#Estherfern

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 74

Rattlepelt starts weaving lavender through her fox pelt to mark her changed self since her possession. Splashtuft cuts his leg on ocean debris and develops a scar.

[Image ID: Rattlepelt now has a sprig of lavender by her ear. Under her, it reads + ACCESSORY: LAVENDER, - CONDITION: BITE WOUND. Splashtuft now has a small scar on his left hind leg.]

(Rattlepelt: 57, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Splashtuft: 22, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)

(Moon 74, Part 2)

Estherfern’s kits become apprentices.

[Image ID: Estherfern’s five kits now have apprentice sprites. Under Thunderpaw, it says LEVEL UP! THUNDERKIT → THUNDERPAW, BULLYING → ADVENTUROUS. Under Boughpaw, it says LEVEL UP! BOUGHKIT → BOUGHPAW, QUIET → RIGHTEOUS. Under Brightpaw, it says LEVEL UP! BRIGHTKIT → BRIGHTPAW, SKY → LONESOME, + PERMANENT CONDITION: SOCIAL ANXIETY. Under Foampaw, it says LEVEL UP! FOAMKIT → FOAMPAW, UNRULY → TROUBLESOME. Under Wolverinepaw, it says LEVEL UP! WOLVERINEKIT → WOLVERINEPAW, SKITTISH → COMPASSIONATE.]

---

“Let me be the first to say that you five have a hard apprenticeship ahead of you,” Downstar declared over the camp as Estherfern sat behind her kits. All five sat as groomed as Estherfern could get them, trying to remember their mother’s lessons on decorum. Brightkit shook harder than anyone else, ears threatening to tilt down. Wolverinekit and Foamkit’s tails poked at the other, unable to keep their excitement hidden. Thunderkit sat just a bit closer to the Shiprock while Boughkit remained the only one still and politely attentive, as Estherfern taught her to be. The rest of RippleClan listened with similar captured attention to their leader.

“On top of some of the personal struggles you face,” Downstar continued, “I’m afraid you won’t have the same freedoms most of your Clanmates had at your age. We can’t risk you being caught unawares by the spirit that claimed our beloved deputy.” Estherfern would make sure of that. She had already performed a ritual over the apprentice’s den with Honeybuzz and Weevilpaw, guarding the incoming apprentices from harm.

“Despite that,” Downstar said, “RippleClan will ensure you are ready for the challenges ahead. The five of you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. Thunderkit, from this day forward until you receive your full name, you shall be known as Thunderpaw. You have expressed interest in the path of a caretaker, and I have chosen Drumtooth as your mentor.” The newly named Thunderpaw jumped up, scanning the crowd behind her mother for her new mentor. Drumtooth slipped around Estherfern and the other kits. Thunderpaw was almost Drumtooth’s size, making it easy for her to touch his nose. Her whole pelt shivered with excitement. 

“In order to give you the best pawhold on your future,” Downstar added as Drumtooth and Thunderpaw returned their gaze to her, “Troutpool and Paleseed have arranged for you to receive some lessons in Clan-sign from Mummichogleap, a deaf warrior of SlugClan. I’ve already informed Drumtooth of this arrangement and with his help, you shall become an excellent caretaker.”

“I’ll try, Downstar,” Drumtooth promised with a deep nod.

“Me too,” Thunderpaw chirped.

Clan-sign? Estherfern had never heard of any lesson plans. She was Thunderpaw’s mother, why hadn’t she been informed? She found Troutpool to the side of the crowd, seated with Tallowpaw and Slushpaw. Troutpool’s focus was on Thunderpaw as she and Drumtooth moved aside for the next kit of the litter to earn their name. Why would Troutpool agree to these lessons? How much time would this Clan-sign take away from Thunderpaw’s important lessons? Why did she have to learn such a trick when she should use that time to hone her survival skills? If they had to talk to someone outside the Clan for these lessons, obviously no one in RippleClan knew Clan-sign. What would be the point of learning something no one else understood?

Estherfern got so caught up in herself, she nearly missed when Boughkit stepped forward and Downstar delivered her new name.

“From this moment on,” Downstar declared, “until you receive your full name, you shall be known as Boughpaw. You have chosen a historian’s path, and I have chosen Oilstripe as your mentor.”

“You did?” Oilstripe muttered so quietly Estherfern barely heard her. She crept out of the crowd, focus shifting between Boughpaw and Downstar.

“Weedfoot taught you well, Oilstripe,” Downstar sighed with a slow nod. “I want you to continue following in her pawsteps by training a new apprentice.” Oilstripe held her breath at the mention of the former deputy. She sighed, bowing softly with a quiet purr. She softly touched noses with Boughpaw and escorted her to the side.

“Brightkit,” Downstar called. Brightkit didn’t move at first, eyes locked on Downstar, paws stuck in the sand. Foamkit head-butted him from behind, making him skitter forward. He fought to his paws, staring up in awe at his leader. “From this day forward until you receive your full name, you shall be known as Brightpaw. In order to craft you into the best warrior you can be, Trumpetspore shall be your mentor. Her wisdom and skill shall guide you down the path you’re destined to follow.” Estherfern hid her disappointment when Trumpetspore came up. The black molly was too awkward for Estherfern’s tastes. Brightpaw needed a mentor with strength and confidence to supply him with what he lacked. Estherfern bit her tongue as Trumpetspore and Brightpaw touched noses.

“Foamkit,” Downstar said, but the ticked molly was up and ready before her name was even called. “From this moment on, until you receive your full name, you shall be known as Foampaw. You have decided to be a caretaker like your sister, so I have chosen Mosspounce as your mentor. Don’t get into too much trouble, now.” A chuckle rose through the Clan as Mosspounce bounded to his new apprentice. The pair smacked into one another’s faces in their eagerness to touch noses. Now if only Foampaw was a warrior and Brightpaw was a caretaker. Their mentors would have been good influences then. 

“Now Wolverinekit,” Downstar sighed, focusing on the youngest and fluffiest of the litter. “You have yet to tell me what path your paws wish to follow. As such, I will place you as a warrior apprentice, and you may change this path if you feel called to do so at any time. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Downstar,” Wolverinekit said. Estherfern tensed. Why was her confident, curious daughter unsure what to train as? It was her vision, Estherfern was sure of it. She felt insecure in her skills, she had to. How could she not? There had to be a way to cure her vision, no matter what anyone else said. Estherfern would find that cure.

“Then from this moment on, until you receive your warrior name,” Downstar declared, “you shall be known as Wolverinepaw. Leathermask shall be your mentor.” The Clan began to cheer before Leathermask even got close to Wolverinepaw.

“Thunderpaw! Boughpaw! Brightpaw! Foampaw! Wolverinepaw!” What a long chant! It seemed undignified for a priestess to raise her voice like everyone else. Still, her children deserved the honor. Estherfern yowled along with her Clanmates as her five kits beamed in the praise. 

“Can we all train together?” Thunderpaw asked, gently pawing Drumtooth’s shoulder. “Can we go see Battle Beach?” Wolverinepaw and Foampaw’s eyes glinted at the idea. 

“Maybe we should get you all settled in the apprentice’s den first,” Oilstripe suggested. “It’s almost sunhigh. We might as well make sure you all have a place to sleep, considering how little room there is in there.”

“I’m making my nest next to Vervainpaw!” Foampaw yowled. She charged across camp, ignoring Estherfern entirely.

“I already said I’m sleeping next to her!” Wolverinepaw huffed, running after her sister. The other cats trailed after the excited mollies, accepting the congratulations of their Clanmates as they passed. However, only four apprentices headed for the apprentice’s den. Brightpaw whispered something in Trumpetspore’s ear. Trumpetspore listened intently and nodded. Brightpaw scurried off toward the warrior’s den. Now what was so important that Brightpaw would run away as soon as his ceremony was over?

Estherfern trailed through the dissipating crowds after her only son. Brightpaw paused at the edge of the den, looking in and out. Estherfern paused outside the artisan’s supply den, pretending to nibble an itch on her paw. Spikecrash padded to the warrior’s den with a big yawn. From the corner of her eye, Estherfern saw Brightpaw paw at Spikecrash before she could enter. She turned her ear to the conversation.

“That was horrible,” Brightpaw gulped. “I thought you said the ceremony wouldn’t be bad!”

“It wasn’t, I promise,” Spikecrash insisted, tail to Brightpaw’s shoulder. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“My heart makes me more scared than I need to be around others,” Brightpaw muttered, head sinking, “but I need to trust my heart too, don’t I?”

“Social anxiety can be a deceitful disorder of the mind, Brightpaw,” Spikecrash said. “When it comes to these moments, your heart wants to run away, but just remember, you don’t have to. Whatever you may think, it’s not what everyone else thinks. Try to remember that the next time you have to talk to a lot of cats.” 

Social anxiety? Now what was that? Estherfern had never heard of a disorder of the mind before. She knew mediators dealt with those sorts of issues, but she had dismissed them as simple emotional problems. Was Brightpaw sick? How long had he been talking to Spikecrash? Why had he not told Estherfern what was wrong? Another kit of hers, sick, set apart from the Clan, placed at disadvantage…

Estherfern would not stand for this.

(Downstar: 133, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Estherfern: 108, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Brightpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Wolverinepaw: 6, female, warrior apprentice, compassionate, always asking questions)

(Foampaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, troublesome, always wandering)

(Thunderpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, adventurous, moss-ball hunter)

(Boughpaw: 6, female, historian apprentice, righteous, constantly climbing)

(Drumtooth: 22, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Oilstripe: 78, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Trumpetspore: 35, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

(Mosspounce: 35, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Leathermask: 22, male, warrior, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

(Spikecrash: 49, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

Stormkit is worried about Lightningkit, who whimpers in her sleep.

[Image ID: Stormkit approaches Lightningkit, asking "Lightningkit?"]

---

The nursery was so different from the one Stormkit saw in her earliest memories. That nursery had been so packed with kits and queens, there was barely any room to move come nightfall! But now, with Estherfern’s litter in the now stuffed apprentice’s den, only two nests remained. Stormkit was getting too big to sleep with her father and littermates in the same nest, but she stayed close to the warmth of Waspdawn’s chest regardless, at peace with the weight of his chin on her back.

She wasn’t sure what woke her up at first. Her droopy eyes took a while to adjust to the dark and empty den. Sandkit and Yellowkit were thrown on top of each other, lost in their dreams. Waspdawn breathed slowly, his escaping breath tickling Stormkit’s fur. Their nest was a dark golden blur in the deep shadow. Puddlewhisper slept in the back of the den with Lightningkit and Cobaltkit. She, her siblings, and James took turns sleeping with Lightningkit and Cobaltkit in the nursery ever since Weedfoot left camp and returned as still and limp as Littlekit had once been. Whatever woke Stormkit, the noise came from the back of the den.

Stormkit pulled herself out from under Waspdawn’s chin. His head plunked into the nest. Stormkit froze, waiting for Waspdawn to wake up, but he remained asleep, breath now fiddling with the loose moss at the nest’s edge. Stormkit crawled out of the nest and peered deeper into the nursery. A tiny whimper caught her ear. 

“Lightningkit?” Stormkit whispered. Deep blue eyes burst to life at Puddlewhisper’s side. Really, did neither adult hear her denmate’s cries? 

“Huh?” Lightningkit gulped with a crack in her voice. “Stormkit?”

“Were you crying?” Stormkit asked. She snuck closer to the long-furred kit. Cobaltkit and Puddlewhisper were still deeply asleep, but Lightningkit, tucked by Puddlewhisper’s leg, blinked sleep from her eyes.

“Was I?” Lightningkit mumbled. “Sorry.” She rubbed her face in her nest.

“Are you alright?” Stormkit asked. She sat at the edge of the nest, studying her kin’s dark face.

“Maybe,” Lightningkit said. “I… think I was dreaming about my mom.” Her voice quivered and her whiskers shivered. “I thought Puddlewhisper was her for a moment. I really wish she was here.” Stormkit licked Lightningkit’s shoulder. She gently nuzzled the red molly.

“I wish I could bring her back for you,” Stormkit mumbled. 

“It’s too quiet in here,” Lightningkit gulped, no longer able to keep her sorrow from her words. She pressed into Stormkit with another whimper.

“Puddlewhisper and my dad won’t be too mad if we walk around camp,” Stormkit suggested, pulling her face out of the mess of Lightningkit’s long fur. “Let’s walk around.” She gently nipped Lightningkit’s paw, pulling her out of the nest. Lightningkit swallowed hard. She crawled away from Cobaltkit and Puddlewhisper. Stormkit leaned against Lightningkit, nudging her onwards. The two crept out of the dark nursery and into the camp clearing, dimly lit by a small fire.

It wouldn’t fill the nursery again, or the gaps in either molly’s lives, but it would help a bit. It was the best two kits could do for one another.

(Stormkit: 5, female, kit, know-it-all, loves to eat)

(Waspdawn: 40, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Lightningkit: 4, female, kit, self-conscious, always wandering)

Anchovypaw gets lost on patrol.

[Image ID: Anchovypaw is lost.]

---

Anchovypaw was not lost. He just wasn’t sure which part of the forest he was in. When you’re focused on the hunt, the trees all start to look the same! It wasn’t Anchovypaw’s fault. He was trying to feed his Clan! Still, the smell of autumn consumed his path from Halibutdusk and the rest of the hunting patrol. All he could smell were sharp orange leaves and the two dead mice in his jaws.

Anchovypaw set the mice at his paws and called, “Halibutdusk? Splashtuft? Billowpaw?” All he received in return was a flutter of leaves dancing overhead. One landed on top of his head. He chuckled and batted the leaf off. Alright then! If he couldn’t call out to his patrol, he would just go home. The camp was by the ocean; if Anchovypaw kept walking east, he would eventually hit the beach and would find his way back to camp in no time at all. Besides, being alone meant…

Anchovypaw pounced on a fat oak leaf. The crunch sent glee pounding through his pelt. He purred and wiggled his flank, no longer caring about the proper hunter’s crouch. He pounced on a pile of leaves blown into the crook of a thick trunk. He purred harder with each crack and crinkle. He rolled in the leaves, closing his eyes and enjoying the dappled light creating strange shadows on his eyelids.

Anchovypaw rested his head on the leaves and stared out at the mix of green, orange, and red that was the forest of RippleClan. Autumn was by far the best season to wash over the territories. Maybe he could convince Weevilpaw and Wolfpaw to sneak out and jump in the leaves. Except… no. It wasn’t safe to be out alone. No one else had been able to see the ichor covering Downstar as Rapidleaf carried her into camp, mixing with her blood. Not everyone understood what it meant for such danger to stain the walls of camp. Too many remembered the Shardling’s wild yellow eyes tearing into the nursery.

Anchovypaw hurried to his feet, the leaves scattering around him. Halibutdusk was likely getting nervous. No matter how much Anchovypaw wanted to enjoy the beautiful, cool day, he had to get home, for everyone’s sake. Yet as he reached for his mice, something black caught his eye. It had been hidden underneath the leaves at first, but now it absorbed the dappled light in the shape of a blurred paw print. The paw print was made of ichor.

Anchovypaw cleared away the leaves. He slapped and smacked them to the side, using his tail to clear as many as he could. He found three more ichor-stained paw prints under the leaves. They pointed toward the unseen ocean, but were thicker going the other way. The first paw print Anchovypaw found was the farthest along the stranger’s path, with only the slightest stain of ichor telling Anchovypaw what had happened. There was no way to know just where they were going, if they were heading for camp or somewhere else… but Anchovypaw could figure out where the paw prints came from. He had to. For his friends. For his siblings. For Robinkit and his mother.

Picking his mice back up, Anchovypaw traced the paw prints through the leaves and litter. He slowly followed the trail backwards, brushing aside leaves as he went. The trail looped around pines and firs, as though enjoying a humble stroll. But nothing that left paw prints like these could be considered humble.

The ichor pooled at the edge of a dark den dug under the weak roots of a thin tree. Anchovypaw took a deep breath, but could not smell anyone inside the den. All he smelled were herbs. Creeping around the thick paw prints, Anchovypaw peered inside the den.

A mushroom circle filled the interior of the den. Anchovypaw might have thought it natural at first glance, but each mushroom had been plucked, dried, and carefully placed within the den. A strange green poultice filled the holes in between the mushrooms. Anchovypaw couldn’t tell what herbs were used, but it reminded him of chats with Weevilpaw in the medicine den. The black ichor dripped out of the heart of the circle and into the dip near the den’s entrance. Someone made this strange circle, but who? Whoever left the ichor behind, Anchovypaw was the only one who could get rid of it. He would show the clerics, Weevilpaw, and Wolfpaw the den, but first, he had to handle the threat. This time, he’d be the one to defeat it. It was his gift to bring the things to life. It was his responsibility.

Anchovypaw set his mice aside and peered at the puddle of ichor. He could already taste it. It hadn’t been too long since the Shardling stampeded through the nursery, but in that moment, Anchovypaw felt both five moons and five hundred moons old, the tragedy both a day and a thousand days in the past. Anchovypaw dipped his muzzle into the ichor pool and grabbed hold. 

The ichor pulled from the pool like flesh ripped from prey. This time around, Anchovypaw could keep his feet firmly planted as the supernatural goop dragged itself out of the circle, collecting in Anchovypaw’s jaws. He braced himself as the Dark Forest energy manifested in his grasp. It was the size of an apprentice, only slightly smaller than himself. But the size didn’t matter. Anchovypaw would deal with it.

As the manifestation opened its red eyes, forming feline ears and a sharp, swishing tail, Anchovypaw threw it to the grass. The beast was only prey to him; dangerous prey that had to be snuffed out like a dying fire. Anchovypaw dug his teeth into the spirit’s throat. It screeched and gurgled like bubbling mud. Anchovypaw stood on its flank and pushed down, biting harder and harder. The creature clawed at Anchovypaw’s pelt, taking out chunks of brown and white fur. Anchovypaw dug his claws in in return. The ichor pooled between his pads. 

Anchovypaw didn’t let go until the creature dissolved into nothing but dripping goop, leaking like salt water from the apprentice’s bared jaws. All that remained was a small pile of ichor, sloshing like wet clay. Anchovypaw sat beside it, panting and gagging on the taste. StarClan, he hated that part. Whatever energy remained over the strange den, it was gone. 

But how did it get there in the first place?

(Anchovypaw: 9, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

Estherfern senses a presence on patrol.

[Image ID: Estherfern sees the ghost of Harvest. Under Estherfern, it says + GUIDANCE FROM STARCLAN: BEWARE (PROPHECY).]

---

Estherfern rarely got moments alone when she lived with the cat-minded human. That den had been so packed and chaotic, she considered anything that didn’t hurt to be a blessing. But when she did get time to herself, when she could quiet her mind, the realms of the spiritual opened to her. That’s what made her so good at connecting with the afterlife of the Clans, how she won the admiration of the other clerics despite her disdain for medicine, how she found security. She was good at it.

So why were her prayers unanswered now?

“This should fix it,” Estherfern grumbled as she rubbed the earthy poultice in the gaps of the mushroom circle. The poultice had dried up the last time Estherfern visited her private den; that was likely why she was met with silence on her last visit. Either that, or her offering had been unsuited for her guest. A little trial and error was to be expected; there was only so much she could ask Terracottafoot about these summoning rituals without raising the odd cleric’s suspicion. The rest of it was pieced together from Troutpool and Honeybuzz’s lessons on channeling StarClan spirits (a ritual Estherfern hoped to see in practice sooner rather than later).

Estherfern rubbed the last of the fresh poultice into the dirt and licked her paw clean. She stepped out of the den and grabbed her new offering; a tuft of Lightningkit’s fur, plucked from her nest while the kit played with her sister. Sure, Estherfern’s earlier attempts had been partial successes, but she had yet to have a full conversation. She had only managed to recreate a pool of that strange ichor that peeled off Rattlepelt’s skin moons ago, but that splashed and rolled deep into the forest before she could do anymore. Perhaps Estherfern shouldn’t have focused on stories of a long-dead cleric, but heeded one of Oilstripe’s stories; a tale of a father who would do anything for his kits. Perhaps this approach, with this offering and Estherfern’s earnesty, would prove successful.

“I call upon the spirit of Hawthornstealer,” Estherfern said as she placed the offering inside the circle, “banished from StarClan for his disastrous pursuit of his offspring’s legacy. Despite your sins, your assistance is required. Return to the Clans, if only for a moment. Speak to us.” Estherfern sat at the edge of the circle and closed her eyes. The summer sun beat onto her spiky pelt and lulled her mind. She kept her ears pricked, waiting for the sound of bubbling mud.

