Stories dump

**goddess of ducks** · #1 February 23rd, 2018, 10:44 AM

Hey guys. So I’ve always done some writing as a bit of a hobby. I’ve never really pursued it all that much, besides roleplaying. I do it for my own enjoyment. So I figured I could share some of my stuff with you guys because most of it either sits in a private discord server of mine for no one to see or it’s on my deviant art which I don’t think as many people see. So yea it’s fine if you give me constructive criticism or tips. Don’t feel like you have to though. This is mostly just to share what I wrote and how I Write. This first thing is a short little story I wrote called The Star’s Lament. It’s from the view point of my main cat Cliffheart and it tells a bit of his backstory and his journey with his mate and then ends with the battle between Skyclan and the Dusk Syndicate where his mate was almost murdered and his son was attacked.

I've always kept myself apart.
I've always been afraid of hurting myself. That's why I don't get close to cats. I don't trust others with my feelings, as they are fragile.

I've always stayed away.
I've always strayed from my companions, afraid I might hurt them. I've always kept my distance because I didn't want them to hate me. Little did I know I was hurting them by staying away.

I've never known love.
I've always been too afraid of that. I'm afraid that love will fail and I won't be able to endure it.
I've never trusted anyone with that.

I've only trusted one.
I've only allowed one being into my heart. They were my everything. They calmed me.
They held me. They helped soothe me. And for a while, it worked.

I've only had one true relationship.
I've only been committed to someone once. She was my everything, my all.
My Star.

I've been told I was special.
I've been told I was strong. I've been told I was brave. I never believed it until it came from her mouth.

I've only believed in love once.
But that love was true. That love was my life, my Star. I was told I was their
Twin Star. I was told I was loved.

I've only told one cat of my feelings.
I was surprised when she felt sympathy. She confided in me, and I in her. We shared a bond like I've never fathomed.

I've never been loved before.
Not like this. I've never known the true kiss and love of a mother. I've
never know the respect one should have for a father. This was my chance at a happy ending.

I've never cared this much.
I've never held so much concern for one being than I did for her. I felt it
was my duty to protect her, feed her, care for her, love her. I felt love for her.

I've never expressed by feelings through actions.
I've never kissed, nor been kissed. At least not that I remember. It felt
amazing though, and I loved it. We were together with our feelings, and I was just glad that she felt the same way.

I've never been told that one person has become multiple.
I've never been told I was going to be a father. I've never imagined having kits.
I've never imagined myself as a father.

I've never known a fathers role.
I've never been so scared. I've never known what a father was to do. I was clueless and afraid. I doubted how I would do with them. Just the idea of having little Stars petrified me.

I've never seen so much love.
There were four. Four little Stars. From the moment I laid eyes on them, I loved
them. I understood then what it was going to be like. I understood that she and I were going to raise them, teach them, love them.

I've never known so much anger.
The Syndicate took from us. They took our warriors and our dignity. It was time we retaliated back at them.

I've never seen a battle like this.
There were many cats falling, both our and theirs. The anger in which both sides
fought is unexplainable. We moved on, but at what cost? It will only hold them for a while. We just poked at the nest, and most likely made our problem worse.

I've never known pure rage.
I try to not get angered at another. I know that normally when I get mad, it's my
fault and not something someone did. This time was different. This time they Attacked my family.

I've never known this kind of pain.
This is the pain that is unbearable, yet so many have bearded it. This is the type
of pain that breaks one into nothing. The type that shattered one down to nothing.

I've never cried so much.
I've never hated one cat so much. The False King shot the Star. She was there, inches from leaving. It was that moment that I questioned everything. It was that moment when I hit rock bottom.

I've never been so worried.
Not only did the False King hit my Star, but he broke my Little Star. My look-a-like was hurt, injured, broken. I don't know if it was a cold humor of Starclan, but his leg is the same one as mine. Now we're both broken.

I've never needed help as much as this.
As my Star lay there bleeding out, I felt completely useless. I knew she and my Little Star needed help, but I was frozen in horror.

I've never been so scared.
The scene before my eyes, it was my worst nightmares playing out. One never knows true fear until their night terrors become reality. I never imagined that this would be my nightmare, only until it was happening before me.

I've never liked not knowing.
But here I am, not knowing if my Star is going to leave me for the skies. Here I am hoping she doesn't leave our Little Stars. Here I am, hoping she is strong in will. Here I am, hoping I don't get left alone again.

There’s more coming once I find all the files >.<

**goddess of ducks** · #2 February 23rd, 2018, 11:03 AM

alrighty. this next one is actually a death post for three of my main characters. I hated killing these guys off just because they were always my favorite. So I got crafty and had them all kill each other since they had some bad blood against each other too. And yes I got permission and consent from the role player of Scorchedpetal before using her in this story.

This was the night.
Tonight would be the time he got it right.
Though he had failed earlier, he was back in full fury now.
There was no turning back now...

The Savannah had been quick in his scheming. He had slept through part of the night and pondered his plot. He had woken up around moon high and exited the camp. Tonight the breeze was low, rustling the silvery blades of grass painted white by the cool glow of the moon. The light of a thousand stars shone around him, adding to the bright of the night. They shone brightly as if they were trying to warn of the devious things that were about to take place.

His trek through the territory was a simple one and he hadn't met anyone on either Syndicate turf, nor Skyclan land. He had passed the body of Calixto, the Fighter he had killed earlier in the day. He had passed by the spot where he had murdered the apprentice who had spotted him, but the body had been taken back to the camp to be grieved over. Singe was now running towards the camp, his tan pelt blending in with the brown grasses of the plains on the cool cloudless night. He could see the place where the camp was, he could see it's borders. He knew, from stalking the camp where the nursery was and he began circling now while it remained at a ditance. He came to the point where he was in line with the nursery. He ran forwards, charging the camp. The tall cat raced through, breaking through the back of the nursery, grabbing the small Abyssinian kit from where he slept at the back. He hadn't caused a commotion to the red she kit that slept there, and no other queen or kit. He was soundless, and he silenced the kit with a growl. Singe took off, Beachkit dangling from his jaws. The look of pure terror on his face was enough to explain everything. But Singe took no notice. He ran on, through the silvery tinted plains. The gently wind tickled his pelt, teasing his short fur, this was it. He would finally complete his mission. He would fulfill his duty.

-----

Beachkit had taken a nice rest. It was dark, and only a few days away from his apprentice ceremony. He was enjoying his time as a kit, because he knew that once he became an apprentice, days would seem longer, they would be harder, and the nights would grow shorter. He knew rest would be harder to obtain, and so he took advantage of the lazy kit days. He had been sleeping in his nest, curled up on one side, keeping his distance from his sister, and only sibling left. Though he had been nabbed. At first, he thought it was Cliffheart, wanting him for something, but no. Cliffheart woke him with words, and the strange scent was quick to fill his tiny lungs. He had been shaken from his sleep in a hard way. He was being kitnapped.

The ride was quiet, and he had gotten the message clearly that he had to stay silent, or that meant the end of him. However, as he swung from the toms jaws, was overtaken by a body convulsing memory. He was taken back to the fight with the Syndicate, he remembered and felt how Onyx had ripped him from his mother's dying paws, preparing to steal him away. He hadn't wanted to be taken, but he had almost been gone forever. He watched as his mother's body stirred, how she steadily rose to her paws, now was the time though that it faded from memory to imagination. As Scorchedpetal stood, a cut lashed her throat, not given by anyone. He watched as his mother's body grew the wound, the blood pouring out like a waterfall. It was a horrendous sight for any kit. Scorchedpetal's body contracted and her eyes went stark black, all black. Her body collapsed to the ground, and instead of being saved, Beachkit was taken away by the cruel tom. Onyx sat him down, as Beachkit watched. His father could be seen fighting several cats at once, Cliffheart was fighting hard, but ultimately was taken down. He watched as his father was defeated. Blow after blow was dealt to the dusty tom, his pale green eyes filled with loss and hopelessness. He tried crying out to his father, and his cry only grew more shrill as his father was dealt the death blow. The claws slashed all along his throat in several places, so blood oozed from several different locations in his neck. Beachkit was paralyzed in fear as he watched as more rogues came near with Sagekit, Strikerkit, and Redkit all in mouths. One by one the cats chomped down killing his siblings. It was a nightmare, all sparked by him being taken away from his father and sister.His trauma continued as Onyx padded nearer to him. Those cold blue eyes stared straight through his soul. He felt horrified and petrified. This was not the cat he wanted to be with. The kingly black tom stopped right in front of Beachkit and lunged at him, the open jaws of Onyx came barreling towards him. And with a snap, Beachkit popped out of the nightmare. He was back, swinging from the jaws of the Syndicate cat, not knowing what would be his fate.

-----

The depressed tom woke from his nest in the warriors den. He sat up, blinking his pale green eyes slowly. The past few weeks and moons had been hard on him. First he had almost lost his love to a Syndicate tom, and the same feline had almost stolen his son from him. They had both recovered but due to sickness, he had lost Sagekit, one of the older of his sons. He and Scorchedpetal had grieved dearly over their son's loss, but it wasn't the end of the grief. It wasn't long after that Strikerkit, the middle son of theirs died. Having only two kits left, the couple had been heartbroken. Cliffheart could remember the bitter sweet day. Scorchedpetal had asked him to come on a walk. She had let her heart out to him, they had talked over everything, and the role that she normally played for him, he now had to play for her. But it was during that conversation that they had been ambushed. The evil ex-leader of Windclan, Singe, had attacked them, seeking Cliffheart's life for some reason. Scorchedpetal and Cliffheart had fought as one, but to no avail. Singe had left that night with a life, but not the one he was seeking. Scorchedpetal had been mortally wounded. She had died between his paws. He had sat there, holding her head in his paws as he watched the beautiful yellow light fade from her star filled gaze. It had been the worst moment of his life. His family that he had been so afraid of starting had seemed so perfect. But then, as if Starclan liked playing cruel jokes on him, they had slowly picked his beloved family off. His heart had bee torn and ripped slowly, growing more worn out by each death that plagued him.

Ever since that night Cliffheart had made a point of checking with his kits whenever he possibly could, and though it was the middle of the night, he had an urge that he needed to be beside them. Slowly and carefully he stood and exited the warriors den. He entered the clear camp, the silver moonlight washing over his pelt and making it look ghostly pale. He padded straight to the nursery, where he knew Redkit and Beachkit would be sleeping in the back. As he made his way through, he saw only one pelt, that of his only daughter. Panicking, he searched the nursery seeing if Beachkit was anywhere else. That's when he saw that some form had broken through the nursery and taken him. His pelt tingled and he raced out of camp, fear eating away at his belly. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't loose Beachkit, not after everyone else.

"Please Starclan. Don't take him. You've taken enough already. Spare his life...please..."

-----

Singe came to a slower pace, the kit dangling from his jaws. He knew that his target loved his family. He knew that many of them had been taken from him, his own mate taken by Singe's own paws. He knew this was the right approach. This was how he would get him. He came to an empty clearing, the same he had been in last time. He could almost replay the fight in his mind, how he had come through that holly bush and ambushed Cliffheart and Scorchedpetal there. He could almost imagine the she cat's blood spill as it mingled with Cliffheart's tears. He could picture it oh so perfectly. But now he had to actually complete his task. His goal hadn't been the mother of the kits. It had been Cliffheart. The tom's blood was what he wanted. The mother had only gotten in the way. He casually sat the kit down, staring at it with his yellow eyes. In the light of the moon, the kit looked almost exactly like his father, though he could decipher from the color distortion that this tom kit was more blue than Cliffheart. He smiled maliciously. "Don't worry Little One. Your father will come to save you. I mean no harm against you, or your sister." He purred in false care. Truth be told, Singe planned to get rid of the whole family, make it extinct. He wanted to kill this kit, the sister, and the father. But he would be satisfied with just the father. He had been told that this cat needed to die. This cat was needed on the earth no longer. He knew Cliffheart would come. He loved his family too much, he wouldn't risk loosing another kit.

