Read Between the Lines (MistxFire)

[Spec]

"Don't fret precious I'm here,
step away from the window,
and go back to sleep.
Lay your head down child,
I won't let the boogeyman come.
Countin' bodies like sheep
To the rhythm of the war drums.
Pay no mind to the rabble -
Pay no mind to the rabble.
Head down, go to sleep
to the rhythm of the war drums."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

With a bemused expression, the she-cat watched as her previously tender apprentice curdled before her very eyes. Like tensed sinews ready to spring, the hardness morphed his being, filling every pore with dedication and power, the image she would have him ware for the rest of his days. She still could not get over the gift Starclan had indeed blessed her with; the gift of speech-craft, in which she could guide her devoted clanmates to a better, purer tomorrow. As Firepaw, the rest of Fogclan would follow, and then – the entire forest. Like a patient pendulum, her tail rocked back and forth, lashing calmly before the storm, as it always had a mind of its own, she could never fully control the excitement of such future welling in her chest, soaked with her duty and pride that Starclan had chosen her alone to carry out Their Decree. If before her vision had become blurry whenever she caught the flame furred apprentice's gaze, her sight had sharpened threefold, confident of Firepaw's faith to her as he announced it to her awaiting ears. There was no room for doubt, now, he had proved that, saw the flame of Truth that smouldered in his optics, clear and glistening as they lifted to set them deeply inside her own. For once, his word had meaning, absolute and without hindrance or immature rashness. He spoke his oath as good as any of her devoted warriors, and for that, he was ultimately worthy of her protection. “Very good, Firepaw. At this, I'll certainly hold you to your word.” Her words, although soaked in the familiar formality of her speech, seemed softened simply by his admiration for her. Ah, young hearts were surely the most sweet... “That, my dear, might be sooner than you think.” She spoke her last words after he had broadcast his hopes for her future, a very near future. A simple smile curled along her lips, utterly sincere as if her actions had not ill intention, but how could Mistpelt understand? It was beyond her control.

Poised upon four paws, she motioned for the apprentice to follow with a flick of her black ringed tail. Wordlessly, she shifted her weight, angling her body momentarily away from him as her ears registered a tiny rustling from the bushes beside them a few strides away. A flash of grey meandered across her vision, causing the ever keen eyes to narrow and thin into dangerous slits, calculating and precise. Her entire body melted flawlessly into the foliage, claws unsheathed into cruel points as she inched closer towards the lone mouse. And suddenly – all in one motion, her muscled released and her body soared towards her quarry, landing heavily upon the creature's flank before striking out like a adder for the killing blow to the spine. She recoiled slowly, as if time lagged behind her, as her sea foam orbs stared at her catch, expression unreadable as she observed how still it had become in death. A mute sigh escaped her lips, void of any and all emotion as she once more turned her attention towards the tom. “I have made up my mind, Firepaw. I have decided to share with you something very important, something that should not to be shared with anyone unless I permit it.” She paused for impact, letting her words seep into his flesh. “Starclan sent me a vision – a vision that will change the whole forest. It was in the form of a dream while I slept; listen to Their Word...I remember seeing a very small outcrop...A fog lingered over the earth. Flowers sprung where the fog touched and life seemed well, but then...something fell from the sky and I soon saw that it was a feather and I heard the cry of an owl as it descended upon the ground. When it settled, the fog receded from it as if it were cursed. There the feather stayed, void of any life, while the flowers died around it. I thought the earth would simply die, but as I watched further and squinted through the darkness, a ghostly mist fell upon the feather and the feather blew away. It ended up getting caught in a pine tree. Then the fog mysteriously came back into the clearing, although it was dry, but with the mist, they moistened the ground and brought back the life, restoring it three fold. That was when I awoke.” Again, she willed herself to take in precious breath to pierce his gaze, burning every image into his mind before the fire smoldered away, yet still lingered upon the air.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Pay no mind what other voices say.
They don't care about you, like I do.
Safe from pain, and truth, and choice, and other poison devils,
See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do.
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and all your demons...
I'll be the one to protect you from
A will to survive and a voice of reason...
I'll be the one to protect you from
Your enemies and your choices son...
They're one and the same
I must isolate you.
Isolate and save you from yourself!"

[Whiskers]

The words that Mistpelt said…could they be true? They seemed so fantastic that it was not possible… a real message from Starclan! Firepaw’s fur stood on end and his whiskers trembled in awe. How…how… fabulous! He could scarcely believe it. But it was coming from Mistpelt, and one look into the deputy’s fierce, unyielding eyes told him it was no lie. Not only had Starclan contacted her, but they had personally shared their bidding. They had instructed her with orders. Firepaw, while young and inexperienced, was smart enough to see what Starclan had in store for Mistpelt and their clan. It was clear as day to Firepaw. The owl feather, the majestic mist, the fog—Starclan had not bothered to be too cryptic.

Owlstar had to be overthrown so Mistpelt could take over and bring Fogclan to proper glory.
It was just as Rowanheart told him so, back when Firepaw was just a kit in the nursery. His father had told him and his brother that Fogclan was the chosen clan. And the time had come it seemed, for Starclan to intervene and wipe Fogclan clean of its sin. And the first one to go would be that awful Owlstar. Firepaw’s eyes burned just thinking of her and how he had trusted her and given her his enthusiasm, his dedication! And she had spit it back in his face, along with the pawful of training sessions he had received in his near six moons of apprenticeship.

