overgrowth-wc

[overgrowth-wc]

PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER SEVEN

IT FILLS YOU WITH...

Littlesong is a reluctant subscriber to the sunk cost fallacy. Too late to back out now, the only way out is through.

               “Uh, Mr. Dandelion?”

               Littlesong looked up from his slumped position, smoothing his annoyed expression into a more pleasant smile as he recognized Goose was the one interrupting his attempt at a nap- he had grown fond of the kitten during his time with Whistler’s colony. The warrior was fitting in well, generally well liked by the other cats here, but he seemed to have drawn the devoted admiration of Goose in particular. The gray tom was Lilac and Bear’s only child, still just a walking ball of fluff at this point, his kit blue eyes wide and wondering at everything he saw. Littlesong was unsure why Goose clung to him so much instead of his own father, but given Bear’s personality, maybe it wasn’t such a mystery after all. The tom was even more of a- well, bear, lately, having been bitten by a rat on his foot a night or two ago, now limping around camp and snapping even more frequently than usual.

               “Hello, young gosling. What can I do for you?” The warrior asked, giving the kit a friendly blink. Goose offered him a shy smile in return.

               “Um,” he peeped, “uh, well, you know how to fight, right?” This time, Littlesong’s blink was more confused than anything. He nodded, prompting the kit to go on. Goose swallowed hard. “Well, I heard Father speaking to Mr. Whistler,” a brief flicker of panic, “I wasn’t eave- eves- I wasn’t sneaking, or nothing,” Goose assured Littlesong, seeming afraid to get in trouble for eavesdropping. “They were outside the den! And the walls are thin! But, um, Father said that we need more fighters, and that you’re really good, and well… would you teach me?” Littlesong tried to not let his feelings show on his face. Goose wasn’t even fully weaned yet, and here he was, trying to learn how to fight, simply because it might make his father happy.

               “Well,” Littlesong hedged, trying to put it delicately, “I feel like right now you’re still a bit too young…” Oh no, not that look of disappointment. Goose practically wilted, little ears pinned and eyes downcast. You’re too soft, you big pushover, the warrior scolded himself, but he was already opening his big dumb mouth. “But,” and here Goose shot back up, “I’m sure there’s something neat I could show you.”

               “Oh, thank you Mr. Dandelion,” the kit said earnestly, kneading the ground in his excitement. “I’ll be the best kit you ever taught, promise!” Ugh, that’s adorable. Littlesong hadn’t ever really wanted kits, but if they were all as cute and earnest as Goose… he could see the appeal. Then he remembered the terror his sister was as a kitten, and that burgeoning thought was summarily dismissed.

               “Alright, first, let’s see what you got,” Littlesong instructed, mimicking the tone Piketail had always used. “Show me your best crouch.” Goose immediately dropped, belly hitting the ground, tail straight up, brow furrowed, and bright pink tongue stuck out in concentration. He was practically quivering in his attempt to stay still. Littlesong did his best not to laugh. “Good job!” He praised instead. “Just a few little adjustments.” He carefully nudged Goose into a proper form, mindful of the fact his paw was almost the size of the kit’s body. A minute later, the gray kit was in a decent approximation of a standard hunter’s crouch. “Now, here, pretend my tail is the enemy,” Littlesong said seriously, sweeping his puffy golden tail around so the tip flicked just a few steps from Goose. “What would you do to attack?” It seemed the little tom had good instincts, as he took a few clumsy but careful pawsteps forward then pounced, immediately wrapping his paws around his tail, letting loose a flurry of bunny kicks. Thank the ancestors, the warrior’s fur was too thick for him to feel anything. “Excellent, you really know what you’re doing!” Littlesong said, gently drawing his tail out of the kitten’s grip.

               “Really? I did it right?” Goose squeaked, seeming like he hardly dared to believe it.

               “Of course! Now, here’s a move for you.” Littlesong vaguely remembered his own father teaching this to him, Lionfoot a hazy figure in his mind. “Most anybody you’re going to fight is going to be much bigger than you right now. Like me- if you were trying to fight me, would you be able to do what you did with my tail?” Goose shook his head. “That’s right. So I’ll show you what you should do instead. But,” he mewed seriously, fixing the kitten with a firm look. “I never want you fighting unless you have no other choice, alright? The best thing until you get bigger is to hide, or find your mother, or another grown cat you know.” Littlesong wasn’t sure if he had been too harsh, as Goose’s eyes grew wide and he shrunk back a little, but the kit nodded seriously. Good. The last thing Littlesong needed was Goose sneaking out and picking fights- he’d be out on his tail in a heartbeat.

               “I promise,” Goose squeaked. Good enough.

“Alright, here’s what you do…” Littlesong taught Goose how to land a solid swipe, showing him the more sensitive areas he could target and wincing when Goose landed an enthusiastic blow across his nose, leaving three little lines of blood. Goose was mortified, on the brink of tears even, and it took a lot of reassurance and expressions of pride before he calmed down. By the time Lilac came calling, Goose had a good grasp on how to land a blow, and the predawn light was washing everything out, making the kit look even more like just a ball of down.

               “There you are,” Lilac said, trying to hide the panic in her tone. Uh oh, Littlesong thought. She didn’t know Goose was out here. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Dandelion,” the queen said, drawing her son close with a shaky paw. “I didn’t- Slip was supposed to be watching him.” Littlesong just managed to keep from rolling his eyes. Slip was a very irresponsible young tom who seemed much more interested in preening in front of the colony’s mollies than anything involving work, or, dare he say it, responsibility. No wonder Goose managed to sneak away- a dog could walk through camp and Slip wouldn’t notice.

               “It’s really no worry,” Littlesong said jovially, sending Goose a wink. “Your son is already shaping up to be a fine young tom. Quite the fighter, too!” The warrior was perhaps overly kind when it came to Lilac, trying to emulate the way Splashpaw handled a flighty patient. Honestly, he felt bad for the young queen. They were about the same age, less than halfway through their second year, and already she had a child- while not completely untoward, by Riverclan standards that was terribly young. Lilac also tended to be high strung, muscles slightly tense, eyes always darting around like she expected a blow at any second. Honestly, he didn’t know why she was with Bear. A small, worried part of him felt like she didn’t have much choice.

               So. You know, given the position he was in, he really couldn’t do anything about it, so he just tried to be nice to the little family when he saw them. They were both very sweet once they relaxed a little.

               “I’m sorry Mama, but Slip is boring.” Goose protested.

               “Mr. Slip,” Lilac corrected. “Be polite.” The warrior tried not to snort. She didn’t push the boring part.

               “Okay, Mr. Slip is boring,” the kit repeated, Littlesong’s whiskers twitching as he tried to conceal a smile. “And, and, Mr. Dandelion is really nice, and he showed me a cool trick! I’ll keep you safe, Mama, I promise!” Both the adults couldn’t help but melt a bit at that, Lilac’s shoulders relaxing as she gave Goose an affectionate lick.

               “Thank you darling, I’m sure you will.” She purred, gaze flicking once more to Littlesong. “Thank you for teaching him, Mr. Dandelion.”

               “Of course,” he returned, dipping his head. “And just Dandelion is more than fine.” He gave her a friendly blink, which she returned with a hesitant smile, but she said nothing else, just ushering Goose back to the empty box that made up their den, matching gray pelts melting into the early haze. Shaking himself, Littlesong stretched with a yawn. This more nocturnal schedule had been odd at first, but now the sight of the dawn just made him tired. Well, that had always made him tired- Riverclanner’s weren’t fond of mornings, after all. But now it made him tired in a ‘it’s time to go to sleep’ kind of way, not an ‘ugh I don’t want to get up’ way, so he headed off to the little corner he had claimed for himself, curled up in the ratty blanket that formed his nest, and quickly fell asleep.

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               Littlesong awoke to the murmur of his colony mates, waking to head out for the night. Just the barest hint of orange tinted the sky, signaling that it was time to get started. With a jaw cracking yawn, Littlesong forced himself out of bed, idly scratching behind his ear. Another weird thing about this place was that everything was very loosely organized. No hunting patrols, very informal border patrols- really, cats mostly did what they wanted unless Whistler told them otherwise. The only real expectation was to chase out any interlopers and bring back at least one piece of prey by the end of the night, so that the queens, kits, and elderly cats could eat. Right now, that was just Lilac, Goose, and Grady, an old tom who acted as a sort of advisor to Whistler. Grady was functionally blind at this point, eyes milky with cataracts, the tom creaking around instead of walking, and was so obviously incapable of caring for himself nobody complained about hunting for the old tabby. Littlesong, having the Clan instinct to care for all elderly, made sure to bring Grady the best prey he could find. It definitely had endeared him to the old tom, which might come in handy later.

               The warrior trotted towards the fence, nodding to Whistler as he went, the leader surveying his base camp from his typical perch atop the dumpster. When Whistler simply nodded back, Littlesong climbed up the chain link fence and dropped down the other side, off to start his night. The base camp was tucked away in the corner of an abandoned lot, a haphazard stack of broken-down wood, metal, and other debris forming a barrier between it and the rest of the space. A dumpster was tucked away into that mess, which was where Whistler slept most of the time. Other boxes and such pushed up against the fence formed the bulk of where most cats slept, Littlesong included, and the easiest way in and out of the base camp was to simply climb the fence and jump down the other side. Better than picking through the death trap that was the garbage barrier, anyway. Casually glancing around, Littlesong set off at an amble, the very picture of nonchalance. He wandered through the alleys, grabbing a mouse for himself, and as he came to a quiet road, lined with houses, he stopped, ears pricked and mouth open. He was mostly sure he hadn’t been followed, and nothing smelled or sounded suspicious. Still, he ducked into a yard through a gap in its wooden fence, rolling in some smelly plants to disguise his own scent. Littlesong then carefully snuck through the backyards until he came to a red brick house, its white fence faded and peeling. There, crouched in the bushes, was Piketail.

               “Psst,” Littlesong hissed, trying to keep a straight face as Piketail visibly startled. “It’s me, relax!”

               “You’re getting too good at sneaking,” Piketail complained, but Littlesong caught the glimmer of pride in his amber eye. “Scared me half to death.” The golden tom ignored the grumblings with ease, settling down beside Piketail with a purr. While technically Littlesong was supposed to report to Gorsestorm, who would then formally disseminate the information to the other Clans, Littlesong also tried to keep Piketail in the loop. He hadn’t been able to see his old mentor that much when he first joined the colony, which was why he’d been unaware of Sparkpaw’s kidnapping, but now he was trying to help Shadowclan find the apprentice as well as hunt down Featherfall. “Any news?” Littlesong hesitated.

               “Sort of- I know they’re moving him periodically, but I don’t know where, or if the timing is intentional or random, or…” He trailed off. It was frustrating, to be honest, trying to figure out about something he shouldn’t know while trying to hide the fact that he very much did. Littlesong had gleaned that Sparkpaw was being moved from overhearing Slip complain about guard duty- the ginger tom had been grumbling about first there, now over here, next thing you know it’ll on the other side of Town, all for some stupid brat. Littlesong was really hoping that he would be picked for guard duty soon. Whistler had given him a few tasks, all of which he had completed successfully, and had been speaking about giving Littlesong more responsibilities. Typically one to shy away from such phrases, the warrior only hoped that in this situation, that would translate to something helpful for the Clans. Something that would get him, and Sparkpaw, home as quickly as possible.

               “Well, that would make sense.” Piketail sighed, looking exhausted. “Stars forbid they make this easy for us.” Littlesong couldn’t help but feel bad for his old mentor. Piketail was easily stressed out, the worrywart, and the tension in Shadowclan was obviously weighing on him. He had told Littlesong that keeping Rosestar and Emberpaw under control was a full-time job at this point, Marshfoot, Pinenose, and Crowcall busy trying to keep them from exploding. “I have some bad news, of course- there was another fight in the Town yesterday, near where Turtledove is. None of our warriors are badly hurt, but Marshfoot is pushing for us to stay out of the Town entirely. At least until we have a definitive plan on getting Sparkpaw back.” Littlesong tried not to show how panicked the news made him, but he had never been good at hiding things from Piketail. His old mentor narrowed his eye, but his expression was mostly sympathetic. “You’ll be more than fine, Littlesong. You’ve only seen me, what, four or five times since you went in?”

               “This is the sixth,” he interrupted. Piketail huffed.

               “Which is not that much- I’ll still try to see you, of course, but it’s better for both of us if I’m not around as often. Stars forbid you get caught meeting with me, it’ll blow the whole operation.” Littlesong wanted to point out that there was nothing connecting him to Turtledove, and that she seemed perfectly capable of handling this on her own, and really, why was he even here? But that wouldn’t help right now, and he was too far in to back out, so he just swallowed hard and tried to find some courage deep down.

               “Alright,” he said, and okay, it came out entirely too petulant, but the depths hadn’t had that much courage to offer. “You’re right, it- yeah, it’ll be more than fine.” Piketail was giving him that look again, the one where Littlesong couldn’t tell if he was concerned or disappointed or both, which made that uncomfortable guilt flare up. Well, time to deflect. “Speaking of fine, how’s Batflight?” It really was too easy. Piketail immediately began sputtering, ear twisting in embarrassment as a series of denials began, Littlesong content to grin and egg him on. He was happy for Piketail, he really was- if this level of protest showed anything, it was that his mentor definitely had a thing for the lanky molly, and she had obviously been showing her interest in him. And it was nice to have this moment with the older tom, teasing and light and a much-needed break from the stress of the past few weeks. Piketail finally managed to take a breath, pinning Littlesong with a Look.

               “You think you’re clever,” he grouched, but noticeably did not push the previous subject. “Anyway, I should probably head out.” Again, panic stirred up, and this time Piketail noticeably softened. “Don’t worry- let’s say we meet at the blue house a street over, the week after the Gathering? It’ll be long enough from now that hopefully things will have simmered down a bit.” Ugh, the Gathering was almost a week away, which meant, what, two weeks? At least I’ll see Gorsestorm and Turtledove before then. They were set to meet again the day after the Gathering, having just met a couple of days ago. Some consolation prize. Littlesong bid his goodbyes to Piketail, watching somberly as the tom disappeared over the fence, letting out a sigh as he set out himself.

               Honestly, he was at a loss on what to do tonight. Littlesong had to walk the fine line between being curious about his new home and being actively suspicious, which meant he had to take the time to act like a normal Town cat now and again. Hmmm… Slip and Twist had been talking about that house they went to for spars, over near the warehouse. Maybe he could go there? The other young toms liked him well enough, but he had fought them both in his entrance test and won- alright, well, his match with Twist had been a draw, but whatever- and it seemed like their pride had suffered from their defeat. So, while they were friendly to him, they hadn’t exactly offered to spend time with him. I should probably work on that- they would probably be the most likely to spill if they knew something. Especially Slip. Feeling better with a plan, Littlesong set off to try and find the house. He had a vague idea, but if he wanted to get there in enough time to enact said plan, he needed to hurry.

______________________________________________________________

               Littlesong arrived at the house in good time, having asked a stray he ran into for directions and following the scent of many yearlings to make sure he was in the right place. It was rowdy, which was probably typical given the nature of the crowd, Twist in the center of the room facing off against a massive gray tabby Littlesong hadn’t seen before. To his surprise, however, there was someone he recognized- Turtledove was fidgeting amongst a group of loud toms, Slip among them, all boasting and bragging between their cheers. Littlesong paused in the doorway, unsure of how to approach the situation, when Slip caught sight of him.

               “Hey, Dandelion, c’mere!” He called over the din. Littlesong, relieved, padded over, skirting the fight and coming to a stop before the group, an easy smile on his face. Meeting new cats had never been a problem for him, a boon in this place.

               “Hey Slip, I’m glad you’re here. I figured I’d come see what all this fuss is about.” It seemed his colony mate was eager to make it look like they were friends, as he introduced Littlesong to the group with gusto, including Turtledove, who he introduced as Spook.

               “Turtle, actually. I don’t know why Knot calls me that,” she interrupted, casting a quick glance over to Littlesong. “Nice to meet you, Dandelion.”

               “Charmed,” he replied with a smile, and Turtledove looked away, back towards the fight. Thankfully, nobody gave their interaction a second thought, and Littlesong happily settled in with the young crowd, quickly becoming caught up in the jovial atmosphere. The fight dragged on in front of them, and more and more of the crowd got impatient, and soon enough there were many rousing cries of come on, just end it! and hey now, give someone else a turn! The large tabby, responding to the demands, flipped Twist in one smooth maneuver, pinning him easily with one massive paw as the crowd counted down, cheering as the gray tom was declared the winner. Both Twist and the tabby nodded to each other, walking together over to Littlesong’s group.

               “Aw, you almost had him, Twist!” Littlesong said encouragingly, trying to be a supportive colony mate. If Twist was surprised he was there, he didn’t show it, just giving him a friendly nod.

               “Well, I don’t feel too bad- who can beat a beast like this guy, huh?” Twist gave the other tom a friendly shove, which he dramatically stumbled at. The gray tom then fixed Littlesong with an easy smile.

               “My name’s Knot,” he said, giving a friendly blink, which Littlesong returned.

               “Dandelion, pleased to meet you,” he chirped. Knot then gave a considering hum, looking Littlesong up and down.

               “Well, Dandelion, it’s your first time here, isn’t it?” He nodded. “Well then, tradition dictates you’ve gotta have a go! Here, why don’t you face off with Turtle?” There was a mischievous smile on Knot’s face, which Littlesong wondered at. Well, anyway, time to pull out those acting skills- he had to pretend he didn’t know Turtledove was a full-blown warrior and thus a solid opponent. He gave his fellow warrior a once over, sniffing like he was unimpressed with what he saw. Littlesong was a little worried that the irritation that flashed across her face was genuine- hopefully she knows I’m acting.

“If you’re sure that’s a good idea,” he drawled, arrogance bleeding off of him in his best impression of Goldenthorn, and Knot’s smile only grew bigger. Oh. He’s hoping she’ll kick my ass and embarrass me. Now, the Riverclanner hadn’t had a chance to square off against the calico during their brief training together, but he was actually looking forward to the opportunity. The old River-Thunder rivalry ran deep in his blood, and he couldn’t help the way his heart started racing at the idea of a fight. “Alright, Turtle, after you!” He gave a cheery bow, sweeping his tail to indicate she should go first. Turtledove stalked over to the ring with a huff, standing stiffly in the center as a black and white tom, the apparent announcer of this event, took his place beside her. Littlesong ambled over, chest puffed up and showing nothing but confidence. While there were a few cheers for him, Turtle definitely seemed to be the fan favorite. That’s probably not a good sign. The announcer cleared his throat.

               “Alright, we’ve got Turtle and-” he cast a glance at Littlesong.

               “Dandelion.”

               “Turtle and Dandelion up next! No claws, no blood, first to forfeit or be pinned for five seconds loses. Go easy on him Turtle, no one wants to see a grown tom cry.” There were a couple of oohs at the rib, and now Littlesong couldn’t help but be a little nervous. Turtledove couldn’t be that good, could she? I mean- “Begin!”

               Turtledove didn’t give him a moment to think. She lunged forward, darting around his reflexive blow to try and sneak behind him. Littlesong turned quickly, pivoting on his front foot so that he was now facing the calico, eyeing her critically. She was quick, and with her size she’d be interested in utilizing that speed to get past his defenses. Turtledove pushed forward again, swiping quickly at his face to try and get him to retreat, but he weathered the blow to his cheek so that he could offer a hit of his own, his much heavier swipe sending the molly sprawling. The crowd cheered and booed as he pressed his attack, trying to get Turtledove in a pin- he was so much heavier than her, if he could get a good grip on her it’d be over. Too bad for him, she was up in a flash, and she sprang away from him lightly. They both leapt towards each other, Littlesong expecting her to go high and dismayed to see instead she went low, slipping underneath him. She tried to rear up and unbalance him, but he was ready, rolling with the blow and coming back up on his feet. He found himself flashing back to his first real spar like this, his assessment against Darkwater- but then he saw the molly dead, her throat ripped out, eyes glazed and empty, and he wondered, briefly, if maybe he knew the cat who did it, now, oh stars, maybe they were here-

               He felt a weight on his back, and paws around his neck, and, unbalanced as he was, it was easy for Turtledove to wrench him to the side, and the tom fumbled as they went into a roll. The calico came out on top, both paws on his throat, and Littlesong knew he’d lost. No need to wait for the countdown- he tapped Turtledove’s side with a sigh, coming up with a rueful smile as the crowd cheered for their champion.

               “Good fight,” he rasped, and the other warrior nodded, turning back to their group. As they walked over together, though, her gaze flicked around the room, trying not to look at him.

               “You froze.” She said under her breath, eyes on her feet. Littlesong paused for a moment.

               “Darkwater.” Was all he murmured in reply. Everyone knew the names of those who died in that battle- Turtledove would know who he meant. They were at the group then, Littlesong forcing himself to laugh and joke with the other toms as they teased him for his loss, but when he chanced a look back over at Turtledove, he only saw understanding in her eyes.  

               “Excellent work, Spook!” Knot boomed, and Turtledove grimaced as he gave her a friendly nudge, which nearly knocked her off her feet. Littlesong snorted- so this is the tom she was complaining about. Turtledove had been sure to let Gorsestorm and him know about her main ally in her colony, as much as it pained her to. Twist turned to him then, complimenting the way he rolled with Turtledove’s attempt to unbalance him- apparently she had beaten Twist with that exact move- and Littlesong felt the last bit of tension leave him. His plan was working: if Slip and Twist started hanging out with him now, maybe it would be easier to achieve his goals and get back home. A little guilty part of him felt bad about using them, squirmy at being so disingenuous, but that’s why he was here. He thought about Splashpaw then, wanting him to be safe, about how hard Piketail had worked to bring Stonestar to justice, and finally about Darkwater, dead before her time, and felt a bit more resolve.

               “Come on, we should probably be heading back,” Twist said, waving his brother over and nodding at Littlesong. The warrior bid his goodbyes, ambling off with his colony mates, laughing and boasting as they went. Hopefully, this would be the start of his big break.

______________________________________________________________

               Littlesong did not expect said break to be so immediate.

               “Ah, Dandelion,” Whistler called as he dropped from the fence, a rat in his jaws, Slip and Twist thudding down beside him. The three toms had hunted on their way home, bring back a couple mice and a rat for the food pile and thus fulfilling their limited obligation. His companions departed with a respectful nod to Whistler, not even bothering to give Littlesong a curious glance as they left- whatever their boss wanted him for was none of their business, and it was unlikely they even cared to know. Littlesong put his rat down before offering his own greeting.

               “Evening, Boss.” He mewed, trying to keep his pelt from prickling with anticipation. “Need something?” Whistler nodded, looking around before jerking his head back towards his dumpster.

               “Have someone I want to introduce you to,” he murmured. “Bring the rat.” Littlesong did as he was told, following a few steps behind Whistler, trying to keep his thoughts in order. Really, he couldn’t be this lucky, surely it wasn’t who he thought it was-

               A dark gray molly was sitting atop Whistler’s dumpster, looking over the camp like she owned it. Even without her missing leg confirming it, Littlesong almost instinctively knew who it was. Featherfall. In all his imaginings on meeting the infamous criminal, the warrior hadn’t expected one thing- the almost brutal and burning hatred he felt at the sight of her. This was the molly who was responsible for all this misery, for Reedpelt and Darkwater’s deaths, for Splashpaw’s fear, for all the other tragedies the Clan’s had faced, and while Littlesong had been angry and determined to find her before, he had always been discomfited, and yes, he’d admit it, scared at the thought of her. But now, though, now that she was in front of him, a large part of him was screaming end it, end this, kill her now- and that was what scared him. Littlesong wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t courageous, or daring, or even confrontational on any level. Honestly, he had expected to fight down fear if or when he finally met her, not the desire to rip her to pieces.   

               It took every ounce of self-control and shred of acting ability to keep his fur flat, muscles relaxed, and expression distantly curious as he hopped up the trash beside the dumpster, following Whistler across it’s weirdly slick top to where Featherfall was sitting. She turned to face them both as they came to a stop beside her, Littlesong copying Whistler’s deferential nod, trying to ignore the churning in his gut. Those pale green eyes were stark in the low light, narrowed critically as Featherfall gave him a once over. It was then that Littlesong felt fear for the first time. Would she recognize him? Had she ever spotted him when she was lurking in Riverclan territory? Or would she be able to pin him as a Riverclanner anyway? He tried to keep his anxiety from showing, instead placing the rat down and offering a friendly smile.

               “Feather, this is Dandelion, our new colony member.” Whistler said. “Dandelion, this is Feather. She’s a close friend of our colony.” Littlesong forced himself to speak.

               “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He said, tone light but respectful.

               “It is very nice to finally meet you as well, Dandelion.” She returned, voice smooth and lower than he expected. “Whistler has told me much about you. He says you’ve become quite the asset to this colony.” Littlesong let his smile grow almost shy, glancing away.

               “Ah, that’s mighty kind of him. Really, he did me a favor, letting me join up.” He shot Whistler a grateful glance, the tom merely flicking an ear in acknowledgement. Featherfall hummed in response.

               “Well, given that you’ve settled in so nicely here, Whistler and I thought it was time to give you some more responsibility. Think you’re up to the task?” Littlesong straightened up, letting his chest puff out a bit, like he was proud of being given this opportunity. In reality, it was all that he could do to keep his tail from lashing in anticipation- this is what I’ve been waiting for.

               “Of course!” He mewed, then hesitated, abashed, “I mean, uh, yes ma’am, I’d be happy to help out more.” The warrior’s sheepish smile was perfect after a lifetime of use, and the blink Featherfall gave him was a mixture of amused and affectionate.

               “Excellent,” she purred. “What a blessing, to have such a fine young tom in the colony.” Littlesong preened a bit at the praise, as uncomfortable as it made him. If he didn’t know any better… she sounds just like any other senior warrior. “Now, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s been a bit of a problem with those forest cats, lately.” Littlesong blinked in an absently curious way.

               “Yeah, I’ve heard about some fights and stuff, near the park, right?” Featherfall nodded, seeming pleased.

               “Yes. Recently, we found a spy in our midst, a young tom- I fear that those swamp cats are looking to claim parts of the Town for themselves, and sent a scout to infiltrate us.” Oh boy, if only she knew. He let his brow furrow, irritation making his tail flick.

               “Don’t they have enough?” He complained, then ducked his chin. “Er, sorry. But that seems just… greedy, almost.” This was a common complaint he’d heard from other strays, who were irritated with Shadowclan’s lurking in the Town, especially during the winter months when times were hard for everyone.

               “I definitely think so,” Whistler grumbled, Featherfall nodding in agreement.

               “Exactly. Now, we caught this spy, of course, and have been holding him secure until we can figure out what to do with him.” She sighed regretfully. “I’d hate to have to hurt him, so right now, we’re using him as more of a bargaining chip against the forest cats. It’s been a bit difficult, trying to arrange a meeting with their boss, but I’m hoping for a breakthrough soon.” Littlesong nodded, expression now serious.

               “So, what can I do to help?” He asked, trying to rein in his eagerness. It bled through a bit, but it must have made Featherfall think he was eager to help her, as she gave him a wide smile.

               “I need strong fighters guarding his location. I worry that the forest cats will simply find him and take him back, which would leave us in the same position as before. Could we start assigning you to this role?” Time to lay it on thick. Littlesong puffed out his chest, not hiding his arrogance as he gave a grin.

               “I’d like to see them try to get past me,” he declared. “You can count on me, ma’am. It’s an honor, really.” Featherfall purred, seeming satisfied, and Whistler took the opportunity to clear his throat.

               “Alright then, boy, go see Bear. He’ll tell you where to go.” Wait, now? It’s almost dawn! Did they really expect him to go play babysitter after a full night out? He nodded, departing quickly, trying not to let his thoughts become too sullen. This is a good thing, he coached himself, padding over to the box that Bear, Lilac, and Goose lived in. The sooner you help find Sparkpaw and the sooner you report Featherfall, the sooner you can go home. Littlesong came to a stop outside the box, mouth open to call for Bear, when he heard a hiss from inside. He froze, ears pricked, wincing as he overheard what was being said. Goose is right- you don’t need to eavesdrop to hear what’s going on.

               “You act like he’s a newborn.” Bear was whispering furiously, presumably trying to not wake Goose. “He’s not made of glass!”

               “He’s not even weaned,” Lilac bit back, and Littlesong was surprised to hear the fire in her voice. “Honestly, Bear, you act like you want him out patrolling!”

               “The boy is old enough to start learning to care for himself.” Bear whispered, temper barely in check. “I was barely older than him when I was on my own. You were too!”

               “And I want better for my son.”

               “Our son.” Bear growled, and Littlesong was all too aware then that he was overhearing a very private argument. He backed up a few tail lengths, then started humming loudly, ambling back over to the box as if he were just strolling up. Once near the entrance, he called out a quiet greeting. There was a rustle, then Bear limped out, back paw held up gingerly, face set in a scowl as usual. “Dandelion.” He said stiffly. “Need something?”

               “Yeah, actually,” he replied, acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “Whistler said he wants me on this, uh, guard duty? And said to speak to you about it.” Relaxing minutely, Bear sighed, jerking his head towards the fence.

               “Well, if that’s what the Boss wants,” the tom mewed drily, leading Littlesong over to the edge of the base. “Here, I’ll have to show you. Don’t worry, it’s not too far.” Internally Littlesong was rolling his eyes, but externally he gave an agreeable mew, following obediently after the other tom, eyeing him carefully as they went. Bear was big- he must really resemble that forest creature he shared a name with. Littlesong had never seen a bear, of course, no Clan cat had in generations, but he knew they were big, brown, and surly, which fit his colony mate perfectly. They couldn’t move too fast given Bear’s injury, and Littlesong tried not to show how antsy he was as they went, just wanting to get there and be done with it. He was beginning to wonder if they’d ever arrive when they turned a corner and stumbled upon the last thing he expected to see in this place.

               Honestly, he groaned to himself, weeks of nothing, and now all this? Emberpaw was an all too familiar and all too unwelcome sight, the young molly looking at the two toms with wide, surprised eyes. Thank the ancestors, she had the presence of mind to not act like she recognized Littlesong, just bushing up her fur and arching her back with a hiss.

               “Who the hell are you, fuzzball?” Bear snarled, taking an aggressive step forward. Emberpaw simply spit, backing up a couple pawsteps. The brown tom sniffed the air, stiffening as he caught her scent. “A forest cat, huh?” He said lowly, casting Littlesong a sideway glance. “Get her.” The warrior didn’t think twice. He launched himself forward, landing just shy of where Emberpaw was, the tortoiseshell scrambling away with a surprised hiss. She bolted off, Littlesong following her with a yowl, Bear yelling behind him. The warrior couldn’t be too sure how well Bear could keep up, so he let Emberpaw lead him on a merry chase all the way back to the border of Town- I didn’t realize we were so close- where he finally caught up to her, tackling her with an oomph. They both went down, Littlesong using a heavy paw to pin her in place, scowling ferociously.

               “Are you insane?” He hissed, gaze darting around. “Are you trying to get kidnapped too?”

               “Shut up!” Emberpaw spat, teeth bared in a snarl. “I’m doing more than you are!” Oh, this little brat, Littlesong snarled to himself, letting loose a furious growl, even more angry when it did nothing to cow the apprentice.

               “Is that so?” He ground out, barely able to stop himself from shaking her. “Because I was just on my way to see where they’re keeping your brother, and now I’m here with you instead.” Emberpaw froze, green eyes wide. Littlesong snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. What are- actually, you know what, I don’t want to know. Is anybody with you?” She shook her head mutely. “Figures,” he sighed. Steeling himself, he gave Emberpaw a narrow look. “Now, scratch me.”

               “What?” She hissed, surprised. This time, the warrior couldn’t help his eyeroll.

               “Scratch me, it needs to look like-” he hadn’t even finished his sentence when Emberpaw lashed out, scoring a deep scratch across his nose in a much more severe imitation of his earlier lesson with Goose. Littlesong recoiled with a genuinely pained yowl, blindly stepping off of her, and the apprentice took the opportunity to slip away, scurrying up a fence and out of sight. Committed to the act, Littlesong bunched his muscles and threw himself after her, following her over the final fence and a few steps into the marsh, hesitating as she disappeared into the tall grasses. He let loose a frustrated snarl, which was actually genuine, and stalked back over to the fence, hauling himself atop it. By the time he made it back to the road, Bear had caught up, panting heavily, back leg tucked up against his stomach.

               “Where is she?” He demanded. Littlesong scowled, looking to the side. This was bad. He couldn’t look too incompetent, or he might lose the respect of Whistler and Featherfall, which would risk the whole operation.

               “She got away,” he mumbled. “I had her pinned near the fence, I was trying to hold her til you got here. I heard something, thought maybe it was you, or another forest cat, and, well…” Littlesong pawed at the wound on his nose, the gash splitting his nose pad and continuing down, across his lip and chin. It’ll probably scar, too! “It surprised me, and she got away from me. She got into the grasses, and I knew I’d never find her again.” Bear growled, tail lashing, and Littlesong couldn’t help but flinch a bit, expecting a blow. The brown tom turned away angrily, limping back the way they came.

               “Come on,” he called. “It’s getting too light out for my taste- we need to make it to the prisoner before the whole Town wakes up.” Littlesong hurried after him, now having to duck and hide to avoid the amount of humans on the street, but eventually they came to an abandoned house, not too far from where the camp was. Littlesong had actually seen it before- it made him uncomfortable to realize he had possibly walked right by Sparkpaw without ever realizing it. Bear led him through a hole in the wooden fence, going around to the overgrown garden in the back of the house. There, two cats were sitting alert, guarding what looked to be a pile of bricks and dirt. The warrior only recognized one- Rosy, one of the mollies in his colony. The other, a tom, was completely unknown to him. As they approached the guards, Rosy called out a greeting.

               “Hey there, Bear, Dandelion. Something wrong?” She twitched an inquisitive ear.

               “No, everything’s fine,” Bear said, and Littlesong stopped himself from shooting him a glance. Not mentioning Emberpaw, huh? “Whistler wants Dandelion on guard duty moving forward, so I figured it best to show him where this place was.” The warrior almost melted with relief. Does this mean I’m not on duty tonight?

               “Oh, cool,” Rosy said, quickly losing interest. “Well, we just traded off with Buttercup and Knot, nothing happened overnight. After Pip and I are done, Twist and Snail are up.” Bear jerked a nod.

               “Excellent. Dandelion, I’ll send you along with Twist tomorrow night, so you can learn the duties. And moon knows Snail won’t be much help.” Nobody said anything in the young tom’s defense, and that seemed to be it, as Bear flicked a tail in goodbye and made to leave. Littlesong hastily gave his own well wishes before taking off after him.

               “So, uh,” he hedged, quailing a bit at the narrowed look Bear gave him. “Do you tell Whistler about the forest cat, or…?”

               “Your mistake, your report.” Bear said shortly, and wisely, Littlesong decided to keep his mouth shut. Ancestors, just don’t let Featherfall still be there. It was firmly morning by the time they got back, the return trip taking even longer thanks to their need to sneak by all the humans and such, and the camp was still and quiet. The warrior thought for a moment he had lucked out, that maybe he could just go to bed and deal with it all that evening, but it seemed Whistler had waited up for them. Bear departed with a simple nod to his boss, stalking away without a word, leaving Littlesong alone with the old gray tom. Whistler looked down at Littlesong’s wound before jerking his head towards the dumpster. The warrior followed obediently, gut sinking as he tried to prepare his report, mind spinning at the idea that Whistler could take everything back. I swear, the next time I see that apprentice-

               “What happened?” Whistler asked bluntly, expression neutral. Littlesong winced.

               “When Bear and I were on our way to, uh, you know,” he said hesitantly, “we ran into a forest, er, swamp cat, and…” The yellow tom haltingly told his story, ears drooping as he recounted how Emberpaw got away from him, eyes downcast as he finished. He could only see Whistler’s tail tip flicking as the boss thought. Finally, there came a reedy sigh.

               “Nothing for it.” Littlesong looked up, eyes hopeful as he saw Whistler didn’t look mad. “Those damn Clan rats are slippery, and with Bear out of commission… well, I always said, it’s easy to kill a rat than keep it.” The warrior winced at that, but nodded, relieved he wasn’t in trouble. “So, you’re going with Twist to the place this evening, correct?”

               “Yeah, er, yes Boss, that’s what Bear said.”

               “That’s fine. He leaves early, though- make sure you’re awake in time, or he’ll likely head over without you.” Ugh, of course. But, once again, Littlesong just nodded obediently, slumping off when Whistler dismissed him. This is good, though, he tried to remind himself, sinking into his nest with a sigh. This is huge. Gorsestorm and Turtledove will be thrilled.

               But when he fell asleep, he dreamt of Lilac and Goose, cowering in terror, Sparkpaw starving and sick, Emberpaw, spitting with hatred, and Featherfall, licking her lips before she lunged for his throat. He awoke with a start, the golden evening light warming his dingy den, and tried to calm his rapid breathing. This whole thing will be the death of me, Littlesong griped to himself, too worked up to try and fall back asleep. At that moment, he just wanted to be home, to see Splash and Ripple and even Goldenthorn, to hear the river through the reeds and smell the fresh air, not be lying on some dirty blanket in this dank, oppressive box. Throat tightening as tears welled in his eyes, Littlesong tried to find what little courage he had. Lionfoot, he thought, Dad, if you can hear me, help me to be brave like you. If only so I can get the hell out of here. Maybe not the best of prayers, but, well, he’d never been good at that either.

               “Dandelion, you up? Come on, it’s time to go!” The warrior took a deep breath, trying to steel himself enough to answer Twist’s summons.

               “Coming!” He called, relieved that his voice didn’t crack, and tried to cheer himself up. Well, you’re good at acting, and you’re good at making friends, he trotted out of the den, giving Twist a friendly blink. The other tom gave him a quick smile before turning to leave. You’ve made it this far. You must be doing something right. And now, he was on his way to see Sparkpaw, and that was the best thing to happen since he learned the apprentice had been kidnapped. And, he had seen Featherfall. Him! Littlesong, the cat that seemed so useless, had made two major breaks, the two major breaks, in this very difficult case. You can do it, he thought, determination swelling through him.

               He had to.

First|Previous|Next

[overgrowth-wc]

PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER SIX

DRAGGING ON AND ALL AT ONCE

Gorsestorm is quite the busy little bee. Herein lies one of the longest (and best? worst? middling, maybe?) days of his life.

Gorsestorm tried not to groan as he slumped back into camp, paws aching and nose still burning from the smell of the Town. It was only midmorning, the sky a brilliant blue, and he tried to let the good news of this last meeting bolster him a bit. Finally, after almost three weeks, both Turtledove and Littlesong had infiltrated the colonies they were seeking out. The little Thunderclanner was practically beaming with pride when she gave them the news- Gorsestorm could tell how much it had bothered her, not having anything to share in the previous meeting. Turtledove was still technically on probation, but she expected to be given a full welcome soon, and in the meanwhile still had her ear to the ground about Featherfall. Littlesong was fully ingratiated, getting along well with most of his new colony mates, and finally having ditched his collar, something the Riverclanner seemed all too happy with. Encouragingly, both had heard whispers that there was some molly that directed a both of their colonies, alongside some others, which pointed to Featherfall being active on the scene. It had been difficult to be the bearer of bad news and bring down the mood of the meeting, but Gorsestorm had to then tell the spies about Sparkpaw’s kidnapping.

               They had been upset, to say the least.

               Both Littlesong and Turtledove had heard of a cat being held somewhere, some of their respective colony members being sent out for ‘guard duty,’ although everything was kept rather hush hush. Before Gorsestorm told them it was most likely Sparkpaw, however, they hadn’t paid much attention, too busy trying to find out anything about Featherfall. They would be much more cognizant of it now, Littlesong even promising to try and get assigned to guard duty- they had all agreed it would be suspicious for Turtledove to do so given her new status in the group, although the calico had seemed almost guilty about it. More bad news was that the Town cats as a collective seemed to be becoming more hostile to Shadowclan’s presence in their territory, a scuffle even breaking out in the park, something that hadn’t happened in years. Rosestar was being quite aggressive in his search for his son, which, you know, Gorsestorm couldn’t really blame him for, but it came at the cost of heightening tensions between them and the Town cats. If this kept up, Littlesong and Turtledove would really be on their own, with no warriors loitering somewhere in the Town to call on. But Gorsestorm didn’t have any control over what Rosestar did- the best he could do was warn the spies about current events and advise them on how to handle it. They both had seemed more determined than anything when they parted ways, promising to do whatever they could to help locate Sparkpaw- hopefully that would help Rosestar tone it down a bit. The pointed tom hadn’t given much of an outward reaction when Gorsestorm told him, but Pinenose and their other two children had seemed relieved. Gorsestorm had then met with Nightrock and Squirrelnose at Fourtrees and given them the update. The Windclanner had also managed to give Nightrock a more thorough update on Bluetail. He’d stopped by a few times to visit the queen in the nursery, both to help the Thunderclanner out and to try and take a more interested role in his Clan, managing to quietly tell her that he would help pass messages along to her secret mate. Both cats were incredibly grateful, and Gorsestorm just tried not to feel too guilty about it- Shalestar obviously knew about it, and she hadn’t done anything, so he didn’t need to worry about it, right?

               “Oh good, you’re back. I would advise you to prepare yourself- something important is about to take place.” Now, Gorsestorm couldn’t help but let out that groan.

               “I don’t enjoy the cryptic, mystic, seer-healer act,” he complained, glaring down at a grinning Teaseltuft. “What’s going on now?”

               “Fine. The kits are being apprenticed at sun high, and, of course, you’re playing a big role there, aren’t you? Best not to embarrass poor Nightkit and clean yourself up.” Gorsestorm tried not to let his surprise show, but not much got past the medicine cat these days. “You forgot.”

               “I did not forget-”

               “You so did. Gorsestorm, I told you yesterday-”

               “Being distracted is not the same as forgetting-”

               “Ah, the future of Windclan looks bright.” The two young cats looked up sheepishly to see an unamused Shalestar and very much amused Palesky walking towards them. “Honestly,” the gray leader drawled, “I look forward to the day I look down from the heavens and see you two running this place.”

               “Still better than me,” Palesky said cheerily. It seemed his children’s impending ceremonies had put him in a good mood, his typical anxiety traded in for atypical excitement. “Another step closer today, hm, Gorsestorm? Nightkit is nearly beside himself, he’s so excited.” Which for the little tom meant he was probably smiling and tolerating his siblings with more patience than normal. He was a rather stoic little thing, especially for a kit, something that Gorsestorm also wondered about. Maybe it was the middle ground between Palesky’s anxious fussing and Littlestream’s unfailing nonchalance?

               “You have some time to eat and get yourself together before the ceremony.” Shalestar said, and it was more of a command than a bit of advice. “Be ready for noon exactly- you will all need time to tour the territory and make it back before dark.” Now, Shalestar didn’t expect any attacks on their Clan given the distance of the moor from the Town, as well as the fact any interloper would have to make it unnoticed through other Clan territory first, but she still didn’t want cats out after dark if it could be helped. Teaseltuft was sent to the Moonstone with no less than three warriors, and the plan for the apprentices was to also have at least two warriors per apprentice when they were out and about. For all that Gorsestorm was the intended replacement for Palesky, the older tom was still deputy, still important to Shalestar in general, and thus, his children were potential targets. Since it seemed Featherfall was really looking to hit the Clan’s where it hurt, anyway, targeting the leaders’ families. Allegedly Nightrock himself had had a run in with some rogues near the Houses, although he had escaped mostly unscathed, the tentative connection there his having been Mintstar’s apprentice. Since she had no other living family- aside from the obvious- it seemed another target had been picked for her. So now Shalestar was worried for her not only her own children, but also her young nieces and nephews, and thus the new rules. Maybe Robinsong will want to take Nightkit out with me…

               “Hey, Gorse!” Speaking of. Gorsestorm bid his leadership and medicine cat a hasty goodbye, serenely ignoring their knowing looks as he trotted over to join Robinsong. At least that whole thing was going well. Well, as well as could be expected. They weren’t courting, but they were spending intentional time together, or whatever crap Teaseltuft had come up with in her unsolicited commentary on the whole affair. It was a little stymied by the fact Robinsong was basically mentoring Lily at this point, meaning the white molly was usually around when Gorsestorm would rather her not be, as much as he tried to be kind about it. However, right now Robinsong was waiting with a large rabbit, a bright grin, and nobody else around, the perfect combination. “How was the Town?” She asked as he came to sit beside her, offering a friendly blink. “Any word about Sparkpaw?” Now, most of the Clan was not aware of the specific going ons of this whole spy thing, but… Gorsestorm had confided in Robinsong about it. He needed someone to talk to, alright? And she was smart and had good ideas, like when she suggested he disguise his scent with plants from the Houses to hide the swampy smell from Shadowclan before meeting with the spies- initially, they hadn’t thought it was a big deal if he dragged Shadowclan scent around, as long as he didn’t smell like Windclan. It wouldn’t be odd for a Shadowclanner to be mingling with Town cats, after all. But with tensions rising, better to not have any Clan association at all.

               “They’ve heard rumors about it, but nothing concrete. They’re going to try and find out though,” he replied, sinking down with a sigh. It felt so nice to lie down after trekking around since before dawn. “How’s it going here?” Robinsong filled him in with the Clan news from the morning- the kits were nearly bursting with excitement, Morningkit in particular being a menace. Lily had been sent out with a hunting patrol to see how she fared, Teaseltuft was walking around with an even bigger grin than usual but refusing to say why, Buzzardclaw had gotten into a tiff with the other elders… refreshingly normal stuff.

               “Do you want to come out with me and Nightkit for his tour?” Gorsestorm asked casually, finishing off his share of the rabbit. “We have to have two warriors with him, you know.” And it was unlikely Robinsong would be getting one of the kits as an apprentice. Kiteclaw and Heathernose, as the more distant heirs, would be getting Dawnkit and Duskkit, respectively, but Morningkit’s mentor was a mystery to them- Shalestar had informed them individually about their assignments and they had, of course, immediately told each other, but so far Morningkit’s mentor had yet to reveal themselves. However, they could guess he would probably get a more experienced mentor, given his personality, as well as the fact he was still the leader’s kin. Personally, Gorsestorm was betting on Sheepear- the older queen was unbothered by practically anything and could hopefully wrangle Morningkit without much trouble.

               “Yeah, that would be great- it’ll give me a break from Lily, at least.” The brown molly gave him a guilty smile. “She’s nice enough, she’s just…”

               “Just?” He probed, ear flicking. In his opinion, the white molly was an odd duck, who also had no regard for personal space. His, in particular.

               “Just a little over eager.” She finished. Ah, a kind way of putting it. Gorsestorm could stand to learn from Robinsong’s more delicate way of phrasing things. “And interested in the strangest things. I must have explained to her the hereditary leadership three times at this point. I don’t think she understands relations outside of immediate family very well.” That was the odd thing about outsiders. Unlike the Clans, they didn’t have a concept of cousins, aunts, uncles, anything besides parents, grandparents, and siblings. The Clans, meanwhile, kept very good track of family, claiming relations up to their cousins’ children. Like how he knew he was kin with Cinderfall and Silverfang, or Nightkit and his siblings. Beyond that, though, he wouldn’t consider any of their children his cousins or family as such, since at that point the bloodline was spread too thin. The medicine cats kept track of all that, however, to make sure bloodlines didn’t cross over too much, so your average warrior didn’t worry too much about it. “She keeps asking why you would qualify as Heir when you’re not Shalestar’s direct descendent. Oh well, I don’t even know if it’s important enough to get into it. I’m not sure she plans on staying.”

               “She needs to figure it out,” Gorsestorm grumbled, laying his head on his paws. “She’s been camping out here long enough.” Robinsong just laughed, a very nice sound, and his eyelids started growing heavy.

               “Am I really that boring?” Robinsong teased, noticing the way he was starting to nod off. “Putting you to sleep with my ramblings?”

               “I wouldn’t say ramblings,” Gorsestorm yawned, jaw cracking nicely. “Bit of a tangent, maybe…” The molly snorted.

               “I can tell when I’m not wanted,” she sniffed, but a quick glance revealed her green eyes sparkling with humor. “Enjoy your nap- I’ll send Morningkit over to wake you up before the ceremony.”

               “Just tell me you hate me,” he whined, “it’ll be less painful than whatever he does to me!” But he really was exhausted, and Gorsestorm couldn’t keep his eyes open now, threat of Morningkit’s terror be damned. Robinsong left him with a fond nudge, and between the soft dirt he was laying in and the gentle sun warming his back, the warrior was soon asleep.

______________________________________________________________

               What felt like a moment later, sharp teeth pricked in his ear.

               “Shit!” He yelped, startled, ripping his head away with a swift yank. That’s my bad ear too, the one Shalestar had split.  Rolling away from his attacker, he came back up with a pointed glare. “Morningkit,” he hissed, the unrepentant terror just smiling at him. “Do you have no concept of appropriate use of force? What are they teaching kits these days?”

               “You’re being a baby,” the little tom replied, tail lashing, and Gorsestorm could only sputter. “Come on, it’s almost time!”

               “Morningkit,” someone scolded, and Gorsestorm greeted his savior with a grateful look. Littlestream was the only cat alive who could cow Morningkit into something resembling obedience. The kit in question wilted, looking up at his mother with sorrowful eyes, which she ignored with practice ease. “Do not speak to someone like that, it’s incredibly rude. An apprentice certainly knows better than to be so crude.” Resigned to his scolding, Morningkit scuffed at the ground, but conceded with a sigh.

               “Yes, Mama,” he murmured, before giving Gorsestorm a somewhat sincere look. “Sorry, Gorsestorm, you’re not a baby.” Close enough. The golden-brown tom gave him a benign nod. Hopefully his mentor will be able to help soften those edges. Littlestream led Morningkit back over to the nursery, where Palesky was trying to groom Duskkit into looking more presentable, fussing in full force. Gorsestorm took the opportunity to get his own pelt in order, and by the time Shalestar called the Clan meeting, he looked every inch the proper warrior.

               Hopefully.

               Gorsestorm trotted over to the front of the gathering crowd, sitting next to Heathernose, Kiteclaw on her other side. The kittens would be apprenticed in birth order, as was proper, which meant Nightkit was going first. Gorsestorm tried not to fidget, excitement racing through his veins. Nightkit, on the other side of the half circle that had formed, offered him a huge grin, which Gorsestorm eagerly returned.

               “Today marks one of the best days a Clan can have- the apprenticeship of our Clan’s future!” Shalestar announced, an easy smile on her face. “Let us begin. Nightkit, Dawnkit, Duskkit, and Morningkit. You have reached the age of six moons and are ready to take the next step in the life of a Clan cat. Nightkit, come forward.” The gray tom padded into the center of the clear space, face composed but yellow eyes bright. “From now until you are blessed with your full name, you will be known as Nightpaw. Gorsestorm will guide you down the path of a warrior- may he lead you well.” Gorsestorm came forward, heart racing and paws tingling with excitement, stopping in front of Nightpaw. “Gorsestorm, you received an excellent education from Falconstar. I trust you will give Nightpaw the training and support he needs to become a true warrior of Windclan.” Gorsestorm pressed his nose to Nightpaw’s, unable to stop his grin, as much as he wanted to stay composed. Finally- finally he was one step closer to fulfilling his role, to becoming a leader Windclan could be proud of. There was a few cheers for Nightpaw as they withdrew to the side, and Dawnpaw and Duskpaw’s ceremonies proceeded in a similar way. When Morningkit stepped forward, however, there was a pause, as everyone looked at each other. Who would his mentor be? “Morningkit, from now until you are blessed with your full name, you will be known as Morningpaw.” A beat. “Teaseltuft will guide you down the path of a healer- may she lead you well.” The Clan practically erupted as the medicine cat padded forward, a bright smile on her face as she offered a gob smacked Gorsestorm a wink.  Morningpaw? A medicine cat? “Tonight,” Shalestar called over the din, “Teaseltuft will take Morningpaw to the Moonstone and ask for Starclan’s blessing. Pending their approval, Morningpaw will be the next medicine cat apprentice of Windclan!” The Clan yowled and cried out their approval, a heightened excitement rippling through the crowd like a wave. How fortunate, to have a star born so soon after the loss of Kestrelcall. Gorsestorm could hear Dipperwing cheering in the crowd- the tom sounded choked up, but a quick check showed the almost blinding grin on his face, a supportive Silverfang doing her best to cheer beside him.

               “Are you surprised?” Nightpaw asked, looking up at his new mentor. “We found out a little bit ago, but Shalestar told us we couldn’t tell anyone. I thought Morningk- Morningpaw was going to explode.” Gorsestorm could only laugh.

               “Well, I hope Teaseltuft knows what she’s up against,” he teased. “Stars know she’s got her work cut out for her.”

               “Oh, I had plenty of practice managing you,” came a chipper voice, Teaseltuft and Morningpaw appearing before them, eerily similar grins on their faces. Come to think of it, they did match almost too well, what with their cream coats and green eyes. Morningpaw was just a much smoother, skinnier, ganglier copy of his new mentor. And with much bigger ears. “Everything after that is just a barn hunt.” Gorsestorm fixed her with a mock glare, too happy to be truly miffed.

               “Hey, I was managing you, not the other way around.” He retorted, puffing up in false indignation. “Show some respect to your old mentor- you’re giving Nightpaw a poor example.” The apprentices just laughed, Teaseltuft’s eyes crinkled up in glee, and after a few more barbs the new mentors parted ways. Gorsestorm led Nightpaw over to where his siblings and their mentors were sitting, discussing where they would go.

               “It’ll be easiest to just split up.” Heathernose said, an eager Duskpaw hanging on to her every word. “It’s too much to have nine cats trying to go together. Duskpaw, Grasspelt and I will head to the barn, and go east around the border from there.”

               “I’ll take Dawnpaw towards the Shadowclan border,” Kiteclaw decided, “And I asked Silverfang to come, which means Dipperwing will probably be coming with us too.” Nobody worry about what Nightpaw and I wanted, Gorsestorm thought dryly, but he knew better than to try and tell his sister and cousin what to do.

               “South to the river for us, then, Nightpaw,” he said. “Robinsong will be coming with us.” Nightpaw just nodded agreeably, a contrast to the way his sisters were bouncing around, and just then Robinsong trotted over. Gorsestorm bid his kin goodbye, leading the way out of camp. Robinsong was chatting amiably with Nightpaw, telling him of her first day as an apprentice. The breeze was blowing nicely, the sky was still perfectly clear, and the warrior knew this day would always stick out to him as one of the best days of his life. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder, his companions perking up. “Race you to the lookout!” Laughing, they took off at a sprint, Robinsong and Gorsestorm dropping back slightly to allow Nightpaw to take the lead, and as he chanced a look over at Robinsong, her smile bright and eyes sparkling with joy, he was even more certain. Yeah, I could get used to this.

______________________________________________________________

               The tour went well, Nightpaw listening to everything Gorsestorm and Robinsong told him with wide, wondering eyes. He particularly enjoyed poking around in the old tunnels and warrens, and even attempted to chase down a rabbit, although it was too slippery for him to catch. Now close to the northeast side of the territory, near where the graveyard was, Gorsestorm decided to call it for the day.

               “It’s getting late, and you know how Shalestar worries,” he said, eyeing the brilliant sunset with an almost judgmental gaze. Ugh, we didn’t get to do the whole territory. Nightpaw seemed similarly disappointed, so Gorsestorm gave him a gentle nudge. “Don’t worry, I’ll just get you up super early tomorrow so we can finish up.”

               “How early is super early?” Nightpaw asked cautiously, and Gorsestorm just grinned. The little tom had never been fond of mornings, keeping true to his name by being a bit of a night owl. Besides him, Robinsong snorted.

               “I wouldn’t worry, Night,” she said pleasantly, “I do not get up ‘super early,’ and if Gorsestorm wants me to come with you again tomorrow, then he’ll have to wait for a reasonable time. Does that sound better?" Relieved, Nightpaw nodded. Gorsestorm playfully rolled his eyes.

               “Day one, and my authority has already been undermined twice,” he whined, leading the way back to camp. “Honestly, what does a tom gotta do-”

               A rustle in the scrub. Immediately, Gorsestorm was between the others and the noise, fur bushed out and lips drawn back in a snarl. “Robin, get him out of-”

               “Sorry!” Came a sheepish call, and Lily tumbled out of the heather, looking like she had gotten in a fight with the plant and lost. Her fine fur had burrs and twigs scattered throughout it, and as she flicked an embarrassed ear a leaf came drifting down. “I’m afraid I got separated from the hunting patrol and have been stuck wandering around in the heather. It’s like a maze!” Gorsestorm relaxed, although he was unhappy with the interruption for a variety of reasons. One, he didn’t need a heart attack. Two, he didn’t want an interloper interrupting such a wonderful day. And, finally, there was the small part of him that still found Lily to be much too suspicious for his tastes. It didn’t help that Morningpaw so vehemently disliked her and now was revealed to be the star born. Was there a connection there? Or was Gorsestorm just paranoid?

               “No worries, Lily,” Robinsong said smoothly, and he realized he was still just looking at her through narrowed eyes. The golden-brown tom shook himself, clearing his throat.

               “You just startled me, is all,” Gorsestorm tried to say nicely. “We’re a little on edge, you know? Don’t want anything happening to Nightpaw.”

               “Oh, of course not,” Lily said, eyes wide. She gave Nightpaw a friendly blink. “How was your first day out and about?”

               “Fine.” The apprentice returned shortly, Robinsong giving him a surprised glance. She opened her mouth, possibly to chide him, and Gorsestorm intervened.

               “Come on,” he said, flicking his tail towards camp. “It’s getting dark quickly. We need to head home now.” Robinsong gave him a questioning look, but he just flicked an ear. Later. She nodded, the tom grateful she understood, and together they led their little group home. They made it into the camp just as the last of the light was fading from the sky, an impatient Shalestar and worried Palesky waiting for them.

               “Thank the ancestors,” Palesky murmured as Nightpaw trotted up to him, greeting his father with an affectionate purr. “I was getting worried.”

               “Don’t worry, Dad.” Nightpaw said, rubbing his head on Palesky’s shoulder. “I’m fine! Gorsestorm and Robinsong took me all over, and they taught me so many cool things…” Shalestar waved Gorsestorm over, jerking her head towards her den. The warrior bid Robinsong goodbye, Nightpaw busy telling his father about his first day and Lily already gone. He obediently followed after Shalestar, and they ducked into her den to find Teaseltuft already waiting, eyes bright even in the dark.

               “Good news,” she said brightly and without preamble. “I was able to speak to Poppypaw today- well, a little bit, at least.” Gorsestorm almost fell over. What? “She just said ‘Find the spirit seer.’ That’s it. I tried to ask her what she meant, but she just… disappeared again.” The medicine cat shook her head, frustrated. “Honestly, when I first came here, and saw Poppypaw, you know, with the whole ‘justice’ thing? I thought that meant I was the one who was supposed to set her spirit free. But now, with everything that’s happened…” She sighed. “I wonder if I’m just supposed to help someone else do it instead.” Gorsestorm leaned over and gave her a supportive nudge, trying to wrap his head around the news. What, or who, is a spirit seer?

“Wouldn’t you be a spirit seer?” He questioned, casting a glance at Shalestar, who seemed to be lost in thought. “I mean, you’re a medicine cat, and you can obviously see and communicate with spirits on some level. Or maybe would it be one of the others instead?” Teaseltuft hummed, but she seemed doubtful.

               “Poppypaw told me to find the spirit seer, so it’s not me, and I don’t think it’s one of the other medicine cats. She would have just said medicine cat, or healer, right? So, it’s got to be someone else.” She shook her head. “I’m going to ask the ancestors for guidance tonight. Hopefully they’ll be a bit more clear than they usually are.”

               “Speaking of,” Shalestar said abruptly, “Gorsestorm. It’s been a long day for you, I know.” The warrior, in an incredible show of composure, did not groan, roll his eyes, wince, or do anything to reveal the way he was dying inside. Oh, I know what’s coming next. “But- I want you to go to the Moonstone with Teaseltuft and Morningpaw tonight. Palesky, Grasspelt, Kiteclaw, and Stagleap will be going as well.” Ah, so Shalestar was sending her best fighters to guard the medicine cats. Makes an unfortunate amount of sense. “In return, you are excused from any and all duties tomorrow- take the day to rest and spend time with Nightpaw.” Gorsestorm paused. That wasn’t a bad deal, considering he’d expected to have a full day tomorrow, tired as he already was. What was one last job if it meant he had a whole day off? Looks like Robinsong and Nightpaw will get the lie in they wanted. Gorsestorm nodded.

               “Sounds good to me. When do we leave?” Teaseltuft’s whiskers twitched in amusement, but she didn’t comment on his sudden enthusiasm.

               “Very soon. I need to put together some travelling herbs for Morningpaw. I’d suggest getting a snack before we go- you could use the energy after such a long day.” He once again nodded agreeably, giving Shalestar a respectful dip of the head in goodbye before following Teaseltuft out of the den. The clearing was mostly empty, really just the patrol Shalestar had assigned to the medicine cats lingering on the fringes. Gorsestorm grabbed himself a sparrow before settling down near the medicine den, keeping an eye on the entrance as he waited for Teaseltuft to emerge. Nightpaw was sitting outside with Morningpaw, the cream tom exuberantly acting out… something? For his amused brother. It almost looked like he was pretending to fight something into submission. Gorsestorm just hoped the tom didn’t misunderstand Teaseltuft when she spoke about ‘wrangling patients.’

               “Gorsestorm? Do you have a moment?” The warrior looked up to see Grasspelt, of all cats, sitting in front of him, looking slightly… nervous? Bemused, Gorsestorm nodded, swallowing the bite he had just taken.

               “Of course, what can I do for you?” Gorsestorm and Grasspelt were relatively friendly, but it wasn’t like they were friends. The tom was a couple years older, a laid-back sort of fellow, but a wicked fighter. Why the tom hadn’t taken the -claw name was beyond him. Gorsestorm idly remembered asking the cream warrior for sparring tips back when he was an apprentice- Grasspelt had been kind enough to oblige, showing him moves that, at the time, had been the coolest thing little Gorsepaw had ever seen. He snapped back into reality at Grasspelt’s next question.

               “I wanted to ask your permission to seek courtship with Heathernose.” It took every ounce of strength to keep his eyes from bugging out. He managed to keep it to a wide-eyed look.

               “O-oh? You, uh, you want to court Heather?” That’s literally what he just said, dummy, he internally hissed at himself, but Grasspelt, in his geniality, simply nodded.

               “I’ve already cleared it with Teaseltuft,” the cream tom said, “and she said there is no issue with it on her end. And, um…” Now, his nerves seemed to be getting the better of him, as he shuffled in place, ears twitching. “I’ve been spending more time with Heathernose lately, and, well, I asked her what she thought about it, and she said she’d, uh, be fine- or um, not fine, you know, she seemed happy about it-”

               “Well, if Heather is happy with it, then that’s enough for me.” Gorsestorm interrupted, then fixed him with a hard glare. “I’d threaten you myself, but just know nothing I do could be worse than what Kiteclaw could do to you, alright? And I’m not afraid to sic her on you.” Grasspelt nodded seriously, and the toms lapsed into an almost awkward silence. Kiteclaw, bless her, took the opportunity to come padding over.

               “Asked the question, then, hm, Grass?” She chirped, and the tom nodded sheepishly, Gorsestorm shooting her a look. “Sorry Gorse,” Kiteclaw mewed, not sounding sorry at all. “If you knew Grass and Heather had started padding after each other, she wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on with you and Robin. Feel free to torture her at your leisure.” Gorsestorm, unwilling to admit how much the thought tempted him, sniffed imperiously.

               “I am not that immature.” He drawled, then paused. “Is she still awake?” His cousin laughed, shaking her head.

               “Nah, she’s supposed to be on dawn patrol tomorrow, so she went to bed early. Unfortunately, you’re out of luck until then. Try not to let the anticipation get to you.” The molly then departed with a satisfied flick of her tail, and Gorsestorm felt a mix of amusement and sadness as she padded away. Honestly, he had expected to be having this conversation with Thrushspots about Kiteclaw at this point, not Grasspelt and Heathernose. Since both of Kiteclaw’s parents were dead, now, a tom would have to approach either him or Shalestar to ask permission to court her. But Thrush was gone, and now who knew if someone else would ever ask?

               “If it makes you feel better,” Grasspelt said, drawing Gorsestorm back to the present, “I approached her about it only this morning. This was just quite literally the first moment I had to ask you about it.” Gorsestorm smiled, a little bit of tension relaxing. He hadn’t really liked the idea of Heather not talking to him about this, hurt starting to creep in, but if it had just happened…

               “No worries,” he said, and the other tom minutely slumped in relief. “I’ve been busy trekking the whole of the territories, after all. Doesn’t leave much time for conversation.” The golden-brown warrior took the opportunity to chat with his sister’s potential beau, figuring he should start making an effort to be friends if they were to share kin someday. Grasspelt was quietly funny, and almost surprisingly smart, which was probably why Heathernose was giving him the time of day. She was definitely more of the intellectual type- Gorsestorm could only stand so many theoretical discussions about the Code and how the ancestors worked and blah blah blah, so it was good she found someone willing to engage on that level. Soon enough, though, Teaseltuft emerged, calling for her apprentice and entourage. The group headed out, off to that all too familiar meeting spot. They arrived to see the rest of the medicine cats already there, Fernfire complaining, Snowdrift chuckling, and Splashpaw gleefully egging the Shadowclanner on. Each healer had their own warrior accompaniment- Cloudclaw and a ginger molly for Snowdrift, Crowcall and Houndtooth with Fernfire, and Squirrelnose and a gray molly for Splashpaw. The Shadowclanner’s looked up as the large Windclan patrol approached, Fernfire ribbing them with a mischievous grin.

               “My, how well protected you are, young Teasel,” he called, smiling as they came to a stop before the others. “I am going to have to tell Rosestar I feel downright neglected. No offense, of course.” This last part was to a mildly amused Crowcall and an unimpressed Houndtooth. Teaseltuft just laughed in response.

               “Actually, this pomp and circumstance is for Morningpaw here. He’s much more important than I am, I’m afraid.” She stepped aside to show the uncharacteristically shy Morningpaw, the little tom having hidden himself behind his new mentor’s fluff. He cautiously dipped his head in greeting, large ears slightly turned back as all eyes landed on him.

               “Well, welcome aboard, Morningpaw!” Splashpaw greeted cheerily, Morningpaw relaxing a bit at the obvious show of good will. “Very exciting to have you with us.” The other medicine cats echoed the well wishes, and with a cleared throat from Fernfire, were off to the Moonstone. Crowcall dropped back to walk with Gorsestorm and Grasspelt, giving the cream tom a friendly nod.

               “How’s prey running in Windclan?” He asked with a tired grin.

               “Quickly,” Grasspelt replied, getting a small laugh out of the Shadowclanner. “And I’m sure it’s hopping in Shadowclan as well.”

               “That it is,” Crowcall chuckled. But it seemed almost forced, and it was impossible to ignore the exhaustion clinging to the typically mischievous tom.

               “How’s Briarmask?” Gorsestorm asked quietly. He knew the molly was recovering physically, Fernfire confident she would have no lasting effects from her wounds, but mentally…

               “Still trying to sneak out to find Sparkpaw,” Crowcall said, a mixture of exasperation and affection in his tone. “It’s… hard for her. She swore an oath to protect him when he was a kit, and she takes it very seriously.” Gorsestorm nodded sympathetically. He’d only been Nightpaw’s mentor for a day, but if anything happened to him- well, he couldn’t blame Briarmask for her reaction. Not even counting that they’re kin.

               “Hopefully Turtledove and Littlesong will find something out soon.” He murmured, and Crowcall nodded. The Shadowclanner then moved on, asking about Nightpaw and telling horror stories about Emberpaw, who was even more prone to acting out these days. They made it to the Mothermouth without incident, the medicine cats trailing in and leaving the warriors to stand guard. Bored, Gorsestorm looked around idly.  With almost a dozen warriors standing guard, not even a dog would make an attempt to harass them, and maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to relax, but he also had been up since before dawn and all. Surely he deserved a little break? The tom felt like he had only closed his eyes for a moment before the medicine cats reemerged, faces bright with smiles, Splashpaw in particular puffed up like a bullfrog.

               “Good news, I presume?” Squirrelnose asked, a slight smile on his face. Splashpaw nodded exuberantly.

               “I have received my name from Reedpelt, with the ancestor’s blessing- my name is Splashbelly now!” All the warriors joined in a brief cheer for the new medicine cat, and despite not knowing him well, Gorsestorm couldn’t help but feel proud of the young healer- he had struggled greatly after the death of his mentor, but still managed to become a medicine cat his Clan could rely on. Splashbelly nodded to Teaseltuft, who nudged Morningpaw forward with a grin.

               “And Morningpaw has been accepted by the ancestors! He is officially the new healer apprentice of Windclan.” The Windclan warriors cheered loudly for Morningpaw, who pinned his ears back but had a grin splitting his face, a mixture of abashed and gleeful. After they settled, the large group set out, Windclan splitting off early to take a more direct route back to their camp. Teaseltuft motioned Gorsestorm over, a few tail lengths away from the rest, and the moment he drew close to her, the young healer’s smile dropped.

               “I received a warning from the ancestors.” Dread pooled in his stomach, but he kept his expression stoic. “I was gathering herbs, and I found a strange plant I’ve never seen before. Something compelled me to bring it back to camp, and when I did, Shalestar ate it. She grew sick, and died, and there was nothing I could do.” Now, he couldn’t help the way he stumbled, his distress peaking at the fraught look on Teaseltuft’s face. “I don’t know what this plant is, and I tried to describe it to the others, but they didn’t know either. Snowdrift thought he might have heard of such a plant in the Houses- I need to find out what it is, what it might mean.”

               “Describe it to me, then,” Gorsestorm urged, the anxiety sending renewed energy through his veins. “I’ll go and find it, find what it is, and then-“ Teaseltuft shook her head.

               “You can’t be seen wandering the Houses or the Town, and I’m sure there are plenty of strange plants there that might match the description. No, I need to go, and I can’t have any Windclanners with me- everyone would stick out too much.” Gorsestorm didn’t like that at all, not one bit, but when he opened his mouth to protest Teaseltuft cut him off. “I spoke to Snowdrift. He promised me that his brother and another warrior could take me, as they have experience in the Town but have not been around enough to be recognized. I’m going to speak to Shalestar about this tomorrow morning and get her approval.” Notice how she didn’t say ask for her approval. Gorsestorm grouched to himself, but reluctantly acquiesced. Maybe he could get to Shalestar before her and sway the leader into not allowing it.

               “Did you find out anything about the spirit seer?” He asked instead, and was further weighed down by disappointment when she shook her head.

               “But,” Teaseltuft said, “Fernfire did. We think it might be a Shadowclanner, based on that. He saw Poppypaw in the swamp, sitting on a stump. He plans on going there to investigate. Although,” she hesitated, “we do find it strange that no one has told him about their ability to see ghosts, which makes him feel it might be one of the apprentices, or even one of the kits, which. Well.”

               “Would be incredibly dangerous for them,” Gorsestorm finished, mulling it over. He couldn’t imagine it being one of the apprentices- Sunpaw was much too obedient and honest to not have approached Fernfire about it, and Emberpaw was- well. Emberpaw. So that left one of the kits, some of whom, at least, were approaching apprentice age. Not that that made the thought of involving such a young cat in this dangerous affair any better. “I hope the ancestors know what they’re doing.” He murmured. Teaseltuft offered him a weak smile.

               “Sometimes they do.” They lapsed into silence, exhaustion once again hitting Gorsestorm full force. This has been the longest day of my life. And despite the promise of a day off, he had the sinking feeling that tomorrow would be just as busy. Father, he begged, paws dragging after Teaseltuft and his head and heart heavy with doubt, do us all a favor, and help us figure this out.

              I don't think we can do this on our own.

First|Previous|Next

[overgrowth-wc]

PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER FIVE

AS THE ROMANS DO

Turtledove is struggling her way through the Town, desperate to the point she's happy to be spending time with strangers. Strangers! One of whom is a tom, and oh dear, what would her mother say?

Chapter Text

               The Town was really not a fun place to be.

               Turtledove’s sense of adventure had worn off days ago, and now the only thing keeping her from fleeing home with her tail between her legs was a dogged determination to not prove everyone right. She wanted to prove them wrong, remember? So, despite being harassed at all hours, having to constantly scrounge for food, and going empty pawed to her first meeting with Littlesong and Gorsestorm, Turtledove kept trying. Life as a lone cat in the Town was rough. She had been chased out of too many alleys to count, her stuttering explanations or requests for help met with sharp words and blows. While mice and rats abounded, and birds and squirrels were creeping back with the warmth, the best hunting grounds were closely guarded by different colonies and groups. What was left she had to fight for with every other drifter on the block. Just yesterday, she had been forced to abandon a rat she caught by three cats about her age, who had leapt out of the shadows the moment she had cracked the creature’s spine. It was embarrassing to relate these stories to the others, especially since Littlesong was already on probation with a colony that Gorsestorm recognized. He had won some sparring match and been welcomed in like a long-lost son. Where was that kind of luck for Turtledove?

