Backstory
Vern • Vortex • Vortexsun
I
...I was born in the same dull camp as my brother, Yaron. Our parents never loved each other, and produced us just to produce us. Did they have other litters? Do I have half siblings..? I don't believe I'll ever get to know that answer…
The rulers of the encampment we were birthed in took our parents away from us as soon as we were weaned. They never tried to come back to us. It was just me and my brother from then on, for the most part. The cages they kept us in were abysmal death traps, and their cold talons stole many at night. It was worse in the day, in the summer, when they would fry us instead. Only the strongest survived. From my brother, I learned to protect us both, and watched his development from the side.
They took Yaron from me when I was six months old, and threw him deeper into our labyrinth. My brother told me later it was because they considered him "exotic"; apparently, my pelt never showed well under the lights, so they deemed me worth much less than him. However, he doesn't realize yet that I was worth a different price instead -- though not of exotic rarity, I was still called "rare" for my odd eyes. Few cats had doubly split eyes, much less vibrant yellow and blue. It was probably the only thing that saved me from immediate death.
Unbeknownst to anyone, the clock was ticking down until that hellfire, an event that my brother speaks of so fondly. I hate it. In the meantime, though... I had time to make a few friends. There was a lovely lady in the cage next to me, and we became quite close. Her name was Lillia; she had a lilac pelt with such a blue hue to it that I considered it lavender instead, and dark copper eyes. On top of my cell, there was a group of young twins like we once were, named Draumba and Exhalo. They were both brown tabbies, each with a spot of lighter fur on their heads, biding their time until the hammer came down. ...What? I say it like it was.
Though I was only able to see them all by craning my neck as far as it would go and smashing my face up against the bars of my cage, we formed a tight-knit group. Lillia was fond of the twins, and spent many days scheming of a way to save the lives they didn't know they were bound to lose. I used the time I knew I had with them wisely instead, teaching them how to play games that my brother and I had once played before we were separated.
I'm not one to reminisce, but I wish that path of my life still existed. It was cruel, but simpler.
Time ran out, and that hellfire rushed upon us with no warning, for the tide of screaming cats was only mere seconds ahead of it. Cats everywhere started fighting death itself to break themselves free of its certain clutches... it was the fire that scared us into action, but the smoke that started to take our lives. Those on the top row of cage stacks started to fry in their pelts, while the lower rows were left to suffocate. I was on the lowest row, but my location only prolonged my suffering. My vision quickly started to blur. I remember finding enough breath to cry out, trying to expel the dust from my chest, wailing as I felt myself go under. Then a thud, and a sharp tug on my scruff. My eyes caught orange and lavender pelts, but only one moved with me as I was dragged away. My paws brushed coals and sparks as I was dragged out of that hell by my own brother, who had managed to break into my cage. I.. I wish in that moment I had enough breath to tell him to go back and save my group, but knowing his side of things now, and how he only wished to save me, my words might have fallen on deaf ears. At least inability then clouds my guilt now.
Outside, he helped to expel the horrors from my lungs, giving me life again. And, through my unblurring eyes, I watched the roof of our old home cave in on top of everyone still left. The screams haunt me to this day -- not from those inside that place, but from those outside.
Yaron's mind seems to have erased his memory of the moments after the collapse of our home, but my own is crystal clear. Some cats tried to run back inside; the foolish were allowed to go, while the loyal held back their desperate family members and friends. I caught a glimpse of Draumba dragging a broken Lillia away from the entrance, Exhalo limping at his side. As the grass started to catch fire, the new leaders among us ushered everyone into the forest, dragging those who couldn't drag themselves. Through abandoning those behind us, we swore to protect those still left. Why we could not have saved more, I will never understand.
II
The first months were tough; my brother was wounded and scarred, but fared better than many. I was fine on the outside, but the ash had chewed up my lungs, and I could only walk short distances, much less run. It got better over time, but I disliked being useless. And, while it was good to have my brother back, I disliked how he treated me like a child alongside the others. Lillia, I learned, had broken her back, and was confined to our home camp, where Exhalo took care of her. Draumba came to visit me often and learned to hunt and fight with Yaron. I joined them at thirteen moons, and caught up by fourteen.
Life in the colony was simple. We hunted for everyone by day, slept by night. Our only enemies were predators, as there were no wild cats around. Guarding our small group was an issue at first. Those who survived long enough in the wild learned basic defense tactics. A few of us became healers, and did our best to learn about the plants strewn across the land to help care for others. Life was stressful, but fine.
