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burning-thistles-bt · 2 years ago

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wait here im stupid @flamestar456

Chap 160 (168) - The Interwar

She was so still. Firestar could hardly tear his eyes from the sight of his mother’s lifeless body hanging limply from his and Creekflower’s jaws. His sister seemed to be in as much shock as him, green eyes wide and glimmering with unshed grief. She met his own stupified gaze and they could do nothing more than stare at each other.

Firestar almost found himself hoping this was nothing more than a dream. A terrible dream, sure, but- but just a dream. A nightmare.

But the exhaustion pulling at his muscles, the stinging pain lingering from the injuries left on him by Lightningfur (Lightningfur! He still was scrambling to make sense of how they’d gone from tearing each other apart to Spottedleaf’s body bleeding out before them), and his trembling limbs were enough to tell him the bleak truth.

Spottedleaf was dead. Gone. Off to join Copperleaf and the rest of their beloved family in StarClan.

He thickly swallowed as Creekflower released their mother’s scruff and slipped under her tortoiseshell body, propping Spottedleaf’s form up with her back. With a nod, Firestar numbly copied her and they shouldered their mother’s body together, tails twining together as they dragged against the dry forest floor.

Their clanmates padded slowly after them, heads bowed, shoulders hunched, and tail low. Nobody had spoken since they left the devastation of LeopardClan and CopperClan’s camp, and nobody spoke now.

Everyone was as speechless as the forest around them. Not even an owl made its presence known as they trekked through their territory. Warriors brushed against each other, heads bent close together, as apprentices wearily staggered onward. Firestar saw his own apprentice Bramblepaw pressed closely against Snowpaw and Mistlepaw, all three large apprentices looking much smaller in their grief.

Creekflower’s apprentice Elderpaw was helping her sister Fernpaw hobble along, the light gray she-cat limping on three paws with a foreleg raised off the ground. Ashpaw murmured softly into Tulippaw’s drooping ears.

Gently ushering the younger cats along were Darkstripe and Cherryfur, both completely silent in each other’s presence for once, and when the two feuding cats caught each other’s eyes, Cherryfur bent forward and brushed her muzzle against the dark tabby’s. Darkstripe blinked slowly, yellow eyes unfocused, before he muttered quiet words to the ginger and white she-cat.

Runningwind’s tail dragged upon the ground, eyes fixed on his pawsteps. Firestar couldn’t see his expression, but he knew the shaking shoulders and stiff form was his best friend’s way of preventing his grief from spilling over. Graystripe, Feathercloud, and Brackenfur trailed behind the older warrior, all three quiet. The awkwardness that had permeated between the latter two had evaporated, and now only a blanket of heartache was to be seen.

Longtail and Cliffwhisker padded side by side, fur brushing as ThunderClan’s camp entrance came into view, and Firestar inhaled a fortifying breath as he braced himself for the horror they were sure to be faced with the moment they stepped paw into camp.

Both he and Creekflower hesitated at the bramble tunnel. They exchanged an anguished look before slipping inside, the brambles catching at their fur as well as Spottedleaf’s.

They were met by Whitestorm, Cinderpelt, Missingheart, Speckletail, Sandstorm, and Willowpelt, all awake and waiting for the return of their clanmates. Firestar’s deputy had placed himself in the center of camp, eyes scanning the edges of camp, eyes open and alert. Cinderpelt paced nervously in front of the medicine den, with Sandstorm and Missingheart beside her. Speckletail and Willowpelt exchanged hushed mews before, seemingly at once, every pair of eyes landed on him.

“Firestar!” Sandstorm called, looking and sounding relieved. “Oh thank StarCla-” Her mew cut off as she fully took in the sight before her, and his mate’s jaw dropped open in astonishment.

“Is that-?” Speckletail gasped.

“No…” Cinderpelt croaked.

“SPOTTEDLEAF?!” Willowpelt wailed. The pale gray she-cat was frozen as Firestar and Creekflower approached Whitestorm, who took a few paces back, yellow eyes wide with horror. Carefully, the littermates laid their mother’s inert corpse in the center of camp before retreating a mouse-length away.

Spottedleaf’s beautiful coat was unblemished along her sides. The real horrorshow was her throat. An ugly gash stretched across her neck, dried blood staining her chest fur. Her mouth was open slightly, like she still held onto the hope that she could say whatever she had wanted to tell him before her spirit left her body. Her eyes, too, were open, but they lacked the spark, the warm love that they had beheld for as long as Firestar could remember.

They lacked the life, strength, and courage of his mother.

The rest of the battle patrol spread out around them, all terribly ragged and shell-shocked, but none of them had any wish to leave the sight before them. Firestar barely registered Missingheart rapidly limping over to where Bramblepaw crouched, curling around his young brother in a futile gesture of comfort.

“Firestar…” Whitestorm whispered. His older brother’s face was aghast. “Who…how..? Who would break the code like this?” His voice shook slightly. “Who would kill a medicine cat?” The usually vigorous white warrior was looking at Firestar like a kit would its mother, and the red tom suddenly found his throat closing up, refusing to allow the words he should - needed to say to leave. His jaw trembled and he looked away from his gaze, staring into Creekflower’s shoulder.

His sister supplied the words he couldn’t get out.

“Lightningfur.” The brown queen’s words weren’t coated in the usual contempt Creekflower held for their sister - instead, they were quiet, defeated almost.

A shocked silence fell over the camp as more cats slowly slunk from their dens. Cats who hadn’t been part of the battle exchanged open-mouthed looks, but nobody seemed inclined to ask more.

Cinderpelt was the first to move, limping slowly over to her mentor’s body, before bending over and beginning to gently clean Spottedleaf’s fur of her own blood. The medicine cat’s blue eyes glimmered with sadness and sorrow, and her gray body trembled. She was clearly distraught, but her innate dedication to the job and life Spottedleaf had guided her through gave her the strength to do her duty as ThunderClan’s sole medicine cat.

Whitestorm took a step forward, jaw opening as if to speak, before he closed it with a snap and glanced at his paws. Firestar had never seen him look so…crushed. Willowpelt staggered forward and dropped to the ground, burying her muzzle into her sister’s fur. Low keens and sobs left his aunt’s throat, and Whitestorm gently draped his tail over his mate’s shoulders.

Runningwind was the next to move, a choked sound leaving his throat, before he, too, fell victim to the draining silence that had stolen the entire clan’s voice. Darkstripe kept opening and closing his mouth, but was just as helpless as the brown tom.

It was Cinderpelt who found the power to shatter the vacuum.

“She was a great mentor,” her mew trembled, blue eyes watering. “Yellowfang too. She’d always told me that Spottedleaf was one of the most gifted medicine cats she’d known, and she’d never met anyone with a kinder heart. Spottedleaf…” Her voice sounded strangled as she held back a sob. “Spottedleaf was such an encouraging, compassionate soul. She never raised her voice at anyone, and no one had more faith in this clan or our ancestors than her. Even in our darkest hours, she never lost hope. Never gave in to the hate she was subjected to. She was so much stronger than anyone gave her credit for.”

