July Writing Challenge

[ginger]

What Could Have Been
For this writing challenge, I want you to imagine how your character's life could have been different had only one decision been made differently. It could be life-changing, or it could only alter one day, but does it cause a ripple? Write to find out!
All submissions exceeding 500 words will earn you 300 acorns!

[Talis]

If Tealcest had done one thing differently…

Maybe… She never joined ShellClan.

---

What if she joined ValeClan instead?

Tealcrest crouched, eyes narrowed intensely, fixated on her target. The rabbit nibbled at a shrub, completely unaware of her presence. She was downwind of the rabbit.

In three, two, one! Tealcrest leapt. Her front paws caught the rabbit, and she killed it with a single, swift bite. Picking up the fresh-kill in her jaws, she shook her body for a little more coolness before turning to head back to camp.

At the ValeClan camp, she dropped the rabbit at the fresh-kill pile. Hearing her name called, she turned towards the source, tail lashing in irritation.

“Tealcrest! Want to go on border patrol with us?” One of the Warriors called out.

“No thanks! I’m fine on my own!” Tealcrest snapped. “Mouse-brain.” She added under her breath, irritation towards the other Warriors showing on her face. “Can’t they just leave me alone?” She bounded out of camp again to avoid people talking to her.

---

What if she joined GladeClan instead?

Tealcrest crouched, staring into the distance intently, and leapt. The tree branch barely moved under her light weight as she landed on it. Wind whistled through her pelt. It was a particularly windy day in Leaf-fall, and she was choosing this day to practise her jumping and landing skills.

Since she was a particularly light cat, Tealcrest could easily land on the flimsy and thin branches, which means she had to get used to jumping in the wind. Now was as good a time as any to get more used to it.

Tealcrest’s ear twitched at the sound of a hunting patrol approaching and instantly turned, leaping into the foliage. She would rather not be roped into a patrol right now, thank you very much!

---

What if she joined PeakClan instead?

The short-furred cat knew perfectly well it was a bad decision to choose such a cold place to live. But yet she was persevering here. And really, it was kind of surprising that she felt the cold but never shivered from it, never got sick from it, or such.

That was Tealcrest’s musings to herself as she paced the white snow. As long as she tucked her tail beneath her and made sure to dump some snow on her face and ears, she could blend into the snow. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best idea considering snow melted fast and then her black ears and face were exposed for the world to easily find her. Not exactly optimal for hiding from prey.

Or, in this case, clanmates. Tealcrest crouched down in the snow, desperately praying for the group of cats to leave her alone.

---

What if she never joined a clan, and remained a Rogue?

Tealcrest ducked her head as she weaved through the cars in the parking lot. There had to be a trashcan somewhere around here… Spotting one, she darted over to it, only to see another cat glaring at her.

“This is mine! Back off!” They snarled.

As if I’d snatch it anyways! Tealcrest turned and trotted away, not in the mood to argue for it. There might be a fight, and there wasn’t many cars around them, so she couldn’t use her strategy of hiding under a car and suddenly striking out. So she wouldn’t have much of a chance.

Besides, if she remembered correctly that cat was from one of the city’s local “gangs”. So they were probably guarding the trashcan for their gang. And since she wasn’t in a gang, and never planned to join one, she would rather not have to get in trouble with one.

---

So many different ways she could go… But one thing that Tealcrest will never change is that she’s a loner at heart.

(Word count: 631)
(Note: Tealcrest's original name was Talon, but she's referred to as Tealcrest for convenience sake)

[ginger]

What if Swampymoss did not return? 

Context: After the death of his mate and kits, Swampymoss ran away from the clans for a short while. In this AU, something happened that meant he never came home. 
Trigger Warnings: Death, Accidental Murder (But Also Not Really), Passing mentions of suicidal tendencies

    "Tigerlily?" Swampymoss could tell that something was wrong, even before he woke. His mate lay at his side, but her body was...wrong. It was too cold, too stiff. The grey furred tom bolted upright, pressing his nose to her cheek, then her chest. Nothing...she was completely still. Tears began to well up in his eyes. He looked at his kits, three perfect little daughters. Not one of them had gotten the chance to open their eyes. Even little Magpiekit, the one that everyone said was so strong, lie completely still. And his mate, his beautiful Tigerlily...she was gone. They were all gone! The grey furred tomcat screeched in pain, his yowl cutting through the camp. GladeClan's medicine cat apprentice, Whitepaw, stood at the entrance to the nursery, holding the moss that she had meant to be bringing to the queens. She stared at him in horror, dropping the moss ball. 
    "Swampymoss, I'm so-" 
    The grief stricken tomcat turned quickly, hissing at the young she-cat. In this moment, she was nothing but an intruder. What was worse, she looked far too much like his beloved. After all, they had been sisters. "Shut UP!" In his pain, Swampymoss was completely blinded. He sprung at Whitepaw, knocking her back into the dirt. "You. You could have saved her! Why didn't you save them!" Although he did not see what he was doing, Swampymoss pressed his paws down on Whitepaw's throat, making it impossible for her to speak, or even breathe. "Say SOMETHING!"
    The younger she-cat sputtered, weakly clawing at the tomcat's much stronger paws. "I..I.." She went totally limp. And then, as if a switch was going off in Swampymoss's head, he fell back, releasing her. But, the young medicine cat did not get up. Why wasn't she getting up? He stared in horror at her unmoving form. Then, he looked down at his own paws, which had moments ago been pressing down on her neck. Oh StarClan, what have I done? Swampymoss looked back at his beloved mate, still weeping. 
    "Tigerlily...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." 
    Swampymoss stood and ran out of the nursery, then out of camp. He ran so fast that he did not pause to notice the faint rise and fall of Whitepaw's chest. 

