#asterblaze

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 89, Part 2

The first thing Whitepaw asks to do after being apprenticed to Billowhaze is to collect moss, shocking his mentor.

[Image ID: Whitepaw is now an apprentice. Under him, it reads LEVEL UP! WHITEKIT → WHITEPAW, SKITTISH → NERVOUS.]

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

Lightningrunner is murdered.

[Image ID: Whitepaw and Shrewflame hurry to Leathermask, Vervaincough, and Puddlewhisper.]

---

While Whitepaw couldn't claim to be as self-assured and skilled as his older brother, or as respected and proud as his adopted mothers, he certainly tried to live up to them. He would groom his long, wild fur and make sure his elders knew he was listening, ears locked and unmoving on them. He would keep an eye on Gingerkit and Frostkit, even though the caretakers insisted it was their job to mind them and Whitepaw could enjoy his last days of kithood. He would make sure he wasn't under anyone's paws or bothering anyone as they worked. There was a lot to do, a lot to protect, and all Whitepaw seemed good at was coming up with new games to pass the time until his ceremony.

Things should have been better with his apprenticeship. He should have found a way to support the Clan that immediately offered their love and support. He should have focused on his new studies, tackling Billowhaze's lessons on science and history with the same fire Shrewflame had in his apprenticeship. He should have been a good apprentice.

None of this should have happened.

Whitepaw seemed to carry the entire beach on his half-wet pelt as he ran after Shrewflame. He looked more cream than white. Even through Shrewflame's legs were equally soaked, the sand didn't slow him down. He bounded toward the shipwreck with an unmatched speed. Whitepaw, meanwhile, struggled to feel his legs. The waves smacked into the shore with a consistent, drum-like beat that pounded deeper and deeper into Whitepaw's head. The water ate the dusting of snow that shrouded the rest of RippleClan territory. The writhing tides ate the sunlight while the snow beyond the shore reflected it onto Whitepaw's back.

"Shrewflame, wait," Whitepaw begged, stumbling over his own paws. "I, I can't keep up!" Shrewflame danced to a stop and turned back to his younger brother. Whitepaw panted, falling back on his flank. He tried to groom the matted sand off his legs, but the dark tan flecks seemed to tangle in his long fur. The salty water stung his mouth and the sand irritated his skin. His tongue raked harder and harder through his pelt, but he couldn't get clean. The weight of it all pulled him deeper into the sand.

"Whitepaw," Shrewflame said softly as Whitepaw whined. It wouldn't come off! "Whitepaw, listen, everything will be alright. I promise you."

"How?" Whitepaw gulped, coughing on sand. "You can't promise anything. You don't know what'll happen next."

"I'm going to keep you safe," Shrewflame huffed. He rested a paw on Whitepaw's head, knocking his tongue away from his obsessive grooming. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Whitepaw. Trust me." Whitepaw nodded without thinking. Shrewflame touched his nose to Whitepaw's head. Whitepaw forced himself to breathe. It was only when Whitepaw could stand still before his brothee that Shrewflame stepped back and continued on the path to RippleClan's camp.

"Don't panic the Clan," Shrewflame warned as he and Whitepaw approached the camp entrance, guarded by Currentsmoke. "Let me handle this." Whitepaw nodded once more. He shivered as he passed through the thorny walls of the entrance. Currentsmoke eyed his soaked, sandy pelt. Shrewflame let his brother enter first, glancing north the way they came.

Whitepaw waited by the camp entrance for Shrewflame, below the stove where Rabbitjoy and Ravenweaver debated what to serve for the sunhigh meal. He could feel eyes on him; Asterblaze and Drumtooth glanced at him while they crafted more tooth-sticks, and Rapidleaf nudged Carnationspeckle from her work fortifying the camp walls as Shrewflame joined Whitepaw. Over by the Shiprock, Puddlewhisper sat with Leathermask and Vervaincough. They seemed focused on their conversation. Shrewflame jogged toward them, Whitepaw hot on his heels. Puddlewhisper's ear perked at the pair's approach.

"Shrewflame?" Puddlewhisper said, cocking her other ear. "What's with that face? I thought you were sparring with Lightningrunner at Battle Beach."

"What happened to you?" Vervaincough asked, peering at Whitepaw's sandy legs.

"Estherfern is with Lightningrunner," Shrewflame whispered, sticking his head in the middle of the three cats. "We need codekeepers. Right now." Leathermask's eyes slowly widened. Puddlewhisper's claws poked into the sand. Vervaincough's breath caught.

"What happened?" Leathermask gulped.

"Just come on," Shrewflame muttered, flicking his tail back to the exit. "Do you want to start a riot or start investigating?"

"Take me to my sister," Puddlewhisper snapped, jumping to her paws. Shrewflame started back to the exit with Puddlewhisper beside him. Leathermask and Vervaincough hurried to follow while Whitepaw scrambled to catch up with his brother.

"Whitepaw, stay here," Shrewflame sighed as Asterblaze and Drumtooth left their task and stalked toward the tense group. "You don't need to go back there. Someone should stay here to explain."

"I want to stay with you," Whitepaw whined softly.

"Just tell them what they need to know," Shrewflame said, straightening up under the growing attention of the Clan. "You'll be alright." Shrewflame didn't wait to finish talking; he continued onto the exit. Nervous energy propelled Puddlewhisper, Vervaincough, and Leathermask after him. Whitepaw's still wet fur dripped onto the sand, forming tiny balls underfoot.

"Whitepaw, you look terrified," Carnationspeckle whined, jogging up to her grandson with Rapidleaf at her side. "You're a mess! What's got you and Shrewflame hurrying into camp like this?"

"I…" Whitepaw gulped. "She…" Tell them what they need to know. I'm going to keep you safe. It's not your fault.

"Maybe start from the beginning," Asterblaze suggested, abandoning his crafts to join the small but growing group. Drumtooth squinted at Whitepaw and the sand glued to his fur. Yes, start from the beginning. Work through the story. Tell them what they need to know.

"Since Mr. Billowhaze is still fighting his allergies," Whitepaw finally gulped, "Shrewflame took me out to spar in the water. Ms. Estherfern joined us to check if we got too cold, and Ms. Lightningrunner asked to come along. Me and Shrewflame were sparring and swimming, and Ms. Lightningrunner was on the shore with Ms. Estherfern. She… Ms. Lightningrunner said she heard something in the trees, and she went to check. When she didn't come back, we got worried, and we followed her, and, and…"

"She's dead," Drumtooth said, voice low and tight. Carnationspeckle's breath tightened. Rapidleaf couldn't stop herself from gasping. Asterblaze tensed. "Lightningrunner's dead, isn't she? You would have brought her back if she was just hurt." Whitepaw begged StarClan to let him sink into the sand. Instead, he closed his eyes and nodded.

