#ashclan

[exocynraku]

abnormal

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 52, Part 1

Downstar and Rustshade broke up.

[Image ID: Downstar says to Rustshade, “Have we ever acted like mates? All I’ve done is lean on you. It’s not fair.” Under Downstar, it says - MATE: RUSTSHADE. Under Rustshade, it says - MATE: DOWNSTAR.]

(Rustshade: 96, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Downstar: 111, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

Clammask suckles a litter of four kits in the nursery with Scrubmask watching over her, purring so hard her body vibrates.

[Image ID: Four newborn kits sit in nests with introductory text under them. The first, a white tom with a golden head and tail, reads NEW PLAYER: HONEYKIT, 0, MALE, NOISY. Next is a white splashed golden tom with the text NEW PLAYER: SPLASHKIT, 0, MALE, NOISY. Above him is a brown masked tom with a white underside who reads NEW PLAYER: LEATHERKIT, 0, MALE, IMPULSIVE. Lastly, there is a black tabby molly, with the words NEW PLAYER: DRUMKIT, 0, FEMALE, QUIET underneath.]

---

There were originally five kits in Clammask’s litter.

The fifth kit was a golden molly who looked like the perfect blend of Clammask and Scrubmask, despite her loner sire. She had seemed so strong next to her brothers and sister. Clammask wanted to give her a strong, powerful name when the quarter moon came. Troutpaw predicted that she would be a mighty warrior, as strong as a cougar.

She passed on the third night of her short little life.

Clammask, like most Clan cats, believed in the idea that young deaths like these were not the deaths of unique souls, but rather StarClan spirits who journeyed back to guide the newborns into the world, only to return soon after. That didn’t mean the little kit’s passing did not hurt, however. That did not mean Clammask did not mourn what could have been, or that Scrubmask’s typical gloomy attitude did not grow darker as the quarter moon passed. Troutpaw outright avoided the nursery after her prediction proved false.

Scalekit looked a lot like the child Clammask lost. It made it hard for her to share a den with the pale-colored kit. At least he would be an apprentice that time next moon. For now, Clammask would focus on her kits while he was in the nursery, and her kits alone.

Two of them looked just like Clammask and Scrubmask. Just like their lost sister. The oldest tom looked like he had dipped his white body into a pot of honey, leaving just his head and tail colored. The other had his birth mother’s fur and his other mother’s white markings. The youngest tom was different, more of a golden-brown color, but Clammask could still see the familial resemblance. She had no idea why her only surviving daughter was black, though. The magic of StarClan’s Blessed Ones, she supposed.

Although she was still sore from her kitting, when the faintest shimmer of light graced camp on the seventh day, Clammask crept out of the nursery and toward the entrance. Scrubmask had been on guard duty most nights since the kitting. 

Scrubmask stared ahead when Clammask stepped out. Only a twitch of her whiskers let Clammask know her mate saw her.

“Come to the nursery,” Clammask whispered. “It’s time to name them.” Scrubmask stiffened. Her gaze drifted to the side. “Scrubmask, this is the family you asked for. Don’t let the kit that didn’t make it keep you from the rest.”

“I won’t,” Scrubmask promised, bristling. “It’s just hard to see them when… when there should be five.”

“I know,” Clammask said. She rubbed against Scrubmask. “Our four are healthy and beautiful, though. I want you to help choose names.” Scrubmask swallowed hard. She touched noses with Clammask, and entered camp.

The four kits were still asleep as Clammask and Scrubmask crept in. Weedfoot and Scalekit, sleeping closer to the front of the nursery, left when they saw the couple arrive. Clammask curled back around the four kits. Scrubmask wrapped herself around Clammask, head resting on her back.

“I already have a name for this one,” Clammask said, nosing the gold-dipped tom. “Honeykit.”

“Cute,” Scrubmask hummed. She studied the other golden tom, whose fluffier fur predicted a pelt as long as Scrubmask’s some day. “…Goldenkit. No. Fuzzykit. Too cute. No one will treat him seriously. Dandelionkit. No, I don’t like flowers.” Clammask nuzzled her mate, hiding a laugh. “Alright, this is the last name. Splashkit.”

“Splashkit it is,” Clammask purred. Her tail brushed against the soft pelts lining the floor of the nursery. She flipped over the corner of a rabbit pelt and studied the brown leather on the other side. “I like Leatherkit for the brown tom. Now you get to name our daughter.”

“Drumkit,” Scrubmask said quickly.

“Where did that name come from?” Clammask asked.

“It just feels right,” Scrubmask said. She reached a paw over Clammask to gently touch Drumkit’s head. It was not enough to wake the sleepy kit up. Scrubmask sighed and laid back down beside Clammask, purring.

