A Hare-Brained Scheme (Whitesmoke/Snowfoot)

go on, get out of here, go. she heard a voice say

with an easy blow to the mouse, it laid dead and she picked it up gently in her mouth and walked closer to the border, looking at a similarly white cat with big eyes. she dipped her head in greeting to the warrior, and looked at him with her cold blue eyes before tossing the piece of prey right in front of his paws. “and that good sir, seems to belong to you.” she with a flick of her tail. the deputy, no, former deputy looked at the warrior and then smirked. “what do you think you’re doing, darling? does blizzardstar know of this?” the sun was slipping through the canvases, and the warrior? deputy? leader? whatever she was, she was there and looking into the eyes of such a strange figure.



whitesmoke sat down, her ribs were not visible as she was relatively well-fed. with the cats in her former clan mostly gone, she only had a couple of mouths to worry about feeding. and there was adequate prey for them, the land was finally getting back together-- like it always should have and like it always had been. whitesmoke knew she was right, the land was recovering. they were getting stronger-- whatever clan they were now, whatever they were anymore. they still needed the help, but they didn’t need anyone’s pity that went along with that.



they would be strong again. and she looked at the thunderclan warrior, “are you assuming that we need any help? my my, don’t you have a generous heart.” she said again simply, licking the fur on her chest clean as her brown stripes complimented her silvery white fur. her blue eyes looked up at the warrior, scanning him for any tension, for any sign that would betray any intentions. “but then again, i wouldn’t expect any less from such soft hearted thunderclanners. how is your clan anyways? i assume blizzardstar is very serious about any impending threats that may be coming your way.” she said curiously, with a laugh on her mouth as she realized the irony. they were no longer a threat-- or they could very much well considered be. after all, they were no longer shadowclan.



just a clan of cats together, with faith in the stars and the sky that watched over them.

his mouth was hanging open in a small “o” and whitesmoke dipped her head in greeting to the white warrior again. she saw him fumble with his words, and the cat had a feeling that one day snowfoot would tell this tale of the night, spent caring the squirrel in his jaws from the depths of the suicidal territory of what was once shadowclan across the forest, spreading his limbs like starfish to crack his back-- crying out before falling asleep with faint whispers still on his mouth. whitesmoke was taught that leaders birth pain like islands birth the seas they fall victim to-- and now she is reminded by his words. no, blizzardstar has no idea what this particular stupid cat is up to. i’m acting on my own.

she’s reminded by the solidarity of the warrior-- of shadowclan who left the protection and the certainty of their future in the stars. she’s reminded of the midnight rides that taught her how to identify diction, syntax, the actions of cats who were most likely to atrophy and rot with their own sickness inside of them. those nights are thes that taught her that she was like that, she was the one who was most likely going to decay and succumb into nothingness, counting up the moons of her life, ready to cut her down or send her back into the earth. these nights, she falls asleep to the sound of a breathing cat and wakes up to another with gentle words curled around her like her own brown stripes.

“i see, and i am assuming that you believe we need more help than you do right now.” she said, musing her lips pursed together tightly as she stared at the white warrior again, studying him. “you don’t look quite as healthy, i assume thunderclan has its own share of troubles, i’m sure blizzardstar would absolutely be proud of his stupid warriors, going around to help all others.” she said with a small laugh, not expecting him to answer. clan loyalty was the kit that no mother and father would want to sell, if she was not mistaken. however, she had been wrong about those in her former clan, they had taken their tail and ran. looking at the destruction that they lived in, not strong enough to regrow, to adapt into someone that they were not. something that they weren’t.

she looked at him, his bright eyes and his fidgeting tail, and his fumbling words. the clans have always survived whatever came their way. it’s the thought of being able to make someone else’s life a little bit easier that drives me on. you know, you see.. just, why should some scent markers keep us from acting like we all share the same values? if a clanmate was hungry, i wouldn’t hesitate to share a meal with them, what makes borders so indispensably valuable that we can’t help each other out? at the sight of his own flinching and his crinkling muzzle in distaste, she walked right across the border that was once stood between thunderclan and the non-existent shadowclan and sat down next to him. as if her own brown stripes would pass over and compliment his pure white pelt.

