Prologue/MOON 0
Among the other 4 clans, Lushclan was the most thriving.
There lived an abundance of cats, all strong and with bountiful prey to eat, backed up by the luscious ever-expanding territory, the largest of the clans. Fawnstar knew that she was blessed by Starclan, although a little ambitious with her power, she raided homes for territory, hunted across borders for sport, and boasted her accomplishments to the other clans at every gathering. No one dared to stand up to her for her greatness.
The leaders of the neighboring clans warned Fawnstar that her pride would cause her clan’s eventual downfall. But Fawnstar was not afraid - as long as the stars were bright, nothing could destroy her clan.
———
The stars were burning on the night of the Lushclan fire.
This catastrophic fire, such that no cat had ever seen, destroyed nearly half of the territory, the entire camp, and most of the population. Fawnstar made the decision to leave into a small grove, with what remains of Lushclan.
There was no lightning storm nor were Twolegs or ferocious rogues lingering nearby. But even with those odd factors set in stone, it was only set ablaze in The Lush, and no other land was affected by the tragedy. Clearly, it was no accident.
What or who could have caused such a disaster?
———
That question rang in Fawnstar’s ears. Even more now while she was standing in the layers of ash and dirt, looking onward to the aftermath of the inferno. It used to be so majestic and green and beautiful, and now, it’s gone. Just like that.
Everywhere her yellow-green eyes looked, hoping for a relieving sign that there was still blooming life to be found, it was ashes that lied everywhere. Her paws quivered with each step as they touched the remains of her flourishing home beneath her, breathing in it, looking at it, mourning it. Her mouth hung slightly agape as she scanned the area, fur bristled, disbelief of the events that took place mere days ago. Even after, the whole world felt dizzy to her, unreal.
In the silent night, hues of red and orange burst through the dark, harsher than sun and angrier than leaf-fall. It covered the green land, carried by the blowing winds and traveling to other parts of the territory. And once it finished consuming everything in its path, it vanished, leaving all life blackened and soulless. It ate it all like a ravenous, uncontrollable beast.
It was not just Fawnstar’s home and territory that was taken away. Her family and friends alike, many that she knew growing up—young, old, wise, dull, those who had so many more moons to live, to experience the bountiful things clan life had to offer—experienced death. Their charred, seething bodies, captured in their last moments of fear and horror, were left engraved in Fawnstar’s head, the only image she can remember them by. The cats that they could find were buried, as tradition, so that they would have a chance to join The Lush and help protect their land. Even though the matter of it had no importance now, it was what all those deceased cats would have wanted after death. It means more to Fawnstar that, after the turmoil that caused their death, that their bodies are given the opportunity to decay in the earth and become part of The Lush, just as all their ancestors before them have done so.
Former population - 63
Found and buried - 49
Identified - 33
Fawnstar shut her eyes tightly, fighting back tears, desperate to envision her lively clan one last time. The green became a blur, and pierced out with blackened holes obscuring her imagination. She sobbed as she bitterly realized she could no longer remember the faces of those who were dear. Who she so needed to remember, and who she so needed to rest her head on at a critical time like this. But no one was there to hold her slumping body up and give her the comforting words she longed for.
After all the tears dripped off her face, she was able to stand back up properly. Before she could recollect herself, a sharp voice was spoken nearby that made her fur bristle.
———
“Do you reckon that these are graves?” Fawnstar crouched down and hid behind a fallen tree, burnt and covered in ash. She tried to make out where the voice was speaking from. “I mean, I’m not trying to sound morbid, but a cat certainly dug around here burying stuff.”
Another joined in. “Quit playing in the dirt!” The voice was more raspy and youngish than the former. “We’re standing in a massive gravesite already! Now quit all your stallin’ and start looking!”
“But doesn’t that mean that there are Lushclan cats alive?”
“Maybe. Unless they just dug their own graves.”
