Burnrunner

Burnrunner is a dark ginger and pale brown tabby she-cat with dark amber eyes.

## Personality

Burnrunner can be charming to the cats in her Clan, and is quite popular- that is, until you'd find out her inner thoughts. She seems to be the star of her own life, and doesn't apologize for anything wrong that she may do. When she hurts others, it is a cunning plan that she knows will hurt the cat for a long time. She's a master manipulator, and is able to do it so subtly that cats can't tell that she's doing it. She can lie easily and smoothly.  She tends to believe that the Warrior Code is an old tradition that shouldn't apply to her, and she couldn't care less about the consequences of her actions; or about any punishments her leader or deputy gives her, either.  Nothing is going to stop her from doing what she wants, even if a cat tries to stop her.  She grows bored easily, constantly tiring of day-to-day Clan life and wishes for something to spice it up. She's unreliable and unpredictable, and she doesn't care what she does as long as she gets her way in the end; which, of course, is the most important thing to her.

## History

Burnrunner lived a fairly average life in MarshClan until she was given Blazeclaw as an apprentice, when they decided to collaborate to take over all three Clans. During the take-over, though, she was killed by Scarletflower, but only after she had managed to take the former leader, Reedstar's, last life.

## Long Posts

### burn gets her murder kittos

Burnrunner woke to the sun, which she found to be odd. The last time she was awake at dawn was when she was training Blazeclaw, having to make sure that her co-conspirator was prepared for not just the life of a warrior but the life of a leader, a usurper. Her training was strict, and the results she had seen from it made her feel that it was effective - something needed of her, if she was going to be an authority figure in the times to come. Before that, she had only been awake so early when she was at her own mentor's beck and call, and the thought of her time as an apprentice made her want to scowl, if it didn't feel like her face was rendered immobile by the tight hold drowsiness still had on her. When was the last time she had been so tired? She didn't remember.

She ignored the feeling of how comfortable her nest - now shared - felt and struggled against the heaviness in her limbs as she forced herself to sit up. She blinked sleep out of her eyes, and for a few moments her vision remained stubbornly blurred until she lifted a paw and rubbed at them like she was a kit. Now that she could see the warrior's den clearly, though, she wondered if her earlier assessment (that was, having woken up at dawn) was wrong. For one thing, her mate was gone - and even though Lynxstep had been her mate for a short while, now, calling him her mate still felt strange. She didn't bother to refer to Dapplespots in the same way, not unless she was speaking with the tom himself. Still, having Lynxstep missing wasn't necessarily uncommon, even if it was early in the morning; he was a tom Reedstar had gifted with multiple apprentices, and Scarletflower had gifted with plenty of patrols, and now that it was leaffall there was less chance of him freezing at the sight of any fly or ladybug or beetle that crossed his path.

If Burnrunner wasn't so adept at hiding it the amusement she got from that particular fear, or if she even had the energy to laugh in the first place, then she would have. But she had to be a *supportive* mate, didn't she? At the very least, she was good at acting, and any cat that denied it was just a testament to her skill.

The second thing that made itself much more obvious was how empty the den was. Most of the den was empty, aside from a few of the nests: Pathstride's, where the she-cat in question was twitching and mumbling constantly in her sleep - how anyone could have gotten that pest to take a nap was a mystery to her - and Bearheart, hiding her face under her paws as she dozed in that always-cowardly manner of hers. Not that she could blame either of them, though. Naps were something that every warrior partook in, and even if she had just risen she wanted nothing more than to just ease herself back into her nest and sleep some more.

But the fact that almost everyone in the Clan was apparently awake discounted her theory of it being dawn - even dedicated warriors didn't like to be up earlier than they had to. So that meant it must have been dusk, but that couldn't have been true, could it? She couldn't have slept for an entire day. Someone or something would have woken her up before then. But the orange light that was streaming into the den, through the entrance and through cracks in the walls, made it clear that the sun was setting; the color would have been paler, much more golden in shade if it was rising.

Something was wrong, Burnrunner decided - or, maybe not *wrong*, just... *off*. Though she didn't realize it, the conclusion made her curl in on herself slightly, crouching lower to make sure that nothing and no one could reach her vulnerable belly.

The warrior took in a deep breath. Worrying wouldn't solve anything, but maybe breakfast (could it be called breakfast if it was so late in the day?) would? But she found the thought of eating made her stomach turn, and it was instantly cast out of her mind, and her worry grew.

