Apr 20
Been really into mewgenics lately! Wanted to draw one of my sonas in the style, I imagine he gets more vampiric with each phase. Blood warning for the images under the cut
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from China
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Kyrgyzstan
seen from Singapore
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Belgium
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
Been really into mewgenics lately! Wanted to draw one of my sonas in the style, I imagine he gets more vampiric with each phase. Blood warning for the images under the cut
Starting Allegiances
Head Warrior
Crestedstar - a speckled dark ginger tom
Deputy Head Warrior
Lakefur - a pale gray tom
Cleric
Beaverglint - an unusually dappled black molly with a lighter underside
Warriors
Darkpelt - a long-furred masked golden brown tabby molly
Frostreed - an unusually spotted pale gray molly
Shadeswoop - a long-furred dark ginger tabby tom with white splotches
apprentice: Slumberpaw
Apprentices
Slumberpaw - a dorsal-striped pale gray tom
Kits
Sunkit - a golden tabby tom
Bluekit - a dorsal-striped black tom with a white belly, chin, and paws
clangen keeps delivering me morally reprehensible lesbians
Arc Four: Chapter Four
(AO3 counterpart here.)
It was a lucky thing the Runagate was used to running all over the Territory in a single day. The wind was astir, and cats were on the move.
It was starting in the north – groups of well-muscled cats were spreading out from the leaders’ home and small, fleet messengers and scouts raced ahead of them, darting around like dragonflies over a pond, skidding to a halt in front of traveling cats or nesting families and informing them with wide, intense eyes about this dangerous group of rebels that no one could find or predict.
A fine way to spread panic, the Runagate thought, then, more cynically, not that it will help.
Indeed, a lifetime of easy hunting and dozing days had lulled most of these cats into hardly having the energy to look doubtfully at each other before politely thanking the reporter for the news and sending them away so naptime could resume. The Fleet were taking their jobs seriously; the “civilians”, as they always referred to the rest of the Clan, were not.
Still, the Runagate knew this calm before the storm. Certainly not on this scale, but they’d seen it before. Now was not the time to sit around, confident that things would be fine.
Not that it ever was.
The brothers would have to go without seeing their mother. Four patrollers had been stationed around her, and all of them looked ready for a fight. Even that big white fellow would struggle against them, and the rest of his friends weren’t exactly soldiers (though perhaps Redheart could take a swing or two). The resting ground for the Vultures and this Nettlecloud were out of the way anyway, but the Runagate had a feeling that wouldn’t have been an issue for the dying molly’s sons.
The thing they would consider an issue was the search party still following them. They were marching at a steady pace, one that cats of the Fleet would be able to keep up even over a week. It was, after all, their duty to travel.
The Runagate checked in on them much more regularly than they had ever done for anyone else. Redheart’s eagerness had rubbed off on them, and now they didn’t just want to run away or warn. They wanted to be active. They wanted to contribute and really observe the world around them. They were awake.
It was a rather nice feeling, really.
And so they watched, and followed, and popped back in to the renegades on the evening after their talk with Redheart. Everyone was awake this time. They really had no choice but to make themselves seen.
The dark grey one noticed them first. Her ear twitched at the whispers of the Runagate’s movement through the grass. When she looked around, she said aloud, “Is someone here?”
The rest of the group raised their heads as well, now alert. All of them stood up, even the blind one, who hardly seemed bothered on a bad day. Redheart and Greyleaf sniffed the air and perked up.
“It’s alright,” Redheart said to the others. “This is a friend.” She could not see the shade, but she seemed to know where they were anyway, looking in their direction. “Come on out. You’re safe here.”
A moment’s hesitation, developed from generations of frightening others with their appearance… and then, for once, finally, the Runagate stepped into the open.
Their reception was not unanimous – the dark grey one, the white fellow and his little brown friend all bristled and made various noises of alarm. Redheart, Greyleaf and the brother were hardly ruffled, just nodded a greeting. The blind molly sniffed the air and her ears slid back, tail slowly winding back and forth like a snake as her eyes narrowed in concentration.
The apprentice was the interesting one. She gasped and almost leaned back where she stood, eyes wide in shock. “It’s you!”
Your mind is awakened, I sense. The Runagate lowered their head a little in a half-nod. Perhaps I’ve hurt you that way. I’m sorry.
“I’m not hearing anything,” the blind one said slowly, “but I am hearing something all the same. Is this…?”
“The Runagate.” Greyleaf swept out with a paw in a slightly sardonic gesture of beholding. “Meet the catalyst for all of this, everyone.”
The white and dark grey cats relaxed a little, though their eyes were wary. The brown one’s back hair still bristled and his mouth was shut tight.
“S’alright, Beetlefoot,” the brother said patiently. “We got us an ally here.”
