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away-from-anthills · 2 years ago

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i’m not sure if i’ll ever get back to writing afa (and if i will it’ll probably be in a different form and no longer affiliated with warrior cats, as i’ve been sorta moving away from the series given (gestures) Everything) so. would you like the rest of how this would have gone to be spoiled for you? if so read on

remember: where we last left off, antstar has killed stoatslink to cover up sparkthistle's murder, shadowclan is going insane bc their leader is an adulterer (and worse a code violator), and thunderclan riverclan and skyclan are spinning in the corner.

- eventually, shadowclan's situation culminates in a full-on revolt led by the older shadowclan cats against currantstar and his philosophies of rejecting traditional shadowclan culture in favor of facades and mass appeal. it's left unclear what happens to currantstar; antstar thinks he sees him in the window of a twoleg house, but it could be his mind playing tricks on him. when asked, currantstar's sister simply says she 'never had a brother'. sleekstar, currantstar's former mate, is the one who becomes the next leader. antstar is terrified of the implication, especially as he had previously thought of currantstar as hope for his situation

- so naturally when talonscar, an elder of windclan, starts to idolize the revolution of shadowclan, whitetooth and antstar scheme to starve talonscar to death, subtly, in such a way that nobody notices the elder slip out from underneath them. this is really the moment where antstar's killings turn from reactive to proactive- no longer is he killing those that clue into his crimes, but those who -could-.

- some time later and antstar and his deputy/former friend, russetfoot, begin more and more to disagree on things, eventually culminating with a long argument in the rain in which russet accuses ant of being a horrible leader. ant thinks he sees whitetooth lunge in to kill the cat, and so antstar follows through, and after a long close fight antstar manages to kill his deputy... only to realize that whitetooth never jumped in and simply watched the whole thing from the sidelines, and that for the first time antstar has committed murder completely on his own accord.

- the two return to camp with russet's body, swearing an attacker got to all three and killed russetfoot. and it's fine, the clan believes antstar once again even though some of them do find it strange. antstar takes all of this completely fine (Lie. He has 97 mental illnesses)

- time passes, and antstar’s paranoia begins to die down a bit. whitetooth never refers to the murders, and antstar wonders if they even really happened. he begins to really grow into a leader, leading his clan in a defense against shadowclan and establishing further trade routes et al with riverclan. toadpool is appointed in russetfoot’s place, and toad is fine, if passive and lacking real leadership

- pigeonstar however is still PISSED antstar, yknow, gave the order to kill pigeon’s son (even if it was not completely intentional). so are pigeon’s other two children, the volatile nettlebark and the detached birchtail. nettlebark sets out on a revenge quest to get antstar back in revenge, but his attempts are unsuccessful, and he ends up being killed by a windclan patrol in retaliation. pigeonstar is taking the ‘btw your son was killed by the same clan that killed your other son when he tried to get revenge for your other son’ thing as well as you’d think

- riverclan, in addition, is also becoming more demanding. they continue to fare poorly and windclan is being driven a little up the wall by how they’re treating them. antstar wants to help riverclan and keep his allies there, but his own clan is unwilling, and the threat of public opinion is enough for antstar to revoke all help to riverclan and leave them alone.

- naturally, at the next gathering tulipstar does not come, instead replaced by squirrelstar. thunderclan finally got their chance to claim sunningrocks from riverclan, in the process killing off the last of tulipstar’s lives. she died alone on the battlefield. squirrelstar is naturally sorta pissed at antstar; it was a battle antstar amplified that cost squirrelstar’s mother her life and now tulipstar has been killed because antstar didn’t offer support. (confusing? yes, as clan politics are). windclan and riverclan relations cool and eventually freeze over; neither are outright hostile but they are no longer friends.

- terrified now that he has no ‘real’ allies, antstar starts becoming genuinely frightening in public and not just Some Wimp That Is Scary After Dark. he becomes a cold leader, not harsh on his clan but harsh on others, becoming the very image of the stoic clan leader he initially feared so much at his first gathering. the other original leaders bow out also. tatteredstar passes away in her sleep after so many years. pigeonstar’s daughter and last remaining kin, birchtail, disowns her father and moves to shadowclan. lost, tired, and alone in all the world, pigeonstar escapes his clan in the night, and it’s mentioned his pawsteps led to nowhere and no cat knew what became of him. with fear- and a coil of pride- antstar realizes he’s the last of the leaders he once knew, and the one who’s been leader the longest. - windclan changes as well. toadpool passes and antstar makes spiderfoot, his old apprentice, his deputy. some cats become more and more close to antstar, others seem simply passive towards him. whitetooth remains windclan’s medic, although marblepaw- marbleface, now- is becoming the more physically capable of the medics as she is now an adult in her prime. she still, however, is terrified of her mentor for the murders she witnessed all those seasons ago.

- antstar himself has come to want children, and he and houndnose have them together. there is no romance between the two, he seems to see it as a kindness because she has never had a surviving litter before. (this is not presented as a good view of things.) there are four kits, antstar names two of them mudkit and tulipkit while houndnose names the other two acornkit… and talonkit, after talonscar, unaware the father of her litter murdered them.

- antstar is as scared about this as you’d think. while he is very close with his sole daughter tulippaw, he is very neglectful of his son talonpaw out of the fear of what that name means to him. whitetooth suggests antstar show his neglected son affection- and, more importantly, keep his paws on windclan leadership- by making talonpaw marbleface’s apprentice, but antstar has to think about it. - windclan meanwhile is like ‘hey we never did catch the murderer of sparkthistle, stoatslink, and russetfoot’. antstar panics and blames it on birchshine, some random Guy in the clan, who is then exiled and killed by his own former friends under the assumption birch is a windclan threat.

- whitetooth is like ‘hey thats a dumb decision LOL do better you idiot’ and someone walks in on antstar and whitetooth discussing this. antstar panics, says he found whitetooth confessing to being an accomplice, and whitetooth is similarly exiled. whitetooth refuses to answer why they did anything that they did, and when they’re exiled, they just seem to disappear- not even their scent remains on the territory a day later.

- antstar is like. Ok. Thank fuck that’s done. but he gets signs from starclan- signs to beware spiderfoot, and that she will be the one to ultimately kill him. naturally he panics and exiles spiderfoot for no clear reason, and becomes even more authoritarian- now any cat who speaks out against him may be exiled, too. some cats leave with spiderfoot, and antstar continues to panic. spiderfoot is, after all, one of the few cats he couldn’t bring himself to kill.

- spiderfoot and co. nestle in riverclan, and squirrelstar is sympathetic to their plight. antstar, feeling as though he has no other options, chooses to attack riverclan for no reason in the witching hours, hoping his forces- and not him- will drive off spiderfoot. it has to be done, hasn’t it? but riverclan has thrived under squirrelstar’s leadership, and they- and spiderfoot and co.- fight windclan back. windclan’s warriors, who fail to understand why antstar has chosen to attack riverclan, quickly turn on their leader; antstar’s loyalists are killed or driven out and antstar himself is chased away. some cats finally put two and two together and think antstar is exiling all these cats because he himself has murders to hide. marbleface, in her sole line of dialogue in the entire story, confirms this

- some suggest to spiderfoot she leave antstar alone, now that he’s on his own and has fled windclan. spiderfoot however responds she’s not done- she needs some sort of closure. and so, she follows antstar’s scent trail, along the gorge, until she finds him there- broken, wounded, alone.

- antstar is on his last life. the old tom can sense that even now spiderfoot doesn’t want to kill her old mentor, despite everything; and he doesn’t want to kill her. he could, of course- he’s injured but still capable enough, and they’re right by the gorge so he could throw her in easily. but… but for once he declines. he knows he’s on his way out anyway. at least now… at least now he should stop trying to outrun the world, and face the inevitable punishment lying after his death with dignity

- antstar backs from spiderfoot, offers his apologies that he couldn’t resolve everything neatly for her and wishes her luck, and leaps backwards, into the gorge, following all his victims before him. as he falls he thinks of his entire life, all the mistakes he made. and yet… he feels more peaceful, more peaceful than he’s felt in years, more peaceful than he was ever since the story began. he looks out at the sunrise. it’s the most beautiful thing he ever sees- and then, as he hits the rocks below- everything goes black.

- spiderfoot watches the waves carry antstar’s body away. he didn’t appoint another deputy after her, and as windclan has let her back in, she has now inherited leadership. the story ends on her, alone, walking through the grass back to camp, preparing herself to become windclan’s next leader- and, perhaps, in spite of everything- stop the cycle once and for all.

(will she, though? the narrative does not seem confident.)

#not story text #(ish.)#away from anthills #antstar

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away-from-anthills · 3 years ago

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chapter eight-

“You really think we can take on ThunderClan?”

Antstar could practically see Russetfoot’s hesitancy as the two toms sat on the rim of the hollow. “We’ll be taking them on with RiverClan.”

“Yes, but ThunderClan will have SkyClan with them, too.” Russetfoot, Antstar noted, had grown much more nervous now that he had his kits. There was still that trademark confidence of his, of course, but concern had balanced it. It had been a few days, now, and here they were- the night before the battle.

“I know we have to fight to keep RiverClan as an ally.” Russetfoot’s voice was careful, delicate; a butterfly landing upon a leaf. “And I have faith you know what you’re doing, Antstar. You’re my best friend besides my brother, anyway.”

Antstar felt uneasy as the tom carefully picked out his words.

“But I think- I think you should have handled this another way. We’re fighting for something we have no stake in, and- well, I don’t worry -that- much about our warriors, but I can’t say we’re the most formidable.” He clenched his teeth. “Especially against anything Tatteredstar is leading.”

“We’ll be fine, Russetfoot.”

Russetfoot, however, wasn’t convinced. “It’s already a stressful time, Antstar. Leaf-fall will soon begin, and with that will come cold and hunger. And with my seven kits, and Cherrycloud’s five…”

“I know. We’re all stressed.”

The last blue hues of dusk slipped away beneath the horizon.

“I pray to StarClan, you’ve made the right choice.”

Perhaps a walk could clear Antstar’s mind from impending battle.

The night was crisp, as the end of summer was. The cricket songs had slowly begun to quiet down, day by day, and already the grasses were turning yellow and the leaves a bold ginger. He remembered Shalestar had always liked this time of year the most. The old tom had told him, when he was an apprentice, that this kind of weather during this season gave him the energy to travel the length of the forest, and promised him something was always around the corner.

How he wished he felt that way…

The gorge made his belly churn, now, so he headed the other way, through the territories. He saw Stoatslink in the distance, hunting with his daughters. Antstar recalled their conversation from a few nights prior: Stoatslink was certain a non-Clan cat was threatening WindClan, and had been the one to kill Sparkthistle. Antstar and Stoatslink had never quite seen eye-to-eye, and something about the white tom had always been unnerving to him… but he had to hand it to him. Stoatslink was the only one who was right about it.

Antstar hoped he would abandon his case, however…

He continued to wander out of WindClan territory and up north. He could see Mothermouth on the other side of the Thunderpath, the flowers around it beginning to curl up and brown with the change of seasons. It was pitch-black, without a trace of the bright, glittering quartz that its path led to.

It looked, Antstar thought, like a predator’s maw, waiting to strike and snap shut.

He looked down the path of the Thunderpath before him. He could see a Twolegplace on the horizon, and the path seemed to stretch out forever and ever. What worlds lay beyond White Hart Woods? What would greet him, if he ran?

He was scared by just how much he felt his mind wander to the idea. Running away, never looking back. Leaving the world behind him. Russetfoot would be a good leader in his stead. They’d never find out about Sparkthistle- and if they did, it would be of no consequence to him. Perhaps some would miss him, especially Spiderfoot; but the world would spin without him, just as it always had, and he’d be dismissed as little more than a fluke who walked upon WindClan and was gone.

No- he couldn’t do that. He had his obligations. And, moreover, he was scared of what lay beyond all he could ever remember. He knew he had been there once, before they found him in the fields when he was a kit. But he couldn’t remember it well. On one hand- perhaps his birth family was out there, or other kindly cats; perhaps a nice Twoleg would take him in. But on the other hand, there might be none of the stability that the Clan provided. No medicine, no organization, no kindness in his fellow Clanmates. There might be pain, torment.

The thought that scared Antstar the most, however, was the idea that he’d escape, run free- and find that there was absolutely nothing out there. Not good, not bad. Just… nothing at all. And it would turn out the Clans were all that ever was…

He was pried out of his thoughts, however, when he saw a red tabby sprint by.

Russetfoot? He thought initially, but upon closer inspection he realized the cat couldn’t be him. While they were both dark red tabbies with emerald eyes, this tom had a more smudged pelt and a boxy shape, while Russetfoot was a slim, compact cat with clear-cut stripes the shape of fishbones.

No, realized Antstar- this was Currantstar!

He followed the tom throughout WindClan territory, steady and silent. He looked like he was in a hurry, and a bit nervous about whatever he was doing. Antstar had never seen him this way, sprinting through the dark, like a deer afraid that- at any moment- the dusty path below him might turn into pavement and he may be greeted with his downfall.

But as soon as Antstar could ask any questions, the tom took a sharp left turn into RiverClan territory, past the gorge and over the bridge. The tom’s figure grew darker as he ran, as dark as the shadows of the trees and stones, and soon Antstar could not tell which shadow was which.

Strange.

But Antstar didn’t want to ask further- two Clans against him were already enough.

The next morning came too soon and yet it felt like it had taken forever.

Russetfoot was busy gathering the warriors and apprentices. The elders and queens, of course, were staying behind to defend the camp in case anything wicked arose. The dawn was perfect- a tad too perfect, perhaps, with clouds running like honey towards the sun, nearly viscous, their milky haze yellowing the light. The grass was so soaked with dew that it clung to the dawn patrol’s coats.

“Are you sure you want to come with us, and not stay here with the elders, Sandwhisker?” Antstar overheard Russetfoot ask. The pale, thin molly was making her way into the crowd of warriors alongside more formidable warriors like Toadpool and Coalclaw.

“Of course,” she said, almost too defensively. “You’re concerned I’m going to hurt myself or die somehow, aren’t ya, youngin’?”

