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.
The days started to blend together. Every sunrise and sunset looked the same, dull and lifeless, a mirage of oranges and pinks with no grand promises of tomorrow. Hemlock only moved at his mother's prodding and incessant pleading to live, to not give up, but he was just barely clinging on, if only for her and for his children — if they were still alive. Were they ok? Or did Sumac dispose of them too? Just like he did to Fog and River? Nobody told him anything. The guards posted to keep him and the other prisoners in line refused to speak to them. They were the scum of the island, worse than pestering horse flies during the balmy days of summer.
Curled against his mother, Hemlock slipped in and out of a restless sleep as the storm raged above. The rain pelted them, slicking their already ragged coats to their bony bodies. There was hardly any shelter on the Rock Where All Wounds Heal, but even if there was, would they allow them to use it? Probably not. The floating isle was a memorial and herb garden, not a communal den or even a hunting ground like the others. Resting between the stacked stones, they were ordered to huddle together, their only grasp at warmth.
The guards refused to bring them prey too. They had to hunt for themselves on the abysmal shores and share whatever laughable fish they caught or an unsuspecting bird fluttering ashore.
Thunder exploded in the sky. Hemlock shifted, eyes fluttering open against the deluge as lightning struck. Wind and rain whipped at their faces, forcing him to squint. Numb to the island around him, Hemlock just turned slightly and tucked his nose into his pelt, curling his tail to block the onslaught. Nothing mattered anymore. Even the rain couldn't rouse him. But then a distant rumbling filled his ears.
What was that?
Hemlock lifted his head, squinting toward the sound. Was something coming? His eyes widened. A carnivorous wave of water thrashed violently into the shore, just a few bear-lengths away. It exploded into the surf and swallowed the sand whole. Another ginormous wave rode on its back, ready to make landfall. Hemlock pushed himself to his paws, careening his neck to get a better look. The entire lake was surging toward them, choppy and unsafe.
"Maple," he urged, pawing her desperately to wake up. The she-cat sputtered awake beside him, as did the other prisoners. "We have to get to higher land, now," he meowed. It was the first time in days that his voice sounded anything like himself. "The isle," he breathed. "It's going to be underwater."
Hemlock’s arrival to her prison island had left Maple feeling a slew of conflicting emotions. Though she had been exceptionally lonely in her imprisonment, she had not for a moment wished for one of her own to be sent into this pseudo-exile with her. Furthermore, learning of the circumstances of her son’s punishment had left her broken-hearted. He had lost his mate and been torn from his kits in the same instant.
Maple had curled herself around her son, protecting him with her body as if he was still tiny. She tended to him tirelessly, at least, as much as he would allow. When she had lost Lake, the one thing she knew is that she would never wish that pain on any cat. At least then she had had Hemlock and later Fog. Her son didn’t even have his own children to comfort him.
When the rain started, there was hardly any place to take shelter. The pair hardly even tried to look, so sure they were that they would be denied by their guards. Maple had been left wondering how the tribe could have come to this. One thing she had always been able to count on was the sense of family and community shared by the entire tribe. So how could cats that they had grown up with be okay with denying them basic comforts like food and dry nests?
Thunder clapped above them and Hemlock shifted at her side, but Maple only squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. The calico tried her hardest to block out the sounds of the storm. After all, she couldn’t hunt for them if she had no energy. Yet, there was something in her instincts that wouldn’t let her rest as long as her son fidgeted beside her.
Maple.
Amber eyes fluttered open and her head lifted. Hemlock’s urgent voice seized her attention and she scrambled to her paws. Fear caught in her throat when she turned to witness the waves her son warned of. “Higher ground,” she agreed immediately. “Right. Go, now!” Nudging Hemlock’s flank sharply, the mother pushed him ahead. “I’m right behind you,” she promised. Already water lapped at her ankles, but she didn’t start off until Hemlock took the lead. She would not offer any chance to leave her kit behind, not after all she had lost.
Rain whipped at his face, nearly pelting them sideways from the blustering winds. He braced himself as the water surged inward and brushed against their paws, waiting for his mother to scramble beside him. With a sharp gasp, she nudged his flank, urging him to run. But he didn't move, not at first. Hemlock only stared into the hungry current.
