#tarn moons

[tarnclangen]

Moon 1 • Newleaf

Snowstar’s eyes are full of emotions Pebblepaw cannot name as he touches his nose to Pebblepaw’s. Skystripe begins to yowl his new name, and the rest of his Clanmates follow in kind. Pebblepaw knows he should be excited - and he is, somewhere down deep in his chest - but all he can think of is his mother. Was Ridgepelt excited to become an apprentice? Did she rush to leave camp and explore the territory? Did she enjoy learning to hunt and fight? Did she know she would die on a dark leafbare night? Freezing and starving and sick? Snowstar’s nose is as cold as she was when Pebblepaw woke up next to her that morning. 

A warm newleaf breeze drifts past him, curling around him and ruffling his fur. He takes a steadying breath.

“Ready for your tour of the territory, Pebblepaw?” Snowstar asks, warmth and pride clear in his every word. 

Pebblepaw nods, but Otterpaw bounces up and begins chattering before he can move. “Pebblepaw! I can’t wait for you to join me in my den - it’s so boring in there on my own! I have my nest in the best spot, but we can put your nest in the second best spot, and-” Otterpaw stopped talking, eyes on Snowstar. “Sorry, Snowstar, I know you’re busy. When you get back, I’ll help you get your nest together, okay Pebblepaw?”

“Thanks, Otterpaw,” Pebblepaw replies, giving him a small smile. 

“Let’s get going,” Snowstar says, and Pebblepaw follows his mentor out of camp. They walk to the edge of the island, following the shoreline to the stepping stones that would take them to the rest of their territory. Snowstar blocks the main path with his body. “Pebblepaw, your first task as an apprentice is to swim to shore.” Pebblepaw’s face must have betrayed his apprehension, because Snowstar’s face softened. “I’ll swim with you this time, but it’s important that you can cross this distance on your own in case of an emergency.”

Pebblepaw eyes the lake water, cold and still. “Do I have to?” he asks, looking up at Snowstar. “Otterpaw says there’s fish in there big enough to eat me in one bite.”

Snowstar gives him an affectionate lick between his ears. “Otterpaw may be right, but those fish swim very, very deep. The water here is fairly shallow, and I’ll be here with you the whole time. You don’t have to worry about being eaten, kit,” Snowstar promises. He turns and enters the dark water, stopping partway in to watch Pebblepaw slip in after him. Pebblepaw can’t help but gasp when the cold water seeps through his fur; it takes all of his strength to stay in the lake and not return to the warm nursery. “You’ll get warmer as you keep moving,” Snowstar says, beginning the swim to the shores of the lake.

Pebblepaw doesn’t believe him, but he feels a bit warmer when they arrive on the pebbled beach nonetheless.

Snowstar shows him the Shallows as though they were a new sight to see, even though Pebblepaw had sat there with Ridgepelt as she told him about the fish and the rocks and the ripples, even though she had laughed as he splashed around even in the cold of leaf-fall. His mentor takes him to where the stream meets the lake, and describes how it flows down from the Lodge and the Twolegplace as though it wasn’t Pebblepaw himself who suggested they follow the stream two moons earlier. Pebblepaw stays quiet as Snowstar shows him places he already knows. He isn’t focused on his mentor, too busy being curled up in the memories of exploring the territory with his mother when the group had first arrived. 

When they finally come to rest in the Training Field, Snowstar sits. He explains that here is where they’ll do most of their battle training, as well as learn the basics of hunting. Pebblepaw sits next to him, thinking of blood and claws and leafbares with not enough food to go around, and when a warm wind rustles his fur, he cries.

Snowstar’s demeanor changes immediately, curling around him and pressing in close. Pebblepaw leans into his mentor, and tells him that he can’t do it. He’s not strong enough and he doesn’t want to be a warrior. 

Snowstar hums thoughtfully, and stays silent while Pebblepaw calms down. Sunbeams pour down onto them while Pebblepaw sniffles, chest no longer heaving.

“Kit, you’ve been acting strangely all day. Please, tell me what you’ve been worrying about.”

Pebblepaw takes a breath, and it all tumbles out of him. “I don’t want to be an apprentice. I want to be a kit again! I don’t remember what my dad looked like anymore, and one day I won’t remember what Ridgepelt looked like or sounded like or smelled like either, and she died because she wouldn’t eat so that I could eat but now i’m not a kit so next time there’s not enough prey, I’ll have to give up mine to Skystripe’s kits, and then I’ll die too. I don’t want to die,” Pebblepaw sobbed. “I’m scared, Snowstar.”

