Fallen Stars [Astraeus]

Beechfang, it seemed, couldn't quite force her paws away from fourtrees now that she'd delivered her message. She knew she should. She was no longer Skyclan, she recognized scant few cats beyond her own kits within the clan now. She was exiled, and all of that. Her own fault.

She couldn't quite make herself leave, however. Not after seeing the look on Birdchaser's face, the weariness of the entire clan that was palpable even from a distance. Beechfang had quietly settled on the fringes, never quite entering the hollow she so hated, but occasionally leaving a piece of fresh-kill where one of their warriors would grab it. Not contributing to their makeshift perimeter, but keeping an eye out for other cats all the same while keeping herself hidden in the dying undergrowth.

So far, she hadn't seen much beyond Thunderclan's own scent markers on the edge of their territory, which she had been careful to steer well clear of out of respect. Still, it couldn't hurt for the ailing clan to have another eye looking out, another nose to catch the scent of trouble before it reached the clearing. It would've been less hassle for Beechfang to simply move on, to return to twolegplace, and yet... She just couldn't force her paws to leave, even knowing the truth of it.

Astraeus prided himself upon his ability to size up a cat with a single glance. SkyClan’s leader, as makeshift as their camp? A tired molly, worn thin, almost at the breaking point- possibly dangerous but certainly not a logical threat. Crimsonflame? Someone who had convinced himself that he was in the right, for if he was not… his actions had no excuse. A hypocrite. Lighttail? A spirit tied to the Clans and her family whilst still capable of hearing the sweet call of adventure. Sablestrike, a tom who wanted to be heard so desperately that he’d talk to anyone who’d listen.

This molly? A threat.

Astraeus perched up in a tree not far from Fourtrees, watching the other silver tabby. He’d seen scars like that before, on a fool cat who’d been on some odd wires when a tree fell on them and lightning spurted out- a rogue? A fellow wanderer? Yet he could’ve sworn he’d scented her in the clearing before, and certainly the SkyClanners would’ve noticed such a molly, battle-scarred and huge, bigger even than Birdchaser. Down an eye- yet still probably capable of taking him down with ease, if she so wished. If she was SkyClan, he doubted he could remain hidden much longer- the three-dimensional awareness that SkyClanners and loners accustomed to the roofs of Twolegplace shared would ensure that she noticed him, sooner or later, and it was always better to out oneself than to be outed. If she was hostile… well, she could probably take down a fox, but depth perception was king in the trees- and her weight wouldn’t do her any favors either. He could get away, as long as he stayed out of reach.

“Hello?” He called down, lounging on a branch just too high for anyone to reach in one bound, a blackbird at his paws. “I haven’t seen you around before.” Truth, although he’d certainly scented her about, on the outskirts of Fourtrees. Curiouser and curiouser. What business did she have with SkyClan? Surely if she was ex-SkyClan it was for a reason, and the Clanners would be all too eager to drive her off?

A mystery- and Astraeus did love mysteries.

Shadows flickered as a cat moved among the trees, and Beechfang's head whipped up on instinct. The silvery tom she found watching her was most definitely not Skyclan, but he was certainly comfortable up there as any of them. How interesting, for another rogue to be out here when Skyclan mere foxlengths away. They were tired, but this careless? Her single, yellow-green eye narrowed slightly, wariness ingrained in her far too long to ever be comfortable with an unknown evident on her scarred expression.

The tom called a greeting, and Beechfang watched him closely, though made no move towards him. If he was smart, he was sizing her up and already realizing that he was much safer in the trees, where her ever-frustrating lack of depth perception wouldn't do her any good in fighting. On the ground, though... That would be a fairer fight, if it came to it.

"I would've arrived here at the same time as them, if I hadn't been held up. Twolegs." She stated flatly. He didn't need to know they would be undergoing a change in leadership. Assuming he hadn't caught her scent already, if he came closer, or if the wind brought her scent to him, he might realize that she didn't smell like the group of cats within fourtrees, but Beechfang wasn't going to volunteer that information. They were close enough that were any fight to break out, it would surely be heard.

"What has a rogue lurking around Skyclan? Historically those two do not mesh well together." Dawnhawk's reign of terror was over, but there were nights it didn't feel that way. The Asylum, Dawnhawk's rogues, nothing but trouble had ever come to Skyclan from those who were no longer clan cats. Even her own presence here was pushing it, if the wrong cat found out... Well, Beechfang had always been stubborn.

