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Flyfang
"If this card attacks a Defense Position monster, inflict piercing battle damage. If this card inflicted battle damage to your opponent, at the end of the Battle Phase: Banish this card until your next Standby Phase: Banish this card until your next Standby Phase."
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?
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.
Arc Four: Chapter Eight
(AO3 counterpart here.)
Awaken.
The single word rippled through the heads of every one of the renegades, but Mistface was the first to react to it by blinking back into the real world and looking up to see the familiar shadowy creature standing quietly in front of him.
“Been a bit,” Mistface mumbled, voice deep and thick with sleep. He lifted his head, surprised that the sunlight wasn’t hurting his eyes. He realized a moment later that this was because the sun was not up – the sky had just started to turn pale in the north, stars still free to roam across the black night.
“Little early to be wakin’ us, don’t you think?” he remarked, as Greyleaf’s head, fur mussed, rose as well.
The Runagate kept their barely-there eyes on Mistface. I believe it to be vital that you continue your quest as soon as possible, for I have news.
All around them came the grumbles and hissing breaths of those shaken out of their sleep right as they were in the deepest part of it. Mistface waited for everyone to catch sight of the Runagate before he sat up and shook his pelt to wake himself up a little more. It barely worked.
“What’s wrong?” Redheart was the most alert by now, barring her eyes. That exhausted look never left them. “Has the patrol caught up to us?”
The Runagate glanced around, as if to assure themselves that everyone was up, before turning to the deputy. Not yet. They have no idea where you went. Whatever you did, they’ve been thrown off your trail.
Several sighs of relief.
It matters little. The Runagate slowly rotated to look at everyone. The Clan knows of you all. Any cat that sights you is to report to a patroller or to the leaders.
Now every breath was cut off before they could become gasps. Everyone exchanged worried looks, save Darkpelt, who simply grimaced.
“Is there any way we can go around any other warriors and avoid being caught?” Littlepaw asked nervously. “There has to be something.”
“If we can make it to the Machair, the path to the Lighthouse should be clear,” Laurelclaw said quickly. “It’s just- it’s just a question of making it.”
“Well, the Territory ends close to here, right?” Flyfang leaned her head forward a little to glance at everyone from where she sat. “There’s just the leaders’ dens, and then the walk to the coast. Right?”
“That’s the thing,” Redheart sighed. “We need to pass through those dens. And I have no idea what will be there, or where to go.”
Greyleaf cleared his throat. “I know the tunnels up there. I’ve got a general idea of the schedule and who will be around…but…”
“That may be altered with the search for us,” Mistface finished.
“Yeah.” Greyleaf nodded unhappily. “That’s the thing.”
The Runagate inclined their head in Greyleaf’s direction. You will have to go through the tunnels, I’m afraid. Everywhere else is guarded, or else there will be those that can stop you.
“And no one will try to stop us in the dens?” Darkpelt asked dryly.
The Runagate didn’t answer right away. Their faint eyes squinted a little, their nose raised in the air, like they were smelling something.
Finally, slowly, they said, There may be hope there. Help, even, perhaps.
“What do you mean?” Redheart peered at them, scrutinizing.
There was a disturbance there in these few past days. The Runagate’s words felt faintly enthused. I was not there to see it, but there is a loose root within the leaders and high deputies.
Littlepaw’s eyes widened. “Does someone know about StarClan there?”
I can only guess, the Runagate replied, but that astray feeling in me has not been wrong before.
Everyone looked at each other again, somehow pleasantly surprised and concerned at once.
Flee through the tunnels. The Runagate took a step back. I will be ahead of you. Any troubles you may face, you will know from me first.
“We appreciate it,” Redheart said quietly. She raised her chin and looked around the broken ring of cats. “Few cats will be up right now. We should go while we have some cover. Beetlefoot, can you lead us out of the woods?”
Beetlefoot immediately stood up, front paws together. “We don’t have far to go. The leaders’ dens are visible from the border.”
“Excellent.” Redheart got to her feet too. “Let’s head out.”
The Runagate dipped their head and was gone before anyone had time to blink.
“Final push,” Flyfang said to Littlepaw as Beetlefoot trotted off, leading everyone out of the clearing. “Then we’ll be out of the Territory. You still want to come?”
“I do,” Littlepaw said firmly. “I’m not leaving now or ever.”
Flyfang didn’t respond, but Mistface saw that nostalgic, distant fondness in her eyes. He privately wondered if this crew was going to get to collect Flyfang’s sisters after all.
Beetlefoot was right; the forest ended rather quickly, and they soon found themselves having to run across a wide cut of open and flat land, eight figures trying not to leave a trail in the dewy grass that had softened significantly from their last encounters with the stuff. No one seemed to be around, but not even Mistface was willing to slow down and check more thoroughly.
The leaders’ dens were all underground, everyone knew that. What wasn’t as well known was the fact that a sea of brush and bramble stood guard over the area, twisting into small mazes or just serving as a hostile hedge that could not be crossed. The cats really didn’t have a choice but to go underground if they wanted to escape notice – it was impossible to get past the brambles and go straight forward.
It was entirely silent, save for a small breeze shifting a leave or two in the plants. That did not make Mistface feel any more confident.
