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Moon 10

Leaf bare

First Frost Festival

“Are you sure, you’re alright staying behind for the gathering?” Wolfstar asked as she loaded another basket with charms.

“Someone has too.” Shadowdive responded gruffly.

She paused and glanced over the camp, Burnpaw was bundling rosemary with Lynxpaw. Meanwhile, Snowspeckle was playing moss ball with her kits, getting them tired before breaking the news they’ll be gone all day. No one was near the pair.

“I didn’t expect you to volunteer. I figured Burnpaw would stay back since he hasn’t been to a gathering since joining.” She admitted, not missing his hackles raise just a hair as she spoke.

“Makes more sense for me to stay back and guard the camp. Lynxpaw is the cleric, Snow is the deputy, and Burnpaw is helping cook.” He paused for a moment and lifted his still sprained paw. “Not much use on three legs anyways.”

Normally, she would accept that, Shadowdive had always been pragmatic even when it meant he got the short end of the stick. But it just doesn’t sit right with her this time.

“I guess I just wish you could come as well.” She sighed, ears flicking a little as a cold wind blew through the camp.

“It’ll be fine.” He said dismissively, busying himself with his leg wrap.

“Oh I’m not worried about you.” She laughed, but cut herself off quickly. “What I mean-heh is I’m not worried about the camp in your care. Heh.”

His back was to her so she couldn’t get a good read on him. Regardless, he didn’t respond.

Wolfstar wished she could just ask him why he seemed so off, but she wasn’t entirely sure it was him who was acting different. Her dreams were still plaguing her with visions of mismatched eyes, she wondered if the restless sleep was changing her.

As she finished with the baskets and he staked another torch beside the nursery den entrance, the winds died down. The clan had been working on torches for most of leaf fall and now with leaf bare finally arriving they’d planted multiple unlit torches in the sand around camp to help maintain warmth and deter snow building up.

She brushed her side against Shadowdive’s as she walked by to check on Burnpaw, the dark tom pulled back quickly. Not missing a step she tried to not look upset as she approached the camp keeper.

“Oh, hey Wolfstar.” The red tom greeted her, cinching a knot in the twine as he did. “This is the last one and we should be ready.”

“Good, all our charms are loaded up and Oakclan said we didn’t need to bring anything aside from the that and rosemary.” She smiled, looking over the bundles.

“I think Lynxpaw was gonna bring some black salt as well for some more spiritual protection.”

“Oh? How’d you make black salt?” She asked the young cleric as she returned from her den. “Normally clerics use coltsfoot and ash.”

“Similar process, but since salt is a powerful tool both spiritually and in our food, I figured I could kinda combine it and see how the other clerics like it.” Lynxpaw opened the jar she was carrying to show her. “I mixed ground up herbs like sage and thyme and gently toasted them in a dry pot over the fire. When it cooled I added in the salt and some ash. It’s a nice color and should contain all the properties of its ingredients.”

“Wow very impressive.” Wolfstar gave the mixture a sniff. “Mousefoot will be impressed.”

“I hope so!”

Squealing from across the camp caught their attention.

“Uh oh, looks like Snowspeckle broke the news to them.” Burnpaw murmured, settling into a loaf.

Wolfstar sat beside him and watched, pressing her side against his to make up for the chilly morning. Otterkit was crying, clinging to his mother’s leg, while Ripplekit just looked angry. Poor Snowspeckle tried to ease the black kit’s grip but he clung tighter.

“Should we help her?” Lynxpaw asked, settling on Wolfstar’s other side.

“Fuck that.” The leader laughed. “I might actually break and bring them with us.”

“I mean, is it against the rules?”

“Lynxpaw we are not bringing the kits to the festival.” Wolfstar said firmly.

“I’m just saying it’s not like it’s the worst thing in the world.”

“She’s got a point.” Burnpaw added, though his tone was playful.

“This is why we’re letting Snowspeckle handle this. You two are weak and so am I.” She nipped Lynxpaw’s ear tuft gently.

Eventually, Snowspeckle got untangled from her kits and passed them over to Shadowdive. The large warrior was prepared though and had a new moss ball toy ready for them, distracting the pair so Snowspeckle could trot over to the lounging group.

“Let’s go before they remember why they’re upset.” She hurriedly grabbed a basket.

The walk to the gathering place was chilly, the patrol took the long way to avoid swimming, the baskets not water proofed let alone their coats.

The festival was still setting up as the group arrived, cats lighting torches around the clearing to drive off the cold. The ground was rock solid with frost and many of the plants were dead and wilting. No snow yet, but Wolfstar suspected it would come before the end of the moon.

“Oh our friends from Saltclan have arrived!” Archstar called out as they caught sight of the group.

Wolfstar nodded to them politely before addressing her clan.

“Burnpaw, go help set up with the other cooks. Lynxpaw, you and Snowspeckle start hanging the charms around the edge of camp, then go show the other clerics your salt.”

Burnpaw seemed nervous to be present, but didn’t argue as he left to join other camp keepers.

Glancing around the camp it seemed they were the last clan to arrive, Oakclan’s artisans organizing various groups and activities. With everyone buzzing about, Wolfstar let herself be waved over by Archstar.

“Come join us Wolfstar, we’re discussing the new leaf festival.” They offered her a spot next to them on the deputy rocks. On their other side sat Rookstar, the orange leader looking as laid back as always. Across from the three stood Jaggedstar, the only cat not sitting or lying.

Wolfstar bowed her head briefly to each leader, but didn’t chime in. She settled into a loaf and waited for the conversation to begin again.

“As you know typically the first day of new leaf is celebrated by all the clans, but no one has ever really hosted.” Rookstar began.

“Though Oakclan does seem to love taking charge of it as if they were the hosts.” Jaggedstar cut in quickly.

“It only makes sense given my clan’s prosperity and gift of artisans.” Archstar said slyly, a cheeky grin on their face. “But that’s why I’m suggesting that Saltclan host the festival going forward.”

“You do?” Wolfstar asked.

“You haven’t even thought to discuss it with them?” Jaggedstar scoffed.

“We’re discussing it now aren’t we?”

“I don’t see an issue with it.” Rookstar said.

“We’d be honored to host, however I’m not sure how effective it would be given our current size, but we’d be happy to organize something suitable.” Wolfstar rushed out, hoping to get her opinion out before more arguments arouse. “If every clan finds this agreeable of course.”