Russetfoot nodded. “You’re the same age as the elders. You should-“

“Don’t tell me what to do. If I die out there- which won’t happen- at least I’ll die in an important way.” The dawn’s light seemed to take away some of her age with its softness, but even then Antstar could tell the molly was too old for fighting. Her eyes were rheumy with fluid to the point she had grown two brown tear streaks, and her flank had long lost its sheen. She looked like a ragged lion pelt- thin, worn; yet still reeking of greatness.

But if Russetfoot could not change her mind, there was no way in Hell Antstar was going to.

A dark gray tabby slipped past him. It was Spiderfoot, making her way to the front of the crowd of warriors. She looked back at Antstar for a moment, her eyes filled with trust and admiration.

“Are you sure this whole fight is a good idea?” asked her brother. Coalclaw, despite being one of the largest cats in WindClan, was fidgeting in place, his eyes cast to the dusty ground below them.

“Antstar wouldn’t have made it so if it wasn’t a good idea,” responded Spiderfoot triumphantly. Her voice had a trumpeting quality in it. Antstar took faith in her- perhaps she could see the chiseled truths in Antstar’s decisions that he could not.

The elders, however, weren’t as certain about it.

“I know you said that this would be a good place to be, Audrey,” said Shrike, one of the two loners Antstar had accepted into the Clan, “but we haven’t been here a month and he’s already sending them away to battle against cats they don’t even know well.” “It’s fine, Shrike. It’s a border dispute. We had to deal with those when we were out traveling around.”

“I know. But something about the guy rubs me the wrong way.” The scarred black-and-white molly narrowed her dark brown eyes.

“Oh, Antstar’s doing his best.” Silverbelly got up and sat next to Shrike, punctuating his sentence with a sleepy yawn. “All leaders are a bit jittery like this at the start. They grow into their stride.” He smiled mischievously- he was old and had grown plump with age now, but the young, wild warrior that once was showed through. “And personally, I’ll support anything that’ll give that lump of rat-crap Pigeonstar a piece of mind.” He laughed, stifling his chuckles so as to not wake up Crowflower, who was dozing behind him.

Talonscar, the old brown tabby with ragged ears in the back, made no conversation despite being very much awake. But there was something about their olive-eyed glare that made Antstar immediately know they didn’t approve of his plan.

But it was nothing Antstar had the space to think about now. Russetfoot was already through the gorse-flower tunnel, and Spiderfoot, Coalclaw, and Juniperfang were just behind him. Even Whitetooth and Marblepaw had joined the crowd, Marblepaw carrying a little sack made from woven leaves that held all sorts of wound-tending herbs. What was done was done.

They got there at about the same time RiverClan did.

“I’m glad to see you here,” said Tulipstar, her tail gently flowing from side to side. The RiverClan cats, freshly joined by their WindClan allies, sat at the edge of the river, as close as they possibly could be to the prized territory. Redfeather’s snout jutted out as she leaned in to get a good look, just nearly keeping herself balanced so she didn’t slip and fall. Smokebark was steely-eyed as ever as he got a drink from the riverbank, his weary yellow gaze focused solely on the ThunderClan cats who lay on the pale, smooth stones ahead.

Something bumped into Antstar, and he wheeled around to see a small fawn tabby; an unusually meek-looking RiverClan specimen. “Oh,” said the tabby, “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” assured Antstar.

“Oh, that’s just Oatwhisker,” said Tulipstar. “This is his first battle as a warrior. He’s quite nervous about it. Always worrying about something…”

“Oh, it’s my apprentice’s first battle as a warrior too.” Antstar stepped back proudly before realizing he had to correct himself. “Former apprentice, I mean.”

“Spiderfoot, right?”

Antstar nodded.

“I’ve seen her on the border when I go on walks. She’s a wily one.”

“I’m certainly aware of it.” Antstar had almost forgotten there was a battle to be held that day when the air grew deathly still.

Tatteredstar, sitting at the top of the tallest of Sunningrocks, had arrived.

She stared down at Tulipstar from across the river. There was a certain pity in those cold yellow eyes- as if she was giving Tulipstar an exit, knowing that she would never take it.

Tulipstar, unfettered as ever, stared back.

Tulipstar gave the nod to Antstar, and she slipped into the river. One by one, RiverClan warriors jumped in. There was none of the usual raucous splashing- only serious silence as each cat waded through the waters.

Then, WindClan jumped in, more noisily- first Rockscratch and Russetfoot, then Spiderfoot, then Toadpool, then Whitetooth and an especially hesitant Marblepaw… Antstar gathered in him the courage and jumped in, trying to keep his body streamlined with the water’s crisp surface to mimic the silent dives of the RiverClan cats.

He looked ahead, trying to keep his head up and even. He could see a small brown-and-white molly with a hairless, black, shriveled back leg leap up beside Tatteredstar. Tatteredstar uttered a command into the patched molly’s ear, and she limped away, onto ThunderClan’s side of the riverbank and into the fronds.

Hopscratch, Antstar realized- that was Hopscratch, Pigeonstar’s deputy. She must have gone to retrieve them.

What else could he see, from here? It was hard to make out any of the cats low on the rocks, given the angle he was at and the cats in front of him. There were two identical black toms, a tabby with a scar that stretched across the right side of his face down to his belly, a dark gray tabby molly with stripes that swirled around her like river currents, a white tom with ginger markings on his face and legs that reminded Antstar of his own… All of them massive, muscly, and far larger than he.

What had he gotten his Clan into?

He had no time to answer this, however, as a wicked screech erupted from the shore. The first clash of the battle. He could make out a tortoiseshell molly attacking a massive, blue-and-white tom.

He couldn’t quite place the name of the blue-and-white ThunderClan cat, but he knew the tortoiseshell was Mossfang. She moved like a firework, dazzling him as she ran about him, before she suddenly grabbed as his throat and pulled him to the earth in one ragged motion. The tom snarled with anger and slashed her across the face, ripping open a scab on her lip, but after a moment of pain-induced hesitation she bit down on his neck hard.

More cats joined in. Now WindClan was getting onto the surface.

Chaos soon erupted throughout the rocks. Antstar had tried to give his Clan orders, but they had for the most part devolved into cacophonic violence. Russetfoot leapt up and over him as he chased down a cream-colored molly, who wheeled around suddenly and slammed the russet tom into one of the rocks. Lilystone and Juniperfang, behind him, were tag-team attacking a black-and-white molly.

Something collided into Antstar. He looked up to see the white flame-pointed tom from earlier pinning him down, who had 3 scraggly scars across his left eye. There was a moment where the two said nothing and did nothing, and then Antstar felt fear yank his left paw as he slashed the tom’s nose open.

The tom moved with the blow as Antstar’s claws raked across him. Then, as soon as it was over, he gave a shrieky hiss, revealing to Antstar his drooling maw and sharp teeth- of which he had way more than Antstar felt comfortable with.

The ton clamped down on Antstar’s chest and began to pull, trying to rip Antstar’s skin off of his body. Antstar fought back the urge to jolt and instead grabbed the back of the tom’s head, yanking him in to bite down on his nose. The tom let go, and Antstar wriggled himself free, running to the shore to outrun his attacker.

But the flame-pointed tom was vigilant. His nose was now shredded open and red as a robin’s breast from Antstar’s claws and teeth, and his ice-blue eyes held a shark-like fury. The tom rushed over and used his body weight to slam Antstar into the water. Antstar leapt back up to rip and tear at the tom’s shoulder, back and forth, and soon the two fought further and further into the water, becoming a mess of claw swipes and thrashes and white crashing water, and Antstar lost himself in the mixture of terror and fury only close combat can bring.

And then- suddenly- a thin, triangular blue figure leapt out and slammed the flame-point ThunderClan cat into the water, grabbing on like a burr. Another figure- a thin, scrappy black tom- arrived, and the two held the pale ThunderClan cat under until he rose to the surface, gasped for air, and ran off. The water was red where he had been held under- his nose was now shredded completely open, the bridge of it nearly gone.

“Anything for our leader,” said the blue-gray-and-white tom as he lifted himself out of the water. The black tom behind him nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, Toadpool and Molethroat,” said Antstar, gasping for air- not because water had entered his lungs, but because it felt like adrenaline was gripping his throat. He could feel deep gashes in his flank, but the reality of it had not struck him yet because of the rush of fighting hormones that flowed in him. He ran to shore, clambering up one of the Sunningrocks to get a good vantage point.

He could see SkyClan had joined the battle, now- Pigeonstar was going at it with Willownose, a RiverClan warrior. Twigpaw was tussling with a tortoiseshell SkyClan apprentice. He heard a squeak behind him- a small ginger apprentice, who had to be the tortoiseshell’s brother, approached him.

“Don’t fight leaders until you can handle it,” said Antstar, trying to push him aside. But the ginger apprentice only spat in his ear.

“I can take on anyone I want!” Antstar picked up the tom and pushed him off the rocks, where he fell in the waters below. The little ginger apprentice, mostly unharmed except for a bruised shoulder and an even more bruised ego, ran off, muttering curses to himself.

Now that that was taken care of, he looked closer. There she was. Tatteredstar was in the middle of a fight with a lynx-pointed RiverClan tom. He clearly thought highly of himself, from the way his coat was excessively groomed to the way he held himself. He had to think highly of himself if he thought he could take the ThunderClan leader on. But she was no match for him. She picked up the tom and threw him, leaping after him as she did so she followed him through the air. Turning herself around, she latched onto the RiverClan tom and slammed him into the ground. Her body weight alone was enough- the RiverClan tom got up, shakily, almost as if he’d been punctured inward. It had all happened in the blink of an eye, in one smooth motion.

He had never seen Tatteredstar up close like this. And this was when he realized- war was not only what defined Tatteredstar. She had made it- whether she liked it or not- into art.

A yowl caught his attention, and he turned to see Oatwhisker, the tabby from before, confronted by two much larger black ThunderClan toms. Antstar headed down- the RiverClan cat was practically shaking in his paws.

“You think you can take Sunningrocks?” one of the black toms, who had a broader head and amber eyes, boasted. “Dumbass RiverClan cats and their dumbass ideas!” laughed the other, who was more square-jawed with lime green eyes. “This little clown really thought he could take us on, now, didn’t he?” “You were- you were-“ Oatwhisker stuttered. “You were going after the leader.”

“’Oh, you were going after the leader!’” mocked the amber-eyed tom in a cartoonishly whiny voice.

“She has nine lives!” The two pushed the smaller RiverClan tom into the ground, cackling. Oatwhisker simply whimpered with pain as the two slammed into him over and over.

“Hey!” Said Antstar, running in and trying to push one of the toms off of the RiverClan cat.

“Oh, here comes another leader now,” giggled the green-eyed tom with delight. The two black toms abandoned their prey and circled Antstar.

“I’m Weevilclaw,” introduced the amber-eyed one.

“And I’m Beetleclaw.”

“We’re the best battlers in the forest! ‘Cept for Tatteredstar.”

“Come on, rabbit-breath. Give it a try.”

Antstar leaned in to attack Weevilclaw, but Weevilclaw leapt forward and pushed him. Beetleclaw grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and soon Weevilclaw was pushing Antstar around on the floor. Antstar tried to get up, but Beetleclaw body-slammed him. He felt something in his rib crack, and a sharp pain erupted from the spot.

Again he tried to get up, again one of the two black cats pushed him down. The brothers were nearly identical, save for their facial shapes and eyes- two big toms built like bricks with wooly black fur and frankly annoying laughs.

“Hey!” yelled a sharp baritone. The two toms stood to their feet. Antstar got up slowly, now that the two were distracted. Oatwhisker was nowhere- he had to have run off when the two were initially distracted by Antstar.

Antstar turned to see who had saved him. It was the gray-and-white ThunderClan tom from earlier, the same one who had initiated the battle with Mossfang.

“You two idiots get off of the WindClan leader and listen to me. We have something important to do.” A cream-colored ThunderClan molly slunk up beside them, and the four cats began to whisper among themselves. Antstar ran off, bent over as his ribs continued to throb with pain.

He stepped in something wet and looked to see a pool of blood at his feet. He followed the trail of blood to see a broken, crumpled silver tabby figure- angular and muscular, like any good SkyClan cat, but warped beyond repair by battle. It was clear he had been dead for some time.

A pang of sadness hit Antstar, although he had never known the tom. It was Bumbleshade- the very same cat who had just been made a warrior a little more than a moon ago. All that promise, all that hope, gone in an instant…

Another cat slammed into him from behind, and he started clawing back, yowling at the attacker- this time a spotted calico SkyClan cat. He could hear the battle around him slowly turn from the yowls of anger and passion into yowls of desperation and horror. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stoatslink, Webwhisker, Smokebark, and Goldenpaw take on a horde of SkyClanners. Suddenly, one of them leapt out and slammed Goldenpaw into a nearby stone, and he heard Stoatslink cry out in panic before his attention was redirected to the calico before him. She was quick, but he was faster. He punched her under the jaw, sending her back, and ran off, darting this way and that through the crowd to avoid her.

He stumbled upon a dead black figure- another ThunderClan cat, but not either of the two he had seen earlier. No, this one had a sleeker, squirrel-like look to him, with tufted ears. A little ginger tom- perhaps the smallest ThunderClan apprentice- sat next to the tom’s bloodied breast, whimpering and crying, folding into himself.

Antstar wanted to do something. But he couldn’t. For ThunderClan was an enemy…

“Move it, will you?” It was the grey and white tom from before and the others he had recruited. The grey tom kicked at the ginger apprentice’s side, and the little apprentice- who had a deep cut across his eyebrow that was bleeding down his face- looked up at him with fear. “Sorry, Cloudclaw,” he mumbled apologetically, as if he had forgotten to speak.

But Cloudclaw was unmoved, simply waiting for the ginger tom to pick himself up before continuing on his path. The ginger apprentice, swaying side to side like he was about to vomit, followed wordlessly.

“Antstar! On your left!” He saw Russetfoot gesture to something behind him. He turned to see the speckled calico from before, and again the two whirled into combat. Faster and faster the two thought, on top of and over and around each other.

“TRUFFLEPELT!” he heard someone scream. He looked above to the tallest stone in Sunningrocks, where a flame-pointed tom with a shredded nose- the same one that had attacked him- was barreling towards the RiverClan deputy. Trufflepelt tried to get out of the way, but it was too late. The flame-pointed tom extended his claws, and then, and then-

His head was pushed into the earth by the calico molly before he could see what happened, but the sickening ripping sound and the spine-curling shriek that went with it told him all he needed to know.