“This way,” Greyleaf whispered, and led the crew past a few holes into the earth, turning around a right corner formed by thorns and sharp leaves. Everyone followed single-file, with Redheart and Mistface closest behind him. Several more turns were made before Greyleaf paused in front of what looked to be a den entrance. Oddly, the brambles seemed to be pulled back by vines themselves instead of the throughway being hollowed out from the hedge. Mistface didn’t have a moment to inspect before his brother started off again, moving through the entrance.
They stepped into a wide space, walled like the stone houses in the Clast settlement, but instead made of the foliage they had been passing through. That was the uninteresting part. What got Mistface’s attention was that, in this huge space, many plants with flowers or colored stems or even just brush with cobwebs all over them were growing in perfectly straight rows. Each plant was immaculately fresh, and the ground around some of them was dark with moisture. Mistface looked up and saw some of the entrance-bordering vines spread out along a leafy wall, and even their flowers and berries were perfect.
“This is the garden,” Greyleaf whispered before anyone could ask. “They plant herbs here specifically for the leaders’ use. That way, I don’t have to go far to get medicine.”
Mistface had heard bits and pieces about the garden before from his brother, but seeing it in practice lit his mind up. “It’s a marvel that no one else’s thought of this before.”
“Well, the Loopers supposedly cultivate some mint varieties.” Greyleaf made a face. “I doubt it’s for medicinal purposes, though.”
Mistface’s eyes rolled immediately.
“Who are Loopers?” Littlepaw whispered.
“No one special,” Darkpelt muttered, and even she sounded annoyed. “Just some losers that-“
Something rustled over the wall. Everyone froze.
Darkpelt sniffed the air, ears perked. After a long, long moment, she whispered, “We’re alone.”
“Good. Now, where’s…” Greyleaf trotted up to a batch of bright orange poppies and ducked his head down, pawing at a small hole just behind the row of flowers. “Mistface, get a big leaf. I want to take some of these seeds with us.”
“What for?” Laurelclaw asked as Mistface obeyed his brother, looking for the broadest leaf he could find.
“Poppy seeds help induce sleep.” Greyleaf pawed out some very tiny dark seeds. “I figure we can all fall asleep at the same time if we take some at the Lighthouse.”
“Then we’re all in it together,” Darkpelt said. “Not a bad idea.”
Mistface found a broad leaf and pulled it off of the plant it was on (he had no idea what it was called, but it was quite fresh-smelling). He brought it to his brother, who took it with a “thank you”. The rather sizeable pile of poppy seeds were then pawed onto the leaf, which Greyleaf rolled up carefully and folded over.
“We’ll have to be careful not to drop this,” he said. “This is a pretty valuable supply I just took.”
“I can carry it,” Beetlefoot offered.
Greyleaf blinked in surprise. “Well…sure, if you can remember not to talk with this in your mouth.”
“Won’t be hard,” Beetlefoot muttered, and met Greyleaf halfway. He took the bundle, about the size of a bird’s egg, and nodded firmly. With that, Greyleaf turned and started through another entrance on the far side of the wall left to where they had come from. They all went after him, Beetlefoot taking up the rear.
Abruptly, their path sloped downward, and they found themselves underground, winding through turns and broad hollows that Greyleaf clearly knew by heart, with how easily he turned left or right without slowing down. It wasn’t as dark as it could have been, oddly enough – there were small holes in the ceiling everywhere to let in light. Mistface glanced up at every hole they passed under, curious.
“What do they do about these holes when it rains?” he asked Greyleaf.
“Usually they get covered up with leaves,” Greyleaf said quietly. “There’s a fig tree above ground right above here, and its-“
He stopped in his tracks. Redheart nearly bumped into him before freezing as well. Mistface had to peer over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. When he did, his chest went cold.
Sitting in a broad, hollowed-out chamber just ahead of them was the small ginger leader of the Clast, Fernstar.
Everyone went completely still. They were still in a tunnel. Mistface’s eyes darted around, searching for a way to escape before they were noticed.
“I see you,” Fernstar murmured, and yet her voice seemed to ring in the chamber. “Come in.”
Hesitantly, all glancing at each other, the renegades filed in, sticking in a close cluster, even in the open space. Greyleaf was bristling hard, his tail shaking.
When a long moment of silence had passed, Redheart swallowed and took a step forward. “Fernstar, I know what you must have heard, but… please, you need to let us pass unnoticed. We’re on a mission.”
Fernstar wasn’t looking directly at her; her gaze roamed over the collected cats with half-closed eyes, as if lost in thought.
Redheart tried again. “I can’t explain to you what we’re doing – it won’t make any sense to you – but trust me, it’s more vital than you could possibly imagine.”
“And trust me,” Greyleaf said, voice low and intense, “we’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish it.”
Mistface stared at his brother. He wasn’t planning on threatening a leader to get by, was he?
Fernstar’s eyes finally focused as they settled on Greyleaf. “I heard about your troubles.”
Greyleaf squinted at her.
“You saw something,” she continued. She briefly glanced down at the floor, her voice even more quiet. “And perhaps I’ve seen it too.”
Greyleaf’s eyes widened immediately. He and Redheart looked at each other in disbelief.
“What’d you see?” Mistface ventured to ask.
Fernstar took in a long, deep breath, then let it out. She looked deeply troubled. “Something that has me considering what I know and what I think I know.”
Everyone was silent, waiting. Not even a breath was drawn.
Fernstar tilted her head a little, regarding Redheart with something like fondness, if fondness could be so melancholy.
“Go,” she said, and stood up. “No one else is awake. Whatever you’re doing, now’s your chance to make it happen.”
