HOME | DD

Description

Tangleburr’s belly lurched painfully and her throat convulsed as she vomited into the ferns. She gasped, trying to get her breath back as she licked her lips free of the disgusting slime. The mouse she had eaten that morning had been so stale and foul that it hardly passed as fresh-kill, she doubted even a crow would’ve picked at it, and she was surprised it hadn’t sickened her sooner.
From behind, she heard her brother, Deerfoot, approach from where he waited among the roots of a tree. “Are you finished?” he asked.
Coughing, Tangleburr nodded.
“If you say so,” the brown and gray tom meowed. He rose to his paws and beckoned with his tail. “Come on, we’d better hurry up and finish marking the borders so we can have Runningnose check you out. If whatever you have is catching, we don’t want you spreading it to the rest of the Clan.”
Hauling herself to stand, Tangleburr fought the urge to lean on Deerfoot. She still felt queasy and a bit lightheaded, but she forced herself to keep her jaws clamped and her body upright. The only reason she ate that rotten mouse was because she had no choice - Brokenstar had demanded that every cat focus all their energy on fighting and battle training, he deemed hunting a waste of time. “Every cat will be responsible for finding their own meals,” he had declared at a Clan meeting. “The only cats who shall gather food for for others will be queens for their kits until they are apprenticed, all other cats will fend for themselves.”
Yet again, no one had seen Brokenstar turning a paw to find anything for himself. Many had suspected he crept off alone to catch personal fresh prey while the rest of ShadowClan scavenged for crowfood or the remains of carcasses. Sorry flea-bitten pile of fox dung.
Deerfoot seemed to have read his sister’s thoughts. He let out a snort as a frog hopped out from the water as the two cats stalked along the edge of a pond. “Live prey seem to mock us now,” he hissed. “You bet your pelt that I’d catch that frog and swallow it whole if I knew no one would smell blood on my breath when we got back to camp. Crowfood tastes worse than I ever imagined it to.”
Tangleburr’s stomach gurgled nauseatingly. The mere thought of eating made her feel sick again. “Yeah,” she croaked out.
“You know what?” Deerfoot whispered. As the frog bobbed a little further away, he dropped into a hunting crouch. Slowly, he crept forward, silent as a snake with his eyes fixed on his anticipated prize. Tangleburr watched as Deerfoot eased himself into a perfect position, found a perfect range to pounce, and then he practically soared through the air and snatched the amphibian in his claws.
“GET OFF OF ME!”
An ear-splitting yowl startled Deerfoot so badly that he reared up in terror. The frog bounded back to the pond and disappeared under the rippling surface of the boggy water.
“Get moving, you waste of fur! How dare you disobey my orders, I’ll teach you to undermine me!”
Just as Deerfoot and Tangleburr were about to charge in the direction of the voices, the large shape of a dark brown tabby burst from the reeds, a slightly smaller and thinner light brown tabby in his teeth. It was Brokenstar and Lizardstripe! The aging she-cat struggled in the ShadowClan leader’s hold, the only thing that prompted him to release was when Lizardstripe struck him in his right ear with her claws. She tumbled away, but was back on her paws in an instant, back arched and growling.
“Lizardstripe!” Deerfoot rushed to his mother’s side, but Brokenstar thrust his muzzle into his face. “Back off!” Deerfoot spat. “What in StarClan’s name are you doing to our mother?”
Brokenstar looked twice his normal sized with his fur all flared out and his muscles hunched, large and intimidating. “Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone, warrior!” he screeched. “I am your leader, move aside and stay out of this, or your throat will be the one I tear out next!”
“No!” Deerfoot snapped.
“You miserable kit of a rogue,” Lizardstripe snarled. Despite looking rather shaken and her state of malnutrition, her amber eyes glittered fiercely at Brokenstar, her tail lashing. “You have no right to be called the leader of ShadowClan, or any Clan. StarClan’s kits, I doubt even a band of rogues would accept you!”
Brokenstar lunged to knock the old cat aside, claws unsheathed, but Tangleburr tackled him. “Stop this!” she yowled.
The ShadowClan leader tossed his assailant off with a shake. “I hate all of you!” he screamed. “First, this withered old elder thought she could humiliate me in front of my deputy and warriors when I ordered her to clear out my den and replace my nest, then she had the nerve to call me lazy in front of the entire Clan when she caused a scene! I am not an apprentice to be ordered around and degraded, I am your leader and it is the word of the warrior code that you listen to me and do as I say!” Spittle bubbled at Brokenstar’s lips as he advanced on Lizardstripe once again. He looked so deranged, so wild as he growled and spat and lashed his bent tail. “I think you’ve forgotten that I am not a meek little kit for you to mistreat anymore, old cat!”
