Allegiances
You're a little surprised to see The Amber sitting outside in the clearing at first, until you see your father making the scramble up to the top of the shelter again. That's when you realise, oh, it must be The Wind's graduation!
By this point, you've seen enough of these ceremonies that you don't feel like you need to pay attention to what exactly your dad says during it. Instead, you look around at the slugcats around you, curious to see what everyone else is doing as they start to gather around you.
Everyone knows The Wind's worked her tail off all month to make absolutely sure she'd be able to graduate right after her fellows, so of course she's perched eagerly in the front with them. They all look so big now, even bigger than they were before! You had thought they looked like adults already when you were younger, but you can see now as you get closer to the age they were that you were dead wrong. They've filled out to become taller than that, too; you're never going to catch up to their height at this rate!!
The Amber is near the trio, close to the shelter entrance. Her head is tilted up, proud, and her eyes glimmer with a light even her usual stony expression can't hide. Now that you think about it though, even though she keeps her face flat and cold, she's not very scary at all.
It's like The Wind saying she made a joke to her during her apprentice ceremony; she's super nice, and likes funny things, you think! She just doesn't really emote very much, with her face or her body.
Though your mother is nearby, today your siblings have decided to settle down to either side of you, gripping one of your paws in both of their own. Now that this is their second ever ceremony, instead of their first, their eyes aren't quite as big anymore. Still, they're watching your dad as he speaks with rapt attention.
You, of course, know the basics of what he's saying, so you're content to go back to looking around.
Your mother is watching the crowd as well, more than your father - when you make eye contact with her, she winks at you and holds a digit up to her mouth, playful. Not that you've been talking either, but it makes you thump your tail on the ground a little, pleased, to see your mama going along with you.
The Broken is sitting with The Rain some distance away. She notices you watching her, and points at the shelter with her tail, a playful reminder as to what you're meant to be looking at. You stick your tongue out at her.
The Gull and The Whistler are both watching the proceedings with undisguised curiosity; you remember that there's no way The Gull would have been able to see the last few ceremonies since she joined after The Untouched's, and you wonder if The Saviour's clowder has ceremonies like this. How different are they?
Though, The Whistler has been here for a couple of months now? Now that you think about it, you're not sure they were out of the healer's den for any of the ceremonies. With the den being at the very back of the shelter, you guess they probably wouldn't have been able to hear very much of it at all.
Their jaw is still injured, but they had started sneaking out of their nest and the camp last month whenever The Little wasn't around, they were so bored, so they must be happy to be out here.
What you learn, from watching everyone else, is that not all of the slugcats are putting all their attention on the ceremony. The Bouncy is staring up, though you're not sure he's actually focused. The Olive is watching too, but she does occasionally glance away - when she notices you looking at her, she grins at you. The Little is looking on, seeming politely interested, but their twitching ears makes you think they might be counting the herbs they have in storage in their head, instead.
You guess that makes sense, because when you've been through so many you kind of know everything that happens! And it isn't as if they're not here and ready to honour her, they just already know the words - maybe even off by heart, when they're as old as The Little! Plus, The Little has a lot of stores to keep track of, so you suppose they might as well take the time to multitask. Still, the ones closest to The Wind are definitely focusing fully on it - and when you think about it, that makes sense too.
Even though you like The Wind, you know pretty much what your papa is going to say, so you don't need to listen to him say it all again. But if it was The Broken, well, that'd be The Broken! So of course you'd want to listen to it all, even if the way the ceremony goes is pretty much the same. Or what if it was your ceremony? Of course you'd be listening to him then!
And you definitely zone back in once The Wind climbs up to the shelter to stand beside The Pale. That's your cue to chant with the others, and you do! You're really happy for her. Plus, wasn't there some kind of test she had to pass? That sounds scary, so she must have done good to be able to beat that.
Your little siblings are also getting more used to the ceremonies; this time, both of them chant with a little more confidence, though The Spark still flattens her ears a little at all the cheers.
