Arc Two: Chapter One
(AO3 counterpart here.)
“Listen to that. You can hear the chaos all the way from here.”
Mistface twitched his nose as a noncommittal response. He was walking by the side of a nearly-black tabby molly named Darkpelt through the burgeoning fresh blades of grass growing in for the season. Behind him, a pair of toms were trying to occupy themselves with taking in the sights of the vast valley they lived in, for lack of anything else to do. The one directly behind Mistface was the smallest of their troop – a sleek and skinny dark brown tom with a permanent frown on his face. He was very much dwarfed by the massive white tom beside him, who was making an effort to walk slowly so that he didn’t overtake the rest of the group.
Mistface himself, a handsome blue-grey tom with long fur, swiveled his ears, absentmindedly taking in the distant sounds of yowls and cheers. They were heading for the Clast settlement, and from here he could see the large stone houses that made up oversized dens for the family to live in. This was, by far, the most aggressive part of the Territory to be in; Mistface could already envision cats charging up to him once he arrived and demanding to tussle.
As if he’d heard Mistface’s thoughts, the white tom, Laurelclaw, nervously said, “You don’t think we’ll have to do any fighting, do you?”
Beetlefoot, the little tom, snorted. “That’s all Clast cares about. We likely have to in order to fit in.”
Darkpelt twisted her head and fixed Laurelclaw with her wide-eyed blind stare and a grin. “You’ll have quite a few fans in there before long, I think. They love a big guy.”
Laurelclaw hummed anxiously. “I know I’m supposed to be the muscle, but…”
“Ain’t a problem yet,” Mistface said. He was sharply reminded that his drawl was the strongest of the accents in the group as he spoke. “Darkpelt, you got a game plan? I’m assumin’ you’ve done this before.”
“Obviously!” Darkpelt winked at him and, for the second time since meeting her, he wondered how she knew to do that. “How long do you think I’ve been in spy work for?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Mistface said, with a disdainful sort of feigned politeness. “How long?”
“Nine months of age,” Darkpelt said smugly. Mistface disliked her. “I mean, to be fair, it’s usually simpleton’s work, but this time I’m collaborating with newbies, so I made sure to have a ‘game plan’, as you say. I’m sure this’ll be easy enough, but still-”
“You’re free to share it at any time after you’re done boasting,” Beetlefoot said dryly.
Darkpelt laughed and curled her tail. “Fine, fine. Mistface, Fernstar pretty much laid out what you’re do to – you’re our spokesperson. Anyone asks questions about us, especially when we first arrive, and you’ll be answering them.”
“Got my answers ready for me?” Mistface asked.
“I do, actually.” Darkpelt nodded. Her tone shifted to be more business-like than jolly. “The three main points: one, you’re here for your brother and nothing else. Two, you don’t know anything about the deputy’s supposed plan to leave. Three, we all met up at the Gathering and decided that our interests aligned and we should go to Clast together.” Her tail uncurled and waved in the air. “Aside from that, you’re smart, so I hear. You can come up with stuff pretty quick. All minor details about the rest of us can be half-truths or non-answers.”
Mistface made a noise of acknowledgement.
“As for the rest of us-“ Darkpelt looked back at Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot. “Laurelclaw, you’re here because you’re tired of your life with the Plage. Beetlefoot, you’re doubled up. You’re done with constantly working for the leaders, and you have friends in Mistface and his mother. They sort of inspired you to come along with and check out a new style of living.”
Beetlefoot wrinkled his nose as soon as the word ‘friend’ was said, but he waited until Darkpelt finished talking to respond. “And none of us know anything about Redheart wanting to take cats out of the Territory?”
“You might have heard about it,” Darkpelt replied, “but you don’t believe the rumors. That’s not to say you aren’t curious, though. Laurelclaw and Mistface don’t know anything. You haven’t said a word to them yet, mostly because the idea sounds too silly to be real.”
In a way, Mistface mused, it was. The Clan, made up of multiple large families and hundreds of individuals, lived in a massive collection of areas all forming the Territory. Mountains, hills, the valley, marshes, and even a trail leading to the coastline provided comfortable and beautiful homes for these cats. Prey was abundant, especially because of the land being littered with certain ones that had a white mark on their heads that proved they had been given to the living by StarClan. Even besides that, there were almost no predators to bother them, definitely no neighboring groups large enough to pose even a slight challenge, and so few struggles that the biggest hurdle to one’s happiness was unseasonably cold weather.
What in the name of the stars, then, would cause a cat like Redheart, said by Fernstar herself to be sensible and level-headed, to consider leaving at all? Something petty, perhaps, like a power struggle, or maybe she wasn’t as level-headed as she was said to be and thought life would really be better in the outside world. Mistface couldn’t wrap his mind around it.
“Remember,” Darkpelt continued, bringing Mistface back to the present, “your job – all of you – is to be inconspicuous. Redheart isn’t stupid, and neither is Greyleaf. They’ll know something’s up if you just sit around listening in to conversations or asking strange questions all day.”
