Love is not in the air this moon; Billowhaze and Wolfgaze have a huge fight over how much time Wolfgaze sets aside for their relationship and break up. Meanwhile, Yellowburst finally acts on her kithood crush toward Thundergale and fails miserably.
[Image ID: Billowhaze yowls at Wolfgaze, "How am I supposed to feel important when you're… you?" Under Billowhaze, it says - MATE: WOLFGAZE. Under Wolfgaze, it says - MATE: BILLOWHAZE. In the back, Thundergale walks away from Yellowburst.]
(Billowhaze: 37, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)
(Wolfgaze: 37, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)
(Thundergale: 34, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)
(Yellowburst: 33, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)
Dovefur spends his vigil contemplating the true nature of Clan life and his role in the Clan. The next morning, he quietly asks Shrewflame to help him learn caretaker skills as he continues his warrior duties.
[Image ID: Dovefur is now an adult. Under him, it reads LEVEL UP! DOVEPAW → DOVEFUR, OBLIVIOUS → COMPASSIONATE, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GREAT KITSITTER. Shrewflame says to him, "Yellowburst wanted to get out of kit sitting today… could you help?"]
(Dovefur: 12, male, warrior, compassionate, great kitsitter)
(Shrewflame: 26, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)
Midnightpaw eavesdrops on Oilstar and wonders if he will ever able to care for himself.
[Image ID: Midnightpaw listens to Oilstar and Anchovystrike while Wolverineheart approaches him from behind.]
---
Midnightpaw was starting to lose it. The bandage that always seemed to cover the left side of his face irritated his skin, leaving him perpetually scratching at his scars. He begged Anchovystrike to let him go hunting, or patrolling, or anything that would get him out of camp, but his mentor put him down at every turn, leaving him to scrape by with the teachers in camp. It was so unfair! Midnightpaw could almost hear Valleypaw in the back of his mind, chastizing him for risking the recovery of his vision over a bit of boredom. Valleypaw got to enjoy perpetual hunting and fun in StarClan, so maybe he could back off.
Yep. Midnightpaw was losing his mind.
"Thank you for collecting the ashes, Midnight," Rattlepelt purred as she scooped said ashes into a pot of water and salt. "We'll let the skins soak in this solution, then scrap off the excess hair."
"And then we use the dung?" Midnightpaw groaned, poking at the stripped hides that sat at his feet.
"Don't worry," Rattlepelt chuckled, giving Midnightpaw a lick on the head. "I won't make you clean out the dirtplace for that. The caretakers get to do that." Rattlepelt winked as she grabbed a mouse hide and dropped it in the pot.
As Rattlepelt tried to include her son in her work, Midnightpaw's eye drifted around camp. There was still no snow, even though the older cats all insisted it would come any day now. Instead, it seemed like a gray autumn, where afternoon patrols and duties attempted to squeeze color back into camp. Everyone was focused on their duties, as had been the routine since RippleClan got back into their camp. It seemed like any cat with even a whisker of skill with leatherwork was busy crafting long pelts and leather flooring, replacing whatever was still wrecked from the flood.
"We just let that sit for now," Rattlepelt sighed, dumping the last pelt into the mixture. "I won't keep you any longer, Midnightpaw."
"Please keep me longer," Midnightpaw begged, front paws pressing against Rattlepelt's shoulder. "I have nothing to do!"
"Anchovystrike still hasn't taken you on patrol?" Rattlepelt muttered. "I thought Troutpool cleared you for patrols last moon."
"That's what I told him!" Midnightpaw groaned. Rattlepelt scanned the camp, but Anchovystrike could not be seen.
"I respect how busy he must be, what with the Rat Leader issue," Rattlepelt grumbled, licking the salty, ashy solution off her paws, "but that's no excuse to delay your training. Oilstar has been taking meetings since sunhigh. You should go to her and complain."
"I can do that?" Midnightpaw gasped, gaze locking onto Oilstar's den.
"If you don't, I will," Rattlepelt promised with a huff. "There's a lot I could say to both of your mentors, if I was a younger molly."
"Both?" Midnightpaw cocked his head, bandage once more scratching his skin. Rattlepelt stiffened slightly, paw held to her tongue for a moment too long.
"I think you know what I mean," Rattlepelt sighed, setting her paw down and licking Midnightpaw's ear. "Now go see Oilstar." Midnightpaw did not, in fact, know what his mother meant, but like many things, he did not question it. Instead, he made his way toward Oilstar's den, skirting around the Clan at work.
"He's the deputy's son, Anchovystrike." Oilstar's voice drifted from the shipwreck. "She's going to notice when his mentor doesn't take him on patrol." The sound carried Anchovystrike's scent with her. Midnightpaw perked up! Oilstar was already telling his mentor off! Good! He lingered near the Shiprock, ears turned to the den. Might as well see how mad Oilstar was.
"Do you really want Midnightpaw at the river with me right now?" Anchovystrike pointed out. Midnightpaw could just make out the swish of the white-speckled tom's tail. "The clerics want me at the border, but I don't think they want Midnightpaw catching yellowcough while he's still healing."
"Mentors have taken their apprentices out in worse conditions," Oilstar huffed. "Really, Anchovystrike, you should be ashamed. You of all cats know how warriors can adapt to vision loss. Your own sister has a condition not too different from Midnightpaw."
"No, no, that's not it," Anchovystrike stammered. "That's not the whole story, I mean."
"I was a historian. You know I appreciate a good story."
"I know he's your grandson, Oilstar, but the more I look at him, the more I worry he can't handle the responsibilities of being a warrior." Wait, it wasn't about Midnightpaw's vision? The black tom grew hot.
"In what way?" Oilstar pressed.
"Even before the accident, Midnightpaw seemed… distant. He always seems just half aware of what's happening at any given moment. He struggles to pick up on hunting cues. He's surprised by the noisiest cats. And the way he's helped around camp since the flood? Someone always needs to fix his mistakes. He messes up on simple tasks. If I take him out of camp, who's to say he won't wander across the border, or into the jaws of a wolf?"
No! Midnightpaw was a good apprentice. He worked hard! He just proved Anchovystrike wrong, he helped Rattlepelt prepare hides! Although all he did was claw off excess flesh… Midnightpaw burned in the winter chill, heart pounding.
"He's an apprentice," Oilstar huffed. "He spent most of his training in recovery. He's allowed to struggle."
"It's just the way he struggles," Anchovystrike groaned. "I don't like saying this, but at this point, I'm not sure Midnightpaw could ever be a warrior."
"Eavesdropping, Midnightpaw?" Midnightpaw jumped, back arching high. Wolverineheart stood behind him, head tilted slightly, a soft purr just reaching Midnightpaw's ears. Midnightpaw blinked dumbly. Should he say yes? Was this a question he was meant to answer? What did Wolverineheart want to know? Wolverineheart's face shifted from mirth to concern as Midnightpaw stayed frozen.
"I'm only teasing you," Wolverineheart said softly. "What's wrong?"
"Do I have to be an elder?" Midnightpaw managed to gulp. Wolverineheart stood taller, sharing in Midnightpaw's dumbfounded look.
"I don't think you're quite that old," Wolverineheart chuckled, eyes avoiding Midnightpaw.
"If I can't do anything, I have to be an elder," Midnightpaw explained, voice tightening. "Isn't that how it works?" The mouth of the elder's den across camp looked like a bear's endless maw, begging Midnightpaw to step inside and slide down its gullet.
"Who do I have to yowl at?" Wolverineheart snapped, surprising Midnightpaw once more. When had the brown molly's face soured? "No matter how well your eye heals, you can still follow your dreams. If you have to retire, half this Clan would be elders. What coward told you otherwise?"
"It's not my eye," Midnightpaw gulped, panting under the sheer heat of his anxiety. "It's me. I don't…" Could he tell Wolverineheart what Anchovystrike thought of him? Midnightpaw didn't think he was inattentive, or oblivious, or dumb… but if his own mentor thought he'd kill himself on patrol, how good of a warrior could he ever be?
It was only because of Wolverineheart's sudden shift that Midnightpaw realized Oilstar and Anchovystrike were leaving the den. A flash of surprise crossed both their faces, although Midnightpaw barely understood it. If they realized he had listened to their conversation, neither cat brought it up.
"I'm glad to see you, Midnightpaw," Oilstar sighed, touching noses with her grandson. "Anchovystrike and I just got done with an important talk."
"Am I an elder now?" Midnightpaw asked. The blood spinning in his head made it hard to focus on Oilstar's words.
"No!" all three adults yowled, in varying degrees of horror.
"You'll be a warrior someday," Oilstar promised, licking Midnightpaw's ear, "even though your training will take longer. No, Anchovystrike and I decided that, with everything that has happened in recent moons, he can't take the time to be the best mentor he could be for you." Wolverineheart's bi-colored gaze hardened on Anchovystrike, who quickly pulled his eyes down. "Since Troutpool has cleared you for training again, I want to give you a different mentor."
"I'll do it," Wolverineheart interuppted, her whole body perking up.
"Oh," Oilstar gasped softly. "I'm glad to see you're enthusiastic, Wolverineheart, but I was thinking someone with more experience as a mentor, like Halibutdusk. You'll be a mother soon. I don't want to take you away from your kits."
"Whatever you think Midnightpaw needs," Wolverineheart huffed, hardening her stance, "I can give him. I would love to be a mentor. The blind can lead the blind!"
"Do I count as blind?" Midnightpaw muttered. The itch of his bandages once more became the only thing he could focus on.
"You make a good argument," Oilstar conceded with a nod. "I'll summon the Clan and make you Midnightpaw's official mentor."
Midnightpaw's thoughts swam wildly as Oilstar climbed the Shiprock. Anchovystrike said something to him—an apology?—but the words didn't pierce Midnightpaw's mind. He wasn't helpless. He could still go on adventures. He could still graduate.
(Wolverineheart: 34, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)
RippleClan wakes up to its first snowfall, but find Tallowheart, Splashtuft, and Billowhaze never returned from their nighttime hunt. They find neither sight or scent of the three toms. Estherfern can only confirm their deaths in a dream... a bad, bad dream.
[Image ID: Estherfern looks upon Tallowheart, Splashtuft, and Billowhaze, now spirits of StarClan. Estherfern yowls, "Is the All-Seeing preventing you from explaining yourselves? Say something!"]
(Estherfern: 136, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
(Tallowheart: 38, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)
(Splashtuft: 50, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)
(Billowhaze: 37, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)
Downstar’s mangled tail takes her final life. Oilstripe journeys to StarClan’s Shrine with Troutpool to receive her nine lives. She doesn’t feel ready, but goes regardless.
[Image ID: Oilstripe sits in front of Downstar, who is curled up in a nest. Troutpool stands behind Oilstripe as the latter says, "I won't leave until she stops breathing, Troutpool."]
Downstar was old. While StarClan had healed her wounds from the SlugClan battle, the shock of it clung to her body. It wasn't ready for the fight with LynxClan. There wasn't much more the clerics could do for Downstar, save give those she loved time to sit beside her and say goodbye.
Sunset bounced off the wall of the medicine den behind Oilstripe as she sat beside her sleeping leader. Downstar laid stretched in her nest, tail tightly wrapped in bandages. Her claws peeked in and out as she dreamed her death dream. She'd barely been able to eat over the last few days, leading her ribs to press against her skin. She already smelled of vigil herbs; lavender and mint. Even though Yarrowclaw had a nest in the medicine den, treating a deep slash along the back of her ankle, she left the deputy to her early vigil.
"Nine lives," Oilstripe muttered. She brushed her tail against Downstar's frail side. "It must have been painful. I hope this feels better." Darkhounds, crazed leaders, humans, blizzards… and she lost her final life to LynxClan cats stealing crabs. Crabs. A leader like Downstar deserved a grander death, deep in the heart of a fearsome battle. Or perhaps a quiet one, where she drifted off in her nest. This was neither. This was… just sad.
"Mom?" Oilstripe looked back to see Troutpool standing just inside the medicine den. Behind her, RippleClan shared tongues, quietly waiting for the moment their first great leader left them for Silverpelt.
"She doesn't have long," Oilstripe sighed, turning back to Downstar. "I don't think she's in much pain."
"I know." Silence itched the back of Oilstripe's neck. "I was talking with the other clerics. It will be dark soon. We think it would be better if you and I… started the trip to StarClan's Shrine. You'll need your nine lives." Oilstripe crouched in front of Downstar's muzzle. Her soft breath stirred the small fibers of the moss underneath her.
"I won't leave until she stops breathing, Troutpool," Oilstripe said. "It wouldn't be right." Oilstripe nuzzled Downstar's muzzle. The tortoiseshell leader did not react.
"She'll go at any moment," Troutpool groaned softly. "You can only get your lives at night. And… I know you've noticed her."
Yes, Oilstripe had seen the spirit sitting just beside the den wall, watching Downstar closely. Duskkit stared at her mother, still as a hunter. With the true dusk shining through the thinnest gaps in the wood, Duskkit seemed not like a glowing spirit, visible only to Oilstripe and Troutpool, but a normal kit, a juniper-wearing black tabby waiting for her mother.
"There are a lot of cats waiting for her," Duskkit said. She moved closer to Downstar's sleeping body, peering at the gray fur lining her muzzle. "I want to be the first face she sees when she wakes up." She turned back to Oilstripe and added "She'll see you there, Oilstripe. It's alright." Oilstripe's throat closed. This was really happening. StarClan, she was going to become RippleClan's leader. Fear tightened her shoulders and pushed out her claws.
"I still need to prepare a travel mixture," Troutpool said softly. "That would give you a little more time." When Oilstripe did not respond, Troutpool slipped around her mother and to her stores. She quietly plucked drying herbs from their shelves and placed them in a stone bowl for grinding, worn to a deep dip over moons of artisanal pressure. As her paw pressed the herbs against the stone, transforming them into powder and paste, Oilstripe moved around Duskkit and Downstar. The ginger deputy placed her chin on Downstar's thin chest. Despite the end creeping close, her fur was as soft as ever.
"Maybe your gift to me will be a soft pelt," Oilstripe muttered. Duskkit giggled and trotted to Oilstripe's side. She placed her paw, half the size of Oilstripe's own, on Downstar's back. To Oilstripe's shock, Duskkit's ghostly paw did not phase through.
"That's a sign that she's close," Duskkit explained softly. She stared up at Oilstripe and asked, "What do you think she'll look like in StarClan? I try to look as old as I can, but I know most cats like looking young."
"I'm sure she'll be like you remember her," Oilstripe sighed.
"It's ready, Mom," Troutpool gently called. She placed a lid back on a small jar of water and put it back on her shelves. The herbs inside the stone bowl floated and congealed in the water.
Troutpool lapped up half of the mixture. Her face curled as she swallowed. Oilstripe groomed Downstar's neck, filling her nose with the scent of lavender. She joined Troutpool as the cream and white cleric stepped back and processed the taste of the mixture. Oilstripe's whiskers curled as she leaned down to the bowl. She tried to imagine it was a bowl of honey. She drank the strengthening slop as quick as she could. She gagged at the powerful taste. Was this what the clerics ate before their half-moon trips? Oilstripe forced herself to drink the rest of the mixture. When she was done, Troutpool placed the bowl back in its spot in the corner and nuzzled Oilstripe's neck.
"We can go if you're ready," Troutpool said. Mother and daughter, living, looked back at mother and daughter, dying and dead. Duskkit's pelt shimmered with stars and anticipation as she stared deep into Downstar's closed eyes. Oilstripe forced her mind to still. Downstar deserved to greet her daughter in private. Oilstripe nodded to Troutpool. The pair walked out of the medicine den and through the dimming camp.
Oilstripe focused on the exit. Troutpool waved off Clanmates as they stood, anticipating an announcement of the end. There were two cats, however, that wouldn't let themselves be ignored. Slushtrail and Tallowheart sat in front of the exit, catching Oilstripe and their older sister before they could leave. Slushtrail adjusted the crown of juniper needles that decorated her head as she hurried in front of Oilstripe.
"Is she gone?" Slushtrail gulped.
"Soon," Oilstripe sighed. "We're going to StarClan's Shrine. Keep Rattlepelt and your mother company while we're out."
"You can count on us, Mom," Tallowheart said, brushing against Oilstripe's pelt. "Good luck." Oilstripe touched noses with her son and youngest daughter. She licked each of their ears, breathed love into their fur, and led Troutpool out of camp.
They were not alone as they journeyed toward the border. As they pushed further and further into the forest, starry figures danced in the red shadows. Oilstripe recognized some of the figures. Ripplefern jumped from root to boulder to hilltop, eagerly racing back and forth. Puddlespeckle's blue eyes watched silently from the crook of a yellow birch. Harvest led Robinkit down a deer path, almost dancing as they went. When the sharp scent of the border hit Oilstripe's nose, most of the figures she saw were cats she couldn't recognize. The whole forest seemed to glow with the presence of a hundred glittering pelts.
"Are you always accompanied like this?" Oilstripe whispered to Troutpool.
"I think this is a special occasion," Troutpool gulped. Her head followed a pair of ghostly apprentices leaping across the branches overhead, daring each other to reach StarClan's Shrine first.
Oilstripe didn't know how to each StarClan's Shrine alone, but StarClan guided her paws in the most literal sense possible. As night overtook dusk, spirits waved her forward, directing her and Troutpool along the WheatClan border until they reached SlugClan. Troutpool's path shifted off the border and along a well-tred stretch of dead grass. The thicker hills and cliffs that marked the harsher, more rugged terrain of SlugClan bloomed around them, giving StarClan spirits more places to look and watch the cleric and deputy on their journey.
When Troutpool was an apprentice, she had eagerly described the cave that housed StarClan's Shrine to Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle the day after her first half-moon meeting. As the cave, emerging from a slowly rising cliff, appeared through the trees, Oilstripe realized her daughter described it perfectly. An unlit fire sat outside the cave. Paint smeared the walls of the cave, depicting daring figures and dramatic shapes. Some of the art was so faded, Oilstripe had to squint, but other areas had fresh paint smearing the rock. SlugClan took their responsibility of maintaining the shrine seriously, it seemed.
The StarClan spirits stopped well before they reached the cave. As Troutpool guided Oilstripe into the thick dark, the deputy couldn't help but look back at her starry companions, wishing they could continue to light the way. But if the stories were true, she would see them again soon enough.
The paintings along the cave wall guided Oilstripe further into the dark, just as the StarClan spirits outside escorted her all the way from camp. Cats ran deeper into the cave while others built the Clans; weaving baskets, hunting, cooking, singing. This was an ode to everything the Clans were, all they stood for, all leading to the end of their lives and the start of their next.
Every kit knew about the stone that sat at the end of the cave. Half of the roof had collapsed over the years, allowing the glow of the night to illuminate the sacred sculpture. A large shape bulged from the farthest wall. While bright paint surrounded this shape, nothing dared touch the symbol itself. It was a large, five-pointed object, a symbol that historians drew in the sand to teach kits about their ancestors. It was a star. Carved by cats or carved by nature, none knew which was true, but did that matter? This was StarClan's Shrine. Their symbol led the living to the dead.
"We sleep beside the star?" Oilstripe whispered, as though afraid to break the divinity of the cave. Troutpool nodded. She settled into a soft loaf on the leather-covered floor. Oilstripe forced her stiff legs to bend and place her body beside Troutpool. Questions burned Oilstripe's throat, but she could not ask them. How could she fall asleep in such a place?
"It's easier than you think," Troutpool said, closing her eyes. "It just takes time. I'll be with you, Mom." Oilstripe copied her daughter and closed her eyes, even though the wind purred along the open roof and Oilstripe's body wanted to run.
Alright, StarClan. What did you truly think of Oilstripe?
[Image ID: Oilstar stands proud and tall with Fennelspot, Mosspounce, Weedfoot, Applepelt, Rustshade, Parsley, Clammask, Locustseeker, and Downstar's ghosts surrounding her. Troutpool and Moonpaw watch from afar. Downstar says, "We hail you by your new name, Oilstar, second leader of RippleClan. You are everything we built this Clan to be. Make it more." Under Oilstar, it says LEVEL UP! OILSTRIPE → OILSTAR, + LIVES: 9.]
Oilstripe's thoughts drifted for a while. Flashes of her Clan danced behind her eyelids. Downstar, dying in her nest. Carnationspeckle, pledging to be Oilstripe's mate as long as she would have her. Rattlepelt, calling her Mom for the first time. Troutpool's birth, then Slushtrail and Tallowheart. In so many ways, Oilstripe had never lost a single friend, while in others, she could never forget them. Perhaps this was why she was given her strange sight, as some supernatural preparation to lead RippleClan. Was Downstar even dead yet?
"Don't worry, Oilstripe. She's here."
Oilstripe startled, rolling onto her side. The cool leather floor of StarClan's Shrine had vanished. Sand mixed into Oilstripe's ginger pelt. A bright, cloud-dappled sky stretched above her, shining with the brilliant glow of the sunrise that burned against the ocean behind Oilstripe. The forest and the steepening cliffs beyond it lined the horizon beyond the ethereal beach. It smelled like every season at once; the warmth of summer, the colors of autumn, the chill of winter, and the growth of spring. It was home, it was RippleClan, but it wasn't. It was RippleClan at its best.