There was a ripple of fury- enough to distract the SkyClan calico. He evaded her grasp and pinned her down, grabbing at her throat to keep her still. She worked harder and harder to escape him. A flurry of RiverClan cats- nearly all the ones he could recognize- swarmed the flame-point tom, who had leapt into the waters below.

The calico suddenly grabbed at his throat and bit. He pulled back, and felt her tear open a wound in his neck. She pulled back, her mouth lined with his fur and blood, coughing, but as soon as she had she leapt back in for more. He bit down on her neck and pried himself up, holding her in place- she responded by flipping him over. Left swipe, right swipe, uppercut-back. Left swipe, right swipe, uppercut-back. She leapt at him; he ran underneath her and watched her barrel to the side. He tried to run, but she was too quick. Back and forth the two went- left swipe, right swipe, left swipe, right swipe. He managed to rake open a gash on her cheek, and she jumped away in pain.

He looked to where the RiverClan cats had swarmed. They were pulling away, now. What remained of the flame-pointed tom could barely be identified as a cat.

He ran, knowing the calico was still after him. He nearly tripped on something, and turned over to see what it was. He recognized the pale figure on the ground below him immediately. His heart began to twist in place and turn black with grief.

Sandwhisker.

But before he could focus on her body for too long, he heard commotion behind him, and turned to see Cloudclaw and his group circling Pebblesky, the RiverClan medicine cat. Only now that the two were close could Antstar see that Cloudclaw resembled a short-furred, more muscular Pebblesky.

“You traitor,” snarled Cloudclaw.

Her herbs were already tossed about and rendered useless- clearly the ThunderClan cats had attacked those already. She looked around, trying to escape, but there was no sign of urgency- only pain as she gazed at Cloudclaw and the cream-colored molly, who were both bristling at the sight of her.

“Please let me leave,” she urged them. “You’ve done enough leaving already,” snapped the cream molly, her tongue spitting out the words as if they were venom. “I’m ashamed that I have to live with the knowledge my mother left me to prance about in RiverClan!”

Cloudclaw roared with anger and leapt at her. She did not fight back, letting him kick her around. The cream molly was about to join in when suddenly a red-and-white molly- Emberblaze, ThunderClan’s medicine cat- barged through.

“You don’t treat our mother this way!”

More figures slid in to fight off the group- this time being Whitetooth and Honeyfur, with Marblepaw close behind. Together, the medicine cats fought off the two. Beetleclaw and Weevilclaw, who had initially been on the two ThunderClan siblings’ side, slipped away as soon as they recognized the towering ThunderClan molly over them.

“Cloudclaw.”

Cloudclaw looked like a terrified kit as he turned to see Tatteredstar standing there. The cream molly tried to get up and leave, but before she could Tatteredstar called her name as well:

“Daffodilfur.”

The two stood pathetically in front of her. The medicine cats had all left, save for Emberblaze, who stood at her leader’s flank.

“You don’t attack a medicine cat. I thought I made this clear to you two.” She snarled with fury. “Expect punishment when the battle is over with.” The two cats, still shaking with fear, ran off in different directions, tails between legs.

Antstar heard a yowl and turned. It was the SkyClan calico- now with several other SkyClan cats. The group barreled after him, and Antstar began to attack- but he felt light-headed and woozy. Was it the fear of battle? Or had his wounds gotten to him?

Left swipe, right swipe, uppercut back. Left swipe, right swipe, uppercut…

He began to black out. Something harsh ripped at his belly.

Left swipe, right swipe….

Everything began to dissolve into syrup, it felt. He felt something attacking him, but he could not tell what SkyClan cat it was….

Left swipe… left…

He awoke with a jolt.

The StarClan cat- someone he did not know, someone that smelled of harshness and cold and not the warm WindClan scent he had felt from old friends at his nine lives ceremony- had told him that that was his first life spent.

The SkyClan cats had all dispersed. He could tell the battle was winding down.

“You alright?” asked Toadpool, who walked up behind him.

“…Yeah.”

“Alright.” Toadpool cantered off, hearing a cry of a RiverClan cat.

Antstar looked ahead. There stood a terrified-looking blue SkyClan tabby, with wide yellow eyes… and a chest coated in Antstar’s blood.

Suddenly, Antstar felt white-hot anger bubble up into his throat. This cat couldn’t be very old. And yet- and yet, they had the audacity to take away a WindClan leader’s life? Even though their clan had nothing to do with WindClan at the moment? Despite everything? Despite all the war waged, all the cats who it would make sense to attack…

“Coalclaw!” Antstar snarled, sighting the charcoal-colored tabby. He nudged his nose at the SkyClan cat. “Get him! NOW!”

The blue-gray tabby tried to run, but Coalclaw caught him in one leap. He grabbed onto the cat’s neck, and then looked at his leader for orders.

“Should I keep him here, or-“ “He took my life. He’s a danger. I don’t care what it takes, get him out of my sight!”

Antstar regretted the words as soon as they had flung out of his mouth. He almost tried to take them back, but he didn’t have the courage to. Coalclaw’s teeth were deeply embedded into the blue-gray tabby’s neck, and they clamped down harder and harder for what felt like hours. Coalclaw looked as though he were in great terror doing it, as if he was clamping down onto his own throat. A horrible, dark crimson pool erupted from the blue-gray cat’s throat and mouth.

Coalclaw let go, nearly stumbling on himself. The blue-gray tom stumbled, and the blood didn’t stop pouring, only getting faster and faster as it slunk down the sloped ground…

At last, the tom gave out at his ankles, and fell to the ground. There was a crowd gathering, now. Antstar felt more nauseous than ever, almost wanting to slip into the river and escape from it all.

The battle was at standstill as a horrible scream- worse than even Trufflepelt’s dying caterwaul- echoed throughout the air. Antstar had never heard anything like it. The sound was pain personified.

He turned to see what it was.

And there stood Pigeonstar.

Pigeonstar was covered in scratches from the battle, but it seemed like all his physical pain left him as he ran to the tom’s body. He was in shock, prodding at the body and trying desperately to find a sign of life.

And then it hit Antstar like a boulder from the sky. The same blue-gray pelt. The same angular figure. The same diamond-shaped face, the same pale underbelly.

Pigeonstar’s son.

At once, the SkyClan leader looked like he lost all the tension in his body. He collaped on top of his son, sobbing with grief, quieter than any cat ever knew him to be.

Then, after eternity and a day, he stood up slowly and shakily. The body before him remained still.

“I think he’s waking up,” he said deliriously, wild grief turning to wild, desperate hope. “He has to be! See, the chest is moving! He’ll wake up any moment now. He has to be! Someone!” His face flickered through a thousand emotions. “Someone get a medicine cat! Please! They’ll show you! They’ll show you all!” He lay on the body, rocking back and forth, his eyes blank. “StarClan wouldn’t let him die, you know. They have to know my children are my greatest joy. They have to!...”

He looked right at Antstar. He had been robbed away by grief. All that was left was desperate madness, desperate denial.

“He has to be asleep. He’d sleep like this when he was a kit. Just him and I. He was always the one that was closest to me, my little runt of the litter.”

Honeyfur entered the little clearing in the crowd where Pigeonstar and the body lay, gently, his face wracked with horror as he already knew what he had to tell his leader. He went over to check the body, laying a paw on the tom’s crushed throat.

“See?” said Pigeonstar, still feverish from denial. “He’s just asleep, right?”

“Stoneclaw is dead,” said Honeyfur matter-of-factly.

Pigeonstar jumped up, convulsing, eyes wide.

“His neck was crushed. The wound is very deep; I doubt we could have saved him. He died from a mixture of blood loss and suffocation.”

He was cut off by a wild scream of agony from Pigeonstar, who buried his face into the body.

There was dead silence.

After another eternity, however, Pigeonstar slowly got up, shaking. His back was turned to Antstar, and Antstar suddenly felt something horrible stick to the back of his throat.

“YOU!” Pigeonstar turned around, staring Antstar dead on. Antstar realized, then, that he had been a fool when he had thought about Pigeonstar. Pigeonstar wasn’t always angry. Annoyed? Mean? Yes. But only now- only now as he stared on this wild apparition, this thing that was no longer a cat but a parent’s grief possessing flesh- only now, he realized, was he dealing with a truly furious Pigeonstar.

“YOU KILLED HIM!”

In a flash, Pigeonstar leapt towards Antstar. But Honeyfur and a brown SkyClan warrior caught him before he could make contact, pulling him away, away from the clearing.

“HE KILLED MY BABY! HE KILLED MY BABY!” he sobbed wildly.

As they pulled him away, he tried to push back, his paws reaching out- but nobody could tell if he was after Antstar, or after his dead son.

“I- I didn’t mean…” Coalclaw had stood in place the entire time, his eyes wide and his knees buckling from guilt. “I- I never meant to kill…”

“Battle’s over,” said Tatteredstar, interrupting. Antstar looked around. The dead- Bumbleshade, Sandwhisker, Trufflepelt, what remained of the flame-point tom, the black ThunderClan cat, Stoneclaw, and a red RiverClan molly Antstar only now realized had been killed with a pang of grief- Redfeather- were all being inspected by their respective medicine cats, already being prepared to be taken back to their camps and buried.

Tatteredstar flicked her tail and turned towards ThunderClan territory.

“Sunningrocks is theirs, now. Battle’s over.”

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #Holy Damn was this a wild one to write #also i haven't written a battle scene since i was 11 lol so it's probably not Great #story

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away-from-anthills · 4 years ago

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the medicine cats in the story at this time of writing! most of them are fairly minor characters (with one glaring exception), but i thought it would be nice to flesh them all out a bit anyway.

honeyfur of skyclan is a big, muscly guy, very able to be a formidable fighter. but his heart was never in it, really- he’s a lover, not a fighter. he naturally picked up being a medicine cat when he was a very young apprentice, and has been that way ever since. skyclan tends to be rather hotheaded, especially under pigeonstar’s reign, so he’s also something of a mediator who solves the conflicts in his clan (and tries to apologize for pigeonstar’s less-than-polite behavior behind his back).

whitetooth of windclan has always been... a bit odd. they’re disarming, dedicated, and have a bit of the flair of an 18th century footman. they like feeling needed, and they like feeling like they have a sense of control. even as a kit they’d ask the clan around them- do you love me? am i needed? on one hand, it’s charming, but on the other it’s a bit unsettling. but they’re quite benign; a skilled healer simply doing as their leader asks them to, nothing more and nothing less...

marblepaw of windclan is a gentle, quiet thing. she and her brother were never really wanted by their mother, and so were often neglected. while this made twigpaw more of an egocentric showoff who loves attention, she became something of a wallflower: timid, gentle, deferential to her mentor. she’s great at keeping secrets...

pebblesky of riverclan was, in fact, born in thunderclan; she trained as a warrior and lived for many moons believing it had to be her destiny. she loathed living in thunderclan, always feeling trapped in the clan’s militaristic, battle-focused ways. however, when her daughter emberblaze- then emberpaw- she realized another life was possible, and soon trained herself to be a medicine cat alongside her daughter. when the previous riverclan medicine cat died, she volunteered to go over to riverclan and fill in as temporary medicine cat- but she found she loved life there more than she ever did in thunderclan, and soon decided to reside there permanently. while tatteredstar could not care less about her moving clans (she always sensed pebblesky didn’t belong anyway), much of thunderclan tends to resent pebblesky, especially her other children, for “turning on them”. only emberblaze continues a close connection to her mother in their shared path of medicinehood. she is one of the older medicine cats, so she is looking for an apprentice.

emberblaze of thunderclan is a bit more extroverted than most of the other medicine cats. she’s the quickest of the group to resort to fighting, and her passions in medicine lay more with connecting to starclan than with healing. despite the constant battle for sunningrocks between thunderclan and riverclan, she has remained very close to her mother, who resides as riverclan medicine cat. she’s still fairly young, so it came as a surprise when she agreed to start training juncopaw.

juncopaw of thunderclan is logical and wise beyond his years. he’s an expert at dry humor. he balances his mentor out- while emberblaze is extroverted, quick to fight, and foused on the spiritual aspects of medicine cat duties, juncopaw is quiet, shies from fighting, and is focused on the more physical healing work of being a medicine cat. he tends to be very flat and unexpressive, which catches those who are unused to him offguard- however, he is definitely a caring fellow, who is already dedicated to his role and to his clan.

addertooth of shadowclan is the oldest of the medicine cats. he’s very shadowclan-ish in terms of appearance- small, ragged, with a dull pelt color and a bit of a ratlike face. he’s calm, quiet, and constantly exhausted- but he refuses to retire, similar to windclan warrior sandwhisker. he doesn’t seem to like currantstar very much. he’s very attached to his apprentice and current co-medicine cat, rosettepelt, who he regards as something of a daughter to him.

rosettepelt of shadowclan was a kittypet who was taken in from the clan when she became lost from her owners. being a bit of a self-described coward, she decided to be a medicine cat, and learned quickly. however, she is the opposite of the stereotypical medicine cat image: she is loud, chatty, bad at comprehending social cues, not exactly the brightest, and sometimes overemotional. other clans doubt her ability due to her personality and past, but in shadowclan she is beloved. while her collar has worn away because of her life in the woods, she still wears it as something of a sash, as she is emotionally attached to it.

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #honeyfur #whitetooth #marblepaw #pebblesky #emberblaze #juncopaw #addertooth #rosettepelt #my art

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away-from-anthills · 3 years ago

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chapter ten-

It was clear the russet-furred tom was hiding something.

Currantstar looked just as frantic as he was the prior night- darting around; breath light and shaky. Antstar and Stoatslink had to duck behind ferns and stones as they followed him to ensure he wouldn’t realize he was caught.

Usually, ShadowClan cats liked to keep their claws long- even Currantstar had had long, white claws the last time Antstar noticed them. But as the three cats went over the bridge, Antstar realized that Currantstar’s claws had all been chipped so they wouldn’t click as he went over the bridge’s pale wooden tiles. This was all planned in advance. Whatever Currantstar was doing here, it wasn’t something sudden.

The ruddy-colored tom took a sharp turn left, and the two WindClan cats scrambled to follow him.

“We’re on RiverClan territory,” sharply whispered Stoatslink.

