Facing the Nightmare [closed]

Beechfang collapsed into her nest, exhaustion from the previous day's events quickly pulling into sleep. She'd become familiar with the routine, blinking awake into an unfamiliar den with unfamiliar cats sleeping around her. The sounds of peaceful, rhythmic breathing should've been a comfort. Maybe if these had been clanmates, cats she knew and loved, it would've been. All Beechfang knew was that they were unfamiliar. The scent wasn't Skyclan, and this was not her nest at all. It was wrong. All wrong.

A storm raged outside the den walls, the heavy drumbeat of rain pounding against the roof of the den. A flash of bright lightning made her flinch, curling tighter against herself as her ears flattened and her fur fluffed out instinctively. Panic made Beechfang's chest feel tight, the physical Beechfang in the real world shifting uncomfortably in her nest. Her fur had fluffed out too, but anyone who had shared a den with the former medicine cat for any length of time was accustomed to it. Accustomed to the thrashing, too. Peaceful sleep had been an infrequent occurrence even before she'd been struck down at fourtrees. Only they hadn't shared a den with her then. Perhaps it was simply something to be expected at this point. As natural as breathing was, someone in Skyclan was having nightmares. It was normal. Bad dreams happened to everyone.

Just a dream, just a dream. That's all it was. Starclan reminding her that they sucked, that they were petty and didn't care about the plights of the living at all. That was all it was.

The crack of thunder sounded as if it were right above. Beechfang curled tighter in the not-her-nest, eyes closed. If she could will herself into waking up she'd be fine. Only she couldn't seem to shake herself from the nightmare's grasp this time.

"Quite the storm out there, huh?"

The large, dark figure of a cat swept through the entrance of the den, stepping past the twisted form of those sleeping. She walked with a routine certainty, like she'd traced the pawsteps towards what must have been her nest countless times. As it so happened, she settled comfortably into the bed of moss closest to Beechfang, taking her time in folding her legs under her chest, tail wrapping up against her flank. Her thick coat was untouched by the tempest raging outside the den walls; the only indication that she had been outside at all were the shards of ice gripping her pelt, frozen especially thickly around her neck and the lines of her sheeks.

Golden eyes blinked slowly as she regarded the unfamiliar cat trembling beside her. Shrikestep didn't recognize her– she didn't recognize this stretch of territory, either. She'd been drawn here, eagerly following the pulse of hot blood like a hound, had let her paws guide her out of her own mist-swathed woods. How many of you are there? She wondered idly as the coiling fog gave way to beating rain. One is a surprise enough. Am I so lucky to catch two half-wit apprentices?

The pale she-cat wasn't an apprentice, unfortunately. Much too large to be one. Shrikestep's ears had lowered at that observation, a little saddened; but prey was prey, songbird or hawk.

Finally comfortable, Shrikestep stretched her jaws in a yawn, rolling her shoulders to really sink into her position. She had to admit, despite the thunder that crashed overhead, this was comforting; as comforting as any place here could be, she supposed. It had been ages since she'd been able to seek the respite of a proper nest, and she would use her time here greedily.

"You look like you're having an especially terrible time with it," Shrikestep went on steadily, even when Beechfang had yet to respond. She was practiced, comfortable with talking to herself. She would prattle on, whether her partner chose to talk back or not. "Not a fan of thunder, are we? I understand. Not really, but... it sure is disruptive." A purr rolled through her as she tucked her chin into the soft down of her chest. She wasn't entirely sure how to approach this one... Hollyshine had made it all too easy for her: proud, ambitious, horribly insecure, young and lost on top of it all. This cat, though... older, and though all Shrikestep had seen of her was a trembling ball of fur, the waves of fear and agitation rolling off her spoke nothing of a cat desperate for approval or simple companionship.

