Getting back into the groove of all my stories after the chaos of everything in my life is starting to find a plateau, or at least a point where I truly have the energy to write again. As such, wanted to show what @direclan drew for the Clangen discord server’s Pride event! Since I don’t draw, they were willing to add my characters to the upcoming event!
Puddlewhisper sports the trans and aro flags while Pear has the bi flag and Ice is a straight ally.
congrats to ashblink for being the first fallenclan cat to have 3 scars, making him also the first to have "scarred" in his in-game allegiances description :D
With her mother dead, Quickpaw wishes to live with her lost littermates as a historian rather than a mediator. Boughfur promises to restart her training and help her catch up to everyone else.
[Image ID: Pearbranch and Icepaw, both with adult sprites, gather around an adult Quickpaw. Under her, it reads NEW(ISH) PLAYER: QUICKPAW, 12, FEMALE, AMBITIOUS, GOOD SWIMMER. Behind the siblings, Boughfur says, "Lettucestar might not like losing a Clanmate, but he values family. He wouldn't keep you from yours."]
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Boughfur chuckled as Icepaw and Pearbranch paced around the border. "Just be honest. How often did you see her?"
"Usually every new moon," Pearbranch said, absently clawing the side of a tree.
"Pearbranch!" Icepaw whined, hopping up from where he rested.
"She said she won't tell!" Pearbranch huffed.
"Not that it matters anymore," Boughfur purred. "You'll be able to spend your first proper Longest Night together. You won't have to worry about politics anymore."
It was hard to say it would be a "proper" Longest Night, Icepaw thought. The holiday was just a few days away, and despite winter chill claiming the land, there had been no snow. Rather than trotting through snow and ice, as Icepaw's earliest memories recalled, he slipped on frosty leaves long since crumbled under the weight of passing deer. Had it been so snowless and gray when Puddlewhisper found Icepaw and Pearbranch? And now, a year later, the lost daughter was rejoining her litter.
The sunrise illuminated the gaps of the trees, making it easy to see the approaching figure. Icepaw and Pearbranch both perked their ears and tightened their chests. Quickpaw's brown eyes looked orange in the winter dawn, gleaming with hope.
"Hi," Quickpaw laughed, voice cracking with a joyful cry.
Icepaw and Pearbranch surged past Boughfur before the older historian could say a word. Pearbranch wrapped her front paws around Quickpaw, purring deeply. Icepaw pressed his head into Quickpaw's cheek. Quickpaw pulled her brother and sister close, laughing through what few sobs escaped.
"Welcome to RippleClan, Quickpaw," Boughfur said, stirring Icepaw from his blinding joy. "The Clan is excited to greet you."
"I, uh," Quickpaw gulped, collecting her breath, "I hope it wasn't hard to get Lettucestar to let me go." Pearbranch groomed Quickpaw's neck, as though trying to clean off the stench of still water and mud.
"Lettucestar might not like losing a Clanmate," Boughfur explained, "but he values family. He wouldn't keep you from yours."
"You'll be a historian in no time!" Pearbranch declared. She hesitated, however, stepping back and adding, "If you still want to switch paths, I mean."
"I do," Quickpaw sighed with a dip of her head. "I like science more than diplomacy. I'll be happier as a historian."
"That's why Oilstar asked me to meet you," Boughfur chuckled, moving close. "We discussed who would be the best choice of mentor, and Oilstar thought I would do well."
"You're Boughfur, right?" Quickpaw said. "I've spent some time with your sisters."
"You'll be my first apprentice," Boughfur chirped, adjusting the dry flowers on her pelt. "I promise, I won't treat you like a kit. You're an adult, and I want to respect that, even if you have to restart your training. I want us to be partners more than mentor and apprentice."
"I like that," Quickpaw purred. She touched noses with her new mentor, shimmering with anticipation.
"Quickpaw, Quickpaw!" Icepaw cheered, laughing. When Quickpaw gave him an odd look, he huffed, "We weren't at your apprentice ceremony! Feels right to chant your name now."
"Quickpaw, Quickpaw!" Pearbranch chanted, kneading the limp leaves. Quickpaw laughed and waved her siblings back to her side.