-----

Cliffheart had run out of camp, running behind the nursery. Before he even got there, his instincts told him who it was. It was Singe, and he scent lacing the nursery confirmed it. He raced away, nosed pressed close to the ground. His twisted limb was aching, but he paid it no attention. His leg didn't matter. Beachkit did. As he ran and limped along, following the scent of the Savannah carrying his son, he grew anxious. Had Singe already murdered his son? Would he be able to make it in time? But again as he raced along, the path felt familiar. He saw the clearing loom closer up ahead. He could see the tall cat lingering there. That was the same spot in which he had killed Scorchedpetal. He came upon the clearing where the blood had previously been shed. He didn't care about being quiet, because he knew any form of attack would mean the end of Beachkit. He ran into the clearing, meeting the taller tom face to face. Cliffheart's maw curled into a nasty snarl, his tail lashing furiously behind him. "Give me back my son Singe!" he said, fearful for his last living son.

Singe turned to his friend with a malicious grin. "Oh, I think he can wait." He purred, pushing Beachkit further back away from his father. He pushed him so that his tall body stood between the father and son, blocking any attempt at getting to the other. "I think it's time you and I had a talk Cliffheart." he meowed, his deep voice soft and playful. "I do believe that you remember our last visit here quite well." he said glancing over to the very spot at which he had killed Scorchedpetal. "I am terribly sorry about her. I never meant to kill Scorche-"

"Don't! You have no right Singe! No right to speak of her, no right to say anything about her!" Cliffheart growled, his pale green eyes alight with fury.

"I do believe I am holding your son captive Cliffheart. I would watch your mouth or else my claws might just...accidentally slip...." he smiled, drawing his claws closer to Beachkit.

Beachkit cowered away from the claws, but to no avail. He was pulled closer, the claws touching his throat. He whimpered, his eyes growing wide and fearful. "D-daddy..."

Cliffheart turned his green optics sadly to his son. He never wanted this for his family and it seemed they were all suffering. Strikerkit and Sagekit had died. Scorchedpetal had been murdered. Redkit was suffering from depression, whether she admitted it or not. Now Beachkit was being held ransom at the cost of his life, and he hadn't even sworn to protect his Clan yet. He was a kit. And Cliffheart hated himself for ever having his kits only to let them suffer while he stood by helpless to save them.

Singe smiled as he watched the father look sorrowfully at his child. "You know deep down what has to happen. I can't let you go. You have to end here." he spoke, his voice a hard whisper. "But then again...I can't let poor Beachkit spill the events of tonight. I have reputation to protect you know." And with tat he raised his claws, beginning to slowly press them into Beachkit's artery.

Beachkit yowled out in pain. He squirmed in the grasp of the Savannah. He tried to break free but he couldn't. He struggled and pushed away, but Singe was too strong. But he had to encourage his father. "Daddy!" he called out, his voice hoarse from being torn in to. "I'm not afraid to die Dad!" he cried, blood welling at his neck. It slowly began dribbling down his neck as he cried out again in agony. "I'll be with Mom! She'll be with me!" he screamed out, the claws hair lengths away from killing him.

Singe had had enough. He pushed his claws in, and ripped them out again. He let go of the kit's body, the blue and tan stained with a bright red that oozed from him. He smiled up at Cliffheart. "There, now you don't have to worry about his suffering."

Cliffheart was speechless. No tears, no words. His heart ripped into pieces. All his sons were dead. His little Beachkit was gone. The tom had been so tough, so brave. His last words echoed in Cliffheart's head. I'll be with Mom. She'll be with me. Cliffheart, overcome by a rage, powered by none other than the need for revenge for his family, charged the tom. He raced full force into the Savannah. Despite his disability, Cliffheart felt like he was fueled by all of Starclan. He charged the tom, his claws unsheathed and outstretched.

Singe intercepted the blow, knocking Cliffheart to the side. He hissed, his cold yellow eyes turning to slits. He was happy. The son was dead, now he had the father to deal with. Singe used his large paws to knock Cliffheart to the side, aiming a blow at his already injured leg.

Cliffheart moved quickly. He rolled over, dodging the blow. He sprung to his paws with an evil hiss and leapt at him, turning to slide under at the last moment.

Singe wasn't fast enough to stop him from going under, but instead he let his legs buckle and his entire weight collapsed down on the smaller tom.

Cliffheart smiled. He had been ready for that. His legs were pulled close to him, claws extended as they faced the sky. His claws punctured right into the Savannah's belly.

Singe nearly jumped right back up. As he did so a yowl escaped his maw. It had been the wrong move.

As Singe leapt to his paws, Cliffheart brought his paws down, slicing open his stomach. Blood poured out, splattering all over the dusty tom. He quickly rolled before Singe could do something more to him but it was too late.

Out of fury, Singe lashed with his claws. Yes he was stunned and pained by the injury to his stomach. He would live, he knew it. He had to kill Cliffheart. He lashed out with his claws, striking Cliffheart on the flank, tearing his side.

Cliffehart yowled in pain, but he forced on. Cliffheart dove behind singe, clawing his legs. He managed a sharp blow to the tom's thigh, making him collapse.

Singe fell to the ground, his legs unable to support the sudden weight. He growled, turning and lashing out at Clifheart, a evil snarl draw over his face.

Cliffheart stood up, standing above him now. He unleashed an unrelenting force. His claws pummeled the tom furiously. He aimed blow after blow at Singe that he could not block. He clawed the ears, the nose, the face the neck. He managed a blow to the chest, though he had missed a death blow. He was angry. Cliffheart had never believed that the Darkforest could be anything, but he knew that when cat's became fueled by this anger all the time, they turned towards the dark. Cliffheart was justified though. He had now lost two family members to this cat. He was going to kill Singe. With that, Cliffheart made the final lunge, his claws sinking deep into Singe's back. He lunged down, his teeth sinking deep into the tom's neck. Singe's blood pleased him. He felt he had done the right thing. He waited, not daring to move from his position as he felt the tom struggle at first.

Singe yowled, the blood oozing through his mouth. The yowl quickly died. Was this it? Was he really being taken down by the tom he had been told to kill? Singe didn't want to give this disabled weakling the satisfaction of killing him. He fought and struggled, but he lost his strength. He felt it slipping away. Singe's head fell against the ground, his eyes flickering shut. He breathed his last breath.

The Evil Era Leader was dead.

Cliffheart stood back up once he felt Singe slip away. He was drenched in blood but that was not of concern. His cold green eyes glared at the Savannah who had caused so much death. He was dead. Cliffheart wanted to say he was happy, but he wasn't. He had gotten revenge, but at the price of his son. Tears welling in his eyes, Cliffheart slowly approached the body of his dead son, now cold and foreign to him. Starclan had taken so much from him. Only Redkit had prevailed, but she too was suffering. He laid down, pulling Beachkit's body into his blood soaked arms. He pulled his son as close as he could. He pushed his dull yellow eyes closed, and licked the fur over the puncture wounds. Beachkit was sleeping. It's what he had to tell himself. He was sleeping....right beside Scorchedpetal up in Starclan.

He didn't know how long he had been laying there, but at some point he had fallen asleep, still curled up with Beachkit's body. Cliffheart woke in a dream land. Though this wasn't a normal dream land. It looked exactly like the place he had fallen asleep in. He lifted his head, glancing around. The world had a funny tint t it, besides just the silver of the moon. It had a blue glow to it, and the Stars...they were so much brighter now...

He stood up, wiping his muzzle along the way. He felt weird too. It was as if all his injuries were gone. He glanced over to Singe's body, to see Singe standing there. His initial reaction was to lung at him again, and make sure he killed him this time. But then he saw a black and tan striped figure in front of him. He knew from Gatherings and some things spread that that was Forestpaw, Singe's daughter from Windclan. Forestpaw caught his eye, and Singe turned around. He may have been mistaken, but he thought he saw tears in the Savannah's eyes. Cliffheart began to pad forwards to see what was going on.

Forestpaw shook her head and approached him, telling Singe to stay back. "No, Singe is on his own journey now. I just came to visit him one last time. Yours will be here soon. Just wait for them." Forestpaw said calmly, padding towards Singe without another word.

Confused by her words, Cliffheart studied her pelt. That's when he noticed the Stars lacing her ebony fur. He gasped, looking at Singe studying for similar signs. Singe was different though. He seemed semi-transparent, but the piece of him missing was replaced by almost a black veil. Forestpaw was in Starclan...Singe was of the Darkforest. This would be their last time together. And as if on cue, Forestpaw flickered and faded away. Singe turned around, glaring at him, before he too slowly faded away.

Cliffheart was extremely confused by this. Why was he seeing Singe and Forestpaw? But his answer soon came to him.

"Daddy!"
came an excited shriek of joy.

Cliffheart turned around, wild eyed. It was none other than Beachkit, running towards him, a joyful expression on his face. Stunned, CLiffheart pulled Beachkit into a tight embrace, purrs rumbling heavily. But wait...Singe had killed Beachkit. He looked up.

There it was.
His own body, laying on the ground still curled around his son's.
Cliffheart couldn't believe his eyes. He looked down at his son, eyes wide and horrified. He then noticed the stars shimmering brightly in his fur. "Beachkit..." he sighed, looking over his son.

"Daddy, don't worry about me please. It's no good now."

"But your fur...why can I see you. What's going on...?" Cliffheart stuttered.

"Mom's coming. She said she would explain." Beachkit replied casually. "Oh, there she is." he purred, turning to purr at his mother.

Scorchedpetal met her mates gaze with a loving purr. She ran to him, curling around him, soaking in his scent. "My Star, you were so brave."

Cliffheart was overjoyed to see his love once again, and he too purred at her touch. Painfully, he noted the stars in her pelt, he had to ask though. "Scorchedpetal...what happened? Why am I here?"

"My love, Singe did more damage to you than you thought. Look on your body's side. The wounds hit some of your organs. You bled out while you slept my dear." she meowed softly.

"So I'm...dead?" Cliffheart asked, speechless. Yes he was joyed to be with his family, but he couldn't help but worry for Redkit. She needed him, especially now that she was the only one left. He trusted that she might hold, but he had no idea. "But...Redkit.." he meowed helplessly, the thought of his daughter having to survive without them pained him.

"My Twin Star, she will know we love her. She will feel our presence with her. I promise. We cannot fret over her. But we cannot stay here any longer. You did your duty. You served your Clan and died protecting it." she spoke softly, in that soothing voice of hers that always had the power to calm the worrisome tom down. "Now my Star, we must go to our home. The Stars await us." She meowed padding off. Cliffheart followed her as it felt they ascended the sky, into the heavens.

The two cats, stars lacing their pelts, walked the skies, ascending to their place in the sky. Their bodies grew smaller as they padded off. They walked until their bright shining pelts took their place in the sky. With one final flash, the two became stars, two extremely bright stars that stood side by side in the night sky.

They would always be each others Twin Star.

**goddess of ducks** · #3 February 23rd, 2018, 12:18 PM

the next three pieces are the story of my Percy Jackson OC Vance Feldner and his trip away from Camp Half Blood. He has been at camp for almost three years and now he’s being called back to his home for an unfortunate event.

Vance peaked the top of half blood hill. He was carrying his duffel bag and his Grey hoodie was folded over his arm. He was wearing his orange camp shirt. The night was cool, and there were so many other things that Vance wanted to be doing right now. But after he had gotten that message he had to leave. He didn’t plan on leaving forever. He had to come back. He had to come back for Clifford, and Camryn, and Gabby, and Kyle, and most importantly Cleo. He was a cabin leader now and he didn’t trust his younger siblings to not tear the entire cabin down. He would be back. That was for sure.

He jogged down the hill. He passed right through the magical border that had been restored. It was weird. For the first time in almost three years Vance was outside the protection of the Golden Fleece. It didn’t feel any different, but it was a bit of a rude awakening for him. He patted his right hand and it’s cast down in his pocket. Arkyne was in there. He would be alright. He ran through the woods with his bag. He was thankful now that he had spent time running. Now this jog was as easy as pie. Nothing to it. He soon reached the road. Where he saw the dark blue Toyota Highlander waiting for him. He approached the truck and popped it open. He tossed his bag in and slammed the trunk shut. He turned and hopped in the back seat. The Uber driver looked back at him. “Camping trip?” The guy asked.

