Rattlepelt and Wildclaw are asked to take in a litter of three from AshClan.
[Image ID: Wildclaw and Rattlepelt stand above three newborns. The first, a gold spotted tom with a white belly, has the caption NEW PLAYER: SUNKIT, 0, MALE, FEARLESS. The second kit, a red tom with a few white spots, has the caption NEW PLAYER: BERRYKIT, 0, MALE, BULLYING. The last kit, a calico molly, has the caption NEW PLAYER: SKYKIT, 0, FEMALE, KNOW-IT-ALL.]
"I don't like this, Rattlepelt," Wildclaw muttered as every step sent her sinking to her belly in air-like snow. "I don't like AshClan requesting to see us both like this. I have no friends in AshClan. This can't be good."
"You are the Clan deputy," Rattlepelt reminded her mate. The tail of her fox pelt left a long line in the snow. "It's not so strange for AshClan to speak with you. They could want to discuss some new form of trade, so they invite your artisan mate along."
"Enough bad things happen to the two of us that I'm allowed to be concerned," Wildclaw huffed. "We still don't know what happened to Billowhaze, Splashtuft, and Tallowheart."
"I don't think AshClan is able to make bodies disappear so easily," Rattlepelt sighed, still managing to chuckle despite the weight of the strange tragedy.
It was a gray morning when the two mollies left camp for the AshClan border. Dovefur had returned early from his border patrol, explaining that Leathermask and Rapidleaf were waiting with a gaggle of AshClan cats who wanted to speak with Wildclaw and Rattlepelt. The weather matched the tension each RippleClan cat carried in their hearts. No one, not even the clerics who confirmed their deaths, had an answer for the strange disappearances that rocked the Clan. It barely felt like the three toms were dead, just… out on patrol. So that's all most cats could do. Patrol, and hope to fill the sudden, inexplicable hole in their lives.
At least it properly looked like winter. The snow was so ridiculously fluffy that Wildclaw could barely feel it. It was the sort of snow that kits should spend their days frolicking in and apprentice should bury themselves under to pull pranks on their poor mentors. Wildclaw wondered if Midnightpaw had memories of snow from his early moons. She hoped Valleypaw could enjoy the snow in StarClan, free fron the deadly cold.
Wildclaw and Rattlepelt spotted Leathermask and Rapidleaf before either of them could continue overthinking the situation. They waited by the border alongside Terracottafoot and one of AshClan's mediators. Wildclaw put on her deputy's mask and nodded to the AshClan representatives.
"Greetings, Terracottafoot," Wildclaw said. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"That's not the least of it," Rapidleaf pointed out. "There were two other cats here before we sent Dovefur for you. They still haven't come back."
"I'm glad you both could make it," Terracottafoot purred, licking their cold paws. "Truthfully, Paleseed has raved about how good-hearted you both are."
"Excuse me?" Rattlepelt said with a slight head tilt.
"Well, the two toms you adopted, Midnightpaw and Valleypaw," Terracottafoot stammered, tail curling as they searched for the right words. "They were your third adopted litter, right? You've taken in a lot of kits who needed love and attention."
"Shrewflame and Whiteflower weren't really litters," Wildclaw chuckled politely, "but they needed someone in the nursery with them, and we've never regretted it." Rattlepelt nodded along to her mate's assessment, touching her nose to Wildclaw's cheek.
"That's why we asked for you two specifically," Terracottafoot gulped. "I don't have a good way to ask this, but there are some cats who need your help."
"Oh stars," Leathermask muttered, catching sight of the returning AshClan cats before the smell of birth and milk reached Wildclaw's nose.
The two AshClan cats who had left before Wildclaw and Rattlepelt's arrival carried three kits with them. The first AshClan cat carried two kits at once; both stocky for their tiny forms, one was a stunning red while the other at first seemed pure white, but revealed ginger patches and a black tail when she squirmed. The other AshClan cat carried a golden spotted tom. None of them could have been older than half a moon, but were almost certainly younger than that.
"We didn't want them to wait in the cold if we didn't find a patrol," Terracottafoot explained awkwardly.
"So colorful," Wildclaw muttered. The calico, the only molly of the three, shifted her half-sealed gaze toward Wildclaw. Baby blue eyes gleamed like spots of sky against a cloudy sky.
"I didn't know you had a flair for the dramatic, Terracottafoot," Rattlepelt huffed. "You didn't think to say anything about this before you brought the kits?"
"Maybe you should just hear the story," Terracottafoot awkwardly suggested.
"Are you giving away AshClan kits?" Rapidleaf asked.
"They belonged to Caretaker Dayhaze," Terracottafoot explained. "You probably knew her best, Warrior Leathermask. She suffered complications in the birth and finally past yesterday."
"Dayhaze is mates with Bluesun," Leathermask pointed out. "Why aren't these kits with their father?"
"You misunderstand," the mediator beside Terracottafoot said. "They are Dayhaze's children, but not Bluesun's."
"Oh," Wildclaw gulped. She instinctively shifted a paw to touch Rattlepelt's. Rattlepelt returned the gesture.
"The sire was a kittypet in the human settlement," Terracottafoot continued. "The yellowcough outbreak took him shortly after Caretaker Dayhaze became pregnant. We discussed what she wanted for her kits after she passed, and she decided they would fare better in RippleClan."
"No one in AshClan would adopt them?" Wildclaw muttered. "If a nurse is what you need, Mitespark gave birth to her litter two days ago. She could help."
"If Caretaker Dayhaze did not want the kits to be adopted by an AshClan couple," the mediator beside Terracottafoot sighed, "we have to respect that. Don't look at us like we're tossing them out."
"I'm more-so surprised Eelstar agreed to it," Wildclaw scoffed.
"He didn't have to," Terracottafoot sighed, dipping their head. "I'm sad to announce that Eelstar has joined StarClan."
Good, Wildclaw thought as the faces of her Clanmates shifted with the less-than-awful news. Wildclaw stood taller. Eelstar may have changed from the lackey he was under Autumnstar, but he was still a spirit of suffering in the collective memory of RippleClan. For him to live beyond Downstar and Weedfoot was an insult to their suffering under his burnt paws.
"Barkfur has his nine lives, then?" Wildclaw grunted, the mask of diplomacy slipping with a crack in her voice.
"Elder Barkfur is as old as Eelstar," the interrupting meditator said. "He decided, for the good of the Clan, to retire and give leadership to younger blood. The reign of Lichenstar has now begun."
"My niece," Terracottafoot coughed, concealing a purr of pride. Well then! Wildclaw knew Lichenstar, once Lichenfur. She had been a codekeeper with an unmatched lust for the intricacies of trials and the balance of justice and mercy. Wildclaw made a note to tell Oilstar of this, although as the calico kitten continued to stare at her, her focus slipped.
"Lichenstar deeply values parental rights and the wellbeing of our kits," the mediator noted. "This was Dayhaze's wish, and Lichenstar respects it. As she decreed, it is better for our children to live beyond our reach than to live within and feel the claws of uncaring hearts. Bluesun… has not reacted well to the affair." Maternal fury sparked in Wildclaw's heart. Rattlepelt gently nosed Wildclaw, drawing her eyes off the kits.
"Do you remember what you told me when we found Midnightpaw and Valleypaw?" Rattlepelt said. "It felt like one of those moments StarClan designs just for us. Every time we've taken someone in, they've only made our lives brighter."
"I thought you would be hesitant," Wildclaw stammered. She shifted her back to AshClan, giving her and Rattlepelt a bit more privacy. "We lost Valleypaw just a few moons ago. I thought you'd want to mourn longer. I'm usually the one convincing you of these things."
"I'm sure I don't need to convince you of this," Rattlepelt sighed, brushing her fox pelt against Wildclaw. "You can barely look away."
"You'll take them?" Terracottafoot held their breath.
"That's what their mother wanted," Wildclaw hummed, inching close to the kits. The red kit squinted at Wildclaw, his tiny paws twitching toward her. The golden kit in the back mewled for his brother and sister, outraged at the separation.
"Thank you," Terracottafoot purred, waving the other AshClan cats closer. "Thank you both. There's just one thing we need to do. It's only right that the kits take part in one last AshClan tradition. Just sit together, right here." Terracottafoot patted the snow. Wildclaw and Rattlepelt hesitantly obeyed, sitting right at the edge of the border. Terracottafoot flicked their tail, and the two AshClan cats carrying the kits placed them at Wildclaw and Rattlepelt's paws.
"We can't let them sit in the snow," Rattlepelt snapped, shuffling her fox pelt off. "Here, here, put them on this." Rattlepelt shivered violently as a soft breeze rolled over her exposed silver skin. She rubbed into Wildclaw as the gray deputy tugged the fox pelt underneath the squirming kits. The golden kit did his best to stand, but flopped onto his jaw with a silly mew of protest. The red tom and the calico molly nibbled at the fox fur, hoping to nurse. Terracottafoot sat in front of the newly formed family, clearing their throat.
"We ask our warrior ancestors to look upon these kits and offer your blessings," Terracottafoot recited, eyes to the gray morning sky. "We do not wish to strip them of their heritage, of the parents who brought them into this world. We only ask that their family grow to take on new guardians, cats to share in the responsibilities of those who came before. Warriors of StarClan, bless Wildclaw and Rattlepelt as they accept the children of Dayhaze into their family, joining her in forever guarding the hearts of the kits before them." Wildclaw nosed each kit, taking in their soft scent. She gave the calico kitten a special lick on the head; it would be nice to have a daughter for once.
"We'll keep them safe," Rattlepelt promised, heart and voice warm.
"Just one thing before you take them to RippleClan," Terracottafoot stammered. The spell of their ritual faded, replaced with their usual nervous demeanor. "Dayhaze named them, and I know it was important to her that they keep their names."
"Of course," Wildclaw huffed. "Who's who?"
"She named the red tom Berrykit," Terracottafoot explained, "after holly berries. The calico is Skykit. Dayhaze thought she looked like the sun breaking through thick clouds with those ginger patches. And this squirmy golden kit is Sunkit."
"They're wonderful," Rapidleaf purred.
"I'm sorry though, Terracottafoot," Leathermask sighed, bowing slightly to the AshClan cleric. "You seem to care for Dayhaze."
"She was a good molly, even if she wasn't faithful," Terracottafoot said, nodding as though they had to confirm their own beliefs. "I know her kits will fare well with you, Deputy Wildclaw." Wildclaw studied her new kits. Berrykit had become bored with the fox fur and now nibbled at Skykit. Skykit squealed and clumsily kicked at her brother. Sunkit continued his determined efforts to stand, despite tumbling once more onto the fox pelt.
"We'll protect them," Wildclaw promised. "They'll always be loved."
She couldn't say they'd be safe; memories of Valleypaw running out of camp, her last glimpse of her son, glimmered in her mind's eye. But to say they would be loved… that was a promise Wildclaw could keep.
(Wildclaw: 95, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
(Leathermask: 51, male, warrior, confident, good fighter, eloquent speaker)
(Berrykit: 0, male, kit, bullying)
(Skykit: 0, female, kit, know-it-all)
(Sunkit: 0, male, kit, fearless)
Mitespark safely delivers her litter of six kits, although two of them pass within the first two days. She and Wolverineheart thank the spirits of StarClan who accompanied their four beautiful kits to RippleClan.
[Image ID: Mitespark and Wolverineheart watch over a litter of four. Beside Mitespark, it reads - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. The first kit is a brown, ginger, and white tortoiseshell molly. Under her, it reads NEW PLAYER: LIGHTKIT, 0, FEMALE, DAYDREAMER. The next kit, a black tom, has the caption NEW PLAYER: FUZZYKIT, 0, MALE, UNRULY. Under the next kit, a golden tom with a white patch on his back, it says NEW PLAYER: GOLDENKIT, 0, MALE, BULLYING. The last kit is black and pale ginger with the caption NEW PLAYER: SNAKEKIT, 0, FEMALE, POLITE.]
(Mitespark: 45, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)
(Wolverineheart: 35, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)
(Lightkit: 0, female, kit, daydreamer)
(Fuzzykit: 0, male, kit, unruly)
(Goldenkit: 0, male, kit, bullying)
(Snakekit: 0, female, kit, polite)
Icepaw finally becomes Icepounce and promises his sister that she too will graduate some day.
[Image ID: Icepaw, now Icepounce, tells Quickpaw, "It won't be long!" Under him, it reads LEVEL UP! ICEPAW → ICEPOUNCE, FIERCE → ADVENTUROUS, NEVER SITS STILL → FAST AS THE WIND, ODDLY OBSERVANT → NATURAL INTUITION.]
(Icepounce: 13, male, teacher, adventurous, fast as the wind, natural intuition)
(Quickpaw: 13, female, historian apprentice, ambitious, good swimmer)
Beepaw, Patchpaw, and Morningpaw are apprenticed to Puddlewhisper, Shrewflame, and Icepounce.
[Image ID: Beepaw, Patchpaw, and Morningpaw all have apprentice sprites. Under Beepaw, it says LEVEL UP! BEEKIT → BEEPAW, NOISY → BOLD, + NEW SKILL: PICKY NEST BUILDER. Under Patchpaw, it reads LEVEL UP! PATCHKIT → PATCHPAW, CHARMING → ADVENTUROUS. Under Morningpaw, it reads LEVEL UP! MORNINGKIT → MORNINGPAW, BOSSY → CONFIDENT.]
Love is not in the air this moon; Billowhaze and Wolfgaze have a huge fight over how much time Wolfgaze sets aside for their relationship and break up. Meanwhile, Yellowburst finally acts on her kithood crush toward Thundergale and fails miserably.
[Image ID: Billowhaze yowls at Wolfgaze, "How am I supposed to feel important when you're… you?" Under Billowhaze, it says - MATE: WOLFGAZE. Under Wolfgaze, it says - MATE: BILLOWHAZE. In the back, Thundergale walks away from Yellowburst.]
(Billowhaze: 37, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)
(Wolfgaze: 37, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)
(Thundergale: 34, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)
(Yellowburst: 33, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)
Dovefur spends his vigil contemplating the true nature of Clan life and his role in the Clan. The next morning, he quietly asks Shrewflame to help him learn caretaker skills as he continues his warrior duties.
[Image ID: Dovefur is now an adult. Under him, it reads LEVEL UP! DOVEPAW → DOVEFUR, OBLIVIOUS → COMPASSIONATE, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GREAT KITSITTER. Shrewflame says to him, "Yellowburst wanted to get out of kit sitting today… could you help?"]
(Dovefur: 12, male, warrior, compassionate, great kitsitter)
(Shrewflame: 26, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)
Midnightpaw eavesdrops on Oilstar and wonders if he will ever able to care for himself.
[Image ID: Midnightpaw listens to Oilstar and Anchovystrike while Wolverineheart approaches him from behind.]
---
Midnightpaw was starting to lose it. The bandage that always seemed to cover the left side of his face irritated his skin, leaving him perpetually scratching at his scars. He begged Anchovystrike to let him go hunting, or patrolling, or anything that would get him out of camp, but his mentor put him down at every turn, leaving him to scrape by with the teachers in camp. It was so unfair! Midnightpaw could almost hear Valleypaw in the back of his mind, chastizing him for risking the recovery of his vision over a bit of boredom. Valleypaw got to enjoy perpetual hunting and fun in StarClan, so maybe he could back off.
Yep. Midnightpaw was losing his mind.
"Thank you for collecting the ashes, Midnight," Rattlepelt purred as she scooped said ashes into a pot of water and salt. "We'll let the skins soak in this solution, then scrap off the excess hair."
"And then we use the dung?" Midnightpaw groaned, poking at the stripped hides that sat at his feet.
"Don't worry," Rattlepelt chuckled, giving Midnightpaw a lick on the head. "I won't make you clean out the dirtplace for that. The caretakers get to do that." Rattlepelt winked as she grabbed a mouse hide and dropped it in the pot.
As Rattlepelt tried to include her son in her work, Midnightpaw's eye drifted around camp. There was still no snow, even though the older cats all insisted it would come any day now. Instead, it seemed like a gray autumn, where afternoon patrols and duties attempted to squeeze color back into camp. Everyone was focused on their duties, as had been the routine since RippleClan got back into their camp. It seemed like any cat with even a whisker of skill with leatherwork was busy crafting long pelts and leather flooring, replacing whatever was still wrecked from the flood.
"We just let that sit for now," Rattlepelt sighed, dumping the last pelt into the mixture. "I won't keep you any longer, Midnightpaw."
"Please keep me longer," Midnightpaw begged, front paws pressing against Rattlepelt's shoulder. "I have nothing to do!"
"Anchovystrike still hasn't taken you on patrol?" Rattlepelt muttered. "I thought Troutpool cleared you for patrols last moon."
"That's what I told him!" Midnightpaw groaned. Rattlepelt scanned the camp, but Anchovystrike could not be seen.
"I respect how busy he must be, what with the Rat Leader issue," Rattlepelt grumbled, licking the salty, ashy solution off her paws, "but that's no excuse to delay your training. Oilstar has been taking meetings since sunhigh. You should go to her and complain."
"I can do that?" Midnightpaw gasped, gaze locking onto Oilstar's den.
"If you don't, I will," Rattlepelt promised with a huff. "There's a lot I could say to both of your mentors, if I was a younger molly."
"Both?" Midnightpaw cocked his head, bandage once more scratching his skin. Rattlepelt stiffened slightly, paw held to her tongue for a moment too long.
"I think you know what I mean," Rattlepelt sighed, setting her paw down and licking Midnightpaw's ear. "Now go see Oilstar." Midnightpaw did not, in fact, know what his mother meant, but like many things, he did not question it. Instead, he made his way toward Oilstar's den, skirting around the Clan at work.
"He's the deputy's son, Anchovystrike." Oilstar's voice drifted from the shipwreck. "She's going to notice when his mentor doesn't take him on patrol." The sound carried Anchovystrike's scent with her. Midnightpaw perked up! Oilstar was already telling his mentor off! Good! He lingered near the Shiprock, ears turned to the den. Might as well see how mad Oilstar was.
"Do you really want Midnightpaw at the river with me right now?" Anchovystrike pointed out. Midnightpaw could just make out the swish of the white-speckled tom's tail. "The clerics want me at the border, but I don't think they want Midnightpaw catching yellowcough while he's still healing."
"Mentors have taken their apprentices out in worse conditions," Oilstar huffed. "Really, Anchovystrike, you should be ashamed. You of all cats know how warriors can adapt to vision loss. Your own sister has a condition not too different from Midnightpaw."
"No, no, that's not it," Anchovystrike stammered. "That's not the whole story, I mean."
"I was a historian. You know I appreciate a good story."
"I know he's your grandson, Oilstar, but the more I look at him, the more I worry he can't handle the responsibilities of being a warrior." Wait, it wasn't about Midnightpaw's vision? The black tom grew hot.
"In what way?" Oilstar pressed.
"Even before the accident, Midnightpaw seemed… distant. He always seems just half aware of what's happening at any given moment. He struggles to pick up on hunting cues. He's surprised by the noisiest cats. And the way he's helped around camp since the flood? Someone always needs to fix his mistakes. He messes up on simple tasks. If I take him out of camp, who's to say he won't wander across the border, or into the jaws of a wolf?"
No! Midnightpaw was a good apprentice. He worked hard! He just proved Anchovystrike wrong, he helped Rattlepelt prepare hides! Although all he did was claw off excess flesh… Midnightpaw burned in the winter chill, heart pounding.
"He's an apprentice," Oilstar huffed. "He spent most of his training in recovery. He's allowed to struggle."
