#Hiveclan: Journal

[goosehascats]

Moon 6: Part 1

CW: Emotional manipulation, verbal abuse, trauma response.

“Again, Mitepaw?” Duskstar said sternly, eyebrows furrowed. “Surely you can pounce on a field mouse.” 

“I’m sorry, Duskstar,” Mitepaw said with a steely, determined expression. She had been struggling with hunting today, but she couldn’t figure out why. She was tasting the air, she had her ears on the swivel, perfectly down wind, but her pounces were just… Off, simply put. And she was paying the price now with Duskstar’s temper. She sat, back straight, but looking just down at Duskstar’s chest rather than at his eyes. 

“Do you think sorry is enough, Mitepaw? Do you think sorry feeds mouths?” Duskstar’s tail lashed, though his body remained composed. His eyes were dark and his ears were turned back, and this was about as outwardly angry as Mitepaw had ever seen him. She continued to stare coldly at his chest, knowing that any flicker of emotion could warrant more berating. 

“No, Duskstar.” Mitepaw’s voice was even, but she felt hot shame burn under her fur. She was better than this. She knew she was. And she had to be, she was Duskstar’s apprentice. His patience was not for her because she needed to represent him as a leader. If she went back to camp empty handed, what would that say about him? 

“Then what is the problem.” Duskstar demanded. It wasn’t a question, it was a command to speak. To give him a reason. To give him ammunition for the next leg of his rant. 

“I…” Mitepaw started. She knew she should have a reason. She knew that something should be different about today than yesterday, or any other day she’s hunted. She knew she was so close to her warrior name but if she kept having days like today, she’d never get there. So she needed something to be different, to be wrong. “I’m sorry, Duskstar.” She said again, tilting her head to stare solidly at the ground. “I’ve been distracted. I… I believe I had a vision from Starclan last night.” 

The silence that fell between Duskstar and Mitepaw was thick and heavy. She felt her skin crawl over her, thousands of little legs pricking at her skin as she waited for him to believe her lie. Her legs began to just barely quiver when she felt a tail on her back. She looked back up to see Duskstar with an observant but neutral expression on his face, eyes lighter and eyebrows lifted. 

“What did you see?” He asked in a soft, soothing tone. It was better than him being angry at her, but Mitepaw felt herself grow nauseous at the thought of having to give him details for a fake vision. 

“Oh, well,” Mitepaw started, looking away from Duskstar. “It was… A dream that I had last night, and it was… Clear, but it was soft in the way dreams are. There was…” Mitepaw looked around the horizon, her eyes landing on an awkward hump in the ground. “A burrow. Perhaps a tunnel, or a den underground. Hollow dirt.” Her claws tore up the dirt underfoot. “And there were…” Fox-dung, what’s a Starclan-y sign?! Mitepaw thought to herself in a panic. “Um, stars. There were stars in the den underground. I was being chased, or maybe just followed. But I found some water, and… And then I woke up.” 

“You just… Woke up when you saw the water?” 

“Well, yes, but only… Only after I looked into the water.” 

“And did you see yourself?” 

“Um… No. No, I saw Honeystream there.” 

“Hmm,” Duskstar hummed in thought, getting up on his paws to walk a circle around Mitepaw. “I see… I can’t quite make sense of it on my own, I think, but Snaillake would be rather delighted to hear this I’m sure.” Duskstar was purring by the end of his sentence, in a much better mood now. “Really, Mitepaw, I wish you had mentioned this sooner, this is far more important than a few field mice.” 

“Yes, Duskstar. Sorry, Duskstar. I wasn’t… Sure if it was real or not, but I’ll make sure to bring up any more visions to you and Snaillake.” Mitepaw felt her chest tighten as if she was going to cry, or maybe vomit. If he finds out I’ve lied about this… She shook the thought from her head. She would keep up the lie. She had to. If the vision was vague enough, perhaps Snaillake wouldn’t be able to parse it either. And then maybe they could forget about it and Mitepaw could hunt better tomorrow. All that mattered now was that Duskstar wasn’t mad at her.

[goosehascats]

Moon 4: Part 1

CW: Brief mention of an implicitly abusive moment between two characters.

Mitepaw’s pelt rippled with nervous energy, claws peeking just out of their sheathes as she followed Duskstar out of camp. She knew it was only going to be a border patrol, and with no other Clans around, the possibility of actually having to fight was low. But Duskstar had been teaching her so much about takedowns and pins that she couldn’t help but dream about actually getting to use them. So, out of desperation for an excuse to fight, Mitepaw kept her ears on a swivel. Duskstar, without so much as a glance in her direction, seemed to pick up on this. 

“Anticipating something, Mitepaw?” He asked in a tone she couldn’t place. She walked directly behind him, only able to see the back of his head and ears, but she was certain his voice was lacking its normally smiley tone. He was in one of his moods again. Mitepaw knew well enough that it meant she shouldn’t push anything- Duskstar could be surprisingly intimidating one on one, something she wasn’t sure most of the rest of the Clan actually knew. 

“Nothing for certain, Duskstar,” she said in a neutral tone. “Just antsy, I suppose.” 

“Hm,” was his only response. She let out an even breath, thankful that she hadn’t set anything off in him. Border patrols seemed to put him on edge. It appeared as though these odd moods of his only seemed to really happen on them, at least, though he’d certainly gotten this way during one training session. She tried not to think about it much. It was early in her apprentice hood, and she had been careful to not push him like this since. 

The two continued to walk for some time, heading to the Northern border closest to the mountain range. Here there were more trees and shrubs. Not quite a forest, but not as open as the fields the Clan’s camp was in. The sun hadn’t quite reached its peak yet, but with how warm it was getting as they approached greenleaf, Mitepaw welcomed the scarce shade still. The two traveled awhile, silent as the land itself, marking their border as they went. 

They neared their final border marker for the North end when Duskstar’s body froze mid-step. He hunkered down, a paw still lifted, staring straight ahead with hair width pupils. Mitepaw immediately lowered herself down next to him, staring ahead as well, ears straining and mouth open, pleading with Starclan to give her a hint as to what he could’ve sensed. All she could smell was herbs, but a lot of them. Less like a bundle of a specific kind, but a wafting cloud of herb scent that reminded her of Snaillake. And beneath it, the smell of milk. She immediately looked to Duskstar, certain that he must also sense it. She had been yearning so strongly for a fight, but if there was a queen nearby… She wasn’t sure she could handle hurting a family. 

Duskstar only glanced at her, tilting his head forward once. The two set into a low stalk, staying downwind of the scent’s source. They seemed to be nearing a grouping of shrubs. Upon closer inspection as they neared it, it appeared as though the branches had been pulled closer, woven together with long grass to create a sort of den wall. 

Clever, Mitepaw thought to herself. She didn’t think it looked as cozy as the repurposed hare burrows, but it certainly looked better than sleeping on the fields, bare to the weather. Duskstar opened his mouth again, and Mitepaw did as well. They had to get a sense of how many cats were occupying the den before they could make their move, but the smell of herbs was making it difficult. Duskstar glanced at Mitepaw again, straightening up as though he had already determined stealth was no longer necessary. His tail flicked for Mitepaw to go ahead of him.

“Go around till you find the den entrance,” he murmured in her ear. “I’ll announce our presence, but they’ll be less likely to attack a younger cat.” 

Mitepaw nodded stiffly. She knew she could take some medicine cat in a fight, anyways. She began to walk forward, pelt prickling just a little at her unease at being conspicuous now. She tried to force it smooth, to keep the calm exterior that Duskstar had, but she couldn’t help but imagine all the ways someone might try to come at her- and all the ways she could put them on the ground for doing so. 

The entrance was on the North side, and as soon as they saw traces of flattened grass and exposed dirt, Duskstar piped up. “Hello?” He asked curiously, a light lilt in his voice. “Hello, we noticed-” A face appears in the entrance, white and a pale gingery color. The cat within looks weary, but too tired to fight. Mitepaw tries to not let her disappointment show, but allows relief to make her shoulders ease. “Ah-” Duskstar says. “I apologize if we’ve interrupted your rest.”

“Not at all,” the cat mewed, eyes looking between the two Clan cats with a mixture of pleading and hope. “The youngin’s have been keeping me up, I’m afraid.” 

“I suppose that is a tendency of theirs,” Duskstar joked lightly. “Are you aware you are on Clan territory?” 

The cat visibly deflates a little, ears drooping just slightly. “No, sorry. I’m afraid I didn’t realize cats lived out this far.” The cat looks back into the den, a few pitiful mews wailing from within. “I suppose we can relocate perhaps tomorrow… Or perhaps y’all could use a bit of wisdom?” The cat looked back at Duskstar and Mitepaw. “I don’t know much about tribe life or clan life or whatever it is y’all called it, but I do know quite a bit about plants and-” The cat looks back into the den briefly. “Well, if y’all keep me around I suppose your group will have some fresh blood as well.” 

