summer solstice today, technically the longest day of the year. more light right now than on any other day. do something with it if you can, even something small that feels like you chose it for yourself
The Longest Day festival was supposed to be fun. That’s what Ripplepaw had been told. It was a time for games, for feasting, for running under the sun until your paws ached. And at first, it was exactly that.
The neutral clearing was transformed. HoneyClan had strung flower garlands between the trees, their scents cloying and sweet, and woven bright petals into the grass. Fat bees buzzed lazily through the air, drawn by the honey-soaked treats piled onto wide, flat stones. Cats from every clan mingled, laughing and sharing stories. Ripplepaw had even started to enjoy himself, grinning as his brother signed the stories to him dramatically.
The morning was filled with warmth and laughter, chasing each other and seeing his friends. He even made flower crowns for his mothers.
Then he caught sight of Mallowstripe.
The camp keeper sat stiffly near the gathered warriors of SaltClan, his tail curled tightly around himself. His eyes darted between their clanmates, lingering too long on Wolfstar, on Snowspeckle, on Lynxdawn. It wasn’t the usual nervous energy Ripplepaw had come to expect from him—no, this was something else. His fur was puffed ever so slightly, his claws flexing against the dirt.
Ripplepaw hesitated, ears flicking. Mallowstripe wasn’t the only one acting strangely. Wolfstar, who usually held herself with elegance, looked…distracted. She sat with her mates instead of the leaders, barely speaking to anyone.
He could see Jaggedstar sneaking, unsubtle glances towards her, but she remained seated with her peers.
His mother and deputy, Snowspeckle, kept looking towards Shadowdive, whose usual silence had turned heavy, unreadable. And Lynxdawn—
Ripplepaw turned, searching for the medicine cat, but Otterpaw found her first. His brother was still and watchful, ears angled toward where she sat with the other clerics. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but Ripplepaw felt the shift in him like the crackle of distant thunder.
Something was wrong.
He signed to ask what was wrong, but Otterpaw didn’t answer.
The festival went on, but the air felt thicker. Ripplepaw tried to shake it off, to focus on the warmth of the sun on his fur and the dull laughter of other apprentices. But Otterpaw was tense beside him, and every time Ripplepaw let himself get distracted, some small detail would drag him back—, a pair of warriors exchanging wary glances, the way shadows stretched just a bit too long beneath the trees.
Night was approaching and the feast was brought forth. Sweet marinated meats and delightfully crunchy fried grasshoppers were served. The dessert was a thin, flax pancake soaked in honey, nuts, and dried flowers.
The sweet food was a good distraction, after the meal he and his brother began chasing fireflies that had appeared. A few other apprentices joined them, his friend finchpaw amongst them.
Then, as the gathering neared its end, Lynxdawn pulled Wolfstar, Snowspeckle, Shadowdive, and Mallowstripe aside. Ripplepaw watched as his clanmates slipped away from the clearing, their pelts brushing in hushed urgency. He strained his ears, but the festival’s noise swallowed what little of their voices he could hear. Otterpaw shifted beside him, tail twitching.
“They’re talking about the ritual,” Otterpaw murmured.
Ripplepaw swallowed. He didn’t know what he had expected from the invocation, only that it had been important. Sacred. But looking at his clanmates now, their hushed words and grim expressions, he wasn’t sure what had come of it.
The tension remained even as SaltClan gathered to leave. The festival’s joy still clung to the air, but for their clan, the weight of something unspoken settled over their pelts. Ripplepaw glanced back one last time at the clearing, the firelight flickering over unfamiliar faces.
Whatever had happened that night by the bonfire, whatever answer Lynxdawn had received—
Fathers Day demanded attention in this space Sunday, but that doesn’t mean I forgot all about the summer solstice.
How could I …? it came galloping in from the east at 4:24 a.m. with the rising sun hot on its heels - more effective than any alarm clock - kicking off the longest day of the year and the astronomical start of summer.
The nuts and bolts of it: The solstice happens because the Earth is tilted on its axis by about 23.5 degrees. On Sunday, the Northern Hemisphere was tilted closest to the sun.
Up here above the 45th Parallel, the daylight is copious, but we’re still wearing sweatshirts and firing up the wood stove at night.