"It's just the way he struggles," Anchovystrike groaned. "I don't like saying this, but at this point, I'm not sure Midnightpaw could ever be a warrior."
"Eavesdropping, Midnightpaw?" Midnightpaw jumped, back arching high. Wolverineheart stood behind him, head tilted slightly, a soft purr just reaching Midnightpaw's ears. Midnightpaw blinked dumbly. Should he say yes? Was this a question he was meant to answer? What did Wolverineheart want to know? Wolverineheart's face shifted from mirth to concern as Midnightpaw stayed frozen.
"I'm only teasing you," Wolverineheart said softly. "What's wrong?"
"Do I have to be an elder?" Midnightpaw managed to gulp. Wolverineheart stood taller, sharing in Midnightpaw's dumbfounded look.
"I don't think you're quite that old," Wolverineheart chuckled, eyes avoiding Midnightpaw.
"If I can't do anything, I have to be an elder," Midnightpaw explained, voice tightening. "Isn't that how it works?" The mouth of the elder's den across camp looked like a bear's endless maw, begging Midnightpaw to step inside and slide down its gullet.
"Who do I have to yowl at?" Wolverineheart snapped, surprising Midnightpaw once more. When had the brown molly's face soured? "No matter how well your eye heals, you can still follow your dreams. If you have to retire, half this Clan would be elders. What coward told you otherwise?"
"It's not my eye," Midnightpaw gulped, panting under the sheer heat of his anxiety. "It's me. I don't…" Could he tell Wolverineheart what Anchovystrike thought of him? Midnightpaw didn't think he was inattentive, or oblivious, or dumb… but if his own mentor thought he'd kill himself on patrol, how good of a warrior could he ever be?
It was only because of Wolverineheart's sudden shift that Midnightpaw realized Oilstar and Anchovystrike were leaving the den. A flash of surprise crossed both their faces, although Midnightpaw barely understood it. If they realized he had listened to their conversation, neither cat brought it up.
"I'm glad to see you, Midnightpaw," Oilstar sighed, touching noses with her grandson. "Anchovystrike and I just got done with an important talk."
"Am I an elder now?" Midnightpaw asked. The blood spinning in his head made it hard to focus on Oilstar's words.
"No!" all three adults yowled, in varying degrees of horror.
"You'll be a warrior someday," Oilstar promised, licking Midnightpaw's ear, "even though your training will take longer. No, Anchovystrike and I decided that, with everything that has happened in recent moons, he can't take the time to be the best mentor he could be for you." Wolverineheart's bi-colored gaze hardened on Anchovystrike, who quickly pulled his eyes down. "Since Troutpool has cleared you for training again, I want to give you a different mentor."
"I'll do it," Wolverineheart interuppted, her whole body perking up.
"Oh," Oilstar gasped softly. "I'm glad to see you're enthusiastic, Wolverineheart, but I was thinking someone with more experience as a mentor, like Halibutdusk. You'll be a mother soon. I don't want to take you away from your kits."
"Whatever you think Midnightpaw needs," Wolverineheart huffed, hardening her stance, "I can give him. I would love to be a mentor. The blind can lead the blind!"
"Do I count as blind?" Midnightpaw muttered. The itch of his bandages once more became the only thing he could focus on.
"You make a good argument," Oilstar conceded with a nod. "I'll summon the Clan and make you Midnightpaw's official mentor."
Midnightpaw's thoughts swam wildly as Oilstar climbed the Shiprock. Anchovystrike said something to him—an apology?—but the words didn't pierce Midnightpaw's mind. He wasn't helpless. He could still go on adventures. He could still graduate.
(Wolverineheart: 34, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)
RippleClan wakes up to its first snowfall, but find Tallowheart, Splashtuft, and Billowhaze never returned from their nighttime hunt. They find neither sight or scent of the three toms. Estherfern can only confirm their deaths in a dream... a bad, bad dream.
[Image ID: Estherfern looks upon Tallowheart, Splashtuft, and Billowhaze, now spirits of StarClan. Estherfern yowls, "Is the All-Seeing preventing you from explaining yourselves? Say something!"]
(Estherfern: 136, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
(Tallowheart: 38, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)
(Splashtuft: 50, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)
(Billowhaze: 37, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)
When Weevilsight won't leave the medicine den, her sisters force her on a walk.
[Image ID: Weevilsight, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver sit in the snow together. Wolfgaze and Ravenweaver groom Weevilsight, who sits disconnected from the world while she vents about all the grief and sorrow of recent moons, all stemming from their mother. Art by @unfortunatereader.]
(Weevilsight: 26, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
(Wolfgaze: 26, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)
(Ravenweaver: 26, female, artisan, den builder, very clever)
Washington provides a gentle and wise ear to Halibutdusk. He listens to Halibutdusk's grief and draws on his own recent losses to provide what little comfort he can.
[Image ID: Washington talks with Halibutdusk outside the medicine den. Halibutdusk sits, looking at their paws, while Washington lays beside him. Art by @smashgal.]
(Washington: 219, male, elder, nervous, good mediator)
Vervaincough takes her grief and frustration out on Slushtrail.
[Image ID: There are two images that include Vervaincough and Slushtrail in the snow. In the first, Vervaincough yells at Slushtrail with tears falling down her cheeks, angry and hurt while Slushtrail listens like a good mediator. In the next, Slushtrail grooms Vervaincough's head and wraps her paws around her while Vervaincough leans in, continuing to cry. Art by @salt-clangen.]
(Vervaincough: 26, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)
Rattlepelt and Wildclaw share a nest in the nursery for the night.
[Image ID: A two-page comic showing Rattlepelt and Wildclaw in the nursery at night, curled around Midnightkit and Valleykit. The camp is tinted purple, but Rattlepelt and Wildclaw's eyes are bright. Rattlepelt wears her fox pelt with lavender woven into the fur and stuffed in the eye sockets. The pair have the following conversation, which ends in Wildclaw pulling Rattlepelt into the nest and the pair curling around their sons:
W: "Rattlepelt?"
W: "The kittens will get cold with just me in the nest, dear, come in."
R: "I... shouldn't."
W: "What's wrong now?"
R: "You know what it is..."
R: "Mousesong, then Carnationspeckle's kidnapping, then I get possessed and it leads to the death of a kit. And me and Mousesong are just like our little ones, all of them orphaned, and now..."
R: "It's me , isn't it? Why Trumpetspore's gone? I'm- I must be cursed, and now what will happen to the kittens? or my moms? Or you-"
-she gets yoinked-
W: "first off."
W: "my mate is not cursed. I'd know, having had an omen cat as kin."
R: "ough! What in Starclan's-"
W: "and second, I can protect myself."
W: "I can protect them, and I can protect you."
W: "But right now, they need their mama to also warm them up, no matter what circumstances led them to our care."
Art by @cappuccino-bear.]
(Wildclaw: 83, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
Surprise, everyone! I've been working with a few of my most vocal fans for a special moon update featuring proper art of your beloved cats! I am so grateful to everyone who agreed to draw a scene, especially since they had to keep some events secret for a while. I adore each piece. The individuality of each style is powerful and adds so much life to this. I promise happier moments ahead, even with the normal chaos of the Clans!
During a storm, the ocean waves crash into RippleClan’s camp, threatening to drown many.
[Image ID: Wildclaw and Brightreed stand on a boulder amidst stormy waters, with Wolfgaze on a rock in the background. Wildclaw yowls, "Valleypaw!" to which Brightreed responses, "I'll get him!" Under him, it reads + CONDITION: TORN PELT.]
It's a rite of passage for RippleClan kits to stare up at the great shipwreck that watched over the camp and ask the nearest historian "How did it get here?" After all, even the youngest kits could see the ocean from camp and hear the water at its highest tide, tail-lengths from the westernmost rocks. It never rose high enough to lift a ship all the way from the horizon to the top of the rocks. So how did it happen?
Historians would give some vague guess, some storm that none of them had ever witnessed, but they could never give a definitive answer. It had been there before their parents' parents' parents. No one would ever know what caused RippleClan's ship to wreck itself upon the coast of the Clans.
But that day, as rain pelted RippleClan as hard as claws against skin and saltwater leaked between the western walls, Yarrowclaw could imagine how the ship landed on RippleClan's shore.
RippleClan only realized that the storm had grown worse when Billowhaze loudly complained about his nest being wet, waking up everyone in the warrior's den. Water flowed through minute gaps in the wall in a steady stream, soaking into the leather floor. It ruined the nests near the back of the den, ending just before Yarrowclaw's nest. The brown and white warrior stirred only as surprised orders bounced around the den and cats scrambled out into the bruising rain.
"Asterblaze!" Wildclaw barked, the first out of the den. "Valleypaw! The warrior's den is flooding! We need to dam the holes!" Asterblaze and Valleypaw, who had both been guarding the camp through the night and were soaked through their skin, hurried into camp at the deputy's call.
"The water will ruin the artisan's den," Rattlepelt gulped, hurriedly pulling her fox pelt over. "We need paws to take our supplies to higher ground."
"You can direct the other artisans on that," Wildclaw told her mate with a swift nod. "The tree line should provide some cover for now."
"Valleypaw, loop around camp and find the weak points on that side of the den wall," Asterblaze told his young apprentice. "I'll get some mud, and that should seal them up well enough to get through this rain."
"I'll try," Valleypaw promised as the artisans swarmed past the stunned crowd of soaked warriors, following Rattlepelt's orders to move their pots and baskets.
"Be mindful of the waves!" Asterblaze added before Valleypaw ran out of camp. In an artisan's tale, that sort of statement would have been followed by a violent clap of thunder, but the sky was dark, simply relieving its unbearable load.
Yarrowclaw's fellow warriors squirmed and groaned at the rain, shaking or licking their pelts in vain. Ravenweaver and Mitespark rolled a large pot across the soaked sand while Frostdancer ran basketloads of smaller supplies out to the forest. Yarrowclaw's paws itched. Should she be moving supplies too? Would the rain ruin the fresh-kill? She could—no. No ideas. She had to just listen to what Wildclaw ordered. That was what was best.
"Where are we supposed to sleep?" Billowhaze groaned, ears dragged down with waterweight. "I'm not going back in there tonight."
"We'll figure that out," Wildclaw huffed. "I'm sure we can make room in the other dens."
Yarrowclaw was used to the sound of stormy waves hitting the shore beyond the warrior's den. She knew their foaming, creaking sound well. That sound was a steady backdrop to the night's annoyances. Yet Yarrowclaw's ears bled as a loud creak began to overtake Wildclaw's voice. Yarrowclaw looked toward the foam-stained walls of camp, walls that had never had so much ocean foam smeared on their surfaces as long as Yarrowclaw had been around. Beyond those bramble-topped walls, the ocean stood up.
"SHIT!" Wildclaw shrieked above the rising chaos as the gigantic wave crashed into RippleClan's camp.
Yarrowclaw's paws left the ground. Saltwater surrounded her on all sides. The force of the wave shoved the air out of her chest. Someone's large form smacked into Yarrowclaw's jaw. The pair locked claws into each other, desperate for something, anything, they could hold onto. The wave shoved the confused cats deep into the sand, pressed into the crook of a rock. Yarrowclaw's eyes burned with salt.
When the sting of rain hit Yarrowclaw's nose, the half-drowned warrior gasped violently. Her vision blurred as the cat she had collided with, Venturedapple, stumbled off her. Yarrowclaw coughed out salt and foam. Water formed a pool across the camp. The brambles that lined the eastern wall of camp were now thrown about the clearing, broken by the force of the water. Warriors laid in heaps, smashed against the rocks but still breathing, still groaning and hissing with newfound bruises. Oilstar shoved a fallen plank out from in front of her den and searched for explanation. Wolfgaze had somehow landed perfectly on top of the apprentice's den and looked just as shocked by the sight as Yarrowclaw felt about seeing her.
Some of the smaller rocks of the camp wall had rolled from their resting place. Yarrowclaw nearly exploded when she saw one of the rocks that formed the sides of the nursery had rolled in front of it, but she remembered—Stormjump had that infection. She was in the medicine den, and her kits would be with her or Honeybuzz. The medicine den only had a fallen plank floating in the paw-deep water, they were fine for now. Even though water now flowed over the rocks and deepened the waters within camp, everyone was still in camp. The artisans were by the forest, so…
Wait. No. Valleypaw.
"Valleypaw!" Wildclaw yowled. She had landed belly-up in front of the elder's den, next to a dazed Anchovystrike and an unconscious Leathermask. Despite her wounded Clanmates surrounding her, Wildclaw scrambled up, hissing as she moved. She limped toward the flooding wall and climbed onto the brambleless rocks. She searched the watery beach beyond the wall for signs of black fur and yellow eyes. As she looked, Brightreed crawled out from underneath Wolverineheart and Thundergale; the three had been washed against the eastern walls and laid under the falling water as they collected themselves. A bramble mass clung to Brightreed's body, but he shoved it off despite the blood mixing into the dark stormy waters.
"I'll get him!" Brightreed yowled. He jumped onto the slick rocks and dove into the unseen waters beyond. Wildclaw shook herself out, flinging thick drops about, before following the young warrior down.
Yarrowclaw examined herself. She was cold, yes, and certainly aching and bruised, like everyone else. Yet, unlike Leathermask, she was not unconscious. Unlike Brightreed, she was not bleeding. Unlike Tallowheart, when he stumbled into camp with broken ribs, nothing was broken. Even Venturedapple, who groaned at Yarrowclaw's side, seemed shockingly unharmed. Would he have been so safe if he hadn't been thrown into Yarrowclaw? He practically rode her to… to safety.
"StarClan, no," Yarrowclaw muttered, voice lost in the rain and crashing waves. "Please. I can't be prophesized. Please."
Yarrowclaw had barely listened to Oilstar or the clerics since Estherfern told her about her vision. Whatever it was about, Yarrowclaw couldn't help. She offered a dozen interpretations. If the ship was covered in white flowers, maybe they should be talking to the cat literally named Whiteflower. If it was a ship, maybe it was related to the shipwreck itself and not an individual cat. Anything could be true, except for what Yarrowclaw knew to be true. The feral little voice in her head was already rambling.
You're special. You knew it. You knew it! You're chosen. You're invincible. You're going to survive the storm. No matter what happens today, you can't die. StarClan said so. If ships carry others to shore, and you're the ship, you can save your Clan. No one will die if you're around.
No, no, no! Yarrowclaw couldn't be special, she could not be chosen or invincible for her own sake. The moment she gave into those wild, uncontrollable feelings, she put everyone at risk. And yet the vision… it was almost permission to give in. It was StarClan's way of saying just this once, you can be a little delusional, because in this situation, you aren't.
You get to be a hero, Yarrowclaw.
"Get to the forest!" Yarrowclaw yowled as Icepaw and Pearpaw waded out of the apprentice's den, coughing and shaking. "We need to get out of camp! Just evacuate!"
"Find your kin, everyone!" Oilstar barked as another wave crested over the rocks. The Clan dug their paws into the sand and stood against the salty pressure. Yarrowclaw shut her eyes to block out the sting. She held her breath when the water consumed her head and gasped when it receeded. The water now rippled at her elbows.
The clerics aren't out yet. They're dying. You can keep them alive. No one dies around you. Go.
Yarrowclaw jumped through the water, pushing against the terrified warriors flooding toward the exit. She stumbled, jaw smacking the cold water. As she pushed herself up, she saw Oilstar unite with Carnationspeckle in front of the water-filled artisan's den. The mates touched noses, grateful in each other's safety. Oilstar's eyes met Yarrowclaw, stunned at the only cat not flocking for the exit. She believes you're special too, she's the one who tried to convince you, she knows what you have to do. Yarrowclaw pressed on to the medicine den.
The medicine den was more flooded than Yarrowclaw expected. Water seemed to seep through the sand and the cracks in the shipwreck. The back half of the medicine den had turned into a water-filled cave. Tallowheart lingered at the water's edge, struggling to stand even with Troutpool's help. Gingerspring pounded on Weevilsight's prone belly until she vomited water. The tortoiseshell's signature petals floated out of the den. Midnightpaw cowered against the den wall, the left half of his face wrapped tight in bandages. He shook his head wildly as Honeybuzz and Estherfern cooed for him to move.
"It will get worse if we stay," Honeybuzz snapped. "Midnightpaw, we need to leave now. Just go!"
"I can't!" Midnightpaw whined, hiding his good eye against the ruined shelves of medicine.
"Weevilsight, come on, let's get out of here," Gingerspring gulped as Weevilsight stood, shaking and gagging. "We have to go!"
"Yarrowclaw," Estherfern gasped, the first to notice the newcomer in the chaos and rain. There was more fear in her eyes than Yarrowclaw had seen since Mosspounce carried Foampaw's mangled body into camp. Yet at the sight of Yarrowclaw, Estherfern's blown-out pupils relaxed, ever so slightly. "The vision. Just as your ancestors predicted." Estherfern turned toward Troutpool and Tallowheart, who limped away from the thick waters in the back of the den. "Stay with Yarrowclaw, you two. Nothing will happen if you do."
Yes! Yarrowclaw wouldn't let anyone die at her side. A silly storm couldn't kill her. Nothing could! Yarrowclaw bit her tongue. Blood mixed with saltwater.
"Midnightpaw, your brothers and mothers are just out of camp," Yarrowclaw huffed. "I won't let you get dragged off." Midnightpaw stirred from his blind panic, risking a long look at the brown warrior. Honeybuzz took his chance—he shoved Midnightpaw out of his little corner and into Yarrowclaw, splashing all the way.
"We need to get Indigo," Weevilsight coughed as the group trudged out of the medicine den. "They're in the quarantine den. They're still too weak to move through all this."
"I'll get him, I'll get him," Yarrowclaw huffed. She squinted as the full force of the rain once again burned her eyes. The floodwaters dragged at her fur, trying to keep her still.The camp was empty now, everyone else had evacuated. They knew Yarrowclaw couldn't die. No force of nature could contain her! The longer Yarrowclaw stayed in camp, the easier it was to believe that.
"Wait, look," Tallowheart wheezed, wincing as the effort of talking pressed against his broken ribs. A pale ginger figure slipped around the curve of the shipwreck, keeping a lilac cat on their paws.
"Pearpaw?" Troutpool gasped as Pearpaw helped Indigo shove through the heavy waters. "Why haven't you left camp yet? It isn't safe for an apprentice!"
"It isn't safe for Indigo, either, and no one was helping him!" Pearpaw snapped. She buckled as Indigo fell further into her, continuing to cough. Her shaking legs pressed hard into the unseen sand below and shoved Indigo back up.
"Knew I'd like this place," Indigo chuckled weakly. "Could do without the water, though."
"Wave!" Weevilsight screeched, her dark green eyes fixed on the rushing waters flowing over the rocks. Even though Yarrowclaw could not see or hear another massive wave, she knew Weevilsight's clairvoyance was never wrong. Yarrowclaw shoved Honeybuzz and Midnightpaw toward the western walls.
"Brace!" Yarrowclaw ordered as the creaking sound of another massive wave finally reached her ears.
The clerics and their patients swarmed the rocks, pressing themselves flat against the slick stones. Everyone breathed as deep as they could as the next tidal wave smacked over the entire camp. The ocean shoved Yarrowclaw into the wall as hard as it could. She couldn't move, even with her star-blessed invinciblity. The pressure shoved the air out of Yarrowclaw's chest, but she refused to breathe in water. Her face shoved into Honeybuzz's flank, and Midnightpaw's yowl of panic was suffocated by the onslaught.
When the chaos receeded, the water covered Yarrowclaw's belly. Pearpaw, Indigo, and everyone from the medicine den remained along the western wall, leaning against the rocks, struggling for breath. But they were there. Thanks to Yarrowclaw.
