#mistlestar

[whistleclan]

MISTLESTAR: INTRO

[The leaves are beginning to fall, and the wind has begun to pick up. You know what that means - and it's even more evident whenever you lift your nose and smell the crisp air. It must finally be leaf-fall. At long last.]

[Leading a clan is a lot of hard work, and leaf-fall is your favorite season.]

[Your name is MISTLESTAR. You're the leader of WHISTLECLAN, a recently founded clan that joined the neighboring ones. Your territory is flat plains, where you and your clanmates run like the wind and tunnel deep into the earth.]

[You aren't positive of your own skills as the leader, and though your clanmates trust you deeply, you tend to be a bit insecure of your own ability. On top of it, you're extremely paranoid. But that isn't your fault... it's only like that because of your innate sense of the ghosts that wander these plains.]

[As you walk through the camp, you come across the sight of two cats trying their best to ignore a noisy kit.]

[Giving MILKWEEDKIT a small smile, you turn your attention to the two cats who are trying to hide their obvious annoyance of the small cat.]

SLATEBURN: Oh... hey, Mistlestar! How are you doing today?

[That cat is SLATEBURN, your deputy. He's always been a good speaker and a natural storyteller. His intuition is hard to match, and the two of you are good friends.]

EMBERSPOT: Milkweedkit has a story today. Care to sit in on it?

[EMBERSPOT is one of the warriors in the clan. He's a little bit of trouble, if you're honest.]

MISTLESTAR: Oh, uh... no, no thank you. Sorry, I... have somewhere to be.

[You rush past the two cats and continue on your way. Milkweedkit's stories can go on forever, and you still have patrols to welcome back.]

[When you continue on, you run into two more warriors returning from a patrol, clearly halting their gossip to address you.]

FAWNHOWL: Hey, Mistlestar. How goes it? Easy hunting today! Hah! Not that I had any doubt!

[FAWNHOWL is a confident sort, but she definitely has the skill to back it up.]

FLIPSWAN: Fawnhowl did well. She always does. I expect nothing less of her.

[FLIPSWAN is Fawnhowl's mate, and she's always taking care of things around the camp. She SEEMS really nice, but there's... something off about her.]

[After exchanging some pleasantries, you're off on your way once again.]

[You find one of the warriors sharing some ideas with the apprentices.]

MOTTLEDSPECK: - so as you can see, it's really important not to try and tear off at your full speed until you're sure of the direction you're headed.

[MOTTLEDSPECK is a quick-runner, and he's certain one day he'll be the fastest cat in all the world.]

[The apprentices are... vaguely listening. Their names are SLIGHTPAW and WISTERIAPAW. The two of them share a heightened sense of justice, and a desire to grow into a member of your clan's important history.]

[There's only one last cat you want to check on before you go about your business, so you head to the medicine den.]

BRIARSWAN: Oh, Mistlestar! How nice it is to see you out and about. How are you doing? How's the er... ghost problem?

[BRIARSWAN is not only a phenomenal medicine cat, but he's also the kindest cat you've ever known.]

[The question makes you pause. Briarswan is the only cat who knows of your visions of ghosts along the plains.]

MISTLESTAR: Nothing too bad today. Maybe it was just nerves after all.

BRIARSWAN: Whatever the case, you know I'm always here for you.

[What a lovely clan you have. You feel pride swell in your chest. This is YOUR clan. You hope you can do them proud.]

INTRO END.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 11

Parsley attends the Gathering (under Fennelspot’s observation).

[Image ID: Parsley and Fennelspot sit below a large brown stone, where Autumnstar, Mistlestar, Gorgestar, Sanderlingstar, and Downstar sit. Under Downstar, it says - CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Oilstripe and Puddlespeckle are in the far back while Scrubmask is standing to the side. Parsley says “I’ll tell ya, Mr. Fennelspot… your Clans are strange.” Below her, it says + CONDITION UPGRADE: INFECTED.]

“You really take this walk every moon?” Parsley groaned as she walked alongside Fennelspot in the RippleClan line-up. Downstar, fully recovered from the strain of birth, led the small Gathering patrol along the border between SlugClan and WheatClan. The AshClan delegation, which had more cats than Parsley had ever seen in one place, wandered ahead. Its members occasionally glanced back at RippleClan’s smalls numbers; Downstar, Weedfoot, Fennelspot, Parsley, Scrubmask, Oilstripe, and Puddlespeckle. Many of those eyes focused on Parsley.

“Well, I walk the first portion on the half-moon before the Gathering,” Fennelspot explained. “I have to visit StarClan’s Shrine.”

“And does AshClan escort you there, too?” Parsley mumbled, glaring at the large ginger and white figure at the front of the giant group. His mangled tail bounced high above his flank. Parsley wasn’t convinced the “nine lives” story was anything more than folklore to improve the leader’s image, but if leaders did get nine lives, judging by the scars covering Autumnstar’s body, he had most certainly lost a few by now.

“They used to,” Oilstripe chirped behind the pair. “Downstar got them to stop this moon.” She squeezed between Fennelspot and Parsley.