Snowstar curled tighter around the apprentice, gently grooming him. “Pebblepaw, your mother will always be with you. The wind is her breath and the rustling leaves are her voice; she is smoke and stone and light; she loves you more than anything. And I love you, too. And so does Skystripe. And we will walk with you until the trees fall and the mountain crumbles and the Brightest Star comes tumbling down to your paws. And this will all be true if you decide that the path of a warrior is not for you. I will not lie to you, Pebblepaw, it is not an easy life. It is full of hardships. But for many of us, it is also a life of joy and love, with a community to care for and to care for us in return. But  you do not have to live a life you don’t wish to, Pebblepaw.”

The warm wind rustles Pebblepaw’s fur and the leaves in the trees. Pebblepaw thinks of Hyssopbloom and the games she comes up with for them to play, and Otterpaw who always takes time to show him bugs and plants and funny-shaped clouds. Of Skystripe and the nest they made in the nursery for her and her kits. Of Doveshade and Mistyfur, who had left their easy life at the Lodge behind to join the Clan. “Do you promise?” Pebblepaw asks, looking up at Snowstar.

“With all nine of my lives,” the leader replies.

“Then I think I want to be a warrior here, in TarnClan.”

Notes

Skystripe announces that she is expecting kits. Pebblepaw gives her advice on the best place to make her nest in the nursery, since he’s lived there the longest, and happily helps her build it.

Doveshade returns from hunting with the biggest squirrel Pebblepaw has ever seen!

Hyssopbloom invites Pebblepaw over to eat a meal with her. The two talk about his training, and enjoy their time together.

Prev Moon | Next Moon

[tarnclangen]

Moon 0 • Newleaf

He wakes in an unfamiliar clearing, trees standing tall and branches framing the starry night sky. Even after all these moons, the sight of the glittering lights sickens him, rage rolling in his gut. Stars blink at him like watchful eyes. Snowbloom turns away from the sky.

A gray and white molly approaches him from the trees. She looks healthy and full, different from the half-starved corpse she became after whitecough took her. She shines in the moonlight. He can’t help but mourn the leader she would never become.

He purrs. Her fur is smoke and stone and light, and she purrs too. “Ridgepelt, I’m… I’m so sorry,” he says. “I failed you.”

“No,” she replies, gently. “You have done nothing of the sort. Cats die, Snowbloom. I knew the journey would be hard and our destination was uncertain. I made my choices myself, and I am proud of them. Now, chin up! I know you wanted it to be me, but it is time for you to receive your nine lives."

Snowbloom raises his head up, shocked. “Our ancestors have followed us?”

Ridgepelt shook her head, gently touching her tail to his shoulder. “For now, there is only me. I give you your first life, Snowbloom: for love. The love of a parent, of a sibling, of a friend. The love that ties a Clan together, and the love that drove you to pull LightClan apart.” The life rolls through him, an embrace that burns like anger and soothes like home. 

He isn’t sure what will happen next - life-giving ceremonies were private between the leader and the stars. With no sky full of ancestors, would RIdgepelt give him all nine lives? She was watching him with a small smile on her face, knowing more than she let on. Not her for the rest, then.

He searches the treeline for the next life-giver, and startles when one of the trees creaks and groans, bending down to surround him in its boughs. “Your second life is from the trees,” Ridgepelt tells him. “For growth; for standing tall during storms, for bending so you do not break.” This life makes him feel as though he is rooted in place, even as something batters his body. He tilts away from the assault, but his paws stay firmly planted in the soil. The tree creaks and groans and returns to its place in the forest.

Next is the undergrowth, brambles and ferns sprouting from the ground until he cannot move without rustling a leaf, and cannot see through the thick cover. “For patience,” Ridgepelt explains. “It takes time to grow and cover, to create such a safe shelter. It takes equal time to traverse it, searching for what you want to find.” Snowbloom hears a mouse scampering through the leaf litter, and though he does not move, he feels thorns sliding through his fur as though he was stalking through the forest.

A wind picks up, blowing away the green flora until he is once again in the clearing, though now he is pelted by rain and hail, sun and snow. “The wind grants you speed,” Ridgepelt tells him. “Swiftness to catch your prey, to play with kits, to save your Clanmates.” The wind picks up until he, too, feels he may blow away, and then it settles.

“Your fifth life is from the Brightest Star,” Ridgepelt says. “For guidance. That you lead your Clan wisely, and share all that you know.” His world is plunged into darkness, and as he adjusts to the sudden change, he hears a soft voice. His mother whispers to him, telling the story of the Brightest Star, that which brought forth the sun and moon and land, cradling all things in its soft glow. She shows him how he can always use it to find his way home. The memory shakes him as he gazes up at the lone star he can see. He had almost forgotten the sound of his mother’s voice.

The star grows brighter, until the clearing and Ridgpelet have returned, the sky is clear and blue, and the sun shines down upon him. “The sun grants life. Without it, plants could not grow, and prey could not feed, and we could not thrive,” Ridgepelt murmurs. “Those that we feed would die and those that feed on them would suffer too. The sun gifts you a life for nurturing, and of knowing that all things feed another.” He feels the warmth of the sun on his pelt and the heat of jaws at his throat, and is at peace.

