Introducing: Mothwing

[mothwingofriverclan]

Mothwing leaves camp at sunrise, wanting to beat the greenleaf heat. Herbs are plentiful this time of year, and Mothwing wants to find a few to take back to camp to teach Frostpaw their scents. She’s glad that she’d found a new apprentice with a connection to StarClan so quickly after Willowshine’s death, if only so that her clanmates wouldn’t bug her. She still doubts that they really need StarClan; it had been Bristlefrost that saved them from the impostor and the Dark Forest, not a bunch of mouse-brained dead cats. Still, Frostpaw was learning her herbs well, which was what really mattered.

Heading for the lakeshore, Mothwing keeps an eye out for borage, and maybe some rosemary. Padding up to the edge, Mothwing takes a look at her reflection. She’s getting old. Her dappled golden fur isn’t as shiny as it once was, and her amber eyes are tired, but she notes with satisfaction that she’s still bigger and stronger than most of her clanmates.

There’s an odd flicker in the lake, and Mothwing instinctively swats at it with her paw--extra fish is always welcome, even in bountiful greenleaf--but it turns out to be a trick of the light. Disappointed, she looks up, and is startled to find herself at a completely different lake. It’s much smaller than her lake, and she can’t see the Gathering island anywhere. Besides, it smells completely different--is it leaf-fall suddenly? She backs up a few steps, the fur on her back raising defensively.

For a moment, she wants to laugh--is this her first ever vision from StarClan? They couldn’t have sent this to her seasons ago, when her position was in question? Then she notices the large twoleg dwelling looming over the lake, and she feels a stupid kind of relief. There are definitely no twoleg dens in StarClan’s hunting grounds, so this isn’t a vision. On the other paw... she has no idea where she is.

“Is any cat here?” she meows as loudly as she dares. Unbeknownst to her, anyone walking by would understand her words, whether they were a cat, a twoleg, or any other person.

Comments

[summerdude]

Magnus hears the rustle, and then sees the cat. And then he hears the cat talk.

"Just an einherji, I'm afraid," he says. So he can still hear animals talk here -- Mr. Alderman's heartsblood hasn't worn off between worlds. "Um, hi there."

[mothwingofriverclan]

Mothwing hisses in surprise. A twoleg that can talk? She backs up cautiously, but he isn't trying to catch her, just looking at her.

"What is an einherji?" she meows. Maybe that's something different than a twoleg, though he looks no different than any twoleg she's ever seen making unreasonable amounts of noise near the river in greenleaf.

[summerdude]

"On of Odin's heroic dead," Magnus says, a little self-consciously. "Um, I guess you could call it a type of human?"

[mothwingofriverclan]

Human... Mothwing has a vague memory of hearing a kittypet or two refer to twolegs that way.

"Heroic dead," she repeats. "So this is tw--human StarClan?" Oh, fox-dung. She had worried that she wouldn't go to StarClan when she died, but she'd thought she might go wherever kittypets went, not a StarClan for a different type of animal entirely.

[summerdude]

"What's StarClan?" Magnus asks, curiously. "Some kind of -- halls of the dead? Most of the people here are alive, I think. Or a funky kind of exception, like me."

[sporesprouter]

Tress, only just approaching the lake as the voice rings out, blinks as soon as she gets close enough to see the source of it.

"Oh!" She approaches carefully but not too closely, making sure to stay as nonthreatening as she can. "I'm afraid you're the first cat I've seen." She frowns a little. "Are you cursed?"

[mothwingofriverclan]

"Maybe," she meows uncertainly, unsettled by being able to understand a second twoleg. "Maybe being able to understand twolegs is some kind of joke StarClan is playing on me." When Dovewing had had her powers, she'd been able to hear from vast distances, and even into StarClan. This could be something similar, though Mothwing was about as far from a prophesied hero as a cat could get.

[sporesprouter]

That was not exactly the kind of cursed she was thinking of, but it does answer her question. "I can't normally understand cats, either, if that helps. But I think it might be something about this place. There are people-- um... twolegs?-- from many different worlds here and we can all understand each other even if we shouldn't."

[mothwingofriverclan]

Oddly, this does calm Mothwing down a little. At least she's not the only one who doesn't entirely understand what's going on. She sits down and tucks her tail around her paws.

"Where is here? Whose territory is this?" she meows curiously.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad has discovered sketching, or, to be more precise, he's discovered a workbook on learning to draw and the idea that this is a learnable skill has been absolutely fascinating. Subsequently, he's also found a sketchpad and a box of charcoal pencils of varying fineness, and since it's a nicer day than the last few have been he's out by the lake trying to commit the phragmites to paper.

He looks up at the sound of the cat. He feels as if he can hear her voice in two ways at the same time, as a mew and as words -- it reminds him of how in his Bible Jesus' words are rendered in red.

But a talking cat seems no more fantastic than a talking dragon, which he's already encountered, so he says, "I think you're the first cat."

[mothwingofriverclan]

This twoleg is scratching at some kind of twoleg object. Good--that means that he doesn't have any hands free if he tried to suddenly grab her.

