Games You Play [Owlshriek]

Movement near the edge of camp caught Whitesnake's attention, and the sodden-furred tom lazily stretched, making his way toward the patrol leaving camp. Most of the Riverclan pelts tended to blend in with one another to him. As a Shadowclanner in life, Whitesnake had little true care for the individuals in Riverclan. Still, his sharp golden eyes picked out a familiar pelt on the patrol, and he padded over with a cheerful wave of his tail that sent dirty marshwaver droplets scattering.

"Owlshriek." He greeted, falling into step with the patrol as if he'd been invited along and wasn't inserting himself to watch them squirm.

Despite the united Dark Forest cats that were in their midst, RiverClan still had a border to protect and enforce. Apparently, there had been some issues regarding the ThunderClan border, though he was not privy to the information. Either way, the small group of cats made their way out of camp, heading towards the river. Of course, having seen a difficult leaf-bare, the cats agreed to split up to hunt along the river once they got there.

He hadn't noticed Whitesnake phase into existence next to him but held his fur down to keep himself from showing that he was in fact startled. "...Whitesnake." He mewed back, turning his eyes towards the tom, then back to the land in front of him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Owlshriek had been startled, but did a good enough job of trying to hide it from most cats. Too bad Whitesnake was not most cats, and he thoroughly enjoyed the reaction. "Oh, I just figured I'd come along with the patrol, stretch my legs and all. It's such a nice day out for hunting, don't you think?" Whitesnake responded, tone downright cheerful. If the newly-named warrior wanted him to leave, well, he was out of luck today.

"...Certainly." Owlshriek mewed back, eyes locked ahead of them, stepping over a branch deliberately. "You don't eat, do you?" The tom asked, wondering if the other cat truly killed just for the thrill of it, or if he truly missed hunting. "I can't imagine you would want to go through with hunting if some cat could do it for you."

"Why wouldn't I eat?" Whitesnake asked, a false innocence in his voice. The innocence seemed to drop away as he continued to speak, "You take for granted how it feels to be alive. The taste of a good piece of prey, breathing clean forest air. Solid ground beneath your paws. Warm blood beneath your claws. Being able to look up and see the sun or moon." His voice trailed off, a wistfulness that even he hadn't expected. Clarity seemed to return to him however, golden eyes bright as he surveyed their surroundings. "You think we don't all yearn for those things?"

"Sure is hard to appreciate the sun or the moon when the skies are starless." Owlshriek remarked, casting a glance towards the sky. "Don't get me wrong though. I've only heard things about stars. I've never seen them." Having been born just after the Darkforest took over, the tom never saw that they described as stars, nor the world in it's balanced state. "Well..." His voice dropped, letting the other cats gain a lead so they both were out of earshot. "If I'm honest, I'm not even convinced StarClan is real. I haven't seen heads or tails of them, and it's hard to believe when you've never seen even a hit of their existence."

He doubted Starclan, that was good. Very good. Whitesnake's face remained impassive as he spoke however, golden eyes betraying none of his sense of satisfaction at the direction the conversation was going. "The stars were something pretty to look at, but always distant, always cold. I think you, and kits born after Starclan disappeared, are better off, truthfully. The dark forest isn't here to judge all of your supposed sins and force you into a life of eternal suffering because broke their stifling code." And it had been suffering. His pelt would forever drip with rank marshwater, the water in his lungs and the accompanying rasp in Whitesnake's voice would forever be a discomfort even if he no longer needed to breathe. "You have no memories of their false promises, of claims to only want what's best for the clans while watching the forest suffer without lifting a paw to help the living." It had taken a single glance at the gathering, to see just how much the forest had suffered in recent times. It had been etched into faces lined with pain and unhappiness. The dark forest's takeover might've been brutal, but the dark forest was not Starclan. They could walk among the living now, as the stars refused to do. They were too cowardly to do much else but meddle from a distance, and that sort of cowardice was not what the forest needed.

Owlshriek flicked an ear and cast a distrusting glance towards Whitesnake. "Yet you claim that they disappeared. I'm doubting their existence." The tom slowed his pace, to put even more distance. "From what I am hearing from you, they certainly exist." Owlshriek was no fool. The way older cats spoke of StarClan's existence was true, but another cat who dislikes it stating that they did, at one point exist, is another thing. The young warrior still wasn't sure what to believe.

