Spark the Light - Chapter 3: The Hunt for the Galespun
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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“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.”
“No, it’s okay,” Cardinalfire tells him. “I don’t mind.”
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.”
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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.”
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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)
Sivake Translations
Ka mamanku | I’m (currently) exhausted
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