Iciclepool: This baby is now my baby. u are my other baby's sister now. come meet Shiverkit
Shiverkit: hi :3
AU where Rootkit is adopted by Iciclepool who wants to nurture kittens weaved into her BONES and finds her close to where she found Shiverkit. Iciclepool only names her Rootkit bc somehow Rootkit can remember this being her name (because in ForestClan's world, where Deep Root Entities are a Thing, it is normally horribly rude to name a kit after Roots lmao) Redstar is like "Iciclepool are we really adopting two kits in one day" "Yes. yes I am and there's nothing you can do about it"
Rootweave grows up with a "connection to StarClan" trait despite not becoming a med cat. BC of ForestClan's expanded roles, she actually becomes a warrior, but is better known for weaving baskets, toys, and making clay pots - she's a crafter!
Shiverstep has a near panic attack when Rootweave asks if she knows what the cat made of static with orange eyes is about. It keeps spending time around her - she's a cleric, right? is it StarClan?
Come nightfall, Daffodilpaw is shaking like a leaf - enough for Cloudthunder to notice. She asks her if there's something wrong. Daffodilpaw then bursts into tears. Owlpaw doesn't believe Deep Root entities are real. She was going to prove it. Owlpaw isn't in camp.
Cloudthunder was excited to finally have an apprentice - and for such a sweet and polite young cat too. Daffodilpaw was always shy and apprehensive, but she was still curious about the world around her. While lessons about the monsters in the woods disturbed her, as it should for anyone, she was always an attentive kit about retaining the procedures in case of lockdown, and repeating what to do in case of encountering something dangerous. All things considered, she was glad to have her as an apprentice, and she felt bad about Morningspot having to deal with Owlpaw. She never verbalized it, of course, but everyone knew that Owlpaw was just perpetually unpleasant towards others. Even the mollies' mother, Riversnow, had no defense for Owlpaw's behavior. She really tried to discipline her too; it's not like she didn't.
Which is why it sort of surprised her when Daffodilpaw didn't seem to share the same sentiment as everyone else.
"I bet you're glad you get to spend at least a little time away from your sister now, eh?" Cloudthunder said with a half-laugh.
Daffodilpaw tore her admiring gaze away from the color-changing leaves above them. She tilted her head at her mentor.
"I mean…I like spending time with you, and exploring, but…I wouldn't be mad if Owlpaw was here or anything." The apprentice's thoughts came out choppy.
Cloudthunder's tail flicked. "Doesn't she bully you? I saw how she treated you as a kit sometimes," she meowed.
Daffodilpaw sheepishly pawed at the leaf litter, looking away. "I mean…maybe? I dunno. I wouldn't call it bullying." The golden molly sat down, and Cloudthunder echoed the gesture attentively. Thoughts seemed to roil in Daffodilpaw's head, looking to be picked out like mats in fur. "I mean, she's rude sometimes. But she's not all bad. She can be nice. I think she just...doesn't know she's being mean sometimes."
Cloudthunder's ear twitched. Curious. She never had littermates, so she wasn't really sure how the bond between them worked. She gained some insight when she had her own kits, but they were never as hostile to other cats as Owlpaw was. She did find it strange that as the moons went by, Daffodilpaw went from being upset about Owlpaw's behavior to more…accepting, if she could even call it that.
"Well, even so, it's bad for ForestClan's unity to have resentment between clanmates, especially in these woods," Cloudthunder meowed as she stood back to her feet. "I hope that her training helps her feel less angry at others."
"Me too," Daffodilpaw said with a glint in her eyes.
And honestly? That was good. That was all there was to it. Cloudthunder was glad her apprentice was keeping a positive attitude and wasn't letting the words of others get under her skin. It was more than she could ever ask for. And for the next few days, Cloudthunder settled into a routine she enjoyed - she woke up early, helped make breakfast if needed, greeted her children and asked them if they slept well (Cottonpaw and Airpaw slept like logs, Deerpaw was a bit more restless), then recruited her apprentice to teach her how to do her chores and bring her on patrols, teaching her the lay of the land, hunting and battle.
Which is why, one evening, as the sun was setting, she knew something was wrong.
Daffodilpaw was tense since the morning. Her jaw was tight. She barely spoke. Her eyes were focused, but unreadable. She deflected when asked if anything was wrong. She insisted she was okay, just tired.
When the sun had set and the evening buzz around the Clan settled, with cats sharing tongues and cleaning up the last of their meal, it was clear something was wrong with Daffodilpaw. Cloudthunder glanced around camp to look for her, only to see her back as the young cat was staring at the camp walls.
Cloudthunder's ear twitched.
For a brief moment, an echo of pain rippled under her skin. A drifting memory of seeing her mother sitting at the top of the camp walls and weeping into the night.
Cloudthunder stepped away from the dying fire and approached her apprentice. Daffodilpaw was trembling.
"...Daffodilpaw? Is everything alright?" The warrior padded slowly around until she sat beside her.
Daffodilpaw was wide-eyed with terror. Cloudthunder failed to stop her neck fur from rising.
"Daffodil."
The apprentice's eyes were the same color as her mother's. And reflected the same look that Riversnow had the day she gave birth to them. Dread. Hopelessness.
Cloudthunder swallowed. "...It's going to be okay." She failed to hide her wavering. "But you have to say something."
Immediately, Daffodilpaw burst into tears, crouching on the floor and burying her tail between her legs. She blubbered a response. "It's my fault, it's my fault, I couldn't - I couldn't stop her, I couldn't - "
Daffodilpaw's high-pitched whines grabbed the attention of other cats, who whipped their heads in their direction.
"Shh, no, no it's not," Cloudthunder reassured with desperation. "Daffodilpaw, what happened?"
"I-It's Owlpaw," Daffodilpaw sobbed. "O-Owlpaw n-never wanted to be mean! She never wanted to b-be, b-but she felt - she - she didn't believe me, I tried to tell her that the monsters are real, b-but - "
More cats now stirred and started padding over with wide eyes and bristling pelts, and Cloudthunder felt like they were being cornered by a pack of dogs. She hissed instinctively, to the dismay of Riversnow, who hissed in return and was held back by Barleywave. The two mollies stared at each other in bewilderment from each other's reactions.
Daffodilpaw covered her eyes with her paws. "O-Owlpaw s-said that she never saw a Deep Root entity before in her entire life, a-and she said that we were all lying to her! T-The kits from outside were probably just abandoned, a-and Shiverstep and Brackenfreckle wanted to scare us and prove the adults' stories true, a-and Warblerkit probably wasn't real, a-and - "
Cloudthunder's heart was set on fire and her ears pumped with blood. Oh no. No.
It was dark. The horror she had when Cottonpaw and Deerpaw had vanished in the middle of the night returned to her.
No. StarClan, please, no.
"Daffodilpaw," Redstar stepped out of the crowd, tall and imposing, her voice cutting through the apprentice's rant. Her blue eyes were set ablaze. "What happened?"
Daffodilpaw looked up at Redstar, her ears flattening. "Owlpaw said s-she was going to prove herself to everyone, she was going to prove to me that the monsters aren't real by going out of camp at night the next day, and that I shouldn't tell anyone, but I - "
Cloudthunder felt the noise of camp blur around her. Instinctively, she dashed to the apprentice's den and looked inside, desperate to see pale ginger fur sulking in a lump within.
Owlpaw's nest was empty.
---
Owlpaw patrols angrily around the territory, bitter about the horrible stories of "the woods eating them" and monsters lurking. ForestClan were liars and cruel adults, telling horrible stories to keep kits in camp and scare apprentices. In another time, Owlpaw would be doing an apprentice trial right now.
Owlpaw hissed as she slashed her claws across a tree in passing. She felt the bark splinter off and fling into the overgrowth. Good. All of it was bulrush fluff anyway.
"Are you gonna come out of a burrow? Or drop from a tree? Huh?" Owlpaw snarled to the wind. Her tail thrashed as she walked down the tread path.
ForestClan were liars. All of them. Each and every single one of them, her mom and apparent dad included. The only one who probably wasn't, was her sister, who was just scared and blindly trusting. Maybe the three dark-furred kits were in the same boat. But the rest of them were mangy and foxhearted.
Owlpaw was going to defy them. Prove them wrong. There were no monsters in the stupid woods. She was six moons old, and had never seen a single monster in her entire life.
At first, she thought it was just stories to get them to behave. But then they went further than that. Redstar went into detail of what the monsters are like. What leaders did in the past to apprentices, throwing them to the woods. Oh, and she should feel so grateful that she lived now, and not back then. And they were serious about it.
She remembered when she was small, and naive, and genuinely believed this. Why wouldn't she? She trusted the adults around her to be honest. But she noticed it always came with…with stupid caveats. Well, if the woods are so dangerous, why are adults allowed out? If they're so dangerous, why does Redstar go out every night? Why did Windfur and Shiverstep leave at dusk every half-moon to go StarClan-knows-where? If the woods ate cats, why did they still live here? That last one always upset the adults, but she was right and it wasn't a mousebrained question! If there WERE actual dangers out here, why stay here? Why not leave? The fact that they meandered about 'culture' and 'preserving the memory of the lost Clans' pissed her off, and she hated it.
Owlpaw kicked up the leaf litter as she smelled the air around her. She smelled mud, and heard crickets.
It was…innocent. Natural.
Sadness mixed with the anger in her chest. She scowled at a nearby birch tree that had almost lost all of its leaves to the weather. She let out a snort.
"You're not a tree-thing that's going to eat me, are you?" Owlpaw approached it, nicking at the tree's paper-like bark with her claws. Her grey eyes flickered. "Do you have friends that are gonna eat me? Or maybe a big black plant that's going to melt my flesh?"
Silence.
"Nah. Of course not. You're just a birch tree." Owlpaw peeled a strip of the birch's bark, hearing the paper-like tear and watching as the thin bark curled on itself.
It was weak skin.
Owlpaw tossed aside the bark and padded into the undergrowth, towards the border that Morningspot showed her. Her mentor was annoying, but at least she made sure Owlpaw knew her way around.
Bulrush fluff…all bulrush fluff.
The thing that killed all doubt, was that Cottonpaw and Deerpaw went on a night patrol, and they came back home just fine. Oh sure, they said they were chased by some Fake Twoleg. But she bet that Twolegs weren't actually real either. She'd never seen one, and was never shown any proof of them existing, so why should she believe anything they say at this point? Cottonpaw and Deerpaw were taken aside by adults first anyway, so for all she knows, they were brought in on the truth and told them to lie.
That had to be the only rational explanation. Because if she lived in a world that evil…
Well, she didn't see a point in living in it.
"Well? Are you going to try and kill me? Yeah right, you aren't even real," she called out. Nothing replied, except for the bugs. She rolled her eyes and flicked her tail, trudging fearlessly through the undergrowth.
Owlpaw cringed as she picked up the weird, tangy smell that came from their border. Morningspot explained that Twoleg metal beasts came down it - what fun, another monster to the list - but that they were rare and didn't leave the path.
For a moment, she stared up and down the long, grey path that stretched out into the hilly trails. Her eyes narrowed. It was a very weird thing, in comparison to everything else. Probably the only real evidence of "monsters" she was ever shown. But of course, no actual showing of one.
Owlpaw hated the smell, so she went back into the undergrowth.
She wandered for a few minutes, letting the anger seep through her bones.
A Woodcrawler would've definitely killed her by now if they were real. She was practically free food.
"Hellooooo? Any Woodcrawlers? Fake Cats? I'm tooootally vulnerable, and all alone! Come get me, stupid foxdungs," she snarled.
Of course, nothing. As expected.
Why did they lie to her? What was the point? She was never going to be a kit forever. Why control them all like this? Why scare her and Daffodilkit like this? Surely, not all cats would agree to lying like that…right?
Owlpaw remembered when Morningspot took her out of camp for the first time. Brought her to a place close to the border. A place where the forest ended, and from an overlook, it turned into a flat, open field that stretched down into more woodland.
"We don't hunt in the plains. If you get here, turn back."
"Why?"
"Um…well, it's the end of the territory, so of course you'd turn back," Morningspot mumbled.
"No, mousebrain, why don't we hunt in the plains?" Owlpaw retorted.
Morningspot flinched. The older cat hesitated for a moment, before she mumbled, "There's…a lot of Woodcrawler dens down there. More than there are in the forest. I think it has to do with the Twoleg Greenleaf place next to it," Morningspot gestured to the blocky, triangular nests across the grey road.
"How do you know?"
Morningspot looked at her quizzically. Owlpaw's eyes narrowed, and she repeated her question.
"How do you know?"
Morningspot blinked, then stared at her feet. "...Cats have died hunting in there."
"You've seen, or you've heard?"
Owlpaw wanted to claw her mentor's face off when Morningspot just stared at the apprentice and repeated again that cats died in there, and that Owlpaw would be hurt - or worse - if she tried. Owlpaw only resisted because Morningspot gave her the most pathetic-looking stare she'd ever seen in a cat, as she practically begged her not to run into the field. Owlpaw could cross the road, go to the lake, climb a tree, do literally anything else, but she begged her to not step into the field.
Owlpaw failed to suppress a snarl as she remembered the path they took. To foxdung with this. The field didn't have dens. She'd prove it. Her tail thrashed as she pushed aside ferns and scrambled over fallen logs and branches, muttering angrily to herself.
"The adults can't lie to me anymore, you know!" she yowled. Owlpaw hissed as she ducked underneath a fallen branch and started to approach the small hill that would overlook the field. "I know the....the...."
Owlpaw stopped.
She trailed off as her eyes cast through the treeline, revealing strips of the sky on the horizon.
In between the gaps, far where the field should be; bright, shining lights hovered listlessly. She thought they were stars, at first. But then they swayed, ever so slightly, like the flickering of fire. And they were big.
…Did…they ever mention lights before…?
A flicker of hesitation shot through her chest. Maybe? She…only really remembered the ones that gave her nightmares. Woodcrawlers, Nature's Mockery, Fake Cats, Living Tendrils…she stopped paying attention to lessons after a certain point, believing it was all just lies to scare them.
Daffodilpaw would know. Daffodilpaw paid attention to everything. Sometimes she resented her for it. But for a brief second, she wished that she was here with her.
But of course Daffodilpaw didn't want to come. She was too scared. Believed whatever everyone said.
The lights didn't move. They continued to gleam in the dark of the night.
Why does she feel like they're...looking at her?
Owlpaw took a single step back.
A trickle of fear.
"They're just lights." She said this, trying to convince herself. If…monsters did exist, this probably wasn't one of them. These were just stupid lights. They weren't even doing…anything…
The lights shined…
What was…
Owlpaw fled.
----
A patrol is immediately made to search for Owlpaw.
Owlpaw had been gone for thirty minutes, as per Daffodilpaw. That wasn't very long. There was still a chance.
ForestClan made a desperate patrol to search for Owlpaw. Redstar knew they were on a time limit. The night was dangerous. Should she risk her clanmate's lives to try and save just one cat? Her clanmates decided for her. Riversnow insisted she had to go, and no one would deny her. In a rush, Hopechase, Tree, Riversnow and Riftgorse started tracking Owlpaw's scent.
Luckily, Owlpaw's presence was not difficult to trace - her scent practically radiated on the trail.
"She must've been thrashing her tail a lot," Riftgorse commented. The patrol was tense - safe for Riversnow, who plowed ahead, powered by adrenaline.
"Owlpaw? Owlpaw!" she yowled.
"Careful," Tree suppressed a growl. Riversnow whipped around, bristling.
"Careful of what?" she hissed.
"It won't help Owlpaw if we're detected by giant spiders on the way," Tree stated flatly.
This did not help. Riftgorse winced as Riversnow called again, "OWLPAW! GET BACK HERE NOW! PLEASE!"