“We do.” Redheart looked to the Runagate, standing tall, all business again. “You’ve got news, I assume?”
Indeed. The Runagate took a moment to feel half a flicker of amusement at the slight shivers of the white cat as they spoke, then continued. It would seem the entirety of the Fleet is after you. News is spreading south that you’re all wanted. If you’re to head north, it'd be wise to go as quickly as possible. Perhaps not through the valley, though. They turned their gaze to the brothers. And I could not get close to your mother to see exactly how she’s doing. There’s a patrol there who I would say are looking to arrest you if you go near her.
The brother and Greyleaf sighed in unison, a shaky, unhappy pair of sighs. The wary and hostile cats simmered down into sympathy and shared worried expressions with each other.
I assume you know there’s a patrol after you, the Runagate continued, and went on after a round of nods. They’re moving a little faster than you all are. You’re hidden in the grass, but your scent is fresh, and they’re closing in. I would pick up the pace. Or perhaps go somewhere they cannot follow.
A moment of silence before the apprentice turned her head to gaze at the mountain they had been trekking towards. “Is there any way we can lose them up there? It’s steeper than the hills, it looks like…”
“The mountain?” the blind one asked.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, that’s perfect.” She smiled and lifted her tail high. “It’s steep and it’s full of tunnels. Very easy to traverse if you know your pathway.”
“Which none of us do,” the brother said.
“I do, my boy,” the blind one said with a bit of a teasingly condescending tone. “I’ve been all over that half of the mountain. I can get us through that part easy.” She paused, then hummed. “The problem would be when we hit the Brae’s forest. They won’t take a shining to us intruding on their land.”
“I can guide us then,” the brown one said suddenly.
Everyone looked at him with great surprise. His eyes were now on the ground, but he still stood stiff and tall (about as tall as he could get, at least).
“That’ll be useful,” the blind molly remarked after the silence had gone on long enough. “Then we have our path set.”
“Once we’re on the mountain, we’ll be able to see the cats after us better, I think.” The white one now looked nervously to the Runagate. “How… how close are they now?”
They’d catch you within half a day, were you to stay still.
“Then we better not waste time.” Redheart’s eyes went round to each cat. “Are you all willing to walk a little more into the night? The sooner we reach the mountain, the sooner we can stop for longer, if we are indeed hidden.”
“We will be.” The blind cat nodded. “I can promise you that.”
“I say we move, then.” The brother looked to Greyleaf, then to the others, who all voiced their agreement. To Redheart, he said, “Best go now.”
“Right.” Redheart turned her tired-but-awake eyes to the Runagate. “You’re free to do as you like, but we’d appreciate if you could keep an eye on those chasing us. Or if you see anything we should know about.”
Happy to help. The Runagate bowed their head – then, just to be a little cheeky, they took a step back and vanished into the dark, allowing themselves a little smile when the grey molly swore in shock.
---
No time was wasted. The second the Runagate was gone, Redheart and Darkpelt took the lead, keeping the group going at a brisk trot even into the night. The grass shrank and softened under their feet, then gradually vanished as the ground steeped upwards so suddenly that one could trip and fall if they weren't paying attention. The soil reddened and turned airy, until dust kicked up with even the most gentle of steps.
“No wonder the Versant cats all smell like dust,” Flyfang grumbled, nose wrinkled as she failed to fight off a sneeze.
“Is it as bad as smelling like mud and fish?” Darkpelt asked cheerily, head almost upside down over her back. “We all gotta smell like where we live, you know.”
“Keep your voices down,” Beetlefoot hissed. “Someone might be around.”
“Not at this time of night.” Darkpelt waved her tail, dismissing his worries. “Versant just relaxes at home when it gets dark. And there should be some hollows close ahead we can stop in for the night.”
Beetlefoot didn’t respond, but Flyfang could see he wasn’t satisfied with that. She tapped his side with her tail, not sure if she was jokingly prodding him or trying to reassure him that it was fine. Either way, he stiffened in his paces, so she withdrew and kept trotting alongside Littlepaw.
“How are you doing?” she asked her apprentice (her apprentice!) in an undertone.
“Tired,” Littlepaw whispered back. “But I can keep going, I promise.”
“Good thing we don’t have far to go.” Flyfang eyed Darkpelt’s strutting form, which almost blended into the shadows. “At least, she thinks so.”
Darkpelt made a sound that was vaguely amused. “I know so, my friend. Here, actually- the ground just hardened. We’re a hop away.”
“Um…” Laurelclaw craned his neck forward, peering at the bumpy red dust and rocks they were scaling, pine trees jutting up in their way. “I know it’s dark, but I don’t see anything like a den up ahead.”
“That’s the point!” Darkpelt hopped up onto a cropped-out stone without slowing down. “Everyone follow me.”