“I know,” Antstar replied. “We can just tell them we’re following him.”

It became harder and harder to track Currantstar through the wetlands of RiverClan. The uneven, soft ground felt alien before Antstar’s feet. He turned towards camp as he and Stoatslink slipped between stones. Quite a few warriors were standing vigil for their fallen Clanmates, and the lights of their eyes looked like freckled, colorful stars from this distance.

“We have to be quiet,” he urged Stoatslink. “They’re all up.”

“You said they’ll go easy on us if we just tell them about Currantstar.”

“Does it look like I want to do that?”

Stoatslink looked suspicious at best. “You really like keeping secrets, don’t you.”

“I- never mind that, he’s getting away!”

They turned to see Currantstar make a sprint across a small, winding Thunderpath, just around where the little farm by RiverClan was. They followed him, picking up speed as they traveled parallel to the Thunderpath, carefully watching over their shoulders to avoid the fate that bad befallen the former deputy Rainleap a scant few moons prior.

Suddenly, the russet ShadowClan tom took a step right, into a little subdivision of Twoleg houses that lay just beyond the territory. He relaxed visibly as he did so, shoulders easing into his fur and his tail unfurling. Antstar and Stoatslink followed him from the shadows of the other side of the winding Thunderpath as he trod upon a little sidewalk. Currantstar’s head bobbed as he went, like he was counting each house he passed by- one green one, one pink one, one white one with a red door and a little birdbath in the front. Without looking at the ground, he leapt over an uneven crack in the sidewalk that could have easily tripped him.

“Does he get food here?” asked Stoatslink, his ears drawn back and the side of his lip curled in a look of disgust. “I guess that’s typical ShadowClan.”

But Antstar noted the excitement in Currantstar’s eyes was giddy, and boyish; far beyond the simple, gluttonous pleasures of Twoleg food.

Suddenly, Currantstar stopped in front of a small, periwinkle-covered house longer than it was tall. It had a garage next to it, where a small, plump olive-green monster slept. Two windows, each with a yellow glow, perched on either side of a darker blue door. Curiously, there was a little cat-sized flap on the base of the door. The house looked lived-in, but certainly much tamer, much more organized, far neater than the forests that greeted them only a short walk away, much more unsettlingly perfect than all Antstar had known.

The ShadowClan leader’s long, straight ears perked up. A small figure of a cat became visible in one of the windows. As soon as it was there, however, it disappeared. A few moments later, the flap on the bottom of the blue door began to shake.

One white foot emerged, then the other- out slid a beautiful dilute calico. She was small, but her short, cashmere fur was so neatly groomed it rounded out her features. Her face had a youthful quality to it- a small, curved nose, big teal-green eyes, and ears that seemed to just ever so slightly be rounded. Around her neck was a silvery collar with a stripe of white lace, decorated with a small, shiny jingle bell. She moved through the freshly-cut grass like water and thrust herself into Currantstar’s side, where he purred warmly and leaned into her.

“Why all the urgency, Calypso?” he teased in his smooth, crimson voice. “It’s only been a quarter moon.”

“It felt like a lifetime to me.” She had one of those voices that was light, but silky, with just enough of a darkness that she didn’t seem naïve. It had a unique accent to it- kittypet accent.

Kittypet accent was one of the things the Clan thought most terrifying about kittypets. Twolegs had a unique quality about them in that everything they were near seemed to turn into them. Kittypet accent didn’t have the gruff twang of ThunderClan, the smooth chirpiness of RiverClan, the dry snicker of ShadowClan, the harsh sharpness of WindClan, the nasally quality of SkyClan. No, kittypet accent sounded like Twolegs, and the more a kittypet was around them, they said, the more and more Twoleg they would sound until they were indistinguishable from the big, spider-pawed creatures.

But Calypso only had enough kittypet accent to be strange, foreign- and, therefore, desirable in the way only true mystery is.

“Currantstar, I must tell you something. About last night.”

Currantstar nodded, suddenly looking a touch uneasy. She stepped back, lifting up his scruffy chin with her tail to keep him interested, before she sat down, turning around gracefully.

“So, you know how last night I told you that I wasn’t sure if I was pregnant or not?”

Currantstar looked more and more uneasy. He already had looked to be in a disarray, but now he looked like an unravelling yarn sweater as he twitched and gripped the dewy earth.

“My Twoleg took me to the Cutter. Don’t worry - nothing happened. But I did learn that I am, indeed, pregnant.”

Currantstar looked to be a tad ill, his green eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. Antstar turned to address Stoatslink, but Stoatslink’s eyes were too glued to the drama unfolding before them for him to notice.

“You look nervous, darling.”

Finally, Currantstar managed to speak something beyond a vague stutter. “The Warrior Code- my mate-“ “You told me your Clan wouldn’t mind. Isn’t ShadowClan quite accepting of it?” Clearly, the red tom had lied to her. But he couldn’t reveal the truth now- no, he had placed himself upon a house of cards, although Antstar could not tell which card was which.

“You’re right,” he said breathlessly. He fell into her shoulder and she curled around him. “You’re going to be a wonderful father. We can split the kits up both ways- half with me and half with you…”

“Doesn’t Currantstar already have a mate?” asked Stoatslink, his eyes still glued to the two cuddling cats in the same way one can’t look away from roadkill.

“He… he does,” said Antstar. “Sleekpetal, his deputy’s daughter. And she’s- expecting his kits.”

Suddenly, the booing that Currantstar had received at the previous Gathering made too much sense. And Antstar made a horrid realization- if not even Currantstar, the paragon, the one who he had wanted to be, was perfect, if even Currantstar was hated by his Clan, if even Currantstar could be two-faced and adulterous behind the calm, charming mask… what chances did that give him?

The two WindClan cats turned to leave, but as they did so, they caught sight of a pair of blue eyes, blue like hot fires, in the distance. Antstar and Stoatslink hid behind a big, boxy black monster as they watched the little tom approach.

Stoatslink seemed positively giddy with anticipation as the bile fascination twisted upon itself. “It’s Whitestone- his deputy!”

Whitestone was an old cat, definitely one of the older deputies. His deaf ears had been chipped at like weathered stones; lumps had began to develop on his hind legs. His tail had a kink in it and hung loosely behind him, the tip dragging against the pavement. He had a permanently-furrowed brow, and his blue eyes were so weary they had developed a tinge of reddish-purple.

“Currantstar,” he called. At once Currantstar seemed to shrivel inward, and he nudged Calypso’s shoulder, trying to get her to turn away. But the dilute calico simply looked puzzled as she backed away two steps, her ears turning lopsidedly as she stared at the white tom.

Whitestone marched onto the grass, and walked up until he was only a whisker’s length away from his leader. He leaned up; his face pinched with suspicion.

“Mind explaining who this is?” he signed.

“Friend of mine,” Currantstar signed back- although it was difficult for him to keep his paws from shaking so hard that they interrupted his attempts to sign.

“Friend?” Whitestone didn’t look like he’d believed a word of it. “Friend. When everyone knows you’ve been sneaking out nearly every other night. When everyone knows you always smell of one molly or another.” He stepped back, indignance boiling in every inch of his body. “And we both know she isn’t the only one you’re seeing.”

“I can explain!” Currantstar yelled out on instinct. Remembering that his deputy was deaf, however, he signed back: “I can explain! Listen-“

“Explain what?” asked Calypso, trying to understand the signing between the two. The sign language the Clans had developed was not a universal one; although certain gestures were universally understood by all cats; she had been left out of the conversation entirely. At least one thing had worked in Currantstar’s favor here.

“You’re too focused on yourself- how you look, how you act, what mollies are fawning over you- to even consider your own Clan. Half of us can’t even go to Gatherings. Why? Because to you, we’re too ugly! We’re a shame to the other Clans, in your eyes- and for why? Everything you do is a façade, Currantstar, and you damn well know it- including whatever you’re stringing this kittypet along for!”

Currantstar stood still.

“You have no reply? What about your mate- my daughter? What about your unborn kits?”

Currantstar shot Calypso a nervous look. She didn’t understand.

Whitestone stood very still, his furrowed brows pushing themselves together into one as he continued to think. Something began to dawn on him, and he stepped back.

“When you made me deputy,” he began to sign, “back when you first became leader. You were courting my daughter.”

Currantstar nodded, seemingly realizing Whitestone had dawned upon some horrid truth.

“You… you made me deputy because you thought it would make her like you more, didn’t you? That’s all?”

Currantstar, again, stood still. His eyes stared directly at the little white deputy, but his mind was somewhere else, like it had taken an exit to keep itself safe and leaving the body alone in its place.

“ANSWER ME!” signed Whitestone frantically. “Did you make me your deputy just because of that? Because it would make you look better?”

Currantstar stood still for what felt like an hour, and then- slowly, surely- he nodded.

Whitestone drew back with a hiss, winding himself, every muscle coiling, his teeth starting to bear as an adder’s did… The white tom sprang. Currantstar dodged the blur, but just barely, and the white tom dragged him back. The two became a red-and-white tangle as they traded blows, Currantstar clearly trying to disengage as Whitestone’s anger grew hotter and hotter.

“Stop! Stop!” yelled Calypso as she began to drag the white tom away- but as she did so, Whitestone raked his claws across Currantstar’s face, creating a massive, nasty gash that framed the underside of his face and went down across the lip to his chin. In panic, Currantstar tried to hold the wound, to stop it from wrecking his otherwise-perfect face- but a part of him had to already know it was too late.

“You’re telling them, when you get back. You’re telling them why you have that gash. Who you’ve been seeing. And why I’ve chosen to resign as your deputy.” Whitestone grimaced with a sort of parental disgrace. “I’m not going to be your deputy just so you can convince my daughter, when you get back home, that you’re the kind of fellow who cares about her. Fickle bastard, Currantstar, you fickle, fickle bastard…”

Whitestone left, his pelt still red in some places where Currantstar had dealt him blows. Currantstar turned to look at Calypso, the slash in his face beginning to swell as wounds tended to do.

“We have to get you cleaned up!” she said, running up to him and analyzing him to ensure no other big wounds had been cursed to him in the fight. “Who was that, though? You seemed to know him.”

“Just some useless rogue,” Currantstar fibbed. “Trust me, everything’s fine.”

“I think I’ve seen enough,” said Stoatslink. He turned to go home, and Antstar followed, down the winding path out the neighborhood into the distant, whispering forest that lay beyond them and yet was so familiar.

They were silent on the way home, only breaking their contemplation once they crossed into WindClan.

“I mean, I guess Currantstar being like that makes sense,” Stoatslink admitted.

Antstar turned in his tracks. “Makes sense?”

“Yeah.” Stoatslink’s yellow eyes flickered with the light of the stars above them. They were slightly obscured by his large nose bridge, but Antstar could still see the suspicion that hung behind them. “He was too quiet. Too perfect. Too… well, I think all leaders have their dirty secrets. But I knew upon seeing him he had some particularly complicated sets of skeletons under his nest.”

“What do you mean, all leaders?”

“…Well, look! Tatteredstar has killed members of her own Clan, like she did with Rosefire. Tulipstar became leader without being decided on the prior leader or even her Clan; her medicine cat at the time lied to them all because he just happened to like her the most. Pigeonstar has definitely caused the deaths of several cats through needless, petty battle. Currantstar has… well, that. And you.”

Stoatslink’s eyes narrowed into two slits, like he was trying to put a name to something that never had one before.

“I’m sure you’ll have something. If you don’t already have something, that is.”

Antstar had to stop himself from jumping back. Did Stoatslink know? Had he figured it out? Or- even worse- was Antstar a suspect that he was trying to whittle away, slowly, inch-by-inch until he collapsed, like vultures scavenging the dead until the body falls apart entirely?

“Anyway, seeing that all unfold was pretty funny, I must say.” Stoatslink stopped at the entrance of the gorse-flower tunnel into camp. “Just remember what I told you about Sparkthistle.”

It was silent again. Antstar looked up at the stars above him. On a clear night, like this, he could see very far- all the clusters, the entangled shapes the stars made, Silverpelt stretching herself across the sky…

He remembered being a kit, staring up into that deep, wide sky. What was out there? What lay beyond the forest, beyond all he’d ever known?

A part of that magic remained, still, so long as he didn’t think about it too hard, so long as he only looked at it for a short while.

Then, a voice. Pawsteps, light and soft- that of a kittypet’s.

He turned to see Nightblossom. Nightblossom had been one of the cats who were once rogues but had become respectable warriors when Antstar had allowed them in. Her velvety black coat had been disrupted by scratches from the fight earlier that day. Her right ear had been nicked; the notch was still getting torn open, indicating that one day the entire top half of her ear would fall off.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

It had been the first time in a while he had heard her voice. She was quite unlike the other rogues that had been let in: Shrike and Audrey were content in the elders’ den. Juniperfang was a coarse creature who had meshed into the battle perfectly. Lilystone was a strong, silent type, and her ThunderClan-like muscle and stature made her a great fit for the tunnelers. Birchshine was not particularly talented, or intelligent for that matter, but what he lacked in natural gift he made up for in effort and kindness.

But Nightblossom had sunk into the background, like the shadow of a wallflower…

Antstar nodded and let her speak.

“I know I was really excited about joining the Clan with my friends. And… I still think the Clan is great. What it stands for, how everyone works together. But…” She faltered. Her tail slunk to the ground and stood still. “I just… I can’t stand the fighting we did today. And it wasn’t even for us. I don’t want to fight. I… I felt so sick, watching the SkyClan leader and his son…”

Antstar opened his mouth to protest, but already he knew it was too late.

“I want to leave the Clan. I love my friends, and the place, but… I just can’t stand the idea of fighting, let alone for something we really don’t have any part in. I’m not Nightblossom anymore. I’m Stella, like I was before.”

She began to walk away into the black night that bore her former name, her fur peppered with light from the stars above. Already, it was like she was slipping away into nothing.

“I wish you all the best. My friends already know I’m leaving- don’t worry about telling them.”

She walked away, towards the barn, slowly picking up speed like a stone was sliding off her shoulders. She disappeared nearly as soon as she was a strong distance from camp because of her black pelt. A few minutes later, something in Antstar’s heart grew heavy, and that was when he knew she had winked out of the world of the Clans and was gone.

But Antstar’s mind soon turned away from the black and into the white as another matter came to mind.