Troutpool stood beside Oilstripe and helped her mother to her paws. A sparkling white molly stood at the edge of the grass and sand, purring. Oilstripe had not seen this figure in many, many moons. Her appearances in the living world dimmed as more and more RippleClan cats quietly watched their descendants. But she had never left them, had she?
"Mom," Troutpool whispered, bowing before the white molly. "This is—"
"Moonpaw," Oilstripe purred. "It's been a long time."
"You've met our StarClan guide?" Troutpool gasped, jumping back up.
"I knew you would be leader some day," Moonpaw laughed, trotting up to the living cats. Stars trailed in her wake. "I don't just mean because I'm RippleClan's guide, either! It just felt right."
"Thank you," Oilstripe sighed, dipping her head. Suddenly, Moonpaw jabbed her nose against Oilstripe's forehead. Her nose was cold, like diving into the ocean.
Oilstripe's life flashed before her eyes. Literally. She saw WheatClan's camp from the eyes of a kit at Sunstrike's side, Rustshade beckoning her close. She saw RippleClan's shipwreck for the first time and spotted the little brown kit waiting within for her mother. She saw Moonpaw for the first time, saving her from an early demise. She saw Troutpool at Carnationspeckle's belly, she saw her Clan grow, she saw Weedfoot's spirit nod in approval, she saw death and battle and birth and love. Her life collapsed into a single moment of unending memories.
Oilstripe's legs buckled as Moonpaw stepped away. Troutpool threw her head under Oilstripe's chin, helping her back to her feet.
"What did you do?" Oilstripe gasped, reminding herself she could still breathe.
"A few things," Moonpaw said with a chuckle. "I'm RippleClan's guide. I have to make sure they have a good leader. Very official." She cleared her throat and stood a bit taller. "I have taken your old life from you, Oilstripe. Your body is no longer breathing. It now has room for nine new lives to guide RippleClan through the seasons to come. I have searched through your life, and I approve of your right to rule." Oilstripe nodded dumbly. She knew this would happen; stories of past leader's ceremonies made up more than a few legends. The process was known, even if the details were kept secret until a leader's final passing. But to actually have that happen…
"What now?" Oilstripe gulped. Moonpaw looked back to the forest.
"Now Troutpool and I settle down and bear witness," Moonpaw purred. Moonpaw bunted Troutpool's shoulder like an old friend. Troutpool stumbled to the side, eyeing Oilstripe as Moonpaw shoved her away. Oilstripe breathed slow as she stared into the trees. Downstar wanted this. StarClan wanted this. It would be alright.
The first life-giver's golden eyes peered from underneath a giant pine. He emerged slowly, eyeing Moonpaw as he stepped into the light. Oilstripe's heart lightened. Even in his afterlife, Fennelspot was a consistent presence in the medicine den, watching the clerics work and standing over patients. It felt not like a long-awaited reunion, but a visit with a good friend.
"Can you believe I thought you were mean as a kit?" Oilstripe laughed as Fennelspot approached. The petals he stuck into his pelt were bright and soft as though they still grew on their stems.
"I had a lot going on," Fennelspot hummed, whiskers twitching in humor. "Now Oilstripe, this will be a lot. You'll feel like you're dying. I won't lie to you. But you can handle it. Trust yourself."
"I do my best," Oilstripe said. Fennelspot touched his pointed muzzle to Oilstripe's forehead.
"With this life," he said, voice echoing with supernatural power, "I give you unity. Unity across the Clans made RippleClan possible. It's your job as leader to foster unity within RippleClan. It can be hard, but the Clan depends on you now."
Oilstripe did not feel very united in that moment as slicing pain ripped through her mind. She could feel herself break apart, her body tearing into large, bleeding chunks. She tumbled away from herself, helplessly reaching out. Yet before she could lose herself, mental twine latched itself to her soul. Stitches pulled her pieces back together. She would not let herself fall apart. Disjointed parts slipped back together, their bonds stronger than ever before.
Oilstripe's legs shook as Fennelspot stepped back. Oilstripe laughed weakly, licking her dry lips. Fennelspot wasn't lying. The dead cleric peered at Oilstripe like he was ready for her to fall over. Oilstripe sat and swallowed vomit that crawled up her throat. Fennelspot still studied Oilstripe like a good cleric should, but he moved to the side for the second life-giver.
This life-giver marched out of the forest like he ruled it all. Oilstripe couldn't help it, she startled at the sight of black and gray fur and earthy green eyes.
"Mosspounce?" she gasped.
"Congratulations, Oilstripe," Mosspounce chirped, sitting with a plop in front of the ginger molly. "I'm really excited to give you your second life."
"I have to be honest," Oilstripe said, chuckling at the shock of it all, "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"Think about it," Mosspounce chuckled. "I was born… under not so good circumstances. I mean, my father had me in some strange attempt to connect with your mate. It's disturbing." Mosspounce's tail curled around his front leg. "Still, Carnationspeckle nursed me. And you, you didn't treat me bad. You always treated me like my own cat."
"I tried my best," Oilstripe explained with a lick to her chest. "I can't say it didn't feel strange, but you were a kit. It wouldn't have been right to treat you poorly. You aren't Shadowdrop's mistakes."
"That's why you'll be a good leader," Mosspounce purred. He touched his nose to Oilstripe's forehead and said, "With this life, I give you the gift of adventure. Don't be afraid to reach far and go where the wind takes you. Risks have the best rewards."
Oilstripe was flying. The world bent below her. Trees and mountains and oceans curled in on each other. She hovered in a black void, stars twinkling far, far away. A blue and green ball, sprinkled white, danced before her. There was no limit to what she could do. She never wanted to come down.
Yet come down she did as Mosspounce stepped away. Oilstripe's eyes blurred from the leftover effect. Mosspounce's form rippled like a reflection. Oilstripe rubbed her eyes. It was like clearing out sand and salt. By the time her vision returned, the figure standing in front of her was no longer Mosspounce… but Weedfoot. She had made only a few appearances in camp since her passing; Oilstripe hadn't realized how young her former mentor truly looked in StarClan.
"I am so, so proud of you, Oilstripe!" Weedfoot cheered. She rubbed against Oilstripe. She smelled like dandelions and salt. The smell grounded Oilstripe against the sand of Silverpelt. She licked Weedfoot's neck, purring in return. "James wanted me to tell you not to let the power go to your head."
"What's it like to have Paleshade and James in StarClan together?" Oilstripe asked as Weedfoot moved back.
"Let's just say they keep me busy," Weedfoot hummed. With that, she touched her nose to Oilstripe and declared, "With this life, I give you courage. By StarClan, you'll need it."
Oilstripe was afraid. Her body ached and burned. Darkness intensified the pain. No one was coming. No one would help. It was forbidden. But that wasn't the worst pain. The worst was the cooling body pressed against her own. She could have lived, you foxhearts. She wouldn't cower before them. Even if she died right then and there, Weedfoot would not let AshClan win.
Oilstripe reflexively sobbed when the pain ended and she returned to the present. Troutpool hurried forward, but Moonpaw stepped in front with a soft shake of her head. Weedfoot licked Oilstripe's cheek as she shook. Just that simple touch, both dead and alive, rekindled the newfound strength left within Oilstripe's bones. Her mentor had faced that horror and live. Oilstripe would be honored to carry that courage with her.
Weedfoot joined Fennelspot and Mosspounce, who sat to the side with Troutpool and Moonpaw. Oilstripe peered into the forest. Who would visit her next? She couldn't see any iridescent eyes or sparkling pelts—
Something slammed into Oilstripe's shoulder. Oilstripe fell on her jaw. Sand flew into her nose. A mad cackle clued her into her next life-giver.
"I can touch you, I can touch you," Applepelt sang as their soft paws batted Oilstripe's exposed belly. Fennelspot groaned and Troutpool's eyes went wide. Everyone else just laughed.
"You're bird-brained, Applepelt," Oilstripe laughed, getting back to her paws. She snorted like a horse, blowing out sand.
"Aww, but didn't you miss this?" Applepelt cooed. She thrust her head into Oilstripe's chest. "I mean, I know I talk to you all the time, probably more than I'm supposed to if I'm honest, but isn't it nice to actually do this?" Applepelt suddenly reared up and nibbled Oilstripe's ear. Oilstripe laughed like an apprentice and headbutted Applepelt off.
"You'll get in trouble with Carnationspeckle if she hears about this," Oilstripe giggled.
"Well when I get the chance, I'll flirt with her, too!" Applepelt declared. "You can't stop me."
"The life, Applepelt," Fennelspot snapped. Moonpaw shushed the (ironically) younger StarClan cat.
"I'm getting to it," Applepelt scoffed as Oilstripe tried to dam her giggles. "Alright, alright, time for the serious stuff." Applepelt purred as they touched Oilstripe's forehead. "With this life, I give you confidence! I've always cheered you and Carnationspeckle on, and I've always tried to make you as confident in yourselves and each other as I am. Now you have to be confident!"
If Oilstripe thought the life for adventure was intoxicating, Applepelt's life was something else entirely. Oilstripe's body floated. She was on fire, but the fire did not hurt. She could do anything. She could face an entire enemy Clan. She could feed all of RippleClan. She could, and would, do it all! Everything would be okay, because Oilstripe was the one in control. She was the Clan leader, and she could do it!
The release was not as painful as
Oilstripe expected. Instead, as Applepelt trotted over to the other StarClan cats, Oilstripe felt refreshed. The horror of Fennelspot and Weedfoot's lives seemed distant, echoing against the trees. Oilstripe breathed deeply, throat stinging with salt. She waited for her next visitor, glancing along the beach and through the trees. Her pelt prickled as every moment passed without sight of a new life-giver.
"Rustshade, don't keep her waiting!" Weedfoot yowled into the trees. Oilstripe's heart stopped. Red paws slipped into the light. Rustshade's sharp heather eyes bore into Oilstripe. Oh. So this was what these reunions were meant to feel like.
"Dad," Oilstripe whimpered. Rustshade slowly made his way to his oldest daughter. He looked younger than Oilstripe did. Oilstripe stretched her head forward, shaking. She cried when Rustshade's nose touched her forehead. Oh to be a kit again, the focus of Rustshade's attention.
"With this life, I give you…" Rustshade said, "the gift of breaking the warrior code." What? Oilstripe nearly steppd back to oggle her father, but she feared to break the powerful ritual. Rustshade was considered the Celestial of RippleClan Codekeepers! Oilstripe literally heard cats like Cobaltchaser and Wolfgaze pray to him to pass their assessments! How could he suggest breaking the code in front of his fellow StarClan warriors?
"Do you think you would be leader if we didn't break the code and turn against our old Clans?" Rustshade scoffed. "The right thing isn't always what the code says. It's up to you to recognize that."
Wind buffeted Oilstripe's pelt. She was certain she'd be flung upward, destined for a gruesome landing. Stabbing pain consumed her body. The glare of a hundred righteous faces burned into her. But she burned too, not out of shame, but pride. They could say what they wanted. This was right.
"Don't go!" Oilstripe cried as the connection broke and Rustshade stepped away. She reached for her father's slender tail as he turned, but her claws barely reached his fur. Troutpool's gaze was stuck on her grandfather as he sat beside Fennelspot. Oilstripe's jaw ached. Couldn't Rustshade spare a single comforting word her way?
"Now this is exciting!" A red and gray tortoiseshell trotted toward the beach. The stump that once formed her tail wiggled like an excited apprentice. Unlike the other StarClan cats, who usually looked far younger than they were when they died, Parsley still looked like an elder, with aging gray around her muzzle and thin patches of fur. Oilstripe tried to ignore Rustshade's presence and relaxed at the sight of Parsley. She was around the nursery so much in her afterlife, it was sometimes like she had never passed.
"I am very honored to be giving you a life, Ms. Oilstripe," Parsley chirped. "I hope I can do right by you and Carnation."
"You always did, Parsley," Oilstripe hummed as Parsley touched her forehead.
"With this life, I give you new beginnings," Parsley purred. "That's what RippleClan is all about, and it's what I grew to embody. Give them out whenever you can."
Oilstripe blossomed. Her body grew taller, faster, stronger, shining brighter and brighter with a fire in her belly. The beach was too small to hold her. Her bones snapped under the sudden pressure, yet they rebuilt themselves just as fast. All the while, the sensation of her tail attached to her flank faded, numb and ghost-like. Had Oilstripe not been in extreme pain, she would have laughed.
"Enjoy it, Ms. Oilstripe," Parsley purred. Oilstripe's head spun when the tortoiseshell moved back. Parsley plopped herself in front of her fellow StarClan cats.
Oilstripe barely had a moment to collect herself before the seventh life-giver emerged from the forest. Clammask! She seemed more at ease than Oilstripe could ever recall her being. Her dull golden fur was brighter than ever. She must have been enjoying her time in StarClan, since Oilstripe had only seen her at the vigils of her daughters in recent moons.
"You're almost done, Oilstripe," Clammask promised. Oilstripe had no time to greet her sister before Clammask touched her nose to Oilstripe's forehead. "With this life, I give you strength—strength in mind, heart, and body. I don't think you could ever hope to be a leader without strength."
Heavy waves pounded against Oilstripe. Her paws flew out from under her. She choked on salt and foam. Her eyes burned. She was certain she was about to vomit. Something pushed her up, pushed her to find air, to keep going. She wasn't going out like this. StarClan, was she living through Clammask's final moments? Was this what death felt like?
Oilstripe gagged as the connection broke. She was not about to throw up in front of StarClan itself, especially not her own daughter. Oilstripe swallowed hard as Clammask ran to Rustshade. The pair bunted heads and Clammask settled at her father's paws.
"Oilstripe! Over here!" A cream figure jogged along the beach, racing right at Oilstripe. The ginger molly braced herself to be tackled once more. Yet instead of a violent reunion, Locustseeker simply bunted their head against Oilstripe's side, purring deeply.
"I had to fight Burdockcreek and Twinekit for this spot," Locustseeker laughed. "Hope you don't mind they aren't here. I'm sure they'll visit you later." Oilstripe purred too and licked her lost sibling's head. "Don't be mad at Dad and Clammask, they love it up here. I'm trying to convince them to go see you more."
"Don't get in trouble on my part," Oilstripe hummed as Locustseeker moved in front of her. Even though they died young, they still matched Oilstripe's height, making it easy for them to touch their nose to her forehead.
"With this life, I give you endurance," Locustseeker declared. "Don't give up, Oil. I hope this keeps you going."
Oilstripe's heart beat wildly. Battle yowls pierced her ears. Claws danced through her skin, but Oilstripe returned every blow. Endurance seemed to be the same as strength, but as Oilstripe's body weakened and that strength left her, her endurance remained. It was the force that encouraged her to perform until her body gave way.
Locustseeker's release was like a deep sigh. Oilstripe no longer shook and swallowed bile. Locustseeker joined Clammask and Rustshade, shooting sassy looks to the both of them. Oilstripe heard many stories of leader ceremonies, their details revealed to historians after their passing. She knew how nearly all of them ended. There was only one candidate left to give her her final life.
Downstar emerged triumphantly from the forest. She looked just as she did in Oilstripe's oldest memories. Her soft fur glistened and shined with the newly gained glow of Silverpelt. There was a spark to her amber eyes Oilstripe had never seen before. Cats, both known and unknown, trailed behind her. Duskkit. Shadowdrop. Trumpetspore. Tempestshade. Scrubmask. More and more spirits followed Downstar to the beach, all staring at Oilstripe.
"You look good," Oilstripe said. She was shocked to find a lump in her throat as she spoke.
"I feel better than I have in a very long time," Downstar purred. "Now that I'm here, there's something very important I need to tell you." The lump in Oilstripe's throat grew as Downstar touched her forehead. "I picked a good, good deputy. With this life, I give you leadership in the darkest times. My only hope for you is that you fare better than I did."
The weight and emotion of Oilstripe's eight other lives crashed into her. Battle cries, crashing waves, breaking bones, glaring eyes, intoxication, darkness, flight, falling apart and coming togther again. All of these experiences pulled themselves together in Oilstripe's chest and burned against the shadows of the sunset.
"We hail you by your new name, Oilstar, second leader of RippleClan. You are everything we built this Clan to be. Make it more."
Triumphant yowls filled the land as Oilstar stood before StarClan. The ghosts she so often saw on the horizon now stood proud and alive, bright as the moon. Troutpool joined the cries of the dead, her voice giving way under the strain. Oilstar's new name filled the sky.
"Oilstar! Oilstar! Oilstar!" StarClan cheered.
"Oilstar? Are you Oilstar now?" Dovekit asked.
Wait, Dovekit?
Oilstar woke on the cool leather floor of StarClan's Shrine. Dovekit stared directly into her face, a whisker's length away. He blinked innocently, like he didn't know how wrong this all was.
"Dovekit!" Oilstar snapped, standing on shaking legs. "How are you here?"
"I followed you," Dovekit said as Troutpool stirred behind him.
"All the way from camp?" Oilstar gasped. How in StarClan's name could a kit get out of camp and travel across two territories with no one finding him? "Dovekit, there are dangerous things in the forest, especially at night. An owl could have swooped down and grabbed you!"
"But no one saw me," Dovekit huffed. Troutpool opened her bleary eyes and suddenly startled at the sight of the gray and white kit. Oilstar shook her head, hiding a purr deep in her throat. Now it would be her job to find the chaotic tom a mentor next moon. It would be her job to find mentors for every kit in RippleClan, bestow names on every new warrior. She'd be the one speaking for RippleClan at Gatherings. She'd be the one deciding the fate of her Clanmates.
If she could handle Dovekit in that moment, perhaps she'd handle all of that as well.
Pearpaw is honored for her role in the Ocean’s Assault, and gets her historian name early; Pearbranch.
[Image ID: Pearpaw is now Pearbranch! Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! PEARPAW → PEARBRANCH, MOSS-BALL HUNTER → GOOD HUNTER, LOVER OF STORIES → GOOD STORYTELLER.]
(Pearbranch: 10, female, historian, righteous, good hunter, good storyteller)
Honeybuzz fiercely grieves his mate. Mitespark has to stop him from attacking Yarrowclaw.
[Image ID: Honeybuzz tries to attack Yarrowclaw, but Mitespark stands between them. Honeybuzz yowls, "You should have saved them first!" Under him, it reads + CONDITION: GRIEVING.]
(Honeybuzz: 48, male, cleric, daring, sklled toolsmith, good teacher)
(Mitespark: 42, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)
(Yarrowclaw: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
As the Clan rebuilds, Oilstar decides to bless Yarrowclaw’s heroism by giving her an honor title; Floodsplash!
[Image ID: Oilstar and Tallowheart approach Yarrowclaw, now Floodsplash. Oilstar says, " You trusted StarClan's vision and saved your Clanmates. If that isn't worthy of an honor title, what is?" Under Floodsplash, it says LEVEL UP! YARROWCLAW → FLOODSPLASH.]
---
It took two days before the five Clans could converge on RippleClan's camp and clear out the last of the floodwaters. And yes, it was five Clans working on the camp, not one. Despite the conflicts of the past year, the other four leaders stood with Oilstar, sending their warriors to restore RippleClan's ruined medicine stores and broken dens. AshClan artisans helped RippleClan carve their first leader and deputy once more into fresh sculptures, with shiny and bright paint from LynxClan. RippleClan caretakers each led a team to clean out their assigned dens, moving broken planks and seaweed and scavenging the old leather floors.
Somehow the human long pelt in the elder's den survived the storm, clumped into a corner. It now laid in the heart of camp with a dozen cats resting on it, trying to find some sense of normalcy, their salt-crusted paws kneading into the sun-warmed material. Most of those cats were RippleClan. Their legs shook from the cleaning efforts. Their muscles burned. They couldn't help anymore, no matter how much they insisted they should. That was what Yarrowclaw kept telling herself as she laid with her belly up, staring at the cascading layers of clouds above.
Yarrowclaw wanted to sleep. She wanted to rest. She knew her mind and heart needed it, perhaps more than the majority of her Clanmates. But the liar in her head kept saying she didn't need rest. She felt fine. If she wasn't tired, she should help. She shouldn't let the other Clans do everything. She was the one who saved the day. Yarrowclaw groaned and flipped onto her stomach, throwing her paws over her head. Could her thoughts please be quiet?
Even those with able bodies could not work. Rattlepelt, Wildclaw, Shrewflame, Whiteflower, and Midnightpaw (once again wearing a tight, dry bandage) sat around Troutpool as the senior cleric softly explained that while Valleypaw's body may never be found, his spirit was sitting with them right now, and he would protect his brothers and mothers no matter where he was. Paleseed worked with a WheatClan mediator in front of the repaired nursery, coaxing Honeybuzz and Stormjump's sons back inside, promising the den couldn't hurt them. Honeybuzz was nowhere to be found. Spikecrash spoke softly with Venturedapple, sharing the horror of Stormjump's body floating in the nursery.
Yes, Stormjump. At least the Clan had her body for the vigil. Only StarClan knew where Valleypaw was washed to. Stormjump now rested beside Littlekit. Yet Yarrowclaw was the hero who saved her mate and escorted everyone out of the medicine. She helped save Stormjump's kits.
It was the best day of Yarrowclaw's life.
It was the worst day of Yarrowclaw's life.