“I’m glad I get to be a mother with you,” Clammask hummed, resting her head.

“So am I,” Scrubmask purred.

(Clammask: 46, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Honeykit: 0, male, kit, noisy)

(Splashkit: 0, male, kit, noisy)

(Leatherkit: 0, male, kit, impulsive)

(Drumkit: 0, female, kit, quiet)

(Scrubmask: 69, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

Having reached the end of her apprenticeship, the newly named cleric, Troutpool, feels there is so much left to learn, and frets about whether or not she is ready. With twitching whiskers, Fennelspot assures her that StarClan will always be there to guide her.

[Image ID: Terracottapaw and Fennelspot cheer “Troutpool! Troutpool!” From the corners. Troutpaw, now Troutpool, sits as a long-furred adult. Under her, it says LEVEL UP! TROUTPAW -> TROUTPOOL, COMPASSIONATE -> INSECURE, MORBID CURIOSITY -> GHOST SENSE.]

(Troutpool: 13, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Fennelspot: 109, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

Paleseed visits AshClan, but only makes things worse between the Clans.

[Image ID: Eelstar stands in front of Terracottapaw as Paleseed watches them both.]

---

Fennelspot had dreamed of a glowing ash tree during his visit to StarClan’s Shrine, apparently, with Mousesong standing underneath. In his eyes, that meant they needed to speak to AshClan. In Downstar’s eyes, that meant Paleseed had to speak to AshClan. They weren’t about to send Spikecrash into AshClan territory, not when they were carefully concealing her relation to Darkkick. Paleseed was the only one who could do it, but she refused to go alone. Not when she was a spitting image of her mother, named after the cat that Eelstar… that Eelstar…

“Paleseed,” Waspdawn said. He gently batted Paleseed’s ear, drawing her back to the present. The pair sat at the edge of AshClan territory. Morning sun beamed through the colored leaves and tinted everything red and orange. Despite the warm colors, Paleseed felt cold.

“Sorry, Waspdawn,” she gulped, rubbing her face. “Were you saying something?”

“I just want you to pay attention,” Waspdawn reminded his sister. “It’s not safe to be absent minded around AshClan right now. I don’t like how thin their numbers have been at recent Gatherings.”

“I suppose that’s all the more reason to check in on them,” Paleseed said. The wind carried fresh AshClan scent to Paleseed’s nose. A moment later, a small AshClan patrol slipped between the thinning shrubbery. “Hello! Excuse us!” Bright eyes stared at the two littermates. It was Frogbelly, Eveningshade, and Brackenpaw (one of Terracottapaw’s littermates, if Paleseed recalled correctly).

“Oh, Paleseed!” Frogbelly gasped. “Hello! You check the borders for visitors so often, sometimes you forget to see if anyone is really there!” He led Eveningshade and Brackenpaw to the border. 

“Hi, Frogbelly,” Paleseed sighed. “I’m afraid I have an official request. Would you take me to your camp?” Frogbelly’s cheerful expression stiffened, trying to stick around despite the sudden chill in the air.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea at the moment,” Eveningshade said. “There is a lot of disease in camp right now. We wouldn’t want RippleClan to get sick.”

“I’m sorry, but we have to be blunt about it,” Waspdawn huffed, angling himself in front of Paleseed. “Fennelspot received a vision that may link your Clan to the death of one of our codekeepers.”

“What, Mousesong?” Eveningshade scoffed. “Didn’t your leader say she was killed by a dog?”

“StarClan sent Fennelspot a vision, and it’s our job to follow up on it,” Paleseed gulped. “Please, Frogbelly?” Frogbelly squirmed under Paleseed’s pleading gaze.

“Maybe we can take you to camp for a short visit?” Frogbelly suggested, staring at Eveningshade. Eveningshade sighed, but flicked her tail for Paleseed and Waspdawn to cross the border.

There was an eerie familiarity to AshClan territory that Paleseed could not get over. Maybe it was all in her head, a fusion of the many stories her mother told her of her old life, but the way the trees grew thicker and seemingly every tree bore marks of harvest… Paleseed wondered if her namesake walked at her side, quietly giving her the strength to step into the camp where Weedfoot nearly died.

AshClan’s camp was surrounded by thickly woven walls, a symbol of AshClan’s determination to carve a new place in the land after the great fire that forced them into creation. Two cats sat tall on either side of the tight entrance. Paleseed and Waspdawn had to walk single-file between the AshClan mediators as they made their way into camp. Paleseed instantly understood why the plan to break Weedfoot out of the camp had been so difficult to undertake. Each den in camp was constructed from branches, twigs, bark, and any other chunk of wood the Clan managed to find, tied and stuck together to form giant dens. Each den had its own lovely decor dangling from the walls; dried flowers and necklaces and other beautiful things. There weren’t many cats wandering around that morning, but those that did basked in the dappled light of the thick canopy overhead. Those cats turned their heads at the sight of RippleClan cats entering their quiet camp.