Redheart shakily sighed with relief, and moved forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with Fernstar. She bowed her head, murmuring, “Thank you. If we succeed, you’ll understand.”
Fernstar touched her nose between Redheart’s ears. “I expect a thorough explanation when you’re done.”
“You’ll get that and more,” Greyleaf said. “I can promise you that.”
Fernstar seemed to analyze him for a moment, before moving to the wall and sitting down, facing the renegades. “You’d do best to hurry.”
Redheart looked to Greyleaf, then to the others. They all nodded. Greyleaf’s claws flexed for just an instant before he started off again. He crossed the chamber and went into another tunnel. As everyone went along, passing Fernstar, they all dipped their heads respectfully. Even Darkpelt seemed to know now was not the time to be cheeky. She just let Laurelclaw lead her along with his tail, her own tail tapping the ground as they went.
It was silent, the walk through the rest of the tunnels, and quite tense. Mistface thought it felt…appropriate. Dramatically appropriate, in a way, like heroes sneaking around a sleeping monster.
Which, really, was sort of what they were doing.
Hopefully. The heroes didn’t tend to die in stories like that.
Arc Three: Chapter Eleven
(AO3 counterpart here.)
The silence continued into the dawn. No one got much sleep after Littlepaw’s vision. They were all afraid that they would be next.
Laurelclaw tried his best to stay positive, he really did. He pulled up as many hopeful, happy thoughts as he could while standing guard outside of Littlepaw’s den, ready to jump in and shake her out of another nightmare at the drop of a feather. Flyfang had tried to tell him to rest, but there was a silent understanding between the two that neither of them was going to sleep again when Littlepaw was at risk of falling back into whatever horrible space she had been in. Flyfang had conceded and gone into the den to be closer to her half-apprentice. When Laurelclaw glanced in occasionally, she was curled around Littlepaw’s tightly balled-up body, watching her with exhausted fear. He couldn’t blame her.
It wasn’t just that which made him fail to keep a happy image in his head. All of his happy images were of his family, the Plage – his mother, father, goofy deputy and snarky former mentor, among all the others, walking together, sharing jokes, watching the waves of the ocean rear and collapse, stretching their foam as far as it could go up the beach. The sense of companionship and confidence. Security in their strength as they stood together.
All of it suddenly felt so pointless, in the grand scheme of things. So temporary.
Laurelclaw fought against the dread that came with every reminder that his family was not going to a happy afterlife. He failed to keep it down. It soaked into his chest and stomach, sticking against the walls of his insides, making him sick. He shivered with nausea many times throughout the night.
The sun barely made it through the thick canopy above the makeshift camp. Laurelclaw hardly noticed it was daylight until Flyfang emerged from the den and shook out her fur. She wordlessly went off into the woods, tail dragging on the ground after her.
Everyone was awake and outside, sitting uncomfortably in silence, before Flyfang returned, carrying prey. Beetlefoot went with her to retrieve everything else she had caught, but there were still no words exchanged. They all formed a ring again and picked listlessly at their meals, nibbling without tasting.
Laurelclaw was absorbed in his own thoughts, but the tension eventually became too much to ignore. He followed his urge to say something.
“You know…” he started, and winced when everyone looked at him like he had shouted. “Imagining everyone’s reaction to all of this, it’s… it can be a little funny, I think.”
Silence. Every face was baffled. Laurelclaw internally berated himself and tried again.
“It’s just me thinking about my mom, really,” he said while fighting off shakiness in his voice. “She’d- she would want to go to sleep and find StarClan and fight it to the death herself. She’d leap at the opportunity. But my dad, he’d run. He’d take the entire family with him – the whole Clan, probably – and flee as far as he could go. He was always a little timid like that.”
The silence calmed a little. Laurelclaw could see the others considering their own families.
“I think…” Flyfang’s eyes lifted up towards the treetops, contemplating. “I think the Marish would panic. My sisters, maybe they wouldn’t get it. They’d think it’s some monster from a story, something easy to beat on your way to becoming a hero. It’d be exciting for them.” Her voice lowered a little, tightened. “I’d prefer for them to think of it that way.”
Surprisingly, Beetlefoot spoke next. “I know the Fleet would all follow Redheart’s idea to get the entire Clan out of the Territory, if they could. Though everyone where I was born is… rather traditional. They prefer the aspects. But they still cling to them going to StarClan for their ‘good behavior’ and ‘righteous worship’. If they knew that all their praying and piousness meant nothing, they might just fling themselves into the river. Leap into the mouth of the beast. Get it over with as soon as possible.”
Laurelclaw looked at Beetlefoot, a little startled. It was the most he had ever said about himself. That tiny, weak cynicism in him remarked wryly about how of course it was unhappy and dour, coming from Beetlefoot. He told that part to hush and be nice.
“My mom wouldn’t believe it,” Littlepaw said, a bit muted and flat. She wasn’t looking at anyone. “She’d find every excuse under the sun to reason it away as a mistake or a lie.”
“Hard thing to convince anyone about,” Mistface said.
Laurelclaw couldn’t help some desperation in his voice. “Isn’t there anything we can do? We could warn everyone, right? Spread the word?”
Redheart sighed, more in a world-weary way than in annoyance with him (thankfully). “I’ve wanted to run around the Territory and tell everyone the truth so many times, Laurelclaw. But the Runagate’s been doing that for generations now, and they’ve barely gotten anywhere. We’re not the first ones to know about StarClan. We probably won’t be the last.”
