March Gathering 2022

It all happened so quickly. One minute he was trying to get to know a few apprentices and an ex-meddie. The next minute, the stars and moon turned off and everyone was losing their heads. The warrior squinted up at the sky in confusion. What in Starclan's name was going on? He felt a chill run up his spine. Something wasn't right here.

The tom sighed and stood up, looking down at the others momentarily. "Hey, kids. Sorry to have to cut this short but I'm gonna have to skedaddle. Need to check on my clan. You all stay safe and go find your kin." he said the last part with a stern tone. He offered them all a final nod before turning tail and rushing over to where he had last seen some of his clan.

It didn't take too long for him to maneuver around the scrambling cats and the huddling groups. The first of his clanmates he spotted was the deputy herself along with her young apprentice, Poppypaw was it? He quickly hurried over to them with a concerned expression. "You guys alright? Glad ya both haven't been separated with all this here madness..." He trailed off as he watched everyone try to settle down. However, before he could get anymore words in, a familiar voice broke through the loud clearing. Wait. He knew that voice! What was that kid's name again? The warrior searched around before he spotted the source. He narrowed his eyes. There he was. He wasn't so sure on the name but that tom was more than familiar to him. What was he doing here? And why was he so bloody?

Hearing the tom talk was as if it were all a fever dream. Starclan was dead? Dark Forest? Surrender or die? What was even happening? Then, before long, weird, disgusting creatures began to emerge from the undergrowth. What in Starclan's holy name were those? He could spot some different looking ones among the new arrivals but couldn't really process much due to the awful stench that was being emitted by those ugly beasts. They smelled sort of like one of the twoleg streets he'd crossed on his way back to the camps. It had hurt his nose and unfortunately, it seemed like he'd have to relive it all again.

As if all that wasn't enough, a young tom was killed by one of the wispy dark cats. That same cat was also pinning down the young molly who had been beside the tom. They all had an exchange of words but he hadn't been able to pick them up. Even weirder and more alarming was the fact that his nephew was apparently familiar with the she-cat. Since when? At least he wasn't taunting her. Robinpatch felt like he should've felt more while watching their exchange but honestly, he wasn't in the least bit surprised. What did he expect from a tom that had constantly butted heads with his mother and who had little to no common sense in that zany head of his? That kid had a few pieces loose, perhaps he was even missing some. He eyed Jaystar critically from where he stood before he sighed. He should probably have a few words with the kid when this all simmered down shouldn't he? Dear Ivystar was most certainly rolling in her grave, wherever she was now.

Anyway, more and more of those ghostly figures began to emerge and scatter over to different groups, supposedly to cause mischief and chaos. Robinpatch wasn't even sure if he was really there. It all felt so surreal to him Honestly, he was getting too old for all this supernatural mumbo jumbo. Alas, he was a warrior of Riverclan and thus it is the hill he will die upon.

Despite the little reactions from the warrior, Robinpatch felt sadness and anger upon seeing such young cats being cruelly toyed with by these spiteful and pitiful souls. The warrior quickly shoved away his thoughts as he noticed a figure scrambling over to them. He quickly unsheathed his claws but put them away once he noticed it was Ashflight. The poor kid looked like a wreck. He wasted no time in hurrying over to the quaking figure of his clanmate then lowering himself down to the other's level. He gently pressed himself against the younger tom and placed his tail on his back in comfort. "Kid! It's all okay. You're here with Perch and Poppy, see? They're right there. They're safe. You're safe. Here, breathe with me, son. In and out okay? Match my breaths..." The older warrior began to soothe the young tom-cat, exaggerating his breaths so the other could match them and then could recover from his panicking daze. He had had episodes similar to this, back when he was still roaming around in the Great Beyond. However, the allies he made there had helped calm him down. They showed him mercy and kindness and Robin will never forget their help. Now, he was honoring them by using what they had taught him to help someone in need.