The other cat noticed him, betraying her knowledge with a swift movement of her head. So she was either SkyClan, or from the far-off city where cats raced along low walls and roofs to escape Twolegs and dogs and worse. The latter was the more likely, he supposed, with scars like that. SkyClanners were not fools to be up trees in storms, but in the city, anything could happen. Then what was she doing around here? Why had the SkyClanners not driven her off? How interesting! The silver tom sheathed his claws, warm yellow gaze meeting a lone, wary green eye. The wariness was interesting, too- he himself didn’t think he’d stand a chance in a fair fight against her. He would expect her to be overconfident, yet she was cautious. Like him. It was becoming more and more likely that she was from the city.

And then she started talking, and that theory went half-way out the window. She knew of SkyClan- stars, did she know of his father? That might account for the wariness, he supposed… yet why was she lurking around the hollow? For a second, his gaze sharpened as he sized up the grey tabby once more, this time with a different object in mind- were they related? Pelt pattern- rather similar. Size- not exactly matching his own, but definitely that of his lineage. Eyes- hmm, Aether had green eyes. Voice- her gravelly voice was nothing like his melodic, soothing own, but part of that might be attributed to the lightning. And there was something there that did tug at the corners of his memory, as though one of his siblings had a voice not unlike hers. Hmmm.

“I know it seems pedantic,” he mewed at her not-quite-a-question, “Yet I call myself a wanderer- rogue sounding overly combative and loner too anti-social. Surely you yourself understand the distinction?” Too late, he realized she might not have known that he knew she was not SkyClan, at least not currently- now he had given himself away. If she was smart, she would realize that that meant he was, at least, acquainted with the arboreal Clan. If she was not, well, all the better for him.

The tom was studying her with all the regard of someone who had lived on his own for long enough to have a brain. No fool, then, though one could make the argument that lingering around the dispossessed clan was indicative of being a fool.

"Loner, wanderer, rogue, all different names for those without a clan. Any of those can still be a threat, no matter what anyone may choose to call themselves." A lifetime of experience had taught her that. Surely she knew the distinction, a tired laugh escaped her. He'd picked up on the fact she was not Skyclan, good for him. He wasn't a fool, not yet anyways. "Aye, disgraced exile falls into that category too. Not that they wanted it, but that is how it will stay." Her fluffy tail flicked, pointing in the direction of the hollow, of the cats she referred to. "Most clans will view us all one and the same. This forest has seen too much bloodshed for them not to." The Asylum, though Beechfang realized with a pang that most cats alive now probably were too young to even remember the horror that they had sown. Dawnhawk was fresher in everyone's memory, but even that would soon only exist in memory and story. She was growing older, while the rest of the forest had grown younger. The thought was a disconcerting one.

Astraeus flicked his tail, tensing, just a little. Ah. Another lesson to be taught. She was not deceived by his web of woven words- her age and experience should have betrayed the fact, sooner. He was not at his sharpest, today. Older cats were less likely to listen, less likely to be deceived by the fair guise of the idea that a name could truly change a thing. Yet she did not seem, exactly, set in her ways. She was, rather, someone who had seen enough to have an idea of the world, and to not change it. Disgraced exile? Should he be seen speaking with her, then? No matter. Birdchaser was not his leader. If she asked questions, he did not know who this grey tabby was. A truth, that- her name was just as much a mystery to him as his surely was to her.

Hmmm… did she mean that SkyClan exiled her on accident? How would that work? Or mayhaps she had committed a crime so terrible they could not let her stay, little as they wanted to lose such an experienced warrior… aye, that was likely it. He kept a wary eye on her every movement, even as she continued to speak. She would not run on, this one. It would be hard to sway her, and he doubted he wished to.

The Clans had seen too much bloodshed to act otherwise… hmmm… “I had not thought of it that way, before,” he mewed truthfully, laying his head on his paws. His father. It was good that such a memory remain in the minds of the Clans, so they may know not to trust such un-dead terrors. Was the automatic ostracism he faced at every turn an acceptable price to pay, as long as no-cat forgot the unnatural horror of un-death?

He rather thought it was.

“Astraeus,” he mewed, dipping his ears in respect. “You?” There was no point in her denying him her name. He would find it out easily, with a few questions- and in the same breath, there was no point in his denying her his name. She would, also, find it out with ease, and if he gave an alias, she would be only more distrustful when she discovered the truth. Lie only when one has to, and then include as much truth as one can.

He hadn't thought of it that way, and in Beechfang's experience, most outsiders didn't. Most clan cats too, were just as rigid, and with good reason. Still, over the moons she had come to recognize why some outsiders would prefer not to be lumped beneath the same banner. "I might've been more adamant about it, had my own circumstances not changed. I don't much like being called a rogue either." She didn't much enjoy being reminded of it at all, in fact, but every waking moment seemed to be a reminder.