“I don’t know how much we could do, anyway,” Greyleaf said. His claws were deeply sunk into the soft ground. “Who would believe a deputy on the run, and who would believe a healer, of all cats?”
“But Littlepaw-“ started Laurelclaw, but Redheart shook her head.
“She’s not a seer anymore,” she said. “And so many of our actual seers are fooled, StarClan can easily lie to them and call us insane. Littlepaw got lucky with the Runagate visiting her and StarClan trying to talk to her again, it seems.”
“‘Lucky’ is a real subjective word,” Mistface remarked. “Ain’t sure how lucky it is to see what y’all see.”
“About as lucky as bearing witness to a murder when no one else was around, I suppose,” Beetlefoot said darkly.
“You aren’t wrong.” Greyleaf looked down at his paws and carefully retracted his claws, grimacing. “It’s a stroke of incredible fortune that any of you believed us to begin with. I mean…” He looked to his brother. “You didn’t at first, right? Even you?”
Mistface gave him a non-smile. “Thought you might’ve been crazy for a minute, yes.”
“And he’s my brother.” Greyleaf turned back to everyone else. “The thing is that, yeah, you all believed us, but you’re a smaller group with at least relatively open minds, and it still took a second to win you over. Telling a much larger crowd, or a couple of strangers you’ve never spoken to before, that’s going to be a lot harder to convince.”
“That’s the trouble with all of us,” Darkpelt said suddenly. “I’ve noticed it in my line of work. Cats like to follow along with the crowd because it makes us feel more secure, like somehow more cats means more logical thinking and correct choices. And we cling to any line of security we can get. If you were told a horrible truth, and someone in your group said ‘that’s nonsense!’, you’d be inclined to believe them. It’s safer for your sanity.”
“Then how did we all believe it?” Flyfang, despite her words, did not sound argumentative. She looked more puzzled than anything.
Darkpelt shifted to tuck her front paws underneath her chest and she shut her eyes. Her tone became contemplative. “For me, at least, it just makes sense. I’ve always believed that nothing is impossible, given how real StarClan seemed all my life. And the connections between Redheart and Greyleaf, especially the nightmares, made me far too curious to just pass them off as insane and leave it at that.” She opened her eyes and turned her head in Flyfang’s direction. “Like I said the other day, they have a completely bonkers story that no one would expect to be believed, except a nutter. But a nutter wouldn’t also have the story make sense if one stops to think about the logistics of it.”
“And you believed based on that?” Mistface asked, eyes half-closed as he regarded her doubtfully.
“Better reason than just a blood connection,” Darkpelt said, with a jaunty nod at him. “You’d believe Greyleaf if he told you he was Derecho in physical form.”
Mistface, surprisingly, did not react with his usual flat irritation. Rather, he looked amused. “It’d make more sense for him to be Gelid, with everything about Gelid’s inevitability, relating to what we know now.”
“You’d make a better Gelid than me,” Greyleaf said.
“Or Brume,” Beetlefoot muttered. “Slow and fluffy as you are.”
Mistface gave a breathy laugh, and with that the air of the ring loosened and relaxed. Appetites returned, everyone now eating properly and with a little more enjoyment of their food. It was quiet again for a while, until Beetlefoot spoke up, almost quiet enough that Laurelclaw didn't hear him.
“You know, Brume and Gelid used to be the same aspect,” he murmured.
Littlepaw perked up immediately. “I thought I heard something like that when I was a kit. Who were they?”
Speaking a little louder and, rather nicely, almost friendlier, Beetlefoot looked at Littlepaw. “They were called Rime. He was the aspect of ice and fog, once. He split into two a long time ago. The Brae still pray to him, though, as if he hasn’t been halved.”
“That doesn’t make much sense,” Flyfang said. “How could he still exist and be two different aspects at the same time?”
“Nothing the Brae do makes sense.” Beetlefoot shook his head. “They’re reclusive idiots.”
“Sounds like the Marish,” Flyfang said, almost nostalgically. “I had to peal out of there when they had their backs turned. They don’t want anyone leaving or coming in.”
Mistface swallowed a mouse tail. “Y’all got more problems in your families than they’re worth, if you ask me.”
“Your brother is on the run because he’s immune to a monster's visions,” Flyfang said, giving him a sarcastic head tilt. “Don’t you talk on family.”
“He’s kind of right, though,” Laurelclaw offered. “I love the Plage, but they can be a lot to handle. They all keep pushing me to be a patroller in the Fleet.”
Littlepaw lifted a paw to hide a smile. “They’ve met you, right?”
“I say the same thing.” Laurelclaw sighed a bit dramatically, for humor’s sake. “I’m just good at taking hits, that’s all.”
“You would not be a good patroller,” said Beetlefoot. “They’re all eager for a fight.” He paused, considering. “Though you cut an intimidating enough figure. You do have a chip in your ear.”
Laurelclaw lowered his head, a little embarrassed. “That was just an accident in my assessment.”
Littlepaw could not hide her smile now. “Have you been in a single real fight at all?”
“…No.” Laurelclaw’s ears (including the chipped one) started to burn, but Littlepaw’s laugh - quiet and small, but genuine - cooled them down again. Flyfang shook her head in mock disappointment. Even Redheart smiled.