*The medicine cats - I'll go see them.*

Second decision made, Burnrunner got to her paws. Standing felt like an effort, and she found walking even more so, as if someone had tied stones to her paws and she was being weighed down. She ignored the feeling the best she could, pushing forwards and out of the den. The light of the sun made her blink a few times to adjust, and she imagined that if it had been sunhigh then she would have hissed at the brightness that greeted her. She took the dimmer lighting as a blessing, turning to continue towards the medicine den, and within moments she had slipped through the entrance.

"Silverstream?" she called, then after a moment of consideration she added, "Palesky?"

"Ooo," a voice, far too cheerful, sounded. "A *guest*!"

Maybe this was a bad idea, after all.

The reflection of green eyes made itself known first, then Palesky herself slipped into view, her eyes bright and eager - as if Burnrunner was her first patient, even though she knew much better.

"Hi, Burnrunner!" Palesky greeted, punctuating her words with a giggle that grated on the tabby's nerves; StarClan, how was she supposed to get through this? Trust that Silverstream had made the right decision when she declared Palesky competent and gave her her true name? Throwing herself into the ocean sounded easier. "Did you wanna visit?"

Burnrunner forced herself to smile, and as it always did, it appeared as genuine as anything. She offered a respectful dip of her head, reminding herself that Palesky would still be needed once her and Blazeclaw had taken over MarshClan, and maybe even after that, if she proved herself to the older cat now. "Unfortunately, no."

"Aw." Palesky's ears drooped at that, and she looked like she was going to complain - go on about how great herbs were, maybe? - and try to get her to stay, but Burnrunner continued.

"I'm not feeling very well - I was hoping that you could help me?"

That seemed to cheer Palesky up, though it was disconcerting that a possible illness was what did it. "Oh, really? Tell me about it." The younger she-cat sat down, her eyes rounded with interest, and her ears were angled towards the senior warrior to show she was giving her full attention. Burnrunner could see her whiskers quivering just slightly, though, as well as a subtle twitching of her tail that betrayed something else - impatience? Maybe.

Burnrunner sat down as well, curling her tail neatly around her paws and making sure she was more composed than the cat before her. "For one thing, it seems like I slept all day."

"*Lucky* - I wish I could do that."

She ignored the comment. "And the *thought* of food made me feel nauseous - I'm not looking forwards to what would happen if I actually tried to eat anything." The mention of it made her stomach declare mutiny again, and she found herself gritting her teeth for a moment until the feeling passed.

Palesky nodded her head, the action slow. She was silent for a few moments, and in those few moments Burnrunner was tempted to call out for Silverstream instead of dealing with her probably-insane apprentice, before she spoke. "Okay," she mewed simply, then after another moment she added, "Can you lie down for me?"

Burnrunner nodded her head, getting to her paws and padding over to one of the nests. She settled down there, and she had to repress the urge to just let her eyes close and doze off.

Apparently, Palesky noticed. "Tired?" she questioned.

She couldn't find the energy to form words for the moment, so she gave a nod of her head and hummed.

"Long naps do that to you." The other she-cat snorted - actually *snorted* - as if she didn't have a patient lying in front of her. "Isn't that funny?" Before Burnrunner could comment, she had lifted a paw and set it on her belly, and she warrior didn't pause to think before she twisted with a sudden surge of energy and batted the paw harshly away with one of her own.

This didn't seem to surprise Palesky in the least, though, even though she was now greeted with an experienced warrior glaring at her - actually *glaring*, Burnrunner was a better actress than this, wasn't she? - with half a mind to start hissing at her. Instead, she simply offered her a bright grin.

"Well, it's definitely not a bad thing."

Burnrunner didn't respond, only offering an irritated flick of her ear.

"Aw, are you mad at me?"

Ear flick.

"Come on, it's how we check for these kinds of things, you know -"

Ear flick.

"It's not *personal*, you know, it's actually a good sign -"

Ear flick.

"It means you're good and healthy and -"

"And?"

Palesky blinked herself out of her rambling, as if she hadn't noticed that she was getting off track. "Oh! You're expecting."

Burnrunner blinked at her.

"Kits."

"I - I *guessed*."

Palesky nodded seriously. "Well, you might have to quit your warrior duties a bit earlier than most queens - you're *older* than most queens, after all. There might be more complications in the actual birth because of that, too, but we'll take care of you, I promise! And I didn't mean the older thing as an insult, either - I'm sure that Lynxstep'll be happy about being a father, won't he?"

