Home(closed)

The camp had begun to stifle him. The reeds that swayed in runaway breezes had once seemed to wave, to offer a gentle caress. Now they seemed as if they reached for him, desperate to wrap around his limbs, to hold him down, to tighten until all breath was forced from his screeching lungs. He couldn't say for sure what had prompted such a feeling. There was no singular moment, no final straw per say. It had simply settled over him, creeping into his fur, dripping over his bones like some sort of tar. He needed to be rid of it, to stride through the stones and ferns, to feel as if he had some modicum of control. For control and power, or even authority for that matter, were very different things. He could, as he had done moments ago, create a patrol out of thin air - he could grab whomever he wished to bring along with him. That was, in a sense, authority. But if, as they set out across the wetlands they so loved, a snake were to rise and sink its fangs into one of his warriors - he would be powerless to stop it. But such, he figured, was life. He was too old not to have accepted it.

His tail flicked as he roused himself from his thoughts. Spottedowl, Miststorm and Kestrelheart had gathered about him. Egretpaw had slunk in to join, as overtly far from his grandfather and mentor as he could manage. Magpiestar chose, for the moment, to ignore this. He nodded once, more to himself than to anyone else. "We'll be patrolling along the outer edges of our borders. In light of what we heard from Redstar and Rosestar, I intend to double our presence." He doubted he would hear any disagreement, at least not from his warriors. His ears folded back for a moment as he surveyed them each briefly. He stood then, his tail lashing with uncharacteristic tension against his hind legs as he turned towards the camp entrance. "Be sharp." He threw these last words over his shoulder as he bounded through the camp entrance and out into the greater expanse of Riverclan territory. He had been, he realized belatedly, perhaps rather abrupt. There was no taking them back now, and he found he was in no mood to make apologies. The smallest of wry smiles lit his lips for a brief moment. Perhaps a bit of cold professionalism would finally elicit a response from his oh-so-unwilling grandson.

WORD COUNT: 422
TAGGED: @lupa (kestrelheart and jaggedstone), @summerrain (hailpaw), feeling kinda blue (spottedowl), tikker ♪ ♫ (egretpaw) and @dazed (miststorm)
NOTES: magpie is very grumpy today, sorry

He wondered what it would take to lose every one of his remaining lives. He'd heard of such things happening, though they were certainly rare. In times long gone, a newly risen Shadowclan leader had lost all nine lives after having his throat irreperably slit. According to the old tales, he'd laid bleeding on the ground, his body convulsing and twitching as he died again and again and again. Many times over the past days, Mapiestar had found himself lingering over that old tale. Of course with so many moons passed, one couldn't say whether the tale was history or fantasy. It could have been a myth, a story whispered to kittens once upon a time to prevent some behavior or another. It could have been any number of things. No one could say anymore. But a small part of him, a part twisted and mangled by grief, hoped that there was some truth in the old story. He held nothing but pity for this leader who may have been, for the pain he must have suffered. But it also gave him a sort of peace, an ease of his soul.

What if he walked into the river, never to surface again. The thought had been haunting him, dogging his steps. Every day it became more vivid, more detailed. He had to make sure he was far enough from shore - it whispered. The water, that dark churning water, would pull him down as it had so many others. Once upon a time, a similar water had stolen his mother. Only moons ago, it had stolen Hailpaw. Surely it could steal him too. He could almost feel the water seeping into his skin, piercing his bones as it washed over his head. In a moment, an instant, he would disappear into it's depth. His body would sink, would hit that murky bottom. Perhaps in his last moments he would thrash, apparently it wasn't uncommon. But a part of him was sure, with an eerie certainty, that he would be utterly still. He'd let it take him, allow his heart to stop again and again and again until nothing was left. Maybe it would be as if he had never been, no body to bury or mourn. Or perhaps, even better, his body would someday wash upon the shore. His death would be blamed upon someone else, not his own burdened heart.

He was dimly aware of voices behind him as Spottedowl and Miststorm sought to comfort his less-than-amenable grandson. A part of him longed to join in their easy chatter, if only to pull him from the recesses of his own mind. But he would not intrude, would not force Egretpaw further away than he already was. He parted his jaws instead, allowing the scents of the border to seep into him. They washed away all else, leaving nothing but Riverclan to exist. But no, that wasn't necessarily true. His ears perked, the hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end. His eyes fluttered closed for the barest of moments before flicking open again. When his eyes had opened, he appeared a changed creature. His lips peeled back from his teeth, his fur fluffing out. He had always been a large individual, especially for a Riverclanner. Now, in his full glory, he was rather massive. His tail began to lash against his ankles, his muscles tensed. He turned his head, calling out sharp words to his companions. "Intruders. Prepare yourselves. Invaders earn no leniency." His words were a hard hiss. A moment later, he burst through the underbrush, a growl ripping from his throat as he confronted those that dared tread along his beloved river.

WORD COUNT: 620
TAGGED: @lupa (kestrelheart and jaggedstone), @summerrain (hailpaw), feeling kinda blue (spottedowl), tikker ♪ ♫ (egretpaw) and @dazed (miststorm)
NOTES: CALM DOWN MAGS