#empty healer's den!!

[elementclangen]

Moon 340-Greenleaf

Spirits are high in the Clan as it coasts into greenleaf.  For the first time since Bumble (117) has been in the Clan, the Healer’s den is empty! The head healer celebrates the occasion by coming out as a trans she-cat!  Go Bumble!   Bumble has noticed that Blizzardpaw (10) is feeling lonely and spends some time hanging out with him in the healer’s den.  She hopes that he knows that he’s valued.  Bumble wonders if Aries (106) feels the same way she does and spends some time eavesdropping on her.  The only thing she overhears is Aries complaining to Hopcurl (58) about how she wishes her clanmates would just solve their own problems.  Hatchswipe (85) spends some time with her old friend Kestrelcreek (129), catching up on the news.  Embershell (58) and Hopcurl are also doing some bonding time.  The littermates spend some time sparring and exchanging stories about their kithood.  They miss their parents and Echoarch, but they are so glad to have each other.  Some cats aren’t so lucky.  Like Ryepaw (10), who wonders if he’ll ever see Gravelkit again in StarClan.  Do dark-cursed cats even go to StarClan?  Hopcurl comforts him and reassures him that yes, dark-cursed cats do.  Her grandmother and great-great grandfather were dark-cursed and are both in StarClan. !  Most of the time, Sofanthiel (129) tries not to dwell on her kittypet past.  But, every now and then, she wonders what happened to the twolegs who abandoned her.  She doesn’t wish them ill.  Them doing that led to her joining the Clan, which is one of the best things that ever happened to her.

Healer’s den: EMPTY!!!!!!!!! (first time!)

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 141 }

slow dancing in the dark.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ when i’m around slow dancing in the dark | don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms. }

there was an indescribable pain felt in the pit of your stomach when you saw jinwoo dancing together with hae-in.

chairman go gunhee had decided to hold a ball of some sort, wishing to celebrate the powerful hunters worldwide as he booked the ballroom of a luxurious hotel for this occasion. being a well known a-rank healer, of course you were invited as well.

but what you weren’t expecting was to see jinwoo entering the party with hae-in hanging on to his arm.

and oh, how the paparazzi basked in their grand entrance!

cameras flash, taking different angles and what seemed like a million photographs of jinwoo with hae-in. while jinwoo was dressed in a cream colored suit that seemed to fit him to perfection, hae-in complemented him by wearing her own sleek dressed colored in gentle, peach hues.

the sight of them together made you hold on to your flask of champagne in a tighter manner, nearly breaking the glass as your eyes began to shine with unshed tears.

sung jinwoo didn’t know this, but you had been in love with him ever since you first laid eyes on him. if you had ever admitted such feelings to anyone else, they would have immediately assumed that you developed such feelings when he had gotten stronger, as an s-rank-

but they would be wrong. in fact, you were proud to admit that you had loved him even when he was a mere e-rank hunter.

you were certain that he didn’t remember you, but back then, when he was known as the weakest in the world, you had saved him from a similar near death experience.

the gate was merely a c level gate, and it had gone awry when jinwoo and his then teammates came across a monster den. it was the sheer numbers that ended up overwhelming the team, and when it became too much for them to handle, they left jinwoo behind the moment his chest got pierced by one of the beast’s claws.

they didn’t even bother to heal him, and it wasn’t until you were called in as backup with your own team to continue raiding the gate that you found jinwoo at such a devastating state.

you ignore everything else surrounding you, seeing the deep wound against his chest as the beast made a tear against his signature blue hoodie. blood was pouring from his parted lips, yet still, you simply brush back his hair before placing palm of your hand against his bleeding chest.

your stomach churned at the sensation of warm blood felt against the palm of your hand, but you powered through and allowed your healing aura to surround him in a pale, golden glow. within minutes, his dire wound begins to close up, the blood ceasing its flow as his breathing took on a more relaxed and less labored state.

you would never forget the tears of happiness that poured from his stormy eyes, his sweet voice thanking you over and over again, filling you with a warmth you had not felt in a while.

and after leading him back to the safety of the real world, you made a promise to yourself to always watch over him and remain by his side, healing him from the worst the gates had planned for him.

what you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly grow stronger, seeming to take on high level dungeons as he seemed to level up little by little each and every day. while working at the association, you made note of how he lost his lanky form, filling out almost too well as he swapped his inexpensive clothes with pristine dress shirts and suits that he managed to fill perfectly.

he was taller, and his face lost its usual roundness-

but what always remained the same was the gentle hue of his grey eyes-

and those same eyes were looking down at hae-in with such a fondness that made your breath hitch almost painfully in response.

yet you refused to cry at such a public occasion, choosing instead to drain the rest of your champagne while slamming the empty glass against your table. the moment you could hear the beginnings of a sweet love song began to play was when you excused yourself from the party.

you attended the ball by yourself, being filled with a foolish hope that jinwoo would ask you to dance-

that he too, had come alone to such a party.

yet clearly, that wasn’t the case the moment he enters the ballroom with the gorgeous s-rank hunter practically clinging to him. the memory of them dancing together being enough to make your throat close.

within minutes, you escape the stifling atmosphere of the party and head out into the grand balcony, greedily breathing in the cold air as you felt the skirt of your dress swaying in tune with the wind. you felt a strange comfort, basking in the vastness of the night sky while closing your eyes in response to the gentle winds, allowing it to caress you as you imagined it being akin to a lover’s touch.

“i was not expecting such a lovely flower to be out here by herself.”

a rich voice was heard, and you felt a strange sense of hope filling you-

only to be met with the man known as the hero of china-

liu zhigang.

“oh, h-hello, sir.” you were not expecting the handsome man to actually take the time to learn your language in order to properly communicate with you, and you were left feeling flustered all while brushing back your stray strands of hair.

liu seems amused by your reaction, coming closer to you while gently caressing at your cheek.

“you are disappointed to see me?”

your throat turns dry, but you immediately shake your head in response to his question.

“n-no sir! it’s just, i didn’t expect to see you and have you talking to me, that’s all.”

you hear him let out a rich chuckle, deep, golden eyes looking at you with a tender expression you had never seen before. “there’s no need to lie to me. come, let this poor man assuage you of your heartache.”

not even waiting for your response, liu zhigang takes you in his arms all while gently swaying to the music. you were mesmerized, captivated by his masculine beauty-

but you found that your heart couldn’t quite race for him, not like it did for jinwoo.

liu simply chuckles in response, gently taking a hold of your head as he allows you to rest it against his chest.

“you love him, the pompous s-rank hunter who beat thomas andre half to death?”

you could feel your face turn hotter in response, giving liu a nod.

“yes, you could tell, sir?”

you listen to the sounds of his laughter, still swaying you within his arms as you simply follow his movements, surprised to find that you were still having fun despite the heartache that you felt.

“any man could see it from a mile away.”

liu was still laughing, and you saw him stop moving while keeping you in his arms. he lets out what sounds like a curse in his mother tongue, eyes locked in on someone behind you.

“don’t lose hope just yet, my lovely flower. for that cocky asshole may be feeling some type of ways for you, too.”

you let out a gasp, finally turning around to see jinwoo himself adjusting his tie, eyes already glowing a startling purple hue as he takes quicks strides towards you and liu.

“if he breaks your heart, you know where to find me, my lovely flower.”

with that last whisper against your ear, the chinese hunter lets go of you just as jinwoo approaches you, already sizing up the man with his fists clenched close to his sides.

“mind if i intervene…?”

jinwoo asks liu out of courtesy, but you could tell from the intensity of his eyes and the forceful tone of his voice that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

liu steps away with a smirk, holding up his hands in mock defeat. “by all means, go on. if that’s the case, i shall keep your own date company.”

���go ahead, just leave her alone.” jinwoo practically snarls while keeping a protective arm wrapped around you. liu ends up letting out a rich chuckle, giving you one last wink before disappearing back into the party.

you were given little chance to react the moment jinwoo takes you in his arms, holding you even closer than liu ever dared to. his eyes were still glowing purple, but they appeared much softer now in comparison to how they were when liu was around.

you were still left feeling speechless, feeling your lips open up in a slight part when jinwoo takes a hold of your hands to wrap them around his neck. you were basking in his warmth for a few more minutes before gathering the courage to ask him.

“i thought y-you were with hae-in…?”

jinwoo lets out a scoff while looking away from you, blushing as he cleared his throat.

“no, i’m not. i only agreed to take her to the ball so she wouldn’t feel as nervous. we’re together as friends…. that’s it.”

you could feel the hope bubbling within your chest, with your eyes meeting with his gentle, grey gaze. he laughs softly, taking a hold of your hand when he places a kiss against the back of it.

“how could i ever forget about the girl that saved my life… the girl i have always loved since the moment i first laid eyes on you?”

your heart was pounding now, the sensation of hope now felt coursing through your very veins as tears filled your vision.

“y-you remembered me?”

a look of adoration appears across jinwoo’s features. “always.”

he sighs then, letting go of your hand as his expression began to turn angry, his lips now turned in a scowl. “i wanted to become stronger for you, to slowly turn into the man that you always deserved- only the best version of me.”

“but it seems as though my hesitance was enough to have that snake make a move on you.”

you let out a gentle giggle, feeling his arms tighten around your waist when he brings you even closer to his chest. but you didn’t mind, still clinging to him as you rest your head against his chest.

“you silly dork… i… have loved you even when you were at your weakest. you didn’t need to wait so long for me… i would have accepted you always, offering you the type of unconditional love that you deserve.”

you bask in the sounds of jinwoo’s relieved sigh, holding you even closer to him as he brushes his lips against your hair.

“yeah, you’re right. if i wasn’t such a coward, then i would have had you in my arms a long time ago.”

and as your happiness was felt coursing through your veins, you continue holding on to the man you have always loved, slow dancing in the dark with him alone.

a.n. - i am on a joji binge 😭😭😭😭 slow dancing in the dark is still such a masterpiece to this day!!!!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[clangenrising]

Month 19 - Leaffall

Content Warning: This piece includes content that may be triggering to some viewers. See this post for details.

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Sagetooth gasped sharply and lurched upright as a cold touch to her forehead pulled her up from a thick, inky blackness. She looked around at the bed of hastily gathered wildflowers and the cats clustered nearby and wondered aloud, “How long have I been out?” 

None of the cats even acknowledged her. Close by, Branchbark and Ospreymask loafed side by side, completely unaware she had spoken. Ospreymask leaned weakly on Branchbark, a patchwork of cobwebs plastered over her dark pelt and Branchbark’s eyes were raw and red. More cats sat nearby, all of them somber and quiet in the pre-dawn light. They looked miserable and something foreboding stirred inside Sagetooth at the sight. 

“About an hour, I think,” said a familiar voice. Sagetooth turned her head to see Poppyblaze standing nearby. At her feet lay Lakepaw, stiff and cold and decorated with morning glory and goldenrod flowers. 

“Oh,” Sagetooth said simply. 

“Yeah,” Poppyblaze grimaced. “I’m sorry old friend. I wasn’t expecting to come for you for a while.” 

Sagetooth’s gaze drifted down to the apprentice laying beside her own body, over which she now stood. “She died to protect me,” she said. “Poor kit.” 

“She gave quite the fight for her age,” hummed Poppyblaze. “Are you alright if I wake her now? We really should be going.” 

“Of course,” Sagetooth said, then inhaled sharply with memory. “Wait, I have to check on something!” She quickly hopped over the flowers woven around her feet and headed for the healers’ den at a brisk pace. 

“Don’t go far!” Poppyblaze hissed worriedly. “It’s not safe!” Sagetooth twitched an ear dismissively and continued into the den. There was nothing that would hurt her here and she had important things to do. 

As she stepped into the den, the blood that covered the floor made her pause. Even though every scent felt like it was miles away, she could pick up on the pungent odor of blood and urine -- and not just the expected amount of urine that came with the dead. Stepping further in, she found the herb stores in disaster, every herb tossed to the floor, shredded, and sprayed by the rogues. She curled her lip in disgust.

“Honorless brutes,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Turning away from that mess, she marched purposefully around the corner to Oddstripe’s empty nest and sighed in relief when she saw the small lump underneath the back corner. The horsetail and juniper she had hidden there was safe. She had no doubt Oddstripe would find it eventually. There wouldn’t be another death like Nightfrosts. 

Set at ease, she turned back and padded out into the clearing where Poppyblaze was standing with Lakepaw’s spirit in the middle of the circle of mourners. Poor Lakepaw was softly weeping into the guide’s starry fur. 

Sagetooth padded over and said, “There, there, Lakepaw. It’s going to be alright.” 

Lakepaw looked up at the sound of her voice and sniffled. “I’m so sorry, Sagetooth,” she whined. “I promise I tried my best.” 

“I know,” Sagetooth smiled. “You were a brave warrior.” Lakepaw sniffled again and rubbed a paw over her face, managing to return her smile, just a bit. 

“Alright, now, let’s be quick,” said Poppyblaze. “This place isn’t safe.”

“How so?” Sagetooth scowled. “I’ve never heard of anything dangerous in StarClan.” 

“We’re not in StarClan,” Poppyblaze explained, leading they over to the Stoneperch. “We’re in a place called the Parallel. It’s the place where the spirit and the physical meet, and right now, Razor’s ghost is prowling around it somewhere.” 

“What?” Sagetooth couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How is that possible?! Only Clan cats move on to the afterlife.” 

“Oh, Sage,” Poppyblaze shook her head. “There’s so much you don’t know about the universe.” Sagetooth bristled indignantly. If there was knowledge out there, why hadn’t StarClan shared it with her? Why hadn’t Poppyblaze told her about it before? 

With a flick of her tail, Poppyblaze sent a shower of stars into the sky, leading up in a series of platforms, and said, “This way! Let’s get climbing.” 

“Wowzers,” breathed Lakepaw and Poppyblaze chuckled. 

“I like you, kid,” she purred. “Now, come on.” She gave Lakepaw’s rump a nudge with her nose and the apprentice hopped up, easily leaping from platform to platform into the sky. Sagetooth hesitated, shifting her weight. 

“You can’t make a slope of some kind?” she asked. 

Poppyblaze laughed and said, “Just give me one jump, yeah?” 

Sagetooth sighed, grumbling under her breath, and bunched her legs beneath her. It had been a long time since she’d properly jumped and she was not looking forward to it. Still, if Razor was loose somewhere around here, she’d be much better suited to jumping than fighting him. She leapt and was amazed to find herself easily and painlessly landing on the first platform. Her eyes sparkled in wonder and she glanced down at Poppyblaze who laughed again.

“See? You don’t have a body anymore so no more joint pain! Pretty cool, huh?” 

“It’s very nice, yes,” Sagetooth purred to herself, stretching out each leg experimentally. 

“Great, now let's go, go, go,” urged Poppyblaze, hopping up beside her. Sagetooth nodded and started ascending. She was buzzing giddily at the freedom in her movements, in the way she could coordinate her limbs and move them without the aching resistance she had grown used to for the last few years. 