Moons Later

     Now, the grey tomcat stood at the edge of a tall cliff, staring off into the distance. Swampymoss did not know how long he had been wandering for. His pelt had become worn and ragged, even more so than usual. Flies bit at open wounds in his sides, which he had never bothered to tend to. Trying to find herbs meant going near the camp...and he could not do that. He could not face what he had done. He had...killed someone. He had taken an innocent life. He had killed his mate's sister for StarClan's sake! He was a monster... And yet, he could not seem to die. His wounds became infected, and turned to festering sores, yet they never seemed to become bad enough that he could succumb. Why was it so hard for him to die? His mate and kits were gone. All of them had been innocent. They deserved to live, not him. 
    "Swampymoss?" A deep voice called to him in the forest. Swampymoss's head jerked up, and his eyes landed on a pair of cats...One was a tall black and white warrior, obviously the one who had spoken. And the other..Whitepaw. The she-cat was staring back at him with haunted eyes. 
    "No...no...you...you died...I saw you die..."
    The grey tomcat stumbled backwards, terrified. In his fear, he did not seem to realize that the ground beneath him dropped off. Before he even realized what was happening, Swampymoss was falling, slamming onto rocks, and down into the roaring river below. 

The End
Word Count: 695

[fox]

Maybe Chestnut had survived...
Chestnut sat in the hollow of the tree, waiting for his mother to return. He wished he could be out hunting with her, but she said that he had to wait three more moons to learn how to hunt! He got up, and looked for something to try hunting. He'd prove her wrong! He saw a spiky chestnut, about the size of his paw. He crouched, creeping up to it. Before he could pounce, he heard pawsteps coming towards the den! He sat up immediately. He poked his head out of the hollow, and he saw his mother, Larch approaching. What was she carrying? It was bigger than any prey he'd ever seen, about his size. He looked closer. Was his mother limping? He ran up to her.
"What happened? Are you okay? What is that?" Chestnut asked worriedly. His mother smiled, and licked his forehead reassuringly.
"Don't worry, I'm fine! This is a fox kit," she said quickly. Chestnut jumped back, his fur spiking up. A fox kit? What if its mother came looking for it? Didn't foxes eat kits? Why would his mother bring it here? Larch looked at him, and realized his fears.
"It's all right, Chestnut. The fox's mother won't come looking for it," Larch said.
"How do you know?" Chestnut squeaked.
"Because I killed her," Larch said darkly. Chestnut sat up, ready to hear the story. "I was out hunting, when suddenly I smelled fox. She attacked me before I could run, and so I killed her," Larch sounded sad. Chestnut tilted his head at her. Why would she be sad? She killed a fox! That was super-brave, and it was protecting him!
"It was only after I killed her that I heard it," Larch said sadly. "I went towards the sound, and then I found him. That's when I realized; this fox was just a mother protecting her kit, the same as I would have done," Larch said, looking down at her paws. "So I brought him here. I'm going to raise him!"
Chestnut looked at the tiny animal dubiously. "What if it grows up and hurts me?"
Larch thought about that. "Then I'll chase him away."
Chestnut considered. The little fox didn't seem to be doing any harm at the moment, so what was the harm? "Okay," he said, and went up to his mother for milk. Larch lay down to allow him to get it. The little fox turned its head towards Larch, and crawled up to her, looking for milk as well. Chestnut growled at it, trying to tell it that Larch was HIS mother and that was HIS milk, not the fox's. Larch put her paw between them, allowing the fox to take milk. Chestnut grumbled, but allowed it. After he was done, he curled up in his nest to sleep. Just before he drifted off, he felt the little fox curling around him. Chestnut considered growling at him again, but decided against it. The warmth that radiated off of the fox's body felt comforting, somehow.

6 moons later

Chestnut was waiting for his mother to get back from hunting again. But this time, he didn't mind. This time, he had something to do. He had to look after his brother. Chestnut dashed up to Fox, and swiped playfully at his paw.
"Got you! Now you have to be the badger!"
Fox grinned, then asked. "Hey Chestnut? What do badgers look like?"
Chestnut scrunched up his nose, thinking. "Um, I've never seen one, but Larch says that they eat cats!"
Fox shuddered. "They sound scary. I hope a badger never tries to eat me,"
Chestnut thought. "I'm not sure that badgers eat foxes, so I think you're safe."
Fox laughed. "Do badgers eat chestnuts?"
Chestnut looked at Fox, confused. "I don't think so?"
Fox nodded. "Then you're safe, too!" He teased. He dashed up to Chestnut and bopped him on the head. "Got you! Now you chase me!"
Chestnut paused. Did Fox know he wasn't a cat? He'd always just kind of assumed he had, because he looked so different. "Hey, Fox?"
"Yeah?" Fox turned, already a good ways away from Chestnut.
"Do you know why you were named Fox?" Chestnut asked cautiously.
"Um, because... Mom fought a fox before she had me, and my markings look like a fox's?" Fox said, thinking. "Why do you ask?"
Chestnut's blood turned to ice. "Um, no reason," Chestnut said. He wasn't sure what to do. How would he tell Fox that he wasn't a cat? Chestnut knew that HE wouldn't believe anyone if they told HIM he wasn't a cat, so how would he get Fox to believe him? He decided to ask Larch about it later.
"Come on, let's play!" Fox said, nudging Chestnut before running off. Chestnut nodded, smiled, and chased him. Fox or not, he was still his brother.

Word count: 810 (wow this was fun! Now I kind of WANT Chestnut to survive...)