Hopechase said nothing, focused on the task. There was a solemnity that loomed over the dark cat's back. She padded quickly along the scent trail, finding that it stopped near a birch tree. She tasted the air and placed her paw on the tree, finding that a strip of its bark was cut.
"She passed through here," Hopechase said as she went through the parted grasses.
"Watch your surroundings," Tree commented. Hopechase felt Tree was saying this more for themselves than for her.
Before any of them could register what was happening, the undergrowth thrashed in the distance. Something was charging through the bushes. Hopechase bristled and -
Owlpaw barreled into Riftgorse, faceplanting to the ground with a terrified screech. Riftgorse screamed as he scrambled back to his feet, Tree hissed and Riversnow exploded.
"OWLPAW! Oh, stars above - "
Owlpaw's grey eyes were filled with otherworldly terror, tears streaming down her face as she could barely blubber anything out of her mouth.
"T-T-The lights - they're - they're after me, the light - "
Riversnow bristled to the size of a porcupine, her voice filled with pain and relief as she towered over her daughter and snarled. "How dare you! How dare you do this to me, to your sister, you could've died!"
"M-Mom -"
"This is the single stupidest thing you've ever done in your entire life, and you've done a lot of stupid, horrible things!"
Owlpaw trembled, her gaze darting everywhere until she stared up at her mother, tail tucked and shrinking. "T-The lights - "
"Enough!" Riversnow hissed, bending down and scruffing Owlpaw like a kit again, practically dragging her on the floor. Owlpaw's eyes were wide, and this time she pleaded and yowled like a kit.
"Mom, mom, NO! The lights! They're following me!"
"Lights?" Riftgorse chimes in, bristling.
Tree's mind worked quickly, staring out beyond the territory. Their ears swiveled. "Luring Lights. She must've seen the field near the Twolegplace."
"NO! It was a monster, a m-monster with a light on - " Owlpaw barely wrenched herself from Riversnow's grasp before Riversnow snarled in frustration.
"Luring Lights do NOT MOVE, Owlpaw!" Riversnow hissed.
Hopechase paused.
A thought came to her. She froze. All relief, all hope, all feeling washed away from her body. She refused to look at the rest of her clanmates, focused on the treeline.
"Owlpaw. Are you sure you saw a light moving towards you?"
The entire patrol stopped and stared. Hopechase's voice had shifted to a tone they've never heard coming from her. Owlpaw didn't notice, blurting out in desperation.
"YES! T-The light was its face!"
Hopechase's blue eyes widened. The air around them turned cold. Quietly, with the fear and dread of a thousand generations of cats, she whispered, "Gardener."
"...What?" Riftgorse whispered.
Suddenly, from the woods, there was a thud. A crashing of branches. The crickets stopped singing.
Then, a hollow groan broke through the trees, echoing against the pines.
AND FROM THE DARKNESS, THERE WAS LIGHT.
"Gardener. Run. RUN!"
Hopechase screeched, bolting up the trail. The patrol sprinted after her, adrenaline and horror spiking through them. Hopechase howled a warning call far before camp could ever hear them. "GARDENER! GARDENER!"
Light scattered between the shadows of evergreens, illuminating patches of undergrowth like an alien star. The spotlight shifted rapidly, threatening to cast itself on the cats sprinting below. A frayed, electric noise pulsed from its head. Leaves were crushed beneath branch-like feet as it trampled down the path like a Twoleg monster.
"GARDENER! HIDE, HIDE, HIDE! NOW!" Hopechase's voice screeched like claws on metal. "GARDENER!"
Owlpaw hyperventilated as she charged forward. Riftgorse, Tree and Riversnow were bristling from head to toe. The camp walls came in the distance.
"GARDENER! GARDENER! NO TIME, NO TIME!"
Hopechase found a reserve of energy and dashed far forward ahead of everyone. The Clan must've heard the senior warrior's screaming, as everyone had already herded themselves into Redstar's den; Perchwatcher, Brakenfreckle and Olive all carried one of the three kits, and Shiverstep's shape slunk by Windfur's side. Redstar and Cloudthunder were straggling behind, preparing to close the gate once the patrol came in.
"FORGET THE GATE! GO!" Hopechase screamed as she barreled through.
Hopechase had suddenly become ForestClan's leader; Redstar and Cloudthunder scrambled down and headed to the den. Redstar had never heard Hopechase this frightened. "Hopechase, what - "
Hopechase pulled something that hid beside the High Rock - a plank of bound twigs that made a large, square door.
"Go, go!" she yowled as she shoved Redstar.
Owlpaw, Riversnow, Tree and Riftgorse dived through the gate and up to the den.
The second Redstar and Cloudthunder entered, Hopechase sealed the entrance with the plank. It barely covered it in its entirety. The plank's age showed; scattered with cracks and insect-forged holes.
"Hopechase?" Redstar started.
Owlpaw whined. Daffodilpaw wailed with relief at her sister's presence.
"What's going on?" Blackkit squealed from behind Brackenfreckle, panting with fear.
"Quiet." Hopechase hissed, abruptly silencing every cat huddled within. The whole Clan's eyes landed on the senior warrior, and watched as her claws sank into the floor, her eyes filled with dread. Redstar stared at her friend intensely.
"Hope…"
"Be quiet. Do not move." Her voice trembled. "No matter what happens, do not leave this den."
Owlpaw and Daffodilpaw buried themselves into each other's pelts with eyes squeezed shut. Owlpaw pressed her paws down on her muzzle, trying to silence her rapid breathing. Riversnow stood over her children protectively, glaring at the shoddy plank door. Barleywave padded in front, placing himself between the door and his family. His hazel eyes were glazed with distant terror.
Another thundering step.
Nectarkit squeaked. Shadekit swatted at her, and she flattened and covered her mouth.
A loud, reverberating groan.
Iciclepool pressed against Shiverstep, copper eyes glaring. Shiverstep's gaze fell on Tree, as though they held answers.
Redstar's pelt bristled as she heard part of the camp wall collapsing. The groan transformed into a high-pitched, electric whine. Yellow light leaked through the plank's cracks in scattered rays.
ForestClan recoiled further into the den. The kits made suppressed cries. No one tried to silence them.
The Gardener's light did not move. Redstar stared at it. Waiting. Bracing.
A low hum came from it. It tore its gaze from the leader's den, scanning its surroundings. A fragile hope rippled through the cats huddling in the dark. If it didn't see them, if it didn't know they were here…
Redstar heard stomping like a moose' hooves around the campsite. The shadows of spider-like legs were cast on the door as it caught the Gardener's light.
Redstar didn't know how long she and her Clan hid. Fear-scents exploded whenever the light glanced over their bunker's door. Every few minutes, it seemed like the Gardener stepped on another part of their camp. Destroyed another den.
Redstar felt her claws sink into the ground. She fought the rage building in her bones, soaking through her skin. This thing was defiling their home.
She heard stories. She had never seen a Gardener in her life. She was afraid and vengeful. She wanted to do something.
Maybe…maybe she could distract it. She could dash out, make it chase her out of camp. The idea lit a fire in her heart. Yes. Yes, that was a good plan. She could dash quickly, cause noise, leap over the camp walls, and pull its attention away…
She turned her head to Iciclepool and Hopechase.
Iciclepool saw the look in her eyes. She shook her head quickly and mouthed 'no', pleading. Redstar felt the corners of her mouth curl to a silent snarl.
The two bristled as Hopechase planted unsheathed claws on Redstar's shoulder. She vehemently, slowly, shook her head, her eyes reflecting a will that rivalled StarClan's endless sky. Redstar tried to pull away. Hopechase only dug them deeper, and for a split second, the ForestClan leader saw a quiet, unforgiving anger in the molly's eyes.
Redstar briefly remembered the cat that agreed to assassinate Lakestar. And reluctantly, she sheathed her claws and flattened her fur.
Time marched at a turtle's pace. Perhaps purposefully. The Gardener was pacing around them. Finally, the sound of massive steps marched past the leader's den - above and over the camp walls behind them. Darkness reclaimed the night.
And yet, Hopechase whispered, "It's not gone. Quiet."
They obeyed.
The tension was thick. Cats that usually argued, huddled closer. No one took their eyes off the plank.
Finally, after a time that felt like eons, Shiverstep trembled.
She felt dazed. Weak. Her greencough made it difficult for her to focus. She could feel it again. A force, piercing the back of her head forcefully, without want, without care. She tried to resist it - but it was too fast, and overwhelmed her. Her skin crawled like insects and she felt her eyes locked on the flimsy door. Her mouth opened. She whispered gently, coldly, like a taken life.
A long pause. A few cats turned to stare at Shiverstep.
Knock, knock, knock.
Heads whipped to the entrance, mouths agape in silent screams.
Knock….knock.
It moved higher above, on the hollow stump itself. The tapping had no rhythm. It was like a kit batting at a dead mouse to see if it would move again.
Knock, knocknocknocknocknock.
Sound wrapped itself at all sides. ForestClan pulled themselves off from the walls, the kits suppressed their mews, merging in the center. Redstar stared at the ceiling above as dirt loosened -
Knock. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK -
"Adam Levitch. Answered the door. Barry Johnson. Answered the door. Truman Michaels. Answered the door," Shiverstep rattled irrationally.
"Do not leave the den. Do not leave the den," Hopechase hissed under gritted teeth, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.
"Bethany Newman. Alec Davidson. Dorothy Bates. Vessels. It asked to enter."
A loud shift from above -
"Do not answer the knocking at the door."
CRACK!
An otherworldly cry emitted from over the den. Legs thrashed on the camp ground and the spotlight waved around frantically. The monstrous thing screeched before the sound of its steps grew further and further away, until the flicker of light dimmed and vanished altogether.
The darkness of the night blanketed upon them once more.
The stunned silence eventually broke with the song of a whip-poor-will, and the return of gentle crickets. Hopechase seemed surprised, which did not comfort Redstar.
"Hopechase?"
"...I...I think it's gone."
A collective breath was released. The kits began wailing. Cats collapsed on their bellies, panting. Shiverstep was...
Oh StarClan, was she unconscious?
"Windfur?" Iciclepool called nervously, her paws already feeling around her daughter's ears. Windfur bristled, wordlessly checking her pulse.
"Alive," he meowed.
Redstar suppressed a growl. She had to make sure. She had to...Redstar swallowed, then slowly placed a trembling paw on the makeshift door.
Hold it together. Breathe.
Redstar inhaled through her nose. Then pushed it a crack and stared outside. She glanced around camp and felt her heart sinking deeply into her chest. From the darkness, she could make out the gaps in the camp walls, and the indents in the warriors' den. She swallowed, suddenly understanding why Hopechase screamed at them not to bother with the gate.
She had heard of Gardeners before. But Redstar lived on this earth for almost seven years now, and had never seen one. She believed her elders when they told stories about them. They lived surrounded by Fake Beings and Infected Predators, and balls of light hovering over open Woodcrawler dens. Reports of a towering Woodcrawler with a light for a face was not farfetched in the slightest. But it had been so long since one was last seen that she...
Redstar swallowed as she realized that the procedure to deal with them had fallen away in the chaos. She knew the lockdown procedure. The Clan knew it. But in the panic of it all, it escaped her grasp. Knowledge that was fleeting beyond theory and rote memorization. That weakness - fear that overwhelmed her reason...
Redstar pushed open the door.
Slowly, cats tiptoed to stare out at the camp. Moans of pain and meows of worry rippled as they surveyed the damage around them - west wall collapsed, warrior's den caved in, gate pulleys ripped apart on one side. There were multiple holes scattered across camp, undoubtedly the Gardener's pointed appendages having left them behind. It wasn't completely clear what the full extent of the damage was, but a fire and some torches would need to be lit to see what was wrong.
Hopechase stared at the rest of the camp walls, collecting her thoughts. "...It's in better shape than I expected."
"Hey, Redstar?"
Redstar turned to the voice that called her, and was surprised to see Tree sitting close to where the previous cooking fire was stationed. Redstar winced as she saw their drying rack had been destroyed, but something told her that Tree wasn't addressing her about it. She cautiously approached the cat.
"I think I found what chased it off," Tree meowed.
Redstar's tail twitched, remembering the noise that seemed to frighten the Gardener. "...What is it?"
Tree stepped aside, gesturing with their tail the remains of their cooking fire.
...The fire. They were so alarmed they forgot to extinguish the cinders.
Something akin to a sharp stone was embedded into the middle of it. Redstar brought her muzzle as close as she dared. Her nose wrinkled. She recoiled. Ears twitching, she asked, "What is that?"
The remains of stringy, red roots wilted around the hot cinders. They smelled like acid and rotten flesh. Chunks of flimsy, bark-like skin were charring around it. Tree met Redstar's gaze solemnly.
"I don't know for sure. But if that...thing, whatever it was, was related to Woodcrawlers..." Tree pointed a claw at the faint tooth-like shape of the indented object. "...Then this might be its foot. It stopped paying attention to where it was stepping when it..." Tree swallowed, opting not to finish. They put their paw down, eyes narrowed. "...Luck. Sheer, complete luck that this was still here. And that there was enough heat in those cinders to ignite its tendons."
For the first time in a long, long time, Redstar felt numb.
How fragile they really, truly were.
As the sounds of crying kits and distressed clanmates echoed all around her in the middle of the night, as she replayed the memory of the Gardener tapping at her den as though it could chase them out, she realized that she couldn't keep pretending to the kits that Deep Root entities were just dangerous animals. Her ears folded back. She closed her eyes.
Tonight, she needed to make sure her clanmates slept. Or at least tried to. Any kind of discipline or conversation would be lost on the stress of the evening. Shiverstep especially needed to be looked over - her behavior tonight was...abnormal. But that was a conversation for when she was conscious.
Tomorrow, ForestClan would talk. And rebuild.
---
1 gif was made using a clip from Remy Abode’s “Gemini Home Entertainment”, episode titled “CAMP INFORMATIONAL VIDEO”.
SOURCE: (X)
Redstar is finally cured of whitecough, and for once, she decided that her anxiety was due to her being confined and unable to see the fruits of their procedure changes correctly. She was ready to participate in her Clan again, starting with some promotions.
Airpaw has graduated early, after moons of being diligent in his training and passing and early assessment, now named Airswift. He feels proud of himself, although he sees his sisters are somewhat jealous of his early promotion.
Wanting to keep the peace, he pads to up his sisters and says that he's really sorry they're not with him. He points out that Redstar and Riversnow were in the medicine den for a while, and that didn't help their training. Cottonpaw perks up upon realizing that, saying they'll get there eventually and congratulates Airswift, but Deerpaw just stares at her paws.
Blackpaw is apprenticed to Riftgorse, and Shadepaw was apprenticed to Perchwatcher. Both young cats seemed competent and eager to teach, especially Perchwatcher, and Riftgorse's outgoing personality might help Blackpaw feel more confident in herself.
And as for Nectarpaw - the molly hesitantly asked Redstar before the ceremony if she could learn to be a mediator like Olive. Redstar asks Olive, who happily agrees to take her on.
...However, when Redstar, Barleywave and Olive had a chat over fresh kill, Olive made a passing joke about Redstar trying to play matchmaker with her daughter. Barleywave laughed, but Redstar is very confused.
"Very subtle of you, Redstar. I didn't expect you to play matchmaker with my daughter."
Redstar lifted her head up from her meal, looking perplexed. A flicker of defensiveness passed through her until she saw Olive's warmhearted expression.
Barleywave was tending to the stew boiling over the fire, and he let out a mrrow of amusement. "Oh yeah! Good eye on that one, Redstar," he purred.
She paused for a second, before her blue eyes narrowed in confusion. "...What?"
Olive's ear twitched. She looked at her quizzically. "...Wait, was that not on purpose?"
"...I repeat, what?" Redstar emphasized.