"Swim," Yarrowclaw barked, once more shoving Honeybuzz where she needed him to go. The bandages around Midnightpaw's face came undone from the water weight, revealing half-scarred and snarled red marks crossing over his swollen left eye. He instintively hovered at Pearpaw's side, just far enough to stay out of Indigo's way, but just close enough to keep his good eye on his friend. Tallowheart whimpered in pain, shaking as the water splashed against his bruised chest, but Troutpool and Estherfern helped him on.
The brambles of the camp exit were somehow still in place, forming a tight tunnel with barely enough room to breach the water. Not for them, then. The rest of the brambles that typically lined the rock walls were gone, so that would be the group's way out. Yarrowclaw scaled the smallest of those rocks. Her brittle paws rubbed hard against the rain-slick boulders. Honeybuzz climbed up and over, splashing hard in the open waters beyond camp. One by one, the occupants of the medicine den helped one another over the wall and out of their flooded camp.
The beach was gone. It lurked under the belly-high floodwaters, claimed by the feral ocean. Still, the ocean could not claim everything. RippleClan gathered at the treeline, panting and shivering. They yowled the clerics' names, running back to the water to help their kin to shore.
"Pearpaw!" Icepaw bolted ahead of the adults, charging at his sister. "You were supposed to be behind me!" Icepaw dragged his sister out of the water. Scaleripple slipped behind him and helped Indigo limp into the safe confines of thick, rolling roots.
"Midnightpaw!" When the wounded black apprentice made it to the forest, Rattlepelt wrapped herself around him, shaking harder than anyone else. Further back, Yarrowclaw saw Brightreed nursing his bramble-torn pelt, blood dissolving in the heavy rain. Wildclaw sat hunched in on herself, Whiteflower and Shrewflame on either side. She was wailing.
Yarrowclaw could not see Valleypaw.
"Stormjump!" Honeybuzz yowled as Oilstar and Carnationspeckle met the survivors at the edge of the muddy grass. "Stormjump! Where are my sons?" Oh. Had Yarrowclaw not been in the mindset that she could fight the ocean and win, her stomach might have dropped. She had been focused on getting everyone she saw out, not checking who should have been there in the first place.
"They weren't in the medicine den?" Oilstar gulped, voice strained. Honeybuzz's pupils blew out wide. "Honeybuzz, I saw them, your kits were sleeping with you tonight, you wanted to watch over Stormjump's infection."
"I sent them back!" Honeybuzz shrieked. His cicada wing necklace, still clinging to his neck after all the chaos, whipped against his neck as he spun back toward the camp. "Stormjump felt better! They're in the nursery!"
The nursery… the nursery with a giant rock in front of it… the nursery Yarrowclaw didn't think to check.
[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Yarrowclaw stand in the rain. Yarrowclaw says, "Treat the injured. I can do it. I can get your family out. I can't die."]
It's fine. You're fine. You're you. You'll get them out. They'll be fine. You'll bring them back. They can't die if you don't let them. Just go back.
No! Yarrowclaw was mortal! She'd probably drown trying to save them! She couldn't get them alone! She could lead a patrol. Yes, that was it. She just needed help. The vision never suggested it was all on Yarrowclaw.
Honeybuzz ran for the water, but Yarrowclaw instinctively stepped in front of him.
"No," she growled. "Treat the injured. I can do it. I can get your family out. I can't die." Her spastic eyes stuck onto the nearest cat. "Carnationspeckle. You're a good swimmer. We have to get them." Yarrowclaw almost wanted Carnationspeckle to reject, to pull rank, to force Yarrowclaw to stay with the rest of the Clan while other cats, cats who knew when their bodies were tired, cats who could give up, took her place. But Carnationspeckle turned to her mate, fear raising her hackles. Oilstar nodded.
"Venturedapple, we need your strength," Carnationspeckle called into the grieving, shocked crowd. Venturedapple emerged tall, eyes hard and ready.
"They're my kits!" Honeybuzz yowled. He tried to skirt around Yarrowclaw, but Splashtuft, Drumtooth, and Leathermask (who had luckily woken up from whatever blow he'd sustained earlier) lunged at their brother. The littermates pulled Honeybuzz into the crowd by his scruff as the gold and white cleric screamed, "They need me!"
"You're barely standing!" Drumtooth snarled, pinning his brother into the muddy grass.
"Your kits don't need their father drowning tonight," Leathermask said. He smacked Honeybuzz's flailing paws down.
"They can't end up like Mom," Honeybuzz whined. His claws pulled up large chunks of grass.
"The others will get them," Splashtuft promised. Of course they would. No one around Yarrowclaw would die. Whether StarClan simply knew it to be true for the night or whether they blessed her, Yarrowclaw was the ship that could bring them back to shore.
Yarrowclaw left Honeybuzz pinned by his brothers and charged back into the water with Carnationspeckle and Venturedapple behind her. Water now flowed steadily over the tops of the rock wall. Carnationspeckle leaped over the camp walls and dove into the submerged clearing. Water flew up Yarrowclaw's nose as she followed. The rock she had seen earlier, rolled in front of the nursery by the impact of the first massive wave, still sat, trapping its occupants within.
"Stormjump!" Venturedapple called, floating into the barricading rock. "Kits! Can you hear us!"
"Venturedapple!" It was Morningkit! His voice slipped through the rain-filled cracks of the blockage. "Help!"
"Everyone on this side," Carnationspeckle barked, swimming around the den. Yarrowclaw waded after her. "Venturedapple, Yarrowclaw, you need to push this boulder as hard as you can. I'm going to dive and dig out the sand around the rock, make it easier to move. Now push!" Venturedapple positioned himself next to Yarrowclaw. His long fur floated in the churning water. Carnationspeckle breathed deep and shoved her head under. Yarrowclaw braced her front paws on the rock. Venturedapple copied her. Hind legs digging into the sand, shaking under the pressure of the moving floodwaters, they pushed.
Don't think about Carnationspeckle. She doesn't matter. She doesn't even need to dig. You don't need any of them to save the kits. You can move this boulder all by yourself. StarClan chose you for this. Your legs don't hurt. You can't feel pain. You don't get tired. This isn't a bad thing. This is the best thing that could happen. Push the rock. Save those kits.
"Be kind to yourself, Yarrowclaw."
Yarrowclaw yowled as the boulder finally, finally, rolled a mouse-length back. Yarrowclaw couldn't see inside. Carnationspeckle pulled her head out of the water, sand caught in her fur. Yarrowclaw's legs gave out as Carnationspeckle and Venturedapple hooked their paws through the opening. With one last shove, the rock tumbled out from the entrance of the nursery.
The nursery was almost flooded to the ceiling. The deep, safe confines that Yarrowclaw spent her earliest days were hidden in the flood. A dark ginger form floated by the ceiling like debris far at sea. Three tom-kits clung to Stormjump's back. Their claws drew blood from their beloved mother, but she kept their small heads above the rising water. Stormjump's face was… peaceful.
Yarrowclaw grabbed Beekit by the scruff. He looked eerily like his father; same golden head and tail, same blue eyes, same white torso. It made the night loop in Yarrowclaw's head as Carnationspeckle pulled Patchkit and Morningkit close. Venturedapple grabbed Stormjump's still scruff and pulled her body out of the nursery.
"Mom told us to hold on to her," Patchkit stammered. "We held on, but, but we hurt her!" Carnationspeckle lifted Patchkit onto Venturedapple's sturdy back. Morningkit climbed on top of Carnationspeckle
"Where's Dad?" Beekit cried, squirming in Yarrowclaw's chattering jaws.
"We're bringing you to him," Carnationspeckle promised, voice breaking. "Just stay on us. You did so well. Stormjump is so proud of you." With the kits balanced as high above the water as they could carry them, the three brown and white cats waded toward the watery rocks and the forest beyond.
This didn't make sense. No one around Yarrowclaw was supposed to die. Why wasn't Stormjump moving? This wasn't what the vision said!
A ship could still bring a body to shore, it seemed.
(Yarrowclaw: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Wildclaw: 92, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
The Witch Hunters find and kill Lemmy, leaving RippleClan in a strange state.
[Image ID: Darkkick, Terracottafoot, and Paleseed face Weevilsight. Paleseed says "Weevilsight?"]
Weevilsight nearly couldn't muster the energy for the Gathering. The last visit to StarClan's Shrine had been exhausting enough; Troutpool nearly cried when Trumpetspore didn't visit her dreams, and Weevilsight forgot her promise to Wolverineheart, to learn if Foampaw approved of her relationship with Mitespark, until just before the tortoiseshell cleric woke up. All the other clerics seemed forgiving of RippleClan's spaciness, yet Weevilsight dug her fangs into her lip and focused on her work. And part of that work was attending the Gathering.
Weevilsight and Honeybuzz were the only clerics accompanying the Clan to the Leader's Stone. Troutpool didn't want to face the official announcement of Trumpetspore's death, and Estherfern had to look after Gingerpaw, who somehow came up with the worst joke possible at Trumpetspore's vigil and was banned from the last winter Gathering. And thus, Weevilsight trailed within the middle of the RippleClan horde, following Downstar and Oilstripe along the SlugClan/WheatClan border. With Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver staying behind, Weevilsight found herself with a duo she rarely got to interact with.
"I don't care how old they get," Paleseed said, adjusting her feather decor as she walked, "Terracottafoot is always going to look like a tiny scared apprentice to me. I can't believe how much they've grown! It's been ages since we had a chance to sit down with them, hasn't it, Darkkick?"
"We talked with them at Harvest Moon," Darkkick scoffed, fluffing herself up against the cold night wind.
"That was five moons ago!" Paleseed pointed out. "Before all… that happened."
"I thought mediators weren't supposed to avoid sensitive topics," Darkkick hummed.
"I'm trying to be respectful," Paleseed said. Even though the gray mediator was on Darkkick's right, and Weevilsight walked on her left, Weevilsight still saw the strained glance Paleseed sent her way.
"Why mince words?" Weevilsight laughed, venom in her voice. "My mom killed our Clanmates, my dad died, my aunt killed herself. I'm sure Terracottafoot can offer you some comfort." Considering Darkkick's short stature, she and Paleseed looked like a stunned, two-headed beast in the moonlight, their gaits evenly matched as they bawked at Weevilsight.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told your friend after the Shardling incident," Darkkick eventually huffed. "You handled that as best you could."
"I know that, Darkkick," Weevilsight sighed, staring at the cloud-lined moon as she walked. "I'm just going to feel like foxdung for a while."
"And that's okay," Paleseed added with a decisive nod. "You do what you need to do to grieve and come to terms with it all. You can always talk to me."
"I think she needs a friend, not a mediator, Paleseed," Darkkick muttered.
"Both work," Weevilsight hummed as the Clan approached the rock wall leading up to the Leader's Stone. It was slick with snow, making RippleClan's approach a slow and methodical process. Rabbitjoy walked along the edge of the path up, guarding Frostpaw from a potential fall. Boughfur took Tallowheart's basket while the rock-footed tom inched up the wall. A clump of snow fell from the grass above and smacked onto Stormjump's head, earning a laugh from her mate. Weevilsight's paws felt lighter. It felt normal, for the first time all winter.
As usual, RippleClan was the last Clan to arrive. Ospreystar, Eelstar, Gentlestar, and Lettucestar waited on the Leader's Stone while their Clans waited for their cue to mingle and share tongues. Downstar climbed to the second-highest platform of the Leader's Stone while Oilstripe took her traditonal place among the other deputies. Weevilsight laid in the half-melted snow and stared lazily at the Leader's Stone. The sooner announcements were done, the better.
The winter had been hard on the other four Clans in more traditional ways. WheatClan lost an overeager apprentice in the cold and an elder to distemper. LynxClan reported on harsh conditions in their rocky territory and gave their neighbors an official plea for hunting assistance. SlugClan and AshClan were a bit quieter, reporting a new litter and a death each, but Weevilsight couldn't help but notice how Eelstar and Lettucestar glanced at Downstar as they spoke.
"Before you begin your report, Downstar," Ospreystar said just as Eelstar finished delivering his news, "I want to say something that I didn't get the chance to last moon, when you announced the death of Mosspounce." The brown-speckled leader stood taller and faced the five Clans. "I want to formally declare LynxClan's gratitude to Mosspounce of RippleClan for killing the cougar that nearly destroyed us moons ago. He delivered the fatal blow, and for that, we hope that his story is honored with the same respect as Cougarstrike, Celestial of Cougars. LynxClan will hold a place in our hearts for RippleClan's brave caretaker."
"Mosspounce! Mosspounce!" the LynxClan cats cheered. Weevilsight sat up. Her ears rang with the sound of her father's name. Some of Weevilsight's Clanmates took up the cheer as well; Carnationspeckle and Asterblaze were particularly vocal. Weevilsight stayed still, unconsciously holding her breath. Her father was a hero.
"Take it with a drop of mouse bile, Weevilsight," Darkkick warned as the cheers began to die down. "I'm sure they are grateful, but this wh ole show is likely planned to win Downstar's favor. I'm sure LynxClan will be asking us for something soon."
"Thank you, Ospreystar," Downstar purred. "It does an old soul good to know that my grandson's fatal wounds were obtained for a good cause. I'm afraid that isn't the end of RippleClan's recent string of loss, however." Downstar shifted and prepared herself for the news. Weevilsight sank back down. Paleseed dipped her head and closed her eyes. "I'm sure some of you have learned of this, whether through meetings at the border or at the historian's gathering hosted by SlugClan this new moon. However, I regret to inform you that Trumpetspore, my granddaughter, took her own life shortly after the last Gathering." Quiet, shocked gasps rippled through the clearing. Eyes pierced the RippleClan delegation. Weevilsight closed her eyes and pretended she was alone.
"I'm sorry, Downstar," Gentlestar gulped, placing a paw on Downstar's platform above her.
"We ask that you respect our privacy surrounding this event," Downstar continued, "and know that Trumpetspore did her best against what can be the worst enemy a warrior fights; their own heart." Mutters of agreement washed over Weevilsight. She prayed no one would pry her for information. "Outside of this loss, we have no Gathering-worthy news to report. I say we get on with the Gathering proper and try to enjoy ourselves tonight." The other leaders nodded along with Downstar's idea. With that, the Clans merged. A wave of friends from other Clans crashed into RippleClan, firing questions of concern and morbid curiosity. Weevilsight wasn't ready; Yellowburst bumped into her flank, knocking her into a WheatClan historian. Weevilsight stumbled back, one of her signature petals fluttering out of her pelt.
"Terracottafoot is over there!" Paleseed called, peering over the crowd. "This way!" Darkkick looped her tail around Weevilsight and gently nudged her toward Paleseed. Paleseed pierced the crowd, leaving a trail for Weevilsight and Darkkick to follow. Questions bounced off Paleseed's pelt. She deflected them with the skill of an expert mediator, offering polite, if not slightly dismissive, answers.
Terracottafoot, as was their habit, prepared a game of moss-ball to the side of the crowd. They set up small "dens", or overturned baskets, on either end of the massive play area and merged loose chunks of moss together. They scented the three RippleClan cats and turned to greet them. Weevilsight tried to imagine what Terracottafoot looked like as a "tiny scared apprentice". Sure, the AshClan cleric carried themself with a constant air of tension; they were always moving, whether through the twitch of their whiskers or the methodical wave of their tail. But they were mature, as well-muscled as a warrior and, much to Weevilsight's embarassment, as handsome as they came (oh how Honeybuzz teased her as an apprentice for that little crush).
"Hi, Paleseed," Terracottafoot chirped, touching noses with Paleseed. "StarClan, I'm happy to see you. I've wanted to say something about your sisters, but I didn't know what."
"I try to focus on the siblings I still have," Paleseed chuckled, licking her chest.
"Keeping out of trouble?" Darkkick hummed, staring Terracottafoot up and down.
"I do what I can," Terracottafoot said. They touched noses with the former AshClan cleric and turned to Weevilsight. "Cleric Weevilsight, you didn't tell me about Warrior Trumpetspore at the half-moon meeting. Is that why Cleric Troutpool was so upset?"
"We didn't want to make the meeting all about us," Weevilsight sighed. Her paw absently snagged Terracottafoot's moss-ball and rolled it under her paw.
"I'm sorry about that, regardless," Terracottafoot said. They glanced past the RippleClan cats and groaned, "Oh StarClan he's already telling Downstar." Weevilsight looked back. Eelstar spoke with Downstar on the Leader's Stone. Both seemed deeply serious.
"Telling her what?" Darkkick huffed.
"I'm not a storyteller," Terracottafoot gulped, "but there were these Witch Hunters at our border and they told us… uh… do you want their story or the summary?"
"Tell us what they told you," Paleseed suggested.
"Well," Terracottafoot groaned. They stared at Darkkick, gaze pointedly refusing to touch Weevilsight. "Apparently Lemmy showed up in the human settlement last moon. One of the Witch Hunters picked a fight with her, and, well, that Witch Hunter ended up dead. The Witch Hunters were really mad at that, I think the dead Witch Hunter just had kits and the humans took them away? I can't remember that part. But, um, the Witch Hunter General ordered them to find Lemmy, and they did… Lemmy's dead now." The words didn't quite reach Weevilsight's ears.
"Say that again?" Weevilsight said, rubbing her ears.
"The Witch Hunters killed Lemmy," Terracottafoot said. "I think their patrol thought we were RippleClan? We didn't get a chance to explain. They showed up a few days ago. I'm really sorry, Weevilsight." Weevilsight's claws pierced the moss-ball. The chatter of the Gathering clawed her ears. Her heart beat faster.
"Weevilsight?" Paleseed whispered. She reached a paw toward Weevilsight, but Darkkick pushed it down.
Lemmy's dead. Lemmy's dead. Lemmy's dead.
Mom's dead.
"Stars damn it!" Weevilsight yowled. She chucked the moss-ball as hard and as fast as she could. It smacked into the basket and sent it rolling toward the treeline. "I want to kill someone!"
"Weevilsight—" Paleseed and Terracottafoot both stammered.
"Shut up, both of you," Darkkick snapped, shoving her tail in front of the pair. "Let her be."
"She made mistakes!" Weevilsight groaned. "Stupid, awful mistakes, it got out of control!" She paced in a circle, as though trying to get comfortable in a nest. "She wasn't a monster! She wanted to keep me safe! They didn't have to kill her! StarClan, she never even knew Dad died! Why did this happen? Why did she have to kill Potterypool? I can't even decide if I love her or hate her! Augh!" Weevilsight sat in a huff, tail thrashing. She stared at the snowy ground, head spinning. Her jaw dug into her head so hard, she thought she'd break a tooth.
Paleseed crept past Darkkick and toward the rolling basket. She put a paw on the basket, stopping its retreat. She plucked the moss-ball from inside and stared at it. Her tail waved gently as she thought.
"Terracottafoot?" Paleseed asked. "Do you have any AshClan cats who'd like to play against RippleClan in a game of moss-ball?"
"I can ask around," Terracottafoot said hesistantly, still inching toward Weevilsight. "Shouldn't we help—"
"I don't need help, Terracottafoot," Weevilsight huffed at the ground, voice monotone.
"I seem to recall you being good with a moss-ball as a kit," Paleseed said. She tossed the moss-ball to Weevilsight. It rolled to a stop in front of her paws. "Want to put that rage of yours to good use? It would be an insult to Clan pride if we let AshClan beat us."
"Go get your Clan, kit," Darkkick scoffed. Terracottafoot cocked their head, but eventually sighed, chuckling at the same time. They jogged toward the larger crowd.
