Why am I still here? (Willow)

[gray]

The warm sunrays absorbed into the rough tumble of boulders that so much blood had been spilled over; over the years, Sunningrocks had swapped between ThunderClan and RiverClan control so often that it was ridiculous. Who could really say who truly owned the rights to the coveted piece of territory anymore? The lines were blurred, just as were the lines between right and wrong, life and death, decency and evil. Nowadays, there was never anything to be certain of. Cedarclaw himself wasn’t too sure of anything himself, anymore. When he was a simple loner, things were fairly black and white. Simple. Easy. He missed that simplicity, that peace; Clan life was full of drama, each life nothing but a spectacle, a show to put on. He was a proud and honorable sort of cat, and this slow decline in the once-honorable Clans was contemptible.

Cedarclaw would have rather referred to himself as simply ‘Cedar’, his loner name. The name his mother gave him, the only name he would ever need. However, Leopardstar had insisted he take on a Clan name—probably for some sort of ‘Clan unity’ or other such propaganda. No matter what anyone told him, Cedar still bought none of the Clan propaganda. He could barely form the desire to stay in the Clan now, without thinking deeper into it.

word count // 222
ooc comments // gawd, this sucks, sorry :/ I have had no muse for like a week xD
tags // willow

[willow]

The day was warm and comforting with the sun out from hiding and casting its golden light upon the forest. The river was glistening as rays danced upon the ruffled surface as it carved through the land and poured out into places beyond what was known to the Clans.

A single tom cat swam purposefully towards the bathed boulders that made the Sunningrocks. With powerful strokes of his legs, tail out behind to steer him towards the nearing shore, he made it there in a matter of seconds. So it was with every Riverclan cat; Water was their element and within it they flourished. Pulling himself onto the bank, the tom stood dripping before giving his body a good shake, sending rainbow drops through the air and landing on whatever surface was near enough for them to cling to. His patchwork pelt of black and white fur slicked tightly against his slimming, muscular frame, bringing out the handsome in this large Riverclan tom.

Patchfur had set out for the rocks today just to get away, to be free of seeing all the skinny pelts of his fellow clan-mates. It was ironic how he decided to come to the one place where so much Riverclan and Thunderclan blood had been spilt, where cats had given their last breaths for a cluster of big rocks at the river. It was, to plainly say it, stupid. Why fight over something so trivial, so small and it didn't even bring in as much prey as most thought? Maybe it was just a matter of pride. Or maybe it was Starclan's way of keeping Thunderclan and Riverclan pitted against each-other. Well, I bet they're having second thoughts now. With all of this blood-shed between the four, it's childish that we continue to battle for a bunch of warm rocks.

As he was nearing the Sunningrocks, he spotted an out of place, yet familiar, being standing off against the shadows of Thunderclan's forest. "Cedarclaw, is that you?" Patchfur mewed with a smile, resisting bounding over to his friend but instead leaping onto the rocks and looking down at the tabby tom through his masked gray eyes. The stone felt soothingly hot beneath his wet, cool pads.

Of course he knew it was Cedarclaw, he could never mistake that tom for anyone else. He was his mate's brother and the one friend he could really count on. Patchfur hadn't said it before but Cedarclaw was like his own brother and was constantly worrying that the brown tom would decide to leave the clan again and go loner again...for good.

[gray]

Rough stone beneath his paws, the sun at his back—it was so peaceful and the solitude soothed his exhausted mind, calming his thoughts. Cedar closed his mellow green eyes, the faintest trace of a purr rising in his chest, with his head raised to the sky. The river behind him slopped noisily against its banks and the scent of a Clanmate reached his nose. Without opening his eyes—Cedarclaw recognized the scent –he flicked his whiskers and let the cat come to him. “Cedarclaw, is that you?” called a familiar voice. The voice belonged to a striking black-and-white patched tomcat, Cedarclaw’s only true friend and confidant within the Clan. Cedarclaw’s whiskers twitched in amusement; of course Patchfur knew it was him. Patchfur would always know.