“I’m hoping to discuss the vision with Newtstream or Eelstar,” Paleseed said, her voice struggling to break free.

“I’m afraid they’re both busy,” Eveningshade said. “Deputy Barkfur is in camp, however. Brackenpaw, please fetch him.”

“Yes, Eveningshade,” Brackenpaw gulped, bowing to Eveningshade. He skittered off into one of the strange, human-like dens. 

“Paleseed,” Waspdawn whispered into her ear. “Take a look at the cats around camp.” There were a few small groups of cats scattered about. A gaggle of apprentices watched Paleseed and Waspdawn from what Paleseed assumed was the apprentice’s den. Newly named warriors groomed squirmy kits. A young caretaker stoked the flames of a huge oven in the center of camp.

“What’s wrong?” Paleseed whispered back.

“Where are the elders?” Waspdawn asked. “Where are the senior warriors? Paleseed, I don’t think anyone we see is more than a few moons older than us.” Paleseed looked about a third time and realized her brother was right. Yes, a lot of cats would be out of camp at this time of day, but the elders would be relaxing on the warm boulder that acted as the back wall of one of the dens. The queens would be grooming the kits, not the young cats Paleseed saw.

Barkfur broke the pattern as Brackenpaw led him out of one of the dens near the camp wall. From Weedfoot’s stories, Barkfur had been one of Autumnstar’s most loyal warriors and bestowed the killing blow on Sprucespring, one of the Ashes in the Water. Paleseed quietly thanked StarClan that she didn’t have to talk to Eelstar.

“Mediator Paleseed,” Barkfur said with a short bow. “Codekeeper Waspdawn. Brackenpaw told me you’re following up on a vision.” He dismissed the young apprentice with a quick flick of his tail. Brackenpaw hurried over to the other apprentices.

“During the half-moon meeting, Fennelspot dreamed of Mousesong, one of our dead Clanmates, standing under a glowing ash tree,” Paleseed explained, her training taking over her insecurities. “Although we confirmed she was killed by a dog, the arrival of the vision has given us cause for concern. Do you know something about Mousesong’s death?” Barkfur stared at Paleseed, as though deciding how much to say. Paleseed’s jaw tightened. She couldn’t look at Barkfur like someone who killed her mother’s friend. She had to approach him like a reasonable tom who wanted the best for his Clan. “This isn’t an accusation of anything, sir. We just want the truth. If StarClan thought it apt to direct us here, surely they want us to know the truth.”

“I don’t know the full story,” Barkfur admitted. He leaned a bit closer and whispered, “Your Clanmate died on the first moon of summer, yes?”

“We found her under a beech tree, sir,” Paleseed gulped. 

“Then you’ll need to speak to Cleric Apprentice Terracottapaw,” Barkfur sighed, standing straight.

“Aren’t they a bit, uh, busy, Deputy Barkfur?” Frogbelly stammered. Paleseed had almost forgotten he and Eveningshade were still there.

“They can take the time to speak to our guests,” Barkfur said. There was a weight to his words that made Paleseed cold. She often took the opportunity to speak with Terracottapaw at Gatherings, and even saw them during a special mediator/cleric Gathering the moon prior. Every time she saw the young apprentice again, they seemed just as nervous as the first time the pair met. “Take our guests to the meeting den, and I’ll fetch Cleric Apprentice Terracottapaw.” Frogbelly and Eveningshade bowed to Barkfur, then nudged Paleseed and Waspdawn across camp.

As the group made their way to a small den, half bush and half wood, they passed by the mouth of a larger den. Paleseed glanced inside. AshClan cats sat huddled in their nests, shivering. Many had wrappings over their ears and noses and leather thrown over their backs. The very air within the den made Paleseed shiver. She ducked her head and tried to pretend she had seen nothing.

The meeting den was small, but there were a few leather pelts for the siblings to lounge on while they waited for Terracottapaw. Paleseed tucked her paws under herself and sat on a soft vole pelt.

“We’ll be nearby if you need anything,” Frogbelly promised. He gave a quick, awkward bow to the pair while Eveningshade left, then hurried to catch up to his friend. When they were gone, Waspdawn turned to Paleseed, eyes wide.

“Did you see all those sick cats?” Waspdawn hissed.

“They seemed more injured than sick,” Paleseed groaned.

“With bandaging on their extremities…” Waspdawn mumbled. “If I didn’t know better, I would say it was frostbite. But that many cats, at this time of the year?” Waspdawn sat next to Paleseed.