“Now I thought RippleClan was sovereign,” Parsley huffed. “Why did Autumnstar make such a fuss about us waiting at the border for AshClan?”

“It’s early RippleClan history!” Oilstripe explained. “When StarClan gave the Clans their blessing to form RippleClan, AshClan had to give up some of their land to us as payback for killing the Ashes in the Water, Weedfoot’s group of friends. Autumnstar only agreed to acknowledge RippleClan as a real Clan if they could escort us whenever we had to cross past their territory. It sucks, but it means they aren’t trying to kill us, so for now, we put up with it. They gotta escort us to Gatherings or Autumnstar said he’ll chase us out.”

“So much for independence,” Parsley huffed. “That’s just not right. I’m sure the other Clans don’t need a kitsitter.”

“We’re working on it,” Fennelspot groaned as the two Clans reached a harsh cliff face. A small path snaked up the side of a harsh wall of brown stone that stuck out of the sweeping, rugged hills that marked most of the area. Moss and leaves peeked out of the cracks and a small trickle of water flowed into a pool of clay to the side. Pawprints covered the clay deposit as memories of artisans harvesting clay for their terracotta. A narrow path wound its way up the slope. Voices chirped from somewhere up top. Autumnstar led AshClan up the cliff in two neat lines, but Downstar raised her tail and everyone in RippleClan stopped.

“Aren’t we going to join them?” Parsley huffed.

“RippleClan will make its own entrance,” Downstar explained. “Scrubmask, do you have our goods?” Scrubmask carried a basket filled with as many mussels as she and Carnationpaw could find. Parsley hadn’t realized cats were capable of crafting such things until her arrival over a moon prior. Scrubmask lifted the basket at her leader’s call. The mussel shells clattered together inside. Autumnstar yowled when he reached the top of the cliff and all the cats of AshClan launched up and out of sight.

“Stay together when we enter,” Weedfoot said, looking over her shoulder as Downstar flicked her tail and climbed the path up. 

“The Gathering can be really exciting,” Fennelspot explained as RippleClan followed Downstar, “but I want you to stay by me tonight, and let me know if your tail starts to hurt too much.” Parsley didn’t like lying, so she didn’t respond. Her tail burned and the exposed skin underneath her cobweb bandages stunk. Fennelspot said the wounds were infected and rarely left Parsley’s side. Even so, when RippleClan returned from the last Gathering, the way they spoke of the event pushed Parsley to ignore her pain and demand a place at the next one.

Since moving her tail too much made the burning worse, she couldn’t use it to balance along the narrow path. Fennelspot walked along the edge and kept her paws steady. Eventually, she made it to the top of the cliff, where Downstar and Weedfoot patiently waited for the rest of the Clanmates. They waited until every member of the patrol climbed onto the rich spring grass before they led RippleClan as a united group through a thick line of ferns and trees that concealed the Gathering Clearing.

Parsley thought AshClan was crowded, but the size of the crowd within the Gathering Clearing stole her breath. Never, in over a hundred moons of living, had she seen so many cats. There was a chance that there were more cats in this one clearing than Parsley had ever met. Every color pelt was on display, sitting on stones and hard ground ripping out of the grass, as cats from four different Clans gathered around a giant rock. It was a bulky, golden-brown structure as tall as two humans. Three cats stood on flat platforms scattered around the stone. Autumnstar climbed up the stone onto the highest platform. Downstar approached the rock and hopped onto the lowest platform. 

“You’ll be able to interact with the other Clans once the leaders make their announcements,” Fennelspot whispered. “For now, stay here.”

“Well, you’ll need to tell me who is who,” Parsley whispered back. “And will you please throw in a few pronouns? I can’t understand why you Clan cats always assume things.”

“Parsley, you’re a Clan cat now,” Scrubmask reminded her. 

“Greetings, everyone!” Autumnstar yowled from on top of the Leader’s Stone. “Welcome to the second Gathering of the new year. AshClan will start this moon’s announcements, as we have much to be proud of.”

“Is he always like this?” Parsley asked. She must have said that a bit too loud, as Autumnstar’s huge yellow eyes locked onto her. His frost-bite scars looked like open blisters in the light of the small fire lit in front of the Leader’s Stone. Parsley would have tucked her tail if she could have moved it.

“I am excited to announce,” Autumnstar continued, looking back over the crowd, “that some of my grandchildren have finished their apprenticeships and now stand before you as adults, capable of handling any threat that comes their way. Tonight, please give warm praises to Burningpath, Nettlestep, and Crimsonrun, the newest artisans and codekeepers of AshClan!” The Clans chanted the three names as three cats, each with ginger pelts, stood with their chins and tails high. Even RippleClan chanted the new names, so Parsley joined along. She kept going a bit too long after everyone’s excitement faded.