Vance only mustered a nod. His throat was tight now. “To the airport.”

“Yeah yeah I know. The lady paying for your ride already told me to take you there.”

Vance just sighed and turned to look out the window as they started driving away. He was gone from camp and he didn’t know when he would see it again. And that one one of the most depressing thoughts he could have.

————

It was quite a bit later. Vance was at the airport with his single bag. He had just finished up security and getting his ticket. The loud speaker announced that his flight to Atlanta was now boarding. He walked quickly and placed his bag on the luggage thing. He then jogged into the walkway things to find his seat. The son of Demeter didn’t know how this was about to go over. He was about to enter the air. That was Zeus’s zone. Demeter normally stayed in the ground. He closed his eyes for a moment and sent a quick prayer to Zeus asking him to grant him passageway through the skies. It was an emergency after all. He just hoped the god of thunder would understand his predicament.

It was about two hours later that Vance looked out the window again. He could start to see the skyline if that famous city. It was a beautiful site, the city of Atlanta. If only it wasn’t such a horrible condition that he was coming back for. He had slipped his hoodie on earlier and found it covered in cat hair. The person beside him was asleep. It was indeed around 1:00am. Vance sighed. The sooner he could get to him the better.

——

Vance bounced his suitcase down the stone stairs. He saw Phoebe’s cat sitting there waiting for him. He approached the truck and tossed his bag in then climbed in the front seat beside the girl. Phoebe had dark brown curly hair. Her skin was pale, but well tanned from the unrelenting Georgia sun. Vance didn’t say a word as he climbed into the car beside her. He noticed too, sitting there beside her, that since he had last seen her almost three years ago, he had grown to be taller than her. So no more would she joke with him about Mr. shorty pants. Phoebe cranked the car and tore off down the road.

They drove home. No, not home. That house wasn’ his home any more. If they were truly driving to Vance’s home then they would be driving back to camp half blood. As Phoebe turned the car and pulled into the hospital parking lot, Vance looked over at her in confusion. “* thought he wanted to stay home? He always told me, when he wasn’t in one of his episodes, that he just wanted to go in the house. He wanted to be one of those Do Not Resuscitate people. A DNR or whatever.”

“He still is. Well, kinda. I told them to resuscitate him and get him back at all costs until you got here. I wanted to give you another chance to see him.” Phoebe smiled softly to him. She laid a hand in Vance’s shoulder. “I know it’s hard but I figured you would wan-“

“You should have just let him died. If I don’t get to see him again then Who cares. Because I certainly don’t.” Vance cut her off sharply.

“You don’t mean that. Now come on.” She said. She parked the car and turned it off she climbed out of the car and started for the entrance.

Vance had no choice but to follow her. He had been dragged here and he wasn’t already dead yet? Not only that but Phoebe was completely ignoring his wishes. Vance had been told when he was thirteen about what he wanted when he was reaching the end. He wanted to go peacefully, and at home. He didn’t want to be resuscitated. He didn’t want all of that medical stuff. He just wanted to go. But no Phoebe was in this now. Phoebe would do whatever the hell she wanted apparently.

**goddess of ducks** · #4 February 23rd, 2018, 12:23 PM

Vance stormed into the hospital after her. He stuck his hands in the pocket of his gray hoodie. He breathed in deeply. He tried to calm himself by doing this. With the inhale he caught a whiff of wet cat. Obviously Clifford at some point had gotten wet and decided to just take a nap in his hoodie. Darn cat. He just hoped Clifford was doing alright in the Poseidon cabin. He turned away and looked out the window. He so wanted to be back at camp right now. That was his home and it felt like he had been dragged to this foreign place to deal with something he shouldn’t be taking part in. His casted arm was rugged out of his pocket and he used his other hand to scratch as far down in the cast that he could. He turned around and Phoebe was gone. “What an idiot.” He sighed. Vance approached the front desk and got the attention of the lady working there. Vance put in a fake smile, “Where can I find Michael Feldner?”

“Right this way honey.” She said pushing back in her rolling chair. She stepped out from behind the desk and pointed down a hallway. “Go to the elevators right down there and go to the third floor. That’s where our ICU units are. Once you get to the floor there will be some nurses to help you out.

“Alright thank you.” He muttered stiffly. He walked down stage hall and pressed the up button for te elevator. A ping sounded behind him and one opened up. He stepped inside and pressed the button marked three. He stood in the elevator alone. His eyes looked up to the camera that was watching the room. He sighed. He was about to see his dad for the first time in almost three years. Now avance didn’t exactly have the best relationship with his Dad. His dad was much older than he was. Vance was sixteen and his dad had just had his sixty-.first Birthday about a week ago. With a ding, the elevator slowed to a stop. Vance stepped out was nearly jumped back in at the rush of people running by.

He heard the doctors and nurses yelling things at each other. They all passed rushing various equipment down the hall. Vance stepped back out of the elevator and looked to where they were running to. He felt sorry for the poor soul needing all that equipment. Vance turned and went to the nurses station just in front of him. He gave another smile to the people there. “Michael Feldner is where?”

“Visiting hours are closed.” One middle eastern guy answered.

“I’m his son I just flew in from out of state. Where is he?”

Finally one of the ladies looked up at me. “Oh honey...” she sighed.

She had a look in her eye. One of sympathy. Vance didn’t understand at first. Then it clicked. He turned to the way that all the emergency crash carts had been heading. Vance took off at a run. He bolted down the hallway, following the sounds of frantic doctors. He heard phrases like “Charge to 200!” and “Start CPR!” Vance skid to a half outside the door. He saw Phoebe standing flat against the wall, her grey blue eyes were red and puffy. Her eyes were watery and she had her hands clasped to her mouth. Vance stopped and looked at the doctors working on the man. He barely heard a doctor yell “Clear!” And then the electrifying thwack as they shocked Michael Feldner back to existence. His BPM picked back up. The heartbeat started beeping again in the machine. The doctors stepped back except for one. The nurses in the room moved the crash carts and the defibrillator out pass Vance. The son of Demeter look in. The doctor was checking his breathing with a stethoscope. Vance stepped into the room. His gaze was hard and his brows were furrowed together. “He can be a DNR now.” He said clearly, a hard edge to his voice.

Both Phoebe and the doctor turned to look at him. The doctor spoke first. “Son you do know what DNR means right?” The pale doctor asked. He seemed to be in his late forties maybe early fifties. He has graying black hair and wrinkles forming in is forehead.

Vance looked straight into the green eyes of the doctor. “Yeah I do. It means Do Not Resuscitate. We talked about it. When I was thirteen. He didn’t even want to come to a hospital. “ he said turning his gaze to glare at Phoebe. “Technically you shouldn’t even be making these decisions for him. You aren’t related to him. You’re his caretaker or his girlfriend.” He snapped. He looked back at the doctor. “I’m his son. I’m making the calls now. I’m his emergency contact.” He said harshly.

The older doctor nodded. “Alright then. It appears this young lady here has lied to us all. You are aren’t his wife. You can leave Ma’am.”

Vance smirked. A part of him really wanted her out. Especially knowing she had lied about his dad being her husband. But he found himself saying. “She can stay. She just doesn’t get to make the calls.”

“Yes sir. What would you like to do? Make your father a DNR?”

Vance paused. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He was sixteen and in charge of his fathers life. But that’s how it had always been. He had always had to help care for his dad. Especially after he got diagnosed with dementia. “Yes.” He choked out finally.

“Bu-but Vance you know he’ll definitely die right?” Phoebe spoke out in a panicked stutter.

“Yeah and I also know that he never wanted to be in a hospital. He wanted to be home. In his bed. And go peacefully.” He snapped. “He’s a DNR. It’s what he always wanted. He didn’t want to be fought with.”

“Very well Mr. Vance. I’ll get it set up.” He said turning to a cabinet with supplies. He pulled out a big red sign and hung it on the monitors. It only had three letters on it. DNR. “I’ll leave you be. Contact one of the nurses if you need something and if you have questions call for me. My name is Doctor Ashbury.” He held his hand out.

Vance shook his hand firmly. “Will do.” He said softly. He glared at Phoebe and walked out behind Dr. Ashbury. He turned to the other direction, following the signs to the restroom. He pushed open the door and walked inside. He bent down and looked to make sure no one was in the stalls. It was empty. Vance sighed. In a burst of anger he kicked the plastic trash can beside the sink. It toppled over, spilling candy wrappers and paper towels everywhere. Vance bent over and hastily stuffed it all back in. He sighed and bent over the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. What he wouldn’t give to be back at camp right now.

Several moment later, Vance walked back into the ICU room where his father was. Phoebe had retired to the only chair in the room. Vance had no form of entertainment with him, unlike Phoebe who was delved deep into a book. Vance walked over o the wall and slid down to the floor. He sat there, head leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He opened them again and looked at the clock on the wall. It was 3:00am. With a sigh Vance closed his eyes again. It didn’t take much, but Vance was pulled into sleep.

——

A hand in his shoulder woke Vance. He looked up at saw Phoebe standing over him. He frowned and looked down to see a rough brown blanket covering him. He sighed and looked to Phoebe. “What?”

“I’m going out for a few minutes. Are you okay to stay here?” She voice was soft and sweet, like a charm speaking Aphrodite kid almost.

“I’m not a kid. I’ll be fine.” He muttered grumpily. He had slept like a Hypnos kid. Except for that one that had insomnia. Not like him. Maybe the gods were trying to help him out and Hypnos just put him to sleep to help him out. He looked at the clock. It read 4:00am. Only an hour? With a heavy sigh he stood up. He looked at his Dad with a heavy heart. He knew he didn’t want this. He knew that he had wanted to stay home and go. He looked at him a moment longer. For a moment he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but it looked like his fathers eyes were looking right back at his own. He blinked, but it didn’t change. A faint smile appeared on Michael Feldner’s lips.

“Dad...”

Michael held his hand out, shaking with the effort. “Vance.” He muttered weakly.

Vance stepped up to his bedside and took his Dad’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she had already brought you here. I know it’s not what we talked about. She just did it anyways. I didn’t choose this for you Dad.” He poured it all out, relieves that he was awake.

Michael’s smile faded. “I’m in a hospital?”

Vance just nodded.

“I don’t want this.”

Vance looked at his dad. He had pulled his hand away. “I know Dad...”

Michael suddenly looked back. “Son I have to tell you something. And I should have told you long ago. It’s about your mother she-“

“I know dad. Phoebe told me. I’ve been at Camp for almost three years now.”

“Good..” he broke into a series of coughs. “Your mother must be..proud.”

“I hope she is.” Vance managed weakly.

“Son I’m sorry about all of this I really am. I know you deserved to know from me.”

“No Dad it’s alright. I found out and that’s what mattered. If only I had known about you soon enough to keep you out of the-“

The monitors all went red. A long beep sounded and a nurse rushed in. They pressed a button and yelled loudly into the hallway. “I have a code Blue! He coding!” She yelled. A moment later a rush of doctors and nurses came in with a crash cart. Vance recognized Dr. Ashbury among them.

“Wait!” Ashbury yelled.

Everyone stopped and Vance stepped back against the wall.

“He’s a DNR. Take the carts back.” He said solemnly.

The doctors cleared out. Soon enough it was just Vance and Dr. Ashbury. The two looked at each other.

Vance’s insides squirmed. He was breathing quickly. “This is it...right?” He choked out. He felt his throat clench. He knew the answer already.

Doctor Ashbury nodded. “It is son.” He walked over to the monitors and clicked them all off. The room went silent. “I’ll leave you to yourself. I’ll have a nurse check in every so often.”

Vance didn’t respond. He looked at the bed containing his father. He was breathing but only slightly. Vance walked over and took his Fathers hand. He fought off the tears threatening to pour out. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing this was only a dream. He wished he would wake up in the Demeter cabin and Cleo would be just across the way waiting for him. He bent down pressing his head onto his father’s chest. Tears dropped from his eyes and wetted the covers on Michael’s body.

