#Troutpool

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 102, Part 1

With her mother dead, Quickpaw wishes to live with her lost littermates as a historian rather than a mediator. Boughfur promises to restart her training and help her catch up to everyone else.

[Image ID: Pearbranch and Icepaw, both with adult sprites, gather around an adult Quickpaw. Under her, it reads NEW(ISH) PLAYER: QUICKPAW, 12, FEMALE, AMBITIOUS, GOOD SWIMMER. Behind the siblings, Boughfur says, "Lettucestar might not like losing a Clanmate, but he values family. He wouldn't keep you from yours."]

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Boughfur chuckled as Icepaw and Pearbranch paced around the border. "Just be honest. How often did you see her?"

"Usually every new moon," Pearbranch said, absently clawing the side of a tree.

"Pearbranch!" Icepaw whined, hopping up from where he rested.

"She said she won't tell!" Pearbranch huffed.

"Not that it matters anymore," Boughfur purred. "You'll be able to spend your first proper Longest Night together. You won't have to worry about politics anymore."

It was hard to say it would be a "proper" Longest Night, Icepaw thought. The holiday was just a few days away, and despite winter chill claiming the land, there had been no snow. Rather than trotting through snow and ice, as Icepaw's earliest memories recalled, he slipped on frosty leaves long since crumbled under the weight of passing deer. Had it been so snowless and gray when Puddlewhisper found Icepaw and Pearbranch? And now, a year later, the lost daughter was rejoining her litter.

The sunrise illuminated the gaps of the trees, making it easy to see the approaching figure. Icepaw and Pearbranch both perked their ears and tightened their chests. Quickpaw's brown eyes looked orange in the winter dawn, gleaming with hope.

"Hi," Quickpaw laughed, voice cracking with a joyful cry.

Icepaw and Pearbranch surged past Boughfur before the older historian could say a word. Pearbranch wrapped her front paws around Quickpaw, purring deeply. Icepaw pressed his head into Quickpaw's cheek. Quickpaw pulled her brother and sister close, laughing through what few sobs escaped.

"Welcome to RippleClan, Quickpaw," Boughfur said, stirring Icepaw from his blinding joy. "The Clan is excited to greet you."

"I, uh," Quickpaw gulped, collecting her breath, "I hope it wasn't hard to get Lettucestar to let me go." Pearbranch groomed Quickpaw's neck, as though trying to clean off the stench of still water and mud.

"Lettucestar might not like losing a Clanmate," Boughfur explained, "but he values family. He wouldn't keep you from yours."

"You'll be a historian in no time!" Pearbranch declared. She hesitated, however, stepping back and adding, "If you still want to switch paths, I mean."

"I do," Quickpaw sighed with a dip of her head. "I like science more than diplomacy. I'll be happier as a historian."

"That's why Oilstar asked me to meet you," Boughfur chuckled, moving close. "We discussed who would be the best choice of mentor, and Oilstar thought I would do well."

"You're Boughfur, right?" Quickpaw said. "I've spent some time with your sisters."

"You'll be my first apprentice," Boughfur chirped, adjusting the dry flowers on her pelt. "I promise, I won't treat you like a kit. You're an adult, and I want to respect that, even if you have to restart your training. I want us to be partners more than mentor and apprentice."

"I like that," Quickpaw purred. She touched noses with her new mentor, shimmering with anticipation.

"Quickpaw, Quickpaw!" Icepaw cheered, laughing. When Quickpaw gave him an odd look, he huffed, "We weren't at your apprentice ceremony! Feels right to chant your name now."

"Quickpaw, Quickpaw!" Pearbranch chanted, kneading the limp leaves. Quickpaw laughed and waved her siblings back to her side.

"Quick, Sleek, and Silent," Quickpaw chuckled as Icepaw and Pearbranch pressed into her. "Back together again."

(Boughfur: 34, female, historian, righteous, great climber)

(Pearbranch: 12, female, historian, righteous, good hunter, good storyteller)

(Icepaw: 12, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Quickpaw: 12, female, historian apprentice, ambitious, good swimmer)

Speaking with Quickpaw about her grief for her mother helps Honeybuzz heal from Stormjump’s death.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Quickpaw sit in the medicine den together. Quickpaw says, "It's hard to grieve her when everyone here hates her." Under Honeybuzz, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

---

Honeybuzz was not the right cat to introduce Longest Night to his sons. He wasn't in a particularly festive mood that year, and the kits didn't deserve to have such a great night ruined by grief and bitterness. There were plenty of clerics in RippleClan to conduct the night's religious rites. Honeybuzz could organize the medicine den. That was for the best.

While it was a snowless holiday, it was far from warm. Half the Clan stayed near the main bonfire, tucked under long pelts and in each other's embrace. Others fixed the torches along the edge of camp and muttered prayers to their respective Celestials. They traded gifts or gathered around Frostdancer, who expertly played the Gutpluck. Beekit, Morningkit, and Patchkit were with Yellowburst and Sandhollow, enjoying a wide collection of gifts from their aunt and various uncles.

Now it is important to mention that Honeybuzz was not neglected on that cold and bitter night. His gifts neatly lined his nest. His brothers each carved a leaf into a chunk of wood, a piece of art to always remind Honeybuzz that he was loved. Troutpool revealed a new mortar and pestle for the medicine den, and the other clerics each gave each other dyed mossballs. They certainly brightened the dim, empty medicine den, but the light merely swirled around Honeybuzz's heart. It had yet to penetrate.

"Hi, Honeybuzz." Honeybuzz had been cupping his cicada wing necklace in his paw, staring mindlessly at the half-preserved membrane, when Quickpaw's voice startled him back to reality. The newcomer had a new necklace around her neck, carrying two wooden charms; one a diamond, the other a foreign shape, like a small circle sitting on a larger one.

Honeybuzz must have been staring for longer than he intended, as Quickpaw glanced at her gift and said, "Oh, my siblings surprised me with this. The diamond is supposed to be a shard of ice, and this thing is shaped like a pear. They would have made something for me, but what shape represents quick? Heh."

"It's a good gift," Honeybuzz hummed. "So, what do you need?"

"I think all this socialization is giving me a headache," Quickpaw sighed, squeezing her eyes tight. "Icepaw said I could use his 'stash', whatever that means." Honeybuzz scoffed softly, flicking his ears toward the patient nests. He led Quickpaw further into the shadows.

A small jar sat inside one of the nests. While faded in the dark, Honeybuzz could see the diamond carved into the side of the terracotta. So that was the symbol's meaning…

"Icepaw spends quite a bit of time in here with his chronic headaches," Honeybuzz explained. "We decided that rather than prepare fresh medicine every time he needed it, we could give Icepaw a jar of herbs he could lick from when he came in. Gingerspring figured out what herbs best help your brother and keeps the jar stocked. Just take a tongue-ful." Honeybuzz carefully undid the leather lid, revealing a chunky powder of dandelion, feverfew, and valerian root. Quickpaw stuck her muzzle in, flinching as the pottery rubbed awkwardly against her whiskers. She licked up a dose of the medicine and pulled back, smacking her lips.

"You would think I'd be used to talking with everyone," Quickpaw sighed, glancing back toward the party. "I spent half my life training for it. This just feels different." Wait, was Quickpaw going to vent to Honeybuzz? This was far from the night where Honeybuzz could offer a kind ear.

"If you're overwhelmed," Honeybuzz sighed, sealing the jar, "I'm sure you can sleep early. You could join Puddlewhisper and your siblings. I overheard Icepaw brag about sleeping in the warrior's den tonight."

"I don't know if Puddlewhisper would really welcome me," Quickpaw groaned, taking a seat near Weevilsight's nest. And Honeybuzz only encouraged her, how wonderful. "She's been nothing but nice, but I'm not one of her kits. Nimblestep will always be my mom… but some cats might resent that."

Honeybuzz sighed. It seemed there was no hiding from the world that night. If Stormjump were around, she would have encouraged someone, anyone, to go see Honeybuzz, whether their tail was falling off or they had a cough. Could she have nudged Quickpaw Honeybuzz's way? He should help her, he was a father after all, these were the sort of things fathers should be able to work through. What if it were Patchkit asking those questions?

"I don't see how anyone could resent you for something you didn't do," Honeybuzz pointed out, taking a reluctant seat.

"I guess it's a SlugClan habit," Quickpaw sighed. "There's a belief over there that if someone avoids judgment, their children must answer in their stead. It restores power to StarClan, I think. Mom told me not to put my faith in that, but it does make me think. Should I be doing something to make up for what my mom did to RippleClan? Would I feel less guilty?" Quickpaw hid behind her whiskers as she added, "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's feelings for you."

"That all sounds like yet another tradition our founders wanted to leave behind," Honeybuzz huffed. "You are your own molly here, Quickpaw. You leave your own legacy."

"That's true," Quickpaw admitted with another glance outside. She took a big breath and said, "It's hard to grieve her when everyone here hates her."

"From Icepaw's stories," Honeybuzz sighed, "you're not one to back away from bullies." Honeybuzz rolled the orange-dyed moss-ball, made by Gingerspring, under his paw. "I'm sure if someone is selfish enough to yowl at you for grieving, you can show them who's in the wrong."

"Right once again," Quickpaw chuckled softly. "I guess that's cleric wisdom."

"Might just be Honeybuzz wisdom," Honeybuzz hummed. "Have you met Gingerspring?" Quickpaw snorted, nodding along to the harsh joke. Honeybuzz suddenly realized it was the first joke he had told since the Ocean's Assault.

"I think Icepaw's 'stash' is starting to help my headache," Quickpaw purred, stretching her flank high. "Thank you, Honeybuzz. I think I can face the crowd again. Are you going to stay in here all night?" Honeybuzz looked outside. Beekit, Morningkit, and Patchkit had left Yellowburst and Sandhollow behind in favor of trying out the large drum Rattlepelt saved from the flood. Patchkit beat awkwardly to the rhythm of Frostdancer's music.

"Perhaps I shouldn't," Honeybuzz hummed.

The light of the bonfire inched past the cold and warmed Honeybuzz's heart.

(Honeybuzz: 50, male, cleric, daring, sklled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Quickpaw: 12, female, historian apprentice, ambitious, good swimmer)

Waspdawn comes down with Vasco’s yellowcough, making the clerics, Wolfgaze, and Anchovystrike wonder if the Rat Leaders in the human settlement may grow to affect RippleClan more with their new arrivals.

[Image ID: The five clerics, Wolfgaze, and Anchovystrike gather together. Honeybuzz says, "We can’t predict what loners we’ll come across. Anchovystrike should examine all visitors for rat leaders." Waspdawn and Vasco stand in the back. Under Waspdawn, it says + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH.]

(Troutpool: 63, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Wolfgaze: 37, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)

(Honeybuzz: 50, male, cleric, daring, sklled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Estherfern: 136, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Gingerspring: 18, male, cleric, charismatic, human expert, good hunter)

(Anchovystrike: 37, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Weevilsight: 37, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Waspdawn: 68, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Vasco: 13, female, Witch Hunter, lonesome, great kitsitter)

[rippleclan]

Oh my gosh I nearly missed this! I love it! You nailed the family tree, and I’m so glad you remembered Mousesong. I’ll consider family trees part of “Slay Queen” since they have a lot of references.

I suppose this counts as art yes? A part of Rippleclan’s family tree.

[poisons-and-flowers]

Clan Introductions: BrightClan

The first of three clans to be introduced! They are the biggest clan with the smallest territory.

They do something very different compared to the other clans, and that is farming. they keep quail, and have a special den where the quail roost.

They do not have a special role for farming/quail-tending, all cats are taught and expected to tend to the quails.

They also have an area where they grow and tend to herbs, this garden is next to the medicine den.

BrightClan's history is very rich, being the clan that discovered starclan's meeting place. They were also the first clan to change their clan's name.

Allegiance

LEADER: Flarestar—a battlescarred, long-furred, ginger tabby with amber eyes.

DEPUTY: Sootwhisker—a dark gray tom with a torn ear and no tail.

HEALERS: Lightningwing—Mottled gray she-cat with a white muzzle.

Strawberrymane—a large, long-furred, three-legged black tom with pink, blue and yellow markings on his back, paws, ears and tail.

WARRIORS: Ashleap—a brownish-gray ticked tabby she-cat with warm orange eyes.

Iceflight—silver tabby tom.

Smallstripe—a black-and-red tortie she-cat with dark red eyes.

Mellowblood—gray-and-white Bengal tom.

Cinderstone—a scruffy blue tom with hazel eyes.

Sunclaw—bright ginger she-cat with copper eyes.

Hemlockwhisker—Deaf, white she-cat.

Coalpelt—short, heavily scarred black tom.

Haytoe—a pretty, light gray tabby she-cat.

Owlsoar—a light brown tabby she-cat with large blue eyes.

Drizzlefur—black tabby tom.

Troutpool—slick gray tom with emerald green eyes.

Weedtail—smelly, sand-colored tom.

Sageskip—long-furred, dilute ginger tabby she-cat.

Scorchgaze—ginger tabby tom with golden eyes.

Lakegaze—a lanky, white-and-black she-cat with gorgeous dark blue eyes.

Acidflick—a brown tabby cat with striking green eyes and noticable fangs.

APPRENTICES: Spiderpaw—black she-cat with white paws.

Fennelpaw—large, ginger tabby tom with orange eyes.

Rushpaw—pale gray tom covered in white flecks.

Stormpaw—silver tabby she-cat.

Oleanderpaw—lanky, dark brown tom with odd purple eyes and long fangs.

NURSERY: Redberry—long-furred, reddish ginger she-cat(expecting weedtail's kits).

ELDERS: Stonefang—grizzled, blue tom with heterochromic blue and yellow eyes.

Hollywhisker—a brown tabby.

Darkstorm—graying black tom, oldest cat in BrightClan.

[mallycat13]

The rise, where the Popo Agie River resurfaces in a trout pool. #sinkscanyonstatepark #popoagieriver #troutpool (at Sinks Canyon State Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/Brbe12EBape/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1kmi6fk8ysv76

[rippleclan]

Wow wow wow wow WOW!!! Amazing!!!! A wonderful entry!!! I love the thought put into it!!

As an update for the contest, I have decided to extend the deadline to September 27th, because everyone has been putting so much care into this contest, and I want to give you the time you need to make more amazing art! You’ve got some tough competition!

"Livind death omen" Rippleclan art contest entry!!!

This is an entry for @rippleclan 's art contest, in the 18+ Scene category!

The scene of the trial stuck with me a lot while reading, so when I heard of the contest I knew exactly what I wanted to do!

under the readmore there'll be notes on my process, plus some closeups!

-all the markings are taken from both the sprites and Picrew Minis, favoring the sprites for color accuracy, the picrew for the fur shape, and going a bit back and fort for the markings.

-I included the shadow of the storm clouds as a callback to what happened when Troutpool received the prophecy, then the explanation of it is implied through the scenes. They're flowing out of her mouth like that because I wanted them to look like ripples a bit, both for Troutpool's name, Rippleclan, and the crime Tempestshade was accused of.

-of course in the scenes we have Cinderella about to die in pain from birth, with Shadowdrop and Wildclaw taking away Mosskit, Trumpetkit and Tempestkit; Shadowdrop heaving his last breath as he dies from the cold while sheltering Tempestkit from the hail; and Ripplefern being swept away by the wave alongside the raft, still tangled in the rope.

-Tempestshade is pretty simple, they're all scared with big pupils, droopy whiskers and an arched back. The quote is directly from the post!

-I got inspired by the recent Warriors Graphic Novel on how to draw Troutpool's eyes as she receives the prophecy, with all the sparkles and stars, and I made her extra floofy with a bit of a mustache.

hope you like it!

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 95, Part 1

Downstar’s mangled tail takes her final life. Oilstripe journeys to StarClan’s Shrine with Troutpool to receive her nine lives. She doesn’t feel ready, but goes regardless.

[Image ID: Oilstripe sits in front of Downstar, who is curled up in a nest. Troutpool stands behind Oilstripe as the latter says, "I won't leave until she stops breathing, Troutpool."]

Downstar was old. While StarClan had healed her wounds from the SlugClan battle, the shock of it clung to her body. It wasn't ready for the fight with LynxClan. There wasn't much more the clerics could do for Downstar, save give those she loved time to sit beside her and say goodbye.

Sunset bounced off the wall of the medicine den behind Oilstripe as she sat beside her sleeping leader. Downstar laid stretched in her nest, tail tightly wrapped in bandages. Her claws peeked in and out as she dreamed her death dream. She'd barely been able to eat over the last few days, leading her ribs to press against her skin. She already smelled of vigil herbs; lavender and mint. Even though Yarrowclaw had a nest in the medicine den, treating a deep slash along the back of her ankle, she left the deputy to her early vigil.

"Nine lives," Oilstripe muttered. She brushed her tail against Downstar's frail side. "It must have been painful. I hope this feels better." Darkhounds, crazed leaders, humans, blizzards… and she lost her final life to LynxClan cats stealing crabs. Crabs. A leader like Downstar deserved a grander death, deep in the heart of a fearsome battle. Or perhaps a quiet one, where she drifted off in her nest. This was neither. This was… just sad.

"Mom?" Oilstripe looked back to see Troutpool standing just inside the medicine den. Behind her, RippleClan shared tongues, quietly waiting for the moment their first great leader left them for Silverpelt.

"She doesn't have long," Oilstripe sighed, turning back to Downstar. "I don't think she's in much pain."

"I know." Silence itched the back of Oilstripe's neck. "I was talking with the other clerics. It will be dark soon. We think it would be better if you and I… started the trip to StarClan's Shrine. You'll need your nine lives." Oilstripe crouched in front of Downstar's muzzle. Her soft breath stirred the small fibers of the moss underneath her.

"I won't leave until she stops breathing, Troutpool," Oilstripe said. "It wouldn't be right." Oilstripe nuzzled Downstar's muzzle. The tortoiseshell leader did not react.

"She'll go at any moment," Troutpool groaned softly. "You can only get your lives at night. And… I know you've noticed her."

Yes, Oilstripe had seen the spirit sitting just beside the den wall, watching Downstar closely. Duskkit stared at her mother, still as a hunter. With the true dusk shining through the thinnest gaps in the wood, Duskkit seemed not like a glowing spirit, visible only to Oilstripe and Troutpool, but a normal kit, a juniper-wearing black tabby waiting for her mother.

"There are a lot of cats waiting for her," Duskkit said. She moved closer to Downstar's sleeping body, peering at the gray fur lining her muzzle. "I want to be the first face she sees when she wakes up." She turned back to Oilstripe and added "She'll see you there, Oilstripe. It's alright." Oilstripe's throat closed. This was really happening. StarClan, she was going to become RippleClan's leader. Fear tightened her shoulders and pushed out her claws.

"I still need to prepare a travel mixture," Troutpool said softly. "That would give you a little more time." When Oilstripe did not respond, Troutpool slipped around her mother and to her stores. She quietly plucked drying herbs from their shelves and placed them in a stone bowl for grinding, worn to a deep dip over moons of artisanal pressure. As her paw pressed the herbs against the stone, transforming them into powder and paste, Oilstripe moved around Duskkit and Downstar. The ginger deputy placed her chin on Downstar's thin chest. Despite the end creeping close, her fur was as soft as ever.

"Maybe your gift to me will be a soft pelt," Oilstripe muttered. Duskkit giggled and trotted to Oilstripe's side. She placed her paw, half the size of Oilstripe's own, on Downstar's back. To Oilstripe's shock, Duskkit's ghostly paw did not phase through.

"That's a sign that she's close," Duskkit explained softly. She stared up at Oilstripe and asked, "What do you think she'll look like in StarClan? I try to look as old as I can, but I know most cats like looking young."

"I'm sure she'll be like you remember her," Oilstripe sighed.

"It's ready, Mom," Troutpool gently called. She placed a lid back on a small jar of water and put it back on her shelves. The herbs inside the stone bowl floated and congealed in the water.

Troutpool lapped up half of the mixture. Her face curled as she swallowed. Oilstripe groomed Downstar's neck, filling her nose with the scent of lavender. She joined Troutpool as the cream and white cleric stepped back and processed the taste of the mixture. Oilstripe's whiskers curled as she leaned down to the bowl. She tried to imagine it was a bowl of honey. She drank the strengthening slop as quick as she could. She gagged at the powerful taste. Was this what the clerics ate before their half-moon trips? Oilstripe forced herself to drink the rest of the mixture. When she was done, Troutpool placed the bowl back in its spot in the corner and nuzzled Oilstripe's neck.

"We can go if you're ready," Troutpool said. Mother and daughter, living, looked back at mother and daughter, dying and dead. Duskkit's pelt shimmered with stars and anticipation as she stared deep into Downstar's closed eyes. Oilstripe forced her mind to still. Downstar deserved to greet her daughter in private. Oilstripe nodded to Troutpool. The pair walked out of the medicine den and through the dimming camp.

Oilstripe focused on the exit. Troutpool waved off Clanmates as they stood, anticipating an announcement of the end. There were two cats, however, that wouldn't let themselves be ignored. Slushtrail and Tallowheart sat in front of the exit, catching Oilstripe and their older sister before they could leave. Slushtrail adjusted the crown of juniper needles that decorated her head as she hurried in front of Oilstripe.

"Is she gone?" Slushtrail gulped.

"Soon," Oilstripe sighed. "We're going to StarClan's Shrine. Keep Rattlepelt and your mother company while we're out."

"You can count on us, Mom," Tallowheart said, brushing against Oilstripe's pelt. "Good luck." Oilstripe touched noses with her son and youngest daughter. She licked each of their ears, breathed love into their fur, and led Troutpool out of camp.

They were not alone as they journeyed toward the border. As they pushed further and further into the forest, starry figures danced in the red shadows. Oilstripe recognized some of the figures. Ripplefern jumped from root to boulder to hilltop, eagerly racing back and forth. Puddlespeckle's blue eyes watched silently from the crook of a yellow birch. Harvest led Robinkit down a deer path, almost dancing as they went. When the sharp scent of the border hit Oilstripe's nose, most of the figures she saw were cats she couldn't recognize. The whole forest seemed to glow with the presence of a hundred glittering pelts.

"Are you always accompanied like this?" Oilstripe whispered to Troutpool.

"I think this is a special occasion," Troutpool gulped. Her head followed a pair of ghostly apprentices leaping across the branches overhead, daring each other to reach StarClan's Shrine first.

Oilstripe didn't know how to each StarClan's Shrine alone, but StarClan guided her paws in the most literal sense possible. As night overtook dusk, spirits waved her forward, directing her and Troutpool along the WheatClan border until they reached SlugClan. Troutpool's path shifted off the border and along a well-tred stretch of dead grass. The thicker hills and cliffs that marked the harsher, more rugged terrain of SlugClan bloomed around them, giving StarClan spirits more places to look and watch the cleric and deputy on their journey.

When Troutpool was an apprentice, she had eagerly described the cave that housed StarClan's Shrine to Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle the day after her first half-moon meeting. As the cave, emerging from a slowly rising cliff, appeared through the trees, Oilstripe realized her daughter described it perfectly. An unlit fire sat outside the cave. Paint smeared the walls of the cave, depicting daring figures and dramatic shapes. Some of the art was so faded, Oilstripe had to squint, but other areas had fresh paint smearing the rock. SlugClan took their responsibility of maintaining the shrine seriously, it seemed.

The StarClan spirits stopped well before they reached the cave. As Troutpool guided Oilstripe into the thick dark, the deputy couldn't help but look back at her starry companions, wishing they could continue to light the way. But if the stories were true, she would see them again soon enough.

The paintings along the cave wall guided Oilstripe further into the dark, just as the StarClan spirits outside escorted her all the way from camp. Cats ran deeper into the cave while others built the Clans; weaving baskets, hunting, cooking, singing. This was an ode to everything the Clans were, all they stood for, all leading to the end of their lives and the start of their next.

Every kit knew about the stone that sat at the end of the cave. Half of the roof had collapsed over the years, allowing the glow of the night to illuminate the sacred sculpture. A large shape bulged from the farthest wall. While bright paint surrounded this shape, nothing dared touch the symbol itself. It was a large, five-pointed object, a symbol that historians drew in the sand to teach kits about their ancestors. It was a star. Carved by cats or carved by nature, none knew which was true, but did that matter? This was StarClan's Shrine. Their symbol led the living to the dead.

"We sleep beside the star?" Oilstripe whispered, as though afraid to break the divinity of the cave. Troutpool nodded. She settled into a soft loaf on the leather-covered floor. Oilstripe forced her stiff legs to bend and place her body beside Troutpool. Questions burned Oilstripe's throat, but she could not ask them. How could she fall asleep in such a place?

"It's easier than you think," Troutpool said, closing her eyes. "It just takes time. I'll be with you, Mom." Oilstripe copied her daughter and closed her eyes, even though the wind purred along the open roof and Oilstripe's body wanted to run.

Alright, StarClan. What did you truly think of Oilstripe?

[Image ID: Oilstar stands proud and tall with Fennelspot, Mosspounce, Weedfoot, Applepelt, Rustshade, Parsley, Clammask, Locustseeker, and Downstar's ghosts surrounding her. Troutpool and Moonpaw watch from afar. Downstar says, "We hail you by your new name, Oilstar, second leader of RippleClan. You are everything we built this Clan to be. Make it more." Under Oilstar, it says LEVEL UP! OILSTRIPE → OILSTAR, + LIVES: 9.]

Oilstripe's thoughts drifted for a while. Flashes of her Clan danced behind her eyelids. Downstar, dying in her nest. Carnationspeckle, pledging to be Oilstripe's mate as long as she would have her. Rattlepelt, calling her Mom for the first time. Troutpool's birth, then Slushtrail and Tallowheart. In so many ways, Oilstripe had never lost a single friend, while in others, she could never forget them. Perhaps this was why she was given her strange sight, as some supernatural preparation to lead RippleClan. Was Downstar even dead yet?

"Don't worry, Oilstripe. She's here."

Oilstripe startled, rolling onto her side. The cool leather floor of StarClan's Shrine had vanished. Sand mixed into Oilstripe's ginger pelt. A bright, cloud-dappled sky stretched above her, shining with the brilliant glow of the sunrise that burned against the ocean behind Oilstripe. The forest and the steepening cliffs beyond it lined the horizon beyond the ethereal beach. It smelled like every season at once; the warmth of summer, the colors of autumn, the chill of winter, and the growth of spring. It was home, it was RippleClan, but it wasn't. It was RippleClan at its best.

Troutpool stood beside Oilstripe and helped her mother to her paws. A sparkling white molly stood at the edge of the grass and sand, purring. Oilstripe had not seen this figure in many, many moons. Her appearances in the living world dimmed as more and more RippleClan cats quietly watched their descendants. But she had never left them, had she?

"Mom," Troutpool whispered, bowing before the white molly. "This is—"

"Moonpaw," Oilstripe purred. "It's been a long time."

"You've met our StarClan guide?" Troutpool gasped, jumping back up.

"I knew you would be leader some day," Moonpaw laughed, trotting up to the living cats. Stars trailed in her wake. "I don't just mean because I'm RippleClan's guide, either! It just felt right."

"Thank you," Oilstripe sighed, dipping her head. Suddenly, Moonpaw jabbed her nose against Oilstripe's forehead. Her nose was cold, like diving into the ocean.

Oilstripe's life flashed before her eyes. Literally. She saw WheatClan's camp from the eyes of a kit at Sunstrike's side, Rustshade beckoning her close. She saw RippleClan's shipwreck for the first time and spotted the little brown kit waiting within for her mother. She saw Moonpaw for the first time, saving her from an early demise. She saw Troutpool at Carnationspeckle's belly, she saw her Clan grow, she saw Weedfoot's spirit nod in approval, she saw death and battle and birth and love. Her life collapsed into a single moment of unending memories.

Oilstripe's legs buckled as Moonpaw stepped away. Troutpool threw her head under Oilstripe's chin, helping her back to her feet.

"What did you do?" Oilstripe gasped, reminding herself she could still breathe.

"A few things," Moonpaw said with a chuckle. "I'm RippleClan's guide. I have to make sure they have a good leader. Very official." She cleared her throat and stood a bit taller. "I have taken your old life from you, Oilstripe. Your body is no longer breathing. It now has room for nine new lives to guide RippleClan through the seasons to come. I have searched through your life, and I approve of your right to rule." Oilstripe nodded dumbly. She knew this would happen; stories of past leader's ceremonies made up more than a few legends. The process was known, even if the details were kept secret until a leader's final passing. But to actually have that happen…

"What now?" Oilstripe gulped. Moonpaw looked back to the forest.

