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[First]
Drew some silly little guys from the clangen tag that I liked for New Years!
Characters + their blogs under read more:
Honeystar - @songclangen
Leafstar - @smoke-clan
Rattlepaw - @whispering-clan
Dandelion - @rise-of-thornclan
Nettleiris - @moons-of-dewclan
My half of an art trade with @kindlecorn ! Sorry, still learning to draw cats, but I drew Rattlepaw :D I’ll likely redraw this in the future when I’m a little more experienced with cats.
Hope you like it!!
RippleClan: Moon 28
Downstar calls a Clan meeting to honor Parsley for her service and guide her to the elder’s den.
[Image ID: Parsley, now laying down in an elder’s sprite, says to Puddlespeckle, “It looks like you aren’t alone anymore, Mr. Puddlespeckle.” Puddlespeckle says, “How wonderful…”]
(Parsley: 122, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)
(Puddlespeckle: 154, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)
Clammask, Shadowdrop, and Rustshade find another abandoned kit near the gardens.
[Image ID: Clammask, Shadowdrop, and Rustshade face a white kit with gray stripes and sage green eyes. Under the kit, it reads NEW PLAYER: MOUSEKIT, 5, FEMALE, KNOW-IT-ALL, ODDLY OBSERVANT.]
---
Rattlepaw was not a stalker. She had a perfectly normal interest in Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe. Why shouldn’t she want her mother to find someone that made her giddy? Oilstripe was the perfect choice! How else could Rattlepaw and Carnationspeckle grow their little family? They deserved more than just one another. They deserved a bigger family. As such, while Rattlepaw practiced a song with Rabbitjoy, she had one ear cocked toward Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe, who were happily sharing tongues before their sunset patrol. Recruiting them to practice dancing for the Harvest Moon had been the perfect plan!
“Mom?” Shadowdrop marched into the camp, scanning for Downstar. The sand caught on his muddy paws, making it look like he had white mittens. “Mom?”
“Fennelspot took Downstar out to exercise,” Rabbitjoy explained, looking over her shoulder at the black tom.
“Well then is Weedfoot around?” Shadowdrop sighed.
“I heard my name!” Weedfoot jogged out from the dirt place. “I’m here, I’m here. Hi, Shadowdrop. Was there an issue with your hunt?”
“You could say that,” Shadowdrop admitted. “We were hunting by the gardens and you’ll never guess what we found.”
“What, a kit?” Oilstripe scoffed. Shadowdrop went eerily quiet. Oilstripe’s eyes exploded. “Wait, am I right?” Rattlepaw’s leather pelt slipped off her back as she scurried up to Shadowdrop. Carnationspeckle stood beside her, her tail brushing against her side.
“That’s where you found me,” Rattlepaw gulped, catching Carnationspeckle’s eye.
“Tell us about the kit,” Weedfoot said. “I assume it isn’t a Clan kit from the way you’re acting.”
“We think so,” Shadowdrop admitted.
“You think so?” Carnationspeckle repeated with a tilt to her head. “Does the kit have a Clan name?”
“Yes, but when we spoke to her, she said she didn’t come from a Clan,” Shadowdrop explained. “I don’t remember anyone in the last few Gatherings mention a Mousekit, unless she’s lying about the name.”
“No one outside the Clans would name their daughter Mousekit,” Rabbitjoy pointed out.
“Rustshade is checking the borders in case the kit’s description matches a kit from another Clan,” Shadowdrop said. “Clammask is bringing the kit along.”
“Carnationspeckle, wake up James and make sure the nursery is ready for a guest,” Weedfoot sighed with a soft flick of her tail.
“We won’t be long,” Carnationspeckle chirped, bouncing where she stood. She seemed more like a kit than a grown molly as she hurried to the warrior’s den.
“She might be cold…” Weedfoot muttered, glancing at the windy sky. “Rabbitjoy, can you start a small fire? Oilstripe, I want you to fetch Fennelspot. A lone kit like this will likely need a check-up.”
“Downstar might get mad at me if I interrupt her exercise,” Oilstripe gulped, avoiding eye contact.
“I saw them not long ago, I’ll get Fennelspot,” Shadowdrop grumbled. Just as he turned around, however, a wirey white molly strolled past him, flicking her tail while Clammask followed behind. The kit had the faintest of stripes and fur paler than Rattlepaw’s ashy skin. She couldn’t have been much younger than half a year.