               As evening passed and the human traffic began to slow, Turtledove desperately prayed that tonight would be different. She’d found shelter in what Tulipstem had called a cardboard box- it was smelly, and damp, and she was all too happy to leave it. The calico had recently made her way to the part of Town Gorsestorm had told her about, and had slowly been making her way around it since their last meeting. She was specifically looking out for Rocky or his colony mates, whose descriptions she had memorized. The warrior hadn’t had any luck in asking around, so she was forced to explore and hope for the best. Tonight, her plan was to head over to a cluster of alleys near some human food places- they were prime colony territory, and if Gorsestorm was right about Rocky, he’d have at least some control in an area like that. It would be dangerous, though, so she kept her guard up, slinking through the shadows and sticking to what hiding places there were. The smell of human food- both disgusting and alluring in equal measure- soon wafted in on the breeze, and as Turtledove came to the last street she would need to cross, she stopped to give herself a pep talk.

               You are a Thunderclan warrior. You are smart and clever. You can do this if you don’t let your fear overwhelm you. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You can beat any cat here in a fight, and if you don’t find your answers tonight, you can try again tomorrow. It was something Mintstar had taught her. Taking a moment before she tried something, especially something she was nervous about, to recenter and focus on her strengths instead of her weakness would make her more likely to succeed. Feeling a bit more confident, she took a deep breath, checked for cars, and raced across the road. She hid underneath a sleeping car on the other side, trying to get a read on what was going on in the alleys. There were a couple of cats around, but they all seemed to be either coming or going, not stopping to speak with anyone outside of their own groups. Maybe this is a shared area, and I won’t get chased out. Colonies did that sometimes, apparently. Particularly food rich areas might be controlled by a few different groups, who decided it was easier to share than constantly tear each other apart over it. If that was the case here, Turtledove might be able to wander around without immediately being run off.

               Hopefully.

               Trying to act casual, but also like she knew what she was doing, Turtledove slipped out from underneath the car and made for the alley at a swift but steady pace. So far so good, the first group of cats ignored her, okay, one gave her a dirty look, but didn’t say anything, she was by the first dumpster now, take a sniff, act normal, Turtle, like you’re allowed to be here…

               “And who, exactly, are you?” Fox shit. Turtledove ignored the voice, hoping maybe they would go away, or were talking to someone else- “Hey, tiny, I’m talking to you!” Tiny? Bristling, Turtledove looked over her shoulder with a glare, trying to not to show how nervous she was when she saw her challenger.

               Two toms and two mollies stood there, ranging from apprentice aged to almost senior warrior, and none of them looked happy to see her. The tom at the front, the oldest, and probably the one who had called her out, was scowling something fierce. Carefully, the calico turned completely to face them, shoulders relaxed but ready to run if she needed to.

               “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she replied, trying to sound neutral instead of aggressive or, you know, terrified. Tulipstem had repeated over and over that Turtledove would be expected to act just as cagey and standoffish as all the other Town cats- being too precocious or friendly would read as either weakness or disrespect, both of which were equally dangerous. It’s all about gauging the other cat- don’t let anybody push you around, but don’t try to start anything, especially when you’re alone. And Turtledove was very much alone, a fact she was all too aware of as the four cats moved a bit closer.

               “It’s my business because I’m in charge here,” the tom growled, and Turtledove narrowed her eyes. He could be telling the truth, in which case she would be smart to offer a quick apology before getting out of there, but something seemed… off. Another once over revealed that all the cats were just a bit too skinny, hips and ribs just a little too visible beneath their coats. If he ran such good territory, they wouldn’t be going hungry. Tilting her chin back just a bit, Turtledove fixed the tom’s pink nose with a hard stare.

               “That’s funny,” she mewed, “since I know for a fact that this is shared ground, and I don’t think the cats who are really in charge would be happy to hear you playing boss.” Success- her gut instinct had proven right as a spark of uncertainty flitted across the tom’s face. But then, all of sudden, a part of her felt bad. Her once over revealed a similarity between the older tom and molly and the younger ones- they were probably a family, and the tom was trying to make sure they had something to eat. Dropping her gaze, Turtledove jerked her head back at the dumpster. “But again… it’s shared territory, so I can’t stop you from getting something to eat. Just like you can’t stop me.” Silence. A quick glance showed the cats were now looking at her carefully, the two younger cats exchanging a look she couldn’t read. The warrior decided to extend one last offer of peace. “My name is Turtle, though, if you really care to know.” The older molly, or queen, probably, a torbie with bright orange patches, relaxed a bit, and the tom, a pale gray, let out a sigh.

               “Smokey. This is my mate, Shimmer, and our children, Rook and Tawny.” Turtledove gave them a careful nod, a large part of her happy to have an actual conversation with someone after two weeks of being shunned. Smokey cleared his throat. “Apologies, but you know how it is.” And she actually did.

               “Unfortunately, I do,” she said drily, surprising herself with how much she sounded like Mintstar in that moment. “I think if the five of us take this dumpster most cats will leave us alone, though.” She tried to not sound stiff, like this was just a normal part of her daily life and not something she was playing pretend with. Smokey nodded, thankfully, motioning for his mate and children to stay put while he leapt atop the dumpster, Turtle joining him a moment later. She purposefully let him take first dibs, and the tom grabbed a large chunk of only slightly foul meat, tossing it back down to his family. Turtledove carefully chose a bone with only a few mouthfuls of meat left on it, jumping back down to join Shimmer and the others.

               “You should eat with us,” Shimmer said, her yellow eyes kind. “Nobody else will pick on you if you’re with a group. You are alone, aren’t you?” It would reveal her vulnerability to tell the truth, that she was painfully alone here, but she needed to make some connections. Honesty might help more than being dodgy in this case. At least, she hoped it would- really, how amoral could these cats be?

               “Yes,” she murmured, starting slightly as a few meaty bones came falling over the side of the dumpster. “So I appreciate the invitation.” Shimmer nodded sympathetically, nudging the meat over to her children before grabbing the bones for herself. Smokey joined a few moments later, carrying a similar meal to Turtledove’s, coaxing his family over to a pile of scrap wood a little further down the alley. It offered some shelter from prying eyes looking for an easy meal, which was good enough for Turtledove, who followed the family over at a respectful distance. Once settled in the shadows, Shimmer pinned her once more with a curious look.

               “You’re a little young to be on your own,” the queen began, and Turtledove internally prepared to give her little spiel about her tragic past. “Why, you can’t be much older than Rook and Tawny.” Okay, that’s a little much.

               “I’ve seen my full turn of the seasons,” she mewed, looking carefully at an orange splash just under the queen’s eye. “But I was… separated, from my family. Taken to this part of Town by a human. A, well, uh, a few weeks ago. To be honest, I… don’t really know where I am.” She cast Smokey an apologetic look. “I only guessed about you not being the boss, but you know how it is.” He gave her a wry grin.

               “Unfortunately, I do.” Turtledove couldn’t help but smile. “It’s terrible, what humans do to us.” Turtledove was content to have her meal with the little family, Rook and Tawny finally piping up after they finished their food. It was nice to finally have someone to talk to, even if they were strangers. They told her a bit about the area of Town they were in, and she was able to get confirmation that there were a few ruling colonies in this area, one of which was run by a tabby named Rocky and his mate.

               “They had an issue with their colony splitting up a bit, few moons past,” Smokey mused, idly rolling the picked clean bone beneath his paw. “But last I heard he’s picked up a couple new cats. If he can’t get his numbers back up, though, another colony will probably try for his territory soon.” He cast Turtledove a considering glance. “Maybe you should look into it. It’s not good for a young molly like you to be on her own. Plenty of unsavory types around here.” Excellent. Now I can ask about it without being suspicious.

“I’ll take what I can at this point,” she said, trying not to sound overly eager, but also not reluctant. A fine balance, like all this acting nonsense required. “Where can I find them?” She tried not to let the disappointment crush her at the uncertain look on Smokey’s face.

               “We… try to avoid real colony territory as much as possible. I think the last place they set up was a few alleys over, near the warehouse, but that was a bit ago. They could have moved by now.” Another impossibility of the Town. Colonies moved all the time, either because of humans or weather or other colonies. It was making her job all the more difficult. “You could at least try over that way, see who you can find.” As disappointed as she was, this was good. Or an improvement, at least, right? Before tonight she was just… roaming around, but now she had some direction, and an honest cover story for why she was asking around. See? It’s fine. It’s more than fine, you can do this, this is what you were praying for. Thanks, ancestors, for this.

               “I definitely will, thank you. For the advice and the meal, that is.” Smokey snorted, but stood, signaling for his family to join him. Once again, Turtledove beat back the wave of disappointment she felt as she realized it was time for them to leave. I really have missed being around cats if I’m sad to see them go. What has the world come to? They wouldn’t recognize her back home, if they saw her moved almost to tears at the idea she wouldn’t be around strangers for a little longer.

               “Stay safe out there, Turtle.” He rumbled. Turtledove nodded in return.

               “I will, thank you. Uh, you all too. Stay safe. And thanks again.” The family bid their goodbyes and then slipped off into the night, Turtledove left sitting alone in the shadows of the scrap heap. She heaved a sigh. Well, it’s not too late. I could at least try to make my way towards the warehouse tonight, and really look for them tomorrow. Bracing herself once more, she set out.

______________________________________________________________

               The warehouse wasn’t too far from where the shared territory was, at least from what Gorsestorm had told her and Smokey had confirmed, although the directions both gave were remarkably vague. But from what she had learned, it was a sort of landmark in the Town. While busy with humans and their strange machines, there were plenty of rodents for those brave enough to venture in. And Smokey had given her at least a general direction to head in, so she could figure it out from there. Probably. She would have to, since it was unlikely she’d get that kind of help again anytime soon. Within the hour, and after scaling a few trees to check her surroundings, she could see it, rising above the surrounding buildings like an oak in a cluster of aspens. It had a huge open area around it, made of the same stone the road was and lit up like day with massive streetlamps, and a large, strange, shiny fence along the perimeter. This kind of fence was easier to climb than the wooden ones around the houses, since the honeycomb pattern made for plenty of paw holes. But Turtledove wasn’t looking to get into the warehouse, just find the colony camped near it, so she chose a random alley nearby and set off towards it. Unfortunately, her luck ran out just about then, as three dark figures slipped from the shadows and surrounded her.

               “Well, look at this. A lone little molly, wandering around where she has no business being. Not very smart, are you dear?” A cream molly purred, posture relaxed but blue eyes like ice. Irritation swelled in Turtledove’s chest, and she bristled. She was instantly reminded of how Stripestream, Stripepaw back then, had teased her for being dumb when she was a kit because of her oddities. It was a sore spot, even now, which was probably why her mouth got away from her.

               “You seem like you would have personal experience with stupidity, so I’ll trust your judgement.”  It was satisfying, and she could almost imagine Loudstorm and Beetlewhisker cheering her on, but now the molly just looked pissed, and Turtledove could hear her companions circling behind her. You are dumb, Turtle, running your mouth like that. How are you going to find Featherfall if you’re dead?

“Listen, whelp,” The molly hissed, fur bristling. “Do you have any idea-”

               “Buttercup!” All four cats jumped at the sudden jovial interruption, and Turtledove looked wildly up at where the voice came from. “Fancy seeing you here. It’s funny, you know, since you’re not supposed to be.” The speaker was a very large, very fluffy tabby tom, and as he leapt from his position atop a balcony Turtledove couldn’t help but be afraid. He’s huge. He could snap any of us in half like a mouse bone. The tom ambled into the dim light from the warehouse, green eyes glowing with humor, but something about his posture just screamed danger. Buttercup quailed a bit, now seeming nervous herself.

               “Knot,” she murmured, gaze darting around. “We were just passing through- thought we’d help Rocky out by chasing off a stray.” Turtledove glared, but Knot just purred.

               “Don’t think Rocky can handle his own territory, hm? My, what a low opinion you have. Do you want to find out how we run things here? And how we chase off strays?” Knot took a step forward, and Turtledove couldn’t help but flinch. “Why don’t you three run along now, and I’ll take care of my own business. Sounds good?” Buttercup and her companions didn’t bother to answer, just trotted off quickly into the night, leaving Turtledove alone with the smiling tom. Part of her was screaming run, you idiot, run, but the other part of her was saying that this tom knows Rocky. And that’s what she was here for, right? So she took a deep breath and focused on the stripe that bisected the dark gray toms forehead.

               “You said this is Rocky’s territory?” Turtledove asked, absolutely proud of the way her voice did not shake. The tom cocked his head curiously. Turtledove felt distinctly like a mouse might when it saw a predator coming.

               “I did indeed. Good listener, you are. Why do you want to know?” He’s not chasing me off. He hasn’t even made any moves to claw me. The warrior forced herself to relax.

               “I was told that Rocky was looking for new members for his colony. And since I’m currently without a group, I thought I’d come check it out.” Stars, she was so good at this. Look at her! She could be a Riverclan performer, at this rate. If only Rain and Owl could see this.

“And if he’s not?” Fox shit. Well. That would be terrible, actually. Turtledove kept her expression smooth, although her gaze dropped to Knot’s fluffy paws.

               “Well then, I guess I’m out of luck.” Knot laughed, then, and Turtledove couldn’t help her curious look.

               “Nobody’s ever out of luck, Spook, and tonight is lucky for the both of us. In fact, I’m going to make you a deal.” For some reason, her mother’s warnings of strange toms came ringing back through her head, and she tensed, giving Knot a guarded look. “See, I’ve noticed you around the past few days,” oh stars, he’s been stalking me, that’s not good- “and I couldn’t help but notice you’re a fantastic hunter, even if you have trouble holding on to your catch.” What? “In my abundant humility, I can admit that I am a terrible hunter, myself. Really, it’s just dismal. All of my strengths lie in more… combative pursuits.” So the humility part was a total lie, the tom practically bled arrogance, but at least the part about fighting seemed truthful. He had run those cats off just by looking at them, basically. But who couldn’t hunt? “The thing is, the colony needs cats who can hunt. If you can catch two hunters worth of prey, I’ll bring you back to Rocky, and vouch for you to join the group.” Lucky indeed. Still, Turtledove couldn’t act too desperate, so she narrowed her eyes.

               “So, what you’re saying is, if I do your share of hunting for the colony, as well as my own, you’ll get me in?” Knot nodded amicably, that same amused half grin seeming to be permanently etched on his face. “And Rocky would be fine with that?”

               “Rocky wouldn’t need to know,” he said smoothly. “See, winter was hard, so everyone just brought back food scraps anyway. But now that prey is really returning, I’m running out of reasons for not bringing back fresh kill. And my charm and good looks can only get me so far, you know. So, Spook, what do you say?”

               “I say yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes to the deal, that is.” Now Knot’s grin was full blown, and he stood with a purr. Turtledove had to crane her head back to maintain her pretend eye contact. He gave her a friendly blink.

               “Perfect. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you not to mention this little deal, right?” Knot started off, Turtledove at a trot to keep up.

               “Is that a threat?” He shot her a wounded look.

               “Spook, I don’t make threats, especially against little things like yourself.” What is it with that tonight? She let out an offended sniff.

               “I’m over a year old,” she hissed. “I’m not a kit.” Unfortunately, this seemed to make Knot more excited.

               “I just passed my first year as well!” Are you kidding me? He’s a beast! “That makes us peers, then, Spook. I’m getting the feeling we’ll be fast friends, you and I.” Somehow, I doubt that. “Alright then, let’s get started. I can lead you to our good hunting spots, and then it’s up to you. Come along Spook!” He took off at a lope, Turtledove running after him.

               “My name isn’t Spook, it’s Turtle.”

               “Same thing. Less talking, more running! We’re wasting the night.”

               Stars save me from strange toms.

______________________________________________________________

               Well, at least that went well. As much as she was reluctant to admit it, she and Knot made a good team. With him hanging in the wings and keeping away potential challengers, Turtledove was able to hunt in peace, and as the first humans started to emerge from their houses, the two young cats had collected a bounty. Knot was impressed, but also strutting along like he had done all the work, which Turtledove did her best to let go. Thankfully, he couldn’t talk around the prey he was carrying, leaving a blissful silence so the warrior could think. She couldn’t mess this up- she had one chance to get in with Rocky, and this was it. She felt better about having Knot to vouch for her, since that would make Rocky more likely to trust her and all, but wait, what if Knot went back on his word? Or if Rocky didn’t care what he thought? Hopefully the prey I caught and my hunting skill will make me valuable enough that that wouldn’t matter. The other thing she was unsure of was exactly how many cats might be in the colony now- Gorsestorm hadn’t mentioned Knot at all, for example. How many more cats could have joined in the past few months? Distracted as she was, Turtledove almost walked directly into Knot’s fluffy tail when he came to a sudden stop.

               They were at the mouth of an alley that honestly looked like every other she had seen, but even past the prey in her mouth Turtledove could smell the territory markers that declared it a colony base. Apparently only bases were scent marked, with the wider territory loosely controlled by patrolling colony members, the actual boundaries shifting often- sometimes daily. Knot waved his tail, ushering her forward, his muffled meow something to the effect of we’re here. A wiry dark gray tom stepped from the shadows, eyeing Turtledove with suspicious, beady eyes.

               “Knot. Who’s this?” Knot seemed to cheerfully explain, words unintelligible around his full mouth. The other tom was now glaring at him in annoyance, but her companion just jaunted forward, Turtledove scrambling to stay with him, and easily shouldered his way past the tom and further down the alley. The cry of hey! behind them was ignored. At Turtledove’s look, Knot just winked. Turning a corner and slipping through a hole in a wooden fence, they were suddenly in a base camp.

               The cordoned off area was smushed between two buildings, capped off by the fence behind them and a brick wall in front of them. Stack of crates, cardboard boxes, and other detritus littered the alley, several cats lounging around. They all looked up as Knot and Turtle entered, falling silent at the sight of a stranger in their midst. Turtledove had to force herself not to shrink behind Knot, the only familiar figure and ally she had, instead locking her legs and concentrating on keeping her fur as flat as possible. A brown tabby tom and a pale gray queen approached, pelts brushing, faces neutral. Knot dipped his head respectfully to them as they came to a stop before the pair, Turtledove quick to copy him.

               “Knot. Good to see you caught some prey. This a friend of yours?” The tom, Rocky, assumedly, did not seem bothered by her presence, but she wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Knot finally put the rats he was carrying down, giving Rocky a blinding smile.

               “She is! Remember that hunter I told you about? Well, this is her. Rocky, this is, what was it, Turtle? Yes, Turtle, this is Rocky and his mate, Sapphire.” Excellent, but- oh stars, what do I say? Turtledove carefully put her prey down as well, giving another deferential nod, but said nothing, mind spinning.

               “I remember. Seems you managed to swindle her into helping, hm?” Knot looked affronted, but Rocky ignored him, focusing his attention on Turtledove instead. “Why do you bring us prey?” She cleared her throat.

               “I… recently became separated from my family. I don’t know if I can find them again, so I felt it best to find a group to join up with. I was told to look for Rocky and his colony, as they were recruiting new members. Then I ran into Knot, and well…” She shrugged, as if to say here I am. Rocky let out a considering hum.

               “You heard correctly. I am looking to expand my territory, and I need more cats to do that. And if Knot’s report on your hunting is true-” he glanced down at the prey, “then I would be more than happy to have a cat like you join us. I would have to put you on probation, of course. I’m guessing that’s not an issue?” Turtledove was quick to shake her head. “Excellent. These are the terms of probation- for the next week, you will stay with Knot. He will lead you around the territory, see how you hunt, see how you fight. If he approves, we will start assigning you to territory patrols and such with the other members. Provided everyone gets along, and you meet our standards, we’ll be happy to welcome you into our group.” So like being an apprentice, essentially. I can do that.

               “I can do that,” she mewed, trying to sound certain. Rocky nodded while Sapphire let out a purr.

               “I like the confidence,” the queen said. “I do hope you pass, Turtle. I have a feeling you’ll fit in quite well here.” Turtledove wasn’t sure about that, but she wasn’t one to pass up a boon. She murmured her gratitude, gaze dropping to her feet.

               “Knot,” Rocky said. “Show Turtle where she can sleep. Her probation starts this evening. I trust you know what to do.” Knot nodded happily, the leaders departing thereafter, heading back into the maze of boxes. The sky was really starting to lighten, and while they were talking it seemed cats had started retreating to their sleeping places, as only she and Knot were left standing in the open.

               “Come on,” he said brightly. “I’ll show you where you can sleep. For now, you’ll have to stick by me, but later you’ll be allowed to move if you want. Not sure why you would, though.” Turtledove rolled her eyes, starting to feel her exhaustion as she trailed after the dark gray tabby. He led her about halfway up a stack of crates, stopping at one that had a busted open side. In it was a pile of blankets and other soft things. Thankfully it was roomy enough that if she curled up tightly in the corner, she wouldn’t have to touch Knot at all. The tom sprawled out in his bed, comfortable on his back as he stretched his legs in the air, tail swishing happily. Turtledove sneezed as it brushed past her nose. “Alright, Turtle, have a good sleep. The real fun starts tonight.”

               “Can’t wait,” she murmured drily, eyes drifting shut as Knot chortled. She had a hard time in new nests, usually, and her experience in the Town so far had been miserable in trying to find a place to sleep. But now, she felt herself relaxing. Maybe it was because she finally felt safe- even though Knot was an almost complete stranger, he at least seemed uninterested in hurting her, and she knew for a fact no one would mess with him, which meant no one would mess with her. But honestly, she was so exhausted she could probably sleep in the middle of a road, at this point. Yes, it was good to finally get a break… Thoughts spinning lazily, she drifted off to sleep, Knot’s snores fading as she slipped away.

______________________________________________________________

               “Alright Spook, pitter patter. Your probation starts now!” How on earth is he so chipper all the time. Turtledove felt a lot better as she blinked her gritty eyes open, although she was stiff from staying curled up so tightly while she slept. The calico stretched luxuriously, unable to help the way she kneaded the soft blankets. I gotta say, I wish we had these back home. Maybe I can bring one back with me… Her daydream of starting an underground operation smuggling blankets into the forest was interrupted by Knot dragging his tail across her nose, causing her to let out a tremendous sneeze. She shot him an annoyed glare, rubbing at her nose. “There she is. Your eyes were open, but you were still sleeping, hm? No time for that now. You have your worth to prove, after all.” The words were a little anxiety inducing, because oh stars, what if she didn’t? What if she tried her best but they had ridiculously high standards, and she didn’t make the cut, and they kicked her out, and-

               Her spiraling thoughts were interrupted when she caught Knot lifting his tail again out of the corner of her eye. Turtledove batted it away with a hiss.

               “Cut that out. I’m up and ready, alright? What are we doing first?” Knot purred.

               “First, I’m going to take you to meet some friends. They like to spar and compete in other ways. I figured that would be a good way to test your skills. What about you? Do you even know how to fight?” Turtledove resented his critical gaze, clearly seeing that he didn’t have very high expectations. She huffed.

               “Yes. Doesn’t everybody?” He just smiled.

               “You’d be surprised.” With that, he turned and slipped out of the crate, Turtledove right on his heels. The base was bustling, now. Cats slipped in and out, a few hanging around. She caught a brief glimpse of Rocky speaking with an old gray tom, heard just a snippet of their conversation- yes, he’s being held over by the- before she had to duck through the hole in the fence, and once again was out in the alley. Knot started chatting away, seeming unbothered by her noncommittal hums and vague responses, leading her easily through the maze of streets. Turtledove was much more concerned with trying to memorize their route, connect it to the map in her head, pleased that she recognized a few of the buildings they passed from her wanderings. Eventually they came to an abandoned house, the windows broken and cracked, the lawn overgrown in a sad imitation of the forest. Knot took her into the house itself, and even though she knew there weren’t any humans there, her fur still pricked along her side. The tom cast her a curious look.

               “Don’t like houses?” Turtledove gave a terse shake of her head.

               “A human picked me up off the street and took me to their house. Once I got out, I had no idea where I was. Where my family was.” She paused dramatically. “So. No, I don’t like houses.” She felt a little bad when she caught Knot’s expression. It was the first time she had seen him not smiling.

               “I’m sorry to hear that.” He said solemnly. Uncomfortable, Turtledove just nodded, looking anywhere but her companion. After a moment, he cleared his throat, regaining his usual cheer. “Well, anyway, we just head up these stairs and we can see who’s around.” They creaked up the stairs together, Turtledove soon picking up the sound of cheers, murmurs, and yells. Down the hallway, to an open doorway, and she arrived at a makeshift sparring ring. Broken and scrapped furniture was pressed to the walls, about a dozen cats, mostly yearlings and a little older, lounging in pairs or groups. In the center of the room, in the clearest space, two mollies were sparring, good natured taunts and insults traded between them. The audience only added to the banter, shouting encouragement to their favorite or heckling their opponent. It was loud, and smelled weird, but there was an electricity to the air that had the warrior on her toes. This is like the Long Night Gathering, in a way. Knot led her to a group of toms, some of the rowdiest, all of whom seemed pleased to see him.

               “Knot!” A ginger tom called, grin nearly blinding. “Where you’ve been, you dog? And who’s your friend?” This last question was a bit too leering for Turtledove’s taste. She gave the tom a glare, but he seemed to only smile wider. Yeah, I can see him and Knot being friends.

“This is Turtle, she’s on probation with my colony.” Knot said, breezing past the insinuating tone. “I brought her here to see how well she can do in a fight. Think you could beat some sense into these guys?” It took a beat to realize this question was directed at her. She gave the group a critical once over, then sniffed.

               “I thought you said I was going to be challenged, Knot. Is this all you really have to offer?” There was a chorus of oohs from the toms, who began ribbing each other over the comment. Turtledove was just trying not to freak out. She was channeling her best imitation of a snooty Riverclanner and so far, it seemed to be working, but what if someone actually got offended?

               “Fighting words! I like it,” Knot boomed, eyes slit in amusement. “Here, Turtle, why don’t you go next? See who wants to give you a challenge.” The idea of fighting while under the eye of a bunch of strange cats, especially cats her age, was about the most terrifying thing she could think of. She’d rather find herself face to face with Featherfall in a dark alley. But really, this was all for that goal- safety for her Clan, for Poppypaw, for the whole territory, really, so she searched deep down inside herself and tried to find some courage. Taking a slow, deep breath, she nodded. Knot gestured for her to settle in next to him, and she quietly watched the rest of the fight, not really paying attention as her mind spun. Okay, remember what Shadefur said, what you practiced, this is only a spar, Turtle, so don’t worry too much…

               “And we have a winner! Mouse beats Sky!” The announcer crowed, leading the cheer for their champion. The two mollies gave each other friendly nods before returning to their respective friends, panting with exertion. “Alright, we’re ready for another round, aren’t we friends? Who wants to go next?”

               “Turtle does!” She hadn’t even gotten a chance to blink before Knot was happily volunteering her. Stomach churning, she made her way over to the sparring ring. There were murmurs and shouts- wow, little thing huh? Who is she? I don’t know! Well, it’s the little ones you gotta watch out for- which she did her best to block out. The warrior came to a stop next to the announcer, a scrawny black and white tom, who gave her a friendly nod. Turtledove gave a shaky one in return.

               “Alright, who else!”

               “I’ll try!” Came a bold voice, and a young tom bounced down to the floor. He was young, younger than Turtledove, definitely, and seemed more confident than he should be. Probably doesn’t think I’m much of a threat. She relaxed a bit. I can do this at least.

“Okay, Snail, if you’re sure.” Turtledove squinted. Yes, she supposed the tom’s swirling stripes did resemble a snail shell. “Here’s the rules, you two. Claws stay sheathed. Biting is allowed, but if you draw blood, it’s over. First pinned for five seconds or whoever forfeits first loses. Alright?” The contestants nodded. “Okay then, on your mark, set… go!” The announcer sprung away, leaving Snail and Turtledove staring each other down. The warrior relaxed her shoulders, taking a loose stance. Her opponent eyed her critically, but his eyes were twinkling and his tail was twitching in excitement. He’ll make a mistake. Quickly, too, most like. The thought had barely crossed her mind when the tabby lunged, Turtledove easily sidestepping. Again, Snail tried to slam into her, and again she dodged. A boo rang out.

               “Come on! Do something!” If Turtledove wanted to impress these cats, she obviously needed to put on a bit of a show. This time, when Snail once again threw himself clumsily toward her, she sprung straight into the air. She couldn’t help but smile as he stumbled, then looked up in confusion as she came back down, landing squarely on his back. The tabby collapsed with an oof. In what she could admit was showing off, Turtledove pulled him into a roll, using the movement to flip the tom and slam him on his back, on paw pressed lightly on his throat. He looked up at her in shock.

               “Good enough for me!” The announcer called, stepping back up into the ring. “And in short order, Turtle is our winner! Good try, though, Snail.” The young tom seemed abashed, and Turtledove couldn’t help but feel badly for the way he was heckled as he returned to his friends. “Not much of a match for our new friend, I’m afraid. Anybody else want to try?” It really was too much to hope that that would be enough, huh? Turtledove tried to not let her anxiety rear its ugly head again.

               “Yeah, I’ll have a go.” Another tom, a dark brown tabby, and as he approached Turtledove noticed his front paws were twisted outward, giving him an odd gait. If he’s confident enough to challenge me, he must have a work around. Or something to prove. Both of which made him dangerous, especially together. Turtledove braced herself for an actual fight this time.

               “Alright Twist! Same rules apply, try not to hurt her too bad, alright?” Alright, that was not encouraging. But then again, they didn’t think she could fight, so maybe she’d be fine? Or maybe it wouldn’t matter, maybe this tom was that good, twisted paws be damned- “Begin!”

Turtledove barely ducked the blow, instinct kicking in as her opponent pressed her forward, swiping mercilessly and not giving her any time to recover. She ducked and bobbed, looking for an opening, trying to block out the sounds of cheers and heckling and Knot booming get ‘em, Spook! every three seconds. To the crowd, it may look like he had her on the run, but she was watching his every move, specifically how he balanced on his hind paws when he went to take some swipes at her. It must be uncomfortable to place weight on one twisted paw- he never did, always using his hind legs to balance, weight on one or the other to pivot, and landing on both forepaws simultaneously when he came down, lunging into her space immediately to keep her from retaliating. And yeah, she could fight dirty, and probably should, which meant she should do something to make him land on just one forepaw and then press the advantage, but that would probably hurt, right? And she didn’t want to actually hurt him, and besides, this would probably look a lot cooler anyway-

               The next time Twist raised up to try and hit her, Turtledove crouched as far down as she could, launching herself across the dusty floor on her belly. The warrior crashed directly into one of his hind legs, the one not supporting as much weight, causing the tom to buckle. As he did, she pushed up, hard, digging her shoulders into his stomach, driving the wind out of him and sending him sprawling, on him a heartbeat later. He recovered a little faster than she expected, trying to lunge back up at her, but she planted both forepaws on his chest and shoved him back down. Small as she was, it was hard for him to snake his hind legs underneath her to kick her off, and the way she had him pinned didn’t give him a lot of leverage. Twist smacked at her, but his twisted paws and the lack of claws made it easy to absorb the blows, and as the crowd chanted five, four, three, two, one! Twist slumped to the floor in defeat. Turtle stepped off him immediately, breathing hard, and gave him a respectful nod.

               “Good fight,” she rasped, and he nodded as well, something glittering in his eyes. The announcer stepped back up to them, an excited grin dancing across his face.

               “And again, Turtle is victorious! Excellent work, both of you. I gotta say, tiny, that was pretty clever.” Turtledove nervously accepted the praise, happy to finally scoot back over to where Knot and his friends were. The toms clamored over each other, their cries of so cool! and I told you, the small ones- suddenly becoming overwhelming. Turtledove tried to hide how her anxiety suddenly ratcheted, gaze flicking between the group in front of her, and suddenly the dusty smell of the room was making her sick, the sounds piercing and grating, her breath starting to come quicker-

               “Alright, you vultures, leave her alone! It’s time for us to go, anyway. Plenty of things to do!” And she never thought she would be grateful for Knot, but his impenetrable cheer formed a barrier between her and the others, the tom waving off their disappointment with ease and leading her out of the room, down the hallway, the stairs, then out of the house, into the cool night air, and Turtledove could finally breathe. She took in a ragged gasp. Knot started chatting to her like she wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown, guiding her out of the yard and down the sidewalk.

               “Good job in there, Spook, Rocky will be happy to know you took down Twist. He’s- well, not part of our colony, but he is a member of an affiliate colony, and even though we work together there is a bit of a rivalry, there, you know? Anyway, you did good. Now we’re just gonna go see the boundaries, or, well, the approximate boundaries of our territory. There’s some dispute over the exact lines, of course, but there’s a point where you definitely don’t cross without pissing someone off-” The two young cats continued on, the warrior’s breath coming easier each passing moment, the tom never stopping his one-sided conversation, making their way down the street to their next destination, all the while unaware of the two shadows that trailed after them, watching their every move.

First|Previous|Next

[overgrowth-wc]

PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER FOUR

IN THE PINES

Emberpaw might be a menace, but she's also got a stubborn streak a mile wide and a temper to match. These might not be good things, necessarily, but they might just serve her well in the end. Poppypaw seems to think so, anyway.

               It was a beautiful day in Shadowclan, and Emberpaw was getting bored. She was eating with her uncle- well. Mentor. Crowcall, however you wanted to call him. They had spent the afternoon hunting together, and now had some down time before they started night training with her brothers and their mentors. Their aunts. Briarmask and Batflight, whatever. It was peaceful, and quiet, Crowcall contentedly munching on a lizard, but Emberpaw was done with her food and now feeling restless. A thought struck her then, and she turned to Crowcall with a curious look.

               “Uncle Crowcall, when are you and Auntie having kittens?” It was a fair question, in Emberpaw’s opinion, seeing as they had recently gotten bonded, and Mama always said that cats got bonded so that they could have babies- apparently, you couldn’t do one without the other. So why was Crowcall choking on his food?

               “Emberpaw,” he wheezed, “remember our conversation about personal questions?”

               “Yeah, of course I do, I do pay attention you know!” She immediately responded, feeling a bit defensive. I’m not Sparkpaw, stars’ sake. “You said it’s not polite to ask cats really personal questions, especially when they’re eating or sneaking or having a conversation with someone else.” Crowcall let out one last hack before stopping, fixing her with a narrowed gaze.

               “And if you remember that, why would you ask me about having kittens when I’m eating?” Emberpaw was nonplussed.

               “You’re not ‘cats.’ You’re my uncle. And my mentor. You don’t count.” Obviously. But Crowcall seemed unimpressed, and she couldn’t help the way her ears drooped, uncertainty sparking in her stomach. At her change in demeaner, the tom softened a bit, although he still let out a sigh.

               “Alright, how about this- don’t ask anyone personal questions when they’re eating or anything else like that, including cats you think don’t count. It’s so you don’t surprise them, like you just surprised me.” Emberpaw nodded, perking back up, although internally that spark of uncertainty flared towards annoyance. Why not just say that the first time then?

               “Well, that makes sense.” She paused, eyeing Crowcall carefully. He stared back at her. “So, anytime soon?” Crowcall let out another heavy sigh, but Emberpaw wasn’t one to let something like a sigh deter her, so she waited somewhat patiently for a response.

               “Well, it’s not just something that you can just… make happen the moment you want it to,” he hedged, ear flicking. “Uh, babies… happen when the ancestors decide to send them to a couple. After they’re bonded. So, I don’t know, uh, when Briarmask and I will have kittens.” A bit unsatisfying, but also totally in line with what Mama said about the subject, so she just nodded. Crowcall seemed relieved. “Besides, we’re a little overrun with kittens right now. I think the ancestors will probably wait a little bit before they send us more.”

               That was also probably true. While Emberpaw and her brothers had been out of the nursery for a moon now, it was more crowded than ever, as the Six were now almost ready to be apprenticed and Brooksong’s kits were getting bigger every day. Heck, Scratchkit was bigger than Tulipstem now- it was a miracle everyone still fit in the den.

               “I suppose that does make sense,” Emberpaw hummed. “The Six will be in our den soon, though. Maybe the ancestors will give you kittens after that.” It was fun having so many friends her age around, and she wanted to keep a good thing going- especially for Lichen and Newt and Gray, who had never known a world where they weren’t surrounded by friends. They’ll get lonely with just themselves.

               “Speaking of,” Crowcall said quickly, “we have some time still until the sun sets. Why don’t you go see your friends before we head out? I know I’ve been keeping you busy lately. It’s been a bit since you hung out.” Emberpaw felt it was more she was keeping him busy, but was kind enough to let him think what he wanted. Anyway, it had been a few days since she had been able to play with the others- it would be good to talk to Beekit. Emberpaw sprung up with a grin, giving Crowcall a nudge before bounding towards the nursery, the black tom shaking his head fondly after her. The Six were outside with their mother, playing after dinner. Tulipstem seemed to be dozing, but one ear was pricked, and Emberpaw knew they wouldn’t be able to get into any mischief with her on guard. Oh well, there were other things to do besides putting bugs in Sparkpaw’s nest. Beekit perked up when she saw the apprentice coming, bounding over to meet her, eyes crinkled in a happy smile.

               “Hey, Ember, I thought you’d forgotten about me!” She chirped, and while Emberpaw would usually bristle at such a comment she knew Beekit never meant things in a mean way. The tortoiseshell purred, kneading the ground.

               “No way! I’ve just been busy keeping Crowcall out of trouble. We’re gonna do some more training tonight, but I wanted to hang out before we go. What’s been happening?” Beekit’s smile grew a little more delighted, and she cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening before she leaned in, voice barely more than a whisper.

               ��You can’t tell anyone else, because I promised I wouldn’t tell, but you’re my best friend so you don’t count,” the little tabby whispered, and Emberpaw gave her a serious nod, leaning in closer as well. “Patchkit told me yesterday that he had a really weird dream, and when he told Mama and Papa about it they took him to Fernfire, and now…” Another furtive look. “He’s gonna be Fernfire’s apprentice! Can you believe it? Patch is gonna be a medicine cat!” Emberpaw’s eyes grew wide in wonder. Patch? Their little Patch, who was shy and scared of his own shadow, was their new star born?

               “Wow,” the tortoiseshell breathed, “that’s so cool! When are they telling everyone?” Beekit shook her head.

               “I don’t know,” she mewed, leaning back on her haunches. “He just said not to tell anyone, so probably not ‘til our ceremonies.”

               “Papa is very dramatic like that,” Emberpaw agreed. “He probably wants to make it a surprise for everyone. It’s been a long time since Fernfire became a full medicine cat, so it’s about time he got an apprentice.” The two mollies continued their chat, now less centered on gossip and more about Emberpaw’s training and Beekit’s recent exploits, until the sun set and their respective guardians came to collect them. Tulipstem called Beekit in for bed just as Crowcall padded up to them, and Emberpaw bid her friend a fond farewell before turning expectantly to her mentor.

               “We’re doing something a bit different tonight,” Crowcall said with a smile, and Emberpaw’s tail shot up in delight.

______________________________________________________________

               “Alright, you three,” Briarmask said, nearly impossible to see in the dark of the forest, “we have a new challenge for you.” Emberpaw, Sunpaw, and Sparkpaw, along with their mentors, were gathered in a cluster of pines on the north side of the territory, close to where the trees thinned and the swamp took over. “We’ve been focusing on how to sneak around and the different environments you’ll have to navigate. Tonight, we three-” here, she gestured at herself and the other mentors, “will be traveling to different spots on the territory. Your jobs will be to track and find your mentor while remaining undetected.”

               “We’ve recruited a few other warriors to try and find you,” Batflight said, fangs catching the faint starlight. “But you won’t know who they are unless they catch you, so you’ll have to really be on the lookout. If you get caught, you lose, but if you find us before you’re found, you win.”

               “Winners get first pick of dinner tomorrow night,” Crowcall said, “losers get last pick. And honestly, don’t worry if you get caught tonight. This is only the first time we’ll be doing something like this, and it’s mostly just to see how quickly you’re picking things up, and see what areas we need to focus on, alright?” Briarmask coughed out something like softie, which had Crowcall rolling his eyes. That’s all well and good, but I don’t need to worry, ‘cause I’m gonna win. Emberpaw had an advantage over her brothers, with her dark mottled pelt and lithe frame- she’d be a lot harder to see, especially with the new moon offering no help to their pursuers. Sparkpaw and Sunpaw, with their bright orange pelts and bulkier builds, would have a much harder time of it.

               “Alright, you three ready?” Briarmask asked, and all three siblings nodded seriously, expressions ranging from excited to nervous. “Close your eyes then, and count aloud slowly to thirty. And I mean slowly, Sparkpaw, no cheating,” she warned, and the orange tom gave her a cheeky nod.

               “Of course, Auntie, you can trust me!” He chirped, and Briarmask narrowed her eyes.

               “Sunpaw, you do the counting, Emberpaw and Sparkpaw, you listen to your brother,” she said, and then spoke over the apprentice’s complaints. “Alright, get ready, and… begin!” The world went completely dark as Emberpaw obeyed the command, and she strained to listen to the mentors walk away as Sunpaw began counting. He seemed to enjoy torturing his brother and sister, as he counted so slowly that by the time he said thirty, Emberpaw felt like ants were crawling through her fur.

               “Finally, Sunny!” Sparkpaw whined, springing to his feet. “Alright, let’s go!”

               The three mentors had stayed together for a bit, and so the siblings did as well, until they came to the very edge of the trees. The apprentices took a minute to detangle the scents, but then each found their mentor- Batflight had curved back around deeper into the trees, Briarmask had veered off towards the Dump, and Crowcall had headed straight into the swamp. Ugh, he knows I hate the mud. Wishing her brothers luck, Emberpaw slunk into the tall grass, remembering abruptly that oh yeah, someone would be following her, and she needed to be careful. Immediately she pressed herself almost all the way to the ground, making sure her belly fur didn’t drag an obvious trail through the damp soil. The apprentice tried to stick to the driest and darkest areas she could find, wholly focused on following Crowcall’s scent, until a little blip of color in the corner of her eye caught her attention. When she turned to look, she saw a little red flower peeping between the grasses off to her right. Like a flash, she remembered the first Gathering she had been to, and the medicine cat that had spoken to her.

               Honestly, the interaction had slipped her mind like smoke upon her return home, and she had never brought it up to anyone, too concerned with her impending apprentice ceremony and then her training to remember. But now the memory hit her full force, clear as if it had just happened. The first spring blooms. Find me in the pines. Like a moth to a flame, Emberpaw carefully walked over to the flower, spotting another one some distance away. An undeniable urge to follow overcame her, and, abandoning her task, she began searching out the trail of flowers. They lead her away from the marsh, back into the forest, until she came to a hollowed-out stump absolutely covered in them. And there, atop of it, blinking into existence like a twinkling star, was Poppypaw.

               “Hello, Emberpaw,” she grinned, “it’s so good to see you again.” Emberpaw blinked in astonishment at her sudden appearance, unable to understand. Not even the best Shadowclan warriors can appear from thin air, even if it looks like it. So how…? Unless-

“You’re a ghost,” she heard herself saying, and Poppypaw’s grin only widened. “How- only medicine cats can see ghosts-”

               “Ah, the ancestors can bless anyone of their choosing,” Poppypaw gently interrupted, “and they have decided to give this gift to you. Which is very good news, because I need the help of someone who can see the spirits of those passed.” She wasn’t smiling anymore. “I am blocked from entering Starclan, Emberpaw, because my death was not planned. Until my murderer is brought to justice, I am stuck here.” Realization struck like lightning.

               “You’re the one they’re always talking about!” Emberpaw gasped. “Why the spies went into the Town, and those cats who attacked Spark and Fernfire- that’s about you, right?” Poppypaw nodded somberly.

               “Indeed, I am the one in question. I cannot express how grateful I am, that all the Clans seek to help me go home. But there are things they don’t know, and can’t know, without the help of the spirits and those who can see them. Which is where you come in, Emberpaw. I need you to help me communicate with the Clans. I need you to seek out the spirits in the Town, and enlist their aid as well. The Clans cannot succeed without our help, and we can’t help them without you.” This was… a lot. Emberpaw was the only one who could speak to the ghosts? Ghosts, plural, because apparently there were ghosts in the Town she needed to talk to?

               “I… we’re not allowed in the Town right now,” she hedged, ears flicking uncertainly. “Dad says it’s too dangerous, that we have to wait until they find that cat. The one who…”

               “I hate to ask this of you,” Poppypaw mewed, “but I feel I have no choice. You have to go to the Town, Emberpaw, whether you’re allowed to or not. I know it’s dangerous, and that you could get in trouble for it, but please, will you help me? Not only my fate, but the fates of many others depend on it.” Well, what could she say to that? A little flare of determination and excitement flickered to life in her chest, then, and Emberpaw tried to imitate her father’s confident grin.

               “Getting in trouble has never stopped me,” she boasted, “and besides, if I’m the only one who can help, then that settles things, right? Dad and everyone can’t get mad at me for doing what the ancestors say.” She paused, cocking her head to give Poppypaw a considering look. “Although, are you actually anybody’s ancestor?” Poppypaw just laughed.

               “Thank you for your help, Emberpaw,” the other tortoiseshell said, and then all of a sudden her smile dropped and she looked… regretful? “And remember the other thing I said- you can survive the coming fire. I promise. I believe in you.” And then she was gone, and Emberpaw was left to stare at a stump covered in wilting red flowers. I’m really not a fan of her dropping ominous warnings and then disappearing, she grumbled to herself, rising to her feet. And I should probably go try to find Crowcall before…

               Too late. She could just hear distant cries of her name, and tried to come up with an excuse as she started off towards the noise. Her thoughts ground to a halt, though, as she drew closer and realized that Crowcall didn’t sound upset, he sounded… frantic? And wait, was that blood she smelled? She took off at a sprint, now calling out herself.

               “Uncle! Uncle, I’m right here!” Bursting through some scrub, she almost knocked straight into Crowcall, who seemed to sag with relief at the sight of her.

               “Thank the stars,” he gasped, and she could only stare at the scratches on his face, the ruffled fur, the smell of blood and something more acrid, almost but not quite familiar. “Are you hurt? Did you run into anyone else?”

               “No, no, I’m not hurt, I didn’t- what happened?” She pressed, nearly vibrating with anxiety. “Who hurt you?”

               “An ambush.” He said, but he wasn’t calming down. If anything, he was starting to get worked back up, fur prickling, and he began pushing her towards camp. “We need to get back home, now.”

               “What about the others?” She demanded as she stumbled along, concern for her brothers and aunts suddenly racing through her. “Where are they, are they alright?” Crowcall’s eyes became pained.

               “Batflight and Sunpaw are fine,” he said, and her stomach dropped because what about- “Briarmask and Sparkpaw were attacked, I found them when I came looking for you. Briar- she’s-” he choked a bit, and now Emberpaw felt numb, she’s what, she’s what- “Hurt. Badly. They were bringing her back to camp-”

               “Where’s my brother.” Emberpaw blurted out, stopping dead in her tracks, shaking so hard now she bit her tongue. The taste of blood, the smell of it, made her feel sick- “Where’s Sparkpaw?” Crowcall stopped to look at her, copper eyes bright with pain and fear and worry.

               “They took him. He’s gone.”

               Emberpaw was numb. Anything she tried to say lodged in her throat like bones, and so she raced back to camp in silence, Crowcall only growing more upset the closer they got. They burst through the thorns together, Emberpaw not even flinching as one caught on her ear in their haste. Her parents were in the clearing, a shaking Sunpaw pressed into their mother’s side, Batflight murmuring to him quietly. Lizardspots was trying to calm a raging Rosestar, who spit and snarled and paced like a tiger from the elder’s stories.

               “I want every available warrior out there, right now!” He was hissing, “They need to find them-” Emberpaw finally found her voice.

               “Papa!” She wailed, racing towards her father, and he whipped around to face her, blue eyes bright with tears.

               “Praise the ancestors,” he gasped, wrapping a paw around the tortoiseshell as she crashed into him. “Thank you, stars above, Ember, we thought you were gone too-” Pinenose shuffled Sunpaw forward so they could crowd together, and the press of her family only made her feel worse, because Sparkpaw should be there, but he was gone gone gone-

               “We have to find him,” she said desperately. “We- they can’t, Papa, they can’t just take him!”

               “I will find him if I have to burn the whole Town down, Ember, I promise you that.” Rosestar swore, and then all of a sudden, he had that look, the one where he wasn’t just her father, he was the leader of Shadowclan. It came over him like a wave, his expression now set, his fur flattening, and he threw back his head with a howl.

               “Batflight, Blackear, Spidershade, Browntail, Loudstorm, Frogthroat, Marshfoot- you all are coming with me. Batflight, show us where the attack happened. We’ll go from there.” The assembled warriors nodded seriously, Batflight trying to school her devastated expression. “Piketail, Shadefur, Bluebird, and Snakepelt, guard the camp. Beetlewhisker, I want you with Fernfire. The rest of you, stay alert. Keep the queens and kits in the nursery. Lizardspots, you’re in charge while we’re gone.” He then pressed his nose to Pinenose’s forehead, and they sat there for a moment, eyes closed, before he pulled away, lip curling once more. “Warriors! To me!” And with a final nudge to his children, Rosestar led his warriors out of the camp and into the night, his family staring after him.

               “It’s alright, darlings,” Pinenose soothed the apprentices, although her voice was choked. “Your father will bring Sparkpaw home. If they were going to hurt him, they would have. They took him alive for a reason.” Emberpaw didn’t know if she was trying to convince them or herself, but it did make her feel a bit better. Mama is right- Sparkpaw is at least alive. And Papa won’t let them get away with this. But… Pulling back from her mother, she looked up at her in concern.

               “Where’s Auntie Briar?” Emberpaw whispered, afraid of the answer. “Is she alright?” Pinenose looked at her with somber eyes.

               “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Fernfire sent Webheart to get Snowdrift. Said he needed the extra paws. We will just have to pray that the ancestors will be kind to us.” Emberpaw swallowed hard. He sent for help? It must be bad. “Come. We can wait outside the medicine den for him to tell us what’s happening.” The apprentices trailed after their mother, Emberpaw now focusing her concern on Sunpaw, whose eyes were wide and staring.

               “Sunny?” She whispered, nudging his cheek. “Are you okay?”

               “I saw them take him,” he whispered, gaze still fixed on nothing. “Shadefur caught me before I got very far. Me and him and Batflight were going to meet up with Auntie and Spark when we heard the screaming.” Emberpaw shuddered, Sunpaw just stared. “There were at least six cats. Auntie was fighting three of them- the others were dragging Spark away. He was yelling something awful. Uncle showed up then, and they ran when they saw us coming, Shadefur said there were too many of them, that we had to help Auntie, I think she was dying-“ He clammed up after that, tears now starting to roll down his face, and all Emberpaw knew to do was press up against him and purr as hard as she could. Oh stars, why is this happening? They joined their mother in front of Fernfire’s den, and a moment later there was movement from the entrance. It was Crowcall, staggering towards them, and Emberpaw immediately leapt to her feet and hurried to his side. She let him lean on her as he sank to the ground, trembling.

               “Is she alright?” She couldn’t help but press. “Is she-”

               “She’s alive,” Crowcall croaked. “Besides that, I don’t know.” Emberpaw fell silent, not knowing what to say. She just put her chin on Crowcall’s head and purred like she did for Sunpaw. Her brother slunk over a moment later, closely followed by Pinenose, and soon they were all huddled together, seeking and giving what comfort they could. It felt like an eternity later when there was rustling at the entrance and a bright white blur pushed through. Snowdrift is finally here. He was carrying a large bundle, odd eyes determined, and he barely spared them all a glance as he swept into the den. Emberpaw pressed further into Crowcall’s side.

               Now all we can do is wait.

______________________________________________________________

               The sun rose before they had their answer about Briarmask. Rosestar had yet to return.

               “She’s not out of the woods,” an exhausted Fernfire had said, ears and eyes drooping. “She lost a lot of blood. Right now, we have to wait and see if she wakes up. After that, we have to watch for infection. If she can survive the next few days, though, I think she’ll make it.” If she wakes up? You think she’ll make it? Emberpaw wanted to scream, to sink her claws into the cats who did this, who took her brother and might be the reason that Auntie-

               “Emberpaw,” Sunpaw whispered, “you’re scaring me.” Too late, she realized her fur was bristling and her lips were pulled back in a silent snarl. Immediately she tried to relax, giving her brother an apologetic nudge.

               “I’m sorry, Sunny,” she murmured. “I’m just… angry.” It was just the two of them together, now. Their mother had gone to speak to Lizardspots. Crowcall had been allowed into the medicine den. Snowdrift had left, escorted by Webheart and Piketail. And the sun was above the horizon now, and Rosestar still wasn’t home. Emberpaw wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Do you want anything to eat?” She tried. Sunpaw loved eating, it was his favorite activity, always saying the sun is round, so I need to be too, but now he just silently shook his head. Emberpaw was stumped, and so she just sat there, unsure of what to do.

               “Do you think they’ll find him?” Sunpaw whispered. “The Town’s so big, and if these are the rogues that evil cat is in charge of…” Emberpaw scowled.

               “Don’t talk like that,” she snapped. “Of course they’ll find him. Papa promised. And Sparkpaw’s smart, he probably got away from them, and…” Emberpaw felt bad about snapping, because Sunpaw was crying now, paws over his face, and her stomach tightened with guilt. “I, I’m sorry, Sunny, I didn’t mean-”

               There was movement at the entrance, and both apprentices bolted up, focused desperately on who was coming through. Did they-? But it was only Rosestar, dejected, covered in mud, blue eyes dull, the other warriors trailing after him with dragging tails, defeat clinging to the group like the muck in their fur. Emberpaw thought her heart was going to stop. She went to move forward, but her mother beat her to it, Pinenose loping across the clearing to Rosestar, heartbreak lurking in the corners of her eyes.

               “Rosey,” she said, and even though her voice was little more than a whisper it rang through the silent clearing. “Is he-?”

               “We couldn’t find them,” Rosestar rasped, and he spit the words like poison. “They disappeared into the Town, further than we’ve ever gone. No one would help us. No one saw anything.” That rage was building back up inside Emberpaw’s chest, her skin feeling too tight, because how dare they, how dare they take him, how dare they refuse to help, how dare they-

               Now she didn’t care if she was scaring Sunpaw, she let out a furious hiss, stubbornly blinking away the tears prickling her eyes. Rosestar looked up at the noise, and Emberpaw couldn’t stand the pain in them.

               “Emberpaw-”

               “We have to find him,” she snarled, hating the way they all were looking at her now, a mixture of pity and pain, “I- I don’t care, I’ll find him myself if I have to-”

               “Emberpaw,” and Rosestar was serious now, expression firm enough that Emberpaw’s fury stumbled, “you are forbidden from leaving this camp alone. We don’t know if this was targeted, if they took Sparkpaw to get to me. They could go after you and Sunpaw now.” Instead of cooling her rage, that only enflamed it.

               “I don’t care if they come after me, Spark is my brother! He’s- Spark and Sunny, they’re-” Now, Emberpaw didn’t really talk about the fact that she and her brothers were adopted. None of them did. They had heard the story, of course, of how Auntie Briar and Auntie Nettle saved them, brought them to the Clan, how Auntie Nettle died fighting the rats to give them a chance. And Sparkpaw and Sunpaw, they had been fine with just what they had been told. They were happy in Shadowclan with their parents and their friends, and while they all felt the weight of Nettleclaw’s sacrifice, they didn’t think much of how they had come to the Clan. But Emberpaw… she couldn’t help but wonder. She loved her parents, of course, was so happy to have them and be loved by them, but what about her natural parents? A human had brought them to the Dump, not a cat. Did their natural parents want them? Were they sad they had been taken away? And they had been taken away, right? What if it happened again? And it had, look, Sparkpaw had just been taken away, and Emberpaw couldn’t stand it, she wouldn’t let them take her brother, one of the two cats she had always had, the ones she always thought she would have, she wouldn’t let them, she couldn’t let them-

               “It’s okay, Emberpaw, just breathe,” someone very far away was saying, and Emberpaw realized she was hyperventilating, the sudden realization jolting her into a panic, because she couldn’t breathe, her chest so tight she felt like she was being crushed. “Come on, now, deep breath in. Feel how I do it, alright? Deep breath.” Someone was pressed against her side, and she could feel the way they took a deep, steady breath, and she did her best to imitate it. It took a few tries, but she managed something more than a shallow gasp, her chest loosening a bit. “There we go, froglet, now another. Good work.” Slowly, with every breath, she came back to herself. She was shaking, her worried parents and Sunpaw nearby, and Fernfire was pressed up against her, helping her calm down. “Alright, there we go. Feeling better?” Emberpaw managed a shaky nod, although she couldn’t speak yet. “You’re okay, Emberpaw. You just need to relax.” And how am I supposed to do that? My brother is missing, she wanted to snap, but that wouldn’t help anything now. And besides, she was too tired to even speak. The apprentice just slumped forward, exhausted, and Fernfire let out a sigh. “You and Sunpaw need to get some sleep. Go to your nests, I’ll bring you some poppy seeds.”

               Slowly, Sunpaw came over to Emberpaw’s side, helping her stumble to her feet. Together they made their way over to their den, halting outside of it. It smells like Sparkpaw. Emberpaw felt sick.

               “I don’t want to go in there,” Sunpaw whispered, and Emberpaw was all too happy to agree. Casting her gaze around, she caught sight of the nursery, and the familiarity and comfort of the thorn bush called out to her in a way she couldn’t ignore. Wordlessly, she nudged Sunpaw towards it, and he went without protest. Together, they slid through the narrow entrance, a worried Tulipstem and Brooksong greeting them in soft tones.

               “Do you mind if we stay here?” Emberpaw asked in a small voice. The queens shook their heads, their friends staring at them with wide eyes. The apprentices made their way to their old nest in the corner, now crowded with Mumblekit, Patchkit, and Beekit, the kittens shuffling over to make room for them. Emberpaw and Sunpaw curled up together tightly, joined one after another by their friends, until there were so many others pressed up against her that Emberpaw could almost ignore the fact that Sparkpaw wasn’t there. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, she let the exhaustion wash over her, and soon after, she was asleep.

______________________________________________________________

               “Emberpaw.” A whisper. “Ember, wake up.” A pointed prod in the ribs. But Emberpaw didn’t want to wake up. Waking up meant that Sparkpaw wasn’t there, and everything was a mess, and… A sharp prick of a claw now, and that all too familiar anger flared up. Lifting her head, Emberpaw turned her narrowed glare on Patchkit, the little tom wilting but standing his ground. “You need to get up,” he insisted in a whisper, and reality started sinking in. It was dark. Emberpaw was in the nursery, but it seemed she had rolled away from the others, now by herself up against the woven wall of the den. Patchkit was standing over her, ears flicking nervously. “Poppypaw told me to get you.” Now that got her attention.

               “Poppypaw told you?” She hissed quietly. “You can see her too?” Patchkit shook his head.

               “Not, not really, I just had a dream. There was a molly, she said her name was Poppypaw, and that I needed to tell you to wake up and go to her. She’s at the stump.” Patchkit’s dark blue eyes were wide with worry. “Emberpaw, what is going on?”

               “If you help me sneak out, and you promise not to tell anybody about this, I’ll tell you everything.” She said quickly, carefully rising to her feet. “I mean nobody, Patchkit. Not Beekit, not your mom, nobody. You have to swear.” Patchkit hesitated for a moment before nodding, turning his cheek to Poppypaw with a solemn look. Understanding, Emberpaw reached forward, delicately grabbed one white whisker between her teeth, and pulled with a swift yank. To his credit Patchkit was silent, although he flinched. Emberpaw then turned her own cheek, wincing as Patchkit pulled one of her whiskers out as well. Laying them on the ground together, both young cats placed a paw on top of them.

               “I swear that I won’t tell anyone about this,” Patchkit whispered solemnly. “May all my whiskers fall out if I do.”

               “I swear I’ll tell you about everything,” Emberpaw returned. “May all my whiskers fall out if I don’t.” Pact made, Patchkit looked nervously around the den before leading her to the very back of it. Moving some old bedding out of the way, he pointed at a shallow hole that led under the thorns.

               “It’s an escape tunnel,” Patchkit whispered. “We had one in the Town, in our den there. Mama told the other queens about that when we moved here, and Rosestar thought it was a good idea. It’s supposed to be a secret, though. It leads out into the log pile around camp. From there, you can wiggle your way outside. You’re small enough that you should still fit.” His eyes were once again gleaming with worry. “Please be careful, Ember, we can’t lose you too.” Emberpaw gave him a comforting lick, trying to muster a smile.

               “Don’t worry, Patch, I’ll be back soon. I’ll come back through the dirt place, so if anyone wakes up and asks where I am, just tell them I went there, okay? I’ll worry about the rest.” The little gray and white tom nodded. Emberpaw took a deep breath, then carefully worked her way through the hole and out the other side, wincing as the thorn bush scraped against her back. From there, she navigated her way through the cluster of logs, and soon she was on the other side, on the very edges of the camp boundary. She froze, ears pricked, mouth open, scenting for anyone or anything. It was quiet, nothing sticking out, so she cast a careful look around-

               There.

               A small red bloom, winking at her from the base of a pine. Steeling herself, Emberpaw slunk forward into the night. The blooms led her along just like the first time, winding through the territory back to the stump from the night before, the flowers once again vibrant and alive. Poppypaw was already there, staring out into the darkness towards the Town.

               “Did you know?” Emberpaw blurted, meeting Poppypaw’s solemn gaze with a glare. “Did you know they were taking Sparkpaw while we were talking?” The spirit shook her head.

               “No, I just had a bad feeling. I’m not…” And for the first time, the medicine cat seemed frustrated. “I don’t have the same power that Starclan has. It’s more like what I felt as a medicine cat when I was alive. I get feelings, I can interpret signs… but no, I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen. I just know that there are difficult times ahead, but, well. I guess you don’t need to be in Starclan to see that.” Poppypaw shook her head. “Anyway, when I left, I went to see if I could find any Town ghosts. I can’t leave Clan territory, you see, but I can get to the border of Town. I was hoping some spirit from there might come by. But I saw those cats with Sparkpaw- he was alive, and didn’t look too hurt, just a few scratches.” Emberpaw could have fallen over, she was so relieved. Mama was right. “And I tried to guide your father and the search party to where they crossed, but I wasn’t very successful. They went in at a different point, and I think that’s why they had a hard time following the trail. If we can make contact with the Town ghosts, they can help us find Sparkpaw and Featherfall. I know the Clans sent spies into the Town, but what better spy than a spirit that only you can see?” Emberpaw was getting excited, but then she remembered what her father had said, that none of the Town cats had helped them.

               “Why would the Town ghosts help us?” Emberpaw asked, bitterness coloring her tone. “Papa said they wouldn’t help him find Sparkpaw. Why would dead Town cats be any different?” Poppypaw hesitated for a moment, before her brow furrowed in determination.

               “I met a good Town ghost,” she insisted. “Her name was Dolly. She was looking for the spirits of her babies- Town cats don’t go to Starclan when they die, of course. And with no one to pray for them, or lead them into the next life, a lot of them linger. Anyway, Dolly told me she had been friends with Shadowclan in life. If we can find her, I’m sure she would be a friend to us now as well.” Well… alright. If this would save Sparkpaw, and help Poppypaw, then she would do whatever it took to find Dolly.

               “So I need to find Dolly, then? What does she look like?”

               “She’s a calico with really long fur, but her face is flat. Hopefully, she’ll be accompanied by a pair of kittens. She said she was looking for her son and daughter, Flurry and Sweet Pea. A group like that should definitely stick out.” Emberpaw nodded seriously, taking a deep, steadying breath before turning towards the Town.

               “Alright,” she said firmly, “wish me luck.” Poppypaw blinked.

               “Where are you going?” Emberpaw gave her a disbelieving look.

               “The Town? To find Dolly?”

               “You can’t go to the Town now,” Poppypaw scolded. “Emberpaw, I need your help, but I don’t want you to get kidnapped or killed. They just took Sparkpaw- that changes things. We need to be a lot more careful about this than I thought.” Emberpaw rolled her eyes.

               “Why’d you drag me out here in the middle of the night and tell me all this, then, if I’m not supposed to go find out?” Poppypaw scowled.

               “Because I can’t talk to you in your camp. It’s weird, but there are certain places in the territories I can’t go- even being on another Clan’s territory is difficult. It’s like my spirit knows I’m not supposed to be here. But you can’t come to Windclan territory, so we have to compromise. When you need to talk to me, try to find me here. If I need to talk to you, I’ll just try to find you wherever you are, deal?” Emberpaw was now under the distinct impression that Poppypaw was not the awe-inspiring messenger of the ancestor’s she previously believed her to be, but there wasn’t much to do about it now. She nodded, a little put out.

               “Alright, I guess I’ll just… go back to camp then. But I need to get into the Town, sooner rather than later.” Poppypaw nodded in return.

               “Try to find a way in that doesn’t put your life at risk. And in the meanwhile, I’ll try to find Dolly on the border, or another ghost willing to help. Deal?”

               “Deal.” Poppypaw gave her one last smile before once again disappearing, leaving Emberpaw alone in the silent forest. Don’t worry Spark, she thought determinedly, resolutely nodding towards the Town. I’ll find you, and I’ll help you get home.

               I promise.

First|Previous|Next

[overgrowth-wc]

PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER THREE

A NEW COAT

The time has come for our spies to begin their work. Can Littlesong, or, sorry, Dandelion handle the task he's been given?

Chapter Text

“Hey Mr. Dandelion, time to get up!” Littlesong was dying. Really, he was. These Shadowclan cats had him up before the sun rose every morning, training either mentally or physically from dawn to dusk, and often had him out in the middle of the night learning how to operate under the cover of darkness. He had caught sight of his reflection in one of the many puddles that littered the marsh after training one afternoon and had been horrified at how thin his face looked. I’m losing too much weight, he had bemoaned to Piketail. I’m going to look like an elder! His old mentor had merely laughed, the traitor, and told him it was good for his character. His mind had clearly been poisoned from spending too much time with the scrawny Shadowclanners. “Mr. Dandelion, it’s already dawn, and Crowcall and Auntie say they’ve been waiting for you forever. They told me I can jump on you if you don’t get up!” Littlesong still couldn’t bring himself to move, curling up further into his nest. She weighs as much as a feather, he desperately thought, who cares if she jumps on me-

               What he didn’t anticipate was the apprentice landing directly on his side and somehow managing to get all four little paws right between his ribs. Littlesong let out a startled and slightly pained yowl, sitting up so fast Emberpaw went tumbling.

               “Alright, alright already! I’m up!” The tortoiseshell was glaring at him something fierce from where she lay sprawled on some nests, a feather on her forehead detracting from an otherwise intimidating scowl. She’s scary for a tadpole. She pushed herself to her feet, tail lashing.

               “You need to be more careful!” She scolded, and he could only stare at her, incredulous. “You could have killed me!” Oh, I might now.

               “Are you serious?” He said, barely managing to reign in a growl. “You jumped on me!”

               “I told you I was going to! If you weren’t so lazy, I wouldn’t have done it!”

               “Lazy? It’s literally dawn-”

               “Right, and you were supposed to be up an hour ago-”

               “Were you raised in a-”

“Arguing with an apprentice, Littlesong?” And oh, he hadn’t missed that tone. He sheepishly looked up to see an unimpressed Piketail crouching in the den entrance, single amber eye somehow bright in the darkness. “Aren’t you a warrior now?” The warrior in question scrambled to his feet, shaking the moss from his coat and ignoring Emberpaw’s indignant hey! as some flew in her face. She deserved it, the disrespectful scrap.

               “Well, uh-”

               “He knocked me over!” Emberpaw accused, burning with a righteous indignation. “I told him I was allowed to jump on him, but nobody said he was allowed to push me!” Littlesong’s mouth dropped open.

               “I did not-”

“Well, Emberpaw, there can be unforeseen consequences to our actions,” Piketail interrupted gently. “Now you know that next time you jump on somebody, you have to be prepared for them to react. I’m sure Littlesong didn’t mean to push you on purpose,” a pointed look, which prompted the warrior to nod hastily, “and accidents happen. Can you forgive him?” Littlesong didn’t really think there was anything to be forgiven for, but Emberpaw seemed placated. She deigned to nod with an imperious sniff before scurrying out of the den. An amused Piketail lifted a leg to let her squeeze by, shaking his head fondly.

               “Emberpaw means well,” he began. Littlesong snorted.

               “She’s a terror.”

               “Those things are not mutually exclusive.” Piketail grinned. “Now come on, she was right about you being late. Crowcall and Briarmask are ready for you- got something new today.” Littlesong groaned. Not encouraging. He forced himself to his feet, slogging out after Piketail. His lip curled in disgust as his foot immediately sunk into the soggy soil of the clearing.

Littlesong was sick of the mud.

               The poor tom was more brown than yellow these days, constantly trying to shake the muck from his dense coat and from between his webbed toes. You would think the almost waterproof pelt of a Riverclanner would offer some protection against the damp and mire of Shadowclan territory, but alas, the clumps and drips of mud just clung like soggy burrs and allowed the wet to seep down to his skin. His paws squelched as they crossed the clearing to where his ‘mentors’ were sitting together, leaned in close together and whispering. They did that a lot, which Littlesong sometimes found rude, but apparently they had been recently bonded, so he could forgive them for it. New bonds are worse than courting cats, everyone knows that. They straightened up as Piketail and Littlesong approached, giving both toms friendly nods.

               “We have a present for you, Littlesong!” Briarmask said cheerily, but the yellow tom was instantly on guard. She looked too excited. “And it took us forever to find it for you, so don’t go messing it up.” She looked to Crowcall, who dramatically swept his tail to the side, revealing the object he had been hiding. “Ta da!”

               It was a collar.

               A green collar, with a little golden bell, sitting carefully on a pile of moss and leaves which kept it free of mud. Littlesong could feel it choking him just looking at it.

               “A collar?”

               “Quite the smarty, you are,” Crowcall said pleasantly, ignoring Piketail’s deadpan look. “We found a kittypet a ways away, about your size, and convinced him to give us his collar.” At Littlesong’s alarmed expression, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, we didn’t hurt him. We brought him a rabbit to eat, and that was enough for him. Here, try it on.” Littlesong wouldn’t lie, he wasn’t excited about doing this, but he honestly didn’t know how to get that thing over his head.

               “Er, how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

               “Here,” Piketail said, stepping forward. “Let me help.” He picked the collar up with his teeth, holding it out so Littlesong could shove his head through. It took a minute, but they got it over his head without too much trouble, and now it was sitting uncomfortably around his neck. He reached up a paw to bat at the bell, but stopped when Briarmask cleared her throat.

               “You can’t get it dirty, that’ll stand out too much.” She explained. “We needed to make sure it fit. Good thing it does- this was the last thing we needed before you two go in. I think you’re ready.” Dread swirled in the yellow tom’s stomach. To be completely honest, he wasn’t even sure why he was here. Sure, Oakstar had given his reasoning- you’re a fabulous actor, my boy, and under Piketail’s tutelage you have developed quite the reconnaissance ability- but really, there were plenty of others who fit that bill as well. Part of him suspected it was more that he looked the part of a kittypet, with his puffy yellow fur and decent amount of chub, more than anything else. Which really wasn’t a proper qualification, if he were being honest. And who was this ‘contact’ he was staying with, anyway? Nobody had told him anything about it, yet, saying it was a secret for a reason.

               “Do I need to keep it on, then?” He asked, and he couldn’t keep the reluctance out of his tone. The Shadowclanners, Piketail included, looked amused.

               “We’re going to give you a break and take it off you for the trip over. We don’t want you getting it dirty, after all.” He would take their snickering if it meant he didn’t have to wear the blasted collar for longer than absolutely necessary. He held still as Piketail pulled it back off him, replacing it carefully into its bed of moss. Crowcall then wrapped it tightly into a moss ball, which he placed one protective paw on.

               “Alright, Turtledove should be back soon- she was out night hunting with Shade. When she’s here you’ll both get something to eat and we’ll go over the final plan, then it’s off to the Town.” Littlesong nodded gloomily, and Piketail gave him a supportive nudge.

               “Come on,” he said, “let’s go hang out before you have to leave.” The dark gray tom led him up the log pile to a quiet, and thankfully dry, spot that overlooked the camp. Littlesong had to admit the swamp had its own sort of beauty- the dawn light was starting to catch on the fog the drifted in the corners of camp, illuminating the pine needles into a brilliant emerald color. Sort of like the color of the collar. His mood instantly soured. “I can see you’re not exactly thrilled about this.” Littlesong couldn’t help a sigh.

               “To be honest, I’m really not. I’m not cut out for this sort of thing.” He said, feeling relieved he could talk to Piketail about his reluctance. “I mean, why me? Everyone else makes sense, but I feel… superfluous, almost.” Piketail hummed.

               “Everyone was chosen to participate for a reason,” he said, and at Littlesong’s disbelieving look he smiled. “Listen, if anyone is the superfluous one, it’s poor Gorsestorm. Shalestar is just chomping at the bit to be involved, and she knew she couldn’t send one of her warriors into the Town. They would be completely lost. It’s a miracle Gorsestorm lasted as long as he did in there.” True. Of anyone, Windclan had the least amount of contact with the Town and twolegs, or, humans, rather. They were almost universally afraid of them- plus, they were so different from the Town cats both in looks and culture that they stuck out like cardinals in the snow. “It would make a lot more sense to have a Shadowclanner or even a Thunderclanner be the main point of contact, but the other leaders didn’t want Shalestar left without something to do. She’d drive everyone crazy.” And Littlesong couldn’t help but laugh at that, although he didn’t feel much better. He let out another sigh.

               “I just… don’t really want to be doing this. I don’t feel like I’m a good choice. But Oakstar asked me to, so…” Piketail was no longer smiling, concern furrowing his brow.