"Quick, Sleek, and Silent," Quickpaw chuckled as Icepaw and Pearbranch pressed into her. "Back together again."
(Boughfur: 34, female, historian, righteous, great climber)
(Pearbranch: 12, female, historian, righteous, good hunter, good storyteller)
(Quickpaw: 12, female, historian apprentice, ambitious, good swimmer)
Speaking with Quickpaw about her grief for her mother helps Honeybuzz heal from Stormjump’s death.
[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Quickpaw sit in the medicine den together. Quickpaw says, "It's hard to grieve her when everyone here hates her." Under Honeybuzz, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]
---
Honeybuzz was not the right cat to introduce Longest Night to his sons. He wasn't in a particularly festive mood that year, and the kits didn't deserve to have such a great night ruined by grief and bitterness. There were plenty of clerics in RippleClan to conduct the night's religious rites. Honeybuzz could organize the medicine den. That was for the best.
While it was a snowless holiday, it was far from warm. Half the Clan stayed near the main bonfire, tucked under long pelts and in each other's embrace. Others fixed the torches along the edge of camp and muttered prayers to their respective Celestials. They traded gifts or gathered around Frostdancer, who expertly played the Gutpluck. Beekit, Morningkit, and Patchkit were with Yellowburst and Sandhollow, enjoying a wide collection of gifts from their aunt and various uncles.
Now it is important to mention that Honeybuzz was not neglected on that cold and bitter night. His gifts neatly lined his nest. His brothers each carved a leaf into a chunk of wood, a piece of art to always remind Honeybuzz that he was loved. Troutpool revealed a new mortar and pestle for the medicine den, and the other clerics each gave each other dyed mossballs. They certainly brightened the dim, empty medicine den, but the light merely swirled around Honeybuzz's heart. It had yet to penetrate.
"Hi, Honeybuzz." Honeybuzz had been cupping his cicada wing necklace in his paw, staring mindlessly at the half-preserved membrane, when Quickpaw's voice startled him back to reality. The newcomer had a new necklace around her neck, carrying two wooden charms; one a diamond, the other a foreign shape, like a small circle sitting on a larger one.
Honeybuzz must have been staring for longer than he intended, as Quickpaw glanced at her gift and said, "Oh, my siblings surprised me with this. The diamond is supposed to be a shard of ice, and this thing is shaped like a pear. They would have made something for me, but what shape represents quick? Heh."
"It's a good gift," Honeybuzz hummed. "So, what do you need?"
"I think all this socialization is giving me a headache," Quickpaw sighed, squeezing her eyes tight. "Icepaw said I could use his 'stash', whatever that means." Honeybuzz scoffed softly, flicking his ears toward the patient nests. He led Quickpaw further into the shadows.
A small jar sat inside one of the nests. While faded in the dark, Honeybuzz could see the diamond carved into the side of the terracotta. So that was the symbol's meaning…
"Icepaw spends quite a bit of time in here with his chronic headaches," Honeybuzz explained. "We decided that rather than prepare fresh medicine every time he needed it, we could give Icepaw a jar of herbs he could lick from when he came in. Gingerspring figured out what herbs best help your brother and keeps the jar stocked. Just take a tongue-ful." Honeybuzz carefully undid the leather lid, revealing a chunky powder of dandelion, feverfew, and valerian root. Quickpaw stuck her muzzle in, flinching as the pottery rubbed awkwardly against her whiskers. She licked up a dose of the medicine and pulled back, smacking her lips.
"You would think I'd be used to talking with everyone," Quickpaw sighed, glancing back toward the party. "I spent half my life training for it. This just feels different." Wait, was Quickpaw going to vent to Honeybuzz? This was far from the night where Honeybuzz could offer a kind ear.
"If you're overwhelmed," Honeybuzz sighed, sealing the jar, "I'm sure you can sleep early. You could join Puddlewhisper and your siblings. I overheard Icepaw brag about sleeping in the warrior's den tonight."
"I don't know if Puddlewhisper would really welcome me," Quickpaw groaned, taking a seat near Weevilsight's nest. And Honeybuzz only encouraged her, how wonderful. "She's been nothing but nice, but I'm not one of her kits. Nimblestep will always be my mom… but some cats might resent that."
