twilights-800-cats

[twilights-800-cats]

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my contribution for @giingersnapsblog's eat your young map!!!! which premieres in less than an hour GASP watch it here !!!

[twilights-800-cats]

What's gonna be left of the world if you're not in it?

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 21 || Chapter 22 || Chapter 23 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 22

At sunhigh, Mistyfoot rose from her nest and stretched her legs, letting the sunlight warm her rippling pelt as she crept from the warrior’s den. She had slept until sunhigh after returning from the Gathering the night before, and from the looks of things around camp, it seemed like Cinderpelt had taken it upon herself to arrange patrols in Mistyfoot’s stead since she’d had command of the camp the night before.

A moon ago, that would’ve made Mistyfoot’s mind whirl with anxiety, but now, Mistyfoot was glad for any help that let her get a decent amount of sleep. She settled herself down for a quick wash, listening to the low hum of camp activity that bounced off the stone hollow’s walls.

Over by the elder’s den, Mousefur was catching Longtail and Graystripe up on the Gathering over a rabbit. Silverstream and Sun were sharing tongues outside the nursery, with Sorreltail leaving the den to join them after a stretch. Cloudtail, Brightheart, and Swiftfoot were grooming one another in a tangle in the shadow of the Highledge, while Rainwhisker and Daisy were sharing a meal on one of the sunning boulders, watching Berrykit, Hazelkit, and Goosekit play in the dust.

Even Brackenfur was out of his cave, laying herbs on the rocks with Shadepool to dry them in the strong sunlight. Mistyfoot wondered if she was telling him about last night, too, since he had stayed behind again - but it seemed as if they were working in communal silence, with only their ears flicking now and then.

Mistyfoot glanced over to the camp entrance. Dustpelt was patrolling the edges of the barrier with Spiderfang, who held a bundle of sticks in her mouth. Ashfur, Larchpaw, and Nightfrost came in through the thorn tunnel, fresh prey in their jaws. Nightfrost gave his companions a flick of his tail - while they headed for the fresh-kill pile, Nightfrost made a beeline right for Mistyfoot, a pair of plump mice and a shrew dangling from his jaws by their tails.

When he laid them at her paws, Mistyfoot’s stomach instantly rumbled. She purred, “The prey is running well!”

“Even better than before, now that greenleaf is close,” Nightfrost purred back. He pushed a mouse towards her, his gaze glittering hopefully. “I thought we could share.”

“Gladly!” Mistyfoot had the mouse between her paws by the time Nightfrost settled down with the shrew. They ate in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of cicadas and birdsong in the forest with their tails curled around one another. When they finished their first portions, Nightfrost split the remaining mouse with his claw and began to devour his half.

“Larchpaw’s coming along really well with hunting,” he mentioned, crunching on a bit of bone. “Ashfur said he had Brightheart help him learn how to hear with only one ear, and it’s paying off!”

“That’s good,” Mistyfoot hummed. She swiped her tongue around her jaws. “I’ll have to schedule an assessment for him soon.” After what he did for ShadowClan, he was certainly ready for more advanced teachings. His warrior ceremony wouldn’t be far off.

“Ashfur might be a burr in the tail, but he’s a good teacher,” Nightfrost said. He had polished off his half of the mouse and let his chin rest on his paws. “I’m taking Daisy out later - I hope I can motivate her...”

Mistyfoot laid her tail along Nightfrost’s flank. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” she soothed. “Now that Daisy is officially part of the Clan, I think she‘ll be more open to figuring things out with you.”

“I hope so...” Nightfrost closed his eyes. “Hmmmm...” he sighed, “wake me up when sunhigh’s passed...”

She felt him settle against her, curled in a tight black ball. Mistyfoot smiled down at him, wrapping her tail around his flank. She gave his ear a lick, and as she lifted her chin, a dark shape flitted in the corner of Mistyfoot’s eye. Tinystar had emerged from his den in the Highledge, and from his stance at the edge of the rocks, Mistyfoot remarked, “I don’t think you’ll have time for that nap, Night.”

“Oh?” Nightfrost shifted. His eyes half-opened. “Why...?”

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey come beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!”

“Oh,” Nightfrost sighed. He blinked awake. “Wonder what this is about...?”

Me, too, Mistyfoot thought - though she had a hunch, considering that Daisy and Rainwhisker were quickly ushering her trio of kits off to the side while the rest of the Clan got to their paws.

Her heart raced. If the kittens were getting their names today, then that meant - I’m getting an apprentice! Mistyfoot felt excitement tingling beneath her pelt. Her tail trembled as she watched the three kits get a rushed grooming from their mother. But which one will it be?

Would it be Berrykit, who was a bit arrogant but strong? Goosekit, who seemed quiet but brash? Or Hazelkit, who was level-headed and bossy? Mistyfoot had no idea, and as she and Nightfrost sat together in the shadow of the Highledge, she found herself ready and willing to train any of them - and wishing she had washed more of her breakfast from her muzzle.

Once every cat was settled, Tinystar began to speak: “Cats of ThunderClan, we have endured much these past moons - from loss of life to life anew, from old forest to new, and from WindClan to ShadowClan, we have held fast and carried on.” His ice-blue gaze scanned the crowd. “As our first newleaf beside the lake moves closer to greenleaf, life goes ever onward, and one wonderful part of that is the naming of apprentices.”

He flicked his tail. From off to the side came Berrykit, Goosekit, and Hazelkit, their pelts groomed to a shine. Mistyfoot saw Daisy and Rainwhisker hustle to the edge of the crowd to sit together and watch the young cats sit down beneath the Highledge. Daisy’s eyes were round with worry, and she kept whispering something to Rainwhisker, who kept reassuring her in turn.

Tinystar climbed down from the Highledge, his tail high. The three kits were arranged just so, sitting together a pace apart, chins up high and spines tensed. It was almost amusing how proper they were trying to be when Mistyfoot guessed they were each bursting at the seams with excitement.

“You three were not born of ThunderClan,” Tinystar meowed as he approached them, “but a warrior cat is not defined by their place of birth.” He drew up to a halt between the three of them. “From this day on, you will be apprentices of ThunderClan!”

“Yes!” hissed Berrykit. An amused purr rippled through the crowd, but Daisy just about fainted.

Tinystar’s whiskers twitched, his eyes glinting. “Berrykit, until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Berrypaw.”

“Berrypaw!” the cream-colored cat repeated.

“Hush!” hissed Hazelkit. On Berrypaw’s other side, Goosekit chuckled.

Tinystar looked into the crowd. “Swiftfoot, you have your work cut out for you with your first apprentice,” he announced, his voice tinged with amusement.

He beckoned with his tail, and the black-and-white warrior slid through the crowd to stand beside Berrypaw. Mistyfoot saw Berrypaw start in surprise, staring up at the scar-covered warrior.

“I will teach him manners,” Swiftfoot promised gruffly, “as Whitestorm taught me.”

“I know you will,” Tinystar said warmly. “Pass on all you know.”

At Swiftfoot’s nod, Berrypaw lowered his head to touch Tinystar’s nose. The two stood and headed back into the crowd, and Mistyfoot couldn’t help but catch the mystified - and slightly worried - expression on Berrypaw’s face as he sat down beside his mentor.

A humbling choice! Mistyfoot couldn’t think of any other warrior who might cow Berrypaw’s more arrogant tendencies.

That left Goosekit and Hazelkit - Mistyfoot’s toes tingled. Which one would be her apprentice? Beside her, Nightfrost pressed close, the purr in his chest deep, just as eager to know as she was.

“Silverstream!” Tinystar called.

Like her namesake, Silverstream flowed through the crowd, her pelt shining. She drew up between Goosekit and Hazelkit with her head held up high and proud - Graystripe let out a hoot from his place in the crowd, clearly excited for his mate.

“You came to us from another Clan for the sake of love and have become a fierce, loyal warrior of ThunderClan,” Tinystar meowed, looking into Silverstream’s eyes with pride. “After all these moons, it is time for your first apprentice - take care of Goosepaw, Silverstream, and impart to him your unique perspective.”

“I shall,” Silverstream agreed.

Goosepaw’s jaw about dropped, but he shook his head quickly and touched noses with Silverstream. He and his new mentor padded back into the crowd, sitting beside Swiftfoot and Berrypaw.

Mistyfoot swallowed. Hazelkit was looking at her with wide, surprised eyes, and Mistyfoot’s heart trembled. Hazelkit. I get Hazelkit!

Tinystar met her eye. “Mistyfoot. It’s time.”

Mistyfoot stepped forward, her paws trembling with nervous delight. In a blink, she was back in the old forest under the intense greenleaf sun. Shrewpaw had waited so patiently for her then, like Hazelkit was now. Mistyfoot stilled her tail, resolving not to shake.

Tinystar’s whiskers twitched. “Hazelpaw,” he told the kit, “there is a great honor in being the deputy’s apprentice. Listen well, and you will learn all Mistyfoot has to teach.” He lifted his head and looked into Mistyfoot’s eyes, his expression fond. “She has much to share.”

Mistyfoot could barely speak - it felt like her heart was tangled in thorns. The pride and love in Tinystar’s eyes were everything to her. She hoped Shrewpaw was watching from StarClan as Hazelpaw reached out and touched her nose. Mistyfoot breathed in her scent - ThunderClan, through and through.

I won’t fail her, she insisted. Hazelpaw looked up at her with pale green eyes, her grayish tortoiseshell fur beginning to spike up again despite Daisy’s grooming. She’s going to make it.

Together, they padded back into the crowd, tails high as they turned and sat beside the other new mentors and their apprentices. Berrypaw and Goosepaw were staring at Hazelpaw with wide eyes, though neither seemed outwardly shocked that she’d been chosen to be Mistyfoot’s apprentice.

And then the Clan called their names: “Berrypaw! Hazelpaw! Goosepaw!”

No cat cheered louder than Daisy, who plowed through the crowd to give each of her kits sound lickings between their ears, her purr like thunder.

“My darlings!” she cried, wrapping her legs around Berrypaw and Goosepaw. “My little kittens!” Her tail caught Hazelpaw before the she-cat could flee.

“Ma, please!” complained Goosepaw.

“Ack!” Hazelpaw choked on fur.

Berrypaw was the only one not to complain, purring just as hard as his mother as she covered all three of them with licks.

Mistyfoot smiled softly at the sight. Purrs of amusement rippled through the crowd again at the sight of a mother not wanting to let her kittens go just yet. Daisy squeezed each of them tight once more and then finally let go, allowing the three new apprentices to stumble out of their mother’s hold, dazed and ruffled. The crowd began to disperse, leaving them to their celebration.

“So dramatic,” Dustpelt groaned.

“Oh please,” chuckled Cloudtail. “You were just like that with Spiderfang and Shrewpaw...”

Daisy looked up at Swiftfoot, Silverstream, and Mistyfoot with soft blue eyes. “Please, take care of them,” she pleaded.

“We will,” Silverstream promised.

Swiftfoot put Berrypaw to his paws with a flick of his tail. “They’ll be warriors to be proud of, Daisy.”

“Don’t worry,” Mistyfoot added, stepping towards the queen. “They’re ThunderClan,” she reminded her. “We always take care of one another.”

