hellos! I'm here to say that I am alive! Still working on Strelles but admittedly struggling. I was Unwell for the longest time and I've come to the conclusion that in one of my stress-freakouts, I deleted a few folders and documents of clear notes and the notes past-me did write were damn near incomprehensible - bc again, super unwell from burnout and spending the last 4-ish years collecting eulogies.
thank you to everyone being patient with me while I'm attempting to figure out wtf past me was talking about
Spark the Light - Chapter 3: The Hunt for the Galespun
Allegiances | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Asterdawn wasted absolutely no time, marching them furiously through the forest and calling for a meeting the second her whiskers crossed the threshold of the gorse tunnel. She was already sitting atop the highrock when the rest of the Kirkyard group slipped in after her, taking grim seats at the base as the those who stayed behind sleepily stumbled into the main clearing, confused but panicked. Obviously they remembered the last time their Storm had called a meeting directly after a meeting had been to announce the ascension of Scornedclaw to leader of the Fennyield and how he’d forced territory from the Shorerisen’s paws.
“There seems to be trouble brewing with the Shorerisen and the Fennyield,” the molly explained, recapping the entire meeting portion of the Games.
“But didn’t they back down?” Wolfpaw asked, slightly confused. “The Styrman even apologized.”
“That was the most insincere apology a cat has ever given,” Cardinalfire told the cadet gently, ignoring Urchintail. “He probably only did it to save face given his stand-in lieutenant clearly didn’t agree with his decision.”
“He's right,” said Asterdawn, eyes flicking to him before returning to her seniors. “They were just on opposing sides for most of the meeting but when it was brought up that the Galespun rightfully deserved to be returned to their territory, they each expressed displeasure.”
“Nightrattle I understand,” scowled Callastorm, his long and feathered tail twitching with open agitation. “Though he is more ambitious than I thought when I extended that moon of peace to him.”
“Don't claw yourself,” Asterdawn told him kindly. “It is clear that the Fennyield have grown comfortable with holding more land than they can even patrol. If they wish to take advantage of a deal offered with good intentions, then may the souls judge them accordingly as the ahaliim sets in.”
“But why would the Shorerisen want the Fennyield to keep the uplands?” Nadderpelt inquired, Lynxpaw staring up at her drillmaster.
“They want them to keep them?” Chaffinchpaw demanded, a tone of confusion entering her voice.
“When Nightrattle mentioned the moor, not once did the Styrman attempt to claim them for his own faction,” Nadderpelt explained. “He just got angry at giving them back.”
“Perhaps he means to take them from Nirghtratthe directly?” Cardinalfire offered. It was a reasonable question after all - he wouldn't personally fight for an enemy to keep a large slab of territory that put them closer to their own border… “if the Fenns keep the upland, their border brushes the Shorerisen. Then they could reasonably dispute the border.”
“That would let them claim whatever they could defend of it,” Nadderpelt agreed. “But that doesn't explain why - the river is the most stable source of prey in the forest. When everyone else starves, the Shores remain strong and plump.”
“...geese,” Quietpaw said, likely pulling from what they'd been told. “Osierstream said she was promoted fighting off a few geese that stuck around.”
“Geese alone shouldn't be enough, we must be missing something,” said Asterdawn before shaking her head, as if to dislodge any thoughts she was still considering. “Well, we can't read the minds of the Shores and we can't prevent the Fenns’ growing greed - all we can do is guard our borders and prepare for the possibility of a Shore-Fenn alliance against us.”
She flicked her tail allowing Callastorm to quickly rattle off, “So Wildheart, Chickadeechitter and Pricklestripe, head out as the moonpeak patrol and mark our border with the Shores. Everyone else, rest up - we’ll have to be on high alert.”
With the meeting clearly over, Cardinalfire didn’t hesitate to follow after Jackdawstripe with a yawn, slinking towards the comforting warmth of his nest. He was asleep almost before the thick-feathering of his larger tail had draped itself comfortingly over his back.
| | | |
He chased the squirrel swiftly, unable to suppress the laughter attempting to bubble up from his chest as he swiped tauntingly at its bushy tail. He wasn’t hungry for once, not really intending to catch anything merely seeking to burn away his additional energy. The squirrel went up a tree at the same time he caught the clear scent of a mouse and he turned on paw, sprinting into the messy fallen leaves with a tom-ish snicker. He caught sight of the little brown rodent, rifling through the leaf litter and branches, launching himself onto the tiny creature’s back.
Just as he released it, intending to start the chase anew with whatever else he could find, his body seized up and a familiar ashen scent filled his nose.
I’m dreaming, he realized and the brilliant, cloudless blue of the sky immediately flashed blood-orange as a starless night-sky began rapidly crawling above his head, almost like it was devouring the very sun itself somewhere on the horizon.
The petrification of his dream vanished, invisible shackles dropping at his paws and Cardinalfire took off. His eyes flicked down briefly, his paws flashing between a gentle lilac and his usual ruddy coat. The comforting heat thudded powerfully in his chest to the beat of his heat, like Ashara’s Hearth had taken up a happily humming residence within his lungs. His paws stung lightly with the force of his pawsteps as he cleared the distance between the glade he was in to- to- he wasn’t sure, his paws were tugging him on like they were possessed by an outside spirit of some sort. All he knew was an growing sense of urgency, a distant but painful sense of panic urging him to move faster, move faster, you’re moving too slow-!
He burst from the bushes he doesn’t think he was running through before, chest heaving as he staggered onto the deer-trail with achy paws. He whirled around, searching desperately for whatever it is that had drawn him here, what had called him to the trampled grass but there was nothing.
What’s here? I have to find her- find him? What am I looking for? I’ll deliver this message - what message, what delivery- I-
A sudden shriek of pain erupted, seeming to come from every direction at once at the same time agony exploded through his body. He staggered, collapsing to the ground and tried to pull himself away, crawl away from the strange sourceless pain like claws shredding through his skin.
His paw slapped a pile of ashes, embers raining down around his head not burning his skin but blurring his vision and when he raised his ash-covered paw, he was stricken with horror at the crimson sheen it had taken on.
| | | |
Cardianlfire’s eyes snapped open as he scrambled as quietly into a sitting position as he could, releasing a panicky startled breath. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness of the legionary’s den but that was alright, because with ever deep and distressed breath he took in, the calmer her felt. Slowly he was able to make out the shape of various legionaries curled up in their own nests, dreaming peacefully with a few empty - a dawn patrol most likely. There was no blood here, no ashes to smear his fur - there was only the soft snoring of his denmates, the intermingled scents that made up the Stormborn concoction and the tattered remains of his nest scattered beneath his paws.
He took a shaky breath in, sheathing his aching claws back into his paws and started grooming.
There was no way that he would go back to sleep after a dream - a sight - quite as horrible as that one, so he might as well clean away the scents of fear and discomfort drenching his fur, making it stick out in various random directions.
Maybe Spottedholly will have something to help me, he mused. The grooming was already working wonders - with every swipe cleaning away the upset trying to stain itself into his fur, he felt his nerves beginning to settle down. His breathing returned to its normal pattern and when he was finally presentable, besides his thoroughly mangled nest, he’d be surprised if anyone could tell what had happened.
The growling of his stomach that he’d been ignoring finally coaxed him out of the den and into the steadily cooling sunlight. He squinted at the brightness, blinking furiously as he half-stumbled to the ukennva with awkward steps. He sniffed blearily at the pile, snatching a pair of mice for them to eat together and fumbled the rest of the way to the healer’s den. He did his best to avoid looking too traumatized or ruffled as he peered in. Much to his relief, the healer was already awake and seemed to be getting a head-start on sorting between dried, useless herbs and the dried, ‘can be stored for later’ ones.
“Spottedholly?” he called out, clearing his throat a little when his voice got stuck.
Her ears perked up and she twisted around to look at him, her expression immediately becoming concerned, “Hey Cardinalfire, it’s early.”
He stalked in, dropping the mouse in front of her and sitting down, “I brought a snack.”
“Cardinalfire, what’s wrong?” she asked gently.
