Despite being an old lady, Judaschaser (128) is still an agile cat. She manages to land on her feet nimbly after slipping on an icy rock. The other cats account her dexterity to her star-blessed status. Yuccastar (86) is jealous. Bushmask (117) and Brightfalcon (150) have developed the kind of relationship that Brightfalcon didn’t have time to develop with Stormrush. They go on walks, admire each other, and dote on their family. Brightfalcon’s happy to have achieved this life for herself, in spite of everything she’s been through. She does miss Rosemaryquake and Stormrush, but she still has the rest of her loved ones. Speaking of whom, Graysong (20) has not been thrilled with how Yuccastar has been running things. He’s even been complaining about her behind her back. And she overheard. Flurrypelt (20) however, is a fan of Yuccastar. He glares at Graysong, but his brother doesn't notice. Pythonkit (4), who is stuck in the healer's den after he got frostbite from sneaking out of camp, has been watching Flintpaw’s (8) training. He’s a little worried that his own training, as a powerless cat, will be difficult, and asks Flintpaw for advice. She doesn’t have much for him. It’s just hard.
In honor of Moon 100, here's a drawing I made of all of the founders' children! Thank you so much for all the likes and support you've been giving this blog. I'm so glad that there are other people out there who are attached to these cats!
Anyways, here are the characters, from top to bottom and left to right:
Top Row: Chervilcry, Stonefreckle, Needlekit, and Frostkit
Second Row: Graypaw and Flurrypelt (Yes, their poses are supposed to mirror Stormrush and Bushmask's in the founders art post I made)
Third Row: Shardfrost, Yuccastar (willow), and Mountainpaw (I drew Mountainpaw how he looked in my head)
Bottom Row: Peakspots, Rosemaryquake, and Antlersky (I drew Rosemaryquake and Antlersky pretty young-they're more like Rosemarypaw and Antlerpaw here).
I have a couple more short stories in the works about some of these characters, so that will probably be the next non moon/sprite related thing you see.
Well, it was less of a change and more of an absence. An absence of the sound that had been by her side for longer than she could remember. The sound that had been there when all others hadn’t. The sound that had gone silent.
Rosemaryquake wasn’t coughing.
Antlersky strained her ears, channeling the wind through the warriors' den. For the first time in a quarter moon, there was no coughing coming from the Healer’s den.
She searched deeper, not caring when the gusts of wind woke up her denmates. She searched for the inhale and exhale that had forever echoed in her ears, as familiar to her as her own.
It.
Wasn’t.
There.
She screamed into the void, desperate to fill it with sound. Devastated when her scream was the only sound she heard. Cats moved around her but she ignored them.
She ran to the clearing, the clearing where so many breathless bodies had lain. Stormrush’s and Egretshell’s and now-
-her sister’s.
Caterpillarmallow looked up from where she had placed the limp, gray body. Her eyes were tired as they met Antlersky’s desperate ones. She shook her head.
Antlersky collapsed to the ground.
She stuffed her nose into the still, gray fur, listening and feeling and smelling for any signs of movement.
There were none.
Her sister was dead.
Rosemaryquake had reached her end.
And Antlersky was left to live in its wake.
~~~
A new day broke.
Rosemaryquake’s body was buried.
But Antlersky was still where her sister had left her.
Caterpillarmallow returned from seeing to the other sick cats and sat down next to her. Antlersky listened to her breath. It was steady. Almost the exact same length inhale and exhale each time. Antlersky loved its consistency.
She loved Caterpillarmallow’s consistency.
She loved Caterpillarmallow.
Antlersky’s own breath caught.
She wouldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t. There was no world where she risked losing that breath without even trying to keep it at her side.
So, still sitting in the clearing where her sister’s body had lain only hours before, she asked.
And Caterpillarmallow said yes.
After the end, they watched the day go by.
~~~
Somehow, life continued.
Antlersky supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. It always had in the past.
The first moons were hard. There was a canyon in her heart that could never be filled.
But, slowly, day by day, she got used to it.
She teased her half-brothers and sisters without resenting them for who they were not.
She watched out for Midgepaw when his mentor, Moorleg, was being too rough on him. She swore to herself that no young cat would be as alone as she had felt, with no adults for support and only her sister by her side.
She leaned on Caterpillarmallow. Her constant. Her mate. Her love. Whose breath never faltered. Who guided Graysong and Needlepelt in the Healer’s den. Who made sure that Flurrypelt and Frostheart were always included. Who made certain that Antlersky was at least civil towards her parents.