“Estherfern!” The brown cleric jumped, her head smacking into the ceiling of her makeshift den. She turned, slightly dazed. The sun crowned a brown and white figure outside the den. Glowing white eyes glared through Estherfern. Starlight sparkled and shifted across the figure’s pelt. Estherfern had not known her for long, but she couldn’t forget Harvest and the fury which she fought for her kits. A fury that was now turned to Estherfern.

“Beware, Estherfern!” Harvest yowled. Unfelt wind buffeted her pelt. Estherfern’s spine curled. “The spread of spores produces nothing but decay! They grow not in light, but darkness! A path without sight, without sound, heart pushing out of your chest, is a blessing compared to the fate that awaits the rot!”

And with that, she disappeared. The wind stirred Estherfern’s heart in the dead queen’s absence.

(Estherfern: 108, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Harvest: 58, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

[rippleclan]

I love how spiky the Esther family is.

If you told me James found a newborn kit and snuck it into Weedfoot’s nest, I would believe you- AND THEIR NAME IS COBALT- I know that’s a metal but isn’t that also like- blue?

Guys is James colorblind?

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 75

Yellowpaw, Sandpaw, and Stormpaw are apprenticed to Asterblaze, Spikecrash, and Clammask.

[Image ID: Yellowpaw, Sandpaw, and Stormpaw are apprentices. Sandpaw says, "Do you think Thunderpaw is impressed?" Under Yellowpaw, it says LEVEL UP! YELLOWKIT → YELLOWPAW, NOISY → COLD. Under Sandpaw, it says LEVEL UP! SANDKIT → SANDPAW, SELF-CONSCIOUS → LOYAL. Under Stormpaw, it says LEVEL UP! STORMKIT → STORMPAW, KNOW-IT-ALL → CHARISMATIC.]

(Yellowpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, cold, quick to make peace)

(Sandpaw: 6, male, mediator apprentice, loyal, interested in Clan history)

(Stormpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, loves to eat)

Honeybuzz helps the three star-blessed apprentices.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Weevilpaw, Wolfpaw, and Anchovypaw watch Estherfern talk with a Dark Forest spirit. Under Honeybuzz, it says + NEW SKILL: GOOD TEACHER.]

---

Honeybuzz cupped his paw around one of the many plucked mushrooms that formed the unholy circle. He sniffed at the herbal mixture that sealed the pickings together. A few strands of black and red fur clung to the wet earth that lined the edges of the muddy den. The constant rain of the last four days made the ground slick and sent water dripping from the root-lined ceiling. Anchovypaw, Wolfpaw, and Weevilpaw stood outside the den, heads close together as they peered inside. The rain glued their pelts to their skin.

“And you’ve known about this for how long, Anchovypaw?” Honeybuzz asked. He absently batted at his wooden necklace, the freshly plucked cicada wing glistening with raindrops. He pointedly sat outside of the circle, mud sinking into his thin fur.

“Only a few days,” Anchovypaw admitted. “I didn’t want to say anything until I could come back here, but there’s even more ichor here than there was when I first found the den.”

“You should have told us sooner,” Weevilpaw huffed with a glare so sharp that, had she had her sister’s ability, Anchovypaw would have frozen stiff.

“I wasn’t going to scare anyone if I didn’t have to!” Anchovypaw huffed. A sharp flick of his tail sent a stream of water flying over Weevilpaw and Wolfpaw’s backs. “It could have just been where the beast that killed Weedfoot went to die. I only waited a few days! It took me that long to get away from Halibutdusk!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Honeybuzz promised. He squeezed around the apprentices, squinting as the rain splashed his eyes.

“Now we know someone else has been here,” Wolfpaw pointed out. 

“What is it, Honeybuzz?” Weevilpaw asked. She moved further into the den, eyes locked on the circle.

“You remember my lessons on channeling StarClan?” Honeybuzz said, shivering. “It exhausts power StarClan wasn’t planning to use, but the immediate and physical communication can justify an absence of subtle signs and assistance.”

“But we don’t use mushrooms,” Weevilpaw said. She poked at a mushroom, making it roll out of its spot. “We form a circle of cats, not plants.”

“But do you remember when you met Terracottafoot?” Honeybuzz sighed. “I asked them to tell you about last Harvest Moon, and some of their knowledge of the Dark Forest. Newtstream, their mentor, taught them about channeling Dark Forest spirits using a circle of mushrooms.”

“Someone’s summoning Spirits of Shadow,” Wolfpaw gulped.

“Who would be that mouse-brained?” Anchovypaw growled. His claws left gouges in the mud. “We all remember the Shardling. Who would want to bring something like that back?” Anchovypaw looked like he was going to be sick. Wolfpaw rubbed against Anchovypaw’s side. “You were right, Weevilpaw. I should have destroyed this den as soon as I found it.”

“Then they would have made another one,” Honeybuzz pointed out. “No, we need to find a trusted warrior to watch this den. They can wait until the culprit visits again. Waspdawn or Puddlewhisper would do well. I trust them.” Weevilpaw’s soaked fur prickled. Her eyes widened, locked on something Honeybuzz couldn’t see. Her mouth dropped slightly, breath catching. 

“Out, out!” Weevilpaw hissed, lunging past Wolfpaw. She scrambled into a thick bush, still bursting with summer life. Wolfpaw and Anchovypaw were instantly at her side, following her into the shadows. Honeybuzz stumbled in after them, sharp branches poking his ribs.

“Who did you see?” Anchovypaw whispered just as the shrubbery on the other side of the dark den shifted. Bicolored eyes glimmered through the mid-morning haze.

“Estherfern?” Honeybuzz gasped as the older cleric stepped into full view. Estherfern carried a ball of fur in her jaws, the same red and black colors Honeybuzz found in the strange den. Her fur on her cheeks drooped like heavy leaves. She strolled into the shadows, ignorant to her spies.

“The Shardling almost killed her kits,” Anchovypaw growled, his rage making the leaves shake. “Why would she deal with the Dark Forest?”

“Keep listening,” Wolfpaw whispered. “We might find out.” Estherfern placed the furballs in the center of the circle. Her cool gaze settled on Weevilpaw’s disturbed mushroom. Honeybuzz grit his teeth. Estherfern carefully nudged the mushroom back into its original position. She sat in the den’s entrance, back to Honeybuzz and the apprentices.

Estherfern declared, “I call upon the spirit of Hawthornstealer, banished from StarClan for murder in the name of his kits. Despite your sins, your assistance is required. Return to the Clans, if only for a moment. Speak to us.”

“Do you see that?” Anchovypaw whispered, pressing into Weevilpaw. “Do you see that?” Honeybuzz squinted. The circle was still. Suddenly, Weevilpaw gasped. She bit into her paw to muffle her shock. Honeybuzz braced his heart for whatever the star-blessed apprentices saw.

It began as a shift in the mud, like water in a pot at the first stages of boiling. The ground around the fur offering darkened. Black sludge bubbled out of the mud and lapped up the fur balls like medicine. The sound of its formation reminded Honeybuzz of paws trapped in thick gunk, pulling out of the mess with a sucking slurp. It leaked from under the mushrooms and collected in the circle’s center. The ichor pulled itself upward like drops of water falling from the ceiling, perverting the pull of the earth. A subtle red glow illuminated the den.

“It’s finally working,” Estherfern gasped as the ichor took shape. It lifted itself high like a cat arching their back. It clung to the ground at four points that slowly took on the details of paws. A claw-like tail sprouted from its back. The ichor bubbled and bulged into a muzzle. Two glowing red eyes erupted from the spirit’s face. StarClan help them all.

“So you are Estherfern,” the spirit said. Its voice was as sticky as the mud from which it was born, dissolving into the sound of the tumbling rain.

“Hawthornstealer?” Estherfern asked. The spirit blinked slowly, its eyelids like a mudslide. 

“Why do you call?” the spirit groaned.

“Oilstripe and Lavendertwist told me your story,” Estherfern explained. She inched closer, back still stuck in the rain. “You killed an elder to ensure more food for your kits in a famine. You would have done anything for them. StarClan doesn’t seem to have the power I need. I’m hoping you can help.”

“Explain.”

“My kits are sick, and RippleClan can do nothing to help them. One of my daughters is going deaf, the other is half-blind. And now my only son has issues of the head, issues the mediators are simply bandaging, not fixing.” Was she talking about Brightpaw? Spikecrash had asked Honeybuzz and Troutpool about any relaxing herbs the young tom could take before the Gathering, something to ease the panic that overtook him when too many cats surrounded him. It was manageable. There was no need to resort to such extremes.

“You are searching for a cure.”

“I can’t let them struggle like this. How can I fix them?” The spirit stared at Estherfern silently, the rainfall burning into the background of Honeybuzz’s mind. The only sign of un-life in the spirit rested in its long, slow blinking. Even Estherfern, collected as she was, twitched under the spirit’s unending, blank stare.

“I…,” Anchovypaw whispered, “I don’t think that’s the ghost of Hawthornstealer.”

“Why not?” Wolfpaw whimpered.

“It’s too empty,” Anchovypaw groaned, struggling to find the right word. “Weedfoot’s stories said Dark Forest ghosts looked like themselves. Even the Shardling looked a little like Autumnstar, isn’t that what Downstar told us? This thing doesn’t look like anyone. It looks like a shadow."

“We may have the power,” the spirit finally coughed through its thick ichor. “We need help.”

“That’s what I expected,” Estherfern sighed. “What sort of ritual do I need to perform? Is there another spirit I should talk to?”

“Your children were destined to develop these afflictions,” the spirit gurgled. “Their destinies must be replaced. Replaced with another’s.”

“Elaborate.” 

“The eyes of the clear sighted.” The spirit’s red eyes shone like a flickering fire. “The ears of the cautious listener.” Its pointed ears flicked, their first movement since the spirit’s arrival. “The tongue of the charmed.” Its black teeth peered out from muddy lips. “Three sacrifices. Three kits.” Estherfern stilled. Honeybuzz’s heart sank. Despite her standoffishness, despite her argumentativeness, Estherfern was part of the Clan, her kits were part of the Clan. How could she throw that away to fix what didn’t, what couldn’t be fixed?

“We’ll stop her before she begins,” Anchovypaw growled, inching a paw out of hiding. StarClan asked for Estherfern. Why would they send for her if she could be swayed like this?

“Offer the dead—”

“No.” All four hidden cats perked their ears high. Estherfern stood, tail rippling slowly as she stared the spirit down. The spirit, to Honeybuzz’s continued shock, flinched.

“No?” the spirit spat.

“What do you take me for?” Estherfern scoffed. “You think I’m so blindly devoted to a cure that you can turn me into a murderer? A sadist for the sake of my children?”

“You want them cured,” the spirit growled. Its paw lingered at the edge of the circle. “This is how you cure them.”

“And what happens when I do?” Estherfern asked, tilting one ear in a shocking taunt. “I know how your land works, the rules of your afterlife. They will go to StarClan some day and learn what I did for them, if they do not find out in life. They will despise me for what I have done.”

“But they will be cured.”

“Furthermore, I know the creatures that inhabit your Dark Forest.” Estherfern walked around the circle like a hunter. The spirit never turned its head, face stuck in a sneer. “It is the home of murderers and scoundrels. I would surely arrive there after my own death were I to kill three innocents for you. You would condemn me to eternity without my children.”

“You’ve already been damned, Estherfern. You brought forth the Skin N’ Bones that slew your deputy. You are the cause of your Clan’s suffering. Do you believe StarClan will forgive you for that?” A Skin N’ Bones. Of course. Nothing else would have injured Downstar like that. Nothing else would have devoured Weedfoot alive. Estherfern stopped. The calculated and callous look that always hung in her eyes cracked. Honeybuzz could almost see Estherfern’s soul drop. “Why give up now? You’re too far gone. Your children are not. Why summon us if you were not willing to do whatever it took to fix your kits?”

“I will not have them hate me!” Estherfern rounded on the spirit, lips curled tight. “I will not have them curse my name!” She shook her head low. “I will find a different cure for them. I will find another way. I send you back, spirit, back to your dark wanderings, where StarClan’s light does not reach.” Estherfern reached for one of the mushrooms. Her paw breached the circle.

“No!” The spirit dug its fangs into Estherfern’s paw. Ichor dripped into her fresh wound. She pulled back, ripping more of her skin in the process. 

“I respect what you did for your kits, Hawthornstealer,” Estherfern hissed, licking her paw. “I realize now, however, that where you could put aside your kits’ emotions for their futures, I cannot.”

“We,” the spirit growled, voice dissolving, “are not Hawthornstealer.” 

The spirit’s legs melted like snow. Its form dissolved and splashed about in a massive sticky pool. One by one, the mushrooms rolled into the ichor and vanished under the writhing mass as though falling into a great black hole. The ichor bubbled and squirmed as though in a death rattle. It leaked from the confines of the circle and coated the den floor. Estherfern backed up, back paws slipping on the soaked grass.

Weevilpaw raced out of the bush before Honeybuzz could react. She threw her full weight into Estherfern’s side. The two clerics tumbled into the shrubs. In that moment, the ichor exploded. It sprayed the walls of the dirt den and shot into the rain in an endless cascade. More ichor escaped the den than could have possibly made up the spirit in the circle. As it flew into the forest, large clumps tumbled to the side like wayward drops from a massive wave. The glops tumbled and sloshed against the wet ground before launching through the trees and out of sight. More and more of these glops scrambled away until finally, finally, the spray slowed. A long black trail led out of the den, which was now nothing but ichor and goop. 

Honeybuzz, Anchovypaw, and Wolfpaw crept out of hiding as Weevilpaw got off Estherfern. Mud coated half of her brown pelt. The ichor stunk like rotting flesh and mushrooms.

“How long have you been there?” Estherfern asked, slow to her paws.

“Wolfpaw, you might have to freeze me,” Anchovypaw growled, claws out. “I’m a whisker’s length from killing her.”

“Anchovypaw, no!” Weevilpaw stood in front of Estherfern, paws skidding. “She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She was trying to help her kits. We can’t blame her for that!”

“But the Dark Forest…” Wolfpaw gulped. With the puff in her fur dissolved in the rain, she seemed half her size.

“It is full of dead cats, not unlike StarClan,” Estherfern huffed. She stepped around Weevilpaw and faced down the furious crowd. “All I wanted was a way to cure my kits, something you’ve shown you cannot do.”

“Estherfern, you weren’t talking to a dead warrior,” Honeybuzz groaned, almost stepping on the ichor trail. “That was a Herald. Their entire purpose is to trick the living into allowing Spirits of Shadow into the territories.” His gaze lingered on the forest. He could almost hear the half-formed monsters slurping across the grass, taking their true, cursed forms.

“You heard her!” Weevilpaw huffed. “She wasn’t going to listen to the spirit. She was going to destroy the circle.”

“She didn’t commit murder,” Anchovypaw scoffed. “You did well, Estherfern. You did the bare minimum.”

“Is it your fault?” Wolfpaw muttered, voice almost lost in the rain. “Did you get Weedfoot killed?” Estherfern stared into the ichor-soaked den. 

“I didn’t know,” she said softly. 

“She didn’t know, Anchovypaw,” Weevilpaw snapped. “She’s a good cat!”

“She didn’t care about killing anyone, she cared about what her kits would think,” Anchovypaw growled. “How can we trust a cleric who doesn’t care if you live or die?”

“I trust her,” Weevilpaw huffed, pressing into Estherfern. “Even though she’s strange.”

“Weevilpaw,” Honeybuzz sighed, jumping over the ichor, “take Anchovypaw and Wolfpaw and go back to camp. Just go to the medicine den and wait for us.” 

“What are we going to do with her?” Anchovypaw asked.

“Leave that to me,” Honeybuzz said, shaking his head. “Now go. Stick together, and hurry. We’ll follow you soon.” The apprentices hesitated, all glancing at one another. Weevilpaw was the first to break; she joined Wolfpaw and nudged her onward. The sisters ran toward the coast. Anchovypaw followed, his burning eyes digging into Estherfern as he vanished into the foggy trees.

“It seems I underestimated the vigor of the Dark Forest’s supernatural entities,” Estherfern hummed, cleaning the mud off her injured paw.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Honeybuzz hissed softly.

“Of course I do,” Estherfern snapped, curling her lips. “You love to tell the story of the Rippling Ashes. They ventured into the Dark Forest, they had Newtstream’s advice. What made my own approach so wicked?”

“Because it’s dangerous!” Honeybuzz groaned. “Because channeling Dark Forest souls, even when they want to help, clears a path for Spirits of Shadow, and they don’t care about any of us. They’re born to hunt. This isn’t worth it.”

“If your kits were sick, wouldn’t you do what you could for them?” Estherfern growled with a large thrash of her tail. “You can’t fix them. I thought the Dark Forest could.”

“They don’t need to be fixed!” Honeybuzz yowled, throwing his whole height up to glare down at Estherfern (who, unlike Rapidleaf, would not cower). “They aren’t dying, Estherfern! They can adapt! I’m sorry I can’t cure Thunderkit or stop Brightpaw’s anxiety, but they’ll be fine!” As Honeybuzz yowled, the first crack appeared in the sky, striking through the gray clouds. Thunder echoed far overhead. Estherfern stared at the growing storm.

“What’s out there now, do you think?” Estherfern sighed.

“Dog-cats, forsaken prey, honeybites…” Honeybuzz muttered, spine itching. “There may even be monsters we rarely see, ones we don’t have names for. We don’t want to know everything that’s out there now.”

“This is something we can fix,” Estherfern huffed. She marched around Honeybuzz and stood on the roof of the wicked den. Jaw tight as her bit paw moved, Estherfern dug at the soaked grass. Her pelt was more mud than fur. Chunks of earth tumbled into the den. The sopping ground folded in on itself like a wave. Estherfern rolled away as the roof of the den fell and covered the sticky, stinking ichor. Grass stuck to Estherfern’s underside. Honeybuzz hurried to her, helping her away from the crumbled remains of her sins.

“We can,” Honeybuzz gulped. “We can fix this.”

(Honeybuzz: 23, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Anchovypaw: 10, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

(Weevilpaw: 10, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfpaw: 10, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Estherfern: 109, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

Sandpaw and Spikecrash arrange time for Estherfern to see the kits she worked so hard to “fix”.

[Image ID: Estherfern faces Thunderpaw, Wolverinepaw, and Brightpaw.]

---

Estherfern didn’t belong at such a lively celebration. The sumptuous food, the well-rehearsed performances… Harvest Moon was as grand as RippleClan claimed it to be. Every Clan gathered as the sunrise poked through the trees, preparing their stews and games and performances. But it was a holiday to drive off Spirits of Shadow. What good would it do to have their herald nestled in the safety of the firelight?

“Spirits of Shadow hate charms,” Troutpool explained as she tucked a cat’s wood-carved face into the boughs of a low-hanging pine. “AshClan spends a lot of time carving these trinkets, and all that care under StarClan’s protections makes them especially useful in warding off danger.” All the clerics roamed the edge’s of the great clearing with baskets of charms and other concoctions to protect the five Clans. Estherfern carried RippleClan’s heavy basket as Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw prepared the defenses to Troutpool’s instruction.

“How many do we have to place?” Weevilpaw asked, shoving a charm as far into a bush as she could reach.

“We’re covering this entire corner,” Troutpool explained. “We don’t want to leave any openings for spirits.” Estherfern nearly broke the charm in her jaws with how tightly she grit her teeth. She quickly passed it to Honeybuzz.

“Estherfern!” Two figures slipped through the massive crowd. Spikecrash and Sandpaw walked side by side, mentor and apprentice in sync. Sandpaw’s gaze wandered throughout the clearing, taking in the sights of all five Clans for the first time.

“You want to speak to me?” Estherfern asked. While her tone made her question sound casual, the brown priestess hid her surprise deep. She didn’t talk to many cats outside of the medicine den. Why would two of the Clan’s mediators want her? Did they know the real reason why Honeybuzz reported a surge of spirits in the Clan? The reason it was too dangerous to leave camp alone? Why all five Clans, not just RippleClan, now had a newfound fear for their lives? Had Honeybuzz not lied for her, Estherfern would have told the truth and accepted the consequences, yet why he kept it secret, Estherfern didn’t know She glanced at Honeybuzz, but the young gold and white cleric focused on his charms.

“I’m hoping we can borrow you,” Spikecrash explained. “Troutpool, do you still need Estherfern’s help?”

