When Goldenflower first started calling Firepaw/heart/star 'honeymouse', how did the other cats react? I imagine they knew the meaning behind it and knew that she was essentially claiming Firepaw as her son.
Were they like giving him a knowing smile that he had no idea of the meaning, or were they thinking 'ugh, I can't believe she's adopting the kittypet, now he'll never leave' or were some of them even looking at him and thinking 'I can understand why she's adopting him, he's adorable'?
Sorry for the [slightly] long ask, I just love this series and all it's lore.
TL;DR - Were Thunderclan shocked or surprised at Goldenflower's very quick claiming of Firepaw?
It was more or less well-known that Goldenflower had been saving ThunderClan's verbal heirloom for her own "someday kits", and she couldn't really tell you herself why she started using it so quickly on Firepaw. Something about him just spoke to her maternally, I guess.
When that little kittypet got that special moniker, the entire Clan knew that Goldenflower was unofficially claiming him. Which was helped by her yelling at Bluestar over leaving him in the forest and then going out to get him herself, a first for her. She may as well have been calling him "son" the entire time.
Reactions were mixed, but mostly positive. Some were happy for Goldenflower finally having a little baby of her very own, others found it hilarious at how quick it happened, and a couple cats (you can probably guess who) were scornful of the best matriarch ThunderClan's ever seen just grabbing some random loser kittypet and declaring him under her protection. I mean, it's a kittypet. And Tigerclaw didn't even think of him as a son. He had a son already! What does that stupid squirt have that I- I mean, that son doesn't?
Most of the Clan knew that Fireheart was her adopted son before he even got his name. It was just made official by him presenting the idea to her.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Have you read A Kindling (Warrior Cats)?
Yes, I am/was in the fandom
Yes, but I’m not in the fandom
No, but I’m in the fandom
No, I’m not in the fandom
Voting ended onNov 9, 2024
Summary: A rewrite of a rewrite of the Warriors Series.
Author: @redux-iterum
Note from submitter: I really love the characterization, relationships, and worldbuilding in this! It simultaneously makes clan life both better and worse for the characters, and aims to make them feel more like cats than cat!shaped humans. Definitely an improvement over the original redux, and I highly recommend reading it
Some memes I made a day or so before I had to post “A Kindling of Sorts”. They will make more sense if you actually know what is going on in AKOS, but enjoy!
Realized the other day that I haven’t done any fanart for @warriorsredux-iterum ! In light of the last couple chapters, I decided to draw Goldenflower and her small orange son, Firepaw (small and orange) whom she sort of adopted the second he set paw into camp for the first time. Love her for that.
No, I don’t know how to do backgrounds, but I think this turned out well all things considered lol. My focus was on Gigantic Mom and Small Son (small and orange), who I’ve grown attached to. At first I didn’t think I’d love Soft Fire as much as Sassy Fire, but the take of him as “ThunderClan’s Sweetheart” is growing on me a LOT.
As it turned out, it didn’t take long for Firepaw to find out Brokenstar’s decision.
Firepaw, Greypaw, and Ravenpaw stood together, front paws in a perfectly uniform line. Their bright young eyes all met the cool steadiness found in their mentors’ as Bluestar spoke.
“This will be your first time hunting without any supervision,” she was saying. “The three of us will not be checking in on you. We don’t expect to see you until dawn, and by then—” here she eyed the apprentices sharply “—you should be coming home with at least two pieces of prey each. Three is preferable, but two will do.”
Ravenpaw straightened up even more, visibly forcing his ears to stay perked and not folded against his head. Greypaw nodded firmly and waved his bushy tail in eagerness.
Firepaw was the one to speak up. “Er… how much is two and three, ma’am?”
Each mentor and apprentice pair matched reactions; Greypaw and Lionface tilted their heads and stared at Firepaw with open confusion, and Whitecloud and Ravenpaw both blinked and glanced at Bluestar.
Bluestar, to her credit, did not react beyond the slightest turn of her right ear. “Two is one more than one, and three is one more than two.”