"For our players, I think we should recruit…" Paleseed hummed, studying the Gathering. "Boughfur, Stormjump, Yellowburst, Shrewflame, and Wolverineheart." Darkkick nodded along with Paleseed's assessment. "So, Weevilsight? Want to join?" Weevilsight gently snagged the moss-ball in her claws. She held it up to the light of the bonfire by the Leader's Stone. Did the color match Mosspounce's eyes? They had been so scarred at the end, Weevilsight almost couldn't remember…
"Let's kill these foxhearts," Weevilsight growled, tossing the moss-ball back to Paleseed.
"Metaphorically, though!" Paleseed chuckled awkwardly. "I'll go get the others." Paleseed passed the moss-ball to Darkkick and followed Terracottafoot's trail. Weevilsight sat next to Darkkick, unable to stop her thrashing tail.
"I'll help you hide the bodies," Darkkick chuckled.
A short time later, Weevilsight stood with her Clanmates in front of one of the baskets. Somehow, it seemed the whole group managed to escape the fog of grief imposed by Trumpetspore's death and laughed like kits as they prepared for the game. A gaggle of AshClan cats guarded the other basket across the clearing, throwing taunts toward the RippleClan cats. Paleseed and Terracottafoot stood in the middle, moss-ball sitting between them. A crowd of apprentices and warriors from the other Clans gathered to watch as they shared tongues.
"If it's been a while since any of you have played an organized game of moss-ball," Paleseed explained, "let us remind you. You are each on a patrol of seven cats, facing off against another patrol. Your job is to get the moss-ball past the enemy patrol and into their den, in this case the basket, to score points. No holding the moss-ball in your mouth, you have to catch it in your claws and toss it to your patrol members. If the other patrol has the moss-ball, you need to either make them drop it or grab it out of their paws, again, no teeth allowed. And no den guarding, you have to give the other patrol a chance to throw the moss-ball in. For this game, let's say… first to fifteen points wins. Any questions?"
"Do we have to be gentle with the cleric?" a dark red molly asked, nodding at Weevilsight.
"I won't be gentle with you," Weevilsight growled, ears tilted back. An excited bark of laughter and cheering rippled through the bystanders. The AshClan patrol laughed and yowled along with them.
"What about Darkkick?" asked a black and white tom, barely out of apprenticeship. "I feel bad fighting an elder."
"Darkkick fought Autumnstar, in the actual Dark Forest," Boughfur laughed, unweaving the blue flowers from her fur and placing them to the side of the game area. "I don't think you should be worried about hurting her, of all cats."
"Ready to run back to camp with your tails between your legs?" Shrewflame called, his tail high.
"I'm ready to feed you dirt, pretty kitty!" yowled the dark red molly.
"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" Shrewflame purred, wiggling his flank. "Why thank you!" Stormjump and Yellowburst laughed at Shrewflame, starting a wave of giggles across the crowd.
"Everyone go at my command!" Terracottafoot yowled, jogging out of the soon-to-be battlefield with Paleseed, leaving the moss-ball behind. All players shifted into battle poses. Weevilsight copied them as best she could. All eyes were on the moss-ball.
"Darkkick, stay in the back," Yellowburst whispered. "You can catch the moss-ball before it gets to the den."
"And miss out on clawing some AshClan fur?" Darkkick snapped in just such a way that Weevilsight couldn't tell if she was mad or teasing. "There's no chance of that."
As the pair argued, the AshClan patrol sparkled in Weevilsight's eyes. Ghostly doubles of the AshClan warriors launched toward the moss-ball. Sparkling premonitions of Weevilsight's Clanmates charged at the approaching patrol in return. Wolverineheart's future transparent form shoved into the dark red molly's shoulder. Her attack gave the black and white tom just enough time to slip around the charging enemy force and snatch the moss-ball in his claws. Weevilsight hadn't even seen that tom in the mass of cats yet-to-charge.
"Attack!" Terracottafoot cheered. Weevilsight's vision popped like seafoam. History repeated itself; the AshClan patrol ran at the moss-ball like stampeding horses. Wolverineheart led the RippleClan charge. No one noticed the black and white tom, running low against his taller Clanmates. He was invisible in the rush of fire-lit pelts. An afterimage of the tom's future position still flashed in Weevilsight's eyes.
Weevilsight lunged toward the empty space. Just as she neared it, just as she began to doubt her sight, there he was; the black and white tom, swooping past Wolverineheart to grab the moss-ball. Weevilsight smacked into him a whisker's length from the moss-ball. Weevilsight and the black and white tom tumbled back into the mass of swarming cats, each shocked at the other's appearance.
Stormjump rolled behind Weevilsight and snatched the moss-ball. She flicked her paw and sent the moss-ball soaring across the clearing. Shrewflame darted alongside the flying object. He jumped as though catching a bird mid-flight. Both front paws wrapped around the moss-ball.
Another premonition flashed within the mass of playful warriors. Shrewflame's ghostly paw launched a purple transparent moss-ball toward the AshClan den. A lilac and cream tortoiseshell streaked past her Clanmates and caught the moss-ball against her shoulder.
"Run with it, Shrewflame!" Weevilsight yowled as the black and white tom finally shoved her off. She fell onto her back, staring at the cloud-speckled night while the rest of the group hurried past her. All of the petals that clung to her pelt rubbed off in the snow and grass.
Weevilsight hurried back to her paws, only to see she was too late; the lilac and cream tortoiseshell stopped the moss-ball with her shoulder, just as predicted. But would Weevilsight let that go? Absolutely not. She had to sit by while her mother was exiled, while her father died, while her Clan suffered not under the claws of some Spirit of Shadow, something Weevilsight was born to fight, but mortals and the dangers of the everyday. She didn't have to let this go.
Weevilsight was not going to lose this game.
Weevilsight scrambled as the AshClan tortoiseshell tossed the moss-ball to the dark red molly. Darkkick thundered past Weevilsight, catching the eye of the dark red molly. Weevilsight yowled and sprung at the dark red molly. Weevilsight's sheathed paws batted the dark red molly's head. The dark red molly swung at Weevilsight, but the moss-ball slipped from her claws in the process. Darkkick swiped it from underneath the fighting mollies and batted it back toward the AshClan den. The dark red molly turned to follow, but Weevilsight shrieked and dragged the AshClan molly back by the tail. Her mouth burned with the taste of cat fur, that awful scent of combat that she still despised after so many moons, but the thoughtless rage bubbling in her throat forced her to remind herself, training grip, training grip, training grip.
A cheer ripped through the bystanders. Weevilsight let go of the dark red molly's tail. Boughfur had jumped into the AshClan den, moss-ball stuck to her claws. She looked like a rabbit crawling into a hole. Weevilsight laughed, but it was more like the cauterwaul of a rabid beast than anything funny.
"Clerics are mad," the dark red molly grumbled, hurrying back to her Clanmates.
Mad? Oh that was the right word for Weevilsight at the moment, as her patrol cheerfully regrouped by their den for the next round. Weevilsight was certain the actual grief would hit her when she got back to camp. But in that moment, with the freedom to run and scream and tackle and fight? Weevilsight could be as mad as she needed to be.
(Weevilsight: 27, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
[Image ID: Midnightkit and Valleykit face Carnationspeckle, both in trouble. Midnightkit says "Why didn't Rattlepelt come get me?" Under Midnightkit, it says + NEW SKILL: ALWAYS WANDERING. Under Valleykit, it says + NEW SKILL: AVID PLAY-FIGHTER.]
SlugClan attacks RippleClan in hopes of recovering Icekit and Pearkit for their newest members, Nimblestep and Quickkit.
[Image ID: Lettucestar, a white tom with a scar, and Lighttrail face Downstar, Wolverineheart, Wildclaw, Yarrowclaw, and Leathermask. Lettucestar says, "I'm sorry, Downstar, but I can't take no for an answer. Nimblestep is their mother, not Puddlewhisper." Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 1. Under Leathermask, it says LEVEL UP! NERVOUS → CONFIDENT.[
---
Downstar could tell it would be a late spring as she stepped out of her den on the last day of the year and into the thick, dry snow. It had snowed from one sunset and through another without stopping, leaving snowdrifts as tall as cats against the rocks and trees. It wasn't a bitter cold, though, like the one that plagued the Clans a few moons prior. This was a cold that energized Downstar's aching muscles and told the whole Clan to have a bit of fun!
The kits were certainly taking advantage of the heavy snowfall. Pearkit and Icekit dug at the snow like dogs while Midnightkit and Valleykit watched, wide-eyed. Stormjump groomed herself outside the warrior's den in a pale attempt to hide her watchful eye resting on the kits. The clerics cleared snow out from around the medicine den, but there was a shine to their eyes that brought a purr to Downstar's throat. Gingerpaw rambled to Weevilsight as the pair dug a path from the medicine den to the bonfire. Weevilsight laughed at one of Gingerpaw's silly faces, further easing Downstar's heart. If the recent heartbreak of the season could be forgotten, even for a moment, there was hope for RippleClan.
There was no hope of telling the time that day, save for the natural rhythm of day and night inside every cat. The sky was an endless silver expanse. Not a single cloud could be distinguished from another. It was as gray as a clear day's sky was blue. The unbroken bright light reflected off the snow stunned Downstar's eyes. Were it not for her nose, she might have bumped into Oilstripe, who trotted toward the leader's den.
"Good morning, Downstar," Oilstripe reported, ears perking up in front of her leader. "We have a few patrols out already. Vervaincough and Darkkick joined Billowhaze, Whitepaw, and Boughfur on an expedition to study the snow, but they promised to mark the southern border while they were there. Carnationspeckle, Tallowheart, and Drumtooth are fishing along the northern coast. Lastly, Rabbitjoy took Mitespark and Frostpaw to trade with WheatClan. They'll be gone the longest."
"Busy morning," Downstar hummed.
"Everyone wants to be out of camp today," Oilstripe sighed, stretching her front legs.
"I can manage the camp if you want to lead a patrol," Downstar said. She flicked her ears toward the camp exit. "This will likely be our last bit of snow until next winter."
"That's alright, Downstar," Oilstripe said a bit too quickly. "We have a lot to clear out of camp. I should manage that." Downstar grabbed Oilstripe's gaze and didn't let go. She studied her deputy's cyan eyes, so strangely blessed. Oilstripe's whiskers twitched uncomfortably, unable to view Downstar's thoughts as easily as she viewed hers.
"It's no good to have a distracted deputy," Downstar said. She sat in the curve of the Shiprock where the snow was thinner. "You're lingering around camp for another reason. Deputies should be open with their leaders."
"I can't tell if you're teasing me or reprimanding me," Oilstripe sighed. She sat next to Downstar, her focus drifting past her leader. The only sign of Downstar's hesistancy was the shift of her tail; she knew when she chose Oilstripe that she'd have to tolerate her ghost sight and the weird, almost blaphemous intrusion into the privacy of the visiting dead. She was good at that by now, and with a hard blink to wipe her mind, Downstar focused back on Oilstripe.
"It's about Rattlepelt," Oilstripe groaned. "I don't want to leave her alone." Downstar eyed the nursery. The snow's reflected light easily showed Rattlepelt and Wildclaw inside the den, still asleep. Wildclaw snuggled deep into Rattlepelt's fox pelt, and Rattlepelt shifted closer to her mate.
"I hope you remember you aren't the only other member of RippleClan," Downstar gently reminded her deputy. "There's always someone in camp."
"I'm not doubting anyone," Oilstripe said. She flexed her paw, poking tiny holes in the snow. The gentle motion gave her time to find her courage. "I'm scared for her, Downstar."
"Do you think she could harm herself?" Downstar asked. She regretted the question as soon as she said it. She never would have thought something like that a moon ago. But then again, a moon ago Downstar still had her granddaughter. Oilstripe caught her breath.
"No," she huffed. "No… but then again, I didn't think Trumpetspore could, either. I don't think I can truly judge what's in someone's heart."
"Blame is a weight I've borne for far too many circumstances outside of my control. Don't let it crush you."
"But don't I deserve some of the blame? We're leading this Clan, Downstar. When someone dies like this, what does it say about us? And what about Lemmy? Could we have stopped her?"
"You're rambling, Oilstripe." Downstar raised her tail to pause her deputy's spiraling thoughts. "I'm going to tell you something that it took me a long time to learn. If you did the best you could with what you knew, then blaming yourself is useless." Oilstripe breathed deep, nodding along with Downstar's advice.
"I'll try to remember that," Oilstripe sighed.
"So," Downstar huffed, getting up, "do you think Rattlepelt needs an extra eye on her?"
"I think she's struggling," Oilstripe said, picking her words carefully. "It's like what happened after the Shardling incident. I don't want this to hurt Rattlepelt's relationship with Wildclaw or their kits. Rattlepelt didn't even leave the nursery to check on Midnightkit yesterday." Yes, Downstar had noted that; out of the two mothers, Wildclaw was usually the one with an eye on Midnightkit and Valleykit as of late, and when she went on patrol, Midnightkit tried to follow. It hadn't been Downstar's place to comment on Rattlepelt's absence, but everyone noticed it.
"As the mother of your daughter-in-code rather than your leader," Downstar sighed, "don't worry about how Wildclaw feels. I'll take her out. Try not to worry. We'll help Rattlepelt as best we can." Downstar touched her nose to Oilstripe's head. Oilstripe gawked at the touch for a moment, eyes widening. She then purred and dipped her head. Her whole body softened. Downstar's work there was done; now onto her daughter.
Downstar left Oilstripe to her thoughts and entered the nursery. Her paws trapsing through the snow quickly woke Wildclaw. The scarred gray tabby lifted her head off her mate and yawned deeply. Her scar-lined tail swayed lazily.
"Wildclaw, I'm taking a sunrise patrol to mark our northwest borders," Downstar explained in a whisper. "I want you to come with. I'll even let you pick out who we bring."
"I'll be right there," Wildclaw grumbled, still yawning and blinking sleep from her eyes. She crawled over Rattlepelt, stretching her hind legs so high they nearly eclipsed her head. Rattlepelt shifted and threw a paw over her eyes. Wildclaw glanced back to her mate and whispered, "Rattlepelt, I'm going on patrol. The kits are playing outside. Do you need anything?"
"I can get it," Rattlepelt mumbled. She squirmed under her red pelt, but didn't get up. Downstar softly padded back out as Wildclaw whispered something else her aging ears could not catch.
Downstar trailed through camp, navigating around the kits' digging, and waited by the exit for her daughter. A few moments later, Wildclaw emerged from the nursery and jogged to the warrior's den, nodding to Stormjump as she passed. She seemed like the reckless young molly Downstar remembered from so many years ago, but there was a wisdom to her step and a thought in her eyes. Yes, Downstar did not need to worry about Wildclaw. The fierceness her named honored was truly something to respect now.
Some time later, Wildclaw joined Downstar at the exit with Wolverineheart, Yarrowclaw, and Leathermask. Downstar wasted no time leading the patrol into the cheerful winter. Wildclaw slipped beside her mother and pranced through the snow like a deer. Soft winds blew powdery snow off the trees, making it look like a second snowfall. The snow retained the memory of the wind in its swirling, smooth edges and gentle dance across the ground. The smell of Carnationspeckle's patrol drifted past, a soft reminder that they were never alone in RippleClan territory.
"You know who Midnightkit and Valleykit remind me of?" Downstar said as the patrol trekked through the forest. "You and Halibutdusk."
"Really?" Wildclaw huffed. "I don't see it."
"Midnightkit is going to be just as troublesome as you were, I'm certain of it," Downstar chuckled. "Valleykit has Halibutdusk's pensiveness."
"Valleykit just learned what birds are," Wildclaw laughed. "I think you might be insulting Halibutdusk there."
"They fit into our family, that's what I mean," Downstar hummed, studying Wildclaw's face. "You and Rattlepelt have done a good job so far. Just like you did with Shrewflame and Whitepaw. You'll all be alright in the end."
"I know, Mom," Wildclaw assured her. Her ears tilted back for a moment as she added, "I just need Rattlepelt to believe that."
"You've been through worse," Downstar reminded her. She stopped to rub an irritating itch on her back against a pine. "If you keep doing what you have been doing, it will work out."
"Downstar!" The whole patrol paused, ears high. Pale gray markings framed the green eyes of the tom who emerged from the depths of the forest. Lettucestar? His deputy, Lighttrail, walked alongside him, all thick ginger fur and confidence.
"Stop right there!" Wildclaw barked. She dove between Downstar and Lettucestar, lips curled tight and her body slithering like a rattlesnake ready to strike.
"This has to be a joke," Wolverineheart scoffed. "I get you're a Clan leader, but you can't just stroll into our territory without an escort!"
"Do you want to get attacked?" Yarrowclaw growled, showing off her fangs.
"Wait, wait," Downstar huffed. She pushed through her protective Clanmates, tail high to still their sudden fury. "Let me talk to him." Leathermask bristled, back arched high as Downstar approached the SlugClan leader. Wolverineheart and Yarrowclaw kept their claws out, but gave Downstar her room. Wildclaw stayed where she was, face curling in and out of battle rage.
"I know I'm intruding on your territory," Lettucestar huffed, keeping his tail low as a show of peace. "Waiting by the border would have been inappropriate. In a sad way, my purpose here isn't much different from the war patrol you brought to my camp almost a year ago." There was a mild venom in Lettucestar's voice that made Downstar's ears grow hot with old grief.
"Except Downstar's not losing her mind," Yarrowclaw grumbled.
"Yarrowclaw, you will not disrespect Gorgestar's memory in front of me," Downstar suddenly growled, turning on the brown and white molly. Yarrowclaw stiffened under Downstar's amber glare. "He was a good leader and my friend. You of all cats should know better than to make a joke of something like that." Yarrowclaw stared down, unmoving under Downstar's assault. Downstar bit back a hiss of frusteration; why in the world did Yarrowclaw have to make a comment like that? Now Downstar seemed like a weak leader! She would handle Yarrowclaw's coldness later; she had intruders to manage.
"It's once again an issue of miscommunication," Lettucestar sighed. "Lighttrail, you're the better storyteller of the two of us. Explain the situation to Downstar and her warriors." Lighttrail stepped forward, clearing his throat. He looked like a kit in Downstar's eyes. Then again, at Downstar's age, most cats looked like kits.
"Recently, SlugClan encounter a loner queen and her kit by the river," Lighttrail said. "The kit was sick with feather-head, so we offered to provide treatment. The queen grew to trust us, and the pair decided to join SlugClan. They are now known as Nimblestep and Quickkit, though you would have known the queen as simply Nimble." Nimble. So much had happened that winter, Downstar almost forgot that Puddlewhisper was not Pearkit and Icekit's birth mother.
"Wait," Leathermask grunted. "Nimble joined SlugClan? No, she hates the Clans."
"Her mate hated the Clans," Lighttrail said with the patience of a mentor with their apprentice. Downstar couldn't stop her jaw from tightening at the tone. "Nimblestep supported and followed Achilles, but once she understood we only wanted to help Quickkit, she learned to trust us."
"It's not like we didn't try to do that!" Wolverineheart whined. "She wouldn't listen to us!"
"Your Clanmates murdered Achilles in cold blood," Lighttrail scoffed, twitching his whiskers. "Would you listen to yourselves?"
"No more comments, all of you," Downstar hissed, thrashing her tail. This was no time to be debating the details.
"She told us about her other kits, Downstar," Lettucestar finally sighed. "A silver tom and a pale ginger molly. They're Icekit and Pearkit, aren't they?" Wildclaw paced behind Downstar. Her jaw twitched with unspoken words. Her paws crunched heavily into the snow, turning it to slush.
