be good.

For a moment after she finished, Hollyshine felt a chill down her spine. And then she looked into Shrike’s eyes.

And—

It was cold. Gripping, numbing cold. Spreading from her heart, likening those yellow eyes to ice, and making the stinging pain sharpen. But then Shrikestep touched her nose to her own, and it abruptly thawed.

I must be dizzier than I thought. Shrike seemed more concerned now, and began to reassure her. She still felt vaguely uneasy, but… that could be everything.

The presence of someone familiar and dangerous… that was comforting, too. Shrikestep could handle anything right now. She flinched at the warrior’s careful inspection, and nodded at her words. Back home, she wouldn’t want anyone to see her like this… but Shrike already had. And still thinks I’m a good warrior.

Her mom would be so worried, and the idea of coming home wounded and bruised again felt… not good.  I want her to be proud, not worried.

Aching and tired, her pride hurting, she pressed her head into Shrikestep’s offer of comfort — feeling a sense of relief at her words. Hollyshine was a tactile cat, too, and her touch felt solid… even if not warm. The molly felt almost cold to the touch.

“You’ll train me?” she mewed after a moment, somewhat hesitant. Not of accepting the offer, but of if Shrikestep had truly meant it. She’d said it like it was a given, but… “To beat them? Can you really fight like that?”

Then she looked down, oblivious to Shrike’s thoughts. “And my name is Hollyshine, now. It’s cool, isn’t it? I really liked it — well, mostly that I made it to warrior. My littermate hasn’t yet — oh, um, that’s Wasppaw. But that’s because her mentor’s really dumb. And because maybe… she doesn’t care as much. I always offered to bring her along with me and Ravenclaw, and I’d train with her every day if she wanted.”

But her sister-twin did not always want to. Which was… okay. She’s still my sister. And she’ll be that no matter what. “Um, sorry, what was I saying again? The ceremony, right. It was good. Bloodstar acknowledged me for my bravery. And…  if nothing else, I am that, right?”

There was an echo of sadness in that, but she convinced herself it was just the pain of her injuries. Hollyshine had more than that, and she knew it! It just… felt a little far away.

“Part of me was afraid have to fight Bloodstar to prove myself,” she added with a little laugh. “And I would’ve, you know? But I didn’t. It’s only an apprentice had to one time, but he was… uh. Different.”

And dead. That made her a bit uncomfortable to think about, even if it hadn’t been anyone’s fault... “He was definitely an idiot, and was rude to Bloodstar, to his face! I… thought he was kind of brave, though. Even if he was a mouse-brain.”

She shifted, unintentionally, caught up in her words — and then her body erupted in sharp pains. “Oww! Sorry...” she breathed in, trying not to move anymore. “Thanks for staying with me. And… y’know, saying all that stuff.”

Slowly, at first, the little tortoiseshell started speaking, and Shrikestep's ears swiveled intently towards her. There was hesitance in her mew, the quiet loss of grace and wounded pride. The darker she-cat's whiskers twitched, and a low hum rumbled through Shrikestep when the molly leaned into her offer of comfort. Quietly, in between sentences, she whispered, "Of course I can train you, little bird. You think cats get as old as I am without learning how to fight well?" There was amusement in her hushed tone, but something dark flickered through her expression.

I wasn't even that old, she thought, bitterly. She wanted to remember her own warrior ceremony– golden and lovely and all of her Clanmates calling her name. But anything more than those hazy, idealistic concepts... she couldn't place it. The soft light of becoming a full member of her Clan, then there were kits, and ice, and...

And now I'm here. Her eyes narrowed, and Shrikestep twisted away slightly; close enough so that the little bird could still lean into her, if she wished. Far enough, so that she could look down at her again, the same studying glint in her eyes as she watched the tortoiseshell speak. I would hate for her to end up here the way I did... And I hardly even did anything wrong. I really will have to look after her, then. Shrikestep blinked. She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted out of the molly: whether she was a pawn to score good favor among the living, or if she really wanted to take her under her wing. Raise her, in a sense. It's not important. Her ears twitched again as she refocused on what the little warrior was saying.

Characteristically, Shrikestep's stony appearance burst into life, all smiling teeth and a kit-like look of awe in her eyes. "Hollyshine is a lovely name! It suits you very nicely," Shrikestep praised, angling her neck to nuzzle the soft fur of her cheek against Hollyshine's head. "See? I told you, little bird, you are brave. That–" she bit against calling Bloodstar a brute, remembering their family ties, and wrinkled her nose, "I mean, if Bloodstar recognizes it too, then I can't be lying, right?" Her voice dropped again, hushed cadence carrying a hint of teasing: "If you had to fight him, I bet you would have won." At least... Shrikestep hoped so. No good cat would kill an apprentice standing for her ceremony; nevermind the fact that she was his granddaughter. The thought of Hollyshine trying to rise up to box against that foxheart sent a genuine shudder through Shrikestep.

"Of course," she murmured, gently, tail swaying through the dank, brittle foliage. "I'll be here as long as you'd like me to. And, you can always come back. I wouldn't waste my time on a cat I didn't have faith in, Hollyshine, and you're perfect. Keep seeing me, and you'll be even better. The whole forest will see you for what you are, and nasty ThunderClan cats will be little more than a burr in your pelt. I promise, little bird."