Duskstar’s smile widens, gaining a genuineness that made Mitepaw smile as well. “That would be absolutely wonderful,” Duskstar said with a purr. “Why don’t we take you back to our camp then and get you settled?” 

The cat’s eyes lifted some. “Really? Well darn, and here I was thinking my luck had run out,” the stranger laughed in relief. “Let me get the youngin’s cleaned up a little and we’ll be right out. Name’s Norman, by the way.” Norman paused a moment, giving a sheepish look. “And uh, I know it might be a li’l unconventional, but I am a tom.” He glanced back at Duskstar and Mitepaw. “These are my kits, but I know who I am at heart.” 

Mitepaw opened her mouth, an eyebrow raised in mild confusion, but Duskstar’s tail brushed over her muzzle to hush her. “I don’t see how that’ll be a problem for us, Norman. You and your litter are plenty welcome, no matter your personal circumstances.” Mitepaw looked up at Duskstar, doubly confused now at his lack of questioning. Duskstar did not return her look, instead adding; “Why don’t you let Mitepaw and I help carry the little ones, and you can tell us how you ended up all the way out here on the way back?” 

“Hm,” Norman said, setting down two kits, appearing to be about a moon old. “I think that sounds alright.” He motioned to the two kits. “These here are Hoot and Rye.” Norman motioned to the cinnamon kit and fawn kit respectively. Mitepaw picked up Hoot and Duskstar Rye, and the three adult cats set off walking, Norman starting on a rather long story.

[goosehascats]

Moon 3: Part 1b

CW: App endangerment

Roachchirp could barely see anything in the deluge. Rain was coming down in sheets, and the grass beneath her was slick and muddy. Her fur clung to her muscular frame, her paws dark with mud. She was gasping slightly for breath, the cold rain shocking the air out of her lungs. 

A loud roll of thunder roared overhead, causing the she-cat to flinch. “LEECHPAW!” She shouted in the comparative quiet following. Her voice carried more emotion than it should’ve, both drenched in worry for the young cat, and fear for the weather. The rain stunted the sound from carrying, and she pressed forward against it. A shape, just through the gray of the rain, was standing completely still. 

“LEECHPAW?” Roachchirp cried again, gasping as another shiver of cold took over her spine. “COME HERE,” she tried to command her voice to sound enraged, demanding, but it came out a pathetic, begging sound. She rushed as much as she could through the rain to the shape, but it suddenly… Slipped. As if into the ground.

Roachchirp willed her legs to run again, already exhausted from running halfway across the territory as it was. She skidded to a stop just barely at the edge of water. Running water.

There’s no way, Roachchirp thought to herself. There’s no way I’m this far across the territory. Then, the shape. How it slipped. Panicked, Roachchirp began to run along the bloated river downstream, straining her eyes against the rain for a pelt in the water. “LEECHPAW!” Roachchirp cried again. She stopped trying to conceal her concern, now just begging shamelessly for her apprentice to appear on the bank.

Roachchirp almost screamed as she tripped over something in her path. 

She whirled, getting onto her feet, panting as she looked down at the ground. A slick red and white shape lay there, trembling. Leechpaw raised her head just a claw’s length off of the riverbank, eyes scared and begging Roachchirp for help without a word. Roachchirp dove for her apprentice, grabbing her by the scruff. She was nearly full grown, so she more dragged her than carried her, but she set about in the direction of the nearest shelter she knew- the fox dens. 

---

Roachchirp and Leechpaw had been missing a full day when they came back to camp. It was early evening, the sun just barely above the horizon, and Roachchirp came limping into camp, exhausted, Leechpaw leaning against her. Beeflick was the first to approach them. 

“Oh thank the stars you two are ok,” Beeflick said with calm but genuine concern. Roachchirp only gave her a dark look from under her brow. “What happened? Where have the two of you been?”

“Snaillake first,” Roachchirp snapped. “We’re obviously exhausted. You and Duskstar can interrogate us later.” Beeflick flinched at the sharpness of Roachchirp’s tone, but nodded. 

“Very well,” she said softly, getting on the other side of Leechpaw to support her. 

The three of them entered Snaillake’s den, where he sat sorting his herbs. He looked up as Roachchirp and Leechpaw entered, Beeflick hanging back at the entrance. Snaillake motioned to the two nests in the den, prepared for them already. 

“Hm,” he mused. “Looks like both of you nearly drowned this time.” He glanced up at Beeflick. 

“I’d recommend you keep the quips to a minimum, Snaillake,” Roachchirp warned. “After the night we had, I’m not in the mood for commentary.”

The red she-cat had nestled into her nest fine, front paws tucked under her chest. Leechpaw opted to push her nest closer to Roachchirp’s, pelts nearly touching. Snaillake observed the two of them, and then turned to Beeflick. “I will fetch you and Duskstar when I have my diagnosis.”

Beeflick ducked her head, and turned to leave. Snaillake turned back to the two she-cats, and set about poking and prodding them.

---

“So,” Duskstar asked calmly, smiling his usual smile. “Leechpaw. Why did you leave camp when the thunder started?” 

Leechpaw, appearing sheepish and humiliated, lowered her head to look at the floor. “I…” She kneaded the dirt, as if unsure what to say. 

“Come on, Leechpaw,” Roachchirp nudged.

Leechpaw looked up at Roachchirp with wet eyes, and then headbutted her shoulder. It was an odd display from such a proud she-cat, and it took Beeflick and Duskstar both a little by surprise. She was burying her face like a shy kit. “You tell them,” Leechpaw mewed into Roachchirp’s fur. Her small body trembled with the effort it took not to cough as she did, her lungs affected terribly still from the river water.

Roachchirp’s eyes raised to meet Duskstar’s, ever stoic and dutiful. “Leechpaw and I got into an argument about her training,” Roachchirp stated plainly. “We’d argued about it our entire hunting patrol- hence why nothing was brought back.” Roachchirp’s ear flicked as though she was annoyed to have to admit this. “Leechpaw was still emotional, so she left camp, and the thunder happened to coincide with her running off.” 

Duskstar nodded lightly, gaze directing back onto Leechpaw. “Is this true?”

Leechpaw only nodded into Roachchirp’s side. 

Duskstar hummed in thought a bit. “And then when the rain started, you just kept running. And running until you hit the river in the East. And Roachchirp, ever the dutiful mentor,” Duskstar added in an almost sickly complimentary tone. “Followed you, risking her own health and safety. And she found you and took you to the fox dens as the nearest shelter the two of you could find.” 

Roachchirp nodded once. “Yes, Duskstar.” 

Leechpaw turned to look up at her leader, and gave him a small nod. “Yes, Duskstar.” 

Duskstar hummed in thought again, staring at the wall just behind Roachchirp and her apprentice. After a moment, he nods again. “Very well. Please, don’t let this happen again. Especially you,” he mewed playfully, tapping Leechpaw on the nose with the tip of his tail. “We can’t be losing any more apprentices to that dreadful river.” 

Leechpaw only nodded in response again.

“The two of you are dismissed,” Duskstar said amicably. “Be sure to be honest with Snaillake about any of your symptoms getting worse or new pain.” 

“We will, Duskstar,” Roachchirp mewed obediently, ushering Leechpaw out of the den. 

It took a moment, but once the two had gotten out of earshot of the den, Duskstar turned to look at Beeflick, smile gone, replaced with a look of dark pensiveness that she had not seen on him before.

“Beeflick, dearest. I believe those two were lying.”

[goosehascats]

Moon 6: Part 2

Beeflick stretched her sore limbs out as she padded back into camp. Another solo border patrol on the North end had taken longer than expected, and Beeflick found herself tired of walking by the time she got back to camp. She’d avoided going on as many patrols as she could with Roachchirp, save for the occasional border patrol in the East, and Beeflick had made a note to sun and eat with Duskstar as much as possible. She didn’t want Roachchirp to feel like she was avoiding her, and she wondered if Roachchirp had noticed. And Beeflick wondered if Roachchirp was upset. And perhaps missed the two of them going on patrols together. Beeflick still spoke to her in the warriors den, but never much more than “good night” or “good morning”. And Roachchirp always seemed rather quiet and distant, though it hurt Beeflick’s heart less to imagine that was just a result of Roachchirp being tired at the end of a long day or not really being a morning cat. 

All of this to say; Beeflick found herself thinking about Roachchirp more now than she had when the two were patrolling. And so she was surprised when she was ripped out of her Roachchirp thoughts by Roachchirp’s voice beside her. 

“Beeflick?” Roachchirp asked, her face unreadable. Beeflick felt her pelt grow hot with embarrassment. She must’ve been staring at her, or at least a wall for too long. 

“Y-yes, sorry, um… What is it?” Beeflick tried to regain her composure, sitting up a little too straight.

Roachchirp watched her, her expression unwavering. Her eyes were set on Beeflick intensely, and Beeflick wasn’t sure if the blue in them was always that cold or if it was just tonight. “Do you think we could go on a walk? Talk, maybe?” 