Stoatslink.

Horror gripped at him with its long, yellow talons. He couldn’t let Stoatslink die. Sparkthistle had nothing to her name, and was not missed- if she was, it was only her shadow and her what-could-have-beens that were mourned. But Stoatslink was a family man. Two daughters, both soon to take their final apprentice assessments, friends both in and outside WindClan…

But something had to be done. Stoatslink was, after all, practically snaking around the truth, around Antstar. And if Antstar was gone, the political implications for WindClan were dark ahead…

Stoatslink was a threat to the Clan. And he would continue to be a threat as long as he was aware, as long as he was on the trail near the gorge where Sparkthistle had been found. As long as he could nose through the lies- or at least as long as he attempted to.

After all, he was telling his Clanmates that he expected a murderer was on the loose. It was a matter of public security- a panicked Clan catches no prey…

Antstar felt his brain coil as it ran ten thousand tail-lengths a minute. Faster and faster it went, faster and faster he felt his paws go beneath him, until he stopped in the open doorway to the medicine den, breath shaky. As soon as he saw Whitetooth’s teal eyes greet him, he managed to gasp out breathlessly:

“We need to do something about Stoatslink!”

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #story

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away-from-anthills · 4 years ago

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chapter three-

(prologue) (chapter one) (chapter two)

Although WindClan was the closest of all the Clans to it, the road to Fourtrees had never seemed longer.

The thick-barked trees seemed to stare down at Antstar as he led WindClan towards the hollow. On one side of him was Whitetooth, always looking ahead and always alert; on the other side was Russetfoot, who Antstar had decided to make his deputy almost as soon as he had returned from the Moonstone when he had received his nine lives.

A shiver scattered down his spine as he remembered the events that had happened after the last gathering. Rainleap gone, in an instant; a Clan suddenly left midair after being thrown off the cliff. And yet in all the turmoil, he had risen triumphant.

Or at least that was the impression he had gotten. He was supposed to feel triumphant, wasn’t he?

It had been a long ladder for Antstar to climb from Clanless kit to leader of all of WindClan, but he was beginning to realize at the top that he had a fear of heights.

Eventually, Fourtrees began to come into view, and Antstar could identify the four feline figures who sat at the Great Rock. All of them- even Currantstar, although he had only been leader for about twelve moons- seemed so used to it all, not even reacting to the leagues of chatter that surrounded them. It was as if their paws had melded with the granite below them.

“And I thought ShadowClan was bad with being late…” Pigeonstar’s coarse tone rang out above the crowd. The blue-gray tom was sporting a new scar that framed his left cheekbone.

“WindClan will be here soon enough,” said Tulipstar reassuringly. She had a tangy quality to her voice- not hostile, but not exactly warm either, like a mentor about to take their apprentice to a rigorous day of battle training. “I’ve heard rumors that something’s happened to them. Surely Shalestar will tell us.”

Shalestar. That was another thing. How was Antstar going to explain all that? Rainleap and Shalestar, both dead in the span of a month.

Part of him worried the others would think he killed him.

WindClan dispersed into the clearing, blending into the crowds. Spiderpaw was, very clearly, trying her best to not brag about her mentor now being the Clan leader. Toadpool and Webwhisker were striking a pleasant conversation with a dark red tabby tom from RiverClan with tufted ears. Adderthorn, a rather reclusive WindClan cat, kept to herself, although her gaze seemed to be fixed on a small dark brown tom from ShadowClan who had a marbled coat.

“Come, Antstar.” Whitetooth, with Marblepaw by their side, led Antstar through the gathering crowd, weaving in and out of the clouds of conversation. Eventually, they reached the medicine cats, who were having a friendly debate about whether yellow or orange marigold was more effective.

“I leave you here.” They pointed their tail at the top of the rock, where an empty spot sat between Tulipstar and Currantstar. “Best of luck. May StarClan look upon your first gathering with smiling faces.”

With a bit of effort, Antstar leapt onto the rock. He was surprised at how smooth the summit was- as if generations of pawsteps had carved it.

“Greetings, Antstep.” Tulipstar bowed her head.

Currantstar, however, looked a tad more confused. “Have Shalestar and Rainleap taken ill? I wouldn’t expect Shalestar to skip a Gathering. That old workhorse would go even in downpour…”

Antstar stammered. “I…”

He looked to Whitetooth for a second, who gave him an encouraging nod. He then looked to the other leaders. Their eyes felt like hot coals launching towards him.

But he would have to say it now.

“…Shalestar and Rainleap both passed away this prior moon.”

A sudden commotion hit the Gathering. Cats of the other Clans looked to their WindClan acquaintances in shock; WindClan simply nodded their heads and sighed.

“Both of them? How?” Pigeonstar’s eyes narrowed as his face twisted itself from comprehension into a scowl.

“On the way back from the last Gathering, there was an accident involving a monster. Shalestar appointed me as deputy in his stead-“ -he shot a quick glance into the crowd, seeking approval- “-and he passed away of illness not long after. We in WindClan mourn them both greatly, and have spent the past moon grieving for them.”

Pigeonstar, however, looked unconvinced. “How do we know you didn’t kill them?”

Antstar felt ill, unsheathing his claws to keep himself from falling off the Great Rock from dizziness. But the SkyClan leader continued, fashioning himself the great detective. “For all we know, you could have killed Rainleap, made it look like an accident, have Shalestar elect you as deputy, and then kill him, too!” He drew his lips in a snarl. “And it doesn’t help that cats of your kind don’t become WindClan leader so easy.”

But then, Currantstar stepped forward. “Many of us in ShadowClan are not Clan-born, like Antstar here. One of my medicine cats, Rosettepelt, is among them, and she is one of the most gifted healers we know.” He advanced forward towards Pigeonstar, his gaze steady and stern. “So if you want to remain on positive terms with us, I suggest you watch it.”

Pigeonstar seemed as if he were about to say something, but reason got the better of him.

“Furthermore, my friends,” started Whitetooth from the medicine cat crowd, “I can assure you that Antstar speaks truth. I prepared both bodies and aided Shalestar in his final hours. As he lay dying, he was content with his choice in Antstep.”

There was a low murmur throughout the Gathering discussing the death of the old leader. Even though Antstar tried not to, he bent his ears towards the crowd to get a better listen.

“Well,” said Pigeonstar, “we have no proof he didn’t kill Shalestar, now, do we?”

Currantstar and Tulipstar looked unconvinced as they looked over the Burmese tom in front of them. “You realize Antstar was Shalestar’s own apprentice, Pigeonstar,” added Tulipstar dryly. “And Shalestar took quite the liking to him.”

Tatteredstar of ThunderClan, however, was studying him, very very deeply, like she was inspecting the double barrel of a rifle she was about to stuff with gunpowder. Finally, she stepped back. The massive molly sat down, her expression unchanged as always.

“I don’t think the boy killed Shalestar.” She spoke in a thick ThunderClan drawl. “But we shouldn’t underestimate him.” She paused, as if she was taking the moment to rehearse her thoughts to herself. “He’s got killer between his eyes.”

Killer in his eyes. Antstar felt unsettled. Killer? What does she mean? And why-

But the other leaders simply seemed to nod, as if a silent agreement had been reached that they shouldn’t further push Antstar.

Perhaps they all had killers dancing in their eyes.

Pigeonstar seemed to back off, although he didn’t look pleased.

“Is there any other news in WindClan to report?” asked Tulipstar.

“…There is nothing else to report.”

Antstar stepped back, and Tatteredstar began to prepare herself to speak. Tatteredstar’s mere presence alone made Antstar feel weaker. Tatteredstar was an almighty oak; massive, muscular, battle-scarred and a pillar of her Clan, he was a mere dandelion, who bent over and crumpled in the slightest breeze, beside her. Having a good look at her didn’t help. He saw more scars on her now than he ever had before- across her face, across her flank, even down her legs. Her claws were off-white and long, jutting out from the tufts of fur betwixt her toes, and while her fur was generally well-groomed, a mat or two seemed just under the surface in the ruff of fur around her neck. She had two bottom fangs that stuck out; they had yellowed in their years of exposure and her bottom lip seemed to have shaped itself around them. Her tail was short, compared to her body, and it would not surprise Antstar if she had lost part of it in the throes of battle. Her big, yellow eyes, which were surrounded by oily discharge that discolored her fur, seemed to both stare into the horizon and at whatever was in front of her at once.

“ThunderClan has been doing well this past moon. We extend our condolences to WindClan for their loss of Shalestar,” she began. “He was leader alongside me for many years. We had our disagreements, but I held the tom in high regard, as I am sure all of us do.”

Shalestar and Tatteredstar had been the two oldest leaders, Antstar recalled. She had been leader for about twelve seasons by the time Shalestar ascended, and while the two didn’t interact much and had their differences, there was an air of respect between the two.

Antstar recalled how hollow-looking and feeble Shalestar had appeared in death. Tatteredstar, however, had no sign of slowing down. He wondered how she managed to do it.

“We have been lucky to have had two healthy litters of kits born into our Clan. Sleetwhisker has given birth to two mollies, Vinekit and Shrikekit; and Sootspots has given birth to four toms and a molly, Mothkit, Fogkit, Stumpkit, Cedarkit, and Clawkit. In addition, Foxbriar is set to give birth to her kits within the next quarter-moon. We will have our paws very full… and it will also mean we will have more mouths to feed.” She shot a pointed glance at Tulipstar.

“Also- in addition- there was an attempted uprising by a ThunderClan cat named Rosefire.” The Gathering crowds pricked their ears- Rosefire was a cat who had been known by many for his friendly nature and how he disliked Tatteredstar and her deputy, Eelwhisker. He was a very vocal cat, and would often joke about starting genuine rebellion against them in order to pursue a dream of all five clans being united. Many thought he was a tad extreme, of course, but he was generally well-liked.

But Tatteredstar never minced words. “The so-called uprising was over as soon as it began. I dealt with Rosefire. You will not be seeing him again.”

There was a stunned silence.

It was only then that it really struck Antstar what cat he was dealing with. The matter of Rosefire, to Tatteredstar, was not a personal matter, and there was not a look of cruelty, resentment, or even annoyance in the ThunderClan leader’s yellow eyes. Rosefire had intruded on ThunderClan’s safety, and Tatteredstar had dispatched him. It began and ended there.

And then, Tatteredstar stepped back. “ThunderClan has nothing more to report.”

After what seemed like forever, Currantstar stepped up to speak. “ShadowClan has spent the moon recuperating after the fire we reported at the last Gathering. We are, again, very lucky that it did not affect us too harshly. Besides that, we have no new news to report; we are deeply sorry for WindClan’s loss of Shalestar and Rainleap.”

As soon as he had begun, he had ended. Antstar admired his charisma, his charm, the way he looked like a sculpture; Currantstar was a perfect leader.

And he had become leader so young, too. He and Antstar were about the same age, after all.

If he can do it, and be a perfect leader, I can do it, too…

“We have been experiencing difficulties with rogues on SkyClan territory,” Pigeonstar announced. “I suspect this is the same group that has been bothering RiverClan territory. However, we have fought them off successfully,” he said. He was very pointed with his words. “In addition, two of our apprentices became warriors- Bumbleshade and Silverskip.”

There was a round of cheer for the two freshly-graduated warriors. Pigeonstar then backed away, and Tulipstar, the very small white molly with ginger splotches, at long last took the stage.

“We are continuing to deal with the rogues on our territory. We have started to drive them off, but it’s a tough process. Just this moon alone we have had to deal with the untimely deaths of Yellowstripe and Sleekwater, and our resources are running dry. However, there is hope. Oatwhisker became a warrior this month, and one of our mollies gave birth to two fine young kits, Magpiekit and Frondkit.”

The little white-and-orange molly kept a steady eye on Tatteredstar- giving a clear implication about how much she wanted Sunningrocks. Their agreement would run out by the next Gathering- and, by the looks of it, Tulipstar had every intention to keep the territory.

Slowly, the gathering would down like a spring-powered toy. SkyClan was the first to leave; then ThunderClan, and then ShadowClan, until only WindClan and RiverClan were left. Antstar would have left earlier, but he still felt dizzy and his head felt sore from sheer mental pressure.

“Are you alright?”

He turned and looked down to see Tulipstar. She looked… genuinely concerned, or at least as genuinely as Antstar could convince himself another leader could be.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, as reluctance tried to keep his lips locked together.

“…You sounded nervous. I get it. Don’t fear the other leaders; they’re really not as scary as they like to make themselves out to be.” She thought on her words for a moment. “Well, except for Tatteredstar.”

“…What is it to you?” Antstar backed away slowly. Did she want something out of him? Then he doubled back in his mind- what if that sounded too rude, and now she was mad with him?

“Antstar, relax. I was especially close with your mentor and predecessor, Shalestar. We were very good friends, and under our allyship our two Clans were very close. I would like to continue that partnership with you.”

RiverClan had been friendly with WindClan for at least as long as Shalestar and Tulipstar had led them both. Slowly, Antstar let his guard down, correcting his posture so he didn’t look so hunched over.

“I would like to continue it, as well.”

“Great,” she said. She smiled, and Antstar could see how middle age had made her face look bony and her dimples more noticeable. “Besides- I was in a very similar scenario to where you are now, when I became leader.”

Antstar sat up in disbelief. Perhaps he wasn’t alone! Perhaps someone, somewhere out there… someone might just understand! “You… you became leader the same way?”

“Similarly. I mean- there weren’t as many accusations as you had to face from Pigeonstar, that joyless rat, because both my parents were RiverClan and the previous leader’s death wasn’t exactly a private occasion.” She leaned in, her jade eyes wide. “Did you hear about how I came to be leader, Antstar?”

Antstar shook his head.

“I feel you will find it very similar to your situation. The leader before me was a tom named Boarstar.”

Antstar remembered hearing of a Boarstar in nursery tales when he was a kit. Everyone knew him as a leader who had died in a battle he himself had started, but Antstar had not heard much of what he was like beyond that.

“Boarstar was very, very young when he rose to power, younger than you by a few seasons. He was a mean thing. Always picking fights with ThunderClan and WindClan, always on the attack. He was a serial womanizer and deeply narcissistic. Not many of us liked him much. He placed his brother, Oakbelly- who shared every ideal with him- as his deputy, and the two wreaked havoc on RiverClan. Boarstar lost his lives quite quickly because of all the battles he started…”

“So how did he choose you?”