One by one, the cats jumped after her, going in a single-file line. Being cats, they had fine balance, but those that had lived in the flatlands, such as the brothers and Flyfang herself, couldn’t escape wobbling a bit on the narrowing paths that were littered with oversized pebbles. Flyfang hardly had a chance to complain before Darkpelt turned left immediately after a pine tree and vanished. Redheart, immediately after her, disappeared as well with a noise of surprise – then Greyleaf, then Mistface, then Littlepaw, and then Flyfang, with Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot behind her.
Behind the pine was a hollowed out den that seemed to stretch on forever into the earth. The ceiling and walls were crossed unevenly with zig-zagging tree roots holding the soil in place. It was cool and dry, and when Flyfang looked back outside, she had a perfect view of the valley they had just left. It was too far away to see whoever was following them, but then again, those cats couldn’t see the den either, so perhaps it didn't matter.
“Wow…” Laurelclaw had to crouch a little and duck his head to fit through the entrance, but he was able to straighten up as the den widened out. “This is perfect. Why isn’t anyone here?”
“There’re dens and tunnels all over here,” Darkpelt said. “Enough to house half the Clan. It’s called ‘the Rootlands’ by natives. The pines made the ground stable enough to be dug up wherever one pleases.”
Mistface tilted his head. “You travel here a lot to know all this?”
“I was born here, actually.” Darkpelt gave a self-satisfied nod. “Let me tell you what, nothing gets you prepped for walking blind like living on a slope like this.”
“That explains a lot about you,” Beetlefoot muttered.
Darkpelt laughed and gestured with her paw in a sweeping motion. “Settle down, everyone. We’ll have to go without hunting for tonight – there’s nothing around here.”
“That sucks.” Greyleaf stretched one side of his mouth back in a half-grimace. “Well, I can wait.”
“I can too.” Flyfang pawed at a spot ahead of her and sat down on it, a little put off by how stiff the ground was. “We’ll hunt as soon as we can.”
Various murmurs of unhappy resignation echoed in the den. Everyone gradually found a place to rest, settled down and fell into silence. Littlepaw rested against Flyfang, paws tucked tightly under her body and eyes unfocused.
Flyfang gently nosed her shoulder. “What’s on your mind, kiddo?”
Littlepaw didn’t answer at first. When she did, her voice was so quiet the den didn’t carry it around the walls. “Just thinking about…” She shuffled. “Everything. All these lies we get told.” She frowned. “Or maybe they weren’t lies. But I don’t know, and it bothers me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, StarClan’s a lie, and we all believed it, right?” Littlepaw looked up at her mentor, eyes glimmering with distress. “But then the Runagate’s real, but they’re good. And I got thinking while we walked – if the aspects were real, wouldn’t they have stopped this monster for us? Aileron’s whole thing is fighting off evil beings. Why couldn’t she do anything?”
No one spoke, but Flyfang could see they were all listening.
“And the rest of the stories!” Littlepaw’s curly-furred tail puffed out. “All these spirits and ghosts and beasts, I don’t even know if they’re real. Does anyone? Were they ever real? Were they just fables to scare kits? Are any of the predators the patrollers talk about… do they even exist? What’s real and what isn’t? How can we tell?”
Silence. Littlepaw stared into Flyfang’s eyes desperately, like she had the answers. She took in a soft breath and let it out slowly.
“Well,” she said quietly, “I suppose the only way we’re going to find out is when we take out the biggest factor in the equation. Whatever it’s created, maybe that’ll go away with it.”
“We can’t assume much on the part of the aspects, anyway,” Redheart said, voice between firm and soothing. “It’s possible that StarClan is too strong even for them.”
“And if they’re just a story too?” Littlepaw’s voice hitched and she looked at the deputy now, ears pinned back.
“We’ll cross that trail when we get to it.” Redheart’s usually weary and hard face was soft and a little melancholy. “Right now, I wouldn’t worry about it. We have much bigger prey to catch. Whatever comes next will come next.”
“Can’t promise nothin’,” Mistface said on the tail-end of a yawn. “But if it helps, lil’un, I’d like to think them bein’ part of our tales and communities makes them real enough. They’ve been inspirin’ and entertainin’ all this time, drivin’ cats to be better or happier with the world around them. Ain’t that more important than if they’re actually causin’ the rain and snow?”
There was no answer again, but the air in the den warmed and relaxed. Laurelclaw sighed like he had been holding his breath. Greyleaf nodded approvingly to his brother. Flyfang felt Littlepaw lose the tension in her body, and her tail-fur smoothed out again.
“That does help,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
Mistface’s lazy smile on his face seemed more genuine than it usually was. “Our deputy here’s right, anyway. No purpose in worryin’ now. Let’s focus on what we got right in front of us.” His eyes slid over to Greyleaf. “Not that it’s much more soothin’ of a topic.”