“Ka mamanku,” he murmured, lowering himself into a crouch and took a half-hearted bite from the prey. He shuddered a little - the taste of the blood washing through his mouth bringing his dream back to the forefront of his mind. He gagged a little at the thought while Spottedholly quickly mirrored his pose. “...I… had another Sight. Vision.”
He watched her expression slowly morph from confusion and sympathy at his exhausted state to alarm and concern as he recounted the dream - from the panic, the pain, the ashes turned to blood and how he’d sat in the destroyed remains of his nest before finally making his way to her. She draped her tail over his back while he explained, offering a sympathetic purr when he stuttered in a few places.
“What do I… do?” he asked tiredly at the end.
“What you do is rest,” Spottedholly told him. He gave her a confused expression and she chuckled lowly, passing over one of the piles of herbs she’d been sorting. “You’re here now and you’re safe - with no blood, no fire. You’ve told me about the dream - it seems like someone might get hurt on the deer-trail, so I’ll stock up on herbs and review techniques for handling those injuries.”
“Can’t we stop the accident from happening?” he fretted.
“Maybe and maybe not,” Spottedholly told him, pushing the herbs more insistently to him. “We can warn our cadets, exercise extra caution around the trail and teach cats what to look out for but in the end, all we can do is prepare. You’ve done your part Cardinalfire, now try to get some sleep - a tired legionary can’t prevent anything while he’s tripping over his tail.”
Cardinalfire nodded mutely in acceptance, tiredly chewing through the herbs she’d offered him before pushing himself back to his paws.
“Your sister mentioned you used to share nests - see Jackdawstripe will share with you,” Spottedholly suggested. “It might help you sleep better to have another body.”
He made a jumbled sound of confirmation and walked back to the legionary’s den - the sun was already starting to climb higher into the sky, it would be a very not-fun battle fixing his sleep-schedule back to being away during the sun-peak period but that wasn’t something he would worry about for now. He just ducked into the den, opening his mouth to subtly wake Jackdawstripe only to pause.
His best friend was already sitting up in his nest watching him with sad, yellow eyes. The remains of Cardinalfire’s nest were gone, while Jackdawstripe’s seemed to have doubled in size and a Cardinalfire-sized space had been left at the tom’s belly.
“You have nightmares a lot and Asha said sleeping together makes them less intense,” the dark-gray tom admitted. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you but, um…”
Cardinalfire’s eyes stung as he trotted toward the nest and gingerly stepped inside. He turned twice in place before settling down, allowing Jackdawstripe’s massive, fluffy tail to settle over him. The russet tom shuffled backwards, instinctively cuddling into the thick, gray fur and releasing a soft sigh.
“Are you okay?” Jackdawstripe asked him quietly.
“...I think I am now,” Cardinalfire murmured back sleepily.
“Okay - sweet dreams, Cardinal.”
| | | |
“Cardinalfire? Hey, Cardinalfire.”
“Mm…?” the russet tom grumbled, tugging a paw up to cover his ears.
He heard a little laugh, “I know, I know, you’re tired but Our Storm wants to see us, surindi.”
Cardnalfire groaned and forced his eyes back open, feeling like he’d barely even closed them a moment before. He blinked tiredly at the gray paws filling his vision, a half-eaten squirrel resting between them as he drew his gaze upward to Jackdawstripe’s fond, amused expression. It took another moment for his brain to properly decipher what he’d heard before he sighed and slowly pushed himself back into a sitting position. A yawn broke free from his jaws as he shook his head.
“Surindi?” he said, trying to force the tiredness from his voice as he moved to gulp down the rest of the squirrel.
The thin skin of the larger tom’s ears turned red with obvious embarrassment as he looked away, “Sorry… it slipped out.”
“S’fine, what’s it mean?”
“It’s a name maam calls me sometimes,” Jackdawstripe admitted sheepishly. “It means ‘little bird.’ I can stop.”
But now I have to come up with a name for him, Cardinalfire told himself. A good name too, something as sweet as ‘little bird.’ He stretched, trying to wake himself up even a little more though given how tired he still felt - this was probably the best he was going to get. He shook out his pelt then quickly licked down the worst of the stray patches to make himself look presentable for his leader. Seeing that Cardinalfire was done with his usual ‘pre-leaving grooming,’ Jackdawstripe led the way from the den.
“Thanks for last night,” Cardinalfire murmured as they stood in front of the entrance to the leader’s den.
“Don’t worry about it,” the tom said, his ears going red once more. “I used to do the same for Ravencroon… before…”
Cardinalfire licked his shoulder, conveying his sympathy and gratitude in the same motion. He turned and released a soft ‘meow’ into the den, announcing their presence to Asterdawn. There was a brief moment of silence before another echoed back, granting them entry.
Cardinalfire climbed in first without hesitation, used to lounging in the den with his ex-drill master. His paws sank lightly into the thin layer of moss and baby-grass that lined the inside of the log-den, the small bit of dew built up on the blades feeling cool and comforting on his own warm pads. He waited for Jackdawstripe to join him, the larger tom having to shake the draping lichen and ivy from his back and releasing a soft ‘mrrow’ of pleasure at the soft feeling on his paws.
“This den is reason enough to want to become the next Storm,” he whispered, making Cardinalfire snicker.
At the back of the den, Cardinalfire was slightly surprised to see three figures waiting for them. Asterdawn’s presence on a smooth warm rock, soaking in the last rays of sunlight on her pelt was a given - this was her den after all and Callastorm, with the remains of a rabbit piled a short distance away from where he laid on his belly wasn’t too surprising either because he was her lieutenant. But Quietpaw, slightly ruffled and shuffling in-place with her tail lashing back and forth across the ground was an unusual sight.
The two toms exchanged a glance before pressing on to sit before them.
“Thank you for coming so promptly,” Asterdawn said. “You have an important mission ahead of you.”
There was a brief pause, as if she was letting them think before she concluded, “The two of you will be joining Quietpaw in the quest to find the Galespun.”
“I- really?” Jackdawstripe blurted out while Cardinalfire blinked with surprise. He’d understood the implications from the Kirkyard meeting that it would be the Stormborn’s sole responsibility to return the moor-cats back to their rightful places but he’d assumed that his Storm would choose more senior legionaries - like Wildheart or Cedarfur.
“It will be a true testament of your skills,” Callastorm added smoothly. “You’ll likely be crossing through hostile territory and the Galespun has likely left faction-territory altogether for their own safety.”
“Why not Cricketleap?” Cardinalfire suggested.
“Because I trust you two,” Quietpaw said firmly, drawing their eyes back to herself. “Asterdawn says you’ve met my Gale and you’ve always been against Scornedclaw from the beginning. I’m only taking cats I can trust with me on this mission and the only ones I’d want are you and the others are cadets.”
“Aside from that, we need our largest and strongest legionaries to remain guarding our borders,” Callastorm added. “Scornedclaw expressed intent of revenge and I wouldn’t put it past him to attack us just as ahaliim starts thinning the prey.”
Cardinalfire exchanged a look with Jackdawstripe before they nodded together.
“Alright Quietpaw,” Cardinalfire said. “Let’s find your faction.”
“Good,” Asterdawn said, approval and pride for their decision ringing through her voice. “Go to Spottedholly - she’ll have some traveling herbs for you to take and some basic herbs to bring along. And remember, once you cross the borders you represent not just the Stormborn, but all four factions in your words and your behavior.”
| | | |
Thing moved pretty quickly from there - Spottedholly had already been alerted that a party of three would be leaving for a long trip and handed over the herb bundles with a kind set of well-wishes. Quietpaw led them from their territory and directly to the Kirkyard, her paws finally moving through the forest with the grace of a Stormborn cat with every careful leap and bound. Even the few times she stumbled didn’t slow her down, the molly still moving like the gods had given her wings and the ability to float over all mortal obstacles. By the time they had made it to the moor, they were all panting lightly from the unexpected sprint and Cardinalfire shook his head.
Forgot to pace myself, he panted while Quietpaw sniffed the edge of the land.
“I smell the stench of Fenn and Shores,” she grumbled, tail lashing with open frustration. “We need to be careful.”