“Something is very wrong here,” Paleseed whined. “We… Downstar and Fennelspot should know about this.”

“I agree, but Paleseed, you have to remember, we aren’t here to fix AshClan’s problems for them.” Waspdawn examined the wooden walls, sneering. “The only reason we should be concerned about them is if they’re threatening our family.” Waspdawn was about to say more, but at that moment, Terracottapaw entered the den. They would have been taller than Paleseed if they would stand straight. They walked in a constant crouch that made Paleseed’s spine hurt.

“Hello, Mediator Paleseed,” Terracottapaw gulped.

“You don’t have to be formal with me,” Paleseed insisted. “We just have a few questions about a vision Fennelspot had at the half-moon meeting.”

“Terracottapaw,” Waspdawn said. His voice was taut and hard. Terracottapaw struggled not to sink deeper under his gray gaze. “Do you know something about Mousesong?” Terracottapaw dug their gaze into the leather-lined floor.

“I was collecting herbs when a dog came at me,” Terracottapaw muttered, fur prickling. “It chased me up a tree in RippleClan territory. Mousesong scented me. I swear, I tried to get her to run, but…” Their words died out. 

“Why did you leave, Terracottapaw?” Paleseed asked softly. She tried to meet the apprentice’s eyes, belly almost flat to the ground in an effort to look up at Terracottapaw’s downward gaze. “You weren’t there when the patrol found her. Why didn’t you explain yourself?”

“I was scared,” Terracottapaw mumbled. “It was my fault.” The sentence ended quickly as Terracottapaw stopped themself from going too far.

“I believe you,” Paleseed said, “but I think there’s something else happening. Terracotta, why are so many cats sick? Why has Eelstar missed so many Gatherings? Why can’t your mentor meet us?”

“Paleseed,” Waspdawn snapped quietly, ears tilting back. “What did we talk about?”

“I can’t let this go, Wasp,” Paleseed groaned, eyes shifting between Terracottapaw and Waspdawn. “Look how ragged they are! What if StarClan sent us here to help?”

“Another of StarClan’s messages Newtstream would ignore, if what Darkkick told us is true,” Waspdawn grumbled. Terracottapaw lifted their head. They looked out of the den, studying the figures on the other side of camp. They glanced at Waspdawn, shrinking again under his glare. Then they crept up to Paleseed and whispered in her ear.

“You can’t tell anyone else,” Terracottapaw said. “We’ve been cursed. Cats keep freezing, even in summer. Newtstream performs rituals to help us, and cats start to recover, but then they’ll get sick again. Eelstar’s lost a few lives already. We can’t stop it.” The hopeless fear in the apprentice’s voice stilled Paleseed’s breath and froze her paws.

“Cleric Apprentice Terracottapaw.” A thin figure stood in the den entrance. The old burn scars covering his paws were now coated in another layer of fresh wounds; blistering skin, eaten by a chill only he felt. He held his black tail low and, with only a hard gaze, drew Terracottapaw to his side.

“Eelstar,” Paleseed gulped. “Barkfur told us you were occupied.”

“I became unoccupied,” Eelstar growled. Terracottapaw bowed to their leader and crept back and out of the den. “What happened with your codekeeper was a horrible accident, but one that occurred as a result of an apprentice fleeing for their life. Does that satisfy your inquiry?” Paleseed tried to answer, but found her voice die well before she could make a sound.

“It does,” Waspdawn said, nodding deeply to the burnt leader.

“In that case,” Eelstar said, “I’ll have a patrol escort you back to RippleClan.” He stepped to the side so Paleseed and Waspdawn could leave. Paleseed squirmed. She pushed against her brother, who returned the gesture with a comforting lick. Waspdawn nudged Paleseed on. Paleseed slunk past Eelstar. She could only stare at his injured paws. 

Terracottapaw lurked beside one of the dens when Paleseed and Waspdawn emerged. Their eyes dripped with sympathy, but despite the chill that seemed to envelop the camp, Terracottapaw said nothing as Paleseed and Waspdawn left AshClan’s camp.

(Paleseed: 18, female, mediator, insecure, fast runner, steady paws)

(Waspdawn: 18, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

[ash-clan]

MOON 22

Woodtrail’s wound has healed! It remains scarred however.

Celebrating this, he goes to explore-

-and gets jumped by a rogue, who mangles his tail again.

[b1rdbra1ned]

fanart for @ash-clan >:3

[bluetail-cat]

And here's Birchbark in more detail. He's an Ashclan medicine cat, mostly tired and uninterested. But he does do his job, no matter how hard it is

[primordialpeacock]

AshClan (Moon 0 - Part 2)

Palewillow stared at the stone walls, blinking tears out of her eyes, trying to control her breathing. 