Yarrowclaw stood, shuffling the human long pelt as she moved. Currentsmoke and Yellowburst stumbled up to the crowd of resting cats, relieved of duty for the moment. Yarrowclaw scuttled off the long pelt and gave the pair a place to fall. As the caretakers closed their eyes, Yarrowclaw remembered to breath. Maybe she could take up whatever task Currentsmoke and Yellowburst broke away from? Or she could help prepare a meal for all the hardworking cats who came to RippleClan's aid? The possibilites buzzed in Yarrowclaw's head.
"Yarrowclaw." Oilstar slipped out of the leader's den with Tallowheart at her side. Despite the storm making his ribs worse, the injured historian didn't seem in much pain. Yarrowclaw allowed herself to hold the sudden pride in her chest close. She made sure Oilstar did not lose her son. No matter the circumstances, Yarrowclaw could take pride in that… right?
"Anything you need from me, Oilstar?" Yarrowclaw asked, sitting at attention.
"I was talking with my son here," Oilstar purred, gently touching her nose to Tallowheart's cheek as she spoke, "and Tallowheart had an excellent idea. I thought I would get your opinion first before I called a Clan meeting, though." Yarrowclaw tilted her head. "It's your idea, Tallow. Go ahead."
"If you hadn't come to the medicine den," Tallowheart explained, dipping his head in humility, "the waves might have taken me. You saved my life, Midnightpaw's life, and probably all the clerics too."
"I was just following the vision Estherfern gave me," Yarrowclaw muttered. "If StarClan knew I wouldn't die, I had to keep others alive."
"It was incredible," Tallowheart purred. He flinched as his purr shifted his broken ribs, but he dug through the pain. "We're calling it the Ocean's Assault, and you're the hero of that story. Because of that, I suggested to my mom that she give you an honor title." What?
"What," Yarrowclaw said.
"I don't want to change your name if you don't want this," Oilstar added. "Still, I think you deserve it. You trusted StarClan's vision and saved your Clanmates. If that isn't worthy of an honor title, what is?"
"What would you call me?" Yarrowclaw said. Her words came before her thoughts.
"Floodsplash," Oilstar purred. Fire burned behind Yarrowclaw's eyes. It was a fire that torched her fur and melted her bones, yet she couldn't step out of it. She didn't have to think about it. She couldn't think about it. She couldn't imagine regret or caution, even though she knew, deep down, something screamed at her to just stay normal.
"I love it," Floodsplash said.
(Floodsplash: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Tallowheart: 36, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)
Floodsplash takes her brothers on patrol, hoping one of them would understand, only for them to start fighting.
[Image ID: Floodsplash listens as Anchovystrike, Currentsmoke, and Billowhaze argue, not paying attention to her. Speech bubbles with a mass of tangled swirls surround the trio of toms.]
Author's Note: this passage features discussion of mental illness and self-harm not typically seen in RippleClan's Promise. Reader's discretion is advised.
---
Sandhollow said it was good. Sandhollow said no matter how much Floodsplash's mind fluttered from maddening highs to strange, slugging lows, she could still deserve praise. She could still be honored as a hero and not fly away, never to land. After all, she did do something grand, she didn't imagine the vision, she was special on that grim day.
Floodsplash was a fly drowning in honey, its final moments consumed in unimaginable sweetness and bliss.
RippleClan had to harvest more of their herbs from the garden than the caretakers wanted if they hoped to restock the medicine den and prepare for winter. Floodsplash formed a patrol with her brothers, each burdened with large baskets, to harvest whatever they could. Brilliant red leaves fertilized the garden, hiding the medicine-rich roots and stems RippleClan needed. Paws crinkled and shoved the leaves aside in a soothing, quiet song. The littermates set their baskets at the garden's edge.
"Don't worry too much about seeds and replanting," Currentsmoke advised his littermates as they searched the garden rows for fully grown plants. "Me and the rest of the caretakers can get what we need out of what we harvest."
"We have fennel, burdock, chicory, mallow…" Floodsplash muttered, trotting from row to row. "We just use burdock roots, don't we? Let's leave the leaves, I know you said we don't need to worry about replanting, but why take what we don't need? Chicory, that's largely the roots too, right? We can probably do the same." Stars damn it, she was rambling again.
"Weevil taught me the best way to harvest the fennel," Anchovystrike chirped. "I'll handle that!" Anchovystrike ran a paw down a tall fennel stalk.
"Be careful of the year-old plants!" Currentsmoke warned as he dug at the burdock roots. Anchovystrike simply nodded and sliced his claw through the fronds and leaves. Billowhaze cupped his paw under a mallow flower, peering into the soft petals.
The littermates worked in silence, save for Floodsplash's gentle muttering. She couldn't stop the onslaught of words that tumbled out as she danced through the garden. The more she spoke, even at a whisper, the more her thoughts grew fuzzy.
She shouldn't have been working.
"Valleypaw was so excited to work in the garden," Billowhaze muttered, snapping Floodsplash back to reality before she dug through a chicory root. Currentsmoke and Anchovystrike paused in their work.
Valleypaw. Maybe it wasn't too late. Floodsplash would survive the flood, she would survive anything involving the flood, right? That's how the vision worked. There could be a ritual. If she found Valleypaw's body, maybe she could put his soul back. Wasn't that possible? She would swim out to sea and drag it back. She would—Floodsplash's heart spasmed. No. No no no no no. Not again. That wasn't true, that wouldn't work. But with StarClan—NO! Floodsplash's claws pierced the chicory root.
"Asterblaze should never have sent him out of camp," Anchovystrike sighed. He placed a pawful of fennel into the basket sitting next to him.brought a mouthful of fennel to his basket near Currentsmoke.
"None of us knew that wave was coming, Anchovystrike," Currentsmoke whined softly, pushing aside a burdock root. "It would have been Asterblaze if it hadn't been Valleypaw."
"He was Valleypaw's mentor," Anchovystrike snapped. He spat out a clingy frond of fennel. "He had a responsibility to keep him safe. He's barely mourned him!"
"That's not fair," Currentsmoke huffed, facing his brother. "Asterblaze has been wearing himself down to rebuild the camp. Of course he's mourning Valleypaw."
"Since when have you been so against Asterblaze?" Billowhaze added, stepping away from his work.
"I'm just saying, he should have taken the more dangerous job," Anchovystrike grumbled with a thrash of his tail. "It's… we don't even have his body to mourn! Can you imagine how Midnightpaw feels right now? All I did was make a comment and suddenly everyone feels the need to defend Asterblaze. Let's go back to work." No, let's not. Floodsplash needed to stop. The crumbled remains of the chicory root rested in front of her.
"Anchovystrike…" Currentsmoke groaned, whiskers twitching awkwardly. "Are you sure you're talking about Asterblaze here? Maybe you're…. talking about yourself, too?" Anchovystrike's tail fluffed up, high and shivering.
"Yes, and I don't even know why we're arguing about this," Anchovystrike groaned. "It's all so dumb! I just made a stupid comment, and now you're saying that taking my apprentice hunting is as bad as sending him out in a flood!"
"It was an accident!" Billowhaze and Currentsmoke yowled at once.
"I need help," Floodsplash said. Her mouth was dry. Maybe she could stop their arguing by climbing up a tree and jumping into them, that would shut them up. How selfish were they? Was Floodsplash the only one still doing her work? For StarClan's sake, could one of them listen to her?
"Everything's an accident, everything's on purpose," Anchovystrike hissed, bobbing side to side with emphasis. "I've been fixing the dens non-stop since we got back into camp, maybe I, I want someone to blame! Who else am I going to blame, Yar—I mean Floodsplash? She actually saved lives, Aster—"
"I'm going to kill myself!" Floodsplash shrieked. There. That got her brothers' attention. Their eyes snapped on her like hunters upon a foaming rabbit. Floodsplash panted like she ran across all five Clans. He skin burned and the buzzing in her head clawed at her good eye. She let her mouth go. "I don't trust myself, and I don't want to do anything to myself, so I need you to shut up and help me get home."
Floodsplash sat. Or perhaps she fell. She couldn't tell.
"Alright," Billowhaze choked out, voice as dry as Floodsplash's mouth. "Alright, we… we have plans for this." He glanced at Anchovystrike and Currentsmoke. All three toms had deep shadows over their faces. "Uh… do you…"
"I don't know what's true right now," Floodsplash warned. She sank slowly. A familiar feral panic gripped her chest. "I need to use my powers and help the Clan. I don't have powers, I can't have powers, I can't be special. I'm going to get myself killed. Why did Estherfern tell me about that star-damned vision?" Currentsmoke nuzzled Floodsplash, whimpering deeply.
"I don't know what to tell you," Anchovystrike muttered. Billowhaze gently nudged Floodsplash back to her paws. Her feet burned.
"I know your mind takes things too far," Currentsmoke whined, "but you can still be important."
"I don't want to die," Floodsplash cried. She should have died in the flood. It didn't make sense that she didn't. Why did it have to be her?
But Floodsplash wasn't going to die. For once, that wasn't mania whispering tempting tales of invulnerability. Billowhaze and Currentsmoke pressed against either side of her, baskets abandoned. Anchovystrike led them back toward camp. Floodsplash let herself stumble into her brothers.
It was tempting to call her own mind a battlefield, her condition a war. It certainly felt as deadly at times. Yet her brothers were not warriors at her side, and, as Sandhollow would soon tell Floodsplash while setting up a nest in the medicine den, she couldn't fight herself.
With her brothers' aid, all Floodsplash had to do was weather the floodwaters.
(Floodsplash: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Currentsmoke: 35, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, inventor and innovator)
During a storm, the ocean waves crash into RippleClan’s camp, threatening to drown many.
[Image ID: Wildclaw and Brightreed stand on a boulder amidst stormy waters, with Wolfgaze on a rock in the background. Wildclaw yowls, "Valleypaw!" to which Brightreed responses, "I'll get him!" Under him, it reads + CONDITION: TORN PELT.]
It's a rite of passage for RippleClan kits to stare up at the great shipwreck that watched over the camp and ask the nearest historian "How did it get here?" After all, even the youngest kits could see the ocean from camp and hear the water at its highest tide, tail-lengths from the westernmost rocks. It never rose high enough to lift a ship all the way from the horizon to the top of the rocks. So how did it happen?
Historians would give some vague guess, some storm that none of them had ever witnessed, but they could never give a definitive answer. It had been there before their parents' parents' parents. No one would ever know what caused RippleClan's ship to wreck itself upon the coast of the Clans.
But that day, as rain pelted RippleClan as hard as claws against skin and saltwater leaked between the western walls, Yarrowclaw could imagine how the ship landed on RippleClan's shore.
RippleClan only realized that the storm had grown worse when Billowhaze loudly complained about his nest being wet, waking up everyone in the warrior's den. Water flowed through minute gaps in the wall in a steady stream, soaking into the leather floor. It ruined the nests near the back of the den, ending just before Yarrowclaw's nest. The brown and white warrior stirred only as surprised orders bounced around the den and cats scrambled out into the bruising rain.
"Asterblaze!" Wildclaw barked, the first out of the den. "Valleypaw! The warrior's den is flooding! We need to dam the holes!" Asterblaze and Valleypaw, who had both been guarding the camp through the night and were soaked through their skin, hurried into camp at the deputy's call.
"The water will ruin the artisan's den," Rattlepelt gulped, hurriedly pulling her fox pelt over. "We need paws to take our supplies to higher ground."
"You can direct the other artisans on that," Wildclaw told her mate with a swift nod. "The tree line should provide some cover for now."
"Valleypaw, loop around camp and find the weak points on that side of the den wall," Asterblaze told his young apprentice. "I'll get some mud, and that should seal them up well enough to get through this rain."
"I'll try," Valleypaw promised as the artisans swarmed past the stunned crowd of soaked warriors, following Rattlepelt's orders to move their pots and baskets.
"Be mindful of the waves!" Asterblaze added before Valleypaw ran out of camp. In an artisan's tale, that sort of statement would have been followed by a violent clap of thunder, but the sky was dark, simply relieving its unbearable load.
Yarrowclaw's fellow warriors squirmed and groaned at the rain, shaking or licking their pelts in vain. Ravenweaver and Mitespark rolled a large pot across the soaked sand while Frostdancer ran basketloads of smaller supplies out to the forest. Yarrowclaw's paws itched. Should she be moving supplies too? Would the rain ruin the fresh-kill? She could—no. No ideas. She had to just listen to what Wildclaw ordered. That was what was best.
"Where are we supposed to sleep?" Billowhaze groaned, ears dragged down with waterweight. "I'm not going back in there tonight."
"We'll figure that out," Wildclaw huffed. "I'm sure we can make room in the other dens."
Yarrowclaw was used to the sound of stormy waves hitting the shore beyond the warrior's den. She knew their foaming, creaking sound well. That sound was a steady backdrop to the night's annoyances. Yet Yarrowclaw's ears bled as a loud creak began to overtake Wildclaw's voice. Yarrowclaw looked toward the foam-stained walls of camp, walls that had never had so much ocean foam smeared on their surfaces as long as Yarrowclaw had been around. Beyond those bramble-topped walls, the ocean stood up.
"SHIT!" Wildclaw shrieked above the rising chaos as the gigantic wave crashed into RippleClan's camp.
Yarrowclaw's paws left the ground. Saltwater surrounded her on all sides. The force of the wave shoved the air out of her chest. Someone's large form smacked into Yarrowclaw's jaw. The pair locked claws into each other, desperate for something, anything, they could hold onto. The wave shoved the confused cats deep into the sand, pressed into the crook of a rock. Yarrowclaw's eyes burned with salt.
When the sting of rain hit Yarrowclaw's nose, the half-drowned warrior gasped violently. Her vision blurred as the cat she had collided with, Venturedapple, stumbled off her. Yarrowclaw coughed out salt and foam. Water formed a pool across the camp. The brambles that lined the eastern wall of camp were now thrown about the clearing, broken by the force of the water. Warriors laid in heaps, smashed against the rocks but still breathing, still groaning and hissing with newfound bruises. Oilstar shoved a fallen plank out from in front of her den and searched for explanation. Wolfgaze had somehow landed perfectly on top of the apprentice's den and looked just as shocked by the sight as Yarrowclaw felt about seeing her.
Some of the smaller rocks of the camp wall had rolled from their resting place. Yarrowclaw nearly exploded when she saw one of the rocks that formed the sides of the nursery had rolled in front of it, but she remembered—Stormjump had that infection. She was in the medicine den, and her kits would be with her or Honeybuzz. The medicine den only had a fallen plank floating in the paw-deep water, they were fine for now. Even though water now flowed over the rocks and deepened the waters within camp, everyone was still in camp. The artisans were by the forest, so…
Wait. No. Valleypaw.
"Valleypaw!" Wildclaw yowled. She had landed belly-up in front of the elder's den, next to a dazed Anchovystrike and an unconscious Leathermask. Despite her wounded Clanmates surrounding her, Wildclaw scrambled up, hissing as she moved. She limped toward the flooding wall and climbed onto the brambleless rocks. She searched the watery beach beyond the wall for signs of black fur and yellow eyes. As she looked, Brightreed crawled out from underneath Wolverineheart and Thundergale; the three had been washed against the eastern walls and laid under the falling water as they collected themselves. A bramble mass clung to Brightreed's body, but he shoved it off despite the blood mixing into the dark stormy waters.
"I'll get him!" Brightreed yowled. He jumped onto the slick rocks and dove into the unseen waters beyond. Wildclaw shook herself out, flinging thick drops about, before following the young warrior down.
Yarrowclaw examined herself. She was cold, yes, and certainly aching and bruised, like everyone else. Yet, unlike Leathermask, she was not unconscious. Unlike Brightreed, she was not bleeding. Unlike Tallowheart, when he stumbled into camp with broken ribs, nothing was broken. Even Venturedapple, who groaned at Yarrowclaw's side, seemed shockingly unharmed. Would he have been so safe if he hadn't been thrown into Yarrowclaw? He practically rode her to… to safety.
"StarClan, no," Yarrowclaw muttered, voice lost in the rain and crashing waves. "Please. I can't be prophesized. Please."
Yarrowclaw had barely listened to Oilstar or the clerics since Estherfern told her about her vision. Whatever it was about, Yarrowclaw couldn't help. She offered a dozen interpretations. If the ship was covered in white flowers, maybe they should be talking to the cat literally named Whiteflower. If it was a ship, maybe it was related to the shipwreck itself and not an individual cat. Anything could be true, except for what Yarrowclaw knew to be true. The feral little voice in her head was already rambling.
You're special. You knew it. You knew it! You're chosen. You're invincible. You're going to survive the storm. No matter what happens today, you can't die. StarClan said so. If ships carry others to shore, and you're the ship, you can save your Clan. No one will die if you're around.
No, no, no! Yarrowclaw couldn't be special, she could not be chosen or invincible for her own sake. The moment she gave into those wild, uncontrollable feelings, she put everyone at risk. And yet the vision… it was almost permission to give in. It was StarClan's way of saying just this once, you can be a little delusional, because in this situation, you aren't.
You get to be a hero, Yarrowclaw.
"Get to the forest!" Yarrowclaw yowled as Icepaw and Pearpaw waded out of the apprentice's den, coughing and shaking. "We need to get out of camp! Just evacuate!"
"Find your kin, everyone!" Oilstar barked as another wave crested over the rocks. The Clan dug their paws into the sand and stood against the salty pressure. Yarrowclaw shut her eyes to block out the sting. She held her breath when the water consumed her head and gasped when it receeded. The water now rippled at her elbows.
The clerics aren't out yet. They're dying. You can keep them alive. No one dies around you. Go.
Yarrowclaw jumped through the water, pushing against the terrified warriors flooding toward the exit. She stumbled, jaw smacking the cold water. As she pushed herself up, she saw Oilstar unite with Carnationspeckle in front of the water-filled artisan's den. The mates touched noses, grateful in each other's safety. Oilstar's eyes met Yarrowclaw, stunned at the only cat not flocking for the exit. She believes you're special too, she's the one who tried to convince you, she knows what you have to do. Yarrowclaw pressed on to the medicine den.
The medicine den was more flooded than Yarrowclaw expected. Water seemed to seep through the sand and the cracks in the shipwreck. The back half of the medicine den had turned into a water-filled cave. Tallowheart lingered at the water's edge, struggling to stand even with Troutpool's help. Gingerspring pounded on Weevilsight's prone belly until she vomited water. The tortoiseshell's signature petals floated out of the den. Midnightpaw cowered against the den wall, the left half of his face wrapped tight in bandages. He shook his head wildly as Honeybuzz and Estherfern cooed for him to move.
"It will get worse if we stay," Honeybuzz snapped. "Midnightpaw, we need to leave now. Just go!"
"I can't!" Midnightpaw whined, hiding his good eye against the ruined shelves of medicine.
"Weevilsight, come on, let's get out of here," Gingerspring gulped as Weevilsight stood, shaking and gagging. "We have to go!"
"Yarrowclaw," Estherfern gasped, the first to notice the newcomer in the chaos and rain. There was more fear in her eyes than Yarrowclaw had seen since Mosspounce carried Foampaw's mangled body into camp. Yet at the sight of Yarrowclaw, Estherfern's blown-out pupils relaxed, ever so slightly. "The vision. Just as your ancestors predicted." Estherfern turned toward Troutpool and Tallowheart, who limped away from the thick waters in the back of the den. "Stay with Yarrowclaw, you two. Nothing will happen if you do."
Yes! Yarrowclaw wouldn't let anyone die at her side. A silly storm couldn't kill her. Nothing could! Yarrowclaw bit her tongue. Blood mixed with saltwater.
"Midnightpaw, your brothers and mothers are just out of camp," Yarrowclaw huffed. "I won't let you get dragged off." Midnightpaw stirred from his blind panic, risking a long look at the brown warrior. Honeybuzz took his chance—he shoved Midnightpaw out of his little corner and into Yarrowclaw, splashing all the way.
"We need to get Indigo," Weevilsight coughed as the group trudged out of the medicine den. "They're in the quarantine den. They're still too weak to move through all this."
"I'll get him, I'll get him," Yarrowclaw huffed. She squinted as the full force of the rain once again burned her eyes. The floodwaters dragged at her fur, trying to keep her still.The camp was empty now, everyone else had evacuated. They knew Yarrowclaw couldn't die. No force of nature could contain her! The longer Yarrowclaw stayed in camp, the easier it was to believe that.
"Wait, look," Tallowheart wheezed, wincing as the effort of talking pressed against his broken ribs. A pale ginger figure slipped around the curve of the shipwreck, keeping a lilac cat on their paws.
"Pearpaw?" Troutpool gasped as Pearpaw helped Indigo shove through the heavy waters. "Why haven't you left camp yet? It isn't safe for an apprentice!"
"It isn't safe for Indigo, either, and no one was helping him!" Pearpaw snapped. She buckled as Indigo fell further into her, continuing to cough. Her shaking legs pressed hard into the unseen sand below and shoved Indigo back up.
"Knew I'd like this place," Indigo chuckled weakly. "Could do without the water, though."
"Wave!" Weevilsight screeched, her dark green eyes fixed on the rushing waters flowing over the rocks. Even though Yarrowclaw could not see or hear another massive wave, she knew Weevilsight's clairvoyance was never wrong. Yarrowclaw shoved Honeybuzz and Midnightpaw toward the western walls.
"Brace!" Yarrowclaw ordered as the creaking sound of another massive wave finally reached her ears.