Slowly, Burnrunner nodded her head, her eyes wide as she processed the news. "Yes, I suppose he will." *If they're even his kits, and not Dapplespots'.*

Again, Palesky smiled at her. "Well, we should probably start you on herbs now!" She pranced over to the herb store, nearly tripping over her own paws as she went, and when she returned with a bundle of herbs in her jaws she nearly toppled over, as if walking itself was too much to test her balance. She set the bundle at her paws, explaining to the warrior what each herb was and what it did, but Burnrunner didn't pay attention.

Kits. She was having kits - kits that would grow, kits that would fight, kits that would help her take over MarshClan and ascend to her rightful place of authority. And, eventually, kits that would help her to take over MeadowClan and WaveClan, too. She supposed that she could deal with the nausea and the constant drowsiness, though she hadn't been expecting them; small sacrifices to make for her future reign.

Burnrunner smiled, using the herbs she was supposed to be paying attention to as an excuse to dip her head and hide it. This time, it wasn't fake - it was pure, twisted joy, and her tail swished happily behind her as everything started to truly fall into place.

*Good,* she thought. *I was getting impatient.*

### burn gets mad at the very concept of death

She knew that things hadn't gone according to plan, but just how much her supporters had ruined everything was lost on her until she opened her eyes. Scarletflower's snarling face was fresh in her mind and Reedstar's just-as-fresh blood had just been on her claws, but she was greeted with neither. Some foolish part of her mind hoped that maybe it was just a dream — that she'd woken up in the warriors' den, her real and successful plan just waiting to be deployed. When her eyes adjusted to the gloom, that hope was crushed.

There were no cats in sight — not even the walls of the warriors' den or dozens of nests littering the ground were there to greet her. Only sharp stones and towering trees so tightly packed that their branches weaved together above her head and kept light from slipping through and down onto the forest floor. She could tell that the ground was uneven without having to take a step, covered in sharp stones and jutting tree roots as it was.

Maybe this really was just another dream? This couldn't be a place a cat went to when they died. There were no stars in her fur, no deceased "friends" and family coming to greet her. She was alone, and the only afterlife there was was StarClan (as worthless as that was).

"Strange dream," Burnrunner murmured to herself, beginning to carefully pad forward into the maze-like forest before her, but she found herself frozen in place before she even turned the first corner when an old memory struck her.

It was blurry with age, and many of the details from that time had since slipped from her mind, but it was still there all the same. She knew that she'd been pouting, putting on her best act of feeling bad about an action she had taken but also indignant about being scolded, as all kits did at one point or another — she didn't remember what it was she had done now, but it must have made her mother angry with her. Not that that was uncommon, especially for her. From a young age, she'd known that she was different than most; her time in the nursery had been spent learning how other cats worked, and learning to emulate them.

Her mother towered over her, an expression of displeasure on her face — eyes narrowed, face pinched and almost stoney, and even her posture was stiff as she looked down at her daughter. *If you keep this up, Burnkit,* she had told her, *then you're going to end up in the Dark Coast. Do you want that?*

Externally and frantically, Burnkit had shaken her head, widening her eyes in a fake display of shock and fear as she insisted that that was the last thing she wanted. Internally, she dared her mother to go and find out if the Dark Coast was real for herself. In her young mind, if anyone was going to end up in the Dark Coast when they died, it would be her mother — an ever so strict, far too controlling, barely fit to call herself a mother, waste of space such as Firestone would fit perfectly there, she'd decided.

On any other occasion, Burnrunner would have found her younger self amusing, and viewed the memory in an almost fond light. Now, she was met with a sinking feeling of dread.

She was dead. Scarletflower killed her. She was in the Dark Coast.

Her plan had failed.

And *they* had ruined it for her, she realized. Ruined *everything* for her.

Dread was quickly replaced. Her fur started to rise, her pupils thinned into slits, her tail began lashing from side to side behind her. Her teeth gritted, her muscles tightened, her claws unsheathed and dug into the tree root she was standing on.

She was *angry*, she was *furious, enraged, fuming, storming, infuriated, seething, wrathful*—

She was beyond words.

Had her plan worked — and it *should have worked* — then she would be leading MarshClan, now. Maybe she had managed to kill Reedstar, but Scarletflower would be dead at her paws, too, and so would Blazeclaw (was her old apprentice *really* stupid enough to think that she would allow her to rule over the Clans when *she* could do it, instead?), and with a whole Clan on her side and the cats she'd already gained as supporters, she'd take over WaveClan and MeadowClan as well, and forge a brand new era.