Life went on. Life was good, although in a different way than before.
Until the end.
It happened in Leaf-bare, just like all the other tragedies in Antlersky’s life. She was out for a walk, carefully listening and smelling for any prey on the wind.
Listening so carefully for them that she didn’t hear the snowbank give way beneath her.
That she only had time to inhale.
Before.
A brief flash of pain as the spikes pierced her body and everything went dark.
~~~
She opened her eyes.
For the first time in her life, the wind was silent.
Well, technically it was the first time after her life.
Because there were stars in her fur and an unfamiliar mountain in front of her that somehow felt like home.
Antlersky was dead.
She was surprised to find that she wasn’t devastated. She hadn’t wished to die. But now that she had she could accept reality without fighting it.
Maybe because. . .because. . .Stormrush would be there. For the first time in many moons, she could see her mother.
But, more importantly. . .
A cat stepped out onto the mountaintop next to her. A cat with starlit gray tabby fur and a pair of glowing moth wings behind her ear.
“I’ve missed you, Antlersky,” said Rosemaryquake.
Antlersky ran to her sister. She leaned up against her and was surprised to find that they were both solid. “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry I left you.”
“You had no choice,” Antlersky murmured. It was true. Brightfalcon had left her eldest daughters alone, even though she had still been alive. Even though she could have chosen to try. Antlersky hadn’t been able to forgive that.
With Rosemaryquake, there was nothing to forgive.
“We’re together now,” Antlersky meowed, “that’s all that matters.”
Rosemaryquake nodded and sat down beside her on the mountaintop, looking out at the endless stars.
They were together again. Together, even after the end.
The wind whistled in Antlersky’s ears. She had to have misheard.
But her mom was still there, Bushmask standing at her side.
She shook her head and a gust of wind ruffled Bushmask’s fur. No. Absolutely not. This couldn’t be happening.
“Well?” Brightfalcon asked. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
Rosemaryquake’s tail flicked against Antlersky’s legs. A warning that Antlersky chose to ignore.
“What do you expect me to say?” Her meow matched her mother’s in its veiled annoyance. “Congrats, Mom, you’re now mates with my uncle?” Who hadn’t been a part of her life up to that point and she didn’t even like. She hadn’t even known that Brightfalcon spent any time with him.
Brightfalcon didn’t deny it. Mouse dung. This is actually happening. Her mother sniffed. “There’s no need to put it like that. We’ve never had a sibling-like bond. We were friends. And then something. . .more.” She looked at Bushmask with a sappy expression that Antlersky wondered if she had ever looked at Stormrush with.
Brightfalcon had found time to fall in love again when she hadn’t found the time for her daughters. Antlersky opened her mouth to say something else scathing, but another, much more insistent, tail flick from Rosemaryquake stopped her.
“Well, we’re glad you’ve found that,” Rosemaryquake meowed, her tone carefully neutral.
“Speak for yourself,” Antlersky muttered, too quietly for Brightfalcon to hear. Bushmask had though. He was wind-blessed. Just like his sister. The mother Antlersky had never had a chance to know.
He looked down at the ground.
Antlersky turned away from her mother and her new mate. Not her father. Rosemaryquake followed after her as she walked away.
Just like Brightfalcon had walked away from her kits when they needed her most.
~~~
Antlersky listened for scratches on the wind. She heard the crinkle of leaves hitting the mountain slopes. The skittering pebbles dislodged by her paws. And finally, the soft scratching of a mouse nearby.
She slipped into a familiar hunting crouch and stalked forward, making sure to direct the wind so that the mouse’s scent went to her and not the other way around. When she got close enough, she pounced. And the Clan had more fresh-kill.
“Nice catch.” Bushmask padded up beside her. Antlersky had been trying to ignore his presence. Which was challenging when he seemed to be putting in extra effort to breathe louder than necessary.
Antlersky scratched some pebbles over the mouse, saving it for later. She shrugged. “Any cat could have caught it.”
Bushmask flicked his tail and rolled his eyes. He’d been trying to spend more time with her and Rosemaryquake since becoming mates with their mother. Antlersky didn’t love it.
But she didn’t hate it either.
A part of her liked the attention from a parental figure. She’d never had that before.
A gust of wind blew her way. A gust of wind that she hadn’t made. She looked towards its source. Bushmask must have felt the wind, too, because his eyes went in the same direction as hers.
“An eagle,” he whispered, his voice carrying on the wind.