Waterlily noticed the stars disappearing.  She noticed the gathering fading into darkness as all the cats around her were concerned.  She knew that Darkpaw and Daypaw and Comfreypaw were at her side.  It was what she did not notice till too late that was her enemy.

Klaus or "Morningstar" or whatever he was calling himself came to the gathering.  Blood pouring out his neck.  Voice in a new sharp tone harder for her to recognize.  She just stared up at him as he spoke.  Words exited his mouth and echoed in her ears, but she still did not recognize them.

Her eyes recognized the face in front of the gathering, her mind did not know who this was, however.  It could not be Klaus.  It could not be her Klaus.  Not the one who she risked her life trying to save a while back.  Not the kind charming cat she met wondering around Thunderclan many moons ago.  And certainly not the father of her kits.

Speaking of, she heard Darkpaw trying to protect her, but she was in such a state of shock that she did not really notice.  She kept her eyes on the "love of her life," unable to focus on anything else in this horrible space.  She considered saying something... but that would most likely reveal that she was mates with Klaus, and she could not tell her kits the truth... not now.

Instead, she whispered under her breath, in a sharper tone than she had ever used before, "Who are you?" It was as if he answered her, for a moment later he was explaining his backstory, all the while making her feel like more and more of a complete idiot.

Of course!  Of course, the one cat that she let herself trust was just lying to her this whole time!  Don't have a family?  Welp, sure you don't.  You know, your father is just a leader of Skyclan and you have a tone of family there.  But when Waterlily asks you? Yep, no family.

A random Dark Forest cat dared to speak to her.  She did not care her name nor her backstory, it was just another mindless beast Klaus dragged around to do his bidding.  Huh, maybe that's why they are friends?  But this finally put her out of her state of shock.  "Get away from me and my children you fox-hearted ghost!" She hissed at the other cat and was very prepared, and actually might enjoy, to run her claws through the heart of this new cat and re-kill it if she could, but then she heard Darkpaw's yelling and turned back to see a golden figure not too far away from her.

She was not scared.  She was running on anger.  Her eyes were locked on Klaus a few tense seconds.  She knew what- who he was looking for.  "Am I who you're looking for?" Waterlily spoke just loud enough for him to her.  Sharpness and anger lay in her tone.  She watched him walk up, eyes not moving away from him the whole time.  "Kits, don't argue, get behind me." Klaus already hurt her more than anyone could know, but, above anything, she would not let him hurt her kits.

Waterlily is losing her hecking mind and talking to her kits and the Gathering, Morningstar, and Vixentooth.
Ashstorm and Scarletriver's reactions coming soon.

Everything happened so quickly. Before anyone knew what was happening, the clearing was surrounded, the cloying, sickly-sweet smell of death and decay sticking to her nostrils, strong enough to make her gag. "What is this?" She whispered. "What's going on?" Despite her determination not to feel fear, Spottedfrog felt a shiver run down her spine as ghostly cats began appearing, circling them, trapping them. She shifted downward, ever so slightly, at Bloodstar's side, her hackles raising. Finally, Newtspring joined them, followed swiftly by Orchidmask, and Pigeonsun behind her, and Spottedfrog breathed a quick sigh of relief.

Her ears flicked up as a pale shadow moved towards them, and though he was definitely different, Spottedfrog recognized her half-brother in an instant. She'd watched him kill Wolfstar a hundred times in her dreams. She snarled quietly, tail lashing as he spoke to their father, and Bloodstar responded in kind. So this was it? They were fighting? Good. Spottedfrog squared herself, inhaling shortly, and aiming herself at the ghastly image of Dawnhawk. He couldn't beat Bloodstar, and he certainly couldn't beat all of them together.

