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Rosethorn really had to shake this habit of straying into unknown territory, particularly since she could not fight. Still, it was fun to wander, and she had met several interesting cats on her previous escapades. Rosethorn had few issues talking to people, but strangers were especially intriguing to her, especially those who hailed from clans she was unfamiliar with. Soullesspaw from Winterclan had stuck with her even though she hadn't seen her in months.
The cream and gray she-cat was somewhere in the middle of new territory, surrounded by strange scents. She was pretty sure she was not over a border, but close to one. It might be her last chance to get out, with the coming lockdown, so she was hoping something more interesting would happen. Hopefully not too interesting, though- she didn't want to return to camp with a hideous wound or anything. As it was, she was humming something to herself, picking her way carefully through the muddy leaffall woods.
It was unusual for him to be put at this time. He was a specter that moved through dreamlands and darkness, a blight that was blotted out by shadows, but as it was his nightmares were more potent than his hatred of daylight, Phantomfox weaving among the still unfamiliar lands of MoonClan. He avoided anywhere that the trees grew sparse, unwilling to give up his cover at least, even if it was annoying trying to trudge through the mud without getting thorns caught in his coat from his close proximity to the rose bushes. It had been easier to maneuver through the sandy shores and meadows of his hom--
This is your home now. You can never go back there, not after...
But his reverie was interrupted by the sounds of pawsteps even more sloppy than his own, the distinct noise that would be generated from someone who knew even less about this area than he did. Instantly, the MoonClan beast was on high alert, chocolate form lumbering towards the border. He wouldn't recognize her as someone from his past-- the sisters had joined right before the incident that caused him the great grief he lived with-- and so, when he revealed himself, he didn't bother keeping to the shade. In the silver of night, he was a nightmare more terrifying than the ones that chased sleep from his grasp, but in the daylight, with the sun bearing down on him, he was a different type of menace. There was no starshine to soften his snarl in its silvered serenity; his features were raw and pink in the sun's golden grace, the deeply set scars twisting across what may have once been a handsome face. It still could be, if not streaked through by Phantomfox's self loathing and aggression. "Getting a little too close there, honey."
Starclan, that was a scarred tom. Rosethorn stopped short, amber eyes blinking rapidly as she took in the sight. Her sister had a scar, and Rose personally didn't mind other's scars, but it was hard not to be alarmed by the massive wounds that crossed this stranger's body. Only... only he wasn't exactly a stranger, was he? The pretty Garden Keeper couldn't place him yet.
"Don't call me that," Rosethorn said with an eye roll. She didn't mind flirting- she did enough of that herself- but that term was being used derisively in this situation. "You're supposed to guard the border, big brain, not the space on the other side. I can do whatever I want over here."
A memory came back, a distant one, and she suddenly realized where she knew this tom from. "You're from Summerclan, aren't you? Well, you were when I joined. I think. I saw you recovering in the medicine cat den with my sister, but you were a little delirious."
Her declaration might have given him pause, but if Rosethorn expected the revelation to disarm him, she would soon find it had the opposite effect. An auditory snarl interrupted her before she could even finish her statement, Phantomfox's muscle tensing and his claws penetrating into the earth. "And what makes you think that, doll?" She was taunting him for sure-- and two could play that game. He spat the pet name at her like it was poison on his tongue, hoping to illicit a reaction as volatile as his own, something that might justify the impending explosion brewing under his skin.
Rosethorn's eyes narrowed further, already annoyed by this antagonistic cat. "I don't think anymore, I know, because I saw your ugly mug myself!" She snipped in return, long fur fluffing faintly from annoyance. Still, reminded of her lacking physical abilities, she hung back. "And if you think acting like a little pissbaby will scare me off, it won't. Starclan, where am I? Primal Instinct?" Rosethorn did not know much of the other clans, much less the scents associated with them, but she knew of Primal Instinct's reputation. All the other cats she'd met had not been as antagonistic as this tom. "Why does Summerclan make you so angry, anyway?"