Beeflick felt her chest cramp, just a little, and she licked her lips. “Well…” Beeflick started looking around the camp. Duskstar had his back to them, talking with Snaillake and Mitepaw rather excitedly. He wouldn’t notice for a while if they just left for a bit, right? “Sure.” Beeflick turned her eyes back to Roachchirp’s quickly, just barely catching eye contact before Roachchirp stood, walking toward the entrance. 

“Then let’s go before he notices.” 

---

“So,” Beeflick started softly. “What did you want to talk about…?” She had been following Roachchirp now for some time. It had been silent between the two of them, though with Roachchirp occasionally glancing over her shoulder to ensure that Beeflick was still there. 

Roachchirp’s ears flicked a little, but her head didn’t turn. “Well,” Roachchirp sighed. “I wanted… To ask about my security in the Clan.” 

There was… Something in Beeflick that ached now. This was a conversation with the Hiveclan deputy. This was not a conversation with Beeflick. Beeflick shook the disappointment from her fur, bounding up to be beside Roachchirp, rather than behind her. “What do you mean?” Beeflick asked in a far more formal tone. 

Roachchirp glanced at her, and Beeflick thought she could pick up on a flash of exhaustion and worry. “Duskstar doesn’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t bitter. It was a matter of fact, an observation. 

“Well-”

“Don’t. Please don’t defend him or lie to me and say he does. I know he doesn’t trust me, and he’s made that clear from day one. I’m not ever going to be a Clan cat to him.” Roachchirp’s eyes turned back forward, her pace slowing down as they climbed a knoll. 

“Ok. I won’t. Duskstar doesn’t trust you,” Beeflick said with a firm earnesty. “But I don’t think it’s going to compromise your position in the Clan.” Roachchirp stopped at the top of the knoll, turning to look at Beeflick. Beeflick widened her eyes some, making eye contact with her again. “But you are a strong warrior, Roachchirp. And the Clan relies on you. Duskstar can be as paranoid as he wants about you, but he and I both know better than to think we could ever do any of this without you.” Beeflick found herself stepping toward Roachchirp, and realizing this, she sat down to keep herself from inching forward any farther. “He might not trust you, but I’ve hunted with you and I’ve been on patrols with you. We ran off a dog together. He doesn’t have to trust you, because I do.” 

Roachchirp stood there, the moon rising behind her. She looked at Beeflick for a long while, searching her eyes and face for any sign of dishonesty or that fake saccharine kindness that Duskstar held. But Beeflick kept her eyes wide, unmoving from Roachchirp’s, every muscle in her body facing her like a sunflower straining for sunlight. Roachchirp’s muzzle twitched just slightly and she nodded. “Thank you, Beeflick.” Roachchirp turned to look down the knoll on the other side, her eyes wandering out through the grass. Beeflick glanced that way, but she found herself coming back to look at Roachchirp. Her eyes were still far away. An early Leaf-fall breeze kicked up, ruffling her fur, and Beeflick shivered a little against it, though not from a chill. Roachchirp, sensing her movement, looked back at Beeflick. “We should get back to camp before Duskstar notices us out together again.” 

“Oh, yes,” Beeflick said, standing up. “Did… Did he tell you to stay away from me? How did you know…” 

“Oh, no. But you were incessantly cheery about our patrols together and then just. Stopped. So it was easy enough to figure out, considering.” 

“... Ah,” Beeflick felt that prickle of embarrassment again at being so obvious about her enthusiasm. “Well. Either way, let us return to camp.”

[goosehascats]

Moon 5: Part 2

CW: Emotional manipulation

Duskstar found himself worried about Beeflick. Several mornings ago, she and Roachchirp had returned from a border patrol with news of a dog the two had run off. Since then, Beeflick seems to be talking about Roachchirp or looking at her. And certainly, he would never dream of demanding Beeflick find another cat to be infatuated with… But Roachchirp was already well on her way to finding herself in an “accident”. 

Duskstar waited patiently for Beeflick and Roachchirp to return from their hunting trip this morning, tail flicking in anticipation. Of course he had already wished Leechpaw a fast recovery from her complications, but now he was practically begging Starclan to magically cure the young cat if it just meant Roachchirp would spend less time with his deputy. 

The two she-cats came into camp, Roachchirp carrying two snakes and Beeflick, a rabbit. The hunting had been good, but that didn’t ease Duskstar’s worry. He waited for the two to set down their prey. Beeflick thanked Roachchirp warmly for the hunt, and Roachchirp barely responded, only nodding once and leaving to sun herself. Duskstar put on a smile, approaching Beeflick warmly. He headbutted her side lightly. “Might we talk privately, Beeflick?” 

Beeflick turned with an easy smile at Duskstar. “Certainly! Shall we meet in your den?” 

Duskstar only nodded, turning and leading Beeflick away from the middle of camp. His den was cool and dimly lit, and Duskstar sat far from the entrance. Beeflick sat directly in front of him, tail wrapping around her paws neatly. She looked up at Duskstar expectantly. 

“Beeflick,” Duskstar started, eyebrows turning up with concern. “I’ve noticed you and Roachchirp spending more time together.” He kept a smile on his face, but allowed a controlled level of quiet worry into his voice. 

Beeflick’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyebrows lifted as her ears and shoulders sagged a little. “Well, of course we have been. Leechpaw’s sick and it’s safer to have the two of us on one patrol than to have two solo patrols.” 

Duskstar nodded once. “I know, I do. I just…” Duskstar let out a breath. “You know she lied to us about what happened in that storm, don’t you?”

Beeflick’s smile did falter when Duskstar brought up the lie. “I do… But surely it was to save Leechpaw from a harsh punishment or something, I can’t believe Roachchirp would hide anything important from us, Duskstar.” 

Duskstar offered Beeflick a synthetic, sympathetic smile. “Perhaps, Beeflick, but are you sure you want to risk getting close to someone so readily willing to lie like that?” 

Beeflick looked off to the side, smile completely gone from her face. She clawed at the dirt below her. “I suppose not… But Duskstar, really, she’s been nothing but a wonderful Clanmate and warrior on our patrols.”

“I’m sure she has been,” Duskstar said reassuringly, touching his tail to her shoulder. “But she was a rogue before all of this,” Duskstar said softly. “She wasn’t from either of our Clans. She doesn’t know Clan loyalty like we do. She’s a wonderful warrior, certainly, but… I simply worry about you getting too close to a cat like that.” Beeflick didn’t say anything for a heartbeat, and Duskstar inched closer to her. “I know that this is… Hard to hear, Beeflick. But I care about you. We’re Clanmates, and you’re my deputy. I need you to be on guard, for your own safety as well as mine.” 

Beeflick sniffled a little, looking up at Duskstar. “I just… I need more warriors in the warrior den. It’s just Roachchirp and I in there right now. I… I can stop being friendly with her, but I need other warriors to work with.” 

Duskstar looked over Beeflick, eyebrows knit together in faux worry. “Mitepaw and Leechpaw are both well into their training. I’m sure one of them will be ready for a ceremony soon.” 

Beeflick nodded, looking back at the ground. “I understand. I see your point, Duskstar, I’ll… I’ll try to keep my feelings in check.”

[goosehascats]

Moon 5: Part 1

Roachchirp stretched as she exited the warrior’s den, the sun warming the top of her head and pelt. Beeflick had already gotten up that morning, and Roachchirp had made the decision to stay in her nest a while longer. The last few patrols they’d gone on together had gone… Fine. Fully nothing extraordinary, but Beeflick seemed to have it in her head that Roachchirp was prime friend material now that they’d actually spent time together. So Roachchirp was now doing her best to ignore the deputy, in the hopes that she’d lose interest. 

Roachchirp stepped into the center of camp as Beeflick was finishing a conversation with the new medicine cat- Normal? She thought to herself. She hadn’t paid much attention to his arrival, if she was being honest. She wasn’t sure she could trust the medicine cat that was already here, let alone some oddly named stranger. She sat down a few tail lengths from Beeflick, a noted distance to keep her from thinking they were any closer. 

Beeflick smiled with too familiar of a warmth at Roachchirp. “We’re doing another border patrol together, Roachchirp!” Her tone was sickeningly enthusiastic, but not in the fake way that Duskstar’s voice usually sounded. No, Beeflick’s tone was genuine. And honestly, that was almost worse. It almost made Roachchirp feel a bit like a bully for feeling so negatively about it. 

“Very well, Beeflick,” Roachchirp said in a neutral, serious tone. “Which border?” 

“West!” Beeflick said, springing to her feet. Her tail was high and her usually tired, nervous eyes seemed alight with renewed vigor. Roachchirp felt her chest tighten with a growl, but kept it to herself. She stood, with no urgency, and nodded once at her deputy. 

“Lead the way,” she said in a low, restrained tone. 