Over their heads, Lakepaw cried out, “Wowzers! Look at the world from up here!” 

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” grinned Poppyblaze. The higher they climbed, the more Sagetooth had to agree. The world was a stunning mess of mauves rustling in the breeze. A hint of orange had just started to peek over the eastern horizon and the contrast took Sagetooth’s breath away. 

“Hey, what’s that?” Lakepaw asked. 

“Hm?” Poppyblaze perked her ears. She and Sagetooth followed the apprentice’s gaze to the south. Standing in the grass, not too far from camp, several smudges of glowing red broke up the peaceful purple landscape. 

“Oh, that’s not good,” Poppyblaze swallowed. 

“Razor?” Sagetooth asked. 

“Yeah, I think so. I’m going to check it out. I need you to stay here, okay?” She looked at both of them sternly and said, “Don’t go up without me and don’t try to go down under any circumstances, understood?” 

“Yeah,” Lakepaw’s fur was standing on end as she nodded.

“Absolutely not,” Sagetooth huffed. “I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh, Sage, my stubborn, stubborn friend,” Poppyblaze’s expression was some mixture of distress and admiration. “Now really isn’t the time for this.” 

“If it isn’t safe for me to go along then you shouldn’t be going, you reckless fool,” Sagetooth stood her ground.

Poppyblaze sighed. “I guess that’s a fair point. Alright, fine. Stay here, Lakepaw, we’ll be back soon.” 

“Okay,” Lakepaw’s voice was shaky. “Please be safe.” 

“We will be,” Sagetooth assured her, then looked at Poppyblaze and gestured for her to lead the way. Poppyblaze took a careful step forward into the open air and when her paws moved away, there were starry platforms in their wake. Sagetooth fell into step behind her and they set out over the fields towards the red shapes. 

As they drew closer, Sagetooth started to make out the silhouettes of cats. A tall grey tabby stood in the center of the group, flanked by a cream tabby she-cat, a black-furred tom with white paws, and a pair of blue and white cats with notches in their ears. All five of them had the same shimmery pelts as StarClan but the stars were red tinged or dull and grey. 

“What are so many cats doing in the Parallel?” Poppyblaze whispered to herself, halting to observe them from a short distance behind and a tree’s length above. 

“That big one, is Razor, yes?” Sagetooth asked in the same hushed tone. She’d never seen the rogue’s body, too busy with healing the wounded, but she had heard the stories. She could see the gaping wound in his throat dripping ichor as he hunched over in the grass. He looked like stories of Dark Forest ghosts but that didn’t make any sense to her.

“Mhm,” nodded Poppyblaze. “He destroyed Darkmoon and EarthClan’s guide and tried to destroy me.” 

“What’s he doing?” asked Sagetooth. Both she and Poppyblaze squinted at Razor who was doing something with his paws over a space of fresh churned earth. He hooked his claws into something and pulled up dragging a new glowing red shape up from the dirt. In horror, Sagetooth watched the face of a cat burst from the ground, choking and gasping for air as Razor hoisted his spirit up by the scruff. The cat scrambled to his feet and stared around, eyes wide, chest heaving, and Razor smiled with a deep rumbling purr that Sagetooth could just barely hear. 

“Welcome to the land of the not quite living, Harry, ” he said, slapping the new cat on the back. 

“Oh, no,” Poppyblaze swallowed. “This is bad. This is very bad. Where’s Bakari?” 

“Who?” Sagetooth couldn’t help but ask. 

“What’s going on? Where are we?” the newly dead cat panted. “Who are they?” Sagetooth’s stomach dropped as he looked directly up at her and Poppyblaze. Razor cocked his head and turned in their direction. When he saw them, a terrible smile spread across his face, made all the more gruesome by the ichor seeping between his teeth. 

“Oh, look,” he purred and the whole group of cats turned to look at them, “It’s my little friend. I never did catch your name, sweetheart.” 

Poppyblaze bristled and twitched her tail against Sagetooth’s flank. “We’re leaving,” she whispered. “Now.” Sagetooth didn’t need any further prompting, quickly, she twisted on the starry platforms and started bounding back to where they had left Lakepaw waiting. Poppyblaze was close on her tail.

“Come now, don’t be like that!” Razor jeered after them and a couple of the other cats laughed. “Come on down so we can get friendly!” 

“This is very bad,” Poppyblaze hissed under her breath. “Worse than I thought.” 

“How so?” Sagetooth tilted her ears backward in curiosity. 

“How to explain…” Poppyblaze hummed thoughtfully. “So, when a creature dies, their soul is trapped inside their body. If left there, it rots and disappears, just like the rest of them, but if someone disconnects them from their body, they can live for effectively eternity, given the right conditions.” 

“Right, as long as they’re remembered, they resist fading away,” Sagetooth nodded. 

“Not exactly,” Poppyblaze said, “but that’s not really important right now.” Sagetooth twitched an ear in irritation, wishing Poppyblaze would stop saying confusing and ambiguous new things, but held her tongue so the guide could continue. “Separating a soul from a body is a tricky process, one that guides have been teaching each other for countless millennia. It looks like, somehow, Razor has figured out how to do it, or how to brute force it at least.” 

“Alright,” Sagetooth frowned, trying to put the pieces together. “So now, instead of wasting away, the kittypets’ spirits will be stuck on the Parallel with Razor where they can harass spirits waiting to go to StarClan?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Poppyblaze said to Sagetooth’s frustration. “Usually, Bakari comes and collects the non-Clan cats in this area, but for some reason, he hasn’t been doing that.” 

“Who is this Bakari you keep talking about?” Sagetooth grumbled. 

“The guide for feline souls,” Poppyblaze’s tail began to twitch, “exempting Clan cats who have their own guides.” 

“But that’s not-” Sagetooth grit her teeth. “That doesn’t make any sense! Only Clan cats persist after death. That’s how it’s always been!” 

“Sorry, Sage, but that’s just not true,” Poppyblaze shook her head. “Everything has its own guide -- cats, dogs, mice, birds, beetles, twolegs. Everything! There’s even a guide who collects the plants! He’s a big ol’ thing with a prehensile nose and the shaggiest fur you’ve ever seen. Name’s Frost. Lovely guy, excellent conversationalist.” 

“Poppyblaze!” Sagetooth snapped, lashing her tail. They were almost back to Lakepaw now and she turned around to glare at the old spirit. “Enough about the plants! I still don’t understand what’s going on!” 

“It’s a lot to understand,” said Poppyblaze sympathetically, “but I’ll try to summarize.” She shifted her posture, collecting her thoughts, and said, “Alright, so Bakari usually collects the spirits of cats from outside the Clan. Every so often, a creature with a particularly strong will can separate themself on their own -- that’s how the first guides were created and it's what I assumed Razor had done. When I ran into him the first time, he said that he’d already destroyed two other cats and since EarthClan’s guide had never returned from gathering Darkmoon, I assumed they were the cats he’d destroyed.

“But this is so much worse. I think he destroyed Bakari when he tried to take Razor to the next life. He’s obsessed with getting back to his body like Goldenstar did and said he was going to keep killing cats until someone showed him how.”

“Oh,” Sagetooth swallowed. “That’s definitely not good.” 

“And that’s not all,” continued Poppyblaze. “If he’s only killed two cats and they were Bakari and Chestnutsprout, then Darkmoon is missing. He could be here on the parallel or he might be lost in the Clouds! Who knows!” 

“Then we need to get back to StarClan,” Sagetooth said. “They have to know.” 

“Agreed,” Poppyblaze chewed her lip. “Come on, let’s grab Lakepaw and get moving.” They padded quickly over the remaining distance to where Lakepaw was waiting dutifully for them. 

“Is everything okay?” she called as they approached. 

“Everything’s fine, dear,” said Sagetooth.

“Not really,” smiled Poppyblaze, “but we’re all safe for now. Let’s keep climbing, okay?” 

“Okay,” nodded Lakepaw and they all started up the platforms again. 

Sagetooth glared at Poppyblaze. “You didn’t have to worry the kit like that.” 

“She deserves to hear the truth,” Poppyblaze shrugged. “Or would you prefer I hide things from her like StarClan hid things from you?” Sagetooth’s anger fizzled immediately. 

“I suppose I’d rather not lie to her,” she sighed. After a moment she asked, “Why did StarClan keep the nature of things a secret? What harm is there in knowing other creatures have spirits that linger just like we do?” She trusted that there was some explanation, that StarClan had made the choice with good reason, but she couldn’t think of what it could be.

“A lot of them don’t know,” Poppyblaze admitted, “not any more at least. And the cats who do, well, you’d have to ask them, but I suspect they thought it would keep the Clans in line.” 

“In line?” Sagetooth sputtered. “What are you talking about?” 

“Well,” Poppyblaze hummed, “if you think that leaving the Clan means you lose your chance at the afterlife, you’re a lot more inclined to stay in the Clan, aren’t you?”

Sagetooth scowled. “I suppose.” This was very troubling. Wasn’t that for the best though? Leaving the Clan was tantamount to death. The poor young cats who were seduced by the lives of kittypets or rogue lovers were abandoning their homes, their traditions, their families. But still, even if their spirits existed after death, they didn’t get to hunt in StarClan’s forests so why lie? Wasn’t the outcome the same either way? The whole situation didn’t sit right with her at all. 

“Alright,” Poppyblaze said, as they neared the lower reaches of cloud cover. “We’re about to head into the Clouds, alright? It’s pretty maze-like in there and easy to get lost so make sure you stay where you can see me and let me know if you need to stop or slow down, got it?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Lakepaw said, eyes wide with awe. 

“Fine,” Sagetooth huffed, still deep in thought. This wasn’t what she had imagined her voyage to StarClan would be like. Still, she resolved to make the most of it and so set her shoulders and raised her head proudly. There would be time to get to the bottom of things and she was going to, that much was certain.

[salt-clangen]

Moon 12 pt 2

Leaf Bare

I’m sorry

The camp was quiet.

Snowspeckle watched her mate lead the kits toward the bramble tunnel. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze lingering on Wolfstar’s den. Hesitation clouded her eyes, but she turned and padded behind them. Shadowdive was gone on patrol, Fennelheart rested in the healer’s den, and Mallowstripe set to tend to him. The camp was as empty as she could get it.

Inside, Wolfstar sat at the back of her den, eyes sharp as she watched Lynxdawn pace. Dawn had barely broken when the cleric stormed in, her new name fresh on her tongue and her voice dripping with accusations. The visions, the anger—it was like a storm battering the den walls.

Now, Wolfstar waited, her tail curling tight around her paws, for Lynxdawn to calm. For the panic to leave her voice. But when Lynxdawn crumpled into the sand, sobbing, Wolfstar’s heart twisted.

“Lynx,” Wolfstar murmured, her voice low and steady. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand you lied to me,” Lynxdawn spat, lifting her head. Her blue eyes, glassy with tears, burned like flames.

Wolfstar’s claws sank into the sand. “I told you DuskClan wasn’t safe, and StarClan said to leave. That wasn’t a lie.”

Lynxdawn’s ears pinned back. She surged forward, stopping just shy of Wolfstar’s face, her breath hot and ragged. “And you think that makes it okay?” she hissed. “You think you can blame StarClan for hiding this from me?”

Wolfstar flinched but kept her ground. “You were so young—”

“Did you ever plan to tell me?” Lynxdawn shoved her muzzle forward until their noses almost touched. “You let me face my would-be murderer without a word!”

“I-I spoke with her,” Wolfstar stammered, her voice cracking. “She said she’d never go through with it. Something came over her—”

“And you believed her.” Lynxdawn’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Would you have believed her if she wasn’t your mother?”

Wolfstar recoiled, her breath catching in her throat.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Lynxdawn snarled, pressing forward again. “You lied to me. You lied to the entire Clan because you didn’t want to admit the truth: your mother was nearly a kit-killer.”

“That’s not why—”

“Then tell me why!” Lynxdawn’s voice cracked as she shoved her chest against Wolfstar’s, driving her into the rock wall. Dust and sand rained down as Lynxdawn pinned her, her paws heavy on Wolfstar’s chest.

Wolfstar gasped for breath, her vision blurring with tears. Guilt, more than weight, kept her still. “I didn’t want you to know,” she choked out, her voice thin. “I didn’t want you to feel like I—like I’d ever—”

“Like you’d ever what?” Lynxdawn’s voice was low and dangerous. “Be like her?”

Wolfstar clenched her teeth and shoved Lynxdawn off with a powerful kick of her hind legs. The cleric hit the sand with a grunt, but she stayed low, her tail lashing behind her. Wolfstar dropped to her belly, chin brushing the ground as she spoke.

“I didn’t understand why she said it,” Wolfstar murmured, her voice breaking. “My own mother, plotting to drown a newborn kit… You were so tiny. I remember congratulating your mother when you were born. You were the littlest thing I’d ever seen.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her claws digging deep into the sand. “And then… then I heard her.”

Lynxdawn stayed silent, her eyes boring into Wolfstar.

“She was like a dog,” Wolfstar continued, her voice shaking. “Foaming, snarling. I’ve never seen her like that before—or since. Her voice was low, but I heard it as clear as the sky. I didn’t believe it at first. I couldn’t. But StarClan wouldn’t let me rest. I heard them, hundreds of voices, until I thought I’d go mad.” Her breath hitched. “They told me to take you and run. So I did.”

Lynxdawn’s tail flicked once, twice, before curling around her paws. “And my mother?” she whispered. “What did she do?”

Wolfstar’s voice broke on a sob. “She named you.”

Lynxdawn blinked, her face unreadable. “Why?” she asked coldly. “Why did you lie?”

Wolfstar’s scarred neck throbbed as memories surged forward, secrets pressing against her throat. “I didn’t want you to see her in me,” she admitted, her voice hoarse. “But I do. I see her. I feel her. She’s in my blood, Lynxdawn, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake her.”

Lynxdawn rose slowly, towering over Wolfstar now. Her voice was a low growl, each word deliberate. “I will leave, Wolfstar. I will leave and never come back if you don’t tell me the truth.”

Wolfstar’s breath caught as Lynxdawn’s tail lashed wildly behind her, each flick sharp and deliberate. The silence between them was suffocating.

“There’s something in your throat, Wolfstar,” Lynxdawn said, her voice low and cold. “Something that wants to get out, but you won’t let it.”

Wolfstar’s mouth opened, but no sound came.

“You’re scared,” Lynxdawn pressed, her voice cracking. “Scared of what’s in your blood.”

Wolfstar closed her eyes, her body trembling. “Of becoming her,” she finally whispered, the words brittle and raw. “I have these dreams… I get so angry, and I want to scream. I snap at the kits, Lynx. I feel myself slipping, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Lynxdawn stared for a moment longer before shaking her head. Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the den, her paws kicking up clods of sand.

Wolfstar leapt to her feet, watching her friend vanish into the sunlight. Her fur clung to her damp face, sand sticking to the trails of tears. She didn’t move, even as sounds of the clan outside returned.