How he wanted so badly to ignore the border that shielded her from the onslaught that awaited if they ever did find themselves on neutral ground. But, being so new to MoonClan and given the recent changes in leadership, he was on thin ice that would surely crack if he thought throwing the warrior code to the side and mauling another clan's warrior was a good idea. "Ratstar isn't teaching his members the other clans? Some warrior you are, not knowing your whereabouts." He sneered at her, but then it clicked that perhaps this was because she hadn't been training to be a warrior. The realization registered as a marginal widening of his silver gaze, noting that though her fur was long and mostly disguised her physique, she lacked a muscle definition that came from battle and hunting trainings. "Oh, so you must be a garden keeper, then. No wonder," he snorted in a derogatory manner. Phantomfox in general had nothing against the garden keepers, but he was searching for weak spots, places he could land his blows and put a dent in her armor.
Rosethorn wished more than ever she was a good fighter, so she could smack some sense into this tom. As it was, she merely bristled further. "Yes, I'm a garden keeper," she hissed, staring him down. "Which means if you come over the border and attack me you'll be harming a defenseless cat. Would that make you feel good about yourself, you sicko? You like hurting innocent, defenseless women?" Even though she was beginning to enjoy her work, Phantomfox had succeeded in finding a chink in her armor with that comment.
His eyes narrowed, honing in on the fury he'd ignited in her. "I would never. You should hope to never find yourself in MoonClan territory or else you won't just be an innocent, defenseless little garden keeper. You'll be an innocent, defenseless intruder." By now he was as close to the border as he could get, hovering directly across from her while his tail lashed behind him like an enraged viper. "Or you could test your luck today, kitten. I won't bite-- or maybe I will." Some of that venom evaporated and left behind an empty croon, a sickeningly taunting smile on Phantomfox's sickeningly taunting face.
Rosethorn just rolled her eyes, over the entire encounter. "Get over yourself," she said, some of her own antagonism dissipating in return. "Goodbye and good riddance." With that little quip she trotted off again, veering farther away from Moonclan territory.
Unluckily, as it were, she was headed straight for an oversized, fever-ridden raccoon that was attacking everything in sight. It was out of view of Phantomfox, but it was only a few seconds in between when she disappeared and when she reappeared, shrieking in fright, pursued by the rabid creature. Her lack of athletic training meant she was slow and uncoordinated, just out of reach of the bristling masked mammal.
Satisfied, he didn't wait to watch her leave, turning to traipse deeper into his territory, the chitter of little prey mammals and a rustling of the fronds he walked past easing contentment back into the tormented tom. For...a few minutes, anyway.
He didn't make it far before the chitter of little prey mammals was interrupted by the shrieking of a big fleeing predator, Phantomfox swinging around with a snarl. "I thought I told you--" He was cut off at the sight of the SummerClan she-cat being chased by a clearly rabid raccoon, and for a moment he cursed the fact that he wasn't totally cold-hearted. He leaped into action without a second thought, dodging around Rosethorn to intercept her assailant. Blinded by its infection and locked onto the retreating white cat, it noticed too late that there were two cats present; lifted by its neck by twisted jaws and with a sickening crunch of bones all breaking in rapid succession, it was dropped to the earth at chocolate paws. With blood now stained on his muzzle, he stepped across the carcass and lumbered across to Rosethorn. "Are all the garden keepers scared of raccoons or is it just you?"
Rosethorn had come to a stop across the open space, breathing heavily from her brief sprinting stint. However, she was not watching Phantomfox as others might have been. The crunching of bones made her teeth grind together, and she was very purposefully looking away from the blood soaked tom. Her soft form was held taut and tense, clearly unnerved.
"I'm not sure," she said tensely, even more annoyed by the fact that Phantomfox had to see her like this. "I haven't had the chance to ask around. I... Thank you." The gratitude was sincere underneath her peeved tone. "That was very kind of you."
"Don't mention it," he growled, but there was a lack of heat to it. Her gratitude made him uncomfortable; it roused an ancient memory from the depths of his turbulent subconscious, all his repressed feelings bubbling to the surface. "You need to leave. Now. Before something else comes along and you lead it straight to MoonClan." An offer to escort lingered on the edge of his breath, but, anger sparking despite himself, he reserved that and instead jabbed a rough paw against her side.
"Fine," Rosethorn said in response, moving away from his paw with an annoyed huff. Still, something kept her from leaving right away. She did not want to be indebted to this tom, and now she felt like she was. But how could she repay him? She was no fighter, no hunter. It was unfortunate, but she would have to repay him the only way she knew how.