“What just happened to me?”

“Hrm?” 

Dung. She'd said that out loud. 

“What'd you say?” The dark tabby tom next to her blinked awake as he rolled to face her. “Palewillow! What happened?” 

“Shh!” She shushed him like she had in his adolescence and looked around to make sure he hadn't woken up their clanmates. “I'm okay, Shaderise, I'm okay, I just… I’m…” 

He looked even more concerned. 

“I… I need to talk to Falconstar,” She pawed the tears off her muzzle and stood to leave, Shaderise moving to follow her before she stopped him with her tail. “I'm fine, go back to sleep.” 

He pushed her fluffy tail aside. “Falconstar? Palewillow, please, what's going on?” 

Palewillow looked him in his golden eyes and promised, “As soon as I find out, I'll let you know,” And with that she slipped out of the cavern and into the large cave that SlateClan and SloeClan shared. Just as she began padding towards the chamber across from her, Falconstar emerged with a serious look on her face. That look had continuously unnerved Palewillow for the past couple weeks. Falconstar had always been the most bold and immodest cat Palewillow had ever met, so seeing the leader so stern kept leaving her with a sense of dread. 

“Palewillow, come with me,” Falconstar commanded before heading out of the cave.

Palewillow followed. As the two stepped out into the night air, the SloeClan warrior on guard gave them a questioning look.

“At ease, Whitebriar,” Falconstar teased as she stepped past him. 

He nodded to his leader and gave Palewillow a hard stare before continuing his duties. She followed Falconstar until the older molly settled down on a hollow log, beckoning with her tail for Palewillow to join. Instead she stood on the ground in front of Falconstar, looking up at her and stating

“You were in my dream.”

“And you were in mine.” 

“The willow was me, I get that. And the falcon was supposed to be you?”

“Perceptive.”

Palewillow forced her fur to lie flat. Falconstar's moments of seriousness were always brief. “Falconstar I don't understand what I saw! Just tell me!”

Falconstar's smirk quickly shifted into an almost soothing grin. “This was your first vision?”

Hearing it said out loud made the reality of it all feel so much heavier in Palewillow's head. “...it was.”

“Don't be ashamed. Many deputies don't get sent messages from StarClan until they're leaders. And you've only been deputy for, what, six moons now?”

“Five.”

“Five.” 

Deputy. Palewillow still didn't feel like she was. Before the fire, when the Twolegs began making their destructive way through the forest, SlateClan's deputy Adderstone met her end in the jaws of a coyote. Palewillow never understood why Quailstar chose her to follow in the pawsteps of someone as wonderful as Adderstone. Palewillow felt so unprepared, and Shaderise had only just earned his name. But Quailstar said he saw something in her. Something she still had yet to see.  

“Palewillow?” 

“Yes?”

“Do you want to become the leader of SlateClan?”

“Of course.”

“I'm sorry, let me rephrase. Are you ready to be the leader of SlateClan?”

It took Palewillow a long moment to respond even though she knew the answer, “...I'm not.”

Falconstar regarded the deputy for a moment before continuing, “I believe StarClan has shown us how to save our Clans.” 

Palewillow waited for Falconstar to say the answer before the deputy realized the leader was waiting for Palewillow herself to say it. She swallowed her frustration and sat down, wrapping her trail around her legs as she stared up at the starry sky. A willow tree. A falcon. The burned forest suddenly filled with beautiful sounds of life. 

Palewillow met Falconstar's eyes and stated, “StarClan wants us to unite.” 

Falconstar nodded. “You have no leader, I have no deputy. You cannot receive your nine lives, and StarClan bless my clanmates but none of them are eligible to be deputy. But StarClan clearly believes that you and I can bring our Clans back from the brink of extinction. Together.” 

Palewillow sat silently regarding the old molly.

“Think about it, Palewillow. You said yourself that you are not ready to lead your Clan. You could become my deputy and one day when my time comes you can lead as a cat with proper experience. And there are pressing matters we cannot face on our own. There are hardly any of us left. Our Clans alone do not have the claw power to defend territories. A war is coming, the other Clans will fight over this unknown land and the only chance we have is to unite and face our enemies as one.” 

Palewillow stared at Falconstar.

“I understand this goes against everything you and I were raised to believe, but if StarClan is saying to-”

“I'm not disagreeing with you, Falconstar,” Palewillow cut the SloeClan leader off. “I just…” Palewillow took a long breath and rose to her paws, leaping onto the log and sitting next to Falconstar. 

The deputy asked, “How are we going to convince the others?” 