“We’re just placing our wards at the moment,” Troutpool explained, reaching into Estherfern’s basket. “We could finish without her if you really need her.” Estherfern carefully slipped the basket off her neck.

“Thank you, Troutpool,” Spikecrash sighed. She flicked her tail for Estherfern to follow. It seemed no one cared if Estherfern actually wanted to speak with Spikecrash, but who was she to refuse? She trailed after Spikecrash and Sandpaw, heading over to the ovens. Clammask and Stormpaw worked with Drumtooth and Thunderpaw, laughing over an unheard joke as they tended the fire under a massive pot of stew.

“I hope this isn’t too much of an invasion of privacy,” Spikecrash began, her scarred flank lifted high in a long stretch. “Honeybuzz and Weevilpaw spoke with me a few days ago and said you were having some difficulties with your kits.” Estherfern narrowed her eyes.

“If we’re going to discuss my kits,” she sighed, “maybe you could tell me why no one told me about Brightpaw’s meetings with you?”

“So you do know about that,” Spikecrash sighed. “Brightpaw is an apprentice now, Estherfern. We aren’t pressured to tell you anything he didn’t want you to know.” 

“If he’s sick, I want to help him,” Estherfern huffed.

“Why do you think he didn’t want you to know?” Sandpaw scoffed. “Look how you acted with Wolverinepaw and Thunderpaw.” Oh if only he knew just what Estherfern had done for them. What the Dark Forest wanted her to do.

“I’ve only ever tried to help them overcome their own limitations,” Estherfern said, her sharp stare ricocheting off Sandpaw and muting his confident words.

“That’s why we wanted to show you a few things,” Spikecrash explained. She waved a paw toward the oven where Thunderpaw and the other RippleClan cats gathered.

“The only goal of tonight is to have a better stew than WheatClan,” Drumtooth explained, shooting a friendly sneer at WheatClan’s oven and their large pot. He licked the surface of the stew and smacked his jaws. “It’s good, but it’s missing something.” Thunderpaw copied her mentor. Her face squirmed, thinking hard. She then made a strange motion with her paws; balancing on her back legs, she brought her paws close to her mouth and wiggled them as they moved away.

“I know this one,” Stormpaw chirped, completely focused on Thunderpaw. “If the wiggles are the sea… seaweed! That’s seaweed!”

“Yes!” Thunderpaw squealed. The two young apprentices cheered and giggled at their success, bunting one another

“AshClan borrowed our basket of seaweed,” Clammask explained, nudging Thunderpaw. “Grab some for us.”

“Grab seaweed,” Thunderpaw laughed. She quickly swiped the air like she was dragging a mouse out of hiding, then made the ‘seaweed’ motion again. Stormpaw mimicked the dragging motion as Thunderpaw hurried to AshClan’s oven.

“Why is Stormpaw learning Clan-sign?” Estherfern asked her mediator companions.

“Because Thunderpaw’s teaching her,” Sandpaw chirped. “Whenever Thunderpaw gets back from her sign lessons with Mummichogleap, she practices with us apprentices. Most of us are learning a few words so Thunderpaw isn’t left out.”

“And you want to learn?” 

“Thunderpaw makes it fun!”

“You can’t expect the whole Clan to learn this second language.”

“No one does.” Spikecrash touched her tail to Estherfern’s shoulder.. “But there are cats who want to make the effort. They can translate for those who don’t know. It puts pressure off Thunderpaw. She can miss what someone said, but she’ll have friends and family who can let her know.” Thunderpaw trotted back to the oven with a few long strips of seaweed. Clammask tore the seaweed into stew-sized chunks, showing the apprentices how to curl their paws just right. Thunderpaw seemed… happy.

“Now if you’ll follow us over here…” Sandpaw purred, strolling around the Leader’s Stone. Estherfern followed, tail a bit higher than before.

Brightpaw, Ravenpaw, and Vervainpaw sat with a gaggle of apprentices from the other Clans. They lounged about, chatting and laughing. Brightpaw nodded along to an apprentice’s story, his flank stretched out like frog legs. Ravenpaw relaxed on top of him, oohing and awing over the tale.

“I don’t know what your birth place thought of disorders of the mind,” Spikecrash whispered, brushing against Estherfern once more, “but like most disabilities, you can learn to live with them. There was a great gathering of warriors and codekeepers here at the new moon, do you remember? Brightpaw managed to befriend these apprentices during the visit. They invited their friends and littermates to chat today, and Brightpaw is happy to spend time with them. His mind is likely lying to him right now, but he knows ways to manage that. He could overcome his anxiety naturally some day, but that’s a minor part of who he is.”

“I know that,” Estherfern huffed. “He loves to play with Rabbitjoy’s paint supplies. He’s sensitive, and loves his sisters with all his heart. I’ve only ever wanted to help those traits shine.”

“That’s not how Brightpaw sees it,” Sandpaw scoffed under his breath. The comment hollowed out Estherfern’s chest. Before she could respond, two brown blurs shot past the Leader’s Stone with a horde of apprentices and young warriors at their tails. Wolverinepaw and Yarrowpaw led the crowd to an open spot within the festivities. They studied their followers like leader and deputy, the sunrise framing their profiles.

“We’ve got until after sunhigh to prepare!” Wolverinepaw cheered. 

“Are we going to let some dusty old bones beat us?” Yarrowpaw cried.

“No!” the young crowd yowled joyfully, already shoving and jumping over each other.

“Let’s show them what the new generation can do!” Wolverinepaw called. Her followers cheered, yowling to the high branches. They scattered throughout the clearing and split into sparring groups. They steadied their stances and wiggled their flanks. With sheathed paws, the youth of the Clans launched into training, trading blows and careful bites. Slushpaw lingered near the edge of the training grounds, cheering the others on.

“Slushpaw!” Sandpaw yowled to the older mediator apprentice. “What are they doing?”

“Well,” Slushpaw laughed, trotting up to Sandpaw, Spikecrash, and Estherfern, “Yarrowpaw and Wolverinepaw were arguing with Darkkick and another old warrior about what was a better trait in a fight; youth or experience. Suddenly all these other cats started joining in, and now the senior warriors are going to have a big mock-battle with the apprentices, plus some warriors who haven’t attended a Harvest Moon before.”

“And Wolverinepaw’s participating in this?” Estherfern huffed. She searched for her daughter in the crowd. She found Wolverinepaw rolling about with Yarrowpaw in the middle of the mess. Yarrowpaw shoved Wolverinepaw’s head into the dirt. Wolverinepaw snapped her jaw around Yarrowpaw’s leg and pulled her onto her shoulder. Yarrowpaw laughed as Wolverinepaw took her place on top of the older apprentice.

"She's as capable as any apprentice her age," Spikecrash assured Estherfern.

"She seemed so insecure during her ceremony…" Estherfern muttered.

"Wolverinepaw?" Spikecrash chuckled. "I don't think so. From what I've heard, she thinks she's strong enough to take on an actual wolverine."

"She didn't choose a role in time, though," Estherfern pointed out.

"Because she wanted to do everything!" Slushpaw laughed. "I talked with her right up to her ceremony. She had a new role in mind every day!" Oh. Had Wolverinepaw's sight not come up at all? Surely her decaying vision would make it hard for her to fight. Yet she kept up with Yarrowpaw, tumbling across the clearing with abandon. Had Estherfern's kits always been so sure of themselves? Surely they wanted cures. How else could they survive in a world that showed no mercy to the weak? In the cat-minded human's den, if you couldn't match up to the others, you wouldn't eat. Three of Estherfern's brilliant kits would have died in that awful place. Except…they weren't there anymore, were they?

"Can I guess what's been going on?" Spikecrash asked. "You've been so focused on a cure in their future, you've ignored how they are in the present. When's the last time you talked to them about something, anything but their health? Have you talked to Foampaw or Boughpaw at all?" Estherfern glanced from one kit to another. Their faces glowed with holiday glee. Did they ever glow around Estherfern anymore? When was the last time she shared a meal with them?

"Spikecrash," Estherfern muttered, her pride burning her words, "I need you to teach me something."

A short time later, Estherfern approached Thunderpaw and the RippleClan stew. The bounties of the ocean danced in the broth, specially prepared for that oh so exciting celebration. Thunderpaw stared eagerly into the stew while Stormpaw and their mentors talked with other caretakers. She spotted her mother and her eyes grew big and calm, mimicking Estherfern's eternally serene expression. Estherfern's heart did not carry that serenity as she approached her bold daughter.

"Do you need…" Estherfern said hesitantly. She awkwardly sat on her hind legs. She held out one paw, pads down, and angled the other on top of it, claws out. Thunderpaw's eyes sparkled at the sign.

"Help," she whispered as Estherfern quickly returned to a natural position. Thunderpaw made the sign with ease, quickly hopping from her hind legs and back. She ogled Estherfern, her thoughts not caught up to reality.

"I want to spend time with you," Estherfern explained. It felt like someone carved her pelt off, leaving her exposed. "I want to share your stew with you and your littermates." Thunderpaw blinked slowly. It took her so long to reply, Estherfern was about to repeat herself, just in case her pounding heart muffled her words.

"Do you want to learn the sign for littermates while the stew finishes cooking?" Thunderpaw gulped. The tip of her tail twitched wildly as her earlier joy bloomed across her face once more.

"If it means time with you," Estherfern sighed.

(Estherfern: 109, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Troutpool: 36, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Weevilpaw: 10, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Honeybuzz: 23, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Spikecrash: 50, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Sandpaw: 6, male, mediator apprentice, loyal, interested in Clan history)

(Drumtooth: 23, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Thunderpaw: 7, female, caretaker apprentice,

(Stormpaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, loves to eat)

(Clammask: 69, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Brightpaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Wolverinepaw: 7, female, warrior apprentice, compassionate, always asking questions)

(Yarrowpaw: 10, female, warrior apprentice, thoughtful, stares at fire)

(Slushpaw: 11, female, mediator apprentice, wise, quick witted, bats at string)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 72

Wolverinekit doesn’t understand why everyone seems so far away and is sad to learn from Honeybuzz and Weevilpaw that her eyesight is failing.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Weevilpaw talk to Wolverinekit and Estherfern. Estherfern says,  “Well? Fix her.” Under Honeybuzz, it says LEVEL UP! CONSTANTLY FIDDLING WITH TOOLS -> SKILLED TOOLSMITH. Under Wolverinekit, it reads + PERMANENT CONDITION: FAILING EYESIGHT. Under Estherfern, it says - CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH.]

The anniversary of RippleClan was by far one of the greatest things Weevilpaw had seen in her short life. She had never imagined the world could be so warm back when she was a kit. The entire Clan, kits and elders and all in between, frolicked in the softer sands that lined the stunning ocean. If that day was meant to celebrate all RippleClan meant, it succeeded.

Tallowpaw chased Littlekit around the sand, both toms laughing and yowling their heads off. Rabbitjoy, Mitespark, Lavendertwist, and Potterypaw performed a show along the edge of the waves, depicting the war with AshClan and the loss of Downstar’s first life. Half the Clan watched them as they shared tongues and mused over their own memories of the events (Halibutdusk mused on the danger in romanticizing war while Clammask reminded her mate to just enjoy the show). Estherfern sat with her kits, probably giving them some grand speech on the God who brought her to RippleClan and the nature of StarClan (Weevilpaw understood she agreed to a life of spiritual discussion when she became an apprentice, but really, did Estherfern not know how to talk about anything else?). 

Weevilpaw, meanwhile, traipsed through the waves, purring whenever fresh foam slapped at her legs. Some of the petals that she stuck in her fur (ever since Troutpool put them in at the cleric’s meeting, a gentle reminder of RippleClan’s first cleric) drifted off into the ocean, but that was alright. Weevilpaw could always get more!

Off to the side of the festivities, past where James dipped Lightningkit and Cobaltkit in and out of the water, past where Downstar and Weedfoot laughed at the old father’s antics, Wildclaw and Rattlepelt gazed off into the glistening blue. Rattlepelt laid in the sand, but kept her head high, letting the light bounce off her eyes. The water soaked the tail of Rattlepelt’s fox pelt, but the artisan didn’t seem to mind. There was a softness to her posture that Weevilpaw had never seen. She couldn’t help but approach them.

“If this is what every anniversary is like,” Weevilpaw chirped, catching Wildclaw’s eyes first, “I never want it to end!” Weevilpaw hopped out of the water, shaking out her pelt. Petals drifted into the wet sand, which stuck tight to Weevilpaw’s dripping legs.

“My siblings and I were just kits during the first anniversary,” Wildclaw laughed. “All four of us pretended we were great whales hopping out of the water.” Wildclaw hopped over Rattlepelt as Weevilpaw approached. She leaned into Weevilpaw and added, “I asked Oilstripe earlier. We’ve got a lot of ghosts celebrating with us today.” Were Harvest and Robinkit in their numbers? 

Weevilpaw glanced toward Anchovypaw and his littermates. They were all talking with Rapidleaf, practicing some basic battle moves. Anchovypaw whipped around Currentpaw, batting and kicking his brother, utterly confident in his body. They seemed to be coping with their losses… still, did Anchovypaw struggle to look at Rattlepelt the same way Weevilpaw did? Did he hurt when he saw the bite marks on Rattlepelt’s shoulder, the scars yet to fade? Still, she was smart enough to know the true scars wouldn’t fade if they were ignored. 

A premonition of Rattlepelt stood out of her real body and strolled deeper into the crowd. Her pensive gaze steadied Weevilpaw’s nerves. She stood in the premonition’s path as it vanished. When the idea to leave came upon Rattlepelt, rather than an easy escape, she saw Weevilpaw before her.

“Are you keeping your wound clean?” Weevilpaw asked.

“I’ve been making sure she does,” Wildclaw promised.

“I don’t know when you became the responsible one,” Rattlepelt sighed, purring slightly at the way her mate stood tall.

“I’ve always been responsible,” Wildclaw insisted, once more taking a seat by Rattlepelt. “Just not in the way others consider responsible.”

“Weevilpaw’s father would say otherwise,” Rattlepelt scoffed. Wildclaw shoved the fox pelt’s head over Rattlepelt’s eyes. Rattlepelt laughed for the first time in Weevilpaw’s memory.

“I’m glad you’re doing better, I really am,” Weevilpaw sighed, swallowing the nerves that bit at her confidence. “You… seem more like the cat Honeybuzz told me about.”

“I feel more like myself,” Rattlepelt said, shoving the fox pelt back to its proper place. “When we tell the other Clans the truth, I’ll be sure to thank you and your friends publically. Thank you for stopping me.” 

“We just wanted to keep everyone safe,” Weevilpaw chuckled awkwardly. Downstar had asked all of RippleClan not to discuss the powers of the three kits for now, giving the other clerics time to figure out how exactly they possessed said abilities. Just having RippleClan ask about her strange, hard-to-trigger premonitions was overwhelming enough. Weevilpaw did her best to take the brunt of the hard work for Anchovypaw and Wolfpaw, but she couldn’t handle the curiosity of four more Clans on her shoulders!

“Maybe someday we’ll be able to joke about you almost taking off Rattlepelt’s shoulder,” Wildclaw chuckled, nudging her mate’s wounded shoulder.

“A responsible cat would know better than to even suggest joking about that,” Rattlepelt huffed. She gently kicked Wildclaw’s leg and sent her tumbling into Rattlepelt’s fox pelt.

“You’re the artisan,” Wildclaw chuckled, happily lounging on top of Rattlepelt. “You should recognize how good a story this is.”

“Maybe I’ll see it when I’m not traumatized,” Rattlepelt scoffed.

“Weevilpaw!” Honeybuzz called from the other side of the beach. Drumtooth and Elmsprout watched over most of Estherfern’s kits while Honeybuzz stood with Estherfern and Wolverinekit to the side of the celebration.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rattlepelt,” Weevilpaw said, backing up. “Your true self, I mean.” Weevilpaw left the pair to their gentle bickering and weaved through the crowd. Honeybuzz waited patiently for her beside their fellow cleric.

“Sorry to pull you from your partying,” Honeybuzz said, touching noses with his apprentice, “but Estherfern has asked for our help with Wolverinekit. With Yarrowpaw’s dead eye, you’ll need more lessons on eye care than I had at your age.”

“Is something wrong with Wolverinekit’s eyes?” Weevilpaw asked.

“Care to explain?” Estherfern sighed, careful gaze burrowing into her daughter’s long fur.

“You’ve been busy!” Wolverinekit huffed, puffing up like her angry namesake. “I thought it would fix itself!”

“I’m not a healer, Wolverinekit, I’m a priestess,” Estherfern said with a smooth shake of her head. “I can’t help you with these problems. You should have spoken with Honeybuzz sooner.” Technically, Estherfern was a cleric now, not a priestess; she should have been learning medicine, just like Weevilpaw! But a shared glance between Weevilpaw and Honeybuzz silenced the building frustration.

“So tell Weevilpaw what you told your mother and I,” Honeybuzz said. 

“Everything started looking funny last moon,” Wolverinekit grumbled, kicking the sand. “I can’t see inside the nursery at night, it’s too dark. I need to really look at you to really see you.”

“Any issues with blurriness or color?” Honeybuzz asked. He peered into Wolverinekit’s eyes, searching for the sort of visual differences Weevilpaw once noticed in Yarrowpaw.

“I don’t know,” Wolverinekit huffed. “How do I know if what I see is what you see?”

“What color do you think I am?” Honeybuzz asked.

“Your head or your body?” Wolverinekit sighed. “Momma, I don’t like this. Can we stop?”

“Darling, we need to figure out what’s wrong with you,” Estherfern sighed. “Be patient.” She licked the top of Wolverinekit’s head. Weevilpaw hummed softly, studying Estherfern. Who was this strange ‘priestess’?

“Weevilpaw, perform the vision tests we gave Yarrowpaw when she started her apprenticeship,” Honeybuzz said, stepping back. Weevilpaw shot lightning through her paws. Time to work!

“Wolverinekit, I want you to stare right at Honeybuzz,” Weevilpaw ordered, moving next to her mentor. “I’m going to move, but I don’t want you to look at me, keep looking at Honeybuzz. Tell me when you can’t see me anymore.” This test fascinated Weevilpaw when Honeybuzz first showed it to her after her apprenticeship, gauging the severity of Yarrowpaw’s condition so Rapidleaf could adapt her training. She just hoped she did it right….

Weevilpaw crept to the side, step by step. Wolverinekit kept her eyes on Honeybuzz. Estherfern stared at Weevilpaw while she moved. Weevilpaw tried not to make eye contact.

“Stop!” Wolverinekit called. Weevilpaw shared a glance with Honeybuzz. She stood at an angle to Wolverinekit. The young molly should have been able to see Weevilpaw move until she was standing beside her. Weevilpaw was only halfway there.

“Are you sure you can’t see me move?” Weevilpaw asked, batting a paw in the air.

“I can’t see you unless I look at you,” Wolverinekit huffed, breaking her gaze from Honeybuzz. Her chaotic fur drooped. “That’s… not normal, is it?”

“They’ll fix it,” Estherfern promised, quickly pressing her nose into Wolverinekit. Wolverinekit nuzzled her mother absentmindedly. Estherfern tucked Wolverinekit close to her. “Well? Fix her.”

“There’s more we need to understand about her vision,” Honeybuzz explained. “There are a few more tests we should conduct. The problem is, Wolverinekit hasn’t been injured, and she displays no other signs of illness from what I see. I don’t know enough yet to say for certain, but there’s a chance this could simply be part of her blood.”

“What’s the cure to that?” Estherfern huffed. Honeybuzz took a long, slow breath.

“Weevilpaw, can you take Wolverinekit back to the festivities?” Honeybuzz asked. “She might like bothering Trumpetspore for a while.”

“You’re talking about me,” Wolverinekit snapped, jumping away from her mother. “I should hear what’s wrong with me!”

“It isn’t about that, Wolverinekit,” Weevilpaw groaned. “I’ll explain it to you later.” She waved Wolverinekit over. Wolverinekit glared at Honeybuzz, but followed Weevilpaw anyway. Honeybuzz lowered his voice and moved closer to Estherfern. Weevilpaw was grateful Wolverinekit couldn’t see the anger blossoming over her mother’s face.

“How bad is it, Weevilpaw?” Wolverinekit asked as she and Weevilpaw strolled toward the ocean. Waspdawn jogged past the two mollies, his daughters at his heels, laughing. Waspdawn looped around Drumtooth and Elmsprout, but Yellowkit and Stormkit charged into Boughkit, Brightkit, Foamkit, and Thunderkit. The group collapsed into a pile of flailing limbs and cries of mock outrage. Weevilpaw’s tensed shoulders eased as she sat with Wolverinekit along the edge of the water.