That was the other thing. Mistface’s brother, Greyleaf, had mysteriously abandoned his post as the official healer for the leaders and their high deputies – those that served directly beneath the collective heads of the Clan – to join Redheart in the Clast under the pretense of going to see his dying mother to the end of her life. Greyleaf was an anxious wreck with no desire to step a toe out of line and draw attention to himself. The fact that he had lied so brazenly about his family, the thing he held in higher regard than anything else, and went to the rowdiest group in the Territory to work with a cat that was calling for negative attention was baffling to everyone that knew him.
“It’s the job of me and Mistface to get the information we need.” Darkpelt’s usual mischievous smile disappeared for a moment as she turned her head to blindly scan all three of the toms with a very serious look. “And even then, Mistface is to keep near his brother and the common folk in the settlement. Let me do the sneaking around and spying, got it?”
“Right.”
“Got it.”
“Yes.”
“Atta boys.” Darkpelt’s smile returned. “Now, let’s keep our mouths shut from here about this. Maybe some awkward small talk, but nothing beyond that. Spokesperson, walk a little ahead of me.”
Another round of affirmatives, and Mistface picked up the pace until his shoulders were past Darkpelt’s nose. There was no small talk, but the air did become a bit awkward anyway. Laurelclaw looked uneasy and Beetlefoot seemed to be focusing on appearing as calm and indifferent as possible. Mistface was sure he looked confident enough as he was.
Gradually, the sounds of fighting and excited spectators came to drown out the bird chirps and gentle breeze of the flatlands. Beetlefoot’s face creased contemptuously, but Laurelclaw and Darkpelt looked at least a little more interested as an explosion of cheers burst from the houses.
Mistface’s eyes drifted and he caught sight of a grey-brown tom lazing about where the cobblestone was cracked and overtaken by the earth. He was small and dully colored enough to almost completely melt into his surroundings, and he only moved to look up at the approaching party.
“Somethin’ fun happenin’ in there?” Mistface asked casually, once he was close enough that he knew he could be heard over the commotion.
“Always is.” The tom was at least polite enough to sit up and greet them as they paused a few feet away. “You here for the party or the rumors?”
Mistface was aware of Darkpelt’s presence, as if she was staring directly at him to will the correct response into his head. He blinked slowly and replied, “I’m just here for my brother, actually. Heard you got a cat named Greyleaf here now.”
“Ah.” The tom gave an amused scoff. “The boy just showed up, yes. He’s been busy.”
There was a screech and the cheers erupted one again.
Mistface offered the tom a friendly smile, swallowing the distaste for crowds brewing in his chest. “He’ll be real busy after whatever move they just pulled, I reckon.”
“We both will.” The tom stood fully. “I’m a resident healer. Vireoberry. Though everyone’s been going to him over me, if you can believe it.”
“I can,” Mistface said. “He’s quite good.”
“So I’ve seen,” Vireoberry said. “If you want to talk to him before Redheart pulls him away again, now’s the time.”
Mistface thanked him and continued walking, the other three close behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurelclaw beam and wave his tail to Vireoberry as they parted ways.
Two houses had to be passed before they rounded a corner of smooth rock and emerged into a cobblestone clearing, currently crowded with cats. There was just enough room to see a dark grey ticked tabby standing triumphant over a young golden tom. The cats gathered were shouting various things like “Cry uncle, Ryestripe!” and “One more hit!”.
“Is it a good fight?” Darkpelt said in Mistface’s ear.
“Looks like it’s about over,” Mistface said.
The golden tom looked up nervously at the tabby, who grinned down at him, before he flopped fully onto his side and raised a paw. Laughter and jeers rang through the clearing and the crowd backed up unanimously, as did the tabby. The golden tom unsteadily got to his feet and shook his head, which Mistface could now see was bleeding.
Beetlefoot made a noise of disgust. “Savages.”
“Ain’t our place to judge how they spend their time,” Mistface said over his shoulder, flicking his enormously fluffy tail. “Let’s find Greyleaf.”
The crowd began to disperse, with a few cats walking up to the tabby to shower her with compliments (to which she seemed very receptive). Mistface scanned the clearing for his brother, eyes narrowed a little. He watched a cluster of cats suddenly part to allow a tall, elegant red-brown molly through. He recognized the molly as the one that he had seen talking to his brother once at a Coterie gathering for the smaller groups within the Clan. His eyes narrowed further.
The golden tom caught sight of the molly and immediately scrambled to his feet, bowing his head repeatedly and scattering blood on the ground.
“Easy, Ryestripe,” the molly said, and even at a normal volume, her voice seemed to drown out all other sound with its clear, commanding tone. “Just sit down.”
Ryestripe complied, grinning weakly. “Heh, did you see? I nearly got her.”
“I saw.” The molly didn’t quite smile, but her hard face softened a little. “You’ve been doing well for yourself. Don’t overdo it when you were just patched up, though, alright?”
“Don’t bother making him promise,” the tabby said. “He won’t keep it.”
“Neither will you,” Ryestripe shot back.
“I’m not the one who got beat up!”
“Do you have any injuries anyway?”
