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rippleclan · 1 month ago

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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)

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rippleclan · 19 days ago

Text

RippleClan: Moon 79

James wanders out into the territory and is later found dead, a peaceful expression on his face.

[Image ID: Lightningpaw, Scaleripple, Lavendertwist, Cobaltpaw, Paleseed, Puddlewhisper, and Waspdawn sit vigil with their father's ghost in the center.]

(James: 155, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Lightningpaw: 9, female, historian apprentice, insecure, always wandering)

(Scaleripple: 32, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Lavendertwist: 45, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Cobaltpaw: 9, female, codekeeper apprentice, loyal, loves to eat)

(Paleseed: 45, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

(Puddlewhisper: 45, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense)

(Waspdawn: 45, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

Honeybuzz and Venturedapple get mistaken by SlugClan as intruders. Honeybuzz gets his ear torn, but Venturedapple has a serious claw wound.

[Image ID: Venturedapple and Honeybuzz hurry away from a ginger and white tom and a lilac and gold tortoiseshell. Under Venturedapple, it says + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL. Under Honeybuzz, it says + CONDITION: TORN EAR.]

---

Honeybuzz didn't know what to think of Venturedapple. Few in the Clan did. He hadn't participated much in Longest Night and mostly kept to himself and Lemmy (who had to vouch for him when Currentsmoke and Yarrowclaw brought him to camp). Why did he want to join RippleClan rather than protect the cats of the human settlement? No one knew. But when the LynxClan cleric, Aspenblotch, asked for a RippleClan cleric's assistance, who volunteered to accompany Honeybuzz? Venturedapple. So what could the pair talk about, as they made their way along the safe corridor from LynxClan to RippleClan?

Venturedapple took the lead. His bulky form left a path for Honeybuzz through the paw-deep snow. He seemed unbothered by the cold that made Honeybuzz want to run back to LynxClan's camp and never leave the fire's warmth. Honeybuzz carried a large leather pouch at his side, leather straps wrapping around his torso (a brilliant invention that came, shockingly, from the southern farm cats who studied their human neighbors and recruited WheatClan artisans, to Rattlepelt's envy). The sun was to their backs, lighting the trail home.

"It must have been easier to go home when you lived with the humans," Honeybuzz eventually said. "I heard they can clear the snow off their trails with giant tools."

"They do," Venturedapple said. StarClan, was his voice deep!

"Did you live in a human den?" Honeybuzz tried asking.

"Once," Venturedapple said. He didn't look back. Honeybuzz sighed softly. He licked his paws warm and studied the beautiful snowy forest around him.

Venturedapple stopped so suddenly that Honeybuzz smacked into his grand, fluffy tail. Honeybuzz collected himself quickly, his side-pouch loosening. Venturedapple stared into SlugClan territory, ears sharp. Honeybuzz followed his gaze. All he saw were snow-dusted trees and old pawprints.

"Back!" Venturedapple yowled, his entire body puffing up violently. Before Honeybuzz could react, two SlugClan warriors appeared out of nowhere. A fuzzy lilac warrior and a ginger and white tom tackled Venturedapple with a battle yowl. Venturedapple spun, claws swinging at his attackers. The lilac warrior dug into Venturedapple's tail. The three were a blur of fur, colors blending into each other. Blood splattered on the snow.

"Get off him!" Honeybuzz yowled. He snatched the ginger and white tom's scruff and pulled him off. The warrior spun at Honeybuzz. His claws caught onto Honeybuzz's ear. The fragile skin tore. Honeybuzz's blood dribbled down his face. He had never seen his own blood before. Something about the salty substance dripping onto the snow made Honeybuzz's stomach climb into his throat.

The SlugClan warrior reared back, ready to strike again. Yet his eyes bounced off the pouch at Honeybuzz's side. The bloodlust in his blue gaze vanished.

"Carvingfur!" he yowled, turning back to the scuffle. "Carvingfur, stop! They're RippleClan!" The lilac warrior, Carvingfur, let go of Venturedapple's leg. Chunks of Venturedapple's long tail fur floated in the breeze and stuck to the snow. His tail oozed red. Venturedapple hissed and kicked Carvingfur away.

"I don't recognize this one," Carvingfur huffed, hackles still rasied.

"Venturedapple recently joined the Clan," Honeybuzz snapped. He hurried to his Clanmate's side, studying the wound. "What are you doing? We were close to the border, we're allowed to travel along it!" Honeybuzz took off his pouch and searched through it. All he had was a tuft of sea moss left over from treating a LynxClan mediator's lack of energy.

"I'm sorry," the ginger tom sighed. "Gorgestar changed our border policy. We're supposed to drive off any intruders."

"We aren't intruders!"Honeybuzz yowled. "I'm a cleric, for StarClan's sake! What's your name?"

"I'm Lighttrail," the ginger tom said, nudging Carvingfur away.

"Well, Lighttrail," Honeybuzz growled, "expect RippleClan to demand medical reimbursement. Can you stand, Venturedapple?"

"Yes," Venturedapple groaned. He hissed as he got to his paws, holding his tail close. Honeybuzz groomed his wounds, but his tongue wouldn't stop the blood flow.