She glanced at Jaggedstar for a moment, but the dark molly was quiet and stone faced, finally settling into a loaf.

“Well then, I’ll let my artisan know and we’ll begin planning.” She chirped, a little surprised the issue was resolved so quickly.

“Feel free to lean on Oakclan for this, we have plenty of resources and artisans to spare. Plus plenty of experience.” Archstar purred.

The conversation devolved into the silvery leader trying to give advice on how they’d prepare for the new leaf holiday. Wolfstar tried to politely engage, while still minimizing the pushy clan’s involvement. It continued on like that until mid morning when Jaggedstar finally rose to speak.

“If you two would excuse us, I need to speak with Wolfstar for a moment.” She huffed out, eyeing Archstar who gave her a placating smile.

Rookstar, for his part, had drifted off and began snoozing during all the chatter.

“Oh a little family reunion?” Archstar teased, tail flicking as Wolfstar stood to follow her mother.

“Hardly,” Jaggedstar hissed, sending a few cats scurrying out of her way. “We need to discuss a border issue.”

“Well don’t spend all of Wolfstar’s time discussing work matters, this is her first leaf bare festival.” They chirped, though it sounded much more snide than their other quips.

“Hmm isn’t your first frost holiday as well?” Wolfstar asked, eyes sharp on them. Archstar’s smile widened, like this was fun for them, but their tail flick betrayed themself.

They were bested.

The mother daughter pair trotted off to the other side of the clearing. Near where some apprentices were practicing their skits for the feast.

“You pissed them off.” Jaggedstar had a wide, toothy grin as she turned to face her. “I’m almost mad I wasn’t the one to put that look on their arrogant face.”

“You wanted to discuss the border?” Wolfstar asked, making her face neutral to hide her nerves. “I’m assuming you mean the abandoned nest?”

“What? No I lied to get us away from Archstar.” She shocked her coat out as a chilly drizzle began. “The nest is our territory and we’ll continue to guard it as such.”

“And we’ll continue to reclaim our territory.”

“There, now we’ve discussed it.” Jaggedstar said, seemingly pleased.

“If you wanted to get away from Archstar you could’ve just left, no need to drag me into this.” She sighed, tucking herself under some brush to avoid the rain, making room for the larger cat.

“They’re setting you up.” The larger cat hissed.

“Look I know they’re trying to take over planning the festival. I’m not gonna let them, my clan will host and that’ll be that.”

“No it won’t. Don’t you see? They’re being pushy to make you defensive, then you’ll try to host the festival all on your own right after leaf bare when your clan is already struggling. Then when the festival goes poorly because you ran out of time or supplies they get to say that you don’t deserve to host and try to claim it for themselves.”

“That’s a stretch.” Wolfstar scoffed. “I’d say Archstar is more arrogant than conniving.”

“Don’t underestimate them.” She hissed.

Like you underestimated me? Wolfstar didn’t say it, but they could both feel it hang in the air.

“So either I let them take over planning and they get to gloat or I do all the planning, fail and then they gloat?”

“Just be careful how you move with them, you don’t know them like I do.” Jaggedstar said, voice rumbling like thunder. “Don’t be afraid to delegate tasks to other clans.”

The pair sat in silence before Wolfstar finally said.

“What happened to not giving me anything for free?” She chuckled.

“I’m not helping you, I’m hurting Oakclan, there’s a difference!” The dark molly growled, tail thrashing.

Wolfstar barked out a laugh, slowly her mother’s tension lessened and she huffed a laugh too.

“Just, be reasonable with what you do give to the other clans.” She coughed to cover up her smirk. “Not too much but not too little.”

“Thank you for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

The pair stood awkwardly as they watched the clans finish setting up, the little drizzle of rain slowing down to a drip.

“I’m gonna go play some Paw n Prey, if you wanna join me.” Wolfstar gestured to the Duskclan elders setting up the three cups for the game.

“Perhaps later.” Jaggedstar said dismissively, eyes sharp as she looked over the clearing. “I’m going to go find Thornstrike. I don’t see him.”

Wolfstar nodded at the older cat, her steps slow as she walked away, hoping she’d change her mind. Finally as she got a few tail lengths away, her pace quickened. By the time she reached the trio of elders, a small crowd had gather, a diverse mix of age and clan origin.

She sat between an Oakclan tom and Honeyclan gib, waiting for her turn.

“Wolfpaw?” A voice to her left called out, she wanted to turn on instinct but kept her gaze locked forward.

“She’s Wolfstar, you idiot don’t be rude.” An older voice hissed and she heard a firm thump, finally her curiosity made her turn to look.

Sparkpaw sat, her large figure hunched over, rubbing her ear after the harsh smack her mentor gave her. Stoatfang sat beside her, a fierce image despite her small frame, she glared at the apprentice before flicking an ear and turning to the group, most of which watching openly.

“Wolfstar.” The older warrior nodded at her.

“Stoatfang.” She nodded back, awkwardly glancing around as she tried to think of what to say.

Thankfully the elders running the game announced they were taking bets, they made a show of placing the roasted beech but under one cup and began to shuffle the trio. Wolfstar had nothing to bet, but bragging rights were still on the table and she was glad for the distraction.

Inkpath waited until everyone either made their claim or placed a bet before revealing the cups one by one. Wolfstar, like many, had picked the left most cup, which unfortunately came up empty. Grumbles broke out amongst the group, but no one strayed, eager for the next game.

Several rounds went by, Wolfstar winning several and enjoying a delicious beech nut for her efforts. A few cats mumbled accusations of cheating under their breathes, but she ignored them. Sparkpaw after the third round wandered off, though her mentor was too engulf in the games to notice.

It was nearly sun high when the games paused, everyone yawning and feeling the need to rest. Wolfstar felt a prickle of panic set in, she was exhausted and could use the nap, but she worried about having a nightmare around so many cats. Even her own clan didn’t know the extent of her restless sleep.

As cats began hunkering down, sleeping near the warm fires or under bushes as pairs or trios, Wolfstar made her rounds to check on her clan mates. Burnpaw was tending the soup, adding in salt and toasted sage. Snowspeckle was speaking with some artisans, already settled down to rest. And Lynxpaw was tucked near Mousefoot and Rosedrift, eyes wide and head nodding.