Daisy’s eyes shimmered with emotion, and Mistyfoot thought the queen might just wail right then and there. It was only when Nightfrost sidled up and mentioned, “Come on, let’s go hunting...” that Daisy shook her head and snapped out of it. With one last goodbye to her kits, she headed towards the camp entrance with Nightfrost, who gave Mistyfoot a wave of his tail in farewell.

“Good luck!” he called, his eyes sparkling happily. “Have fun!”

“We will!” Mistyfoot called back.

Silverstream made a noise, and Mistyfoot looked back at the other she-cat to find she was rolling her eyes. Swiftfoot’s whiskers were twitching, and both looked as if Mistyfoot had devoured a chunk of honeycomb. Embarrassment flooded Mistyfoot’s pelt.

“So, what do we do now?” Hazelpaw wondered, thankfully taking the heat off of her mentor. Mistyfoot sighed in relief.

“Are we going to train together?” Goosepaw asked, looking up at Silverstream.

“Not always,” she answered, schooling her expression into that of a respectable warrior. “In fact, you and I are heading to the lake!” She smiled down at Goosepaw. “I want to know whether or not I’m working with a drypaw.”

Goosepaw’s eyes went wide. “A what?”

“And you and I are going to the uplands,” Swiftfoot meowed to Berrypaw, his voice firm. “We’re going to put all that energy of yours to work.”

“What are we doing?” Hazelpaw looked up at Mistyfoot expectantly.

“Since Swiftfoot and Berrypaw are heading toward the Divide,” Mistyfoot responded, “we’ll head over to the ShadowClan border and take a look around. There’s a lot of territory to see!”

“Awesome!”

Goosepaw grumped, “How come you two aren’t getting your paws wet?”

“Who said we weren’t?” Swiftfoot returned. Beside him, Berrypaw looked mildly horrified.

Mistyfoot purred, her whiskers twitching. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Mousefur near the warrior’s den. To Hazelpaw, she mewed, “Wait for me by the entrance, and we’ll get going. I’ll be just a moment.”

Hazelpaw nodded, her spiky tail straight up as she bolted for the thorn tunnel. Mistyfoot, meanwhile, made her way over to Mousefur, who was washing one of her legs.

“Congratulations,” the older she-cat mumbled between licks. “It’s about time.”

“I thought you were getting an apprentice, too,” Mistyfoot remarked soberly. Their conversation about future apprentices seemed so long ago. “Did Tinystar not ask you?”

Mousefur looked up at her, her expression mild. “He did. I said no.”

Mistyfoot pricked her ears in shock. She had to tell herself not to feel hurt just yet. Keeping her voice low, she hissed, “Why?”

Mousefur shrugged, putting her leg down. “Swiftfoot and Silverstream deserve their shot,” she answered matter-of-factly. “And Cinderpelt won’t shut up about having more kits, and Sorreltail’s will be apprentices sooner or later.” She shrugged. “There’s always next time.”

Is there? Mistyfoot couldn’t ignore the gray hairs sprouting on her friend’s muzzle, or how her back still pained her, even if Mousefur would never admit it. The elder’s den was sooner rather than later for the senior warrior. Was Mousefur saying this just to spare Mistyfoot’s feelings? No, that’s not like her at all.

“Okay,” Mistyfoot murmured.

“Don’t look so down,” Mousefur chuckled. “It’s not like you need me to hold your paw anymore.” She nodded to Hazelpaw and remarked, “You’re not the same cat you used to be - you’re deputy now, for StarClan’s sake! That one is going to be easy. I can just see it.” Mousefur blinked fondly at Mistyfoot. “And if you ever need a cat to knock some sense into her, I’ll be there.”

Mistyfoot purred, touching her nose to Mousefur’s ear. “Next time, then,” she promised.

“For sure,” Mousefur agreed. “Now go on, don’t disappoint the little one. She’s got a long way to go.”

She does, Mistyfoot thought, turning to look at Hazelpaw. She tried to stamp down the bittersweet feeling in her chest. I’m going to make her into a warrior of ThunderClan!

—

“Take a deep breath, Hazelpaw - what do you smell?”

Mistyfoot watched her apprentice open her jaws and breathe in deep. Their tour of the territory had begun at the training glade and then swooped down towards the lake. As they had walked along the lakeshore, Mistyfoot introduced Hazelpaw to RiverClan and had her pause to identify the smells of various prey dens and plants. It was slow going, but Hazelpaw seemed keen to listen and learn, and Mistyfoot was even keener on ensuring her new apprentice was prepared for what might await her in her territory.

It was clear that Hazelpaw was getting tired, though. Her paws had been dragging since the old Twoleg nest, and here at the ShadowClan border, Mistyfoot was already deciding their way home.

Hazelpaw’s ears pricked, and she mewed, “Oh, I know this - this is ShadowClan, isn’t it?” She looked at Mistyfoot expectantly. “It was on that tom that visited you the other day, and Larchpaw smelled like it, too.”

Mistyfoot nodded. “Yep, that’s ShadowClan.” She gestured with her tail to the pine forest across the stream. “ShadowClan gets their scent from their marshy territory - the lack of sunlight causes things to decay quicker, and mushrooms like to grow over everything. The pines are their major distinction, though, so keep that in mind - if pine-scent is strong where there are no pines, there’s probably a ShadowClan cat around.”

Hazelpaw nodded. “Is it true they can sneak up on anyone?” she wondered, her eyes wide.

Mistyfoot twitched her whiskers. “They’re sneaky, yes - but their territory doesn’t have as much undergrowth to hide in as ours does, so they need to be more clever when hunting, even though we hunt the same sort of prey.”

“Do they eat frogs? Dustpelt said they eat frogs.”

“Yes,” Mistyfoot chuckled, “they do.”

“Have you tried it? Is it good?” Hazelpaw asked.

Mistyfoot shrugged. “Stoneheart fed me some once. Tasted a bit like mouse to me, just a little slimier.”

Hazelpaw looked over the border. “Could I try it someday?”

“If a frog hops over here and you can catch it, go right ahead,” Mistyfoot purred. She flicked Hazelpaw’s ear with her tail, proud that her apprentice seemed open-minded. “Come on - ShadowClan cats are grumpy about their borders. We shouldn’t linger.”

Hazelpaw, despite her tiredness, did her best to keep in step with Mistyfoot as they padded along the length of the stream. On their way, Mistyfoot made sure to point out the mouse trails, as these were the places where fox traps were most likely to be set. She made sure to leave her own markers to warn her Clanmates of the potential danger.

“I’ll teach you how to disarm fox traps when you’re older,” Mistyfoot told Hazelpaw. “For now, look out for these markers and strong Twoleg scent where it shouldn’t be.”

Hazelpaw nodded seriously. “I will,” she said.

Soon enough, they left the stream behind and headed into the trees. Mistyfoot could scent the most recent border patrol’s markers hanging sharp in the air, mingled with the strong, heady smell of ShadowClan - Mistyfoot was pleased that their neighbor’s border markers were strong and full of pride again.

Hazelpaw twitched her nose. “ShadowClan’s border doesn’t follow the stream?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be easier?”

Mistyfoot shook her head, turning to look over her shoulder at her apprentice. “You would think so, but if it did, it would cut deep into their territory and wouldn’t leave much space for them to hunt,” she explained. “We decided to have the border keep going into the trees so things would be more even for both of us.”

“Huh.” Hazelpaw blinked owlishly at the border. “I would’ve thought that ThunderClan wanted more territory.”

“We’ve got plenty of space for ourselves already,” Mistyfoot pointed out. “What you’ve seen so far isn’t even half our land.”

Hazelpaw nodded along and kept quiet but for the occasional question about plants or prey as they headed up along the border towards the greenleaf Twolegplace. Along the way, Mistyfoot showed her how to lay a border marker by scent and claw and where the best places to do either were. By the time they reached the greenleaf Twolegplace, the sun was beginning to set, and Hazelpaw was panting.

“We’re going to head back,” Mistyfoot promised. “There’s more to see, but I think you get the idea.”

Hazelpaw nodded again. “It’s so much!” she breathed. “How do you manage it all?”

Mistyfoot shrugged. “You get used to it,” she meowed. “If you focus on your training, you’ll get stronger every day until the distance no longer matters. We’ve also figured out efficient paths through the forest, so we can get from one place to another quickly.” She flicked her tail at the border and added, “We didn’t take them today because you need to build up your strength and familiarize yourself with our borders.”

“I bet Berrypaw and Goosepaw are exhausted by now,” Hazelpaw chuckled. Her green eyes sparkled. “Goosepaw would be complaining the entire way home, and Berrypaw would just make those whiny noises he makes - it’s so annoying!”

Mistyfoot purred with amusement. “Swiftfoot and Silverstream won’t tolerate complainers,” she meowed, “so they’d better take things seriously!”

“I still can’t believe that you’re my mentor,” Hazelpaw sighed happily. She scratched behind her ear. “I thought for sure you might get Berrypaw!”

“I think Tinystar made the right choices,” Mistyfoot agreed. She flicked her tail against Hazelpaw’s shoulder and meowed, “Come on, let’s get back to camp. I’m sure you’re starving.”

“I am,” Hazelpaw affirmed. She got to her paws, her spiky tail high as the breeze turned toward the lake. “I can’t wait to tell Berry and Goose all about-”

She stopped mid-sentence, her mouth open. When the apprentice’s eyes widened, Mistyfoot pricked her ears and opened her jaws, too, drawing in the breeze over her tongue. Her spine stiffened as her nose tingled.

The trespasser’s scent was back.

“Who is that?” Hazelpaw wondered, her voice low and quiet. The fur along her spine had lifted. “I don’t recognize it!”

Mistyfoot felt a sneeze coming. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, her voice just as low. The oak wasn’t too far away, which meant that the trespasser was using the tunnel for something again after being away for so long.

Her heart thumped in her chest. She had hoped that the scent had belonged to the kittypets and that they had been fooling around by the border to find ways to provoke ThunderClan - but now it was clear that their scents couldn’t be more different. This was someone else, and despite lingering around for almost a whole season, they hadn’t moved on.

“It might just be a loner who passed through,” Mistyfoot assured Hazelpaw, hoping she was disguising her own unease. “They don’t understand Clan ways.”

She whisked her tail. “We should head back to camp.”

“Are you going to report this to Tinystar?” Hazelpaw wondered, her eyes wide. “Is there going to be a fight?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Mistyfoot warned. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she hoped her apprentice didn’t notice. “Not all intruders are worth fighting, so keep it quiet for now, okay?”

Hazelpaw nodded. Her face was extremely serious, the way only a young cat could be.

Quickly, Mistyfoot ushered Hazelpaw away from the border and onto one of their hunting trails. They would get back to camp before moonrise, which would give Mistyfoot enough time to rest up for tomorrow.

She would need to gather all her strength to see the kittypets and get her answers, and she didn’t care whether they liked it or not.

[twilights-800-cats]

Happy Pride Month from the TB AU~

[twilights-800-cats]

Former Warriors comic artist, James L. Barry, posts his own edit of Brokenstar to #NoKings, both showing support to the immigrants of America and protesting Donald Trump's presidency.

Any discourse or bad-faith comments on this post will be removed and blocked.

