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talonslockau · 6 months ago

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Forest of Secrets - Chapter 25

Chapter 24 || Index || Chapter 26

It was halfway to sunhigh when Peppermask and Fireheart finally padded into camp, heads held high as they carried their prey. They had done well in their early morning hunt - Peppermask had caught two squirrels drawn out by the sun’s warming rays, and Fireheart had managed to nab a surprisingly plump robin. The day was already looking to be a good one, and it had only just started.

“And just where have you two been?” He blinked out of his thoughts as he heard a familiar low rumble, glancing to see Tigerclaw storming towards them. The two ignored the deputy as they trotted across camp to deposit their prey, a move which only incensed him further. “I did not give you permission to go hunting!”

The ginger tom swiped his tongue around his mouth, licking the last bits of robin blood from his teeth. It was all he would get until sunhigh, and that was only if the hunting patrols brought back enough prey to feed all of the Clan. “Why do we need your permission to go hunting, Tigerclaw? It’s leafbare, and the Clan needs all the prey it can get. Or would you prefer us to return our catch back to where we found it?”

The tabby’s amber eyes widened in shock at his sudden laidback demeanor. Fireheart had always treated the deputy with respect, even if he hadn’t deserved it. The shift in attitude had clearly caught the murderer off guard. “You do when you’ve already been assigned to another patrol! Riverclan threatened us just last night for stealing prey, and we need every paw we can to make sure we’re ready for their inevitable retaliation.” He snarled in the young warrior’s unbothered face.

Once, such aggression would have made him cower, but knowing that it wouldn’t be long until the tabby was punished for his crimes made Fireheart more courageous than usual. “Peppermask and I couldn’t sleep, so we went hunting. I asked Tinyfrost to cover for me in case I couldn’t make it back in time. The Riverclan border is safe, and we have freshkill. Don’t get your tail in a twist over it.”

The deputy’s white-tipped tail lashed furiously at the comment. “And you think you can just decide-”

“Oh, hush, Tigerclaw.” Fireheart’s ears perked up as he heard another familiar voice, turning to see Whitestorm approach. “Fireheart did his duty, and more besides. There’s no reason to pick on him just because he wasn’t here for the assignment of patrols.” The senior warrior’s warm golden eyes turned to the ginger cat beside him. “Speaking of, you’ll be on the Twolegplace border patrol with Lionheart and myself after sunhigh. And Peppermask, you’ll be hunting with Tigerclaw and I for the rest of the morning.”

Peppermask dipped her head respectfully. “Of course, Whitestorm, I’m sorry we kept you waiting.”

The snowy tom shrugged slightly. “It seems like the prey must be running well with what you two brought back, so perhaps we’ll be able to make up for lost time if we leave now.”

“It took a while, but it seems the warmth of the sun has brought them out. I think the prey can feel that today will be a good thaw.” She glanced apologetically to Frieheart. “Sorry I can’t stay around to help you, but I hope you won’t mind being in camp alone.”

Tigerclaw’s eyes narrowed at her words. “Help him with what, exactly?”

Fireheart gave her a quick nod in understanding. They’d planned to tell Bluestar the truth together, but time was more important right now. If he had to tell her by himself, so be it. “Well, part of the reason I couldn’t sleep is because there’s a drip over our nests. Peppermask and I decided while hunting that we’d try and fix it together when we got back, but I’ll just have to try and do it myself.” He fibbed quickly, recalling the night not so long ago when they’d been awoken under those circumstances. Sandstorm had indeed kept her promise to fix it, but with how little Tigerclaw seemed to be around, he doubted that the deputy knew that.

The deputy’s lip curled disdainfully. “I don’t care about your little kittypet problems.” He snapped, swiftly turning away towards the entrance. “Come on, you two. We’re wasting daylight standing here.”

Peppermask gave her friend an apologetic glance over her shoulder as she and Whitestorm followed after the deputy. It was alright, though - Fireheart knew all too well that the tabby traitor wouldn’t have that attitude for much longer.

He quickly surveyed the camp to see who was still left. Willowbranch was guarding the prison, and Dappleshine was sitting near the nursery watching the camp. He could hear the squeals of Goldenflower’s litter playing inside, but aside from that, the camp was empty and still. It seemed the dawn patrols hadn’t yet returned, and the rest of camp was out hunting.

His heartbeat quickened as he padded towards Bluestar’s den. He would never get a better opportunity than this - no cat around to interrupt them or even overhear them. “Bluestar?” He called softly into the lichen strands that shaded her den. “Are you in?” She hadn’t been assigned to either of the dawn patrols, he knew, but there was always a chance she was out hunting with the rest of the camp.