The clerics and their patients swarmed the rocks, pressing themselves flat against the slick stones. Everyone breathed as deep as they could as the next tidal wave smacked over the entire camp. The ocean shoved Yarrowclaw into the wall as hard as it could. She couldn't move, even with her star-blessed invinciblity. The pressure shoved the air out of Yarrowclaw's chest, but she refused to breathe in water. Her face shoved into Honeybuzz's flank, and Midnightpaw's yowl of panic was suffocated by the onslaught.
When the chaos receeded, the water covered Yarrowclaw's belly. Pearpaw, Indigo, and everyone from the medicine den remained along the western wall, leaning against the rocks, struggling for breath. But they were there. Thanks to Yarrowclaw.
"Swim," Yarrowclaw barked, once more shoving Honeybuzz where she needed him to go. The bandages around Midnightpaw's face came undone from the water weight, revealing half-scarred and snarled red marks crossing over his swollen left eye. He instintively hovered at Pearpaw's side, just far enough to stay out of Indigo's way, but just close enough to keep his good eye on his friend. Tallowheart whimpered in pain, shaking as the water splashed against his bruised chest, but Troutpool and Estherfern helped him on.
The brambles of the camp exit were somehow still in place, forming a tight tunnel with barely enough room to breach the water. Not for them, then. The rest of the brambles that typically lined the rock walls were gone, so that would be the group's way out. Yarrowclaw scaled the smallest of those rocks. Her brittle paws rubbed hard against the rain-slick boulders. Honeybuzz climbed up and over, splashing hard in the open waters beyond camp. One by one, the occupants of the medicine den helped one another over the wall and out of their flooded camp.
The beach was gone. It lurked under the belly-high floodwaters, claimed by the feral ocean. Still, the ocean could not claim everything. RippleClan gathered at the treeline, panting and shivering. They yowled the clerics' names, running back to the water to help their kin to shore.
"Pearpaw!" Icepaw bolted ahead of the adults, charging at his sister. "You were supposed to be behind me!" Icepaw dragged his sister out of the water. Scaleripple slipped behind him and helped Indigo limp into the safe confines of thick, rolling roots.
"Midnightpaw!" When the wounded black apprentice made it to the forest, Rattlepelt wrapped herself around him, shaking harder than anyone else. Further back, Yarrowclaw saw Brightreed nursing his bramble-torn pelt, blood dissolving in the heavy rain. Wildclaw sat hunched in on herself, Whiteflower and Shrewflame on either side. She was wailing.
Yarrowclaw could not see Valleypaw.
"Stormjump!" Honeybuzz yowled as Oilstar and Carnationspeckle met the survivors at the edge of the muddy grass. "Stormjump! Where are my sons?" Oh. Had Yarrowclaw not been in the mindset that she could fight the ocean and win, her stomach might have dropped. She had been focused on getting everyone she saw out, not checking who should have been there in the first place.
"They weren't in the medicine den?" Oilstar gulped, voice strained. Honeybuzz's pupils blew out wide. "Honeybuzz, I saw them, your kits were sleeping with you tonight, you wanted to watch over Stormjump's infection."
"I sent them back!" Honeybuzz shrieked. His cicada wing necklace, still clinging to his neck after all the chaos, whipped against his neck as he spun back toward the camp. "Stormjump felt better! They're in the nursery!"
The nursery… the nursery with a giant rock in front of it… the nursery Yarrowclaw didn't think to check.
[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Yarrowclaw stand in the rain. Yarrowclaw says, "Treat the injured. I can do it. I can get your family out. I can't die."]
It's fine. You're fine. You're you. You'll get them out. They'll be fine. You'll bring them back. They can't die if you don't let them. Just go back.
No! Yarrowclaw was mortal! She'd probably drown trying to save them! She couldn't get them alone! She could lead a patrol. Yes, that was it. She just needed help. The vision never suggested it was all on Yarrowclaw.
Honeybuzz ran for the water, but Yarrowclaw instinctively stepped in front of him.
"No," she growled. "Treat the injured. I can do it. I can get your family out. I can't die." Her spastic eyes stuck onto the nearest cat. "Carnationspeckle. You're a good swimmer. We have to get them." Yarrowclaw almost wanted Carnationspeckle to reject, to pull rank, to force Yarrowclaw to stay with the rest of the Clan while other cats, cats who knew when their bodies were tired, cats who could give up, took her place. But Carnationspeckle turned to her mate, fear raising her hackles. Oilstar nodded.
"Venturedapple, we need your strength," Carnationspeckle called into the grieving, shocked crowd. Venturedapple emerged tall, eyes hard and ready.
"They're my kits!" Honeybuzz yowled. He tried to skirt around Yarrowclaw, but Splashtuft, Drumtooth, and Leathermask (who had luckily woken up from whatever blow he'd sustained earlier) lunged at their brother. The littermates pulled Honeybuzz into the crowd by his scruff as the gold and white cleric screamed, "They need me!"
"You're barely standing!" Drumtooth snarled, pinning his brother into the muddy grass.
"Your kits don't need their father drowning tonight," Leathermask said. He smacked Honeybuzz's flailing paws down.
"They can't end up like Mom," Honeybuzz whined. His claws pulled up large chunks of grass.
"The others will get them," Splashtuft promised. Of course they would. No one around Yarrowclaw would die. Whether StarClan simply knew it to be true for the night or whether they blessed her, Yarrowclaw was the ship that could bring them back to shore.
Yarrowclaw left Honeybuzz pinned by his brothers and charged back into the water with Carnationspeckle and Venturedapple behind her. Water now flowed steadily over the tops of the rock wall. Carnationspeckle leaped over the camp walls and dove into the submerged clearing. Water flew up Yarrowclaw's nose as she followed. The rock she had seen earlier, rolled in front of the nursery by the impact of the first massive wave, still sat, trapping its occupants within.
"Stormjump!" Venturedapple called, floating into the barricading rock. "Kits! Can you hear us!"
"Venturedapple!" It was Morningkit! His voice slipped through the rain-filled cracks of the blockage. "Help!"
"Everyone on this side," Carnationspeckle barked, swimming around the den. Yarrowclaw waded after her. "Venturedapple, Yarrowclaw, you need to push this boulder as hard as you can. I'm going to dive and dig out the sand around the rock, make it easier to move. Now push!" Venturedapple positioned himself next to Yarrowclaw. His long fur floated in the churning water. Carnationspeckle breathed deep and shoved her head under. Yarrowclaw braced her front paws on the rock. Venturedapple copied her. Hind legs digging into the sand, shaking under the pressure of the moving floodwaters, they pushed.
Don't think about Carnationspeckle. She doesn't matter. She doesn't even need to dig. You don't need any of them to save the kits. You can move this boulder all by yourself. StarClan chose you for this. Your legs don't hurt. You can't feel pain. You don't get tired. This isn't a bad thing. This is the best thing that could happen. Push the rock. Save those kits.
"Be kind to yourself, Yarrowclaw."
Yarrowclaw yowled as the boulder finally, finally, rolled a mouse-length back. Yarrowclaw couldn't see inside. Carnationspeckle pulled her head out of the water, sand caught in her fur. Yarrowclaw's legs gave out as Carnationspeckle and Venturedapple hooked their paws through the opening. With one last shove, the rock tumbled out from the entrance of the nursery.
The nursery was almost flooded to the ceiling. The deep, safe confines that Yarrowclaw spent her earliest days were hidden in the flood. A dark ginger form floated by the ceiling like debris far at sea. Three tom-kits clung to Stormjump's back. Their claws drew blood from their beloved mother, but she kept their small heads above the rising water. Stormjump's face was… peaceful.
Yarrowclaw grabbed Beekit by the scruff. He looked eerily like his father; same golden head and tail, same blue eyes, same white torso. It made the night loop in Yarrowclaw's head as Carnationspeckle pulled Patchkit and Morningkit close. Venturedapple grabbed Stormjump's still scruff and pulled her body out of the nursery.
"Mom told us to hold on to her," Patchkit stammered. "We held on, but, but we hurt her!" Carnationspeckle lifted Patchkit onto Venturedapple's sturdy back. Morningkit climbed on top of Carnationspeckle
"Where's Dad?" Beekit cried, squirming in Yarrowclaw's chattering jaws.
"We're bringing you to him," Carnationspeckle promised, voice breaking. "Just stay on us. You did so well. Stormjump is so proud of you." With the kits balanced as high above the water as they could carry them, the three brown and white cats waded toward the watery rocks and the forest beyond.
This didn't make sense. No one around Yarrowclaw was supposed to die. Why wasn't Stormjump moving? This wasn't what the vision said!
A ship could still bring a body to shore, it seemed.
(Yarrowclaw: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Wildclaw: 92, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
The Witch Hunters find and kill Lemmy, leaving RippleClan in a strange state.
[Image ID: Darkkick, Terracottafoot, and Paleseed face Weevilsight. Paleseed says "Weevilsight?"]
Weevilsight nearly couldn't muster the energy for the Gathering. The last visit to StarClan's Shrine had been exhausting enough; Troutpool nearly cried when Trumpetspore didn't visit her dreams, and Weevilsight forgot her promise to Wolverineheart, to learn if Foampaw approved of her relationship with Mitespark, until just before the tortoiseshell cleric woke up. All the other clerics seemed forgiving of RippleClan's spaciness, yet Weevilsight dug her fangs into her lip and focused on her work. And part of that work was attending the Gathering.
Weevilsight and Honeybuzz were the only clerics accompanying the Clan to the Leader's Stone. Troutpool didn't want to face the official announcement of Trumpetspore's death, and Estherfern had to look after Gingerpaw, who somehow came up with the worst joke possible at Trumpetspore's vigil and was banned from the last winter Gathering. And thus, Weevilsight trailed within the middle of the RippleClan horde, following Downstar and Oilstripe along the SlugClan/WheatClan border. With Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver staying behind, Weevilsight found herself with a duo she rarely got to interact with.
"I don't care how old they get," Paleseed said, adjusting her feather decor as she walked, "Terracottafoot is always going to look like a tiny scared apprentice to me. I can't believe how much they've grown! It's been ages since we had a chance to sit down with them, hasn't it, Darkkick?"
"We talked with them at Harvest Moon," Darkkick scoffed, fluffing herself up against the cold night wind.
"That was five moons ago!" Paleseed pointed out. "Before all… that happened."
"I thought mediators weren't supposed to avoid sensitive topics," Darkkick hummed.
"I'm trying to be respectful," Paleseed said. Even though the gray mediator was on Darkkick's right, and Weevilsight walked on her left, Weevilsight still saw the strained glance Paleseed sent her way.
"Why mince words?" Weevilsight laughed, venom in her voice. "My mom killed our Clanmates, my dad died, my aunt killed herself. I'm sure Terracottafoot can offer you some comfort." Considering Darkkick's short stature, she and Paleseed looked like a stunned, two-headed beast in the moonlight, their gaits evenly matched as they bawked at Weevilsight.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told your friend after the Shardling incident," Darkkick eventually huffed. "You handled that as best you could."
"I know that, Darkkick," Weevilsight sighed, staring at the cloud-lined moon as she walked. "I'm just going to feel like foxdung for a while."
"And that's okay," Paleseed added with a decisive nod. "You do what you need to do to grieve and come to terms with it all. You can always talk to me."
"I think she needs a friend, not a mediator, Paleseed," Darkkick muttered.
"Both work," Weevilsight hummed as the Clan approached the rock wall leading up to the Leader's Stone. It was slick with snow, making RippleClan's approach a slow and methodical process. Rabbitjoy walked along the edge of the path up, guarding Frostpaw from a potential fall. Boughfur took Tallowheart's basket while the rock-footed tom inched up the wall. A clump of snow fell from the grass above and smacked onto Stormjump's head, earning a laugh from her mate. Weevilsight's paws felt lighter. It felt normal, for the first time all winter.
As usual, RippleClan was the last Clan to arrive. Ospreystar, Eelstar, Gentlestar, and Lettucestar waited on the Leader's Stone while their Clans waited for their cue to mingle and share tongues. Downstar climbed to the second-highest platform of the Leader's Stone while Oilstripe took her traditonal place among the other deputies. Weevilsight laid in the half-melted snow and stared lazily at the Leader's Stone. The sooner announcements were done, the better.
The winter had been hard on the other four Clans in more traditional ways. WheatClan lost an overeager apprentice in the cold and an elder to distemper. LynxClan reported on harsh conditions in their rocky territory and gave their neighbors an official plea for hunting assistance. SlugClan and AshClan were a bit quieter, reporting a new litter and a death each, but Weevilsight couldn't help but notice how Eelstar and Lettucestar glanced at Downstar as they spoke.
"Before you begin your report, Downstar," Ospreystar said just as Eelstar finished delivering his news, "I want to say something that I didn't get the chance to last moon, when you announced the death of Mosspounce." The brown-speckled leader stood taller and faced the five Clans. "I want to formally declare LynxClan's gratitude to Mosspounce of RippleClan for killing the cougar that nearly destroyed us moons ago. He delivered the fatal blow, and for that, we hope that his story is honored with the same respect as Cougarstrike, Celestial of Cougars. LynxClan will hold a place in our hearts for RippleClan's brave caretaker."
"Mosspounce! Mosspounce!" the LynxClan cats cheered. Weevilsight sat up. Her ears rang with the sound of her father's name. Some of Weevilsight's Clanmates took up the cheer as well; Carnationspeckle and Asterblaze were particularly vocal. Weevilsight stayed still, unconsciously holding her breath. Her father was a hero.
"Take it with a drop of mouse bile, Weevilsight," Darkkick warned as the cheers began to die down. "I'm sure they are grateful, but this wh ole show is likely planned to win Downstar's favor. I'm sure LynxClan will be asking us for something soon."
"Thank you, Ospreystar," Downstar purred. "It does an old soul good to know that my grandson's fatal wounds were obtained for a good cause. I'm afraid that isn't the end of RippleClan's recent string of loss, however." Downstar shifted and prepared herself for the news. Weevilsight sank back down. Paleseed dipped her head and closed her eyes. "I'm sure some of you have learned of this, whether through meetings at the border or at the historian's gathering hosted by SlugClan this new moon. However, I regret to inform you that Trumpetspore, my granddaughter, took her own life shortly after the last Gathering." Quiet, shocked gasps rippled through the clearing. Eyes pierced the RippleClan delegation. Weevilsight closed her eyes and pretended she was alone.
"I'm sorry, Downstar," Gentlestar gulped, placing a paw on Downstar's platform above her.
"We ask that you respect our privacy surrounding this event," Downstar continued, "and know that Trumpetspore did her best against what can be the worst enemy a warrior fights; their own heart." Mutters of agreement washed over Weevilsight. She prayed no one would pry her for information. "Outside of this loss, we have no Gathering-worthy news to report. I say we get on with the Gathering proper and try to enjoy ourselves tonight." The other leaders nodded along with Downstar's idea. With that, the Clans merged. A wave of friends from other Clans crashed into RippleClan, firing questions of concern and morbid curiosity. Weevilsight wasn't ready; Yellowburst bumped into her flank, knocking her into a WheatClan historian. Weevilsight stumbled back, one of her signature petals fluttering out of her pelt.
"Terracottafoot is over there!" Paleseed called, peering over the crowd. "This way!" Darkkick looped her tail around Weevilsight and gently nudged her toward Paleseed. Paleseed pierced the crowd, leaving a trail for Weevilsight and Darkkick to follow. Questions bounced off Paleseed's pelt. She deflected them with the skill of an expert mediator, offering polite, if not slightly dismissive, answers.
Terracottafoot, as was their habit, prepared a game of moss-ball to the side of the crowd. They set up small "dens", or overturned baskets, on either end of the massive play area and merged loose chunks of moss together. They scented the three RippleClan cats and turned to greet them. Weevilsight tried to imagine what Terracottafoot looked like as a "tiny scared apprentice". Sure, the AshClan cleric carried themself with a constant air of tension; they were always moving, whether through the twitch of their whiskers or the methodical wave of their tail. But they were mature, as well-muscled as a warrior and, much to Weevilsight's embarassment, as handsome as they came (oh how Honeybuzz teased her as an apprentice for that little crush).
"Hi, Paleseed," Terracottafoot chirped, touching noses with Paleseed. "StarClan, I'm happy to see you. I've wanted to say something about your sisters, but I didn't know what."
"I try to focus on the siblings I still have," Paleseed chuckled, licking her chest.
"Keeping out of trouble?" Darkkick hummed, staring Terracottafoot up and down.
"I do what I can," Terracottafoot said. They touched noses with the former AshClan cleric and turned to Weevilsight. "Cleric Weevilsight, you didn't tell me about Warrior Trumpetspore at the half-moon meeting. Is that why Cleric Troutpool was so upset?"
"We didn't want to make the meeting all about us," Weevilsight sighed. Her paw absently snagged Terracottafoot's moss-ball and rolled it under her paw.
"I'm sorry about that, regardless," Terracottafoot said. They glanced past the RippleClan cats and groaned, "Oh StarClan he's already telling Downstar." Weevilsight looked back. Eelstar spoke with Downstar on the Leader's Stone. Both seemed deeply serious.
"Telling her what?" Darkkick huffed.
"I'm not a storyteller," Terracottafoot gulped, "but there were these Witch Hunters at our border and they told us… uh… do you want their story or the summary?"
"Tell us what they told you," Paleseed suggested.
"Well," Terracottafoot groaned. They stared at Darkkick, gaze pointedly refusing to touch Weevilsight. "Apparently Lemmy showed up in the human settlement last moon. One of the Witch Hunters picked a fight with her, and, well, that Witch Hunter ended up dead. The Witch Hunters were really mad at that, I think the dead Witch Hunter just had kits and the humans took them away? I can't remember that part. But, um, the Witch Hunter General ordered them to find Lemmy, and they did… Lemmy's dead now." The words didn't quite reach Weevilsight's ears.
"Say that again?" Weevilsight said, rubbing her ears.
"The Witch Hunters killed Lemmy," Terracottafoot said. "I think their patrol thought we were RippleClan? We didn't get a chance to explain. They showed up a few days ago. I'm really sorry, Weevilsight." Weevilsight's claws pierced the moss-ball. The chatter of the Gathering clawed her ears. Her heart beat faster.
"Weevilsight?" Paleseed whispered. She reached a paw toward Weevilsight, but Darkkick pushed it down.
Lemmy's dead. Lemmy's dead. Lemmy's dead.
Mom's dead.
"Stars damn it!" Weevilsight yowled. She chucked the moss-ball as hard and as fast as she could. It smacked into the basket and sent it rolling toward the treeline. "I want to kill someone!"
"Weevilsight—" Paleseed and Terracottafoot both stammered.
"Shut up, both of you," Darkkick snapped, shoving her tail in front of the pair. "Let her be."
"She made mistakes!" Weevilsight groaned. "Stupid, awful mistakes, it got out of control!" She paced in a circle, as though trying to get comfortable in a nest. "She wasn't a monster! She wanted to keep me safe! They didn't have to kill her! StarClan, she never even knew Dad died! Why did this happen? Why did she have to kill Potterypool? I can't even decide if I love her or hate her! Augh!" Weevilsight sat in a huff, tail thrashing. She stared at the snowy ground, head spinning. Her jaw dug into her head so hard, she thought she'd break a tooth.
Paleseed crept past Darkkick and toward the rolling basket. She put a paw on the basket, stopping its retreat. She plucked the moss-ball from inside and stared at it. Her tail waved gently as she thought.
"Terracottafoot?" Paleseed asked. "Do you have any AshClan cats who'd like to play against RippleClan in a game of moss-ball?"
"I can ask around," Terracottafoot said hesistantly, still inching toward Weevilsight. "Shouldn't we help—"
"I don't need help, Terracottafoot," Weevilsight huffed at the ground, voice monotone.
"I seem to recall you being good with a moss-ball as a kit," Paleseed said. She tossed the moss-ball to Weevilsight. It rolled to a stop in front of her paws. "Want to put that rage of yours to good use? It would be an insult to Clan pride if we let AshClan beat us."
"Go get your Clan, kit," Darkkick scoffed. Terracottafoot cocked their head, but eventually sighed, chuckling at the same time. They jogged toward the larger crowd.
"For our players, I think we should recruit…" Paleseed hummed, studying the Gathering. "Boughfur, Stormjump, Yellowburst, Shrewflame, and Wolverineheart." Darkkick nodded along with Paleseed's assessment. "So, Weevilsight? Want to join?" Weevilsight gently snagged the moss-ball in her claws. She held it up to the light of the bonfire by the Leader's Stone. Did the color match Mosspounce's eyes? They had been so scarred at the end, Weevilsight almost couldn't remember…
"Let's kill these foxhearts," Weevilsight growled, tossing the moss-ball back to Paleseed.
"Metaphorically, though!" Paleseed chuckled awkwardly. "I'll go get the others." Paleseed passed the moss-ball to Darkkick and followed Terracottafoot's trail. Weevilsight sat next to Darkkick, unable to stop her thrashing tail.
"I'll help you hide the bodies," Darkkick chuckled.
A short time later, Weevilsight stood with her Clanmates in front of one of the baskets. Somehow, it seemed the whole group managed to escape the fog of grief imposed by Trumpetspore's death and laughed like kits as they prepared for the game. A gaggle of AshClan cats guarded the other basket across the clearing, throwing taunts toward the RippleClan cats. Paleseed and Terracottafoot stood in the middle, moss-ball sitting between them. A crowd of apprentices and warriors from the other Clans gathered to watch as they shared tongues.