“She found the strength to face Thistlestar.” Feathercloud was the next voice. His mew was soft and trembled just as much as Cinderpelt’s but he forged onward. “I have never admired anyone more than her. She was brave to follow us into battle, but even braver to stand up to the cat who caused her so much pain. I wish…I wish I could be half as courageous as she was.”

“I remember when she would give us mossballs to play with,” Cloudtail murmured, white fur stained brown-red along his paws and chest. “And she’d give my siblings and I badger rides. It all seems so long ago now…”

Cliffwhisker blinked rapidly. “Ye-yeah.” She swallowed heavily. “I still remember when I first saw her…coming out of Bluestar’s den, looking so troubled, yet she was still able to welcome me with open paws. I…I’ll never forget her.”

“She was the best mother we could’ve had,” Creekflower meowed, tail lying unmoving in the dirt beneath their paws. “No one ever really appreciated how she was able to balance her duties as a medicine cat with those of a mother. Some would claim she failed at the latter, but that would be a lie.” The brown tabby’s voice became flinty. “She loved us, she showered us with that love, and that is what a mother is meant to do. She loved us more than life itself, and even-” Creekflower sobbed, and Firestar pressed his pelt against hers, invisible claws tearing at his chest as his sister continued. “Even wh-en Light-Lightningfur’s claws took her life, she sti-still loved her. She still loves all of us - her kits, her family, her clan. All of us.”

Murmurs of agreement, mournful in melody, met his sister’s words. Firestar swallowed, fighting to remove the lump in his throat to give the proper send-off his mother deserved - but then he pricked his ears.

The entrance tunnel rustled. The cats nearest to it tensed, ears flattening, and dropped to the ground in preparation. Firestar himself unsheathed his claws. If this was a retaliatory attack, these attackers had another thing coming-!

Airleap shot through the tunnel and skidded to a halt, sides heaving as his green gaze zeroed in on Spottedleaf’s body. The cats nearby relaxed their stances, some meowing quiet words of condolences, as the brown and white tom hesitantly walked forward, pausing every so often like he expected to be thrown out at any moment.

Airleap met Firestar’s gaze. “I…I hope I’m not too late…?” his brother weakly meowed. “I’m sorry- I-I was helping with Meadowslip…”

Firestar faintly smiled as Creekflower flicked her tail for their brother to join them. He rushed forward then, squeezing in between the red tom and brown tabby, and stared mournfully at their mother’s body. Not only had he lost a clanmate today, but…

“I wish…” Airleap whispered. He cleared his throat and said louder, “I wish I had more time with her. Talked to her more at Gatherings. I…I took her love for granted and-and now…” His voice trailed off and his shoulders hunched, eyes tearing away from Spottedleaf and to his own paws.

Firestar nuzzled his cheek gently as Creekflower began to groom Airleap’s ears. It was his turn now.

“Everything she lived for was for this clan,” he began, tail swishing softly. He felt Sandstorm’s soft fur brush against his side, and he twined his tail with hers. “She cared for the young and old, strong and weak, healthy and sick. She had so much love in her heart, and she used it to care not only for us, but even those outside of our clan - outside of the forest, even.” The picture of Spottedleaf tenderly caring for the sick and injured of BloodClan rose to the forefront of his mind. “I have no doubt that she’ll be honored in StarClan for her compassion and courage. She’s been reunited with our family.” He exchanged a glance with his littermates and stepped forward before bending to brush his whiskers against his mother’s muzzle for the last time. “Say hi to Copperleaf for me, mom.”

Willowpelt shakily raised her head and gave his nose a lick. “She’d be so proud,” she murmured, blinking softly at him, “Of you Firestar. And you, Creekflower. And you, Airleap. You all made her so, so proud.”

Airleap had lifted his head slightly, but quickly ducked it as Creekflower stared at her paws, frowning. Firestar himself bashfully licked his chest fur as one by one, the clan moved forward to say their goodbyes.

Whitestorm settled down to sit vigil alongside Willowpelt, Creekflower, Airleap, and Firestar himself. Sandstorm gently groomed Firestar’s ears before she had to return to the nursery. Cinderpelt checked over each and every cat after they said their goodbyes to the former medicine cat, either sending them away to rest in their dens or to her own to receive treatment. Fernpaw was guided to the den by Elderpaw. Missingheart was still curled protectively around Bramblepaw with Goldenflower next to them. The injured tom’s amber gaze was transfixed upon the dead medicine cat, glittering with grief.

Brightheart and Cloudtail stood a few tail-lengths away, cleared by Cinderpelt for the night. Cliffwhisker was at their side as Longtail stepped away from Spottedleaf’s body. The pale tabby nosed Creekflower’s ear before moving away to let the next cat move forward.

Time seemed to slip away and stall all at once. Firestar barely noticed when Siverpelt rose, the warriors of StarClan twinkling down upon ThunderClan’s vigil, before giving way to daybreak.

As one, the elders rose and hobbled forward. Speckletail��s face was wreathed with regret and sadness as she carefully slipped underneath the tortoiseshell’s hunches. Wise Halftail and One-eye bowed their heads, seemingly praying, before taking up their share of the burden. Dappletail softly shook her head and heaved Spottedleaf’s shoulders onto her own.

The only elder, Firestar noticed, that did not help, was Smallear. The old tom was behind the other elders, looking firmly away from his mother’s corpse. Firestar frowned slightly. Surely, even with the tom’s trepidation about Firestar’s family, he would at least offer to assist the other elders? Why, even Frostfur-

Wait.

“Where’s Frostfur?” he asked quietly as the elders slipped out of camp. Whitestorm was the one who answered, pausing his gentle grooming of his mate.

“She left camp.” His tail twitched. “I tried to stop her. I told her it wasn’t safe, but she tried to claw my face off for it.” Firestar heard Creekflower softly hiss in response. “I figured it was best to just let her go than risk injury,” the deputy concluded.

“A wise idea,” Creekflower murmured.

Firestar nodded and rose to his paws, wincing as his muscles seized up and his wounds stung. He’d have to visit Cinderpelt for those. His heart plummeted as it hit him; his mother would never be the one to soothe those injuries. Never again. Her sweet scent that came from the many herbs clinging to her pelt would eventually fade from the medicine den, and - most frighteningly - perhaps even his own memory.

He swallowed, then pushed his worries away, turning to his deputy.

“Whitestorm, send out a patrol to both the ShadowClan and RiverClan borders. Twolegplace too. And maybe a couple hunting patrols. Use anyone who’s able. We must show our enemies we are still strong.” His brother dipped his head in acknowledgement and began scanning the still, yet crowded, camp for the able-bodied.

Cloudtail, his fur cleaned of blood and cobweb covering a bite on his side, offered to join a patrol. Brightheart, Brackenfur, and Runningwind were cleared to join him.

As slowly, almost robotically, the camp started to go through the motions of a typical day, Firestar headed for the nursery. His limbs shook. His eyes were heavy. He desperately needed to sleep, but he sought nothing more than Sandstorm’s comforting presence and the reassurance that his mate and kits were, at least, safe.

For now, his subconsciousness hissed.

He told it to shut up.

