#Estherfern

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 90, Part 2

Despite fighting his infection, Waspdawn puts the pieces together regarding recent events and confronts his culprit.

[Image ID: Waspdawn says to Oilstripe "Before we do anything, I need to talk to her. I need to understand. Can you be my backup, Oilstripe?"]

Potterypool killed Achilles. At least, she helped, if what Vervaincough and Venturedapple reported was true. It would explain the long brown fur found in her wounds. But Achilles could not have killed Potterypool or Lightningrunner. There was someone else involved. And as Waspdawn thought it through, the faceless spirit that haunted RippleClan over the course of an entire moon began to speak its name.

"I'm not sure you're well enough for this, Waspdawn," Oilstripe muttered as Waspdawn bit an itch just under his bandages. It hurt whenever the tip of his tail touched anything, and his fever came and went, but he still stood in the leader's den with Oilstripe, explaining his theory as night began to fall.

"It's a conversation," Waspdawn huffed. "If she puts up a fight, there are plenty of souls in camp to help me."

"We should just send Wolfgaze to fetch her," Oilstripe sighed, peering around Waspdawn and into the snowy camp. "She can freeze her and bring her for questioning."

"I need to be sure," Waspdawn grunted, moving back in front of his deputy. "Before we do anything, I need to talk to her. I need to understand. Can you be my backup, Oilstripe?" Oilstripe stared at something to Waspdawn's side. A spirit? He could only guess when Oilstripe's eyes wandered. If it was Potterypool or Lightningrunner's ghosts, maybe they could just confirm Waspdawn's accusations and they would all be done with it. But that wasn't how Oilstripe's powers worked, was it?

"She's on Downstar's hunting patrol," Oilstripe finally sighed. "It's nearly last light. They should be back soon. I'll let you have your confrontation, but I'm stepping in the moment she tries to run. Do you understand?" Waspdawn nodded deeply, chin touching his chest. Oilstripe sighed again, shaking out her inner fury.

The two cats left Downstar's den, eyes sharpening with the brilliant glow of the camp's bonfire. Oilstripe paced around the Shiprock, but Waspdawn lingered close to the nursery. Deep within the warm den, Puddlewhisper laid with her back to the world. Waspdawn could hear the gentle sniffles and shuffles of his new niece and nephew inside, hidden at his sister's belly. Barely a day together, and Puddlewhisper seemed perfectly content with the pair. Try as he might, the same warmth that filled his chest when Gingerpaw and Frostpaw were born simply wasn't there this time. These kits were meant for a different life, a life stolen from them by not just their selfish mother but by Potterypool and the culprit that would soon return home. Those kits deserved an answer to the question of their lives.

As the last creeping vines of sunlight snaked deeper into the forest and out of sight, Downstar entered the camp, a large fish in her jaws. Her fluffy pelt stuck up at odd angles, damp from saltwater. Oilstripe and Waspdawn jogged to meet her.

"Remind me to bring Drumtooth on more rafting patrols," Downstar purred, gently setting her salty catch down. "He's a natural diver." Drumtooth and Asterblaze, both as damp as their leader, whipped around Downstar, Oilstripe, and Waspdawn with their own catches, quickly placing them on the fresh-kill pile and racing for the bonfire. Downstar's good mood dimmed as the expressions on Oilstripe and Waspdawn's faces sunk in.

"I'll explain over here," Oilstripe muttered as the culprit crept between the thorns lining the camp entrance, her pelt perfectly dry, her yellow collar standing out like a sunbeam with the fire's glow. Waspdawn forced his eyes to soften as Oilstripe guided Downstar to the side of camp.

"Lemmy," Waspdawn said casually. "Good hunting?"

"You'll have to thank Drumtooth, not me," Lemmy sighed with a dismissive twitch of her whiskers. "I stayed on shore and made sure the raft didn't capsize." She moved as though about to walk past Waspdawn, but paused and stared closer at him. "You seem tense." Her own face dropped, ever so slightly. "Something happened to Mosspounce."

"No, no," Waspdawn stammered, quickly shaking his head. "No, Mosspounce is alright, he was sharing tongues with Washington when I last saw him." Lemmy's prickly fur relaxed. "No, I just wanted to talk to you, in private. Can we sit at the Resting Place?"

"If you need to," Lemmy hummed, stretching her back out. "Let's make this quick, though. I'm ready to sleep." Lemmy strolled back out of the camp. Waspdawn glanced at Oilstripe and Downstar. The former whispered in the latter's ear, relaying everything Waspdawn had told her. Downstar's mouth drooped open, ears twitching in tiny movements as she absorbed the truth of it all. Waspdawn left them to their revelation and followed Lemmy to the log outside of camp.

The Resting Place was covered in snow, but imprints of lounging cats marked its surface. Lemmy sat with her tail dangling off the log, waiting for her fellow codekeeper. Waspdawn jumped up and sat beside her. He grit his teeth when his tail rested against the decaying wood.

"Should you be out here with your tail?" Lemmy asked.

"Like you said, this will be quick," Waspdawn said, swallowing the pain. He settled his gaze on the dark sea. "We learned that Achilles is dead today. I don't think you've had a chance to hear." Lemmy flicked an ear.

"It's better for all of us that he's gone," Lemmy said. "I knew him well. You would never have convinced him you weren't a threat to the Other Side. He could have attacked us at any time."

"I won't deny that," Waspdawn said. "Do you want to know how he died, Lemmy?" Lemmy flicked an ear again. She matched Waspdawn's cold stare into the freezing ocean beyond. "A witness told us Potterypool killed him. Not alone, though. We didn't get to hear much else, but do you want to hear my theory?" Lemmy stayed still this time. Waspdawn shifted his gaze to the tortoiseshell killer. "I think Potterypool did kill Achilles. She killed him because you asked for her help. And then you killed her."

Lemmy said nothing. Her tail dusted snow off the Resting Place. A boreal owl hooted somewhere in the forest. The wind echoed in Waspdawn's ears. His tail was no longer his biggest source of pain.

"Here's what I think happened," Waspdawn said. "You were out of camp at the same time as Potterypool. You met along the river, likely by coincidence. At that time, you saw either Nimble or Achilles. If Venturedapple knew who Nimble was, I assume you'd know her from stories at least. Nimble built her kitting nest not far from the river, and she was close to her mate. It would make sense for both of them to make camp and hunt along the river. Regardless of which cat you saw, you decided it wasn't safe for the Clan to have Achilles at our border. Potterypool agreed. So you both crossed the river and hunted Achilles down.

"Potterypool took the brunt of Achilles' attacks, as her wounds tell us. Eventually, though, you both killed him. But Nimble was watching. I think Potterypool realized Nimble was pregnant and regretted taking a father from his kits. She was going to confess your shared murder, but you disagreed. You argued, and it escalated until Potterypool was dead at your paws." Waspdawn sneered as he talked. "You buried her in hopes no one would find out, and you cleaned yourself off before you returned to camp, as though nothing happened.

"But you still weren't safe. Lightningrunner was out of camp too. I think she saw something, likely the burial. She didn't realize what she saw until later, she may not have fully understood, even then. That's because I believe she spoke to you about it in private, and you knew you had to silence her. So you tracked her to Battle Beach and ambushed her when she was alone! Tell me I'm wrong, Lemmy!"

Lemmy didn't respond for a while. Waspdawn's claws poked through the snow.

"You're wrong," Lemmy said. Waspdawn held his breath. "I didn't kill Lightningrunner. I had no part in that. But Potterypool…" Lemmy sunk off the Resting Place. She sighed deeply. "I couldn't let Achilles hurt anyone else in RippleClan. He nearly killed your brother. His death was justified, but Potterypool didn't understand. It all went too far. I'm… sorry, Waspdawn."

"If you're sorry," Waspdawn growled, voice struggling not to spike, "then you'll come with me and face trial for both of their murders. You don't get to deny Lightningrunner's death. You can't hide your ruthlessness."

"You're an intelligent cat, Waspdawn," Lemmy huffed. "You figured out nearly everything that unfolded with Potterypool. But Lightningrunner? Your story is just that. A story. You have no proof she and I ever interacted."

"She had a conversation with Mosspounce, it stuck with her," Waspdawn snapped. "She realized what she saw."

"You're searching for an easy way out," Lemmy snapped back. "If I killed Lightningrunner, where was my scent? I was hunting that day. Do you think I found the time to catch a fish and kill Lightningrunner, all the while escaping her patrol?"

"If you're sorry for Potterypool's death," Waspdawn hissed, jumping off the Resting Place, "then why aren't you sorry for killing my sister?"

"Take me prisoner," Lemmy growled, sitting with her tail over her unseathed claws. "You found me out, and I won't run from it. I'll tell the truth. I'll take my punishment. I know what I did was wrong. I'll tell it all at my trial, whether you like what I have to say or not."

The moments after that blurred in Waspdawn's memory. Escorting Lemmy to the quarantine den, gathering her family, informing the codekeepers… it all happened in a flicker of light, the flap of a wing. Had Waspdawn done it? Had be outed the Clanmate who had his sister's blood on her paws?

Or was Lemmy, for the first time in a moon, telling the entire truth?

(Waspdawn: 56, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Oilstripe: 94, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Puddlewhisper: 56, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Downstar: 149, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Lemmy: 66, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond, good mediator)

Honeybuzz and Estherfern ask Lemmy for a favor.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Estherfern approach Lemmy.]

---

Lemmy asked for no visitors. One of the few things she dared to ask of RippleClan now. What could she say to her mate, to her daughters and her friends? She would say it all at her trial and face her execution with dignity.

It had been a few days since the truth came out, at least what Waspdawn declared to be the truth. She had been caught, that was true, but Lightningrunner's blood did not stain her fangs. That murderer was still out there. She owed it to RippleClan to make them see that. For now, though, in the late night before her grand trial, she stayed under guard in the quarantine den, eyes closed, yet not asleep. Simply waiting.

Soft voices outside the den stirred her from her few thoughts. She opened one eye. Honeybuzz and Estherfern stood outside, speaking with Rapidleaf and Brightreed. Lemmy couldn't hear their words. She turned with her back to the newcomers, tucking her face into the worn moss of her prisoner's nest.

"How is this den so cold?" Honeybuzz asked, shivering as he and Estherfern entered the den. "We keep patients here! We can't let it get this chilly!"

"Focus," Estherfern huffed. Their pawsteps grew closer. Lemmy could feel their breath on her back.

"Is this some sort of death rite?" Lemmy sighed, giving into their presence. She sat up, her collar twisting against her neck. To her surprise, she could no longer see Rapidleaf and Brightreed's vague forms outside.

"You're not going to be executed," Honeybuzz insisted, sitting beside the damned molly's nest. "Downstar just brought it up because—"

"Because I won't admit to a murder I didn't commit," Lemmy huffed, lips curling. "My story will be the same at the trial. I am not Lightningrunner's killer."

"We're trying to help you, you stupid kit," Estherfern suddenly spat, matching Lemmy's expression.

"Do you care about justice or a simple solution?" Lemmy snapped. Her whiskers nearly touched Estherfern's as the two mollies growled at each other.

"You're not the only cat we're trying to help, Lemmy," Honeybuzz hissed, forcing himself between her and Estherfern. Estherfern huffed and sat in the remnants of an old nest. Honeybuzz's cicada wing necklace bounced against his chest as he settled back down. "Now, can you please listen to us? The rest of the Clan thinks we're here to help you clear your conscience. We know you didn't kill Lightningrunner, but we need you to admit to it anyway." Lemmy stared unblinking at Honeybuzz. Honeybuzz met her intensity and raised it, desperation mixed into his natural confidence.

"The Clan is in danger so long as her true killer is out there," Lemmy growled. "Lightningrunner was killed from behind, without mercy. Why would I protect them?"

"You don't know the full story," Estherfern muttered.

"The Clan thinks you're guilty now," Honeybuzz explained before Lemmy could probe Estherfern's ominous statement, "but if you insist on your innocence with Lightningrunner's death, eventually cats will start asking questions again. For the good of the Clan, we can't have them ask questions. It would shatter families. I don't want anyone else to go through what my family is feeling." While it was far from the first time guilt gripped her guts, a new regret itched inside of Lemmy. She stole Honeybuzz's sister from him, yet Honeybuzz didn't call for Lemmy's blood to stain the forest floor like Vervaincough and Halibutdusk had upon the reveal.

"Who killed her, then?" Lemmy asked softly. Honeybuzz glanced at Estherfern. The old brown cleric nodded. Then Honeybuzz said a name, the last name Lemmy could ever imagine tearing into the back of Lightningrunner's neck.

"Whitepaw."

(Lemmy: 66, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond, good mediator)

(Honeybuzz: 38, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Estherfern: 124, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

[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 90, Part 1

Estherfern drips an infection-fighting concoction into Mosspounce’s eyes, not paying attention to his protests. She needs to stop the infection before it gets any worse.

[Image ID: Estherfern and Honeybuzz stand around Mosspounce, treating him while Washington watches in the back. Under Mosspounce, it says + INFECTION. Under Honeybuzz, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

"Shouldn't you be doing some sort of ritual?" Mosspounce groaned as Estherfern shoved his chin up. His bloody eyes stared at nothing, yellow pus pooling around his torn eyelids. Pale white light drifted inside the medicine den, bouncing off the paw-deep snow covering camp.

"Like what, contact StarClan for medical advice?" Estherfern muttered, removing the leather lid from an empty bottle. "Apparently StarClan only has the energy for one proper channeling a year, and we spent that on Currentsmoke's jaw. We're doing everything we know we can, Mosspounce." Estherfern grabbed the bottle in her jaws and lowered it into the warm pot beside her. A freshly brewed concoction sat within the pot, packed full of infection-killing herbs. Estherfern dipped the bottle into the concoction, accidentally getting some on her lips. She tilted her head to the side to keep the botte face-up. Then she slowly brought it over Mosspounce's face and poured a splash of the concoction onto his eyes.

Mosspounce hissed, flinching back, but Honeybuzz was there to help. He stood behind Mosspounce and gently shoved the injured caretaker back into place, allowing Estherfern to set the bottle down and massage the concoction in. Mosspounce's claws poked his nest.

"Your body is killing itself in an effort to kill this infection," Estherfern huffed. "This will give your body an ally in that fight. So stay still!" Estherfern removed her paws from Mosspounce's eyes and rubbed them clean on the medicine den's leather floor. Mosspounce groaned as Honeybuzz grabbed fresh bandages and wrapped them around Mosspounce's face.

"Will he be alright?" Estherfern hid her surprise well as she faced the cat resting a few tail-lengths away, a splint and bandages wrapped around his back leg. Estherfern had truthfully forgotten Washington was there. The old tom (and she truly meant old, she had never met a cat who claimed to live over two hundred moons before) watched Mosspounce carefully, gaze sharp and twitching as though he were the one with a concoction burning into his eyes.

Washington had not said much in the quarter moon since his arrival to RippleClan, clearly mourning those he lost in the shipwreck offshore. Remnants of that ship now reinforced part of the medicine den's walls. There had been so much wood, in fact, that the caretakers were able to take apart a decaying portion of the medicine den's back wall and build it into the hollows of the main shipwreck, allowing more room for herbal preparation, rituals, and sleeping patients. Washington now slept in the remains of his former home, silently watching his new home swirl about.

"We're doing what we can," Honeybuzz promised, releasing Mosspounce. "Do you need something, Washington?"

"No, no, I'm comfortable," Washington muttered.

"I'm not," Mosspounce groaned, curling into a ball. "Can I have something for my pain?" His whiskers twitched as his face squirmed, biting back a mrow of frustration.

"Can you fight through for a bit longer?" Honeybuzz asked. "Troutpool and Weevilsight should be back with more willow bark soon."

"You know what would shut him up and keep him warm?" Estherfern muttered, rubbing her paws clean on the snow outside. "A smoke-den."

"You know we don't do that, Estherfern," Honeybuzz sighed. Estherfern could feel his disapproving stare against the back of her head.

"Forgive the interupption," Washington croaked in the back, "but if a smoke-den, as you called it, could help this kit with his pain, why not try it?"

"Kit?" Mosspounce groaned. "I'm a father!"

"Smoke-dens are a tradition in SlugClan, one of the other Clans," Honeybuzz explained, joining Washington's side. "They burn herbs like catmint and valerian to enter an overly relaxed, trance-like state. Downstar always saw it as a waste of herbs, so we don't use smoke-dens in RippleClan."

"You might not understand it," Washington sighed, "but back on my ship, my humans would sit around with sticks in their mouths, blowing smoke at one another. They were at their calmest when they did that. Not a pleasant smell, no, but it's a wonderful feeling to be sitting on a human's lap as they relax, listening to their purr." Honeybuzz squirmed at Washington's description, yet somewhere in Estherfern's memories, she could remember a human's paw stroking her back, soothing her into quiet dreams.

"What is it like to be on a ship?" Mosspounce asked, slightly lifting his head from his ball of shame. "What are they like when they're floating?"

"Well, not everyone likes the way the ground shifts under your paws," Washington mused, "but I'm a ship-cat, through and through. I love it."

"Tell me more," Mosspounce begged. He shifted toward Washington's scent.

"Estherfern." Outside the den, Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn stood in the snow, pelts dull in the shiny light. The weight of Waspdawn's infection was evident in the way his footing seemed unsteady on flat ground, yet he matched his sister's blank, focused expression.

"Are you going to rest now, Waspdawn?" Estherfern muttered. Behind her, Honeybuzz helped Mosspounce over to Washington's nest. It could have been the snow-light's reflection, but Estherfern swore Washington had a sparkle in his eyes as he dove into stories of massive ships coursing across the sea.

"Do you have the fur samples we collected from Potterypool?" Puddlewhisper asked.

"Troutpool's kept them safe," Estherfern promised. She crossed over to Troutpool's nest, covered in plush leather expertly tanned by Rattlepelt. Estherfern shuffled through the thick layers of the nest until she found a small vial. She grabbed a scrap of leather the clerics used to wipe medicine from their paws and lips. She placed the scrap in front of Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn, opened the vial, and carefully poured out the contents. Strands of dark fur fluttered out.

Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn nodded to each other in some secret littermate language. Puddlewhisper jogged off to the bonfire in the center of camp, which projected warmth into all the dens. She grabbed a dry stick beside the fire. She carefully tilted the stick into the flames. The fire licked the tip of the stick and climbed on. Puddlewhisper hurried back to the medicine den, head tilted hard to the right to keep the tip of the torch aloft. She plunged the torch into the snow and sand a safe distance from the wooden shipwreck. Waspdawn tugged the leather scrap closer to the light. Honeybuzz stood beside Estherfern, focused more on the dangerously close torch than the codekeepers' work.

Puddlewhisper carefully pawed at a few strands of fur. With the firelight, even Estherfern could better make out each strand's details. The fur at Puddlewhisper's paw was black, perhaps dark gray, and fairly short. Yet there were other strands beside Waspdawn that were long and the color of dark leather. They all looked the same without such clear light illuminating through every hair.

"You were right, Puddlewhisper," Waspdawn muttered. "These samples don't come from the same cat." Estherfern's shoulders tensed.

"What does that mean?" Honeybuzz asked softly. Puddlewhisper pulled the torch out of the ground and submerged it into the snow, quickly dousing the flame. Smoke drifted from the suddenly melted slush.

"It's not wise to make assumptions," Puddlewhisper sighed, "but we pulled these samples from Potterypool's claws and wounds. We can't determine the context, but we can say that Potterypool fought with more than one cat the day she died. We may be looking for two killers."

(Mosspounce: 51, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Estherfern: 124, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Honeybuzz: 38, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Washington: 218, male, elder, nervous, good mediator)

(Puddlewhisper: 56, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Waspdawn: 56, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

Gingerpaw asks to be apprenticed to Estherfern, while Frostpaw becomes Rabbitjoy’s newest artisan apprentice. Honeybuzz gives Gingerpaw a maple seed necklace.

[Image ID: Gingerpaw and Frostpaw are now both apprentices, though Gingerpaw has a maple seed tucked by his ear. Under Gingerpaw, it reads LEVEL UP! GINGERKIT → GINGERPAW, CHARMING → CHILDISH, + NEW SKILL: MOSS-BALL HUNTER, + ACCESSORY: MAPLE SEED. Under Frostpaw, it says LEVEL UP! FROSTKIT → FROSTPAW, QUIET → STRICT.]

(Gingerpaw: 6, male, cleric apprentice, childish, curious about humans, moss-ball hunter)

(Frostpaw: 6, female, artisan apprentice, strict, lover of stories)

Puddlewhisper is determined to solve her little sister’s murder.

[Image ID: Puddlewhisper, Vervaincough, and Venturedapple watch a brown rosette molly with blue eyes run off with a brown speckled kit. Puddlewhisper yowls "Hold on!" Under the kit, it says NEW PLAYER: QUICK, 0, FEMALE, KNOW-IT-ALL. Under the brown molly, it says NEW PLAYER: NIMBLE, 45, FEMALE, RIGHTEOUS, GOOD SWIMMER.]

---

Everything was bitter. The last three days had been so bitterly cold that even Scaleripple and Venturedapple, with two of the thickest pelts in the Clan, couldn't stay out of camp for long. The mice and squirrels had been eating something, something that made Puddlewhisper's mouth curl no matter how well the caretakers cooked the meat. And that was without mentioning the way Puddlewhisper's teeth ached to dig into guilty flesh. The bitterness had reached her heart, pushing her into the snow.

Another look around. Another try. For Lightningrunner.