I celebrate your obedience, and I hope in future you'll continue to keep that listening heart of yours alert. Your father cracks a smile. It's not easy to temper doing what you're told with knowing when not to obey orders.
The Wind smiles back up at him, tail thumping her pleasure. Now that the ceremony is over, The Wild can safely start distributing the feast - and the two of them can climb back down the shelter again.
The Untouched immediately tackles The Wind in a hug, squeezing her tightly. I knew you could do it! Hah, now nothing's gonna be able to stop us from playing games together.
The New Sun presses in on the other side, murmuring something you just can't pick out. You wish she was less quiet, so you could know whatever she was saying that wasn't meant for you to hear!
Yes, except for duty or whatever, The Wind laughs her agreement, squeezing both of them back. And don't forget training! The Sun's going to have her paws full teaching the new pup. Honestly, it was a little weird both teaching her and being an apprentice with Gull.
Yeah, yeah, The Untouched mock-grumbles, finally releasing her. I'm your resident punching bag, and you'll never let me forget a single word I accidentally say wrong.
Pshhh, The Wind flicks him with her tail. As if it's our fault you say things wrong all the time. Maybe you should have thought things through before you said "rear lie", huh?
The Sun laughs quietly, and The Untouched lets out another fake huff, even going as far as to dramatically turn his back on the two of them. You have no idea what's so funny about it, though.
The Storm interrupts your thoughts when she swoops in, catching The Wild by surprise to tuck her head under The Storm's arm, then releasing her before she can even flail to get out.
Kha-hah! Still not fast enough to stop a plain old mediator, huh? She cackles and ruffles The Wind's ears, mussing up all of the fur on her head even more than she already did.
Like I could beat you! Everyone knows you were training survival as much as mediator! The Wind chirps her protest, but she's smiling too.
Well, congrats, The Storm grins at her. You earned that graduation, squirt. Oh, excuse me. I should call you something else now... How about "kiddo"?
You're not even that much older! The Wind laughs, shoving her.
I'm old at heart, kid, I'm old at heart. She lets the shove push her aside, and turns away with a merry flick of her tail to catch the food The Wild is throwing at her.
As you watch others of the clowder coming over to give their congratulations to The Wind too, excitement begins to pulse through you.
Next month, this will be you. You'll be having your own ceremony.
You're sitting on some metal jutting out of the sand, chatting with The Broken, when you hear the rapid rustling of someone running towards camp without caring who hears them do it. You stop swinging your feet and turn to look, as does she.
When The Bouncy bursts back through the brushes, Broken groans at first, but then you nudge her with your elbow and point to his expression. She falls silent at this, disturbed by the distress on his face.
Bouncy? The Wild asks, alert as ever despite having been just broken out of his nap by a pointed kick from The Rain. He gets to his feet, not bothering to brush the sand and dirt from his pelt, and hurries to the other slugcat's side. What's happened?
The Bouncy takes a deep, shuddering breath, then straightens to look at The Wild.
Sir, He begins, respectful as always - so normal for him that the next words somehow feel even more shocking. The Storm is dead.
You flatten your ears, stunned. Did you hear him right? The Storm is... How? Why?
The Wild clearly seems to be thinking similarly. He sets his jaw grimly, straightening his back, and nods at The Bouncy. Alright. Report.
Even as other slugcats murmur and pass on the news around you, the clearing quiet yet rapidly filling with bodies, The Bouncy has eyes only for The Wild, fixing his stare intently on meeting the deputy's gaze - not even for The Pale does he have anything to spare, when your parents come up to join them.
That's when you feel yourself start to believe it. That something has really gone wrong.
The Storm and I had gone out for a walk together. In absence of any further news from the pack lizard, but a lack of any official conduct from The Pale, we both agreed it would be best to stick with one other slugcat at least; and besides, we... Had some topics to discuss.
We ended up going out to the bluff, the one at the very border of our territory because there's nothing beyond it we could truly call ours. I have often sat there myself, looking out above the "nose" of it, considering the way the sky meets the shoreline further out, the way the grey dips into the green, or sometimes blends into the blue. There was never a sight quite like that in my old clowder.
