#Update 16 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

salt-clangen · 2 months ago

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Moon 16

Green Leaf

Lynxdawn was a miracle worker—Snowspeckle was sure of it. In less than a moon, Nightleap was already up and moving again. It had taken countless poultices and strict nest rest, but her wound had finally closed, leaving behind a fresh pink scar. It was rigid and sensitive, but it held her mate’s weight again.

Just in time for Greenleaf’s sweltering heat to settle over the clans. Snowspeckle was grateful for the ocean breeze that cut through the rising temperatures, though she knew her darker-furred clanmates struggled more with the heat. That was why, in the cool hush of early morning, she asked Nightleap to join her on a gathering patrol.

The black molly agreed without hesitation—any excuse to spend time with her beloved—and the two of them set out with their baskets.

Snowspeckle chatted as they walked, her voice light and warm. She spoke of the upcoming Longest Day Festival, the decorations SaltClan was tasked with, and how HoneyClan’s artisans had kept their assignment simple: crafting flower, bee, and sun charms to hang at the gathering place. They wandered the shore collecting wood and cordage materials, the gentle rhythm of Snowspeckle’s words soothing Nightleap’s nerves.

But there was a nagging thought she couldn’t shake.

“I think we should have another litter,” Nightleap blurted out.

Snowspeckle froze mid-step, her words cut short. She turned to face Nightleap fully, expression unreadable. “You do?”

Nightleap shrugged, but excitement flickered beneath her nonchalance. “Yeah. I think we’re in a good place. It’d be nice.”

Snowspeckle hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t think now is the time.”

The answer hit like a wave crashing against rock. Disappointment surged in Nightleap’s chest, hot and sharp. She turned away, ears twitching as she resumed walking, silent.

Snowspeckle hurried after her. “It’s just—my first kitting was hard to recover from,” she explained, voice gentle but firm. “And I’m deputy now. I need to focus on my duties.”

Nightleap didn’t respond. Her jaw was tight, her steps clipped.

The tension between them crackled like fire, thick and oppressive. Snowspeckle sighed, then cut in front of her, stepping into her space and pressing their foreheads together.

“Hey.” Her voice softened. “Talk to me.”

The warmth in her tone shattered the last of Nightleap’s restraint.

“I…” Nightleap exhaled sharply, ears flicking back. “I want another litter so I can be there when they’re young.” She swallowed hard, shame creeping into her voice. “I feel like I don’t have a strong bond with our sons. It feels weird even calling them that.”

A shadow crossed Snowspeckle’s face. She stepped back, tail flicking. When she spoke, she fought to keep her voice even.

“Kits aren’t do-overs or second chances.”

Nightleap flinched. “I know! I know. But it’s how I feel.”

“You don’t need another litter to grow closer to them,” Snowspeckle said, her voice gentler now. “You might not be close now, but there’s still time. You have so many chances to bond as they grow.”

She let the words sink in before adding, “Think about how close you and Ripplepaw have gotten. It’s not impossible.”

The morning sun peeked over the horizon, turning the air muggy and thick. Nightleap shifted uncomfortably, struggling to find the right words.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” Snowspeckle murmured, stepping closer to press a fond lick to her cheek. “Let’s get to the trees, stay out of the sun while we work. Yeah?”

Nightleap nodded and shyly bumped her head against her mate’s. She still felt the weight of disappointment, but Snowspeckle was right—she needed to try.

Her paws felt heavy as they made their way to the tree line, but as she caught the warmth in her mate’s gaze, something in her chest lightened.

Everything was going well for Mallowstripe. Every day, he courted Shadowdive, bringing the large tom gifts and lingering by his side. In turn, Wolfstar courted him—her words and gestures flustering him even as he worked.

Even under the sweltering Greenleaf sun, with the fires and ovens making the air thick and oppressive, he felt giddy whenever either of them approached. They seemed to enjoy teasing him—Shadowdive smirking as Mallowstripe stuttered through the day’s meal plans, pressing his heavy body against the smaller tom’s side. Wolfstar, on the other paw, would murmur praises in his ear, for the food and for him.

It was perfect. Exactly what he had always wanted.

So why did his heart race like he was being hunted? Why did the shadows stretch too long at night? Why did he brace for the worst every time a cat entered camp too quickly?

Nothing was wrong. He knew that. Nothing was happening. There was no immediate danger, no reason for his paws to shake or his stomach to churn. His life was too good to ruin with his nerves.

And yet, when Wolfstar was gone too long, he hid behind the oven or curled up in the warriors’ den, shivering like a leaf caught in a storm. He tried what Darkfold had taught him so many moons ago—deep breaths, counting on the exhale—but it didn’t help.

Mallowstripe felt powerless, out of control. Embarrassed.

Today’s panic hit at sunhigh, nearly halfway through the moon. It started slow—prickling at the base of his tail like ants crawling under his fur. He tensed, willing himself to push through, to focus on the evening’s meal preparations. The camp was mostly empty, warriors and apprentices dozing in the dens through the worst of the heat.

