#foamfeather

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 15

Short story featuring Quiver under the cut!

"Did... did that really happen?" Quiver gaped as Splashstone finished his song. It all sounded so fantastical, the spirits of dead cats appearing and speaking to their living friends... well, now that she thought about it, it sounded a little spooky. But the way these TurtleClanners spoke of it, they hadn't seen it that way.

"It did," Dustjump, the old molly who had bound her broken paw, confirmed, her chin held high and pride glowing in her eyes. "We were all there, we all saw them that night."

Quiver crouched down, flattening her ears. "Are they... going to appear again?" She wasn't ready to meet any all-seeing ghosts. What if they didn't like her staying with TurtleClan while she healed? What if they found her as strange and off-putting as most cats seemed to? What if...? She felt her heart rate starting to pick up, heard her own blood rushing in her ears.

"No," Spindlefleck's tail draped over her shoulders pulled her out of her head more than her initial words. "Currentheart and Pearl said they couldn't just appear at will, and they selected Dustjump as their contact among us, besides."

"Oh." Quiver felt her heartbeat slow back to an even pulse at Spindlefleck's words, and Dustjump's nod of confirmation. That was... good. Comforting. Safe. She thought she could get used to the idea of ghosts watching her as long as she didn't have to see them. And everyone was so kind here, she didn't want to let some silly ghosts put her off... maybe it was alright for her to finally relax for a little while, to catch her breath.

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 12

New format! Most moons will be formatted this way from now on. Any extremely important events will have their own posts with a full art piece with background--sometimes even more than one art piece, like the founding of TurtleClan on Moon 11! But in general, from now on this is mostly what you can expect to see in terms of formatting for future updates. If an interaction has a story to go along with it, it will be put under the cut with the names of the primary involved characters as a header. Hope you all enjoy the change!

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 7

Spindlepaw trotted towards the adults den that most of the survivors shared, a spring in her step. It felt good to be up early, before the camp was bustling with activity. The air felt fresher, somehow, at this early hour. Usually, Foam was the one to come and wake her up, but today she had beaten him to it. He liked to begin her training early so that they could finish early enough to return to camp and bask in the warmth of the Leaf-fall sun before it fell too far. She enjoyed the early finish to training, but the early start had been difficult to get used to. A little thrill went through her at being the one to prod Foam awake this morning. See how he liked a paw in the side. 

Spindlepaw slid around the striped, granite boulder that shielded most of the entrance. She loved the rough texture of the rock on her thin fur, and she shivered with pleasure as she felt a knot in her fur tug free at the sensation. 

As her eyes adjusted to the dark of the den, Spindlepaw felt her gaze pulled to the opposite face of the striped boulder, where she knew a few dried, clay paw prints were scattered. The survivors had started calling this rock the Passage Boulder- every cat that graduated to full adult status in the group left their pawprint on the inner face when they moved into this den. One day soon, her pawprint would join the others on the mighty rock. She knew just where she would put it, too- right next to Currentheart’s mark. 

Spindlepaw pulled her eyes away from the Passage Boulder. She wouldn’t ever get to leave her mark there if she didn’t complete her training, first, and that started with waking Foam. She didn’t have to search far for her mentor. He made his nest near the entrance of the den, his large body blocking most of the wind and rain for the other cats further inside.

 Spindle raised a paw to give Foam a wicked jab in his side, and froze as a sour scent hit the roof of her mouth. Something was wrong. She narrowed her eyes, peering closer at her mentor’s sleeping form. The brown and white tabby’s fur was unkempt, sticking up at odd angles. Even without the strange scent, that would have been enough for Spindlepaw to know that something was wrong. Foam’s fur was never a mess. He took great pride in keeping his long fur well groomed and sleek, combing out any tangles from the day before he went to sleep.

“Foam?” Spindlepaw’s quiet mew trembled a little at the end. What was going on?