Sandstorm was awake when he entered, watching their kits with a troubled look on her face, before it cleared as she caught sight of him.

“Firestar,” she meowed. He didn’t reply, too exhausted to say anything, and instead collapsed at her side, a weak purr leaving his throat as her muzzle brushed against his own. “They’re alright,” she murmured. “Redkit got a little waily last night, but he was just feeling a little hungry.”

Firestar felt a smile pull at his muzzle. “That’s good…” he sighed. “I’m glad they’re okay.”

Sandstorm gently began to groom his ears, and Firestar’s eyes went half-lidded. “I wonder what tomorrow will bring,” he murmured. Beside him, Sandstorm shifted, not replying in words but pressing her warm flank close to him. “Tigerstar is determined to make himself ruler of the whole forest,” he continued quietly. “And Thistlestar…he won’t be standing down anytime soon either. We must expect another battle.”

His mate paused her grooming, and Firestar cracked an eye open to glance at her. Sandstorm’s head was titled thoughtfully. “BloodClan abandoned them, right? Runningwind spoke of the battle.”

The red tom hummed in acknowledgement. “Yes, they did.” The relief that had flooded his veins had been a soothing balm upon his nerves when the dangerous, aggressive Twolegplace cats had turned tail from the fight.

There was a gleam in Sandstorm’s eye, and Firestar softly raised his head, curious at what was running through his mate’s mind like a scampering mouse.

“Do you think Scourge would be willing to ally with us this time?” she asked carefully. “He clearly holds no love for Tigerstar or Thistlestar-”

“He definitely attacked Thistlestar, from what Cherryfur told me,” Firestar murmured.

“Then he must have a reason to fight against them,” Sandstorm nodded. “Even if he isn’t our biggest fan, he clearly hates them more than he does us.”

A bolt of lightning struck Firestar then, and his ears pricked up. “Sandstorm, you are a genius!” He licked her muzzle and a genuine purr left his throat. “We probably have a few days at most before we should expect another fight - even Tigerstar and Thistlestar wouldn’t dare intrude on a vigil for a medicine cat, plus they have their own cats to treat.”

Sandstorm smiled, light green eyes glimmering with a soft pride. “Then it’s settled,” she meowed, satisfied. “But before you go running off to BloodClan you need some rest.” The light in his eyes dimmed and she murmured. “You’ve had a rough day - you need to recover.”

The happy bubble in Firestar’s chest popped and his shoulders slumped as his mother’s bloodied body and Lightningfur’s bloodstained claws invaded his mind once more.

He swallowed. “You’re right,” he agreed heavily. “I’ll talk to Whitestorm about it tomorrow.”

Sandstorm pressed her head under his chin. “Even if things don’t look bright right now,” she whispered against his neck fur. “Know that there’s only one way for it to go - up. Our future will be bright, you’ll see.”

Firestar closed his eyes and settled down beside Sandstorm, listening to her soft, regular breathing and the tiny mewls of his kits.

Our future, Sandstorm had said, sounding so sure of their destinies. But would it include the safety of his family and clan? Bluestar’s prophecy echoed through his ears.

Four split eight will become one. The clans have for sure become split. RiverClan and ShadowClan had turned in on themselves, fighting their fellow clanmates as well as others. ThunderClan had been a cesspool of spite, rumor, and curses for moons and moons - it seemed they had been split even longer than that of RiverClan and ShadowClan. WindClan, thankfully, hadn’t seemed to suffer the same split, but with the introduction of BloodClan into the forest clans’ affairs, it was clear the fated eight clans were all in the game.

Firestar couldn’t imagine any of them becoming “one” anytime soon.

His mind shifted to the next dreadful line. Lightning will strike the leopard. The thought of lightning made him automatically think of his exiled sister, and his gut twisted. Has that line already come true? he despaired. Could it have been a bloodletting of Spottedleaf’s death - or perhaps of the battle itself? Lightningfur was part of the attacking forces upon LeopardClan…

He subtly shook his head, careful not to wake Sandstorm with the movement. Whatever the case, neither line made his blood run colder than the very last, dire warning; Blood will rule the forest.

So much blood had already been spilt from all the clans that day…was it a condemnation of the forest itself? Were more cats going to be lost before peace was found?

Something in Firestar told him that the bloodbath and violence had only just begun.

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

The invisible, suffocating force of sharp claws dug into her chest, taking her breath away and leaving her throat thick with emotions that choked her near to death. The pale sky above was heavy with white, fluffy clouds, hiding the bright yellow of the sun away. Yet, as she stared at the heavenly rays, she could only picture the soft amber-colored fur of a cat she so deeply loved.

Most cats prayed to StarClan at night, when Silverpelt shown in the dark sky, their ancestors shining down upon them and guiding them to peaceful dreams.

Dawncloud was not most cats.

“Oh, Copperleaf,” she said to the sun. “Please, take care of Applefur for us, and I will take care of our kits down here.” Her voice cracked and croaked, torn apart by grief and sorrow. “I hope your mother finds you, and you find her… And if you find my brothers, please say hello. I… I can barely remember them, but I think you will like them… They were so funny and bold.”

“May… may you be happy in the stars where you rest. I love you,” she whispered, barely audible above the small, cold woosh of a calm breeze through the moore. “I love you so much; you were my best friend. I only wish I could have told you how much, but I hope you hear me now and know: I love you.”

The winds were quiet, swaying the windswept grass back and forth peacefully.

“...It’s kind of beautiful here, isn’t it?”

Dawncloud turned her head over her shoulder, watching as Badgerfang strode up to her. Despite his large paws, thick-furred chest, and lumbering build, he was as silent on his feet as any other ShadowClan warrior. As the black and white tom settled beside her, dwarfing her in size and forcing her to crane her head up, she smiled at him, warmed just by his company.

“Thinking of becoming a WindClan warrior?” she teased.

Badgerfang harrumphed, a grin stretching his fuzzy muzzle. “Nah,” he answered easily. “All this running after rabbits has really left me kaput. I think I’ll stick to fat frogs, thanks.” He glanced around, staring out and over the hills that sloped up and down, up and down. “But I like the view. Being able to see everything around me… It’s nice. Nothing hiding in the shadows, you know.”

Dawncloud knew.

She stared back up at the sky, at the blazing sun, far too bright for it to be so cold. But even the sun could not chase leaf-bare away forever.

“I know,” she replied quietly. “I’ll miss the light, when we return to ShadowClan territory. The pine trees block out the sun in a way I never realized before.”

“When we returned to ShadowClan?” Badgerfang repeated, smiling at her and twitching his whiskers. “That’s pretty optimistic of you.”

Dawncloud smiled weakly back at him, claws squeezing at her chest again. “I’ll be honest, I am not as optimistic as I sound… Copperleaf was always the optimist- never questioned, just did. Always certain it would be okay… I can never see it that way. I’m so afraid, Badgerfang…” She hung her head, eyes closed as grief strangled her throat. “But I choose to be optimistic for him. It’s what he would do for me.”

“So you do what he would do for you for yourself because you know he would want to do it for you?” Badgerfang clarified, puzzling it out with a tilt of his head.