Antlersky nodded. There was a giant, golden eagle perched on a rock above them. The wind had been from its landing. She crouched down. With leaf-bare on its way and half the Clan sick, they needed this catch. Desperately.
Bushmask flicked his ear, getting her attention. “You go left and I’ll go right. I’ll let it spot me. When it sees me, pounce,” he breathed.
It sounded like a good enough plan. Antlersky stalked off in the opposite direction of her mother’s mate, making a circle around the eagle.
A gust of wind washed over her face. From Bushmask. He leapt out of the bushes, as though going for the eagle, drawing its attention
Antlersky pounced when its back was turned.
She hurtled through the air, propelled on wings of wind.
The eagle didn’t stand a chance.
She collided into its back and they went tumbling. The eagle tried to throw her off, tried to take to the skies, but it couldn’t. Afterall, the sky was her namesake.
When the eagle finally stilled, Antlersky grinned at Bushmask, momentarily forgetting all the reasons she hated him.
He bounded over to her. “Fantastic job, Stormrush!”
She tensed. The reasons came back.
Bushmask realized his mistake. “Fox dung, I’m sorry Antlersky. I didn’t mean-”
“Quiet,” she snapped, the words punctuated with a whip of wind. Bushmask stopped speaking.
What was wrong with him? Was he so much of a mouse brain that he couldn’t remember his own step-daughter’s name? Or was he so much of a fox-heart that he didn’t care?
Or did he wish that Stormrush was hunting eagles beside him, instead of Antlersky?
Antlersky growled under her breath and started heaving the eagle back to camp. I’m not his sister. And I’m not my mother.
She left him in the dust storm in her wake.
~~~
Antlersky sighed, basking in the warmth of the Greenleaf sun on her pelt. It was a sign that the hard times were finally over. That she was done with dealing with an overprotective Rosemaryquake while hiding her own anxieties. That all was right in the Clan.
Nothing could ruin it.
“Psst! Antlersky!”
Not even little brothers.
She glanced over towards the sound of the mew. It had been soft. Likely too soft for Rosemaryquake, who was laying down beside her, to hear. Neither of her little brothers were wind-blessed. But only one of them was smart enough to speak quietly enough that only a wind-blessed cat would hear.
She looked over at Graykit, who was crouched down behind her and Rosemaryquake. He made a shushing motion with his tail before she could respond. “Distract him,” he whispered, pointing towards Flurrykit.
She almost ignored him just to see what would happen. Which would probably be a literal thorn in her side. I guess I got lucky having a low-powered Earth-blessed sister.
“Flurrykit,” she called out as she padded over to where he was staring very hard at a puddle, “want to play bouncy kitten?”
She had seen Stonefreckle playing it with his kits. If he could toss a kit up in the air with his wind-blessing, then she certainly could.
But Flurrykit shook his head. “No. I need to freeze this water.”
“Come on.” She batted him with a light gust of wind. She and Rosemaryquake hadn’t had much of an opportunity to play with the adults when they were kits. Antlersky wished that someone had been around to play bouncy kitten with her.
But Brightfalcon had walked away from the nursery and all it contained after Stormrush had died there.
“Stop it,” Flurrykit batted a paw at the breeze, as though that would deter her, “I need to focus.”
A vine exploded out of the puddle, splashing water everywhere and tapping Flurrykit on the nose.
“Hah!” Graykit bounced over. “You should have been focusing on me!” Flurrykit glared at his brother. “Thanks Antlersky,” Graykit whispered to her.
Antlersky rolled her eyes but found herself smiling. Especially when Flurrykit used Graykit’s distraction as an opportunity to knock his brother to the ground.
As the kits tussled in the dirt, Antlersky went back over to the patch of sun by Rosemaryquake. She settled into it with a sigh.
After a moment of watching their brothers, Rosemaryquake asked: “Do you ever wish we could go back to that time? Playing without a care in the world?”
Antlersky sighed, swirling the breath as it left her mouth. “You and I remember that time very differently.” She’d spent every moment of her kithood caring when neither of their mothers were around to do it. Every moment fearing that Rosemaryquake’s breath would halt too.
Rosemaryquake flicked her tail gently against Antlersky’s side. “I know. You were just a little ball of stress back then, weren’t you,” she teased. “But we made it through that. Together.”
Antlersky leaned up against her sister’s side. “Yeah, I suppose we did. Only for you to turn into a ball of stress every leaf-bare. You don’t have to take care of the whole Clan on your own, you know. We have multiple Healers for a reason.”