Her throat burned, but no sound came.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 53

Chapter 52 || Index || Chapter 54

Fireheart trotted into camp, his head held high despite the two squirrels he was carrying by their fluffy tails. The late day hunting patrol had been a wild success, with Mousefur, Mistspring and Cherrypaw all carrying nearly a dozen fresh kills between them as they followed him through the bramble tunnel. He could see the eyes of warriors glowing hungrily around him in the newleaf dusk, likely salivating at the sight of the feast that awaited the Clan.

The ginger deputy led his patrol across camp to the freshkill pile, largely empty except for a couple of mice that hadn’t yet been eaten from the morning hunting patrol. He paused beside it, dropping his squirrels at his paws. “I’ll take these to the queens. Cherrypaw, why don’t you bring that woodpecker and blue jay you caught to the elders? Then get something for you and your siblings to enjoy - you certainly deserve it with catches like those.”

The apprentice’s green eyes glowed at his praise, and she nodded eagerly before bounding over to the elders’ den, her prizes in tow. He watched her briefly, recalling his own apprentice days when he had brought the Shadowclan elders a fresh woodpecker. He could hear the elders murmuring in shock over her kills as he leaned down to pick up his squirrels, trotting over to the nursery where his sisters and niblings were surely tucked away inside.

He had only barely entered before nearly running into another cat. “Oh!” He gasped in surprise, the squirrel tails falling from his mouth as he backpedaled. “I’m sorry, I-” His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the nursery to see Lionheart’s golden pelt, nearly brown in the darkness, and two wide green eyes that crinkled as they caught his gaze.

“No need to apologize, Fireheart.” The large warrior purred, shifting to make room for his deputy to pass by. “I should be the one apologizing, taking up all the space in here like that! I forgot you’d be coming by soon with something for your sister and her kits.” He eyed the squirrels where they had fallen approvingly. “And quite a plump something, at that. It bodes well for us if the squirrels are already recovered from their leafbare hibernations.”

“The prey is certainly thriving.” Fireheart agreed readily, picking the squirrels back up and carrying them across the nursery to where his sister’s nest was. To his surprise, it was empty except for Princess. He carefully laid out one of the squirrels next to her, even as his head tilted in confusion. “Where are the kits?” He questioned softly.

“Watching Yellowfang do her work.” She replied, flicking her tail over to Frostfur’s nest. Sure enough, his niblings were crowded around the edge of the white queen’s nest, their eyes huge as they watched the dark gray healer carefully nose over each of the three little lumps of fur at her belly. Whitestorm and Lionheart sat beside her, their tails wound together tightly as Whitestorm pawed anxiously at the nursery’s soft ground. “I told them they could watch as long as they didn’t make a sound or move a whisker. Yellowfang and Dewshine are such good healers; I want them to have an appreciation for the work they do keeping kits healthy.”

“It surely wouldn’t hurt.” Fireheart agreed, watching his niblings as they sat whisker-still. He’d never seen them so enraptured before, sitting so silently that even a whisker drop would be louder than them. “Who knows, perhaps one of them will be Dewshine’s apprentice in a couple of seasons!”

“Bah, she’s too young for an apprentice.” His ear flicked as Yellowfang grumbled, briefly shooting her copper gaze in his direction before returning back to her examination. “Alright, you five - why don’t you go eat that tasty squirrel instead of trying to be little stones, hmm? If you sit like that for too much longer, you’ll end up petrifying and turning into rocks.”

They stared at her with wide eyes. “Does that really happen?” Sootkit asked, his golden eyes glittering with worry in the thin nursery light.

She huffed in his direction. “Are you questioning me?” She growled, looking up at him with a low glare.

The dark gray kit jolted in shock. “Of course not!” He squeaked, backpedalling over Rainkit to dart towards Princess before Yellowfang could threaten them further, his siblings quickly following him. Fireheart looked on, his whiskers twitching in amusement. No doubt they’d realize Yellowfang was joking sooner or later - but it didn’t hurt them to have a healthy fear of her for now, especially when they seemed to fear little else.

“Thank you for the food, Unka Fireheart.” His ears perked as Rainkit bowed his head to the young deputy before gingerly tearing into the squirrel’s pelt. His words were quickly followed by a chorus of ‘Thank you!’s from the other kits before they hungrily dug in.

“Well, you’re most certainly welcome.” He purred in response, pleasantly surprised by the sudden show of gratitude from his nephew. “Teaching them manners now, are we?” He asked his sister, glancing up at her with a lopsided smile.

“Speckleflight did.” Princess explained, watching the kits feast with her own small smile. “She’s got them all wrapped up around her paw after that day in the meadow, even Cloudkit. She told them this morning that Bluestar only lets polite apprentices with good manners become warriors, and they spent all day begging her and the other elders for manners lessons.”

“Ith that true, Unka?” Cloudkit asked, sitting up and staring at Fireheart with wide blue eyes.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s rude.” Fireheart admonished, his nephew’s eyes immediately widening before he mumbled an apology. “Yes, it’s true. Rude apprentices don’t get to become warriors until their mentor teaches them some manners, and warriors that lose their manners have to sleep in the apprentices’ den until they remember them again. That’s what happened to Graystripe, you know.”

“That’s why Graystripe sleeps in the apprentices’ den!?” Lynxkit squeaked in shock, her pale green eyes nearly the size of an owl’s. “Smallear said it was because he was so bad at hunting he only brought back pinecones and dead leaves, but One-eye smacked him and called him a name Rosetail said we weren’t allowed to repeat.”

Fireheart did his best to refrain from snickering at that. He could only imagine what One-eye had called her brother, given the variety he had heard from her while he was on elder duty. “Well, you should listen to Rosetail on that part, but Smallear was probably just making fun of Graystripe. He’s not the best hunter in the Clan, not like Dappleshine or Mousefur - or yours truly.” He winked at the kits, who were all staring at him with adoring eyes. “But enough of that. Kits need to eat lots of food to become big and strong warriors, you know. Besides, I have to take this squirrel to Frostfur.”

He waved goodbye to the kits and Princess with his tail as he picked up the remaining squirrel and dragged it over to Frostfur’s nest, where Yellowfang had just finished inspecting a mottled grey, cream and white kit that looked a bit like Sorrelkit. “Her lungs are clear, too. All three look healthy, no reason to worry.” She reported gruffly to Lionheart and Whitestorm. “Still, don’t hesitate to ask me or Dewshine if you’re worried about them, especially when they’re still this small. I’d rather fuss over them for no reason than miss an early case of kittencough.”

The two toms glanced at each other and nodded agreement. “Thank you, Yellowfang.” Lionheart mewed, blinking his green eyes gratefully at her. “While you’re here, we’d hoped that you might stay for naming the kits.”

The old healer perked her ears in surprise. “Well, I suppose I could stay a little bit longer.” She responded gruffly, stepping off to the side to allow Lionheart and Whitestorm to get closer to their kits. “I’m sure you’ve chosen wonderful names for them.”

Whitestorm and Lionheart shared another glance. “Actually…” Whitestorm rumbled now, his tail wrapping tighter around Lionheart’s, “We were wondering if you would like to name them.”

“Wha- me?” Yellowfang’s half-lidded copper eyes widened in shock. “But- I-” She babbled, her normally thorn-sharp and quick-witted tongue completely caught in the surprise that Whitestorm had sprung on her.

The mighty white warrior ducked his head for a few heartbeats. “I… I had a grand speech planned.” Whitestorm admitted readily. “But I… the most important part is that you, Yellowfang, take such good care of the kits - dozens of kits, throughout your lifetime - even knowing you’ll never be able to have any of your own. And I… you mean so much to me, and- and the Clan, that it feels unfair you’ll never be able to have the honor of naming your own kits.” He raised his head to blink slowly at her with his gentle golden eyes. “And so we would like you to have the honor of naming ours.”

Fireheart watched Yellowfang’s jaw work, trying to figure out the words to respond to her grandson - a secret that only half of those in the nursery knew. “I’ve long made my peace with my position in the Clan.” She responded at last. “They’re your kits. I can’t take the joy of naming them from you - the both of you.”

“We’ll have more.” Lionheart purred in response. “But you, Yellowfang - we won’t have you forever. Your knowledge and your wisdom saved our daughters when they were too small to live - we want to honor that, by letting you name them.”

The old healer shook her head once more. “I just- I can’t, I-”

“Oh, for all the stars above!” The four of them jumped as Frostfur snarled, her white tail lashing once against the moss of her nest. “Whitestorm and Lionheart have been talking about this since even before the kits were born - you’re not going to change their minds now. Quit dancing around each other already and just get on with it.”

An awkward silence stretched out through the nursery as all the cats sitting there stared at each other. Just as Fireheart was about to politely excuse himself, Yellowfang shuffled a bit closer to the nest at the three kits suckling at Frostfur’s belly. Her paw hovered over the mottled calico mollyborn she had just been inspecting. “... Dovekit.” The healer declared, with the same gravity she might normally reserve for declaring whether a cat would live or die. “May she always be full of life and spirits.”

Yellowfang’s words tickled at the back of Fireheart’s mind. For a heartbeat, he was back in the foxhole prison with her and Brokentail, the old healer staring down at her son just as she was looking at her great-granddaughter now. I named the first one Hopekit, after the hope I had that the rest would live. 

Whitestorm beamed with pride behind her. “Dovekit - what a beautiful name for a beautiful little molly.” He announced to the nursery as a whole, his chest puffing up even more from joy as he looked fondly to his mate beside him.

Lionheart nodded in approval himself. “It fits her perfectly. I couldn’t have chosen a better name myself.” He rumbled with satisfaction, his tail twining even tighter with Whitestorm’s as his paws began to knead at the ground happily.

Fireheart could see a soft smile light upon Yellowfang’s lips, and with a deep breath she moved to the next kit - a light ginger tabby. “Finchkit.” She decided after a few heartbeats. “May her heart shine as brightly as her pelt and the stars on the Startrail.”

I named the second Wishkit, after the wish I had that they would forgive me in Starclan for breaking the code. Fireheart recalled Yellowfang saying, in the dim light of the foxhole prison. He watched her now, surrounded by her family - her grandson, his mate, and her great-grandkits. He didn’t know if Starclan had taken her daughters to punish her, or made Brokentail her son in some sort of curse. In this moment, Brokentail was dead, having never found any true measure of the power he had so desperately sought. Instead it was Yellowfang, purring and surrounded by the family she had desired for so long - and because of that Fireheart knew, no matter what Starclan had originally felt, they had forgiven her now.

Then her paw hovered over the last kit - a black and white tomborn. Her purring abruptly stopped as the smile faded from her face. The third… He knew immediately that she was picturing her son, who had once only been the size of the kit before her. Brokentail hadn’t always been the tyrant of Shadowclan that terrorized every cat in the forest - he had once been small, and soft, and sweet, suckling at the side of a queen without any thoughts on the world around him. Once, so very long ago…

Yellowfang stared at the kit under her paw, her eyes wide and fearful. He could only imagine the terror in her heart - the fear that this kit would someday turn out like his grandfather. That Starclan would step in and take this momentary bit of happiness from her, punish her once more for so foolishly believing she could have a chance at peace.

Fireheart glanced warily at Whitestorm, silently pleading with the tom to intervene. As soon as their gazes met, the great warrior stepped forward to press into his grandmother’s side. “What about Swiftkit?” He mewed softly next to her. “He looks just like a young swift bird, after all. Then he’ll match his sisters’ names as well.”

“Swiftkit.” Yellowfang repeated, her shoulders sagging in relief as Whitestorm spoke next to her. “Yes, Swiftkit is a lovely name for him. May he always strike as fast as lightning and as strong as thunder.”

Lionheart stepped up next to his mate and pressed into him, his purr loud enough to make the whole den vibrate. “Dovekit, Finchkit, and Swiftkit. Our beautiful children, whose only limit will be the sky above them.” The golden warrior announced, his whole pelt fluffing up slightly in excitement.

“I can’t wait to see them soar to great heights in Thunderclan, just as their parents have.” Fireheart spoke up now, every cat turning to look at him as he got to his paws. “I should be going, though. Dewshine wanted to make sure that my badger bite was healing well after I got back from patrol.” He shot a dirty glare towards where Cloudkit was sitting, and he could see his little white nephew quickly sink beneath the pelts of his siblings in shame.

“Yes, it would hardly do for our deputy to be laid up with infection in the middle of newleaf, would it?” Yellowfang waved him away with a dismissive paw, even as her voice cracked with emotion as she gazed down at her great-grandkits. “Go on now. I’m sure Princess can send one of her kits to fetch you if we need something.”

Fireheart nodded at the obvious dismissal. “Congratulations once more on your kits.” He meowed to Lionheart and Whitestorm as he passed, the two giant warriors only able to beam with joy in his direction before looking back to their kits, softly nestling against each other.

He paused for a brief heartbeat in the nursery entrance to look back. On one side was his family - Princess and her kits, a bundle of trouble that he could not picture himself without any longer. Even though it had brought strife into the Clan, he was glad that he hadn’t turned her away now - Thunderclan would be far bleaker without her, he was sure. On the other side was another family, long torn apart but recently reunited thanks to his own efforts. They had had their own troubles, it was true - but he was glad that he had told Yellowfang the truth, and persuaded her to tell Whitestorm. No longer would they have to be quite so alone in the world; and that, he thought to himself as he turned away and padded towards the healer’s den, was the greatest gift that any cat could ever have.

[plushieclan]

Prologue part 1

TW: Blood, kit death

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Leafpelt’s paws thudded against the ground, frantically pulling herself forward. She’d never felt this much fear before. Her teeth clenched onto the scruff of her one remaining kit. Ravenkit was quiet. Ahead of her, her mate forged through the dark, blood streaming down his muzzle.

Just earlier that day, Leafpelt was a normal queen to two beautiful kits, fur as deep as midnight and curiosity as bright as the sun. Loud, inquisitive Ravenkit and sweet, quiet Nightkit. But Nightkit was lost when Marshclan attacked. She had wandered off where Leafpelt couldn’t get her in time to escape. She hated herself for that lapse in judgement; it played over and over in her head.

Why had Marshclan attacked? Who was this new leader— Redstar— and why had they gone for the kits? It was like their goal was to wipe out Bayclan for good. But that broke the warrior code!

“Where are we going?” Leafpelt grit through Ravenkit’s scruff.

Darkheart didn’t slow down. “Peak cliffs. It’s the only safe place right now. Treeclan and Grangeclan won’t keep us.”

Leafpelt’s breath stopped for a moment, “But that’s— the Starclan graveyards!”

“Does it matter? It’s unclaimed territory. There’s got to be somewhere we can shelter.”

Leafpelt couldn’t argue. He was right— the area around the graveyard was empty territory. It was shared by every clan— as the only way to enter Starclan was to be buried high up, as close to the stars as possible.

—

When they arrived at the large sandstone mountain, it was around midnight. Ravenkit was breathing shallowly. Leafpelt knew she would need medical attention soon, if she were to survive this.