River…
He longed to go to her. The intrusive thought was so consuming, so mind-numbingly powerful, he nearly gave in and succumbed to the waves, desperate for his suffering to cease, to be united with his mate.
Maple crashed into him.
Hemlock stumbled forward, sliding awkwardly through the bleeding lake. Then his paws started moving of their own accord, thundering toward the crest of the hill. It didn't take long to reach it. The isle was small, surrounded by water on all sides. Chest heaving, Hemlock glanced around, trying to find the highest vantage point while his mother panted at his flank. Only a tower of stacked rocks rose from the earth before them. They had no other choice.
He glanced over his shoulder. Wave after wave crashed into the shore, pushing water toward them at a frightening rate. It gurgled and rose. "We'll have to climb," he gasped, turning back to his mother and gesturing to the stacked stones. Rain dredged their fur to their very bones, already thin and ragged from seasons of hunger. "I don't know what else there is for us to do."
Sumac wants us to die.
Gritting his teeth, Hemlock leapt onto the first rock, then eased onto the next, stepping gingerly onto the thin ledges. The stones weren't very big, and rested against each other haphazardly. With the onslaught of rain, they also proved difficult to climb, their backs slippery and wet. They'd have to perch upon them carefully, or risk tumbling into the flood waters below. Leaping onto the next stone, Hemlock teetered before regaining his footing. He glanced back at his mother.
Maple worried for a moment that she was going to have to shout at Hemlock again. She had seen the far off look on his face as he stared at the rising water and she didn’t like it one bit. It mirrors her own miserable expression after Lake had died. She had had Hemlock to cling to then and a short time later she had had Fog. She was ready to launch into a speech about how he needed to hold on for the sake of the kits he would surely see again one day, but it wasn’t necessary.
At her final shove, he seemed to slowly return to reality and the pair began to flee. The water dragged at her fur, easily tossing her starving body this way and that but determination kept her standing. Her slender son hardly fared much better. Though she shivered with cold, her breath came in ragged pants that left her chest aching. Hemlock paused and Maple was grateful for the rest, but they didn’t have much time to figure out their next move.
Hemlock declared that they would have to climb and Maple gulped, following his gaze up the stack of stones. It was hardly a good option, but it was the only option. At last, the tortoiseshell nodded. “You’re right,” she yowled above the blustering winds. Dragging herself from the water, she hauled herself onto the first stone. Claws extended in a desperate attempt to grip the slick stones, but still her paws slipped.
First one paw fell from the shelf and took the rest of her balance with it. With a shriek, Maple fell back into the water. She was under for only a moment before bursting free again and clambering back up the stones. “It’s okay!” she panted as she caught up with her son. “It will be okay.” But would it? Though it seemed they were safe for the moment from the flood, clinging to the stones offered them no shelter from the rain.
"Mother!" Hemlock shouted as Maple tumbled into the water below, a shriek erupting from her maws. Helplessly, he perched upon the stone, body readying to jump in after her. One, two—she emerged from the waves, gasping and scrambling for the stones. In one swift motion, she was already beside him, and he was hoisting her up by the scruff. They leaned against each other as she tried to convince him it would all be alright.
Would it?
Hemlock searched her face. They were thinking the exact same thing, weren't they?. "Okay," he whispered. Everything—from the roaring flood to Sumac to the death of his mate—all of it desperately said otherwise. It was only going to get worse, so much worse, but clinging to the stones beside his mother, his only solace—?
Hemlock could not bear to say it.
His spirit was already long broken and beyond repair. Why break hers too? One of them still deserved to believe in a better tomorrow. One of them deserved to continue fighting. So he only pushed his head against her shoulder as the waters raged below, and the rain pelted them from above. And Hemlock prayed, despite everything. He prayed to see the following sunrise. He prayed to survive the night, if only for his mother's sake. If only for his kits.
They perched upon the rocks until the rain stopped, until the golden sun broke over the horizon, and it illuminated the totality of the flood's destruction. The majority of the isle remained under waves of turbulent water; but for the time being, they were safe.