Without turning around, Cedar flopped heavily onto the rocks, belly down on the warm surface. He rolled his muscled shoulders and extended his claws in a semi-awkward half-stretch. “You already know the answer to that question, you useless lump of fur,” rumbled Cedarclaw, angling his ears backwards. Patchfur’s familiar scent washed over his senses. Patchfur was, honestly, the only cat in the Clan that Cedar never got angry with, the only cat he could work with on a consistent basis, and the only cat he would ever trust his secrets and health and safety to. “What brings you to this miserable heap of boulders today?” Many RiverClanners didn’t truly feel secure here at Sunningrocks, due to its long, bloody, disputed history. Although RiverClan currently held the rights to the rocks, it had been under ThunderClan control for long enough to make RiverClan uneasy.

Cedar, being a rather special case and really more of a loner at heart, didn’t feel any more uneasy here than anywhere else belonging to the Clans.

word count // 296
ooc comments // I’m getting back into things now! xD
tags // willow

[willow]

Patchfur chuckled at his friend's response, narrowing his gray eyes at the tom as if to portray a false sense of hurt that was shattered by the grin spreading wider across his maw. Already he could feel his spirit's lifting at seeing Cedarclaw so content and at ease, even though this wasn't the place he could be relaxing freely. Who knew when another Thunderclan patrol would crash the party and try to steal back the rocks. "Hmph, so I do, my friend. But did you know it was I?"

The black and white patchwork slinked down in over-exaggerated stealthiness, his movements slow so his steps showed how his muscles rippled from training and exercise. "What if I had been one of those stinking Shadowclan cats, looking for more prey to take back to their swamps? And I just so happened to stumble upon a plump Riverclan cat to roll into the river?" Patchfur jeered, creeping up to the tabby and prodding his belly with a paw for emphasis. Of course he was only joking around, Riverclan cats were far from being well-fed and Shadowclan wouldn't be so stupid to attack their allies.

Moving onto answering Cedarclaw's question, Patchfur placed his rump on the ground before sliding down onto his side a tail-length away. "I had to get out of camp. It's getting a bit too much for me to see everyone thinning out." He started off grimly, then side-ways glanced Cedarclaw with a smirk. "I mean look at me! I'm practically wasting away!" The tom complained jokingly, flicking his black tail towards his belly.

Narrowing his eyes some at the tom, Patchfur half-smiled and nodded at him to ask him the same question. "What brings you here, Cedarclaw?"

[gray]

With a contradicting combination of hurt gray eyes, soft laugh, and wide grin, Patchfur retorted, “Hmph, so I do, my friend. But did you know it was I?”

[/I] Cedar rolled his eyes although his friend wouldn’t see it from their current positions. He heard the soft slithering sound of the black-and-white tom slinking slowly across the rocks towards him. “What if I had been one of those stinking ShadowClan cats, looking for more prey to take back to their swamps?”[/I] Cedarclaw shuddered at the thought of swamps—water wetness was bad enough, without it being rotting water wetness as well. “And I just so happened to stumble upon a plump RiverClan cat to roll into the river?”[/I] Patchfur placed a sharp prod to Cedar’s stomach, drawing a grudging smile. Cedar’s smiles weren’t so much smiles as a slightly less grim expression.

Cedarclaw gave a dismissive sweep of his tail, stirring up the dirt and dust on the rocks. “Quite a pitiful roll I would make, and even more pitiful splash.” Patchfur sat down heavily a little ways to the side and slightly behind Cedarclaw; the stocky brown tabby shifted to face the patchwork tom. Answering his earlier question, Patchfur said, “I had to get out of camp. It’s getting a bit too much for me to see everyone thinning out.” Cedarclaw nodded in agreement. It pained him to know that all his hard work turned out to have so little contribution. Patchfur then smirked and glanced at him; Cedar rolled his eyes before Patchfur even spoke. “I mean, look at me! I’m practically wasting away!”[/I] After a pause in which Cedar declared the Patchfur was indeed wasting away to nothing more than shadow, he asked, “What brings you here, Cedarclaw?”[/I]

Cedar stretched languidly before answering. He dispelled the joking mood in much the same way he would swipe a fly away with his tabby-striped tail; he turned a somber gaze on his friend. “Poplar,” he said simply, angling his ears towards his right. His sister Poplar—renamed Poplarleaf by the Clan –slumbered peacefully beneath hard-packed dirt beside Sunningrocks. Poplar had loved the sunlight and the warmth so, and hated getting her paws wet. A misfit, like him. Cedarclaw sorely missed his sister; with her, he had felt like less of an unwanted outcast. He came here sometimes to be by her, sometimes to speak to her, and sometimes just to be outside himself.