Astraeus... Beechfang was slowly getting used to the strangeness of names outside of the clans, though that didn't make them any less strange. She was sure that he would find a clan name just as strange, not that Beechfang cared much either way. "Beechfang." She offered in reciprocation. Her name was known, and if he recognized it, well, she would deal with that if it came to it.

Astraeus nodded in agreement at her words. “Not only that, which is true, but it also divides the enormous, diverse world into two rigid categories: Clanners, and not-Clanners. Somewhat egotistical of them, in a way, to assume that every cat not in a Clan is just like every other- out for your blood.” He could’ve continued, but… he didn’t want to risk it. This she-cat was wise. He did not want to be caught twisting the truth by her… she was not the type to be swayed. The tip of his tail flicked as the silvery tom laid his head down on his paws. Beechfang, her name was, one that stirred the edge of his memory. What… what…

“Beechaunt?” he asked suddenly, snapping his head up before his ears went red with embarrassment. This is why you think before you speak, blockhead. “I’m sorry- I met a golden molly in the city moons ago… she spoke of her aunt with fondness. A kind she-cat, that one.” He had not offered his name to her, and she had not offered hers to him… yet what he had first took to be caution he rather now thought was merely oblivion. She had not even mentioned which of the Clans she came from, although SkyClan had been more than implied. She’d mentioned his father as Hawkuncle… he had hoped he’d changed her mind on him, though her more than doubted it. Depending on which side of the family her aunt was on, she may well be his aunt- though he’d die before calling anyone such a… mushy name.

"Lived experience plays a part in that. Most clan cats know nothing else, and most outsiders only view u- them as being stingy with large swathes of territory. But that's not quite the truth of it either, there's only so many cats the territory within clan borders can feed, especially in leafbare when everyone's starving." She didn't particularly agree with the common outsider viewpoint. "And that is why clan cats are taught to stick to their own territory. Why border patrols are necessary. Clearer boundaries makes fights over unclear borders and prey happen less." Fights over harboring a criminal who had killed kits, not quite as uncommon, she thought bitterly.

Her head lifted in surprise at the 'Beechaunt' moniker. "So you ran into my niece at some point. Dawnfeather. And I still don't understand what her mother was thinking, naming her after my sorry excuse of a littermate. We should all thank our lucky stars that she didn't take that to heart and turn out just like him." Beechfang spat. "She's a good cat, though. Kinder than some would deserve. And just as stubborn as the rest of the family, it would seem."

Astraeus nodded at the grey she-cat’s words. “Compared to groups I’ve met, the Clanners are actually rather civil- the only way so many cats can exist so close to each other is if no-one tries to claim much more than he needs. Aye, I know- it makes, sense, however, that with so many mouths to feed prey can be scarce during the Season of Silent Snows.” For him, however, this was a benefit- a way in, a service he could offer that was, indeed, desperately needed. He could fend for himself in the territories mid-winter, he could fend for himself with an easy ease in the summer. The Clans, though, dragged themselves down, each cat having to hunt not only for himself but for those who could not, or would not. Surely, among the Clans, there were a few who were merely a drain on resources… and those who would hunt had to hunt for themselves and for the lazy ones.

Dawnfeather. Dawnfeather. Hmmm… yes, he supposed it did fit her, yet it surprised him that- oh, she was also, still, surprised. And… yay. His father was her littermate. So she was his aunt… yay. What a touching family reunion- and that meant that Dawnfeather was… his cousin? Stars… his family was everywhere, and if they figured out who he was, his life was worth less than a mouse-tail in the most bountiful green-leaf. Maybe she’d attacked Aether, and that was why she was exiled… though more likely Aether had simply managed to hide his identity. “Stubborn in her generosity, yes,” he mewed, twitching the very tip of his tail. That was the one cat he was in debt to, yet also the only one he didn’t worry about repaying.

“I find it unlikely that anything short of demonic possession could turn her into an un-dead terror,” he mewed dryly, wondering if the grey she-cat even knew what he was talking about- oh stars, he’d admitted that he had some idea of who Dawnhawk was. Scat. This was why he let the other in the conversation do the talking, instead of the other way around. Scat, scat, scat.

"You seem to know a fair bit about him." She mewed, single eye narrowing as she studied him. He did have the silvery coat that so many of her own family had... And he seemed quite comfortable up in the tree. "I've known too many who were willfully ignorant. Even before that debacle. Years before, even." She grimaced, remembering the way her back had felt after she'd woken, with a fire burning from the top of her head to the very base of her tail, her pelt stained with blood and golden fur between her own bloody claws. The memory of Featherkit's broken body threatened to send acid into her throat. She wasn't going to sleep well tonight, not that she ever did. "You, though... You speak as if you lived it, too. Some of it, at least. You're young enough to have only seen the worst parts of him." He was younger than Dawnfeather, clearly, but the way he spoke, the way he was wary of her and sized her up, mentally, he experienced enough. And sometimes Beechfang wasn't even sure that the dark forest-leading horror Dawnhawk had turned into was the worst. At least then, they had all known and seen him for what he truly was. A monster.