[twilights-800-cats]

I haven’t shared these yet! These are 6 illustrations from my university project that was based on warriors! I chose to draw 6 scenes from Into the Wild from the 1st arc!

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 20 || Chapter 21 || Chapter 22 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 21

Days later, Mistyfoot walked along the lakeshore, weaving between the tall reeds under the cover of night. Her Clanmates walked behind her, their pawsteps soft and quiet in the tall, rustling grass. Up above, the moon hung full and heavy, shining with a bright white light that dwarfed the stars that peeked out between the wisps of cloud that lazily drifted across the sky.

I hope no clouds cover the moon tonight, she thought, glancing up. Her whiskers twitched worriedly. It was always a sad night when the Gathering was interrupted, though she supposed she could forgive it if nature decided they were to head home early.

She glanced back at the cats chosen for the Gathering. Everyone seemed to be keeping up, though it looked like Larchpaw had gotten his paw stuck in a bit of muck. Whitewing had stopped to help him out. She turned her head, counting each cat that passed - Mousefur, Nightfrost, Ferncloud, Snowstep, Rainwhisker, and Ashfur all slipped by, with Larchpaw and Whitewing scurrying past to catch up. They all waited by the fallen cedar with Tinystar and Shadepool, who had again come for both herself and Brackenfur.

Mistyfoot trotted over to join them, her tail high, breathing in the comforting scents of her Clanmates. In the days since the battle with the kittypets, things were peaceful and quiet in both Mistyfoot’s waking world and her dreams. It seemed as if Bluestar had finally given up on her, and she couldn’t be happier about getting a good night’s sleep again - though she couldn’t stop thoughts of the tunnels from burrowing into her mind.

She wanted to know more, but the only way she could have answers to her nagging questions was to speak with Susan and Jacques themselves - Mistyfoot imagined that they wouldn’t be open to that idea. Not only that, but they had their injuries to heal from. Mistyfoot had to swallow that she wouldn’t get answers about the tunnels or who trained them anytime soon.

Her pelt brushed against Tinystar’s as she strode up to his shoulder. She had been about to ask what the holdup was, why they weren’t crossing the tree-bridge - but the reason became very clear immediately: ThunderClan had arrived at the same time as WindClan.

The thin, lean warriors glared at the ThunderClan cats as they passed, pushing their way through the tall grass to the tree-bridge without bothering to discuss who might go first. Mistyfoot’s eyes flickered over their pelts - with all the activity on the ShadowClan border, she had admittedly put WindClan’s unjustified hatred for her Clan aside for the past season. Their moorland neighbors had been blessedly quiet, thankfully, and it seemed from their sleek, shiny fur that they were doing well.

If they just want to pretend we don’t exist, that’s fine by me, Mistyfoot decided. She saw Crowflight’s dark shape leap onto the tree-bridge, one of the last of his Clan to cross. Her heart clenched. Even if that hurts.

When the last WindClan cat had crossed, Tinystar stood and lifted his tail. A few of the ThunderClan cats grumbled about having to wait for “stinking rabbit-chasers” and “liars” but a glare from Tinystar kept them quiet. Even Mistyfoot had to glower over her shoulder at her Clanmates - she understood the tension, but this was a Gathering. The island wasn’t a place for fighting.

“You coming?” Nightfrost wondered, looking down at her from atop the cedar.

Mistyfoot nodded and hopped up to join him. They walked across the cedar tree together, tails up. Water rippled gently below, and Mistyfoot had to stop herself from balking - the cedar tree held fast, as if Ashfoot herself were keeping it in place with her spirit. As Mistyfoot put her paws to land again, she wondered if Crowflight dreaded each trip across the tree-bridge, knowing his mother rested beneath it.

She spotted him slipping up to the roots of the Great Oak like a shadow, settling down in his spot at the roots with Tawnypelt. As the two bent their muzzles to speak, Mistyfoot’s heart panged again.

The last time they had been on friendly terms had been the battle for WindClan’s leadership, a fight that nearly tore Crowflight’s Clan apart. She remembered using her body to keep him from lunging at the cedar tree and burrowing through it for his mother. She had licked his bloodied paws, feeling his body tremble with unimaginable sorrow as the snow cleared around them.

She wondered if she would ever look forward to sitting beside her old friend ever again. Would it ever be the way it used to be?

She took a shaky breath. Maybe, but it wouldn’t be solved tonight. Mistyfoot forced herself to look around, gauging the mood of the Gathering. RiverClan, ShadowClan, and ThunderClan seemed to be getting on fine, which made WindClan’s standoffishness seem very apparent - the moorland warriors didn’t seem to want to talk to anyone but themselves. So long as they didn’t cause trouble, Mistyfoot could care less who they spoke to.

She spotted Larchpaw and Rushpaw hanging out together, the only two apprentices in all four Clans at the moment. They were play-fighting, and it looked like they were reenacting their distraction for a few onlooking warriors from the other Clans. Off to the side, Ferncloud and Finchsong were talking quietly, their pelts brushing. Cedarheart and Snowstep joined them.

Mistyfoot felt a pang. The two queens had grown close over the Great Journey, but their mates had always been standoffish toward one another. They have their lost kits in common, now.

It was odd to see the ShadowClan cats mingling more openly with ThunderClan - normally, they were so reserved and kept themselves mysterious, even when they were socializing at a Gathering. Mistyfoot felt her heart swell. It might not last, but it was heartwarming to see.

She saw Stoneheart and Rowanclaw sitting with Nightfrost and Rainwhisker in the crowd. She was about to join them when the chatter began to die down. A quick glance at the Great Oak told her that the leaders were waiting to begin.

She hurried through the throng of cats, her tail puffed. By the time she had managed to get to her place among the other deputies, Leopardstar had already stood.

Tawnypelt’s whiskers twitched as Mistyfoot scrambled up the root. “Almost didn’t make it,” she chuckled quietly.

Mistyfoot could only huff and puff, her pelt hot with embarrassment. Beside her, Blackfoot rolled his eyes - but at least he didn’t scoff - and beyond him, Crowflight seemed to be doing everything in his power not to look at her, which failed, as Mistyfoot spotted him casting her a quick glance.

“The Gathering begins!” Leopardstar yowled. The gossip and chatter died down in the fringes under Leopardstar’s sharp gaze, and when she had silence, she continued: “The prey has run well in RiverClan this past moon. We suffered a small breakout of greencough, but only a few cats were infected, and all were cured through Mothwing and Willowpaw’s tireless efforts.”

“Mothwing!” cheered the gathered cats, with the loudest voices coming from RiverClan. “Willowpaw!”

Mistyfoot glanced over at the medicine cats. Mothwing had her chin held high, but young Willowpaw looked bashful, embarrassed to have her name yowled by so many cats. Shadepool offered her some encouragement, and Willowpaw lifted her blotchy head to match Mothwing.

I can’t imagine being responsible for a greencough outbreak at that age, Mistyfoot thought, admiring the young cat. Medicine cats really are something else!

When the cheering died down, Mothwing’s voice chimed in to say, “I’d like to thank Shadepool for her advice - without her suggestions at our Moonpool meetings, the outbreak might’ve been a lot worse for us.”

“Shadepool!” some few cats cheered, mostly from RiverClan and ThunderClan. “Shadepool!”

Mistyfoot smiled at her Clanmate, who hung her head humbly. Shadepool is something else, too, she thought, proud of her Clan for having such a talented medicine cat. All the Clans owe her greatly.

Leopardstar, up above, nodded in agreement. “That is all from RiverClan.” Her bough rustled as she shifted back.

Russetstar came next. Sitting higher than all the other leaders made her voice carry far: “ShadowClan also has ThunderClan to thank this moon - without them, we wouldn’t have been able to drive out some trespassers that had taken ShadowClan lives, including our young Willowpaw.” The ginger she-cat’s eyes hardened. “Their spirits have been avenged.”

The crowd went quiet, muzzles lowering in reflection. Mistyfoot lowered her muzzle, too, thinking of old Orre and poor Willowpaw, not to mention each new scar on the bodies of the ShadowClan warriors here tonight. Jacques and Susan had been a menace - it was no wonder Russetstar hadn’t mentioned them specifically.

“Thank you again, Tinystar.” Russetstar’s mew was gentle as she looked down at ThunderClan’s leader.

“It’s no problem,” Tinystar rasped back. He blinked up at her. “Anytime.”

Mudstar’s branch rustled. He spat, his hackles bristling. “So, both Leopardstar and Russetstar failed as leaders this moon!” he jeered. His tail whipped behind him. “Having to crawl to ThunderClan for help! The both of you are pathetic.”

“Watch your tongue!” snapped Leopardstar. The fur along her hackles rose. “You insult not just my daughter but my medicine cat!”

“Both of whom needed help from a ThunderClan upstart to deal with greencough, of all things,” drawled Mudstar derisively. His whiskers twitched. “I’d find it strange if you didn’t question Mothwing’s competency.”

Mistyfoot saw the glint of unsheathed claws from the dappled old warrior. Worry filled her up, along with frustration - was Mudstar really going to try and start something again? Didn’t he get tired of acting like this?

Russetstar was far calmer than Leopardstar. Her tail winding, she remarked, “Didn’t both of our Clans chase you away from battle recently, Mudstar?” She looked down at him, her dark green eyes cold. “Are we really the cats you want to be insulting tonight?”

Mudstar hissed low in his throat - but he didn’t say anything else. Sighing, Tinystar moved forward.

“ThunderClan has had a productive moon,” he meowed, his tone mild, as if Mudstar’s outburst hadn’t happened, “and, thankfully, little happened. We did help ShadowClan with their problem, but all’s been quiet otherwise, and prey runs well.” He raised his chin and added, “Daisy, the Horseplace cat, and her kittens have decided to call ThunderClan home. The kits will be given their apprentice names very soon, so look forward to new faces next moon!”

There were a few mewls and cheers for that, mostly from ThunderClan. Tense, Mistyfoot wondered if Mudstar had anything to more say as he awkwardly slid his way down his branch, his scarred leg hanging awkwardly. He lifted his chin and cleared his throat.

“WindClan warriors chased a pair of dogs off our land,” Mudstar announced, his words raking against his throat. “Crowflight and Smokewillow both risked their pelts to drive them back to their Twolegs.”

“Crowflight! Smokewillow!”

The WindClan cats were hollering their lungs out, their thin chests puffed with pride, but it was really only them who cheered for the named warriors - well, them and Nightfrost, who yowled Crowflight’s name happily. The silence of the other Clans was expected, sure, but it was incredibly noticeable.

Mistyfoot fought a frustrated sigh. If Mudstar weren’t so insistent on being irritable and unpleasant, the other Clans could enjoy WindClan’s achievements - until then, though, they would be stuck with a chorus of only themselves, and Mistyfoot couldn’t imagine a world where that made WindClan more agreeable.

She glanced over at Shadepool, surprised that she wasn’t cheering for Crowflight, too. The two had been very close throughout their adventures together - had something happened between them? Surely not, Mistyfoot thought. Shadepool had a very fond, gentle expression on her face as she looked at Crowflight. She was clearly proud of him, too. Maybe she didn’t want to show it in front of her peers.

Mistyfoot hazarded a look over at Crowflight. She wanted to be proud of him, too - but it was so hard, especially after he had attacked her Clan and hurt her Clanmates. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d tossed Nightfrost to the ground after threatening to drive out ThunderClan. Maybe they were never meant to be friends again?

