Killing a Mockingbird (Cedarstep)

[hawkstar]

A cold wind ripped across the lake, sending sloshing waves up on the banks of WindClan territory. Night had fallen, but it was obvious that dark clouds blotted the sky, as the stars were gone, and only rarely did the moon push it's way out, lighting the world pale colours until finally it once again would be hidden, powerless against the onslaught of darkness. This however was a good night for the WindClan tom, Brokenjaw. He was, as far as the clans saw, a monster. His tabby coat was in shambles, his ears were tattered shreds upon his head, and his jaw lay at a crooked, deformed angle under his face, his canine tooth jutting up from up it out of his mouth, the other bottom one ripped out.

He was the Clan shut-in per say. No one saw him in any Clan, kits and apprentices, even warriors spread rumors, and all of the Clans seemed to have their own.

Brokenjaw was half cat, half dog, and a violent, slobbering monster who held WindClan hostage, and when a cat when missing in any Clan, it had been stolen, and fed to Brokenjaw.

Brokenjaw was a twisted, faceless cat with hollow black eyes, who ate kits who wandered from the nursery. He left bloody paw prints when he walked from all of the cats he had killed.

If you looked into Brokenjaw's eyes, you would die instantly of fright.

Of course, none of the stories were true, for his was only a unfortunate cat, not a monster. As an apprentice, he was mauled by a dog, that shattered his jaw, ripped up his ears, and turned him into a "monster" in everyone's eyes- and his eyes weren't hollow, black holes- there were wide, and silver as the moon, always filled with fear and sadness. As the clouds once again blotted out the moon, the old tom sat down, half hidden in the shadow of a patch of heather, staring out into the blackness. The island loomed before him, the one place that connected all of the Clans, a place he had never been too, for once his accident gave him his warrior name, and kept him in the Medicine cat's den, he never once again stepped out of camp, aside from while he was alone, at night like now. He often came out at night to catch prey for the Clan, he'd find little treats for the kits, and maybe harvest a few herbs that he'd drop off by the medicine cat's den before dawn, only to help out, before hiding away in his den again, where he wouldn't be bothered, by the warriors, and especially not the kits or apprentices. They were all terrified of him.

[cedarstep]

It was not until the overwhelming stench of Riverclan cats lulled her out of her concentrated pursuit of a particularly sly little shrew. In any other Clan, they would have admitted defeat by now but there was not a morsel of food that could be wasted in the Shadowclan and Cedarstep was growing desperate to fill the bellies of the hungry kits in her Clan... even Riverclan, if they caught her would not let a kit starving.

With her heart pounding she did her best to find familiar territory. It took her a while but eventually she found her way to the the place she found to be lined with the feint scent of all Clan cats... she was on the path to the lake, one of the few places that the territories joined as one. At least if she found her way there then she could snake around the border concealed by the scent of water and marshes and perhaps nab a fish (doubt it) on her return. With every pawstep she took a building confidence grew inside her, making her feel very much the slinky little she-cat she should have been recognized as.

The orange tabby knew what it was like to be alienated for a number of reasons. She was a very striking looking she-cat, pretty as any other she-cat but her downfall was that she bore the colours and skills of a tom. At first glance, you would think she was male and even after the first initial meeting the impression usually stuck unless she flamboyantly flaunted herself in front of them... she was not that cat. Taunted needlessly as a kit, reigning herself to a life as a boy her last ditch attempt at being feminine ended up with kits, labeling her damaged goods. To say she was insecure was an understatement.

She was just near the edge when the moon was covered covering her with a blanked of black, only the stars illuminating her fiery pelt against the night's sky. She heard a noise from her right, bracing herself she headed for the cover of a dark patch of heather...

As she entered she collided by a skinny, furry mass. Hissing loudly her fur stuck up at every end as she took a swipe at her 'attacker'. She stopped abruptly as the moo uncovered giving her the first look at the tom. He wasn't handsome in the least but it wasn't the broken jaw or the ragged ears that shocked her the most - it was his eyes like the moon, so sad and lonely that they left her speechless. She flattened her ears still as her fur settled, with a body like that he was no threat to her.

"Why haven't I seen you before?" She asked quietly.

