#After long enough in Starclan you just become Starclan. You only keep that individuality for the first 30 years being there

[snailchasers-den]

How does starclan reacts to Spottedleaf's lies?

Super sorry for answering this so late, I've been super busy LMAO I try to answer asks as quickly as I can, so thank you for being so patient!

This will contain some spoilers for my fic, even if I might tweak some things before then, so know this is subject to some possible changes! It'll also contain some mild horror and themes of being watched, so fair warning!

It's nothing big at first, for a while she actually flies comfortably under the radar, the problem only really starts getting recognized by Starclan once they tell the clan the false prophecy, uncomfortably close to before whenever Spotted receives the 'Fire will save our clan' one, and gets worse once Yellowfang gets there and starts working alongside her. A lot of the plan hindered on the only other medicine cat around being her and her apprentice, so Yellowfang appearing threw a massive wrench in things. Yellowfang does agree not to reveal the fact she's faking her and Tigerclaw's prophecy, but can't promise she'll be able to keep her safe from everything that may come her way because of it.

She starts to avoid the night sky after that, doing her best to only go out during the day, or when the stars are hidden by clouds. But that doesn't always help her when she starts to feel watched near constantly. She's not exactly sure if it's a manifestation of guilt or Starclan themselves, at the time, but she starts to have dreams if not hallucinations of silent starclan cats, just... Watching as she tries to gather herbs. It's extremely rare for Starclan to decend from the sky, much less for no good reason. They don't tell you how dead and lightless an otherwise glittering Starclan cat's eyes can look when they stare at you so blankly. Nothing proves they're no longer alive more than that.

Yellowfang tries to comfort her through the days, but she out of anybody can tell it's starting to weigh on her- She does her best to make her feel a bit more secure, but having another cat with Starclan's gifts so nearby only makes things more unsettling.

Starclan is very different in this AU, being a lot more reserved and ominous, much closer to a coalescence of all the spirits of their ancestors that started having their lines between eachother smudged long ago. The clans have this image of ethereal starry passed family members who watch over them and keep them safe, but if you look deeper, there's something beneath the surface. They don't actively try to stop Spottedleaf, since this is likely a new type of crime, faking a prophecy not for power, but for something as simple and small as love, so instead they just judge. They know she knows they're watching her, and they plan to keep doing it until she dies, even if she tries to shut Starclan out of her mind later.

She does start trying to shut out Starclan once she realizes she's pregnant with Tigerclaw's kit. She knows the clan will see them as something special due to the prophecy that allowed them to be born 'within the code', and she doesn't need twice the stress with Starclan still lingering around her during the whole thing. Unfortunately, with her having such a strong connection with Starclan, and Tigerclaw having his own ties to it for wildly different reasons, their son ends up having a much, much higher connection than a majority of medicine cats do, even from a young age. Spotted isn't sure whether they passed it down to him, or if Starclan felt a bit sadistic and decided to play along for now, but for a while, the starry figures that stalk her through the forest seem to dissipate. She can't tell why, though, but she can feel in her bones that they'll be back for her.

Tigerclaw doesn't have a direct link with Starclan, but he does actually get his own glimpses of them, though his seem to be more based in malice. They've obviously never been too fond of him, and since Pinestar refused to kill him as a kit, they've let that demand go, but a lingering distaste for him never faded. He's been plagued with nightmares his entire life, but something about the ones he started getting once Starclan discovered their lie seemed to be less copy-paste with a few adjustments, and more personal. Deeper cutting and more unnerving. Ones he couldn't shake even with Spottedleaf at his side every night.

[offkeyed-reason]

just thinking about how i've revamped starclan for my aus...

all the mystical bullshit the clans believe starclan can do? actually the work of a handful of cats that were remembered for so long they gained godhood. ...and there's a surprising amount of them -- probably enough to have a full clan if you tried.

clan kitty hell? it's just banishment from starclan's circle of the afterlife. "dark forest" is an ancient term for "mysterious beyond", although the word "dark" can still mean "unknown" or "mystery" in certain contexts.

individual starclan cats -- and those that have been banished -- can have some power, depending on how many cats remember them. this power typically wanes until the spirit fades and falls from the sky. that's what the "dying warrior" in arc 2 was. [if i'd have to name the cat it was, i'd probably go with mistpelt. some old cat that mentored tigerclaw's father] the most power any single starclan cat ever displays is to either appear in the dreams of the living -- very frowned upon, please don't do it spottedleaf i don't care if he's savior of the clans or his kin have strong ties to starclan they need some fucking sleep some time -- or create tabby/tortoiseshell patterns on kits. [completely solid cats with no tabby marks or funky colors are said to be very bad signs, especially if they're the only cats in the nursery or apprentice den. solid cats are just simply seen as bad luck, while tabby torties/calicos are seen as extra lucky.]