"They are," Downstar admitted. "Nimble ran—Nimblestep ran from our patrol, but only took a brown kit. Quickkit, I assume. She abandoned the rest of her litter."
"A mistake she wants to correct," Lettucestar said, stepping closer to Downstar. "We're here to take Icekit and Pearkit back to their mother."
"Take?" Downstar and Wildclaw yowled in unison. Lighttrail unseathed his claws and crouched into a battle stance. Lettucestar hovered his tail over his deputy's shoulder. Downstar steadied her breath and grounded her paws flat, letting the cold sap her sudden anger.
"Lettucestar, Icekit and Pearkit are RippleClan cats now," Downstar said slowly. "All they've known is RippleClan. Puddlewhisper is raising them. Taking them would be cruel. Nimblestep abandoned them to what she thought would be their deaths. How can we trust she has their best intentions at heart?"
"She's a SlugClan warrior now," Lettucestar said, his words just as slow and restrained as Downstar's tone. "We will help her raise the kits, just as I'm sure your caretakers help Puddlewhisper."
"I'm happy to discuss Nimblestep visiting our camp," Downstar huffed. "If she wants a relationship with Icekit and Pearkit, I don't want to deny her that. But simply taking them? They aren't prey. Do you think they'd ever be loyal to SlugClan if you forced them from their home?" Lettucestar sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and pulled his tail away from Lighttrail. His claws peeked out of his paws. The RippleClan patrol slunk closer to Downstar.
"Warriors!" Lettucestar yowled. The snow behind Lettucestar shifted. Pelts peeked out from the white and gray terrain, shoving off snowy coverings and emerging from behind trees and rocks. The RippleClan patrol hissed and snarled. There was an entire war patrol of SlugClan cats, hiding just fox-lengths away! The SlugClan warriors glistened with snow melting into their fur. Narrow eyes bore into Downstar, ready to tear and bite.
"I'm sorry, Downstar," Lettucestar sighed, shifting into a battle stance, "but I can't take no for an answer. Nimblestep is their mother, not Puddlewhisper. You can't claim her kits. I wanted us to agree on this, but if you won't take us to your camp, we'll just go through you."
"Yarrowclaw, warn camp, now!" Downstar yowled. Yarrowclaw leaped over Leathermask and skidded across the snow. She raced like a rabbit along the patrol's snowy prints, tail weaving between the trees.
"Don't let her get reinforcements!" Lettucestar ordered. Half of the SlugClan patrol bolted after Yarrowclaw, stomping and kicking their way through the snow. Leathermask yowled and launched himself into a lilac tortie, the war-hungry Carvingfur. The pair rolled back behind an ancient pine.
"Wolverineheart, help Yarrowclaw!" Downstar ordered as Lighttrail lunged for her. "We'll hold them back!" Wolverineheart ran after Yarrowclaw's hunters as Lighttrail smacked Downstar into the snow. Downstar raked her claws along Lighttrail's white chest. Blood immediately dripped from his pelt onto Downstar's face.
Lighttrail stumbled off, shrieking, as the rest of the patrol converged on Downstar and Wildclaw. There were three or four SlugClan warriors for each remaining RippleClan cat. At least Lighttrail wouldn't be a problem; he stumbled against a pine trunk and pressed his bleeding wounds into the snow.
"I'd like to see you take me, foxhearts!" Wildclaw cried. She hooked her claws into Carvingfur as she and Leathermask rolled back into the crowd. Wildclaw ripped Carvingfur off Leathermask and dug her teeth into the tortoiseshell's soft ear.
Sharp claws slashed Downstar's ankle. She tumbled forward into a black molly. A cream-colored tom pounced on Downstar's back. His claws tore into her ginger patches. Blinding pain ripped through Downstar's blood.
Lettucestar crouched by Lighttrail as the SlugClan warriors beat Downstar into the ground. The leader and deputy whispered to one another, mute under the screech of battle. With a decisive nod from Lighttrail, Lettucestar hurried past the fight toward the unseen coastline and RippleClan's camp.
Leathermask and Wildclaw fought back to back against Carvingfur and the other SlugClan warriors. They spun to face every blow. Nicks and scratches riddled their faces. Neither could get to Downstar.
The black molly and the cream-colored tom stepped off Downstar, blood staining their paws. Downstar's ears rang. She stared into the now pink snow. Her legs shook. The pain coursed through her back and toward her paws. Downstar couldn't get up. She couldn't help her daughter. Yarrowclaw and Wolverineheart had to get to camp. They had to protect the kits. That was what mattered.
A brown and white mass of long fur flew past Downstar's blurry vision. The figure landed on Carvingfur just before the tortoiseshell could claw at Leathermask's eyes. Carnationspeckle! Her hunting patrol! Drumtooth and Tallowheart dove into the fight behind their patrol leader. Tallowheart pulled Wildclaw and Leathermask out of the mess. Drumtooth whipped around the SlugClan warriors like a fish. He'd land one blow, then kick back at a sneaky warrior.
"They're going for camp," Wildclaw yowled over the ringing in Downstar's ears.
"Yarrowclaw got there first," Tallowheart gulped. The fighting in front of Downstar blurred. Downstar rested her chin on the cold, stained snow.
"Mom!"
It took a while for Downstar to die. From what she could tell, she drifted in a melting mass of dreams and noise until her strength finally left her. She couldn't tell how much time had passed, and could barely hold on to a single thought. The sounds of the battle rose and fell. They blended into orders and questions, making the line between war and peace impossible to see. Were the clerics there? They should focus on the camp. SlugClan would not have those kits!
Summer warmth licked Downstar's pelt. That oh-so-familiar ocean hum replaced the ringing in her ears. Her back no longer burned. Downstar rubbed her cheek on the sand. Oh Downstar had missed the summer. RippleClan needed that light and warmth once more.
StarClan's coastline was the same as ever; mountains far behind the forest, pure salty water nuzzling the shore. Sunhigh glistened at the top of the sky, honey-bright and as welcome as a warm nest at the end of a cold night. Now Downstar didn't want to get up at all. For now, she could breathe.
Yet who would greet her this time? She was never alone on that lovely beach. Locustseeker, Duskkit, Fennelspot, Rustshade, Scrubmask… someone always had a kind word to say. Who would be there this time? Maybe Downstar had to go find them.
Despite the tempting warmth of the sand, Downstar got to her paws. She stood quicker than she expected. Old age didn't plague her in the strange land of Silverpelt. Downstar scanned the shore. Down the coast, paws dipping into the slowly rising tide, a black tabby sat, waiting. Downstar's granddaughter was unmistakeable, even with the newly gained glimmer in her pelt.
"I shouldn't be surprised it's you," Downstar called. Trumpetspore turned at her grandmother's voice. Her ears pressed backward. She snapped her eyes down.
Downstar strolled down the beach. Her heartbeat matched the gentle pull of the waves. She slowed the closer she got to Trumpetspore. Trumpetspore's head dipped lower and lower.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm sorry, Downstar. I should have talked to you. I missed them so much, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt anyone."
"Oh, Trumpet," Downstar cooed. She placed her chin on Trumpetspore's warm head. She wrapped herself around Trumpetspore as the ageless black warrior shook. The hum of the ethereal ocean hid Trumpetspore's whimpers.
"I should have hung on," Trumpetspore whined.
"I know, I know," Downstar whispered. "It'll be alright now. I know, you're sorry."
Downstar wasn't sure how long she sat with her granddaughter. Those visits to StarClan rarely aligned with time in the living world, after all. Downstar just let the salt water soak her flank as she offered Trumpetspore a familiar shoulder.
"There are things I need to say," Trumpetspore eventually croaked, "before you go back." The pair pulled away, leaving imprints of each other in their pelts.
"I understand," Downstar sighed. "Tell me first, though. Did Lettucestar take the kits?"
"No," Trumpetspore said, clearing her throat. There was a shift in her starry eyes, a soft dance of light cascading across her glittering pelt. Her gaze drifted to something Downstar could not see. "Puddlewhisper hid them in the medicine den when Yarrowclaw got to camp. She pretended they were in the nursery until Lettucestar's patrol had to retreat."
"As clever as her mother," Downstar purred. Good, the kits were safe. For now, at least.
"Happier moons are ahead," Trumpetspore promised as her focus returned to Downstar. She stiffened and glanced down as she added, "If I had known that earlier…" Downstar had no comforting words for that. Trumpetspore breathed deep and stood taller.
"You're on your last life, Downstar," Trumpetspore said. Her voice gained the sort of regal, knowing tone Downstar had grown used to hearing from StarClan cats. "The next time you wake up on these shores, you will not return to RippleClan."
"I understand," Downstar said. She could feel her body pulling her down. The weight of her many moons flowed back through her muscles. She laid on the sand, which now felt more like moss and leather. Downstar's body was likely in the medicine den. "One thing before I wake up. Can you pass a message to Shadowdrop and your siblings?"
"Anything," Trumpetspore gulped. Downstar purred at the light in Trumpetspore's eyes.
"Tell them I love them."
(Downstar: 151, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)
Carnationspeckle and Wildclaw fish together and work through their grief over Downstar.
[Image ID: Carnationspeckle and Wildclaw sit along the water, with - CONDITION: GRIEVING underneath them both. Carnationspeckle says, "It's a new era for us."]
(Wildclaw: 89, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
Yarrowclaw heals from her mangled leg with a small scar. As she returns to patrols, however, Estherfern and Gingerpaw ask to speak to her about a vision.
[Image ID: Gingerpaw brings Yarrowclaw to Estherfern, saying, "I brought her, just like you asked." Yarrowclaw now has a scar along her back ankle, with - CONDITION: MANGLED LEG written under her. Under Estherfern, it says + GUIDANCE FROM STARCLAN: THE SHIP OF YARROW (VISION)]
---
If Yarrowclaw wanted to avoid hallucinating her long dead brother and convincing herself she was StarClan's invulnerable warrior, she needed a routine.
Sandhollow helped her craft the routine shortly after the horse path incident. A patrol at sunhigh and sunset every day, without fail. A hearty serving at each meal. A strict sleep schedule. Talks with Sandhollow or another mediator every half moon, just to check in. All of those little details added up to maintain balance over Yarrowclaw's mind. Yet for moons, Yarrowclaw had been unable to follow that routine, because LynxClan decided to be mouse-brains and kill Downstar over a bunch of crabs.
Getting Honeybuzz's approval to go back on patrol was one of the best things to happen in Yarrowclaw's life. Sure, the wound across her back ankle scarred, a permanent reminder of how a small cut on the right spot could kill a warrior. But now Yarrowclaw could act on the burning in her blood and help her Clan. She could also get away from her brother's flirting in the medicine den. Good for Anchovystrike, finally winning Weevilsight over, but bleh, did they have to make comments like that in front of Yarrowclaw?
As a blistering sunhigh crawled over RippleClan, Yarrowclaw led a hunting patrol through the bramble-lined entrance. A basket, heavy with mice and rats, hung on Yarrowclaw's neck. The warm scent of dough mixed with the bloody fresh-kill under Yarrowclaw's muzzle and made her mouth water. She quickly placed the basket beside the fresh-kill pile and let Rapidleaf, Whiteflower, and Pearpaw (the other members of the patrol) sort their catches. Yarrowclaw jogged up to the oven, where Asterblaze and Shrewflame carefully watched as Icepaw shuffled a large flat rock out from above the fire. Flat chunks of golden bread sat on the rock, steam rising from their hard surfaces.
"When did we get flour?" Yarrowclaw asked, sniffing the hot bread as Icepaw let go of the large stick that allowed cats to slide the stone slab in and out of the oven, just for special meals like this.
"We traded some of our clams and seaweed with WheatClan," Asterblaze explained. "We're going to pour mincemeat over the bread. Stormjump and the elders get the first pieces, but then it goes to whoever asks first." Yarrowclaw eyed the glistening bread. Biting into it once the juice from the mincemeat soaked through? It would be glorious.
"This needs to cool," Shrewflame said, gently nosing a piece of bread, "but when it's done, you can take some."
"We're the ones making the bread, we should get a piece," Icepaw huffed. His tail brushed against the hot stone. He hissed and jumped back.
"We'll see, Icepaw," Shrewflame chuckled as Icepaw rapidly licked his burnt tail.
"Yarrowclaw!" Gingerpaw trotted out of the medicine den, maple seed necklace swinging across his chest. He squinted in the harsh, cloudless light.
"Gingerpaw, do you want some bread?" Icepaw asked. "Wait, it is still Gingerpaw, isn't it?" Oh, right! The half-moon meeting had been the night before.
"Oh, that's not true!" Shrewflame huffed. "You're just chatty! If everyone was held back for being chatty, I'd still be an apprentice." Icepaw and Asterblaze both laughed at that.
"I need Yarrowclaw," Gingerpaw sighed. "Can you come with me?" Back to the medicine den? Yarrowclaw just got out of there! Still, Gingerpaw wouldn't call for Yarrowclaw without reason. But the food…
Yarrowclaw forced herself away from the oven and joined Gingerpaw. Her pelt itched in the heat as the medicine den drew closer. Weevilsight, Honeybuzz, and Troutpool were by the cleric's oven, preparing their concoctions. Yarrowclaw's curiousity peeked over her hesitancy, but only for a moment.
Estherfern waited inside the medicine den, laid out in her nest. Her sunlit eyes studied Yarrowclaw with the same detached, all-knowing gaze Yarrowclaw grew up with. Yarrowclaw's nest was still there, still stinking of healing wounds.
"I brought her, just like you asked," Gingerpaw sighed. He stalked past Estherfern and crawled into his nest.
"You're going to participate, Gingerpaw," Estherfern huffed, spinning back and nipping Gingerpaw's foot. "This is a cleric's most important job. You can nap later." Gingerpaw grumbled unintelligibly but shuffled closer.
"What do you need from me, Estherfern?" Yarrowclaw asked, taking an awkward seat in front of the old cleric.
"I need to talk to you about something I saw at StarClan's Shrine," Estherfern explained carefully. "I believe it strongly relates to you." Now that was a dangerous thing to tell a cat like Yarrowclaw. She buried her tension deep. "When I dreamed at the Shrine last night, I received a visit from your mother. She provided me with a vision." Harvest… Yarrowclaw struggled to remember her face at times. Did her spirit visit the camp? What did she think of Yarrowclaw and her brothers?
"She showed us both the vision, technically," Gingerpaw chuckled. Estherfern smacked his muzzle with her tail.
"In this vision," Estherfern said, "I stood on a water-washed rock in the middle of the ocean. A violent storm raged around me. The waves nearly pushed me into the water. Yet as the storm grew more violent, something began to grow under my paws. A mass of vines and leaves stretched underneath me. It lifted me from the rock and above the chaos of the waves. It was a ship, just like this ship we now live in, back when the humans sent it to sea. But the ship was not made of wood. Growing between the plant matter were masses of white flowers. Yarrow flowers. The ship was built from the stems and leaves of impossibly strong yarrow. It carried me through the storm until land appeared on the horizon. Now I've grown familiar with how StarClan shares information through metaphor and symbolism. This ship of yarrow is a clear message. You were that ship, Yarrowclaw."
"No," Yarrowclaw immediately huffed. "No, no, I can't be involved in a prophecy." She hurried to her paws. Her muscles ached from restraining the storm inside.
"It's not something you have a choice about, Yarrowclaw," Estherfern sighed.
"StarClan can't pick me," Yarrowclaw snapped. "If they pick me, it will prove I'm right, and I'll get myself killed." Gingerpaw cocked his head at Yarrowclaw's odd phrasing, but Yarrowclaw barely noticed.
"Something's coming to RippleClan," Estherfern said, getting up. "You will be a sanctuary, a savior. You are destined to weather the storm, whatever it be."
"And you had to tell me that?" Yarrowclaw groaned. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
"It's not really what you're going to do," Gingerpaw explained awkwardly. "It's more what we're going to do about you. We wanted to let you know that we're going to talk to Oilstar about your duties. If you're a ship in this story, then whoever is on you, or I guess near you, should be safe from whatever's coming. So—"
"I'm not staying in camp," Yarrowclaw hissed, no longer afraid to hide her widening eyes and curling lips. "I can't stay in camp."
"You aren't trapped here," Estherfern grunted with a dismissive twitch of her whiskers. "But keeping you close to as many cats as possible could save lives."
"You don't even know what's going to happen!" Yarrowclaw yowled. "I—no, I can't have this conversation." She turned out of the den.
"Where are you going?" Estherfern snapped as Gingerpaw slunk back to his nest. "We need to talk to Oilstar."
"It's none of your concern!" Yarrowclaw growled, stepping back into the sun. Curious glances passed her way as she marched to the warrior's den. Hopefully Sandhollow would be inside. She needed someone sane to talk to.
You're special. You're chosen. Of course you're chosen. You can save them. You can save them all. You'll need to train, you have to be able to fight off what's coming, but what if it's not a fox or bear or wolf, what if its nature? You should go to StarClan's Shrine, you need to know more, go right now go go go go go—
No! Yarrowclaw growled at herself as she entered the warrior's den. Half the Clan was sleeping through the hot midday, relaxed in their nests and on top of one another. Yarrowclaw jumped into her nest, even though she knew she wouldn't sleep.
She couldn't be special. For her own sake, she could not be special. She wouldn't allow it.
(Yarrowclaw: 32, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Asterblaze: 44, male, caretaker, thoughtful, inventor and innovator)
(Shrewflame: 21, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)
(Estherfern: 131, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
Sandhollow wonders if he is destined for something greater as his sister gives birth to three kits.
[Image ID: Sandhollow and Yellowburst approach Stormjump and her three newborns from the distance, with Yellowburst calling, "Hurry, we have to meet them!" Under Stormjump, it says - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. The first kit looks just like Honeybuzz, and under him, it reads NEW PLAYER: BEEKIT, 0, MALE, NOISY. The next kit is white with ginger patches. Under him, it says NEW PLAYER: PATCHKIT, 0, MALE, CHARMING. The last kit is golden with a blanket of tinted white across his forehead and back. Under him, it reads NEW PLAYER: MORNINGKIT, 0, MALE, BOSSY.]
Midnightpaw is apprenticed to Anchovystrike while Valleypaw gets to learn under Asterblaze to harness his excitement to fight. Before they head out, though, Wildclaw and Rattlepelt apologize for any neglect they may have felt in the nursery as they both fought their grief.
[Image ID: Rattlepelt and Wildclaw talk to Midnightpaw and Valleypaw, now apprentices. Under Midnightpaw, it says LEVEL UP! MIDNIGHTKIT → MIDNIGHTPAW, POLITE → OBLIVIOUS. Under Valleypaw, it says LEVEL UP! VALLEYKIT → VALLEYPAW, QUIET → STRICT. Rattlepelt says, "We just… don't want you to think we weren't utterly in love with you." Under her, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]
(Wildclaw: 89, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
Icepaw and Pearpaw meet their long-lost kin at the Gathering.
[Image ID: Icepaw and Pearpaw meet Nimblestep and Quickpaw, the latter of whom is now an apprentice. Pearpaw says, "So… how do we do this?"]
---
For a few days, Icepaw wasn't sure he would make it to his first Gathering. He'd been stuck in the medicine den, his head screaming to shut out the light and noise. Shrewflame did his best to continue his lessons, giving him the same overview of herbs that mediator and caretaker apprentices were expected to learn, but he couldn't join Shrewflame on patrol. He couldn't spar with Pearpaw and Dovepaw. All he could do was think about what his mother and sister would look like as the full moon drew closer and closer.