And still, the feeling spread, creeping up his spine, bristling his hackles. His face itched, his scar burned, and the heat from the oven pressed in like suffocating paws.

It was too easy to lose everything.

The thought seized him, and he gasped, choking on his own breath. He pressed himself against the stone wall, claws sinking into the sand as images flashed behind his eyes—scenes of terror and death. Memories. Possibilities. He squeezed his eyes shut against them, trembling all over.

A small paw pad pressed against his hip.

A normal warrior would leap at the unexpected touch. Mallowstripe only curled in on himself.

Pathetic.

The ringing in his head made it hard to hear, but someone was speaking. He forced his eyes open and found Coralkit standing over him, her wide, curious gaze locked onto his.

He let out a shaky breath. The sight of her—so small, so unaffected by whatever monsters lurked in his head—was enough to drag him back, at least a little. Still shaking, he retracted his claws and tried to shift away.

But Coralkit was nothing if not stubborn. She pressed in closer. He wanted to snap at her, to tell her to go away—to shove down the shame clawing at his throat—but he couldn’t. She nosed her way under his chin, tucking herself against him, small enough to fit between his cheek and shoulder.

It was too hot for this. His pelt burned, but her nose was cold against his fur. She purred—a small, trilling sound, forced and high-pitched, like she wasn’t used to doing it on purpose.

Still, it soothed him.

He hadn’t even realized he was crying until he felt the warm, salty wetness on his fur.

They stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for his chest to stop aching and his breathing to steady. When he finally purred back, her own purr wobbled, going even higher.

At last, Coralkit pulled away, no doubt sweltering in her thick coat. She stood, peering up at him. “Is it better?”

Mallowstripe swallowed, his throat dry. “Y-yeah. A lot better. Th-thank you.”

Her tail flicked, pleased. “Are you ready to go to ma—Lynxdawn?”

He stiffened at the suggestion. The movement didn’t escape her shining eyes.

“It’d be good,” she pressed gently. “She can help. She says clerics take care of every part of a cat, even their mind.”

Mallowstripe couldn’t meet her gaze. “I think I’ll be fine.” He forced a smile, ears flicking back. “I’ll go if it happens again.”

Coralkit frowned, clearly unconvinced. “But this has happened before. A lot. Like, every day at least.”

She took a step closer, like she might curl up against him again, but this time, he stood.

Her ears dropped. He could see it in her face—like he’d just cut her off, shut her out.

Shame burned under his fur. What kind of warrior needed comfort from a kit?

“It’s fine,” he insisted, voice sharper than intended. “I can handle it.”

“But—”

“I said it’s fine!” He snapped, his tail lashing.

A normal kit would have flinched. Would have run off, tail tucked.

But Coralkit was not a normal kit.

She held her ground, her expression shifting—not scared, not angry. Just… sad.

“I thought you were dying,” she murmured.

Mallowstripe stilled, her words knocking the breath from his lungs. “What?”

“The first time I saw it happen, I thought you were hurt.” She scuffed a paw against the ground. “But then you got up again. And this time, you… you looked like Fennelheart when he was sick.”

A chill seeped into his bones despite the heat.

He had never considered what it must look like from the outside. What it must feel like for a kit to witness.

Coralkit kept her gaze on her paws. “It was really scary. So I came to check on you.”

Mallowstripe swallowed hard. “How long have you known?”

“A couple days.” She shrugged, though he suspected longer.

“Does… does your mother know?”

She shook her head, ears flicking.

He hesitated. He should brush it off, tell her he was fine. But she wasn’t wrong.

And she wasn’t going to let it go.

“…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for her help,” he muttered, the words heavy in his mouth.

Coralkit’s face brightened just a little. Without another word, she turned and started leading him toward the cleric’s den.

Mallowstripe followed.

“Skullcap and chamomile.” Lynxdawn’s voice was soft, as if she was afraid he might startle. “Keep it in the kitchen—make a big bowl of tea in the morning and sip it throughout the day.”

She slid the bundled herbs toward him, and he hooked a gentle claw under the twine, pulling them closer. He sniffed the leaves, focusing on the earthy scent as if it might ground him.

“You need to talk to someone.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Mallowstripe ducked his head, his throat tightening.

“You won’t get better without talking it out,” Lynxdawn pressed gently.

His chest clenched. “I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing wrong. I shouldn’t be this anxious.”

“There’s plenty to be worried about,” she countered, her tail brushing his side as she turned to scan her stores. “The tensions with the clans, the strange dreams, the dead ends about Lostclaw…”

He stayed quiet, ears twitching at the distant sounds of camp—warriors stretching, kits squealing, the low murmur of conversation as cats returned to their duties.

Lynxdawn didn’t let the silence linger. “You’ve always been nervous,” she said, voice patient. “Why is it worse now?”

Mallowstripe shuffled his paws in the sand. “Things are… going well.” His voice wavered, and he let the words trail off.

She glanced at him. “Things are going well.”

He sighed, hesitating before admitting, “With me and Wolfstar and Shadowdive… I just—I worry it won’t last.”

