Red Sun Rising: Chapter Twenty-Two
(AO3 counterpart here.)
When Firestar finally opened his eyes again, the emptiness of the den was something he had become accustomed to. It was the fact that he was in the warrior’s den that surprised him.
He hauled himself out of his nest, stiff in a way that stretching would not help. Still, he took a few longer steps than usual as he ambled out into the night.
Camp was quiet. If he had to guess, at least two patrols’ worth of cats were gone. Probably out hunting or checking the border or something. Dustpelt wasn’t around; he must have been leading one of them. Firestar made a mental note to thank him when he got back.
“Honeymouse?” came a cautiously soft voice.
Firestar looked up to see Goldenflower across the way, padding up to him with big, worried golden eyes. Squirrel was scampering along behind her, and in the nursery Rainkit and Sootkit had their heads poked out, eyeing the newcomer kitten.
Goldenflower towered over Firestar, but she somehow looked very small as she nervously asked, “How are you feeling?”
Did he look like that much of a mess?
“Back in my head again,” he said. “I was… outside of my body for a bit yesterday.”
“Oh, love…” Goldenflower lowered her broad head and gave him a lick between his ears. “I heard about Scourge.” Her muzzle twitched a bit, like she was trying to find the right words. “That you… that you were the one to defeat him.”
“I gutted him,” Firestar said dully.
Goldenflower did not manage to restrain her flinch as well as she probably hoped she did.
“That…” she managed after a moment. “That’s what I heard, but I didn’t believe it.”
Firestar looked somewhere in the direction of her chest, not wanting to see the night sky, where the stars glared down in disapproval.
“You can’t let the guilt consume you,” she said, soft and soothing and not helping him at all. “You did what you had to do—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Some weak spark flickered in his chest, but he was too tired to tell what emotion it was. “No one should have to die like that. I don’t care who they are.”
Goldenflower wisely chose not to say anything to that. She just started grooming the top of his head, attempting a purr.
“How come you’re all sad about it?” Squirrel came around Goldenflower’s right, small ears perked as she looked curiously at Firestar through a tilted head. “Don’t cats die a lot here?”
“Well, yes, but we don’t kill each other.” Goldenflower spoke to her now between licks. “Clans have a special law that says we aren’t allowed to kill another cat except in self-defense.”
Squirrel frowned. “That’s dumb. What if they kill you first?”
“Then they’d get in trouble,” Goldenflower replied. “And they’d have to pay for our lost lives with food to make up for it.”
The scrawny kit’s ears wobbled back and forth as she thought this over, still frowning a little.
“Why aren’t you allowed to kill?” she finally asked.
“Because it’s wrong.”
“Why is it wrong?”
“It hurts,” Firestar said quietly, before Goldenflower could respond. “It hurts the dead cat’s friends and family. And it hurts the cat who killed them.”
Squirrel looked at him now, eyes round.
“Where you come from, you don’t have much of a choice. There’s too many of you for everyone to survive comfortably.” Firestar forced himself to raise his voice a little. “But here, there’s no good reason to kill another cat. We have plenty of food and safe homes and good friends. Taking away someone’s friend and a Clan’s source of food shouldn’t ever happen by another cat’s claws.”
Goldenflower’s eyes softened a little with something like relief.
Squirrel looked intrigued. “So you can’t even kill a kitten?”
The relief was swiftly replaced with horror. “Stars above, no! Killing a kit is even worse than killing an adult!”
“But we’re small and don’t fight back that good,” Squirrel said. “It’s super easy.”
“Which is why you should never even be hit, let alone killed.” Goldenflower’s fur flared in preemptive protectiveness. “We have laws that keep kits like you safe from any danger. Especially adults.”
“Huh!” Squirrel nodded thoughtfully. “That’s weird. I like it, though.”
Goldenflower’s outraged face silenced the very, very dim sense of grim amusement in Firestar’s mind.
“Oh, also, also—” Squirrel tilted her head the other way. “What’s StarClan? Is that like this place, RumbleClan*?”
Goldenflower opened her mouth to answer, but a loud squeak from the nursery made her look back. She turned to Firestar and he flicked a paw to kindly dismiss her (or about as kindly as he could get right now). When she trotted off to the kits, who were squealing at each other, he sat down and beckoned Squirrel closer with his tail. It came as a relief for her to scoot up and plop her rear down too, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Something about the earnestness of her face soothed him a little.