As Bloodstar leaped forward, Spottedfrog was right behind him, but with a flash of claws that was too fast, far too fast, he was gone, and Bloodstar was... down..? This didn't make sense. He'd barely touched him, he... he... there wasn't even a fight, Dawnhawk had hardly flinched and now Bloodstar was struggling back to his feet. Fight abandoned, Spottedfrog moved forward. "Dad!" she cried, pressing herself under his neck to support him. Immediately, she was soaked with blood, so much blood. Nononononononono. "Newtspring," she called desperately, "Newt, please - B...Beech? Help." Her voice was suddenly small. Bloodstar was dying, and even though she knew he'd come back, a part of Spottedfrog was suddenly terrified. If Dawnhawk could do that in half a second... to Bloodstar, what could the others do? How could they ever hope to beat them?

The late evening sky, an infernal simmering smudge of ruddy colors perpetually wreathing against the barren backdrop of the endlessly unfolding forests, was laden with the last little specks of dying light- pulsing presence of guidance gradually withering and dying upon the tongue with little other than a seminal hiss. For several agonizingly long moments enveloped within the tumultuous roaring of chaos, it seemed as though there was a strange pause between any more abrupt appearances whirling to life within the struggling confines of the heaving clearing; movement akin to the final, ragged death-throes of an ancient creature rippling throughout the body in a near wholly unified manner.

A silky flourish of muted mist rippled suddenly against the flank of Mistyfalcon, a strange trembling and warping of the limited light as something seemed to simply... emerge from the ruddy dark darkness sprawling all across the land. Ragged little flecks of broken foliage and wan dark debris quaked softly as they hung heavily in the terse air for a momentary heartbeat, before sharply contracting and pulling inward; the little bits and broken pieces of refractory light gently stitching themselves back into the orderly outline of a cat, cool greys and beguiling undercurrents of orange browns bleeding out into the ghostly shape of a pale coat. Big, mismatched eyes suddenly blinked into light before the living counterpart, cool blues starkly contrasted by the gleaming weight of sullen amber.

"Hello!" Whinchatcall all but purred out as her flickering shape made to billow to a halt before Mistyfalcon, saccharine demeanor both authentic yet sticky upon the tightly-clinched confines of her narrow mouth, "I do apologize, I'm sure this introduction is rather.. abrupt for one such as yourself."

-
Whinchatcall is speaking to Mistyfalcon of ShadowClan!

Scorchtalon barely processed Marshmallow's words, even though she was standing right next to him. There was just too much going on, he couldn't think straight. Stay? He supposed it was a better idea than the one he'd had, which was to stumble around blindly until he found his clanmates. The chaos made it impossible to think.

Suddenly, the stench of deep-set decay filled the air around him, followed by a voice proclaiming that starclan was dead. As he whipped around toward the source of the voice, his stomach turned at the sight of a dripping wound in the neck of the cat who spoke. The gathering was surrounded, cats pressing in on all sides. Eyes that gleamed with malice stared at them from the shadows.

"N-no." He choked, forcing the words out.

"They're lying. They have to be. Starclan can't just be dead!"

He shook his head, glaring at their so-called "leader" in defiance. His body tensed as he growled lowly, drawing his ears back as if ready to jump into battle.
________________
Sootwhisker felt heavy with dread as he listened helplessly to the sounds of panic. It wasn't supposed to be like this! Only heartbeats before they'd been happily mingling and chatting, and the most they'd had to worry about was a few unruly rogues. How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

He smelled the Dark Forest warriors before he saw them, accompanied by the sinking fear that things were about to get a whole lot worse. He could do nothing but watch as his clanmate was murdered, feeling like he was watching from outside his shock-frozen body.

Do something, mouse-brain! He urged himself desperately. But what could he do? Starclan had deserted them, and he'd never felt more hopeless.

Ravenclaw joined her leader, getting into a defensive position. While she didn't believe in any of this 'StarClan is against us' nonsense, she wasn't going to deny an order from her leader. Standing by Bloodstar, she felt her own blood go cold at the sight of foreign cats entering the Gathering. They were hideous, with what looked like mud and filth leaking off their pelts. Then, right there in the middle, was an all too familiar face. "Dawnhawk," she snarled, her claws immediately coming out and scoring the earth beneath her. "I'm going to kill him," she muttered out loud. Who cared about all the hideous cats surrounding him, or the blood ominously dripping from his throat? If he was dead, then she would kill him again! Even with how he easily dispatched her own leader, she wasn't afraid. Bloodstar would stay up. She knew he would, and then they'd take care of these nuisances.