Honeybuzz sighed. It seemed there was no hiding from the world that night. If Stormjump were around, she would have encouraged someone, anyone, to go see Honeybuzz, whether their tail was falling off or they had a cough. Could she have nudged Quickpaw Honeybuzz's way? He should help her, he was a father after all, these were the sort of things fathers should be able to work through. What if it were Patchkit asking those questions?
"I don't see how anyone could resent you for something you didn't do," Honeybuzz pointed out, taking a reluctant seat.
"I guess it's a SlugClan habit," Quickpaw sighed. "There's a belief over there that if someone avoids judgment, their children must answer in their stead. It restores power to StarClan, I think. Mom told me not to put my faith in that, but it does make me think. Should I be doing something to make up for what my mom did to RippleClan? Would I feel less guilty?" Quickpaw hid behind her whiskers as she added, "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's feelings for you."
"That all sounds like yet another tradition our founders wanted to leave behind," Honeybuzz huffed. "You are your own molly here, Quickpaw. You leave your own legacy."
"That's true," Quickpaw admitted with another glance outside. She took a big breath and said, "It's hard to grieve her when everyone here hates her."
"From Icepaw's stories," Honeybuzz sighed, "you're not one to back away from bullies." Honeybuzz rolled the orange-dyed moss-ball, made by Gingerspring, under his paw. "I'm sure if someone is selfish enough to yowl at you for grieving, you can show them who's in the wrong."
"Right once again," Quickpaw chuckled softly. "I guess that's cleric wisdom."
"Might just be Honeybuzz wisdom," Honeybuzz hummed. "Have you met Gingerspring?" Quickpaw snorted, nodding along to the harsh joke. Honeybuzz suddenly realized it was the first joke he had told since the Ocean's Assault.
"I think Icepaw's 'stash' is starting to help my headache," Quickpaw purred, stretching her flank high. "Thank you, Honeybuzz. I think I can face the crowd again. Are you going to stay in here all night?" Honeybuzz looked outside. Beekit, Morningkit, and Patchkit had left Yellowburst and Sandhollow behind in favor of trying out the large drum Rattlepelt saved from the flood. Patchkit beat awkwardly to the rhythm of Frostdancer's music.
"Perhaps I shouldn't," Honeybuzz hummed.
The light of the bonfire inched past the cold and warmed Honeybuzz's heart.
(Honeybuzz: 50, male, cleric, daring, sklled toolsmith, good teacher)
(Quickpaw: 12, female, historian apprentice, ambitious, good swimmer)
Waspdawn comes down with Vasco’s yellowcough, making the clerics, Wolfgaze, and Anchovystrike wonder if the Rat Leaders in the human settlement may grow to affect RippleClan more with their new arrivals.
[Image ID: The five clerics, Wolfgaze, and Anchovystrike gather together. Honeybuzz says, "We can’t predict what loners we’ll come across. Anchovystrike should examine all visitors for rat leaders." Waspdawn and Vasco stand in the back. Under Waspdawn, it says + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH.]
Pearpaw is honored for her role in the Ocean’s Assault, and gets her historian name early; Pearbranch.
[Image ID: Pearpaw is now Pearbranch! Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! PEARPAW → PEARBRANCH, MOSS-BALL HUNTER → GOOD HUNTER, LOVER OF STORIES → GOOD STORYTELLER.]
(Pearbranch: 10, female, historian, righteous, good hunter, good storyteller)
Honeybuzz fiercely grieves his mate. Mitespark has to stop him from attacking Yarrowclaw.
[Image ID: Honeybuzz tries to attack Yarrowclaw, but Mitespark stands between them. Honeybuzz yowls, "You should have saved them first!" Under him, it reads + CONDITION: GRIEVING.]
(Honeybuzz: 48, male, cleric, daring, sklled toolsmith, good teacher)
(Mitespark: 42, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)
(Yarrowclaw: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
As the Clan rebuilds, Oilstar decides to bless Yarrowclaw’s heroism by giving her an honor title; Floodsplash!