“I honestly don’t think he did. We were in the midst of a battle with ThunderClan in their camp, and Oakbelly was fighting some ThunderClan cat while trying to get to the nursery. As he was taunting them, he made a miscalculation- and the ThunderClan cat shredded his belly open. And now, you know I and ThunderClan do not get along, but…” She smirked.

“And Boarstar?”

“Boarstar was filled with more rage than his namesake as he saw his brother bleed out… So he ran right to Tatteredstar herself and attacked her. She and him went one-on-one. It was a quick battle. I didn’t see much of it, but in the glimpse of his death that I got from the other side of their camp, she was clamping down on his head with her paws, crushing his skull.”

Antstar grimaced.

“The next thing I knew, the medicine cat rushed up to me and asked if I could take the mantle of leadership, telling me it was what Boarstar wanted in his last moments. In hindsight, it was probably the last thing he wanted, and the medicine cat was the one who made the decision. But it was my duty to my Clan, and so, I became leader. I cannot say the road of leadership has been an easy one, or a gentle one. But I want to be the cat for you who I wished was there for me.”

Antstar stepped towards her. “You mean, you’re going to help me?”

“I can’t lead for you, Antstar. Only you know your people. But I will be here as your mentor in leadership. Our Clans will be close. Feel free to ask me if you need help, and I will do my best to be there. It’s what Shalestar would have wanted.”

Antstar’s shoulders felt lighter. Someone out there was on his side!

“Trufflepelt, organize RiverClan so we can leave.” A tall, gaunt cinnamon tabby tom, twice the height of his leader, stood at the end of the hollow as the trademark plump bodies and shimmering pelts of RiverClan surrounded him. Pebblesky, RiverClan’s medicine cat, receded into the crowd, leaving Whitetooth and Marblepaw alone. They disappeared into the forests, southward; towards the faint smell of freshwater that beckoned from their territory.

Antstar stood alone on the rock for a moment. It was smooth, cold; almost calming now that the other Clans had left. He looked above and saw the leaves of the great oaks shiver above him; and a sky full of stars, who all blinked and winked as they stared upon him.

He heard pawsteps behind him, and turned to see the familiar face of Whitetooth, staring him in that inquisitive way they always did. “Are you alright, my leader?”

“…Yeah.” Antstar didn’t break eye contact as he stared at the stars above him.

“...You’ll get used to it,” Whitetooth added.

“I know.”

And then, after a further moment, Antstar left the Great Rock, where Russetfoot was already organizing WindClan to go home. Whitetooth followed, and then Marblepaw, and away they went, into the night.

“He did terribly,” said Sparkthistle dismissively as soon as the Gathering group got back.

“It couldn’t be that bad,” said Houndnose, a tortoiseshell tabby-and-white permaqueen, who emerged from the nursery with two of Cherrycloud’s kits clamping themselves onto her fur like a pair of bread clips.

“Oh, he made the biggest ass of himself- which is saying something because Pigeonstar was there.” The ginger molly rolled her eyes. “You really hate to see it. I’m astonished Rainleap hasn’t unearthed himself with all the spinning he must be doing in that grave!”

“Don’t talk that way about my brother!” growled Stripedwing, who was just outside the nursery. The gray tabby molly, who was visibly pregnant, had been inspecting the nursery while the gathering group was gone.

But Sparkthistle simply groaned and sauntered off, as if she was annoyed at Stripedwing for not liking the joke.

Antstar passed by the nursery, and something bit his foot. He looked down to see Brindlekit, a little tortoiseshell, gnawing at his toes. “Got you now, ThunderClan rat!” she squeaked.

“Brindlekit, that’s our leader!” said a ginger tabby tom-kit, panicked- but with a slight edge of authority. But Brindlekit, pugnacious as ever, simply pounced onto her brother, and the two began to wrestle. Eventually, Cherrycloud- her ginger coat near identical to the one of the little tom-kit- pried them apart. “Brindlekit, be nice to Antstar. Rosekit, it’s my job to parent her, not you.”

“Antstar! Antstar!” cried another ginger kit, who pushed her way out of the nursery between Houndnose and Cherrycloud. “Didja see Tatteredstar?”

“Is she really the size of a dog? That’s’ what Amberkit told me!” added a tiny solid black tom next to her. “…She’s big. Definitely one of the biggest cats I’ve seen. But not that big.”

The black tom-kit looked smugly at Amberkit, who seemed flustered that her descriptions weren’t accurate. But they had more questions to ask.

“Do the RiverClan cats really smell like fish?” “I heard ShadowClan eats frogs!” “Can Tatteredstar really kill a rat just by looking at them?” “Is the RiverClan medicine cat really secretly from ThunderClan?”

Antstar felt bombarded, but he still tried to answer each question. “They kind of do… they do eat frogs, but they seem fine with it… I don’t know, but she is scary… She is, and it’s not much of a secret, both Clans agreed to it…”

Cherrycloud gave a motion to the two kits, and they silenced themselves. “I’m sorry if they’re being a bother to you, Antstar,” she said apologetically.

“Oh, it’s no bother,” Antstar said. “They’re the next generation of warriors, after all.”

“Patchkit, would you like to say hi?” Cherrycloud asked to a little tortoiseshell, similar in shape and appearance to Brindlekit, who clung next to her. Patchkit gave Antstar a small glance and then buried herself further into her mother’s fur.

“She’s very shy and anxious,” Cherrycloud said. “We hope she’ll step out of her shell a little more soon.”

Antstar recalled he had been a similar way, as a kit. He recalled the permaqueen who had nursed him- a kind, pleasant molly who had passed away a few seasons ago from a wound infection- had a conversation with him about how he was then.

“You were a shy little thing. Very quiet, very meek. But when we were alone, you’d do these little tricks- kneading the ground, cuddling up to clumps of moss and cotton. It was cute, but… it was weird. It was like you were putting on a show for approval. And maybe it was coincidence- but sometimes it felt like you knew what you were trying to do.”

Antstar had thought about that a lot, since he had became leader.

“Oh,” Cherrycloud added, “and I’m sorry for how my sister, Sparkthistle, has been acting recently. We don’t talk much anymore. I will never understand why she has such a bug up her tail about everything... She should mellow down soon, I hope.”

She picked up Patchkit and went back into the nursery, with Houndnose alongside her and her other kits soon following. Antstar soon found himself alone again outside the nursery, the pale moon giving everything a glow. He saw Sparkthistle from across the clearing. The ginger tabby, her teeth in a permanent scowl, made brief eye contact with him before turning away into the warriors’ den.

Antstar worried. What if they began to believe her? What if she’s not an outlier- but an early critic? What if she turns the Clan on him? What if-

Something white caught his eye, and he turned to see Whitetooth, watching him from the edge of the medicine cat on the far side of camp.

He couldn’t fully read their face, but they had the glint in their eye of someone with an answer.

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #story

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away-from-anthills · 4 years ago

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decided it would be fun to draw the prior leaders before the current leaders in-story for each clan, just to see how they’d contrast!

i should add these guys didn’t all lead at the same time- i’d estimate tatteredstar has been leading for about 11 years, shalestar about 8 years, tulipstar about 6 years, pigeonstar 3 years, and currantstar 1 year.

wheatstar of skyclan was a good deputy, at the least. quiet, passive, deferential to his leader; organizing patrols was one of his greatest skills. he cared for his clan deeply. however, as a leader he was... subpar. he was quite a bit of a doormat to the others, avoiding battle at any cost. eventually, he was mocked for being a coward by all clans, and his own clan- for the most part- detested him. ‘pulling a wheatstar’ became slang for being a doormat. eventually, he decided to pick a scrappy young cat named pigeonfang as his deputy, hoping pigeonfang’s fearless-to-the-point-of-danger personality would balance him out and make up for his past mistakes. on his last life, he disappeared, his pawprints leading out of camp into the forests beyond. only he knew where he was going. the shame skyclan experienced because of him is partly why they rally around pigeonstar so much.

marigoldstar of windclan was a spitfire of a deputy. energetic, wily, and something of a showoff, she initially was made deputy to balance out the previous leader, a pragmatic and often cold sort. however, with unnecessary battles, she began to lose her spark, and when she had half-clan kits due to a fling with a shadowclan tom, the spark went away altogether. to avoid controversy, she gave them to another molly in windclan to raise, and while all went well and her children never knew of their biological mother, she always wondered about what might have been. as a leader she was deeply logical and became one of the most level headed of the group of leaders. however, she always tried to choose deputies who she felt were wise from the start and wouldn’t have to learn it like she did. this led her choosing shaleshadow as her deputy- and the rest, as they say, is history.

boarstar of riverclan was too young to be leader, in many cats’ opinion, and they had a good point. the young tom was only made deputy practically the day he got his first apprentice because the previous riverclan leader had ‘favors’ to return to his father. boarstar became leader at only about 2 years of age, and he soon spent these lives with needless battles that jeopardized the safety of his own clan. what happened, you might ask, that resulted in a molly named tuliptail- now tulipstar, who, in comparison, is far more gentle- to become leader? well- you’ll have to see, it’ll be covered soon. :)

indigostar of thunderclan was very much like tatteredstar is now, if a bit less... intimidating. they tended to take a far more administrative position to battle- commanding cats into battle and not so much being on the battlefield themself. this had both its pros and cons- it was one of the few things tatteredstar, often at the forefront of her troop, disagreed with them about- but otherwise, the two held very similar opinions. after all, it was indigostar who mentored tatteredstar. while tatteredstar employs different methods than her predecessor, and does seem ambivalent on her thoughts about having been elected as leader in the first place, tatteredstar deeply respects them and holds them in high esteem.

specklestar of shadowclan was, for the most part, the typical shadowclanner- scrappy, sly, and an opportunist. she carried deep pride for her clan, and for the most part was a staunch isolationist, priding in how shadowclan tended to repel the other clans just by looks and demeanor alone. but when shadowclan had a big rogue problem and no other clan dared to help, resulting in the loss of quite a few warriors, specklestar had an epiphany, and worked to ‘reform’ shadowclan’s image into something ‘palatable’- even keeping cats she deemed as ugly from attending gatherings. this is also why she elected currantstrike as deputy- the tom was handsome, charismatic, and smooth as silk. she is quite resented in the clan now after her death due to repressing shadowclan culture and enforcing other beauty ideals onto the clan, and- although currantstar tries to avoid it- that feeling is beginning to bubble over onto him, too...

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #wheatstar #marigoldstar #boarstar #indigostar #specklestar

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away-from-anthills · 4 years ago

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prologue-

How did they do it?

Antstep mulled the question over as his eyes remained glued to the massive boulder that sat squarely between the four oaks. Four figures sat positioned at the top, their ears pricked as they listened to the groups of chattering cats around them. The smallest of them was exchanging pleasantries with a large blue-gray tom. The largest, a ragged yellow molly, looked away to the north. The sleek gray tom next to her twitched his tail with impatience.

“Those ShadowClan buggers are always late,” he grumbled, but just as he finished his sentence the big yellow molly besides him shoved his shoulder. A group of small, skinny cats entered the clearing, led by a rather handsome red tabby.

“Greetings,” announced the red tom. He effortlessly leapt onto the rock as the conversations died down. “Pardon us for being late. Our youngest queen was giving birth, and it was not an easy one.”

“It’s always something, isn’t it,” started the sleek gray tom, but before he could finish the thought the yellow molly draped her tail over his muzzle.

“Shall we begin?”

The others nodded, and so the smallest of the group, Tulipstar, cleared her throat to speak.

Antstep had always admired Tulipstar. She was impeccably small, about the size of an apprentice, despite RiverClan cats like her usually being large and girthy. Some say it was due to a birth defect- but others in the elders’ den opined that StarClan had made her so small because otherwise she would simply be too much of a force to be reckoned with.

“RiverClan has not been doing well as we would have wished it to,” she admitted. “Rogue groups have been on our borders. We have allotted them territory for the time being to shut them up- but come these next few moons, when our apprentices are ready for battle, we shall take our land back.” She dipped her head and awaited the next cat to come forward and speak.

“SkyClan, however, has been doing wonderfully,” started the sleek gray tom.

“It’s always wonderfully, ain’t it, Pigeonstar!” heckled some cat near the southern edge of the clearing behind Antstep.

Pigeonstar’s face furrowed, and then he continued. “Our most recent batch of apprentices became skilled warriors, and I am pleased to introduce them to you by their proper warrior names at this Gathering. Everyone welcome Birchtail, Nettlebark, and Stoneclaw!”

Pigeonstar doesn’t usually mention new warriors so fast, thought Antstep, and then he looked over in the direction Pigeonstar was gesturing to to see three gray tabbies identical to the SkyClan leader. Oh- Of course he’s introducing them so fast. They’re his kits.

“The greenleaf drought has been merciful to SkyClan this year, and we thank it for that. Besides the apprentice graduations, little else of note has happened in SkyClan since we last met.” He sat back down. The red tabby stepped up to speak.

“While we in ShadowClan are not doing as well as we had hoped we would, we are doing quite well. You may have heard about the fire that recently destroyed part of our territory. While we are lucky that most of us have emerged safe, three of our warriors- Turtlewing, Darkwhisker, and Stormfoot- unfortunately lost their lives to the blaze.”

A ripple of condolences echoed throughout the clearing. Currantstar eased his body slightly, leaving the clearing a moment to understand. Antstep noted burn scars at Currantstar’s feet- clearly, despite Currantstar’s young age, this was a cat who took up the mantle of leadership fully knowing what it would entail. He seemed… almost perfect. The fact he was quite a handsome thing- especially for a ShadowClanner- didn’t help.

“However, tonight we celebrate new life within ShadowClan. Just before we left, Nightwater gave birth to four healthy kits, all her spitting image: Ravenkit, Blackkit, Sharpkit, and Juniperkit!”

Another ripple, this time of celebration, echoed throughout the clearing. Pigeonstar seemed slightly disgruntled that his children’s warrior names had not received as much applause.

As soon as he had begun, Currantstar stepped back. A gaunt, blue-gray tom stepped up. His face was long and bony, and his pelt was crisscrossed with scars. His eyes were weary, and the bumps of his spine were visible from age.