“yes, snowfoot. your nobility is something that seems to be a common trend in thunderclanners. always willing to sacrifice something to help the others-- however, with your logic. why would you have scent markers? why were the clans not one big clan, all set out to help each other, to train each other, to make sure as if you all were to survive? why not unite the clans and teach each other how to run swiftly, how to hide in the shadows, how to climb trees, and swim in water? why, then, would they choose to isolate ourselves, why is there a simple warrior code that you promised to follow when you were given your warrior name?”

she looked at him, curiously, “one. defend your clan, even with your life. you may have friendships with cats from other clans, but your loyalty must remain to your clan, as one day you may meet them in battle. two. do not hunt or trespass on another clan’s territory.” she smiled, “well it looks like you have broken the first rule-- for your loyalty to your clan has not come first. do thunderclanners reject the rules that your ancestors have laid down for you? those that have been set in stone? my, my, scandalous.”

she said, flipping her tail as she looked at the border that had once stood between her former clan and the clan of the forest. she belonged to no clan, thus the rules of the warrior code no longer applied. she felt a deep pang in her heart as she realized that while shadowclan was the one who abandoned her and broke the warrior code for not following their deputy’s words, she was also the one who had abandoned her clan. the warrior life. and starclan along at that. yet there were cats who followed her lead, who chose to stay behind in the wastelands. could they still be considered warriors? would starclan still recognize them as a separate clan from the one that abandoned them? and what would the other clans think? she smiled. they were a threat, yet they could be the most noble of cats if they wanted to be. thunderclan, riverclan, and windclan knew that there were always four clans in the forest. and as one had gone, there was room for another to rise. and whitesmoke would make sure that they would go on to the greatness that shadowclan had left in the past. whitesmoke and her clan would prevail. she would make sure of that, and looking at the warrior in front of her, so close-- she knew that those with soft hearts as he would be the key to their survival this harsh leaf-bare.

“however, i respect and thank you for your generosity, snowfoot.”

“raging badgers? you make me laugh,” she said, flicking her tail as her voice rang out like chimes. “are these the stories your elders tell your kits to scare them off? how amusing.” with the new found knowledge, she twitched her ear, and a knowing smile lit up on her face as her eyes danced. was thunderclan weak? “ah, i see. well with my knowledge-- have you tried your windclan.. counterparts? tallstar seems to take pity on those wrought with sickness-- that is, with green cough. if blizzardstar is willing to make such sacrifice and call for such plea of help. but, of course, he is always the proud one.” she said, her own knowledge trickling from her mouth like water drops from the sky. there was no hidden motive in her, had thunderclan be willing to help them out with such generous prey offering, then she should surely share her own knowledge.

“being a good warrior does not necessarily mean following what your leader tells you to,” she said, musing as she looked at the cat with her blue eyes again. she let the silence fill between them as she listened to him breathe, the distance between them could now only be measured by the number of whiskers between them. she remembered her refusal to stay home from the gathering, to show the strength that shadowclan had to the other leaders. and she did not regret it. however, those actions that sunflower and smallclaw had taken against her, robbing her of the cats that she did not necessarily need-- after all, they were not loyal to her, made her shiver with bitterness. however, her eyes clouded over, eliminating such feelings to be visible to the thunderclanner.

“isolation is what we, as warriors, do best. this all,” she said with her tail surveying the landscape, showing the tom her territory, what was once shadowclan’s territory, and then looking back into his eyes, “is just a show. as we transfer our resources, it is a sign of our alliance. a sign of friendship-- but a hesitant reminder of power, of strength. however, our skills are no better than yours, tree-climber. our strength comes from what others perceive us to be, we are only as powerful as your mind thinks. we are only as weak as you wish to believe. the truth is? there is no truth. our mind controls these vary divisions, the lines between our clans are built from our own intellect. our thoughts. the code is what our mind believes to be right-- does our hearts agree? is that truly what is right? that, dearie, is something that you must decide for yourself.”

“everyone has a weakness,” she stated, “and your weakness is that you will not die for words. isn’t that the pledge that you have taken when you became a warrior? are you rejecting the way of life that brought you, that raised you? that shaped who you are and who you will become? what can we use to judge if we do not trust the guidelines that have shaped us for moons and moons since. and you, snowfoot, if we cannot all be heroes. who are the heroes and who are the villains. how are you choosing to live your life-- by blatantly disregarding the wisdom of our ancestors? and do you think, do you suppose you know what is best? will you be willing to fight for what you believe in, to sacrifice your own life?”

and at that moment, she closes her eyes, breathing in the scents of the forest around her upon realizing how alone she felt. and she was a sight to be seen, with the strips and the braided scar on her shoulder that rises under her perfectly moon-silver fur. the jolts and cravasses of her spine fall and rise as her face is no longer at peace as she remembers the choices that the clan she had vowed to lead and protect had made. rather, she let them disappear from her grasp, she gave up her leadership without a fight, without a blink of an eye, and now she remained here-- alone and being cradled by the elements that were bound to wear shadowclan weak. she opens her eyes and tries to focus on the things to take her mind off of the fact that shadowclan is slowly killing themselves. and yet, she lives.