“Beyond that joyous occasion,” Autumnstar said, “we must mention that a black bear has come out of hibernation near the land of the Clans and crossed the Great Northern River into our territory. It took the life of one of our strongest caretakers, Sundream, while on patrol. The bear has crossed the river once more, but be on the lookout, for it may continue wandering the Clans. The rest of this moon has been typical for us. Mistlestar, would you like to go next?” Autumnstar nodded to a dark red cat on the second highest platform.

“Mistlestar is LynxClan’s leader,” Fennelspot explained quickly. “They’re neither a tom nor a molly. They keep their announcements short.”

“LynxClan is strong,” Mistlestar huffed. “No new kits, apprentices, or graduates, although Whitestripe expects her kits before the next Gathering. An uneventful moon for us.” They sat and wrapped their tail over their paws. They glanced down at the two leaders who shared the second lowest platform. One had long, dark fur, and sat with their back legs splayed out. The other was white with a pale brown back and a round figure. They muttered to one another, trying to decide who would make announcements first.

“So these two lead SlugClan and WheatClan?” Parsley asked.

“Gorgestar is SlugClan’s leader,” Fennelspot sighed, pointing his tail at the long-furred cat. “He’s a good leader. I did my best after his fall, but I couldn’t restore his back legs.” Fennelspot’s tone dropped as he said that. “The other cat is Sanderlingstar, from WheatClan. She’s been a leader the longest, even though Autumnstar is older.”

“SlugClan has received a blessing from StarClan this moon,” Gorgestar suddenly said, startling a few cats in the crowd. “On the night of the half-moon, just as Bubblemoon returned from StarClan’s Shrine, Scaleshine and Leafear had a litter of nine kits. A quarter moon has passed, and all nine have survived so far. They’ve each been given wonderful names and are growing well.” Cheers and excitement rose in the crowd. 

“Are they well-fed?” Mistlestar asked.

“Bubblemoon is making sure every kit has their chance to eat and Scaleshine is not exhausted,” Gorgestar explained. “However, he needs to stay at her call to ensure her good health. SlugClan may call upon one of our neighbors for a spare cleric, should the need arise.”

“LynxClan has three to spare,” Mistlestar said with a nod. “We will help.”

“Thank you, Mistlestar,” Gorgestar purred. “That’s all for SlugClan. Sanderlingstar?” Sanderlingstar groaned and stretched, licking her lips as she looked over the crowd.

“WheatClan welcomes a new cleric apprentice by the name of Thistlepaw,” Sanderlingstar sighed. “She joins the apprentice’s den with her littermate, Fogpaw, who trains as a mediator.” The crowd cheered the names of the new apprentices. This time, Parsley made sure to stop chanting sooner rather than later. “Meanwhile, our oldest elder, Rockback, peacefully joined StarClan this moon. His last words, as he wanted everyone to know, were ‘It’s about time.’” WheatClan chuckled and various cats gave a bit of polite laughter, but AshClan was the loudest, fully giving into the dark humor. “WheatClan has fully embraced the spring growth and has new goods to trade, if any mediators or artisans want to visit our borders. Now I’m curious as to what our youngest Clan has been up to.” Sanderlingstar draped her paws over the edge of the platform as all the leaders looked down upon Downstar.

“It’s been quiet in RippleClan,” Downstar admitted. “My apprentice, Carnationpaw, has helped us collect some seaside goods for trade. We’ve brought some mussels with us for the communal soup, but they can be eaten raw as well.” Scrubmask stood on a rock so everyone could see her basket. “Beyond that, our kits are healthy and our camp is secure.”

“Well, that’s not really everything,” Sanderlingstar pointed out. “You’ve brought that loner you found with you tonight!” A hundred pairs of eyes fell on Parsley. Her fur bristled. She wasn’t doing anything wrong by being here!

“We told the Clans about Parsley last moon,” Downstar reminded the Gathering, blissfully pulling some eyes away from Parsley. “She’s a part of RippleClan now, and she is allowed to join us at Gatherings.”

“She’s caused trouble around AshClan in the past,” Autumnstar growled. His brutal eyes once again tore into Parsley. “I didn’t recognize her at first, but I remember reports of a self-righteous loner with a single white paw berating our patrols for doing their jobs.”

“And I remember a bunch of dim-witted killers screaming at me whenever I got within sight of them,” Parsley snapped. “I never crossed your borders but your warriors always harassed me. Of course, your Clan seems built on harassing others, isn’t it?” The crowd gasped and oooed at Parsley’s words while Autumnstar hissed. Oilstripe and Weedfoot cheered her on. 

“Enough, everyone,” Mistlestar huffed before the Clans got too rowdy. “Is that all, Downstar?” Downstar nodded, defiantly staring up at Autumnstar.

“Your new Warrior is a troublemaker, Downstar,” Autumnstar grumbled. “Let the Gathering begin!” The five Clans swarmed one another. Old friends touched noses and the scent of each group overwhelmed Parsley’s nose. Oilstripe and Puddlespeckle vanished into the crowd. Scrubmask approached a large oven with her basket of mussels. Weedfoot joined Downstar by the Leader’s Stone. 

“Well, what now then?” Parsley asked, eyes darting around the chaos.