Dawncloud looked up at him, lips cracking up at the corners. “I’m not sure I quite followed,” she said, “but yes, something like that… I know he’d want me to be happy. So I’m going to try my best to be, for him. …For myself.”

“Hm,” Badgerfang said, staring up at the sky with her. “That’s nice.”

For a moment, they basked in silence, and then Badgerfang heaved a sigh, dropping his head down and staring at his paws in the grass.

“What’s wrong?” Dawncloud asked.

“What isn’t wrong?” he mumbled bitterly, shaking his head. “I want to be happy too, Dawncloud, and I am! But I… I still feel so…” He looked away, ears flat against his head. His tail twitched, brushing through the grass. Suddenly, a low wail left his throat, and he rose his head to the skies. “He’s dead, Dawncloud! I can’t- I don’t know what to do. Every cat I- after Copperleaf died, I was broken, but I knew I must keep going, for him, but now- it feels like every cat I look to for guidance dies, and I don’t know what to do… How will we- our clan- CopperClan- survive without them…?”

Dawncloud pressed her muzzle against Badgerfang’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Badgerfang,” she rasped, voice full of pain. The vigil last night had dragged everything back up again, and she felt just as torn up as her friend beside her. “Flintfang was a good cat. We’ll remember him forever just as we will Copperleaf.”

Badgerfang sighed, ears drooping as he gazed sadly at the ground. “Leopardfur makes this seem so easy,” he mumbled. “Every death she suffers only makes her seem stronger… I’m not sure I can do the same.”

“You don’t have to,” Dawncloud told him kindly. “You’re good enough as you.”

Badgerfang stared at her almost in surprise, his green eyes wide and brows arched high. His eyes studied her face for a moment, and then he laughed lightly. “Thank you, Dawncloud,” he said. “I think I needed to hear that.”

Dawncloud smiled at him. “Of course,” she said. “I think we all need to believe in ourselves a little more if we’re going to get through this.”

Badgerfang smiled crookedly at her. “Is that what Copperleaf would say?”

Dawncloud blinked, thinking about that for a minute. “No,” she answered, surprising herself. “It's what I would say.”

Badgerfang’s smile softened, and he glanced back out at the moorelands. “You know,” he said, “I think there’s something we need to do.”

Dawncloud cocked her head curiously. “What?” she asked.

“Nightpaw was just as brave and courageous during the battle as you,” he said. “She’s shown great promise and loyalty to our clan and our cause, despite being born an outsider. Despite her family remaining in TigerClan. I think it’s more than time she earned her warrior name.”

Dawncloud’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

Badgerfang grinned at her. “I am!” he said happily, honestly. “You’ve done a great job training her, and it’s shown. Who ever could have an apprentice more bold and loyal than her? C’mon,” he reached his nose out to nudge her shoulder as he stood up, “let’s go.”

“What about a warrior’s assessment?” Dawncloud fretted, rising to her feet after her friend. She had to walk faster to keep up with his long strides. “Will there be time?”

“I don’t think she needs one,” Badgerfang said. “Do you?”

Dawncloud thought again, tilting her head. “No.”

“Then it’s settled.” Badgerfang grinned toothily at her. “Any warrior name you like?”

Dawncloud blinked. “I’m naming her?”

“Well,” Badgerfang said, shrugging, “I don’t see why not… Unless we just let Leopardfur choose… Or I guess Tallstar will be doing the ceremony. This is his camp, after all.”

Dawncloud frowned. Why not you? she thought, but did not say. It was undeniable that Badgerfang had stepped up in caring for the ShadowClan rebels and guiding them; taking on the roles of a deputy organizing everyday patrols, and of a leader, balancing their relationships with their allies.

But perhaps Badgerfang had not realized how much he was following in Copperleaf’s pawsteps.

It would make sense- Copperleaf was always so needlessly humble too. Just doing things to do things, because they were good, not for any recognition or gain.

It was what she loved about him.

He didn’t leave his birth clan, ThunderClan, to swoop her off her feet. He didn’t push Finchflight away from her and help her raise her kits because he just wanted to nest her. He never once tried anything like that.

No, he did it because it was right, and he’d never had a single thought further than that.

This is right, she thought firmly as she and Badgerfang headed towards WindClan’s camp, bowing their heads in greeting to the guards dutifully watching the entrance- Ashfoot and young Storkflower.

Nightpaw shall be a warrior, because it was right.

CopperClan was united with LeopardClan and allied with WindClan and ThunderClan, because it was right.

And TigerClan was going down, because it was right.

Because Copperleaf was dead.

“It’s weird,” Badgerfang murmured as they padded down the tunnel and into the gorge of WindClan’s camp. The sun still shone brightly down into the camp, washing away the dark night of yesterday, when they’d mourned their fallen clanmates together. Badgerfang’s gaze scanned over camp, watching cats ambled quietly around, only a few sharing tongues. Surprisingly, LeopardClan cats mingled easily with the WindClan cats, while the older generation of CopperClan seemed a little more awkward, clustered together. “I know we’re supposed to be united, but sharing a camp like this is weird… I don’t hate it, but it’s strange when I was always told that the other clans were our enemies.”

“I know,” Dawncloud replied. “Even though Copperleaf was from ThunderClan, I still never trusted them… They felt so different from us. But… they aren’t, really.” She thought of Spottedleaf abruptly, who shared a story so much like hers, that Dawncloud felt the pain of the kind medicine cat’s death hit her just as hard as Copperleaf’s.

Dawncloud wished she could have gotten to know Spottedleaf before she’d died. Spoken to her at Gatherings, perhaps, or shared kind words at the border…

It would have been nice.

But the world wasn’t so nice. It took the good things away from everyone.

“At least LeopardClan’s adjusting easier than we are,” Badgerfang mused as they padded past Reedwhisker, Primroseleaf, and Dawnflower sharing tongues with Gorseheart and Quailcloud. They waved tails at each other.

“LeopardClan’s changed camps so many times by now,” Dawncloud meowed. “I’m not surprised.”

Their casual conversation quieted as they approached the leader of WindClan, Tallstar. The wizened old tom sat coolly, watching the camp from the granite boulder they called Tallrock. Deadfoot, his deputy, lazed beside him, murmuring a few words that Tallstar flicked his ear in response to.

Tallstar took notice of them waiting at the bottom of Tallrock immediately, ears perking. With elegance not betraying his age, he leaped gracefully to the bottom. “Yes?” he said. “What can I do for you?”

Badgerfang bowed, head dropped to his paws, to Tallstar, who immediately waved a paw. “No need for that,” Tallstar said.

Badgerfang looked startled, but nodded, rising to his paws again. “Well,” he began, glancing at Dawncloud, who gave him a nod of reassurance, “we believe one of our apprentices- well, our only apprentice, really- uh, Nightpaw- is deserving of a warrior name.”

“Ah,” Tallstar nodded, “I see. In that case, you have my permission.”

Badgerfang blinked, bewildered. “Uh- permission to what?”

Tallstar tilted his head, raising a brow. From atop the Tallrock, Dawncloud swore she could hear Deadfoot purring in amusement, a quirk to the black tom’s lips.