“Time of death, 4:24am.”
Doctor Ashbury’s voice said softly from the door way.

Time of death. Those three words resonated in the demigod’s mind. His dad was dead. There was no coming back from this. Even if he got a Hades kid to do their necromancy, it wouldn’t be the same. It was hard, he knew that his dad was in the underworld now. He didn’t know exactly where, but he was down there. And he knew the necromancy could be fine, heck he thought that Kyle had that ability. But he knew he couldn’t do it. It would only be torture for his Dad. He had a way to save him, that would make everyone happy except for Michael. He didn’t want that.

A small gasp from the door and Vance knew who was back. He heard Phoebe wheeze and gasp. He heard her start crying. He didn’t have any sympathy for her though. His dad had died unhappy. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be medically kept alive. He didn’t want medicine or doctors. He wanted the farm. But no. Phoebe had taken him here and tortured him with that. The last place his father had known was sterile rooms and blankets and medicine and beeping and the whirr of machines monitoring him.

“Vance I’m sorry I should have been here-“ Phoebe started.

But Vance cut her off really quick. “No!” He yelled looking up at her. His brown eyes were glistening with tears. Yeah he was sad that his dad was now dead, but anger boiled behind him. Anger lashed out of him. “You should be sorry! You dragged him here! You’re the one that brought him here. You should have known that he didn’t want this. Maybe if you paid attention long enough you would know! And he didn’t want to be resuscitated! But no you let them do it! So shame on you for making his last memory one of something he never wanted. Shame on you for bringing him here. Just get out of the room before I ask them to bring security for you annoying me.” He finished, his voice quiet and he fought to retain himself.

Phoebe gaped at him. She obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction. Instead of listening though she came closer. She laid a hand on Vance’s shoulder. “I know how you feel. But I’m like your mom now so we have to stick together.”

Vance smacked her hand off. “You are not like my mom! You never have been and you never will be! All I want from you is a ay back to camp. And you sure all hell can bet that you’ll be paying for it. You’re the one that dragged me down here anyways.”

Phoebe stepped back slightly. “Vance I can’t take care of the farm by myself. I need you to come home and help me.”

Vance lost it. A furious look curled and snarled on his lips. He pulled his left hand back and sent it at her face. He hit her hard right across the cheek. “You piece of crap. I’m staying long enough for the funeral and I’m going back to my home. You can do whatever the hell you want here. Just don’t ever contact me again. Don’t ask for me to come home. Don’t ask for me to do anything for you. I only know you because of him. Now that he’s dead I don’t want any part of you.” He growled in anger.

Phoebe had been knocked back. She had raised a hand to her cheek and was holding it. She opened her mouth and tried to say something when Dr. Ashbury stepped in.

“What’s going on?”

“I want her out. Get her out of my fathers room and keep her well away from me.” Vance said harshly, glaring at Phoebe.

The doctor nodded and without question escorted Phoebe away.

Vance didn’t look at his fathers body. He didn’t want to. He slumped down against the wall and placed his head in his hands. He fell the hot sticky tears drip into his hands. Tomorrow would be one crappy day.

**goddess of ducks** · #5 February 23rd, 2018, 12:29 PM

Vance had gotten to stay in the hospital overnight. The only good part of that was that the doctors had deemed his injured arm better and they had removed the cast for him with a warning to go light on it. He slept roughly in a vacant hospital room. He woke up and rubbed his eyes. Phoebe had known this was going to happen so she had already had everything ready to go. The funeral service had already been set up. All Phoebe had to do was make a couple phone calls. Vance sat up on the bed. He looked at the clock and it read 9:52am. He stood up and walked out the door. He moved towards the hallways where the elevator was. He met Phoebe there. Her face was swollen and bruised badly. He could see a bit of red where he had burst some blood vessels inside. Good to know all his training at Camp was working nicely for him. “I need the keys to your car.” He stated flatly.

Phoebe looked at him. “Why so you can drive away?”

Vance sighed in aggravation. “No I need to get my bag out of the car.”

“You can change at the church.”

Vance grumbled and folded his arms. “When are we going?”

“I have to sign a few papers and we are leaving. They’re already taking the body there now.”

“No, I’m signing those papers.” He grumbled. The doors to the elevator opened and the two stepped in. They rode down to the first floor in silence. When the doors opened Vance stepped it first.

“You can’t sign anything. You’re under age.”

“Fine do whatever the hell you want then.” He muttered. “Just give me the keys I’m going to the car.”

Phoebe handed him the keys and Vance turned to leave. He walked right out the doors and made his way to the car. Why did she have to be such a pain. He unlocked the car and hopped in the passenger seat. He stuck the key in the ignition and cranked it. The engine roared to life and Vance sat waiting.

A few moments later Phoebe came rushing out and plopped down in the drivers seat. She didn’t say a word and she backed out of the parking spot and drove them towards the church. But now that Vance was looking at her, she was already dressed for the funeral. Her fancy black dress hung loosely from her form. She had already done her makeup and tons of tissues were stuffed in her purse.

——-

They pulled into the parking lot to see the workers pulling the casket out of the hearse. Vance looked away and followed Phoebe. He still had on his Grey hoodie covered in Clifford’s fur. He had remembered though to grab his duffel bag. He carried it as he walked inside. He looked around and spotted a bathroom. He pushed open the door and went into the handicap stall. He sat his bag down and unzipped it. He pulled out his dark green shirt that he normally wore to funerals at camp, the shirt he had worn to the small service held for Diane. He pulled off his hoodie and stood in his camp shirt. With a sign of longing he pulled it off over his head. He grabbed the forest green shirt and pulled it on. He stuffed his shirt and hoodie back in the bag and closed it up again. He lifted the bag over his shoulder and walked out. With a quick glance in the mirror he ran his right hand through his hair, trying to straighten it out a least a little. It was much longer now since the end of summer when he had last cut it. The bangs of his wavy brown hair threatened to shroud his eyes. He brushed it back and it it look semi decent before exiting. He walked back out the building and placed the bag in the car. He hit the lock button and shut the door.

He walked back inside to find his Uncle Alan standing there with Phoebe. Alan was accompanied by his wife Lauren and their two kids, Jaxson and Ava. Vance was the oldest out of his two cousins and he looked down at Jaxson.

The eight year old boy smiled up at his older cousin, revealing where he had recently lost one of his teeth. Vance gave Jax a playful rub on the head and returned the family love with a soft fist bump.

Vance looked over to where Lauren was holding the three year old Ava. At that time Alan had noticed Vance and he approached him. The two greeted each other with a firm handshake and an awkward hug. Alan was younger than Michael. Though he had already lost a good portion of his hair. Alan was one of the last people Vance wanted to see though.

“Are you holding up alright son?” Alan asked in his deep burly voice.

Truth be told? No he wasn’t holding up too well. No he wasn’t alright. He wasn’t fine. He was breaking inside. Tormenta like the sea were crashing around inside. He really just wanted to go back to camp. “I’m alright.”

What a lie. He definitely wasn’t alright. He wouldn’t be alright for a long time. It would be better once he got back to camp. Once he was back in his home, with his friends. Once he was back with Cleo. Oh if only he could have her here with him. It might just make everything a bit easier.

He thought back to the previous night, to his time with Gabby and Cleo behind the store. They had both just broken down on him and he had supported them. Now here he was falling apart and the only thing he would consider to support him was that wall over there.

He snapped back to the events around him as a guy in a suit approached the family.

“The service is about to begin. The coffin is sitting at the front and is open. We will escort you to your reserved seats.”

His voice sounded like it was rehearsed. It didn’t sound sincere. But then again if your job was to help run funerals it must get boring at some point.

The man soon became accompanied by a second, dressed just the same in a full black suit. They took their place like bodyguards and lead the family into the sanctuary. Vance was in the front, right next to Phoebe. He walked stiffly, both because of his mood and the wound in his back which had been aggravated by his sleeping position last night.

The family was walked in, everyone else was standing. Vance kept his eyes focused straight ahead, avoiding anyone else he might see. He sat down where he was supposed to. Right there on the front row. Nothing in front of him except the open casket. He sat down, his hands folded on his lap. He kept a stiff posture as the pastor that Phoebe had found got up to start the sermon.

——

The service began wrapping up and Vance looked around. The other pole bearers were standing to go up. The final song that Phoebe had selected started playing. Vance found himself standing and walking towards the casket. Vance stood tall beside the slick casket. He caught a final glimpse of his father before the lid was shut. Vance looked away and moved to his position in the middle. There were eight of them. It was Vance, Alan, and six other guys that Vance didn’t really know. He stood behind Alan on his side. He placed his clammy hands on the pole, ready to take on the weight.

The sixteen year old son, in sync with the others, lifted the casket containing his father. They walked in step with each other down the aisle and to the casket awaiting. They placed the casket in the rack and it slid into its place in the hearse. Vance stared as they shut the doors to the hearse, and jumped slightly as a hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked up to see his uncle looking down at him. Alan offered a comforting smile and then gently lead Vance away to the limo that the family would ride in to the graveyard.

———

The ride was long and boring. Vance sat in the seat facing backwards. He looked straight ahead, avoiding the gaze of Alan and Lauren. He ignored Ava and Jax playing in their side seat. He definitely kept his gaze away from the sniffling Phoebe. He was alone in this.

The car rolled to a stop. He saw the tent set up for them. He saw the funeral home workers unloading the casket. They sat the flower bundle on top of it as it sat over the hole dug for it. Vance followed the rest of the family out of the limo and stepped into the bright sunlight. He breathed in the smell of freshly dug dirt. He enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin. Who knows, maybe for once the gods were on his side.

He followed the rest of them to the seats set up and again, sat in the front. He looked up to the pastor who flashed him a sympathetic smile. Vance ignored it and looked down at the ground. He stared at the coffin and allowed his mind to drift and fade away from the horror happening in front of him.

He didn’t know how long it was, but eventually he heard the pastor say something about a prayer. Vance closed his eyes and sent up a prayer to the gods. Mainly Demeter, and of course thanking Apollo and Zeus for the decent weather. He opened his eyes before the others were done. He looked down at his hands. He summoned his abilities from Demeter and fashioned a small bouquet of bright red laceleaf flowers. The others finished their prayer to whatever god. The service was dismissed and lots of the people went back to their cars and drove away, perfectly fine after the service. Vance stood and approached the coffin. He placed the laceleaf’s on the coffin. “That’s for me and Mom.” He muttered softly. Vance turned around and was face to face with Alan.

“Said your goodbyes?”

“No I don’t have anything left to say.” Vance returned. He stalked past Alan and nearly ran flat into a young teenage girl, nearly the same age as him. He looked over the wavy curls of the fiery red hair. Her freckles face and kind blue eyes met Vance. Amelia Crimm. His middle school crush.

Amelia smiled softly to Vance. “We sure do miss you around here Vance.” She said in her heavy and sweet southern accent.

“Yeah well I have a life elsewhere now so I ain’t staying.” He grumbled.

“Well we’re always here for you. I’ll always be here for you. Besides You could even come back to Hillgrove with me. I would like that a lot.” She smiled.

Vance looked blankly at her. “No thanks, I’m fine where I am.”

“Well, you can have my number so we can still talk. Or FaceTime maybe.” She said slipping closer. She seemed to be trying to sooth him though it wasn’t working.

“Amelia...” he warned softly.

She didn’t get it though. She just leaned forwards, aiming for a kiss.

“Amelia!” Vance snapped, pulling back to dodge her attempt.

She looked up at him in confusion and hurt.

“I have a girlfriend. Try asking before you try and kiss someone.” He snapped harshly at her.

Amelia glared back at him and slapped him harshly across the face. She pulled back and her eyes welled with tears. The fiery haired girl turned and stalked away.

“The hell...” Vance muttered, rubbing his cheek.

“That fiery girl has always had a crush on you Vancers.” Alan said from behind.

“Whatever. I’m just ready to go.” He said walking away. He was done. With with the memories, done with the family, and done with his ‘friends’. He walked back to the limo and climbed in, soon accompanied by the rest of the family.