There was a lull in the conversation again, but it was nice now – Laurelclaw could see everyone’s relief at the lightening of the mood as they exchanged friendly glances or started grooming their fur. Mistface and Greyleaf were talking in low voices to each other, and Greyleaf seemed calm for once.
“AH!”
A collective jump and the crew all looked at Darkpelt. She had shot up into a sitting position, her eyes huge even compared to her normal wide-eyed blind stare. Her tail stood straight up, fur sticking out like a fox’s.
“Something wrong?” Flyfang ventured when nothing was said.
“StarClan’s visions.” Darkpelt’s head twisted this way and that, like she was seeing something they couldn’t. “Greyleaf has been immune to them his whole life, and Littlepaw can see through the veil. ‘Through the veil’.” Her head turned in Redheart’s direction. “That’s what the Runagate told you. That was the specific wording.”
Redheart haltingly answered, confused. “It was, yes.”
“Littlepaw, Greyleaf, neither of you believe anymore, if you ever did.” Darkpelt looked between them. “As soon as you knew the truth, StarClan couldn’t work its magic on you.”
Littlepaw’s face fell. She seemed to be recalling the memory of her nightmare. “Yes. The field I always see was dead, and then it fell apart.”
“Is there a point to this?” Beetlefoot's head was craned a bit forward and his eyes were narrowed like Darkpelt’s were whenever she was concentrating.
“I don’t know yet.” Darkpelt lowered herself down again. “But it’s important. I can feel that. We have the veil and the knowledge of immunity. That’s all based on belief.” She squinted hard. “Belief. That’s going to be a factor. Keep that in your heads, everyone. We’re going to need to think.”
Laurelclaw didn’t know what to say. Thinking was not his strong suite to begin with, but this incredibly vague command to 'keep belief in his head' was already beyond him.
“Um…” He tilted his head, forgetting for a moment that Darkpelt couldn’t see him. “What does that factor into?”
“Haven’t the faintest,” Darkpelt said. “We’ll just have to wrack our noggins and see. Think hard, everyone. Think harder than you’ve ever thought in your lives. Our home and Clan depend on it.”
Redheart regarded Darkpelt with some puzzlement, but eventually she gave a small sigh. “We can do that. I hope this is going somewhere.”
“It is.” For the first time since they’d left the Clast, Darkpelt smiled broadly. “I promise.”
Arc Three: Chapter Six
(AO3 counterpart here.)
The broken ring of an audience was silent for a long time after Greyleaf’s story ended. They looked at each other, at the sky, at nothing at all, trying to absorb what they had been told and to deduce whether any of it was true or not.
All of the anger seemed to have left Greyleaf, his fur lying flat, if a little clumped and stiff from the rain. He breathed normally, his eyes tired and dark. He stood straighter, like the massive weight of his knowledge had been physically lifted off his back. Redheart mirrored his posture, though her head was a little lowered and her expression was one of relief. The two of them said nothing, merely watched the cats around them.
Flyfang was the first to speak, her voice cracked and weak. “Then my mom’s soul…”
“If she’s dead, she’s in that thing,” Redheart said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Flyfang shivered hard. “And my dad…” She froze up with a gasp. “When my sisters die-“
“When we all die.” Laurelclaw looked back and forth with increasing distress, his short tail puffed up like a coyote’s. “Our families, friends – everyone-“ He turned pleadingly to Redheart and Greyleaf. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“Outside of leaving?” Greyleaf’s calmness was tainted with a bitter twitch of his lip. “Probably not.”
“They could be lying,” Beetlefoot said, hardly sounding like he was certain. “They could be mistaken.”
“I doubt it,” Darkpelt said, still cool and collected, even if her pupils were constricted and her tail was shaking. “This entire thing makes sense to me. Even if they made it up, it’s way too out there to be a reasonably invented lie. Who would claim something this crazy and expect anyone to believe them?”
Beetlefoot’s mouth moved a few times, but he gave up, staring at the ground with a dumbfounded sense of fear.
Greyleaf now looked at Mistface, deeply unhappy. “Can you see now why we have to leave with Mama as soon as possible?”
Mistface tried to breathe, but it came out shaky and stuttering. “We’re…we are on a time limit, ain’t we?”
Greyleaf dipped his chin a little in a half-nod before returning his focus to the rest of the group. “So whatever you want to do with that, you can. That’s the truth, and we’re trying to save everyone before they can die here.”
“It’s quite a task, as you can see,” Redheart said. “I’m amazed that any of you believe us.”
Silence again for a long moment, before Littlepaw’s timid voice broke it. “Then…what do we do now?”
Everyone looked at each other again, seeking someone to tell them too.
Darkpelt sighed and shook out her fur. “Well, for now, we should probably just rest. It’s night and we’ll need to think things over.” She pulled one side of her mouth back, considering. “I suppose we’ll have someone coming for us soon enough. I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to have time to decide on my next course of action before they catch up to us.”
“I’ll take watch, if y’all intend to sleep,” Mistface said, a little quicker than he would have liked. He needed privacy to reflect, and he'd take it any way he could without outright abandoning the group.
A pause where everyone turned to the Clast deputy, silently seeking an answer, or an order - something to give them direction.
Redheart slowly spoke. “I think sleep would be best. None of us can go anywhere when it’s this dark and wet at the same time.”
“I can try, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep,” said Laurelclaw. He shook his head and regarded Greyleaf and Redheart almost in awe. “I have no idea how you’ve slept at all for all these years.”