“You’re afraid something bad will happen now that you’re happy,” she murmured.

He nodded stiffly, shoulders drawn tight. “I’ve never been this happy before. I’ve always felt… left behind. Tolerated.” His breath hitched. “But with them, with this courtship, with taking care of the camp… I feel secure for the first time.” A shudder ran through him. “And I’m scared it’s all going to go away.”

Lynxdawn leaned forward, pressing a comforting lick between his eyes.

Tears welled, spilling over despite his effort to hold them back.

In the quiet dark of the den, he stifled his sobs, and she stayed beside him, silent and steady.

Lynxdawn let him cry, her presence warm and unwavering. She didn’t offer meaningless reassurances or tell him everything would be fine—because they both knew life didn’t work that way. But she stayed, and for now, that was enough.

After a while, Mallowstripe sniffled and sat up, rubbing at his damp eyes with a paw. He felt wrung out, but lighter, like he could finally breathe again.

Lynxdawn tilted her head, studying him. “You don’t have to carry this alone, you know.”

“I know,” he admitted, voice raw. And for the first time, he almost believed it.

She nudged the herbs toward him again. “Start with the tea. Let yourself rest. And when you’re ready, talk to them—really talk to them. Wolfstar and Shadowdive aren’t just going to vanish because you’re scared.”

His ear flicked. It was so simple when she said it like that.

“I’ll try,” he said, and this time, he meant it.

Lynxdawn smiled. “Good. That’s all healing really is—trying, a little more each day.”

Mallowstripe let out a breath, slow and steady. His chest still felt tight, but there was something else now, too—a quiet hope, small and fragile but real.

And for now, that was enough.

Entering Saltclan’s camp used to be as simple as leaping down from the low, western rocks. But as the clan grew, defense became paramount. Now, dried bramble bushes crowned the most accessible entries. A cat would have to squeeze through a narrow gap—only two tail lengths of sand between rugged rocks and the high tide—or brave wading through the water.

Crowpaw had visited the camp only once before, on a late night in leaf bare. And as the warm morning sun beat on their back, a prickling suspicion told them that Nightleap was leading them the wrong way. They hesitated, almost ready to voice their complaint when, unexpectedly, Nightleap rounded the rocky wall.

With cautious steps, Crowpaw followed, eyes fixed on the water even at its low tide. Then they were stunned: the familiar rocky barrier gave way to a large, beautiful camp. The bright sun painted the rocks golden, and the surrounding plants shone a vivid green. Even the tide pools practically sparkled.

“Not too bad, huh?” Nightleap asked with a hint of snide amusement.

Crowpaw’s grey eyes widened in wonder. “I’ve never seen anywhere like this…” they whispered.

Nightleap rolled her eyes lightly. “You haven’t exactly been to a lot of places,” She chided, tail beckoning the young cleric to follow.

Soon, the SaltClan cats began to watch as they approached the cleric’s den. Crowpaw recognized Mallowstripe and Snowspeckle immediately—both eyed them with cautious curiosity.

“Nightleap?” The white deputy asked, tone firm.

The dark molly answered quickly. “They were at the border, requesting to visit Lynxdawn.”

Stopping before a large den, Nightleap announced with a tail flourish that didn’t quite match her tone. “Here’s the clerics’ den. A warrior will be waiting outside to escort you back to the border when you’re done.”

Crowpaw bowed politely. “Thank you. I shouldn’t be long.”

Nightleap offered a curt nod—barely a bow, really. Just then, a large tom and a white tabby emerged from a den across the camp.

“Crowpaw,” Wolfstar greeted, offering a proper bow. “What brings you to our camp?”

Taking a steadying breath, Crowpaw replied, “I’m here to ask to borrow medicine from your cleric. Is she here?”

A soft, familiar face appeared as Lynxdawn’s fluffy head peeked out from behind the curtain of her den, followed by a gentle waft of fragrant herbs. “I am.” she said.

Crowpaw pushed past the curtain, uneasy as Wolfstar trailed close behind—the large, brown tom remaining at the entrance.

“Respectfully, Wolfstar,” The apprentice said, voice clipped. “This isn’t a matter that typically needs the leader’s input.”

Lynxdawn raised a brow at them. “We’re a bit more collaborative in SaltClan. Wolfstar and I make most decisions together.”

Crowpaw cleared their throat, not expecting her to side with the leader. “I suppose that’s fine. I’m here for poppy seeds.”

Wolfstar tilted her head. “Poppy seeds? That’s for severe pain. What do you need it for?”

Crowpaw’s tail twitched ever so slightly, though their tone remained steady. “I have a patient in severe pain.”

A tense silence fell as Lynxdawn’s eyes darted between her leader and the nervous apprentice. Finally, with a quick ear flick and nod from Wolfstar, Lynxdawn cleared her throat. “Poppy seeds are very uncommon. How much do you need?”

“As much as you can spare,” Crowpaw replied, voice low.

