Decided to use Artfight to learn HiPaint on my new tablet. Once I'm more comfortable with it I should be able to do art even when I'm away (50% of my life lolol)
Unfortunately I'm still slow, so I don't get all my revenges done. I got closer than I thought I would tbh, even if part 2 was submitted to AF as just sketches and finished after the cutoff for AF... c':
But! Eventually I will get the last few done! Sorry if U are still waiting ;v;
Silvereye- Outrun the Night
Darkest Night- @heavensgaze
Silversnow- @krazyonkatnipart
Fish n' Chips- @blacksa1t
Petuniafox- @kcsparkclan
Tonametl- @nekonotaishou
Songpaw- @loudclan-clangen
Tidechaser- @saffronique
Corvidcall- @birbb-b
Palettes can be found here
note: I modified some of them to make the values stronger/ more fitting for the character
Transparent version- character owners use as U will uvu-b
She heard him arrive more than she saw him. Quiet, muffled pawsteps brushing over the sand. "Why did you follow me?" Spindlefleck asked quietly.
"No reason," Tidechaser replied evenly. "But I know what it's like, to sit here, hoping that the cat you're longing to see will appear for you."
"And did they?" Spindlefleck thought she knew the answer.
"No," he replied, "and neither will Currentheart. Not tonight. Not to you."
His words stung, but she supposed they were true. Pearl and Currentheart had named Dustjump as the bridge between their worlds. They sat in silence for a while before she had the courage to break it again.
"I guess I hoped... that being here would help me make sense of it all. My life isn't turning out at all the way I thought it would."
"No cat's does."
Tidechaser didn't turn to look at her as he spoke. It was a simple statement. She supposed that most cats would find it insensitive. But she didn't think he'd meant it that way, and she didn't find herself feeling hurt or belittled by his words. No cat's does... Somehow, that made her feel a little bit less lonely.
"Did... did that really happen?" Quiver gaped as Splashstone finished his song. It all sounded so fantastical, the spirits of dead cats appearing and speaking to their living friends... well, now that she thought about it, it sounded a little spooky. But the way these TurtleClanners spoke of it, they hadn't seen it that way.
"It did," Dustjump, the old molly who had bound her broken paw, confirmed, her chin held high and pride glowing in her eyes. "We were all there, we all saw them that night."
Quiver crouched down, flattening her ears. "Are they... going to appear again?" She wasn't ready to meet any all-seeing ghosts. What if they didn't like her staying with TurtleClan while she healed? What if they found her as strange and off-putting as most cats seemed to? What if...? She felt her heart rate starting to pick up, heard her own blood rushing in her ears.
"No," Spindlefleck's tail draped over her shoulders pulled her out of her head more than her initial words. "Currentheart and Pearl said they couldn't just appear at will, and they selected Dustjump as their contact among us, besides."
"Oh." Quiver felt her heartbeat slow back to an even pulse at Spindlefleck's words, and Dustjump's nod of confirmation. That was... good. Comforting. Safe. She thought she could get used to the idea of ghosts watching her as long as she didn't have to see them. And everyone was so kind here, she didn't want to let some silly ghosts put her off... maybe it was alright for her to finally relax for a little while, to catch her breath.
Dustjump blinked slowly down at the body of the young cat before her. The sounds of her mourning companions filled her ears, mixing together into a crescendo of grief and loss. She’d swore to herself she would never lose another cat. Not after that night on the ship when they’d lost nearly everything. She’d fought with all she had in her to save Foam and Brokenmast, and when she’d succeeded it had felt good. Powerful. Like perhaps she could keep them all alive if she just worked hard enough. With Currentheart, she hadn’t even had the chance to try.
Tidechaser had strode into camp in the pouring rain, pelt plastered to his sides, the water making the huge tom look so much smaller than he usually did. Sand had been trailing behind him, tail dragging in the mud and head low, looking like he’d just experienced the wreck anew. Dustjump hadn’t even needed to see the bloodied ginger fur of the cat across Tidechaser’s shoulders to know that another tragedy had caught up to them at last. It had been something called a boar, Tidechaser had told them. They’d never ventured this close to the coast before, but now that one was here, they all needed to be more cautious. Dustjump had barely heard a word he said, too absorbed with the loss of the young, energetic tom.