Puddlewhisper stalked through the snow. She placed her paws in the prints left by previous patrols, reducing the sound of crunching snow to a mutter. Her ears turned with every creaking branch or scuttering leaf. Her tail waved back and forth, a reflection of her rising frustration. She kept at a slow pace, though, sniffing at the base of a fir.

She could see Battle Beach through the trees, although the sand had been consumed by snow, blurring the border between the forest and the shoreline. The fur on the back of Puddlewhisper's neck itched. Phantom fangs pierced her spine. It was so bad that she had to stop and scratch her neck, sending a few tufts of winter fluff floating into the snow.

"We've been here half the morning, Puddlewhisper," a voice groaned from the trees. "I don't think anyone's going to show up." Two pairs of gray eyes peered at Puddlewhisper from the snow-heavy needles of a black spruce. Vervaincough and Venturedapple leaped out of the tree and landed gracefully beside Puddlewhisper.

"Stars damn it," Puddlewhisper hissed, settling her itchy body. "I was certain someone would stop me from 'confirming my theory'. I suppose it wasn't likely to succeed."

"Because they know you're smarter than to talk about 'almost solving the murders' in the middle of camp," Venturedapple muttered.

"It was worth a try, Venturedapple," Vervaincough snapped, her tail smacking against Venturedapple's half-furred tail. Venturedapple dipped his head to the mourning molly.

"You can go back to camp if you want, Venturedapple," Puddlewhisper sighed. "I'm going to look around more. Maybe I can figure out how Lightningrunner's killer managed to get away from the rest of the patrol so easily…" Puddlewhisper studied the layout of the trees, looking for an easy hiding spot.

"I'm staying too, then," Vervaincough huffed, standing next to Puddlewhisper. "There has to be something I can tell my family when I get back."

"It wouldn't be right to leave you two alone," Venturedapple sighed, shaking his head. "We're too close to the river."

"Do you and Lemmy still think a Witch Hunter killed them?" Puddlewhisper asked. "There's no way a Witch Hunter could have killed Lightningrunner and returned to the human settlement without leaving some type of trail."

"Actually, no," Venturedapple said simply, sitting at the base of the spruce. "The cats who follow Pearl wouldn't have a reason to do this. However, there were some cats who were loyal to Achilles when he and Pearl fought for the title of Witch Hunter General. Perhaps the killer is one of the minority who still view the Clans as witches to be exterminated."

"I can see why you left them," Vervaincough huffed, fluffing her pelt against a bitter breeze whistling through the trees. "I wouldn't want to live in RippleClan if a power struggle like that happened."

"I won't reject the possibility that an outsider killed Potterypool," Puddlewhisper admitted, "but Lightningrunner? No, I'm sorry. It had to be a RippleClan cat. There's no other way they could have escaped." Somewhere behind Puddlewhisper, a heavy weight crunched into the snow. A pawstep. Puddlewhisper's ears swiveled. There it was again. This time Vervaincough and Venturedapple heard it. They both stood tall, ears turned the same way as Puddlewhisper.

Puddlewhisper put her tail to her mouth, silencing the patrol. Crunch. Another pawstep. The three codekeepers dropped. Puddlewhisper in the lead, they followed the sound further into the trees. Crunch.

There! A figure to match the sound. For a moment, Puddlewhisper thought it was Rapidleaf, what with the dark brown fur and blue eyes. But no, this was not Rapidleaf; this molly was younger, nimbler, with rosettes sprinkling her pelt. The stranger reeked of milk and afterbirth; a queen? A recently kitted queen, as well. Despite her thin body, her belly swelled with milk and had yet to fully shrink from pregnancy. She stalked a squirrel digging at the snow, searching for its autumn nuts.

"Halt!" Puddlewhisper called, standing up. The queen jumped, back arching violently. She hissed, showing off her yellow teeth. The squirrel scrambled up a spruce. The queen darted past her lost catch, slamming into the snow with each frantic step.

"Stop!" Vervaincough yowled. She tumbled past a dead bush and sprinted after the queen.

"Vervaincough, pull back!" Puddlewhisper ordered.

"She's getting away!" Vervaincough snapped, skitting through the snow. Her wild gaze bounced between Puddlewhisper and the disappearing queen.

"She's got the strongest scent trail I've ever smelled," Puddlewhisper huffed, nose curling at the intensity of it. "Don't waste your energy running. With her scent and her pawprints, we won't lose her." Puddlewhisper once again led Vervaincough and Venturedapple on, but this time she kept at a light jog, letting her nose do the work. Venturedapple, obediant as ever, walked alongside the gray molly.

"What are you thinking?" Venturedapple asked, trying to look through Puddlewhisper's eyes.

"I think if she's as new a queen as she smells," Puddlewhisper explained, "she's made her nest not far from here. If that's the case, she might have seen something that could help us." Were it better days, Puddlewhisper would have suggested inviting the stranger to RippleClan, provide her a safe place to nurse her kits. But the thought lingered only for a moment before memories of dead, red fur replaced it and Puddlewhisper's heart hardened.

The queen's panicked trail headed towards the Great Northern River, as Puddlewhisper suspected. The stranger's pawprints reappeared on the other side of the stepping stones. Ice glistened across the surface of the stones where they peeked above the freezing current. Puddlewhisper stopped and licked warmth into her paws. Vervaincough pushed ahead, hopping onto the first slippery stone. She jumped from stone to stone, allowing the momentum of her landing to propel her to the next. She landed on the opposite bank with nary a stumble.

Puddlewhisper crossed next. She took her time in her crossing, merely stepping from stone to stone. Her claws poked at the ice. Even though she warmed her paws, it was hard to feel the pads when chilling mist sprayed up from below.

Her back paw slipped at the edge of a stone. Her hind legs fell into the river. The water was shallow and couldn't pull her away, but a paralyzing cold whipped up her spine. Puddlewhisper's legs shook as she tried to stand.

Suddenly, gentle fangs grabbed Puddlewhisper's scruff. Venturedapple stood behind her, his long fur dragging in the current. He shoved Puddlewhisper onto the stepping stone and nudged her back to her paws. Puddlewhisper shivered violently, but nodded deeply. Venturedapple merely dipped his head and crossed past Puddlewhisper, unphased by the cold water and ignoring the stepping stones.

Snow stuck to Puddlewhisper's wet flank when she and Venturedapple made it over to Vervaincough. Puddlewhisper shook out her pelt, spraying Vervaincough. Luckily the queen's trail was still clear and stinking. Puddlewhisper and Vervaincough hurried alongside the queen's pawprints, too focused on their mission to worry about Puddlewhisper's health.

They slowed and crouched as the queen and her nest came into view. Dead grass and orange needles curled around the queen and her three newborn kits. The queen gently groomed a brown kit whose pelt made it clear they would look just like their mother in time. Two other kits mewed and whined for milk; a silver spotted kit and a pale ginger kitten with a nose so pink and pale that it blended into the rest of their fur. They looked healthy from what Puddlewhisper could tell. She, Vervaincough, and Venturedapple lurked under the low-hanging branches of yet another black spruce. The queen purred and panted, glancing behind her.

"Let's try not to scare her again," Puddlewhisper advised her companions. "We can't chase her all day."

"I recognize her," Venturedapple whispered. "Her name is Nimble. She used to live in the human settlement. She left with Achilles. He was her mate." Achilles… he had long brown fur. Could he be the cat Potterypool encountered in the moments before her death?

"Isn't Achilles really old for her?" Vervaincough groaned, sneering at the thought.

"Not every cat has the same concern about age as the Clans seem to," Venturedapple muttered, shaking his head. Yet as he did so, he knocked into a snow-burdened branch. A clump of snow fell from the tree with a loud thud.

The queen, Nimble, ripped herself from her litter's affections. She stood between her kits and the codekeepers like a crumbling wall, unable to stop shaking. Despite the light bouncing off the snow, Nimble's pupils were wide, utterly terrified. Puddlewhisper groaned in her mind.

"We aren't here to hurt you," Puddlewhisper promised, crawling out from under the tree. "We just want to ask you some questions."

"No," Nimble hissed. "No, you're lying. You're here to kill me."

"We don't want that," Vervaincough said as she and Venturedapple joined Puddlewhisper. "Did you see a red molly out here last moon?" That was the wrong thing to say, as Nimble unseathed her claws.

"She did it!" Nimble yowled. "I saw the two of them. They killed my mate, they didn't care! They sent you here to silence me!" Nimble's fear scent overwhelmed her milk-scent. Her kits whined, unfamiliar with the nose-curling stench.

"Tell us what happened," Venturedapple snapped, the tip of his fangs peeking out into the harsh light. Nimble spun and shoved her face into the nest. She emerged with her brown and silver kits dangling in her mouth. The pale ginger kit cried, tiny paws flailing for their missing littermates. Yet Nimble, ears low and tail tucked, simply ran. She stumbled over an exposed root, the exhaustion of kitting slowing her down. As she dove over the root, the silver kit slipped from her jaws. The kitten's tiny head smacked into the buldging root. They landed in the crunchy snow and wailed louder than Puddlewhisper thought a newborn ever could.

"Hold on!" Puddlewhisper cried, but Nimble wouldn't stop. She weaved through the trees, whimpering until her abandoned kit's screams drowned her out. Puddlewhisper's memories flung her back, back to that night when she woke up to screeching and screaming echoing from the nursery, unsure if her nieces, her nephews, her sisters and mother, if any of them were alright. That night, even as Downstar explained the horrors of the Dark Forest that caused such a disaster, all Puddlewhisper could think was, I'll never let a kit scream like that, ever again. They'll never hurt like that as long as I draw breath.

Puddlewhisper flew over the exposed root and cradled her paws around the silver newborn. There was no blood, thank StarClan, but the kit, a tom, still wailed and screamed, his nose-sized paws digging at the sky. Puddlewhisper pulled the kitten close to her chest, forcing herself to purr. She groomed the tom's tiny head. The tom began to soothe himself, rooting into Puddlewhisper's fur with painful whimpers. As he quieted, the pitiful mews of his other abandoned sibling became the loudest thing in the forest.

"One of you check on that kit already!" Puddlewhisper snapped at Vervaincough and Venturedapple, who stared dumbfounded at the silver kitten. Venturedapple, at least, pulled himself out of the stupor and obeyed Puddlewhisper's order. He crawled into the nest and nosed the pale ginger kit.

"It's a molly," Venturedapple explained. "She seems healthy. Just upset."

"She left them," Vervaincough muttered, staring at Nimble's trail. "She left her kits behind. They, they could die without her!"

"That's why we're taking them back to camp, right now," Puddlewhisper hissed, lifting the silver kit back over the exposed root.

"What about Nimble?" Venturedapple asked.

"She'll never tell us what we need to know if she thinks we're out to kill her," Puddlewhisper growled. "We'll find her eventually. The clerics need to see this kit. We're going home, right now. Grab his sister and follow me."

For the first time in an entire moon, Puddlewhisper didn't think about her sister's murder. She could only think of the two newborns beside her, whining for their mother.

[Image ID: Puddlewhisper stands with a silver speckled kit and a pale ginger tabby kit. Puddlewhisper says "What kind of mother is she if she only saved one kit? Someone should put these two first." Under the silver kit, it says NEW PLAYER: ICEKIT, 0, MALE, UNRULY. Under the pale ginger kit, it says NEW PLAYER: PEARKIT, 0, FEMALE, QUIET.]

With no nursing queens to feed the two newcomers, Carnationspeckle quickly set to work brewing kitten soup while Currentsmoke built a nest in the nursery. Vervaincough and Venturedapple met with Waspdawn, Oilstripe, and Downstar in the leader's den while Puddlewhisper stayed with the silver and pale ginger kits, warming them by the bonfire. Troutpool carefully examined the silver tom's head while Puddlewhisper made sure his sister didn't crawl into the fire.

"I don't see any signs of injury," Troutpool muttered, "and he seems to be doing well. I can monitor him, but I don't think he's hurt. Just a little knock on the head, I believe." Troutpool licked the tom's head, chuckling. Shrewflame and Whitepaw hovered over Puddlewhisper, trying to get a good view of the newborns.

"They're adorable," Whitepaw gasped, eyes sparkling. "Do they need anything?"

"Some space," Puddlewhisper huffed, batting at the two brothers. "Don't you have chores to attend to?"

"Well forgive our curiosity," Shrewflame grumbled, guiding Whitepaw back. The rest of the Clan were able to contain themselves and give Puddlewhisper room to breathe. If they weren't discussing the day's events, they were trying to listen to Downstar's meeting (only for Cobaltchaser, guarding the den, to remind them it was private).

"Once Currentsmoke's done in the nursery, we can move them in," Troutpool sighed. She sat beside Puddlewhisper and warmed her whiskers. Puddlewhisper pulled the kits close to her. They sensed her warmth and turned their noses into her pelt.

"You seem like a natural," Troutpool hummed. Puddlewhisper's ears dipped. She stared at the fire, forcing her pelt to stay smooth. Troutpool tucked in her tail and quickly added, "I'm sorry, I didn't think that through. They just seem to like you, that's what I mean." Puddlewhisper stared at the kits. The silver tom looked like he could be Puddlewhisper's son. The molly looked more like Waspdawn's kit, a thought that brought out a purr. It did seem natural, didn't it? But Puddlewhisper's tail flicked against the ground, a clear sign of her thoughts.

"Can I admit something to you?" Puddlewhisper asked softly.

"A cleric never reveals what her Clanmate says in confidence," Troutpool promised, sitting taller. Puddlewhisper curled her tail over the kits.

"I hated Elmsprout for having kits," Puddlewhisper muttered. She waited for backlash, for a horrified gasp, but Troutpool stayed quiet. "Gingerpaw and Frostpaw are going to be wonderful cats, and Lavendertwist adores being a father. But when I saw Elmsprout nursing her litter, I hated her for it. I wanted to be nursing kits in the nursery. All the mothers in this Clan seem so happy to be in the nursery, and I would give up anything to be one of them. But if I had children by blood, I could only stand to the side while another molly gave birth to them. I wouldn't really be their mother."

"Yes you would," Troutpool insisted, putting her tail on Puddlewhisper's back. "They would call you their mother."

"Yes," Puddlewhisper groaned, "but didn't Oilstripe feel awkward with you, knowing you and her shared no blood? It's a similar feeling." Troutpool's ears tilted back slightly. "I can't be the mother I want to be."

"I'm sorry I can't change that," Troutpool sighed. "If it helps, though, I think your concern would make you a great mother, in whatever way that happens." Troutpool gently nudged the silver kit, but the newborn was too absorbed in the warmth of Puddlewhisper's belly fur. "Are you going to try Nimble and return her kits?"

"She put her fear over her kits," Puddlewhisper snapped. "She left these two to die. What kind of mother is she if she only saved one kit? Someone should put these two first."

"What if Downstar orders you to give them back?" Troutpool asked softly.

"She won't," Puddlewhisper said. The tension in her voice disturbed the nestled kits. She quickly licked each of their little bodies and settled their hearts.

"Then I can't think of anyone better to raise them," Troutpool purred. "I think StarClan approves. Your… Ripplefern's spirit is watching. She looks happy." Puddlewhisper's pelt tingled. She stared at an empty spot in camp. She saw no ghostly shapes, but some deep instinct told her that her sister was right there, keeping watch, just as Troutpool described.

"We don't know exactly when they were born," Puddlewhisper hummed, studying the kits… her kits. "I don't think it would be wrong to give them names now."

"Can I help?" Troutpool asked, ears perking up.

"You can help with the molly," Puddlewhisper said, "but I have the perfect name for the tom. Icekit." Just like the ice she encountered on her way to meet him.

"Cute!" Troutpool said. "The molly's so round and plump, she deserves a round name. Maybe a fruit, or a seed, maybe even a mushroom! There are a lot that match her color. Hen-of-the-woods, porcini mushrooms, maple flowers, pears, maybe a squash, like the sort WheatClan steals—"

"Wait," Puddlewhisper said, raising her tail for the cleric to pause. "What's a pear?"

"Oh, they grow them in the human settlement!" Troutpool explained. "Lemmy told me about them. They grow on trees and they're shaped like rattles. The humans love to eat them." Hmm, pears…

"I like Pearkit," Puddlewhisper decided. She stuck her face between her son and daughter and nuzzled them both.

Yes. In the midst of chaos, this felt more natural than anything.

(Puddlewhisper: 56, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Venturedapple: 78, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

(Vervaincough: 25, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

(Nimble: 45, female, loner, righteous, good swimmer)

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

(Icekit: 0, male, kit, unruly)

(Pearkit: 0, female, kit, quiet)

(Troutpool: 51, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Whitepaw: 7, male, historian apprentice, nervous, active imagination)

(Shrewflame: 14, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 75

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

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

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

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

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

Honeybuzz helps the three star-blessed apprentices.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you call?” the spirit groaned.

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

“Explain.”

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

“You are searching for a cure.”

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

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

“Why not?” Wolfpaw whimpered.

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

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

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

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

“Elaborate.” 

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

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

“Offer the dead—”

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

“No?” the spirit spat.

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

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

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

“But they will be cured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t know,” she said softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you want to learn?” 

“Thunderpaw makes it fun!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Thunderpaw: 7, female, caretaker apprentice,

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 97

Carnationspeckle and Wildclaw fish together and work through their grief over Downstar.

[Image ID: Carnationspeckle and Wildclaw sit along the water, with - CONDITION: GRIEVING underneath them both. Carnationspeckle says, "It's a new era for us."]

(Carnationspeckle: 99, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Wildclaw: 89, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

Yarrowclaw heals from her mangled leg with a small scar. As she returns to patrols, however, Estherfern and Gingerpaw ask to speak to her about a vision.

[Image ID: Gingerpaw brings Yarrowclaw to Estherfern, saying, "I brought her, just like you asked." Yarrowclaw now has a scar along her back ankle, with - CONDITION: MANGLED LEG written under her. Under Estherfern, it says + GUIDANCE FROM STARCLAN: THE SHIP OF YARROW (VISION)]

---

If Yarrowclaw wanted to avoid hallucinating her long dead brother and convincing herself she was StarClan's invulnerable warrior, she needed a routine.

Sandhollow helped her craft the routine shortly after the horse path incident. A patrol at sunhigh and sunset every day, without fail. A hearty serving at each meal. A strict sleep schedule. Talks with Sandhollow or another mediator every half moon, just to check in. All of those little details added up to maintain balance over Yarrowclaw's mind. Yet for moons, Yarrowclaw had been unable to follow that routine, because LynxClan decided to be mouse-brains and kill Downstar over a bunch of crabs.

Getting Honeybuzz's approval to go back on patrol was one of the best things to happen in Yarrowclaw's life. Sure, the wound across her back ankle scarred, a permanent reminder of how a small cut on the right spot could kill a warrior. But now Yarrowclaw could act on the burning in her blood and help her Clan. She could also get away from her brother's flirting in the medicine den. Good for Anchovystrike, finally winning Weevilsight over, but bleh, did they have to make comments like that in front of Yarrowclaw?

As a blistering sunhigh crawled over RippleClan, Yarrowclaw led a hunting patrol through the bramble-lined entrance. A basket, heavy with mice and rats, hung on Yarrowclaw's neck. The warm scent of dough mixed with the bloody fresh-kill under Yarrowclaw's muzzle and made her mouth water. She quickly placed the basket beside the fresh-kill pile and let Rapidleaf, Whiteflower, and Pearpaw (the other members of the patrol) sort their catches. Yarrowclaw jogged up to the oven, where Asterblaze and Shrewflame carefully watched as Icepaw shuffled a large flat rock out from above the fire. Flat chunks of golden bread sat on the rock, steam rising from their hard surfaces.

"When did we get flour?" Yarrowclaw asked, sniffing the hot bread as Icepaw let go of the large stick that allowed cats to slide the stone slab in and out of the oven, just for special meals like this.

"We traded some of our clams and seaweed with WheatClan," Asterblaze explained. "We're going to pour mincemeat over the bread. Stormjump and the elders get the first pieces, but then it goes to whoever asks first." Yarrowclaw eyed the glistening bread. Biting into it once the juice from the mincemeat soaked through? It would be glorious.

"This needs to cool," Shrewflame said, gently nosing a piece of bread, "but when it's done, you can take some."

"We're the ones making the bread, we should get a piece," Icepaw huffed. His tail brushed against the hot stone. He hissed and jumped back.

"We'll see, Icepaw," Shrewflame chuckled as Icepaw rapidly licked his burnt tail.

"Yarrowclaw!" Gingerpaw trotted out of the medicine den, maple seed necklace swinging across his chest. He squinted in the harsh, cloudless light.

"Gingerpaw, do you want some bread?" Icepaw asked. "Wait, it is still Gingerpaw, isn't it?" Oh, right! The half-moon meeting had been the night before.

"It is," Gingerpaw grumbled, whiskers drooping. "Estherfern says I'm 'too immature' to graduate."

"Oh, that's not true!" Shrewflame huffed. "You're just chatty! If everyone was held back for being chatty, I'd still be an apprentice." Icepaw and Asterblaze both laughed at that.

"I need Yarrowclaw," Gingerpaw sighed. "Can you come with me?" Back to the medicine den? Yarrowclaw just got out of there! Still, Gingerpaw wouldn't call for Yarrowclaw without reason. But the food…

Yarrowclaw forced herself away from the oven and joined Gingerpaw. Her pelt itched in the heat as the medicine den drew closer. Weevilsight, Honeybuzz, and Troutpool were by the cleric's oven, preparing their concoctions. Yarrowclaw's curiousity peeked over her hesitancy, but only for a moment.