"So, none of you have kittypets?" she asks. She isn't sure if that would be good or bad news. It might be nice to have another cat around, but if she met one who could talk to their twolegs--she doesn't know what that would be like. Sasha had told her that it was possible to communicate with twolegs, if only in a very basic manner. There definitely weren't any deep conversations.

[onthewillowsthere]

He shakes his head. "Are you a pet?"

[mothwingofriverclan]

"Of course not," Mothwing scoffs. "Do I look like one of those soft kittypets? I'm RiverClan's medicine cat." She unsheathes her claws, tearing at the soft ground a little. "And I trained as a warrior before I became a medicine cat, too, so watch yourself."

[socialjusticedragon]

Temeraire, today, has been fishing in the lake. Sadly, there is not much big enough there to fully satisfy him, but it will do for now. He is currently drying off at the lakeside, sprawled out very similar to a giant black cat. You know, if it looked more draconic and had an impressive set of wings and horns.

He perks up when he hears a new voice, and stills: this newcomer is very small. He should, in that case, not much all too much, and settles his head down on the ground to regard her curiously. "No, I do not think there are any other cats."

[mothwingofriverclan]

Thank goodness, a more sensibly built type of creature. Mothwing approaches the large lizard cautiously, noting his claws and teeth, but also his relaxed posture. He's clearly not prey--no ShadowClan cat would try to hunt this lizard.

"I'm Mothwing," she offers, settling into a crouch. "What's your name? You speak cat very well."

[socialjusticedragon]

Certainly not! He's far too big to eat, and they likely couldn't bite through his scales besides.

He's quite intent on remaining still, it wouldn't do to squash a new friend. "I am Temeraire. Or Lung Tien Xiang, if you like, but Temeraire is easier. And I speak many languages very well. I do not think I have ever spoken to a cat before, you are very small. I will be careful."

[mothwingofriverclan]

Temeraire reminds Mothwing of how Leafpool had described Midnight, the badger who spoke to cats, foxes, and even rabbits. He seems just as mysterious and learned as her, so Mothwing bows her head respectfully.

"Thank you," she meows. "How is the prey running around here?" She hopes it's running well--it seems like Temeraire could eat a whole clan's worth of fresh-kill every day.

[wickedwit]

Claudius has spilled most of his secrets here, but there are still a few he keeps to himself, because they fortunately never come up. One is that, when Claudius is alone, he speaks to animals like people. And not just any people, but social peers and equals. He's seen how ladies with little dogs or ermines or all manner of exotic pets talk to their creatures. They call them thou, cosset and coddle them more than their own children. And Claudius tries to match the register of whoever he's with, but he could never do that with animals, never make it sound affectionate and natural.

So he only speaks to them when no one's watching. Sometimes he'll speak to the birds in the garden. Good morrow, sir. You've a lovely voice. Yes, I know it's not for me -- I'll move on so I don't frighten all the feathered ladies off. Enjoy your courtship.

So when Claudius hears someone call for a cat, and moves down to the lakeside to find one, his first thought is not oh, it the cat who spoke. But because no one else is around, he still indulges himself in a few worlds. “Well, hello, sir — or is it lady? I think someone’s looking for you. You’re the first of your kind I’ve seen here. And quite handsome, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He crouches down, proffering a hand for the creature to sniff. “May I make your acquaintance?”

[mothwingofriverclan]

Mothwing feels an embarrassed warmth creep from her nose to her tail-tip. She thinks maybe the last person to call her beautiful was Leafpool, and she's been dead for seasons.

"Alright, no need to flatter me so much," she mews. "I'm just--Mothwing."

[wickedwit]

Claudius's own face flushes, the tip of his ears red. "You -- ah --" Talk is too obvious to say. Understood is obvious, too, though closer to the reason Claudius is blushing. "Apologies." He pulls his hand back, now mortified by what was meant to be a prelude to petting. "That was rather forward, wasn't it? My name is Claudius. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mothwing."

[mothwingofriverclan]

Mothwing lets out a mrrow of laughter, her own embarrassment fleeing like a water vole into its hole. Claudius reminds her a little of Owlnose right now.

"It's alright," she meows. "I don't normally understand twolegs, either, but this place seems to be crawling with you lot."

[rememberettersberg]

Nightingale is sitting in the doorway of the summer house that has become his office, watching a breeze tease slow ripples out of the glassy surface of the lake. He doesn't hear her speak just yet, but the sight of her makes him smile a little.

"Hello pretty thing" he says, wondering. "Did Shen Qingqiu dream pets into existence here after all?"

[mothwingofriverclan]

"I don't think this is a dream," Mothwing replies. "I'm a real cat, as far as I can tell. My name is Mothwing, and you are?" Greeting twolegs is becoming oddly easy.

[rememberettersberg]

"Goodness me." Nightingale is surprised, but only mildly. "I apologise for greeting you so familiarly, I didn't realise you were a new resident." Hello pretty thing? he thinks to himself, appalled. For God's sake, Thomas.

[mothwingofriverclan]

"It's alright," Mothwing replies. "What's your name?"