The few cats still in the Clan would soon rush about and search for Lightningrunner's siblings, scattered on patrols throughout the territory. They would find Downstar and Oilstripe, grimly informing them that yet another Clanmate had been found dead; this one, they'd soon learn, with a huge and bloody bite on the back of her neck like a sloppy hunt.

For now though, Whitepaw stood in the shock of it all, sand heavy on his legs, images of Lightningrunner frozen against his eyes.

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

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

(Puddlewhisper: 55, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Vervaincough: 24, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

(Leathermask: 37, male, warrior, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

(Carnationspeckle: 91, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Asterblaze: 36, male, caretaker, thoughtful, constantly fiddling with tools)

(Drumtooth: 37, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Rapidleaf: 107, female, warrior, lonesome, prophecy interpreter)

Scaleripple, Anchovystrike, Yellowburst, and Boughfur hear desperate screams coming from the seashore.

[Image ID: Anchovystrike, Yellowburst, Boughfur, and Scaleripple lead an old gray and white tom with yellow eyes along. Under Anchovystrike, it reads LEVEL UP! DEEP STARCLAN BOND → UNSHAKABLE STARCLAN LINK. Under the stranger, it reads NEW PLAYER: WASHINGTON, 217, MALE, NERVOUS, GOOD MEDIATOR, + CONDITION: BROKEN BONE. Under Boughfur, it reads LEVEL UP! GOOD CLIMBER → GREAT CLIMBER.]

---

"I heard Lemmy say the killer bit into her neck twice to make sure she was dead," Brightreed whispered to Wolverineheart in the warrior's den. "It's no wonder Whitepaw's been moping in the apprentice's den. Part of me just wants to hide in camp too!"

"You make it sound like he's just being sour," Wolverineheart huffed. "He's barely started his training. He could have been killed instead of Lightningrunner, you know! He's young, he's allowed to be scared."

"I'm not trying to insult him. I'm saying I'm scared too. Thinking about Lightningrunner makes my scar itch."

"It has to be a RippleClan cat, right? I haven't heard of any foreign scent by Battle Beach."

"I guess. But who would want to kill Lightningrunner?"

"Lightningrunner and Potterypool. You can't expect it to be a coincidence that they both died like that."

"I still don't know who would kill either of them. I don't think we should guess, either. That would be the worst gossip you could share. What are we supposed to do if we can't trust each other?"

"…maybe the killer has a thing for gingers. Oilstripe should watch her back."

"Wolverineheart! Scaleripple is sleeping right over there!"

Scaleripple was not, in fact, sleeping.

Yes, he laid in his nest, carefully barren of any irritating leathers, his graduation gift from Tempestshade carefully tucked by his paws, but Scaleripple was not asleep. His blue eyes were open, but turned away from Wolverineheart and Brightreed's nests. Scaleripple's claws poked at his rattle. He was Lightningrunner's big brother. It was supposed to be his responsibility to protect his little sisters, even though their chatty, gossipy behavior was stranger than what laid in the depths of the ocean. Yet Lightningrunner found her end just beyond RippleClan camp while Scaleripple was tied up in the medicine den with a pounding headache. What was he supposed to do with that? Even though dawn consumed the territory and urged the Clan out of the giant warrior's den and onto their duties, Scaleripple lingered, pretending to catch a little more sleep. What else could he do?

"Scaleripple?" Scaleripple sat up, spooking Wolverineheart and Brightreed. Yellowburst stood outside the warrior's den, tail swaying as she waited. "Are we still going on patrol?" Oh. Right. Downstar wanted Scaleripple to lead a patrol south to clean up the shoreline. The investigation into Lightningrunner's death the day before had to abandon their search for the killer early due to a violent late autumn storm that left the beaches covered in debris. Scaleripple was supposed to lead Anchovystrike, Boughfur, and Yellowburst at dawn. How long had they been waiting for him?

"I'll join you outside camp," Scaleripple promised. Wolverineheart and Brightreed shifted uncomfortably, their dark gossip staining their hearts with guilt. Good. Scaleripple groomed his strange white spots as Yellowburst left his sight. He plucked his jay feathers from his nest and wove them into his tail, focusing on the gentle ritual. Feathers were a good sensation, the opposite of fur and leather. They were a comfort in such dark times. Lightningrunner loved them, and so Scaleripple loved them even more.

Scaleripple left Wolverineheart and Brightreed to wallow in their embarrassment. Yellowburst, Boughfur, and Anchovystrike waited for him by the camp entrance. The sand gently coated the bottom of Scaleripple's paws, still wet from last night's freezing rain. Scaleripple simply flicked his tail for his Clanmates to follow him out into the late dawn.

The coast south of RippleClan camp was riddled with debris. A rotting wolffish stunk up the rocks that formed the southern beaches. Broken wood like the planks that formed the shipwreck floated in the waves and caught against the rocks that stuck out of the foam, watery reflections of the rocks that lined camp. Sticks, grass, and seaweed polluted the usual gray, pristine image of the beach. At least the sky offered a glimpse of peace. The stormclouds broke apart into gray sheets against a yellow sky.

"I think a ship sunk," Boughfur noted as the patrol approached the beach. "I've never seen so much wood on the shoreline before. We should bring it back to camp! There are a lot of planks on the shipwreck that could be replaced. Who knows, maybe we can open up space for another den in there!"

"Yellowburst," Anchovystrike chuckled. He hopped across the rocks to the beached wolffish. He hooked his paw under the wolffish's jaw. "Wouldn't it be funny to take this back to camp and claim it was Wolfgaze's reflection?" Yellowburst snickered with Anchovystrike.

"This isn't the day for jokes," Scaleripple huffed. His tone had more bite than he expected. Anchovystrike dropped the fish. Yellowburst crept away to the debris. Distant seabirds filled the silence that followed.

"Scaleripple, we'll tear our fur out if we don't unwind," Anchovystrike pointed out. "There's nothing any of us can do about… you know. Let's just clean up the beach and try to keep the mood light." Scaleripple hummed under his breath. Boughfur and Yellowburst shared an awkward glance.

"Why don't Yellowburst and I collect the usable wood and make a pile?" Boughfur suggested when Scaleripple refused to give an actual response. "We can have Mitespark and Venturedapple carry them home later."

"Go ahead," Scaleripple said, hopping down to the beach. He grabbed a chunk of grass and dragged it to the treeline where the mice and squirrels could use it for nesting material. Anchovystrike dug a hole to bury the dead wolffish. Boughfur and Yellowburst quietly debated the best way to carry the heavier planks out of the rocks and onto solid ground. Scaleripple tuned them out, ears pricked to the eager waves at his side.