[demoniccrows]

[oceanclangen]

Hoping to get the next update out soon, but for now, have some kitty fanart!!!!

Characters:

Otterslip: @fallenclan

Heronpaw- @juniper-clan

Bleakpaw- @dawn-clan

Goldrun- @castaway-clan

Fogtail- @wyrm-clangen

Foxspeckle- @sporeclan

Wood kit- @ash-clan

[emperormoth101]

do I cave in to my ideas and start an object clangen

[companionwolf]

Rising from the ashes like a phoenix, Ruststar restarts his clan-- aka I am doing the Last Camp challenge properly now. New cats I headcanon the surviviors found in their travels.

[colonies-of-the-shells-and-fish]

don’t you ever just hate it when you try to message someone but then you chicken out half way through and delete the messages

[exocynraku]

update on ashclan i'm working on the characters . i have eradicated gender . everyone has neopronouns now

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 14

Halibutpaw, Graypaw, and Shadowpaw are apprentices! Halibutpaw learns under Parsley, Graypaw is a caretaker under Carnationspeckle, and Shadowpaw is called to be a codekeeper with Rustshade’s help.

[Image ID: Halibutpaw, Graypaw, and Shadowpaw sit in a line. Under Halibutpaw, it says LEVEL UP! HALIBUTKIT -> HALIBUTPAW. Under Graypaw, it says LEVEL UP! GRAYKIT -> GRAYPAW. Under Shadowpaw, it says LEVEL UP! SHADOWKIT -> SHADOWPAW.]

(Halibutpaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, impulsive, quick witted, lover of stories)

(Graypaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, bullying, careful listener)

(Shadowpaw: 6, male, codekeeper apprentice, troublesome, confident with words)

Graypaw pranks Rustshade with Shadowpaw’s help.

[Image ID: Graypaw and Shadowpaw run from Rustshade. Graypaw says “You’ll never take us alive!” Shadowpaw says “Sorry Rustshade, she made me!” Rustshade says “Get back here!”]

---

“What were you doing out alone like this to begin with?” Rustshade groaned as he raced behind Shadowpaw. 

“Just hurry!” Shadowpaw yowled. “She needs help!” Late summer warmth coated Rustshade’s pelt as he hurried over the stones and roots of RippleClan’s forest. Shadowpaw had only been an apprentice for a quarter moon, but he had a handle on the territory already. He scurried between the trees like he had wandered the land as long as Rustshade had. Shadowpaw’s dark gray fur blended with the stones scattered about.

“You’re going to kill me and your mother at this rate,” Rustshade grumbled. He rubbed his paws raw as he launched off rocks and matched Shadowpaw’s frantic pace.

Eventually, the gray apprentice screeched to a stop under the cover of a huge sugar maple. Thick green leaves sheltered the two codekeepers from sunhigh and dappled their pelts. Rustshade’s gaze dotted around the trees. His nose twitched and searched for the scent of blood or fear, but he smelled nothing.

“Shadowpaw, are you sure this is where you left her?” Rustshade said, intense eyes locking onto Shadowpaw’s. 

“I’m sure,” Shadowpaw said. There was a lightness to his voice that made Rustshade pause. Shadowpaw’s eyes flicked into the branches of the maple. Something skittered over Rustshade.

The ginger codekeeper looked up just in time to see Graypaw flying from the tree, a bloodthirsty yowl splitting the air, her paws stretched out toward Rustshade. He didn’t have time to react. Graypaw landed on top of him, shoving him into the dirt. She bounded off before Rustshade could kick her.

“You’ll never take us alive!” Graypaw cheered. She playfully shoved Shadowpaw and took off into the depths of the trees.

“Sorry, Rustshade!” Shadowpaw laughed, scurrying after his sister. “She made me!” Their dark fur blended with the shade of the trees.

“Get back here!” Rustshade snapped as he hurried to his paws. She shook the dirt off him and followed the trail of the troublesome apprentices.

(Rustshade: 58, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Shadowpaw: 6, male, codekeeper apprentice, adventurous, confident with words)

(Graypaw: 6, female, caretaker apprentice, bloodthirsty, careful listener)

Downstar’s patrol comes across a kittypet interested in Clan life.

[Image ID: Weedfoot, Oilstripe, and Downstar stand on the left beside each of their apprentices. A pale ginger and white tom with a dark blue ribbon is in the upper right corner, saying “Excuse me!” Underneath him, it says NEW PLAYER: JAMES, 90 MOONS, MALE, CHARISMATIC, DEN BUILDER, FORMIDABLE FIGHTER.]