[Image ID: Oilstar and Tallowheart approach Yarrowclaw, now Floodsplash. Oilstar says, " You trusted StarClan's vision and saved your Clanmates. If that isn't worthy of an honor title, what is?" Under Floodsplash, it says LEVEL UP! YARROWCLAW → FLOODSPLASH.]
---
It took two days before the five Clans could converge on RippleClan's camp and clear out the last of the floodwaters. And yes, it was five Clans working on the camp, not one. Despite the conflicts of the past year, the other four leaders stood with Oilstar, sending their warriors to restore RippleClan's ruined medicine stores and broken dens. AshClan artisans helped RippleClan carve their first leader and deputy once more into fresh sculptures, with shiny and bright paint from LynxClan. RippleClan caretakers each led a team to clean out their assigned dens, moving broken planks and seaweed and scavenging the old leather floors.
Somehow the human long pelt in the elder's den survived the storm, clumped into a corner. It now laid in the heart of camp with a dozen cats resting on it, trying to find some sense of normalcy, their salt-crusted paws kneading into the sun-warmed material. Most of those cats were RippleClan. Their legs shook from the cleaning efforts. Their muscles burned. They couldn't help anymore, no matter how much they insisted they should. That was what Yarrowclaw kept telling herself as she laid with her belly up, staring at the cascading layers of clouds above.
Yarrowclaw wanted to sleep. She wanted to rest. She knew her mind and heart needed it, perhaps more than the majority of her Clanmates. But the liar in her head kept saying she didn't need rest. She felt fine. If she wasn't tired, she should help. She shouldn't let the other Clans do everything. She was the one who saved the day. Yarrowclaw groaned and flipped onto her stomach, throwing her paws over her head. Could her thoughts please be quiet?
Even those with able bodies could not work. Rattlepelt, Wildclaw, Shrewflame, Whiteflower, and Midnightpaw (once again wearing a tight, dry bandage) sat around Troutpool as the senior cleric softly explained that while Valleypaw's body may never be found, his spirit was sitting with them right now, and he would protect his brothers and mothers no matter where he was. Paleseed worked with a WheatClan mediator in front of the repaired nursery, coaxing Honeybuzz and Stormjump's sons back inside, promising the den couldn't hurt them. Honeybuzz was nowhere to be found. Spikecrash spoke softly with Venturedapple, sharing the horror of Stormjump's body floating in the nursery.
Yes, Stormjump. At least the Clan had her body for the vigil. Only StarClan knew where Valleypaw was washed to. Stormjump now rested beside Littlekit. Yet Yarrowclaw was the hero who saved her mate and escorted everyone out of the medicine. She helped save Stormjump's kits.
It was the best day of Yarrowclaw's life.
It was the worst day of Yarrowclaw's life.
Yarrowclaw stood, shuffling the human long pelt as she moved. Currentsmoke and Yellowburst stumbled up to the crowd of resting cats, relieved of duty for the moment. Yarrowclaw scuttled off the long pelt and gave the pair a place to fall. As the caretakers closed their eyes, Yarrowclaw remembered to breath. Maybe she could take up whatever task Currentsmoke and Yellowburst broke away from? Or she could help prepare a meal for all the hardworking cats who came to RippleClan's aid? The possibilites buzzed in Yarrowclaw's head.
"Yarrowclaw." Oilstar slipped out of the leader's den with Tallowheart at her side. Despite the storm making his ribs worse, the injured historian didn't seem in much pain. Yarrowclaw allowed herself to hold the sudden pride in her chest close. She made sure Oilstar did not lose her son. No matter the circumstances, Yarrowclaw could take pride in that… right?
"Anything you need from me, Oilstar?" Yarrowclaw asked, sitting at attention.
"I was talking with my son here," Oilstar purred, gently touching her nose to Tallowheart's cheek as she spoke, "and Tallowheart had an excellent idea. I thought I would get your opinion first before I called a Clan meeting, though." Yarrowclaw tilted her head. "It's your idea, Tallow. Go ahead."
"If you hadn't come to the medicine den," Tallowheart explained, dipping his head in humility, "the waves might have taken me. You saved my life, Midnightpaw's life, and probably all the clerics too."
