#Estherfern

[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]

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 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 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 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]

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 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