As Scaleripple worked, his thoughts drifted back to his family. What was he supposed to do for them? He wanted to protect them, but was that feeling any stronger than his desire to protect everyone in RippleClan? What would Tempestshade have thought of the last moon? Did Oilstripe or Troutpool ever see their spirit wandering camp, checking in on their littermates or sitting beside Scaleripple? Scaleripple couldn't help but sneer at the thought of how RippleClan would treat Tempestshade if they were still alive. Would the Clan blame them for Potterypool or Lightningrunner's deaths?

Scaleripple paused with a large chunk of seaweed in his mouth. His pelt prickled as old memories of Tempestshade's mistreatment itched at his chest. He knew the cats in his Clan were good cats, or at least tried to be. Yet it seemed that even the wiser among them still gave into superstition and overcaution. They avoided being alone with Tempestshade. They didn't know how to spend time with Scaleripple without sharing tongues. Scaleripple even saw how cats like Carnationspeckle and Elmsprout flinched when Yarrowclaw raised her voice, as though any sign of overeagerness was a step away from the brown and white molly dissolving into madness. Wasn't there something Scaleripple could do for cats like that? The only answer he received was the gentle churning of the ocean and far-off, feral screaming.

Wait. Screaming?

Scaleripple stared out into the sea. Larger planks and chunks of a now sunken ship bobbed along the water. Some pieces had bright swaths of paint splashed over the wood, turning the planks green and yellow. One large bicolored wreck tumbled with the waves. A soaked gray and white cat clung to the wood, claws embedded in their one saving grace. Bleary yellow eyes stared at Scaleripple and the RippleClan patrol. The drowned cat screeched with all the strength they had left as a wave splashed over their makeshift raft.

Scaleripple didn't realize he was running until he plunged into the icy ocean, salt stinging his eyes. His feathers floated to the yellowish-gray surface. He breached the water with a large gasp. The drowning cat was a few bear-lengths away. Scaleripple paddled, letting the ebb carry him closer to the stranger and pushing against the flow.

"Careful, Scaleripple!" Boughfur yowled from the shore just as Scaleripple reached the ocean's victim. He could barely smell the stranger's tom-scent through the salt. The stranger's soaked tail smacked Scaleripple's face. Scaleripple shivered so violently, he almost slipped under the raft. Yet that gave him an idea. He paddled around the drowning tom and shoved his head against the broken, ragged edge. The raft rolled toward the shore, even as the water pushed it every other way. Scaleripple's head hurt with the raft's pressure, but it was better than someone else's wet fur against his skin.

Anchovystrike scrambled into the water. As the ocean floor climbed to meet the surface, the pressure of the waves eased. Yellowburst splashed beside Anchovystrike. She grabbed the edge of the raft and stabilized it. Anchovystrike grabbed the terrified tom by the scruff and lifted him onto the rocks. Scaleripple shoved the raft aside and crawled to dry land.

Now that the salt wasn't blinding Scaleripple, he could better see just who he rescued. The tom was old; his white chin was coated in aged gray and his eyes sagged. Had he not been soaked clean through, he would have been a fluffy old tom. He coughed up water and shivered hard enough to spray the warriors surrounding him.

"You're on dry land," Anchovystrike promised as Yellowburst licked the tom's fur the wrong way. "You've landed in RippleClan territory."

"The crew," the old tom croaked, staring back at the sea. "The ship! The storm!"

"We have cats who can take care of you," Yellowburst said, coughing out wet hair. The old tom's eyes shook, mouth half open and ears pushed back.

"They're gone," he moaned. "They're all gone."

"Were there other cats on your ship?" Boughfur asked. "Maybe they washed up somewhere else along the coast."

"Not cats," the tom whined. "My humans. I caught rats for them. They're gone! They're sunk!" He pushed himself off the rocks, but his back right leg gave out under him. He yowled, spasming as he smacked back onto the rocks.

"That looks broken," Scaleripple muttered as Anchovystrike and Yellowburst hurried to help.

"We could make a splint from all this wood," Boughfur realized, dragging over a small plank. "That should help him walk back to camp. Let me go find something to tie it on." Boughfur adjusted the dry flowers in her fur and hurried off to the forest. Scaleripple stared at the shipwrecked tom as he clawed at the stones, moaning. Loving humans, those strange, unknowable beacons of intelligence and craft, did not seem much different from how Scaleripple loved his family, or how they loved him.

"What's your name?" Scaleripple asked the soaked tom. The tom swallowed his grief and blinked saltwater out of his eyes.

"They named me Washington," he sighed. Scaleripple nodded softly, shoulders tense.

"I'm sorry, Washington," Scaleripple said.

For what else could be said? What else could be done?

(Brightreed: 21, male, warrior, righteous, student of art)

(Wolverineheart: 21, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Scaleripple: 42, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Yellowburst: 20, female, caretaker, adventurous, good mediator)

(Boughfur: 21, female, historian, righteous, great climber)

(Anchovystrike: 24, male, warrior, playful, unshakable StarClan link)

(Washington: 217, male, elder, nervous, good mediator)

[the-gender-mage]

Nightflamelexic ✧ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A gender related to the word nightflame.

Starmagelexic ✧ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A gender related to the word starmage.

Storyscapelexic ✧ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A gender related to the word storyscape.

Asterblazelexic ✧ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A gender related to the word asterblaze.

Asterflamelexic ✧ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A gender related to the word asterflame.

[tusserdoodle]

Asterblaze my girl. She has a lovers to enemies arc with her mate and I love that for her

She is small and soft but can kick your butt

[rippleclan]

Asterpaw and Gentlestar!

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 75

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

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

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

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

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

Honeybuzz helps the three star-blessed apprentices.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you call?” the spirit groaned.

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

“Explain.”

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

“You are searching for a cure.”

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

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

“Why not?” Wolfpaw whimpered.

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

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

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

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

“Elaborate.” 

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

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

“Offer the dead—”

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

“No?” the spirit spat.

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

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

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

“But they will be cured.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t know,” she said softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you want to learn?” 

“Thunderpaw makes it fun!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Thunderpaw: 7, female, caretaker apprentice,

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 88

Mitespark gets flustered when Wolverineheart compliments her woodworking skill.

[Image ID: Ravenweaver and Mitespark watch Wolverineheart go. Ravenweaver says, "You would be cute together!"]

(Ravenweaver: 23, female, artisan, nervous, den builder, very clever)

(Mitespark: 30, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)

(Wolverineheart: 20, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

Despite an awkward assessment, Shrewpaw recovers from his bruises and is named Shrewflame for his fierce confidence. Thundergale considers herself lucky to have mentored such a great cat.

