Post by Darkie on May 31, 2009 17:44:00 GMT -5
The Tragedy of Timberstar
((The Ceremony words were taken from Erin Hunter's Warriors series.))
I. The Murder
Timberstar couldn’t believe it. He had seen it happen, yes, seen the storm-gray cat with eyes that pierced him to the bone approach. He’d heard him talk to Meadowstar, remembered feeling anxious, his head buzzing with worry and unanswered questions. Was Meadowstar okay? Had she been hurt? What about his Clan? Was every cat accounted for? How would MeadowClan survive without their territory? Were these new cats dangerous? Where had they come from? Were they going to steal the Clan’s territory? Had the explosion scared all the prey away? Was the ash which had fallen from the sky still dangerous? Would the mountain erupt again? He remembered all of these things perfectly, even the smell of burnt fur and the taste of animals burnt to a crisp by the fury of the mountain, how sticky and hot the ground felt, from the ash. He remembered everything about it because what happened next was so terrible and unthinkable that it was seared into his brain for eternity.
The cat killed her. Timberstar watched, frozen in horror, as the cat with the terrible eyes murdered her, and the two white cats held her like prey. He could do nothing as his beloved was destroyed without a thought, as her precious blood gushed onto the ground. The gray cat- what was his name? Eternalfire, did he say?- almost seemed to be enjoying it. Then they left. They walked off toward the mountain which had rained fire. Some of the cats at the end of the line- the least fierce, Timberstar thought, looked back at the crumpled body, almost as if they cared. Almost. As they faded to specks, traveling in the direction of the mountain, Timberstar stumbled up to Meadowstar and buried his head blindly in her fur. He could not think, he could not breathe. There was nothing left for him. Nothing left in the whole world.
II. The Plan
He sat there until it got dark. And then he suddenly looked up. There was something. StarClan HAD left him something, after all. His Clan. And they needed him; they would be worried for him. He had not told them where he was going, after all. He had been sneaking out to see Meadowstar, after discovering that her territory had been destroyed. He sat up quite suddenly, for he had sunk to the ground during his vigil. His thoughts had become calm and methodical. His insides were filled with ice. He cleaned himself thoroughly, and splashed through a stream as he ran back to camp. He had to protect their secret, to preserve the memory of Meadowstar.
He came into camp, and his loyal deputy, Swiftclaw, bounded up to him, her relief obvious in her tone as she meowed to Timberstar,
“Timberstar! Thank StarClan, we were beginning to think something had happened to you! We have managed to catch some prey, but most of it was killed by the ash and the fire. Fadedpelt saved Sandkit and Honeykit, but the other kits were killed. We know what happened to everyone else except for Shiningpaw. We couldn’t find her anywhere.” Timberstar received the news with an almost eerie calm. He nodded.
“Have you sent out search parties?” he asked.
“Yes,” came the reply, “but we couldn’t find any trace of her. The ash destroyed her scent.” Timberstar nodded again.
“How many were killed?” He asked.
“Five.” Swiftclaw answered grimly, “Fogwhisker, Larkcloud, Dusksky, Dovekit, and Swankit.”
“Have the injured cats been taken care of?” Timberstar pushed on numbly.
“All but yourself. Fadedpelt is demanding you come to her.” Timberstar nodded a third time and wandered off in the direction of the medicine cat’s den. Fadedpelt ran over to him at once and began tending his wounds while muttering about how mouse-brained Timberstar had been not to come and see her. Timberstar didn’t say anything. After a few minutes had passed without him saying a word, Fadedpelt asked,
“Are you alright?”
“What?” Timberstar meowed “Oh- yes, I’m perfectly fine, just tired. I suppose I’ll go get some rest now. Thank you, Fadedpelt.” He walked to his den and sat in his nest. He had no intention of sleeping. He had an attack to plan. He was going to destroy those newcomers, rip them limb from limb. They would pay for killing Meadowstar. And he, Timberstar, would be the one to rip Eternalfire’s throat out, to have the satisfaction of seeing his blood stain the ground, just as Meadowstar’s had. They would pay. They would all pay.
III. The Meeting
The next morning Timberstar calmly walked out of his den, jumped onto the Stone of Time and called
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Stone of Time for a Clan meeting!” He watched silently as the cats filed out from their dens. They looked tired, confused, and miserable. Hardly a fighting force. “Cats of TimberClan,” he began, “New cats have come to our homeland. I saw them yesterday when I was gone for a period of time. They walked toward the volcano. They are vicious monsters, come to kill us.” There was alarmed muttering. A tom named Deerfur called,
“How do you know this?” from down below.