After a long pause, Lynxdawn sighed. “I’m afraid the seeds are too precious for charity. Perhaps I can offer willow bark instead—if I knew the nature of the injury, I can give you something more specific.”

At this, Crowpaw nearly stormed out of the den, their frustration boiling. “I don’t need to explain myself,” they hissed, tail lashing with a mix of anger and desperation. “But if it matters at all… I need it for Darkfold. Nothing else is working—her joints are swollen, and she can barely walk. I’ve sought help from Mousefoot and Rosedrift, but no one can soothe her pain.”

Wolfstar stepped forward, concern evident in their tone. “And you think poppy seeds will help?”

“It’s the only thing that allows her to stand,” Crowpaw said solemnly. “We’ve run out of our stores, and our artisans say we have too few trades to barter with HoneyClan for more.”

A hush fell among the pair as they exchanged silent looks. Wolfstar’s tail brushed lightly over Lynxdawn’s shoulder.

“Please,” Crowpaw bowed deeply, chest pressed against the cool, leather-lined floor. “I know it’s a big favor, and I can’t offer anything close to its worth—but I need the poppy seeds.”

The apprentice glanced up, uneasy at the look in Wolfstar’s eyes.

“Sit up,” Lynxdawn said gently. “We can send you with our stock.”

“If you can answer our questions.”

Crowpaw’s heart sank, they knew this came at a cost—they’d already revealed too much. Steeling themselves, they squared their shoulders and asked. “What questions?”

Wolfstar’s blue eyes met theirs. “Do you know the name Lostclaw?”

The calm façade in Crowpaw’s expression wavered; the mere mention of the name sent shivers down their spine. They averted their gaze toward the entrance, tempted to escape the interrogation.

“So you do know who she is,” Lynxdawn pressed.

Whipping their head around, Crowpaw was caught off-guard. “It’s a molly?” they stuttered.

Wolfstar’s tone hardened. “What do you know?”

Crowpaw’s pulse raced, and the large molly stepped in, blocking the entrance so no one could see their reaction. “I have obligations to my clan,” they growled, eyes darting nervously between the assembled cats. “I can’t disclose DuskClan’s weaknesses.”

Wolfstar’s voice was icy, “So Lostclaw was a DuskClan warrior?”

“No! I—I meant that…” Crowpaw stammered, heart pounding as they realized how trapped they were. “I don’t know who Lostclaw was, but I’ve heard the name before.”

Lynxdawn stepped in with quiet authority. “Please, Crowpaw. We’ve had signs linking this name to troubling events.”

“Darkfold mentioned it once… when she was more coherent. Our warriors—” They paused, unable to finish.

Wolfstar stepped back, offering Crowpaw space, her tone gentler now. “I know you’re reluctant to reveal too much. But we’re all looking out for DuskClan—and for the clan as a whole.”

Lynxdawn closed the gap, her maternal energy radiating in her soft words. “We believe Lostclaw is a threat to every clan.”

Crowpaw took a long breath, recalling the visions that haunted their nights. “I’ve had dreams that are… different. In them, I see a figure rising from the darkness—eyes that burn like cold fire. It’s not just a warning. It feels like a remnant of something lost, something that wasn’t meant to be a ghost at all.”

Wolfstar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You mean Lostclaw?” she prompted, already knowing the answer.

Crowpaw nodded, then lowered their gaze. “Yes. But there’s more.” They hesitated, then continued in a softer tone. “I was out near the border a few nights ago after the dream, and I saw something… unsettling. I found these deep claw marks carved into an ancient oak.”

They paused, feeling overwhelmed in the tight den. “The marks weren’t there before and they were too deep to be cause by a cat or even a badger.”

The silence that followed the admission was long, in the distance Crowpaw could hear the roar of the ocean. It unnerved them, setting their hackles up.

“It’s best if I get back.” They said dismissively. “Have I answered all your questions?”

Wolfstar nodded, starting to push the jar forward, then hesitated, glancing guiltily at her cleric.

“What about my siblings?” She asked, Lynxdawn sent a sharp look to her now, but she went on. “They haven’t been at the last few gatherings. Are they ok?”

“I can’t tell you.” Crowpaw said firmly, grabbing the twine handle in their teeth.

They march towards the entrance, stopping just short to glance back. “But…if you were asking as their sister…. And not the leader of Saltclan….”

They trailed off, but Wolfstar was quick to nod.

Crowpaw gulped, worrying the twine between their jaws as they thought.

“Greyclaw is…busy. He’s got a lot of responsibility.” They paused, glancing down to speak to the ground. “Ashenstep hasn’t spoken in moons, hardly a word from them.”

Wolfstar tried not to let her heart break, but she was weak.

“Can you ask them, please I know it’s…wrong but can you ask them to meet me at the border by the knotted pine.” She asked, Lynxdawn at her hip, a weight reminding her of her duties. “The night after the gathering. Please tell them.”

Crowpaw doesn’t meet their gaze, tail tucked. “I…. I’m not sure I can, but I’ll…try.”