               “I know you would much rather be home,” he said lowly, “but Poppypaw is still stuck, and Featherfall is likely to try and hurt the Clans again. This time could be worse. Remember that when you don’t feel motivated, and let that drive you.” Littlesong thought of Splashpaw then, and felt some resolve. He didn’t want his friend to be targeted again, or anyone else for that matter. He let out one large, final sigh, but it was more dramatic than genuine.

               “Fine,” he drawled, “I guess I can get it together long enough to hunt down a mass murdering cult leader. Sounds like a stroll by the kit stream.” Piketail still looked a little worried, but his eye softened.

               “Exactly,” he played along with a purr. “You’ll go in, hone your acting skills, find Featherfall, and be home in time for the summer fishing tourney. You were going to enter, right?” Littlesong took the distraction, happy to discuss the annual competition Riverclan held every year. He had been a kit last year and thus unable to participate, but now he was planning on showing Goldenthorn who the better hunter was. Probably her, but he still had to try.

               Turtledove entered the camp not long after the sun peeked over the horizon, her white fur stained brown and looking dead on her feet. They had been keeping her up all night and letting her sleep during the day to transition to a more Town oriented schedule, although it seemed she hadn’t completely adjusted yet. Still, she seemed to be quite the trooper, as she trotted over to the fresh kill pile with a few mice dangling from her jaws, dropping them off before reporting over to where Crowcall and Briarmask were still sitting. Piketail, noticing her arrival, rose to his feet with a stretch.

               “Alright, go time.”

               The idea was simple, at least in theory. Shadefur was taking Turtledove to the edge of the Houses to drop her off. There, the calico would spend some time in the gardens to lose the Clan scent she had. She’d then be responsible for finding her way to Rocky’s territory based on the instructions she had been given. Littlesong didn’t envy her- he would have a bit of an easier time with his escort. The difference was, they had to ensure that as few cats as possible saw him going to the contact’s house, as he was supposed to have been brought there by a human. A small patrol of Shadowclanner’s would essentially be smuggling him across the Town, and the way they planned on it was… slightly terrifying.

               They’d be travelling across the houses themselves.

               Crowcall had explained that very few cats looked up at the roofs, more focused on their immediate surroundings, and that Shadowclan had discovered the most covert way of travelling the Town was on the roofs during the day. It was difficult, however, and could be dangerous if someone fell, so it really was only for the direst of circumstances, like now. They had put Littlesong through his paces, first by marking spots on the ground to jump between, then taking him to the few oak trees in their territory to practice with height, and finally, now, he would be attempting the real deal. He wouldn’t lie- the idea was terrifying. Riverclan cats didn’t climb trees, okay? It wasn’t their thing. And houses were infinitely worse than trees, but again, Littlesong didn’t have much say in these things, so onward they would go.

               Crowcall, Briarmask, Batflight, and Piketail would be escorting him to his new place. They led him to a small pool on the edge of the territory where he could wash his pelt, which he reveled in, yellow fur bright and clean once more. After a careful trek through the driest part of the territory, they were sat by one of the fences, their location carefully scouted- there were no kittypets living in any of the houses nearby, which meant they shouldn’t be spotted. The initial part of the journey would be the most difficult, as there were fewer houses and trees with more space between them, making the path indirect and dangerous. Once they made it into the denser part of Town it would be easier to make the jumps, but they would have to be more careful, on the off chance they ran into a loner or such. Briarmask and Crowcall would be scouting ahead, Piketail staying with Littlesong and Batflight covering the rear, which would hopefully prevent any such accidents. Hopefully, of course, being the key word- Littlesong was prepared for the plan to fall apart before it even began.

               “Alright,” Briarmask said quietly, expression determined, “we’re off.” She and Crowcall scaled the fence quickly and quietly, making their way to the side of the house, which was thick with ivy. They used it to climb the rest of the way to the roof, which they made it to easily, before slinking up the incline and disappearing over the other side. Provided one of them didn’t come running back in the next few minutes, it would be time for Littlesong and Piketail to go. He was feeling distinctly queasy, which Batflight seemed to notice.

               “Chin up, friend,” she chirped. “You’ll be a hero after this, you know. Be plenty popular with the young mollies, I’m sure- won’t have to worry about borders to find a girl, not that you water voles care about such things.” That might have cheered him up if Littlesong had any plans to get bonded, but as it stood, mollies were more trouble than they were worth. And even more so kittens, the thought of which sent shivers down his spine. No, thank you, he was quite content to only worry about himself. Piketail, who had always disagreed with such a notion- not that he seemed to ever pursue anyone, the hypocrite- took the opportunity to tease his former apprentice.

               “Oh, Littlesong is above such things,” he said, tongue very much in cheek. “No molly is good enough for him, it seems.” Batflight laughed, a bright, jovial sound, and Piketail grinned in return.

               “Well, thank the stars you don’t share the same attitude.” She said with a wink, and as Piketail twisted an ear back, Littlesong’s thoughts ground to a halt. Gaze flicking between the smug Batflight and the embarrassed Piketail, he furrowed his brow. Wait a second- is she flirting with him? He fixed his old mentor with an accusatory look.

               “You-”

               “We should get going,” Piketail said quickly, dipping his head to the still smiling Batflight. “Up you get, quickly now.” Littlesong acquiesced, the suspicion still swirling in his gut serving as a distraction, and before he knew it, they were slowly making their way over the roof. When he opened his mouth to ask about it, Piketail cut him off. “We need to keep quiet,” he said under his breath. “Focus on not dying when you make this jump.” Littlesong shut his mouth with a click, eyes still narrowed, but turned his reluctant attention to the jump in question. There was an oak tree, not nearly as big as the ones in the forest, located in the front yard between the house and the street it overhung. He would need to jump to it, carefully make his way to the other side of it, then jump to the oak overhanging the other side of the street, then to the house it was in front of, and then repeat that process twice more. He was exhausted just thinking about it. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, going over the strategy in his head. Pick a branch that looks sturdy, but that also has a sturdy one below it in case you fall. Give yourself a bit of a running start, then jump at the last second. When you land, hang on, and don’t start walking until you’re sure you’re stable. Target sighted, he once again took a deep breath, held it, and pushed off. He ran down the slope of the roof, hind feet planted on the edge of it as he leapt with all his might, thankfully making it to his chosen landing spot. He clung to the branch as it swayed, trying to calm his frantically beating heart. I did it! And, as Piketail had always said, if he could do it once, he could do it again. Steeling himself, Littlesong carefully started to make his way around, relieved to hear the rustling sound of Piketail landing behind him. His confidence renewed, he prepared to make the jump to the other tree.

               This was only the first step, after all.

______________________________________________________________

               It took most of the morning to make it to the contact’s house, a squat yellow thing with a white fence and flowerboxes in the windows. It was located right across from the park, something Littlesong was happy about- it was like a little scrap of home in this stone wasteland. They had gone around the park, as too many cats lived in it to even chance the trees, and soon enough they were dropping from the roof of the yellow house and into the backyard. There, an old queen who looked strangely familiar was waiting.

               “Good morning, darlings,” she called, purring as they padded up to her. “So lovely to see you, dears. And you must be Dandelion, is that right?” Littlesong nodded respectfully, offering the queen a sweet grin.

               “That’s me! Wonderful to meet you, miss.” She seemed flattered at the ‘miss,’ something that Briarmask rolled her eyes at. Crowcall’s mutter of gotta remember that one was met with a shove from the pointed molly, and now that Littlesong was looking at her...

               “My name is Cookie. I am Rosestar’s mother.” She introduced herself, and of course, because where else had he seen that curly pelt before but Rosestar and Briarmask? Makes sense why they didn’t tell me who it was before I got here- I’m sure they don’t want me sharing this information.

               “An honor to meet you as well, then.” He returned, offering her a sheepish grin. “I appreciate you letting me stay here.”

               “Grandmother will help you sneak in and out of the house to avoid her humans,” Briarmask butted in. “It’s imperative that you smell like a kittypet, but it’s not like we can actually let the humans see you. You need to stay in the house without being seen for at least a day or so- try to get any last bit of swamp scent off of you.”

               “Yes, dear, I can help you with that.” Cookie said. “I have some good hiding spots for you, and some blankets and such for you to roll in. Then when the time has passed, I can help you come in and out of the house as you need.” Okay, so this was the part he was dreading the most. He wasn’t afraid of humans, necessarily, but everyone in Riverclan had heard the horror stories- apprentices snatched from Sunning Rocks, warriors going to the Horse Place and never coming home… there was no small chance that if Cookie’s humans did find him in their home, they really would take him away. And then his cover story would be true, which was the absolute last thing he wanted to happen. Still, while Littlesong wasn’t the bravest cat around, he was a very good actor, and honestly, isn’t that the same thing? So he offered an easy grin and tried to keep his fur lying flat.

               “I’m ready when you are, then. Are your humans home now?” Please don’t be, please don’t be-

“No, they are not. They typically leave in the morning and do not return until the evening, so you will be quite safe to move about during the day.” Praise the ancestors. Littlesong looked to Piketail then, who nodded.

               “We should leave before we’re noticed,” he said quietly, looking to Briarmask and Crowcall for confirmation. They nodded as well.

               “You should be safe to leave the normal way, if you wish.” Cookie said, looking a little disappointed at their swift departure. “My neighbors should still be asleep, and that nice tom across the street must have moved away. And besides, it isn’t odd to see you and Crowcall here, dear.” Briarmask hummed in consideration.

               “I think Crow and I should leave like normal, yeah- that way if anybody did see us on the way in, we can just say we were visiting. Pike and Batty should probably go back over the rooftops, though.” She cast a sly glance at Batflight, who looked pleased, and Littlesong once again narrowed his eyes at the nervous Piketail. She was flirting with him. He tried to communicate his disappointment with a wounded look, but his old mentor was staring straight ahead. “And one last thing, of course.” The pointed molly mewed, drawing Littlesong’s attention. Crowcall rolled that dreaded moss ball over, and in short order the collar was once again firmly fixed around Littlesong’s neck. He batted at the bell miserably. Piketail, still looking embarrassed, cleared his throat.

               “Alright,” he coughed, then turned to nudge Littlesong. “You be safe, alright? And if anything bad happens, you know where to find me.” Piketail had promised to be one of the Shadowclanners lingering in the Town, listing off places that he would be if Littlesong needed help. The yellow tom couldn’t help but feel comforted at the knowledge- Piketail had always known what to do when things went poorly, so having him as a backup made Littlesong much more confident. He nodded seriously, trying to show Piketail there was nothing to worry about, and was unsurprised to see his old mentor’s brow was still furrowed. The Shadowclanners all bid their goodbyes then, and when they left Littlesong turned to Cookie with a bright smile and resigned heart.

               “Come along dear, I’ll give you the tour,” the queen purred, leading him up to the door. There was a different colored square at the bottom of it, which turned out to be a sort of flap, that when pushed lead into the house. Bracing himself, Littlesong pushed through gingerly, only to be immediately assaulted by a riot of scents and sights and textures he had never experience before. The ground was weirdly smooth beneath his feet, looking to be made out of strangely neat wood, like the fence beams at the Horse Place. The scent of human and human food was everywhere, strongly emanating from an area off the side with high ledges, humming, shiny objects, and a slick looking multicolored floor. Ahead were large, soft looking… things, and a weird indent that smelled like ash and charred wood, and…

               Littlesong couldn’t help it- his fur prickled along his spine, and he froze right there in the entrance, rear end still firmly planted on the porch. Cookie, in front of him, turned to him in concern.

               “I’m sure it must be overwhelming, darling,” she said gently. “We have many hours yet- take as much time as you need.” Littlesong took the out, returning to the porch with a rapidly beating heart, Cookie content to lay beside him as he tried to calm down. How am I going to do this if I can’t even go inside a house? He thought shamefully. Thank the ancestors Piketail isn’t here to see this. He would rather die than have Piketail think ill of him. “This is your first time around the Town, isn’t it?” Cookie’s voice interrupted his downward spiral. Snapped back into focus, Littlesong nodded slowly.

               “I… I’ve seen humans before. Riverclan, where I’m from, it’s backed up to the Horse Place. Occasionally the humans that live there walk through our territory, or bring their horses there.” Thankfully that didn’t happen too often. He had personally only seen them once, when he was a very young apprentice, and Piketail had warned him to never go near any humans he saw. That night Goldenpaw had terrified him and Ripplepaw, just out of the nursery, with stories of Riverclanners being taken by humans, never to be seen again. “But I’ve never even been close to the house there, let alone inside of it. It’s… very strange.” Cookie hummed.

               “I wouldn’t know, dear.” She smiled. “I’ve lived here my whole life, you know. All fourteen winters.” Littlesong did his best not to google- fourteen winters? That was almost unheard of, for a cat to live that long- well, a Clan cat, anyway. “You see, humans are strange things. Some have a preference for what they call ‘pure blood’ cats, and raise such kinds of cats and give their kittens away to others. That’s what my humans used to do, before my mate died. We both had the same curly fur, you see, and so did any kittens we had together. Pure blood cats usually have something strange about them, like flat faces, or curled ears, or rare colors. The tom across the street was like that too, although I do not know what kind of blood he had.” That was all sorts of crazy. Humans are even more bizarre than I thought.

“Wait,” he said, coming to a horrified realization. “They gave your kittens away?” Now listen, Littlesong may not be too keen on kittens of his own, but he was a Clan cat. Kittens were everything- the very future of the Clans. Without them, what would happen to the Code? Their traditions? The territories? So for the humans to just… give away a poor cat’s kittens, never to be seen again? That was the most callous thing he had ever heard of. Cookie looked a little mournful.

               “They did. Or most of them, anyway.” She sighed. “I’ve had about ten litters in my life. A few of my babies I can still see- they must have gone to friends of my humans, as sometimes they visit and bring my babies with them. But most I have not seen since they were very young. It is the way of things for cats like us. That’s what my mother taught me, and I knew that that would be my lot in life.” Littlesong didn’t want to press too much, but he was having a hard time wrapping his head around it all.

               “So… if you don’t mind me asking, and please, you don’t have to say, but how did Rosestar end up in Shadowclan?” Cookie didn’t seem upset, thankfully, a fond smile stealing over her face, and she began to purr.

               “Ah, Rosey, and my poor little Thorn,” she said. “I had this idea when they were young. Two of their siblings had been taken away, but they still remained. It was longer than they were usually allowed to stay, you see, and I was desperate to keep them in my life somehow. I had heard of the Clans, but then one afternoon, I actually met a Shadowclan warrior.” Cookie gave him a mischievous wink. “Now, I know I don’t look like much now, but I was quite the sneak, back in my day. I followed that molly all the way back to the Shadowclan camp. Walked right in and asked to speak to their leader. My, it was like I kicked over an ant pile, the way cats were running around. The leader then was Ivystar, about my age. I could smell the milk on her, knew she must have kittens of her own, so I explained to her my predicament, and asked if I could bring my remaining children to her Clan. I thought I would see them more often, then, especially if they had their own agency, instead of living with humans far away.”

               “I’m guessing Ivystar accepted.” Littlesong smiled, and he tactful enough to know he probably shouldn’t press about Thorn. He could put the pieces together there after his time in Shadowclan.

               “Oh, she did. I don’t know how those other warriors felt, but the next day she came herself to my home with her deputy and took Rosey and Thorn back to Shadowclan. My humans were so upset- they looked for days and days for them, and honestly…” Cookie’s smile was more sly, now. “It felt a little good to see them have to go through what I went through, every time they took my kittens away. As terrible as that seems, dear.” Littlesong couldn’t help but laugh, though. He really liked Cookie- the old queen was kind, and funny, and really, he was grateful that she was the one he was staying with. “Now, little lion,” she said, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge at the nickname- that was dad’s name, Lion- “Would you like to try again?” And the tom thought of his father, and Piketail, and wanted to make them proud. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

______________________________________________________________

               It took a bit, but he got to the point where he could fully enter the house. Cookie led him up the stairs to a spare room with a closet full of blankets. He mumbled the unfamiliar words to himself as he went, trying to expand his kittypet vocabulary. Cookie told him he could hide in the closet, up on what she called a shelf when her humans were home. Apparently they only went into the closet to get the blankets during cold weather, and with the turn of the seaon they should have no need to while he was there. She showed him a few more hiding places as backups- under a bed, behind an armchair, even up high on more shelves and such. Cookie then had him take a nap in her bed at the windowsill, saying it would be good both for his scent and for other cats to see him in the house. She would tell her neighbors about the ‘nice young tom’ her humans had brought home the night before, and hopefully the news would start to spread. Then, in a few days, he could make his first public appearance.

               The time couldn’t go by fast enough.

               He was stuck eating kittypet food, which… wasn’t as bad as he had been told. The stuff Cookie ate wasn’t hard little pellets, thank goodness. It was some sort of meat, tasting vaguely of fish, which soothed Littlesong’s homesickness more than he thought it would. Cookie’s humans put the food down before they left every morning, and she used her own acting skills to get them to give her more than she usually ate, just so Littlesong wouldn’t go hungry. The rest of the days were spent listening to Cookie’s stories, rubbing himself on the strange human clothes, and playing with the toys Cookie showed him. At night, when he had to hide up on the closet shelf, he thought of his family and his friends, the homesickness threatening to devour him. He wanted his own nest, the ever present murmur of the river, to see his mom and his friends and yes, even Goldenthorn…

               Finally, the day of promise dawned. Cookie declared she could no longer smell a hint of the Clans on him, and so she could start introducing him to her neighbors. The old queen did not leave her own garden, however, so he would be on his own past there. A day or so of spending time with the other kittypets- there was Fluffy right next door, an old puffy white queen with strange folded ears, Bolt, an orange tom about his mother’s age who occasionally called on Cookie, along with Ducky and Lucky, two kittens who lived on the other side of the house, much too young to be without their mother, in his opinion- and finally, finally, Littlesong was ready for his first night adventure. Now, he might not have been excited about this at first, but spending almost a week in a human house changed a cat, and now Littlesong was chomping at the bit to get out. He waited until Cookie’s humans went to sleep, and then she carefully led him down the stairs, across the quiet house, and out into the garden. The moon was just a sliver in the sky, but there were plenty of lights around to see by. Cookie bid him to be safe, eyes bright with worry, and he gave her a fond nudge before heading out. Up the fence, through the yard, onto the sidewalk, and then…

               He was free. The whole world seemed full of possibilities, and he was more than happy to amble along. Briarmask had told him he couldn’t be too sneaky- he needed to look like a sheltered kittypet, after all. So he pretended he was just going on a walk to the river, stopping to sniff at interesting objects, observe a moth fluttering by, the whole deal. Occasionally he saw another cat, but they stayed close to the shadows, watching him with wary eyes, glinting in the yellow streetlights. It wasn’t until he approached an alley, drawn by a curious scent, that someone confronted him. Two toms slipped from the shadows, faces set in harsh lines. The older one, a grizzled gray, spoke.

               “Who the hell are you, and why are you on my turf?” His tone was mild, but Littlesong could recognize the danger underneath. He let his fur bush out, taking a gulp, but stood his ground- he needed to show that he was a kittypet with promise, not a complete coward.

               “My name is Dandelion,” he said slowly, eyeing the toms carefully. The younger one, fur a smooth brown, seemed like trouble. “I finally got out of my human’s house and I wanted to take a look around. I’m not familiar with this area.” The older tom’s ear twitched.

               “’Finally got out?’” He asked, taking another step forward. Good, he took the bait. “You a street cat before?” Apparently it was common enough that all Littlesong had to do was intimate that he was reluctant to be a kittypet and everyone would assume he had been a stray. And, if they were as desperate for recruits as Gorsestorm said, that could be his in. Provided these cats were actually with Featherfall and not just looking to beat him up, of course. Littlesong paused before giving a hesitant nod.

               “I was born on the street,” he explained, relaxing his shoulders a bit and taking on a friendlier tone. “When I left my mother I was almost immediately picked up by a human.” He gave a barely feigned shudder. “She lived in one of those tall houses with many nests. I couldn’t find my way back out. But then these new humans came and brought me here a few days ago.” Littlesong smiled. “Tonight’s the first night they didn’t bring me to their bed to sleep, so I wanted to come out here, get a feel for the place.” By now the other two toms had relaxed as well, sitting comfortably as they listened. The gray tom nodded thoughtfully, ear flicking. He let out a sigh, a high, reedy thing.

               “Well, if you’re looking to leave, you’re gonna wanna join up with a colony,” he mused aloud, “and to do that you’ll have to prove yourself.” Littlesong nodded, now letting his confidence show.

               “Yeah, I would like to get out of there sooner than later. And ditch this,” he scowled, batting at his collar. “How would someone go about proving themselves?”

               “Well,” the old tom drawled, “it depends on who you wanna fall in with. For example, my colony requires a cat to have some fighting skill. It’s a rough life out here, after all.” Littlesong let his smile grow, secretly delighting in the challenge- any Clan cat can sweep a loner. Even me.

“Even better,” Littesong said. “The human I lived with before had another cat, this mean old tom. Huge. Beat me up whenever she was away until I learned to fend for myself. Reckon I could beat just about anyone now.” He boasted, glad to see the young tom looked annoyed and the older one looked amused. Arrogance is a trait shared by warriors and kittypets alike.

               “Well now,” the gray tom purred, “we’ll just have to see, hm? How’s this- I’m a bit busy right now, moving our base to a different place and all. But, if you’re serious about leaving your human, we could use another set of paws around. In, let’s say, two days, go to the park at night. We’ll have a challenge for you then.” Littlesong nodded amicably, letting his excitement show. There was no way to tell if these were Featherfall cats, of course, but getting in with a group right away would help him connect with others who might have the information he needed.

               “I’ll definitely be there. Think I’d go crazy if I stay in that house much longer. And can I ask what your names are?” Crowcall had warned him that a lot of street cats could be cagey about their names, but that as a kittypet, a certain amount of precociousness was to be expected. Just don’t be surprised if you get clawed for it. Thankfully, the old tom seemed mostly amused by him, even if his younger companion was less of a fan.

               “Whistler,” he mewed, then jerked his head to his companion. “This is Bear. See you in two days.” With that, they melted back in the shadows. Littlesong hummed, turning to amble his way back to Cookie’s house, reveling in his success.

               Whistler… where have I heard that name before?

[overgrowth-wc]

PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER TWO

GROWING PAINS

Gorsestorm is repeatedly being put in situations that encourage him to be more mature, respectful, and downright pleasant. It's probably killing him.

               “And now this is lavender, we definitely need some of that!” Alright, who’s the mentor here? Gorsestorm mused, ambling along obediently after Teaseltuft as she chattered on about the herbs she was collecting. Well, I mean, I was her mentor, and besides, who doesn’t know what lavender is? But that was a bratty thing to think, and the tom was honestly working on fixing that, so he didn’t speak it out loud and instead focused on the pride he felt for his former apprentice. It had been rough for her after Kestrelcall’s murder- she had had to make the trips to Thunderclan and Shadowclan for instruction, with Snowdrift making the odd visit to Windclan, as well as seeking out guidance from the ancestors whenever possible. Thankfully, with Kestrelcall’s spirit being free, the young molly had received some ghostly instruction over the past couple of moons, finally earning her name a couple weeks ago. And Gorsestorm honestly was proud of her, proud of her resilience and intelligence and her ability to remain softhearted despite everything that happened. “Hey, how’s it going with Robinsong, by the way? Do I need to practice for another bonding ceremony?”

               Even if Teaseltuft was a meddlesome busybody.

               “You guys need to let up about that,” he groaned, now slumping along instead of ambling. “Who’s to say she even likes me like that? Or, uh, if I even like her like that? Do you want me to be miserable, Teasel? Besides, she’s going through a lot right now.” As if they didn’t have more important things to worry about. After Daisypetal and Oatfur were bonded, and now that she and Bluetail were both in the nursery, Shalestar was seriously on his tail about Robinsong. You have a responsibility to this Clan, and part of that means having heirs. You can’t do that if you let every available molly get snatched up. And stars forbid he find some loner to take as a mate, which really, truly, left Robinsong as his only option. Which… he was fine with, because they were friends and she was super smart and kind and all that wonderful stuff, but he didn’t know how she felt about it. If she had even realized it. Because it was kind of terrible, wasn’t it? How was he even supposed to approach her about courting? Hey, sorry you’re mourning your only brother, but I need to have kits, and you’re my only option. Want to go hunting? And even worse, he’d have to get her family’s permission before he asked her to court, like, officially, and since Thrushspots was dead, the only cat left was Buzzardclaw, that crochety old bastard… “And besides, shouldn’t we be focused on the plan to find Featherfall?” His bid to change the subject fell flat as Teaseltuft flicked a dismissive tail.

               “I am completely confident in our success. Poppypaw will be home before the summer, I just know it.” He almost flinched at her name. “Besides, there can be multiple issues at once, you know. Shalestar is right, even if she’s a little bossy about it. I know Heathernose’s children can also be heirs, but you shouldn’t count on that without trying everything you can first.”

               “I’m not- I wasn’t thinking of it like that.” He protested, then sighed. He could stand to be a little honest, he supposed. “I just don’t want to be unfair to Robinsong. With the whole thing with Thrushspots, you know, and she didn’t ask for this- what if she doesn’t want to? What if she just says yes because she feels pressured? That’s- I don’t want- ugh.” Teaseltuft softened, purring as she leaned up against him, the two coming to a stop.

               “You won’t know until you ask her, right? And if she doesn’t want to, well, we’ll just have to find some poor loner molly to shack up with you.” Gorsestorm was about to give in and offer a snarky rebuttal when a cry pierced the air.

               “Help! Someone, please!” Immediately the tom sprang into action, putting himself between Teaseltuft and the yelling, shoving her in the direction of camp.

               “Go,” he demanded, and confound it all, she was trying to dodge past him to the source of the noise.

               “Gorsestorm, someone is in trouble!”

               “They’re going to stay in trouble, because that’s not anyone we know, and it could be a trap-”

               “What if it’s not? We can’t abandon someone in need! What if they’re in trouble like I was?” Gorsestorm was basically wrestling her like a wild rabbit at this point, trying to get a good grip on the ridiculously fluffy healer without hurting her. Meanwhile, the rustling in the heather and the calls for help were getting louder, signaling that whoever was yelling was getting closer by the second. Where are Heather and Kite? They should be nearby-

               “Teasel, I am not risking your life for a stranger, damn it all-” Too late. A white blur came tumbling out of the scrub near them, immediately followed by two dark ones. Gorsestorm planted himself in front of Teaseltuft, puffing up his short fur and hissing like a snake. The white blur was a molly, now trembling at his feet, and the others were two lean tabby toms, bristling ferociously. The molly was roughed up, scratches littering her pelt, and she looked up at Gorsestorm like he was her only hope.

               “Please,” she rasped, starting to crawl towards him, “I need-”

               “Not a step closer,” he growled, and she flinched, stopping immediately. Teaseltuft let out her own displeased noise, but he simply used a back foot to shove her more firmly behind him. “Who are you? What is the meaning of this?”

               “Sorry to trouble you,” one of the toms mewed, claws still out but fur now lying flat. “This is a… personal issue. We’ll just be taking our friend back and be out of your fur.” Now, Gorsestorm wasn’t heartless. He was very concerned for the molly, who was now cowering in fear as the tom started padding towards her. But he had his priorities, and right now, Teaseltuft’s safety was the most important thing. Still…

               “It became my issue once you trespassed on my territory,” he hissed, taking a bold step forward. “You need to leave. Now. And your… friend isn’t going with you.” And ugh, he knew Teasel was probably smiling right now, but the two tabby toms before him were definitely not smiling, in fact, they looked ready to take his tail off-

               And praise the ancestors, two of the other troublesome mollies in his life decided to finally show up. Heathernose and Kiteclaw leapt from the scrub, each taking out a now surprised tom. Gorsestorm would’ve stepped forward, but, well, they were more than capable of taking care of it. Kite is a -claw for a reason, after all. In a minute the toms were sent running, Kiteclaw all too happy to lope off after them, leaving the golden-brown siblings to stare down at the molly between them.

               “You know, it’s weird this has happened twice,” Gorsestorm hummed. “I at least don’t feel nauseous this time-” Teaseltuft whacked him on the rump, claws unsheathed, the little terror, while Heathernose gave an exasperated sigh.

               “Insufferable. Literally. Good luck getting Robinsong to even look at you-”

               “Alright, enough of that stuff, honestly.” He refocused on the white molly, who now looked a little less scared but a lot more confused. “Come on, we’ll escort you to a different part of the border. You shouldn’t have to worry about those toms anymore.” He thought that was perfectly reasonable, and it seemed his sister did too, as she went to help the molly stand, but Teaseltuft was looking at him like he had just stolen food from a starving kit. “What?”

               “You are insufferable. Honestly, Gorsestorm, she can barely stand! We at least need to take her back to camp and patch her up!” She’s going to be the death of me.

“Teasel,” he said pleasantly, forcing himself not to snap, “the first rule of personal safety is to not take strangers to where you live. No offense,” he shot a look at the molly, “but I’m not taking any chances. We are taking her to the border, and that’s final.”

               “You brought me back to camp.” Teaseltuft glared, and she had puffed herself up now, and had that stubborn glint in her eye, stars help him. She’s becoming too bold, the little fluffball.

               “I thought you were a kit.” She sputtered, now also looking offended.

               “I told you I was eight moons old-”

               “I honestly figured you were lying, you looked like you had just fallen from your nest-”

               “If I may,” the molly cut in, looking a little put out. “I don’t- I don’t know if I could make it to a different border. And if those toms are still lurking around…” And ugh, Teaseltuft looked both annoyed and expectant, and Heathernose was looking concerned, and now Kiteclaw was back, and she was looking to him for a decision…

               “Fine,” he said, ignoring Teaseltuft’s pleased little wiggle, “fine. We will go back to camp, but you get to explain this to Shalestar. It’s not my problem if you get in trouble.” There was only so much maturity that could be expected from him in a single day, and he really was at his limit. With a huff he turned and stalked off, leading the way back to camp. He could hear Teaseltuft introducing herself behind him, and the white molly’s reply.

               “Lily. My name is Lily.”

______________________________________________________________

               “You want her to stay?” In a moment of utter vindication, Shalestar also seemed to not be so keen on their unexpected guest. Teaseltuft, bless her bleeding heart, was trying to argue that the molly needed a few days to recover. She could barely look Shalestar in the eye when she first got here, and now look at her. Maybe I am a bad influence.

               “Not forever,” the fluffy molly said quickly, “just until she’s better. And to make sure those toms don’t just find her and hurt her all over again.” Apparently, Lily had been approached by one of those toms to be his mate. He was not too happy when she refused. She had then tried to leave the area, allegedly being from some houses past the Barn and the Mothermouth, not that any of them had ever been that far, only to be followed after by said tom and his brother. Guy really doesn’t take no for an answer. They had caught up to her near Windclan territory, and while she had smelled the border markings, she had hoped to find some cats from the Clans she had heard about to help. Which, you know, fine, but she was still an outsider, and with all the issues they had going on, Gorsestorm didn’t feel like it was smart to bring in some stranger with an unverifiable backstory. “And besides, you asked me to stay after about five minutes, Shalestar. Would it be so bad to extend that same welcome to another cat in need?” Now Shalestar seemed a little swayed, so Gorsestorm needed to nip that in the bud, right now.

               “Teasel, you know Shalestar received a dream from the ancestors about you coming to the Clan. As far as I’m aware, there have been no signs about this molly.” And yes, now Shalestar was nodding. Teaseltuft huffed.

               “Exactly, there have been no signs, good or bad, which means we’re at a net neutral here.” The medicine cat sighed. “I at least want to make sure she’s healthy before she goes. And while she’s here, would it be so bad to see if she fits in? If she might want to stay?” Gorsestorm knew there was nothing they could say to sway the medicine cat, and Shalestar seemed to think so too, as she sighed and gave a nod.

               “Fine. She can stay for a few days until you are satisfied with her condition.” She then looked at Gorsestorm, and no, oh no, he was not playing kit sitter- “Gorsestorm, please tell Robinsong I would like her to stay with our… guest. I feel a molly of a similar age would be best, and Robinsong our best option of those. That way she can keep an eye on our guest without offending her, and we’ll all feel better about it.” Compromise reached, but now Shalestar was giving him that stupid mischievous grin she had every time he even glanced Robinsong’s way. “She was on morning patrols, so she should be back in camp by now. You’re dismissed.” Gorsestorm reluctantly padded out of Shalestar’s den, wincing in the bright light that beat down into the camp. Casting his gaze about, he saw Robinsong laying out in front of the elder’s den with her grandfather, laughing as the tom grumbled. Even better.

“Hey Robin,” he greeted, then stumbled at Buzzardclaw’s glare. “Song. I mean, hey Robinsong. Good afternoon, Buzzardclaw.” He gave the tom a respectful nod, which seemed to lessen the intensity of his dirty look. The elder was a stickler for tradition and the like, which was fine of course, but that also meant anything less than perfect formality was not tolerated. Like calling his only and beloved granddaughter by just her given name instead of her full name, which was much too familiar for the likes of him.

               “Gorsestorm. Stirring up trouble?” Buzzardclaw was also of the opinion that Gorsestorm should have been permanently kicked out for daring to challenge Shalestar, something he made abundantly clear, and something which definitely motivated Gorsestorm to stay away from him as much as possible.

               “No, sir, not this time.” Damn it, hold your tongue. “Shalestar has need of Robinsong’s help, and asked me to deliver the message.” Robinsong, bless her, knew how uncomfortable her grandfather made Gorsestorm these days, and stood up with a purr.

               “Alright, Grandpa, it’s about time you took your nap, anyway. I know your routine! I’ll see you later, okay?” Another ferocious harumph, but Buzzardclaw deigned to let her give him an affectionate lick and pad away without further comment. Gorsestorm led her over towards the medicine den with a relieved sigh.

               “Sorry about him,” she murmured, although her whiskers were twitching in amusement. “I know you know he doesn’t like you.”

               “Not sparing my feelings, huh?” He groused, but his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Anyway, you know that new molly we brought back?” She nodded. “Shalestar wants you to keep an eye on her. Since she seems to be about our age and all.” And all being that Heathernose didn’t speak unless spoken to most of the time, and Kiteclaw did not have the patience to stay in camp playing kit sitter all day. But Robinsong was much more affable and infinitely more patient, so it fell to her. Thankfully, she didn’t seem upset about it, just giving another pleasant nod. And now the only thing spinning in his head was Teaseltuft’s comment from earlier and he needed to get out of here before he said something stupid. “Awesome. Well, I’ve got-”

               “Can I ask you something?” She interrupted him, and now his stomach was tying itself into knots, but he just swallowed hard and stuttered an affirmative. “Are you okay?”

               “What?”

               “You’ve been acting weird lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just because I’m off, but I wanted to make sure you’re alright too.” She smiled. “You’ve been fussing enough over me, so I figured you could take your turn being worried about.” Okay, he had not been fussing. He just… Thrushspots had been Robinsong’s only family besides Buzzardclaw. And Robinsong was his friend, so of course he was going to check in on her, and make sure she had enough to eat, and had someone to go on patrols with and stuff. And yeah, she was close with Heather and Kite, but Heathernose wasn’t exactly the best when it came to comforting others, and Kiteclaw was mourning Thrushspots in her own secret way, so it was up to Gorsestorm to make sure Robinsong was alright these past couple moons. Come to think of it, maybe that’s not helping everyone’s perception of what’s going on.

               “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m fine, really. Shalestar has just, well, she’s been on me a lot lately, and- uh…” That sounded like a weak excuse, and while the brown molly was giving an understanding nod, she really did deserve an explanation, so he swallowed hard, again, and spit something out. “Actually, do you want to go hunting later? Or something?”

               “Or something,” she said, seeming amused. “Since I’m playing watch dog to our guest. You can go hunting and then we can eat together, how’s that sound?” Good enough.

               “Perfect. I’ll… tell you all about it then. It’s nothing terrible, I promise.” Robinsong reassured, he bid her goodbye, heading over towards the nursery. He spent most of his free time there with Nightkit now, especially since the little tom was only a moon shy of his apprentice ceremony. Sure enough, the four siblings were out, Nightkit sprawled out to the side watching his sisters and brother wrestle. Palesky and Littlestream must be out. A more regular occurrence, now that their kittens were older.

               “Hi, Gorsestorm,” the little gray tom mewed politely as the warrior came over. “Who’s that new cat?”

               “Her name is Lily. She was in trouble, so we brought her back to camp to help her. She’s probably only going to be here a few days.”

               “Good!” And that was Morningkit, who had been sent tumbling their way by Dawnkit. “I don’t like her. She’s weird.”

               “Morning! That’s rude!” Duskkit protested, seeming affronted on Lily’s behalf. “Mama says you’re not allowed to say stuff like that!”

               “Well, Mama’s not here, and that means I’m in charge!” The cream tom retorted, jumping when Gorsestorm cleared his throat.

               “It actually means I’m in charge, little burr.” He mewed drily. “And your sister is right, that is a rude thing to say. You haven’t even met her to make that assessment anyway.” The kit shook his head stubbornly.

               “Doesn’t matter-“ But it seemed his sisters had had enough, as they both tackled him and once again went rolling around. Beside him, Nightkit sighed. Gorsestorm shot him a smile.

               “My, five moons old and you sound like an elder. Is that some gray hair I see?” Nightkit gave him a deadpan look, which he was chagrinned to admit was much like his own. Stars know he didn’t learn that from his parents.

               “Morningkit is usually right about stuff.” He simply said. “Anyway, I heard a cool story from the elders. Wanna hear it?” Gorsestorm settled in, content to let the little tom regale him with a story of some deputy who challenged their leader to a battle of honor over some misbegotten deed. He definitely didn’t hear this from Buzzardclaw. But it was a pleasant way to spend time until the evening hunting patrol, which he was sent out on with Oatfur, Silverfang, and Dipperwing. Now those two- talk about attached at the hip. Dipperwing had regained some much-needed confidence, and with a little work was back to hunting and border patrols. Silverfang, now capable of speaking in a whisper, typically guided him around, pressed flank to flank to help make sure he didn’t stumble or run into anything unexpected. It allowed the black tom more freedom to run without worry, which he seemed to enjoy. As far as hunting went, Dipperwing’s hearing had taken on an even sharper edge, and now any rabbit chased towards him had little hope of escaping. It was a good compromise, since the tom had a hard time running them down himself, and also allowed him some sense of normality. The group was successful in their hunt, at any rate, bringing home five fat rabbits an hour or so later. More than we used to get in a whole day in the snow. Thank the stars for the spring. Once back in camp, the four warriors happily made their way to the freshkill pile to drop off their catch.

“Gorsestorm!” Came a call, and he looked to see Shalestar sitting with Robinsong. Father, I don’t know what kind of pull you have up there, Gorsestorm thought as he carefully approached the two mollies, but please do something to help me catch a break.

               “Shalestar, Robinsong. Everything alright?”

               “Not to worry, I just wanted to remind you about tomorrow,” Shalestar said. “You’ll be leaving for Shadowclan for a few days, remember? Are you ready for that?” And ok, he had forgotten, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ready. Shalestar was satisfied with his affirmative, waving goodbye to the two warriors before heading back to her den.

               “Want to eat now, then?” Robinsong asked. “You should get us one of those rabbits you just caught.”

               “Should’ve said something before I came over,” he grumbled, but obediently returned to the pile and brought a rabbit back to where the brown molly was now laying outside the medicine den. He shot the entrance a suspicious look. “Is Teaseltuft alone with her down there?” An eye roll.

               “No, Cinderfall is down there too. He wanted to chat, so I decided to take my allotted break so we could eat. And you could tell me about what’s going on.” I guess that’s fine. “What has Shalestar been on your tail about?” Right for the throat, I guess. Just pull the thorn out, Gorsestorm.

“Well, uh, she’s been on me about my… responsibilities to the Clan. Since I’m officially Heir now.” Just Heir, not Heir Apparent, which Palesky technically was, but that would change once Gorsestorm had mentored Nightkit. “And part of that includes finding someone to settle down with. I guess.”

               “I guess that would make sense,” she teased, looking casually around the camp. “Not a lot of options there, hm?” He winced.

               “Uh, you could say that.”

               “So, you’ve been awkward because you don’t want to ask me about it, or because you’re scared about what I’ll say?” All he could do was stare at her like she had three heads, and thankfully she seemed to find this funny instead of insulting, as she let out a loud laugh. “Gorse. You think I’m not aware? You’re not the only one who it’s been mentioned to, you know. Heather and Kite were telling me about it. They think you’re scared, but uh…” Now Robinsong seemed a little unsure, and great, that meant they were both off kilter, which meant he was probably going to put his foot in his mouth.

               “Sorry, about that, I, uh, I can tell them to lay off.” He stuttered, although internally he knew they wouldn’t listen to anything he said. By Robinsong’s unimpressed look, she knew that too. “But it’s not that I don’t want to ask you, it’s more like…” He let out a sigh, ears drooping. “My parents- they loved each other so much, you know? It was always this great romantic tale that my dad told. And I feel bad, you know, because while I think you’re great and I’m happy we’re friends, I don’t-” He trailed off. Stars above, Gorse, you’re not breaking up with her, it’s not like you’re reneging on some vow of affection-

               “But we don’t love each other like that, so it’s weird.” She finished, and he nodded, grateful.

               “I’m not saying I couldn’t, or won’t,” he said quietly, “but I don’t right now. And I don’t feel like it’s fair to ask you to court because everyone says I need to without, you know, knowing you’re okay with it too. Because I am okay with it otherwise,” he said quickly, and he really did mean that. “I- I think we could work together. I just… don’t want you to feel pressured into it. You deserve to court someone because you love them, not because you’re, well, their only option.” And it wasn’t nice to say, but it was the truth, wasn’t it? Robinsong hummed, and thankfully she didn’t look upset, just thoughtful.

               “How about this,” she said. “We could just… try it. Unofficially. See what happens, right? We are friends, so it’s not like it’s a pain spending time together. And then that might get Shalestar off your tail, and we could figure it out without so much pressure.” Father, I don’t know what you did, but I owe you. Relieved, he nodded.

               “You always were the smart one,” he said, which got another laugh out of her. “Although, does this mean I need to talk to Buzzardclaw?” Robinsong snorted.

               “Stars help us, please don’t. We’ll catch that mouse when we find it.” They continued on like that, joking and enjoying their meal together, and Gorsestorm let a little hope bloom in his chest. Maybe this really will work.

               Any hope fizzled out the next morning, which was cold and bleary and drizzly, the perfect weather for trekking across the territory and into the marsh. Ugh. He was sat just outside the camp with Teaseltuft, waiting for Shalestar to see him off. He’d be making the trip alone. How convenient.

               “Can I just go tomorrow?” He did not whine, he just asked normally, but Teaseltuft’s whiskers twitched all the same. Not all of us are built like sheep, he almost snapped, but again, he was doing his best to be… kinder with his words. “I only need to be there for a couple days, and there’s still a week before they head in.”

               “The sooner they can go in, the better.” And of course Shalestar picked now to show up. “If the last piece they need is what you can give them, then you need to go give it to them. A day could make the difference between success and failure.” It’s a miracle she hasn’t lost a life from stress yet, she’s wound so tight. But she had a point, and the sooner they got this taken care of, the sooner Poppypaw could go home. Speaking of…

               “Have you seen Poppypaw again?” He asked Teaseltuft, disappointed when the molly shook her head. Since that day a couple weeks after the battle, the medicine cat had reported seeing glimpses of Poppypaw’s spirit at random times and random places, from the Mothermouth to the Gathering hollow, day and night. She wasn’t able to speak with her, and she was the only one able to see her, not that Gorsestorm hadn’t tried, and now the sightings had been trailing off. Honestly, Gorsestorm was a little worried that something bad was happening to Poppypaw’s spirit, that she might have been out of Starclan too long. Teaseltuft didn’t seem to share his concerns.

               “She’s fine, Gorsestorm. Honestly, who’s to say she doesn't have her own plans? The best thing we can do for her now is focus on finding Featherfall.” He nodded with a sigh, resigning himself to his journey. It was early- how early impossible to tell because of the cloud cover, but probably around dawn. It would take a bit to slog his way over to Shadowclan, and it would be best to get going before his luck turned even worse and it started to rain.

               “Alright, then. I’m off, see you all in a few days. Send someone if anything important happens, and Teasel, do not do anything stupid while I’m gone.” The medicine cat just gave him a cheery grin, nudging him to his feet.

               “I promise not to do anything I think is stupid. Now, be safe, and give everyone my best.” Shalestar gave him a determined nod, yellow eyes standing out in the watery gray atmosphere, and with that, he loped off. Gorsestorm had said goodbye to Heather and Kite, and yes, Robinsong, the night before, knowing he would have to be up early, something none of the mollies were a fan of. What, you agree to try things out and then leave the next day? You sure know how to make a girl feel special. Robinsong had teased, green eyes sparkling with humor, and Gorsestorm had tried to defend himself without sounding stupid-

               He almost tripped over a rock, distracted by his thoughts. Gorsestorm gave himself a rough shake, picking up speed and refocusing on his task. This isn’t the time for that. No, now was the time to be serious, and put all of his effort into this single goal.

               Keep everyone safe.

______________________________________________________________

               By the time he arrived in the Shadowclan camp, Gorsestorm was thoroughly damp and miserable. He had mud all over his legs and belly from his run, he was positively shivering with cold, and his nose was running something awful. What a sight I must make, he grumbled to himself. Some Windclan representative. He had been met at the border by Briarmask, Batflight, and Houndtooth, and at the very least they also had muddy feet and wet pelts, so he wasn’t alone in his discomfort. They took him to Rosestar, who greeted him quite exuberantly for such a mucky day, and explained that Gorsestorm would be meeting with Turtledove and Littlesong to fill them in on what he knew. The next two days would be spent observing their training, offering more advice, and working out a schedule and place to meet with them. Some Shadowclan warriors would be taking him to potential meeting spots along the Town border so he could choose where he thought was best. He would also be responsible for coordinating with a Thunderclan and Riverclan messenger to ensure all the Clans would be kept in the loop about what was happening in Town. Apparently, Oakstar and Mintstar would be sending their chosen delegates the next day. Thankfully, the pointed tom gave him a chance to eat something and absorb all that information before shuffling him off to complete his many tasks.

               Now, Gorsestorm was in the quiet warriors’ den with Littlesong, Turtledove, Shadefur, and Briarmask, where it was much warmer and much more comfortable. He had thought it over while eating and grooming the mud out of his fur, and felt he knew how to explain his time in the Town without airing all his dirty secrets. Like accusing Shalestar of murder and losing in his fight against her. So embarrassing.

               “So,” he began. “When I first went into the Town, it took a couple of days for someone to approach me. The cat who did was a tom named Rocky. He wanted to know why a Clan cat was camping out in his territory, so I told him I had become disillusioned with my leader and wanted to try life on my own.” That… hadn’t been a complete lie. It had definitely taken about a week for him to cool off from the fight with Shalestar, and even then, it took learning of Stonestar’s involvement in the murders to get him to feel completely contrite. “He was happy with that and took me to meet Featherfall. Of course, I didn’t know who she was at the time, and she just introduced herself as Feather. She told me she had a grudge against the Clans for how they had treated her and asked if I would help her get some justice. That, of course, was a red flag, so I decided to try and learn if she had anything to do with my father’s murder. At that point, I only knew of his, Poppypaw, and Reedpelt’s death, and nothing of the omen, so I didn’t have a lot to go on.” A round of understanding nods, although Turtledove’s brow was furrowed like she had a question. She didn’t say anything, though, so he moved on. “They brought me to where Rocky’s group lived in an alley. He lived there with his mate, Sapphire, and their kits, Gem and Flip, along with a pair of toms named Snoop and Diver. Rocky’s brother, Crash, and his mate lived nearby supposedly, but I only met the brother once. I guess he was the cat who helped attack Fernfire. Other cats would stop by, but I didn’t usually see the same cat twice, and honestly, I don’t remember most of their names.”

               “Why did Shalestar send you to spy without telling the rest of the Clans?” Turtledove suddenly blurted out, seeming confused. “If she was going the spy route way back then, why not say anything?” Oh, perfect, the exact question he had wanted to avoid.

               “Uh, I, didn’t exactly tell Shalestar I was doing this. I kind of… took it upon myself to try and find who killed my father and Poppypaw. I was sick of waiting.” Hopefully they believe that. Thankfully, the other cats seemed satisfied, Turtledove giving an affirming nod before she suddenly wilted.

               “Er, sorry for, you know, interrupting, I just… couldn’t figure it out.” Gorsestorm just shrugged. He wasn’t in a place to judge others about being rude.

               “No worries. Anyway, when I found out about Stonestar and Featherfall and their real plans, and the fact that they killed my father, I was furious. Thankfully, I hadn’t actually seen Stonestar at that point, and Featherfall thought I was just a random Windclanner. I tried to insert myself more after that, you know, volunteering to help hunt and train others, and I thought Featherfall trusted me. Later I found out she didn’t tell me about Kestrelcall’s death, just that she was planning an attack on Shadowclan. I did my best to sow discord in the rogue group by telling the cats who would visit Rocky horror stories about the Clans, that Featherfall wasn’t actually planning on giving them territory, that kind of stuff. Cats stopped coming by after that. But I think that got Featherfall and Rocky suspicious. I tried to follow Featherfall when she left one night, and ended up finding her talking to Stonestar. Rocky had followed after me and found me eavesdropping, and, well…” He winced, pawing at the scar on the side of his face. “That didn’t end well. Stonestar recognized me and I was exposed. I got lost in the Town running from them, and it took me a while to find my way back to the territories. So, well, that’s about it. What questions do you have for me?”

               “How often did Featherfall come by?” Briarmask asked immediately, leaning forward. “Was it on a schedule or was it random?”

               “She came by four or five times in the two weeks I was really integrated, once every few days. Always at night, and she seemed to always come from a different direction. So consistent, but nothing was set in advance. She just kind of came by when she wanted.”

               “How does she treat the cats under her?” That was Shadefur, head cocked to the side. “They have to be loyal for a reason, especially if you think they’re still sticking with her now.” Gorsestorm hummed.

“I’m not going to lie, she’s an excellent leader. Featherfall didn’t tolerate any disrespect towards her or to each other, especially between the mates. She clawed Rocky once when he cursed at Hazel, said that we could never achieve a goal if we couldn’t even get along amongst ourselves.” He let out a sigh. “I don’t know if it’s genuine, but she at least acts like she truly cares about the wellbeing of the cats that follow her. Playing with Hazel’s kits, making sure everyone got enough to eat, training them how to fight, getting to know their stories. From what I understand, that’s hard to come by in the Town. Well, that and she promised them territory in the forest if they were successful in helping her hurt the Clans.”

               “I’m supposed to try and integrate into Rocky’s group.” Turtledove said, blue eyes anxious. “Do you think they’ll be suspicious after what happened with you?” Gorsestorm hummed thoughtfully.

               “Well, not really, because you’re not going in as a Clan cat. If you announced yourself as a Thunderclanner, they would throw you out in a heartbeat. But Rocky was anxious about keeping their little group together, fretting about their numbers versus our numbers here in the Clans. He’s definitely logistically minded, and he doesn’t like uneven odds. I’m sure that’s even worse now that Crash is dead and Rocky’s kits are still too young at this point to learn to fight. If we’re right about a lot of cats abandoning Featherfall after the battle, Rocky is probably desperate for new recruits. I say as long as you can sell your loner act, you won’t have any problems with them.”

               “What about cats outside of your group?” Littlesong suddenly piped up, looking interested. “Were they all loners? Or were there kittypets too? Why did they just pass through?”

               “Well, there was the occasional kittypet, but I maybe saw two total approach Rocky, and he usually sent them on their way. There was one tom who stopped by a few times when I was there, I think his name was Whistle? Something like that?” Gorsestorm shook his head. “Anyway, he was older, and I think he led his own group. I didn’t start to suspect that until right before I got found out, though, so I didn’t get a chance to follow up.” He hesitated. “To be honest, I’m not too sure why they never stayed. They would always talk to Rocky and then leave, and I wasn’t in a position to know what they were talking about. If I had to guess, they would probably be other cats recruited by Featherfall, maybe part of their own groups and such.” Littlesong looked a little disappointed, but what could you do. With nothing else to ask, it was time to move on to the next part- learning their cover stories.

               “My name is Dandelion,” Littlesong introduced himself. “I’m from a different part of the Town, or maybe another Town entirely. I was born on the street, but was taken in by humans as a kitten. I lived with the same humans until they took me to a new house, the one I live in now. I’m unhappy there and I want to try to return to the street, but I’m afraid to be alone in an unfamiliar place. That’s why I’m looking to join a colony instead.” Simple and to the point. That’s good. Turtledove looked nervous, tail twitching and eyes darting about, but her voice was steady, if a little quiet.

               “My name is Turtle,” she murmured. “I was born on the street. I lived with my parents and brothers. I was picked up by a human and taken to their house, but I escaped soon after. I’m now in a new part of Town and I don’t know how to get home. I’m looking to join a group since I’m unfamiliar with the area and scared to be alone.” She cleared her throat, looking a little less nervous. “I’m also going to see if someone can ‘help me get home.’ Shadefur and Tulipstem taught me about a different area of Town that’s kind of far from Rocky’s territory that I’m pretending to be from. If they know cats actually from that area, they might mention it.” Shadefur nodded.

               “If they’re reconnecting with other groups, or finding new ones, we want to know.” He said. “We’re trying to cover as much territory as possible here.”

               “Makes sense,” Gorsestorm agreed. "And those stories sound perfectly plausible to me, not that I’m the expert here. But it definitely sounds like the stories I heard while I was there.” Taken by humans, abandoned by humans, separated from family… the life of a Town cat was difficult, that’s for sure.

               “Alright then,” Briarmask announced. “Time for some more training. We’re taking these two out with the apprentices to learn some sneaking techniques. Want to come?” While Gorsestorm wanted nothing more than to curl up and take a nap, it would be stupid to pass on a chance to learn stealth from a Shadowclanner. Not that they would teach any secret techniques or whatever, but their basics were probably a lot more advanced than Windclan’s.

               “Sure thing,” he said, thankfully not sounding sarcastic, and followed them out of the den and into the mire.

______________________________________________________________

               Gorsestorm did learn a lot, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. On the way back, the Shadowclanners told him they wouldn’t bother seeking out meeting spots until during the day- most Town cats were active exclusively at night, which meant they shouldn’t be spotted. Except by kittypets, and they can usually be intimidated into silence, Briarmask had mewed mischievously. Or bribed. Gorsestorm had gratefully collapsed into the nest they had made for him, not even bothered by the strangers pressing up against him. Typically he’d be annoyed, as in Windclan the warriors den was actually a series of burrows with plenty of space to spread out, but now he was too tired to care. What he was annoyed by was the cheerful little tortoiseshell who woke him at the crack of dawn.

               “Hey, Mr. Windclanner, time to get up!” She chirped, unafraid to start poking him in the ribs, which was bold, in his opinion. Shadowclanners have no manners. He picked up his head, happy in a annoyed way to see he was still taller than her lying down than she was standing. Gorsestorm pinned her with an unimpressed look that she seemed immune to. “My name is Emberpaw, I’m Crowcall’s apprentice!”

               “We met last night.” He deadpanned. The little molly had seemed like a pawful, easily distracted and running Crowcall ragged. Briarmask had said it was good for him.

               “Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway!” She quickly recovered, puffing herself up. “Nightrock from Thunderclan is here to talk to you. Crowcall said I was the best at waking cats up, so he sent me to tell you.” Of course he did. Gorsestorm liked Crowcall, since the tom was easygoing and friendly enough to be liked by anyone, but he was ready to cuff him. Siccing his apprentice on me, he grumbled to himself, as he stood and shook the moss from his pelt. The nerve of some cats. Emberpaw cheerfully bounded out of the den, Gorsestorm dragging tail behind her, and over to where her mentor was sitting with another black tom. It was funny that they could look so different, despite having the same fur length and color. Nightrock was stoic looking, with serious gray eyes, immaculately groomed fur, and rigid posture. He stood about half a head taller than Crowcall, the scars littering his face only adding to the appearance of a battle hardened warrior. Crowcall, with his shaggy fur, permanent half smile, gleaming copper eyes, and proclivity to recline more than sit, looked like a rogue. The difference between Thunderclan and Shadowclan has never been more apparent. And then you had Gorsestorm, as tall as Nightrock but half as wide, long legged and wiry, large, rounded ears each almost the size of his head. There was a reason he stuck out in the Town, after all.

               “Good morning,” Nightrock greeted cordially as Gorsestorm finally sat with a thump beside him. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I know preparations must be hectic.” You could say that.

“I feel like I have the least to do here,” Gorsestorm mewed instead, smiling with dry humor. “You’re coming here is giving me something productive to do, so I feel like I should thank you instead.” The Thunderclanner offered his own small smile.

               “I understand that you will be meeting with the spies on a weekly basis. Do you intend for it to always be after the same amount of days, or on a case by case basis?”

               “Case by case,” Gorsestorm replied. “If they are coming to meet me on too regular of a schedule, they could arouse suspicion. I was planning on arranging meetings as we go, no less than once a week, but more frequently if the situation calls for it.” By changing the meeting spot and time every time they met, they would hopefully not be suspected of anything. It was a tactic he had learned from Featherfall, and it had worked pretty well for her. Nightrock nodded.

               “In that case, I will be sure to visit our own meeting spot several times a week. If you’d like to come along with me now, I can show you of where I was thinking.” Gorsestorm was not looking forward to all the walking he would do today- he was more of a sprinter than a long distance sort of guy- but there was nothing for it. Bidding his goodbyes to Crowcall and Emberpaw, who had been lurking around the edges of their conversation in a blatant attempt to eavesdrop, the two toms set out. As they padded along, Gorsestorm’s sleepy brain caught up to him, and he gave Nightrock a confused look.

               “Aren’t we just going to meet at Fourtrees?” He asked, slowing to a stop. “That’s easiest for everyone.” He could hit it on the way home and everyone could meet at once instead of him having to travel to the Town via Shadowclan, then to Thunderclan, then to Riverclan. So why…”

               “Yes, I assumed we would,” Nightrock said, also coming to a stop. The tom looked… sheepish? “I actually, um… wanted to ask you how Bluetail is doing. Snowdrift told me that you know of our, uh, situation.” Oh, right, that did make sense.

               “Uh, she’s good,” he mewed, scrambling for something to say. It’s not like we’re best buddies, but Teaseltuft did love to talk. “Teaseltuft is happy with how the pregnancy is going, says it’ll probably be a moon before the kittens are born.” The Thunderclanner was hanging onto his every word, and Gorsestorm felt bad he didn’t have more to tell him. “I can let you know how she’s doing when we meet, if you’d like. I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell you right now.”

               “I’d be forever grateful,” Nightrock said, dipping his head. “Now, we can go to Fourtrees if you’d like. We can probably catch whomever Oakstar is sending on our way there, and let them know the plan.” Gorsestorm groaned internally but acquiesced, obediently trotting alongside the Thunderclanner. After he was done here it was back to Shadowclan, then to the Town border to pick out the other meeting spots, then probably more training…

               It was going to be a long day.

First|Previous|Next

[overgrowth-wc]

PYROPHYTE: CHAPTER ONE

HERE WE GO AGAIN

Our new warrior is about to learn to be careful when making promises. Thankfully, she's not in too much trouble for it. Hopefully?

     “Hey, Turtledove!” The calico molly looked up from where she had been trying to take a nap, struggling not to show her irritation. Owlfeather was running up to her, Rainstripe hot on his heels, and their obvious excitement was enough to make her soften. She could just nap later, anyway. I guess. Hopefully.

               “What?” She asked, staring at the white blaze on Rainstripe’s forehead. She could just see the way his blue eyes, so similar to hers, crinkled in a smile.

               “Amberpelt is having her kittens now,” he mewed, kneading the ground excitedly. “Maybe she’ll have three, and then when they’re old enough, we can be their mentors! Wouldn’t that be fun?” Turtledove rolled her eyes with a smile, flopping back down onto her side.

               “We were only just made warriors, you know. They’d probably make Cloudclaw and the rest from that class mentors before us.” Owlfeather threw himself down beside her with a chuff, Rainstripe content to stay standing, tail still lashing happily.

               “Turtle, you forget our advantage. You were Mintstar’s apprentice! And you helped save the forest! Surely that entails some exceptions. And we, as your loyal and loving brothers, can be lumped in as well!” Turtledove muttered something to the effect of a denial, now staring up at the golden evening sky above her. It had been two moons since that final battle, and things were, well. Not normal, but not terrible either. No progress had been made in finding Featherfall, the molly disappearing into the Town like a ghost. Shadowclan had been trying all their contacts, but anyone who had allied with Featherfall had similarly disappeared, heading deeper into the Town to avoid any more conflict with the Clans. Things were about to change on that front, however. Now that the weather was turning favorably and prey was returning in droves, the Clans could finally concentrate more effort into hunting Featherfall instead of food. At least, that’s what Mintstar said.

               Her old mentor had taken to being leader like a duck to water, and together with Whitefoot had ensured Thunderclan survived the worst of winter without further tragedy. Turtledove and her brother’s warrior’s ceremony this past moon had been a huge to do, being the first ceremony Mintstar had performed as leader. I wanted to ask you about your name, her then mentor had said, the same afternoon that the three apprentices had completed their assessments. I know it’s not traditional, but I was thinking of naming you Turtledove. For the peace you helped bring, and the hope the Clan has for peace in the future. Now, the Clan was living boldly, and spring was looking to be busy. Amberpelt was currently having kits, and Dovecall would be having her litter sometime in the next moon. It was nice to see new life after so much death, and Turtledove couldn’t help but share in her brother’s excitement. Even if we don’t become mentors this time, she thought, it will still be fun to have more kits in the Clan.

               “Where is Mintstar, anyway?” Owlfeather asked, nudging his sister in that pesky way of his. “She still has to announce who’s going to the Gathering tonight. We’re gonna get picked, right?” Turtledove huffed.

               “I don’t know why you think I’m Mintstar’s flea,” she complained. “I don’t know where she is or what she’s thinking every minute, you know.” A pause. “But she’s talking with Snowdrift now, and yeah, we’ve been picked to go tonight.” The two toms cheered, and Turtledove couldn’t help her happy grin. “I hope Loudpaw and Beetlepaw are there. They’ve probably got their names by now too!”

               The siblings passed a pleasant while like that, chatting and laughing and discussing what might happen at the Gathering that night. It would be the second since the battle, and they hadn’t gone to the last one, you know, sitting vigil instead, so it was even more exciting to be going tonight. Eventually, though, Rainstripe parted for a hunting patrol, then Owlfeather for the dusk patrol, and Turtledove, having gone on patrols that morning, was left to hopefully have a short nap before it was time to leave. Once again, she was interrupted, but this time by Mintstar, so she didn’t roll her eyes.

               “Turtledove, would you mind coming to my den with me? I’d like to speak with you about some plans for tonight.” Turtledove nodded quickly, anticipation washing away any tiredness she might feel. Owlfeather and Rainstripe do have a point I guess, she mused as she followed Mintstar into her den. Mintstar usually fills me in on whatever is going on. The calico couldn’t help but be proud about the trust her leader placed in her, and pushed herself every day to honor that trust, and show everyone that it was well placed. Be a ‘model Thunderclan warrior,’ like her father had always impressed upon them. Now, if only I could grow to actually look like a Thunderclan warrior, that would be swell. She was still at least a half a head shorter than her average clanmate, even Flystorm, which was kind of embarrassing. The hope for a growth spurt dimmed every day, but crazier things had happened. “Tonight,” Mintstar began, snapping Turtledove from a daydream where she stood taller than Snowdrift, “I will be meeting with the other leaders for a little bit after the Gathering announcements. It’s time to start really looking for Featherfall.” Turtledove couldn’t help but tense at the sound of the molly’s name. She wouldn’t lie- Featherfall terrified her.

               “Do you have any idea on how to do that?” She asked, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “I know Shadowclan hasn’t had any luck.”

               “The problem is that the Shadowclan warriors are too recognizable. Any Town cat who may know of Featherfall or still be loyal to her are likely to avoid them or be unwilling to help. We need cats going in who won’t be recognized.” Turtledove nodded.

               “Oh, so like a spy thing. That makes sense.”

               “Exactly. The other leaders and I have worked out a plan. It will involve sending cats into the Town posing as loners and such, in order to build credibility. Those cats will then find where Featherfall is, so that we might bring her to trial.” Yeah, that’s an even better idea. But…

               “Well, you’ll need to make sure no rogues who were in our camp could recognize the cats you choose,” Turtledove cautioned.

               “Right. That leaves few to choose from.”

               “And they’ll need to be pretty sneaky- they’ll be spying, after all.”

               “Exactly what I was thinking.”

               “And they’ll need to be able to take care of themselves, too. It will be difficult to like, hunt or fight by yourself in a strange place…”

               “I would have to choose someone very capable, yes.” Turtledove blinked worriedly.

               “It’ll be hard to find a cat who fits all those criteria.” The calico was confused when all Mintstar did was smile, before a terrible suspicion began to build in her gut. She narrowed her eyes at that all-too-pleased grin.

               “Turtledove,” Mintstar said placidly, “do you remember when you promised to do whatever you could to help?”

______________________________________________________________

               What a manipulator. A swindler. I cannot believe she would do this to me. Turtledove was pouting, yes, but in all fairness, she was in a bind. Mintstar wanted her? Turtledove? The Turtledove, who couldn’t look a cat in the eye, and said the wrong thing, like, more than half the time, and very much disliked being around strangers, thank you, to go play super spy in the Town? By herself?          

“This is why you don’t make promises to do ‘whatever you can,’ Turtle.” She murmured to herself, slinking along behind her brothers as they made their way to Fourtrees. “Trouble. Nothing but trouble.” Worst of all, there was a little… spark, a tenuous, tiny ball of excitement in her chest, that tried very insistently to say that this would be an awesome adventure. The part of her that enjoyed sneaking, and doing cool things like investigating a murder, and showing everyone that yes, the Turtledove was capable and amazing and was more than the awkward kit they all saw her as, that part of her, was tumbling around in glee. Things with her clanmates had been a bit better since the battle, it was true, but maybe, if she could pull this off, and help bring Featherfall to justice, then her parents would stop babying her and everyone would respect her and maybe even genuinely like her instead of tolerate her and… yeah. Yeah, that would all be really great.

               So yes, she was annoyed, but if she were honest, she was also terribly excited.

               They arrived at the hollow then, and when Turtledove sniffed the air, she could only smell Shadowclan. Good, maybe Loudpaw and Beetlepaw are here. Mintstar paused for a moment, bringing everyone to a stop, then waited another beat before nodding to signal that they could move in. Mood drastically improved, Turtledove raced down the slope, outpacing her brothers, who cried out as she slipped between them, and down into a cluster of Shadowclanners. They nodded agreeably to her as she wove through them, which she returned with her own jerky greetings, and quite quickly she found the two cats she was looking for. Loudpaw and Beetlepaw were sitting near Browntail, laughing together about something. Loudpaw perked up when he saw her coming, cheering as she walked up.

               “Turtle! Tell me you have a name to match ours,” he demanded, Beetlepaw shooting her a grin.

               “Yeah, Turtle, we’ll tell you ours if you tell us yours!”

               “Turtledove! Uh, my name, it’s Turtledove now.” The calico wouldn’t lie, she was a little nervous that they would find her name silly, or weird, or say something like Mintstar couldn’t come up with good names. To her relief, they nodded, seeming pleased. Loudpaw smiled brightly.

               “It suits you!” The dark gray tom declared, puffing out his chest. “Just like Loudstorm suits me!”

               “And I’m Beetlewhisker now! I have to say, though, it doesn’t flow as well as your names do.” The molly shrugged, her grin taking on a mischievous tilt. “Although, I heard a rumor that Loudstorm was supposed to have a different name…” Turtledove leaned forward with interest, deftly ignoring the tom’s protests and denials. “Ma told me that Rosestar was whining to her about Loud’s name. ‘Come on Snakepelt,’” Beetlewhisker huffed in a surprisingly accurate imitation of her leader, “’You had to come up with a difficult name, huh? What am I supposed to call the boy, exactly? Loudfur? Loudcloud? Loudmouth?’” Turtledove was outright cackling now, and even Browntail, who had been silent up to this point, let out a chuckle. Loudstorm was hissing and batting at his sister, furiously denying any such occurrence.

               “Well, at least he didn’t name you Loudmouth,” Turtledove snickered, and nearly jumped straight in the air when she felt something bump against her back. Distracted as she was, she hadn’t noticed Windclan and Riverclan’s arrival in the now crowded hollow, cats weaving through the crowd to look for friends or clanmates. She recognized the tom who had accidentally knocked into her when he turned to offer a quick apology for spooking her, the yellow one from the Long Night Gathering performance. He disappeared before she could respond, and she was quick to turn back to her friends, now teasing her for being so jumpy. Loudstorm had found it funny to startle her, way back when she was staying at their camp, and was happy to divert the conversation away from his new name and towards Turtledove’s jumpiness. Browntail had disappeared at some point, and Turtledove was in the middle of telling Loudstorm to go jump in the river when the Gathering was called.

               “Let this Gathering begin!” Shalestar, of course. The gray leader stood tall alongside her fellows, looking more lean now than scrawny. Looks like everyone is starting to do better. “I am happy to share some excellent news with you all tonight. This past half-moon, our medicine cat received her full name- Teaseltuft!” Turtledove happily cheered the molly’s new name, just able to see where the medicine cat was bashfully nodding her thanks. Splashpaw, beside her, whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. “I am also pleased to announce that Daisypetal and Oatfur have had three healthy daughters- Sorrelkit, Fennelkit, and Rushkit!” More cheers, this time briefer, and Shalestar gave an accepting nod before stepping back. “Aside from that, no news to report.”

               “I’ll go next, then!” Rosestar mewed, not giving the other two leaders a chance to speak. “We welcome two new warriors into our midst- Loudstorm and Beetlewhisker!” There’s going to be a lot of cheering tonight, Turtledove thought. Thunderclan has our names and Amberpelt’s kits, and then if Riverclan has anybody to name… “No activity from the Town, and no word about any trouble brewing. We will, of course, let you all know if anything develops.” Disappointing, but expected at this point. There was a reason the Clans were resorting to spies and the like to investigate now. Oakstar and Mintstar looked at each other, the old tom nodding deferentially to the patched molly. She dipped her own head in thanks before stepping up to speak. She looks so much smaller without her tail. Still intimidating, though.

               “Thunderclan is also pleased to announce three new warriors. We welcome Owlfeather, Rainstripe, and Turtledove!” Being on the receiving end of the cheers was quite nerve wracking, Turtledove doing her best to shrink behind Loudstorm, who merely stepped aside with a laugh, the traitor. Mercifully, Mintstar moved on quickly. “Amberpelt also gave birth this morning. Ancestor’s willing, I will have two kits to announce next Gathering.” Her brothers had been disappointed that there were only two, before quickly getting into an argument over which of them would get one, since let’s face it, Turtle, if any of us get one it’s going to be you. Really, it would probably be a question of whether Tigerwhisker or Stripestream got one, but what did she know? “Other than that, it has been peaceful in the forest.” Finally, Oakstar took his place at the front.

               “Riverclan has one new warrior to welcome- Ripplepool!” Turtledove almost felt bad for the molly, as the Clans seemed to be getting tired of cheering by now, but they still gave a few rousing cries of her name before trailing off. “And, finally, we welcome Lavenderfur and Sunsplash’s kits, Blossomkit and Galekit!” Finally indeed. But it was that time of year, apparently, and it was likely the next Gathering or two would see a wave of new kits, apprentices, and warriors. “Now, since it’s such a pleasant evening, we will end the announcements here. Enjoy your time together.” With that the leaders jumped back down, and conversations started up again all around them. Quickly, though, Mintstar appeared from nowhere, looming over Loudstorm, who was now bragging about allegedly fighting a badger all by himself.

               “Impressive, young tom,” Mintstar hummed, and the tom in question nearly jumped out of his fur, having not heard her come up. Turtledove couldn’t help but laugh at that, sticking out her tongue when Loudstorm gave her a dirty look. Beetlewhisker snickered about payback while Turtledove flicked a questioning ear at Mintstar. “Turtledove, I hate to pull you from your friends, but there’s some cats I would like you to speak with.” The calico nodded, headbutting her friends goodbye and waving a tail to their well wishes as she disappeared into the crowd. Mintstar lead her over to a spot near one of the Oaks, where the leaders, deputies, medicine cats, and a few other warriors were gathered. There was the yellow Riverclan tom, a Windclan tom she was pretty sure was Shalestar’s relation, and Shadefur, who she actually recognized. The other leaders nodded as Turtledove and Mintstar came up, taking a seat next to Whitefoot and Snowdrift.

               “Excellent,” Shalestar said, giving them all a smile. “I’m sure everyone knows, but we gather to finish planning our hunt for Featherfall in the Town. After discussion with the other leaders, we have decided to send two cats into the Town to pose as a loner and a kittypet, supported by warriors from Shadowclan and a representative from Windclan.” She cast a look at the tom next to her, who cleared his throat.

               “I… did some reconnaissance in the Town, back when Featherfall and Stonestar were active. I tried to join their group but did not attempt to hide that I was a Clan cat, not that I very well could.” He flicked an overly large ear. “I was in their confidence for a couple of weeks and learned about how they operated, at least on a small-scale level. They had what I thought was a single gang at their beck and call, but we know now that they had multiple. That being said, I would be happy to offer my help when it comes to the cats themselves and how Featherfall ran things. Some of these cats were very loyal to Featherfall- I’m sure that hasn’t changed.” Rosestar jumped in.