With that, though, the announcements seemed to be over. The leaders were making their way down the Great Oak, and Blackfoot was the first of the deputies to leap down from their place in the roots. Mistyfoot followed shortly after, her pelt prickling with relief - the moon was still shining bright, which meant there was plenty of time for some conversation. She knew exactly who she wanted to talk to.

She saw Stoneheart’s ears poking up through the crowd, and began to make her way towards him - not even two steps in, though, she felt her nose begin to tickle uncomfortably. RiverClan’s fishy scent washed over her, and Falcontail was there, his tail up in greeting as he strode up to her shoulder.

“I won’t take up your time,” he insisted. The expression on his dappled face was mild. “I just wanted to say that I heard about how you fought for ShadowClan. Very impressive!”

Mistyfoot blinked at him, still registering that he had even come near. She hadn’t even heard his pawsteps. “Well, I wasn’t going to leave Stoneheart to get hurt,” she managed quickly.

“Those trespassers sounded like real pieces of fox-dung,” Falcontail added. His whiskers twitched. “They deserved every scratch, I’m sure.”

“They did,” Mistyfoot agreed.

Falcontail’s tail flicked. “I’d like to hear about it from you, sometime,” he meowed mildly. “Get your perspective.” He blinked his pale eyes. “It’s hard to imagine any cat menacing ShadowClan of all Clans - they had to be great fighters.” His tail flicked idly. “I wonder who taught them?”

Something about him made Mistyfoot’s pelt prickle. “I don’t know,” she mewed, “but it was someone with a grudge against the Clans, to be sure.”

“I’ll leave you be,” Falcontail decided quickly, dipping his head. “Thank you for indulging me for just a moment!”

Mistyfoot flicked her tail, still trying to puzzle out what the gray warrior really wanted from her. “No problem!”

The dappled warrior trotted away, and his tail just barely brushed against Mistyfoot’s nose. Her nostrils tingled, stinging her eyes. The urge to sneeze was tight and overwhelming in her throat.

“Hey, there you are!”

Thank StarClan! The sneeze died in her nose. Mistyfoot sniffled, blinking away wetness to find that Nightfrost had approached her. As her vision cleared, she saw him staring at Falcontail, who was sitting with Ashfur and Smokeflower for a chat.

“What’d he want?” Nightfrost asked.

“To congratulate me, I guess,” Mistyfoot responded, still feeling an itch in her nose. She rubbed her muzzle with a paw. “Ugh.” What are RiverClan cats rolling in nowadays?

Nightfrost, for once, looked uncertain and displeased. Mistyfoot wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him look like that, and it made her tail tremble with concern.

“What’s going on?” Stoneheart approached, head tilted curiously. Rowanclaw followed, like his mate’s shadow. Stoneheart glanced at Nightfrost. “You look like you’ve eaten a stinkbug.”

“It’s Falcontail,” Nightfrost admitted. He looked up at Stoneheart. “He was talking to Mistyfoot.”

Mistyfoot saw her brother’s expression change, too. Suspicion crossed his pale gaze. “He was, was he?” he rumbled.

Rowanclaw’s ears pricked. “Is that a bad thing?” he wondered, tipping his head in confusion.

Mistyfoot met his eye. She was wondering the same thing, honestly. Stoneheart was a naturally cautious cat, but Nightfrost’s demeanor suddenly turning cold was very unsettling.

“Falcontail was the cat who rallied all those other warriors to support Mudstar, remember?” Stoneheart meowed back, keeping his voice low.

“Not only that, but he was deputy of RiverClan while you and Tawnypelt were missing,” Nightfrost added, nodding to Rowanclaw. His whiskers twitched. “Feathertail said he was the reason why Leopardstar was being so stubborn about moving!”

“I thought that was because of Mudfur?” Rowanclaw wondered, still looking confused.

“Well, partly,” Nightfrost corrected, “but Feathertail said he was always trying to stop her from talking to Leopardstar, too...”

Mistyfoot blinked in recollection. She remembered how frustrated Feathertail had been at her leader’s stubbornness many moons ago. Rowanclaw, however, wasn’t totally convinced - the dark ginger tom flicked his tail and pointed out, “Well, he’s not deputy anymore, and didn’t he apologize for the WindClan thing? He’s allowed to talk to Mistyfoot if she wants.”

“It’s just weird,” Nightfrost insisted. His shoulders were stiff. “He gives me the creeps.”

Mistyfoot’s whiskers twitched, feeling her pelt crawl. Her nose tingled. Nightfrost was a cat who could see the good in anyone. If he was worried... She looked for Falcontail again, wondering where he was and finding that he had left her sight. Instead, she saw another cat - Crowflight.

The lean black warrior was staring at her with his dark blue eyes, his expression lit by the moon - he looked troubled, uncertain. Something about the way he stood there, so awkward and alone, was like he had asked a question and was waiting desperately for the answer.

Mistyfoot opened her mouth to say something, but a harsh call made Crowflight flinch like a startled hare. Mudstar was yowling for his cats to head for the tree-bridge. A few WindClan warriors approached Crowflight, and he had to break away. Soon enough, he was gone.

Mistyfoot swallowed her words. She sneezed, Falcontail’s scent still stubbornly stuck in her nose.

[twilights-800-cats]

Happy Pride Month from the TB AU~

[twilights-800-cats]

Sunset has wrapped on Patreon!

Honestly, it's kinda nuts to think that this week will mark the end of arc two of an AU that I started over ten years ago as a joke? Even if I don't make it all the way through the third arc I'll have written, what, fourteen books? Just for this??

I know my AU isn't perfect, but I'm still really proud of it! It's crazy that so many people are still reading it and look forward to new entries. I can only hope my original work can do the same :P

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 || Chapter 21 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 20

“I see that after all this time, my lessons have failed to reach you. How disappointing.”

Mistyfoot looked up. She had been dreaming of the forest in the sunshine, stalking a mouse - but now, the sky was overcast, and the trees around her stretched up to the clouds, knotting their branches together to blot out the sun. Their leaves fell and rotted into dust before they touched the ground.

She stared at her mother, who was sitting on a large, gnarled root that had ripped itself up from the earth. Bluestar glowered at her with sharp blue eyes, not bothering to hide her disgust.

Mistyfoot stood up in shock, lashing her tail. It had been some time since she had seen her mother and part of her had hoped that she’d never see her again - but, as Bluestar herself had said, it wouldn’t be that easy.

“You interfered,” Bluestar went on, her tone scathing, “when you should have done nothing.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out what this was about. “Stoneheart isn’t a killer,” Mistyfoot insisted, “no matter how hard you try to make him one.”

Bluestar’s tail twitched. “Such a show of force would have ended ShadowClan’s troubles for good - now, the kittypets may return.” She curled her lip. “What good does that do them?”

“If Jacques was killed, their Twoleg might cause them more trouble,” Mistyfoot snapped back. “Worse trouble than the kittypets could ever cause.” She lashed her tail and hissed, “Unless you’re teaching Stoneheart how to kill Twolegs as well?”

“Twolegs mean nothing,” Bluestar dismissed with a flick of her whiskers.

Mistyfoot narrowed her eyes. There was the stone wall again, impossible to move, impossible to reason with. “I don’t know what you really want with either of us,” she meowed instead, “but I won’t let you make me or Stoneheart into murderers. No matter how hard you try, you can’t change who we are.”

“My only goal is to ensure that you can keep your Clans safe,” Bluestar insisted, her gaze glittering. “To make the right choices and be sure of them.”

Mistyfoot had no doubt that Bluestar had thought her choices were right and sure - every dead cat at her paws had to die. The Clans had to fall in line. Her kits had to become just like her. Mistyfoot blinked at her mother, wishing she had seen it sooner - why had she let this go on for so long?

“He’s done,” Mistyfoot told her resolutely. “I’m done. Leave us alone.”

“That’s not a choice you get to make,” Bluestar said. She spoke like Mistyfoot was a disobedient kit in the nursery. “You know nothing, Mistyfoot. Nothing at all.”

“I might not know everything, but I do know this was a mistake,” Mistyfoot admitted. Sighing, she said, “I just wish I had seen it sooner.”

Bluestar’s muzzle wrinkled. Mistyfoot saw a strong emotion pass across her mother’s face, a very rare thing indeed - her eyes sparked with fury, and a blazing anger rippled along her spine. The fire in her was cold, cold as ice, cold as the depths of the lake, and Mistyfoot could feel it icing over her whiskers.

Suddenly, Mistyfoot was thrust back as if Bluestar had leaped and slammed into her body. She flew through the air, crashing into the trees behind her, feeling their splinters cut into her body, tearing her fur and flesh like claws. Mistyfoot lashed at the air, desperate for any sort of purchase as Bluestar disappeared and the forest shattered to pieces around her.

Then she was falling down, down, cold air pounding her back and whistling in her ears. Rain poured from the sky, which was dark, full of churning black clouds that flashed with lightning in their bellies. Thunder rippled through the air like the sound of a boulder cracking in two.

She hit the ground with a wet splat.

She wasn’t dead. Mistyfoot fought for breath, her heart hammering in her head. The smell of blood was everywhere, stronger than the rain. When she rolled to one side, she saw a pool of it that nearly touched her nose. Looking up, she gagged at the source - Sharptooth’s body.

It lay beside her, the shape broken to fit around the boulders that the horrifying beast had landed on. Bones pierced through the skin, blood oozed from every crevice, and its head, so massive that it could swallow a cat whole, lay crushed into a disgusting, mortifying pulp, its single eye staring at Mistyfoot, empty and lifeless.

Mistyfoot’s wavering wail turned into gagging as bile rose in her throat, and she writhed, her body protesting each movement as she turned away from the horror as quickly as she could. On her other side, though, was something far worse:

Stormfur.

His body was no less broken than Sharptooth’s - it was worse, because he was so much smaller. She could only recognize him now because she had had this nightmare so, so many times. Of course it was him.

It was always him.

She could hear his voice, so faint over the pouring rain, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

The bile in her throat burned. Demanded to be released. Mistyfoot closed her eyes and covered her face with her paws, wishing for it to be over. She wanted to be anywhere else. She tried thinking of the sun-drown place and that peaceful moment she had spent with Stormfur so long ago. She could almost smell the salt on the water and feel the press of his fur. She could almost hear the words he was speaking...

But the rain pounded on, and on, and on.

———————————————————

Mistyfoot finally opened her eyes, her heart racing. She tasted bile in her throat, and the smell of blood was stuck in her nose. She shivered, trying to tell herself that none of it was real - but she could still hear the rain, droplets of water landing on the stone that surrounded her, and the faint whisperings of Stormfur’s voice.

She blinked. Reality closed in. This wasn’t the mountains in the pouring rain - it was the medicine cat’s cave, with the steady trickle of water into a shallow pool in the back. The whispering was Brackenfur and Tinystar at the back of the den, their shapes blurry in her tired eyes. The sharp smell of herbs touched her nose.

Flashes of the night before came back - she had come here after her fight with Susan and Stoneheart, bleeding and too exhausted to speak, let alone keep her eyes open. Now, she pricked her ears. Mistyfoot raised her head, feeling stiff and sore. She yawned.