"Now Troutpool and I settle down and bear witness," Moonpaw purred. Moonpaw bunted Troutpool's shoulder like an old friend. Troutpool stumbled to the side, eyeing Oilstripe as Moonpaw shoved her away. Oilstripe breathed slow as she stared into the trees. Downstar wanted this. StarClan wanted this. It would be alright.

The first life-giver's golden eyes peered from underneath a giant pine. He emerged slowly, eyeing Moonpaw as he stepped into the light. Oilstripe's heart lightened. Even in his afterlife, Fennelspot was a consistent presence in the medicine den, watching the clerics work and standing over patients. It felt not like a long-awaited reunion, but a visit with a good friend.

"Can you believe I thought you were mean as a kit?" Oilstripe laughed as Fennelspot approached. The petals he stuck into his pelt were bright and soft as though they still grew on their stems.

"I had a lot going on," Fennelspot hummed, whiskers twitching in humor. "Now Oilstripe, this will be a lot. You'll feel like you're dying. I won't lie to you. But you can handle it. Trust yourself."

"I do my best," Oilstripe said. Fennelspot touched his pointed muzzle to Oilstripe's forehead.

"With this life," he said, voice echoing with supernatural power, "I give you unity. Unity across the Clans made RippleClan possible. It's your job as leader to foster unity within RippleClan. It can be hard, but the Clan depends on you now."

Oilstripe did not feel very united in that moment as slicing pain ripped through her mind. She could feel herself break apart, her body tearing into large, bleeding chunks. She tumbled away from herself, helplessly reaching out. Yet before she could lose herself, mental twine latched itself to her soul. Stitches pulled her pieces back together. She would not let herself fall apart. Disjointed parts slipped back together, their bonds stronger than ever before.

Oilstripe's legs shook as Fennelspot stepped back. Oilstripe laughed weakly, licking her dry lips. Fennelspot wasn't lying. The dead cleric peered at Oilstripe like he was ready for her to fall over. Oilstripe sat and swallowed vomit that crawled up her throat. Fennelspot still studied Oilstripe like a good cleric should, but he moved to the side for the second life-giver.

This life-giver marched out of the forest like he ruled it all. Oilstripe couldn't help it, she startled at the sight of black and gray fur and earthy green eyes.

"Mosspounce?" she gasped.

"Congratulations, Oilstripe," Mosspounce chirped, sitting with a plop in front of the ginger molly. "I'm really excited to give you your second life."

"I have to be honest," Oilstripe said, chuckling at the shock of it all, "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Think about it," Mosspounce chuckled. "I was born… under not so good circumstances. I mean, my father had me in some strange attempt to connect with your mate. It's disturbing." Mosspounce's tail curled around his front leg. "Still, Carnationspeckle nursed me. And you, you didn't treat me bad. You always treated me like my own cat."

"I tried my best," Oilstripe explained with a lick to her chest. "I can't say it didn't feel strange, but you were a kit. It wouldn't have been right to treat you poorly. You aren't Shadowdrop's mistakes."

"That's why you'll be a good leader," Mosspounce purred. He touched his nose to Oilstripe's forehead and said, "With this life, I give you the gift of adventure. Don't be afraid to reach far and go where the wind takes you. Risks have the best rewards."

Oilstripe was flying. The world bent below her. Trees and mountains and oceans curled in on each other. She hovered in a black void, stars twinkling far, far away. A blue and green ball, sprinkled white, danced before her. There was no limit to what she could do. She never wanted to come down.

Yet come down she did as Mosspounce stepped away. Oilstripe's eyes blurred from the leftover effect. Mosspounce's form rippled like a reflection. Oilstripe rubbed her eyes. It was like clearing out sand and salt. By the time her vision returned, the figure standing in front of her was no longer Mosspounce… but Weedfoot. She had made only a few appearances in camp since her passing; Oilstripe hadn't realized how young her former mentor truly looked in StarClan.

"I am so, so proud of you, Oilstripe!" Weedfoot cheered. She rubbed against Oilstripe. She smelled like dandelions and salt. The smell grounded Oilstripe against the sand of Silverpelt. She licked Weedfoot's neck, purring in return. "James wanted me to tell you not to let the power go to your head."

"What's it like to have Paleshade and James in StarClan together?" Oilstripe asked as Weedfoot moved back.

"Let's just say they keep me busy," Weedfoot hummed. With that, she touched her nose to Oilstripe and declared, "With this life, I give you courage. By StarClan, you'll need it."

Oilstripe was afraid. Her body ached and burned. Darkness intensified the pain. No one was coming. No one would help. It was forbidden. But that wasn't the worst pain. The worst was the cooling body pressed against her own. She could have lived, you foxhearts. She wouldn't cower before them. Even if she died right then and there, Weedfoot would not let AshClan win.

Oilstripe reflexively sobbed when the pain ended and she returned to the present. Troutpool hurried forward, but Moonpaw stepped in front with a soft shake of her head. Weedfoot licked Oilstripe's cheek as she shook. Just that simple touch, both dead and alive, rekindled the newfound strength left within Oilstripe's bones. Her mentor had faced that horror and live. Oilstripe would be honored to carry that courage with her.

Weedfoot joined Fennelspot and Mosspounce, who sat to the side with Troutpool and Moonpaw. Oilstripe peered into the forest. Who would visit her next? She couldn't see any iridescent eyes or sparkling pelts—

Something slammed into Oilstripe's shoulder. Oilstripe fell on her jaw. Sand flew into her nose. A mad cackle clued her into her next life-giver.

"I can touch you, I can touch you," Applepelt sang as their soft paws batted Oilstripe's exposed belly. Fennelspot groaned and Troutpool's eyes went wide. Everyone else just laughed.

"You're bird-brained, Applepelt," Oilstripe laughed, getting back to her paws. She snorted like a horse, blowing out sand.

"Aww, but didn't you miss this?" Applepelt cooed. She thrust her head into Oilstripe's chest. "I mean, I know I talk to you all the time, probably more than I'm supposed to if I'm honest, but isn't it nice to actually do this?" Applepelt suddenly reared up and nibbled Oilstripe's ear. Oilstripe laughed like an apprentice and headbutted Applepelt off.

"You'll get in trouble with Carnationspeckle if she hears about this," Oilstripe giggled.

"Well when I get the chance, I'll flirt with her, too!" Applepelt declared. "You can't stop me."

"The life, Applepelt," Fennelspot snapped. Moonpaw shushed the (ironically) younger StarClan cat.

"I'm getting to it," Applepelt scoffed as Oilstripe tried to dam her giggles. "Alright, alright, time for the serious stuff." Applepelt purred as they touched Oilstripe's forehead. "With this life, I give you confidence! I've always cheered you and Carnationspeckle on, and I've always tried to make you as confident in yourselves and each other as I am. Now you have to be confident!"

If Oilstripe thought the life for adventure was intoxicating, Applepelt's life was something else entirely. Oilstripe's body floated. She was on fire, but the fire did not hurt. She could do anything. She could face an entire enemy Clan. She could feed all of RippleClan. She could, and would, do it all! Everything would be okay, because Oilstripe was the one in control. She was the Clan leader, and she could do it!

The release was not as painful as

Oilstripe expected. Instead, as Applepelt trotted over to the other StarClan cats, Oilstripe felt refreshed. The horror of Fennelspot and Weedfoot's lives seemed distant, echoing against the trees. Oilstripe breathed deeply, throat stinging with salt. She waited for her next visitor, glancing along the beach and through the trees. Her pelt prickled as every moment passed without sight of a new life-giver.

"Rustshade, don't keep her waiting!" Weedfoot yowled into the trees. Oilstripe's heart stopped. Red paws slipped into the light. Rustshade's sharp heather eyes bore into Oilstripe. Oh. So this was what these reunions were meant to feel like.

"Dad," Oilstripe whimpered. Rustshade slowly made his way to his oldest daughter. He looked younger than Oilstripe did. Oilstripe stretched her head forward, shaking. She cried when Rustshade's nose touched her forehead. Oh to be a kit again, the focus of Rustshade's attention.

"With this life, I give you…" Rustshade said, "the gift of breaking the warrior code." What? Oilstripe nearly steppd back to oggle her father, but she feared to break the powerful ritual. Rustshade was considered the Celestial of RippleClan Codekeepers! Oilstripe literally heard cats like Cobaltchaser and Wolfgaze pray to him to pass their assessments! How could he suggest breaking the code in front of his fellow StarClan warriors?

"Do you think you would be leader if we didn't break the code and turn against our old Clans?" Rustshade scoffed. "The right thing isn't always what the code says. It's up to you to recognize that."

Wind buffeted Oilstripe's pelt. She was certain she'd be flung upward, destined for a gruesome landing. Stabbing pain consumed her body. The glare of a hundred righteous faces burned into her. But she burned too, not out of shame, but pride. They could say what they wanted. This was right.

"Don't go!" Oilstripe cried as the connection broke and Rustshade stepped away. She reached for her father's slender tail as he turned, but her claws barely reached his fur. Troutpool's gaze was stuck on her grandfather as he sat beside Fennelspot. Oilstripe's jaw ached. Couldn't Rustshade spare a single comforting word her way?

"Now this is exciting!" A red and gray tortoiseshell trotted toward the beach. The stump that once formed her tail wiggled like an excited apprentice. Unlike the other StarClan cats, who usually looked far younger than they were when they died, Parsley still looked like an elder, with aging gray around her muzzle and thin patches of fur. Oilstripe tried to ignore Rustshade's presence and relaxed at the sight of Parsley. She was around the nursery so much in her afterlife, it was sometimes like she had never passed.

"I am very honored to be giving you a life, Ms. Oilstripe," Parsley chirped. "I hope I can do right by you and Carnation."

"You always did, Parsley," Oilstripe hummed as Parsley touched her forehead.

"With this life, I give you new beginnings," Parsley purred. "That's what RippleClan is all about, and it's what I grew to embody. Give them out whenever you can."

Oilstripe blossomed. Her body grew taller, faster, stronger, shining brighter and brighter with a fire in her belly. The beach was too small to hold her. Her bones snapped under the sudden pressure, yet they rebuilt themselves just as fast. All the while, the sensation of her tail attached to her flank faded, numb and ghost-like. Had Oilstripe not been in extreme pain, she would have laughed.

"Enjoy it, Ms. Oilstripe," Parsley purred. Oilstripe's head spun when the tortoiseshell moved back. Parsley plopped herself in front of her fellow StarClan cats.

Oilstripe barely had a moment to collect herself before the seventh life-giver emerged from the forest. Clammask! She seemed more at ease than Oilstripe could ever recall her being. Her dull golden fur was brighter than ever. She must have been enjoying her time in StarClan, since Oilstripe had only seen her at the vigils of her daughters in recent moons.

"You're almost done, Oilstripe," Clammask promised. Oilstripe had no time to greet her sister before Clammask touched her nose to Oilstripe's forehead. "With this life, I give you strength—strength in mind, heart, and body. I don't think you could ever hope to be a leader without strength."

Heavy waves pounded against Oilstripe. Her paws flew out from under her. She choked on salt and foam. Her eyes burned. She was certain she was about to vomit. Something pushed her up, pushed her to find air, to keep going. She wasn't going out like this. StarClan, was she living through Clammask's final moments? Was this what death felt like?

Oilstripe gagged as the connection broke. She was not about to throw up in front of StarClan itself, especially not her own daughter. Oilstripe swallowed hard as Clammask ran to Rustshade. The pair bunted heads and Clammask settled at her father's paws.

"Oilstripe! Over here!" A cream figure jogged along the beach, racing right at Oilstripe. The ginger molly braced herself to be tackled once more. Yet instead of a violent reunion, Locustseeker simply bunted their head against Oilstripe's side, purring deeply.

"I had to fight Burdockcreek and Twinekit for this spot," Locustseeker laughed. "Hope you don't mind they aren't here. I'm sure they'll visit you later." Oilstripe purred too and licked her lost sibling's head. "Don't be mad at Dad and Clammask, they love it up here. I'm trying to convince them to go see you more."

"Don't get in trouble on my part," Oilstripe hummed as Locustseeker moved in front of her. Even though they died young, they still matched Oilstripe's height, making it easy for them to touch their nose to her forehead.

"With this life, I give you endurance," Locustseeker declared. "Don't give up, Oil. I hope this keeps you going."

Oilstripe's heart beat wildly. Battle yowls pierced her ears. Claws danced through her skin, but Oilstripe returned every blow. Endurance seemed to be the same as strength, but as Oilstripe's body weakened and that strength left her, her endurance remained. It was the force that encouraged her to perform until her body gave way.

Locustseeker's release was like a deep sigh. Oilstripe no longer shook and swallowed bile. Locustseeker joined Clammask and Rustshade, shooting sassy looks to the both of them. Oilstripe heard many stories of leader ceremonies, their details revealed to historians after their passing. She knew how nearly all of them ended. There was only one candidate left to give her her final life.

Downstar emerged triumphantly from the forest. She looked just as she did in Oilstripe's oldest memories. Her soft fur glistened and shined with the newly gained glow of Silverpelt. There was a spark to her amber eyes Oilstripe had never seen before. Cats, both known and unknown, trailed behind her. Duskkit. Shadowdrop. Trumpetspore. Tempestshade. Scrubmask. More and more spirits followed Downstar to the beach, all staring at Oilstripe.

"You look good," Oilstripe said. She was shocked to find a lump in her throat as she spoke.

"I feel better than I have in a very long time," Downstar purred. "Now that I'm here, there's something very important I need to tell you." The lump in Oilstripe's throat grew as Downstar touched her forehead. "I picked a good, good deputy. With this life, I give you leadership in the darkest times. My only hope for you is that you fare better than I did."

The weight and emotion of Oilstripe's eight other lives crashed into her. Battle cries, crashing waves, breaking bones, glaring eyes, intoxication, darkness, flight, falling apart and coming togther again. All of these experiences pulled themselves together in Oilstripe's chest and burned against the shadows of the sunset.

"We hail you by your new name, Oilstar, second leader of RippleClan. You are everything we built this Clan to be. Make it more."

Triumphant yowls filled the land as Oilstar stood before StarClan. The ghosts she so often saw on the horizon now stood proud and alive, bright as the moon. Troutpool joined the cries of the dead, her voice giving way under the strain. Oilstar's new name filled the sky.

"Oilstar! Oilstar! Oilstar!" StarClan cheered.

"Oilstar? Are you Oilstar now?" Dovekit asked.

Wait, Dovekit?

Oilstar woke on the cool leather floor of StarClan's Shrine. Dovekit stared directly into her face, a whisker's length away. He blinked innocently, like he didn't know how wrong this all was.

"Dovekit!" Oilstar snapped, standing on shaking legs. "How are you here?"

"I followed you," Dovekit said as Troutpool stirred behind him.

"All the way from camp?" Oilstar gasped. How in StarClan's name could a kit get out of camp and travel across two territories with no one finding him? "Dovekit, there are dangerous things in the forest, especially at night. An owl could have swooped down and grabbed you!"

"But no one saw me," Dovekit huffed. Troutpool opened her bleary eyes and suddenly startled at the sight of the gray and white kit. Oilstar shook her head, hiding a purr deep in her throat. Now it would be her job to find the chaotic tom a mentor next moon. It would be her job to find mentors for every kit in RippleClan, bestow names on every new warrior. She'd be the one speaking for RippleClan at Gatherings. She'd be the one deciding the fate of her Clanmates.

If she could handle Dovekit in that moment, perhaps she'd handle all of that as well.

(Oilstar: 99, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Downstar: 154, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Troutpool: 56, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Duskkit: 4, female, kit, troublesome, quick witted)

(Slushtrail: 31, female, mediator, wise, clever, talented weaver)

(Tallowheart: 31, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

(Moonpaw: 10, female, mediator apprentice, childish, good hunter)

(Fennelspot: 113, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Mosspounce: 52, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Weedfoot: 122, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Applepelt: 31, she/they, historian, rebellious, lore keeper)

(Rustshade: 102, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Parsley: 156, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)

(Clammask: 82, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Locustseeker: 12, nonbinary (they/them), historian apprentice, troublesome, moss-ball hunter)

Carnationspeckle and Wildclaw grieve Downstar, but Oilstar still appoints Wildclaw as her deputy.

[Image ID: Oilstar faces Wildclaw and Carnationspeckle. Under Wildclaw and Carnationspeckle, it says + CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

(Oilstar: 99, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Wildclaw: 87, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Carnationspeckle: 97, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 98

Even though all Midnightpaw wants to do is sleep, Anchovystrike encourages Midnightpaw to hunt at night. Unfortunately, Anchovystrike encourages Midnightpaw to catch what turns out to be a porcupine, which badly slashes Midnightpaw's left eye.

[Image ID: Anchovystrike and Midnightpaw stalk a bush of red berries, but the back half of a porcupine sticks out of it. Under Midnightpaw, it reads + CONDITION: DAMAGED EYES.]

(Anchovystrike: 33, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Midnightpaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, oblivious, always wandering)

On his first proper day out of the nursery, Beekit bruises himself by hitting the rocks bordering camp. He still has fun, though.

[Image ID: Beekit, who looks just like his dad, trots back to Patchkit and Morningkit, who have grown into full kit sprites and have blue and yellow-green eyes, respectively. Morningkit cheers, "Do it again!" Under Beekit, it reads + NEW SKILL: QUICK TO HELP, + CONDITION: BRUISES. Under Patchkit, it reads + NEW SKILL: INTERESTED IN CLAN HISTORY. Under Morningkit, it reads + NEW SKILL: EYE FOR DETAILS. Billowhaze and Stormjump watch them from the back, with Billowhaze saying, "Your son has a skull made of rock."]

(Beekit: 1, male, kit, noisy, quick to help)

(Patchkit: 1, male, kit, charming, interested in Clan history)

(Morningkit: 1, male kit, bossy, eye for details)

(Billowhaze: 33, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)

(Stormjump: 29, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

While patrolling the horse path, Oilstar and Carnationspeckle see humans throw a sack out of a monster.

[Image ID: Oilstar and Carnationspeckle approach a long-furred lilac cat wit heather blue eyes and a white spot on their chest and tail. The cat stands at the side of a road. They yowl, "Don't expt me to—*cough*—crawl back home to you!" Under them, it reads NEW PLAYER: INDIGO, 38, HALF TOM (HE/THEY), PLAYFUL, INCREDIBLE RUNNER, GREAT TEACHER, + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH.]

---

Harvest Moon always left the five Clans exhausted. Whether that exhaustion stemmed from celebrating from sunrise to the depths of the night, or from warding off the Spirits of Shadow that breached the living world, Harvest Moon sent every cat, young and old, back to their dens asleep on their paws. No one ever wanted to take the first patrol after Harvest Moon. Yet, because of this, it made the perfect opportunity for Oilstar to take her mate on a romantic outing.

Technically, Oilstar and Carnationspeckle were marking the southern border, but the truth of the patrol was obvious to even the youngest kit. In full honesty, they barely made it to the southern reaches of the territory before they both found a quiet spot to enjoy one another.

The two mates curled among the early autumn leaves, bathed in a warm morning glow. The sparce trees of the southern territory stood around them like silent guards, protecting their love. Oilstar dug her face into Carnationspeckle's chest. Carnationspeckle laughed at her mate's sweet touch. She shifted and licked Oilstar's belly. Oilstar wrapped herself further around Carnationspeckle.

"It's been too long since we did this," Oilstar purred, speaking into the soft fluff of Carnationspeckle's flank.

"You're in the leader's den now," Carnationspeckle pointed out. She rested her chin on Oilstar's soft belly. "We can have privacy whenever we want."

"And have our kits and grandkits tease us the whole time?" Oilstar laughed. "No, no. I like finding quiet spots with you. I like stepping away from the Clan for a while. Even StarClan gives us privacy here." Oilstar nuzzled hard under Carnationspeckle's chin, earning another deep laugh.

"Well, if that's how it is," Carnationspeckle hummed. She untangled herself from Oilstar and gazed southward. The pair could see the horse path from where they laid, outlined by the deep marks of the monsters that harrassed horses onwards. "Hmm… no strangers in sight. I think that's a successful patrol."

"You know, we still have to mark it," Oilstar cooed as Carnationspeckle relaxed beside her once more.

"I know," Carnationspeckle whined playfully. "But surely that gives us more private time, doesn't it?"

"Maybe I should have made you deputy," Oilstar hummed. She licked her mate's ear.

"Not the place for me," Carnationspeckle said. She tucked herself further against Oilstar's belly. "This is."

Oilstar rested her chin on Carnationspeckle. She gazed out at the human barns far beyond the territory. Their autumn crops swayed in a gentle breeze. Oilstar wondered if this was what life in StarClan was like; curled up beside those you love, taking in all the beauty the world can offer. If it was, Oilstar would be happy to die some day.

A monster trotted down the horse path from the west. The horse attached to the strange contraption batted at flies with its tail in a shockingly undisturbed manner. Oilstar would have to ask Venturedapple or some other former kittypet what it was like to sit on top of one of those monsters, with its impossibly warped wood and the humans guiding it along. Had any of them been in the den-like monsters with sturdy woven walls?

Oilstar expected the monster and its horse to pass them by, following the horse path as it curved southward down the coast toward places unknown. Yet, to Oilstar's surprise, the monster slowed. The human guiding the monster onward pulled at the ropes holding the horse in place, forcing it to a stop. The human's gangly paw grabbed a leather sack sitting at their side. Something inside the sack squirmed and smacked against the sides, fighting for dear life. The muffled shriek of a cat pulled Carnationspeckle out from under her mate. Both mollies watched as the human threw the sack just off the horse path. The form inside seized and scrambled for the sack's wide mouth.

"There's a cat in there!" Carnationspeckle gasped as the human on the monster grabbed their horse's ropes once more. They flicked the ropes, making the horse cry out. The trapped beast continued its former trot along the path, unaffected by the screeching cat on the path's side.

"Let's hurry," Oilstar huffed, running down the hillside. Carnationspeckle ran alongside her.

As the monster crawled away, a lilac paw plunged out of the leather sack's opening. A wild furred face pulled itself into the sunlight. It was a long-furred lilac tom with a dark leather collar firmly tied around his neck. His blue eyes were watery and his nose was smeared with mucus.

"Cowards!" the tom yowled at the retreating monster. "Don't expect me to—" the tom coughed violently, seizing forward with the intensity of it all. Carnationspeckle flinched back as she and Oilstar got close to the path. The tom choked out through his coughing fit, "—crawl back to you!"

"Oilstar, be careful," Carnationspeckle whispered. "We don't know what he has."

"I have lives to spare," Oilstar assured her mate. As the RippleClan cats drew closer, the kittypet's fury turned toward the collar around his neck. He flung his paws underneath the collar and fell on his side. He pulled at the well-tanned material, getting strands of his own fur caught in his claws. The collar pressed against his throat.

"Stop, stop!" Carnationspeckle yowled. "You'll choke yourself!" The tom pulled his paws back out and gasped for air. Another coughing fit raked his body. He coughed so hard that he threw up on the edge of the path. Oilstar and Carnationspeckle stopped a few tail-lengths away until the tom finally regained his breath.

"You…" the tom gulped, "you might not want to get close. Yellowcough."

"Who are you?" Oilstar asked, putting on her newly discovered leader's voice.

"They named me Indigo," said the kittypet. "I doubt I'll keep that name considering they threw me away!" Indigo hissed at what little could still be seen of the monster, only to cough again.

"Your humans abandon you just because you're sick?" Carnationspeckle gasped.

"A lot of cats are sick right now," Indigo groaned. "I guess they didn't want to catch what I have."

"I'm Oilstar, leader of RippleClan," Oilstar said. "This is my mate, Carnationspeckle. We have clerics who can treat yellowcough. We can offer you food and shelter while you recover."

"RippleClan," Indigo chuckled. He rubbed his soiled face on the grass. "The Witch Hunters told me about you. Some trade agreement, right?"

"Are you a Witch Hunter?" Carnationspeckle gulped. Oilstar could feel Carnationspeckle's hackles rise at the thought of her former kidnappers.

"Just a cat who lived under their rule," Indigo assured her. "They asked me to give them a blanket from my human's house to trade with you once. They could get some tools from you, I think. Hope you put it to good use." A blanket? Oilstar tried to remember some of the strange kittypet words she'd learned in her interactions with the Witch Hunters.

"The human long pelt," Oilstar realized. "Was it the one with the blue and tan stripes? Yes, we still have that! We actually use it to line the floor of our elder's den. Our elders love it. Thank you, Indigo." Oilstar's thanks were interuppted by another coughing fit. "Carnationspeckle, can you hurry back to camp? See if Honeybuzz or Gingerpaw can prepare a nest in the quarantine den for Indigo here. We'll see you there."

"Don't get sick," Carnationspeckle ordered Oilstar, touching noses with her. Carnationspeckle's tail brushed against Oilstar as she stepped away. She ran across the rolling land with the speed of a cat far younger and all the beauty Oilstar adored.

"I won't say no to help," Indigo groaned, stumbling toward Oilstar.

"Lean on me if you need to," Oilstar said. She walked slow beside Indigo, eyeing his bile-stained mouth. This certainly wasn't how she expected to spend a day out with her mate, but she supposed the duties of a leader were never done.

The walk back to camp was ridiculously slow, as Indigo had to stop and cough more than a few times. Oilstar worried he'd collapse before they got to the shipwreck, but luckily the camp came into view soon enough. Indigo stared at the mighty shipwreck, just as so many loners and kittypets before him did when they first graced the camp.

"I've met shipcats before," Indigo muttered, "but I've never been so close to a real ship."

"We had a shipcat living with us for a while," Oilstar hummed. "His name was Washington. He taught us a lot about what this ship might have been like when it sailed the sea." There was a sparkle in Indigo's eyes that fought through his exhaustion. Oilstar's whiskers twitched in mirth as she led the way into camp.

Most of the Clan was still in camp, recovering from the previous night's grand celebration. Yet their attention was still on the entrance, waiting for the newcomer Carnationspeckle had warned them about. Indigo's head bounced from den to den. Strength filled his paws. Yet sadly, Oilstar could not show the kittypet around quite yet. Instead, they looped past the medicine den, toward the dirt place, and into the quarantine den. Inside, Carnationspeckle and Troutpool were fixing a nest. Troutpool's ears perked as her other mother arrived.

"You must be the tomcat my mother told me about," Troutpool purred. "Here, why don't you rest?"

"You're half right," Indigo groaned, eagerly crawling into the mossy nest. "I'm more of a half tom. You know, he and they?"

"We'll remember that," Oilstar said. "Troutpool here is our senior cleric. She and the other clerics will do their best to treat your yellowcough. That way, once you've recovered, you can decide where you go from here. I know you don't want to find your humans."

"What I really want is to get this collar off," Indigo whined, pawing at their neck.

"There's a way to remove it without destroying it, if you want," Carnationspeckle pointed out.

"I want it cut into tiny pieces so I can dance on them," Indigo huffed. "I'm never wearing a collar again."

"I can't stand the feeling of leather." Oilstar almost jumped at Scaleripple's voice. The fluffy cream-colored tom stood silently behind her, watching Indigo.

"Scaleripple, you can meet Indigo in due time," Oilstar sighed. "They're sick and exhausted. Let them rest."

"How can I rest in a place like this?" Indigo groaned, waving at the wooden walls. "This camp is like nothing I've ever seen! And it's all been built by cats! Well, not the ship, but… you know what I mean. I want to know everything about RippleClan."

"I can teach you," Scaleripple said. He walked past Oilstar, either purposefully or forgetfully ignoring her instructions. "I'm a teacher. It's my job."

"That's not a bad idea," Troutpool said. "If we're going to take care of Indigo, he should know a bit about us."

"If they feel strong enough…" Oilstar muttered.

"What's a teacher?" Indigo barely finished their question before another awful coughing fit overtook their lungs. Yellow phelgm stained the leather floor.

"That's definetely yellowcough," Troutpool muttered. "I'm going to get you some mullein immediately, but it will take a bit of time to prepare more medicine for you."

"Scaleripple can keep me company," Indigo coughed. "You don't seem too scared of yellowcough, after all. So, what's a teacher?" Scaleripple sat beside Indigo while Troutpool slipped off to prepare her medicine.

"We teach the Clan how to do things," Scaleripple explained. "We help apprentices with their training and teach warriors new skills. We teach cats about RippleClan. We teach artisans how to hunt and codekeepers how to tan leather. If you want to learn, you can speak with a teacher."