               “Unfortunately, my warriors are too well known, so they cannot be seen interacting with our chosen spies lest the Town cats see and become suspicious. Instead, we will be happy to host the spies for a while before they go in, to teach them about the Town and help them learn to blend in better. We will also maintain our presence in the Town should anything go wrong and our assistance is needed.” All of this is sounding perfectly reasonable, Turtledove mused, but who’s going to be the kittypet? It better not be me.

               “Now, for said spies.” Oakstar rumbled. “Littlesong here will be posing as a kittypet. He will be staying with one of Shadowclan’s contacts in the Town in order to support this story.” Oh, thank the ancestors.  Turtledove couldn’t help but feel bad for the tom, though. He definitely looked a little put out. I couldn’t stand being near a twoleg, though. So probably better he gets to deal with it- Riverclanner’s aren’t afraid of them, right?

               “Turtledove will be going in as a loner,” Mintstar said, and the calico tried not to shrink away from all the eyes that landed on her. “The goal will be for you two to cover different parts and social spheres of the Town. From what we know, the group Gorsestorm was most familiar with is located near Thunderclan territory. They were her most loyal followers, and likely are still in touch with her. Turtledove will be charged with infiltrating that group and sniffing out the connection to Featherfall. The place Littlesong is staying is further into the Town. We hope that Featherfall might have relocated close to there, since we know she has been seen in that area at least once. In a few days, Littlesong and Turtledove will go to Shadowclan, where they will establish their cover stories and begin their new sort of training about the Town.”

               “Gorsestorm will be travelling to Shadowclan as well and staying there for part of the training. Afterwards, he will be travelling to the Town once a week to check in with Turtledove and Littlesong so they can report any information they have learned.” Shalestar mewed. “We do not want you two having any contact with your home Clans lest anyone see or smell the resemblance. Since a Windclanner would stick out too much, we will instead offer our services in a supporting role. Now, we hope to have this situation resolved as quickly as possible, but must plan for it to take a while, even moons.” Moons? In the Town? By myself? This was suddenly not as exciting.

               “Town cats are… not the most trusting,” Rosestar explained with grimace. “It might take a while to integrate into a group, and then even longer before they trust you completely. The first goal is just to be accepted. The second goal is to learn something helpful. Remember, this will require patience and dedication from all of us. We will only get this one opportunity to fool these cats. If someone’s cover is blown, there is a chance they could warn Featherfall and she’ll disappear forever.” Ok, she had been nervous before, but now there was a yawning pit in her stomach and this didn’t really sound like fun anymore- Turtledove cast a desperate glance at Mintstar, a little relieved to see the molly looked unimpressed.

               “My mother will not simply throw away her goals upon discovery. Even if these cats were to be found out, I feel she would only accelerate whatever her plan is, not abandon it completely. Of course, we do not want that either, so discretion is paramount. I fear that with the turn in the weather, Featherfall is also preparing to enact whatever her next idea is. We must try and prevent that from happening.” Rosestar is so dramatic. Or, well, hopefully he’s just being dramatic. What Mintstar says sounds much more reasonable, anyway. The pointed tom didn’t contest this point, merely nodded, and Shadefur hesitantly opened his mouth.

               “We felt it best to assign… mentors, of sorts, to really help you two prepare for your time in the Town. Littlesong, Briarmask and Crowcall will be helping you, since they’re familiar with the part of Town you’ll be in. Turtledove, my mate is from the area you’ll be going to. She and I will be the ones helping you prepare.” That was good. Turtledove liked Shadefur, the tom calm and understanding but not wishy washy. Tulipstem was really timid, but so was Turtledove, of course, so they got along in that sense. She felt a little better knowing they were going to be the ones getting her ready.

               “In three days, you will travel to Shadowclan, so make sure you spend time with your family and friends. It might be a while before you see them again.” Shalestar advised, and on that light note, the group all bid their goodbyes. Mintstar dismissed Turtledove back to her friends, and as the calico padded her way back over to where they were gathered, she couldn’t help the anxious beating of her heart.

               Can I really do this?

______________________________________________________________

               Three days later, it was time to find out. Turtledove sat in the nearly empty camp clearing, the sun just starting to rise. She had struggled to fall asleep last night- she was still just a little unused to her new nest, and now she was going to have to adjust to another new nest. I feel like I’m never going to sleep again. They wouldn’t be going to meet the others until after the sun rose, but the calico wanted a moment to herself before she was inevitably swarmed with goodbyes from her parents and siblings. They were less than happy that she was leaving, except her father of course, who was strutting around camp and bragging like she had hung the moon, but, well, Badger- or, Tornleg, now, was just like that. Turtledove was pulled from her musings when she saw Snowdrift pad from his den, humming to himself as he crossed the clearing towards the nursery. Catching sight of the warrior, he changed direction towards her, approaching with a smile and a friendly blink.

               “Morning, Turtle,” he said brightly, as if it weren’t the crack of dawn. “Up early, hm? I guess you do have a big day. How are you feeling about it?” She may not be meeting regularly with Snowdrift anymore, having a much more solid grasp on how to handle the things that gave her so much anxiety, but he did still check up on her regularly.

               “Nervous, and excited, and very scared. I don’t wanna mess this up.” She murmured, staring at his paws. He didn’t mind when she didn’t look at him when speaking, and she would take advantage of it now. He was silent for a moment, probably nodding in that thoughtful way of his.

               “Can I tell you something?” She twitched an ear. “Even if you do mess this up, it’ll still be ok.” She couldn’t help but glance up at him in surprise. Everyone had been telling her they knew she could do it, but that was also scary, because how disappointed would they be when or if she failed- “Like Mintstar said, Featherfall is committed to seeing this through, and any bit that you can do or learn will be helpful. So, even if you did get found out, we’ll still be in a better place than we are now.” He gave her a kind flick with his tail. “And anyway, I don’t think it’ll come to that. I know it’s hard to believe you can do this. I felt the same way when I received the omen and all. But remember this- when you doubt yourself, think about how Mintstar and I and everyone else trusts you, and believes you’ll be successful. Do you think we have bad judgement?” Turtledove furiously shook her head. “Good. If you don’t trust yourself, trust us, and do your best. Now, I was actually going to see about doing the kit blessing for Amberpelt and Ashleaf. If you wait outside the nursery, I’ll tell you what the kits names are when I’m done. Sound good?” And yeah, that did sound good. The names wouldn’t be announced to the Clan until after the blessing, bad luck and all that, which meant besides Snowdrift and the parents, Turtledove would be the first to know. And maybe her time in Shadowclan had rubbed off on her, because being the first to know sounded delightful. Turtledove obediently trotted after her medicine cat and reclined outside the entrance to the nursery, happy to distract herself with identifying the different birdsong. Robin, bluebird, thrush…

               As the sun really started to shine in the clearing, Snowdrift wiggled his way out of the nursery, wincing as thorns scratched at his pelt. Turtledove bounced to her feet, looking at him expectedly. He snorted, but it was fond.

               “Applekit for the tom, Sagekit for the molly, of course.” He said, and Turtledove nodded happily. It was to be expected that they would’ve named one kit after Sagefur. She knew some Clans didn’t like naming kits after dead family, but it was just the thing to do in Thunderclan. It was an honor, to carry on a name, and to have the blessing of your namesake. Her own brother was named after their uncle Owlwing, who had passed of some illness as a young warrior. Owlfeather would be blessed by his special protection, just like Sagekit would now be protected by her aunt.

               “Turtle!” And speaking of… Her brothers had finally woken up, and now insisted on escorting her over to the elder’s den so they could wait for their dad to wake up, Aspenwing trailing over after them. It was nice, to spend this time with everybody. Rainstripe and Owlfeather swatted at each other in their excitement, insisting on showing her some last minute moves they had come up with to help her out. Aspenwing fretted, reminding her to watch out for rats and rogues and, stars forbid, strange toms. Tornleg sat there with his chest puffed out, giving her a gentle cuff around the ears and an atta girl, telling her he just knew she’d make them all proud. When Mintstar emerged from her den to make her way over, the morning sun bright and full and signaling that it was time to head out, Turtledove was suddenly overwhelmed with the desperate feeling of I don’t want to go. She wanted to stay in camp, and go hunting with her brothers, or share tongues with her mom, or see if maybe Tigerwhisker would wanna go look for feathers or something, the molly had been becoming something like a friend, lately, since they were the youngest mollies in the warriors den, you know, and she wanted to have a molly friend, not just her brothers, or maybe she could join Snowdrift in looking for herbs-

               “Turtledove.” She looked wildly up at Mintstar. Her leader placed a solid paw on her shoulder. “It’s time to go. Are you ready?” No, no I’m really- And then something Snowdrift told her about came back to her, and she took a deep breath.

               She could see the smiling faces of her family, Minstar, solid and secure as ever, the pride in their eyes, the brilliant blue sky, the way the morning sun dappled the camp. She could feel the night cold sand beneath her feet, the cool spring breeze in her fur, Mintstar’s comforting paw on her shoulder, the nerves fluttering in her gut. She could hear all her beautiful birds, her clanmates chatting as they slipped from their dens, the new leaves rustling. She could smell the familiar oak, the warm scent of prey carried on the breeze.

               She could taste the anticipation snapping on her tongue.

               “I think so.”

               Travelling to Shadowclan was both familiar and foreign. The last time she had come this way it had been snowy and miserable, and for part of it she had also been running for her life and desperately trying to keep Snowdrift alive as well, so it really couldn’t compare to this nice spring jaunt she was on now. There was only a bit of snow left, with most of it melted into puddles and mud. The breeze was cold, but the sun was warm, and she couldn’t help but enjoy herself. All to soon they were at the road, and although they knew about the tunnel now, Mintstar said they were going to cross normally out of respect to Shadowclan. Sitting here peacefully with Mintstar was also much nicer than sitting with Stonestar had been, and Turtledove was content to wait in an easy silence. Not for too long, though, since Shadowclan knew they were coming, and before long two cats appeared across the road, waving them over quickly. Now Turtledove just did the best she could to block out those memories, of that day on the road, and the fur on her spine prickled, waiting for heavy paws to slam into her back-

               And then they were across, Blackear and Bluebird comforting in their familiarity, and they chatted amiably with Mintstar as Turtledove trailed along behind them. She wasn’t super paying attention to their conversation, but she was listening intently for the birds, which is what alerted her to the barely there sound of someone creeping through the undergrowth near them- try as they might, they couldn’t help the quiet squelching of the mud pulling at everyone’s feet. Trying to act casual, she dropped back a little further, acting like she was intrigued with a fern unfurling nearby, but really, she was straining to hear, and yes, now they were sneaking up behind her…

               When her assailant leapt, she was ready, rolling to the side and immediately throwing herself at where they had landed, unbalanced. They went tumbling, and then she was snarling down at Loudstorm, who was trying to laugh but was too winded to do so properly.

               “Good job,” he wheezed. “Passed your first test.” A test? Blackear, Bluebird, and Mintstar had stopped, approval written across their faces as she glanced over at them. I… guess that makes sense. Still, she couldn’t help but tease as she stepped off her friend.

               “Whatever Rosestar says, your mother gave you a good name.” She said. “I could hear you coming a mile away.” Loudstorm hissed in mock offense, bapping her repeatedly on the head before she ducked away, laughing. They continued on, the two young warriors trying to shake the mud out of their fur, and soon they came to the now fading familiarity of the log nest that made up Shadowclan’s camp. Beetlewhisker was waiting outside, calling a cheery greeting as they walked up, and seeming very pleased with the muddy streaks in her brother’s fur.

               “I knew you’d get him,” she praised, and Turtledove couldn’t help but puff up a bit. Together they pushed their way into camp, where the calico was immediately swarmed by kittens.

               “Turtle’s back! Turtle’s back!” They cried, and Turtledove couldn’t help but collapse with an oof under the combined weight of Mumblekit, Scratchkit, and Beekit. They were about five moons old now, and getting very big, which meant they were almost as big as she was, regrettably. Their three siblings, as well as Lichenkit, Graykit, and Newtkit, pranced around her, speaking over each other and generally being loud. Ears twitching, she pushed as gently as she could, trying to struggle through the fur and wiggly bodies to stand again, and was mercifully saved by the appearance of Tulipstem.

               “Come on, kits, she can’t say hello to you if you smother her.” Crazy as they were, they were at least obedient, and they quickly clambered off her, Scratchkit using the tender gap between her ribs as a launching point. Wincing, she finally stood up, blinking gratefully at the queen. “It is good to see you, Turtle. Even if the circumstances are… less than ideal.”

               “You too, Tulip. Uh, I mean, it’s good to see you, not that you’re less than ideal.” Tulipstem smiled, whiskers twitching in amusement, and waved her tail.

               “Of course. I’m sure Rosestar would like to greet you, but then you can come and find me and Shade when you’re ready to start.” I wonder what exactly this will entail. Probably lots of verbal instruction, but if her first test was anything to go by, there would be some practical skills to go over as well. Turtledove bid goodbye to the disappointed kittens and trotted off after Mintstar, who now sat with Rosestar and Marshfoot.

               “Good morning, young warrior,” Rosestar purred, seeming to be in a cheery mood. Probably happy something is getting done. I’m sure he hasn’t been pleased with the lack of progress. It had been a bit of a culture shock, going from Thunderclan, with the emphasis on respect and the Code and being a model warrior, to Shadowclan, who were undeniably dedicated to the Code, just… in a more relaxed way. Senior warriors joked with young warriors, apprentices snarked with elders, and kittens were lovingly entertained by everybody. Turtledove loved her family and her Clan, but she couldn’t deny it was nice to not have to worry about saying the wrong thing to a senior warrior and getting cuffed for it. Like right now- she wouldn’t have been caught dead in front of Stonestar or a senior warrior with a muddy pelt. But now, she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

               “Good morning, Rosestar, thank you for hosting us.” That being said, she knew how to be polite. “And good morning to you too, Marshfoot. I’m glad to see the kittens look well.” The deputy bragged about her nieces and nephew like they were her own- Loudstorm said that if the molly ever had kittens, she’d probably be insufferable.

               “Of course, you’re doing all of us a favor.” The pointed tom hummed. “Now, you know the basics, but here’s the rest. Tulipstem and Shadefur will instruct you in the customs of the Town, as well as how to fight like a rogue and how to navigate. You will be responsible for coming up with your own cover story based on what you learn, and with their help- it’ll be easier for you to remember than if we just came up with something for you, as well as be much more organic and thus more believable. Make sense?” She nodded. “Good. The goal is to have you in the Town before the half-moon, which gives us about ten days to prepare.  If you work it out before, great. We’ll send you in earlier. Time is of the essence, after all.” Notice how he didn’t say anything about if it takes me longer than ten days. Rosestar looked at Mintstar. “While we have nothing specific, activity in the Town is picking up. If Featherfall is planning something new, she’ll be making a move soon. We will be increasing patrols and Fernfire is being assigned a personal guard again.”

               “I’m afraid you’re right.” Mintstar said. “We will be keeping our guard up as well. I would also like to reiterate that Thunderclan is an ally to all the Clans right now. Please feel free to send a runner should anything come up.” Not that this wasn’t important, but Turtledove was getting bored. If she had ten days or less to turn herself into a convincing loner, then she needed to get started as soon as possible. She shifted restlessly, accidentally brushing up against Mintstar, who cast her an amused glance. “Alright, then. I will leave Turtledove in your capable paws. Turtle.” The calico focused on the blip of brown right above Mintstar’s nose. “I am very proud of you, and I am confident in your success. Remember, even when you’re in the Town, you can always rely on your Clan.” With that, the brown and white molly bid her goodbyes, trotting back out of the camp and out of sight. Rosestar dismissed Turtledove to her new mentors, who were sitting together outside the nursery, looking over to her expectantly. She quickly padded over to them, whiskers starting to tremble in anticipation. This is it. It’s really happening.

               “Alright,” Shadefur said, “We’re getting right into it, so don’t worry about your coat. The first thing we’re going to do…”

               When she collapsed into her new nest that night, Turtledove’s head was spinning and her paws were aching but stars, if she wasn’t thrilled. They had taken her out to spar, to see how to tweak her fighting style away from the rigid Clan forms to the more slapdash style of a loner. Thankfully, because of her size, she had learned a slightly unorthodox Thunderclan style, one that wouldn’t stick out too much to a Town cat. It relied more on being quick and clever rather than Thunderclan’s typical ‘beat it until it can’t move’ style. Shadefur had merely told her to fight dirtier, as Town cats didn’t have the same code of honor when it came to a fight, but that the moves she knew would be perfect. They had then taken her to the Dump and begun an introductory course on edible human garbage, something she had very much disliked and was not looking forward to continuing with. Thankfully, with the spring it wasn’t as likely that she’d have to resort to digging through trash for food, but apparently you never knew. Plus, it was just another thing a loner would know, so she would need to know. Finally, they had brought her back to camp, and Tulipstem had begun teaching her all the vocabulary she would need, like how they weren’t twolegs, they were humans, and it wasn’t kittypets or crow food or gangs, but house cats and roadkill and colonies. The Riverclanner had apparently shown up when she was out at the Dump, but now was sprawled out in a nest near hers, already asleep. I wonder what he’ll have to learn, she mused sleepily, snorting as Beetlewhisker shoved a paw into her side and Loudstorm decided to use her hip as a headrest for his big heavy head. Her earlier nerves had dissipated, more confident now that she had gotten a taste of what she would learn and realized she could handle it.

               Maybe I won’t mess this up after all.

First|Previous|Next

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PYROPHYTE: PROLOGUE

PLOTTING

When Turtlepaw promised to do whatever she could to help bring the last murderer to justice, this was not what she had in mind. Can the newly named warrior survive on her own in the Town? Even more pressing, can she survive cooperating with the only cat willing to help her? Gorsestorm really didn't expect things to go this far. A new apprentice, a new cat in the Clan, and a new pressure to "settle down" are more than enough to keep him busy, but now Shalestar also wants him heading the group dedicated to hunting down their worst enemy. Great. Littlesong doesn't feel like he's qualified to do this, but apparently he's the best they've got. Which, honestly, isn't exactly the vote of confidence he was looking for. Either way, he's stuck playing kittypet until this all gets figured out. At least he gets to see Piketail more often. Emberpaw isn't really supposed to be a part of this, but she's the only one who can see the ghosts AND speak to them. That's got to count for something, right? Right? After the deadly winter comes a tense spring, their enemy poised to strike and the Clans desperate to stop her before she does. Can they handle the coming fire? *SEQUEL TO OVERGROWTH*

               It was a quiet night in the Town, but by no means still. Dozens of cats slunk through alley ways and side streets, eyes illuminated only by the yellowed light of the streetlamps. The many puddles dotting the streets offered watery reflections of their surroundings, occasionally disturbed by the dripping snowmelt that seemed to roll off every available surface. It was late enough that very few twolegs were about, allowing the Town residents to hunt or sneak or just live in peace, if only for a little while.

               In one neglected alleyway, unused and ignored by most, a gang was gathered.

               Three cats sat on a perilous stack of rotting crates, watching impassively the fight below them. Two young cats sparred in the slush, coats damp and eyes bright, trying to listen to the instructions being shouted at them by a scowling tom. In the next moment, one of the fighters took advantage of his opponent’s distraction, lashing out with a twisted paw to trip her. The molly stumbled, unable to recover in enough time to fend off the tom’s next attack, and she went sprawling into a particularly icy pile of muck. The scowling tom was snarling now, berating the molly as she struggled to right herself, paws sliding through the slush. Atop the crate, a tabby tom snorted.

               “Well, Twist seems to be coming along decently. Lilac, however…”

               The grizzled tom beside him glared, but was silent. The molly between them let out a considering hum.

               “Twist didn’t just go a through a difficult birth. But yes, Lilac could use some… extra instruction. See to it that she gets it, Whistler. And tell Bear that if I ever hear him speak to his mate like that again, I’ll take his tongue.” The older tom murmured an affirmative, the dark gray molly then dismissing him with a flick of her tail. He dropped down from the crate with a thud, collecting the other three cats before disappearing into the night. For a moment it was quiet, only the occasional drip or splash echoing softly through the alley. The tabby tom shifted.

               “If I may speak.” A nod. “Even if every cat we have is a master in fighting, we still don’t have nearly enough fighters to challenge the clans again. It’s spring now, or near enough. No one is hungry enough to join up again, especially after that battle.” The molly gave him a dismissive flick.

               “I told you, Rocky, you don’t need to worry. Right now, it’s not about the quantity of cats we have, but the quality.” Rocky looked confused, but said nothing. “This time, we won’t need to do battle with the clans. My mate had the wrong approach with that tactic, and it cost him his life. I will not be so foolish.” Featherfall blinked, light green eyes catching the glow of a flickering streetlamp. “This time, I’ll burn that whole forest down, right beneath their noses. And the only thing the Clans will be able to do is watch.” Rocky simply nodded, and soon the two went their separate ways, disappearing into the gloom. Featherfall strode right past the ghostly outline of a cat, tucked into the shadows of the crate, unnoticed by all but her fellows in death. As the molly turned the corner, the shade sighed. Carefully, she stepped further out into the alleyway, followed closely by two little shadows.

               “Who’s that, mama?” One of them asked, a small white kit, his snowy fur nearly transparent. Dolly let out another sigh.

               “Bad news, darlin’.” The scraggly calico murmured, staring out after where the molly had disappeared. “Those clan cats’re in for it, an’ that’s fer certain.” The other kit, a calico like her mother, looked worried.

               “Can’t we do somethin’ to help them? You were friends with those cats, weren’t you?” Dolly nodded, slowly leading her little ghosts away from the abandoned alley.

               “That I was. If’n I could go to ‘em now, I would, but only Clan ghosts can go ta Clan territory. Just bein’ the way these thin’s work.” The calico only slightly regretted not taking Shade up on his offer to join them. She had gotten sick and had no one to care for her, which had ultimately led to her death a moon or so ago. But maybe she wouldn’t have been with her babies, then, which was an outcome more devastating than dying alone. That being said, the clan cats had always been kind to her. She’d like to be able to return that kindness now. “Well now babies,” she said, tone taking on a conspiratorial lilt. “We’ll just have to see if those forest cats got themselves a spirit seer. Did I ever get a chance to tell y’all about those kinds of cats?” The kittens excitedly trailed after their mother, listening to her tale of cats who could see and speak to ghosts like them.

               If those clan cats are star blessed like they say, then maybe, just maybe, they’ll have a chance.

.

.

.

               Across the territory, a young calico struggled to fall asleep, still unused to her new nest in her new den. A wiry golden tom sat crouched in the dark of the moor, frustrated at his inability to speak to one of his oldest friends. A bright yellow Riverclanner slept easily, sprawled on his back near his sister and friends. And finally, in the pines, one young tortoiseshell was awake, searching eagerly for the first spring blooms. A spirit trailed behind her, keeping carefully out of her sight, itching with just as much anticipation.

               The time was coming. The spirit could only pray they were ready- their future, as well as her own eternity, depended on it. Ancestors guide them well-

               They’ll need all the help they can get.

Next

[overgrowth-wc]

[overgrowth-wc]

Our four intrepid heroes have done their part, but there's still a few loose ends. Now, it's time for some familiar faces to pick up where they left off. 

THUNDERCLAN: round two, start

              Turtlepaw could not ever remember a time she had been this tired. Her paws hurt. Her eyes hurt. Hell, her whiskers hurt. Slumped besides her brothers, Rainpaw snoring softly, Owlpaw sprawled next to her, the morning sun warming her fur, she felt like she’d never move again.

              “Turtle,” Owlpaw whined, flopping onto his back, “do you think we’ll get a retirement ceremony instead of a warrior’s ceremony? I feel old Adderstripe has more moxie than me.” At least I’m not suffering alone.

              “Maybe we can have our retirement ceremony the same time as dad’s,” she mused, then flinched. Great, Turtlepaw, way to be insensitive. Owlpaw was impossible to offend, though, so he just hummed thoughtfully.

              “That’d be neat. Maybe Mintfrost will change our names to something cool too. Isn’t Dad thinking about changing his?” Badgerstripe’s injuries were bad enough to warrant a name change, and for someone like their dad, that was a mark of honor.

              “Yeah, you know how he is. He thinks that kind of stuff is really cool.” It’d have to be something like Tornpelt or Raggedfur, which Turtlepaw didn’t find appealing at all, but it wasn’t her name, so she didn’t have much say in it. Aspenwing wasn’t thrilled either, but she usually seemed unimpressed by her mate’s antics, so that wasn’t surprising to anyone. I wonder how Mintfrost is doing. Or is she Mintstar now? Probably, they’ve been gone for a while… Turtlepaw’s mind wandered as she slowly started to drift off, only to be disturbed by a rustling at the entrance. Snowdrift emerged into the clearing, looking asleep on his paws, and behind him came her mentor, stoic as usual. That was no indication of how she might really feel, though, so Turtlepaw shot to her feet, bounding over to her new leader with renewed energy.

              “Are you alright?” She blurted, trying to assess if she’d pushed herself too hard. “How’s your hip? Do you need me to get some snow? Fernfire showed me how, you know, it’s pretty clever.” Mintfrost- Mintstar?- waited patiently until Turtlepaw finished, giving her an affectionate blink.

              “I’m fine for the moment, but maybe later we could get some snow together. I need to make an announcement, now, but we’ll talk more after. Do you know if everyone is back in camp? Has there been any runners yet?”               “No runners, everyone’s probably still bone tired,” Turtlepaw said quickly, walking beside her mentor as she started making her way to the Meeting Stump. “And everyone should be back by now, but I think most cats are asleep- do you want me to wake them up?” The little calico was still holding out hope for a growth spurt, irritated by the fact that she had to take two steps for everyone one her mentor took, especially the way her paws were aching right now. They arrived at the Stump, Turtlepaw looking around the camp, trying to plan who she would go wake up first.

              “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call whoever is awake, but I’m just letting everyone know I’ve returned and that I’ve successfully received my lives and name. I won’t be announcing my chosen deputy until later. And, well, telling the story of the past few moons.” Turtlepaw blinked.

              “Who’d you pick?” Mintstar hummed, shooting her a mischievous grin.

              “Oh? Do you get to know before everyone else?”

              “Well, not everyone else,” the apprentice muttered, gaze on her feet before focusing on Mintstar’s nose. “Just, you know, I figured being the leader’s apprentice entitled me to some… insider knowledge.”

              “Ah, I suppose it does. Well, you can keep a secret- I will be asking Whitefoot upon her return to camp later today to accept the position.” Turtlepaw nodded happily. Whitefoot is kind, and smart, and her and Mintstar are really good friends. That will work well.

              “Good idea! I really like Whitefoot.” Mintstar laughed, Snowdrift giving the apprentice a tired grin.

              “I’m glad you approve. Now, let’s get this over with- I want to talk to you about hunting more here in a little bit. You’re a huge help to us right now, Turtlepaw. Thunderclan is lucky to have you.” The calico couldn’t help the way she puffed up in pride at the compliment. Yeah, she was bone tired, but she wanted to help, and if Mintstar needed her to hunt to feed her friends and family, then, well, she’d hunt until her paws fell off. Hopefully not literally.

              True to her word, Mintstar only gave a brief announcement. The clan was relieved to hear of her acceptance by the ancestors and reception of her nine lives, and took the news that the deputy was yet to be announced with minimal grumbling and disappointment. And everyone was still much too tired to discuss… current events. Turtlepaw couldn’t help but notice that Snowdrift looked distracted and a little upset, however. When Mintstar slid down from the Stump, the apprentice hurried back over to them.

              “You okay, Snowdrift?” She pressed, eyes flicking from his nose to his ears to his feet and back to his nose, feeling uncomfortable and antsy for some reason. Something feels wrong. The medicine cat sighed, giving Mintstar an unreadable look. At the leader’s nod, he returned his tired gaze to Turtlepaw.

              “I received word from the ancestor’s at the Moonstone… Poppypaw has yet to be seen in Starclan. The other cat’s spirits have found their way home, but she- she hasn’t.” Turtlepaw felt distinctly ill. Oh no, oh no no no. So Stonestar was right? Poppypaw hadn’t been put to rest because Featherfall hadn’t been put on trial, and now, they couldn’t find Featherfall anywhere-

              “We need to find her,” Turtlepaw stressed, “I mean, we need to find Featherfall, we can’t- that’s not-” Mintstar pressed her nose to the tip of the apprentice’s ear, halting her desperate ramble. Poppypaw was my age when she died. I don’t know what I’d do if I were a ghost, especially a ghost forever.

              “We’re going to work on a plan for finding Featherfall as soon as possible, but it will be a massive undertaking. Would you like to help us?” Turtlepaw nodded jerkily.

              “It’s not right. I- I didn’t know Poppypaw, you know, but I don’t want that for any cat.” That being eternal wandering. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.” Both Mintstar and Snowdrift let out rumbling purrs.

              “I’ll hold you to it.” Mintstar mewed. Just then, there was another rustle at the camp entrance, and a Windclanner slipped into the clearing, holding a bundle of herbs in her mouth. As Mintstar and Snowdrift went to greet her, Turtlepaw stared after them, mind spinning. I promise you Poppypaw-

                We’ll get you home.

WINDCLAN: those left behind

              Gorsestorm was- well, not in a great mood, but much better off than he had been the past two weeks or so. Things were slowly returning back to normal after the battle, most of the warriors healed and even Daisypetal back home, on the mend. She’d gotten an eye clawed terribly in the battle- thankfully, she hadn’t lost it, but Teaselpaw doubted she’d ever get her vision back.  She was in good cheer despite it. Hell, everyone was. The clan morale was higher than it had been in moons, happy to know that justice had finally been secured and their ghosts put to rest.

              They were mostly correct.

              It seems that Poppypaw, little Poppypaw, his friend, the cat he thought he would one day guide his clan alongside, was still lost to the ancestors. Teaselpaw had returned from the halfmoon last night with the devastating news- Shalestar elected to keep it quiet until they could meet with the others and determine a course of action. It seemed like it would take finding Featherfall to rectify the situation, which was seriously bothering him, because how the hell were they supposed to find her? Yeah, he’d volunteered to help search the Town, back when they first were talking about bringing the murderers to justice, but he hadn’t actually believed they would need to. He’d banked on Featherfall’s arrogance and need to see things through driving the queen to being there at the final confrontation, but maybe he had underestimated her cunning. A good leader always has a backup plan for a backup plan, his father had told him once, and while Featherfall might not be a good cat, he couldn’t deny that she knew how to lead. It seems she had kept many things from him when he thought he was in her confidences. Of course she wouldn’t have trusted me, Gorsestorm thought bitterly, she wouldn’t have gotten so far with her plans if she took such foolish risks. Featherfall must have had multiple groups of rogues at her beck and call to get away with what she did.

              There was one thing Gorsestorm was certain of though. Featherfall wasn’t done with the clans yet. It had almost scared him, the single-minded focus the queen had on eradicating the medicine cats. He feared for the clans as a whole, now- if she’d had such a strong drive for revenge against a whole class of cats for losing her leg, how terrible would be her retribution be against those who killed her mate? Whatever it was, they needed to be careful. It seems we might not have our peace just yet.

              How bothersome.

              Gorsestorm sighed. He was sitting in front of Falconstar and Poppypaw’s graves. The mint that had been growing at his father’s grave was gone now, shriveled away, but a few tendrils still clung stubbornly to Poppypaw’s. A part of him wanted to claw it away, thought maybe that would set her spirit free, but, well, he’d tried that a few days ago. And now, the plant was back, it’s sharp scent and bright green leaves almost mocking. He let out another heavy sigh, this one more frustrated. There was a slight crunch in the snow behind him, and he felt a warm presence.

              “I’m alright, Teaselpaw. You should spend your time worrying about more important things than babysitting me.” Silence. “I mean it, shouldn’t you-” Gorsestorm turned to look at his former apprentice, halting mid word when he saw nobody there. His brow furrowed. Odd. Maybe I just imagined it. He let out a mighty yawn. I am exhausted. Stretching, he turned to amble his way back home. It was about evening, the sky a wonderful array of colors. He managed to snatch a rabbit on the way back, proud of the unexpected catch. It would be good for Littlestream and her kits to get more than the bare minimum to eat- plus, it would give him a chance to see Nightkit. He hoped that Shalestar would apprentice the little tom to him when he was old enough. Quiet as he was, Gorsestorm could already see the beginnings of a sharp mind in the kit, and was confident he could help build that up. Mom always did say one of the only things I had going for me was my brain. He snorted. He could picture her now- whiskers twitching, eyes fond. Well, you certainly can’t count on your personality, my little burr.

              Upon reentering camp, he was greeted by Teaselpaw and Dipperwing, the two working their way around the edges of camp, the medicine cat a few steps away from the warrior to allow him the chance to navigate on his own. Dipperwing’s confidence had taken a blow after the battle. Gorsestorm couldn’t blame him- it’d been frightening enough, that terrible night, being able to see and defend himself. Not sure if I could’ve handled the situation like he did, given the opportunity. Teaselpaw had an endless well of patience and was happy to help the tom recover some security, thank the stars, and they now spent a considerable amount of time each day reacclimating Dipperwing to moving around on his own. Gorsestorm padded over to greet them, mildly surprised when Dipperwing nearly cracked his neck whipping around to face him, muscles taut.

              “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he mewed around the rabbit in his mouth. The other tom stood still for a moment, brow furrowed in confusion, before giving a small shake of his head.

              “No, don’t worry, you didn’t, I just- thought I smelled something strange, is all.” It was a little hard to tell what Dipperwing was thinking, these days. His eyes had always reflected his emotions like a puddle reflected the sky. Now, it looked like he had his eyes always closed, only the slightly sunken eyelids and thin scars across his face hinting at anything amiss. Gorsestorm paused for a minute, confused, but decided he didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

              “Alright then, I’m off to the nursery to drop this off. Have fun, you two.” Dipperwing nodded, flicking an ear at Teaselpaw.

              “I… actually think I’m going to go lay down for a minute, Teasel. I’m not feeling great all of a sudden.” The medicine cat looked concerned but let him go, coming over to stand with her former mentor.

              “Guess I’ll accompany you to the nursery, then. Not much else to do.” Gorsestorm rolled his eyes, about to make a comment about second choices and priorities, when he noticed Teaselpaw’s expression. The molly was suddenly frozen, eyes fixed on something to the left of him. He glanced over to see what could have garnered such a reaction, but there was nothing there. He pinned her with an unimpressed look.

              “What? What are you looking at?” Teaselpaw’s wide eyes snapped to him, then back to the spot.

              “You mean you can’t see her?”

              “See who?”

              “Poppypaw. She’s right there.”

RIVERCLAN: wander back home

              “Then by the powers given to me, I give you your warrior name. Littlepaw, from this moment on, you will be known as Littlesong. Starclan honors your kind heart and intelligence, and we welcome you as a full warrior of Riverclan.” His clanmates cheered his name, Goldenthorn sitting tall besides him, and Littlesong couldn’t help the way he swelled with pride as his new name echoed around the camp.

              “Littlesong! Littlesong! Littlesong! Hey, come on now, wake up!”

              The golden tabby started awake, blinking blearily up at an unimpressed Goldenthorn.

              “Up you get, lazy bones,” she mewed, tone absent of her usual bite. “Don’t you have one last practice before tonight?” Ah crap, Littlesong thought as he scrambled to his feet. Is it already that late? Golden light was peeking through the woven reeds of the warrior’s den, signaling that it was in fact closer to evening than afternoon. So much for a quick nap. He thanked his sister hastily before hurrying out of the den, loping out of camp and towards the practice clearing without even bothering to fix his pelt.

              Technically, the night of the battle had been the Long Night Gathering. It was typically a celebratory Gathering, marking the middle of the winter season and the turning point towards spring. Apprentices usually competed in various activities for the entertainment of the clans, from spars to memory games to silly things like who had the longest tail, or the pinkest nose. It was a fun night, as many warriors as possible usually in attendance, but the biggest event was the performance Riverclan would put on at moonhigh. The specific story changed each year, but typically revolved around the different myths and legends each clan told. This year, they would be telling an old Riverclan legend about a queen whose kittens were turned into river stones by a water spirit, and the different trials she had to overcome to change them back. Littlesong had a minor role, playing a wood sprite who guided the queen to some herbs she needed through a series of riddles. It was all good fun though, and he had worked hard to memorize the tricky tongue twisters the sprite used to try and befuddle the queen. Larkwing would be playing the main role, Ripplepaw the water spirit, with Berrybush, Hollyclaw, and Stormfang playing the other challenge givers. The elders would be playing the three kittens, a comical work around to the fact Riverclan had no young apprentices now to play the roles. The troupe was meeting one last time to practice before tonight, and Littlesong was officially running late.

              His sheepish apologies were dismissed in good humor, most warriors too excited about the newfound peace and the celebrations tonight to let something so small annoy them. They passed the evening together pleasantly, Littlesong successfully performing his lines without a hitch, and trooped back to camp for a bite to eat before they needed to head out, laughing with each other as they went. The golden warrior sobered as they made it to the camp entrance, bidding goodbye to the others so he could go find Piketail, a weight in his gut that he tried to ignore. Tonight will most likely be the last time we eat together- at least, the last time for a long time.

              Piketail was joining Shadowclan tonight.

              It had been decided a couple weeks ago, after things had really settled following the battle. Piketail had gone to Oakstar, explaining his heritage and desire to join his father’s clan, as well as relaying that Rosestar had agreed to allow the transfer, provided Oakstar had no problem with it. The old tom had thought it over for a nerve-wracking day, Piketail spending most of it a ball of nerves. Littlesong had finally insisted on taking his old mentor out hunting, declaring that all that anxious energy should be put to good use. Together they had managed a decent haul, and upon their return to camp that evening Oakstar had given Piketail his reluctant permission. It pains me that we couldn’t make a good home for you here, but I understand your desire. I hope you are blessed with much happiness with your family. Littlesong was… mostly okay with it. He was happy for Piketail, he really was, but he also couldn’t deny that he would be devastated to see his mentor go. I just have to trust in his promise. And besides, it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. Anyway, Piketail was still here now, and he would enjoy what time they had left together.

              His old mentor was sitting outside the medicine den with Squirrelnose, seeming to have just finished talking to the ginger tom when Littlesong padded up. He was glad to see that the two of them were at least civil now. It had been awkward when his and his sister’s mentors couldn’t even be around each other for more than ten minutes at a time.

              “Hey Piketail, want to grab something to eat? Ripplepaw said she caught a carp earlier.” Piketail nodded, bidding a polite goodbye to the ginger tom before padding off with Littlesong. They found the carp in question, settling down together near the medicine den. They could hear Ripplepaw’s excited chatter and Splashpaw’s quips and comments, the siblings’ conversation a pleasant backdrop to the meal. The two warriors ate in a comfortable silence, Piketail letting out a sigh as they finished. “How are you feeling about tonight?" Littlesong asked.

              “Nervous, and very happy, and very sad.” Piketail replied quietly, looking down at his paws. “I’m excited to, well, start over, and grateful to get to know my family, but… I’ll miss this place. I may not have the fondest memories for most of it, but Riverclan has been my home for most of my life. Nothing will ever change that.” Littlesong nodded, ears drooping.

              “Well, you can always come back,” he mewed, and it was only slightly a joke. Piketail smiled, eye creasing in genuine mirth.

              “Thank the stars for that. We’ll see if I can survive with the bog rats, hm? I have to tell you now though, if I ever start saying that I enjoy eating frogs, you need to drag me back here.” Littlesong laughed a bit, trying to force away the sadness that was already welling up. Piketail noticed, because of course he did, and leaned over to give Littlesong a supportive nudge.

              “Remember what I told you. And besides, I have a feeling that you’ll still be seeing more of me than you would probably like.”

              Stars, I hope so.

SHADOWCLAN: the spark

              “Come on dad, please?” Emberkit begged, pinning her ears back and opening her eyes super wide in a pleading look. Usually it worked, Rosestar letting out a huff before reluctantly acquiescing, but now he just refused to look at her. Cheater.

              “No. You’re only five moons old-“

              “Five and a half, and, and, that’s just a guess, we could be six moons old-“ Sparkkit piped up, but their father kept going.

              “And there are rules. In the Code. That specifically bar this sort of thing from happening, and I’m not risking my eternal reward just because you three want me to bend things to your advantage. Sorry, froglets, but there’s always next year.” Emberkit and her brothers were desperately trying to convince their father to make them apprentices so they could attend the Long Night Gathering. It was evening now, the stars just starting to twinkle, and they were growing desperate. Days they had been pestering him with no success, and now, in the final hour, it seemed they would fail. “Besides, your mother would claw my ears off.”

              “But you’re the leader!” Sunkit said, a similar pathetic look on his face. “Isn’t the leader’s word law? That’s what the Code says!” Rosestar shot him an unimpressed look.

              “My word is law for Shadowclan, yes, but your mother’s word is law for me. And if my word is law, why do you keep pestering me about it? Again, I’m sorry kittens, but it’s not allowed. There’s always the Midsummer Gathering- you’ll all be apprentices then.” Crushing disappointment. Emberkit didn’t stomp her foot, because that would just prove his point about them being too young, but she couldn’t help the frustrated tears that welled up. Who cared about the Midsummer Gathering? That was moons away! The Long Gathering was tonight!

              “You’re asking the wrong questions, kits.” Came a voice, and hope welled up in Emberkit’s chest. The little tortoiseshell turned her pleading gaze to Auntie Briar, who always knew what to do. Crowcall, or was it Uncle Crowcall now? Was standing beside her, the two wearing matching grins. Rosestar eyed them warily.

              “They are, are they?” He asked, and there was a warning in his tone that Briarmask gleefully ignored.

              “What you should be asking is if you can just go to the Gathering as you are. The only rule about kittens outside of camp is that they have to be accompanied, correct? And if you had cats willing to chaperone you…” She trailed off, and now all three kits whipped around, hopeful eyes pinning Rosestar in place.

              “I should put you on tick duty,” he grumbled, but he seemed to be crumbling under the weight of their expectant gazes. A heavy, familiar, conceding sigh. “Ask your mother. If she’s ok with it, and if Briarmask and Crowcall promise to be your chaperones for the whole night, then you can go.” Emberkit leapt to her feet with a triumphant yowl, taking off towards the nursery where Pinenose was. Sparkkit and Sunkit stayed behind, Sunkit dancing around their aunt’s paws and Sparkkit tugging on Rosestar’s ears, but Emberkit was on a mission.

              A few minutes and minimal pleading later, Pinenose had agreed to the conditions Rosestar set forth, and the three kittens deigned to let her groom them until their coats were neat and gleaming. The siblings sat sandwiched between Briarmask and Crowcall, waiting for their father to say it was time to leave. Their nursery friends were only a little disappointed they weren’t allowed to go, but honestly, the six of them were still afraid of going outside the camp, so this was better anyway. And Brooksong’s babies had only just opened their eyes, so they didn’t count. After an eternity Rosestar appeared, stopping before his children to fix them with a firm look.

              “You do exactly what your Auntie tells you or your apprentice ceremonies will be delayed. Deal?” They nodded excitedly, used to his empty threats, and he let out a huff before calling for the departure. Now, Emberkit couldn’t lie- she was exhausted by the time they made it to the hollow. But actually seeing the Four Oaks and all the other cats washed that all away in an instant, and she barely could restrain herself from leaping forward and diving into the crowd of cats.

              “Alright kittens,” Briarmask announced, “this is what we’re going to do. There’re a couple different events that will start soon, but before then, there’s some cats I need to talk to. You can either come with me or wait here with Crowcall. What do you say?” Emberkit elected to go with Briar, but her brothers decided to stay with Crowcall, wanting to make sure they got good spots to see the spars. Emberkit was much more interested in meeting other warriors, especially the ones her aunt was friends with. They had saved the territories after all. Much cooler than watching some apprentices tumble around. The group her aunt led her to was made up of an assortment of warriors, all of whom seemed noble and majestic and awesome- she must have look star struck, as Briarmask took one look at her and snorted.

              “You think they’re impressive now, but wait until they open their mouths.” She murmured. They arrived at the group then, a fluffy white tom and a scarred gray warrior shuffling apart so Emberkit and Briarmask could sit with them. “Alright, you lot, this is my niece, Emberkit. Rosestar made an exception that she and her littermates could come tonight since they’re so close to their apprentice ceremonies and, well, he’s an indulgent father.” They went around introducing themselves- Snowdrift, Turtlepaw, Piketail, Teaselpaw, Gorsestorm… the tortoiseshell next to the Windclanner’s didn’t introduce herself, which Emberkit thought was weird and maybe even a little rude, but nobody else said anything so she stayed quiet too. I don’t want them to think I’m a nosy kit! And the tortoiseshell winked then, giving her a smile, so maybe she wasn’t too bad. Maybe she’s like Spiderpaw. “Emberkit, Piketail is actually the one joining our clan tonight. He’s Marshfoot and Frogthroat’s brother, remember?”

              “Wow! So you’re the babies’ uncle?” Emberkit chirped, looking up at him more closely. “Well, I guess you look like Graykit at least.” The tom froze, Briarmask rolling her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

              “… Graykit?” Piketail mewed hesitantly, single eye darting to her aunt.

              “Frogthroat was going to ask your permission, but they’re a moon old now and need to be called something. Sorry for the abrupt reveal.”

              “Oh, sorry, are their names a surprise?” Emberkit whispered, ears drooping, but Piketail looked back at her kindly.

              “Ah, no worries guppy. I’m happy to know. What are the other two named?” Emberkit was all too happy to tell him about Newtkit and Fernkit as well, and how she and Beekit were happy to have other mollies in the den, because oh boy their brothers could be so annoying…

              The leader’s called for attention a short time later, Emberkit happy enough talking to Piketail as the other’s chatted around her, and the Gathering commenced. Emberkit cheered loudly for Spiderpaw when he won his spar, booed when a Thunderclan apprentice won longest tail against Loudpaw, and laughed at a joke contest between warriors from each clan. Crowcall won, a proud Sunkit and Sparkkit trailing after him, Briarmask rolling her eyes. He’ll be insufferable now! As the night wore on, Emberkit found herself yawning, slumped beside her aunt as she spoke quietly to her friends. She almost fell asleep when she felt someone sit down beside her, and looked up to see the tortoiseshell from earlier.

              “Oh, hello,” she yawned again. “I didn’t get your name earlier. My name is Emberkit.” The molly smiled down at her.

              “My name is Poppypaw,” she said kindly, and Emberkit gave her a friendly nod. Have I heard that name before? “I need to ask you something, Emberkit.”

              “Uh, sure. Can I help you with something?”

              “Yes, or rather, you will. When spring comes, and the first flowers bloom, look for me in the pines. Can you do that?” Emberkit narrowed her eyes.

              “How are you gonna be in the pines if you’re not from Shadowclan? We’re not supposed to be on other cat’s territory.” Poppypaw laughed.

              “Right you are, but I’m a medicine cat, and we can travel when we need to. So, do you promise?” Well, Emberkit didn’t know if the molly was telling the truth or not, since she didn’t remember Fernfire or anyone mention her, but it seemed harmless enough. She could always ask her parents or her aunt about it later.

              “Alright, I promise.” Another yawn, and she was so sleepy now…

              “Thank you, little ember. I have one piece of advice for you before I go. Can you stay awake to hear it? It’s important.” Medicine cats deserve your respect, so do what they ask you, ok? Her mother’s voice rang in her head, so Emberkit forced herself to sit up, blinking sleepily up at her fellow tortoiseshell. “There will be times ahead, very difficult times, and you might feel defeated and want to give up. When that happens, remember this- some things need fire to grow. You will endure any flames that seek to consume you, and come out stronger for it. Never forget that.” What? Now Emberkit was confused and a little alarmed, but she blinked and all of a sudden Poppypaw was just… gone. Am I dreaming? She tried to look around for the medicine cat but then Briarmask was nudging at her, telling her it was time to go home, so she obediently trailed after her, mind spinning. Difficult times? Consuming flames? Did Poppypaw mean that literally?

              How can any cat survive burning up?

First / Prev

[overgrowth-wc]

The sun sets on the night of the Gathering Trial, and our heroes converge to finally bring the murderers to justice. The only question is, will their efforts be enough? 

              Snowdrift had to admit, Rosestar might be a lot more of a goof than he initially figured a Shadowclan leader would be, but stars if he couldn’t inspire greatness in others. The speech he gave had even made Snowdrift straighten up, made him hunger for justice just as much as any warrior. That feeling pushed him forward now, helped him keep pace with Cloudclaw as they all made their way to Fourtrees. He was clustered with his fellow Thunderclanners near the front of the group- Mintfrost was loping along on his other side, face blank and seemingly unbothered by her injuries as she went. Snowdrift could only pray she would make it all the way to their camp without issue. He didn’t need a warning from the ancestors to know it would be a long, dangerous trip.

              No one dared to speak as they went, the only sounds the light crunch of many pawsteps on ice and snow. It felt like time was stretching out, that they had been travelling for years but also only moments when they came to a cluster of bushes near the road  and Rosestar finally called for a halt. The pointed tom craned his neck, searching for someone in the crowd, before spotting the Thunderclanners and trotting over to them.

              “I have neither the time nor the wherewithal to bother with crossing the road right now,” he said brusquely, “so I’m going to make you a little deal, Mintfrost. You promise not to ever use what I’m about to show you against us in the future, and I promise not to use what I now know about your territory against you. Sound good?” Snowdrift felt… mildly uncomfortable at the reminder that, while they personally were allied with Shadowclan now, it might not always be that way in the future. But Mintfrost merely nodded, and Rosestar seemed satisfied. He then returned to his position at the front, leading the way into the bushes and… disappearing? Snowdrift was slightly alarmed, but dutifully followed after Mintfrost and the others as they surged forward, finding that there was a tunnel hidden behind the bushes. There was icy water in the bottom, and it was long enough that the light faded into a barely there gloom. He was grateful for the footsteps before him and crush of bodies behind him to guide the way, as there seemed to be other openings and turns that yawned in the darkness of the tunnel walls. Eventually, murky light once again appeared before them, and they emerged on the other side of the road, on the border of Thunderclan territory by Fourtrees. So this is how they travel the territories. Snowdrift had always just assumed Shadowclanners crossed the road when they left their lands, but it seemed they had found a much safer, and much more discreet, method of travel. Makes sense that Rosestar doesn’t want this to be public knowledge.

              The sun had almost gone down completely when they arrived at Fourtrees, the sky a mix of burning orange and dusky violet, trees like black claws against the sky. It was strange to be here before the stars were shining, but there were still last-minute plans to be made and instructions to be given before the war party actually set out once night fell. To no one’s surprise, Windclan was already there, clustered together in a tight group near the Great Boulder. One cat stepped forward as Shadowclan surged down the slope, and Rosestar, Mintfrost, Fernfire, and Snowdrift quickly trotted up to meet her. Shalestar gave them a tight nod in greeting, face set in a focused frown. Gorsestorm, Palesky, and Teaselpaw emerged from the crowd behind her, the apprentice giving them all a weak smile. Snowdrift gave her what he hoped was a reassuring blink.

              “Now we just wait for Oakstar,” Shalestar said, tail twitching with anticipation. “We received two of his elders this afternoon, and they are safely squared away. From what I understand, Nightrock was not recovered enough to travel. He is instead safely hidden somewhere in Riverclan territory- one of the elders volunteered to stay and watch over him.” Snowdrift wasn’t thrilled at the news, Mintfrost probably even less so, but there was not much to be done. Besides, Stonestar wouldn’t waste fighters on a meaningless task such as trying to sniff out a sole beaten warrior. No, if anything he’d focus on the Shadowclan camp, the softest target available, if he even bothered at all. Nightrock will be fine. He’s probably safer than the rest of us, honestly. Rosestar nodded agreeably, seeming to be in a cheery, cavalier sort of mood now that he was around the Windclanners.

              “Not to worry old girl, it’s not the cats we left behind that need to be worried tonight. Once Oakstar arrives we can get a good grasp on our numbers and go from there.” The clans settled in to wait, the leaders murmuring quietly together, Snowdrift shuffling a few steps to the side to speak with Fernfire and Teaselpaw. The poor Shadowclan medicine cat was still out of breath.

              “Snowdrift, be a good lad and carry me the rest of the way, will you?” He puffed. “Or get your brute of a brother over here, he seems like a strong young tom. Surely he won’t even notice the extra weight.” Snowdrift couldn’t help a chuckle, as wrong as it felt in the somber atmosphere, and even anxious Teaselpaw cracked a grin. The golden tom let out a heavy sigh, shaking a paw in distaste. “I swear, I’m going to sleep for a moon after this. Oakstar can take a few extra minutes if he’d like. Give us all a moment to recover.”

              “We can soak your feet in the creek.” Snowdrift quipped. “If your paws are numb, they can’t hurt, right?” Fernfire gave him a very unimpressed look, eyes almost wounded, and now Teaselpaw really did laugh. The Shadowclanner opened his mouth to retort when there came the sound of rustling bushes, and they all looked up to see Riverclan had arrived in the hollow. Oakstar cut a majestic figure in the evening light, pale brown fur now shining gold as he made his way to join his fellow leaders. It was an awesome sight to see his entire clan follow down behind him- now that Snowdrift thought about it, he had never seen so many cats in one place before. Even on a typical Gathering night, a clan would only bring about half of their warriors and apprentices. To have now all of Riverclan, almost all of Windclan, and the majority of Shadowclan left the hollow packed with cats. The air warmed as the Riverclanners began to weave amongst them, and soon cats from all three clans were gathered together, murmuring quietly to each other as the leaders converged. Snowdrift was watching them, waiting for the announcements to start, when he heard someone call his name.

              “Snowdrift! Teaselpaw! Over here!” He looked up to see Briarmask slightly elevated over the heads of other cats, and noticed she was using a put out Piketail as a boost to find the medicine cats, feet braced on the large warrior’s shoulders. Snowdrift led Teaselpaw over to where they were, nodding to those who greeted him, murmuring blessings as he went. It only took a moment to reach his friends, and as they sat together, Snowdrift felt a pang in his heart. It had started here, in this hollow, with these three cats who just a few moons ago had been complete strangers. Looking at them now, knowing that he trusted them not just with his own life but those of his clanmates, he couldn’t help the way tears sprang up in his eyes. Piketail, always worrying, noticed immediately.

              “Hey now, no crying until later. We still have the hard part to get over with, yeah? You can wail as much as you want once this is over.” The words were stern, but his tone was encouraging. Briarmask shot them all a wicked grin.

              “Like fish face says, we’ve still got some work to do. But try not to worry, you two. We’ll all make sure you make it to the camp unharmed.” Snowdrift blinked his tears away, nodding hastily. Teaselpaw pressed up against his side with a fond blink.

              “I never thought this would be my life, back when I was at the barn.” She mused. “I think this is enough excitement to last me until at least next winter. Probably longer.” Snowdrift chuckled, affection replacing the pain in his heart. They had been chosen by the ancestors for this, right? Surely they would all be alright. He noticed then that the leaders and deputies were making their way to the Boulder. He held his breath as Mintfrost made the leap, but she managed it well enough, just slightly less graceful than she typically was. Cloudclaw sat with the other clans’ deputies- with him as the only other Thunderclan warrior, he was standing in as a second for Mintfrost. A hush fell over the crowd before the leaders began, all cats focused on what they had to say.

              “My fellow warriors and cats of the Code,” Oakstar yowled. “The time has come! Listen well, now, and follow your orders tonight. Together, we will achieve our victory. To begin, we will go over the general plan, and then break you all into patrols. As you all know, tonight we move to put Stonestar and Featherfall on trial for the crimes of murder and attempted murder of medicine cats, kits, apprentices, and fellow warriors.” Snarls and cries of rage rang out, but Oakstar didn’t give them a moment to let out their anger- he merely shouted over the din. “We will move towards the Thunderclan camp. From here, we move southeast until we hit the ravine. Once there the patrols with the witnesses will split off and head into the camp, while the rest keep any enemies at bay. A small force will accompany the witnesses to ensure their safety should there be any fighters inside the camp itself, but we expect Stonestar to try and stop us from reaching it all together. Also, while we must do our best to follow the plan, it is likely that in the heat of battle things will change. Be ready to adapt as necessary. It is imperative that we all work to watch each other’s backs in this coming fight.” Stepping back, he nodded to Rosestar, who cleared his throat.

              “The patrols will be as follows: Briarmask, Crowcall, Fernfire…” The Shadowclan leader listed the cats accompanying each patrol, with the cats necessary for the trial split into four separate groups. Each clan designated two critical witnesses who would be grouped with their respective leadership and medicine cats. So, Briarmask and Crowcall with Fernfire, Rosestar, and Marshfoot, Piketail and Splashpaw with Oakstar and Coppertail, Silverfang and Dipperwing with Shalestar, Palesky, and Teaselpaw, and finally Snowdrift and Turtlepaw with Mintfrost. These main groups would be orbited by several patrols made of three to five warriors, who would intercept attacks and make sure they could move through unharmed. Each patrol had a warrior designated to fall back and stay with the witnesses should the fight pull their patrol group away. Cloudclaw for Snowdrift’s group, Frogthroat for Fernfire’s, Cinderfall for Teaselpaw’s, and Stormfang for Piketail’s. “In addition, each leader and deputy will name a proxy to stand in their place at the trial should they be unable to make it to camp for any reason. For myself, I elect Bluebird as my proxy.” Marshfoot delegated Batflight, Shalestar and Palesky chose Heathernose and Gorsestorm, and Oakstar and Coppertail picked Squirrelnose and Larkwing. Plan now laid out, Rosestar took a step back, leaving the two mollies looking at each other. Mintfrost flicked an ear in silent request, which Shalestar nodded graciously too. The deputy took a deep breath before addressing the gathered cats.

              “I stand before you all now, humbled by the grace and generosity shown to me by all three clans. While I can never repay the help you have all given me during this time, I ask of you one last favor. Thunderclan has been manipulated and betrayed- they believe they are facing extermination. Please, have mercy on my clanmates tonight. While I would never ask you to leave yourselves defenseless, I also pray that you would spare them. By the ancestors blessing, they will realize that they have been fooled, and will offer us no resistance.” She paused, bowing her head. “Tonight, my father will answer for the crimes he has committed against us all. I promise you, that as the rightful leader of Thunderclan, I will never forget the bonds we have forged, and the compassion that has been shown these past moons. As the sun dawns tomorrow, it will cast light on a new era, one of peace and cooperation for all who live in the territories. I promise that I will do everything within both my own and all Thunderclan’s power to protect that peace for generations to come.”

              “Thunderclan are our brothers and sisters of the stars!” Came a cry, and Snowdrift turned to see a gray Windclan molly standing tall, eyes burning ferociously in the now faint light. “They have suffered just as much as the rest of us. Tonight’s justice is for them as well!” Other warriors took up a rousing cry, until the whole hollow reverberated with a chant of Thunderclan! Windclan! Riverclan! Shadowclan! Latching onto the now frenetic energy in the hollow, Shalestar boldly stepped forward.

              “Warriors of the Code! Children of Wind, Thunder, River, and Shadow, you know your worth! Tonight, we fight for our honored dead, for those betrayed by one of our very own. Tonight, we fight for the integrity of our Code and the glory of our ancestors. Tonight, we fight for the safety of our loved ones, now, and in the future. Tonight, we strike against those who sought to destroy us, and we render justice unto them!” The energy of the crowd reached a fever pitch, cats jumping to their feet and howling a challenge for the whole forest to hear, Snowdrift’s fur standing on end at the sound. “The moon is bright, the sky is clear, and the stars light our path! The blessings of the ancestors are upon us! Together, we cannot fail!” With that, she threw her head back with her own ferocious cry, joined by her fellow leaders. It all came together in a furious cacophony- Shadowclan’s warbling shrieks, Windclan’s high pitched howls, Riverclan’s deep bellows, even the few rumbling Thunderclan roars, piercing the sky and announcing their challenge to the territories. Snowdrift found himself swept up in the current, barely conscious of the press around him as the three clans, united in their purpose, followed after their leaders, up and out of the hollow and into the depths of Thunderclan’s forest.

________________________________________________________________

              They could only keep up the furious charge for so long before the thick growth of the forest forced them to slow, the large mass of cats left no choice but to break apart the further they went in. Snowdrift was disconcerted with the quiet as they slowly made their way forward, each sound making his fur prickle. He had no idea what to expect- would Stonestar be out amongst the fighters? How would they find him? Would they all be in the camp? Would there suddenly just be a line of cats before them, barring their way? What would his clanmates do when they saw him?

              It didn’t take long for him to find out.

              They had passed the creek a few minutes ago, and now patrols were forced to further spread out, strung out in a loose circle around the witnesses, groups trying to stay together as they wove through the brush. Suddenly, to the left, there came a sharp cry, followed by an explosion of sound.

              “They’re in the trees-“ The warning was abruptly cut off, and as Snowdrift whipped his head upwards, he was met with the sight of three cats plummeting down towards them. One landed in front of him, another behind, the third on Mintfrost, and all hell broke loose. The warriors assigned to protect him appeared out of nowhere, ripping away the three rogues and urging him and his clanmates forward.

              “Go!” A Riverclan molly hissed, “We can handle it here!” Not one to disobey direct orders, he scrambled forward, the warriors once again converging around them as they began to fight their way forward. Turtlepaw bumped against his side as they hurried, eyes wide and frightened as they continued on. A sudden gap on her side left them open to attack, but the cat that rushed towards them wasn’t a rogue.

              “Mom?” Turtlepaw cried, and Aspenwing skidded to a stop, shocked gaze fixed on her daughter.

              “Turtle! Oh thank the stars-“ The queen lunged to Turtlepaw’s side, stopping just shy of crashing into her, pressing her nose to the tip of the apprentice’s ear. “He said- you’re ok, he must have-“ a rogue was suddenly there, then, hissing and swiping at Turtlepaw with sharp claws, only to be smacked soundly across the face by a furious Aspenwing. “Get the hell away from my daughter!” The queen snarled, throwing herself onto the rogue and tumbling away into the chaos. Turtlepaw looked like she wanted to follow but Mintfrost appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

              “Your mother will be fine, alright? We need to get to the camp so we can end this.” She urged, and Turtlepaw reluctantly took her place next to Snowdrift as they moved on. More and more warriors dropped back as they went on, waylaid by the fighting and calls for help. Snowdrift could only watch in horror as cats fell, wounded or, in the case of one Windclanner, killed by the relentless rogues attacking them. Snowdrift stared blankly at the body of the wiry tom as they rushed by, his face fixed in one last wordless snarl, and prayed desperately for the ancestor’s protection. Who else has been killed? The fighting was thick now- the undergrowth had cleared a bit, now in the part of the territory with several large oaks with open space between them. The three clans tried to regroup, dragging the rogues along with them, desperate to not be separated and beat down.

              “Cloudclaw!” Came a cry, and Snowdrift looked around in horror, only to see a relieved Tigerwhisker and Stripestream, the ginger siblings standing before his brother. They spoke a few words to each other before the tabby warriors turned to throw themselves at some rogues, the cats crying out in shock as their supposed allies turned on them. As Snowdrift took in the battle around him, he noticed more and more of his clanmates, and praised the ancestors when he saw they’d joined the other clans in their fight. Flystorm was clinging to the back of a particularly burly rogue tom, Ashleaf and Amberpelt ganging up on another, even crochety Badgerstripe snarling as he sized up three Town cats. As good as it was to see, though, it seemed they were in desperate need of the help. Cats lay scattered around, rogues and warriors alike. Spiderpaw stood over his injured brother, fur puffed up to twice his size as he tried to fend off two rogues. A Riverclanner crawled away from a fight, gasping around the wound in her throat. A Windclanner was dragging his clanmate away from the struggle, limping on three legs, the other twisted unnaturally. The battle was reaching a dead lock, and Snowdrift looked desperately for a way through- if they could just make it past the fighting, camp wasn’t too far from here-

              A weight crashed into him from behind, sending him rolling, and he looked up in terror at the scrappy looking molly that had him pinned, flinching as she raised a paw to strike, dread pricking his pelt as another scrawny tom appeared on his left, teeth bared in a vicious grin. She was gone before the hit could fall, however, and suddenly Briarmask was there, alongside Crowcall and Shadefur, beating both the molly and the tom back with a flurry of blows until their opponents turned tail and ran. The pointed molly was then at this side, pushing him to his feet and chiding him impatiently.

              “I told you I can’t always be here to save you, alright? Now come on, we just need to push through!” Snowdrift saw Fernfire and Splashpaw nearby, guarded by a ferocious Piketail, as well as the rest of the witness patrols drawing closer. “They’re going to form a circle around the witnesses and break the line. We’ll be on our own after that, but we’ll figure it out. Get ready!” Snowdrift scrambled fully to his feet, soon finding himself in a cluster of witnesses, surrounded by the leaders, deputies, and the proxies, as well as any warrior that could pull themselves away from the fight, his own clanmates included. The rogues also pulled back to regroup, forming a barrier and blocking the way towards the Thunderclan camp. They all paused for a moment, snarling and sizing each other up. It seemed the rogues were outnumbered, now, but the witnesses couldn’t stay to fight, and neither could the leaders. It would be a very, very close match. Rosestar stepped forward, letting out a maniacal laugh as he looked over his shoulder at the clan cats, face and neck a mess of blood.

              “Last one there is a piece of crowfood!” He cried, and Shalestar surged forward, leading the charge as the warriors rushed towards the rogues. They met with a furious crash of howls and cries, but their plan seemed to work, their forces cleaving through rogues like a diving bird in the waves. As the fighters fell away the witnesses pushed forward, breaking free of the fight and finding a clear path before them.  Snowdrift thought they were home free when Briarmask lagged behind him, eyes wild with terror.

              “Uncle!” She cried, and Snowdrift turned to look himself, only to make eye contact with the leader as he was pulled down by four rogues. Go, he mouthed, and then disappeared. Coppertail was also nowhere to be seen, and neither was Palesky, shooting a spark of worry down the medicine cat’s spine. But it seemed the rest of them had made it through ok, the extra proxies dropping back when they saw they weren’t needed, Bluebird, Squirrelnose, and Gorsestorm continuing on with them. It grew eerily quiet as they ran further from the fighting, the cries fading to just barely audible as they arrived at the top of the ravine. Snowdrift took heaving breaths, Fernfire sprawled out beside him as they tried to recover, looking around to try and take stock of who made it.

              By some act of the ancestors, the critical witnesses from each clan were present, as well as at least proxies for the leadership. Crowcall and Briarmask were nosing at Fernfire. Marshfoot and Bluebird were at the back of the group with Gorsestorm, Silverfang, and Piketail, Teaselpaw and Splashpaw pressed up against a shaking Dipperwing in front of them. Oakstar, Squirrelnose, and Shalestar flanked Mintfrost and Turtlepaw, who were staring down towards the entrance of camp with pained faces. Most of them were injured in some way- scratched up or standing on unsteady paws, the group took a moment to rest before they faced whatever was in the camp. Are there more rogues in there?

              “Is there any way to see into the camp without going in?” Shalestar pressed Mintfrost, gaze darting around. “If there’s fighters inside, they can pick us off one by one as we enter.” The deputy nodded, turning to her apprentice.

              “Turtlepaw,” she mewed. “The tree your uncle is buried under- if you climb high enough, you’ll be able to see into the clearing. Go, quickly, and report back.” Turtlepaw jerked her head in a nod, scrambling off towards the north side of camp. The oak that sheltered Owlwing’s grave had branches that hung over the ravine, offering shade, protection, and now, a convenient place to spy. Mintfrost remained standing, weight off her bad leg, staring after her apprentice. Shalestar began to pace about, and Snowdrift decided to take the moment to give everyone a more thorough once over.

              Fernfire had received a nasty bite on his tail, but waved Snowdrift away with a huff. Briarmask had another notch in her ear, Gorsestorm some deep scratches on his flank, and Piketail had torn a claw from when it got stuck in a rogue’s matted fur. Besides them, the others had only minor injuries. He stopped next to Splashpaw, Teaselpaw and Dipperwing, looking at the shaken warrior in concern.

              “You holding up, Dipperwing?” He murmured quietly, trying not to startle the blind tom. Dipperwing gave him a rueful smile in return.

              “This is terrifying,” he rasped in a broken chuckle. “If I never go in a forest again it’ll be too soon.” Snowdrift could only imagine how it felt, rushing blind through strange territory, only able to listen as your clanmates fought around you, completely at the mercy of others to guide you to safety.

              “Understandable,” Splashpaw mewed wryly, reaching up to pull some debris from the blind warrior’s fur, “I can’t say I’m overly fond of forests myself.”

              “Well,” Teaselpaw mewed with forced brightness, “the hard part is over, now. Only thing left to do is share your story and then we can go home.”  Ancestor’s willing. It was a tense silence that fell over the group, Snowdrift and Teaselpaw wincing anytime there was a particularly loud cry or shriek from the fighting cats. Thankfully, there was no sign of approaching enemies, and the entrance to camp remained quiet and still. Snowdrift felt his anxiety ratcheting each minute that went by, mind spinning frantically as he tried to steel himself for what came next. Is Turtlepaw ok? Did she get intercepted? What will we do if the camp was filled with fighters? Or what if no one is there, and Stonestar’s run off? How would we find him? Is Featherfall there? What do we do if-

              “No fighters,” came a sudden voice, and everyone but Mintfrost jumped, startled to see Turtlepaw. It was like she had appeared out of thin air. “Stonestar is arguing with the elders about something, but I couldn’t hear, and I don’t see anybody else, so it should be fine? I think? Uh,” the little calico noticed how she had startled them all, “sorry, for, uh, spooking you.” Mintfrost slitted her eyes affectionately.

              “Excellent work,” she purred, casting a glance over at Snowdrift. “Thunderclan should enter first, at least for the elder’s sake. I’ll lead. Be ready for if Stonestar tries anything.” The deputy picked her way down the ravine, her clanmates and allies trailing after her, Snowdrift’s heart pounding in his ears, paws fumbling over the familiar path, and he never imagined being so afraid at coming home. The familiar scratch of the thorn tunnel grounded him a bit, and he tried to just focus on following Turtlepaw, the apprentices black tipped tail making an excellent point to follow. When they emerged into the clearing, bright with moonlight, it was eerily empty, making Stonestar’s snarls of rage carry easily over to them. The tom’s back was turned, fur bristling as he loomed over an annoyed Sparrowhawk, the brown tabby queen looking distinctly unimpressed.

              “I don’t give a squirrel’s last nut about what you think, you spoiled brat,” she snapped, Adderstripe stepping up beside her in support. “You need to listen to what I think-“ the elder stopped as she caught sight of Mintfrost, a smug grin on her face as Stonestar whipped around. “Better yet, you should listen to her-“ As their allies pushed into the camp behind them, Stonestar’s face dropped. He whirled back towards Sparrowhawk, landing a solid blow across her face before anyone could move to stop him. She dropped with a thud, Adderstripe letting out a furious cry as he tried to tackle Stonestar, but the well-muscled leader easily tossed him aside. Stonestar dragged the dazed elder before him, paw placed firmly on her neck, claws unsheathed.

              “Let me go, right now, or she dies,” he snarled, pressing down harder as the other cats spit and hissed, eyes wild in the moonlight. “I mean it. You know I’m not afraid of doing it.”

              “Does that count as a judicial confession?" Gorsestorm murmured, ears pinned back in anger. Mintfrost paused for a moment, then flicked an ear, stepping to the side with a calm expression.

              “Sure. Go ahead.” Snowdrift looked at her in shock. She’s letting him go? Their allies were silent, nobody moving an inch, but the deputy merely tossed her head towards the tunnel. “You leave Sparrowhawk alone, and I’ll let you walk out of camp unharmed. Hell, I’ll even give you a head start once you’re out.” Stonestar narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but as Mintfrost shot a hard look at Shalestar, the leader slowly dipped her head, also stepping to the side. Snowdrift was incredulous as the other’s followed their lead, parting down the middle and leaving an open path to the tunnel. He almost stepped forward to protest when he noticed Gorsestorm and Silverfang crouched by the entrance, muscles taught, Briarmask and Crowcall sitting across from each other, posture casual but eyes razor sharp. It dawned on him then, what they were planning, but Stonestar was desperate. He stepped off Sparrowhawk, padding cautiously towards the tunnel. He passed Mintfrost and Shalestar, who watched with cool expressions, and continued slowly until he was about halfway to the tunnel, then launched himself into a sudden sprint. The warriors sprang into action- Briarmask threw herself at his feet, causing him to stumble as he swerved to avoid her, Crowcall bowling into him from behind. The impact made Stonestar tumble forward, quickly set upon by the Windclanners and Piketail, and then there were a brief few moments of flailing limbs, furious growls, and flying fur. When the movement settled, Stonestar was pinned by the three warriors, who then dragged him back to where Oakstar, Shalestar, Marshfoot, Mintfrost, and their seconds were gathered. Crowcall and Piketail held him securely as Gorsestorm padded over to Shalestar’s side, and Snowdrift took the moment to run over to where the elders were still laying, ignoring the way Stonestar spit insults and accusations. Sparrowhawk was hacking, rubbing at her throat, and Adderstripe was shakily trying to push himself to his feet. Fernfire, Splashpaw, and Teaselpaw were over in a moment, and together the four healers made sure the elders were alright.