“This is RippleClan?” the kit scoffed. “You live in a big boat? How has it not fallen over?”
“You must be Mousekit,” Weedfoot purred, stepping in front of the newcomer. “Welcome. Hopefully we can get you home soon. What Clan are you from?”
“I already said I’m not from a Clan,” Mousekit huffed, sneering.
“You have to be with a name like Mousekit,” Clammask sighed. “If you ran away because you were being hurt, you can tell us. We won’t drag you back.”
“I’m called Mousekit because my furless, spineless, coward of a mother spent my whole life telling me everything she knew about the Clans,” Mousekit snapped, turning on Clammask. “She’s the one who brought me out here. About time, too. I was sick of catching mice for humans.” Rattlepaw’s stomach twisted as she held her breath. No wonder Mousekit didn’t react to her.
“Your mother was furless too?” Rattlepaw gulped. She slowly approached Mousekit, who studied her with a cold glimmer in her green eyes. “Was her name… Rebecca?”
“How do you know that?” Mousekit said as the fur on her neck bristled. Rattlepaw couldn’t stop herself. She squealed and dove at Mousekit. She shoved her face into her shockingly soft fur.
“She was my mother too!” Rattlepaw cheered. “You’re my sister!”
“Get off of me!” Mousekit snapped. She shoved Rattlepaw away. Rattlepaw tumbled onto her back. The sand scratched her fragile skin.
“Rattlepaw!” Carnationspeckle hurried out of the nursery. She and Oilstripe helped Rattlepaw back to her feet. Oilstripe brushed sand off Rattlepaw’s skin while Carnationspeckle licked her white ear.
“That was a hard tumble,” Oilstripe huffed. “Are you alright?”
“A little sore, but I’m alright,” Rattlepaw said.
“So you’re Rattlesnake,” Mousekit said, whiskers twitching with a strange contempt. “Our mother talked often about how she had to ‘save you’ from a breeding life.”
“How is she?” Rattlepaw asked. She braced herself for a venomous response as Mousekit’s tail flicked about.
“Why should I care?” Mousekit snapped. “She didn’t care about me. All she talked about were her plans to take me away as soon as she got the chance. I guess she took it.”
“If you like to hunt, you’ll like this place,” Carnationspeckle purred. “I took in your sister when she arrived here. If you wanted to, we could get to know each other more.” Carnationspeckle rested her tail over Rattlepaw. Rattlepaw pressed into Carnationspeckle with a soft purr.
[Image ID: Mousekit stares down Carnationspeckle and Rattlepaw. She yowls, “I had a mom, and she was awful. You aren’t my mom, and you aren’t my sister!”]
“You want to treat me like your kit?” Mousekit scoffed. “I had a mom, and she was awful. You aren’t my mom, and you aren’t my sister!” Rattlepaw pressed harder into Carnationspeckle. Her big copper eyes poured unspoken needs over Mousekit, but the pale molly turned away and back to Weedfoot. “So where can I stay?” It took Weedfoot a moment to collect her words; the small crowd looked between Mousekit and Rattlepaw, unsure whether they should have said something or not.
“Come this way,” Weedfoot said softly. She guided Mousekit across camp to the nursery. Mousekit walked with her tail high, leaving Rattlepaw and Carnationspeckle in her dust. While Carnationspeckle continued grooming Rattlepaw, something hardened in Rattlepaw’s chest.
She was already trying to find her mother a mate, and she’d just been given a sister. If she could push Carnationspeckle to fall in love with Oilstripe, she could convince her own flesh and blood to love her back.
(Rattlepaw: 11, female, artisan apprentice, insecure, plays with prey)
(Shadowdrop: 20, male, codekeeper, sneaky, eloquent speaker, good teacher)
(Rabbitjoy: 65, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver)
(Weedfoot: 77, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)
(Oilstripe: 32, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)
(Carnationspeckle: 30, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)
(Mousekit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, oddly observant)
(Clammask: 22, female, caretaker, righteous, lore keeper, good teacher)
RippleClan: Moon 27
Graythroat returns to camp with a bleeding tail and stories of a dead fox.
[Image ID: Graythroat stands proud while the text under her reads + CONDITION: BITE WOUND. Fennelspot and Downstar sit together in the upper corner.]
Downstar was not supposed to be so cooperative.