For a while, it seemed like they could have made a life here. Had that been anything more than a grand illusion? There were no kits among them now. Many of the cats in their group were young, but in time, they would age and die as well, if disease or bloodshed or strange accidents like the one today didn’t take them first. And then everything they had built would be gone, nothing more than dust on the wind, with no-one left to remember that their paws had ever left prints on these dunes. The cats that had died on the ship had been the same. Her housefolk had been the same. They’d all been taken away, and when Dustjump was gone, everything she’d known about them would vanish, like they’d never even existed at all. It was a sad, bleak fate that they all shared. Dustjump wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so hopeless or alone, not even after the night of the wreck. What do we do now? If we’re all going to fade into nothing, why bother trying at all?
Dustjump felt a shifting under her feet and snatched her paw back with a hiss. She expected to see one of the little crabs that scurried across the beach without end. Annoying, painful, even, if they got you in the right place, but not particularly harmful. What she saw was too odd and dark to be a crab. She peered down into the sand, gazing deep into the creature's strange face and dark, shining eyes. She didn’t have long to look, though, because as soon as it had shaken itself free of the sand, it began pushing away with its strange, pawless limbs. Dustjump felt a spark of recognition. It was the flippers that gave it away. It was a turtle. She had seen a few in greenleaf up on the beaches, digging around in the sand. She hadn’t gotten close enough to see what they’d been doing then, but Dustjump supposed that the emergence of this strange, disproportionate little turtle indicated that they’d been kitting. Or whatever it was that turtles did. The little turtle finally disappeared over the rise of the dune, and Dustjump let her gaze linger where it had vanished. She wondered, vaguely, where it was going. Then she felt another nudge at her paw. Dustjump looked down to find the sand nearly churning beneath her paws as turtle after turtle fought its way free of the earth. How big are their litters, she thought in dismay. A few even emerged from under Currentheart’s body, and she could just make out her campmates murmuring to one another in confusion and discomfort.
There were so many of the creatures, coming out all over the place, scrambling in every direction. It felt almost disrespectful to Currentheart and the vigil they had been trying to hold. She was about to suggest moving their fallen friend when the little creatures, previously flailing about every which way in a chaotic display of confusion and fear, began to turn, one by one and in groups, all in the direction that the first turtle had vanished. Then they started pushing forward in a desperate struggle, as though something was calling them, guiding them…
Dustjump’s breath caught in her throat. The words of the legend Tidechaser had shared moons ago rang in her ears: “if ever you or your descendents are lost on the way to the Realm of Stars, me and my kin will seek you out…” Dustjump inhaled sharply as Tidechaser spoke the words she’d been thinking into existence once more. “...and guide you on your way.”
Dustjump didn’t give herself time to think or doubt. She heard the yowls of shock and question behind her, and realized that she was already on her paws, already running. She didn’t stop to explain, she couldn’t stop. Please understand, she implored them in her mind. Please follow.
Tidechaser must have taken off at the same moment she had, or heartbeats after, because he was beside her now, pulling in front of her. Oh no you don’t! She increased her pace, pushing faster, faster. She had to be there first. She didn’t know why she was so certain, she just knew. They set a brutal, paw-pounding pace over the dunes, kicking up sand in their wake. Up and down the dunes they went, following the trails of the tiny, dark turtles crawling towards the open sea. Dustjump’s jaws were wide now, her breathing heavy as her lungs ached with effort. When was the last time she’d run like this? The night of the wreck? No, she’d been too exhausted. Maybe never. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, but not in the hopeless, soul-sucking sense she’d felt when she’d lost everything on that fateful night. Right here, right now, nothing else mattered, because this moment was so immense, so important that it swallowed everything else up. Her whole life, everything she’d ever known had been building to this moment.