---

Roachchirp was beginning to regret not just outwardly telling Beeflick she disliked her. The entire border patrol was filled with constant conversation- no, rambling, as Roachchirp had barely meowed a word- about the old Rootclan camp and all the silly mundane stories Beeflick could recall from kithood. Through all of this, she kept her mouth open and eyes sharp, as her ears were taken entirely. It was about halfway through the patrol when a pungent, gnarly scent hit her in the face, and she pushed her stomach to the ground. 

“Beeflick,” she whispered urgently. The blue cat ahead of her was still talking, taking another step forward. Roachchirp growled and leapt, bringing Beeflick to the ground. “Dog,” Roachchirp hissed in her ear, her tail whipping around to muffle Beeflick’s startled yelp. The word registered for Beeflick almost immediately, squirming to get out from beneath Roachchirp. The two she-cats separated, crouched low, ears and mouths on watch. Beeflick’s pelt was twitching with obvious anxiety, her eyes wide and glistening. Roachchirp, even in her cautious state, felt a twinge of empathy for her. 

“Smells like the one,” Roachchirp whispered under her breath. “Not sure on size.”

Beeflick swallowed, closing her mouth. “We need to figure out how much of a threat the thing is.” 

Roachchirp nods, prowling forward on soft feet. Beeflick follows closely behind, the two barely disturbing the tall grasses around them. As they stepped deeper into the dog-scent, a crashing of sounds could be heard just ahead of them. Roachchirp raised her head just enough to see through the tops of the tall grasses, down a small knoll. She observed for a moment, relaying what she noticed to Beeflick below. 

“Small, about as big as I am, maybe slightly bigger. Furred, but not long. White. Short legs, broad chest. Seems a tad listless and has a two-leg’s collar on it. No sign of a two-leg nearby though.” 

“Perhaps left at the dirt thunderpath a day’s travel from this border? Wandered in this direction?” Beeflick pondered, mostly to herself. 

“Maybe,” Roachchirp responded. “But we might be able to chase it off.” Roachchirp glanced at the smaller cat beside her. “If you think you can handle that.” 

Beeflick looked up at Roachchirp, fear and determination mixing in her eyes. “We just need to set it in another direction. I doubt a dog that small would come back without a pack.” 

Roachchirp nodded. “On three, then?” Beeflick nodded once, and Roachchirp began to count. “One… Two…-”

“THREE!” Beeflick screeched, streaking down the knoll with her fur puffed as high as it could go. Roachchirp, taken by surprise at the slightly early launch, ran after her, hissing and yowling as she went. The dog looked up, yapping and attempting to stand its ground. Roachchirp’s weight and momentum carried her right up to the dog, claws meeting the tip of its nose as it just barely managed to back up. Beeflick came up on Roachchirp’s side, raising a paw for a second strike, but the dog turned and darted off with panicked yips, tail tucked between its legs. The two she-cats set off after it for a while, until it managed to disappear over the top of a small hill. Roachchirp climbed to the hill’s peak, looking down over it and watching as the white dog streaked through the grass further and further west. She glanced back at Beeflick down at the base of the hill. 

“It’s gone,” she said with relief through catching her breath. 

Beeflick nodded, fur flattening and letting out a held breath. “Good,” she said, relieved. “Let’s go back… Tell Duskstar…” She said between breaths. 

Roachchirp came down the hillside to Beeflick, eyeing her for a moment. “You know,” Roachchirp started. “When I said on three, I meant-”

“After three,” Beeflick said with a nod. “I figured by the fact you were about half a second behind me.” Beeflick let out an amused breath, not quite a laugh. 

“Well,” Roachchirp said, turning up one corner of her mouth in an almost smile. “At least you managed to startle it enough for me to get that swipe in.” 

Beeflick purred a little at the praise. The two started to walk back, in silence now, but with far less tension between the two.

[goosehascats]

Moon 4: Part 2

Primrose kneaded the ground anxiously, looking up at Duskstar, perched on the overhang to the leader’s den with the moon behind him. Primrose was only a moon old, and would still need to wait a while to be given an apprenticeship. But this wasn’t for that. This was to reward Primrose for being a strong kit, for surviving without a Queen in the Clan. He’d been told time and time over how he was expected to die. Every morning, Mosquitofur bathed him and told him how thankful she was that he was still alive. And now, he was being given a Clan name. A real name. 

“Hiveclan,” Duskstar started, with a honey smooth voice and a warm purr. “Tonight, under Starclan’s watch, we officially welcome new blood into the Clan.” Duskstar’s gray eyes turned to Primrose, and the small kit felt himself freeze, straightening his posture. “Primrose. You were found, abandoned, in a rabbit run. Newborn and alone. You were taken in by the ever caring Mosquitofur.” Primrose glanced over at his mother, eyes wide with adoration as he saw her highlighted by the moonlight. Duskstar’s voice pulled his attention back. “To honor your endurance and health, your Clan name henceforth will be Scuttlekit.” 

“Scuttlekit! Scuttlekit!” The small handful of cats in the clearing called. Primrose- Scuttlekit- puffed out his fur, jumping onto all fours in excitement. The top of Mosquitofur’s muzzle pressed into his side, her purring shaking his small body. 

“For truly, the most enduring creatures under Starpelt’s watch scuttle underfoot.” Scuttlekit’s eyes shone, sharing eye contact now with Duskstar. However, the kit’s excitement was too much to bear for long. He leapt up on his back paws, turning to Mosquitofur, planting his forepaws on her face. He pressed his forehead to her nose, letting out a soft squeak of excitement. Mosquitofur chuckled, a comforting tone filled with nothing but affection and pride. 

“We’ll have to get you talking here soon, little one,” she mewed in a playful tone. “But I’m happy you’re excited.” Scuttlekit purred hard enough that his whole body seemed to vibrate with the sound. Mosquitofur chuckled again, nudging him with her paw a little. “Why don’t we go greet your Clanmates now with your new name, hm?” 

Scuttlekit looked up at her, and then back at the small collection of cats sitting near each other. He looked back at Mosquitofur, pelt puffing out again, and took off in a wobbly sprint for his Clanmates.

[goosehascats]

Moon 1:

CW: Reference to app death/unhealthy emotional relationships

Nearly a moon has passed since Honeystream’s vigil. Beeflick finds herself wracked with guilt over it. Duskstar has been gentle- reminding her that there will be more apprentices soon for her to train. She appreciates the optimism, and his willingness to trust her with another life, but it hasn’t eased some of her worries.

While she often found him cold and impersonal, she began drawing herself more toward Snaillake. He was rational. And sometimes painfully blunt, but Beeflick almost preferred the stabbing sensation of Snaillake calmly labeling Beeflick a negligent mentor. It felt… Correct, to acknowledge her shortcomings. If she felt as though it was her fault, then she could imagine herself having control over the situation. It wasn’t that Honeystream was small or the river too cold and heavy, it wasn’t that she trusted him when he said he could do it, and it wasn’t that she was scared of Snaillake and Duskstar seeing her as a coddling mentor, a weak warrior making more weak warriors. She chose to let Honeystream nearly drown, and that meant that she had always had control. Beeflick has everything under control. I have everything under control.

She thought this over and over to herself in the days following Honeystream’s vigil, and she started to accompany Snaillake on his herb patrols. While she knew she was at fault for Honeystream’s death, she still wanted to ensure he was as stocked up as possible to prevent such negligence from robbing the Clan of any more young cats. Snaillake never turned down the help, though he never seemed overly enthusiastic about the company of the young deputy. 

On this patrol in particular, Beeflick found herself with a question. 

“Do you think… Honeystream is watching us? In Starclan?”

“Perhaps.” Snaillake said coolly. 

“... Do you think he’s mad at me?” 

“Was he mad at you in his final days?” 

“No,” Beeflick paused. “I don’t think so.” 

“Then probably not. Of course, he probably didn’t think he was going to die, but he also probably didn’t think he’d have to cross that river alone.” 

Beeflick flinched again, the pit in her stomach that had been there since Honeystream’s death tightening even more. But that was a good feeling, surely. Guilt meant she could be forgiven. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Snaillake said, eyes sliding over to her. “I’m the medicine cat. I’d be awfully terrible at my job if I couldn’t advise you on Starclan and the dead.” 

Beeflick’s ears twitched, looking over at Snaillake. It was the most comforting thing he’d ever said, even in his annoyed, passive tone. She smiled just softly. “I suppose that’s true. Thank you, Snaillake.” 

He just looked over Beeflick, letting a small breath through his nose. He looked ahead, and pressed his tail against hers lightly. 

The rest of the patrol was done in silence.

[goosehascats]

Duskstar's Past Snippet

CW: Murder, character who enjoys murder, de.. humanization, injury mention, shotgun mention, implied gore via a character being shot but there's no on screen blood or viscera, violence, scheming, etc

“The rain can wash away the evidence, but the flowers will always remember.”