Crowpaw hesitated, then lowered their gaze. With one last furtive glance at Lynxdawn, Crowpaw turned to leave, their footsteps subdued as Shadowdive stepped forward to escort them home.

The air was thick with humidity as Snowspeckle left camp, making her way west to HoneyClan. The day was just beginning, but already the sun’s warmth pressed down, breaking through the cloud cover in hazy streaks. She moved quickly, crossing the river over the stepping stones, the spray of water a welcome relief against her flank.

“Snowspeckle!” A voice carried on the wind.

Her ears flicked back, and she grimaced as Swiftdance trotted toward her, the blue tabby’s tail held confidently high. Snowspeckle wouldn’t have been surprised if the deputy found amusement in her irritation. The Molly’s tail brushed against her side, a touch far too familiar to be accidental.

Snowspeckle shifted away, keeping her greeting curt. “Swiftdance.”

“I’ll be your guide.” Swiftdance was undeterred by the cold reception. “I know you’re familiar with the way, but I’ll try not to walk ahead so you don’t struggle to keep up.”

Snowspeckle bit back the urge to roll her eyes. A classic Swiftdance move—brag and insult in the same breath. She kept silent and walked forward, ignoring the prickle of frustration as the HoneyClan deputy matched her pace, occasionally letting their pelts brush.

Don’t react, she told herself. She wants a reaction. Just focus on the meeting.

Interactions with HoneyClan always left her gritting her teeth. They carried themselves with an air of effortless superiority, wrapped in honeyed words and casual dismissal. Every meeting was a battle of patience, their condescending nature forcing her to bite her tongue. OakClan boasted out of genuine excitement, proud of their innovations. HoneyClan flaunted with a practiced ease, as if they were the standard to which all others should aspire.

That was why Nightleap had been different. Nervous, humble, content in her skills without the need to prove herself. It was why Snowspeckle had loved her from the start.

The thought occupied her enough that she barely noticed the transition from open plains to the lone hill that cradled HoneyClan’s camp. She entered through the narrow space between dens, only for Swiftdance to press against her once more, the scent of wildflowers clinging to her like pollen.

“Oh, you haven’t changed at all,” Swiftdance murmured, voice laced with amusement.

Snowspeckle’s tail flicked, but before she could snap, Rookstar and his mate, Bluemoon, approached.

“Snowspeckle! Nice to see you,” Rookstar greeted warmly, touching noses with her. “I hope the heat wasn’t too bad. Where’s Wolfstar?”

Snowspeckle nodded respectfully to Bluemoon before answering. “She’s come down with whitecough. Nothing serious, but we didn’t want to risk spreading it.”

Rookstar dismissed Swiftdance with a flick of his tail, and though the deputy left, her scent still clung stubbornly to Snowspeckle’s pelt.

“Some things never change, huh?” Bluemoon said lightly, watching Swiftdance disappear into camp. Her gaze was warm but sharp.

Snowspeckle exhaled slowly. “No, they don’t.”

Rookstar led them to a shaded patch of soft grass, lined with vibrant flowers. “Would you like some tea?” he offered, waiting as Bluemoon settled beside him.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She gave an awkward smile. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Rookstar, unbothered, nuzzled his mate before rising. “I’ll bring you some, love.”

As he padded away, Snowspeckle finally noticed the curve of Bluemoon’s belly.

“You’re pregnant,” she said, blinking in surprise.

Bluemoon purred, amused. “I am. This will be my third litter.”

“Congratulations.” The words came easily, but an itch of unease remained under her pelt.

“Thank you. I’m fortunate to have such a supportive mate.” Bluemoon sighed contentedly. “Your kits are nearly warriors now. You must be excited.”

Snowspeckle wasn’t sure if it was a dig or a genuine observation. Bluemoon was more tolerable than most HoneyClan cats, but even she had a way of prodding at sore spots.

“I’m thrilled,” Snowspeckle answered smoothly. “They’ll make great warriors.”

Bluemoon didn’t push further as Rookstar returned, carrying a bowl for his mate before settling beside her. “Thank you for coming. I hope you don’t mind Bluemoon being present—I’d rather not be away from her this far into her pregnancy.”

“I don’t mind,” Snowspeckle replied politely. “Let’s begin.”

The meeting dragged into sunhigh, the heat growing heavier as they discussed OakClan and DuskClan. Rookstar spoke of OakClan’s scent lingering past the borders, particularly near their graveyard. Archstar dodged all attempts to address it, claiming it was handled, yet the scent always returned.

Finally, after enough incidents, they realized it was the same cat each time. No one Rookstar recognized, but HoneyClan planned to identify them at the next gathering.

Swiftdance even returned with a broken tree branch, unusually serious as she asked Snowspeckle to scent it. The scent was undeniably OakClan—but unrecognizable to her.

For her part, Snowspeckle shared what little they had learned from DuskClan. The abandoned nest’s border remained unstable, and though encounters had been civil, there was an underlying unease. She mentioned the nightmares and Crowpaw’s vague revelations. None of it provided answers.

