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When she saw him for the first time, she had her plan laid out in her head, step by step.
She’d get into his head, tether him to a promise he’d always have to keep, something tucked in his chest that he could never get rid of.
And so she watched with bated breath as he ran across the stones with his brother, trying to ignore the stinging, painful memories abruptly bubbling in her head. She watched as he fell, and watched as he smacked right into one of the stones, painfully jolting his jaw into a nasty position that was sure to be permanent.
Before she knew what was happening, she’d thrown herself right into the water after him. Fighting her own rising panic, she quickly swam towards the kit as if she was floating through air, trying to ignore the panic in his eyes as he clearly saw her. What had he been thinking at that moment? She tried not to think about it, and she certainly tried not to think about how much he looked almost exactly like her tiny son Patchkit, with those same perfect little green eyes.
“Go away!” She could hear like he was speaking, even though he only seemed to be thinking the thought as hard as he could, “I don’t want to come with you!”
She swam closer to the panicking kit, fighting her panic even harder as she spoke to him in the softest voice she could muster.
“Don’t worry, little one,” she soothed him, and she could see in his eyes that he had heard her loud and clear, “It’s not your time yet. You have a great destiny ahead of you.”
As she reached him, she willed everything in herself to become solid for just a moment, just enough to put her head under his tumbling body and push him to the surface, where she could see the shadow of his clanmate moving along in the water. Once the kit had been grabbed, she quickly willed herself intangible again, disappearing from the view of the cats.
She meant to return to her eternal damnation after that, vowing to herself that she would create the perfect warrior for her own personal gain.
But that wasn’t what happened.
Instead she followed after the kit and the warrior who had saved him, alongside the kit’s brother. She sat with him when he was brought into the Medicine Cat’s den, ignoring the glance she got from the Medicine Cat herself. Momentary rage flooded into her pelt as the kit’s mother yelled about his face, screaming in her mind that she was lucky that her kit had survived the rushing river, a mercy not granted to the angry tortoiseshell’s own precious kits. She watched as the kit’s mother was ushered away, and she watched as the Medicine Cat worked on the poor kit, giving him an herb mixture to drink. Only when the kit closed his eyes did she then turn and return to the place she had been damned to.
She found herself in that den more than she meant to, telling herself it was just simply to make sure her protege was actually going to survive his ordeal. Every time his mother returned, which was safe to say less than she should’ve, the tortie felt rage in her pelt all over again, cursing the she-cat for being so ungrateful that her son had actually survived the river. She never showed herself, but she hoped the glares she gave would drive fear into the heart of that monster-if she even had one, that was.
The day he was declared better, she couldn’t help but be overjoyed at the kit she’d hate to admit she’d become attached to. His mother was still not interested, and the tortie couldn’t help but be enraged again, but the little kit was better, and she followed after him as he ran into the sunshine.
At least his father was happy to see him, she assured herself. Even though she should’ve hated the kit’s father, she couldn’t help but smile warmly upon seeing him dote over his kit being outside of the Medicine Den.
That’s about when the kit seemed to notice everyone staring at his face, and at once the tortie became horrified when he began to run straight for the reed bed in camp. She quickly followed after him alongside his brother, watching as he stared down into the water and questioned what had happened. His brother did his best to comfort him, but she could see clearly that it’d be hard to comfort him after the way the incident had unfortunately disfigured his face. She watched as he struggled to eat, then watched as his brother took him to a quiet place where he could try to eat in peace. Offering him privacy as well, she sat with her back to him, glaring at any cats who happened to look near the entrance to the spot, mentally challenging them to try to sneak a peek.
She followed him after that again, quietly entering the nursery with his brother. The kits had set up a “training corner”, apparently, but something caught her eyes before she could look at it in depth.
A nest, set aside from the others. At once, she became aware of what it was for, and when the kit’s mother entered into the den, she was already growling and hissing at her, though she decided to not reveal herself lest she cause some grand issue. She just hoped that her point would get across as the kit questioned the nest and his mother revealed exactly what the tortie was thinking-the nest was for him, and he would sleep away from his mother and his brother. She didn’t understand how the she-cat could be so…. ungrateful that her son had survived the river.
When she heard the argument-what his ‘mother’ was going to name him, she felt rage threaten to burst. She wanted to will herself solid and tear the she-cat in two, throwing her bloody remains all the way to the same river that had shown her son mercy.
Crookedkit.
They named him Crookedkit.
She could see the numbness in his face, muted terror and shock. Breathing out, she nearly stepped forward to meet him, but instead she held back in the shadows until his eyes suddenly seemed to meet her own. Though it momentarily shocked her, she instead willed as much pity as she could into her gaze, willing it to tell him she was sorry without her actually saying it.
When he accepted his name-that terrible, terrible name-she did admit, she felt the smallest bit of pride.
The night after Crookedkit’s brother became an apprentice, he left the camp.
She trailed frantically after him, watching him cross the territory with purpose. She watched him cross the same stones that had disfigured him, then watched him carefully make his way across Thunderclan’s territory. Rain poured down as he was nearly caught in Windclan by what was clearly a forbidden romance, showing her that the clans never seemed to change. She just hoped if kits came from this that they would end up better than her own. He was then nearly caught again by a Windclan patrol, then again by a monster on the Thunderpath. She followed as he came upon a strange stone shelter, and she watched as he settled down to sleep.
Now was as good of a time as ever.
She entered into his dreams.
She didn’t enjoy the idea of bringing him to a place as dangerous as The Dark Forest, but that was the only place she could speak to him. His brilliant green eyes opened as he stared at his surroundings, then right at her.
“Crookedkit,” she gently called, hating calling him by his given name, “What are you doing?”
“I-I wanted to visit the Moonstone,” Crookedkit bristled, and she quickly moved forwards to wrap her bushy tail around him as he continued, “What is this place?”
“A dream,” she told him, before she quickly added, “Of somewhere you don’t want to go.”
He blinked up at her for a moment, echoing to himself, “a dream…”
“If you wish to speak to me, you don’t have to travel to The Moonstone,” she assured him, “If you need me, you just need to sleep, and then I shall be able to speak with you.”
“So you are a Starclan cat!” he purred, sitting up straight.
It felt like there was a pit in her stomach. He looked so loving, and so hopeful, and so overjoyed, and she just…
She shook her head. Crookedkit stared at her in confusion, and she gently sighed.
“My name is Mapleshade”