              “I’m just fine, boy, no need to fuss.” Sparrowhawk rasped. “Come on, Adder, I’m sure they’ll be needing our help now.” Snowdrift helped guide the two elders over to where the leaders were waiting to begin the trial, the gathered cats offering them respectful nods as they settled down beside them.

              “Sparrowhawk, Adderstripe,” Mintfrost said, “will you serve as witnesses to the trial?” They nodded, faces set and serious. Clearing her throat, the deputy nodded to Oakstar. As the oldest leader, he would oversee the proceedings.

              “Tonight, we put Stonestar, leader of Thunderclan, on trial for the murder of Falconstar, Poppypaw, Reedpelt, and Kestrelcall, as well as the attempted murders of Silverfang, Dipperwing, Splashpaw, Piketail, Fernfire, Crowcall, Briarmask, Sparkkit, Mintfrost, Snowdrift, and Turtlepaw. As for what we just witnessed, and with the agreement of my compatriots, I move to add the charges of assaulting the elders Sparrowhawk and Adderstripe. Is there a consensus on the charges?” Affirmatives. “Then we will begin with the testimony. Splashpaw, please step forward.”

              They went down the line of witnesses, each one describing their attacks or the attacks they witnessed. Splashpaw did admirably, looking somber as he recounted the incident in the forest. Piketail, barely keeping his fury controlled as he spoke of finding Reedpelt’s body, of seeing Featherfall and hearing Stonestar when they attacked the apprentice. Dipperwing spoke for both Silverfang and himself, recounting how he smelled Thunderclan and Town scent the night his father died, Silverfang confirming Stonestar was responsible when interrogated with a series of yes and no questions. Her eyes burned as she pointed directly at Stonestar when Oakstar asked her to identify Kestrelcall’s murderer. Crowcall told of how he fended off Stonestar and Featherfall when they tried to kill Fernfire, Briarmask of how she killed the rogue they sent after the medicine cat and Sparkkit. Turtlepaw bravely kept her gaze focused on Oakstar as she told him how Stonestar confronted them in the forest and how she had found Mintfrost, the deputy speaking in a cool tone as she described fighting her father, and the way he threw her under the car on the road. Finally, Snowdrift stepped forward, mouth dry as he explained the sign he had received from the ancestors, the things he had learned investigating alongside the others, and finally the incident where Stonestar had tried to kill him, recounting the explanation Featherfall had given for their actions in a shaking voice. The moon moved through the sky as the witnesses gave their testimony, and it was directly overhead when Snowdrift finished, stepping back to sit beside the others. Silence reigned for a moment before Oakstar once again lifted his head.

              “Stonestar, do you have anything to say in your own defense? Are there any witnesses you could name to defend you?” Stonestar growled.

              “Oh, come off it, you stodgy old bastard. We all know I did exactly what you said I did- I killed Falconstar, and Kestrelcall, and Reedpelt, I attempted or at least enabled others to attack the rest, but- well, there’s just one thing.” A terrible smile stole over his face. “I didn’t kill Poppypaw. Featherfall did. And she’s not here, is she?” Snowdrift felt ice drip down his spine. Silverfang had to sink her teeth into Dipperwing’s scruff, holding the raging tom back. Shalestar looked like she was a whisker away from ripping Stonestar apart, stalking forward a few quick paces.

              “You’re lying,” she snarled, but really, what reason to lie at this point? “Even if you didn’t strike the final blow, you’re still responsible.” Stonestar hummed mockingly.

              “Oh, but will that count? How does being a ghost work, anyway? I can tell you what I do know, however. You will never find Featherfall. And, if I’m right about what that means for Poppypaw, then I still win.” The last comment was like a blow to the face. It wasn’t enough to just kill the medicine cats, was it? He wanted us all to really suffer, Snowdrift thought, horrified. He knew anyone he murdered would be a ghost. He knew they would wander. And if he thought he’d never be caught… Then they had also wanted to doom the medicine cats to be lost from Starclan for eternity. The horrifying realization dawned on the rest of the gathered cats, even Mintfrost looking a mix of terrified and disgusted. Shalestar now distinctly resembled a storm cloud, gray fur bristling and yellow eyes flashing like lightning.

              “I find the accused guilty on all counts. His confession confirms it.” She ground out. Gorsestorm was quick to agree, shoulder to shoulder with his leader. Marshfoot, Bluebird, Oakstar, Squirrelnose, and Mintfrost affirmed the guilty verdict. Oakstar looked over to the elders.

              “Do you agree that the accused was given a fair trial?” Both gave fierce nods. “Then to the sentencing. The accused has been found guilty of… multiple counts of murder, attempted murder, and assault. I move that the penalty be death.”

              “Seconded,” Shalestar snarled.

              “I concur,” Bluebird said.

              There was a brief moment of silence from Mintfrost. The decision needs to be unanimous for an execution. If Mintfrost dissented, Stonestar would only be exiled.

              “… I assent to this penalty.” She murmured at last. Stonestar exploded with rage.

              “How dare you all! Especially you!” He spat, crazed eyes focused on his daughter. “I did this for the clans! For you! What do we need these damned healers for? What good are they to us, hoarding their healing knowledge, coveting communication with the ancestors? And for what- to meddle, to fail, to allow no one else the chance to try and save the ones they love?” He let out a bitter laugh. “They guard their position so jealously and can’t even achieve the simple tasks that it requires. I did us all a favor. My only regret is I couldn’t finish what I started.” He tried to shove himself to his feet, hissing at the warriors who forced him back down. “Let me up. I will face death on my feet, like a true warrior.”

              “Let him go,” Oakstar said, and waved his tail, gesturing for the gathered cats to form a circle around Stonestar. “There is nowhere to run. Shalestar.” She lifted her head. “I ask that you serve as our executioner tonight.” Stonestar sneered.

              “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you. All your little tantrums about justice finally led to this, hmm? I’m sure you’re thrilled.” The gray leader narrowed her eyes, fur now flat and expression composed.

              “There is no pleasure to be had in killing, even scum like you.” She growled. Her gaze flicked to the others, landing squarely on Mintfrost. “With the consent of my compatriots, I accept.” Nods all around, Mintfrost struggling to keep her cool mask from breaking. Turtlepaw leaned briefly into her side, brow furrowed with worry. Shalestar nodded brusquely, firm gaze fixed on Stonestar. He drew himself up to his full height, meeting her gaze with a wordless challenge.

              “Ancestors have mercy on you,” she murmured, and Snowdrift forced himself to watch what happened next.

              Stonestar may have been a fearsome warrior, but Shalestar was the fastest cat in the territories. She lunged, and in a blink, she was on the other leader, jaws locked around his throat. Even Stonestar seemed surprised at her speed, eyes wide in shock as he let out a gurgle. Shalestar released him- he dropped to the sandy ground- let out a single, ragged breath- and was still.

              The silence was deafening.

              The sky was perfectly clear.

              As he looked at his leader’s body, Snowdrift couldn’t help the small spark of grief in his chest. Yes, Stonestar was a terrible murderer, cruel and unforgiving, but for most of Snowdrift’s life, he had been a kind and strong leader, a cat he had looked up to. Snowdrift didn’t know what he grieved more- that Stonestar was gone, or that the tom he had believed him to be was a lie. Shalestar stepped away, face solemn, and turned to Gorsestorm.

              “Go, now, and spread the news that Stonestar is dead. Hopefully that will be enough to send the rogues running.” Briarmask, Crowcall, and Piketail elected to go with him, and the four warriors trotted out of camp, relief coloring their gazes. The rest of the leaders and warriors converged, whispering to each other, but Mintfrost stayed where she was, face carefully blank but heartbroken eyes fixed on her father. Snowdrift carefully padded over to her, exchanging a concerned glance with Turtlepaw.

              “I- I can help you bury him.” He said quietly, glancing over at the other leaders. “Nobody has to know where we take him.” Turtlepaw bobbed her head, tail twitching nervously.

              “I know a few places cats don’t go often,” she whispered. “Some of them are pretty nice. I can show you if you want.” Mintfrost closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they were gleaming with a grieved affection.

              “Thank you, both of you. I… would appreciate that very much. We can- just, put him outside the camp for now. We need to focus on getting the wounded back here for treatment.” Snowdrift nodded, lending Mintfrost his shoulder as she carefully rose to her feet, hissing in pain as she flexed her hip. She limped over to the others, expression serious once more.

              “We can bring the wounded back here for triage,” she said. “Anyone seriously injured is more than welcome to stay, but I understand the desire to return home. We should go start looking for cats in need of help.” The others agreed, and Mintfrost stopped to murmur something to Adderstripe and Sparrowhawk, the elders nodding in return, eyes sorrowful and sympathetic. With that, the rest of them turned to troop out of camp, and Snowdrift’s stomach clenched at the thought of what awaited them.

              There were many casualties that night.

              Three rogues were dead, the rest fled into the night. Besides that, five warriors had fallen: Leafspring and Thrushspots, from Windclan, Darkwater from Riverclan, Sagefur, from Thunderclan, and Clayfang, from Shadowclan. Their bodies were temporarily brought to the Thunderclan camp, where all the clans could honor them, with plans to bring them home before the night was over. There were many injuries, thankfully not too many critical, and the four medicine cats worked hard to get those most hurt treated quickly. Snowdrift didn’t have the herbs to treat four clans’ worth of cats, so those with minor wounds were sent away with instructions to keep them clean until they could return home. A couple hours later, Webpaw, Browntail, Lavenderfur, Stormfang, Daisypetal, Flystorm, and Badgerstripe were crammed into the medicine den, stable and resting.

              Rosestar had been found without a scratch on him, bloodied pelt and haggard gaze speaking to at least one life lost. Coppertail and Palesky were also relatively unharmed- the toms had been too caught up fighting to break away and join them for the trial. As the last cats were looked over, the leaders called their medicine cats to them, clustered at the base of the Meeting Stump.

              “I’ll be getting my warriors out of your fur, now, Mintfrost,” Rosestar rasped, devoid of his usual humor. Now, he just sounded tired. “Browntail has already said his goodbyes to his brother. We need to get Clayfang home so Fernfire can perform the ceremonies before the sun rises. I’ll send someone tomorrow to check on how my warrior is doing, and to bring you more herbs.” Shalestar nodded, ears drooping.

              “We will be leaving as well. It’s a long way back to the moor, and Leafspring and Thrushspots also deserve their rest. I thank you, for keeping Daisypetal in your care. I’ll send a runner as well.”

              “Same for us,” Oakstar rumbled. “On all counts. It has been an honor fighting with you all tonight. I pray we have found the peace we’ve been searching for.” With that, the leaders called their cats together, collecting their dead and starting the slow march back home. It left just Thunderclan in their clearing, looking lost and grief stricken, Sagefur small in the sand before them. Amberpelt and Yellowtail were curled up near their sister’s body, gazing blankly into the distance, friends and family drifting about in a daze. Mintfrost took a deep breath before hoisting herself onto the Stump, Snowdrift taking his spot at its base.

              “Gather close, everyone.” She said, and in the quiet the call echoed. The warriors shuffled closer, looking up at their deputy with exhausted eyes. “These past few weeks have been torturous. I cannot begin to express my relief at having you all safe, and my grief at having lost Sagefur before peace could be restored. I hope you will all be happy to know that Nightrock and Whitefoot are safe, sheltering in other clans. I will send cats to retrieve them tomorrow, so we may all be home together at last.” Mintfrost paused for a moment, bowing her head. “You are all owed an explanation for what has happened. For now, I will just say this: my father let himself be blinded by grief and petty revenge. He took out his pain on those we have all sworn by our lives to protect, and, with the cooperation of the other clans, he was brought to justice tonight. Tomorrow, Snowdrift and I will tell the full story and answer any questions you all may have. Tonight, we will rest, and grieve, and prepare ourselves for what comes next.” It seemed an agreeable enough proposal, as no one tried to argue. As Mintfrost slid down from the stump, cats clustered together, some falling asleep where they lay. Turtlepaw, Cloudclaw, Tigerwhisker, and Stripestream approached Mintfrost and Snowdrift, faces set in determined frowns.

              “There’s no food in camp,” Tigerwhisker said. "We’ve been stretched thin with the rogues. With your permission, we’d like to go try and hunt what we can. Everyone needs to eat if they’re going to recover.” Mintfrost nodded, a small spark of pride in her eyes.

              “Of course. Take anyone willing and able with you. We need as much as you can find. And be careful- keep in pairs, just in case any rogues are still lurking around. If there are, do not engage unless necessary, and report back with what you see.” The young warriors gave her determined nods, Turtlepaw briefly pressing her nose to Mintfrost’s shoulder before they turned and made their way to the entrance. They stopped to speak to a few warriors, getting Mapletail, Dovecall, and Turtlepaw’s brothers to come with them. As the camp settled into a heavy silence, Mintfrost let out a deep sigh.

              “Adderstripe and Sparrowhawk moved Stonestar’s body behind the camp. We can bury him at some point, when Turtlepaw has had a chance to rest. More importantly, we need to make a plan for tomorrow.” Snowdrift nodded.

              “While rest and hunting are the priority,” he mewed, “we need to get to the Moonstone as soon as possible. Being leaderless is just as bad for the clan as being hungry. And you need to choose a deputy as well.” She let out a considering hum.

              “What about the injured cats? Can any of the other warriors make it home tomorrow? And how are Badgerstripe and Flystorm?” Snowdrift was quiet for a moment. They’ll live, but…

              “Badgerstripe will… probably need to retire.” He sighed. “The wounds he received are debilitating, and it will take a while for him to heal. Aspenwing said he was fighting three rogues at once.” The queen had fussed over her mate, ignoring his grumbles with practiced ease. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re even alive! Don’t teach our sons to be so reckless with their safety with your terrible example. Turtlepaw had looked affronted at being left out, but Aspenwing had quickly reassured her. Darling, you’re the only other one in this family with a lick of sense. I can trust you, at least. “Flystorm has some broken ribs- she got knocked against a rock pretty hard. She’ll be fine, but it won’t be a quick recovery.” The little molly was going to be insufferable, he could already tell. She tended to buzz around like her namesake, so being confined to bed rest would be a battle. “The other warriors should be good to leave in the next few days. Webpaw is the worst off, but as long as we can keep infection at bay, he’ll be fine.” The apprentice had a bad stomach wound and had lost a lot of blood, but Fernfire had been confident in his chances. Spiderpaw had stayed pressed up against his brother until Marshfoot had come to collect him, and had to be coaxed into leaving him behind. The mute tom’s eyes were heartbreakingly sad as he trudged out of camp, Bluebird guiding him with a gentle touch. From what Snowdrift had learned from his time in Shadowclan, Spiderpaw and Webpaw’s mother, Bluebird and Blackear’s daughter, had died when the boys had just been made apprentices. Having an unknown father, the senior warriors took responsibility for them. That family didn’t need another tragedy this year, and Snowdrift prayed that the apprentice really would make it.

              “Alright,” Mintfrost said, exhaustion finally starting to color her tone, “here’s what we’ll do. Try to get some rest for now. Dawn is only an hour or so away, and Sagefur needs her ceremony then. After she’s buried, we can find a place to put Stonestar and then head to the Moonstone. We can discuss deputies on the way back. Sound good?” Snowdrift nodded agreeably, body aching for sleep. I can’t believe it’s actually over. The medicine cat didn’t even bother returning to his den, simply slumping down outside of it and closing his eyes. Well, part of it’s over at least. I have a feeling that the real work is just beginning.

              He felt like his eyes had only been closed a moment when someone poked him in the side, and he blearily looked up to see a weary Cloudclaw standing over him.

              “Sky’s starting to lighten,” he murmured. “Time to say goodbye to Sagefur.” Snowdrift nodded, staggering to his feet. He tried to groom his coat a little, not wanting to look like a burr for the warrior’s final blessing. Cloudclaw helped him, smoothing down cowlicks and picking debris out of his long fur. Looking much more presentable, he pressed his forehead to his twin’s shoulder, and together they went to join the rest of the clan, now huddling together in the middle of the clearing. Amberpelt and Yellowtail had groomed her fur, and Snowdrift regretted not having any herbs to decorate her with. Sagefur had always been the practical sort, though- hopefully she wouldn’t mind. Now, it just looked like she was sleeping. Snowdrift took his place at Mintfrost’s side.

              “Honorable ancestors,” he intoned. “We ask you to welcome this warrior into your ranks. She has made the ultimate sacrifice, and thus earned ultimate glory in your hunting grounds. Sagefur was a worthy heir to Thunder’s legacy; guide her swiftly now to her place amongst the stars. There, may she help guide us in death with the same dedication she protected us with in life. As the stars fade into morning light, we pray her spirit goes with them.” He looked to Amberpelt and Yellowtail now, the mollies taking deep breaths.

              “Sister, worry not for us. Return to the heavens with our love and our blessings.” They said together, Amberpelt’s voice cracking on the final word. Ashleaf pressed against her, head bowed in grief.

              “With our final commendations, Sagefur, go now in peace.” Mintfrost led the chant of the warriors name, the rest of the clan following with loud cries. As the sun finally peaked over the horizon, the warriors dispersed. It seemed the hunting patrol had been moderately successful, and food was being passed out, cats splitting small pieces of prey. Mintfrost cast him a glance.

              “Check on the injured, have another break, and when the sun is fully up we’ll head out. I’ll go with them to bury Sagefur. I’m placing Mapletail in charge while I’m gone, so go to her if you need anything.”

              The injured cats were all asleep when he padded into the den, but he gave them careful once overs, relieved to smell no infection and hear their even breathing. He then decided to go check in on each of his clanmates, making his rounds with kind words, murmured blessings, and a listening ear. Two patrols had been sent out to hunt, coming back when the sun was about halfway over the horizon, dropping off prey before heading out again. Turtlepaw had stayed behind, waiting patiently with Snowdrift for Mintfrost, back from the burial, who was busy speaking with Mapletail. The ginger queen nodded before padding off, and the deputy limped her way over to them.

              “Alright, Mapletail is going to rotate patrols and keep an eye out for runners from other clans. Are the injured cats alright to be left alone?” Snowdrift nodded. “Then we leave now. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to bury Stonestar before we set out- I don’t want the body attracting any predators. That’s the last thing we need.”

              “There’s a place not far from here, in the direction you’ll be heading.” Turtlepaw said. “I can lead you to it.” The other’s agreed, and together they set out, the few clanmates lingering in the clearing call out well wishes and blessings to Mintfrost, eyes hopeful. They need something to rally around. The stability of Mintfrost’s naming will give them that. They made a detour to the back side of the camp, finding Stonestar’s body loosely hidden under some branches and snow. He helped Mintfrost haul his body to a clearing nearby that Turtlepaw led them to. It was small and generally unremarkable, but he knew the apple tree growing there would flower nicely in the spring, and that the quiet clearing was unlikely to be disturbed. They buried him at the base of the tree, and there, Snowdrift quietly performed the death ceremony, Mintfrost mumbling her line. Turtlepaw left after, off to hunt some more, and the other two set off. The river was quiet and slow as they came to the bridge, and they crossed through Windclan territory without seeing a single soul. They arrived at the Mouthermouth about midmorning, and Snowdrift thought of how strange it looked in the daytime. The tunnels were a murky gray instead of impenetrable black, and he took point as he led Mintfrost to the Moonstone. It glowed softly in the morning light that came through the clearing, and it left a strange sort of ache in his heart. How much changes. Each time I sit in front of this stone, I feel like a different cat.

              “Are you ready?” He asked softly, gaze still focused on the stone. Mintfrost paused a moment before flicking her ear.

              “I don’t think anyone is ever ready for this, but it must be done, hm? Best to get it over with.”

              Good enough for me. Together, they laid down and pressed their noses to the Moonstone. As sleep washed over him, Snowdrift felt a glimmer of hope.

              We made it. Thank the stars, we made it.

First / Prev / Next

[overgrowth-wc]

The morning of the Gathering Trial dawns, but there is still much to do. A last minute complication throws a wrench in their plans. Where's the fun in everything going smoothly? 

              Briarmask crouched on top of the fence, searching for any signs of trouble before she called her companions to join her. It was still dark, the sun not yet risen, but they needed to finish their errand before the sun rose and two legs started swarming about. It was time to finally bring Cloudclaw and Whitefoot home. Shadowclan had been searching without success since they first learned of their disappearance. Rosestar had sent out a couple other patrols in the past few days, but they hadn’t seen the Thunderclanners anywhere. The last area of Town close enough to the territories to search was the place around where Cookie lived, and so Rosestar had sent out the cats most familiar with that area to look.

              The plan was for her, Batflight, and Shadefur to use their knowledge and sources in the Town to locate the Thunderclanner’s as quickly as possible. Shadefur in particular had grown friendly with a certain group of cats during his adventures with Tulip, and they were hoping at least one of them would have the information they needed. Shadowclan shared their love of rumors with Town cats, and asking around would probably yield the quickest results. The other patrols had only heard that yes, there were two newcomers from the forest, but they had passed through quickly and hadn’t been seen since. While the area around the park was quite far from Thunderclan territory, Snowdrift’s family had been missing for almost two weeks. Plenty of time to wind their way to the only speck of green in the stone wasteland.

              Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, Briarmask waved to Batty and Shadefur, the two warriors quickly joining her on the fence. Without a word they set out, weaving through yards to head to one of the more populated alleys that was close to the park. At this early hour cats would be up and about, looking for food and such before the two legs really got started for the day. There was something… off, to Briarmask, however, as they neared their destination, and it wasn’t until they stepped into the typically bustling alley that she was able to pinpoint it.

              There was a suspicious lack of cats around.

              By this point, they should have seen at least a half dozen loners, with another dozen or so in the alley. The dumpsters here were rife with food, the buildings that lined it the sort of places two legs gathered to eat. The popular feeding ground attracted all sorts of characters, but as the Shadowclan warriors turned the corner, they saw barely a pawful scattered around. Briarmask didn’t recognize any of the few scavengers but, thankfully, it seemed Shadefur did. He made a beeline towards a scraggly calico, the old molly gnawing away at some bones. She hissed at his approach before seeming to recognize who it was.

              “G’mornin’, Shade.” She croaked. “Sorry for the rude greetin’, I couldn’t see it was you in this gloom. What’re you doin’ here so early?” Despite her cranky appearance, what with her flat, scowling face and fiercely narrowed eyes, she sounded friendly enough.

              “Good morning, Dotty.” Shadefur greeted respectfully. “I’m here with my friends, Briar and Bat, to look for some other forest cats. A mother and son, the mother is gray and white, the son just white, both super fluffy-“

              “And don’t know a trash can from a tree?” Dotty interrupted, sounding amused. Thank the ancestors, Briarmask thought, nearly sagging forward with relief. They’re here after all. At Shadefur’s eager nod, the old molly snorted.

              “We’ve been callin’em Spots and Claws. Got here a few days ago now, haven’t been havin’ an easy time of it. I ran into ‘em myself a not a day past, tried to give ‘em a few pointers. Last I heard they’ve been hangin’ round the park.”

              “Thank you for the help, Dotty, it means a lot.” Shadefur mewed, glancing down at the old molly’s meal. “Can I catch you something for your trouble?” The calico purred, tail curling up in delight.

              “Well now, I wouldn’t say no to somethin’ better than these here bones. You’re a doll.” Giving her a fond nudge, Shadefur turned to his companions.

              “You two go on ahead, I’ll catch Dotty something really quick and catch up.” The mollies nodded, giving their own respectful goodbyes before heading out. Elders were elders, even if they weren’t clan cats, after all. The fact Dotty managed to survive on the streets so long was nothing short of a miracle and a testament to her own capabilities.

              “We should see if she wants to come back with us,” Batflight suddenly whispered, throwing a glance back towards where they just came from. “She shouldn’t have to be out here on her own.” Briarmask hummed in agreement. Great minds think alike.

              “I wouldn’t be surprised if Shade hasn’t already started trying to convince her, knowing him.” She replied, fond. “But yeah, we can try and help get her to come with us.” Elders were classified as protected cats under the Code, so it wasn’t uncommon for Shadowclanners to try and convince any elderly cats they came across to come back to the clan to receive proper care. Most refused, but some, especially the lonely or ill, would take them up on the offer. Dotty looked like she didn’t have anyone else taking care of her, which meant she needed their help. If we run into her on the way back, we can see if she’ll come with us.

              In no time at all they were at the park, and again, there were very few cats around. It made Briarmask worry about what could be going on, but for now, she needed to focus on finding Snowdrift’s family. She shot Batflight a glance.

              “I’ll go left, you go right, meet in the middle?” A returning nod and the mollies were off. Briarmask headed immediately towards where the bushes were densest, close to where Tulip had made her den. The Thunderclanners would probably look to hide in the environment they were most comfortable with in such a foreign place, and sure enough, that familiar scent of leaf litter and oak hit her nose when she was only a few tail lengths into the bushes. Treading carefully and opening her mouth to get a better scent, she followed the smell towards a gnarl of bushes. The scent was getting very fresh when she was suddenly bowled over, pinned in place by a very fluffy ball of rage. Ah, there he is.

              “Get away from us.” Cloudclaw snarled, and it was disconcerting to see such a familiar face twisted in such an unfamiliar expression. Damn, he and Snowdrift really are twins. The tom’s odd eyes were wild, and Briarmask had no interest in seeing if he’d use those wicked claws of his to back up his warning. Despite her instincts screaming at her to fight or flee, she consciously relaxed her body, trying to use her most placating tone to soothe him.

              “Snowdrift sent us to find you,” she mewed, “Nightrock said you two had vanished, we’d hoped that you’d come to the Town.” Thankfully, the white tom didn’t try to claw her, but he kept her in place, eyes narrowed in suspicion. When in doubt, always name drop.

              “My brother is dead,” he said harshly, but there was a hint of reluctance in his tone, “and I don’t appreciate you bringing him up, bog rat. And how the hell would you hear anything from Nightrock?” Snowdrift had worried that his family would be suspicious, seeing as they only had what they learned from Stonestar to go off. While they would be disbelieving towards him about who really attacked or killed Snowdrift, for all they knew he really was dead, and the other clans were seeking to attack Thunderclan in retaliation for Stonestar’s crimes. You’ll have to tell them something only I know, the medicine cat had advised.

              “He said you had a crush on Mintfrost when you were apprentices,” Briarmask blurted out, and the tom recoiled as if she had struck him, backing away a few steps as he tried to deny it.

              “No- that’s not- he promised he’d never- wait,” Cloudclaw abruptly halted, tripping over his words as he sputtered and stared. “Wait, he- you couldn’t know- Snowdrift is alive?” And now his odd eyes were glittering with tears instead of aggression, and Briarmask finally felt like it was safe to get up. Easing herself onto her stomach, she nodded.

              “He’s alive, and so are Mintfrost and Turtlepaw, although Mintfrost is in rough shape. Stonestar attacked them, but they were able to get to us in Shadowclan. They’ve been sheltering in our camp since.” The white tom was blinking rapidly, trying to keep his tears at bay, and gave her a firm nod.

              “Come on,” he said, tossing his head, “my mother is this way. She needs to hear this.” Briarmask followed after him until they reached the center of the cluster of bushes. A ball of gray and white fluff was tucked under a bush, hard to see amongst the barren branches and patchy snow.

              “Mom, help is here,” Cloudclaw called as they drew close, and Whitefoot slowly lifted her head, eyes unfocused. She seemed torn between suspicion and relief when she caught sight of Briarmask next to her son.

              “What’s going on,” the queen rasped, and Briarmask almost flinched as the smell of infection hit her nose. Whitefoot shakily pushed herself into a crouch, and the pointed molly caught sight of a nasty wound on her leg. Oh stars, is that a rat bite?

              “She’s from Shadowclan. Snowdrift is safe, and so are Mintfrost and Turtlepaw,” Cloudclaw mewed quickly, moving to press against her side- tears started to drip down her face at the knowledge her son and clanmates were safe. “She’s here to take us to them.” The Thunderclanner gave her a glance as he spoke and she nodded, dipping her head to Whitefoot.

              “My name is Briarmask, I’m a friend of Snowdrift. Two of my clanmates are around, we came to find you two when we heard you had fled the forest. Now, let’s get going before it gets light, and the two legs come out- are you okay to walk?” She was concerned about the queen’s leg. Rat bites were nasty things. Between the wound and the infection, it would be difficult for her to make it back to camp.

              “I have to be,” Whitefoot mewed simply, delicately pawing away her tears before carefully rising to her feet. “Cloud, be a dear and help your mother, hm?” Cloudclaw was all too eager to comply, and Briarmask quickly shuffled over to the queen’s other side. Together, the warriors supported her as they made their way back to where Briarmask had split off from Batflight. By now, both of her clanmates were waiting on the sidewalk, bent close together as they exchanged urgent whispers. Two dark heads swiveled towards the trio as they approached.

              “Praise the ancestors,” Batflight sighed as they met them, “we were hoping you two would be here. Shadefur has more news, but let’s talk as we go, the sun will be up soon.” Being the stronger of the three Shadowclanners, Shadefur moved to help Whitefoot, and together with Cloudclaw was able to basically lift her off the ground, taking most of the pressure off her leg. As they wound their way back to their territory, Shadefur filled them in on what he had learned.

              After catching a couple mice for Dotty, Shadefur had asked her about the lack of cats hanging about. To his surprise and horror, the old molly had been confused he didn’t already know. Apparently, a large number of cats had been recruited by that three-legged molly and her bone eatin’ mate, promised hunting rights in the forest if they accomplished some goal for them. Starving in the middle of winter, many cats had agreed. At least twenty, probably more, Shadefur murmured as they approached the final fence, Whitefoot gasping for breath. We need to tell the others about this as soon as we’re back. When Batflight expressed concern for the old molly he snorted. I’ve been trying to get her to come to Shadowclan for a bit. She said to come back and ask again after we handle ‘whatever nasty business is going on now.’

              They went along as fast as they could, what with Whitefoot needing a few breaks. The poor queen was burning with fever and pain, teeth gritted as she gamely tried to keep pace. They thankfully made it back into the swamp before the sun broke the horizon and caught sight of the camp just as it’s rays began to peek through the sparse clouds. Batflight and Briarmask pushed into camp first, greeted by an anxious Snowdrift, stoic Mintfrost, and sleepy Turtlepaw. She gave them all a bright grin, moving quickly out of the way so the Thunderclanners could come in behind her. Cloudclaw didn’t even wait, just bolted straight towards his brother. Snowdrift scrambled forward, and the twins crashed into each other with joyful cries. Thank goodness most everyone is already awake.

              “I thought you were dead!” They wailed at the same time, and Briarmask couldn’t help but laugh at their matching melodramatic tones. Cloudclaw had both forelegs wrapped around Snowdrift’s neck, crushing his brother into his chest as he babbled accusations and praises to the ancestors.

              “Honestly, mom always said you were trouble- thank the stars, and here you are, in Shadow-“

              “Mom!”

              Whitefoot had finally made it into the camp, slowly sliding to the ground besides Shadefur, who was pressed up against the queen in concern. Snowdrift shoved his brother off, hustling to his mother’s side, a worried Mintfrost close behind him. Whitefoot was crying now, a bright smile on her face as she reached towards her son with a shaking paw.

              “Oh, thank the ancestors, I knew your father wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” she purred, rubbing her cheek affectionately against Snowdrift’s shoulder. She switched her gaze to Mintfrost, eyes creasing in happiness. “And don’t worry Mint, I didn’t believe for a second that you’d hurt my boy- oh no, your tail!” The splint was finally off Mintfrost’s leg, but the wound from where her tail had been removed was still swathed in cobwebs, Fernfire and Snowdrift paranoid about any potential infection so close to the deputy’s spine. It was obvious, as she crouched next to her clanmate, that her tail was completely gone.

              “We can worry about my tail later,” Mintfrost mewed drily, nudging Whitefoot as Snowdrift fussed over her wound. “What did you do to your leg?”

              “I was trying to find food and got cornered by some rats.” Whitefoot shuddered, nose crinkling in disgust at the memory. “I fought them off, but one managed to get a bite in. I tried to keep it clean, but Snowy is the healer here, not me or Cloud.” Speaking of, Snowdrift was done with his assessment, now flitting around anxiously as he encouraged Whitefoot to her feet.

              “Come on, mom, let’s get you to the den and patch you up. Fernfire is an expert on rat bites.” Given your average Shadowclan warrior was statistically more likely to be bitten by a rat than any other clan warrior, Shadowclan healers had the treatment of such wounds down to an exact science. Whitefoot would be well taken care of. The fluffy family trooped off to the medicine den, their bright coats sticking out in the dark and dreary camp, murmuring gratitude and blessings to the others as they left. Mintfrost expressed her own sincere thanks before heading off after them, limp noticeable but doing nothing to slow her down, a now awake Turtlepaw close on her heels. The Shadowclanners were left sitting in the clearing, staring after them as snowflakes began to drift from the slowly lightening sky.

              “Well,” Shadefur mewed, “that’s that. Let’s go speak to Rosestar.”

_______________________________________________________________

              “Of course he’s recruited a pack of blood thirsty rogues to do his bidding,” Rosestar whined, slumping further into his nest with a ferocious frown. “Why can’t any of these things go according to our carefully laid plans?” To no one’s surprise, their leader was less than pleased with the news of the Town cats joining forces with Stonestar. He was already in an off mood- apparently, while they were gone finding Whitefoot and Cloudclaw, two Riverclanners had shown up with news that Nightrock had fled to their territory. They too had reported that Stonestar had brought Town cats to Thunderclan, but nobody knew how many until Shadefur had spoken to Dotty- it seems the Thunderclanners themselves were having a hard time keeping track of all the new faces in their territory. Approximately two dozen cats, on top of the dozen odd warriors left in Thunderclan, meant the odds of them making it to the Thunderclan camp without major casualties just got a lot worse. “And I love our Town friends, I do, but they don’t have a sense of honor when it comes to a fight. They’ll go for the throat first and ask questions later, which will force us to do the same.” It will be a miracle if no one dies tonight. Shadefur shuffled his paws before hesitantly speaking up.

              “I know we should add more warriors to our patrol to help combat the new numbers, but honestly, I’m worried that Stonestar will play dirty. He knows we’ll come for him tonight. What if he sends some rogues to our camp to strike while we’re away? We have fifteen kits right now. We’d make the perfect target.” It… was a good point, although a difficult one to consider. Would Stonestar be willing to go to such lengths? Or would he not want to waste fighters on such a task? Was Shadefur paranoid because of his children? Could they afford to take the risk? Rosestar seemed conflicted, tail swishing as he thought.

              “The idea crossed my mind,” he said slowly. “I would be loath to leave the kittens sparsely protected. At the same time, if there is no attack, it means less warriors to defend their clanmates in the fight.” A world-weary sigh. “Let me think. Go get something to eat and take a rest. Batflight, Briarmask, you two are some of our fastest. I want you to go to Windclan here in a little bit and let them know the new information. Tell Houndtooth and Snakepelt I want them ready to head to Riverclan. Those little wet paws said they’d have someone wait at the bridge for our response. I’ll have figured out what I want to do by the time everyone is ready. And send Marshfoot in here when you see her. She should be back from hunting soon.” The deputy had been working tirelessly to get her clanmates prepared for the fight, leading hunting patrol after patrol to make sure they were well-fed and energized. The spotted molly had left around the same time they did that morning, so hopefully she would be back soon. Marshfoot needs her rest too before tonight. As the warriors bid their goodbyes and left the den, Batflight took charge.

              “Alright Shade, go spend time with your babies. I’ll let Dad and Snakepelt know about playing messengers and wait for Marshfoot. Briar, why don’t you go make sure Crow isn’t getting into anything?” Easy outs, which Briarmask and Shadefur appreciated. Nudging her best friend goodbye, Briarmask trotted off towards the warriors’ den, where Crowcall had taken to lurking. The tom was mostly healed, the tenuous infection that had taken a brief hold of his wound and prolonged his stay in the medicine den gone for good. Now, he was insisting on being part of the war party, not just a witness to be delivered, although Rosestar was uncertain on if he should allow him to fight or keep him with Fernfire. With the new information about the rogues, he might get his wish after all, she thought grimly to herself. She couldn’t say she was thrilled at the idea of him going into battle so soon after recovering from such a bad wound, but this was their way of life, and like he said- they had sworn their oaths, and they would honor them.

              Sure enough, Crowcall was sitting outside the den, tail swishing idly as he stared into the distance, lost in thought. Briarmask sidled up to him, putting on a face of mock concern as she drew closer.

              “Everything alright in there? I can practically hear your brain rattling around-“

              “Ha ha, very funny. You shouldn’t make fun of things others find difficult you know,” he joked, snapping out of whatever had distracted him. Crowcall pressed his forehead against hers, and she couldn’t help the way her tail curled up in delight. It was a few weeks of this now, this thing between them, but it still made her heart skip a beat. Pulling back, she took on a more serious look, giving him a quick rundown of what had happened. He seemed pensive as she finished, looking over at the nursery in concern.

              “I agree with Shade,” he murmured lowly. “At the very least, Stonestar knows Rosestar has kittens of his own in the nursery right now. We know he’s a fox heart, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try and divide our forces by sending a group to our camp- he probably wants us bringing as few warriors as possible. Even just the threat is enough to have us torn.” Briarmask hummed in response, leaning into his shoulder.

              “With the amount of cats we’re taking as witnesses and guards, that leaves the three other warriors, the two young apprentices, the three queens, and the two elders in camp. I know that if pressed, Brooksong and Lizardspots could fight, but I’m nervous to count on that.” Houndtooth, Blackear, and Snakepelt would be staying in camp, as they weren’t part of the group that saw Stonestar and Featherfall. The two younger apprentices, Loudpaw and Beetlepaw, would also be staying, as they were only just nine moons and Rosestar didn’t want them in battle. Webpaw and Spiderpaw, however, were only a moon shy of their assessments, and would be coming with the war party. Of the three queens, Brooksong was really the only one who could fight, and the two elders… well, Lizardspots would do it whether he should or not, but Tallstone was half blind and deaf these days. So, if Stonestar sent a few rogues with no qualms about killing… Could he afford to send them? Could they afford to take the chance?

              “It’ll be up to Rosestar and Marshfoot, I suppose,” Crowcall mused, watching as said deputy ducked into the leader’s den, having just been led back into camp by Batflight. “Well, no use worrying about it. Come on, let’s get something to eat.” Briarmask spent the next little bit eating quietly with Crowcall, trying not to let the somber air of the camp affect her. It was jarring to see her clanmates, usually joking or lounging, seem so tense and solemn. Families and friends were gathered all around the camp. Frogthroat, Lizardspots, and Shadefur were sitting outside the nursery with the queens, watching the kittens play and speaking quietly to each other. Batflight and Houndtooth were sharing tongues on one of the logs the lined the camp, for once not huffing or bickering. Spiderpaw and Webpaw were eating with their grandparents, nodding seriously to the instructions and advice the older cats imparted, last minute tips they hoped would keep their grandsons safe should worse come to worst. Loudpaw and Beetlepaw were curled up near their den with Turtlepaw, whom they seemed to have adopted as their own. Their mother, Snakepelt, groomed their ears- she had been relieved when Rosestar asked her to stay behind, wanting to keep an eye on her children. Her mate, Dampwhisker, had died not long after they were born. Snakepelt was rarely away from her children after that, and Loudpaw and Beetlepaw didn’t deserve to lose their mother at such a young age. Hopefully, they would be safe in camp, if Stonestar didn’t try his luck…

              It wasn’t a pleasant scene, and Briarmask was all too eager to get out of the oppressive atmosphere, not wanting to think about who she had lost, who else she might lose. It was a relief when Rosestar and Marshfoot emerged, looking tired. Briarmask didn’t envy them- she didn’t know if she could handle having the weight of lives on her shoulders like they did. She and Crowcall dipped their heads as the two approached, eager to hear their decision.

              “I have decided to throw myself on the mercy of the other leaders,” Rosestar said drily. It was a testament to how much he valued the safety of the kits, queens, and elders, seeing as he would typically rather eat crowfood than ask another clan for help. He much more enjoyed offering favors and having the other leaders depend on him instead. “It’s simply too much of a risk to bring another warrior or two. I’m sure Shalestar in particular will have no problem bringing more cats. She’s been baying for blood this whole time. Looks like she’ll have the fight she’s been itching for.” Marshfoot nodded.

              “There are simply too many kits to risk even one cat getting past our defenses. If you could collect Batflight and head out now, you should be back in enough time to rest before tonight. Try not to tire yourselves out too much, but, well- be quick.” Briarmask felt like she could sprint there and back, the realization that this was really happening, that by this time tomorrow the fates of many would be decided, sending energy sparking through her limbs. Bidding a quick goodbye, she hustled over to where Batflight and Houndtooth were, summoning Batflight with a jerk of her head. Houndtooth watched reluctantly as his daughter trotted over to her friend, fixing both mollies with a firm look.

              “Be careful, and don’t dally. It’s not good to be out alone right now. There’s smoke in the air, it feels.” Briarmask was tempted to tease, but the atmosphere in the camp was sucking all the humor out of her. Smoke in the air indeed. Instead, she and Batty reassured him that they would watch out of for each other and graced him with affectionate licks before heading out, his familiar grumbles trailing after them.

________________________________________________________________

              Briarmask didn’t exactly mind Windclan territory, but it was a bit… exposed for her tastes. And gorse and heather weren’t exactly fun to forge your way through, which meant they had to follow rabbit trail and other little paths through the dense growth in order to get around. Still, it was better than the barren expanses of short, spiky grass. There was truly no way to hide there, not with their dark coats. Makes sense that most Windclan cats are pale colors. Cream, light brown, and pale gray seemed to be the predominant coats present in Windclan, helping the lean warriors sneak up on their flighty prey.  And, it seems, other cats.

              As if her thoughts had summoned them, three Windclanners suddenly appeared over the crest in front of her and Batflight. They quickly made their way down to the Shadowclanners, who kept their faces neutral and their posture relaxed. While the three clans were in an alliance at the moment and they wouldn’t be chased out, it was best to be as friendly as possible. No warrior liked outsiders in their territory, after all.

              “Well met. I’m guessing you have business with Shalestar?” The patrol leader, a brown tabby tom, greeted without preamble. At their nods, he cast a glance at one of his companions. “Kiteclaw, run ahead and let Shalestar know we’re coming.” The molly took off without a word, and the tom beckoned Briarmask and Batflight to follow him. He and the other warrior took off at what barely qualified as a lope for them, but was more of a run for the two mollies. By the time they arrived at the Windclan camp, Briarmask was struggling to hide how much the trip had affected her. Batflight didn’t seem as bothered, however, which caused Briarmask to shoot her a dirty look. Batty caught it, giving her friend a wicked grin.

              “You need to eat more,” the black molly teased as they were escorted into the camp entrance. “You’ll never be a healthy, strong warrior with your dining habits.” Another glare.

              “It’s Leafbare, if you didn’t notice,” Briarmask snipped under her breath, not wanting the Windclanner’s to overhear. Although, with their bat ears, it probably couldn’t be helped. Thankfully, Shalestar was waiting for them in the camp clearing, accompanied by Palesky, Gorsestorm, and Teaselpaw. Briarmask offered them all a respectful nod.

              “Greetings, Shalestar. We come with more information. Have you been visited by Riverclan yet today?” The gray leader’s ear twitched.

              “Yes, a few hours ago. They said Stonestar has recruited rogues to help him fight. Have you learned something else?”

              “Yes- a trip to the Town this morning revealed that approximately two dozen Town cats have been promised hunting rights in the territories if they aid Stonestar.” Shalestar’s eyes grew wide, mind obviously spinning as she digested the news. Teaselpaw looked almost frightened, shooting an uncertain look at Gorsestorm besides her. Briarmask cleared her throat before continuing. “It would seem that puts the opposition at approximately three dozen. The added complication is that the Town cats will not hesitate to use deadly force in a fight. We will need to proceed with extreme caution.” Shalestar lashed her tail.

              “Of course, there would be last minute complications. Did Rosestar have any propositions?” A moment.

              “Well… Rosestar is of the opinion that we need to add more warriors to our party in order to combat the threat. Unfortunately, doing so would put Shadowclan in a potentially hazardous position. We are the smallest clan right now, and with the number of fighters and witnesses we promised will only leave three warriors behind to guard our camp. Rosestar worries for the safety of the kits and elders should Stonestar decide to send fighters to our camp, seeing as we share a border and he knows Rosestar, at least, has kittens at the moment, not even accounting for the other- well. Dozen.” Teaselpaw and Palesky looked horrified at the thought of kits being harmed, but Shalestar and Gorsestorm wore matching grim expressions.

              “Just having that be a possibility is enough for Stonestar to benefit from- he knows you can’t take the risk.” Gorsestorm said. “I also wouldn’t put it past him.”

              “Rosestar humbly asks that Windclan and Riverclan help us in this regard, given our differing situations. We have nine warriors, five of whom are critical witnesses, and the two apprentices alongside Fernfire, Snowdrift, Mintfrost, and Teaselpaw.” Worsening their situation was the fact that most of their available fighters were also witnesses for the Trial. Worse came to worst, they would only need to provide two, but that still left them with only nine fighters and six cats to protect on the way to camp. “He acknowledges the plan was for Windclan to provide eleven fighters as well, but asks that you consider bringing more, for the safety of all involved.”

              Shalestar didn’t need much convincing.

              “I’ll bring thirteen warriors, in addition to myself and Palesky. Windclan is blessed to have many full warriors at this time. Seeing as there’s barely any risk to our camp, we can afford to leave only one guard. Sound agreeable?” Briarmask could have yowled her relief to the stars, but managed to keep it to a grateful nod, Batflight offering her own sincere thanks. So, fifteen from Windclan, technically eleven from Shadowclan, if Riverclan agreed to bring more… that would put the numbers about even, which, while not great, was a vast improvement. Before, it seemed they would have outnumbered Thunderclan two to one, an excellent way to ensure little bloodshed. Now they could only hope that the three clans together would be enough to survive the night.

                Ancestors protect us.

              “Excellent,” Shalestar declared, rising to her feet. “You may rest here for a moment if you wish, but I understand if you’d like to return home. My thanks for the new information, and tell Rosestar not to worry about favors.” With that, she turned and stalked off towards her den, a somber Gorsestorm and worried Palesky right on her heels.

              “Shalestar, what about Little…” The deputy’s words trailed off as they got further away, leaving Briarmask and Batflight with a worried Teaselpaw. The apprentice jerked her head towards one of the many tunnels in the camp.

              “Come on,” she mewed. “I’ll give you some travelling herbs for your trip back.” Obediently the mollies trotted after her, Briarmask curious to see what a Windclan den looked like. How odd, for cats to live like rabbits. Despite her initial assumption that the under ground den would be claustrophobic, it was actually quite cozy. Just enough light came in from the tunnel to see what it looked like and kept it from feeling too oppressive. Teaselpaw had them sit near the entrance as she fussed with some leaves that were stored in nooks carved into the walls. So basically like Fernfire’s den, just with less bugs. “Here,” the apprentice mewed, slightly muffled by the leaves in her mouth, “I’m not giving you a lot so you can still rest, but this should help make the return trip easier.” While the taste of travelling herbs were never pleasant, Briarmask and Batflight gratefully choked them down. They could use all the help they could get.

              “Forgive me if this is prying,” Batflight mewed, staying crouched so she could make direct eye contact with the short apprentice, “but I know Windclan has kits as well. The deputy’s, no less. Is Shalestar not concerned for their safety?” Oh, yeah, that was a good point. Teaselpaw glanced down before speaking hesitantly.

              “Well, Shalestar wasn’t planning on keeping them in the camp,” she mewed. “We were gonna move Littlestream, the kits, the elders, and the most important herbs to a… safer location. So even if someone comes to our camp, they won’t find anything important. Not that I expect any rogues or Thunderclanner’s to really know how to find us.” And that was true- Shadowclan was more at risk because there had been enough Town cats at their camp before, meaning that an ill intentioned rogue could probably figure out how to get there based on their own knowledge or simply asking around. But what Town cat had ever been to the moor?

              “That’s good then,” Briarmask said, stretching out with a yawn. “At least that’s one less thing to worry about. Thanks for the herbs, Teasel, but we should probably get going. See you tonight, alright?” The poor cream molly looked even more anxious at that but nodded gamely. Briarmask gave her an affectionate bump before leading Batflight out of the den, the two mollies stopping to bid their goodbyes to the patrol leader before heading out. Once back out onto the short turf, Batflight turned to her with a wicked grin.

              “Wanna race home?”

              “Oh, don’t even start.”

________________________________________________________________

              They made it home about mid-morning, happy to have made good time. The mood of the camp seemed to have brightened with the rising sun. Now, cats were bantering and bragging, beginning to get themselves steeled for tonight. Even Mintfrost was lounging in front of the nursery, regaling the kits with a tale of the mighty founder of her clan, Thunderstar himself, and how he once drove a bear, some legendary forest creature, out of his territory. It was funny, to see the normally blank faced molly so animated, the kittens piled before her and listening with rapt attention. It seemed the usual babysitters welcomed the break. Frogthroat and Brooksong were gone, presumably in the nursery, and Tulip was speaking quietly with Shadefur near the warrior’s den. Rosestar was lounging with Pinenose atop the log that their den was under, looking out over the clan with a proud gaze. He perked up when he saw the two mollies enter camp, waving them over with his bright tail.

              “Not even going to sit up and greet us, uncle?” Briarmask mewed, mock offended as they came to a stop in front of the log. Rosestar flicked his ear dismissively.

              “I’m conserving all my energy for tonight- don’t question the wisdom of your leader or I’ll put you on tick duty. Now, what did Shalestar say?” He was pleased with the news they had brought, and was even more pleased when Houndtooth and Snakepelt arrived while they were still talking, bearing good news of their own.

              “Oakstar has pledged every Riverclanner of fighting age,” Snakepelt said, relief coloring her tone. “He said he would ask Windclan to take his three elders, since they are spry enough to make a trek to the moor. That way he doesn’t have to leave a guard at camp. If for whatever reason Shalestar refuses, the elders said they would hide elsewhere on the territory, but I don’t see Windclan having a problem with it.” Houndtooth let out one of his ferocious huffs.

              “Honestly, she better not,” he griped. “One more warrior can make the difference between life and death, especially with such an even match.” Batflight opened her mouth, ready to chastise him for his negativity, but Rosestar merely grinned.

              “Ah, but we have what those rogues do not, and that will be what saves us in the end.” He was met with a variety of looks, ranging from amused to deadpan.

              “Honor?”

              “The Code?”

              “Vengeance?”

              “The power of friendship?”

              “No,” he retorted, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Literally years of dedicated fighting skill. Honestly, you expect us to be bested by a pack of rogues with no coordination or professional instruction? Disgraceful.” Briarmask laughed at that, feeling a little better about the situation. Yes, tonight would be dangerous, and yeah, death was a possibility. But that was the life of a warrior. What mattered was that tonight, they would honor their Code and their ancestors, and justice would be delivered. The spirits of those murdered would be released, and peace would finally return to the territories.

              Hopefully.

              The clan seemed to all be in camp together now, and after Mintfrost finished her story, old Tallstone came out and told them all stories of Shadowclan’s founding, the way Shadowstar found their clan, how different heroes throughout history had fought successfully against impossible odds, even speaking of the battle that lead to Rosestar becoming leader of Shadowclan.

              “Long ago, before many of you here were born-“

              “Tallstone, I am not that old-“              

              “- there was a fierce war waged between Shadowclan and a group of rogues who desired parts of our territory for themselves. Our leader then, Ivystar, had plotted our attack well. She had sent out trackers who found where the rogues had made camp and decided to strike on the night of the new moon, when our skills would be most deadly. However, there was one thing that nobody had accounted for. These rogues had in their employ a dog.” Tallstone paused dramatically, allowing for the appropriate gasps and murmurs of disbelief to fade before continuing. “They had struck a deal with the beast to fight for them, and when Shadowclan launched their attack, the dog was waiting. It howled like a creature from the darkest pits between the stars, rushing to attack young Damppaw, when Ivystar leapt to intercept the assault. In doing so, she saved her apprentice, but lost her own life. It was her final one, and as her warriors watched her fall, many began to despair.” Loudpaw and Beetlepaw perked up at the brief mention of their father, Snakepelt’s eyes glinting with an affectionate grief. “But then, the deputy, Roseheart, threw himself over the leader’s body and challenged the dog before all the gathered cats. The fighting paused, as everyone waited to see how he would defeat such a deadly opponent.” Rosestar was now looking both embarrassed and uncomfortable, shuffling next to Pinenose as cats turned to shoot him awed and disbelieving looks. Briarmask had briefly heard the story before, of course, but never in such… dramatic detail, and she couldn’t help but feel a different kind of respect for her goofy uncle. “Miraculously, when the dog lunged, Roseheart sprung straight into the air, landing on its face and slashing at its eyes with wicked blows. The dog, blinded, howled miserably, taking off into the darkness towards the Town. The rogues, terrified at such a show of strength, immediately followed after it. Victory secured, Roseheart led his clanmates back home, carrying Ivystar’s body himself, where they honored both her sacrifice and the success of our new leader.” Story finished, cats began to jokingly cry out Rosestar’s name, his kittens leaping up to tug at his ears in their excitement.

              “Alright you lot,” the pointed tom called, wincing as Sparkkit gave a particularly harsh tug. “I appreciate an ego boost as much as everyone, but don’t let Tallstone convince you such an act is something extraordinary. I know, in similar circumstances, any one of you could rise to the challenge for the protection of this clan.” Finally getting his son to settle, Rosestar drew himself up and cleared his throat. “It is now just after sunhigh. I expect you all to eat and rest now, as this evening, when the sun sets, we make for Fourtrees. Enjoy your time together, and I pray we may all have these happy days together in the future.” Sobering, the gathered cats moved to follow orders. Instead of splitting off as they had earlier, they now clustered together as one clan, passing out food and weaving around each other in a sad parallel to Lizardspot’s retirement ceremony. Some of them might fall tonight. This might be the last chance to share a meal and time together. As Briarmask sat with her friends- leaning into Crowcall, Batty brushing her other side, Shadefur and Brooksong in a bragging contest about their respective kits, Tulip hesitantly offering her own rebuttal, the passel of kittens running throughout the crowd and the three little ones sleeping against their mother’s side- watched her family from across the clearing- Rosestar playing with his kittens, Pinenose lounging nearby, Houndtooth lecturing the apprentices- listened to her clanmates around her- Blackear reminiscing with Bluebird about their son and daughter, Snakepelt laughing as Loudpaw and Beetlepaw offered their mentors some cheek, Browntail and Clayfang mock outraged in return, Marshnose pressuring Frogthroat to name his son after her as Tallstone competed against her bid, Lizardspots rolling his eyes- gaze catching the Thunderclanners spread out amongst her clanmates- Fernfire fussing as he went to each cat and checked on their health- and her chest tightened at the thought of any one of them dying.

              Ancestors please, she pleaded desperately. Watch over us tonight.

________________________________________________________________

              Evening came much too swiftly.

              Briarmask stood with the rest of the witnesses and war party, watching as Rosestar spoke quietly to Lizardspots and Fernfire. The three queens, two elders, the three guards, and Whitefoot stood in the clearing, a mixture of determined and anxious. The kittens had been bundled away, and everyone had already bid their goodbyes- once Rosestar finished with his final instructions, they would be on their way to Fourtrees. The air was practically crackling with a static tension as Rosestar turned to face his warriors, Fernfire serious besides him.

              “Brothers and sisters of the marsh and pines,” he addressed them formally, “our friends of oak and overgrowth, we face a battle tonight, the likes of which these territories have not seen in generations, and ancestors willing, will never see again. While the stakes are high, and the odds are close, I am confident in not only our ability to succeed in our goal, but to triumph.” Yowls and caterwauls rung out as the warriors responded, and Rosestar gave them a moment before he continued. “We go now to fight, not just to protect Shadowclan, but to protect all clans, to render justice and bring peace to our lands once more. And, should the worst happen, and any of us fall tonight, I want you all to know it has been an honor to not only be your leader, but a clanmate to all of you. I ask now for the ancestors blessing upon us, as we go to fight in their name.” Stone faced, Fernfire stepped forward.

              “I ask now for Starclan’s blessing upon each and every one of you. May your strikes be true, your feet be swift, and your courage never fail. Should you fall tonight, may the ancestors welcome you with the honor you deserve. By their blessing, may we all live to see the dawn tomorrow.” With that, he moved through the crowd, each cat bending so that he might press his nose to their forehead, murmuring blessings as he went. Snowdrift stepped forward to bless his own clanmates. By the time they finished, the camp was awash in a golden glow. Rosestar raised his tail, fur burning like fire in the evening light, and called his warriors to him.

              “Shadowclan! We go now, for justice and glory!” And with that he raced out of camp, his warriors streaming behind him like a dark river, until only those left behind sat in the camp clearing, each one fervently praying for the same thing.

                Please, let them come home safe.

First / Prev / Next

[overgrowth-wc]

Tensions are rising, but there's relief to be found in what normalcy remains. Also, a long awaited reunion. 

              Piketail slowly crept through the trees, ear pricked and head constantly swiveling. In the early hour before dawn, the small forest was awash in shadows. The moon had already set, and thus only what scant starlight remained lit his path as he picked his way forward. Each step crunched softly in the freshly fallen snow. He needed to be careful- he knew for a fact that he was being followed. The only problem was that Piketail didn’t know where his pursuer was. Every noise made his ear twitch towards it, mouth opening to taste the air, but no, it was always just the natural sounds of the forest, no hint of danger on the cold breeze. Still on edge, he continued making his way forward. All he needed to do was make it to the tree line before-

              A weight slammed into Piketail, on his left side, of course, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him to the ground. The gray tom tried to twist, sink his teeth into his assailant, but the other cat had him by the scruff now. Piketail’s head was forced into the freezing leaf litter, debris entering his mouth as he spat and snarled, but the Riverclanner couldn’t help but freeze himself when he felt claws prick at the base of his neck. Slumping in defeat, he let out a sigh, reaching up to tap the other cat’s leg with a sheathed forepaw. Immediately he was released, and Piketail shoved himself to his feet. He then turned, puffed up with pride, to an equally excited Littlepaw.

              “Excellent work!” Piketail mewed, eye slitting affectionately as Littlepaw beamed. “I had no idea you were there. You’ve really come a long way with this- I think you could pass any assessment now.” And that was certainly true. Piketail had dedicated all his spare time to making sure Littlepaw’s skills were up to standard. The golden tom had improved dramatically in his stealth stalking, in no small part thanks to Piketail sharing tips with him that he had learned from Briarmask, like using different plants to disguise your scent. While maybe not the most important skill for a Riverclanner to have, Piketail wanted to make sure that at least one warrior in the clan could make an excellent spy or information gatherer, especially in light of everything going on. Littlepaw had also come up to par with his fighting skills. While he may not ever be Riverclan’s strongest warrior, he could certainly hold his own now, which was really all that mattered. His apprentice had always been a bit hesitant in his spars, seeming reluctant to hurt an ally, but had thrown himself into battle training after the attack on Piketail and Splashpaw. He understood now that he needed to sometimes hurt someone to prevent someone else from getting hurt, a harsh but necessary lesson. With this most recent success, Piketail was confident in Littlepaw’s ability to become a warrior. He would speak to Oakstar about scheduling his assessments as soon as possible.

              Maybe on the way back from meeting the other leaders.

              Piketail had been nervous when he approached Oakstar about that first meeting with Rosestar and Shalestar. Yes, he had told Oakstar briefly about what was going on, but had been vague about how frequently he was meeting the others, as well as only telling his leader what he was positive of. For a while, that had been very little- to then come out of the blue with the news of Stonestar, who had been, well, maybe not a friend, but definitely not an enemy to Riverclan for most of Oakstar’s reign, left Piketail anxious about Oakstar’s reaction. And it had been a somewhat well-founded anxiety, as Oakstar had scoffed at the news. Coppertail, sitting beside him, had been a little more open to the idea- his opinion of Stonestar had sunk after the incident at the Gathering with Softgaze. But Splashpaw had been a huge help, laying out the evidence so systematically and thoroughly one would think he had attended all the meetings and witnessed all the events himself. While not entirely convinced, it had been enough to get Oakstar to agree to meet with the other leaders, who were then successful in fully swaying the old tom. The news about Fernfire’s attack had only confirmed everything, and now Oakstar was furious. Thankfully that fury had been tempered into focus, although everything was still tense.

              Hopefully, the meeting this morning would ease some of that tension. The two Windclan warriors that had brought the news of the meeting had informed Oakstar that Shalestar, Rosestar, and Mintfrost, the de facto Thunderclan representative, believed they had enough evidence for a concrete case. Now the only issue was preparing and having a backup plan for when things inevitably went wrong. Oakstar had asked Piketail to accompany him to the meeting, so the gray warrior would be leaving camp with his leader and deputy here soon. But before that he had wanted to test Littlepaw one last time, and was glad that he had done so. Littlepaw was ready to become a warrior, and he’d have the chance to make the case for it later today.

              Littlepaw bounced alongside Piketail all the way back to camp, giving his mentor an affectionate headbutt as they arrived in the clearing. He then took off for the medicine den. Thank the ancestors, the borage that Rosestar had delivered to Oakstar was working wonders, not just for Goldenpaw, but for the other sick cats as well. The elders were already back in their den, Pebblefoot on the mend, and Goldenpaw starting to perform light duties, although she had been dismayed to learn how long she had been sick. The moon she had spent in the medicine den set her training back, which could possibly delay her warrior’s ceremony. Goldenpaw had been quiet since she first learned of the possibility, following Splashpaw’s instructions to the letter, with no snarking or biting remarks to be heard. Littlepaw had suggested that maybe the fever had fried her brain, which Splashpaw scoffed at, before announcing in a superior tone that the fever had actually just been all of Goldenpaw’s repressed anger fighting its way out of her system, leaving a more docile apprentice behind. In Piketail’s opinion, almost dying and being completely at the mercy of a cat you had picked on was an incredibly humbling experience. Goldenpaw had also been, for the first time in her life, the sole object of her mother’s attention, which might have done something to soothe the hurt the young molly felt. It also seemed to have made her realize that maybe she didn’t want to be the center of Dawnface’s world, as the pale-yellow molly was a first-class fusser. Hopefully, Goldenpaw had learned a lot from her experience being ill. In the meanwhile, she was being much nicer to Littlepaw, who in return had promised to do everything he could to help her catch up in training. We have to get our names together, and I don’t want to wait, he declared, and Piketail had seen the way Goldenpaw straightened up at the announcement, both touched and motivated. Goldenpaw was a model apprentice, anyway- a week or so of practice and she would more than likely make the cut. Although, it would be interesting to see what her third assessment would be…

              Shaking himself from his wandering thoughts, Piketail paused, unsure of what to do. There was no one for him to go and see, as the only cat he would visit would be Splashpaw, who was no doubt asleep at this hour. He decided to get something small to eat to pass the time waiting for Oakstar. It would be a bit before the sun broke the horizon and they would head out, so he could finally take a breather.

________________________________________________________________

              Piketail walked stoically a few steps besides and behind Oakstar, mildly uncomfortable that he was walking in Coppertail’s usual position. Typically, the deputy would walk to the right and a step behind the leader as a mark of respect and a show of their own authority. However, due to Piketail only having his right eye, Oakstar had bid him walk on the right so he couldn’t be unexpectedly blindsided. Coppertail seemed unbothered, merely shifting to walk on the leader’s left, but Piketail worried about the image it presented for the other clans. He didn’t want to overstep any bounds, after all, but practicality was winning out over tradition in this case. Piketail knew he was focusing on something stupid to not think about what he was actually nervous about, but it was the easier option. This meeting would determine what happened at the Gathering occurring a little less than a week from now, which would in turn determine how justice was delivered. It felt surreal, that it was all finally coming to an end, but that nebulous end was terrifying in its lack of predictability. Would anyone else die? Get hurt? If they really had to confront Stonestar in the Thunderclan camp, fighting was almost a guarantee… these thoughts spun round and round in his head, and abruptly Piketail found himself at a halt, peering out over the edge of the Fourtrees hollow.

              Shalestar was already there, sitting in her typical relaxed way. Instead of her deputy, one of the warriors from yesterday, the golden-brown tabby tom, was sitting with her instead. Teaselpaw sat on her other side, trying not to look nervous. Oakstar quickly made his way down the slope, impressive for his age, nodding congenially to Shalestar as they came to a stop in front of her. The gray leader was immediately on her feet, already starting to walk towards Shadowclan territory as she returned the nod.

              “Well met, Oakstar. Let’s get going.” And that was that. The six cats trooped along in silence, occasionally shooting each other glances but not speaking. Teaselpaw offered Piketail a smile, which he returned as warmly as he could. When they arrived on the Shadowclan border the sun was just over the horizon, its rays offering a bit of warmth and illuminating their clouded breath. Thankfully, there was already cats waiting for them across the border- a familiar crew, Piketail was surprised to realize. Marshfoot, Briarmask, and Batflight were sitting just inside the tree line, barely visible in the shadows. They beckoned the approaching party across with their tails, seemingly just as reluctant to break the perfect silence. Every noise seemed amplified in the still morning, which was a good thing, because it made it perfectly clear there were no approaching cars. The Windclan party crossed first, then the Riverclanners, and they stopped for barely a moment to exchange greetings with the Shadowclan warriors before they were off at a trot towards the Shadowclan camp. Seems everybody is anxious to get this over with.

              Piketail had never been to the Shadowclan camp, never been in the territory, and realized with a jolt that this is where he wanted to live. The gray warrior took in his surroundings with a curious eye, and was happy to realize that… he really didn’t mind it. The tall pine trees, a far cry from the mostly rolling grasses of Riverclan territory, felt sheltering instead of claustrophobic. The frozen ground squished in some places, familiar to him in a comforting way. The air smelt fresh and sharp, the pine needles adding an almost spicy hint to the air, and yes, Piketail could imagine himself hunting in these woods, slipping through these shadows, and being quite happy with it. Maybe he would get a chance to speak with Rosestar today. And his siblings as well. He couldn’t help but shoot glances at Marshfoot, his sister, and could feel himself almost vibrating with the need to tell her. She looks like ma, he realized, in the shape of her face and the way she carried herself. Piketail’s heart squeezed in his chest, but it was a good kind of squeeze. Grayfeather was still here, in Marshfoot’s face and his memories, and who knows, maybe he would see their mother in Frogthroat as well. Guess we’ll find out, he mused, as they had now arrived at the Shadowclan camp.

              One by one the cats ducked through the thorn tunnel, emerging into a surprisingly busy clearing. A patrol was waiting for them to move so they could leave. Kittens were starting to tumble out of the nursery. A pack of about five apprentices, including a shockingly bright, mostly white calico, who stood out amongst her darker peers, were sparring in a group off to the side. A young warrior was nodding seriously to something an elder was telling him as they ate together near one of the dens. It was almost chaotic, but warm in a way Piketail wasn’t expecting. From the bustle Rosestar emerged, looking more serious than Piketail had ever seen him. Accompanying him, and Piketail’s stomach dropped, was Lizardspots, the former deputy looking stoic. The pointed ginger tom nodded his greetings to them, looking them over silently for a moment.

              “Well,” he mewed, “seems like there’s too many of us to cram into the medicine den. We’ll just have to meet out here in the clearing. The clan already knows what’s going on, so no worries about keeping secrets.” With that Rosestar and Lizardspots led them over to what was assumedly the medicine den, an antsy Fernfire pacing outside of it. He slipped inside at their approach, and Rosestar bid them all to sit in a tight circle, leaving just enough room for their Thunderclan compatriots. It was quite the group- Rosestar, Lizardspots, Marshfoot, Briarmask, Piketail, Oakstar, Coppertail, Gorsestorm, Shalestar, and Teaselpaw, soon joined by Fernfire and Snowdrift, who were supporting a limping Mintfrost between them. To her credit, the Thunderclan molly betrayed no hint of pain or discomfort, simply easing herself to the ground between the two medicine cats.

              “My apologies,” she rasped. “I’m afraid I can’t put much pressure on my hip yet, so laying down it is.” Fernfire snorted. Sitting next to the reclined deputy, he was barely taller than her.

              “Don’t worry,” he said, “they’d have to look down to see me anyway. At least I have company.” Rosestar snorted. The medicine cat then seemed to remember something, hustling back over to his den and emerging quickly thereafter with a… pinecone?

              “Here,” Fernfire mewed, dropping the cone before him. “There’s a lot of us here, so whoever is holding the cone gets to speak. Who would like to start?” Shalestar immediately lifted a paw, and Fernfire batted the cone over to her. Pinning it beneath her foot, the gray leader cleared her throat.

              “Let’s get right to it. Bluetail was able to meet Nightrock last night, but only briefly. He had some bad news.” Shalestar shot the Thunderclanner’s a careful look. “Stonestar has told the clan that Mintfrost attacked Snowdrift and killed him on Shadowclan territory, and that he lost a life escaping. He also said that her apprentice is missing, either dead or an accomplice. The entire clan is in an uproar. Snowdrift’s mother and brother did not believe the news and have since disappeared. Nightrock was unsure of where they have gone.” Piketail’s gaze immediately shot to Snowdrift, who looked like he was going to be sick. The same nausea stirred in his own gut. Disappeared? “Stonestar also used Gorsestorm’s appearance in the territory to further support his own lies. He has told Thunderclan that I am responsible for Falconstar’s death and greedy for territory, Rosestar is aiding Mintfrost in return for hunting rights, and that Oakstar is at least complicit, if not actively aiding, these efforts. Apparently, we all seek to depose the medicine cats and solidify our own rule over the forest unchallenged. Because Thunderclan will not join us, we will attempt to take their territory by force.” Piketail felt like the ground was swaying under his feet. Stonestar was blaming all of this on the other clans? Saying they wanted to… exterminate Thunderclan? And Thunderclan believed it? Well, he thought uncomfortably, shooting the devastated Snowdrift another glance, not all of them.

              Rosestar cleared his throat, lifting a paw in a silent request. Shalestar obligingly knocked the cone to him.

              “They probably fled to the Town, seeing as neither we, nor, I’m assuming, Riverclan, have seen or scented them on our territory.” A confirmation from Oakstar. “If you would like, I can send a patrol into the Town to try and find them.” He batted the cone over to Snowdrift, who fumbled it for a moment before replying.

              “I would be forever in your debt,” he said, voice cracking only slightly. He cleared his throat. “We assumed Stonestar would lie to Thunderclan. I think we can also safely say that they will not be attending the Gathering this week.” The snowy tom fell silent. They were all thinking the same thing, anyway. This means we have to go to the Thunderclan camp. Mintfrost reached out and gently took the cone from Snowdrift.

              “Showing up with the parties from each clan necessary for the trial will be seen as an act of war. We must come up with an approach that will hopefully prevent as much bloodshed as possible.” And really, they were stuck between a badger and a dog. The law required all witnesses be present to give testimony, as well as leaders, deputies, and medicine cats, which meant that… almost twenty cats from the three other clans would have to be there. To Thunderclan, it would seem like Stonestar was telling the truth. Unless-

              Before he really realized what he was doing, Piketail was raising a paw for the cone, and a moment later was holding it in place in front of him. Nervously, he darted looks at the gathered cats, all looking at him expectantly. Stars, he hated being stared at. Especially by his father, who was looking at him with barely concealed interest.

              “I agree that all of us simply showing up at the Thunderclan camp will go poorly. Unfortunately, we all must be there. But Thunderclan thinks Snowdrift is dead, right? What if we sent Snowdrift with a small group of cats into the camp? Him being alive will at least be enough to cast doubt on Stonestar’s story, and the clan will believe what he has to say. Right?” He was looking at Snowdrift now, and was relieved to see the tom nodding. Before the medicine cat could even ask, Piketail hit the cone towards him, happy to no longer be the center of everyone’s attention.

              “That might work- providing, of course, we can make it to the camp without any issues.” True, Stonestar might have patrols waiting for us. He knows we’ll have to come after him on the Gathering night. “But I agree that if I can speak to my clanmates, I can get them to listen.” Oakstar waved his tail for the cone, which was quickly provided.

              “Never in all my years did I think it would come to this, but alas, these are the times we live in,” the grizzled tom mewed. “I believe our best approach would be to have additional warriors, besides our witnesses. We meet at Fourtrees and moved together towards the Thunderclan camp. That way, if we run into any ambushes or patrols, the witnesses can continue to the camp, while the other warriors hold off the attackers. Once we are near the camp, we can send Snowdrift ahead with a few warriors. Ancestor’s willing, that will be enough to keep fighting out of the camp.” A solemn silence fell over the group. Essentially, they were planning an invasion of Thunderclan. It would be bloody. Cats could die, especially if Thunderclan thought the other clans sought to destroy them. After a few moments, Rosestar heaved a great sigh, which Oakstar took as a sign to once more pass the cone.

              “Alright. We pick our patrols. We collect our witnesses. We meet at Fourtrees, same as any Gathering night, then fight our way to the Thunderclan camp where we render justice for the atrocities committed. Great. One last question- what do we do about Featherfall? I’m assuming your little Thunderclan informant would have mentioned that his leader’s mate was back from the dead if he was aware of it. If she’s not there for the trial, how are we going to bring her to justice?” There was a pause. Marshfoot reached out and snagged the cone.

              “The question is, is Featherfall still a clan cat? If she is, the laws are clear. We’ll have to find her and drag her to stand trial at next moon’s Gathering, provided she is not in the Thunderclan camp for this one. If she’s not, well. Then we can deal with her like any other rogue.” The spotted molly shot Mintfrost an apologetic glance, but her fellow deputy remained stoic. And as harsh as it was, Marshfoot was right. If Featherfall was no longer to be considered a clan cat, then she was owed no trial. The clans could simply deal with her as they saw fit. Shalestar waved for and received the cone.