[brokenjaw]

It was a blur, the sudden awareness he wasn't alone. It permeated his fur, tainted his solitude, made him feel hot and uncomfortable, even as a cold breeze whipped through the moor. He spun around and pressed into the heather, only to realize that was a mistake. Warmth filled the heather further, as a cat, she-cat by scent, pushed in to hide- upon sensing him however, she lashed out, her claws just grazing his cheek- however, he didn't hiss, he only cowered further into the heather, his escape blocked on one side by the cat that smelled strongly of ShadowClan, and the other by sharp branches.

The clouds above parted, and the moonlight once again lit the world. The she-cat in front of him, he quickly realized, was a... tom? No, that wasn't possible. She smelled of she-cat, but her coat was the rusty red of a ginger tom. This confused him- had genetics changed in his years of solitude? He wouldn't question it, it just was. He wasn't a questioning cat, he didn't even like to be seen, or spoken to, let alone question the world. Her aggression melted before his eyes, and he shrank down further. He knew he was pathetic sight, the she-cat saw no threat in his bony form. She was curious, it seemed, as she questioned why she had never seen him.

It was of no surprise, Brokenjaw hadn't left the camp since his accident when he was Lichenpaw, and had never traveled to the gatherings prior to that. Even though this cat was about his age, it seemed, she would have never seen him, seeing as even border patrols were out of the question, as WindClan did not border ShadowClan, lest she had ever glimpsed the apprentice from the island, which even if she had, what was the chance of recognizing him after all of these years, while so deformed? None. He didn't know this cat, she wouldn't have known him, only his name should he say it, but still, her curiosity struck him hard, and seeing as there was no escaping past her, he would have to answer. His heart hammered in his chest, and his stiff jaw opened gingerly, "I.. don't get ah- out much." He found it difficult to speak around the stiff, crooked lower jaw, and he seemed shocked at his own voice. When was the last time he had spoken? He couldn't even remember, and the voice he heard was deep and somewhat scratchy from possibly years of disuse.

[cedarstep]

Her amber eyes studied him intensely... something about him unsettled her but no in a bad way. She was not accustomed to cats so fearful, so broken and traumatized by the sight of another cat. She couldn't understand his fear but in her heart she recognized it and it was intimidating for her to see something so raw and personal in his eyes. What was he so scared of? Something inside of her refused to let her free herself so her paws remained firmly on the ground as the tom spoke in his own scratchy tone so different from her own. She said nothing as he finished simply lifted her head slightly in acknowledgement. She was aware now just how nervous she was making him by the pounding of her heart so instinctively she loosened her posture.

"Don't shrink back from me tom, I'm not picking a fight with you." She murmured softly at the pathetic lump cowering. She leaned slightly closer smelling beneath his dirty fur to the Riverclan stench that hung loose around him. Up until this point she had assumed he was a rogue and even now, the lack of a strong scent persuaded her that he was just a lucky tom who had been granted living in the territory as a rogue. Besides that scent she could smell earth, moss and damp - a mix of scents that she usually associated with a nursery but by hell would anybody let a loner tom near a nursery. Satisfied that he was merely a rogue and this was not his territory she managed a smile.

"What is your name?" She asked gently, sitting before him quite comfortable. She knew by this late that there would be no patrols until morning (At least she was hoping.) and it seemed that this tom wasn't exactly inundated with social calls. Cedarstep wouldn't have been surprised if she was teh first cat he had seen in moons.

[brokenjaw]

He felt her eyes searching him, his rugged appearance, his answer, and suddenly she spoke, telling him not to cower. His gaze slid down to the moor grass below. She claimed to not be picking a fight, an surely no, she was not threatening him in the least. Yet. His thoughts were bitter, Yet you don't even know me. To appease her, he straightened himself, but now his silver eyes were locked to the ground at her paws as she asked his name. Oh his name, once it was lovely, once it was Lichenpaw, and he had dreamed of his Warrior name. Lichenfury, Lichenclaw, Lichenpelt, anything but what he was given, Brokenjaw. He opened his crooked mouth again, and hesitated. "Brokenjaw."

For one moment, his eyes flicked up, searching her face, then immediately dropped. He didn't care if she had heard the stories or not, although most cats of every age had heard of "WindClan's monster"- she could have been a loner, with not a whim of the stories, but the name in itself spoke of a broken creature with no pride in accomplishment or breeding, a cat known only for his devilish appearance. "A-and I ehm- am a WindClan warr-ior." Something inside of him twitched at the word Warrior. Since when had he been a warrior? He had been a mangled apprentice with half-finished training, only given a warrior name in the chance that he would have perished from his injuries. What did that give him now? Absolutely nothing. He could barely fight, hunting was a struggle he just pulled off for the sake of the Clan, all he could do was entertain those around him with their stories of what a beast he was.