Everyone seemed busy, perhaps she could sneak off to a spot outside of the clearing to nap. The brisk winds and barely there drizzle made the idea less than appealing, even the idea of trudging all the way back to camp for rest seemed better.

“Hey, uh hey Wolfstar,” Burnpaw interrupted her internal debate. “I saved a spot for you to rest.”

She glanced back not realizing she’d walked right by him in her contemplation. An older tom had taken over stirring, likely to relieve him for a nap, well deserved given how most of the other cooks had ditched him for games and socializing.

“Here it’s towards the edge over here.” He waved her over with his tail.

She trailed behind him, letting him lead her past the edge of the clearing into the thick woods. Just past the tree line there was a shallow dip in the dead grass and an evergreen bush, making a modest den between them. He stood beside the entrance as she inspected it, there were several small pelts already laid down and an unlit torch sat a few tail lengths in front of the entrance.

“Thank you.” She gave him a fond lick, earnest in her gratitude. It was perfect, far enough away, but well sheltered from the cold and lined with pelts for added heat. Even the ground around the torch was clawed away so only dirt and rocks encircled it. “You put a lot of effort here. I appreciate it.”

The red tom ducked his head to the side, dodging her praise and licks. His paws crunched the ground under him as he danced in place nervously.

“Well I know you’ve been having a hard time sleeping the past couple moons so I figured you’d want a more secluded spot to nap.” He mumbled. “In case you have a bad dream.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, a chill sweeping up her spine.

“Huh?” He looked at her now, confusion pushing his nervousness back.

“How do you know I don’t sleep well? Or that I have nightmares?” She asked, eyes narrowed.

“Oh I don’t know, it’s just obvious I guess.” He shrugged.

“Do you hear me at night?”

“What? No never.”

“Do I seem more tired or upset?”

“Not really. I mean you seem tired but not like lethargic.”

“Then how do you know?” She wanted to hiss, feeing exposed and surprised.

“I don’t know.” He seemed helpless to explain himself, but her hackles raising seemed to give him the words. “I just know when someone isn’t sleeping well or if they have good or bad dreams. I just wake up and know ‘oh Wolfstar had a nightmare’ or ‘Lynxpaw slept deeply’. You know?”

“Have you always been able to tell someone’s sleep and dreams just like that?” She asked, feeling slightly better she wasn’t the only one.

“Yeah, when I lived in the apprentice den in Duskclan I could even guess what someone dreamt of. Like hunting or drowning.” He shrugged.

“Did Darkfold know?”

“Yeah but she told me to stop telling others, that it’s invasive and rude. So I try not to, but I can’t help it.” He sighed, like he was disappointed in himself. “She thought I’d grow out of it, like kits do when they sometimes see Starclan cats, I never told her I didn’t.”

That’s why he never said anything. She thought. Makes me wonder what Darkfold was hiding that she didn’t want him poking around.

Wolfstar had heard of cats who could walk dreams, but she’d always thought those cats would be clerics or at least spiritual. Burnpaw didn’t seem like the type, but maybe she should pay him more attention.

“Have you told anyone about my nightmares?” She asked, letting out a deep sigh and closing her eyes. Trying to will her heartbeat down.

“No, I didn’t wanna overstep.” He mumbled again, shifting awkwardly again.

“It’s alright. I didn’t know you knew, thank you for making me this nest.” She opened her eyes again and tried to smile. “Would you like to share tongues for a bit and rest?”

He smiled brightly, eyes squinting.

“Really? You’re ok if I stay?”

“Of course, you found the den you should be allowed to sleep here too.” She entered the brush, crouching low. She definitely preferred her den to the brushy walls, the smooth rock and solid trunk draped with lichen was spacious but easy to heat. But the low height was worth the privacy, she decided as she draped a pelt over herself.

Burnpaw lit the torch before he followed behind her, settling close so they could groom each other. She pushed her blanket back so he could work on her pelt as well.

They didn’t speak much as they groomed, working out tangles and smoothing wind blown fur. She felt herself calming down enough to actually rest, at one point she laid her chin on his paws, nearly asleep. His purrs quieted as he pulled the pelt over her again, staying sat up to watch the torch from their nest.

Wolfstar’s sleep is fitful and short, she’s almost bored with how predictable the sequence is. She’s in the dark, the acrid smell hits her, then the sounds overwhelm her ears, then she sees the odd eyes. If she wasn’t so gripped with involuntary fear she’d yawn. But the terror has an unshakeable hold on her like always and she’s panting and fighting to breathe.

“Shhhhh it’s okay, it’s me. Just breathe.” A squeaky voice purred in her ear. She went to swat at it but her paws felt like they were filled with sand, a nose pressed into her cheek fur. “You’re safe, breathe in and out.”

Slowly, she blinked, taking breathes in and out with him. Her mind faded into consciousness again and she pressed back against Burnpaw, their ribs pressed together.

The torch outside had dwindled a little, not much time had passed, most of the festival would still be napping or lazing about. She stared at the fire and breathed in her friend’s scent.

“Sorry.” Her voice was hoarse, had she been shouting?

“It’s ok.” He said quickly, pulling back slightly.

She sighed and rested her chin on her paws, staring out into the cold.

“Do you always dream about red and green eyes?” He asked, her head popped up.

“You saw it too?”

“Yeah.”

“What else did you see? I have the same nightmare over and over, maybe you saw something I missed.”

“Well it was dark and strange smelling, kinda reminded me of a monster. There was a lot of clanking and screaming from other cats.”

She fell back down with a sigh.

“Yeah that’s what I got too.”

The pair sat in silence for a while, until Wolfstar decided to get up and return to the festival. Together they bundled up the pelts and snuffed out the torch. As they reached the clearing she stopped him before he could rejoin the camp keepers.

“Thank you for resting with me, I really appreciate it.” She bumped her head against his, he tried to duck away but she circled around and bumped him anyways. They giggled for a moment before his face got serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone else is dreaming about red and green eyes.” He twisted his head around, eyes searching.

“Wait what? Who?”

“I don’t know, I can’t tell there’s too many cats.” He turned each way, as if it would help him ascertain who it was.

Burnpaw wandered around, looking for sleeping cats, they stumbled across many pairs and trios of cats sleeping.

“It’s no use.” He growled, surprising her with his intensity. “I can’t find it.”

“It’s alright, thank you for trying.” She couldn’t help the disappointment in her voice.