They crested the rise of the last dune, looking down upon a beach alive with motion as hundreds of tiny turtles struggled towards a sea dancing with white starlight like it was their destiny. On another night, the site would have been breathtaking, but tonight Dustjump barely stopped to glance at it. She knew that her tiny companions would not mind. They were all striving towards the same vast ocean.
Dustjump reached the water heartbeats before Tidechaser did, both of them skidding to a stop on the wet sand, the gentle ebb and flow of the tide washing over their paws.The clouds had cleared, and the starlight was bright on the water now, nearly blinding in its brilliance. Dustjump took a deep breath and let her heart, not her mind, guide her.
“Currentheart, Pearl… I’m sorry it took me so long to understand. But I’m here now. And I’m ready to listen.”
The starlight on the water shifted, trembled, swirled, seemed to rise up out of the ocean to rest above it. And then they were before her. Dustjump gasped, and heard Tidechaser’s sharp inhale of breath beside her. They were beautiful. The memory of the dull, glassy-eyed corpse amidst the dunes above was obliterated by this vibrant young cat that seemed to radiate life and strength. Eyes shining with white fire, stars glittering in his pelt, he dipped his head to her. The cat beside him was no less resplendent, her ginger pelt glossy and thick with its own stars, a serene expression resting gently on her face. She swept her tail around her paws and spoke. “We are pleased to greet you, Dustjump and Tidechaser. We have been waiting.” Pearl’s voice was still her own, but there was a strength to it, a resonance that had not been present in life. Dustjump bowed her head before them, struck momentarily speechless by their majesty.
Thankfully, Tidechaser voiced the words that she could not seem to formulate. “How… how is this possible? The legend said… but I never suspected…”
“All legends have a kernel of truth somewhere,” Currentheart responded, his voice echoing with light and life, “this one had more than most.”
Pearl’s starry gaze fixed on something behind Dustjump. The others must have followed us, after all. She turned to face her companions to a chorus of sound. Some exclamations were surprised, some confused, a few scared. Shell had clearly led the group, standing stock still a few paces ahead of them now, her eyes blown wide. “Currentheart… Pearl… I… Dustjump, what is going on?”
Dustjump opened her jaws to reply, but her words were drowned out by a howl so filled with grief and love and longing that it took her breath away. Sand barreled past Shell, past Dustjump and Tidechaser to collapse before the starry figure of Currentheart in a bundle of trembling cream colored fur. “Currentheart, Currentheart I’m so sorry, it should’ve been me, you shouldn’t have pushed me out of the way!”
“The choice was mine to make, my teacher, my friend,” Currentheart’s words were gentle, but firm. “I would make the same choice if I could go back to that moment, knowing what would happen.”
“It isn’t fair,” Sand moaned, “that I should live only by your loss. How am I supposed to live with that?”
“You do not live by my loss. You live by my gift. That which was freely given, out of love. Do not waste the life I saved by bemoaning the other paths fate might have taken. Honor that gift by living your life fully, by being true to yourself, by caring for those around you.”
Dustjump stood beside Sand now, brushing her tail over his spine in a soothing gesture. The trembling stopped, and he drew in a long, shaky breath. “I’ll try,” he promised. “I’ll be the best cat I can be, and I’ll make you proud.”
“I’ll be watching over you, always.” Currentheart purred.
Dustjump hated to break in, but Tidechaser seemed to have no such compunctions. “Is that how this works then? When cats die they watch over us from the Realm of Stars, just like in the stories? And we can just talk to them whenever we want?” Pearl considered an answer, but Tidechaser didn’t give her time to formulate one, his tone growing suspicious, hostile. “I… I tried to reach you, once. When Wavehopper died. I sat for hours, staring at the sea night after night, talking to the air, hoping, praying that I would reach her. Why didn’t it work then, if it works now? Where is she?”
Oh, Tidechaser. Dustjump wondered if she would ever know everything there was to this cat she considered her friend.
