Saltsnarl : A lonely departure [UTS]
Jun 20, 2018 14:43:29 GMT -5
Post by Blue Apples on Jun 20, 2018 14:43:29 GMT -5
Theme: Silhouettes - Of Monsters and Men
When RiverClan was at last able to return to their rightful camp it was not the homecoming many were expecting. Twoleg trash had found its way into their waters, killing off fish and any cat foolish enough to go sticking scum into their mouths. Only halfway into new-leaf RiverClan once again had to turn their dependence onto land-caught prey.
The Clans, all five of them, didn’t manage well against the poisoned river. It wasn’t long thereafter that Twolegs made themselves apparent in the territories- in numbers that the cats had never known. In one fell swoop these creatures destroyed what remained of ThunderClan, then swiftly fell into targeting the others. Cats from all around the territories were snatched and consequently never seen again.
From that point on everything seemed to fall apart. The Clans shrank in population, either from death or abandonment; Gatherings were sporadic until they too faded away; StarClan themselves seemed to fall silent as the Clans began to grow distance from one another. And yet RiverClan held on.
Throughout the tragedies Saltsnarl remained strong willed. Her life continued as normal- She patrolled, she hunted, she laid beside Olivestep each night, she watched over her kits (albeit from a distance). The grouchy she-cat even made an extra effort to spend more time with her former apprentice, Larkflower. For a while, everything seemed alright.
It was seasons later that fate dealt a cruel blow, taking away the cat that meant most to the mottled warrior- the cat that had brought her back from the brink of insanity and gave her a reason to stick around. After managing to track down each and every cat who she’d ever done wrong, Olivestep was gifted a peaceful death. The old tabby warrior fell still in the nest of her adopted son, Gullthorn, his fading scent easing her into the next life.
Ironically, this was the one night Saltsnarl had not spent with her, leaving the tortoiseshell to feel just as shocked and grief-stricken as the rest of her Clan. She denied the news at first, outright snarling in the face of the cat who delivered it. When she was shown to the body, the tortoiseshell all but broke down on the spot. Memories of Garjaw’s death resurfaced, and this time no one was there to offer her any comfort. Saltsnarl carried on sluggishly the days thereafter, before giving up entirely after the disappearance of Guppyheart.
Saltsnarl retired early to the elder’s den at that point; though still a warrior in name no one gave her any trouble for it, save for the gloomy whispers every now and again. The she-cat suffered through both good and bad days; the former were usually spent in Larkflower or Stormcry’s company, while during the latter Saltsnarl would refuse to leave the den for days on end.
The once fierce warrior remained as nothing more than a shell of herself: quiet, meek, hollow-eyed. At her lowest point the feline suddenly grew mute, either out of grief, stress, or a physical impairment. No one, not even Larkflower in her kindest tone, could seem to ease the reasoning of her silence from the tortoiseshell. At the very least, when needed, Saltsnarl would communicate via signal, though there was little she could get across with gestures.
It was the days she spent alone when this newfound silence really did some damage. The she-cat struggled to find a reason to hate her mate- to hate her so much it would dull down the pain of the grief. Garjaw had given her that reason, but it seemed this time she wouldn’t be as lucky.
There was her change of name. Saltsnarl hated the fact that the tabby warrior had asked for a new name to ‘honor her fallen friend Tansystep’. It was stupid, she had always preferred Olivefrost. But that wasn’t enough. There was the time when Olivestep had all but shut down her blossoming friendship with Ratwatcher without any good reason; but that too wasn’t enough.
Each time the mottled she-cat seemed to find a reason it was quickly shut down by logic. One thought led to another, and over time the she-cat was questioning her motives.
Why? Just why did she have to hate them in order to get over the pain?
Olivestep had never done any wrong to her and.. And neither had Garjaw. Both cats had loved her in their own ways- and she had loved them. Yet rather than cherish their memories she had somehow decided it was better to coat them in venom. The moons.. the seasons of unhappiness that she had endured were no one’s fault but her own.
Days after this revelation, as leaf-bare began to take hold of forest once more, Saltsnarl’s health began to decline rapidly. Her meals were constantly turned away, leading her to grow thinner and thinner with each passing day. The visits from Larkflower and Stormcry became more frequent as the she-cat’s approaching death was more apparent.
It was the middle of the night when the she-cat at last passed on; Stormcry and Larkflower pressed nearby. Yet, despite their semi-comforting presence, her final moments were filled with terror. Shadows flickered taunting from the edges of her vision; Garjaw’s growling face and Olivestep’s disgusted frown seemed to haunt them.