Duskpelt woke with a start, on his trembling feet immediately. He looked around the den wildly, looking for any sign of someone else there with him. Someone who could’ve spoken in his ear like that. Strands of cobweb from the shoddy bandage job he’d done on himself hung in his eyes, and after being certain he wasn’t being ambushed, he set to try to carefully clear them of his eyes while keeping the bandage on the wound on his forehead.

Once he’d tidied himself off, he continued to walk into the woods. His gait was odd- several fine steps, and then a few limping ones. Not the walk of a truly wounded animal, as his steps without the limp were confident and sure footed. But he was nearing Burrowclan territory, and he needed to appear far more injured than he was. The woods here were eerily silent, birds quieted far more than they ought to be. Duskpelt squinted up into the trees, knowing certainly that he wasn’t making enough noise to have them on edge. So what did? 

Inevitably he finds his way to the camp walls, a great collection of roots and thickets constructed carefully so that only small animals could enter. Duskpelt wiggled his way into camp, collapsing theatrically next to the freshkill pile. He looked up, panting, and quizzically found himself alone still. It was just before midday, and certainly while in the warmer weather many cats would remain in the shade, the camp was never this empty. Duskpelt hummed in worry, slowly getting to his feet, keeping with his faux limp. 

“Hello?” He called. A small brush of movement near the medicine cat den pulled his attention there, and he began to limp forward. “Snaillake, are you-?” 

“Shut up,” A familiar, sharp voice hissed from the shadows. “Shut up and get in the den. Now.” 

Duskpelt slipped into the medicine den without hesitation. The smell of blood and pain hit him in the face hard, enough to dizzy him. Inside was Snaillake, a bandage around one leg, tending to five other cats within. Duskpelt immediately recognized them; the Clan’s older medicine cat, the deputy, an apprentice, and two warriors. They were all mangled beyond belief in some way, bandages stained through with blood and herb poultices, many of them seeming to be unconscious. 

Duskpelt’s ears flattened, glancing over at Snaillake. “What… What happened while I was gone?” 

“Dogs,” Snaillake uttered venomously. “Dogs and their two-legs, and no one’s sure why. Two-legs don’t seem all that interested in us one way or another, but their dogs keep setting after us and they don’t care much for it. They started…” Snaillake paused, putting his paw down, thinking. “Their rods. They had these shining stone rods that they pointed at us, and next thing you’d know, the ground would explode into nothing.” Snaillake swallowed a little. “Lilacpaw got pointed at. It didn’t make the ground explode then, somehow. But Lilacpaw…” He shook his head, letting out a shaky breath and regaining his composure. “I dragged everyone back that I could. Ragleaf and I were on an herb patrol and we heard Molefang’s hunting party get attacked. Ragleaf would’ve been fine, but those damn dogs were still sniffing around. I barely managed to climb a tree myself,” Snaillake added, raising his injured leg. “What about you? Where’s Ferretstar?” 

Duskpelt glanced at the incapacitated cats laying in their nests. “She…” Duskpelt glanced down at the ground. “We also had a run in with a dog. I thought it was an odd one off encounter, but it seems to be related to your phenomena.” 

Snaillake searched Duskpelt’s face for a long while, and then nodded. “I understand… Well, drag a nest over from the warrior den if you can, and I’ll have a look at you shortly.” 

Duskpelt dipped his head. “Thank you, Snaillake.” 

—

“So,” Duskpelt asked coolly, stepping out into the empty clearing that night with the able bodied medicine cat. “Do you think… They’ll make it?” 

“They could. But if we’re going to go through with our plan still, then I’ll make sure they don’t.”

“Good,” Duskpelt said nervously. “I was worried we’d have a harder time taking him out, but these two-legs and their dogs… They seem to be a bit of a blessing.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Snaillake said sharply, narrowing his eyes as he looked up at Duskpelt. “You didn’t see the debris of Lilacpaw’s pelt like I did. I don’t care how convenient this situation might be for our purposes, a blessing is far too generous a word.” 

“You’re right,” Duskpelt said with a breath. “You’re right, of course. I’m getting ahead of myself.” 

“Right.” 

A silence settled over the two, and they looked up at the sky together for a moment. Duskpelt shifted slightly as he sat down. “Snaillake, do you… Ever think about what I asked you?” 

“About whether or not you could go through with this?” 

“Well,” Duskpelt shifted his paws. “Yes. About not being sure if I could kill kin like that.” 

“Of course. I had to reassure you a thousand times that you wouldn’t have thought out such a detailed plan if you weren’t capable of actually doing it.” 

“Right. Well, I started having those doubts again while we were on the mountain, and…”

“That’s how you got hurt, isn’t it? You doubted yourself, gave her a moment to realize what was happening and retaliate, and it became life or death for you.” 

“... Yes. She… It…” Duskpelt flexed his claws into the ground, pupils slitted so thin, you’d think he was staring down a monster’s great gaze. “Her claws opened my skin and it was like she was nothing to me anymore. She wasn’t even a cat. She had no language, no family, no history, no culture, no beliefs, no dreams. Once that pain set in, it was… Too easy to kill her.” 

Snaillake cocked his head, looking up at the taller tom. “You sound troubled at this realization.” 

Duskpelt trembled a little, claws working at the dirt harder. “I craved that kind of violence, Snaillake. It felt good. I relished in finishing off each of her remaining lives once she was down.” Duskpelt licked his lips, finally turning his gaze to Snaillake, pupils widening again as they focused on the scene at hand. “I can not risk anyone knowing that about me, if I am going to lead this Clan.” 

“No, I suppose a blood thirsty leader would be… Off putting. But you’ve not exactly had that reputation in the Clan as is, so why worry at all?” 

“Well,” Duskpelt started, letting out a measured breath. “I’m worried about if another cat gets it in their head to challenge me. I don’t know if I could fight another cat without… Without making sure they couldn’t fight me again.” 

“And you were trained to be a mediator, Duskpelt,” Snaillake said exasperatedly. “You’ve already got your solution right there; keep people appeased with your flowery words, play mediator, and just appeal to people’s insecurities. No one has to know you’ve got your own.” 

Duskpelt looked over Snaillake with a thoughtful expression. Perhaps a less… ambitious cat would find Snaillake’s blasé demeanor unsettling, but it was respectable here. Duskpelt allowed himself a slight smile, purring. “Thank you, you’re right. I’ll keep my head on my shoulders. No point in stressing about it if it’ll just get me caught.” Duskpelt stood, turning back to the medicine den. “Let’s get to bed. We’ll start dealing with the opposition tomorrow.” 

Snaillake nodded, following Duskpelt back to the medicine den.

[goosehascats]

Moon 6: Part 3

“Hm. Norman,” Snaillake said in a cool tone. “Do you think you could perhaps give Duskstar and I a moment?” 

Norman glanced up from sorting the herbs that he’d gotten that morning, looking up at the other medicine cat and his leader. “Sure thing, I’ll get back to these when y’all are done talking.” He stood, meandering out of the medicine den’s entrance. 

Duskstar had been coming around the medicine den quite a bit lately. Secretive, Clan things, Norman figured. Things that Norman probably wasn’t quite ready for yet, if he ever would be. But it didn’t bother him- he didn’t want or need to learn the intricacies of Clan life, as long as he was being useful enough that he and his kits had food and shelter, he was happy to just have a safe place to live. Instead, he set foot toward the apprentice den, deciding to check up on Leechpaw. 

When he entered, he found Mitepaw curled up beside Leechpaw, bathing her. Mitepaw glanced up at Norman, and sat up some. Her face seemed tired, but Norman didn’t pay it any mind. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate him prying anyways. 

“Sorry, might I have a moment with Leechpaw?” Norman asked gently. Mitepaw stood, dipping her head politely. She got up to leave the den, but stopped in passing Norman. 

“She, um… She seems to be doing better,” Mitepaw said in a soft tone, looking into Norman’s eyes. “I hope you find the same.” Norman nodded once, noting the anxious tension in Mitepaw. 

“I’ll be very thorough with my checkup,” Norman reassured her. Mitepaw left the den without another word, and Norman stepped in. 

“I haven’t been coughing at night anymore,” Leechpaw chirped up, kneading at her bedding. 

Norman smiled patiently. “That’s good! Let me listen in on your heart and lungs for a moment, I’m sure you’ll be able to get back out there soon.” 

Leechpaw rolled onto her side, stretching her legs out so that her ribs were exposed to Norman. He leaned down, placing his ear against her chest, and listening carefully. Leechpaw began to take the deep, even breaths she’d had to do during every one of these check ups. Her chest rose and fell confidently, no quiver to the muscle, and Norman noted a strength to her heartbeat. He sat up again, and began to examine her face as well. 

“Well, your breathing is good and you seem to not have any mucus build up anywhere. Your hearing is about even. I think you’ll be set within another dawn or two, but don’t do anything till Snaillake’s had a chance to confirm that for me, alright?” 

Leechpaw grinned excitedly. “I’m just glad to be feeling better, I’ll wait for Snaillake’s opinion. Just… Make sure he hurries, please.” 