“I never knew anything else,” Greyleaf muttered, and moved to the side, prodding the ground for a dry spot.
“All I had was my goal.” Redheart backed a little and sniffed the ground. “That’s what’s kept me going.”
It took a long time before everyone was settled – finding a spot that wasn’t entirely muddy or soaking grass was difficult, and their breathing gave away their stress. Mistface didn’t speak to any of them. He just sat facing the direction they had come from, ears perked, mind racing.
It could all be a lie, he wanted to remind himself. It didn’t have to be true. His brother could have just been driven mad by his nightmares and Redheart took advantage of that. Or maybe Redheart was a loony, and Greyleaf was just desperate for an explanation. And even as he thought that, he knew how stupid of a suggestion it was. Darkpelt was right – this was too strange of a story to be thought acceptable to sell to others under the knowledge that it was made up. Liars could think up sensible details from dusk ‘til dawn, and the insane could believe total nonsense. Doing both was not easy.
These thoughts turned over and over in Mistface’s head as he half-listened to the rest of the cats’ breathing slow and deepen. It took a very long time for everyone to fall asleep, and Mistface kept his ear swiveling, listening for anyone having a nightmare. He didn’t know exactly how the truth would affect them, but he wasn’t willing to disregard the idea that someone was going to see something bad.
Grass shifted.
Mistface’s head jerked around. He got halfway off his haunches. No one could have found them this early, could they?
It was black and silver out here in the night, but he thought he saw something to the side of a tree on the edge of the grove. Some shape that could have been a fox, or could have been…
“Not a chance,” he said under his breath. He stood up and craned his neck forward, squinting.
A figure, tall and dark and thin. It stood silently, regarding him as he regarded it.
He immediately knew who it was.
Mistface did one quick dart of the eyes to make sure no one was coming towards them from the north, and then stood and slowly made his way to the shadow.
It didn’t move. In fact, the way it watched him, he was sure that it had timed its visit just so that someone would see it. Its snakelike tail, fading away towards the tip, waved a little, side-to-side.
“You’re right bold, ain’t you?” Mistface said, keeping his voice low. He stopped when he was several body-lengths away. “What if we hadn’t heard their story before we saw you?”
The Runagate blinked slowly, almost dryly. I was there to hear it. Have to keep close to them these days. My voice isn’t as strong as it was.
Mistface knew that, faced with a ghost – or demon, or devil, or spirit, whatever it was – he should be at least a little nervous, if not outright scared. He knew the tales. He knew that it could have been manipulating two innocent and stressed-out cats.
Somehow, though, it felt like talking with a neighbor. Or perhaps like sharing a view with someone else of something too strange to explain.
Mistface tilted his head. “Funny, ain’t it. Whole perspective of the world gets changed in one night. Now you’re hardly anythin’ to talk to.”
I’ve been ‘hardly anything’ for a very long time, the Runagate said. Its head lowered a little. Just slowly fading while I try to spread the word. It’s all I’ve got now, like them. A pause, and then, almost too quiet to hear the thought, I don’t even remember who I was before all of this. Before I died.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mistface said - genuinely, to his surprise. “You’re nothin’ like I imagined.”
The smallest ‘hm’, that could perhaps be considered a noise of hollow amusement. They always make me out to be some pale monster with a snake’s tongue. Got real tired of watching those performances the first couple generations.
“I can only imagine.” Mistface looked back, checking to see if anyone was awake. Nothing. He turned again to the Runagate. “You’re somethin’ special, certainly. How did you get away from it? Redheart’s mother didn’t.”
She should have fled herself, the Runagate said, and its voice was just a little more intense in Mistface’s head, with some emotion he couldn’t name. I took one look before I ran for everything I held dear. Didn’t pause to ask questions. Just ran. And I’ve been running since then.
Mistface was surprised at the pity in his heart – not just because he had it at all, but because out of all of the characters in the Clan’s legends he had been told about, he didn’t expect to feel it for a supposed demon who was living through sheer determination, even when the whole Territory was against them.
A question came to his mind. “There been anyone else you’ve told? Anyone else who’s known?”
A heavy sigh…or perhaps the wind. Only a few, and only one at a time. Greyleaf and Redheart existing together is a miracle. The others, they did nothing. They could find nothing to do. Most of them just ran away. Sometimes took friends or family out of the Territory. I don’t know where they are now.
Mistface’s eyelids lowered a little as he considered this. There came another question, burning with his curiosity much more. “Greyleaf ain’t ever been affected by this. You got any idea why?”
The Runagate made another lifeless, breathy noise like a chuckle. I wish I knew. He’s a first. Not many cats like him that nothing can get to. It took everything I had just to talk to him in his dreams that one time.
“Huh.” Mistface’s eyes drifted down. “Curious. It’d be worthwhile to study that.”
If you have the time before it’s too late, certainly.
“We will,” Mistface said, startled again by a new sensation in his chest – something steady and warm, making him feel a little bolder. “Everyone’s gettin’ the time. We’ll figure somethin’ out. This ain’t continuin’.”
The Runagate’s head tilted and its eyes narrowed, but its tone was almost surprised. You intend to do something about this.
Mistface was unsure of what he was feeling, but he let it guide him into a firm nod. “If for no one else, for my family. Mama ain’t goin’ to that thing.” His fur fluffed out a little. “No one is, if I got my way. I’m sure at least some of these folks’ll feel the same.”
