entertain us [c]

With Hollyshine now a prisoner of the order, Aoife suddenly had more work to do. And by 'work', it was more carefully watching the warrior with narrow eyes as she went around doing her jobs, always wary of the stranger in her camp. She knew it would come in handy in the future, but something about having the enemy so close to home put her on edge. Either way, she kept her mouth shut and carried on. Unfortunately, the prisoner did need feeding occasionally. If the whole idea was to keep her alive until she was of better use not to be, it meant she used up precious prey supplies that were already dwindling thanks to poor hunting the cold.

Since Aoife, as the only guard, was pretty much the only one always in camp, she had sort of taken it upon herself to also be Hollyshine's guard. It was probably expected anyway, so it was nothing that would make her stand out. She had taken to waiting until the prey pile was the fullest she'd seen it, and then purposely comb through it for the most eager pice of prey to give to the Skyclanner. If she was going to use food stock, no way was it going to be the good parts. A slightly disheveled moss hung from her mouth by the tail as she padded towards the calico and threw it down in front of her. "Your food." She said shortly. Sure, the prey was edible, just not great.

Normally, she would turn around and walk away. After the battle with the two Skyclan warriors, Aoife's head had been spinning from all the revelations. Her brain told her that staying loyal to her father would always be the best option, the right one. But something just felt... off. Aether's constant nattering about skinning Hollyshine certainly hadn't helped. But part of her still wanted to know more. Aoife has always cared a lot about her kin, but now she was starting to be met with difficulties in that - what defined her family? Did her protection extend to her family in Skyclan or Thunderclan siblings? Surely if she didn't defend her younger half-siblings, Torn should fall into the same category?

And this was exactly why she'd been trying to avoid thinking about it. Against all her common sense, she settled herself about a fox-length away facing her cousin, head rested on her paws. Maybe she would talk to her. At least that was what she hoped.

Shaky and stubborn, for a long time Holly didn’t really believe it was real.

Not right away. Waking up, dazed and dirty and fur sticky with dried blood — wounds untended to — it felt like a dream. But the kind that were hazy with dread and maybe made you sick (not that you told anyone) because… they just didn’t make sense.

And it doesn’t make sense, she maintained, trying to quell the low-lying panicky static around her. Like if she said it enough, it would prove to not be true. It doesn’t.

But being beaten and tired, hardly able to walk… and surrounded by the sharp, hostile presence of unfamiliar cats... even a really little kit could see it. She was in the rogue camp. And Holly shouldn’t be here — she shouldn’t! But she was. And the memory, unbidden, of seeing her aunt turning away kept coming back — just before the coon-face and Holly’s lighter, long-furred cousin surrounded her. And tried to take my face off.

She was going to be irritated about that — and fiercely! (‘Cause no one was allowed to beat her up!) She really was. And... soon.

When she didn’t feel so sick and dizzy.

She spent the next days in an feverish half-sleep, willing the sight of Dawnhawk around her to not be real — and the many, many grown rogues. (More than just Ugly Coon-face and Maybe-Cousin.) She bravely ignored everything — most especially what it meant — but even Holly couldn’t deny it, truly. Not when the molly that’s supposedly her cousin lurked on the edges, watching her.

And not feeding her. Until she did. (But Holly felt too exhausted to complain.)

I should hate her, Holly thought. It would make sense. But when her cousin finally came close again — to toss her food — she just… didn’t. The mouse was stiff and tiny and half-mangled, but she hardly remembered eating it at all — only the taste on her tongue — and immediately felt less like death.

The world seemed less hazy.

I guess you’re real, she acknowledged reluctantly, her paws on the cold, barren ground. The food made her more alert, at least. Enough to look over and see her rogue cousin, not a fox-length away. She looks like family. They all did — it made her head hurt. The eyes and the fur and just… she was calico too!

“So… did your mom have all of you?” came the first semi-coherent thing in her brain  — pure curious kit-thought. “At once? ‘Cause I count like six.”

Maybe more. But Holly hasn’t really been in her right mind. It bugged her, though… “I’ve got two sisters, and a brother. But we’re not the same age or anything.”

Clearly a blow to the head and lack of food had messed with Hollyshine, unless she was always like this. And if she was, Aoife pitied her clanmates. "Ten. There used to be ten of us, all in one litter." She said, without moving her head of her paws and still staring slightly into the distance, down towards the ground. "But then we all grew up - some we lost, others left temporarily." At least she hoped those in Thunderclan were temporary absences.

She hated to admit it, but it was nice to talk to someone new, who she didn't know every secret of already. Where there was something to learn, even if she would have no use for the information. 

"What about the rest of your family, the more distant parts?" She asked, trying not to sound too curious. "Like the other cat you were with, your aunt?" Aoife couldn't help but be curious about the rest of her family, as expansive as it seemed to be.