              “How many winters has it been since Featherfall went to the twolegs? I know it happened before I was born. And do we know how old Featherfall was when she was taken?” The gray leader cast a questioning glance at Mintfrost, who answered the prompt.

              “It was when I was a kit, so… seven, eight winters? And she had been a warrior for a few seasons.” Shalestar nodded, brow furrowed in thought.

              “So Featherfall has been out of the clan longer than she was in it. I would say that means she is no longer a clan cat.” Oakstar let out a thoughtful hum, the cone soon sitting in front of him.

              “I would be more cautious than that. I have always been of the opinion that once a clan cat, always a clan cat. Featherfall was a full warrior who served her clan for several seasons before tragedy took her away. I would say she is owed a trial, despite her absence.” Rosestar was nodding, and Mintfrost looked slightly relieved, voicing her own agreement. Shalestar looked put out, her expression almost pouting, which Piketail couldn’t help but give a weak smile at. “I understand you want a swift distribution of justice,” Oakstar said gently to Shalestar, “but we cannot circumvent the law for our own desires. That path only leads to injustice of its own.” The Windclan leader, now looking more determined than annoyed, nodded. Besides her, Gorsestorm motioned for the cone.

              “Worse comes to worst, I spent some time in the Town and know a lot of her haunts. I would be able to help a search party find and detain her for trial.” Rosestar rumbled happily, waving a paw.

              “There we go,” he purred, rolling the cone under his paw. “We should sort out our problems like this more often, if we can come up with solutions so easily. Now, is there anything else that we would like to discuss?” Mintfrost cleared her throat.

              “I can go over the best way to approach the camp with the leaders. I understand this is a necessary evil now, but I trust you all not to use this information against us in the future, and to not disseminate this information too loosely among your warriors.” The other leaders nodded, Rosestar rising to his feet.

              “Well then!” He announced. “Let us retire to my den. The rest of you, feel free to mingle with my warriors. We will all need to get along with each other, at least for the next week.” With that, the leaders, along with a slow but steady Mintfrost, went off to Rosestar’s den. The rest of the assembled cats were left looking at each other. Briarmask cleared her throat, shooting Piketail a glance before homing in on Teaselpaw.

              “Hey Teasel, wanna meet the other apprentices?” She mewed brightly, leading the now eager molly over to where they had seen the sparring group. Gorsestorm, looking put out, turned to Coppertail, who was now sitting closest to him.

              “I’m here in Palesky’s place, my name is Gorsestorm…” Coppertail suitably distracted and the medicine cats disappearing into the medicine den, Piketail was left alone with Marshfoot and Lizardspots. He took a deep breath, stomach flopping like a fish on the shore, and padded up to them. Marshfoot greeted him brightly.

              “Hey there, fish face. I heard all about your being star sent. How does it feel to be such a legend amongst us mere mortals?” He tried to return her grin, but his smile was forced, and he couldn’t help but glance at Lizardspots. At least he also looks nervous, Piketail mused wryly.

              “Well now that everyone knows, terrible. It’s hard to be obscure when everyone is looking at you all the time. Uh, where is Frogthroat at?” Marshfoot narrowed her eyes, seeming displeased he didn’t rise to her bait, before perking up.

              “Oh, he’s in the nursery! Brooksong had their kits just yesterday. Let’s go, you should come and meet them.”

              “I’ll come along as well,” Lizardspots said abruptly. Marshfoot shot him a bemused look before nodding, leading the two toms over to a densely walled den. Piketail cursed to himself- Lizardspots was walking on his left, so he couldn’t get a good gauge on the other tom’s expression.

              There was a whole passel of kittens playing outside the den, watched over by an older gray tabby queen, a small black and white queen, and an elder, a scrawny black tom. Too distracted by their games and the story the elder was telling, the kits allowed the warriors to slip into the nursery unbothered. Inside, Frogthroat was curled up around Brooksong, looking down at her belly with a fondness Piketail had never seen from him. His brother looked up at their entrance, seeming pleased to see his Riverclan friend.

              “Piketail!” He greeted quietly, Brooksong looking up in interest. “Well met. I figured you might be coming today.” The gray warrior carefully approached Brooksong, Marshfoot and Lizardspots a few steps behind, relieved when the tabby queen gave him a friendly greeting. Piketail knew queens could be a bit sensitive, so he was glad to see her warm welcome. Nestled up against her side were three tiny kittens, piled onto each other for warmth as they slept. They were quite obviously newborns, so perfectly small and with eyes and ears tightly shut. Two mollies and a tom, the mollies a dark brown and the tom a warm gray, all with darker spots, a perfect combination of their parents. Piketail felt his heart swell at the sight of them. Hello, he thought to himself. I’m your uncle.

              And that realization is what gave him a courage to take a deep breath and speak.

              “I’m glad I got the chance to speak to you all in private.” He cast a glance at Brooksong. “I mean, Marsh and Frog and… Lizardspots- no offense Brooksong. But I… learned something from my mother recently, and have been wanting to speak to you all about it.” Frogthroat and Marshfoot, who had come around to sit behind her brother, looked confused but intrigued. Lizardspots, now sitting on Piketail’s right, let out a hefty sigh. Straightening up, the former deputy set his jaw.

              “I think I know what you’re about to say, and I won’t make you take on what should be my responsibility. May I?” And perhaps it was a bit cowardly, but Piketail was relieved at the offer. He nodded quickly, carefully watching his siblings as Lizardspots began to speak.

              “First, I must apologize to you all, because I have been hiding the truth from you for so long. Marsh, Frog…” Lizardspots trailed off. “I told you your mother was a Town cat who died giving birth to you, but that wasn’t true. Her name is Grayfeather, and she’s a Riverclan warrior.” And oh stars, he was saying her name is Grayfeather, she is a Riverclan warrior. At that moment Piketail came to the dreadful realization- Lizardspots didn’t know Grayfeather was dead. Meanwhile, Marshfoot and Frogthroat were staring at their father like he had three heads. “We met when I was visiting Riverclan after I was first made deputy. Things… progressed from there, and maybe a year later you all were born. Reedpelt helped Grayfeather sneak out of camp so I could be there for the birth. Originally the plan was for you three to be raised in Riverclan, but then you two came out looking too much like me. It would be undeniable that you were my kin, but I didn’t want to leave your mother alone, especially as it would be difficult to explain why she had no kits. So, we were forced to separate the three of you- Piketail to Riverclan, the both of you with me, in Shadowclan.” Now Piketail was too busy staring at the floor to see what his sibling’s reactions were, mind racing at the thought he would have to tell them their mother was dead.

              “…Pike? You’re our brother?” Marshfoot whispered, and Piketail looked up at her almost guiltily. She and Frogthroat were staring at him now, and Piketail couldn’t really read the expressions on their faces, as his eye was starting to blur with tears.

              “Yes,” he admitted softly. “My… our mother only told me a few weeks ago, and I haven’t seen you two to say anything until now, but-“ His throat tightened, and now they were looking at him in concern, even Lizardspots and Brooksong. Piketail took a deep breath and straightened from his crouch, so he could look at his family as best as he could. “She only told me because… she got so sick, without Reedpelt, Greencough came to us so early this season, and then she-“ his voiced cracked. “She told me when she was dying. She said she wished she had gotten a chance to meet you in this life. That she loved you, all three of you, so much, and that she’s waiting for the day we’ll all finally be together.” Piketail was crying now, but so was everyone else, so he didn’t feel too awkward about it. Marshfoot and Frogthroat looked devastated, confusion and grief warring on their faces. Lizardspots was staring at him in shock, while Brooksong blinked away her own tears as she tried to comfort her mate.

              “Grayfeather’s dead?” His father whispered, and Piketail gave him a miserable nod. Lizardspots sat frozen for another moment before standing slowly. In a moment, he was there, pressed into Piketail’s side, skinny tail wrapped around the gray warrior like he was just a kit again. “I’m so sorry, son. I’m so, so sorry.” And Piketail’s heart cracked a little bit at son, at the fact that his father was here. And so Piketail pressed his head into his dad’s shoulder and let the still fresh grief overcome him for a moment. There was another press against his other side, then another warmth in front of him, Marshfoot and Frogthroat’s scents wreathing around him. Piketail finally had the family he always dreamed of. He knew the joy would come back, that they would be happy about this, but for now, it just hurt.

              After a while they all pulled away, a sort of numbness settling over the group. They curled up next to each other, flanks brushing each other in support, and Frogthroat once again wrapped around his mate and children. From there, he shot his father a deadpan look.

              “When did you plan on telling us?” He rasped, throat even more irritated from crying. Lizardspots shifted a bit, looking uncomfortable.

              “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “Grayfeather wanted to tell you three as soon as you were old enough to understand, but I was still deputy at the time, and I worried about what might happen if the truth came out. It put Rosestar in a bad position, and I couldn’t afford to cause that much upset in the clan.” Another sigh. “Shadowclan wasn’t on good terms with Riverclan when you were born. That winter had been terrible, and Riverclan was desperate. They were risking all-out war with Thunderclan by trespassing, so they turned to hunting on our territory. Things had calmed down a bit by the time Greenleaf came and the three of you were born, but it was still fresh enough to be a problem. In addition to the standard Shadowclan ban on interclan relationships.” Here, Lizardspots just looked sheepish, and Piketail couldn’t help but let out a snort. Marshfoot gave him an almost amused glance.

              “Well, we all know that Riverclan doesn’t give much thought to borders,” she drawled, and now Piketail could only give her his own sheepish shrug. She looked at him curiously then, a smile drawing at the corner of her mouth. “I always thought there was something familiar about you. You look like dad.” Piketail started at that. Everyone always just told him he looked like Grayfeather, even though the only real thing they had in common was coloring.

              “And you look like ma,” he replied, unthinkingly, and Marshfoot’s expression shuttered for a moment before her smile returned, fainter than before.

              “Well, thank goodness. I always knew I was too pretty to take after dad.” Lizardspots indignant hey! broke the last of the tension, and Piketail felt his shoulders relax a bit. His father huffed before softening.

              “Well, now you all know. Again, I’m sorry about this whole mess. I know it’s not much consolation, but your mother and I… we tried to do our best by you all. When we saw that the three of you had become friends, especially after Frog and Pike’s accidents, we thought that might be enough.” Piketail didn’t have it in him to hate his parents for the choices they made, or even really be truly mad at them. Yes, there was a little resentment for what might have been, but right now, he was too happy to just have his father and brother and sister to care. Shuffling in his spot, he gave his father an understanding nod, glad to see that Lizardspots seemed relieved. Marshfoot and Frogthroat also mumbled reassurances, the truth too fresh to get further into it.

              “I also have something else I want to tell you.” Piketail said. “After this whole… situation with Stonestar is resolved, I’m going to ask Oakstar and Rosestar if I can join Shadowclan.” A terrible thought that somehow hadn’t occurred to him suddenly popped into his head. Oh, stars, wait… “Uh, I mean, that is, if you guys, uh, wouldn’t mind-“ Frogthroat managed to reach over Brooksong without disturbing his children to cuff Piketail around his ear.

              “Don’t even finish the thought,” he warned. “Of course we want you here.” Lizardspots and Marshfoot were quick to voice their agreement.

              “I’m old, I want to spend what time I have left with all of my children.”

              “Dad, don’t talk like that. And you don’t talk like that either, fish face, we’d be more than happy to have you here. I can vouch for you to Rosestar.” Piketail, relieved, gave them his gratitude.

              “That would be wonderful. I, well, I told Briarmask about it, and she said she would speak to Rosestar as well.” Lizardspots gave him an unimpressed look.

              “Oh, so that’s how Rosestar found out, huh? He jumped me when I was hunting a couple days ago and confronted me about the whole situation. He refused to tell me how he found out, just said he’d heard a rumor a while ago and only just had the chance to yell at me about it.” The old tom rolled his eyes, and Piketail couldn’t help but chuckle at his residual annoyance. Their time together was cut short, however, when Coppertail suddenly called from outside.

              “Piketail? We’re leaving.” The Riverclanner couldn’t help but feel disappointed, not wanting to leave so soon after being reunited with his family. While they seemed similarly put out, Marshfoot rose to her feet, waving them out of the den.

              “Don’t worry about it,” she murmured after they had bid their goodbyes to Frogthroat, Brooksong, and Lizardspots, who had elected to stay behind. “Soon enough, we’ll have all the time in the world together.” And that was a comforting thought. They met up with the rest of their assembled clanmates, once more gathered in the camp clearing. Piketail obediently took his spot next to Oakstar, feeling emotionally wrung out. What a day, and it’s not even noon.

              “We have our plan.” Shalestar announced, almost vibrating with energy. How she would survive the wait until that plan was enacted was anyone's guess. “We will inform our respective warriors of their parts upon our returns home today. We will all meet at Fourtrees on the night of the Gathering ready to end this once and for all.” Faces set in determination, the Windclan and Riverclan cats bid their goodbyes before heading out. Piketail managed to sneak over to Snowdrift and give him a supportive nudge.

              “I’m sure your family is fine,” he murmured. “I’ve heard your brother is quite the fighter, and my mother told me stories of your mother from back in the day. She’s no joke either. They’ll be safe until they can come home.” Snowdrift nodded, his pinched expression lessening a bit.

              “Stars light your path. May the ancestor’s keep you safe until we meet again.” Piketail appreciated the blessing- he needed all the help he could get. Slipping out of the camp, Piketail trotted alongside his leader and deputy, head spinning with the revelations of the day. He was so distracted, in fact, that they were almost back to the Riverclan camp when he suddenly remembered, oh right, Littlepaw’s assessments.

              “Oakstar, I have a request,” he said quietly, having to fully turn his face to see the old tom. Oakstar gave an inquiring hum. “Littlepaw has more than exceeded my expectations for training. I believe he’s ready to take his assessments.”

              “Hmmm,” Oakstar replied, more thoughtful now. “You are quite right- I will speak to Squirrelnose about Goldenpaw, and if she would be ready for her own assessments soon. Also, we will need to wait until the situation with Thunderclan is resolved before they could be made warriors- they have to visit the Moonstone, after all.” And Piketail had completely forgotten about that. While all warrior apprentices visited the Moonstone to receive their dream from the ancestors, there was no set requirement in the Code for when they went, just that they had to before becoming warriors. He wasn’t really sure how other clans handled it- if he remembered correctly, Marshfoot and Frogthroat had been pretty young when they told him about their trips- but Riverclan apprentices went around the same time they took their assessments. The idea was not to burden an apprentice with what their future might hold, and instead let them train without any preconceived notions. The argument for taking a young apprentice was to give them time to prepare for whatever may be in store for them. On his own part, Piketail couldn’t help but wonder if he would’ve received some warning about the dogs had he gone to the Moonstone young. As it stood, his dream had been rather disconcerting. He had been caught in a current, barely able to keep his head above the water. He had thrashed and flailed for what felt like an eternity, never able to escape its grip, until he had opened his mouth and cried out for help. At that very moment, the rush of water had eased, and he found himself simply floating down the gentle river, the Greenleaf sun warm on his face. Reedpelt had told him the meaning was rather obvious- Don’t always try to handle things on your own. You must ask others for help. But he had still been anxious and withdrawn, and had ignored that advice, still believing he was better off alone. And now… “Still, Littlepaw can at least complete his assessments if he’s ready. No need to make the boy wait. What did you have in mind?” Shaking himself back into reality, Piketail spent the rest of the walk home discussing with Oakstar and Coppertail what Littlepaw’s assessment should be.

              When they arrived at the camp, Stonestar immediately called a clan meeting. He informed the clan of all that had transpired, then launched into the battle plan for the night of the Gathering, four days hence. Piketail, Splashpaw, Oakstar, and Coppertail needed to make it to the Thunderclan camp to bring justice to Stonestar. Oakstar had volunteered more Riverclan warriors for the battle party, as they only had the two witnesses compared to the three or more from the other clans. As such, Herontail, Dawnface, Darkwater, Hollyclaw, Lavenderfur, Larkwing, and Squirrelnose, alongside Littlepaw, Ripplepaw, and possibly Goldenpaw, would be joining them. The warriors that remained would be divided between the camp and Sunning Rocks in case a runner came for reinforcements. As there were no kits and really little chance of the camp being targeted, they could leave it so lightly guarded. Oakstar ended with a rousing cry for justice, for Reedpelt’s soul to finally be put to rest, met with fierce cries from the warriors now all filled with righteous fury. With renewed vigor, patrols went out, seeking to hunt as much as possible so that all the fighters would have the energy for what awaited them. After cats began to disperse, Littlepaw and Ripplepaw found Piketail in the crowd, looking respectively determined and nervous.

              “Ripplepaw wants to get in some extra battle training,” Littlepaw declared, giving his friend a supportive bump with his shoulder. “And we’re gonna ask Splashpaw if Goldenpaw can join. Will you help us?” Piketail was already nodding before his apprentice had finished speaking, glancing around as a thought struck him.

              “Of course. Littlepaw, you ask about Goldenpaw, and Ripplepaw, get Larkwing. I’ll find Squirrelnose. We should all work on battle training together.” While Piketail was always willing to help the apprentices on his own, their own mentors would know best about what they needed to focus on. The three split off from each other, agreeing to meet back up as soon as possible, and Piketail was relieved to find that Squirrelnose was still in camp, speaking quietly to Coppertail near the entrance. Both ginger toms looked up at his approach, and Piketail gave Coppertail a respectful nod before voicing his request to Squirrelnose.

              “The apprentices want to get some extra work in on battle training, and Littlepaw is going to see if Goldenpaw is allowed to practice. Will you join us?” The other tom readily agreed, bidding goodbye to his uncle and following Piketail back to where he had agreed to meet the apprentices. As they were waiting, Piketail gathered his courage.

              “I want to tell you something,” he said quietly, making sure none of their clanmates were close enough to hear. Squirrelnose shot him a curious look. “Right before she died, my mother told me that my father is actually a Shadowclan warrior, and that I have siblings there. After this is all over, and Littlepaw is a warrior, I’m asking Oakstar if I can join Shadowclan.” Squirrelnose looked flabbergasted, but recovered quickly, staring at Piketail with wide eyes.

              “…It’s those two warriors you hang out with, right? The spotted ones?” Now surprised himself, Piketail nodded. “I always thought you looked like you belonged with them. Guess I was right, just not how I thought. Have you told Littlepaw yet?” Piketail looked down at his feet.

              “No,” he murmured. “With everything going on, I don’t want to burden him with this. Especially since Oakstar could always say no.” Squirrelnose hummed.

              “I think you should tell him. Sooner rather than later- he deserves to know. He really cares about you, you know.” There was no time for Piketail to reply, as at that moment the Littlepaw, Ripplepaw, and an enthusiastic Goldenpaw ran up, followed more placidly by Larkwing. As they set out, Piketail admitted to himself that Squirrelnose was right. He needed to tell Littlepaw, sooner than later.

              Just not right now.

________________________________________________________________

              The apprentices trained hard over the next three days, perfecting their techniques and trying not to show that they were scared at the thought of a real battle. They were lucky, really. The past year had been downright peaceful in the territories, as the prey was running well and no clan was struggling more than usual. Even Thunderclan was quiet, having previously taken back and then once again lost the struggle for Sunning Rocks a couple summers ago. It would be a bit longer before they made another bid for it. And, with that being the main source of conflict for a Riverclan warrior, seeing as their other borders were the Horse Place and the Gorge, none of the apprentices had seen a real battle yet. Even the odd fox or badger they had helped chase off hadn’t put up a fight, and so they were understandably a little afraid. But after training for the past few days, Piketail was confident they would be more than fine. Even Goldenpaw had quickly picked back up her previous skill, to the point that Oakstar had told Squirrelnose she could be made a warrior alongside Littlepaw, after the conflict was over. Littlepaw had morbidly wondered aloud if it wouldn’t be better to make them warriors before, in case, stars forbid, the worst happened. Before Piketail could rebuke him Goldenpaw had scoffed, saying she hadn’t almost died of Greencough just to be taken out by some squirrel chaser. It’ll make us fight harder for our names, she declared, and Littlepaw had been happy to agree. Now, Piketail was once again in the training field, but this time, it wasn’t for practice.

              It was time for Littlepaw and Goldenpaw’s assessments.

              That morning they had done their hunting portions, performing admirably. Each had been assigned a certain amount of land and river prey, being given the whole territory to hunt because of the season. Littlepaw had caught more land prey than required, earning him extra credit, and Goldenpaw had somehow fished out the biggest carp any of them had seen since the river froze, a prize indeed. Now, they had their spars against the newest warriors before their individual portions.

              Littlepaw was squared up against Darkwater, the gray molly eagerly bouncing on her toes. Her sister, Dappleleaf, stood more placidly before Goldenpaw. The sisters had been made warriors just at the end of the summer, right before Falconstar and Poppypaw had been killed. If the apprentices could hold their own against their opponents for a decent amount of time, or even pin them, they passed. The “decent amount of time” was entirely at the discretion of Oakstar, who was sitting neatly on a rock that had been cleared of snow. The small field, usually covered by short, springy grass that made an excellent space for sparring, was now covered in a few inches of powdery snow. It added a layer of difficulty to the spar, which made it all the more impressive the longer the apprentices lasted. Coppertail, Piketail, and Squirrelnose sat near Oakstar, the two mentors eagerly waiting for the spars to begin. It wasn’t just the apprentices that had something to prove here, after all. Their mentorship skills would show in the ability of the young cats being put to the test.

              “Begin!” Oakstar abruptly commanded, startling the opponents into action. Darkwater immediately threw herself forward, barreling into Littlepaw with gusto. Piketail briefly noted that Dappleleaf had instead elected to antagonize Goldenpaw into attacking before he focused on his own apprentice. Outwardly, he was calm, but inwardly, his heart was racing.

              Thankfully, Littlepaw had listened to his teachings well, rolling with the tackle and managing to come out on top. He tried to use his superior strength to pin Darkwater in place, but she slipped out of his grasp and came at him once more. Littlepaw had developed a more defensive fighting technique, perhaps influenced by Piketail’s own style. Piketail’s was out of necessity, needing to cover for his blind side, but Littlepaw was more focused on waiting for the perfect moment to strike as opposed to wearing down his opponent with an aggressive offense, which was more Goldenpaw’s style. Instead, the yellow tom watched carefully as he dodged and bobbed, reaching out for an experimental strike here and there. Finally, quick as a snake, he lashed out, tripping Darkwater as she tried to rush him once more. From there he managed to wrestle her into a pin, paw placed firmly on her throat. Littlepaw seemed almost surprised to see that he had won.

              “Stop!” Oakstar cried out, and Goldenpaw and Dappleleaf froze in place. Goldenpaw was half on Dappleleaf’s back, teeth in her scruff and forelegs wrapped around her neck, about to pull the mottled gray molly down. A few more moments, and she likely would have won her spar as well. “Excellent work, the both of you. Congratulations on your win, Littlepaw.” The tom looked about to burst with pride. “And well done to you as well, Goldenpaw. I have no doubt you were about to succeed as well.” The molly accepted the praise with a grateful nod. “Now, time for your final assessments. Littlepaw, you will be staying here with Piketail and Coppertail. Goldenpaw, you will be returning to camp with myself, Dappleleaf, and Darkwater.” Goldenpaw really has grown up a bit, Piketail mused to himself as he trotted over to congratulate his apprentice. Thank the ancestors.

              “I can’t believe I won!” Littlepaw crowed, seemingly more full of energy than he had been at the beginning of his fight. Piketail let out a rusty purr in response.

              “I can. You’ve really been working hard.” He praised. Littlepaw gave him an exuberant headbutt before looking at him expectantly.

              “My personal assessment has to do with sneaking, right? What’s Goldenpaw’s?” Piketail sighed before looking over at Coppertail in a conspiratorial way. The deputy was bidding goodbye to Oakstar, which meant they had a moment before he came over.

              “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…” the gray warrior whispered, leaning in close to Littlepaw, whose eyes sparkled with delight. “Goldenpaw has to bring Greentail and Cherryleaf to Sunningrocks and back before noon, and without clawing their ears off.” The elders had been positively gleeful when Oakstar had requested their participation, promising to be as ornery and difficult as possible. Goldenpaw struggled much in the same way Piketail had, just with a temper instead of shutting down. Littlepaw burst into laughter at the news.

              “Stars above,” he gasped, “I don’t know who I feel more poorly for. I just hope they don’t all kill each other.” Piketail couldn’t help but laugh himself, the excitement of the day killing any nerves he might have for tomorrow night. Coppertail came over at that moment, looking bemused at their obvious mirth but deciding not to question it.

              “Littlepaw,” he said seriously, and the apprentice sobered, looking solemnly at the deputy. “Your task today is twofold. You will track Piketail and myself across the territory without being seen. We are heading to a destination we picked out beforehand. Once there, we will have a secret discussion. You are to follow us and listen in on our conversation without being seen. If we catch you, or you are unable to tell us what we spoke of, you fail. Do you understand?” Littlepaw nodded, expression set in a determined frown. It was a tall order- the white expanse of the grassland had little by way of cover, meaning Littlepaw would have to trail them at a distance to avoid being seen. They were headed for the woods, however, which would give Littlepaw the cover he needed to draw close enough to listen to their conversation, provided he could catch up to them in enough time. But Piketail was confident that Littlepaw would rise to the challenge. He gave Littlepaw his approximation of a wink before trotting off after Coppertail, who took a winding trail towards the woods. They spoke little on the way, only whispering to each other if they heard or saw anything suspicious. It never turned out to be Littlepaw, however, which Piketail was relieved about. He had been worried that perhaps his own skewed senses had been an easy obstacle to overcome for Littlepaw, but it seemed his apprentice was as competent as he had hoped.

              Eventually they arrived in the woods, the sun climbing higher in the sky as they went, now nearly noon. They came to a stop in a small clearing and listened for a moment, scenting the air and waiting to see if there was any sign of Littlepaw. When they were sure there was nothing, Coppertail turned to Piketail, trying to smother a smile.

              “So,” he drawled, sitting back on his hip, “what do you think would be a good name for Littlepaw?” Piketail let out a thoughtful hum as he too took a comfortable seat.

              “I don’t rightfully know. Maybe Littletail? It is a good suffix, after all.” He replied, lip twitching. Coppertail nodded thoughtfully.

              “Perhaps Littlepetal? He is rather delicate. Or Littlepuff, for that coat of his.” The idea behind the conversation was to try and trip Littlepaw up, be so distracted by indignation or worry that he made a mistake. The toms threw out more names, each more ridiculous than the last, before settling on Littledandelion, nontraditional and a bit of a mouthful, of course, but in homage to the name given to him by his dearest friend.

              “Now that that’s settled, let’s head back and tell Oakstar what we came up with. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Piketail agreed amiably, setting off with Coppertail back towards camp. They made it the tree line before Coppertail halted, calling out to the trees around them. “Alright, Littlepaw, if you’re here, come on out!” Almost immediately there was a rustle in the undergrowth near them, and the two toms turned to see a slightly annoyed Littlepaw standing in front of them.

              “Alright, Littletail wasn’t bad, but Littlepuff? Littleguppy? Littledandelion? Seriously?” Catching himself, he shot a glance at Coppertail. “Er, I mean- no disrespect, sir.” Coppertail laughed, shaking his head with a snort.

              “No worries, lad. I’d say you passed. Piketail?” The gray warrior readily agreed, laughing as Littlepaw tackled him in excitement, tussling him in the snow like a pair of kits. He did it! Separating, Piketail shook the snow from his coat, tossing his head towards the camp.

              “Come on,” he mewed, tail curled in delight, “let’s go tell everyone the good news.”

              They arrived back at camp to find a steaming Goldenpaw and a pair of delighted elders, thankfully both in one piece. The golden molly had also been successful in her task, and it was announced to the clan that, pending tomorrow’s success, they would have two new warriors once their journey to the Moonstone was complete. The clan had celebrated with the prey the apprentices had caught, Dawnface flitting between the two of them in her delight. Piketail found himself seated next to Splashpaw in front of the medicine den, fondly watching his apprentice be celebrated by their clanmates.

              He had just quietly spoken to Splashpaw about his joining Shadowclan, and the silver tabby tom was now looking thoughtfully at his feet, churning over what he had learned.

              “If this is what will bring you peace, then of course I’m for it.” He mewed softly, giving Piketail an affectionate flick of his tail. “I’ll miss you, of course, but I’ll still be visiting Fernfire for a while yet, and I’m a medicine cat, so I can abuse my privileges to see you whenever I want.” Splashpaw cast a look at where Littlepaw was chattering excitedly with Goldenpaw, the siblings for once getting along for more than a minute at a time. “Have you told Littlepaw?”

              “No, I wanted to wait until he passed his assessments. No need to add any stress. I was going to ask him to take a walk when the celebration was over.” Piketail wasn’t looking forward to it, but it was time to pull the thorn out of the paw. Littlepaw needed to know, and Piketail wanted to tell him before tomorrow night.

              Just in case.

              “I won’t be leaving right away, anyway. I want to be here for the ceremonies, of course. And I was going to ask Oakstar if I could escort the three of you to the Moonstone, seeing as you’re all still technically apprentices.” Splashpaw snorted, but it lacked his usual humor. Piketail gave him a concerned look, surprised to see that Splashpaw looked… strangely bitter.

              “I don’t know what good it’ll do to bring them there,” the little tabby admitted quietly. “I haven’t once had a dream from Starclan. Medicine cat apprentices don’t dream until we receive our names. What good will I be, interpreting dreams when I’ve never had one myself?” Piketail was silent for a moment, floored. What could he say to that?

              “I…” He trailed off, before setting his jaw. “I can’t really understand the position you’re in, Splashpaw, but I have confidence in you and your abilities. Reedpelt always said you were a model medicine cat apprentice, so if you don’t trust your own judgement, trust hers. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do. And who knows, with Reedpelt’s spirit free, I have no doubt she’ll find some way to bend the rules and help you out.” Splashpaw quirked a smile at that, unable to argue with Piketail’s logic. Reedpelt had never let something like impossibility stand in her way before. If there was a way for her to help Splashpaw from Starclan, she would do it.

              They just needed to help her get there, first. Hopefully, by tomorrow night, she would be safely with the ancestors, alongside Falconstar, Poppypaw, and Kestrelcall.

              “Looks like everything is winding down,” Splashpaw commented. “Now’s your chance.” Piketail gave the young tom a nudge, trying to offer him a bit of comfort, before taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

              Piketail took Littlepaw to the kit stream, the shallow creek where all Riverclan kits first started learning how to swim. It was a familiar place, comforting in its memories, and also unlikely to have anyone else around. There, he sat Littlepaw down and spoke to him of his mother, the truth she had revealed as she lay dying, his meeting with his father, brother, and sister in Shadowclan, and his desire to join them there.

              “I don’t want to leave you behind,” Piketail admitted, “but I don’t want to be dishonest with you. You’re already a warrior in my eyes, and as such you deserve my respect and honesty as an equal. I’m not happy here in Riverclan, not truly. Your being made my apprentice has been the only source of joy in my life since Swanpaw died. But now that’s coming to an end, and I might have the opportunity to seek out my peace with the family I never thought I’d have.” Littlepaw was quiet, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Piketail shifted nervously. “I’m sorry, Littlepaw.”

              “You don’t need to be sorry,” the golden tom mewed, eyes now tinged with sorrow. “I’m sorry you can’t find your peace here, but I get it. If my mom was dying and told me that my dad was actually alive in another clan, I’d want to see him too. And, well, I’d want to be with him if I was unhappy here. So, yeah, I’m not happy about it, but I get it.” Piketail purred, wrapping a paw around Littlepaw’s shoulders and drawing him into a hug.

              “No matter what happens,” he mewed quietly, “I’ll always be your mentor. I don’t care what’s happening, even if Shadowclan and Riverclan are sworn enemies, I’ll never turn my back on you, alright?” Littlepaw let out a tremulous purr.

              “I wouldn’t expect anything less. And don’t worry, even being across the territories won’t stop me from bugging you.” The gray warrior laughed, now giving his apprentice an affectionate shove.

              “Well, now I hope Oakstar agrees, or all of this angst will have been for nothing. Come on, let’s see if we can catch anything on the way home. The holes we made in the ice earlier should still be there- I’m getting sick of land prey.” The two toms made their way towards Sunning Rocks, where Littlepaw had completed his hunting assessment earlier. Oakstar had forbidden anyone from crossing to the actual rocks, given the tension with Thunderclan, but the river was shallower there and the ice was thinner, making it easier to break up. Sure enough, the ice holes were still there, and the toms were successful in scooping out a few small fish. They were just about to call it a day when distant yowling made their spines stiffen. It was coming from Thunderclan territory, drawing closer by the second.

              “Hide!” Piketail hissed, shoving Littlepaw into the dry reeds near the riverbank. They ducked into cover, peering through the yellowed stalks as they waited to see what was going on. A minute or so later, a black tom broke the cover of the Thunderclan forest, running full tilt towards the river. He took a flying leap towards the first steppingstone, sliding halfway off, his front feet plunging through the thin ice around the stone and into the river. The tom let out a surprised yowl, ripping them back out of the water and scrambling for a better hold. A group of cats emerged from the tree line, led by an enraged Stonestar. Piketail’s stomach turned to ice.

              “Traitor!” Stonestar howled. “Look how he flees to our enemies!” The three warriors with him hissed, throwing themselves after the black tom at their leader’s command. Desperate now, the tom clumsily leapt from stone to stone, feet occasionally slipping or going through the ice. One warrior made to follow him, the other two reluctantly hanging back. The black tom was almost to the riverbank when Piketail decided enough was enough. He leapt out of the reeds with a ferocious hiss, Littlepaw quickly following after him. He startled both Thunderclan warriors, the black tom tumbling off the final stone to land at Piketail’s feet, the other fumbling to a halt, only partially across the river.

              “What is the meaning of this!” Piketail snarled, glare whipping to Stonestar and then the tom at his feet. “How dare you trespass on Riverclan land!”

              “I claim sanctuary,” the black tom rasped, and Piketail could see now that he had been beaten. Badly. “My name is Nightrock, and I am friend to both Riverclan and Thunderclan, even though they don’t believe it. Please, sanctuary.” Piketail paused, recognizing both the toms name and his request. Sanctuary was a serious business, only accepted in the direst of circumstances, usually when a cat’s life was in danger. Typically, that meant something like being caught in a storm, or chased by another predator, but it also covered political asylum, which Piketail felt definitely applied to this situation. Seems like Stonestar found out Nightrock told us what was going on.

              “Riverclan accepts your petition. From now until revoked by Oakstar, you are under our protection.” Piketail mewed quickly, and Littlepaw moved to help the tom up. The gray warrior then fixed his glare on the tom that was part way across the river, a huge gray tabby with white patches. “If anyone comes after this warrior, we will defend him as if he were our own. Don’t start a fight you can’t win.” He warned, and yes, this was probably only reinforcing Stonestar’s propaganda, but Piketail had only his apprentice and a wounded tom against four fresh Thunderclanners. When it came down to it, he really only could threaten his way out of this one. Thankfully the gray and white tabby fell back with a hiss. Stonestar drew himself up with a snarl.

              “This isn’t over, code breaker!” The leader swore, puffed up dramatically in front of his warriors. “Thunderclan will never be cowed by the likes of you!”

              “Quite the act, you cold hearted rogue,” Piketail sneered, ushering Nightrock and Littlepaw into the reeds with a wave of his tale. “You should join our actors in their next performance, you’d make the perfect villain. How about the Gathering tomorrow night?” He couldn’t help but taunt the Thunderclan leader, and that must be the Shadowclan in him. Stonestar responded with a wordless hiss, disappearing into the trees with his warriors. Piketail slipped into the reeds but stayed crouched, watching for a few moments to make sure they weren’t coming back. Satisfied they were gone for good, he turned to his companions. Nightrock was looking rough, breathing hard and leaning most of his weight against Littlepaw’s shoulder.

              “I cannot thank you enough,” the black tom gasped. “He caught me trying to give information to Windclan, said I was a traitor-“

              “Save your strength,” Littlepaw urged, giving Piketail a worried look as his golden fur became stained with the tom’s blood. “We need to get you to the medicine den, quickly.” Piketail came around to support Nightrock’s other side, helping him along as fast as they could.

              If Stonestar was desperate enough to attack his own warriors, what was he willing to do to his enemies? Ancestor’s protect us, Piketail desperately prayed.

              This was the beginning of the end.

First / Prev / Next

[overgrowth-wc]

Every time you fall down, you have to get back up. Teaselpaw might regret what Kestrelcall never got a chance to teach her, but what he did might give them the edge they need. 

              Teaselpaw paced nervously in the predawn outside the medicine den, reluctant to be out in the cold but even more reluctant to disturb Silverfang and Dipperwing. It had been a moon since they were attacked, and both were doing well, or, well… well enough, anyway. Physically, their wounds were healed, but mentally and emotionally they were still devastated. Silverfang tried to force herself to talk too often, straining her scar and only managing strangled squeaks and whispers. It was heart breaking to see her vivacious friend reduced to silence- now that the gash was healed, she’d have to ask Snowdrift or Fernfire what they could do about it next time she saw them for lessons. Dipperwing was also very quiet, but more out of grief and shock than anything else. He was slowly adjusting to life without sight, exploring the medicine den and camp with Teaselpaw or Silverfang’s help, learning how to use his whiskers and hearing to navigate instead of his eyes. They’d even started to venture outside the camp, but the emptiness of the territory tended to make it more difficult for Dipperwing to feel secure. Really, both of them could technically be back in the warrior’s den, but the medicine den offered them shelter from the reality of the world they lived in now, and Teaselpaw would never deny them the comfort it brought. Worst of all was the fact now that it was almost impossible for the two warriors to communicate- with Silverfang unable to speak and Dipperwing unable to see, they had to resort to Dipperwing asking yes or no questions, which Silverfang would reply to with a tap of a paw or tail. Teaselpaw felt so poorly for them, especially since Dipperwing had brokenly whispered to her one night that he had been planning on asking Shalestar’s permission to officially court Silverfang, that they wanted to be mates, that plan now interrupted by the devastation of the attack they suffered.

              She didn’t know what she would have done without Snowdrift following the attack. With Kestrelcall gone she had been floundering, and he had shown up in the nick of time to prevent anything worse from happening to her friends. Shalestar had been equally grateful, pledging a boon to the medicine cat in return for his help. Now, Teaselpaw might still not know everything about clan life, but even she could recognize how big that was. Shalestar had even insisted on escorting Teaselpaw to the meeting with the others herself, a quiet Cinderfall in tow, and Teaselpaw was grateful that she didn’t have to explain any of what followed to her leader afterwards, because oh boy, was that a mess. The gray leader had been on top of it, however, meeting with the other leaders and creating a plan to catch Stonestar and try him at the Gathering. That gave them a moon to collect evidence and get the support they needed to make sure Stonestar could be brought to justice.

              Things had gone by quickly after that.

              Briarmask had appeared at their camp not a day later, to let them know of Fernfire’s attack and that they had six warriors ready to testify against Stonestar. Then, the day after that she had returned again, this time with even worse news, that Softgaze was dead, and that Stonestar had tried to kill Snowdrift, who had taken refuge in Shadowclan with the terribly wounded Mintfrost and her apprentice, Turtlepaw. Mintfrost had apparently been hit by a car while fighting Stonestar, dislocating her hip and crushing her tail. The molly was alive, and thankfully her spine was intact, although her tail had to be removed. Teaselpaw’s stomach had roiled at the news, unsure if she had the fortitude yet to perform such a procedure herself. Briarmask had asked for a runner to be sent to Riverclan, and warned them that they did not know how Stonestar was going to handle his mistake. He’ll manipulate Thunderclan somehow, we know that for certain. Shalestar had mewed seriously. We need to keep a careful eye on them for now. Cinderfall and Kiteclaw had been sent to Riverclan to warn them, and now the three clans waited in breathless anticipation to see what the Thunderclan leader would do next. In the meanwhile, the medicine cats were forbidden to leave camp, not even for the halfmoon that would happen tonight.

              But Teaselpaw had more things to worry about, because it had been a moon since Gorsestorm was exiled, and he was still yet to appear. He hadn’t been scented in the territory for the duration of his exile, and she was starting to worry that something terrible had happened to him. There had been a blizzard the other day, for star’s sake, had he managed to find shelter? Was he starving and ill, wounded maybe, from some terrible battle all alone? Her thoughts were running wild, and she perked up every time the gorse barrier rustled. Unfortunately, it was usually the breeze shaking the branches, with an occasional clanmate ducking in or out. In this early and freezing hour very few of her clanmates were awake, and she plopped down dejectedly by her den. She missed Gorsestorm desperately. All she wanted was for him to give her some rude advice and tell her it would all be ok, and then maybe she could get through all this. The gorse barrier rustled again, but this time she didn’t even bother to look up, staring defeatedly down at her numb paws as she tried to figure out what she would do if he never came back.

              “Some homecoming, huh?” And that was the best thing she had heard in a long, long time. Teaselpaw leapt to her feet, eyes welling as she took in the sight of her mentor standing before her. Gorsestorm was only slightly scrawnier than he had been when he left. His old wounds looked like they had healed just fine, but there was a rather fresh gash down his left cheek that seemed fairly deep, along with some bite wounds and assorted scratches. But even though he was tired, and hungry, and looked rather roughed up he was alive, and Teaselpaw couldn’t help but rush forward to wrap him in a hug, standing on her hind legs so she could wrap both front ones around his neck.

              “I thought you were dead!” She tried to scold, but it came out as more of a whine. Gorsestorm coughed at the pressure on his throat, patting her back lightly with one paw.

              “Alright, alright, owl chick, have you such little faith? Obviously I can survive on my own just fine, thank you. I just much prefer if I didn’t have to. Now,” he said, gently easing her away so he could look her seriously in the eye, “I need to talk to Kestrelcall and Shalestar immediately. Are they still asleep?” Teaselpaw felt that ball of grief that seemed permanently lodged in her gut work its way into her throat, choking her as she tried to take a deep breath. She swallowed hard, and Gorsestorm was now looking at her apprehensively. “Teaselpaw, where are they?”

              “Kestrelcall is dead,” she whispered, ears drooping, and Gorsestorm’s eyes flew wide with shock. “He and Dipperwing and Silverfang were attacked coming back from the halfmoon. Silverfang, she can’t talk anymore, they tried to tear out her throat, and Dipperwing…” Another hard swallow. “He’s- he’s blind, now. They ripped his eyes out. They’re still in my den.”  She couldn’t speak anymore after that, staring miserably down at the ground as she sniffed and tried desperately not to start crying for the umpteenth time. Gorsestorm let out a pained noised, leaning forward to press his nose against her forehead.

              “I’m so sorry, owl chick. I had no idea. I…” His brow furrowed, and he looked pensive as he fixed her with a gentle look. “I know who’s been attacking the medicine cats. I’ve been spending my time in the Town, and I’ve learned some things since I’ve been gone.” Teaselpaw perked up a bit at that, glancing around before speaking in a hushed tone.

              “We know who did it too, we just found out,” she whispered, and Gorsestorm’s eyes darkened. “But still, whatever you learned will probably be a big help- we know who, but not much else. Come on, I’ll get Shalestar and we can figure this out.” Teaselpaw lead him over to Shalestar’s den, and the golden and white tom hesitated outside. She cast him a sympathetic glance over her shoulder. “I’ll let her know you’re here,” she mewed simply, and he gave her a grateful nod. Teaselpaw carefully made her way down the tunnel into the den, and was only slightly surprised to see Shalestar already awake. The gray queen was staring at the wall, lost in thought, while Stagstep still slept pressed up against her side. The leader’s eyes snapped to the apprentice as she entered, leaning forward with barely restrained eagerness.

              “Is he here?” Shalestar whispered, casting a glance down at Stagstep as he shifted in his sleep. Teaselpaw nodded, not wanting to wake the tom, and Shalestar carefully extracted herself from her mate’s side and followed her back up the tunnel to where Gorsestorm was shuffling his paws outside. The cousins stopped, sizing each other up carefully. Gorsestorm broke first, letting out a sigh as he dipped his head respectfully to his leader, eyes somber.

              “I’m sorry.” He said without preamble, tone exhausted with the slightest undertone of apology. “I took my grief out on you. I know you didn’t murder my father. I recognize the terrible mistake I’ve made, and I’m grateful you’re even willing to let me come back. It will never happen again.” Gorsestorm didn’t sound defeated as much as… calm, wrung out but sure of what he was saying. Shalestar let out a heavy sigh before pinning him with a look.

              “I accept your apology, and I believe what you’re saying, especially because I know you do not want to find out what happens if you ever pull a stunt like that again.” When the young tom didn’t protest, merely nodded seriously, Shalestar’s gaze softened. “And I offer my own apology. I should have reached out to you and done more to help you after Falconstar’s death. I meant it though, when I promised justice for your father and Poppypaw. And now,” now Shalestar smiled, and my, Teaselpaw didn’t know a smile could be so terrifying, “we have finally found those responsible. The time is nearly here, to set Falconstar and Poppypaw’s spirits free, and see peace returned to the territories.” Gorsestorm straightened, eyes burning, and once again Teaselpaw was struck by how similar they were, as Shalestar had the same look on her face.

              “Teaselpaw told me you know it’s Stonestar and his mate,” Gorsestorm said quickly, leaning forward in his urgency. “I was in the Town, and I met Featherfall there. I told her I had been exiled and she tried to recruit me to their cause, said that they had a couple Town cats they were working with and that they could use a clan cat.” The golden tom paused, eyeing Shalestar carefully. “I decided to make use of my time away and accepted, although I guess they still were hiding things from me, seeing as they didn’t tell me about Kestrelcall. They were plotting some move against Fernfire at the time.” Teaselpaw blinked, knowing that Gorsestorm had done it to gain information and ultimately help them, but still, it was unnerving to know that he had been so close to the enemies’ confidences when the rest of them had still been in the dark. “I managed to sow some discord amongst the Town cats, which caused a couple of them to split off, but there was one nasty rat I couldn’t get to leave. That postponed things for a bit, though, and I tried to mess up their plans when I could. Unfortunately, they caught on to what I was doing after only a couple weeks.” Gorsestorm sighed. “They tried to kill me, but I got away, but then I got lost in the Town for a while. I met this molly and her kits, I guess she’s some Shadowclanner’s mate, and she told me about Fernfire’s attack. I decided to try and track Featherfall down myself, see if I could just put an end to it, but it was like trying to find a whisker in haystack. Thankfully that search led me back to the territories. I was going to come straight back, even though it was a couple days early, but, well…” He pawed the gash on his cheek. “Stonestar found me, a few days ago. Nearly got the jump on me when I was sneaking through Thunderclan territory, attacked me with a patrol. He told them I was a Windclan spy, something about how we’re planning on attacking them, which they seemed to believe. They chased me back into the Town, got me pretty good at one point, and then it took a few days to recover and make my way here. Which, well, here I am.”

              Teaselpaw couldn’t help the burst of anxiety she felt at Gorsestorm’s story, both out of belated concern for his safety and the fact that Stonestar seemed to be pinning this all on Windclan. Shalestar’s brow was furrowed deeply, and she let out a thoughtful hum. For some reason, she didn’t look all that concerned.

              “It was smart to join them, and very brave to interfere- you might have saved Fernfire’s life by doing so. We thought that Stonestar would try and spin this somehow, and it seems like he’s blaming at least us, if not the all the clans, for what he has done. Since you’ve been gone, Softgaze passed from illness, and Stonestar has chased Snowdrift, Mintfrost, and her apprentice to Shadowclan. Last I heard, Mintfrost was badly hurt but recovering- my question is, what did Stonestar tell Thunderclan about it all? They have to be suspicious that their medicine cat and deputy have disappeared.” The gray leader nodded decisively and stood, looking over Gorsestorm with a critical and concerned gaze. “Teaselpaw, help Gorsestorm clean up, would you? Then both of you get something to eat. I want you two to accompany me to Shadowclan- I’ll get a few more warriors to join. We’ll leave once the sun is up and it’s a bit warmer, so don’t rush.” Teaselpaw and her mentor nodded gratefully to their leader, who dipped her head in return before moving to head back to her den. She took a step and paused, looking back over her shoulder.

              “And Gorsestorm-“ the golden tom stiffened, ears pricked, “welcome home.” With that Shalestar slipped back into her den, and Gorsestorm slumped over with relief. He sighed, looking at Teaselpaw with a wry look.

              “I’m one lucky bastard, huh? I was thinking about it, and if some cat did to me what I did to her, well…” He gave his coat a rough shake. “I definitely learned something from this, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” Teaselpaw gave him a relieved nudge.

              “I’m just happy you’re alive and mostly in one piece. Let’s get out of the cold and fix you up.” Her mentor nodded, happy to follow her into the warmth of the den.

              Silverfang and Dipperwing were curled up in the back of the den together, although the black tom raised his head as Teaselpaw and Gorsestorm entered. Teaselpaw felt the tom beside her stiffen as he took in Dipperwing’s face. It now presented as a black void, only slashes of pink scar tissue to break it up, a far cry from his previous bright orange gaze. The tom sniffed the air carefully, ears perking up as he recognized who was there.

              “Gorsestorm? You’re alright?” He rasped, and Teaselpaw watched as Gorsestorm’s ears drooped in an almost guilty way.

              “Mostly,” he returned, “but a far sight better than you.” Teaselpaw winced at what she thought was a misstep, but Dipperwing quirked a wry smile. “How are you holding up?”

              “Oh, you know. Been better. But that’s neither here nor there. Do anything fun while you were away?” Teaselpaw was frozen in her confusion, glancing back and forth between the two toms and wondering at their unusual camaraderie. She had heard other warriors talking to each other like this, wry banter making up most Windclan chats, but as far as she had been aware, Gorsestorm and Dipperwing didn’t like each other that much. Or, well, they mostly ignored each other, which… might not be the same thing.

              “Oh yeah, nearly got killed a couple times, but I learned who murdered our fathers. Sorry it wasn’t soon enough to change anything.” Dipperwing froze, but then relaxed, brow furrowed and radiating determination.

              “I wasn’t able to do anything about it either. But we’ll give ‘em hell now, right?” Gorsestorm grinned now, more bared teeth than anything else.

              “They’ll get what’s coming to them if it’s the last thing I do.” It had the weight of an oath to it, and Teaselpaw shook herself, trotting over to where the herbs were stored. Dipperwing gave his fellow warrior a firm nod, which Gorsestorm returned unseen. The golden tom then followed Teaselpaw over to the wall. She briskly instructed him to clean his wounds which, well, he had probably already done, but he complied readily. Teaselpaw was busy mixing some poultice when some snorts and squeaks broke the silence, the typical sign of Silverfang having a nightmare. She turned hurriedly to check on her, but Dipperwing was already nudging her awake, murmuring soothingly to the pale gray molly. She jerked her head up, blinking rapidly before relaxing minutely. That changed, however, when Silverfang caught sight of Gorsestorm, the tom watching her carefully. She gave him a similarly guarded look.

              “Heard what happened.” Gorsestorm mewed. “I’d say I was worried, but if there’s anyone who can overcome losing their voice, it’s a perpetual rabbit mouth. You’ll find it soon enough, stars help us when you do.” Teaselpaw could only roll her eyes, familiar with his backhanded compliments. He didn’t sound aggressive or mean about it, more dry than anything, and it seemed Silverfang didn’t take too much offense. She merely let out a ferocious huff and rolled her eyes dramatically, pushing herself to her feet. She gave Dipperwing a nudge, then Teaselpaw and, by proximity, Gorsestorm, a nod, before trotting out of the den. Probably getting breakfast. Which reminded the apprentice that she needed to get Gorsestorm fixed up so they could eat as well. Quickly, she dressed his wounds with a thin mixture of herbs, not bothering to cover any with cobwebs. They looked good, no signs of infection despite being a few days old, and she didn’t want to mess with them more than she had to. The herbs would be enough.

              “Alright, Silverfang had the right idea- time to get something to eat.”  They bid goodbyes to Dipperwing before once again heading into the freezing air, quickly making their way to the fresh kill pile. Silverfang passed them on her way back to the den, a small rabbit in her jaws. At this point in the morning, there was only a few pieces left over from the previous night- winter had truly taken the territories in its grip. Gorsestorm, after a few deliberative moments, chose a pair of scrawny mice. Not typical Windclan fare, but it wasn’t uncommon for the warriors to hunt on the farm and even in the Barn when the weather went bad. It filled Teaselpaw with a certain sense of nostalgia as they settled in to eat.

              “After this I’m going to find Heather and Kite,” Gorsestorm said quietly, casting a glance towards the warrior’s den. “I need to let them know I’m back.” Teaselpaw gave him an understanding nod.

              “I’ll be either in the medicine den or the nursery, depending on how long it is before Shalestar wants to leave.” She mewed. “If we have time, you should come see the kittens. They’re just starting to really play and be curious, and, well, you are going to mentor one. You should start seeing who you do best with.” That was something Shalestar had had to tell her, after Kestrelcall’s death. It would be her responsibility to help advise Shalestar, alongside the kits parent’s, on who might make good mentors for them. She already had an idea on which kit would be best with Gorsestorm, but she needed to see them together first.

              “Alright, sounds like a plan,” he said decisively, mouse already finished. “See you later, Teaselpaw.”

              “See you later!” And it was nice to know that she actually would.

________________________________________________________________

              Shalestar collected them around midmorning, with Daisypetal, Grasspelt, and Leafspring. Teaselpaw and Gorsestorm had been in the nursery, spending time with the kits, and Teaselpaw had been pleased to see that yes, it did seem like Nightkit and Gorsestorm already had a bit of a connection. The little dark gray tom was fairly shy and quiet, but also seemed to already be an even keeled kitten. He would make a good match to Gorsestorm’s more bold personality. Teaselpaw mused about the other kittens as she trotted along between Shalestar and Gorsestorm, realizing she would need to start really spending time with the other warriors in order to see who would be a good match. She knew Leafspring of course, and he wouldn’t qualify since he had just mentored Dipperwing, but his two siblings that were with them were relative unknowns to her. Daisypetal was a cream color like herself, but with faint stripes. She seemed fairly boisterous and like she wouldn’t take any crap. Grasspelt, a pale brown tabby, was very quiet and serious.  Teaselpaw would try to use this trip as an opportunity to get to know them better, but Shalestar had ordered the other three to spread out around them, keeping an eye out for any potential trouble. They would also be waiting on the border while Shalestar, Gorsestorm, and Teaselpaw went to the Shadowclan camp, so she would have to try to get a read on them later.

              “Things are chaotic right now, of course, but once we get this mess taken care of, we can talk about your future position within the clan.” Shalestar was saying when Teaselpaw tuned back in. “Of course, tradition dictates that I must make my eldest kit heir, but abdication is allowed. Silverfang had come to me before her ceremony to let me know that she was much more interested in being able to bond with Dipperwing than being leader.” The pale queen rolled her eyes, a mixture of affection and exasperation. “And of course, Cinderfall wanted nothing to do with it. He said he was counting on his sister and I to live long enough that it would be an issue for the next generation. At that point, it became possible to appoint you again, as you are the next qualified candidate. We’ll make you heir in the next few moons, you train one of the kits when they’re old enough, then I’ll replace Palesky with you.”

              Gorsestorm hummed agreeably, casting her a curious look.

              “Palesky is alright with that?” He questioned, but he didn’t seem too worried. Shalestar snorted.

              “I love my brother, I really do, but he’s a nervous bunny. I think the stress of deputyship would kill him before he could ever become leader, which he very much agrees with. He’s looking forward to the day he can foist it off on you.” Gorsestorm and Teaselpaw laughed at that, and Shalestar’s eyes took on an even more mischievous glint. “Another thing, cousin. Since you’re already gearing up for the deputyship and it is very clear that my part of the family has no interest in being in authority, you and Heathernose need to start looking for someone to settle down with. You, most importantly.” Gorsestorm pinned his ears back, looking a combination of mortified, terrified, and disgusted, which had Teaselpaw laughing so hard she tripped over her own paws. Shalestar, needing very little encouragement, continued. “Now let’s see… really, you’re at a disadvantage since there aren’t a lot of available mollies. There’s Bluetail of course, even though she’s a little older, Petalpelt, she’s nice… of course, there’s always Robinsong, weren’t you two apprentices together?” The poor golden tom looked like he wanted to sink into the ground, struggling not to snarl, snap, or otherwise show complete disrespect to their leader.

              “Yes, we were, but that doesn’t mean-“

              “Oh look!” Shalestar interrupted cheerfully, ignoring her cousin’s sputtering, “the Thunderpath! Let’s hurry this up.” She took off at a trot, which was a run for Teaselpaw, and soon they were all sitting right alongside the road, Daisypetal, Grasspelt, and Leafspring joining them quickly. It took a while of waiting, Teaselpaw happy to chat with her clanmates, but eventually three curious heads poked out of the sparse brush on the other side. Thankfully, the road was quiet, the undisturbed snow atop it revealing that no car had traveled on it since last night’s snow.

              “Well met! How can we help Windclan today?” One of the Shadowclanners called, an older black tom. He was accompanied by a blue gray molly and a gray tabby tom, probably an apprentice, judging by his lanky limbs and disproportionate ears. Shalestar stood, calling loud enough to be heard easily.

              “I travel with my medicine cat and my cousin, seeking an audience with Rosestar and Fernfire. Our clanmates shall stay here and wait for us.” The tom nodded, glancing up and down the road.

              “We’d be happy to take you to them- come across whenever you’re ready.” Teaselpaw was pretty good at road crossing now, not as hesitant or fearful as she had been at first, but the recent story of what happened to Mintfrost had her on edge. She ran across as quickly as she could, after Shalestar and in front of Gorsestorm, and let out a heaving sigh of relief when her paws hit the grass of Shadowclan territory.

              “Good to see you again, Teaselpaw,” the black tom greeted, and she was happy to recognize him as Blackear, a warrior who had often helped escort her to the Shadowclan camp over the last moon. He was accompanied by his mate, Bluebird, the older queen giving her an affectionate blink, and the unknown apprentice, who had a grin on his face. “Shalestar, a pleasure. My name is Blackear, this is my mate, Bluebird, and our grandson, Webpaw. Welcome to the marsh.” Shalestar returned his greeting with a smile and a nod.

              “The pleasure is mine. You of course know Teaselpaw, and this is my cousin, Gorsestorm. Thank you for the escort.” The Shadowclanner waved off her gratitude with a friendly flick of his ear, turning to lead them down the familiar path to the Shadowclan camp. Teaselpaw wouldn’t say she was overly fond of Shadowclan territory- the pines towered ominously above, and the mud and damp clung uncomfortably to her fur. She would admit, however, that she did find it fascinating how differently the clans all lived for each other, and her curiosity for how Shadowclan lived overrode her displeasure with their home. She chatted amiably with Webpaw, who she learned was about her age, and the time passed quickly. Soon they arrived at the nest of logs and thorns that made up the Shadowclan camp, and Teaselpaw followed Shalestar through the tunnel into the camp clearing.

              It was afternoon now, and the camp was draped in a lazy quiet. Cats were scattered around in pairs or small groups, sleeping or sharing tongues. Teaselpaw was surprised to see no less than nine kittens playing near the nursery- last time she was here, about a week ago, there were only three. An exasperated Briarmask trying to corral them alongside a fluffy gray tom, a black molly who looked like she’d fit in well with Windclan, and a molly who Teaselpaw recognized as the deputy, Marshfoot. Shalestar took in the sight with an amused gaze, and Gorsestorm let out a snort.

              “Shadowclan’s future looks bright.” He remarked drily, and Blackear shot him a wry grin.

              “There’s more on the way, if you’d believe it. Brooksong went into labor this morning- I don’t know if she’s done yet, but I’ll at least go get Rosestar if Fernfire’s still busy.” With that he trotted off. Webpaw also slipped away, and Bluebird went to relieve Briarmask of her duty so she could come greet the Windclanners. The pointed tabby had perked up when they walked in, newly split ear flicking, and Teaselpaw could see the molly was itching with curiosity.  Briarmask bid a cheeky goodbye to her fellow babysitters, hurrying over to where Teaselpaw and the others sat. She gave Shalestar a respectful nod.

              “Greetings, Shalestar. I hope everything is alright on the moor?” Briarmask said pleasantly, but Teaselpaw knew she must be worried about their abrupt appearance. Shalestar dipped her head, returning the pleasantries.

              “Good news this time, thank the stars. We’ve received some new insights and wanted to try and further our plans.” Shalestar cast a curious glance towards the medicine den. “We also wanted to check up on your new guests.” Briarmask nodded, seeming relieved. She answered in a lowered voice.

              “That’s good to hear. The three of them are doing well- thankfully, Snowdrift and the apprentice only had minor wounds. Mintfrost is recovering well, Fernfire and Snowdrift expect that she will start walking again soon, although the limp might be permanent.” Teaselpaw felt a warm wave of relief smooth over her fur. She had been worried about Mintfrost, fueled by no small amount of guilt. They had spent most of their time suspecting and doubting the deputy when in reality she was willing to put down her life for them all. It was humbling, and Teaselpaw knew that she would never be so quick to jump to conclusions again.

              “Excellent news. Ah, here he is.” Blackear was leading Rosestar back over to them, although he was waylaid when the three older kits caught sight of him. They all came bounding over, which drew the attention of their playmates, and soon the pointed ginger tom was being swarmed by kittens. Their caretakers were unsuccessfully attempting to herd them all away, and Teaselpaw couldn’t help but laugh at Rosestar’s long suffering look as a little ginger tom yanked on his ear and two of the smaller kits began batting at his tail, while the rest poked at his sides, tumbled at his feet, and tried to speak over each other as they reported their latest exploits. Rosestar gamely waded through the tide like he might through thick mud, the fluffy vortex following him as he slogged his way to where the Windclanners sat, shoulder’s shaking in barely concealed amusement. The kittens were soon distracted by the sight of them, and Rosestar used their lapse in concentration to his advantage.

              “Kittens!” He commanded imperiously, although it didn’t seem to have much effect. “Conduct yourselves rightly now, we have guests to impress. We need to show them how polite we can be, yes?” It was a desperate bid, and while it was successful in getting the kittens to leave him alone, it also had an unintended effect. The kittens scrambled to line themselves up, the three bigger kits on one end, trailing down to the smallest little tabby on the other.

              They then proceeded to introduce themselves.

              “Alright you lot,” the little ginger tom declared, doing an excellent impression of Rosestar’s tone, “introduce yourselves! I’ll go first!” Taking a deep breath, he puffed himself up, fixing the Windclanner’s with a bright grin. “My name is Sparkkit!” Teaselpaw nodded kindly.

              “Good morning- or, uh, afternoon? Anyway, I’m Sunkit!” Shalestar’s lips twitched as she tried to return a friendly nod.

              “And I’m Emberkit! Rosestar’s our dad!” A snort from Gorsestorm.

              “My name is Tumblekit! Uh, Rosestar isn’t my dad, but Shadefur is!” The fluffy gray babysitter let out a sigh.

              “I’m Mumblekit! And this is Bumblekit!” The little tom next to him glared.

              “Not fair! I wanna say my name! Hi, everybody, I’m Bumblekit!” Briarmask tucked her chin to her chest, smothering her laughter.

              “Hey, I’m Scratchkit! And my name isn’t funny.” The little tom mewed, his look daring them to say otherwise. Gorsestorm gave a serious shake of his head, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

              “Hi, um, I’m Patchkit.” The quietest of the bunch, and Teaselpaw gave him an affectionate blink.

              “And my name is Beekit! Thank you for visiting!” The little molly on the end peeped, and Shalestar took the opportunity to cut off any further shenanigans.

              “It is a pleasure to meet you all. What wonderful warriors Shadowclan will have in the coming seasons.” The kittens puffed up like dandelions, giving each other excited grins and shoves. “Now, may I borrow Rosestar for a moment? I promise I won’t keep him from you too long.” The kittens all readily agreed, happy to trot off back to the space before the nursery, their babysitters shooting the Windclanners apologetic glances over their shoulders as they followed. Rosestar gave his coat shake, looking like he had just survived a windstorm. In certain ways, Teaselpaw mused, he has.

              “My apologies,” Rosestar mewed, trying to recover his image. “They’re very excited about Brooksong’s kittens, but also have to keep out of the den while she recovers. It’ll be a long day for everyone, I feel.” Shalestar snorted, casting a glance at the nursery.

              “We’ve all been there, although I don’t know if Windclan has ever had so many kits at once. How is your new queen? Did the birth go well?” Rosestar sobered a bit, Briarmask’s ears drooped, and Teaselpaw felt her stomach drop.

              “Ah, mostly, for Brooksong at least. She birthed five kittens, but unfortunately one was born dead, and one died soon after. Winter is a rough season, after all. Fernfire and Snowdrift are out burying them now. Stars light their path.” The Windclanners expressed their sympathy, even Gorsestorm looking mournful at the news. Rosestar shook himself again. “Well, in the meanwhile, I’d be happy to bring you to Mintfrost. We’ve brought her into the loop, but it would be good for you to speak with her as well.” Eager for a change of subject and an opportunity to get back on track, Shalestar agreed. Rosestar lead them over to the medicine den, a fluffy black tom asleep outside of it. His neck was swathed in cobwebs, and Teaselpaw realized this must be Crowcall, the tom Briarmask had spoken about. Rosestar cast them a quick glance.

              “If you wouldn’t mind waiting out here a moment, I’ll make sure she’s awake.” He mewed. Shalestar nodded and the tom trotted into the den. Teaselpaw cast a glance up at her leader, surprised to see that she looked… pensive, and a little mournful.

              “Are you alright?” Teaselpaw asked quietly, and Shalestar glanced down at her in surprise. Briarmask, hearing the question, quietly moved a few steps away.

              “Ah, yes.” She mewed, but her gaze softened. “I feel poorly for the new queen. I also lost a couple kits at birth- it is not an easy thing.” Teaselpaw gave a comforting purr, but inwardly was surprised. She hadn’t known that Shalestar had had more children, and never even thought of kits dying, at birth or otherwise, during her time in the clans. Which, in retrospect, was naïve of her. Teaselpaw was unaware of if she had had any siblings, always assuming she was the sole kit. Now, however… She shook the thought off. They had been lucky, then, with Littlestream’s litter, that all the kits had survived to be named. Rosestar poked his head out of the den, ears flicking.

              “Alright, come on in.” He called softly, and Shalestar lead the way in behind him. Mintfrost was reclining in a nest near the back, somehow managing to seem stoic and regal despite her state. Her hindquarters were swathed in bandages, right leg immobilized with sticks and more bindings, and Teaselpaw was surprised to see a small pile of snow pushed up near her nest. What was the point of that?

              “Well met, Shalestar, Gorsestorm, Teaselpaw, and Briarmask, of course,” Mintfrost rasped. “My apologies for not greeting you appropriately, but my mother hens have forbidden me from moving more than strictly necessary.” Shalestar smiled at her dry tone.

              “Not to worry, there’s no disrespect done. I’m glad to see you seem to be recovering well.” Mintfrost merely nodded. “Now, my cousin here has recently spent time in the Town, and learned that Stonestar and Featherfall tried to recruit some Town cats to aid them in hunting our medicine cats. Thankfully, Gorsestorm was able to get most to abandon the plot, and it seems the remaining rogue was killed in the attack on Fernfire. That means just Stonestar and Featherfall are left, which is a blessing. I came to meet with you so that we might all convene, barring Oakstar of course- I will be sure to visit him, however.” Rosestar was quick to nod, voicing his own support.

              “I’d be happy to accompany you. I doubt you’d want to travel all the way to Riverclan today, but we can always go tomorrow, or sometime in the next few days. I can meet you at Fourtrees.”

              “That would be perfect- let’s say tomorrow morning then. The sooner we’re all on the same trail, the better.” Shalestar’s eyes sharpened. “Now, you say you have six warriors who can testify that it was Stonestar and Featherfall who attacked?” A nod. “My daughter can testify as well, and while Dipperwing did not technically see either of them, he can attest that his attacker’s faintly smelled of Thunderclan and the Town. Piketail and Splashpaw in Riverclan can testify to Featherfall, at least, and now…” here she cast a look at Mintfrost, “we have three Thunderclanner’s who can testify the same. That makes ten total witnesses, at least two from each clan, which is enough for the burden of proof. We can definitely put him on trial at the next Gathering.”

              This particular aspect of clan justice had to be explained to Teaselpaw. While the clans did war and fight, and cats were sometimes killed in battle, outright murder was strictly forbidden. If there was any doubt about whether or not a cat was killed in self-defense or in defense of another, or was actually killed unjustly, the killer would be put on trial. When it came to cats killed in battle, at least two cats from the accused’s clan and two from the deceased’s clan would have to testify to what they saw, and from there, the leaders of each clan would decide whether or not it was murder. Then, appropriate punishment or reparations would be decided. Things got a little more dicey if there were no witnesses, at which point testimony mostly revolved around the character of the parties. But for the most part, these situations were kept in between the clans involved. Major crimes committed by a warrior, or any crime committed by a leader or medicine cat, had to be investigated at a Gathering Trial. This would include things like abduction, or harming or even killing those cats protected by the Code, namely kits, nursing queens, medicine cats, and elders. The affected clan must also provide at least two witnesses in these scenarios. So, in this case, as each clan had suffered either a murder of a medicine cat or attempted murder thereof, in addition to the fact it was a leader who committed these crimes, each clan had to provide at least two witnesses to that effect and call for a trial at the next Gathering. There was only one issue…

              “We don’t know what Stonestar has told Thunderclan, or even if he will bring them to the next Gathering.” Mintfrost was saying. “If he does not show up, we will need to take this to the Thunderclan camp, which could be disastrous. We need to find out exactly what is going on over there, the sooner the better.” Teaselpaw’s heart cracked at the thinly veiled worry and pain in Mintfrost’s bright green eyes, the molly trying to hide her distress. This must be terrible for her. Further talk, however, was cut off by Snowdrift breezing into the den. He blinked warmly at the gathered cats, starting a bit when Fernfire cleared his throat loudly from somewhere behind the Thunderclanner’s bulk. Sheepishly, the snowy tom scooted out of the entrance, allowing his fellow medicine cat to enter into the shelter of the log.

              “Good afternoon, everyone. Plotting away, eh?” Fernfire mewed amicably, waddling over to sniff at Mintfrost’s dressings. He let out a pleased hum before fixing her with a stern look. “Now, after this we’re going to ice your hip, and then we can see how well you walk, on the condition you stop immediately if it is more painful than uncomfortable, alright?” Ah, so that’s what the snow is for. Teaselpaw realized, impressed with the ingenuity of it. Kestrelcall had spoken of using snow or cold water for fevers or burns, but she hadn’t realized that you could use it for breaks and such as well, although in retrospect it made a lot of sense. She couldn’t help the pang of grief she felt at the thought. Besides just missing Kestrelcall, she was severely disadvantaged by not having him around to teach her all the tips and tricks of their trade. Teaselpaw had had his guidance for such a short time, and she felt the loss every time a gap in her education made itself known. Realizing her mind was wandering, Teaselpaw refocused. It seemed Shalestar was finishing filling in the other medicine cats.

              “We need to plan on what we’re going to do for a variety of scenarios.” The gray leader was saying, and Mintfrost and Rosestar looked thoughtful. After a moment, Rosestar let out a displeased huff.

              “Honestly, I think we need to consult Oakstar before we make any solid plans,” he said, glancing over at Mintfrost. “Maybe, instead of going to meet Oakstar, we should ask him to come here, so that all four of us, alongside our medicine cats, can make a plan. But, in general, we should think about our two options- either Stonestar dares to show up to the Gathering, at which point it’s, at worst, three clans against one, or he doesn’t show, and so we have to bring it to the Thunderclan camp. In my opinion, we should prepare for the worst.” Knowing Shalestar, she was likely unenthusiastic about waiting even just a day to make a plan, but the gray molly nodded.

              “You have a good point,” she conceded. “Alright, I will send a messenger to Riverclan requesting Oakstar meet us at Fourtrees tomorrow morning. We can all meet and return here to figure out our plan- there’s barely two weeks until the Gathering, after all.” Rosestar was nodding, and Briarmask and Gorsestorm both volunteered to be the runner, but Mintfrost interrupted.

              “I agree with the plan, and I appreciate you going to lengths to include me,” she mewed, “but I still must ask that we do something to see what is going on in Thunderclan, and for this I need your help. I’m quite useless at the moment, it’s not safe to send Snowdrift, and this is not something I would ask of an eight moon old apprentice.” Her gaze darted between Shalestar and Rosestar. “I know my father, and I believe he will have tried to pin this on the other clans. He could have told Thunderclan that the three of us are dead, or even traitors, and is rallying the clan to retaliate. We cannot afford bloodshed right now, but I am afraid that’s what we will get.” Snowdrift stepped forward, looking uncharacteristically serious.

              “I had told my brother and his, uh, friend, about what was going on after they caught me leaving camp once,” he said quickly. “So, even if Stonestar is trying to trick Thunderclan, they’ll know the truth, and will hopefully at this point been able to let some other cats know as well.” Mintfrost nodded, looking determined.