“To use the Tallrock for this ceremony,” Tallstar answered.

“Oh.” Badgerfang blinked again. Then, his eyes widened, and his fur prickled. “Wait- you mean, me? Like, I do the ceremony? But I’m not a leader!”

“You’re not?” Tallstar tilted his head the other way, a wry smirk on his lips. The twinkle in his amber eyes made Dawncloud raise a paw to her muzzle to sniffle a giggle. “You certainly could have fooled me. Tell me then, who has been leading CopperClan then? A ghost?”

Sudden sorrow passed over Badgerfang’s features, and he dropped his head, chin hitting the fluff of his chest. He stared solemnly at his paws. “I only wish that was true,” he murmured. “Copperleaf would know what to do.”

Dawncloud’s chest tightened with the same sorrow he felt.

Tallstar’s smirk fell. He tipped his head to them. “I apologize,” he said. “I only meant it in jest. But I find it to be true. The moment Copperleaf fell, you stepped up to guide your clanmates. Though neither of you spoke the words, it was clear to me that you were as much a leader and deputy as I and Deadfoot are. I see no reason why you cannot be leader.”

“I have no nine lives?” mumbled Badgerfang almost grumpily as he looked away. The sorrow coated his eyes like mud stuck to a pelt.

“Neither did Copperleaf,” Tallstar meowed. “And neither does Leopardfur. Yet you still call both of them leaders.” Tallstar took a deep breath. “It is true- it is not conventional. True leaders have nine lives, given to them as a blessing from StarClan. But, it seems to me, Tigerstar and Thistlestar have taken StarClan’s blessing and used it for themselves instead of their clan. When they fall- and it is when- who will take their places? Their deputies? To repeat their crimes?”

Tallstar reached out a paw, placing it underneath Badgerfang’s chin and guiding his head upwards. Badgerfang reluctantly met his gaze.

“Perhaps I am hasty to assume this,” Tallstar mused, “but I think it will be you.”

Badgerfang sucked in a breath, taking a few steps backwards. “No,” he said. “No- I’m not… Leading a rebellion is one thing, but I don’t-... I’m not a leader. I’m… too young, too inexperienced. I still have so much to learn-”

“And you will learn it,” Tallstar replied easily. “Give it time. We are all young once.”

Badgerfang still shook his head. “I’m…” He looked away, staring at a spot on the ground like it might give him the answers. “I… won’t lie. I’ve thought about it… thought about leading the- leading CopperClan, specifically. I thought I could do it. I thought I could be like Copperleaf. But now… I don’t know. I… I couldn’t protect us against TigerClan and ThistleClan and- and BloodClan. I didn’t know what to do, and then- then Flintfang died, and…”

Dawncloud brushed her tail tip against Badgerfang’s flank, and he jerked his head up, staring at her.

She smiled at him.

“You don’t have to be like Copperleaf,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to be like anyone else. It’s okay if you’re not ready for the responsibility yet- you can take it one step at a time and we’ll all be behind you.” Then, she smirked a little, tilting her head. “Blossomtail’ll make sure you don’t lose your head.”

Badgerfang couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his muzzle, turning his head away almost bashfully. “Heh, yeah,” he said. “I know he will. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t lose his tail.” Badgerfang grinned, but it was nervous, and he looked up at Tallstar. “Are you sure I should do the ceremony…? I mean, I hardly know the words. What if I mess it up?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” called Deadfoot from above, head lounging over the edge of Tallrock with a smirk. “Tallstar forgot to call upon StarClan the first few times.”

Tallstar smiled, not at all looking abashed at his previous mistakes. “You’ll learn the words in time,” he said. “With time, you’ll hardly even remember when you’re saying them. It becomes like second nature.”

Badgerfang blinked, still smiling nervously. His tail twitched. “Alright,” he said slowly. “I suppose… If you’re alright with me doing it…” He glanced up at the top of Tallrock.

Tallstar dipped his head to Badgerfang. “Go ahead.”

Deadfoot rose to his paws, and leaped down just as effortlessly as Tallstar, despite his twisted front paw. “Good luck,” the black tom meowed. He stepped forward and bumped his shoulder against Badgerfang’s. “And don’t worry. You’ve got a strong voice.”

Badgerfang blinked, perplexed, before he dipped his head to the two WindClan cats. He took a deep breath, glancing at Dawncloud. She smiled, nodding to him. He smiled, then bunched his muscles and leaped for Tallrock. His claws dug into the crevices on the stone and he hauled himself to the top. He raised his head into the sky, the soft breeze ruffling the dark mane of fur around his neck, causing it to sway.

He looked like a lion.

Just with fur as black as night and a stripe of white down his back, of course.

Badgerfang stared out across camp, and Dawncloud craned her head over her shoulder to do the same, watching as cats of three camps all mingled together, sharing prey and tongues as one.

Badgerfang took a deep breath, then yowled, “All cats gather beneath, uh, the Tallrock for a clan meeting!”

Gazes snapped to the large, striped tom upon the boulder.

Badgerfang did not falter, paws firm, tail and chin high.

Dawncloud smiled.

“I did not realize Tallstar was retiring and giving leadership to a ShadowClan cat,” drawled the dark voice of warrior Mudclaw. The dark brown WindClan cat narrowed his eyes suspiciously, glaring up at Badgerfang on the rock. Beside him, a few WindClan cats bore similar frowns.

“Ah,” Badgerfang ducked his head bashfully, ears folding, “I mean- all CopperClan cats gather for a clan meeting! And our allies- our friends in LeopardClan and WindClan are more than welcome to join us.”

Cats began to gather underneath the shadow of the Tallrock, murmuring curiously amongst each other. Even Mudclaw’s ruffled pelt soothed, the tom settling beside his mate, Sorrelshine, and trading quick words.

CopperClan was the most curious, their ears perked. Blossomtail talked excitedly to Quietfoot and Turtlefur, loud enough that Dawncloud could overhear her son’s happy chatter about how Badgerfang was calling a meeting like a true clan leader, and didn’t he look so handsome on the rock like that?

Dawncloud purred quietly to herself.

Nightpaw trailed just behind the other young cats. She was a full-grown cat, past twelve moons even at the start of her apprenticeship, having been a loner who had joined them alongside her brother Wildpaw, yet she still looked innocent and naive as she stared up at Badgerfang in curiosity, ignorant to what was happening.

“What’s all this about?” called Wolfstep, the gray tom bold enough to ask. Fernshade sat beside him and Ashheart.

Badgerfang just smiled down at the senior warrior, unbothered by the inquiry. “Today, we celebrate something special,” Badgerfang announced. Then, he hesitated, gaze flickering. He took a deep breath, then continued, head bowed just slightly, “We have suffered great losses recently… We will mourn Flintfang for many moons to come, and honor him as a selfless warrior who died protecting his clan. And, an honor I know he would enjoy greatly is the naming of an apprentice into a warrior.”