[Image ID: Shrewflame is now an adult! Under him, it reads LEVEL UP! SHREWPAW → SHREWFLAME, COMPETITIVE → LOYAL, NEVER SITS STILL → FAST AS THE WIND. Thundergale watches proudly in the back.]

(Shrewflame: 12, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Thundergale: 20, female, teacher, adventurous, good hunter, good speaker)

Halibutdusk is worried about the storm overhead, but continues on their date with Clammask anyway. As they walk along the river, a flash flood overcomes them. Halibutdusk clings to the stepping stones, but Clammask is washed to sea.

[Image ID: Halibutdusk and Clammask wander under a cloudy sky, where the ghosts of Twinekit, Locustseeker, Burdockcreek, and Rustshade watch and wait.]

(Halibutdusk: 80, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Clammask: 82, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Rustshade: 102, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Burdockcreek: 40, male, historian, competitive, lore keeper)

(Locustseeker: 12, nonbinary (they/them), historian apprentice, troublesome, moss-ball hunter)

(Twinekit: 2, female, kit, noisy, quick to help)

Wildclaw and Honeybuzz grieve. Honeybuzz wonders how Stormjump is doing.

[Image ID: Wildclaw talks to her littermate, with + CONDITION: GRIEVING under her. On the other side, Stormjump speaks with Downstar and Carnationspeckle. Honeybuzz watches them both, + CONDITION: GRIEVING written under him.]

---

Stars damn it all.

Honeybuzz knew it was natural for a kit to sit vigil for their parents as the latter grew old and their fur turned gray, but Honeybuzz still felt too young to lose Clammask too. And this time, there was no clear culprit he could blame. Halibutdusk wasn't like Rapidleaf, they didn't shove Clammask into the water, and they didn't run from whatever role they played in Clammask's death either. They even offered their freedom up to Venturedapple and Cobaltchaser, willing to sit through a trial and sort out the details of the incident. Not that the outcome wasn't clear, though; this was no living cat's fault. Perhaps Clammask's littermates decided to call her home. Perhaps the All-Seeing prevented any warnings from reaching the clerics' ears so their grand plan could unfold.

Whoever decided Clammask would die that day, stars damn them.

At least the Clan had a body to sit vigil for. While on patrol, hoping that Clammask found her way back to shore, Rapidleaf, Asterblaze, and Tallowheart found Clammask's body drifting along the edge of the beach. Troutpool and Oilstripe mournfully reported Clammask's spirit escorting the body to camp before departing with Twinekit, Locustseeker, and Burdockcreek. Weevilsight and Carnationspeckle dried her body and made sure she looked her best. The last child of RippleClan's first litter, departed for the stars.

Honeybuzz muttered along to Troutpool and Estherfern's ritual as he, Splashtuft, Leathermask, and Drumtooth pressed their noses into their mother's pelt one last time. To the side, Wildclaw and Halibutdusk leaned into each other, each bearing the other's grief on their backs. A long pelt covered Halibutdusk, fighting off the chill of the autumn water. Yet Honeybuzz was the one who couldn't stop shivering. Stormjump, Carnationspeckle, and Downstar built a large fire to the side of the vigil—a dash of warmth to send Clammask up to Silverpelt. It did not calm Honeybuzz's body.

Vervaincough, Potterypool, and Moontide curled up along Clammask's back. Vervaincough's breath itched at Honeybuzz's neck. Neither Clammask's sons nor her daughters wanted to be the first to leave their mother behind and embrace the night that had slowly enveloped them over the course of the vigil. Yet when Honeybuzz dared look up from Clammask's still-damp fur, he could see Oilstripe, Mosspounce, and Slushtrail patiently waiting for their turn to mourn. Honeybuzz kneaded his mother's still belly. Could he really leave her behind? Would he see her the next time he visited StarClan's Shrine? Whatever the case, Honeybuzz couldn't stay with his siblings forever. Clammask wasn't just important to them.

Honeybuzz pried himself away from Clammask's body with a pitiful moan. His cicada wing necklace left an imprint in her fur. His paws mindlessly carried him away, leaving room for Oilstripe to mourn her little sister.

"Honeybuzz, wait," Leathermask whined, lifting his head from the vigil.

"Let him go, Leather," Splashtuft sighed. "I… I think I need to leave, too." Splashtuft shoved himself up and hurried to the warrior's den. Billowhaze and Tallowheart, who quietly shared tongues outside the den, followed their fellow historian in, ready to offer whatever comfort they could manage.

"I'm not leaving," Drumtooth promised, pressing closer to Leathermask as Mosspounce found his opening to mourn.

Honeybuzz wandered toward Stormjump and the growing fire. He had no real agenda, no idea what he needed, but in the bottom of his heart, he knew Stormjump could provide it. Stormjump, to her credit, was the first to notice Honeybuzz's approach. She set a piece of kindling to the side of the flames and turned to see who joined her, Carnationspeckle, and Downstar in their work.

"Honeybuzz," Stormjump cooed. "Come warm up. You look wet." Stormjump moved aside so Honeybuzz could creep closer to the fire. His shivering eased as Carnationspeckle gently groomed his fur the wrong way.

"What do you need, Honeybuzz?" Downstar asked.

"You tell me," Honeybuzz scoffed, resting his head on the warm sand.

"It's late, but we could prepare a simple stew," Carnationspeckle suggested. "Something with heart-healing herbs to warm our bones."

"The Clan already had their evening meal," Honeybuzz sighed. "Don't waste food for the sunhigh meal."

"Take it from an older cat, Honeybuzz," Downstar sighed, eyes trailing to Clammask's body. "A loss like this is going to hurt, and you won't be the same cat you were this morning. But eventually the good memories will pad around that loss, dampen the sound of the grief. It'll be there, and it will still hurt. But you'll have more and more joy to draw strength from, if you allow yourself to hold onto it." Carnationspeckle licked her former mentor's shoulder and rested her chin on her back. Honeybuzz just closed his eyes. That little speech seemed more for Downstar than for him.

He never told her. Honeybuzz never told Clammask the truth about Scrubmask and Rapidleaf. She knew now, finally reunited with her first mate. She knew about Honeybuzz's silence. Did she understand his intentions? Did she see the chaos the truth would bring? Or did she only see her son, the liar, the secret keeper, the cat who let a killer share the same den as his brothers and sisters without so much as a meow of protest?

"It's alright to cry, Honeybuzz," Stormjump sighed, nuzzling Honeybuzz's neck. Honeybuzz didn't realize his breath had begun to hitch. "Maybe you should get some sleep. Want me to walk you to the medicine den?" Honeybuzz swallowed hard and nodded. He forced himself up, but this time, Stormjump was there, leaning against Honeybuzz, catching his weight. The pair sank into the sand. Honeybuzz didn't care to wipe it off his paws when he entered his den.