“I know this because I saw them murder Meadowstar.” He replied, his voice betraying no trace of the anguish he felt at what he had just said. “They killed her in cold blood,’ he continued, over fresh murmurs, “They were outside the Warrior Code. These cats know no law they are worse than anything we have ever faced. But face them we must. We must kill them. We cannot have these cats living here, they will destroy us.” There were loud yowls then, alarmed and terrified. This time, it was Swiftclaw who spoke.
“Timberstar, would we not be outside the Warrior Code ourselves if we killed them all?” she asked.
“The Warrior Code says that we may kill if the opposing cat is outside the Warrior Code. These cats are most certainly outside the Warrior Code.” Swiftclaw nodded, seemingly satisfied.
“But,” she meowed thoughtfully, “What about the kits?” The clearing fell silent. The kits were innocent, Timberstar knew. He could not kill them. But maybe…
“We will take the kits.” He announced.
“Steal kits?” came the shrill cry from the queen Morningbrook.
“No.” Timberstar meowed, over the yowls of dissent. “No, we are not taking them, we are saving them. Saving them from being brought up in lawless Clans, without the guidance of the Warrior Code.” The clearing was silent as the cats contemplated this. There seemed to be a general sense of agreement. “Before we disperse,” Timberstar meowed, "we need to assemble a party to go and find the MeadowClan survivors. Swiftclaw, you will lead the venture, take Deerfur, Mouse-”
“I must refuse, Timberstar.” Swiftclaw interrupted. The clearing was silent. Swiftclaw had never refused Timberstar.
“Why?” Timberstar enquired; tail flicking back and forth in annoyance.
“Because trespassing on another Clan’s territory is most certainly breaking the Warrior Code. And if we are to start a war based on the fact that a new set of Clans has come that does not believe in the Warrior Code, then it must be foremost in all of our thoughts from this day forward.” The muttering started again. Swiftclaw was right. Timberstar reluctantly withdrew his proposal and ended the meeting.
IV. The Refugees
As the cats dispersed, five cats, smelling of MeadowClan, and nearly dead on their feet, staggered into camp. Fadedpelt and Timberstar rushed up to them. When Fadedpelt had finished tending what appeared to be the leader of the group, Timberstar walked up to him.
“Greetings. What are you doing on TimberClan territory?” He asked formally.
“Greetings, Timberstar. I am Thorntooth. We have come to seek shelter in your Clan. We have nowhere else to go.”
“Does MeadowClan no longer exist?” Timberstar asked. He dreaded the answer. The only thing left of his mate was her Clan.
“Yes.” Thorntooth replied sadly, “The apprentice Spottedpaw has been its doom. He has joined with Nightdeath, a cat from one of those terrible new Clans, to form a parody of a Clan. He has ordered us out of the territory. He says it belongs to SootClan now.” He spat the word SootClan with contempt.
Timberstar decided he enjoyed this cat. They were very like-minded. “If you would like,” Timberstar meowed, “you and your clanmates may join TimberClan. We would be happy to have you.”
“Thank you for the offer, we accept,” meowed Thorntooth.
V. The Dissenter
It turned out that the former MeadowClan cats were all too willing to help with Timberstar’s plan. The only cat who never seemed to be fully enthusiastic about the entire affair was Swiftclaw. She continuously urged Timberstar to end the war. Timberstar ignored her; he found it annoying.
VI. The Messenger
Timberstar and the cats of TimberClan fought the war for many moons. As cats died on the battlefield, personal grudges developed against the Fiery Clans, as they came to be called. The TimberClan cats switched camps, and had to leave the Stone of Time in favor of the Stone of Generations, at the new camp. Through it all, Timberstar’s loyal deputy stayed by his side. Miraculously, she was never killed, nor showed any wish to become an elder, even as she began to age. She continued to beseech Timberstar about ending the war; however, she never wavered in her devotion to him or to what he commanded her to do. She raised kits that were taken from the Fiery Clans for him; she was the perfect deputy.
One day, while they were battling SootClan in an attack that Timberstar had started, she was mortally wounded. Timberstar stopped fighting and went to her when she asked for him. By this time, Timberstar cared about nothing but the war. He was impatient; he had no time for the dead or dying, only for the living.
“What?” He snapped irritably as he came to where Swiftclaw lay. Swiftclaw looked at Fadedpelt, urging her to leave with her eyes. She understood and walked off slowly. Fadedpelt was old; she would soon join StarClan.