“Okay,” agreed the two toms.
Quietpaw immediately took off again, seemingly alternating between striding tall and unafraid in her own territory and skulking cautiously, worried about enemy warriors.
“Ugh,” complained Jackdawstripe, squinting across the wide array of grasses and brush. His ears were pulled back against his head, faced screwed up from the force of the wind. “Is it always so windy up here?”
“There aren’t enough trees to stop it,” Cardinalfire said. He was faring a bit better than his best friend, his eyes well adapted to handling the smoke from the Hearth that billowed from the cub’s clearing though the way the wind dried out his eyes still wasn’t pleasant. “I guess that’s why this is the gales.”
“The factions were named after the founders,” corrected Quietpaw. “Ours was named for Fading Gale by Nimble Breeze herself.”
“Still don’t know either of them would step onto this scraggy patch of land and think ‘wow, I sure do love the way my whiskers are whipping my muzzle!’”
“We wonder the same thing about Rumbling Storm walking into your land and deciding, ‘stars you know what would make my day? Pricking my paws on eight different thorns.’”
“Well I think you’re both crazy - ‘oh yes, let’s sleep in the cold instead of near a hearth.’” mocked Cardinalfire.
“You kingdom cats are crazy for sleeping near fire,” scoffed Quietpaw good-naturedly.
Quietpaw led the way through the brush, her amused and joking manner fading away the closer they got to the Galespun camp. The deeper they got, the worse it looked - with torn up patches of grass and dirt, broken bushes and clawmarks scraped into the various rocks and earth. Drips and spatters of dried blood became ever more visible, what Cardinalfire had initially thought were dandelion tufts dancing through the air ending up being bundles of underfur.
Cardinalfire could hardly bring himself to curse out the tangled gorse that lined the dip leading into the Galespun camp, too distracted by the clumps of blood and fur tangled in the thorns.
“Gods…” Jackdawstripe whispered, looking in horror around the camp
Cardinalfire agreed. Even if the Fenns had wanted to deny what they’d done, it was too obvious what had happened here - there was bedding scattered throughout the open camp, torn up and half trampled in front of the various little tunnels. Even more smears of blood and claw-marks gouged into the ground, this time accompanied by the scores and marks from Magpietail’s spark. He could only imagine the confusion, the raw terror that must have overwhelmed the elders as they were dragged spitting and shrieking from their den, the fear and distress of cubs as their parents fought furiously to defend them in the nursery.
Jackdawstripe nudged him, still staring in muted horror as he pointed his whiskers toward a corpse laying splayed on the ground. Cardinalfire felt his heart sink as he took in the mostly decomposed shape swarming with flies and crawling with maggots and beetles, long limbs and ears identifying the lump as a likely Galespun member. Worse, the carcass wasn’t very big even with the chunks missing, likely from scavengers coming across the body.
Quietpaw walked quietly toward the body, lowering her head to touch noses with the corpse.
“Volepaw,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry…”
Jackdawstripe slunk forward, draping his tail across her back in silent support of their friend while she grieved her faction.
Did the Shores come this far down? Did they see what was done here? They couldn’t have or else they would agree that what happened wasn’t right…
“We should bury him,” Jackdawstripe suggested. “Put his spirit to rest. Where do you bury your cats?”
Quietpaw gave a bitter laugh, “Doesn’t matter, he’s too far gone to move that far. We can bury him here, in the camp - at least he’ll still be able to see the stars.”
The toms started digging without saying anything else, just scooping out earth to create a hollow large enough for the little body. They pushed the body carefully, clearly in agreement that any movement too hard would have the body dissolving and falling to pieces like cobwebs in the rain. The hole was shallow, not nearly as deep as they would usually bury a body but the shape it was in made Cardinalfire inclined to believe the scavengers had already gotten as much as they wanted from the young tom. They took a moment to pat the small grave down, Jackdawstripe solemnly planting a stick up-right in the earth to mark the location before Quietpaw dragged herself away.
“Over here,” the molly murmured, gesturing to a tunnel that Cardinalfire knows he would’ve walked right past. “It’s an escape tunnel.”
“How come the Fenns didn’t find it?” Jackdawstripe asked, sniffing around the edge.
“There are others - so we can evacuate the whole faction at once,” she said blankly. Her tail flicked to another spot, a large pile of dirt and rocks lumped up seemingly at random. “They noticed and started collapsing tunnels. Even when there were cats in them. So many cats drowned in earth…”
A shiver ran unbidden through her body before she turned and slipped into the den.
Cardinalfire shot his abashed looking friend a scolding look - now was not the time to ask those sorts of questions - before following the slender molly into the darkened cavern.
He coughed a little as he breathed in. The scents in the camp had been so stale, so faint that without the signs of a battle, Cardinalfire could’ve been convinced that no one had lived in that little camp at all but the cavern was different. His lungs were flooded with the pungent scent of terror and fear of Galespun cats fleeing a massacre in their own home. There was more than just drops or spatters of blood here but rather, fully formed dried brown pawsteps and blood streaked across the tunnel walls like cats had been dragging their open wounds across it.
He made a strangled noise in his chest as he stepped over a tiny crushed and mutilated body - a cub trampled as the faction fled, yet another life wasted.
How long did she stay in this camp before the Fenn-patrols made it unsafe to say? Cardinalfire wondered, frazzled. How is she just walking through this like she doesn’t see it?
He was glad suddenly that no one else would see this, that none of his faction-mates would ever have to see the Galespun brought so low.
He tried to be discreet in the way he sucked in a breath of fresh, non-stale or fear drenched air when the tunnel curved upward toward the surface.
“There’s another route they could have taken but… it goes out of Empire territory,” Quietpaw noted, her tail lashing slowly with discomfort. She twisted, looking over at the two toms. “So if either of you are ready to bow out-”
“No,” said Cardinalfire said firmly, Jackdawstripe straightening up in agreement with him. “We’re going to go find them.”
“Aside from just being the right thing to do, we have friends in your faction too,” insisted Jackdawstripe. “Hornetpaw and Tumblepaw were our friends - and if… if they’re gone… well the best thing we can do is bring their kin back home.”
Quietpaw looked between the two of them and then sighed softly, an expression of relief dawning on her face.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Come on, the sun is setting so we can rest in one of the Escort Outposts.”
/ / / /
Faction Translations
Ahaliim | The cold season before it starts snowing (lit. falling eye)
Ukennva | the place where all recently caught prey is gathered to be eaten at leisure (flit. fresh-prey)
Surindi | An affectionate pet-name passed down through Jackdawstripe’s family. As the word for wren (rindi) can be used as a catch-all word for ‘seed birds’ it vaguely means ‘little seed bird’ or simply ‘little bird.’ (lit. little-wren)
Cardinalfire shoved his laughing friend, rolling his eyes as he resumed his route, pacing near the camp’s entrance. The gray furred tom wasn’t wrong for his observation after all - Cardinalfire had been utterly restless waiting for the approaching Games, but he doesn’t think anyone can blame him. Today he would be walking into the Kirkyard as a fully trained legionary of the Stormborn with Jackdawstripe at his side, finally able to participate in the spars between legionaries of other factions instead of just sitting off to the side. He wondered, briefly, if any of their friends had been promoted as well - he and Jackdawstripe were on the younger side of their batch of cadets after all and if they were promoted during the battle against the Fenns, then it would only make sense for Wetpaw and Littlepaw to have been promoted as well.
And that wasn’t even touching the situation with the Fenns themselves.
Now that Viperclaw had been chased off and the Fenns were beginning to rebuild their barracks, there was now the matter of what to do about the moor and the continued absence of the Galespun. Quietpaw deserved to have her family back if at all possible - it wasn’t fair that the Fenns would rebuild, recover and return to their former (alleged) nobility but the Gales remained lost to them.
He chanced a glance at the molly in question, kneading the ground impatiently beside Speckledholly as she waited for their Storm to give the call for them to leave.
“Stormborn,” she finally called out, striding through the throng of cats. “Let’s go!”