Fawnstar carefully peeked her head above the log. There, she could make out who those voices were. A patrol of four cats? Her eyes widened upon recognizing the cats lurking around. They’re from Veiledclan! She knew from a first glance upon one of the cats, the one who was speaking just now. It was the marbled brown and white she-cat, with copper eyes that burned like fire, a cause for her prominent burn scar across her belly that made the white fur around it look like fuzz—Canarysong, the Veiledclan healer. She’s met her before, a peculiar cat she is with even more peculiar ways she treats her patients. Fawnstar would recognize her escorts as well. Blackshiver, the black sokoke tabby who spoke before Canarysong, stood out as the biggest cat in the patrol, but Fawnstar knew him as one of the younger, scrappier warriors. Alongside him were Pebbleheart, the leaner gray speckled tom with far more experience as a warrior, most evident by the scar across one of his cyan eyes. And similarly, there was Seedspots, a brown and ginger tortie she-cat with the same level of experience as Pebbleheart had, only instead of scarring, it was her stature, almost as towering as the younger warrior.
What could a Vieledclan patrol be doing out here? Fawnstar narrowed her eyes, remaining hidden and lowering her head whenever they decided to glance at her direction. She continued to listen attentively to their back-to-back conversation.
“Can any of ya’ll smell anything?” Pebbleheart asked the group. Blackshiver followed through and sniffed the ground to catch a scent, his efforts ended up with him inhaling specks of ash and sneezing loudly, nearly falling backwards. It made Fawnstar flinch back. “No.” Blackshiver sniffled. “The cinders obscured everything.”
The whole time as they discussed searching the area—which began to make her ears sore—Fawnstar gave up on eavesdropping and started questioning why of all the reasons in the world they would come here. There was absolutely nothing to gain from The Lush in its current state. Destroyed territory means no borders to abide to, yes. But destroyed territory cannot give rich resources and fresh prey, the two most vital things a cat needs to survive. It pains Fawnstar to admit it herself, but The Lush now was as useful as rotten crowfood. And yet, the Veiledclan cats were looking for something. The seriousness of their bickering proved that it was not mild curiosity, it was a mission. The question of if Veiledclan cats really came to get first dibs on the ashy land remained afloat in the cream cat’s head, but another possibly, one that felt more plausible to the cat, came to mind. Of course. Fawnstar became overwhelmed with shame. They didn’t come to take unwanted territory for themself. They want to laugh at me for failing my clan. So much for being ‘great’—I can never show up to another gathering ever again!
She watched the patrol attempt to sniff around some more. Fawnstar thought she remained undetected from where she was, until the warrior Seedspots looked her way, and finally noticed what long brown ears and yellow-green eyes were staring at her all this time. But none more ornate than her forehead star, a mark of Starclan’s gift.
“I see her!” The tortie alerted the others with a smile. “Fawnstar! She’s alive!”
Don’t look at me! Fawnstar turned tails and fled without saying a word to them. Don’t even talk to me! I wasn’t here! She needed to leave. She didn’t want another clan of strong cats to see the state she was in, like an eagle who’s lost its great wings, she felt ashamed to be the leader of a shriveled clan.
Oh, Starclan, why have I been forsaken this way? She sobbed internally. But of course, Fawnstar couldn’t show weakness now, she was nearing the current Lushclan camp.
———
She could feel the relief come to her paws after treading through dirt and rock, and finally soaking into fresh grass. The last intact territory of The Lush, where the winds did not blow, and there was a chilling calmness to the environment. Though it flourished all around and tucked in every corner, one could not hear animals chitter nor the leaves glide nor the twigs snap. The authenticity was real, you could feel it all over, but the silence that creeped gave it a sense of false beauty. An illusion of paradise. Manifesting itself after painstaking events in the mind’s last resort of finding hope for survival. The familiarity helped ease her way through, but the quiet made the familiarness unfriendly.
The last surviving Lushclan cats hid away in a grotto, enclosed with rocks and moss. No more could they proudly tread through the forest with their noses in the air, basking in glory. Like lizards, they escape the burning light and venture into a new dark age. Now, she must return to it the same. As the leader of the clan—if she could even call it a clan anymore—she was inclined to hide her inner crumbling spirit and shield it with a harder exterior. The devotion to building up her clan again was there. But Fawnstar was terrified. A deer with no forest is a deer meant to die.
Former population - 63
Current population - 7
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