Pearl sighed, her tail tip twitching. “There are a number of reasons you couldn’t reach her. It would take all night to explain all of them. But the biggest part of it is community. What you all have built here on this beach, with cats supporting one another, learning and growing and sharing experiences, is something very special. You are all part of something greater than yourselves, a great web of connections. You each have a unique bond to every other cat here, you each know small details about one another that perhaps no other cat knows. And most importantly, you share memories of one another. That kind of closeness–even to cats you lack a deep personal connection with–it doesn’t just vanish when a cat leaves the mortal realm to walk the stars. That thread of the web may be gone, but the threads that surrounded it, the memories that those still living share with the dead, those things linger, and it is that which keeps a spirit connected to the world of the living.”
“So?” Tidechaser growled, “I haven’t forgotten Wavehopper. I think about her every day. Are you saying I didn’t love her enough to keep her here?”
“Tidechaser,” Dustjump hissed a warning, but Pearl gestured with her tail to show that she took no offense.
“Tidechaser, which tree is less likely to fall? One with a single thick root, or one with many branching roots?
“One with branching roots,” Tidechaser growled,” but I don’t see why–”
“Connections between the living and dead work the same way,” Currentheart interrupted, his voice deep but gentle. “Many connections anchor a cat more closely to the living world than a single one, no matter how deep it runs.”
Tidechaser fell silent, his shoulders slumping.
“That does not mean your sister is lost, Tidechaser,” Pearl added gently. “She waits for you in our realm–the Realm of the Stars. You will see her again when you join us.”
Tidechaser nodded silently, his tirade at an end.
“So you’re saying that… because we all knew you two, and because we all know each other, we’re…linked?” Dustjump felt callus, moving the conversation away from Tidechaser’s sister, but she was desperate to understand what the starry cats were saying. Pearl nodded, and Dustjump continued. “And cats outside of this… this Clan of ours still walk the stars, they just aren’t tethered to our world?”
“Clan,” Pearl purred, “that is the perfect name for it. Other cats have formed Clans, in other places, other times. This will be the first Clan to live along these shores, though. Yes, Dustjump, you understand my meaning very well. I was right to choose you. When the cats of your living Clan die, young or old, they will come and join our group in the stars–StarClan.”
“StarClan…” Dustjump breathed. The word felt powerful, felt right. Then the rest of Pearl’s words caught up to her. “Wait–you said you chose me? For what?”
“To be the first intermediary between us and your living Clan,” Pearl announced proudly. “It is a duty commonly given to a Clan’s Healer–though there have been other titles, should you prefer them– Star Seeker, Seer, Medicine Cat…”
“Healer!” Dustjump blurted out. “I like Healer. It’s what I am, it’s what I do.” The other names also made her head spin with the implications, but she didn’t want to say that out loud. A Healer… she could be a Healer. “But why do you need an intermediary? You’ve appeared to us all tonight, why not continue to do that?”
Pearl shook her head sadly. “Tonight is a rare night– the sky is clear, the moon is high, and we have only recently passed the Longest Night, and our realms are still close to one another. It is easier to touch your realm now than it otherwise will be. Even so, to appear to so many cats outside of the Longest Night is not an easy task. It is far easier to find a single cat to speak to–a cat who holds dear the memories of those who have passed, who is willing to follow her heart and listen to the whispers on the wind. When we wish to speak, we will most frequently speak with you. In dreams and in signs we will most often reach you, but if you need us, search for us in the reflections of the stars on the water, and we will come.”
Dustjump dipped her head, honored by their faith in her. “I will be ready to listen when you call,” she promised humbly.
Pearl turned her blazing gaze away from Dustjump, focusing on Shell, who sat up straighter. “And you, dear Shell… oh, what can I even say? I am so proud of you.” There was a fondness in Pearl’s voice that had been present for no other cat, and Dustjump wondered at the bond they shared. “You have been the North Star to the survivors, guiding them through the wreck and helping them build a new life here. Shell is no more, for I name you Shellstar, guiding light of your Clan. Think carefully on the cat you wish to lead the Clan next, and make them your deputy, so that even after you are gone, the Clan will not be without a guiding star.”
“Shellstar,” Dustjump breathed her friend’s new name like a prayer, and swept through the rest of the survivors like a gentle breeze.