“My best guess?” Weevilpaw sighed. “If you’re like Yarrowpaw, I don’t know if you’ll ever see things like everyone else does.” Wolverinekit nodded softly, pulling her tail close. Weevilpaw wrapped her tail around the younger molly. “That might not be all that bad! I know it might be sad, but there’s still a lot you can do. The Clan will make sure you can achieve whatever you want to achieve.” Behind them, Estherfern’s pelt prickled and her lips curled slightly as she spoke with Honeybuzz. Wolverinekit remained unaware.

“I used to see more,” Wolverinekit grumbled. “Do you think I’ll go blind like Yarrowpaw?”

“She’s only blind in one eye,” Weevilpaw said.

“You know what I mean!” Wolverinekit huffed, the prickles in her pelt matching her mother.

“I really can’t say what will happen,” Weevilpaw groaned as the ocean licked her paws. “I promise that I’ll learn whatever I can to help you out, cure or no cure, blind or not.” Wolverinekit just stared at Weevilpaw. Weevilpaw did her best not to break away from the stare. She coughed awkwardly and said, “I helped you once, right? Made sure you got out of the nursery with your littermates. Don’t you think I can help you again?”

Estherfern stalked away from Honeybuzz, tail thrashing. This time, Wolverinekit noticed her mother’s posture. Her head followed Estherfern all the way back to her kits. She settled down amongst her rambunctious kittens, head turned away from Wolverinekit and Weevilpaw. Weevilpaw could guess what Honeybuzz told her.

“I trust you, Weevilpaw,” Wolverinekit mumbled. 

“Thanks, Wolvy,” Weevilpaw sighed.

(Weevilpaw: 7, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Wildclaw: 64, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Rattlepelt: 55, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Honeybuzz: 20, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith)

(Wolverinekit: 4, female, kit, skittish, always asking questions)

(Estherfern: 106, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

During the anniversary celebration, Tallowpaw plays with Littlekit too long in the sun. He gets heat exhaustion while the small kit gets heat stroke.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz yowls at Tallowpaw and Littlekit, “Get in the shade, now.” Under Littlekit, it says + CONDITION: HEAT STROKE. Under Tallowpaw, it says + CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION.]

(Littlekit: 3, male, kit, skittish, splashes in puddles)

(Tallowpaw: 8, male, historian apprentice, nervous, splashes in puddles)

(Honeybuzz: 20, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith)

Wolfpaw, Waspdawn, Silverpaw, and Puddlewhisper go hunting.

[Image ID: Silverpaw, Puddlewhisper, Waspdawn, and Wolfpaw patrol together. Under Silverpaw, it says + NEW SKILL: QUICK WITTED.]

---

The bounties of summer, with extra herbs to fatten meals and strengthen the Clan, did not mean less hunting for Wolfpaw. As Waspdawn loved to stress, growing careless on the hunt was always a bad omen, regardless of the season. While summer meant more time to memorize the various intricacies of the warrior code, Wolfpaw and Silverpaw still had to join their mentors on hunting patrols. Codekeepers didn’t just sit around camp waiting for codebreakers, after all.

“If the historians say we can’t hunt squirrels for a while,” Silverpaw asked as she strolled alongside Puddlewhisper, leading Waspdawn and Wolfpaw, “does that mean we have to investigate every dead squirrel we come across?”

“If the death looks suspicious,” Puddlewhisper admitted, “but if someone were to kill a squirrel, I doubt they would leave the body lying about. Still, they’d have no reason to. There are many other creatures we can hunt. We can allow the squirrels to regrow their numbers for a while. We don’t need more squirrel pelts.”

“Lavendertwist noted an increase in the rat population to the southwest,” Waspdawn explained, catching Wolfpaw’s eye. “I think you’re both ready to hunt down rats. They’re not much different from mice. They’re simply sleeker, quicker, and a bit more vicious. This should help you learn how to identify rats with disease. Sometimes we’re asked to investigate things like that when the clerics or caretakers need a paw. That reminds me, Puddlewhisper, we should ask Honeybuzz if the apprentices can sit in on diagnostic lessons with Weevilpaw.” 

As Waspdawn went on, Silverpaw trailed back, walking on Wolfpaw’s other side. She copied Waspdawn’s face with a comical grimace. She mouthed along to his words, crossing her eyes in the process. Wolfpaw slapped her sister’s shoulder, but couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Waspdawn cleared his throat. Wolfpaw’s spine arched. She glanced back to her mentor with big, awkward eyes and half-tilted, apologetic ears. To her surprise, Waspdawn froze with a few paws off the ground, mouth stuck mid-word. He tumbled to his side like a knocked-over pot.

“Sorry!” Wolfpaw yelped, squeezing her eyes tight. “I’m sorry! It’s been happening more when I’m nervous. I’m sorry, Waspdawn!” Waspdawn, broken from his spell, scrambled back to his feet. Silverpaw and Puddlewhisper stared at Wolfpaw and further burned her pelt.

“Are you alright, Waspdawn?” Puddlewhisper asked as her brother shook out his pelt.

“I barely felt it,” Waspdawn said as Wolfpaw ducked her head. “Still, could you and Silverpaw give me a moment with Wolfpaw? We won’t be long.” Wolfpaw burned hotter as the other two mollies slowly continued on their path. Silverpaw’s feather-covered tail brushed Wolfpaw’s back as she walked off. Wolfpaw kept her eyes firmly locked on the well-trod grass.

“I wasn’t trying to freeze you,” Wolfpaw promised, heart pounding. “I promise I’ll be more careful where I look. I know it could be dangerous to freeze someone on accident. I’m sorry I can’t control myself like Weevilpaw or Anchovypaw. I won’t let this happen again.”

“You don’t need to panic, Wolfpaw,” Waspdawn said. “I’m not upset.”

“But someone else could be,” Wolfpaw gulped, “or I could freeze a Clanmate during a battle on accident and get them killed! Or I look at someone while we’re swimming and they sink to the ocean floor!” Wolfpaw wouldn’t even open her eyes now. “I know right now this wasn’t a problem, but it can’t keep happening. I have a responsibility to use my stare wisely. I can’t brush this aside.”

“That might be true,” Waspdawn sighed, “but Wolfpaw, you do remember you’re only seven moons old, right?” Wolfpaw risked opening her eyes. Waspdawn’s paws peeked into the top of her vision. She carefully lifted her head. Waspdawn sat in front of her, blinking slowly. His half-tail tried to reach his paws, but failed, leaving it awkward at his side.

“Why does my age matter?” Wolfpaw asked softly.

“You’re an apprentice,” Waspdawn reminded the fuzzy gray molly. “You’re more than allowed to make mistakes.”

“Not with this,” Wolfpaw huffed with a hard shake of her head.

“If you panic yourself over a mistake this small, you’ll never master your ability.” That did nothing to stop the burning in Wolfpaw’s blood. She shoved her head back down, but Waspdawn hooked his paw under her chin and forced her to look up. “I bring up your age, Wolfpaw, because at this point in your life, it is your responsibility to learn and make mistakes. Regardless of the sort of talents you possess, you can learn from incidents like this and master your skills.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Wolfpaw mumbled, only managing to stare at Waspdawn’s chest rather than his careful gray eyes. “If I had frozen the Shardling earlier, Harvest and Robinkit might not have died.”

“Your powers saved the lives of my kits and every other cat in the nursery,” Waspdawn reminded her, ducking his head to once more look Wolfpaw in the eye. “You helped Weevilpaw fight Rattlepelt when she was possessed. When I heard what your sister saw in her premonition, I had nightmares for days on end about what could have happened had you not intervened. That’s two times you’ve saved my sons and daughters. You were still a kit when that happened, and you still did more than anyone would have asked you to. You’ve already done enough, and I’m sure you’ll continue to impress me. You can afford to give yourself grace as you train.” Wolfpaw took a deep breath. Waspdawn copied her. The pair held their breath like Paleseed had shown them, two separate lessons coming together in one moment, and then they let it go.

“It’s hard to know how to practice my stare,” Wolfpaw admitted, itching under the sustained eye contact. “I don’t even know why I have it in the first place.”

“I may not understand it,” Waspdawn said, standing, “but if we work together, I think we can come up with ways to hone it. Let’s catch up with our sisters.” Wolfpaw took another big breath and nodded. She followed her mentor along Silverpaw and Puddlewhisper’s path, easing out the anxiety prickling her fur.

(Wolfpaw: 7, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Silverpaw: 7, female, codekeeper apprentice, strict, always asking questions, quick witted)

(Puddlewhisper: 38, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense)

(Waspdawn: 38, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 69

Waspdawn brought a litter of four kits to camp with the hopes that a WheatClan queen can nurse them.

[Image ID: Leathermask says to Waspdawn, “They’re quite cute, Waspdawn.” Four gold and white newborns sit in nests. The mostly yellow kit has the caption NEW PLAYER: YELLOWKIT, 0, FEMALE, NOISY. The white kit reads NEW PLAYER: SANDKIT, 0, MALE, SELF-CONSCIOUS. Below him, the dark golden kit reads NEW PLAYER: STORMKIT, 0, FEMALE, KNOW-IT-ALL. Lastly, the white and gold kit reads NEW PLAYER: LITTLEKIT, 0, MALE, SKITTISH.]

The Clan was a hive of chatter when Weedfoot and James returned from their slow walk around the territory. Weedfoot’s pregnancy weighed on her aging bones, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from taking some time to be with her mate. That meant when the pair entered camp once more, a light dusting of snow clinging to their heels, winter’s final push, they had no idea what was going on.

Paleseed, recovered from her bought with whitecough, raced past her mother, her tail weave of red feathers smacking Weedfoot in the face. Spikecrash hurried behind her, ducking between Weedfoot and James. Before Weedfoot could ask them what was the matter, they were gone.

“That’s not like Paleseed,” James muttered. “Do you suppose something’s happened?”

“Our Clan is riled about something,” Weedfoot sighed. Cats sat throughout the camp, eagerly explaining the unknown situation to their kin. A large crowd stood around the nursery. They peered into the nursery with soft gasps and excited whispers. Oilstripe, Lemmy, Clammask, and Harvest herded their kits into one group, keeping them entertained as whatever happened in the nursery unfolded. 

“Mom, we should really get Rattlepelt away from the nursery,” Anchovykit whined. He tried to run past Harvest, but the reddish-brown molly blocked his escape.

“She’s allowed to look,” Harvest huffed. “Why are you so worried about Rattlepelt?”

“Well, um,” Anchovykit gulped, “she, uh…”

“She can get really angry sometimes,” Robinkit said as he paced in front of Clammask and Lemmy, who worked as a team to stop Robinkit and his little patrol of friends from causing mischief. 

“Rattlepelt is having a rough time,” Oilstripe said, taking a break from her story with the well-behaved kits. “None of you need to concern yourself with her. Rattlepelt will be alright.”

“Just sit down!” Lemmy groaned. She jumped in front of Vervainkit before she could squirm around her guards. Weevilkit acted on the gap in their defense before anyone even realized there was a gap. She charged out of the swarm of kits. Clammask swiped at her tail, but the young tortoiseshell acted too quickly for her. She scampered to the dirt place, free from the queens’ imprisonment. Lemmy groaned, but did not chase her daughter.

“Oilstripe, if you’re all out here,” Weedfoot muttered, approaching the chaos, “then what is everyone looking at by the nursery?” Oilstripe’s troubled gaze brightened at the sight of her former mentor.

“It would be better if you went to look for yourself,” Oilstripe chuckled.

“Congratulations,” Slushkit chirped from her spot beside her mother. Weedfoot chuckled, for that was all she could think to do. 

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“And here I thought you were the wit in our relationship,” James chuckled. “Weed, it’s the nursery.” The spark of truth danced in Weedfoot’s mind a moment later. She quickly looked through camp. Paleseed had left, no need to count her. Puddlewhisper spoke to Downstar by the leader’s den. Lavendertwist and Scaleripple were a part of the crowd around the nursery. One kit missing. 

“Waspdawn?” Weedfoot muttered, paws leading her to the nursery. James trotted after her, tail high. As the mates neared the nursery, Scaleripple, who stood near the back, took note of their approach.

“Let my mom in,” Scaleripple said. Though he spoke softly and to no one in particular, the rest of the Clan took notice of Weedfoot’s arrival. They quickly scampered to either side, purring and giggling and staring. Lavendertwist stayed where he was, kneading the sand, dry for the first time in moons.

“Come look!” Lavendertwist cheered in a whisper. Weedfoot’s heart thrashed in her throat as she and her kin entered the nest-covered den.

Leathermask was with Waspdawn inside, constructing a new nest lined with leather. Neither noticed the change to the crowd outside. Waspdawn sat on the edge of Lemmy’s nest, looking down into Weedfoot’s freshly prepared nest. Four little drops of pale honey squirmed in her nest. Weedfoot’s whole face melted at the sight. The four kits couldn’t have been much older than a quarter moon, their fur just beginning to grow out. Each kit was a mixture of gold and white, from the darkest honey to the palest yellow.

“They’re quite cute, Waspdawn,” Leathermask chuckled, turning from his task. He froze when he saw Weedfoot and James staring inside.

“I’ll be good to them,” Waspdawn promised. He dipped a paw into the nest, gently petting the largest of the four kits. The yellow spotted kit mewed loudly and cuddled closer to their father. “I’ve had good mentors in parenthood.”

“I thought Lavendertwist would give us our first grandkits,” James said. Waspdawn’s ears perked up, paw retracting. He turned to the beaming faces of his parents and brothers.

“Wait, you did?” Lavendertwist said. James gently smacked his tail over his son’s face and let it rest there.

“Waspdawn…” Weedfoot whispered. She crept closer to the four kits in her nest. She couldn’t look away.

“Leathermask, could you give us a moment?” James asked.

“A fair request,” Leathermask said awkwardly, ducking his head. He squeezed around Scaleripple, who backed out of the den entirely to give the other warrior room to leave.

“They look just like you,” Weedfoot breathed. She stuck her muzzle into the nest. The darkest colored kit squealed, blind face angling toward the new scent as best she could. The litter was an even split; two toms, two mollies, gold and white splashed equally between them all. The biggest molly looked exactly like Waspdawn had when he first laid nursing at Weedfoot’s belly, a tiny blob named after the apprentice that never got to shine.

“I know you have questions,” Waspdawn sighed, laying beside the nest. “I want to answer them as best I can.”

“The code says you don’t have to,” Scaleripple said, creeping back into the den and examining Leathermask’s newly crafted nest.

“I remember how hurt and confused everyone was when Shadowdrop and Wildclaw brought Tempestshade, Trumpetspore, and Mosspounce to camp,” Waspdawn said. “I don’t want anyone to believe I’m repeating his mistakes.”

“We’re listening, then,” Weedfoot said. She moved closer to her son. Scaleripple sat in the new nest. James and Lavendertwist watched from the nursery’s edge.

“About two months ago, I was by the southern border,” Waspdawn began, “when a loner called me over. Her name was Gwen. She was new to the area and wanted to meet her neighbors. Regardless, we talked for a while. As you might be able to guess, instincts overtook us, and we mated.” Scaleripple draped a paw over his muzzle at the thought, unable to look at his brother. “Soon after, a monster slowed to a stop beside us. Gwen decided to approach them. The humans inside picked her up and took her into the monster before running down the path. I would have thought nothing of it if I didn’t reunite with Gwen half a moon ago.

“Around that time, one of our patrols told Downstar of a confused queen they escorted off the territory. I overheard them. Their description matched that of Gwen. I decided if she had come back after over a moon, she was likely looking for me, so I set off to find her. It didn’t take me long. She was taking shelter with a few of the barn cats in the nearest farm. She had deteriorated since I saw her last. Her fur was poorly kept and she was far too thin for how pregnant she was. She took a while to recognize me. Eventually, I learned the humans she had left with were of the wicked kind. They took her to a small human den with a Clan’s worth of cats trapped inside. They couldn’t leave and had little food.”

“I heard tales of humans like that in my youth,” James sighed, sneering. “Waspdawn, your friend was taken by a human we call cat-minded. They believe themselves to be cats and feel compelled to bring as many cats into their den as possible. Those dens become graves for the unfortunate cats they claim.” Lavendertwist squirmed, shoulder rubbing against his collar. 

“Gwen and another pregnant queen eventually managed to escape,” Waspdawn explained. “I agreed to offer some of my Clan training to further Gwen’s recovery. I’ve spent much of my free hours there, learning from the barn cats just as much as they learned from me. They were able to safely deliver Gwen’s litter a quarter moon ago.” Waspdawn set his chin on the nest with his kits. “When I realized how much they looked like me, I began to see them as mine, not just Gwen’s. The kitting made Gwen’s mind clear, and we were able to discuss what had happened between us. Gwen has no interest in living in the Clans, or any packed colony again. That’s when I offered to claim the litter and raise them here. Gwen decided that it would be better for them to grow up in stability rather than with a wanderer like herself. When they were strong enough to travel, I asked Puddlewhisper and Honeybuzz to assist me in bringing them home.”

“You could have told us,” Weedfoot said. Her paw touched Waspdawn’s.

“I only made the decision to claim them a few days ago,” Waspdawn admitted. He sat up and added, “I made sure I didn’t break the code by helping Gwen. I only provided her with my time and knowledge and took none of the Clan’s resources. I’ll stand trial if I have to and declare my innocence to the entire Clan.”

“You’re not going to trial,” Lavendertwist scoffed. “Really, Waspdawn, everyone knows Rustshade had his second litter with his old WheatClan mate, and no one did a thing about that. Nothing about your story sounds wrong to me.” Lavendertwist made his way around the many nests in the den and bunted heads with his brother.

“Alright, let’s not make that rumor into history,” Weedfoot reminded her brown and white son.

“Paleseed and Spikecrash went to WheatClan to ask for someone to nurse them,” Waspdawn explained. “With no one having milk, I wanted to make sure they ate well. Puddlewhisper is still discussing the situation with Downstar. She… may be annoyed that I didn't tell her about the kits.”

“She will get over it as soon as she sees these cute furballs,” Lavendertwist laughed. He waved his tail over the kits’ tiny noses, drawing their limited attention.

“They’re old enough for names,” Scaleripple noted with a twitch of his ears.

“I let their mother name them,” Waspdawn said. “Her last gift to them.” He carefully stepped into the nest with his kits. He nosed each one, naming them as he went. “Yellowkit… Sandkit… Littlekit… and Stormkit.”

“I like those names!” Lavendertwist cheered. “I might take naming inspiration from you when I have kits of my own!” Lavendertwist’s expression softened as he stared at his nieces and nephews. He hummed softly, thoughts unknowable. Eventually, he puffed up his chest and said, “I’ll be back soon.” 

He marched out of the nursery like a warrior on a mission. He quickly found his target by the warrior’s den. Weedfoot looked outside; Lavendertwist was staring at Elmsprout.

“Elmsprout!” Lavendertwist called, tail hooked overhead. Elmsprout, who had been making the finishing touches on the Clan’s evening meal with Rabbitjoy, looked up quickly. “How would you like to have my kits someday?” Weedfoot groaned, turning her head from the disaster. Scaleripple, in an uncharacteristic show of playfulness, snorted. James shook his head, sighing.

“Why would you phrase it like that?” Elmsprout yowled across camp as the entire Clan stared at her and Lavendertwist. Their heads flicked back and forth as though watching birds flutter through the trees.

“Because I want to have a family with you someday!”

“And you ask me now?”

“Why not?”

“Why yowl at me from the other side of camp?”

“I didn’t want to wait!”

“If you want to be my mate, just ask me that!”

“Okay! Do you want to be my mate?”

“Is this really working?” James muttered, sticking his head out of the den.

“I’ve wanted that for moons,” Elmsprout laughed. She bounded away from the oven and joined Lavendertwist outside the nursery. The Clan cheered as they rubbed pelts, laughing all the while. James joined his son, bunting his shoulder in congratulations.

“Now you’ll say you’re planning to have kits,” Weedfoot purred, looking over at Scaleripple.

“I don’t,” Scaleripple said, literal as ever. “I don’t think Tempestshade and I ever planned to have kits. I just wanted to be their companion.” Weedfoot could think of nothing to say. She turned back to her grandkits. Her first grandkits! StarClan, did that make her feel old. How much of the gray in her pelt was from her age? 