As for Shrikestorm, he stood warily with the other deputies. His claws came out at the almost silent sound of cats calmly entering the Gathering. He looked around, seeing them like filthy shadows at all entrances. They were trapped. That didn't mean they had to lay there and die like kittypets. His claws slid out as he stood next to his fellow deputies, letting out a hollow laugh. "Dream on. I'm not going anywhere."

The stench of something rotting and fetid was almost overwhelming, and Beechfang gagged when she tried to call out to her clanmates as darkness engulfed fourtrees, bringing with it a wave of foul creatures. Struggling to breathe without retching, Beechfang’s gaze locked onto a pale pelt that loomed out of the darkness. Covered in blood that poured from a ghastly wound on his throat, but she would recognize Dawnhawk’s golden fur anywhere. He looked hideous, more like every bit of the monster that she’d always known he was. And the stars were gone now. Dark shapes flooded into the clearing, bringing with them that sickening stench and leaping towards clan cats with reckless abandon.

There would be no help from Starclan. There was never help from Starclan. Whatever had happened, they were weak, or they’d allowed this to happen just as they allowed every other atrocity Dawnhawk had committed. What fools the clans were to ever place faith in them. Bitterness coated her tongue at the thought. The clans would be left to their own devices trying to defeat whatever new horrors Dawnhawk had brought with him this chilly, dark leafbare evening. And they stood no chance. Fools. They were all fools.

Dawnhawk strode up to Bloodstar seemingly without a care in the world, and Beechfang tensed, lips curling as she stepped forward. Only one thing coursed through her mind as the pair spoke. Kill Dawnhawk, whatever he called himself. They’d fought as apprentices... If only she’d known what he would become back then. This could’ve all been avoided had she just gone for his throat then and there. All the pain he’d caused, all the lives taken by his claws... How much would’ve been avoided?

So focused was she on her much-loathed littermate that the former medicine cat was hardly aware of her surroundings. A shape barreled into her then, having managed to stay on her blind side so Beechfang didn’t see her coming. She snarled, claws unsheathing as she struggled against the ice-clad she-cat. Her attacker spoke, and Beechfang only struggled further against her. Bear hunter? Favorite? Oh no, no no no. The dreams she’d had, the nightmares that Shrikestep had pulled her from... Half-remembered nights spent talking and sparring suddenly twisted, becoming clearer.

This was no ally, and certainly no friend. Shrikestep was a liar, and every bit as evil as Dawnhawk was. It’d all been a lie. Beechfang realized. A bit belatedly. Horror tightened her throat as Shrikestep spoke. “Fun?” Beechfang spat, rage flaring in her eye as she gazed up at Shrikestep. “You’re allied with him?” Had she been lured in from the start? She’d ranted to Shrikestep, she’d seen the former medicine cat vulnerable and scared in the face of a storm. She’d seemed to actually care.

Beechfang had been duped. Tricked. And she’d fallen for every word. Disgusted and infuriated, she thrashed and twisted, claws scabbling at Shrikestep’s frame uselessly. She would die for this. Die again, if the ice coating her pelt was any indication. She had hardly noticed it in her dreams... Fool, fool, fool.

“Dad no! We can’t-” Beechfang yowled. Too late. Far too late. All she could do was watch as Dawnhawk’s claws sliced him open in a move that was almost too fast to see properly. It was like the Asylum’s bloody takeover all over again. Panic welled in her chest as she watched Bloodstar stagger, and she thrashed harder, struggling to break Shrikestep’s grip. She was distantly aware of Spottedfrog calling for her to... help, do something, probably. For once, Beechfang actually wanted to. She had been a medicine cat once. If she could just get to him...