“We socialize for a while until our Clan decides to leave,” Fennelspot explained, glancing between Parsley and Autumnstar. “Oilstripe will likely stay longer, though. There’s something called an Aftergathering once the leaders take their Clans home. It’s more relaxed than a regular Gathering.”

“This is already rather relaxed, don’tcha think?” Parsley chuckled. She groaned and stared at the huge crowd around her. “I’ll tell ya, Mr. Fennelspot… your Clans are strange.”

“You were so brave back there!” A young voice gasped. A murky gray kitten with a swirling pelt danced in front of Parsley. “You really showed AshClan up! I hope I can be like you when I graduate! I’m Fogpaw!” Fogpaw touched their nose to Parsley’s. Parsley stared for a few moments, unsure what to do next.

“Well, hi there,” she gulped. “She and her for me, please.”

“Why specify that when your scent matches?” Fogpaw asked, cocking their head. “Then again, maybe that makes sense, I mean, I’ll be telling everyone I use they and them my whole life, so I know some cats have to specify, but cats won’t really mess up for you. What was life like as a loner?” Huh. So this was a Gathering. Parsley could handle it.

“I’ve got a few stories if you’ve got time to hear them,” Parsley purred. Fogpaw nodded so hard, it looked like their head would come off. Parsley settled beside the young apprentice and did her best to enjoy her first Gathering.

(Parsley: 105, female, warrior, righteous, good speaker)

(Fennelspot: 68, male, cleric, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Oilstripe: 15, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

(Downstar: 70, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Weedfoot: 60, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Scrubmask: 28, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Autumnstar: 115, male, leader, fierce, great hunter)

(Mistlestar: 78, agender (they/them), leader, cold, steady paws, excellent fire-starter)

(Gorgestar: 89, male, leader, sincere, excellent teacher)

(Sanderlingstar: 100, female, leader, childish, skilled toolsmith)

(Fogpaw: 6, non-binary (they/them), mediator apprentice, oblivious, interested in oddities)

[quiverpaw]

local guy kills nine-lived leader, more at eleven

[fluffclan]

Can y'all look at tumblr, or just post? If yes to the former.. What kind of content do you each like??

(//ooc: featuring all my favourite clangen blogs!! Go check them out!!)

Rustbee and Mossfrog belong to @fallenclan

Rimestar and Foxflit belong to @bitterclan

Pachirisu belongs to @sporeclan Belle belongs to @almaraclan

Mistlestar and Slightpaw belong to @whistleclan

Rainpaw belongs to @cats-of-rainclan

Coniferpaw belongs to @castaway-clan

Luckpaw belongs to @lotusclans-luck

Fieldfeather belongs to @gray-thistleclan

Sootsnow belongs to @chasing-faith-and-fate

Bleakpaw and Howlkit belong to @dawn-clan

[foxtailcafe]

Art of my oc, Mistlestar!

Btw this is my new account, my old account is: @theonefnaffan

[hopeclan-blog]

Asks are open for Hopeclan!

The cats that you can talk to as of right now are Copperrise and Mistlestar!

The rules that I have for asks are to just keep it appropriate, and I don't think I really have to spell out inbox etiquette.

Happy to see what you guys wish to ask!

[zorceus]

Mistlestar and Flamestar, my father / daughter leader duo in ClanGen.

Mistlestar made Flamestar (then Flameeyes) his deputy after his previous one died, and aince she was his one surviving kit, I believe she should take over, which she would after his death.

They have long since passed on, and roam StarClan together.

Down below is what they looked like in Clangen :)

[thistlefur]

Mistletoe

Future leader of EchoClan. Former kittypet. Son of PawPaw and Bingo. Brother of Holly, Chestnut, Snowflake, and Nicholas. Mate to Badgertooth. Apprentice of Foreststar.

[icicle-rain]

this was a home once now the ceilings falling, i feel the rain this was a home once with so much love some so much pain

these are a couple characters from my warriors story burning dawn. the guy in the fire is flarepaw, the son of mistlestar (who’s at the top watching). this is a redraw of an older piece which is below the cut.

speedpaint

old speedpaint

old artwork:

[whistleclan]

MISTLESTAR: MOON 1

BRIARSWAN: Mistlestar...? Are you awake?

[You shuffle your head to look over at your friend and medicine cat. He's looking at you with the same compassionate smile as always, but something seems off about his demeanor. There's a tremble to his voice. You lift your head up.]

MISTLESTAR: Is something the matter, Briarswan?

BRIARSWAN: Please... just try to understand...

[You watch as Briarswan paws a small cat out from behind him. A kit. One that isn't of your clan normally.]

[You stammer for a few moments, and try to ask Briarswan about the origins of the small, mewling mass. He doesn't seem keen on talking about it.]

[You aren't one to turn away a kitten, so you nod and tell Briarswan that you'll discuss this more later.]

SLATEBURN: Hey, Mistlestar. Just wanted to let you know I'm headed to Briarswan. He's nervous I may have come down with something... I'll do my best to keep up with my duties until I'm better.