“Ah - you’re awake!” breathed Tinystar.

Both he and Brackenfur abandoned their conversation to come to see her. Mistyfoot’s flank twitched reflexively as Brackenfur sniffed her fur, checking on his poultices and cobwebs.

“You had a rough night,” Brackenfur remarked quietly when he was done. “A lot of thrashing.” His gaze flickered up to meet her eyes. “Bad dreams?”

Mistyfoot nodded. If she closed her eyes, she knew she would see Stormfur and Sharptooth. “Am I okay?” she wondered softly.

“You will be,” Brackenfur reported confidently. He raised his muzzle. “You fought hard, but your wounds seem mostly superficial. You’ll have a few new scars, but I’m not worried about infection.” His whiskers twitched. “That doesn’t mean you go and take matters into your own paws again, mind you.”

Mistyfoot glanced at Tinystar. “Was Russetstar upset that I stopped Stoneheart?” The ShadowClan leader had seemed more than okay with her warrior confronting the kittypets as he had. Perhaps that had been part of her plan all along? Either way, Mistyfoot hadn’t heard that particular discussion because she had been busy with Stoneheart.

“Only a little,” Tinystar admitted wryly. His whiskers twitched. “As much as everyone there wanted to see the kittypets pay for what they did, I don’t think they wanted that - not as much as they thought they did, at least.”He grimaced. “There’s a reason why we don’t settle things that way.”

In the back of her mind, Mistyfoot recalled the last story that her father Oakheart had told her - in his youth, he had challenged Mudfur, a senior warrior of RiverClan then, to a one-on-one battle for Sunningrocks. The fight had greatly affected them both, with Mudfur deciding he no longer wished to be a warrior and taking up the mantle of medicine cat and Oakheart finally asking Bluestar to be his mate.

It showed them what really mattered, she recalled. She supposed it had done the same for her, too - and she knew she would do it again if she had to.

“I ended up telling Russetstar that we were repaying her for how she helped us against WindClan,” Tinystar meowed, breaking through Mistyfoot’s thoughts. His tail-tip twitched. “It seems we’re even again.”

Mistyfoot hummed in thought. “I’m sure that made her feel better about asking us for help.”

“Yes, well,” Tinystar eyed her, his pale eyes flashing, “she wouldn’t have asked at all, I think, unless someone had pushed her.” His eyes softened on her. “Thank you, Mistyfoot. You had to make choices that should not have been put on your shoulders - but I think you made the right ones.”

Mistyfoot’s pelt flushed. It meant everything to hear that after Bluestar had said otherwise. “Thank you, Tinystar,” she murmured.

Tinystar dipped his head to her and then to Brackenfur, getting to his paws. “I’ve handled patrols for the day,” he meowed. “Get some rest.”

He trotted out of the den, his tail high. Mistyfoot watched him disappear into the sunlight, sighing. The horrors of her dream were fading, and she could feel hunger in her belly now. She wondered what Nightfrost was doing.

“Can I go and get something to eat?” she asked.

Brackenfur, who had ambled back to the pool, looked back at her. He answered, “You can get up. Just don’t go running across the forest.”

Mistyfoot thanked him with a purr and rose to her paws. Her limbs felt stiff, especially the leg that Stoneheart had bitten - she looked down, finding that the teeth marks were wrapped up in a cozy bunch of cobwebs. When she put some weight on it, though, it barely hurt.

She took it easy as she left the den and was glad she did - if she hadn’t, she would’ve rammed right into Spiderfang as the black she-cat skidded into the lichen screen.

“Whoa!” Spiderfang huffed, her neck fur fluffed, “You’re up!”

“I am,” Mistyfoot mewed. She noted the rushed look that the young warrior had. “What is it?”

“Someone to see you, actually,” Spiderfang answered.

She flicked her tail to the camp entrance, and, curious and confused, Mistyfoot leaned out of the lichen to look. Her ears pricked in surprise - there, sitting beside the thorn tunnel, chatting with Nightfrost, was Stoneheart.

“He says he just wants to talk,” Spiderfang mewed as Mistyfoot padded past her. Her eyes narrowed, and she wondered, “You think it’s safe?”

Mistyfoot scoffed, flicking Spiderfang’s nose with her tail. “Of course it’s safe,” she mewed back. “He’s my brother!”

She made her way across the clearing before Spiderfang could protest, lifting her tail in greeting when Stoneheart looked her way. She passed by her Clanmates, most of whom were murmuring about the presence of a ShadowClan warrior in camp:

“... shouldn’t have let him right into our camp!” fretted Whitewing. Her tail was twitching nervously. “What if he tells ShadowClan all about it?”

“You know he’s been here before, right?” Brightheart reminded her gently. “And besides, he’s Mistyfoot’s brother. He was once a ThunderClan cat.”

“Once,” grunted Dustpelt. The dark tabby sniffed as he joined the conversation. “He’d best not be wanting to come back...”

“Don’t you have some mice to catch, Dusty-dear?” chirruped Cinderpelt.

Dustpelt stiffened as Mistyfoot passed. “Yes, yes,” he grumbled. “Let’s go...”

Mistyfoot ignored them. She reached Stoneheart and Nightfrost and touched her nose to her brother’s in greeting, purring and stepping away afterward to look him over. She had expected him to be just as beat up as she was, but he had only a few patches of poultice on his pelt, and he must’ve been cleared to leave camp by Littlecloud.

“Mind if we chat?” As usual, Stoneheart wasted no time. He glanced at Nightfrost and added, “Alone?”

“It’s okay,” Nightfrost mewed before Mistyfoot could protest. He flicked his tail against Mistyfoot’s flank. “I’m taking Daisy out for some hunting practice anyway. Misty’s all yours, Stoneheart.”

Mistyfoot looked up at her brother. “We can go to the lake,” she offered. That would get him far away from camp and settle the nerves of the ThunderClan warriors.

Stoneheart nodded in agreement. “Let’s go.”

———————————————————

They walked down to the lakeshore together without a word, with only the sounds of the breeze in the trees and the birds accompanying them. When they passed the treeline and headed for the glittering waters of the lake, their paws scattering the little pebbles on the shore, Mistyfoot breathed deep the clear air and let it stir her whiskers.

It had been such a long time since it had been just the two of them. As they chose a spot with more sand than pebbles to sit, Mistyfoot reflected that they really hadn’t had a time like this since they were apprentices - together in the same Clan, with Mosspaw and Oakheart.

So much had changed. Mosspaw was dead. Stoneheart went to ShadowClan. Oakheart’s fate was unknown in the old forest. The Great Journey, representing their Clans as they found this new home. They had done so much together, but through none of it had they just sat together, only the two of them, with nothing else going on. As his fur brushed hers, Mistyfoot supposed this was their only chance at that kind of moment.

She glanced his way. As always, Stoneheart had his chin high and his gaze stoic and unreadable as he stared across the lake’s surface. Always trying to be ShadowClan to his core. She wondered if he was thinking the same things she was. She would never know, she supposed - he had always been like Bluestar in that way.

“I came to say thank you,” Stoneheart rasped, finally, “for stopping me. You kept me from doing something I would’ve regretted for the rest of my life.”

Mistyfoot shifted on her paws, pushing away a stone that was annoying one of her pads. “It’s nothing, really,” she mumbled. “I just couldn’t watch you do it.”

Stoneheart blinked. “I should’ve been smarter,” he mewed, his tone grating against buried frustration. “I should’ve seen what Bluestar was trying to convince me of.” His claws scraped the pebbles. “I went into it knowing exactly who she was, yet she still found a way to pull me along by my whiskers...”

Mistyfoot shivered at the thought. “It’s what she does,” she murmured. She stared at the lake, watching the waves ebb and flow with the wind, gentle as a mother’s tongue - not theirs, though. “No matter what, it’s just in her nature to manipulate others.” She sighed. “The wind blows, and Bluestar manipulates.”

“When everyone was captured - when Twolegs took Rowanclaw - I just... Something snapped in me,” Stoneheart admitted. “She used it against me - used him against me.” His muscles tensed. “She made me think that I was the only thing keeping ShadowClan from teetering into the abyss and disappearing forever.”

He slapped at one of the pebbles, sending it clattering down toward the water’s edge. “And I believed it!” he hissed.

“I don’t blame you for believing it!” Mistyfoot pointed out swiftly. She looked at her brother, how rigid he was - the fur along his shoulders was bristling. “She’s evil, Stoneheart!”

“But I should’ve known that!” Stoneheart growled. His paws churned the ground. “She’s always been able to use me,” he murmured. “Ever since I was an apprentice. Even when I felt her words begin to change me, it was like I was outside my own body, watching some other cat use my claws. It was so humiliating - but when I disobeyed or fought back, I would see Rowanclaw in the back of a Twoleg monster, screaming my name, begging for help as he disappeared.” He gasped, breathless. His eyes shimmered with sorrow. “I just couldn’t live with that.”

Mistyfoot’s ears pricked as Stoneheart’s words sank in. Bluestar would make him see Rowanclaw suffer to keep him in line? It brought to mind her constant, violent dreams of Stormfur and his death, especially the one that very morning, which had happened after she had spat at Bluestar.

Has she been doing the same thing to me? Her heart thudded in her ears. The dreams had kept her scared, paralyzed, and anxious in the day. Then, at night, she would see Bluestar again, and she would offer her advice. A sick feeling grew in Mistyfoot’s stomach.

Stoneheart turned to Mistyfoot, his expression broken - sorrow and anger and frustration, all mingling on his face. It was so rare a sight that she had to put her thoughts to the side to grapple with it right that instant and prevent herself from flinching at her own brother.

“Thank you, Mistyfoot,” he expressed earnestly. “For snapping me out of it.”

Mistyfoot struggled for words. All she could manage was, “Any time,” which seemed very weak for the occasion.

Stoneheart seemed to accept it, regardless. He shook some sand from his paw as if trying to shake off his burst of emotion. “I don’t know if I’ll see Bluestar again, but if I do, I’ll make her wish she left me alone,” he decided, determination in his mew. His gaze flickered to her. “I suggest you do the same, Mistyfoot.”

“Agreed,” Mistyfoot murmured. “I just wish we knew how to break it off for good.” She sighed. “Anytime I’ve tried to leave on my own, she’s told me that there’s no escape from her.”

“Tch,” Stoneheart snorted. “She says that like we haven’t been living our own lives for seasons at this point. Like we haven’t made lives for ourselves, by ourselves.” He shook his muzzle. “She’s just a dead cat now - how much power does she think she even has?”

Mistyfoot flicked her tail. How much power did Bluestar have, all alone in that light-forsaken forest? She certainly seemed to act like she had quite a bit - but perhaps that was just that, an act?

I don’t want to find out, Mistyfoot thought, shivering beneath her pelt. I’m done with her.

“Anyway, I’m not here just for sappy littermate-talk,” Stoneheart grunted. He lifted his muzzle again. “While I was out trying to track down Jacques and Susan and learn their movements, I discovered something interesting about our territories.”

“Oh?” Mistyfoot tilted her head. “What is it?”

“Don’t let Russetstar know I told you this, but,” Stoneheart began, “I found out that the kittypets were using tunnels beneath our territory to travel around the woods and ambush us - that’s why they always kept away from the marshes, because there aren’t any there.”