Cardinalfire nearly darted past her with excitement, just barely restraining himself to falling into step in the front line between Callastorm and Speckledholly; his paws falling in time with Quietpaw. He was briefly distracted by the cautious way she moved through the forest - with far more confidence than she first started out - but with still too much leg and her not dense enough fur to move comfortably.
He wondered if this was what he looked like traversing the forest - adapting just enough of the Stormborn’s tools and tricks of life to his own body to be more comfortable. Although, he was sure he felt far more at ease under the safe canopy of the storm-forest than Quietpaw, used to the open spaces and sparse tall-vegetation of the moorland.
It didn’t take long for the Kirkyard to come into view, the four massive trees in their circle swaying gently in the wind with several cats milling around beneath their branches. He would’ve chuckled if he had the breath for it - Asterdawn seemed to have mastered calling them to arrive just after the other factions without being late enough to be considered rude.
He watched her cast a glance over her party before turning back to the ridge. Cardinalfire almost expected her to pause but it seemed she’d been checking to make sure everyone could still breath, and when she was sure, she led them down the hill with Callastorm at her side.
Cardinalfire glanced around, curiously taking in the sight of the Shores and the Fenns mingling with each other. There were a couple of cadet races, some legionaries circling each other in preparation for a spar and a few veterans tangled together, likely telling battle stories. Though the Galespun’s poignant absence still left a massive gaping hole in the warmth of the meeting but the oppressive energy that Viperclaw had carried with him had finally lessened. It felt more like the first set of games he’d attended as a fresh cadet, rather than the ones just before his promotion.
“Feels good to be here as a proper legionary.”
Cardinalfire turned his head to watch Jackdawstripe fall into step beside him, with Quietpaw at his flank. That didn’t surprise him - Quietpaw had always gravitated towards him from the beginning, maybe because he was an obvious not-Stormborn cat too.
He nodded his agreement all the same, “Yeah, it’s nice. In a way.”
Jackdawstripe adopted a wry expression, “I know what you mean. The Fenns are starting to look strong again but the Gales are still…”
“Yeah,” Cardinalfire sighed. He’d noticed too - despite only half-a-moon’s time having passed, the bedraggled and starved forms with visible ribs were slowly beginning to be replaced by properly groomed fur. They were still covered in obvious scars, not a single cat of theirs present without at least torn ears and a clawed cheek but now they moved with confidence in their steps, their eyes bright and clear with raised, flicking tails.
It was nice to see after how badly they’d looked the last time Cardinalfire had been around them, but it was a bittersweet sight.
“... you can still see who the cadets are but it's harder now,” Quietpaw murmured, drawing their attention. “They still have nursery-fluff and their paws are huge but… they’re all a lot bigger now.”
“The veterans say this was how it was always supposed to be.”
They all jumped a little, turning to a familiar long furred, dark gray tom with happy yellow eyes. More notably was the slightly nervous form of a young brown tom trailing after him.
“It’s me,” he said brightly. “Wetpaw! Wetjaw now, I got promoted after the battle. So did Littlepaw, he’s Littlespore now.”
“Congratulations,” said Cardinalfire, watching Quietpaw take a cautious step back but she didn’t cringe this time. “So were we - I’m Cardinalfire now, and that’s Jackdawstripe.”
“Stripe huh?” Wetjaw remarked, he shook his head sounding amused. “Figures - you’re the most Storm cat I’ve ever met.”
“So is that your cadet?” Jackdawstripe asked, dipping down to sniff the little tom curiously.
“Yup!” said Wetjaw, proudly puffing out his chest. He gave nervous cadet a little nudge forward, to put him in easier view. He reminded Cardinalfire with a pang of Ravencroon during their first few days training. “This is Oakpaw and he’ll be the fiercest legionary ever when I’m done with him!” … it is weird though. Seeing how old I was supposed to be when I started training…”
The legionary seemed a little upset for a moment before giving himself a firm shake, as if he could physically dislodge the worries of his mind.
“When you guys get cadets, you’ll have to tell me,” said Wetjaw, changing the subject back before they could comment on it. “So Oakpaw can kick their tails.”
Cardinalfire laughed as Oakpaw adopted the expression of startled squirrel at being volunteered for a spar sometime in the future.
“Our cadets will kick Oakpaw’s tail,” Jackdawstripe jested. “Good thing you’ll have a head-start, then they’ll be on the same footing.”
Wetjaw rolled his eyes playfully, finally spotting Quietpaw watching the interaction with guarded curiosity. He paused seeming to take in her distinctly non-Stormborn build for a moment.
“Hello,” he said eventually. “Are you new to the Storms? A loner?”
“Galespun,” Quietpaw responded, cooly.
Wetjaw flinched, his ears pulling back as Oakpaw immediately darted behind his drillmaster.
“Oh.. um…” he looked between them with visible discomfort, drawing circles in the sand with the tip of her paw. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and looked back up at her, “I’m… sorry for what my faction did to yours. Even if Viperclaw was our leader… it was… wrong of us to do that.”
Quietpaw watched him, seeming to evaluate the sincerity of his apology.
“...it wasn’t okay,” Quietpaw said finally, her long tail swishing slowly. “But it wasn’t your fault either. You were just a cadet - a way too young cadet.”
“...yeah,” Wetjaw agreed, seeming relieved. “I guess I was.”
“Well… “ Jackdawstripe coughed, breaking the the tension with an awkward smile. He glanced towards Cardinalfire, flicking his tail towards a group of cats all gathered together in various pairs seemingly waiting for something. “You were talking about doing a legionary’s spar, right? Well, that one looks ready to start.”
“We’ll cheer you on,” Wetjaw called after him as Cardinalfire bid a hasty thanks and darted over to the cat who seemed to be in charge of it all. He vaguely recognized the muscular Shorerisen tom as Loudbelly from a previous Gathering.
The large brown tom gestured over to a lone, silvery-blue furred molly who seemed to be waiting for an opponent of her own, “Over there.”
Cardinalfire gave him a quick nod of thanks and trotted eagerly over to the clearing, standing across from the imposing molly who offered him a light smirk. He could hardly stand still with anticipation running through his nerves, the sight of Jackdawstripe, Wetjaw and Quietpaw all sitting to the side ready to watch his first battle as a full legionary of the Stormborn. Stars, be was nervous - he didn’t want to embarrass Asterdawn after she’d put so much time into training him and he just knew Jackdawstripe was over there talking him up from the way he was whispering to the cats beside him.
He sized up his opponent as best as he could - as he was wearily beginning to accept was standard, the blue furred molly was far larger than he was. Her ears were small and round - with this being a claws sheathed spar, there was no point in targeting them. Her paws were small and round too - probably a Shorecat who was used to using her paws in quick, decisive manners.
Prioritize speed then, Cardinalfire thought determinedly.
“Ready?” Loudbelly prompted the entire group, looking among the various cats tensing up for their spars. “Begin!”
Cardinalfire immediately jumped to the right as the molly before him hardly waited a second after the call to lunge for his. She seemed to have expected his dodge though, lashing out as quickly as thought and caught his paws. He yelped, slamming face-first into the ground as she tricked him. He groaned a little but reacted quickly, lashing out and striking her muzzle when she went in for a nip. She yelped while he took the moment to scramble back to his paws, trying to summon everything he remembered from ‘sparring’ with Asterdawn.
The molly recovered quickly from his light swat, darting forth, seemingly aiming for his shoulders. Cardinalfire quickly sprung out of the way of the attack, allowing her to crash heavily into the ground and promptly pounced on her. It was a bold move to try a pin with his smaller size but he’d learned how to deal with that too, digging his paw into her throat in such a way that if she tried to wiggle, it would just make the pressure worse.
She squirmed a bit, putting his move to the rest only to wince and release a faint wheeze. A moment later, her tail gave a firm thump.
“Winner uh-”
“Cardinalfire.”
“Winner, Cardinalfire!”
He immediately burst into a purr of triumph immediately stepping off of the molly under impressed eyes of Loudbelly before the tom turned to watch the few remaining spars that hadn’t ended yet. He received a few nods of approval from those watching while the molly shook her head, taking in a deep breath.