"I want to do that," Indigo gasped, eyes sparkling.

"You do?" Oilstar said. "We don't want to force you into our Clan, Indigo."

"You're not forcing me," Indigo huffed. "My humans threw me out and my friends gave me yellowcough. You actually want to help. Why wouldn't I want to learn about you?"

"If you want to join RippleClan," Carnationspeckle laughed, "we can tell you about the other jobs we have. I'm a caretaker, for example."

"I'm good," Indigo chuckled, coughing through his humor. "Save my life, and I'll be the best teacher you've ever seen."

"We've only had four," Scaleripple said in monotone.

"I like you!" Indigo laughed, batting Scaleripple's shoulder. The cream-colored tom tensed, but did not run away.

Well then. It seemed Harvest Moon had one last surprise for RippleClan.

(Oilstar: 102, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 100, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Indigo: 38, half tom (he/they), teacher, playful, incredible runner, great teacher)

(Troutpool: 59, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Scaleripple: 51, male, teacher, lonesome, unusually strong fighter)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 100, Part 1

During a storm, the ocean waves crash into RippleClan’s camp, threatening to drown many.

[Image ID: Wildclaw and Brightreed stand on a boulder amidst stormy waters, with Wolfgaze on a rock in the background. Wildclaw yowls, "Valleypaw!" to which Brightreed responses, "I'll get him!" Under him, it reads + CONDITION: TORN PELT.]

It's a rite of passage for RippleClan kits to stare up at the great shipwreck that watched over the camp and ask the nearest historian "How did it get here?" After all, even the youngest kits could see the ocean from camp and hear the water at its highest tide, tail-lengths from the westernmost rocks. It never rose high enough to lift a ship all the way from the horizon to the top of the rocks. So how did it happen?

Historians would give some vague guess, some storm that none of them had ever witnessed, but they could never give a definitive answer. It had been there before their parents' parents' parents. No one would ever know what caused RippleClan's ship to wreck itself upon the coast of the Clans.

But that day, as rain pelted RippleClan as hard as claws against skin and saltwater leaked between the western walls, Yarrowclaw could imagine how the ship landed on RippleClan's shore.

RippleClan only realized that the storm had grown worse when Billowhaze loudly complained about his nest being wet, waking up everyone in the warrior's den. Water flowed through minute gaps in the wall in a steady stream, soaking into the leather floor. It ruined the nests near the back of the den, ending just before Yarrowclaw's nest. The brown and white warrior stirred only as surprised orders bounced around the den and cats scrambled out into the bruising rain.

"Asterblaze!" Wildclaw barked, the first out of the den. "Valleypaw! The warrior's den is flooding! We need to dam the holes!" Asterblaze and Valleypaw, who had both been guarding the camp through the night and were soaked through their skin, hurried into camp at the deputy's call.

"The water will ruin the artisan's den," Rattlepelt gulped, hurriedly pulling her fox pelt over. "We need paws to take our supplies to higher ground."

"You can direct the other artisans on that," Wildclaw told her mate with a swift nod. "The tree line should provide some cover for now."

"Valleypaw, loop around camp and find the weak points on that side of the den wall," Asterblaze told his young apprentice. "I'll get some mud, and that should seal them up well enough to get through this rain."

"I'll try," Valleypaw promised as the artisans swarmed past the stunned crowd of soaked warriors, following Rattlepelt's orders to move their pots and baskets.

"Be mindful of the waves!" Asterblaze added before Valleypaw ran out of camp. In an artisan's tale, that sort of statement would have been followed by a violent clap of thunder, but the sky was dark, simply relieving its unbearable load.

Yarrowclaw's fellow warriors squirmed and groaned at the rain, shaking or licking their pelts in vain. Ravenweaver and Mitespark rolled a large pot across the soaked sand while Frostdancer ran basketloads of smaller supplies out to the forest. Yarrowclaw's paws itched. Should she be moving supplies too? Would the rain ruin the fresh-kill? She could—no. No ideas. She had to just listen to what Wildclaw ordered. That was what was best.

"Where are we supposed to sleep?" Billowhaze groaned, ears dragged down with waterweight. "I'm not going back in there tonight."

"We'll figure that out," Wildclaw huffed. "I'm sure we can make room in the other dens."

Yarrowclaw was used to the sound of stormy waves hitting the shore beyond the warrior's den. She knew their foaming, creaking sound well. That sound was a steady backdrop to the night's annoyances. Yet Yarrowclaw's ears bled as a loud creak began to overtake Wildclaw's voice. Yarrowclaw looked toward the foam-stained walls of camp, walls that had never had so much ocean foam smeared on their surfaces as long as Yarrowclaw had been around. Beyond those bramble-topped walls, the ocean stood up.

"SHIT!" Wildclaw shrieked above the rising chaos as the gigantic wave crashed into RippleClan's camp.

Yarrowclaw's paws left the ground. Saltwater surrounded her on all sides. The force of the wave shoved the air out of her chest. Someone's large form smacked into Yarrowclaw's jaw. The pair locked claws into each other, desperate for something, anything, they could hold onto. The wave shoved the confused cats deep into the sand, pressed into the crook of a rock. Yarrowclaw's eyes burned with salt.

When the sting of rain hit Yarrowclaw's nose, the half-drowned warrior gasped violently. Her vision blurred as the cat she had collided with, Venturedapple, stumbled off her. Yarrowclaw coughed out salt and foam. Water formed a pool across the camp. The brambles that lined the eastern wall of camp were now thrown about the clearing, broken by the force of the water. Warriors laid in heaps, smashed against the rocks but still breathing, still groaning and hissing with newfound bruises. Oilstar shoved a fallen plank out from in front of her den and searched for explanation. Wolfgaze had somehow landed perfectly on top of the apprentice's den and looked just as shocked by the sight as Yarrowclaw felt about seeing her.

Some of the smaller rocks of the camp wall had rolled from their resting place. Yarrowclaw nearly exploded when she saw one of the rocks that formed the sides of the nursery had rolled in front of it, but she remembered—Stormjump had that infection. She was in the medicine den, and her kits would be with her or Honeybuzz. The medicine den only had a fallen plank floating in the paw-deep water, they were fine for now. Even though water now flowed over the rocks and deepened the waters within camp, everyone was still in camp. The artisans were by the forest, so…

Wait. No. Valleypaw.

"Valleypaw!" Wildclaw yowled. She had landed belly-up in front of the elder's den, next to a dazed Anchovystrike and an unconscious Leathermask. Despite her wounded Clanmates surrounding her, Wildclaw scrambled up, hissing as she moved. She limped toward the flooding wall and climbed onto the brambleless rocks. She searched the watery beach beyond the wall for signs of black fur and yellow eyes. As she looked, Brightreed crawled out from underneath Wolverineheart and Thundergale; the three had been washed against the eastern walls and laid under the falling water as they collected themselves. A bramble mass clung to Brightreed's body, but he shoved it off despite the blood mixing into the dark stormy waters.

"I'll get him!" Brightreed yowled. He jumped onto the slick rocks and dove into the unseen waters beyond. Wildclaw shook herself out, flinging thick drops about, before following the young warrior down.

Yarrowclaw examined herself. She was cold, yes, and certainly aching and bruised, like everyone else. Yet, unlike Leathermask, she was not unconscious. Unlike Brightreed, she was not bleeding. Unlike Tallowheart, when he stumbled into camp with broken ribs, nothing was broken. Even Venturedapple, who groaned at Yarrowclaw's side, seemed shockingly unharmed. Would he have been so safe if he hadn't been thrown into Yarrowclaw? He practically rode her to… to safety.

"StarClan, no," Yarrowclaw muttered, voice lost in the rain and crashing waves. "Please. I can't be prophesized. Please."

Yarrowclaw had barely listened to Oilstar or the clerics since Estherfern told her about her vision. Whatever it was about, Yarrowclaw couldn't help. She offered a dozen interpretations. If the ship was covered in white flowers, maybe they should be talking to the cat literally named Whiteflower. If it was a ship, maybe it was related to the shipwreck itself and not an individual cat. Anything could be true, except for what Yarrowclaw knew to be true. The feral little voice in her head was already rambling.

You're special. You knew it. You knew it! You're chosen. You're invincible. You're going to survive the storm. No matter what happens today, you can't die. StarClan said so. If ships carry others to shore, and you're the ship, you can save your Clan. No one will die if you're around.

No, no, no! Yarrowclaw couldn't be special, she could not be chosen or invincible for her own sake. The moment she gave into those wild, uncontrollable feelings, she put everyone at risk. And yet the vision… it was almost permission to give in. It was StarClan's way of saying just this once, you can be a little delusional, because in this situation, you aren't.

You get to be a hero, Yarrowclaw.

"Get to the forest!" Yarrowclaw yowled as Icepaw and Pearpaw waded out of the apprentice's den, coughing and shaking. "We need to get out of camp! Just evacuate!"

"Find your kin, everyone!" Oilstar barked as another wave crested over the rocks. The Clan dug their paws into the sand and stood against the salty pressure. Yarrowclaw shut her eyes to block out the sting. She held her breath when the water consumed her head and gasped when it receeded. The water now rippled at her elbows.

The clerics aren't out yet. They're dying. You can keep them alive. No one dies around you. Go.

Yarrowclaw jumped through the water, pushing against the terrified warriors flooding toward the exit. She stumbled, jaw smacking the cold water. As she pushed herself up, she saw Oilstar unite with Carnationspeckle in front of the water-filled artisan's den. The mates touched noses, grateful in each other's safety. Oilstar's eyes met Yarrowclaw, stunned at the only cat not flocking for the exit. She believes you're special too, she's the one who tried to convince you, she knows what you have to do. Yarrowclaw pressed on to the medicine den.

The medicine den was more flooded than Yarrowclaw expected. Water seemed to seep through the sand and the cracks in the shipwreck. The back half of the medicine den had turned into a water-filled cave. Tallowheart lingered at the water's edge, struggling to stand even with Troutpool's help. Gingerspring pounded on Weevilsight's prone belly until she vomited water. The tortoiseshell's signature petals floated out of the den. Midnightpaw cowered against the den wall, the left half of his face wrapped tight in bandages. He shook his head wildly as Honeybuzz and Estherfern cooed for him to move.

"It will get worse if we stay," Honeybuzz snapped. "Midnightpaw, we need to leave now. Just go!"

"I can't!" Midnightpaw whined, hiding his good eye against the ruined shelves of medicine.

"Weevilsight, come on, let's get out of here," Gingerspring gulped as Weevilsight stood, shaking and gagging. "We have to go!"

"Yarrowclaw," Estherfern gasped, the first to notice the newcomer in the chaos and rain. There was more fear in her eyes than Yarrowclaw had seen since Mosspounce carried Foampaw's mangled body into camp. Yet at the sight of Yarrowclaw, Estherfern's blown-out pupils relaxed, ever so slightly. "The vision. Just as your ancestors predicted." Estherfern turned toward Troutpool and Tallowheart, who limped away from the thick waters in the back of the den. "Stay with Yarrowclaw, you two. Nothing will happen if you do."

Yes! Yarrowclaw wouldn't let anyone die at her side. A silly storm couldn't kill her. Nothing could! Yarrowclaw bit her tongue. Blood mixed with saltwater.

"Midnightpaw, your brothers and mothers are just out of camp," Yarrowclaw huffed. "I won't let you get dragged off." Midnightpaw stirred from his blind panic, risking a long look at the brown warrior. Honeybuzz took his chance—he shoved Midnightpaw out of his little corner and into Yarrowclaw, splashing all the way.

"We need to get Indigo," Weevilsight coughed as the group trudged out of the medicine den. "They're in the quarantine den. They're still too weak to move through all this."

"I'll get him, I'll get him," Yarrowclaw huffed. She squinted as the full force of the rain once again burned her eyes. The floodwaters dragged at her fur, trying to keep her still.The camp was empty now, everyone else had evacuated. They knew Yarrowclaw couldn't die. No force of nature could contain her! The longer Yarrowclaw stayed in camp, the easier it was to believe that.

"Wait, look," Tallowheart wheezed, wincing as the effort of talking pressed against his broken ribs. A pale ginger figure slipped around the curve of the shipwreck, keeping a lilac cat on their paws.

"Pearpaw?" Troutpool gasped as Pearpaw helped Indigo shove through the heavy waters. "Why haven't you left camp yet? It isn't safe for an apprentice!"

"It isn't safe for Indigo, either, and no one was helping him!" Pearpaw snapped. She buckled as Indigo fell further into her, continuing to cough. Her shaking legs pressed hard into the unseen sand below and shoved Indigo back up.

"Knew I'd like this place," Indigo chuckled weakly. "Could do without the water, though."

"Wave!" Weevilsight screeched, her dark green eyes fixed on the rushing waters flowing over the rocks. Even though Yarrowclaw could not see or hear another massive wave, she knew Weevilsight's clairvoyance was never wrong. Yarrowclaw shoved Honeybuzz and Midnightpaw toward the western walls.

"Brace!" Yarrowclaw ordered as the creaking sound of another massive wave finally reached her ears.

The clerics and their patients swarmed the rocks, pressing themselves flat against the slick stones. Everyone breathed as deep as they could as the next tidal wave smacked over the entire camp. The ocean shoved Yarrowclaw into the wall as hard as it could. She couldn't move, even with her star-blessed invinciblity. The pressure shoved the air out of Yarrowclaw's chest, but she refused to breathe in water. Her face shoved into Honeybuzz's flank, and Midnightpaw's yowl of panic was suffocated by the onslaught.

When the chaos receeded, the water covered Yarrowclaw's belly. Pearpaw, Indigo, and everyone from the medicine den remained along the western wall, leaning against the rocks, struggling for breath. But they were there. Thanks to Yarrowclaw.

"Swim," Yarrowclaw barked, once more shoving Honeybuzz where she needed him to go. The bandages around Midnightpaw's face came undone from the water weight, revealing half-scarred and snarled red marks crossing over his swollen left eye. He instintively hovered at Pearpaw's side, just far enough to stay out of Indigo's way, but just close enough to keep his good eye on his friend. Tallowheart whimpered in pain, shaking as the water splashed against his bruised chest, but Troutpool and Estherfern helped him on.

The brambles of the camp exit were somehow still in place, forming a tight tunnel with barely enough room to breach the water. Not for them, then. The rest of the brambles that typically lined the rock walls were gone, so that would be the group's way out. Yarrowclaw scaled the smallest of those rocks. Her brittle paws rubbed hard against the rain-slick boulders. Honeybuzz climbed up and over, splashing hard in the open waters beyond camp. One by one, the occupants of the medicine den helped one another over the wall and out of their flooded camp.

The beach was gone. It lurked under the belly-high floodwaters, claimed by the feral ocean. Still, the ocean could not claim everything. RippleClan gathered at the treeline, panting and shivering. They yowled the clerics' names, running back to the water to help their kin to shore.

"Pearpaw!" Icepaw bolted ahead of the adults, charging at his sister. "You were supposed to be behind me!" Icepaw dragged his sister out of the water. Scaleripple slipped behind him and helped Indigo limp into the safe confines of thick, rolling roots.

"Midnightpaw!" When the wounded black apprentice made it to the forest, Rattlepelt wrapped herself around him, shaking harder than anyone else. Further back, Yarrowclaw saw Brightreed nursing his bramble-torn pelt, blood dissolving in the heavy rain. Wildclaw sat hunched in on herself, Whiteflower and Shrewflame on either side. She was wailing.

Yarrowclaw could not see Valleypaw.

"Stormjump!" Honeybuzz yowled as Oilstar and Carnationspeckle met the survivors at the edge of the muddy grass. "Stormjump! Where are my sons?" Oh. Had Yarrowclaw not been in the mindset that she could fight the ocean and win, her stomach might have dropped. She had been focused on getting everyone she saw out, not checking who should have been there in the first place.

"They weren't in the medicine den?" Oilstar gulped, voice strained. Honeybuzz's pupils blew out wide. "Honeybuzz, I saw them, your kits were sleeping with you tonight, you wanted to watch over Stormjump's infection."

"I sent them back!" Honeybuzz shrieked. His cicada wing necklace, still clinging to his neck after all the chaos, whipped against his neck as he spun back toward the camp. "Stormjump felt better! They're in the nursery!"

The nursery… the nursery with a giant rock in front of it… the nursery Yarrowclaw didn't think to check.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Yarrowclaw stand in the rain. Yarrowclaw says, "Treat the injured. I can do it. I can get your family out. I can't die."]

It's fine. You're fine. You're you. You'll get them out. They'll be fine. You'll bring them back. They can't die if you don't let them. Just go back.

No! Yarrowclaw was mortal! She'd probably drown trying to save them! She couldn't get them alone! She could lead a patrol. Yes, that was it. She just needed help. The vision never suggested it was all on Yarrowclaw.

Honeybuzz ran for the water, but Yarrowclaw instinctively stepped in front of him.

"No," she growled. "Treat the injured. I can do it. I can get your family out. I can't die." Her spastic eyes stuck onto the nearest cat. "Carnationspeckle. You're a good swimmer. We have to get them." Yarrowclaw almost wanted Carnationspeckle to reject, to pull rank, to force Yarrowclaw to stay with the rest of the Clan while other cats, cats who knew when their bodies were tired, cats who could give up, took her place. But Carnationspeckle turned to her mate, fear raising her hackles. Oilstar nodded.

"Venturedapple, we need your strength," Carnationspeckle called into the grieving, shocked crowd. Venturedapple emerged tall, eyes hard and ready.

"They're my kits!" Honeybuzz yowled. He tried to skirt around Yarrowclaw, but Splashtuft, Drumtooth, and Leathermask (who had luckily woken up from whatever blow he'd sustained earlier) lunged at their brother. The littermates pulled Honeybuzz into the crowd by his scruff as the gold and white cleric screamed, "They need me!"

"You're barely standing!" Drumtooth snarled, pinning his brother into the muddy grass.

"Your kits don't need their father drowning tonight," Leathermask said. He smacked Honeybuzz's flailing paws down.

"They can't end up like Mom," Honeybuzz whined. His claws pulled up large chunks of grass.

"The others will get them," Splashtuft promised. Of course they would. No one around Yarrowclaw would die. Whether StarClan simply knew it to be true for the night or whether they blessed her, Yarrowclaw was the ship that could bring them back to shore.

Yarrowclaw left Honeybuzz pinned by his brothers and charged back into the water with Carnationspeckle and Venturedapple behind her. Water now flowed steadily over the tops of the rock wall. Carnationspeckle leaped over the camp walls and dove into the submerged clearing. Water flew up Yarrowclaw's nose as she followed. The rock she had seen earlier, rolled in front of the nursery by the impact of the first massive wave, still sat, trapping its occupants within.

"Stormjump!" Venturedapple called, floating into the barricading rock. "Kits! Can you hear us!"

"Venturedapple!" It was Morningkit! His voice slipped through the rain-filled cracks of the blockage. "Help!"

"Everyone on this side," Carnationspeckle barked, swimming around the den. Yarrowclaw waded after her. "Venturedapple, Yarrowclaw, you need to push this boulder as hard as you can. I'm going to dive and dig out the sand around the rock, make it easier to move. Now push!" Venturedapple positioned himself next to Yarrowclaw. His long fur floated in the churning water. Carnationspeckle breathed deep and shoved her head under. Yarrowclaw braced her front paws on the rock. Venturedapple copied her. Hind legs digging into the sand, shaking under the pressure of the moving floodwaters, they pushed.

Don't think about Carnationspeckle. She doesn't matter. She doesn't even need to dig. You don't need any of them to save the kits. You can move this boulder all by yourself. StarClan chose you for this. Your legs don't hurt. You can't feel pain. You don't get tired. This isn't a bad thing. This is the best thing that could happen. Push the rock. Save those kits.

"Be kind to yourself, Yarrowclaw."

Yarrowclaw yowled as the boulder finally, finally, rolled a mouse-length back. Yarrowclaw couldn't see inside. Carnationspeckle pulled her head out of the water, sand caught in her fur. Yarrowclaw's legs gave out as Carnationspeckle and Venturedapple hooked their paws through the opening. With one last shove, the rock tumbled out from the entrance of the nursery.

The nursery was almost flooded to the ceiling. The deep, safe confines that Yarrowclaw spent her earliest days were hidden in the flood. A dark ginger form floated by the ceiling like debris far at sea. Three tom-kits clung to Stormjump's back. Their claws drew blood from their beloved mother, but she kept their small heads above the rising water. Stormjump's face was… peaceful.

Yarrowclaw grabbed Beekit by the scruff. He looked eerily like his father; same golden head and tail, same blue eyes, same white torso. It made the night loop in Yarrowclaw's head as Carnationspeckle pulled Patchkit and Morningkit close. Venturedapple grabbed Stormjump's still scruff and pulled her body out of the nursery.

"Mom told us to hold on to her," Patchkit stammered. "We held on, but, but we hurt her!" Carnationspeckle lifted Patchkit onto Venturedapple's sturdy back. Morningkit climbed on top of Carnationspeckle

"Where's Dad?" Beekit cried, squirming in Yarrowclaw's chattering jaws.

"We're bringing you to him," Carnationspeckle promised, voice breaking. "Just stay on us. You did so well. Stormjump is so proud of you." With the kits balanced as high above the water as they could carry them, the three brown and white cats waded toward the watery rocks and the forest beyond.

This didn't make sense. No one around Yarrowclaw was supposed to die. Why wasn't Stormjump moving? This wasn't what the vision said!

A ship could still bring a body to shore, it seemed.

(Yarrowclaw: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)

(Wildclaw: 92, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Rattlepelt: 83, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Asterblaze: 47, male, caretaker, thoughtful, inventor and innovator)

(Valleypaw: 9, male, caretaker apprentice, strict, avid play-fighter)

(Billowhaze: 35, male, historian, loyal, good kit-sitter

(Brightreed: 32, male, warrior, righteous, student of art)

(Oilstar: 104, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Honeybuzz: 48, male, cleric, daring, sklled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Midnightpaw: 9, male, warrior apprentice, oblivious, always wandering)

(Gingerspring: 16, male, cleric, charismatic, human expert, good hunter)

(Estherfern: 134, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Weevilsight: 35, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Tallowheart: 36, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

(Troutpool: 61, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Pearpaw: 10, female, historian apprentice, righteous, moss-ball hunter, lover of stories)

(Indigo: 40, half tom (he/they), teacher, playful, incredible runner, great teacher)

(Icepaw: 10, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Carnationspeckle: 102, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Drumtooth: 48, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Leathermask: 48, male, warrior, confident, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

(Splashtuft: 48, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)

(Venturedapple: 88, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

(Morningkit: 3, male kit, bossy, eye for details)

(Patchkit: 3, male, kit, charming, interested in Clan history)

(Beekit: 3, male, kit, noisy, quick to help)

(Stormjump: 31, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 90, Part 1

Estherfern drips an infection-fighting concoction into Mosspounce’s eyes, not paying attention to his protests. She needs to stop the infection before it gets any worse.

[Image ID: Estherfern and Honeybuzz stand around Mosspounce, treating him while Washington watches in the back. Under Mosspounce, it says + INFECTION. Under Honeybuzz, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

"Shouldn't you be doing some sort of ritual?" Mosspounce groaned as Estherfern shoved his chin up. His bloody eyes stared at nothing, yellow pus pooling around his torn eyelids. Pale white light drifted inside the medicine den, bouncing off the paw-deep snow covering camp.

"Like what, contact StarClan for medical advice?" Estherfern muttered, removing the leather lid from an empty bottle. "Apparently StarClan only has the energy for one proper channeling a year, and we spent that on Currentsmoke's jaw. We're doing everything we know we can, Mosspounce." Estherfern grabbed the bottle in her jaws and lowered it into the warm pot beside her. A freshly brewed concoction sat within the pot, packed full of infection-killing herbs. Estherfern dipped the bottle into the concoction, accidentally getting some on her lips. She tilted her head to the side to keep the botte face-up. Then she slowly brought it over Mosspounce's face and poured a splash of the concoction onto his eyes.

Mosspounce hissed, flinching back, but Honeybuzz was there to help. He stood behind Mosspounce and gently shoved the injured caretaker back into place, allowing Estherfern to set the bottle down and massage the concoction in. Mosspounce's claws poked his nest.

"Your body is killing itself in an effort to kill this infection," Estherfern huffed. "This will give your body an ally in that fight. So stay still!" Estherfern removed her paws from Mosspounce's eyes and rubbed them clean on the medicine den's leather floor. Mosspounce groaned as Honeybuzz grabbed fresh bandages and wrapped them around Mosspounce's face.

"Will he be alright?" Estherfern hid her surprise well as she faced the cat resting a few tail-lengths away, a splint and bandages wrapped around his back leg. Estherfern had truthfully forgotten Washington was there. The old tom (and she truly meant old, she had never met a cat who claimed to live over two hundred moons before) watched Mosspounce carefully, gaze sharp and twitching as though he were the one with a concoction burning into his eyes.

Washington had not said much in the quarter moon since his arrival to RippleClan, clearly mourning those he lost in the shipwreck offshore. Remnants of that ship now reinforced part of the medicine den's walls. There had been so much wood, in fact, that the caretakers were able to take apart a decaying portion of the medicine den's back wall and build it into the hollows of the main shipwreck, allowing more room for herbal preparation, rituals, and sleeping patients. Washington now slept in the remains of his former home, silently watching his new home swirl about.

"We're doing what we can," Honeybuzz promised, releasing Mosspounce. "Do you need something, Washington?"

"No, no, I'm comfortable," Washington muttered.

"I'm not," Mosspounce groaned, curling into a ball. "Can I have something for my pain?" His whiskers twitched as his face squirmed, biting back a mrow of frustration.

"Can you fight through for a bit longer?" Honeybuzz asked. "Troutpool and Weevilsight should be back with more willow bark soon."

"You know what would shut him up and keep him warm?" Estherfern muttered, rubbing her paws clean on the snow outside. "A smoke-den."

"You know we don't do that, Estherfern," Honeybuzz sighed. Estherfern could feel his disapproving stare against the back of her head.

"Forgive the interupption," Washington croaked in the back, "but if a smoke-den, as you called it, could help this kit with his pain, why not try it?"

"Kit?" Mosspounce groaned. "I'm a father!"

"Smoke-dens are a tradition in SlugClan, one of the other Clans," Honeybuzz explained, joining Washington's side. "They burn herbs like catmint and valerian to enter an overly relaxed, trance-like state. Downstar always saw it as a waste of herbs, so we don't use smoke-dens in RippleClan."

"You might not understand it," Washington sighed, "but back on my ship, my humans would sit around with sticks in their mouths, blowing smoke at one another. They were at their calmest when they did that. Not a pleasant smell, no, but it's a wonderful feeling to be sitting on a human's lap as they relax, listening to their purr." Honeybuzz squirmed at Washington's description, yet somewhere in Estherfern's memories, she could remember a human's paw stroking her back, soothing her into quiet dreams.

"What is it like to be on a ship?" Mosspounce asked, slightly lifting his head from his ball of shame. "What are they like when they're floating?"

"Well, not everyone likes the way the ground shifts under your paws," Washington mused, "but I'm a ship-cat, through and through. I love it."

"Tell me more," Mosspounce begged. He shifted toward Washington's scent.

"Estherfern." Outside the den, Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn stood in the snow, pelts dull in the shiny light. The weight of Waspdawn's infection was evident in the way his footing seemed unsteady on flat ground, yet he matched his sister's blank, focused expression.

"Are you going to rest now, Waspdawn?" Estherfern muttered. Behind her, Honeybuzz helped Mosspounce over to Washington's nest. It could have been the snow-light's reflection, but Estherfern swore Washington had a sparkle in his eyes as he dove into stories of massive ships coursing across the sea.

"Do you have the fur samples we collected from Potterypool?" Puddlewhisper asked.

"Troutpool's kept them safe," Estherfern promised. She crossed over to Troutpool's nest, covered in plush leather expertly tanned by Rattlepelt. Estherfern shuffled through the thick layers of the nest until she found a small vial. She grabbed a scrap of leather the clerics used to wipe medicine from their paws and lips. She placed the scrap in front of Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn, opened the vial, and carefully poured out the contents. Strands of dark fur fluttered out.

Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn nodded to each other in some secret littermate language. Puddlewhisper jogged off to the bonfire in the center of camp, which projected warmth into all the dens. She grabbed a dry stick beside the fire. She carefully tilted the stick into the flames. The fire licked the tip of the stick and climbed on. Puddlewhisper hurried back to the medicine den, head tilted hard to the right to keep the tip of the torch aloft. She plunged the torch into the snow and sand a safe distance from the wooden shipwreck. Waspdawn tugged the leather scrap closer to the light. Honeybuzz stood beside Estherfern, focused more on the dangerously close torch than the codekeepers' work.

Puddlewhisper carefully pawed at a few strands of fur. With the firelight, even Estherfern could better make out each strand's details. The fur at Puddlewhisper's paw was black, perhaps dark gray, and fairly short. Yet there were other strands beside Waspdawn that were long and the color of dark leather. They all looked the same without such clear light illuminating through every hair.

"You were right, Puddlewhisper," Waspdawn muttered. "These samples don't come from the same cat." Estherfern's shoulders tensed.

"What does that mean?" Honeybuzz asked softly. Puddlewhisper pulled the torch out of the ground and submerged it into the snow, quickly dousing the flame. Smoke drifted from the suddenly melted slush.

"It's not wise to make assumptions," Puddlewhisper sighed, "but we pulled these samples from Potterypool's claws and wounds. We can't determine the context, but we can say that Potterypool fought with more than one cat the day she died. We may be looking for two killers."

(Mosspounce: 51, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Estherfern: 124, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Honeybuzz: 38, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Washington: 218, male, elder, nervous, good mediator)

(Puddlewhisper: 56, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Waspdawn: 56, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

Gingerpaw asks to be apprenticed to Estherfern, while Frostpaw becomes Rabbitjoy’s newest artisan apprentice. Honeybuzz gives Gingerpaw a maple seed necklace.

[Image ID: Gingerpaw and Frostpaw are now both apprentices, though Gingerpaw has a maple seed tucked by his ear. Under Gingerpaw, it reads LEVEL UP! GINGERKIT → GINGERPAW, CHARMING → CHILDISH, + NEW SKILL: MOSS-BALL HUNTER, + ACCESSORY: MAPLE SEED. Under Frostpaw, it says LEVEL UP! FROSTKIT → FROSTPAW, QUIET → STRICT.]

(Gingerpaw: 6, male, cleric apprentice, childish, curious about humans, moss-ball hunter)

(Frostpaw: 6, female, artisan apprentice, strict, lover of stories)

Puddlewhisper is determined to solve her little sister’s murder.

[Image ID: Puddlewhisper, Vervaincough, and Venturedapple watch a brown rosette molly with blue eyes run off with a brown speckled kit. Puddlewhisper yowls "Hold on!" Under the kit, it says NEW PLAYER: QUICK, 0, FEMALE, KNOW-IT-ALL. Under the brown molly, it says NEW PLAYER: NIMBLE, 45, FEMALE, RIGHTEOUS, GOOD SWIMMER.]

---

Everything was bitter. The last three days had been so bitterly cold that even Scaleripple and Venturedapple, with two of the thickest pelts in the Clan, couldn't stay out of camp for long. The mice and squirrels had been eating something, something that made Puddlewhisper's mouth curl no matter how well the caretakers cooked the meat. And that was without mentioning the way Puddlewhisper's teeth ached to dig into guilty flesh. The bitterness had reached her heart, pushing her into the snow.

Another look around. Another try. For Lightningrunner.

Puddlewhisper stalked through the snow. She placed her paws in the prints left by previous patrols, reducing the sound of crunching snow to a mutter. Her ears turned with every creaking branch or scuttering leaf. Her tail waved back and forth, a reflection of her rising frustration. She kept at a slow pace, though, sniffing at the base of a fir.

She could see Battle Beach through the trees, although the sand had been consumed by snow, blurring the border between the forest and the shoreline. The fur on the back of Puddlewhisper's neck itched. Phantom fangs pierced her spine. It was so bad that she had to stop and scratch her neck, sending a few tufts of winter fluff floating into the snow.

"We've been here half the morning, Puddlewhisper," a voice groaned from the trees. "I don't think anyone's going to show up." Two pairs of gray eyes peered at Puddlewhisper from the snow-heavy needles of a black spruce. Vervaincough and Venturedapple leaped out of the tree and landed gracefully beside Puddlewhisper.

"Stars damn it," Puddlewhisper hissed, settling her itchy body. "I was certain someone would stop me from 'confirming my theory'. I suppose it wasn't likely to succeed."

"Because they know you're smarter than to talk about 'almost solving the murders' in the middle of camp," Venturedapple muttered.

"It was worth a try, Venturedapple," Vervaincough snapped, her tail smacking against Venturedapple's half-furred tail. Venturedapple dipped his head to the mourning molly.

"You can go back to camp if you want, Venturedapple," Puddlewhisper sighed. "I'm going to look around more. Maybe I can figure out how Lightningrunner's killer managed to get away from the rest of the patrol so easily…" Puddlewhisper studied the layout of the trees, looking for an easy hiding spot.

"I'm staying too, then," Vervaincough huffed, standing next to Puddlewhisper. "There has to be something I can tell my family when I get back."

"It wouldn't be right to leave you two alone," Venturedapple sighed, shaking his head. "We're too close to the river."

"Do you and Lemmy still think a Witch Hunter killed them?" Puddlewhisper asked. "There's no way a Witch Hunter could have killed Lightningrunner and returned to the human settlement without leaving some type of trail."

"Actually, no," Venturedapple said simply, sitting at the base of the spruce. "The cats who follow Pearl wouldn't have a reason to do this. However, there were some cats who were loyal to Achilles when he and Pearl fought for the title of Witch Hunter General. Perhaps the killer is one of the minority who still view the Clans as witches to be exterminated."

"I can see why you left them," Vervaincough huffed, fluffing her pelt against a bitter breeze whistling through the trees. "I wouldn't want to live in RippleClan if a power struggle like that happened."

"I won't reject the possibility that an outsider killed Potterypool," Puddlewhisper admitted, "but Lightningrunner? No, I'm sorry. It had to be a RippleClan cat. There's no other way they could have escaped." Somewhere behind Puddlewhisper, a heavy weight crunched into the snow. A pawstep. Puddlewhisper's ears swiveled. There it was again. This time Vervaincough and Venturedapple heard it. They both stood tall, ears turned the same way as Puddlewhisper.

Puddlewhisper put her tail to her mouth, silencing the patrol. Crunch. Another pawstep. The three codekeepers dropped. Puddlewhisper in the lead, they followed the sound further into the trees. Crunch.

There! A figure to match the sound. For a moment, Puddlewhisper thought it was Rapidleaf, what with the dark brown fur and blue eyes. But no, this was not Rapidleaf; this molly was younger, nimbler, with rosettes sprinkling her pelt. The stranger reeked of milk and afterbirth; a queen? A recently kitted queen, as well. Despite her thin body, her belly swelled with milk and had yet to fully shrink from pregnancy. She stalked a squirrel digging at the snow, searching for its autumn nuts.

"Halt!" Puddlewhisper called, standing up. The queen jumped, back arching violently. She hissed, showing off her yellow teeth. The squirrel scrambled up a spruce. The queen darted past her lost catch, slamming into the snow with each frantic step.

"Stop!" Vervaincough yowled. She tumbled past a dead bush and sprinted after the queen.

"Vervaincough, pull back!" Puddlewhisper ordered.

"She's getting away!" Vervaincough snapped, skitting through the snow. Her wild gaze bounced between Puddlewhisper and the disappearing queen.

"She's got the strongest scent trail I've ever smelled," Puddlewhisper huffed, nose curling at the intensity of it. "Don't waste your energy running. With her scent and her pawprints, we won't lose her." Puddlewhisper once again led Vervaincough and Venturedapple on, but this time she kept at a light jog, letting her nose do the work. Venturedapple, obediant as ever, walked alongside the gray molly.

"What are you thinking?" Venturedapple asked, trying to look through Puddlewhisper's eyes.

"I think if she's as new a queen as she smells," Puddlewhisper explained, "she's made her nest not far from here. If that's the case, she might have seen something that could help us." Were it better days, Puddlewhisper would have suggested inviting the stranger to RippleClan, provide her a safe place to nurse her kits. But the thought lingered only for a moment before memories of dead, red fur replaced it and Puddlewhisper's heart hardened.

The queen's panicked trail headed towards the Great Northern River, as Puddlewhisper suspected. The stranger's pawprints reappeared on the other side of the stepping stones. Ice glistened across the surface of the stones where they peeked above the freezing current. Puddlewhisper stopped and licked warmth into her paws. Vervaincough pushed ahead, hopping onto the first slippery stone. She jumped from stone to stone, allowing the momentum of her landing to propel her to the next. She landed on the opposite bank with nary a stumble.

Puddlewhisper crossed next. She took her time in her crossing, merely stepping from stone to stone. Her claws poked at the ice. Even though she warmed her paws, it was hard to feel the pads when chilling mist sprayed up from below.

Her back paw slipped at the edge of a stone. Her hind legs fell into the river. The water was shallow and couldn't pull her away, but a paralyzing cold whipped up her spine. Puddlewhisper's legs shook as she tried to stand.

Suddenly, gentle fangs grabbed Puddlewhisper's scruff. Venturedapple stood behind her, his long fur dragging in the current. He shoved Puddlewhisper onto the stepping stone and nudged her back to her paws. Puddlewhisper shivered violently, but nodded deeply. Venturedapple merely dipped his head and crossed past Puddlewhisper, unphased by the cold water and ignoring the stepping stones.

Snow stuck to Puddlewhisper's wet flank when she and Venturedapple made it over to Vervaincough. Puddlewhisper shook out her pelt, spraying Vervaincough. Luckily the queen's trail was still clear and stinking. Puddlewhisper and Vervaincough hurried alongside the queen's pawprints, too focused on their mission to worry about Puddlewhisper's health.

They slowed and crouched as the queen and her nest came into view. Dead grass and orange needles curled around the queen and her three newborn kits. The queen gently groomed a brown kit whose pelt made it clear they would look just like their mother in time. Two other kits mewed and whined for milk; a silver spotted kit and a pale ginger kitten with a nose so pink and pale that it blended into the rest of their fur. They looked healthy from what Puddlewhisper could tell. She, Vervaincough, and Venturedapple lurked under the low-hanging branches of yet another black spruce. The queen purred and panted, glancing behind her.

"Let's try not to scare her again," Puddlewhisper advised her companions. "We can't chase her all day."

"I recognize her," Venturedapple whispered. "Her name is Nimble. She used to live in the human settlement. She left with Achilles. He was her mate." Achilles… he had long brown fur. Could he be the cat Potterypool encountered in the moments before her death?

"Isn't Achilles really old for her?" Vervaincough groaned, sneering at the thought.

"Not every cat has the same concern about age as the Clans seem to," Venturedapple muttered, shaking his head. Yet as he did so, he knocked into a snow-burdened branch. A clump of snow fell from the tree with a loud thud.

The queen, Nimble, ripped herself from her litter's affections. She stood between her kits and the codekeepers like a crumbling wall, unable to stop shaking. Despite the light bouncing off the snow, Nimble's pupils were wide, utterly terrified. Puddlewhisper groaned in her mind.

"We aren't here to hurt you," Puddlewhisper promised, crawling out from under the tree. "We just want to ask you some questions."

"No," Nimble hissed. "No, you're lying. You're here to kill me."

"We don't want that," Vervaincough said as she and Venturedapple joined Puddlewhisper. "Did you see a red molly out here last moon?" That was the wrong thing to say, as Nimble unseathed her claws.

"She did it!" Nimble yowled. "I saw the two of them. They killed my mate, they didn't care! They sent you here to silence me!" Nimble's fear scent overwhelmed her milk-scent. Her kits whined, unfamiliar with the nose-curling stench.

"Tell us what happened," Venturedapple snapped, the tip of his fangs peeking out into the harsh light. Nimble spun and shoved her face into the nest. She emerged with her brown and silver kits dangling in her mouth. The pale ginger kit cried, tiny paws flailing for their missing littermates. Yet Nimble, ears low and tail tucked, simply ran. She stumbled over an exposed root, the exhaustion of kitting slowing her down. As she dove over the root, the silver kit slipped from her jaws. The kitten's tiny head smacked into the buldging root. They landed in the crunchy snow and wailed louder than Puddlewhisper thought a newborn ever could.

"Hold on!" Puddlewhisper cried, but Nimble wouldn't stop. She weaved through the trees, whimpering until her abandoned kit's screams drowned her out. Puddlewhisper's memories flung her back, back to that night when she woke up to screeching and screaming echoing from the nursery, unsure if her nieces, her nephews, her sisters and mother, if any of them were alright. That night, even as Downstar explained the horrors of the Dark Forest that caused such a disaster, all Puddlewhisper could think was, I'll never let a kit scream like that, ever again. They'll never hurt like that as long as I draw breath.

Puddlewhisper flew over the exposed root and cradled her paws around the silver newborn. There was no blood, thank StarClan, but the kit, a tom, still wailed and screamed, his nose-sized paws digging at the sky. Puddlewhisper pulled the kitten close to her chest, forcing herself to purr. She groomed the tom's tiny head. The tom began to soothe himself, rooting into Puddlewhisper's fur with painful whimpers. As he quieted, the pitiful mews of his other abandoned sibling became the loudest thing in the forest.

"One of you check on that kit already!" Puddlewhisper snapped at Vervaincough and Venturedapple, who stared dumbfounded at the silver kitten. Venturedapple, at least, pulled himself out of the stupor and obeyed Puddlewhisper's order. He crawled into the nest and nosed the pale ginger kit.

"It's a molly," Venturedapple explained. "She seems healthy. Just upset."

"She left them," Vervaincough muttered, staring at Nimble's trail. "She left her kits behind. They, they could die without her!"

"That's why we're taking them back to camp, right now," Puddlewhisper hissed, lifting the silver kit back over the exposed root.

"What about Nimble?" Venturedapple asked.

"She'll never tell us what we need to know if she thinks we're out to kill her," Puddlewhisper growled. "We'll find her eventually. The clerics need to see this kit. We're going home, right now. Grab his sister and follow me."

For the first time in an entire moon, Puddlewhisper didn't think about her sister's murder. She could only think of the two newborns beside her, whining for their mother.

[Image ID: Puddlewhisper stands with a silver speckled kit and a pale ginger tabby kit. Puddlewhisper says "What kind of mother is she if she only saved one kit? Someone should put these two first." Under the silver kit, it says NEW PLAYER: ICEKIT, 0, MALE, UNRULY. Under the pale ginger kit, it says NEW PLAYER: PEARKIT, 0, FEMALE, QUIET.]

With no nursing queens to feed the two newcomers, Carnationspeckle quickly set to work brewing kitten soup while Currentsmoke built a nest in the nursery. Vervaincough and Venturedapple met with Waspdawn, Oilstripe, and Downstar in the leader's den while Puddlewhisper stayed with the silver and pale ginger kits, warming them by the bonfire. Troutpool carefully examined the silver tom's head while Puddlewhisper made sure his sister didn't crawl into the fire.

"I don't see any signs of injury," Troutpool muttered, "and he seems to be doing well. I can monitor him, but I don't think he's hurt. Just a little knock on the head, I believe." Troutpool licked the tom's head, chuckling. Shrewflame and Whitepaw hovered over Puddlewhisper, trying to get a good view of the newborns.

"They're adorable," Whitepaw gasped, eyes sparkling. "Do they need anything?"

"Some space," Puddlewhisper huffed, batting at the two brothers. "Don't you have chores to attend to?"

"Well forgive our curiosity," Shrewflame grumbled, guiding Whitepaw back. The rest of the Clan were able to contain themselves and give Puddlewhisper room to breathe. If they weren't discussing the day's events, they were trying to listen to Downstar's meeting (only for Cobaltchaser, guarding the den, to remind them it was private).

"Once Currentsmoke's done in the nursery, we can move them in," Troutpool sighed. She sat beside Puddlewhisper and warmed her whiskers. Puddlewhisper pulled the kits close to her. They sensed her warmth and turned their noses into her pelt.

"You seem like a natural," Troutpool hummed. Puddlewhisper's ears dipped. She stared at the fire, forcing her pelt to stay smooth. Troutpool tucked in her tail and quickly added, "I'm sorry, I didn't think that through. They just seem to like you, that's what I mean." Puddlewhisper stared at the kits. The silver tom looked like he could be Puddlewhisper's son. The molly looked more like Waspdawn's kit, a thought that brought out a purr. It did seem natural, didn't it? But Puddlewhisper's tail flicked against the ground, a clear sign of her thoughts.

"Can I admit something to you?" Puddlewhisper asked softly.

"A cleric never reveals what her Clanmate says in confidence," Troutpool promised, sitting taller. Puddlewhisper curled her tail over the kits.

"I hated Elmsprout for having kits," Puddlewhisper muttered. She waited for backlash, for a horrified gasp, but Troutpool stayed quiet. "Gingerpaw and Frostpaw are going to be wonderful cats, and Lavendertwist adores being a father. But when I saw Elmsprout nursing her litter, I hated her for it. I wanted to be nursing kits in the nursery. All the mothers in this Clan seem so happy to be in the nursery, and I would give up anything to be one of them. But if I had children by blood, I could only stand to the side while another molly gave birth to them. I wouldn't really be their mother."

"Yes you would," Troutpool insisted, putting her tail on Puddlewhisper's back. "They would call you their mother."

"Yes," Puddlewhisper groaned, "but didn't Oilstripe feel awkward with you, knowing you and her shared no blood? It's a similar feeling." Troutpool's ears tilted back slightly. "I can't be the mother I want to be."

"I'm sorry I can't change that," Troutpool sighed. "If it helps, though, I think your concern would make you a great mother, in whatever way that happens." Troutpool gently nudged the silver kit, but the newborn was too absorbed in the warmth of Puddlewhisper's belly fur. "Are you going to try Nimble and return her kits?"

"She put her fear over her kits," Puddlewhisper snapped. "She left these two to die. What kind of mother is she if she only saved one kit? Someone should put these two first."

"What if Downstar orders you to give them back?" Troutpool asked softly.

"She won't," Puddlewhisper said. The tension in her voice disturbed the nestled kits. She quickly licked each of their little bodies and settled their hearts.

"Then I can't think of anyone better to raise them," Troutpool purred. "I think StarClan approves. Your… Ripplefern's spirit is watching. She looks happy." Puddlewhisper's pelt tingled. She stared at an empty spot in camp. She saw no ghostly shapes, but some deep instinct told her that her sister was right there, keeping watch, just as Troutpool described.

"We don't know exactly when they were born," Puddlewhisper hummed, studying the kits… her kits. "I don't think it would be wrong to give them names now."

"Can I help?" Troutpool asked, ears perking up.

"You can help with the molly," Puddlewhisper said, "but I have the perfect name for the tom. Icekit." Just like the ice she encountered on her way to meet him.

"Cute!" Troutpool said. "The molly's so round and plump, she deserves a round name. Maybe a fruit, or a seed, maybe even a mushroom! There are a lot that match her color. Hen-of-the-woods, porcini mushrooms, maple flowers, pears, maybe a squash, like the sort WheatClan steals—"

"Wait," Puddlewhisper said, raising her tail for the cleric to pause. "What's a pear?"

"Oh, they grow them in the human settlement!" Troutpool explained. "Lemmy told me about them. They grow on trees and they're shaped like rattles. The humans love to eat them." Hmm, pears…

"I like Pearkit," Puddlewhisper decided. She stuck her face between her son and daughter and nuzzled them both.

Yes. In the midst of chaos, this felt more natural than anything.

(Puddlewhisper: 56, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Venturedapple: 78, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

(Vervaincough: 25, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

(Nimble: 45, female, loner, righteous, good swimmer)

(Quick: 0, female, kit, know-it-all)

(Icekit: 0, male, kit, unruly)

(Pearkit: 0, female, kit, quiet)

(Troutpool: 51, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Whitepaw: 7, male, historian apprentice, nervous, active imagination)

(Shrewflame: 14, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 101

Icepaw and Pearbranch learn that Nimblestep has died. They are unsure how to feel.

[Image ID: Troutpool speaks with Icepaw and Pearbranch. Under her, it says + NEW SKILL: GOOD CLIMBER.]

"Caretakers and warriors can be called upon to sit guard over cats who could prove a danger to themselves or others," Icepaw explained, digging into his memories. "If someone is in the medicine den because of a condition of the mind, it's better to keep them around others than isolate them because… they heal better knowing they aren't alone."

"That sounds right to me!" Pearbranch chirped, resting her head on Midnightpaw's empty nest. "You'll be able to help a lot of mediator apprentices in the future!"

"I'm glad I don't have to do the work, though," Icepaw groaned. He rubbed his paws over his muzzle, chin resting on the exposed sandy floor of the apprentice's den. The Clan didn't have enough leather flooring after the Ocean's Assault to line the apprentice's den yet. Most of the camp was back to normal, with fresh materials forming the once wrecked roofs and debris cleaned out. Still, with Pearbranch enjoying her new nest by Puddlewhisper, Midnightpaw sleeping in the medicine den, and Valleypaw… well, the apprentice's den was pretty lonely.

At least Pearbranch was willing to keep him company so late in the night. The pair whispered in the quiet of the apprentice's den while the rest of RippleClan enjoyed the restored warrior's den. They could hear Rattlepelt working on crafts in the light of the central bonfire, tended by Asterblaze. Icepaw wondered if the pair were helping each other. He hoped so.

"Do you have another headache?" Pearbranch asked.

"Just tired," Icepaw muttered, moving his paws.

"You can practice in the morning if you want to sleep," Pearbranch hummed. She slowly got to her paws, but Icepaw smacked her down.

"Come on, we haven't been able to sit together since your ceremony," Icepaw huffed. "We haven't even…" Icepaw glanced out of the den, just in case Rattlepelt and Asterblaze were close enough to hear.

"We haven't seen Quickpaw since before the flood," Pearbranch finished Icepaw's thought.

"I should be practicing these lessons with her," Icepaw said.

"We—" Pearbranch said, but the sound of soft paws pushing against the sand choked out the conversation. Icepaw and Pearbranch's ears perked. Icepaw forgot it was the half-moon; the clerics were back from their meeting at StarClan's Shrine.

"If Burdockcreek thinks I should visit the human settlement," Estherfern sighed, entering camp with Gingerspring on her tail, "then I'll go to the human settlement."

"Let me come with you," Gingerspring chirped. "I can help you avoid the humans!"

"We'll see," Estherfern muttered, making her way to the medicine den. Weevilsight and Honeybuzz entered next, both quiet and lost in thought. Their gazes caught onto Icepaw and Pearbranch as they passed. Icepaw's neck prickled. When Troutpool entered camp, rather than following her fellow clerics to sleep, she drifted to the apprentice's den.

"I'm glad you two are awake," Troutpool sighed. "I was hoping to see you." Pearbranch sat at Icepaw's side, quiet and attentive, just like they were kits in the nursery, focused on their mother's gentle explanation of their past. Troutpool had the same strained look on her face as Puddlewhisper all those moons ago.

"What's wrong," Icepaw huffed. Troutpool's eyes searched for the best place to begin.

"SlugClan has been facing a yellowcough outbreak," Troutpool explained slowly. "I spoke with their cleric, Mushroomstripe, and she had some news you need to hear." Troutpool squirmed as she gathered her courage. "There's no easy way to say this, but Nimblestep caught yellowcough after the last Gathering. She passed away last night."

Huh. She was dead. Icepaw blinked. Should he… mourn? How should he react to something like that? Was Troutpool expecting something specific from him? She stared intently at Icepaw and Pearbranch, waiting. Waiting for what? Pearbranch's ears dipped. Should Icepaw act sad? He didn't really feel sad. He only saw Nimblestep at the few Gatherings he'd ever attended and… sat through what conversation he felt required to sit through. What was Icepaw feeling? What should he feel?

"Was it peaceful?" Pearbranch asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," Troutpool sighed, dipping her head. "I'm sorry. I can tell Paleseed about this in the morning, if you want to talk through this with someone."

"No thanks," Icepaw said. He realized that wasn't the appropriate thing to say when Troutpool blinked hard, unable to mask her surprise.

"If you're sure," Troutpool gulped. "I'm sorry you found out this way. Mushroomstripe also had a message from Quickpaw for you."

"How is she?" Pearbranch gulped, standing.

"Mushroomstripe just said that Quickpaw wants to see you," Troutpool sighed. "I'll make sure Oilstar takes you both to the next Gathering. Again, I'm so sorry I'm the one to tell you." Troutpool floundered for a moment, unsure what else she could say to the brother-sister pair. Eventually, she slunk after her fellow clerics, leaving Icepaw and Pearbranch softly illuminated by the bonfire a few fox-lengths away. Dread creeped into Icepaw's chest.

"You know what Quickpaw means by that," Icepaw muttered, catching Pearbranch's eyes. "Pearbranch, she's waiting for us."

"You know," Pearbranch gulped, "we don't have to crawl over the dirtplace wall anymore. I'm a historian now. I can leave whenever I want."

"And take an apprentice with you?" Icepaw chuckled, paws itching.

Nothing more had to be said. The pair hurried to the camp exit. Elmsprout sat guard outside and eyed Icepaw sharply when he appeared. Yet Pearbranch held her tail high and refused to hestitate. She escorted her brother around the night guard. As soon as their paws touched the crunchy autumn grass, their restless energy erupted.

Their blue eyes were wide and honed in on the glimmers of the half-moon through the shrouded sky. They did not watch their paws for twigs or leaves that had yet to fade to dust from the pressure of rain and life. There was nothing to hunt that night, and nothing to be hunted by. Only a destination and a pair of brown eyes waiting there.

"I hope she hasn't gone back to camp," Pearbranch gulped as the pungent smell of the WheatClan/AshClan border hit Icepaw's nose.

"She'll be there," Icepaw promised. After all, wouldn't Icepaw and Pearbranch wait until dawn if Puddlewhisper had passed? Icepaw slowed as they crossed the border. The scent of the RippleClan clerics still floated along the scent markers, a path of safe travel to the rest of the Clans. Icepaw took the lead and trailed along that scent path. Pearbranch's nose brushed his tail at times, a reminder that the night had not claimed her.

The conifers thickened and the grass grew greener, a sign of moisture perpetually clinging to the mud underneath. Icepaw forced himself not to cringe; it was worse than chunky sand sinking between his pads. How could Quickpaw stand it? Icepaw shoved the disgusting sensation deep into his thoughts, dragging up the most important questions of the night; was Quickpaw okay? Icepaw got his answer as he and Pearbranch arrived at their secret meeting place.

[Image ID: Icepaw and Peabranch sit next to Quickpaw. Quickpaw says, "I… could think about it."]

Now, it wasn't really "secret" by any means. It was just past the boundary of WheatClan, AshClan, and SlugClan; an old wolverine den, protected by roots as thick as Icepaw's legs. Although the wolverine had been gone for moons upon moons, its scent still clung to the mud, masking RippleClan scent from any who didn't expect to find it there. It was the perfect place for littermates to meet outside of Gatherings and pre-arranged meetings along the border. As Icepaw and Pearbranch pierced SlugClan territory, soft yet strained breathing tickled their ears.

"Quickpaw," Icepaw whispered as the wolverine den came into view. A brown muzzle shifted in the dim moon-light. The figure's breath hitched in a sob. Pearbranch dove into the wolverine den. She threw herself over Quickpaw as her SlugClan sister cried. Icepaw crawled in next to the pair.

"She died, Pear," Quickpaw whined. "She's gone."

"We heard, we heard," Pearbranch whispered. She licked Quickpaw's ears. "We're so sorry."

Icepaw was trained to teach others how to handle such displays of grief and empathy. He knew what a mediator was meant to do in such a situation; focus on the grieving cat, work through their emotions together. But Icepaw couldn't truly use the skills he was meant to teach. A wall formed around his words.

"I told her about our meetings," Quickpaw gulped. "She was so happy we were close. She didn't get to see that." A feeling Icepaw couldn't name squirmed into his head. In the end, Nimblestep left all three of them behind.

"Come with us," Icepaw huffed as Quickpaw cried. Quickpaw choked on her grief, staring wide-eyed at her brother.

"Icepaw, let her grieve," Pearbranch grumbled, grooming Quickpaw's neck.

"No, I mean it!" Icepaw scooted closer to Quickpaw. "You don't have any family left in SlugClan. You could see us all the time. RippleClan would love to have you. Slushtrail can help you finish training!" Quickpaw squirmed into herself.

"I don't like being a mediator," she whispered.