Olive blinked back with surprise. "Oh! I'm so sorry. Did you not notice Riftgorse was always offering to join patrols with Perchwatcher? Really, he was always finding some kind of excuse to spend time with her."
Barleywave's whiskers twitched. "I thought you at least would've noticed Perchwatcher saving him chipmunks - he said those were his favorites and she's made sure to catch a few since then."
"...No?" Redstar's face scrunched. "Wait, how am I involved in this again?"
"Well, you gave Shadepaw to Perchwatcher and Blackpaw to Riftgorse. We assumed you did that on purpose," Barleywave replied.
Redstar looked at him blankly, still not understanding. Barleywave gestured vaguely and rambled, "Like, you know! Two apprentices will have to learn things together and all that, so their mentors will have to hang out together at the same time, and all that…"
"That's not what I had in mind at all."
Olive's whiskers twitched in amusement. "A happy accident, then."
Redstar sighed and rolled her eyes. She never understood romance.
---
Iciclepool and Hopechase have been sickeningly lovey-dovey all week, bonding with each other as they stand watch over their children playing.
Shadepaw got yellowcough, before passing it to Tree. Both are confined to the medicine den. Shiverstep offers to help groom a spot that's been bothering Tree, especially since they're sick.
Shiverstep was not feeling well at all for the past few weeks. Physically, she was fine. Mentally, she felt like the universe hollowed out her spirit.
Ever since she last saw Rootgrove at the Half-Moon Dome, she felt like she was just waiting for something bad to happen all the time, and it often did. Her greencough. The Gardener. Riversnow's injury. Her mother's stillborn kit. She didn't know what would happen next, and it made her anxious.
The only cat who seemed to lower her anxiety whenever they spoke, was Tree.
Tree was a kind cat. She was grateful for their presence in her life. Ever since she was an apprentice, Tree enjoyed the company of the medics. They liked coaxing answers to herb-related curiosities out of her and Windfur, and rarely rejected joining an herb-collection patrol. Tree became a regular presence near the medicine den, and Shiverstep enjoyed it. She eventually realized it meant a lot to her. Windfur and Brackenfreckle were reserved cats, and didn't do small talk. Shiverstep didn't realize how isolated she felt while working, and while others were certainly happy to speak to her, she felt like only her mother, and Tree really sought her company.
Tree was always interesting to talk to - they always had a story to share. She loved new stories - and Tree always seemed to have one. It started small, during her time as an apprentice - they gave her brief fables they heard from their own family, and into her adulthood, they delved into more mature or complex subjects. She cherished them all.
She remembered fondly teaching them one of her many nursery rhymes for the uses of honey, and after Tree jokingly butchered the melody and added their own lyrics, the two cats shared a genuine laugh. Tree purred, their whiskers twitching with mirth.
"Thank you for entertaining my constant curiosities, Shiverstep."
"Of course. You're always welcome to talk, Tree," she replied.
"I'm happy to hear it! I presume every medic is tired of my same old stories at this point."
"Oh, no! I enjoy them a lot." Shiverstep's tail raised high. "I always like hearing stories."
"And I'm glad to have a friend willing to listen to them," Tree answered with a purr. Shiverstep's heart swelled and her tail flicked, feeling a surge of excitement. All at once her thoughts were scattered - a friend. Did she have a genuine friend before? She blinked slowly at them, and for the rest of the day, she felt lighter. There was someone in the Clan who genuinely called her a friend - something, maybe, that she was missing.
She cherished her memories with Tree a lot. When Sparrowkit failed to be resuscitated, and those beyond StarClan didn't - maybe couldn't, in retrospect - respond, she held onto simple truths to grant her comfort. Her name was Shiverstep. The sun would rise in the morning. She was alive. And Tree was her friend.
Which is why she couldn't help but feel anxious when Tree caught yellowcough.
They only started showing symptoms shortly after Shadepaw. They couldn't make it five steps out of their den without coughing, prompting Windfur to confine them to the medicine den. Riversnow was relocated back to the warrior's den on strict bed rest, in order to prevent a sickness outbreak.
It wasn't too bad, at first. But both Tree and Shadepaw's symptoms worsened over two days, and it hurt to see them try and force their breathing.
Shiverstep was trying to keep a brave face. She set her clay teapot over a small stove she prepared in the corner of the medicine den. She hoped that hot steam would help relieve the sinuses of her Clanmates - a brew of lungwort and tea leaves would help. At least, she hoped. That's what helped with yellowcough, right?
"Wishing well, wishing well, I have a wish to wish you well, I need an herb, to tame a bug..." she muttered to herself under her breath.
"I need a sign, to cure the lungs?"
Shiverstep startled as she heard Tree rasp this flatly from their sickbed. They gave a slow blink in reassurance.
"Heard it from you before," they said simply. Shiverstep's ears flattened at how haggard they sounded. She felt a pain roil in her chest.
"You should be resting," she meowed.
"I am, though."
"Sleeping, more precisely."
"A bit hard to do that right this second," Tree replied. They turned away quickly before bursting into a brief fit of coughs. Shiverstep's heart tightened with worry.
"Are you okay?"
"Well, as okay as I can be," they answered before tucking their paws beneath them. Tree's tail flicked as they tried forcing air out of their nose. The sound came through restricted and taut. They groaned. "Appreciate your nose while it's working."
"I will. I understand the pain," she answered, remembering her greencough. Greencough affected her throat more than her nose, but it still blocked it for quite some time. With renewed eagerness, she returned to the boiling pot and grabbed a clay bowl. She carefully took a piece of leather cloth and draped it over the handle of the pot before grabbing it by the teeth and gently tilting it into the bowl.
"Making tea?" Tree asked.
"Yes," Shiverstep answered. She glanced at Shadepaw at the back of the den. The apprentice was asleep - a good thing, she thought. He complained for several hours about not being able to sleep without breathing from his nose. Now his mouth hung open, his body having surrendered to exhaustion. "I was going to offer some to Shadepaw, but he's sleeping now. Maybe later." Shiverstep gently put down the pot, and nudged the bowl of tea across the medicine den floor, until it was by Tree's head.
Tree slowly leaned down, but Shiverstep placed a paw on their forehead. "Oh! Be careful, it's very hot right now. The steam should be nice to inhale, though," she said with a small smile. Tree gave a grin in return, one that made Shiverstep's heart swell.
Tree rolled their eyes. "Yes, ma'am," they teased.
"Ma'am? Forgive me for preventing you from burning your tongue," she piped up. Tree let out a brief mrrow of amusement before placing their muzzle near the bowl's edge to breathe the steam. After a few moments, Shiverstep's tail twitched.
"Is there anything else I can do to help you?"
"Well…" Tree started, then stopped, their green eyes pensive. Shiverstep waited eagerly, but they shook their head. "No, nevermind. Not a good plan."
"What is it?" the cleric pressed.
"I think there's a mat next to my right ear, but it's really not a good idea for anyone to get near my face at the moment," Tree replied sheepishly. "I've been trying to find a way to get it out myself."
"I can help!" Shiverstep nearly jumped behind them. Tree recoiled away from her.
"Shiverstep, no, I'm sick. You'll catch this."
"Tree, I'm a cleric. It's my responsibility to help patients, even if it also puts me at risk," she protested.
"Shiver, come on, be reasonable. It's just one mat."
"Tree, do you remember the story of Finchquill?"
"Ah, don't start with that one," Tree groaned.
"But it's a good lesson! Sometimes a small sacrifice can mean the world to another," Shiverstep meowed. She tried to reach down, but Tree swatted her paw away.
"By that logic, I should make sure you're not sick, even if I have this annoying mat," Tree argued.
"Tree, I'm in the medicine den most of the day. Between you and Shadepaw, if I catch it, so be it. We have enough lungwort to last."
Tree hesitated. The tip of their tail tapped against the floor. "...You sure?"
"I'll make it quick, Tree. Promise," Shiverstep offered with a smile. After a few more seconds, Tree sighed, then brought their head back down to the steaming tea.
"Okay. Be careful," they warned.
She didn't need to be told twice. Shiverstep brought her paws near the back of their ear and searched for the mat. When she found it, she began grooming it out, gently passing her tongue across to dislodge the tangled hairs. Little by little, she used a claw to gently cut away the knots.
Tree seemed to relax, closing their eyes and finding brief rest. Shiverstep continued to work, allowing her mind to wander.
Tree was kind to be worried about her. But she wanted Tree to be okay. If this would help, she would do it.
…It was nice. Tree's fur was dense with the smell of pine, earth and river water. A slight tinge of campfire. Shiverstep's ears turned warm. Tree was…was like the memory of the forest around them. Despite the monsters out there, it still stood around them - tall and defiant. Stable. Strong. Even in leafbare, where the forest trees were silent and resting, there was the promise of return in spring. Tree was loyal to other cats. They protected Riversnow from Stone. They protected the camp from tendrils. They saved her from the Woodcrawler…
Shiverstep's thoughts went quiet as she kept working through the mat, until finally, she managed to cut it away completely. She gently pulled the mat out and threw it in their disposal basket. Softly, she said, "All done."
Tree let out a grunt, their eyes narrowed open. "Thanks. I appreciate it a lot, Shiver."
Shiverstep's heart thundered. "You're welcome."
"...So, think I can drink this now?" Tree asked, pointing their nose to the tea.
"Oh! Yes, it should be ready."
Shiverstep sheepishly tended to her herb stocks as she heard Tree gently lapping the tea.
---
Cloudthunder approaches Tree, gifting them with a meal made of their favorite prey. For some reason, Shiverstep feels a pang as Tree seems receptive to Cloud's gift.
After a few more minutes of silence, Shiverstep heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the outside. She assumed it was just Windfur, and kept minding her tasks.
She was surprised when, after the sound of the drying ferns parting, Tree spoke.
"Oh, Cloudthunder!"
Shiverstep veered around to see the pale grey and white warrior that had entered the den. The smell of roasted mouse and stew wafted from a small basket she carried in her mouth. Cloudthunder's copper eyes beamed. "Hi Tree. And you too, Shiverstep," she meowed with a small bow. "It's lunch time!"
"Oh, is it?" Shiverstep chirped, hiding her nervousness. She…she forgot.
"Yup! I know you're busy, so I brought you some roasted mouse, if you'd like. It has a hint of portabello," she said, putting down the basket and unravelling a small leather wrapping. Cloudthunder pushed it towards Shiverstep with a twitch of her whiskers. "You and Windfur are always getting lost in your work. You should join us next time."
Shiverstep's heart sank. She guessed she had been fairly stressed lately. She took a bite out of the mouse. "Thank you, Cloudthunder. I'll try."
"Good. I also brought some for Shadepaw, but it looks like he's sleeping," she said as she pulled another bundle of leather. Shiverstep gingerly took it and tucked it away from her herbs, near the tea kettle.
"I'll make sure he has some," she reassured.
"And for you, Tree," Cloudthunder lifted a bowl from the basket and pushed it over towards them. Tree brightened, their pupils dilated with curiosity.
"Oooh, is this a recipe of yours?"
"Oh, I wish," Cloudthunder purred, her tail twitching. "Barleywave was on cooking duty today, but Daffodilpaw helped! I requested a soup or stew using bits of vole today, just for you."
"Vole? My favorite, just for me? Aw, Cloud," Tree let out a brief purr, before being interrupted by a series of coughs. They looked embarassed, shaking their head out. "Oof! Sorry."
Cloudthunder winced. "Nothing to be sorry about, Tree. I'm sorry about your yellowcough, that must be awful. Figured this soup would help make it a bit more bearable."
"Ah, soup and tea, I'm a spoiled cat today," Tree joked.
Cloudthunder mrrowed in amusement before glancing at Shiverstep. "How's your stash of lungwort?"
"Um…fine. Windfur and I collected a lot of it before the frost started to set in," the cleric answered.
"That's good. Let me know if you need anything else. Snow might come in soon, I feel," she meowed. Shiverstep nodded. She turned away and decided to take a few more bites out of her food.
Tree practically slurped the soup they were gifted, causing Cloudthunder to laugh.
"Slow down there, Fleetfoot," the molly teased.
"And allow a gift from such a pretty molly go to waste? Be reasonable," Tree quipped with a wink. Cloudthunder's skin turned pink under all her fur, scoffing and batting away at the air dismissively.
"Oh, stop that, you know I can't swat at the sickly," she retorted, failing to hide a grin on her face.
"Great StarClan, whatever will you do now? I guess you'll have to tolerate my compliments," Tree chuckled.
Shiverstep slowly turned away, resuming her herb counting. She listened to Tree and Cloudthunder share flirty banter before they shifted to more polite conversation. Tree turned away to avoid spreading sickness, and Cloudthunder recounted recent events and procedure changes that were being considered. Tree congratulated Cloudthunder on her son's early graduation. Cloudthunder beamed with pride for her children.
Shiverstep slowly tuned the conversation out. Her heart sank. For some reason, her appetite went away. She stared at her half-eaten food and slowly wrapped it up, not wanting Cloudthunder to see it. Eventually, Shadepaw stirred awake from the noise, and Shiverstep gingerly gifted him the roasted mouse and a bowl of her tea. Shadepaw just glared at Tree and Cloudthunder in annoyance, as though wishing they would banter elsewhere. Shiverstep didn't tell Cloudthunder to leave, though. She…she made Tree happy.
Finally, Cloudthunder must've realized she dawdled too long. She wished goodbye to Shiverstep and Tree, her tail held high as she left. Tree curled up in their bedding, letting out a prolonged purr before eventually falling asleep for a sunhigh rest.
Meanwhile, Shiverstep felt her heart sinking. She felt…strange. Why did she feel almost…sad? She didn't get it.
Cloudthunder was a good cat. A pang of guilt coursed through her. Why did she feel like this?
After a few moments of numbness, Shiverstep hissed quietly to herself and shook her head. StarClan, what was wrong with her? Cloudthunder was just being kind to everyone. And yes, she spoke with Tree for a while. Why did that matter? Tree was a good cat to be with. She liked being with Tree, of course others would too. And, yes, sure, Shiverstep wasn't an ignorant kit - she knew what flirting looked like. Great StarClan, so maybe Tree had feelings for Cloudthunder! That was completely reasonable and totally fine, it's not like Shiverstep hadn't seen them act like this before. So why was she acting like she -
She…
Oh.
Oh no.
Shiverstep went outside and stared at a wall for twenty minutes. Brackenfreckle saw Shiverstep today but didn't get to say hello. Shiverstep seemed...busy.
Barleywave decides to take out Airpaw for hunting, since Iciclepool has been confined to the nursery. Barleywave asks if Airpaw wants a friendly competition, and try to bring back the most prey items back to camp. Barleywave is happy to see a healthy amount of boasting from the young tom, given his usual quietness.
Cottonpaw and Perchwatcher do their best to include Owlpaw. Owlpaw wants to just hide, but Morningspot said something dumb about effort, or trying, or whatever...
Owlpaw is shocked when Morningspot isn't mad with her. Morningspot does, however, ask that she walk away entirely and tell her instead next time it happens. She also asks that she say sorry to Perchwatcher for yelling, when she's feeling less angry.
Riftgorse, Branchsnarl and Perchwatcher go on a hunting patrol together. The two toms comfort Perchwatcher for what happened in camp...but they do put something tactfully that Perchwatcher needed to hear.
It worked. They succeeded. They rebuilt their wall, prepared their torches, and circled the den. The tendrils ducked and weaved like stubborn scavengers desperate to pull meat from a mountain lion's catch, but the flames challenged their resolve. Still, they were desperate. Hungering.
Deerpaw and Riftgorse were bruised by the Living Tendrils swiping at their feet and wrapping around their legs. Morningspot and Cloudthunder had the torches knocked from their grasps, and both mollies resorted to biting into them and pulling away with all their strength. Airpaw drove a torch through the one his mother had grasped. Daffodilpaw joined her sister as she witnessed her stabbing the torches at the holes the tendrils emerged from, both cats trembling with adrenaline.