“What nonsense are you spitting now?” Deerfoot challenged. He stood defiantly in front of Lizardstripe, his claws outstretched in case Brokenstar tried to leap at her again. “It’s not our fault you were a troublesome furball as a kit, it’s not like you had actual parents to keep you in line!”
With a furious yowl, Brokenstar swiped his claws across Deerfoot’s muzzle, drawing blood as the tom went down. “Says the cat who was at least privileged with acknowledgement and suckling rights, while I was always the one who was pushed away and harassed!”
Tangleburr’s hackles raised as she joined Deerfoot’s side, helping him up while also acting as a barrier between the enraged ShadowClan leader and their mother. “Why are you digging up things that are long forgotten by now?” she hissed.
“Long forgotten-” Brokenstar briefly broke off into incredulous laughter, which unnerved the three battered cats before him. “What a joke, for such things to be ‘long forgotten’!” He used the entirety of his body weight to push Tangleburr into Deerfoot, and the two warriors crashed backward into Lizardstripe, leaving them all in a scrambling heap. As Brokenstar snarled ferociously and stood over them, Tangleburr realized that he was indeed right; he was no longer the small, motherless, seemingly out-of-place kit no cat had stepped forward to claim. He was the son of Raggedstar, but no cat was sure who his birth mother had been. There had been speculation and talk, and all the gossip and assumption had made him an easy target for aggression among his adoptive family, who Tangleburr remembered resenting him relentlessly - herself included.
Lizardstripe struggled to her paws. Her flanks heaved, her ribs were beginning to show after a moon or so of not eating properly and the access work she was expected to due despite age rapidly catching up with her. “You were nothing but another tick on my tail,” she snapped. “About as tolerable as a thorn in my eye or a ripped claw. It wasn’t my fault that Mudclaw wanted kits while I didn’t, and then here comes Raggedstar and Yellowfang moseying right along into the nursery with an extra mouth for me too feed when I barely had enough milk for the three I was already stuck with. At least my actual kits had potential and listened to me, while you were defiant and full of yourself from the start, making things harder than they had to be for everyone!”
Brokenstar leaped clean over Tangleburr and Deerfoot, tackling Lizardstripe and the two tabbies became a yowling storm of teeth and claws. Screeching, Deerfoot flung himself onto Brokenstar’s back and tried to get a hold of his neck, but the larger tom flipped over and crushed him against the ground. Tangleburr went for his belly, but Brokenstar slashed her across the face and then tore into her hind leg, teeth biting down to the bone. “Not so easy to pick on now, am I?!”
Tangleburr caterwauled and struggled and scratched, she could see Deerfoot struggled to stand and Lizardstripe was a trembling heap on the ground, fighting for breath as a deep gash in her shoulder wept scarlet. A sunburst of blood spattered as Brokenstar clenched his jaws tighter around her leg, the pain was absolutely unbearable as Tangleburr fought desperately to escape his vicious grip. Finally, Brokenstar lifted her up by her thrashed leg and slammed her into Deerfoot, and both warriors could only lay together on the muddy ground, their chests heaving for air.
Breathless with fury, Brokenstar turned sharply to Lizardstripe, who was crouching and blinking fearfully up at him. “As for you,” he growled. “Either get out of ShadowClan land and never return or I kill you and your precious kits that are so full of potential. That’s as merciful as I’ll be with any of you sorry furballs; either way, I’m done with you and I won’t ever have to look at your retched hide again.”
“But-” Lizardstripe began.
“Are you choosing death?” Brokenstar cut her off.
“Listen to him, mother,” Tangleburr gasped out at last, her voice hitching as jolts of agony shot through her like lightning. The shooting pain in her leg was so intense she could barely force herself to speak at all, but she wasn’t just going to lay there and let this entitled barbarian slaughter Lizardstripe in front of them over a lousy nest and the pain of the past. “Deerfoot, Runningnose, and I will be just fine on our own. Save yourself and run, he’s not worth it!”
Lizardstripe looked wide-eyed at her daughter. She was still shaking and hyperventilating, obviously still reeling from the terrifying confrontation, but she swallowed hard and glared and Brokenstar, a growl replacing her breathless horror. “ShadowClan isn’t the same ShadowClan I grew up in with you leading it,” she snarled. “I’d rather be a kittypet than endure another day of eating filth so disgusting that a dog wouldn’t think of touching it and letting your brainwashed cats sharpen their claws on me for the sake of battles that haven’t come yet.”