"If it's been a while since any of you have played an organized game of moss-ball," Paleseed explained, "let us remind you. You are each on a patrol of seven cats, facing off against another patrol. Your job is to get the moss-ball past the enemy patrol and into their den, in this case the basket, to score points. No holding the moss-ball in your mouth, you have to catch it in your claws and toss it to your patrol members. If the other patrol has the moss-ball, you need to either make them drop it or grab it out of their paws, again, no teeth allowed. And no den guarding, you have to give the other patrol a chance to throw the moss-ball in. For this game, let's say… first to fifteen points wins. Any questions?"
"Do we have to be gentle with the cleric?" a dark red molly asked, nodding at Weevilsight.
"I won't be gentle with you," Weevilsight growled, ears tilted back. An excited bark of laughter and cheering rippled through the bystanders. The AshClan patrol laughed and yowled along with them.
"What about Darkkick?" asked a black and white tom, barely out of apprenticeship. "I feel bad fighting an elder."
"Darkkick fought Autumnstar, in the actual Dark Forest," Boughfur laughed, unweaving the blue flowers from her fur and placing them to the side of the game area. "I don't think you should be worried about hurting her, of all cats."
"Ready to run back to camp with your tails between your legs?" Shrewflame called, his tail high.
"I'm ready to feed you dirt, pretty kitty!" yowled the dark red molly.
"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" Shrewflame purred, wiggling his flank. "Why thank you!" Stormjump and Yellowburst laughed at Shrewflame, starting a wave of giggles across the crowd.
"Everyone go at my command!" Terracottafoot yowled, jogging out of the soon-to-be battlefield with Paleseed, leaving the moss-ball behind. All players shifted into battle poses. Weevilsight copied them as best she could. All eyes were on the moss-ball.
"Darkkick, stay in the back," Yellowburst whispered. "You can catch the moss-ball before it gets to the den."
"And miss out on clawing some AshClan fur?" Darkkick snapped in just such a way that Weevilsight couldn't tell if she was mad or teasing. "There's no chance of that."
As the pair argued, the AshClan patrol sparkled in Weevilsight's eyes. Ghostly doubles of the AshClan warriors launched toward the moss-ball. Sparkling premonitions of Weevilsight's Clanmates charged at the approaching patrol in return. Wolverineheart's future transparent form shoved into the dark red molly's shoulder. Her attack gave the black and white tom just enough time to slip around the charging enemy force and snatch the moss-ball in his claws. Weevilsight hadn't even seen that tom in the mass of cats yet-to-charge.
"Attack!" Terracottafoot cheered. Weevilsight's vision popped like seafoam. History repeated itself; the AshClan patrol ran at the moss-ball like stampeding horses. Wolverineheart led the RippleClan charge. No one noticed the black and white tom, running low against his taller Clanmates. He was invisible in the rush of fire-lit pelts. An afterimage of the tom's future position still flashed in Weevilsight's eyes.
Weevilsight lunged toward the empty space. Just as she neared it, just as she began to doubt her sight, there he was; the black and white tom, swooping past Wolverineheart to grab the moss-ball. Weevilsight smacked into him a whisker's length from the moss-ball. Weevilsight and the black and white tom tumbled back into the mass of swarming cats, each shocked at the other's appearance.
Stormjump rolled behind Weevilsight and snatched the moss-ball. She flicked her paw and sent the moss-ball soaring across the clearing. Shrewflame darted alongside the flying object. He jumped as though catching a bird mid-flight. Both front paws wrapped around the moss-ball.
Another premonition flashed within the mass of playful warriors. Shrewflame's ghostly paw launched a purple transparent moss-ball toward the AshClan den. A lilac and cream tortoiseshell streaked past her Clanmates and caught the moss-ball against her shoulder.
"Run with it, Shrewflame!" Weevilsight yowled as the black and white tom finally shoved her off. She fell onto her back, staring at the cloud-speckled night while the rest of the group hurried past her. All of the petals that clung to her pelt rubbed off in the snow and grass.
Weevilsight hurried back to her paws, only to see she was too late; the lilac and cream tortoiseshell stopped the moss-ball with her shoulder, just as predicted. But would Weevilsight let that go? Absolutely not. She had to sit by while her mother was exiled, while her father died, while her Clan suffered not under the claws of some Spirit of Shadow, something Weevilsight was born to fight, but mortals and the dangers of the everyday. She didn't have to let this go.
Weevilsight was not going to lose this game.
Weevilsight scrambled as the AshClan tortoiseshell tossed the moss-ball to the dark red molly. Darkkick thundered past Weevilsight, catching the eye of the dark red molly. Weevilsight yowled and sprung at the dark red molly. Weevilsight's sheathed paws batted the dark red molly's head. The dark red molly swung at Weevilsight, but the moss-ball slipped from her claws in the process. Darkkick swiped it from underneath the fighting mollies and batted it back toward the AshClan den. The dark red molly turned to follow, but Weevilsight shrieked and dragged the AshClan molly back by the tail. Her mouth burned with the taste of cat fur, that awful scent of combat that she still despised after so many moons, but the thoughtless rage bubbling in her throat forced her to remind herself, training grip, training grip, training grip.
A cheer ripped through the bystanders. Weevilsight let go of the dark red molly's tail. Boughfur had jumped into the AshClan den, moss-ball stuck to her claws. She looked like a rabbit crawling into a hole. Weevilsight laughed, but it was more like the cauterwaul of a rabid beast than anything funny.
"Clerics are mad," the dark red molly grumbled, hurrying back to her Clanmates.
Mad? Oh that was the right word for Weevilsight at the moment, as her patrol cheerfully regrouped by their den for the next round. Weevilsight was certain the actual grief would hit her when she got back to camp. But in that moment, with the freedom to run and scream and tackle and fight? Weevilsight could be as mad as she needed to be.
(Weevilsight: 27, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
[Image ID: Midnightkit and Valleykit face Carnationspeckle, both in trouble. Midnightkit says "Why didn't Rattlepelt come get me?" Under Midnightkit, it says + NEW SKILL: ALWAYS WANDERING. Under Valleykit, it says + NEW SKILL: AVID PLAY-FIGHTER.]
SlugClan attacks RippleClan in hopes of recovering Icekit and Pearkit for their newest members, Nimblestep and Quickkit.
[Image ID: Lettucestar, a white tom with a scar, and Lighttrail face Downstar, Wolverineheart, Wildclaw, Yarrowclaw, and Leathermask. Lettucestar says, "I'm sorry, Downstar, but I can't take no for an answer. Nimblestep is their mother, not Puddlewhisper." Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 1. Under Leathermask, it says LEVEL UP! NERVOUS → CONFIDENT.[
---
Downstar could tell it would be a late spring as she stepped out of her den on the last day of the year and into the thick, dry snow. It had snowed from one sunset and through another without stopping, leaving snowdrifts as tall as cats against the rocks and trees. It wasn't a bitter cold, though, like the one that plagued the Clans a few moons prior. This was a cold that energized Downstar's aching muscles and told the whole Clan to have a bit of fun!
The kits were certainly taking advantage of the heavy snowfall. Pearkit and Icekit dug at the snow like dogs while Midnightkit and Valleykit watched, wide-eyed. Stormjump groomed herself outside the warrior's den in a pale attempt to hide her watchful eye resting on the kits. The clerics cleared snow out from around the medicine den, but there was a shine to their eyes that brought a purr to Downstar's throat. Gingerpaw rambled to Weevilsight as the pair dug a path from the medicine den to the bonfire. Weevilsight laughed at one of Gingerpaw's silly faces, further easing Downstar's heart. If the recent heartbreak of the season could be forgotten, even for a moment, there was hope for RippleClan.
There was no hope of telling the time that day, save for the natural rhythm of day and night inside every cat. The sky was an endless silver expanse. Not a single cloud could be distinguished from another. It was as gray as a clear day's sky was blue. The unbroken bright light reflected off the snow stunned Downstar's eyes. Were it not for her nose, she might have bumped into Oilstripe, who trotted toward the leader's den.
"Good morning, Downstar," Oilstripe reported, ears perking up in front of her leader. "We have a few patrols out already. Vervaincough and Darkkick joined Billowhaze, Whitepaw, and Boughfur on an expedition to study the snow, but they promised to mark the southern border while they were there. Carnationspeckle, Tallowheart, and Drumtooth are fishing along the northern coast. Lastly, Rabbitjoy took Mitespark and Frostpaw to trade with WheatClan. They'll be gone the longest."
"Busy morning," Downstar hummed.
"Everyone wants to be out of camp today," Oilstripe sighed, stretching her front legs.
"I can manage the camp if you want to lead a patrol," Downstar said. She flicked her ears toward the camp exit. "This will likely be our last bit of snow until next winter."
"That's alright, Downstar," Oilstripe said a bit too quickly. "We have a lot to clear out of camp. I should manage that." Downstar grabbed Oilstripe's gaze and didn't let go. She studied her deputy's cyan eyes, so strangely blessed. Oilstripe's whiskers twitched uncomfortably, unable to view Downstar's thoughts as easily as she viewed hers.
"It's no good to have a distracted deputy," Downstar said. She sat in the curve of the Shiprock where the snow was thinner. "You're lingering around camp for another reason. Deputies should be open with their leaders."
"I can't tell if you're teasing me or reprimanding me," Oilstripe sighed. She sat next to Downstar, her focus drifting past her leader. The only sign of Downstar's hesistancy was the shift of her tail; she knew when she chose Oilstripe that she'd have to tolerate her ghost sight and the weird, almost blaphemous intrusion into the privacy of the visiting dead. She was good at that by now, and with a hard blink to wipe her mind, Downstar focused back on Oilstripe.
"It's about Rattlepelt," Oilstripe groaned. "I don't want to leave her alone." Downstar eyed the nursery. The snow's reflected light easily showed Rattlepelt and Wildclaw inside the den, still asleep. Wildclaw snuggled deep into Rattlepelt's fox pelt, and Rattlepelt shifted closer to her mate.
"I hope you remember you aren't the only other member of RippleClan," Downstar gently reminded her deputy. "There's always someone in camp."
"I'm not doubting anyone," Oilstripe said. She flexed her paw, poking tiny holes in the snow. The gentle motion gave her time to find her courage. "I'm scared for her, Downstar."
"Do you think she could harm herself?" Downstar asked. She regretted the question as soon as she said it. She never would have thought something like that a moon ago. But then again, a moon ago Downstar still had her granddaughter. Oilstripe caught her breath.
"No," she huffed. "No… but then again, I didn't think Trumpetspore could, either. I don't think I can truly judge what's in someone's heart."
"Blame is a weight I've borne for far too many circumstances outside of my control. Don't let it crush you."
"But don't I deserve some of the blame? We're leading this Clan, Downstar. When someone dies like this, what does it say about us? And what about Lemmy? Could we have stopped her?"
"You're rambling, Oilstripe." Downstar raised her tail to pause her deputy's spiraling thoughts. "I'm going to tell you something that it took me a long time to learn. If you did the best you could with what you knew, then blaming yourself is useless." Oilstripe breathed deep, nodding along with Downstar's advice.
"I'll try to remember that," Oilstripe sighed.
"So," Downstar huffed, getting up, "do you think Rattlepelt needs an extra eye on her?"
"I think she's struggling," Oilstripe said, picking her words carefully. "It's like what happened after the Shardling incident. I don't want this to hurt Rattlepelt's relationship with Wildclaw or their kits. Rattlepelt didn't even leave the nursery to check on Midnightkit yesterday." Yes, Downstar had noted that; out of the two mothers, Wildclaw was usually the one with an eye on Midnightkit and Valleykit as of late, and when she went on patrol, Midnightkit tried to follow. It hadn't been Downstar's place to comment on Rattlepelt's absence, but everyone noticed it.
"As the mother of your daughter-in-code rather than your leader," Downstar sighed, "don't worry about how Wildclaw feels. I'll take her out. Try not to worry. We'll help Rattlepelt as best we can." Downstar touched her nose to Oilstripe's head. Oilstripe gawked at the touch for a moment, eyes widening. She then purred and dipped her head. Her whole body softened. Downstar's work there was done; now onto her daughter.
Downstar left Oilstripe to her thoughts and entered the nursery. Her paws trapsing through the snow quickly woke Wildclaw. The scarred gray tabby lifted her head off her mate and yawned deeply. Her scar-lined tail swayed lazily.
"Wildclaw, I'm taking a sunrise patrol to mark our northwest borders," Downstar explained in a whisper. "I want you to come with. I'll even let you pick out who we bring."
"I'll be right there," Wildclaw grumbled, still yawning and blinking sleep from her eyes. She crawled over Rattlepelt, stretching her hind legs so high they nearly eclipsed her head. Rattlepelt shifted and threw a paw over her eyes. Wildclaw glanced back to her mate and whispered, "Rattlepelt, I'm going on patrol. The kits are playing outside. Do you need anything?"
"I can get it," Rattlepelt mumbled. She squirmed under her red pelt, but didn't get up. Downstar softly padded back out as Wildclaw whispered something else her aging ears could not catch.
Downstar trailed through camp, navigating around the kits' digging, and waited by the exit for her daughter. A few moments later, Wildclaw emerged from the nursery and jogged to the warrior's den, nodding to Stormjump as she passed. She seemed like the reckless young molly Downstar remembered from so many years ago, but there was a wisdom to her step and a thought in her eyes. Yes, Downstar did not need to worry about Wildclaw. The fierceness her named honored was truly something to respect now.
Some time later, Wildclaw joined Downstar at the exit with Wolverineheart, Yarrowclaw, and Leathermask. Downstar wasted no time leading the patrol into the cheerful winter. Wildclaw slipped beside her mother and pranced through the snow like a deer. Soft winds blew powdery snow off the trees, making it look like a second snowfall. The snow retained the memory of the wind in its swirling, smooth edges and gentle dance across the ground. The smell of Carnationspeckle's patrol drifted past, a soft reminder that they were never alone in RippleClan territory.
"You know who Midnightkit and Valleykit remind me of?" Downstar said as the patrol trekked through the forest. "You and Halibutdusk."
"Really?" Wildclaw huffed. "I don't see it."
"Midnightkit is going to be just as troublesome as you were, I'm certain of it," Downstar chuckled. "Valleykit has Halibutdusk's pensiveness."
"Valleykit just learned what birds are," Wildclaw laughed. "I think you might be insulting Halibutdusk there."
"They fit into our family, that's what I mean," Downstar hummed, studying Wildclaw's face. "You and Rattlepelt have done a good job so far. Just like you did with Shrewflame and Whitepaw. You'll all be alright in the end."
"I know, Mom," Wildclaw assured her. Her ears tilted back for a moment as she added, "I just need Rattlepelt to believe that."
"You've been through worse," Downstar reminded her. She stopped to rub an irritating itch on her back against a pine. "If you keep doing what you have been doing, it will work out."
"Downstar!" The whole patrol paused, ears high. Pale gray markings framed the green eyes of the tom who emerged from the depths of the forest. Lettucestar? His deputy, Lighttrail, walked alongside him, all thick ginger fur and confidence.
"Stop right there!" Wildclaw barked. She dove between Downstar and Lettucestar, lips curled tight and her body slithering like a rattlesnake ready to strike.
"This has to be a joke," Wolverineheart scoffed. "I get you're a Clan leader, but you can't just stroll into our territory without an escort!"
"Do you want to get attacked?" Yarrowclaw growled, showing off her fangs.
"Wait, wait," Downstar huffed. She pushed through her protective Clanmates, tail high to still their sudden fury. "Let me talk to him." Leathermask bristled, back arched high as Downstar approached the SlugClan leader. Wolverineheart and Yarrowclaw kept their claws out, but gave Downstar her room. Wildclaw stayed where she was, face curling in and out of battle rage.
"I know I'm intruding on your territory," Lettucestar huffed, keeping his tail low as a show of peace. "Waiting by the border would have been inappropriate. In a sad way, my purpose here isn't much different from the war patrol you brought to my camp almost a year ago." There was a mild venom in Lettucestar's voice that made Downstar's ears grow hot with old grief.
"Except Downstar's not losing her mind," Yarrowclaw grumbled.
"Yarrowclaw, you will not disrespect Gorgestar's memory in front of me," Downstar suddenly growled, turning on the brown and white molly. Yarrowclaw stiffened under Downstar's amber glare. "He was a good leader and my friend. You of all cats should know better than to make a joke of something like that." Yarrowclaw stared down, unmoving under Downstar's assault. Downstar bit back a hiss of frusteration; why in the world did Yarrowclaw have to make a comment like that? Now Downstar seemed like a weak leader! She would handle Yarrowclaw's coldness later; she had intruders to manage.
"It's once again an issue of miscommunication," Lettucestar sighed. "Lighttrail, you're the better storyteller of the two of us. Explain the situation to Downstar and her warriors." Lighttrail stepped forward, clearing his throat. He looked like a kit in Downstar's eyes. Then again, at Downstar's age, most cats looked like kits.
"Recently, SlugClan encounter a loner queen and her kit by the river," Lighttrail said. "The kit was sick with feather-head, so we offered to provide treatment. The queen grew to trust us, and the pair decided to join SlugClan. They are now known as Nimblestep and Quickkit, though you would have known the queen as simply Nimble." Nimble. So much had happened that winter, Downstar almost forgot that Puddlewhisper was not Pearkit and Icekit's birth mother.
"Wait," Leathermask grunted. "Nimble joined SlugClan? No, she hates the Clans."
"Her mate hated the Clans," Lighttrail said with the patience of a mentor with their apprentice. Downstar couldn't stop her jaw from tightening at the tone. "Nimblestep supported and followed Achilles, but once she understood we only wanted to help Quickkit, she learned to trust us."
"It's not like we didn't try to do that!" Wolverineheart whined. "She wouldn't listen to us!"
"Your Clanmates murdered Achilles in cold blood," Lighttrail scoffed, twitching his whiskers. "Would you listen to yourselves?"
"No more comments, all of you," Downstar hissed, thrashing her tail. This was no time to be debating the details.
"She told us about her other kits, Downstar," Lettucestar finally sighed. "A silver tom and a pale ginger molly. They're Icekit and Pearkit, aren't they?" Wildclaw paced behind Downstar. Her jaw twitched with unspoken words. Her paws crunched heavily into the snow, turning it to slush.
"They are," Downstar admitted. "Nimble ran—Nimblestep ran from our patrol, but only took a brown kit. Quickkit, I assume. She abandoned the rest of her litter."
"A mistake she wants to correct," Lettucestar said, stepping closer to Downstar. "We're here to take Icekit and Pearkit back to their mother."
"Take?" Downstar and Wildclaw yowled in unison. Lighttrail unseathed his claws and crouched into a battle stance. Lettucestar hovered his tail over his deputy's shoulder. Downstar steadied her breath and grounded her paws flat, letting the cold sap her sudden anger.
"Lettucestar, Icekit and Pearkit are RippleClan cats now," Downstar said slowly. "All they've known is RippleClan. Puddlewhisper is raising them. Taking them would be cruel. Nimblestep abandoned them to what she thought would be their deaths. How can we trust she has their best intentions at heart?"
"She's a SlugClan warrior now," Lettucestar said, his words just as slow and restrained as Downstar's tone. "We will help her raise the kits, just as I'm sure your caretakers help Puddlewhisper."
"I'm happy to discuss Nimblestep visiting our camp," Downstar huffed. "If she wants a relationship with Icekit and Pearkit, I don't want to deny her that. But simply taking them? They aren't prey. Do you think they'd ever be loyal to SlugClan if you forced them from their home?" Lettucestar sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and pulled his tail away from Lighttrail. His claws peeked out of his paws. The RippleClan patrol slunk closer to Downstar.
"Warriors!" Lettucestar yowled. The snow behind Lettucestar shifted. Pelts peeked out from the white and gray terrain, shoving off snowy coverings and emerging from behind trees and rocks. The RippleClan patrol hissed and snarled. There was an entire war patrol of SlugClan cats, hiding just fox-lengths away! The SlugClan warriors glistened with snow melting into their fur. Narrow eyes bore into Downstar, ready to tear and bite.
"I'm sorry, Downstar," Lettucestar sighed, shifting into a battle stance, "but I can't take no for an answer. Nimblestep is their mother, not Puddlewhisper. You can't claim her kits. I wanted us to agree on this, but if you won't take us to your camp, we'll just go through you."
"Yarrowclaw, warn camp, now!" Downstar yowled. Yarrowclaw leaped over Leathermask and skidded across the snow. She raced like a rabbit along the patrol's snowy prints, tail weaving between the trees.
"Don't let her get reinforcements!" Lettucestar ordered. Half of the SlugClan patrol bolted after Yarrowclaw, stomping and kicking their way through the snow. Leathermask yowled and launched himself into a lilac tortie, the war-hungry Carvingfur. The pair rolled back behind an ancient pine.
"Wolverineheart, help Yarrowclaw!" Downstar ordered as Lighttrail lunged for her. "We'll hold them back!" Wolverineheart ran after Yarrowclaw's hunters as Lighttrail smacked Downstar into the snow. Downstar raked her claws along Lighttrail's white chest. Blood immediately dripped from his pelt onto Downstar's face.