SLIGHTPAW: [The young apprentice doesn't quite seem to be on their best game this training session.]

MISTLESTAR: Slightpaw... is something bothering you?

[Upon hearing your question, the apprentice stops in their tracks. They hesitate for a moment, and then start speaking.]

SLIGHTPAW: I've been having a hard time sleeping. Recently, I feel like I've been having constant nightmares. I see these shadowy cats, sometimes they seem like they're dripping with blood. I don't know what it means.

SLIGHTPAW: I want to do my best. It's not fair that I keep seeing it. I feel like it's a bad omen- am I doing something wrong, Mistlestar?

[The words make you stumble a bit. Shadowy cats...? Your mind drifts as you think of the ghosts you've been seeing, but you bring yourself back down to earth. You need to be there for Slightpaw.]

[You put your tail against his back.]

MISTLESTAR: Sometimes... nightmares are just nightmares. And if it turns out to mean something, we'll help you, Slightpaw. You're doing wonderful, okay? There's a reason I chose to mentor you specifically, you know.

[That seems to have cheered them up.]

[As you're having a conversation, you watch Fawnhowl limping on a mangled leg back to the medicine cat den.]

MISTLESTAR: ...What happened?

FAWNHOWL: I tried to catch a rabbit over the Burrowclan border. They just caught me on a bad day- any other and I'd-

[You glare at Fawnhowl, and that seems to make her go quiet.]

[whistleclan]

What do Mistlestar’s relationships look like at this point? Do they have anyone they’d consider a best friend, or anyone they dislike?

[You think about your clanmates for an evening, and two particular faces come to mind...]

[Fawnhowl, despite being a bit boastful and occasionally involving herself in trouble, is always a trusted companion you feel you can count on. Her skills are truly impressive, and she's gotten you out of a few jams herself. She was one of the cats you considered for deputy, but in all honesty you believe that she could do with a little more self discipline before considering the role of a clan leader in the future.]

[Flipswan is in a similar boat. She's always taken very good care of things around the camp, and due to your friendship with Fawnhowl you've come to know her mate quite a bit as well. Flipswan might be a little... eccentric, but she's a loyal clanmate, through and through.]

[Other than that... you could very much stand to know your clanmates more. Perhaps its your insecurity getting in the way... or maybe the paranoia.]

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 18

Both RippleClan and AshClan tire of the war, wishing for it to end.

[Image ID: Rabbitjoy and Weedfoot sit to the right and face Eelgrowl and Shellstripe, a golden tabby. Eelgrowl says “I don’t expect you to understand, but Autumnstar and I are doing what we think is right.”]

“I don’t like this, Rabbitjoy,” Weedfoot muttered as Rabbitjoy led her toward the AshClan border. Since the Gathering had only occurred the day before, the moon was almost full and shone through thin clouds high above. Longest Night was still half a moon off, but lately, whenever Weedfoot left camp, the sun was gone or on its way out. There had yet to be any snowfall, leaving the duo to avoid twigs and leaves as they got closer to the deeper stretches of forest.

“I’m not happy about it either, Weedy,” Rabbitjoy admitted, glancing over her shoulder. “I wanted to spend my Gathering with my family in WheatClan, not hashing out secret meetings with AshClan mediators.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them to trick me into their claws,” Weedfoot sighed. “I don’t know why else they would ask me to come with you.”

“I’m trying to have an open mind,” Rabbitjoy gulped. “A new name means a new mindset and all that.” Rabbitjoy nearly crossed the freshly marked border before she caught herself and stepped back. The AshClan border was back to its old spot from moons prior, but the scent of both Clans was thicker than ever before. There was already two cats waiting for them on the other side. Shellstripe, a wirey golden mediator with a white-dipped face, stood with shifting paws beside a scratched tree. An oh-so-familiar tom with burnt paws stood tall beside him.

“Rabbitjoy, get back,” Weedfoot growled. She stood in front of her long-lost friend and stared at Eelgrowl with all the burning hate she wished she could show at Gatherings.

“Why would I ask for you if all I wanted to do was hurt you?” Eelgrowl huffed.

“Why would you want to talk to me at all?” Weedfoot snapped.

“He wasn’t trying to kill Paleshade, Weedfoot,” Shellstripe stammered, inching close to the border. “He didn’t mean for her to die. We couldn’t disobey Autumnstar.” Rabbitjoy’s tail slunk between her legs.

“We aren’t here to talk about that, Shellstripe,” Eelgrowl sighed, resting his tail on Shellstripe’s back. “Weedfoot doesn’t want to hear it, anyway.”

“Is Autumnstar waiting behind the bushes?” Weedfoot scoffed, peering through the shadows.

“He doesn’t know we’re meeting,” Eelgrowl explained. “He wouldn’t approve of it.”

“But you’ve always been loyal to him,” Rabbitjoy said, peering around Weedfoot. “You were loyal enough to let your Clanmates die. What changed?”