Brokenstar snorted and growled.
“Away I go.” The old light brown tabby shakily rose to her paws, limped a ways into the trees before stopping and gazing at the kits she raised on last time before disappearing into the fog.
Brokenstar merely watched her go, a cruel mew of satisfaction escaped him. “She’ll make a fine meal for the rats in Carrionplace,” he declared. “That is, if a fox doesn’t make pickings of her first.”
Just then, Clawface and Blackfoot exploded into the clearing just as Lizardstripe was out of sight. “Brokenstar,” they meowed in unison.
Brokenstar turned to face his confidants. “Just dealt with an unsavory intruder lurking in the mist, that’s all. I drove her away.” Harshly, he grabbed Deerfoot by the scruff of his neck and tossed him at Blackfoot’s paws. “Not that this useless excuse for a warrior helped. Take him to the training area and let the apprentices and younger warriors practice their ambushing skills on him; it might even motivate him to be more productive and loyal in the future.”
“Yes, Brokenstar. Come now, Deerfoot, up on your paws! You heard the leader.” Blackfoot nipped Deerfoot until he rose up and, shooting a snarl and a glare back at Brokenstar, allowed himself to be herded away by the larger tom.
Clawface stepped forward. “Tangleburr is hurt,” he observed. “Shall I fetch Runningnose?”
Tangleburr’s breath caught in her throat ad Brokenstar studied the damaged he’d caused to her leg. “Yes,” he concluded at last. “She is to be healed as quickly as possible, you see. I have arranged for her to mate with Stumpytail and bear his kits so ShadowClan shall have new warriors in the coming moons. We’re going to need them for the battle with WindClan I have planned.”

i’ve really, REALLY wanted to due a piece featuring brokenstar and his abusive adoptive family, and i’ve had this in my files for awhile! but i’m sick with a sinus infection, so forgive me if this feels rushed or uneven ;~;
also NO: i am NOT trying to paint brokenstar in a positive light; he was a terrible cat who did terrible things, and i do not personally see his shitty childhood as an excuse to justify his behavior as an adult or make it okay that he did all those things. a confrontation scene between him and at least lizardstripe would’ve been very interesting to see in-canon, and this is just a take on that.
and yes, lizardstripe basically called him a son of a bitch

Description

Tangleburr’s belly lurched painfully and her throat convulsed as she vomited into the ferns. She gasped, trying to get her breath back as she licked her lips free of the disgusting slime. The mouse she had eaten that morning had been so stale and foul that it hardly passed as fresh-kill, she doubted even a crow would’ve picked at it, and she was surprised it hadn’t sickened her sooner.
From behind, she heard her brother, Deerfoot, approach from where he waited among the roots of a tree. “Are you finished?” he asked.
Coughing, Tangleburr nodded.
“If you say so,” the brown and gray tom meowed. He rose to his paws and beckoned with his tail. “Come on, we’d better hurry up and finish marking the borders so we can have Runningnose check you out. If whatever you have is catching, we don’t want you spreading it to the rest of the Clan.”
Hauling herself to stand, Tangleburr fought the urge to lean on Deerfoot. She still felt queasy and a bit lightheaded, but she forced herself to keep her jaws clamped and her body upright. The only reason she ate that rotten mouse was because she had no choice - Brokenstar had demanded that every cat focus all their energy on fighting and battle training, he deemed hunting a waste of time. “Every cat will be responsible for finding their own meals,” he had declared at a Clan meeting. “The only cats who shall gather food for for others will be queens for their kits until they are apprenticed, all other cats will fend for themselves.”
Yet again, no one had seen Brokenstar turning a paw to find anything for himself. Many had suspected he crept off alone to catch personal fresh prey while the rest of ShadowClan scavenged for crowfood or the remains of carcasses. Sorry flea-bitten pile of fox dung.
Deerfoot seemed to have read his sister’s thoughts. He let out a snort as a frog hopped out from the water as the two cats stalked along the edge of a pond. “Live prey seem to mock us now,” he hissed. “You bet your pelt that I’d catch that frog and swallow it whole if I knew no one would smell blood on my breath when we got back to camp. Crowfood tastes worse than I ever imagined it to.”
Tangleburr’s stomach gurgled nauseatingly. The mere thought of eating made her feel sick again. “Yeah,” she croaked out.
“You know what?” Deerfoot whispered. As the frog bobbed a little further away, he dropped into a hunting crouch. Slowly, he crept forward, silent as a snake with his eyes fixed on his anticipated prize. Tangleburr watched as Deerfoot eased himself into a perfect position, found a perfect range to pounce, and then he practically soared through the air and snatched the amphibian in his claws.