“Fireheart?” He perked his ears as he heard her call his name in response. “Yes, of course, come in. What can I do for you?”

He took a deep breath to steel himself before walking through the moss curtain. This was it - the big moment he’d been waiting for. “I… I have something to tell you.” He mewed slowly, trying not to rush over his words in his nervous excitement. “Tigerclaw - he isn’t the cat you think he is.”

The silver leader was lying in her mossy nest, her coat freshly groomed. At his words, her head tilted slightly. “What do you mean, Fireheart? Tigerclaw is a good deputy. Starclan themselves chose him to lead Thunderclan when I’m gone.”

Part of him wanted to dispute her words, but he knew from Yellowfang that was a pointless task. “I can’t speak to what Starclan believes,�� He began steadily, “but I do know that Tigerclaw broke the code to try and become deputy, and I have reason to believe he’ll do it again to become leader.”

Her icy gaze narrowed further. “Speak plainly, Fireheart. What do you think Tigerclaw has done?”

He closed his eyes and took another breath to steady himself, his heart beginning to race faster and faster. This was it - what they had all been working towards for so many moons. “Tigerclaw killed Redtail.”

Silence stretched for what felt like an eternity within the leader’s den. After several painful heartbeats, he dared open his eyes to see Bluestar’s spine bristling and ears lowered - but not flattened and blocking him out. “That is a serious accusation.” She finally warbled. “How could you know this? You were not there - you were not even a part of Thunderclan then.”

Fireheart dipped his head respectfully. “I know it is. And I would not come to you unless I had proof to back up my words.” He glanced skyward, though only the stone wall of the cave greeted him. “I speak on behalf of a cat who was there - who cannot speak for himself any longer.”

“Ravenspirit.” He nodded as his leader breathed the name aloud. “Very well. I will hear you out, but know that what you are accusing Tigerclaw of has very serious implications for all the cats involved - Ravenspirit included. Do not besmirch his name for a flight of fancy.”

“I would never.” His mind was racing, trying to figure out where to start. At last, he looked up into Bluestar’s eyes. “Do you remember what Tigerclaw said happened at the battle of Sunningrocks?”

She looked suspicious, but slowly nodded. “I do. Oakheart had his warriors pin ours down… and then killed Redtail in cold blood.” Pain flashed across her gaze at the thought of her deputy, lost so tragically and senselessly.

“Did that not seem strange to you at the time?” He questioned softly. “I never knew him, but every cat I’ve met spoke of Oakheart with great respect, as a noble warrior and deserving deputy of Riverclan. And it would take more than a couple of warriors to pin down Tigerclaw alone.”

The leader didn’t respond to his question, seemingly lost in thought. After giving her a moment, he slowly continued. “Not to mention that the patrol that day was only supposed to watch the border around Sunningrocks, as Riverclan had been scented trespassing in the forest. They did not have enough cats to fight a battle for Sunningrocks. Am I wrong?”

He paused, and after a long moment Bluestar sighed wearily. “... No. You’re not.” She mewed at last, looking back up into his gaze. “You clearly know what you’re speaking of. Did Ravenspirit tell you all this, before he died?”

“He did.” Part of him was tempted to confide in her that the young black tom still lived, but there was no point in that - not now, anyways. “He told me that that day, they found Oakheart leading a hunting patrol on our territory. Redtail wanted to get reinforcements, but Tigerclaw insisted on defending our territory. They attacked, and drove the Riverclan patrol back to Sunningrocks.”

He took another deep breath before continuing. “Ravenspirit said that the fighting was thick, and that he didn’t see what happened next as he fought an apprentice and warrior off. The next thing he knew, Redtail came flying by, shouting that Oakheart was dead.”

Bluestar’s ear flicked impatiently, and he paused for her to speak. “Do you realize what you’re saying? That means that Redtail killed Oakheart.” She mewed, her tone laced with a familiar venom. “Redtail followed the code, always. He would never kill another warrior, not even in self-defense.”

“That’s what Ravenspirit thought, too.” He replied smoothly. “And why he never told you what happened before he died. He respected Redtail as much as any cat in the Clan, and he would never smear his name.”

Her whiskers twitched in irritation. “And you would?”