“Well, I’m sorry you traveled all this way for so little,” Rookstar sighed, tail flicking in frustration. The weight of the unknown bore heavily on him.

“It’s alright. I wish I could’ve been more help.” Snowspeckle exhaled, rubbing at her temple. “It’s awful, being kept in suspense. Just waiting for something to happen.”

Rookstar nodded, lost in thought.

A sudden gasp from behind startled Snowspeckle. She turned to see a large apprentice staring at her, amber eyes wide.

“Sunpaw, don’t be rude,” Bluemoon chided, though the tom remained transfixed.

Rookstar beckoned him closer. “This is our son, Sunpaw. He’s a little older than your kits.”

Sunpaw beamed and bowed—deeply, clumsily. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Snowspeckle chuckled. “Nice to meet you too. What are you training as?”

“I’m gonna be an artisan!” he announced proudly, fur fluffed up with excitement.

“That’s lovely!” Snowspeckle purred. “I’m an artisan as well. I look forward to seeing your crafts.”

Sunpaw nearly vibrated with joy. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

She laughed. “You said that already.”

His eyes grew impossibly round. “It’s just—you’re a deputy! And an artisan! That’s so cool!”

She blinked, taken aback by his enthusiasm. “It’s not common, but there’ve been a few before me.”

“None that I’ve met,” he whispered, awed. “This is awesome.”

Bluemoon and Rookstar exchanged amused glances, clearly surprised by their son’s eagerness. His openness was unlike HoneyClan’s usual smooth confidence, and yet, Snowspeckle found herself unexpectedly warmed by it.

For the first time that day, she felt the trip had been worth it.

That feeling lingered, even as she left, even as Swiftdance escorted her, even as the sun-scorched rocks burned beneath her paws. And even as she washed the scent of another molly from her fur in the tide pools, she couldn’t shake the smile tugging at her whiskers.

It was late at night when Wolfstar pulled Lynxdawn from her nest. The kits were snoring, curled up in a warm heap, undisturbed as their mother stepped out into the cool night air.

Blinking sleep from her eyes, Lynxdawn yawned widely. "What’s going on?"

"I had a dream. I think it was a vision." Wolfstar shuffled her paws, glancing around as if making sure they were alone.

It took Lynxdawn a moment to realize they were. No Shadowdive or Mallowstripe trailing at Wolfstar’s heels, no comforting presence flanking their leader. The sight was unsettling—Wolfstar was rarely alone, let alone looking this shaken.

The silence pressed heavy between them, thick as the salt in the air. "Can we go to the waves?" Wolfstar asked, her voice quiet but urgent.

"Yeah." Lynxdawn yawned again but followed the white molly to the edge of camp, where the ocean kissed the shore.

Technically, they had stepped beyond the camp’s boundaries, just past the jagged rocks that marked the entrance. But they were still visible from the dens, and the crashing waves muffled any conversation, granting the illusion of privacy.

The cool water lapping at Lynxdawn’s paws woke her fully. "What did you see?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence. Wolfstar was not often one to hold back.

"I was here." Wolfstar murmured, pressing a paw into the wet sand. "But the sand was white—like old bones. And the sea was red."

Lynxdawn stiffened. This was surely a vision. "Did anything happen?"

Wolfstar hesitated. "A cat rose from the waves, their fur blending into the bloody water. Their eyes—her eyes—were gone. Just empty, black holes."

A shiver ran down Lynxdawn’s spine. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to retreat from the tide, to step away from the lapping water. But she stayed firm.

"Her jaw hung open," Wolfstar continued, voice barely above a whisper. "I could see everything inside—her teeth, the soft flesh of her mouth. She rose from the horizon, walking on the water like it was solid ground. Closer and closer, until I couldn’t move. I woke up when she pressed her nose—if she had one—to mine."

The wind picked up then, tugging at their fur. Lynxdawn swallowed, the vision digging cold claws into her stomach.

"This was surely a vision," she said firmly, though her own conviction wavered. Her gaze flicked to her leader, studying her haggard expression. "But from who? That’s the question."

Wolfstar’s jaw clenched. "Do you think... do you think it wasn’t StarClan that led me here?"

Lynxdawn balked, her breath hitching. "How could you say that? You met Nettletuft! Clouddawn practically raised me!"

Wolfstar flinched. "I know! Maybe they did lead us here, but it feels like... like something else set this in motion."

The wind died suddenly, an eerie stillness settling over them, as if the coast itself held its breath.

"We need faith now more than ever," Lynxdawn said, voice steady despite the dread curling in her belly. "We were ordained by StarClan many times. You can’t forget that."

Wolfstar was silent, her hackles raised as she stared out at the sea. When she finally turned back, Lynxdawn recoiled at the wild look in her eyes—red-rimmed, bloodshot, frantic.

"Do you think the prophecies about us were sent by the Dark Forest?" Wolfstar’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but the words felt like a snarl in Lynxdawn’s ears.

A sickening chill twisted in Lynxdawn’s gut. The image of her kits, sleeping soundly in their nest, grounded her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were suddenly... unprotected.