Saltsnarl wasn’t ready to see them again. Olivestep would surely turn her away. Garjaw wouldn’t even acknowledge her. Guppyheart.. if her son was among them, would he look to her anymore? Or would he know of her wrongdoings and shun her? Frognose.. oh dear Stars, she would certainly have a number of things to say. The list went on: Curlewcry, Thornclaw, Egretstar, Turtlepool, Batnose… Snakethorn…
She couldn’t face them. She didn’t want to face them.
The only thing Saltsnarl wanted was a dark place to hide.
When the warrior’s spirit awoke, she would find herself not in StarClan’s bountiful hunting grounds, but within the hollow expanses of the Forest of No Stars. As it’s name suggested, the sky above was crisscrossed with the branches of lifeless trees. Undergrowth was sparse, though an eerie mist seemed to provide plenty of cover.
Not that it was needed; not a single sound could be heard above the hard silence. There was no scuttling prey, no rainfall, no crunch of earth underpaw. Everything appeared desolate.
Emphasis on appeared.
Without knowing of the other souls that existed within this wayward hell, Saltsnarl would begin to wander. There were no set paths or anyway of telling direction, so the she-cat let her paws carry her to and fro on whim. After an indeterminate amount of time, she would come across a set of voices. Had she known any better the warrior would have turned tail and fled, but there was no way she could have.
And so she let her curiosity guide her forward. It wasn’t long before she could make out a group of figures among the gloom; their voices were hushed, but they seemed to be conversing contentedly. The ones furthest from her were lost to the fog, however there was one she was able to make out almost instantly. It belonged to the cat she had once longed to see return to her- though now that sentiment was furthest from the truth.
In the same moment that she noticed Garjaw, he turned to look over his shoulder. Their gazes met for only a second, and though he gave no notable reaction to her presence it was clear she was not wanted. Her paws ached to flee, but her tongue wanted otherwise. An apology swelled in her throat- yet nothing would come of it. No words would ever do him justice.
With nimble and swift steps, Saltsnarl would descend further into the darkened forest. What remained of her mind frayed until there was nothing left but taunting shadows who flickered just out of reach. The facade of a peaceful rest was long gone, instead she was damned to an eternity of regret and misery.
Perhaps she deserved it.
When RiverClan was at last able to return to their rightful camp it was not the homecoming many were expecting. Twoleg trash had found its way into their waters, killing off fish and any cat foolish enough to go sticking scum into their mouths. Only halfway into new-leaf RiverClan once again had to turn their dependence onto land-caught prey.
The Clans, all five of them, didn’t manage well against the poisoned river. It wasn’t long thereafter that Twolegs made themselves apparent in the territories- in numbers that the cats had never known. In one fell swoop these creatures destroyed what remained of ThunderClan, then swiftly fell into targeting the others. Cats from all around the territories were snatched and consequently never seen again.
From that point on everything seemed to fall apart. The Clans shrank in population, either from death or abandonment; Gatherings were sporadic until they too faded away; StarClan themselves seemed to fall silent as the Clans began to grow distance from one another. And yet RiverClan held on.
Throughout the tragedies Saltsnarl remained strong willed. Her life continued as normal- She patrolled, she hunted, she laid beside Olivestep each night, she watched over her kits (albeit from a distance). The grouchy she-cat even made an extra effort to spend more time with her former apprentice, Larkflower. For a while, everything seemed alright.
It was seasons later that fate dealt a cruel blow, taking away the cat that meant most to the mottled warrior- the cat that had brought her back from the brink of insanity and gave her a reason to stick around. After managing to track down each and every cat who she’d ever done wrong, Olivestep was gifted a peaceful death. The old tabby warrior fell still in the nest of her adopted son, Gullthorn, his fading scent easing her into the next life.
Ironically, this was the one night Saltsnarl had not spent with her, leaving the tortoiseshell to feel just as shocked and grief-stricken as the rest of her Clan. She denied the news at first, outright snarling in the face of the cat who delivered it. When she was shown to the body, the tortoiseshell all but broke down on the spot. Memories of Garjaw’s death resurfaced, and this time no one was there to offer her any comfort. Saltsnarl carried on sluggishly the days thereafter, before giving up entirely after the disappearance of Guppyheart.