——-

It was noon now and Alan Ahmad offered to take all of them to lunch. Vance climbed into Alan’s car and ride in between Jax and his booster seat, and Ava in her car seat. They all rode together to a Chili’s. Vance took Jax by the hand and walked with his little cousin to he restaurant. He held the door open, with the help of Jax if course, for Lauren. He followed them inside and sat with Jax and Ava while they awaited a seat.

——-

After they had finished their meal, Vance swooped Ava up and carried her back to the car. His Aunt Lauren and Uncle Alan followed, Jax skipping in between them. Vance popped open the car door and successfully buckled her up. The plan was to ride back to Alan and Lauren’s house for the evening just to spend time together. Vance elected to ride with Phoebe this time so he would be squished in the car seats. The long bumpy ride home though took a toll on him, and not long after they left the parking lot, Vance was asleep.

————

Much later Vance woke up. The warmth around him and the weight of the covers confused him. He blinked open his eyes and saw the guest room of his uncles house. Vance clambered our if the bed and stood drowsily. He didn’t know exactly how he had gotten there from Phoebe’s car but here he was. He walked out the door and down the stairs. He found Alan, Lauren, Jax, and Ava all in the living room watching the tv. Alan turned his head with a beam.

“Sleeping beauty awakes! Phoebe said you had wanted to stay around a while so we said you could stay with us. Figured it would be better if you stayed here instead of going home to all the memories. She dropped your duffel bag off there.”

“What...” he stopped, realizing there were children in the room. He wouldn’t cuss in front of them. “I never said I wanted to stay. In fact I want the opposite of that. Where’s your phone so I can call a taxi?”

“Vance son you can’t do that. You’re grieving your not thinking straight.” Alan said standing up. He walked towards Vance, but the demigod swung. His fist connected with his uncles jaw line. He heard Lauren gasp and a crack in his Uncles jaw. A successful hit.

He saw the fury boil inside Alan. Before Vance could get his feet to move, a punch was thrown out at Vance. The large fist of Alan’s hand connected straight into Vance’s eye. Vance stumbled back, grassing the kitchen counter behind him for support. Alan ran at Vance, but Vance dodged this time. He jumps and rolled, just like he had done when fighting that Chimera. Vance stood back up and yelled with all his anger.

“I’m not staying to work here on my Dad’s farm! I’m not going to pretend to be your son. Your not my dad and this isn’t my home. Soon leaving to go to my family. I’m going to my home.”

That was it. It shut Alan right up where he was. Vance turned and grabbed his bag. He opened the door and didn’t look back. He slammed the door shut behind him and stalked down the path and the driveway. He stood for a moment. He didn’t have a car. He didn’t have a phone. He didn’t have a taxi coming to get him. He didn’t have plane tickets home. This would take a bit of work to do...

Vance took his bag and walked around the back of Alan and Lauren’s house. He entered the shallow woods there and stood. He closed his eyes. This was his weakest ability. He pictured Cassius, his Pegasus. He pictured him in his mind. Soon enough Vance felt it. Almost like a shuttering click. He now stood there as a Pegasus. A fully formed Pegasus.

Quite giddy with himself and his success, Vance trotted around a moment. He looked down at his back lifted it up. He clashed the handle in his teeth and fluttered his wings. It was time to go home.

Vance flapped his wings, like he had felt Cassius do when he rode him. Soon enough with a bit of running, Vance was in the sky. He soared through the clouds, trying to make it home. He had a long journey, so it was good he had started about 10:00am.

—-

Hours later Vance felt his stomach growl. He looked around from his place in te sky. He saw a McDonald’s off the side of a highway. He alighted down in a bit of trees behind the store. He plopped his bag down and grabbed his wallet out. He stuck it in the pouch of his hoodie and carefully his his bag in a bush. He flicked his hood up and walked into the McDonalds. He glanced up at a TV displaying the news. He was already in North Carolina. He was making good time. He paid for a to go meal and walked out with his ten piece nuggets. He walked back to where his bag was and sat down by the tree. He took enough time i est and then he stood back up. He transformed yet again into his Pegasus and grabbed his bag. To the skies he went. Home bound was his direction.

——-

After a while it started getting dark. Vance had been flying for what seemed like an eternity. He soared in, growing increasingly tired of flying. But the will to get home was so strong that he powered through everything else. Even his swollen black eye.

He flew on through the darkening sky. He felt his stomach rumble but he wasn’t stopping now. He saw the bright lights of New York City up ahead. Almost home....

—-

It took almost another hour to actually get over Long Island. From there he had to sweep down closer. He flew from above, his duffel bag hanging in his teeth. He spotted Thalia’s tree and spiraled down for a landing. He alighted right outside the border. He focused on changing back, and did so. It was a bit weird for him to be back in two legs, but he fought off the instability

He sighed. Forty eight hours away from camp. Too long. He hastily stepped through, instantly feeling that relief of being home. He walked down the hill passed Thalia’s tree. He then remembered that he had indeed left his siblings running the cabin for forty eight hours. He broke out in a run. He bolted down onto the trails, bag slung over his shoulder. He ran as fast as he could to the cabin clearing. He arrived and stood in the middle. The Demeter cabin lay to his left. He turned his head and saw the Poseidon cabin. He looked back and forth once more. The cabin wasn’t burned to the ground. They would be fine. He ran to Cabin three, nearly tripping over his own feet he ran so fast. He stopped at the porch. He stepped up and stood right out side the door. He held his fist up and paused. With a silent exhale he knew he would be okay. He was home. He lowered his fist, knocking at the door, praying that Cleo would answer it. His home was right behind the door, if only she would open up.

**goddess of ducks** · #6 February 23rd, 2018, 01:25 PM

Next up is a story series that I never finished. mainly because it got to the point where I didn't have an ending goal for it, and I lost inspiration for it may have forgotten about it too but it was an au I did for the Evil Era 2 where instead of all the leaders being defeated, they weren't and Skyclan actually failed in saving the clans.

“Had we won the fight against the Evil Leaders, gosh I couldn't even begin to explain how different things would be. I'm sure there would be so much grief, but we could pull through it because we had hope in our Clans. There would most likely be joy, that the fighting had stopped, the deaths had stopped, the pain and suffering had stopped. There would be rejoicing, because we would have at last been free from the reign of the evil ones. I'm sure that the leaders would have returned, at least the ones that were still alive. The a Clans would have thrived again, built themselves up and bonded closer together.

“Had we won the war, so many deaths could have been prevented. Elders would not be fading quickly. We would not be dying as martyrs for our faith in the Stars. We would still have hope in our annexes tore that they could save us. We would still believe that they wanted us to thrive, because they would have done everything to save us. They tried, but they failed. They sent their warriors, but forgot to send in the reinforcement. They sent us what felt like half the army. It did not feel completely as if we were fighting with the whole of Starclan.

“We were the reinforcements. We were supposed to be the saviors of the Clans. That why those two cats found us and told us their home was in trouble. We believed it was Starclan’s Destiny for us to travel and rescue the Clans who were in desperate need of assistance. We traveled there, led by Starclan, believing that we would be able to rescue them. Boy were we wrong.

“When we arrived there, we hit Riverclan first. There seems to be the main leader the top of the line. The root of the problem. The Clan cats who had visited us told us that this is where it all started. There, the Warriors of Skyclan had our first battle. I don't bore you with all the details, and I'll only summarize what I know. The battle was quick. It seemed every cat was locked in battle. The ones who weren't, were most likely dead on the ground. Grousestar leaped into combat with the evil leader of the clan, Bucknight. The two fought it all out, but I quickly lost track of them. Soon, I saw that Grousestar had stopped, staring off into the distance. Soon afterwards, the fighting stopped and the Clan cats reigned victorious. After so many moons, they were rejoicing in their newly found freedom.

“After a quick rest, we as a Clan, traveled to Shadowclan. There a similar situation occurred. Grousestar, fearless as he is, headed straight for the leader there too, the beautiful evil feline, Ashennight. The two fought again, and the rest were locked in battle. Many more cats died, on both sides here too. It was at this time where I received my first major injury. I received a blow, inflaming my already injured twisted paw. At this point Skyclan's beautiful deputy, Auroraflame came over and assigned me with my fight. Soon after she moved on to help the leader, and they too drove the leader away.

“We spent a brief period of time in Shadowclan. We recovered from our injuries, mourned the deaths of both new and old friends. The Clans seemed welcoming, but I couldn't exactly tell if it was genuine, or just relief that they no longer had to deal with Blazingnight. From here we began a trek to Thunderclan, but this is where things began to go askew. Near the border, of the two forest Clans, we heard war cries. We were being ambushed. Out of no where, cats filtered through the trees, Blazingnight and Bucknight led them from the rear, followed by several followers of each. As we turned to face them, more cries sounded around us, and word quickly spread that Singenight and his forces in Windclan had arrived. Almost at the same time we felt the presence of a new force thundering towards us. Thunderclan. Ratnight led his forces into the only gap in the chaos that would have allowed a way of escape. We were surrounded. Four Clans against one. From a glance towards Grousestar and Auroraflame ahead of me, I could tell they were on edge, but seemed to be holding together quite nicely.

“A quick, inaudible word was shared between Grousestar and Bucknight, and it seemed they were negotiating. I couldn't hear what they were saying, only bits and pieces. But I could tell, it was nothing good. Now, I know Grousestar, he is one of those cats who tries to avoid fighting if it is unnecessary. And I respect him for that, one shouldn't jump in immediately and waste innocent blood. What I saw next though, was the beginning of everything that had gone wrong.

“Grousestar seemed to be acknowledging Bucknight, and whatever he was saying. Although my suspicions were confirmed when I saw the flick of his tail and he were escorted away by cats from each Clan. He were taken to what the Clan cats called Seastones. There I watched as the four leaders mounted some of the sun stones and their figures became outlined against the sunlight. I watched as the black silhouettes became engaged in conversation, while we as a Clan waited in dreaded silence. Eventually, a large tan and black spotted tom cat emerged and stood tall. He was a very large and intimidating figure. His narrowed yellow eyes were enough to say that he was not one to be messed with. He introduced himself as Singenight, the evil leader of Windclan. We listened in stunned silence as the leader spoke for the whole, and gave us what we wished had been a death sentence.

“The large leader told us this: ‘We as a whole, have decided that after your weak and pathetic attempt to liberate the Clans, have decided to bring you all unto our reign as well. For we do not enjoy your visit here. But you have done too much damage to us for us to simply, let you go. And besides, you shouldn't really think we would be idiotic enough to let you go so that you could begin forming another scheme to free the cats here. With that said, we are splitting you up.’ My name is Cliffheart, and I was a warrior of Skyclan, and this is how our living hell began.”

Cliffheart and several other members of the former Skyclan were being escorted away. Unfortunately for him, Grousestar was being taken to Riverclan. He and most of the others were still waiting to be taken by one of the Clans. It seemed obvious though that Grousestar would be taken to Riverclan. If Bucknight truly was the cause of all this, then it only seemed logical. He had to give it to him though, Bucknight was not a dumb cat, in fact he thought him very wise and strategic, but for the wrong cause. Now if Bucknight had been for Starclan and everything, he would have made a fine leader.

Finally, he was chosen to be taken to Windclan. He didn't know much about really any of the Clans, all he could tell about these cats was that they were moorland cats. They preferred hunting rabbits, chasing the wind, and never living under the trees and their shadows. They seemed to like the open, but he couldn’t say the same about their personality. The only Windclan cat he had ever met was Singenight, and that was only from afar. Surely not all cats there had to be tall and menacing?

With a nervous glance of his pale green eyes, Cliffheart scanned the rest of the Skyclan cats that had been chosen to go to Windclan. He could recognize some of the faces, but he didn't know many of them personally. The only one he recognized at first glance was Auroraflame, the deputy. The ebony she cat’s pelt stuck out like a sore paw against all the pale coated a Windclan cats. He felt sorry for her in that moment, knowing that in all the heat of green leaf, that sun would be hard to bear for her.