Mistface perked his ears and turned his head. A grey tabby, just as fluffy as him, was weaving around cats to join the two mollies and Ryestripe. His voice was having a much harder time making itself heard over the rambling around him.
“’Course not, Greyleaf!” The grey molly pressed a front paw to her chest, jokingly offended. “What do you take me for?”
“A moron?” Ryestripe offered.
The grey molly rounded on him, about to pounce, but the red-brown molly quickly stepped between them with a stern look to the victor of the fight. Greyleaf’s eyes flickered skyward for just a moment before he approached Ryestripe and started examining his wounds.
“Now’s our chance,” Darkpelt whispered to Mistface. “Go see him, we’ll be a little behind.”
Mistface straightened up and strolled as innocuously as he could towards his brother.
The red-brown molly saw him first. Before he could say anything, she moved to greet him.
“You’re new,” she said, in that regal-sounding voice. “Welcome to the Clast.”
“A merry afternoon to you,” Mistface said, mostly to be polite.
At his voice, Greyleaf’s head jerked up. He caught sight of Mistface and his eyes widened.
“Thought you might be here, brother.” Mistface offered a winning smile to the molly, then a more genuine one to Greyleaf. “Didn’t have the decency to sent Beetlefoot to tell us?”
“I w- well-“ Greyleaf shuffled his feet, looking bewildered and anxious. “I was going to, things just got busy…”
“I sent for him to help us here,” the red-brown molly said. “I apologize for that. I should have had the decency to alert you and your mother.”
“Mm.” Mistface regarded her now with a slightly tilted head. “I assume you’re the one in charge?”
The molly nodded once. “My name is Redheart. I’m the deputy.”
“Your brother has all sorts of connections, doesn’t he?” Darkpelt said suddenly. Mistface looked back to see her strutting up with Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot hurrying behind her. “Bit of a downgrade from working for the leaders, though.”
Greyface blinked. “Beetlefoot?”
Beetlefoot jerked his head in acknowledgement.
“Nice to see you again,” Laurelclaw said in a very clear attempt to sound friendly that came off as awkward. “I don’t know if you remember me, we met at that Coterie-“
“Oh!” Greyleaf coughed, visibly wracking his brain for the memory. “Right, uh, Laurel… Laurel…”
“-claw,” Laurelclaw finished.
“Right, sorry.” Greyleaf cleared his throat. His eyes drifted to Darkpelt. “And you are…”
“A bored warrior looking for some fun,” she said, grinning. “Darkpelt.”
“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Redheart said, dipping her head respectfully to these cats of inferior status as if they were high deputies. “Are you all companions?”
“Just for a bit,” Mistface said. “We met at a Gatherin’ and decided to come here together.”
“He wouldn’t shut up about you,” Darkpelt said to Greyleaf, cheekily twitching her whiskers. “I hope you’re as good of a healer as he said you are.”
“He is.” Mistface glanced back at her, eye narrowed, though his tone was light. “Might serve you well if you decide to join the chaos here.”
Darkpelt laughed. “Good luck finding anyone to fight me.”
“I’m sure there will be at least one.” Redheart’s eyes crinkled a little – not quite enough for a smile to follow, but enough to give off an easy, comfortable air. “You’re all welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“Redheart!” someone shouted, their voice echoing from inside a house. “Olivepaw’s acting up again!”
“Coming,” Redheart called, and with a final nod to everyone, she walked off. Somehow, she managed to move as quickly as a trot without hurrying.
Greyleaf watched her go, inhaled deeply, and huffed out a breath, his fur smoothing down as he did. He looked back at Mistface. “What about Mama?”
“She’s nearby,” Mistface replied. “Turns out the Vultures’re restin’ up with one of theirs havin’ kits, so they were happy to take her in and keep her away from this whole…”
“Yeah.” Greyleaf gave a blatantly fake smile. “Well, I’ll have to visit her. You’ll show me where to go?”
“We can go tomorrow.” Mistface’s smile was still real. “Once we’re settled.”
“Your mother’s a sweetheart,” Darkpelt said. “She came with us.”
“We took our time,” Mistface said, before Greyleaf could protest forcing their mother to travel. “She’s doin’ well. Happy to rest, of course, but…”
“Right,” Greyleaf murmured, seemingly to himself. “Right.” His voice raised again. “Well, uh, you guys are free to wander around and check out the place. Uh, Darkpelt, do you need assistance, or-?”
“Laurelclaw’s got me,” Darkpelt said cheerily. She turned her head a little towards Laurelclaw - but, Mistface noted, not quite at him like she had before. “Come on, let’s see what they’ve got. Beetlefoot?”
“I’ll walk around myself,” Beetlefoot said shortly.
“Alright!” Darkpelt tapped Laurelclaw’s chest with her tail. He jumped and hurried to walk by her side, his own tail just touching hers as he pretended to need to give her directions. Beetlefoot nodded again to Greyleaf and started off the opposite way.
Greyleaf cleared his throat, “Well, I, uh, I better get to work on Ryestripe here- Uh, do you just want to hang out while I do?”
Mistface stepped close enough to gently flick his brother’s nose with his tail. “Wouldn’t want to do anything else.”