“If I knew it to be the truth.” Fireheart mewed, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he spoke. “But I also trust Ravenspirit’s judgement. I knew that if he believed that Redtail would not kill Oakheart, there must be another explanation for what happened.” He glanced behind him at the moss curtain, but the light streaming through showed it was empty. “Last night, when I went to the Gathering, I spoke with Mistyskip and Graypool. I asked them the Riverclan perspective of what happened at Sunningrocks. I had hoped to find out if Ravenspirit was telling the truth, once and for all.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the Riverclanners, but she nodded nonetheless. “I see. And what did they tell you?”

“Oakheart was not killed by a cat.” Her eyes widened in surprise as he spoke, but he hurried on before she could interrupt. “The rains the night before had made some of the stones unstable. When he and Redtail were fighting, they accidentally hit one such stack of stones. Redtail was able to escape, but Oakheart was crushed beneath them.”

Bluestar’s gaze slowly traced across the floor of her den as he halted. “I see.” She mewed slowly, her voice sounding almost winded. “So Oakheart’s death… was a mere accident?”

“Indeed.” Fireheart answered, watching her whiskers twitch thoughtfully. “Mistyskip said that it was a tragic death, but that her father could ask for no better death than one in battle. She also said that any Riverclanner would tell you the same - even Crookedstar, in front of all the Clans, if it was necessary.”

More pain flashed through the leader’s eyes, even as her lip curled disdainfully. “I don’t care about whether Riverclan thinks his death was noble.” She snapped, her voice filled with an unnecessary venom that caught him off-guard. After a moment, she looked up, her eyes softening at his expression. “But if what you say is true, then…”

“Then at the very least, Tigerclaw lied to the Clan.” Fireheart finished for her firmly. “He claimed to kill Oakheart, but he didn’t. And not only that, but Redtail was still alive when Oakheart died.”

He saw the silver queen’s breathing catch for a heartbeat as he spoke. “That may be true.” She mewed at last, her voice slow and distant. “But how can you be sure it was Tigerclaw that killed Redtail, and not another Riverclanner? Ravenspirit…” She trailed off briefly, slowly shaking her head. “Tigerclaw was often harsh on his son, hoping it would strengthen him into a mighty warrior. I did not agree with it, but it was not my place to meddle. Regardless, it likely bred resentment against his father. I know you trusted his judgement, but it’s not impossible that he invented a fanciful story to incriminate his father in response to the pressure he was under.”

Fireheart dipped his head respectfully. This was a question they had been expecting, and why they had waited so long to get proof once and for all that what Ravenspirit had witnessed was real. “I have proof that every word Ravenspirit spoke was true.” He mewed, raising his head high with certainty.

The leader flicked her tail for him to speak. “Before Oakheart’s death, Redtail attacked Stonestep - Oakheart’s son.” He told her, his muscles tense as he recalled what they had just learned. “Oakheart pulled Redtail off of Stonestep, and Ravenspirit very clearly heard him tell Redtail, ‘You of all cats should know better than to attack that warrior.’ Ravenspirit didn’t know what he meant, and neither did Stonestep or Mistyskip - his own children.”

Fireheart’s voice was hushed as he spoke, not wanting it to echo outside of the cave. These words were for Bluestar only to hear - a trusted secret that he would not dare share anywhere else. She sat as still as stone as he spoke, and he only assumed she wanted him to continue.

“That is why I talked to Graypool, who raised his children. She told me that Stonestep, Mistyskip, and Mosspatch were not her real kits - but that their mother was a Thunderclanner. They never knew - and still don’t - but Oakheart did, and evidently so did Redtail.” And so do you, he wanted to add - he had no doubt she had witnessed their mother’s exile. Still, that wasn’t important right now. “Don’t you see? Those Thunderclan kits were given to Oakheart long ago, season-cycles before Ravenspirit or I were born. How would he make up something he never knew? How would I make up something I never knew?”

For several long moments they sat in silence, the Thunderclan leader not moving. For a moment, he wondered if she was even breathing at all, but then she glared up at him and gave him a mighty hiss. “And you believed this nonsense?” She spat furiously at him.

The sudden anger caught him off-guard once more. “What? But I-”

“This isn’t what I expected from you, Fireheart.” She snarled, standing in her nest and unsheathing her claws. He backed up, suddenly afraid she was about to attack him. “Listening to a Riverclan elder’s gossip and treating it as truth? She was clearly playing off your fears - tricking you, deceiving you into believing this pack of falsehoods.” Her tail lashed behind her, beginning to bristle as she advanced on the bewildered young warrior. “Focus on your duties instead of bothering me with such tall tales and nonsense. I don’t want you to ever bother me about this again. Do you understand?”