After several moments of waiting, that were full of confusion, Cliffheart felt his small group being escorted away. Although for him it didn't necessarily feel like an escort, more so like a prodding type of persuasion. As his group was forced along, he noticed that more Windclan cats were working their way into the middle of the Skyclan cats. There were about eight cats or so that he could count that belonged to Skyclan, but now there was beginning to seem like more as the Windclanners pushed their way through, breaking them up into smaller groups.

Once it was too late for him to do anything, Cliffheart noticed that they had been separated from each other, in groups of two or three and surrounded by Windclan cats. Now there would be no talking no each other without some cat overhearing them. With a sigh, Cliffheart knew he had to press on. He took little notice of the cats next to him, but did sneak a few glances to see who they were. One of them was a new warrior, about a moon out of apprenticeship. He couldn’t remember exactly what their name was, Buthelezi knew it was Leap- something. The other was a young she cat apprentice with dark crimson fur that dragged along the ground. Her name he could remember. It was Redpaw. Easy enough to remember though.

To him, she looked terrified, the exact image of what he would look like if he wasn't so good at keeping emotions inside. She looked the way he felt. Dull brown eyes glazed over and staring at the ground, fur ruffled and paws dragging. He also couldn't help but notice her occasional, fear filled glance towards the Windclan cats near them. His maw curved down into a small frown and he slowed his pace as he dropped back with her. His pace was starting to slow anyways though, his twisted paw finally taking full effect again. Nonchalantly, he laid his dull cream tail across the young felines back in a comforting gesture.

She looked up at him, first in terror, but then in a hushed thankful way. The cream cat smiled and gave a nod of acknowledgement and continued on by her side. Soon they reached the top of the hill, and he could see the Windclan camp not too much farther away. He could quite tell distinctly what he was feeling, as it was a battle of emotion there. Part of him was excited that he was getting to explore and venture to the four Clans, but then with the circumstances that they were under, that excitement faded away.

They arrived at the camp, and the sun was blazing hot above their heads. As the groups were forced into the camp, you could see the fear becoming evident in the faces of the Skyclan cats. They had failed so hard, and now they were paying the price for it.

Smokeblossom felt her brother thrusting her forwards in a rough and hasty fashion. Back again, after so many moons of exile. She was a warrior now though and things were a bit different. She should receive more respect now, not like when she had last stepped out of the camp. Little had she known that that simple sounding border patrol with her mentor and Ashennight would have led to her and some other being exiled.

She hadn't done anything wrong, only stick up for the cat she believed in, Halestorm. But no, Ashennight had banished them and then taken over her role as leader in a Shadowclan. As the reddish colored tom shoved her forwards, she felt the urge to push back, let her brother crash into her. She could show him that she had changed. That she had hardened in spirit in her moons of being a loner. Last she knew of, Rusticash thought she was a weak, selfish dumb apprentice who stood up to no cat. That wasn't entirely true now. Sure her damaged voice had been a major cause of her shyness, but her brother also thrust that upon her as well. Rusticash, that was a main reason for her problems.

Rusticash, from the beginning had always bullied her, always tainted her, always schemed against her. The two had never had a close relationship. Her brother had always disliked her, and the only reason and logic she could out to it was that he blamed her for their parents deaths. Due to this, Rusticash bonded with their adoptive mother once they were found in Shadowclan.

Ravenclaw had always been mean to the young Turkish Angora as well. They had never gotten along well and Raven preferred the dark side of things, so Rusticash’s attitude definitely did not improve. Raven had been a cause of a lot of her childhood fears. She hated being rejected or disposed. She didn't want anyone to hate her, but she truly didn't care if anyone truly liked her either.

Then Rusticash had been jealous of her mentor, deputy of Shadowclan, and had made things worse. But she survived, besides she was a warrior now, things could be different, better almost; at least if it wasn't for the current predicament.

Rusticash forced her through the entrance to the camp. Almost instantly memories flooded through her, emotions swirled inside her chest. She couldn't explain how much she had missed this place, her home. For the moment, she was able to forget that she was being taken back as a prisoner, that Evil leaders ruled the Clans. She just saw her home as she had seen it on the first days when she came to live here.

She shot an excited glance over to her mentor, where Halestorm was being thrust in by another cat. Her yellow eyes were alight in joy and ecstasy, but the glare that was returned from Halestorm, killed her happiness. The dreadfulness of the situation flooded back into her, and she felt encased once more in seclusion. Surely if Ashennight had exiled them, she had meant for them not to return, what would that mean for them now that they were back?

She was pushed towards the Highbranch, the place where the leaders always made their announcements from, ceremonies or whatever. Now, the familiar sight looked dreadful and ominous. She watched as a dark shape surged forwards and leapt into the tree. The dark gray leader looked down menacingly with her fiery amber gaze. A chill ran along the Angoras spine as she met the gaze of the evil leader.

As an apprentice, Smokeblossom had never been around Ashennight that much, but she knew her brother had been. She always assumed they had a relationship going, but apparently, he was just a follower of her plans all along, which explained Rusticash’s early warrior ceremony. But right now, what ever had happened in the past, didn't matter. What mattered now was that she stayed safe, and not get murdered in the Evil world she had been thrust back into.

**goddess of ducks** · #7 February 23rd, 2018, 01:30 PM

Cliffheart still could not believe he had done that. What had he been thinking? Why in all of Starclan, had he spoken up, voiced his opinion, in his situation? And especially to the leader they had come to knock from leadership? Out of every cat here, he had spoken out against Singenight; and now he was facing most certain death. Starclan forgive me and accept me… He thought fearfully.

As he pushed his way to the front, Cliffheart gave a comforting smile to the she cat. He wanted to say something cocky, like ‘You're Welcome for saving your life.’ But he couldn't force himself to, not with the death sentence he had just gave himself. The dust colored warrior gazed into the cold, unwelcoming yellow eyes of the Savannah cat.

“Did you just challenge me?” Singenight hissed.

Cliffheart had to speak up. He had to serve his Clan, and if that meant giving up his malformed body to save that of a perfectly abled warrior, then he would do his duty. He would protect and serve his Clan. “Guess so.” He replied coolly.

“What a piece of fox dung. You can't even walk fluently. See? Look at his leg Sorrelskip. I can't fight this, it would be unfair. Bring that she cat back.” He sneered. The tall tom snickered as he gazed at the Skyclan Warriors twisted leg and paw. With his laugh, several other cats within the gathered crowd submitted their forced laughs as well.

Cliffheart was enraged. This was what bothered him most, being thought less of because of his malformed paw. He bared his teeth and snarled at the leader. “Well if I'm a piece of fox dung and we’re just a nuisance here, kill me, one less cat to feed, right?” He remarked.

Singenight thought for a moment, his yellow eyes sliding over the Warriors frame, as if thinking what the best way to kill him would be. Finally coming to a conclusion, he raised a law and beckoned the dusty warrior forwards. “Alright then, if this is what you truly want.” He replied, his voice void of emotion.

Cliffheart gave a reassuring smile to Scorchedpetal who was now standing by, shocked by the events unfolding before her. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but nothing came out. Instead, he forced his body forwards, his legs stiff in aging ear. How dare this cat just mock him for being malformed? He hadn't even cinsidered the muscular frame, powerful three legs and claws. Cliffheart was blinded, blinded by rage. He hated this. It seemed every cat believed that he could not be like others, that he wasn't as good as everyone else, all because he had a twisted paw. He grunted, knowing that he could prove himself, that he could be worthy, or die trying. With a final decision, he launched himself forwards at an incredible speed. He rammed straight into the leaders chest, sending him toppling backwards. He jumped atop him and spat in his face.

Cliffheart could tell the leader was surprised by the force of his charge, but it didn't last long. The leader quickly recovered, kicking his hind legs and battering the Skyclan cats underbelly. With a howl of pain, he jumped away, but razor sharp, curled claws dug into his twisted paw and he was pulled back down to the ground.

Singenight was now on top of him, smiling maliciously down into his face. He leaned in close and whispered in the toms ear. “I must say, I'm quite surprised by your strength, but I must end you now.” He said, his voice ringing with a eerie calmness. Singenight unhooked one of his paws from the Warriors fur, much to Cliffheart's agony, and sheathed all but one long gleaming claw. Cliffheart's wild, fearful gaze landed on the claw and Singenight moved his paw down, ready to rake it slowly and painfully along his belly. Cliffheart struggled and every time, the claws pulled at his flesh. The end was coming, and he knew it. But would anyone want him in Starclan? No one seemed to want him here, why should it be different there?

As the sharp blade entered his chest, right near his front legs, Cliffheart yowled out in pain. He had never experienced pain like this before, not even like the time he had tried to untwist his leg by sitting two stones on his leg, crushing it into place as he turned his body around, trying to make it perfect. The claw kept slicing, slowly and surely, he felt warm liquid run over his flank. Then he heard a faint noise of a cat, crying out. But he couldn't tell who or where it was coming from. Darkness creeped around the edge of his fading vision, and he welcomed the darkness, ready to leave the world behind.

Storkpaw sat in the clearing, next to the nursery. His best friend Owlkit sat to his side. Together the two watched the clearing, where Ratnight and his deputy where addressing the Skyclan cats. For the young Bengal, today had been rather eventful. For him, he had just found out that the Clans were indeed in dire need of a saving force, and that there was a completely unknown Clan that lived in ways that were almost identical to theirs, that no cat had even heard of!

As the two cats watched as Ratnight flicked his tail in dismissal, a few cats pulled away from the group, Thunderclan Darkforest supporters. They moved to the edge of the clearing and he recognized a few of them, Fennelnose and Marshfire. He watched as the two Warriors sat near the Skyclan cats, watching them with scrutinizing gazes. Then, he watched as a small group of Skyclanners sat together, conversing.

The white and black to, motioned to Owlkit, motioning for them to move closer to listen. The two crept across the clearing, trying to act as natural as possible, as to not get caught being suspicious. They made it and we're now beside the Warriors den and were close enough to catch the conversation.

“…go out on a hunting patrol. Then we can attack the ones guarding us and get out. From there we can grab the rest of hHe Clan back home and come back to save the others.”

Storkpaw could tell by the overly eager and forced maturity tone of the voice, it was the apprentice he had spoken to earlier, Chirppaw. But the blue gray Tim who answered her was unknown to him.

“But what will we do without both Auroraflame and Grousestar to guide us? We would need to elect a new leader, but something tells me, none of us would be up for a journey back here, not after the battles and the trek back. The others would be lost without us too. It just…it wouldn't work.” He mewed in a defeated tone.

Storkpaw felt bad. He could hear the desperation in the apprentices mew, and the depression in the older tom’s. He wanted to help them, but he had no clue how to start, nor how to do it without getting accused of conspiring with the enemy. He swept his blue gaze around the clearing, checking to see if the cats on guard were paying him attention. He stepped forwards, ready to address the Skyclan cat when he felt Owlkit stiffen beside him. He felt her tail tug on his hind leg and he turned in time to see Fennelnose coming up to them.

The creamy orange warrior was approaching them, a suspicious look in their eye. Giving the two young cats a small frown they asked, “What are you doing over here? Certainly not conversing with the captives?” They stated, a challenging tinge in their voice.

Storkpaw gave a shrug. “Not really, more like spying on them, see what they're saying. Owlkit and I are just trying to enteric train ourselves. ‘Cause y’know, Ratnight hasn't been getting patrols arranged much since their arrival and I have not done much training either.” He said returning an even gaze, never faltering.

“I don't care, I don't want to really listen to your sob story. But we do need food. Might as well put these fur lumps to use.” They stated before turning to the Skyckan cats. “Eh you there, blue cat, and the young one. Come you're going hunting with us. Storkpaw you can come too. Go grab another warrior as well.” The commanded.

Storkpaw gave a nod, and cast a sorrowful glance to Owlkit, who was frowning and heading back to the nursery. He couldn't wait for her to be an apprentice, it would be so much easier in the both of them, for multiple reasons. He turned away to grab another warrior, but found himself face to face with a mottled she cat, Twitefall. The she cat was wearing a daring smile, one that he assumed was her heading over to ask to be on the hunting patrol. He said nothing, knowing the warrior was not very outgoing in speech, but instead nodded and made his way back to Fennelnose.