His gaze drifted to Nightpaw, who stiffened, eyes going wide. “M-me?” she stuttered out, mouth gaping. “But I- I’ve hardly-”

“I’ve talked with your mentor,” Badgerfang glanced at Dawncloud, sitting at the base of Tallrock beside Tallstar and Deadfoot, “and we both agree you fought valiantly in battle, and you stood up against Tigerstar’s tyranny just as all of us have done. You are more than deserving of a warrior name. Ah,” a beat of hesitance again, “please, step forward.”

Nightpaw blinked, mouth still gaping, until Turtlefur nudged her, the pale tortoiseshell smiling at her friend. Slowly, the black she-cat rose to her paws and padded forward, eyes blown wide as she walked to the front of the gathered cats. She looked at Dawncloud, and Dawncloud nodded at her, mouthing, “You can do this.” Then she pointedly jerked her head up.

Nightpaw raised her head high, relaxing her shoulders, and staring with nervous yellow eyes up at Badgerfang.

Badgerfang opened his mouth, and it hung open for a moment as he stared blankly ahead. Then, he closed his mouth and took a deep breath, smiling apologetically down at Nightpaw, “I’ll admit,” he said, voice cracking nervously, “I’m not sure I know how to do this right-”

“Well, that’s okay,” Nightpaw meowed, “because I don’t know how this works either.”

Purrs of laughter erupted throughout the clans, cats trading amused looks.

Badgerfang gave a light laugh, smiling, all bright teeth. Then, as the clancats quieted, he took a deep breath, raising his head towards the sky. “StarClan,” he said, “I- I call upon you to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to become a warrior. Uh- Nightpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code, and to protect your clan, even at the cost of your life?”

He stared intently down at Nightpaw, voice becoming more confident as he spoke.

Nightpaw swallowed, then raised her head. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

“Then I give you your warrior name. Nightpaw, from this moment on, you will be known as…” Badgerfang paused, a brief startled look flashing over his face, but he quickly continued, “Nightwing. I- StarClan honors you for the bravery, loyalty, and compassion you have given to this clan, and what we stand for.”

“Nightwing,” Dawncloud repeated quietly under her breath. It was perfect.

The sleek black she-cat raised her head and tail high, eyes shining like the sun above. Her smile was infectious and bright, and Dawncloud couldn’t stop the purr that left her chest. Nightwing. Her apprentice- something she never imagined having- was a warrior now. A warrior. A warrior she trained. Even despite all of Copperleaf and Ashheart and Tallpoppy and everyone else’s reassurances that was doing good, she still felt like she had been messing up Nightp- Nightwing’s training.

Nightwing was a grown cat, and a smart one at that.

Sometimes Dawncloud still felt like a small kit, being called a warrior even when she hadn’t shed her kit-fluff and was hardly bigger than the kits of the nursery.

How could she “boss” around Nightwing? She hadn’t felt like a good mentor at all.

But Nightwing was always calm and patient and so eager to learn. She picked up on how to fight and hunt like a warrior incredibly easy.

Dawncloud was proud of Nightwing, and proud of herself.

She trained Nightwing.

She did it, something she’d thought impossible and daunting and nerve-wracking.

Oh, if only she could talk to little Dawnkit now and tell her all the good things in life.

There was a small cough from the crowd. Badgerfang jolted. “Oh, right!” With a sheepish smile, he clambered down Tallrock, reaching out to rest his muzzle on Nightwing’s head. She startled, blinking, and Badgerfang murmured something into her ear. She smiled, then stretched her tongue out to lick his shoulder respectfully.

As Badgerfang stepped back, yowls filled the air. Dawncloud smiled as the clans chanted, “Nightwing! Nightwing!” She watched as her now former apprentice’s face lit up with delight. The yelling was a bit much to Dawncloud, and always had been, but she still enjoyed the way it always seemed to give the new warriors (when ShadowClan had called her name, all she’d felt was fear).

Blossomtail, Turtlefur, and Quietfoot were quick to rush up to the newly-named CopperClan warrior. And so were Reedwhisker and Dawnflower of LeopardClan, congratulating Nightwing excitedly. Primroseleaf trailed after her clanmates, frowning like she was annoyed, but a smile broke through her facade when Nightwing excitedly called to her.

Even stoic Leopardfur called out the new warrior’s name, a small smile on her lips as she hung back beside Stonefur and Mosspelt.

Dawncloud got to her feet, padding forward and ducking her head as she slid past the other cats. Blossomtail saw her coming and grinned, bumping Turtlefur so she moved out of the way. Dawncloud smiled gratefully at her son. As she stopped in front of Nightwing, the she-cat looked almost nervously at her, yet grinned brightly.

Dawncloud smiled.

“I’m proud of you.”

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

Wiggling his bottom, the black tom-kit pounced forward, tiny paws slamming onto the beetle, crunching it beneath his weight. But then his hindlegs caught up with his front, and he fell onto his face with an oomph!

Scourge scrunched his nose.

“And we’re sure it’s old enough to be weaned?”

Bone shrugged beside him. “Most of the kits this small survive without their mothers.” He paused. “I think.”

“Hmm,” Scourge said, rising to his paws. He stepped forward, stretching a paw out to touch the kit’s head, lifting it up.

When the little kit’s yellow gaze met his pale one, his whole face lit up with bright, white teeth. “Scwourge!” he squeaked, saying such a fierce and fear-striking name far too stupidly. “Did you see, did you see! I caught it!”

“Yes,” Scourge said, voice clipped as he stared down at the kit. “I did.”

Then the kit sneezed, and Scourge recoiled backwards as though clawed. His lip curled.

“I thought the horse-plant fixed that,” he hissed.

“Maybe he needs more,” Bone suggested.

Scourge bared his fangs, displeased. “We don’t have more to spare. …We’ll need to send another patrol out into the forest to gather some.”

“ShadowClan won’t be pleased to see us on their territory,” Bone commented.

Scourge flicked his tail tip dismissively. “They won’t see us right under their noses. They never do. And they call themselves warriors.”

Outside commotion reached Scourge’s ears, making them perk. He twisted his head around right as Night leaped up to the top box and slipped past the cardboard flaps. “Scourge!” she hissed. “The forest cats are back.”

Bone growled, but Scourge hardly moved a muscle. “I knew they wouldn’t stay away long,” he said, voice clipped. “They’re like rats in that way- they never know when to stay away, and they bring their diseases with them.” Then, he rose to his feet, stretching. “Very well. Let’s see what the rats have to say.”

“Night!” squealed the little kit as he darted forward eagerly. “Let’s play!”

Night hissed at him, lip curling. “Warriors don’t play!”

The little kit stumbled back onto his haunches, blinking up at her. The fur on Night’s shoulders smoothed, and she murmured to him, “Later.”

The little kit smiled, fangs shining. Scourge narrowed his eyes, but said nothing, walking past Night with Bone just behind him. He was greeted with the sight of his cats spread out through the alley they called their camp, hissing and glaring at the intruding forest cats.

“They think they own this city!” yowled Fury, dark brown tabby fur bristling to twitch her side as she glared with one-eye down at the unwelcome intruders. “I think it’s about time we showed them some manners!”