He stared at her in shock. Not moments ago, she had been so receptive to what he was saying. Why had she suddenly changed her mind? “I-”

“Go!” He turned tail and rushed out of the den at her simple command, his mind full of confusion. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew one thing - that from now on, Bluestar would never hear another word against Tigerclaw’s treachery. He had failed.

#talonslock #the prophecies begin #warrior cats #fanfic #thunderclan #talonslock story #forest of secrets #fireheart #peppermask #tigerclaw #whitestorm #bluestar

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twilights-800-cats · 1 year ago

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Chapter 2

The entire Gathering sat in stunned silence.

Mudstar’s words hung in the air, thick and oppressive and sharp as claws. Even the leafbare cold didn’t seem so harsh and biting as Mudstar’s accusatory gaze, which swept and burned across the cats gathered below the Great Oak's heavy boughs like a wildfire.

Shadepool felt frozen to the earth. He thinks ThunderClan cats killed Onewhisker?

“Are you mad?” hissed Tinystar, finally breaking the silence. His spine was bent, his black fur bristling to its ends. His voice was cracking from incredulity: “Onewhisker was my dear friend and a friend to all of ThunderClan – what in StarClan’s name makes you think I or any cat here would believe for an instant that any ThunderClan cat had a paw in his death?!”

Tail twitching hesitantly, Russetstar mewed, “I have to agree with Tinystar. ThunderClan and WindClan have been close for seasons - what would there be to gain by killing Onewhisker?”

Mudstar curled his lip. “Then you can all tell me how ThunderClan scent was sprayed onto the earth where Onewhisker’s body was found, as if he were just some territory marker!”

“Is this true?” Tinystar demanded. He looked out at the crowd, to the WindClan cats, imploring them to speak.

“It is,” Crowflight answered. He got to his paws, looking up at Tinystar from his place beside Tawnypelt and Blackfoot at the foot of the Great Oak. Though Shadepool was sure he was nervous, he looked steady on his paws. “I scented it myself.”

“This is nonsense! Utter fox-dung!” snarled Dustpelt. The dark tabby tom drew forward, the fur between his shoulders bristling. “What makes more sense to me is that Mudstar killed Onewhisker, and he’s trying to shove the blame onto us!”

“Yeah!” snapped Sorreltail. Her white fur gleamed in the moonlight, and she stood beside her Clanmate. “We wanted Onewhisker to be the leader of WindClan! That's what we fought for! Why in StarClan's name would we kill him?!”

“ThunderClan cats aren’t murderers!” Sootfur added, standing up with his sister, his tail fluffed out.

The cats in the crowd began to shift and murmur. The WindClan cats drew sharply away from the ThunderClan warriors. At the same time, ShadowClan and RiverClan looked uncertain, unsure of where they should stand, ultimately deciding to shuffle apart until WindClan and ThunderClan faced one another in an open space, like two battle parties about to meet.

Shadepool trembled from where she sat beside the medicine cats. She felt Mothwing stiffen beside her.

“Fish-brains!” the RiverClan medicine cat hissed under her breath. “Are they really going to start a fight? Here and now?”

A WindClan warrior snapped their jaws at a ThunderClan cat - Shadepool couldn't see who was who - while another threatened with unsheathed claws and harsh words. Dustpelt arched his back and spat at Webfoot, and the two circled, looking to come to blows. Sorreltail and Sootfur flanked them, glaring at WindClan warriors across the snow-dusted way.

Shadepool’s heart couldn’t plummet any lower – it seemed like no matter how illogical it seemed, WindClan did believe that ThunderClan had done this horrible thing, and worse, they were willing to fight for it at a Gathering!

She looked up at the sky. No clouds – not a one! Was even StarClan on WindClan’s side?

A horrible, jagged lump formed in Shadepool’s throat.

Could that mean that it’s true?

“Everyone, stay calm!” Leopardstar snapped over the crowd. She leaned forward on her branch as if threatening to come down and break up the bedlam herself. “There is to be no blood shed at a Gathering! Have you all forgotten?”

“Dustpelt, behave!” Tinystar snarled.

“But-!” Dustpelt started to protest, but the intense look in Tinystar’s eye made his spine unbend. The brown tabby shot Webfoot a nasty glare before backing down, but Shadepool noted that his claws were still unsheathed, ready to fight, and the gleam of hostility hadn't left Sorreltail or Sootfur's eyes.