The only thing she knew was that Dawnhawk would pay. Shrikestep would pay. If it was the last thing Beechfang ever did.

---

Chaos broke out, and Mistyfalcon gagged at the overpowering stench of death that seemed to flood the hollow. Dawnhawk... With quite a few new scars and blood pouring from his neck was approaching Bloodstar, and he turned away, grimly determined to focus on his clanmates. The rogue Skyclanner needed to be stopped, but Mistyfalcon didn’t really care what happened with the other clans. Cats were being jumped on by the foul beasts that had invaded what should’ve been a peaceful night, and Mistyfalcon’s claws extended as Loudnose fell to the claws of one of them. He rushed forward, meeting Swiftheart and Basilbloom. Swiftheart was trying to tell Basilbloom to run, “Running won’t save us.” He growled. Running would only delay the inevitable. He was sure of it. “Stay close.” Swiftheart, Ratrunner... It didn’t matter, he quickly realized. They were all going to be overwhelmed by this foe.

“Basilbloom! Stay behind m-” Mistyfalcon began. All he knew was that Loudnose’ injuries were bad. Basilbloom needed to focus on helping him. Nothing else, as terrified as she was... As they all were. They could defend her. Had to. His gaze lifted, searching the mass of fighting cats as he sought out Murkystar. Batglow wasn’t here... Hopefully things would be okay back at camp. Mistyfalcon wasn’t optimistic, if this was what the gathering turned into. He forced the thought from his mind as a dark shape lunged at Swiftheart, and he lunged forward with every intention of burying his fangs into her attacker’s neck. He never got the chance, managing a half-pace forward.

A shape materialized against his flank and Mistyfalcon spun, claws operating on pure reflex as he slashed at the pale figure that had a dark glow about them even as they started speaking. Trying to have small talk in a situation like this? The filthy creature was with the other foul beasts, of which Mistyfalcon had no doubt. He didn’t care for a name or anything else other than the fact that it was much too close to his other clanmates for comfort. “Back away.” He growled lowly, scarred muzzle wrinkling into a snarl as he slashed at the figure.

---

“Dawnhawk. It’s always Dawnhawk.” Swiftspirit growled, tail lashing as she watched him approach the Skyclan leader. “I never thought I would regret not killing someone, but for him I’ll make that exception.” Some cats simply deserved death, although it seemed as if death had already found Dawnhawk. She didn’t know if he could die again, with the blood already pouring from his throat seemingly endlessly and without any affect.

Wide blue eyes swept over the hollow, taking in the group of monsters that had interrupted the peaceful gathering. All of them bore wounds, all carried the scent of death that made her want to gag. But some... Some were cats she recognized. Tawnyflare was someone Swiftspirit would recognize anywhere, and much as her claws itched to rake across her former mentor’s pelts, she was already across the hollow from her. Swiftspirit heard Batsong’s voice, and whirled, struggling to pick out her clanmate’s shape among the crowd. She never got the chance as a scarred she-cat barreled into her and Bearspirit leapt between them. The she-cat yowled about a lesson needing to be re-taught... Yeah, yeah. Swiftspirit doubted very much that this she-cat cared at all about the code. She and Bearspirit were far beyond caring about something as pointless as a forbidden romance, that much was obvious. But they were going to make it right, he’d join Windclan, Goldenstar would accept him, things would be fine. “You’re a dark forest cat preaching about the code?” She sneered, “Shove it, mangepelt.” She lashed out with her claws. Bearspirit had just saved her... Again. Swiftspirit wasn’t sure if any of them were going to survive this, but she would fight until the end if those she cared about were in danger.

Beechfang is trying to get free of Shrikestep and support Bloodstar.
Mistyfalcon is engaged with Whinchatcall and trying to keep her away from Loudnose/Basilbloom.
Swiftspirit is engaged with Rainstrike and Bearspirit.
Atalante’s reaction coming in a bit. I need to split this.