“There are four Clans here on earth,” he said to her. “Have you heard all their names? No? We’re ThunderClan, and there’s also WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan. But there’s one more Clan that lives in the sky. Their name is StarClan.”
“Cats live in the sky?” Squirrel asked eagerly.
“The dead ones do,” Firestar replied softly. “When Clan cats die, they join their families and ancestors in StarClan, and they help guide the cats who are still alive. Do you know Cinderpelt?”
Squirrel stuck out her jaw as she thought. “Is that the one with the bad leg?”
Firestar nodded. “Her job is to talk to StarClan so we know what to do when hard decisions and dangerous times come along. Just like when your mother sees special things like the future, or knows things she shouldn’t.”
“Ohhhh…” Squirrel nodded back exaggeratedly. “Yeah, Mi is good at that. OH! Does that mean she’ll go to StarClan when she dies, too?”
Firestar hummed. “If we can bring her to live with us for the rest of her life, she will. You will, too, if you stay here.”
“Woooow!” The little kit’s entire face was stretched in amazement. “And– and then what? Do you talk to cats all the time after you die?”
He took a moment to think about what he had been told in bits and pieces throughout his time as a warrior. “A lot of souls like to rest for as long as they want, and make friends they couldn’t when they were alive, and eat the best-tasting prey in the world. But some very special cats go to serve our three gods beyond what a normal StarClan cat can do—solve problems we’re not smart enough to solve on our own, or catch dangerous souls who are escaping justice, or read the future and warn us of dangers to come.”
It was a palpable compress of peace and steadiness on his mind to tell the stories he had heard to a young, eager student. It made him forget, just a little, what he had done.
“Gods,” Squirrel echoed. “What’re gods?”
“They’re like a leader, but incredibly powerful and they live forever.”
“Are they cats too?”
“Not quite, but sort of. There’s a lion named Horoa, and a tiger named Rokhar, and a leopard named Suriin.” He had to stop himself from describing his meeting with the Lion when he’d ascended to leadership. Cinderpelt had warned him that it was only for him to know. “They’re very big, and very strong. Horoa has a mane, and Rokhar has stripes, and Suriin has spots.”
He wasn’t doing a good job of explaining the Three in a properly awe-inspiring way, he knew that, but Squirrel looked enchanted nonetheless.
“A mane like Thornclaw had?” she asked. “Was he like Horoa?”
Firestar’s whiskers twitched despite himself. “A bit. His father actually looked so much like Horoa that his name was Lionface. Thornclaw got his looks from him. And he was very brave and always wanted to do the right thing for our Clan. Maybe Horoa will ask him to join him in catching bad spirits and keeping the Clans safe.” At the very least, he gets to meet his father properly.
Squirrel was faced towards him, but her eyes were distant, her imagination visibly running wild. “I wanna meet Horoa. And Suriin, and Roka– Rokhar. Do I get to when I die? Oh—” Her face fell for just a moment. “What if they don’t like me? What if StarClan doesn’t like me ‘cuz I’m not from the Clans?”
“Don’t worry,” Firestar said gently. “As long as you live here, and do your best to be a good cat, StarClan will be happy to have you. The Three will, too.”
“So she is staying.”
Firestar and Squirrel turned their heads; Sandstorm and Dustpelt, with Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw in tow, had just entered camp and were approaching them.
Sandstorm’s tone was dry, but her face was creased with amusement. “I should’ve known you meant to keep her here for good. Let me guess, her mother’s staying, too?”
“As soon as we can find her and invite her in,” Firestar confirmed.
Sandstorm huffed, more jokingly than genuinely. “I suppose we could use another seer. But she better decide to change her name. I’m not calling her ‘Oracle’.”
“You be nice about Mi!” Squirrel’s fur puffed out in outrage.
With a look of surprising affection, Sandstorm trotted up and ruffled Squirrel’s head-fur. “Just making jokes, chrii. Your mi is fine.”
Squirrel pouted at the mussing of her fur, but her swipe at Sandstorm’s retreating paw seemed friendly. Sandstorm gave a rare purr which faltered and stopped as soon as her eyes lifted from the kit to Firestar. She glanced questioningly at Dustpelt, as did a nervous-looking Bramblepaw and a narrow-eyed Tawnypaw. The deputy, his eyes flicking over to Firestar, gave one grunt. The other three turned to the side and trotted off in different directions, Bramblepaw continuously glancing at Firestar with a worried face.