Greyleaf huffed a chuckle. “It’ll just be a bad dream soon enough.”
Flyfang looked down at Littlepaw as she shifted to lean against her mentor, eyes shutting. Flyfang helped her along with a purr, and soon Littlepaw’s breaths slowed. Everyone else fell asleep soon after her, but Flyfang was awake for just a bit longer. She studied their faces, how some twitched their lips or ears, how Greyleaf and Redheart’s expressions were tight and troubled. Were they seeing it still?
Flyfang gradually lowered her chin onto her paws, staring ahead at nothing. She didn’t want to admit that Littlepaw’s worries were gently digging their dirty little talons into the back of her head as well.
It was a good question she asked: If StarClan wasn’t real… was anything?
Sketches of ocs and a Hollyleaf
“dark” says “not-black” to me
Arc Four: Chapter One
(AO3 counterpart here.)
Mistface had never been so eager to do anything in his life as he was now. By the look of it, the same could be said for everyone else.
Even Beetlefoot was relatively cheery. He had been the first to suggest the route the group would take: to avoid potential arresters, they would travel east towards the marshlands and make a wide berth around the valley, climbing along the mountainside and emerging north on the land by the path the Plage took in their travels to the coast. The idea was warmly received, brightening Beetlefoot’s dour face up and, if Mistface wasn’t mistaken, adding a bit of a strut to his usual choppy trot.
Greyleaf and Flyfang were at the lead – they knew this section of the Territory the best (Mistface declining any authority) and, working together, could navigate the streams and patches of land in the south quickly enough that the party could get a sizable lead before anyone would find out where they were going.
“I’m surprised we lived so close to each other and never met,” Mistface remarked, several paces behind the two.
“Well, you know how reclusive the Marish are,” Flyfang said over her shoulder. “It would've been a miracle if you even caught a glance of me from a distance.”
“Then there’s more land back there than I thought.” Mistface’s front foot kicked aimlessly at an acorn shell. “We heard tell there was a lake no one would pass around.”
“There is,” Flyfang said. “It’s just further south. And no, none of us have gone past it. I don’t think there’s much there to explore, honestly. Just a long stretch of flat grassland-“ She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Well, you can see a mountain range in the distance, but it’s so far off, why bother?”
“S’pose that’s fair,” Mistface replied. He kept his second thought to himself: if this quest failed, the Clan may need to discover what that mountain range was like.
Chatter fluttered back and forth around the party, mostly anecdotes about the marshes and how life was living in the south part of the Territory. Mistface hardly paid any attention to it; he just padded along, grateful for the sunlight when they stepped out of the border of the oak forest and into grassland again.
“Hang on.” Darkpelt suddenly stopped. “Everyone, noses in the air.”
The rest of the cats looked at each other, puzzled, but did as she said.
“I don’t smell anything,” Laurelclaw said.
“Then look around.” Darkpelt’s ears slid back. “I don’t think we’re alone anymore.”
“I'll check,” Littlepaw said, and hurried off around a bend of oaks before anyone could say otherwise. She was back in a few moments, tail bushy in alarm.
“There’s a group of cats entering the forest,” she hissed. “I just barely saw them go through the trees. They’re all big.”
“Then we need to move,” Redheart said. “Flyfang, can we head south more? Will the marsh hide us?”
Flyfang looked at Greyleaf like he had an answer. “I mean- yeah, the grass is tall, and the smell’s thick, but… that’s Marish land.”
“Would there be anyone out hunting around this time?” Redheart persisted. “Do we have a chance of getting through unseen?”
Flyfang squinted in thought, then turned to Redheart. “The part we’d go through is usually poor pickings in the morning. But we have to be quick.”
“Let’s not waste time, then.” Redheart gave everyone a curt nod and started off at a loping jog, Flyfang and Greyleaf at her side. The party went after them at just slow enough of a pace that Darkpelt could keep up with no guidance, but fast enough to outrun the trackers.
The grass met them quickly, swallowing them all in narrow green walls. They went single file now, Mistface at the rear behind Darkpelt. He glanced back at the forest, half-expecting their scents to be caught instantly and for the Fleet cats to be upon them.
“I’ll tell you what,” Darkpelt said, “it’d be nice if one of you southern belles would show me how to walk without getting hit in the face by these stalks.”
“Ain’t nothin’ to do,” Mistface said. “You just get used to it.”
Darkpelt harrumphed, but kept trotting.