word count // 403
ooc comments // I’ll try not to take so long next time, I promise!
tags // willow

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[willow]

"I doubt any of us would make a satisfactory splash." Patchfur agreed, knowing little else to say. Seeing the forced smile from Cedarclaw was better than having that permanent grim look . He swore if the tom kept frowning like that, his face would get stuck like that. Then again, there was a lot that had happened in the cat's life that gave him reason to be stuck in the gloom, more things that any cat should go through. But there was always a bright side, a future to look forward to...unfortunately, his friend only seemed focused on the here and now. He couldn't blame Cedarclaw for that though...sometimes dreaming only made things hurt worse.

Patchfur knew something was up the moment he arrived, it was something he had felt deep in his gut and he absolutely never doubted his gut-feeling, however annoying it may be. "Poplar," The very mention of her name made the feeling worse, like a hurricane within himself, and all the light that was in his gray eyes dulled. He wanted to turn away so badly but then he would see the earth was his Poplarleaf was packed under...and it hurt so badly to have his mind wander to what she was under there, to think of what had happened before, to imagine what could have been. Poplarleaf...do you still think of me as much as I think of you....?

At that point, the patch work tom knew he had to say something, but the right words were really hard to find. "Do you remember the day you were leaving the clan and Poplarleaf flat out refused to go with you?" Patchfur asked in a more somber tone but a familiar, far off spark started in his gray eyes as he met Cedarclaw's, a half-smile and barely discernible laugh in his voice as he spoke though he had to swallow back the lump in his throat.

(ooc: OH GOSH...this post sucks...so sorry, better ones will come >-<)

[gray]

The shift in the atmosphere was practically tangible. Patchfur’s gleaming gray eyes grew distant and melancholy; Cedarclaw observed the change in the patched cat’s attitude, a bit surprised to notice the change in his own demeanor. The brown tabby cat and black-and-white patched cat lay near each other on a pile of lifeless boulders, brought together by a shared grief and suffering of two different kinds. It was an almost funny thought—the fact that his sister had, in tearing apart the world in her death, brought two very different felines together. An unexpected convergence, mused the broad-shouldered tabby tom. He still marveled at how different he was from his aquatically inclined Clanmates. He was all huge paws, broad shoulders, and stocky body while most others were sleek, streamlined, glossy-furred, and graceful. It only added to his sense of not belonging.

After a significantly despondent silence, Patchfur spoke quietly. His tone somber, but his eyes sparking to life in an unexpected mixture of agony and happiness, he said, “Do you remember the day you were leaving the Clan and Poplarleaf flat out refused to go with you?”

[/I] A sad little half-smile lightly touched the face of his friend and a small laugh bubbled from his throat. It was so strange, that mixture of conflicting emotions—sorrow and joy, heartache and healing, anger and peace. The desire to wail and rage at something, and yet simultaneously, the calm urge to lay down and stargaze.

Cedar harrumphed indignantly. “Do I ever,” he muttered. “Well, she never was one to let others make decisions for her.” Indeed, Poplar had been a strong cat—independent, smart, confident. When she was around, the mistrust of the Clan hadn’t mattered. His lack of patriotism towards said Clan hadn’t mattered. He had never felt ostracized, as he did now. It was simply something about having another who understood, who could relate, with whom commiseration was possible. He missed his sister more deeply than he had words to express, with a slowly stinging sorrow that seemed tremendously painful—to painful to bear –and, at the same time, sweeter than any other emotion ever felt. It was times like these—times when he could hardly bear the grief –when he felt closest to Poplar. Cedarclaw had lost Hemlock when he was a mere kit. He had lost Larch soon after to another name, and another identity. The only family he had left was a father with whom his relationship was awkward, strained, and very shallow. He barely knew his father.