"Well, I'm not busy. I can talk you through the weather, if you'd like! I don't mind staying up." Her voice was smooth and warm, and the soft snores and rustling of the other shadowed figures crowding the den echoed her. An ear twitched, golden eyes glittered with hungry interest, and she tipped her head, ice crackling with the movement. Even if she didn't get anything out of this, she couldn't be disappointed. Conversation with something other than her own lurking shadow was always welcome. Learning the drama and secrets of the living was just as enjoyable.

At first, Beechfang didn't even hear the voice above the crack of thunder, not lifting her head to even look as she felt the presence of another cat entering the den. It had nothing to do with her, she was sure, and besides, acknowledging it would only prolong her time here.

Still, tufted, feathered ears twitched at the noise the other cat made. A voice sounded close by... Definitely addressing her. Starclan, come to taunt her? Pick at her insecurities? Blame and lay judgment? Her single yellow-green eye opened, narrow gaze turning toward the unfamiliar she-cat, anger bubbling below the surface despite her terror. Her fur stayed poofed up, seemingly unable to lay flat.

No starlight shimmered in the she-cat's fur. Even though it must have been raining heavily outside, she wasn't wet, save for shards of ice around her neck and face. She'd thought it was rain at least... Shouldn't it have been? The air was too warm for ice. Dreams could be strange like that.

"Thunder?" A low scoff escaped her, head turning slightly to reveal the thin, branching scars that weaved from the top of the neck towards her shoulder. The scars along her foreleg were probably hidden by how Beechfang was curled, but the glimpse should've been enough. "Why would the stars let me have something that simple? I wasn't even the one who fought at that gathering, they could've taken their anger out on that filthy Riverclanner instead." She spat, the fear and anger spilling over. "Foxhearts won't even let me sleep in peace! I've been having this dream for over a moon and it's not even my camp or clanmates I'm surrounded by." Beechfang vented, uncaring of what the she-cat might've thought. If she was here to pass judgment, Beechfang was fresh out of rat tails to give.

"Who are you, anyways?" The she-cat that had claimed the nest next to hers had been the first cat to break the repetitive cycle of this nightmare, and while Beechfang would've much rather have woken up in her real nest, she'd welcome the distraction of another cat just the same. Anything to prevent her sole focus being on the lightning that flashed outside the den.

The strange cat slowly unfurled herself, and almost immediately Shrikestep recoiled at the sight of her scars. "My." She breathed softly, gaze flitting this way and that as she took in every inch of exposed skin. Her jaw parted to speak, but Beechfang was quicker, ire boiling in her response. Shrikestep's teeth clacked as she closed her mouth, whiskers twitching.

There was a beat of quiet as the large she-cat observed her company. Her eyes roved over the scars, down the tight coil of her spine, and back to her single eye flashing with frustration. Thunder cracked, and a bolt of lightning followed almost immediately after, lighting the mouth of the den. An ear flicked towards the sound, but the small motion was the only indication Shrikestep had even heard the bang.

She tipped her head, a look of kit-like curiosity blooming across her features. There was nothing terrible or lethal in her posture, her expression; she looked earnest, genuinely wondering and interested. "This does seem like a terrible dream to have. I know I would hate to wake up here every night." She chuckled, head shaking slowly, almost wistfully. "Well, there are no stars in my fur." She had never realized until she voiced it that it was a sore point. Momentarily, her body tensed, but she just as swiftly relaxed again. "Consider me a friend, then, because I'm not here to torment you. I'm only bored and lonely." Her tail curled, feathery fur brushing against the down of her flank. The large molly breathed in between sentences; the smell of rain and dank, churned earth came to her, but over that, the scents of fresh dirt, of feathers and stale leaf-litter, snow and stone mixed in with the sweet scent of blood and life. Her gaze brightened, and she grinned, wide and toothy. "My name is Shrikestep. Are you from SkyClan, by chance? Forgive me if I'm wrong, it's been some time for me... I'm good friends with one of your warriors. I've met her at your border with ThunderClan, quite a few times."