Lighttrail stumbled off, shrieking, as the rest of the patrol converged on Downstar and Wildclaw. There were three or four SlugClan warriors for each remaining RippleClan cat. At least Lighttrail wouldn't be a problem; he stumbled against a pine trunk and pressed his bleeding wounds into the snow.
"I'd like to see you take me, foxhearts!" Wildclaw cried. She hooked her claws into Carvingfur as she and Leathermask rolled back into the crowd. Wildclaw ripped Carvingfur off Leathermask and dug her teeth into the tortoiseshell's soft ear.
Sharp claws slashed Downstar's ankle. She tumbled forward into a black molly. A cream-colored tom pounced on Downstar's back. His claws tore into her ginger patches. Blinding pain ripped through Downstar's blood.
Lettucestar crouched by Lighttrail as the SlugClan warriors beat Downstar into the ground. The leader and deputy whispered to one another, mute under the screech of battle. With a decisive nod from Lighttrail, Lettucestar hurried past the fight toward the unseen coastline and RippleClan's camp.
Leathermask and Wildclaw fought back to back against Carvingfur and the other SlugClan warriors. They spun to face every blow. Nicks and scratches riddled their faces. Neither could get to Downstar.
The black molly and the cream-colored tom stepped off Downstar, blood staining their paws. Downstar's ears rang. She stared into the now pink snow. Her legs shook. The pain coursed through her back and toward her paws. Downstar couldn't get up. She couldn't help her daughter. Yarrowclaw and Wolverineheart had to get to camp. They had to protect the kits. That was what mattered.
A brown and white mass of long fur flew past Downstar's blurry vision. The figure landed on Carvingfur just before the tortoiseshell could claw at Leathermask's eyes. Carnationspeckle! Her hunting patrol! Drumtooth and Tallowheart dove into the fight behind their patrol leader. Tallowheart pulled Wildclaw and Leathermask out of the mess. Drumtooth whipped around the SlugClan warriors like a fish. He'd land one blow, then kick back at a sneaky warrior.
"They're going for camp," Wildclaw yowled over the ringing in Downstar's ears.
"Yarrowclaw got there first," Tallowheart gulped. The fighting in front of Downstar blurred. Downstar rested her chin on the cold, stained snow.
"Mom!"
It took a while for Downstar to die. From what she could tell, she drifted in a melting mass of dreams and noise until her strength finally left her. She couldn't tell how much time had passed, and could barely hold on to a single thought. The sounds of the battle rose and fell. They blended into orders and questions, making the line between war and peace impossible to see. Were the clerics there? They should focus on the camp. SlugClan would not have those kits!
Summer warmth licked Downstar's pelt. That oh-so-familiar ocean hum replaced the ringing in her ears. Her back no longer burned. Downstar rubbed her cheek on the sand. Oh Downstar had missed the summer. RippleClan needed that light and warmth once more.
StarClan's coastline was the same as ever; mountains far behind the forest, pure salty water nuzzling the shore. Sunhigh glistened at the top of the sky, honey-bright and as welcome as a warm nest at the end of a cold night. Now Downstar didn't want to get up at all. For now, she could breathe.
Yet who would greet her this time? She was never alone on that lovely beach. Locustseeker, Duskkit, Fennelspot, Rustshade, Scrubmask… someone always had a kind word to say. Who would be there this time? Maybe Downstar had to go find them.
Despite the tempting warmth of the sand, Downstar got to her paws. She stood quicker than she expected. Old age didn't plague her in the strange land of Silverpelt. Downstar scanned the shore. Down the coast, paws dipping into the slowly rising tide, a black tabby sat, waiting. Downstar's granddaughter was unmistakeable, even with the newly gained glimmer in her pelt.
"I shouldn't be surprised it's you," Downstar called. Trumpetspore turned at her grandmother's voice. Her ears pressed backward. She snapped her eyes down.
Downstar strolled down the beach. Her heartbeat matched the gentle pull of the waves. She slowed the closer she got to Trumpetspore. Trumpetspore's head dipped lower and lower.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm sorry, Downstar. I should have talked to you. I missed them so much, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt anyone."
"Oh, Trumpet," Downstar cooed. She placed her chin on Trumpetspore's warm head. She wrapped herself around Trumpetspore as the ageless black warrior shook. The hum of the ethereal ocean hid Trumpetspore's whimpers.
"I should have hung on," Trumpetspore whined.
"I know, I know," Downstar whispered. "It'll be alright now. I know, you're sorry."
Downstar wasn't sure how long she sat with her granddaughter. Those visits to StarClan rarely aligned with time in the living world, after all. Downstar just let the salt water soak her flank as she offered Trumpetspore a familiar shoulder.
"There are things I need to say," Trumpetspore eventually croaked, "before you go back." The pair pulled away, leaving imprints of each other in their pelts.
"I understand," Downstar sighed. "Tell me first, though. Did Lettucestar take the kits?"
"No," Trumpetspore said, clearing her throat. There was a shift in her starry eyes, a soft dance of light cascading across her glittering pelt. Her gaze drifted to something Downstar could not see. "Puddlewhisper hid them in the medicine den when Yarrowclaw got to camp. She pretended they were in the nursery until Lettucestar's patrol had to retreat."
"As clever as her mother," Downstar purred. Good, the kits were safe. For now, at least.
"Happier moons are ahead," Trumpetspore promised as her focus returned to Downstar. She stiffened and glanced down as she added, "If I had known that earlier…" Downstar had no comforting words for that. Trumpetspore breathed deep and stood taller.
"You're on your last life, Downstar," Trumpetspore said. Her voice gained the sort of regal, knowing tone Downstar had grown used to hearing from StarClan cats. "The next time you wake up on these shores, you will not return to RippleClan."
"I understand," Downstar said. She could feel her body pulling her down. The weight of her many moons flowed back through her muscles. She laid on the sand, which now felt more like moss and leather. Downstar's body was likely in the medicine den. "One thing before I wake up. Can you pass a message to Shadowdrop and your siblings?"
"Anything," Trumpetspore gulped. Downstar purred at the light in Trumpetspore's eyes.
"Tell them I love them."
(Downstar: 151, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)
Elmsprout and Lavendertwist welcome two kits into the world.
[Image ID: Elmsprout and Lavendertwist face two newborn kits; a ginger and white kit, and a pale silver kit with a few white markings. Under Elmsprout, it says - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Under the ginger kit, it says NEW PLAYER: GINGERKIT, 0, MALE, CHARMING. Under the silver kit, it says NEW PLAYER: FROSTKIT, 0, FEMALE, QUIET.]
(Lavendertwist: 50, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)
(Gingerkit: 0, male, kit, charming)
(Frostkit: 0, female, kit, quiet)
Currentsmoke expresses his concern about Yarrowclaw's recent behavior.
[Image ID: Mosspounce, Wolfgaze, Sandhollow, Weevilsight, and Anchovystrike run in a patrol, with Mosspounce calling "Yarrowclaw, get off the horse-path." Under Weevilsight, it says - INFECTION.]
---
Anchovystrike couldn't really share tongues with his brother, not like he wished he could. After all, Currentsmoke couldn't groom him back. It didn't help that the thick wound across Currentsmoke's face was still infected, covered in oozing concoctions. Weevilsight said the infections came and went, but to Anchovystrike, it all seemed like one big, continous disease. Yet that didn't matter. Injured or not, Currentsmoke was going to enjoy the anniversary celebration with the rest of RippleClan, basking in the sunhigh glow.
Most of the Clan was busy around Elmsprout and Lavendertwist. They had just given their litter of two, Frostkit and Gingerkit, their names, and everyone wanted to show the two tiny kittens what the warm sand and cool sea felt like. Meanwhile, the artisans and caretakers used some of RippleClan's precious salt to season enough prey for everyone. Anchovystrike and Weevilsight shared a woodpecker while Weevilsight helped Currentsmoke drink some salty, herb-soaked broth. The three cats basked in the summer sunshine, content with their meals.
"You know, Currentsmoke," Weevilsight sighed, nestling into the sand, "if you end up with a big scar from this, you won't be alone. Most of my tail has healed, but fighting that infection left a lot of the skin raw." Weevilsight showed off her tail, which no longer sported any bandages, as it had over the last few moons. Yet the skin was still pink and raw, irritated from exposure to other cats' diseases. The scarring ran across her ginger and black fur like new tortoiseshell markings. Had Weevilsight been a warrior, it would have been a mark of beauty.
"I duhn't care ah-out scars," Currentsmoke grumbled. "I just 'anna li'eh."
"You're not dying on us," Anchovystrike huffed, shoving Currentsmoke's shoulder. "You've got four clerics looking after you, and you've got me, Billowhaze, and Yarrowclaw keeping you busy. You're the best of us, Current. You're not going anywhere anytime soon." Currentsmoke purred and gently bunted heads with his brother, making sure not to touch his wounds. The supernatural glimmer in Weevilsight's pelt glowed brighter at the sight, and Anchovystrike purred just a bit harder. Yet as Anchovystrike dug into his share of the woodpecker, Currentsmoke tensed. Anchovystrike could feel Currentsmoke's tired muscles harden as he rested against him.
"More pain, Currentsmoke?" Weevilsight asked. She sniffed at Currentsmoke's jaw.
"Nuh," Currentsmoke mumbled. He scanned the happy crowd trapsing through the sand and salt water. Anchovystrike followed his gaze, unsure what he was looking for. "Souh'ing's wruhng 'ith Yarr'acla'ah."
"Yarrowclaw?" Anchovystrike clarified.
"She has been a little strange the last few moons," Weevilsight admitted. "Did you hear about her hunting patrol last moon?"
"She's been overworking herself, I know," Anchovystrike huffed. "But she realizes it eventually. She just gets into these moods lately."
"It's muhre than that," Currentsmoke insisted. The injured tom groaned and slowly pushed himself to his paws. His legs shook, his body's battle with his injuries draining too much strength from him to stay up for long. "She's nuh't here. Souh'ing's wruhng." Weevilsight pushed against Currentsmoke, making sure he didn't collapse. Currentsmoke tried to shake Weevilsight off, but hissed as the bandages restraining his jaw rubbed the wrong way.
Anchovystrike gave the anniversary celebration another look over. Was Yarrowclaw with Billowhaze? No, Billowhaze was joking with Wolfgaze and Ravenweaver over their own share of salty meat. Maybe she was spending time with her former mentor. No, that wasn't right either, Rapidleaf was talking through something with Estherfern, probably bonding over recent messages from StarClan or something of the sort. Yarrowclaw was close with Estherfern's litter, she was probably splashing through the water with them! And yet, no. Brightreed, Wolverineheart, Boughfur, and Thundergale were each busy with their own fun. Currentsmoke was right. Yarrowclaw wasn't at the anniversary celebration.
"Why do you think something is wrong?" Weevilsight asked, easing Currentsmoke back down.
"I heard her," Currentsmoke groaned. "She f'isited 'e. She didn't 'ake sense. She said she was going to cah'lete a rituh'al to cuh're 'e."
"To cure you?" Weevilsight muttered. "But we've said all the prayers we can think of. Estherfern even helped Honeybuzz commune with the Celestial of Broken Bones herself for extra advice and blessings. What could Yarrowclaw do?"
"She's in dang'ah!" Currentsmoke snapped. He tried to stand again, but his rising nerves worked in tamdem with his weakness and send him back into the sand.
"Rabbitjoy mentioned something about a ritual last moon," Anchovystrike realized. "That was why Yarrowclaw caught all that prey." Anchovystrike stood, shaking sand out of his fur. "You're right, Currentsmoke. I don't like this. I… I think I misunderstood what Yarrowclaw's been going through. We need to find her."
"I'm with you, Anchovy," Weevilsight promised, stretching. "I'm going to fetch Honeybuzz so he can look after Currentsmoke. Think you can put together a patrol?"
"Easily," Anchovystrike purred, nodding. He rubbed against Currentsmoke and said, "Don't worry, Current. We'll make sure Yarrowclaw is alright." Weevilsight and Anchovystrike crossed by each other, each focused on their goals. Anchovystrike wormed around his Clanmates, focused on Billowhaze, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver.
"Wolfgaze," Anchovystrike called as his friends and brother tried to fight off their giggles. "Can you join me for a bit? I need your help with something."
"What do you have to do that can't wait until after our celebration?" Ravenweaver asked, coughing to clear her laughter.
"Just…" Anchovystrike gulped, glancing at Billowhaze. "Call it a favor for a friend."
"You know I'd be happy to help," Wolfgaze said, getting to her paws. "Enjoy the rest of the meal for me, Billowhaze!"
"With pleasure," Billowhaze hummed, taking a huge bite out of the salted squirrel. Wolfgaze tucked her head and followed Anchovystrike.
"So you know," Anchovystrike chuckled, "we're going to talk about your interest in my brother later." Wolfgaze groaned softly, batting at her own red ears. "Right now though, I'm more interested in my sister. Can you go grab your dad and join me? I think Mosspounce could help a lot."
"Is something wrong with Yarrowclaw?" Wolfgaze asked, romantic embarassment fading.
"Just get your dad," Anchovystrike asked. Wolfgaze nodded and surged into the partying cats, calling for Mosspounce. Anchovystrike, meanwhile, headed for Sandhollow. The cream-tinted tom splashed through the water with Slushtrail and Tallowheart, the three of them squealing like kits. If Currentsmoke hadn't sounded so serious, Anchovystrike would have joined them in their fun.
"Sandhollow," Anchovystrike called. Sandhollow paused n his frolicking, just as Tallowheart's tail sent a wave of salt water into his face. Slushtrail and Tallowheart laughed as Sandhollow rubbed his eyes, trying to get the salt out.
"You two are so ridiculous," Sandhollow chuckled, stumbling out of the water. He shook out his pelt, spraying Anchovystrike. His fur stuck out like thorns. "Hi, Anchovystrike."
"Sandhollow, you've grown close to my sister since you graduated, haven't you?" Anchovystrike asked. "I've seen you spend time with her." Sandhollow's face darkened.
"Something's happened to her, hasn't it?" Sandhollow said.
"I don't know," Anchovystrike admitted as Slushtrail and Tallowheart waded onto the beach, the fun of the moment dead. "I want to make sure nothing does. We need to find her. Can you come with me?"
"Of course," Sandhollow huffed, giving himself a few quick licks to smooth his pelt.
"I should come too," Slushtrail said, sliding up to her fellow mediator.
"I think our little patrol is getting crowded, Slushtrail," Anchovystrike chuckled awkwardly.
"I can handle it, Slush," Sandhollow promised, side-eyeing Slushtrail.
"Is Yarrowclaw in danger or something?" Tallowheart asked.
"Or something, Tallowheart!" Anchovystrike snapped, making the young historian jump. "We just need to go, alright?" Tallowheart stepped back, nodding quickly and avoiding eye contact. Anchovystrike sighed, taking a deep breath. He would have time to apologize later. "Over here, Sandhollow." Sandhollow was at Anchovystrike's side with just a flick of the latter's tail. Slushtrail and Tallowheart watched on as the two toms jogged over to Weevilsight, Wolfgaze, and Mosspounce.
"What exactly is the problem here?" Mosspounce huffed as Anchovystrike and Sandhollow joined the patrol.
"We don't know all the details," Weevilsight sighed, her focused, glowing gaze resting on each Clanmate. "I think we've all noticed Yarrowclaw has had… a lot of busy days, lately. We're worried it's more than that. Currentsmoke thinks she's in danger, and I'm inclined to believe him."
"I'm not trying to undermine your worry, really," Mosspounce said, awkwardness twitching through his whiskers, "but as the oldest cat here, and I really hate that that's true, I should point out the obvious. Yarrowclaw's an adult. She's allowed to leave the party. Are you sure we need to track her down?"
"Currentsmoke knows cats," Anchovystrike huffed. "He's one of the most caring cats I know. He knows when something's wrong. He saw Yarrowclaw wasn't here and panicked. If he thinks we need to find her, we should find her."
"Wanted to make sure you were serious," Mosspounce assured him. "Now the other question… do we have any idea where she might be?"
"Let's check camp first," Wolfgaze suggested, jogging across the sand. "It might be that simple!" The patrol ran after Wolfgaze, sand sticking to their half-wet paws. They left behind the music and laughter of their Clan and ran toward their shipwreck home.
Carnationspeckle lounged at the entrance of camp, absent-minded in her guard duty, dozing off in the warm, almost blistering sun. She snapped to attention as the patrol hurried up to her, however.
"Are you all alright?" Carnationspeckle asked. "You look so serious. Did something happen?"
"We're alright, Carnationspeckle," Sandhollow promised, panting, "but is Yarrowclaw in camp? Did you see her?"
"She's not in camp," Carnationspeckle said, shaking her head, "but I did see her! She headed south a short time ago. Is she alright?"
"Keep your ears perked for us, would you Carnationspeckle?" Anchovystrike asked, paws carrying him to the shoreline. Weevilsight and Wolfgaze scrambled behind him.
"Anchovystrike, wait!" Carnationspeckle yowled, but Anchovystrike's focus was elsewhere.
Anchovystrike breathed deep as the lips of a heavy wave stretched to meet his paws. The salt stung his nose and blinded him to even the smell of Weevilsight beside him. Anchovystrike's chest tightened. Call it instinct, call it brotherly intuition, call it the power of the All-Seeing for all he cared, Anchovystrike's whole body screamed at him to find Yarrowclaw, right now.
"I smell her!" Wolfgaze cried, tail shooting up. She sniffed the sand, whiskers pooling Yarrowclaw's scent together and into a narrative in Wolfgaze's mind. The patrol gathered around her. The heat molded into Anchovystrike's anxiety, making his fur burn. "Carnationspeckle is right, she went south!"
"That's my kit," Mosspounce cheered, sniffing. "I got the scent too. We'll find her together. This way, you three!" Wolfgaze and Mosspounce ran along the sand and grass, hopping from scent bubble to scent bubble. Anchovystike, Weevilsight, and Sandhollow matched their pace.
Yarrowclaw's trail drifted from the cool shoreline into the speckled hills. There was no banter in this patrol, no breaks. Every cat stayed focused on the task ahead. They pushed through the mental haze of sunhigh and kept moving. They would find her. She hadn't gotten far. They just had to keep going. She'd be fine. She'd be fine.
"Anchovystrike." Sandhollow ran alongside Anchovystrike, who suddenly found his chest too tight and the air barely breaching his lungs. "Breathe. Don't pass out on us." Breathe. Yes, breathe. Anchovystrike forced the air into him like a drowning cat.
They heard Yarrowclaw before they saw her.
"I can hear them! I can hear the horses, Robin, thundering down and down and down the path, down the path to save him! Thundering hooves strike the ground, it's lightning, lightning in the sky, or is that my heart? Is my heart in their hooves? Smashed under their hooves? Robinkit, they're coming! They're coming! Strike me! Hit me! His pain to my pain, my pain to his, StarClan's will be done, but not with this, no no, not with Current! You can't take him, Robinkit! Not yet! And you're never taking me! Never!"
Yarrowclaw paced in the center of the horse-path. Her tail thrashed wildly, as though she was in the middle of a battle. She kicked up dust like a kit playing in the sand. She screeched down the path, good eye shifting in and out of focus. Anchovystrike could not hear any horses.
"Yarrowclaw, get off the horse-path," Mosspounce barked, charging toward the border. Anchovystrike, Weevilsight, Wolfgaze, and
"I'll be fine!" Yarrowclaw shrieked. Anchovystrike never heard such laughter in his sister's voice before. "It's for Current! It's for Current! It's my destiny, it's my purpose! They're almost here! Here, here, I hear them, they're deafening, they're here to hear me, they're here for me!" Yarrowclaw's laughter suffocated Anchovystrike. Yarrowclaw coughed, choking on her escasty. Her laughter dissolved into a death wail, the same frenzied expression stuck on her face. "Stop it! Stop the noise! Trample me already! Break it! Break my jaw! Don't take him! Don't take him!" Yarrowclaw stumbled, jaw smacking into the dry path.
"Freeze her!" Weevilsight wailed with a heartbreak Anchovystrike hadn't heard since that fateful day in the nursery. "Wolfgaze!"
At the same time, Yarrowclaw cried, pushing herself up, "I can't keep waiting! I have to take it from him!" Yarrowclaw wrenched her head back.
Suddenly, the world stood still. Yarrowclaw's guttural cries stopped with the blink of an eye. The wind stirred her dusty fur. Her sightless eye stared at Anchovystrike as the patrol finally reached the horse-path. Wolfgaze, too, was frozen, but her eyes, focused and terrified, stayed stuck on Yarrowclaw.
"Don't break my line of sight," Wolfgaze gulped as Anchovystrike and Sandhollow approached Yarrowclaw's supernaturally frozen form. "We've never moved someone when they're frozen, I don't know if we can."
"Just stop her," Weevilsight begged, hiding her face in her father's shoulder. "I hate this vision. Don't let it happen." Anchovystrike knew better than to pry into Weevilsight's darkest visions. He carefully walked behind Yarrowclaw and tucked himself under her head. With his head right up to Yarrowclaw's pelt, Anchovystrike could truly see Wolfgaze's power in action. There was a faint shimmering line surrounding Yarrowclaw's body. Anchovystrike could only see it if he focused, but the lines rippled like water and pressed against Yarrowclaw.
"We'll unfreeze her and get her off the horse-path," Sandhollow said, jaws close to Yarrowclaw's scruff. "Mosspounce, be ready to help us. I don't think she's going to go quietly." Wolfgaze swallowed hard.