Cedar’s green eyes were far away, lost in thoughts and ponderings. It was pleasant to be able to sit with someone such as Patchfur; another with whom he shared a common suffering, someone else who could relate to how he felt, someone who understood without speaking. “Smart, though. And strong, too…” he trailed off quietly. It had been many moons since he had had to swallow past a lump in his throat. It was as though, with the passing of time, the grief grew greater and greater until it could no longer manifest in any physical way without tearing him apart. Why did I not leave after she did…

word count // 530
ooc comments // I like where this is going(:
tags // willow

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[willow]

The ache on his heart was something constantly with him since Poplarleaf's death, but doing more than just thinking about her, to talk to someone about her made the pain easier to bear. The only other person he could talk to openly about his fallen mate was her own brother, Cedarclaw. Perhaps this exchange of memories would be a healing to the both of them.

Patchfur couldn't help but bubble a small laugh at his friend's reply, nodding in agreement. The indigence was a sort of comfort him, knowing that bringing up something they both remembered wasn't an irritation but rather something that Cedarclaw was going to openly communicate about. It was rare that the tom was open about anything, he was just so tense and quiet around everyone, though Patchfur tended to be an exception. For that, he was grateful.
Poplarleaf was a strong she-cat who wouldn't let anyone but herself decide her life course. More than anything, Patchfur was felt so honored she chose to have him in her life, to want to bear his kits...

The tom felt his breath catch in his throat at the thought. The kits...that was what had taken Poplarleaf from him. If it wasn't for him mentioning the kits, for giving her the means to bear his children, she wouldn't have gotten sick and died. It was his fault she was gone, he would always bear the guilt that came with knowing he contributed to her death.

Patchfur mentally shook his head and looked back sadly at his friend, welcomed by the sight of his green eyes lost in thought. He seemed...tranquil, despite the subject of their dicussion. Patchfur couldn't help but agree with Cedarclaw. "Yes...she was." He said, voice cracking at the ends of his sentence but he still held a smile, however small it was. "She was kind as well. I admired her a lot like I admire you." Patchfur smiled lop-sided, looking over at Cedarclaw with honest gray eyes. It was true, he greatly admired the two for their devotion to the clan, their readiness and strength and conviction yet still keeping true to themselves. Their other sister...she seemed to have lost sight of who she was before and who she had left behind.

"She would have been a great mother..." the patchwork tom almost whispered, looking away at the sky, feeling his eyes starting to prick with tears, his voice choking out. Poplarleaf would have been a fantastic mother for their kits...but that simple dream was her undoing. Did Cedarclaw blame him as much as he blamed himself?

[gray]

If only the weather could have mimicked how he felt inside; his inner agony might manifest in the form of a violent raging thunderstorm or a heavy gale of winds. However, the day remained beautiful and bright, gentle and promising and full of life. Cedarclaw reflected that perhaps it was a positive thing the weather didn’t respond to how he felt—the weather would surely kill them all if it did. His friend glanced at him sidelong, a grieved smile on his face. “Yes… she was,” agreed Patchfur in an unsteady voice that trembled with sadness. “She was kind as well. I admired her a lot like I admire you.”

[/I] The black-and-white tom’s gaze, so open and sincere, pierced him to the core. Not for the first time since kithood, Cedar desperately wished that his other sister could have remembered her past with fondness and respect, rather than disgust and terror. “She would have been a great mother…” Patchfur murmured, almost to himself.

At the beginning, when Cedarclaw had just given up his loner status and grudgingly taken a Clan name after Poplar’s death, he had been sorely tempted to blame the patch-furred tom for his sister’s death. After all, if Poplarleaf had just agreed to come with him… However, as he grieved he’d found his sister’s mate to be so damned likeable that he just couldn’t bring himself to blame Patchfur. Patchfur was the only cat that understood his anguish and shared his grief; the only other cat that maybe blamed himself the way Cedar blamed himself. Misery sure did love company.

It must have been the contrast between the beautiful day and the sorrow within the broad-shoulder tabby tom’s heart, but Cedar felt unusually forthcoming and honest with his thoughts today. She certainly did keep us in line as kits,” he replied. “Always telling me what to do, I swear she’s the bossiest cat I’ve ever known. Near as stubborn as me, I suppose. Wonderful sister…” he trailed off, remembering the troubled moons after his mother’s death, unable to understand why his father had gone for a hotheaded nonconformist such as his mother.

word count // 355
ooc comments // none
tags // willow

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[willow]

Patchfur was so conflicted inside. His personality conflicted with his grief; He wanted to laugh and cry and smile and spit at the same time. The pain of losing Poplarleaf and the need to not be a total downer was throwing him back and forth between how he felt and how he felt he should feel. It was like being stuck in a current; Should he battle it or let it take him?