The rest of the festival was fun, she met up with her brother Greyclaw and played Red Fall for fish jerky. She spoke with Archstar again and told him she’d speak with his head artisan about what help Oakclan would contribute. The silver leader surprisingly gave in without a fight, just a grin on their face.

The skits put on my Oakclan’s apprentices was nice, telling the exaggerated story of the first lead Oakstar and his life before earning his nine lives. They had Tanglerfur play the role of Oakstar’s father, Oak, and Tawnyclaw played his mother, Moth. Otherwise the entire cast was apprentices.

Mousefoot and Lynxpaw spent most of the festival together, practicing clerical duties until finally Wolfstar had enough and dragged the apprentice away to gamble with her. They spent the evening playing Paw and Prey until the evening feast of roasted boar and stewed bird was served. Burnpaw joined them after serving his clan.

It was very late evening when the clan finally gathered their things and returned to camp. The kits already asleep and Shadowdive standing guard to greet them as they arrived.

Leaf bare was in full swing when Wolfstar departs for the western most border. The half bridge and two leg place slowly coming into view as she crossed the rocky coast. Most of the sand is dark and coarse, with nearly black jagged rocks jutting out closer and closer together as she goes.

She stays well away from the waves, wishing she had better cover from the blistering winds, it tears through her pelt like claws. The cold keeps the sand wetter than normal and frosty too, she can feel herself sink into the sand each step with a loud crunch. The sound makes her flinch, grateful she isn’t hunting.

The tide pools Shadowdive likes to frequent makes her straddle the rocky cliffs, darting amongst the slick rocks carefully. It was here where Shadowdive sprained his paw, scavenging in the pools on an early leaf fall morning, frost making the rocks slick and dangerous. He was still nursing the injury, keeping weight off of it and taking his herbs like he was told, though Wolfstar suspects he’s a reluctant patient.

His injury has put them in a small bind, luckily Snowspeckle is able to hunt and work in his place while he kit sat for her. Still, without the powerhouse of a tom, the clan was eating more food than they could catch. Burnpaw and Snowspeckle hadn’t really been able to prep a lot of meat ahead of the freeze and what little they had stored was already being used to compensate.

Wolfstar and Snowspeckle were the last to eat, feeding the kits first, then the keeper, then cleric, then the reluctant Shadowdive, then themselves. It reminded her of the early days of Saltclan, hunger driving her forward, it gave her an edge to hone in and focus on her tasks.

For this morning, however, her only task was marking the western most border. Rarely did they have issues with loners over stepping, this area of the coast not desirable for most wanderers, but it was good to keep up the boundary. So once every other day, a solo patrol would head out, mark then return to camp for another assignment.

The white molly approached the large wall of rocks and edge of the half bridge. Truly a cat had to be lost or desperate to try and cross here, the rocks were difficult to scale even in warm seasons let alone with frost and snow. Even at low tide the waters covered up the underside to the half bridge, allowing the water to meet the rocky cliffs the two leg nest sat atop of.

The rocks and water stayed locked together for many tail lengths until finally on the other side, barely visible from where she stood, there was a break and the sandy coast was present again. No cat was swimming that distance without significant risk, same with the rocky slope, they had to come too close to the two leg nest and Honeyclan’s border to make the climb.

Wolfstar let her mind go blank as she marked a few spots.

Until the sound of paws steps traipsing around just above her broke her out of her musings.

She whirled around, hackles up as she kept her eyes on the tops of the rocks. A feline face finally peeked over the edge, mottled calico with bright eyes that locked on Wolfstar. The cat smiled widely and climbed closer to the edge, nearly falling over.

“Stop! You’re about to enter Saltclan’s territory, you must turn back now!” She called out, fur fluffed up and claws out.

“I know!” The cat called out, still smiling.

“Stop!” She snarled again, wishing she could pin the cat to the spot with her glare.

Thankfully the calico slows down and waits, eyes wide and watching.

“State your business.” She ordered.

“I’m here to join your clan!” The cat answered, now restarting their movements and making their way down.

“Um ok, uh why? Where do you come from and how did you know about us?” Wolfstar stumbled over her words effectively off balance. She’d never met a loner who was so…eager to join the clans.

“I used to live with my housefolk, but I left because I heard stories about the clans.” They said, coming closer, scent wafting over Wolfstar finally.

The calico smelled like a molly, though before Wolfstar could even respond, the cat cut in again.

“Don’t get any ideas! I’m a tom cat!” He glared, eyes sharp, losing that excited shine. Instantly Wolfstar wanted the jovial look back.

“Ok, I’m a molly. My name is Wolfstar, I’m leader of Saltclan.” She politely bowed her head, the cat perked up and smiled.

“Wow the leader! I’m so lucky I ran into you.“ He chirped. “You clan cats really are accepting of cats like me.”

“What shifted cats? Yeah, it’s pretty common.” She tilted her head in confusion. “Did cats not know that where you come from?”

The cat seems to pause.

“There wasn’t a lot of cats around my house, everyone laughed when I said I was a tom. Then they got mad when I kept saying it. After a while I got sick of the teasing and mean looks. So I left.” His voice was soft, barely audible above the winds. “I heard from some other cats about the clans and one of them suggested I join Saltclan. They said that you have medicine and herbs that could make me feel more like myself.”

“Really? Who?”

“Capri and her granddaughter Jade.” Finally the cat climbed down to the last large rock, only a small leap from being equal with Wolfstar.

Instantly, her face lit up.

“Oh! Capri and Jade sent you?” All tension left from her body. “I haven’t been able to visit them for a while, are they doing ok?”

“They’re fabulous and living out in the barn the twolegs keep their water monsters in. It’s very warm, I was tempted to stay but I wanted to come to Saltclan.”

“Well clan life isn’t easy, we have to hunt for our food and fight to protect our borders. It takes a lot of work and you’re coming to us in leaf bare, it’ll be especially tough. We’re a small clan, we can’t afford to shelter anyone who can’t contribute.” Wolfstar fell solemn, the delight she felt hearing of her friends shifted back to a serious tone. “Can you hunt?”

“I hunted all the time with my housefolk!” The cat boasted. “I was in charge of killing all the bugs that came into the house.”

Wolfstar wanted to sigh, the little glimmer of hope snuffed out. Still she may as well humor the tom before sending him back to Capri.