Darkheart stopped.

“Leafpelt. Look.”

There was a hole in the sandstone that a small creek flowed from. It looked solid.

“A cave…” she dipped her head inside. It was a spacious cavern, where a small creek wound within it. A large crystal protruded from the center. Above that, a hole in the sandstone showed a perfect outline of the moon.

“It’s an omen.” Darkheart breathed. “This is where we will rebuild our clan.”

Leafpelt gently placed her injured kit down and approached the crystal. She began to dig into the hard clay beneath it.

“What are you doing?”

Leafpelt continued digging. “The leader needs a den, right? It’ll keep Ravenkit warmer while she— while she sleeps.”

“Ravenkit… will she make it?” Darkheart’s gaze was full of sorrow.

Leafpelt stopped, looking at her nearly-still kit. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Honey, we could still find the Wanderers. They have healers with them.” He pressed against her flank.

She turned her head to look at him. “They’re not here yet. They won’t be circling around to the clans until sunhigh.”

“Then, we must hope that Ravenkit can hold on until then.”

Leafpelt did not share her mate’s enthusiasm.

-

Ravenkit did not survive past that night. Leafpelt spent the rest of it pressed into her flank, pretending her kit was still with her. Darkheart looked off into the darkness, guarding the front of the den. Leafpelt knew that all he could think about was how they lost both of their kits in one night.

Darkheart finally spoke, “We must head for the Moon Oak.”

“So soon?”

“A clan… needs a leader.” he choked.

They left the small cavern, their new clan camp. Before they set off on their long march to the Moon Oak, Leafpelt climbed up the sandstone cliffs to the graveyard. There, she left her daughter to rest, saying a silent prayer that she found her way to Starclan.

The rest of the crawl through their new territory was silent. Darkheart did not say a word, his wound beginning to scab up. Without treatment, it would likely scar.

As they walked through Treeclan’s territory, they stayed alert. Leafpelt couldn’t be comfortable— if Treeclan found them, they’d be thrown straight out. Luckily, they hadn’t been noticed. Perhaps Starclan had been looking favorably on them that night.

After crossing the Thunderpath, they found themselves at the Moon Oak.

It was an old tree, taking up a section of the Twoleg place to itself. The kittypets often talked about “tree law”— the Twolegs were compelled to keep it safe, due to some unspoken code. The tree was hollow within— that was where all past clan leaders and clerics met. Leafpelt herself had never been inside. When she had joined Bayclan, she was already an adult. Much too old for apprenticeship.

“Come with me.” Darkheart said.

“But… I can’t! That’s not how.. the ceremonies go!”

“I don’t care. I can’t do this alone.” he pleaded.

She looked away, then turned back to him, “Alright. Let’s go.”

They walked inside the hollow of the oak. There, sat another cat who was seemed to be about to lay down.

“R-Rainfeather?!” Leafpelt cried.

“Ack, stop yelling.” Rainfeather groaned, “I’m trying to connect to Starclan.”

“We’re just so glad you survived! What happened to your sister?” Leafpelt said.

Rainfeather sighed. “She… well, I’m going to be taking over her position as cleric. Lucky me.”

Darkheart paused. “I’m sorry, Rainfeather.”

“It’s fine. I’d rather stay a warrior, but it’s more important that we rebuild our clan.” Rainfeather paused. “You’re going to become leader, then?”

Leafpelt nodded. “He was the best choice. I’m… not ready to think about being leader, truly. I don’t think I’d ever be ready for that.”

Rainfeather sighed. “I always thought Darkheart would be a good deputy anyways. It all worked out, I guess.”

The three laid down within the oak, eyes closing. When Leafpelt opened her eyes, she was surrounded by stars. Perhaps she expected her old clanmates to be around her, the ones who were killed by Marshclan. But all that sat in front of her was her kit, bold little Ravenkit. Her pelt was filled with stars, and her eyes filled with energy that was missing in her last moments.

Leafpelt cried. “Oh, my darling!” She nuzzled her daughter.

Ravenkit smiled. “Hi mommy, I know I was gone for a bit!”

Leafpelt looked at little Ravenkit. “But… where is everyone else?”

Ravenkit looked down. “Um… well, they weren’t buried in high up. They um… they aren’t here.”

Leafpelt stopped. “What… do you mean?”

Ravenkit spoke as though she was in trouble. “They were all thrown into the Great Lake and dragged into the depths with all the bad, bad cats.”

The Depths. The Place with No Stars. Where a body could never rest— could never rot back into the earth. It was once their solemn duty to protect the Great Lake and the power it held. But Marshclan… they had thrown who died into the depths of the Great Lake? What were they thinking? It was considered the greatest punishment a cat could receive.

She looked at little Ravenkit, who bowed her head as though she was being scolded.

She knew she needed to be strong for her. “Let’s… not talk about that.”

Ravenkit smiled. “Ok! I’m going to give you your new name then!”

“What? But I’m not becoming leader?”

Ravenkit shrugged. “You’re still my mommy though. And you came to the oak— Daddy and Rainfeather get to leave with new powers, so I think you should too.”

“Alright, dear. Just tell me what you have in mind.” Leafpelt said.

“As the Starclan guide of the newly created clan, I vest a special role upon my mother,” Ravenkit started, “You will guide our clan into the future, though never as leader. A guide not just for your kits, but for the whole clan. I give you with the name Starleaf. Starleaf, you will be the one who names the clan that takes Bayclan’s place.”

Leafpelt— no, Starleaf— looked down at her child with sorrow. “Thank you, Ravenkit.”

Ravenkit grinned. “Did I do good? I already did Daddy and Rainfeather’s ceremonies.”

Starleaf licked her forehead. “You did wonderful, my darling.”

“Oh! I also have a prophecy. Special for you!” Ravenkit mentioned.

“What is it?”

She closed her eyes, and spoke with a much different tone than before. “A river of blood has drowned the bay. A choking dawn has risen on the clans. Only night will join them, and banish the deep.”

At the mention of night, Starleaf leaned forward. “Ravenkit, where is your sister?! Is she here?!”

Ravenkit shook her head. “No. But you’ll be seeing her very soon. Don’t worry!” she nuzzled up to her mother.

Starleaf closed her eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“That’s ok. I’ll be with you every step of the day. But now you have to go back to Rainfeather and Daddy. They’re staring to get worried.”

Starleaf nodded. “Alright darling. I’ll see you soon.”

She felt everything around her fade. The last she heard of Ravenkit was a faint “Bye bye mommy!”

Her eyes opened to Darkheart— no, he was Darkstar now, right?— and Rainfeather looking down at her.

“Jeez Leafpelt. You had me worried.” Rainfeather sighed.

Darkstar kneeled down to her level, “Are you hurt at all?”

Starleaf shook her head. “I’m alright. I saw Ravenkit. She gave me a new name— Starleaf.”

Darkstar smiled. “It’s a beautiful name.”

“Starleaf and Darkstar. What a pair you make.” Rainfeather rumbled amusedly.

“She also gave me the task of naming our new clan.”

The two toms perked up.

“I think I know what to call our new clan.” Starleaf’s thoughts lingered on the cave, and strange crystal that glittered in the center. “From now on, we are Crystalclan.”

“Suppose we should… find new members then.” Rainfeather said.

Starleaf stood up. “I’ll contact the Wanderers. I know some of the members were thinking about joining a clan. Even if none of them do, we could use their help.”

“We’ve got a long road ahead of us.” Darkstar stated. “Let’s get started.”

When Starleaf exited the Moon Oak, her thoughts weren’t on rebuilding the clan. They were on Ravenkit’s mysterious prophecy, and the hope it gave her.

Oh Nightkit, she thought. Please come back home.

[lichennose]

World-building in Building Thunder #2 - Sculpting; Clay, Pots, and Grinders Chicoryjump of ThunderClan guides Sedgepaw through sculpting a rainwater pot. Meanwhile, Elmpaw and Wortpaw take advantage of the fact that their teacher is distracted.

Clay is a valuable resource to the lake Clans! It’s used to sculpt bowls and pots, the latter of which are used to store rainwater and honey.

Gathering and Processing Clay - Natural clay is gathered from riverbeds. Cats collect it by shoveling with the paws, sticks, etc, then moving it to a nice flat surface for processing. - Processing involves cleaning the clay (picking out sticks and pebbles) then mixing in sand, which helps it hold its shape. While the sand isn’t totally necessary, it’s better to mix it in now rather than deal with misshapen pottery. Finally, the clay is sculpted into the desired shape and left to dry in a sunny location.

Bowls and Grinders - Mortar & pestle for cats! Used by medicine cats (to make poultices) and RiverClan warriors (to prepare mashed salmon). - Bowl is crafted out of clay. The grinder is just a small rock that can be held in the mouth (often surrounded by moss for comfort). - Bowls can be made in a variety of sizes! Usually they’re small, but RiverClan makes bigger ones in late greenleaf to mash salmon in. - Bowls are often crafted in batches and may be traded between Clans that have a good relationship.

Pots - Pots have two uses in Clan culture: storing rainwater and storing honey. Rainwater is collected for cats who can’t leave camp, while honey is an invaluable antibacterial. - Crafted out of clay and topped with a cover. The cover is woven and weighed down with a rock to keep it in place. - Rainwater pots are larger than honey pots and stored around the edges of camp. When water needs to be collected, they’re rolled out into the clearing and left there during rainfall; to prevent disease, they need to be emptied after about two days. - Honey pots are stored in the medicine den and are strictly off-limits to anyone but the healers.

[ghostclangen]

Marshlily’s entire body trembles. It’s been doing that a lot these past few moons, small but violent jerks that the others have long since stopped pointing out for fear of a verbal lashing. That, too, is new. New and wrong on her tongue.

She bites down on that traitor of a tongue as she tentatively approaches the leader’s den. Charredtail, beloved Charredtail, is out on patrol, but Hornetstar, she knows, is curled up in her nest. 

What a lazy bitch. 

The thought, not only cruel but patently untrue, stabs its way into the back of Marshlily’s mind and makes her cringe. These things have been happening lately, too: bursts of overwhelming anger that isn’t her own, like something’s living in her head. She shakes her head to dismiss it, a compulsion that never really makes her feel better, and pads up to the mouth of the den. “Hornetstar?” she calls softly.

Hornetstar was, as predicted, curled up in her nest, but she raises her head at the sound of Marshlily’s voice. “Oh, Marshlily! What’s up?” she asks, a smile in her voice. Leave it to Hornetstar to treat her nicely when she doesn’t deserve it.

Forcing her muscles to stop shaking, Marshlily settles down next to Hornetstar’s nest. “Uh, so … I wanted to talk to you about something. I have been for a while.”

Hornetstar frowns and tilts her head. “Talk to me about what?”

Marshlily begins to tremble again, this time only out of nerves and not … whatever’s been going on with her. You should know; you’re a Star-damned healer. A failure of one. That thought isn’t some disembodied feeling; it’s all her. When she sees the concern in Hornetstar’s eyes, she shakes her head again and says, “It’s nothing important. I mean, it’s important, but it’s not bad.”

Hornetstar breathes a sigh of clear relief, then gives her a bashful little chuckle. “Oh, good. You scared me a little.”

Marshlily huffs a laugh as well. Yeah, me too, she thinks. “So … okay. This has been bugging me for a while. A long time, I guess.” Shit, I should have come up with a script. “There’s nothing you really need to do about it, I just figured I should tell you.”

Hornetstar twitches her whiskers in acknowledgement, but doesn’t interrupt.

“I, uh … I really like …” Marshlily shakes her head. “No, I guess I love Charredtail. And- and not just like a friend. And I promise I don’t-”

“You’re in love with Charredtail? You’re in love with my mate?” Jealousy flashes in Hornetstar’s eyes, and she straightens up to stand over Marshlily. “Is that what you’ve been acting weird about? How could you do that!?”

YOU WRETCHED BITCH!

Marshlily squeezes her eyes tight and says, both to Hornetstar and to the rage in her head, “No, stop! I just …”

“I can’t believe you would-”

WRETCHED! YOU WRETCHED BITCH!

“Stop it!”

“No! Not when you’re trying to steal-”

DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE D

“- my mate! Can’t you just-”

IE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DI

“- keep this shit to yourself? I don’t-”

E DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

“STOP it!”

Marshlily’s voice raises into a shriek, and the world blinks out. 

When she comes to her senses, Marshlily turns and vomits, first the actual contents of her stomach and then the sick bile of her empty insides. Her nostrils are flooded with the tang of blood. What she saw when she opened her eyes, she saw only for an instant, but it’s burned into the back of her eyelids now; closing her eyes again doesn’t help. 

Hornetstar lies in front of her, her throat sliced open, eyes glassy and blank. The fur of her neck is stiff with blood. She’s not breathing. 

A shiver goes down Marshlily’s spine as she hears pawsteps behind her. Breathing quick and shallow, she whips around to see a crowd of wide-eyed cats; her heart sinks as she recognizes Charredtail among them. He raises his eyes to meet hers, and the pain and rage in them almost makes her vomit again.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she chokes out, but she knows it is. The warm, wet feeling of blood still lingers between her toes. 

KILL THEM KILL THEM KILL THEM KILL THEM ALL

The terror that kept her pinned to the spot whips around into the need to run, both for her own sake and for the others’. How many more loved ones’ lives would the voice in her head make her take?

Before any of the others can react, Marshlily pushes through the crowd and bolts toward the mouth of the Cavern. The pounding of her heart drowns out the sound of her paws on the rocky earth, but they can’t drown out the violence that clings to her: KILL THEM KILL THEM KILL THEM! EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM KILL THEM KILL THEM KILL THEM DIE DIE DIE DIE!

She doesn’t stop until she physically has to, crumpling down onto some rock somewhere. Where is she? Is she even on GhostClan territory anymore? Well, it doesn’t matter—some cat will track her down. Some cat will find her, and some cat will kill her. Some cat will be right to.

Marshlily can’t keep back a heartbroken yowl at the thought, first for herself, then for Hornetstar, then for the clanmates she’s  betrayed. What’s wrong with me? What happened? Why is this happening?

She’s been dreaming of the Dark Forest every night. Maybe this is just a continuation … another bad dream. It has to be, right? She’d never do that. That’s what she tells herself, anyway, over and over, trying to drown out those disembodied feelings that still haunt her. Some cat’s fury sits beside her devastation. What she would give to get it out …

“Marshlily? Marshlily!”

Marshlily doesn’t register the voice calling her name at first. It takes a few seconds to recognize it in her addled state, but then it clicks. “Hornetstar?” she calls weakly.

Another few seconds, and there’s a cat beside her—a real one. A good one. “It’s okay, Marshlily. I told everyone to stay back at camp. What’s going on?” Hornetstar’s voice is hardly audible, but even though it’s quiet, Marshlily can hear the concern in it—concern, oddly enough, for her.