A small mouse, only just growing its fur, approaches him next. It stands proud, though it is smaller than his own paw. He could catch it or crush it, but instead smiles at the young creature fondly. Ridgepelt speaks again. “From prey, for balance. For taking enough, but not too much. For respecting all things, even the smallest among us.” This life comes to him as terror deep in his chest. As though he is running for his life, as though he is chasing salvation, and all the while moving along a branch so thin one misstep will cause it to break.

When he feels his paws on steady ground once again, he opens eyes he didn't realize he had closed. Standing before him now is a massive beast he has only heard of in stories. Dark-furred and strange, the bear stares down at him. “From predator, for strength,” Ridgepelt says. The bear roars at him, gaping maw and sharp teeth filling his vision, and he knows without being told: for protecting the small. For standing his ground. For letting go. Snowbloom roars back. The bear nods, satisfied, and lumbers away.

“One more,” Ridgepelt tells him encouragingly. Snowbloom already feels battered and exhausted. Good thing he’s stubborn, too. Ridgepelt pushes their foreheads together. “Watch over my son,” she says. “Know that I am with you always. The wind is my breath and the rustling leaves are my voice. I will not reside in the sky, but I and all who come after me will walk with your Clan.”

“I will watch over him and guide him and love him,” Snowbloom promises, thinking of the young cat sleeping next to him in his den.

Ridgepelt nods. “When you wake, you will be Snowstar.” As the molly speaks, a wind picks up, and Snowbloom smells smoke. “Your final life is from the wildfire. For destruction.” Flame crackles all around him, and smoke and ash sting his eyes. “And all that comes after.”

Ridgepelt turns to smoke and joins the dark cloud growing above him, and he is quickly engulfed in flame. The fire and the forest and the leader burns and he screams; the fire recedes quickly, leaving nothing but ash and stone behind. In the wreckage, lungs heaving, eyes stinging, stands Snowstar.

He wakes.

Notes

After receiving his nine lives, Snowstar gathers the group to declare them a full Clan. He appoints Doveshade as his deputy, commending her even temper and thoughtful nature, and Doveshade is honored to accept the position.

Skystripe requests that their Clan doesn't keep the role of medicine cat, not wanting to be bound to the code of their former Clan. The group designates her a Healer, allowing her to focus more on healing her Clanmates than on interpreting visions and omens, and giving her the freedom to have a mate and kits of her own. 

The group finally decides on their name: TarnClan, for the lake they have made their home.

Prev Moon | Next Moon

[tarnclangen]

Moon 2 • Newleaf

Pebblepaw slinks forward, eyes intent on the squirrel before him. It’s focused on digging in the undergrowth, and he is focused on it. He knows that somewhere out of view, Snowstar and Doveshade area watching from the undergrowth. Otterpaw and Hyssopbloom are cutting off the prey’s escape routes. Otterpaw is learning to coordinate group hunts, and Pebblepaw is honestly pretty bored of being part of it.

A breeze rustles the leaves, and the squirrel sits up. It must have scented Hyssopbloom from her newly-upwind position. Pebblepaw prepares to leap for it, certain it’s about to scamper away - and he’s right, there it goes - and he leaps. 

But it’s too late, and he misses its bushy tail by a paw as it scurries away from him and straight into Otterpaw’s claws. “Good catch!” Doveshade mews. Pebblepaw scuffs a paw against the ground - sure, a good catch on Otterpaw’s part, but Pebblepaw had been so close to catching it himself.

“That was a good jump, Pebblepaw,” Snowstar says. “The squirrel was far away, but you leapt as far as you could. I know you’re disappointed you missed, but don’t fret. You’ll get stronger with training and age. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Pebblepaw replies, mood brightening. Snowstar’s praise warms him from ears to tailtip. He pushes down a purr, determined to be the mature apprentice he wants to be.

“What can you do in the future to-” Doveshade cuts herself off, suddenly alert and scanning the forest like the squirrel was moments ago. Pebblepaw looks to Snowstar, but hears the cries before he can ask the question.

Mistyfur bursts into the clearing. His breaths are short and quick and his eyes are wild, wide and unfocused. Doveshade is at his side in an instant, comforting her son. “Mistyfur, what’s going on?” Snowstar asks. 

“Dog,” Mistyfur whispers, trembling. “Big. Sharp teeth.” Pebblepaw presses closer to Snowstar, searching the undergrowth around them for snarling fangs and massive paws. The Twolegs usually kept them on leashes, but Pebblepaw had seen the massive beasts before. “My tail.” Mistyfur whimpers. 