Fennelspot was only a couple moons younger than Downstar, so he vividly remembered how she plagued his apprenticeship; spunky and wild Downpaw would limp into the medicine den with scraps and bruises from her latest misadventure, with Shadowsun sighing behind her. At first, Fennelspot’s mentor Yellowflower gladly treated her, but she was in the medicine den so much, she finally said that young Fennelpaw would treat Downpaw for whatever injury or illness she brought in. It prepared Fennelspot well for being Downstar’s first cleric and for caring for her equally troublesome children.
Fennelspot remembered when Downstar broke a rib not long before he got his full name. No matter how much he insisted she had to rest, she wouldn’t stay in her nest, insisting she could watch over the nursery or guard camp or do whatever it was she thought interesting at the time. That was just her way. Now, though…
Downstar spent most of her time in her den, resting. When Fennelspot entered to check her leg or help her exercise, Downstar listened without fuss. She groomed her leg, kept it still, and took whatever advice Fennelspot gave her without question.
Something was deeply wrong with Downstar.
Fennelspot was deep in his worries as he placed a new splint on Downstar’s leg when suddenly, a manic laugh broke through camp. Both Fennelspot and Downstar’s heads snapped up as the strange laugh drew closer. Fennelspot left Downstar’s den just as others in the camp, in the midst of naps or sharing tongues, looked out of their dens to find the source of the odd sound.
“Hali!” the source of the laugh yowled. “Shadow! You won’t believe it!” Graythroat marched into camp with wild eyes and a tall tail. Foreign blood smeared her muzzle while her own dribbled down her legs from a huge wound on her tail.
“Graythroat, what did you do?” Fennelspot gasped. He ran at Graythroat and forced her to a stop. RippleClan gathered behind him, staring at Graythroat’s bloody face. Halibutdusk and Shadowdrop pushed through the crowd, standing on either side of their sister.
“What did I do?” Graythroat laughed, flicking her tail as though it wasn’t bleeding profusely. “What did I do? Let me tell you, I killed a fox!” She cackled once more, giving Fennelspot just enough time to shove her flank down and pin her tail for a better look at the wound.
“You killed a fox?” Rattlepaw gasped, peeking out from behind Rabbitjoy and Carnationspeckle.
“Gray…” Halibutdusk gulped. The young warrior studied Fennelspot as he groomed the blood around Graythroat’s wound. It was no doubt a fox bite; Fennelspot didn’t know another creature with such a long mouth and sharp punctures. Still, Graythroat must have thrashed her tail hard in the fox’s grasp. There were multiple smaller bites that tore across the skin.
“There I was,” Graythroat said, ducking slightly as though stalking through the forest, “enjoying some time alone, when I see the biggest, fattest, reddest fox I have ever seen in my life, just mouse-lengths from the border!”
“Graythroat, you’ve only ever seen one fox,” Halibutdusk sighed.
“It was outside our territory?” Shadowdrop asked.
“I wasn’t going to let it come in,” Graythroat scoffed. “It was the greatest fight of our generation. Our fangs dug into each other, we tumbled to and through—”
“And you can keep telling the story once I treat your wound!” Fennelspot snapped. “StarClan knows what diseases a fox could have. Medicine den, now.” Graythroat groaned, tilting her head back as far as it could go. Still, she obeyed (with a nudge from Halibutdusk).
As Fennelspot led Graythroat (and most of the Clan) to the medicine den, he caught Downstar’s eyes shining from her den. Fennelspot should have been snapping at her to rest her leg as she made sure Graythroat was okay, or at least question her as to why she would attack a fox who had done nothing wrong. But Downstar was still. She just watched Graythroat bleed. Fennelspot had been aware of Graythroat’s issues for a while, but Downstar…
She scared him.
(Fennelspot: 84, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)
(Downstar: 86, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Graythroat: 19, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)
(Rattlepaw: 10, female, artisan apprentice, insecure, plays with prey)
(Halibutdusk: 19, male, warrior, gloomy, great storyteller, clever)
(Shadowdrop: 19, male, codekeeper, sneaky, eloquent speaker, good teacher)
Rattlepaw teaches Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe a special dance in the water.
[Image ID: Rattlepaw waits for Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe as Carnationspeckle says “I’ll dance if she will!” Under Carnationspeckle, it says LEVEL UP! TALENTED SWIMMER -> FISH-LIKE SWIMMER. Under Oilstripe, it says LEVEL UP! GHOST SIGHT -> GHOST SPEAKER.]