Shrikestep hummed, clicking her teeth together again, with purpose this time. She seemed to be rolling an idea around in her mind, and after a moment of droning and teeth-chattering, she spoke up again: "What happened to you at a Gathering, of all places? How did you get RiverClan involved, of all Clans?" She snickered, then added softly, seriously, "Whatever it was, it wasn't fair at all, isn't that right? Maybe doing something about it would bring you some peace."

"Ugly, aren't they?" A dry laugh escaped Beechfang at the she-cat's reaction. "It's been moons and there are days it's still agonizing." She flinched involuntarily as the entrance of the den was lit up once more. The other she-cat only twitched an ear. Beechfang wished she could've ignored it that well.

"Yes, Skyclan." Some days Beechfang wasn't sure if it was fortune or misfortune, truthfully. If ever there was a tragedy to befall the forest, it would hit Skyclan. That was simply the way of things. For better or worse, they were family, and she would do everything in her power to see her clan prosper despite it. "I'm not sure why I dreamed myself into Thunderclan's camp, especially on a night like this." Must've been stress.

She tipped her head curiously at the stranger's words, "Which of my clanmates?" This was a dream, of course... But the stranger- Thunderclanner? Didn't have stars in her fur. Whatever clanmate of hers she'd met, it must've been in the waking world, though she certainly wasn't anyone Beechfang knew. Of course, she tried to avoid paying much attention to the other clans beyond the few friends she had. Why should she, when Skyclan was the only important thing? Aside from whatever Dawnhawk was up to, she had no interest in the other clans for the most part.

Oh, she didn't know the story? The she-cat was younger than she looked, then, or simply didn't care about politics that didn't involve Thunderclan? "She inserted herself into something she had no business in, then wanted to cry and play victim. It wasn't our fault that she was on a battlefield and got hurt, Wolfstar didn't even know she was a medicine cat apprentice at the time. Lilacstar knew I was a medicine cat and still attacked me, but Windclan and Riverclan can do no wrong, apparently. One of my clanmates decided to smack her for whining to the whole gathering about it. Hardly a scratch, from what I was told. Of course, Starclan went for the cat sitting in a tree rather than the idiots who actually caused the trouble. For once I wasn't going to, as much as Cloverheart would've deserved more claws in her fur." She continued to rant, tone every bit as frustrated as it always had been on that subject. It was foxdung, pure foxdung! "Windclan could've listened to our warnings and not sheltered a kit-murdering traitor, and Riverclan still defended them. She would've never gotten hurt if their leaders weren't fools. But Starclan decided to lecture me about it. I was only trying to keep my clan safe!" And she would keep her clan safe by any means necessary. Windclan didn't deserve the moors they inhabited at all with how they acted. They were cowards, and Riverclan was just as cowardly for supporting them. Beechfang hardly noticed the glint in the other she-cat's eyes or the way she clicked her teeth together in thought. She was far too wrapped up in her own thoughts. And besides, this was just a dream. If anyone heard her sleep-talking in the waking world, well, it wasn't anything they didn't know. This she-cat and Beechfang would wake up and wouldn't remember a thing.

"Do what, exactly? Make sure they're in a hole in the ground? The stars won't hold anyone accountable unless it benefits them. I'm glad to no longer be a medicine cat if that's what we're supposed to serve." She scoffed. Ah, but she... Had gone off on a rant, hadn't she? "Sorry... You're not here to have your ears talked off, are you?"

"Hollyshine," Shrikestep answered simply. She wondered if the little warrior had spoken of her to anybody– had she been gossiping with her Clanmates about the odd warrior she met between ThunderClan? Starting rumors about eccentric cats that did crazy things like offer to split prey, to train other Clans's apprentices like their own? It was an amusing line of thinking, but the dark molly didn't have long to dwell on it. Beechfang went on, her explanation laced with pain and anger. Is all of SkyClan this talkative? I could probably get Bloodstar to drop all nine lives at my paws if I asked nicely. She still hadn't gotten used to that name.