"I'll be back in a few days," she said brusquely. "To bring you a present as a thank you. Don't... don't say anything," she cut him off when she saw that he was opening his mouth to protest. Her pale amber eyes met his steadily, assessing him. "I'm bringing it either way, before our borders close down. I'm serious- don't say anything. I'll be at the border around sunhigh." With a flick of her feathery tail, she turned to leave. "My name is Rosethorn, by the way." She wasn't sure why she said it- she didn't even wait to hear his response. Embarrassed, she set off back towards Summerclan, resisting the urge to look back over her should at her savior.
Rosethorn was annoying. She was annoying and demanding and hopelessly useless to her clan, and Phantonfox did not particularly want to find himself trudging toward the border several days after their antagonistic meeting. She was so annoying, in fact, that that's why he was trudging toward the border (not because she'd decided they would meet!). He wanted to tell her just how annoying she was. "I'm here," he stated out loud for no apparent reason. His silver gaze seared into an equally snarky pair of eyes, though he withheld the insults he planned to unleash as Rosethorn cut him off-- again.
"Yes, thank you, I can see that you're here," she said snippily, rather in a rush because of her chagrin. Piled at her feet were various objects, and she basically chucked the first one in his direction- a small wreath of leaffall wildflowers. It was clearly painstakingly made, bursting with purple and yellow flowers and delicate ferns.
"Take it," she said ungraciously. "And don't insult it- or me. I know it's useless. And I didn't make it because I like you or because I think you deserve this. I only made it so we can be even." Looking down, she pushed the remaining bundles of herbs towards him. "This one is for strength and stamina, if you ever need to fight another rabid raccoon. That one is for wounds, in case you get injured- y'know, fighting another rabid raccoon."
Rosethorn glance down at the last bundle, pushing it closer. "And the last one is for pain relief. My sister complains about her scar hurting sometime." Sensing that her tone had become too gentle, she followed it up with an insult. "So you can use these in case your ugly mug ever hurts. So... now we're even. And I don't owe you anything."
He stared down at the objects she flung at him, observing them with an apprehensive expression. And though he wasn't sure she hadn't poisoned each and every one of the herbs, it didn't stop the ensuing "Thank you." Yeah, Phantomfox had manners. He wasn't raised in a barn.
Noticing her shock, there was a trace of amusement pooling into the laugh lines around his muzzle, hidden mementos of a former identity eclipsed by violence and dishonor. They were like stains on his soul, painting black where gold once glittered, and up until now he'd been content with the reputation he had crafted for himself. Up until now, he had forgotten what gratitude felt like.
For the first time since they'd formally met, since he didn't count those days in SummerClan where he was unconscious while Rosethorn's sister was being tended to, he slid to the ground and let his body relax into a languid poise. "You didn't ask and I'm sure you don't care, but my name is Phantomfox. You would have known me as Coyotewild in SummerClan." He didn't so much as look at her as he shared these details, instead busying himself by twirling one of the petals around a claw. Then, gruffly, he snipped, "Don't think this makes us friends."
Why was he sitting? Rosethorn wasn't going to stay and chat with him. Still, she found herself sitting down, draping her long tail, well-groomed like the rest of her soft fur, over her feet. "You must have read my mind," she quipped sarcastically. "Because I thought we were the best of friends."
Still, she could sense something more, something under his antagonism. She had known it was there when he'd saved her after threatening her, and she could see it now, in the way he was more relaxed. Even if he ruffled her considerably, there was an intense curiosity burning in her throat to figure him out.
"Why'd you leave, anyway?" She asked, watching the sunshine flit in the tree branches. "Was Summerclan too nice to you or something?" It seemed on brand for him. "And were you always a clan cat?" Rosethorn was half worried her questioning would drive him away, so she purposefully made her questions less antagonistic.
He spared her the eye roll he was tempted toward, though the grimace at her questions was involuntary. "I was a clan cat for as long as I could remember," he began, hedging around whatever he wasn't capable of answering yet. There was something dark and brooding about him that deterred most others, something that masked the decency and chivalry he was once known for. "Ratstar had just become leader back then... when I joined." It made him feel terribly old, seasons having come and gone, and another fresh sweep of pain flushed through him as it began to steer his thoughts to the events that came after, the climax to an unfinished story.