The Runagate blinked slowly, regarding him. The fading tail drifted back and forth slowly, like grass in the breeze. Mistface met what remained of its eyes with firm focus. Neither spoke for a moment.
I can give you all what I know, the Runagate said finally. I don’t know how much help I can be otherwise. I’m running out of… The silhouette shuddered and rippled. I’m out of everything, really. Time. Energy. Fear can only keep one going for so long, brother of Greyleaf.
Mistface gave it one nod and said, about as firmly as he could at such a quiet volume, “You’ll rest soon. We can figure this out.”
The shadowy face had a hint of a smile. I’ll hold you to that.
Arc Three: Chapter Two
(AO3 counterpart here.)
The entire group was silent for what it seemed like was forever before they eventually reached a small grove, just in time for the rain to peter out. A pocket in the clouds revealed the moon, turning everything into silver and black silhouettes, droplets sparkling like tiny moon shards.
“We ought to pause here,” Darkpelt said, and her voice was like a shout in the quiet.
Redheart sighed almost under her breath. “This is far enough from the settlement, yes.” She turned around and gestured. “If everyone can-“
“What did you mean?” Littlepaw blurted. “What’s StarClan really?”
Redheart stayed patient. “We can explain once we’re settled.”
“Not that being settled will help at all,” Beetlefoot muttered.
Greyleaf narrowed his eyes. “You have no idea how right you are.”
The silence resumed momentarily as everyone positioned themselves so that they were in a loose ring. Redheart still looked exhausted, and Greyleaf on the verge of fight-or-flight. An uneasy air needled through all of their damp fur and caused their skin to prickle.
“I don’t mean to put any pressure on you,” Darkpelt said with a weaponized casualness, “but I won’t hesitate to help in your capture unless you explain yourself thoroughly. And perhaps after that, depending on how crazy you are.”
“We should arrest them now,” Beetlefoot snapped. “They caused a death and a lot of trouble.”
Surprisingly, Littlepaw gave him a sharp look. “I want an explanation, too.”
“Go on,” Mistface said before Beetlefoot or anyone else could speak. “You’ve got a story. Tell it.”
Redheart, looking relieved for the prompt, lifted her chin high and sat down. “As I said, StarClan is a monster. It’s not a group of our ancestors – it’s already devoured them.”
“That’s all it wants,” Greyleaf growled. He was still standing. “To eat souls. It’s had us all under its paw for generations, swallowing up everyone who goes to it thinking it’s the afterlife. That’s why we have it so good. If we’re complacent, it’ll get more of us to gorge on.”
Complete silence. Awkward, doubtful looks were exchanged. Mistface could see Flyfang internally trying to find a polite way to call the two of them insane. He didn’t blame her; it was just because he knew Greyleaf well enough that he wasn’t immediately passing this off as crazy ramblings built from a lifetime of nightmares.
He was considering that as an option, though.
“Brother-“ he started.
“You don’t believe us,” Greyleaf interrupted, suddenly and alarmingly aggressive. “Fine. We didn’t expect you to. So let me explain some things to all of you.”
Redheart seemed just as surprised as Mistface felt when Greyleaf broke through the circle and stood in the middle, turning back and forth to look at everyone as he spoke.
“Here’s some things that don’t make sense,” he said. “Why do we have it so good here? Why aren’t there any predators around to pick us off? Why is nothing a struggle beyond a slightly long walk?” He suddenly got angrier, tail lashing to one side. “Really think about that. Does any other place in the world have it so well as we do, for absolutely no reason? Why are we so special that we get paradise? And the prey! How do we have so much? It makes no sense!”
Mistface tried again. “Greyleaf, listen-“
“No, you listen!” Greyleaf whirled around to face him with such force that for a split second Mistface was afraid he was going to be struck. “I’m trying to break this down for you! Do you know how much prey one cat eats in a day? More than you’d think!”
Laurelclaw was the one to speak now. “What-“
“Three to five meals!” Greyleaf shouted over him. “We all eat enough to get as fat as a kittypet, every single day! And how many cats are in this Territory? Hundreds, at least! That’s an uncountable amount of mice and squirrels and birds that need to produce babies daily just to keep up the numbers! And yet there’s plenty of prey to go around, right?” He looked back at Mistface, fur bristling. “Plenty of full-grown animals! We never need to go after their young! We never even see their young!”
Mistface opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“It doesn’t make sense!” Greyleaf was pacing now, his claws digging into the mud. “We should have starved years ago! Generations ago! We should have all died out after being forced to eat each other!”
Redheart winced and shuddered.
“Greyleaf, you’re not hearing yourself.” Flyfang’s ears went back. “We have the prey StarClan gives us-“
“That-“ Greyleaf jerked his head to look at her now and she flinched. “That is my point! Weird how we have so much prey from StarClan, isn’t it? Life doesn’t come from wishes and dewdrops! You need a soul for there to be life! And there’re only so many souls you can use! Where do those souls come from? Where? If normal prey souls return to normal prey, then where does StarClan get special souls to give to all the created prey we eat to survive? You can't just make something from nothing!”
No one said anything. Something very dark and horrible started tapping its claws on the back of Mistface’s mind, but a defensive sort of confusion blocked what it was whispering to him.