As soon as Wolfgaze blinked, Yarrowclaw came to life. She swung her head down hard, but rather than hitting the hoof-hardened horse-path, her muzzle smacked into Anchovystrike's shoulder.
"No!" Yarrowclaw cried as Sandhollow grabbed her scruff. "No no no! He'll die! I'm the only one, I'm the only one that can save him, I'm the only one! I won't be hurt! I can't be hurt! No!" Sandhollow and Anchovystrike dragged Yarrowclaw off the horse-path. Yarrowclaw swung her claws at Anchovystrike's muzzle. She caught her brother's lip, sending a stream of blood trickling into Anchovystrike's mouth. Anchovystrike hissed and shoved Yarrowclaw onto the grass lining the horse-path. Mosspounce left his terrified daughter's side and stood on Yarrowclaw's shoulders. Anchovystrike stood on her flank.
"Yarrowclaw, can you hear me?" Sandhollow asked softly, crouching at the trapped molly's level. "Shh, you're safe, I promise."
"No, I have to go," Yarrowclaw cried, face as torn as the day she saw Robinkit and Harvest's bodies cooling in the nursery. "There's too much to do, I can't stay here, I have to go."
"There's nothing you need to do except breathe," Sandhollow assured her. "Weevilsight is going to find some herbs to calm your mind. It seems like there's a lot going on in there, am I right?"
"Currentsmoke's going to die unless I transfer his wounds to me," Yarrowclaw wailed. Her pinned claws dug up tufts of grass.
"Yarrowclaw, that kind of ritual doesn't exist," Mosspounce snapped. Yarrowclaw's chest heaved, ragged breaths morphing into sobs. "You have to snap out of it."
"Mosspounce, with all due respect," Sandhollow hissed quietly, suddenly at the caretaker's ear, "stop talking. Let the tom with mediator training use his training, alright?"
"How do we calm her down?" Mosspounce asked. Yarrowclaw kicked at Anchovystrike, but Anchovystrike laid on her hind legs. All Yarrowclaw could do was flex her claws helplessly.
"There's a patch of tall lettuce that loves to sprout near here," Weevilsight stammered. "That should help. I, I'll be right back!" Weevilsight scurried over the hills and through the trees, unable to stop her pelt from bristling.
Wolfgaze silently took over for Anchovystrike as Sandhollow whispered to Yarrowclaw, rubbing on the edges of her delusions. Anchovystrike laid beside Yarrowclaw rather than on top of her. Yet as he rested his head, something glimmered in the top of his vision.
Anchovystrike hadn't seen this strange sight since that moment in Downstar's den, coping with the sudden loss of his mother and brother. Soft streams of light flowed around Yarrowclaw and her captors like the glistening pawsteps of StarClan. Even against the shine of the midday sun, the light couldn't blind Anchovystrike. It pulled the weight out of his chest. Yarrowclaw sobbed deep, her whole body tensing. Then, she relaxed, deflating into her own unknowable misery.
"If that's you, Robinkit," Anchovystrike whispered, just quiet enough for him to hear, "thank you. And I'm sorry."
The ethereal light slithered around Yarrowclaw and dove sharply. It weaved into the back of the brown molly's head like a snake sliding into its hole. As it entered Yarrowclaw's body, the warrior sheathed her claws. Blades of grass stuck up between her toes. Sandhollow groomed Yarrowclaw's cheeks as Yarrowclaw sobbed and muttered a string of nonsense.
Anchovystrike wouldn't claim to understand what was wrong, or what needed to be done. But what he could do was groom his sister's fur and murmur gentle assurances.
(Anchovystrike: 19, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)
(Weevilsight: 19, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
(Currentsmoke: 19, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)
(Ravenweaver: 19, female, artisan, nervous, den builder, very clever)
(Wolfgaze: 19, female, codekeeper, thoughful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)
(Billowhaze: 19, male, historian, loyal, good kit-sitter)
[Image ID: Anchovystrike says to Sandhollow and Spikecrash "I’ve dealt with a lot for a cat my age. This is nothing in comparison. Yarrowclaw’s still the cocky, rough-as-salt molly I know. She’s still the cat I have fun with. She’s just got a few extra traits now." Yarrowclaw sits in the back. Under her, it reads + PERMANENT CONDITION: DAY-NIGHT CYCLING.]
---
"So Yarrowclaw's crazy now?" Cobaltchaser gulped, settling deeper into her nest.
"Cobaltchaser!" Lightningrunner whined, sneering. "You can't call your Clanmates crazy!"
"That's what she sounds like," Cobaltchaser pointed out. "I'm not insulting her. Some cats are crazy. They can't control it."
"Maybe we don't call anyone crazy," Anchovystrike sighed, cheek on the edge of his nest.
By the time Anchovystrike and his patrol came back to camp with Yarrowclaw, nearly half the Clan had left the celebration at the beach, wondering just what they were up to. Weevilsight's tall lettuce helped soothe Yarrowclaw, so she didn't enter camp yowling and crying, but everyone could tell she was in a fragile state. Paleseed and Spikecrash kept the Clan back until Sandhollow and Weevilsight settled Yarrowclaw in the medicine den. Anchovystrike had Mosspounce and Lemmy to thank afterward; the whole Clan was about to pry Anchovystrike for an explanation, but the moment Mosspounce spoke with his mate, Lemmy pushed everyone away, reminding them the value of a cat's privacy. That didn't mean cats like Cobaltchaser and Lightningrunner didn't try to ask later, as the entire camp relaxed after the party and settled down within the warm summer night.
"He's her brother, mouse-brain," Lightningrunner huffed. "He doesn't have to tell us the whole story. Yarrowclaw's going through a hard enough time without us getting in her business."
"At least one of you gets it," Anchovystrike said, getting up. "I think storytime is over, anyway." Anchovystrike crept through the maze of nests that made up the warrior's den. Most cats were already in their nests, getting ready to sleep. Anchovystrike tried not to look at Yarrowclaw's empty nest. He failed.
Outside the den, only a few cats remained out. Downstar and Oilstripe spoke with Spikecrash by the Shiprock while Billowhaze sat with Currentsmoke and Estherfern outside the medicine den. Wolfgaze and Mosspounce shared tongues outside the warrior's den and perked up when Anchovystrike stepped out.
"How are you feeling?" Wolfgaze asked softly.
"Like my sister just tried to kill herself," Anchovystrike chuckled wetly. Mosspounce set his head against Anchovystrike's shoulder, pouring his sympathy into him. "The nap helped, at least. I'll have to thank Lemmy for giving me some room to breathe."
"If it helps," Wolfgaze sighed, licking Anchovystrike's ear, "I don't think she realized she could have died."
"Is Billowhaze mad I didn't bring him with us?" Anchovystrike asked.
"It's bad enough you had to see that," Mosspounce huffed. "If that was Trumpetspore on the horse-path, I wouldn't have been able to do anything. Billowhaze should be grateful he wasn't there."
"He understood after I talked to him," Wolfgaze said. "Just be with your brothers, Anchovystrike. I can move my nest closer to you tonight, if you want."
"That would help," Anchovystrike sighed, touching noses with Wolfgaze. "I can't thank you enough for your help."
"Yarrowclaw's our friend too," Mosspounce purred, setting his tail on Anchovystrike's back. "We would have helped regardless. Good luck tonight." With that, Mosspounce and Wolfgaze entered the warrior's den, leaving Anchovystrike to face his family head-on.
Currentsmoke spotted Anchovystrike first. He raised his head from his curled position and batted Billowhaze's leg.
"I don't like that I had to hear about Yarrowclaw from someone else, Anchovystrike," Billowhaze huffed. Anchovystrike approached with his head low.
"He sa'ed her," Currentsmoke sighed as Estherfern put her nose in his ear. "Sat's enough."
"All this stress brought Currentsmoke's fever back," Estherfern muttered, shaking her head.
"Oh, so now you're interested in medicine?" Anchovystrike hummed, daring to raise his head.
"I've put my pride aside," Estherfern scoffed. "That's not what you should be focusing on tonight." Billowhaze sighed and cleared space for Anchovystrike to sit between him and Currentsmoke.
"Sandhollow told us that since Yarrowclaw isn't fully of sound mind," Billowhaze sighed, "he's going to keep us informed on Yarrowclaw and what she needs going forward." Anchovystrike nodded softly. He glanced into the medicine den. He could just hear Sandhollow inside, speaking softly with Yarrowclaw. When Sandhollow's blue eyes turned toward him, Anchovystrike quickly looked away. Moments later, Sandhollow stepped outside.
"Spikecrash?" he called softly. Spikecrash turned from her conversation with Downstar and Oilstripe. She bade the leader and deputy farewell and joined her former apprentice beside the three brothers.
"Estherfern," Spikecrash cooed, "we can watch over Currentsmoke if you'd like to nest for the night."
"Here's to a quiet night," Estherfern hummed, nodding to the mediators. She nodded to each of the three toms beside her before she slipped around Sandhollow and into the medicine den. Sandhollow and Spikecrash sat with their backs to the medicine den, as though shielding Anchovystrike and his brothers from what laid within.
"First things first," Sandhollow explained, "Yarrowclaw's safe and resting. She probably won't sleep tonight with her mania, but she'll at least stay in the medicine den. Even if she doesn't plan on staying, Spikecrash has asked for a caretaker to watch her through the night." Spikecrash nodded along with her apprentice's assessment.
"Mania, what is that?" Anchovystrike asked.
"You could consider it the opposite of depression," Spikecrash sighed. "Rather than feeling low, your emotions are elevated. Everything is more vibrant, more stimulating, your joy and rage and panic are stronger than ever before. We believe these periods of activity Yarrowclaw's had over the last few moons have been manic episodes. When a cat goes through these periods of mania, their emotions crash afterward into depression. We call it day-night cycling. Mania is like the day, bright and burning, while the depression afterward is like the night, gloomy and dark."
"Yarrowclaw is depressed too?" Billowhaze moaned.
"It's not the same for everyone," Sandhollow assured him, shifting a paw closer. "From what we've been able to gather about Yarrowclaw's behavior, she may focus more on the 'day' side of this cycling than the 'night' side."
"What should we know?" Anchovystrike asked. "To keep her safe, I mean."
"For now?" Sandhollow sighed. "Just show her support. We can talk through the specifics another time. This is a lot to process. It's been a long day. You should all rest."
"Honestly, Sandhollow?" Anchovystrike chuckled, focusing on the glow of the medicine den. "I’ve dealt with a lot for a cat my age. This is nothing in comparison. Yarrowclaw’s still the cocky, rough-as-salt molly I know. She’s still the cat I have fun with. She’s just got a few extra traits now. Right?"
"Exactly," Spikecrash purred.
"We still want to see her though," Billowhaze said. "You said she's awake."
"Currentsmoke's sleeping in the medicine den, he'll get to see her," Billowhaze pointed out, his paw almost smacking Currentsmoke. "Just let us in for a little bit."
"It's best not to fight them on this, Sandhollow," Spikecrash cautioned, rubbing her tail along Sandhollow's back. "You three can see her, but be quiet and don't take long. The clerics are trying to sleep, and Wolverineheart has an ear infection they're monitoring." Billowhaze helped Currentsmoke to his paws. Anchovystrike touched noses with the mediators, but his mind was already in the medicine den. He led his brothers into the shadows of the ancient wood.
Potterypool sat guard beside Yarrowclaw as Wolverineheart and the clerics settled down to nest. Although Yarrowclaw's eyes drooped, she stayed alert, scratching at the moss in her nest. Someone groomed the dust and snarls out of her pelt and lined her nest with lavender. Billowhaze escorted Currentsmoke into his nest beside Yarrowclaw. Currentsmoke's paw hooked the edge of Yarrowclaw's nest as he stared at his sister. Anchovystrike loafed in front of Yarrowclaw, with Billowhaze sitting beside him.
"Potterypool won't let me leave," Yarrowclaw muttered, glaring at her guard.
"Do you want me to disobey Sandhollow?" Potterypool sighed, giving her charge nary a side-eye. "I'm not going on trial for letting something happen to you."
"I was going to cure Currentsmoke… I think," Yarrowclaw sighed. She rubbed her face, groaning, "I don't really remember all of it. There were horses… or maybe that was my heart. I feel like I'm the middle of a battlefield."
"You were trying to break your jaw," Anchovystrike muttered. Some of the day's panic crawled back up his throat. "You were talking to Robinkit."
"I didn't actually see him," Yarrowclaw mumbled, putting her head on the nest's edge. "I was so sure he was there, though. Ugh, I just want to hunt! I feel like I'm on fire. I don't like talking this much, I'm not saying anything. But I can't move, so I have to, I have to keep talking so I don't burn away, everything's going too fast. I feel like I'm dying. I don't think I can die."
"You can die, Yarrowclaw," Billowhaze huffed. "You don't have powers, you're not a cleric, you can't perform any rituals. You're just you."
"I want it to stop," Yarrowclaw gulped. "I want to rest, but I'm on fire. I want to bite my pelt off, get it out, but Potterypool stops me."
"And she should, you know," Anchovystrike said. He scooted closer to Yarrowclaw.
"I do," Yarrowclaw whined. "I do know, somewhere. I'm dying. I want it to stop. I want to fix something, anything. Sandhollow wants me to sleep, and I want to sleep so badly, but I can't. Everyone's dying, and I can't stop it." Yarrowclaw's unsheathed claws hooked around her muzzle. Billowhaze moved them off. Currentsmoke stretched until his paw rested on top of Yarrowclaw's.
"I'll 'e here for yuh," Currentsmoke said, trying to purr. "I'll fight with yuh."
"We all will," Anchovystrike promised. He set his nose on Yarrowclaw's head and prayed to Robinkit, to Harvest, to any StarClan soul who wandered around him, that his sister realized that.
(Cobaltchaser: 14, female, codekeeper, righteous, good cook, prey cleaner)
Considering her great teaching skills, Moontide decides to join Thundergale and Shrewpaw as a teacher, further validating Thundergale's ambitious experiment.
[Image ID: Shrewpaw and Thundergale proudly watch Moontide.]
The Clan collectively celebrates Weedfoot as everyone finds a way to move on. Potterypool, Wolfgaze, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw join their littermates in the warrior’s den.
[Image ID: Potterypool, Wolfgaze, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw are adults and graduates. Under Potterypool, it says LEVEL UP! POTTERYPAW → POTTERYPOOL, INSECURE → SNEAKY, LOVES TO SING → GREAT SINGER. Under Wolfgaze, it says LEVEL UP! WOLFPAW → WOLFGAZE, CURIOUS ABOUT STARCLAN → CONNECTION WITH STARCLAN, CONFIDENT WITH WORDS → GOOD SPEAKER. Under Currentsmoke, it says LEVEL UP! CURRENTPAW → CURRENTSMOKE, CONSTANTLY CLIMBING → GOOD CLIMBER, HAS LOTS OF IDEAS → SKILLED TOOLSMITH. Under Yarrowclaw, it says LEVEL UP! YARROWPAW → YARROWCLAW, THOUGHTFUL → COLD, STARES AT FIRE → TALENTED FIRE-STARTER.]
"I'm still awake, I promise," Wolfgaze yelped, blinking wildly and shaking the exhaustion from her thick fur. Thank StarClan she didn't fall over. She'd claimed a spot on the Resting Place immediately after her ceremony, providing a great vantage over the camp. Yet the lulling waves behind her and the empty, clouded sky above were the perfect recipe for a long nap. Weevilpaw stood with her front paws on the log, her entire body standing straight with excitement.
"Downstar said I could fetch you," Weevilpaw chirped. "You made it! Your codekeeper's vigil! How did it feel?"
"Long," Wolfgaze yawned. She stumbled off the Resting Place, licking her lips. "Where are the others?" Potterypool, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw had been sitting outside the camp the last time Wolfgaze looked. Now the entrance was barren, all thorns, brambles, and stones.
"They already fell back into camp," Weevilpaw chuckled. "Currentsmoke was so tired, I thought he would fall on his face!"
"I'm ready to see my graduation gift," Wolfgaze sighed as Weevilpaw rubbed against her. The tortoiseshell cleric helped her sister into camp, laughing as Wolfgaze's eyes drifted shut. With the sun peeking over the sea, Wolfgaze expected the Clan to set out for the day's patrols, but to her surprise, she found most of RippleClan gathered in the center of camp. Downstar sat on the Shiprock, gazing down at the activities below her. Potterypool, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw stood at the edge of the crowd, trying to see what caught their kin's attention.
"What's going on?" Wolfgaze asked, morning clarity clearing her thoughts. She and Weevilpaw joined the newly graduated cats, who were all largely ignored by the rest of the Clan.
"The artisans are doing something," Yarrowclaw explained.
"I think it has something to do with that big chunk of wood they brought in last night," Currentsmoke pointed out. "Remember? Elmsprout and the artisans pulled the sled out and came back to camp with a huge piece!"
"It was a slow night, Currentsmoke," Potterypool hummed, gently nudging her friend. "I think she remembers." Wolfgaze did not, in fact, remember, but she pretended she did.
Wolfgaze braced herself and squeezed between Splashtuft and Wildclaw. She weaved around her Clanmates until she broke into the center of the circle. Mitespark, Elmsprout, Rabbitjoy, and Rattlepelt stood around a wooden sculpture. Ravenpaw sat near them, listening carefully as Rattlepelt explained what they were doing. They picked at the wood with their claws, their teeth, and a few specialized tools; sharp stone picks that could be wrapped around the paw with leather straps, perfect for detailed work on pottery and woodwork. Elmsprout was the first to notice Wolfgaze.
"Wolfgaze!" she called, gently stepping back from the sculpture. "You finished your vigil! Congratulations! Your sisters made your nest in the warrior's den. I'm certain you'll like their gift."
"What are you doing, though?" Wolfgaze asked.
"Oh, that's right, no one told you," Elmsprout gasped softly. "Mitespark, let her see!" Mitespark carefully pulled her carving pick from the wood's surface and moved to the side. It was a bust, a cat's face from the tip of their ears to their collarbone. They were a smooth-faced cat with round features, shaped almost like a triangle sitting on its tip.
"We debated whether to carve in her stripes or paint them," Rabbitjoy explained, "but I think we're going to paint them."
"Is this someone I'm supposed to recognize?" Wolfgaze asked.
"We carved it from memory," Mitespark admitted, "but imagine gray fur and deep blue eyes…"
"James and Scaleripple are making paint for her," Rattlepelt explained. "We told James he could rest and enjoy the finished product, but I guess he wanted to lend a paw for once."
"But why carve Weedfoot?" Wolfgaze asked, glancing at the crowd. "Why is everyone so excited?"
"A Clan's leader and deputy carry all of us on their backs," Rabbitjoy said, brushing against the newly named codekeeper. "They affect all of us, and we all grieve them when they pass. It's a part of our history fading away. The whole camp was up last night sharing memories of Weedfoot, and Paleseed came up with this idea. We're thinking of doing the same for future leaders and deputies after they pass."
"We'll find a place to store them where the paint won't decay," Rattlepelt promised.
"It will be lovely," Wolfgaze purred. A yawn slipped through her words, despite her efforts to hold it back.
"It will still be here when you wake up," Mitespark laughed. "Go to sleep!" Wolfgaze bowed her head, her exhaustion flooding back with Mitespark's simple order. She moved back through the crowd, who passed along a few more congratulations.
"Wolfgaze!" Billowhaze stepped out of the swarm just as Wolfgaze breached the horde. His whiskers twitched in casual mirth. "Anchovy and I are planning abig battle-training session with Estherfern's litter this evening. You should join us! With all the Spirits of Shadow out there, those five could practice against that stare of yours."
"I'm not sure," Wolfgaze gulped, her ears suddenly growing hot under Billowhaze's charming stare. "It might be too dangerous to leave camp just for a training session. With what happened to Silverpaw…" Silverpaw should have been sitting vigil with Wolfgaze that night. Wolfgaze shouldn't have had to spend those long moments wondering what happened to her sister, what Spirit of Shadow pulled her under, never to be seen again.
"That's why training will be good for them," Billowhaze insisted. "We can even bring Weevilpaw along if that makes you feel better. The Spirits of Shadow wouldn't match claws with our three star-blessed warriors, would they?" Billowhaze winked and turned back to Weedfoot's bust, trying to gaze upon the former deputy's face. Even through the chaos of recent moons and the overpowering desire to sleep, Wolfgaze still felt her heart flutter at Billowhaze's stare.
It seemed her life as a codekeeper was off to a good start.
(Weevilpaw: 13, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)
(Wolfgaze: 13, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, good speaker)
(Billowhaze: 13, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)
Boughpaw found a forget-me-not flower growing in the frost and decided to keep it.
[Image ID: Boughpaw now wears a forget-me-not flower. Under her, it reads + ACCESSORY: FORGET-ME-NOTS.]
(Boughpaw: 10, female, historian apprentice, righteous, constantly climbing)
While collecting samples of ichor for a banishing ritual with Estherfern, Anchovystrike, and Mosspounce, Foampaw swears she hears Shrewkit crying in the distance. When she and Mosspounce go to investigate, only Mosspounce returns alive with horrified tales of a manykit and a new spirit composed of frost-covered leaves.
Slushtrail knew, as soon as Downstar ordered everyone to stay in camp unless absolutely necessary, Longest Night would truly be a long, long night.