              “If Cloudclaw and Tigerwhisker are aware, Cloudclaw will have definitely said something by now, especially to his loved ones. Whitefoot of course will believe her son, and she is my oldest friend. My first apprentice, Nightrock, was Cloudclaw’s mentor, and I know they were close.” She glanced at Snowdrift, and he gave an affirmative nod. “Tigerwhisker would also likely tell her mother and brother, at least, and her mentor, all of whom are likely to believe her as she is an upstanding young cat. That means at least six Thunderclan warriors are unlikely to fall for any of Stonestar’s tricks, or at least are suspicious. If we could somehow get a hold of one of them, even better.” Teaselpaw turned the idea over in her head, trying to figure out a solution. It would be difficult to sneak into Thunderclan territory and spy undetected, especially if Thunderclan was on guard, as they seemed to be if Gorsestorm’s story was anything to go by. She was uncertain if it was worth the risk, seeing as it could cost someone their life. If they could only get a hold of one of the Thunderclan cats Mintfrost mentioned… and actually, one of their names seemed familiar, and not from Snowdrift’s ramblings. Nightrock… yes, she had heard that name before, but where?

              Teaselpaw remembered, suddenly, where she had heard that name before, and was at once intensely embarrassed and conflicted. She had purposefully tried to forget for the moment, made easier by recent events. Oh, she wasn’t supposed to talk about this stuff, especially not to Shalestar and cats from other clans, but what if this would be what saved them? Oh, what to do?

              “Think of something, owl chick?” And the way she jumped was definitely not suspicious, stars help her. Gorsestorm had pinned her with that look, the one full of expectation and potential disappointment should she try to deny it, and now everyone else was looking at her…

              “Uh, yes, but, um…” she desperately looked at Snowdrift and Fernfire, who only looked bemused.

              “Well then, spit it out, froglet,” Rosestar said eagerly, a strange glint in his eye. Briarmask looked similarly interested, and the two of them suddenly reminded Teaselpaw of crows who had caught a glimpse of something shiny.

              “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell anybody about this…” she hedged, but that seemed to only intrigue the Shadowclanners more, even Fernfire sitting at rapt attention. Shalestar shot them all an amused look, Gorsestorm looking deadpan, before giving Teaselpaw an encouraging nudge.

              “It won’t leave this circle,” her leader promised, shooting the gathered cats a much sterner glance, gaze keenly focused on Rosestar, “now will it, anyone?” The gathered cats murmured promises and affirmations, some more sincere than others, and Teaselpaw deflated.

              “Alright,” she mewed quickly, “as long as you all promise.” She took a deep, steadying breath, guilt stirring in her stomach but seeing no other option.

              “Nightrock of Thunderclan and Bluetail of Windclan are… an item.” She rushed out, tripping over the last part. It all came back to the lineages she had been memorizing, which included the pairs Kestrelcall had told her would be seeking bonding ceremonies soon. He had told her lineages were strictly confidential, and that she couldn’t share even the forbidden relationships unless they were publicly disclosed by the couple in question first. Nightrock and Bluetail had been his example. They weren’t technically mates yet, but Kestrelcall had anticipated performing a clandestine bonding at any time, and Teaselpaw suspected that had only been postponed because of the close eye the clans were keeping on their medicine cats. And, so, there weren’t any kits yet, because, as Kestrelcall had explained to her, cats were reluctant to have kittens outside of bonded pairs. Apparently, they believed it would bring the ancestors displeasure down on their children. The more practical reasoning behind bonding, he had explained, was to ensure that family lines were clearly followed and that no one cats blood became spread too widely throughout the clans. By insisting that medicine cats witness all bonding ceremonies and thus were sure of parentage, they could dissuade certain pairings and stop issues before they started. And in this case… “If Nightrock knows what’s going on, we could see when Bluetail planned on next meeting him and see if she can find out what’s happening in Thunderclan. But please,” she added, just a tiny bit desperately, looking at Shalestar and Mintfrost with wide, pleading eyes, “please don’t be mad at them or punish them or anything, I wasn’t supposed to tell you and you weren’t supposed to know, so-“ Shalestar cut her off with a flick of her tail, and Teaselpaw was relieved to see her leader at least didn’t look murderous. She definitely didn’t look happy, but she also didn’t look like a thunder cloud, so Teaselpaw would take it at a win. Mintfrost’s expression was carefully blank.

              “I honestly didn’t know he had it in him,” the deputy murmured, and Rosestar let out a booming laugh.

              “Ahh,” Rosestar purred, “it’s the quiet ones you must watch out for, isn’t it, old girl? Shalestar, I suppose you’ll have some rather burly kits coming in the next year.” Shalestar rolled her eyes.

              “I will speak to Bluetail when we’re home, and I’ll let it slide this time, if only because this might ultimately be what helps us, and it is not public knowledge.” She then slid a sly glance towards Gorsestorm, who looked wary. “And scratch what I said earlier. Two options, then.” Gorsestorm did a perfect imitation of Shalestar’s own eye roll, looking like an embarrassed apprentice. Teaselpaw joined in the laughter, deciding she just had to trust in the discretion of the cats around her. And if the Shadowclanners started a few rumors… well, who believed bog whispers anyway? As the laughter faded Snowdrift shuffled sheepishly across the den, and Mintfrost was now giving him the same look Gorsestorm had just given Teaselpaw.

              “I take it you were aware of this as well?” The deputy mused, and Snowdrift had the grace to look repentant.

              “Ah, yes, I’ve known for a little bit, but honestly I had forgotten about it with all that’s going on. Nightrock barely mentioned it to me anyway, said that Kestrelcall was going to take care of it.” Mintfrost nodded before letting out a sigh.

              “Would explain why he’s never in camp anymore. He’s always been quiet, I just thought current events were too much for him.” The molly shook her head, refocusing on Shalestar and Rosestar. “Hopefully, this is the break we need to find out what is going on, and who knows- maybe Oakstar will have some insight we don’t have. I’d say we have enough of a plan to move forward at the moment.” The gathered cats all nodded, and Fernfire gave his coat a shake.

              “Excellent! Now, I have been gracious thus far, but there really are too many of us in such a small den. We can finish this outside.” Rosestar let out an amused snort, Shalestar giving the medicine cat an indulgent blink. The warriors and medicine cats all trooped outside, forming a small circle outside the medicine den. Crowcall, clearly awake and probably listening in, gave them all a sheepish smile. Briarmask shot him a look that was probably meant to be reproachful, but mostly looked affectionate. Had something happened there?

              “Alright, let’s all leave camp at dawn to meet at Fourtrees tomorrow,” Shalestar mewed. “I’ll send a messenger to Riverclan requesting Oakstar meet us then.” Gorsestorm immediately perked up.

              “I can go,” he mewed quickly, “I can leave from here.” Shalestar gave him a considering look before shaking her head.

              “You can go, but I don’t want you going alone, especially since Stonestar seems to have it out for you. We’ll go back to camp and you can take a rest before someone goes with you.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Robinsong wasn’t assigned to any patrols today, so she will probably be available.” In an incredible show of maturity, Gorsestorm didn’t react besides a twitch of an ear, face carefully blank. Letting out a disappointed hum, Shalestar returned her attention to the Shadowclan cats. “Thank you for meeting with us. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow. This needs to be finished.” Rosestar gave her a firm nod in return, Briarmask looking similarly determined.

              “You can count on it. I’ll give you an escort back to the border. In the meanwhile, stars light your path.” With murmured goodbyes, Rosestar waved a couple warriors over, two brown tabbies who seemed similar enough to be littermates. They introduced themselves as Clayfang and Browntail, and the group set off. When they returned to the road, the three Windclan siblings were sparring on the other side, fur fluffed up against the cold breeze. They stood at attention as their leader appeared, and Teaselpaw noticed the disturbed snow on the road. Cars must have started coming through as the day progressed, making nerves jumble in her stomach. They listened to an approaching rumble, crouching as a car came whipping around a corner, buffeting them with hot air as it passed. After a few moments of silence, Shalestar waved them forward. This time Teaselpaw was side by side with Shalestar and Gorsestorm as they crossed, the taller warriors ready to drag her out of the way of any oncoming traffic. After a few beats they were safely across, waving goodbye to the Shadowclan brothers across the road. Shalestar looked down to Teaselpaw, an unamused look on her face.

              “Time to speak with Bluetail.”

________________________________________________________________

              It’s funny that there’s a Bluetail in Windclan and a Browntail in Shadowclan. Teaselpaw mused, I wonder if there’s a Greentail or something in one of the other clans. The apprentice was nervous, sitting alongside Shalestar in the leader’s den as they waited for the dark gray molly to appear. From what she knew, Bluetail was a kindly and well-respected warrior, about a winter or so older than Gorsestorm, putting her at about three winters. Old enough to know better, Shalestar had grumbled. The different clans had different opinions regarding interclan relationships. While not as strict as Shadowclan, Windclan always preferred their outside blood to come from loners as opposed to enemy warriors. In different circumstances, Bluetail would be facing a stiff punishment for being caught in a relationship with the Thunderclan tom. She would have been constantly monitored by a clanmate, forbidden from attending Gatherings, possibly forced to sleep outside the camp… The kits, of course, would never experience a consequence, as they were both innocent and the clan couldn’t begrudge the new blood. But there were no kits yet, and the rest of the clan was unaware of what was going on, so technically the only thing Bluetail was guilty of was spending too much time with an enemy warrior, which really only required a stern talking to. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be more than that, especially since this might be their saving grace.

              Teaselpaw tried not to shrink into herself as Bluetail slipped into the den, face calm but ear twitching nervously. Never a good thing to be called in to speak to your medicine cat and leader. To the warrior’s credit, she faced the situation bravely, giving them both a respectful nod as she neatly sat before them.

              “To what do I owe the pleasure, Shalestar?” Bluetail mewed, and Shalestar fixed her with a deadpan look.

              “I’ve never been one to play with prey, so I’ll keep this simple. I know about you and Nightrock.” Bluetail stiffened, eyes wide. “However, you’ll probably be pleased to know I am going to let this slide, on the condition that you do us all a favor, and with the knowledge that if your… situation, ever emerges into the public sphere, I will react accordingly.” The dark gray molly nodded, looking both relieved and chagrinned.

              “I appreciate both your honesty and your clemency,” she rasped. “What can I do to help?”

              “We need to know what’s happening in Thunderclan.” Shalestar said seriously, leaning forward. “I’m assuming you meet with Nightrock somewhat regularly?” A nod. “How about tonight?” Bluetail looked uncertain, shifting where she sat.

              “With everything going on, we haven’t seen each other as much.” She mewed slowly. “But I can try to go to our spot, see if he shows up.” Shalestar gave a displeased hum.

              “Well, we’ll work with what we have. I am going to meet with Oakstar and Rosestar tomorrow at dawn, and I’d like to have knowledge of Thunderclan before then. Do your best to get it for me. If anyone bothers you about why I called you in here, you can just tell them I’ve tasked you with some reconnaissance I’d like to keep quiet. You are dismissed.” Bluetail nodded quickly, shooting Teaselpaw a glance. She gave the warrior a sheepish grin, relieved to see the molly didn’t look upset about the whole thing, and deflated as soon as Bluetail slipped out of the den. Shalestar also slumped forward, letting out a huff. Teaselpaw gave her a curious look.

              “I hate stuff like this,” the leader admitted with a wry grin. “Babysitting my warriors and telling them who they’re allowed to fall in love with is not my idea of fun. Much too complicated for my liking.” Teaselpaw couldn’t help but laugh at that, her earlier relief now settling the upset feeling that had been constantly plaguing her stomach lately. Gorsestorm was home, they had, well, a plan for a plan, and hopefully, this situation would be resolved within a moon, and they could focus on recovering from the tragedies that had rocked their whole world.

              Kestrelcall, Poppypaw, Falconstar, Reedpelt, she prayed, help guide us to your justice. Help us get you home.

First / Prev / Next

[overgrowth-wc]

Death before dishonor, right? 

              Snowdrift was continually surprised at how things could get worse.

              He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so afraid as when that Windclan warrior had barged into camp, breathless and desperate with fear. Stonestar was conveniently not in camp, but Mintfrost let him accompany the tom back to the moor under the condition Cloudclaw and Tigerwhisker went as well. The Thunderclan warriors had done their best to keep up with the dark tabby, but they were no match for his speed, even as tired as he was, and they could all sense the other warrior’s increasing desperation as he waited for them to catch up again and again. Finally, they had burst into the Windclan camp, Cloudclaw and Tigerwhisker nearly collapsing as they stopped to try and catch their breath. Snowdrift didn’t have that luxury, hurrying forward to follow the warrior into the medicine den.

              Snowdrift did his best not to look at Kestrelcall’s body where it was laid in the middle of camp, snowflakes dusting his still flanks.

              His heart broke as he entered the medicine den. Shalestar was curled around her daughter where she lay unnervingly still, a brown tom sitting slumped beside them. Her son was pressed up against the back wall, frustration and fear leaking into the air around him. Teaselpaw was fussing over Dipperwing, who was awake and trembling. The poor tom’s bright orange eyes were just… gone. Teaselpaw looked up at him as he approached, gently murmuring to the warrior so as not to startle him.

              “I never went over eye injuries with…” The little molly choked, her tail bushed out in fear. “Please, you’re his only chance.” And thankfully, Snowdrift had known what to do, as unpleasant as it was. He had had to recruit Cinderfall, instructing the dark gray tabby to hold Dipperwing in place while they worked on his eyes. Cleaning away the blood and other viscera had been gruesome and painful for the black tom, who had keened and occasionally thrashed as they worked, but Snowdrift was reluctant to give him poppy seeds until he was more certain the tom could handle it. After an eternity Dipperwing was laying quiet, finally asleep. They had packed his wounds carefully with poultices and cobwebs, and Snowdrift could only sigh as he sat back on his haunches.

              “He’s not out of the woods yet,” he said quietly to Teaselpaw, who looked absolutely exhausted. She looked like a sleepy kit with her droopy eyes, rubbing harshly at her runny nose, and Snowdrift felt like ice had pierced his heart at the sight. None of them deserve this, he thought despairingly, leaning forward to offer Teaselpaw a supportive nudge. Oh ancestors, why is this happening?

              It was dawn by the time they finished, and Snowdrift had stayed most of the next day. Cloudclaw and Tigerwhisker had offered their services to Shalestar while they waited, going out with a hunting patrol and actually having some success in hunting rabbits. The leader had been beyond grateful, promising Snowdrift that anytime he or Thunderclan needed anything, just send for Windclan and they would be there. It was a powerful thing, having the favor of a leader and whole clan, and Snowdrift was humbled by it. He spent the rest of the day going back and forth between Silverfang and Dipperwing, checking their wounds and teaching Teaselpaw how to treat them effectively and what signs to look for in order to keep infection at bay. By the evening time he had done everything he could. If the warriors survived, they would have a long road ahead of them. Obviously Dipperwing would have to adjust to his new blinded state, and Snowdrift suspected that the damage to Silverfang’s throat would affect her ability to speak. The snowy tom also suspected that neither warrior would be able to identify their attackers. Silverfang would most likely be mute and would have difficulty relaying what she saw if- no, when she woke. It seemed like Dipperwing had been blinded before he was able to see his assailants, which would explain why they didn’t try harder to kill him. All in all, Snowdrift wasn’t sure how much they’d be able to learn from the two of them. He had then helped Teaselpaw perform Kestrelcall’s burial ceremony, and then, well. Went home. Which is where he was met with his own continued difficulties over the next couple weeks.

              Aside from the whole adventure of sneaking out to meet the others, being caught, having to explain to a concerned Cloudclaw and Tigerwhisker all that had happened, and then actually meeting, discovering the truth, and planning with the others, Softgaze was sick.

              His mentor had had a persistent cough plaguing her since her return to Thunderclan a few weeks ago. Now, it was full on illness, with Softgaze confined to her nest. He was doing everything he could to make her comfortable, but in all honesty, the molly was very, very old- by her reckoning, this was her fifteenth winter, so the unfortunate reality was that it would be her last. Snowdrift spent every moment he could spare by her side, trying to hold on to the time he had left with her. Cloudclaw and their mother were obviously worried about him, bringing him food and encouraging him to take a break. Even Turtlepaw had stopped by to check on him a few times, the little molly even giving him a nudge when she left. He appreciated their support, as it kept his head above water, but each time he awoke he had a brief moment of fear that Softgaze had passed while he was asleep.

              Now, he was gently grooming her ears as she twitched and wheezed, caught up in some dream. The stubborn old healer refused to let him ‘waste herbs’ on her, and so he was limited to giving her poppy seeds and honey to soothe her, both of which they had in abundance. Softgaze was spending more and more time asleep these past few days, and Snowdrift knew she would pass any day now. Sooner rather than later. So, he would take this moment, in the quiet predawn hour, safe and warm in the den he spent the best moons of his life in, and offer her the same steadfast support she had always given him.

              Snowdrift was roused from his thoughts as Softgaze snorted, her heavy-lidded eyes barely blinking open. She lifted her head and sniffed the air, letting out a sigh as she realized he was there.

              “Snowdrift, my boy,” she wheezed, “I have some things I want to tell you, before I go.” She had been saying that a lot lately. Telling him old clan secrets and stories that he had never known, good and bad parts of their history he would be able to carry on to the next generation. Just the other day she had told him of a story her own mentor had told her, from way back when he was a kit, of how he had been told by his grandmother that she had been part of another clan, a fifth clan, that the rest had done their best to forget. Softgaze hadn’t been able to judge the truth of the story, but she had passed it on to Snowdrift nonetheless, in case one day it became important for him to know. These legends and half truths were fascinating to him, and so he leaned in more closely so he could hear his mentor without her having to strain her voice.

              “It’s about Stonestar.” And that made him pause. He had told Softgaze the night before last, after the meeting, about Stonestar and Featherfall, and the ancient healer had been so grief stricken at the news he resolved to not bring it up again. It didn’t matter much now, how much she did or did not know, and so he decided to spare her as much as he could. “But first, I must tell you something else,” Softgaze murmured.

              “When I was a kit, I had a dream, and in that dream a cat I had never seen before told me I would be a medicine cat, the longest lived the clans had ever seen. He also told me that I would struggle, however, because I would try to change things I couldn’t because of the knowledge I would receive. He warned me to never act hastily, and to never interfere with things beyond my control.” She coughed. “I didn’t listen to him, and so I learned that lesson the hard way.”

              “My mentor wasn’t very old when he took me on, but he was prone to wandering and forgetfulness, and so there was pressure for him to retire once I received my name. On my naming night, I received a prophecy, saying my mentor would never be able to retire, as he would be dead within the day, and that I must be prepared to take over his position. I tried to prevent this from happening, to save him from his fate, and in doing so I indirectly caused his death.” Snowdrift was burning with questions but held his tongue, eager to hear what Softgaze was trying to tell him. “This sort of thing happened several times over the course of my career. The last time it happened, when I finally learned my lesson, was what brought Stonestar to the clan in the first place.” And now that was some news. Stonestar wasn’t clanborn?

              “His father was a warrior named Boulderstep, the deputy at the time. He took a kittypet as a mate. Only one kit survived the birth, and the queen was reluctant to let him be a warrior, which caused a rift between her and Boulderstep. He asked me, on my next trip to the Mothermouth, if I could seek some sign about whether or not his son belonged in the clan. I did as he asked, and was told by my former mentor that Boulderstep would bring his child to the clan regardless of what I answered, but that his son would bring disaster to the forest. So, I tried to stop Boulderstep from doing so.” Softgaze let out a heavy sigh and was quiet. Snowdrift couldn’t help but prompt her to continue, feeling like a kit again.

              “What happened?”

              “I don’t remember what I told him to keep him away from the houses, but Boulderstep did not go to see his mate and son for a moon. Then, one day, his son appeared at the edge of camp, starving and nearly dead. His mother had been killed by a car when out looking for Boulderstep, and he had been abandoned by his twolegs. He had struggled to survive and find his way to the forest, and eventually made his way to our camp. Boulderstep was furious. He blamed me and the ancestors for preventing him from saving his mate and providing for his son. The clan took the kit in and Boulderstep renamed him, to give him a new start in life. So he was Stonekit from then on. But before then…” Softgaze gave a terrible, ragged cough, “His name was Minty.”

              Snowdrift could only blink, mind whirring at the news. Minty. Stonestar’s name was Minty, he must’ve named Mintfrost after himself, like his father had renamed him, and that meant…

              “I was afraid, when you told me of your omen,” Softgaze whispered. “It had been years since Stonestar came to us, and I had hoped that maybe, because I had learned my lesson, what had been warned would not come to pass. I did not know what it meant, this disaster, if it would be something he would do or if the child he brought into this world would be it. Stonestar or Mintfrost. I was afraid that if I interfered again, revealed what I knew to you, about Stonestar’s heritage, that it would throw everything out of balance, that once again the fate I was so determined to avoid would come to pass by my actions. And now I am afraid that I should have spoken up, and maybe my friends would not be dead. Murdered, by my inaction.” Her voice was heavy with guilt and regret, and Snowdrift hated the sound of it. He wrapped himself carefully around her, pressing his face into her shoulder.

              “You did the right thing,” he insisted, becoming increasingly sure of his words as he spoke them. “If you had told me before I wouldn’t have believed Stonestar capable of doing this, and I would have been even more sure it was Mintfrost’s fault. It may be the only reason there are any medicine cats left at all.” He had to believe it, for both of their sake’s. Softgaze gave him a weak smile.

              “Thank you, Snowdrift. You’ve always been such a compassionate young cat. I couldn’t be more proud, and I want you to know that I feel completely at peace, knowing you’ll be taking care of the clan when I’m gone.” Softgaze said that every time she was falling asleep, as if she was afraid it would be the last time she could tell him. Still, the snowy tom purred, giving the old molly an affectionate nuzzle.

              “It’s all because of you and your teachings. I owe you everything.” His own part of this sad little ritual they had made together. Softgaze gave him a stuttering purr in return, and soon she had drifted back off to sleep. Snowdrift sighed, deciding it would be best to take a nap himself. He hadn’t really been sleeping lately, and he finally felt comfortable enough to do so. Closing his eyes and snuggling closer, he drifted off.

________________________________________________________________

              A pale brown tabby tom was standing before him, looking at him with sad but kind eyes. Softgaze was standing next to the tom, looking younger than he had ever imagined her. She stood tall and strong, fur thick and gleaming, no trace of white on her face. She smiled at him, eyes full of love and pride, and then they were gone.

              Snowdrift knew before he opened his eyes that Softgaze was dead.

              He laid there for a moment, eyes screwed tightly shut, and just pretended for a moment that everything was fine. He was still Snowpaw, and Softgaze was letting him share her nest because he missed the press of his mother and brother in the nursery. When he woke, she would tell him to go get them something to eat, as it was best to learn on a full belly. She would lay out their plan for the day while they ate, and then she would teach him everything he could have ever wanted to know and more, answering his endless questions with a matching patience. They would be happy, and he would never even entertain the thought of what he would do without her.

              When he opened his eyes Softgaze was still. She looked peaceful, like she would blink awake at any moment and ask him why he let her sleep so late. Snowdrift took a moment to memorize that expression, just one last time, before he slowly stood and pushed his way through the ivy curtain. Blankly, he gazed out at the clearing. At the roiling emotions he felt building in his chest he took a deep breath, and tried to remember what Softgaze had taught him about these moments.

              He could see the snow, the barren branches arching like lightening, the gray clouds beyond them, the whisp of icy smoke from his own breath, a lone crow soaring through the winter sky. He could feel the sand beneath his paws, the patchy dawn sun on his fur, the ivy curtain brushing his back, the snowflakes settling on his whiskers. He could hear the dry branches rustling, the murmur of his clanmates as they began to wake, the caw of the crow as it landed somewhere nearby. He could smell the leaf litter as it decomposed outside the camp, the icy cold of the morning air.

              He could taste the grief, heavy and bitter in the back of his throat.

              With that, Snowdrift, medicine cat of Thunderclan, stepped forward to go share the news of Softgaze’s death with his clan.

________________________________________________________________

              The rest of that day and night passed by in a blur. His paw steps had led him to Whitefoot, first, and she had helped him spread the news to the rest of the clan. Snowdrift had felt sick when Stonestar expressed his grief, shaken at how good of an actor his leader was, how much of a manipulator he had turned out to be. Mintfrost had been silent by her father’s side, but she had given Snowdrift an empathetic blink, and he had seen the true grief welling in her eyes. He had prepared Softgaze’s body for burial alone, grooming her fur and scattering her body with sweet herbs. Cloudclaw had helped him carry her body to the clearing, and they had spent the rest of that day and night in mourning. The camp was draped in grief, weighing down on them like snow on tree limbs. Snowdrift periodically lead different prayers and blessings, and different cats would share stories of Softgaze- the loved ones she had saved, the advice she had given, some stories humorous, other’s full of grief. Finally, Snowdrift had said the final blessing, and he, Stonestar, Mintfrost, and the elders, Beesting and Acornpelt, had brought her body out to be buried. Snowdrift chose an aspen tree not far from camp, where Softgaze had taken him when the weather was nice, and where they had spent many golden afternoons together. Mintfrost helped him find stones to pile over the grave, and he laid down a wreath of dried heather he had made earlier on top of the stones. Softgaze had loved the smell of it, often times collecting some on their way back from the Mothermouth to perfume her nest with. He had found it tucked under the moss of her unused bed when he cleaned it out that morning, and thought it fitting to place on her grave.

              After leading the final blessing, he had numbly followed the others back towards camp, stumbling after them in the dark. Plenty was running through his mind, leaving him dizzy and slow. It made sense that he didn’t notice until then that something was off about Stonestar. He slowly turned it over in his mind as they arrived back at the ravine, when he bid goodnight to his clanmates and slumped his way over to the empty den that awaited him. Was it just that he knew now that his leader was a traitor? No, he had known that for days, and this was a new feeling. Was he just disturbed, that Stonestar could give such a convincing display of grief when Snowdrift knew the tom must be gleeful inside? No, while distaste roiled in his stomach at the thought, this was again something different. The exhaustion had almost lulled him to sleep when it hit him like a car, and his eyes snapped open.

              Stonestar had lost a life.

              He didn’t know how he knew. Softgaze had told him that medicine cats just knew how many lives their leaders had because of their connections to the stars. So while Snowdrift didn’t have any evidence to support it, he knew for a fact that Stonestar had lost a life, and that the brown and white tom only had one left. Which meant something had happened, possibly something terrible. Had Stonestar and Featherfall made another move? Were the others alright? No one had sent runners saying another cat was dead, but how else would Stonestar have lost a life if not in the commission of one of his crimes? Hope stirred in Snowdrift’s stomach at the thought. Could the attack have failed? Were there others, now, who knew the truth? He needed to speak to the others, and quickly. There was no time to waste if they now had the opportunity to make a move of their own. He knew the leaders had met the night before Softgaze died. Maybe something had happened then?

              Snowdrift was up the rest of the night, mind spinning as he paced. He needed to go meet with the others and find out what happened, as soon as possible. An idea occurred to him- he could tell Stonestar that he needed to share the news of her death with the others, ask if someone could escort him to the Shadowclan border. That’s where they had figured Stonestar would strike next- he needed to see if Fernfire was alright. As the sun once again peeked into camp, Snowdrift had made his plan, and he set out with a renewed determination.

              It was almost frightening, now, to approach Stonestar’s den, but he had to act like he still loved and trusted his leader, and so Snowdrift padded gently up to the entrance before hesitantly calling out a greeting. The brown and white tabby tom emerged, expression concerned, and Snowdrift made sure his own was tired and conciliatory.

              “I’m sorry if I woke you, Stonestar,” he mewed, dipping his head apologetically. “But I need to ask for an escort. I must inform the other medicine cats of Softgaze’s passing.”  Thankfully, he didn’t need to fake the grief in his words, the way his shoulders slumped under the weight of her death, and he looked as pathetic as he genuinely felt. Stonestar gave him a sympathetic blink, and Snowdrift could only hope that his leader was not suspicious.

              “Of course, my boy,” Stonestar said gently, “I’ll take you myself.” Wasn’t that terrifying, and also the absolute last thing Snowdrift wanted to hear. He froze for a heartbeat, he knew he needed to say something, anything, so he wouldn’t seem suspicious, but his mind was so slow-

              “I’ll go with you, father. It’s too dangerous out there right now, even for you.” And Snowdrift never thought that he would ever be so happy to see Mintfrost, especially recently. He couldn’t deny the relief that flooded through him at the sound of her voice, and he turned to see the deputy walking up to them, a nervous Turtlepaw on her heels. The little calico was staring studiously at the ground, but managed a glance and a weak smile in Snowdrift’s direction. “I’d like Turtlepaw to accompany us as well. It would be good for her to see other clans.” Stonestar was still, and while he was smiling at Mintfrost, his eyes looked blank.

              “Thank you my dear! You’re right- it would be better for all of us to go to ensure Snowdrift’s safety.” Everything in Snowdrift was screaming at the wrongness of it, with the need to shout out that he’s the murderer, he did it, he’s lying! But that would do more harm than good, and so he swallowed his fear and distaste and instead nodded to his leader and deputy.

              “Thank you,” he murmured. “I would like to go to Shadowclan first, if you don’t mind. I want to work out with Fernfire what this will mean for the apprentices.” And my, today was full of surprises, because he also never had been able to lie so smoothly in his life. Maybe all this deception and trickery is rubbing off on me, he mused bitterly to himself. Stonestar agreed readily and lead the way out of camp. Mintfrost stopped to murmur some instructions to Whitefoot about making sure the camp was guarded while they were gone, and Snowdrift couldn’t help but wonder how he had never noticed how good the molly actually was at her job.

              The odd little group walked in silence, Stonestar and Mintfrost on alert, Turtlepaw trotting alongside Snowdrift. The apprentice had always been small, and it didn’t seem like she was growing much bigger, as she had to take two steps for every one Snowdrift took. Still, she gamely kept up, and soon enough they came to the Shadowclan border.

              “A patrol will likely be coming by soon,” Stonestar said, taking a moment to seat himself comfortably just beyond the tree line. “They will see us and know we need something from them. We just have to wait until then.” And so began the most awkward silence of Snowdrift’s life. Stonestar and Mintfrost were silent, staring out into the pine trees with matching serene looks and perfectly still posture. Snowdrift couldn’t help but fidget, and every time he shuffled or twitched Turtlepaw would do the same, as if she were waiting for permission to shift uncomfortably herself. Mercifully, it wasn’t too long before the promised Shadowclan patrol appeared. Snowdrift didn’t recognize any of them- there was a brown tom, a gray and white spotted tom, a lanky black molly, and finally a dark gray tom with long fur. It seemed the patched tom was the patrol leader, as he stepped forward to call across the Thunder path.

              “To what do we owe the pleasure, Stonestar?” And it didn’t seem like the tom was all that enthusiastic to see them. Stonestar ignored that, however, rising to his feet as he called an answer.

              “I’m afraid our medicine cat has some news to share with yours. I, my daughter, and her apprentice are escorting him.” Technically, there was now no way for the Shadowclanner’s to refuse them an escort to their camp. Medicine cats had special privileges and immunities when it came to travelling the territories, and those exceptions also applied to those who accompanied them. The Shadowclan tom, realizing this, turned to confer with his clanmates. A moment later, the brown tom had taken off back into the pines, and the gray and white tom had turned to wave them over.

              They moved in pairs when crossing the icy road, first Stonestar and Snowdrift, then Mintfrost and Turtlepaw. Snowdrift couldn’t help but think that, should a car suddenly appear, Stonestar was more likely to throw him under it than help him escape it’s grasp. The thought put more fire in his step, and thankfully, they all crossed without incident. The Shadowclan tom nodded to them as they came up to the patrol.

              “Well met,” he greeted. “My name is Houndtooth. This is my daughter, Batflight, and Shadefur. We have sent Clayfang ahead to let Fernfire know you’re coming.” With an abrupt turn, Houndtooth began leading the way to the Shadowclan camp.

              Beside him Turtlepaw was gazing around at the pines in wonder, almost hopping along as she stopped and started, taking in as much of the new environment as she could. Snowdrift couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, happy that at least someone was having a good time. Shadowclan territory all looked the same to him, although he knew he had only been in a very limited part of it. All medicine cats visited each other’s camps at some point, so in the case of emergency they could find their way there unescorted. The route they were taking was familiar to him, and so he had time to wonder and worry about what would happen next.  When they came to the camp Batflight and Shadefur stayed outside while Houndtooth led them in. In the clearing, Rosestar and Fernfire already awaited them, the leader stoic while the healer looked concerned.

              “Greetings, Stonestar,” Rosestar said smoothly, sitting perfectly still and looking completely unperturbed at their arrival. “Welcome to Shadowclan. Your medicine cat has news for us?” He was speaking to Stonestar but looking at Snowdrift, who took it as a sign to step forward and explain himself. He swallowed hard before doing so, conscious of the Shadowclanners lurking around the edges of the camp.

              “I am afraid I bring bad news- Softgaze has succumbed to her illness and is now with the ancestors.” Fernfire bowed his head in grief, and Rosestar gave them all a sympathetic blink.

              “Ah, how unfortunate. My deepest condolences. The clans have lost a remarkable cat. We will all feel her absence.” Snowdrift bowed his head gratefully before looking back over at Fernfire.

              “If I may stay a moment, I’d like to discuss with Fernfire a plan for the apprentices moving forward. I promise to be brief.” Rosestar shook his head, which made Snowdrift’s stomach drop, but the pointed tom was looking at him kindly.

              “No worries, lad, take as much time as you need. Why don’t you both retire to the medicine den? I would like to speak to Stonestar and Mintfrost about our own plans, seeing as I have the unexpected opportunity to do so.” Wily old thing indeed. But he was never one to turn town an unexpected boon, and so he left the leaders and deputy conversing with each other while he accompanied Fernfire to his den. Briefly worried about Turtlepaw he glanced back over his shoulder, only to see her surrounded by a small swarm of Shadowclan apprentices, all of whom seemed happy to see her.

              When they got to the den, Snowdrift was surprised and dismayed to see a wounded black tom stretched out across the floor, a pensive Briarmask curled up beside him. She lifted her head as the medicine cats entered, looking surprised to see Snowdrift.

              “What’s going on?” She demanded, quickly rising to her feet. “Is something wrong?” Fernfire gave her a chiding look as he cast a look at the tom.

              “Hush! Crowcall is sleeping!” He whispered, defensiveness over his patient making his temper flare, but Briarmask only snorted.

              “Crowcall is most definitely not sleeping,” she mewed drily, casting her own look at the tom, “but he is trying to eavesdrop. You can just participate like a normal cat, you know.” Sheepishly, Crowcall raised his head, giving Snowdrift a friendly blink.

              “Ah, but I am merely a humble Shadowclan warrior,” he drawled dramatically, fake humility dripping off his words, “who am I to meddle in the affairs of my betters?” The act was closed with an innocent blink, and Briarmask looked torn between laughing and rolling her eyes.

              “Snowdrift, this is Crowcall, Crowcall, Snowdrift, now, tell us what happened.” As quickly as he could, Snowdrift told them what he had learned from Softgaze about Stonestar’s backstory, and how it had confirmed everything they had been suspecting.

              “I’m going to tell Mintfrost once I get a chance to speak to her alone, but I could tell that Stonestar lost a life, and I was worried about Fernfire. I also wanted to see what happened with the leaders.” Snowdrift finished, and Briarmask hummed thoughtfully before telling their own part.

              “Long story short, Stonestar and Featherfall attacked myself, Crowcall, and Fernfire, and Sparkkit, who had snuck out of camp with his siblings to ‘help us’. They were accompanied by a Town tom who we have learned was the leader of a local gang- he was promised hunting rights in clan territory should he help our local murderers. Crowcall managed to take a life from Stonestar and then some other warriors chased them off. Honestly, we weren’t expecting to see Stonestar again so soon, so I don’t know how Rosestar plans on handling this, since almost ten Shadowclanners saw Stonestar that night.” The pointed molly let out a gusty sigh, and Fernfire stepped forward.      

              “The meeting with the leaders went well,” he said, sounding relieved. “Piketail managed to convince Oakstar to listen to the others, and Shalestar was a huge help in getting him to believe that Stonestar is really behind this. They are planning on doing a trial at the Gathering- we were going to try and find a way of letting you know beforehand, so it’s good that you’re here. But yes, you need to get Mintfrost in the loop as soon as possible.” Snowdrift nodded agreeably, worriedly glancing over his shoulder to the entrance of the den.

              “I’m afraid Stonestar is going to figure out that I know,” he confessed quietly. “He was going to take me here alone this morning, but Mintfrost intervened. I think he might try to get rid of me now that Softgaze is gone.” And it was true, a lingering fear heightened by the events of the morning. If Mintfrost hadn’t stepped in…

              Briarmask purred, giving him a gentle shove. “Don’t worry. As much as I hate to admit it, once you let Mintfrost know she’ll never let anything happen to you. That molly is terrifying.” He couldn’t help but laugh at that. On the ground, Crowcall hummed thoughtfully.

              “I’d say if it gets bad, have someone sneak you out, either to us or to Riverclan. I know you don’t want to abandon your clanmates, but it would only be until the Gathering, when we take care of this. Better you to be gone for a couple weeks than be gone forever, yeah?” A blunt way of putting it, but the other tom had a point. Snowdrift nodded gratefully.

              “I’ll ask Uncle to make sure we always have cats near the border, just in case you need to spilt unexpectedly.” Briarmask added. “That way, even if you have to go by yourself, you’ll have cats here ready to help.” Snowdrift couldn’t help the affection and gratitude that warmed his chest at their words. It was amazing to see, in a way, cats who he hadn’t known three moons ago, and some he still didn’t really know, willing to do whatever they could to help him. He gave all of the Shadowclanners a thankful nudge, including Crowcall, who gave him a grin in return. At that moment, a hesitant voice called around the entrance of the den.

              “Snowdrift? Uh, Stonestar says it’s time to go.” Turtlepaw, sounding only a little nervous. He looked at his companions before giving them a nod, which they returned. Having said his goodbyes, he followed Turtlepaw back out into the camp. The group had been joined by Marshfoot, and Snowdrift was almost taken aback by how everyone managed to stay civil and even casual when he knew, deep down, they’d tear each other apart if they had a chance.

              “Alright, my boy, Rosestar has agreed to send his niece to Windclan to let them know about Softgaze so we don’t have to make the trek. Did you work something out with Fernfire?” Snowdrift then remembered what he was supposed to have been talking to Fernfire about, and gave Stonestar a hasty nod.

              “Yes, Stonestar, we did. The apprentices should still be alright, even with only the two of us to help.” Stonestar rumbled a purr, which grated on Snowdrift’s nerves like the rumble of an unexpected car.

              “Good, good. Let’s head back to camp, then, and try Riverclan later- it looks like it’s about to storm, and I don’t want to try and cross the river in a blizzard.” Snowdrift reluctantly agreed, as it was starting to snow, and the flakes were only getting bigger and coming faster. Besides, he had technically accomplished his goal, so he placidly followed along after Stonestar and Mintfrost as they lead the way out of camp. They were accompanied by Houndtooth, who followed them all the way back to the border and waited until they crossed back into their own territory. By that time, the snow was falling heavily, the howling wind swirling it around. It was starting to obscure their vision and piling up on the ground. Snowdrift made sure to stay close to Turtlepaw, worried about her getting lost in the snow- the only thing that kept her from disappearing in the whiteout were the black and orange patches on her back and ears. He was having a hard time seeing Stonestar and Mintfrost in front of them, their brown and white coats perfectly camouflaging them against the snowy forest. Eventually he couldn’t see them at all, and he came to a stop, wary of being stranded alone in the bad weather. Well, alone with Turtlepaw, who was shivering beside him.

              “Do you know where we are?” She called over the wind, looking around nervously. He shook his head. Everything looked the same in the snow, and he didn’t know if he had kept their same path or had wandered into a different part of the territory.

              “We need to find someplace to wait this out!” He shouted, tucking the apprentice against his left side, so he could hear her if she asked him anything. Snowdrift then started off again, looking for some kind of shelter. They hadn’t gotten very far at all when his fears were realized.

              Abruptly, Stonestar appeared in front of them, Mintfrost no where to be found. Snowdrift stopped, placing himself partially in front of Turtlepaw in his fear. His leader was looking at them with a blank face, dead eyes, unmoving except for the wind buffeting his fur. Turtlepaw, sensing something was wrong, tucked herself closer to Snowdrift’s side, looking up at him worriedly.

              “What’s going on?” She whispered. Snowdrift closed his eyes for a brief moment before smiling down at her.

              “Don’t worry about it, alright? Now, I need you to do something for me. You’re one of our best trackers- you need to go find Mintfrost.” He jerked his head towards where they had come from, encouraging her to leave, but Turtlepaw was hesitant, looking up at him with an unnerved gaze, and it was then that Stonestar spoke.

              “We both know it’s too late for that now. Neither of you are going anywhere.” He was starting to slowly stalk forward, the perfect predator, and Snowdrift was starting to feel very much like a frozen rabbit in the snow. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but I know you are aware of what’s going on, and unfortunately, there’s no room for you and your kind in the forest anymore. It’s regrettable the apprentice is here, but…” Stonestar trailed off, now halting only a couple tail lengths away, and gave them a grin Snowdrift could only describe as malicious. “Well, Thunderclan has no use for cats like her anyway.” With that the tom leapt forward and Snowdrift braced himself for the hit-

              But Turtlepaw was gone from his side now, barreling forward with all her strength to intercept Stonestar’s attack. Her sudden hit managed to knock the tom off balance, and he went tumbling into the snow, coming up with a furious hiss. Turtlepaw stood not far from him, puffed up to twice her size. The snow was starting to lessen, and Snowdrift could see them more clearly- he was technically between them now, but a few tail lengths away, so he could only see their profiles. Stonestar looked huge, snarling ferociously as he approached Turtlepaw, who stood her ground despite the fact she was shaking with fear and cold.

              “Oh, so now you have the courage to look me in the eye, hm? Maybe you aren’t so useless after all.” Stonestar hissed, and Turtlepaw flinched but kept her gaze on his face, bright blue eyes stark in the snow, and something in Snowdrift’s chest cracked as he looked at her because he knew, he knew it looked like Turtlepaw was glaring directly into Stonestar’s eyes, surprising the leader with her sudden ferocity, but Snowdrift could see the slight angle of her gaze.

              She was looking at his nose.

              And that, for some reason, was what made the fear disappear and let the anger take its place. Turtlepaw didn’t deserve this, to stand before her leader, who should be willing to lay his own life down for her, and know that instead Stonestar would kill her without a second thought. Crowcall didn’t deserve to be lying in a medicine den, Softgaze didn’t deserve to die with regret, Teaselpaw didn’t deserve to be alone without a guide, Dipperwing and Silverfang didn’t deserve to be maimed, Splashpaw didn’t deserve to live in terror, Kestrelcall, Reedpelt, Falconstar, Poppypaw- none of them deserved to die for the sake of revenge, at the whim of the tom standing just a few paces away. And that was what made Snowdrift lunge forward across the snow, a blur of white in a field of it, and crash into Stonestar with all the force he could muster.

              ‘Do you swear to protect the sick, the weak, and the vulnerable, even at the cost of your own life?’

               ‘This I do swear, on my own life and by the stars.’

              And Snowdrift would keep his promise.

              When he sent Stonestar rolling, it was because he had the advantage of surprise. He knew that it wouldn’t last forever, so he pressed his advantage, clawing and snarling as Stonestar scrambled to recover, flinching back with a yowl as Snowdrift tore his claws across one yellow eye. But it didn’t take long for Stonestar to start fighting back, and the healer knew he was completely outclassed but kept trying anyway. He weathered every hit and tried to return them, but Stonestar was smacking him around like a kit with a moss ball. When he went tumbling back to the snow he saw that Turtlepaw had vanished, and sweet relief took away the sting of his wounds. She knew now, and could tell the clan what she had seen, and he could die knowing that they would stop Stonestar before he hurt anyone else. Stonestar was strolling up to where Snowdrift now laid sprawled in the snow, struggling to catch his breath. The storm had lessened considerably now, allowing Snowdrift a clear view of his murderer as he came to a stop, looming above the fallen medicine cat. There was another crunch of footsteps and suddenly Featherfall was there too, and they were looking at him like he was a particularly interesting bug.

              “My, so much trouble from such a soft, slow cat, hm?” Featherfall purred, and Snowdrift tried to think of something Briarmask or Piketail would say.

              “You must be even slower and softer, if I was able to give you troubles,” he wheezed, and it was a little weak, but still enough to cause her to let out an irritated growl, which Snowdrift counted as a win. The dark gray molly  then snorted, looking at her mate with cold eyes.

              “We need to finish this, then go find the apprentice before she tells.” She murmured, and Stonestar nodded slowly. His right eye was swollen shut, but he still looked downright terrifying as he raised his paw to strike the final blow.

              “Mother?”

              Everyone froze. Snowdrift slowly turned his head to the left, where he saw Mintfrost standing at the edge of the small clearing they were in. She was staring at her parents like she had seen a ghost, the whites of her eyes glinting around the green of her irises. She has her mother’s eyes, Snowdrift thought numbly. Mintfrost took a hesitant step forward.

              “Mother… mama, is that really you?” Featherfall’s face shuttered before a smile overcame it, and she turned to face her daughter with a purr.

              “My little mouse, it is so good to see you again.” She said, and Mintfrost took another hesitant step forward.

              “What are you doing.” And now Mintfrost sounded like her usual self, but she still seemed thrown off, something like hope glittering in her eyes as she looked at the mother she thought she had lost forever.

              “You have to see, dear,” Featherfall crooned, looking mournful as she cast a glance down at Snowdrift, “that these medicine cats cause much more trouble than they’re worth. Your grandmother, your siblings, your mate, they all died because of Softgaze. She was to blame for so much misery in our clan, and she couldn’t even do the one thing she was supposed to- she sent me away to the twolegs because of her own incompetence.” Featherfall was getting worked up a bit, limping forward a few steps to draw closer to Mintfrost. “And she wasn’t the only one, dear. What of the other medicine cats? Controlling, manipulative, and oftentimes unable to perform the only role they’re good for. How many cats have died, because of them and their prophecies? Their failure to heal? How many families torn apart, lives ruined, because of their meddling? No,” she said lowly, giving Snowdrift another slow look, “we are much better off without them.” Mintfrost looked angry herself now, stalking forward a few quick paces with a hiss.

              “You let your own grief blind you,” she spat, “and you speak nothing but lies. Softgaze didn’t kill my siblings, the cold did. She didn’t kill my mate, the foxes did, just like they killed my son. And she didn’t kill my grandmother either- no, grandfather did that by his own indifference. The medicine cats are the lifeblood of our clans. Without them, we’re just another pack of rogues playing at nobility.” The deputy’s sides were heaving, but she managed to school her expression so she could give her ultimatum calmly. “Step away from him, right now, because family or not, I will not let you hurt him.” Stonestar, who had been silent up until this point, also stepped away from Snowdrift to pad forward, tone cajoling as he tried to sway Mintfrost to his side.

              “Daughter mine, look…” But Snowdrift missed what he said next as a voice suddenly whispered in his ear.

              “Snowdrift, come on, we have to go!” He would’ve jumped had he not been so tired, but he cricked his neck as he whipped his head around to see Turtlepaw crouching in the snow, using his own bulk to help hide herself from Stonestar and Featherfall. “You have to be quiet, while Mintfrost distracts them,” she whispered desperately, eyes fixed on the backs of the two cats, who had both drawn closer to where the deputy stood, now embroiled in a fierce argument. “We’re still close to Shadowclan, we need to go back to them, they’ll help us, so come on!” She urged, and Snowdrift summoned what strength he had left to carefully pick himself up off the ground. His head was pounding from all the blows Stonestar had landed, a cut above his eye bleeding freely and obscuring his vision. But still, he moved oh so carefully across the clearing, grateful for the wind and powdery snow helping to muffle the sound of his movements. Turtlepaw glided along like a little ghost, casting desperate glances over her shoulder as they went. When they had slunk into the brush ringing the clearing and gotten a little further away, she abruptly stood, urging him to do the same. “Alright,” she declared, nervous gaze still bouncing around their surroundings, as if anticipating an enemy to materialize at any moment, “now we run.”

              And so they did, going as fast as they could back towards the road. Turtlepaw fell back to run along his right side, covering for anybody that might try and sneak up on him that way. They were almost to the tree line when there was a crashing noise behind them, and Snowdrift made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder. Stonestar was right behind them, face a mask of fury as he charged forward. Snowdrift couldn’t help the yelp he let out, putting on as much speed as he could. They had just broken through the trees when a weight crashed into him from behind, sending him sprawling into the grass alongside the road.

              Stonestar was on top of him, lunging forward open jawed, but then Turtlepaw was on top of him, digging her claws into his flanks as she desperately bit at the much larger tom’s ear. Stonestar let out a furious howl, trying to buck the apprentice off, but she clung to him like a stubborn tick. Snowdrift lashed out with his hind legs, knocking the other tom to the side. Turtlepaw used the momentum to leap off of him, landing between her leader and medicine cat.

              “Snowdrift, let’s go!” She cried, making sure he was back on his feet before taking off across the road. Snowdrift followed, Stonestar right on his heels, but this time when the tom leapt, he landed on Turtlepaw instead. Snowdrift skidded to a stop, the ice on the road sending him sliding almost all the way to the other side. He dug his claws in, trying to gain traction as he crawled back towards where Stonestar had the apprentice pinned. She was yowling in fury and terror as he loomed over her, and Snowdrift could only watch as his leader grabbed her by the scruff and shook her like she weighed nothing. Snowdrift had almost reached them when Mintfrost was suddenly there, ripping Stonestar away from her apprentice with a roar. Turtlepaw dropped to the ground, dazed, and then Snowdrift was finally at her side. He tried to help her to her paws but she stumbled, so he just picked her up like a kit, tall enough to carry her without dragging her along the ground. Snowdrift was incredibly aware of the fact that they were in the middle of the road and a car could come at any time, which fueled the adrenaline rush that kept him going. He slipped and slid to the Shadowclan side, carefully setting Turtlepaw down a few tail lengths from the road, before letting out a warning call. Hopefully, Rosestar had sent his cats to monitor the border and help was nearby. Snowdrift then turned back to the road, heart pounding in fear at what he saw.

              Mintfrost and Stonestar were locked in a terrible battle, and Snowdrift finally understood why she was so renowned for her fighting skill. The deputy was more fluid than the river and quick as a snake, ducking and dodging and striking and biting with such ease that she may as well be sparring with a kitten, not fighting her own father. On his part, Stonestar was looking more and more furious, which was leading to him making mistakes. Mintfrost finally sent him sprawling and he slid down the road across the ice, managing to claw his way to a stop.

              “How dare you betray me for him!” The enraged tom snarled, heaving himself back to his feet. “Me! Your own father!” Mintfrost took a challenging step forward, face deathly calm.

              “I don’t care.” She called over the wind, “I don’t care that you’re my father, you’re a murderer! I swore on my life to protect my clan, to protect all cats in my care, and I will do that, even if I have to protect them from you!” Mintfrost then launched herself forward, charging full tilt at the now surprised Stonestar. Is this it? Snowdrift wondered desperately. Is she actually going to end this? But then, for the second time that day, Snowdrift’s fears willed the worst possible scenario into existence.

              Light glinted off the icy road. A roar filled the air. A car was hurtling down the path towards them, straight towards where Mintfrost and Stonestar were once again locked in combat. They looked up at the noise, and the car must have seen them at the same time because a terrible shriek filled the air, and while it started to slow it too couldn’t get a grip on the ice and so it kept barreling forward right towards the two cats, who were now scrambling to get out of it’s way but it was so unimaginably fast and Snowdrift’s heart was in his throat and the car was throwing up snow, obscuring his vision, and it flashed in front of him with another terrible cry but that wasn’t the car it was a cat screaming and now it was gone and the snow was clearing but-

              The was a bloody brown and white form, lying still in the road, alone.

              The only sound was the wind. Turtlepaw shoved herself to her feet.

                “Mintfrost!”

First / Prev / Next

[overgrowth-wc]

Secrets of all kinds are revealed, with mixed results. 

              Briarmask was on a mission, and she was not going to let something as simple as exhaustion get in her way.

              She loped all the way home from Fourtrees, trying to go as fast as possible without completely wearing herself out. Thankfully, Rosestar was awake when she made it back to camp, about to lead a patrol out on a night hunt. One look at her face, however, had him quickly changing plans.

              “Marshfoot, go ahead and take over for me. Happy hunting.” The spotted molly looked curious but let it go, leading the patrol out with a wave of her tail. A dark gray form slunk along at the back- seemed like Shadefur was a part of it. Briarmask gave her a friend a nod, but strangely he didn’t return it, looking distracted. Suspicious, but resolved to bother him about it later, she trotted up to her uncle, jerking her head in the direction of the medicine den. The two pointed tabbies hurried over, Briarmask whispering what she had learned, urgency thick in the air. Fernfire was snoring away in the back of the den, the sound reminding Briarmask of the extra-large cars that sometimes roared down the thunder path. Rosestar seemed to have little concern for the fact the other tom was sleeping so soundly, however, striding right up to where the golden tom lay and giving him a firm shake.

              “Up you get, we know who the murderer is.” One hell of a wake-up call. Fernfire immediately started awake, bleary eyes wide as he stared at Rosestar in confusion.

              “…What?” Rosestar shook him again even harder.

              “Up! Stonestar and his returned-from-the-void mate are wreaking havoc on the territories. We must stop them.” Fernfire staggered up from his nest, scraps of moss tangled in his fur and a bit of down stuck between his ears. Briarmask couldn’t help the snort she let out at the sight- Fernfire was usually fussy about his appearance, so it was rare to see him in such disarray. The medicine cat shook himself roughly, blinking the last bit of sleep from his eyes as he sat down heavily in front of Rosestar.

              “Stonestar? He’s the murderer? How do you know?” Rosestar gave Briarmask an expecting look, and she quickly stepped forward to explain. Fernfire’s brow furrowed more and more as she told him of the meeting, until his screwed-up face reminded her of those odd, wrinkly dogs she saw in the Town sometimes. “Well, I agree it will be hard to convince others without concrete proof. If I hadn’t been so intimately involved in the process of figuring this out, I wouldn’t believe you. However, it makes an unfortunate amount of sense.” Rosestar cleared his throat.

              “We need your help, old friend. As bait.” Briarmask rolled her eyes. It was a miracle Rosestar hadn’t gotten his ears clawed off yet with the abrupt and oftentimes rude way he spoke. At least he had learned to be somewhat more tactful around the other clans. “We must catch Stonestar in the act of attacking another cat, preferably you, so we have credible witnesses to accuse him. We just need to figure out how to go about this in a way that won’t get you killed.” Fernfire seemed unimpressed with the leader’s initial declaration, but now was looking thoughtful. Briarmask took the opportunity to cut in.

              “An important thing to remember is that these two are smart. They must have been to get so far without being found out. If we’re too obvious, they’ll be suspicious, and they might find out we’re on to them. If that happens, who knows what they’ll do next. At least now we have some way of predicting their movements.” Rosestar nodded, eyes darting around as he started to churn out a plan.

              “The scouts told me today they’ve been picking up more rogue scent in different places around the marsh. It would seem they really are targeting Fernfire next, if they’re now spending more time canvassing our territory. I think we need to start scaling back our efforts- make it look like we’re growing complacent. I’ll start by pulling back most of the scouts, only have one tracker go out a day. Then we’ll beef up the border patrols while scaling down the number of cats that accompany you while you’re out, Fernfire.” The medicine cat looked a little concerned.

              “Ah, are you sure you don’t want to scale down the border patrols and keep my guard the same?” He asked nervously. Rosestar shook his head, mind obviously spinning as he came up with his plan.

              “No, no, we need to look like we’re growing complacent without being completely careless. We need them to feel confident in attacking you without thinking we’re easing up too much- by increasing border patrols it will look like I’m still focused on catching the perpetrator, and having one less cat with you will make them feel more bold. It’ll strike a careful balance. That being said, I want you within hearing range of the camp at all times. I will have a rotating group on standby within the camp any time you’re out. That way, you get attacked, someone lets out the call, and then the patrol goes running. That should provide both the protection for you and the witnesses we need to accuse Stonestar.” Briarmask hummed thoughtfully. It was a bit risky- Kestrelcall had been killed even when guarded with two warriors. If they could strike the balance, though, it would be fine.

              It had to be fine.

              Briarmask gave her approval, which Fernfire reluctantly echoed. Rosestar seemed pleased.

              “Alright then,” he mewed, “you can go back to bed, Fernfire. We’ll get started in the morning.” The medicine cat let out a disbelieving huff, but complied, shooing the warriors out of the den so he could curl back up in peace. Briarmask stretched once they were in the clearing, giving herself a rough shake. That was one of three things taken care of. And, since she still had Rosestar’s attention, might as well get another done.

              “Uncle,” she began, “I have a request-” Abruptly, she snapped her mouth shut. Holy hell, she had been about to tell her uncle that his best friend had completely gone against clan rules and fathered a half-clan litter, here, in the middle of the clearing, where anyone could hear or bear witness to the likely ensuing blow up. I need to sleep, at some point, she thought. This is getting ridiculous. Oh stars, Rosestar was looking at her strangely. Clearing her throat, she nervously mewed, “Uh, actually, can we talk in your den really fast?” Then, almost desperately, “Is Auntie in there?” Pinenose could help temper whatever reaction Rosestar had. Thank the blessed stars, Rosestar nodded, although he still looked confused.

              “Yes, since Brooksong and Frogthroat are in the nursery now, she decided to take a break. Sparkkit kicks in his sleep.” Ok, so maybe this wouldn’t go terrible. Briarmask nodded, following Rosestar as he made his way over to his den. Like most dens, it was dug out under a fallen pine. The camp itself was a group of fallen and rotting logs that formed a misshapen half circle. Thorn bushes and other brush were carefully trained into growing in the gaps and formed a solid wall around the rest of the camp, with the nursery being a veritable fortress of thorns. Unfortunately, the camp would flood often in the wet season, forcing cats to share what little space remained above the water line. Rosestar would often have to evacuate his den to share with the warriors, as the dug-out den would usually fill with water first. Still, it was perfectly cozy when dry, and Briarmask took in the familiar smell of moss and rich earth as she slipped through its entrance. Pinenose was curled up in the mossy nest that took up a majority of the floor, but it seemed she was already awake, as she lifted her head to greet them as they came in.

              “Briar, nice to see you. Would be better to see you after dawn.” Briarmask gave her aunt a sheepish smile.

              “Ah, but I need to tell you both something I learned from a friend- and it’s better than a rumor because it’s true.” Shadowclan cats loved rumors. Everybody wanted to keep their business private, but also wanted to know everyone else’s business, but nobody could afford to admit where they learned things lest their own secrets be revealed in return, so… rumors. And maybe, if Briarmask could frame this as a fun little thing she had learned, it would appeal to that part of Rosestar, and he wouldn’t freak out.

              Maybe.

              “Go on.” The gray tabby queen mewed, seeming more interested. Rosestar was leaning forward, eyes alight in curiosity. Well, here goes…

              “You know there were other cats chosen to help the medicine cats.” Nods. “Well, one of them, Piketail, told me something very… interesting, tonight.”

              “The scarred up one, right? Who’s friends with Marshfoot and Frogthroat?” Her uncle interjected. Oh good, Rosestar was already aware of him. Hopefully that was in the Riverclanner’s favor. Briarmask nodded. “Hm, not surprising he was chosen for this. He seems to be a good lad.”

              “Well,” she mewed slowly, “that might have to do with who his parents are. Not that he was aware of who his father was until last night, mind you.” Now she really had their attention.

              “Who is it?” Pinenose asked, now sitting up. Briarmask allowed a moment to build suspense, looking around as if searching for eavesdroppers. Leaning forward, she told them in a conspiratorial whisper.

              “Lizardspots. Can you believe it?” Rosestar froze. Pinenose froze, watching her mate carefully. Briarmask also froze, cautiously watching the emotions that were starting to war in Rosestar’s blue eyes. Delight, at finding out such a well-kept secret. Disbelief, because holy hell, his best friend had kept this from him. Anger, because holy hell, his best friend had kept this from him. With a growl, Rosestar jumped to his feet, Pinenose quickly scrambling up after him.

              “That old snake,” he hissed, fur fluffing in rage, “I knew something was up with him, I knew he was acting suspicious-”

              “Now, dear-” Pinenose tried, but the pointed tom didn’t seem to hear her.

              “Collecting feathers, and, and, shells, and weird rocks, who the hell does that-”

              “Rosey, come on-”

              “Of course it was a Riverclanner, no Town cat cares for those things-”

              “Rosestar. Seriously-”

              “And he didn’t tell me. Me! After everything I- well, he’s got another thing coming. I’m going to use his tail to line my nest-” Pinenose let out a hiss, slamming her forepaw on the ground.

              “Enough! You’re acting a fool. What does it matter now?” Rosestar stared at her, sides heaving as he tried to rein his temper in. “It’s been years, Rosestar. He obviously had good reason to keep it from you, seeing how you’re reacting, even after all this time.” That caused Rosestar to deflate a bit, and Briarmask felt some tension leave her shoulders. “Yes, it was wrong for him to do. Yes, he should have told you anyway. But what’s done is done.” Rosestar sighed, giving his mate a small, rueful smile.

              “Ah, you’re right. As always, my dear.” He then turned to Briarmask. “While I will definitely be taking this up with Lizardspots later, I’m curious to know why Piketail decided to share this with you.” She cleared her throat before answering.

              “He’d like to speak to you, uh, at some point. He said he wants to join Shadowclan.” That seemed to give Rosestar some pause. The tom hummed thoughtfully to himself before answering.

              “Well, that’s certainly some request. I’ll think about it. And I’ll have to speak to Oakstar of course.” That was about as good as she was going to get for now, so she’d take it. She gave her uncle a respectful nod, carefully beginning to edge her way to the entrance of the den.

              “Thank you, Uncle. It was nice seeing you, Auntie. Better to see you later.” Pinenose gave her an exasperated look before flicking her tail in dismissal. Briarmask didn’t wait, turning and exiting the den as fast as she could without looking like she was running away. All in all, it hadn’t gone too badly. Now, she needed to take a nap so she could head out to the Town in the morning. Briarmask ducked into the warrior den, looking for Batflight. Spotting the molly in the back corner, she carefully picked her way around her sleeping clanmates before slumping down beside her friend. It had been a long day, and tomorrow was shaping up to be even longer. Nettle, she thought as she began to drift off, guide my pawsteps tomorrow. Help me make this journey into Town a safe one.

              With that, she was asleep.

________________________________________________________________

              It was freezing outside, and Briarmask had never been so grateful for her thick coat.

              She was loitering near the entrance to the warrior’s den, waiting for one of her friends to emerge so she could bully them into going to the Town with her. Rosestar had allowed the trip under the condition that she bring someone with her and also give his mother his regards. Both things were simple enough, and now she was impatiently sat in the freezing hour before dawn, ready to grab the first friendly face she saw. She didn’t even have time to think about it when she saw Crowcall stumble his way out, interrupting his yawn by stepping directly in front of him.

              “Oh good, you’re up. I need you to come to the Town with me.” He blinked at her, half awake, and she realized how demanding that sounded. Her ear twisted back. “Uh, that is, if you want to and aren’t already doing something, of course.” Thankfully, Crowcall just laughed.

              “Yeah, I’ll come with you, if you let me eat something and wake up a bit. Care to join me for breakfast?” Her stomach took the opportunity to let out a rumble, embarrassing thing that it was. She hadn’t eaten again yesterday, too distracted with the meeting that night, and she was feeling it now. She nodded quickly, following the black tom over to the freshkill pile. It was smaller than usual, but it had snowed again yesterday, and the cold-blooded prey was starting to bunk down for the winter. Soon, Shadowclan warriors would have to go to the Town and the dump to look for food. We can see what we can find on the way back today, Briarmask decided. The clan could always use more food. Crowcall selected a large squirrel for them to share, and the two settled down by the nursery. It was blessedly quiet, the kittens too cozy to leave their nests in this weather, and Briarmask enjoyed the rare moment of peace as she ate with her… friend.

              “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Crowcall mewed, swiping his tongue around his jaws. He seemed to be finished, although more than half the squirrel was left. Briarmask glanced between him and the food before answering.

              “I need to visit my grandmother- her twolegs grow herbs in a weird glass house, and I was hoping to find some borage there.” Crowcall looked curious, pushing the squirrel towards her, blatantly encouraging her to eat the rest of it. Briarmask couldn’t deny she was hungry, so she deigned to take another bite.

              “Did Fernfire ask for it? Borage is for queens, right? Is it for Brooksong?” Crowcall had been fussing a bit about his sister lately, as she had recently moved into the nursery, not that he would admit it. He was keen on making sure she ate enough and got whatever herbs she was supposed to have. Frogthroat was hovering even more, and between the two toms, Brooksong had to be the most well looked after queen in the forest. It was endearing and annoying at the same time.

              “No, it’s for- well, actually, I need to explain some things. I can tell you on the way.” Right, Crowcall didn’t know anything about what was going on, because, well, he had kind of been a suspect for a while there. But now it was definitely not him, so Briarmask could tell him everything that happened. She finished off the squirrel, which Crowcall seemed pleased about, and the two set off. As they made their way to the Town, Briarmask regaled him with the story of all the had transpired in the past two moons, hesitantly explaining that she hadn’t told him, or any of them, beforehand, because…

              “Snowdrift was convinced, at first, that the Thunderclan party was working with a dark colored Shadowclan cat, and so he told me to keep it from everybody. And then, well, he had a sign involving crows, and then they found out about you, and…” Crowcall seemed a mix of bemused and unimpressed.

              “So they thought I was the Shadowclan murderer?” He asked drily. Briarmask gave him a sheepish nod. “And what about you? Did you think I did it?” The pointed molly drew herself up indignantly.

              “Of course not! I was a little worried, of course, because I guess anything is possible, but no, I didn’t believe it for a second.” Crowcall seemed pleased at that, tail curling a bit. Graciously, or maybe because he still didn’t seem to be fully awake, he changed the subject.

              “So, this borage is for a Riverclan apprentice? Poor bit. I hope those twolegs have it.” Briarmask nodded, and the reminder of their mission seemed to put some urgency in their stride. They fell silent, taking up a lope as they grew closer to the Town. Soon, they arrived at the first of the houses. Together, they leaped atop the fence in front of them, each looking around for any threats. Finding it quiet, they followed the fence to the front of the house, where they arrived on the street. Taking the lead, Briarmask began to guide Crowcall along the familiar path to her grandmother’s house.

              While the outskirts of the Town were mostly houses, it soon turned into a sprawl of other buildings, dens of cars, alleyways, and other strange mazes. Her grandmother, Cookie, lived in a house close to what the Town cats called a park, which was basically a patch of forest plopped into the center of a bunch of roads and buildings. Crowcall stuck close, ears pricked and eyes alert as they continued. It didn’t seem to be overly busy- this early, most Twolegs weren’t awake, and they only saw a few loners as they stalked along the streets. They exchanged friendly nods with the passing cats, most of whom returned them, and soon they arrived at the park. Cutting through the center, they made it across quickly, and Briarmask spotted a familiar yellow house. Carefully, she slunk through the yard, ducking into the bushes underneath one of the windows. She waved Crowcall closer with her tail.

              “Grandmother usually sleeps on the front windowsill. I’ll get her attention and she’ll meet us in the back.” Crowcall nodded, settling in as Briarmask leaped carefully into the flower box above them. Sure enough, the familiar pale lump of her grandmother was on the sill inside. Briarmask repeatedly tapped on the glass, until finally the old queen lifted her head up. Cookie lazily turned to see what the noise was, looking delighted when she saw her granddaughter. She jerked her head towards to back of the house, and Briarmask nodded, jumping back into the bushes to let Crowcall know. Together, the two warriors snuck around the side of the house and over the fence. The garden was fairly big, the grass kept short and the different plants well maintained. The glass house was situated in the back corner, taking up a good quarter of the yard. Briarmask’s grandmother was waiting on the porch when the two of them turned the corner. Despite her age, the queen was still beautiful. Her fur was curled like a sheep, pattern much like Rosestar and Briarmask’s. Instead of being just one color, though, she had tortoiseshell markings on her face and legs. Cookie smiled, eyes crinkling in delight as the two approached.

              “Ah, there you are! It’s been a while. How are you, love? How’s my son? And who is this young tom?” Old Cookie could give Batflight a run for her money with the constant chatter and questions. They got along like a house on fire, as the old queen would say.

              “Good morning, Grandmother, it’s good to see you. I’ve been well, and so has Rosestar. This is my friend Crowcall, he’s also a Shadowclan warrior. Crowcall, this is my grandmother, Cookie.” The old queen purred, rubbing up against Briarmask, who returned the affection, before doing the same to Crowcall, who seemed surprised at the unprompted friendliness.

              “Well, good to meet you, darling. Always good to see the clan has such nice young cats.” Crowcall hesitantly returned the old molly’s greeting with a friendly blink, giving her a smile as he relaxed.

              “It’s very nice to meet you as well, ma’am. It’s an honor to meet Rosestar’s mother.” Briarmask shot him an amused look. Smooth talker. Cookie seemed to eat it up, letting out another rumbling purr as she curled her tail over her feet.

              “My, how polite! You do know how to flatter an old molly, dear. Now, are you here for a reason, Briar? Or just a visit?” Feeling a little guilty, Briarmask gave the queen a regretful smile.

              “Ah, unfortunately I do need something from you, although I was happy to have an excuse to visit. An apprentice in a neighboring clan is terribly sick, and we were hoping your twolegs might have the herbs we need to help her.” Cookie’s eyes blew wide at the news, and she seemed quite upset when she got to her feet.

              “Oh my, the poor thing! Of course, of course, I’ll go get them to open the door now. You just give me one moment dear. What do you need?” Cookie was very familiar with herbs, having been taught by Rosestar, who in turn had been taught by Fernfire, so she could help her son’s clan. The door to the glass house was always locked, so Cookie would have to get her twoleg to open it for her. They would then loiter around to let her out when she called. Thankfully, they never seemed upset that she was stealing herbs and such, but it happened rarely enough that it probably wasn’t a problem to them.

              “We need borage, as much as you can spare. Thank you so much, Grandmother.” Briarmask mewed, bumping her head gratefully against the old queen’s forehead. Cookie purred in return.

              “Nonsense! Don’t you worry about it for a second. Now, go hide, I’ll be right back.” Briarmask nodded, and she led Crowcall over to the corner by the glass house as Cookie slipped back into the house through a little flap. The warriors settled behind some bags filled with what smelled like rich earth, carefully hidden from any twoleg that came along. Crowcall was staring at her, and Briarmask gave him a questioning look.

              “What? Is something stuck in my fur?”

              “No,” he mewed, sounding amused. “You just… look a lot like your grandmother.” Briarmask blinked, but was saved from answering by the sound of the door to the house opening. The warriors focused, carefully peeking around the bags to see Cookie guiding an older male twoleg to the glass house. They stayed quiet, listening carefully as the twoleg opened the door. Cookie trotted in. After about a minute, they could hear her calling for the twoleg. Again, he opened the door, and Cookie darted out, snaking along the side of the glass house towards where the warriors waited. They heard the twoleg snort before he lumbered away, and finally, the door to the house closed. Cookie crept up to where they were crouched, dropping an incredibly large bundle of borage in front of them. It was a wonder she had been able to carry it all.

              “Do you think this is enough?” She asked worriedly, brow furrowed. “I can always get more.”

              “This is perfect, Grandmother, thank you.” Briarmask was quick to assure her. Seemingly pleased, Cookie nodded, before she shuffled her paws.

              “Is that all you needed, dear? Heading back?” It was a casual question, but Briarmask could see the hope in her grandmother’s eyes. She cast a quick look at Crowcall, who seemed to have caught on as well. He returned the look, and, giving Briarmask a small nod, settled more comfortably into his spot.

              “Well, we would like to stay a while, if you don’t mind having us.” He said, and Cookie’s tail shot up in delight.

              “It’s been a while, Grandmother, I’d love to catch up if you had the time.” Briarmask added. The old queen was thrilled, and so the two warriors spent the next hour or so with her, chatting and swapping laughter and stories. Cookie loved to hear of life in the forest, particularly about Rosestar and her grandchildren, and in return told them all about the Town and its oftentimes strange residents.

              “Yes, there was a rude molly here the other day,” she huffed, her irritation making Briarmask smile. “She was asking about my son, and your medicine cat. I thought it was very odd, so I told her I hadn’t seen any of you in quite some time, not to guilt you or anything dear, I would have told her that had you been there that morning, you know, and she got very cross. Thankfully she hasn’t been back, or I’d have to ask that nice young tom across the street to escort her away.” Briarmask felt like she was going to be sick, staring at her grandmother with wide eyes. Beside her, Crowcall looked calm, but she could sense the tension he felt.

              “What did she look like?” Briarmask asked, trying to keep from sounding too urgent. Cookie, thankfully, didn’t seem to pick up on her anxiety.

              “Gray, very dark, and she had a leg amputated. One of her front ones. Honestly, she reminded me of you forest cats, but no forest cat could survive having a leg taken off. Only house cats have that luxury.” Briarmask’s tail twitched, and she gave her grandmother a level look.

              “Ah, she sounds like a rogue who has been giving us problems lately,” she mewed carefully. “If she comes back around, I’d stay inside. Nothing but trouble, that one.” Cookie nodded, her own eyes wide.

              “My, how dramatic! But I’ll do as you say, dear. I get along very well without any trouble. I don’t want to go fussing about with any.” Relieved, Briarmask gave her grandmother an affectionate lick, and felt Crowcall relax besides her. Cookie then let out a jaw cracking yawn, seeming surprised that she did.