“Nice trick there kit,” the molly wheezed, chuckling a little. “You hit like a stag.”
“I’m glad I worked it out - everyone is so much bigger than me,” Cardinalfire admitted, earning a few laughs of agreement from those in earshot. “You were so fast - every time I turned around, you were in my face again.”
The molly laughed, “Yeah I still got it. You’re young but in time, you’ll be just as fast. You joining in for another round?”
“No, I just wanted to test my paws,” Cardinalfire reassured. “My nose is bruised enough. Thank you for the match!”
The molly chuckled as he turned to leave, “May the Souls light your path, Cardinalfire!”
He bounded towards his friends immediately, weaving through the cats walking by to Jackdawstripe and Quietpaw. It seemed that Wetjaw had left not long after he’d defeated his opponent given Cardinalfire had seen him cheer for his win but his friends had been joined by another familiar, silvery coat.
“Hey Osierpaw!” he called out. “Did you see my spar?”
“Osierstream now,” the molly purred, lifting her head with smug pride. “And I only caught the end - you were pretty great out there though!”
“Thanks!” Cardinalfire said, flicking his tail. “How’d you get your name? We got ours chasing Viperclaw out.”
“Another cadet disturbed a nest of geese by the river,” the molly explained, puffing up in pride for her accomplishments. “They came swarming our diving patrol - we chased off most of them but one just kept going after the cadet. So I jumped on it and slammed its head into the river! I thought it would’ve kept attacking when it was free but I must’ve scared it good because it took off immediately.”
She flicked her ear smugly, “I had my ceremony the moment we went back to camp.”
“That’s so cool!” Jackdawstripe said enthusiastically, and Cardinalfire could see that even Quietpaw seemed impressed by the story.
“That was so brave of you,” Cardinalfire agreed. “I can’t believe you faced off against a goose!”
“I heard you went fang to fang with Viperclaw himself,” Osierstream pointed out.
“Give me an evil tyrant any day - geese are the real horrors upon the land.”
He took pride in the way he’d gotten even Quietpaw to chuckle quietly to herself.
“Now that the spar’s over, what should we do now?” Wetjaw inquired. “We’re legionaries now so I don’t think we can do any of the games anymore…”
“There are legionary games but I’m not in the mood for one,” Osierstream says. “Some cats get really competitive.”
“We could go listen to a story,” Cardinalfire suggested earning a good-natured groan from his best friend.
“From the elders? On purpose?” inquired Osierstream.
“Those stories are interesting,” Quietpaw defended.
“I better step up my game or you’ll steal my place as Cardinalfire’s best friend,” Jackdawstripe laughed, offering a hearty shove that nearly knocked the thinner cadet to the ground. “Cardinalfire is a real ant-brain, always working and wanting to listen to the old stories. The elders love him.”
“Count me out,” Wetjaw said, though his whiskers were twitching with open amusement. “Oakpaw hasn’t done any of the games yet and as his drillmaster, it’s my duty to make sure that his first gathering is a success.”
Oakpaw shuffled a little, averting his eyes shyly from the newfound attention landing on him, “It’s okay… we don’t have to…”
“I saw you eying the tree-climbing races,” Wetjaw denied, taking a paw and prodding his cadet to his paws to stand beside him. He stretched himself. Extending his legs out in front of him with a low ‘mrrr’ before he straightened up again, beckoning for the younger tom to follow him. “You sat here and listened to me talk to my friends and watch Cardinalfire’s spar so we’ll do something you want to do now - bye you guys!”
“Bye Wetjaw!” Cardinalfire called after him with the others, waving his tail as the two cats were swallowed up by the shifting crowd. “He’s a good drillmaster.”
“I’ll say, Ripplepelt would’ve had me sitting there for the rest of the gathering,” Osierstream half-complained. “Alright Cardinalfire, let’s go find your stories.”
She stood up, leading the way over to a slightly shaded area where a collection of elders were gathered together. They sat close to each other, talking among each other and sharing tongues - Cardinalfire was briefly surprised to see Elkear laughing raspily alongside who he recognized as a Fennyield elder, Spidercloud. He tilted his head a little - it was good to see that the elder was capable of enjoying himself sometimes. He even seemed to be in a rarely seen ‘good mood,’ something proven when he twitched his whiskers in a friendly manner towards them.
“Jackdawstripe, Cardinalfire - what brings you youngsters over here?”
“Cardinalfire wants to hear more stories,” Jackdawstripe said dryly.
Spidercloud laughed as Elkear straighted up a little more, visibly pleased, “Your friends could learn a thing or two from you softy - Souls knows I can only wish other young legionaries were as interested in our history as you are.”
“Well the stories are interesting,” Cardinalfire said, eagerness to hear more tales making it easier to brush off the comment of ‘softy.’
“Well what do you want to hear youngster?” Spidercloud inquired, tucking her paws beneath herself as she got comfortable.
“Do you have any about the Souls?” Cardinalfire asked.
“Of course,” Elkear proclaimed, puffing his chest out a bit smugly. “How about a Stormborn tale, about the birth of the Treewalkers?”
“I haven’t heard that one,” Osierstream mused, settling down beside Jackdawstripe and Cardinalgfire.
“It’s not a story often told outside of the Storms since the treewalkers have faded,” Elkear explained and began the tale.
It all started with a young cadet named Copperpaw - excited, intelligent and determined to become a valorant no matter what. He put his entire heart into his training, practicing longer and harder than anyone else in his den. He was the most skillful fighter, the most alert patroller and offered advice to any other cadet who’d asked - by all accounts, he was a perfect cadet with one, glaring flaw.
Hunting.
Despite his swift and quick reflexes in battle, he could never catch a squirrel before it had sprung out fo reach. Despite his careful, gentle stalking in training, the mice always sensed his pawsteps. He was clever and intelligent but birds always seemed a feather ahead of him. For a cadet that seemed skilled beyond measure in every other area, it was frustrating both to him and his drillmaster that for some reason, he just couldn’t master the art of hunting.
“You need to be more focused,” his drillmaster would scold him day after day. “Hunting should be easy for you! You are a skilled fighter, a skilled tracker, a swift runner - I don’t understand why this is so hard for you!”
“I don’t know either,” Copperpaw would say.
It became common for the cadet to attempt to train by himself, practicing until he dropped from exhaustion in the middle of the forest. It was during one of these recovery moments, listening to the whispering of the trees and rustling of the plant-life that he was approached by a bushy-tailed red squirrel. He didn’t even make an attempt at pouncing on it, or preparing to do so - he already knew it would make its escape from beneath his claws like every other creature he’d ever tried to catch.
“Why are you so sad?” it asked.
And Copperpaw blinked but answered honestly all the same, “I’m such a poor hunter that I’ll never be a legionary. My drillmaster is shamed by inability to catch even a mouse or a sparrow - I don’t know what’s wrong with me or why I can’t hunt.”
“I can help you,” the squirrel said. “I see you climb, you are a natural. I can teach you to make tree-climbing into a hunting skill.”
“Why would you do that? I would be hunting your kin.”
“A cat hunts a squirrel and devours it. Then Slysoul comes and reaps the cat, leaving his body for Treesoul to turn to the soil, grass and seed. Then the seed is consumed by the squirrel and the cycle repeats again.”
Copperpaw accepted the squirrel’s offer that same night and began his secret training. The struggles and tribulations he often faced with hunting on the ground were rendered moot when he was in the trees, his skills and talents being used in a new way. A moon’s time came and went as he learned to race through the trees as if he were a squirrel himself and then finally, came Copperpaw’s next hunting-final.
His drillmaster watched as his cadet searched the forest far and wide, eventually catching up with a sparrow flapping its wings in the grass. Rather than approach it directly, the cadet clambered up a nearby tree and his drillmaster watched in amazement as he stalked just above it, a stick dislodging and falling down beside the feathered creature.
With a cry of alert, the bird tried to escape into the air but Copperpaw had anticipated that, leaping into the air and catching the bird as he landed on another branch in the canopy with a triumphant trill.