The brown and white heap of fur shifted, and Foam’s head appeared from over his shoulder, eyes dull. “Spindlepaw,” he rasped, “I’ll be–” his words broke off into a coughing fit. “I’ll be out soon,” he gasped when the fit finally ended. “I just need a moment.”

Spindlepaw felt the fur on her tail starting to bush. Her mentor was clearly unwell. “Foam, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” he coughed, “I just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s–” another coughing fit cut him off.

Spindlepaw’s ears pinned back, her eyes growing wide as she drew away from the clearly sick cat. “I’m going to get Dustjump,” she meowed firmly.

“I don’t need Dustjump, I’m feeling fine–”

“What’s going on here?” Tidechaser’s deep mew cut into the conversation. “Can’t you two take this outside? You’re going to wake the whole den.”

“I think Foam is sick,” Spindlepaw meowed frantically. 

The large tom leaned over from his nest to sniff at Foam’s pelt. He recoiled with a hiss. “I smell greencough!” he growled. 

“Greencough? Is-is that bad?” Spindlepaw meowed. But she didn’t need an answer. The expression on Tidechaser’s face told her all she needed to know

“Fetch Dustjump. Now.”

Spindlepaw took off across camp without another word.

Spindlepaw paced back and forth outside of Dustjump’s den. As soon as she’d seen Foam, the old tabby molly had enlisted Tidechaser’s help in moving the sick cat into her den, away from the rest of the healthy cats. When Spindle had tried to follow them in, Tidechaser had barred her way.

“Stay back,” the pale tom had growled. “You can’t help here.”

Spindlepaw had wanted to protest, wanted to tell Tidechaser that he was her mentor, that she should be in there with him, but she knew that the tom would never be swayed by her pleas. Besides, a small voice in her mind whispered, he’s right. And so she paced, waiting for news of her mentor’s health. 

When Dustjump finally emerged from the den, Spindlepaw was on her in a heartbeat. “How is he? Is he going to be alright?”

Dustjump’s eyes were dark with worry. “I don’t know, Spindlepaw,” she admitted. “It’s very early in the season for greencough, but that’s what he has. It can be fatal if it isn’t treated.”

“But you can treat him, right?” Spindlepaw heard her voice crack with fear. She couldn’t lose Foam, not now. He was the cat that had saved her from the sinking ship, the cat that had taught her everything she knew, the cat who represented everything Spindlepaw hoped to someday be. 

“With the right herbs,” Dustjump meowed carefully, “I can help him along the path to recovery. But nothing is certain.” 

It wasn’t a promise, but it would have to do. Spindlepaw steeled herself, forcing her fur to lay flat. Foam had saved her life, once. Now it was her turn to save his. “Then what are we waiting for?” she meowed firmly. “Let’s go find some herbs.”

[taleofturtleclan]

Additional Information:

Former Mentor: Tidechaser

Former Apprentice: Spindlefleck

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 10

Spindlepaw wove through the undergrowth, ears pricked, pawsteps confident as she navigated the now familiar territory of the survivors along with the rest of her patrol. “Just one last border to check, and then we can head back,” Sand promised as the trees began to thin.

Spindlepaw twitched her ear to show that she had heard him, but didn’t speak. Honestly, she would be glad to return to camp. This had been a long, tiring patrol, but Spindlepaw had vowed to herself that she wouldn’t complain about any of her training since her mentor had recovered from Greencough, and so she kept her mouth shut.

“Wait!” The plea was distant, and Spindlepaw froze, ears straining to hear more. “Oh, please wait!” 

“Did you hear that?” Spindlepaw hissed to the rest of her patrol, but Tidechaser’s ears were already pricking to pick up the sound. 

“It’s coming from past our border,” Tidechaser meowed. “It’s no concern of ours.”

“Please don’t leave me alone out here!” 

“It sounds like someone needs help,” Sand pointed out. “We can’t just ignore them.”