“StarClan did,” Eelgrowl sighed. He sat across from Weedfoot, his narrow face turned to the clouded sky. “I don’t expect you to understand, but Autumnstar and I are doing what we think is right. Autumnstar may not believe the other clerics, but I do. They wouldn’t all lie to us. StarClan has accepted you. Now that your leader’s had the bright idea to declare war, Autumnstar sees RippleClan as a bunch of rogues. He’s taken to calling Downstar by her old name. I won’t see him be damned by the stars for trying to honor them.” There was a weight to Eelgrowl’s tone that reminded Weedfoot of her younger days, when Eelgrowl had nursery duty, when he let the smallest kits play with his pink paws as he explained how dangerous fire could be. Weedfoot stayed half-pressed into Rabbitjoy but pulled her tail over her paws.

“What do you want, then?” Weedfoot said.

“Autumnstar backed down before thanks to pressure from the other Clans,” Eelgrowl explained. “It’s why he didn’t want you to have unfettered access to SlugClan and LynxClan. If you can speak to Gougestar, he could convince Autumnstar to give you the respect you’re owed. Sanderlingstar and Mistlestar want nothing to do with this, but Gorgestar is close to Downstar, isn’t he? He might help.” 

Weedfoot wouldn’t say it aloud, but it was a solid plan. But who would deliver the message, and when? How? WheatClan didn’t want to face AshClan’s wrath by letting RippleClan stroll through their land. If Autumnstar saw them as rogues, what would he do if he saw one of their ranks sneaking toward SlugClan?

“Autumnstar would be furious if he knew you said this,” Weedfoot said softly.

“I’m hoping, when this is over, that I can truly talk to Autumnstar about the future,” Eelgrowl sighed. “I can’t do that until he’s willing to listen. Take my advice or don’t. It’s your pelts that’ll get torn up.” Eelgrowl nudged Shellstripe and the pair turned back home. Rabbitjoy fidgeted as they crossed through the bushes. She licked her lips, pulling into herself.

“Thank you!” she suddenly called just as the tip of Shellstripe’s tail slithered out of sight. She squirmed as though she ate a worm. 

“What do you think, Rabbit?” Weedfoot sighed, still watching the bushes. “Should we bring this up with Downstar?”

“If it’ll make Autumnstar listen?” Rabbitjoy gulped. She straightened out, took a deep breath, and said, “We have to.”

(Weedfoot: 66, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Rabbitjoy: 54, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver)

Locustpaw tells Burdockcreek to count on them.

[Image ID: Locustpaw faces Burdockcreek. Locustpaw says, ““Hey, have I let you down before? I can handle this.” Burdockcreek replies, “I can’t let you take all the credit.” Under him, it says LEVEL UP! CONFIDENT -> COMPETITIVE.]

---

“No,” Rustshade snapped from the depths of Downstar’s den. “We aren’t sending anyone out there, especially not alone!”

“They’re less likely to get caught if they go alone,” Downstar sighed. Locustpaw could hear Downstar sag as she said that from their spot between the Shiprock and the shipwreck itself. Most of RippleClan was still getting out of their nests, but Locustpaw got up early, ready for Weedfoot to give them a new task. Yet when they got up, Weedfoot was in Downstar’s den. According to Scrubmask, who had been on guard duty, she had been there since she got back earlier that night. Why wouldn’t Locustpaw listen in? With AshClan on their tails, everything that went on in Downstar’s den was sure to be important. They had to preserve it for future generations. Yes, that was it.

“But if they are caught, they’ll be at AshClan’s mercy!” Rustshade groaned. “Send Scrubmask! She’s faster.”

“And bigger,” Weedfoot huffed. “Rustshade, I’m sorry, but this isn’t a discussion. We brought you in here because we thought you deserved to know first.”

“Why them?” Rustshade moaned.

“Locustpaw, why are you back there?” Locustpaw peeked around the Shiprock. Burdockcreek stared back at them in plain view of Downstar’s den.

“They’re planning something,” Locustpaw whispered, cocking their ears toward the den. “I think it’s a mission through AshClan territory!” Burdockcreek leaned closer, but his pupils suddenly narrowed.

“They’re coming out!” Burdockcreek hissed, scampering back. Locustpaw backed out of the hidey-hole, emerging on the other side of the Shiprock. A moment later, Weedfoot wandered past, focused on the apprentice’s den. She saw Locustpaw in the corner of her eye and stopped.

“Locustpaw, just who I was looking for,” Weedfoot sighed as Downstar and Rustshade appeared beside her. “We have something important to ask of you.” 

“I’ll do it, whatever it is,” Locustpaw chirped as Burdockcreek listened in.

“We need someone to visit SlugClan,” Downstar explained, getting closer and locking eyes with Locustpaw. “You need to speak to Gorgestar and convince him to pressure Autumnstar into submitting to our demands.”

“It won’t be easy,” Weedfoot added. “AshClan will attack you if they see you. You’re lithe, and smaller than your littermates. We think you have the best chance of getting in and out.”