The grass darkened and turned coarse in a minute or two, and the wind grew stronger the farther they went south. Eventually, Mistface’s head broke free through the surface of the grass and he could see the troop up ahead of him – just in time, because he almost walked off of a small ledge and fell into water. He jumped before he could, and landed on a patch of ground. Darkpelt, by the looks of it, had almost fallen in herself, and, unusually, her tail was twitching. Perhaps the grass had gotten to her.
“Let’s be quick,” Flyfang said, leaping past another stream. “The scent here can protect us, but the Marish-“
“Um…” Laurelclaw raised a white paw. “Flyfang? Over there.”
Everyone stopped and looked to the right, where Laurelclaw was pointing his paw now. As if to spite them, there was a patrol of cats heading their way. At the front was a grey-brown-and-white older molly, eyes narrowed and face set in a scowl. Behind her were other bristling patched cats, and two dark-colored apprentices. Mistface glanced at Flyfang and blinked; she was frozen where she stood.
“Flyfang!” cried one of the apprentices, a spitting image of the dark grey warrior. She ran forward, followed by the black one, but the head of the patrol almost flung her away with a back foot.
“Your nerve is impressive,” she said in a voice like she was trying to be stoic and was having a hard time of it. “Especially bringing strangers.”
The renegades bunched together without a word. Laurelclaw stood beside Flyfang, almost as stiff as she was.
“You’re okay!” the black apprentice exclaimed, delight in her voice. “They said you were going to die!”
She might just, soon enough, thought Mistface, but he said nothing. He could gather that these were Flyfang’s sisters, which meant it wasn’t his time to talk.
Flyfang swallowed hard and took an unsteady step forward. “Hi, girls.”
Again, the apprentices tried to push past the adults, but were forced back. The four other cats spread out a little in a wall to block them, tails lashing.
“Risking our safety for nothing,” the molly growled. “We searched for you when you ran away, and we gave you up for dead.”
“And you might as well be,” a ginger-patched tom said angrily. “How dare you come back! With outsiders, no less!”
This woke Flyfang up. She bristled and sank her claws into the soft ground. “Let me see them, Minnownose.”
The molly narrowed her eyes and took a step closer, voice steely. “You lost all rights to visiting when you betrayed us. Get out.”
“I’m planning to,” Flyfang snapped. “But I’m not going without talking to my sisters. I might not get the chance again.”
“You certainly won’t.” Minnownose stood straight and glared down her nose at Flyfang. “We know you’re coming back for them soon, and we’ll be very prepared to make you regret that decision. You don’t have any control over them, remember-“
Laurelclaw suddenly strode forward and shouldered Minnownose so hard that she stumbled sideways and fell with a grunt of shock. The ginger-patched tom growled and started to approach his deputy, but Laurelclaw turned his head and glared down at him with a fierceness Mistface had not seen before. The tom flinched away, and the other family members stepped back.
That made things very clear for the Marish – they all fell silent and cowed, the apprentices’ way open. Laurelclaw looked at Flyfang and jerked his head in the direction of her sisters. As stunned as the rest of the renegades, Flyfang hesitated on her first few steps, giving Laurelclaw a look of awe. By the shine in her sisters’ eyes as they went to meet her, they were equally impressed.
“Gnatpaw and Mosquitopaw,” Flyfang murmured, pressing her muzzle to one head, and then the other. “You’re getting big already. You were supposed to wait, you brats.”
The dark grey one (likely Gnatpaw) rubbed her head on Flyfang’s shoulder. “We tried to, I swear.”
“You got us the best mentors,” the black one said, almost pushing Flyfang by rubbing against her. “They’re nice to us. Minnownose isn’t, though.”
“If I make it back,” Flyfang said, “I’ll rectify that.”
Gnatpaw tilted her head. “Where are you going? Aren’t you here for us?”
“Don’t leave again!” Mosquitopaw almost wailed. “You just came home!”
Flyfang looked back at her friends. Mistface’s eyes drifted downwards, unwilling to tell the twins anything.
“I can’t explain to you what I’m doing right now,” she said softly to her sisters. “It's just too dangerous to bring you with me today. But I’m going to do everything in my power to come get you. I promise."
The apprentices looked at each other despairingly.
“Minnownose isn’t going to stop me.” Flyfang coldly glared at the older molly, who had gotten up and backed away from Laurelclaw. “Nothing is, if I can help it. Right now, though… I’m doing something very important.”
“Life-changing, really,” Darkpelt said. “You’ll know if we succeeded.”
Gnatpaw seemed to finally notice the rest of the travelers. She squinted at them suspiciously. “You’re taking another apprentice, wherever you’re going.”
Littlepaw waved her tail nervously. “I’m… I’m your sister’s apprentice, actually.”
Mosquitopaw gasped and looked at her sister with (hopefully fake) outrage. “You better not have replaced us!”
“No one’s replacing you.” Flyfang gently touched her nose to Mosquitopaw’s head. “If I make it through this, you’ll be out of here in no time. I promise.”