Estherfern waited inside the medicine den, laid out in her nest. Her sunlit eyes studied Yarrowclaw with the same detached, all-knowing gaze Yarrowclaw grew up with. Yarrowclaw's nest was still there, still stinking of healing wounds.

"I brought her, just like you asked," Gingerpaw sighed. He stalked past Estherfern and crawled into his nest.

"You're going to participate, Gingerpaw," Estherfern huffed, spinning back and nipping Gingerpaw's foot. "This is a cleric's most important job. You can nap later." Gingerpaw grumbled unintelligibly but shuffled closer.

"What do you need from me, Estherfern?" Yarrowclaw asked, taking an awkward seat in front of the old cleric.

"I need to talk to you about something I saw at StarClan's Shrine," Estherfern explained carefully. "I believe it strongly relates to you." Now that was a dangerous thing to tell a cat like Yarrowclaw. She buried her tension deep. "When I dreamed at the Shrine last night, I received a visit from your mother. She provided me with a vision." Harvest… Yarrowclaw struggled to remember her face at times. Did her spirit visit the camp? What did she think of Yarrowclaw and her brothers?

"She showed us both the vision, technically," Gingerpaw chuckled. Estherfern smacked his muzzle with her tail.

"In this vision," Estherfern said, "I stood on a water-washed rock in the middle of the ocean. A violent storm raged around me. The waves nearly pushed me into the water. Yet as the storm grew more violent, something began to grow under my paws. A mass of vines and leaves stretched underneath me. It lifted me from the rock and above the chaos of the waves. It was a ship, just like this ship we now live in, back when the humans sent it to sea. But the ship was not made of wood. Growing between the plant matter were masses of white flowers. Yarrow flowers. The ship was built from the stems and leaves of impossibly strong yarrow. It carried me through the storm until land appeared on the horizon. Now I've grown familiar with how StarClan shares information through metaphor and symbolism. This ship of yarrow is a clear message. You were that ship, Yarrowclaw."

"No," Yarrowclaw immediately huffed. "No, no, I can't be involved in a prophecy." She hurried to her paws. Her muscles ached from restraining the storm inside.

"It's not something you have a choice about, Yarrowclaw," Estherfern sighed.

"StarClan can't pick me," Yarrowclaw snapped. "If they pick me, it will prove I'm right, and I'll get myself killed." Gingerpaw cocked his head at Yarrowclaw's odd phrasing, but Yarrowclaw barely noticed.

"Something's coming to RippleClan," Estherfern said, getting up. "You will be a sanctuary, a savior. You are destined to weather the storm, whatever it be."

"And you had to tell me that?" Yarrowclaw groaned. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"It's not really what you're going to do," Gingerpaw explained awkwardly. "It's more what we're going to do about you. We wanted to let you know that we're going to talk to Oilstar about your duties. If you're a ship in this story, then whoever is on you, or I guess near you, should be safe from whatever's coming. So—"

"I'm not staying in camp," Yarrowclaw hissed, no longer afraid to hide her widening eyes and curling lips. "I can't stay in camp."

"You aren't trapped here," Estherfern grunted with a dismissive twitch of her whiskers. "But keeping you close to as many cats as possible could save lives."

"You don't even know what's going to happen!" Yarrowclaw yowled. "I—no, I can't have this conversation." She turned out of the den.

"Where are you going?" Estherfern snapped as Gingerpaw slunk back to his nest. "We need to talk to Oilstar."

"It's none of your concern!" Yarrowclaw growled, stepping back into the sun. Curious glances passed her way as she marched to the warrior's den. Hopefully Sandhollow would be inside. She needed someone sane to talk to.

You're special. You're chosen. Of course you're chosen. You can save them. You can save them all. You'll need to train, you have to be able to fight off what's coming, but what if it's not a fox or bear or wolf, what if its nature? You should go to StarClan's Shrine, you need to know more, go right now go go go go go—

No! Yarrowclaw growled at herself as she entered the warrior's den. Half the Clan was sleeping through the hot midday, relaxed in their nests and on top of one another. Yarrowclaw jumped into her nest, even though she knew she wouldn't sleep.

She couldn't be special. For her own sake, she could not be special. She wouldn't allow it.

(Yarrowclaw: 32, female, warrior, cold, fire master)

(Asterblaze: 44, male, caretaker, thoughtful, inventor and innovator)

(Shrewflame: 21, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Icepaw: 7, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Gingerpaw: 13, male, cleric apprentice, charismatic, curious about humans, moss-ball hunter)

(Estherfern: 131, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

Sandhollow wonders if he is destined for something greater as his sister gives birth to three kits.

[Image ID: Sandhollow and Yellowburst approach Stormjump and her three newborns from the distance, with Yellowburst calling, "Hurry, we have to meet them!" Under Stormjump, it says - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. The first kit looks just like Honeybuzz, and under him, it reads NEW PLAYER: BEEKIT, 0, MALE, NOISY. The next kit is white with ginger patches. Under him, it says NEW PLAYER: PATCHKIT, 0, MALE, CHARMING. The last kit is golden with a blanket of tinted white across his forehead and back. Under him, it reads NEW PLAYER: MORNINGKIT, 0, MALE, BOSSY.]

(Stormjump: 28, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Beekit: 0, male, kit, noisy)

(Patchkit: 0, male, kit, charming)

(Morningkit: 0, male, kit, bossy)

(Yellowburst: 28, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)

(Sandhollow: 28, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

Midnightpaw is apprenticed to Anchovystrike while Valleypaw gets to learn under Asterblaze to harness his excitement to fight. Before they head out, though, Wildclaw and Rattlepelt apologize for any neglect they may have felt in the nursery as they both fought their grief.

[Image ID: Rattlepelt and Wildclaw talk to Midnightpaw and Valleypaw, now apprentices. Under Midnightpaw, it says LEVEL UP! MIDNIGHTKIT → MIDNIGHTPAW, POLITE → OBLIVIOUS. Under Valleypaw, it says LEVEL UP! VALLEYKIT → VALLEYPAW, QUIET → STRICT. Rattlepelt says, "We just… don't want you to think we weren't utterly in love with you." Under her, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]

(Midnightpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, oblivious, always wandering)

(Valleypaw: 6, male, caretaker apprentice, strict, avid play-fighter)

(Rattlepelt: 80, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Wildclaw: 89, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

Icepaw and Pearpaw meet their long-lost kin at the Gathering.

[Image ID: Icepaw and Pearpaw meet Nimblestep and Quickpaw, the latter of whom is now an apprentice. Pearpaw says, "So… how do we do this?"]

---

For a few days, Icepaw wasn't sure he would make it to his first Gathering. He'd been stuck in the medicine den, his head screaming to shut out the light and noise. Shrewflame did his best to continue his lessons, giving him the same overview of herbs that mediator and caretaker apprentices were expected to learn, but he couldn't join Shrewflame on patrol. He couldn't spar with Pearpaw and Dovepaw. All he could do was think about what his mother and sister would look like as the full moon drew closer and closer.

Yet, by the grace of StarClan or whatever Celestial watched over headaches, Icepaw still made it. He still got to walk alongside his fellow apprentices near the back of the crowd as they made their way to the Leader's Stone. The full moon glistened in the hot, cloudless night. Oilstar and Wildclaw proudly led the way, each eagerly discussing how to share their goods with the other four Clans. Baskets heavy with offerings from the sea dangled off warriors' necks. Pearpaw in particular had a basket of seashells, perfect for decoration. The seashells jingled together as Pearpaw walked alongside Icepaw and the pair listened to Dovepaw's rambling.

"Wolverineheart promised I could meet her friend Deerswipe tonight!" Dovepaw chirped, bouncing around the apprentices. "She's half-blind too. They spar together all the time! And now that SlugClan's not mad at us, Wolverineheart said she and Deerswipe can show me some tricks!"

"Was she part of the raid?" Icepaw muttered, unable to stop his hackles from rising.

"What raid?" Midnightpaw asked from behind the older apprentices. Valleypaw, who walked alongside his brother, kicked at Midnightpaw's feet.

"You know what raid!" Valleypaw huffed.

"No, because there's been two," Midnightpaw chirped innocently, stumbling back into a steady pace. "There was SlugClan breaching camp, and then there was LynxClan stealing our crabs."

"We're talking about a SlugClan warrior," Valleypaw groaned, rolling his eyes. "Why would we talk about LynxClan?"

"Midnightpaw's fine, Valley," Pearpaw huffed, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter if Deerswipe was part of that attack or not. We listen to our leaders, and we talk through what happened at the Gathering. That's what Clan life is like."

Icepaw relaxed at his sister's wise words, but something twisted in his chest. Yes, that was what Clan life was like. Yet none of them were technically ever meant to live that life. Dovepaw chose it, sure, but the other apprentices were less than a moon old when their mothers found them. They only had theories as to what happened with Midnightpaw and Valleypaw's birth mother. And for Icepaw and Pearpaw… well, their fate was decided for them before they were even born, by two mollies Icepaw never met. He could only hear secondary tales of Lemmy's motivations, and wonder why Potterypool agreed to murder his father. At least she felt bad about it afterward. Yet that did not stop the twisting in Icepaw's chest.

He recognized the great cliffside leading up to the Leader's Stone from Puddlewhisper's stories. He could see glimpses of the great bonfire through the distant shrubs. The hushed purrs of countless cats filled his ears. Oilstar and Wildclaw were already up and over by the time Icepaw and the other apprentices got close. Just before Icepaw could follow the rest of his Clan up, however, Scaleripple stepped in front of him.

"A few rules before you go up," Scaleripple said, his blue-feathered tail high. "Stay with us while the leaders give their announcements. We can socialize when they're done. Stay in the clearing. Be smart about what you share."

"Wolverineheart told me all that," Dovepaw huffed, cocking his head. "Why are you? You aren't our mentor."

"I'm a teacher now," Scaleripple said with a hint of pride in his purr. "I help apprentices. That's my job."

"Don't be rude, Dovepaw," Valleypaw huffed, gently smacking Dovepaw's side.

"I wasn't being rude, I was asking a question," Dovepaw said, earnest in his naivity.

"Let's go," Pearpaw said, weaving around Scaleripple and up the cliffside path. Icepaw was right on his sister's tail, heart racing as the voices above grew louder and louder.

It wasn't the size of the crowd that stunned Icepaw. He knew to expect more cats than he could count, with caretakers uncovering hidden cookware and constructing makeshift ovens and stoves. He knew each of the four leaders already on the Leader's Stone, from top to bottom: Eelstar, Gentlestar, Ospreystar, and Lettucestar. No, as Icepaw stared out across the crowd, he saw one cat in particular, sitting at the front of their Clan. It was a brown rosette covered tabby whose blue eyes caught in the firelight. She was thin, yet nimble in frame, sitting tall and tense, staring at the Leader's Stone. Icepaw couldn't explain how he knew with such certainty, but he knew. That was Nimblestep. That was his mother.

"Icepaw, let's sit near the front!" Midnightpaw called, charging past Icepaw. Icepaw stumbled forward, and the rest of his Clan pulled him through the crowd. By the times he got his bearings, he was close to the front of RippleClan, sitting beside Midnightpaw, Dovepaw, and Pearpaw, sans basket. Valleypaw lurked further into the crowd by Asterblaze. Icepaw searched for Nimblestep once more. Nimblestep's eyes sweeped RippleClan. She was looking for her kits.

"I want to give my Clan plenty of time to celebrate tonight," Oilstar called as she found her place on the bottom of the Leader's Stone. "Let's go through this moon's news quickly."

Icepaw struggled to focus as the other leaders gave their reports. Icepaw knew he should pay attention, Shrewflame would probably ask him questions later. But how could he pay attention when Nimblestep was so close by? Icepaw could barely sit still. Nimblestep was right there. He knew she would be, but to see her so soon, so suddenly…

The five Clans melted together faster than Icepaw expected. He hadn't even realized the leaders had finished delivering their news. Had the Clans cheered his name somewhere in all that noise? He couldn't tell.

"Icepaw." Oh thank StarClan, Paleseed was there. The gray speckled mediator brushed against her nephew, with Pearpaw lingering beside her. "Your birth mother is here. Do you want to meet her?"

"I already see her," Icepaw said as the SlugClan party merged with the rest of the Clans. Nimblestep swerved between cats, deftly navigating the chaotic reunions toward her own chaotic reunion. Her tail inched upward, ever hopeful. In Icepaw's eye, flashes of Puddlewhisper's blood still stained Nimblestep's mouth.

"I can stay with you while you meet her," Paleseed promised softly.

"No thank you," Pearpaw gulped. "I—We want to meet her alone." No! There was no "we" in that decision! Icepaw shook his head rapidly, but Paleseed merely touched noses with Pearpaw and dissolved into the crowd. She was gone before Icepaw could choke out a word.

"Pearpaw!" Icepaw whined.

"We shouldn't have someone else minding us for this," Pearpaw whispered as Nimblestep drew closer. "Nimblestep's our mother." Some mother, Icepaw thought.

"Is it you?" Nimblestep croaked as the crowd began to part and find places to share tongues. "Icepaw? Pearpaw?" Her voice quivered.

"Hi, Nimblestep," Pearpaw gulped. Icepaw didn't know whether to puff himself up and stand in front of his sister or allow his sister to take the lead. He stayed right next to Pearpaw, taking in Nimblestep's features. Pearpaw looked nothing like Nimblestep; the former was round and a bit short, while Nimblestep was tall and thin. Did Icepaw have his mother's angular face? Or did his features align more with his long-lost father?

"You're really here," Nimblestep purred. Her whiskers suddenly danced over Icepaw's pelt as she sniffed her lost son. Flashes of an event Icepaw could never have remembered overwhelmed his senses; teeth slipping off of his pelt, wood smacking into his skull, forever damaging the brain within. Icepaw's head throbbed in response.

"Hold on," Icepaw stammered, dancing away from Nimblestep. "Shouldn't Quickpaw be here?" Pearpaw's blue eyes (the only thing she shared with her birth mother) glistened at the thought of her unknown sister. Nimblestep's eyes glowed too.

"She's just with her mentor," Nimblestep eagerly explained. "She's going to be a mediator. This way, hurry." Nimblestep jogged through the crowd, but kept pausing to make sure Icepaw and Pearpaw were behind her. Both apprentices followed their birth mother, eyeing each other as they went.

Quickpaw sat with an older black tom among a gaggle of mediators from across the five Clans. Sandhollow and Slushtrail sat in their number, close to the young apprentice. Quickpaw looked exactly like Nimblestep. They shared the same brown fur and black markings. She had the spots to fill Nimblestep's rosettes. She was just as thin and clearly taller than Icepaw and Pearpaw. Yet her eyes were a rich dark brown, moving away from the family's pattern of blue.

When Quickpaw spotted her family through the crowd, she said something quickly to her mentor, who caught Nimblestep's eye. When Quickpaw's mentor nodded, the young brown molly bounded through her fellow mediators and straight to Nimblestep's side. Nimblestep nuzzled her daughter, purring deep. Quickpaw returned the gesture, stretching her head high to rub against her mother. Icepaw felt ill.

"You made it," Quickpaw gasped, oggling Icepaw and Pearpaw. She took in every detail of her littermates' pelts, but Icepaw could only look at Nimblestep. Her eyes shouldn't have been so relaxed, her pupils slit and calm. That was the look Puddlewhisper had when Icepaw became an apprentice. That was a mother's look.

Nimblestep did not deserve a mother's look.

"So…" Pearpaw gulped, "how do we do this?"

"I want to talk to Quickpaw," Icepaw blurted, louder than he intended. "Just Quickpaw. Uh, and Pearpaw too, I mean. Not Nimblestep. Later. Just… over here!" Icepaw spotted an empty spot on the far side of the clearing, beyond the Leader's Stone. Icepaw's claws dug up grass as he ran through the crowd. Whatever cries of shock his family gave, the sound of the Gathering covered it up.

Icepaw skidded to a stop beyond the chaos of the five Clans. When he glanced back, his racing heart eased. Pearpaw and Quickpaw were on their way. Nimblestep was lost within the crowd.

"What are you doing?" Pearpaw gasped as she and her lost sister neared their brother. "We can't just run away from Nimblestep like that! She's been dying to see us!" Yes, dying—like what happened to Downstar when SlugClan sent a whole patrol to steal Icepaw and Pearpaw from the only life they knew. Icepaw squeezed his eyes tight.

"Later, Pearpaw," Icepaw said through gritted teeth. "I can't do it now. I just can't." Icepaw finally looked up and locked eyes with Quickpaw. Did Nimblestep save her because they both looked the same? Would Icepaw be in her place if Quickpaw had been the one to slip out of Nimblestep's jaws that fateful day? Had Pearpaw even been considered for salvation?

"What would she have called us," Icepaw finally huffed, "if she got to keep us? She named you Quick. Who would we have been?"

"Icepaw, Nimblestep probably didn't—" Pearpaw began.

"You would have been Sleek," Quickpaw said. She said it with such blunt sincerity that Icepaw snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. "Pearpaw, you would have been Silent. Quick, Sleek, and Silent." Hmm. Sleek. Icepaw had to admit, he didn't hate the name.

"I'm sorry, Icepaw's being rude," Pearpaw stammered, looping around Quickpaw. "I'm so happy I get to meet you. I've spent so long wondering what you would be like!"

"Me too," Quickpaw purred. She hesistated before Pearpaw, glancing at Icepaw all the while. Suddenly, Quickpaw dove into Pearpaw and rubbed against her shoulder. Pearpaw squealed at the sudden touch but did not recoil. A moment later, Pearpaw rubbed into her sister's neck with a noisy purr.

"Did Nimblestep tell you she attacked our mom?" Icepaw asked before his littermates could start sharing tongues and forget they were ever apart. "Puddlewhisper, I mean. She raised us. Nimblestep almost bit her tail off."

"My mentor, Crowtail, did," Quickpaw admitted, still purring as she moved back from Pearpaw. "He was there. Mom said she was sorry. She got overwhelmed."

"She still hurt our mom," Icepaw growled with a thrash of his tail. He pulled himself back, swallowing the bile climbing his throat. "But you… who are you? I mean, what are you like? I mean… I don't know what I mean." Icepaw kicked at the grass.

"I'm just… me," Quickpaw said, cocking her head slightly. "I don't really know how to describe myself. I like moss-ball. I like visiting the river, swimming is really fun. Uh… oh, don't tell Mom, but most of the time, when I need a break from her, I hide in this little nook in the roots of the Leader's Tree and sing to myself. I like singing."

"You hide from her?" Pearpaw repeated, taking a seat. "Why would you ever hide from your mom? Is she mean?"

"No!" Quickpaw stammered. "The opposite. She won't leave me alone sometimes. She always wants to know what I'm doing and if she can help. I couldn't wait to be an apprentice." Quickpaw glanced over her shoulder, as though Nimblestep would ignore Icepaw's wishes and storm into the conversation.

"Did she tell you how she left us?" Icepaw asked.

"In a way," Quickpaw groaned. "She told me she only managed to save me. Your meditators visited camp a few moons ago, and I bothered Sandhollow until he told me about you two." Quickpaw cocked her tail at Pearpaw and said, "You're always sticking close to Icepaw, and you get upset when something bad happens to a hero in stories."

"I want them to be happy," Pearpaw whined playfully.

"You love to stick your nose into everything," Quickpaw said, now pointing at Icepaw. "You're too smart for your own good, but you have a 'warrior's heart', whatever that means."

"Was Sandhollow complimenting us or insulting us?" Icepaw chuckled.

"You're also rude," Quickpaw pointed out. "Mom's always tried her best with me. You can at least see that she's trying."

"That's what I've been telling him!" Pearpaw huffed, making a face at Icepaw.

"She's not the one I want to get to know," Icepaw grunted. "She chose you, not us. Well, I want to choose you, and I want you to choose us. I want another sister."

"That's why I'm going to be a mediator!" Quickpaw chirped, ears perking. "I can make lots of excuses to see you!" Icepaw's ears perked up too. The twisting force in his chest unwound itself.

"Does SlugClan have any teachers?" Pearpaw asked. "Maybe Icepaw can get Shrewflame to help SlugClan with the new role!"

"We have one," Quickpaw hummed, "but I have a better idea. How do you feel about sneaking out of camp?"

"Quickpaw," Icepaw said with the seriousness of a battle-hardened warrior. "I have wanted to sneak out of camp since I was born."

"That doesn't make any sense," Quickpaw laughed, playfully flinging her paw at Icepaw.

"Wouldn't it be better to make sure the adults approve our visits?" Pearpaw gulped. "I don't want to make my mentor upset."

"The adults are why Mom never saw you before tonight," Quickpaw whispered, leaning in. "We're shouldn't have to wait until graduation before we can visit each other. We should have our own Gatherings!"

"We could meet where SlugClan, WheatClan, and AshClan meet," Icepaw purred, ideas sparking wildly. "We can meet on the new moon! That way we don't have to worry about missing the actual Gathering."

"It'll be fun, Pearpaw!" Quickpaw said, nudging the pale ginger molly. "Don't you want a sister?"

"I really do," Pearpaw groaned, one ear angling back. "Oh… alright, let's do it. The Littermates Gathering." Quickpaw and Icepaw cheered at the top of their lungs. Icepaw laughed at Quickpaw's cries, and Quickpaw laughed at Icepaw's laughter.

That was family, to him—choice. He wanted them, they wanted him, and none of them would let the others go.