At last. By the looks of it, the clans had fallen even further into disrepair in the time of Silversnake's absence. If everything had gone according to her plans, there would be no screeches of fear as the stars left, only readiness. These mewling excuses for warriors were far from prepared for what was coming. She appeared out of the shadows, side-by-side with like minded cats. Hopefully ones who wouldn't stab her in the back this time - the trail of blood she left behind her was enough of a reminder of that.

Immediately she sought out those from her own clan, interested to see if any showed potential. Clearly not. She found a small cluster, but the most striking thing was one warrior panicked whilst the other comforted him. Putting on her fakest of smiles, she slid between the cats, sitting down near them. "I hate to interrupt this little meditation group, but I have a solution of my own." She paused, sounding genuinely helpful before her voice turned icy. "I find it's best to stop acting like an idiotic kit, step up and get your fish in a row. There's no point in crying - you're wasting precious water." Wow, she'd forgotten how fun this was. Now, there was no worry about being too cruel. Morningstar couldn't banish her for doing her job.

"And you," she said, addressing the other tom, "Don't worry about comforting little kitten-cough over there. Be worried about your own pelt. I'd hate to ruin it, after all it is a lovely pelt." Never had a compliment sounded so threatening.

Silversnake is talking to Ashflight and Robinpatch

---

Aoife didn't like this.

It seemed that was now always the first thought that passed through her mind after new developments. If she'd been unsettled at the sight of her parents wearing other cats' pelts, this was a whole other level. Klaus, or Morningstar, or whatever he was, was no longer her father. He was something completely different, buying into the traditions of the clans he hated so much just to terrorize them.

She was still in charge of Hollyshine, who they had brought with them for some unknown reason. Maybe to finally let her go, but that was unlikely. Aoife tried to reason with herself that she just didn't want the extra responsibility of having to watch the Skyclan warrior, but in truth she felt bad for her. She herself would never last so long without seeing any of her family. 

Shadowy warriors that sent a shiver down her spine enclosed the hollow, not a single stretch of land left uncovered. The clans didn't stand a chance.

Hollyshine could try and escape if she wanted to. The chance of that ending in her death was almost definite, and it was like Aoife would be expected to deal the killing blow. She didn't want anymore blood on her paws. She leaned close to the calico, hoping her words were out of range for everyone else who cared, "If I were you, I would risk it all to try and go home now to be with my family. But from the looks of it, your life with us might be better than what the clans are about to deal with, so don't try anything stupid." She let no emotion into her voice, but the briefest trace of concern flashed in her eyes. The battle unfolded in front of them, and yet Aoife didn't lift a claw. She was dedicated to her job, even if she was arguably being too personal and lenient.

Aoife is standing with Hollyshine away from the fighting

After Tinypool had left him to go talk to another she cat, he had sat down and just shrugged while keeping an eye on Tinypool. A little while later it seemed as though the tension in the gathering had gone way up way too quickly. Moon saw Tinypool quickly say goodbye to the she cat that she had been talking to and come back towards Riverclan, with almost panic in her eyes.

As there was a voice that proclaimed Starclan was dead, many of the cat's started freaking out. He personally didn't believe in Starclan but apparently that threat alone was enough to have the clan freaking out just like small kits. Moon got up and walked towards Tinypool. "Everything will be alright my love." he rumbled. "Do no panic as things will only get worse." Moon flicked his silver tail and looked around. "I am fine and no panicking although the clan seems to be. Perhaps it is time for Perchfall to get us out of here and back to camp in order to avoid all of this." he speculated. Outwards, he was calm for Tinypool but inwardly he was questioning what was happening as he remembered all of the gatherings being told to him as calm, quick and collected without the cat's freaking out. As a few moment's pasted he now saw that it was impossible to get out of the gathering as the dark cats had them surrounded and were baring their teeth. Moon didn't really want to fight but was willing if that meant protecting Tinypool...he would attack and kill any cat that would lay their paws on Tinypool.