Norman chuckled a little at the apprentice’s enthusiasm. “I’ll make sure he visits as soon as he and Duskstar’s business is over with.” Norman stood, going to exit the den. As he did, he nearly ran into Duskstar heading into the apprentice den. The two narrowly missed knocking heads with each other, taking a step back. Norman looked up, catching Duskstar’s eyes in his. 

Thunder, Norman found himself thinking. His eyes… Like a storm rolling over the hills.

“Sorry, Norman,” Duskstar said with an apologetic smile. “Is Mitepaw in here?”

“No,” Norman said, shaking Duskstar’s eyes out of his head. “She uh, just left. Perhaps she’s in the dirt-place, or heading to the training grounds?” 

“Perhaps, I’ll try there. Thank you,” Duskstar dipped his head and, as quickly as he’d come around the corner into Norman, he was gone. 

Norman stood there for a moment, taking a moment to collect himself. He continued to walk out of the den, back toward the medicine den. Despite his attempts at calming himself, he couldn’t quite get those thoughts out of his head.

Thunder… Thunder over the hills…

[goosehascats]

Moon 3: Part 2

CW: Reference to death of an app/abusive power dynamic/unhealthy emotional relationships/grief and angst

Beeflick was exhausted. Her patrol with Snaillake had gone… Well, she would say, it went well. They were silent, again, for most of it. Snaillake preferred the quiet, and Beeflick wasn’t sure she had much to say to him today. Until a gust of wind had brought the scent of honey and brackish water washing over the two. 

They had shared a wordless look, before stopping immediately to meditate and pray to Starclan. Beeflick perhaps would’ve been fine with such a short visit from the dead, but even in picking up the herbs she had collected for Snaillake, the smell lingered for her. And she had found herself tearing up, crying silently the rest of the walk back home. She laid out the herbs in Snaillake’s den wordlessly, and turned to leave before he could even thank her. 

Duskstar was waiting in the clearing. 

“Beeflick,” he said in a smooth, warm tone. He was already purring so heavily. “I would like to discuss something with you, privately.” 

Beeflick’s eyes lifted slightly, swallowing her grief and allowing herself to look a bit hopeful. “Shall we meet in your den, then?” 

“No,” Duskstar said firmly. “I want to meet with you on the moors to the East.” 

Beeflick’s ears perked. “Is there something out there?” 

Duskstar simply turned to the camp entrance, looking at Beeflick over his shoulder. His tail flicked for her to follow, and she did so obediently. 

---

“So,” Beeflick started nervously, wind buffeting into her fur. “Where exactly are we going?” 

The clouds rolled dramatically overhead, the kind of gray that can only mean rain, and a lot of it. Duskstar’s pelt displayed starkly against it, his own fur being tussled by the weather. “There’s something I need to show you.” He turned, stepping down into a divet in the ground. Beeflick followed after him, finding little shelter from the wind here. In front of Duskstar was a dark entrance, cobwebs stretched over a lower corner of it. Beeflick’s pelt prickled anxiously. 

“This… Duskstar this smells like-”

“Fox? Yes, but it’s old. Faint, even, these are abandoned. But there’s more than that,” He said with a tone of interest and adventure. He turned to the entrance, chest swelling as he took a breath. He dove into the tunnel, disappearing into the dark. Beeflick’s tail lashed and she swallowed, looking around. She could feel eyes on her in every direction, and she swore she could smell fresh fox somewhere on the wind. “Come on, Beeflick,” Duskstar’s voice echoed out of the fox den playfully. “I haven’t yet shown you the important part.” 

“A-are you sure, Duskstar? Is it safe?” 

“I’m in here, aren’t I? Surely you know I wouldn’t go anywhere dangerous.” 

“O-Of course, Duskstar,” Beeflick said, voice trembling. She hesitantly stepped paw in the mouth of the entrance. She closed her eyes, pushing down a whimper of fear, and took 3 more steps into the entrance. 

She opened her eyes again, her sight adjusting to the dark of the tunnel. Duskstar sat before her, smiling. 

“I knew I chose a brave deputy,” He said affectionately. “Now, follow me.”

Beeflick’s nerves eased with the praise, the tension in her chest loosening. She lowered her head, ears on a swivel, and began to follow Duskstar closely. The two walked for a great deal of time, but Beeflick found herself unable to complain- at least down here, it was warm. The tunnel began to widen after a time, and just the barest hint of light began to trickle into the two cats’ vision. 

Before she knew it, they were in a low roofed chamber of sorts. A dark series of roots covered the back half of the chamber, a pool of dark water nestled just below it. The roots however are covered in small, squirming things with little greenish-yellow lights on their sides. 

“What are these..?” Beeflick asked in awe. In the reflection of the dark pool below, you could barely see their movement, almost reflecting back a night sky. 

“I don’t know,” Duskstar said in a low, excited tone. “I’ve taken to calling them starworms.” His head snaps to look at Beeflick. “I had my leadership ceremony under the clear sky, to commune with Starclan,” he started excitedly. “But I think we have found our own direct channel to our ancestors.” 

Beeflick’s eyes widened, ears up. “Are you sure, Duskstar? Have you tested it?” 

“No,” he said calmly. “That’s why I brought you here, though. You lost someone the most recently, surely you can reach out to Honeystream for me?” 

“I-I don’t know if it will work…” Beeflick said, her earlier grief creeping back. 

“Neither do I,” Duskstar said reassuringly. “But how else are we to learn? Surely you want the Clan to have somewhere with which to communicate to Starclan.” 

“Of course I do, Duskstar!” Beeflick said, nodding her head once with determination. “I… Simply worry about what he will say to me.”

“Beeflick,” Duskstar said with a low, empathetic tone. He stepped toward her, running his tail down her back. “It doesn’t matter what he says to you. What matters is that we ensure this is safe for Snaillake’s use. It’s your duty as deputy, isn’t it?” Duskstar’s tone was firm, but friendly still. Beeflick trembled, pressing her side into Duskstar’s.

“It is. I’ll do it.” And then, after a moment. “How?” 

“I believe you just touch your nose to the water,” Duskstar sat at the back of the chamber, away from the water and the worms. “As if to greet the dead.” 

Beeflick approached the black pool cautiously. She couldn’t even make herself out in the reflection thanks to the dark. Only her silhouette blocked out the light the worms gave off. She lowered herself down, closed her eyes, and thought of the smell of Honeystream from earlier. Her nose touched the cold water, and-

Beeflick was home. 

Beeflick looked around herself, whirling madly. Everything here was different, but it was the old Rootclan territory. It was bluer, now, and the shadows were black and dark and yet somehow just as bright as the rest of the territory. 

“Oh,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “We weren’t… Expecting you.” 

Beeflick whirled around to see Honeystream standing behind her. Almost immediately, her tears began to overflow, and she rushed forward, nuzzling his side. She began to attempt to sputter out apology after apology, but every word came out garbled and incomprehensible. Honeystream stepped back, away from her, looking slightly uncomfortable. 

“Um, ok,” he said softly. “That was… A lot.” He sat, beginning to lick his side where Beeflick had nuzzled him. Beeflick kept her distance, sitting with a tragically wet sniffle. “Beeflick, you’re not supposed to be here.” Honeystream said flatly. 

“Wh- Why not?” Beeflick asked, trying to keep the sting of rejection out of her voice.

“Well,” Honeystream looked around the treeline, as if begging some unseen force for aid. “I… I don’t really know, no one’s actually telling me anything. Not yet, at least. But just-” Honeystream stopped suddenly, staring at Beeflick. “Enough. Leave.” 

The change in Honeystream’s voice caused Beeflick to take a step back, tail low to the ground and ears flattened. “What? I-”

“Leave.” 

“I don’t know h-” 

Duskstar was peering at Beeflick’s face, sitting eerily close to her, when she woke up. She raised her head, and gasped slightly as she realized her nose had begun to bleed. 

“Are you alright?” Duskstar asked quizzically. 

“I think so?” Beeflick said. She swiped a paw over her nose to get the blood off, grateful to see that it wasn’t still actively running. “I saw Honeystream, and I-”

“What did he tell you?” Duskstar asked calmly. 

“Nothing, really.”

“He didn’t forgive you? Or accuse you?” 

“No, he just,” Beeflick paused, uncertain if she should share what exactly happened. She looked at Duskstar, and she felt with all of her being that she could trust him. But the smell of blood and a whiff of honey and brackish water made her think otherwise. “He just seemed a little surprised to see me, is all. I think he was expecting Snaillake to find this place.” 

“Mm,” Duskstar nodded sagely. “Then at least we know it works. Let’s get back to camp before the rain starts, and we will inform Snaillake of the new prayer site.” 

Beeflick nodded once, and the two slipped out through the tunnels, and back into the windy, raging moors.