“Sandkit looks more like you than me, I think,” Waspdawn hummed as his kits searched for a warm belly. “Who knows? Maybe one of them will be like you, Scaleripple.” Scaleripple left the nest and joined his kin by the newborns. He stared at the four golden lumps, squirming and settling into deep sleep. Something in his eyes sparkled.

“I would kill for them,” he said. He locked his eyes on Waspdawn with a more focused stare than Weedfoot had ever seen from her youngest son.

“I think we all would,” Weedfoot purred. She nuzzled her grandkits, bathing in the warm joy of their tiny bodies.

(Weedfoot: 118, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(James: 145, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Anchovykit: 4, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Harvest: 57, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Robinkit: 4, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Oilstripe: 73, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Lemmy: 46, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)

(Weevilkit: 4, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Slushkit: 5, female, kit, polite, quick witted)

(Scaleripple: 22, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Lavendertwist: 35, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Leathermask: 17, male, warrior, nervous, great speaker, good fighter)

(Waspdawn: 35, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Yellowkit: 0, female, kit, noisy)

(Sandkit: 0, male, kit, self-conscious)

(Littlekit: 0, male, kit, skittish)

(Stormkit: 0, female, kit, know-it-all)

(Elmsprout: 36, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

While showing Harvest around the territory, helping her find a place in the Clan as she raises her kits, a kittypet asks about joining the Clan with her five kits.

[Image ID: Estherfern, a brown tabby with sunlit eyes, says “It seems your ancestors have an interest in me.” Under her, it says NEW PLAYER: ESTHERFERN, 103, FEMALE, BLOODTHIRSTY, GREAT MEDIATOR, PROPHECY SEEKER, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Beside her are five kits. The solid lilac molly reads NEW PLAYER: THUNDERKIT, 1, FEMALE, BULLYING, MOSS-BALL HUNTER. The dark brown kit says NEW PLAYER: BOUGHKIT, 1, FEMALE, QUIET, CONSTANTLY CLIMBING. The gold tom reads NEW PLAYER: BRIGHTKIT, 1, MALE, SHY, LOVER OF ART. The ticked kit reads NEW PLAYER: FOAMKIT, 1, FEMALE, UNRULY, ALWAYS WANDERING. The last brown molly reads NEW PLAYER: WOLVERINEKIT, 1, FEMALE, SKITTISH, ALWAYS ASKING QUESTIONS.]

---

When Oilstripe was a WheatClan kit, she spent a lot of time asking the various cats of the Clan whether she would make a good warrior or artisan or whatever role they held. Considering how much she loved hearing their stories, the path of a historian seemed obvious to her now. Yet if that worked for her, perhaps Harvest, who had yet to declare herself in any official role beside a humble queen, needed that same chance to hear what it was like to follow a certain path through the Clans.

Oilstripe, Puddlewhisper, Carnationspeckle, and Halibutdusk sat with Harvest on a hill in the open southern lands, where sunhigh reminded them all of spring’s return as they bathed in its yellow beams. It was the perfect spot to survey the territory. While cold air still nibbled at their pelts and the trees showed no sign yet of newborn buds, the longer days left rich mud and life across the land. Harvest sat with her tail twitching while everyone else lounged about, sinking into the dull, tan grass.

“If you choose to be a warrior, there isn’t much you have to learn,” Halibutdusk explained, stretching out his front legs. “You’ll help out where needed and go on patrols. Your old friend taught you how to fight, so you won’t need extra training.”

“It sounds nice,” Harvest admitted, head tucked down, “but Oakface would brag about the other positions in Clan life. I feel I’d be dishonoring him if I didn’t consider them.”

“If you want to spend more time in the nursery,” Carnationspeckle purred, laying in an awkward looking yet shockingly comfortable heap, “you can become a caretaker. Some caretakers choose to spend all their time in the nursery as permanent helpers. Would that interest you?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Harbest gulped, “I love raising my kits, but I don’t want to be stuck in the nursery forever.”

“If you have an interest in order and justice, you should become a codekeeper,” Puddlewhisper pointed out as she itched her back paw. “We spend a lot of our time assisting Downstar and Weedfoot in organizing the Clan and honoring the code.”

“Don’t forget historians!” Oilstripe chirped, stretched out in an arch along the grass. “There’s a lot to learn, but our stories are important.”

“It’s just as overwhelming as when Oakface described them,” Harvest laughed awkwardly. “It’s so strange to say I’ll only do certain tasks the rest of my life.”

“That’s not what we’re saying, don’t worry,” Carnationspeckle promised. She tapped her paw against Harvest’s. “You can always make a change later on. No one will blame you if you take more time deciding!”

“You might need to join some patrols, though,” Puddlewhisper pointed out. “It’s important to contribute.”

“Of course,” Harvest said. “There’s so much to do now that I’m here. I hope to experience as much as I can.”

“And I hope we can fulfill your dreams,” Carnationspeckle chirped. Puddlewhisper lifted her head, ears turning south. She squinted, pupils narrow in the shiny sunlight.

“Someone just crossed the border,” she said, getting to her paws. Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Halibutdusk followed her lead, claws out. “You can see them in the distance.” The Clan cats quickly followed Puddlewhisper’s gaze.

The intruder was nothing more than a speck in the grass from that distance. Oilstripe couldn’t even smell if they were a tom or a molly. Their dark fur was a shard of dull ocean rock thrown into the middle of the land, smooth from moons upon moons battered by the waves. They wandered deeper into RippleClan as though they were on patrol.

“If this is one of the same barn cats that keep trespassing,” Halibutdusk sighed, “we might have to show force.” 

“Something feels different about them,” Puddlewhisper muttered, eyes narrowing even more. “I can’t explain it.”

“I can,” Oilstripe said. As the intruder drew closer, Oilstripe saw another shape slipping through the grass. His ginger fur and white-wrapped torso were stuck in Oilstripe’s memory. He seemed to lead the newcomer toward the small gathering. Now why was Fennelspot leading a stranger over the border?

Carnationspeckle was the first to trot downhill, silky fur swaying softly. The others followed single file, all eyes on the stranger. The wind carried a molly’s scent to Oilstripe’s nose. The brown molly had bright bicolored eyes, coolly watching the incoming patrol. Fennelspot stopped when the patrol grew close. He looked to Oilstripe, familiar eyes easing any concerns she had of the intruder. With a low nod and a quick blink, Fennelspot vanished, leaving just the brown molly to tackle.

“Excuse us,” Carnationspeckle coughed. The brown molly sat undisturbed, eyes drifting over each cat. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’re trespassing on our Clan’s territory. You’ve crossed our border by the horse path.” The others spread out around Carnationspeckle.

“I’m aware,” the stranger purred. Her tone was light and airy, a whispering wind or tuft of smoke blown from an oven where stew simmered and watered the mouths of passersby. 

“Then you know you’ll be escorted out,” Puddlewhisper huffed. “We don’t allow outsiders to wander into our land as they please.”

“I believe there is supposed to be an exception for me,” the stranger sighed. “My name is Esther, though from what I know, my name will change slightly when I join you. It seems your ancestors have an interest in me.” The patrol shared glances, shifting awkwardly, wondering if any of them had a good answer to Esther’s odd declaration.

“How would you know that?” Harvest asked, back arched slightly.

“I would be happy to tell you,” Esther said, getting up, “but first, would you help me with my kits?”

“Your kits?” Carnstionspeckle gasped, peering about like the kits would suddenly pop out of the grass.

“I’ve left them just by your border,” Esther explained. She flicked her tail the way she came. She sauntered off, but paused when no paw steps followed behind. “I didn’t wander into one of those territorial Clans, have I? The sort to leave a queen and her kits alone?”

“We’ll help,” Oilstripe promised. She gave everyone a cautious, knowing look. That was all Carnationspeckle needed to follow Esther toward the border. Harvest, Halibutdusk, and Puddlewhisper lingered behind while Oilstripe joined her mate. If Fennelspot was leading Esther into RippleClan (whether or not anyone knew he was there), then Esther couldn’t be a danger.

Esther led the patrol to the horse path, quiet of any rolling monsters. Esther was just another patch of mud in the recovering grass, a spot of brown in a sea of tan. Oilstripe could smell the kits before she saw the small dip in the ground some ways beyond the horse path. Esther crawled into the dip and nuzzled the tiny bodies tucked within.

“Hello, my darlings,” Estherfern purred. Five kits mewed with delight at their mother’s return. They were all earth-colored, ranging between brown and pale tan. Almost all of them sported Esther’s sunlit eyes. There was only one tom in the bunch. All five stared wide-eyed at the Clan cats. The tom and the brown tabby hopped over Esther and hid behind her. The dark brown kit stood on Esther to get a better view of them. The two pale mollies, however, scurried out of their makeshift nest and stared down Oilstripe.

“So many kits…” Puddlewhisper muttered as Esther pawed at her wayward daughters, urging them back to her side. 

“Tom cats!” the brown tabby gasped, peeking out from behind Esther. “Are you tom cats? Momma, you brought tom cats!”

“I’m a molly,” Puddlewhisper huffed, tucking into herself. “Halibutdusk isn’t a tom, either. They’re separate from toms and mollies.” Where Puddlewhisper seemed like she’d rather sink through the grass at the comment, Halibutdusk simply nodded, tail sagging.

“You can be something else?” one of the pale colored kits gasped, eyes sparkling. 

“Wolverinekit, don’t ask rude questions,” Esther warned, “and Thunderkit, don’t pester them.” Thunderkit stuck her tongue at her mother. A sharp glare from Esther sent Thunderkit scrambling toward her dark brown sister.

“They have Clan names,” Oilstripe realized. “How do you know how we name our kits?”

“I asked,” Esther purred. She glanced at the thin clouds above. “I’ve named my kits Thunderkit, Boughkit, Brightkit, Foamkit, and Wolverinekit.” Each kit jumped up at the sound of their name. Thunderkit and Foamkit were the pale mollies, one solid, one ticked. Boughkit was the dark brown kit, Brightkit was the golden-brown tom, leaving Wolverinekit as the curious long-furred tabby.

“I need an explanation before I lead you to our camp,” Puddlewhisper huffed, taking the lead. “It’s fine to ask to join our ranks, Harvest here did the same with her kits only a few moons ago.”

“Hello,” Harvest said with an awkward twitch of her tail.

“But claiming you’ve spoken to StarClan?” Puddlewhisper scoffed, unable to stop her ears from going flat. “I just don’t trust it, kits or no kits. So before I feel comfortable helping you, I want to understand what you’re suggesting.”

“Take a deep breath, Puddlewhisper,” Oilstripe said. She touched her tail to Puddlewhisper’s side. “Believe me when I say, there’s at least some truth to what Esther is saying.” Oilstripe turned to Esther and added, “She is right, though. I want to know what led you here.”

“Are you expecting my life’s story?” Esther sighed. Her son crawled under her chin. Esther groomed Brightkit’s head, earning a purr.

“Tell us how you know about StarClan,” Oilstripe said, sitting at the edge of the dip.

“Where I come from,” Esther sighed, “far to the west, prophecy is commonplace, if not more straightforward than what your ancestors love to craft. A prophecy is no more than a message from our God. When my God told me to travel east and find the five Clans, who was I to say no? I am needed here, apparently. I would have been here moons upon moons ago, if not for the human who snatched me in my sleep and threw me into her den. It was not the sort of place one could escape from, all filth and violence and too many cats in too small a space.”

“That…” Puddlewhisper muttered, pacing to the other side of the dip, “sounds familiar.” She studied the five kits, who all watched her like she would become a fearsome bear, ready to strike at any moment. “Esther, do you know a cat named Gwen?”

“She and I found a way out of that cesspool close to a moon ago,” Esther said. “By then, I had fallen pregnant, but I made do. They’re quite cute, after all.” Boughkit slid off Esther’s back with a small squeal, earning Thunderkit’s mockery. “While I rotted away, however, I began to hear more from your ancestors in my dreams. I was thrown off guard by their way of speaking, but I grew to find the meaning in their metaphors. Their prophecies told me how to find you, how to escape, and how to name my kits.” Wolverinekit stared bug-eyed at Puddlewhisper as the gray molly thought through Esther’s story.

“Do you believe her, Oilstripe?” Puddlewhisper asked. Oilstripe loafed at the dip’s edge, carefully staring at Esther.

“Can you describe any of the cats from your dream, Esther?” Oilstripe wondered. 

“Oh, there were a few over the moons,” Esther sighed. “None gave me their name. The most common sight in the last few moons has been… a tailless tortoiseshell, gray and ginger.”

“Parsley?” Carnationspeckle gasped. While Harvest was unphased by the name, everyone else paid a bit more attention to Esther. 

“If StarClan has called you here,” Halibutdusk asked, “then you must have some idea as to why.”

“I can give you their last prophecy to me,” Esther purred as Wolverinekit and Brightkit started nibbling at each other. “But I need to know you’ll escort me to your camp. I need to secure a safe home for my kits.”

“There’s no reason we wouldn’t, right Oilstripe?” Harvest said with a friendly cock of her tail.

“If you have so much experience with prophecies,” Oilstripe said as Foamkit once again left the dip and sniffed around the Clan cats’ legs, “RippleClan could use your expertise as one of our clerics.”

“I want to hear this prophecy, first,” Puddlewhisper huffed. Foamkit pawed at Puddlewhisper’s leg. Puddlewhisper peered down, curious. Foamkit wiggled her flank and launched at Puddlewhisper. She clawed up Puddlewhisper’s leg and stood on Puddlewhisper’s back. Puddlewhisper could only stand stunned for a moment before she suddenly started laughing. “Oh, do you want a horse ride?”

“What’s a—” Foamkit said, but she wasn’t fast enough. Puddlewhisper kicked and bucked like a frantic horse. Foamkit dug her claws in, squealing and laughing the whole way. The other kits wooed and awed at the sight, running toward Puddlewhisper. They chased after her as Foamkit held on for her short life.

“Well, while you’re busy mangling my daughter,” Esther sighed, “I’ll give you the prophecy.” Esther climbed out of the dip and cleared her throat. “Ferns spread spores across fertile soil. There is much to learn from their growth, good and bad.”

“Sounds like your average prophecy,” Oilstripe admitted. “I don’t think Downstar and Weedfoot will have any issues with you joining the Clan as another cleric. I’m sure Honeybuzz and my daughter, Troutpool, would appreciate the extra paws.”

“I know you gave your kits Clan names,” Carnationspeckle pointed out, “but you don’t have to change your name if you don’t want to. There are plenty of cats who keep their old names in RippleClan, like James!”

“Thank you, but I actually decided on a Clan-like name while I was recovering from my kitting,” the strange brown molly said. “I was hoping to be called Estherfern. I believe the name to be appropriate

(Oilstripe: 73, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Halibutdusk: 60, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Harvest: 57, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Carnationspeckle: 71, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Puddlewhisper: 35, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense)

(Fennelspot: 113, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Estherfern: 103, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Wolverinekit: 1, female, kit, skittish, always asking questions)

(Thunderkit: 1, female, kit, bullying, moss-ball hunter)

(Boughkit: 1, female, kit, quiet, constantly climbing)

(Brightkit: 1, male, kit, shy, lover of art)

(Foamkit: 1, female, kit, unruly, always wandering)

Rattlepelt eavesdrops on Wolfkit.

[Image ID: Anchovykit says to Wolfkit, “She scares me, Wolfkit! My mom won’t believe me!” Rattlepelt listens in from the side.]

---

A kit just couldn’t get any privacy in RippleClan, it seemed. 

The first place Anchovykit tried to speak to Wolfkit was between the Shiprock and the medicine den. It was blocked off enough, so cats would have given them a bit of privacy. But new arrival Estherfern was causing a fuss in the medicine den, complaining about the herbs inside (“How can I focus on developing my relationship with your higher powers when you want me to crush leaves and roots all day?”). So that wouldn’t have been a good place to talk.

Anchovykit tried the quarantine den next. No one was there, so no one would interrupt. Except he then remembered just how many cats passed by to make dirt…. Not the right place.

He didn’t even stop to consider the nursery. Clammask and Lemmy were still talking to the visiting WheatClan queen about whether she needed to stick around and nurse Waspdawn’s kits, or if Estherfern could assist in the task. With well over a dozen kits of all ages inside, Anchovykit wouldn’t have been able to think, let alone talk to Wolfkit.

That was when he remembered that Mitepaw was the only apprentice in the Clan, and she had just left to collect wood with Rabbitjoy. The apprentice’s den was completely empty. The perfect place to talk.

“Anchovykit, why do you need to be so secretive?” Wolfkit sighed as Anchovykit led her into the apprentice’s den. The setting sun cast the entire den in deep shadow, better hiding the pair.

“Because this is really important!” Anchovykit huffed. With just the one nest inside, the den felt rather barren. The planks covering the roof seemed hollow in comparison to the secure stone walls of the nursery. Regardless, Anchovykit sat to the side, urging Wolfkit deeper into the darkness.

“So what is it?” Wolfkit asked. Anchovykit held his breath, trying to build up his courage and words.

“Did you talk to Spikecrash last moon about seeing things that weren’t there?” he gulped. Wolfkit pinned her big ears flat.

“How do you know about that?” Wolfkit whined.

“I overheard Spikecrash and Paleseed discuss it while I was making dirt,” Anchovykit admitted. “Wolfkit, I need to know! Do you see things glow, too? Do you see what’s wrong with Rattlepelt?” Anchovykit’s ears were as flat as Wolfkit’s.

“What’s wrong with Rattlepelt?” Wolfkit gulped.

“The ooze!” Anchovykit cried, stamping his paw. “The black stuff! The… oh what did she call it? The ichor! It’s all over her! She scares me, Wolfkit! My mom won’t believe me!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wolfkit whined.

“You know how mad she gets sometimes!” Anchovykit groaned. “Didn’t you see her yell at Mitepaw and Elmsprout yesterday?”

Anchovykit didn’t know what started the fight. He had been with Robinkit, Silverkit, and Vervainkit, learning a hunter’s crouch from Scaleripple. Mitepaw and Elmsprout had been talking about AshClan woodwork, the former showing off some of her pieces to Ravenkit. She had carved a bird’s wing out of a chunk of fallen wood, much to Ravenkit’s awe. It was in the midst of this happy moment that Rattlepelt appeared, giving into her own rage like a fire devouring the last of its fuel and surging upward in defiance. In Anchovykit’s unique eyes, Rattlepelt’s gaze shifted between the dark copper described by others and a burning, hateful yellow, her ichor smearing the sand. Oh how she had raged against Mitepaw and Elmsprout, screaming of traitors and false loyalty. It took both Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn to drag Rattlepelt away from the terrified mollies, the mediators hot on her trail, ready to uncover the truth of the outburst. 

But Anchovykit knew. He’d known for moons.

“There’s something wrong with Rattlepelt, and no one will believe me,” Anchovykit groaned. “It’s more than anger. I think she’s cursed! I thought you saw it too!”

“That’s not what I talked to Spikecrash about,” Wolfkit muttered, staring at her paws. “I see something else.”

“Do you see the future too?” Anchovykit and Wolfkit jumped, backs arched comically high. Weevilkit stood at the den’s entrance, shaking sand out of her pelt.

“It’s not nice to eavesdrop, Weevilkit!” Wolfkit huffed as her sister joined the duo inside.

“I only heard the last little bit,” Weevilkit insisted. “Now tell me what it is you see!”

“No, wait,” Anchovykit said, trying to smooth out the surprise prickling his pelt, “did you say you see the future?”

“Well, I’ve been keeping it a secret,” Weevilkit chuckled with a cocky sway of her flank. “I want to shock the clerics when I become an apprentice. I don’t want them to be jealous of how special I am.”

“Do you get visions from StarClan?” Wolfkit asked.

“Not like the clerics,” Weevilkit purred. “I see things just before they happen. Like when Estherfern arrived today! I saw her enter camp just before she actually entered camp. I’ve been seeing things like this for a while now. I didn’t know what it was at first, but now I know that it’s just what makes me special!”

“Oh, I know the word for that!” Wolfkit gasped. “Premonitions!”

“That’s it!” Weevilkit chirped, bouncing. “Do you have them too?”

“I see something else,” Anchovykit said, a bit more confident than when Weevilkit first interrupted. “I think it’s… influence. I see what StarClan touches, I think. If they like a place or person, it glows. I think I uncurse cats, too! I had a dream where a StarClan cat helped me uncurse Tempestshade so they could go to StarClan.” Wolfkit and Weevilkit looked at Anchovykit like they would look at a great hero of the Clans.

“So we’re both special,” Weevilkit gasped. She shoved Wolfkit and said, “What do you see, what do you see?”