"You don't?" Pearbranch echoed. "But you're so good at it! You're so social."

"I don't like how cats need me," Quickpaw whined. "I don't… something bad will happen if I say the wrong thing. I hate it. I just wanted to see you two."

"So come home with us tonight!" Icepaw snapped. "Oilstar will take you in. You can be whatever you want!"

"She can't leave tonight," Pearbranch groaned. "SlugClan will think we kidnapped her!"

"I…" Quickpaw gulped, swallowing a sob, "could think about it." Icepaw and Pearbranch's tails perked up.

"I think you should think about it," Pearbranch said, rubbing against Quickpaw. "If you're lonely in SlugClan, though… we'll tell Oilstar to let you in."

"Can I just cry tonight, though?" Quickpaw whimpered. "Mom's gone. She's gone." Quickpaw pushed her head into Icepaw's shoulder. Icepaw rested his cheek against her. Pearbranch copied the gesture.

The orphans sat in the quiet of the wolverine den for as long as they could, soaking in grief over a mother they barely knew.

(Icepaw: 11, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Pearbranch: 11, female, historian, righteous, good hunter, good storyteller)

(Estherfern: 135, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Gingerspring: 17, male, cleric, charismatic, human expert, good hunter)

(Troutpool: 62, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight, good climber)

Mitespark announces she is expecting kits. She and Wolverineheart work on crafts together to celebrate their upcoming family.

[Image ID: Mitespark and Wolverineheart sit around a vole. Under Mitespark, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT. Boughfur jokes with them, saying, "Be honest… you picked that handsome WheatClan mediator as your sire, didn't you?"]

(Mitespark: 43, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)

(Wolverineheart: 33, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Boughfur: 33, female, historian, righteous, great climber)

Estherfern visits the human settlement with Brightreed.

[Image ID: Estherfern walks with Brightreed as tbhe latter says, "I don't know what to say to her." A black and white molly with yellow eyes follows them. Under her, it reads NEW PLAYER: VASCO, 12, FEMALE, LONESOME, GREAT KITSITTER, + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH.]

---

Estherfern and Brightreed knew better than to spend much time in the human settlement. As StarClan directed, Estherfern brought the Witch Hunters a share of RippleClan's mullein. The smell in the streets made it apparent that Indigo was not the only cat hailing from the settlement to contract yellowcough. Even the few Witch Hunters that greeted the RippleClan cats seemed to choke down coughing fits and snatch the mullein like hungry dogs. Mother and son were quick to retreat to the forest.

"She's your mate, son," Estherfern sighed as the pair journeyed back to the Great Northern River. "If you're having these issues, why won't you talk to her about them?"

"It's just…" Brightreed groaned, staring at the bone-gray branches overhead. "Well, Ravenweaver always wants to work. She doesn't want to relax with our friends. And she's not even that good at her work! What am I supposed to tell her? I love you, but you shouldn't be an artisan?"

"Maybe leave that part out," Estherfern sighed, rolling her eyes. "It's an exaggeration. Ravenweaver is merely sloppy in her initial work. She cleans out the mistakes in time. If she feels as anxious socializing as you do, then perhaps you can start there."

"I fight through that, though," Brightreed huffed.

"I don't know what else you expect me to say about it," Estherfern tutted softly. "How's she supposed to know you're lonely if you don't tell her? Do you need me to arrange a talk with Slushtrail?"

"You know I don't want you interfering with that." Brightreed couldn't stop himself from curling his lip as he spoke. He swallowed hard when his words hit his mother, though. He coughed and turned his harsh eyes back to the dying path at his paws.

"You're right, you're right," Estherfern cooed, literally swallowing her pride with a deep breath. "I'll leave you to your woes, then."

"Estherfern!" The sound of the Great Northern River covered what awkwardness remained between mother and son. The cool mist flowing off the rapids soothed Estherfern's lungs, irritated in sympathy for the sick. On the other side, Anchovystrike and Halibutdusk waited beside a basket of tiny fish, each barely big enough to hold in one's mouth. Sandhollow collected fresh water in a bottle hanging around his neck. Late autumn wind pummeled the cats' ears.

"Did Wildclaw send a patrol for us?" Estherfern hummed as she stepped onto the drowned stepping stones.

"We were just fishing," Anchovystrike explained, nudging the basket. "We can dry out these fish to last through the winter!"

"I don't think I can eat fish for a while," Brightreed groaned, hesitating on the unclaimed side of the river. "My fur still reeks of stormwater." Estherfern bit back to the urge to point out that everything smelled like stormwater; they lived next to the ocean, for God's sake.

"Did you bring a Witch Hunter with you?" Halibutdusk muttered, whiskers rapidly twitching as they took in a shadowed scent. Estherfern opened her nose. The mist and fish hid whatever Halibutdusk smelled. Yet a moment later, Estherfern didn't need her nose. A loud cough from behind Brightreed shocked the golden warrior into the river. He scrambled to RippleClan's side as a black and white figure emerged from the same path Estherfern took home.

The molly was lanky, with silvery swirls over a black pelt. Tangles covered her white chest. Her bony legs shook as she approached the river. Her jaw quivered, fighting off another cough. Sandhollow let go of his bottle, watching the loner. Water splashed out of the unsealed bottle, wetting his chest. Yet before he could call out to the coughing molly, Anchovystrike dragged Sandhollow away from the river, dumping out what remained in the bottle.

"Behind us!" Anchovystrike barked, shoving Sandhollow toward Estherfern.

"Anchovystrike!" Estherfern snapped as the silver-striped molly reached the riverbed. "She can barely stand. What threat does she pose?"

"What color are her eyes?" Anchovystrike hissed. He stood in front of Sandhollow and Estherfern, pupils blown wide.

"What?" Sandhollow gulped, blinking wildly. Panic shot up Estherfern's throat, invisible to her Clanmates. Memories of a black, vicious mass overwhelmed her vision.

"They're yellow," Estherfern muttered. Anchovystrike's stiff hackles lowered slightly, but he still guarded Estherfern and Sandhollow, gaze locked on the loner.

"What are you doing?" the silver-striped molly coughed. "I need help!"

"And we will," Anchovystrike called across the river. "Just not in the way you think. Stay right there, we'll be over in a moment." Anchovystrike turned to his Clanmates, face pulled tight, and whispered, "She's not possessed, but there is ichor on her paws. There's some sort of Dark Forest influence on her."

"Can you tell what it is?" Halibutdusk asked, sparing a glance at the infected molly.

"I haven't really encountered enough ichor to tell what the problem is," Anchovystrike scoffed with an awkward chuckle. "I'm going to have to pull it off and deal with whatever comes out."

"We'll help," Halibutdusk huffed, nudging Brightreed out of his stunned expression. The golden tom nodded along with the senior warrior.

"I overheard you!" the sick molly called. "When you saw my friends, you mentioned a cat named Indigo. They're my friend. Are they alive?"

"Indigo is alive," Estherfern called back, moving around Anchovystrike. "He's almost recovered from his yellowcough."

"I'm not important enough to earn any of the mullein you gave the Witch Hunters," the sick molly coughed. "I just need some for myself, and I'll go. I won't get you sick."

"We might be able to help more," Anchovystrike said. He approached the river's edge. "Just don't call me a witch while I do this, alright?" Anchovystrike followed the stepping stones to the coughing cat, Halibutdusk and Brightreed behind him.

"What's your name?" Sandhollow called as his Clanmates got closer to the newcomer.

"Vasco," the sick molly said. She eyed Anchovystrike as he approached. She tightened her jaw to suppress a cough, but nearly threw up with the intensity of it.

"We can bring you to our camp and help you, if you're willing," Anchovystrike explained, couching by Vasco's paw. "Before we can do that, I have to do something. Again, please don't fight me."

Anchovystrike snapped his fangs together just above Vasco's paw, his whiskers brushing her fur. Estherfern blinked, and the black ichor all of RippleClan so deeply feared could at last be seen. Ichor smeared each of Vasco's paws. A force like gravity pulled the ichor toward Anchovystrike's jaws. Black slime dripped onto the grass like spit. Anchovystrike's fangs pierced deep into the ichor like the scruff of an enemy warrior.

Vasco shrieked. She flailed back, her front paw smacking hard into Anchovystrike's chin. As she spun and whirled away, the ichor whipped off her body, sudden tension snapping back at Anchovystrike. The ichor smacked into his face like a soaked moss-ball. Anchovystrike hissed and peeled the big blob off. Slime smeared his lilac fur.

The ichor blob squirmed like dying prey. It writhed and bubbled, sending unwanted memories through Estherfern's mind. Sharp squeaks gurgled out of it. Features took form and color before a terrified audience. Pale pink ears. Black, soulless eyes. Matted gray fur. Slimy, worm-like tails, tied together, twisting into endless knots, leaving their owners trapped in perpetual panic.

The ichor had become a mass of snarling rats, conjoined together by their tails.

"Rat Leader!" Estherfern cried. Halibutdusk shoved Anchovystrike aside as the quivering swarm of rats scrambled toward the younger warrior like a spider. Halibutdusk grabbed the knot of tails, gagging at the touch. They reared their head back and slammed the Rat Leader into the stepping stones of the Great Northern River. The spirit's stomach-curling screech was soon overtaken by the gurgle of the river. Halibutdusk tossed the stunned horde along the river's current. The Rat Leader splashed into the deeper waters beyond. Its writhing form clawed at the water, but the weight of its own horror soon brought it below the surface. The Spirit of Shadow was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"What was that?" Vasco yowled, cowering at the base of a tree while Estherfern and Sandhollow joined their Clanmates. Halibutdusk lapped up the fresh river water like their life depended on it—because truthfully, it did.

"A Rat Leader," Estherfern growled. "A vicious spirit that infects whoever it comes across. One of many spirits to haunt the dead cursed to the Dark Forest."

"What sort of horrors does your faith contain?" Vasco gasped, hackles rising.

"I'm so sorry," Sandhollow gulped, softening his voice. "I don't know how a monster of Clan life could have attached itself to you. Spirits of Shadow aren't supposed to target those outside the Clans. I have good news, though." Vasco stopped shaking. Her ears remained stiff and her hackles raised, but she stayed where she was, yellow eyes locked into Sandhollow's blue gaze. "We owe you. If you're sick because of a Clan-made monster, the Clans owe it to you to help you recover." Vasco said nothing, thoughts swirling behind her unblinking stare.

"Am I going to get yellowcough?" Halibutdusk asked, gagging on their own tongue.

"Clean your mouth with salt water to be safe," Estherfern ordered. "Go, go! We'll take care of Vasco." Halibutdusk scrambled back to the safety of RippleClan territory. They followed the river toward the ocean, holding their tongue out the whole way.

"Thank you!" Anchovystrike called after them. He shuddered, rubbing his stained face in the grass. "That thing almost bit me."

"You're going to give me the herbs I need?" Vasco finally gulped.

"Better," Sandhollow promised. "We can take you to our camp and help you recover. Oilstar won't turn you away."

"Your friend Indigo is there, too," Brightreed awkwardly chirped, standing behind Sandhollow and peering over the cream-tinted tom's head. "You can check on him!" Vasco stood, slowly, hesitantly. She eyed the RippleClan cats, one by one.

"If you say you owe me," she finally gulped, "then show me. Take me to camp."

"Lean on me if you feel weak," Sandhollow said, sliding up to Vasco. "I'll help you over the river."

As the three RippleClan toms helped the young silver-striped molly across the river, Estherfern's gaze drifted through the trees, back toward the settlement hidden beyond. StarClan itself had requested Estherfern's presence there, and now she understood why. Vasco was certainly not the only Witch Hunter smeared in black ichor, coughing up yellow pleghm and choking on air.

The Dark Forest had gotten its claws into the Witch Hunters.

(Estherfern: 135, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Brightreed: 33, male, warrior, righteous, student of art)

(Anchovystrike: 36, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Halibutdusk: 93, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Vasco: 12, female, Witch Hunter, lonesome, great kitsitter)

(Sandhollow: 32, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

Now that Indigo has recovered from yellowcough, he asks to take on a proper name as a teacher of RippleClan and abandon his kittypet name. Oilstar decides to name him Chicorycough. They love the joke in their name.

[Image ID: Indigo, now named Chicorycough, stands tall and healthy. Under them, it says LEVEL UP! INDIGO → CHICORYCOUGH, - CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH.]

(Chicorycough: 41, half tom (he/they), teacher, playful, incredible runner, great teacher)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 75

Yellowpaw, Sandpaw, and Stormpaw are apprenticed to Asterblaze, Spikecrash, and Clammask.

[Image ID: Yellowpaw, Sandpaw, and Stormpaw are apprentices. Sandpaw says, "Do you think Thunderpaw is impressed?" Under Yellowpaw, it says LEVEL UP! YELLOWKIT → YELLOWPAW, NOISY → COLD. Under Sandpaw, it says LEVEL UP! SANDKIT → SANDPAW, SELF-CONSCIOUS → LOYAL. Under Stormpaw, it says LEVEL UP! STORMKIT → STORMPAW, KNOW-IT-ALL → CHARISMATIC.]

(Yellowpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, cold, quick to make peace)

(Sandpaw: 6, male, mediator apprentice, loyal, interested in Clan history)

(Stormpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, loves to eat)

Honeybuzz helps the three star-blessed apprentices.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Weevilpaw, Wolfpaw, and Anchovypaw watch Estherfern talk with a Dark Forest spirit. Under Honeybuzz, it says + NEW SKILL: GOOD TEACHER.]

---

Honeybuzz cupped his paw around one of the many plucked mushrooms that formed the unholy circle. He sniffed at the herbal mixture that sealed the pickings together. A few strands of black and red fur clung to the wet earth that lined the edges of the muddy den. The constant rain of the last four days made the ground slick and sent water dripping from the root-lined ceiling. Anchovypaw, Wolfpaw, and Weevilpaw stood outside the den, heads close together as they peered inside. The rain glued their pelts to their skin.

“And you’ve known about this for how long, Anchovypaw?” Honeybuzz asked. He absently batted at his wooden necklace, the freshly plucked cicada wing glistening with raindrops. He pointedly sat outside of the circle, mud sinking into his thin fur.

“Only a few days,” Anchovypaw admitted. “I didn’t want to say anything until I could come back here, but there’s even more ichor here than there was when I first found the den.”

“You should have told us sooner,” Weevilpaw huffed with a glare so sharp that, had she had her sister’s ability, Anchovypaw would have frozen stiff.

“I wasn’t going to scare anyone if I didn’t have to!” Anchovypaw huffed. A sharp flick of his tail sent a stream of water flying over Weevilpaw and Wolfpaw’s backs. “It could have just been where the beast that killed Weedfoot went to die. I only waited a few days! It took me that long to get away from Halibutdusk!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Honeybuzz promised. He squeezed around the apprentices, squinting as the rain splashed his eyes.

“Now we know someone else has been here,” Wolfpaw pointed out. 

“What is it, Honeybuzz?” Weevilpaw asked. She moved further into the den, eyes locked on the circle.

“You remember my lessons on channeling StarClan?” Honeybuzz said, shivering. “It exhausts power StarClan wasn’t planning to use, but the immediate and physical communication can justify an absence of subtle signs and assistance.”

“But we don’t use mushrooms,” Weevilpaw said. She poked at a mushroom, making it roll out of its spot. “We form a circle of cats, not plants.”

“But do you remember when you met Terracottafoot?” Honeybuzz sighed. “I asked them to tell you about last Harvest Moon, and some of their knowledge of the Dark Forest. Newtstream, their mentor, taught them about channeling Dark Forest spirits using a circle of mushrooms.”

“Someone’s summoning Spirits of Shadow,” Wolfpaw gulped.

“Who would be that mouse-brained?” Anchovypaw growled. His claws left gouges in the mud. “We all remember the Shardling. Who would want to bring something like that back?” Anchovypaw looked like he was going to be sick. Wolfpaw rubbed against Anchovypaw’s side. “You were right, Weevilpaw. I should have destroyed this den as soon as I found it.”

“Then they would have made another one,” Honeybuzz pointed out. “No, we need to find a trusted warrior to watch this den. They can wait until the culprit visits again. Waspdawn or Puddlewhisper would do well. I trust them.” Weevilpaw’s soaked fur prickled. Her eyes widened, locked on something Honeybuzz couldn’t see. Her mouth dropped slightly, breath catching. 

“Out, out!” Weevilpaw hissed, lunging past Wolfpaw. She scrambled into a thick bush, still bursting with summer life. Wolfpaw and Anchovypaw were instantly at her side, following her into the shadows. Honeybuzz stumbled in after them, sharp branches poking his ribs.

“Who did you see?” Anchovypaw whispered just as the shrubbery on the other side of the dark den shifted. Bicolored eyes glimmered through the mid-morning haze.

“Estherfern?” Honeybuzz gasped as the older cleric stepped into full view. Estherfern carried a ball of fur in her jaws, the same red and black colors Honeybuzz found in the strange den. Her fur on her cheeks drooped like heavy leaves. She strolled into the shadows, ignorant to her spies.

“The Shardling almost killed her kits,” Anchovypaw growled, his rage making the leaves shake. “Why would she deal with the Dark Forest?”

“Keep listening,” Wolfpaw whispered. “We might find out.” Estherfern placed the furballs in the center of the circle. Her cool gaze settled on Weevilpaw’s disturbed mushroom. Honeybuzz grit his teeth. Estherfern carefully nudged the mushroom back into its original position. She sat in the den’s entrance, back to Honeybuzz and the apprentices.

Estherfern declared, “I call upon the spirit of Hawthornstealer, banished from StarClan for murder in the name of his kits. Despite your sins, your assistance is required. Return to the Clans, if only for a moment. Speak to us.”

“Do you see that?” Anchovypaw whispered, pressing into Weevilpaw. “Do you see that?” Honeybuzz squinted. The circle was still. Suddenly, Weevilpaw gasped. She bit into her paw to muffle her shock. Honeybuzz braced his heart for whatever the star-blessed apprentices saw.

It began as a shift in the mud, like water in a pot at the first stages of boiling. The ground around the fur offering darkened. Black sludge bubbled out of the mud and lapped up the fur balls like medicine. The sound of its formation reminded Honeybuzz of paws trapped in thick gunk, pulling out of the mess with a sucking slurp. It leaked from under the mushrooms and collected in the circle’s center. The ichor pulled itself upward like drops of water falling from the ceiling, perverting the pull of the earth. A subtle red glow illuminated the den.

“It’s finally working,” Estherfern gasped as the ichor took shape. It lifted itself high like a cat arching their back. It clung to the ground at four points that slowly took on the details of paws. A claw-like tail sprouted from its back. The ichor bubbled and bulged into a muzzle. Two glowing red eyes erupted from the spirit’s face. StarClan help them all.

“So you are Estherfern,” the spirit said. Its voice was as sticky as the mud from which it was born, dissolving into the sound of the tumbling rain.

“Hawthornstealer?” Estherfern asked. The spirit blinked slowly, its eyelids like a mudslide. 

“Why do you call?” the spirit groaned.

“Oilstripe and Lavendertwist told me your story,” Estherfern explained. She inched closer, back still stuck in the rain. “You killed an elder to ensure more food for your kits in a famine. You would have done anything for them. StarClan doesn’t seem to have the power I need. I’m hoping you can help.”

“Explain.”

“My kits are sick, and RippleClan can do nothing to help them. One of my daughters is going deaf, the other is half-blind. And now my only son has issues of the head, issues the mediators are simply bandaging, not fixing.” Was she talking about Brightpaw? Spikecrash had asked Honeybuzz and Troutpool about any relaxing herbs the young tom could take before the Gathering, something to ease the panic that overtook him when too many cats surrounded him. It was manageable. There was no need to resort to such extremes.

“You are searching for a cure.”

“I can’t let them struggle like this. How can I fix them?” The spirit stared at Estherfern silently, the rainfall burning into the background of Honeybuzz’s mind. The only sign of un-life in the spirit rested in its long, slow blinking. Even Estherfern, collected as she was, twitched under the spirit’s unending, blank stare.

“I…,” Anchovypaw whispered, “I don’t think that’s the ghost of Hawthornstealer.”

“Why not?” Wolfpaw whimpered.

“It’s too empty,” Anchovypaw groaned, struggling to find the right word. “Weedfoot’s stories said Dark Forest ghosts looked like themselves. Even the Shardling looked a little like Autumnstar, isn’t that what Downstar told us? This thing doesn’t look like anyone. It looks like a shadow."

“We may have the power,” the spirit finally coughed through its thick ichor. “We need help.”

“That’s what I expected,” Estherfern sighed. “What sort of ritual do I need to perform? Is there another spirit I should talk to?”

“Your children were destined to develop these afflictions,” the spirit gurgled. “Their destinies must be replaced. Replaced with another’s.”

“Elaborate.” 

“The eyes of the clear sighted.” The spirit’s red eyes shone like a flickering fire. “The ears of the cautious listener.” Its pointed ears flicked, their first movement since the spirit’s arrival. “The tongue of the charmed.” Its black teeth peered out from muddy lips. “Three sacrifices. Three kits.” Estherfern stilled. Honeybuzz’s heart sank. Despite her standoffishness, despite her argumentativeness, Estherfern was part of the Clan, her kits were part of the Clan. How could she throw that away to fix what didn’t, what couldn’t be fixed?

“We’ll stop her before she begins,” Anchovypaw growled, inching a paw out of hiding. StarClan asked for Estherfern. Why would they send for her if she could be swayed like this?

“Offer the dead—”

“No.” All four hidden cats perked their ears high. Estherfern stood, tail rippling slowly as she stared the spirit down. The spirit, to Honeybuzz’s continued shock, flinched.

“No?” the spirit spat.

“What do you take me for?” Estherfern scoffed. “You think I’m so blindly devoted to a cure that you can turn me into a murderer? A sadist for the sake of my children?”

“You want them cured,” the spirit growled. Its paw lingered at the edge of the circle. “This is how you cure them.”

“And what happens when I do?” Estherfern asked, tilting one ear in a shocking taunt. “I know how your land works, the rules of your afterlife. They will go to StarClan some day and learn what I did for them, if they do not find out in life. They will despise me for what I have done.”

“But they will be cured.”

“Furthermore, I know the creatures that inhabit your Dark Forest.” Estherfern walked around the circle like a hunter. The spirit never turned its head, face stuck in a sneer. “It is the home of murderers and scoundrels. I would surely arrive there after my own death were I to kill three innocents for you. You would condemn me to eternity without my children.”

“You’ve already been damned, Estherfern. You brought forth the Skin N’ Bones that slew your deputy. You are the cause of your Clan’s suffering. Do you believe StarClan will forgive you for that?” A Skin N’ Bones. Of course. Nothing else would have injured Downstar like that. Nothing else would have devoured Weedfoot alive. Estherfern stopped. The calculated and callous look that always hung in her eyes cracked. Honeybuzz could almost see Estherfern’s soul drop. “Why give up now? You’re too far gone. Your children are not. Why summon us if you were not willing to do whatever it took to fix your kits?”

“I will not have them hate me!” Estherfern rounded on the spirit, lips curled tight. “I will not have them curse my name!” She shook her head low. “I will find a different cure for them. I will find another way. I send you back, spirit, back to your dark wanderings, where StarClan’s light does not reach.” Estherfern reached for one of the mushrooms. Her paw breached the circle.

“No!” The spirit dug its fangs into Estherfern’s paw. Ichor dripped into her fresh wound. She pulled back, ripping more of her skin in the process. 

“I respect what you did for your kits, Hawthornstealer,” Estherfern hissed, licking her paw. “I realize now, however, that where you could put aside your kits’ emotions for their futures, I cannot.”

“We,” the spirit growled, voice dissolving, “are not Hawthornstealer.” 

The spirit’s legs melted like snow. Its form dissolved and splashed about in a massive sticky pool. One by one, the mushrooms rolled into the ichor and vanished under the writhing mass as though falling into a great black hole. The ichor bubbled and squirmed as though in a death rattle. It leaked from the confines of the circle and coated the den floor. Estherfern backed up, back paws slipping on the soaked grass.

Weevilpaw raced out of the bush before Honeybuzz could react. She threw her full weight into Estherfern’s side. The two clerics tumbled into the shrubs. In that moment, the ichor exploded. It sprayed the walls of the dirt den and shot into the rain in an endless cascade. More ichor escaped the den than could have possibly made up the spirit in the circle. As it flew into the forest, large clumps tumbled to the side like wayward drops from a massive wave. The glops tumbled and sloshed against the wet ground before launching through the trees and out of sight. More and more of these glops scrambled away until finally, finally, the spray slowed. A long black trail led out of the den, which was now nothing but ichor and goop. 

Honeybuzz, Anchovypaw, and Wolfpaw crept out of hiding as Weevilpaw got off Estherfern. Mud coated half of her brown pelt. The ichor stunk like rotting flesh and mushrooms.

“How long have you been there?” Estherfern asked, slow to her paws.

“Wolfpaw, you might have to freeze me,” Anchovypaw growled, claws out. “I’m a whisker’s length from killing her.”

“Anchovypaw, no!” Weevilpaw stood in front of Estherfern, paws skidding. “She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She was trying to help her kits. We can’t blame her for that!”

“But the Dark Forest…” Wolfpaw gulped. With the puff in her fur dissolved in the rain, she seemed half her size.

“It is full of dead cats, not unlike StarClan,” Estherfern huffed. She stepped around Weevilpaw and faced down the furious crowd. “All I wanted was a way to cure my kits, something you’ve shown you cannot do.”

“Estherfern, you weren’t talking to a dead warrior,” Honeybuzz groaned, almost stepping on the ichor trail. “That was a Herald. Their entire purpose is to trick the living into allowing Spirits of Shadow into the territories.” His gaze lingered on the forest. He could almost hear the half-formed monsters slurping across the grass, taking their true, cursed forms.

“You heard her!” Weevilpaw huffed. “She wasn’t going to listen to the spirit. She was going to destroy the circle.”

“She didn’t commit murder,” Anchovypaw scoffed. “You did well, Estherfern. You did the bare minimum.”

“Is it your fault?” Wolfpaw muttered, voice almost lost in the rain. “Did you get Weedfoot killed?” Estherfern stared into the ichor-soaked den. 

“I didn’t know,” she said softly. 

“She didn’t know, Anchovypaw,” Weevilpaw snapped. “She’s a good cat!”

“She didn’t care about killing anyone, she cared about what her kits would think,” Anchovypaw growled. “How can we trust a cleric who doesn’t care if you live or die?”

“I trust her,” Weevilpaw huffed, pressing into Estherfern. “Even though she’s strange.”

“Weevilpaw,” Honeybuzz sighed, jumping over the ichor, “take Anchovypaw and Wolfpaw and go back to camp. Just go to the medicine den and wait for us.” 

“What are we going to do with her?” Anchovypaw asked.

“Leave that to me,” Honeybuzz said, shaking his head. “Now go. Stick together, and hurry. We’ll follow you soon.” The apprentices hesitated, all glancing at one another. Weevilpaw was the first to break; she joined Wolfpaw and nudged her onward. The sisters ran toward the coast. Anchovypaw followed, his burning eyes digging into Estherfern as he vanished into the foggy trees.

“It seems I underestimated the vigor of the Dark Forest’s supernatural entities,” Estherfern hummed, cleaning the mud off her injured paw.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Honeybuzz hissed softly.

“Of course I do,” Estherfern snapped, curling her lips. “You love to tell the story of the Rippling Ashes. They ventured into the Dark Forest, they had Newtstream’s advice. What made my own approach so wicked?”

“Because it’s dangerous!” Honeybuzz groaned. “Because channeling Dark Forest souls, even when they want to help, clears a path for Spirits of Shadow, and they don’t care about any of us. They’re born to hunt. This isn’t worth it.”

“If your kits were sick, wouldn’t you do what you could for them?” Estherfern growled with a large thrash of her tail. “You can’t fix them. I thought the Dark Forest could.”

“They don’t need to be fixed!” Honeybuzz yowled, throwing his whole height up to glare down at Estherfern (who, unlike Rapidleaf, would not cower). “They aren’t dying, Estherfern! They can adapt! I’m sorry I can’t cure Thunderkit or stop Brightpaw’s anxiety, but they’ll be fine!” As Honeybuzz yowled, the first crack appeared in the sky, striking through the gray clouds. Thunder echoed far overhead. Estherfern stared at the growing storm.

“What’s out there now, do you think?” Estherfern sighed.