"Sometimes I wonder if things would've turned out different if..." Beechfang shook her head abruptly. "Can't change the past, and other times I think that would've been the end regardless. He was always cruel, always power hungry. Always vengeful beyond reason. I suppose we had that in common." She added the last with a bitter, hollow laugh. "At least one of us always knew our actions were wrong."

Ah- she’d figured it out, but… didn’t seem unnecessarily hostile, unless it was an act, and a good one, too. Or perhaps she was simply old, and tired- quite likely, if she was his father’s age. Dawnhawk had been growing older, before he defied the natural way of the world, and that was a seasons ago. “I lived here, as a kit,” he mewed simply. “However, I draw the line at un-death. It was good to hear that the unnatural specter which stalked the territories was vanquished.” This was truth; but he didn’t want to mention the whole “oh and he was also a loving father before that, who would’ve guessed?” part. To be honest, he didn’t want to think about it, either.

Her continued voice, however, made a bit of confusion well up within the silvery tom. What other atrocities had his father committed, even before un-death tainted him? On second thought, Astraeus decided, he didn’t want to know. “I am curious- whose claws finally killed the Morningstar and made the bountiful territories safe once more? Surely the whole forest owes a debt to such a cat- if his inflamed ego did not kill him first…”

Lived here as a kit, but undead horrors was where he drew the line... Interesting phrasing. Very interesting phrasing. Beechfang wouldn't voice her suspicions, not yet, anyways. "Some of us drew the line at murdering a kit in cold blood. All because our mother said things no mother should say." After that, being undead or not, it hadn't particularly mattered, had it?

He asked who had finally killed her littermate, and a tired laugh escaped her. "Our mother. After how she treated him, and the terror he wrought for the better part of... two years? I guess she felt responsible. So much so that she lingered around camp for moons after her own death, just to see it through. And Briarstar, who was still a warrior then." Briarstar had been a nobler cat than Beechfang had given her credit for. How strange that conversation had been, and now she was gone too.

Astraeus’ ears flicked back. The murder of a kit? In cold blood? “I will second, that,” he mewed, the very tip of his tail twitching. “No kit deserves to die for the offenses of their parents.” Truth, that- he and his siblings had barely survived a harsh leaf-bare because they did not have a Clan to shelter them. Loner life was for adults able to fend for themselves, not young kits who were totally helpless. One of the benefits of life in the Clans- for the kits, that was, not for the warriors who had to hunt to feed them. He himself wouldn’t mind going slightly hungry for kits… but he would not starve himself to death for them. Or for anyone. Life was the greatest blessing of all, was it not?

“A ghost cat?” he echoed, eyes narrowing slightly in incredulity. “Let me get this straight- a ghost cat murdered an un-dead demon cat. If I hadn’t heard of the Morningstar’s atrocities before I would hardly believe the tale.” Good for you, grandmother. I thank you. And Briarstar? A shame the molly seemed to now be gone for good, then. He wondered idly what this scarred molly’s story was- one that tinged her tired laugh with a deep regret yet kept her paws moving when there seemed nothing left for her. She was not a drifter- she was a Clan cat, through and through, and in Astraeus’ experience Clan cats did not last long outside of Clans if they lacked that wanderer’s spirit. What inner fire kept her going? What goal was she still working towards?

"No kit deserves the blame for their parents, nor to take the consequences of foul words." Beechfang agreed quietly. She had always said it, but she hadn't always followed through on that. Briefly her thoughts turned to Spottedfrog and Newtspring, and for a second even Bear... But Newt and Bear were long gone and even Beechfang wasn't stubborn enough to believe the last bridge could possibly be saved. And Bear, she thought, may not have even wanted to save it were she even around. Beechfang wasn't sure she wanted to, either.

Astraeus sounded like he didn't believe her tale of ghosts, and had Beechfang not lived it perhaps she wouldn't have, either. ...Yeah. She wasn't going to sleep tonight. That was okay, she didn't need sleep. "When the dark forest - the undead horrors you refer to - roamed the forest, cats who died couldn't move on. We saw their shades, lingering in the forest, in our camps... Wherever they took their final breath. They were unable to speak or hear us until the very end, when we fought to drive the dark forest out. The sacrifices of living cats gave them the strength to become real again, to fight alongside us and finally drive the dark forest out. There's... A lot more to it than that, but that's the... shortest explanation I can give you. I suppose you care little for starclan, if you've ever heard of them, and I care little to talk about them."