“Do you not know numbers?” Greypaw asked, baffled. “Those are the easy ones. I thought everyone knew them.”
Firepaw winced, embarrassed now. “Well… I never needed to count before I came here, and it just never came up, I guess.”
“We can help you keep track of the number of prey,” Ravenpaw said before Greypaw could finish opening his mouth to reply.
Firepaw nodded gratefully to him, thanking whoever was there to be thanked that no one in camp seemed to have overheard his question. The looks on Whitecloud’s, Lionface’s, and Greypaw’s faces were bad enough.
Bluestar lifted her chin and cocked her head towards the camp entrance. “Go on, then. Get started.”
Firepaw turned and trotted quickly, his friends lagging a little behind. He led the way through and out without a word.
It had just rained during the afternoon. The forest glittered with droplets on every leaf, blade of grass, and bent frond; petrichor clouded Firepaw’s nose in a rather delightful way; the sky was oddly pale, even at this time, thanks to the light from the Aulmir caught on the trailers of the storm taking their time to head east. Firepaw’s feet were already muddy and wet, but in such a richly fresh wood, it was invigorating—exciting, even—rather than annoying.
His friends, evidently, did not feel the same. When he looked back at them, Greypaw was scowling as he examined a soggy paw and Ravenpaw was treading delicately, trying to find the driest spots to step on.
“Where do you think we should go?” Firepaw asked.
Ravenpaw stepped in a puddle and quickly withdrew his foot. “Well, the prey’s probably looking for a dry place to eat. My guess is that they’ll be in the thickest part of the forest, where the rain got blocked by the canopy. That should be…uh…a little bit north, this way.”
So saying, he took the lead of the little patrol, weaving through the tiny, faint path that the border-markers most often took to get to the road. Firepaw and Greypaw trotted along after him, Greypaw occasionally cursing when Firepaw ducked under a fern and he had to push past it, getting his fur and face wet.
“I never paid attention to which area’s got the most trees,” Firepaw said as they went. “That’s actually really good information to have.”
“You know what else is good information,” Greypaw said cheekily, “is knowing how to count.”
Ravenpaw shot him a look, but Firepaw took it on the chin and twitched his whiskers in amusement. It was better hearing that from a friend than from Darkstripe or Lizardtail.
“How many numbers are there?” he asked.
Ravenpaw slowed a little to let him catch up. “A few. One to four, then maneil, pel, nine, mirin…”
“Sot,” Greypaw piped up.
“Sot, right, sorry. That goes before mirin. Then thlain.”
Firepaw’s head was already muddying up. “Um…and what do those all mean?”
“You don’t know any of them?” Greypaw sped up to walk alongside his friends. “Do kittypets not need to count?”
“I mean, I know one…” Firepaw’s confidence that he had been carefully trying to build up over the time he’d been a member of ThunderClan was leaping at the chance to crumble into the mud.
“Is that it?”
“And… and if something’s more than one…”
“That—” Greypaw shook his head. “Wow.” At the little tom’s increasingly embarrassed face, he hastened to continue. “No, sorry, I’m not saying anything bad about you. I just thought everyone knew their numbers, whether they live in a Clan or not. I guess… I guess your cats didn’t have a reason to know them?” He paused, gauged Firepaw’s expression, and said quickly, “But that’s fine! Clan cats just need them so we can keep track of things, like, like, uh, patrols and reporting strange cats on the border and stuff, and—”
He suddenly gave up and looked pleadingly at Ravenpaw, who sighed almost under his breath.
“There’s nothing wrong with not knowing them,” he said to Firepaw. “It’s just something else for you to learn. We can teach you.”
Firepaw looked up between his friends. Greypaw tilted his head in a silent apology and Ravenpaw gave a little nod of encouragement. He breathed in deeply and exhaled.
“I’d appreciate that. StarClan knows I already look like an idiot to most of the warriors. If they all found out I don’t know what comes after one…”
“I’ll fight them for you,” Greypaw said. “One wrong word and they’ll be missing their ears.”