"I'm giving both of your names to Downstar and the codekeepers," Honeybuzz hissed as he helped Venturedapple back along their path. "Attacking a cleric and their escort is unacceptable!" Honeybuzz settled his pouch back onto his side and stormed off, refusing to look back at Lighttrail and Carvingfur.

Venturedapple's tail left a red trail as the pair hurried home. Honeybuzz ran treatment options through his mind. Some of Venturedapple's gashes might need stitches, but the brown and white codekeeper seemed like he could take the pain. Honeybuzz would mix some of his black cherry tea with a dash of SlugClan's honey (how ironic) and skullcap powder, that would reduce the pain and soothe Venturedapple's battle-ready heart. Honeybuzz had a good ointment for winter wounds; balsam fir gum for infection, bluebead lily leaves for fresh wounds, rounded out with red osier bark shavings. He could use some of that ointment for his ear, but most of it would go on Venturedapple's tail before the bandages. His condition wasn't too bad, Honeybuzz could—

"Does your ear hurt?" Venturedapple asked, snapping Honeybuzz back to the present.

"Only a little bit," Honeybuzz promised, licking his paw and pulling it over his bleeding ear. Venturedapple slowed, nodding.

"Thank you for your intervention," he said.

"Thank you!" Honeybuzz stammered. "I didn't see them. I would have been helpless." Venturedapple nodded again. "It seems you'll be spending time in the medicine den with me. Let's make sure to share some meals together."

"That would be nice," Venturedapple purred as the chunks of fur remaining on his tail dripped red.

Maybe Venturedapple wasn't as mysterious as Honeybuzz thought.

(Honeybuzz: 27, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Venturedapple: 67, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

Ravenweaver is named RippleClan’s newest artisan.

[Image ID: Ravenweaver is an adult. Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! RAVENPAW → RAVENWEAVER, PICKY NEST BUILDER → DEN BUILDER, QUICK WITTED → VERY CLEVER.]

(Ravenweaver: 14, female, artisan, den builder, very clever

Brightpaw has to lure away a human and their hunting dog with Trumpetspore and Elmsprout.

[Image ID: Brightpaw follows Trumpetspore and Elmsprout. Under him, it reads + CONDITION: BITE WOUND.]

---

It was the day after Estherfern's trial. Her confession to the Clan following the successful ritual had thrown everyone off balance, to say the least. Yet at the end of it all, Downstar decided that, outside of lost privileges, Foampaw's death was punishment enough. But was it? Brightpaw's mother only started seeing him and his sisters as actual cats after summoning the forces of the Dark Forest to "cure" them. Estherfern loved them all, Brightpaw knew that… but what was he supposed to say?

"You don't need to know what to do," Elmsprout insisted as she and Trumpetspore led Brightpaw on patrol. Snow drifted through the sunhigh haze, because of course Trumpetspore took Brightpaw on a dreaded sunhigh patrol. "The entire Clan is confused right now. Downstar and Oilstripe are busy deciding what to tell the other Clans, both about your mother and about Wolfgaze, Weevilpaw, and Anchovystrike. You're allowed to be just as unsure."

"We should have told the Clans about the three of them when we first found out," Brightpaw huffed. "It's a good defense. They wouldn't want to attack us when they know we can predict their moves and freeze them where they stand."

"It was better for them," Elmsprout sighed. "How would you feel if everyone saw you as some living legend when you were just six moons old? We've given them time to grow up and graduate. Now that the spirits are gone, there's less pressure on them to live up to some mythical ideal."

"I guess that makes sense," Brightpaw sighed. He tried to turn his attention to the patrol, watching for any spirits that could have lingered from the rituals… or something else that came in.

"Even though I would never give up my life here," Elmsprout said, gaze drifting, "I still wish my relationship with my father was better. It's not a perfect comparison, but I think both your mother and my father only ever tried to help us, even if they went about it the wrong way. That doesn't excuse them, but… I think that makes it easier to understand them. And this time, rather than running to join another Clan like I did, you can work through it." She dipped her chin at the end, flaunting her embarrassment the way a lot of adults seemed to when relating to apprentices. Brightpaw had to admit, though; it worked.

"As long as my mom doesn't ask me to 'speak up' or 'take a deep breath' again," Brightpaw scoffed, with only the slightest hint of comtempt. He was allowed a little comtempt. He deserved it.

A loud crack broke through the forest. Distant barking froze Brightpaw where he stood. Trumpetspore instinctually climbed up the nearest tree while Elmsprout shielded Brightpaw.

"What was that?" Brightpaw yowled, trying to breath.

"A thunder-stick," Elmsprout explained, grooming Brightpaw's neck. "The humans shoot fire out of them when hunting. It's alright, Brightpaw. They don't hunt cats. They like to hunt deer in AshClan and SlugClan the most."

"Elmsprout, I don't like how close that was," Trumpetspore called, peering between the barren branches. "They'll scare off the prey. We haven't caught much since the clerics' ritual, we need whatever we can get."

"We can't take down a human," Brightpaw said.