He could still remember it. The camp was rife with laughter and warmth, as it always was. Living in SummerClan had a way of making all of its residents relaxed, carefree, and happy. He was no different, that newly dubbed Coyotewild. He could still hear them. "Coyotewild! Coyotewild!" His friends and clanmates alike cheered for him. The newest warrior. That troublemaker tom who'd grown into a fine, confident warrior. Ratstar had been so impressed with his improvement, he appointed an apprentice to him that same day. He could still see her. Foxpaw reminded him a lot of himself in her mischievous smile and sassy disposition, in the way she prowled across their territory with him like they were both the lions of legends, defending what belonged to them. He respected her as one might respect an elder; he loved her as one would love their kit. He could still smell them. The dogs. They were utterly, eerily quiet. Every story he'd ever heard of the two-legs' mutts, they were baying and snarling, chasing down prey with no regard to elegance or stealth like the fleet-footed wildcats. He never saw it coming-- until he smelled the acrid tang of their breath. And then it was too late. He could still feel the fangs. There were two of them, and he tried everything he'd learned from his mentor to fend them off. To at least give Foxpaw a chance to survive. But he was severely outmatched, and he was swept up like a ragdoll, shaken every which way as teeth tore into his flesh. It latched onto his head and ripped two deep, jagged slices starting at his ears that ended right before they reached his eyes. It would bite again, this time slashing his cheeks. The onslaught was so, so brief. It was over so quickly. That made it worse. He could still feel her cold skin. Coyotewild did not recall the arrival of the patrol nor how he could still stand at that point. He didn't remember lurching over to where his apprentice lay still, her body torn impossibly and ripped open. Blood soaked and matted the russet fur that was so vibrant and lush, and her dainty white feet were turned crimson instead. The last thing he remembered was stooping to press his nose to her head and then he remembered oblivion.
Phantomfox's jaw clenched, visible pain aflame on his face. "SummerClan wasn't for me," was what he finally said, in lieu of answering her queries, though part of him was sure she didn't expect him to. His former clanmates had regarded him with pride and with reverence, but he didn't deserve that-- not when Foxpaw had been sacrificed due to his ineptitude. In an effort to dispel the moodiness beginning to fester, incapable of handling his self-loathing in a manner that did not involve lashing out, he needled at her, "What about you? Why did you cower from that raccoon instead of turn and fight it?" There was a hint of derision in his voice, but it was more at himself than Rosethorn.
Rosethorn could see the pain in his grimace, and could for once deduce that this pain was what caused him to lash out at her. It wasn't so different from herself- back when she pushed her sister away because she felt overwhelmed and inadequate. For a moment, she understood Phantomfox, and she also understood that he did not want sympathy- because she did not want sympathy.
If she hadn't had that flash of insight, his tone would have sparked anger in her. As it was, she just flicked an ear back before answering. "If I were to be as forthcoming as you, I would say it was just because I don't know how to fight." She chuckled dryly, before looking back at the tom. "But it was for the same reason I couldn't watch you kill it. I can't... I can't handle death," she admitted through gritted teeth, one of the first times she'd verbally acknowledged that shortcoming.
"Same pathetic backstory as anyone, I guess," she laughed, brushing off her pain with humor instead of anger like Phantomfox, or brooding like Orchiddrop. "Dead parents. Funny thing is that I didn't even see it happen- my sister did, and she's a better fighter than you. For some reason I'm the sibling that can't even eat a piece of freshkill if I think about how it came to be in my paws. Useless... you certainly got that one right."
Rosethorn was getting better, more assured her of her own unique strengths, more content in her work. But there were moments when the bitterness and regret of old times got the better of her.
For once he did not display condescension, letting her speak until she was finished without a flicker of...anything passing through the barrier he had constructed in the meantime. He could relate to Rosethorn's story. He had struggled to find a meaning to life again after the encounter that mutilated his face and killed his apprentice, and the phantoms of that memory still walked tangibly through SummerClan's forests, which had made it impossible for him to leave camp. No matter what he tried, he never could shake the devil off his back.
"I'm sorry you and your sister had to experience loss like that," he said, and it was genuine. They were quiet for a long time after that, neither really knowing how to speak into a silence that shared their grief. Seeming to accept that Rosethorn could understand him the way his new clanmates couldn't, he inhaled deeply and exhaled some bravery into his next words. "I left because I was a failure in SummerClan. Here in MoonClan, I'm not that failure. I let--" He flinched. "-- I let my apprentice die. Foxpaw. You might have heard what happened." It was clear he was incapable of saying anything more, the pain too fresh and his heart too worn, but he offered as much as he could to show solidarity.