“Timberstar,” Swiftclaw meowed softly, “there are things I must tell you. I am dying, and you must know these things. First, I know that Meadowstar was your mate.” Timberstar froze.
“How did you find out?” he meowed, astonished.
“It doesn’t matter.” She replied, “I have much to say, and very little time in which to say it. Secondly, though this probably does not matter so much to you, I love you; I have loved you and will always love you, even though you do not love me.”
This barely provoked a twitch of the whiskers from Timberstar.
“Next, I must ask you, once again, to end this terrible war.” She plowed on, speaking quickly, “Fourth, I have a message for you from Meadowstar. She came to me in a dream, and told me to tell you that she wanted you back. That you were no longer the cat she fell in love with, that you were becoming more like him. She said she wanted her sweet Timberstar back.”
Timberstar was stunned. Meadowstar thought he was becoming like that monster? Like that vile, evil creature? Swiftclaw must have been mistaken; she was getting old, after all.
“Finally,” Swiftclaw meowed, her voice barely audible, “You must know that Meadowstar bore your kits. She gave them to me to find a suitable queen for them in TimberClan, as she could not care for them. She said you would feel awful if you knew of them, which is why she gave them away. Their names are…”
“What?! What are their names?” Timberstar asked urgently. But Swiftclaw did not answer; she was dead.
Timberstar staggered back, and sat, in a stupor. He had kits. His family was in his Clan somewhere. And he didn’t know who they were.
VII. The Replacement
At moonhigh the night after the battle, Timberstar emerged from his den and mounted the Stone of Generations.
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Stone of Generations for a Clan meeting!” he called. The cats padded out one by one. They were tired and sore; many had looks of despair on their faces. They had lost the battle that day, and many of their clanmates as well. There was nothing to be happy about. Many of the cats had already been in the clearing, holding vigil for Swiftclaw, or one of the other four cats who had died. All of the cats knew why Timberstar had called the meeting, and it was no surprise which cat would be chosen as Timberstar’s new deputy.
“I say these words before the body of Swiftclaw,” he began, “so that her spirit may hear and approve my choice. Thorntooth will be the new deputy of TimberClan.” There was some purring and congratulations, but no cat was really in the mood for celebration.
“I am honored.” Thorntooth meowed, “I never expected to receive this post. Thank you, I will do my best to serve TimberClan.” That night, though few cats noticed, as most were exhausted, a lone cloud made its way over the surface of the moon. Timberstar fell asleep that night with a feeling of hope in his chest. With Thorntooth in charge, the war would continue.
VIII. The Last Breath
The war continued through the rest of Timberstar’s nine lives. He met his match in a case of greencough. The new medicine cat, Poppysky, was with him in his den on the last day. At sunhigh, Timberstar opened his fever-bright eyes and spoke to her, his voice hoarse.
“I see the forest.” He croaked, “I see the dead forest where I must wander for a long time. A very long time, Fadedpelt. Wait. Wait, she has saved me. I see her, Fadedpelt, I see her; she wants me to come with her. But what? I thought you wanted… Of course, I will tell Thorntooth. I will tell Thorntooth that peace must come. Get Thorntooth.” He ordered.
Poppysky poked her head outside of the den, but Timberstar called her back.
“Not yet. You have to know. Someone must know. I loved her. I loved Meadowstar.” Poppysky was taken aback; she had never heard anything about this. “You are not to tell anyone. Except for your apprentice. Yes, Silverpaw should know. Tell her to tell her apprentice, to keep the knowledge alive. But no one else.”
She nodded, still speechless. “Now, get Thorntooth.” He repeated.
She ran outside the den and told the waiting deputy that Timberstar wanted to see him. He bounded in.
“Thorntooth,” Timberstar meowed, each breath costing him dearly, “I need you…I need you to…”
“No need to say it Timberstar,” Thorntooth meowed, as Timberstar died; it was sunset. “I know what you want. Of course I’ll rip his throat out for you.”
IX. The Legacy
And so Timberstar’s legacy was one of violence. Poppysky told Thornstar repeatedly that fighting was not what Timberstar had wanted when he’d died, that he’d said he’d wanted peace; that the fighting must end. But no one ever listened to her. It did not fit with the image of Timberstar the cats knew, and so they did not accept it. Timberstar’s private battle to avenge his secret mate still rages, and he, up in StarClan, wishes he had had just one more breath, one more second to tell Thorntooth to stop the violence.