“I don’t know if I actually see anything,” Wolfkit gulped, sitting with a plop, gaze stuck downward. “There was just something weird that happened last moon. I don’t think it’s happened since.”

“Well, try to make it happen again,” Weevilkit insisted. “What was it?”

“Um…” Wolfkit muttered. “I was playing with Yarrowkit, and I ran in front of her and glared at her like this.” Wolfkit lifted her eyes and stared at Anchovykit.

There was no moment between Wolfkit’s stare and what happened next. Anchovykit was on the ground, Weevilkit standing on his shoulder, smacking his head. Wolfkit crouched in on herself, shaking.

“Anchovykit!” Weevilkit yowled. She smacked Anchovykit’s face again. Anchovykit shoved her off.

“What was that?” he snapped.

“You weren’t breathing,” Wolfkit whined, swallowing hard. “You wouldn’t answer us. You weren’t doing anything. It was just like with Yarrowkit.”

“I don’t remember anything,” Anchovykit huffed, shaking out his pelt.

“Wolfkit, stare at me this time!” Weevilkit chirped, bounding away from Anchovykit and sitting in Mitepaw’s nest.

“Okay,” Wolfkit gulped. She turned her fearful gaze to Weevilkit. 

Anchovykit stared, waiting for something to happen. Except nothing did. Anchovykit quickly realized that was the point. Weevilkit did not move a single whisker. She did not blink. She did not breathe. Her eyes seemed hollow, frozen in a memory, a moment that had passed her by but that she could not leave.

“How do you stop it?” Anchovykit gasped. Wolfkit blinked hard. Weevilkit snapped back to life, once again wiggling with anticipation for something that already happened. She realized what she had missed as soon as she looked over at Anchovykit.

“We’re all special!” Weevilkit cheered. She ran to Wolfkit, nuzzling her sister. “We’re all special! I love it! You freeze people, Wolfkit! You’re special!” Wolfkit beamed in her sister’s praise. “Let’s go, let’s go! Let’s celebrate! We’re special!” Weevilkit charged out of the apprentice’s den. Caught up in the moment, Anchovykit and Wolfkit ran after her.

Rattlepelt was sitting directly next to the apprentice’s den. Anchovykit skidded in the sand at the sight of the furious, unnatural yellow eyes that only he could see. The ichor that pooled around Rattlepelt’s legs stained the leather she had been mending. Her claws poked through the leather. Anchovykit’s legs went numb. How much had she heard?

“This way!” Weevilkit snapped, nipping at Anchovykit’s scruff. The excitement and joy that had consumed her a moment before had vanished, replaced with a stiff terror. Weevilkit led Wolfkit toward the dirt-place. Anchovykit ran after them, just as Rattlepelt got to her paws.

Weevilkit skirted around the shipwreck and dove into the empty quarantine den. Anchovykit and Wolfkit scrambled to keep up, panting as their little hearts beat hard.

“I had another pree-me,” Weevilkit gulped.

“Premonition,” Wolfkit said softly.

“Rattlepelt was about to get really, really mad at us,” Weevikit said, shivering. “Is she following us?” Anchovykit glanced outside. The dirt-place was empty. No sign of Rattlepelt.

“There’s something wrong with her,” Anchovykit huffed. “Special cats always use their powers for good in stories, right? I think we need to use ours against Rattlepelt.”

“Maybe we should tell an adult,” Wolfkit suggested, glancing outside. 

“They won’t believe us,” Anchovykit huffed. “Waspdawn’s litter is so small! We have to keep them safe from Rattlepelt.”

“Would she hurt them?” Wolfkit gulped.

“You don’t see her like I do,” Anchovykit huffed, trying once more to be brave. “I think with her curse, she’s capable of anything.”

(Anchovykit: 4, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfkit: 4, female, kit, polite, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Weevilkit: 4, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Rattlepelt: 52, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 70, Part 2

Mitespark drugs Rattlepelt’s meal so she falls into a deep sleep.

[Image ID: Mitesparks speaks with Weevilkit, Anchovykit, Wolfkit, and Downstar.]

Anchovykit and his friends stayed in the quarantine den with Downstar and Honeybuzz the rest of the day while Waspdawn kept prying ears away from their conversation. There was something so adult about it all that even with Weevilkit’s terrifying description of what Rattlepelt could have done, Anchovykit still stood tall and tried to talk to his leader like a noble warrior. To his shock, Downstar and Honeybuzz didn’t talk down to him. They actually seemed to respect the kits! Maybe it was how close they were to apprenticeship, or maybe it was their powers. Whatever it was, Anchovykit liked it.

He did wish he could play a bigger role in the upcoming fight, though.

As dusk slipped away and night covered the camp, the kits pressed their ears against the walls of the shipwreck, listening to the conversations in the medicine den through layers of wood. They couldn’t hear much, but Anchovykit had a sharp picture in his mind; Rattlepelt, sitting in a nest with her bite wounds bandaged, Troutpool and Estherfern minding their business as the kits’ spy entered the den.

“Rattlepelt,” Mitespark called, voice clear through the shipwreck. “Asterblaze and I made dinner tonight. It’s just a simple soup, but I added a little salt to your bowl, since you’re hurt.”

“Hmm,” Rattlepelt huffed. “Thank you.” There was a long pause (most likely, Mitespark was setting down the bowl of soup for Rattlepelt). Eventually, Rattlepelt asked, “Did Waspdawn find out why those kits tried to kill me?”

“I think he’s still interviewing them,” Mitespark gulped. “Whatever reason they had, they’re still kits. I’m sure you can talk it through.”

“What I should do is treat them the same!” Rattlepelt suddenly yowled. 

“Rattlepelt!” Troutpool snapped, suddenly reminding Anchovykit of her presence.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t say that,” Rattlepelt growled.

“Just get some rest,” Mitespark sighed. The medicine den grew quiet. Weevilkit was the first to turn around and greet Mitespark when she looped around the shipwreck. Downstar and Honeybuzz had been waiting to the side of the den, sharing tongues. They quickly stood at the young artisan’s approach.

“Did you drug the soup?” Weevilkit asked, hurrying up to Mitespark.

“I put the medicine in, like Honeybuzz asked,” Mitespark gulped, fur prickling. “Downstar, this doesn’t feel right. Why did we need to sedate Rattlepelt?”

“Because her recent behavior hasn’t been her own,” Downstar sighed with a sorry shake of her head. “You’ve done well, Mitespark. We just need to wait for Rattlepelt to fall asleep now.”

“Do you think my parents will still be mad at me after this?” Wolfkit asked, still listening through the shipwreck.

“Once we explain the situation,” Honeybuzz promised, “Mosspounce and Lemmy will understand. You were just defending the other kits.” Wolfkit nodded, although Honeybuzz’s assurances did not ease the tension tightening through her shoulders.

“How long will it take Rattlepelt to sleep?” Weevilkit groaned. “What if she acts out again?”

“I’ll go back to the medicine den and fetch you when she’s dreaming,” Honeybuzz said. He trotted out of the quarantine den, leaving the kits to wait. Weevilkit paced around Anchovykit and Wolfkit. Her soft glow, invisible to all but Anchovykit, reminded him of the moon, shifting positions around the sky, providing a gentle but stunning light. 

“Wolfkit?” Weevilkit asked, still pacing. “Anchovykit? Do you two know what you want to train as?”

“We’re talking about this now?” Wolfkit gulped. She sat in a tight loaf. The stress building under her pelt made Anchovykit hurt just looking at her. He sat down beside Wolfkit, cocking his head to Weevilkit.

“Answer the question,” Weevilkit huffed, sitting with a dramatic thump.

“I’ll be a warrior,” Anchovykit declared. “I’ve known that forever! What else would I be?”

“Your sight would make you a good cleric,” Downstar pointed out from where she continued to lounge.

“That’s funny,” Anchovykit laughed.

“I was really impressed with Waspdawn today,” Wolfkit said, finding her voice through her fear, “even though he scared me. I would love to train with him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Wolfkit,” Downstar promised. “Weevilkit, are you asking because you aren’t sure?”

“The opposite,” Weevilkit huffed. She stopped pacing and gave her chest a lick. “I want to be a cleric.” Really? Weevilkit; wild, commanding Weevilkit, as a humble cleric?

Before Anchovykit could pry into his friend’s odd decision, Honeybuzz hurried back to the den, panting, “She’s asleep. Let’s do this quickly.”

“To your paws, kits,” Downstar huffed as Honeybuzz scurried back to the medicine den. Downstar trotted after her youngest cleric, with the three kits on her tail. Waspdawn joined them, leaving his guard post.

The soft fire under the cleric’s personal oven illuminated part of the medicine den. The clerics’ ointments and concoctions cast soft, but disorienting shadows onto one another. Troutpool and Estherfern watched in sheer confusion as the gaggle of cats stormed inside. Rattlepelt slept in a nest tucked to the side. She seemed to drown in the black ichor that forever oozed off her legs. Anchovykit knew there was a bandage wrapped around her shoulder, but the ichor smothered it. He ground his paws into the sand. Possessed or not, how dare she even think of attacking Waspdawn’s kits?

“Honeybuzz, what’s going on?” Troutpool asked as Estherfern carefully glared at the group.

“I think you should explain this to them outside the den,” Downstar muttered. Her dark gaze revealed her true intentions. Honeybuzz flicked his ears and looped around his fellow clerics. He herded them outside like a monster pushed a horse onwards.

“Whatever this is,” Estherfern said, eyes locking on Anchovykit, “good luck.” Did she know what was happening? Whatever the case, Anchovykit quickly looked away from the brown cleric. No time to worry about creepy clerics. It was time to save Rattlepelt.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Waspdawn asked as Anchovykit crept toward Rattlepelt.

“I should,” Anchovykit gulped. He mimicked the hunter’s crouch so often demonstrated in camp. Even now, in such tense of circumstances, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if his form was right, if the adults were impressed.

The black ichor covering Rattlepelt sloshed in Anchovykit’s presence. With how close he now was, he swore the spiritual ooze had a scent; something like mushrooms, or faded autumn leaves. Anchovykit braced his poor tongue for the awful taste ahead. He carefully bit into the ichor, Ripplefern’s guidance echoing in the background. Peel it off like a lid.

“I see something!” Wolfkit gasped as Anchovykit pulled. The taste made Anchovykit want to vomit, but he pushed on. He dug his paws in, straining his neck. The ooze stuck to Rattlepelt, slimy tendrils hooking around her as Anchovykit pulled more and more of it off. Even though he only grabbed the one leg, the ichor draining from the others seemed pulled to Anchovykit’s grasp like rain falling from the sky. Fat, sticky drops flew off Rattlepelt and onto the growing mass in Anchovykit’s jaws. It was getting too big for his mouth. How much ichor was on Rattlepelt?

With a loud, decisive groan, Anchovykit wrenched his head back and pulled the last tendrils of ichor off Rattlepelt’s body. He threw the huge, squirming mass away, bile stinging his throat. The bubbling, oozing ichor (which, from the horror in the eyes around him, everyone could now see) flew across the medicine den. It splattered at Downstar’s paws with a violent squish.

“That’s a Shardling?” Waspdawn muttered as Wolfkit sneered at the pile of ichor. Weevilkit hissed as a bubble formed on the surface of the ichor and popped.

“What do we do with it?” Wolfkit asked. Downstar had no time to answer; Weevilkit suddenly jumped with a loud yowl, making everyone’s fur spike. She stared at the ichor, seeing something that Anchovykit could not… not for a few seconds, at least.

“Get out!” Weevilkit screeched, running for the exit. “Get out right now!” Anchovykit and Wolfkit immediately raced out of the medicine den, looping around the ichor. Waspdawn and Downstar scrambled back just in time. The second Downstar moved, the ichor lunged at where she had been standing, impossibly sharp fangs suddenly launching from the mess like a great beast of the sea breaching the waves.

“Stay behind me!” Downstar yelped. She skidded across the sand and shoved the kits to her back. The ichor lunged and stumbled like a drowned frog, flopping out of the medicine den. The clerics stood to the side of the den and gawked at the sight. Elmsprout, who had been dutifully on guard duty outside, rushed back into camp.

“What is that?” she yowled as the ichor bubbled and gurgled. A solid form crawled out of the ichor like a cat crawled over a cliff’s edge to save themselves from a long fall. Each feature was sharp, pointed like fangs but thick like shadows over mud. Yellow eyes, the same eyes Anchovykit had seen for the last season in Rattlepelt’s glare, burst to life along the Shardling’s angular face. It mimicked long fur with slick tendrils of ichor and darkness. Its bile stained the sand with fat, sloppy drops. Anchovykit tried to stop his tail from slinking between his legs, from cowering behind Downstar, but he could not stop himself. The Shardling’s wicked stare settled on the nursery.

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeedfoooooooooooooot!” the Shardling screeched. Its cry was claws against bark, crumbling stones and screeching bats. Before anyone could stop it, the Shardling raced into the nursery.

[Image ID: Weevilkit asks Anchovykit and Wolfkit, “Does this make us… heroes?”]

Yowling instantly enveloped the nursery. Ravenkit and Silverkit scrambled out of the den with their mother at their heels. Waspdawn, Elmsprout, and Downstar charged into the chaos. There was no choice in the matter; Anchovykit, Weevilkit, and Wolfkit followed, despite how hard their hearts pounded. 

The nursery was a thunderstorm over a raging sea. Anchovykit’s friends and littermates scrambled over each other as the Shardling ran and tripped through the nursery. The queens scrambled from their sleep, still trying to grasp what stood before them. The Shardling sneered at Weedfoot, who sat in the far back of the den. Her two tiny kits, one red, one black, mewed loudly, disturbed but unaware of the danger that lurked nearby.

“You can do it, Harvest!” Weevilkit yowled. A few seconds later, Anchovykit’s mother fulfilled Weevilkit’s prophecy. She pounced on the Shardling, screeching louder than anything Anchovykit had heard before.

“Everyone, out!” Downstar ordered. She ushered Clammask and her kits around the fight, navigating through what little room remained in the den.

“I’ll help, Mom!” someone in the horde of kits yowled. As Yarrowkit, Billowkit, and Currentkit watched as their mother spun around the den, claws locked into the monster, Robinkit charged into the fight.

“Get back!” Waspdawn roared. He shoved into the nursery, but tripped over Boughkit and Brightkit, laying curled and terrified near the exit. His large body blocked most of the scene.

“Robinkit, run!” Harvest cried. The Shardling slammed her jaw into the rock wall. Still, even with a splatter of blood staining the wall, Harvest launched back into the fight. Anchovykit could hear his brother somewhere in the mix, but had no idea what was happening to him.

“We’re smaller,” Weevilkit said, batting at Downstar’s shoulder to catch her eye. “We can get through this! We can grab the other kits!”

“You’re not apprentices yet!” Downstar snapped. At that moment, Anchovykit decided he’d take a hundred punishments from Downstar if it meant no one else got hurt.

Anchovykit dove under Waspdawn’s legs and snatched Brightkit by the leg. No time to be gentle, his denmate had to leave. He dragged Brightkit out of the den and into Weevilkit. Wolfkit lunged through the gap formed in the kit’s absence and slipped into the den.

Waspdawn grabbed Boughkit and set her beside her brother. As he moved, Anchovykit raced inside. Waspdawn ran for his kits, who screamed in their nest. Wolfkit ran face-first into Thunderkit; Foamkit and Wolverinekit ran about wildly, searching for a way around the battle rolling through the den.

“Follow me!” Wolfkit yowled. She spun back and ran out the way she came. Thunderkit, Foamkit, and Wolverinekit scrambled after their savior. Weevilkit lunged in just as Wolverinekit ran out to her littermates.

“Leave, mousebrains!” Weevilkit yowled at Anchovykit’s siblings. Billowkit and Yarrowkit hissed and shook, unable to look away the Shardling that tore its claws through Harvest’s pelt. But where was Currentkit? Anchovykit could hear his sappy little brother crying somewhere on the other side of the fight.

But it was only when Harvest kicked the Shardling aside that Anchovykit realized he no longer heard Robinkit.

Currentkit wailed over Robinkit’s body. His red face was redder than ever before, dyed with his own blood. A frozen, panicked gaze clung sightlessly to Anchovykit. Ichor dripped from Robinkit’s claws. Currentkit shook Robinkit, choking on his own cries. Anchovykit nearly vomited from the overwhelming stench of rot and mushrooms in the den.

Harvest and the Shardling rolled back, concealing Anchovykit’s dead brother once more. Anchovykit instinctively pressed closer to Yarrowkit and Billowkit, the shock of the scene before him yet to pierce into his heart as reality. Wolfkit and Weevilkit had found their way to Weedfoot, still weak from her kitting only a quarter moon ago. Weevilkit helped Weedfoot to her paws as the Shardling gorged massive lines down Harvest’s shoulder. Anchovykit yowled as his mother cried out.

“Wolfkit, the stare!” Weevilkit screamed, throwing herself over Lightningkit and Cobaltkit. “Do the stare!”

“There’s too much happening!” Wolfkit whined.

“Just do it!” Weevilkit yowled. Wolfkit dug her paws in. She squeezed her eyes tight, panting hard. Waspdawn pulled Harvest aside and ducked as Downstar flew into the nursery. The tortoiseshell leader slammed the Shardling down. Waspdawn pinned its flank, but even the might of two strong cats would not hold it for long. The Shardling bubbled and squirmed, as slippery as a fish, threatening to lift the pair off the ground.

“Wolfkit!” Weevilkit cried. Wolfkit opened her eyes. The fear that had plagued the kit all day was gone. Instead, when Anchovykit looked in Wolfkit’s eyes, he saw burning grass, a raging wildfire focused entirely on the Shardling.

The Shardling stopped moving. It froze with one paw twisted toward Downstar, ready to claw her eyes out. Its squirming, sticky pelt stilled. The hate in its yellow eyes no longer burned, but stabbed; consistent, unmoving, but still powerful. Downstar and Waspdawn panted hard, catching their breath, shaking. Harvest’s surviving kits could not look away from the monster that killed their brother. That was, not until Downstar chomped down on the Shardling’s neck.

The Shardling’s form shivered with the impact of Downstar’s fangs. Waspdawn dug into its slimy torso. Wolfkit broke her stare, squirming at the sight. Not that it mattered anymore. As Downstar tightened her grip, the Shardling began to dissolve. Its form sunk underneath Downstar and Waspdawn. The ichor oozed into the leather and sand lining the nursery. Soon, nothing remained of the horror but sticky, reeking piles of gunk. A huge crowd stood outside, yowling and trying to figure out what was unfolding inside.

“Mom,” Yarrowkit gasped. 

Anchovykit, Billowkit, Currentkit, and Yarrowkit scrambled across the den. Their paws stuck to the stained leather. Harvest laid in Waspdawn’s nest, blood oozing from her mouth. Her jaw laid broken, claw wounds staining her white markings. She breathed hard, but her green eyes remained clear, wide and shaking.

“Mom,” Currentkit sobbed as Waspdawn helped Weedfoot, Weevilkit, and Wolfkit carry the newborns outside. “Mom, Robin’s…”

“I’m sorry,” Anchovykit gulped. He pressed his paws into the large wound on Harvest’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mom. We were getting the Shardling out of Rattlepelt, I don’t know why it wanted Weedfoot.”

“What are you talking about?” Billowkit cried, sneering at his brother.

“Troutpool!” Weevilkit yowled outside. “Honeybuzz!” Harvest groaned, broken jaw twitching. Anchovykit leaned close. It was hard to understand what his mother said, but each word stunned regardless.

“You were brave,” Harvest said. “Keep being brave for me.” 

“Mom—” Anchovykit whined. Suddenly, Honeybuzz’s white paw pulled him back. He and Troutpool nudged the kits back, surrounding Harvest with baskets of medicine. Honeybuzz put his ear to Harvest’s mouth. When he didn’t stand up, Anchovykit knew his mother was gone.

Anchovykit ran outside, shoving through his Clan. Downstar herded Weevilkit and Wolfkit into her den. Anchovykit ran blind after them, cats shoving against him. Downstar looped her tail around Anchovykit as soon as he entered her den, gently nudging him toward her nest in the large, old, wooden box.

“The three of you, take a moment,” Downstar huffed. “I’m going to stand outside and answer everyone’s questions. You tell me when you want to see anyone. I promise, you all did well, you aren’t in trouble. I’ll explain everything to the Clan. Everything will be alright.” Downstar crept backward out of the den as RippleClan called her name, trying to figure out how exactly two of their Clanmates ended up dead, what just stormed through the nursery.