“Hmm, you would know, wouldn’t you?” Rosemaryquake smirked. “Considering you spend a significant amount of your time admiring one of those other Healers.”
“Shut up,” Antlersky muttered, flattening her ears in embarrassment. But her eyes betrayed her and darted to where Caterpillarmallow was drying some herbs outside of the Healers’ den. The tortie noticed her gaze and smiled. Antlersky licked her chest fur.
Rosemaryquake laughed softly. “Don’t wait too long.” Her smile faded slightly. “I wouldn’t want you to miss your chance with her. We know all too well what could happen.”
Still, gray fur flashed through Antlersky’s mind. “Yeah, we do.”
Rosemaryquake sensed her change in mood and pressed closer. “But no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other. Together ‘till the end.”
Here's part two! And umm. . .apparently I skipped today when I was queuing up the posts. I think I forgot that March has 31 days and not 30. Sorry about that. Since I have over 200 posts queued and don't want to go and change them, you'll get two parts of Together Again today instead of just one!
Trigger warnings: Death
Moons 54 and 55
Antlerpaw dropped the mouse.
No, no, no no no no NO!
Not again. It couldn’t be happening again.
But it was.
There, in the middle of the clearing, was a body.
Antlerpaw sent a gust of wind towards it and found no movement. No breath.
It was still.
She felt cold, gray fur against her paws, felt the wind whipping around the nursery. Felt the absence of life.
But wait.
The fur of that cat was brown. Not gray. It wasn’t Brightfalcon or Rosemarypaw. It wasn’t Stormrush.
It was Egretshell.
Anterpaw forced herself to bend down and pick up the mouse. She almost gagged on the feeling of its death. She picked up one paw, and then the other, and marched that mouse to the fresh-kill pile. Pointedly pretending like the body-like Egretshell’s body-wasn’t there.
Rosemarypaw came out of the Healers’ den, holding a sprig of her namesake in her mouth. Brightfalcon must have had her preparing the body. Antlerpaw shuddered at the thought of touching it.
Her sister looked over at her, concern in her eyes, but Antlerpaw shook her head. She was fine.
Yuccawillow asked her the same thing the next day.
Antlerpaw just looked away from her and didn’t say a word for the rest of the patrol.
~~~
Antlerpaw shivered against the chill.
She hated Leaf-fall.
Everything was dying. The forest was quiet. She couldn’t feel the vibrations the birds’ wings made in the air, couldn’t hear the too-fast breath of the mice.
It was all. Too. Quiet.
“Mouse dung!”
Well, except for Rosemarypaw. She was as loud as ever.
Antlerpaw trotted over to the healer’s den to see what was wrong. She found Rosemarypaw hunched over a mess of green and brown leaves.
“Hey,” she meowed.
Rosemarypaw jumped. “Antlerpaw! I swear it’s like cursing summons you.”
Antlerpaw shrugged. It kind of did. She was always listening for Rosemarypaw on the breeze. But there was no point in telling her sister that; it would only make her feel bad about the low strength of her earth-blessing.
Instead, she nodded towards the herb pile. “What happened?”
Rosemarypaw sighed and continued fidgeting with the herbs. “Mom told me to organize the stores and take stock of what we have in preparation for leaf-bare. She said everything should be fine, that she just wanted me to check. But it’s not! Look at this!”
Antlerpaw did. She didn’t understand what she was looking at, but she still looked at it.
Rosemarypaw stepped on one of the still-green leaves, accidentally tearing it under her claws. “Fox dung!” Her mew rose in pitch. “We needed that.”
“What is it?”
“That was lungwort. The dead stuff is all of our catmint.”
“Oh.” Antlerpaw blinked. “That’s not good.”
“Nope. And it’s all mixed up with the lungwort so now, instead of trying to find more, I have to waste time sorting out the dirt from the useful stuff and Mom and I don’t have enough power to grow more of it and cats are going to get sick and then they’re going to-”
Die.
It had been a whole cycle of seasons since she and Rosemarypaw had born. A whole cycle since Stormrush’s body had gone as cold as the surrounding air.
“I won’t let it happen again,” Rosemarypaw said, staring at the mess of herbs in front of her. “I can’t.”
Antlerpaw stepped forward and pressed against her sister. With a gust of wind, she separated the dead catmint and the still living lungwort.
“There,” she said. “That’s one problem solved.”
“Thank you.” Rosemarypaw sighed and all but collapsed into Antlerpaw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Me neither.
Antlerpaw stayed pressed up against her sister, and felt her breathe.