Greyleaf took a shaky breath and turned slowly, eyeing everyone. “But there’s plenty of cat souls, aren’t there? So many of us being born every day, some of which don’t make it to old age. And that prey, that’s made for us by StarClan… prey that’s clumsy on its feet, and slow, and confused…”
The tapping claws began to scrape. The voice crept over the blockade and murmured in Mistface’s ear.
“Don’t even need the whole thing, do we?” Greyleaf went on. The angry expression was giving way to utter terror. “They’re fat, sure, but they’re nice and small. And they’ll just come right on back in no time, won’t they? Won’t miss a thing.”
“What are you saying?” Flyfang asked, in a voice that made it very clear that she already knew and was dreading the answer.
Redheart shut her eyes painfully. “StarClan doesn’t just eat our souls. It uses them to grow larger and stronger, so it can keep eating, and keep growing. It can do whatever it wants with what it has.” She swallowed thickly. “Such as tear a soul to pieces and send it back down to us as food.”
The reaction was immediate – Laurelclaw and Littlepaw cried out in shock, Beetlefoot took a step back with wide eyes, Flyfang flinched and hissed, and Mistface’s mouth dropped even further.
“You’re insane,” Beetlefoot said, voice cracking. “You’ve both gone insane. StarClan wouldn’t do that- no one can do that-“
“You haven’t been paying attention,” Darkpelt said suddenly.
All eyes went to her. She was standing stiffly, and her eyes were large with her pupils constricted like she was staring into the sun, but her voice was calm and steady.
“StarClan wants as many of us as possible,” she said. “That’s how it feeds itself. Right?”
“Yes,” Redheart said wearily.
“So recycling bits of souls to keep a growing population fed is the perfect way to get back more than you put in.” Darkpelt’s tail shivered. “With three cats, you take one dead one and split it up how you need to. That creates at least three or four meals, and then the soul comes back to you however many times you use it. Then those three cats have kits, and then they die, and you have three souls to use to feed those litters. Then those litters have litters, and…”
“No, this…” Laurelclaw was shaking. “It can’t- it’s too horrible to be true.”
“Oh, you think that’s horrible!” Greyleaf gave a half-deranged laugh that was more like a snarl. “We're not done yet! What about everyone who doesn’t get to come back down here to be killed and eaten? What happens to them while they’re stuck in this thing’s- in whatever passes for its stomach?” He started pacing again. “Some of them come back down whole, and they get to be stuck in a leader’s body when they get nine lives! Sure, fatten up a rare treat or eight! Worth it for how many other souls it gets to devour!”
“Our leaders are being possessed?!” Littlepaw cried.
“Wrong!” Greyleaf turned to her. “They’re doing the possessing! Smothering what remains of those souls so they get to live a little longer! What about the rest? What do they get to do?” His eyes bore down on the apprentice as he took several steps towards her. “You were a seer apprentice, right? Remember how a cat that was long dead always came to you in dreams? Remember how it was the same cat all the time? Remember how they told you you’re safer here than anywhere else?”
Littlepaw stared back at him, starting to shake, her eyes bulging with realization.
“Greyleaf,” Redheart said quietly.
At once, Greyleaf backed up a couple steps, giving Littlepaw some room and breaking the eye-lock. Redheart moved to stand beside him, changing who was looking at Littlepaw now.
“StarClan is massive, and it’s clever.” She was mellower than Greyleaf, and much more morose. “It knows how to make you the most comfortable in your dreams. Whatever cat will put you at ease, have you stay complacent, it will send a visage of to you. No one else comes, is that right?”
Littlepaw seemed to remember something, and said weakly, “The other day, I had a nightmare where something dark in the distance told me that ‘it’ wanted me to think I’d woken up. And the cat- the cat I always saw, Meliclight- she wasn’t acting right, and then she was screaming…”
“You didn’t tell me about this!” Flyfang turned to her in shock. “When did this happen?”
Littlepaw didn’t quite look Flyfang’s way. “Two or three days ago. I thought it was just a nightmare, but then… Redheart, what she said, it made something light up in my head…”
“What dark thing did you see?” Redheart asked, gentle.
“I- I don’t know.” Littlepaw’s voice leveled a tiny bit as she thought. “It could have been a cat, but it was so vague and like a shadow.”
“Oh, for-“ Greyleaf tossed his head up to the sky, exasperated. “They did it again.”
“Who did what?” Beetlefoot sounded both testy and worried.
“The Runagate visited you,” Redheart replied to Littlepaw.
“The Runagate?” Laurelclaw almost squeaked. “The demon?”
Greyleaf looked back down to scowl at Laurelclaw. “They’re not a demon. They’re the farthest thing from. They’re trying to save us from a demon. Always have been.”
“The only soul StarClan can’t catch,” Redheart said softly. “And they’ve been running around the Territory warning us as well as they can. No one believes, because StarClan always manages to hide the truth.” The faintest tremor went through her body. “But not from us. Not from me. The Runagate is why I even had the chance to start this plan to leave in the first place.”
Again, it was silent. Mistface watched everyone’s tense bodies, raised fur, stiff tails and horrified expressions. Despite not feeling any better himself, he forced himself to relax.
“So how did this happen?” he said. “How did y’all learn about this, Runagate or otherwise? And how do you know it’s all true?”
Redheart and Greyleaf looked at each other. Then Redheart nodded and returned her gaze to the other six cats.
“I should start,” she said. She took a breath, shut her eyes as if reliving a painful memory, and opened them again. “It begins with a death."