She would have been leader. She would have been all-powerful. She would have made herself a royal.

All of that was ruined.

And she wasn't even at fault.

Her supporters hadn't been strong enough. Blazeclaw, the cat she'd spent so much time and energy training, hadn't been strong enough. Her kits, all five of them, from two different fathers that had been respected warriors in their respective Clans and who she had poured so much time and effort into raising them to be what she wanted them to be, hadn't been strong enough. She supposed that Scorchstorm had come the closest, but *closest* wasn't good enough.

And it was *all their damn fault.*

Blazeclaw was never meant to be leader, she'd known it — oh, *how she'd known it.* She never would have been strong enough to take over all three Clans, no matter how hard she tried. She never would have kept her cats under her control when she ruled them, if she even managed to do that in the first place without her help. They'd get too angry, too fed-up, too tired of her leadership and they would overthrow her.

But *she* could have done it. *Burnrunner* would have succeeded.

For a moment, she let herself imagine it — Burn*star*, having all the power she could ever want and nine lives she'd use to live in her self-created luxury, loved, praised, *worshiped* by her followers.

Lynxstep had been too soft on the kits — she'd known he would be from the moment she'd started speaking with him, but she had thought that she could overpower his softness and mold them into the supporters she wanted. If he wasn't involved, then they would have been perfectly fit for the job; only her influence put onto them, making them into her perfect soldiers.

Or maybe they were just too *weak*. Not a single one of them strong enough. She'd expected better of them, and she took the time to curse each of them by name.

(*Scorchstorm, I hate that you were born. Weedthorn, I hate that you were born. Beewing, I hate that you were born. Swamppaw, I hate that you were born. Swipepaw, I hate that you were born.*

*Why did I think I needed any of you? I didn't. I don't. I could have done all of this on my own, and when you join me here I will make sure that you know I hate everything about you, and that you can do nothing to change that, no matter how hard you try. Oh, I hope you try.*)

Again, she imagined it — Burnstar, leader of the three united Clans (FireClan, she'd call it, not in reference to her mother, but rather to her apprentice — she wasn't heartless, and she would recognize the help she'd received from Blazeclaw to form it, even if she had usurped her would-be leadership from her), an elite team made up of her five kits to help enforce her reign if anyone felt like being unruly. As a reward for being her favorite and the most dedicated out of both of her litters, Scorchstorm would have received the honor of leading the group and acting as her deputy, even though she would make sure that all five of them knew how important they were and how much she treasured them, both as enforcers and as her kits.

Only one of those would have been a lie.

She swore that could almost *taste* her leadership.

And she also imagined her and her mate (the word made her want to scream, now) on a walk in MarshClan territory, and at the end of it she'd call a, *Hey, Lynxstep?* with a sweet smile on her face, as if she was going to remind him of how much she "loved" him, but when he would turn to look at her all she would offer him would be, *Scorchstorm, Weedthorn, and Beewing aren't your kits.* And then she would pad away, leaving him to deal with that little piece of information on his own — it would be her revenge for him failing her now, for softening up her little soldiers, for ruining her plans. She hoped that Dapplespots suffered just as much, but she supposed that he would have already when he realized that she had already found herself a different mate when she lied to him and told him that she loved him, that she'd gotten rid of him once she'd gotten what she'd needed out of him.

She hoped that he was suffering now, that the thought of his kits being used to try and take over MarshClan and having helped murder Reedstar was something that would unsettle Dapplespots at the very least, even if she had no influence over him anymore and it wasn't his own Clan. The very thought irked her — as if she wasn't already indescribably angry.

She hoped all of them — Scarletflower, Lynxstep, Dapplespots, Blazeclaw, Scorchstorm, Weedthorn, Beewing, Swamppaw, Swipepaw, *all of them and so many more* — were suffering. They deserved it. More than any other living being, they deserved it, and if she had to find a way to leave this place and make sure that they did with her own set of claws then she would.

Or she would spend eternity trying.

She opened her maw and she screeched her frustrations to the skies, so loud that it would have made a living cat's ears ring and ache.

But she was not living. That itself was the source of the fury needed to create such a sound.

Burnrunner took off into the Dark Coast at a sprint, clawing and biting and hissing and spitting and yowling and screeching and snarling her wordless, incomprehensible rage to the dank and foul and *worthless* world around her, cursing all those who had failed her with every breath, every step, every noise, every thought, every movement.

How *useless* all of them had been. Every cat, every action, every moment, all of it — *useless*.

What a fucking waste.