“GET OFF OF ME!”
An ear-splitting yowl startled Deerfoot so badly that he reared up in terror. The frog bounded back to the pond and disappeared under the rippling surface of the boggy water.
“Get moving, you waste of fur! How dare you disobey my orders, I’ll teach you to undermine me!”
Just as Deerfoot and Tangleburr were about to charge in the direction of the voices, the large shape of a dark brown tabby burst from the reeds, a slightly smaller and thinner light brown tabby in his teeth. It was Brokenstar and Lizardstripe! The aging she-cat struggled in the ShadowClan leader’s hold, the only thing that prompted him to release was when Lizardstripe struck him in his right ear with her claws. She tumbled away, but was back on her paws in an instant, back arched and growling.
“Lizardstripe!” Deerfoot rushed to his mother’s side, but Brokenstar thrust his muzzle into his face. “Back off!” Deerfoot spat. “What in StarClan’s name are you doing to our mother?”
Brokenstar looked twice his normal sized with his fur all flared out and his muscles hunched, large and intimidating. “Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone, warrior!” he screeched. “I am your leader, move aside and stay out of this, or your throat will be the one I tear out next!”
“No!” Deerfoot snapped.
“You miserable kit of a rogue,” Lizardstripe snarled. Despite looking rather shaken and her state of malnutrition, her amber eyes glittered fiercely at Brokenstar, her tail lashing. “You have no right to be called the leader of ShadowClan, or any Clan. StarClan’s kits, I doubt even a band of rogues would accept you!”
Brokenstar lunged to knock the old cat aside, claws unsheathed, but Tangleburr tackled him. “Stop this!” she yowled.
The ShadowClan leader tossed his assailant off with a shake. “I hate all of you!” he screamed. “First, this withered old elder thought she could humiliate me in front of my deputy and warriors when I ordered her to clear out my den and replace my nest, then she had the nerve to call me lazy in front of the entire Clan when she caused a scene! I am not an apprentice to be ordered around and degraded, I am your leader and it is the word of the warrior code that you listen to me and do as I say!” Spittle bubbled at Brokenstar’s lips as he advanced on Lizardstripe once again. He looked so deranged, so wild as he growled and spat and lashed his bent tail. “I think you’ve forgotten that I am not a meek little kit for you to mistreat anymore, old cat!”
“What nonsense are you spitting now?” Deerfoot challenged. He stood defiantly in front of Lizardstripe, his claws outstretched in case Brokenstar tried to leap at her again. “It’s not our fault you were a troublesome furball as a kit, it’s not like you had actual parents to keep you in line!”
With a furious yowl, Brokenstar swiped his claws across Deerfoot’s muzzle, drawing blood as the tom went down. “Says the cat who was at least privileged with acknowledgement and suckling rights, while I was always the one who was pushed away and harassed!”
Tangleburr’s hackles raised as she joined Deerfoot’s side, helping him up while also acting as a barrier between the enraged ShadowClan leader and their mother. “Why are you digging up things that are long forgotten by now?” she hissed.
“Long forgotten-” Brokenstar briefly broke off into incredulous laughter, which unnerved the three battered cats before him. “What a joke, for such things to be ‘long forgotten’!” He used the entirety of his body weight to push Tangleburr into Deerfoot, and the two warriors crashed backward into Lizardstripe, leaving them all in a scrambling heap. As Brokenstar snarled ferociously and stood over them, Tangleburr realized that he was indeed right; he was no longer the small, motherless, seemingly out-of-place kit no cat had stepped forward to claim. He was the son of Raggedstar, but no cat was sure who his birth mother had been. There had been speculation and talk, and all the gossip and assumption had made him an easy target for aggression among his adoptive family, who Tangleburr remembered resenting him relentlessly - herself included.
Lizardstripe struggled to her paws. Her flanks heaved, her ribs were beginning to show after a moon or so of not eating properly and the access work she was expected to due despite age rapidly catching up with her. “You were nothing but another tick on my tail,” she snapped. “About as tolerable as a thorn in my eye or a ripped claw. It wasn’t my fault that Mudclaw wanted kits while I didn’t, and then here comes Raggedstar and Yellowfang moseying right along into the nursery with an extra mouth for me too feed when I barely had enough milk for the three I was already stuck with. At least my actual kits had potential and listened to me, while you were defiant and full of yourself from the start, making things harder than they had to be for everyone!”