“Squirrel, why don’t you go play with the other kits?” Dustpelt said. “I need to talk with Firestar.”
The kit squinted at him, then checked with Firestar. He nodded silently. With that, she whirled around and trotted off to the nursery, where Sootkit and Rainkit were sitting with Willowpelt.
“Hey, guys!” she shouted. “Guess what I learned!”
Firestar watched her, faintly humored, until Dustpelt leaned in and murmured, “How are you doing?”
Immediately, all of his good mood vanished. It was like a rock had fallen from the sky and crushed him: suddenly it took everything he had to just keep his front legs straight.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Dustpelt sighed through his nose. “Please don’t lie to me.”
Firestar couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Just tired.”
“I—” Dustpelt glanced around, like he wanted to make sure they weren’t being overheard. His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in. “Look, you don’t have to talk to me about it, but you should with someone. You looked miserable even in your sleep. I told everyone to leave you alone and let you rest, and, well, they’re all worried about you, now.”
Firestar felt his eyes narrow a little. “How much do they know?”
“You were the one to kill Scourge.” Dustpelt gave a fraction of a wince at whatever must have been on Firestar’s face. “I didn’t, uh… I didn’t inform them about how. But I’m sure someone told.”
“Mm.” Firestar’s eyes went to the ground.
Dustpelt’s paws shuffled a little. “Did you tell anyone?”
“Goldenflower.”
“Oh.” Dustpelt’s voice was very uneasy. “And… did she say anything?”
“Just that it had to be done.” Firestar was unconscious of his claws unsheathing and sinking into the sand. “That seems to be all anyone has to say about it.”
“…Firestar—”
“Do not.” Firestar looked up into his eyes, his chest flashing with brief anger and his teeth slightly clenched. “Don’t you dare tell me that too. I don’t want to hear it.”
Dustpelt’s mouth was open, but whatever he had to say, he swallowed and lowered his eyes. “Sorry.”
The anger subsided as Firestar took in a slow breath and let it out even slower. His voice was calm, if a little dead. “Is there anything that needs to be done? I can schedule a patrol—”
This, Dustpelt could respond to with his usual sternness. “Absolutely not. You’re not doing anything but resting. I’ve taken care of everything tonight.”
Firestar regarded him with some surprise. “Are you sure?”
“Haven’t been more certain of anything in my life.” Dustpelt jerked his chin up. “I’d order you to go to your den or take a walk to clear your head, but I don’t have the authority to push a leader around.”
“Leaders aren’t untouchable,” Firestar said, almost under his breath, mostly to himself. He spoke louder. “I guess I can rest, then. But anyone is allowed to visit me with whatever they want. Including you, including the kits, everyone.”
“Of course.” Dustpelt paused. “Uh, will you be in the leader’s den?”
Firestar thought of the cat in the walls. The eyes he couldn’t stop seeing when he closed his own.
“No,” he said. “I need to hear everyone’s voices. Just tell them I’m in the back of the warrior’s den if they want me.”
Dustpelt nodded, standing straight and stiff as Firestar slowly turned back and started for the den. He made the wise decision not to say anything else.
The pitch of the den’s bushy walls greeted Firestar kindly, enveloping him in a shroud of comfort. He made his way to the back, where a nest by a small opening in the branches sat like a loyal pet. He at least managed to circle before laying down this time. Eyes shut, nose buried between his paws, he listened absently to the noise of camp outside.
“Of course she’s staying!” came Goldenflower’s sharp voice. “I don’t care if her mother wants to leave once she gets here. I am NOT sending a kitten back to those horrible streets.”
“Should’ve figured that’d be your stance.” Sandstorm snorted. “Then she’ll need to get a name-change.”
Squirrel’s voice now. “I gotta change my name? Why?”
“So you’ll be a proper Clan cat, love,” Goldenflower said. “Wouldn’t you like that?”
“Weeeeelllll… If it gets me to StarClan, I guess.”
“Oh, Firestar did tell you about that? What did you learn?”
“Oh! I learned—”
Firestar didn’t hear any more. Sleep, shallow and unsatisfying, took him.
*ThunderClan’s feline name is “Ronamir”. “Rona” means “a loud noise”, which could translate to “thunder” as easily as “rumble” or “roar”. These variations are usually specified with a body gesture, like a twitch of an ear or the slight squinting of one’s eyes. Squirrel has been hearing “Rona” without knowing the word also means “thunder”.