Tinystar turned to face the WindClan leader. “Mudstar, these accusations are ridiculous,” he declared, his voice firm. “No warrior of ThunderClan is a murderer, and I would never order my warriors to do such a heinous, cowardly thing!”

“Do you doubt my warriors?” Mudstar growled, his tone low and dangerous. His tail lashed. “They know what they smelled, what they saw. As do I.”

Tinystar’s ears flattened. “I’m not doubting them, or you, either – Onewhisker’s death was some kind of foul play, but to accuse my Clan of it because you don't have an answer is just-”

“So, then, who do you blame?” Mudstar demanded, cutting off the ThunderClan leader.

Tinystar narrowed his eyes to two slits of ice-white fire. “I’m looking at a rather likely candidate right now!” he hissed virulently. “After all, you started a civil war within your own Clan to seize power!”

The cats of WindClan began to yowl and protest below, loud and vehement at Tinystar's accusation. Mudstar’s claws gleamed against the Great Oak’s dark bark. With a voice like a crack of thunder, the WindClan leader howled, “I am no murderer!”

“You seemed very willing to become one!” screeched Tinystar. His tail was bristling to its tip. “I wasn’t the only cat that saw you before the cedar tree fell! You would have killed Onewhisker for power had Ashfoot not taken the blow of that tree; don’t you dare deny it!”

“Tinystar, Mudstar, please-” Russetstar tried to shimmy herself closer to the other two leaders, her eyes flashing with concern.

“Don't you dare bring Ashfoot into this!” Mudstar was bristling, his eyes gleaming menacingly. Shadepool saw him trembling, and a thin trickle of blood was running down his leg from a reopened wound. “I was fighting for what was best for WindClan, just as I am now – ThunderClan killed Onewhisker, and we will not rest until we find the cat responsible!”

He took a shaky step towards Tinystar. “If you do not give up Onewhisker’s killer, then all of ThunderClan will suffer!”

“Mudstar, stop this nonsense!” hissed Brackenfur. Shadepool felt her mentor trembling beside her, his voice tremulous as he fought to be heard: “Is another war really what you want?”

“I want justice for WindClan,” Mudstar growled, not bothering to look Brackenfur’s way. “That’s all I have ever wanted.”

“Justice!” howled Webfoot.

“Justice! Justice!” the other WindClan cats echoed.

Shadepool looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with Ryewhisper. She silently urged him to say something, anything that might soothe Mudstar’s and his Clanmate's tempers – but the young tom’s gaze was stern and solemn, even somewhat apologetic, as his eyes flashed to her for a brief moment.

Did he believe it, too?

The entire Gathering was buzzing now, with ThunderClan’s warriors on their paws, ready to face off against the bristling, chanting WindClan cats, StarClan's will be tossed into the raging storm like everything else. RiverClan and ShadowClan huddled at the outskirts, whispering to one another in hushed tones, eyes wide and worried and worse, some bright with curiosity.

“Who could’ve seen this coming?” hissed a RiverClan cat.

“WindClan and ThunderClan have been close for so many seasons,” muttered a nearby ShadowClan queen. “Is it finally over?”

Shadepool felt a flash of frustration. This would be the source of ShadowClan and RiverClan gossip for moons, true or not!

“Look at Tinystar!” mewed a RiverClan tom. Shadepool recognized Leafwhisker. “He looks like he’s going to rip Mudstar’s face off!”

“He wouldn’t dare!”

“Well, you know that temper of his... and he’s a ThunderClan cat!” Leafwhisker complained. “They think they can get away with anything...”

“Maybe they did do it...”

Shadepool wanted to claw that cat’s face off herself. She got to her paws, determined to say or do something – but suddenly, the clearing plunged into utter darkness, and all the gossip and chatter ceased immediately. The scent of fear grew doubly strong, almost making Shadepool gag with its intensity.

She looked up. A thin wisp of cloud had come from nowhere and covered the moon, casting a shadowy pall over the clearing. The shroud lasted for no longer than a few heartbeats, but that was more than enough to make Leopardstar yowl for a quick end to the Gathering.

“StarClan has had enough, and so have we all!” she snapped, her voice thin from all the yelling and arguing. She glared at Tinystar and Mudstar, not so subtly blaming them for the sudden end to the Gathering. “Let’s go home. All of us.”

Mudstar curled his lip as moonlight returned to the world. It didn’t seem like he was done, for he growled, “Until ThunderClan gives up Onewhisker’s killer, WindClan’s borders are closed – to ThunderClan and to any Clan that supports them.”