(Rattlepaw: 10, female, artisan apprentice, insecure, plays with prey)
(Carnationspeckle: 29, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)
(Oilstripe: 31, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)
RippleClan: Moon 29
Burdockcreek falls for a prank and gets a thorn stuck in his paw.
[Image ID: Burdockcreek yowls “Graythroat! Stop putting thorns in my nest!” Offscreen, Graythroat calls, “I didn’t do anything to you!” Unbeknownst to Burdockcreek, Rabbitjoy is chuckling in the background.]
(Burdockcreek: 23, male, historian, competitive, lore keeper)
(Graythroat: 21, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)
(Rabbitjoy: 65, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver)
Rattlepelt becomes a fully trained artisan of RippleClan.
[Image ID: Rattlepaw, now Rattlepelt, stands in an adult sprite. Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! RATTLEPAW -> RATTLEPELT, INSECURE -> FIERCE, PLAYS WITH PREY -> PREY CLEANER.]
(Rattlepelt: 12, female, artisan, fierce, prey cleaner)
Mousepaw becomes an apprentice, with Shadowdrop as her mentor.
[Image ID: Mousepaw stands as an apprentice. Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! MOUSEKIT -> MOUSEPAW, KNOW-IT-ALL -> LOYAL.]
(Mouseaw: 6, female, codekeeper apprentice, loyal, oddly observant)
Downstar struggles to connect with her Clan.
[Image ID: Downstar watches Oilstripe, Puddlespeckle, James, and Weedfoot talk from some ways away. Under Downstar, it says + PERMANENT CONDITION: DEPRESSION.]
(Downstar: 88, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Oilstripe: 33, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)
(Puddlespeckle: 155, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)
(James: 105, male, caretaker, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)
(Weedfoot: 78, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)
RippleClan: Moon 24
Downstar fights a big dog and loses a life.
[Image ID: Downstar faces Duskkit, who says, “It’s okay for things to be okay.” Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 7.]
Downstar barely remembered what happened when she woke up on that eerily familiar beach. It all happened so fast. She’d been out with Rabbitjoy and Rattlepaw. All she remembered was a yowl to run and a set of vicious teeth. What attacked her? A dog? A darkhound, a Spirit of Shadow risen from the depths of the Dark Forest?
She stumbled up, groggy and blinded by the shine of the sun on the ethereal sea before her. She was alone on that strange beach. Wasn’t someone supposed to greet her when she arrived? The saltwater splashed on her paws, but she found no joy in it that day. Downstar stepped away from the water. That dog, that thing, it could still be chasing Rattlepaw and Rabbitjoy. Downstar told them to climb a tree, did they listen? StarClan, what a way to celebrate RippleClan’s anniversary.
“Sorry!” an achingly young voice called. “Sorry, Mom! I swear I wasn’t trying to be late!” Downstar couldn’t breathe as Duskkit launched through the trees behind her. Downstar wanted to wail when she saw the plump juniper berries tucked into Duskkit’s fur.
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” Downstar gasped as Duskkit launched off the grass and into her mother’s embrace. Her pelt glimmered and cast a purplish light over Downstar’s pale ginger patches. She was so warm. Downstar groomed Duskkit’s head and memorized every detail of her dark little face.
“Don’t be,” Duskkit insisted.
“How long can I stay here?” Downstar whispered, pulling her tail around her lost child.
“Rabbitjoy and Rattlepaw need to know you’re okay,” Duskkit sighed, her shiny eyes locking onto her mother’s gaze. “There’s something really important I need to tell you before you wake up, though.”
“What is it, kitten?” Downstar gulped. She tried to keep her voice steady as her heart pounded.
“It’s okay for things to be okay,” Duskkit said.
“Well of course it is,” Downstar said, nuzzling her daughter. “That’s all I want.”
“I mean it, though,” Duskkit whined. She pulled away, taking a part of Downstar’s soul with her. “Life is allowed to be good. Please remember that.”
“Duskkit…” Downstar sighed. She reached for her sparkling daughter, but the shores of StarClan vanished around her in an instant.
(Downstar: 82, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Duskkit: 4, female, kit, troublesome, quick witted)
Rattlepaw gives some advice to Carnationspeckle.
[Image ID: Rattlepaw faces Carnationspeckle, saying, “You might be good together.”]