((The Ceremony words were taken from Erin Hunter's Warriors series.))
I. The Murder
Timberstar couldn’t believe it. He had seen it happen, yes, seen the storm-gray cat with eyes that pierced him to the bone approach. He’d heard him talk to Meadowstar, remembered feeling anxious, his head buzzing with worry and unanswered questions. Was Meadowstar okay? Had she been hurt? What about his Clan? Was every cat accounted for? How would MeadowClan survive without their territory? Were these new cats dangerous? Where had they come from? Were they going to steal the Clan’s territory? Had the explosion scared all the prey away? Was the ash which had fallen from the sky still dangerous? Would the mountain erupt again? He remembered all of these things perfectly, even the smell of burnt fur and the taste of animals burnt to a crisp by the fury of the mountain, how sticky and hot the ground felt, from the ash. He remembered everything about it because what happened next was so terrible and unthinkable that it was seared into his brain for eternity.
The cat killed her. Timberstar watched, frozen in horror, as the cat with the terrible eyes murdered her, and the two white cats held her like prey. He could do nothing as his beloved was destroyed without a thought, as her precious blood gushed onto the ground. The gray cat- what was his name? Eternalfire, did he say?- almost seemed to be enjoying it. Then they left. They walked off toward the mountain which had rained fire. Some of the cats at the end of the line- the least fierce, Timberstar thought, looked back at the crumpled body, almost as if they cared. Almost. As they faded to specks, traveling in the direction of the mountain, Timberstar stumbled up to Meadowstar and buried his head blindly in her fur. He could not think, he could not breathe. There was nothing left for him. Nothing left in the whole world.
II. The Plan
He sat there until it got dark. And then he suddenly looked up. There was something. StarClan HAD left him something, after all. His Clan. And they needed him; they would be worried for him. He had not told them where he was going, after all. He had been sneaking out to see Meadowstar, after discovering that her territory had been destroyed. He sat up quite suddenly, for he had sunk to the ground during his vigil. His thoughts had become calm and methodical. His insides were filled with ice. He cleaned himself thoroughly, and splashed through a stream as he ran back to camp. He had to protect their secret, to preserve the memory of Meadowstar.
He came into camp, and his loyal deputy, Swiftclaw, bounded up to him, her relief obvious in her tone as she meowed to Timberstar,
“Timberstar! Thank StarClan, we were beginning to think something had happened to you! We have managed to catch some prey, but most of it was killed by the ash and the fire. Fadedpelt saved Sandkit and Honeykit, but the other kits were killed. We know what happened to everyone else except for Shiningpaw. We couldn’t find her anywhere.” Timberstar received the news with an almost eerie calm. He nodded.
“Have you sent out search parties?” he asked.
“Yes,” came the reply, “but we couldn’t find any trace of her. The ash destroyed her scent.” Timberstar nodded again.
“How many were killed?” He asked.
“Five.” Swiftclaw answered grimly, “Fogwhisker, Larkcloud, Dusksky, Dovekit, and Swankit.”
“Have the injured cats been taken care of?” Timberstar pushed on numbly.
“All but yourself. Fadedpelt is demanding you come to her.” Timberstar nodded a third time and wandered off in the direction of the medicine cat’s den. Fadedpelt ran over to him at once and began tending his wounds while muttering about how mouse-brained Timberstar had been not to come and see her. Timberstar didn’t say anything. After a few minutes had passed without him saying a word, Fadedpelt asked,
“Are you alright?”
“What?” Timberstar meowed “Oh- yes, I’m perfectly fine, just tired. I suppose I’ll go get some rest now. Thank you, Fadedpelt.” He walked to his den and sat in his nest. He had no intention of sleeping. He had an attack to plan. He was going to destroy those newcomers, rip them limb from limb. They would pay for killing Meadowstar. And he, Timberstar, would be the one to rip Eternalfire’s throat out, to have the satisfaction of seeing his blood stain the ground, just as Meadowstar’s had. They would pay. They would all pay.
III. The Meeting
The next morning Timberstar calmly walked out of his den, jumped onto the Stone of Time and called
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Stone of Time for a Clan meeting!” He watched silently as the cats filed out from their dens. They looked tired, confused, and miserable. Hardly a fighting force. “Cats of TimberClan,” he began, “New cats have come to our homeland. I saw them yesterday when I was gone for a period of time. They walked toward the volcano. They are vicious monsters, come to kill us.” There was alarmed muttering. A tom named Deerfur called,
“How do you know this?” from down below.