She raises her head to look at Hornetstar, but changes her mind. She’s not worthy of looking her in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening, I …”

Her eyes widen when Hornetstar does the opposite of what she should be doing: she presses her forehead against Marshlily’s shoulder and purrs. “What are you doing?” Marshlily asks. “Why aren’t you …”

“We’ve all been so worried about you!” Hornetstar cries. “I’m sorry I yelled, I was just—I was scared. It doesn’t even matter, you can have Charredtail all to yourself for all I care, just …” She sighs, and her voice is choked with tears when she says, “I just want you to be you again.”

TOO BAD, MOTHERFUCKER! SHE’LL NEVER BE HER AGAIN!

As touched as she is, Marshlily pushes Hornetstar away, sending her stumbling backwards. “You have to get out of here,” she says, trembling once more. “I’m just going to kill you again.”

“I have seven more lives-”

KILL HER! KILL THE BITCH! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO! TAKE HIM FOR YOURSELF!

“Get out of here!” Marshlily shrieks as the twitching overtakes her. “You have to leave me.”

“Marshlily …”

“I’ll be fine! I just—I need to be alone. I need to …” She shakes her head. “Just … please.”

Hornetstar stands there silently for a moment, then takes a shuddering breath and says, “I’ll be back for you, okay? Celebi and Hubert and I, we’ll figure something out.”

KILL HER NOW! WHILE YOU STILL CAN!

“Okay, right,” Marshlily says hurriedly. “Just leave me alone for right now, okay?”

Hornetstar stares at her for another moment, then darts forward to press her forehead against Marshlily’s shoulder again. “We’re gonna fix you, okay?”

She’s gone before Marshlily can respond, bounding up the rocks back to the Cavern. Sitting beside the alien violence in her head, Marshlily watches her leave, then hangs her head. What’s wrong with me?

[cryptidclaw]

CW// Blood, Sewer slide-dull (5uicid@l) thoughts, Pregnancy, Lab0ur, Implied Infant d3ath

The Birth and the Blizzard

Squrrielflight felt only the cold as she trudges through the snow. She and Leafpool had finally made it outside of Thunder Order territory, only for the blizzard to worsen. Sharpened hail battered their faces, and winds bore into their pelts, entering into their bones. The sisters had never experienced this cold before, and they were sure they'd never experience it again. Stars above, Squrrilflight prayed. We broke the code.. but have mercy on our kits. Her whiskers were frozen. Please!

"No!" Leafpool's sharp cry made her stiffen. As Squirrilflight turned sharply. Just then, the blizzard's direction changed, and her mouth was swarmed with the scent of blood. Leafpool had been experiencing pain since nightfall; the small pool of blood in the snow only confirmed what they already knew. Something was wrong.

"Squrriel..." Her sister's voice was trembling. Squrrielflight swiftly buried her nose in her sister's neck fur.

"I know..."

Leafpool had told her that stress had been affecting her pregnancy. Clan life with one inexperienced, young healer had proven difficult; Cinderspark's death had taken a heavy toll on all of Thunder Order. Brightheart had done her best to help ease Leafpool's transition to head herbalist by helping Sorreltail's kits, but the empty absence of her mentor and the pregnancy of herself and Squrrielflight had only added stress.

"We'll get through this."

Is what Squrrielflight had said. The sister had always known when the other was upset. Squrrielflight had stomped over to the medicine den and demanded Leafpool tell her what was wrong. I know this isn't about Cinderspark because you bloody won't stop crouching! You're jumpy and avoiding me! I've been trying to tell you I've been expecting kits!

When Leafpool had collapsed and confessed her own pregnancy, Squrrielflight froze. Of the millions of thoughts going through her head, one stood out. We'll get through this. She'd meant it and would continue to repeat it in the following months. Until it was true.

"They're not going to make it!" Leafpool practically wailed. She turned to the pool of blood. "I've been bleeding since dawn..."

Squrrielflight felt her belly cramp. She lowered her head to keep her sister from seeing. We have to make it! Gritting her teeth, she turned and stepped towards the blizzard again.

"The hollow is close!" She called back, turning towards Leafpool. "We'll get through this!"

"The wind is too strong to pick up a scent," Leafpool argued, "and we can't see anything! We're lost!"

"We're not lost!" Squrrielflight snapped, pretending to ignore the desperation in her sister's eyes. "We've been walking in the same direction this entire time! I chose this hollow for that purpose!"

"You don't even know if we've been walking straight!"

"How else would we walk?!"

"Squilf, we're the size of two foxes with boulders on their back!"

"Well, do you have a better then?"

Leafpool's eyes darken. "We build a den out of snow."

Squrrielflight's heart sank; an old warrior's tale of the snow-den kit fading rose in her mind. "They'll die!"

Leafpool eyes were wild. "They will die if we die!"

Squrrielflight watches flashes of fear, excitement, dread, and love dance in her sister's gaze. Leafpool squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't want you to die."

Her voice was so quiet the blizzard nearly swallowed her confession. Squrrielflight's heart shattered.

"Please don't do that..." She felt her voice squeak her words, but she didn't care. Leafpool eyes flashed again, her ear flattening. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. Squrrielflight touched noses with her sister, pressing her body against hers until she felt skin. Leafpool was trembling again, whispering small apologies.

"I miss her too... and don't be..."

They held each other for a moment. A silent comfort. The grief shared had made the blizzard soften ever so slightly, but the cold still roared in the wind.

"What do we do...?" Squrrielflight whispered.

"I don't--" Leafpool stopped. Her body became rigid.

Squrrielflight looked up at her sister's face: her panic was gone, replaced by horror. Squrrielflight felt her fur rise. She slowly turned her back to her sister, shielding her.

A large figure stood a fox length away from them.

Squrrielflight slid out her claws. She began to crouch but felt another cramp rip into her. She couldn't stop herself from crying out, staggering slightly. Leafpool seemed to snap her out of her shock, immediately coming to her sister's side. The figure didn't move, but as Squrriellfight blinked, the figure was suddenly closer.

It was a cat. A she-cat.

Her pelt was dull despite the bright snow around them; Squrrielflight could just make out mute tortoiseshell-and-white fur. Her appearance seemed to be an echo in the blizzard, disappearing for a moment before appearing again. Her eyes were a void black, as was the jagged clawed scar on her face. They seemed to be connected by the black liquid dripping down her face. Blood? Another scar raked around her back with the same substances. Only then did Squrrielflight notice that the she-cat looked...wet?

"Hello..." Leafpool spoke softly. Squrrielflight realized her sister's deminer changed. She sounded curious. "Who...who are you? You scared us..."

"What are you doing?" Squrrielflight hissed.

"Her appreciate scared me," Leafpool confessed, "but after a few heartbeats, I realised she meant us no harm."

This must be a healer thing. Squrrielflight felt annoyed but relieved. The cramping was a dull ache now, but she wasn't sure they could trust this...cat.

"You're dead," Leafpool spoke plainly. Squirrielflight saw a spark in her eye. "Can you help--"

Without finishing her sentence, the she-cat began to walk towards them. Her body faded as she passed through the sisters and continued to walk away. A feeling of love and protection passed through Squrrielflight as the she-cat's body entered them. A newfound strength heated her body, making the blizzard feel like a breeze on a greenleaf's day. The kits inside her squirmed and kicked. Squrrielflight felt her own love course through her. By the look on her sister's face, she'd felt everything too.

The she-cat glanced over her shoulder, her fur still dripping.

My name is Mapleshade. The torsieshell's voice echoed in their minds. I have come to protect your kits. She paused, seemingly deep in thought. She looked from sister to sister, the void in her gaze was like the new moon.

You will get through this.

(((time for bed this took 3 hours. Nothing like siblings arguing in a blizzard while in labour #sisters)))

IM GOING FERAL OVER THIS ITS SO GOOOD WHATTTTT

im so happy rn OUGHHHHH

love love love love

[fili-oeuvre]

{ INT. CONTAINMENT LABS - CENTRAL HALL }

Samantha led Cosmos through a narrow hall. He made sure to keep pace with her since time. As they walked, he wondered about where she was taking him.

She hadn’t said what exactly or where exactly she was taking him when she came to retrieve him. All she said was that he needed to follow behind her.

He noticed how there seemed to be less and less individual rooms as they went. It was becoming more and more like she was leading him to a more isolated part of the labs.

He wasn’t entirely sure whether to feel uneasy or anxious, but he tried not to think about it. That would cause him to just assume the worse and that wouldn’t help him keep a leveled head.

Besides, he didn’t want to get worked up and then it just turned out that she wanted him to do another obstacle course again.

He just looked down at his own feet for the rest of walk.

Cosmos: [ I hope that… whatever this is won’t be too bad ]

——————

{ INT. CONTAINMENT LABS - OUTSIDE PROCTOR’S PERSONAL LABS }

They finally stopped outside of a large door that opened after only a second of arriving to it.

There stood a very tall no-fur who wore a similar suit to Samantha, but had two dull green stripes on either side of his neck along with the black section around it. His suit was also a dull gray rather than white, with black sections that covered where his forearms and hands should be.

The no-fur had short dark hair that was neatly slicked back and had no visible hairs out of place. It was a bit unnerving how… neat he looked.

Neat seemed like a nice way to put it.

Though that wasn’t what really caught Cosmos’s attention.

On either side of the no-fur’s mouth, he seemed to have two dark "holes" or "spots" that pulsed a faint fading glow. From those “holes”, dark lines went along his jaw to disappear under his clothes and back around towards the back of his neck. It also went down the middle to trace the front of the man’s throat like the natural stripes of some insects Cosmos had seen before in the forest.

Behind the man, a long dark tail flicked behind him. It seemed to have be furry with a tufted end, but something seemed weird about it in a way that he couldn't place it.

Cosmos: [ I didn’t know that they could be this tall! Is… is that a tail? They can have tails?! ]

He looked at the man again and thought of how he seemed to rival even Castor in terms of height.

The tall no-fur looked at Samantha, completely ignoring the small fox who was just trying to take in the very sight of him.

Proctor: Thank you, Samantha. You may return to your other duties now.

His mouth didn't even open and yet Cosmos heard a voice emitting from him. The voice didn't even sound remotely like it was coming from a living being. Maybe from something that was trying to imitate another living being.

He then realized that the voice seemed to be coming from the “holes” on the man’s face.

Samantha didn't seem to react at all to the strangeness of it, but simply nodded and walked back down the hall, leaving Cosmos alone with the strange, tall no-fur.

Those cold gray eyes felt like they were seeing directly into Cosmos's soul. A shiver went down his spine. That gaze made him want to bury himself under a tree and never come out.

Proctor: Please, follow me. *he turned to walk into the room, tail flicking casually behind him as he walked*

Cosmos followed without even realizing he was, as if something in the man’s voice beckoned him forward. He curled his tail around his legs nervously as he looked around the room.

The room was spacious and wide. It sort of reminded him of the inside of a healer den with how big it was. Though, the healer dens were normally full of roots and shelves and other things such as treatment areas that made great use of the space.

This one just seemed to be… empty.

It also had much dimmer lighting than the rooms Cosmos had been in before. The ceiling in particular seemed to be completely shrouded in darkness, but he could swear that he heard something moving around up there.

It wasn’t much of a problem for him though. His eyes adjusted quickly to the low lighting, but he wasn’t sure if that made it better now that he could see what was on the ceiling.

A collection of long, thin… things were nestled closely together, but some were writhing about as if impatient.

It reminded him of how snakes would come together to hibernate in the colder months. Though, snakes seemed a lot less scary than whatever this was.

He was so focused on the center of the mass that he didn’t notice the mechanical tendrils that were quietly lowering behind him. He did however hear the soft sounds that made, but before he could anything a few of the tendrils wrapped around him like a giant snake.

Cosmos: *he tried to gasp in shock but no sound came out* *eyes widened with fear and shock as the tendrils kept him secure in their tight grip*

Proctor: *has his back turned to Cosmos* Don’t even try and talk or fight your way out of this. Some of the other ones thought they could, but it won’t work. Just let it happen, it’ll make my job easier.

Before Cosmos could process what he said a sharp pain shot as a needle was strategically pierced into the side of his neck. With precision, the needle released a substance into his bloodstream, working almost immediately as he felt his muscles to go numb and his head get dizzy.

He couldn’t even scream or shout. All he could do was let out small sounds of pain and confusion as the drug started to overwhelm his system.

More mechanical tendrils moved to hold him up and effortlessly move him to a large table at the center of the room. Moving with precision and surprising speed, the tendrils placed him on the table and holographic restraints appeared to hold down his arms, legs, and head. Bright lights from the ceiling blinded his blurring vision as he struggled to concentrate on what was going on.

Proctor: *he walked back to stand next to the table, looking down at Cosmos* Don’t fret little one, you won’t feel anything when I cut you open. *he reached down to grab at Cosmos’s face to force him to look directly at him, placing his other hand next to Cosmos’s head to keep himself balanced as he leaned over the smaller being* Just relax and don’t fight it.

Cosmos could have sworn that he saw the tall man smiling as he moved to stand over him. Though, it could’ve just been his imagination.

His vision faded to darkness as the drug overtook him.

——————

{ A WHOLE STUDY SESSION LATER }

Proctor: That will be all for today. *has his tendrils lower the unconscious but intact body onto a transport table, careful not to damage the specimen* *flicks his tail at an awaiting attendant to beckon them forward to take the transport table* Please take him back to his cell. I’ve gotten what I need from him for now.

——————

{ INT. CONTAINMENT B: 213 }

The attendant placed the specimen on the bed before promptly leaving. The specimen was still breathing so they had no reason to stay. Besides, they’d likely be waking up in a few moments as the drug wore off.

In the room, a few minutes after they had left, the small little fox stirred. He was still feeling dizzy from the drug, but he regained enough control of his body to curl up into a ball. He hugged his tail like a safety blanket, burying his face in it as if it would chase off anything that tried to hurt him.

He willed himself into a dreamless sleep.