Yet, by the grace of StarClan or whatever Celestial watched over headaches, Icepaw still made it. He still got to walk alongside his fellow apprentices near the back of the crowd as they made their way to the Leader's Stone. The full moon glistened in the hot, cloudless night. Oilstar and Wildclaw proudly led the way, each eagerly discussing how to share their goods with the other four Clans. Baskets heavy with offerings from the sea dangled off warriors' necks. Pearpaw in particular had a basket of seashells, perfect for decoration. The seashells jingled together as Pearpaw walked alongside Icepaw and the pair listened to Dovepaw's rambling.
"Wolverineheart promised I could meet her friend Deerswipe tonight!" Dovepaw chirped, bouncing around the apprentices. "She's half-blind too. They spar together all the time! And now that SlugClan's not mad at us, Wolverineheart said she and Deerswipe can show me some tricks!"
"Was she part of the raid?" Icepaw muttered, unable to stop his hackles from rising.
"What raid?" Midnightpaw asked from behind the older apprentices. Valleypaw, who walked alongside his brother, kicked at Midnightpaw's feet.
"You know what raid!" Valleypaw huffed.
"No, because there's been two," Midnightpaw chirped innocently, stumbling back into a steady pace. "There was SlugClan breaching camp, and then there was LynxClan stealing our crabs."
"We're talking about a SlugClan warrior," Valleypaw groaned, rolling his eyes. "Why would we talk about LynxClan?"
"Midnightpaw's fine, Valley," Pearpaw huffed, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter if Deerswipe was part of that attack or not. We listen to our leaders, and we talk through what happened at the Gathering. That's what Clan life is like."
Icepaw relaxed at his sister's wise words, but something twisted in his chest. Yes, that was what Clan life was like. Yet none of them were technically ever meant to live that life. Dovepaw chose it, sure, but the other apprentices were less than a moon old when their mothers found them. They only had theories as to what happened with Midnightpaw and Valleypaw's birth mother. And for Icepaw and Pearpaw… well, their fate was decided for them before they were even born, by two mollies Icepaw never met. He could only hear secondary tales of Lemmy's motivations, and wonder why Potterypool agreed to murder his father. At least she felt bad about it afterward. Yet that did not stop the twisting in Icepaw's chest.
He recognized the great cliffside leading up to the Leader's Stone from Puddlewhisper's stories. He could see glimpses of the great bonfire through the distant shrubs. The hushed purrs of countless cats filled his ears. Oilstar and Wildclaw were already up and over by the time Icepaw and the other apprentices got close. Just before Icepaw could follow the rest of his Clan up, however, Scaleripple stepped in front of him.
"A few rules before you go up," Scaleripple said, his blue-feathered tail high. "Stay with us while the leaders give their announcements. We can socialize when they're done. Stay in the clearing. Be smart about what you share."
"Wolverineheart told me all that," Dovepaw huffed, cocking his head. "Why are you? You aren't our mentor."
"I'm a teacher now," Scaleripple said with a hint of pride in his purr. "I help apprentices. That's my job."
"Don't be rude, Dovepaw," Valleypaw huffed, gently smacking Dovepaw's side.
"I wasn't being rude, I was asking a question," Dovepaw said, earnest in his naivity.
"Let's go," Pearpaw said, weaving around Scaleripple and up the cliffside path. Icepaw was right on his sister's tail, heart racing as the voices above grew louder and louder.
It wasn't the size of the crowd that stunned Icepaw. He knew to expect more cats than he could count, with caretakers uncovering hidden cookware and constructing makeshift ovens and stoves. He knew each of the four leaders already on the Leader's Stone, from top to bottom: Eelstar, Gentlestar, Ospreystar, and Lettucestar. No, as Icepaw stared out across the crowd, he saw one cat in particular, sitting at the front of their Clan. It was a brown rosette covered tabby whose blue eyes caught in the firelight. She was thin, yet nimble in frame, sitting tall and tense, staring at the Leader's Stone. Icepaw couldn't explain how he knew with such certainty, but he knew. That was Nimblestep. That was his mother.
"Icepaw, let's sit near the front!" Midnightpaw called, charging past Icepaw. Icepaw stumbled forward, and the rest of his Clan pulled him through the crowd. By the times he got his bearings, he was close to the front of RippleClan, sitting beside Midnightpaw, Dovepaw, and Pearpaw, sans basket. Valleypaw lurked further into the crowd by Asterblaze. Icepaw searched for Nimblestep once more. Nimblestep's eyes sweeped RippleClan. She was looking for her kits.
"I want to give my Clan plenty of time to celebrate tonight," Oilstar called as she found her place on the bottom of the Leader's Stone. "Let's go through this moon's news quickly."
Icepaw struggled to focus as the other leaders gave their reports. Icepaw knew he should pay attention, Shrewflame would probably ask him questions later. But how could he pay attention when Nimblestep was so close by? Icepaw could barely sit still. Nimblestep was right there. He knew she would be, but to see her so soon, so suddenly…
The five Clans melted together faster than Icepaw expected. He hadn't even realized the leaders had finished delivering their news. Had the Clans cheered his name somewhere in all that noise? He couldn't tell.
"Icepaw." Oh thank StarClan, Paleseed was there. The gray speckled mediator brushed against her nephew, with Pearpaw lingering beside her. "Your birth mother is here. Do you want to meet her?"
"I already see her," Icepaw said as the SlugClan party merged with the rest of the Clans. Nimblestep swerved between cats, deftly navigating the chaotic reunions toward her own chaotic reunion. Her tail inched upward, ever hopeful. In Icepaw's eye, flashes of Puddlewhisper's blood still stained Nimblestep's mouth.
"I can stay with you while you meet her," Paleseed promised softly.
"No thank you," Pearpaw gulped. "I—We want to meet her alone." No! There was no "we" in that decision! Icepaw shook his head rapidly, but Paleseed merely touched noses with Pearpaw and dissolved into the crowd. She was gone before Icepaw could choke out a word.
"Pearpaw!" Icepaw whined.
"We shouldn't have someone else minding us for this," Pearpaw whispered as Nimblestep drew closer. "Nimblestep's our mother." Some mother, Icepaw thought.
"Is it you?" Nimblestep croaked as the crowd began to part and find places to share tongues. "Icepaw? Pearpaw?" Her voice quivered.
"Hi, Nimblestep," Pearpaw gulped. Icepaw didn't know whether to puff himself up and stand in front of his sister or allow his sister to take the lead. He stayed right next to Pearpaw, taking in Nimblestep's features. Pearpaw looked nothing like Nimblestep; the former was round and a bit short, while Nimblestep was tall and thin. Did Icepaw have his mother's angular face? Or did his features align more with his long-lost father?
"You're really here," Nimblestep purred. Her whiskers suddenly danced over Icepaw's pelt as she sniffed her lost son. Flashes of an event Icepaw could never have remembered overwhelmed his senses; teeth slipping off of his pelt, wood smacking into his skull, forever damaging the brain within. Icepaw's head throbbed in response.
"Hold on," Icepaw stammered, dancing away from Nimblestep. "Shouldn't Quickpaw be here?" Pearpaw's blue eyes (the only thing she shared with her birth mother) glistened at the thought of her unknown sister. Nimblestep's eyes glowed too.
"She's just with her mentor," Nimblestep eagerly explained. "She's going to be a mediator. This way, hurry." Nimblestep jogged through the crowd, but kept pausing to make sure Icepaw and Pearpaw were behind her. Both apprentices followed their birth mother, eyeing each other as they went.
Quickpaw sat with an older black tom among a gaggle of mediators from across the five Clans. Sandhollow and Slushtrail sat in their number, close to the young apprentice. Quickpaw looked exactly like Nimblestep. They shared the same brown fur and black markings. She had the spots to fill Nimblestep's rosettes. She was just as thin and clearly taller than Icepaw and Pearpaw. Yet her eyes were a rich dark brown, moving away from the family's pattern of blue.
When Quickpaw spotted her family through the crowd, she said something quickly to her mentor, who caught Nimblestep's eye. When Quickpaw's mentor nodded, the young brown molly bounded through her fellow mediators and straight to Nimblestep's side. Nimblestep nuzzled her daughter, purring deep. Quickpaw returned the gesture, stretching her head high to rub against her mother. Icepaw felt ill.
"You made it," Quickpaw gasped, oggling Icepaw and Pearpaw. She took in every detail of her littermates' pelts, but Icepaw could only look at Nimblestep. Her eyes shouldn't have been so relaxed, her pupils slit and calm. That was the look Puddlewhisper had when Icepaw became an apprentice. That was a mother's look.
Nimblestep did not deserve a mother's look.
"So…" Pearpaw gulped, "how do we do this?"
"I want to talk to Quickpaw," Icepaw blurted, louder than he intended. "Just Quickpaw. Uh, and Pearpaw too, I mean. Not Nimblestep. Later. Just… over here!" Icepaw spotted an empty spot on the far side of the clearing, beyond the Leader's Stone. Icepaw's claws dug up grass as he ran through the crowd. Whatever cries of shock his family gave, the sound of the Gathering covered it up.
Icepaw skidded to a stop beyond the chaos of the five Clans. When he glanced back, his racing heart eased. Pearpaw and Quickpaw were on their way. Nimblestep was lost within the crowd.
"What are you doing?" Pearpaw gasped as she and her lost sister neared their brother. "We can't just run away from Nimblestep like that! She's been dying to see us!" Yes, dying—like what happened to Downstar when SlugClan sent a whole patrol to steal Icepaw and Pearpaw from the only life they knew. Icepaw squeezed his eyes tight.
"Later, Pearpaw," Icepaw said through gritted teeth. "I can't do it now. I just can't." Icepaw finally looked up and locked eyes with Quickpaw. Did Nimblestep save her because they both looked the same? Would Icepaw be in her place if Quickpaw had been the one to slip out of Nimblestep's jaws that fateful day? Had Pearpaw even been considered for salvation?
"What would she have called us," Icepaw finally huffed, "if she got to keep us? She named you Quick. Who would we have been?"
"You would have been Sleek," Quickpaw said. She said it with such blunt sincerity that Icepaw snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. "Pearpaw, you would have been Silent. Quick, Sleek, and Silent." Hmm. Sleek. Icepaw had to admit, he didn't hate the name.
"I'm sorry, Icepaw's being rude," Pearpaw stammered, looping around Quickpaw. "I'm so happy I get to meet you. I've spent so long wondering what you would be like!"
"Me too," Quickpaw purred. She hesistated before Pearpaw, glancing at Icepaw all the while. Suddenly, Quickpaw dove into Pearpaw and rubbed against her shoulder. Pearpaw squealed at the sudden touch but did not recoil. A moment later, Pearpaw rubbed into her sister's neck with a noisy purr.
"Did Nimblestep tell you she attacked our mom?" Icepaw asked before his littermates could start sharing tongues and forget they were ever apart. "Puddlewhisper, I mean. She raised us. Nimblestep almost bit her tail off."
"My mentor, Crowtail, did," Quickpaw admitted, still purring as she moved back from Pearpaw. "He was there. Mom said she was sorry. She got overwhelmed."
"She still hurt our mom," Icepaw growled with a thrash of his tail. He pulled himself back, swallowing the bile climbing his throat. "But you… who are you? I mean, what are you like? I mean… I don't know what I mean." Icepaw kicked at the grass.
"I'm just… me," Quickpaw said, cocking her head slightly. "I don't really know how to describe myself. I like moss-ball. I like visiting the river, swimming is really fun. Uh… oh, don't tell Mom, but most of the time, when I need a break from her, I hide in this little nook in the roots of the Leader's Tree and sing to myself. I like singing."
"You hide from her?" Pearpaw repeated, taking a seat. "Why would you ever hide from your mom? Is she mean?"
"No!" Quickpaw stammered. "The opposite. She won't leave me alone sometimes. She always wants to know what I'm doing and if she can help. I couldn't wait to be an apprentice." Quickpaw glanced over her shoulder, as though Nimblestep would ignore Icepaw's wishes and storm into the conversation.
"Did she tell you how she left us?" Icepaw asked.
"In a way," Quickpaw groaned. "She told me she only managed to save me. Your meditators visited camp a few moons ago, and I bothered Sandhollow until he told me about you two." Quickpaw cocked her tail at Pearpaw and said, "You're always sticking close to Icepaw, and you get upset when something bad happens to a hero in stories."
"I want them to be happy," Pearpaw whined playfully.
"You love to stick your nose into everything," Quickpaw said, now pointing at Icepaw. "You're too smart for your own good, but you have a 'warrior's heart', whatever that means."
"Was Sandhollow complimenting us or insulting us?" Icepaw chuckled.
"You're also rude," Quickpaw pointed out. "Mom's always tried her best with me. You can at least see that she's trying."
"That's what I've been telling him!" Pearpaw huffed, making a face at Icepaw.
"She's not the one I want to get to know," Icepaw grunted. "She chose you, not us. Well, I want to choose you, and I want you to choose us. I want another sister."
"That's why I'm going to be a mediator!" Quickpaw chirped, ears perking. "I can make lots of excuses to see you!" Icepaw's ears perked up too. The twisting force in his chest unwound itself.
"Does SlugClan have any teachers?" Pearpaw asked. "Maybe Icepaw can get Shrewflame to help SlugClan with the new role!"
"We have one," Quickpaw hummed, "but I have a better idea. How do you feel about sneaking out of camp?"
"Quickpaw," Icepaw said with the seriousness of a battle-hardened warrior. "I have wanted to sneak out of camp since I was born."
"That doesn't make any sense," Quickpaw laughed, playfully flinging her paw at Icepaw.
"Wouldn't it be better to make sure the adults approve our visits?" Pearpaw gulped. "I don't want to make my mentor upset."
"The adults are why Mom never saw you before tonight," Quickpaw whispered, leaning in. "We're shouldn't have to wait until graduation before we can visit each other. We should have our own Gatherings!"
"We could meet where SlugClan, WheatClan, and AshClan meet," Icepaw purred, ideas sparking wildly. "We can meet on the new moon! That way we don't have to worry about missing the actual Gathering."
"It'll be fun, Pearpaw!" Quickpaw said, nudging the pale ginger molly. "Don't you want a sister?"
"I really do," Pearpaw groaned, one ear angling back. "Oh… alright, let's do it. The Littermates Gathering." Quickpaw and Icepaw cheered at the top of their lungs. Icepaw laughed at Quickpaw's cries, and Quickpaw laughed at Icepaw's laughter.
That was family, to him—choice. He wanted them, they wanted him, and none of them would let the others go.
The Clan collectively celebrates Weedfoot as everyone finds a way to move on. Potterypool, Wolfgaze, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw join their littermates in the warrior’s den.
[Image ID: Potterypool, Wolfgaze, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw are adults and graduates. Under Potterypool, it says LEVEL UP! POTTERYPAW → POTTERYPOOL, INSECURE → SNEAKY, LOVES TO SING → GREAT SINGER. Under Wolfgaze, it says LEVEL UP! WOLFPAW → WOLFGAZE, CURIOUS ABOUT STARCLAN → CONNECTION WITH STARCLAN, CONFIDENT WITH WORDS → GOOD SPEAKER. Under Currentsmoke, it says LEVEL UP! CURRENTPAW → CURRENTSMOKE, CONSTANTLY CLIMBING → GOOD CLIMBER, HAS LOTS OF IDEAS → SKILLED TOOLSMITH. Under Yarrowclaw, it says LEVEL UP! YARROWPAW → YARROWCLAW, THOUGHTFUL → COLD, STARES AT FIRE → TALENTED FIRE-STARTER.]
"I'm still awake, I promise," Wolfgaze yelped, blinking wildly and shaking the exhaustion from her thick fur. Thank StarClan she didn't fall over. She'd claimed a spot on the Resting Place immediately after her ceremony, providing a great vantage over the camp. Yet the lulling waves behind her and the empty, clouded sky above were the perfect recipe for a long nap. Weevilpaw stood with her front paws on the log, her entire body standing straight with excitement.
"Downstar said I could fetch you," Weevilpaw chirped. "You made it! Your codekeeper's vigil! How did it feel?"
"Long," Wolfgaze yawned. She stumbled off the Resting Place, licking her lips. "Where are the others?" Potterypool, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw had been sitting outside the camp the last time Wolfgaze looked. Now the entrance was barren, all thorns, brambles, and stones.
"They already fell back into camp," Weevilpaw chuckled. "Currentsmoke was so tired, I thought he would fall on his face!"
"I'm ready to see my graduation gift," Wolfgaze sighed as Weevilpaw rubbed against her. The tortoiseshell cleric helped her sister into camp, laughing as Wolfgaze's eyes drifted shut. With the sun peeking over the sea, Wolfgaze expected the Clan to set out for the day's patrols, but to her surprise, she found most of RippleClan gathered in the center of camp. Downstar sat on the Shiprock, gazing down at the activities below her. Potterypool, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw stood at the edge of the crowd, trying to see what caught their kin's attention.
"What's going on?" Wolfgaze asked, morning clarity clearing her thoughts. She and Weevilpaw joined the newly graduated cats, who were all largely ignored by the rest of the Clan.
"The artisans are doing something," Yarrowclaw explained.
"I think it has something to do with that big chunk of wood they brought in last night," Currentsmoke pointed out. "Remember? Elmsprout and the artisans pulled the sled out and came back to camp with a huge piece!"
"It was a slow night, Currentsmoke," Potterypool hummed, gently nudging her friend. "I think she remembers." Wolfgaze did not, in fact, remember, but she pretended she did.
Wolfgaze braced herself and squeezed between Splashtuft and Wildclaw. She weaved around her Clanmates until she broke into the center of the circle. Mitespark, Elmsprout, Rabbitjoy, and Rattlepelt stood around a wooden sculpture. Ravenpaw sat near them, listening carefully as Rattlepelt explained what they were doing. They picked at the wood with their claws, their teeth, and a few specialized tools; sharp stone picks that could be wrapped around the paw with leather straps, perfect for detailed work on pottery and woodwork. Elmsprout was the first to notice Wolfgaze.
"Wolfgaze!" she called, gently stepping back from the sculpture. "You finished your vigil! Congratulations! Your sisters made your nest in the warrior's den. I'm certain you'll like their gift."
"What are you doing, though?" Wolfgaze asked.
"Oh, that's right, no one told you," Elmsprout gasped softly. "Mitespark, let her see!" Mitespark carefully pulled her carving pick from the wood's surface and moved to the side. It was a bust, a cat's face from the tip of their ears to their collarbone. They were a smooth-faced cat with round features, shaped almost like a triangle sitting on its tip.
"We debated whether to carve in her stripes or paint them," Rabbitjoy explained, "but I think we're going to paint them."
"Is this someone I'm supposed to recognize?" Wolfgaze asked.
"We carved it from memory," Mitespark admitted, "but imagine gray fur and deep blue eyes…"
"James and Scaleripple are making paint for her," Rattlepelt explained. "We told James he could rest and enjoy the finished product, but I guess he wanted to lend a paw for once."
"But why carve Weedfoot?" Wolfgaze asked, glancing at the crowd. "Why is everyone so excited?"
"A Clan's leader and deputy carry all of us on their backs," Rabbitjoy said, brushing against the newly named codekeeper. "They affect all of us, and we all grieve them when they pass. It's a part of our history fading away. The whole camp was up last night sharing memories of Weedfoot, and Paleseed came up with this idea. We're thinking of doing the same for future leaders and deputies after they pass."
"We'll find a place to store them where the paint won't decay," Rattlepelt promised.
"It will be lovely," Wolfgaze purred. A yawn slipped through her words, despite her efforts to hold it back.
"It will still be here when you wake up," Mitespark laughed. "Go to sleep!" Wolfgaze bowed her head, her exhaustion flooding back with Mitespark's simple order. She moved back through the crowd, who passed along a few more congratulations.