“Make it through what?” Minnownose asked testily.
Flyfang didn’t acknowledge her. She just touched her nose to Gnatpaw’s head now. “You’ll understand in time. I’ll tell you all about it when I come back for you.”
Mistface caught Redheart’s eye and the two shared a knowing, glum look. They didn’t know or like the chances of returning for these two.
The apprentices were still unhappy, but they seemed to understand. Both of them leaned forward to bump their heads against their sister's shoulders. Flyfang’s chin lowered right between their ears and she sighed.
“I love you two,” she murmured. “Be the worst Marish you can be.”
“We will,” Mosquitopaw said.
“Even worse than you,” Gnatpaw added.
Flyfang lingered for a moment, then slowly stepped back. Her jaw was set as she turned around and trudged back to the rest of her crew, tail low. Laurelclaw nodded to the apprentices and followed her.
“Let’s move,” Redheart said quietly.
Flyfang said nothing, just returned to the front of the group with Greyleaf and led them away from the Marish patrol, who all watched them go. No one in either group spoke a word.
When they were far enough that the Marish were only dots of color, Mistface looked up at Laurelclaw.
“I will be tanned,” he said. “Didn’t think you had it in you to be a brute.”
Laurelclaw glanced back, worried. “I didn’t mean to push her over that hard. I hope I didn’t scare them too badly-“
Flyfang threw her head back and laughed so loud that the cats close to her jumped. “You totally did! Don’t be sorry for it! That was awesome!”
“I cannot believe I didn’t get to witness that with my own eyes,” Darkpelt said. “All I heard was that broad start up with nonsense and then fall over. What I’d pay to see it myself!”
Laurelclaw laughed bashfully. “I mean, you should get to talk to your sisters, if we’re doing this. It’s only fair.”
“I owe you big time for that,” Flyfang said, tapping him with her tail. “And if we make it, I’m definitely getting them out of there.”
“We’ll be here to help you,” Redheart said. “I will, at least.”
A ripple of confirmations and support went through the group of eight. Flyfang looked back at them with a broad smile and glimmering eyes.
“Thanks, guys,” she said.
Arc Three: Chapter Thirteen
(AO3 counterpart here.)
The five witnesses glanced at each other, unsure. Darkpelt, Redheart and Mistface stood together, with Darkpelt taking the lead. Her tail danced about merrily and her ears were perked. It looked a little like she had spotted particularly fat prey and was preparing to catch it.
“So,” she said, “this whole StarClan thing, right? Real puzzle, isn’t it?”
Mistface gave her a very dry look (though he wasn’t bothering to hide his smile). Redheart’s eyes rolled skyward for just a heartbeat.
“Seems a difficult thing,” Darkpelt went on. “We’ll have to consider our options carefully when we approach this topic.”
“What options?” Beetlefoot said. “All we can do is run.”
“Incorrect!” Darkpelt’s grin broadened. “As you all may have guessed, I’ve been doing some real hard thinking on this particular topic, and just now broached my newest theory to our deputy and…” She turned towards Mistface. “I’m trying to find a nice way to call you ‘smarter than your assumed looks would imply’.”
“Get to the point, Darkpelt,” Mistface said. “Now ain’t the time for jokes.”
“That is true, at least.” Darkpelt shook her head in self-admonishment and returned her attention to her audience. “Anyway, my theory posits as such: the false StarClan eats souls, as we all know. This would imply it needs a way to sustain itself. Which-“ She leaned a little forward. “-implies further that it is, in some form, alive. And if it’s alive, it can be killed.”
Greyleaf stared at her. For perhaps the first time since meeting Redheart in the waking world, his heart leapt with a sudden excitement. His mind immediately was working furiously away at this idea, many thoughts shouting over each other with plans and what information he’d collected over the years.
"You think that's possible?" Flyfang's eyes were wide.
"I'm quite certain it is," Darkpelt said. "Anything can die. What makes this so different?"
“I-“ Laurelclaw shuffled his feet, halfway between nervous and eager. “Well, I would like to think so, but how does something like that die?"
“That’s the puzzle part,” Darkpelt said. “It’s not going to die like a cat. It’s not built like us. It relies on souls and belief to get anything done.”
Littlepaw’s ears perked. “Belief?”
“Belief,” Darkpelt repeated. “That’s the key. It’s a mental game. This thing’s power is all in the mind.”
A realization hit Greyleaf in a full-force tackle. He stood up, tail straight out and bushy. “It’s a psychic monster. It relies on your thoughts and beliefs to be effective.”
“Therefore-“ Darkpelt almost wiggled in excitement. “Therefore, if there’s a way to take it on, it’ll be all in our heads.”
“Take it on?” Beetlefoot repeated, looking bewildered.