[goosehascats]

Moon 3: Part 1a

CW: Reference to app death/ghosts/unhealthy emotional relationship/abuse of power dynamic

It has been a few days since Roachchirp and Duskstar’s conversation regarding the fox tunnels. Roachchirp finds herself at hesitant ease- he has kept his promise that no single cat patrols or apprentices would come near the tunnels. And nothing’s shown up in the territory. So hesitantly, she has begun to relax. 

However, this ease is short-lived when Leechpaw breaks their typical patrol silence. 

“Um, Roachchirp?” The small calico asked. “Can I… Talk to you about something?” 

Roachchirp turned on her heels, looking down at her apprentice with a flat look. “Is it important enough to distract us from our patrol?” 

“I-I think so.” Leechpaw stands up straight, though she does still seem shaken. Roachchirp is curious- Leechpaw is typically rather self assured, so seeing her unnerved by something is… New. Even Honeypaw’s death- because between Roachchirp and any cat who’ll listen, naming the dead thing a warrior doesn’t particularly do much to change what happened- hadn’t shaken her. So Roachchirp sat down in front of her, scanning to ensure they were alone. 

“Tell me, then,” Roachchirp said evenly. 

“I think… I had a vision,” Leechpaw started, nestling down into a crouch beside Roachchirp. “I was awake. Everyone else in camp was still waking up, cleaning themselves and stretching, but I wanted to check the perimeter around camp,” she looked up at Roachchirp quickly. “I didn’t go far! I just had this feeling that something was out there.” 

Roachchirp narrowed her eyes, but simply nodded for Leechpaw to go on. 

“I was up at the peak of our Eastern hill, facing the direction of the fox tunnels, and I saw… Someone, standing out in the tall grass.” 

“Could it have been Snaillake?”

“Hardly, I had seen him slip into Duskstar’s den just before I left,” Leechpaw said certainly. “And this cat… Was cream. Fully cream, save for his mask.” 

“So you think it was Honeypaw.” Roachchirp stated this plainly, reading the thought in Leechpaw’s eyes. 

“I don’t know for certain, he was so far away. But,” Leechpaw took in a shaky breath. “I think so. It looked like he was mouthing something, but I couldn’t tell what.” 

Roachchirp mulled this over in her head awhile, thinking. She felt like this was important- she knew typically Leechpaw ought to go to Snaillake about something like this, but Roachchirp had already taught Leechpaw to trust her and only her with sensitive information. She didn’t trust Snaillake or Duskstar, and she wouldn’t have them using her apprentice as a scapegoat for some ploy. But Roachchirp wasn’t familiar with ghosts and the afterlife, not in the sense of actually seeing them, at least. She stood, pacing slightly. 

“I’m not sure what Honeypaw would know about the fox tunnels,” Roachchirp mewed hesitantly. “He was dead well before we’d even explored the whole territory.” 

“But Starclan cats are supposed to be able to know things, right?” 

“If Snaillake is to be believed, yes.” Roachchirp tried not to growl, frustrated slightly by her lack of experience in this field. “But I wouldn’t tell him about this.”

“I know you told me to trust you, Roachchirp, but Snaillake-” 

“Snaillake has little interest in the nightmares of kits, Leechpaw.” Roachchirp turned around on her apprentice, glaring down at her. “Snaillake has hardly shown you or Mitepaw an ounce of kindness. He did next to nothing for Honeypaw’s comfort. For now, until he views you as an actual Clan cat worthy of his time, stay away from him. He’d dismiss you anyways.” 

Leechpaw nodded stiffly. She’d heard time and time again about how much disdain Snaillake had for the young. “You’re right, Roachchirp. I’ll stay clear of him, but if I keep seeing Honeypaw around, we’re going to have to do something.” 

“I know,” Roachchirp added with a curt nod. She turned, flicking her tail. “Let’s finish our patrol. I’ll figure something out soon.” 

Leechpaw nodded silently, padding after her mentor.

[goosehascats]

Moon 2:

Roachchirp felt her pelt crawl over her, claws digging into the dirt in Duskstar’s den. She was trying to keep her calm as she spoke, but he wasn’t making it easy for her. 

“We have to collapse those fox tunnels,” Roachchirp said in a low tone. Her voice was already fairly low, and this nearly came out a growl. “With full respect Duskstar, I don’t see the point-”

“Ah,” Duskstar said, a smile still plastered on his face. His voice, however, carried the barest hint of an annoyed tone. “You see, though, Roachchirp. You wouldn’t see the point in keeping the fox tunnels. You’re a warrior,” He stepped forward, fur lying completely flat despite the aggression flashing in his eyes as he sat in front of her. “Not a leader. Or a deputy, or a medicine cat, you’re… Muscle. You don’t offer thoughts or ideas to the Clan, your position is meat.” 

Roachchirp’s muzzle just barely started to wrinkle. “I-”

“No, no,” Duskstar waved a paw through the air. “Please, don’t take offense. I simply mean that, when you agreed to join the Clan, we had a very clear agreement that your position was simply to hunt and fight. In fact, that was upon your request.” He cocked his head to the side. “Roachchirp, you’re not having second thoughts, are you?” 

“Absolutely not, Duskstar!” Roachchirp almost shouted. “I simply worry for how small our Clan is, and the apprentices-”

“And the apprentices will not be in danger,” Duskstar said in a slow, measured tone, lowering his head to make eye contact with her. “I already promised you I wouldn’t designate any apprentice patrols on our East border, explicitly for your concerns.” 

Roachchirp’s eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth turned down and tucking into her cheeks slightly. She was refraining, so hard, from snarling directly in his face. “Yes, Duskstar,” she choked out. 

Duskstar raised to his feet, tail high, and his smile amicable again. He circled Roachchirp once, running his pelt along hers. “Wonderful! I do so appreciate your understanding, Roachchirp, it is patient conversations like this that keeps a Clan functioning.” 

Roachchirp let out a breath, forcing her muscles to uncoil. With her eyes closed, she nodded once. “Of course, Duskstar. You are the leader, after all.” Her tone became cool and controlled once again, and she stood. She was just a claw’s length taller than Duskstar, and she felt a prick of shame at letting such a small cat boss her around. 

The two gave each other a polite nod, and Roachchirp left the leader’s den. She did not notice Snaillake slipping from the side of the den into the entrance just behind her, stuck in her thoughts. 

Duskstar glanced over his shoulder as Snaillake came into the door. “Oh, wonderful,” the smile fell from Duskstar’s face, a cold seriousness washing over him. “We’ve got a few things to discuss. Including her,” Duskstar said with a dismissive flick of his tail toward the entrance. 

Snaillake sat, tail wrapping neatly over his front paws. “Then let us discuss.”

[goosehascats]

Moon 0: Coming Home

CW: Death of an apprentice, emotional manipulation/abuse Panting and struggling into the burrow, Beeflick wriggled into the tight fit after the rest of the Clan. There weren’t many of them yet, but a burrow even this spacious felt cramped with 8 of them in there. Duskstar purred warmly just to her left, closing his eyes. “A tight squeeze to be sure, but it is secure and we are warm.” 

Eager to please her leader, she nodded once with a bright smile. “It is rather cozy and safe here,” she echoed, looking over the rest of the cats. Honeypaw offered her a supportive but awkward flash of a grin, and the other two apprentices started cleaning themselves off. Snaillake’s tail flicked dismissively at her, an eyebrow raised with unimpressed indifference. Roachchirp had her paws folded neatly underneath her, seeming to ignore the cheery optimism of both her leader and deputy. Mosquitofur was the first to pipe up in response. 

“As much as I’m happy to leech the warmth off of you youngsters, I could use some help getting dry first,” she rasped. She wasn’t ill, though she sounded it. Mosquitofur’s voice was simply a rather dry, husky noise by nature. Had been for longer than either Duskstar or Beeflick had known her, at least. Snaillake gazed over at the elder, dipping his head. 

“Of course, Mosquitofur, I apologize for not thinking of you.” He seemed to put a slight edge on the last half of his statement, which Beeflick chose not to recognize and which had Mosquitofur’s ear twitch in annoyance. Snaillake approached and began to clean her to dry her off regardless of his tone, though, and everyone settled down to outlast the rain. 

It wasn’t until well into the next morning that the rain fully stopped. Hiveclan agreed to hold off on moving on until the sun had dried some of the wet out of the dirt. Duskstar was chipper as always, and Beeflick glanced at the rest of the Clan, hoping that his attitude was rubbing off on the less enthusiastic cats. The apprentices seemed happier- Leechpaw and Mitepaw poking and nudging each other, and Honeypaw seemed to just be scanning the horizon with interested, wide eyes. Snaillake was as stoic and annoyed looking as ever, but he moved without dragging his paws. Roachchirp stalked behind everyone, head lowered and almost appearing fox-like. Beeflick felt her pelt shift slightly and she looked back forward, swallowing down her nerves. Mosquitofur came up on her other side, running her back along Beeflick’s. 

“Excited to finally find our camp?” She asked, her New-leaf green eyes sliding over to gaze at Beeflick amicably. 