"We should go back." She straightened, hackles rising. Everything felt wrong out here—the ocean, the air, and most of all, the way Wolfstar was looking at her.

But Wolfstar wasn’t finished. "Do you think StarClan sent us here to correct what was told to my mother? Doesn’t it feel like we aren’t welcome here?"

"We are blessed by StarClan!" Lynxdawn snapped, stepping back.

"There’s something else here, Lynxdawn." Wolfstar’s voice was a hiss, her eyes gleaming feverishly. "Something that was here before us. And it wants us out."

Lynxdawn reared onto her hind legs and shoved her. Wolfstar collapsed into the wet sand with a startled gasp as the waves rushed over her, soaking her fur.

"Enough!" Lynxdawn barked, breath coming fast.

Wolfstar coughed, sputtering as seawater stung her nose. But as she sat up, something in her posture shifted. Her body sagged, the manic glint in her eyes dimming, as if she had just woken from a fever dream.

"I’m sorry," she murmured, shaking out her drenched fur. "I don’t know why I said that. I’m just... I’m so worried. I don’t know what to do."

Lynxdawn exhaled, still rattled but unwilling to let her leader suffer alone. "I’ll make us some tea for the stress," she offered. "Maybe it’ll help us sleep tonight. We’ll talk more in the morning."

They pressed their foreheads together, purring despite the unease still coiled in their chests.

As they turned to leave, something blocked their path.

Lynxdawn stopped short, her stomach dropping like a stone. "Was that there before?"

Wolfstar stepped in front of her, bristling. "No."

A dark shape lay in their way, its scent curling into Lynxdawn’s nose—a mix of feathers and fish. Wolfstar padded forward cautiously, eyes scanning the darkness for an unseen enemy.

"It’s a puffin," she murmured.

They drew closer. Lynxdawn hesitated before lowering her nose to inspect the bird. Its scent was fresh. Too fresh.

"Wolfstar," she whispered, voice trembling. "Look at it."

Wolfstar crouched beside her, peering at the lifeless bird. "It’s covered in claw marks."

The words felt like ice sliding down Lynxdawn’s spine. The scent of blood was sharp in the air. Wounds marred the puffin’s body—deep, deliberate. Its wings were stretched out unnaturally, as if it had been flying when it died.

"I’ve never seen a dead bird look like that." Wolfstar swallowed, glancing around the darkness.

Lynxdawn’s breath hitched. "This was placed here." Her voice was barely audible over the crashing waves. "This was placed here by something."

Sage, rosemary, tansy.

The words echoed in Lynxdawn’s mind like a drumbeat.

Those were the essentials for protective channeling—the bare minimum she needed to safely invoke a patron.

But was it enough?

She clenched her jaw, scanning the shelves of her den.

Cedar for banishment. Thistles to ward off spirits. Hawthorn, betony, thyme—any of those could add another layer of protection.

But what about clarity? If she was calling on a patron for guidance, shouldn’t she include something for that too? Calendula? Lilac? Eyebright was too scarce, but maybe a rarer herb would make the ritual stronger?

A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes. With an irritated grunt, she snatched a dried dandelion from the shelf and chewed it, hoping it would ease her headache.

Mullein. That could work. Burned, it cleansed the spirit of nightmares and possession. She could mix it with beeswax and tallow to make a torch.

Or yarrow. Or mugwort. Or nettles. Or—

“No, basil’s for tools and prosperity,” she muttered, exasperated.

“What is?”

Lynxdawn jumped, fur bristling. She spun around to find Shadowdive standing at the den’s entrance, his dark fur nearly indistinguishable from the shadows behind him.

“Basil,” she said, voice hoarse. “It’s for tools and prosperity.” Her ears drooped with exhaustion. “What are you doing up?”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Wolfstar’s on guard, Mallowstripe’s with your kits. Figured I might as well be useful.”

Lynxdawn exhaled sharply, turning back to the shelves. “No offense, but I don’t think you’ll be much help with this.”

Shadowdive didn’t move. He just leaned against the entrance, watching her.

“What’s the issue?” His voice was low, almost gentle.

She huffed, annoyed at herself as much as at him. “I don’t know what herbs to use for the ritual.”

“The channeling ritual?”

She nodded, ears flicking as he stepped inside and sat beside her.

“What’s it for?” His tail brushed against hers.

She hesitated, feeling foolish. “It’s for cleansing and protection.”

His expression darkened into a glare. “I knew that, mouse-brain. I meant, what kind of cleansing?”

Lynxdawn scowled, but at least the embarrassment subsided. “Spiritual cleansing.”

He gestured to the shelves with a large paw. “At least one of these should work, right?”

“That’s the problem!” she groaned. “I have ten different herbs that could work, and I don’t know which to pick.”

Shadowdive tilted his head, ears brushing against hers. “Can’t you just use all of them? Like, one leaf each?”

“That’s not how this works, Shadowdive.” She knocked her head against his shoulder in mild annoyance. "It needs to be a specific combination."