“We don’t need to flee from it.” Darkpelt’s paws kneaded at the ground. “We need to figure out how to attack it within itself – within our minds, in our sleep, perhaps.”
Greyleaf couldn’t help a rush of adrenaline in his blood himself that made him want to jump up and down. “It can take a dead soul and it can lie to us, but that’s all it can do. There’s a weakness somewhere that we can find just in a dream.”
“Yes!” Darkpelt nodded fervently at him. “Precisely!”
Mistface spoke now. “Thing is that we ain’t seers, and even seers don’t got the power to force StarClan to meet them wherever or whenever they like. So we gotta march up to its den and make it acknowledge us.” He looked at Redheart. “Which is how we’ve made a new plan.”
“The plan so far – young as it is – is this.” Redheart’s voice was level, but there was an intensity behind it that belied her excitement. “We want to head north and get to the Lighthouse. That place is the most direct link to StarClan – it will have to respond to us there. Once there, if everyone who comes with us dreams at once, we stand much more of a chance of defeating it through what means are possible.”
Darkpelt flicked a paw in Mistface’s general direction. “Your theory so far, my lad?”
Mistface, of the three, was the only one talking like he was conversing the weather. He tilted his head, eyes contemplative. “Just a theory, mind, but Redheart explained to me a little of what this thing is like. Nightmarish.” He looked almost sadly at Greyleaf. “Can’t even imagine it in my head without a little panic.”
Greyleaf offered a weak smile in return.
Mistface breathed in slowly and continued. “But what I gathered is that this thing’s just as much land as it is a monster. It shows seers landscapes same as it does ghosts. That can’t all be simple illusions – it ain’t that original. My guess is that, if we are to destroy it, we gotta approach it like we’re destroying a forest or a field.”
“How do we do that?” Flyfang asked. She was halfway to eagerness, but she still sounded hesitant. “We can’t just claw it to death.”
Mistface smiled lazily at her. “We’ll just have to get creative, won’t we?”
“That ‘we’, by the way,” Darkpelt added, “refers to whoever wants to come with us. I’m putting my paw in on this plan, and so are Redheart and Mistface. You all are free to leave, and maybe you should. I won’t lie and say we’re guaranteed to stay sane and in good health on this quest, but-“
“I’m in,” Greyleaf said.
Mistface beamed.
“Don’t know why I even pretended to ask you.” Darkpelt’s laugh was like her elation had filled her and had nowhere to go but forcibly out. “That’s four. Warriors, your thoughts?”
“Think carefully,” Redheart said. “You’ll be traveling with me and Greyleaf, and we’re both wanted. Even besides StarClan and whatever risks we face with it, you could be arrested for assisting us and trying to escape the Territory.”
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Flyfang said. “I’m coming with. As if there’s another option.”
Laurelclaw nodded at Flyfang. “Same for me. You- you might need a little muscle anyway, if someone tries to stop us.”
“Look at you actually offering to fight,” Beetlefoot said wryly. “We’ll probably need it.”
“Then you’re with us?” Mistface asked him.
Beetlefoot nodded as well - curtly, but with a spark in his eyes. “Any way I can help, I will. This is too important to decline.”
Littlepaw jumped to her feet. “I’m coming too!”
Every adult looked her way. Greyleaf could see on their faces that they’d all completely forgotten the apprentice. He had too, to be fair, but it was still a little funny.
Redheart frowned a little, tone careful. “Littlepaw, I can honor your enthusiasm, but I don’t think we can keep you with us from this point on. It’s been dangerous enough for you just in these past couple of days. The leaders will be looking for us-“
Littlepaw shook her head violently. “Let them. I’m not quitting here.”
“Littlepaw-“ started Flyfang.
“You’re going!” Littlepaw looked at her, outraged. “And the only reason you’re not my mentor is because we didn’t do the ceremony! You can’t just leave me behind!”
Laurelclaw tried next. “It’s dangerous for all of us, nevermind you, you know? We don’t know what StarClan can do to us. I mean, I’m sure it’ll tell everyone to chase us down if it catches wind of what we’re doing. We just don’t want you to get in trouble with us.” He cowed a little when Littlepaw glared at him. “Legal or physical, I mean.”
“He’s not wrong,” Darkpelt said. “Heading straight into the wasp’s nest may have some dire consequences for us, if we get there before the Clan gets us. We have absolutely no idea of how much it can hurt us until and when we get to the Lighthouse.”
Littlepaw stood as tall as her tiny stature would allow, tail lashing and eyes fiery and determined. “You don’t get it. I have just as much stake in this as you do. Not because of my family and my own life.” She paused, swallowed, and continued, a little shakier and angrier at the same time. “I helped propagate the lie of StarClan. I helped this thing deceive everyone. It deceived me! I bought into its crap and I told everyone what it told me, and they bought into its crap too. You can’t just send me home and expect me to forget everything I’ve learned, and everything I’ve helped it do.”
