Every warriors universe has their own beliefs and ways. And yet Hemlockshade is forced to live in one where he isn't accepted.
The young feline has been running from his problems since he was a kit. Escaping the ones who had tried to kill him, he...
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chapter seven
༉‧₊˚✧ . ˚.
Hemlockshade's heart skipped violently against his ribs. He knew. The realization struck him so hard it felt as though claws had raked down his spine. Did they all know? Had they always known? His gaze flickered wildly from feline to feline, searching desperately for even the smallest hint of mercy, but every pair of eyes felt sharpened against him like unsheathed claws.
The den suddenly seemed too small, too hot, too suffocating. The scent of herbs curling through the air made his stomach twist. And Thunderstar. Thunderstar's burning amber gaze rested on him like a hawk eyeing wounded prey. Hemlockshade couldn't breathe. He opened his mouth, but no words came. What could he even say? Every excuse he had ever clung to withered beneath that stare. Deep down, some ugly part of him had always known this moment would come. He had only hoped it never would.
A flash of silver suddenly crossed his vision. Sorrelwhisker stepped in front of him before he even realized she had moved, her pelt bristling as she planted herself between Hemlockshade and Thunderstar like a shield. "He can't leave," she protested, her voice low but firm. "Our ancestors—"
"He is not welcome here!" Thunderstar's snarl exploded through the den like thunder cracking across stone. Hemlockshade flinched so hard his claws scraped against the ground beneath him. Silence followed the outburst, heavy and horrible. Not welcome. The words struck deeper than claws ever could. He had always known, somewhere deep beneath all the pretending and forced smiles and carefully lowered gaze, that the village had never truly accepted him. Not really. They tolerated him. Endured him. But hearing it spoken aloud made something inside him splinter.
His gaze slowly dropped to the floor beneath him. He stared at the packed earth beneath his paws as his vision blurred. Heat stung behind his eyes, and he fought desperately to keep the tears from falling. If he cried now, Thunderstar would see weakness. He couldn't let him see weakness.
"He needs to stay," Sorrelwhisker growled.
Hemlockshade glanced up slightly. The silver she-cat's eyes blazed as they locked onto Thunderstar's. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw uncertainty flicker across the guardian's face. Then it vanished. Thunderstar straightened to his full height, long fur bristling around his shoulders like a storm cloud. His expression hardened into something cold enough to freeze the air itself. "You have three days to prepare," he growled. The words landed like a death sentence. Without another glance toward them, Thunderstar turned and stalked from the den, his tail lashing sharply behind him. The hanging lichen swayed after his departure before slowly settling back into place.