(Icepaw: 7, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Dovepaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, oblivious, active imagination)

(Midnightpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, oblivious, always wandering)

(Valleypaw: 6, male, caretaker apprentice, strict, avid play-fighter)

(Pearpaw: 7, female, historian apprentice, righteous, moss-ball hunter, lover of stories)

(Scaleripple: 50, male, teacher, lonesome, unusually strong fighter)

(Oilstar: 101, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Paleseed: 63, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

Tallowheart gets tossed around by the ocean waves while fishing. It’s his good swimming that leaves him with just some broken ribs.

[Image ID: Tallowheart limps away from the ocean, muttering "Oww…" Under him, it reads + CONDITION: BROKEN RIBS.]

(Tallowheart: 33, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 96

Frostpaw gets the name Frostdancer, much to Gingerpaw’s envy.

[Image ID: Frostdancer is now in a long-furred adult sprite. Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! FROSTPAW → FROSTDANCER, STRICT → CONFIDENT, LOVER OF STORIES → GREAT STORYTELLER. Gingerpaw, in the same adult sprite, watches from the back with Estherfern.]

(Frostdancer: 12, female, artisan, confident, great storyteller)

(Gingerpaw: 12, male, cleric apprentice, charismatic, curious about humans, moss-ball hunter)

(Estherfern: 130, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

Asterblaze and Elmsprout reminisce about their old Clans when a WheatClan apprentice stumbles into the territory. They help him find his way home.

[Image ID: Elmsprout and Asterblaze speak with a black spotted apprentice. Asterblaze says, "We'll get you home, Fluffpaw." Under him, it reads LEVEL UP! CONSTANTLY FIDDLING WITH TOOLS → INVENTOR AND INNOVATOR.]

(Asterblaze: 43, male, caretaker, thoughtful, inventor and innovator)

(Elmsprout: 63, female, caretaker, charismatic, trusted advisor)

Icepaw gets apprenticed to Shrewflame and Pearpaw trains under Whiteflower. Puddlewhisper goes to inform Nimblestep of her kits’ apprenticeship and decision.

[Image ID: Puddlewhisper watches from afar as Shrewflame and Whiteflower guide Icepaw and Pearpaw, now in the same apprentice sprites, out of camp. Under Puddlewhisper, it says LEVEL UP! THOUGHTFUL → RIGHTEOUS, + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL. Under Icepaw, it says LEVEL UP! ICEKIT → ICEPAW, UNRULY → FIERCE, + NEW SKILL: NEVER SITS STILL. Under Pearpaw, it says LEVEL UP! PEARKIT → PEARPAW, QUIET → RIGHTEOUS, + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF STORIES.]

---

Lettucestar and Oilstar both agreed at the Gathering that they would each apprentice Nimblestep's kits three days following the Gathering. At that time, a RippleClan patrol would meet SlugClan at the border, either with or without Icekit and Pearkit. Their absence would mark their decision. The kits had each emphatically told Puddlewhisper that they would stay in RippleClan, but as their apprenticeship drew closer and closer, Puddlewhisper couldn't help but wonder; would they change their minds?

As dawn approached, heralding the litter's apprenticeship, Puddlewhisper was the first in the nursery to wake up. All the kits were big enough that they needed their own nests, so Puddlewhisper found her side absent of warm faces. Icekit and Pearkit still had their nests close to Puddlewhisper, however. Icekit laid on his back, twitching in the depths of a dream while Pearkit laid in a peaceful lump, quietly dozing. Midnightkit and Valleykit had crawled into one another's nests over the course of the night, leaving Rattlepelt buried under her fox pelt alone. Stormjump, plump with her pregnancy, was dead to the world while Dovekit blocked Puddlewhisper's path out of the den. He had somehow gotten out of his nest and decided to sleep stretched out across the entrance like leather flooring. Puddlewhisper rolled her eyes. The sooner that odd lump of fur was in the apprentice's den, the better.

Puddlewhisper crept around Icekit and Pearkit. She nimbly stepped over Dovekit and into camp. It was still dark out, meaning that dawn patrols had yet to set out and no one had begun their day. The camp was quiet, save for the hum of the late night birds and the shifting presence of one of the caretakers outside. The waning gibbous moon hovered behind the shipwreck, turning the landmark into a dark shadow painted against Silverpelt.

To Puddlewhisper's surprise, she was not the first in camp to stir early. Paleseed hovered outside the apprentice's den, fiddling with moss. Paleseed spotted Puddlewhisper and paused with moss sticking between her claws.

"I'm just deconstructing Frostdancer's old nest," Paleseed whispered as Puddlewhisper approached. "We keep forgetting it's in here. Icekit and Pearkit can use some of this moss." Puddlewhisper nodded and sat next to her sister. A tickle crawled up her back despite the warm summer night. She stared into the empty apprentice's den and thought back to the days when all of her littermates crowded inside, eagerly sharing tales of their training deep into the night. Ripplefern's memory was a haze in the back of the den. Would she be there as Icekit and Pearkit decided on their futures?

"Puddle?" Paleseed purred, drawing her sister's eye. "Icekit and Pearkit already said they want to stay here. Why do you look so tense? Did they change their minds?"

"I don't think so," Puddlewhisper gulped. "Still… if I knew I had kin in another Clan, I would want to meet them."

"Whatever happens," Paleseed promised, grooming Puddlewhisper's neck, "you've been a good mother." Puddlewhisper licked Paleseed's ear. She bunted Paleseed's shoulder and, for a moment, pretended Nimblestep didn't exist, that she had been born a molly, that Icekit and Pearkit were forever, always, and unconditionally hers.

The pair sat in the well-trodden sand, each grooming the other as light leaked over the horizon. The Clan slowly stirred around them. Whiteflower and Shrewflame ran for the artisan's den as soon as they stirred. They nearly knocked over Downstar's almost-finished sculpture, ready to be painted and stored beside Weedfoot's image in a rocky off-shoot of the elder's den. Yarrowclaw limped out of the medicine den, her deep wound slowly forming into a neat scar. Halibutdusk, Rapidleaf, and Mitespark gathered around the fresh-kill pile, debating how they would handle the sunhigh meal.

When Dovekit charged out of the nursery and hassled Yarrowclaw, Puddlewhisper knew it was time to greet her kits. Paleseed sensed her sister shift beside her and stopped grooming her back.

"Make them look pretty for today," Paleseed hummed as Puddlewhisper headed for the nursery. Puddlewhisper stood a little taller as the den's interior came into view. Sure enough, everyone inside was awake. Midnightkit and Valleykit jogged past Puddlewhisper, leaving Rattlepelt alone to stretch and adjust her fox pelt. Stormjump stayed in her nest, weighed down with no reason to get up and go. Icekit and Pearkit whispered to each other, heads dipped low. Pearkit, however, perked up as Puddlewhisper came in.

"Mom," Pearkit said, jumping around Icekit and stopping at her mother's paws. "Do you know when Oilstar will call for the Clan?"

"I'm sure she won't wait too long," Puddlewhisper promised as Icekit joined his sister. "How do you both feel?"

"My head hurts a bit," Icekit admitted, tail twitching awkwardly, "but I'm ready to have the ceremony."

"And you both still…" Puddlewhisper gulped.

"We're staying, Mom," Pearkit promised. She bunted Puddlewhisper in the chest. "We can get to know our kin at the Gathering." Puddlewhisper purred deeply, all the trapped anxiety in her chest flooding out as she pulled Pearkit close and rapidly groomed her head. Icekit tried to step around the two mollies, but Puddlewhisper stuck out her hind leg and blocked him.

"You need to look nice for the ceremony, too," Puddlewhisper chuckled. Icekit groaned dramatically, but stayed where he was.

It wasn't long before Oilstar yowled from the top of the Shiprock, "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather below the Shiprock for a Clan meeting!" By then dawn had firmly settled itself across RippleClan, the sun forming a gibbous shape against the edge of the ocean. Icekit and Pearkit's fur was groomed to perfection, with not a single curvy hair out of place. Weedfoot had the same standard of perfection for Puddlewhisper's apprentice ceremony, so why should she stray from tradition?

Icekit and Pearkit flanked their mother as they all entered the camp clearing. With the pair at either side, Puddlewhisper preened a little; her kits would never outgrow her. Pearkit was shaping up to be a rather small molly, more round than tall, while Icekit had a fairly average build. Both already looked like little warriors, though. Oilstar stood on the Shiprock, her autumn decor glowing against the sunrise. How strange it was to see her standing in Downstar's spot, overlooking all of RippleClan. And by all, Puddlewhisper meant all of RippleClan; not a single cat had left for patrol yet.

"Stand at the front of the crowd," Puddlewhisper told her kits. She slipped away from Icekit and Pearkit and found an empty spot beside Paleseed, Lavendertwist, and Waspdawn. Icekit and Pearkit stood in front of the Shiprock. RippleClan curved around them like water around a rock. Wildclaw sat at the base of the Shiprock, as was her place as the Clan's new deputy. Another strange sight.

"Apprentice ceremonies are an exciting day in RippleClan," Oilstar began, speaking loud and strong. "This ceremony is especially interesting, because today we don't just ask the young cats before us if they are ready to train. We ask them if they wish to devote themselves to RippleClan." Oilstar stared at Icekit and Pearkit as she spoke her next words. "Icekit, Pearkit, you both joined RippleClan under tense circumstances. We didn't expect your birth mother to return, especially not as a SlugClan warrior. I can't continue this ceremony without apologizing to you both. RippleClan killed your father, Achilles, and drove your mother to flee and leave you behind. We have tried to earn your forgiveness, but we cannot keep you here if your heart calls for you to join your mother and sister in SlugClan."

"We want to stay here, Oilstar," Icekit yowled, nearly interuppting Oilstar. "I don't care how I ended up here. This is my home." A few cats cheered at Icekit's proud declaration, Lavendertwist among them. Waspdawn touched his nose to Puddlewhisper's pelt, pressing congratulations through her skin.

"Pearkit, you share this perspective?" Oilstar asked.

"Yes," Pearkit said. Her voice collapsed under her with another, louder cheer from RippleClan.

"Save the cheers for later!" Oilstar laughed as Icekit and Pearkit squirmed under the attention. "We have a ceremony to conduct! Usually I learn what path a kit's paws call them down before we gather, but there were other matters to settle. Icekit, Pearkit, what do you want to train as?"

"I want to be a teacher!" Icekit declared just as Pearkit tried to talk. "It's such a new role. I want the other Clans to have teachers too!"

"I want to know how the world works," Pearkit quickly added. "Can I train as a historian?"

"I have the perfect mentors for both of you," Oilstar purred. "Icekit, Pearkit, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. Icekit, Pearkit, until you earn your full names, you shall be known as Icepaw and Pearpaw." Icepaw and Pearpaw seemed to glow with the power of their new names. "Icepaw, you will be apprenticed under Shrewflame."

"I get an apprentice!" Shrewflame shoved through the crowd, his whole body vibrating and his paws suspiciously stained with orange paint. Wildclaw hid a chuckle as Shrewflame touched his nose to Icepaw's.

"Pearpaw, you will be apprenticed under Whiteflower," Oilstar declared. Whiteflower left the crowd with far more grace than his older brother. He too had orange paint on his white paws.

"I'll do my best," Whiteflower purred as he touched noses with Pearpaw.

"Icepaw! Pearpaw! Icepaw! Pearpaw!" RippleClan cried. Puddlewhisper cheered from the bottom of her lungs.

"Let's tour the territory before the artisans realized we touched their paint supplies," Shrewflame whispered, nudging Icepaw along.

"We'll see you soon, Mom!" Pearpaw cheered as she and Whiteflower hurried after their brothers. They streaked ahead of the pair and managed to get out of camp first. Puddlewhisper waved goodbye as the Clan dissolved into relieved chuckles and grateful purrs. They were gaining two apprentices rather than losing two kits that day.

"Puddlewhisper!" As the Clan set about their duties for the day, Oilstar hopped off the Shiprock and joined Puddlewhisper and her littermates. "I need you to take Venturedapple and Wolfgaze to the border. SlugClan's expecting a patrol."

"Oilstar, Puddlewhisper shouldn't go," Waspdawn huffed, flicking his ear to catch the leader's attention. "She's Icepaw and Pearpaw's mother. SlugClan will be furious with her. Let me lead the patrol."

"Lettucestar wants this handled as much as we do," Oilstar sighed, shaking her head. "I want Puddlewhisper to face SlugClan so we all can have good relations again. They shouldn't see Puddlewhisper as a kit thief, and we shouldn't hide her like one."

"Not to doubt Puddlewhisper," Lavendertwist added, scratching an itch under his collar, "but maybe the three of us can at least come with? I don't really trust SlugClan to handle this well."

"They might behave better with a mediator around, too," Paleseed pointed out.

"If you're all so nervous about it," Oilstar said, "you can go with. Just don't make this seem like a war patrol, please? We've had enough injuries from the other Clans lately."

With a few quick stretches and a call to Venturedapple and Wolfgaze, Puddlewhisper's patrol was off for the border. As they left camp, Puddlewhisper spotted her kits and their mentors lingering along the southern coast. They splashed in the shallow salt water, laughing like kits. Puddlewhisper's heart warmed. Perhaps young mentors would make Icepaw and Pearpaw's lives feel a bit more normal. They deserved normalcy.

"They fell in a heap to claw the mud," Lavendertwist sang as the patrol pressed through the bright green forest, "that dyed their muzzles and pelts in rud, tunnelled until the ground bore blood, with all the blowflies swarming."

"Are you really singing 'Quiet Jaypaw' on a day like this?" Waspdawn sighed, unable to hide a hint of mild amusement despite how he shook his head.

"'Quiet Jaypaw'?" Venturedapple muttered from the back of the patrol.

"A creepy song about a roguehearted apprentice," Puddlewhisper hummed.

"Silverpaw used to love that song!" Wolfgaze laughed, jogging up to Lavendertwist's side.

"Ripplefern and I learned it from a SlugClan apprentice when we were young," Lavendertwist chuckled. "It feels like… the right song for the moment. You remember the main part, Wolfgaze?"

"Where, o where is quiet Jaypaw?" Wolfgaze sang, lacking the same skilled voice as Lavendertwist but sharing in the heart of the song. "Quiet Jaypaw can't be saved."

"Where, o where is quiet Jaypaw?" Lavendertwist joined Wolfgaze in the song. "Quiet Jaypaw, quiet grave." Lavendertwist and Wolfgaze laughed as they finished, earning an eyeroll from Venturedapple and a hidden purr from Waspdawn. Puddlewhisper hummed the melody under her breath, yet her gut twinged. Would she want the bearers of bad news approaching a meeting like this in song? Yet as Lavendertwist started the next verse, he glanced at Puddlewhisper, hesitating through the first line. Ah. So that was the reason.

"Poked at the grave 'til it bared its bones," Puddlewhisper hummed along with the two singers, "it bared its bones, it bared its bones, it bared its bones, poked at the grave 'til it bared its bones, the crows call out their warning."

"Finches and warblers, gray catbirds," Paleseed joined in, "With twisted beaks and eyes all blurred, feathers as red as a fox's fur—"

"Savage and painted and warring," Waspdawn muttered. Lavendertwist, Wolgaze, and Paleseed cheered at Waspdawn's voice. Puddlewhisper decided she would have to teach her kits that song. The chorus replaced Puddlewhisper's dread as the patrol (sans Venturedapple, who stared bug-eyed and confused) trekked through the brightening forest.

The patrol beat SlugClan to the border where RippleClan, WheatClan, and AshClan met, but only by a little. Puddlewhisper barely had time to find a sundappled rock to rest upon before shapes slipped through the trees. Lighttrail was at the front, with one of SlugClan's mediators at his side. But the molly everyone expected and dreaded to see plunged past them, blue eyes sparkling.

"Are they here?" Nimblestep gulped, skidding to a stop at the edge of RippleClan territory. She scanned the large patrol, but her ears dipped lower and lower as she saw no small bodies in the crowd.

"Icepaw and Pearpaw," Waspdawn sighed, clearing his throat, "have decided to stay in RippleClan." Nimblestep contnued to search the patrol, but her face fell further and further.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Lighttrail muttered.

"They are still looking forward to meeting you, Nimblestep," Paleseed quickly interjected, trying to catch Nimblestep's fluttering attention. "They can explain their perspectives at the Gathering."

"What do I tell Quickpaw?" Nimblestep gulped. Her wide eyes focused on Puddlewhisper, who sat calmly in the center of the RippleClan patrol. "What did you tell them about me?"

"They know you care," Puddlewhisper said, picking her words carefully. "You still hurt them, though." Puddlewhisper risked moving closer as Nimblestep's breathing tightened. "You left them for dead, and made them fear for their lives with that patrol. I'm sorry, but you'll have to live with that."

"None of this would have happened if RippleClan weren't a group of foxhearts!" Nimblestep hissed. "You caused this! You took my family from me!"

It was simple hopefulness that kept Puddlewhisper so close to Nimblestep as the brown molly's lips curled and her claws glinted in the dappled morning light. But it was the echo of her words that kept Puddlewhisper from running as Nimblestep pounced on her. Her fangs instantly sunk into Puddlewhisper's tail, as though trying to bite straight through.

"Nimblestep, stop!" Lighttrail barked as every cat, SlugClan and RippleClan, converged on the furious mother. As Puddlewhisper tried to save her tail, however, Nimblestep's furious shaking stopped. Her jaw froze around Puddlewhisper's tail, still digging into her skin, blood still blooming around her fangs, but no longer applying active pressure. She wasn't even breathing. As Puddlewhisper suspected, Wolfgaze stood behind her, green eyes burning with star-given power. Puddlewhisper's body went numb as she looked into Wolfgaze's eyes.

"So this is the Rule of Three in action," Lighttrail muttered, backing away from Nimblestep, eyes locked on Wolfgaze. Waspdawn and Lavendertwist pried Nimblestep's frozen mouth off Puddlewhisper's tail. Puddlewhisper scrambled back, her blood burning. Paleseed swooped around her sister and groomed her pulsing wound. Waspdawn and Lavendertwist shoved Nimblestep back over the border. Wolfgaze broke her supernatural connection. Nimblestep's wide jaw snapped shut on empty air. She startled, tumbling back into the SlugClan mediator.

"Go home, now," Waspdawn growled. "The apprentices made their decision. That's the end of it." Waspdawn joined Puddlewhisper as Paleseed helped her to her paws. Puddlewhisper cradled her numb tail to her side.

"You are witches," Nimblestep hissed as Lighttrail pushed her back toward SlugClan. "Achilles was right. RippleClan is full of witches! This is all your fault!" Another strong shove from Lighttrail silenced the grieving mother. The small SlugClan patrol stumbled back to their territory, prizeless.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Lavendertwist muttered, glaring at the retreating cats.

"Let's get Puddlewhisper to the clerics," Venturedapple said, quietly taking the lead back home.

"Don't tell my kits yet," Puddlewhisper hissed through gritted teeth. "Let them enjoy their first day out of camp."

"StarClan knows what sort of wicked thoughts Nimblestep would have taught those kits," Wolfgaze grumbled as the patrol followed Venturedapple. Puddlewhisper focused her energy on the pain in her tail, but her thoughts still spun. Cruel or not, just or not, Nimblestep was right.

RippleClan destroyed her family.

(Puddlewhisper: 62, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Paleseed: 62, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

(Pearpaw: 6, female, historian apprentice, righteous, moss-ball hunter, lover of stories)

(Icepaw: 6, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Oilstar: 100, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Shrewflame: 20, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Whiteflower: 13, male, historian, faithful, great kitsitter)

(Waspdawn: 62, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Lavendertwist: 62, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Venturedapple: 84, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

(Wolfgaze: 31, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)

Dovepaw gets to train as a warrior under Wolverineheart. Scaleripple takes all the new apprentices training and discovers he really likes teaching. He asks Thundergale and Shrewflame to help him be a teacher.

[Image ID: Scaleripple guides Pearpaw, Icepaw, and Dovepaw (now in a tall apprentice sprite) through a hunter's crouch. Under Dovepaw, it says LEVEL UP! DOVEKIT → DOVEPAW, IMPULSIVE → OBLIVIOUS. Scaleripple says, "Crouch like this…" Under him, it says LEVEL UP! FORMIDABLE FIGHTER → UNUSUALLY STRONG FIGHTER.]

(Pearpaw: 6, female, historian apprentice, righteous, moss-ball hunter, lover of stories)

(Icepaw: 6, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Dovepaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, oblivious, active imagination)

(Scaleripple: 49, male, teacher, lonesome, unusually strong fighter)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 90, Part 3

[Image ID: Lightningrunner yowls at Estherfern, "You took her from me! I barely got to know her! Why do you get to be a mother when she didn’t get to be mine?" Shrewflame and Whitepaw run toward the pair.]

ONE MOON PRIOR…

It seemed like a waste of a skilled cleric's time to accompany an apprentice to his training, but Estherfern supposed she would want someone close by if one of her kits were to injure themselves carelessly. She strolled beside Lightningrunner as Shrewflame and Whitepaw pranced ahead of them, making their way to Battle Beach. It seemed like far too gray and bright a day to spar, but the youth of RippleClan didn't care much for her opinion.

"Mr. Billowhaze said to be careful by the water," Whitepaw chirped, gazing up at his older brother like a Clan oogles a new leader. "Do you think Mom's stories about fish-cats are real?"

"Mom's an artisan, not a historian," Shrewflame laughed. "Her stories are all fake. Don't worry, the only creatures you should worry about in the ocean are poisonous fish."

"I don't think that makes me feel better," Whitepaw chuckled awkwardly. The two brothers left dainty pawprints in the sand.