So, certainly, they did exist then? But, if that were the case, where were they now? Why lose their power now? "No offense," Owlshriek began, stepping over a puddle with ease. "I don't want to end up like you. Considering what you shared with me earlier about what you miss." A beat later and he added; "You aren't doing great promoting your cause."

"Sometimes I envy you that doubt." Whitesnake's tail twitched. "You'll never know the cruelty they disguise as compassion, as wanting what's best, for us all to live in a paradise that reflects the forest territories we walk even in death. They don't want us to wander the dark, with wounds forever bleeding and never being able to see the sun." Whitesnake's eyed the living tom for a moment. "Unless of course, you happen to speak valid criticism. Decide clan life isn't for you and leave, fall in love with the wrong cat across the border or even in your own clan? Go to 'extremes' to make sure that your clan is protected, that the clan's apprentices are as capable in and prepared for combat as they can be?" A low snort escaped the pale tom, "You are only allowed into that paradise if you fit their narrow view of what a proper warrior should be. They were rigid and unyielding at the best of times, as I'm sure some of your clan elders could tell you."

"When the forest is in trouble and your medicine cats beg for guidance, what have the stars offered them? Ask your elders, ask your medicine cats. They will say the same thing; the stars hid behind false promises and pretty words designed to keep you all compliant. When there is true trouble that requires them to act, they won't. I don't care for the specifics of how they disappeared and we were allowed to walk free, but I welcome it with open paws. To feel clean air, to walk in the light... That's a gift, Owlshriek. One that Starclan would deny cats for even a minor offense. To walk in the shadows for so long, with wounds constantly stinging, without my clanmates or companions... It was maddening." Why else would cats lose their minds so completely to it? Whitesnake was an old spirit, but he was not as old as some others he had seen. And the truly ancient beings, the ones that had only a drive for vengeance... Well, he could understand them.

Owlshriek listened quietly. It was true, certainly. Bad things happen to the clans every day. But they hadn't gotten help from StarClan. Instead, what he was told by the elders, was that they got cryptic messages leaving every cat confused. Starclan claimed they were warnings but were they truly? When the cats receiving them cannot understand them? Perhaps Starclan may never come back. The stars that the other cats spoke of were gone, and that may just be their life now.

Head-turning away towards the patrol a few fox lengths ahead, Owlshriek let out a sigh. "I suppose you are right. It can't be helped that they've done nothing to help us while we were starving during leafbare." He stepped over a puddle, tail lashing over its surface. "Why not help if you can? You shadowy cats have had more presence in our lives these past moons than StarClan in the history of the forest." Of course, that may just be an exaggeration, but...

"Help hunt, you mean?" Whitesnake's whiskers twitched in amusement, "I suppose I could help add a few frogs to the fresh-kill pile... I have no desire to get my paws wet fishing." The rising waters provoked an unpleasant memory, though that memory was tied to brackish marshwater and not the seemingly clear waters of the river. For a brief moment the sensation of water filling his lungs made him stop breathing entirely, spine rigid. His fur bristled as much as it could under the heavy weight of water it held. Not much.

Giving himself a sharp shake, the waterlogged tom glanced over at Owlshriek. "It's good you younger cats are more level-headed. If only some of your older clanmates were the same, things would not have been so harsh when we first came to the forest."

"That too." Owlshriek mused, watching the other cats ahead mark the territory. "Me? Levelheaded?" The tom joked, moving onwards up the border. He took a moment to mark a bush before catching up to Whitesnake. "We don't know a life otherwise, but I can't imagine anything truly different." The young warrior explained. Sure, he could imagine a life without the shadowy cats, but it all felt oddly empty when he did.

"So, what does your group know how to do that StarClan doesn't?" He asked, glancing towards the sky. What did the stars look like?

"Walking among the living lets us do plenty." Whitesnake responded, "If there are threats, odds are we can help handle them directly rather than offering hollow words. And it's not like we can die again." Well, there were ways to keep a dark forest cat down, but no mundane forest cat would be the one to do that. The stars were gone, and they would stay that way, so no, no dark forest cats were going to die to something as petty as disease or a fight with another cat or predator. "I'm sure you've noticed we have much better stamina and do not tire like you warmblooded youngsters, as well. And we don't technically need to eat, that's more fresh kill for you." Whitesnake did miss the taste of prey of course... And he wasn't above making any mortal uncomfortable by picking at a frog or two.