——————

Part 5…

uhhhh, yeah, um, he'll be fine

(*pats Cosmos on the head*)

Previous: Part 4

Next: Part 6

[elementclangen]

Moon 282-Leaf-fall

The Healer’s den was almost empty! Creekstar (136) had finally begun to move on from Primcrest’s death, leaving Lakepelt (90) just caring for the injured Alderflight (38) and Greenrapid (38).  But then Hatchswipe (27) and Sofanthiel (71) got whitecough and the population in the Healer’s den doubled.  But in a spot of desperately needed news, Whorlstorm (27) has announced that she is expecting kits!  These will be the first kits born in the Clan since she herself was born.  Whorlstorm and Sweet Marmalade (67) have had a bit of a rough relationship lately, but they had a conversation that went well.  Maybe the birth of his grandkits will help even more.  Dawnfreckle (65) continues to not be a big fan of Alderflight and is jealous of his warm, long fur.  Even with weak fire magic, it’s hard to stay warm while out on patrols.  Although Brightmouse (57) does her best to regulate the camp’s temperature while she’s there.  Downgaze (63) still really enjoys spending time with Alderflight and hopes that, once he’s up to going on patrols, they are assigned to go out together.  Also, apparently, Alderflight is a very skilled fighter, because both Cavecatcher and Almondback want to compliment his technique. The terrible triad is still having a bit of trouble.  Skipneedle (57) is developing a bit of a crush on Almondback (53), which does not thrill Brightmouse, as Brightmouse has a crush on Almondback’s mate, Kestrelcreek (71).  Yeah.  Drama.  The loss of Archdapple and Skipneedle’s promotion to deputy seem to be hitting the sisters hard.  In the short time she’s been in the Clan, Sofanthiel has made herself well liked.  Almondback sees how considerate she is and Sweet Marmalade (67) notices that she’s really making an effort to help out around camp, despite being sick.  Despite being close in age, Greenrapid and Cavecatcher (40) have never been very close.  But now Greenrapid is starting to notice just how pretty Cavecatcher’s eyes are.   .  The Clan also welcomes another couple of kittypets!  Skipneedle, Sweet Marmalade, Cavecatcher, and Bluestripe (57) find a powerless former kittypet named Cragstem (33) who has redcough.  There’s a pretty good chance he won’t survive, but they take him back to Lakepelt anyways.  Dawnfreckle and Nettlestripe (51) also find a kittypet, named Tanglechirp (29), who joins the Clan.  In a bit of a surprise, he has magic!  A medium strength wind-blessing, which is much needed as Almondback is currently the only wind-blessed cat in the Clan.

Healer’s Den: Alderflight (head damage), Greenrapid (beak bite), Sofanthiel (whitecough), Hatchswipe (whitecough), Cragstem (redcough), Whorlstorm (pregnant)

[clangenbriar]

Dawn Colony, Moon 1 - Newleaf

POV ;; Streampaw, Herbalist Apprentice

Streampaw knew the training of a Herbalist and medic was very far off from the training of a warrior. He knew it since before he stepped up to Cicadasplash and asked to train under them last moon at the end of Leafbare. He remembered how nervous he was, yet giddy as the senior tom seemed to beam at him with pride he knew he didn’t deserve, and quickly took them under their wing.

And yet, he wondered if he made the right choice. He was glad he could help Cicadasplash, as they were the lone healer in Dawn Colony for so long, and he did genuinely like learning about all the different plants that grew in the territory. But was just ‘liking’ enough? From his place at the top entrance of the Herb Den, he could see the clan bustle about, finding his littermates among them. Robinpaw was pacing impatiently around their mentor Smalldrift, who was busy eating a squirrel and rolling their eyes as the young dark ginger tom kept pushing to start their training right that moment. Near the warriors den, Primpaw was chuckling along with Brightblaze and Rainpounce, the trio all pretending they couldn’t find Sandkit, who giggled loudly as they hid under fern leaves. Streampaw smiled at all the antics of his brothers, then sighed, he missed training with them. They were always together, ever since they were three kits lost in an empty field before Larkfur found them. And now their schedules didn’t line up as well as they used to. Really, why couldn’t he ever make his mind up on things?

“Oh- mouse whiskers!” groaned a voice, breaking Streampaw’s thoughts. He turned around swiftly, ducking down into the hollow- green eyes immediately fixing on a cluster of fallen dock leaves and his mentor, Cicadasplash, who looked flustered with himself.

“Are you alright?” Streampaw asked, using a paw to shuffle the leaves together so he could pick them up neatly.

“Of course I am,” the dark gray and white ticked tom huffed, “I just wish I wasn’t so clumsy these days. I’m not that old, you know.” He shook his head and gave Streampaw a soft look as they placed the herbs back to their proper place, “Thank you, Stream.”

The smaller white tom felt his fur prickle up bashfully at the pure sincerity of the other, over such a small thing, too. He felt he should tell Cicadasplash about his indecisiveness and insecurity, about wondering if he could ever make a good Herbalist, and opened his mouth to say something, anything-

“Good afternoon, Cicadasplash, Streampaw…”

Mouth half open, then quickly closed, Streampaw looked over as his mother Clovershade entered the den with a limp, one forepaw raised.

“What happened to you paw, Mom?” he asked, leaning in to inspect it, his mentor following suit in a mirrored fashion.

The snow-colored molly smiled, a bit strained from the pain of the sting, yet still amused by the pair, “It’s nothing too serious, just a bee sting on a stroll. I really should have been paying attention to where I stepped.”

“Nonsense, those bees are sly things, they enjoy stinging, I tell you!” Cicadasplash guffawed, giving a nudge to Streampaw and instructing, “Fetch me those blackberry leaves we gathered yesterday, would you?”

Streampaw nodded, going to the farther end of the herb store and plucking the small round leaves. He watched the tom stare at the leaves, then back at him, before saying, “Come, you’ll be taking care of the patient this time, I’ll show you what to do.”

Confusion turned into surprise, Streampaw hadn’t done actual mending yet. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Cicadasplash chuckled, “Here, chew these leaves until their smooth pulp, then apply it her paw.”

Streampaw blinked before beginning to chew the leaves, trying to be as efficient as possible. He didn’t like seeing anyone in pain- no matter how small, much more his beloved adoptive mother. They had a sharp taste, and the scent made him almost sneeze, yet he managed to do the job.

“My, my, look at this, my little Stream a proper Herbalist!” Clovershade cooed as her son applied the poultice to her left forepaw.

“Mo-ther”, Streampaw huffed, embarrassed, scrunching their nose as the taste of blackberry leaves lingered in his mouth. “I’m not a proper Herbalist yet.”

The long-furred she-cat purred, “I’m still very proud.” She flicked her hazel gaze at Cicadasplash, “How did he do?”

“Oh quite alright, just perfect, splendid really,” they nodded, giving the apprentice a cheery smile.

Streampaw smiled back, before quickly asking, “How does your paw feel now, mom?”

“The pains numbed quite a bit, but not all the way. It feels much better than before, and I take I’ll have to be off this paw for the rest of the day, yes?” She was still looking at him, not his mentor and Streampaw faltered for a moment.

“Yes- Yes I think you should. It will soothe your paw.” A desperate look at Cicadasplash, who laughed at his too-serious look.

“He’s right of course, a sign of my superior teachings, yes.”

Both mother and son snorted, the younger rosessted tom rolling his eyes.

Streampaw let a quiet purr out as Clovershade touched the top of his head with her chin, “Thank you, my dear Stream, I feel so much better. I know you’ll be a fine Herbalist.”

Streampaw felt a warm feeling tug at his chest. “How do you know?” He whispered.

“Because you’re kind, and you know how to listen, and I know you have a part of you that wants to prove yourself to everyone.” His mother said gently, then winked at the partially stunned apprentice, whose words escaped him.

With a final hum, Clovershade left, pushing her way up and through the ferns that doored the den. Streampaw watched her go, startling as he felt a tail go over his. He looked up at Cicadasplash, who continued to stare at the entrance before glancing down at them. “I know that you’re not sure about staying as a Herbalist apprentice.”

Streampaw averted their eyes to their paws.

“And that’s okay. You have a kind heart, I know you wanted to become my apprentice because you knew I was struggling to keep up with last Leafbare. If you want to go back to Warrior training now, I won’t be angry. But if you want to stick around more, and learn even more about herbs and healing, I’ll always be happy with that.”

Streampaw sniffled, a wet feeling in their throat as they leaned against their mentor. He thought about it. About going back and training with his littermates. He also thought about the warm feeling after helping his mother, the proud look in Cicadaspash’s eyes, learning the use of plants he’d never thought of before.

“I-I think, I think I’d like to stay. As your apprentice, I mean. I.. I like being it." He shuffled his paws. "Please continue to teach me.”

The old tom purred, “Of course, Streampaw.”

A rustle of fern and foliage, “May I come in?” called a young, nervous voice from above.

“It’s Falcontail!” Streampaw mewed, identifying the slightly raspy voice.

“It quite is Falcontail, yes,” the Herbalist took a step forward, “Yes, come down Falcontail! What ails you today young bird?”

Streampaw heard the voice before seeing the ginger speckled tom stumble down, “I think I’ve eaten the wrong piece of prey.”

Cicadasplash tutted, gesturing to an open nest for the tom-cat to lay in. A quick look at his apprentice sent Streampaw rummaging for chervil.

He knew what to do.

Events Referenced

Streampaw is feeling down

Robinpaw is pestering Smalldrift

Primpaw is having a good day

Rainpounce and Brightblaze are having a conversation

Sandkit is hiding under a bush from Brighblaze, but they can't stop giggling.

Cicadasplash made a mess of the herbs and is panicking

Clovershade has a sorepaw from a bee sting.

Falcontail visits the Herbalist Den.

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Prev | First | Next

Scorchplume padded into camp in the early hours of dawn to find it entirely empty. She frowned, looking around at the swaying grass, and wondered where everyone had gone. Her stomach twisted nervously. Had they decided to move on without her? 

She poked her head into Goldenstar’s den and found it empty. She tried the healers’ den and found Sagetooth organizing herbs in the back of the den, humming to herself. Scorchplume stepped up beside her and watched the herbs as they sorted themselves into the various storage nooks, mesmerized by their fluid movements. 

“Where is everyone?” she asked. 

Sagetooth twitched her ear and said, “In the nursery. Didn’t you hear?” 

“No, I hadn’t,” said Scorch. 

“Well, they’ve been waiting for a while, you should hurry up.” 

“Oh,” Scorch frowned. How could she have forgotten? “Alright.” She stepped out of the healers’ den and directly into the nursery where Mystique sat curled around five squirming kittens. Beside her, sat Razor, who looked up as Scorchplume entered and smiled in an unnervingly kind manner. 

“There you are,” he purred. “Come on, we’ve been waiting for you.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said instinctively. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She stepped up close and settled beside him, tail curled tightly around her paws. 

“Oh, not at all,” he said, leaning against her shoulder and wrapping his tail around her back. “Aren’t they beautiful?” Scorch lifted a brow and looked down at the kittens, each one a ghostly white tabby. She had never cared much for kits and these ones weren’t exceptional in any way. 

She shrugged. “I guess? All kits just look weird to me.” 

“Don’t say that,” Razor smiled and, despite his completely innocent tone, something unpleasant spiked inside her. “You know, I was thinking, since Mystique doesn’t want to keep them, maybe you and I could raise them.” They were sitting in the corner of his garden and the wind rustled the leaves of the bushes like the sound of birds chattering an alarm. 

“Don’t you want them?” asked Razor. 

“Don’t you want them?” asked Mystique.

“Don’t you want them?” asked Goldenstar, sitting in Razor’s place.

Scorchplume snapped awake, paw pads clammy with sweat. Her fur clung suffocatingly to her sides, trapping the heat of her own fear against her body. Beside her, Goldenstar stirred, disturbed by her sudden movement and heavy breathing. 

“Hey,” she said, voice bleary with sleep, “what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Scorchplume lied, “Go back to sleep, you moron.” Goldenstar squinted in concern and shifted to lay on her side so she could face Scorchplume more fully. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me but you can if you want.” Scorch felt some emotion squirming within her throat. 

“I’m fine, really,” she laughed convincingly. “I just need to make waste. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Goldenstar said, sounding unsure but incredibly sleepy, and settled back into the nest with a yawn. Scorch didn’t know what to do with the fondness that image invoked in her so she left it behind like a lump on the ground as she slipped out of the den and into the night. 

Yarrowshade sat outside the elders’ den on guard duty. Fogpaw and Slatepaw were starting to fall asleep over their meal. Barleybee and Aldertail were just returning to camp with new fresh-kill. 

Scorch watched how the two hunters laughed easily, whispering a shared joke. Aldertail smiled and glanced away and her eyes fell on Scorch and the smile faded into a look of mild surprise. Scorch swallowed. Aldertail smiled again, this time with her brows pushing together into an uncertain furrow, and raised one paw in greeting. 

The gesture was not lost on Scorch. This must have been the first time Aldertail had held her gaze. She swallowed again, tightly, and turned away, skulking off into the grass to do her business. When she came back to camp, the only cat left outside was Yarrowshade. He looked up at her as she passed and offered her a casual smile. 

“Hey,” he asked, “how’s it going?” 

“Alright,” she shrugged, padding closer. “I’m guessing you’re bored out of your mind?” 

“So bored,” he groaned. “Guard duty is the worst. Mind sitting with me for a while?” 

Scorch hesitated. She could easily say no. It wasn’t like sitting on guard duty was any more appealing to her than it was to him. But she could still taste that strange emotion and as long as the taste was in her mouth, she wasn’t eager to go back to the den. 

“I suppose so,” she shrugged again and sat down next to him. She glanced over his shoulder into the darkness where Mystique lay, and said, “How has she been lately?”

“Sulky,” Yarrowshade whispered. “She doesn’t do much but eat and sleep these days.”

“I guess that’s pregnancy for you,” said Scorhcplume. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Or she’s still hung up on Raz- uh.” He stopped himself halfway through the name. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Scorch lashed her tail a bit. “I’m so sick of people walking on eggshells around me.” 

“I get that,” Yarrowshade sighed. “It was the same kind of thing when, uh,” he looked like he was about to censor himself again but her expression seemed to make him think twice, “when Nightfrost died.” Despite continuing, his voice was softer than it had been. Scorch pushed down the wave of jealousy that reverent tone resurfaced within her. She hated how clearly upset he still was and she hated herself for hating him for his grief. 

Yarrowshade, unaware of the conflict inside her, continued. “It’s like, I get that they’re trying to be nice but being handled with kitten paws is so annoying. Like, I’m a grown cat, not a little baby.” 

“Exactly,” Scorchplume found herself agreeing with him. “I hate how any sign of discomfort brings out a series of guilty looks and ‘are you okay’s. It’s demeaning!” 

“Yeah,” nodded Yarrowshade, smiling a little. “Why can’t they just let us bury our emotions deep, deep down where no one will ever find them?” They both laughed and then fell into a somber quiet, looking at their paws. Scorchplume took a slow breath and let it out with a huff as she glanced sideways at him. There was a longing between them, a desire for connection she was too broken to indulge. 

“I had a dream that Razor wanted to keep Mystique’s kittens,” she confessed in a half-hearted attempt to indulge it anyway. “Like, we would raise them together.” 

“Oh, gross,” Yarrowshade frowned. “That sucks, man, I’m sorry.” 

“It was pretty sucky,” she nodded. “I barely remember it now but he was just so… sweet. It was, like, really unsettling, you know? Like, I thought for a second, did I imagine everything?” She shuddered. As impossible as that was, the thought still terrified her. 

“You super didn’t,” Yarrowshade said. “I only met the guy once but he was the worst. The way he spoke to Nightfrost made me want to cut my own ears off.” 

Scorch let out a breath with the tone of a laugh. “Yeah. Good riddance.” She ruffled her fur, trying to shake off the feeling of his nose on the back of her neck. She wondered if she would ever be able to escape the lingering ghost of his touch and realized a second too late that tears were starting to fall down her cheeks. She glanced sharply at Yarrowshade, tensing for the unbearable sympathy she knew was coming. 