Ravenpaw nodded. “There’re plenty of cats who won’t judge, anyway. Goldenflower, Tigerclaw, Whitecloud, pampam, Mousefur… Teaselfoot might make a joke, but it’d be friendly.”
“And the ones that do, I’ll fight, so you’re fine," Greypaw added.
“Speckletail’s pretty good with numbers, too, so you can ask her if you forget one and we’re not around.”
“And I can—”
“You’re not fighting her, too!”
“Why not? I can take her…”
Firepaw’s head lifted as his spirits did, but something sickly snaked through the wetness of the forest and softly tapped his nose. His friends’ voices fading away, he squinted and sniffed.
“Do you smell that?” he said aloud.
Ravenpaw and Greypaw halted their argument and tasted the air. Immediately, Ravenpaw ducked.
“ShadowClan?” he whispered.
Greypaw bristled. “And so close, too. They must have invaded again!”
The other toms looked at each other in alarm.
“What do we do?” Ravenpaw asked, still whispering. “We can’t just fight them on our own.”
“Well, we can’t leave them to do whatever they like,” Greypaw whispered back fiercely.
“We can at least scout them out,” Firepaw murmured, keeping his voice steady and soothing to combat the aura of fear. “Just be quiet and come on.”
Half-crouched, he stalked through the forest like he was hunting a wandering mouse. His friends followed after a moment and copied his movement. They went slowly, but the scent seemed to get stronger quickly. Rustling bushes were soon ahead of them and creaky, faint voices whispered to each other. Firepaw glanced back at the other two apprentices and lifted his tail for them to pause and wait. He moved forward alone, carefully going around the bush to catch the intruders off-guard.
As soon as he saw them, he stopped.
It wasn’t some strange rogues or conniving warriors, and they weren’t hunting or strutting about like they owned the place. It was a small group of aged cats, skinnier than Firepaw had ever seen a ShadowClan cat be and with thin, strained necks that accentuated their tired eyes, heavy with knowledge gained from a lifetime of experiences.
Elders? Firepaw stared. Why? I thought elders never left camp.
One of them, a rickety black tom, suddenly looked up and twisted his skeletal head side to side. In a croaky voice that seemed to take great effort to speak with, he called, “Who’s there?”
The fear and wariness left Firepaw immediately. He stood up straight and pawed a fern to make himself known. The elders all jumped and skittered to huddle together until Firepaw said gently, “It’s just me and my friends, don’t worry. Ravenpaw, Greypaw, come out! It’s okay.”
“Oh…” The only molly, patched with pale grey, sagged in relief. “I was so worried we’d run into a warrior first.”
“Can’t be much better, this,” the grey tabby muttered. “Look at that one.”
He flicked his tail, gesturing to Greypaw as he rounded the bush, Ravenpaw in tow. Both apprentices stopped in their tracks and stared, just as confused as Firepaw had been.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Firepaw said quickly. He looked back at his friends. “Go get someone. Let them know there’s elders…?” He looked to the black tom, who nodded. “There’s elders here from ShadowClan.”
“And please—” the black tom hobbled one step forward before flinching and sitting down. “We request sanctuary. We have only kindness to plead for.”
Greypaw and Ravenpaw exchanged glances in silence.
Firepaw flicked a paw. “I’ll stay with them. Hurry, get home. They need help.”
“Good luck,” Greypaw said, and turned, running back south, Ravenpaw on his heels.
Firepaw turned back to the elders, careful to speak calmly and politely. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Firepaw.” He tilted his head. “Can I ask what you’re doing here, please?”
“Ah, thank you, little one,” rasped the black tom who stood no taller than Firepaw. “I’m Nightpelt. This is Ashfur—” he nodded to the grey tabby “—and Palecloud.” Now to the molly. “We are in no haste to cause trouble. We ran from it, in fact.”
“We lost one of our own on the way,” Palecloud said sadly. “She was killed by a car trying to escape Brokenstar.”
“Brokenstar,” Firepaw echoed softly.