“Copperpaw,” Elkear rumbled, likely imitating the voice of the leader of the Stormborn at the time, “From this day on, you shall be known as Copperbranch for the new way of hunting shown to you by Slysoul herself. May you teach others the art of treewalking - and that is how treewalkers came to the Stormborn.”
“Woah,” breathed Osierstream, sitting back from where she’d unconsciously leaned in during the story. “That’s incredible! I’ve never met a treewalker before, do they have to stay in the camp?”
“I’ve never seen any,” Jackdawstripe disagreed.
“As I said, the treewalkers have long since faded,” Elkear said sadly. “Most Storms nowadays are too heavy to run along the smaller branches and without drillmasters, cadets were getting seriously injured. After one fell and permanently damaged their own legs, the skill was declared dead and that no others were to train in it.”
“Oh,” said Osierstream, ears drooping. “That’s… sad.”
“Every faction has gained and lost ranks as their territories and the cats within them have changed,” Elkear confirmed.
“Skills come and go as a faction’s needs change,” Spdercloud explained. “Slysoul showed the Storms to treewalk because they needed it - then as they grew larger, they were able to tackle larger prey and thus, it became unnecessary. It’s said that long ago, we Fenns used to only hunt on the dry patches of territory but as the marsh spread, we lost more and more hunting territory - so Slysoul whispered to our anaconda about a new way to hunt, and birthed the rank of murkers.”
“I wonder of the Shores have lost any skills,” Osierstream pondered aloud. “I’d never considered we had other ranks… I guess I just assumed it we’ve always had the ones we do now.”
“I suppose it probably is different to hunt mice in the Fenns than in the Stormborn,” said Jackdawstripe.
“Think of all the water,” Cardinalfire agreed, paw twitching reflexively at the memory of the squishy mud between his toes. “They probably don’t have a lot of easily caught mice - but maybe water shrews on the other paw…”
“Water shrews, ducks and voles,” purred Spidercloud in agreement. “Most of us wouldn’t even know what to do with Stormborn territory anymore - the ground is too dry and the bushes are too thick.”
“And we’ve no use to land that’s always wet with no low branches,” Elkear said.
“And as a diver I wouldn’t know to do with either territory,” Osierstream said confidently. “You Fenns have water but not enough water - and there’s too much brush on Stormborn land.”
“Every faction has been sculpted to fit their territory,” Spidercloud claimed, giving a firm lash of her tail. “One of Viperclaw’s biggest mistakes was attempting to force our cats to hunt in land we’re no longer suited for. Moonsoul allowed the Gales to live on the moor and that should’ve been the end of it.”
Cardinalfire pondered on her words as he looked around the clearing at the cats surrounding him, noting the little differences, the little changes in every cat faction-to-faction. That molly he’d sparred with probably had small ears to minimize drag and her thick tail was probably for steering. Spidercloud sitting with them had long, slender legs like Quietpaw though the fur on her legs was thinner and shorter than the rest of her pelt.
His eyes were drawn to Leopardshine, the powerful Shorerisen lieutenant in possession of a thick but short, glossy coat that likely kept her warm but also helped her swim. She also had the small, sort of rounded ears that he was realizing were common-place of the Shorerisen. His eyes drifted a bit further over to the cat she was talking to, Tigerslash with his big, broad form and thick, double-layered coat that would protect his skin from the various thorns and branches that entangled their territory.
His eyes lingered on the two cats, slightly surprised by how close they were sitting together.
Leopardshine was usually sharp-tongued and short-tempered whenever they crossed paths with her on a dawn patrol and Tigerslash was well-known for his distaste of anyone that wasn’t the Stormborn. He would’ve thought they’d be more hostile towards each other, barely restraining barbed remarks but they Leopardshine was laughing at whatever he’d said and Cardinalfire could almost make out a smirk on the burly tom’s face.
Huh.
He supposes that even selfish, murderous pricks can have friends.
“The buckers are back,” Jackdawstripe called out, breaking him from his somewhat bitter thoughts. “And it’s a big one!”
Cardinalfire twisted around to follow his gaze and grinned in agreement - it sure wasn’t a full sized deer, but it had to be older than a yearling with its long, long legs and the beginnings of an impressive set of antlers on its head with only two tines. The buckers marched in pridefully, a mostly ginger tortoiseshell molly who Osierstream called ‘Ottersplash’ holding it by the throat while Naddertail followed at the rear, clutching the tail in her mouth while a Fennyield cat he didn’t recognize supported it from the center.
“I am going to bug mom so hard about this story,” Jackdawstripe said gleefully, watching the hunters drop their impressive catch and begin sectioning it off to share.
“That means the meeting is coming to an end,” Cardinalfire remarked, peeking up to the Great Rock and confirming two leaders were already perched on the edge.
“And I have to get back to the Shorerisen’s side of things,” Osierstream said, taking a moment to stretch the sleepy feeling from her muscles, flexing her claws before stand back up. She ran her tail over Cardinalfire’s back fondly, then nuzzled Jackdawstripe’s cheek with open affection. “I’ll see you both later - and good luck with getting cadets!”
The two toms shouted their goodbyes to her as Spidercloud rose to her paws, moving to join the rest of her faction as well while Elkear merely turned to watch the leaders as a familiar pelt leapt up onto the rock into view of the entire empire.
“Nightrattle?” Jackdawstripe gawked in surprise.
“It makes sense I guess,” said Cardinalfire said, watching as their Storm obligingly moved over and allowed the elder to settle in beside her. “He was the one who agreed to bring us in - the Fenns must’ve decided he was a decent enough leader.”
“Nettleflower is sitting with the deputies too,” remarked Jackdawstripe, purring a little when a portion of the deer was finally passed to him. Cardinalfire could see her, sitting between Callastorm and Leopardshine at the base of the Great Rock. “Maybe because she fought Viperclaw directly?”
“Maybe,” agreed Cardinalfire, leaning in to steal a bite from his friend as he tuned into the meeting as the speech ended.
“Which faction would like to speak first?”
“We,” declared Asterdawn.
“Then the Stormborn may have the moon.”
Asterdawn quickly stepped forward, claiming the pool of moonlight and turning silvery gray in turn, her muscular form only highlight by the shadows and light dancing off of her, “The Stormborn find ourselves prosperous with two new cadets in Wolfpaw and Lynxpaw!”
Cardinalfire was happy to cheer along with the rest of the crowd for the two, embarrassed but proud looking cadets and their equally pleased looking drillmasters.
“We’ve also made two new legionaries in Cardinalfire and Jackdawstripe!”
He raised his head proudly as Jackdawstripe ducked his head a bit sheepishly to their cries of congratulations - much to his delight, he even saw a few faces of approval, faces who had seen his spar with the Shorerisen molly. He’d have to make sure he participated in more spars - what a convenient way to earn respect and acknowledgement from the other factions without actually putting anyone at risk.
Asterdawn took a deep breath as the cheers died down continuing, “In less fortunate news, we’ve lost Lionbelly our lieutenant and Ravenpaw our diplomat cadet. Callastorm is now recognized as the new lieutenant of the Stormborn and though Ravenpaw did not come back to us, he ascended as Ravencroon - may they both watch us from the stars and know they are honored.”
Cardinalfire felt a pang in his chest as he watched the startled, devastated looks cross the faces of various cats among the factions. Lionbelly had been a friendly, noble and gentle giant - in the brief time he’d gotten to know him, Cardinalfire had come to see the tom as something of an older-brother, a viewpoint he was aware that many cats throughout the factions had agreed with. He’d been popular, teasing and wrestling with the cadets and a good sport if he’d ever lost a spar with the other lieutenants.
As for Ravencroon, it hadn’t taken Cardinalfire long to realize that diplomat cadets were rare. It wasn’t common for young cubs to aspire to become a diplomat, comfortable or at least willing to learn to be comfortable with talking to cats from other factions or even non-cats. More over, they had to have a certain disposition or at least lack a few key-traits to keep them from making a situation worse than it already was. As he understood, Larkwing had been without a cadet for a long while before Ravencroon had shyly requested to train under him and as far as he he could, there wasn’t a cub in the Stormborn yet that was willing to take his place. Cubs weren’t allowed to be forced into a role or position they didn’t want to take, so Larkwing would have to hold out as best as he could until he got another. If the diplomat got sick, the faction would be in a frenzy, not having anyone to train a new diplomat if he got sick.