Yarrowshade’s mouth was drawn into a thin line as he watched her but he didn’t say anything. He just sighed and leaned over to rest his head on top of hers, looking out over the camp as if they were just enjoying the night air. Scorchplume sobbed and leaned into him, overwhelmed with gratitude and misery at the same time. Yarrowshade laid his tail over hers. 

The evening was cold against her cheeks, quiet, and still. Distantly, an owl called in the night. Scorchplume thanked whatever higher power there was, StarClan maybe, for the fact that she hadn’t managed to drive Yarrowshade away. What would she have done if they still weren’t speaking to each other? She closed her eyes and sniffled and focused on the sensation of her tears evaporating, contrasted by the warmth of his fur against her side. 

“Do…” she started, unsure where she was going. “Do you ever wonder what Goldie sees in you?” Yarrowshade shifted and swallowed. 

He was quiet for a long beat before he whispered back, “All the time.” 

“Me too,” she breathed. “I don’t deserve her.” 

“I know how you feel,” he said and she heard the truth of it in his voice. 

“I don’t deserve you,” she said, chest shaking with an almost sob. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking down at her. Under his gaze, she suddenly felt small and exposed and ugly to her core. 

“I was so cruel to you -” she said, unable to look at him, “I’m so cruel to everyone - but you don’t seem to mind! Why do you still care about me?” 

“I don’t know,” Yarrowshade swallowed, his voice sounding thick with something. “I just do. I don’t think we get to choose that kind of thing.” 

“Well you shouldn’t,” she huffed. “I’m just a leech. Sooner or later I’ll suck you dry and you’ll hate me.” 

“Yeah, right,” he rolled his eyes and she looked up to scowl at him. “Look, we’re all just trying to do what we think is right or best or whatever. I’ve made a lot of mistakes too. People still care about me even if I don’t know why. That’s just… what it’s like to be feline I guess.” 

Scorch sniffed pathetically and said, “Well, being feline sucks.” 

“That’s for sure,” he nodded. “But we are what we are. Might as well keep doing what makes us happy even if it doesn’t make any sense.” Scorch hummed reluctantly. She could see the logic in his point but it didn’t make it easier. 

“I guess,” she shrugged. Inside the elders’ den, Mystique shifted, bell jingling gently, and Scorch’s entire body tensed. She looked over her shoulder, worried she had been overheard, but Mystique’s eyes were closed and her swollen sides heaved evenly with her breath. Scorchplume sighed. 

“Why don’t you go back to bed,” said Yarrowshade. 

“Yeah…” Scorch groaned reluctantly. “I should.” 

“Maybe we can go hunting when I’m off duty,” he suggested with a casual shrug. 

“Yeah, maybe,” she stood and settled her fur. “We’ll see.” 

“Goodnight, Scorch,” he said with a little smile.

“Goodnight, dummy,” smiled Scorchplume. He grinned wider and she chuckled a little as she turned and headed back to Goldenstar’s den. As she settled back into the nest, Goldenstar stirred again and, upon finding Scorch beside her, hummed blissfully and wrapped her arms around Scorchplume’s neck. Scorch rolled her eyes and let herself be pulled into a cozy embrace. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on sleep, and with Goldenstar wrapped around her, she quickly dozed off again, this time into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

[skuffypaw]

What is the premise behind Mumblepaw's 2nd Chance?

HI thank you for asking

ok very basic runover

mumblepaw is our protag (shocking). ex-loner joined caveclan. he befriends leopardpaw because theyre both punching bags for the other apprentices (most notably condorpaw)

in an accident mumblepaw injures leopardpaw and condorpaw convinces him to leave him at ruinsclan’s border to stage an ambush so it wouldn’t be their fault. leopardpaw disappears for a few days. this event rlly distances mumblepaw from the others more

leopardpaw comes back. he has kin in ruinsclan that were also their doctors so win!! this is when leopardpaw and mumblepaw get rlly close

one night they sneak out to hve fun and mess around but mumblepaw slips and falls into the river and drowns. the last thing he remembers before dying is leopardpaw trying to save him

boom wakes up in heaven. spirit cats tell him “ok we fucked up” cuz his death was like a butterfly effect and literally caused the destruction of the clans in the future so they send him back with a neat little prophecy and gnarly white markings

mumblepaw gets back to caveclan fucked up and everyone’s asking him questions but he only asks wheres leopardpaw. nobody knows, he’s disappeared. so after looking for him mumblepaw assumes hes dead

after a couple of months of grief mumblepaw becomes mumblethroat. since he’s spent a lot of time in the healer’s bay he’s close w the doctors driptail and wolfpaw. mumblethroat decides to tell them ab the prophecy which they decide to tell the leader and deputy (yawningstar and sheephowl) so they can decide what to do moving forwards

they find out thru isleclan that a strange cat attacked their patrols near the upwalker’s den (a town) and that they are observed to have a strange dislike for clan cats. it almost seemed like fear. this part of the story is where bogslip and kestrelfeather (the other apprentices that were friends with condorheart) become important as they get closer with mumble

anywho they go to a barn to disguise their scent (turns out bogslip’s dad who left the clans now lives there and might be dating driptail) and with the help of condorheart’s dad blackpuddle they get an account from a kittypet named ruby (condorheart’s brother)

ruby tells them that kittypets and rogues alike have began to fear ‘the havoc’, a cat that brings chaos everywhere they go and have the strange ability to start fires. fire is part of the propjecy so mumble is like ‘oh shit thats the giy i need to kill’

after some discussion mumblethroat splits the group up to do some digging to see if they can find this guy. he comes across a soot black cat with a mask and a cape. they’re weird but doesn’t bother mumblethroat. everyone comes back empty handed.

mumblethroat is disappointed by their investigation being a failure and sneaks out to the upwalker’s den on his own to try and find more clues only to come across the masked cat again. they strike up a conversation and mumblethroat promises to see them again

so now mumble is juggling seeing a loner and investigating a propjecy. he eventually calls the loner mask because they say they don’t have a name. to not blow his cover of being a clan cat incase loners were hostile to them. he lets mask call him pumpkin. sometimes during their meetings mask has fresh wounds or smells strange. mask also is friends with a fox who ‘helps them out.’

one night mask warns him that a strange group of cats is watching him and he must be careful. mumblethroat starts to get nervous because his clan cat identity might’ve been uncovered. but the next day he gets abducted!!!

the group he was captured by call themselves the order of the moon (i dont actually have a name fir them yet) lead by two cats, wax and wane. wax is the brute paired with oleander (a dog and its handler basically) whilst wane is the brain. he tells mumble that he too has a connection with the stars and knows about the prophecy, and that he’ll be the one to take down the havoc and tootm will rule over the upwalker’s den. wane wont let a clan cat get in the way. when mumble asks how they found him turns out condorheart sold him out lol. but before wax could kill mumblethroat mask comes in and kicks ass. the order flees but not before it is revealed that mask is the havoc.

mumble feels betrayed; his closest friend is the one he has to kill. the havoc checks mumble for his wounds but driptail and wolfcall find him. the havoc becomes very defensive and learns that mumblethroat is a clan cat. they have a fight and the havoc kills driptail and vows to destory the clans.

mumblethroat prepares the clans to fight against the havoc. it must be easy i mean they’re one cat, right? wrong. the havoc (w the help of condorheart and his fox friend) sets the fucking forest on fire. so the clans focus on evacuating everyone to isleclan (isleclan is… on an isle) whilst mumblethroat had a showdown w the havoc and condorheart… except condorheart is a pussy and flees.

mumble v the havoc!! the havoc loses and mumblethroat kills them. he peels off their mask only to find wowza its leopardpaw!!!

the end. no home!! no chance to reconcile w ur long lost friend!!!

obvs the story is a huge wip and is very messy so we’ll wait and see how i’ll chang eit

there’s also leopardpaw’s side of the story. he’s kind of like the ice king. but im too lazy to type all of that out

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 36

Chapter 35 || Index || Chapter 37

Fireheart blinked awake to a darkened den, feeling rested even as his wounds stung bitterly beneath the cobwebs. He sat up with a yawn, glancing outside to see the sunlight had long since faded. Peppermask hadn’t come to get him, so it couldn’t yet be moonhigh. Part of him was tempted to remain in his nest, but Yellowfang had ordered him to return to her den by sunset for fresh bandages; he didn’t dare keep her any longer now that he was awake.

He stumbled to his paws, his head momentarily spinning as he did so. He would likely be feeling the effects of his fight with Tigerclaw for at least a half-moon, he reasoned, and so he would have to get used to moving slowly for the time being. With a gentle shake of his head, he made his way out of the den and into the camp clearing.

The ginger tom paused in the entrance as he heard loud murmuring all around him. He glanced around briefly, confused as to why his presence would have caused such a stir, but no cat seemed to be looking at him; instead, they were all staring at the empty Highrock.

Peppermask came out of the shadows near the den to stand by his side. “Fireheart. I was going to wake you at moonhigh, but…” She cast her eyes away, and he followed his friend’s gaze to where Lionheart and Whitestorm were sitting outside the nursery, discussing something with each other. “Bluestar is refusing to move. Whitestorm went in to tell her it was time to name a new deputy, and she sent him away!”

He bristled in shock as he glanced up to the sky above. The moon had well passed the highest point of its arc in the sky, and was now reaching towards the edges of the treeline. “But the code says-”

“I know. We all do.” The gray tabby shook her head in bewilderment. “No one knows what to do. Everyone’s listening to Whitestorm, at least for now, but he can’t succeed Bluestar if- if something else-”

She broke off with a shiver, and Fireheart quickly pressed comfortingly into her side. Even though they both had known that Tigerclaw was a code-breaker and killer, never would they have expected him to boldly allow a pack of bloodthirsty rogues into the heart of their camp so he could kill Bluestar. He couldn’t fault her for feeling the same loss of security that they all were. “Has this ever happened before? Perhaps there’s something in the code…” He trailed off, not sure what he was hoping for her to answer. Surely a deputy betraying their own leader was unprecedented.

They sat there in silence for a moment as she considered it. “Sometimes Starclan sends a sign for who the next deputy should be.” Peppermask mewed slowly, her eyes narrowed in heavy concentration. “It would be a healer that interprets their will, of course. If something were to happen to Bluestar with no deputy announced, then it’s possible Yellowfang or Dewpaw could appoint a deputy in her stead. Whether the Clan would accept that…”

He knew what she meant, even though neither said it aloud. Yellowfang was an outsider, a former Shadowclanner, and though no cat knew it besides him and Dewpaw she could no longer speak to Starclan. If she announced the new deputy - the new leader, if Bluestar died without a replacement - then there would be those that saw it as Shadowclan interference, even though he doubted it would mean a revolt. Meanwhile, Dewpaw was still only an apprentice, and while she had trained faithfully the elders would likely claim she was too young to be interpreting such an important sign, and their word held great weight within the Clan. 

He glanced at the healer’s den, wondering if either were inside, or if they were in the nursery trying to coax out Bluestar. He couldn’t see inside the dark rocky entrance to tell if any cats were moving within the den, and instead turned his gaze back to camp. He could see and hear cats all around camp discussing the same thing he and Peppermask were; the elders, in particular, looked nearly mutinous as they glared angrily at Lionheart and Whitestorm guarding the nursery entrance.

Even as they talked, no cat moved to try and challenge the two toms to access Bluestar. Every cat knew that she trusted the weight of Whitestorm’s word the most; if he hadn’t been able to get her to name a deputy, no cat could. As much as it pained Fireheart to sit by and watch, he knew there was nothing he could do but speculate. He didn’t control Bluestar; only Starclan could do that, now.

“What about Tigerclaw?” He asked at last, turning his attention to things he could control. “I know every cat did their best to teach the rogues a lesson, but if they come back now, while we’re still recovering…”

“Whitestorm already sent a patrol after him, a little while before sunset. He left across the Thunderpath with the rest of the rogues.” She curled her lip and looked away into the bramble wall surrounding camp, as though she could see all the way to the dark stone border. “We didn’t try to follow him beyond that.”

Though it troubled him to hear that they had so readily absorbed the traitor, he was glad to hear that they had at least departed the territory. Hopefully Tigerclaw wouldn’t return until they’d had a chance to strengthen their defenses. “I hope they stay gone.” He muttered as he surveyed the camp, taking stock of each cat. His eyes narrowed as he realized that one warrior in particular was missing. “I don’t see your brother.” He hissed quietly.

The molly’s green eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled at the mention of the gray tom. “I haven’t seen him since sunhigh. He told Tigerclaw he was going ‘hunting’.” They shared a glance, knowing full well what Graystripe had really meant by that. “I doubt he even knows that-”

There was a flurry of commotion by the nursery, and Peppermask cut herself off as the two of them turned to see Bluestar emerge from the well-defended brambles. The silver leader looked thin and gaunt, like a frail skeleton of a cat, as she shambled over to the Highrock. Around the clearing, cats slowly padded out to sit beneath its shadow, all eyes on their leader. There was no need to call them together, and she made no attempt to as she turned to face them.

Her eyes briefly swept over the crowd, but she seemed almost as though she was looking through everyone, like they were mere shadows in her path. “I will only say this once, so listen well.” Bluestar rasped, her voice barely audible even as a chilling hush had fallen over the clearing.

“I say these words before Starclan, so they may hear and approve of my choice.” Fireheart briefly glanced to the sky; though he could not see the stars through the foliage concealing camp, he knew that they were looking down on Thunderclan at that very moment. He looked back at Bluestar as she paused, wondering if he had missed her next words, but she was looking at her paws as though lost in thought. Had she forgotten who she was going to name?

The crowd began glancing uneasily at each other, the silence growing painfully tense as they waited for her to speak. Just as Whitestorm was stepping forward to stand by her side, she raised her head and he stilled.

“Fireheart will be the new deputy of Thunderclan.”

He blinked in confusion at the sound of his name. That couldn’t be right. He knew the code just as well as any warrior here; a warrior had to have at least one apprentice before becoming deputy. That automatically exempted him, as well as Willowbranch and her kits. “Bluestar, I-”

As he raised his head to meet the leader’s gaze, he realized that she was already gone, stumbling across camp with Whitestorm gently guiding her. He realized with a jolt that most of the cats were staring at him, and a great cacophony had started up while he was in his thoughts.

“Don’t lead her away!” It was Patchpelt snarling after Whitestorm, who didn’t seem to be listening to what was going on behind them. “Make her come back here and name a real deputy!”

“Fireheart is a real deputy!” Cinderspark snapped at the elder, her thick fur bristling angrily. “I’m sure he’ll do better than Tigerclaw!”

“But the code says that a deputy must have had at least one apprentice. Fireheart hasn’t mentored any cat before.” Willowbranch fretted, turning her eyes up to the sky. “And that a deputy must be named before moonhigh. Bluestar has broken the code today; Starclan will be angry with us now.”

“Willowbranch is right.” One-eye pointed out softly, even as her good eye turned on the ginger tom in question. “It doesn’t matter if Fireheart would do a fine job. In Starclan’s eyes, he is not deputy.”