spirits that were banished from starclan only truly have power among the clans if starclan was split on their decision, if the warrior code was changed because of this spirit's life, or because this cat is called upon by the living for any sort of help because it seems like starclan abandoned them. this typically results in said spirits ascending to godhood and rejoining starclan because who can keep a god from doing what they want to? ...plus, the more gods, the less likely living cats are to call upon banished spirits for help.

so far the only banished spirits to become gods are ripplestar -- a cat who lived so long ago that the living only remember him as a god you'd invoke for good fortune during an ambush [so the clan he lead in life, shadowclan, invokes him the most often] -- and mapleshade.

so far the list of gods in starclan are:

wind runner/windstar: god of wind and austereness

tall shadow/the tallest shadow: god of shadows and change

river('s) ripple: god of water and adaptability

thunder: god of storms and protection

skystar: god of skies and war [worshiped by non-clan cats as well]

graywing the wise: god of wisdom

mothflight the wandering: god of medicine [prophecies come from her; invoked by medcats during epidemics]

pebbleheart the all-seeing: god of clairvoyance [prophecies come from him too; invoked by medcats before they share tongues with starclan, be it alone or during a Consulting, my name for the half-moon gatherings]

gorsestar: god of earth and cunning [invoked only in windclan before entering a cave or tunnel or before a hunt]

cloudflower* and ryewhisker: gods of tragic love [typically invoked in jest when teasing a cat about a cross-clan crush. seriously invoked in hopes of granting a peaceful future for kits that are the byproducts of forbidden romances. also gods of other religions, as they originally rejected starclan after death. (i'll need to work on the details later, but know that non-clan cats worship them solely as gods of love.)]

maplestar: god of leadership and wisdom [skyclan exclusive, though she is worshiped (with the name maple's whisker) by non-clan cats in the modern day, thanks to skyclan's dissolution.]

ripplestar: god of ambushes

darkstar of skyclan: god of leaders. [invoked when a deputy becomes leader, in hopes of protecting them. also his name translates to mystery star.]

mossheart, swiftfoot, quailfeather, kinktail, and prickleface: gods of healing [invoked by medcats after battles or when cats are attacked by larger predators. other cats invoke them when the clan's medcat(s) head off to the consulting. specifically invoked by shadowclan, windclan, skyclan, riverclan, and thunderclan respectively. quailfeather (under the name quail's feather) is worshiped by non-clan cats as all gods who were skyclan in life are.]

rabbitstar: god of tunnels [windclan exclusive and is invoked prior to starting any new tunneling project or entering unfamiliar tunnels/caves]

morningstar the kind: god of protection [invoked before battle in order to ensure as many cats as possible come back home. also the first cat since founding days to be referred to with a title.]

lilystar: god of feasts [invoked commonly during famines in order to end them, but is also invoked in times of plenty to give thanks]

meadowpelt and troutstar: gods of watchfulness [invoked most often by new warriors about to sit vigil]

featherstar and acornstar: gods of teaching and learning respectively [invoked when new apprentices are given mentors in the hopes that both mentor and apprentice will be good matches for each other and both cats grow from it]

ivystar: god of rescues and missed opportunities [invoked when rescuing kits and when young cats die]

redscar: god of improvisation [invoked when horrifically unplanned things happen, such as a young leader losing all their lives, a clan losing their medicine cat, etc.]

flowerstar: god of nurture [typically invoked by new leaders wishing to guide their clans forward, but also invoked by mothers hoping for the absolute best for their kits]

mapleshade: god of vengeance [usually invoked only by windclan and shadowclan. just speaking her name is said to be enough to actually summon her. only invoke her if you want cats dead or to suffer until they die. not invoked in riverclan or thunderclan because both clans wronged her in life and no cat dares to risk the lives of their clanmates. interestingly, mapleshade's kits have yet to fade, likely because they're integral to her story. they aren't gods, but they have the same amount of power as the freshly deceased.]

daisytail and oakleaf: gods of youth [invoked when wishing for your kits to be protected, regardless of if they're apprentices or younger. riverclan and thunderclan tend to invoke both of them together while windclan only invokes daisytail and shadowclan only invokes oakleaf]

* = this cat's name is canonically cloudberry, but i changed it because a cat later on in the timeline -- goosefeather's mentor -- has the same name. i could have tried to keep their names the same like with the different darkstars, but i'm a stupid shit that accidentally calls onestar's daughter feathertail sometimes. but here's a fun fact: cloudflower's name actually translates to something along the lines of "storm cloud bringing berry flower clusters". [she's a dark grey kitty and i wanted to reference her original name] cloudberry's name [cloudberry as in goosefeather's mentor] translates to something like "wispy cloud that ripens like a berry"

rabbitstar is the only god who didn't create any major change in clan society. this could be argued of morningstar the kind as well, but he has a title and created a rule in the warrior code.

[mallowstep]

holy days. holidays. games kits play.