Two tendrils weaved through into the den. Before any cat could act, a wrathful caterwaul emerged from the nursery. There was thrashing and contorting, until one of the tendrils retreated like a terrified dog. The other let out an alien screech as it was pulled taut. It writhed and writhed, until the black, vengeful shadow that was Hopechase was practically dragged to the entrance. She dove her claws into it one last time, her single white paw painting itself black with their blood. Only when it hissed and pulled back with more ferocity did she finally let go.
It took a few more minutes for all the stragglers to finally determine their prey would not die easily, cutting their losses and retreating into the woods. Cats yowled with triumph.
By all accounts, they won. They succeeded.
So why, as they gathered around a small funeral pyre, did this still feel like a failure?
*******
Iciclepool had a bad feeling. Perhaps it was that gut feeling, that deeply-seeded fear that caused her to hesitate in stopping her duties and telling the clan about her pregnancy. It was so unlike her. When she was younger, she failed to stifle her joy at her past pregnancies. Cats gently warned her to lower her expectations - to no avail. Every single one of her kits were so loved and wanted. When Cliffstep was still by her side - oh, stars, she wished he was still here - she purred and spoke gently to them as she felt her kits shifting and kicking on occasion. She could count the sets of feet after a time, and know how many she would have. And Cliffstep was so loving, so attentive - curling around her and his future family with warmth and care.
None of them ever survived past six moons.
Shiverstep was all of her hope, all of her love she could never give to her children. She cherished every second the little kit curled by her side at night and padded after her in camp. She cried with relief as it hit her that finally, finally, nothing would take away her baby. Redstar wouldn't send her on a cruel trial. No tendrils would come. She could watch her child grow, and become such a beautiful molly. And oh, she did. Shiverstep was such a kind, beautiful, wonderful soul. Was it so wrong for her to have hope? To see another kit of hers grow up again?
She should've listened to Hopechase. Oh, stars, why didn't she listen? Hopechase voiced her concerns when Iciclepool told her what she felt. The look in her eyes made her feel so ashamed. She didn't want to tell the medicine cats. She didn't want them to confirm her worst fears. Hadn't she suffered enough? Was she wrong to hope and pray they would all survive this time?
Three. In the time she carried her babies, she felt at least three kick. But in total, in nights where she would press her paw around her stomach, thinking of names, she felt the round bundles curled against her. Four. One never stirred.
Hopechase and Shiverstep had been her only solace in the past few days.
"Everything will be alright, love. StarClan is watching over you. Cliffstep. Rapidpaw. Valleypaw. Your sister, and all of our lost friends and family. They want us to succeed. I know they must." Hopechase had looked at her with those bright blue eyes, with an intensity that mirrored a cloudless sky. "And I will defend our family with everything I have."
Separately, Shiverstep spoke with determined intensity. Bags formed under her eyes, but a glint of hope shone within them. "I promise, mom. I promise that nothing will happen to you. To them. I have help. From…from StarClan. Clanmates." It sounded like Shiverstep stopped her list short, a name on her tongue that she refused to speak. "We're going to be okay. If something bad happens, I'll find a way."
Only Windfur seemed to pierce through her soul, returning the dread Iciclepool felt.
"...I…I don't want to fail you," Windfur meowed, his voice tight. The implication weighed heavily on their shoulders.
"...It won't be your fault. Please…please don't blame yourself if it happens." Iciclepool's voice cracked. She felt like a wounded doe, desperate to hide her injury. She inhaled, froze her pain beneath a sheet of ice in her body, and straightened. "I've lost kits before. This is nothing new to me. I will survive."
"...I don't want you to have to."
"But I will."
And she did.
As she heard the yowling, burning and thrashing outside, as she felt her mate looming over the nursery entrance, as she met her contractions with familiarity and listened to Windfur and Shiverstep's guidance, she prepared. She heard Windfur call for Brackenfreckle to be on standby. The distant sounds of roots tearing through the earth and cats hissing echoed.
The first cried out. A grey molly.
The second did not. A brown molly. The noise outside accompanied her dread. Shiverstep was removing the liquid, drying the fur, her blue eyes intense as she rubbed it between her paws.
In the tension, she was forced to deliver the third. Windfur quickly removed debris near its face, and it screeched in protest. Iciclepool released a laugh of dismay. A black tom.
Shiverstep still worked. She gritted her teeth as her rubbing intensified.
"Shiver," Windfur began sharply.
"I'm fine," Shiverstep retorted, failing to hide her fear. She pried open its mouth to search for debris. "Come on. Come on. Please."
Iciclepool's heart was rotting. Burning. Falling off its tendons.
She barely registered her beloved mate screeching and throwing herself at tendrils that dared to approach.
Iciclepool bit down as a final wave of pain came to her. She whimpered. Windfur refocused his attention and quickly helped deliver the last. It let out a continuous set of mews, refusing to quiet until it felt its mother. A brown tom.
Windfur pressed around rapidly. "That's…that's it."
Iciclepool nodded. She curled around her newborn kits. She stared as she watched Shiverstep - her eldest kit - still trying to stifle life back into the newborn. The world around her spun and blurred. Cats yowled in triumph. Iciclepool saw her mate pad up to her with a shine in her eyes, only for them to dim as she saw Shiverstep trying to resuscitate a newborn. Windfur didn't step in to stop her. He just stared with an unreadable expression.
Time passed cruelly. Shiverstep's ears folded further back. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her breath quickened. She started mouthing something inaudibly.
Brackenfreckle entered boldly, looking at Iciclepool and her three healthy kits. Her expression fell as she looked at Shiverstep.
"...Is it…?" she started. She wisely decided not to finish her thought.
Shiverstep choked back a sob. She breathed air through its nose. She began small, rhythmic compressions on its ribs. Her mouthing became desperate whispers.
"Please. I call to you. I call to you. Please. Please."
"Shiverstep," Iciclepool whimpered, unable to bear her daughter's despair.
"Please," she repeated. She blew air into the kit's nose again, turning it over and rubbing its back rigorously. Her lips curled back and her teeth gritted. "Help. Help. I need…" She choked back a sob as her fleeting hope turned to despair. "What do I do?" she mouthed. She broke and pressed her head against the newborn kitten.
Iciclepool couldn't bear it. She stumbled to her weakened feet, despite Brackenfreckle's brief protest and her kits' whining. Shiverstep looked away as her mother approached her, and reluctantly fell apart as Iciclepool sadly dug her teeth into the cleric's scruff, pulling her towards the nest like one of her newborns. The young cleric sobbed, and Windfur reluctantly took the newborn away from Shiverstep. The marbled molly forced herself to her feet, following Iciclepool back to her nest - lest she were dragged.
Windfur's dark blue eyes were unreadable as he stared at the newborn. He started doing light compressions with his paw.
Iciclepool allowed her remaining kits to suckle, and she forced herself to purr with comfort as Shiverstep buried her head into her shoulder.
Her heart still withered.
Eventually, cats peered in, asking questions. Brackenfreckle uneasily tried to shoo them away. Redstar herself was getting agitated at being denied entry.
"Redstar, just…give us a moment. Please," Hopechase called back. The emptiness in her tone must've silenced the leader.
Iciclepool watched Windfur continue trying to revive her stillborn kit. His expression was like stone, but she knew that desperation roiled within him. She glanced at her mate. Hopechase held her breath. Refused to look at her. Shiverstep trembled, repeating strained and near-silent, "I call, I call, please, please answer," muffled against her mother's shoulder.
Iciclepool's copper eyes stilled. She bit back a wail as the memory of her past flashed before her. Every kit stolen by a tendril. Every apprentice trial Lakestar commanded on her children. Every baby she never got to see grow.
StarClan...Please...please let this be the very last one. No more. My heart can't do it again. I just can't.
Softly, she whispered, "Hopechase...let her go, love."
Hopechase objected meekly. "No."
"Hope."
"I can't." Hopechase stared at the stillborn kit in desperation.
"Honey. It's okay." She strained to place her paw on her mate's. It felt wet like mud. "Let her go."
After a time that felt like a thousand seasons, Hopechase's ears flattened, she closed her eyes, and dipped her head. Her voice trembled.
"...Sparrowkit?" The request was earnest and pleading, and Iciclepool failed to swallow the knot in her throat.
"Yes."
Hopechase lifted her head back up. "...It's okay, Windfur. Let her go."
Windfur ignored her, his pupils dilating.
Hopechase slowly rose to her feet, padding up to him with a lowered tail. "Windfur."
Nothing.
"Stop." The warrior placed her paw on his shoulder. Only then did the cleric slow his pace, before finally stopping. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, before gently putting her down.
Hopechase picked up Sparrowkit by the scruff, bringing her over to Iciclepool.
"...I can tell the Clan what happened, if it helps." Brackenfreckle offered. "...I'm sorry for your loss."
Hopechase breathed deeply. "Yes. Thank you."
As Brackenfreckle padded out, and Hopechase curled herself behind her mate, Iciclepool silently groomed her children - Shiverstep included, who still lay defeatedly by her side.
The mother felt conflicted as she stared down at her five children - one gone, one grown, three born. Her sorrow was like purifying rain over a burning forest; emollient. She gave a few, tender licks on Sparrowkit's head, her voice still trembling.
"Look after your sister for me, won't you, Rapidpaw, Valleypaw?" She inhaled sharply. "I love you. So much."
---
After a somber funeral, Hopechase and Iciclepool sleep in the same nest with their new babies, cherishing them and making silent vows to protect them forever. They give them names - Mulberrykit, Ghostkit and Hazelkit.
((SO I still don't have my files back. So I'm still on hiatus. BUT I STILL HAVE MY GOOGLE DOCS. So you get my ForestClan Backstories for funsies. Enjoy!)))
SUMMARY: Hopechase was once a warrior named Lightfoot. What drove Redstar to give her this honor title?
---
Redpath sat at the head of her circle of clanmates; the ones who stayed. Her revolutionaries, and the cowardly Chicoryglint. That was all. This was all that remained of ForestClan - the only cats who were still willing to try and save their home.
The pragmatic side of her understood completely, and was somewhat grateful for some departers. Cricketwing, Falconclaw and Stemfrost were some of Lakestar's staunchest supporters, and didn't want anything to do with her killer. Good riddance - she didn't care to have them in her Clan. Sprucetail, Fogpelt and Grousefeather were somewhat expected - they were drained and hollowed from all the death, and she wasn't surprised when Grousefeather announced his departure. She also understood when his two daughters followed. Tawnyshadow's departure hurt. More than she expected. She was hopeful that the elder would stay, but she couldn't be convinced. She was so, so tired. Her stories and history would die with her, in the warmth of a Twoleg nest, hopefully.
Redpath's hope crumbled when more joined the elder. Mallowpaw. Sablepaw. Oakbelly. Lichenlight. Sagefur, bringing Cardinalkit with her.
She did not plead for them to stay. She had no right.
And now, here she was. In the cold of a leafbare afternoon, she had ForestClan in her paws. Broken, cold and afraid, like a baby bird pushed out of the nest, looking at her with fear and acceptance.
Redpath finally tore her gaze away from the snow, and looked at her Clanmates properly.
Iciclepool, her friend, her closest ally. Lightfoot, her blue eyes soft with understanding. Ferncreek, standing beside his son, Windpaw; both toms looking tired and wary. Cloudthunder and Barleywave, two young warriors who dared to hope for something greater. And Chicoryglint, her expression unreadable.
Eight. ForestClan used to have twenty cats. Now, there were eight. She didn't expect that to hurt as much as it did. But the longer she thought about it, the more it stung. She was not trustworthy. Certainly not to Lakestar's loyalists, not to her elders, not to clanmates she watched suffer under Lakestar's rule. She did all of this for them, but in the end, only eight remained.
She hoped, and prayed, that StarClan still saw them as a Clan. That her friends still saw themselves as a Clan.
Lightfoot let out a soft purr, breaking the tension among them. "Well, this is wonderful, isn't it?"
Everyone stared at her with puzzled expressions.
"I think we'll make a great new ForestClan together. I wouldn't trust anyone else with the task than those who are here," Lightfoot meowed, twitching her whiskers in amusement.
"Lightfoot, come on, two thirds of us just left," Cloudthunder mumbled.
"I know. And I know we're disappointed by it." Lightfoot's tail swished. "But this is a new beginning, now, with Clanmates who chose to stay. And that matters."
Barleywave looked away, hiding ripples of feeling. Redpath couldn't blame him. Falconclaw was his father - and as much as he hated him, he grieved the father he never had. Cloudthunder blinked at Lightfoot tiredly. Iciclepool seemed lost in thought.
Lightfoot continued calmly. "I think we should take an afternoon to grieve - perhaps make ourselves a meal, no? Barleywave, you always wanted to learn more cooking tasks, didn't you?"
Barleywave flinched from being called upon, staring wide-eyed at the older molly. "Uh…I mean…yeah, I did, but, you know…"
Lightfoot tilted her head.
"Are you sure you want me to set everything on fire?" he joked dryly.
Cloudthunder exhaled sharply. Her whiskers twitched. "Come on, you aren't that bad."
Redpath blinked. "It would be fitting to make ourselves a meal, though. A new start?"
Ferncreek stood up. "I'll start the fire." He padded away before anyone could object, and Barleywave groaned.
"Oh good, I guess we're doing that now."
"Ferncreek has decided," Lightfoot teased.
"...Are we holding a Ritual for the Lost?"
Chicoryglint's voice came quiet and unassuming, but cutting. Pelts bristled on all ends as eyes fell on the old protector of secrets. Chicoryglint kept her composure, licking her paw before adding, "It's not necessary, of course. I do not expect one."
Liar. Redpath knew what kind of cat Chicoryglint was and she could tell the immediate backing down of her true intent. She saw it all the time whenever Lakestar showed a hint of animosity towards one of her questions.
"What do you think, Chicoryglint?" Iciclepool hissed, her ears flattening.
Chicoryglint faltered. "I - "
"Actually," Ferncreek interjected, a growl in his throat. He turned towards her. "I want to know why you thought we'd honor a tyrant in the first place."
Chicoryglint's dark blue eyes shielded her emotions like glass.
Windpaw bristled and stood up. "W-Wait, she didn't mean it like that. Chicoryglint and I...we're protectors of secrets. The Ritual of the Lost is used to reach StarClan, that's all. It's not about Lakestar."
"After everything Lakestar's done, why should she get the opportunity to reach StarClan?" Iciclepool hissed.
Windpaw turned to Redpath. "Redpath, you're the new secret keeper. You get to decide, not us."
"Windpaw, Redpath just tossed the foxheart to the woods, I don't think she wants to honor her," Barelywave hissed.
Redpath fought to stop her lips from curling. No, she did not want to have a funeral for the monster she just deposed.
However, despite everything, Lightfoot's presence and words always surprised her. And nothing surprised her more than this.
"I think we should."
Iciclepool whirled towards her. Her eyes widened with hurt.
"Uh...Lightfoot, do you have bees in your brain?" Cloudthunder asked, looking less angry; more concerned.
Lightfoot gazed towards Redpath calmly. "Redpath, can I explain?"
Redpath met her gaze incredulously. Out of all the cats - after seasons of watching Lakestar deteriorate and hurt and kill cats she loved, she did not understand why Lightfoot wanted a funeral. For a moment, she felt betrayed. She remembered every lash, every insult, every scream and hiss and order of execution Lakestar made. She remembered day after day, having to support her cruelty. She remembered every cat's hateful gaze; every spiteful whisper when they thought Redpath couldn't hear them. She hated every moment of it. She only tolerated it with the single-minded ambition of one day wrenching the lives from Lakestar's body and finally, finally, leading a Clan. One where no one would ever have to be afraid ever again.