No more though. Firepaw wiped his mind again, of Owlstar, of her betrayal. Justice was coming, in the sweeping form of Mistpelt.

And she had trusted him. Little, forgettable, red-furred him. A mere apprentice, with mediocre skills, and a big mouth. How was that possible, that someone like Mistpelt had invested such a message in him? He felt the weight of this trust on his shoulders. It was heavy, but he would carry it with his head held high. It would be worth it.

Firepaw lifted himself upon his feet, his claws digging into the soil, anchoring him to the ground so he would not fall form the sheer excitement of this day. He met Mistpelt’s eyes for a moment, with a solemn promise echoing in his own eyes. He then bowed his head to her, keeping his stance firm, and spoke this promise a loud:

“Starclan has chosen you. So please, do me the honor and let me be your warrior, Mistpelt,” Firepaw said, with a ardent tremor in his voice. “Let me serve you with every ounce of strength I have. I know I’m not very experienced yet… and I know that I’m nothing like my father, or even my brother…but I can be better!” Firepaw looked up again at her, pleading.

“I’ll serve you till the day I die!”

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[Spec]

Was it right to intrust Firepaw with such a daunting task, the eternal oath that Starclan would soon rise into Their rightful place in the hearts of all cats in the forest? She searched his face for any signs of doubt, even when her words still resonated from her maw, half dreamy with such glory, such everlasting power and might. Their prophecy would never be ignored, nor undermined. Let those heathen filth spit in her direction, spit in the very face of Starclan's chosen. If they didn't conform, they would burn in the wallowing unfathomable depth of their sin, never to be saved, never to be purged by Their awe inspiring Light and Truth. If anyone could sway them from their infernal habits and beliefs it would be Starclan, with Their voice upon her tongue. When her eyes cast down their sea foam aura upon the apprentice, despite all her hard work, she could conspire nothing against the sheer trembling installment of joy, of fear, one of greatest admiration. Instantly, he gaze softened upon his flame orange face, tender and grateful as a mother looking down at her long lost kit. He was her child, as was all those in Fogclan. They were sired by the best of blood, with their souls given to them by the Starry Ancestors themselves. It pleased her immensely, yet forced back her emotion with a firm fit of control, wanting this to be considered all normalcy, for this would happen once more, and with hundreds more to come. She would save a little emotion for every one.

Firepaw rose to his paws, his fur dancing from every fiber of his flesh (form excitement, she assumed). Her gaze did not falter, and the once stony facade plastered against the silver streaked mask of her face simmered down, retaining the heat as it was replaced by one of pure compassion and hope, the expression untainted as her pride uplifted breath in her lungs. He would do wonders, surely, for Starclan had aproved. “Starclan has judged your loyalty and sincerity.” She whispered, voice lowered to an intense level as she made to define emphasis. “Both Starclan and I have approved.” A ghost of a smile, and she allowed it to dim to a smoldering flicker of fire, no bigger than a single flame of hovering candlelight. It was righteousness that made her speak so, with the firm accusation that Starclan walked behind, before, and beside her on her spiritual journey of faith, a path she wouldn't have to walk alone. So many had risen to Their cause; Volepelt, Rowanheart (among others) and now, Firepaw, her soon to be warrior. “Loyalty, loyalty always, Firepaw – till the day you pass unto the paws of Starclan.” She nodded briefly, once again approaching the flame hued apprentice before swiping her tongue lovingly across his forehead, her tail held high and poised as she remained upon four able bodied paws, full of claws that held no distinction between right and sin. Firepaw would be formally introduced as a cleansed cat of faith, in which he would stand by her side as she conquered the rampant sin of the forest, starting with her own beloved clan. “Come Firepaw, let us head back to camp. There is much to do – and so little time to complete it.”

[Whiskers]

He was accepted, straight into the arms of loving Starclan. Straight into the arms of Mistpelt and all that she was. To hear those words flow from her, to realize that he, too, was now becoming a warrior of Starclan, made his knees weak. It's all he ever wanted, after all. A title that marked him apart from the other apprentices. Something that made him shine. He wanted to turn heads. He wanted praise as well. And soon he would have it.

But even Firepaw knew that it was Starclan and Mistpelt that rightfully deserved the reverence that he was seeking. He was just a servant, a pawn to be moved by their just hands. And he had no problem with this. Firepaw had always been loyal and fiercely so, to his clan and he knew that the duty of a warrior was to serve and protect. The honor that came with the title was the consolation prize. The real reward was the feeling of self-worth. And though he wasn't a real warrior yet, he felt like one, deep in his bones. It would only be a few moons now-- maybe just one, two tops. He would rise to the status he long ago dreamed of, and he would have Mistpelt as his leader.

And she would give him the attention that he deserved.

"Yes Mistpelt. Of course!" He answered the deputy with the same rock solid spirit he had nearly maintained through their entire training session. He had only let it slip when Mistpelt had showered him in her love and care. And while he was still a little embarrassed of this incident, he recovered well and yearned for another incident like this, soon. What he would do to be embraced by Mistpelt...he'd go to the ends of the Earth and back again.

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