"If you want to know more about the ocean," Lightningrunner said, "ask me anything."

"I will, Ms. Lightningrunner," Whitepaw promised, turning an ear back to her. Estherfern hummed softly at the young apprentice's strange phrasing. There was something humble about the titles, even though Estherfern had no idea what they meant.

"Battle Beach!" Shrewflame chirped as the patrol crossed into that special portion of the shoreline. To Estherfern, there was nothing particularly special about this portion of the beach as opposed to any other stretch of snow-dusted land. She wouldn't have known of their arrival had Shrewflame not pointed it out. Still, her Clanmates raved about fond memories sparring along the sand, so it was yet another thing she learned to keep her mouth shut about.

"Is sparring at all like that big fight Mr. Tallowheart and Ms. Cobaltchaser had?" Whitepaw asked, kneading the sand.

"That was just a fight, Whitepaw," Shrewflame laughed, running his tail over Whitepaw's head as he walked past. "When we spar with our Clanmates, we're practicing our skills and challenging ourselves. We aren't hurting one another, though. That's why you don't unseathe your claws. You aren't supposed to draw blood when you're training."

"I won't," Whitepaw promised. He ran to catch up with Shrewflame. He glanced back at Estherfern and Lightningrunner and called, "Ms. Lightningrunner, are you going to spar too?"

"I'll let you start with your brother!" Lightningrunner called. Estherfern found a partially dry spot closer to the trees. She sat her bandage down and tucked her paws under herself. Lightningrunner sat beside her, tail stirring the dusting of snow behind her. Shrewflame steadied himself, paws dug into the sand. Whitepaw copied him as best he could. His legs stretched out a bit too far to look comfortable.

"I'll start simple," Shrewflame said. "A lot of the basics of fighting involve the sort of moves cats instinctually use when they're in danger. Paw swipes, grabbing onto your enemy, things like that. Let's start with swipes. Swipe at my face, as best you—" Whitepaw's fluffy paw whipped out from his awkward stance. He smacked Shrewflame across the face. Shrewflame stumbled to the side, blinking wildly.

"Ah!" Whitepaw yelped. "Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?" Whitepaw hovered around Shrewflame, now scared to get too close. But Shrewflame just laughed. He shook out his pelt, letting his laughter ripple through his ginger fur.

"Now that was a swipe!" Shrewflame roared, rubbing his face on his leg. "StarClan, Whitepaw! Who knew you were so strong?" Whitepaw chuckled awkwardly, but his ears perked high and his tail unwound itself from his side.

Shrewflame went on about angling your paw and steadying yourself after a strike, but Estherfern's attention drifted. The forest had grown grayer by the day, and the snow meant approaching death and hibernation to the plants her fellow clerics so valued. She never imagined caring so much about medical stocks, but she never imagined any of this when she first set off west under the orders of her God.

"These two will be fine," Estherfern huffed to Lightningrunner, stretching as she stood. "I'm going to forage. Will you help?"

"Alright," Lightningrunner said, getting to her paws. Estherfern left her bandage behind and led Lightningrunner into the trees as Shrewflame and Whitepaw laughed and batted at each other.

RippleClan would soon turn to bark-based medicine as winter rolled in and vibrant herbs vanished, but it wasn't winter yet. It was the sort of weather where everything looked a bit like Estherfern; brown and tan and earthy. She could see how the world fought to ignore the approaching chill, even though the first frost had settled over the land. Green grass mixed with yellow, insisting on life. The earliest of winter blooms still dared not to show themselves. The land was waiting, preparing, hoping for a peaceful winter, just like all the Clans.

Estherfern brushed aside snow to get a better look at every plant. Not too far from Battle Beach, she uncovered chicory, its leaves almost identical to a dandelion. Artisans and caretakers could roast the root for their meals and strengthen everyone's stomaches. Estherfern carefully dug around the leaves and plucked the root from the frosty dirt.

"Is this something we should collect?" Lightningrunner called. Her paw danced around a large fallen branch, sprinkled with golden-brown mushrooms. Estherfern joined Lightningrunner and looped around the branch. She studied the mushrooms and their round caps, with a name quickly coming to mind.

"Deadly skullcaps," Estherfern warned, shaking her head. "I knew these mushrooms in my kithood. They are some of the most toxic mushrooms any cat has ever seen. They're as deadly as deathberries. Don't touch them."

Estherfern trotted back to her chicory root and picked it up. She glanced back at Lightningrunner, ready for the young historian to follow her to better, safer herbs. Yet Lightningrunner just stood there. She stared at the deadly skullcaps. Her dark blue eyes were slit and sharp. Her unnerving, unblinking glare drifted onto Estherfern.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Estherfern huffed, dropping the chicory root. Lightningrunner looked back to the deadly skullcaps.

"You should eat them," Lightningrunner said. Estherfern's claws instinctually slipped out. Her ears perked high, turning sideways, alert and ready.

"Say that again," Estherfern said. Lightningrunner's whiskers pushed back against her face. Her ears slowly turned backward, fighting not to go back. She looked at Estherfern once more. Her jaw quivered, searching for the path forward.

"You…" Lightningrunner gulped. She steadied herself, just as Shrewflame readied for Whitepaw's initial strike. "You should eat them. You, you should eat them, and you should die."

"By God, Lightningrunner, you're talking nonsense," Estherfern snapped. "What's gotten into you?"

"I," Lightningrunner stammered, "You… Ugh! What sort of justice is it when a killer goes free?" Lightningrunner curled her lips.

"Again, Lightningrunner," Estherfern growled, "you're talking nonsense. Justice? What justice?"

"You know what justice!" Lightningrunner cried. Her voice rose so fast and violent that Estherfern jumped. Estherfern never jumped. "You know what you did! You summoned the spirits. You got my mom killed!" Ah. That justice.

"I was wondering if you would ask me about that someday," Estherfern sighed, smoothing her pelt. "I don't have good answers for you, Lightningrunner. I meddled with forces I thought I could control, and RippleClan suffered for it. I've done what I can to atone."

"No you haven't," Lightningrunner whined. "You got away with it because Foampaw died, but what about Silverpaw? What about my mom? Do you think there's anything you can do to make up for that? I never saw her body, Estherfern! She was my mom! You took her from me! I barely got to know her! Why do you get to be a mother when she didn’t get to be mine?" Estherfern had no clever retort to that. She dipped her head, but her eyes caught a flash of red in the trees. Shrewflame and Whitepaw slowly approached the arguing pair, ears cocked in confusion.

"I'm sorry, Lightningrunner," Estherfern sighed, straightening, "but I'm not killing myself for you."

"Yes, yes you are," Lightningrunner growled, tail curling, voice cracking. "Eat the mushrooms, or… or I'll just kill you myself!" Shrewflame and Whitepaw ran. Lightningrunner's eyes bounced, blind to all but her own vengeance. "Eat them! Eat them, you foxheart!"

Lightningrunner ran at Estherfern. Whitepaw, small Whitepaw, too-strong-for-his-age Whitepaw, launched past his brother and landed on Lightningrunner's neck, a tail-length from Estherfern. Whitepaw's fangs dug into her scruff, but no, it wasn't her scruff, his jaw wasn't in the right spot, it was her neck, her spine, Whitepaw let go right now—

Light sparked in Lightningrunner's eyes as a violent spasm took over her body. Blood splashed in Whitepaw's mouth. Lightningrunner's strength ebbed away. Her claws, tense and ready to strike, relaxed. She grew limp as leather underneath Whitepaw. Lightningrunner didn't even have time to whine before her life left her.

Whitepaw let go. Shrewflame stumbled upon the scene, his body begging to retreat. Estherfern stood over Lightningrunner's body. She no longer looked like a killer. She looked like a kit.

Whitepaw whined, a wordless, painful cry. He fell off Lightningrunner's body. He ran to Shrewflame, burying his bloody face in his brother's red fur.

"How…" Shrewflame gulped. "What… I don't…"

"I was trying to pull her off!" Whitepaw wailed, voice muffled in Shrewflame's pelt. "I didn't want her to hurt Ms. Estherfern! I didn't want to hurt her!"

"White, White, I know," Shrewflame cooed. He slowly wrapped himself around his weeping brother, hiding all traces of blood-stained white fur from the world. Whitepaw shook so hard that Shrewflame struggled to stay upright. "I know, I know. It was an accident. I know, White. You didn't mean it."

But would the Clan see it that way? Another dead Clanmate, killed, murdered. It had nothing to do with Potterypool, but would anyone believe them? Estherfern barely believed her own senses. An apprentice, barely a quarter moon into training, somehow landing a killing bite on a well-trained historian? Not just any historian, the little sister to one of RippleClan's most unified and beloved families, the daughter of Weedfoot, the Celestial of RippleClan Deputies. The three cats who stood before Lightningrunner's body were outsiders, welcomed into the safety of the shipwreck. Would any of them be allowed to remain after this? Who would believe Lightningrunner, of all cats, would suddenly try to kill Estherfern? Who would see Whitepaw's actions as justified?

No. Whitepaw and Shrewflame were barely out of kithood. They wouldn't suffer for a mess Estherfern caused. This was justice.

"Both of you, listen to me," Estherfern snapped. Shrewflame and Whitepaw snapped out of their shock for just a moment, looking up. Whitepaw looked pink with the blood on his lips. "I'm going to fix this. Nothing will happen to you, Whitepaw. Shrewflame, here, now." Shrewflame slipped himself out from around Whitepaw and crept closer to Lightningrunner's body. Estherfern studied the deadly wound. Even though Whitepaw was close to full-grown, it was clear that no adult cat bit into Lightningrunner. "Shrewflame, I need you to bite into Lightningrunner. You have to cover up Whitepaw's teethmarks."

"But—" Shrewflame stammered, gagging on the thought.

"Shrewflame, we are doing this to protect your brother," Estherfern growled. "Bite her neck, now."

Shrewflame's lips curled, almost prancing in his indecision. But then he looked back at Whitepaw, with wide eyes and his awful, bloody face. Shrewflame hardened. He squeezed his eyes tight and snapped his fangs around the back of Lightningrunner's neck. Estherfern tuned out the squish of flesh and bone.

"Now, both of you, to the ocean," Estherfern ordered as Shrewflame let go and hurried back to Whitepaw. "You're going to wash the blood out of your fur. Don't get out until it's all gone. Then you're going to run to camp and tell the codekeepers that Lightningrunner is dead." Whitepaw pressed against Shrewflame. "This is what happened. While you were swimming, Lightningrunner went to investigate a sound in the forest. When she didn't come back, we went to find her. We found her body. We don't know who did this. We were on the beach. We heard nothing."

"I killed her," Whitepaw whined.

"No you didn't," Estherfern growled, trying to soften her voice. "Not anymore. No one will know. You're not in trouble. You're my hero, Whitepaw, you did nothing wrong. Now go." Whitepaw moved toward Estherfern, but Shrewflame nudged him back. He shook his head, wide eyes glancing at Lightningrunner. He shoved Whitepaw back toward the beach. The two young toms scrambled out of sight.

Estherfern paced around Lightningrunner's body. She brushed the snow with her tail, removing nearby pawprints. No one would be able to tell which way the attacker came from, even if they questioned the patrol's story. With her tail coated in frost and the scene firmly scuffled, Estherfern sat at Lightningrunner's side, like a cleric mourning her charge.

"You stupid child," Estherfern moaned, lowering her head into Lightningrunner's pelt.

No one would know.

(Estherfern: 123, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Whitepaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, nervous, active imagination)

(Shrewflame: 13, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Lightningrunner: 19, female, historian, nervous, explorer, helpful insight)

[Image ID: Estherfern says to Lemmy, "I don't want to ruin her legacy over a moment of weakness. Do you want the Clan to look at Whitepaw like a killer?" Halibutdusk, Scaleripple, and Oilstripe approach from the distance.]

---

At the end of the story, Lemmy could only sit and think it through. Honeybuzz and Estherfern stared at her, silent, squirming. The quarantine den seemed even colder now.

"No one would know," Lemmy muttered, staring at Estherfern. "Yet you told Honeybuzz."

"I have…" Honeybuzz groaned, "let's say experience with issues like these. Do you understand why we can't let the Clan know now?"

"Call me a hypocrite for this," Lemmy huffed, "but if Lightningrunner tried to kill you, Estherfern, wouldn't you want the Clan to know?" Estherfern bristled.

"None of it would have happened if I had not communed with Spirits of Shadow," the old cleric sighed. "Lightningrunner had the right to be mad at me. I don't want to ruin her legacy over a moment of weakness. Do you want the Clan to look at Whitepaw like a killer?"

Pawsteps broke the snow outside. It had gotten brighter in the time Estherfern spent telling her story. Now morning light burned against the trees beyond. Scaleripple, Halibutdusk, and Oilstripe stood outside, stone still. Time for the trial. Lemmy sighed and stood, squaring herself in front of her Clanmates' painful gaze.

"We need a little more time, please," Honeybuzz stammered, getting up and close to Lemmy's escorts. "We want this to be easy on the Clan. We're not done talking with Lemmy."

"I want her out of this camp," Scaleripple growled. Oilstripe cleared her throat, diverting Scaleripple's boiling blue hate away from Lemmy for a moment.

"The spirits in here are agitated," Oilstripe whispered, ears tilting back, ruffling the thick maple leaves stuck to her fur. "We don't want a long trial. If they can make her tell the truth now, the whole Clan won't have to hurt for long."

"Everyone's waiting, Oilstripe," Halibutdusk huffed.

"I know," Oilstripe groaned, "but do you think they'd rather sit there all day or wait a bit longer and be done with all this before sunhigh?" Halibutdusk and Scaleripple both squirmed, but neither confronted their deputy. Oilstripe turned to Honeybuzz and said, "Lead her out into the clearing when you're finished here." Honeybuzz nodded as Oilstripe led Scaleripple and Halibutdusk back around the shipwreck.

"We don't have long, Lemmy," Estherfern sighed. "I know you don't see your actions as strictly right and wrong, so why see this differently? There's no crazed killer living in our Clan. Don't make them suffer more than they already are." Lemmy's neck itched under her collar. Her head ached. Was there any good decision here? Was this any different than Lemmy's own coverup? Did the truth deserve to come to light? Or would the truth hurt worse than the lie?

"If I say I killed both Potterypool and Lightningrunner," Lemmy said softly, "what then?"

"Unless something strange happens at the trial," Honeybuzz explained, "Downstar has promised to exile you. Just play along with Waspdawn's version of events." Exile… not much different from the life Lemmy knew before RippleClan, before the Witch Hunters. And it wasn't as though she would lack purpose. There were still threats to the cats she cared for, threats to her kits and mate. She would do more good alive than dead. Even if it meant never seeing her daughters again. Maybe they would understand, one day.

"Do one thing for me, in return," Lemmy said. "Take care of my family."

"You deserve that, at least," Honeybuzz sighed. "Thank you. Are you ready, then?" Lemmy slowly approached the edge of the quarantine den. She could smell the grief and rage wafting off her Clan, just around the corner. The sun burned the land in brilliant purple and red, yet no warmth pierced the snow that muffled all birdsong. The walls of the shipwreck burned with illusionary fire. A good final view of her home.

"Take me to my exile," Lemmy sighed.

(Lemmy: 66, female, exiled, cold, deep StarClan bond, good mediator)

(Honeybuzz: 38, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Estherfern: 124, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Scaleripple: 43, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Oilstripe: 94, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Halibutdusk: 82, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 95, Part 2

The third time’s the charm when Anchovystrike goes to see Weevilsight in the medicine den.

[Image ID: Anchovystrike approaches Weevilsight and Elmsprout from the back, calling "Weevil? Are you busy?" Under Anchovystrike, it says + MATE: WEEVILSIGHT. Under Weevilsight, it says + MATE: ANCHOVYSTRIKE.]

Anchovystrike placed the freshly caught mouse on the fresh-kill pile, loaded with prey for the caretakers to soon turn into the sunhigh meal. The back of his jaw twinged as he let go. He hissed softly and kept his mouth shut tight. Pain rippled from his jaw in beat with his heart. He glanced toward the medicine den, where Currentsmoke helped Yarrowclaw groom the deep wound on the back of her leg; the LynxClan thieves from the moon before landed a lucky blow on Yarrowclaw's ankle, leaving a wound so deep that Anchovystrike at first feared the clerics would have to take his sister's foot off. But Yarrowclaw was not the reason Anchovystrike hesitated by the fresh-kill pile, unable to stop looking into the medicine den.

Anchovystrike gasped as his tongue glanced over his aching tooth. Sharp pain clawed at his face. He certainly couldn't help Ravenweaver and Frostpaw with their self-defense training that afternoon if his jaw was acting like this. He just had to stop acting like a kit and go in.

Anchovystrike slipped through the crowded camp, where Mitespark entertained the younger cats with a story and Lavendertwist's little group of musicians (including Splashtuft, Brightreed, and Drumtooth) practiced a song. He prayed to the Celestial of Avoiding Awkward Encounters that the molly he dreaded to talk to wasn't inside the medicine den (and that there was, in fact, a Celestial of Avoiding Awkward Encounters). Still, Anchovystrike knew as he passed his littermates that he wouldn't be so lucky.

Elmsprout and Weevilsight were cleaning out Downstar's nest. No one felt comfortable touching it until a few days after the vigil, when Oilstar pointed out that Downstar wouldn't appreciate the smell of her own death polluting the medicine den. As such, Elmsprout and Weevilsight deconstructed the moss, leather, and feathers that formed Downstar's death-nest. They placed the moss and feathers into one basket, likely to be thrown away, and threw the leather into another for the caretakers to wash. Neither noticed Anchovystrike step inside. Oh StarClan, was he going to have to call himself out?

"Weevil?" Anchovystrike gulped. "Are you busy?" Elmsprout looked up first as Weevilsight moved another piece of leather.

"Hello, Anchovystrike," Elmsprout hummed. "If you give us a few moments, I can get out of your fur."

"It's nothing serious!" Anchovystrike insisted as Weevilsight turned to him. In his eyes, Weevilsight's pelt glistened like Silverpelt itself. Where it made Wolfgaze seem powerful and far more confident than she actually was, it just made Weevilsight all the more beautiful. Anchovystrike almost forgot why he came into the den until another ripple of pain erupted from his tooth. He flinched, hissing, "I think I have a toothache."

"Did it just start?" Weevilsight asked, abandoning her task.

"It started to hurt yesterday," Anchovystrike explained through gritted teeth. "I thought it would go away overnight, but it didn't. It's on the bottom left, far in the back." Anchovystrike opened his mouth wide. Weevilsight peered into his glistening jaws.

"Have you been using chew sticks?" Weevilsight asked.

"When I remember," Anchovystrike chuckled awkwardly as Weevilsight's nose nearly entered his mouth.

"Well they haven't been getting to the back of your mouth," Weevilsight huffed. "This time of year, I would give you speckled alder bark, but we haven't been able to get any from SlugClan with the recent tension. The best way to fix this is salt water. You're going to want to head to the coast and get a lot of water in your mouth, but don't drink it. Just let it sit there for a while and then spit it out. If you do that for a while, it can get all the gunk I see back there."

"Thanks," Anchovystrike purred, "but do you have anything for the pain?"

"I have some cow parsnip root," Weevilsight explained, moving to the medicine stores. "What we can do for initial treatment is hold the root on the tooth until the current bout of pain goes away. It's a better option than white cedar gum, but you'll need to sit with the root for a bit. Do you have the time?"

"I'll take as much time as I need for this," Anchovystrike groaned. He found an empty nest near the front of the den's larger patient area and took a seat.

"I can take the baskets out, Weevilsight," Elmsprout said, slipping the basket of dirty moss over her neck. "I'm going to take these materials to the garden, and I'll come back for the leather."

"Thanks, Elmsprout," Weevilsight said politely as Elmsprout left the den. Anchovystrike might have noticed the coy look in Elmsprout's eyes were he not distracted by the pain in his mouth.

A few moments later, Weevilsight had a long, pale tan root in her mouth. She passed the root to Anchovystrike, who quickly adjusted it to sit on his stabbing tooth. The root prevented any chance of Anchovystrike saying something mouse-brained again. He settled down as Weevilsight collected a few more dirty leathers from around the den and put them in the basket.

"I saw you playing with Midnightkit during the vigil," Weevilsight said, startling Anchovystrike. "I heard he's interested in being a warrior. Do you think you might want to mentor him?" Anchovystrike nodded. The young black tom had an odd sort of constantly-unaware charm about him that seemed ripe with potential. Besides, someone needed to keep him from disturbing Wildclaw in her grief. "Good. I think you two will work well together. So long as you don't avoid him for a whole moon." Weevilsight glared at Anchovystrike. Oh StarClan, Anchovystrike was in for it now.

Weevilsight sat by Anchovystrike in a huff, saying, "Yes, I know you've been avoiding me. That's why your tooth is bad, you haven't been getting any chew sticks from us! I'm not a kit, Anchovy, I can tell you don't know what to say to me." Anchovystrike stared at the root protruding from his mouth. "Really, who do you take me for? You're my best friend. I'm not mad that you asked me to be your mate. A lot's happened lately." Anchovystrike wanted to melt through the ground. "Stars forbid I want something to stay the same while my whole life is collapsing."

"Sorry," Anchovystrike said through the root.

"Don't be sorry for asking," Weevilsight snapped. "Be sorry that you ignored me. Don't tell me I can't be your friend if I'm not your mate."

"No!" Anchovystrike gasped. He nearly choked on his cow parsnip root.