“We could,” Tidechaser growled under his breath. “We don’t have any idea what the situation is.”

Spindlepaw pushed past the muttering tom along with the rest of the patrol. He might grumble about it, but he’d follow them. After a few more pawsteps, Foam tensed. “I smell blood,” he warned.

“Come on!” Sand took off at a sprint, not waiting to see if the other cats were following him. Spindlepaw was on his heels, she’d started moving before he gave the command. She pushed through the last of the forest’s undergrowth, out into the sandy dunes to find a strange stretch of flat, black stone. At this distance, the scent of blood was almost completely masked by the acrid tang of the strange path. She would have wondered if it were dangerous, but Sand bounded across it with no hesitation. He was already bending over a lump of fur on the side of the path. Spindlepaw began to creep across the path when a rough nudge from behind caused her to stumble. 

“Are you mad?” Tidechaser hissed, “You can’t just stand around in the middle of a Thunderpath. They’re not so dangerous if you cross them quickly, but if you linger, you could be dead in a heartbeat!”

Too frightened to be angry with the pale tom, Spindlepaw sprinted the rest of the way across the stone path to sit beside Sand and Foam along the edge of the path. The two toms were examining the cooling body of a ginger and gray cat, her fur scorched with strange black marks. She’d clearly only been dead moments, the warmth Spindlepaw could sense rising from the blood confirmed that much, but she already reeked of some strange, foreign scent similar to that of the black stone. 

“Twolegs!” Tidechaser spat in disgust, raising his chin and fluffing his fur. “Those furless, soft pawed freaks! This is why cats should never have anything to do with them!” 

Sand shot Tidechaser a baleful glare, ignoring him in favor of bowing his head over the dead molly’s corpse in a gesture of respect.

“Twolegs did this? But how?” Spindlepaw knew her meow was quiet and shaky, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything other than the dead cat before her. This must have been the cat she’d heard. Just a few moments ago, she’d been alive, speaking and pleading for something, and now she was a lifeless heap of fur on the side of this strange black rock. Gone, just like that. Spindlepaw could feel her breathing growing shallow.

“They hit her with one of those nasty, shiny beasts they command. They’re really fast, and I’m not sure they’re even fully alive, but when a twoleg gets inside of one, it comes to life and travels along these Thunderpaths, hunting any creature that dares to linger here,” Sand explained. “It seems like this molly’s housefolk left her here and went away in their monster. When she tried to follow them on the path, a different monster must have attacked her.”

Spindlepaw could feel herself beginning to tremble. She had no memories of any twolegs, but the way most of the cats in camp spoke of them, they were supposed to be kind, benevolent creatures, sometimes a little clueless and clumsy, but good-hearted over all. What sort of good-hearted creature could do this to such a loyal cat? “Why did they kill her?” Spindlepaw wailed, her vision beginning to blur. “Didn’t they know she was loyal to them? Didn’t they care?”

“...should get her out of here…”

“..too young to see…”

“...important she learns…”

She could distantly hear the other cats talking to each other, but her ears were beginning to ring with panic, and none of their words seemed to make sense. Suddenly, one of Foam’s strong paws drew her close into his soft chest fur. The big tom was forcing a purr, and the noise slowly brought Spindlepaw back to her senses.

“You’re alright, Spindlepaw,” Foam meowed softly. “I’m sorry you had to see this. It’s disturbing for all of us, but I didn’t know it would shake you so badly.”

“I just don’t understand,” she croaked, “this cat was loyal to the twolegs. Why would they hurt her? Are they really that cruel?”

“Yes,” Tidechaser growled. “Twolegs don’t care about a cat’s loyalty or friendship. When they’re done using us up or they grow bored of us, they just toss us out like we’re no better than spoiled fish. You can never trust them.”

“They’re not all like that,” Sand protested. “My housefolk were kind to me, and they had cared for my mother for seasons upon seasons before I was kitted. When I was born, they loved me as much as a kit from one of their own kin.”