"There are a few things we can do to drive them off their hunt," Elmsprout said, ears angled toward the distant barking. "Let's see if they're on RippleClan territory." Elmsprout jogged toward the hunters, kicking up snow behind her. Brightpaw shook snow off his back and hurried after Elmsprout while Trumpetspore raced along the trees.

The breeze carried the human's scent to Brightpaw. It stun his nose like cinders. The smell of a crazed dog added depth to the scent. One of Brightpaw's earliest memories was of a barn dog gently sniffing his fur while Estherfern watched closely. They could be gentle giants, but no dog would stay calm when a thunder-stick exploded in its master's grip.

The human and their dog lingered within sight of the Great Northern River. The human, dressed in thick brown leathers, carried a long branch in their gangly paws. A muscular white dog with thick jowls and a bobbed tail stared joyfully at its master. It held a mourning dove in its jaws, which it presented to the human with a muffled bark. The human stroked the dog's head and took the dove out of its mouth.

"This is worse than I thought," Trumpetspore whispered, scampering into the underbrush with Elmsprout and Brightpaw. "They're bird hunting. We need those birds!"

"How do we stop them?" Brightpaw asked, crouched into the snow.

"It's dangerous," Elmsprout muttered, "but we may have to drive the dog away from its human. If we rile the beast up and lead it away, when its human finds it again, they may be so cold and angry that they'll give up the hunt and return home."

"Brightpaw, you should climb into the trees and watch us," Trumpetspore said. "Apprentices shouldn't have to fight off dogs."

"He'll be an adult next moon," Elmsprout pointed out. "He can help."

"We've lost two apprentices in three moons," Trumpetspore huffed. There was a weight to her voice Brightpaw had never heard before. "I'm still Brightpaw's mentor. He's staying in the trees." Brightpaw wanted to interject, but his words were stillborn.

When Trumpetspore nodded to the pine beside her, Brightpaw dutifully climbed the trunk. He danced around the needles, fearing the hunter would mistake him for a squirrel and fire lightning from their thunder-stick. The human scanned the forest while their dog scampered around their feet. The human's thunder-stick was almost as long as they were tall, with a sharp needle at the end. The thunder-stick's hollow end followed the human's gaze. Elmsprout and Trumpetspore crept through the snow, stiffening with every crunch. They moved behind the human and their dog, keeping an eye on Brightpaw in the tree.

Elmsprout and Trumpetspore yowled as loud as they could. The dog jumped up, barking with enough force to deafen Brightpaw. The human startled, thunder-stick angled toward Elmsprout and Trumpetspore's hiding spot, but cats were not their prey. They barked at their dog and gently placed the thunder-stick in the snow. The dog lunged toward the cauterwauling cats, spit flying from its loose lips. The human snatched its brown collar and pulled the dog back. The dog choked and whined, but pushed against its master, desperate to find the noisy mollies.

All Brightpaw wanted was to jump to the tree closer to his mentor, just in case. That's what he tried to do, at least. It wasn't a hard jump. He steadied his paws on the hanging branch. His tail twitched rapidly, quickly adjusting his balance. He eyed the shorter pine beside Elmsprout and Trumpetspore. An easy jump. So why then did Brightpaw find himself skidding against the snow-laden branches and tumbling through the pine needles?

Brightpaw landed on all four paws with a sharp yowl, just in front of Elmsprout and Trumpetspore. His body was soaked with half-melted snow. The shock of the fall slammed through his legs and seemed to stop his heart for a moment. Elmsprout and Trumpetspore stopped yowling, but the dog howled behind Brightpaw. The human yowled as Brightpaw turned around. The dog's strength was too much. The human couldn't pull on the dog's collar anymore. The collar slipped from the human's deformed paws. The dog launched itself as Brightpaw, lost in the frenzy of the hunt.

The dog's teeth, still red with bird blood, pierced Brightpaw's shoulder. Its whole mouth fit around Brightpaw's back. It lifted Brightpaw off the ground as Elmsprout and Trumpetspore watched on, as frozen as the ice that dribbled down the trees. Brightpaw shrieked, claws flailing. His back paw snagged the dog's gangly lips, but the dog didn't care. It turned to its master, presenting the newfound catch with stunning naiveity.

A sandy paw came down on the dog's muzzle. The dog spat Brightpaw out onto the human's feet. The human growled at the dog, reaching toward Brightpaw. Even though his body burned against the snow, Brightpaw scrambled for shelter. He ran into Elmsprout and Trumpetspore, who quickly pressed against him, purring. The human howled at their dog, but that was no longer any of the patrol's concern. They raced through the snow, everything else forgotten.

"I'm sorry!" Brightpaw cried as his wild paws crunched against heavy snow. "I'm sorry! I don't know why I did that!"

"You fell, it happens," Elmsprout said, taking the lead. "We've stopped their hunt. The bite isn't too severe, the clerics can clean the wound and bandage your shoulders." That meant more time with Estherfern… was Brightpaw ready for that?

He supposed he had to be.

(Brightpaw: 11, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Elmsprout: 46, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

(Trumpetspore: 40, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

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