---

Weedfoot prided herself on her social nature. She considered herself a happy, chatty molly, one who befriended others easily and eased the tensions with others. Sometimes she wondered if she was a mediator reincarnated; after all, she had befriended most of the other deputies (not Eelgrowl, though. Never Eelgrowl). She was beloved by her apprentices, both old and new, and all in all, her Clanmates liked her!

So why could she not ease the tension between Downstar and Oilstripe?

Oilstripe, to her credit, seemed unaware of Downstar’s aloof behavior towards her and continued on the border patrol with Burdockpaw like nothing was wrong. Downstar stayed well ahead of Oilstripe with Clampaw at her side. Weedfoot and Locustpaw took to the back of the group, noses alert and primed for unfamiliar scents.

“I bet I could make Downstar laugh,” Locustpaw whispered, their short neck craning up to Weedfoot’s level.

“Not right now, Locustpaw,” Weedfoot muttered as Downstar stopped. “We’re at the border.” 

AshClan scent was thick on the other side of the border that night. Weedfoot could hardly smell her own Clan through the mess. That was what it was to her now; a mess. The churning scent of a Clan who slaughtered her friends and left her wounds to fester. A Clan who let Paleshade die.

“Burdockpaw, come with us,” Downstar ordered. “We’re going to mark this stretch of the border. Weedfoot, take Locustpaw and Oilstripe along the other half. We’ll meet back here when we’re finished.” Burdockpaw trotted away from his mentor and slipped between Downstar and Clampaw. 

“Let’s get this done fast, and we can be back in our nests soon,” Weedfoot sighed, glancing at the starry sky above. She led her group along the border and refreshed RippleClan’s scent.

The trees were thick in this part of the territory, marked by AshClan caretakers as they harvested wood for their artisans. Weedfoot remembered strolling through the area as an apprentice, learning how AshClan learned to wield their excess of trees to their advantage. She’d much prefer to remember her various visits to the border with Oilstripe, wondering if they would see the Giant Frog of RippleClan once more, throwing clever insults at nearby AshClan cats.

“Weedfoot,” Locustpaw said, snapping Weedfoot out of her strange nostalgia. They had just finished marking part of the border and now glanced between Weedfoot and Oilstripe. “Weedfoot, she’s staring at nothing again.” Weedfoot looked over her shoulder. Oilstripe focused on a random spot beside Weedfoot, just over the border. She would have seemed attentive if she had been looking at anyone, but instead she looked like she needed a chat with Fennelspot.

“Are you alright, Oilstripe?” Weedfoot asked. Her paw touched Oilstripe’s shoulder. Oilstripe turned to her former mentor, but kept glancing at the empty space.

“I was just thinking,” Oilstripe muttered, tail twirling, “do you have any fun stories from this area? Something to teach Locustpaw maybe?” Weedfoot thought for a moment. In the past, the border had been a fairly mundane stretch of AshClan territory. There wasn’t much she could think of happening here, outside of her meeting with the Giant Frog, but she had told Locustpaw that story already. Suddenly, a gentle memory slipped to the surface and Weedfoot’s heart softened.

“Further into AshClan,” Weedfoot explained, pointing her tail through the dark, “there was this flat stone. We all loved to sunbathe on it in the summer. We’d spend our sunhighs sleeping there, away from the chatter in camp. Paleshade and I visited that spot a lot. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone.” Weedfoot’s chest grew warm and she couldn’t help but purr. “That was where I proposed to her.”

“Wait, Paleshade was your mate?” Locustpaw gasped. “I thought she was your sister!”

“StarClan, no,” Weedfoot laughed. “Didn’t your father tell you this? Paleshade and I were quite the duo. We had a lot of ideas. We drove our mentors to the edge of sanity!” She shook her head with a soft laugh. “Paleshade and Weedfoot. They always said our names together.” Weedfoot stared into AshClan and mumbled, “I wonder if she would be proud of me.”

“She is,” Oilstripe stammered. “I mean, I think she would be. I think Paleshade would be really, really happy for you.”

“Oh, thank you, Oilstripe,” Weedfoot purred. She bumped heads with Oilstripe and let the warmth in her chest sink through her and into her former apprentice. “You can say the nicest things.”

“When you don’t put your tail in your mouth,” Locustpaw said softly.

“No chirpin’ Oilstripe,” Weedfoot chastised Locustpaw, gently flicking them with her tail. “Come along, then. We’ve marked enough of the border. Let’s meet Downstar.” Weedfoot and Oilstripe walked beside one another back to the meeting spot. Downstar, Burdockpaw, and Clampaw beat them there, chatting with one another until they spotted the rest of the patrol arriving.

“Good,” Downstar yawned. “Let’s go home.”