---
If Rattlepaw was honest, she was quite rattled by the dog attack. She just wanted to swim in the Great Northern River while everyone else celebrated at the beach. She hadn’t even seen the dog before Downstar yowled at her and Rabbitjoy to climb the nearest tree. She didn’t want Downstar to die for her. She was sure she would always remember the way the giant hound grabbed Downstar’s scruff and shook her until she went limp. The only way Rabbitjoy could get her to leave the tree was when Downstar miraculously got up and Carnationspeckle coaxed her down.
Now, a few days later, Rattlepaw hadn’t left camp much. There was a lot for a young artisan to do in camp, she told herself, and she had a lot to learn. While she learned some stories and songs from Rabbitjoy, she spent most of her time working with leather. If she had to wear leather pelts over her back to protect her skin, she might as well know how Rabbitjoy made them. The more she got to toy with the tanning rack and Rabbitjoy’s twine, the more intrigued she got. It was a good distraction from… what had happened.
Rabbitjoy’s latest lesson involved cleaning prey of its meat before Rattlepaw could start tanning the pelt. Rattlepaw was hard at work with the sun streaking through the western trees when Oilstripe, Weedfoot, and Burdockcreek entered camp, laughing.
“Imagine them getting to camp, just—” Oilstripe laughed. She bulged her eyes and waddled forward, throwing Weedfoot and Burdockcreek into more hysterics.
“Hi, Oilstripe,” Rattlepaw called as she dumped the guts of a mouse into a pot for future meals. “You’ve been gone all day. What took you so long?”
“Well—” Oilstripe began, but she lost herself to laughter once more, keeling over. “Weedy, Weedy you tell her, I can’t—” Oilstripe wheezed dramatically and rolled onto her back, laughing.
“Oh, I don’t know if Rattlepaw will find it as funny as we do,” Weedfoot giggled. Carnationspeckle and James were strengthening the gaps between the rocks, making sure no snakes or dangerous creatures could slip inside, when the trio returned. They both stopped what they were doing and walked over.
“Share it anyway,” Carnationspecke chirped.
“Okay okay okay,” Oilstripe gasped, sucking in a huge breath. “We went to that meeting of historians at the Leader’s Stone, the one we talked about at the last Gathering. LynxClan is doing some interesting things with bees, their caretakers and historians are working together to encourage bees to build hives where they want so they can harvest more honey and wax. Mistlestar sent Dandeliondapple and Raggedstep, these two historians, out to study bees and— ha! They, they made them so mad! They dove into this pool on their territory and, and they tried waiting for the bees to leave, but, but they just stayed! They were hovering over the water, just waiting for them!” Oilstripe collapsed back into laughter.
“When they got back to camp, they were both swollen with stings,” Burdockcreek laughed. “These two keep bringing it up and going mad all over again.”
“It’s funny!” Weedfoot laughed as Oilstripe kicked her legs and coughed on her laughter. James and Rattlepaw both stared at the historians like they sprouted gills. Suddenly, to Rattlepaw’s surprise, Carnationspeckle giggled. She drew her paw over her muzzle, trying to hide her humor.
“Alright, that is a little funny,” she admitted.
“Right?” Oilstripe laughed, beaming as she rolled back to her paws. “It was a great meeting. We learned so much!”
“Let’s debrief Downstar before we share anymore stories,” Weedfoot chuckled, nudging Oilstripe. Oilstripe finally controlled her giggles. She waved goodbye to Carnationspeckle as she, Weedfoot, and Burdockcreek made their way to Downstar’s den.
“What a strange sense of humor,” James hummed, shaking his head. He returned to his den building, but Carnationspeckle lingered.
“You might be good together,” Rattlepaw found herself saying before she could stop herself.
“What do you mean?” Carnationspeckle asked, turning to Rattlepaw and cocking her head. No no no, this is not the conversation Rattlepaw wanted to have!
“It was just a random thought,” Rattlepaw laughed awkwardly, “but, you know, you and Oilstripe go well together. You, uh… you get each other.”
“We grew up together,” Carnationspeckle reminded her. “We were the first kits in the Clan. We have a special bond. We’re great together.” Oh thank StarClan she didn’t realize what she meant. “Let me know when you’re all done cleaning that prey, and I can help prepare the meat. Our historians must be hungry.”
Carnationspeckle touched noses with Rattlepaw and rejoined James. However, as Rattlepaw stared at her half-finished work, a thought came to her mind. Carnationspeckle had done so much for her. She cared for her so deeply, had Rattlepaw arrived to RippleClan at a younger age, she would have thought her to be her birth mother. She helped her be brave, even when she felt as small as a clam. She deserved something in return.