He tumbled into his nest with a pitiful mew. Stormjump gently grabbed the leather cord of his cicada wing necklace and lifted it off his neck. She placed the necklace beside his nest.

"I'll make sure I'm in charge of the sunhigh meal tomorrow," Stormjump promised. "I'll make Clammask's favorite meal. Herb-pelted bird fillets. Sleep well, Honeybuzz. I'm sorry about today." Stormjump's tail waved gently as she turned out of the den.

Honeybuzz couldn't stop himself from falling asleep, a weight settling over his back. Yet as he did so, he could have sworn he heard one last thing as Stormjump left.

"I love you."

(Honeybuzz: 36, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Wildclaw: 80, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Halibutdusk: 80, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Leathermask: 36, male, warrior, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

(Splashtuft: 36, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)

(Drumtooth: 36, trans male, caretaker, loyal, great hunter, clever)

(Stormjump: 19, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Downstar: 147, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Carnationspeckle: 90, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

While participating in a battle training holiday with other warriors and caretakers in LynxClan territory, Mosspounce, Yarrowclaw, and Brightreed come across a cougar’s den; the same cougar that once decimated LynxClan. The trio lead the celebrating warriors to kill the cougar once and for all, with Mosspounce delivering a deadly blow, but his eyes are clawed up as a result.

[Image ID: Mosspounce, Brightreed, and Yarrowclaw follow bloody pawprints. Under Mosspounce, it says + CONDITION: DAMAGED EYES.]

(Mosspounce: 49, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Brightreed: 20, male, warrior, righteous, student of art)

(Yarrowclaw: 23, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 80

Honeybuzz recovers in time to give Weevilsight her name. However, while the other clerics commune with StarClan and Weevilsight sits her vigil outside, she's attacked. While she can't identify the attackers, she reeks of SlugClan.

[Image ID: Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Estherfern gather around Weevilsight. Weevilsight yowls, "Finally!" Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! WEEVILPAW → WEEVILSIGHT, CURIOUS ABOUT STARCLAN → DEEP STARCLAN BOND, + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL. Under Honeybuzz, it says - CONDITION: TORN EAR.]

(Weevilsight: 15, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Troutpool: 41, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Honeybuzz: 28, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Estherfern: 114, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

RippleClan welcomes a new batch of graduates: Yellowburst, Stormjump, Thundergale, Boughfur, and Wolverineheart. When her vigil is through, Thundergale has a strange proposition.

[Image ID: Yellowburst, Stormjump, Thundergale, Boughfur, and Wolverineheart stand together, the latter three sporting adult sprites. Under Yellowburst, it says LEVEL UP! YELLOWPAW → YELLOWBURST, COLD → ADVENTUROUS, QUICK TO MAKE PEACE → GOOD MEDIATOR. Under Stormjump, it says LEVEL UP! STORMPAW → STORMJUMP, LOVES TO EAT → INCREDIBLE COOK. Under Thundergale, it reads LEVEL UP! THUNDERPAW → THUNDERGALE, MOSS-BALL HUNTER → GREAT HUNTER, + NEW SKILL: GOOD SPEAKER. Under Boughfur, it says LEVEL UP! BOUGHPAW → BOUGHFUR, CONSTANTLY CLIMBING → GOOD CLIMBER. Under Wolverineheart, it says LEVEL UP! WOLVERINEPAW → WOLVERINEHEART, COMPASSIONATE → TROUBLESOME, ALWAYS ASKING QUESTIONS → STUDENT OF SCIENCE.]

---

Thundergale couldn't have imagined sitting vigil alone. She pitied cats who graduated without their littermates; how could they manage a night alone, roaming the edges of camp, pondering the enormity of adulthood with no escape? Of course, Thundergale was a bit privileged when it came to guarding camp. With her hearing loss, it simply wasn't safe for Thundergale to be alone on guard duty. There were too many things she could miss. But that just made nights like her vigil better, because she always had someone at her side.

Thundergale could tell that Yellowburst and Wolverineheart itched to speak as dawn showed its first beams. They padded around the camp entrance, a dozen thoughts trapped in their mouths. Stormjump stared at the sunrise, constantly glancing back to camp for someone to end the long night. Boughfur was the only one to sit tall and proper, opposite of Thundergale. Stormjump and Yellowburst had built a small fire outside camp to fight off the freezing snow around them, but now that fire was little more than smolders.

"Good morning!" Asterblaze and Waspdawn slipped out of camp, pelts fluffed and eyes bright. Yellowburst and Stormjump slunk to their father's side, bunting heads and purring. Thundergale peered into camp. Estherfern sat outside the medicine den, tail tucked over her paws, ear flicking gently in the soft winter breeze.

"Did you hear me, Thundergale?" Asterblaze asked. Thundergale turned back as what little heat remaining inside her went to her ears. Wolverineheart and Boughfur danced around one another, but Thundergale couldn't hear their celebration. "I said you're free to speak again."

"Thank you," Thundergale said. Her voice still echoed in her head, but it seemed quieter when it escaped.

"Let's find Sandpaw," Stormjump told her sister as the pair followed their father into camp. "I want to brag…" Her voice grew too far for Thundergale to hear the rest of the comment. Asterblaze followed the family through. Boughfur and Wolverineheart suddenly pulled themselves from their little party and pounced on Thundergale.

"No more flea duty!" Wolverineheart signed, almost too excited to sign clearly.

"Who do you think made our graduation presents?" Thundergale wondered. She paused mid-sign with a huge yawn.

"Let's go to sleep and find out," Boughfur quickly signed, her paw-work sloppy as she tried to head for the camp entrance. She led her sisters into RippleClan, licking her cold paws.

Oilstripe organized a sunrise patrol by the Shiprock with Lemmy, Cobaltpaw, and Puddlewhisper. Ravenweaver, Mitespark, and Clammask argued over the Clan's first meal beside the unlit stove while Paleseed did her best to mediate the disagreement. Yarrowclaw rushed past Thundergale, kicking up sandy snow in her rush to get out of camp. Trumpetspore and Mosspounce rekindled the bonfire in the center of camp, dulled after a peaceful night. Even though Thundergale eagerly ached to rest in her new nest, she soaked in the life of her Clan. There was so much to learn from every single cat, so many skills and tasks a cat could master, even outside of their chosen role. Joining RippleClan was the best decision Estherfern ever made.