“I know this because I saw them murder Meadowstar.” He replied, his voice betraying no trace of the anguish he felt at what he had just said. “They killed her in cold blood,’ he continued, over fresh murmurs, “They were outside the Warrior Code. These cats know no law they are worse than anything we have ever faced. But face them we must. We must kill them. We cannot have these cats living here, they will destroy us.” There were loud yowls then, alarmed and terrified. This time, it was Swiftclaw who spoke.
“Timberstar, would we not be outside the Warrior Code ourselves if we killed them all?” she asked.
“The Warrior Code says that we may kill if the opposing cat is outside the Warrior Code. These cats are most certainly outside the Warrior Code.” Swiftclaw nodded, seemingly satisfied.
“But,” she meowed thoughtfully, “What about the kits?” The clearing fell silent. The kits were innocent, Timberstar knew. He could not kill them. But maybe…
“We will take the kits.” He announced.
“Steal kits?” came the shrill cry from the queen Morningbrook.
“No.” Timberstar meowed, over the yowls of dissent. “No, we are not taking them, we are saving them. Saving them from being brought up in lawless Clans, without the guidance of the Warrior Code.” The clearing was silent as the cats contemplated this. There seemed to be a general sense of agreement. “Before we disperse,” Timberstar meowed, "we need to assemble a party to go and find the MeadowClan survivors. Swiftclaw, you will lead the venture, take Deerfur, Mouse-”
“I must refuse, Timberstar.” Swiftclaw interrupted. The clearing was silent. Swiftclaw had never refused Timberstar.
“Why?” Timberstar enquired; tail flicking back and forth in annoyance.
“Because trespassing on another Clan’s territory is most certainly breaking the Warrior Code. And if we are to start a war based on the fact that a new set of Clans has come that does not believe in the Warrior Code, then it must be foremost in all of our thoughts from this day forward.” The muttering started again. Swiftclaw was right. Timberstar reluctantly withdrew his proposal and ended the meeting.
IV. The Refugees
As the cats dispersed, five cats, smelling of MeadowClan, and nearly dead on their feet, staggered into camp. Fadedpelt and Timberstar rushed up to them. When Fadedpelt had finished tending what appeared to be the leader of the group, Timberstar walked up to him.
“Greetings. What are you doing on TimberClan territory?” He asked formally.
“Greetings, Timberstar. I am Thorntooth. We have come to seek shelter in your Clan. We have nowhere else to go.”
“Does MeadowClan no longer exist?” Timberstar asked. He dreaded the answer. The only thing left of his mate was her Clan.
“Yes.” Thorntooth replied sadly, “The apprentice Spottedpaw has been its doom. He has joined with Nightdeath, a cat from one of those terrible new Clans, to form a parody of a Clan. He has ordered us out of the territory. He says it belongs to SootClan now.” He spat the word SootClan with contempt.
Timberstar decided he enjoyed this cat. They were very like-minded. “If you would like,” Timberstar meowed, “you and your clanmates may join TimberClan. We would be happy to have you.”
“Thank you for the offer, we accept,” meowed Thorntooth.
V. The Dissenter
It turned out that the former MeadowClan cats were all too willing to help with Timberstar’s plan. The only cat who never seemed to be fully enthusiastic about the entire affair was Swiftclaw. She continuously urged Timberstar to end the war. Timberstar ignored her; he found it annoying.
VI. The Messenger
Timberstar and the cats of TimberClan fought the war for many moons. As cats died on the battlefield, personal grudges developed against the Fiery Clans, as they came to be called. The TimberClan cats switched camps, and had to leave the Stone of Time in favor of the Stone of Generations, at the new camp. Through it all, Timberstar’s loyal deputy stayed by his side. Miraculously, she was never killed, nor showed any wish to become an elder, even as she began to age. She continued to beseech Timberstar about ending the war; however, she never wavered in her devotion to him or to what he commanded her to do. She raised kits that were taken from the Fiery Clans for him; she was the perfect deputy.
One day, while they were battling SootClan in an attack that Timberstar had started, she was mortally wounded. Timberstar stopped fighting and went to her when she asked for him. By this time, Timberstar cared about nothing but the war. He was impatient; he had no time for the dead or dying, only for the living.
“What?” He snapped irritably as he came to where Swiftclaw lay. Swiftclaw looked at Fadedpelt, urging her to leave with her eyes. She understood and walked off slowly. Fadedpelt was old; she would soon join StarClan.
