Google dot com says the traditional gift for a four year anniversary is fruit & flowers?? How festive! In honor of our fourth year on the world wide web, we are requesting bouquets and fruit baskets or cash donations to the whip-a-rain-fund 😌 Oooooorrr we guess...alternatively...we can put on a big, month-long celebration featuring a warm-and-fuzzy event, scavenger hunt, a raffle drawing, and a freakin' prize wheel??! See the September Announcements for more information, and don't forget to check out the September Patrols too!
The Apostles is a warrior cats roleplay based in northern Wisconsin. On Lake Superior, the wild cats have made the Apostle Islands their home. It is on these islands - Rocky Island and South Twin Island - that the clan and tribe cats have lived in a peace and harmony that ebbs and flows with the tide.
But as the tides turn, so does the truce that binds them to one another; and as the water raises, a darkness follows, an evil that will end in bloodshed and violence.
She'd gone from hunting to border lurking. She'd caught a single mouse, not even enough to feed her kits in this harsh weather. In her mounting frustration and inability to hunt, Duckpuddle had tossed the little scrap aside, letting it fall beneath the snow. She'd reclaim it later, probably.
Even though the war was done Duckpuddle wasn't. Her rage was insurmountable. Her frustration was even worse. Not only had they lost, a bitter fact Duckpuddle needed to accept, but now Yarrowstar had taken over. He was no more the tough brutal teacher and deputy Duckpuddle had come to respect. He was little more than a rogue as far as she was concerned. Some spoke of the power being rightfully his, of him being chosen by StarClan. It was nonsense. She'd worked for it, not him. She'd pretended to worship the stars for what?
"It was supposed to be mine. I was supposed to lead when that ragged old she-cat died." Duckpuddle muttered to herself.
A rustle in the bushes ahead caught her attention, and she turned, her attention snapping to the border's edge. Behind a pine tree, a skinny rogue was staring back at her. Their pelt was dirty and ragged. Duckpuddle's eyes narrowed into slits. She turned and approached the meek rogue.
"You're on LichenClan territory, you'd better scram!"
Before she could finish the warning, Duckpuddle went in for a hit, buffeting the rogue's face. They staggered backwards, falling into a makeshift battle stance. Nowhere could Duckpuddle see the refined training of a warrior. They were easy prey, falling victim to hit after hit. Just as Duckpuddle was lowering her paw for another smack, a flash of claws caught her attention. Before she realized it, her face felt hot and wet. Blood trickled down from a cut across her cheek to her muzzle. Duckpuddle hissed. Without warning, she struck out again, slicing the rogue's side in a long deep gash. Then finished it off with a sharp kick to send the rogue sprinting away.
Great, now she needed to get Briarfall or Lilacpaw to check out the scratch. That would lead to more questions. She might be able to fool Lilacpaw, but Briarfall was a seasoned medicine cat and knew what claw scratches looked like. When the rogue was far out of sight, Duckpuddle turned to head back. She vaguely remembered where her discarded prey lay. A bright red coat in the snow caught her attention. The cat was still small, smaller than any apprentice. He shouldn't be out of camp, especially not this far.
"Oh...Mama," Bonekit swallowed. The eye contact was intense, and the beating of his chest suggested he pull away. But still, he replied into her mossy stare and felt the droplets of sweat collected between his paw pads. "I uh.... I," the ginger tom cleared his throat and took a sigh. "I wanted to follow you and watch." Stated the kit factually. "But then I heard a bunch of screeching and wanted to make sure you were OK. It seems," then he glanced to the side and ferreted for his words. "It seems like you had everything handled. I almost feel sorry for the rogue." Then he grinned. Bonekit was a cat of few words but well articulated in their fashion for the youth beneath his pelt. While other kits babbled playful squees and worked to announce each syllable, Bonekit mulled the words slowly in his head, listened to others, and selected them with intent.
There was a pause. The morning birds played in the tree tops, and Bonekit, in his light hungry eyes, traced them and felt the urge to click, to call to them with the chattering of his gums. His whiskers pursed. There was so much brilliance in the outside world, the way in which, despite the cold that bit at his limbs, the light filtered down and painted them in an illuminating essence so freeing it almost seemed to levitate their forms. Outside, here, he felt he was flying.
"I'm sorry, for not listening and staying in the nest. But now that I'm here, will you teach me something?" Duckpuddle stood before him, dainty yet dangerous. Her fur was a milky star shine and sunsets among weaving charcoals and white. White, which was stained with running red from the gash on her face. Bonekit approached her, wearily looking at the blood. It was foreign. It was fresh. Without fear he licked at the cut. It tasted like iron, fresh kill but sweeter.
Blood dripping from her cheek, Duckpuddle stared down at her son. He was growing in size every day but was still tiny compared to her. His bones could break so easily. But despite being so small and weak, he approached her without any fear and licked her cheek clean. Duckpuddle stared at him. She expected kits to be whining, helpless things. But not her Bonekit. He was a little warrior.
"Very well. I doubt that rogue will be back anytime soon."
Duckpuddle huffed. She glanced at where they had left. The trees were still and motionless. Not a soul but the two of them were out here.
"Alright, I'll give you some special lessons. Just for you my son."
Duckpuddle moved to Bonekit's side. She pressed a paw on his back to push him down into a battle stance. With a few more nudges to his legs, she stepped away.
"Good, hold that stance."
Duckpuddle moved away and fell into her own matching crouch. She held it, hovering just off of the ground.
"When it comes to battle, nothing beats pure strength." She said. "Don't forget that. But for kits like you, you gotta make up for your puny size by being smart or fast."
Special lessons The only two words Bonekit seemed to hear, his eyes widening and maw spreading larger than it had ever gaped. Every tooth seemed to peek from his gums though not all had grown in, and mostly milk teeth lined where some day, scissor-like molars would sport. His mother rose to her feet. Bonekit could barely contain his excitement, a tiny squee murmuring from his lips as her pelt pressed beside him. Bonekit blinked. He swallowed, trying to steady his body and breaths. /I need to focus!/. A paw pressed gently on his back. Duckpuddle's nose, cold and inviting, repositioned his paws.
Good, Duckpuddle affirmed, stepping back. Bonekit tried to hold his position but was perhaps too careful, so stringent that he unnaturally froze, and his back legs shook, spreading a hair too wide. Sweat collected in his paws, too apprehensive to move. Duckpuddle then modeled a crouch. The tiny ginger kit wondered if he, too, looked that cool.
"Nothing beats pure strength," Bonekit repeated, nodding. He tried not to feel defeated, realizing that he would only be a fraction of the other cats size...even apprentices. But, there was hope. Bonekit could be fast and smart! He was always fast, outrunning some of the other nursery dwellers and even his brother Ghostkit! Something told him the gray kit was even really trying...it was annoying to beat someone who didn't care. Thrilling, it was to plummet another with hunger in their eyes. Even as a child, Bonekit knew that feat.
With a burst, Bonekit jumped and clambered onto his mother's legs. Instinctively, his back legs curled up, and he began to buck them, unsheathed claws vigorously pulsing. However, shallow brushes were his scores.