“He tried to kill us,” Ashfur growled. “We stood in the way of his authority, and so he wanted us gone.”
Firepaw sighed and nodded sympathetically. “One of you said this was going to happen.”
All three elders looked up, already big eyes wider than it seemed their heads could take.
“She lives?” Palecloud whispered, as if in disbelief. “Murkpelt, you’ve seen her?”
“She’s with us, now,” Firepaw replied, perking up at the relief on their faces. “I’ve actually been taking care of her, since she was hurt and sick when she came to us. She said Brokenstar would go after you all, and her apprentice.”
Nightpelt deflated. “Indeed, Fognose fled home too. His Warden went with him. Even our matriarch had to run. It’s only Blackfoot and Brokenstar now, and his rogues.”
“Nearly ‘only’ them,” Ashfur added angrily. “We heard him tell his cronies to end us. We ran just in time.”
Firepaw stood tall and narrowed his eyes, a flicker of anger in his chest too. “He won’t get you here, I can promise you that. Here, please, rest until the patrol comes. Are you hungry?”
Ashfur opened his mouth, but Nightpelt cut him off. “We needn’t take your food until it is invited upon us, little one. Thank you, though, for your kindness.”
“But you must be hungry, right?”
“Ah, always,” Palecloud sighed.
Firepaw’s heart stung. “It really isn’t any trouble, I can—”
“Firepaw!”
He turned to see Greypaw running up through the brush, eyes wide and very worried. “Lionface has a border patrol. They’re coming this way, but he looks mad…”
Firepaw didn’t get a chance to respond before rustling further back announced the patrol. Greypaw jumped out of the way as Lionface pushed through the undergrowth, followed by Mousefur, Lizardtail, and Brindleface. All of them looked irritated, but Lionface’s face was hard and his muzzle wrinkled with annoyance.
“Another stray of yours, Firepaw?” he growled.
A flicker of the memory of Lionface’s encounter with the hag danced behind Firepaw’s eyes. He said nothing.
“I’m getting tired of this,” Lizardtail groaned. “How many rogues do you have to try and bring in?”
Lionface stopped when he was in full sight of the elders. He stood tall and lashed his tail once. “You all are intruding in ThunderClan territory.”
“We need help—” Nightpelt started.
“And you can find that help elsewhere,” Lionface snapped. “We’ve had enough of your Clan coming into our forest whenever they like. Now, come with me, and come quietly. I’ll take you to the border.”
Firepaw braced himself as Lionface started for the elders. He can't do this. Not while I'm here.
Before Lionface had taken a couple steps, Firepaw stood in his path, facing him, blocking his way to the elders.
Lionface stopped, blinking in confusion before quickly recovering. He towered over the much smaller apprentice.
“Firepaw,” he said, “move.”
Firepaw met his eyes. “No.”
The air immediately shifted. Firepaw saw Mousefur stare at him with an open mouth out of the corner of his eye.
Lionface’s muzzle wrinkled with a flash of teeth. “Firepaw, I said—” One step forward with a flex of his claws. “Move.”
Firepaw’s voice stayed calm and gentle. “No.”
Lizardtail’s eyes were wide enough to see a white ring around them. Greypaw fidgeted, fur fluffed in fear.
Lionface loomed over Firepaw, back bristling. “Move or I make you move. That is an order.”
The ginger tom breathed in slowly. He tilted his head a little, staring up at the lionlike tom directly into his verdant green eyes.
“I guess you’ll have to make me,” he said.
Lionface’s head reared back, half-formed words spat out. Firepaw could hear a wheeze behind him from Nightpelt. He didn’t look back; he faced his superior, steadfast and quiet.
Your move, sir, Firepaw thought. Shove me aside and look like a brute or back down to an apprentice in front of everyone. I’m getting punished either way.
The two stood in silence, the golden tom stiffly lashing his tail side-to-side. His mouth twitched beneath his wrinkled nose, words dying as they met his tongue. His claws dug into the ground, his ears pinned back and his fur flattened. Firepaw didn’t blink, his eyes beginning to burn as he waited for his superior’s next move.