Mistyfoot’s eyes widened. “Tunnels...?”

“They looked to be hollowed out from old prey dens,” Stoneheart went on, oblivious to Mistyfoot’s shock. “I followed a few of them, and they seemed to go all around the woods and into the forest, too. Some even went towards RiverClan territory.” He nodded to Mistyfoot and mewed, “You should keep a lookout for any entrances on your side of the stream. If they go into WindClan territory, too, that means someone could walk all around the lake without even having to set paw aboveground!”

Mistyfoot’s heart hammered in her chest. “Did you plug them up?” she asked.

“Most of them, but I’m sure there are others,” Stoneheart answered. “Might even be some in the Deep Woods.” He sighed. “It answers how they managed to ambush us, but I still have no idea how they learned about how Clan cats fight or our patrol schedules. None of the tunnels had exits close to our camp.”

“Did anyone from ShadowClan tell them?” Mistyfoot wondered.

Stoneheart narrowed his gaze. “Absolutely not!” he insisted. “We kept well away from the kittypets until they started attacking us.” He sniffed. “Maybe they were more observant than we thought.”

“Maybe,” Mistyfoot mumbled.

Stoneheart chuckled weakly, “Maybe Bluestar trained them, too!”

Mistyfoot rolled her eyes and pushed at her brother with her good paw. “Please,” she scoffed, “Bluestar, lower herself to teaching a kittypet? She would never!”

“Hey,” Stoneheart chided, “she’s done it before!”

“And she regrets it every moment, I’m sure!” Mistyfoot purred.

Stoneheart’s purr went rusty, fading into a low rumble. “I should go,” he sighed. “Your Clan is probably wondering whether or not I’ve eaten you.”

“That or they think you’re coming back to ThunderClan,” Mistyfoot joked. She honestly wasn’t sure which one they would think was worse. She got up and stretched, extending her forepaws toward the water.

Stoneheart shook his muzzle, sighing. “ShadowClan is my home,” he said softly, warmly. “It’s where I belong.”

“I know,” Mistyfoot purred, coming up from her stretch. She touched her nose to Stoneheart’s shoulder. She had long since stopped wishing he would return to ThunderClan. He was right where he wanted to be, and she figured no cat deserved that more. “Take care, Stoneheart.”

“And you, deputy of ThunderClan,” Stoneheart said, smiling at her. He licked her around an ear. “See you at the next Gathering.”

And then he was up and gone, trotting along the pebbly shore. Mistyfoot watched him melt into the shadows of the treeline, keeping himself on the agreed-upon path two fox-lengths from the lake. She breathed in the clear, open air and sighed.

Her brother was safe, and so was ShadowClan - but Stoneheart bringing up the kittypets being trained dug its claws into her mind and wouldn’t let go, questions that she might never have the answers to:

Who trained the kittypets, and what did this have to do with the tunnels that seemed to span the whole lake territory?

[twilights-800-cats]

the ending to sunset is coming up so soon! no spoilers, but will stuff with onewhisker and barkface and the intruder in the tunnels come to a conclusion in this arc or is that saved for arc 3?

These things will be addressed, yes, but will they be concluded? Who knows...

I do. I know. Patrons also know, but y'know :P

[twilights-800-cats]

Honestly, it's kinda nuts to think that this week will mark the end of arc two of an AU that I started over ten years ago as a joke? Even if I don't make it all the way through the third arc I'll have written, what, fourteen books? Just for this??

I know my AU isn't perfect, but I'm still really proud of it! It's crazy that so many people are still reading it and look forward to new entries. I can only hope my original work can do the same :P

[twilights-800-cats]

Arc 3 is Omen of the star? What would happen to Power of Three then? Are they combine or one of the two is gonna be cut?

Power of Three and Omen of the Stars will be merged in the TB AU! There will be elements from both, along with new stuff. It will focus on the Omen Four!

Who are they? Who knoooows (I do)!!!

[twilights-800-cats]

(1/3) hi! i was a huge fan back in 2019-2020 but lost track of the au since. gestures at the timeframe. but i was thinking about it recently and decided to reread from the beginning and i've been consuming these books for the past 2 weeks and you have brought me back into warriors hell haha! ultimately, just wanted to say that you really hit your stride around book 6 of arc 1 and arc 2 has been SO MUCH FUN. i'm truly baffled by Twilight and Sunset in the best way

Lumping all these together!

I'm always excited to hear stuff like this! The AU is so long and has so many individual books that if you need to step back and read it later, I'm 100% okay with that. Take your time!

No one is obligated to pay for my Patreon, since all main story content for the AU will become public after a delay! I only ask that if you do decide to subscribe, don't do it on an Apple mobile device - it's more expensive since the Apple Store asks for a ridiculous cut of the profits, even from a $1 tip jar like mine :P

Since you brought it up, Moonrise and Mothwing were two of the stories I looked forward to the most. All of the Great Journey books were difficult in some way (except Midnight, honestly), and Moonrise was smashing two novellas together and hoping they worked. If you're going to do more than one PoV in a story, even a fanfic, it's got to have a purpose.

I'm also glad that folks like my version of the Tribe. I didn't want to change them too much; I just wanted to make them seem strong enough to stand on their own under normal circumstances. They've been living in the mountains for ages, and they know what they're doing!

And yeah, Mothwing's side of things was something I was really looking forward to writing since the beginning. The way they handle Mothwing's faith crisis in canon felt believable enough until you realized that StarClan is provably tangible and real. They're not disputable. In the AU, she's disappointed that they're not what they were sold to her as! And that's fine!

CrowLeaf is also a big fav of mine lol. I understand exactly how messy and silly it is, but I loved it as a kid. Having the opportunity to right that ship a little bit has been cathartic. Mistyfoot has also become a huge fav of mine to write! I love the entire main Great Journey crew, but she's come out on top, I think.

Arc Two has been a blast to write, both really fun and super frustrating at times. It's full of a ton of things that I've wanted to see since the inception of the AU, when I didn't think I'd get this far. Sunset will be posting its final chapter over on Patreon this Friday! That's nuts!!!

And while I'm here, I am planning to do Arc Three, Omen of the Stars. Since it's the finale arc of the series, however, I want to make sure it's done right, so it might take a while to come out... and I might even decide I can't do it even then. So far, though, it's on the table, and I'm drafting the first book!

There will also be a novella, exclusive to Patreon, that will be released later this year. It's an intro to the third arc, and it'll be a long while before it's public.

Thank you so much for reading and enjoying the story - not just you, but everyone throughout the years, too! It means so much to me! Knowing that my writing excites people is a real boost to my confidence, especially regarding my original works. It makes me feel that one day I might be in a bookstore or something, lol

Again and again, thank you <3

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 18 || Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 19

The ShadowClan cats moved like wraiths through their territory, their paws skimming over the pine needles without a sound. Mistyfoot guessed that the ThunderClan cats seemed clumsy and loud in comparison. It was a stark difference from when Pansytail had led her through the woods, slow and fearful, halting at every stray noise. The determination to put an end to the kittypets had returned ShadowClan’s confidence.

She wasn’t sure where they were going - the ShadowClan cats, led by Russetstar and Blackfoot, seemed to be following one of their own hunting trails deeper into the woods, where the trees began to grow tall and foreboding. Between the aspens, cedars, and pines were the occasional stunted oak or struggling birch, incapable of growing anywhere near as monstrous as their neighbors.

Mistyfoot’s pelt prickled, unsettled. It felt like the heavy, oppressive branches of the domineering pines were suppressing all sound and, as they wound deeper into the woods, all light, too. Each step reminded her more and more of the forest in her dreams, still and stagnant and absent of all life.

How does ShadowClan stand it? She wondered. Not a single one of them seemed bothered by the persistent quiet. She swallowed. No wonder ShadowClan’s reputation for cold-heartedness was so prominent - Mistyfoot felt like if she lived here, it would sap her of all warmth, too.

Suddenly, Russetstar raised her tail. The entire patrol drew to a halt, their labored breathing and the sound of paws scuffling pine needles the only sounds in the woods. Mistyfoot looked around - the land here was flatter, and it seemed like something other than pines could survive long enough to grow tall in the thin shafts of sunlight allowed through. There was some sparse undergrowth, just some briars and brambles, but already Mistyfoot felt more at home.

“Ahead are the Deep Woods,” chuckled Redclaw, who sidled close to her. “You think ShadowClan territory is dark and strange? Try living there...”

Mistyfoot knew the young warrior was just trying to spook the ThunderClan cats, but it worked - the idea of there being someplace even a ShadowClan cat didn’t want to go was terrifying. She stared ahead, wondering if she could see what Redclaw was talking about, but all that lay beyond them were lengths and lengths of woodland that eventually blurred into dark, incomprehensible smudges.

She refocused herself on the task at her paws. It wouldn’t do if she were distracted right now. Russetstar and Tinystar were observing the area, considering it for their ambush site. Mistyfoot pricked her ears, listening in:

“... there’s some low-lying growth there we can hide in,” Tinystar mentioned, gesturing with his tail towards the briars. “Its scent should disguise us while we wait. It’s a good choice.”

Russetstar nodded in agreement. “And it’s clear enough to look like they might be able to escape,” she mused. “Until we cut them off, that is.”

“And how do we intend to do that?” Blackfoot wondered. He stepped forward, angling his ear toward the ThunderClan cats. “There’s more warriors than we had planned for here.”

Mistyfoot looked up. “The trees,” she suggested. This earned her some interested looks from her Clanmates and the ShadowClan warriors, so she elaborated: “ShadowClan can hide in the undergrowth while Larchpaw and Rushpaw create their diversion. The moment you expose yourselves, though, Jacques and Susan are going to want to run for their nest.”

“And that’s when we leap down from the trees,” Tinystar guessed, his eyes sparkling warmly, “and make them realize that ShadowClan isn’t as alone as they thought.”

“Yes,” Mistyfoot agreed. She nodded at Tinystar, glad that he was following her thinking. “Exactly.”

“Sounds good,” Russetstar decided. She dipped her head to Mistyfoot and mewed briskly, “A fine idea.”

Beside her, Nightfrost purred. He looked up at her, his eyes sparkling proudly. Mistyfoot felt a warmth in her chest, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. It had been a quick, off-the-cuff sort of idea, and she was glad that Russetstar approved and, even more, that Tinystar was pleased.

“It’s just like you, Misty,” grunted a voice, “coming up with a plan like that out of nowhere.”

Mistyfoot jumped at the sound of Stoneheart’s voice. His dark gray shape seemed to come from nothing, slipping out from the shadows of the towering aspens. He prowled towards the group, his scent clouded by the pungent tang of pine sap and some other smell that tickled Mistyfoot’s nose. The ShadowClan cats had expected him, but the ThunderClan patrol was shocked by his sudden appearance as he padded between them and up to Russetstar. Mistyfoot heard more than one ShadowClan warrior chuckling at ThunderClan’s reaction.

“Are they coming?”Russetstar asked, ignoring her Clanmates.

Stoneheart nodded, his gaze serious. “Right this way,” he said, “and as uncaring as always. They’ll be here soon.”