“Of course,” Beeflick dipped her head in agreement. “I just hope we get there sooner rather than later. Being on the move this long has me…” Beeflick glanced around at her other clanmates, lowering her voice so they couldn’t hear her. “Nervous,” she whispered, with a tinge of shame. Mosquitofur let out a breath through her nose. 

“Oh we’re nearly there, Beeflick. I can feel it, in my bones.” She ran her tail over Beeflick’s comfortingly. “These old bones haven’t been wrong yet.” 

Beeflick smiled tiredly. “I hope you’re right.” 

The Clan walked without stop till about midday, when the 8 cats came across a rather wide river. Duskstar’s mouth barely dipped out of a smile, but it was obvious he was uncertain about the water. “Hm,” he hummed. He turned to the Clan. “It seems as though we will need to swim across. The water seems to be rather slow, so it should be safe.” His steel gray gaze turned to Beeflick. He smiled warmly at her. “Beeflick, why don’t you go first? Ensure that the rest of us will be safe in crossing like a deputy ought.” 

Beeflick lifted her tail and ears toward Duskstar, an eager smile spreading over her muzzle easily. “Of course, Duskstar!” She trotted on her thin legs to the water’s edge, looking down into it. It was murky and brown, and if she had to guess, it was swollen from the rain. She thought to glance back at her clanmates, but decided against it for worry that she would look as though she doubted Duskstar’s request of her. So she stepped in, feeling the tug of the water on her limbs. She shivered, getting used to the wet and the cold. She walked into the river until she couldn’t anymore, and began to swim across. Beeflick wasn’t a stranger to swimming, but the cold and dirt in the water seemed to make it heavier, and she felt herself struggle just a bit. But even still, she found herself on the other side of the river, heaving herself onto it’s muddy bank and thanking Starclan for the sun on her pelt. “All safe, Duskstar! It’s a tad thick but I think our Clan is strong enough!” 

Duskstar nodded approvingly. “Well done, Beeflick!” He turned his head to the others. “Roachchirp, help Mosquitofur cross next. You’re our strongest cat, I trust you to pull her out should she need the help.” 

Roachchirp’s eyes slid over Duskstar without a change in her expression, but she nodded. She and Mosquitofur approached the water together, and Roachchirp glanced at her elder. “You go ahead, I’ll follow right behind.”

Mosquitofur dipped her head once, looking nervous about the water. But she got in, swimming across with what strength she had, Roachchirp following directly behind her. Roachchirp assisted Mosquitofur out of the water, supporting her back legs as she hauled herself up onto the slick grass. Roachchirp herself managed to get out of the water with a graceful bound, sitting immediately to lick the water out of her fur. Leechpaw and Mitepaw came next, but Honeypaw hesitated at the opposite bank, staring at the water and shaking. 

“Come on, Honeypaw,” Duskstar nudged the young tom lightly. “We need to cross.” 

Honeypaw, shaking hard with his fur sticking out at all ends, shook his head. “I-I can’t. It looks like the water that took Petalkit.” He looked up at Duskstar with teary eyes. Duskstar gave him a kind gaze, and then glanced at Snaillake. Snaillake raised an unkind eyebrow in turn, looking at Honeypaw with disdain. “Do you think wetting yourself at the edge of a river is how Petalkit would want you to remember her? Would you not rather overcome your silly fears of water to be brave?” Snaillake’s tone was sharp and low, and Beeflick couldn’t quite hear any of what was being said from across the river. 

“Honeypaw!” She called out. “Do you want me to come over and swim you across?” 

Honeypaw’s shaking body was bristling now with more than just fear- anger, at himself, for being so scared. “N-no!” He shouted back with determination. “No, I can do this!” He stepped up to the edge of the water, chest puffing out as he took a deep breath. He stepped into the water, staring at it as he walked in up to his elbows. He took another breath before jumping forward and paddling frantically. 

Beeflick looked on in worry, lips pursed some, but she wanted to let him accomplish this on his own. Honeypaw flailed over, head dipping below the surface a few times, but his determination kept him afloat amidst his coughing and sputtering. Beeflick perched at the edge, ready to pounce in the water. Honeypaw’s head went under again, and when he came back up, he was notably weaker. Beeflick jumped in immediately, paddling desperately toward his body and grabbing his limp form before it went under again. Snaillake and Duskstar both were swimming across as she got back to shore with Honeypaw. She laid him on the grass, pawing at his stomach and chest clumsily to encourage him to cough up excess water. His breathing was shallow, eyes partially open. 

“... Beeflick?” He asked tiredly, coughing again. 

Beeflick let out an exhausted breath of relief. “Yes, Honeypaw?”

“I’m sorry… For being scared and for being too weak to do it.” Honeypaw curled up on his side, body shaking. Beeflick just looked down at him, eyes concerned. 

“You’re allowed to be scared, Honeypaw. You still tried to do your best, and that’s all we can ask of a warrior.”

Roachchirp scoffs from the sidelines at that line, but says nothing. 

At this point, Snaillake was across, and approaching Honeypaw. He wordlessly nudges Beeflick out of the way, inspecting the young apprentice. “I’ll need to start gathering herbs as we travel. He’s going to develop some kind of disease or infection with how much water he’s taken in.” He turns his gaze to Beeflick sharply. “Next time, consider helping your quivering apprentice before he nearly kills himself.” 

Beeflick took a step back at his tone, ears back and eyes wide and apologetic. She didn’t say anything for a moment before lowering her head. “You’re right, Snaillake. I’m sorry, Honeypaw.”

Honeypaw only mrrp’d reassuringly in response. “I’ll carry him so he can rest,” Beeflick said to Snaillake, bending down to pick the young apprentice up by the scruff. She was by no means a large or strong cat, but Honeypaw was just 7 moons and still on the small end, so she barely had any trouble carrying him. 

The Clan discovered their camp by the next morning, in a low sort of miniature valley in the flower fields with a series of abandoned hare dens. Snaillake and Beeflick immediately set about gathering herbs for Honeypaw’s lethargic condition, but by the time they got to treating him, an infection in his lungs had already set in. The two tended to him night and day, but by the third day of being in camp, Honeypaw passed due to complications with his breathing. Not wanting the first Clan death to be an apprentice out of worry that it would be bad luck to the Clan, Duskstar decided to give Honeypaw his warrior name at his vigil, even if he’d only been an apprentice for a moon and a half. 

He was named Honeystream.

[goosehascats]

ClanGen Project: Hiveclan

Well over the mountain ridge, far enough that it feels like a different planet, two Clans had resided in near peace for generations. Burrowclan and Rootclan had seen their fair shares of wars and peace talks, but for the last few leadership cycles, their co-existence had been amicable. This, however, would not last. A sudden influx of two-legs and dogs, faster and keener than any two-leg pet the Clan cats had encountered before, were invading their woods. The Clans tried to stick together, tried even to escape together, unified by their terror, but to no avail. The Clans were split up, cats scattered in survival groups in every direction. So few made it out. Even fewer found each other again over the mountain ridge. Some were Burrowclan, some were Rootclan. They didn't care at that point, however. They treated their wounds, and moved farther from the mountains, into the foothills. Hiveclan formed in the flower fields below.

Guide

About the Clan Moons Allegiances Journals Art References Asks

[goosehascats]

About Hiveclan

Hiveclan is, more than anything else, a Clan united by survivor's guilt and trauma. Relationships in the clan will be unhealthy, toxic, codependent, obsessive. Leadership will be rife with paranoia. Medicine cats will find signs in every nightmare and suspicious shadow. Warriors are paranoid and easily started; fight or flight rules over thought. Elder's tell horror stories from their lives, and kits and apprentices internalize these horrors.

Ideals

Hiveclan values a few things in a cat;

Awareness (paranoia)

Compassion (an attachment and reliance on their Clanmates that borders on, if not being outright, codependency)

Wisdom (oversharing their traumas to the young and naive of the Clan)

Rules for Gameplay

All loners/rogues/strays are welcome to join the Clan (must be given some form of tragic or harrowing backstory if they choose to join)

Warriors names will be Southeast USA fauna and flora focused; heavy lean on bugs for name themes.

All encounters with other Clans will be ignored; Hiveclan is, for now, alone. Isolated.

All encounters with dogs will be focused on by the Clan founders, mark as major lore events.

Territory

Hiveclan lives in rolling foothills with tall grass, bordered on one side by wetland. The hills are full of wild flowers, and thus many ground hives for bees and wasps. Hiveclan, with their ever strained ears, have learned how to avoid the deep hums of these terrestrial dwellings- something they pray is to their advantage in the event of another invasion.

(Edit later with territory and camp maps)

Update Process

Every 3 moons, take note of any interesting going ons. Use these updates to inspire short stories and drawings until motivation and inspiration are out. Repeat the process. Updates will not be strictly game only text and will be interspersed with personal head canons for more specificity. Post schedule rn (after Jan 1 2024) is 1 journal and 1 piece of art on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.