"I was just following the vision Estherfern gave me," Yarrowclaw muttered. "If StarClan knew I wouldn't die, I had to keep others alive."
"It was incredible," Tallowheart purred. He flinched as his purr shifted his broken ribs, but he dug through the pain. "We're calling it the Ocean's Assault, and you're the hero of that story. Because of that, I suggested to my mom that she give you an honor title." What?
"What," Yarrowclaw said.
"I don't want to change your name if you don't want this," Oilstar added. "Still, I think you deserve it. You trusted StarClan's vision and saved your Clanmates. If that isn't worthy of an honor title, what is?"
"What would you call me?" Yarrowclaw said. Her words came before her thoughts.
"Floodsplash," Oilstar purred. Fire burned behind Yarrowclaw's eyes. It was a fire that torched her fur and melted her bones, yet she couldn't step out of it. She didn't have to think about it. She couldn't think about it. She couldn't imagine regret or caution, even though she knew, deep down, something screamed at her to just stay normal.
"I love it," Floodsplash said.
(Floodsplash: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Tallowheart: 36, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)
Floodsplash takes her brothers on patrol, hoping one of them would understand, only for them to start fighting.
[Image ID: Floodsplash listens as Anchovystrike, Currentsmoke, and Billowhaze argue, not paying attention to her. Speech bubbles with a mass of tangled swirls surround the trio of toms.]
Author's Note: this passage features discussion of mental illness and self-harm not typically seen in RippleClan's Promise. Reader's discretion is advised.
---
Sandhollow said it was good. Sandhollow said no matter how much Floodsplash's mind fluttered from maddening highs to strange, slugging lows, she could still deserve praise. She could still be honored as a hero and not fly away, never to land. After all, she did do something grand, she didn't imagine the vision, she was special on that grim day.
Floodsplash was a fly drowning in honey, its final moments consumed in unimaginable sweetness and bliss.
RippleClan had to harvest more of their herbs from the garden than the caretakers wanted if they hoped to restock the medicine den and prepare for winter. Floodsplash formed a patrol with her brothers, each burdened with large baskets, to harvest whatever they could. Brilliant red leaves fertilized the garden, hiding the medicine-rich roots and stems RippleClan needed. Paws crinkled and shoved the leaves aside in a soothing, quiet song. The littermates set their baskets at the garden's edge.
"Don't worry too much about seeds and replanting," Currentsmoke advised his littermates as they searched the garden rows for fully grown plants. "Me and the rest of the caretakers can get what we need out of what we harvest."
"We have fennel, burdock, chicory, mallow…" Floodsplash muttered, trotting from row to row. "We just use burdock roots, don't we? Let's leave the leaves, I know you said we don't need to worry about replanting, but why take what we don't need? Chicory, that's largely the roots too, right? We can probably do the same." Stars damn it, she was rambling again.
"Weevil taught me the best way to harvest the fennel," Anchovystrike chirped. "I'll handle that!" Anchovystrike ran a paw down a tall fennel stalk.
"Be careful of the year-old plants!" Currentsmoke warned as he dug at the burdock roots. Anchovystrike simply nodded and sliced his claw through the fronds and leaves. Billowhaze cupped his paw under a mallow flower, peering into the soft petals.
The littermates worked in silence, save for Floodsplash's gentle muttering. She couldn't stop the onslaught of words that tumbled out as she danced through the garden. The more she spoke, even at a whisper, the more her thoughts grew fuzzy.
She shouldn't have been working.
"Valleypaw was so excited to work in the garden," Billowhaze muttered, snapping Floodsplash back to reality before she dug through a chicory root. Currentsmoke and Anchovystrike paused in their work.
Valleypaw. Maybe it wasn't too late. Floodsplash would survive the flood, she would survive anything involving the flood, right? That's how the vision worked. There could be a ritual. If she found Valleypaw's body, maybe she could put his soul back. Wasn't that possible? She would swim out to sea and drag it back. She would—Floodsplash's heart spasmed. No. No no no no no. Not again. That wasn't true, that wouldn't work. But with StarClan—NO! Floodsplash's claws pierced the chicory root.