One of the few cats to keep her sane and remind her that she was not a monster, was Lightfoot.
Lightfoot's expression was kind, and unchallenging. The older molly blinked slowly.
Redpath swallowed the knot in her throat. "...Explain yourself." Her command was sharp. Lightfoot bowed, then spoke.
"I think we should have a funeral, because I believe the actions of a new ForestClan cannot be ones that prioritize vengeance over hope, and growth. Our reasons for killing Lakestar cannot be remembered by lorekeepers as pure vengeance. If that is what we build our Clan on, then we will carry this with us as we rebuild ForestClan. I think we should have a Ritual of the Lost. Not to honor Lakestar, but to remind ourselves what the purpose of her death served. We all had our reasons beyond vengeance to overthrow her. We wanted a better future." Lightfoot's tail flicked. She held her composure as the entire Clan stared at her. "Before Lakestar became leader, I remember how she looked towards Birchstar. She was resentful of his rule. Large parts of the Clan were. They saw him as a coward." She looked out towards her Clanmates. "Do any of you remember the territory-search patrols, a long time ago?"
Iciclepool's pelt flattened, parsing Lightfoot's question. "Yes, I do. I think…I think I remember many cats being sent out, and…never coming back."
Cloudthunder's eyes widened. "Wait, really?"
"Once Birchstar died, Lakestar wanted to find us new territory, far from these woods," Chicoryglint added. Her gaze fixated the floor. "She…she sent out patrols of cats who were willing to make long journeys. But…none of them returned."
Lightfoot nodded. "It seemed like Lakestar wanted to make ForestClan better at first. But…" Lightfoot's ears folded back. "I don't know. After my uncle Rootgrove died, it was as if she gave up. I can't say I knew Lakestar before her madness began, but I can say one thing for sure," Lightfoot's gaze was sharp. "She was a profoundly angry cat. Her desire to seek new territory was to spite Birchstar, not make things better for ForestClan. Which is why I believe we can't move on without letting that go."
Redpath tensed. "...I'm sorry, Lightfoot. But I cannot forgive Lakestar."
Lightfoot recoiled, looking offended. "Forgive? Don't be mousebrained, I'm not forgiving a cat who sent our family and friends to die," she hissed. After a second to cool off, Lightfoot's ears perked back up. "Rather, I want to set a precedent. That we should be built on mercy, and looking forward."
There was a heavy silence that followed Lightfoot's words. They seemed to reach into everyone's hearts, and stir their sense of hope.
But for some, the hope was rooted in justice, and righteousness. Ferncreek's ears threatened to fold back. His tail twitched, and his eyes narrowed.
"Mercy to an enemy cannot come at the cost of their victims."
Redpath felt her claws rake the dirt. She agreed with Ferncreek.
"Mercy to a dead body does not create victims," Lightfoot stated.
"Lightfoot, I…if we have a funeral, I will have nothing merciful to say," Iciclepool added.
"I know, lovely Icicle." Lightfoot looked at her with softness, and empathy. "And I'm not expecting anyone to."
Barleywave rolled his eyes. "So, what? We're going to sit around in a circle and go, 'Lakestar, you're a foxheart, but we didn't hate you'? Like, that's a lie."
Redpath listened closely to Lightfoot's proposal. She absorbed her reasoning. In the turmoil of her pain, she grasped to Lightfoot's words.
Her desire to seek new territory was to spite Birchstar, not make things better for ForestClan.
She wrapped this thought like a caterpillar weaving a cocoon. She draped it in other thoughts, other stories. Like the stories of other revolutions that happened in ForestClan's history - leaders overthrown, replaced by new ones to change rules, only to fall again. No records of any overthrown leaders buried or marked on the oak tree. Change, built on pain until collapse was inevitable. But it never truly changed, not really.
The prophecy of the gentle camp, ringed in spears. Of a camp filled with cats of all shapes, sizes, beliefs and cultures. Of mountain lions with heads of hair like sunlight, and stripes like black branches. Kittypets with toys for kits, and stoic lynxes standing guard. Impossible, illogical, irrational peace, after generations of death and murder.
And outside those walls - spears ringed in starlight, fighting anything that dares to threaten them.
They did not have weapons inside the camp. They did not teach hatred or fostered vengeance in the camp. There were stories in ForestClan of cats dying to cougars and lynxes before. And yet, they were in the camp too.
"Uh, Redpath?"
Redpath blinked, and she realized that her Clan was staring at her. She paused, then shifted uncomfortably.
"Ah…yes?"
"What should we do?" Iciclepool asked.
Redpath stared out in front of her, lost in thought.
The butterfly was emerging from the cocoon.
I am seeking a better world for ForestClan. I did not kill Lakestar out of vengeance alone.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She…she was the leader of ForestClan now. She could change things. Make things different. She didn't have to be beholden by tradition, or habit, or the stories of the past.
She only hoped that her Clan - her friends? - would have the courage to follow her.
"As the leader of ForestClan, I…I seek to adjust the code we follow."
There was a murmur of confusion and a ripple of apprehension.
"I wish to add a ritual. A type of funeral. One that I will use for this evening, and only for this evening." She opened her eyes, and felt the eyes of her Clan upon her pelt. "A…A Ritual of…" She hesitated on a name. She remembered both Lightfoot and Ferncreek's words. She sighed, and started again, more firmly. "A Ritual of Mercy. For the victims of Lakestar's reign. For ourselves. The only difference is that we will tell Lakestar what her death served. We did not kill out of vengeance. We had reasons to do what we did. Good reasons. Visions of hope, of a better future. We will cement those reasons, and remember what ForestClan, our new ForestClan, is built upon."
There was an uneasy silence that lingered around them. Cats gauged each other's reactions, but all seemed as uncertain as the other.
Barleywave frowned. His ear twitched. "...Am I going to have to say nice things about her?"
Redpath scowled. "You better not. We're not doing that."
Cloudthunder rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Dear Lakestar, you died so that I could finally leave camp and there's nothing you can do about it."
Barleywave laughed in response, and a flicker of levity surged through the rest of the cats. Redpath smiled. "Well, yes. Things like that. Appreciation for what we will do in the future, for the sake of a better Clan."
"Lakestar, you died so that cats could leave camp in the future!" Cloudthunder corrected, yelling at the sky dramatically.
A mrrow of amusement was echoed between a few cats, and Lightfoot beamed as she got to her feet and shook out her fur.
"Dear Lakestar, you died so that I would be allowed to teach Barleywave how to cook properly," Lightfoot joked.
"Lakestar, you died so that I had the right to burn camp down," Barleywave chuckled.
"No, absolutely not, you're not burning it down," Iciclepool called out, getting to her feet with a smile.
Redpath watched as her Clan - sans Chicoryglint, who scuttled to the medicine den to find cooking herbs - gathered around the cooking fire and started making one-off declarations of grandeur. They cracked jokes, expressed hopes over what they would learn and do in the future, and started teaching each other how to properly cook.
Redpath's heart thundered. She had to have hope.
********
It took half an hour of cooking and preparing for the Clan to finally gather around the High Rock. Chunks of roasted mice were served on flat stone plates. Lakestar's favorite food was roasted vole, but they had none, Redpath wasn't going to find one for a tyrant's sake. She allowed them to eat their fill first - it gave her time to think of a better script than the one used for the Ritual of the Lost. She certainly wasn't going to ask StarClan to guide Lakestar's spirit…although, truthfully, she didn't know where she'd be. She didn't know why StarClan gave lives to Lakestar to begin with. She decided to put that thought aside. Lakestar was dead. That was all that mattered.
It felt strange, standing on the High Rock. A place where Lakestar stood to make these rituals, and issue her commands.
I will turn it into a place of hope, not fear.
As her Clan finished eating, and one by one they turned to look at her, she took a deep breath, and began.
"Spirits of our warrior ancestors, we call upon your love in our time of grief. We partake in this meal, to fill us with warmth, and remind ourselves of what matters to us most. Tonight, StarClan, we do not ask for you to guide a soul. We ask that you witness our mercy, and our promise to make ForestClan a better place to live, for all cats."
"Hear hear," Lightfoot called.
Redpath suppressed a small smile, continuing. "For Lakestar's death, we take time to remember our reasons for doing this act. Not out of anger, or rage, but out of hope. We remember."
Her Clan echoed back. "We remember."
Redpath curled her tail around her paws. She knew already what she wanted to say. "I did not kill Lakestar out of vengeance alone. Although I was fueled in part by it, it is not why I killed her. If there were any other path I could've taken - if she would've accepted exile, or step down, then I would've accepted it. But Lakestar would not permit herself any other way." Her ears flattened. "I was tired. Tired of watching cats refuse to band together to fight Tendrils. I was tired of watching young apprentices be sent to their deaths. I was tired of watching cats suffer and feed the woods. And so," her breath shook, "Lakestar died so I could make a Clan where that didn't happen. With Lakestar's death, I will make a Clan where no cat will ever have to feed the woods again. Where my nine lives will be used to satiate them for seasons to come. Where no kit will ever have to seek approval from the woods before becoming an apprentice, and where Clanmates stand together to fight the woods. I…I killed Lakestar, so that we could make a better Clan. And that is why she died."
Redpath turned towards her secret keeper's apprentice. Iciclepool nodded, then stared down at her empty plate. Her copper eyes flickered with feeling.
"...I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be a queen. None of those are meant to be. No thanks to her. She hated me. She was happy to see me suffer. And I was tired of it." Her bitterness was palpable, and a few cats gave a purr of sympathy. "Lakestar died so that no apprentice would ever be sent to die again. So that no queen would ever have to lose all of her children ever again from pointless cruelty." Her eyes narrowed, and her ears flattened. "And if any leader dares to try it again, I will not show mercy. No one will."
Redpath's heart tightened. She knew Iciclepool did not mean to direct it at her. But her hate was palpable.
I promise I won't ever become her, Redpath thought. I promise no kit, queen or apprentice will ever suffer from apathy and cruelty ever again, Iciclepool. I made a promise to Cliffstep.
Iciclepool turned her head curtly to Cloudthunder. One by one, Redpath's Clanmates spoke.
"Lakestar died so that no cat will ever have to feel like a prisoner in their own home. Cats will learn that the world beyond our walls can be dangerous, yes, but not horrible all the time. I want more cats to see the Glimpse Clearing, and the Rocky Stepps, and the vernal pools, and the fields, and - look, the world is beautiful, okay? I know the woods are horrible. But I refuse to feel like we can never just exist in the world. This is our home too, Lakestar's death will let me - and other cats in the future, hopefully - actually experience that."
"Uh…Lakestar died so…I…man, guys, I'm terrible with speeches. I dunno. Lakestar made me feel hopeless. I guess made others feel that way too. Her death means that we can actually have hope now. If…that's okay to say. Yeah? Okay great. Uh…your turn."
"I…will continue to be a good healer. Lakestar died because…she made many cats angry and afraid. Hopefully there will be less of it now. I will…keep being a good healer. And a good mentor."
"...Um…do…do you all remember Beauty? The young loner who was hurt on our border? I…I wanted to help her. But Chicoryglint, I…I remember you told me no, because Lakestar wouldn't allow it. But…maybe, in the future now, we can invoke the Law of Asylum more. At least to cats who just need a single stem of horsetail. I hope ForestClan can be a Clan where we can help more cats freely, now."
"...Lakestar died so the pain could end. All of it." A long pause. "...I'm sorry. I have nothing kind to add."
"That's alright, Ferncreek," Lightfoot murmured. Finally, with her turn, she sat straight. "Lakestar, wherever you may be - maybe you had good intentions for ForestClan, once, a long, long time ago. Maybe you really did want to help ForestClan, back when you wanted to find new territory. But your intentions mean little, when your actions hurt everyone around you." Lightfoot sighed. "You became a monster hellbent on making everyone fear for their lives, terrified of setting foot outside the walls of camp. You killed those who disagreed with you, and threatened the children of those who spoke out against you. You had to die, because you held no hope for your own future. You feared the woods more than you cared for your Clan. Lakestar, may your death serve as a lesson for future lorekeepers. Fear poisons and corrupts the soul, and hatred is the bastardization of love. May our new ForestClan be lead without fear, and for our love of ForestClan to outweigh all hatred we hold to our enemies." Lightfoot turned towards Redpath with a smile. "May Redstar's reign be one of hope against the threat of despair."
Redpath's heart swelled, and a purr escaped her. Her affection turned to embarrassment as her Clanmates began slowly, then picked up, "Redstar, Redstar! Redstar! Redstar!"
Redpath licked her chest fur, surprised to feel openly embarrassed. When was the last time she had allowed herself to feel this?
I will do my best, Lightfoot. I promise.
********
"Redpath?"
Redpath turned towards her secret keeper's apprentice - no, she corrected internally, her deputy - as she padded up to her from across the clearing. After the Ritual of Mercy, the Clan had decided to spend a day or so to reorganize, and discuss basic reforms to their Warrior Code. Besides, after Chicoryglint's insistence that clear moonlight would be needed for a leadership ceremony, Redpath couldn't face StarClan immediately. Although, she highly questioned Chicoryglint's words.
Iciclepool's tail twitched. "I wanted to report that I've sent Cloudthunder and Ferncreek out on a border patrol. I've told them to be careful of any scent trails from Falconclaw or Cricketwing. I don't know if they're still in our territory, but…"
"Barleywave is working on it - slowly. We have enough to repair the larger patches of rotting wood, but after that, we'll be almost out of sap. We won't have much until we can start collecting again in late winter and early spring."
Redpath sighed. "That's not good. Are you sure we can't preserve more?"
"Yes, I'm sure. It's the least of our worries, given the herbs ruined to frost earlier this month," Iciclepool meowed tightly. She stiffened. "We can find other binding agents."
"I…yes, I agree." Iciclepool paused, and her tail drooped. Redpath blinked back at her. "...I'm sorry, I didn't mean for the question to sound combative. I'm not used to being able to…agree with you so freely."
Iciclepool relaxed. She sighed, her copper eyes filled with fatigue. "You're right. I'm so used to hearing otherwise. I knew your words were all a ruse to gain Lakestar's trust, but…"
"But it was hard," Redpath finished. Her jaw clenched; remembering every argument she held with Iciclepool. How sharp her words were. How every small challenge Iciclepool made received Redpath's retort. In private, on silent patrols held in twilight, the two of them would always apologize. Reiterate their desires to remove Lakestar from power. Confirm again that it was not what Redpath earnestly thought. Iciclepool always said she understood, held herself tall, and repeated that she believed in her. If Lakestar wanted a show to inflate her ego, she could have it - whatever it took for Redpath to infiltrate Lakestar's circle.
But that didn't come without strife and hurt feelings.
Iciclepool looked away, distant. "I was surprised when you named me apprentice - sorry, deputy," she corrected. "I know we had discussed it before. You told me that you would, but…"
Redpath's heart tightened. "You doubted me."
The deputy bristled defensively. "That's not it - "
"Wait," Redpath interjected, lifting her paw. It came out quiet; almost pleading. It was so unlike her that Iciclepool's fur flattened. "I'm sorry. I spoke sharply from…from habit. Habits I learned to survive, but aren't good for me now. Give me a moment to phrase it again."
The two mollies sat in silence. Iciclepool tilted her head, and let out a small chuff.
"That sounds like something Lightfoot would've said."
Redpath let out a dry laugh, the grip around her heart loosening. "Is it that obvious?"
"Wait, I was kidding. Did she really?" Iciclepool let out a mrrow of amusement.
"She, ah…advised me to start thinking things over before speaking. I was the leader now, and everyone who was left, trusted me. If they didn't, they would be gone."