Rattlepaw was going to find her mother a mate.
(Rattlepaw: 7, female, artisan apprentice, insecure, plays with prey)
(Oilstripe: 28, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)
(Weedfoot: 73, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)
(Carnationspeckle: 26, female, caretaker, compassionate, talented swimmer)
(James: 100, male, caretaker, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)
(Burdockcreek: 18, male, historian, competitive, learner of lore)
RippleClan: Moon 23
Rattlepaw touches noses with Rabbitjoy, wondering if being an artisan is the right path for her.
[Image ID: Rattlepaw faces Rabbitjoy, who says, “You’ll be great, Rattlepaw.” Under Rattlepaw, it says LEVEL UP! RATTLEKIT -> RATTLEPAW.]
There was a lot Rattlekit didn’t want to get wrong. She didn’t want to make Carnationspeckle mad (because what if all the selfless reasons Parsley suggested weren’t true and her mom didn’t want her for something she did). She didn’t want to scare visitors to the camp when they saw her (because for some reason she couldn’t understand, not having fur seemed like a tragedy to others). She didn’t want to look dumb in front of the cats who took the time to talk to her, like Graythroat and Fennelspot and James (because she heard Downstar and Weedfoot question if she was too fragile to fight and if she couldn’t use her claws her mind had to be sharp).
Most of all, she really wanted to choose the right path at her apprentice ceremony, because what if she got half-way through her training and found she hated everything RippleClan asked of her?
“You can change your path at any point,” Carnationspeckle promised her as her soft tail dusted sand off Rattlekit’s skin. “I heard Puddlespeckle was about to graduate as a caretaker when he decided to be a warrior instead. He turned out fine.” But he had fur. He had no expectations that he couldn’t do anything he wanted. Rattlekit ducked her head as Carnationspeckle finished grooming her.
No one had told Rattlekit she couldn’t train to fight. In fact, Rabbitjoy and Scrubmask had each told her not to let her odd appearance stop her from doing something she enjoyed. But how was she supposed to believe that when Oilstripe and Burdockcreek had no stories of a furless cat in the Clans? How was she to know that enemy claws wouldn’t slice through her with more ease, or that the summer sun wouldn’t cook her brain? How could she know anything?
“I promise, Rattlekit,” Carnationspeckle cooed, tucking her tail under Rattlekit’s chin, “you’ll be alright. I’m with you, every step of the way.”
“All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather below the Shiprock for a Clan meeting!” Downstar’s voice rang into the nursery. Rattlekit held her breath. Her paw slipped into the dawn light, but Carnationspeckle’s tail tapped her flank.
“Before we join the Clan,” she said softly, “I have something to ask of you.” Before, Carnationspeckle had to crouch a bit to meet Rattlekit’s eyes, but now Rattlekit was the same height as her short adopted mother and could easily stare into her currently nervous eyes. “I know I wasn’t here for the first half of your kithood, but when it comes to the second… did I make it happy?”
“Of course,” Rattlekit said. It wasn’t even a question in her mind, but from the way Carnationspeckle’s whole body fluttered at the quick response, she knew there was more behind the question than she could see.
“Alright, let’s go,” Carnationspeckle purred, pressing her nose against Rattlekit’s chin. She walked alongside Rattlekit, protecting her from the expectant stares of RippleClan. She led Rattlekit to the front of the crowd and, with one last lick to Rattlekit’s head, she stepped back.
“It’s always a good day in RippleClan when a kit reaches the age of six moons,” Downstar purred. “I’ll admit, we had to guess your age somewhat, Rattlekit, so we could be a day or two off. I think StarClan will forgive us, however. Rattlekit, have you decided where your paws are taking you?” Rattlekit lost her voice for a moment. She coughed and shivered as a dozen eyes traced her spine.
“An artisan,” Rattlekit croaked. “I want to be an artisan.” She could have sworn Carnationspeckle told Downstar that earlier. Maybe they wanted her to say it aloud? Were they worried the Clan would think it was forced upon her if Downstar spoke up?
Downstar nodded and said, “Rattlekit, you’ve reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. From this day on, until you receive your caretaker name, you will be known as Rattlepaw. Being as we only have the one artisan…” Rabbitjoy stepped up before Downstar finished speaking. “Rabbitjoy, may your courage and strength infect Rattlepaw with all she needs to be a great artisan.” Rabbitjoy touched Rattlepaw’s nose with the sort of excitement that was more expected of an apprentice. Rattlepaw tried to breathe as she returned the gesture. RippleClan cheered her new name, but she couldn’t hear it over the sound of her own heart.