"You don't know the recipe?" Shadowdive asked incredulously. "Shouldn’t this have been part of your training?"

Lynxdawn threw her head back with a groan, tail lashing. "That’s just not how it works!"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Then explain it. I’ve never seen this stuff before."

She sighed, rubbing her face with a paw. "I haven’t either. That’s the hard part about being a cleric. The ritual I’m trying to perform is called invocation—I’m trying to invoke a cat from StarClan. To do that, I need to use the right combination of herbs and items."

Shadowdive’s gaze flicked over the shelves. "And if you use the wrong ones?"

"Either I summon no one... or the wrong patron—one that won’t cleanse or protect us."

His whiskers twitched. "Oh, like how camp keepers invoke Scorchstar to start fires on rainy days." He absently peeked into a bowl on the lower shelf, sniffing at the fine green powder inside.

"Kinda," Lynxdawn said, pulling the bowl away from him with slow, deliberate care, eyeing him like she would an overeager kit. "That’s just prayer—hoping Scorchstar hears and has the ability to help. What I’m doing is channeling. It’s different. The herbs and items act as a sort of sacrifice, eh more like an exchange."

He flicked an ear, nodding for her to continue.

"It’s like saying, ‘Here’s the spiritual energy of these items. Please use it to help me.’ But each herb works differently. Like this one—" She held up a stalk of dried mullein. "Mullein protects against nightmares and spiritual enemies."

"That would help us now, right?" He sniffed it cautiously.

"Yes, but not enough." She set it aside. "It’d protect against nightmares and visions, but we’d still be vulnerable to physical attacks. A strong dark spirit could cause real harm if we aren’t careful."

"Then let’s find something to use with it," he suggested.

She scowled, feeling like she was back at step one. "That’s the problem. What’s the right combination? What’s the next herb?" She huffed, glancing toward the entrance where the sky was beginning to lighten.

Morning was close. Soon, everyone would expect her to walk out of this den with a perfect plan to fix everything.

"Well," Shadowdive said, snapping her out of her thoughts, "what would you use for physical protection?"

She hesitated, and he nudged her. "No thinking. You already know."

Lynxdawn rolled her eyes but answered immediately. "Burdock—it protects the camp and dens."

"And outside of camp?"

She smiled as the answer came easily. "Tansy—it prevents injury and enhances intuition."

"Perfect. What about cleansing?"

"Rosemary clears the mind of doubt. Thyme and sage are good for purifying physical spaces." She pulled a few jars down.

Shadowdive purred, bumping his head against hers. "Anything else?" His tone was smug, but she let it slide.

For the first time in hours, she felt like she was getting somewhere.

Lynxdawn frowned at the gathered herbs, her tail-tip twitching. Was this truly enough? Was it the right combination?

Shadowdive nudged her shoulder again. "You're overthinking it."

She scoffed. "You make it sound easy."

"It is." He stood, stretching. "You’re the expert. You know what you're doing. And if you don’t—" he gave a pointed glance at the herbs, "—figure it out like you always do."

She sighed but didn't argue. He was right, even if she hated to admit it. "I just wish I had more time."

"You don’t," he said bluntly. "Sun’s coming up."

Lynxdawn cast a glance toward the entrance, where the first pale light of dawn was creeping in. Soon, the others would be waking. Soon, they would all be looking to her.

"Then I better get started," she muttered.

Shadowdive hesitated, then flicked her ear with his tail. "Good luck." And with that, he slipped out of the den, his dark fur melting into the disappearing shadows.

Lynxdawn turned back to the herbs, taking a deep breath. No more doubts. No more second-guessing.

She reached for the rosemary first.

Time to call upon the stars.

Cat Allegiances:

Wolfstar- 22 moons. Leader. Responsible. Compassionate. Natural intuition. Apprentice- Ripplepaw.

Lynxdawn- 17 moons. Lead Cleric. Thoughtful. Loving→Faithful. Good teacher.

Snowspeckle- 33 moons. Deputy. Artisan. Loving. Thoughtful. Good singer.

Nightleap- 37 moons. Warrior. Insecure. Sneaky. Incredible runner.

Mallowstripe- 23 moons. Camp keeper. Nervous. Careful. Strange dreamer.

Shadowdive- 21 moons. Warrior. Blood thirsty. Loyal. Good swimmer. Apprentice- Otterpaw.

Ripplepaw - 9 moons. Warrior apprentice. Troublesome. Fearless→ Adventurous. Fast runner. Mentor- Wolfstar.

Otterpaw - 9 moons. Warrior apprentice. Attention seeker→Insecure. Bouncy. Good swimmer. Mentor- Shadowdive.

Dropletkit- 4 moons. Skittish. Shy. Interested in clan history.

Kelpkit- 4 moons. Charming. Quiet. Plays in mud.

Coralkit- 4 moons. Noisy. Bossy. Never sits still.

Sandkit- 4 moons. Impulsive. Noisy. Moss ball hunter

Moon 0

#clangen #warrior cats #wc #saltclan #moon 16 #saltclan moon update

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