"Can you just…" Weevilsight sighed, sinking to Anchovystrike's level, "not ignore me anymore? This feel like a mouse-brained thing to argue about." Anchovystrike enthusiatically nodded. "Good. Now I need to go see Thundergale, I'll be back in a little bit and we can check your tooth." Weevilsight licked Anchovystrike's ear and stood with a big stretch. Just as Anchovystrike laid his head back down and Weevilsight neared the exit, she paused. The tortoiseshell cleric turned around and said, "When your tooth's better, we can go out of camp for a bit if you want. In a… mate-like way."

Anchovystrike held back his yowl of victory until Weevilsight left. The whole camp still heard him, though.

(Anchovystrike: 30, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Elmsprout: 62, female, caretaker, charismatic, trusted advisor)

(Weevilsight: 30, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

Gingerpaw enthusiastically declares that Stormjump is expecting Honeybuzz’s kits.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Sandhollow, and Yellowburst gather around Stormjump. Yellowburst says, "Yes! Thundergale owes me five patrols!" Under Stormjump, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT. Under Yellowburst, it says - CONDITION: BITE WOUND. In the foreground, Gingerpaw says to Estherfern, "See, Estherfern? I'm more than ready to graduate."]

(Gingerpaw: 11, male, cleric apprentice, charismatic, curious about humans, moss-ball hunter)

(Estherfern: 129, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Honeybuzz: 43, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Stormjump: 26, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Sandhollow: 26, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Yellowburst: 26, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)

Oilstar fights with Ospreystar at the Gathering. When she hears Ospreystar’s reasoning for raiding crabs, Oilstar begins to wonder if RippleClan needs to better leverage their access to the coast.

[Image ID: RippleClan socializes in the distance while Oilstar and Ospreystar argue on the Leader's Stone. Ospreystar says, "No Clan owned the ocean until RippleClan came along."]

(Oilstar: 99, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

When Thundergale wakes up, she cannot hear the late spring birdsong. Her hearing is completely gone.

[Image ID: Sandhollow, Wolverineheart, and Mitespark surround Thundergale. They speak, but all their text bubbles say is "??????" Under Thundergale, it says LEVEL UP! PARTIAL HEARING LOSS → DEAF.]

(Sandhollow: 26, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Thundergale: 27, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)

(Wolverineheart: 27, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Mitespark: 37, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)

Whiteflower becomes the Clan’s newest historian, although he seems more like a caretaker as he looks after the kits.

[Image ID: Shrewflame stands proudly behind Whiteflower, now in a long-furred sprite, as he talks with Midnightkit, Valleykit, Icekit, Pearkit, and Dovekit. Whiteflower says, "Whoever told you you have to outgrow games lied. Most of you may be apprentices next moon, but you can always play some mossball." Under Whiteflower, it says LEVEL UP! WHITEPAW → WHITEFLOWER, NERVOUS → FAITHFUL, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GREAT KITSITTER.]

(Shrewflame: 19, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Whiteflower: 12, male, historian, faithful, great kitsitter)

(Midnightkit: 4, male, kit, polite, always wandering)

(Valleykit: 4, male, kit, quiet, avid play-fighter)

(Icekit: 5, male, kit, unruly, oddly observant)

(Pearkit: 5, female, kit, quiet, moss-ball hunter)

(Dovekit: 5, male, kit, impulsive, active imagination)

It’s all Icekit can do to huddle in the darkness of the medicine den with yet another headache.

[Image ID: Icekit huddles to the side, with + PERMANENT CONDITION: PERSISTENT HEADACHES under him. Pearkit talks to Troutpool in the back. Troutpool says "Remember to be quiet for him, alright?"]

---

Icekit had a headache. Again. Pearkit didn't know a lot about the world, but she knew cats didn't have this many headaches. Puddlewhisper must have known that too, as she was deep in conversation with Troutpool while Pearkit waited outside the medicine den. Now Pearkit wasn't supposed to necessarily hear everything the pair were talking about, but it was her brother in there! She deserved to know what was wrong with him! Wherever Icekit went, Pearkit went too. And so she sat in the evening glow, ears turned to the medicine den, waiting to hear what her mother wouldn't tell her.

"I've been counting, Troutpool," Puddlewhisper huffed. "He's had to go to the medicine den almost twelve times in three moons! That isn't normal."

"Well, everyone gets headaches," Troutpool said. She hesitated as she spoke, however.

"Headaches don't make you throw up," Puddlewhisper hissed. "He gets sick every other time he has to go in here."

"I know," Troutpool sighed. "I'm not trying to dismiss you. We just don't have any answers for you. We don't know why he gets these headaches."

"I do. You remember what happened when we brought him home."

"But he was fine then. I checked him over myself."

"Maybe it's something that develops with age. I shouldn't have doubted my gut. She caused this, Troutpool." Who were they talking about?

"It's up to you if we tell them now or not. But they need to know soon if they're going to make their decision." Decision? Pearkit's fur prickled. They certainly weren't talking about apprenticeship decisions. Pearkit had the sickening suspicion she knew what they wanted her to choose.

"I just don't know what to do," Puddlewhisper sighed. "They're my kits now, Troutpool. Maybe even more-so than Nimblestep."

"I know, I know. We should let Icekit sleep, though. Sleep is the best medicine for a headache." Oh StarClan, they were coming out! Pearkit ran back to the nursery. She tumbled into a sloppy loaf in front of the den as Puddlewhisper and Troutpool stepped out. She pretended to only just notice them as they headed for her. She prayed she was convincing. She didn't need to get in trouble so close to her apprenticeship!

"Icekit is going to sleep in the medicine den tonight," Puddlewhisper explained, running her tail over Pearkit's back. "He'll be back with us tomorrow. Let's go to sleep, alright?"

"I actually want to check on Icekit," Pearkit stammered as Puddlewhisper entered the nursery. "Just for a little bit! He seemed really miserable."

"Your brother's sleeping," Troutpool explained. "You both need to rest."

"How can I rest if I don't see him?" Pearkit huffed. Puddlewhisper peeked back out of the den.

"You can go see him, Pearkit," Puddlewhisper sighed. "If his head hurts too much, though, leave."

"I will," Pearkit said politely, already on her paws.

"Remember to be quiet for him, alright?" Troutpool asked. She waved her tail toward the medicine den, giving Pearkit full permission to see her brother. Pearkit ran past Troutpool and into the dark den.

Yarrowclaw was inside, nibbling at the bandage around her leg, but she seemed preoccupied with her task. Icekit's nest was far in the back, in the darkest corner the clerics could manage. Icekit's head hid under the moss and leather of his nest, blocking out painful light. Pearkit crept around Yarrowclaw and toward her brother.

"Icekit?" Pearkit whispered. "Are you awake?" Icekit groaned and shuffled out of his hidey-hole. The fuzzy fur around his face, only just moving into an adult coat, was scuffled and messy.

"I never fell asleep," Icekit whined. "My head hurts too much."

"I'm sorry," Pearkit said. "Troutpool says you'll feel better soon." Icekit bristled. His blood-shot eyes glared at nothing.

"She was talking with Mom," Icekit growled. "They said things we weren't supposed to know."

"I heard a bit of it," Pearkit whispered. She joined Icekit in his nest. "What sort of decision are they talking about?"

"They want us to choose where we live," Icekit huffed. "We can stay here with Mom or go to SlugClan with… our real mom. And Quickkit." Pearkit felt cold. She remembered cowering just a few tail-lengths away as SlugClan stormed the camp, determined to steal the two kits into unknown territory with unknown kin. She and Icekit heard the mediators whisper to each other about "visitation" and "the rights of the mother", but Pearkit barely understood it.

"What do you think Quickkit is like?" Pearkit wondered softly.

"Sandhollow called her 'spunky', whatever that means," Icekit grumbled. "Nimblestep probably treats her well." Icekit groaned, squeezing his eyes tight. He stuck his face back into the nest.

"Slushtrail told me Nimblestep was at the Gathering," Pearkit whispered, curling around her brother. "She asks about us a lot. She's probably very nice."

"Mom didn't tell us everything about how she found us," Icekit growled, voice muffled in the moss.

"Yes she did," Pearkit huffed, only half-believing herself. "Mom brought us home when Nimblestep ran off with Quickkit.

"But she could have taken all three of us!" Icekit pulled his head back into the light, even as he grimaced and groaned. "I heard them talk about it. Nimblestep didn't even touch you! She grabbed me and Quickkit. And then she dropped me! I hit my head on a tree root! That's why I have these headaches! Nimblestep did this to me!" Pearkit's thoughts faltered. That could happen?

"She didn't mean it," Pearkit finally managed to say. "Everyone says she loves us."

"She wouldn't have tried to steal us if she actually loved us," Icekit whimpered as though even his own voice caused him pain.

"I don't know," Pearkit gulped, barely breathing. "Maybe that's what moms do for kits. I want to know who Nimblestep and Quickkit are some day. Maybe they can tell us why Nimblestep saved Quickkit and…"

And not them. Pearkit couldn't make herself say that. She could barely imagine it. Puddlewhisper would die for them, she showed that when SlugClan invaded. She taught them about the warrior code, and what it meant to care for family and Clan alike. Pearkit could see that love reflected in the other mothers of RippleClan; Wildclaw, Elmsprout, even Darkkick! So if Nimblestep dropped Icekit, didn't go back for him, didn't even touch Pearkit… could they really be her kits?

"We can talk to her all we want at Gatherings," Icekit huffed. "I'm staying in RippleClan. I'm not leaving Mom."

"Then I'm not leaving either," Pearkit huffed, throwing herself on top of Icekit. Icekit hid his face while Pearkit relaxed on top of her brother. "We're both RippleClan cats, and that's it."

The pair would fall asleep like that, only discovered when Puddlewhisper tried to call Pearkit back to the nursery. She let the littermates be.

(Pearkit: 5, female, kit, quiet, moss-ball hunter)

(Puddlewhisper: 61, trans female, codekeeper, thoughtful, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Troutpool: 56, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Icekit: 5, male, kit, unruly, oddly observant)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 93

Anchovystrike’s dreams of romance and love have been crushed by Weevilsight’s rejection. She just isn't ready for a mate. They both vent about the situation to those they trust.

[Image ID: Troutpool speaks with Weevilsight in the back, while Anchovystrike confides in Billowhaze in the foreground. Billowhaze says "Give her—achoo—time." Under him, it says +CONDITION: RUNNY NOSE.]

(Billowhaze: 28, male, historian, loyal, good kit-sitter)

(Anchovystrike: 28, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Troutpool: 54, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Weevilsight: 28, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

Puddlewhisper reevaluates her morals when Yellowburst returns to camp with a bite-wound, having had a skirmish with SlugClan over her kits. How can she claim to be a good parent when she keeps her kits from their birth mother?

[Image ID: While Puddlewhisper sunbathes with Estherfern and Wolverineheart, Puddlewhisper watches Weevilsight lead Yellowburst to the medicine den. Under Yellowburst, it says + CONDITION: BITE WOUND.]

(Puddlewhisper: 59, trans female, codekeeper, thoughtful, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Estherfern: 127, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Wolverineheart: 25, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Weevilsight: 28, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Yellowburst: 24, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)

[rippleclan]

The next update is taking a bit, so musings on Clan life, circa Moon 87:

Currentsmoke’s jaw healed straight, but the muscles themselves are weaker. It takes more force in his bite for him to kill prey, and sometimes chewing/moving his jaw for a while makes it ache the rest of the day.

Meanwhile, Yarrowclaw has mixed opinions on her day-night cycling. She’s proud of how focused and determined she feels in her day cycle, but is terrified of another psychotic episode terrorizing her friends and family. Mainly, though, the problem has been other cats acting like the feelings police and getting worried whenever she gets really energized, day cycle or not.

There isn’t much distinction between stages of a romantic relationship in Clan culture (a possible future lore post), but in terms of seriousness and family bonding, Ravenweaver and Brightreed are closer mates than Wolfgaze and Billowhaze.

While Darkkick and Spikecrash don’t really have a mother-daughter relationship, they’ve found their own protective instincts toward one another and have grown closer!

Whitekit still uses distant southern dialect with Mr and Ms because he noticed when he talked like that, a lot of the older cats seemed really happy. The Clan still misses Parsley.

Speaking of Parsley, she is the Celestial of RippleClan Loners, acting as a guiding force for loners who join RippleClan. She has special interest in older cats who join, such as Estherfern.

Each Clan can directly channel a spirit of StarClan through official rituals and paths about once a year due to the amount of energy StarClan actually has; since RippleClan used their early summoning almost as soon as the year began in contacting Splintcarve, Celestial of Broken Bones, the other clerics teased Estherfern and Weevilsight for that so much that Troutpool uncharacteristically snapped at them.

Slushtrail has to defuse a lot of arguments between Gingerkit and Frostkit.

Shrewpaw got into a lot of trouble during the Moon 86 Gathering because he snuck off with SlugClan apprentices to one of their “smoke-dens” where they burn herbs like catmint and valerian to get high.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 86

Lightningrunner compliments Scaleripple on his new feather accessories.

[Image ID: Lightningrunner spends time with Scaleripple, who now has jay feathers woven into his tail. Under him, it reads + ACCESSORY: JAY FEATHERS. Estherfern approaches them, now in a crooked elder sprite, and says "Alright, preen somewhere else." Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! BLOODTHIRSTY → ADVENTUROUS.]

(Lightningrunner: 16, female, historian, nervous, explorer, helpful insight)

(Scaleripple: 39, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Estherfern: 120, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

Yarrowclaw takes the time to work through her issues with the mediators, getting approval to return to duty and a plan to handle her day-night cycling. Meanwhile, Downstar plays with her newly adopted grandson.

[Image ID: Yarrowclaw speaks with Spikecrash and Sandhollow. Under Spikecrash, it reads LEVEL UP! GOOD SPEAKER → GREAT SPEAKER. In the back, Downstar plays with Whitekit.]

(Whitekit: 3, male, kit, skittish, active imagination)

(Downstar: 145, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Yarrowclaw: 21, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

(Spikecrash: 61, female, mediator, wise, great speaker, lore keeper)

(Sandhollow: 17, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 84

Elmsprout and Lavendertwist welcome two kits into the world.

[Image ID: Elmsprout and Lavendertwist face two newborn kits; a ginger and white kit, and a pale silver kit with a few white markings. Under Elmsprout, it says - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Under the ginger kit, it says NEW PLAYER: GINGERKIT, 0, MALE, CHARMING. Under the silver kit, it says NEW PLAYER: FROSTKIT, 0, FEMALE, QUIET.]

(Elmsprout: 51, female, caretaker, charismatic, trusted advisor)

(Lavendertwist: 50, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Gingerkit: 0, male, kit, charming)

(Frostkit: 0, female, kit, quiet)

Currentsmoke expresses his concern about Yarrowclaw's recent behavior.

[Image ID: Mosspounce, Wolfgaze, Sandhollow, Weevilsight, and Anchovystrike run in a patrol, with Mosspounce calling "Yarrowclaw, get off the horse-path." Under Weevilsight, it says - INFECTION.]

---

Anchovystrike couldn't really share tongues with his brother, not like he wished he could. After all, Currentsmoke couldn't groom him back. It didn't help that the thick wound across Currentsmoke's face was still infected, covered in oozing concoctions. Weevilsight said the infections came and went, but to Anchovystrike, it all seemed like one big, continous disease. Yet that didn't matter. Injured or not, Currentsmoke was going to enjoy the anniversary celebration with the rest of RippleClan, basking in the sunhigh glow.

Most of the Clan was busy around Elmsprout and Lavendertwist. They had just given their litter of two, Frostkit and Gingerkit, their names, and everyone wanted to show the two tiny kittens what the warm sand and cool sea felt like. Meanwhile, the artisans and caretakers used some of RippleClan's precious salt to season enough prey for everyone. Anchovystrike and Weevilsight shared a woodpecker while Weevilsight helped Currentsmoke drink some salty, herb-soaked broth. The three cats basked in the summer sunshine, content with their meals.

"You know, Currentsmoke," Weevilsight sighed, nestling into the sand, "if you end up with a big scar from this, you won't be alone. Most of my tail has healed, but fighting that infection left a lot of the skin raw." Weevilsight showed off her tail, which no longer sported any bandages, as it had over the last few moons. Yet the skin was still pink and raw, irritated from exposure to other cats' diseases. The scarring ran across her ginger and black fur like new tortoiseshell markings. Had Weevilsight been a warrior, it would have been a mark of beauty.

"I duhn't care ah-out scars," Currentsmoke grumbled. "I just 'anna li'eh."

"You're not dying on us," Anchovystrike huffed, shoving Currentsmoke's shoulder. "You've got four clerics looking after you, and you've got me, Billowhaze, and Yarrowclaw keeping you busy. You're the best of us, Current. You're not going anywhere anytime soon." Currentsmoke purred and gently bunted heads with his brother, making sure not to touch his wounds. The supernatural glimmer in Weevilsight's pelt glowed brighter at the sight, and Anchovystrike purred just a bit harder. Yet as Anchovystrike dug into his share of the woodpecker, Currentsmoke tensed. Anchovystrike could feel Currentsmoke's tired muscles harden as he rested against him.

"More pain, Currentsmoke?" Weevilsight asked. She sniffed at Currentsmoke's jaw.

"Nuh," Currentsmoke mumbled. He scanned the happy crowd trapsing through the sand and salt water. Anchovystrike followed his gaze, unsure what he was looking for. "Souh'ing's wruhng 'ith Yarr'acla'ah."

"Yarrowclaw?" Anchovystrike clarified.

"She has been a little strange the last few moons," Weevilsight admitted. "Did you hear about her hunting patrol last moon?"

"She's been overworking herself, I know," Anchovystrike huffed. "But she realizes it eventually. She just gets into these moods lately."

"It's muhre than that," Currentsmoke insisted. The injured tom groaned and slowly pushed himself to his paws. His legs shook, his body's battle with his injuries draining too much strength from him to stay up for long. "She's nuh't here. Souh'ing's wruhng." Weevilsight pushed against Currentsmoke, making sure he didn't collapse. Currentsmoke tried to shake Weevilsight off, but hissed as the bandages restraining his jaw rubbed the wrong way.

Anchovystrike gave the anniversary celebration another look over. Was Yarrowclaw with Billowhaze? No, Billowhaze was joking with Wolfgaze and Ravenweaver over their own share of salty meat. Maybe she was spending time with her former mentor. No, that wasn't right either, Rapidleaf was talking through something with Estherfern, probably bonding over recent messages from StarClan or something of the sort. Yarrowclaw was close with Estherfern's litter, she was probably splashing through the water with them! And yet, no. Brightreed, Wolverineheart, Boughfur, and Thundergale were each busy with their own fun. Currentsmoke was right. Yarrowclaw wasn't at the anniversary celebration.

"Why do you think something is wrong?" Weevilsight asked, easing Currentsmoke back down.

"I heard her," Currentsmoke groaned. "She f'isited 'e. She didn't 'ake sense. She said she was going to cah'lete a rituh'al to cuh're 'e."

"To cure you?" Weevilsight muttered. "But we've said all the prayers we can think of. Estherfern even helped Honeybuzz commune with the Celestial of Broken Bones herself for extra advice and blessings. What could Yarrowclaw do?"

"She's in dang'ah!" Currentsmoke snapped. He tried to stand again, but his rising nerves worked in tamdem with his weakness and send him back into the sand.

"Rabbitjoy mentioned something about a ritual last moon," Anchovystrike realized. "That was why Yarrowclaw caught all that prey." Anchovystrike stood, shaking sand out of his fur. "You're right, Currentsmoke. I don't like this. I… I think I misunderstood what Yarrowclaw's been going through. We need to find her."

"I'm with you, Anchovy," Weevilsight promised, stretching. "I'm going to fetch Honeybuzz so he can look after Currentsmoke. Think you can put together a patrol?"

"Easily," Anchovystrike purred, nodding. He rubbed against Currentsmoke and said, "Don't worry, Current. We'll make sure Yarrowclaw is alright." Weevilsight and Anchovystrike crossed by each other, each focused on their goals. Anchovystrike wormed around his Clanmates, focused on Billowhaze, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver.

"Wolfgaze," Anchovystrike called as his friends and brother tried to fight off their giggles. "Can you join me for a bit? I need your help with something."

"What do you have to do that can't wait until after our celebration?" Ravenweaver asked, coughing to clear her laughter.

"Just…" Anchovystrike gulped, glancing at Billowhaze. "Call it a favor for a friend."

"You know I'd be happy to help," Wolfgaze said, getting to her paws. "Enjoy the rest of the meal for me, Billowhaze!"

"With pleasure," Billowhaze hummed, taking a huge bite out of the salted squirrel. Wolfgaze tucked her head and followed Anchovystrike.

"So you know," Anchovystrike chuckled, "we're going to talk about your interest in my brother later." Wolfgaze groaned softly, batting at her own red ears. "Right now though, I'm more interested in my sister. Can you go grab your dad and join me? I think Mosspounce could help a lot."

"Is something wrong with Yarrowclaw?" Wolfgaze asked, romantic embarassment fading.

"Just get your dad," Anchovystrike asked. Wolfgaze nodded and surged into the partying cats, calling for Mosspounce. Anchovystrike, meanwhile, headed for Sandhollow. The cream-tinted tom splashed through the water with Slushtrail and Tallowheart, the three of them squealing like kits. If Currentsmoke hadn't sounded so serious, Anchovystrike would have joined them in their fun.