Speaking of Estherfern, the brown molly waved her daughters toward her. Boughfur and Thundergale glanced at each other while Wolverineheart squinted to see what was happening. No one dared make the first move. Spikecrash's scent drifted closer. Thundergale spotted the scarred mediator first and drew her sisters' attention. Spikecrash strolled up to Thundergale's ear, stretching to reach her.

"I'll lead you over there," Spikecrash promised. She stepped back and winked at the trio. She strolled toward the medicine den, tail high. Thundergale took a deep breath. She, Wolverineheart, and Boughfur made their way toward their mother.

"I'm proud of you three," Estherfern said when the group approached. Spikecrash quickly stepped away, cheekily glancing at the new graduates as she left them. Estherfern paused before she continued. She slowly made the sign for "proud", flicking her ears toward Thundergale one by one. Truthfully, it was closer to the sign for "dig" with how slow she went, but Thundergale stayed quiet. She was trying, after all.

"Thanks, Mom," Wolverineheart sighed, signing while she spoke.

"How's Brightpaw?" Boughfur asked, glancing behind Estherfern.

"The dog spit and bird blood in the wound puts Brightpaw at risk for severe infection," Estherfern explained. "He's resting right now, but I'm watching him closely."

"You're watching him?" Wolverineheart scoffed. Even her signs looked dismissive. "I thought medicine wasn't a priestess's domain."

"It isn't," Estherfern admitted, shoulders shifting under her daughters' scrutiny. "It is a cleric's domain, however. If I'm a cleric by name, I should be able to help my fellow clerics in all aspects of their work."

"You know medicine now?" Thundergale asked. She focused on the sign for "medicine"; a paw, raised slightly, and spinning over the other paw like a cleric grinding herbs.

"I've asked Weevilsight to help me," Estherfern admitted. "Unlike some cats, she won't make my lessons more difficult than they should be."

"But why?" Boughfur asked. "Why learn now?"

"My pride got in the way of everything," Estherfern sighed, making the same sign as earlier with her ears. "No more. I've killed my old habits. I'm learning to be a new cat, and hopefully a new mother." Learning… Estherfern really was learning a lot. Medicine, Clan-sign, motherhood, listening; it was so much like the informal second apprenticeships many cats pursued after graduation. Yet Estherfern had to pursue a lot of this knowledge on her own, hoping others would give her a second chance and show an old molly a new way to see the world. What if there was someone in the Clan dedicated to helping cats like Estherfern?

"Wolverine," Thundergale asked slowly, glancing toward the leader's den. "Can you help me? I need some translation."

"Can it be after we sleep?" Wolverineheart asked, words lost in a yawn.

"Yes, I should let you rest," Estherfern coughed, stepping back into the medicine den. "We can speak more later. If you want."

"I think I do," Thundergale stammered, "but Wolverineheart, I really need a translator right now, before Downstar leaves camp."

"I'll help, Thunder," Boughfur chirped, adjusting her forget-me-not decor as Estherfern hid a purr and returned to the shadows of the medicine den. Thundergale nudged her dark brown sister toward the leader's den, skirting around Lemmy's departing patrol while Wolverineheart gleefully hurried to the warrior's den for a well-deserved rest.

"Downstar?" Thundergale called into the leader's den. The gray-muzzled leader rested in her nest, still grooming herself. Halibutdusk and Wildclaw lounged beside her, talking too quiet for Thundergale to hear.

"Thundergale, Boughfur," Downstar said, nodding to each new graduate. "I thought you would be settled in your nests by now. I told Asterblaze he could relieve you." Downstar's voice weakened at a few essential moments, but Boughfur was there to help. She instinctually moved in front of Thundergale and signed what Downstar said. She had become as skilled in Clan-sign as Thundergale.

"You did," Thundergale said, "but there's something I wanted to talk to you about before I lost my words." Downstar studied Thundergale for a moment. Then she muttered something to her kits, who touched noses with their mother and slipped around Thundergale. When they were gone, Downstar nodded for Thundergale to continue. Thundergale's throat tightened. She turned to Boughfur, her ideas trapped. Boughfur balanced on her hind legs, ready to support her sister with whatever she needed. Thundergale forced herself to breath.

"I enjoyed my training as a caretaker," Thundergale signed. Boughfur stammered for a moment, catching up with her sister's message. Downstar glanced between Thundergale and Boughfur as the former spoke and the latter explained. "Drumtooth was a good mentor. I like caring for others. In some ways, though, Mummichogleap was the more important mentor. Without his lessons, I would struggle to explain myself. I would lose my words because I couldn't hear them. I'd fail to speak to others because I could not hear them. I'm so grateful to Mummichogleap for teaching me Clan-sign. When I came back from my lessons, I began to realize, my favorite thing to do wasn't tending the fire or watching kits or any of the typical caretaker tasks. I loved teaching.

"I've taught all my littermates how to use Clan-sign, and my mother is starting to learn as well. Stormjump, Yellowburst, and Sandpaw wanted to learn as well. Drumtooth is able to sign the most important words, and I've had a few cats ask me for the signs of specific phrases. I loved all of that. I want to do that for the rest of my life.

"Downstar, I think the Clans are missing something. Historians remember our history and study the world. Warriors learn the most complex battle techniques. Codekeepers memorize every detail of the code. But it all rests on the mentor to teach their apprentice those skills. If the apprentice wants to learn other skills, they have to ask for favors. They have to hope someone will let them study in a second apprenticeship. What if we made learning easier? What if cats could come to a teacher whenever they wanted to learn a new skill? Mentors could get help for their apprentices without insecurity. Kits could learn basic skills as they decide on their futures. Downstar, I don't want to be a caretaker. I want to be a teacher."

"Are you suggesting an entirely new position in the Clan?" Downstar finally asked after Boughfur finished translating.

"Teachers could learn a bit about every position," Thundergale explained. "I would know enough about most subjects to assist an apprentice during their training. I can learn the best ways to teach cats, young and old, so that anyone who wants to learn has someone to talk to. I want to teach cats more Clan-sign, but I also want to teach codekeepers about fire safety. I want to teach artistic warriors about making paint. I want to teach antsy artisans better hunting skills. I want the Clans to know anything they want to know."

"What you're suggesting is a major change to RippleClan's lifestyle," Downstar pointed out. "You may step on more than a few mentors' paws."

"I think they'll like the help," Thundergale said aloud, confidence restored. "I have ideas, Downstar. Can I try?" Downstar tappd her paw on the edge of her nest. Her whiskers twitched, deep in thought. Thundergale couldn't help but crouch as her leader decided her fate.

"Get some rest," Downstar finally said. "We can discuss the details of this… teacher position once you've slept."

"Thank you, Downstar!" Thundergale gasped, almost flying off the ground.