“Dog-cats, forsaken prey, honeybites…” Honeybuzz muttered, spine itching. “There may even be monsters we rarely see, ones we don’t have names for. We don’t want to know everything that’s out there now.”

“This is something we can fix,” Estherfern huffed. She marched around Honeybuzz and stood on the roof of the wicked den. Jaw tight as her bit paw moved, Estherfern dug at the soaked grass. Her pelt was more mud than fur. Chunks of earth tumbled into the den. The sopping ground folded in on itself like a wave. Estherfern rolled away as the roof of the den fell and covered the sticky, stinking ichor. Grass stuck to Estherfern’s underside. Honeybuzz hurried to her, helping her away from the crumbled remains of her sins.

“We can,” Honeybuzz gulped. “We can fix this.”

(Honeybuzz: 23, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Anchovypaw: 10, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

(Weevilpaw: 10, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfpaw: 10, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Estherfern: 109, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

Sandpaw and Spikecrash arrange time for Estherfern to see the kits she worked so hard to “fix”.

[Image ID: Estherfern faces Thunderpaw, Wolverinepaw, and Brightpaw.]

---

Estherfern didn’t belong at such a lively celebration. The sumptuous food, the well-rehearsed performances… Harvest Moon was as grand as RippleClan claimed it to be. Every Clan gathered as the sunrise poked through the trees, preparing their stews and games and performances. But it was a holiday to drive off Spirits of Shadow. What good would it do to have their herald nestled in the safety of the firelight?

“Spirits of Shadow hate charms,” Troutpool explained as she tucked a cat’s wood-carved face into the boughs of a low-hanging pine. “AshClan spends a lot of time carving these trinkets, and all that care under StarClan’s protections makes them especially useful in warding off danger.” All the clerics roamed the edge’s of the great clearing with baskets of charms and other concoctions to protect the five Clans. Estherfern carried RippleClan’s heavy basket as Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw prepared the defenses to Troutpool’s instruction.

“How many do we have to place?” Weevilpaw asked, shoving a charm as far into a bush as she could reach.

“We’re covering this entire corner,” Troutpool explained. “We don’t want to leave any openings for spirits.” Estherfern nearly broke the charm in her jaws with how tightly she grit her teeth. She quickly passed it to Honeybuzz.

“Estherfern!” Two figures slipped through the massive crowd. Spikecrash and Sandpaw walked side by side, mentor and apprentice in sync. Sandpaw’s gaze wandered throughout the clearing, taking in the sights of all five Clans for the first time.

“You want to speak to me?” Estherfern asked. While her tone made her question sound casual, the brown priestess hid her surprise deep. She didn’t talk to many cats outside of the medicine den. Why would two of the Clan’s mediators want her? Did they know the real reason why Honeybuzz reported a surge of spirits in the Clan? The reason it was too dangerous to leave camp alone? Why all five Clans, not just RippleClan, now had a newfound fear for their lives? Had Honeybuzz not lied for her, Estherfern would have told the truth and accepted the consequences, yet why he kept it secret, Estherfern didn’t know She glanced at Honeybuzz, but the young gold and white cleric focused on his charms.

“I’m hoping we can borrow you,” Spikecrash explained. “Troutpool, do you still need Estherfern’s help?”

“We’re just placing our wards at the moment,” Troutpool explained, reaching into Estherfern’s basket. “We could finish without her if you really need her.” Estherfern carefully slipped the basket off her neck.

“Thank you, Troutpool,” Spikecrash sighed. She flicked her tail for Estherfern to follow. It seemed no one cared if Estherfern actually wanted to speak with Spikecrash, but who was she to refuse? She trailed after Spikecrash and Sandpaw, heading over to the ovens. Clammask and Stormpaw worked with Drumtooth and Thunderpaw, laughing over an unheard joke as they tended the fire under a massive pot of stew.

“I hope this isn’t too much of an invasion of privacy,” Spikecrash began, her scarred flank lifted high in a long stretch. “Honeybuzz and Weevilpaw spoke with me a few days ago and said you were having some difficulties with your kits.” Estherfern narrowed her eyes.

“If we’re going to discuss my kits,” she sighed, “maybe you could tell me why no one told me about Brightpaw’s meetings with you?”

“So you do know about that,” Spikecrash sighed. “Brightpaw is an apprentice now, Estherfern. We aren’t pressured to tell you anything he didn’t want you to know.” 

“If he’s sick, I want to help him,” Estherfern huffed.

“Why do you think he didn’t want you to know?” Sandpaw scoffed. “Look how you acted with Wolverinepaw and Thunderpaw.” Oh if only he knew just what Estherfern had done for them. What the Dark Forest wanted her to do.

“I’ve only ever tried to help them overcome their own limitations,” Estherfern said, her sharp stare ricocheting off Sandpaw and muting his confident words.

“That’s why we wanted to show you a few things,” Spikecrash explained. She waved a paw toward the oven where Thunderpaw and the other RippleClan cats gathered.

“The only goal of tonight is to have a better stew than WheatClan,” Drumtooth explained, shooting a friendly sneer at WheatClan’s oven and their large pot. He licked the surface of the stew and smacked his jaws. “It’s good, but it’s missing something.” Thunderpaw copied her mentor. Her face squirmed, thinking hard. She then made a strange motion with her paws; balancing on her back legs, she brought her paws close to her mouth and wiggled them as they moved away.

“I know this one,” Stormpaw chirped, completely focused on Thunderpaw. “If the wiggles are the sea… seaweed! That’s seaweed!”

“Yes!” Thunderpaw squealed. The two young apprentices cheered and giggled at their success, bunting one another

“AshClan borrowed our basket of seaweed,” Clammask explained, nudging Thunderpaw. “Grab some for us.”

“Grab seaweed,” Thunderpaw laughed. She quickly swiped the air like she was dragging a mouse out of hiding, then made the ‘seaweed’ motion again. Stormpaw mimicked the dragging motion as Thunderpaw hurried to AshClan’s oven.

“Why is Stormpaw learning Clan-sign?” Estherfern asked her mediator companions.

“Because Thunderpaw’s teaching her,” Sandpaw chirped. “Whenever Thunderpaw gets back from her sign lessons with Mummichogleap, she practices with us apprentices. Most of us are learning a few words so Thunderpaw isn’t left out.”

“And you want to learn?” 

“Thunderpaw makes it fun!”

“You can’t expect the whole Clan to learn this second language.”

“No one does.” Spikecrash touched her tail to Estherfern’s shoulder.. “But there are cats who want to make the effort. They can translate for those who don’t know. It puts pressure off Thunderpaw. She can miss what someone said, but she’ll have friends and family who can let her know.” Thunderpaw trotted back to the oven with a few long strips of seaweed. Clammask tore the seaweed into stew-sized chunks, showing the apprentices how to curl their paws just right. Thunderpaw seemed… happy.

“Now if you’ll follow us over here…” Sandpaw purred, strolling around the Leader’s Stone. Estherfern followed, tail a bit higher than before.

Brightpaw, Ravenpaw, and Vervainpaw sat with a gaggle of apprentices from the other Clans. They lounged about, chatting and laughing. Brightpaw nodded along to an apprentice’s story, his flank stretched out like frog legs. Ravenpaw relaxed on top of him, oohing and awing over the tale.

“I don’t know what your birth place thought of disorders of the mind,” Spikecrash whispered, brushing against Estherfern once more, “but like most disabilities, you can learn to live with them. There was a great gathering of warriors and codekeepers here at the new moon, do you remember? Brightpaw managed to befriend these apprentices during the visit. They invited their friends and littermates to chat today, and Brightpaw is happy to spend time with them. His mind is likely lying to him right now, but he knows ways to manage that. He could overcome his anxiety naturally some day, but that’s a minor part of who he is.”

“I know that,” Estherfern huffed. “He loves to play with Rabbitjoy’s paint supplies. He’s sensitive, and loves his sisters with all his heart. I’ve only ever wanted to help those traits shine.”

“That’s not how Brightpaw sees it,” Sandpaw scoffed under his breath. The comment hollowed out Estherfern’s chest. Before she could respond, two brown blurs shot past the Leader’s Stone with a horde of apprentices and young warriors at their tails. Wolverinepaw and Yarrowpaw led the crowd to an open spot within the festivities. They studied their followers like leader and deputy, the sunrise framing their profiles.

“We’ve got until after sunhigh to prepare!” Wolverinepaw cheered. 

“Are we going to let some dusty old bones beat us?” Yarrowpaw cried.

“No!” the young crowd yowled joyfully, already shoving and jumping over each other.

“Let’s show them what the new generation can do!” Wolverinepaw called. Her followers cheered, yowling to the high branches. They scattered throughout the clearing and split into sparring groups. They steadied their stances and wiggled their flanks. With sheathed paws, the youth of the Clans launched into training, trading blows and careful bites. Slushpaw lingered near the edge of the training grounds, cheering the others on.

“Slushpaw!” Sandpaw yowled to the older mediator apprentice. “What are they doing?”

“Well,” Slushpaw laughed, trotting up to Sandpaw, Spikecrash, and Estherfern, “Yarrowpaw and Wolverinepaw were arguing with Darkkick and another old warrior about what was a better trait in a fight; youth or experience. Suddenly all these other cats started joining in, and now the senior warriors are going to have a big mock-battle with the apprentices, plus some warriors who haven’t attended a Harvest Moon before.”

“And Wolverinepaw’s participating in this?” Estherfern huffed. She searched for her daughter in the crowd. She found Wolverinepaw rolling about with Yarrowpaw in the middle of the mess. Yarrowpaw shoved Wolverinepaw’s head into the dirt. Wolverinepaw snapped her jaw around Yarrowpaw’s leg and pulled her onto her shoulder. Yarrowpaw laughed as Wolverinepaw took her place on top of the older apprentice.

"She's as capable as any apprentice her age," Spikecrash assured Estherfern.

"She seemed so insecure during her ceremony…" Estherfern muttered.

"Wolverinepaw?" Spikecrash chuckled. "I don't think so. From what I've heard, she thinks she's strong enough to take on an actual wolverine."

"She didn't choose a role in time, though," Estherfern pointed out.

"Because she wanted to do everything!" Slushpaw laughed. "I talked with her right up to her ceremony. She had a new role in mind every day!" Oh. Had Wolverinepaw's sight not come up at all? Surely her decaying vision would make it hard for her to fight. Yet she kept up with Yarrowpaw, tumbling across the clearing with abandon. Had Estherfern's kits always been so sure of themselves? Surely they wanted cures. How else could they survive in a world that showed no mercy to the weak? In the cat-minded human's den, if you couldn't match up to the others, you wouldn't eat. Three of Estherfern's brilliant kits would have died in that awful place. Except…they weren't there anymore, were they?

"Can I guess what's been going on?" Spikecrash asked. "You've been so focused on a cure in their future, you've ignored how they are in the present. When's the last time you talked to them about something, anything but their health? Have you talked to Foampaw or Boughpaw at all?" Estherfern glanced from one kit to another. Their faces glowed with holiday glee. Did they ever glow around Estherfern anymore? When was the last time she shared a meal with them?

"Spikecrash," Estherfern muttered, her pride burning her words, "I need you to teach me something."

A short time later, Estherfern approached Thunderpaw and the RippleClan stew. The bounties of the ocean danced in the broth, specially prepared for that oh so exciting celebration. Thunderpaw stared eagerly into the stew while Stormpaw and their mentors talked with other caretakers. She spotted her mother and her eyes grew big and calm, mimicking Estherfern's eternally serene expression. Estherfern's heart did not carry that serenity as she approached her bold daughter.

"Do you need…" Estherfern said hesitantly. She awkwardly sat on her hind legs. She held out one paw, pads down, and angled the other on top of it, claws out. Thunderpaw's eyes sparkled at the sign.

"Help," she whispered as Estherfern quickly returned to a natural position. Thunderpaw made the sign with ease, quickly hopping from her hind legs and back. She ogled Estherfern, her thoughts not caught up to reality.

"I want to spend time with you," Estherfern explained. It felt like someone carved her pelt off, leaving her exposed. "I want to share your stew with you and your littermates." Thunderpaw blinked slowly. It took her so long to reply, Estherfern was about to repeat herself, just in case her pounding heart muffled her words.

"Do you want to learn the sign for littermates while the stew finishes cooking?" Thunderpaw gulped. The tip of her tail twitched wildly as her earlier joy bloomed across her face once more.

"If it means time with you," Estherfern sighed.

(Estherfern: 109, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Troutpool: 36, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Weevilpaw: 10, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Honeybuzz: 23, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Spikecrash: 50, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Sandpaw: 6, male, mediator apprentice, loyal, interested in Clan history)

(Drumtooth: 23, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Thunderpaw: 7, female, caretaker apprentice,

(Stormpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, loves to eat)

(Clammask: 69, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Brightpaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Wolverinepaw: 7, female, warrior apprentice, compassionate, always asking questions)

(Yarrowpaw: 10, female, warrior apprentice, thoughtful, stares at fire)

(Slushpaw: 11, female, mediator apprentice, wise, quick witted, bats at string)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 78

The Clan collectively celebrates Weedfoot as everyone finds a way to move on. Potterypool, Wolfgaze, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw join their littermates in the warrior’s den.

[Image ID: Potterypool, Wolfgaze, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw are adults and graduates. Under Potterypool, it says LEVEL UP! POTTERYPAW → POTTERYPOOL, INSECURE → SNEAKY, LOVES TO SING → GREAT SINGER. Under Wolfgaze, it says LEVEL UP! WOLFPAW → WOLFGAZE, CURIOUS ABOUT STARCLAN → CONNECTION WITH STARCLAN, CONFIDENT WITH WORDS → GOOD SPEAKER. Under Currentsmoke, it says LEVEL UP! CURRENTPAW → CURRENTSMOKE, CONSTANTLY CLIMBING → GOOD CLIMBER, HAS LOTS OF IDEAS → SKILLED TOOLSMITH. Under Yarrowclaw, it says LEVEL UP! YARROWPAW → YARROWCLAW, THOUGHTFUL → COLD, STARES AT FIRE → TALENTED FIRE-STARTER.]

"Wolfgaze… Wolfgaze… Wolfgaze, Wolfgaze, Wolfgaze!"

"I'm still awake, I promise," Wolfgaze yelped, blinking wildly and shaking the exhaustion from her thick fur. Thank StarClan she didn't fall over. She'd claimed a spot on the Resting Place immediately after her ceremony, providing a great vantage over the camp. Yet the lulling waves behind her and the empty, clouded sky above were the perfect recipe for a long nap. Weevilpaw stood with her front paws on the log, her entire body standing straight with excitement.

"Downstar said I could fetch you," Weevilpaw chirped. "You made it! Your codekeeper's vigil! How did it feel?"

"Long," Wolfgaze yawned. She stumbled off the Resting Place, licking her lips. "Where are the others?" Potterypool, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw had been sitting outside the camp the last time Wolfgaze looked. Now the entrance was barren, all thorns, brambles, and stones.

"They already fell back into camp," Weevilpaw chuckled. "Currentsmoke was so tired, I thought he would fall on his face!"

"I'm ready to see my graduation gift," Wolfgaze sighed as Weevilpaw rubbed against her. The tortoiseshell cleric helped her sister into camp, laughing as Wolfgaze's eyes drifted shut. With the sun peeking over the sea, Wolfgaze expected the Clan to set out for the day's patrols, but to her surprise, she found most of RippleClan gathered in the center of camp. Downstar sat on the Shiprock, gazing down at the activities below her. Potterypool, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw stood at the edge of the crowd, trying to see what caught their kin's attention.

"What's going on?" Wolfgaze asked, morning clarity clearing her thoughts. She and Weevilpaw joined the newly graduated cats, who were all largely ignored by the rest of the Clan.

"The artisans are doing something," Yarrowclaw explained.

"I think it has something to do with that big chunk of wood they brought in last night," Currentsmoke pointed out. "Remember? Elmsprout and the artisans pulled the sled out and came back to camp with a huge piece!"

"It was a slow night, Currentsmoke," Potterypool hummed, gently nudging her friend. "I think she remembers." Wolfgaze did not, in fact, remember, but she pretended she did.

Wolfgaze braced herself and squeezed between Splashtuft and Wildclaw. She weaved around her Clanmates until she broke into the center of the circle. Mitespark, Elmsprout, Rabbitjoy, and Rattlepelt stood around a wooden sculpture. Ravenpaw sat near them, listening carefully as Rattlepelt explained what they were doing. They picked at the wood with their claws, their teeth, and a few specialized tools; sharp stone picks that could be wrapped around the paw with leather straps, perfect for detailed work on pottery and woodwork. Elmsprout was the first to notice Wolfgaze.

"Wolfgaze!" she called, gently stepping back from the sculpture. "You finished your vigil! Congratulations! Your sisters made your nest in the warrior's den. I'm certain you'll like their gift."

"What are you doing, though?" Wolfgaze asked.

"Oh, that's right, no one told you," Elmsprout gasped softly. "Mitespark, let her see!" Mitespark carefully pulled her carving pick from the wood's surface and moved to the side. It was a bust, a cat's face from the tip of their ears to their collarbone. They were a smooth-faced cat with round features, shaped almost like a triangle sitting on its tip.

"We debated whether to carve in her stripes or paint them," Rabbitjoy explained, "but I think we're going to paint them."

"Is this someone I'm supposed to recognize?" Wolfgaze asked.

"We carved it from memory," Mitespark admitted, "but imagine gray fur and deep blue eyes…"

"Weedfoot!" Wolfgaze suddenly gasped. "You carved Weedfoot's face?"

"James and Scaleripple are making paint for her," Rattlepelt explained. "We told James he could rest and enjoy the finished product, but I guess he wanted to lend a paw for once."

"But why carve Weedfoot?" Wolfgaze asked, glancing at the crowd. "Why is everyone so excited?"

"A Clan's leader and deputy carry all of us on their backs," Rabbitjoy said, brushing against the newly named codekeeper. "They affect all of us, and we all grieve them when they pass. It's a part of our history fading away. The whole camp was up last night sharing memories of Weedfoot, and Paleseed came up with this idea. We're thinking of doing the same for future leaders and deputies after they pass."

"We'll find a place to store them where the paint won't decay," Rattlepelt promised.

"It will be lovely," Wolfgaze purred. A yawn slipped through her words, despite her efforts to hold it back.

"It will still be here when you wake up," Mitespark laughed. "Go to sleep!" Wolfgaze bowed her head, her exhaustion flooding back with Mitespark's simple order. She moved back through the crowd, who passed along a few more congratulations.

"Wolfgaze!" Billowhaze stepped out of the swarm just as Wolfgaze breached the horde. His whiskers twitched in casual mirth. "Anchovy and I are planning abig battle-training session with Estherfern's litter this evening. You should join us! With all the Spirits of Shadow out there, those five could practice against that stare of yours."

"I'm not sure," Wolfgaze gulped, her ears suddenly growing hot under Billowhaze's charming stare. "It might be too dangerous to leave camp just for a training session. With what happened to Silverpaw…" Silverpaw should have been sitting vigil with Wolfgaze that night. Wolfgaze shouldn't have had to spend those long moments wondering what happened to her sister, what Spirit of Shadow pulled her under, never to be seen again.

"That's why training will be good for them," Billowhaze insisted. "We can even bring Weevilpaw along if that makes you feel better. The Spirits of Shadow wouldn't match claws with our three star-blessed warriors, would they?" Billowhaze winked and turned back to Weedfoot's bust, trying to gaze upon the former deputy's face. Even through the chaos of recent moons and the overpowering desire to sleep, Wolfgaze still felt her heart flutter at Billowhaze's stare.

It seemed her life as a codekeeper was off to a good start.

(Weevilpaw: 13, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfgaze: 13, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, good speaker)

(Yarrowclaw: 13, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

(Currentsmoke: 13, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Potterypool: 13, female, caretaker, sneaky, great singer)

(Elmsprout: 45, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

(Rabbitjoy: 115, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver)

(Mitespark: 20, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)

(Rattlepelt: 61, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Billowhaze: 13, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)

Boughpaw found a forget-me-not flower growing in the frost and decided to keep it.

[Image ID: Boughpaw now wears a forget-me-not flower. Under her, it reads + ACCESSORY: FORGET-ME-NOTS.]

(Boughpaw: 10, female, historian apprentice, righteous, constantly climbing)

While collecting samples of ichor for a banishing ritual with Estherfern, Anchovystrike, and Mosspounce, Foampaw swears she hears Shrewkit crying in the distance. When she and Mosspounce go to investigate, only Mosspounce returns alive with horrified tales of a manykit and a new spirit composed of frost-covered leaves.

[Image ID: Foampaw is a StarClan spirit.]

(Foampaw: 10, female, caretaker apprentice, troublesome, always wandering)

Slushtrail spends time with her family.

[Image ID: Tallowheart, Oilstripe, Slushtrail, Shrewkit, Carnationspeckle, Rattlepelt, and Wildclaw gather together.]

---

Slushtrail knew, as soon as Downstar ordered everyone to stay in camp unless absolutely necessary, Longest Night would truly be a long, long night.

Three torches sat before the main bonfire, separate from the other memorials. A withered dandelion sat in front of the tallest. A silver stone necklace hung from the second. Salt crusted the base of the third, dipped in sea foam. It was a lot like the Longest Night Slushtrail remembered from her kithood. The artisans danced and sang, the historians told stories, the caretakers prepared a late night meal. The fire still roared against the never-ending night, a refusal to bow to the cold and decay. Slushtrail could tell, however, that it hurt some of her Clanmates to keep up the fight. Estherfern ranted to her remaining kits, relaying all she had learned in those last few moons about the Spirits of Shadow and their dangers. Mosspounce laughed a bit too loud at one of Lemmy's comments. Lavendertwist sang just loud enough to hurt Slushtrail's ears. Rattlepelt fought to keep Ravenpaw's attention, trying to demonstrate a special dance. RippleClan was clawing at the edge of a cliff, trying to pull themselves back up, unable to think anything but "it will be okay" when their hearts spoke the opposite.

Honeybuzz brushed his tail against Estherfern's shoulder mid-rant. She paused, and Slushtrail could see Estherfern's breath catch and fog around her. She touched her nose to each of her kits and followed Honeybuzz to the side, where Troutpool and Weevilpaw waited. Slushtrail couldn't hear them, but they sat close and carried torches in their eyes. Best to leave them be for now.

The rest of Slushtrail's family sat in front of the nursery. Tallowheart worked with Oilstripe on an old story; a great war between WheatClan and SlugClan and a friendship that healed their wounds. Carnationspeckle listened closely with Rattlepelt and Wildclaw while Shrewkit hid under Rattlepelt's fox pelt, shivering. With one more look over the rest of the Clan, Slushtrail joined her mothers and siblings.

"How do you like Longest Night, Shrewkit?" Slushtrail asked.

"I don't like the cold," he huffed, pulling his face under the fox pelt. "My mom's probably freezing her flank off tonight."

"I'm sure wherever your birth mother is," Carnationspeckle sighed, lifting the kit's cover away, "she's just happy you're growing up somewhere safe and warm. Can I warm you up?" Shrewkit nodded and crawled closer to his grandmother. Carnationspeckle licked Shrewkit's fur the wrong way, warming his blood.

"So can leaders really give cats whole new names?" Shrewkit asked, turning to Tallowheart and Oilstripe. "Like the warrior in your story?"

"I'm a living example of that!" Wildclaw chirped, gently bunting her son. "Have we told you I used to called Graythroat? Downstar gave me a new name because of how fiercely I defend RippleClan."

"More like because you have a death wish," Oilstripe chuckled. Tallowheart hid a snicker.

"I've outgrown it!" Wildclaw insisted with a laugh.

"Mostly," Rattlepelt hummed, rolling her eyes. Wildclaw batted her mate's muzzle, and Shrewkit laughed.

"Well I never want to lose my name," Shrewkit declared. "My mom named me Shrew, and that's who I'll be, forever. The kit part is extra." When he sat taller, he nearly head-butted Carnationspeckle's jaw into her skull.

"It works well for you," Slushtrail purred.

And for that night, everything was alright.

(Slushtrail: 14, female, mediator, wise, clever, talented weaver)

(Shrewkit: 2, male, kit, bossy, never sits still)

(Carnationspeckle: 80, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Wildclaw: 70, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Oilstripe: 82, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Rattlepelt: 61, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Tallowheart: 14, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

Troutpool hopes Trumpetspore notices her.

[Image ID: Troutpool stares at Trumpetspore.]

---

Troutpool stared at Trumpetspore from the medicine den as Trumpetspore and Brightpaw showed Shrewkit how to perform a hunter's crouch. There wasn't a lot of room to practice, since almost everyone was in camp, safe under the divine protection Troutpool and her peers summoned. It was the same protective ritual they performed during Harvest Moon. The clerics could only pray it would guard the Clan long enough for them to strike back against the Spirits of Shadow. Yet despite her chronic fear of them, Trumpetspore proved more confident in Troutpool's rituals than the cream cleric was.

"Keep your flank a little lower," Trumpetspore said, nudging Shrewkit's high flank down. "You're doing well." Troutpool didn't care if others laughed at Trumpetspore's nervousness or groaned at her panic. There was a keen-eyed warrior under that blanket of anxiety; a warrior Troutpool wanted to know more. Troutpool's eyes softened as she watched the black warrior move with such ease between Shrewkit and Brightpaw, eager to train despite the danger.

"You're staring." Troutpool startled a bit. Scaleripple stood outside the den, expressionless. He held a paw to his chest. A large thorn jutted out from his pads.

"I was just marveling at how well Shrewkit's adapted to Clan life," Troutpool stammered with a lick of her chest. "Here, that thorn looks awful, I'll help you get it out." That was obviously why Scaleripple was there, why did Troutpool have to say it like that?

Troutpool led Scaleripple into the shadow of the den. She grabbed a few cobwebs from the shelves (no need to waste a bandage on a simple thorn). She held Scaleripple's paw out and gripped the thorn between her teeth.

"You were staring at Trumpetspore," Scaleripple said right as Troutpool ripped the thorn out of his paw. Scaleripple hissed and licked the fresh flowing blood. Troutpool moved his paw back down and placed cobwebs on the small wound.

"Stay here for a while, and keep your paw off the sand," Troutpool said. "I'll take the cobwebs off soon. A wound that size will close quickly." Troutpool licked a strand of cobweb off her paws. Scaleripple stared at her, barely blinking. Did he want to talk about Trumpetspore? Well, if he did, he could just ask. Troutpool had no reason to be embarrassed by it. "You know Trumpetspore well. If I were to ask her on a date—"

"No," Scaleripple said so suddenly that Troutpool once again startled. They both stared at each other, one confused, the other certain in an unknowable, detached way. No? What did Scaleripple mean by 'no'? He wasn't Trumpetspore's mentor. Troutpool didn't need his permission! She must not have been able to hide her thoughts as well as Scaleripple did, for the gold and white warrior continued. "You told Trumpetspore her littermate was an omen. Why would she be your mate?"

"Scaleripple," Troutpool huffed, finding what little confidence she possessed and hardening her voice. "I only reported StarClan's sign. I didn't want to make Tempestshade's life hard. I revealed it at their trial because I didn't want them to be found guilty of murder."

"Instead you made everyone avoid them," Scaleripple said. He glanced at his bandaged paw with a soft huff. He tore off the red-stained cobweb and spat the wad onto the middle of the floor. "So, no. You don't get to ask Trumpetspore on a date. You don't deserve that." Scaleripple licked his paw once more and walked out of the den. It didn't seem to matter that he left Troutpool spinning, a dormant pressure rising in her chest. No, Scaleripple sauntered back into the packed clearing like nothing had happened.

According to him, nothing else should happen.

(Troutpool: 39, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Trumpetspore: 39, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

(Scaleripple: 31, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

RippleClan prepares a ritual to fight back against the Spirit hordes.

[Image ID: Troutpool, Honeybuzz, and Weevilpaw stand in a circle around Estherfern. Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, Oilstripe, and Scaleripple watch from the sides.]

---

In Estherfern's faith, there was her God, who did His best to watch over her home, but there were also the Six Predators. The Wolf, The Fox, The Owl, The Hawk, The Rat, The Cougar. These vengeful, vindictive deities loved to toy with catkind, so Estherfern's home developed a dozen ways to combat their influence. Somewhere in the back of her heart, Estherfern wondered if they were the ones who tormented the souls of the Dark Forest, who gave birth to the Spirits of Shadow. Maybe they were the ones to kill Foampaw. Maybe they were laughing somewhere, saying "Look at Esther. Stepping above her station, making friends with the damned. Shouldn't she have known better? It's so fun to watch her destroy her family."