Cedarclaw was reveling in Poplarleaf's memory rather than her death itself. It was a relief when he went along with the topic of kits but it caused another stab in his chest, tightening his breaths a bit more. Bossy she was, but never cruel to those she loved. he thought with a quirk of a smile, taking a long look at the bright sky before looking down at his paws. If she was so good to her siblings...she would have been as good or even better to their kits.

The black and white tom made a decision to stand up and stretched, bones popping from the time he had spent on the rocks. His fur was nice and warm from the sun but inside he was still as cold as always...lacking that warmth Poplarleaf had given him while she was here. Looking at Cedarclaw, a look of friendship and pain was apparent in his expression. He wanted to go on about Poplarleaf all day, but it killed him inside when all his good thoughts of her went back to her death...to how he was so responsible for the lives lost that day and he wasn't even there to say good-bye. He needed to take his mind away from that or it would seep through his body like a poison and he wouldn't be able to function.

"I don't doubt that at all." Patchfur agreed, stealing a last glance at the sky and then back down to the tabby tom, a 'hmph' of a laugh passing through his lips. "She was a pretty fast learner, too. Didn't take too long for her to learn to fish." He knew what he was doing, preparing to ask a question to get their bodies going along with their minds. He wanted to do it gradually, so Cedarclaw didn't think he didn't want to talk about Poplarleaf. He did...he really did...but...

[gray]

It always seemed so strange; Cedar awoke each morning, half expecting his sister to be prodding him in the side and ordering him to start the day. He wished she had come with him when he left the Clan, that she had left behind everything and saved herself, that she had listened to him just one time. They could have lived on the outskirts of Clan territory, away from all the chaos; Poplar could have met another loner and they could have had beautiful kits together. He might have been an uncle. He might not have even been so grumpy.

However, that line of thinking was unfair to Patchfur. Patchfur had done nothing wrong. Cedarclaw supposed it was only natural for him to think this way. Survivor’s guilt, it was called; he hadn’t been there for Poplarleaf when she needed him. He had left her behind just because he hated the Clan. He should have learned by then that family was the only important tie, but he had broken his own golden rule and run off on his own. It wasn’t Poplar’s fault that he never had and never would belong in RiverClan.

Cedar jerked his attention back to Patchfur. “She was a pretty fast learner, too. Didn’t take long for her to learn to fish.”

[/I] Pulling a face at the word ‘fish’, Cedar harrumphed indignantly. “I will never understand what possessed her to stick her poor paws in water like someone possessed,” he griped. Had he remained in the Clan by his sister’s side like he was supposed to, Poplarleaf would have teased him. She’d have maybe pushed him into the shallow part of the river, or flung the fish in his face and commanded him to take a bite. Suddenly, Cedarclaw realized how little he knew about his sister anymore. “Did she—did she like fish?” he asked, his voice flat and unemotional. He’d always thought of them as the same, as kindred spirits, but perhaps he was wrong. He was a quitter. He ran away and hid from what he didn’t like. He took the easy way out.

Poplar never had done that.

word count // 356
ooc comments // are you trying to convince Cedar to go fishing? xD
tags // willow

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[willow]

Patchfur could have laughed because of the look on Cedarclaw's face at his mentioning fish. He knew very well that the tom wasn't a fan of it at all, which separated him from Riverclan in a big way along with swimming, but he was loyal cat and he knew that the tom would defend his new home as if he were Clan-born. Just because he was an outsider, Patchfur tried not to treat him any differently from his other clan-mates and being his friend made it easier. Also, the opportunities to jest at the brown tabby were endless.