“Timberstar,” Swiftclaw meowed softly, “there are things I must tell you. I am dying, and you must know these things. First, I know that Meadowstar was your mate.” Timberstar froze.
“How did you find out?” he meowed, astonished.
“It doesn’t matter.” She replied, “I have much to say, and very little time in which to say it. Secondly, though this probably does not matter so much to you, I love you; I have loved you and will always love you, even though you do not love me.”
This barely provoked a twitch of the whiskers from Timberstar.
“Next, I must ask you, once again, to end this terrible war.” She plowed on, speaking quickly, “Fourth, I have a message for you from Meadowstar. She came to me in a dream, and told me to tell you that she wanted you back. That you were no longer the cat she fell in love with, that you were becoming more like him. She said she wanted her sweet Timberstar back.”
Timberstar was stunned. Meadowstar thought he was becoming like that monster? Like that vile, evil creature? Swiftclaw must have been mistaken; she was getting old, after all.
“Finally,” Swiftclaw meowed, her voice barely audible, “You must know that Meadowstar bore your kits. She gave them to me to find a suitable queen for them in TimberClan, as she could not care for them. She said you would feel awful if you knew of them, which is why she gave them away. Their names are…”
“What?! What are their names?” Timberstar asked urgently. But Swiftclaw did not answer; she was dead.
Timberstar staggered back, and sat, in a stupor. He had kits. His family was in his Clan somewhere. And he didn’t know who they were.
VII. The Replacement
At moonhigh the night after the battle, Timberstar emerged from his den and mounted the Stone of Generations.
“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Stone of Generations for a Clan meeting!” he called. The cats padded out one by one. They were tired and sore; many had looks of despair on their faces. They had lost the battle that day, and many of their clanmates as well. There was nothing to be happy about. Many of the cats had already been in the clearing, holding vigil for Swiftclaw, or one of the other four cats who had died. All of the cats knew why Timberstar had called the meeting, and it was no surprise which cat would be chosen as Timberstar’s new deputy.
“I say these words before the body of Swiftclaw,” he began, “so that her spirit may hear and approve my choice. Thorntooth will be the new deputy of TimberClan.” There was some purring and congratulations, but no cat was really in the mood for celebration.
“I am honored.” Thorntooth meowed, “I never expected to receive this post. Thank you, I will do my best to serve TimberClan.” That night, though few cats noticed, as most were exhausted, a lone cloud made its way over the surface of the moon. Timberstar fell asleep that night with a feeling of hope in his chest. With Thorntooth in charge, the war would continue.
VIII. The Last Breath
The war continued through the rest of Timberstar’s nine lives. He met his match in a case of greencough. The new medicine cat, Poppysky, was with him in his den on the last day. At sunhigh, Timberstar opened his fever-bright eyes and spoke to her, his voice hoarse.
“I see the forest.” He croaked, “I see the dead forest where I must wander for a long time. A very long time, Fadedpelt. Wait. Wait, she has saved me. I see her, Fadedpelt, I see her; she wants me to come with her. But what? I thought you wanted… Of course, I will tell Thorntooth. I will tell Thorntooth that peace must come. Get Thorntooth.” He ordered.
Poppysky poked her head outside of the den, but Timberstar called her back.
“Not yet. You have to know. Someone must know. I loved her. I loved Meadowstar.” Poppysky was taken aback; she had never heard anything about this. “You are not to tell anyone. Except for your apprentice. Yes, Silverpaw should know. Tell her to tell her apprentice, to keep the knowledge alive. But no one else.”
She nodded, still speechless. “Now, get Thorntooth.” He repeated.
She ran outside the den and told the waiting deputy that Timberstar wanted to see him. He bounded in.
“Thorntooth,” Timberstar meowed, each breath costing him dearly, “I need you…I need you to…”
“No need to say it Timberstar,” Thorntooth meowed, as Timberstar died; it was sunset. “I know what you want. Of course I’ll rip his throat out for you.”
IX. The Legacy
And so Timberstar’s legacy was one of violence. Poppysky told Thornstar repeatedly that fighting was not what Timberstar had wanted when he’d died, that he’d said he’d wanted peace; that the fighting must end. But no one ever listened to her. It did not fit with the image of Timberstar the cats knew, and so they did not accept it. Timberstar’s private battle to avenge his secret mate still rages, and he, up in StarClan, wishes he had had just one more breath, one more second to tell Thorntooth to stop the violence.
