Fracture (Original Art and Writing)

Yowls of protest, hisses of anger, mewls of concern… all these noises filled the camp in a wild cacophony. Russetwolf could hear her clanmates arguing back and forth. Their voices seemed to fill the air, and one thing was abundantly clear; No one was happy.

“She’s too young for the deputy position Stonestar!” Wolfstorm objected. The senior warrior stood tall, his grey pelt bushed out in displeasure and tail lashing from side to side. “She’s hardly more than a kit! You can’t possibly be serious about making her Knollstep’s replacement-“

“Age has little to do with experience Wolfstorm-“ Nightfrost hissed from the entrance of her den, glaring at her half-brother. “You should know that better than anyone-“ The prickly grey tom twitched his ear in response, seeming cowed by the medicine cat’s piercing gaze. He muttered something in a tone too low for anyone to hear before settling back on his haunches. Nightfrost sighed, glancing towards the center of camp. “The real concern is that Dustbelly hasn’t mentored an apprentice yet-“ her glare turns to their leader, standing defiantly on the Stonepile. “Do you have bees in your brain Stonestar? I thought you wiser than that-“

As the scrawny she-cat continued to berate her leader, the conversation continued. Foxpatch lifted her narrow muzzle, looking uncertain as she spoke. “I-I’m not sure all this arguing will help-“ she meowed, voice cracking slightly. “Knollstep, he… h-he never would’ve wanted us to fight. I’m sure…” her fur rippled along her spine, eyes squeezing shut in grief as her head drooped. The old Deputy had been her father. Her mates pressed in on both sides to comfort her, with Cloudheart murmuring into her ear while Oaksnap gently licked the top of her head. 

“Russetwolf?” Owlcry said softly, his blue eyes round as he wandered over. “He… Stonestar wouldn’t bend the rules just because Dustbelly is his kin, would he? I-I don’t wanna question a leader, but-“

The dark ginger warrior hardly listened as her former apprentice kept speaking. Russetwolf was still in complete disbelief, staring at Dustbelly. She could see the panic in her friend’s eyes, smell the acrid fear-scent rolling off of her in waves. The tabby she-cat was still staring up at her grandfather in shock. She turns her head, giving her old friend a pleading look.

Russetwolf hesitated, almost unwilling to pad her way over. She felt a hardness in her heart, a tightness in her throat. But why? Dustbelly needed her right now. The spotted she-cat shook the shame from her pelt, belly prickling in discomfort. She walked over, sitting beside her friend and curling her tail awkwardly around the other warrior’s own. Russetwolf feels tense as Dustbelly leans over, burying her muzzle into the thick ginger fur of her neck. The lean tabby warrior seems to struggle to breathe as panic overtakes her, and Russetwolf instinctively turns to give her friend’s cheek a few gentle licks.

Yet even as she soothed her companion, Russetwolf felt something burn within the depths of her chest, threatening to suffocate her. It was an unpleasant feeling… twisting around her heart and leaving the taste of bile on her tongue.

The young warrior could feel it settle into her very bones, making her clench her jaw. She was startled to realize she agreed with the complaints of her clanmates. Dustbelly *wasn’t* qualified to be Deputy, and she’d never even wanted the position in the first place! The lanky she-cat had turned into a miserable, shaking lump of fur in response to it all. Wasn’t that reason enough to pick someone else? The others were all right. Dustbelly was inexperienced, unqualified, and now causing arguments when the clan should’ve been taking the time to mourn Knollstep. The memory of his death would be soured by this moment, and all because Stonestar was choosing kin over his clan. Didn’t Chasmclan deserve better?

Russetwolf rested her chin atop Dustbelly’s head, feeling the young warrior’s breath heaving frantically into her neck fur. Yet, even as she sat there comforting the newly-appointed Deputy… a single thought was enough to make her curl her claws into the dirt beneath her paws.

Yowls of protest, hisses of anger, mewls of concern… all these noises filled the camp in a wild cacophony. Russetwolf could hear her clanmates arguing back and forth. Their voices seemed to fill the air, and one thing was abundantly clear; No one was happy.

“She’s too young for the deputy position Stonestar!” Wolfstorm objected. The senior warrior stood tall, his grey pelt bushed out in displeasure and tail lashing from side to side. “She’s hardly more than a kit! You can’t possibly be serious about making her Knollstep’s replacement-“

“Age has little to do with experience Wolfstorm-“ Nightfrost hissed from the entrance of her den, glaring at her half-brother. “You should know that better than anyone-“ The prickly grey tom twitched his ear in response, seeming cowed by the medicine cat’s piercing gaze. He muttered something in a tone too low for anyone to hear before settling back on his haunches. Nightfrost sighed, glancing towards the center of camp. “The real concern is that Dustbelly hasn’t mentored an apprentice yet-“ her glare turns to their leader, standing defiantly on the Stonepile. “Do you have bees in your brain Stonestar? I thought you wiser than that-“

As the scrawny she-cat continued to berate her leader, the conversation continued. Foxpatch lifted her narrow muzzle, looking uncertain as she spoke. “I-I’m not sure all this arguing will help-“ she meowed, voice cracking slightly. “Knollstep, he… h-he never would’ve wanted us to fight. I’m sure…” her fur rippled along her spine, eyes squeezing shut in grief as her head drooped. The old Deputy had been her father. Her mates pressed in on both sides to comfort her, with Cloudheart murmuring into her ear while Oaksnap gently licked the top of her head. 

“Russetwolf?” Owlcry said softly, his blue eyes round as he wandered over. “He… Stonestar wouldn’t bend the rules just because Dustbelly is his kin, would he? I-I don’t wanna question a leader, but-“

The dark ginger warrior hardly listened as her former apprentice kept speaking. Russetwolf was still in complete disbelief, staring at Dustbelly. She could see the panic in her friend’s eyes, smell the acrid fear-scent rolling off of her in waves. The tabby she-cat was still staring up at her grandfather in shock. She turns her head, giving her old friend a pleading look.

Russetwolf hesitated, almost unwilling to pad her way over. She felt a hardness in her heart, a tightness in her throat. But why? Dustbelly needed her right now. The spotted she-cat shook the shame from her pelt, belly prickling in discomfort. She walked over, sitting beside her friend and curling her tail awkwardly around the other warrior’s own. Russetwolf feels tense as Dustbelly leans over, burying her muzzle into the thick ginger fur of her neck. The lean tabby warrior seems to struggle to breathe as panic overtakes her, and Russetwolf instinctively turns to give her friend’s cheek a few gentle licks.

Yet even as she soothed her companion, Russetwolf felt something burn within the depths of her chest, threatening to suffocate her. It was an unpleasant feeling… twisting around her heart and leaving the taste of bile on her tongue.

Jealousy.

The young warrior could feel it settle into her very bones, making her clench her jaw. She was startled to realize she agreed with the complaints of her clanmates. Dustbelly *wasn’t* qualified to be Deputy, and she’d never even wanted the position in the first place! The lanky she-cat had turned into a miserable, shaking lump of fur in response to it all. Wasn’t that reason enough to pick someone else? The others were all right. Dustbelly was inexperienced, unqualified, and now causing arguments when the clan should’ve been taking the time to mourn Knollstep. The memory of his death would be soured by this moment, and all because Stonestar was choosing kin over his clan. Didn’t Chasmclan deserve better?

Russetwolf rested her chin atop Dustbelly’s head, feeling the young warrior’s breath heaving frantically into her neck fur. Yet, even as she sat there comforting the newly-appointed Deputy… a single thought was enough to make her curl her claws into the dirt beneath her paws.

I would be a better Deputy than Dustbelly…”