That night, Estherfern would spit in the faces of the Six Predators, of the Spirits of Shadow, of everything supernatural that roamed her new home, because no one got away with hurting her kits. Not even her.

"Estherfern, we don't have to tell anyone," Honeybuzz whispered as the procession trailed toward the beach. Honeybuzz and Estherfern kept to the back of the group, carrying baskets of supplies. Troutpool walked inside a circle composed of Weevilpaw, Anchovystrike, and Wolfgaze. Oilstripe and Scaleripple kept a sharp eye for strange shadows, ready to fight and protect the untrained clerics.

"What sort of justice would that be?" Estherfern huffed.

"The sort that keeps the peace," Honeybuzz said.

"Peace built on lies is no peace at all," Estherfern sighed. "When this is done… we're telling the Clan. May your ancestors and my God forgive me." Estherfern stared at the clouded sky. If StarClan was as strong as her Clanmates claimed, their presence would not be dulled by simple clouds hiding Silverpelt from view.

As the patrol approached the beach, it began to snow. Flakes danced on Estherfern's nose. Wolfgaze rubbed her fluffy pelt against her sister's thin fur as Weevilpaw shivered. Honeybuzz ran into the thicker circle of cats, quietly begging for extra warmth. Estherfern soaked in the cold. The cold meant she was alive. She was free. It was this freedom she sought to protect ever since she escaped the cat-minded human. Yet in seeing her kits as imprisoned in their bodies, had she not denied them freedom? Whenever she spoke with Wolverinepaw, the long-furred duplicate of Estherfern still stared a bit too hard. Thunderpaw still didn't ask Estherfern to repeat herself if she didn't catch what she said. Brightpaw squirmed in Estherfern's company, and Boughpaw stayed silent, forgotten in her normalcy. The truth would be the only thing that could fix their bonds, even if it destroyed them in the process.

"This is the place," Troutpool finally said. The patrol stood where the river met the ocean, dissolving into branches. Sand melted into mud and clay. A salt pool sat in the sand, the artisan's precious system to separate out the water and harvest the pure white crystals. The sea was nothing more than churning shadow. Estherfern and Honeybuzz set their baskets down.

"StarClan is watching," Oilstripe whispered, head spinning. "There are so many cats. I see Mousesong, and Weedfoot, Silverpaw… Estherfern, Foampaw is here." Estherfern steadied herself. She swallowed the rock in her throat.

"This is for you, Silverpaw!" Wolfgaze called into the dark, still pressed against Weevilpaw.

"They aren't saying anything," Oilstripe said. "I think they're just bearing witness."

"Foampaw, forgive me," Estherfern whispered.

"Oilstripe, Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, Scaleripple," Honeybuzz said, taking dry mushrooms out of his basket, "you'll patrol around us while we work. Anchovystrike, how do we look?"

"There's ichor everywhere," Anchovystrike groaned, sneering at the sand. "The spirits roam the entire territory."

"It shouldn't be hard to draw them in," Weevilpaw huffed, standing taller. "I'll call out if I predict any of them attacking."

"This will take some time, so stay alert," Honeybuzz said. "Weevilpaw, help me build this side of the circle. Troutpool, Estherfern, take the other half." Estherfern gently grabbed a mouthful of mushrooms, which grew damp in the snow, and started on her side of the circle.

The circle would be far bigger than the one in Estherfern's cursed den. Yes, it was similar to that original circle, composed of the same mushrooms that connected the living world to the Dark Forest. Yet here, the design was not based on those damned traditions, but Estherfern's faith. While the mushrooms formed the curves of the circle, rather than filling the interior with an herbal sludge, Estherfern's basket held a purer replacement; the spirit-rebelling charms from Harvest Moon. In Estherfern's home, the charms would have had the gentle face of God, with tufts of fur representing each of the Six Predators replacing the mushrooms.

"Is this safe?" Scaleripple asked. He sat in the branches of a chokecherry, carefully watching the shore.

"We're summoning Spirits of Shadow and sending them back to the Dark Forest," Weevilpaw scoffed as she set down a few more charms. "There's a lot of risk involved here. But it's what we have to do if we have any hope to get rid of them all."

"I don't mean the spirits," Scaleripple said softly. "These gods that Estherfern fears… are they real?"

"Of course they are," Estherfern snapped, almost knocking a mushroom out of its place. "They may not dwell over your lands, but they dwell over mine."

"What if we summon both the spirits…" Scaleripple said, "and your Predators?" Estherfern's paw clenched over a charm. Was the white-speckled warrior right? Estherfern knew so many tales of the Six Predators and the way they destroyed lives. They did not need to feed, they did not have that excuse for their mayhem. It was fun for them. They spread their domains with no care for each other or any living creature. Was Estherfern repeating her earlier mistakes? Was she, in her effort to fix one problem, inviting something far worse?

"Esther," Honeybuzz said. He met Estherfern's eyes from the other side of the circle. He set the last mushroom in its place. "It's our best option. There are too many." Estherfern nodded. She settled the last of her charms in the circle and turned to Troutpool. The head cleric nodded in return.

"Everyone, stay back, and stay quiet," Troutpool called as Estherfern stepped into the circle. "Honeybuzz, Weevilpaw, are you ready?"

"I'm not a very good singer," Weevilpaw chuckled. She rubbed snow out of her eyes and settled at the edge of the circle.

"You don't have to be," Estherfern said. "Just say the names clearly."

"I've never heard names like these," Troutpool muttered, tucking her tail over her paws.

"You wouldn't have," Estherfern said with a flick of an ear.

Weevilpaw, Honeybuzz, and Troutpool sat equal distance from one another, poised outside the circle. Scaleripple jumped out of the tree and joined Oilstripe. Wolfgaze and Anchovystrike lingered near Weevilpaw. Snow dusted the mushrooms and charms.

"The ichor isn't happy, I can already tell," Anchovystrike muttered. Wolfgaze put her tail to his muzzle.

"Predators of the Great Glowing Lands," Estherfern yowled into the snowy night. "We bind you to this place with your true names!" The four clerics closed their eyes. The song came naturally to Estherfern, embedded into her very being. It wasn't hard to teach it to her compatriots.

Luponthoth

Vulpo Thun

Strigart

But-oro

Rapendazera

Punai'kema

The gentle voices of the clerics rose through the snow in a soft, yet tense melody, like bird song. Estherfern dropped out of the song and opened her eyes. Oilstripe and Anchovystrike's hackles rose, their heads bouncing to sights only they could see.

As Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw carried on the song, Estherfern yowled, "We know of your appetites! We know of your boredom! This land is filled with wicked spirits! We have formed their path to safety, and they'll think they can escape. Have fun!"

The cleric's song cut off as a violent gush of wind battered their voices, flinging snow into their eyes. Wolfgaze yowled, bracing herself against Anchovystrike. The leaves that decorated Oilstripe's pelt flew off. Estherfern's heart raced as the snow bit her nose. Yet a few moments later, the wind receded. Estherfern breathed deep. Scaleripple shook out his pelt while Honeybuzz shivered. The humming ocean made Estherfern's ears ring.

"Stay where you are," Estherfern warned her companions. Her fur spiked when a sudden realization washed over her. "Anchovystrike, close your eyes."

"Why?" Anchovystrike asked.

"Foxdung!" Weevilpaw suddenly cried, jumping with her back arched. "They're… from the forest! Watch out!"

"Anchovystrike," Estherfern yowled as something tumbled through the trees, "you see the unseen influence of the supernatural. If you see the Predators as they really are, you will go mad! Now close your eyes!" Anchovystrike obeyed just in time.

Terrified howls echoed through the forest. Black sludge dripped from the grass onto the sand. It tumbled faster and faster like a newly formed river, racing toward the circle. Oilstripe and Scaleripple scrambled back as the ichor slammed into the circle. It launched at Estherfern with a steaming, bubbling sound. Estherfern held her ground. The ichor plunged into the sand around her like a fox leaping into snow. It stained the sand black and burrowed deep, deep, deep.

Then the monsters came. They howled and shrieked and cauterwauled, running through the trees as fast as they could. There were darkhounds, thundering along with massive paws and bloody jaws, yipping like pups. There was forsaken prey, decayed and rotten yet moving and squealing just as they did in their final moments. Leatherwaste flopped and flew about, and something new, something without a proper name, some storm-spun bundle of dull brown leaves and glistening frost, slithered toward the circle.

"Stay down!" Weevilpaw yowled, belly dropping to the sand. All except Estherfern mimicked the cleric apprentice. The Spirits of Shadow raced alongside the trail of ichor and into the circle. They dug and clawed at the sand, following their lifeblood back into the depths. But they were the lucky ones.

Estherfern could not see them, but she could see their power unfold. Unseen talons snatched spirits by their backs and flung them into the sky. Eager, invisible jaws snapped and bit into the sticky flesh of the spirits. Something dragged unlucky spirits into the shadows, screaming. They sank into the earth before they reached the circle. They dissolved into steaming piles of ichor with torturous wails.

The world went white. The loudest, strongest clap of thunder Estherfern had ever heard reverberated through her skeleton and stayed singing in her ears. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear. Her skin buzzed. In a moment of clarity tucked within the chaos, Estherfern wondered if this is what her kits felt. A path without sight, without sound, heart pushing out of your chest, is a blessing compared to the fate that awaits the rot.

It took some time for Estherfern's vision to clear. She and her Clanmates were still standing, unharmed. The ichor and spirits were gone. There was no sign they had been there at all, save for a few mushrooms missing from the circle. The other cats groaned, rubbing their ears and eyes. They were alive. The spirits had left RippleClan.

Something drew Estherfern's gaze up. Clear shapes formed within the clouds, backed by a pale glow. Each cloud looked perfectly like its subject; a wolf, a fox, an owl, a hawk, a rat, and a cougar. Where their eyes would have been were balls of lightning, sparking and dancing, glaring down at the Clans in hunger.

The creatures of the glowing sky do not rule this land, but visitors cannot be denied. The stars shall extend their power, and the beasts shall fill their bellies. So it has been for you, so it shall be for all.

"Foampaw?" Estherfern gulped, barely capable of hearing herself.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Anchovystrike gulped. He still had his paws over his face.

"They're gone!" Weevilpaw cried. She ran into the circle and plowed into Estherfern. The old molly looked back to the clouds, but they were now a simple sheet of gray against black. Honeybuzz and Troutpool joined them, pressing against Estherfern.

"Is StarClan still watching over us?" Wolfgaze asked, hopping into the circle.

"They left when the ritual began," Oilstripe stammered, staring across the river, "but they've returned. They're watching from afar. I can't tell what they're thinking."

"They're on our side," Honeybuzz promised, waving the others into the circle. "I petitioned them myself at the last half-moon. We wouldn't have done this if StarClan disapproved."

"They may not have disapproved," Estherfern muttered, "but that does not mean they are proud."

"I think they are!" Troutpool chirped. "It was scary, but we've banished the spirits. We can walk our lands freely again. We wouldn't have saved the Clan without you, Estherfern." Troutpool nuzzled Estherfern, but the old molly still stared at the clouds.

"I don't understand you, StarClan," she whispered, not caring whether the cats pressed into her overheard. "You ask my God to send me here, you stand by while I summon your enemies, you allow me to draw the gaze of something far worse on your descendants. Why?" The stars shall extend their power… the voice in Estherfern's head had been as clear as when Foampaw last stood by Estherfern's side. Was it somehow better for the Clans to attract the attention of the Six Predators? Was it an earnest decision, made for the betterment of the five Clans? Did StarClan desire more power, more control, more souls?

Estherfern sighed. She would find no answers that night. She would be the one providing answers soon enough.

(Estherfern: 112, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Honeybuzz: 26, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Troutpool: 39, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Oilstripe: 82, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Wolfgaze: 13, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, good speaker)

(Anchovystrike: 13, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Weevilpaw: 13, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Scaleripple: 31, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Foampaw: 10, female, caretaker apprentice, troublesome, always wandering)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 77

While Mosspounce’s bruises heal, the broken bone takes one of Downstar’s lives.

[Image ID: Mosspounce and Downstar are healed. Under Mosspounce, it says - CONDITION: BRUISES. Under Downstar, it says - CONDITION: BROKEN BONE, LIVES LEFT: 2.]

(Mosspounce: 38, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Downstar: 136, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

A rogue asks the Clan to care for their son, Shrew, now that he is weaned.

[Image ID: Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Waspdawn find a red kit. Under the three of them, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING. Under the kit, it says NEW PLAYER: SHREWKIT, 1, MALE, BOSSY, NEVER SITS STILL.]

---

There were no safe patrols anymore. In Oilstripe’s mind, she could see what Anchovypaw reported every time he returned from patrol; black ichor smearing the grass and trees, the spiritual residue of monsters that lurked in the corner of your eye. Everyone knew that was why Silverpaw never returned to camp. Perhaps it was also why Oilstripe never saw the young molly’s spirit. Troutpool’s dreams simply told her Silverpaw had made it to the stars… eventually. That was why no apprentice could leave camp alone. That was why even the senior warriors asked for a few extra eyes to accompany them, even when not on patrol.

Today, Oilstripe had Carnationspeckle and Waspdawn to watch her back as they marked their borders. Haunted or not, RippleClan couldn’t give Gentlestar or Eelstar any ideas about expanding their territory in RippleClan’s time of crisis. They patrolled along AshClan's border first, spreading their scent wherever it smelled weak.

"Do you think anyone over there mourned for Weedfoot?" Carnationspeckle asked as Waspdawn finished marking a tree that sat right on the border.

"I'm sure of it," Oilstripe huffed.

"She saved their flanks," Waspdawn muttered, rejoining the couple. "They should be honored my mother deigned to help them." Deep within AshClan territory, the spirit of one of their warriors strolled through the trees. Even though they ignored Oilstripe, she felt the need to dip her head to the StarClan warrior. They could have killed one of the Ashes in the Water, for all she knew, but it felt right. It felt like the sort of diplomacy a deputy should show the former members of a different Clan.

"Who's that?" Carnationspeckle asked, her gaze following Oilstripe's. The ginger molly startled. Did her mate see the spirit too? But then Waspdawn's focus settled on something within the trees. Oilstripe's shock faded when a tortoiseshell, a living tortoiseshell, walked through the StarClan ghost. She carried a bright red kit in her jaws. The kit had a sharp blaze of white on his forehead that reminded Oilstripe of a star, or a half-moon set against a sunset. Oilstripe didn't recognize the tortoiseshell, but she knew her escorts. Barkfur walked beside the tortoiseshell, with Heronflank and newly graduated warrior Fernwhisper behind them.

"Ah, Deputy Oilstripe," Barkfur sighed as he approached the border. "Good, good. It's better we don't wait around."

"Who's this little tom?" Carnationspeckle purred, sniffing the red kitten.

"I'm Shrew," the kitten declared, wiggling as much as he could with his scruff in his mother's mouth. "Mom, let me go!" Shrew's mother obliged, placing her son at her paws. Shrew immediately tried to race off, but his mother hooked a paw around him.

"You're not an AshClan cat," Waspdawn noted.

"I hail from the northwest," the queen explained. "I… I've heard stories that the Clans take in kits whose mothers can't care for them."

"We…" Carnationspeckle said, blinking rapidly as she processed what the queen wanted. "We do. My daughter was one of those kits."

"We found her wandering our territory," Barkfur said. "We explained to her that AshClan isn't taking in cats from outside the Clan, but that RippleClan may be more open to assisting her."

"And we will, if that's what you want," Waspdawn said, dipping his head to the queen. "But.. why can't you care for Shrew?"

"He's the last of his litter," the queen sighed as Shrew, oblivious to the adults around him, nipped at his mother's grasp. "They all fell ill, I'm worried it's in their blood. I thought Clan medicine could help my son."

"He seems healthy to me," Carnationspeckle hummed. Shrew finally broke away from his mother and tumbled across the border. He chomped onto Oilstripe's leg with sharp kitten teeth. Oilstripe yelped and batted the excitable kit off.

"Very healthy," Waspdawn chuckled.

"So did his siblings," the queen gulped.

"You don't have to give him away," Oilstripe explained as Shrew gawked at Waspdawn's half-tail. "You can join RippleClan as well. We've accepted a few mothers in your position."

"I can't," the queen whined, flinching. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm destined for the Other Side. I don't belong here. I waited until he, he, he was weaned, but… this is better. He deserves better than me." The queen looked to Barkfur and sighed, "I'm ready to go now."

"RippleClan will treat your son well," Barkfur promised. "We'll escort you to the river." He nodded to Heronflank and Fernwhisper, ready to depart.

"That's it?" Oilstripe huffed as Shrew finally paid attention to his mother. "No, you… you should tell your son something."

"Tell me what?" Shrew cocked his head. The queen stared back, her posture stiff. She swallowed hard. She kept opening her mouth, ready to explain, but she lost her courage each time.

"I'll see you in a while, Shrew," she finally croaked. She spun around before she could falter. Heronflank and Fernwhisper led Barkfur and the queen through the thick blankets of golden needles, under the gray-speckled leaves that clung to the trees, refusing to acknowledge the coming winter.

"You didn't give us your name!" Carnationspeckle suddenly yowled. Yet the queen didn't turn back. Her escort led her farther and farther from her only remaining kit.

"I know her name," Shrew huffed. "It's Mom."

A short while later, Shrew sat in the nursery while Troutpool put her nose in his ear, checking for fever. Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Downstar sat around her, waiting for a diagnosis. Shrew laughed when Troutpool pulled her nose out. He itched his ear and ogled the Clan's vast medicine stores.

"He needs a better diet," Troutpool sighed, "but he's a healthy young tom. I don't see any signs of disease."

"Could his mother have lied about his littermates?" Downstar asked Oilstripe. "Perhaps she just wanted an excuse to give her child away."

"Why don't you ask her?" Shrew shot back, a tiny paw reaching for a pot. "She said she's coming back." Troutpool gently shoved his paw away.

"He doesn't understand," Carnationspeckle whispered. "I think he's too young."

"We could have Paleseed explain things to him," Downstar suggested.

"Maybe we let him believe that until he's settled into RippleClan," Carnationspeckle said.

"Mom?" Rattlepelt and Wildclaw trotted to the medicine den, peering around the older mollies. Leaves clung to Rattlepelt's fox pelt, mixing with the carefully woven lavender. Wildclaw crouched and scanned under Downstar's legs.

"Hi, Rattlepelt," Carnationspeckle purred, absent-mindedly touching her daughter's nose before turning back to Shrew. "We're a little busy right now. Can we talk later?"

"Halibut told us about the kit," Wildclaw huffed. "Rattlepelt insisted we meet him."

"That's a bit of a bold word," Rattlepelt chuckled. "I just suggested we stop by the medicine den."

"What are you?" Shrew gaped at Rattlepelt with giant blue eyes. There was no fear in his stare, like when a new apprentice met Rattlepelt at a Gathering and Oilstripe had to hide their shock from her adopted daughter. His gaze was more like emerging from the darkest level of the ocean into the sun.

"I'm a cat," Rattlepelt laughed. She squeezed around Carnationspeckle and sat next to Shrew. "My name is Rattlepelt, and this is my mate, Wildclaw." Shrew put his paws on Rattlepelt's fox pelt and his eyes grew bigger. He shoved his face into the red fur, purring.

"You're so soft!" Shrew gasped.

"Why don't you play with it?" Rattlepelt suggested. "Just be very careful." Rattlepelt slipped off her fox pelt and laid it in front of Shrew.

"You can take your fur off?" Shrew squealed. While that idea would have disturbed Oilstripe at Shrew's age, the little kit simply dove into the leather pelt, rolling in the well-groomed fur. Wildclaw laughed, and even Downstar managed to chuckle.

"I heard your mother asked us to take care of you," Rattlepelt said, laying beside Shrew. "My mother did the same thing when I was a kit. It was a little scary, but I'm glad she gave me up. I got Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe as my new mothers, and I'm very happy in RippleClan."

"You can have more than one mom?" Shrew sat up, the fox's tail covering his face.

"You can," Rattlepelt purred. She gazed tenderly at Shrew as he sniffed the fox pelt's lavender accents. She turned to Wildclaw, beckoning her inside. Wildclaw sat by her mate, similarly entranced by the little red kitten.

"You know, Shrew," Wildclaw purred, "now that you're staying with us, you'll get to sleep in the nursery. We don't want you to be lonely in there. If you want, Rattlepelt and I can move in with you. You can share a nest with us."

"Can I sleep with this?" Shrew asked, his teeth digging into the fox pelt.

"You can," Rattlepelt laughed, voice catching. She turned to Wildclaw, whispering, "Are you sure you want this? I don't want to hurt him."

"When it's just you in there," Wildclaw chuckled, gently batting Rattlepelt's head, "you'd die before you hurt a kit. You'll be great." Wildclaw and Rattlepelt snuggled against each other.

"Congratulations," Troutpool chirped, bunting her older sister. "Oh, I get to be an aunt! I'll make sure there's a nest ready for you." She squirmed around the other mollies and hurried to the nursery, squealing like a kit.

"Welcome to grandmotherhood, you two," Downstar chuckled, playfully nudging Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle.

"My heart was not ready for this," Oilstripe laughed awkwardly, trying to breathe.

"Shrew, from now on, you can call me Grandma," Carnationspeckle declared, diving to Shrew's level.

"I will!" Shrew chirped, utterly unaware of the implications. Carnationspeckle squealed and pressed against Rattlepelt with a deep purr. Oilstripe joined the family gathering, her heart expanding to make way for her bright, enthusiastic grandson.

(Oilstripe: 81, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 79, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Waspdawn: 43, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Shrewkit: 1, male, kit, bossy, never sits still)

(Troutpool: 38, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Downstar: 136, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Rattlepelt: 60, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Wildclaw: 69, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

Moontide, Vervaincough, Anchovystrike, and Billowhaze graduate from their apprenticeships together.

[Image ID: Moontide, Vervaincough, Anchovystrike, and Billowhaze are all grown up! Under Moontide, it says LEVEL UP! MOONPAW → MOONTIDE, QUICK TO HELP → EXCELLENT TEACHER. Under Vervaincough, it says LEVEL UP! VERVAINPAW → VERVAINCOUGH, BLOODTHIRSTY → INSECURE, LOVES NATURE → UNDERSTANDS NATURE, QUICK TO MAKE PEACE → GOOD MEDIATOR. Under Anchovystrike, it says LEVEL UP! ANCHOVYPAW → ANCHOVYSTRIKE, CURIOUS ABOUT STARCLAN → DEEP STARCLAN BOND. Under Billowhaze, it says LEVEL UP! BILLOWPAW → BILLOWHAZE, THOUGHTFUL → LOYAL, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GOOD KITSITTER.]

(Moontide: 12, female, warrior, playful, excellent teacher)

(Vervaincough: 12, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

(Anchovystrike: 12, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Billowhaze: 12, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)

During their assessments, Currentpaw and Yarrowpaw find a former kittypet/Witch Hunter interested in joining the Clan. He takes on the name Venturedapple and becomes a codekeeper.

[Image ID: Currentpaw and Yarrowpaw stare at a long-furred brown and white tom. Under the tom, it says NEW PLAYER: VENTUREDAPPLE, 65, MALE, COLD, ELOQUENT SPEAKER.]

(Currentpaw: 12, male, caretaker, loving, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas)

(Yarrowpaw: 12, female, warrior apprentice, thoughtful, stares at fire)

(Venturedapple: 65, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 89, Part 1

Potterypool went missing for a few days. Her body is eventually found in the territory.

[Image ID: Moontide runs toward something offscreen, with Shrewflame, Thundergale, and Yarrowclaw behind her. Shrewflame yowls, "Moontide, don't touch her!" Under Thundergale it reads LEVEL UP! GOOD HUNTER → GREAT HUNTER. Under Yarrowclaw, it reads LEVEL UP! TALENTED FIRE-STARTER → FIRE MASTER.]

Shrewflame was a sprinter, but when he couldn't smell the ocean, the forest provided him security over the open southern reaches, despite the many obstacles in his way. In some ways, the obstacles were better. They were a challenge, allowing Shrewflame to launch himself from rock to rock, tree to tree, flying through the land with the speed of a peregrine falcon. Limp leaves flew out behind him, spooking the occasional squirrel. Shrewflame laughed as a cold wind stunned his cheeks.

Yarrowclaw, Thundergale, and Moontide sat around a particularly scratched-up grouping of pines. The caretakers loved to climb the low-hanging branches, as it was easy to collect bark and wood for the clerics and artisans. It was also a go-to spot to rake your claws down the trunks, leaving permanent gouges in the bark. Thundergale scratched at the tree while Moontide and Yarrowclaw chatted, nested in the fallen needles. Shrewflame burst into the scene, skidding through the leaves with another hearty laugh.

"Sorry if I'm late!" Shrewflame chirped. "I was helping Whitekit settle on training for later this moon. He wants to be a historian."

"Good for him," Thundergale said a bit too loud. Her words were muffled as though talking with her mouth full. Shrewflame bit down the slight disappointment that bubbled with his mentor's words. The spoken word no longer sounded as clear to Thundergale, it seemed. How long would it be until Thundergale could never hear Shrewflame's laugh or the hum of bird song again? She would be alright, she would still be happy, she wouldn't even lose her stride in the growth of her new role (so many cats asked for lessons that Lettucestar asked for one of the teachers to stay in SlugClan for a time and share their new ways). Still, a loss like that could still be mourned. Shrewflame stopped himself from making a mouse-brained comment about Thundergale's voice and instead settled beside Moontide.

"We were just chatting with Yarrowclaw," Moontide explained. Shrewflame's enthusiasm sombered even more with Moontide's monotone. It was clear what was on her mind. Potterypool had left camp a couple days prior, but had not returned that night. Should Shrewflame comfort Moontide? Despite her switch to the teacher position, Shrewflame didn't know her well. He may have learned the basics of mediation from Spikecrash and Paleseed, but he was far from sweet-tongued.

"I'll tell you what I told these two," Yarrowclaw sighed, flicking her ears at the mollies. Shrewflame quickly took up translating for Thundergale on instinct. "If all we talk about is day-night cycling, I'm going back to camp."

"That's only part of what we could learn from you," Thundergale signed, with Shrewflame translating back for Yarrowclaw. Thundergale hopped away from the tree and stood beside Moontide. "Yes, as one of the few cats in recent Clan history with this condition, we want to learn about it so if others have questions, they don't have to interrogate you. But you're a great fighter, and I've never seen anyone sneak up on you. Every member of the Clan has a lot they can teach future generations. If we're going to learn from any of our Clanmates first, you're the one I want to hear from."

"So you want me to talk about myself?" Yarrowclaw asked. Thundergale nodded eagerly. Yarrowclaw sighed and sat up, stretching her flank high. "If that's how I'm spending my afternoon, we aren't going to just sit here. I want to check on the river near the SlugClan border. Come with me and I'll answer your questions."

"But—" Shrewflame huffed, not able to finish translating Yarrowclaw's answer. Yet Thundergale put her tail on Shrewflame's shoulder.

"You can tell me what I miss later," Thundergale said, shaking her head. Shrewflame tensed, but he nodded anyway. Yarrowclaw led the three teachers north, one ear turned back to them.

The sun shone behind a thick layer of light gray clouds, a reflection of Shrewflame's suddenly smothered mood. He pretended otherwise, however, constantly running ahead of Yarrowclaw before "remembering" what he was supposed to do and jogging back. Even the mice seemed to force their mood, skittering in the distant leaves rather than hide from the four fierce hunters. With Thundergale unable to keep up with the conversation and Moontide as quiet as the moon itself, it felt like Shrewflame was talking to himself. He bounced against Thundergale's initial interests and groomed his questions toward Yarrowclaw's supposed specialities.

Usually, Shrewflame would love to hear how Yarrowclaw learned to hunt without a sense of depth, how she honed her senses, how the mediators taught her to harness her day cycles in a healthy way. Yet it didn't feel right. Thundergale couldn't participate, Moontide wasn't engaged, and Shrewflame found himself missing his little brother. Whitekit was hilarious! It helped that he looked at Shrewflame like the sun, but maybe Whitekit could have made Yarrowclaw laugh or loosened her mouth with his unique, cautious charm. At this point, Shrewflame should have just joined a border patrol.

"I'll tell you what I told Wolverineheart as a kit," Yarrowclaw sighed as the Great Northern River came into view. "I have my nose. I have my ears. I can feel the wind on my whiskers and pawsteps through the ground. I can get by with one bad eye."