Mistyfoot trembled. Stoneheart’s expression was like ice, and she wasn’t sure what to say to him - not that there was time for much talk, anyway. Her heart jammed in her throat, her blood burning - they weren’t planning on this becoming a battle, but it was always a possibility.

She felt Nightfrost brush his tail against her shoulder. The gesture was small, but it felt like he knew exactly what she needed, and that was everything to Mistyfoot at the moment. She took a deep, steadying breath. One thing at a time, she told herself. Get rid of the kittypets, and then maybe Stoneheart and I can talk.

“Alright, then,” Tinystar meowed sharply, turning to face the patrol. “ThunderClan, I want you to go and roll in some of the undergrowth,” he ordered. “Disguise your scents as best as you can and then get up into some of those trees over there - get as high as you dare. When the time is right, we’ll jump down and cut off the kittypets before they can escape.”

“Right,” meowed Cinderpelt, nodding. She waved her tail to the other warriors. “Come on.”

“Be safe, Larchpaw,” murmured Ferncloud. She had this one spare moment, and she used it to brush her muzzle against her son’s.

“I will,” Larchpaw promised, purring deep in his chest.

Beside him, Rushpaw was looking at his father as if expecting the same thing - but Cedarheart only gave him a curt, cold nod before stalking off. He disappeared with Redclaw beneath the huge leaves of a bush.

Mistyfoot felt a pang for the young cat. Couldn’t a ShadowClan cat even wish their kit well?

There wasn’t time to dwell on it. The ShadowClan cats drifted towards their hiding spots, disappearing just as smoothly as Stoneheart had appeared. As they did, Ashfur had found a good spot to roll in, and Mistyfoot got to her paws to join her Clanmates as they flopped into a pile of freshly-fallen pine needles and covered themselves in their scent.

“Reminds me a bit of the mud in the mountains,” Nightfrost chuckled as he got up, shaking a stubborn pine frond from his back.

Mistyfoot’s eyes were stinging fiercely. “Yeah,” she gasped, feeling the sap sealing her fur into uncomfortable clumps. “Sure!”

“Ugh,” complained Swiftfoot, “we’re going to be licking pine tar from our pelts for weeks.”

“Nothing a good swim in the lake won’t fix!” Ferncloud joked.

Cinderpelt looked disgusted at a clump of needles that had merged with her shoulder fur. “I’m going to have bald spots for moons...” she muttered.

Despite the complaining, they were done some moments later, and they split into smaller groups to climb up the trees. Ferncloud had gone with Cinderpelt up an oak, while Ashfur took up in the branches of its neighbor with Swiftfoot. Tinystar chose his own tree, while Mistyfoot and Nightfrost claimed the last, each finding adjacent branches of a slightly leaning cedar to cling to.

Mistyfoot pressed herself up against the trunk. The gray bark would hide both their pelts well, and if she looked down, she had a great view of the ambush site, along with a view of some of the ShadowClan cats who were mingling with the sparse undergrowth. She could see the tips of Stoneheart’s ears where he was crouched with Cedarheart.

She dug her claws into the wood, taking another deep breath. The kittypets could be moments away, and this might be their only chance to make an impact strong enough to drive them away. This had to work.

Larchpaw and Rushpaw wandered into the center of the trees - the two of them clearly had a plan in mind, wandering slowly, looking distinctively lost. Mistyfoot tilted her head, curious. Larchpaw seemed to be in the lead, and he paused, looking uncertain, turning and tilting his head.

Rushpaw came up close and, loudly, he complained, “Don’t tell me we’re lost!”

Larchpaw turned to him, worried. Slurring his words, he babbled, “W-Wha’?”

“I knew letting you lead the patrol was a bad idea!” Rushpaw hissed. “You couldn’t hear a bird if it squawked in your ear, and now we’re going to get in trouble!”

Larchpaw looked distressed. He tried moving his paws, but Rushpaw shook his head and hissed, “Save it - we’re so far off our route it’s going to take ‘till sunset to get back. All because you can’t hear a thing!”

Mistyfoot grimaced. If she hadn’t known this was an act, she would’ve felt bad for Larchpaw - no cat in ThunderClan would dare talk to him like that. But the gray-and-white tom was taking it all well, glowering at Rushpaw before pouncing on the ShadowClan apprentice with a frustrated growl.

The two wrestled in the pine needles and leaf litter, slapping one another with sheathed paws. To the observer from above, it was clear it was an unserious spar - but to the two kittypets prowling out of the shadows, it looked exactly like the perfect time to pounce on two young, distracted cats.

Mistyfoot tensed, holding her breath. Jacques and Susan rounded Rushpaw and Larchpaw, their bellies close to the ground as they encircled the young cats. The two apprentices were pretending to be too absorbed in their play-fight to see them coming until Jacques nodded to Susan, and the two pounced-

-only to come up empty-pawed. Larchpaw and Rushpaw had quickly rolled out of their way, coming apart from their fight with their claws unsheathed and teeth bared in furious hisses. Jacques and Susan whirled on them, backs arched, suddenly caught between the two apprentices in the middle of the clearing.

Good job, Mistyfoot thought, her heart pounding. It had been a smart reversal of positioning, even if the kittypets didn’t seem to notice what had happened. The perfect setup for their ambush.

“Stupid kits!” hissed Jacques down below. The bulky tom lashed his tail. “You think you’re a match for us?”

“They sure fooled you!” Susan laughed, nudging her denmate. “I think we need to teach them a lesson, Jacques...”

“You two are the only cats who need to learn a lesson here.” Russetstar’s voice was as powerful as her stride as she padded out from her hiding spot, her head raised confidently and her green eyes glittering with determination.

Before the kittypets could react, the rest of the ShadowClan patrol revealed themselves, prowling from the shadows - from the baffled looks on the kittypet’s faces, it was clear they hadn’t noticed their presence.

The ShadowClan cats formed a half-moon shape around the kittypets, lining up behind Rushpaw. Mistyfoot saw the glint of their claws, and her pelt rippled with anticipation - any moment now, Tinystar would give the signal.

Jacques and Susan pressed their pelts together, lips curled over their teeth, moving as one as they endeavored to keep all the cats in sight as they backed up towards Larchpaw. Clearly, they thought they could make it past him without an issue.

“Jacques and Susan,” Russetstar declared, baring her teeth, “you are hereby banished from ShadowClan territory on pain of death.”

Jacques snorted. “Please - you think that’s going to work on us?” He hissed, “You freaky cats don’t own these woods!”

“This is our place!” Susan snapped. “It was ours before you lot got here!”

“You’re being given a chance to turn away now,” Russetstar meowed, her tone careful and dangerous, “before you both get hurt.”

Jacques sneered, curling his lip over his bright white fangs. “I think we’ll be just fine - by the way, what happened to that little cat we met by the campground? I don’t see him here right now.” His tail kinked with amusement. “He seemed pretty hurt...”

Mistyfoot’s heart raced. The ShadowClan line held despite the blatant taunt, but she could see eyes narrowing and tails lashing. Rushpaw and Cedarheart sported matching looks of thunder, and Stoneheart’s shoulders were squared firmly. This could go wrong if one of them broke the line and scared the kittypets off too soon.

Jacques seemed to be powered by sheer audacity. He stepped closer to Russetstar and hissed, “We like things just the way they are - you Clan cats scream real good when you bleed!”

Susan, bolstered by her denmate, joined in: “You think we’re scared of you? You run like prey, and you die like prey - pathetic and useless!”

“One more chance,” Russetstar meowed, her voice carefully controlled. Mistyfoot could see that her eyes were like flames.

Jacques spat at her paws. “You don’t know shit about these woods, Clan cat. You never will. This isn’t your home, and we’ll make sure you wish you’d left sooner.” He flicked his tail to Susan and growled, “C’mon. Let’s go.”

As they turned their backs to walk away, Russetstar twitched her whiskers.

The trees shook as ThunderClan descended. The wind curled its claws into Mistyfoot’s pelt as she unlatched herself from the tree and let herself fall to the woodland floor. Tinystar landed first, just beside Larchpaw, then came Ashfur and Swiftfoot to flank him. Cinderpelt and Ferncloud landed next, and finally, Nightfrost and Mistyfoot hit the ground and completed the trap, claws unsheathed and fur bristling with anger.

Fully surrounded now, Jacques and Susan backed up toward the center of the clearing, hissing, the fur along their spines rippling with aggression.

“What is this?” Susan spat. Her eyes flashed between the ThunderClan cats. “Who are you?”

“Did you think ShadowClan was the only Clan around the lake?” Tinystar wondered softly, tipping his head. His ice-blue eyes narrowed. “Surely you’re not that mouse-brained?”

“We’re ThunderClan,” growled Swiftfoot. He took a step closer, his bulk and scarred features looking menacing in the gloom of the woods. “And you’re going to regret meeting us.”

Susan stared frantically at all the cats surrounding them. She hissed to Jacques, “What is this? Wasn’t this not supposed to happen?!”

Mistyfoot frowned, twitching an ear. What does that mean?

“Shut up!” snapped Jacques to Susan. He whipped his head around to face Russetstar again, snarling, “You’re so weak you’re asking another Clan for help? You’re pathetic!”

“The only pathetic ones here are you two,” Russetstar retorted mildly. She flicked her tail. “Hiding in the shadows, only fighting battles you know you can win, killing the defenseless...” She curled her lip over her teeth in disgust. “What a sad, sorry way to live.”

She licked the fur of her shoulder as if they were an afterthought. “We gave you the chance to coexist, and you spat in our faces, threatened my Clan, and killed my cats.” Her tone was dangerously mild as she turned her gaze on them. “As clever as the two of you think you are, there’s one thing you didn’t consider:

“We Clans might be divided by borders, but when push comes to shove, we stand together as one.” Russetstar’s dark green eyes were smoldering with restrained fury. “This land is ours. Face that and leave this place alive - never bother us again, or spit on it once more and die.” Her whiskers twitched. “Truly, I care little for which option you choose.”

Mistyfoot’s pelt prickled at the horrible coldness in Russetstar’s voice. The silence that followed was just as chilly, as if a leafbare breeze had blown down from the mountains to freeze the land in place. Both Clans stood their ground rigidly, claws unsheathed and expressions intense, surrounding the kittypets as they huddled together, eyes darting for any means of escape.

“Fine!” spat Jacques, finally. The fur of his haunches was puffed as he decided, “We’ll leave.”

Russetstar tilted her head. Before she could say anything, though, Stoneheart stepped forward.

“Truly?” he asked. His voice dripped with ice, a coldness that matched his gaze. “You expect us to think you’ll leave us alone just like that?”

“Why not?” Jacques snapped at him, spittle flying from between his jaws. He squared his blotchy shoulders, his eyes darting around at the cats surrounding him. “None of you freaks are worth it, anyway.”

“You killed two of my Clanmates,” Stoneheart meowed softly, taking another step closer. “One of them was an old, wise warrior.”

“Not wise enough!” blurted Susan, lashing her tail.

Stoneheart swept over her, continuing to prowl closer to the kittypets: “The other was one of my best friend’s kits. The brother of my apprentice.” He flicked his tail toward Rushpaw. “You expect us to just forget that?”

Stoneheart, what are you doing? Mistyfoot thought, trembling. Why was he taunting them when they had already agreed to leave? She glanced at Nightfrost, who was just as confused, and then at Tinystar, whose eyes were narrowed into considering slits.