“Not quite the same, but how about we hunt together. If you catch something, you can stay. If not, you’ll need to leave.” She said firmly, expecting some pouting and arguing.

“Deal!” He seemed smug, like he’d already joined.

He leapt down, crunching into the sand with his heavy body. Wolfstar took a moment to look him over, he had a heavy coat with a thick frame underneath, his paws were large. Other than his scent he looked like a tom cat either born or shifted.

She led the outsider back up the rocky walls, surprised he didn’t complain about having to traverse back up after just getting down. Once at the top they walked around the two leg nest and barn until they reached a small open field squished between the thunder path and more two leg nests.

It wasn’t the most substantial area to hunt on, but making the cat try to prove himself by fishing in the cold, frigid waters seemed unfair. The alternative was leading a stranger through the majority of the clan’s territory just to reach the grassy fields to the north east of their lands. The scrubby grass, battered by wind and carrion would have to do.

At the edge of the tall, dry grass she let him take the lead. He stalked fairly quiet, taking care to avoid patches that would crunch loudly. Once they reached the middle of the field they came to a halt, his nose twitching and ears moving. Wolfstar already knew what he was trying to hone in on, a large shrew, just a few tail lengths ahead was digging in the hard dirt.

It took a moment longer for him to finally pin point the prey, his ears swiveling to the exact spot. He launched quickly, quiet until he landed, crushing the grass and prey under him with a heavy paw.

The way he flaunted the shrew made her laugh, just like a kit who caught a feather, he flapped the limp prey at her as he passed. As she was about to scold him on treating prey well, he gentle placed the shrew down and covered it with a thin layer of dirt and foliage.

“Thank you little shrew. I’m sure you’ll be delicious.” He patted the mound with a wide grin before turning to her. “I think I heard a bird further up by the fence.”

He started to walk deeper into the field, but Wolfstar stopped him with a laugh.

“What?” He asked, immediately pulling back to her.

“Let’s head back to camp and get you settled.” She chuckled.

“Don’t you wanna see me hunt more?” He asked, genuinely confused.

Just like Shadowdive, she snorted.

“Deals a deal, you caught something, you can stay until we officially have you join the clan.” She explained, brushing the dirt off of the shrew. “Plus this isn’t our territory, it’s best to leave plenty of resources to the other predators that live around here.”

“Huh, I wouldn’t have thought of that.” He picked up the shrew.

“It’s one of our rules, there’s a lot of them. Once you join you’ll be expected to learn and follow them, we call it the warrior code.” She said, his mouth was full so the only response was his wide, bright eyes.

The pair trotted back to the rocks to enter Saltclan, taking their time down the slick rocks. Finally on the sand she turned to him.

“Before we go.” She stopped him from walking ahead. “You never said your name.”

He sat the shrew down to answer.

“It was Penny, but I’d like to take a warrior name like you.”

“What would you like to be named?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, still grinning. “You pick, you’re in charge.”

“Hmmmm.” She took a moment to appraise him, thinking through various combinations. Somehow thinking of a full name was easier than matching a prefix to a suffix, she had no idea what to name the kits or Burnpaw.

But with this cat, it seemed obvious.

“Fennelheart.” She said proudly, he cocked his head, likely not understanding the prefix.

But Wolfstar knew, when he got to the clerics den and received his first dose of shifting herbs, he’d understand.

Fennelheart’s introduction into the clan went smoothly, the tom was confident and charming, greeting his new clan mates with a wide smile. He seemed particularly dazzled by Shadowdive, following him with reverence throughout the camp. Shadowdive, for his part, mostly ignored the new cat, but when they did speak he was surprisingly tolerant of the former kittypet.

Lynxpaw had started him on shifting herbs, primarily fennel, and seemed to like the tom’s banter. They would spend most of the evenings together, Fennelheart very curious about their medical abilities.

While Burnpaw was naturally shy and easily flustered, he didn’t complain as he explained fire and cooking to their newest addition. It helped that Fennelheart praised his cooking and was eager to help.

Since he was new, he wasn’t allowed to roam about the territory just yet, usually he’d go hunting with Wolfstar. He was a surprisingly good hunter, his fishing skills were lack luster, but the clan could live with more rodent and birds in their diet for a while.

The first few days had gone so well, Wolfstar was ready to official invite him into the clan, she only need to speak with her deputy.

“Do you think I’m being too hasty?” She asked Snowspeckle one morning, the pair on their way to gather crafting supplies by the abandoned nest. “What if I’m rushing this?”

The snow was piling up but the artisan had insisted she could find supplies. They pushed through the powdery snow, keeping a brisk pace.

“I don’t know if we can afford to take our time, we need the help. Lynxpaw still hasn’t cleared Shadowdive to return to his full work.” Snowspeckle replied.

“Don’t you think that should make us slow down? I mean, what if this was all planned? He shows up in leafbare when we need help the most?” She knew she sounded paranoid, but around the older molly she felt safe enough to voice her nervous thoughts.

“No offense to Fennelheart, but he’s not exactly the sneaky type. He still tries to eat raw prey.” She chuckled. “Plus didn’t he say he came to us to find tolerance and safety? Sounds familiar right?”

“Heh yeah, you’re right.” Wolfstar’s laugh turned into a tense shiver, breathing in the cold air too fast. “I’ll speak with Lynxpaw before the half moon, ask for her to reflect on his arrival during her visit to the moon spring.”

They made it to the old twoleg nest, it reeked of Duskclan, but the clearing was empty. While the snow was still banking in some spots, the large branches and old structure blocked most of it and they could paw at the bare ground.

“Great idea, now help me dig up these roots.” The artisan patted the dirt surrounding a young spruce tree.

The pair worked in pleasant silence throughout the morning and well past sun high. They only had to dig a few pawfuls down to pull up spruce roots for cordage. Then they found a downed birch tree, usually harvesting the white barked trees was reserved for new leaf, but the bark was much easier to peel now that it was felled.

While Snowspeckle inspected various rocks, Wolfstar took time to mark the borders.

“Ugh every time I come here the border is fucked up.” She hissed as she clawed a tree.

“I’m surprised we haven’t run into them, no matter what time I visit the border is remarked.” Snowspeckle added, digging a rock out of the cold ground.

“They have enough warriors they could send someone six times a day easily.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t shown up now, we’ve been here so long. It’s like they don’t want to fight.” Snowspeckle mumbled as she lift the rock into her basket. “Which is fine by me, we can’t afford any injuries.”