"Good to know," Shrewflame said, glancing between Moontide and Thundergale. "Well, um, we're at the river! Do we want to rest by the water for a bit?"

"Dog," Thundergale suddenly gulped, gaze locked on the other side of the river. Moontide, Yarrowclaw, and Shrewflame stiffened. They gazed over the gray river, whose white foam caught what light leaked through the clouds. The tanning grass rippled in the wind, which carried the dangerous scent to the patrol. Heavy paws scrambled through the fading undergrowth. The dog's golden brown pelt melted against the dying leaves as it burst into view. One of its floppy ears was stuck inside-out and its tongue dangled out of its loose lips. The brown-eyed beast turned back toward the trees, wagging its tail wildly. Shrewflame couldn't see its human yet, but he heard them cracking leaves underfoot.

Shrewflame had never seen a dog so close before, but the sight still made his back arch. He grew up with his mothers' stories; Wildclaw and her various confrontations with overeager pups, Rattlepelt and her near-death experience with the darkhound that took Mousesong, the aunt Shrewflame never knew. All of Shrewflame's lessons and the scars sported by his Clanmates taught him never to underestimate a dog, especially one that hunted alongside a human.

"The dog seems well-taught," Moontide noted softly, signing quickly. "I don't think it will cross the river unless its human does, and Venturedapple says humans hate wading through water."

"I'll keep my eye on it," Yarrowclaw promised, dead eye facing the three teachers as Yarrowclaw glared across the border.

The dog sniffed at the grass lining the river, uninterested in the cats beyond. Its nose led it between a pine and a fir, where recently disturbed dirt protruded in a mound. The dog lunged at the mound like a kit pouncing on a leaf. Its thick paws dug rapidly. Dirt flew into the river and floated toward the sea. The smell of decay brushed Shrewflame's nose. The human emerged from the trees with a swift bark. The dog bounced back, thoughtless eyes gazing joyfully up at its master. Though the human's misshapen paw rubbed the dog's head, their attention lingered on the mound. Whatever the human saw, Shrewflame couldn't make it out from his position.

"That smell," Moontide gulped, eyes as big as her namesake. Shrewflame didn't know what she meant as the human crouched by the mound. They brushed aside loose dirt and continued some of their dog's work. They purred low, a purr of pain rather than contentment. Their leather-lined paws reached into the mound and slowly lifted up what laid beneath.

A dark red cat laid in the human's grasp. Blank gray eyes stared at RippleClan territory. Blood smeared her marbled pelt.

So that's where Potterypool had gone.

"Drop her!" Moontide suddenly shrieked, charging to the riverbank. "Drop her right now! Don't take her!" The golden dog barked at Moontide's yowls. Even the human turned their head, noticing the Clan cats for the first time. Shrewflame, Yarrowclaw, and Thundergale all stood beside Moontide, the river licking their paws as they hissed at the human. The human glanced down at the body in their grasp, cradled close to their chest. Their attention drifted between Potterypool and the living cats. Their paw absent-mindedly stroked Potterypool's still pelt.

"There are good humans, right?" Shrewflame yowled like there was some chance of the human understanding him. "Maybe you're one of them! Just put her body down! She's our friend!" The human held Potterypool tighter. Their eyes shimmered. The human slowly sat beside the unearthed mound. The dog came close, sniffing Potterypool's body, but the human hissed at it, shielding the dead cat. The human carefully laid Potterypool beside the disturbed earth. They arranged her legs gently underneath her. They made it look as though Potterypool was curled up, deep in a peaceful dream. The human stroked Potterypool's head, whining. Blood covered their paws. They even rested their muzzle against Potterypool's forehead, as though participating in vigil. Could humans truly care about cats so deeply, even cats they never met?

The human stood and made a sharp bird-like song to their dog. The dog walked alongside the human, eyeing Potterypool and the living cats. Yet it stayed tame as the human led it back through the trees. As soon as the pair slipped through the undergrowth, Moontide dove into the river.

"Moontide, don't touch her!" Shrewflame yowled. Moontide swam with the river pushing against her side. She crawled onto the opposite bank as Shrewflame raced for the stepping stones. The cold water numbed his paws. He slipped onto the grass beyond the border. Moontide reached her paw to Potterypool's curled body just as Shrewflame snatched the white molly's scruff and tugged her back.

"Shrewflame, get off of me!" Moontide cried, paws smacking at Shrewflame.

"Look at her, Moontide!" Shrewflame hissed, letting go and shoving the frantic molly back. "She's covered in blood. She was buried beyond the border. A dog or fox wouldn't have done that. Think!" Yarrowclaw and Thundergale joined the pair on their side of the river. "We need codekeepers. That's the right way to do this. They should get a look at her body before anyone else disturbs her."

"She's been here all this time," Moontide whined, shaking. "I patrolled by here yesterday. I didn't see her!"

"Thundergale and I will go back to camp," Yarrowclaw promised. "We'll find some codekeepers." The air hung stiff around them, aching for some sort of comforting phrase before the two mollies left, but Yarrowclaw and Thundergale were silent. They slowly crept away from Potterypool's body and back to the river. Moontide moaned as Yarrowclaw and Thundergale hurried back to RippleClan territory.

Moontide sunk low, one paw stretching out toward her sister. Her instincts fought against her common sense, desperate to touch Potterypool's matted, dirty fur, shake life back into her lungs. But Shrewflame kept a paw on Moontide's leg, refusing to look away from Potterypool's body. When he looked past the slight decay, past the scent of death and dirt and the river's mist, Shrewflame could make out distinct trails of blood staining Potterypool's already dark red fur. Shrewflame didn't need a codekeeper's training to see this was the work of a cat. But who?

(Shrewflame: 13, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Thundergale: 21, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)

(Moontide: 24, female, teacher, playful, excellent teacher)

(Yarrowclaw: 24, female, warrior, cold, fire master)

(Potterypool: 24, female, caretaker, sneaky, great singer)

Stormjump and Honeybuzz proudly announce their commitment to one another as mates before the Clan. Meanwhile, Waspdawn battles an infection in his tail stump.

[Image ID: Stormjump and Honeybuzz preen together while Cobaltchaser and Lightningrunner sit with Waspdawn in the back. Under Waspdawn, it reads + INFECTION. Under Stormjump, it reads + MATE: HONEYBUZZ. Under Honeybuzz, it reads + MATE: STORMJUMP.]

---

"It was an intentional burial," Waspdawn muttered as Troutpool rubbed an infection-fighting balm into the amputated stump of his half-tail. "Someone didn't want her body to be found. Why?"

"Waspdawn, maybe you should just rest," Cobaltchaser suggested, grooming her older brother's head. "Overthinking this isn't going to help your fever."

"But he's right, Cobaltchaser," Lightningrunner huffed. "This is bad. It's like the story with Scrubmask. This could be another war with the Witch Hunters!"

"Take it from someone who was actually there for Scrubmask's death," Troutpool sighed, finishing the last of Waspdawn's balm. "Whoever left her body there didn't care who found it. Potterypool's situation is different."

The four cats sat together in the medicine den, noses plugged with the smell of infection and herbs. Waspdawn sat with his tail stretched out of his nest. His furless tail-tip blistered red, some unknown infection creeping into the scars of his amputation. Cobaltchaser and Lightningrunner kept him company as sunhigh glared down on the noisy camp clearing. Despite the overwhelming scent of the medicine den, the smell of dried fish still managed to soak through the den walls from the meal outside.

Most of the Clan surrounded Honeybuzz and Stormjump, congratulating the pair on their official declaration of matehood. Waspdawn's daughter beamed under all the attention. Stormjump purred and laughed as cats like Wildclaw and Rabbitjoy offered their advice and jokes. Honeybuzz's brothers shoved against him, laughing at the top of their lungs. Honeybuzz's eyes carried a softness that had been absent in recent days. From the look of the crowd, it would have been hard to believe that one of their own had been found murdered the day before. Yet the signs were there in what was absent; Halibutdusk could not been seen. They were likely hiding out with Downstar in her den. Moontide and Vervaincough were also distant, moving away from the crowd as soon as they congratulated their older brother.

"At least they sound happy out there." From the other side of the medicine den, Mosspounce laid with his legs at awkward angles, shifting constantly. Clean bandages wrapped around his head, smothering any light before it reached his tattered eyes. If the cougar's claws were as vicious as the stories from last moon claimed, it was impressive Mosspounce still had a face to show off.

"If you're lonely, Mosspounce," Troutpool sighed, "I can have someone guide you through camp."

"Lemmy will be back soon," Mosspounce said with a dismissive flick of his ear. "I can congratulate the happy couple later. I want to keep listening to your theories, Waspdawn. Lemmy's been tight-jawed about the investigation."

"She hasn't been involved," Waspdawn muttered. "We're keeping the investigation to myself, Puddlewhisper, and Cobaltchaser here."

"My brother trusts me," Cobaltchaser purred, squirming with prideful satisfaction.

"More like knows you couldn't have done it," Troutpool awkwardly pointed out, cleaning the balm from her paws. "You were stuck in the dirtplace the day Potterypool vanished." Mosspounce snickered as Cobaltchaser stiffened.

"So we're really considering that someone in our Clan killed Potterypool?" Lightningrunner gulped.

"There are other suspects," Waspdawn assured her. Troutpool shuffled through her herbs as Waspdawn explained. "A Witch Hunter could have killed Potterypool and hidden the body to maintain peace between them and us. Puddlewhisper and Paleseed are going to the human settlement tomorrow to interview Pearl."

"Cobaltchaser, can you fetch a clean bowl?" Troutpool sighed, plucking a jar from her stores. "Your brother needs something to drink his red osier decoction from. It should ease his fever." Cobaltchaser quickly jogged out of the den, set on her new mission.

"Can we even punish someone if they aren't in our Clan?" Lightningrunner asked. "Would Downstar go to war over the killer if their Clan or colony didn't give them up?"

"I know I would," Mosspounce huffed. "Take it from someone who had a paw in the Clan's first war with the Witch Hunters. When our cultures are so different, you can't avoid a fight if you hope to change things. They deserved a battle for kidnapping Carnationspeckle. What sort of justice is it when a killer goes free?" Lightningrunner hung on Mosspounce's words. Waspdawn's heart spasmed, an ache traveling through his blood. The dread of murder fueled his fever and forced his head down.

"You're staying in here for a while, Waspdawn," Troutpool sighed, grooming Waspdawn's neck. "No investigations for you."

"Downstar gave me responsibility…" Waspdawn muttered. He sat up, his head swimming.

"You can share that responsibility with Puddlewhisper," Troutpool said. "Please, lay down. You need to rest."

Regardless of what Waspdawn wanted, he didn't have the energy to do anything but tumble into his nest. The hope beaming from the clearing soothed his palpatations. Lightningrunner settled between Waspdawn and Mosspounce, still eager to continue her conversation with the latter. If she wanted time with her older brother, that would have to come later. As Waspdawn let Troutpool's balm do its work, his sleepy thoughts formed images of disturbed soil behind his eyes. Shifting visions of red fur slashed about, acting as a focal point through the fog of fever.

It was Waspdawn's duty to bring the truth to light.

(Waspdawn: 55, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Cobaltchaser: 19, female, codekeeper, righteous, good cook, prey cleaner)

(Lightningrunner: 19, female, historian, nervous, explorer, helpful insight)

(Troutpool: 50, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Honeybuzz: 37, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Stormjump: 20, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Mosspounce: 50, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 95, Part 2

The third time’s the charm when Anchovystrike goes to see Weevilsight in the medicine den.

[Image ID: Anchovystrike approaches Weevilsight and Elmsprout from the back, calling "Weevil? Are you busy?" Under Anchovystrike, it says + MATE: WEEVILSIGHT. Under Weevilsight, it says + MATE: ANCHOVYSTRIKE.]

Anchovystrike placed the freshly caught mouse on the fresh-kill pile, loaded with prey for the caretakers to soon turn into the sunhigh meal. The back of his jaw twinged as he let go. He hissed softly and kept his mouth shut tight. Pain rippled from his jaw in beat with his heart. He glanced toward the medicine den, where Currentsmoke helped Yarrowclaw groom the deep wound on the back of her leg; the LynxClan thieves from the moon before landed a lucky blow on Yarrowclaw's ankle, leaving a wound so deep that Anchovystrike at first feared the clerics would have to take his sister's foot off. But Yarrowclaw was not the reason Anchovystrike hesitated by the fresh-kill pile, unable to stop looking into the medicine den.

Anchovystrike gasped as his tongue glanced over his aching tooth. Sharp pain clawed at his face. He certainly couldn't help Ravenweaver and Frostpaw with their self-defense training that afternoon if his jaw was acting like this. He just had to stop acting like a kit and go in.

Anchovystrike slipped through the crowded camp, where Mitespark entertained the younger cats with a story and Lavendertwist's little group of musicians (including Splashtuft, Brightreed, and Drumtooth) practiced a song. He prayed to the Celestial of Avoiding Awkward Encounters that the molly he dreaded to talk to wasn't inside the medicine den (and that there was, in fact, a Celestial of Avoiding Awkward Encounters). Still, Anchovystrike knew as he passed his littermates that he wouldn't be so lucky.

Elmsprout and Weevilsight were cleaning out Downstar's nest. No one felt comfortable touching it until a few days after the vigil, when Oilstar pointed out that Downstar wouldn't appreciate the smell of her own death polluting the medicine den. As such, Elmsprout and Weevilsight deconstructed the moss, leather, and feathers that formed Downstar's death-nest. They placed the moss and feathers into one basket, likely to be thrown away, and threw the leather into another for the caretakers to wash. Neither noticed Anchovystrike step inside. Oh StarClan, was he going to have to call himself out?

"Weevil?" Anchovystrike gulped. "Are you busy?" Elmsprout looked up first as Weevilsight moved another piece of leather.

"Hello, Anchovystrike," Elmsprout hummed. "If you give us a few moments, I can get out of your fur."

"It's nothing serious!" Anchovystrike insisted as Weevilsight turned to him. In his eyes, Weevilsight's pelt glistened like Silverpelt itself. Where it made Wolfgaze seem powerful and far more confident than she actually was, it just made Weevilsight all the more beautiful. Anchovystrike almost forgot why he came into the den until another ripple of pain erupted from his tooth. He flinched, hissing, "I think I have a toothache."

"Did it just start?" Weevilsight asked, abandoning her task.

"It started to hurt yesterday," Anchovystrike explained through gritted teeth. "I thought it would go away overnight, but it didn't. It's on the bottom left, far in the back." Anchovystrike opened his mouth wide. Weevilsight peered into his glistening jaws.

"Have you been using chew sticks?" Weevilsight asked.

"When I remember," Anchovystrike chuckled awkwardly as Weevilsight's nose nearly entered his mouth.

"Well they haven't been getting to the back of your mouth," Weevilsight huffed. "This time of year, I would give you speckled alder bark, but we haven't been able to get any from SlugClan with the recent tension. The best way to fix this is salt water. You're going to want to head to the coast and get a lot of water in your mouth, but don't drink it. Just let it sit there for a while and then spit it out. If you do that for a while, it can get all the gunk I see back there."

"Thanks," Anchovystrike purred, "but do you have anything for the pain?"

"I have some cow parsnip root," Weevilsight explained, moving to the medicine stores. "What we can do for initial treatment is hold the root on the tooth until the current bout of pain goes away. It's a better option than white cedar gum, but you'll need to sit with the root for a bit. Do you have the time?"

"I'll take as much time as I need for this," Anchovystrike groaned. He found an empty nest near the front of the den's larger patient area and took a seat.

"I can take the baskets out, Weevilsight," Elmsprout said, slipping the basket of dirty moss over her neck. "I'm going to take these materials to the garden, and I'll come back for the leather."

"Thanks, Elmsprout," Weevilsight said politely as Elmsprout left the den. Anchovystrike might have noticed the coy look in Elmsprout's eyes were he not distracted by the pain in his mouth.

A few moments later, Weevilsight had a long, pale tan root in her mouth. She passed the root to Anchovystrike, who quickly adjusted it to sit on his stabbing tooth. The root prevented any chance of Anchovystrike saying something mouse-brained again. He settled down as Weevilsight collected a few more dirty leathers from around the den and put them in the basket.

"I saw you playing with Midnightkit during the vigil," Weevilsight said, startling Anchovystrike. "I heard he's interested in being a warrior. Do you think you might want to mentor him?" Anchovystrike nodded. The young black tom had an odd sort of constantly-unaware charm about him that seemed ripe with potential. Besides, someone needed to keep him from disturbing Wildclaw in her grief. "Good. I think you two will work well together. So long as you don't avoid him for a whole moon." Weevilsight glared at Anchovystrike. Oh StarClan, Anchovystrike was in for it now.

Weevilsight sat by Anchovystrike in a huff, saying, "Yes, I know you've been avoiding me. That's why your tooth is bad, you haven't been getting any chew sticks from us! I'm not a kit, Anchovy, I can tell you don't know what to say to me." Anchovystrike stared at the root protruding from his mouth. "Really, who do you take me for? You're my best friend. I'm not mad that you asked me to be your mate. A lot's happened lately." Anchovystrike wanted to melt through the ground. "Stars forbid I want something to stay the same while my whole life is collapsing."

"Sorry," Anchovystrike said through the root.

"Don't be sorry for asking," Weevilsight snapped. "Be sorry that you ignored me. Don't tell me I can't be your friend if I'm not your mate."

"No!" Anchovystrike gasped. He nearly choked on his cow parsnip root.

"Can you just…" Weevilsight sighed, sinking to Anchovystrike's level, "not ignore me anymore? This feel like a mouse-brained thing to argue about." Anchovystrike enthusiatically nodded. "Good. Now I need to go see Thundergale, I'll be back in a little bit and we can check your tooth." Weevilsight licked Anchovystrike's ear and stood with a big stretch. Just as Anchovystrike laid his head back down and Weevilsight neared the exit, she paused. The tortoiseshell cleric turned around and said, "When your tooth's better, we can go out of camp for a bit if you want. In a… mate-like way."

Anchovystrike held back his yowl of victory until Weevilsight left. The whole camp still heard him, though.

(Anchovystrike: 30, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Elmsprout: 62, female, caretaker, charismatic, trusted advisor)

(Weevilsight: 30, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

Gingerpaw enthusiastically declares that Stormjump is expecting Honeybuzz’s kits.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Sandhollow, and Yellowburst gather around Stormjump. Yellowburst says, "Yes! Thundergale owes me five patrols!" Under Stormjump, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT. Under Yellowburst, it says - CONDITION: BITE WOUND. In the foreground, Gingerpaw says to Estherfern, "See, Estherfern? I'm more than ready to graduate."]

(Gingerpaw: 11, male, cleric apprentice, charismatic, curious about humans, moss-ball hunter)

(Estherfern: 129, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Honeybuzz: 43, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Stormjump: 26, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Sandhollow: 26, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Yellowburst: 26, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)

Oilstar fights with Ospreystar at the Gathering. When she hears Ospreystar’s reasoning for raiding crabs, Oilstar begins to wonder if RippleClan needs to better leverage their access to the coast.

[Image ID: RippleClan socializes in the distance while Oilstar and Ospreystar argue on the Leader's Stone. Ospreystar says, "No Clan owned the ocean until RippleClan came along."]

(Oilstar: 99, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

When Thundergale wakes up, she cannot hear the late spring birdsong. Her hearing is completely gone.

[Image ID: Sandhollow, Wolverineheart, and Mitespark surround Thundergale. They speak, but all their text bubbles say is "??????" Under Thundergale, it says LEVEL UP! PARTIAL HEARING LOSS → DEAF.]

(Sandhollow: 26, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Thundergale: 27, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)

(Wolverineheart: 27, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Mitespark: 37, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)

Whiteflower becomes the Clan’s newest historian, although he seems more like a caretaker as he looks after the kits.

[Image ID: Shrewflame stands proudly behind Whiteflower, now in a long-furred sprite, as he talks with Midnightkit, Valleykit, Icekit, Pearkit, and Dovekit. Whiteflower says, "Whoever told you you have to outgrow games lied. Most of you may be apprentices next moon, but you can always play some mossball." Under Whiteflower, it says LEVEL UP! WHITEPAW → WHITEFLOWER, NERVOUS → FAITHFUL, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GREAT KITSITTER.]

(Shrewflame: 19, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Whiteflower: 12, male, historian, faithful, great kitsitter)

(Midnightkit: 4, male, kit, polite, always wandering)

(Valleykit: 4, male, kit, quiet, avid play-fighter)

(Icekit: 5, male, kit, unruly, oddly observant)

(Pearkit: 5, female, kit, quiet, moss-ball hunter)

(Dovekit: 5, male, kit, impulsive, active imagination)

It’s all Icekit can do to huddle in the darkness of the medicine den with yet another headache.

[Image ID: Icekit huddles to the side, with + PERMANENT CONDITION: PERSISTENT HEADACHES under him. Pearkit talks to Troutpool in the back. Troutpool says "Remember to be quiet for him, alright?"]

---

Icekit had a headache. Again. Pearkit didn't know a lot about the world, but she knew cats didn't have this many headaches. Puddlewhisper must have known that too, as she was deep in conversation with Troutpool while Pearkit waited outside the medicine den. Now Pearkit wasn't supposed to necessarily hear everything the pair were talking about, but it was her brother in there! She deserved to know what was wrong with him! Wherever Icekit went, Pearkit went too. And so she sat in the evening glow, ears turned to the medicine den, waiting to hear what her mother wouldn't tell her.

"I've been counting, Troutpool," Puddlewhisper huffed. "He's had to go to the medicine den almost twelve times in three moons! That isn't normal."

"Well, everyone gets headaches," Troutpool said. She hesitated as she spoke, however.

"Headaches don't make you throw up," Puddlewhisper hissed. "He gets sick every other time he has to go in here."

"I know," Troutpool sighed. "I'm not trying to dismiss you. We just don't have any answers for you. We don't know why he gets these headaches."

"I do. You remember what happened when we brought him home."

"But he was fine then. I checked him over myself."

"Maybe it's something that develops with age. I shouldn't have doubted my gut. She caused this, Troutpool." Who were they talking about?

"It's up to you if we tell them now or not. But they need to know soon if they're going to make their decision." Decision? Pearkit's fur prickled. They certainly weren't talking about apprenticeship decisions. Pearkit had the sickening suspicion she knew what they wanted her to choose.

"I just don't know what to do," Puddlewhisper sighed. "They're my kits now, Troutpool. Maybe even more-so than Nimblestep."

"I know, I know. We should let Icekit sleep, though. Sleep is the best medicine for a headache." Oh StarClan, they were coming out! Pearkit ran back to the nursery. She tumbled into a sloppy loaf in front of the den as Puddlewhisper and Troutpool stepped out. She pretended to only just notice them as they headed for her. She prayed she was convincing. She didn't need to get in trouble so close to her apprenticeship!

"Icekit is going to sleep in the medicine den tonight," Puddlewhisper explained, running her tail over Pearkit's back. "He'll be back with us tomorrow. Let's go to sleep, alright?"

"I actually want to check on Icekit," Pearkit stammered as Puddlewhisper entered the nursery. "Just for a little bit! He seemed really miserable."

"Your brother's sleeping," Troutpool explained. "You both need to rest."

"How can I rest if I don't see him?" Pearkit huffed. Puddlewhisper peeked back out of the den.

"You can go see him, Pearkit," Puddlewhisper sighed. "If his head hurts too much, though, leave."

"I will," Pearkit said politely, already on her paws.

"Remember to be quiet for him, alright?" Troutpool asked. She waved her tail toward the medicine den, giving Pearkit full permission to see her brother. Pearkit ran past Troutpool and into the dark den.

Yarrowclaw was inside, nibbling at the bandage around her leg, but she seemed preoccupied with her task. Icekit's nest was far in the back, in the darkest corner the clerics could manage. Icekit's head hid under the moss and leather of his nest, blocking out painful light. Pearkit crept around Yarrowclaw and toward her brother.

"Icekit?" Pearkit whispered. "Are you awake?" Icekit groaned and shuffled out of his hidey-hole. The fuzzy fur around his face, only just moving into an adult coat, was scuffled and messy.

"I never fell asleep," Icekit whined. "My head hurts too much."

"I'm sorry," Pearkit said. "Troutpool says you'll feel better soon." Icekit bristled. His blood-shot eyes glared at nothing.

"She was talking with Mom," Icekit growled. "They said things we weren't supposed to know."

"I heard a bit of it," Pearkit whispered. She joined Icekit in his nest. "What sort of decision are they talking about?"

"They want us to choose where we live," Icekit huffed. "We can stay here with Mom or go to SlugClan with… our real mom. And Quickkit." Pearkit felt cold. She remembered cowering just a few tail-lengths away as SlugClan stormed the camp, determined to steal the two kits into unknown territory with unknown kin. She and Icekit heard the mediators whisper to each other about "visitation" and "the rights of the mother", but Pearkit barely understood it.

"What do you think Quickkit is like?" Pearkit wondered softly.

"Sandhollow called her 'spunky', whatever that means," Icekit grumbled. "Nimblestep probably treats her well." Icekit groaned, squeezing his eyes tight. He stuck his face back into the nest.

"Slushtrail told me Nimblestep was at the Gathering," Pearkit whispered, curling around her brother. "She asks about us a lot. She's probably very nice."

"Mom didn't tell us everything about how she found us," Icekit growled, voice muffled in the moss.

"Yes she did," Pearkit huffed, only half-believing herself. "Mom brought us home when Nimblestep ran off with Quickkit.

"But she could have taken all three of us!" Icekit pulled his head back into the light, even as he grimaced and groaned. "I heard them talk about it. Nimblestep didn't even touch you! She grabbed me and Quickkit. And then she dropped me! I hit my head on a tree root! That's why I have these headaches! Nimblestep did this to me!" Pearkit's thoughts faltered. That could happen?

"She didn't mean it," Pearkit finally managed to say. "Everyone says she loves us."

"She wouldn't have tried to steal us if she actually loved us," Icekit whimpered as though even his own voice caused him pain.

"I don't know," Pearkit gulped, barely breathing. "Maybe that's what moms do for kits. I want to know who Nimblestep and Quickkit are some day. Maybe they can tell us why Nimblestep saved Quickkit and…"

And not them. Pearkit couldn't make herself say that. She could barely imagine it. Puddlewhisper would die for them, she showed that when SlugClan invaded. She taught them about the warrior code, and what it meant to care for family and Clan alike. Pearkit could see that love reflected in the other mothers of RippleClan; Wildclaw, Elmsprout, even Darkkick! So if Nimblestep dropped Icekit, didn't go back for him, didn't even touch Pearkit… could they really be her kits?

"We can talk to her all we want at Gatherings," Icekit huffed. "I'm staying in RippleClan. I'm not leaving Mom."

"Then I'm not leaving either," Pearkit huffed, throwing herself on top of Icekit. Icekit hid his face while Pearkit relaxed on top of her brother. "We're both RippleClan cats, and that's it."

The pair would fall asleep like that, only discovered when Puddlewhisper tried to call Pearkit back to the nursery. She let the littermates be.

(Pearkit: 5, female, kit, quiet, moss-ball hunter)

(Puddlewhisper: 61, trans female, codekeeper, thoughtful, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Troutpool: 56, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Icekit: 5, male, kit, unruly, oddly observant)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 93

Anchovystrike’s dreams of romance and love have been crushed by Weevilsight’s rejection. She just isn't ready for a mate. They both vent about the situation to those they trust.

[Image ID: Troutpool speaks with Weevilsight in the back, while Anchovystrike confides in Billowhaze in the foreground. Billowhaze says "Give her—achoo—time." Under him, it says +CONDITION: RUNNY NOSE.]

(Billowhaze: 28, male, historian, loyal, good kit-sitter)

(Anchovystrike: 28, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Troutpool: 54, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Weevilsight: 28, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

Puddlewhisper reevaluates her morals when Yellowburst returns to camp with a bite-wound, having had a skirmish with SlugClan over her kits. How can she claim to be a good parent when she keeps her kits from their birth mother?

[Image ID: While Puddlewhisper sunbathes with Estherfern and Wolverineheart, Puddlewhisper watches Weevilsight lead Yellowburst to the medicine den. Under Yellowburst, it says + CONDITION: BITE WOUND.]

(Puddlewhisper: 59, trans female, codekeeper, thoughtful, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Estherfern: 127, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Wolverineheart: 25, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Weevilsight: 28, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Yellowburst: 24, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)