Together Again is a four-part short story I wrote about Antlersky and Rosemaryquake. As I was going through these early moons to make this blog, I realized that Antlersky had an interesting story I wanted to write about. I'll post the next parts over the next couple of days.
Trigger warnings: Death, death of a parent, child neglect
Moons 44 to 48
Antlerkit curled up by Mama’s belly and watched Rosemarykit play with a mossball. She could have joined in but she didn’t want to. She was content sitting and watching, feeling Mama’s breaths rise and fall and matching them to her own.
Stormrush sighed and readjusted herself. Antlerkit pressed closer to her, rubbing her cheek gently against the cobwebs on Mama’s side. She didn’t know Mama without the cobwebs. They were as much a part of her as her fluffy fur.
Rosemarykit tired of the mossball and started nosing in the dirt. Sometimes little flecks of it would fly up and hit Antlerkit. She just dusted them off with a gust of wind. She felt the rise and fall of Mama’s chest as she drifted off to sleep.
A change woke her up.
Rosemarykit was snoring next to her, and Mama had wrapped her tail around her kits. But. . .there was something missing. A rhythm that Antlerkit had known even before she had memories.
She kneaded Mama’s stomach, whispering so quietly that only wind-blessed ears would pick it up. “Mama? Mama, are you okay?”
No response.
She tried again, louder. Rosemarykit turned over in her sleep but Mama didn’t move. Wind whipped around the nursery, and Antlerkit even tried to guide some of it towards Mama’s mouth. But nothing happened.
“Mama!” Antlerkit shrieked. A gust of wind blew over Rosemarykit and woke her up. “Mama! Please, wake up.” The wind ripped the cobwebs off Stormrush’s side, but no blood oozed out of them. Antlerkit didn’t notice.
“Mama! Mama!” She shrieked, over and over again. There were other cats in the nursery, now, trying to reach her. Antlerkit was dimly aware of another cat parting the wind and then Mommy was there.
Brightfalcon licked the top of her head. “Calm down, little one, it’s alright.”
It wasn’t alright. It would never be alright because Mama. Wasn’t. Breathing.
“She’s just sleeping,” Mommy said, “She’s just—oh.”
And Mommy pulled away.
They took away Mama. Antlerkit didn’t know what they did with her, just that she was gone.
There was no one else in the nursery. Just her and Rosemarykit, who blinked at her. “When will Mama be back? She promised to give me a bear ride after her nap.”
Antlerkit knew that Mama wasn’t coming back. She had stopped breathing. That meant she was gone. But she didn’t know how to explain that to Rosemarykit. Instead, she pressed up against her sister and wrapped a cocoon of wind around the two of them. She felt Rosemarykit inhale. . .and exhale.
They were still together.
∿∿∿
She was asleep.
A change made her dream.
Antlerkit pawed at the nest, feeling Stormrush’s cold fur instead of the moss. There was no breath in the world, no wind to make anything stir. “Please, please wake up. Please say something, Mama, please move, Mama, please breathe, Mama. Mama!”
She jerked awake and a wind pushed the moss from her nest. She was alone in the nursery and no one was there and where was Rosemarykit and what if she had gone too and what if-
“Hey.” A whisper at the entrance to the nursery made Antlerkit jerk around. It was Rosemarykit, padding back in with a droplet of water on her nose. “I’m alright. I just got thirsty.”
Antlerkit stared at her sister, watched the rise and fall of her sides, and nodded. “Okay. Is Mom-”
Rosemarykit shook her head. “No. It’s just us tonight.” She paused and looked at the ground. “Again.”
Antlerkit almost wanted to run over to the Healers’ Den to make sure that Brightfalcon was still breathing. She’d done it before, but Brightfalcon had just looked up at her blankly.
She settled back down into their nest as Rosemarykit came and lay down. Like Rosemarykit had said, it was just the two of them. And Antlerkit was determined that it always would be.
∿∿∿
Antlerkit watched the clouds roll by through the hole in the camp roof. The skylight, she’d heard the warriors call it. Soon, she’d get to see more than a patch of the sky, feel more wind than just her own. Soon, she wouldn’t have to sleep in the den where her mother had died.
Rosemarykit was listening to Howllichen tell stories. Antlerkit used a gust of wind to bring their voices to her, to make sure that they were both talking. If she concentrated, she could make sure that Rosemarykit was still breathing.
She was so focused on her sister that she didn’t notice the other cat approaching her.