“Shellstar, Shellstar, Shellstar…”
“Cats of the shipwreck, survivors, warriors,” Pearl raised her voice to address the rest of the group as the whispers of Shellstar’s new name faded out. “We led you here tonight to show you that what is lost is never truly gone, so long as you keep faith and hold it in your hearts. You are more than you were when you arrived on this beach– you are a Clan, and a Clan supports its members through all manner of hardship. But each Clan must have a name that defines it–a name that binds its members together through meaning and memory. By what name do you wish to be called?”
Unlike when Currentheart had been named, there was no discussion amongst the onlookers, no pondering of options. This name would define not a single cat, but every cat among them, as well as their descendents far into the future. To put forth an option that you lacked absolute conviction in was unthinkable. You either knew the Clan’s name, or you didn’t.
And Dustjump knew.
“TurtleClan!” The word ripped free of her chest like a bird taking flight, like something she’d held inside her heart for moons finally breaking free. “We are TurtleClan, always striving towards the sea and the stars, honoring those who came before us with our every breath.”
Silence.
And then cheers. “TurtleClan! TurtleClan! TurtleClan! TURTLECLAN!”
Currentheart raised his tail for silence, and the cheering slowly faded out. It was Pearl who spoke. “Cats of TurtleClan, we implore you to live truly, to care for one another, and to act with honor until it is your time to join us in StarClan. We are with you always, through your pains and glories, through high and low, times both harsh and kind. Never forget where you came from, or all that you have gone through to get there.”
It was a farewell, and they all knew it. On the distant horizon, Dustjump could make out the slightest lightening of the sky. The night was coming to a close, and the stars would soon fade into dawn. “Go in peace,” Dustjump whispered. “I will be ready to receive your messages, when you are ready to share them.”
The StarClan cat’s eyes sparkled with joy and fulfillment as the silver stars in their pelts winked out one by one, and their forms faded into mist. The cats remained on the shoreline long after the spirits had faded, staring out across the ocean as the sun rose for the first time on TurtleClan.
“...and so, it sounds a lot to me like the cats who attacked her are the same ones that killed Margo and drove me out,” Brokenmast concluded.
“Thank you, Brokenmast,” Shellstar replied calmly. Internally she wanted to wail. An unknown, aggressive group of cats was the last thing the burgeoning TurtleClan needed to deal with right now, so soon after leafbare. Pearl might have honored them with the title of “warriors”, but the truth was that all of them were more hunters than fighters. She knew that Currentheart and Sandtail had encouraged the other cats to start sparring with each other, but it had never been as big of a priority as finding food, and she feared that against a group of cats both belligerent and intelligent, they would all come up lacking. And yet it was her duty to prepare her Clan as best she could for the potential threat.
Shellstar clawed her way up the Tallmast, taking a moment to let the cool air off the ocean ruffle her fur and calm her mind before she gathered her Clan. “Let all cats old enough to hunt gather here beneath the Tallmast for a Clan meeting!” Her summons had changed since they’d officially become TurtleClan, but her campmates responded just the same, heads popping out of dens all around camp. It was a good time for a meeting. All of TurtleClan was in camp just after sunhigh, sharing tongues and enjoying a midday meal before returning to their various duties, so they gathered quickly and completely–she even caught a glimpse of Quiver, broken paw bound tight against a branch, crouched awkwardly just outside of the entrance of Dustjump’s den. That was good. The molly was a bit jumpy and strange, but TurtleClan was small, and they needed more cats familiar with the area and the threats it had to offer–Currentheart’s death had proved that much. Perhaps they could convince her to stay after she healed.
“Cats of TurtleClan,” Shellstar began, “Brokenmast has been speaking with Quiver,” –the cream colored molly jumped at the mention of her name–”and he found many similarities in her story to the cats that attacked him and Margo some seasons ago. We suspect these cats are an organized group, and fear that they may cause trouble for TurtleClan down the line.”
“They will,” Tidechaser’s lilting tone drifted up from the back of the clearing. Shellstar stiffened.
“You sound familiar with them,” she said, letting her words fall flatly.