“Does this make us…” Weevilkit muttered, “heroes?”

“Anchovy,” Wolfkit whined, bunting Anchovykit’s side, “I’m so sorry. I should have frozen the Shardling sooner.” 

Downstar’s den glowed. As the heavy weight of loss sank deeper and deeper in Anchovykit’s lungs, soft light danced around the walls of the den. It was so much like the glow that covered Weevilkit and Wolfkit, but purer. Brighter. Calmer. It enveloped the leader’s den, spreading like a wave. Anchovykit’s weight stuck in his throat at the sight. Weevilkit didn’t see it, he was sure of that; the darkness of the night’s events still clouded her gaze. But it was like all of Silverpelt came down to say, “We know tonight was hard. We’re sorry we took them.” No, that wasn’t what they said. “We’re sorry we left.”

But with how Anchovykit saw the world, they never really would leave, would they?

(Anchovykit: 5, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Mitespark: 12, female, artisan, charismatic, good mediator) 

(Rattlepelt: 53, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Troutpool: 31, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Weevilkit: 5, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Downstar: 129, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Wolfkit: 5, female, kit, polite, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Honeybuzz: 18, male, cleric, daring, constantly fiddling with tools)

(Estherfern: 104, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Waspdawn: 36, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Elmsprout: 37, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

(Harvest: 58, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Robinkit: 5, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Currentkit: 5, male, kit, polite, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas)

(Yarrowkit: 5, female, kit, noisy, stares at fire)

(Billowkit: 5, male, kit, bossy, active imagination)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 73, Part 1

Curious about Oilstripe’s abilities, Lemmy gives Oilstripe some oak leaves as a gift in exchange for learning more about her ghost sight.

[Image ID: Lemmy asks Oilstripe, “So you see them, whether or not they want to be seen?”]

(Oilstripe: 77, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Lemmy: 49, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)

Downstar calls a ceremony to honor Darkkick’s movement to the elder’s den.

[Image ID: Darkkick becomes an elder.]

(Darkkick: 133, trans female, elder, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)

Although Tallowpaw recovers from his heat exhaustion, Littlekit dies of heat stroke. Tallowpaw blames himself. Weedfoot offers advice, historian to historian.

[Image ID: Weedfoot says to Tallowpaw, “Life is about loss and regrets, and moving past them.” Under Tallowpaw, it says - CONDITION: HEAT EXHAUSTION. Under Weedfoot, it says - CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH.]

(Tallowpaw: 9, male, historian apprentice, nervous, splashes in puddles)

(Weedfoot: 122, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

Thunderkit keeps asking cats to repeat themselves until it’s clear something about her hearing is weak and unreliable. Her mother is less than happy that there is no cure.

[Image ID: Under Thunderkit, it says + PERMANENT CONDITION: PARTIAL HEARING LOSS.]

(Thunderkit: 5, female, kit, bullying, moss-ball hunter)

Weevilpaw notes that Estherfern is disappearing a lot lately…

[Image ID: Weevilpaw watches Estherfern slink away.]

---

“Thank you for helping us practice, Weevilpaw,” Waspdawn said as Weevilpaw steadied herself on the sands of Battle Beach. Wolfpaw waited across from her sister, anxiety apparent in the flicking of her whiskers. She squinted against the light shining on Weevilpaw’s back and reflecting off the sea in a blinding glare.

“I’m excited to see what training is like for you!” Weevilpaw admitted. “Especially when it’s magic training.”

“I don’t like calling it magic,” Wolfpaw groaned, turning from the rising sun. “It’s just my stare.”

“StarClan gave you your stare for a reason,” Waspdawn explained, stalking around the two sisters. “The more you can control it, the more you can help your Clan. Now, Weevilpaw and I will run at you at random moments. You have to lock in your stare and freeze us before we get to you. Hold it until the other cat can tackle your target for you. You’ll lose points if you freeze us when we’re just walking around, or if you unfreeze us before we’re pinned.”

“This is point based?” Wolfpaw gulped.

“You’ll do great!” Weevilpaw cheered. Wolfpaw swallowed and steadied herself. Her flickering eyes focused on her mentor with a half-confident nod and a decisive flick of her tail.

“Copy me, Weevilpaw,” Waspdawn said. He took off down the beach, kicking dry sand behind him and into the swift breeze. Weevilpaw ran after him. She hissed as sand flew into her eyes. She almost didn’t notice Waspdawn turn around and take off in a random direction. Weevilpaw decided to run the opposite way, looping around Wolfpaw. Wolfpaw spun like a whirlpool, trying to keep track of both cats. Weevilpaw laughed and did a silly little dance where the sand met the grass. Wolfpaw’s face brightened as Weevilpaw pranced about.

As Weevilpaw danced, Waspdawn reared around from where he stalked and charged toward Wolfpaw. Wolfpaw’s big ears spun back. She scrambled around, almost slipping on the sand. Waspdawn lunged toward Wolfpaw, but his paws froze mid-air. He flew into the sand, leaving a long gully behind him in the impact. Wolfpaw glared at Waspdawn, eyes bulging. Weevilpaw ran to Waspdawn’s frozen body and stood on top of him. Her pelt prickled when she entered her sister’s freezing gaze. Wolfpaw blinked, and Waspdawn spasmed, his mind catching up to the present.

“Good!” Waspdawn groaned as Weevilpaw hopped off. “That’s what you need to do. You froze me at the right moment. If a cat falls like that, they’ll wake up stunned and sore.” Waspdawn groaned as he pushed himself up, shaking sand out of his golden pelt. As Weevilpaw squinted to avoid sand in her eyes, her gaze caught a shape lurking in the tree line. With the sun shining against the forest, Weevilpaw could clearly see Estherfern, slowly making her way through the territory.

“Waspdawn?” Weevilpaw said. “I’ll be right back. I need to, uh… go make dirt quick.”

“Don’t take too long,” Waspdawn said, dismissing the tortoiseshell with a flick of his half-tail. “Wolfpaw, we’re doing that again.”

“I’m ready,” Wolfpaw said. Weevilpaw purred inside when she heard her sister’s brighter tone, but she didn’t stay to celebrate. She jogged towards the forest as Estherfern slipped in and out of view.

“Estherfern!” Weevilpaw called. The older cleric’s brown pelt prickled. She turned her head to Weevilpaw, bicolored eyes burning yellow in the morning light. Her stare sapped some of Weevilpaw’s energy.

“Did you need something, little apprentice?” Estherfern sighed.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Weevilpaw said slowly, slipping next to Estherfern. “You haven’t been in camp much.”

“I’ve been deepening my connection with your ancestors,” Estherfern explained. “Their behavior and abilities are quite different from my own God. I’m beginning to understand why I was sent here.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Weevilpaw said, nodding along. “I was worried you were mad at us, what with Thunderkit’s diagnosis.” It had been Weevilpaw who noticed Thunderkit’s hearing issues when she kept missing parts of Rabbitjoy’s stories or Slushpaw’s attempts to energize the kits towards their upcoming apprenticeships. Was that why Estherfern gave her such a blinding look when Weevilpaw called to her? It wasn’t her fault her daughter may one day go deaf. It was no one’s fault.

“Mad at you?” Estherfern huffed with an almost taunting twitch of her whiskers. “No. If I was mad, it wouldn’t be at you, little apprentice. You’ve taught me a lot in recent moons.”

“I have?” Weevilpaw echoed, cocking her ears to the side.

“You and your blessed friends.” Estherfern strolled around Weevilpaw, tail swaying as her gaze trailed over Weevilpaw’s colored patches. “Honeybuzz and Troutpool have yet to find an explanation for your abilities outside of their starry origins, am I correct? You are living proof of the untapped power that vibrates across your lands. The rituals your cleric predecessors have crafted to touch that power, reach through the waters of life and death, they can do much when performed properly. Perhaps if your training wasn’t so focused on medicine, you could reach further. Do more.” Weevilpaw’s ears followed Estherfern around and around.

“If that’s a compliment, thank you,” Weevilpaw chuckled awkwardly. “Still, medicine is really important. I don’t think half of our treatments would be as successful as they are if we didn’t have our connections to StarClan!”

“We can agree to disagree on that,” Estherfern sighed. She stopped in front of Weevilpaw, sitting gracefully. “I just don’t want you to waste your spiritual potential bogged under a mountain of herbs. Tonight, why don’t the two of us find a spot to study the stars? We can draw your ancestors’ focus to RippleClan. I may even teach you some of the ways I connected with the spiritual world in my old home.”

“Really?” Weevilpaw gasped. “I would love to learn under you! Thank you, Estherfern!” 

“Keep honing your connection with your ancestors, and I believe we’ll get along well,” Estherfern sighed. Weevilpaw’s heart soared when she picked up a soft purr in the older molly’s voice. “Run along, little apprentice. I’ll see you tonight.” Estherfern strolled deeper into the trees, tail high. Before Weevilpaw could turn back to the beach, however, Estherfern paused and looked back. “Thank you for caring, Weevilpaw. I know you’re doing your best.”

“Of course, Estherfern,” Weevilpaw chirped, but the brown molly did not stick around to receive her thanks in turn.

(Waspdawn: 39, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Weevilpaw: 8, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfpaw: 8, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Estherfern: 107, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

[rippleclan]

i know there is a Spirits of Shadows compendium, but i dont see the spirits mentioned by Esther in there. is there more information about them somewhere? or will they be added at one point to the compendium?

Estherfern was talking about a specific cat who resides in the Dark Forest; a cat named Hawthornstealer. She just accidentally summoned a Herald instead who wanted to prey on her ableism.

[rippleclan]

I ALSO JUST REMEMBERED. Ferns spread through spores. Estherfern's brought five new kits to the clan. (Fun fact! That's the maximum litter size in vanilla clangen, with the minimum being one.)

Harvest's told Estherfern to not cavort with the DF, and...she's done exactly that already, if Weedfoot's corpse is anything to go by. And now, she'd done it AGAIN. If she wasn't caught, three (if not all five) of her kittens would be dead and in Hell.

I want to slap Estherfern so bad. 10/10 writing as always!

I love Estherfern, but yes, she does need to be slapped, lol.

I’m so glad you know that fact about ferns, I had one reader thinking the prophecy was about Trumpetspore and didn’t know if I should have corrected them. I will say, though, the wording meant that, had Estherfern not realized her mistakes, Estherfern would be destined for damnation. Now, though, she has a chance to make things right.

[rippleclan]

I remember the oct 11th vote...ohhhhhhhh BOY. Esther, time to reap what you've sown.

I understand her motivations, but it's clear that she's focusing on what SHE wants, and herself alone, which is completely antithetical to how clans (and most societies tbh) work.

Wanting to be a Cleric, yet refusing to learn medicine. Wanting to be a prophet, yet failing to understand that Starclan and the DF are very, very different from her own Gods.

Her ableism is painfully realistic, which I must applaud! I love when the non-overt forms of bigotry are displayed within media.

And her kits...oh, she's NEVER going to be able to fix their relationship. Being an abusive parent (ableism and bigotry is inherently abusive) is already setting fire to the bridge, and MURDERING TWO PEOPLE? The two highranks of Rippleclan, no less?

The first deputy, Weedfoot? A legendary cat who was a short ways away from retiring? A mother to many, a grandmother to even more? Yeah, she suffered a gore-filled death because of Estherfern.

And yeah, Downstar isn't Dead dead, but if she wasn't blessed with extra lives, she'd be buried with Weedfoot.

TLDR: rest in pieces Estherfern, you've fucked up BAD, and super lucky that you aren't being executed.

I love seeing your responses, you put so much thought into them! My plans for Estherfern aren’t exactly what you’re thinking though. She’s not the focus of that vote.

Because as of Moon 75, Honeybuzz isn’t telling anyone what she did.

It’s similar to the Rapidleaf situation. Right now, Honeybuzz sees no good coming from exposing Estherfern’s mistakes. It takes effort to quiet the apprentices, but a promise of revealing information later has placated them for now. A lot of it comes from what Honeybuzz overheard during Estherfern’s conversation with the Herald (the thing Estherfern summoned). While Estherfern did summon the creature that killed Weedfoot and Downstar, it was far from her intention. She didn’t even realize the connection until the Herald pointed it out to her. She also flat out refused to kill anyone else, wanting her children to love her, not hate her.

Yes, Estherfern was cocky. She thought herself above the others in skill. She thought StarClan and the DF were just afterlives with empowered cats residing there, as nuanced as any other cat. But I wanted to symbolize her realization of these mistakes by having her destroy the summoning den. She is smothering those poor intentions, those mistakes, that selfishness and superior attitude. And Honeybuzz wants to give her a chance.

I’m very happy with the depiction of her ableism. Estherfern has good intentions, fearing for the future and success of her kits if they lack the same strengths as the rest of society, but again, her own self-centered nature made her blind to the supportive community she joined, alongside the ways her kits were working against that. The bridge is burnt, but I wanted to show with the Harvest Moon scene that Estherfern is bringing in new wood, wood from a healthy tree, rather than the sickly wood of that old bridge. She is meeting her children where they are and accepting their differences.

I hope I finish Estherfern’s big arc well, even if it doesn’t go the way you may expect. Thank you for the love!

[rippleclan]

hmmm a bit suspicious of Estherfern. this whole 'fix my disabled children.' puts such bitter taste in my mouth, but i cant wait to see how far she could go with the whole spiritual thing.

it is kind of funny how two of her kits ended up disabled, having two of most used common senses impaired (sight and hearing). those cant be exactly 'healed', which makes me wonder how would she react to stuff like broken back, leg or jaw.. thing that can be 'fixed' by medicine she brushes off, but with a chance of it not healing right (weak leg, paralyzed waist down, bent jaw).

i want to study her under a microscope.

I’ll say this now, fun things ahead in the next few moons! I’m studying Estherfern’s character as much as you are.

[rippleclan]

Sandkit gets a special picrew to show off his cream tinted white fur.

Yellowkit, Sandkit, Littlekit, Stormkit, Estherfern, Thunderkit, Boughkit, Brightkit, Foamkit, and Wolverinekit.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 76

A dog-cat makes its appearance in the territories, one of many spirits that have appeared thanks to Estherfern. With Wolfpaw there to freeze the Spirit of Shadow, the battle patrol takes it down, but Mosspounce is bruised and Downstar breaks her leg.

[Image ID: Wolfpaw, Downstar, Mosspounce, Waspdawn, Scaleripple, and Moonpaw head off to battle. Downstar yowls "Stay together!" Under Downstar, it says + CONDITION: BROKEN BONE. Under Mosspounce, it says + CONDITION: BRUISES. Under Moonpaw, it says LEVEL UP! FAITHFUL → PLAYFUL.]

(Wolfpaw: 11, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Downstar: 135, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Mosspounce: 37, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Waspdawn: 42, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Scaleripple: 29, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Moonpaw: 11, female, warrior apprentice, playful, quick to help)

Tallowheart and Slushtrail earn their names.

[Image ID: Tallowheart and Slushtrail are adults! Under Tallowheart, it says LEVEL UP! TALLOWPAW → TALLOWHEART, SPLASHES IN PUDDLES → GOOD SWIMMER. Under Slushtrail, it says LEVEL UP! SLUSHPAW → SLUSHTRAIL, QUICK WITTED → CLEVER, BATS AT STRING → TALENTED WEAVER.]

(Tallowheart: 12, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

(Slushtrail: 12, female, mediator, wise, talented weaver, clever)

Lightningpaw feels Weedfoot beside her as she and Cobaltpaw are apprenticed to Tallowheart and Lemmy. Lemmy agrees to train two apprentices since there are no more codekeepers for Cobaltpaw. Vervainpaw is left unhappy with sharing a mentor.

[Image ID: Vervainpaw watches Lightningpaw and Cobaltpaw become apprentices. Under Lightningpaw, it says LEVEL UP! LIGHTNINGKIT → LIGHTNINGPAW, SELF-CONSCIOUS → INSECURE. Under Cobaltpaw, it says LEVEL UP! COBALTKIT → COBALTPAW, QUIET → LOYAL. Under Vervainpaw, it says LEVEL UP! AMBITIOUS → BLOODTHIRSTY.]

(Lightningpaw: 6, female, historian apprentice, insecure, always wandering)

(Cobaltpaw: 6, female, codekeeper apprentice, loyal, loves to eat)

(Vervainpaw: 11, female, codekeeper apprentice, bloodthirsty, loves nature, quick to make peace)

Having snuck away from Puddlewhisper, Silverpaw finds an abandoned human den she didn’t remember seeing before. It takes her too long to figure out the den is secretly a honeybite’s mouth. The Clan never finds her body.

[Image ID: Silverpaw approaches a red bush with white eyes inside.]

(Silverpaw: 11, female, codekeeper apprentice, strict, always asking questions, quick witted)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 70, Part 1

Weedfoot and James happily welcome their next (and last) litter into RippleClan.

[Image ID: Weedfoot and James watch over a red newborn and black newborn, with Weedfoot saying “I love them so much… but I’m not doing this to my body again.” Under her, it says - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Under the red kit, it says NEW PLAYER: LIGHTNINGKIT, 0, FEMALE, SELF-CONSCIOUS. Under the black kit, it says NEW PLAYER: COBALTKIT, 0, FEMALE, QUIET.]

(Lightningkit: 0, female, kit, self-conscious)

(Cobaltkit: 0, female, kit, quiet)

(Weedfoot: 119, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(James: 146, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

Tallowpaw and Slushpaw are apprenticed to Lavendertwist and Paleseed. Mitespark earns her name.

[Image ID: Tallowpaw and Slushpaw have their apprentice sprites, while Mitespark has her adult sprite in the middle. Under Tallowpaw, it says LEVEL UP! TALLOWKIT -> TALLOWPAW, SKITTISH -> NERVOUS. Under Mitespark, it says LEVEL UP! MITEPAW -> MITESPARK, INSECURE -> CHARISMATIC, QUICK TO MAKE PEACE -> GOOD MEDIATOR. Under Slushpaw, it says LEVEL UP! SLUSHKIT -> SLUSHPAW, POLITE -> WISE, + NEW SKILL: BATS AT STRING.]

(Tallowpaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, nervous, splashes in puddles)

(Mitespark: 12, female, artisan, charismatic, good mediator)

(Slushpaw: 6, female, mediator apprentice, wise, quick witted, bats at string)

Rattlepelt glares at Littlekit and his littermates from across camp.

[Image ID: Rattlepelt stares at Stormkit, Sandkit, Littlekit, and Yellowkit. Under Stormkit, it says + NEW SKILL: LOVES TO EAT. Under Sandkit, it says + NEW SKILL: INTERESTED IN CLAN HISTORY. Under Littlekit, it says + NEW SKILL: SPLASHES IN PUDDLES. Under Yellowkit, it says + NEW SKILL: QUICK TO MAKE PEACE.]

---

Were Weevilkit and her sisters as cute as Waspdawn’s sons and daughters when they were that little? Sure, Weevilkit was still technically a kit, but she was practically an apprentice in her eyes, and Waspdawn’s litter was so… little! 

Weevilkit, Wolfkit, and Anchovykit watched as Stormkit, Sandkit, Littlekit, and Yellowkit made piles of sand. Stormkit’s fur had darkened exceptionally fast in the last moon, leaving her a dark ginger molly standing out against her white and golden littermates. She sniffed and batted at her sand pile while Sandkit buried his face as deep as he could. Weevilkit couldn’t tell if Sandkit was white or an impossibly pale cream tom, but he did, in fact, look like the sand around him. Littlekit and Yellowkit worked together to build as big a sand pile as they could manage. It was about their height, but whenever Littlekit tried to put more sand on, the pile crumbled. Weevilkit couldn’t help laughing when they squealed in dismay.

The older kits were in charge of watching Waspdawn and Estherfern’s litters run around camp while the caretakers expanded the apprentice’s den, arguing about how to best move the large boulder that made the back wall. There was no chance of keeping Estherfern’s kits in once place; they were scattered around camp, investigating as much as they could. Thunderkit and Foamkit demanded to help the caretakers, much to Mosspounce’s woe. Brightkit and Wolverinekit sniffed around the warrior’s den, daring the other to enter. Weevilkit had no idea where Boughkit had run off to, but since no one was panicking, she didn’t worry.

Weevilkit, Wolfkit, and Anchovykit were the only kits taking their kitsitting duties seriously. Potterykit, Moonkit, and Vervainkit were talking with Tallowpaw and Slushpaw about what it was like to be apprentices. The other six kits were either denying the morning’s arrival or basking in the newfound spring warmth. Weevilkit and her friends knew better, though. The kits needed protection only they could provide. They stood watch a short ways from Waspdawn’s litter, sitting like little warriors at vigil.