"Sandhollow," Anchovystrike called. Sandhollow paused n his frolicking, just as Tallowheart's tail sent a wave of salt water into his face. Slushtrail and Tallowheart laughed as Sandhollow rubbed his eyes, trying to get the salt out.

"You two are so ridiculous," Sandhollow chuckled, stumbling out of the water. He shook out his pelt, spraying Anchovystrike. His fur stuck out like thorns. "Hi, Anchovystrike."

"Sandhollow, you've grown close to my sister since you graduated, haven't you?" Anchovystrike asked. "I've seen you spend time with her." Sandhollow's face darkened.

"Something's happened to her, hasn't it?" Sandhollow said.

"I don't know," Anchovystrike admitted as Slushtrail and Tallowheart waded onto the beach, the fun of the moment dead. "I want to make sure nothing does. We need to find her. Can you come with me?"

"Of course," Sandhollow huffed, giving himself a few quick licks to smooth his pelt.

"I should come too," Slushtrail said, sliding up to her fellow mediator.

"I think our little patrol is getting crowded, Slushtrail," Anchovystrike chuckled awkwardly.

"I can handle it, Slush," Sandhollow promised, side-eyeing Slushtrail.

"Is Yarrowclaw in danger or something?" Tallowheart asked.

"Or something, Tallowheart!" Anchovystrike snapped, making the young historian jump. "We just need to go, alright?" Tallowheart stepped back, nodding quickly and avoiding eye contact. Anchovystrike sighed, taking a deep breath. He would have time to apologize later. "Over here, Sandhollow." Sandhollow was at Anchovystrike's side with just a flick of the latter's tail. Slushtrail and Tallowheart watched on as the two toms jogged over to Weevilsight, Wolfgaze, and Mosspounce.

"What exactly is the problem here?" Mosspounce huffed as Anchovystrike and Sandhollow joined the patrol.

"We don't know all the details," Weevilsight sighed, her focused, glowing gaze resting on each Clanmate. "I think we've all noticed Yarrowclaw has had… a lot of busy days, lately. We're worried it's more than that. Currentsmoke thinks she's in danger, and I'm inclined to believe him."

"I'm not trying to undermine your worry, really," Mosspounce said, awkwardness twitching through his whiskers, "but as the oldest cat here, and I really hate that that's true, I should point out the obvious. Yarrowclaw's an adult. She's allowed to leave the party. Are you sure we need to track her down?"

"Currentsmoke knows cats," Anchovystrike huffed. "He's one of the most caring cats I know. He knows when something's wrong. He saw Yarrowclaw wasn't here and panicked. If he thinks we need to find her, we should find her."

"Wanted to make sure you were serious," Mosspounce assured him. "Now the other question… do we have any idea where she might be?"

"Let's check camp first," Wolfgaze suggested, jogging across the sand. "It might be that simple!" The patrol ran after Wolfgaze, sand sticking to their half-wet paws. They left behind the music and laughter of their Clan and ran toward their shipwreck home.

Carnationspeckle lounged at the entrance of camp, absent-minded in her guard duty, dozing off in the warm, almost blistering sun. She snapped to attention as the patrol hurried up to her, however.

"Are you all alright?" Carnationspeckle asked. "You look so serious. Did something happen?"

"We're alright, Carnationspeckle," Sandhollow promised, panting, "but is Yarrowclaw in camp? Did you see her?"

"She's not in camp," Carnationspeckle said, shaking her head, "but I did see her! She headed south a short time ago. Is she alright?"

"Keep your ears perked for us, would you Carnationspeckle?" Anchovystrike asked, paws carrying him to the shoreline. Weevilsight and Wolfgaze scrambled behind him.

"Anchovystrike, wait!" Carnationspeckle yowled, but Anchovystrike's focus was elsewhere.

Anchovystrike breathed deep as the lips of a heavy wave stretched to meet his paws. The salt stung his nose and blinded him to even the smell of Weevilsight beside him. Anchovystrike's chest tightened. Call it instinct, call it brotherly intuition, call it the power of the All-Seeing for all he cared, Anchovystrike's whole body screamed at him to find Yarrowclaw, right now.

"I smell her!" Wolfgaze cried, tail shooting up. She sniffed the sand, whiskers pooling Yarrowclaw's scent together and into a narrative in Wolfgaze's mind. The patrol gathered around her. The heat molded into Anchovystrike's anxiety, making his fur burn. "Carnationspeckle is right, she went south!"

"That's my kit," Mosspounce cheered, sniffing. "I got the scent too. We'll find her together. This way, you three!" Wolfgaze and Mosspounce ran along the sand and grass, hopping from scent bubble to scent bubble. Anchovystike, Weevilsight, and Sandhollow matched their pace.

Yarrowclaw's trail drifted from the cool shoreline into the speckled hills. There was no banter in this patrol, no breaks. Every cat stayed focused on the task ahead. They pushed through the mental haze of sunhigh and kept moving. They would find her. She hadn't gotten far. They just had to keep going. She'd be fine. She'd be fine.

"Anchovystrike." Sandhollow ran alongside Anchovystrike, who suddenly found his chest too tight and the air barely breaching his lungs. "Breathe. Don't pass out on us." Breathe. Yes, breathe. Anchovystrike forced the air into him like a drowning cat.

They heard Yarrowclaw before they saw her.

"I can hear them! I can hear the horses, Robin, thundering down and down and down the path, down the path to save him! Thundering hooves strike the ground, it's lightning, lightning in the sky, or is that my heart? Is my heart in their hooves? Smashed under their hooves? Robinkit, they're coming! They're coming! Strike me! Hit me! His pain to my pain, my pain to his, StarClan's will be done, but not with this, no no, not with Current! You can't take him, Robinkit! Not yet! And you're never taking me! Never!"

Yarrowclaw paced in the center of the horse-path. Her tail thrashed wildly, as though she was in the middle of a battle. She kicked up dust like a kit playing in the sand. She screeched down the path, good eye shifting in and out of focus. Anchovystrike could not hear any horses.

"Yarrowclaw, get off the horse-path," Mosspounce barked, charging toward the border. Anchovystrike, Weevilsight, Wolfgaze, and

"I'll be fine!" Yarrowclaw shrieked. Anchovystrike never heard such laughter in his sister's voice before. "It's for Current! It's for Current! It's my destiny, it's my purpose! They're almost here! Here, here, I hear them, they're deafening, they're here to hear me, they're here for me!" Yarrowclaw's laughter suffocated Anchovystrike. Yarrowclaw coughed, choking on her escasty. Her laughter dissolved into a death wail, the same frenzied expression stuck on her face. "Stop it! Stop the noise! Trample me already! Break it! Break my jaw! Don't take him! Don't take him!" Yarrowclaw stumbled, jaw smacking into the dry path.

"Freeze her!" Weevilsight wailed with a heartbreak Anchovystrike hadn't heard since that fateful day in the nursery. "Wolfgaze!"

At the same time, Yarrowclaw cried, pushing herself up, "I can't keep waiting! I have to take it from him!" Yarrowclaw wrenched her head back.

Suddenly, the world stood still. Yarrowclaw's guttural cries stopped with the blink of an eye. The wind stirred her dusty fur. Her sightless eye stared at Anchovystrike as the patrol finally reached the horse-path. Wolfgaze, too, was frozen, but her eyes, focused and terrified, stayed stuck on Yarrowclaw.

"Don't break my line of sight," Wolfgaze gulped as Anchovystrike and Sandhollow approached Yarrowclaw's supernaturally frozen form. "We've never moved someone when they're frozen, I don't know if we can."

"Just stop her," Weevilsight begged, hiding her face in her father's shoulder. "I hate this vision. Don't let it happen." Anchovystrike knew better than to pry into Weevilsight's darkest visions. He carefully walked behind Yarrowclaw and tucked himself under her head. With his head right up to Yarrowclaw's pelt, Anchovystrike could truly see Wolfgaze's power in action. There was a faint shimmering line surrounding Yarrowclaw's body. Anchovystrike could only see it if he focused, but the lines rippled like water and pressed against Yarrowclaw.

"We'll unfreeze her and get her off the horse-path," Sandhollow said, jaws close to Yarrowclaw's scruff. "Mosspounce, be ready to help us. I don't think she's going to go quietly." Wolfgaze swallowed hard.

As soon as Wolfgaze blinked, Yarrowclaw came to life. She swung her head down hard, but rather than hitting the hoof-hardened horse-path, her muzzle smacked into Anchovystrike's shoulder.

"No!" Yarrowclaw cried as Sandhollow grabbed her scruff. "No no no! He'll die! I'm the only one, I'm the only one that can save him, I'm the only one! I won't be hurt! I can't be hurt! No!" Sandhollow and Anchovystrike dragged Yarrowclaw off the horse-path. Yarrowclaw swung her claws at Anchovystrike's muzzle. She caught her brother's lip, sending a stream of blood trickling into Anchovystrike's mouth. Anchovystrike hissed and shoved Yarrowclaw onto the grass lining the horse-path. Mosspounce left his terrified daughter's side and stood on Yarrowclaw's shoulders. Anchovystrike stood on her flank.

"Yarrowclaw, can you hear me?" Sandhollow asked softly, crouching at the trapped molly's level. "Shh, you're safe, I promise."

"No, I have to go," Yarrowclaw cried, face as torn as the day she saw Robinkit and Harvest's bodies cooling in the nursery. "There's too much to do, I can't stay here, I have to go."

"There's nothing you need to do except breathe," Sandhollow assured her. "Weevilsight is going to find some herbs to calm your mind. It seems like there's a lot going on in there, am I right?"

"Currentsmoke's going to die unless I transfer his wounds to me," Yarrowclaw wailed. Her pinned claws dug up tufts of grass.

"Yarrowclaw, that kind of ritual doesn't exist," Mosspounce snapped. Yarrowclaw's chest heaved, ragged breaths morphing into sobs. "You have to snap out of it."

"Mosspounce, with all due respect," Sandhollow hissed quietly, suddenly at the caretaker's ear, "stop talking. Let the tom with mediator training use his training, alright?"

"How do we calm her down?" Mosspounce asked. Yarrowclaw kicked at Anchovystrike, but Anchovystrike laid on her hind legs. All Yarrowclaw could do was flex her claws helplessly.

"There's a patch of tall lettuce that loves to sprout near here," Weevilsight stammered. "That should help. I, I'll be right back!" Weevilsight scurried over the hills and through the trees, unable to stop her pelt from bristling.

Wolfgaze silently took over for Anchovystrike as Sandhollow whispered to Yarrowclaw, rubbing on the edges of her delusions. Anchovystrike laid beside Yarrowclaw rather than on top of her. Yet as he rested his head, something glimmered in the top of his vision.

Anchovystrike hadn't seen this strange sight since that moment in Downstar's den, coping with the sudden loss of his mother and brother. Soft streams of light flowed around Yarrowclaw and her captors like the glistening pawsteps of StarClan. Even against the shine of the midday sun, the light couldn't blind Anchovystrike. It pulled the weight out of his chest. Yarrowclaw sobbed deep, her whole body tensing. Then, she relaxed, deflating into her own unknowable misery.

"If that's you, Robinkit," Anchovystrike whispered, just quiet enough for him to hear, "thank you. And I'm sorry."

The ethereal light slithered around Yarrowclaw and dove sharply. It weaved into the back of the brown molly's head like a snake sliding into its hole. As it entered Yarrowclaw's body, the warrior sheathed her claws. Blades of grass stuck up between her toes. Sandhollow groomed Yarrowclaw's cheeks as Yarrowclaw sobbed and muttered a string of nonsense.

Anchovystrike wouldn't claim to understand what was wrong, or what needed to be done. But what he could do was groom his sister's fur and murmur gentle assurances.

(Anchovystrike: 19, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Weevilsight: 19, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Currentsmoke: 19, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Ravenweaver: 19, female, artisan, nervous, den builder, very clever)

(Wolfgaze: 19, female, codekeeper, thoughful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)

(Billowhaze: 19, male, historian, loyal, good kit-sitter)

(Sandhollow: 15, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Slushtrail: 20, female, mediator, wise, clever, talented weaver)

(Tallowheart: 20, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

(Mosspounce: 45, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Carnationspeckle: 86, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Yarrowclaw: 19, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

[Image ID: Anchovystrike says to Sandhollow and Spikecrash "I’ve dealt with a lot for a cat my age. This is nothing in comparison. Yarrowclaw’s still the cocky, rough-as-salt molly I know. She’s still the cat I have fun with. She’s just got a few extra traits now." Yarrowclaw sits in the back. Under her, it reads + PERMANENT CONDITION: DAY-NIGHT CYCLING.]

---

"So Yarrowclaw's crazy now?" Cobaltchaser gulped, settling deeper into her nest.

"Cobaltchaser!" Lightningrunner whined, sneering. "You can't call your Clanmates crazy!"

"That's what she sounds like," Cobaltchaser pointed out. "I'm not insulting her. Some cats are crazy. They can't control it."

"Maybe we don't call anyone crazy," Anchovystrike sighed, cheek on the edge of his nest.

By the time Anchovystrike and his patrol came back to camp with Yarrowclaw, nearly half the Clan had left the celebration at the beach, wondering just what they were up to. Weevilsight's tall lettuce helped soothe Yarrowclaw, so she didn't enter camp yowling and crying, but everyone could tell she was in a fragile state. Paleseed and Spikecrash kept the Clan back until Sandhollow and Weevilsight settled Yarrowclaw in the medicine den. Anchovystrike had Mosspounce and Lemmy to thank afterward; the whole Clan was about to pry Anchovystrike for an explanation, but the moment Mosspounce spoke with his mate, Lemmy pushed everyone away, reminding them the value of a cat's privacy. That didn't mean cats like Cobaltchaser and Lightningrunner didn't try to ask later, as the entire camp relaxed after the party and settled down within the warm summer night.

"He's her brother, mouse-brain," Lightningrunner huffed. "He doesn't have to tell us the whole story. Yarrowclaw's going through a hard enough time without us getting in her business."

"At least one of you gets it," Anchovystrike said, getting up. "I think storytime is over, anyway." Anchovystrike crept through the maze of nests that made up the warrior's den. Most cats were already in their nests, getting ready to sleep. Anchovystrike tried not to look at Yarrowclaw's empty nest. He failed.

Outside the den, only a few cats remained out. Downstar and Oilstripe spoke with Spikecrash by the Shiprock while Billowhaze sat with Currentsmoke and Estherfern outside the medicine den. Wolfgaze and Mosspounce shared tongues outside the warrior's den and perked up when Anchovystrike stepped out.

"How are you feeling?" Wolfgaze asked softly.

"Like my sister just tried to kill herself," Anchovystrike chuckled wetly. Mosspounce set his head against Anchovystrike's shoulder, pouring his sympathy into him. "The nap helped, at least. I'll have to thank Lemmy for giving me some room to breathe."

"If it helps," Wolfgaze sighed, licking Anchovystrike's ear, "I don't think she realized she could have died."

"Is Billowhaze mad I didn't bring him with us?" Anchovystrike asked.

"It's bad enough you had to see that," Mosspounce huffed. "If that was Trumpetspore on the horse-path, I wouldn't have been able to do anything. Billowhaze should be grateful he wasn't there."

"He understood after I talked to him," Wolfgaze said. "Just be with your brothers, Anchovystrike. I can move my nest closer to you tonight, if you want."

"That would help," Anchovystrike sighed, touching noses with Wolfgaze. "I can't thank you enough for your help."

"Yarrowclaw's our friend too," Mosspounce purred, setting his tail on Anchovystrike's back. "We would have helped regardless. Good luck tonight." With that, Mosspounce and Wolfgaze entered the warrior's den, leaving Anchovystrike to face his family head-on.

Currentsmoke spotted Anchovystrike first. He raised his head from his curled position and batted Billowhaze's leg.

"I don't like that I had to hear about Yarrowclaw from someone else, Anchovystrike," Billowhaze huffed. Anchovystrike approached with his head low.

"He sa'ed her," Currentsmoke sighed as Estherfern put her nose in his ear. "Sat's enough."

"All this stress brought Currentsmoke's fever back," Estherfern muttered, shaking her head.

"Oh, so now you're interested in medicine?" Anchovystrike hummed, daring to raise his head.

"I've put my pride aside," Estherfern scoffed. "That's not what you should be focusing on tonight." Billowhaze sighed and cleared space for Anchovystrike to sit between him and Currentsmoke.

"Sandhollow told us that since Yarrowclaw isn't fully of sound mind," Billowhaze sighed, "he's going to keep us informed on Yarrowclaw and what she needs going forward." Anchovystrike nodded softly. He glanced into the medicine den. He could just hear Sandhollow inside, speaking softly with Yarrowclaw. When Sandhollow's blue eyes turned toward him, Anchovystrike quickly looked away. Moments later, Sandhollow stepped outside.

"Spikecrash?" he called softly. Spikecrash turned from her conversation with Downstar and Oilstripe. She bade the leader and deputy farewell and joined her former apprentice beside the three brothers.

"Estherfern," Spikecrash cooed, "we can watch over Currentsmoke if you'd like to nest for the night."

"Here's to a quiet night," Estherfern hummed, nodding to the mediators. She nodded to each of the three toms beside her before she slipped around Sandhollow and into the medicine den. Sandhollow and Spikecrash sat with their backs to the medicine den, as though shielding Anchovystrike and his brothers from what laid within.

"First things first," Sandhollow explained, "Yarrowclaw's safe and resting. She probably won't sleep tonight with her mania, but she'll at least stay in the medicine den. Even if she doesn't plan on staying, Spikecrash has asked for a caretaker to watch her through the night." Spikecrash nodded along with her apprentice's assessment.

"Mania, what is that?" Anchovystrike asked.

"You could consider it the opposite of depression," Spikecrash sighed. "Rather than feeling low, your emotions are elevated. Everything is more vibrant, more stimulating, your joy and rage and panic are stronger than ever before. We believe these periods of activity Yarrowclaw's had over the last few moons have been manic episodes. When a cat goes through these periods of mania, their emotions crash afterward into depression. We call it day-night cycling. Mania is like the day, bright and burning, while the depression afterward is like the night, gloomy and dark."

"Yarrowclaw is depressed too?" Billowhaze moaned.

"It's not the same for everyone," Sandhollow assured him, shifting a paw closer. "From what we've been able to gather about Yarrowclaw's behavior, she may focus more on the 'day' side of this cycling than the 'night' side."

"What should we know?" Anchovystrike asked. "To keep her safe, I mean."

"For now?" Sandhollow sighed. "Just show her support. We can talk through the specifics another time. This is a lot to process. It's been a long day. You should all rest."

"Honestly, Sandhollow?" Anchovystrike chuckled, focusing on the glow of the medicine den. "I’ve dealt with a lot for a cat my age. This is nothing in comparison. Yarrowclaw’s still the cocky, rough-as-salt molly I know. She’s still the cat I have fun with. She’s just got a few extra traits now. Right?"

"Exactly," Spikecrash purred.

"We still want to see her though," Billowhaze said. "You said she's awake."

"She isn't utterly delusional anymore," Sandhollow groaned, ears tilting back, "but she isn't recovered."

"Currentsmoke's sleeping in the medicine den, he'll get to see her," Billowhaze pointed out, his paw almost smacking Currentsmoke. "Just let us in for a little bit."

"It's best not to fight them on this, Sandhollow," Spikecrash cautioned, rubbing her tail along Sandhollow's back. "You three can see her, but be quiet and don't take long. The clerics are trying to sleep, and Wolverineheart has an ear infection they're monitoring." Billowhaze helped Currentsmoke to his paws. Anchovystrike touched noses with the mediators, but his mind was already in the medicine den. He led his brothers into the shadows of the ancient wood.

Potterypool sat guard beside Yarrowclaw as Wolverineheart and the clerics settled down to nest. Although Yarrowclaw's eyes drooped, she stayed alert, scratching at the moss in her nest. Someone groomed the dust and snarls out of her pelt and lined her nest with lavender. Billowhaze escorted Currentsmoke into his nest beside Yarrowclaw. Currentsmoke's paw hooked the edge of Yarrowclaw's nest as he stared at his sister. Anchovystrike loafed in front of Yarrowclaw, with Billowhaze sitting beside him.

"Potterypool won't let me leave," Yarrowclaw muttered, glaring at her guard.

"Do you want me to disobey Sandhollow?" Potterypool sighed, giving her charge nary a side-eye. "I'm not going on trial for letting something happen to you."

"You really scared me, Yarrowclaw," Anchovystrike whispered, paws itching underneath him.

"I was going to cure Currentsmoke… I think," Yarrowclaw sighed. She rubbed her face, groaning, "I don't really remember all of it. There were horses… or maybe that was my heart. I feel like I'm the middle of a battlefield."

"You were trying to break your jaw," Anchovystrike muttered. Some of the day's panic crawled back up his throat. "You were talking to Robinkit."

"I didn't actually see him," Yarrowclaw mumbled, putting her head on the nest's edge. "I was so sure he was there, though. Ugh, I just want to hunt! I feel like I'm on fire. I don't like talking this much, I'm not saying anything. But I can't move, so I have to, I have to keep talking so I don't burn away, everything's going too fast. I feel like I'm dying. I don't think I can die."

"You can die, Yarrowclaw," Billowhaze huffed. "You don't have powers, you're not a cleric, you can't perform any rituals. You're just you."

"I want it to stop," Yarrowclaw gulped. "I want to rest, but I'm on fire. I want to bite my pelt off, get it out, but Potterypool stops me."

"And she should, you know," Anchovystrike said. He scooted closer to Yarrowclaw.