“I recruited Twitefall, if that's alright with you Fennelnose.” The apprentice mewed quietly. Making Fennelnose mad now would end in disastrous results now, he had yo please the Warriors and there was no cat he could trust his hatred of the Evil ones to, except for Owlkit.

“Alright then, I'll lead, Storkpaw you scout, Twitefall make sure those two don't trail behind and wander off.” He ordered, taking command rather easily. Storkpaw watched as the warrior led the small patrol out of the a Clan, and he scampered in happily. This could be his chance to get to know the Skyclan cats more, maybe even help them plot their escape

**goddess of ducks** · #8 February 23rd, 2018, 01:35 PM

Singenight smiled menacingly. He watched as Bucknight lead the way, two Warriors dragging Halestorm along between them. He gave a curt nod to the a Riverclan leader and turned around. He was standing in the open, slightly hilly area, the terrain around him looking more like Windclan territory than anything else. He turned, looking into the darkly wooded area before him, adjacent to the ocean, distant in the background. It was the first of the Dusk Syndicate. That's where Bucknight and he had decided to build the cages. He looked back to the brown pelted tabby who was watching as they brought in the first cat who stood as a threat to them.

Singenight turned to watch as well, watching the dappled gray tom, and the marbled red tom thrust the brown and white Maine Coin into the silver metal cage. Singenight had to admit, at least something the Twolegs had made had proven itself useful. And besides, as long as you were on the outside, the latches were fairly easy to open. Sometimes it took two cats to unlock it, but it didn't matter.

Singenight, accompanied occasionally by Bucknight, had brought his Warriors here to begin building. With some assistance from his friends in the Syndicate, he had been able to gather all the cages they would need. After that, Singenight had had his cats did burrows to place the cages in. Sure he wanted them kept away, but he didn't want his Warriors to be bothered with bringing them water due to the burning sun light that would scorch their pelts off. He was ruthless but he wasn't that cruel.

A sound of soft paw steps sounded behind him, and he turned, seeing his closest ally from the Syndicate, Hannibal. At the sight of the sleek, charcoal colored tom, Singenight’s immediate reaction was to dip his head respectfully. He remembered very clearly, the first time he had met Hannibal, trying to recruit him for his cause. They had met in the territory, and Hannibal had agreed to help, only if he received respect. Hannibal, himself was very menacing and eerie to look at, something about his orange gaze. It was a rich Amber that made any cat feel like he could see your very soul. If you were on his bad side, it would be pure torture to even look at him, so Singenight was always happy to see Hannibal around and in a decent mood. “Come to watch the festivities Hannibal?” Singenight asked, his tone calm and joking in a slight bit.

Hannibal wasn't amused with it, he only kept his deep Amber gaze fixated on the Shadowclan toms thrusting Halestorm into the cage. “Not necessarily.” He replied simply.

Singenight wasn't in the mood for small talk, hopefully his Warriors would be here with his problem cats soon. He had left the two in the care of his Warriors, and had come before the, to see the final preparations through. He was pleased as well, when the cage was locked and Halestorm rested safely inside. If the leaders could rid the Clans of all the cats that stood a chance to stop them, there would be nothing left to stop them. They would have their reign, their kingship. The forest would be solely theirs.

Just at that moment, Singenight caught a smell of fish, and it wasn't coming from Bucknight standing across the other side of the small dip. Three shadowed figured were trotting across the moorland towards them. All Singenight could tell was that they were Riverclan, the fishy scent explained that all too well. The Savannah turned to the brown tabby, who was already checking the air as the breeze blew the scents toward them.

Bucknight answered after just a moment. “It's my Warriors, bring the Skyclan leader.” He remarked, blue eyes glazing over with their usual coldness.

Singenight nodded and stood where he was, waiting for them to arrive. Soon they did, the three tom cats rising over the last bit of hill and making their way down to them. There was a alabaster and brown tom, accompanied by a very pale cream tom, and between them was squished a very handsome brown tabby, resembling somewhat of Bucknight, although his eyes. The cats eyes, unlike Bucknights who were a cold, icy blue, were bright vibrant and focused green, like the trees of Thunderclan during new leaf. That had to be Grousestar, the ex-leader of Skyclan.

The tom seemed unashamed as he was being walked to the cages, he seemed to hold his head high and take it in stride. He didn't seem to be struggling, or at least from what Singenight could tell. He glanced sideways at Hannibal, who had his fiery orange gaze and fixed on the leader as well. Singenight personally had never been too close to Grousestar, but he seemed like a respected cat, to bad he was fighting for the wrong cause.

The tan and black spotted cat watched as the two Shadowclan Warriors helped open the cage for the leader. They let him cross inside, and he went, mouth clamped shut, face expressionless. Singenight was impressed, watching him take it with so much dignity. Now all they were waiting on were his Warriors to arrive, as none of the troublesome cats had been handed to a Thunderclan. All they had to do was wait, and for dignity purposes, Singenight wished they would make like a Windclan and get here quickly.

The Abyssinian tom was thrust forwards by two strange cats, a caramel brown tom and a sleet gray tom, they pressed firmly against him, and it almost helped as he limped along, still sort of weak and painful. He pressed onwards though, proving that he was strong and capable. He wasn't going to let himself be seen as weak in front of these Starclan hating cats.

As they pressed on, leaving the Clan behind, he managed to glance back, seeing his mate, Scorchedpetal looking longingly after him. He noted painfully her extended and swollen belly. Would he even get to see his kits? Or would they grow up not knowing they had a father, a tom cat who loved them even before they entered the territory. He sighed as he was nudged sharply by the light gray tom, forcing his to look ahead. He let himself stumble a little, almost falling forwards. He fell to the ground, and managed to look back at her one last time and mouthed ‘I love you all.’ Before he has thrust back to his paws and forced to move on. He sighed. He didn't want to leave them, but he knew he couldn't escape. He was too slow, his twisted leg would slow him down.

It wasn't long before they came to the site, near Seastones, where the other cats were gathered. Singenight greeted the two Warriors with a curt nod, but a worried gaze was with him. “Where’s Harechaser and Amberflare with the deputy?”

“Still getting her. We knew he was weaker so we were able to grab him quickly. The deputy out up more of a fight than he did.” The brown and tan marked tom answered.

“Very well then Caramelblood. You and Sleetfall did well. Hold him there and I will go to assist the other two in getting her-“ he was cut off by the sounds of thrumming paws cresting the hill. Cliffheart was able to twist his neck and see the commotion, accompanied now by the sound of frantic yowls.

The sight that Cliffheart was able to view was three cats tearing over the hill, tails streaming out behind them. In the lead was a solid black she cat, followed by two lean cats, a tan and brown one and a orange tabby. Cliffheart instantly recognized the black cat to be Auroraflame. She had broken free, now she was running for freedom. He couldn't hold back a cry of joy to her as he watched her race by, heading for some other forest, away from the Clans. She would be able to get back and rally the rest of the Clan, saving them.

He had thought too soon. In an instant, Sleetfall cracked him upside the head with a paw, and thrust him to the ground. The two Warriors who had brought him here went tearing off after the deputy as well, trailing behind the first two. It was then that another cat joined them, the large Savannah cat. He watched Singenight go flying after her, his long sturdy limbs carrying his faster and farther with each stride. Cliffheart watched from the ground as he caught up. She was only a tree length from the first, a guaranteed escape. Singenight was faster though, he gave an extra spring, launching himself forwards, right onto her back, tackling her to the ground. He could hear the echo of her cry from where he laid. He winced, feeling her pain, and feeling hopeless. She had almost made it, but to no avail.

The two cats tumbled quite some distance before Singenight pinned her to the ground, most likely cursing at her and giving her some sort of injury. The large framed leader stepped off her as the four Warriors came to his aid and lifted her up, biting her scruff and tail to keep her from running. The small band of cats made their way back over to the area where two Shadowclan Warriors stood, beside two a Riverclan Warriors and their leader. Auroraflame, as she grew closer, was heaving and panting, Cliffheart could see that clearly. He gave her a weak smile, but nothing was returned. Her ice blue eyes were dull, saddened, hopeless, like how he felt. She had been so close to getting away, so close.

The four Windclan Warriors had to work against her to thrust her in the cage, but managed and slammed the door, narrowly missing her tail. The two Riverclan Warriors padded to him, lifted him up and forced him to the cage. He saw now, the small cage sunk into the earth for support, the small, shade less cage. Scared now, realizing in full capacity what was most likely going to happen to him, he resisted. He ousted and pulled against them, and the two Shadowclan Warriors same to help while Caramelblood assisted in opening the gate. With a kick to his bad leg from some cat, he collapsed and they dragged him in and shut the door. Trapped. Him and the High Ranks. They were here, right now, it looked like they would die here

and that's all I did before I forgot lost interest >.<

**goddess of ducks** · #9 March 1st, 2018, 10:44 PM

this next piece is something I literally just wrote because I thought it was a cool idea and I was really inspired for some reason? then again I just wrote this and it’s 11:45pm so there’s no guarantee how good of a quality it is.

There once was an isle of immortals. These immortals had chosen to stay young their entire lives. Their cunning persuasiveness and youthful looks fooled many. These boys lived in their own world, one far away from that of the mortals. Though they had built their pathway between the worlds. For sometimes the boys would choose to leave, or they would be killed. These immortals could not die or sickness or old age like mortals. The only way for them to die is to be punctured through their heart. Some of the boys died, for their were resistance forces that appeared every few decades. Or some merely left to find their own realms to begin. So the chief had to find more boys to live in his domain. That’s why he had the link. He had the link for the sole purpose of flying to the mortal world. There he would steal the kids from their beds. He would pull them away with promises of great adventures and places. With magic and treasures to be found, fights to be won, and victories to be had. That’s what enticed the boys to come with him. Rarely was he ever refused, for the chief was cunning and sly like a fox.
The chief always made sure to pr nose more than he could offer. Sure he could offer it for some time, but eventually he fell short on his promise. The kids would want to go back. They would miss their mothers and fathers. They would miss all their friends, but the chief promised that they would much rather enjoy his isle. He told them once even that there was no way for them to return. Once an immortal always immortal. There would be no more days with their family. They would have to watch their loved ones, their friends and family, everyone die. Over and over and over again it would happen because they could not die. Though they never knew that there truly was a way back to reality. The chief was greedy. He didn’t want the boys to leave. He wanted to establish his empire. They were his to subdue. The boys were under his rules and they worshipped him and praised him like a god for the things he had done for them. The chief never thought anything about it. He slipped into a phase where he grew lax. He knew he had the boys in his control. He knew that they would be loyal to him. But he was naive and wrong. For there was one boy that held onto the prospect of finding his way home, to see his mother and cherish her through her life. Even if he would have to watch her die, he would rather do that than let her live without knowing he was okay.
The boy figured it out one night. He slipped into the Chiefs room and grabbed his flight source. He sprinkled it on himself and placed it back like nothing had happened. The boy left without a trace of where he was going and he sailed back home to his mother. Though when the boy got back he discovered that his mother had already fallen ill. She was dying already and he hadn’t been back but four days before she was gone. Though his mother had explained to him, that it had been twenty years since the night he disappeared. That was the odd thing, it had only been a week on the island. He didn’t know how it worked or what would have to change, but he needed to think of something. And he had all the time int he world to think of it. He wasn’t getting any younger, so he spent his days in the mortal world. He sat and plotted the downfall of the chief that had stolen him from his mother. This go what the boy didn’t notice until years later was that the immortal magic of the chief didn’t affect him here. He was growing older. He was older. He didn’t pay attention it it, much like you don’t realize how much you grow in height over the years. But he was in his early twenties. He was tall and dashing, a dark colored mustache forced on his upper lip. He had the slight shadow of a beard beginning to fill in his long pointed chin. The boy, now a man was into the profession of ship building. That was where he made his living.
He did multiple duties, whether it was building an actual ship, or if he was playing on of the crew in someone’s boat for pay. He was a jack of all trades when it came to the ship industry. The man even found himself a wife. He didn’t fear having to watch her die again, for he was like a mortal now. He was agin normally. He took his wife and the two had a son. They treasured their son above all else. They did everything for him. They gave their life savings for him to go to a higher school. They wanted the best for him and were more than willing to give their all. Though the man had forgotten about his childhood. It wasn’t until one evening where he heard his son talking in his room to something. When he went in to go see, his son was gone. The only thing left was a trace of the yellow flying dust and the shadow of the chief slipping out the window. The man knew exactly who it was and he knew he would have to go after his son. He swiped up the dust he could and swept it into a container. He ran down stairs to collect his ship wear. He swung the velvety jacket over his arms and grabbed his hat as he rushed out the door. He ran to the docs, the feather in his hat tempting to blow away. He swung into the deck of his ship and pulled the bottle of flying dust from his pocket. He uncapped the bottle and sprinkled it over his ship. There wasn’t a lot so he knew he wouldn’t be able to go fast. He wouldn’t be able to stay up long either. But he worked his boat, the Jolly Roger, and flew it into the sky, straight for the stars.
He flew as fast as he could, the sails of the captain opened to catch the wind. He knew how to return to that horrid land. He flew towards the second star and entered the land. He saw the rainbows twinkling brightly over the whole island. He could see the rocks at the lagoon where the mermaids played. He looked to the other side and saw smoke rising from the teepee tents. It was all just as he remembered. And despite the bright and friendly appearance, the Captain knew this was a place of horrors. He would do anything to get his son back. He had to find Peter and end this rule of tyranny. Captain Hook made sure that he would be the one to set Neverland free from the evil demon known as Peter Pan.

