Ughhhhh this one was a pain. I don't even like the outcome. It wasn't even worth it. I like the story more than the art, and I'm a sucky author, so I guess that says something about my art skills.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
You're supposed to be looking up at the cat, which is why the shoulder and forepaw are much bigger in proportion to the head than they'd normally be, but it didn't work and just looks terrible. Funnily enough, I don't even care.
Okay so a few of you expressed interest in the story, so I guess I'll reformat it for you.. Be warned: I never said it was any good.
* * *
For the longest time, SHE was all she was.
There were no others, despite her Clanmates, despite all of the cats who surrounded her every day, she was alone. She was addressed only in whispers and never to her face—rumors and gossip that cut off abruptly whenever she wandered within earshot. As distant as they perceived her to be, she was not so far away as to not understand what was happening, and so far as to not be hurt by it. The whispers in her head provided ample distraction at times, but when SHE was silent, there was nothing for her to find refuge in. During those times, she wandered the forest, in search of peace that never seemed to make itself known to her. She longed for silence, but the solitude was as much a curse as it was a blessing.
She was the only cat in her Clan who knew the territory so very precisely that she could recreate it in her mind without fault. She noticed every new sapling in the cool days of new-leaf, every overturned stone in the training hollow where apprentices had kicked them over in search of beetles or anything more entertaining than their mentors' lectures. Every leaf's change of color in leaf-fall, every pawprint, every scent of every creature—nothing went unnoticed. The hours she had spent wandering, searching for peace, for escape, had trained her well. But she was so terribly bored of seeing all of the same sights. She had no desire to leave her Clan—SHE had convinced her that leaving was not an option. But she grew weary of her territory when there was no one but Her to share it with, and often found herself on the outskirts of the land, along the borders with the neighboring Clans, aching for something new.
It was on such a day that he made an appearance.
She knew he would be there, of course. She had seen it—SHE had shown her. But there was something very different about seeing a cat in her head and seeing a cat with her eyes. There was no speaking to a vision—she could shout as loudly as her lungs would let her, but it would make no difference. He would remain silent, and her voice would grow hoarse and tired. But it was not like that this time. This time, he called out to her first.
It was the first time anyone had addressed her directly in so very long, and that alone was enough to make her legs want to fall out from underneath her.
He was a stranger. They were not friends; they hadn't even seen each other before, not in person. But he called out a friendly greeting to her nonetheless, and she, despite HER tugging at her paws, attempting to dissuade the idea with what little power SHE had at that point, had returned it. He introduced himself as Brackentuft. She introduced herself as Echobreeze. They spoke briefly about trivial things, prey and kits and weather. It was a short conversation, but it was sweet, and it was casual, normal, in the best of ways, and it was only the first of many.
The best of times, those where.
It took little more than a few moons for them to grow close. He, somehow, despite everything, didn't mind her nervous twitching, occasional random outbursts, or increasingly more sporadic behavior. She knew that it was the result of HER growing stronger, but she thought less of it than perhaps she should have—if Brackentuft was not worried, why should she be? The meetings continued, and they grew closer still, in spite of HER constant protest.
It was not until the topic of family had come up that SHE had intervened substantially. Echobreeze had little to say on the subject—her kin had shunned her just as her Clan had. But Brackentuft listened to what few words she had to say, just as he always did. With a burst of affection for this cat who had become her only true companion, staying by her side willingly, by his own choice, much unlike SHE had, before she turned the conversation over to him. His father was dead, he told her. He hadn't known him too terribly well, but he briefly described what he did know. She listened just as he had.
As far as their meetings went, it had started out as a fine one. They were completely alone—there were no signs of any other cats appearing to interrupt. The weather was beautiful. Both were secure and happy in the company of the other. The conversation seemed to be as perfectly ordinary as any of the others they'd had. SHE was relatively quiet that evening, even. Nothing was supposed to go wrong. Nothing was going wrong.
Not until his name, that one particular name, slipped off of Brackentuft's tounge.
"Smoketuft."
SHE, who had been docile before, lit Echobreeze's bones aflame with rage. It was instantaneous and immediate. She felt her legs begin to buckle beneath her with the force of it, the sheer power behind HER actions and emotions that had never been present there before. Her vision swam, nausea sending the ground spinning beneath her feet. Her muscles seized up, the constricting sensation starting in her toes and crawling gradually up her body.
"B-Brackentuft... Run."
She expected her last effort to protect him to end in blackness as the agony of HER power overtook her, but it did not. She remained conscious, her brain muddied and fuzzy, but still at least partially her own.
He did not run.
He stood there, his eyes wide with shock as Echobreeze's body convulsed violently before him. He stood there while SHE took over her body, advancing maliciously toward him even as her eyes spilled over with tears of what she knew was coming. He stood when the first blow hit. He stood as her claws tore into him. He stood as her heart broke.
He just stood.
* * *
Yup. Mediocre at best, but the subject matter was hard to work with and was also explained very vaguely, so I had to work around the big plot holes in the basic explanation that was given to me. Feedback is appreciated so long as it's constructive, and so long as it's not relating to the subject matter/basic plot because, like I said, those weren't my doing, they were given to me.