[cedarstep]

"Brokenjaw?" She repeated recalling the name from somewhere. She thought hard for a moment before it came to her. Her eyes widened in surprise - this cat before her was far from the ferocious kit-eating monster that she had been warned about in these parts. There was no way she could believe that this cat alone scared even the nerviest apprentice from hunting here the thought was just ludicrous. "I can see the name but I don't see the monster. If you're trying to scare me with old queen stories then you've sorely misjudged my character." She purred in amusement though his expression said otherwise. Her purr caught in her throat as the old 'warrior' looked down at her paws in embarrassment, some internal struggle battling within his mind.

"Hm, so it is you. Somehow I expected someone... meaner." The ginger she-cat mused, flicking her tail. "You don't need to look so down about it. It's a strong name... Not one that a Leader would give out of malice." Then she remembered her warning that she was not to gossip with other clans, this to her was no gossip but in the eyes of Shadowclan it was and she had broken enough rules tonight she though sheepishly. It was Brokenjaw's turn to speak next and as difficult it was for him to get the words out he managed to get his sentence out enough for her to hear. Still a Warrior? She though impressed. With wound like hers they usually got tossed into the Elder's den (a very honorable send-off indeed.) and forgotten except by the elders who would retell their stories for moons to come as what had happened with Brokenjaw but not for the best reasons. Figuring she had come this far without being attacked she bargained that she would not be attacked by him... Unless she ticked him off.

"So, Brokenjaw Warrior of WindClan in RiverClan terrotory, should I show myself out?" She asked with a hint of sarcasm in her silky tone. She was a little more confident now she was aware that he too was not from this Clan so had no authority over him, rather they were both in as much trouble as each other.

[brokenjaw]

Instantly he saw she recognized the name, everyone did- but she didn't believe him. He wasn't a monster it seemed, not a snarling beast, not mean, or powerful. He didn't know whether to be ashamed or relieved. So, the stories weren't entirely true, but did that mean he was as weak and pathetic as he felt? Was he truly that useless. Embarressment kept his eyes locked on the damp dirt, and he grew hot under his unkempt fur. Within moments, his reaction made he realize how dead serious he was. She mentioned his name was not of spite, but of power. He almost suppressed a laugh, shaking his head sadly, "A-Oh no. It.. for my da-death bed." He choked back, sighing heavily, a sound that rushed from his scratchy throat in a tired heave.

He hadn't meant to wander so deeply into RiverClan territory. He had been wandering around the Lakeside, looking for something to bring back for the kits in the nursery, a gift, but before he had known it, he was facing a ShadowClan warrior in RiverClan. Suddenly, her demeanor seemed to change, and she grew bold. he had no say in this territory, he knew, and sarcasm rose in her tone as she spoke to him again. He flinched and rose, glancing at the she-cat. He stood taller than her, his legs the long, spider-like legs of a WindClan cat through and through, but he knew he could never take another cat in a fight. His silver eyes were soft, and held fear, fear of rejection, fear of hatred, fear of everything he had already been through, and so suspected he would go through again in his life. They also held an immense sadness over this fear. He didn't wish to be afraid, to be a monster of so many cat's lore, stories that Queens told their kits to make them behave. "Stay in the nursery, or Brokenjaw will get you and gobble you up!". He was a broken cat, more than what physically showed.

"If you wish." It was the first thing he had choked out today that hadn't broken violently from his deformity. He noted the cat had shifted, leaving just enough space, and his thin body slipped past her- almost straining to avoid physical contact, as if the idea of that alone terrified him. Free from the bush, back in the clear night air, the moonlight growing dim as the clouds worked their way, he moved slowly along next to the lakeside, a silhouette of misery, his tail dragging behind him as he worked toward WindClan. He wanted to curl up and hide for a moon.