“You expect us to forget that you ambushed them when they were alone, when they were vulnerable,” Stoneheart hissed, drawing so close to Jacques that his breath stirred the black-and-white tom’s whiskers, “that you sent your Twoleg after them or sank your claws into them, leaving both to die?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You expect us to believe you when you say you’ll leave us alone?”

Jacques backed up a step. His voice trembled slightly, unnerved as he hissed, “Fuck off, Clan cat.”

Stoneheart’s gaze flickered over the tom’s face. Mistyfoot felt a chill run down her spine. “Do you remember me?” he said. “I almost took your eye a season or so ago because you attacked us without provocation...”

Mistyfoot trembled. That quiet hatred in his voice - he sounded so much like Bluestar that it felt like she was in the hollow of Fourtrees again, confronting her and her LionClan. Mistyfoot’s throat went dry.

“I think I’ll take your eye now,” Stoneheart murmured, just a pace away from the big black-and-white tom. He hissed through his teeth, “For ShadowClan. For Orre. For Willowpaw.”

Jacques sputtered, “What’re you-”

Stoneheart lunged, swift as a snake, tackling Jacques to the ground. The kittypet landed with a surprised grunt - but his shock didn't last long. His claws flashed as he regained his composure, and he pulled Stoneheart into a flurry of claws and fur.

“Stoneheart, stop!” Mistyfoot wailed. Her heart pounded in her ears. Beside her, Nightfrost made a horrified noise in his throat.

“What does he think he’s doing?” hissed Ferncloud. Her eyes were wide to their whites. “That’s not what we agreed on!”

Tinystar looked across the clearing to Russetstar. Mistyfoot flashed a glance her way, too, hoping that even ShadowClan’s leader was disturbed by what her warrior was doing - but a dreadful feeling crept up her pelt when she realized that not only did the ShadowClan warriors look like they approved, but Russetstar was looking on with interest as if this had been the real plan all along.

Was it? Mistyfoot wondered, horrified. Were they actually going to try and kill the kittypets?

“Jacques!” screeched Susan as she scrambled out of the way of the battling toms. “Get off of him, you monster!” When nothing happened, the tabby she-cat whipped around to Russetstar and snapped, her voice wavering, “You said we’d be safe if we backed down!”

Russetstar’s eyes flashed. “You think your word alone has any value to me?” she replied with all the chill of leafbare. “You shed our blood. Swallow what awaits you with dignity, for once in your pathetic lives.”

Susan let out a screech that vibrated her entire body before she flung herself into the fight, joining her teeth and claws with Jacques’. She sank her jaws into Stoneheart’s shoulder. Mistyfoot felt a sick feeling in her gut as the scent of blood began to cloud the air.

Bluestar did this. She did. She could almost see the ghost of her mother at Stoneheart’s ear, egging him on even as his gray shape disappeared beneath the two writhing, screeching kittypets. Mistyfoot couldn’t take it.

She leaped into the fight with a hiss, claws out, catching Susan’s shoulder and pulling her off her brother. She turned and slammed Susan to the ground with all she had, digging her teeth into the she-cat’s ear and battering her belly with her hind claws. Mistyfoot could hear Nightfrost wailing for her to come back, to stop, but she couldn’t - she couldn’t watch Stoneheart do this, not just to the kittypets, but to himself.

Susan retaliated with a blow to the head so hard that Mistyfoot saw stars for a moment. As she staggered, backing off of her foe, Susan took the opportunity to kick Mistyfoot square in the chest, sending her flying.

Use your tail. Right yourself!

It kicked in. All of it. All of the nightly combat training swirled in Mistyfoot’s mind as she landed neatly on all fours, something that Susan hadn’t expected. With a brief gasp of air for recovery, Mistyfoot charged, wrapping her forelegs around Susan’s neck and dragging her down again while her hind claws lashed at the kittypet’s spine.

Susan wiggled like a fish, trying to escape, but Mistyfoot clamped her jaws down onto the scruff of her neck, keeping her in place. Susan’s frantic efforts slowly grew weaker, and Mistyfoot could feel Susan beginning to accept the inevitable, her heartbeat thudding fast and hard beneath Mistyfoot’s belly and her blood seeping through Mistyfoot’s claws.

Yes, whispered the voice. Do it. Teach her a lesson.

Mistyfoot felt her mother’s breath in her ear, cold as the grave. She couldn’t let go of Susan quick enough, spitting out fur pulled tabby she-cat’s scruff and kicking her away with as much force as she could muster. Mistyfoot scrambled to her paws, her pelt stinging.

“Never,” she hissed, low and fierce.

Stoneheart and Jacques were still fighting, rolling together in the dirt and testing the boundaries of the line of warriors. Panting, Mistyfoot watched, desperately looking for her opening - their paws were red, and both were fighting relentlessly, each trying to get the advantage over the other. Jaws snapped at throats, and claws scored down soft bellies, blood caking and clotting their thick fur.

Mistyfoot’s blood roared in her ears. This fight could go either way - they were both like cats possessed, with Stoneheart using every ounce of his training and Jacques pulling out some shocking moves of his own that Mistyfoot, much to her horror, recognized as the same ones that Bluestar had taught her.

Before she could wonder about that, Stoneheart got the advantage. It was an old ThunderClan trick - he went limp beneath Jacques, exposing his belly, and just when the huge black-and-white tom was about to sink his jaws into Stoneheart’s throat, the gray tom slammed both his forepaws into either side of the kittypet’s head. Stunned and staggering, Jacques was easily brought down.

Stoneheart’s teeth flashed from a bloody muzzle.

Mistyfoot sprang.

Her body crashed into Stoneheart’s just before his teeth could meet Jacques’s throat, sending them both barreling between Pinewhisker and Ashfur, rolling out of the clearing into the woods.

As they rolled together, tearing through the undergrowth, Stoneheart struggled fiercely. Mistyfoot felt his claws scrape at her pelt and heard his guttural growling and snarling as she dug her own claws in for a deeper hold. Finally, they tumbled to a stop in the gnarled roots of an alder tree, their pelts sticky with sap and stinging from briar thorns.

“Let me go!” he demanded, breathless, as he pulled his muzzle out from beneath Mistyfoot’s bulk. He hissed, “Why did you stop me?!”

“Because that’s not you!” Mistyfoot snapped back, choking on her brother’s bloody fur. “None of this is!”

“You don't know anything about me!” Stoneheart snapped back. He wiggled fiercely, trying to give his paws purchase.

“I know you don’t kill!” Mistyfoot retorted, pressing down harder.

Stoneheart writhed more. “He deserves it!”

“Maybe he does,” Mistyfoot returned, her voice ragged and desperate. “Maybe they both do! They’re both awful! But why is revenge the only answer here?”

Stoneheart clamped his jaws down hard on her leg. Mistyfoot howled in pain, forced to unclench and let him go. While she reeled, the feel of her brother’s teeth white-hot in her mind, Stoneheart got to his paws and spat blood onto the earth.

“They don’t deserve mercy,” Stoneheart snapped, his words clawing at his throat.

Mistyfoot tested her leg, wincing as pain shot up to her shoulder. Blood trickled down to her paw. Panting, she realized she wouldn’t be able to run after Stoneheart if he chose to go after Jacques again. This was her last chance to pull him back.

“Stone, please...” she urged. “Please, really think about this. They’ve learned their lesson.” She stared into his eyes and asked, “Who would killing them be for? You? Or Bluestar? And where would it end? Kill one cat for her, and who knows what else she’ll make you do?”

Stoneheart stiffened. “Don’t you dare-”

“Will you just listen to me?” Mistyfoot begged from between her teeth. Pain lanced up her leg as she staggered to her paws. “You’ve always been the smarter one between the two of us, and what you just did was reckless and mouse-brained! This isn’t you, Stoneheart!”

Stoneheart shut his jaws. His gaze flickered with some emotion that Mistyfoot could not identify.

“You’re not a killer,” Mistyfoot gasped desperately. She stumbled forward, nearly crashing into him. Instead of helping her, he shifted out of her way. As she righted herself, she hissed up at her brother, “And you’re not the type of cat to hurt me.”

Stoneheart backed away by the fox-length, his eyes wide in horror as if he were finally seeing what he had done to his sister.

“Look at what she’s turning you into,” Mistyfoot whispered. Her eyes stung with sorrow. “You have the strength to protect ShadowClan, Stoneheart, but that’s not something you ever needed to do on your own.” She swallowed, tasting blood - was it hers? Stoneheart’s? Susan’s? She didn’t know, and it didn’t matter: “That’s why we’re Clans in the first place! So we can protect ourselves and each other!”

Stoneheart’s eyes wavered. He took another few staggering steps back, his jaws opening and shutting as if he were a fish gasping for breath. Mistyfoot’s heart was in her throat. She hadn’t thought the lesson she had taught Daisy would need to be repeated to her brother.

Say something! she urged, desperate to hear his voice. Say anything!

“Mistyfoot!” cried Nightfrost’s voice. It sounded so far away, but when Mistyfoot turned her head, she saw his small, dark shape only a few tail-lengths away. He rushed up to her, tail bushed, skidding to a stop that sprayed pine needles between the siblings. “Are you two okay?”

Mistyfoot sneezed as the scent of fresh pine hit her nose. “I am,” she gasped. “We-” She looked past Nightfrost and saw through streaming eyes that Stoneheart was gone. She swallowed. “I think we both are.”

She hoped she was right.

Nightfrost glanced to where Stoneheart had once been, then back at Mistyfoot. His eyes were soft with sympathy, but he didn't ask what had happened. Instead, he explained, breathless, “The kittypets are gone now. They got the message.”

“Good,” Mistyfoot breathed. Her entire body felt like it was sticky and on fire at the same time, and her legs trembled to support her weight.

“We have to go,” Nightfrost murmured. “Russetstar doesn’t want us on her territory anymore.” He glanced down at her leg and asked, “Can you walk?”

Mistyfoot looked down, too. Though the bite had hurt, the pain was ebbing, and Stoneheart’s teeth had only broken skin. She tested it again. It hurt, but she could move forward.

“I can,” she said. She took a deep breath, drawing in the tangy smell of the pine sap and marshland, tinged with the harsh, coppery scent of blood. Beneath it all, though, was the faintest whiff of Bluestar, something she never wanted to smell again.

Shivering, she decided, “Let’s go home.”

[twilights-800-cats]

I have seen that in some of your art you put “oblivion” to some of the cats that have doble die, Is some lore about this that would play in the TB AU?

Well, I did that because there's no other confirmed word for what happened to those characters in canon, since that art pertains to canon characters. Being double-dead implies that you're just, poof, gone forever, never to be seen again, and "oblivion" seemed fitting, though maybe not as neutral a word as I'd like for something like that (simply "faded away" isn't always correct, either). There are so few characters this happens to that if I'm proven wrong in the future, who cares!

As far as it relates to the TB AU... it kinda doesn't? Like, the afterlife in the TB AU has slight differences from canon, but it's not so fundamentally changed. Just made more consistent. I don't know if that makes sense, but Arc Three will get into more of that stuff if I get there.

[twilights-800-cats]

Warrior cats my beloved