“Not that I’m not willing,” Locustpaw groaned, “because I am, but why not have Fennelspot pass on the news at the cleric’s meeting?”

“We need an immediate response,” Downstar huffed. “Newtstream attends those meetings, as well. He’ll overhear the news and report back to Autumnstar. He’s more loyal to Autumnstar than StarClan’s wishes.”

“No heroics,” Rustshade grunted, nudging Downstar aside. “This isn’t a battle patrol. You’re just to speak to Gorgestar.”

“I understand, Dad,” Locustpaw said, nodding. “I can go right now. They won’t see me.”

“Wait until sunhigh,” Weedfoot said. “I’ll have Graypaw start the oven and cook some prey. You’ll do better with food in your belly.” She groomed Locustpaw’s neck and added, “I believe in you, Locustpaw.” She touched Locustpaw’s nose and headed for the apprentice’s den. Downstar entered the medicine den and left Rustshade to stare at his child. Locustpaw wasn’t sure what to say, but thankfully, Rustshade broke away for the warrior’s den. Now it was just Locustpaw and Burdockcreek.

“I wish I was going,” Burdockcreek grumbled, sitting beside Locustpaw. “I’m the historian here. Why send an apprentice?”

“I won’t be an apprentice after this,” Locustpaw laughed, kicking their brother. Burdockcreek chuckled, but there was a strain in his face that made Locustpaw pause. They nudged Burdockcreek and added, “Hey, have I let you down before? I can handle this.”

“I can’t let you take all the credit,” Burdockcreek sighed, partially chuckling. “I might have to tell future generations I came along.”

“And I can tell them that you’re a big fat liar,” Locustpaw said, sticking out their tongue. 

(Rustshade: 62, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Downstar: 77, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

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

(Weedfoot: 66, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Burdockcreek: 12, male, historian, competitive, learner of lore)

Locustpaw sacrificed themself by taking on the role of a messenger, delivering important information that could save the clan. They were killed while investigating enemy territory.

[Image ID: Locustpaw faces Autumnstar down. Locustpaw growls, “Heh… hope you’re proud of yourself. I’m coming back to haunt you.” To which Autumnstar huffs, “I’d love to see it, rogue.”]

---

Fennelspot remembered Rustshade telling him how sturdy Rabbitjoy’s baskets were, but now that he got to carry his collection of juniper berries back to camp in one of the most well-woven baskets he’d ever held, he knew he’d have to thank the long-lost artisan for her hard work. He could hold it in his jaws and let it bounce on his chest without chafing or scratching. It was wonderful! The sweet smell of the juniper berries carried him through the trees and lifted his heart for the last stretch back to camp. The ground wasn’t cold enough for the new snowfall to stick quite yet, but Fennelspot was certain the territories would be pure white when he woke up the next morning.

“How are we supposed to bury you?” someone whined. Fennelspot pricked his ears. Was that Oilstripe? He carefully set his basket down. Snowflakes landed on the juniper berries and the tips of Fennelspot’s whiskers.

“No, because how else will Dad know you’re dead?” Oilstripe yowled. Fennelspot stalked toward his Clanmate, his basket forgotten. He hopped over the remnants of a dead fern and clung to the side of a pine. Oilstripe was a few tail-lengths ahead of the cleric, staring into the trees. The fur along her back arched and her droopy tail thrashed about.

“You’re supposed to be back any moment now,” Oilstripe growled. “What am I supposed to tell everyone?” Her tone was not that of malice, but of fear and a deep insecurity, the sort of voice Fennelspot all-too-often heard in his head. He realized she wasn’t staring into the trees, but rather to an empty spot just in front of her.

“Downstar thinks I’m crazy,” Oilstripe whined, her whole body sagging. “Everyone’s seen me talking to myself. Fennelspot won’t believe me. He’ll say I’ve lost my mind, that I’m seeing things. So tell me how I’m supposed to tell them about you, Locustpaw!” A gasp escaped Fennelspot’s mouth before he could stop himself. Oilstripe’s head whipped around. The fear plastered over her eyes made Fennelspot tremble. It only lasted a moment, as she turned back to the empty space with curled lips and a voice that commanded more pity than fear.

“Show him you’re here!” Oilstripe begged. “We both heard the stories, you can do that! Please! I need to know I’m not crazy!” Fennelspot slowly approached Oilstripe like a hunter would approach a skittish rabbit.

“Oilstripe…” Fennelspot gulped.

“But you do have something to tell him!” Oilstripe cried. “You have to tell him you died! Dad can’t wait for the half-moon meeting! He needs to know, and I can’t tell him!” She stomped her paws like an angry kit.

“Oilstripe, do you see Locustpaw standing next to you?” Fennelspot asked softly. “Can you look at me?” Oilstripe growled and squeezed her eyes tight.

“I can’t carry two conversations at once!” she snapped. 