She listened quietly, digesting every word. SkyClan's former medicine cat, marred by hideous scars and holding dangerous grudges. That was odd– she'd never met a medicine cat so... bitter. They always seemed so placid and, for most intents, outright boring. This one was certainly fun though. And something about a kit-murderer? The more I hear about them, the more of a mess SkyClan's become. Another look towards Beechfang, and Shrikestep's whiskers twitched with realization. Oh. I wonder if this is little bird's bear-hunting aunt. SkyClan probably didn't have too many former medicine cats still living to choose from. That would make things especially fun.

Beechfang's ranting slowed, a pawful of sarcastic questions and an unexpected apology. "You're fine. I've got time." Shrikestep assured, a wide, toothy grin gracing her features. "It's a shame, that that happened to you. The stars have never had good judgment, you know. You could change that though, couldn't you?" She tipped her head to the side, kit-like interest shining in her golden eyes. Thunder rolled again, but it was quieter this time; growing distant. "I mean, you can't change StarClan themselves– hard to teach dead cats new manners, I suppose, but... well, what's stopping you from correcting the rest?" She blinked, slow, and not once did her smile falter. "I know good warriors aren't supposed to leave bodies without good cause, but if that RiverClanner is still out there crying victim to someone and causing trouble for you... I don't see why you should have to let that continue. Now, I'm not saying you have to kill her, but a few new scars will knock sense into most cats. It might not keep her from whining to the rest of her fish-brained Clanmates, but maybe it would scare her away from you. It won't undo what she's done, but then at least you could pass the rest of your life in peace, hm?" Shrikestep turned her attention towards the entrance of the den, watching the dark wall of rain. Slowly, it was lightening. The pounding against the den's roof was getting gradually gentler. "Why have you been waiting around for StarClan's righteous justice? You have claws and fangs and a mind of your own. Do it yourself. Stop expecting the dead to do the work for you; you know they won't get their paws dirty. Who cares about losing a bit of blood? It builds character." She said it so plainly, as if Beechfang should have done it long ago. One short laugh echoed from her as she turned back towards her companion.

"I can even help, if you feel you need it. Send her running right into your paws, like hunting hares." The dark she-cat laughed again, ready to wave the idea away as a callous joke if the SkyClanner bristled from her offer. But if she accepted it... Shrikestep's eyes narrowed, studying, and her grin thinned into a more moderate, less leering expression. "I haven't gotten your name yet, you know. I don't just make these offers to any cat, so I might as well know who I'm talking to!" She was eager to hear what this cat's name would be; eager to confirm if her theory about being related to Hollyshine was true. That would be fun... having them both wrapped up in training. If SkyClan's already doing terrible, there's no harm in making things a little worse.

Lightning lit the camp beyond again. The sound of rain was the only thing to occupy the stillness for a solid pawful of heartbeats before the thunder finally cracked.

"Would you come outside with me, if I asked?" Shrikestep hummed absently, almost talking to herself. "If you can weather the storm out there, you could do anything I– or any cat –asked, couldn't you? Sure, it's just a dream... but maybe it'll teach you something. I want to show you that you'll be fine. We won't let that happen to you again."

"Ah, she's my niece." Beechfang responded, a hint of genuine warmth in her voice at the mention of Hollyshine. "She's a good cat, if a bit naïve. She's young, I suppose, but I still worry for her." She didn't seem anywhere as naïve as Dawnfeather was, but Beechfang could still worry. The last thing she wanted to see was more of her family members hurt.

"I'm trying not to cause trouble, myself. I finally have the opportunity to be a warrior, the last thing I want is to mess that up." Still... "You don't know how tempting it is, though. She'd deserve it." Riverclan, Windclan, they were all the same. None of them deserved to walk the forest.

"The dead want nothing more than to add to their ranks." She snorted, "If the stars aren't being judgmental pricks, and inflaming tensions, they aren't doing anything. Of course, they're hypocrites, if the living do anything of the sort we get sneered at." There was nothing but disdain for Starclan within Beechfang's voice. That was all she had ever known from them, and all that the forest was ever likely to know of Starclan. They'd never been helpful without plunging the forest into chaos, and as far as Beechfang was concerned, they would never change.

"I'm Beechfang." She added. The new name had been a good thing, one less reminder of the miserable life she had led as a medicine cat. "I don't believe I caught your name...?" The peal of thunder seemed to be growing distant, though her ears still slid back in discomfort at the idea she proposed.

"I know I need to get over that fear eventually." She muttered, tail flicking restlessly. It was a dream, but... She shook her head, taking a long moment to consider the she-cat's words. All the while her tail twitched back and forth. Her gaze flicked towards the entrance of the den, where the flashes of lightning and the crack of thunder weren't so close together as they had been, indicating that the storm was moving on. "I suppose it would be better to start in a dream rather than the waking world, wouldn't it?" Less chance of injury or death, or so logic told her, anyways.

Oh, so I was right, then. This is her infamous aunt. Shrikestep's tail curled as the she-cat declared Hollyshine her niece. This will certainly be fun if you come back to see me, too. It was a fight, to keep her the glint of fangs out of her growing smile.

With an exaggerated huff, the dark molly rose to her paws, letting her tail unfurl from her side and sweep low through the nest she'd curled into. "Not to be an... instigator or anything, but if you don't get caught, who's going to punish you?" She mewed steadily, tipping her head as she looked down at Beechfang. "Sure, StarClan will see, and they'll be mad, but," her voice broke briefly there, a laugh rippling from her throat, "you don't care much about their opinion, anyway. If you don't kill her, then you haven't done anything wrong." She shrugged. How many cats in StarClan had raked their claws through the pelts of those who wronged them? What were they going to do, turn Beechfang away and send her to the Dark Forest for defending herself? Well...

Shrikestep blinked down at her company. Apparently, they already have.

Unceremoniously, she shook out her coat, sending shards of ice splintering across the den. "Shrikestep," she answered simply, tail swaying through the bed of moss. "Happy to make your acquaintance, Beechfang! Now come on." Shrikestep jerked her head, and without waiting, ducked outside the den.

The rain had subsided, mostly, the torrent from before giving way to a steadier rhythm. The thinning drops rolled down Shrikestep's fur, not unlike water rolling off a duck. Lightning flashed, lighting up the distant sky; other than that, the heavens were dark, nearly pitch-black and cloudless.

"Follow me whenever you're ready, Beechfang," she called, excitement in her voice. "It looks like the storm is moving away! You won't have to worry about a thing. Come on, come sit with me. If you can do that, I'm sure you can do anything once you wake up again."

"More mad than they already are? What are they going to do, strike me down with lightning again?" Beechfang snorted. Maybe they'd finish the job of killing her properly. Death couldn't be worse than the long recovery that she'd had to go through... Was still going through, as a sharp spike of phantom pain in her missing eye so helpfully reminded her.

Shrikestep... A tentative smile flickered across Beechfang's face at the introduction and she nodded. At her telling her to follow, Beechfang hesitantly stood, eyeing the entrance to the den with trepidation. It was still thundering out, but it had grown more distant as the pair had talked. That, at least, meant lightning was unlikely to strike too close... In theory.

The sky at fourtrees had been perfectly clear before that lightning had struck.

Her ears flattened at the intrusive thought, but Shrikestep's words had been right. This was something she needed to face head-on. In the waking world newleaf would come soon enough (not that it felt like it with the bitter cold) and that meant frequent rainstorms. But this was a dream and the worst that could happen was waking up, right?

Hesitantly, Beechfang began to pick her way past sleeping cats, following Shrikestep. She hadn't recognized any of their pelts, though she supposed it was unimportant anyways. Just her mind filling in details that would logically be there. At the threshold of the den entrance, she hesitated again. To an onlooker it might've just appeared that she was lingering in the warmth the den offered before heading out into the rain, though the unease in her expression told a different story.