[cedarstep]

Cedarstep stared after the tom in bewilderment as he actually turned tail and left. She didn't mean for him to take it personally but it hadn't occurred to her that he was used to being asked to leave or being shunned to one side in favor of the more 'able' cats. What he had said moments earlier laid heavy on her heart, being the affectionate cat she was, as she had never heard of a Warrior being named before he had actually been given no hope - and a name like that to take to the grave was even more heart-wrenching. Half of her wanted to go out and comfort the tabby but the other half was rather pissed that he took her seriously and turned tail As usual, her fiery head took charge and she sprinted after him, catching up to him quicker than a fleeing mouse.

"I was being sarcastic mouse-brain! You really think I would let you leave like that after seeing you seeing me there?" She asked, blocking his path with her noticeably smaller physique. In the moonlight away from the shadows of the heather she managed to get a better look at Brokenjaw physically and to be honest it wasn't that bad. Sure he was thin, his fur was in desperate need of a good bath, his ears were torn beyond repair, his jaw was at a crooked angle from Starclan-knows-what, his coloring was dulling and the noticeable signs of an aging cat were showing but all in all if you cleaned him up a bit he wouldn't be that bad. Scowling she moved closer until their faces were about a tails-length away from each other and stared into his moonlight-silver eyes. "My kits have more manners than that! So please, humor me." Still staring her expression slackened and the corners of her maw curled into a sweet smile after what seemed like a lifetime.

"I won't tell if you don't."

[brokenjaw]

He hadn't gotten very far before he heard paws hitting the sand, and the ginger she-cat was back at his side, only there was a annoyance this time, at him, no surprise, for running off. She was so serious, he flinched back a bit, but was proud of himself, for he avoided the urge to use that WindClan speed of his to take off. In his ears, however, her comment could very well be a threat. What would she do to him to keep him quiet? With all of the recent deaths within the clans, tensions were high, would that be enough to silence him permanently, to keep her clear of suspicion. He was suddenly quite nervous, but his paws were glued in place as she scowled at him, her face close, her eyes burning into his mercilessly.

He murmured out an apology as she mentioned her kits having better manners, however he wasn't sure why. He hadn't done much aside from trying to get out of a situation that made him uncofortable, but he was a cat to apologize, and he would, over and over again if necessary. Suddenly, her expression melted, and she smiled, telling him that she'd tell no one if he didn't. His eyes didn't change expression, although a humorless smile, rendered violently lopsided by the crooked jaw formed on his face, "Re-Right. I have ne-no one to tell." It was the brutal truth, his own clan denied his existence- but oddly, Brokenjaw didn't feel sorry for himself. StarClan had willed him to be this way, to live this life, so he'd live it until the day he died. Somedays, he couldn't help but wonder if he was supposed to have died in the dog attack, and by some misfortune, had survived, but here he was, 50 moons old and for the most part, alive. He heaved a sigh and sat down, wrapping his battered tail around his paws. He was a nervous, defeated cat, and that showed at all times, and now, even sitting up right, he seemed hunched over, as if his spine was broken and not his jaw. He shook his head slowly, "No one to tell. Eh- I'll tell no-one."

[cedarstep]

He seemed to quake, like most did, under her temper and at one point she was sure he tried to smile though the expression in his eyes didn't change in the slightest but Cedarstep wasn't put off either if anything she was growing ever more curious about this cat. Though he seemed to bat away any attempts at direct socialization, he did answer her questions making her sure that he wasn't completely adverse to a bit of companionship even if it was just for a night. Briefly the thought of ShadowClan and Hawkstar's expression when she returned home with no prey and smelling of other cats - oh the trouble she would be in. Maybe it showed in her wobbly waddle as she took up stance beside him.

"I'm Cedarstep by the way. I can tell you my name now, not that there's many orange-pelted she-cats in the clan other than myself." She added cheerfully catching another quick sniff of his earthy scent which she was finding somewhat comforting. Smelled a bit like the quarry. "There's always someone to tell isn't there? I'm speaking to you and we've hardly met. Isn't that something..." Taking a few steps away from him in the direction of ShadowClan she looked over her shoulder and winked. "Would you like to walk me back? Um, or should I say it more directly?"

They had known each other for a short time but she had a trusting nature, one that wasn't exactly favored amongst the Warriors of her Clan hence the reason few respected her enough which had nothing to do with her skills. She was more than adequate in most fields - just the pursuits of her heart seemed to be her downfall. A family failing if Peachblosslom was to be taken into account. Should she tell Peachblossom when she returned? She probably should but looking back at the tom, she had a feeling she wanted to keep this little adventure to herself...