Antstep felt his chest swell as he watched the tom open his mouth to speak. After all, this cat had been his leader, his mentor, the closest thing to a father Antstep had known.

Shalestar, the almighty leader of WindClan.

“WindClan has been faring well this past Greenleaf. Like our SkyClan friends, we are lucky to be treated kindly by the drought.”

Antstep looked around. Rainleap, the WindClan deputy, stood just below the great rock, a proud grin on his face as he studied every syllable that left Shalestar’s lips. It was generally accepted within WindClan that, as Shalestar was upon his final life, Rainleap would soon ascend as Rainstar- and everyone deeply anticipated the spotted tabby’s leadership. He was charismatic, he was courteous. He knew everyone and everything in WindClan like the back of his paw to the point that, if you brought him a leaf from any weeping willow within the territory, he could tell you not just what tree it was from but the exact bow and branch it had resided upon. Rainleap was to become a wonderful WindClan leader- even Pigeonstar, the grumpy sod, seemed to appreciate him.

“However, the last moon has not passed by without its troubles. An illness swept through our camp. Nearly all of us survived- unfortunately, our dear Palefeather passed from the illness.”

There was audible sadness from some cats near the northern end of the clearing.

“You may recall her as our former medicine cat, who served us many moons before she retired to the elder’s den last leaf-fall. She was a wonderful companion to me in the darkest hours of my leadership. She was an extraordinary teacher, she was an adamant follower to the stars above, a devotee to her kin, and a gifted healer for all of us in WindClan. We miss her terribly.”

The medicine cats, who were in their own little corner off to the side of the Great Rock, seemed heartbroken by the news. Whitetooth, the WindClan medicine cat and Palefeather’s apprentice, looked more alone than ever, despite the sympathies uttered to them.

“However, with the end of a time, another always begins. I am proud to introduce our two newest apprentices- warrior apprentice Twigpaw and medicine cat apprentice Marblepaw!”

Twigpaw, who was directly behind Antstep with his mentor Molethroat, was lapping up the attention. Marblepaw, however, seemed alarmed. She leaned into Whitetooth’s side, and her mentor draped their tail around her.

“We also have a litter of kits to announce,” continued Shalestar. Molethroat couldn’t hold in his excitement. “Those are my kits!” he exclaimed to the mingling cats from other Clans. “They look just like my mate! I love them so much!”

Shalestar, however, was calm, even though there was a sliver of optimism in his voice. “We are proud to announce Cherrynose’s kits- Olivekit, Rosekit, Amberkit, Brindlekit, and Patchkit.”

“Oh, all of them are so wonderful,” continued Molethroat, his whiskers twitching with sheer joy. “Rosekit and Amberkit are so smart! They amaze me every day. And Brindlekit is so bold, and Olivekit is so thoughtful, and Patchkit is so kind… They sneak out of the nursery to wake me up from the warriors’ den nearly every morning. And my mate is so patient with them, I’m the luckiest cat in the world to have her. I tell you, I could go to StarClan tomorrow and I still would think I had the greatest life…”

Antstep looked around. WindClan was as peaceful as he had ever known it to be. Goldenpaw and Milkpaw, two WindClan apprentices, signed to each other, poking fun at the other leaders. Russetfoot, Rockscratch, and Emberheart, three WindClan warriors, were chatting to a trio of RiverClan cats. Even Sandwhisker- the sister of Palefeather, and the oldest WindClan warrior- looked content, despite the loss she had suffered the prior moon.

Antstep never knew if he would fully fit in WindClan. But this is a WindClan he was, for the most part, content living alongside.

A cold chill snapped Antstep out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the largest cat take the stand as Shalestar stepped back.

Tatteredstar had been ThunderClan leader for a very, very long time. She had been one of the most formidable fighters ThunderClan ever knew- and the scars crisscrossing her pelt gave plenty to show for it. She could kill a rat just by looking at it from the right angle, they said. No leader dared to mess with her.

“ThunderClan has been doing pleasantly enough. Juncopaw, who you may recall from his introduction last Gathering, has elected to train as a medicine cat, and so he will be trained by Emberblaze. I expect her to pass down all she knows to him. We have many mollies due for kits within the next moon. We are all very excited about it- but it will undoubtedly mean ThunderClan has more mouths to feed.”

Without warning, she turned to Tulipstar. She was nearly thrice as large as the RiverClan leader, and she easily had dozens more scars. “I am making a request that RiverClan gives up Sunningrocks to us immediately. I understand this is sudden news- but RiverClan, if they know what is best for themselves, will back off of the territory.”

Many incensed RiverClan cats jumped up to speak- but most of them found their words lost when Tatteredstar shot them a pointed glare.

Tulipstar, however, stepped towards Tatteredstar, nothing breaking her green gaze as she stared upwards to the massive yellow molly. “RiverClan has fought for seasons to keep Sunningrocks. We, too, need the territory, for our own mouths to feed. I thought we had reached an agreement last leaf-fall that RiverClan could hold the territory until the leaf-fall after. We still have a season left on that agreement.”

“Old agreements mean nothing now.”

“If ThunderClan wants more mouths to feed, expand the territory elsewhere, Tatteredstar. We both know your warriors are capable. They will not be intruding on RiverClan’s hard-earned territory.”

The two mollies slowly inched towards each other, their noses wrinkled and their lips slightly curled. The tension between them was palpable, and no other leader dared to speak. This was Tulipstar and Tatteredstar’s score to settle and theirs alone. Their respective deputies, Trufflepelt and Eelwhisker, tried to shuffle towards them- not only to back them up but to pull them away from each other if claws were unleashed.

The clearing went dead silent.

Even though WindClan was in no way involved, Antstep felt fear coursing through his veins as he watched the two leaders stare at each other inches apart.

Then, Tatteredstar sheathed her claws into the matted fur that bunched at her feet. “You’ve got a nerve in you, runt,” she said, with hints of respect and perhaps even something resembling affection. “RiverClan can have Sunningrocks for now.”

The two backed away from each other, Trufflepelt and Eelwhisker eased, and the tension slipped away as the murmur of Clan cats returned.

“I suppose the Gathering is over, now,” Shalestar said. “Let us return to our camps in peace.”

As Rainleap began to organize WindClan, Antstep still felt adrenaline rush through him from the confrontation between Tulipstar and Tatteredstar- as well as a bit of awe. The way all the leaders composed themselves so well. The way Tulipstar didn’t back down, the way Tatteredstar knew when to call it quits. The charisma of Currantstar, the pride of Pigeonstar, the wisdom of Shalestar…

How did they do it? How did they all do it?

Antstep felt a kitlike wonder- and a kitlike envy. He turned to see Rainleap nod towards the journey home, the light of the moon shining in the WindClan deputy’s lime-green eyes. As Molethroat and Rockscratch chattered behind him, Antstep let himself get lost in his thoughts. Rainleap will make a wonderful leader- I wonder how his first gathering will go… I wonder how I’d do. I mean, of course Rainleap will be the next leader. Everyone knows that. But it must feel nice to be up on that rock, to be there with the greats… To be loved by your Clan. I wouldn’t want the stress, of course, but… I would want that.

Wouldn’t anyone?

Little did Antstep know, his life was on the cusp of changing forever.

#warrior cats #story

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away-from-anthills · 3 years ago

Text

chapter seven-

A couple of weeks later, the sky felt wet with heat, despite the beautiful, almost green tinge that hung above White Hart Woods.

Russetfoot was uncharacteristically panicky, Antstar had to note, but the red tom was trying his best not to look the part. How could he not be, really? Stripedwing was due with their kits for that very night- and by Whitetooth’s estimations, given the size her abdomen had swelled to and peculiar instinct only medicine cats and queens could pick up, it would be a large litter. However, when Antstar had offered Russetfoot a break from assigning patrols, Russetfoot shook his head- this was his duty, he said, and his alone.

“Nightblossom, Juniperfang, Emberheart, Webwhisker, would you all go on the night patrol?” he asked. Nightblossom and Juniperfang were once part of the misshapen band of loners that Antstar had recruited; they had received proper warrior names- along with Birchshine and Lilystone- at a ceremony a few days prior. Antstar had given them purposely fancy warrior names, both to ease them into the Clan easier and to set himself apart. Good names make for good publicity in leader-speak, he had heard.

“I was already on the patrol in the morning,” said Juniperfang flatly.

“Oh- well- that’s okay! Would anyone like to be on the patrol?...”

He looked around, almost sort of aimlessly, until his eyes met with Sandwhisker’s. “I’ll join,” said the old pale molly.

“You don’t have to-“

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She laughed a bit- her voice was tangy but slightly crisp, like an orange beginning to dry in the sun. “You and Antstar act so funny about me. You know, he was trying to get me to join the elders’ den just a week ago. I don’t think he understands. I don’t know how much life I got left-“ she shot a glance at the elders’ den- “-but I don’t intend spending the rest of it rotting around in camp.”

“It’s better than whatever the hell you’re doing,” joked back Talonscar, who was in an unusually light mood. “You’re gonna dry up like leather eventually if you keep runnin’ around, thinking you’re still a spring hen!”

“I’m surprised you haven’t turned into a bat with all the sleeping and lounging in caves you do,”

she shot back to them before walking off with the other cats who had been selected.

“You mad hare of a molly!”

“Lots of talk, coming from old ragged-ears!”

Why was Talonscar so cheerful? Antstar thought. Usually, they’re just sort of bitter and quiet. …Right! The Gathering! It’s tonight!

Besides the glimpses of ShadowClan and RiverClan on the borders- and, of course, the time RiverClan had helped them, although Antstar was trying his best to forget it- Antstar had not heard much of what the other Clans had been doing. It worried him, at times. ThunderClan could take on anyone in the forest and win if they wanted to, and SkyClan was too volatile to be left to their own devices. They shared no borders with his Clan, but Antstar sensed that if something were to happen, conflict could spread to WindClan quicker than the crow flies.

When the patrol returned, he decided, he’d round up the Clan to go.

Stripedwing’s cry cut through the air like a slightly-dulled knife. Antstar could not see much beyond the yellow grasses that lined the nursery, but he heard whispers of “They’re coming!” as the permanent queens huddled around. Cherrycloud left the nursery, bringing her kits with her, just as a panicking Russetfoot rushed inward.

“Why do we have to leave?” protested Amberkit.

“I was comfortable, and I forgot my moss ball!” added Brindlekit, with crumpled frustration only a kit could muster.

“Let Stripedwing have her privacy,” she said simply. “And I don’t want any of you getting in the way.”

Whitetooth leapt out of their medicine den, practically flying over their Clanmates. Within mere seconds they had slid into the den between Sparrowpetal and Houndnose’s flanks, and Antstar could hear them take authority: “Here, madam, lie down on your side. Marblepaw-“ they flicked their head out of the nursery entrance, towards where Marblepaw stood near a camp wall. “Bring me a stick of good size.” Then, they nudged Russetfoot out of the den. “With the queens and I, it is already crowded enough. Stay out here until I give you permission.” Russetfoot began to protest, but stopped mid-word and sat down. Rockscratch joined him, and the two brothers began to share tongues in order to keep Russetfoot’s mind off of the birth unfolding behind him.

Wait, realized Antstar. If Russetfoot will be with his mate, and Whitetooth will be busy with the birth…

The commotion felt as if it would continue forever, and Antstar- trying not to look overly nosy- kept trying to shoot glances into the den from where he was sitting. Then, after what must have felt like eons, Antstar heard a kit’s cry, and saw the faintest moment of Whitetooth holding a small, dark red bundle.

He felt the patrol arrive beyond him. For a second, he inched towards Russetfoot, but the expression on Russetfoot’s face gave him all he needed to know.

For a second, his mind wandered to Marblepaw.

But he could not let her escape her mentor.

He felt lonelier than ever, walking to Fourtrees that night, despite half his Clan being behind him.

Russetfoot, his best friend and the cat he wished he was, was in camp, and Whitetooth was bringing his offspring into the world. How strange it was, Antstar thought, that the very same cat who had watched emotionless as Sparkthistle’s throat closed and her heart gave out was now prying out and beholding life. An end to one story, the beginning to another.

Then Antstar remembered. Whitetooth had no attachment to life or to death, to good or to evil. Their sole allegiance, it seemed, was their role as a medicine cat- no matter what that had entailed.

No sooner than he had arrived did he see Fourtrees open itself in front of him, like a pop-up book. The trees seemed taller than ever, looming over him; for a moment Antstar thought he saw pairs of eyes meet his gaze from the dark leafy branches. SkyClan was already here, as was ThunderClan; he could see the silhouettes of RiverClan cats on the horizon.

“I’ve heard Twolegs call this place Druid’s Hollow,” said Nightblossom to Lilystone, her yellow eyes pried wide with the new sights and sounds around her.

“What’s a Druid?”

“No clue. Some Twoleg nonsense, I bet.”

Antstar leapt up onto the Great Rock. He could see the medicine cats that had already gathered looking around with confusion.

“I hope they’re alright,” said Honeyfur, SkyClan’s medicine cat. He was large and rather oafish, but quite docile- a far cry from the other SkyClanners Antstar had interacted with, who shared Pigeonstar’s white-hot temper.

“They’re fine,” Emberblaze assured. “They’re probably busy. Russetfoot is gone too, so something must just be happening. Like how Rosettepelt wasn’t at the gathering a few moons ago because she was monitoring a sick apprentice. Things happen.”

“I do worry about Marblepaw, though,” Honeyfur added. “Poor little thing. Whitetooth treats her well, but she looks so lonely. Every time she looks at her mother it’s like she’s been abandoned all over again…”

Antstar had never pried into Adderthorn’s private life, but it was no secret her kits were unplanned. And Antstar had a working theory as to why- any time she was at a Gathering, her eyes were glued to a ShadowClan tabby who bore striking resemblance to Marblepaw and Twigpaw. He never said much about it- it was none of his business, and besides, one secret could spill another.

“Hello, Antstar.” He fell out of his thoughts to see Pigeonstar and Tatteredstar staring towards him. Antstar noted they were physically quite close to each other. Unusual- Pigeonstar almost always liked to keep a distance, as did Tatteredstar.

“Hi.”

“We heard about Sparkthistle’s passing from a RiverClan patrol,” said Tatteredstar, bowing her head. “Deepest apologies.”