“It’s really pretty out today, isn’t it?” The other cat asked, and a bit of wind ruffled Antlerkit’s fur as she looked over in surprise. It was a voice she hadn’t heard much of lately, except when she listened in on the Healer’s den. It was a voice she dimly remembered from Before. But that hadn’t been present After.
“Um, yeah Mom, I guess it is.” Antlerkit eyed Brightfalcon out of the corner of her eye. She was just sitting next to her, like talking to each other was totally normal for them.
“You’ll be an apprentice soon. I bet you’re excited about that, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Brightfalcon hesitated and shifted her paws. “Are you. . .doing okay? I know these past few moons have been kind of. . .hard. On you.”
Those ‘past few moons’ had been pretty much her whole life. And Brightfalcon had been notably absent from them. Antlerkit sent a quick breeze over to Rosemarykit. Still talking. Good.
“I’m fine,” she said. She looked back up at the clouds moving through the sky. “But thanks for asking.”
“Of course,” Brightfalcon said. She didn’t get up and leave like Antlerkit had expected. Instead, she sat and watched the clouds beside her. Antlerkit listened to her inhale. . .and exhale.
The combination of leaf-bare and the war is wearing on the Clan. Brightfalcon (161) is devastated by the loss of her son, just a year after she lost Rosemaryquake. She’s not sure she wants to go on in a world where her kits are dead. Can’t she just go back in time to last leaf-bare, when they all were still alive? The war with FurledClan has led to ElementClan having to adopt new routines. Yuccastar (97) has their strongest wind-blessed cats flushing up drifts of snow on the borders and often puts Peakspots (102) on border patrols, so that any cats who remember Nightingaletree see her son is still out and fighting. But after a border skirmish leaves him with a bad wound, he has to take a rest in the healer's den. In his absence it doesn’t hurt to have Yellowcreek (45) do a little dark-cursed demonstration. Just so they don’t forget who they’re dealing with. Yuccastar has also recovered from greencough and came out as nonbinary, using she/they pronouns. They seem to be having a bit of a mid-life crisis and doubting herself a lot more than they used to. Meanwhile, Antlersky (76) is getting along with her brother, feeling the need to bond with her remaining siblings after Flurrypelt’s loss. Meanwhile, the quadrangle cats are bonding. Cressfreckle (34), Airclaw (60), and Graysong (31) had a nice talk while eating, and Cressfreckle purrs for a long time at one of Airclaw’s lame jokes. However, Yellowcreek is taking some time by himself. The demonstrations haven’t helped Yellowcreek’s reputation with some of his clanmates. He notices that cats like Bushmask (128) and Flinttooth (19) have been nervous around him lately. He wishes they would just relax and that Yuccastar wouldn’t ask any more of him. But he decides that he won’t stop using his powers to protect his Clan, if that’s what Yuccastar thinks is best.
With leaf-bare over, life in the Clan seems to be looking up. Cats are recovering from the grief of losing Rosemaryquake, and Bushmask (118) has even been making an effort to get along with Yellowcreek (35). His son seems to like the dark-cursed cat, so Bushmask can give him a chance. Darkpetal (147) enjoys entertaining the kits by telling stories to them. Flurrypelt (21) is also enjoying spending time with the kits. He feels relaxed and happy around them. Flintpaw (9) is less relaxed and happy. She’s still having a bit of a hard time with training. She feels like she’s falling behind, and other cats are noticing. Airclaw (50) offers to help, since her littermate, Sunjaw, was also powerless. Somehow that doesn’t make Flintpaw feel better. Yuccastar (87) is watching as Judaschaser (129) seems to be gaining popularity in the Clan. Cats like her and the young warriors look up to her. More than they like and look up to Yuccastar. That bothers her. A lot. She decides to do something about it. She invites Judaschaser to follow her out on a patrol. They head to a remote part of the territory, right on the border with another Clan, and Yuccastar attacks. She lunges forward and, before Judaschaser can react with her magic, rips out her throat. Yuccastar returns to camp, leaving Judaschaser’s bleeding body on a patch of snow. Yellowcreek had seen his former mentor leave camp with Judaschaser, and, knowing what she did to Rindlefish, decided to follow her. He watches her murder Judaschaser while hiding in the bushes.
Meta: So, I'd been mediating Judaschaser and Yuccastar to hate each other, and both their dislike bars were completely full. With Judaschaser being an elder, I was worried she would die of natural causes before Yuccastar killed her, and I didn't want to wait too long and lose that story thread. So I manually killed Judaschaser and decided that Yuccastar had killed her. And that Yellowcreek, with his horrible luck, had seen it again. For story reasons.