"I do," Yarrowclaw whined. "I do know, somewhere. I'm dying. I want it to stop. I want to fix something, anything. Sandhollow wants me to sleep, and I want to sleep so badly, but I can't. Everyone's dying, and I can't stop it." Yarrowclaw's unsheathed claws hooked around her muzzle. Billowhaze moved them off. Currentsmoke stretched until his paw rested on top of Yarrowclaw's.

"I'll 'e here for yuh," Currentsmoke said, trying to purr. "I'll fight with yuh."

"We all will," Anchovystrike promised. He set his nose on Yarrowclaw's head and prayed to Robinkit, to Harvest, to any StarClan soul who wandered around him, that his sister realized that.

(Cobaltchaser: 14, female, codekeeper, righteous, good cook, prey cleaner)

(Lightningrunner: 14, female, historian, nervous, explorer, helpful insight)

(Anchovystrike: 19, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Wolfgaze: 19, female, codekeeper, thoughful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)

(Mosspounce: 45, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Billowhaze: 19, male, historian, loyal, good kit-sitter)

(Currentsmoke: 19, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Estherfern: 118, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Sandhollow: 15, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Spikecrash: 59, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Potterypool: 19, female, caretaker, sneaky, great singer)

(Yarrowclaw: 19, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

Considering her great teaching skills, Moontide decides to join Thundergale and Shrewpaw as a teacher, further validating Thundergale's ambitious experiment.

[Image ID: Shrewpaw and Thundergale proudly watch Moontide.]

(Moontide: 19, female, teacher, playful, excellent teacher)

(Thundergale: 16, female, teacher, adventurous, good hunter, great speaker)

(Shrewpaw: 8, male, teacher apprentice, competitive, never sits still)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 74

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

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

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

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

(Moon 74, Part 2)

Estherfern’s kits become apprentices.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,” Thunderpaw chirped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Estherfern would not stand for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anchovypaw gets lost on patrol.

[Image ID: Anchovypaw is lost.]

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But how did it get there in the first place?

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

Estherfern senses a presence on patrol.

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

---

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

So why were her prayers unanswered now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 80

Honeybuzz recovers in time to give Weevilsight her name. However, while the other clerics commune with StarClan and Weevilsight sits her vigil outside, she's attacked. While she can't identify the attackers, she reeks of SlugClan.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Estherfern gather around Weevilsight. Weevilsight yowls, "Finally!" Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! WEEVILPAW → WEEVILSIGHT, CURIOUS ABOUT STARCLAN → DEEP STARCLAN BOND, + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL. Under Honeybuzz, it says - CONDITION: TORN EAR.]

(Weevilsight: 15, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Troutpool: 41, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Honeybuzz: 28, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Estherfern: 114, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

RippleClan welcomes a new batch of graduates: Yellowburst, Stormjump, Thundergale, Boughfur, and Wolverineheart. When her vigil is through, Thundergale has a strange proposition.

[Image ID: Yellowburst, Stormjump, Thundergale, Boughfur, and Wolverineheart stand together, the latter three sporting adult sprites. Under Yellowburst, it says LEVEL UP! YELLOWPAW → YELLOWBURST, COLD → ADVENTUROUS, QUICK TO MAKE PEACE → GOOD MEDIATOR. Under Stormjump, it says LEVEL UP! STORMPAW → STORMJUMP, LOVES TO EAT → INCREDIBLE COOK. Under Thundergale, it reads LEVEL UP! THUNDERPAW → THUNDERGALE, MOSS-BALL HUNTER → GREAT HUNTER, + NEW SKILL: GOOD SPEAKER. Under Boughfur, it says LEVEL UP! BOUGHPAW → BOUGHFUR, CONSTANTLY CLIMBING → GOOD CLIMBER. Under Wolverineheart, it says LEVEL UP! WOLVERINEPAW → WOLVERINEHEART, COMPASSIONATE → TROUBLESOME, ALWAYS ASKING QUESTIONS → STUDENT OF SCIENCE.]

---

Thundergale couldn't have imagined sitting vigil alone. She pitied cats who graduated without their littermates; how could they manage a night alone, roaming the edges of camp, pondering the enormity of adulthood with no escape? Of course, Thundergale was a bit privileged when it came to guarding camp. With her hearing loss, it simply wasn't safe for Thundergale to be alone on guard duty. There were too many things she could miss. But that just made nights like her vigil better, because she always had someone at her side.

Thundergale could tell that Yellowburst and Wolverineheart itched to speak as dawn showed its first beams. They padded around the camp entrance, a dozen thoughts trapped in their mouths. Stormjump stared at the sunrise, constantly glancing back to camp for someone to end the long night. Boughfur was the only one to sit tall and proper, opposite of Thundergale. Stormjump and Yellowburst had built a small fire outside camp to fight off the freezing snow around them, but now that fire was little more than smolders.

"Good morning!" Asterblaze and Waspdawn slipped out of camp, pelts fluffed and eyes bright. Yellowburst and Stormjump slunk to their father's side, bunting heads and purring. Thundergale peered into camp. Estherfern sat outside the medicine den, tail tucked over her paws, ear flicking gently in the soft winter breeze.

"Did you hear me, Thundergale?" Asterblaze asked. Thundergale turned back as what little heat remaining inside her went to her ears. Wolverineheart and Boughfur danced around one another, but Thundergale couldn't hear their celebration. "I said you're free to speak again."

"Thank you," Thundergale said. Her voice still echoed in her head, but it seemed quieter when it escaped.

"Let's find Sandpaw," Stormjump told her sister as the pair followed their father into camp. "I want to brag…" Her voice grew too far for Thundergale to hear the rest of the comment. Asterblaze followed the family through. Boughfur and Wolverineheart suddenly pulled themselves from their little party and pounced on Thundergale.

"No more flea duty!" Wolverineheart signed, almost too excited to sign clearly.

"Who do you think made our graduation presents?" Thundergale wondered. She paused mid-sign with a huge yawn.

"Let's go to sleep and find out," Boughfur quickly signed, her paw-work sloppy as she tried to head for the camp entrance. She led her sisters into RippleClan, licking her cold paws.

Oilstripe organized a sunrise patrol by the Shiprock with Lemmy, Cobaltpaw, and Puddlewhisper. Ravenweaver, Mitespark, and Clammask argued over the Clan's first meal beside the unlit stove while Paleseed did her best to mediate the disagreement. Yarrowclaw rushed past Thundergale, kicking up sandy snow in her rush to get out of camp. Trumpetspore and Mosspounce rekindled the bonfire in the center of camp, dulled after a peaceful night. Even though Thundergale eagerly ached to rest in her new nest, she soaked in the life of her Clan. There was so much to learn from every single cat, so many skills and tasks a cat could master, even outside of their chosen role. Joining RippleClan was the best decision Estherfern ever made.

Speaking of Estherfern, the brown molly waved her daughters toward her. Boughfur and Thundergale glanced at each other while Wolverineheart squinted to see what was happening. No one dared make the first move. Spikecrash's scent drifted closer. Thundergale spotted the scarred mediator first and drew her sisters' attention. Spikecrash strolled up to Thundergale's ear, stretching to reach her.

"I'll lead you over there," Spikecrash promised. She stepped back and winked at the trio. She strolled toward the medicine den, tail high. Thundergale took a deep breath. She, Wolverineheart, and Boughfur made their way toward their mother.

"I'm proud of you three," Estherfern said when the group approached. Spikecrash quickly stepped away, cheekily glancing at the new graduates as she left them. Estherfern paused before she continued. She slowly made the sign for "proud", flicking her ears toward Thundergale one by one. Truthfully, it was closer to the sign for "dig" with how slow she went, but Thundergale stayed quiet. She was trying, after all.

"Thanks, Mom," Wolverineheart sighed, signing while she spoke.

"How's Brightpaw?" Boughfur asked, glancing behind Estherfern.

"The dog spit and bird blood in the wound puts Brightpaw at risk for severe infection," Estherfern explained. "He's resting right now, but I'm watching him closely."

"You're watching him?" Wolverineheart scoffed. Even her signs looked dismissive. "I thought medicine wasn't a priestess's domain."

"It isn't," Estherfern admitted, shoulders shifting under her daughters' scrutiny. "It is a cleric's domain, however. If I'm a cleric by name, I should be able to help my fellow clerics in all aspects of their work."

"You know medicine now?" Thundergale asked. She focused on the sign for "medicine"; a paw, raised slightly, and spinning over the other paw like a cleric grinding herbs.

"I've asked Weevilsight to help me," Estherfern admitted. "Unlike some cats, she won't make my lessons more difficult than they should be."

"But why?" Boughfur asked. "Why learn now?"

"My pride got in the way of everything," Estherfern sighed, making the same sign as earlier with her ears. "No more. I've killed my old habits. I'm learning to be a new cat, and hopefully a new mother." Learning… Estherfern really was learning a lot. Medicine, Clan-sign, motherhood, listening; it was so much like the informal second apprenticeships many cats pursued after graduation. Yet Estherfern had to pursue a lot of this knowledge on her own, hoping others would give her a second chance and show an old molly a new way to see the world. What if there was someone in the Clan dedicated to helping cats like Estherfern?

"Wolverine," Thundergale asked slowly, glancing toward the leader's den. "Can you help me? I need some translation."

"Can it be after we sleep?" Wolverineheart asked, words lost in a yawn.

"Yes, I should let you rest," Estherfern coughed, stepping back into the medicine den. "We can speak more later. If you want."

"I think I do," Thundergale stammered, "but Wolverineheart, I really need a translator right now, before Downstar leaves camp."

"I'll help, Thunder," Boughfur chirped, adjusting her forget-me-not decor as Estherfern hid a purr and returned to the shadows of the medicine den. Thundergale nudged her dark brown sister toward the leader's den, skirting around Lemmy's departing patrol while Wolverineheart gleefully hurried to the warrior's den for a well-deserved rest.

"Downstar?" Thundergale called into the leader's den. The gray-muzzled leader rested in her nest, still grooming herself. Halibutdusk and Wildclaw lounged beside her, talking too quiet for Thundergale to hear.

"Thundergale, Boughfur," Downstar said, nodding to each new graduate. "I thought you would be settled in your nests by now. I told Asterblaze he could relieve you." Downstar's voice weakened at a few essential moments, but Boughfur was there to help. She instinctually moved in front of Thundergale and signed what Downstar said. She had become as skilled in Clan-sign as Thundergale.

"You did," Thundergale said, "but there's something I wanted to talk to you about before I lost my words." Downstar studied Thundergale for a moment. Then she muttered something to her kits, who touched noses with their mother and slipped around Thundergale. When they were gone, Downstar nodded for Thundergale to continue. Thundergale's throat tightened. She turned to Boughfur, her ideas trapped. Boughfur balanced on her hind legs, ready to support her sister with whatever she needed. Thundergale forced herself to breath.

"I enjoyed my training as a caretaker," Thundergale signed. Boughfur stammered for a moment, catching up with her sister's message. Downstar glanced between Thundergale and Boughfur as the former spoke and the latter explained. "Drumtooth was a good mentor. I like caring for others. In some ways, though, Mummichogleap was the more important mentor. Without his lessons, I would struggle to explain myself. I would lose my words because I couldn't hear them. I'd fail to speak to others because I could not hear them. I'm so grateful to Mummichogleap for teaching me Clan-sign. When I came back from my lessons, I began to realize, my favorite thing to do wasn't tending the fire or watching kits or any of the typical caretaker tasks. I loved teaching.

"I've taught all my littermates how to use Clan-sign, and my mother is starting to learn as well. Stormjump, Yellowburst, and Sandpaw wanted to learn as well. Drumtooth is able to sign the most important words, and I've had a few cats ask me for the signs of specific phrases. I loved all of that. I want to do that for the rest of my life.

"Downstar, I think the Clans are missing something. Historians remember our history and study the world. Warriors learn the most complex battle techniques. Codekeepers memorize every detail of the code. But it all rests on the mentor to teach their apprentice those skills. If the apprentice wants to learn other skills, they have to ask for favors. They have to hope someone will let them study in a second apprenticeship. What if we made learning easier? What if cats could come to a teacher whenever they wanted to learn a new skill? Mentors could get help for their apprentices without insecurity. Kits could learn basic skills as they decide on their futures. Downstar, I don't want to be a caretaker. I want to be a teacher."

"Are you suggesting an entirely new position in the Clan?" Downstar finally asked after Boughfur finished translating.

"Teachers could learn a bit about every position," Thundergale explained. "I would know enough about most subjects to assist an apprentice during their training. I can learn the best ways to teach cats, young and old, so that anyone who wants to learn has someone to talk to. I want to teach cats more Clan-sign, but I also want to teach codekeepers about fire safety. I want to teach artistic warriors about making paint. I want to teach antsy artisans better hunting skills. I want the Clans to know anything they want to know."

"What you're suggesting is a major change to RippleClan's lifestyle," Downstar pointed out. "You may step on more than a few mentors' paws."

"I think they'll like the help," Thundergale said aloud, confidence restored. "I have ideas, Downstar. Can I try?" Downstar tappd her paw on the edge of her nest. Her whiskers twitched, deep in thought. Thundergale couldn't help but crouch as her leader decided her fate.

"Get some rest," Downstar finally said. "We can discuss the details of this… teacher position once you've slept."

"Thank you, Downstar!" Thundergale gasped, almost flying off the ground.

"I still want you to fulfill your caretaker duties while we see if this new role is viable," Downstar warned, "but RippleClan is the Clan of new opportunities. I can tell you're earnest. Good luck, Thundergale. Now, both of you, go to your nests. Ravenweaver made you both a down-stuffed head rest." Boughfur and Thundergale both dipped their heads to the tortoiseshell leader. Boughfur brushed against Thundergale and nudged her toward the warrior's den. Thundergale took the lead. She wouldn't be surprised if she couldn't sleep.

Thundergale was going to make history!

(Thundergale: 12, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)

(Yellowburst: 11, female, caretaker, adventurous, good mediator)

(Wolverineheart: 12, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Stormjump: 11, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Boughfur: 12, female, historian, righteous, good climber)

(Asterblaze: 27, male, caretaker, thoughtful, constantly fiddling with tools)

(Waspdawn: 46, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Estherfern: 114, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Spikecrash: 55, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Downstar: 139, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

Yellowburst gets yellowcough, making the clerics wonder if it is an omen. Meanwhile, Shrewkit tells Ravenweaver to make a move on Brightpaw.

[Image ID: Yellowburst stands in the back, with + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH under her. Brightpaw and Venturedapple chat to the side. Brightpaw now has an adult sprite. Shrewkit says to Ravenweaver, "Talk to him!"]

(Yellowburst: 11, female, caretaker, adventurous, good mediator)

(Ravenweaver: 15, female, artisan, den builder, very clever)

(Shrewkit: 4, male, kit, bossy, never sits still)

(Brightpaw: 12, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Venturedapple: 68, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

Currentsmoke falls through melting ice on the Great Northern River and breaks his jaw.

[Image ID: Yarrowclaw, Anchovystrike, Moontide, and Leathermask watch Currentsmoke in the distance, who has + CONDITION: BROKEN JAW under him. Yarrowclaw yowls, "Current!"]

---

Yarrowclaw had been running herself into the ground over the last quarter moon. Anchovystrike hardly saw his sister in the warrior's den, or even in camp. She always seemed to be out on some patrol, like she was the only warrior in the Clan. Anchovystrike hadn't seen Yarrowclaw sharing tongues or rest at sunhigh. Maybe Yarrowclaw was simply worried about Weevilsight and Yellowburst. Maybe she didn't know her limits now that she was a warrior. Whatever it was, Anchovystrike needed to remind his sister how to breathe, and a trip to the river seemed like the best solution.

Anchovystrike led the way, bounding through the snow like a kit. Yarrowclaw kept pace with him in a swift jog. Currentsmoke, Leathermask, and Moontide trailed behind, chatting about nothing at all. No matter where Anchovystrike looked, he couldn't see a single sliver of ichor. The land was finally pure. That alone was reason to head out!

"Maybe we can build a snowcat, like when we were kits!" Anchovystrike suggested, nudging his sister.

"We need to build a fire first," Yarrowclaw chirped. "With how long you want to spend by the river, we need to keep warm. If we have a fire, we can fish and not worry about freezing."

"Or we can have fun," Moontide laughed, hurrying to Yarrowclaw's bad side. "This isn't a patrol, Yarrow! It's a day by the river. I want to go swimming!"

"But Yarrowclaw is right," Leathermask pointed out. "We do need a fire if we want to go into the water in this weather. Even our long fur isn't going to keep us warm enough, Moontide."

"Exactly," Yarrowclaw said, tail high. "I'll find dry sticks. We will have fun, but we'll also help the Clan, check the border, find some fish, socialize…" Yarrowclaw shook out her pelt and picked up speed. "Come on!" Anchovystrike and Moontide shot each other a cocky glance, but it was Currentsmoke who raced past them first, laughing.

"Last one to the river is crowfood!" he laughed. Anchovystrike eagerly took up the challenge. His paws skidded through the snow as he picked up momentum. Moontide howled, copying her friends.

The water along the sides of the river was completely frozen. The ice glistened and burned in the sun. Rocks jutted through the ice, forever sturdy against the passing seasons. Water still flowed through the heart of the river, icy cold and skittering across the surface-level stones.

A black and white molly paced along the ice, her clawed-out eye facing the Clan cats. Crow feathers lined her pelt. Yet as she turned in her pacing, Anchovystrike realized they weren't just decor, not in his eyes. The feathers seemed to grow out of the molly's pelt as naturally as fur. A few feathers constantly drifted off and fluttered onto the snow, stark black against white. Yet when Anchovystrike blinked, those fallen feathers would vanish. What supernatural sign was this? An old memory stirred inside him of the nursery, gathered around Lemmy as she explained the origins of her odd name and just where she came from. Those feathers meant something.

"Hello?" Anchovystrike called, trotting to a stop. Yarrowclaw and Currentsmoke stared at the stranger silently, whiskers flicking in curiosity. Leathermask's fur prickled as he slid in beside Anchovystrike. Moontide stumbled past Anchovystrike, taking a moment to recognize the outsider. The black and white molly lifted her head, staring at Anchovystrike.

"RippleClan?" she called. She sat at the river's edge, feathery tail covering her downy paws. She seemed half-bird when she faced the Clan cats head-on.

"We're RippleClan, yes," Anchovystrike said, approaching the riverside. "Those feathers… are you the Witch Hunter General?"

"I am," the molly said, dipping her head, "but not the one you know. My name is Pearl. Our old General, Madeline, has passed to the Other Side. I have taken command of the Witch Hunters. I seek to honor the peace between our colonies and introduce myself as a new leader to your Clans, as a sign of friendship."

"Well, thank you!" Currentsmoke chirped. "It's nice to meet you, Pearl. I'm Currentsmoke. Yarrowclaw and I met one of your Witch Hunters a while ago! He joined RippleClan. His name used to be Venture, did you know him?"

"I was wondering where he ran off to," Pearl hummed, gently cocking her head. "Did he tell you while he left the settlement?"

"He didn't go into specifics," Currentsmoke said. Yarrowclaw left the riverside and sniffed around the trees for suitable fire materials. "He just said he wanted to leave."

"He had a good reason to," Pearl admitted. "I'm afraid after Madeline's passing, Achilles and I argued about the future of the Witch Hunters. My ascension to Witch Hunter General was not clean. I can't say either of us were fair or just, and Venture was one of a few who left the settlement because of that. I hope RippleClan is a fairer place for him to live."

"Why don't we take you to Downstar?" Currentsmoke suggested. He stepped onto the snow-covered ice of the Great Northern River. "If you want to discuss better relations, she would be the cat to talk to!" The snow crunched under Currentsmoke's weight. He watched the flowing water closely, eyeing the thickness of the ice. He playfully wiggled his flank as he gauged how far he had to jump.

"Currentsmoke, don't show off," Moontide chuckled. Currentsmoke tensed and crouched against the ice and snow. His claws snapped onto the ice. He jumped over the open water, shoving a clump of snow into the current. His front paws smacked onto the ice, the snow providing the needed friction. His back paws, however, landed on the corner of the ice. A loud crack bounced through the trees.

"Current!" Yarrowclaw yowled, shoving past her Clanmates. The ice broke away from the shore. Currentsmoke's flank tumbled into the flowing water. The ice shard flipped and smacked Currentsmoke hard in the face. The ginger and white caretaker fell limp into the river. His body caught on the stepping stones. Blood seeped from his face and thundered toward the ocean.

"Careful, careful!" Leathermask yowled as Yarrowclaw raced toward the river. Pearl scrambled to Currentsmoke, grabbing his scruff. The Witch Hunter General lifted the tom's head out of the water. Anchovystrike's stomach dropped. A huge gash trailed over Currentsmoke's cheek and his teeth stabbed through his lips. His jaw dangled at an awkward angle.

Pearl and Yarrowclaw lifted Currentsmoke out of the freezing water and off the snowy ice. Anchovystrike shoved Pearl aside and took her place carrying his brother. Anchovystrike couldn't help but whimper at the smell of Currentsmoke's blood. Anchovystrike didn't care about the Witch Hunter General, he didn't care about Yarrowclaw's bad mood or the ruined plans.

He just had to make sure Currentsmoke didn't die.

(Anchovystrike: 15, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Yarrowclaw: 15, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

(Moontide: 15, female, warrior, playful, excellent teacher)

(Leathermask: 28, male, warrior, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

(Currentsmoke: 15, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Pearl: 61, female, Witch Hunter General, careful, explorer, clever)

[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]

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)