Finally, Lionface looked down at Firepaw’s feet. He took a step back. Brindleface quietly gasped.
“Bluestar will punish you severely,” he growled between his teeth. “Your friends here—”
“Please…” Nightpelt limped up to Firepaw’s side. “Don’t be angry with him. We’re elders from ShadowClan. We have nowhere else to go.”
“You have the Aulmir—” Lizardtail started, but Lionface lifted his tail for silence.
“They fled from Brokenstar,” Firepaw said to Lizardtail. “If they go to the Aulmir, the rogues working for him will find them.”
“The Houses, then.”
“They can’t make that trip without coming through our territory, if they want to do it safely.” Firepaw looked up at Lionface. “And anyway, I thought warriors took care of elders.”
Lionface had a spark in his eye like Firepaw had just drawn blood with a blow. He half-expected an actual strike against his own ear.
Brindleface took a couple steps forward and spoke hesitantly. “He does have a point. We shouldn’t just send away elders who need help.”
Lizardtail threw a suspicious look at Nightpelt. “What if it’s a trap? What if they’re supposed to be spies, or Brokenstar is waiting to launch an attack right now?”
“Lizardtail, I don’t mean to be rude, but you sound really stupid,” said Mousefur. “One, we’d smell the other cats. Two, they’re elders who are very obviously starving—look how skinny they are.”
“ShadowClan cats are always skinny—”
“That skinny? Come on.”
“We— if I may—” Palecloud cleared her throat. “We’ve been going without for quite a while. Brokenstar makes us hunt for ourselves.”
Lizardtail squinted, anger forgotten. “…Elders?”
“And queens, and apprentices,” Ashfur said. “Many who struggle by themselves, or who do not know what to do.”
“We’ve lost a lot of chriil from hunting alone,” Palecloud added quietly.
Nightpelt’s eyes were wet with grief. “Ah, and our kittens. We cannot feed the queens. They must hunt alone, and their children go hungry. The young and old alike, we all are dying.”
“And another elder died trying to escape,” Firepaw said, soft and sad. His throat tightened, thinking about this elder, so close to freedom, only to have it suddenly and brutally snatched away from her.
Mousefur’s eyelids lowered a little as she regarded the elders. She looked at Brindleface, sharing a nod, before saying to Lionface, “Let them come to camp. At least for a bit.”
“They could use the help,” Brindleface added. “And the code…”
Lizardtail’s eyes went between the different elders contemplatively. He took in a breath and sighed. “Sadly, I agree with the kittypet. The code says we take care of our elders. Doesn’t really matter what Clan they’re from, does it?”
Hardly heard beyond himself, Lionface gave a low growl. He looked from his patrol, to Firepaw, to the elders. Greypaw flinched when Lionface looked his way, and that seemed to do something. Lionface visibly forced himself to relax and regain his composure. He looked down at the tiny elders and sighed through his nose.
“Come with us,” he said. “We’ll take you to our camp.”
Palecloud and Ashfur sagged, the tension leaving their bodies. They moved forward, whispering thanks and blessings to Lionface and his patrol. Brindleface came to stand beside Palecloud, murmuring, “Here, this way…” and Mousefur joined with Ashfur, watching him with concern.
“You’re still going to be punished for your behavior,” Lionface said to Firepaw.
Firepaw met his eyes again. “That’s fine. This is Nightpelt, by the way. The other two are Ashfur and Palecloud.”
“A blessing to meet you both,” Nightpelt said, looking at Firepaw.
Lionface said nothing more. He turned around and stalked back the way he’d come, tail swishing back and forth. Greypaw stared at Firepaw with awe before following after his mentor.
“You can lean on me if you want to,” Firepaw offered to Nightpelt.
“You’re kind,” Nightpelt rasped, limping alongside the apprentice. “Blessed with the heart of Horoa, you are.”
Firepaw said nothing, but a familiar blazing warmth swept through his body, starting from his chest.