"Wolfgaze!" Billowhaze stepped out of the swarm just as Wolfgaze breached the horde. His whiskers twitched in casual mirth. "Anchovy and I are planning abig battle-training session with Estherfern's litter this evening. You should join us! With all the Spirits of Shadow out there, those five could practice against that stare of yours."
"I'm not sure," Wolfgaze gulped, her ears suddenly growing hot under Billowhaze's charming stare. "It might be too dangerous to leave camp just for a training session. With what happened to Silverpaw…" Silverpaw should have been sitting vigil with Wolfgaze that night. Wolfgaze shouldn't have had to spend those long moments wondering what happened to her sister, what Spirit of Shadow pulled her under, never to be seen again.
"That's why training will be good for them," Billowhaze insisted. "We can even bring Weevilpaw along if that makes you feel better. The Spirits of Shadow wouldn't match claws with our three star-blessed warriors, would they?" Billowhaze winked and turned back to Weedfoot's bust, trying to gaze upon the former deputy's face. Even through the chaos of recent moons and the overpowering desire to sleep, Wolfgaze still felt her heart flutter at Billowhaze's stare.
It seemed her life as a codekeeper was off to a good start.
(Weevilpaw: 13, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)
(Wolfgaze: 13, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, good speaker)
(Billowhaze: 13, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)
Boughpaw found a forget-me-not flower growing in the frost and decided to keep it.
[Image ID: Boughpaw now wears a forget-me-not flower. Under her, it reads + ACCESSORY: FORGET-ME-NOTS.]
(Boughpaw: 10, female, historian apprentice, righteous, constantly climbing)
While collecting samples of ichor for a banishing ritual with Estherfern, Anchovystrike, and Mosspounce, Foampaw swears she hears Shrewkit crying in the distance. When she and Mosspounce go to investigate, only Mosspounce returns alive with horrified tales of a manykit and a new spirit composed of frost-covered leaves.
Slushtrail knew, as soon as Downstar ordered everyone to stay in camp unless absolutely necessary, Longest Night would truly be a long, long night.
Three torches sat before the main bonfire, separate from the other memorials. A withered dandelion sat in front of the tallest. A silver stone necklace hung from the second. Salt crusted the base of the third, dipped in sea foam. It was a lot like the Longest Night Slushtrail remembered from her kithood. The artisans danced and sang, the historians told stories, the caretakers prepared a late night meal. The fire still roared against the never-ending night, a refusal to bow to the cold and decay. Slushtrail could tell, however, that it hurt some of her Clanmates to keep up the fight. Estherfern ranted to her remaining kits, relaying all she had learned in those last few moons about the Spirits of Shadow and their dangers. Mosspounce laughed a bit too loud at one of Lemmy's comments. Lavendertwist sang just loud enough to hurt Slushtrail's ears. Rattlepelt fought to keep Ravenpaw's attention, trying to demonstrate a special dance. RippleClan was clawing at the edge of a cliff, trying to pull themselves back up, unable to think anything but "it will be okay" when their hearts spoke the opposite.
Honeybuzz brushed his tail against Estherfern's shoulder mid-rant. She paused, and Slushtrail could see Estherfern's breath catch and fog around her. She touched her nose to each of her kits and followed Honeybuzz to the side, where Troutpool and Weevilpaw waited. Slushtrail couldn't hear them, but they sat close and carried torches in their eyes. Best to leave them be for now.
The rest of Slushtrail's family sat in front of the nursery. Tallowheart worked with Oilstripe on an old story; a great war between WheatClan and SlugClan and a friendship that healed their wounds. Carnationspeckle listened closely with Rattlepelt and Wildclaw while Shrewkit hid under Rattlepelt's fox pelt, shivering. With one more look over the rest of the Clan, Slushtrail joined her mothers and siblings.
"How do you like Longest Night, Shrewkit?" Slushtrail asked.
"I don't like the cold," he huffed, pulling his face under the fox pelt. "My mom's probably freezing her flank off tonight."
"I'm sure wherever your birth mother is," Carnationspeckle sighed, lifting the kit's cover away, "she's just happy you're growing up somewhere safe and warm. Can I warm you up?" Shrewkit nodded and crawled closer to his grandmother. Carnationspeckle licked Shrewkit's fur the wrong way, warming his blood.
"So can leaders really give cats whole new names?" Shrewkit asked, turning to Tallowheart and Oilstripe. "Like the warrior in your story?"
"I'm a living example of that!" Wildclaw chirped, gently bunting her son. "Have we told you I used to called Graythroat? Downstar gave me a new name because of how fiercely I defend RippleClan."
"More like because you have a death wish," Oilstripe chuckled. Tallowheart hid a snicker.
"I've outgrown it!" Wildclaw insisted with a laugh.
"Mostly," Rattlepelt hummed, rolling her eyes. Wildclaw batted her mate's muzzle, and Shrewkit laughed.
"Well I never want to lose my name," Shrewkit declared. "My mom named me Shrew, and that's who I'll be, forever. The kit part is extra." When he sat taller, he nearly head-butted Carnationspeckle's jaw into her skull.
(Tallowheart: 14, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)
Troutpool hopes Trumpetspore notices her.
[Image ID: Troutpool stares at Trumpetspore.]
---
Troutpool stared at Trumpetspore from the medicine den as Trumpetspore and Brightpaw showed Shrewkit how to perform a hunter's crouch. There wasn't a lot of room to practice, since almost everyone was in camp, safe under the divine protection Troutpool and her peers summoned. It was the same protective ritual they performed during Harvest Moon. The clerics could only pray it would guard the Clan long enough for them to strike back against the Spirits of Shadow. Yet despite her chronic fear of them, Trumpetspore proved more confident in Troutpool's rituals than the cream cleric was.
"Keep your flank a little lower," Trumpetspore said, nudging Shrewkit's high flank down. "You're doing well." Troutpool didn't care if others laughed at Trumpetspore's nervousness or groaned at her panic. There was a keen-eyed warrior under that blanket of anxiety; a warrior Troutpool wanted to know more. Troutpool's eyes softened as she watched the black warrior move with such ease between Shrewkit and Brightpaw, eager to train despite the danger.
"You're staring." Troutpool startled a bit. Scaleripple stood outside the den, expressionless. He held a paw to his chest. A large thorn jutted out from his pads.
"I was just marveling at how well Shrewkit's adapted to Clan life," Troutpool stammered with a lick of her chest. "Here, that thorn looks awful, I'll help you get it out." That was obviously why Scaleripple was there, why did Troutpool have to say it like that?
Troutpool led Scaleripple into the shadow of the den. She grabbed a few cobwebs from the shelves (no need to waste a bandage on a simple thorn). She held Scaleripple's paw out and gripped the thorn between her teeth.
"You were staring at Trumpetspore," Scaleripple said right as Troutpool ripped the thorn out of his paw. Scaleripple hissed and licked the fresh flowing blood. Troutpool moved his paw back down and placed cobwebs on the small wound.
"Stay here for a while, and keep your paw off the sand," Troutpool said. "I'll take the cobwebs off soon. A wound that size will close quickly." Troutpool licked a strand of cobweb off her paws. Scaleripple stared at her, barely blinking. Did he want to talk about Trumpetspore? Well, if he did, he could just ask. Troutpool had no reason to be embarrassed by it. "You know Trumpetspore well. If I were to ask her on a date—"
"No," Scaleripple said so suddenly that Troutpool once again startled. They both stared at each other, one confused, the other certain in an unknowable, detached way. No? What did Scaleripple mean by 'no'? He wasn't Trumpetspore's mentor. Troutpool didn't need his permission! She must not have been able to hide her thoughts as well as Scaleripple did, for the gold and white warrior continued. "You told Trumpetspore her littermate was an omen. Why would she be your mate?"
"Scaleripple," Troutpool huffed, finding what little confidence she possessed and hardening her voice. "I only reported StarClan's sign. I didn't want to make Tempestshade's life hard. I revealed it at their trial because I didn't want them to be found guilty of murder."
"Instead you made everyone avoid them," Scaleripple said. He glanced at his bandaged paw with a soft huff. He tore off the red-stained cobweb and spat the wad onto the middle of the floor. "So, no. You don't get to ask Trumpetspore on a date. You don't deserve that." Scaleripple licked his paw once more and walked out of the den. It didn't seem to matter that he left Troutpool spinning, a dormant pressure rising in her chest. No, Scaleripple sauntered back into the packed clearing like nothing had happened.
RippleClan prepares a ritual to fight back against the Spirit hordes.
[Image ID: Troutpool, Honeybuzz, and Weevilpaw stand in a circle around Estherfern. Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, Oilstripe, and Scaleripple watch from the sides.]
---
In Estherfern's faith, there was her God, who did His best to watch over her home, but there were also the Six Predators. The Wolf, The Fox, The Owl, The Hawk, The Rat, The Cougar. These vengeful, vindictive deities loved to toy with catkind, so Estherfern's home developed a dozen ways to combat their influence. Somewhere in the back of her heart, Estherfern wondered if they were the ones who tormented the souls of the Dark Forest, who gave birth to the Spirits of Shadow. Maybe they were the ones to kill Foampaw. Maybe they were laughing somewhere, saying "Look at Esther. Stepping above her station, making friends with the damned. Shouldn't she have known better? It's so fun to watch her destroy her family."
That night, Estherfern would spit in the faces of the Six Predators, of the Spirits of Shadow, of everything supernatural that roamed her new home, because no one got away with hurting her kits. Not even her.
"Estherfern, we don't have to tell anyone," Honeybuzz whispered as the procession trailed toward the beach. Honeybuzz and Estherfern kept to the back of the group, carrying baskets of supplies. Troutpool walked inside a circle composed of Weevilpaw, Anchovystrike, and Wolfgaze. Oilstripe and Scaleripple kept a sharp eye for strange shadows, ready to fight and protect the untrained clerics.
"What sort of justice would that be?" Estherfern huffed.
"The sort that keeps the peace," Honeybuzz said.
"Peace built on lies is no peace at all," Estherfern sighed. "When this is done… we're telling the Clan. May your ancestors and my God forgive me." Estherfern stared at the clouded sky. If StarClan was as strong as her Clanmates claimed, their presence would not be dulled by simple clouds hiding Silverpelt from view.
As the patrol approached the beach, it began to snow. Flakes danced on Estherfern's nose. Wolfgaze rubbed her fluffy pelt against her sister's thin fur as Weevilpaw shivered. Honeybuzz ran into the thicker circle of cats, quietly begging for extra warmth. Estherfern soaked in the cold. The cold meant she was alive. She was free. It was this freedom she sought to protect ever since she escaped the cat-minded human. Yet in seeing her kits as imprisoned in their bodies, had she not denied them freedom? Whenever she spoke with Wolverinepaw, the long-furred duplicate of Estherfern still stared a bit too hard. Thunderpaw still didn't ask Estherfern to repeat herself if she didn't catch what she said. Brightpaw squirmed in Estherfern's company, and Boughpaw stayed silent, forgotten in her normalcy. The truth would be the only thing that could fix their bonds, even if it destroyed them in the process.
"This is the place," Troutpool finally said. The patrol stood where the river met the ocean, dissolving into branches. Sand melted into mud and clay. A salt pool sat in the sand, the artisan's precious system to separate out the water and harvest the pure white crystals. The sea was nothing more than churning shadow. Estherfern and Honeybuzz set their baskets down.
"StarClan is watching," Oilstripe whispered, head spinning. "There are so many cats. I see Mousesong, and Weedfoot, Silverpaw… Estherfern, Foampaw is here." Estherfern steadied herself. She swallowed the rock in her throat.
"This is for you, Silverpaw!" Wolfgaze called into the dark, still pressed against Weevilpaw.
"They aren't saying anything," Oilstripe said. "I think they're just bearing witness."
"Foampaw, forgive me," Estherfern whispered.
"Oilstripe, Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, Scaleripple," Honeybuzz said, taking dry mushrooms out of his basket, "you'll patrol around us while we work. Anchovystrike, how do we look?"
"There's ichor everywhere," Anchovystrike groaned, sneering at the sand. "The spirits roam the entire territory."
"It shouldn't be hard to draw them in," Weevilpaw huffed, standing taller. "I'll call out if I predict any of them attacking."
"This will take some time, so stay alert," Honeybuzz said. "Weevilpaw, help me build this side of the circle. Troutpool, Estherfern, take the other half." Estherfern gently grabbed a mouthful of mushrooms, which grew damp in the snow, and started on her side of the circle.
The circle would be far bigger than the one in Estherfern's cursed den. Yes, it was similar to that original circle, composed of the same mushrooms that connected the living world to the Dark Forest. Yet here, the design was not based on those damned traditions, but Estherfern's faith. While the mushrooms formed the curves of the circle, rather than filling the interior with an herbal sludge, Estherfern's basket held a purer replacement; the spirit-rebelling charms from Harvest Moon. In Estherfern's home, the charms would have had the gentle face of God, with tufts of fur representing each of the Six Predators replacing the mushrooms.
"Is this safe?" Scaleripple asked. He sat in the branches of a chokecherry, carefully watching the shore.
"We're summoning Spirits of Shadow and sending them back to the Dark Forest," Weevilpaw scoffed as she set down a few more charms. "There's a lot of risk involved here. But it's what we have to do if we have any hope to get rid of them all."
"I don't mean the spirits," Scaleripple said softly. "These gods that Estherfern fears… are they real?"
"Of course they are," Estherfern snapped, almost knocking a mushroom out of its place. "They may not dwell over your lands, but they dwell over mine."
"What if we summon both the spirits…" Scaleripple said, "and your Predators?" Estherfern's paw clenched over a charm. Was the white-speckled warrior right? Estherfern knew so many tales of the Six Predators and the way they destroyed lives. They did not need to feed, they did not have that excuse for their mayhem. It was fun for them. They spread their domains with no care for each other or any living creature. Was Estherfern repeating her earlier mistakes? Was she, in her effort to fix one problem, inviting something far worse?
"Esther," Honeybuzz said. He met Estherfern's eyes from the other side of the circle. He set the last mushroom in its place. "It's our best option. There are too many." Estherfern nodded. She settled the last of her charms in the circle and turned to Troutpool. The head cleric nodded in return.
"Everyone, stay back, and stay quiet," Troutpool called as Estherfern stepped into the circle. "Honeybuzz, Weevilpaw, are you ready?"
"I'm not a very good singer," Weevilpaw chuckled. She rubbed snow out of her eyes and settled at the edge of the circle.
"You don't have to be," Estherfern said. "Just say the names clearly."
"I've never heard names like these," Troutpool muttered, tucking her tail over her paws.
"You wouldn't have," Estherfern said with a flick of an ear.
Weevilpaw, Honeybuzz, and Troutpool sat equal distance from one another, poised outside the circle. Scaleripple jumped out of the tree and joined Oilstripe. Wolfgaze and Anchovystrike lingered near Weevilpaw. Snow dusted the mushrooms and charms.
"The ichor isn't happy, I can already tell," Anchovystrike muttered. Wolfgaze put her tail to his muzzle.
"Predators of the Great Glowing Lands," Estherfern yowled into the snowy night. "We bind you to this place with your true names!" The four clerics closed their eyes. The song came naturally to Estherfern, embedded into her very being. It wasn't hard to teach it to her compatriots.
Luponthoth
Vulpo Thun
Strigart
But-oro
Rapendazera
Punai'kema
The gentle voices of the clerics rose through the snow in a soft, yet tense melody, like bird song. Estherfern dropped out of the song and opened her eyes. Oilstripe and Anchovystrike's hackles rose, their heads bouncing to sights only they could see.
As Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw carried on the song, Estherfern yowled, "We know of your appetites! We know of your boredom! This land is filled with wicked spirits! We have formed their path to safety, and they'll think they can escape. Have fun!"
The cleric's song cut off as a violent gush of wind battered their voices, flinging snow into their eyes. Wolfgaze yowled, bracing herself against Anchovystrike. The leaves that decorated Oilstripe's pelt flew off. Estherfern's heart raced as the snow bit her nose. Yet a few moments later, the wind receded. Estherfern breathed deep. Scaleripple shook out his pelt while Honeybuzz shivered. The humming ocean made Estherfern's ears ring.
"Stay where you are," Estherfern warned her companions. Her fur spiked when a sudden realization washed over her. "Anchovystrike, close your eyes."
"Why?" Anchovystrike asked.
"Foxdung!" Weevilpaw suddenly cried, jumping with her back arched. "They're… from the forest! Watch out!"
"Anchovystrike," Estherfern yowled as something tumbled through the trees, "you see the unseen influence of the supernatural. If you see the Predators as they really are, you will go mad! Now close your eyes!" Anchovystrike obeyed just in time.
Terrified howls echoed through the forest. Black sludge dripped from the grass onto the sand. It tumbled faster and faster like a newly formed river, racing toward the circle. Oilstripe and Scaleripple scrambled back as the ichor slammed into the circle. It launched at Estherfern with a steaming, bubbling sound. Estherfern held her ground. The ichor plunged into the sand around her like a fox leaping into snow. It stained the sand black and burrowed deep, deep, deep.
Then the monsters came. They howled and shrieked and cauterwauled, running through the trees as fast as they could. There were darkhounds, thundering along with massive paws and bloody jaws, yipping like pups. There was forsaken prey, decayed and rotten yet moving and squealing just as they did in their final moments. Leatherwaste flopped and flew about, and something new, something without a proper name, some storm-spun bundle of dull brown leaves and glistening frost, slithered toward the circle.
"Stay down!" Weevilpaw yowled, belly dropping to the sand. All except Estherfern mimicked the cleric apprentice. The Spirits of Shadow raced alongside the trail of ichor and into the circle. They dug and clawed at the sand, following their lifeblood back into the depths. But they were the lucky ones.
Estherfern could not see them, but she could see their power unfold. Unseen talons snatched spirits by their backs and flung them into the sky. Eager, invisible jaws snapped and bit into the sticky flesh of the spirits. Something dragged unlucky spirits into the shadows, screaming. They sank into the earth before they reached the circle. They dissolved into steaming piles of ichor with torturous wails.
The world went white. The loudest, strongest clap of thunder Estherfern had ever heard reverberated through her skeleton and stayed singing in her ears. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear. Her skin buzzed. In a moment of clarity tucked within the chaos, Estherfern wondered if this is what her kits felt. A path without sight, without sound, heart pushing out of your chest, is a blessing compared to the fate that awaits the rot.
It took some time for Estherfern's vision to clear. She and her Clanmates were still standing, unharmed. The ichor and spirits were gone. There was no sign they had been there at all, save for a few mushrooms missing from the circle. The other cats groaned, rubbing their ears and eyes. They were alive. The spirits had left RippleClan.
Something drew Estherfern's gaze up. Clear shapes formed within the clouds, backed by a pale glow. Each cloud looked perfectly like its subject; a wolf, a fox, an owl, a hawk, a rat, and a cougar. Where their eyes would have been were balls of lightning, sparking and dancing, glaring down at the Clans in hunger.
The creatures of the glowing sky do not rule this land, but visitors cannot be denied. The stars shall extend their power, and the beasts shall fill their bellies. So it has been for you, so it shall be for all.
"Foampaw?" Estherfern gulped, barely capable of hearing herself.
"Can I open my eyes now?" Anchovystrike gulped. He still had his paws over his face.
"They're gone!" Weevilpaw cried. She ran into the circle and plowed into Estherfern. The old molly looked back to the clouds, but they were now a simple sheet of gray against black. Honeybuzz and Troutpool joined them, pressing against Estherfern.