Snowpaw closed her eyes in horror. She couldn’t watch, especially after what happened to Bloodstar. But then she noticed another apprentice cowering next to a deputy. “Psst! You! Come back here by the Greatrock!” she quietly hissed.

Snowpaw is trying to help Poppypaw stay safe.

The trek to Fourtrees was an agonizingly long one, but it was all worth it when Morningstar’s army crested the lip of the hollow. The overwhelming fear scent washed over his whiskers and for a moment, adrenaline akin to the rush he’d felt when slobbering teeth had torn him apart all those moons ago filled his permanently aching limbs.
Frostthroat’s icey blue gaze slowly clawed over the panicked Clans as his fellow apparitions set upon them, some getting right to the chase and digging their claws into living flesh while others played with poisoned honeyed words to inspire a greater terror in their prey. The lanky limbed ghost of a tom moved slowly-- part necessity, as even in death, he never recovered from the deep bitemarks that covered him from ears to tailtip, and part because he simply did not want to rush things. He’d waited this long for revenge. He could wait a little while longer. Heartbeats, days, moons-- they were nothing in the face of eternity.
Taking a deep breath, Frostthroat finally slipped into the crowd of the Clan cats, deftly maneuvering as the living skittered away from the dead like beetles fleeing from underneath a disturbed rock. Disgusting. His lips curled back into a sneering growl, the wound on his throat beginning to ooze a black, putrid blood. So this is what happened to the mighty Clans after they had scorned his wisdom. Rogue blood had made them all weak and mewling, just like he knew it would. And putting all their faith in StarClan certainly hadn’t helped one bit.
His tattered ears twitched as he heard a whimper followed by a growl of defiance-- “StarClan can’t be dead!”-- and he snapped his head in their direction. It was a ginger tom, and as cold eyes studied him, Frostthroat picked up the scent of his once proud WindClan clinging to his pelt.
“I see WindClan is still breeding religious fools after all these moons,” He hissed, his voice thick with contempt as Frostthroat stalked toward him, baring his stained teeth. “Clinging to StarClan even as their light is snuffed out right in front of your eyes. It’s best that you open them now. Unless you wish to be blinded.” He rounded his shoulders and unsheathed his claws, staring down the warrior, his eyes blazing with a cold fire. Go on. Find out how little StarClan cares about you, moorrunner.

Frostthroat is threatening Scorchtalon

Atalante stared wide-eyed as a horde of... what even were they?... spilled into the hollow. Wounds, the stench of blood and death and rot filled the air, and it only took a moment before fighting had broken out everywhere around her. There was one pelt she... Thought she recognized, but didn't want to believe in that recognition. Pale golden fur was soaked in blood. Fear made her heart pound as her fluffy tortoiseshell fur fluffed out, and as the figure that looked like Klaus spoke, Atalante found herself unconsciously backing away. Starclan wasn't real, what did he mean they were dead? And the dark forest? What in the void was he on about? Why was he bleeding like that? And all the other creatures she didn't want to call cats that had shown themselves and were attacking the gathered clans. Wasn't this supposed to be a time of peace?

Atalante glanced around frantically, searching for signs of her siblings. Her real siblings. She didn't see Achelois-Loonpaw in the crowd, and she didn't see Achlys either. Her eyes did land on an unexpectedly familiar form though, near the edge of the hollow. "Aoife!" She managed to squeak out, beelining towards her with a sense of relief at someone truly familiar who she trust. She pressed against her sister, unable to hide the way her paws trembled and hardly noticing the other cat that was with her. "What's happening? Why are these things attacking everyone? What's with dad? That's not... actually him, right?"

---

"Well well," A white tom stalked lazily through the crowd, burning amber eyes settling on the form of a silvery tabby who smelled of fish. "You seem like a brave one, hmm? Shall we see how long that lasts?" With a rumbling purr he roughly shoulder-checked the fluffy tom, fully intending on sending him tumbling to the ground. Whitesnake was muscular, broad shoulders made all the more obvious by the way his long fur clung to his skin, forever saturated with dirty marsh water. He'd been eager to walk the earth once again and was looking forward to finding new cats to spar with. This tom certainly seemed interesting, and the way he tried to exude confidence to his clanmate made Whitesnake chuckle. There was a fine line between confidence and stupidity... And he thought he knew which line this slimy Riverclanner fell on.