“No one blames you for being fooled,” Redheart said soothingly. “That isn’t your fault.”
“But it’s going to be my fault if I don’t do something about it,” Littlepaw countered. She gave everyone a defiant, fiery stare that was so uncharacteristic on her pretty face that Greyleaf almost wanted to draw back a little in alarm. “So you can take me with you or I can follow you the whole way to the Lighthouse, no matter how hard you try to drive me off. Either way, I’m part of this, and I don’t care what I need to do to help stop StarClan, with or without your approval.”
There was a silence. The adults now looked at each other, silently debating back and forth. Greyleaf regarded Littlepaw with sympathy. He understood her fear of that helpless frustration at being put aside and forced to do nothing with this horrible knowledge in her head.
“Let her come with us,” he said. “It’s only fair.”
“Getting an apprentice in trouble with the leaders, though…” Laurelclaw said anxiously.
“It’s her choice.” Greyleaf nodded to Littlepaw. “And I can’t make her live with what she knows and be unable to do anything about it.”
Mistface hummed. “She is right. We ain’t her mentor. Or her mother, for that matter. Let her do what she wants.”
Redheart had her head down, eyes narrowed in thought. She looked up again after a moment and said to Littlepaw, “My caveat is this: we can make Flyfang your mentor right now, and she will have the final say in what you do. If she says no, then you go home.”
Flyfang and Littlepaw blinked in surprise, looked at each other, and then smiled at the same time.
“Sounds fair to me,” Flyfang said. “Littlepaw?”
“Let’s do it,” Littlepaw said. “And don’t disappoint me.”
Flyfang poorly restrained a chuckle and looked at everyone else for confirmation. Without a word, the rest of the cats stood and moved to allow Flyfang, Littlepaw and Redheart some space. Greyleaf was grateful for how oddly light-feeling the moment was.
Redheart took a step forward, completely clear of Mistface and Darkpelt, and raised her voice a little, enough for it to be heard clearly in the thick woods.
“The apprentice before us has reached a turning point in her life,” she began. “She has chosen to leave behind the path of seerhood and turn to warriorhood. We honor her decision with this ceremony. Littlepaw, as an approved deputy of the Clan, I thank you for your service as a seer-in-training and change your status to warrior-in-training.” She looked warmly at Flyfang. “Flyfang, you have already taken charge of Littlepaw’s education and protection these past months. You will be her official mentor from here to her graduation and naming ceremony. I ask you to pass on your skills as a fighter and hunter to her.”
Flyfang and Littlepaw faced each other and touched noses. Greyleaf could see excitement and nervousness fluffing Littlepaw’s fur. He waited, not sure whether to hope for Flyfang’s approval or Littlepaw’s dismissal. From the tension in the air, everyone else was thinking the same thing.
“And with that…” Redheart’s eyes turned serious again. “Flyfang, it’s your call. Will she come with us?”
Flyfang looked down at Littlepaw, a flurry of emotions passing through her face. Littlepaw’s tail trembled a little.
After what felt like an eternity, Flyfang said to Redheart, “She will.”
Littlepaw bounced twice before catching herself and standing stiff and serious. Greyleaf couldn’t help a sigh of relief, odd thing though it was to be relieved about. The other adults relaxed and exchanged looks again, some worried, some optimistic.
“Then that’s that.” Redheart smiled at Littlepaw. “Your mentor has the final word.”
“Not that it would have made a difference,” Beetlefoot muttered. “She was going to follow us.”
“But now I don’t have to,” Littlepaw said, grinning. “So when do we head north?”
“Preferably as soon as possible,” Darkpelt said. “We’re losing cats daily. We ought to put a stop to this swiftly as we can.”
“We leave as soon as we’ve eaten,” Redheart said.
Everyone brightened at this. Greyleaf could feel the same thrill he had in his heart from the others. Having this plan – even the slimmest spider-silk of hope – it felt like having a reason to live. As the group of renegades started chatting to each other about possible trails and ideas, Greyleaf and Mistface simultaneously got up and met each other halfway.
“We’re savin’ Mama,” Mistface said, quiet enough for only Greyleaf to hear him. “She ain’t goin’ to that thing.”
Greyleaf nodded firmly. “It’ll have to get us first.”
Mistface’s features were calm, but Greyleaf could see, deep in his green eyes, a steadily burning determination. Greyleaf smiled grimly, feeling that determination roaring away in his own heart.
Hang on a little longer, Mama, he thought, hoping it could reach her somehow.
Just a little bit longer.
We’re coming for it.
You’ll be safe soon.