Wolfstar didn’t answer, she suspected she knew why they’d never encountered the other clan. Jaggedstar knew just as well as she did that Saltclan was at a vast disadvantage numbers wise. Duskclan could easily take out their patrols, even if they had the full clan. But they didn’t.

Her tail twitched and she wasn’t sure if she was angry or relieved at her mother’s hypocrisy.

“Well I guess we’ll just keeping praying to Starclan we don’t have a confrontation.” Snowspeckle eventually said, eyeing her stiff leader.

Wolfstar shook her coat out with a huff.

“I was gonna try to hunt but the place stinks of cat so much I can’t get a scent on anything.” She grouched. “Let’s head back.”

The walk back was quiet and slow, snow beginning to fall. Without any historians to help with weather predictions and patterns, the clan had no way to know when a snowstorm or blizzard would hit. The unofficial rule was when the snow starts up, head to the clan.

“Have you thought anymore about what role your sons would be best for?” Wolfstar asked as they neared the camp.

“I’ve been watching how they play and what stories they like, but lately neither of them seem interested in anything but whatever Shadowdive is doing.” She huffed. “I wish one of them would be interested in artisan work, but they are very uninterested.”

“I plan to ask them before their apprenticeship, but I think they’ll choose to be warriors.” The leader smiled. “In that case, Shadowdive will obviously mentor one. Do you want to mentor one too?”

“Oh stars no! I’ve done my time, it’s someone else’s turn to handle them.” She laughed deeply. “I know Shadowdive will be a good mentor.”

“I figured you’d wanna skip that, in that case I’ll obviously take the other one.”

“I’m glad, you’ll be good for them, you already are.”

The pair bumped heads, tails twined as they entered the camp. The only cat in the camp was Shadowdive, he had his injured paw in the tide pools, working on his stretches like Lynxpaw told him. Mousefoot had even visited to show him how to do them.

Wolfstar slipped her basket off her neck and sat it beside the unlit oven. She peeked into the cleric den, seeing Lynxpaw sorting herbs. Snowspeckle began to organize the supplies they brought back.

Wolfstar took a look into the apprentice den, expecting to see Burnpaw, when it was empty she quickly checked the warrior den. Inside he was curled up next to Fennelheart, their backs touching.

She glanced back to Shadowdive, still working on his paw.

“Where are the kits?” She asked.

He glanced up with a sour expression, the cold water making him grumpy.

“With Lynxpaw.” He said, Snowspeckle’s head popped up.

“Lynxpaw are the kits in there with you?” The queen called out.

“No? They were napping with Burnpaw and Fennelheart.” Lynxpaw stepped out of her cave.

Wolfstar entered the warrior’s den, the shouting slowly waking up both toms. She checked under the pelts, no sign of the kits.

“What’s going on?” Fennelheart asks as Burnpaw leaps to his feet, fur fluffed up.

“When did you last see the kits?” Wolfstar asked him, behind her Shadowdive ran to check the nursery and other dens.

“Before our nap, they were gonna join us but then they said they wanted to wait for Shadowdive.” He said stepping out to around the camp.

“They’re not in camp!” Snowspeckle cried, head whipping around. “Where could they have gone? Oh Starclan it’s snowing they could be anywhere.”

“There’s no outsider scents, but I can’t find a trail for the kits.” Shadowdive said.

Wolfstar leapt onto a large rock atop the warrior’s den.

“Everyone! Remain calm, the kits likely snuck out and have been gone a while.” She yowled, pulling the groups focus. “We must find them soon, we will pair up and search the territory.”

Pointing to each cat she began to pair them up.

Snowspeckle and Burnpaw.

Wolfstar and Lynxpaw.

Shadowdive and Fennelheart.

“Should someone stay here in case they return?” Lynxpaw asked.

“No its best for everyone to have backup just in case.” Wolfstar jumped down, eyes focused.

The teams set off immediately, Wolfstar and Lynxpaw headed east up the coast line and towards the abandoned nest. Shadowdive and Fennelheart up north filling the east river to the border. Snowspeckle and Burnpaw went west towards the half bridge.

Shadowdive moved slowly, his sprain painful in the cold, but Fennelheart didn’t seem to notice. The calico tom sprinting ahead in the flurry, he’d turn back when he was just out of sight. This pattern continued, he’d search ahead of the dark cat, returning back when called.

The pair slowly worked their way up the river before reaching the Duskclan border, it was difficult to tell based in scent, but Shadowdive recognized claw marks on the tree trunks.

“Follow the tree line, of we don’t find them before the twoleg nest, we’ll search the forest.” He ordered.

Fennelheart paused.

“That’s not what Wolfstar told us to do.” He hesitated.

“She can yell at me later, we’re finding those kits.” Shadowdive snarled, pushing past the calico to trudge through the snow, ignoring the stinging in his paws.

Fennelheart remained quiet as he ran behind the larger tom, paws crunching the thick snow. He sped past his companion, taking off down the border line.

“Shadowdive! Come here!” Fennelheart called out, Shadowdive hissed as he sprinted, pushing past his pain as he leapt over a snowbank.

Fennelheart was standing upright with his paws on the bark of a dead tree, his eyes locked on the upper branches. Shadowdive had to shake the snow out of his whiskers to see Otterkit clinging to the trunk.

Getting closer he could see Ripplekit, the pair were practically covered in snow, yowling and crying.

“It’s ok we’re here!” Shadowdive called out, Otterkit’s head turned, big teary eyes locked on the brown tabby. “I’ll get them, be ready to help catch.” He ordered Fennelheart who nodded.

Gathering his frozen paws under him, Shadowdive launched himself up the trunk. The wood crunched under his weight, shaking the tree.

“Shit,” He spat, letting himself fall back to the ground, taking care not to land on his injured leg. “I’m too heavy.”

“Let me try.” Fennelheart jumped up the trunk, not getting far before the trunk began to splinter as well. He tumbled back down to the ground. “What do we do?”

“They’re up too high, damnit, you need to run and grab the others. As fast as you can go back to camp, at least one team should’ve returned by now.” His chest felt tight. “The storm is blowing from the south over the ocean, run into the wind and you’ll make it to the coast.”