“I know of them,” he corrected, “they call themselves the Children of Salt and Sand. They’re a group of cats that believe only cats who are direct descendents of the First Children–the first cats to walk these beaches–deserve to live upon the shores. They think that everyone else has a duty to either serve as they see fit, or move far, far away.”
Whispering broke out among the Clan at Tidechaser’s revelation.
“Is that so,” Shellstar grated out each word individually. This was more than a passing rumor he’d picked up this Newleaf. No, this was something that Tidechaser had known for moons, probably before they’d even wrecked on the beach. And he hadn’t said a word up until now. Not when they’d arrived, not when Brokenmast had been left for dead by these brutes, and not any time after that, either. Shellstar tried to control her anger, forcing her fur flat. There was one more thing she had to know right away.
“How soon will they become a problem for us?”
“Not for moons yet. Maybe seasons. They’ll eventually want to claim the whole beach, but their attention is focused further upshore for now, and even after that, they’ll want to take care of any lone cats before they try to force out a larger group.”
“I see. Tidechaser, come speak with me in my den for more details. The rest of you are dismissed for now. No cat goes anywhere near the borders alone until we know more.”
Sandtail dipped his head in understanding, waving the rest of the Clan forward to organize them into patrols for their evening duties. Shellstar barely noticed. Her ears were buzzing with fury as she stalked stiffly into her den to await Tidechaser. He was only a few pawsteps behind her, and as soon as he’d passed through the old window she rounded on him, back arched.
“Where did all of that come from?” Shellstar exploded. “How long have you known that we were sleeping in a fox’s den, just waiting for it to come back.”
“I’ve known from the beginning. The group was founded two seasons before you all arrived here.”
At least he wasn’t lying about it now. “And you never thought to tell us?”
“You never thought to ask,” he countered.
“I shouldn’t have to,” Shellstar spat, “you shouldn’t need me to ask you about whether or not we were all in danger since the moment we arrived here. You must know how it looks–how it’s always looked. You showing up to join a strange group of cats with no explanation when you clearly didn’t care enough to help us during the wreck, the way you always held yourself apart from us, doing exactly as you were told and nothing more. So give me a real answer. One that gives me the tiniest reason why I should allow you to remain in TurtleClan when you’ve been lying through your teeth to us the whole time.”
“I never lied,” Tidechaser protested. “But I didn’t tell you the whole truth, either,” he sighed. “Very well. You do deserve to know the whole truth. But it isn’t such an interesting tale as you might believe. From the very beginning, the Children have wanted me among their ranks. I come from a very old bloodline, and so I was good enough to join their clique. But I didn’t want that. The beach has plenty of resources for those who know how to find them. Cats of old blood, cats of new blood, anyone who can survive here has a right to stay. So I turned them down. But they were… relentless. Following me wherever I denned, nagging and nagging me to join them, despite the fact that I’ve always kept to myself, despite the fact that I told them that I didn’t believe in their cause. So when you landed here, it felt like the winds of Fate himself had blown you right into my paws. You were a group to pit against the children, with enough cats to stand up to them and possibly put a stop to their crusade. But as the moons passed I… found myself starting to care about what happened to you all. I started to think of myself as one of you. I didn’t want to use you like I’d originally planned, but by then…well, how could I tell you what I knew? How could I excuse holding it back for so long? It was easier to just… not say anything at all. Not do anything at all.” Tidechaser’s eyes had grown unfocused, but they snapped back to reality in that heartbeat. “And then Currentheart died. It made me realize that holding things back, even when I didn’t think them relevant, still had a cost. A cost I’m tired of paying. It… isn’t easy for me to do this. To be open and honest. But I have to try. I have to change if I want to be part of TurtleClan. And… I do,” he admitted.
Shellstar crouched in silence, digesting his story, parsing through it for any lies or discrepancies. He seemed earnest but Tidechaser had always been… distant. Cold. Mysterious. If any cat would be able to lie like a fox, it would be him. And yet… if she spent her days looking over her shoulder for threats at her back, she couldn’t focus on the greater danger ahead. Shellstar made her decision. “I believe you,” she said. “And I want you to tell me everything you know about how these Children of Salt and Sand go about conducting this crusade of theirs…”
A/N: Sorry guys, no art today, just a lot of plot. My carpel tunnel had a bad flare up this week and I wasn't able to hold a pen.