Ata/Featherpaw is hiding behind Aoife.
Whitesnake is quite amused by Moon's bravado.

Despite the chaos, the arrival of the shadows and the Dark Forest, Tinypool was able to find her love back. When Moon reached her side, she let her head sink into the tom's fur so his heartbeat and warmth could comfort her a little bit. He seemed so calm and it wasn't unexpected considering his lack of belief in the stars. But even if he didn't believe Starclan... these evil, shadow cats coming from death were real. And they were surrounded. "I won't leave your side again... We have to stick together. I know you don't believe in Starclan but... these cats... are really dangerous!" She mewed into his fur.

However, before she could come up with a plan of escape, another presence approached them. Her embrace with Moon was suddenly interrupted by the shadow-figure as he pushed her clanmate with his shoulder. Hissing, the small pretty blue-eyed she-cat stood up between Whitesnake and Moon, her claws unsheathed. She was aware this was not a battle she could win but the she-cat had to protect him. Lashing her tongue and with her rounded ears flattened to her skull, she hissed. "Stay away from us, freak." She was scared. With Starclan gone... who would be watching for them? The clans were alone... but Tinypool still had Perchfall, Hollyleaf and Moon. The small warrior knew that even if she died, it would be worth it if they could make it alive.

Tinypool is standing up between Moon and Whitesnake
Cinderpaw's reaction will be posted shortly

This felt oh so familiar to the brown tabby as he stepped into the clearing. This wasn’t his first time seeing the shadowy figures of the Dark Forest walking into Fourtrees, nor the first time he stood at their side to fight against the StarClan followers…but this was the first time he stood between them as one of their own. His usually pristine fur was somewhat disheveled regardless of how much he groomed it, barely achieving to make himself look presentable, the scent of the StarClan-sent illness that had taken his life several moons ago clinging to his body and refusing to let go.

Forest green eyes scanned the clearing for a second or two before they closed, allowing him to focus only on the fresh air and smells that surrounded him as he took a deep breath. For so long the stagnant air of the Dark Forest had filled his lungs, the smell of death and decay the only thing he could distinguish from the murky fog…it felt so nice to be back.

Hawkstrike’s silent steps led him towards the gathered SkyClan cats, the clan that he used to call home for so long, making himself comfortable between them as he would’ve when he was back alive, not really caring about most of the reacting such action could drag his way. He was only mildly disappointed when he realized he couldn’t recognize most of the cats gathered, making him wonder for how long he was gone, forced to wander between the shadows and fog…when you have no sky above your head, time soon loses meaning and you lose track, no wonder some cats tend to lose themselves there, these “Awakened” as their new self-proclaimed leader liked to call them for some reason.

He watched with unnerving calm as Morningstar…or Dawnhawk as many of the still-living cats were calling him…attacked Bloodstar, his father, and landed a fatal blow on him. He knew little of the story between the two cats, but if it was anywhere close to the story he once shared with his own he couldn’t really blame him for it. If anything, the only thing that brought a semblance of disappointment in him was the fact that this Bloodstar was SkyClan’s leader.

Oh, how much things had changed…he had to admit he still missed the relationship he had with Crowstar, and deep inside he still missed the old leader he used to consider a friend. More than once he had been tempted to walk to the mist separating them from the StarClan territories in hopes of sharing some words with him again, but not only he didn’t want to cross paths with several cats he knew now roamed StarClan, but he wasn’t a stranger to being disappointed when waiting for those he once cared for at the border of a territory, and he wasn’t willing to go through that crushing heartache again.



Hawkstrike is calmly sitting among the SkyClan cats, watching the events unravel