“I- thank you.” He wanted to think about Sparkthistle as little as possible. Part of him worried: What if he told everyone about it on accident? What if-

Then, a calming, river-like scent flowed through the Fourtrees air, and Antstar turned to see RiverClan. From the Gathering rock, he noted, their numbers looked quite small, compared to ThunderClan and SkyClan’s. Tulipstar lead them, although she was hard to spot among them because of her size. She leapt up onto the Gathering rock and bowed her head, before turning to Antstar. “Did you-“

“- Yes, we buried her. Near the farm.”

“I’m so sorry about it.”

“Thank you.” He knew Tulipstar was trying to be nice, but the constant mentions of the cat he had in part killed made him feel dizzier.

“Now we wait for ShadowClan,” Pigeonstar huffed. “Always late...”

“Don’t complain,” said Tatteredstar, nudging him. There was a peculiar closeness to the two leaders this particular Gathering- not one of fondness, but definitely some sort of bond. Were they working together? And why?

After a few more minutes of small talk, ShadowClan finally entered the clearing. Antstar had to admit he looked forward to seeing Currantstar most of all. The tom was something of a reminder to him that there was hope for him. Currantstar was a paragon- not even Pigeonstar could find complaints with him, besides how he tended to be late at Gatherings. The ruddy-colored tom leapt up onto the Gathering rock, his eyes almost permanently in a calm, nearly half-lidded expression. He and Russetfoot were the cats Antstar wished he could be, instead of the reflection that greeted him every time he got himself a drink. Chatter continued to ripple through the clearing until Pigeonstar gave a yowl.

There was a long silence, until Tulipstar tapped Antstar’s side with her plumy orange tail. “You go first, Antstar.”

Right.

“Well- uhm- WindClan has been doing mostly well. My- uh…“ He looked around to see Pigeonstar and Tatteredstar, who were reacting to him with what was at best an expression of secondhand embarrassment. “My deputy Russetfoot and his mate Stripedwing are having their kits tonight, and that’s why my deputy and the medicine cats aren’t here. Also, we found a group of loners on the edge of territory and took them in; two elders and four warriors: Juniperfang, Nightblossom, Lilystone, and Birchshine.”

“Of course, the loner cat lets in more loners,” snickered a cat from below with a sharp SkyClan accent. Antstar pretended not to hear them.

“We have three new warriors; Spiderfoot, Coalclaw, and Sparrowpetal. Finally, you may have heard already- I know RiverClan has- but one of…” His breath was shaky. He took a moment to capture it again before continuing. “One of our warriors, Sparkthistle, tripped over the gorge and drowned in the waters below. RiverClan helped us locate her body, and we are thankful for their help.”

There was a murmur of condolences- but a rather half-hearted one. Sparkthistle was not a popular cat in other clans, either.

“It has been an eventful moon, but- but not one we can’t handle. I have nothing else to report.” He stepped back, catching his breath. Someday, he thought, he’d try to get used to this.

“RiverClan has been doing alright, but not as well as we hoped,” added Tulipstar. “There has been less fish in the water than usual, and it has been taking a toll on us. In addition, we worry about Greencough rippling through our clan. While all those infected are currently on the mend, it worries us greatly, as it is a stubborn illness to deal with. However, I have optimism that things will be on the mend. Owlpaw has become an apprentice; he is Squirrelface’s first.”

There was a cheer for the little dark brownish-gray tom, who sat next to his mentor near the front of the crowd. Antstar looked at Squirrelface, who he had recalled as the son of Redfeather, the cat who had helped WindClan find Sparkthistle’s body. He was her spitting image, albeit visibly younger, and his eyes glowed with the pride and the daunting experience of one’s first apprentice. There was something slightly haunted and hunted, however, behind that pristine red-furred expression- and given what Antstar recalled having been told about his youth, he figured there was something more to what Squirrelface saw in his apprentice.

Currantstar stepped forward. “We in ShadowClan have been doing pleasantly. The charred remains of the fire from a couple of moons ago have given way to new life, and prey is returning to normal levels. Besides that, however, we have no news to report.”

Antstar shot a glance into the ShadowClan crowd to see their reactions to their leader- something he had neglected to get a good look at before. But what he saw shocked him. Despite how flawless he had thought Currantstar to be, ShadowClan’s denizens were looking at him with scorn. A calico and a golden tabby in the first row were trading whispers of insults about their leader with each other, and a white molly with pale gray patches seemed too hurt to even look at him. Even Whitestone, Currantstar’s deputy, seemed to regard his leader like he was the aftertaste of a rotten piece of meat. But why? From what Antstar saw, everything Currantstar did was perfect…

But he had no time to ruminate on it, as ThunderClan and SkyClan stepped up to the plate.

“ThunderClan,” Tatteredstar announced, “is having an unprecedented number of kits. In addition to Sootyspots and Sleetwhisker’s litters, Foxbriar had her own litter of three just a quarter-moon ago: Spanglekit, Turtlekit, and Maplekit. We also found a stray abandoned litter on the border, which Sleetwhisker has taken in as her own to raise: Seedkit, Yarrowkit, and Ryekit.”

Antstar soon realized why she might have taken in the abandoned kit litter: Sure, it would be against Code otherwise. But she was also using them to boost population numbers for whatever point she was going to make here. Thirteen kits had more persuasion power than ten.

And then it began to hit Antstar. If Tatteredstar was using them for that… back when he had been taken in as a kit… Did Shalestar-

“Thirteen kits is a massive number- not one I myself have seen since I was young. But if we are to raise them, especially in the upcoming fall… we are going to need plenty of territory.”

Antstar began to see where this was going.

“That’s why,” Pigeonstar stepped in, “I and Tatteredstar have struck a deal. We will share more territory than usual for the upcoming six moons. SkyClan will provide more territory for ThunderClan to hunt upon, and ThunderClan will be our allies in battle in exchange.”

Tatteredstar, however, seemed unpleased that Pigeonstar had interrupted her. “However, even with our alliance we are uncertain of if we will have enough.”

Their gaze turned to Tulipstar, who suddenly looked like a flower between stones, trying her best to blossom.

“And you will recall, Tulipstar,” Tatteredstar continued, “that our deal has run out, now that we are on the brink of leaf-fall.”

“I- yes.”

“So we will be asking if we can have Sunningrocks. From you.”

Antstar watched as Tulipstar suddenly struggled in place. She stammered, looking for something to say; she struck a glance into the crowd of RiverClan cats behind her. “I am aware, Tatteredstar, our deal has run out. But is SkyClan’s grounds not enough for you?”

No reply. The clearing was so silent that one could practically hear a shrew think.

“You have asked for Sunningrocks. But with my Clan already on the brink, with illness and hunger mingling among us and with Sunningrocks being our current best hunting spot… I can’t in good conscience grant you it.”

“Well, well,” said Pigeonstar. Tatteredstar however only flicked her ears in response.

“If you will not let us have Sunningrocks, I am afraid we will have to resort to more extreme measures. I would not want this for us- your Clan is outnumbered.”

Tulipstar turned to Antstar and Currantstar, a flash of desperation peppering her jade green eyes. For a moment, Currantstar stepped forward, only for sharp cries of anger to ring out from his Clan.

“What has RiverClan ever done for us?”

“Don’t sacrifice us to them to make peace, you son of a bitch!”

“Oh, now the fickle coward’s going to tell us about how important loyalty and unity is!”

Antstar still couldn’t wrap his head around why ShadowClan seemed to detest Currantstar so much. For a second, he opened his mouth to defend him, but he realized it would only make matters worse. The damage was done, and Currantstar stepped back, bent over as if he were about to fold into himself and be gone. Antstar turned to see Pigeonstar’s teal eyes and Tatteredstar’s wearier yellow ones burn into him like comets upon the Earth.

And yet…

He had to make a decision here. Tulipstar’s guidance was invaluable to him. He couldn’t let that go.

“I’ll fight with RiverClan,” Antstar butted in. “Or rather, we will. They have been a close ally for many moons.”

He looked to WindClan, who seemed hesitant but open about the idea. He caught Molethroat hesitantly eyeing the bulky ThunderClan warriors. Even Toadpool, stalwart as ever, looked slightly uncertain. But the younger warriors, like Spiderfoot and Juniperfang, burned with ambition; the courage only a cat under two years old could truly have.

“Thank you, Antstar,” said Tulipstar, the tenseness leaving her body like a slowly-draining water spring. Pigeonstar seemed insulted, but Tatteredstar remained absolutely still, analytical as always, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two leaders against her like a clock pendulum.

“Fine, then. We shall battle at noon a week from now. If RiverClan and WindClan win, we will let you keep Sunningrocks. And if we don’t…” She narrowed her gaze- she did not need to finish the sentence.

Antstar made no conversation on the way back, his ears pinned flat against his head. Would WindClan hate him for what he had chosen? He hoped not. Most WindClan cats seemed to like RiverClan, after all. Was he overthinking?

The gorse flowers that marked home were a welcome sight. Antstar wanted nothing more than to rest in his den and sleep- it was like the other leaders had drained his energy.

But he would not get rest, as Rockscratch greeted him immediately straight to his face. “There’s seven of them!”

“Seven of-?” Antstar attempted to ask, but he was cut off.

“Seven kits! I’ve never seen a litter so large! Oh, Russetfoot’s going to have his paws so full…”

Seven? Antstar tried his best not to look nervous. That meant seven warriors, yes, but also- seven mouths to feed, seven apprentices to track and train… With Cherrycloud’s litter, that meant WindClan nearly had enough kits to rival ThunderClan’s supposedly massive amount.

Whitetooth greeted Antstar, smelling of kit fluid and freshly-nursed milk. “There’s seven of them, yes. Most of them are strong and healthy, exception being the runt of the litter, but that’s usually the case. The parents are very tired, they’ll show you them tomorrow.”

“How will we manage seven kits?”

“Same way we always do, my friend,” Whitetooth reassured. “They have excellent name choices, too. There’s Rustkit and Aphidkit, the dark red tabbies; Runningkit and Dewkit, the gray tabbies; Wheatkit, the fawn tabby…”

Antstar already felt his head spin with all these new names.

“-And Mousekit and Thistlekit, the brown tabbies. Thistlekit is the runt and the weakest of the litter, but I assure you he is not as weak as he may seem.”

“That’s…”

“It is a lot, yes. An unusual amount. We are very glad fortune has smiled on Stripedwing, as she seems well. We have enough queens to care for the lot of them.”

Antstar nodded along, making a mental note to himself to reassign Goldenpaw’s mentorship to Webwhisker. She had originally been Shadeflower’s apprentice, but she had drifted away from queenhood and Shadeflower clearly had her paws full.

“Do you have any concerns, Whitetooth?”

Whitetooth thought for a moment, but simply shook their head. “No- not that I know of.” Their eyes narrowed. “But if you ever need anything, you know who to ask.”

Away they slunk to the medicine den, Marblepaw greeting them at the entrance. Even from the other side of camp, Antstar could see a glint of fear in her sunset-colored eyes.

Part of him wanted to do something.

But a larger part of him was wise.

Antstar barely has turned around, however, before another Clanmate of his greeted him with bright yellow eyes. It was Stoatslink, looking unusually alert even for how alert he was. He was a rather stiff, sinewy fellow, with a snout that was round and exaggerated like a bull terrier’s. His fur was short and white but very coarse to the touch, always flattened against his body to the point you could often see his muscles peek out beneath them. His eyes were small and often at a squint, yet they still were the yellow of gorse in full bloom.

“I have to talk to you about something, Antstar. It’s beginning to worry me…”

Antstar nodded, and Stoatslink motioned for them to leave camp together. Something terrible and black and cowardly began to bubble in Antstar’s belly as he remembered who he had often once seen Stoatslink with…

It was a peaceful night, now that the clamor of the birth had died down and cats were falling asleep one by one. He could hear Birchshine and Emberheart chattering in the distance as the two cats took up the night watch, and, faintly, the soft hoots of the first owls to awaken.

“I know RiverClan said Sparkthistle drowned.”

Immediately, Antstar felt nauseous.

“But I can’t help but think something else happened. I mean, hunting out on her own? In the dark of night, just before a storm?” He shook his head.

“I think something else had to have gotten her… and they used the gorge as a cover-up.”

Antstar felt as if his heart was pulling itself apart, into smaller and smaller pieces. He wanted to crawl into himself like a snail into its shell. Part of him wondered- should he already give himself up? Should he tell? Should he also say Whitetooth-

“Now, I don’t think it was anyone in the Clan.”

Relief sprang across Antstar, although it felt fleeting.

“I trust Whitetooth. I think they’re telling the truth. Besides, Sparkthistle had her enemies outside the Clans. She’d go over and pick on the barn cats when she was feeling restless. She’d get into spats with them. I tried to warn her not to, but she was on a path to self-destruction. Not even the will of StarClan could stop her.”

“So…” Antstar tried not to fidget in place. “What do you think happened?”

“I could see her going out on her own.” He looked off into the distance sagely, and Antstar could see the gears of his mind turn like a polished watch. “I think a loner cat- one she would have been enemies with- came across her and had enough of her. They probably strangled her, given the lack of blood, and then threw her into the river to cover their tracks.” He clicked his tongue. “And the storm would act as a perfect curtain, washing away the scent.”

Antstar wasn’t sure if he should have felt hidden, safe, just escaped from his own doom; or exposed, just an inch away from his downfall.

“I think that’s a bit of a reach.”

“It might be, Antstar. But I worry. Sparkthistle was on her way to Hell, no matter what anyone- including myself- said otherwise. But there’s the off-chance that this stranger had a vendetta against our very Clan.” He looked back to camp, where his daughters, Milkpaw and Goldenpaw, were falling asleep trading gossip and sly insults about the other Clans with Twigpaw. “I worry about my kits, I guess, that’s all. I wouldn’t want them to suffer that fate. Or lose me to whoever this stranger might be. I was Sparkthistle’s closest thing to a friend, after all. They already lost their mother… I can’t bear the idea of them having a warrior ceremony after all.”

There was a long silence between them, punctured only by whispers from beyond.

“I dunno. Maybe I’m wrong and she really did fall over into the gorge like that. But if I see anything suspicious… I’ll tell you about it.”

Away the wiry white tom went into camp to sleep, and Antstar found himself alone once again, surrounded by his own Clan.

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #story

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