“Excuse me!” someone yowled. A bulky figure flew out of the bushes on the other side of the border. It was a pale ginger tom with leaves sticking out of his long, fluffy fur. A dark blue ribbon clung to his neck, ending in a pretty bow. His white underside was stained with mud. He flew over the border and trampled over Locustpaw. Locustpaw kicked him off. The kittypet tumbled over himself and landed at Weedfoot’s paws.

“Who are you?” she snapped as Burdockpaw and Locustpaw hissed.

“I’m very sorry,” the kittypet groaned, hurrying to his feet, “but I believe your neighbors are trying to kill me.”

“There he is!” A thin gray tom scurried out of the shadows with three AshClan cats at his side. Weedfoot’s fur bristled and her claws slipped out of her paws.

“Eelgrowl,” she hissed as Eelgrowl stopped his patrol a tail-length from the border.

“Weedfoot,” Eelgrowl huffed, cold brown eyes clawing into Weedfoot. “You have something of ours.”

“What’s going on?” Downstar asked as the kittypet’s raised fur made him grow to twice the size.

“We caught this kittypet hunting on our territory,” Eelgrowl explained. “He took prey from our kit’s mouths.”

“In my defense,” the kittypet growled, “I had no reason to believe I couldn’t catch mice on your land.”

“He didn’t even eat it!” the brown cat behind Eelgrowl, a warrior named Barkfur, hissed. “He played with it like a moss-ball!”

“We can’t let a kittypet who so willfully wastes prey leave unpunished,” Eelgrowl said. He took a bold step forward, his paw dancing on the edge of RippleClan territory. 

“He’s on RippleClan territory now,” Downstar huffed, standing between Eelgrowl and the kittypet. “We will handle him.” Downstar stared down Eelgrowl. Part of Weedfoot wanted Eelgrowl to try something so she could beat his face into the rocks. He had it coming, after all.

“You know what?” Eelgrowl snapped. “Fine. Keep him. Save us the hassle.” He stepped away from the border. “If we see you on AshClan’s land again, kittypet, I’ll have our artisans turn you into a rug.” Eelgrowl flicked his long, thin tail back. His patrol stalked away, eyeing the kittypet until they slipped from view. The kittypet sighed and smoothed his pelt.

“You don’t really do that, do you?” he gulped, glancing at Downstar.

“They’re bluffing,” Clampaw assured him.

“Who are you, then?” Downstar asked.

“My name is James,” the kittypet said, preening under the attention. “I come from the north. My humans had plans to move south, but I didn’t want to follow them. I’ve heard my fair share of rumors about Clan life, and thought I would join one instead. Clearly I will not be joining AshClan’s ranks.” He sneered across the border.

“You’re lucky you found us!” Burdockpaw declared. “We’re RippleClan. We’re all about welcoming kittypets and such!”

“Where was this enthusiasm when we met Apple Cider?” Oilstripe scoffed, whiskers twitching.

“Oh yes, I met her on my way here,” James chirped. “Friendly cat.”

“There’s a lot of work to do in a Clan,” Downstar said. “It can be rewarding, but you would need to respect our laws. We kill prey to eat it, not to play with it. We cannot afford to disrespect those lives in such a way.”

“What do you play with, then?” James asked, cocking his head.

“Something other than prey,” Weedfoot chuckled, shaking her head.

“We’ll escort you back to our camp if you’d like,” Downstar explained, nodding toward the unseen coast. “You can decide if Clan life is really suited for you or not.”

“Very well then,” James said, bowing to Downstar. “Lead on, dear lady. I look forward to seeing how many of the rumors about your Clans are true.” Downstar purred a bit at the title, then flicked her tail and led the patrol away from the border. Burdockpaw and Locustpaw walked on either side of James, each eyeing the newcomer for trouble. Weedfoot and Oilstripe wandered behind them. 

“For the first time in moons,” Weedfoot muttered to Oilstripe, “AshClan actually gave us something.” Oilstripe laughed and playfully bumped against Weedfoot.

(Weedfoot: 63, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Downstar: 73, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Locustpaw: 8, nonbinary (they/them), historian apprentice, troublesome, moss-ball hunter)

(Oilstripe: 18, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

(James: 90, male, caretaker, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Clampaw: 8, female, caretaker apprentice, lonesome, interested in Clan history)

(Burdockpaw: 8, male, historian apprentice, loyal, interested in Clan history)

[ash-clan]

MOON 23

Woodtrail’s tail heals again, but he gains another scar.

[specks-of-ashclan]

First Ashclan post!! Sorry its a little mid haha first time really doing something like this. Next post will be all the kitties in the clan :)

[bluetail-cat]

Ashclan is next, with a bonus of a new character!!!

Pumastar, Chiprun, Squirrelhead and Birchbark

Picrew is under the cut!