Others yowled their agreement, snarling out variations of, “Yeah! Stinking forest kitties!” and “Claw their eyes out!” A few inched closer, teeth snapping warningly at the huddled group of clancats.

Scourge didn’t speak, letting his cats quiet around him as he strolled towards the forest cats.

“Brother,” he greeted coldly, staring directly into the green eyes of his unfortunate bright ginger-furred kin. “Sister,” he added, glancing at the brown tabby she-cat and vaguely remembering her name. What a pain in his tail she had caused. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Scourge.” Fireheart- star? Clan cats and their strange names. Firestar dipped his head towards Scourge, and Scourge raised his chin up, pleased. Had his detested half-brother finally learned his place? “We come to ask for your assistance in the war.”

Scourge narrowed his eyes, looking at the ginger tom. Then, at his brown and white tabby sister beside him- Creekflower, or something. There were three other cats with them. One tall white tom with calm yellow eyes, a pale tabby tom with dark stripes, and a short, dusky-pale brown she-cat who looked vaguely familiar. The cat who had been injured when the clancats had first stepped first into BloodClan territory.

Scourge looked into Firestar’s determined eyes, finding a hint of nerves in them- in the way his tail tip flicked to Creekflower’s for comfort, in the way his eyes tried to study Scourge for hints.

Scourge tipped his chin up again.

“No,” he said, and turned around.

“Wh-” Firestar’s eyes widened, and he stepped forward. “But you haven’t even listened to what we have to say!”

“And why should I?” Scourge looked over his shoulder at him, annoyed more than anything. Clancats. They thought the whole world revolved around them and their petty drama, didn’t they?

Bone and Night flanked his sides, hissing warningly at Firestar when he neared. Night gave a particularly heated glare at her mother, returned only with half-anger, half-sorrow by Creekflower’s conflicted expression. The rest of his cats began to prowl closer, eager to sink their claws into the intruders’ pelts.

Scourge raised his tail just slightly, enough for his cats to freeze, waiting for orders from their leader.

He didn’t miss the displeased hiss from Fury, though.

“What can you offer me that Thistlestar and Tigerstar did not already offer?” Scourge continued.

Firestar paused. “You’re still on their side?” he questioned. “But- you attacked Thistlestar, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Scourge said, feeling an icy anger chill his veins. His claws curled into the scratchy earth below. He’d split blood- but not the blood he’d wanted. So close to watching the life drain from his father’s face, and yet Thistlestar had managed to get the upper hand… It burned the cold in Scourge’s veins with humility.

It was not a feeling he enjoyed, and one he sought to snuff out immediately.

“You think I was ever really on their side? Is it not obvious my loyalty is only to my own clan? How many times must I teach you this lesson?” Scourge looked at Firestar disapprovingly. “Yet you keep crawling back.”

And he would snuff it out by keeping the clancats out of his business. Promised territory in the forest be damned.

The fur on Firestar’s back began to bristle. Scourge would admit, he did enjoy how easy it was to get under his brother’s skin.

But it was the white tomcat who spoke next.

“You want to kill our father as much as we do.”

Scourge looked at the white warrior, raising a brow as he glanced him up and down. “Our?”

The white tom raised his chin high, yellow eyes narrowed and glinting. Muscles rippled powerful underneath the dull white of his short-furred yet spiky fur.

“Thistlestar has caused all of us grief and suffering. He has never cared what others think or want- he only does what serves him best. He will hurt others, and he won’t stop hurting others unless we stop him. Your attempt at vengeance on him- he will not forget it so soon.” The white tom kept his gaze locked on Scourge’s. “Nor will you.”

Scourge stared back at him.

“And who are you?” he asked curiously, voice a drawl, but sharp.

“I am Whitestorm,” answered the warrior, unwavering. “Deputy of ThunderClan, and the first son of Thistlestar, though I dare not call him my father anymore. He lost that right long ago.”

Scourge narrowed his eyes. “Hm,” he said. Another sibling, he thought, annoyed at the idea. I must be related to half of the forest kitties. Joy.

Scourge did not believe in silly things like destiny, but perhaps this shared blood was a reason the forest cats kept slinking into his life like gnats he couldn’t quite swat away.

Did his siblings always have to keep showing up on his doorstep, demanding things of him? How pathetic. How pitiful.

He should have turned away Socks and Ruby when they had first come crawling to him. Instead of giving them food- just to show them that he controlled whether they ate or not, and should be grateful for his hospitality, regretful for how they had treated him- he should have ordered their deaths then and there.

Because, apparently, word had gotten out that Scourge was merciful towards annoying, sniveling siblings.

Which wasn’t true, because now Socks and Ruby were out starving on the streets, alone.

(Though that wasn’t quite true either- Socks had apparently found some housefolk he was cozying up to, and Ruby had learned how to hunt rats for herself. Not that Scourge was keeping tabs on them, or anything.)

“We all hate Thistlestar and Tigerstar,” Whitestorm continued calmly, despite his undertone of anger. “We all want to protect our respective clans from their rule or destruction. If you fight alongside us instead of them, you can get your revenge. Thistlestar’s death will be yours.”

Scourge’s eyes flickered to Firestar, noting how the tom seemed to have stiffened, watching Whitestorm and Scourge trade words with an almost pained expression. Pained, but hardened. Waiting for an answer.

The other ThunderClan cats all wore upset frowns, their tail tips flicking, clearly displeased Scourge hadn’t bent over backwards to help them already. How entitled. And impatient. They lacked discipline.

Scourge looked back at Whitestorm. “I can get my revenge whenever I so choose,” he growled, only a little bit defensive as he reflected on his failed attempt. His tail flicked irritatedly before he stiffened it. “All it takes is a little bit of waiting in the shadows.”

Whitestorm narrowed his eyes onto Scourge, and Scourge’s whiskers twitched.

“But you don’t want to kill him from the shadows,” Whitestorm pointed out skillfully. “You want him to know it’s you who's killing him. You want him to suffer.”

Scourge stared at the tom, unmoving.

…Whitestorm stared back, yellow eyes unblinking.

Scourge prided himself on having a mask so cold and emotionless that no cat could tell what he was really thinking- no cat could predict what he would do.

And here this… deputy was. Looking at him and seeing straight through the mask, to the hot anger beneath the cold that Scourge let make a home in his heart.

Annoying.

“I can make him suffer on my own,” Scourge argued coolly instead of giving his older brother the answer he wanted. He wouldn’t give him the smug satisfaction of victory. No one was allowed to win but Scourge. “I don’t need forest kitties’ help. There is nothing else you can offer me. Unless you want to give up some of your territory to me, of course. Perhaps, then, we might have a deal.”

He looked at Firestar, who scowled, indecisive.

Creekflower and the pale tabby tom traded a frowning look, while the pale brown she-cat scowled, grumbling under her breath. Something about this being a waste of time.

Which it was. Truly, ThunderClan had nothing to give Scourge- for Scourge had already taken from them what he wanted. Though he had had to cast out the weaker of the two, he had gained a perfect, loyal warrior in the form of Night.

…Hm.

Perhaps there was something.