"I agree with her. Well, except for…"
An unspoken agreement was shared as their gazes drifted towards the medicine den. Chicoryglint agreed to rename herself from protector of secrets to 'medicine cat', but she was very placid and agreeable to everything, given the circumstances. She was always an enabler to Lakestar's cruelty, disguised as compassion. Redpath sighed and shook her head. She didn't think Chicoryglint was the kind of molly to plot something in the background. She was too meek for that. Quite frankly, she didn't know what Chicoryglint wanted.
"...To circle back to what I said before…I meant to say something like…there was a lot of doubt, leading up to…to Lakestar's death," Redpath finally said.
Iciclepool sighed. "I think I was just…scared. We've lived our whole lives only knowing Lakestar's cruelty. Really, the only reason we believed things could be different was from Lightfoot's account of Birchstar."
Redpath nodded. "And I promise that we will be."
Iciclepool blinked slowly at her in response.
After a few moments, Redpath glanced across the clearing, and watched as Barleywave stood on his hind legs to reach a crack located high on one of the inner walls. His tail twitched in annoyance as he held a bundle of rope in his mouth. His eyes darted around him, trying to figure out a plan. Lightfoot stood a few tail lengths behind him. Her tail tapped the snow-covered ground patiently. After a few moments, she spoke, and Barleywave retorted. Lightfoot rolled her eyes and approached him.
"Oh, there she goes," Iciclepool giggled. Redpath watched as Barleywave's frustrated protests disappeared as Lightfoot spoke in a low tone. Redpath couldn't pick up what she was saying, but Redpath could tell based on Barleywave's expression that she was getting through to him. Responding with compassion, kindness, and understanding. Reminding him that he was better than this. He wasn't alone, and no one was going to lash out or criticize his work anymore.
Redpath and Iciclepool watched the scene unfold. Emotions surged through Redpath as she watched Lightfoot finally convince Barleywave to let her help, and watched the pair work together to repair the wall and re-secure bindings. For years, Lightfoot had been their pillar of hope during times of despair. She reminded them that things always changed, that the world always craved stability, and that chaos and despair was not something to build a Clan on. She pushed them to be the best versions of themselves, and to remember the stories of old - ones where good prevailed, even in all the death. Redpath remembered when she was a kit, and Lightfoot turned to her and told her about one of the last prophecies they received from StarClan - the vision of the gentle camp, ringed in spears.
That prophecy kept her going for so many seasons. And so did Lightfoot. As she watched Barelywave's entire demeanor change, and as she caught Iciclepool's gaze softening, she realized that Lightfoot chased hope for her Clan like it was the only thing that could feed them.
She pondered.
"Iciclepool?"
"Yes?"
"I have…a thought. Lightfoot is an exceptional cat, yes?"
"Of course," Iciclepool's eyes widened. "She's…well, I think she's one of the reasons we've made it this far. I'll be honest, I think part of my doubts about being your deputy was just…" She chuckled a little. "Well, I'm just surprised you didn't make it Lightfoot instead."
"But I promised I'd make you my deputy, that day we started our plans. Everyone knew about that promise, Lightfoot included. Do you have any idea how mad she'd be if I asked her instead?"
Iciclepool laughed. "Oh, you're right. She would be mad if you dared to ask."
Redpath purred, her tail twitching. "But, Lightfoot has been so vital to us. I want to do something for her. Let me know your thoughts on this?"
Redpath presented her idea. Iciclepool agreed wholeheartedly.
*******
Redstar obtained her nine lives. Her Clan greeted her with cautious hope. She confirmed her new name, and ForestClan rejoiced.
"But, now that I'm the true leader of ForestClan, I have one last announcement I want to make." Redstar climbed up onto the High Rock. She did not feel the need to order a Clan meeting - her Clan was all here. Instead, she spoke. "Lightfoot - please step forward."
Lightfoot was dumbfounded. She looked at the rest of her Clanmates, all of whom were equally confused. Safe for one - Iciclepool, who sat at the bottom of the rock to Redstar's left. Her tail was raised high, and her eyes beamed. Iciclepool nodded to the dark molly, beckoning her to approach.
Lightfoot tilted her head, now curious. She padded towards Redstar and sat before her, looking up at her new leader.
Redstar smiled, her tail lifted high. "Lightfoot," she began, "I want to acknowledge your role in keeping us together - as friends, and as a Clan."
Lightfoot let out a mrrow of amusement. "Aw, Redstar, come on, you don't have to make an announcement out of that."
"Let me finish. For many seasons now, Iciclepool and I have felt like you have been vital in helping us create a better ForestClan. Yes, Iciclepool and I resolved to defeat Lakestar. But you were there to orient us, to remind us of why we were making difficult choices. From what Iciclepool told me, it's because of you that Cloudthunder and Barleywave joined our cause. It was because of your kindness, and your stalwart faith in a better future that we kept pursuing this goal." Redstar's expression turned solemn. "Distancing myself from clanmates and playing the role of the right-hand to a tyrant was difficult, and isolating. I remember many moons where I felt bitter, and angry. Sometimes I doubted that others could ever trust me, after the things I've done. But you kept us together. You reminded us all of what we were fighting for, and that despite temporary pain, it was worth fighting for. I know you try to downplay that, but I don't think you realize how important that is."
Lightfoot looked stunned.
Iciclepool nodded, softening. "The day we killed Lakestar - I was hurt when you suggested we hold a funeral for someone who caused us so much pain. But doing so reminded us of what we actually fought for. Not for revenge, or for retribution against our tormentor. But for peace."
"And Iciclepool and I agreed, that a better ForestClan could not be built on any cats' worst impulses and feelings. My hate - or, I suppose our hate - for Lakestar cannot be what this Clan is built on. And this will be what makes our home a better place."
Cats murmured in agreement, and it seemed like Chicoryglint and Ferncreek caught on to what their leadership planned to do. Lightfoot herself also caught on, a look of shock and wonder placed upon her shoulders. Her pupils dilated.
"I…I just believe we're made for more than this. I've always believed that," Lightfoot meowed.
"And I believe you are more than that," Redstar replied. With a purr, she recited, "I call upon our warrior ancestors to look upon this cat. She has transcended what a warrior is expected to perform in service of their Clan, and I call upon you to honor this cat, as I bless them with a name that suits their actions."
"Oh, mousedung, an honor name!" Barleywave shouted from the sidelines excitedly, receiving a few laughs and a single "shhh" from Ferncreek.
Redstar hopped down from the High Rock and placed her tail on her friend's shoulder, her heart bursting with pride. "Lightfoot, do you wish to accept this honor name?"
Lightfoot laughed nervously. "Do I have to?" she meowed with full humility.
"Oh, please!" Iciclepool gave Lightfoot a wide-eyed, pleading look like that of a kit.
Lightfoot burst with laughter, heat rising to her cheeks. "Ah, mousedung, how can I say no to a face like that? Very well, lovely deputy, just for you," she teased. She turned to face Redstar, her leader and friend, and gave her a smirk. "Okay, Redstar, you've got me. Yes, I do."
"Then by the powers of StarClan, I grant you your new warrior name." Redstar recited this almost too quickly, as though Lightfoot was going to rescind the offer - although deep down, she knew she wouldn't. Redstar thought deeply about this name, she hoped that her friend would like it. "From now on, you will be known as Hopechase. StarClan honors you for your determination and endless positivity."
Before the newly-named Hopechase could finish licking Redstar's shoulder, cats already chanted with enthusiasm. Hopechase was filled with joy. She purred loudly and pressed against both Redstar and Iciclepool.
DAZED. REELING. ABOUT TO BREAK. The Gardener attack left many, many cats stressed. Riversnow, Owlpaw, Daffodilpaw and Shiverstep are impacted more than others.
Redstar calls a Clan meeting. She makes a change to the Law of Informed Risk, re-emphasizing teaching youth details about the Deep Roots, and makes a new law to the Warrior Code - the Law of Fire, to teach and make more active use of fire in their combat and defensive measures. A faint hope blossoms.
(Redstar, leader, female, 78 moons. Strict.)
---
Redstar stood vigil all night next to a large fire stationed by the wreckage of their broken wall. She was used to it anyway. The only difference was that she didn't have a Woodcrawler den at her back.
The pyramid-like shape they constructed for the fire burned tall all night long, warding anything that dared to look in ForestClan's direction. Cats joined and left over the course of the night. Perchwatcher, staring at the fire with narrowed eyes, lost in thought. Tree, who stared out into the forest for a few hours, but said nothing. Windfur, who stared up at the stars. Cottonpaw, who added more wood to the fire as prior ones burned into cinders. Barleywave, whose gaze stared at nothing and everything; distant and present all at once. Hopechase, who tried to convince Redstar to try and nap for at least an hour. Morningspot, who stared out into the woods for about as long as Redstar did while others came and went - until she physically couldn't stay awake and fell unconscious by the fire. By the time she woke up again, a look of guilt plagued her vision. Every single cat that came eventually returned to Redstar's den, finding dreamless sleep with the rest of their clanmates. Redstar felt like an oak - standing firm while animals and insects spun around her vicinity, taking comfort in familiar stalwartness. When Iciclepool came down before dawn, Redstar told her what she wanted to tell the Clan. Changes she wished to make. Hoping that her decisions were right. Iciclepool listened intently, and when Redstar finished, she nodded, and agreed.
Dawn came. Not that it mattered. Cats were up in the blue light before sunrise anyway.
Redstar spared them from thinking on empty stomachs. She cooked them leftover birds and mice to share - prey she was grateful was spared from the damage. Some cats ate. Some felt obligated to take a few bites, but couldn't stomach much more.
Redstar had spent the night mulling what to say to her Clan. She recited her words over and over again. She wasn't good at inspiring hope. That was Hopechase's strength. It was the very reason Redstar renamed her from Lightfoot to Hopechase.
She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.
When she was young, the story of the spear-ringed camp brought her hope. She wished for so long that she could be a gentle cat. Someone that brought others a gentle place to live in. She thought that just trying to sacrifice herself alone would do it. A naive thought. In between those feeds, what then? Was she supposed to trust the woods to leave them alone? No. This devastation was proof.
She should've known that she was never going to be a gentle leader, gifting cats of all ages and walks of life a peaceful, stress-free life where the mockeries of nature never tried to take more than they were given. She was a spear. She was always a spear-maker, a bush made of thorns, a ravine of spikes below a cliff. She was a weapon of magnicide. She could never be anything else.
So the least she could do is teach others how to wield those same spears. Redstar organized a coup, once. If she could convince a small group of cats that they were stronger than a StarClan-blessed secret keeper, then she could convince them that they could terrify a Gardener.
When Redstar finally walked past them, she stood on the High Rock and spoke.
"Let all cats - regardless of age or status - gather below the High Rock for a Clan meeting."
It didn't take long for every cat to gather below. The exhausted Shiverstep and three outsider kits included. Redstar briefly looked at her Clan - exhausted, afraid and helpless.
Not anymore.
"I don't need to speak of what happened the night before. We all know what happened. There are a few cats I want to speak to privately after this."
Redstar said this first for the sake of stifling conversation about Owlpaw's actions for a few minutes. She saw Branchsnarl, Deerpaw and Shadekit shift a little in their spots. Riversnow's tail wrapped around Owlpaw, eyes fierce. Owlpaw's gaze was locked to the floor, as it had been since she woke. Shiverstep also kept her gaze on the floor - but for a different reason. Redstar wanted to speak to her as well - but after Owlpaw.
"First. I wish to apologize for my failures."
There were a few confused mrrps that came from the crowd. A single "what?" came from Cottonpaw. Redstar continued.
"For a long time - I had hoped to make ForestClan a gentler place. I didn't want to raise terrified kits and nervous apprentices. I didn't want to expose cats to the horrors of the woods. I wanted…" Redstar swallowed. "I wanted to be a…a wall from that. If only I had to be exposed to the Deep Root entities regularly, then I could protect cats from staring them in the face. I could protect ForestClan from…this." Redstar scanned her gaze sadly over her home. A broken west wall. Broken warrior's den. Chipped walls. Broken pulleys, dug out ground and a dented apprentice den. A few cats murmured. Tree was brave enough to chirp in, their voice leveled.
"That was never going to be possible. At the very least, Living Tendrils would always get past."
"And kits don't stay kits forever." Perchwatcher seemed spurned by Tree's bravery, her blue eyes sharp with carved memory. "Apprentices and warriors would be exposed to them too on patrols."
"I'm…pretty sure Redstar's not being literal, guys," Barleywave meowed.
Redstar felt a needle through her heart as her Clan started to bicker. She fought every urge to retort as she remembered her place on the Rock. She remembered the golden and brown face of an enraged cat screaming down at them. She closed her eyes, and tried to allow the needle to go through her back. It hung on. Hurt.
"Quiet, please."
Redstar turned her head to see Iciclepool stepping out from the crowd and calmly sitting down at the base of the rock. She curled her tail around her paws and stood straight. Cats stared at the deputy.
"I know you have a lot of feelings and unspoken thoughts. A lot of resentment and pain. We are all frightened from the Gardener attack. If there is one thing I can implore of you this morning, please," Iciclepool's copper eyes were filled with a rare softness. "Listen to Redstar for just a few more minutes. I was consulted about this announcement before it was made. I think it is a good change. A necessary one."
Redstar stared down at her deputy. Iciclepool met her gaze with a smile. For a second, Redstar felt the urge to cry as she remembered the kit who was three moons younger than her in the nursery. She remembered teaching her the best way to crunch leaf-fall leaves. That's what she wished she could preserve, and she felt like maybe she was giving up on it with this announcement.
But maybe not. If Iciclepool, the cat who loved being a parent, believed this was right - then she had to believe that.
Redstar straightened and continued. "I hear your criticisms. And I understand. I will not pretend that my idealism did not result in a culture of misunderstandings and a source of pain. For this, I take all responsibility. That is my greatest failure."
Perchwatcher blinked, her ears flicking with attention. Tree relaxed, their eyes softening.
"My attempts to shield others about the horrors of the woods did not help. I am claiming responsibility for this coddling." Redstar omitted the fact that the rest of ForestClan's adult founders - Cloudthunder, Iciclepool, Hopechase, Barleywave and Windfur - contributed to their budding culture of reluctance as well. It didn't matter. She refused to let others cast resentment on them. "Because of my reluctance, a Gardener was allowed to follow our clanmates home. I was ill equipped to address it with the urgency it needed. It is thanks to Hopechase that we survived."
Hopechase's ear flicked.
"I never want this to happen to ForestClan again. So, I am seeking to make changes to the Code we follow. I call upon our warrior ancestors to witness these changes, and approve of my choice."
All eyes were on her now. She stared out beyond the walls. A fire burned in her chest as she resented every Woodcrawler, every Fake Being, every Infected Predator, Gardener and Nature's Mockery that grew and festered in ForestClan's woods.
I'm making weapons. You will regret ever letting me live. I'm coming for you.
"I seek to revise the Law of Informed Risk. It is not enough for the names, hunting methods or rarity of Deep Root entities to be emphasized. Lockdown procedures will be taught from a young age, and knowing how to deal with each creature will be taught before apprenticeship, not during. This process began with our newest members," Redstar glanced at the outsider kits, who stared back with wide, blue eyes. "But I am re-emphasizing it for official records, and it will cover all known creatures. For the sake of spoken record, the known Deep Root entities we are addressing are as follows; Woodcrawlers, Fake Cats, Fake Twolegs, Infected Predators, Nature's Mockery, Luring Lights, Living Tendrils, Gardeners, and the Wretch. "
A few murmurs erupted from the crowd, Deerpaw murmuring a bit too loudly, "Hasn't the Wretch only ever appeared once…?"