Saltsnarl retired early to the elder’s den at that point; though still a warrior in name no one gave her any trouble for it, save for the gloomy whispers every now and again. The she-cat suffered through both good and bad days; the former were usually spent in Larkflower or Stormcry’s company, while during the latter Saltsnarl would refuse to leave the den for days on end.
The once fierce warrior remained as nothing more than a shell of herself: quiet, meek, hollow-eyed. At her lowest point the feline suddenly grew mute, either out of grief, stress, or a physical impairment. No one, not even Larkflower in her kindest tone, could seem to ease the reasoning of her silence from the tortoiseshell. At the very least, when needed, Saltsnarl would communicate via signal, though there was little she could get across with gestures.
It was the days she spent alone when this newfound silence really did some damage. The she-cat struggled to find a reason to hate her mate- to hate her so much it would dull down the pain of the grief. Garjaw had given her that reason, but it seemed this time she wouldn’t be as lucky.
There was her change of name. Saltsnarl hated the fact that the tabby warrior had asked for a new name to ‘honor her fallen friend Tansystep’. It was stupid, she had always preferred Olivefrost. But that wasn’t enough. There was the time when Olivestep had all but shut down her blossoming friendship with Ratwatcher without any good reason; but that too wasn’t enough.
Each time the mottled she-cat seemed to find a reason it was quickly shut down by logic. One thought led to another, and over time the she-cat was questioning her motives.
Why? Just why did she have to hate them in order to get over the pain?
Olivestep had never done any wrong to her and.. And neither had Garjaw. Both cats had loved her in their own ways- and she had loved them. Yet rather than cherish their memories she had somehow decided it was better to coat them in venom. The moons.. the seasons of unhappiness that she had endured were no one’s fault but her own.
Days after this revelation, as leaf-bare began to take hold of forest once more, Saltsnarl’s health began to decline rapidly. Her meals were constantly turned away, leading her to grow thinner and thinner with each passing day. The visits from Larkflower and Stormcry became more frequent as the she-cat’s approaching death was more apparent.
It was the middle of the night when the she-cat at last passed on; Stormcry and Larkflower pressed nearby. Yet, despite their semi-comforting presence, her final moments were filled with terror. Shadows flickered taunting from the edges of her vision; Garjaw’s growling face and Olivestep’s disgusted frown seemed to haunt them.
Saltsnarl wasn’t ready to see them again. Olivestep would surely turn her away. Garjaw wouldn’t even acknowledge her. Guppyheart.. if her son was among them, would he look to her anymore? Or would he know of her wrongdoings and shun her? Frognose.. oh dear Stars, she would certainly have a number of things to say. The list went on: Curlewcry, Thornclaw, Egretstar, Turtlepool, Batnose… Snakethorn…
She couldn’t face them. She didn’t want to face them.
The only thing Saltsnarl wanted was a dark place to hide.
When the warrior’s spirit awoke, she would find herself not in StarClan’s bountiful hunting grounds, but within the hollow expanses of the Forest of No Stars. As it’s name suggested, the sky above was crisscrossed with the branches of lifeless trees. Undergrowth was sparse, though an eerie mist seemed to provide plenty of cover.
Not that it was needed; not a single sound could be heard above the hard silence. There was no scuttling prey, no rainfall, no crunch of earth underpaw. Everything appeared desolate.
Emphasis on appeared.
Without knowing of the other souls that existed within this wayward hell, Saltsnarl would begin to wander. There were no set paths or anyway of telling direction, so the she-cat let her paws carry her to and fro on whim. After an indeterminate amount of time, she would come across a set of voices. Had she known any better the warrior would have turned tail and fled, but there was no way she could have.
And so she let her curiosity guide her forward. It wasn’t long before she could make out a group of figures among the gloom; their voices were hushed, but they seemed to be conversing contentedly. The ones furthest from her were lost to the fog, however there was one she was able to make out almost instantly. It belonged to the cat she had once longed to see return to her- though now that sentiment was furthest from the truth.
In the same moment that she noticed Garjaw, he turned to look over his shoulder. Their gazes met for only a second, and though he gave no notable reaction to her presence it was clear she was not wanted. Her paws ached to flee, but her tongue wanted otherwise. An apology swelled in her throat- yet nothing would come of it. No words would ever do him justice.
With nimble and swift steps, Saltsnarl would descend further into the darkened forest. What remained of her mind frayed until there was nothing left but taunting shadows who flickered just out of reach. The facade of a peaceful rest was long gone, instead she was damned to an eternity of regret and misery.
Perhaps she deserved it.