Scourge tilted his head. “Or,” he said, dragging the pause out as the ThunderClan cats looked at him, abruptly hopeful, though cautiously so, “there is one favor you could do for me.”

Firestar’s ears flicked, intrigued, but wary. “What is it?”

“Spottedleaf joins my clan, as our healer.”

There was an outbreak of hissing from many cats- notably Fury and those around her- while other BloodClan warriors murmured, pleased at the idea, certainly not forgetting how she had magically cured their ails when she was here.

And though Scourge had expected an uproar from the ThunderClan cats, there was none.

Instead, they all flinched back as though attacked, eyes going wide. Creekflower gasped, the pale tabby gaped, and the pale brown she-cat hissed. Firestar’s ears pinned against the side of his head, and one paw raised, curling towards his chest as though stung. The fur along his spine even prickled, deeply upset.

Even the strong deputy Whitestorm broke, face falling and confident tail dropping.

A curious reaction. Scourge narrowed his eyes, waiting for one of them to speak.

Finally, Firestar found his voice, bowing his head as he cleared his throat.

“Spottedleaf is… dead,” he croaked, voice cracking. “She died during the battle.”

Scourge went quiet for a moment.

…Spottedleaf, dead?...

…A pity.

But life was cruel, a lesson Scourge had long ago learned under the name Tiny, and now Scourge was determined to be crueler.

“Very well then,” he said, turning back around. “Then there truly is nothing you can offer me.”

“Wait!” Firestar called, darting forward. “You said you need her as a healer- what do you need healed? I- Spottedleaf taught me all I know… Perhaps I can help you.”

Scourge looked at him. Despite his moments-ago grief, his eyes shined with confidence and his tail stood high. There was still desperation leaking at the edges- but…

Scourge met Night’s gaze and nodded. She understood him, bowing her head. She rushed off, expertly leaping up the cardboard tower. She slipped into the highest den, and came back out with a black-furred bundle thumping against her chest as it hung from her teeth. She bounded down, skidding to a stop beside Scourge. Gently, she lowered the kit to the ground.

The little kit blinked with wide eyes up at the forest cats standing in front of him, his rump on the ground and back paws sticking up.

Firestar stared at the little kit in just as much surprise. His gaze flicked up to Scourge, mouth slightly ajar, then he asked, with the utmost surprise, “Is he yours?”

Scourge startled, a full-body kind of startle he hadn’t been expecting, ears flicking backwards and eyes widening a smidge before he plastered a scowl over his face. “He is not,” he answered, voice clipped. To think that he would think that- the powerful Scourge was not a cat who would ever have kits. No, he trained warriors. “He is sick.”

Firestar looked back at the kit, crouching down and leaning his face forward to sniff at him. The little kit leaned backwards, nearly toppling over before he scrambled to his paws and quickly hid himself behind Scourge’s front paws, kitten fluff brushing softly against the back of Scourge’s legs.

And then he sneezed again, and Scourge quickly stepped away, raising his paw and feeling a wave of disgust rush through him as he felt the snot on his white fur. He shook it, then looked at Firestar. “So?”

Firestar got to his paws again. “It- it sounds like a normal cold,” he said. “He should just need some feverfew or borage for a quarter-moon or so.”

“Well, we don’t have any,” Scourge said, a bit miffed that he hadn’t remembered the names for either of those things. Or what they looked like.

“We have plenty to spare,” Firestar responded, lighting up a bit. “We can give you as much as you need, and, in return, you will fight by our side for the next battle.”

Creekflower let out a disagreeing hiss, shifting and raising her head. “We can’t give away our herbs,” she protested. “We’re suffering a lot of injuries already and- and we’re down a medicine cat.” Her voice wobbled pathetically, though only slightly. “We can’t spare-”

“We can spare borage,” Firestar answered. “Willowpelt doesn’t need to produce milk anymore, and Sandstorm-” Now, he hesitated, before he shook himself. “Sandstorm’s milk is just fine.”

“And if we have more queens?” Creekflower said stubbornly. Scourge wouldn’t let his warriors be so defiant.

“We need BloodClan’s numbers on our side,” Firestar said instead, avoiding the question. “We can spare the borage. There will be more come newleaf.”

Creekflower opened her mouth to protest, but it was Night who hissed. "Your leader is speaking," she snipped. "And now you threaten to undermine his deal? How disrespectful and rat-brained."

Creekflower stared at Night, mouth wide, before it turned into a scowl, her tail slowly lashing back and forth. But her mouth snapped shut. Besides her, the pale tabby startled, looking at Night as though seeing her for the first time. He leaned towards Creekflower, whispering, "Is she… one of yours?"

Scourge narrowed his eyes. Night was one of his now, but whatever- he could care less for the family drama.

He turned his attention back towards Firestar, tilting his chin up. "Give us the borage, and we will fight by your side," Scourge said, then flexed his claws. "And Thistlestar will die by my claws, and no one else's."

Firestar dipped his head to Scourge. He seemed almost… relieved. As though he, perhaps, did not wish to be the one to kill Thistlestar, despite Whitestorm claiming they all hated him.

Somewhere behind them, the distinct hiss of Fury echoed. "Some little leaves for our forces?" she growled. "Is that all our strength is worth?!"

Scourge raised his tail for silence, and was given another angry hiss in return. He would have to deal with that later.

"There is a Gathering in two days," Firestar said. "We will bring the borage to you tomorrow. In return, if you and some of your warriors could attend the Gathering with us…" He tipped his head down. "There is a truce at the Gathering- no fighting. But, I fear Thistlestar and Tigerstar won't be keen to keep it…"

Scourge's eyes flashed. Neither will I, he thought privately. Outloud, he said, "It's a deal, brother. BloodClan is at your service."

LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK LINE BREAK

She shivered, shaking a paw out and watching the black-brown gunk fly. It was like wet mud, but it smelled ten times worse, and stained her pretty, shiny pelt. The acrid scent invaded her nostrils, painfully so, making her wrinkle her nose.

She glanced up, and noticed with a skip of her heart beat that she was falling behind. She raced forward, sucking in quick breaths, her lungs feeling as exhausted as her legs.

She stepped in rat dung and jolted. She looked forlornly at her paw, but then there was a strange roar nearby, and her fur fluffed up. She glanced warily around, ears pinned against her head.

Twoleg dens towered over her, blocking out the night sky and hiding all the stars behind strange, tall sticks with yellow lights on them.

Dog barks erupted in the distance, and she jumped again.

"Lightningfur," she called nervously, darting after her mentor, a dark streak amongst the shadows. "Where are we going?"

The tortoiseshell turned a corner, the dark water staining her ginger patches as dark as the black of the rest of her fur.

The howl of a dog in hunt greeted Featherpaw's ears. She shook her pelt out, droplets hitting the ground, and followed after her mentor.

3̸̨̼͙̱̻͉͉͎͉̦͙̣̫̹͍̆̌̋͋͌̽̉́̒͑͝

Oh my GOD

The s e c o n d I found out the fic updated……

AO3 is down for maintenance….💀

rip 😔

#lolling rb #chapter 168 #the interwar #the countdown #the countdown continues #bt chapters #bt chapter #flamestar456

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