If Fennelheart responded, he ran off too fast for Shadowdive to hear it. The brown tabby tom stayed at the base of the tree, eyes locked on the trembling kits.

“Shadowdive.” He could hear Otterkit’s sniffles.

“It’s ok brat, I’m here. You’re gonna be ok.” He tried to purr soothingly, but the rumbling comfort was lost in the winds. “Try to huddle together for warmth.”

Fennelheart ran fast south, the wing and snow stinging his eyes. His legs felt like ice and he could barely feel his ears.

It felt like he’d been running forever before he finally crashed into camp, so snow blind he didn’t even see it before tumbling over the walls. He landed with a grunt in the sand, coughing the grit up he scrambled to his feet.

“Fennelheart?” Snowspeckle yelped as he spun around, she and Burnpaw were the only team that’s returned. “What happened?”

“The kit-“ He coughed and gagged, Burnpaw stepped forward to help him. “They’re at the border up a dead tree, Shadowdive and I are too heavy to climb it!”

As the three left, they ran into Wolfstar and Lynxpaw, the final pair to return. Quickly they joined the group and followed the calico north.

It took a while to find the tree, they could barely see, but soon they could hear Shadowdive’s shouts. Gathering around the trunk, Wolfstar tested the trunks, it was shaky and easily swayed.

“Burnpaw, climb up to grab them, you’re the lightest of us.” She instructed him, he looked nervously between her and Snowspeckle. “Hurry, we can’t risk anyone else damaging it.”

Hesitantly, the red tabby began climbing, claws digging into the icy wood. He worked his way up the rickety trunk slowly. Otterkit clung to the trunk, unable to crawl to meet him, shivering so much he nearly lost his grip.

Burnpaw grabbed him by his scruff, alarmed by how cold he felt and tried to beckon Ripplekit closer. But the white kits eyes were screwed shut and he stayed frozen in place. Slowly Burnpaw climbed back downwards, holding the kit between his chest and the tree.

When he got close enough he passed the kit down to Lynxpaw who took him and ran back to camp with him and Fennelheart for treatment. Snowspeckle stayed behind, watching Ripplekit with wide eyes and circling the trunk.

With more confidence, Burnpaw climbed back up.

“Ripplekit! Ripplekit!” He called out, but the kit didn’t seem to hear him.

He crawled onto the branch more, but the wood crunched and shakes under his weight. He could hear gasps bellow him, but the shaking did make the kit’s eyes snap open. As soon as he locked on Burnpaw’s face, Ripplekit launched himself across the branch.

Burnpaw grabbed his scruff and yanked him down just as the tree began to shake and splinter. The two fell to the ground, Burnpaw managing to land roughly on his feet, still clutching Ripplekit.

The group flocks around him as Snowspeckle takes her kit and runs ahead home. Wolfstar following after her, leaving Shadowdive and Burnpaw to hobble home together.

Burnpaw felt like his entire body was sore and rattled, while Shadowdive’s sprain felt the worst it ever had. It was the first time they’d been alone together since Burnpaw had joined the clan. The tense silence punctuated by the stifling cold.

“That was good… what you did. That was brave.” Shadowdive finally said, surprising the apprentice.

“Th-thanks, that me-means a lot coming from you.” Burnpaw stuttered, the chill making his teeth chatter.

Shadowdive scoffed, jaw tense as he glared ahead into the snowy white. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Burnpaw wanted to argue, to say that it really did mean a lot that it was him who praised him. He wanted to tell the larger tom how brave he thought he was, how he climbed that tree because he knew it was what Shadowdive would’ve done.

But instead he let the words die in his throat, the world getting darker as night fell.

That night, Lynxpaw treated the kits with warm soup and fire warmed pelts in her den. She put plenty of burdock root and fennel seeds in their bowls to help heat them up. Snowspeckle spent the evening grooming and rubbing them, to get their blood circulating.

Wolfstar cooked that night, making a quick rabbit and seaweed soup with prey Burnpaw had been prepping. Adding flax to thickened it up and warming herbs as well, she served the clan while they waited to be checked out by Lynxpaw.

Fennelheart’s body was sore and covered in bruises from his fall into camp, though he insisted her didn’t need any care and returned to the warrior den with his soup quickly. She still gave him some comfrey to place in his nest to help soothe his bruises. Burnpaw thankfully was uninjured, just some sore joints from his landing. Lynxpaw gave him some daisy leaf oil and heather honey.

Shadowdive’s wrist was swollen and hot to the touch, she gave him more herbs and placed a cooling balm of chamomile and lavender on it. He protested the treatment and even tried to go to his nest, but Wolfstar dragged him by his scruff back. The cooling balm was uncomfortable and he disliked how chilly it felt, but perked up when Wolfstar suggested everyone sleep in the nursery together to stay warm. Given how it was the most insulated den and had majority of the pelts, everyone agreed.

Gathering the clan inside, she kept Fennelheart, Burnpaw, and the kits in the center, her and Lynxpaw taking the spots by the entrance. Shadowdive ignored her suggestion to stay towards the back, instead pushing himself into her nest, pressing himself to her side purring loudly. Lynxpaw tucked herself in the nest on his other side, tucking her nose into her bushy tail.

Tomorrow, the kits will be scolded, made to explain why’d they’d done what they did and to promise never to do it again. Otterkit will cry and ask if they’ll not be made apprentices, only quieting down when Wolfstar steps in. Ripplekit will be extra quiet, complain his ears are too cold and sulk in the den.

But tonight, in the warmth of the den, the clan can breathe a sigh of relief.

#clangen #warrior cats #wc #saltclan #saltclan moon update #moon 10

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salt-clangen · 6 days ago

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Transgender here, honestly? I feel like it depends on how serious you want to be. Like would a warrior cat know the word fuck? Probably not, but whatever because they’re literally battle cats. HOWEVER. I have seen funnier versions where Kittypets and the like are like “you mean The Fucking Car?” Upon hearing what Monsters are.

Also! If you want to go a more metaphorical and wonderous route, may I refer to you the wonderful post of “Why not entertain the thought that God made trans people for the same reason we turn Wheat to bread, and grapes to wine? To, as well, take part in divine creation?” Or something along those lines. Soul is forever shifting like water and such. It could also depend on clan culture, honestly. More traditional clan? It could have to do with Starclans fate. Laid back? Yeah that’s Honeydew they come here every half moon for their herb delivery. Yeah she’s a Molly now.