And what if things came to war? Cardinalfire wondered gloomily as everyone around him began crying their names to the skies. He exchanged a somber look with Jackdawstripe, wondering if they were thinking the same things.
If Larkwing died, should we get Ravencroon? Cardinalfire wondered to himself. It would put him in danger, especially if we don’t have proof against Tigerslash yet. …but would it be right to let the faction suffer without him?
He hopes he never has to make that choice.
After the cheers had quieted down, Asterdawn’s voice became strong again, adding, “In other news, the Stormborn assisted the Fennyield in chasing out Viperclaw and his elites, freeing them from his tyranny. That said, he and his elites are still at large - Viperclaw also appears to have intentions of getting revenge.”
Cardinalfire tactfully hid his smirk behind his paw, cleaning the blood of his snack from his muzzle. His mother would be pleased if she’d seen that clever play - clearly, his Storm had noticed the Fennyield’s rapid recovery and had taken the steps to reminding them of why they were now healed. The Fennyield now owed them a debt for stepping in and not only saving their pelts, but for not taking more furious action against them for their attempted cub-napping of Frostfang’s kits. If the Fenns turned their backs on them, the Souls and the Skies at least would know that the Stormborn remained honorable.
“Asterdawn is correct,” Nightrattle accepted the implied debt easily, stepping into the moonlight to wordlessly take his turn as his Storm stepped back. “The Stormborn were instrumental in the liberation of our noble faction, alongside our acting lieutenant Nettleflower who revealed his secret crimes against our own faction.”
He paused allowing a cheer to go up for Nettleflower, who merely raised her chin with a passive expression of satisfaction.
“That said, we have declared the crimes Viperclaw committed to be severe and as a faction, we have decided that his name, honored and in the name of the Souls should be changed.”
“I agree,” Asterdawn hummed immediately. “That tom took advantage of the loyalty offered to him by his faction willfully, he chose not to lead with honor but with fear.”
“He was hardly a leader at all,” the Styrman, Stormdrift growled.
“It is with this in mind that I believe that his name shall be voided and instead, he be deemed Scornedclaw - for the harm he dealt out to his very own faction.”
“I have no objections,” said Asterdawn, a sentiment echoed by Stormdrift.
“Then under the eye of Moonsoul, it is so,” Nightrattle declared solemnly. “In brighter, kinder news - we have two new legionaries in Littlespore and Wethaw, alongside two new cadets in Oakpaw and Brownpaw.”
Cardinalfire cheered for his friends, wishing he could’ve bumped into Littlespore at least once during this meeting. He’d wanted to see if he’d gotten any bigger, or what new scars he had like Wetjaw but he supposed he’d have to wait until the next meeting.
Seemingly finished with his own news, Nightrattle stepped back and allowed the last leader - Stormdrift - to step into the moonlight.
“The Shorerisen are pleased to hear of Scornedclaw’s ousting - his greed and false-command of the Souls threatened all the factions,” the large tom began. “It is a good omen that he is gone - and with that, the Shorerisen shall reclaim the patch of land he took for us.”
Nightrattle frowned at this, “The Fennyield have the same needs as it did before.”
“You shouldn’t attempt to keep territory granted under threat of a camp invasion that would endanger a faction’s cub,” Stormdrift said firmly, meeting the other leader’s eyes without flinching. The two leaders stared each other down for a moment, hackles raised and fur on their necks slightly bristled at the silent argument being waged before all the factions.
Finally, Nightrattle sighed and broke eye-contact.
“I accept the Shorerisen’s reclamation of that land,” he said. “We still have the uplands after all.”
“What?” Cardinalfire snarled furiously, Quietpaw leaping angrily to her paws beside him and Jackdawstripe.
“The Galespun need to be returned to their territory,” Asterdawn retorted sharply.
“Why?” demanded Stormdrift, earning a shocked and disgusted expression from Asterdawn. Cardinalfire stood with his best friend, quickly following Quietpaw as she began shouldering her way to the front of the crowd. “They were chased off, they gave up their land and left.”
“Because they were killing us you greedy-faced bastards!” Quietpaw roared up, bristled like a porcupine.
The meeting fell silent as Cardinalfire and Jackdawstripe stood on either side of the molly, protecting her from anyone who would want to defend her leader - although, Cardinalfire noticed that Nettleflower was glowering up mutinously at her leader.
Was she not consulted about this possibility? Cardinalfire wondered.
“Who are you?” Nightrattle demanded.
“I am Quietpaw of the Galespun, the cats you heartless boar-bellies invaded in our camp, who were ripped out of our nests in our sleep, whose monarchs were chased from the nursery by your cats,” she seethed as Nightrattle froze in place, seemingly unprepared to face one of the cats his faction had wronged. “You and your legionaries tried to kill us all! We retreated to save the lives of our elders, our monarchs, our cubs and you think because of that you can just keep our home?!”
“The river is flush with fish, the banks holding plentiful eggs,” Asterdawn said cooly, glaring at the Shorerisen leader before her gaze turned to the Fennyield one. “And my legionaries have hardly reported hide nor fur of Fennyield hunters in the moor, yet you’re all glossy, muscular and well-fed. Speak as the Souls judge your words, why do either of you need the moor mor than a faction full of cats displaced through the will of a tyrant?”When neither leader said anything, nor were they willing to meet her icy stare, Asterdawn concluded, “As I thought. Do not let greed blind you to what is right and just - The Galespun must be returned to their land and reparations made for the cruelty that ended with them being chased out to begin with.”
There was no response, not a sight or even the shuffling signifying that someone was there. He couldn’t even find it himself to heave a sigh as Briarflutter took his non-answer as permission to enter his den, the flutterseer’s pawsteps echoing in the dug-out cavern for leaders.
“Magpie, you can’t just lie here forever.”
“...”
The healer sighed and moved closer, walking around so Magpietail could see his paws in the limited light of the den. There must be a crack somewhere - he’d have to get some mud to paste it over. He couldn’t stand to be in the sunlight, he didn’t deserve to be in the sunlight after what he’d almost done. After what he’d actually done. Pale yellow eyes stared blankly as a small stack of herbs were dropped in front of his muzzle, the names and their uses twisting out of the grasp of his mind.
“Magpie,” his friend said, in tone gentler than he deserved. “Hey, I get it. Talking is probably a lot right now. Do you think you can at least move your ears? Show me you can hear me.”
Briarflutter was a good healer and a better friend than Magpietail would ever deserve - so he flicked his left ear, knowing the bob-tailed tom would sit there waiting for the sun to rise if he didn’t say anything.
“Good,” Briarflutter said, satisfaction in his tone. “Then can you tell me why you’ve been leaving managing the entire faction to Deadfeather?”
Magpietail couldn’t suppress the slight wince that emerged reflexively, tucking his tail closer to himself. As soon as they’d… come home, he’d entered his den and not emerged since. He vaguely remembers his lieutenant badgering him for a bit, rattling off an injury report of their legionaries and those who were injured of Nightrattle’s cats before seeming to grow frustrated by his lack of a reaction. He’d called out to him a few more times after that but Magpietail never responded and he assumed the tom had given up.
“...that’s his job,” Magpietail murmured into his forepaws. “Leading when I can’t.”
“Yes, when you can’t,” agreed Briarflutter. “Not when you won’t. So again, why are you leaving everything to Deadfeather who has a mate and a sicky cub to look after?”