“Would you drag her back out here?” Mistspring spoke up from beside her former apprentice, her voice raspy and straining from her injury only moons prior. “You all saw the state that she was in. She doesn’t have the strength to do a proper ceremony. Whether we like it or not, Fireheart’s the deputy we have right now. We can worry about what Starclan thinks later, when she’s recovered.”

“Starclan was supposed to give her the strength to recover when they brought her back to life!” Smallear yowled from the other side of the crowd. “How do we know that her condition isn’t a punishment for being late with the ceremony?”

Fireheart flinched as he felt a cat come up on his other side, looking to see that Lionheart had approached him. “Do you remember when you first came here?” The golden tabby asked him softly, only loud enough for him and Peppermask to hear.

He blinked, and suddenly it felt as though he was transported back to that early newleaf day. The crowd had hissed and jeered at him then, with Dustleap being the loudest of all. “Do you back down from a challenge?” He wasn’t sure if it was the memory speaking, or Lionheart beside him now.

“Everyone.” Fireheart stepped forward to stand where Bluestar had been, turning to face the angry crowd. They quieted instinctually as he stood there. He felt small and weak under their eyes, like he was once again a scrawny kittypet asking for their acceptance. He glanced at Lionheart, who seemed to be almost smiling as he watched. Had he been smiling that day as well?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves jittering in the pit of his stomach. “I know the warrior code just as well as each of you. I know I’m not the deputy that any of you wanted, or even that Starclan wanted.” He glanced down at his paws, his mouth suddenly feeling as though he had just licked the dirt beneath them. “I didn’t ask Bluestar for this, either. There are- Thunderclan deserves a much better deputy than me.”

He raised his gaze to look out at the crowd, several brimming with hostility as they glared at him. He tried not to let them get to him as he took another deep breath. “But fighting about what Starclan would want and what Bluestar should do is pointless. This fighting - this is what Tigerclaw wants us to do. He wants us to turn against each other, to turn our backs on the code just like he did. If he can’t lead this Clan, then he’ll do his best to tear it down.” He met each gaze in the crowd as he spoke. “Are we going to let him do that?”

Several heartbeats passed in silence, and he worried that for some, the answer might very well be yes. Then Cinderspark stepped forward, her long tail lashing as she raised her head high. “Fireheart’s right. We’re not gonna back down just because that foxheart thinks he’s better than us. We’re Thunderclan, the best Clan in the forest, and Tigerclaw can eat our dirt!” She yowled, loud enough that Starclan above could hear her words.

“Fireheart is a good cat.” He blinked in surprise as Dappleshine stepped forward next, her green eyes soft as she looked upon him. “He’s the one that saved Bluestar from Tigerclaw, after all. He knew more than many of us ever did, walking alongside that-” She paused, her lip curling as she considered many choice words for the exiled deputy, “adder-tongue for many moons. He may be young, but we should trust in his judgement, at least for now.”

“We’ve always trusted Bluestar before. That shouldn’t change now.” Rosetail pointed out from near the back. “We don’t know her reasoning for picking him as deputy. Perhaps she was waiting for Starclan to show her a sign, and they did. It’s not up to us to decide what Starclan’s will is or isn’t.”

Several elders grumbled beside her, but they didn’t seem interested in voicing their complaints. “Thank you. All of you.” He did his best to bow to them without pulling apart his bandages. “I - I will do my best to be worthy of your trust.”

“Now that that’s settled, deputy.” He blinked as he realized Whitestorm had come up beside him while the others had been speaking. “What would you like me to do now?”

He felt himself freezing up in fear at the thought of actually leading these cats. He had only been a warrior for two seasons! He tried to stay on his paws as he thought of what a deputy should do. “Dawn patrols.” He said slowly to himself. “Tigerclaw and his rogues escaped across the Shadowclan border, so we’ll want to guard that one well. Lionheart - you’ll be in charge of that patrol, along with-” He glanced out among the crowd, trying to find warriors he knew would fight Tigerclaw with all their fury. “Tinyfrost, Cinderspark, and Dappleshine.”

Lionheart nodded readily, sweeping his large golden tail towards the other three. “We’ll start along the Twolegplace border, then, since that’s where he was last scented.” The great warrior replied steadily. “Come then, all of you. Dawn isn’t that far away, and we’ll want to get some rest before going out.”

He watched the warriors depart, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself. He could do this. “That leaves the Riverclan border. Mousefur, why don’t you take Cherrypaw, along with Willowbranch and Mistspring?”

The dusky brown molly stared at him as though he’d asked her to grow wings. “Tigerclaw didn’t want us taking apprentices along the Riverclan border with their recent aggression.” She pointed out to him.

“That was because they’d just been apprenticed and had no battle training. It’s been a moon now - surely they’ve had enough practice to handle themselves in a small skirmish?” He asked in response, even as panic welled up within him. In truth, he’d forgotten about it. He hadn’t heard of anything from Riverclan during the last Gathering, aside from their typical posturing over land rights. “Besides, you should try to avoid a fight, anyways. Yellowfang’s herbs are stretched thin as it is. Not that you should let them get away with hunting on our land if it comes to that, but-”

“I understand.” He was grateful for her interruption as she laid her tail on Cherrypaw beside her. “Besides, it will do her good to see the other border. I’ve heard enough complaining about the Thunderpath and Monsters for a lifetime!”

There were a few chuckles as she nudged her apprentice off, the other two warriors following her. “Peppermask, I hope you don’t mind being on hunting duty again. Take Longtail and Cedarpaw with you; try to stay somewhere close to camp, just in case.” He glanced at Whitestorm, considering the tom, but he had been one of the first defenders during the rogue attack. He could see that while the white warrior had not been wounded as badly as him, there were still several long patches of cobweb that hid a surely painful wound beneath. “Whitestorm and I will guard the camp.” He finished with a nod. That would at least get them through to sunhigh, he hoped.

“What about us?” He blinked and turned his head to see Sandstorm limp forward, Dustleap and their apprentices behind her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten us?” She added with narrowed eyes.

The thought of Tigerclaw’s children briefly sent a bolt of panic striking at his heart, but he did his best to conceal it. “You both have an apprentice, don’t you? Surely you can take them to the training hollow and figure something out.” He snapped back at her, refraining from lashing his tail as he spoke. He didn’t need to get into a fight with her, not now.

She shrank back as though he’d attacked her. “Er… right. Yeah, we can do that.” He stared at her in shock as she turned away, her tail low. He glanced at Whitestorm beside him, who was only looking at his former apprentice in worry. “We’ll see you at sunhigh, then.”

He watched them begin to walk away, guilt suddenly filling his mind. He wasn’t sure what he’d said to provoke such a reaction, but as he thought about it, he wondered if perhaps his face had shown the anger he’d tried to hide. After all, Tinyfrost had always said he showed his emotions too easily. “Er, Sandstorm, Dustleap, wait!” He called, the two tabbies turning to meet his gaze. “Can you take Thornpaw as well? He was Tigerclaw’s apprentice, and until Bluestar can assign him a new mentor, perhaps he’d do best training with his siblings.”

The cream molly studied him warily, as though suspecting some sort of trick from the change in attitude. At last, she dipped her head. “Of course we can.” She replied flatly, but he could see her head lift a little higher as she turned back to her den.

Now that the camp was devoid of warriors, everyone departing back to their dens, he heaved a sigh of relief. “You did well.” He looked up to Whitestorm, still standing next to him. “The Clan is skittish, like a frightened rabbit staring into a coyote’s gaze. They will find it difficult to trust, after everything that has happened. Do not take it to heart; it would be the same for any cat in your position, Starclan-appointed or not.” 

“Thank you, Whitestorm.” From all the warriors in camp, it meant the most to hear it from him. “I feel like they can all see that I have no idea what I’m doing. Quickflash and Tigerclaw took to it so easily, and-”

“They also had many moons of experience raising kits and training apprentices that you don’t.” The mighty warrior pointed out evenly, his golden eyes seeming almost amused as he looked down on the new deputy. “Though I am sure the Clan will silently measure you to him, do not feel you have to follow Tigerclaw’s paws. After all,” He muttered darkly, casting a glance towards the tunnel entrance, “that is how we got into this mess in the first place.”

Fireheart tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” He asked curiously. Whitestorm, having been apprenticed alongside Tigerclaw, was perhaps the only remaining cat that knew him best. Had he reason to suspect the exiled deputy’s motive?

His heart sank as Whitestorm shook his head. “Nevermind that. I hope you don’t mind if I continue to guard the nursery? My aunt…” The great warrior looked away with a sigh. “You saw how she is.”

“She will recover. If not thanks to Starclan, then thanks to Yellowfang.” Fireheart replied gently, doing his best to comfort the older warrior. For a moment, Whitestorm seemed weak and vulnerable, rather than the mighty and wise warrior he had always known. “But of course you can guard her, at least until your wounds heal. If you can, ask Frostfur and Goldenflower to rotate with you. If you trust them, of course.”

Whitestorm nodded once at his last words. “Frostfur may be vicious at times, but she has a good heart. I’m told you’ve seen that yourself.” Fireheart glanced up at the larger tom, trying to read what he meant, but he’d already looked away towards the nursery. “As for Goldenflower, she wouldn’t hurt a flea - unless it was threatening the nursery, that is. I don’t envy Tigerclaw if he tries to find that out.” He glanced at the leader’s den behind him. “If it’s alright, I’ll have Speckleflight and Snowkit do their best to clean that out when dawn comes, so that Bluestar can return to it.”

He winced slightly as he realized the bloody trails out of it were still there, a painfully visible reminder of the treachery that had transpired earlier that day. “Of course. When Cherrypaw returns from patrol, have her help, too.” 

“I will.” With that, Whitestorm departed, gently padding across camp and nosing into the nursery to check on Bluestar. Upon making sure that the leader was resting, he took a seat in front of the entrance, eyes flicking around camp for any sign of movement.

Fireheart was just about to take a seat near the elders’ den when he saw another cat approach out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see it was Peppermask, having remained while every other cat had left. “If it’s alright, I’d like to join you on guard duty tonight.” She mewed softly to him, her green gaze indecipherable.

He hesitated to agree. “Shouldn’t you be resting for your hunting patrol?” Fireheart asked gently in return. He knew she wasn’t challenging his authority; she was the only one he would expect to support him, given everything that had happened. Still, it did feel strange that she wasn’t taking the opportunity to sleep before the patrol.

“I’m not tired.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked away from him briefly, before taking a seat next to him. “Besides, you’re injured. If Tigerclaw comes back tonight, you won’t exactly be able to take him on.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He glanced up at the sky, imagining for a brief moment the stars above. “Fine, then. We can sit guard together - at least until it’s time for your patrol.”

“That’s all I ask.” She purred, settling in next to him. He had to admit he didn’t mind the extra warmth in the chilly leafbare night - and, in any case, it would help to quell his anxieties to have an extra cat beside him tonight. Fireheart turned his gaze out onto the shadows, fur prickling as he remembered Tigerclaw’s dire warning. 

It would take a long time for him to feel comfortable in Thunderclan’s camp again.

[ask-naraenil]

A Garden of Winter - 17 Nov 23

There was an otherworldly aspect to the Dream that she had not experienced before.

Nara’enil did not have time to piece her thoughts together. Between the time her staff was burnt and slowly revived, the combined forces all over the Dragon Isles had gathered, and then collectively moved through the gate at the Ancient Bough. By the time she joined them, they had started to establish themselves under the very secret that was harboured within the Dream the entire time.

There was a lot to take in and process: how Amirdrassil came about, how long it was there, and the adversaries that all of the forces were now facing.

It took a while, but Nara’enil eventually found a quiet moment of respite, amidst the orders and briefings. While everything sank in, there was one significant aspect that stood out about their new home. It was under its immense roots: the same strange blue that threaded through its bark, visible across the entire region they were in. The same blue that faded the living beauty of the Dream into ethereal shades of twilight and indigo.

Nara’enil almost expected wisps to be present, but they weren’t. It felt as if they were woven into the very body of the World Tree itself. As if the large pond with its odd landscaped swirl, that was unlike any of the other intricate grassy patterns throughout the Dream, held its own secrets that only those who passed on knew of. In this garden of dusk under Amidrassil, this space of winter amidst the verdant summer of the Dream, she felt both safety as well as the notion that she did not belong. As if she was standing at a precipice, at the brink of a change in seasons, a step in the unending cycle of life and death. A cycle of balance.

She sank onto the azure grass by the edge of the water, next to the arrangement of druidic stones that decorated the circles of the pattern. Nara’enil could not help but feel the emptiness that she had tried her best to overcome over the millennia. It resurfaced every time someone she knew passed away, and gnawed at her chest like a hungry beast wanting to be fed.

It was quiet where she sat. All the activity fluttered above. Few druids came this way. Her staff, rejuvenated and no longer charred, was propped beside her. The smallest furls of leaves had started to sprout - a miracle wrought by “Elder Bearclaw”, a tauren from Hyjal who turned out to be an emerald dragon the whole time, and who told her that the staff was not of Azeroth, whatever that meant.

Amidst the encircled calm, the emptiness within her slowly faded into a familiar anaesthesia as she regarded the shimmering water. All she could think of were the faces that she once loved and still remembered. Were they part of the multitudes who gave up their existence for their new home and their people, or were they still on the other side, perhaps witnessing everything that was going on through their own similar patch of water and unusual swirls in the ground?

A memory came to her, random and unbidden, as she absently stared at the broken reflection of herself.

“I was Dreaming in the Barrow Dens north of Ashenvale when the satyrs attacked. All I knew was when I woke up, I was surrounded by the healers resuscitating me, with the branch already in my hand.”

It was another made-up story of the origin of Veldrinath’s staff. The very same she now carried. Nara’enil vaguely remembered the banter: how she joked that the healers gave it to him to hold as they expected him to violently lash out at them; how he laughed and retorted that he stole it from the Dream, or maybe beyond it.

The numbness turned to pain. Somewhere in her consciousness, she always knew that she missed him more than anyone else who passed on. Somehow, she hoped that she was sitting on a patch of water, earth and grass that was touched in some way by his soul, that maybe all of this could have been a way for her to see him again. Or hear him. Anything to know that he was still around.

But he was gone. He had been gone for almost a thousand years. Neither he, nor min’do Ilisana, nor so many other sisters and brothers whom Nara’enil lost over the years, would be coming back.

She had to move forward. She needed to move forward.

Like many times before, she brushed aside the unshed tears and steeled herself. After all, she would be dishonouring their deaths if she was to continue to mourn, and not live on for the sake of those who survived.

In the near distance, she heard her name being called. Fresh instructions were being issued, and she was needed elsewhere. Her staff touched the water lightly as she manoeuvred it to support her standing. Nara’enil reluctantly tore her lingering gaze from the pond, then turned and walked up the slope without looking back.

As she did so, a bud of dusky blue that matched the pallor of winter’s air began to sprout at the head of her staff.