"Is StarClan still watching over us?" Wolfgaze asked, hopping into the circle.
"They left when the ritual began," Oilstripe stammered, staring across the river, "but they've returned. They're watching from afar. I can't tell what they're thinking."
"They're on our side," Honeybuzz promised, waving the others into the circle. "I petitioned them myself at the last half-moon. We wouldn't have done this if StarClan disapproved."
"They may not have disapproved," Estherfern muttered, "but that does not mean they are proud."
"I think they are!" Troutpool chirped. "It was scary, but we've banished the spirits. We can walk our lands freely again. We wouldn't have saved the Clan without you, Estherfern." Troutpool nuzzled Estherfern, but the old molly still stared at the clouds.
"I don't understand you, StarClan," she whispered, not caring whether the cats pressed into her overheard. "You ask my God to send me here, you stand by while I summon your enemies, you allow me to draw the gaze of something far worse on your descendants. Why?" The stars shall extend their power… the voice in Estherfern's head had been as clear as when Foampaw last stood by Estherfern's side. Was it somehow better for the Clans to attract the attention of the Six Predators? Was it an earnest decision, made for the betterment of the five Clans? Did StarClan desire more power, more control, more souls?
Estherfern sighed. She would find no answers that night. She would be the one providing answers soon enough.
(Estherfern: 112, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
(Honeybuzz: 26, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)
As Wildclaw moves on from grieving Clammask, she and Rattlepelt go for a walk together.
[Image ID: Rattlepelt and Wildclaw approach two black newborns. Under the leftmost kit, it reads NEW PLAYER: VALLEYKIT, 0, MALE, QUIET. Under the rightmost, smoky kit, it reads NEW PLAYER: MIDNIGHTKIT, 0, MALE, POLITE. Under Wildclaw, it reads - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]
Rattlepelt typically despised winter. The snow was beautiful, Longest Night was lovely, and she always purred when kits played in the snow. But her Clanmates had fur. They could handle the cold. The winter wind didn't sting their bodies and quickly numb their limbs. They could safely leave camp! Meanwhile, Rattlepelt stayed huddled in the artisan's den, tucked under extra leather pelts while she, Rabbitjoy, and Frostpaw fixed baskets.
The artisan's den was packed with supplies and tools; leather wraps for managing hot stoves, drums, dry ferns and grass for basket weaving, and more. All those supplies trapped heat within the rocks and brambles. There was just enough work for the three artisans to sit and do their work.
"Trust your claws," Rabbitjoy said as Frostpaw pulled twine through the stakes of her basket, weaving it back and forth. "Your claws are made to snag material like this. Let them hook the twine and treat it as an extension of your paw."
"My wrist keeps getting stuck," Frostpaw muttered. She tried to hook her paw around the next stake, but since she was repairing a hole in the side of the basket, her paw had little room to move. The twine kept slipping off Frostpaw's claws in her effort to pull it through without breaking the basket further.
"Repairing a basket is harder than weaving it from scratch," Rabbitjoy assured her. "Don't worry if you can't make it tight. Try your best."
"How do humans do this?" Frostpaw groaned as she finally pulled her thread back around.
"Malformed paws," Rattlepelt explained with a chuckle, tying off the broken base of her basket. She waved her paw, flexing her pads. "Their paws are flexible and good at crafts, but they barely feel a thing."
"They also don't have claws!" Gingerpaw suddenly stuck his big fluffy head into the aritsan's den, his maple seed necklace bouncing on his chest. Estherfern lingered behind him with a bundle of bark, but her apprentice was ignorant to his mentor's shoving. "They just have hard rocks on top of their paws!"
"Gingerpaw, go away!" Frostpaw whined. "We're working! Don't eavesdrop!" Estherfern finally knocked Gingerpaw away from the artisan's den and back to his chores. As Gingerpaw walked off, laughing, Frostpaw groaned and threw her paws over her ears. "I hate him sometimes!"
"He's just being silly," Rabbitjoy said, patting Frostpaw's back. Rattlepelt placed her repaired basket against the den wall. As she stretched her front legs, Wildclaw peeked into the den. Her amber eyes seemed brighter than they had in a few moons.
"Rattlepelt, come outside!" Wildclaw chirped. "It's finally a bit warm. I want to go on a walk."
"I should really help Rabbitjoy finish the basket repairs," Rattlepelt chuckled, snatching loose twine in her claws.
"You've been trapped in camp for ages," Rabbitjoy scoffed. "If it's warm, go outside! We only have one other basket to repair. Frostpaw and I can fix it." Rabbitjoy rolled the remnants of a broken basket toward her. Wildclaw kneaded the sand, eyes glowing. Rattlepelt purred. It was hard to resist that face.
"Let's go, then," Rattlepelt sighed, fixing her lavender-lined fox pelt onto her back. Frostpaw grumbled under her breath as she searched for fresh twine and Rattlepelt joined Wildclaw outside of the artisan's den.
Wildclaw was right; it was so unseasonably warm that the Clan didn't need a bonfire in the center of camp. Snow clung in piles along the dark and cool corners of the rocks and wood, but RippleClan could once again relax against the cool sand of their home. The land beyond camp was no longer white and brown, but a strange, gray-tinted mixture of tan and green. Though Rattlepelt's skin still danced under the soft chill, it was a pleasurable chill. It was a fool's spring, the sort that RippleClan would usually take full advantage of.
But RippleClan was not, in fact, taking advantage of the good weather. Instead, Wolfgaze, Weevilsight, Ravenweaver, and Trumpetspore hovered around the medicine den. They quietly shared tongues and muttered soft encouragement. Some of their friends and mates (Billowhaze, Anchovystrike, Brightreed, Scaleripple) comforted them, glancing into the shadows of the medicine den and quickly looking away.
"It's Mosspounce," Wildclaw sighed when she noticed her mate's confused look. "Honeybuzz just told his daughters. The infection is getting bad. They aren't sure how much longer he has."
"Should we visit?" Rattlepelt gulped.
"Later," Wildclaw quietly promised, heading for the camp exit. "The walk might give me time to think of what to say." Rattlepelt watched as Honeybuzz trailed out of the medicine den, merging into the small crowd. Trumpetspore scrambled into the medicine den as Honeybuzz spoke softly to Wolfgaze, Weevilsight, and Ravenweaver. Rattlepelt dipped her head, allowing her fox pelt to cover her eyes. She ignored the rest of the Clan and pressed into the false spring.
The birds hesistantly tested the warm weather, chirping their questions to one another, as though their fellow feathered friends could provide an answer. The mid-morning light offered the land a chance to stretch and feed itself before the explosion of frost and snow that would mark the remainder of the year. Twigs and branches, reminders of summer's rich foliage, rubbed against Rattlepelt's fox pelt. Her paws sank into the wet earth. Wildclaw strolled beside her, quiet, her ever-present guardian.
The silence stretched on for longer than Rattlepelt expected. The pair journeyed deeper into the forest, simply basking in the light. At one point, they spotted Tallowheart and Splashtuft, going over a few tales. Wildclaw raised her tail in greeting and passed them by. The two mates wandered over boulders and roots. All the while, Rattlepelt thought and thought and thought.
A twig snapped deep within the trees. Rattlepelt froze, eyes locking on the sound. A great buck stared at Rattlepelt and Wildclaw. Its magnificent crown of antlers snagged leaves that refused to fall from their trees despite the pressure of snow and time. Its brown coat blended into the forest. It flicked a round ear at Rattlepelt, blinking thoughtlessly.
"Wonder if it thinks you're a cat or a fox," Wildclaw hummed. The buck slowly lost interest in the two cats. It bent back down and chewed on a twig just beginning to bud, tricked by the heatwave. Rattlepelt took a deep breath. Her chest still hurt from the shock.
"We should go home," Rattlepelt suddenly said.
"What?" Wildclaw scoffed. "We're barely past mid-morning. Why turn back now?" Rattlepelt couldn't answer her mate. Did she even have an answer?
"Do you ever have a feeling that something bad is about to happen?" Rattlepelt asked. She jumped onto a large, mossy rock and spun in circles, trying to get comfortable among the limp leaves.
"Define 'something bad' for me," Wildclaw said. She joined Rattlepelt on top of the rock.
"We've had a lot of good in our lives lately," Rattlepelt groaned. "You've been a great mother to the toms."
"Now that I don't have a death wish anymore?" Wildclaw chuckled.
"You still get into some good scraps," Rattlepelt hummed, gently bunting her mate. "No, I just mean that even with… what happened with Lemmy, the two of us, we've been alright."
"Don't tell the rest of the Clan this," Wildclaw muttered, batting at the wet leaves under her, "but I get where Lemmy came from with killing Achilles and everything. It all spun out of control for her. I feel bad for her, even if she killed our Clanmates."
"It just makes me think," Rattlepelt groaned, "is it our turn next? When am I going to suffer some major loss again?"
"What do you mean?"
"When will tragedy strike the ones I love? Will one of my moms die? Will something happen to Shrewflame, or Whitepaw?" Rattlepelt pulled her fox pelt off. She was almost panting under its heat. "I feel like something's standing right behind me. Like I'm going to ruin everything."
"Is this about the Shardling? We keep telling you that wasn't your fault. It's not like you wanted to be possessed."
"It still happened, Wildclaw. It nearly broke me. Something's telling me that it will happen again. I know I sound crazy—"
"You don't sound crazy." Wildclaw leaned against Rattlepelt. "It's been a hard few moons. You've been stuck in camp. You're stressed. Why do you think I wanted to go on a walk with you?" Rattlepelt sighed. She forced the ripping, anxious itch in her chest out with her breath.
"You're right, you're right," Rattlepelt groaned.
"I always am," Wildclaw chirped.
"Don't gloat," Rattlepelt chuckled, shoving Wildclaw's muzzle down. Rattlepelt dragged her fox pelt back over her sensitive skin as a breeze made the bare branches dance. Rattlepelt could still smell the deer on the wind, but she smelled something else too, something pungent and stranger than any deer.
"Humans?" Wildclaw muttered, tasting the air. "Oh, those are definetely humans. Yuck." Wildclaw sneered at the smell.
"I hope they aren't setting more traps," Rattlepelt gulped. "Frostpaw almost stepped in one last moon!"
"Let's see if they are," Wildclaw suggested, hopping off the rock. "Keep low, alright?" Rattlepelt nodded. She and Wildclaw crept through the twigs and leaves, letting their noses lead them closer to where the WheatClan and AshClan borders met. As they pushed deeper into the forest, the humans soon became audible. There were two of them, with gangly meows that wavered in pitch. Rattlepelt kept low, the tail of her fox pelt dragging on the undergrowth. Wildclaw, nimble as ever, slipped silently closer to the noisy humans.
The two humans stomped around the corner of the three Clans. They were young from their size, with the tight-fitting leathers that typically marked males. Rattlepelt marveled at the leather's bright colors and strange patterns, unlike anything artisans could achieve. The smaller of the two held his front limbs close to his chest, keeping two small forms steady while his taller friend followed and yowled.
"I've never seen humans fight each other," Wildclaw muttered as the smaller human hissed at his companion. The black masses resting in the human's embrace shifted. Tiny mews broke through the human screeching. Rattlepelt held her breath when two sets of baby blue eyes peeled over the leather. The small human had two black kits!
The storyteller in Rattlepelt imagined what the humans could be doing. Were they yowling about the kits? Who were the kits? Did the humans take them from their mother? Did they even know their mother? Rattlepelt's anxieties slipped away, overshadowed by overwhelming curiosity focused on the strange unknowable creatures called humans.
The small human suddenly made a quick, snappy hiss at his companion. His strange eyes focused on the undergrowth… the undergrowth where Rattlepelt and Wildclaw lurked. The pair stayed utterly still, eyes locked on the smaller human. The small human slowly crouched, still staring at the two mollies. He made a soft, mouse-like chirp that drew all of Rattlepelt's attention. It made her stomach growl, as though she spotted a mouse shuffling through the leaves. Her ears turned straight on to the human. Rattlepelt caught herself before she slipped a paw out of her hiding spot. Whatever strange magic the human was wielding, Rattlepelt could not give in!
The human continued making that alluring sound as he carefully placed the two kittens on the ground. They couldn't have been more than half a moon old. The kits crawled on top of each other, stunned by the sudden lack of warmth. The human crept back like a hunter. He crouched at the side of a tree fox-lengths away from the kits.
"Is this some type of trap?" Rattlepelt asked.
"What kind of trap uses kits?" Wildclaw muttered. "I think… they want us to take the kits."
"I thought humans loved kittens."
"Maybe they don't want to take care of them."
"So they leave them in the forest? How cruel."
"But they aren't, they see us. I think they're looking for Clan cats." Did the humans know about the Clans? Did they know about RippleClan?
The tall human snapped at his smaller friend and grabbed his shoulder. The human spun and shoved him off, sneering. They yipped and growled at each other, with their mangled paws waving wildly at the kits. Rattlepelt steadied her jaw. She crept out of the undergrowth. The nose of her fox pelt touched the light first. Wildclaw snuck alongside her. The humans no longer noticed them.
Rattlepelt snatched the scruff of the bulkier kit, a tom with a slight smoky pattern across his pelt. Wildclaw grabbed his brother, who looked nearly identical. As soon as they had a good hold of the kits, Wildclaw and Rattlepelt ran. The two humans startled, finally aware of what the cats were up to, but they had no chance of catching them.
Rattlepelt and Wildclaw only slowed down when the ocean peeked between the trees. They skidded up to a sandy beach and dropped the kits. Both toms were shockingly quiet, merely huffing at the sudden stop and trying to get their bearings. Rattlepelt panted hard. Wildclaw groaned, stretching her hind legs.
"Well," Wildclaw huffed, "I think we found your bad feeling." She waved a paw at the kits.
"You know this isn't what I meant," Rattlepelt muttered. She sat beside the two black kits. Her fox pelt slipped off from all that running. The tail floated on top of the kittens' heads. The bulky tom's permanently unsheathed claws snagged one of the dried lavender petals woven into the fur. So much like Shrewflame.
"I don't know about you," Wildclaw hummed, slipping next to her mate, "but this feels like one of those moments StarClan designs just for us." Wildclaw dipped her paw in front of the smaller black tom, who instinctively crawled to it. He latched his tiny muzzle onto Wildclaw's toe. "The next step seems pretty clear to me. Ready to be a mom again, Rattle?"
(Wildclaw: 83, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
(Midnightkit: 0, male, kit, polite)
(Valleykit: 0, male, kit, quiet)
Mosspounce died of an infected wound.
[Image ID: Ravenweaver, Trumpetspore, Washington, Wolfgaze, and Weevilsiht crowd around Mosspounce.]
---
"Lemmy better get here soon," Mosspounce muttered. His bandaged, sightless eyes gazed out of the medicine den. "She'll be… very upset if she misses this."
Mosspounce laid in the back of the medicine den, surrounded by his daughters and Trumpetspore. The other clerics all left the den, giving the family their privacy. Washington was still there, though; Mosspounce had insisted the old tom not leave. The glow of a yellow sunset dripped between the thin gaps in the wood, dappling Mosspounce's pelt. Trumpetspore practically laid in the nest with Mosspounce, curling around him. She whimpered as though he had already died. Whenever her voice rose to a cry, Weevilsight had to close her eyes and push back her sudden rage. She couldn't even think about her father. All she wanted was for her aunt to shut up.
When Mosspounce made his comment, Ravenweaver looked ready to join Trumpetspore in her pre-mature vigil. Wolfgaze's hazel eyes tightened. Weevilsight stuck her nose into Mosspounce's ear. For a moment, she was just a cleric again, checking on her sick patient. Mosspounce's ear burned.
"If she wanted to be here she wouldn't have…" Wolfgaze growled.
Wolfgaze bit her tongue, however, when Ravenweaver quietly snapped "She's still our mom, Wolf." Wolfgaze paced around the empty nests of the medicine den, keeping her supernatural gaze off her father. Ravenweaver crawled to the edge of Mosspounce's nest and rested her head by his sickly-smelling wounds. Her lavender crown fell onto Mosspounce's head. Mosspounce shifted just enough to nose Ravenweaver's forehead.
"Your old molly's just off hunting, Mossy," Washington suddenly coughed from his nest. "She's on her way." Mosspounce purred softly and groomed his daughter's head, unable to lift his own and properly share tongues. All the mollies in the den stared at the old gray tom.
"I don't know if we should lie to him, Washington," Wolfgaze muttered, squirming under Washington's wizened eye.
"He can't understand what's happening anymore," Weevilsight quietly explained. "He's too far gone."
"Don't say that, stop saying that," Trumpetspore whimpered. She buried her face in Mosspounce's back.
"It's happening, Trumpetspore!" Weevilsight suddenly hissed, the petals in her fur fluttering out as she turned to her grieving aunt. "And… and there's nothing else we can do for him." Weevilsight stepped back, forcing her sneer off her face as Trumpetspore wailed again. Trumpetspore clawed at the edge of Mosspounce's nest and shook so hard that Mosspounce moved as well. A painful buzz filled Weevilsight's chest and made her limbs ache. Her head burned with too many thoughts. There was nothing she could do. Not for Mosspounce, not for Lemmy. She was losing both of them in less than a moon.
"I'm not trying to intrude," Washington croaked, shaky paws pushing out from his nest, "but could you help me close to him?" Weevilsight took a while to move, even as Washington groaned under the simple yet mountainous effort of standing. Washington's groaning mixed with Trumpetspore's moans in a painful chorus that threatened to undo Weevilsight's remaining sanity. The tortoiseshell cleric slipped beside Washington and supported his large weight. With Weevilsight under him and his broken leg stiff and splinted at his side, Washington limped to Mosspounce's nest.
"You're a funny old flea-feast," Mosspounce whimpered as Washington fell next to him.
"I'm glad I could make you laugh," Washington purred, "even if we haven't known one another long." Washington set his paw against Mosspounce's shoulder. "I'm sorry to see you go. But this is a good death, in my eyes."
"A good death?" Wolfgaze huffed, marching in front of Washington. "What would be 'good' is if my father wasn't dying at all!"
"But he's dying with his family around him," Washington groaned, waving at the mollies crowded around Mosspounce. "That's more than many get."
"Hi again, Tempest," Mosspounce muttered, lifting his head slightly. "Have you met my mollies? They're good kits." Weevilsight's paws inched toward the exit. She needed to stay, she had to stay, yet her body pushed her outside. Still, she stayed long enough to catch her father's last words.
(Trumpetspore: 52, female, warrior, nervous, makes the best pottery, good storyteller)
(Weevilsight: 26, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
(Wolfgaze: 26, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)
(Ravenweaver: 26, female, artisan, den builder, very clever)
(Washington: 219, male, elder, nervous, good mediator)
Mitespark and Wolverineheart have grown closer over time, relying on one another through the recent chaos. They decide to become mates. Wolverineheart’s littermates celebrate with the pair.
[Image ID: Mitespark speaks with Wolverineheart while Boughfur, Thundergale, and Brightreed stand behind their sister in support. Under Mitespark, it says + MATE: WOLVERINEHEART. Under Wolverineheart, it says + MATE: MITESPARK.]
(Mitespark: 33, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)
(Wolverineheart: 23, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)
(Boughfur: 23, female, historian, righteous, great climber)
(Thundergale: 23, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)
(Brightreed: 23, female, warrior, righteous, student of art)
Moontide and Cobaltchaser don't move in time to avoid a large fir tree falling right on top of them. A patrol doesn't find them until they've both moved on to StarClan.
[Image ID: Moontide and Cobaltchaser are both StarClan spirits. Moontide says, "We need to see our sisters."]