"Yes. That doesn't matter. Rarity should have zero influence on whether or not we have procedures against it. And we will practice these procedures, in every season. Iciclepool and I will discuss these revised processes before announcing and teaching them to the Clan. Second - I wish to introduce a new Law to the code."
More murmurs. She waited for the crowd to die down a bit before continuing.
"Ancestors of StarClan, as my witnesses, I am adding the Law of Fire. Fire use and management will be considered as vital as knowledge about the Deep Roots. From three moons old, kits will be taught about fire safety and fire management. They will learn how to maintain and tend to them with supervision from adults. Every apprentice and adult will be taught how to craft torches, create fires, and use them as weapons against various monsters. This applies to all Clan roles - clerics, healers, mediators and elders included. Any cats patrolling at night for any reason will require a cat to bring a torch."
There were a few meows of concern - Olive in particular raised her tail to speak, but spoke out regardless.
"That seems dangerous. There would be an increased risk of forest fires - something that could kill all cats very quickly."
"I am aware of the dangers of fire. Hence, the fire safety training. We will teach it as something dangerous, to be used with care and respect, not without thought. We will also create a procedure for escaping the forest in case of a forest fire - something that we should've always had in the first place, given how often Twolegs create and improperly extinguish them to begin with. In addition," Redstar raised her tail, "fire will not only be used as a weapon. I wish to find a way to establish standing torches around the camp, if possible. My reasoning for all of this is because of what Tree found the night prior. Iciclepool, if you could."
Cats watched as Iciclepool padded away, then came back with a linen bundle. She placed it in front of the small crowd, then unwrapped the linen. In the middle was the claw-like foot of the Gardener - half-charred, its dead, red tendons curled like the legs of dead spiders. Cats leaned in to inspect it - with Shadekit meowing loudly, "What's that?" and bouncing up to it. Half the Clan gasped and Shadekit was yanked back by Riftgorse.
"Do not touch it!" Riftgorse growled.
"Why? What is it?"
"You may remember the sound we heard before the Gardener fled. A loud crack. That night, we were saved by the cinders of the cooking fire. And that," Redstar gestured with her tail, "is its foot. The cinders blew it clean off. That is how weak they are to fire. We've used fire against Living Tendrils before, but now more than ever, we need the Deep Root entities to fear you. Because they should. It took a few pawfuls of cinders for the Gardener's foot to sever." The leader's eyes burned with intensity. "Fire is not a universal solution. Woodcrawlers are ambushers - too fast. Fake Beings are better isolated and avoided entirely until they naturally perish. But Infected Predators, Gardeners, Living Tendrils? We will teach you how to use it against them. We will make them hesitate. We will make them fear the weapon you wield. We are cats - hunters. They will respect that."
ForestClan stared up at Redstar attentively. A few were wary, some were unreadable. But more seemed quietly emboldened, tails flicking and shoulders straightening. Good enough. Wariness was understandable, given the night before and a lack of sleep. Redstar slumped, then sighed. She wasn't looking forward to this next part.
"That's all the major changes. But, now I have one final request." She paused for a bit, mentally preparing herself. "I know that there has been a lot of hesitation to share our thoughts and feelings with each other. We are all entitled to privacy. I am not here to force anyone to talk. However." Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the Clan. "Refusing to disclose vital information that could save someone's life, and bottling up our feelings towards Clanmates out of unspoken resentment, is not helping. I am not here to accuse or demean, but here is an example. Deerpaw," Redstar looked at the brown and white molly, and the apprentice seemed shocked to be called on. "Last greenleaf. When Cottonpaw spoke her intent to leave camp, what would've helped more? To wake up a warrior and tell them what happened right away, or to join her?"
Deerpaw shuffled meekly, staring at the floor. "I…I should've said something."
"Correct. Daffodilpaw, you said Owlpaw told you in the morning her intent to leave at night. What would've happened if you told Cloudthunder much earlier?"
Riversnow bristled, but Barleywave pressed his tail on her back. Daffodilpaw avoided Redstar's gaze, eyes glued to the floor. After a dozen seconds without any response, Redstar decided to spare the young apprentice.
"Cloudthunder could've talked to me, or your mother, or Iciclepool. We could've talked to Owlpaw."
Daffodilpaw finally squeaked. "I promised her not to…"
"Owlpaw could've died. I know you want to respect your sister, but yesterday could've ended very differently." Redstar scanned her gaze over the Clan, whose solemnity and anxiety rippled back into them. "So before we disband, I want to clear the air. As a Clan, right now. If there's anything that you are keeping from your Clanmates that you believe is very important, or if you have any feelings, apprehensions or unaired grievances you wish known, speak now."
A tense silence fell upon the Clan. As the rays of dawn began creeping up over the horizon, the songs of chickadees filled the quiet. Redstar curled her tail around herself. "...I will give it a few minutes. We all need time to think."
And so there were. Cats stared at the Gardener's severed foot. At their paws, at the ruined corners of camp. Redstar noticed Brackenfreckle gently raking her claws in between blades of grass, her eyes narrowed with thought. Cloudthunder glanced at the sky before darting her eyes elsewhere, clearly trying to formulate a sentence. Blackkit and Nectarkit stared at the floor. Shadekit stared up at Redstar, then finally raised one of his paws.
"...Yes, Shadekit? You wish to say something?" Iciclepool beckoned gently.
"Can I learn how to make fire now?" Shadekit asked.
A few cats broke down their wall of nervousness, a few mrrows of amusement erupting between them. Redstar's whiskers twitched, her eyes narrowing with mirth.
"Not right at this moment. But perhaps if we have time today, we can. There's a lot of work we have to do."
"...Can I insist someone else speak a secret?" Hopechase asked. Redstar tilted her head at her, confused by the wording.
"Elaborate?"
Hopechase glanced at Iciclepool, serious but compassionate. "Honey."
Iciclepool bristled. "Hopechase, not right now."
"That's alright. But before the end of this meeting, please."
"I…I…fine."
"...Should we be concerned?" Redstar asked, tense.
"I would've said no a few days ago, but…" Iciclepool sighed.
Airpaw stared at his mentor. After a few moments, he said calmly, "I guess I have a question."
"Yes?" Iciclepool pressed.
"Are you pregnant?"
Iciclepool bristled and choked back a squeak. Hopechase couldn't help but burst with laughter. Cottonpaw, Deerpaw and Cloudthunder all frantically tried to shush or glare at Airpaw, who seemed unfazed.
"Airpaw, come on, don't comment on someone's weight!" Deerpaw hissed.
"It's not that. It's fighting practice," Airpaw clarified politely. "I haven't learned rolling recoveries yet. I asked about it, but you were reluctant to show me 'cause of back pain. For…uh, two weeks straight. And, yeah, fine, the weight gain. It was fast."
"Your apprentice is a sharp one, Iciclepool," Hopechase said with a smirk.
"Hopechase, please," Iciclepool groaned.
"You're pregnant?" Shiverstep rasped with wide eyes.
"That surprises me too," Windfur tilted his head. "Why didn't - I mean, how long?"
Iciclepool winced, but seemingly gave up and slumped sadly. "Since last moon."
"What?" Redstar exclaimed. Oh my stars, what was her deputy doing? Why was she still active? "You've been pregnant for an entire month?"
"I was doing fine with my duties, really, and I wasn't quite sure how to break the news. I was going to do it soon, really, but then, well…"
"Mom, you need herbs! You need borage and herbs that are better for queens - " Shiverstep cut off her own complaint with a cough.
"Uh…This was a secret?" Riftgorse asked, head tilting.
"...Rift, what?" Brackenfreckle uttered, staring at her brother.
"Well, yeah! She wasn't, like, eating all of our food. We'd notice that. It's not a winter coat coming in, trust me, I have a winter coat, I know what that looks like, so I just figured Iciclepool already told everyone important, and nobody was talking about it. Actually, I was waiting for you to tell me," Riftgorse said, frowning at his sister.
"I didn't know shit, brother," Brackenfreckle hissed.
For a minute, the Clan fell into chaos yapping about Iciclepool's pregnancy. Iciclepool looked mortified. Redstar felt frustrated that her deputy didn't tell her anything. She had a suspicion, but she assumed that she'd tell her if it was something that important.
Oh StarClan. Assumptions and silence. This…all of this had to stop.
"Alright, alright, settle down please," Redstar yowled. "So, Iciclepool is pregnant. That is good to know. Let's move on. Does anyone else have something to add?"
"Actually, Iciclepool's pregnancy brings up a possible danger. The west wall collapsed," Perchwatcher piped up, gesturing with her tail at the broken gap. "Living Tendrils can easily slip in if this isn't repaired as quickly as possible."
"Actually, I can help with that," Barleywave spoke up, tail twitching. "I've had to repair a broken log on a wall before. This is…er…several, granted. But it should be the same process. We'll have to see how bad the damage is on individual logs to see if we need to replace it or caulk it."
"I suppose I should also ask," Olive interjected calmly. "Why are the procedures being set solely by you and Iciclepool? I believe it would be wise to set them as a group, publically."
A few cats meowed in agreement to this. Hesitant, Redstar's tail flicked.
"I suppose we could. I simply want to avoid confusion or conflict during the setup phase, hence why I wanted to keep it restricted."
"Why not make a temporary council? I think it's very important that we add multiple voices to the creation of these safety protocols. Redstar, you're headstrong, loyal, and determined. But the current lockdowns rely on every cat being where they should be - in your eyes, that's by your side. In reality, as seen yesterday, cats can be out there instead. We must have procedures to protect them, too, without endangering everyone else."
Olive's words stung, but Hopechase nodded sagely and gave Redstar a knowing look.
"I think that's a wise policy."
"Very well," Redstar meowed. "Anything else?"
For the next few minutes, Redstar watched as her clanmates spoke up, and added their voices, bit by bit. Some were ideas. Some were questions that desperately needed answers.
"I'm still not sure about wanting to put torches outside of camp. That sounds like a dangerous idea."
"I'm not okay. I don't understand why we're acting like a beast with the light of a star didn't just try to kill us all. I don't want to die."
"Redstar, I want to reach out to my father, Lucifer. Maybe he'd be willing to help us."
"...Fine. Look, I need to know something. I think, before I joined the Clan, I was…maybe given misinformation. Some of it might be true, but I don't know what's real or not. So tell me straight, and be honest. Don't pussyfoot around this. Has ForestClan, at any point in its history, spoken to Woodcrawlers?"
"Redstar, I…I met Endless, once, back last leafbare…b-but that's it, I promise, s-she was injured, so…so I gave her some of our horsetail. I haven't seen her since, I promise."
"...Morningspot is trying to cover for me. She didn't give the horsetail. I did. Morningspot asked me for help. Endless didn't want to come to camp, and I couldn't force her. I gave her the best treatment I could with what I had, and she left. Last time I saw her was…the moon Brackenfreckle and I came back with Blavignad's kits."
"...Can we like…raid the Twolegplace? No, no, I'm serious! Have you seen what Twolegs have? They have like, these colorful sticks that if you hold them near wood, they catch fire? It makes a 'click' sound when it happens. That could be helpful, right?"
"I…I want to say something specific, but I'd like to say it in private. I don't know if anything can be done about it."
"I'm mad. I'm just mad and upset and I want to blame someone but I don't…I don't feel like I'm allowed to."
"I, uh…hm. Mousedung, I forgot what I was going to say. Sorry."
"Can I learn how to make a fire now?! I want to kill the Gardener!"
"I'm really scared about the broken wall. I don't know how long it'll take to fix it, and I'm scared something else might come through."
"I just want to make the offer that if anyone wants to talk about what happened last night - whether you're scared or don't know how to feel - I'm willing to listen without interruption. I don't just mediate disagreements. Sometimes it's good to just…speak."
Redstar at some point had to call the meeting short. But hearing the voices of her clanmates, and listening to their words, for once, felt humbling. She was grateful, at least, that they had enough courage to say how they felt. Ask difficult questions.
The only one remained quiet the entire way through, was Owlpaw.
Redstar would have a long talk with her in private shortly. Plans were made to create a council once time-sensitive repairs were complete. Redstar told Iciclepool to come see her after she assigned groups to help rebuild the walls and start working on the dens. She watched with some quiet awe as cats slowly started picking up branches, covering up holes, and gathering broken pieces of equipment.
It was a start.
---
Redstar has an extremely difficult conversation with Owlpaw, who is still clinging - perhaps out of fear and shame - to a defiant attitude. Redstar scares her straight and punishes her for her actions.
Getting Owlpaw into Redstar's den was the easy part. Getting her to speak was not.
"Owlpaw. Please answer the question."
Owlpaw stared at the floor.
"Did you hear me?"
"...Yeah," she mumbled.
"...Did you need a minute to gather your thoughts before answering?" Redstar decided that this was probably something Iciclepool would say to a seemingly stubborn apprentice. Redstar really, really, did not want to play a disciplinary villain. She assumed, given the horrifying events of the night before, that Owlpaw would've recognized how badly her actions affected the Clan. Perhaps shown remorse, like Cottonpaw did for her own actions before. But that was the problem - Owlpaw had to actually show it.
But Redstar wasn't a mind reader. An apprentice with her eyes glued to the floor and giving one-word answers wasn't a sign of anything except stonewalling.
Owlpaw said nothing.
Redstar's tail twitched. She scowled.
Owlpaw was always difficult. She did not listen to adults well, defied direct orders and lashed out at her peers easily. The fact that she didn't believe Deep Root Entities were real completely blew Redstar's mind when Daffodilpaw said it - Owlpaw kept that belief extremely well-guarded for a kit, and her refusal to express it led to her doing something extremely dangerous. Given that the worst possible thing that could have happened - minus the Wretch burrowing out from beneath them - actually happened, she needed to hear from her directly that she no longer held that belief, and that she would listen to camp procedures and safety protocols now.
"Owlpaw, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Right now, you are choosing the hard way. I do not want the hard way. It'll be frustrating for you, not for me."
Owlpaw's tail flinched, but still - nothing.
"I'll ask only one last time. Do you believe us now when we say that there are monsters in the woods?"
Owlpaw scowled, closing her eyes tightly. Her claws dug into the ground. Finally, after a long moment, Owlpaw…nodded. Almost imperceptibly, as though it physically hurt her to do so. Redstar suppressed a sigh. Good enough.
"Do you understand now why we have the rules we do?"
Long silence again. Redstar scowled, her patience wearing thin. She did not have time for this, she had to get through speaking to Iciclepool, then Shiverstep.
"Owlpaw, you're taking the hard way again. I don't want that for you."
Owlpaw opened her eyes. They swirled like grey storm clouds. She finally cast her gaze on the leader, and they were glazed with resentment.
"I don't care what you want."
A switch flipped in Redstar's head, and for a brief second, there was regret. Disappointment.
I'm sorry, Riversnow. I know you were worried how I'd react. I tried.
"Do you, now? Very well. Then let me make this easy for me, and get straight to the point." Redstar's gaze hardened, and for a moment, she could've sworn an iota of fear passed through Owlpaw's eyes like a shooting star. Redstar didn't raise her voice. She didn't want to. "You almost destroyed everything and everyone you knew and loved because of your arrogance. For moons, we told you about Deep Root entities because they were real, and they were dangerous. Never in my entire life have I seen a cat actively try and find a monster, just to prove themselves right."
Owlpaw opened her mouth to retort, but Redstar interjected with a snarl, snapping at the air. Owlpaw flinched. "I wanted to have you acknowledge your mistakes, and apologize for your actions. But you didn't care what I wanted, so you've lost that privilege. You will have to earn that forgiveness now. You will have what you asked for instead."
Owlpaw began loudly, "I didn't ask for - "
"SILENCE!"
Owlpaw froze, her ears flattening. The world outside Redstar's den froze. ForestClan clearly heard her. Redstar continued with a hiss in every word.