Brokenstar leaped clean over Tangleburr and Deerfoot, tackling Lizardstripe and the two tabbies became a yowling storm of teeth and claws. Screeching, Deerfoot flung himself onto Brokenstar’s back and tried to get a hold of his neck, but the larger tom flipped over and crushed him against the ground. Tangleburr went for his belly, but Brokenstar slashed her across the face and then tore into her hind leg, teeth biting down to the bone. “Not so easy to pick on now, am I?!”
Tangleburr caterwauled and struggled and scratched, she could see Deerfoot struggled to stand and Lizardstripe was a trembling heap on the ground, fighting for breath as a deep gash in her shoulder wept scarlet. A sunburst of blood spattered as Brokenstar clenched his jaws tighter around her leg, the pain was absolutely unbearable as Tangleburr fought desperately to escape his vicious grip. Finally, Brokenstar lifted her up by her thrashed leg and slammed her into Deerfoot, and both warriors could only lay together on the muddy ground, their chests heaving for air.
Breathless with fury, Brokenstar turned sharply to Lizardstripe, who was crouching and blinking fearfully up at him. “As for you,” he growled. “Either get out of ShadowClan land and never return or I kill you and your precious kits that are so full of potential. That’s as merciful as I’ll be with any of you sorry furballs; either way, I’m done with you and I won’t ever have to look at your retched hide again.”
“But-” Lizardstripe began.
“Are you choosing death?” Brokenstar cut her off.
“Listen to him, mother,” Tangleburr gasped out at last, her voice hitching as jolts of agony shot through her like lightning. The shooting pain in her leg was so intense she could barely force herself to speak at all, but she wasn’t just going to lay there and let this entitled barbarian slaughter Lizardstripe in front of them over a lousy nest and the pain of the past. “Deerfoot, Runningnose, and I will be just fine on our own. Save yourself and run, he’s not worth it!”
Lizardstripe looked wide-eyed at her daughter. She was still shaking and hyperventilating, obviously still reeling from the terrifying confrontation, but she swallowed hard and glared and Brokenstar, a growl replacing her breathless horror. “ShadowClan isn’t the same ShadowClan I grew up in with you leading it,” she snarled. “I’d rather be a kittypet than endure another day of eating filth so disgusting that a dog wouldn’t think of touching it and letting your brainwashed cats sharpen their claws on me for the sake of battles that haven’t come yet.”
Brokenstar snorted and growled.
“Away I go.” The old light brown tabby shakily rose to her paws, limped a ways into the trees before stopping and gazing at the kits she raised on last time before disappearing into the fog.
Brokenstar merely watched her go, a cruel mew of satisfaction escaped him. “She’ll make a fine meal for the rats in Carrionplace,” he declared. “That is, if a fox doesn’t make pickings of her first.”
Just then, Clawface and Blackfoot exploded into the clearing just as Lizardstripe was out of sight. “Brokenstar,” they meowed in unison.
Brokenstar turned to face his confidants. “Just dealt with an unsavory intruder lurking in the mist, that’s all. I drove her away.” Harshly, he grabbed Deerfoot by the scruff of his neck and tossed him at Blackfoot’s paws. “Not that this useless excuse for a warrior helped. Take him to the training area and let the apprentices and younger warriors practice their ambushing skills on him; it might even motivate him to be more productive and loyal in the future.”
“Yes, Brokenstar. Come now, Deerfoot, up on your paws! You heard the leader.” Blackfoot nipped Deerfoot until he rose up and, shooting a snarl and a glare back at Brokenstar, allowed himself to be herded away by the larger tom.
Clawface stepped forward. “Tangleburr is hurt,” he observed. “Shall I fetch Runningnose?”
Tangleburr’s breath caught in her throat ad Brokenstar studied the damaged he’d caused to her leg. “Yes,” he concluded at last. “She is to be healed as quickly as possible, you see. I have arranged for her to mate with Stumpytail and bear his kits so ShadowClan shall have new warriors in the coming moons. We’re going to need them for the battle with WindClan I have planned.”

i’ve really, REALLY wanted to due a piece featuring brokenstar and his abusive adoptive family, and i’ve had this in my files for awhile! but i’m sick with a sinus infection, so forgive me if this feels rushed or uneven ;~;
also NO: i am NOT trying to paint brokenstar in a positive light; he was a terrible cat who did terrible things, and i do not personally see his shitty childhood as an excuse to justify his behavior as an adult or make it okay that he did all those things. a confrontation scene between him and at least lizardstripe would’ve been very interesting to see in-canon, and this is just a take on that.
and yes, lizardstripe basically called him a son of a bitch