“You’ll be great, Rattlepaw,” Rabbitjoy promised. Rattlepaw nodded softly.
She really hoped that was true.
(Rattlepaw: 6, female, artisan apprentice, insecure, plays with prey)
(Carnationspeckle: 25, female, caretaker, compassionate, talented swimmer)
(Downstar: 82, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Rabbitjoy: 60, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver)
Halibutdusk is glad to have a brother like Shadowdrop. While on patrol, they run into an odd kittypet.
[Image ID: Halibutdusk and Shadowdrop stand to the side. A long furred, black sokoke tabby tom with blue eyes sits in the corner. Under him, it reads NEW PLAYER: FROGGY, 92, MALE, REBELLIOUS, MAINTAINS THE TERRITORY, GREAT SPEAKER.]
---
“I was so close to getting on the horse’s back,” Shadowdrop insisted as he and Halibutdusk walked through the territory in the cozy glow of afternoon in the depths of spring. “Those creatures spook so easily.”
“Why would you want to?” Halibutdusk laughed, shaking his head.
“It would be fun!” Shadowdrop said. “You say that like you wouldn’t have joined me.”
“When we were apprentices, maybe,” Halibutdusk admitted.
“One of these days, I’ll convince you to join Graythroat and I on an adventure again,” Shadowdrop sighed, looping to the other side of Halibutdusk.
“I’ll be happy if you stay alive,” Halibutdusk scoffed. He intended the line to be more serious than it sounded, as he sneezed right at the end and earned an eye-roll from his brother. Shadowdrop jogged ahead as Halibutdusk rubbed his nose. As his nose cleared, he caught an odd scent on the wind. Halibutdusk looked left just in time to see a black tabby pelt move through the thick spring growth.
“Duskkit?” he gasped despite himself.
“Huh?” the cat in the shadows muttered. Deep blue eyes met Halibutdusk’s. Shadowdrop hurried to his brother’s side as a long-furred tom stepped into view.
“Who are you?” Shadowdrop asked, ears pinned.
“Don’t mind me,” the stranger chuckled. “I’m not staying long. Just needed to clear my head for a minute.”
“Clear your…” Halibutdusk muttered. “Do you know where you are?”
“The forest,” the tom said casually.
“That’s not what I meant,” Halibutdusk groaned with a thrash of his tail. “This is Clan land. We don’t allow outsiders free reign on our territory.”
“Now I’m just here with my humans,” the stranger sighed, flicking his tail behind him. “They like to set up camp around here and kill deer. The female stays at camp all day and likes to bring me with for company. Only so long I can watch her play with string, though. A tom needs to wander, as I’m sure you know.”
“You can’t wander here,” Shadowdrop sighed. “You could scare off prey we need to feed our Clan.”
“I’ll leave,” the tom laughed, “but I’ll just come back again. It’s an endless cycle. I won’t be hunting, so you might as well just relax and spare a moment. You can call me Froggy. What can I call you?” Froggy sat and groomed his paw.
“I’m Shadowdrop,” Shadowdrop explained, “and this is my brother Halibutdusk.”
“Huh,” Froggy hummed. “I heard of a Halibutkit once.”
“I used to go by that name when I was young,” Halibutdusk muttered. He inched closer to the odd kittypet. “Where did you hear that name?”
“Oh, ages ago,” Froggy scoffed. “My humans were all busy preparing a deer carcass so I stepped out for a while. I found a small black kit caught in a bush of all things! I helped her out and calmed her down. We talked for a little bit until she remembered the way home.”
“That was my sister…” Halibutdusk muttered. The small, lively kit that still lived inside him ached as he thought of Duskkit and all she could have done. As the moons went on, Halibutdusk was more and more certain that she had been the best of them.
“You look a lot like her…” Shadowdrop huffed. He walked around Froggy, who squirmed under his intense gaze. Shadowdrop sneered and asked, “You don’t know a gray and pale ginger tortoiseshell, do you?”
“I met one moons back,” Froggy admitted with an awkward laugh, “but that’s not a story for polite company.”
“Oh, StarClan,” Shadowdrop groaned, rejoining his brother. “Halibutdusk, I think this is our sire.” Halibutdusk stared at Froggy, whose eyes bounced between the two toms. He really did look just like Duskkit…
“Well,” Froggy laughed, “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting kits that I sired before! To think I met my daughter and never realized! I’ll have to meet her again before my humans head home.”