If there was a shelter near it, perhaps I would have wanted to make my nest there. I don't know if clowder life truly suits me.
I'm not positive if I headed there without thought because my paws led me there on their own, or if The Storm had guided me there because she knew I liked that spot. I suppose I will now never know.
We talked - as the two mediators of the clowder, it was high time we followed our own advice, as she would have said. Our relationship has been fraught of late. Awkward, even if not hostile. Our easy conversations stilted into unfamiliarity, like we were strangers.
... It isn't important to this, what we worked out. The Storm has never been a stickler for rules, and coaxed me into seeing another side, as she was so good at. I don't know if things could have ever been the same again, but she put me in a headlock and told me it would be better, if only we willed it so.
I was willing to believe her, because her confidence infected you with that kind of feeling. She's very good at being right, if only to prove you wrong. I was feeling optimistic for the first time in a while, and she was in a good mood. I've heard happiness can infect you with its own kind of danger, too buoyed to see bad signs. Perhaps it's time I believe in that and choose prudence, instead.
There was an odd shadow in the waves below, larger than anything in the water has any right to be. We both saw it - I told her to step back, but she laughed and said the cliff was so high up, there was nothing to fear. I should have been clearer. Argued with her more. Even if it couldn't have leapt so far, the rock could have crumbled. I should have told her that.
We'd just finally had a conversation we'd needed to. I didn't want to be the spoilsport again. I wasn't ready to play that role. But if I had brought it up, maybe she would have listened.
She wouldn't have been standing right there, back turned to that monster and facing me, when it came up and closed its jaws around her.
It was so massive, I think the bite must have killed her before it even sank back into the depths. I hope it did, because then she would have been gone in a flash. One second of agony, and that's all.
His expression is completely flat as he retells all of this, even down to the last part. If you hadn't seen how upset he was before, you'd wonder if he even cared, because he sounds so detached - but then you realise that he's crying silently. The tears tracking down his cheeks stain his fur dark.
It should have been me, He says. Rather than her.
You're right, The Olive has pushed her way through the throng to confront him, her smile vicious. It's completely empty of joy; she looks as upset as he does. It's like she doesn't know how to stop smiling.
It should have been you. At least people miss The Storm.
The Bouncy's face crumples. His composure shudders apart, and he buries his face in his paws as he howls.
Olive! The Silky says, sharp. I understand you're grieving, but so is he. You know they were friends as well; if he could have saved her, he would have. He's feeling guilty enough without your intervention, and without your unjust accusations that the clowder wouldn't mourn his passing. You're being cruel.
He should have done better than that! The Olive snarls back, tail whipping back and forth. He's bone dry, he could have done more to save her!
What would you have him do? Jump off the cliff into the abyss to save her?
YES! She's showing every last one of her teeth at your mother, her thick pelt bristling. He should have died trying to save her, rather than come back to us fine!
The Olive chokes, coughs. She snarls out, I know I would have!
Then she loses her voice, too. She scrunches up her muzzle, still showing all her teeth, and lets out a soundless growl as the tears overtake her.
They had always hated each other, you think. But even then, their snippiness with each other had never gotten this bad. Right now, with The Storm gone, it's as if any chance for them to have ever softened those feelings vanished with her.
It's like a wound gone bad - with the protection gone, something else has gotten in. It's infected now. You're not sure they'll ever be able to tolerate each other's presence again.
You huddle miserably against The Broken's side, and she hugs you as she leans back on you. You never got to hear every story The Storm knew - and you know The Broken spent even more time with her than you did.
She hasn't said anything, so you chance a look at her face: she looks like how you feel, and maybe how you look too. You squeeze your arms around her a little more. Without glancing back at you, she squeezes back.
The Wild, The Pale, and The Silky exchange glances. Without a word to each other, they nod and split off - The Pale turns to put his paws on The Olive's shoulders, murmuring kindly to her as he guides her away from the scene. The Silky wraps her tail around The Bouncy's, squeezing, and says something to him in a low tone. He shakes his head, still covering his face, and she begins leading him in another direction.