"I still want you to fulfill your caretaker duties while we see if this new role is viable," Downstar warned, "but RippleClan is the Clan of new opportunities. I can tell you're earnest. Good luck, Thundergale. Now, both of you, go to your nests. Ravenweaver made you both a down-stuffed head rest." Boughfur and Thundergale both dipped their heads to the tortoiseshell leader. Boughfur brushed against Thundergale and nudged her toward the warrior's den. Thundergale took the lead. She wouldn't be surprised if she couldn't sleep.

Thundergale was going to make history!

(Thundergale: 12, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)

(Yellowburst: 11, female, caretaker, adventurous, good mediator)

(Wolverineheart: 12, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Stormjump: 11, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Boughfur: 12, female, historian, righteous, good climber)

(Asterblaze: 27, male, caretaker, thoughtful, constantly fiddling with tools)

(Waspdawn: 46, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Estherfern: 114, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Spikecrash: 55, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Downstar: 139, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

Yellowburst gets yellowcough, making the clerics wonder if it is an omen. Meanwhile, Shrewkit tells Ravenweaver to make a move on Brightpaw.

[Image ID: Yellowburst stands in the back, with + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH under her. Brightpaw and Venturedapple chat to the side. Brightpaw now has an adult sprite. Shrewkit says to Ravenweaver, "Talk to him!"]

(Yellowburst: 11, female, caretaker, adventurous, good mediator)

(Ravenweaver: 15, female, artisan, den builder, very clever)

(Shrewkit: 4, male, kit, bossy, never sits still)

(Brightpaw: 12, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Venturedapple: 68, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

Currentsmoke falls through melting ice on the Great Northern River and breaks his jaw.

[Image ID: Yarrowclaw, Anchovystrike, Moontide, and Leathermask watch Currentsmoke in the distance, who has + CONDITION: BROKEN JAW under him. Yarrowclaw yowls, "Current!"]

---

Yarrowclaw had been running herself into the ground over the last quarter moon. Anchovystrike hardly saw his sister in the warrior's den, or even in camp. She always seemed to be out on some patrol, like she was the only warrior in the Clan. Anchovystrike hadn't seen Yarrowclaw sharing tongues or rest at sunhigh. Maybe Yarrowclaw was simply worried about Weevilsight and Yellowburst. Maybe she didn't know her limits now that she was a warrior. Whatever it was, Anchovystrike needed to remind his sister how to breathe, and a trip to the river seemed like the best solution.

Anchovystrike led the way, bounding through the snow like a kit. Yarrowclaw kept pace with him in a swift jog. Currentsmoke, Leathermask, and Moontide trailed behind, chatting about nothing at all. No matter where Anchovystrike looked, he couldn't see a single sliver of ichor. The land was finally pure. That alone was reason to head out!

"Maybe we can build a snowcat, like when we were kits!" Anchovystrike suggested, nudging his sister.

"We need to build a fire first," Yarrowclaw chirped. "With how long you want to spend by the river, we need to keep warm. If we have a fire, we can fish and not worry about freezing."

"Or we can have fun," Moontide laughed, hurrying to Yarrowclaw's bad side. "This isn't a patrol, Yarrow! It's a day by the river. I want to go swimming!"

"But Yarrowclaw is right," Leathermask pointed out. "We do need a fire if we want to go into the water in this weather. Even our long fur isn't going to keep us warm enough, Moontide."

"Exactly," Yarrowclaw said, tail high. "I'll find dry sticks. We will have fun, but we'll also help the Clan, check the border, find some fish, socialize…" Yarrowclaw shook out her pelt and picked up speed. "Come on!" Anchovystrike and Moontide shot each other a cocky glance, but it was Currentsmoke who raced past them first, laughing.

"Last one to the river is crowfood!" he laughed. Anchovystrike eagerly took up the challenge. His paws skidded through the snow as he picked up momentum. Moontide howled, copying her friends.

The water along the sides of the river was completely frozen. The ice glistened and burned in the sun. Rocks jutted through the ice, forever sturdy against the passing seasons. Water still flowed through the heart of the river, icy cold and skittering across the surface-level stones.

A black and white molly paced along the ice, her clawed-out eye facing the Clan cats. Crow feathers lined her pelt. Yet as she turned in her pacing, Anchovystrike realized they weren't just decor, not in his eyes. The feathers seemed to grow out of the molly's pelt as naturally as fur. A few feathers constantly drifted off and fluttered onto the snow, stark black against white. Yet when Anchovystrike blinked, those fallen feathers would vanish. What supernatural sign was this? An old memory stirred inside him of the nursery, gathered around Lemmy as she explained the origins of her odd name and just where she came from. Those feathers meant something.

"Hello?" Anchovystrike called, trotting to a stop. Yarrowclaw and Currentsmoke stared at the stranger silently, whiskers flicking in curiosity. Leathermask's fur prickled as he slid in beside Anchovystrike. Moontide stumbled past Anchovystrike, taking a moment to recognize the outsider. The black and white molly lifted her head, staring at Anchovystrike.

"RippleClan?" she called. She sat at the river's edge, feathery tail covering her downy paws. She seemed half-bird when she faced the Clan cats head-on.

"We're RippleClan, yes," Anchovystrike said, approaching the riverside. "Those feathers… are you the Witch Hunter General?"

"I am," the molly said, dipping her head, "but not the one you know. My name is Pearl. Our old General, Madeline, has passed to the Other Side. I have taken command of the Witch Hunters. I seek to honor the peace between our colonies and introduce myself as a new leader to your Clans, as a sign of friendship."

"Well, thank you!" Currentsmoke chirped. "It's nice to meet you, Pearl. I'm Currentsmoke. Yarrowclaw and I met one of your Witch Hunters a while ago! He joined RippleClan. His name used to be Venture, did you know him?"

"I was wondering where he ran off to," Pearl hummed, gently cocking her head. "Did he tell you while he left the settlement?"

"He didn't go into specifics," Currentsmoke said. Yarrowclaw left the riverside and sniffed around the trees for suitable fire materials. "He just said he wanted to leave."

"He had a good reason to," Pearl admitted. "I'm afraid after Madeline's passing, Achilles and I argued about the future of the Witch Hunters. My ascension to Witch Hunter General was not clean. I can't say either of us were fair or just, and Venture was one of a few who left the settlement because of that. I hope RippleClan is a fairer place for him to live."

"Why don't we take you to Downstar?" Currentsmoke suggested. He stepped onto the snow-covered ice of the Great Northern River. "If you want to discuss better relations, she would be the cat to talk to!" The snow crunched under Currentsmoke's weight. He watched the flowing water closely, eyeing the thickness of the ice. He playfully wiggled his flank as he gauged how far he had to jump.