“You can’t,” Halibutdusk gulped. “She died not long after you met her.” Froggy’s clean, fluffy fur deflated.
“Oh,” Froggy sighed. “Poor kit. She seemed like a bright one. You had another sister, didn’t you?”
“Graythroat,” Halibutdusk groaned, “but she… might not react well to you. She gets a little defensive when strangers enter our territory.”
“Speaking of which,” Shadowdrop huffed, “while it was nice to meet you, we do need to escort you out. Those are the rules of our Clan.”
“So be it,” Froggy sighed with a dismissive flick of his whiskers. “I’ll be seeing more of you, though. I’ll pop by when I can. Maybe you can convince that sister of yours to see me.”
Shadowdrop said something about Graythroat and escorting Froggy to the border, but Halibutdusk couldn’t stop staring at Froggy’s fur. All he could think was that Duskkit’s fur might have grown to look like that had she lived.
(Shadowdrop: 15, male, codekeeper, sneaky, eloquent speaker, good teacher)
(Halibutdusk: 15, male, warrior, gloomy, great storyteller, clever)
(Froggy: 92, male, kittypet, rebellious, maintains the territory, great speaker)
Downstar heard an ugly rumor about Weedfoot.
[Image ID: Puddlespeckle and Weedfoot chat in the distance. Fennelspot and Downstar sit together.]
---
When Downstar woke up that day, Rabbitjoy entered her den and essentially said “Rattlepaw is cooking today and no one is going to say anything bad about it,” albeit in more polite terms. Downstar had no qualms with it, of course; she had done a similar thing while training Carnationspeckle and Clammask. But neither molly had looked utterly terrified beside a smoker, placing each fish on a row like at any moment the entire structure would burst into flames. As such, it took a while for everyone in the Clan to get their fair share of food.
When it was Downstar’s turn to try Rattlepaw’s cooking, she grabbed two smoked fish and took them to Fennelspot, who watched Rattlepaw like a mother watches a kit at play. Downstar balanced the fish between her shoulders, for they were so tender that if she held them in her mouth, they would surely fall into the sand. She crouched in front of Fennelspot so he would notice the fish. He snapped out of it and took a fish off Downstar’s back. Downstar settled next to him with her own fish laying across her paws.
“If she keeps flinching like that, she’ll burn herself,” Fennelspot sighed.
“She just needs practice,” Downstar muttered, biting into the fish. Rattlepaw may have cooked them a bit too long, but it was still good.
“I thought you were going to eat with Weedfoot today,” Fennelspot noted. The gray deputy ate with her father, who wasn’t snapping at her to get away for once. “Didn’t you want to discuss trade with AshClan over a meal?” Downstar took a big bite of overcooked fish to avoid answering. Fennelspot kept staring at her until she had to swallow or choke.
“I wanted to eat in peace,” Downstar muttered. “She’s the deputy. She can figure out the trade agreements without me. She has Rabbitjoy to help.”
“But you’ve worked through these issues together since we founded RippleClan,” Fennelspot huffed.
“Apparently Weedfoot thinks she can do a better job than me as leader anyway,” Downstar grumbled, her skin itching under the stare of the sun and her cleric. She heard her, she was certain of it. She and Oilstripe had been talking just outside her den. They wondered if AshClan could have been handled better if Paleshade was in charge, if Weedfoot was in charge. They agreed that Downstar would be leader. They trusted her judgment, didn’t they? Why would they doubt her? She handled AshClan as best she could.
“That’s not true,” Fennelspot said.
“Fennelspot, I didn’t sit with you to debate,” Downstar snapped. “Can we eat, please?” Fennelspot jumped at Downstar’s sharp words. Downstar turned back to her fish.
Why in StarClan was she snapping at Fennelspot? He was trying to help. The fish flopped in Downstar’s belly as Fennelspot scooted back. Maybe she needed some space. So much had happened since the Clan came to be… maybe she needed to reevaluate some things. She didn’t know. All she knew was that she couldn’t stomach another bite of her smoky fish.
(Downstar: 82, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Rabbitjoy: 60, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver)
(Rattlepaw: 6, female, artisan apprentice, insecure, plays with prey)
(Fennelspot: 80, male, cleric, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)
(Weedfoot: 72, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)
(Puddlespeckle: 149, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)