Three torches sat before the main bonfire, separate from the other memorials. A withered dandelion sat in front of the tallest. A silver stone necklace hung from the second. Salt crusted the base of the third, dipped in sea foam. It was a lot like the Longest Night Slushtrail remembered from her kithood. The artisans danced and sang, the historians told stories, the caretakers prepared a late night meal. The fire still roared against the never-ending night, a refusal to bow to the cold and decay. Slushtrail could tell, however, that it hurt some of her Clanmates to keep up the fight. Estherfern ranted to her remaining kits, relaying all she had learned in those last few moons about the Spirits of Shadow and their dangers. Mosspounce laughed a bit too loud at one of Lemmy's comments. Lavendertwist sang just loud enough to hurt Slushtrail's ears. Rattlepelt fought to keep Ravenpaw's attention, trying to demonstrate a special dance. RippleClan was clawing at the edge of a cliff, trying to pull themselves back up, unable to think anything but "it will be okay" when their hearts spoke the opposite.
Honeybuzz brushed his tail against Estherfern's shoulder mid-rant. She paused, and Slushtrail could see Estherfern's breath catch and fog around her. She touched her nose to each of her kits and followed Honeybuzz to the side, where Troutpool and Weevilpaw waited. Slushtrail couldn't hear them, but they sat close and carried torches in their eyes. Best to leave them be for now.
The rest of Slushtrail's family sat in front of the nursery. Tallowheart worked with Oilstripe on an old story; a great war between WheatClan and SlugClan and a friendship that healed their wounds. Carnationspeckle listened closely with Rattlepelt and Wildclaw while Shrewkit hid under Rattlepelt's fox pelt, shivering. With one more look over the rest of the Clan, Slushtrail joined her mothers and siblings.
"How do you like Longest Night, Shrewkit?" Slushtrail asked.
"I don't like the cold," he huffed, pulling his face under the fox pelt. "My mom's probably freezing her flank off tonight."
"I'm sure wherever your birth mother is," Carnationspeckle sighed, lifting the kit's cover away, "she's just happy you're growing up somewhere safe and warm. Can I warm you up?" Shrewkit nodded and crawled closer to his grandmother. Carnationspeckle licked Shrewkit's fur the wrong way, warming his blood.
"So can leaders really give cats whole new names?" Shrewkit asked, turning to Tallowheart and Oilstripe. "Like the warrior in your story?"
"I'm a living example of that!" Wildclaw chirped, gently bunting her son. "Have we told you I used to called Graythroat? Downstar gave me a new name because of how fiercely I defend RippleClan."
"More like because you have a death wish," Oilstripe chuckled. Tallowheart hid a snicker.
"I've outgrown it!" Wildclaw insisted with a laugh.
"Mostly," Rattlepelt hummed, rolling her eyes. Wildclaw batted her mate's muzzle, and Shrewkit laughed.
"Well I never want to lose my name," Shrewkit declared. "My mom named me Shrew, and that's who I'll be, forever. The kit part is extra." When he sat taller, he nearly head-butted Carnationspeckle's jaw into her skull.
(Tallowheart: 14, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)
Troutpool hopes Trumpetspore notices her.
[Image ID: Troutpool stares at Trumpetspore.]
---
Troutpool stared at Trumpetspore from the medicine den as Trumpetspore and Brightpaw showed Shrewkit how to perform a hunter's crouch. There wasn't a lot of room to practice, since almost everyone was in camp, safe under the divine protection Troutpool and her peers summoned. It was the same protective ritual they performed during Harvest Moon. The clerics could only pray it would guard the Clan long enough for them to strike back against the Spirits of Shadow. Yet despite her chronic fear of them, Trumpetspore proved more confident in Troutpool's rituals than the cream cleric was.
"Keep your flank a little lower," Trumpetspore said, nudging Shrewkit's high flank down. "You're doing well." Troutpool didn't care if others laughed at Trumpetspore's nervousness or groaned at her panic. There was a keen-eyed warrior under that blanket of anxiety; a warrior Troutpool wanted to know more. Troutpool's eyes softened as she watched the black warrior move with such ease between Shrewkit and Brightpaw, eager to train despite the danger.
"You're staring." Troutpool startled a bit. Scaleripple stood outside the den, expressionless. He held a paw to his chest. A large thorn jutted out from his pads.
"I was just marveling at how well Shrewkit's adapted to Clan life," Troutpool stammered with a lick of her chest. "Here, that thorn looks awful, I'll help you get it out." That was obviously why Scaleripple was there, why did Troutpool have to say it like that?
Troutpool led Scaleripple into the shadow of the den. She grabbed a few cobwebs from the shelves (no need to waste a bandage on a simple thorn). She held Scaleripple's paw out and gripped the thorn between her teeth.
"You were staring at Trumpetspore," Scaleripple said right as Troutpool ripped the thorn out of his paw. Scaleripple hissed and licked the fresh flowing blood. Troutpool moved his paw back down and placed cobwebs on the small wound.
"Stay here for a while, and keep your paw off the sand," Troutpool said. "I'll take the cobwebs off soon. A wound that size will close quickly." Troutpool licked a strand of cobweb off her paws. Scaleripple stared at her, barely blinking. Did he want to talk about Trumpetspore? Well, if he did, he could just ask. Troutpool had no reason to be embarrassed by it. "You know Trumpetspore well. If I were to ask her on a date—"
"No," Scaleripple said so suddenly that Troutpool once again startled. They both stared at each other, one confused, the other certain in an unknowable, detached way. No? What did Scaleripple mean by 'no'? He wasn't Trumpetspore's mentor. Troutpool didn't need his permission! She must not have been able to hide her thoughts as well as Scaleripple did, for the gold and white warrior continued. "You told Trumpetspore her littermate was an omen. Why would she be your mate?"
"Scaleripple," Troutpool huffed, finding what little confidence she possessed and hardening her voice. "I only reported StarClan's sign. I didn't want to make Tempestshade's life hard. I revealed it at their trial because I didn't want them to be found guilty of murder."
"Instead you made everyone avoid them," Scaleripple said. He glanced at his bandaged paw with a soft huff. He tore off the red-stained cobweb and spat the wad onto the middle of the floor. "So, no. You don't get to ask Trumpetspore on a date. You don't deserve that." Scaleripple licked his paw once more and walked out of the den. It didn't seem to matter that he left Troutpool spinning, a dormant pressure rising in her chest. No, Scaleripple sauntered back into the packed clearing like nothing had happened.
RippleClan prepares a ritual to fight back against the Spirit hordes.
[Image ID: Troutpool, Honeybuzz, and Weevilpaw stand in a circle around Estherfern. Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, Oilstripe, and Scaleripple watch from the sides.]
---
In Estherfern's faith, there was her God, who did His best to watch over her home, but there were also the Six Predators. The Wolf, The Fox, The Owl, The Hawk, The Rat, The Cougar. These vengeful, vindictive deities loved to toy with catkind, so Estherfern's home developed a dozen ways to combat their influence. Somewhere in the back of her heart, Estherfern wondered if they were the ones who tormented the souls of the Dark Forest, who gave birth to the Spirits of Shadow. Maybe they were the ones to kill Foampaw. Maybe they were laughing somewhere, saying "Look at Esther. Stepping above her station, making friends with the damned. Shouldn't she have known better? It's so fun to watch her destroy her family."
That night, Estherfern would spit in the faces of the Six Predators, of the Spirits of Shadow, of everything supernatural that roamed her new home, because no one got away with hurting her kits. Not even her.
"Estherfern, we don't have to tell anyone," Honeybuzz whispered as the procession trailed toward the beach. Honeybuzz and Estherfern kept to the back of the group, carrying baskets of supplies. Troutpool walked inside a circle composed of Weevilpaw, Anchovystrike, and Wolfgaze. Oilstripe and Scaleripple kept a sharp eye for strange shadows, ready to fight and protect the untrained clerics.
"What sort of justice would that be?" Estherfern huffed.
"The sort that keeps the peace," Honeybuzz said.
"Peace built on lies is no peace at all," Estherfern sighed. "When this is done… we're telling the Clan. May your ancestors and my God forgive me." Estherfern stared at the clouded sky. If StarClan was as strong as her Clanmates claimed, their presence would not be dulled by simple clouds hiding Silverpelt from view.
As the patrol approached the beach, it began to snow. Flakes danced on Estherfern's nose. Wolfgaze rubbed her fluffy pelt against her sister's thin fur as Weevilpaw shivered. Honeybuzz ran into the thicker circle of cats, quietly begging for extra warmth. Estherfern soaked in the cold. The cold meant she was alive. She was free. It was this freedom she sought to protect ever since she escaped the cat-minded human. Yet in seeing her kits as imprisoned in their bodies, had she not denied them freedom? Whenever she spoke with Wolverinepaw, the long-furred duplicate of Estherfern still stared a bit too hard. Thunderpaw still didn't ask Estherfern to repeat herself if she didn't catch what she said. Brightpaw squirmed in Estherfern's company, and Boughpaw stayed silent, forgotten in her normalcy. The truth would be the only thing that could fix their bonds, even if it destroyed them in the process.
"This is the place," Troutpool finally said. The patrol stood where the river met the ocean, dissolving into branches. Sand melted into mud and clay. A salt pool sat in the sand, the artisan's precious system to separate out the water and harvest the pure white crystals. The sea was nothing more than churning shadow. Estherfern and Honeybuzz set their baskets down.
"StarClan is watching," Oilstripe whispered, head spinning. "There are so many cats. I see Mousesong, and Weedfoot, Silverpaw… Estherfern, Foampaw is here." Estherfern steadied herself. She swallowed the rock in her throat.
"This is for you, Silverpaw!" Wolfgaze called into the dark, still pressed against Weevilpaw.
"They aren't saying anything," Oilstripe said. "I think they're just bearing witness."
"Foampaw, forgive me," Estherfern whispered.
"Oilstripe, Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, Scaleripple," Honeybuzz said, taking dry mushrooms out of his basket, "you'll patrol around us while we work. Anchovystrike, how do we look?"
"There's ichor everywhere," Anchovystrike groaned, sneering at the sand. "The spirits roam the entire territory."
"It shouldn't be hard to draw them in," Weevilpaw huffed, standing taller. "I'll call out if I predict any of them attacking."
"This will take some time, so stay alert," Honeybuzz said. "Weevilpaw, help me build this side of the circle. Troutpool, Estherfern, take the other half." Estherfern gently grabbed a mouthful of mushrooms, which grew damp in the snow, and started on her side of the circle.
The circle would be far bigger than the one in Estherfern's cursed den. Yes, it was similar to that original circle, composed of the same mushrooms that connected the living world to the Dark Forest. Yet here, the design was not based on those damned traditions, but Estherfern's faith. While the mushrooms formed the curves of the circle, rather than filling the interior with an herbal sludge, Estherfern's basket held a purer replacement; the spirit-rebelling charms from Harvest Moon. In Estherfern's home, the charms would have had the gentle face of God, with tufts of fur representing each of the Six Predators replacing the mushrooms.
"Is this safe?" Scaleripple asked. He sat in the branches of a chokecherry, carefully watching the shore.
"We're summoning Spirits of Shadow and sending them back to the Dark Forest," Weevilpaw scoffed as she set down a few more charms. "There's a lot of risk involved here. But it's what we have to do if we have any hope to get rid of them all."
"I don't mean the spirits," Scaleripple said softly. "These gods that Estherfern fears… are they real?"
"Of course they are," Estherfern snapped, almost knocking a mushroom out of its place. "They may not dwell over your lands, but they dwell over mine."
"What if we summon both the spirits…" Scaleripple said, "and your Predators?" Estherfern's paw clenched over a charm. Was the white-speckled warrior right? Estherfern knew so many tales of the Six Predators and the way they destroyed lives. They did not need to feed, they did not have that excuse for their mayhem. It was fun for them. They spread their domains with no care for each other or any living creature. Was Estherfern repeating her earlier mistakes? Was she, in her effort to fix one problem, inviting something far worse?
"Esther," Honeybuzz said. He met Estherfern's eyes from the other side of the circle. He set the last mushroom in its place. "It's our best option. There are too many." Estherfern nodded. She settled the last of her charms in the circle and turned to Troutpool. The head cleric nodded in return.
"Everyone, stay back, and stay quiet," Troutpool called as Estherfern stepped into the circle. "Honeybuzz, Weevilpaw, are you ready?"
"I'm not a very good singer," Weevilpaw chuckled. She rubbed snow out of her eyes and settled at the edge of the circle.
"You don't have to be," Estherfern said. "Just say the names clearly."
"I've never heard names like these," Troutpool muttered, tucking her tail over her paws.
"You wouldn't have," Estherfern said with a flick of an ear.
Weevilpaw, Honeybuzz, and Troutpool sat equal distance from one another, poised outside the circle. Scaleripple jumped out of the tree and joined Oilstripe. Wolfgaze and Anchovystrike lingered near Weevilpaw. Snow dusted the mushrooms and charms.
"The ichor isn't happy, I can already tell," Anchovystrike muttered. Wolfgaze put her tail to his muzzle.
"Predators of the Great Glowing Lands," Estherfern yowled into the snowy night. "We bind you to this place with your true names!" The four clerics closed their eyes. The song came naturally to Estherfern, embedded into her very being. It wasn't hard to teach it to her compatriots.
Luponthoth
Vulpo Thun
Strigart
But-oro
Rapendazera
Punai'kema
The gentle voices of the clerics rose through the snow in a soft, yet tense melody, like bird song. Estherfern dropped out of the song and opened her eyes. Oilstripe and Anchovystrike's hackles rose, their heads bouncing to sights only they could see.
As Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw carried on the song, Estherfern yowled, "We know of your appetites! We know of your boredom! This land is filled with wicked spirits! We have formed their path to safety, and they'll think they can escape. Have fun!"
The cleric's song cut off as a violent gush of wind battered their voices, flinging snow into their eyes. Wolfgaze yowled, bracing herself against Anchovystrike. The leaves that decorated Oilstripe's pelt flew off. Estherfern's heart raced as the snow bit her nose. Yet a few moments later, the wind receded. Estherfern breathed deep. Scaleripple shook out his pelt while Honeybuzz shivered. The humming ocean made Estherfern's ears ring.
"Stay where you are," Estherfern warned her companions. Her fur spiked when a sudden realization washed over her. "Anchovystrike, close your eyes."
"Why?" Anchovystrike asked.
"Foxdung!" Weevilpaw suddenly cried, jumping with her back arched. "They're… from the forest! Watch out!"
"Anchovystrike," Estherfern yowled as something tumbled through the trees, "you see the unseen influence of the supernatural. If you see the Predators as they really are, you will go mad! Now close your eyes!" Anchovystrike obeyed just in time.
Terrified howls echoed through the forest. Black sludge dripped from the grass onto the sand. It tumbled faster and faster like a newly formed river, racing toward the circle. Oilstripe and Scaleripple scrambled back as the ichor slammed into the circle. It launched at Estherfern with a steaming, bubbling sound. Estherfern held her ground. The ichor plunged into the sand around her like a fox leaping into snow. It stained the sand black and burrowed deep, deep, deep.
Then the monsters came. They howled and shrieked and cauterwauled, running through the trees as fast as they could. There were darkhounds, thundering along with massive paws and bloody jaws, yipping like pups. There was forsaken prey, decayed and rotten yet moving and squealing just as they did in their final moments. Leatherwaste flopped and flew about, and something new, something without a proper name, some storm-spun bundle of dull brown leaves and glistening frost, slithered toward the circle.
"Stay down!" Weevilpaw yowled, belly dropping to the sand. All except Estherfern mimicked the cleric apprentice. The Spirits of Shadow raced alongside the trail of ichor and into the circle. They dug and clawed at the sand, following their lifeblood back into the depths. But they were the lucky ones.
Estherfern could not see them, but she could see their power unfold. Unseen talons snatched spirits by their backs and flung them into the sky. Eager, invisible jaws snapped and bit into the sticky flesh of the spirits. Something dragged unlucky spirits into the shadows, screaming. They sank into the earth before they reached the circle. They dissolved into steaming piles of ichor with torturous wails.
The world went white. The loudest, strongest clap of thunder Estherfern had ever heard reverberated through her skeleton and stayed singing in her ears. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear. Her skin buzzed. In a moment of clarity tucked within the chaos, Estherfern wondered if this is what her kits felt. A path without sight, without sound, heart pushing out of your chest, is a blessing compared to the fate that awaits the rot.
It took some time for Estherfern's vision to clear. She and her Clanmates were still standing, unharmed. The ichor and spirits were gone. There was no sign they had been there at all, save for a few mushrooms missing from the circle. The other cats groaned, rubbing their ears and eyes. They were alive. The spirits had left RippleClan.
Something drew Estherfern's gaze up. Clear shapes formed within the clouds, backed by a pale glow. Each cloud looked perfectly like its subject; a wolf, a fox, an owl, a hawk, a rat, and a cougar. Where their eyes would have been were balls of lightning, sparking and dancing, glaring down at the Clans in hunger.
The creatures of the glowing sky do not rule this land, but visitors cannot be denied. The stars shall extend their power, and the beasts shall fill their bellies. So it has been for you, so it shall be for all.
"Foampaw?" Estherfern gulped, barely capable of hearing herself.
"Can I open my eyes now?" Anchovystrike gulped. He still had his paws over his face.
"They're gone!" Weevilpaw cried. She ran into the circle and plowed into Estherfern. The old molly looked back to the clouds, but they were now a simple sheet of gray against black. Honeybuzz and Troutpool joined them, pressing against Estherfern.
"Is StarClan still watching over us?" Wolfgaze asked, hopping into the circle.
"They left when the ritual began," Oilstripe stammered, staring across the river, "but they've returned. They're watching from afar. I can't tell what they're thinking."
"They're on our side," Honeybuzz promised, waving the others into the circle. "I petitioned them myself at the last half-moon. We wouldn't have done this if StarClan disapproved."
"They may not have disapproved," Estherfern muttered, "but that does not mean they are proud."
"I think they are!" Troutpool chirped. "It was scary, but we've banished the spirits. We can walk our lands freely again. We wouldn't have saved the Clan without you, Estherfern." Troutpool nuzzled Estherfern, but the old molly still stared at the clouds.
"I don't understand you, StarClan," she whispered, not caring whether the cats pressed into her overheard. "You ask my God to send me here, you stand by while I summon your enemies, you allow me to draw the gaze of something far worse on your descendants. Why?" The stars shall extend their power… the voice in Estherfern's head had been as clear as when Foampaw last stood by Estherfern's side. Was it somehow better for the Clans to attract the attention of the Six Predators? Was it an earnest decision, made for the betterment of the five Clans? Did StarClan desire more power, more control, more souls?
Estherfern sighed. She would find no answers that night. She would be the one providing answers soon enough.
(Estherfern: 112, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
(Honeybuzz: 26, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)
A dog-cat makes its appearance in the territories, one of many spirits that have appeared thanks to Estherfern. With Wolfpaw there to freeze the Spirit of Shadow, the battle patrol takes it down, but Mosspounce is bruised and Downstar breaks her leg.
[Image ID: Wolfpaw, Downstar, Mosspounce, Waspdawn, Scaleripple, and Moonpaw head off to battle. Downstar yowls "Stay together!" Under Downstar, it says + CONDITION: BROKEN BONE. Under Mosspounce, it says + CONDITION: BRUISES. Under Moonpaw, it says LEVEL UP! FAITHFUL → PLAYFUL.]
(Wolfpaw: 11, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)
(Downstar: 135, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Moonpaw: 11, female, warrior apprentice, playful, quick to help)
Tallowheart and Slushtrail earn their names.
[Image ID: Tallowheart and Slushtrail are adults! Under Tallowheart, it says LEVEL UP! TALLOWPAW → TALLOWHEART, SPLASHES IN PUDDLES → GOOD SWIMMER. Under Slushtrail, it says LEVEL UP! SLUSHPAW → SLUSHTRAIL, QUICK WITTED → CLEVER, BATS AT STRING → TALENTED WEAVER.]
(Tallowheart: 12, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)
Lightningpaw feels Weedfoot beside her as she and Cobaltpaw are apprenticed to Tallowheart and Lemmy. Lemmy agrees to train two apprentices since there are no more codekeepers for Cobaltpaw. Vervainpaw is left unhappy with sharing a mentor.
[Image ID: Vervainpaw watches Lightningpaw and Cobaltpaw become apprentices. Under Lightningpaw, it says LEVEL UP! LIGHTNINGKIT → LIGHTNINGPAW, SELF-CONSCIOUS → INSECURE. Under Cobaltpaw, it says LEVEL UP! COBALTKIT → COBALTPAW, QUIET → LOYAL. Under Vervainpaw, it says LEVEL UP! AMBITIOUS → BLOODTHIRSTY.]
(Lightningpaw: 6, female, historian apprentice, insecure, always wandering)
(Cobaltpaw: 6, female, codekeeper apprentice, loyal, loves to eat)
(Vervainpaw: 11, female, codekeeper apprentice, bloodthirsty, loves nature, quick to make peace)
Having snuck away from Puddlewhisper, Silverpaw finds an abandoned human den she didn’t remember seeing before. It takes her too long to figure out the den is secretly a honeybite’s mouth. The Clan never finds her body.
[Image ID: Silverpaw approaches a red bush with white eyes inside.]