“That’s one experience,” Tidechaser grumbled, “its not the rule.”

“There is no rule,” Sand snapped, “each twoleg is different, just like each cat…”As the two toms carried on bickering, Spindlepaw’s gaze fixed on the bloodied, lifeless body of the ginger and gray molly as she shook in Foam’s embrace. Privately, she thought she agreed with Tidechaser. She would never, ever trust a twoleg.

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 9

“Alright Foam, take a deep breath and hold it.” Foam obeyed, filling his lungs as much as he could, holding the air in. Dustjump, her ear pressed close to his chest, was silent. A heartbeat passed. Then another.

“Let the air out,” Dustjump instructed. 

The breath left Foam’s lungs with a sigh.

“Again,” Dustjump meowed.

Foam repeated the exercise, holding his breath. He could feel a bit of dust tickling his nose, but he couldn’t sneeze, not now. He closed his eyes tight, trying to ignore the sensation. This time, the exhalation came with a sense of relief as the dust drifted away from his nose. Dustjump pulled away from Foam’s chest, her eyes bright.

“Foam, you’re all better! You can return to light duties starting tomorrow. No long patrols, and stay out of the water until the half-moon.”

“You mean I don’t have greencough any longer?” Foam meowed.

“Yes,” Dustjump confirmed with a purr, “you’ve managed to recover. It can be a deadly disease, but you’re a young, healthy cat. If anyone would have been able to recover without herbs, it would have been you. Still, we should count our blessings. This was by no means a certain outcome.”

Brokenmast dragged himself out of his nest, over to Foam. “Congratulations!” He purred, butting his head against Foam’s shoulder. “I’ll miss having you around, though. Even if we did have to shout across the den to talk.”

“I promise I’ll visit you often,” Foam purred, “and before long, you’ll be able to move to the communal den as well.”

Brokenmast peered down at his splayed legs, focusing hard enough to tremble as he flexed each leg in turn, moving toes, ankle and knees. Over the last moon, his mobility in the limbs had improved remarkably, though they could not yet support his standing weight. “I hope you’re right,” Brokenmast meowed. “I’m really starting to believe it might be possible.”

“It is possible,” Dustjump cut in, “and you’re getting close.”

Brokenmast opened his jaws, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by a call from just outside the den’s entrance. “Dustjump, what’s the verdict?” Spindlepaw. Foam felt guilty, leaving her to her own ends these last few moons. Luckily, Shell had ensured she was always paired with another adult for training each day, so she hadn’t fallen too far behind, but still. Foam was supposed to be her mentor. He wanted to be the one to guide her training.

“You can come in, Spindlepaw,” Dustjump replied. “He’s all better.”

The little ginger cat came barreling into the den, fur fluffed with excitement. “Is he really?!” She exclaimed.“I am,” Foam purred, rising to his paws with a stretch. “We’ll resume your training tomorrow. I hope Shell hasn’t let you get too used to sleeping in.”

[taleofturtleclan]

To honor the full formation of TurtleClan, the remaining cats with one-part names have decided to adopt suffixes:

Foam->Foamfeather

Splash->Splashstone

Sand->Sandtail

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 11

Foam let Spindlefleck lean into his pelt, the way he’d done for her when they’d seen the dead kittypet on the Thunderpath. She needed him right now. It was easier to be strong when someone else needed him. Easier to stay calm when everyone around him was in a panic. Easier to be who, what they needed–a strong, solid presence in a churning sea of emotion. When was the last time he’d actually let himself fully feel his grief or fear or pain? Before the shipwreck, that much was certain. Was he being brave, or was he just finding a different way to run from his emotions? Maybe Tidechaser had rubbed off on him more than he’d ever admitted to himself before. Foam let his wide amber eyes flutter shut, breathing deeply as he let himself feel his own sadness and sense of loss for the first time in moons. Currentheart... it wasn't your time to go.