Before she finished speaking, Fennelspot’s ears began to ring. He rubbed his ears to clear the tinnitus, but the sound grew louder. It didn’t sound like typical tinnitus. In fact, Oilstripe seemed bothered too; she rubbed her ears just like Fennelspot did. The sound grew louder and developed new layers. It wasn’t just a humming noise. It was a fast, high-pitched chirping sound. It was thousands of those sounds, thumping and vibrating together. It was a chorus of a thousand—

“Locusts,” Fennelspot gasped.

“I guess she wasn’t crazy after all,” a disembodied voice whispered, the sound mixed with the chirping of the unseen locusts. With that, the sound faded as quickly as it arrived. Oilstripe was out of breath, glancing between Fennelspot and the empty space he no longer believed was actually empty.

“You heard that?” Oilstripe asked. “Please say you did.”

“You can speak to StarClan?” Fennelspot whispered. He sat before he realized he needed to and stared at where he could only assume Locustpaw’s spirit lingered.

[Image ID: Fennelspot and Oilstripe face each other. Fennelspot says “You aren’t a cleric. How can you see StarClan wherever they wander, while I barely see them over the course of the year?”]

“I see them when they visit, even if they don’t want me to,” Oilstripe gulped. She slowly approached Fennelspot and sat across from him. “I’ve seen them since Twinekit died.”

“You aren’t a cleric,” Fennelspot stammered, suddenly conscious of how his posture slumped and his claws plucked at the dead grass. “How can you see StarClan wherever they wander, while I barely see them over the course of the year?”

“I didn’t ask to see them,” Oilstripe huffed, “it just happened. Why do you think I asked you to teach me how StarClan works?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fennelspot whined.

“Would you have believed me?” Oilstripe snapped with a thrash of her tail. “I tried telling Downstar that Duskkit was sorry for being troublesome in life, but she got mad at me. I didn’t want to repeat that. I don’t want to be a cleric. I would hate mixing medicine all day.”

“You don’t have to be a cleric,” Fennelspot insisted. He suddenly remembered just why he grew so startled in the first place and he held his breath. “You were talking to Locustpaw. Does that mean…”

“Autumnstar’s patrol found them,” Oilstripe muttered, staring at the space beside the two ginger cats. “They spoke to Gorgestar and were coming home. Their body is somewhere in AshClan territory.” Fennelspot held his emotions close as he prayed to see whatever Oilstripe could see. He stared at where he thought Locustpaw stood, trying to sense the apprentice beside him.

“I can help you tell the Clan about your abilities, Oilstripe,” Fennelspot suggested. “You can tell your father about Locustpaw.”

“I ruined it last time,” Oilstripe said, violently shaking her head. “I’m no conduit. I don’t share messages. Can’t you say you had a vision, Fennelspot?”

“I don’t receive many visions,” Fennelspot groaned, the fur on the back of his neck itching.

“They won’t argue with you,” Oilstripe said. “They’ll be worried when Locustpaw doesn’t come back tonight. Why make them hope for something that won’t happen?” Fennelspot shrunk into himself.

“I need to collect my juniper berries,” Fennelspot muttered. “If we can’t get Locustpaw’s body, we still have to host a vigil. I’ll figure out the right words to say. Come with me.” Fennelspot climbed back toward his hiding place.

“Fennelspot?” Oilstripe called softly. Fennelspot turned back. Oilstripe nodded to the empty spot beside her and said, “They said thank you.”

(Fennelspot: 75, male, cleric,  insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Oilstripe: 22, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

In order to honor the dead cat, Fennelspot and Downstar give them their historian name in StarClan; Locustseeker.

[Image ID: Locustseeker stands as a StarClan cat. Under them, it says LEVEL UP! LOCUSTPAW -> LOCUSTSEEKER.]

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

Downstar gives Clampaw her full name of Clammask, honoring her as a caretaker of RippleClan.

[Image ID: Clammask stands in the middle of the screen. Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! CLAMPAW -> CLAMMASK, LONESOME -> RIGHTEOUS, INTERESTED IN CLAN HISTORY -> LORE KEEPER, + NEW TRAIT: GOOD TEACHER.]

(Clammask: 12, female, caretaker, righteous, lore keeper, good teacher)

Carnationspeckle, Shadowpaw, and Parsley all have whitecough.

[Image ID: Carnationspeckle, Shadowpaw, and Parsley stand in a row. Under each, it says + CONDITION: WHITECOUGH. Under Shadowpaw, it also reads - CONDITION: SORE.]

(Carnationspeckle: 20, female, caretaker, compassionate, talented swimmer)

(Shadowpaw: 10, male, codekeeper apprentice, adventurous, confident with words)

(Parsley: 112, female, warrior, righteous, good speaker)

Parsley finds the way Rabbitjoy acts increasingly uncomfortable.

[Image ID: Applepelt and Parsley watch Rabbitjoy from the side as Rabbitjoy says “We’re fine! We’re all going to be fine!” Applepelt says, “I don’t think she’s fine…” Under Applepelt, it says - CONDITION: CAT BITE.]

(Parsley: 112, female, warrior, righteous, good speaker)

(Applepelt: 27, she/they, historian, rebellious, lore keeper)

(Rabbitjoy: 54, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver)