⌖ ThroatSkew

          Maram took careful steps through TundraClan territory, ensuring her paws made no noise through the snow-laden area. She feared if anyone heard her venture toward the FallClan border, they may question her. She felt cold with fear, feeling a shiver run down her spine. The molly didn’t think she would even know where to begin if one of her clanmates came to question her whereabouts. Her ears drooped upon her head- especially if that cat turned out to be her son. She recognized the confused look in his ThroatSkew’s eyes when Maram approached the bundle of PetalClan cats at the gathering. She was quick to reassure him it was nothing more than idle conversation, yet in her heart, she knew she was lying, both to herself and her boy.

          Maram was not a tough cat, in fact, the art of battle never came to her naturally. She felt such a prevalent sense of loss amongst the snowy terrain like it was an alien place to her. Despite her deciding to live with the horned cats and raise her ambitious child there, Maram never truly settled down. Sometimes, when her gaze fell upon her reflection in the ice, a frown formed low on her face. Having no horns to crown her head felt odd- and she was sure she’d caught glance of a few cats just across the clearing giving her dirty looks.

          The calico was happy her son had been born with the feature, sprouting slowly from his head from the moment he was about three moons. While she wasn’t exactly knowing what animal ThroatSkew derived his traits from, Maram was overjoyed when she recognized the similar formation of some kind of cattle horn. She liked to believe her genes caused that to happen somehow- she did spend a good part of her younger life following the herd of the beefy beasts.

          Right now, Maram felt anything but happy at the idea of seeing her child. She knew his unwavering dedication to the place he had been raised, never mind her own distaste. It seemed perfect for the young tom, who’d become increasingly distant from her over the days. She’d noticed with a lingering sorrow how her boy changed. He was angrier, more prone to lashing out, even at his poor mother. No matter how much Maram pried and begged to understand what ThroatSkew was going through, she was turned away with the subtle flick of his tail or growl. The two’s experiences felt so far removed; Oh, ancestors above it stung- it always stung to watch a kit grow, but especially on such sour terms as they had now. 

          She sniffled quietly, feeling congested as if she wanted to cry, but was dry of tears. Previously she’d succumb to a sobbing mess of fur, only letting out quiet whimpers in her nest. 

          Maram lapped at her disheveled fur- goodness did she need to get herself in order. Slowly she padded forward, nearing the edge of TundraClan territory. The calico let out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding, as her paw pads felt the freezing snow melt away. The ground became less rocky here- the chilly territory fading into a warmer atmosphere. The strong scent of FallClan was present in the air, as the border came just into view. 

          Surprisingly, she did not dare venture any farther. She sat on her haunches and fell still in the calm wind. She’d find herself coming here often as of late; to the normal cat, the calico was simply resting her paws in a quiet place. Yet, Maram sat calculating possible movements. She observed the winds and their movements, imagined herself bounding forward and leaping just over the border. The molly even took to thinking of how she would maneuver through FallClan’s dense forest. It was quite silly, really. However, the fantasy of it did bring a certain comfort to Maram’s lost soul.

          A low rumble of a purr left her throat as the clouds overhead cleared from the sky, shining warm sun on her shorter pelt. The calico let out a calm sigh; she’d much prefer something like this every day compared to frigid temperatures. Maram yawned contentedly, settling herself to a lay, neatly tucking her paws beneath her.

          “Ma?”

          Snapped from her relaxed state her eyes flew open, ears swiveling to locate the general area of the sound. Maram’s breath quickened in a slight panic, while her eyes darted around her. She had only been able to move to a crouch before she watched ThroatSkew slink from the thin foliage.

          “Ma, they need the extra bodies for the hunting patrol, yeah?” ThroatSkew paused for a second, which couldn’t help but make Maram slightly more anxious in his presence. His eyes flicked, looking her up and down as if searching for something in her frame. Whether she was imagining things, she was not sure. “What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

          The calico sighed, and despite her ears hanging back flat, her voice was falsely chipper, “Oh, nothing Acreca. Just enjoying the warmer weather, the cold gets to me sometimes.”

          ThroatSkew seemed to delay, yet padded over to sit next to his mother. Though she shouldn't have been, Maram noticed the subtle fear that flashed within herself each time he swung those sharp horns.

          “What? I thought you were used to it,” the tom tilted his head, an edge of offense in his voice.

          Maram chuckled nervously, “Yeah, yeah... But I’ve told you what I mean, right?”

          “You can take the wanderer from the wild, but can’t take the wild out of the wanderer? I know, I’ve heard it a million times,” ThroatSkew playfully rolled his eyes, laying carefully next to her, tilting his large horns away.

         Surprisingly, a light smile spread across her muzzle, “The things I saw on the moors... It was beautiful. You’d have liked it. Wide open spaces and clear skies,” Maram couldn’t help but stare longingly out into the distance, “The summers always had a cool breeze, and when it snowed you could hunker down under trees. There were always some small, messy burrows left over by young badgers.”

         “Do you ever want to go back?”

         “Hm?”

        “Do you miss it, the moor?” ThroatSkew’s brows furrowed.

         Maram fiddled with her paws, pausing uncomfortably as she wondered whether to say anything or not. With a sigh she spoke, “Y-Yes... sometimes. I mean, it was my home, how could I not? But,” the calico gently cuffed her son’s ear, “I have more troublesome things to fret about!”

          “Ma, I’m a warrior now!” ThroatSkew exclaimed, shoving his mother’s paw away, “I told you to stop doing that, it’s embarrassing.”

           “I know, I know.” Maram laughed, however, the smile quickly faded. It was replaced with eyes of solemn, voice low as she muttered, “I wish you’d kept your name, Acreca.”

          “What? Why?” her son flinched back with a slight scrunch of his nose.

          Maram winced as if ThroatSkew had sent his horns straight through her heart. “I don’t understand,” she spoke softly, “Why would you want-”

          “Why do you care?” ThroatSkew let a low growl rumble from his throat, “It’s not your name, is it?”

          Maram let out an exasperated huff of air, sitting upward as her son made his way to his feet. Her hackles raised as she spoke to him in angry dissatisfaction, “It’s about respect, Acreca-”

          “If you knew anything about respect, you’d change your name too,” her son spat, “And don’t call me that! My name is ThroatSkew. Need me to spell it out for you?”

          Her pupils narrowed in outrage, Maram practically shrieking into her son’s ear. If she wasn’t so afraid of those swinging horns, she’d give her cocky kid a taste of her claws. “How could you ever imply that? It’s about respecting ME! My past and who you came from!” The calico fought back heavy tears as she scolded him, voice cracking in the process, “You like to believe you’re one of them, a whole TundraClanner. But you’re not! You’re not and you can’t be! I am your mother, and with that comes MY BLOOD!” 

          “How dare you. How dare YOU of all cats disgrace TundraClan, when all they have done to you is give you a home,” Maram stumbled back as ThroatSkew’s gaze darkened, and he took slow, threatening steps. “If you want to go frolic in flower fields, I’m sure PetalClan would welcome you with open wings.”

          Malice practically bubbled and dripped from the crowned cat’s lips, in a way that froze Maram stuck. Her paws quivered as the tom approached. An overwhelming amount of thoughts raced through her head, all fighting and disagreeing with one another. It stunned her limbs and made the calico feel powerless. Her son couldn’t hurt her... could he?

          Suddenly, almost out of her control, her legs shot into action. Her feet drummed heavy on the forest floor, whisking stray leaves into the air. Her hard breath expelled harshly from her lungs as she bounded forward. Though her feet were not the only beating the ground. Behind her pounded the weighted steps of ThroatSkew, rearing his ugly head. Her adrenaline kept her from glancing back, as fear rushed into her veins and powered her to move faster. The border was only a few strides away... If she could simply-

         Maram would not run. She was not one of weakness.

          When she spun to meet her son’s blind gaze, parting her mouth to utter something, the molly underestimated her kin’s speed. She understood now, this was not her kit. This ugly place had morphed her child into this. Or perhaps it was her own doing. Maram couldn’t determine. It broke her to watch that fade away, though it produced a comfort in her heart. This was not Acreca. He was a wild bull, and she was draped in red.

          The air was knocked suddenly from her lungs, ThroatSkew swerving under her to bash his hard skull against her chest. Her body launched sharply backward, the forest around her spinning in a sickening torture. It almost felt like she was drowning, desperately trying to inhale through the chaos of her surroundings. 

          Maram struck the ground painfully and messily, her frame raking the ground with a spray of mud. Immediately she felt the dull ache of bruising on her front and side. However, she lay still. The calico was for certain ThroatSkew would gladly finish the job, and besides- was too weak to lift herself now. From what she could tell, she rested in a small ditch, perhaps a former tributary. Her eyes flicked upward toward the darkening sky, the moon slightly visible amongst the dark blue- morphing into a rather pleasant purple. Few stars appeared this early in the twilight, though she wished she would be amongst them... If StarClan would even accept her at all.

          Though she fought to keep them open, her eyelids fell closed with the weight of her plummet.