**goddess of ducks** · #10 August 23rd, 2018, 06:17 PM

so yea this is my main character in another place. he's a half-blood that attends camp half blood and is the cabin counselor for demeter there. but yeah this is a cross over with the maze runner series so yeet

It was all the campers could do to keep the Flare at bay. They were in their magical boundary, safe inside camp. The Gods seemed to be protecting them for once. The virus floated around outside their world. Without their magical boundary they would have gotten the same illness. Savage and deadly heats would ravage their camp and the half blood safe haven would be no more than sun scorched waste.

But it seemed the gods couldn’t protect them forever. Just the other day, a Nike friend if Vances fell ill with the Flare, dark purple black lines of poison running over his skin. Poor Singe couldn’t stand when he found out. He sought out Chiron only to be forced out of the barrier. He didn’t know what had happened to the poor boy now and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go sit and have a chat with him.

You see the Flare eats away at your mind. It consumes your sanity and devours your memory. You loose your personality and memories of friends and family to a disease that turns you into a decaying monster. There’s no cure. There no stopping it. It just happens and all we can do is try to keep our distance.

Singe wasn’t the first though. He was one of many. Some had been helped out and put to direct death. Others forced outside to go. Luckily he was the first of my friends. And nothing had happened in Vances cabin.

The sound of war horns woke the boy. Vance shot yo from his bed and looked around to see his brothers waking around him. He sat and listened to the sounds. One horn. And a second. A pause. He sighed. That was good. Two horns, that meant someone was being pushed out. He shouldn’t be sighing over that but he didn’t have long. The next thing made his breathe stop. A long horn sounded, ringing out over the demigod camp. A sinking feeling clutched at his chest. The third horn meant bad things. They’d gotten in. He jumped to his feet, running for the door. “Demeter kids let’s go!” He yelled, ramming his fist in the door to the girls dorm.

Vance was already moving to the kitchen to grab a chest plate and his dagger. He looked behind him to see some of his siblings stinking sleepily from their beds. He looked out the door. “Get yourself ready to shapeshift or plant travel we gotta move quick. Find the Hades and Hermes kids and stuck with them. I’m flying ahead to find where they are.” Vance turned and rushed out the door, immediately shifting into a falcon. He took off into the air and soared upwards to look down upon the camp. He saw several groups of people in the cabin clearing, but it was up near Thalia’s Pine that he saw where they were coming in. The Cranks, most past the Gone, stumble ran through the barrier. They piled in quick and made their way for anything. They would reach the Big House first, maybe the arts and crafts building. He folded his wings up against him and fell towards the ground. He unfolded them, pulling to a harsh stop in front of his siblings and a few other kids gathered in their group.

“The cranks are here. Coming in near Half Blood Hill. The Athens Ares and Nike group is on their way now. They’re the closest. Demeter kids who flower travel, grab a friend or two and go to the Big House. We’ll reconvene there. The rest of you come on.” Vance said stepping back slowly to watch as his siblings took another camper by the arm and enveloped themselves in the ground. Among those that were left was Rose, Kyle’s sister and some Hermes girl. There were about eight in total left and Vance took off at a run to lead them.

He ran towards the Bug House, the closer he got, the louder the haunting screams of the Cranks became. An ear piercing wail sounded over the grounds, causing Vance to shudder. He looked around spotting some other Counselors, like Adison from Hermes, Grayson from Poseidon and Luka from Hades. He gave a nod to them and gathered his siblings around him. “We need to try to keep them contained. Because we can manipulate earth we need to try and keep them from getting all over camp. Don’t let them get on you.” He looked them in the eyes and gave a nod, leading them to the sound of daunting noises.

The scene that beheld them as they came around the house was messy in the least. The Cranks were widespread and there was a lot of them. They were practically on the house now, and everywhere the Hyperion saw he could see campers locked in battle. He charged, pulling his dagger from his pocket heading for the Cranks. The stench from the creatures was strong and overwhelming, he could hear the sound of dry heaving and barfing around the clearing as campers lost their dinner from the previous night to the acrid stench.

It wasn’t long before a Crank spotted the teenager. The noseless decaying creature screamed at him, a madness to it as it came at him. He raised his blade at the ready and ran, ducking low to avoid its blistered arms.

The Crank sailed over him, and received a blow to the side, rotting blood spewed from his side. His wild mad eyes locked with the teenager as he came.

But Vance was busy. He’d attracted the attention of two more Cranks, having finished their victim. The poor kid was a bloody and ragged heap in the ground and Vance couldn’t even tell who it was. He just prayed it wasn’t someone he knew.

He sliced at the two, and summoned forth plants that wrapped their way around their legs. They stumbled forwards and slammed against the ground with agonized wails and sickening creaks. Vance gave a brief smile, pretty cocky for the time. But he was caught off guard as two rotten arms grabbed him tightly. They wrapped around him, the old skin boiled and rotten, a few fingers missing from the hands.

A yell of fear escaped Vance as he kicked against the thing. He unbalanced the monster, but it only fell forwards on top of him. The ugly thing clawed at his orange shirt, tearing it with disgusting fingernails, full of mild and rot and virus.

Agonizing wails came from the both of them, the Cranks from pleasure of finding something to get a hold of, and Vance’s from pure pain and fear. A
sounded and the weight was kicked off his back. Vance rolled over to see the red haired Hades girl, Rose. She held a long black sword that she brandished carefully. Vance looked around briefly, noticing Aster and Summer locked una. Battle against a Crank together.

Rose has reached a hand out, and Vance accepted, getting pulled to his feet. His back was sweltering in pain but he was fine. He couldn’t manage a thank you before Rose headed off again.

Vance ran over to Delilah, who was dealing with two Cranks of her own. She was so new to camp he couldn’t let something happen to her. He arrived just in time to catch a blow that would have landed in her back. He deflected the blow and cut a deep gash into the ladies arm. She let out a wail and fell backwards. Vance then took his dagger and threw it down into the woman’s chest. She went Still and silent. He paused a moment and then grabbed his dagger back, the Crank in question dead.

The fighting dragged on. The morning had just broken when the horns had sounded over the camp. Here they were nearing 10:00. They had retreated. There were too many Cranks. They hid back in the depths of the forest, the campers left holding their weapons and panting. The echoes of the Cranks was nearby, each person on nerve. Vance couldn’t tell who was left. He sat against a tree, leaning against it, his body aching.

He closed his eyes for a moment and felt himself stand. He wanted to go. Further away from everyone else. To take a break. When he opened them again he was alone. The campers were back a little ways through the trees. Who was left? Was Cleo there? Aster? Ana? Summer? What about um… oh never mind. He couldn’t remember. He closed his eyes again. He was tired. A distant sound of a hollow screech filled the air. It sounded far off. He heard footsteps with an uneven beat as they ran in the forest floor. He blinked open again to find himself running, his mouth hanging open. He stopped.

Vance looked down at his skin, boiling blisters covering his arms. Black and plum veins of poison courses his skin. His back was on fire from where the Crank has attacked him earlier.
He closed his eyes to think. To pause. To wait.

He felt his body running again. It wasn’t someone around him. He realized that now. It was the virus, the madness making him move. He couldn’t control himself. He fought his way to the surface. By the time he got to the surface he was running too fast to stop quick. The campers were in front of him. He was headed for some one. He thought they looked familiar.

He heard a sound, distant and panicked. “Is that Vance?”

He looked towards the sound of the noise and recognized Josie, his one legged sibling. He wanted to cry out, tell her to run. He could feel the virus quickly destroying him.
From the outside his eyes were going a dark plum instead of the white sclera. Deep purple circles encompasses his eyes. The same boils and poisonous looking veins ran over his face and sweat drenched his brown hair, plastering it to his head.

The wreck of a person, who probably couldn’t be called person at this point glared at the girl who should be his sister. Now all he could do was watch as his actions unfolded before him. He couldn’t do anything to stop it as he lurched forwards to attack Josie.

No. He couldn’t. He pushed his way to the top and gained control. For a moment those eyes held the brown waters of the Cabin Counselor as he apologetically and fearfully backed away. The more space the less harm.

He couldn’t hold on for long. He turned his face away, ready to get himself to the woods. But Cleo was there. His heart sank. She was the last person he wanted to see. If he was this monster what if he attacked her. He could see it in her eyes. She knew what he was. She was crying already, looking over his boils and burns. The disease rotted his skin quickly as he hunched over and stood before her.

She looked fine. Unhurt and human. She wasn’t infected. She was okay. And that was all he had ever wanted for her. But she wasn’t safe. Not with him around. He could feel his grip loosening o his hood over this deathly disease. “Cleo you’ve always helped me. Always saved me. Please do it…” he growled, his voice high pitched and broken. “Please kill this monster. It’s not me Cleo and it’s going to kill you.” He looked pleadingly at her, begging for it. He couldn’t hurt her. Even if he wasn’t in control he couldn’t stand behind, trapped to watch his monster tear her apart.

“Save yourself from me please.”

And he lost his grip. He watched as his body jerked wildly, screeched madly. The tears rolled down Cleos face so strongly he broke for her. He wanted to stop and he fought to do it, scared he would be on top of her before she could move out of the way. He heard the ear bursting screech from his own mouth, the one that had kept him up with nightmares. His body lurched towards Cleo, the monster wanting her almost as badly as Vance had. He tried to close his eyes, he couldn’t watch. But he had to. He couldn’t close his eyes unless the monster let him.

The stupid virus made him suffer more. He didn’t care about the pain. He couldn’t bear the pain of himself being the thing that hurt her. He watched as she was rammed out of the way. A red haired figure pulled her backwards. He could only hear the distant and desperate screams of his girlfriend as she was dragged away. The red in her eyes as she cried, the streams flowing down her cheeks. She’d been pulled away. He couldn’t hurt her.

But the monster made him go after. Someone else grabbed Cleo, he didn’t know who as the red haired girl stepped towards him, sword in hand. Rose said something but he couldn’t hear it. The last thing he heard was the scream of a girl in the distance, the same scream he’d heard for what seemed like hours. He felt the blade through his chest. His own blood running over his clothes. The pain was numbed thanks to the virus. He couldn’t feel anything much. There was an aching sob as he crumpled to the ground. He ster ed across the ground to where Cleo clawed at the person to get to him.

She broke free and landed in the grass right beside him. A distant touch of her fingers in his tattered cheek was a soothing thing.

“Thank you.”

It was the last thing he could manage before he finally let go, savoring her touch for the moment he would see her again down below.