The Wild, meanwhile, turns to the rest of the clowder. I don't think we're going to find The Storm, given what The Bouncy said, so I won't ask you to look for a body. In fact, it's best we avoid the cliff for now, given that there's a new and unexpected predator able to come out of the water to get us. We don't know just how far it can reach.
There might well be blood there as well, he was unclear; we'd best wait a couple of cycles for anything like it to wash out of the dirt. It may attract other beasts too.
Do any of you recall what the food The Storm liked eating most was? Yes, New Sun? You do? Alright, come tell me what it is. This might sound like an odd request to you all, but over the next few days would you be able to prioritise gathering them?
Trust me; you'll see where this is going later.
I wish I didn't have to be here for this, Your father says, solemn, sad. He's not standing on the shelter roof, this time, because this ceremony has nothing to celebrate. He's standing with the rest of you, gathered in front of a small pile of The Storm's favourite food - eggbug eggs and pieces of centipede, stacked together alone because you don't have a body to look at for this.
I didn't expect to have to use my plans for a funeral so soon. But life never decides to take you when you're ready.
He takes a deep breath, and looks up at the dark sky. It's going to rain soon, but not too soon - later, you'll all have to go inside, and the world will weep for its loss. Until it does, it's your turn to do so.
We are gathered here today to remember one of our clowder, who has since passed on. She was but a yearling, and had so much life in front of her - but that's the nature of death. I stand here today before you to honour The Storm and her memory. Let any of us who have anything they wish to say about her speak now, one at a time.
Everyone is out here that can be - even The Wild, fur torn out in clumps and a nasty lizard bite marring his leg from a patrol scuffle yesterday, has limped out of The Little's den for this. The Amber is here too, once again; just like The Wind's ceremony, she's left her egg with The Rust to be out.
The Light and The Spark cling to your mother, eyes bright with gleaming tears. You sit beside them all, not leaning on her but close enough to feel the warmth of her body. The Broken is beside you.
You expect The Bouncy or The Olive to say something first, but to your surprise it's The Old Sun that pushes herself to her feet first, tail held low against the ground.
She valued my opinion very highly, She murmurs, ears low. I am sorry, Storm. We talked, but I do not think I ever made it clear enough that I didn't think badly of you. I liked you very much, indeed. You were a clever young slugcat, and you reminded me of my own daughter. You could have become even better than you were, if you had only had the chance to grow up and be tempered.
You think back on the argument you and The Bouncy had helped them with, and lower your eyes. It had been the first time you had ever seen The Storm upset, one of the only times she had lost her cool.
As The Old Sun settles back down, you watch as your little brother wobbles to his feet instead. He's so small, he doesn't even stand out from the sitting adults - until The Silky wraps him in her arms and stands up with him, The Spark still holding on to her other paw.
I... I loved her stories, He squeaks, voice cracking. She was g-going to tell me all of them that she knew. But she didn't get to. She promised... Why did she have to go? Why'd she have to l-leave?
Your mother murmurs something to him, indistinct, and he buries his face into her chest with a hiccupping sob. She sits back down, and The Spark crawls into her lap to hide her face against her too.
The Untouched looks at his fellows uncertainly, glancing from The New Sun to The Wind - at their encouraging nods, he coughs and stands up too.
We always looked up to The Storm, He says, looking around at the rest of the slugcats. When we each joined the clowder, one after each other, she was always there to joke with us and make us feel at home. Like we had a new family, for those of us who'd lost all of ours.
She had a fiery heart, and a big one. I can only hope we'll be able to make any new slugpups feel like they belong here, as well as she did for us.
He nods at everyone, then sits back down. The Gull, you notice, is giving him a speculative look at this.
The Broken stirs, as if thinking of getting up too. When you look at her though, she's settled back on her haunches, and she shakes her head to you.
I can't think of anything I could say, She confesses to you in a whisper. You nod your understanding; you don't know, either. What could you say about The Storm that could get close to summarising her, or be able to properly farewell her?
