This Is What We Know ✔️

i. wild eyes

warning:
mild gore warning

chapter one;
wild eyes

p l o v e r p a w

If there was one thing Ploverpaw was still getting used to around camp, it was the smells coming from the medicine cat's den; smells of which scorched their senses in the most profound and violating ways. Kavaleaf, with eyes as brown as the withering plants placed around her den, was a gentle molly with a tired composure and a minty smell to her pelt. She was the first one to share tongues with the apprentice on their first journey into camp, and still one of the most welcoming.

Ploverpaw found themself fascinated with the way she giggled when the feline decided to put a stray flower they found on patrol behind her ear, and Larkpaw once described it as attraction. The idea of being attracted to the molly of sunshine and mint was puzzling to them, having fallen in love before with a tom of smoky scents and deep eyes that drowned them before he went away.

They had only known Heronpaw for a moment before his disappearance, but a moment was enough for them.

"Kavaleaf, have you seen the litter?" Ploverpaw inquired, tasting bitterness on their tongue where the word 'litter' slithered out. An affectionate term for a group with a missing member. "I haven't seen them all evening and I'm getting- Kavaleaf there is pollen all over your pelt." And then, as though to make some sort of point, they sneezed.

Kavaleaf blinked before bending her head around at an angle and licking the powdery dew off her russet red fur. "Larkpaw and Grousepaw went out to the river, I was surprised you didn't join them."

"They didn't tell me they were going," Ploverpaw responded, taking the opportunity to turn on their paws and leave the den, desperate not to fall victim to another incomplete love story of any kind.

Kavaleaf's voice followed them out. "Well you know what today is, after all-"

Ploverpaw knew, and they nearly picked out their own fur in a stress response to waking up alone, having known where they must have gone. They werent unused to being left behind and having to constantly play catch up, but they never angered over it either. They knew what they were getting into when they first joined in the small group, and they'd deal with the results.

The two sisters were always going to prefer being with each other than with a stranger.

Still, Ploverpaw wandered the dense forest outside AlpineClan's camp, opening their jaw to taste the scents as they flowed freely through their muzzle. Rabbits, mice, even the stale, passing scent of a wolverine appeared. A mountain lion has marked its territory above the ridge as well- something Yarrowstar would entertain as worthwhile.

Then, scents got muddled. They could pick out Larkpaw and Grousepaw, two cats drenched in the thick, pungent odor of fear. Then, Heronpaw... Heronpaw's.

But why did fear surround their scents if they were with him? If they found him, wouldn't they smell... at ease?

The realization kicked in that something must be wrong when one final breeze delivered blood, coppery and warm, into their senses. Sabledusk.

Ploverpaw's desperation clicked in and they took off towards their direction, longing to secure the litter's safety. The sight they were greeted with was frightening and sent a chill down their spine.

Sabedusk was dead.

Blood oozed from empty eye sockets, and the body's entrails slithered against the forest floor like snakes gone still before a strike. Ploverpaw spotted claws scattered around the setting, and one glance at Sabledusk's body confirmed his paw pads were bloody and unrecognizable. Larkpaw and Grousepaw were present, both bloodied but not hurt. Larkpaw had wild, fearful eyes, and were the first to catch Ploverpaw's in shock.

"Heronpaw," Larkpaw said softly, causing the feline's eyes to flit to the left of the body and the mollies to where the tom stood. He was decorated with scrapes and cuts, and his front left leg was lifted in an attempt, most likely, to keep pain from searing through it. "Heronpaw killed Sabledusk."

They didn't know how to respond, and instead surveyed the river for a point of entry, finding a stable escape into it. "What now?" They asked, avoiding looking at Heronpaw directly.

Grousepaw gazed at the river before grabbing Sabledusk by the scruff and dragging him into the water with no notice to the rest. She let go. All four cats watched his body float away in silence.

Cruel, booming silence.

It was Heronpaw who spoke, voice low and almost... sad.

"No one can know."

And yet Ploverpaw felt the eyes of someone else, watching from afar, with little intention of letting the tom's wish come true.