Lillia and I grew closer still, now that we weren't separated by cage walls. Exhalo and Draumba became my constant companions, and we would go out frequently to hunt. Days were long, nights were longer, spring came and went, and my company stayed constant. A far cry from my brother, who would drift away at times. I found him once out in the forest with a lost expression on his face, terrified almost. There was nothing I could do but try to comfort him, and let him go to figure things out. He never admits it, but the fire weighs on him in ways he refuses to believe. I can tell.
I believe it was this closeness to our old home and the constant life that chased him away. He told me as summer opened its bowed gates that he wished to leave this place, find a new calling. And I was left with an ultimatum. I debated for weeks, holding him home with desperate pleas for more time. Eventually Draumba stopped me one afternoon and asked me what was up. He gathered his brother and dear Lillia as I explained. They wanted me to stay as much as Yaron wanted to leave. But... Yaron had no one. Though he insisted he was fine, I could tell he wouldn't make it out there alone. He'd succumb to his mind before anything else. The others, at least, had each other. So I left.
I regret it deeply, some days. But at least I can go back. I carved the landscape around me into a mental map as we walked into the unknown, a path for me to follow back home. Making the unknown known.
Midway through our travels, Yaron came to me one morning and proposed a name change. He loudly proclaimed his new title, and urged me to do the same. I refused -- my name was fine. Is fine. Yet he insisted, and I finally gave in. My name he chose for me, having thought it up during the time I refused. And, though Vortex is intriguing, it still mildly irks me whenever I use it; I still prefer my original name.
It took us one year -- twelve moons -- to reach the Outerlands. Shadows speak loudly of rebellion and golden bloodstains on grass, and lower their voices to whisper about black blood running through these forests. It's unnerving, frankly, and I fear for our safety. And now, Yaron has obtained this midas-touched blood, and tasked me with one last thing. I am to be his eyes and ears here, and he shall listen inside, and we will protect each other still, as best as we can.
I hoped that he would keep true to his promises. But, such a thing proved very difficult, with the closed borders. In four moons, I only saw one sign as to tell me that he was still alive and okay. So, I busied myself with setting up dens for lost travelers like myself, and otherwise doing odd tasks that other loners needed completed. Running messages was most frequently asked of me. I soon decided that I would only aid those who were peaceful like myself. In the meantime, I was informed of the presence of the shadowbloods -- Deviates -- around the Outerlands, to my dismay.
III
Just as my brother found a new dawn in his life, mine came in the form of a runaway Elan apprentice named Drizzlepaw. He was barely an apprentice when I found him, shivering and cold, near the border. I provided him food, shelter, and various tales in exchange for his company, and though he would disappear during the day and return during the night, I did not inquire about his purpose. I was content, I had a friend.
The Deviates struck with their full force after a month, and the world changed for everyone. Not just myself. Once Drizzlepaw smelled blood and we heard the screams, it was all I could do to tag along in our race down to Ela, to defend and help fight. I suffered grievous wounds beneath the hooves of a stag after patching up a befallen healer. And I lost myself in a hallucination, leading me to... tear the leg off of a stag, and behead the goldblooded Deviate at the head of the attack on Ela. It's not something I prefer to remember.
After sticking around for a moon and offering my help with healing and repairs, Miss Bee'la and Cottonmouth the Knight have accepted my request to stay in Ela, and I've made quite a few acquaintances since the Incursion. Drizzlepaw has proclaimed himself my brother, and I found company in more places than I could have ever imagined. I’d hoped that this new chapter in my life is more prosperous than the last… but so far it hasn’t been looking up too much.
Though we survived the Incursion, it seems like it’s been hit after hit here -- winter clawing at our heels and bellies, the Halcyon starving as Clan after Clan goes on strike… I worry every day for my brother. To top it all off, there was the announcement of a plague, which put us all on lockdown. Bee’la -- though naming herself as my mentor -- has been stressed lately… it’s unfortunate that I don’t know how else to help her but to offer my shoulder or some extra paws.
And now, she’s just gone.... And we’re teetering on the brink of starving. I can hardly believe it. Spring is here, and she is not. So many of them are not. We’ve lost so many… The only light in the darkness is that Whistlenose -- just Whistle now -- is our new leader, with Brightwing and Palewinter as our deputy and task leader. I put my own name in for task leader, but I’m more than happy with Cotton’sil’s final choice. They’ll do well, I’m sure of it. But, still...
Is this always how it is? Losing those you care about so quickly? Having them vanish off the face of the earth?
Spring normally brings me such optimism and joy, but… I fear what will happen next.
[Last Updated: April 2020]