“I-” Magpietail’s mouth went dry as a new form of guilt washed over him. How… had he forgotten? Before all of this, his lieutenant had brought it up, talked about he and Ashfeather’s family - how his lieutenant had even brought up stepping down so he’d have more time for them to be more present for Ashfeather who was still in such a bad place after losing her other cubs when they were driven out. His claws sank into the barren earth beneath him, catching on the remains of the nest he’d angrily left in a misshapen heap outside of the den. “I- I’m a terrible leader Bri…”
“You had a lapse in judgement Maggie-”
“I attacked him,” Magpietail blurted out, slammed him paws atop his head as the feelings of horror and disgust that he’d been trying to avoid clawed through him like a rabid hawk’s talons. Cardinalfire’s faced played on an infinite loop in his mind, Hreto’s ruddy red coat pinned to the ground beneath hs paws not bothering to fight back. Vivid green eyes lacking any hint of anger or fury, just resignation as he braced himself for claws he expected Magpietail to deal against him and the gripping realization that he might have gone through with it, that he hadn’t recognized him.
His face was just a bit softer, with less angles and more curves than Hreto’s but all it had done was make him look young. And in that moment, all he could see was his dead mate’s face, his eyes, his expression of disappointment.
I knew you weren’t a bad cat Mags.
“You were wrong!” Magpietail cried, his claws sinking into his skull. “You were wrong Hreto! I’m awful! I attacked him, I attacked your son!”
How could he not have recognized him? How?! Ever since he’d first laid eyes on that tom, he’d known - remembered the tiny, squealing body that had been pressed against Iyera’s chest when he went to visit. He’d known since he saw the courage in his heart when he defended one of his own elders even though he was visibly terrified of being on the deer-trail. He’d always known, the world had never hidden it - that was Hreto’s son and Magpie had almost-
“That’s enough of that.”
He was startled out his dark spiral by a firm lick to his nose, befuddlement immediately filling him as he stared indignantly at Briarflutter who had - at some point - crouched down in front of him.
“Did you just-?” he began.
“It worked didn’t it?” Briarflutter said, whiskers twitching with open amusement at his offense. His expression softened again and he shuffled forward a little, pressing the tips of his toes against Magpietail’s, a soothing purr beginning to rumble from him. “Can you match my breath?”
“I- a-alright,” Magpietail agreed shakily, mention bringing his attention to how his chest was stuttering. He tried to emulate Briarflutter’s deliberately slow breathes, shakily taking in a slow breath and struggling not to expel all of his air at once.
“Good, good, thank you for trying,” Briarflutter said soothingly. “Now, I need you to listen to me, can you do that?”
Magpietail bobbed his head awkwardly.
“Good. Now, let’s start out with the obvious - you did mess up this time,” Briarflutter said, and though his tone was gentle and lacked judgement, the words themselves still made Magpietail cringe. “You didn’t listen to Deadfeather or any of the heads when they told you the raid was a bad idea. And now, you’re hiding in your den refusing to eat or drink and making dirt right next to the same corner you’ve been sleeping in. You’ve abandoned your clans for half a moon now.”
“Half… No- no it’s only a couple days,” Magpietail stammered.
“Magpietail, the next meeting is only around four sunrises away,” Briarflutter said bluntly, dropping the leader into a cold river. “You’ve been in here, hiding in the dark and wallowing for most of the moon and leaving your factionmates to try working around you.”
“...I’m sorry,” he muttered hoarsely. “I-I hadn’t realized so much time had passed…”
“Obviously,” said Briarflutter. “But that’s okay, everyone knew how much Hreto meant to you. And… Morningflower saw what caused all of this. The faction understands.”
How humiliating, Magpietail thought to himself. He dropped his eyes to his paws in shame - here he was, sulking in his den like a petulant cub. Plenty of other cats have seen their kin attacked in battle, he hadn’t even really laid a claw on Cardinalfire but… he shuddered at the idea of having gone through with it, nausea abruptly rocking his empty belly.
“...how can any cat possibly respect me after all of this,” he rasped tiredly. “Gods… will Cardinalfire ever forgive me for this?”
“You’ve definitely wandered astray these last few days Magpie but no cat is without their flaws,” the healer pointed out. “Grief is a terrifying beast and yet, he is what keeps us safe from Amberspirit’s clawed grasp. You realized you were wrong, you stopped and you called for retreat.”
He extended his right paw, flipping it over to show the gentle, pink pads and left it open to him.
“You’re trying to do everything all on your own again and punishing yourself when it gets too much. It didn’t work when we were cadets and it’s certainly not working now,” Briarflutter told him. “The first step is realizing you messed up. The next is trying to make amends.”
Magpietail took in another deep breath and was surprised when it came out slowly, evenly. His claws had slipped back into their sheathes and he could feel his tail swishing in the slow, passive way it always did when he was attempting to sit still. At some point, he’d calmed down and suddenly he was aware of… everything. The rank stench of dirt buried under the scraps of his nest that he was surprised Briarflutter wasn’t cringing from, the way his skin twitched from his fur sticking out in every direction, the crusts in his eyes, the agitated rumbling of his empty stomach and a pounding headache paired with his dry mouth.
“...ugh…” he groaned.
“Finally feeling it all huh?” the healer chuckled. “So Magpie, what do you say?”
“...I’m ready to start apologizing,” Magpietail said quietly, placing his paw shakily atop of Briarflutter’s. “And thanks for not giving up on me.”
“You’re my friend before you’re my leader Maggie,” he said, then adopted a slightly teasing expression. “First though - you need a bath. In the river.”
Magpietail opened his mouth to argue reflexively, thinking about how freezing cold the river probably was now that they were (apparently) entering the colder seasons only to pause. He twisted to put his nose in his flank and sniffed.
A short furred ticked russet tom with pale green eyes, Quiveringheart was first named for his weak body and weaker immune-system. The first moon of Quiveringkit’s life was spent in the healer’s den being monitored and attended to as his breathing regularly faltered in his sleep. Eventually his lungs became stronger, his gaze clearer and he was freed from the medic’s den. The clan had been under the impression that Quiveringkit would eventually become a model ShadowClan warrior when he survived where his sister didn’t. They were immediately disappointed when the russet tom never became what they wanted.
He’s very anxious and guilt-stricken, believing most truly that he’s the reason for his parents splitting up as a kit. He feels immense pressure from his father to be a good warrior to be proud of. One of the most heartbreaking events of his life was his father turning away from him, choosing to step back from his life even after he turned six moons old. Quiveringpaw was forced to listen to the whispers and rumors the clan created about him and the scathing remarks that he was what happened when a father shirked his duty to his kits.
His life only started really looking up when he officially moved into the apprentice's den. He was already vaguely familiar with his old denmates but he only became super close to Marrowpaw and Thistlepaw when he started training as a crafter. It was like he gained a brother and a sister overnight, two cats willing to protect him from the whispers and the rumors no matter what. To top it all off, his mentor - Sunstone - turned out to be one of the nicest cats he'd ever met. She was patient, gentle and kind; uncaring when he stammeringly asked questions and guided his paws through weaving.
Quiveringheart has a powerful metabolism that keeps him from gaining much weight - he rarely if ever puts on even a thin layer of fat. This would seem like just a minor point except it affects every aspect of his life - without a fat layer, all impacts when fighting hurt much more and have higher chances of thoroughly injuring him. He’s always at least vaguely hungry, there’s almost never enough food in the clan for him to feel full. When he was younger, some of the older cats shamed him for constantly eating so now he overcompensates in the opposite direction, frequently starving himself so as not to take food from more deserving cats.
Absent Minded Worldbuilding regarding clan patrols from a bit back;
thunderclan tries to have all mandatory out of camp activities done by sunhigh as that's when all of their predators start getting active. dusk patrols are especially dangerous in the summer due to all the active predators
shadowclan only starts getting active around sunset - both because they prefer the night to pay homage to their founder and because living in a marsh with high trees, the only ground-prey they have come out at night + it's really muggy
For riverclan it's always a bit muggy because they live on an island - this plus them having the second least-shaded territory means they prefer to perform tasks when the sun is a its coolest (dawn and dusk)
windclan's primary prey sources are almost never out at night - without almost zero overhead coverage from the elements or a stray hawk or eagle, their prey is always out at dawn through daylight and vanish after that. it's also extremely cold in the winter so night-patrols damn-near non-existent once snow hits the ground. escorts are trained to tolerate the extremes but even they tend to stay at the outposts