“There she is,” Wolfkit whispered, nodding to the artisan’s storage den. Rattlepelt emerged from the darkness, the snout of her fox pelt the first thing to see the light. Weevilkit’s stomach flipped. Did no one else see the hate in Rattlepelt’s eyes? How had she not seen it before Anchovykit told her what he saw? How could she be the daughter of two of the Clan’s most beloved mollies?

“She’s just as creepy as usual,” Anchovykit muttered, sneering.

“What do you think she’s doing?” Weevilkit wondered.

“You’re the one who has premonitions,” Anchovykit huffed.

“I think she was testing some of the old baskets,” Wolfkit explained. “You have to take apart any that have faded too much.”

“She probably loved destroying something,” Weevilkit growled softly.

“Remember Tempestshade, though?” Anchovykit sighed. “They didn’t like being cursed either. Maybe Rattlepelt’s the same.”

“I don’t trust her,” Weevilkit huffed.

She was right not to. As Rattlepelt stood outside the storage den, her eyes settled on Littlekit, who tried balancing on his back paws. Stormkit jumped onto her little sand pile and howled like a wolf. Sandkit copied her, howling along.

“Wolves outside camp!” Littlekit yowled. “Help me, deputy!”

“Yes, Littlestar!” Yellowkit cheered. Littlekit and Yellowkit charged at their brother and sister. They tackled the pair off their perches with dramatic battle cries. 

All the while, Rattlepelt’s glare hardened. Her breath grew heavy. Her eyes were huge, unblinking, dilated so wide they seemed black rather than copper. Her snake-like tail curled behind her, wound tight and shaking.

The premonition began. A sparkling, transparent Rattlepelt launched out from where the real Rattlepelt stood. Her fox pelt tumbled to the sand. Rattlepelt’s sleek form charged into Stormkit, the red kitten’s future tumbling out of her real body. The ghostly Rattlepelt’s sharp fangs dug into Stormkit’s scruff. She lifted the kit, barely a moon old, high. She shook her head violently, like one might shake a rat to death. Future figures of the other three kits screamed in silence as Rattlepelt let go of Stormkit. Stormkit’s limp body flew into the stones and brambles that formed the camp wall. The premonitions had no voice, but Weevilkit could feel her denmate’s bones shatter at the impact. Her chunky body laid limp against the rocks.

Rattlepelt’s foggy form set against the other three kits as the adults, finally aware of the bloodshed, ran to the litter’s defense. A powerful blow there, a strong bite to the skull there, the kits were too small, too scared, they couldn’t get away, their ghostly blood splattered against the sand as all of RippleClan fought to pull Rattlepelt back, unheard caterwauls of bloodthirsty glee reverberating from her—

“No!” Weevilkit screeched before the premonition could end. She ran at Rattlepelt as fast as her untrained paws could carry her. Wolfkit and Anchovykit scrambled to catch up, the imprisoned energy of an entire moon of careful watch released. Rattlepelt took a step forward, claws out. Before the awful vision could unfold any further, Weevilkit launched into Rattlepelt and dug her teeth into the artisan’s bony shoulder.

Rattlepelt yowled as Anchovykit head-butted her side, making her stumble into Wolfkit. Wolfkit flung her paws wildly, reckless claws trying to cling to thin skin. Weevilkit dug deeper and deeper into Rattlepelt’s shoulder until she tasted blood. The sharp, salty taste suddenly reminded her of Rattlepelt and Carnationspeckle, showing Weevilkit and her sisters a pot of hard-to-produce salt, allowing them each a taste. Where did that Rattlepelt go? What sort of curse could bury her passion and fire under so much anger?

“You mangy, flea-bitten piles of bear-shit!” Rattlepelt screeched. She flailed wildly under the three young bodies. Her fox pelt fell over Wolfkit. Weevilkit slid off Rattlepelt’s sleek shoulder, but latched back onto her front paw, preventing her from swiping at Wolfkit. Anchovykit grabbed her other front leg. Something black pooled under his fangs.

Panicked and outraged yowls filled the camp as the adults finally realized their furless artisan friend was under attack. Downstar appeared from the nursery, where she had been meeting with Weedfoot as she rested from kitting. Downstar grabbed Anchovykit and pulled him off Rattlepelt. The black substance vanished as soon as Anchovykit’s jaws unclenched, leaving another bite-wound. Mosspounce dragged Wolfkit away, trapping her in the fox pelt. Someone grabbed Weevilkit by the scruff.

“No!” she cried as the figure wrenched her off Rattlepelt. “I won’t let you hurt them! They’re so small! Why would you do that? You’re a monster! You’re a monster! You can’t hurt them!” Weevilkit’s captor, Waspdawn, dropped her in the sand beside Anchovykit and Wolfkit. Half the Clan gathered around them, yowling and gasping at the blood on Rattlepelt’s gray skin. Waspdawn hissed at her like an enemy warrior. Weevilkit gagged at the blood in her mouth.

“Who attacked who?” Rattlepelt spat as Wildclaw shoved through the crowd. She sniffed her mate’s wounds.

“What were you thinking?” she growled, lips curled, glaring at the three kits. Wildclaw licked the deep bite on Rattlepelt’s shoulder.

“Just take me to Troutpool,” Rattlepelt snapped, pulling her shoulder away. She marched toward the medicine den, fox pelt abandoned. No one dared stand in her way. Wildclaw ran after her, shooting claws from her eyes toward Anchovykit, Weevilkit, and Wolfkit.

“You three,” Waspdawn hissed, short tail thrashing. “Walk. That way. Now.” He shoved Anchovykit toward the dirt-place path. Weevilkit and Wolfkit hurried alongside their friend, braving the shocked stares of the Clan as Waspdawn escorted them to their doom.

“I’m not doubting you acted for a good reason,” Wolfkit whispered, voice shaky, “but what did you see?” There were no words in Weevilkit’s mouth; only blood and the memory of cat flesh.

Waspdawn herded the three kits around the shipwreck and into the quarantine den. Anchovykit puffed himself up under Waspdawn’s furious gray glare, matching the codekeeper’s expression. Weevilkit could still hear the Clan yowling and debating what had unfolded, yet lacking answers. Downstar herself appeared around the corner, emotions hidden under a sharp and studious gaze.

“Explain yourselves, right now,” Waspdawn growled, unafraid to show his claws. The kits said nothing. Anchovykit and Wolfkit glanced at Weevilkit. “This isn’t a game! You just attacked a Clanmate, and I want to know why!”

Why? Why? What could Weevilkit say? Had she not acted, Waspdawn would be mourning at least one of his cute little kittens. He should be thanking Weevilkit for saving their lives! 

“Weevilkit, what were you yowling about?” Downstar asked, her voice far more controlled than the golden codekeeper’s. 

Flesh. Cat flesh, bleeding into her mouth. It was so wrong. Not in a supernatural sense, but… was that what warriors did? Bite into the flesh of other cats as easily as they would prey? Would Weevilkit have to do that again if she hoped to protect her friends, her family?

“Weevilkit, say something,” Wolfkit begged.

“Wait a moment!” Honeybuzz hurried into the den with something long dangling on his back. Weevilkit broke out of her stupor when she realized Honeybuzz was carrying a dead snake.

“Honeybuzz, shouldn’t you be helping Rattlepelt?” Downstar asked as Honeybuzz set down the snake. 

“And what is that?” Waspdawn huffed. He nudged the snake.

“Carnationspeckle caught this rattlesnake before it could bite a member of her patrol yesterday,” Honeybuzz explained. “It’s the only venomous snake that lives near the Clans.” Weevilkit peered at the dead beast. Its gray scales were so much like Rattlepelt’s skin…. “I’ve been wondering if it was an omen related to Rattlepelt. I was going to speak to her this morning, but you three needed to see her more, it seems.” 

“Weevilkit had a good reason!” Anchovykit yowled, standing in front of his friends.

“Then why won’t she tell us?” Waspdawn hissed. “And why did you two join her?” Wolfkit stared at her paws. Honeybuzz gently nudged Anchovykit aside. With Weevilkit being small for her age, and Honeybuzz being one of the lankiest cats she knew, the cleric loomed over her like a giant pine. Yet he crouched, lowering himself to Weevilkit’s level.

“Weevilkit,” Honeybuzz said softly, “you can tell me why you attacked Rattlepelt. Whatever the reason was, I’ll listen. I know you. You’re cocky, but not vicious. Anchovykit and Wolfkit listened to you for a reason. What was it?”

“She…” Weevilkit gulped. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, bleeding and smooth like Rattlepelt’s flesh. She couldn’t stop tasting blood. “Rattlepelt’s cursed. She was going to hurt them. They’re so little, Honeybuzz! What have they done to hurt her? They’re innocent!” StarClan, Weevilkit’s voice couldn’t break now! She was the leader of this strange trio, she had to be strong! She couldn’t cry in front of Honeybuzz, in front of Downstar! “She was so cruel. I couldn’t let her kill them.” Honeybuzz nodded along while Waspdawn’s tail thrashed derisively. 

“Who do you think she was going to hurt?” Waspdawn huffed.

“Your kits!” Weevilkit cried, gagging on her tongue. “She was going to kill Stormkit. It was awful, Honeybuzz! It was awful!” She couldn’t stop shaking, no matter how much she wanted to. Anchovykit growled, his warrior’s courage burning brighter at the reason for his first battle. Wolfkit stared at Weevilkit and Waspdawn, horrified. Waspdawn curled his puffed-up tail close to himself, holding tight to his confidence posturing, even as it cracked.

“How can you know that?” Downstar asked, creeping closer.

“Because she sees the future!” Anchovykit snapped, his whole body turning into one giant puffball, standing strong under the hard looks of the adults. “She saw it happen, and she stopped it! And she’s right! Rattlepelt is cursed! There’s ichor all over her and only I can see it! I swear it’s real! And Wolfkit, she’s special too! Show them, Wolfkit!” Wolfkit flinched at her name.

“I don’t want to get in more trouble,” she gulped.

“Wolfkit,” Downstar huffed, the caution in her tone vanishing. “Show us.”

“Like we practiced, Wolfie,” Weevilkit managed to say, swallowing hard through her fear. Wolfkit nodded, head barely moving. She stared at Waspdawn with as confident a stare as the scared fuzzy molly could muster. Waspdawn’s tense shoulders froze. He paused mid-breath. The sudden absence of his heavy breathing shocked everyone in the den. Downstar and Honeybuzz gawked at Waspdawn. Downstar waved her tail in front of Waspdawn’s face, but he did not react. Honeybuzz put his paw on Waspdawn’s side, and still he did not move.

“Wolfkit can freeze you in place!” Anchovykit explained. Wolfkit blinked hard. Waspdawn snapped back to life, jumping at Honeybuzz’s sudden touch. “We’re all special, and we’ve been making sure Rattlepelt’s curse doesn’t hurt anyone!”

“This sounds like something from an ancient story,” Downstar muttered as Waspdawn fought to collect himself.

“I believe you,” Honeybuzz said.

“What?” Weevilkit gasped. The horror gripping her throat slipped away. Her heart still burned, but she could breath.

“I believe you three,” Honeybuzz said, nodding and turning to Downstar. “Downstar, do you remember the prophecy I received a few moons ago, the one I brought up to Estherfern after her arrival? It was about blessings and curses. Estherfern theorized it was about StarClan and the Dark Forest, and I think she’s partially right. I think these kits are the blessings from that prophecy.”

“That can’t be true,” Waspdawn muttered, but he no longer sounded confident in himself.

“We have stories of strange abilities in our history,” Honeybuzz pointed out. “If the historians tell those tales, they have to have happened. The other clerics might know more about it, but I believe StarClan wanted to make sure I help these kits.” He believed them. He believed them!

“Say this is true,” Downstar huffed, closing her eyes and collecting herself. “We’ve been ignoring something else the kits have been saying. Anchovykit, how do you know Rattlepelt is cursed?”

“I see curses,” Anchovykit explained. “Well, I think. I also see blessings too, maybe. Oilstripe’s eyes glow, and Weevilkit and Wolfkit, there’s this little shine to their pelts. Other things glow too, like the medicine den and the clerics, but not always. I think it’s when you’re doing rituals or something.” Weevilkit didn’t know she glowed! The world must look so pretty from Anchovykit’s eyes. “Rattlepelt is different. She has this black mud all over her legs, and it never stops flowing! Her eyes look weird to me too. I know they’re supposed to be copper, but to me, they look bright yellow.” Downstar froze, but not because of Wolfkit’s gaze.

“Yellow eyes?” Downstar gulped.

“It was different from when I saw Tempestshade in my dream,” Anchovykit said. “Oh, uh, I saw them too. It’s how I learned what it is I see!”

“Honeybuzz,” Downstar gulped, ears and whiskers flattening. “The Shardling.” Honeybuzz cocked his head for a moment, confused. Then his expression mirrored Downstar’s, tail tucked and back arched. Waspdawn backed out of the den.

“What’s a Shardling?” Wolfkit hesitantly asked. Downstar took a shaky breath.

“Has anyone told you three about the Rippling Ashes?” she asked. “It happened shortly before you were born. Weedfoot, Darkkick, and Paleseed entered the Dark Forest to fight Autumnstar, who had cursed all of AshClan. Weedfoot destroyed his spirit in the battle. When a Dark Forest spirit dies, they break apart into monsters called Shardlings. They house small elements of emotion and memory leftover from the former spirit. One of Autumnstar’s Shardlings attacked Weedfoot and gave her that scar on her leg.”

“Rattlepelt was right next to her when that happened,” Waspdawn gulped, claws digging into the sand outside. “She was wrapping her wounds.”

“So the Shardling cursed her?” Weevilkit guessed.

“We don’t think Rattlepelt is cursed, Weevilkit,” Honeybuzz said, fighting his own fear to speak. “We think she’s possessed.”

“Like a ghost?” Wolfkit yelped, sticking close to Weevilkit.

“That’s why her mood has changed so much,” Downstar gasped, shaking her head. “StarClan, I… I would never have known. Autumnstar had yellow eyes. Anchovykit, you’re seeing the Shardling’s eyes when you look at Rattlepelt.”

“Cursed, possessed, I want to stop it,” Anchovykit snapped. “If you believe us, can you help us hold her down?”

“What would that do?” Waspdawn asked.

“I thought I said it already,” Anchovykit said, lifting his chin high. “I don’t just see curses. I can remove them, too.”

(Weevilkit: 5, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfkit: 5, female, kit, polite, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Anchovykit: 5, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Stormkit: 1, female, kit, noisy, loves to eat)

(Sandkit: 1, male, kit, self-conscious, interested in Clan history)

(Littlekit: 1, male, kit, skittish, splashes in puddles)

(Yellowkit: 1, female, kit, noisy, quick to make peace)

(Rattlepelt: 53, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

(Wildclaw: 62, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Waspdawn: 36, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Downstar: 129, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Honeybuzz: 18, male, cleric, daring, constantly fiddling with tools)

[rippleclan]

Year 7 Allegiances

Leader:

Downstar - a gray/pale ginger tortoiseshell molly

131, wise, trusted advisor, very clever

Deputy:

Weedfoot - a rosetted silver molly

121, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter

Clerics:

Estherfern - a dark brown tabby molly

106, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker

Troutpool - a long-furred cream and white tabby molly

33, insecure, ghost sense

Honeybuzz- a gold and white rosette tom

20, daring, skilled toolsmith

Apprentice: Weevilpaw

Mediators:

Spikecrash - a masked dark brown tabby molly

47, wise, good speaker, lore keeper

Paleseed - a speckled silver molly

38, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws

Apprentice: Slushpaw

Artisans:

Rabbitjoy - a golden-brown smoke molly

109, charismatic, master weaver

Rattlepelt - a furless silver and white molly

55, thoughtful, leather artist

Mitespark - a black rosette molly

14, charismatic, great mediator

Apprentice: Ravenpaw

Historians:

Oilstripe - a ginger tabby molly

76, charismatic, ghost speaker

Lavendertwist - a ginger smoke and white tom

38, playful, great singer, good storyteller

Apprentice: Tallowpaw

Splashtuft - a long-furred, masked, gold and white tabby tom

20, adventurous, fast runner, student of art

Apprentice: Billowpaw

Codekeepers:

Lemmy - a dark gray/pale ginger tortie molly

48, cold, deep StarClan bond

Apprentice: Vervainpaw

Waspdawn - a rosetted golden and white tom with half a tail

38, strict, learner of lore, clue finder

Apprentice: Wolfpaw

Puddlewhisper - a speckled silver and white molly

38, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense

Apprentice: Silverpaw

Caretakers:

Carnationspeckle - a brown and white ticked molly

74, compassionate, fish-like swimmer

Clammask - a masked golden tabby molly

66, righteous, lore master, good teacher

Wildclaw - a gray tabby molly

64, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter

Apprentice: Potterypaw

Elmsprout - a long-furred silver smoke and white molly

39, charismatic, helpful insight

Apprentice: Currentpaw

Mosspounce - a black tabby tom

33, adventurous, talented fire-starter

Drumtooth - a dark gray tabby tom

20, loyal, great hunter, clever

Asterblaze - a silver tabby tom

19, thoughtful, constantly fiddling with tools

Warriors:

Darkkick - a long-furred dark gray bengal trans molly

132, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature

Rapidleaf - a golden brown tabby molly

90, lonesome, prophecy interpreter

Apprentice: Yarrowpaw

Halibutdusk - a gray tabby cat

64, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever

Apprentice: Anchovypaw

Trumpetspore - a dark gray tabby molly

33, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller

Scaleripple - a long-furred golden tom with vitiligo

25, lonesome, formidable fighter

Apprentice: Moonpaw

Leathermask - a long-furred, masked, golden brown and white tabby tom

20, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker

Apprentices:

Tallowpaw - a light brown and white ticked tabby tom

8, nervous, splashes in puddles

Slushpaw - a dark brown and white tabby molly

8, wise, quick witted, bats at string

Potterypaw - a dark ginger tabby molly

7, insecure, loves to sing

Moonpaw - a long-furred, white rosette molly

7, faithful, quick to help

Vervainpaw - a black tabby molly

7, ambitious, loves nature, quick to make peace

Weevilpaw - a dark gray/dark ginger tortie molly

7, adventurous, curious about StarClan

Ravenpaw - a black molly

7, nervous, picky nest builder, quick witted

Silverpaw - a gray smoke molly

7, strict, always asking questions, quick witted

Wolfpaw - a gray tabby molly

7, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words

Anchovypaw - a light brown and white tabby tom

7, playful, curious about StarClan

Currentpaw - a white and dark ginger smoke tom

7, loving, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas

Yarrowpaw - a dark brown and white molly

7, thoughtful, stares at fire

Billowpaw - a dark brown and white tom

7, thoughtful, active imagination

Elders:

James - a long-furred, dorsal-striped, pale ginger and white tom

148, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter

Kits:

Thunderkit - a brown molly

4, bullying, moss-ball hunter

Boughkit - a brown ticked molly

4, quiet, constantly climbing

Brightkit - a ginger tabby tom

4, shy, lover of art

Foamkit - a brown ticked molly

4, unruly, always wandering

Wolverinekit - a brown tabby molly

4, skittish, always asking questions

Yellowkit - a white and gold rosette molly

3, noisy, quick to make peace

Sandkit - a white tom

3, self-conscious, interested in Clan history

Littlekit - a speckled ginger and white tom

3, skittish, splashes in puddles

Stormkit - a masked ginger and white tabby molly

3, know-it-all, loves to eat

Lightningkit - a dorsal-striped ginger molly

2, self-conscious, always wandering

Cobaltkit - a black and white rosette molly

2, quiet, loves to eat

[rippleclan]

Any chance we could get a quick list of which kitten belongs to which RippleClan cats? I was already struggling to keep track before this update!

Oilstripe’s litter: Tallowkit, Slushkit

Clammask’s litter: Potterykit, Moonkit, Vervainkit

Lemmy’s litter: Weevilkit, Ravenkit, Silverkit, Wolfkit

Harvest’s litter: Anchovykit, Currentkit, Robinkit, Yarrowkit, Billowkit

Waspdawn’s litter: Yellowkit, Sandkit, Littlekit, Stormkit

Estherfern’s litter: Thunderkit, Boughkit, Brightkit, Foamkit, Wolverinekit