"Not all cats hate water as much as you, Cedarclaw." the patch-work tom chuckled, tail weaving behind him as he looked down, amused, at his companion. When he asked about Poplarleaf liking fish, Patchfur stretched his eyes wide and shook his head in exaggerated disagreement. "Oh, by Starclan, no! She didn't like them anymore than you did." Patchfur laughed, a twinkle in his expressive gray eyes. "That didn't stop her from doing what she knew was a way to provide for her clan. However much she didn't like getting her paws wet or 'those slimy fish', she agreed to try and learned well." His voice took on an appreciative tone as he went on, almost closing his eyes as he thought about how apprehensive the she-cat was about getting her paws in the water and catching flashing prey, how awkward she may have been at first, teaching her what he knew...good memories, light memories that he enjoyed dwelling on.


occ: Oooooohhhh yeaahhh xD ;D Sorry this is so short, my Patchfur muse is xP

[gray]

Cedar felt much better once Patchfur assured him that his sister had hated fish just as much as he had, even though she tried anyways. He provided for the Clan, sure, but he provided them something they were generally opposed to eating. Oh well, he thought, deciding to shrug it off. Prey is prey. He heaved a huge sigh and rose to his paws, stretching luxuriously in the sun. It was warm on his pelt, definitely worth sloshing through the river to get here. Although going back was another matter indeed. It certainly was not worth sloshing through the river to return back to camp, back to the smell of fish, back to looking and feeling like an outcast. Some days, it was all just too much. He was aware of the fact that he didn’t try very hard, but on the flipside, neither did the Clan. They had made little effort to make him feel like a Clanmate. Really, he was just that random cat who wasn’t Clanborn but helped them catch prey.

He hadn’t seriously considered leaving again until recently, when he received that obnoxious apprentice Minnowpaw. Each training session was, quite frankly, a complete and utter nightmare—with a bit of catastrophe and disaster mixed in, for good measure. Cedarclaw was just realizing exactly how unsuited for Clan life he truly was. He could hardly be considered a ‘team player’. He hated the very nature of his Clan (fish aversion, hello?) and he disliked what the Clans stood for. To top it all off, he couldn’t stand their attitudes and he really didn’t like being around young cats. With all of this in mind, he thought it was amazing—not in a good way –and surprising that he had even stuck around this long. He was an entirely un-Clan-like cat in general.

Deciding that he was thoroughly finished with wallowing for the day, Cedarclaw padded over to Patchfur and nudged him roughly with his shoulder. “I think I’m going to go hunting for a while—without fishing, thank you kindly,” he said. “I suppose I’ll see you back at camp later.” Mentally steeling himself for the slosh across the river, Cedar considered assuring his friend that he definitely would see him back at camp later. But with the question of ‘why am I still here?’ hanging over him at all times, there was no guarantee.

word count // 398
ooc comments // it feels like it’s about time to wrap this up to me
tags // willow

[willow]

Patchfur waited expectantly for an answer from the brown tabby, wondering if he had caught onto what the white and black tom had been hinting to. He really had hoped the two could do a bit of fishing, to get Cedarclaw out of his comfort zone and some prey back to the clan. Honestly, Patchfur was more apprehensive about hunting away from the river, with all those Shadowclannners running around stalking the shadows.

A hopeful light filled his chest when the tom got to his paws, taking a step back to give him room as he stretched. Cedarclaw was certainly taking his time in answering back Patchfur, but the patch work tom didn't really mind much and eagerly awaited the reply. He doubted that the tabby would actually want to go fishing, considering his obvious hatred of the sport, but there wasn't harm in trying to help his friend fit in, was there?

It was clear that the whole of Riverclan hadn't really accepted the previous loner, even if they gave him a warrior name and now an apprentice in Minnowpaw(how Patchfur pitied Cedarclaw). Patchfur had to admit he was wary of the tom at first, but now Cedarclaw was all he had left in connection to Poplarleaf and was one of his only friends whom he could share in memories of her. While everyone else forgot, they preserved her memory.

The black and white tom smirked and pushed the tabby with a paw forcefully, gray eyes dancing though he was trying to hide his disappointment in not being able to share in hunting. He could tell Cedarclaw was ready to leave, to be on his own, and he respected that. "Unless you happen to be pushed in the river." Patchfur rumbled with humor, flicking the tabby's shoulder with his black tail. "I think I'll head back now and check on things. Good luck with your hunting and be careful."

Patchfur decided he best take the initiative and leave Cedarclaw to his own devices. With a last look at his friend, the black and white tom strode towards the river and back to Riverclan's camp. He prayed to Starclan that he would see Cedarclaw again before the day was through...who knew when the tom might just disappear.