"You could've died. I need to emphasize just how lucky you are to be alive right now. Daffodilpaw says you think they're just boogeymen to scare children? Then I will give you the rare gift of my complete honesty. Let me tell you about the adult-scaring boogeymen.
"Woodcrawlers aren't just 'spider-like creatures that disguise as brambles'. Woodcrawlers are wood mimics. Absolutely anything that takes the appearance of bare branches can be a Woodcrawler. Every single bramble, every thorn bush, every pile of dead, curling wood, small tree, lifted roots, and dying shrub could be a Woodcrawler. They purposefully hide in dense foliage where you're likely to miss them, or huddle into patches of roots, waiting for you to do a regular border patrol. You could've grazed past one without even knowing in the middle of the night, and then died. You would've felt their limbs wrap around your legs and neck, and be powerless to stop them from dragging you into the depths of their tunnels.
"Fake Cats aren't Woodcrawlers disguised as cats. They are the reanimated bodies of their victims. You could've heard a cat screaming for help, and in a flicker of compassion, or even morbid curiosity, approached the sound of a crying cat. And the second you get too close, it will unravel and seize you. It will try to kill you like a Woodcrawler. Perchwatcher almost died to one as an apprentice, her jaw broken from its tendrils. If you die to either of these entities, you become a Fake Cat. Your loved ones will hear your voice screaming for help for days, and they will not be able to save you - because you are long gone.
"But last night, you encountered a Gardener. A thing so rare and horrible that I've never seen one until last night. I have no interest in finding out how it kills you. But you almost did. You were out there that night, and led it straight back to camp, nearly killing everyone you knew and loved. And situations like this, Owlpaw, is why we had archaic rules like 'if a cat vanishes at nightfall, and does not reappear in the morning, they are dead'. Sending out a search party in the middle of the night was a suicide mission. It was considered for the greater good to let one cat die, than risk anything else being lured back to camp.
"I've given you the truth. Do you feel better now? Does this make them more believable to you? Do you feel vindicated from this?"
Owlpaw's expression morphed as Redstar spoke. There was still anger, still resentment, a childish rebuke clearly boiling at the surface. But Redstar knew better from Owlpaw's long fur bristling on all ends and tears welling up in her eyes. Shame. Hurt. Anger rooted in fear.
"You almost killed ForestClan. And instead of apologizing for the fact that you almost killed twenty cats, you wanted to sit in front of me and say foxdunged-all, and then dared to tell me that you don't care what some other cat wanted."
"...That's not what I meant."
"Owlpaw, when a cat says, 'I don't want you to take the hard path', and your response is, 'I don't care what you want', there is no other meaning. Nobody can read your mind, nor are they going to waste their precious time trying to do so. When you talk, they will trust that you actually mean exactly what you say. If you didn't actually mean this, then why say it?"
"I…I don't know."
"All I asked was for you to talk to me. That's it. After we just spent over an hour at a meeting, with all of your clanmates opening up about things they never voiced before, I thought that maybe, just maybe, you would've grown up from this experience."
Owlpaw stared back at the floor, ears pinned back. For a second, Redstar thought she was trembling. The leader's tail flicked.
"Since you evidently haven't, here's what's going to happen instead. First, you're going to tear your eyes off the ground and look at me."
Owlpaw did so. The corner of her eyes were red.
"You're going to look around the camp, look at every single broken den and wall, and you're going to ask Barleywave how you can help with repairing them. You led the Gardener here. So you're going to take responsibility helping to fix the damage. Then, starting tomorrow, Morningspot is going to come up with a suitable punishment for you to fulfill for an entire moon. Then, and this is incredibly important. I will not force you to do this, but it would be beneficial." Redstar closed her eyes and sighed. "...I want you to actually talk to someone. It doesn't matter if it's your mother, or Morningspot, or Olive, or whoever. But we're not your enemy. We're your clanmates. We cannot have situations where cats run off on their own, not after last night. Am I understood?"
The two mollies glared at each other, until Redstar's seriousness won out, and Owlpaw reluctantly nodded.
"Say it."
"I understand."
"Good. You're dismissed. Go talk to Barleywave. I've told him to expect you."
Redstar couldn't catch Owlpaw's face as she briskly left the den, and jumped down from High Rock. Redstar exhaled, forcing herself to groom her back. The spike of anger fuelling her adrenaline crashed, and Redstar realized just how tired she felt.
And she still had to talk to two more cats. StarClan, please.
---
Shiverstep has an honest talk with Windfur and Redstar about her trances. She does bring up her nightmare about Endless, and how it was similar to what Cottonpaw saw. To her relief, there's a term for cats like her before - dream walkers. Shiverstep's still not quite sure if that's what's actually happening, but she takes the scapegoat.
The meeting with Iciclepool went smoother than she was expecting. In the end, it boiled down to fear. Iciclepool wanted this, Hopechase wanted this, they found a sire out eastward and everything - but the moment it became real, she froze in all aspects. Thoughts plagued her relentlessly - she was the Clan deputy, she'd be giving birth close to winter, she had an apprentice to mentor, and perhaps above all, the memory of failing to actually be a mother that could watch her children grow hurt. All Redstar had to do was reassure her and promise to protect her and her kits as best as they could, and with the new Law of Fire, cats would be more comfortable and prepared to ward off threats. And Hopechase, of course, would be defending her staunchly. And she was still ForestClan's deputy, even if she was a queen for a few moons.
The real revelatory conversation was with Shiverstep.
Meanwhile, Shiverstep was internally panicking.
Iciclepool told her that she said some very concerning things when the Gardener knocked at the den. Shiverstep didn't remember any of it, just like alleged trances she had as a child. It was several moons since anything similar happened to her, and there was no way to pretend it didn't happen - not anymore. What was she supposed to say? The greatest thing that frightened her was having to talk about Rootgrove.
Because Rootgrove was...something true horror was made from. She tried to reflect on how to tell someone, as the voices on the waves from beyond suggested. But the longer she thought about it, the more horrifying it became. Yes, dear friends, there is a very old cat that was consumed by the woods, and instead of killing him, something happened that kept him alive. She had no idea how. But if what she said was true, then when they died, when their kits and children and friends and family died, there was a chance that the woods would take their spirits and trap them, and that not even StarClan could save you if it did. And from how Rootgrove spoke over the Silver Box, the process was pure agony, constant pain, misery and wailing and screaming to a universe that responded with apathy. Oh, stars, she couldn't. She couldn't, couldn't. She...how could she? How could she tell Iciclepool that her dead kits might've suffered fates worse than death? How could she tell Hopechase that every dead clanmate she ever knew might've become monsters?
Rootgrove is the only one she ever saw in this state. In her horror, she had no idea if he was the only one. StarClan implied that he was. But she couldn't prove that to her Clanmates. Not all of them spoke to StarClan. Not all of them even believed StarClan was real. But Rootgrove wasn't a concept, something to have faith in. He existed physically. He was living evidence that you could die, and still be conscious. Rotting. Stretching. Carved and husked as a shell for something else. And feel all of it.
How? How was she supposed to explain her ability to...to receive messages? And that she was hearing the messages from...from this monstrosity?
Redstar's ear twitched as she saw the sickly molly nearly tremble in fear. "...Shiverstep? Are you alright?"
"...I...I don't know," Shiverstep spoke, her voice a mere squeak.
"...Were you told what happened last night?"
"...I...I said...concerning things," she meowed.
"Were you aware of it?"
"No."
"Then yes. I would call this concerning." Redstar's tail twitched. "Has this happened to you before?"
Despite her terror, a part of Shiverstep...wanted to be honest. And...she felt if Redstar was determined, all she had to do is prod Windfur or Iciclepool to ask if she was telling the truth. She shuffled uncomfortably. "...Yes."
"When?"
Oh, StarClan, please.
"I...I don't remember."
"...But it has happened. Has someone spoken to you about this before?"
Shiverstep felt her heard racing. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to talk about all the times Windfur regarded with suspicion. Avoided her. Oh, stars. He must've thought she was speaking to the Iris. She wasn't. She really wasn't. She didn't want Redstar to think so too. She wasn't a monster. She wasn't a herald. She wasn't trying to receive -
A small crack of light broke through the haze of her illness. She felt herself sniffling. She felt a burst of fresh air enter her lungs again. For a brief moment, she...she remembered one of your spoken sentences. And in the haze of her sickness, it somehow became shifted sideways.
"If you're ready to, tell Redstar and Windfur about us. They'll be more receptive than you'd hope, I'm sure."
You. You. But what were you, exactly? You were just - just messages, just voices on electromagnetic waves that she openly received without choice -
Something clicked.
Wait.
StarClan's explanation. Of her ability, of how she kept receiving messages on waves on all fronts. Pieces started falling together and for a moment, she felt delirious.
"...Shiverstep?"
Hold on. Wait. StarClan told her that dreams were how they used to communicate with the Clans. StarClan used electromagnetic waves to do so. Endless. If Endless was somehow emitting waves, then that could explain how Cottonpaw received the dream about the crow-footed tree, and also explains how Shiverstep received a similar nightmare a few days ago. That - wait, that explained how she saw Rootgrove in her nightmare as well - he was screaming for help, and his waves were caught on her dream. Rootgrove could transmit messages - that's how she heard him at the Silver Box. But Endless. Endless had to have gained that same ability. Maybe as a result of Rootgrove's attack on her - she didn't know how, but that was the only explanation.
If she was going to be seized by foreign messages on waves in times of stress, and if Endless was communing with the Deep Root entities...the Clan had to know. Shiverstep's eyes widened.
"Shiverstep, are you alright? You seem pale. Do you need - "
If they had to know about Endless...then they had to know about...the Woodcrawler she made a bargain with.
The Clan didn't need to know about Rootgrove the cat. But they did need to know about the monstrous, corrupted Woodcrawler.
Relief. Freedom.
Shiverstep started crying.
She doesn't really know what happened. She remembered apologizing repeatedly and trying to push Redstar away from her, suddenly remembering that she still had greencough and felt absurd levels of horrible. A coughing fit. The relief of being able to tell someone about the horrible monster in a way that benefitted the Clan instead of jeopardized its sanity overwhelmed her choices. Because somehow she ended up asking for Windfur, and now to her partial regret, the three secret holders were gathered in this den while she was having a coughing fit.
Finally, after regaining herself, she managed to start.
"A few moons ago," she sniffled, "StarClan...told me something important. I...I asked them about Cottonpaw's dream. I also...realized that at sudden points in my life, when I was stressed, I would lose my memory sometimes. I think...I think Windfur, you might've thought it was from the Iris. So did StarClan."
Windfur bristled, but stared at the ground in shame. Redstar, meanwhile, had her tail and neck lifting, a genuine stare of dread on her face.
"I-It wasn't the Iris, it wasn't, Redstar," Shiverstep suppressed a cough. "B-But...after observing me for a few moons, they concluded something strange. StarClan...before the Wretch...used to freely communicate with cats through dreams. They used...um, they called it 'waves'. Waves are...invisible forces in the air that emit off of living things. Sometimes, though, if you're capable of emitting waves strong enough, you can put messages on them. For cats, we've been able to receive those messages through dreams."
"Wait. Time out." Windfur raised his tail, his eyes shut. He took a deep breath, as though letting this fact sink in. "Just...let me make sure I understand correctly here. StarClan has the ability to send messages through a...specific tool. But that tool is also just an energy that passively emits off of everything."
Shiverstep nodded. "Yes. They...refine the energy around themselves, and direct it towards someone with a message."
"And to receive the message, we need to be dreaming."
"Yes."
"Okay," Windfur sighed. "Continue."
Shiverstep turned to Redstar for permission, who nodded, intently focused.
"As I said...waves emit off of...everything. We were only able to receive messages from StarClan for the longest time, but...they told me that I was...odd. I could...receive messages from other sources, as long as that source wasn't impeded. I was safe from the Iris, because StarClan was intervening with it. But...other things have the ability to send messages. And...I think I'm...receiving messages from those...other things. From the recent experience I guess...that implies I can receive them while I'm asleep or awake. But I can't send my own, which...I don't really know what that means, but that's what StarClan said. I don't know how much of it is relevant, or just random, but..."
"What you said the night of the Gardener attack - it was both...relevant and irrelevant at the same time." Redstar commented.
"...What did I say?" Shiverstep partially dreaded to know.
"More significantly, 'Do not answer the knocking at the door.'" Windfur's tail tapped the ground, his dark blue eyes flickering with unknown emotion. "But, then you said words that didn't...sound cat-like. I think the best I can compare it to are kittypet names."
"Like?" Shiverstep pressed.
Redstar's ear twitched. "Adam Lev itch? Barry John's son? It was...hectic. I'm sorry, Shiverstep. That wasn't really a priority. The Gardener...was hitting at the roof of the bunker."
Shiverstep's heart sunk deeply into her chest. She was told the Gardener stepped on a fire and ran away, but before that...
Stars, that's horrifying.
"...So, you receive random messages emitted from...the same tools StarClan used to communicate to cats in their dreams. Is that...not concerning?" Windfur asked, his voice tight. For a moment, defensiveness curled in Shiverstep's chest, remembering his actions towards her in her apprenticehood.
She retorted, "Twolegs know how to use them too. That's how the Iris targets them."
A heavy silence fell. Shiverstep's eyes became glued to the floor.
...She had to go on. She had to get this information out before she lost her nerve. With a tightness in her chest, she proposed what she believed was the source of Cottonpaw's dream. Endless. Because she saw something similar as well, in a nightmare a few days before. And if that was the case, Endless was able to emit those same waves, somehow. And if she could do that - if she could call to beings in their dreams, to anything receptive enough to receive it, then it was a possible danger to ForestClan.
During this explanation, Redstar's gaze intensified. Slowly, as time went on, her pupils dilated.
Shiverstep looked concerned. "...Redstar?"
"I understand now. Shiverstep, it's alright. You're alright." Redstar pressed a paw on the cleric's shoulder, and Shiverstep was taken aback from the softness in the leader's eyes. "There's a historical basis for cats like you. I was a bit lost from your explanation, but when you explained your dreams, and how you saw the same one Cottonpaw did - Shiverstep, you're a dream walker. You can walk into dreams not intended for you. Messages not intended for you. Cats like you have existed in ForestClan's history before. It's exceedingly rare, but it's a gift."
Shiverstep froze. "It....it is?" A trickle of doubt wrestled in her. She wasn't...quite sure if that was what was actually happening. But as she caught Windfur from corner of her eye suddenly having a look of realization, she decided...perhaps that was easier. A...a word to explain in simple terms to others what was occurring. Especially if something similar happened like the night before.
"...Redstar, there's one more thing I think I need to tell you, if I can tell you in private. It's...it's about the Woodcrawler Brackenfreckle and I were threatened by, last greenleaf..."
----
Redstar finds Cottonpaw trying to be helpful around camp. She's...digging a hole between the leader's den and medicine den? After hearing her reasoning, she agrees it's something they should discuss. While Cottonpaw is still likely to act before thinking, Redstar is proud of Cottonpaw's progress.
Barleywave and Branchsnarl find that the Twoleg object cuts wood well when dropped. It's not perfect, but they could reuse some of the broken logs by flattening the broken ends, and stacking them on top of each other. They congratulate each other for a job well done.
Riversnow is surprisingly competant at repairing tanning and drying racks, but goes a bit too long without eating. Barleywave urges her to take a break. As it turns out, near-death experiences tend to result in more honesty.
All the apprentices and kits avoid Owlpaw. Although they won't say it out loud - they blame her for bringing the Gardener to camp. Except for Cottonpaw. Owlpaw hasn't spoken since the night she saw the Gardener.
Redstar is frustrated when she starts coughing and her nose starts running. Brackenfreckle confines her to the medicine den, telling her that Shiverstep still has greencough, and she doesn't want to risk her whitecough becoming something more than that.
