The Waking Nightmare [OPEN]

Each day Beechfang seemed to get less peaceful sleep than the last, bad dreams had always been a common occurrence for her, from the fire, to the Asylum, to Bloodstar half insane after being released room their clutches. Featherkit, Dawnhawk... And he featured in the overwhelming majority of them in some fashion or another. Some were more vivid than others. Tonight it seemed, the nightmare was vivid. And violent.

Beechfang tossed and turned in her nest, the nearly full moon just barely reaching into the warrior's den. In her sleep the large tabby pawed at the air, face twisting into a snarl as if fighting some invisible opponent. Moonlight glinted off of unsheathed claws, long fur puffed out as it often was.

Beechfang's eye opened, glazed over. She wasn't awake at all, that much was evident as she lashed out at an invisible foe again, claws striking only air to those that shared the den with her. She recoiled as if struck, a hiss escaping her.

All at once she was awake, rolling to her paws awkwardly. Heart pounding, Beechfang's single eye gazed frantically around the den. The nightmare was already fading, though the adrenaline and fear clearly hadn't as she made her way toward the den entrance. The den was just too crowded and she needed out.

The air was frigid outside, and her breath fogged in front of her face as she glared up at the distant moon above. These nightmares were just as much Starclan's fault as they were Dawnhawk's, she was sure of it. Slowly, Beechfang's breathing and heartbeat evened out, and she turned her head, roughly attempting to smooth the ruffled, uneven fur of her shoulder. There was a small cut parting her thick fur, but she paid the blood little mind. She'd have to go through her nest and find that thorn... Once she'd calmed down enough to, anyways.

From the moment of her birth, Chivekit had never been alone. The sole kit born of her mother, Thistletail's litter with Whitepelt, she was always shadowed by one of her parents, as if they were terrified she was disappear if they look away for a hare's breath. At first it was good, all her parents attention to herself, not needing to share it like the others in the nursery. But now, after nearly hitting six moons, it was overbearing. She wanted to be bold, brave, a stand out cat, but how could she do that with such overbearing parents that hovered over her like crows to their chicks.

So she devised a plan, she was going to sneak out of the nursery when everyone was asleep, stick to the shadows and catch herself the biggest, baddest bug. She wasn't stupid, prey was beyond her capabilities but a big bug would show Bloodstar how strong she was, and that she was ready to be an apprentice.

So as the moonlight barely illuminated the camp, Chivekit crawled through a hole she had neatly hidden with a mossball, and came out onto the clearing. Taking care to be not too noisy by stepping on only the fresh pine needles, she focused putting one paw after the paw, carefully, slowly. Completely consumed by the task of being quiet, she didn't realise until too late that she walked into a mass of fur in front of her.

"Omph!"

As Beechfang groomed her shoulders, the adrenaline slowly faded. She was beginning to realize just how tired she was, and the moon wasn't anywhere close to setting, it looked like. Still, she found herself reluctant to go back into the den and try sleeping again.

She needn't have worried about doing that however, the suddenness of a kit walking into her made the former medicine cat jump a little, wide eye staring down at the kit in surprise.

"Bit late to be outside of the nursery, kit." Beechfang mewed, not quite able to keep the gruffness from her tone. The kit was innocent, she knew... Not that things would stay that way for long if Starclan had their way. Kits that could hold onto that innocence past apprenticeship were lucky.

A sigh escaped her as she studied the kit before her. This wasn't one she recognized, though now that was no longer a medicine cat Beechfang tried very hard not to keep up with the going-ons in the nursery or with injuries. She'd had enough of keeping track of all of it for a lifetime, though she didn't go out of her way to avoid the nursery like Smokefeather did.

"What's your name? I'm Beechfang." Talking would surely keep the kit out of whatever trouble they'd been up to, she thought.

Chivekit's first reaction was fear, especially since Beechfang was hardly the most sweet and gentle looking cat. Her little green eyes were drawn particularly to the large scar that seemed to swallow half of Beechfang's face. The little she-kit forced down her squeak of terror, she remembered her mother saying something about it being not nice to judge others after she'd made fun of a fellow nursery mate for their funny walk. Keeping that on the forefront of her mind, she carefully mewed in reply. "My name is Chivekit... Sorry about your face... I mean, not that your face is sorry... Does it hurt?"

She wasn't successful in her attempt to be polite, but the scar was so big and right there!

Beechfang's ears twitched back, though moons of constant stares and whispers made the question a bit easier to control her reaction to. Of course, it was only natural for the kit to feel fear, as much as Chivekit tried to hide it, Beechfang knew better. The kit at least tried to apologize, but Beechfang thought their reaction was one more of innocence rather than the straight meanness that Mountainkit had thrown her way every chance he got. "It doesn't hurt much anymore, no." Some days were easier than others, not that the kit needed to know of the vicious phantom claws that seemed to dig into the old wounds on occasion even now. "What has you up this late?" She asked, anything to steer the conversation away from herself.