THUNDERCLAN has no holy days. there is no day more worth celebrating than any other. each day has chance for tragedy and happiness. informally, the dark days of leafbare are something of a holy, hallowed time, when even kits know the severity their clan could face.

neither do they have holidays. ceremonies celebrate individuals, and after a hard leaf-bare, a leader might congratulate the clan, but there is no such thing as a holiday. there’s a reason cats leave thunderclan more than they join, but  there’s also a reason outside cats are attracted to thunderclan.

but kits in thunderclan are joyous. they play moss ball, practice hunting, and act out scenes from battles elders told them about. for thunderclan, there is no such thing as a kit acting too immature, because the joy of kits playing is why they need to defend camp.

RIVERCLAN has holy days like the river has fish. new moons and the end of seasons and the beginning of seasons. the first morning where ice on the lake has broken and every time it rains. **other clans call them frivolous, but it is how they honor their fortune, how they commune with those who have passed, and this is why riverclan believes they, above any other, are most spiritual. [1]

a holy day is a holiday as far as riverclan is concerned. there is no event not worth celebrating, each stage of life moving them onward. they honor the river and the way the water moves but the river keeps its course. feasts are common, as are flower decorations, and swimming competition.

maybe this is why riverclan kits are so calm. they grow up sheltered by reeds and water, water dangerous if they fall in too soon. kits play in the nursery as much as possible, never leaving without a careful eye on them until they are capable of swimming. they can be patient, because once they are older, there will be plenty of time for play. [2]

SHADOWCLAN has holy days like the sky has stars. they are serious, though. half moons are a sanctified time, with the medicine cats away, and the first frost is a warning day, filled with prayer, that they won’t starve for loss of the frogs and lizards that make up much of their new-leaf and green-leaf diet.

holidays are minor, the days before and after holy days surrounded in preparations and feasts, fasts being prepared for and broken, and kits, who sense the coming changes even if they’re not explicitly told, exploiting the minimized supervision, running around camp like they’re half-loner.

kits are a playful bunch. they play out their wars across camp, claiming swaths of land as shadowclan and thunderclan and windclan. they play battle, mock fights, hunt leaves. after brokenstar, queens are cautious, trying to keep their kits in, fearing them appearing too old once again. but they can't keep them in the nursery forever.

WINDCLAN has few holy days, but they have fasting days and hymn days, new moons and quarter moons and rain. they have winds of change and stability, winds from south and north. they don't need a day to venerate the stars, they say. it's something a good warrior is always thinking of. each day has something holy in it, whether it is a lucky catch, a new birth, or an apprentice's first trip to the moonstone.

their holidays are singing days, part prayer and part celebration. the medicine cat will choose the section, or start from the wind and go all the way through, but apprentices revel in a day off from training and mates choose duets to sing together. kits mostly listen, and sit with their parents, but sometimes a group will petition for a chance to sing, and sometimes, that request will be granted.

kits race around camp, playing in flat areas left for their amusement. there's little structure to their days, and they exhaust themselves chasing and pouncing. windclan has no dens; warriors often becoming unintentional obstacles as kits duck under them and weave between their legs. but there is still join in this; windclan has long been troubled and having enough kits to play is a relief.

SKYCLAN was reborn by the paws of thunderclan. firestar left them no holy days, and yet, they found their own with time. full moons and half moons, hallowed time of gathering, when the spirits were close enough they could reach them. the days the river flooded became mourning days, the day they found the cave of shining moss became a day of prayer.

holidays and holy days are one and the same. loners and rogues have neither, and kittypets could only bring word of twolegs acting strangely at somewhat regular intervals. they celebrate the dead of winter, doing the best they can to feast with everything they could. skyclan has no time to waste; each day is to be utilized to its fullest.

kits play the games of their parents, chasing moss balls or collecting sticks. loners come with their own traditions, and skyclan's nursery is a mixture of them. clovertail had the biggest influence, raising kits on her games of hiding and catching. their nursery now has never seen her, but with each season of kits, the games morph, hiding leaping for feathers and telling the story of reassembling the clan.

YELLOWFANG joins thunderclan and growls at kits playing and really, who can blame her? she knew to fear kits seeming older than they were; she knew kithood was a fragile time. and if she was irritable, maybe it was in part because the rhythm of her life had been shattered, with no days of quiet reflection to break up the chaos.

GREYSTRIPE enjoys the lighter moments, when he is with riverclan. crookedstar took him into his family, introducing him to the traditions. he watched featherkit and stormkit play, told them stories of their mother when it rained, and for some amount of time, felt like he belonged.

IN STARCLAN, the seasons often merge together. there is no need to honor the ancestors you are a part of. the youngest members of starclan are the most energetic, running across the fields and forests. they never learned about differences between clans, not properly, but they bring the smallest traditions they were taught.

obviously the ice is a new one. cultures change. ↩︎

of course, this logic is the product of raising kits in a dangerous environment. kits are kits, and they will play. they’re just basically never left unsupervised. riverclan kits would never get up to the hyjinks we see in thunderclan. ↩︎

[calitraditionalism]

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.”