“It’s going to rain soon.” Tidechaser had been staring at the tiny patches of sky visible between the branches of the dense trees.
“Again?” Currentheart complained, tail high to show he was being lighthearted about it. “As though we haven’t had enough of that this past half-moon.”
Sand had to agree with his former apprentice. In the time since Spindlefleck’s rite of passage, the weather had turned. Dustjump, Brokenmast and Shell had all commented on how shockingly mild leafbare had been, with only a pawful of freezes and no snow whatsoever. Sand couldn’t really comment on that–it was only his second real leafbare–he’d been born during leafbare, but the only one he remembered had been spent first inside his twoleg’s den, and then on the ship with the others before the storm. Tidechaser hadn’t seemed shocked by the weather though, commenting that it had been only slightly milder than normal. He had, however, warned that as they approached Newleaf, the rains would start to pick up, and on that front, the tides seemed eager to deliver. While it might not be cold enough to freeze, there was still a chill in the air, and patrolling in cold rain was no cat’s idea of fun.
“If we move quickly, we might be back at camp before the rain hits,” Sand suggested.
“Yes please!” Currentheart exclaimed, picking up his pace. “We can’t be far from the last scent marker now, but it’s so hard to tell with this weather. Everything just smells like wet dirt.”
“We’re close,” Tidechaser confirmed, taking the lead. Sand let him move ahead without contest. He might be Shell’s second, but Tidechaser had a knack for picking up on the faintest of scents. Besides, if he led, it gave Sand an opportunity to catch up with Currentheart. He matched his pace to the younger tom’s strolling beside him in comfortable silence for a time before speaking. “So,” he started. “I’ve noticed Spindlefleck has moved her nest nearer to yours.” Currentheart stumbled, and Sand let out an amused purr. “So there is something between you two!”
“No!” Currentheart denied. “I mean, maybe… I don’t know. She’s nice, and I like her as a friend but… I’m not really looking for a mate right now, you know? I’ve still got a lot of growing to do before I’m ready to make a decision like that, and so does she.”
“That’s a very mature perspective to take,” Sand meowed. “But I hope she knows that’s how you feel about it.”
“I need to talk to her soon,” Currentheart admitted. “But it’s hard to find the right thing to say. I don’t want to reject her outright, but I don’t want to lead her on, either.”
“You should tell her what you told me,” Sand suggested. “Be upfront. Honest. How she reacts is up to her, and it will probably give you your first real idea of whether or not she’s the kind of cat who would be a good match for you, someday.”
“That’s good advice,” Currentheart purred, pressing his flank against Sand’s. “All these moons later, and you’re still teaching me new things.”
“Only now you’re not required to listen to me,” Sand teased.
Currentheart responded with a playful shove, but before they could continue the conversation, Tidechaser broke in.
“Sand, Currentheart, you should come take a look at this.”
Sand pricked his ears, focusing his attention back on the patrol. Tidechaser sounded cautious, though not afraid. He whisked aside his tail to reveal a pile of prey bones. Sand bent down to sniff at them. There was the faintest scent of cat clinging to the bones, but it didn’t smell like anyone he knew. “Someone has been here recently. Not today, but maybe yesterday or the day before?”
There were a few cats that hunted on and around the area the survivors had marked out–it wasn’t something Shell was particularly concerned about, as the boundaries were more to set limits on where the cats in their group ranged than to keep anyone out, but she did like to stay aware of who was hanging about.
“It’s definitely recent,” Tidechaser agreed, “but that’s not why I called you over. Look at this.” Tidechaser kicked a sodden scrap of fur that Sand hadn’t initially noticed. It was a partially eaten bird, rapidly turning to crowfood.
“Ugh! They didn’t even bury it?” Currentheart meowed, his voice thick with disgust.
“Maybe they had to leave it,” Sand murmured.
“That’s the part that worries me. A catch this big? No cat around these parts would just leave it like this. They’d bring it with them, or bury it if they couldn’t.”