Also! Now I don’t think you could do this story wise, obviously. You probably have everything written out. BUT! Depending on the kitty, dare I say you could technically have deadnames? Even without the gender, what if that cat resents their old clan and wants to pick a name in defiance? I imagine this would cause problems if still in the original clan, as it could be something of a massive sign of disrespect.

Anyway, sorry for the wordvomit! It got me thinking and these are really specific circumstance I can’t usually yap about.

Never be ashamed of yapping, bc between yours and mine I finally figured out how I wanna write trans/gender queerness in my clans.

Warning: loss ass rambling under the cut

First off, I’m basing some of my “clan cats know this word from speaking with kittypets who hear it from their owners” from the newest comics that show Princess talking about her canned food. If they can understand and utilize what’s spoken to them with enough repetition then I think it can make it into their vernacular and still be considered canon (to an extent)

Now onto my update head canon and opinion:

I think, while kittypets and loners may have heard the term trans, they don’t know what transitioning is or entails, and why would they? Their owners aren’t going to put them on hrt or anything, like it’s just not happening. But the clans (and other cat groups out in the aether) have access to technology and tools that kittypets and loners could never!

So yeah a kittypet may be out there sighing and going ‘I wish I was a molly not a tom’ they have no concept of transitioning and gender affirming care beyond changing pronouns or names. Which is why the clans don’t adopt the term ‘trans’ and instead use ‘shifted/shifting’ it makes sense to me, you’re shifting genders, you take your shifting herbs, you’re a shifted tom cat not a born tom cat. (Born is similar to cisgender and wouldn’t come up very often, it’s not rude just not a topic normally discussed)

And yes we are 100% keeping dead names as a term and we will see it in the next moon, it’s rude to ask someone’s dead name or use it, names can only be changed through leaders or Starclan (through clerics). Basically if you ask for a new name bc the old one gives you dysphoria for whatever reason then yeah, majority of leaders are gonna be cool and name you something else. It’s not super common with clan born cats just bc names aren’t gendered, but no leader is gonna force you to keep a name that makes you so upset. New names aren’t called anything, same with pronouns, no one says ‘preferred’ name or ‘preferred’ pronouns, it’s just your name and to indicate otherwise is rude.

As for the spiritual side of things, I could see the clans being on a spectrum with how they view transness in cats. On one end it’s like you said “the soul is fluid and ever changing and to restrict that is against starclan and all the cats that came before” and on the other end is “yeah of course we can trans your gender, we’ve got fire and tools”. I see the clans as a whole leaning more towards ‘change is a sign of progression and a natural good thing’.

I don’t want to make one clan like transphobic or anything but I’m liking the idea of the clans in general having fairly rigid gender expectations (not necessarily gender roles but ya know) and transitioning is fine but you’re presumed to follow whatever is expected of your new gender identity.

Oh you’re a molly now? We’ll time to stop roaming around so much, you’d be happier in camp most of the day and you’d better start speaking up at meetings, defending your opinions and make yourself heard.

You’re a tom? Well better get ready for a border patrol follow by more border patrols, you don’t need to be hanging out in camp all the time, and don’t raise your voice at that cat, you’d better learn to watch your tone at meetings.

Wait you’re a gib? We’ll be prepared for responsibility and lots of it, born a gib or shifted later in life you’ve got great expectations. Leader, deputy, cleric are all expected paths for you. You’re wise and leader-like, you can’t be acting foolish at gatherings or around the kits, everyone looks up to you and expects you to be great and note worthy.

It all stems from how mollies and toms naturally behave some truth in it, but in the clans it can come with stigma no matter what. With so many cats in one place, constantly surrounded by each other, there’s gonna be some toxicity in the culture.

That’s not to say a molly can’t be a code keeper (which would require a cat to go off into the territory alone often) or a tom can’t be camp keeper, its more so how they interact with each other and what’s expected of them. When a cat acts outside of their gender specifications (born or shifted) it’s considered gender queer/gender non conforming. @bonefall has great posts about gender in the clans that I’m inspired heavily by.

Burnpaw was seen as odd for wanting to be a camp keeper as a tom he should want to be out of camp and out in the territory, but he’s still demure and defers to the stronger opinionated cats. He has no interest in shifting to be a molly, this is considered gender queer or non conforming (I’ll just use gnc).

Wolfstar is the same, she should’ve been assigned gib at birth, due to her shockingly white fur (with a dark coated mother) and the prophecy about her. But her mom (wisely) chose to leave her designation as a molly given the presumptions that would be placed on her (that she’d already seen happen to Ashen). Wolfstar is gnc bc she roams A LOT compared to Snowspeckle or Lynxpaw, she exhibits traits typically of all three genders.

Snow and Lynx are more typical mollies, they like staying close to camp, they enjoy more product based activities (think crafts and medication preparing). Snow can be a little more differing than a molly ‘should’ be as deputy, but she’s communicative. Lynx expresses herself easily and often.

Shadow is very typical of a tom, he likes action based tasks (hunting and fighting etc) and being out of camp. He’s also more preferential to mollies and kits, but very aggressive at borders and with strangers. He’s also fairly quiet and enjoys social activities when he is in camp.

Wolf and Burn are the odd balls of the bunch.

Kits don’t start displaying gender specific behavior until they’re apprentices (irl this would be when cats hit puberty and start having hormonal changes if left intact). When they’re young they just act like any gender and it’s more personality based, then when the hormones are involved it amplifies the habits already present.

These head canons aren’t perfect or exactly how I want it and I wish I’d done more planning before starting the story, but tbh it’s my blog so I can retcon things if I wanna lol

Also I deleted your tldr ask bc I’d be too tempted to keep going and I need to pace myself 😅

In summary:

The clans are the only ones in the area who know how to use herbs as Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT).

Clans call this shifting and refer to cats as shifted toms/mollies/gibs.

Cats (in general) have certain expectations of each gender, these aren’t set in stone but do affect how a cat’s actions are viewed to an extent.

Behavior outside of these gender norms are considered gender nonconforming. Sometimes this leads to cats shifting but not always.

Dead names are not uncommon and it’s rude to use one’s dead name or misgender them on purpose.

I’ll make a post about which clan has stricter gender roles than others later, rn I’m just glad I got this far.

#clangen #warrior cats #wc #saltclan #asks #thank you this was so helpful honestly

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