"Asterblaze should never have sent him out of camp," Anchovystrike sighed. He placed a pawful of fennel into the basket sitting next to him.brought a mouthful of fennel to his basket near Currentsmoke.
"None of us knew that wave was coming, Anchovystrike," Currentsmoke whined softly, pushing aside a burdock root. "It would have been Asterblaze if it hadn't been Valleypaw."
"He was Valleypaw's mentor," Anchovystrike snapped. He spat out a clingy frond of fennel. "He had a responsibility to keep him safe. He's barely mourned him!"
"That's not fair," Currentsmoke huffed, facing his brother. "Asterblaze has been wearing himself down to rebuild the camp. Of course he's mourning Valleypaw."
"Since when have you been so against Asterblaze?" Billowhaze added, stepping away from his work.
"I'm just saying, he should have taken the more dangerous job," Anchovystrike grumbled with a thrash of his tail. "It's… we don't even have his body to mourn! Can you imagine how Midnightpaw feels right now? All I did was make a comment and suddenly everyone feels the need to defend Asterblaze. Let's go back to work." No, let's not. Floodsplash needed to stop. The crumbled remains of the chicory root rested in front of her.
"Anchovystrike…" Currentsmoke groaned, whiskers twitching awkwardly. "Are you sure you're talking about Asterblaze here? Maybe you're…. talking about yourself, too?" Anchovystrike's tail fluffed up, high and shivering.
"Yes, and I don't even know why we're arguing about this," Anchovystrike groaned. "It's all so dumb! I just made a stupid comment, and now you're saying that taking my apprentice hunting is as bad as sending him out in a flood!"
"It was an accident!" Billowhaze and Currentsmoke yowled at once.
"I need help," Floodsplash said. Her mouth was dry. Maybe she could stop their arguing by climbing up a tree and jumping into them, that would shut them up. How selfish were they? Was Floodsplash the only one still doing her work? For StarClan's sake, could one of them listen to her?
"Everything's an accident, everything's on purpose," Anchovystrike hissed, bobbing side to side with emphasis. "I've been fixing the dens non-stop since we got back into camp, maybe I, I want someone to blame! Who else am I going to blame, Yar—I mean Floodsplash? She actually saved lives, Aster—"
"I'm going to kill myself!" Floodsplash shrieked. There. That got her brothers' attention. Their eyes snapped on her like hunters upon a foaming rabbit. Floodsplash panted like she ran across all five Clans. He skin burned and the buzzing in her head clawed at her good eye. She let her mouth go. "I don't trust myself, and I don't want to do anything to myself, so I need you to shut up and help me get home."
Floodsplash sat. Or perhaps she fell. She couldn't tell.
"Alright," Billowhaze choked out, voice as dry as Floodsplash's mouth. "Alright, we… we have plans for this." He glanced at Anchovystrike and Currentsmoke. All three toms had deep shadows over their faces. "Uh… do you…"
"I don't know what's true right now," Floodsplash warned. She sank slowly. A familiar feral panic gripped her chest. "I need to use my powers and help the Clan. I don't have powers, I can't have powers, I can't be special. I'm going to get myself killed. Why did Estherfern tell me about that star-damned vision?" Currentsmoke nuzzled Floodsplash, whimpering deeply.
"I don't know what to tell you," Anchovystrike muttered. Billowhaze gently nudged Floodsplash back to her paws. Her feet burned.
"I know your mind takes things too far," Currentsmoke whined, "but you can still be important."
"I don't want to die," Floodsplash cried. She should have died in the flood. It didn't make sense that she didn't. Why did it have to be her?
But Floodsplash wasn't going to die. For once, that wasn't mania whispering tempting tales of invulnerability. Billowhaze and Currentsmoke pressed against either side of her, baskets abandoned. Anchovystrike led them back toward camp. Floodsplash let herself stumble into her brothers.
It was tempting to call her own mind a battlefield, her condition a war. It certainly felt as deadly at times. Yet her brothers were not warriors at her side, and, as Sandhollow would soon tell Floodsplash while setting up a nest in the medicine den, she couldn't fight herself.
With her brothers' aid, all Floodsplash had to do was weather the floodwaters.
(Floodsplash: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Currentsmoke: 35, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, inventor and innovator)