“So why didn’t they?” Currentheart wondered.
“Let’s spread out and look for signs,” Sand suggested. “Maybe they were just spooked by a loud noise, or maybe it was something more. If a threat has moved in here, we need to know about it.”
The three toms slowly worked their way out in different directions from the abandoned prey, combing over every inch of ground. It had rained hard the night before, so any tracks were long gone, but there might be other signs. Before long, Sand came upon a small tree with deep gouges in its thin bark. Sand narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to try and pick up a scent. There was a touch of something strange… but what…?
Sand closed his jaws, swallowing before opening his mouth again to call Tidechaser over. As he did, a thick musky scent slammed the roof of his mouth, nearly choking him with its strength. What was that? Instinct kicked in, sending his mind into overdrive as he tried to match the smell to a creature, or to at least come up with something analogous in his scent-memory, something that would tell him if he should flee or stand his ground. Nothing. It bore no resemblance to fox or dog scent, but it was far too heady to be prey. Uncertainty gave way to fear, and suddenly his mind was telling him to–
“Sand, MOVE!” Tidechaser’s yowl was louder, sharper than he’d ever heard before, but the warning came too late.
The undergrowth trembled, and a beast emerged from the brush, huge and solid and dark, covered with bristling hairs. Everything seemed suddenly vivid to Sand as the world slowed around him in the face of this new, foreign terror. He could see each thick, black hair on the creature, could see the gleam of saliva in its pink maw, opened wide in an enraged squeal to reveal what looked like two long, gleaming fangs on either side of its jaw.
It felt like he should have enough time to get out of the way. He didn’t. He was frozen, forced to watch as the rest of the world trickled by him at a snail’s pace. Sand knew he was directly in its path, knew it was going to gore him with those sharp tusks, knew that he was going to die right here, right now, if he didn’t spring out of the way. Why can’t I move? Why aren’t my muscles responding?
The beast bore down on him while his instincts screamed at him to run, to flee, to hide, all to no avail. Sand stared up into the gaping maw of his own demise, watching death inch closer and closer. The world caught up to Sand’s racing mind and he was tumbling away, pelt skidding across the damp earth. There was a moment of confusion. He was still alive… wasn’t he? Had the beast turned away at the last moment? No, something had definitely hit him, but the blow had come from the side, not from the front. Something had pushed him out of the way at the last second. Someone had… saved him? Realization crashed into Sand with the force of the storm that had slammed their ship up against the rocks all those moons ago, changing their lives forever. Sand shot to his feet, shaking his head to clear the mud from his eyes.
Bright ginger fur against the damp forest floor. Red blood seeping into the mud. No.
Sand was dimly aware of Tidechaser howling with rage, leaping up and on top of the beast that had attacked them, clinging to its back as it snorted with rage. But those things might have been happening in another world for all the difference it made to him. All of his attention was on the figure collapsed in the mud. He had to be okay. He isn’t moving. Sand crossed the distance between them in less than a heartbeat, skidding to a stop beside Currentheart’s side. Blood was spilling out of a deep gash on his side, staining his white patches red, pooling on the ground around him before soaking into the earth. There was so much blood. “No, no no!” This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
Currentheart jerked, coughed, tilted his head. He cracked open a single amber eye, and Sand dropped to his belly beside the young cat who he had watched grow from a spoiled, selfish kit into an ally, a friend, a warrior. “You’re alright,” he managed to choke out. “You’re going to be just fine, Current. We’ll get you back to Dustjump and she’ll fix you up, she’ll heal you like she healed Brokenmast and Foam. You’re alright. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.” Sand knew he was babbling, repeating the same words again and again. It didn’t matter. He had to say it, had to speak the words into reality, make them true.
Sand fell silent as Currentheart drew in a slow, ragged breath. “Hope I… lived up t’… the name…”
Currentheart gave one final, painful wheeze and fell still, his head lolling to the side. Sand wailed. He wailed and wailed, his jaws still open long after his cry had petered out.
The clouds broke open, and the promised rain began to fall.