              “Apologies, love, that snuck up on me. It’s been so wonderful spending time with the two of you, but I think I might head in now. These old bones aren’t what they used to be, especially in this cold.” Briarmask and Crowcall helped the old queen to her feet, and she gave each of them affectionate bumps. “Give my love to Rosey, Pine, and the kits. I can’t wait to meet them when they’re old enough! And do come back any time you like, dears.” With that, the old queen ambled her way back into the house. Briarmask gave an affectionate snort as her grandmother’s tail disappeared inside with a flick.

              “I need to visit more often,” she mused aloud. Crowcall shot her a smile.

              “Well, let me know when you do. Your grandmother is a hoot.” Briarmask couldn’t help but laugh at that, and the two then stooped to split the borage between them. Briarmask once again took up the lead, heading towards the park. It was starting to get busier as the sun rose, and so they had to be careful as they darted across the street and into the bushes. They cautiously picked their way through the park, sticking to what shrubs and brush there was, and were almost to the other side when a little black and white kit suddenly stumbled out of the bushes to land at their feet. Both warriors came to a jerky stop, staring down at the kit in confusion. The kit, a little tom, was staring at them with wide eyes, but he didn’t seem afraid. He carefully sniffed the air, then smiled brightly up at them.

              “Hey, you guys smell like-”

              “Tumble!” And wasn’t that voice familiar. Both warriors whipped around to stare at the tom that emerged from the bushes. Shadefur looked just as shocked as they did.

              “Uh, Crow, Briar, what-”Crowcall gently put the herbs on the ground.

              “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” The black tom asked drily. Shadefur snorted, but still looked a little pressed.

              “Well- alright, ok. Tumble, this is my brother, Crowcall, and our friend, Briarmask. They’re from Shadowclan too. Crow, Briar, this is my son, Tumble.” Briarmask felt like her eyes were going to bug out of her head, but for the sake of the small kit still looking up at her in wonder, she reined it in. She too placed the herbs she was carrying down so she could greet them.

              “Nice to meet you,” she offered to the kit, who squeaked in delight. He waddled off back to Shadefur who let out a sigh, gently herding the little kitten back the way they had come. The sooty gray tom shot them a long-suffering look.

              “Come on then,” he sighed. “Guess I need to explain myself.” Briarmask followed the toms as Shadefur led them deeper into the bushes, until they came across a small den. They could hear more kits peeping inside, and Shadefur quickly ushered Tumble in. “Now, stay with your siblings for a moment while I talk to my friends, alright?” He mewed seriously, getting a bright affirmation in return. As soon as Tumble was safely in the den, Shadefur warily turned towards his companions.

              Crowcall looked completely deadpan, and Briarmask was near bursting with questions.

              “Alright, alright,” Shadefur said. “Look, they’re- I didn’t father them, but I help raise them.” That… made things slightly better but left more questions than answers. “Their mother, Tulip, I ran into her a few moons ago. She was with some tom who runs one of the gangs, but she didn’t want to be. We became… friends, after a little bit. She asked me to help her disappear from their territory because her mate was cruel to her, so I did, but she was already pregnant. I helped her get to this part of the Town and she had the kittens, and they’re still little so she doesn’t want to move them yet. I was going to tell you guys, but I knew you’d want to help, and Nettle had just died, and the other kits came to camp, and honestly Tulip is scared of everything that moves, so I figured…” Shadefur let out another sigh. “I figured I’d just help for now, and when the time came to bring them to camp, I’d let everyone know. I’m sorry.”

              No wonder the tom had been so quiet and distracted lately. Briarmask purred, walking over to bump her head against Shadefur’s shoulder. The tom relaxed at the action, and Briarmask cast a look over at Crowcall. He still seemed a bit put out, but when he caught her look, he sighed and walked over to give his brother a gentle shove.

              “Don’t ever worry about that kind of stuff, Shade. You’re family, and family is always there for each other. Do the kits know?” He gave a meaningful glance towards the den, but Shadefur shook his head.

              “No, they think I’m their natural father.” The gray tom murmured. “I’m going to tell them, but they just opened their eyes a week ago. No need to bother them with it now. But…” Here Shadefur straightened, pride glowing in his eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re my children in every way that matters, and I love them as such. Do you…” He hesitated. “Do you want to meet the rest? I’ve told them all about you guys, you know.” Briarmask snorted.

              “Of course we want to meet them, frog brain, I’ve been dying this whole time. Call them out, would you?” Shadefur laughed before doing so, and Briarmask couldn’t hide her delighted surprise as six kittens tumbled out of the den.

              “Alright, line up kittens,” he commanded in a mock stern voice, and the kits laughed as they scrambled into something resembling a line. “Kittens, this is my brother, your uncle, Crowcall, and our friend, Briarmask. Guys, this is Tumble, Bumble, Mumble, Scratch, Patch, and Bee.” The first five were little toms, with Bumble being all black and Mumble being a dark gray. Tumble they had already met. Scratch and Patch were dark gray and white tabbies. Little Bee, the only molly, was also the only brown tabby of the bunch. The kittens all peeped and squeaked their hellos, excitedly clambering all over the two warriors. Crowcall laughed and rolled on his back in mock surrender, to the delight of the kittens. Bee had toddled up to Briarmask and was purring like a car as she kneaded her little paws in the warrior’s curly fur.

              “Your fur is funny!” She mewed, and Briarmask laughed.

              “You don’t have to tell me twice, little one. Try living with it!” At that moment there was a rustle in the bushes, and a small black and white molly poked her head through the brush. She looked terribly nervous, but Shadefur greeted her with a gentle call.

              “Tulip! You’re back! Look- my brother and our friend managed to stumble across us. Would you like to meet them?” The molly hesitantly nodded, slowly stepping out of the brush and into the small clear space in front of the den, now very crowded with four grown cats and six kits.

              Tulip was one of the smallest cats Briarmask had ever seen. She had thin scars crisscrossing her face, and her left ear was shredded. Her big blue eyes were doe like, and she pressed close to Shadefur, as if trying to hide in his long fur. Briarmask stayed crouched so as not to loom over her, and Crowcall also had the good sense to stay lying down as well. They gave her friendly nods as they introduced themselves.

              “You have such beautiful kits! We’re so happy to meet them.” Briarmask purred, and that seemed to help Tulip relax a bit. The little queen bobbed her head.

              “Thank you,” she mewed quietly. “They’re quite the rambunctious bunch. Thank the stars Shade is here to help with them.” Briarmask laughed at that, before an idea struck her.

              “Well, if you ever need extra help,” she offered, “Crow and I would be more than happy to come by. And my grandmother lives in the yellow house across the street- if you ever needed anything when one of us isn’t around, you could always go to her and let her know you’re our friend. She loves kittens.” Tulip nodded nervously, but Briarmask saw some relief in her gaze. She couldn’t imagine taking care of one kit all by herself, let alone six. The sooner they could get Tulip and her litter to the clan, the better.

              “Thank you, that’s very kind.” Tulip murmured. Briarmask decided then that it was best to go, as Tulip was probably overwhelmed by having two new cats unexpectedly appear at her den. Nodding to Crowcall, who blinked in return, she gently extracted herself from the kittens and backed up to the edge of the brush.

              “It was nice meeting all of you,” she mewed, dipping her head respectfully. “I hope we can see you all soon.” Crowcall stepped forward, a mouthful of the borage held firmly in his jaws. He dropped it carefully at Tulip’s feet.

              “You should eat a bit of this every day until you run out,” he said kindly. “It’ll help with the kits.” Tulip blinked gratefully, and Shadefur gave his brother a nudge. With that, the warriors wished their friend and his family well, gathering up the rest of the herbs and slinking back into the bushes. They couldn’t talk with all the herbs they were carrying, but they shot each other meaningful glances. Just wait until Brook and Batty hear about this.

________________________________________________________________

              Briarmask and Crowcall made it back to the camp without further incident, hurrying to drop off the borage with Fernfire before splitting up to tell Batty and Brook. Crowcall trotted off to the nursery to tell his sister while Briarmask looked for Batty, eventually finding her asleep atop one of the logs along the backside of the camp. The black molly hadn’t been enthusiastic about being woken up, but had been positively gleeful when Briarmask told her of Shadefur and his clandestine little Town family. Oh my, how romantic, Batflight had crooned, a wicked smile on her face. I can’t wait to bother him about this later. By the time Shadefur slipped into camp that evening for the dusk patrol, practically everyone had heard the rumor, which was more or less accurate as it spread, and he got a lot of stares and wicked grins. The dark gray tom had taken it in stride, and when Rosestar approached him, had drawn himself up like he was ready for a fight. When are your little terrors coming to camp? I heard there’s twelve of them. Was all the leader said, stifling obvious amusement, and Shadefur had grinned in a mix of pride and relief. Just six, he joked, and as soon as they can make the journey safely. And that was that. His siblings had teased him from across the clearing, and everyone seemed to be looking forward to when the much talked about kittens would finally arrive in camp.

              Shadowclan was always very open to Town cats joining the clan, provided a clan member could vouch for them. It wasn’t uncommon for warriors to take mates in Town, and it was always a boon to have a full-grown, capable cat join up. Kits, of course, were always welcome- all clan cats valued kittens as the first step into the future of the clans, and it didn’t really matter to them where the kittens came from. When Tulip and her litter finally came to the marsh, they would find a very warm and enthusiastic welcome. Hopefully it wouldn’t scare the bit too bad.

              Briarmask was reclining outside her uncle’s den, waiting for him to emerge. She had taken a long nap through the afternoon and evening and was now refreshed, eager to implement their new strategy. Both of their plans were going into motion tonight, with Rosestar meeting the other leaders and Fernfire having his first foray as bait. Rosestar was worried that Featherfall would see him going to meet with the other leaders and be alerted to the fact they were on to her and Stonestar. So, he had decided to send Fernfire out, guarded by just Crowcall and Briarmask, so they could hopefully serve as a distraction. I doubt they’ll attack in the dark, especially so close to camp seeing as we have the clear advantage, but hopefully it’ll draw their focus away from where I’m going. Batflight would be nearby as well, but would act as if she were solo hunting. Shadefur, Frogthroat, Bluebird, and Clayfang would be on standby in the camp, ready to move at the first sign of trouble. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be needed, but you could never be too sure.

              Rosestar came slipping out from under the log, long fur as neat as it could get. He gave his niece a nod as she stood, and gestured for her to follow him to the medicine den.

              “Alright, I’m going to collect the herbs from Fernfire, then you and Crowcall take him out of camp. Stick close enough to be heard, and if you get any bad feelings, come home immediately. We’re mostly just testing the waters and distracting from the fact Marshfoot and I are leaving camp in the middle of the night with a bunch of herbs.” Briarmask nodded along as he spoke, already familiar with the plan but not interrupting. He was nervous, although he would never admit it. She could listen again if it made him feel better.

              Fernfire was sitting at the entrance of his log, borage neatly bundled at his feet, brow furrowed and tail flicking. He didn’t smile as they walked up, instead fixing Rosestar with a serious look.

              “Listen carefully to everything you’re told tonight, and don’t be afraid to be honest with the others. We’re all together in this.” Rosestar nodded obediently, humoring the medicine cat in the same way he had just been humored by Briarmask.

              “Don’t worry, old boy, I’ll be on my best behavior. You all be very careful yourselves, alright?” Briarmask gave him a smile.

              “Of course, Uncle, you don’t need to worry either- we’ll just take a quick little jaunt and be back before anybody really noticed we were gone.” With that, she dipped her head respectfully and lead Fernfire out of the den. Rosestar would leave a few minutes after they did, so best to get on with it. Crowcall was waiting near the entrance to camp with Batflight and the others, whispering amongst themselves. They all looked up as Briarmask and Fernfire approached, serious eyes glinting in the weak moonlight.

              “You two ready? I figured we could do a slow circuit around camp, then come back.” Crowcall mewed.

              “We’ll be ready to go the second we hear anything,” Shadefur said confidently, giving Fernfire a reassuring smile. “But it should be a quiet night. Nobody smelled rogue scent today, so hopefully they’re not even around tonight.” Fernfire seemed to relax a little at that, but was not at all thrilled to be gallivanting around in the cold antagonizing his would be murderers.

              “Well, come on then you two,” he mumbled, slouching his way to the entrance. “Let’s get this over with.” The two warriors exchanged amused glances before following the medicine cat out and into the forest. He took off at a fairly brisk trot until they were a decent distance from camp- far enough not to see it, but still close enough that it wouldn’t take the warriors waiting back home but a minute to reach where they were. He then began to lead them in a meandering circle around the camp, stopping to sniff and paw at different spots as if looking for something. Briarmask would have to commend him on his acting once they got back to camp. Maybe he can join the Riverclan troupe at the Long Night Gathering, she laughed to herself. He could play one of the apprentices. She sobered quickly, however, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. It wouldn’t do to be distracted, even though it was unlikely any trouble would occur. A couple tail lengths away, Crowcall silently prowled along, alert to any danger. As they began to near the halfway point of their circuit, Briarmask finally felt herself relax a bit.

              Of course, at that moment, there was movement in the undergrowth.

              It was coming from some brush that was between them and the camp. Crowcall immediately leapt in front of Fernfire while Briarmask dropped into a crouch, slinking towards the slight rustle. Readying herself, she pinpointed the source of the noise, focused, pounced-

              And met the wide, terrified eyes of Sparkkit.

              “Oh, stars above,” she huffed, trying not to let her irritation bleed through too much. She grabbed the kit by his scruff, although honestly, he was starting to get a bit too big for that, and hauled him out of the undergrowth and into the clear space between the pines. Crowcall rolled his eyes when he saw who it was, and Fernfire stepped forward, face set in a reproachful look.

              “Sparkkit, what are you doing out of camp! You know the rules-” Briarmask’s attention was pulled away by… something. She sniffed the freezing air, something sharp hitting her nose, and she was moving before she even realized what was happening.

              Briarmask slammed into the figure that had just darted out from behind the pine tree next to Fernfire, sending both herself and the other cat rolling. When they tumbled to a stop her opponent was on top, and she felt her blood turn to ice as she realized who it was.

              Stonestar.

              This was the closest she had ever been to the Thunderclan leader. Much like his daughter, he was large, fluffy, and downright terrifying. Unlike his daughter, however, his eyes looked completely dead, reflecting none of the starlight that shone through the pines.

              “Ah, one of Rosestar’s pathetic little kin. I thought you had all died out by now.” Briarmask wanted to tear his throat out for the comment, but instead sucked in a deep breath and let out the loudest yowl of her life, clouded breath momentarily obscuring Stonestar’s face. The tom’s face immediately creased in rage as he realized his mistake, lunging down towards her with fangs bared. Briarmask kicked out with her hindlegs as hard as she could, upsetting his balance just enough that his jaws snapped shut over empty air and she was able to wiggle out from underneath him.

              She needed to get back to Crowcall. They could do far more together than they could on their own, and besides, now they had Fernfire and Sparkkit to worry about. She had no doubt that Sparkkit would just be another obstacle to the two fox hearts attacking them.

              Well, make that three fox hearts.

              Crowcall was fending off who she assumed was Featherfall and a dark brown tabby tom she had never seen before. He smelled like the Town, and must have been some rogue employed to help Stonestar and his mate. The gray molly was somehow standing strong despite the wounds she must have suffered from Piketail, and she noticed a strangely colored wrap around the molly's foreleg. Some kind of twoleg intervention, of course. Briarmask darted past Featherfall, targeting the wrap and knocking her front leg out from under her as she went, making the molly crash to the ground.  The pointed molly skidded to a stop next to Crowcall, bristling her fur and letting out a ferocious hiss. She could hear rustling in the undergrowth she had just pulled Sparkkit from- it seemed he and Fernfire had taken off back towards the camp. Stonestar loped up to them all, barking harshly at the tabby.

              “Go after the healer and the kit! We’ll take the warriors.” Immediately the tabby took off, slipping around Crowcall’s attempt to block him. The black warrior turned wildly to Briarmask.

              “Go!” He hissed, and no, no no no she couldn’t do this again. Crowcall would die here, her worst nightmare would come true- “Briar! Go. I’ll be fine. I promise.” Briarmask was rooted to the spot as he turned and threw himself at Stonestar but by the ancestor’s he was right, Fernfire couldn’t fight off that rogue, and so she turned and ran after them.

              The snowy forest was silent except for her own ragged breaths- the dump was oddly silent, just the rustling of the bag and her heavy breaths around it- the cold stung her chest as she ran, nose burning- she couldn’t tell if it was the bag or her own fear making it hard to breathe- oh ancestors above, don’t let him die- please, keep her safe until I get back- and the rhythm of her paw steps matched the frantic beating of her heart- please, please, please- don’t let it be too late- Briarmask was practically flying over the forest floor, and it felt like she blinked and the tabby was in her sight, hissing at Fernfire, who’s face was bleeding, crouched over a helpless Sparkkit, and damn it all, she wouldn’t let them die too- so she threw herself at the tabby, silent as the snow fall, and she could sense his surprise as they went tumbling the ground- this time, though, she was on top when they stopped, and she didn’t stop to gloat like Stonestar did, she just shot forward like a snake, teeth sinking into the tom’s throat, and he let out an awful, terrified yowl, but she had to, he was going to hurt her clan, her family, and he was striking out wildly, clawing at her ears and face and belly but she didn’t let go, couldn’t let go, just held on as his strikes grew weaker and Briarmask finally released him with a gasp as she heard crashing in the undergrowth, watching blankly as the patrol went screeching by, Shadefur slowing down as he passed her, and then everything snapped back into focus.

              “Take care of Fernfire and Sparkkit,” she gasped, before tearing herself away from the tabby and sprinting off after the patrol. She had to make sure Crowcall was alright, he had to be fine, he promised-

              She caught up to the patrol, and when they all leaped out of the undergrowth it was to find a barely standing Crowcall facing off against Featherfall, Stonestar laying prone between them. As they arrived, however, the brown and white tom let out a ragged gasp, shoving himself to his feet and stumbling away from the new group of cats. They all advanced, hissing and spitting, and the leader didn’t even try to make a defense. He took off running, his mate close behind. Bluebird and Clayfang took off after them, and Briarmask and Frogthroat ran over to Crowcall. He collapsed right before they reached him, and Briarmask felt her heart drop to the ground with a heavy crack.

              She was at his side in the next moment, desperately cataloguing his wounds. The black tom’s long fur was matted with blood, and he seemed to have a particularly nasty bite wound on the side of his neck. His breath was coming in gasps and pants, and he trembled in pain.

              “See? Told you I’d be fine,” he rasped, grinning absently up at her. Briarmask resisted the urge to smack him.

              “You call this fine? By the ancestors, if you die, I will find a way to bring you back so I can kill you again myself.” Frogthroat snorted as he began to pull Crowcall up off the ground.

              “Cool it with the lovers quarrel,” he murmured, huffing as Crowcall leaned his weight against the spotted tom’s shoulder. “Let’s get you back to camp.” Crowcall somehow managed to roll his eyes, and Briarmask nearly rolled her own out of her head as she supported the black tom’s other side. She’d be embarrassed if she weren’t trying not to spiral into a panic. Together, she and Frogthroat began to help him back to camp. Shadefur came trotting up a minute later, concern and relief warring on his face as he saw his brother.

              “Thank the stars,” he sighed. “Fernfire and Sparkkit are safe, they’re both back at camp. The tabby is dead.” He gave Briarmask a careful look at the news, but at the moment she felt too numb to process it. Shadefur waited another heartbeat before continuing. “It’s a small world we live in- I think that was Tulip’s former mate, the one who abused her. Figures a piece of fox shit like him would join up with a pack of murderers.” There would be a lot of things to process later, it seemed, but for now, all Briarmask could focus on was getting Crowcall to Fernfire and making sure he’d be alright. Guided by Shadefur, the four warriors eventually made it back to camp. They escorted Crowcall into a nest in the medicine den before being chased out by Fernfire, who said he need some damn peace and quiet for a moment, stars above, and the shock of him swearing had lit a fire under their paws. Frogthroat and Shadefur went over to the nursery to let Brooksong know what happened, leaving Briarmask by herself on the edge of the camp clearing. A few moments later, a furious Batflight stalked into camp, Sunkit and Emberkit slinking along behind her with their tails tucked. She quickly brought them over to the nursery before hurrying over to where Briarmask sat, grief and worry clear on her face.

              “Briar,” she gasped as she skidded to a stop in front of her, “I’m so sorry, I found the kits scent while I was hunting and panicked, I tried to call for you but I must’ve strayed too far away, I’m so so-“

              “Batty,” Briarmask croaked, not realizing how tight her throat was, “Batty, you’re alright, it’s fine, everyone is-“ Her throat closed, and she couldn’t stop herself from shaking now. Batflight immediately pressed against her, letting out a rumbling purr in an attempt to calm her down.

              “You’re alright, Briar,” she soothed, and Briarmask screwed her eyes shut.

              “I- Stonestar and Featherfall was there but there was some rogue, too, who went after Fernfire and Sparkkit, and Crowcall-“ She tried to swallow but couldn’t, “He told me to run, to go after them, and all I could think about was Nettle telling me the same thing, and that Crow was going to die just like she did, and it would be my fault-“ Batflight let her talk, listened as it all poured out in a terrible rush. They were still sitting there when Rosestar and Marshfoot came bursting into the camp, her uncle’s face warped in anger.

              “What happened? We smelled blood, saw that tom’s body.” Thank the ancestor’s, Batflight stepped forward to explain so Briarmask didn’t have to. Bluebird and Clayfang also arrived back at camp just a few moments later, and together the three of them explained what had happened to the leader and the deputy. Both of them were a mix of furious and satisfied. Briarmask blocked out what they were saying, however, as she heard Fernfire step out of the den behind her. She whipped around and stepped forward, desperately searching his face for any hint of news.

              Fernfire looked tired, but he didn’t seem overly upset. He had washed the blood off his face revealing a long, thin scratch that went down between his eyes and across his muzzle. The medicine cat gave her a gentle smile when he saw her standing there.

              “No need to fret, dear, he’s going to be fine. He’ll need to rest for a while, but he’ll make a full recovery.” Briarmask nearly collapsed with relief, but she managed to steel herself, dipping her head in gratitude to the golden tom.

              “Thank you,” she choked, eyes stinging as she blinked at him. “Thank you so much.” Fernfire purred as he stepped to the side, nodding towards the den.

              “He’s still awake, you can go see him for a moment if you’d like. I’m going to speak to Rosestar.” He didn’t need to tell her twice. Briarmask quickly slipped into the den, carefully padding over to where Crowcall lay.

              He was stretched out across the soft earthy floor, fur cleaned and swathed in herbs and cobwebs. There was a large bundle packed up against his neck, but the black tom didn’t seem to be in pain anymore, judging by his even breathing. Crowcall blinked up at her, looking exhausted as Briarmask came to crouch near his head.

              “Your face is covered in blood,” he rasped, concern floating in his hazy copper eyes. “You need to have Fernfire look at you- look, you even have a nick in your ear-” And how could he be this ridiculous over a scratch when he had almost died-?

              “You-!” She tried to hiss but it came out as more of a strangled choke, and she had to swallow hard to dislodge the frog that had hopped into her throat. “Do not worry about me, you almost died, and it-” She snapped her jaws shut, the guilt and the fear really starting to settle in, and she began to shake. Despite her protests, Crowcall sat up, reaching forward to press his forehead against hers.

              “It’s not your fault Briar,” he murmured, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Even if I had died, it wouldn’t have been your fault. We both swore an oath to protect our clan over our own lives. Fernfire and Sparkkit were the first priority.” He snorted then, and the sound was oddly… bitter. “Of course, I’m a hypocrite for saying that.” Briarmask blinked her eyes open at the comment, pulling away a bit so she could fix him with a stern look, brow furrowed.

              “How would that make you a hypocrite? You were willing to die for them. You almost did.” She insisted, and her confusion only grew as he rolled his eyes. He then looked her right in the eye, and his expression was so exasperated and so fond she could only blink.

              “I’m a hypocrite, because I’m telling you to value the lives of our clanmates over my own, when I couldn’t do the same when it came to you.” Crowcall’s expression softened even more, and he let out a gentle sigh. “I made you leave because I couldn’t sacrifice you for Fernfire or Sparkkit. I made you leave because I knew you could handle the tabby and you’d be safe, and as long as you were alright, it didn’t matter what happened to me. Because…” And oh stars, Crowcall looked nervous now, and now Briarmask was nervous, because what, because-

              “I love you.”

              Oh. Oh shit.

              “You- what?” Briarmask gaped, and, yeah, of course she had hoped he returned her feelings but he really, actually-? Poor Crowcall looked incredibly nervous at this point, but to his credit, he doubled down.

              “I love you. I have for a while, but I never wanted to push you, so I just… didn’t say anything, but there’s nothing like almost dying to put things into perspective, right?” He grinned, but it quickly faltered. “O-of course, you don’t have to feel the same way, obviously, I just-” Briarmask nearly jolted out of her fur as she realized, oh, right,  her reaction had been- well, rather underwhelming.

              “Of course I feel the same, I’ve loved you since we were apprentices, honestly I don’t know how you didn’t notice before now-” and oh stars, wasn’t that embarrassing, so she clammed up, ears burning as she pinned them back. Thankfully Crowcall just laughed, the sound full of relief, and he leaned forward again to rub his cheek against hers. Briarmask gratefully leaned into the touch, beyond relieved he was still alive, that she had had the opportunity to learn of his affections and share hers in return. Ancestor’s above, thank you, she thought, thank you so much.

              Crowcall sighed, drawing back slightly to grin at her.

              “What a day, huh?” He mewed, before his grin took on a mischievous tilt. “Pretty impressive, isn’t it, that I managed to take Stonestar down, right?”

              She could only laugh. It had been the longest day of her life- it felt like it had been years since she had told Rosestar about Piketail and Lizardspots, since she and Crowcall had gone to the Town. There was still much that they didn’t know- what had happened with the other leaders, how the tabby had gotten involved with Stonestar and Featherfall, what their next move would have to be. Crowcall would be facing a long recovery, and she knew that she’d have to address what had happened with the tabby tom, the fear and the guilt that had subsided but was still there. But, for now, they were all safe. Fernfire was alive, the kits were unharmed, and Crowcall would be alright. And best of all, he loved her, and she loved him too.

              Briarmask pressed her face into the side of Crowcall’s neck and let out a rusty, trembling purr.

First / Prev / Next

[overgrowth-wc]

If only Piketail knew what a roller coaster was. He'd probably use it in a metaphor. 

              The only reason Splashpaw had let Piketail into the medicine den was because Grayfeather was dying.

              Illness had struck Riverclan early, starting with the elders. Piketail could only be grateful there were no kits at the moment as they likely would have been next. Splashpaw was using the empty nursery as a quarantine space, keeping the sickest cats in the medicine den under his close supervision. The little tom was working tirelessly to keep his clanmates alive. Piketail could clearly see how much it weighed on him. For the first time in his life Splashpaw was thin, his typical chub lost as he forgot to eat and spent long nights administering herbs, prayers, and words of comfort. As it stood, the three elders, then Pebblefoot, Berrybush, and Goldenpaw, were sick. Of them, Grayfeather and Goldenpaw were the worst off. It was strange, to see his mother so weak, and even stranger to see combative Goldenpaw struggling to breathe as she hacked and coughed and fevered.

              Now, it seemed his mother was close to losing the fight. Splashpaw had awoken Piketail from a restless sleep, defeat clear on his face. I’m so sorry, he had whispered. I don’t know what else to do.

              Grayfeather smiled up at him tiredly.

              “Ah, don’t worry so much, guppy,” she purred, the sound catching and turning into a cough. Piketail flinched. “We all return to the ancestors someday. I’m just sorry it happened so soon.” The old molly shifted in her nest, reaching a frail paw out to rest it gently on one of his own. “I do have something to tell you though. About your father.” Piketail moved closer at her words, curling up around her to offer her some comfort, sickness be damned. His mother rusted out another purr at the contact. “There’s no good way to say this. Your father is Lizardspots, the former deputy of Shadowclan. Frogthroat and Marshfoot are my kits, your siblings. It made me so happy you found one another.”

              Piketail’s mind tilted, and if he weren’t already lying down, he’d probably have fallen over. He had always wondered, a bit at least, who his father was, but always just assumed he was a passing loner. More so, he had wondered why he didn’t have any siblings. It wasn’t unheard of for kittens to die after birth, of course, but for only one kitten to be conceived and born was something a bit unlucky. Four was seen as a blessed number for litters, for the four clans, etc, and three was the most common. It made him wonder why he had been born alone.  But now- he hadn’t. He had a brother and sister, like he had always dreamed of, had a father who he could actually meet. And he had found his siblings without ever knowing the truth, and he couldn’t help but wonder if their blood had pulled them together, reunited them without them ever knowing they were apart. At first, he felt anger flare within him, that they had been separated in the first place- why couldn’t they have stayed together, as they ought to have been? But, deflating, he realized there were some practical issues. Namely, his siblings were the spitting image of their father- any cat who looked at them would know them as Lizardspot’s kin. Piketail, on the other hand, had the same fur length and color as his mother, and so could not be singled out as the son of the Shadowclan deputy. Such a funny thing, that their coats would determine the course of their lives. These thoughts rushed through his head like a spring stream, mixing and colliding as he tried to understand exactly what his mother was telling him.

              So yes, Piketail was shocked at the abrupt reveal of a mystery he had never thought would be solved. But there was a small, warm part of him, which glowed when he realized that he had family. Kin, and his own friends, and yes, he could admit that now, they were his friends, were actually the siblings he had always longed for. He stared down at his mother, eye wide and jaw slack. She returned his look with a smile, but her brow was creased with worry.

              “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I was always afraid of what would happen to Lizardspots if we were found out- the punishment he could receive for our relationship would be harsh. And when we saw you kits found each other anyway, well, we hoped that would be enough.” Grayfeather hacked again, this time the sound even more ragged than before, and Piketail pressed even closer to her. “I’m so sorry guppy.” Piketail lovingly rasped his tongue over her ears, pressing his face into her neck.

              “Don’t be sorry, ma,” he whispered. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not upset, in fact- this, this is the best news I’ve heard in a while.” His throat grew tight, and he pulled back, giving her a tremulous smile. “I always did want siblings, you know.” Grayfeather choked out a laugh, some tension leaving her shoulders.

              “Good, good. I didn’t want to die without letting you know the truth.” She sighed as Piketail let out a whine, panic licking at his chest as her eyes started to droop.

              “Ma, wait, come on. You- please don’t, I still need you.” Piketail hated how weak he sounded but by the stars, he couldn’t lose his mother. She was everything to him- how could he go on without knowing she was there? Grayfeather forced her eyes open, giving him a loving blink.

              “Come now darling, you’re a strong young tom. You haven’t needed me for a while, and I know you will do just fine when I’m gone. And we’ll see each other again.” Her eyes began to slide close once more, and she began to lean more heavily into him. “Will you promise me something, dear?” She murmured. He swallowed hard.

              “Of course. Anything.”

              “Give my love to your father, and your brother and sister. Tell them I’m proud of them, and I can’t wait to one day meet them and spend the time with them I wish we always had.” Grayfeather seemed to struggle to catch her breath at this point, but she lifted her head to look at him once more. “And I love you, darling. So much. I’m so happy you’re my son.”

              “I love you too, mama. Thank you, for everything.” Piketail whispered, voice cracking and throat so tight he could barely breathe. Grayfeather purred, slumped fully against him, coughed once, twice, and was still.

              Piketail sat numbly a short distance from his mother’s body, the predawn sky dark above him, only a few stars left twinkling in the blackness. Grayfeather’s vigil was nearing its end. Splashpaw had rubbed her fur with rosemary and sage before carefully helping Piketail move her body to the clearing so the whole clan could mourn her properly. A few warriors had gone out to dig a grave for her, but the rest were lingering around the clearing in small groups, coming up to bid goodbye to her in dribs and drabs. His clanmates offered him condolences and murmured words of comfort, which he accepted gratefully. While he wasn’t close to them, they were still clanmates, and he knew they cared for him in some way, just as he did for them. Piketail knew their concern and well wishes were genuine. Littlepaw was steadfast beside him, quietly lending his support. His apprentice was no longer the tiny fluffball who he had taken into his care all those moons ago. He stood almost as tall as Piketail now, kitten fluff transforming into a sleek coat. It would be less than two moons before he would be a warrior, if Piketail was right in his guess. They’d have to start thinking of assessments soon.

              His thoughts were wandering but Piketail let them, anything to distract from the fact that three of the cats he cared for the most were now dead. But there was a small light of hope there- he had more family. Maybe, just maybe, he could…

              Squirrelnose was coming up to him, each step cautious and face uncertain. Littlepaw looked up at him, brow furrowed, but Piketail shook his head at the unspoken question.

              “Why don’t you go check on Splashpaw and Ripplepaw,” he murmured, voice more of a dry rasp than anything. “I’m sure Ripple could use your help comforting him.” Littlepaw continued to look at him, eyes darting around his face, then nodded slowly. The golden tom rubbed himself along his mentor’s flank before trotting off, and Piketail looked up to make eye contact with his former best friend.

              The ginger tom had come a halt in front of him, and Piketail was distantly surprised to see the guilt and pain that swirled in his gaze. It had been years since Squirrelnose had really looked at him, and his face was always carefully blank. Now it was open in a way that left Piketail almost uncomfortable.

              “Piketail,” he greeted softly. “I’m so sorry for your loss, and…” Squirrelnose shifted uncomfortably.

              “I’m sorry for your mother’s illness as well,” Piketail offered. He could be polite, and honestly, he did worry about Berrybush. In her favor, at least, she was still fairly young- his own mother had been older when she had him, but Berrybush had been a young queen. Her odds were good in beating her illness. “I hope she recovers quickly.” He finished, eye darting away. Piketail heard the other tom sigh.

              “Piketail, I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” Piketail couldn’t help but look back up in surprise. Squirrelnose looked bereft, guilt and determination bright in his eyes. “I’m sorry I was a coward, and I ran away and left you and Swanpaw behind. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough to make it worth it. I’m sorry I abandoned you when you most needed a friend, and I’m sorry I’ve let my own guilt and resentment get in the way of apologizing when I should have. I’m sorry for ignoring you all these years. And I’m also sorry I’m doing this now instead of a better time. I’m just… sorry.” Piketail could only blink, reeling at the ginger tom’s flood of words. One, because today was already a mess and this was only adding to it, and two, because all these years he thought Squirrelnose avoided him because he hated his guts, not because the other tom felt guilty.

              “I thought you hated me,” Piketail blurted, eye wide and searching. “I thought you blamed me for not saving Swanpaw. That you were angry she died and I lived.” Squirrelnose pinned his ears back.

              “I won’t lie, I did resent you at first, but I only ever hated myself.” He grinned bitterly. “And let’s face it- it was Swanpaw’s idea to go there in the first place. You only ever tried to keep her safe. I could never hate you for that. Maybe, if I had stayed, she’d still be alive.”

              “Or you’d both be dead.” Piketail murmured. “Even when I was angry with you for running, I was happy that at least you were still alive.” Both toms lapsed into silence, eyeing each other carefully.

              When Piketail was young, he had planned out his whole life. He and Swanpaw would grow up to become mates. Squirrelnose would find some pretty young molly, and their children would all be friends. Squirrelnose would become deputy, because let’s face it, everyone knew his uncle Coppertail was training him for the position, and when he became leader he would make Piketail his deputy. And then they would all be together, a family like he’d always dreamed, and Riverclan would be all the better for it.

              That dream had died the second that dog stepped out of the hedges and snatched Swanpaw, when Piketail had called for his friend to aid him and instead been met with the sight of him running away, a view quickly blocked by the other dog emerging from the shadows. He had thought he would die then, and at least he and Swanpaw could be together, but he had lived, and he had hated himself for it. When Squirrelnose had avoided him like some plague-ridden fox, Piketail had thought his best friend hated him too, was disgusted with him for his failure. His own relief at seeing Squirrelnose unharmed had been clawed at by the resentment that settled in his chest that maybe, maybe, if his friend had stayed, Swanpaw would still be alive. But Piketail knew now that it was more likely they all would have died. The warriors would not have known to look for them until it was much too late, and in running Squirrelnose had not only saved his own life, but Piketail’s as well.

              He had learned to be grateful for it.

              Piketail sighed. He didn’t know if he and Squirrelnose would ever really be friends again, especially if the nebulous plan kicking around in the back of his head came to fruition. But they didn’t have to be cold to each other anymore either.

              “Thank you,” he said, looking Squirrelnose right in the eye, “for saving my life.” The ginger tom stared at him for a moment, emotion welling in his eyes, before clearing his throat.

              “Thank you,” he replied, “for protecting Swanpaw when I didn’t.” Piketail nodded, Squirrelnose nodded in return, and, well. That was that. Squirrelnose padded away, and Piketail stared down at his paws, feeling better and worse than he had in a long time. His mother was dead. So was Reedpelt, and Swanpaw. But he had a family, whom he already loved. He had made strides towards mending his relationship with his old best friend. And now, just maybe, he had a future to look forward to.

              Although that would be dependent on speaking to Rosestar.

              Piketail looked up as Splashpaw slowly made his way towards Grayfeather’s body. It was a pity, that so much was riding on one so young, but the silver tom held his head high. His yellow eyes gleamed with grief and determination in the shadows of the night, and when he spoke, his clear voice carried across the camp.

              “We gather now, to pray for Grayfeather’s safe journey to the ancestors.”

              The clan crowded forward, leaving space for Piketail to come and take his spot next to Splashpaw. It was customary for the family of the deceased to lead the prayers alongside the medicine cat, but Piketail didn’t know if he’d be able to speak around the rock that had taken up residence in his throat.

              “Glorious ancestors,” Splashpaw began, “we bid you welcome this warrior into your clan. Grayfeather served her clan here faithfully, following in River’s footsteps to become a cat of noble worth, who abided by the Code he set forth and the statutes given to us by you. Send your messenger to lead her home. Give comfort to those who loved her in this time of pain and grief. When our own time comes, we ask that Grayfeather be there to welcome us as a member of your ranks. Grayfeather,” he continued, eyes not on her body but the sky above, “you have fulfilled your oaths. With the well wishes of your loved ones, go forth to your home amongst the stars.”

              There were many things that may cause a cat’s spirit to linger. Those who did not honor Starclan in life would find it difficult to locate their hunting grounds after death. The very young were easily distracted and may not understand the situation they found themselves in, making them prone to wandering. Those who were murdered were prevented from rest until justice was served, as were those who had other important unfinished business. And then, there were those who may worry too much for those they left behind, making them linger longer than they should. Piketail’s role in this ceremony was to ensure his mother’s spirit did not feel like she needed to tarry, instead encouraging her to make her way to the stars.

              “Mother, worry not for me. Return to the stars with my love and my blessing.” A simple prayer, but it did its job. Splashpaw blinked comfortingly at Piketail before he went on.

              “As the stars fade into the morning light, we pray you journey with them. May you be at peace.” With that, Oakstar let out a yowl, leading his clan in chanting the deceased elder’s name. Piketail tried to join in but couldn’t, grief finally choking the voice out of him. Splashpaw leaned up against him, and Piketail pressed his head up against the little tom’s.

              “Thank you, for everything you did for her. And for giving me a chance to say goodbye.” He whispered. Splashpaw didn’t reply, merely forcing out a comforting purr. After a moment Piketail straightened, taking a deep breath before he joined a few other warriors in picking up Grayfeather’s body. They would bury her as the sun rose, and then it would be finished.

________________________________________________________________

              It had been a somber task. Piketail had taken care to place an oyster shell on his mother’s grave, which he had taken from her nest, as she had always been fascinated by the way the shell on the inside them shimmered and gleamed. She had compared him to an oyster once, which he had been mildly offended by- but, in the end, he appreciated the point she was trying to make. Piketail touched his nose to the shell before turning slowly away. The others had left by now, giving him gentle nudges as they went, and now he was alone in the graveyard. As he walked away from his mother’s grave, he made sure to stop by Swanpaw’s. The feather pinned under the rocks was new and whole, but he wasn’t the one to have put it there. In fact, it'd almost been a moon since he had visited her grave, and he was so tired that only a little guilt nipped at his stomach when he thought of it. It was good, though, that someone else was taking care of her when he couldn’t- probably Squirrelnose, or Berrybush. Piketail had sometimes forgotten in the midst of his own grief that other cats had loved her too, missed her just as much as he did. Now, he would have to accept the fact that he was leaving her in their capable paws.

              Piketail was going to ask to join Shadowclan.

              He’d wait, of course, until Littlepaw was made a warrior, and make sure the clan was fine for the rest of winter, but that wouldn’t be too long now. And, he’d have to talk to Rosestar and Oakstar about making the switch. Piketail just hoped that Rosestar wouldn’t be mad at his half-clan heritage. Then again, his siblings, and wasn’t that a wonderful word, had told him of Rosestar’s heritage- a kittypet kit, given to the clan alongside his sister, as their mother had grown tired of her twolegs stealing her children away. She hadn’t joined herself, sure she wouldn’t be able to survive in the wild, but she wanted at least one litter she could still visit. It explained his strange fur, which was curly like a sheep, and his odd coloring, with just his limbs, face and ears having color. That pattern sometimes showed up in the clans, but was more indicative of loner or kittypet heritage than anything. It was also why he knew Briarmask had to be a relative of Rosestar’s- no other family in the forest looked like them. And by all accounts Lizardspots was the leader’s best friend, and he had recently retired from the deputy position, so that shouldn’t be an issue. Hopefully, he would hear Piketail out.

              But there was time for that later, and there were much more pressing issues now. Gently touching his nose to the feather, and casting one last look over his shoulder towards his mother’s grave, Piketail set back off towards camp.

________________________________________________________________

              He had hunted on his way home, managing to bring back a scrawny squirrel and a mouse. It had finally started snowing in the last half moon, and land prey was becoming harder to find. Still, he had at least been able to catch something. Upon reentry into camp, he saw Berrybush outside the quarantine den, looking better than she had in days. Splashpaw was speaking to her quietly, and as Piketail approached, she dipped her head to the apprentice and slowly walked off towards the elder’s den. Splashpaw flicked an ear at Piketail’s approach, turning to give the warrior a weary smile.

              “Berrybush is doing a lot better, but I don’t want to put her back in the warrior’s den just yet,” he mewed as Piketail stopped next to him, gently setting down the prey he carried. “With the elders still being sick their den is empty, so I thought I could use it as a transition den for the recovering cats. So they aren’t being exposed to the illness again while also not giving it to anyone else.” Piketail purred, giving the silver tom a supportive nudge.

              “Smart,” he praised, and Splashpaw’s tailed curled in pride. “Might as well make use of the space, huh? How are the rest of them doing?” Splashpaw deflated a little at that, shaking his head.

              “Not better, but not worse, so I’ll take it.” His brow furrowed in thought, yellow eyes darting back towards the medicine den. “Goldenpaw’s chest is clearing up, but her fevers are… bad.” A hard swallow. “I’m trying everything I can, but we don’t have any borage and I’m running out of other options.” Piketail ran his tail comfortingly down Splashpaw’s side, but he couldn’t help but worry as well. Goldenpaw was a thorn in his side, and the side of many, but that didn’t mean he wanted anything bad for her. Bratty apprentices deserved the chance to grow into confident warriors. He prayed that her fever would break soon, and she could get back on her feet and start harassing her fellow apprentices again. Speaking of…

              “Do you know where Littlepaw is?” His apprentice had been doing quite admirably lately, and Piketail was sending him to hunt on his own more and more often. The golden tabby was an excellent land prey hunter, which was what they really needed for the Leafbare. By splitting up they were able to cover more hunting grounds, and Piketail was more than pleased with how well Littlepaw managed his solo expeditions. They just needed to sharpen his fighting skills a bit more, so he could pass his sparring assessment, and then tackle preparations for the third.

              Warrior apprentices had to pass three assessments before they could become warriors, with the first two being standard and the third being tailored to the individual apprentice. The first was hunting- the mentor, alongside the deputy or even the leader, would give the apprentice a range and a certain number of prey to bring back in a certain amount of time. Apprentices were scored based on if they got less, the exact amount, or even more than they were asked for. Then, there was a sparring assessment, usually against the clan’s most recent warrior. The apprentice was judged on how long they lasted in the fight and got extra points if they won. Finally, the apprentice was assigned a task that involved something the apprentice struggled with. Stealth, climbing, tracking, swimming- it varied widely. For his own task, Piketail had to escort the then Lavenderkit, Stormkit, and Hollykit from camp to a clearing in the forest and back, all by himself. Warriors had been on the fringe of course, ready to intervene if need be, but nothing had required their interference. Piketail had not been good at group work, and especially struggled with communicating directions and helping others. The process of wrangling the kits had been a practice in torture, but he had done it, and he had learned a lot from the few hours he spent with them. As it stood, the three warriors were now some of the only members of his clan who could look him in the eye for long periods of time.

              For Littlepaw, he would probably suggest a stalking exercise. Not for prey of course, but for tracking other cats and predators. When it came to sneaking, Littlepaw was more of a sprinter than a distance runner- he could manage to slowly work his way towards land prey, striking with neat precision, and he had more than enough patience to fish very well. When it came to sneaking over long distances, however, he often fell short. Piketail would focus on strengthening his sparring ability then honing his stalking over the next moon or so, and that should be enough to get him through.

              “Littlepaw is with Dawnface. She’s taking Goldenpaw’s illness hard.” Ah, so he was with his mother. Piketail wouldn’t interrupt their time together- family came before training. They could just get a late start. But Piketail still needed something to distract him from his own mother, and he shuffled his paws for a minute as he tried to think of something to do. Coppertail had given him a day off from patrols, he had already hunted…

              “If you’re not busy,” Splashpaw said, drawing him out of his thoughts, “I need someone to go with me to collect more bedding. The sick cats need their nests changed out often- I know it’s an apprentice task but…” Piketail purred.

              “Of course, I’m not too proud to collect moss.” And some mindless manual labor would be perfect. Plus, he could keep an eye on Splashpaw and make sure he was safe. All in all, a productive use of his time.

              Piketail went with Splashpaw to let the deputy know they were leaving, a requirement that Oakstar had placed on the apprentice after Reedpelt’s death. They then set off towards the tree line, hoping to find some dry moss and other soft things in the woods. It was turning out to be a peaceful morning. The sky was clear, and the sparse snow on the ground was gently melting in the sun.

              “Thanks for coming with me. I know you have to meet the others tonight, so you should take a nap when we get back.” Piketail blinked, realizing that, oh right, tonight was the new moon. He knew a lot had happened since the last time they saw each other- Splashpaw had reported back to him after meeting with the other medicine cats at the half moon a couple weeks ago. Fernfire had said Shadowclan found that the Thunderclan scent previously found in the territory had disappeared, and that the Town cat had cleverly disguised their scent by rolling in a mixture of different plants and such until they smelled like the forest. What the Town cat might not have anticipated, however, was that Shadowclan was comprised of the best trackers in the territories and were wilier than a pack of foxes. Briarmask had rolled in the exact same plants in the exact same order, and by taking her scent afterwards, they were able to mark the distinct combination of smells the Town cat used to disguise themselves. They had then tracked that smell through the territory, discovering quite a bit about the cat’s patterns.

              One, they were unpredictable. The cat never took the same path twice, making sure to double back and do whatever they could to throw off pursuers. It pointed to paranoia, and definitely confirmed this was no average trespasser. Secondly, the scent always disappeared into Thunderclan territory. They couldn’t track it from there, of course, but they found trace amounts of oak and birch leading back through their territory and to the Town. It never strayed to their border with Windclan or any other parts of their territory besides the area between the Town and the Thunderclan border, sticking more or less to the same swath of territory. Rosestar had started posting his best trackers, cleverly disguised, throughout the murderer’s most traversed areas, hoping to catch them. So far nothing had come of it, but it also seemed that the cat had been making fewer trips into their territory. Piketail couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the murderers being focused on Windclan instead.

              Their worst fears had come true, the warning Snowdrift received coming to pass. Kestrelcall had been killed, his son blinded and Shalestar’s daughter maimed. The Windclan leader had sent a runner to each clan to warn them of the news. Tensions in the clans were at an all time high- Riverclan and now Windclan were looking to the other clans for help, which resulted in a mixed success. Stonestar was now closely guarding his medicine cats. He was certain they were next on the list. Rosestar was similarly hesitant, but was also deeply worried about what would happen to the clans at large should any of them lose all contact with the ancestors. Fernfire was of the same mind. As such, the Shadowclan leader would send his medicine cat out guarded by at least three warriors to visit Windclan and Riverclan, and would escort Splashpaw and Teaselpaw to his camp personally alongside his best fighters. It was a help, but it was also impractical, as any emergencies that cropped up could not be dealt with efficiently. Something had to give, and soon.

              For Riverclan’s part, Oakstar had taken to having constant border patrols, as well as a roving battle patrol at all times. Splashpaw was also to be accompanied at all times and a warrior slept in front of the medicine den every night. It was exhausting, but a combination of determination and fear kept them on their paws. For his part now, Piketail was aware of every sound, scent, and bit of movement, not letting his guard down for a second. He gave Splashpaw a quick glance before continuing his watch.

              “No worries. I’ll make sure to rest when we get back.” They were deep in the trees now, and Piketail kept his ears pricked as he helped Splashpaw claw some moss from an oak tree, head swiveling so much he must resemble an owl.  He was about to pick up the ball of moss he had collected when he smelled it.

              Mint.

              Immediately he looked up and saw a dark blur falling out of the tree towards him. He darted out of the way and the cat crashed to the ground, stumbling as they did. Piketail put himself in front of Splashpaw, snarling in rage. It was a dark gray molly, her front right leg missing. She looked at him with furious green eyes, meeting his challenge with a hiss of her own.

              This must be the Town cat.

              She looked big, with long, dark gray fur, and from the look on her face he knew she’d be a fierce opponent. But Piketail was strong, an adept fighter in his own right, and most importantly, he knew how to pick his battles. He turned to a paralyzed Splashpaw and shoved him, hard, in the direction of camp.

              “Run!” He yowled, and the silver tabby took off like a shot, Piketail hot on his heels. They needed to get out of the trees and back to the clear grassland. Piketail knew a patrol would be nearby- they just had to make it long enough to find them. He also knew that this Town cat had an accomplice, and that he couldn’t let Splashpaw be separated from him.

              Sure enough, there was crashing in the undergrowth to his left, and he cursed his missing eye under his breath- whoever it was, they were trying to sneak up on his blind side. He herded Splashpaw sharply to the right, the tree line in sight. The apprentice put on a burst of speed, and Piketail thanked the ancestors as they broke out of the woods and into the open part of the territory. He could see the camp below them, down near the river, and hoped that they were now visible as well.

              He could hear one of their pursuers drop off behind him, staying in the trees, but the other one continued. In the wide-open space of the grassland, they were quickly gaining on him, and Piketail decided enough was enough. Taking a deep breath, he slowed, yowling a warning call as loud as he could. It cracked and rolled over the grass, hopefully drawing the attention of the patrol nearby. Splashpaw slowed enough to look over his shoulder, yellow eyes wide and terrified. Piketail gave him a breathless smile.

              “Go!”

Splashpaw seemed to hesitate for a moment before following the command, picking up speed as he fled to the camp. Piketail screeched to a stop, turning in one fluid movement to then leap on the surprised molly who was just behind him.

              See, Piketail was angry. He was angry, he was tired, and he was itching to let loose the maelstrom of emotions that had taken up residence in his gut the moment he found Reedpelt’s body.            

              The molly went rolling, and he discovered that she was actually quite skinny under all that fur. While that meant he had the upper hand in strength, she would most likely be faster than him. At least her missing leg precluded her making direct hits on his blind side, something which evened the playing field a bit. Still, Piketail needed to finish this, and quickly. He had no reservations about using deadly force in this situation either, so his first move was to try and grab the molly by the throat. Sensing he was playing for keeps, she barely dodged, slithering out from his hold to face him, face contorted in rage.

              And so it began. He’d strike, she’d dodge, she’d snap, he’d hit, and they flattened the grass around them as they rolled and snarled and fought. Finally, though, he managed to grab her front leg, and he bit down, hard, twisting his head and grinding his teeth until he felt a crack that satisfied that dark, raging part of him that called for him to just end it. The molly howled, somehow managing to contort herself to where she could land a solid kick right to his jaw. The blow momentarily stunned him, loosening his hold enough for her to rip her leg out of his grasp, and she turned tail and ran, a miserable, limping gate. Shaking his head to try and clear the ringing in his ears, Piketail took off, chasing her all the way back to the tree line. He slowed as she disappeared into the undergrowth, reluctant to pursue her alone when her accomplice was more than likely lurking in the shadows.

              There was a commotion behind him, and he turned to see Coppertail’s battle patrol loping up to him.

              “Two of them, in the trees,” he rasped, suddenly aware of his heaving sides and stinging wounds. His breath clouded the air in front of him as he gasped for breath. “Dark molly, three legs, wounded her pretty bad. Didn’t see the other one.” Coppertail nodded as his three other clanmates raced into the trees, giving him a concerned once over.

              “You alright getting back to camp by yourself lad?” He rumbled, and Piketail gave him a hasty nod.

              “I’m fine.” That was all the assurance Coppertail needed, quickly following after the patrol. Piketail shook himself before turning, taking off at a trot towards the camp.

              When he made it back the whole camp was swarming like an ant pile, Oakstar and Splashpaw in the center of the hubbub. The poor apprentice still looked terribly frightened, and Oakstar looked furious as he gave out orders. He perked up as Piketail stumbled into camp, concern clear in his gray eyes.

              “Piketail! Thank the stars. We were worried about you.” He rumbled as Piketail came to a stop in front of him, giving the leader a respectful nod.

              “Nothing too bad, I don’t think.” He said, glancing at Splashpaw as he did, trying to reassure the young tom. “Mostly just some scratches.” He then gave his report to his leader, detailing how the molly had tried to surprise him and the ensuing chase, painfully admitting his inability to see the other assailant, and describing the way he managed to wound his opponent. Oakstar nodded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

              “Good,” he growled. “Excellent work. You saved Splashpaw’s life, and gave us the biggest insight into the perpetrators yet. I’m proud to have you as a member of my clan.” Piketail couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable at the praise, both because he wasn’t used to it and, well, he was considering leaving said clan. Regardless, he gave Oakstar a grateful blink, a little warmth growing in his chest at the words.

              “I promised I would never let anyone hurt him.” He murmured. Oakstar gave him another nod, before turning to Splashpaw. The silver tabby was eyeing Piketail critically, no doubt cataloguing his different wounds.

              “If you’re alright now Splashpaw, I’ll leave you in Piketail’s capable care. And he in yours.” With that the leader was off, and Splashpaw and Piketail were left looking at each other. Splashpaw jerked his head towards the medicine den, and Piketail obediently followed after him.

              “Alright, wait here a moment while I grab some things, and clean your wounds.” The little tabby ordered, and Piketail’s nose twitched as he suppressed a snort. He did as he was told, discovering only a few scratches along his flanks, only one of which was particularly nasty. Then there was the sore jaw and headache blooming behind his forehead. But overall, he felt like he had escaped relatively unscathed. Can’t say the same for her, he thought with a sort of dark amusement.  Splashpaw returned from the den with a small amount of dry herbs and cobwebs, ducking back in to get a large shell that had some water in it. He chewed up the herbs before spitting them into the water, letting it sit for a moment as he sniffed over Piketail’s pelt.

              “Well, looks like you handled that pretty well,” the apprentice declared, his cheerful tone sounding a little forced. Piketail did his best to wink, hard with just one eye, puffing up in exaggerated pride.

              “Ah, well, I am one of the best fighters in Riverclan, don’t you know. No sneaky rogue has a chance against me.” He preened, and was happy to see his dramatics had the desired effect. Splashpaw’s shoulders loosened a bit, and he seemed a bit more at ease as he began to soak the herb water in a strange, ragged looking moss. He pressed the now soaking moss to Piketail’s wounds, packing the somewhat rehydrated herbs into the deeper cut on the warrior’s side. This he then swathed in cobwebs, but he left the rest of the scratches bare. The healer apprentice then bid Piketail to drink what remained of the water.

              “It’ll help you fight off any infection. I’m not going to waste the cobwebs on the minor cuts since they should be fine on their own, but just make sure to keep them clean, alright?” Piketail nodded, ears beginning to droop as he realized just how tired he was. Splashpaw seemed to notice, giving him a sympathetic blink. “You should go get some sleep. I’ll make sure you’re up in enough time to eat something before you have to meet the others. And…” Splashpaw looked down at his paws before looking back up at Piketail, face so somber and serious it almost made Piketail wince. Splashpaw was supposed to be bright, laughing and jovial or sly and mischievous, not looking like an elder, with a gaunt face and tired eyes. He wasn’t even nine moons old yet. “Thank you, for saving my life.” The apprentice mewed.

              Piketail blinked slowly, the injustice of the situation stirring up that terrible anger again. How could any cat terrorize an innocent like this? How could that molly ever have looked at Splashpaw and decided to hurt him? Kill him? Piketail pushed the feeling back down, not wanting to upset the little tom before him, and reached forward to give him a gentle nudge.

              “Hey, don’t even worry about it. I know I’m not the most sentimental, but…” He knew it was true, what he was about to say, but then, actually sharing his feeling was a bit outside his purview. Still, he would do it, for Splashpaw’s sake. “You, your sister, Littlepaw, hell, even Goldenpaw, as annoying as she can be- I’ve always thought of you as the little siblings I never got to have. And I’ll never let anyone hurt my family.” Splashpaw’s eyes grew wide, and Piketail felt a bit nervous, even though he knew he shouldn’t, but rejection was a fraught topic for him. To his relief, Splashpaw’s eyes crinkled up in a smile, and the little tom let out a purr that actually sounded genuine for the first time since Reedpelt was killed.

              “Well, Horsetail, I always did want an older brother. Not that Dandelion isn’t my brother, but everyone knows he’s the baby in this little family of ours.” Piketail couldn’t help but laugh at that. But Splashpaw was right- even though Littlepaw and Goldenpaw were a moon or so older than their peers, they still acted younger in different ways. Piketail hoped as they all grew older they’d stay so close, that nothing would tear them apart in the way he and his friends had been. The scarred warrior gave the apprentice another nudge before letting out a jaw cracking yawn. Splashpaw gave him a sympathetic blink. “Now go get some rest. I’ll make sure to wake you in time.” With a grateful nod, Piketail turned and slowly made his way to the warrior’s den, the aches and pains of his wounds starting to make themselves known. He collapsed into his nest with a sigh, and his usual prayer- please, let me sleep without dreaming.

________________________________________________________________

              Piketail did dream, but it was strangely… pleasant. He didn’t remember it when Splashpaw gently shook him awake, but he just felt good. A shame, really, that the good dreams couldn’t stick. He shook himself roughly, dispelling the last bit of sleep, and followed Splashpaw over to the front of the medicine den. The silver tom had a mouse waiting for him there.

              “I doubt anyone will ask, but if they do, I’ll let them know you went to clear your head.” Splashpaw murmured as Piketail neatly ate his food in a few quick bites. “And I wanted to ask you a favor. Goldenpaw is still burning up, and I can’t think of anything besides dunking her head in the river. Can you ask Snowdrift what to do for me?” Piketail nodded.

              “Of course. Hopefully he’ll know what to do.” Splashpaw gave him a tired look.

              “He better. She may be a bully sometimes, but that’s just ‘cause she’s jealous of Littlepaw. She’s been better about that recently anyway.” Piketail blinked at the healer apprentice’s rather frank observation. At first, he didn’t believe it- Goldenpaw was quite literally the golden apprentice. The best hunter, the best fighter, smart and brave. She had always outshone Littlepaw, which was something that always irked Piketail- she was admittedly better at most things, so why did she have to push her brother around so much? But, well, now that he thought of it…

              Littlepaw had been a sickly kit, and to this day was the main focus of their mother’s attention. Their father had died when they were young as well, which left Dawnface even more protective, especially of Littlepaw. And Ripplepaw and Splashpaw had always been fonder of the golden tom, and since there weren’t any other apprentices, Piketail was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Goldenpaw was lonely. And felt neglected. And that pushed her to be a brat, because at least then her mother paid attention to her, and her peers had to take notice. She was an immature apprentice lashing out.

              That didn’t excuse her actions of course, especially since she’d be a warrior soon enough, but Piketail was a little more sympathetic to the golden molly. When she’s better, I’ll make more of an effort. He decided firmly. I know what it’s like to be on the fringes, even if it’s for a different reason. Plan made, Piketail hauled himself once more to his feet, cuts stinging but headache mercifully gone. It was time to go. He bid Splashpaw goodbye, setting off at a slow pace, not caring much as his tail dragged along behind him. Piketail didn’t have to fake his dejection as he left camp, barely acknowledging the sympathetic blinks his clanmates gave him as he went. As soon as he was safely out of sight, he took up a trot, heading along the border towards Fourtrees. He had to be more careful, with the patrols and such about, but it would be fine. He could be sneaky when he wanted to.

              Piketail made it to Fourtrees without raising any suspicions, having passed a patrol but only receiving understanding nods from his clanmates. With them none the wiser, it had been an easy trip. Snowdrift was once again in the hollow, with a surprisingly early Briarmask alongside him. They looked up to greet him as he came down the slope, eyes widening in alarm as they took in his wounds.

              “What the hell happened to you?” Briarmask asked, giving him a critical once over as he sat down beside her.

              “I was attacked by the Town cat- she tried to ambush me and Splashpaw when we were out collecting bedding. Thankfully, I drove her off and he’s safe.” He quickly assured them, soothing the panicked look in their eyes. Snowdrift opened his mouth to say something when the smell of Windclan drifted in on the breeze.

              Teaselpaw was padding down the slope, and she wasn’t alone. Two warriors prowled alongside her, and Piketail sat straight up as he realized it was Shalestar and her son. Briarmask looked calm, but her ear was twitching, and true to form Snowdrift looked more bemused than concerned. He stood and offered the leader a respectful nod, which the two warriors were quick to copy.

              “Greetings, Shalestar. Ancestor’s blessing upon you! I was not expecting to see you here.” Snowdrift mewed, and there was an unspoken question in his words. Shalestar returned his greetings before taking a seat, at which point the rest of the cats sat as well. Piketail had never been this close to the molly before, and was surprised to see she was taller than he was, but only barely. Her son, however, stood a full ear length taller than her, and with those Windclan bat ears, that was saying something. Piketail internally chastised himself as he realized Shalestar was speaking, forcing himself to focus on her words.

              “I could not, in good conscience, allow Teaselpaw to traverse the territory alone, but I also understand the importance of these meetings as well as the importance of keeping them a secret. Since Teaselpaw had already informed me of what was happening, I decided to accompany her here. My son, Cinderfall, is trustworthy- I swear by all nine of my lives.” The tom in question was somber, but his eyes burned with an anger that was all too familiar to Piketail. And who could blame him? “We will leave you alone to speak if you wish,” she continued, “but will stay close by to look out for any trouble.” Snowdrift glanced at Piketail and Briarmask before speaking.

              “You are more than welcome to stay. We would appreciate your input, and Teaselpaw would only need to fill you in later anyway.” Piketail nodded in agreement. It would be nice to have someone here who actually knows what they’re doing, he thought drily. He then realized that Snowdrift was staring at him expectantly, and he cleared his throat.

              “Uh, yes, I was just telling Snowdrift and Briarmask that I have seen the Town cat. She attacked me and Splashpaw today, but thankfully, he escaped unscathed. There was another cat there that I could hear, but they stayed hidden. They did not pursue us when we broke cover and so I was able to fight off the molly.” All eyes were on him, the others leaning forward intently.

              “Dipperwing was blinded before he could see his attackers, and Silverfang has been unable to speak because of her wound. Did you recognize her at all?” Teaselpaw asked suddenly, her bright green eyes wide and searching. Piketail shook his head.

              “No- I’ve never seen her before. She was dark gray, fluffy, green eyes, and she was missing her front right leg. She fought well, despite it.” He admitted. “I managed to wound her fairly bad. I at least fractured her only foreleg, if not outright broke it.” Piketail was vindicated by the grim satisfaction on his fellow warrior’s faces, but was disconcerted by the look on Snowdrift’s. The snowy tom looked like he’d seen a ghost, staring at Piketail with shocked eyes so wide he could see a glimpse of white at the corners.

              “…What is it?” He asked the medicine cat, concern rapidly growing. “Do you know who that is?”

              “I- maybe, I never met her, but-“ Snowdrift swallowed hard. “Stonestar’s mate, Featherfall. She ruined her foreleg in an accident a long time ago. They- the clan, they told everyone she died, but Stonestar brought her to the twolegs. Softgaze told me she was dark gray, and that Mintfrost has her eyes-“ Snowdrift was looking distinctly ill, and Piketail felt ice pricking down his spine as he started to put the pieces together.

              “You thought you saw Mintfrost, that night, speaking to a dark colored cat.” Briarmask said, eyes narrowed. “We knew this couldn’t be an ordinary Town cat- they were too familiar with our patrol structures, too used to the forest for just some rogue. Mintfrost isn’t the murderer, but she looks just like her father, right? Which means-“

              “Are you telling me Stonestar is the other murderer?” Piketail had almost forgotten Shalestar was there, but he nearly jumped out of his fur at the furious hiss she let out. With her fur bristling like that, the gray molly had seemingly doubled in sized, resembling a thunder cloud more than the sleek, calm cat that was sitting there a moment ago. Even though her anger wasn’t directed at him, Piketail couldn’t help but feel nervous. A brush against his pelt revealed Briarmask trying to subtly scoot away from the enraged leader, and he obligingly shuffled over to give her some room to escape.

              “It… would explain a lot. Oh, stars.” Snowdrift murmured, looking unsteady. Piketail, now sitting closer to the tom than before, tensed, ready to catch him if the medicine cat suddenly swooned.

              “… What do we do?” Came a small voice. Piketail glanced over to see Teaselpaw had sat forward, eyes flicking between her gathered companions. “We know the truth, but to everyone else, there’s no proof. No one would believe it if we told them Stonestar was working with his mate, who everyone thinks of as dead, to murder all medicine cats. I almost don’t believe it.” The little molly had a point. They couldn’t just accuse Stonestar out of the blue. They needed proof, proof that anyone could see was legitimate. But how?

              “We need to a lay a trap.” Briarmask said abruptly, and my, wasn’t that such a Shadowclan thing to say. “It makes sense, now, why Thunderclan hasn’t been hit. He’s either afraid of calling attention to himself or he’s saving the best for last. I’m assuming, based on our theory,” here, she glanced at Snowdrift, “that Softgaze is the primary focus of their anger.” The medicine nodded reluctantly. “So, that means that Shadowclan should be next on their list. I can talk to Rosestar and Fernfire. If we can draw them out, if other cats can vouch that they saw Stonestar attack a medicine cat- well, we might just be able to sway the clans against him.”

              It was risky, but it could work. And honestly, it seemed like their only option right now. Determination settled over the group like a frost, cold but invigorating. The end was in sight- if they could pull this off. Shalestar suddenly focused on Piketail, and the gray warrior couldn’t help but instinctively straighten under her gaze. Even if she wasn’t his leader, she was still a leader, and every warrior held a deep-seated respect for the position.

              “Well, I am aware of what’s going on, Rosestar will believe his niece, and Snowdrift will obviously not be speaking to Stonestar of this. So, warrior, do you think Oakstar will believe you if you share this with him?” Piketail hesitated. Oakstar was… somewhat abreast of the situation. He had gone with Splashpaw to their leader after Reedpelt died, briefly filling him in on what they knew about the omen and the murderers. But Oakstar was an old cat, firmly rooted in his way of doing things, and Piketail had no particular connection to his leader that would sway the old cat into believing that his fellow leader was actually a cold blooded murderer.

              “Knowing Oakstar, it will take some convincing, but I can try. If Splashpaw helps me, he’ll probably believe it.” He hoped, at least. That seemed to satisfy Shalestar, however.

              “I would like you two to inform Rosestar and Oakstar of what we have discovered and tell them I would like to meet with them, sooner rather than later. Tomorrow night, preferably. I would like to get moving on this.” All Briarmask and Piketail could do was give her obedient nods, although Piketail felt his stomach tighten in anxiety. Shalestar twitched an ear in acknowledgement before casting her gaze around the gathered cats. “If that’s all, I’d like to get Teaselpaw home now. Don’t think I didn’t hear you still sneezing, earlier.” This stern chiding was directed at the apprentice, who pinned her ears back sheepishly. With that the leader bid them all farewell, sweeping Teaselpaw back up the slope and out of the clearing without any further fanfare, which Piketail was grateful for. He wanted to speak to Snowdrift and Briarmask without being overheard.

              “I have something to ask both of you- but, uh, different questions.” They both turned to him with curious looks. “Snowdrift, an apprentice in my clan has been sick with terrible fevers. Splashpaw’s tried everything short of dunking her in the river and it won’t break.” Snowdrift hummed thoughtfully, brow furrowed in concern.

              “I’m assuming he’s been giving her feverfew and willow water?” Piketail nodded. “Lavender could help in addition, but the best thing would be borage. The only problem is you need it fresh, and right now it’s too cold for it.” Piketail felt his heart sink- Splashpaw had bemoaned the lack of borage before, but it seemed like his fears were confirmed. Beside him, Briarmask cleared her throat.

              “I’m only going to tell this to you two because I know you won’t say anything about it. Ever.” Both toms nodded quickly, easily reading the threat in her words. “Rosestar’s mother, my grandmother, is a kittypet- she lives a little ways into the Town. Her twolegs have this weird glass den in their garden with a bunch of herbs and stuff in it- sometimes, when we’re desperate, Rosestar can go there and find the fresh herbs. We don’t do it often because the Town can be dangerous, but I can go see if they have borage. If I go tonight or in the day tomorrow, Rosestar could bring it when he meets the other leaders.” Piketail could have yowled for joy at her words. Instead, he gave her a grateful smile.

              “I don’t know how we could repay you for that. Thank you, that could be what saves Goldenpaw.” Briarmask shrugged, as if she were unbothered, but she cleared her throat a little awkwardly.

              “It’s fine,” she huffed, “I could never sit by and let an apprentice suffer if I could do something. Besides, I haven’t seen grandmother in a while anyway. Now, you have something to ask me too?” Piketail sobered, looking down at his feet. He couldn’t help the lump that grew in his throat, doing his best to swallow around it. The meeting had distracted him from Grayfeather’s death, but now it hit him again, full force.

              “Well, there’s not an easy way to say this,” he hedged, and both Briarmask and Snowdrift leaned towards him, curious and concerned. “My mother- well, died. Last night.” He cleared his throat. “And before she did, she told me, um, that, uh- my father is Lizardspots.” Piketail dared to glance up after his rush of words, and nearly flinched. Both of his companions were looking at him like he had two heads. Briarmask’s mouth had actually dropped open in shock.

              “That old stick in the mud had a mate in another clan?” She asked incredulously, and then, to Piketail’s bemusement, a devious grin crawled across her face. “Oh, man, wait until Uncle finds out. He’ll be pissed.” His anxiety must have been clear on his face, as the pointed molly took one look at him and quickly began to backpedal. “Oh, uh, no, no, he won’t be pissed at you. Uncle will be pissed at Lizardspots ‘cause Lizardspots was always up his ass about the rules and stuff. Rosestar is much more sympathetic to half-clan relationships than one might think. And sorry. About your mom. Stars guide her.” It took all Piketail’s self-control to not let out a sigh of relief, and he instead settled on a nod.

              “Good,” he mewed, “because I’d like to talk to him. About, um, joining Shadowclan.” Now that he said it out loud, he could acknowledge it sounded a little crazy, but it also felt right. And besides, it wasn’t against the Code or anything. And, even better, Briarmask looked like she was actually considering it, not just dismissing him outright.

              “Well, I can think of a few who would be happy with that,” she mused, ignoring Piketail’s confused blink. “Tell you what- I'll talk to Rosestar about it tonight and let you know what he says next time we meet, so you can see if you even need to speak to Oakstar about it.” That… was actually not bad news. He would have to trust Briarmask knew her uncle well enough to gauge his most probable reaction and think Piketail had a chance at success. He nodded in agreement, and Snowdrift cleared his throat.

              “What an eventful evening! Piketail, I have to say, I’m so sorry for your loss. And it’s incredible that you managed to keep Splashpaw safe. Thank you for that.” Piketail had had enough praise for the day- it was starting to become rather uncomfortable, so he just murmured a thank you and stood. He gave Briarmask a glance.

              “I know Stonestar is unlikely to murder you now or anything,” Piketail mewed, “but still, let me and Briarmask walk you home. It wouldn’t be good for you to go by yourself.” To his surprise, Snowdrift blinked sheepishly.

              “Um, well, I’m actually not alone this time.” The medicine cat pointed with his nose towards the slope that led to Thunderclan territory. A white head popped out of the bushes at his gesture, followed closely by a dark ginger smudge. Piketail was pretty sure the white one waved at them. “My brother and his, uh, friend? Caught me sneaking out and I kind of had to tell them what was going on. They’ll make sure I’m ok.” Well, that meant Piketail didn’t have to slog through the undergrowth of Thunderclan’s territory, so he’d take it. Instead, he bid farewell to his companions, who returned his well wishes with their own blessings and sympathies. As he turned and trotted back up the slope, Piketail felt the different emotions that had been raging inside him begin to settle, solidifying into a lump of furious focus.

              This was going to end. Soon.

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