The small clearing falls silent. Pebblepaw feels as though even the birds and the bugs are noticing that Mistyfur’s tail is mangled and bloody. He feels sick. Is this what being a warrior is? Red and sour?

“It’s coming,” Hyssopbloom says grimly. Pebblepaw can hear the rustling in the undergrowth, and realizes the dog must be following the trail of sticky blood Mistyfur left.

Snowstar nods decisively. “Hyssopbloom, take Mistyfur somewhere safe. A thorn bush, or a dense bramble. Doveshade, with me. Otterpaw and Pebblepaw, stay back. Don’t get too close, but try to get a few hits in while we draw its focus.”

Hyssopbloom begins hauling Mistyfur away, murmuring gently to him as the remaining warriors get into position. Otterpaw turns to Pebblepaw, eyes full of fire. “If I tell you to climb a tree, you climb,” the older apprentice orders. Pebblepaw nods. My mother is smoke and stone and light. The wind is her breath and the rustling leaves are her voice, and she will love me and walk with me until the trees fall and the mountain crumbles and-

The dog bursts through the undergrowth, leaping straight for Doveshade. She yowls and leaps for its eyes.

Pebblepaw often daydreamed of his first real battle, how he would feel strong and powerful. He thought it would be exciting. Instead, it was horrifying. The scent of blood fills the air and terror claws away any clarity beyond slashing out at dark fur when it comes close to him. The fight could have been a few moments or a few moons, but when it ends, Snowstar curls around him and Pebblepaw’s chest heaves.

“Who’s hurt?” Snowstar calls. Pebblepaw isn’t able to check himself for injuries well with Snowstar surrounding him, but he doesn’t feel any pain. Just a bone-deep exhaustion.

“Otterpaw has a scratch, and my ear was nicked, but we’re both okay,” Doveshade reports.

“I’m okay, and Mistyfur doesn’t have any further injuries,” Hyssopbloom adds, guiding Mistyfur back into the clearing. The two of them are covered in burrs, and Mistyfur looks about to collapse.

Snowstar nods. “Otterpaw, run ahead and tell Skystripe what’s happened. Doveshade, you and I will support Mistyfur. Hyssopbloom, you and Pebblepaw take the rear. Let us know if you hear anything - that dog likely won’t return, but we’ll want plenty of warning if it does.”

Otterpaw races off through the trees, and Pebblepaw begins walking next to Hyssopbloom. The journey to camp is quiet, tense, and slow as the group creeps through the undergrowth. Pebblepaw worries that every noise he hears is the dog returning, but Hyssopbloom is a comforting presence at his side. His paws feel heavy as he walks and his breath catches in his chest. He is caught between staring at the ground in front of him, to ensure he doesn’t step on a wayward twig or dried leaf, and frantically scanning the forest around him, terrified that the dog has found them once again.

It isn’t until the entirety of their group has crossed the stepping stones that some of the tension begins leaving his haunches. Skystripe gives them all instructions he doesn’t quite hear, but Hyssopbloom directs him gently with a tail over his shoulders. He watches Mistyfur collapse into a nest. The lake water had washed most of the blood off of his tail, and Pebblepaw briefly wondered if the red water would entice Bigmaw to their camp. He shudders at the thought of a beast so close to his home.

Skystripe comes and fusses over him, speaking quietly with Hyssopbloom as she checks him for injuries. None of their words are loud enough to hear over the buzzing in his head.

Skystripe sets a few leaves on the ground in front of him. “Pebblepaw,” she says gently. “Can you hear me?” 

Pebblepaw nods. “It was- it was so big,” he tells her. It’s the only thing he can think to say.

“I know, kit,” she replies, rubbing her cheek on the top of his head. “Eat these. They’ll help you calm down. Hyssopbloom is going to take you into the clearing so you can both have something to eat. Come back here if you feel unwell, okay, Pebblepaw?”

Pebblepaw nods, licking up the leaves in front of him. They don’t taste good, really, but they make his mouth feel as though he has just taken a sip of the cold mountain stream. Once Hyssopbloom is sure he’s eaten them all, she guides him outside. They pick a squirrel from the fresh-kill pile and settle down next to each other in a patch of sunlight. Pebblepaw shifts, unable to find a position in which his pelt doesn’t itch. 

After a few moments of him fidgeting, unable to focus on the meal, Hyssopbloom laughs. “Sorry, Pebblepaw,” she says, smiling. ‘I’ve still got burrs in my fur. Maybe you can help me clean them out after we eat?” 

Pebblepaw angles himself away from Hyssopbloom, and nods. A warm breeze ruffles his fur as he begins eating, and he finally settles back into himself. He’s still here. His Clan is okay.

He made it through his first real fight. Like a true warrior.

Notes

Skystripe reluctantly moves from the Healer's Den to the nursery. Pebblepaw always gives her his best catches.

Doveshade gets a runny nose.