You sneak a glance at The Bouncy, and The Olive. The Bouncy's ears are held low, and he's looking at the floor, paws on his legs. If The Storm were here, you think, she might have nudged him and whispered something to him - because you get now, that they used to be best friends, like you and The Broken.
But if The Storm were here, there wouldn't be a problem.
The Olive is looking at The Bouncy too, eyes simmering with some kind of emotion. You think she might have been waiting for him to move, because they were both the closest to The Storm... But when he doesn't, she spits at the ground and stands up.
The Storm was one of my best friends, The Olive says, harsh and cold. I'm not lying when I say I think I learnt more from her than I even did from The Wild, all respect to my ex-mentor. She's who I followed around as a pup, and who I talked with 'til other slugpups came along that were looking up to ME.
This place just won't be the same without her. Void knows we're down our best mediator.
The Bouncy neither looks up nor bristles, and makes no attempt to contest this. It's as if he didn't hear her at all.
Let's hope this clowder can keep the peace without her, She finishes, and throws herself back down with a thump.
There's another pause, while you - and others, you realise - glance at The Bouncy to see if he's going to get up and say something as well, but he's still not moving. Eventually, the silence drags on too long, so your father steps in to continue the ceremony, facing the mound of food.
The Pale bows his head low, back bending as if the weight of it is too heavy for him to keep out of the dirt. I thank you for your strong will and all it did for us, Storm. I hope the sky grants you peace.
The Wild is solemn and dull-faced as he limps up to the pile of food and picks some up, one in each paw. Those closest to her, please come up first. We'll stand in a line, and I'll pass this food out.
The Olive stands up, and looks at The Bouncy. She looks like she wants to kick him, and even shifts weight on her leg like she's about to - but then she doesn't, turning her back on him and going to the front of the line.
She takes two pieces, an egg and a centipede slice, and drops the latter almost carelessly in his lap as she passes him. He startles, paws lifting up to catch it, and finally looks up to stare after her as she walks to a far corner of the camp.
You stand up with your mother, still holding your siblings, and pull Broken up with you by the paw. Together, the group of you step into line with everyone else, filing in based on where you'd been sitting before.
I still can't believe it, The Broken murmurs, as you're waiting. That we'll never see her again...
Me neither, You say, shaky. I k-keep thinking I'll see her in the shelter later, laughing and telling everyone another story...
But you'll never have that again.
Her nest is going to stay empty, until her scent fades out of it.
The Bouncy and The Olive, despite their moment at the funeral, still can't seem to stand to look at each other, let alone have a conversation, so your father chose to divide The Storm's belongings between them himself - her shed fur and the plant matter she'd slept on, the feathers and strands, separated so the two of them could tuck it into their own nests.
It turned out she also had what you thought of as a pretty rock tucked away in her nest, and The Pale decided to give that to The Broken rather than risk the other two coming to teeth-bared blows over the single object.
She's been talking to you about the idea of wearing it somehow, like how you wear your berries behind your ear. It must have been important to The Storm after all, if she had kept it in her nest.
That's why it almost feels wrong, when you walk into the nursery and realise that The Amber and The Rust's eggs have hatched. Like something so worth celebrating should be happening, in the face of such a painful loss.
But you guess your father had already said it best; life didn't wait for you to be ready. The pups had needed to hatch, so now they had.
Your ears lower; they're cute, but you just can't feel excitement about them. You feel like you should, like you should be jumping for joy the way you were when your little siblings hatched, but you just don't.
It feels unfair, like you think your siblings are more important than these other slugpups, even though you're all part of the same clowder. Or as if you're blaming them for being born at this time, even though of course that's not it. It just...
It just feels like The Storm should have been there, to gawk at the newborns and their little paws, and little ears, and little nose, just like the rest of you will. And she can't.
You mutter your congratulations to the two of them, and they nod, just as muted. The Rust, to your surprise, gives you a sympathetic look.