"Currentsmoke, don't show off," Moontide chuckled. Currentsmoke tensed and crouched against the ice and snow. His claws snapped onto the ice. He jumped over the open water, shoving a clump of snow into the current. His front paws smacked onto the ice, the snow providing the needed friction. His back paws, however, landed on the corner of the ice. A loud crack bounced through the trees.

"Current!" Yarrowclaw yowled, shoving past her Clanmates. The ice broke away from the shore. Currentsmoke's flank tumbled into the flowing water. The ice shard flipped and smacked Currentsmoke hard in the face. The ginger and white caretaker fell limp into the river. His body caught on the stepping stones. Blood seeped from his face and thundered toward the ocean.

"Careful, careful!" Leathermask yowled as Yarrowclaw raced toward the river. Pearl scrambled to Currentsmoke, grabbing his scruff. The Witch Hunter General lifted the tom's head out of the water. Anchovystrike's stomach dropped. A huge gash trailed over Currentsmoke's cheek and his teeth stabbed through his lips. His jaw dangled at an awkward angle.

Pearl and Yarrowclaw lifted Currentsmoke out of the freezing water and off the snowy ice. Anchovystrike shoved Pearl aside and took her place carrying his brother. Anchovystrike couldn't help but whimper at the smell of Currentsmoke's blood. Anchovystrike didn't care about the Witch Hunter General, he didn't care about Yarrowclaw's bad mood or the ruined plans.

He just had to make sure Currentsmoke didn't die.

(Anchovystrike: 15, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Yarrowclaw: 15, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

(Moontide: 15, female, warrior, playful, excellent teacher)

(Leathermask: 28, male, warrior, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

(Currentsmoke: 15, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Pearl: 61, female, Witch Hunter General, careful, explorer, clever)

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 70, Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s funny,” Anchovykit laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom,” Yarrowkit gasped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rippleclan]

Year 7 Allegiances

Leader:

Downstar - a gray/pale ginger tortoiseshell molly

131, wise, trusted advisor, very clever

Deputy:

Weedfoot - a rosetted silver molly

121, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter

Clerics:

Estherfern - a dark brown tabby molly

106, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker

Troutpool - a long-furred cream and white tabby molly

33, insecure, ghost sense

Honeybuzz- a gold and white rosette tom

20, daring, skilled toolsmith

Apprentice: Weevilpaw

Mediators:

Spikecrash - a masked dark brown tabby molly

47, wise, good speaker, lore keeper

Paleseed - a speckled silver molly

38, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws

Apprentice: Slushpaw

Artisans:

Rabbitjoy - a golden-brown smoke molly

109, charismatic, master weaver

Rattlepelt - a furless silver and white molly

55, thoughtful, leather artist

Mitespark - a black rosette molly

14, charismatic, great mediator

Apprentice: Ravenpaw

Historians:

Oilstripe - a ginger tabby molly

76, charismatic, ghost speaker

Lavendertwist - a ginger smoke and white tom

38, playful, great singer, good storyteller

Apprentice: Tallowpaw

Splashtuft - a long-furred, masked, gold and white tabby tom

20, adventurous, fast runner, student of art

Apprentice: Billowpaw

Codekeepers:

Lemmy - a dark gray/pale ginger tortie molly

48, cold, deep StarClan bond

Apprentice: Vervainpaw

Waspdawn - a rosetted golden and white tom with half a tail

38, strict, learner of lore, clue finder

Apprentice: Wolfpaw

Puddlewhisper - a speckled silver and white molly

38, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense

Apprentice: Silverpaw

Caretakers:

Carnationspeckle - a brown and white ticked molly

74, compassionate, fish-like swimmer

Clammask - a masked golden tabby molly

66, righteous, lore master, good teacher

Wildclaw - a gray tabby molly

64, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter

Apprentice: Potterypaw

Elmsprout - a long-furred silver smoke and white molly

39, charismatic, helpful insight

Apprentice: Currentpaw

Mosspounce - a black tabby tom

33, adventurous, talented fire-starter

Drumtooth - a dark gray tabby tom

20, loyal, great hunter, clever

Asterblaze - a silver tabby tom

19, thoughtful, constantly fiddling with tools

Warriors:

Darkkick - a long-furred dark gray bengal trans molly

132, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature

Rapidleaf - a golden brown tabby molly

90, lonesome, prophecy interpreter

Apprentice: Yarrowpaw

Halibutdusk - a gray tabby cat

64, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever

Apprentice: Anchovypaw

Trumpetspore - a dark gray tabby molly

33, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller

Scaleripple - a long-furred golden tom with vitiligo

25, lonesome, formidable fighter

Apprentice: Moonpaw

Leathermask - a long-furred, masked, golden brown and white tabby tom

20, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker

Apprentices:

Tallowpaw - a light brown and white ticked tabby tom

8, nervous, splashes in puddles

Slushpaw - a dark brown and white tabby molly

8, wise, quick witted, bats at string

Potterypaw - a dark ginger tabby molly

7, insecure, loves to sing

Moonpaw - a long-furred, white rosette molly

7, faithful, quick to help

Vervainpaw - a black tabby molly

7, ambitious, loves nature, quick to make peace

Weevilpaw - a dark gray/dark ginger tortie molly

7, adventurous, curious about StarClan

Ravenpaw - a black molly

7, nervous, picky nest builder, quick witted

Silverpaw - a gray smoke molly

7, strict, always asking questions, quick witted

Wolfpaw - a gray tabby molly

7, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words

Anchovypaw - a light brown and white tabby tom

7, playful, curious about StarClan

Currentpaw - a white and dark ginger smoke tom

7, loving, constantly climbing, has lots of ideas

Yarrowpaw - a dark brown and white molly

7, thoughtful, stares at fire

Billowpaw - a dark brown and white tom

7, thoughtful, active imagination

Elders:

James - a long-furred, dorsal-striped, pale ginger and white tom

148, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter

Kits:

Thunderkit - a brown molly

4, bullying, moss-ball hunter

Boughkit - a brown ticked molly

4, quiet, constantly climbing

Brightkit - a ginger tabby tom

4, shy, lover of art

Foamkit - a brown ticked molly

4, unruly, always wandering

Wolverinekit - a brown tabby molly

4, skittish, always asking questions

Yellowkit - a white and gold rosette molly

3, noisy, quick to make peace

Sandkit - a white tom

3, self-conscious, interested in Clan history

Littlekit - a speckled ginger and white tom

3, skittish, splashes in puddles

Stormkit - a masked ginger and white tabby molly

3, know-it-all, loves to eat

Lightningkit - a dorsal-striped ginger molly

2, self-conscious, always wandering

Cobaltkit - a black and white rosette molly

2, quiet, loves to eat