First loss, eh? He says to you, voice soft so as not to wake the pup sleeping at his stomach. It won't get any easier. Ach, don't look at me like that - you want me to lie to you? I'm not going to say it gets easier to lose people. But the pain will lessen, as other things grow over the hole.
She was a bright youngling, The Amber agrees, melancholy. I was never so close to her, but I would have never wanted such a fate for her. Yet, that's the nature of it: we're both predator and prey. Sometimes to the same creature.
Sometimes to one of our own, The Rust nods gruffly. Oh yes, slugcats will kill each other too. Didn't you see The Whistler, and that Shining? You think that's a newfangled thing? Slugcats have been killing each other since the beginning of time, when the first one found a hard object to hit another with.
He's a cynical piece of work, isn't he? The Amber says to you, dry. You'll want to take what he's saying with a grain of sand.
Hmph, He huffs, wrapping his tail around his pup. Don't believe me? Just ask your mentor-to-be. I'm sure he has plenty to say on the subject.
You're mostly just surprised that he's paid enough attention to you that he knows this at all about you. You didn't think he would have, since The Rust is usually always sitting somewhere alone or with The Old Sun, looking cranky. But you guess, if it's like the life of a pup, there's not too much else to do other than people-watch.
Your Singer's certainly going to grow up interesting, aren't they, She says to him, with a scoff of a laugh. First you name them for their newborn sounds, when we don't even know if they'll be a proper singer, and now this?
Like you're better, He says scornfully, though there's a gleam in his eye. Are they... Having fun? Naming your little one after the moon? Bah, we haven't even seen the moon in years. Certainly not since I came here. Will it even know what it's been titled for?
The gleam of a light in darkness, like an eye. The Amber tilts her chin up in challenge. Their markings faintly glow, they'll figure it out. It's a healthy ego, to match your child to a celestial. Better to launch high than low.
Some would disagree, The Rust flicks his ears. Not me, but some. I could say the same for my title of Singer. Call it aspirant. At least they can learn to sing. How will your pup reach the sky, eh?
I trust they'll figure out a way to it, in one definition or another, She retorts, with a sniff. She bends her head and licks over her pup's ears, who mewls softly.
Now that you're looking closely, you realise that the spots on The Moon's back - markings that are weirdly visible even before their fur has actually grown in yet, since they're so newly out of the egg - really do give off a tiny amount of light; nothing like a lantern, but almost like a lantern in a pouch. You're a little fascinated, because you had no idea some slugcat markings could do this.
You wonder if any of the other pelts have anything like this? You think that you should ask your mother, since she's a queen. She's seen so many different babies, you bet she would know.
Between each other, you, and these newborns, The Light and The Spark are going to be spoiled for choice in playmates. You're glad for that - you are having fun with them and The Broken, but you'll be starting your apprenticeship soon. When The Broken had done that, and the twins were still too young to play, the time in between sure had been boring.
They're really cute, You tell them both, with a slow wag of your tail. I'm happy my little siblings are gonna get more pups to play with.
They don't smile at you, because it's not in either of their natures, but their nods this time have a lighter emotion to them.
The Bouncy is sitting by himself, tail wrapped around his body as if cold.
The Olive is slouching around camp again, disinterested in going out.
The Rust makes eye contact with you and grunts, flicking his tail at you in a summons.
The Whistler looks bored, restlessly shifting up and out of their nest and pacing around camp.
You realise The Spark is scratching deep furrows into the dirt. That can't be comfortable for her paws.
It is now time to decide what kind of apprentice you want to be.
As The Silky and The Pale have explained to you, while each apprentice will be focusing on a different education overall, the basics of survival will nevertheless be taught to you regardless. First aid will be taught to non-healers, and combat + evasion manoeuvres will still be taught to non-warriors.
They have already given a basic run-down of what each position does, and noted that you can change your path if desired, whenever you wish. This is not locked in, but it will of course take more time for you to complete training if you switch part-way.
These are the options of apprentice you may pick from:
- Normal / General
- Queen
- Healer
- Mediator
This will require a majority vote to decide. Voting will stay open until we complete the events of this month and enter month 6.