That sent the Clans twittering and murmuring all over again. Mudstar ignored it all and leaped down from the Great Oak as best as he could with his reopened injury. His warriors surrounded him like a barrier of thorns, hissing and spitting at any cat that dared come too close.

Heart throbbing in her ears, Shadepool tried desperately to catch Crowflight’s eye, but he was in the thick of the crowd, shoulder-to-shoulder with Mudstar. Shadepool’s stomach roiled. All her hopes and dreams seemed to be falling out from beneath her now, and the world seemed to have flipped on its head. Her stomach roiled with nausea and anxiety, and she wasn't sure how much of it was her's or how much was Nightfrost's.

“Ryewhisper, please, Mudstar can’t just close his borders!” Mothwing entreated, her eyes pale and begging. “That’s bad for all the Clans! You have to talk to him!”

“I have to go,” was all Ryewhisper managed to mutter, before he quickly trotted away to join his Clanmates.

Littlecloud got to his paws. “Ryewhisper!” he called, frustration in his mew.

It was useless. Shadepool watched Ryewhisper join his Clanmates at the cedar tree-bridge, and they left the island as one, a Clan all alone and all against the world.

Shadepool looked for Brackenfur, wanting something – some solace, some comfort – but found that her mentor was limping away toward the Great Oak, his muzzle down. Scrambling to her paws, Shadepool followed, catching up quickly despite her legs feeling as wobbly as a newborn’s.

Tinystar was down from the Great Oak, now faced with Leopardstar and Russetstar. Beyond them, Tawnypelt and Blackfoot were gathering their respective Clans together while Dustpelt was hollering for ThunderClan's warriors to rally to him. Brackenfur sidled up to Tinystar, and Shadepool did the same.

“... this is your problem,” Leopardstar was growling. “Handle it.”

“Helpful,” Tinystar grunted. His icy eyes were harsh, and his expression hard to read, even for Shadepool.

Leopardstar lashed her tail and stalked away to join Tawnypelt and her Clan. As they left, Shadepool felt a flash of frustration – was Leopardstar not going to offer any help or support? Did she believe Mudstar’s declarations?

“I don’t know if a single word of what Mudstar said was true,” Russetstar meowed, her tone more pragmatic, “but now that the accusation is in the air, you need to be careful.”

Tinystar lashed his tail. “We didn’t-”

Russetstar cut him off, raising a paw: “I don’t care whether you did or not.” She said simply. “ThunderClan is in danger now.”

Tinystar sighed. “Have we your support, then?” he dared to ask.

Russetstar frowned. Shadepool saw her whiskers twitch. “We’ll see.”

It was all she said. The dark ginger she-cat stalked away, her tail-tip swishing in the slush. She nodded to Blackfoot, and ShadowClan took off, not far behind RiverClan.

Tinystar spat on the cold earth. “Helpful, the both of them!”

“We should get back to camp,” Brackenfur advised. “Lingering here overlong may upset StarClan, and the others must be told of what’s happened. There's much to prepare.”

Tinystar sighed again. Shadepool’s pelt prickled. She could tell that her father was not taking this well, but there was little she could do about it here. She wasn’t even sure how to take any of it herself – it felt like this night was some collective nightmare, and she had only heard the whisperings of it from where she had stood with the other medicine cats.

“Come on, then,” Tinystar mewed. “Let’s go.”

Shadepool searched for her brother in the crowd as they rejoined their Clanmates. Nightfrost was with Mousefur, and Shadepool could tell that he was deeply troubled about what had happened - the feeling prickled her pelt like scurrying shrew paws. Shadepool moved to join him but saw that Mistyfoot was headed their way out of the corner of her eye.

Shadepool pulled back. She watched Nightfrost turn to face Mistyfoot, who said something Shadepool couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter – Nightfrost's worry calmed, replaced by a warm feeling of comfort that spread through him and seemed to smother everything else.

To Shadepool, it felt like hot thorns piercing her skin.

She put herself beside Brackenfur and Tinystar. Without a deputy in ThunderClan, she supposed this was the best place for her.

“What are you going to do?” Dustpelt demanded, pushing forward between Tinystar and Brackenfur. “Mudstar’s accusations can’t be allowed to stand!”

“Yeah!” hissed Brightheart from behind him. “This is just ridiculous! Who does he think he is?”

“Is WindClan going to attack us?” worried Sun. Her tail swished uncertainly where she walked with Sorreltail. “Even after we helped them? After we've helped each other?”

Shadepool glanced at the ginger she-cat, feeling sorry for her. Sun had grown up in the Tribe of Rushing Water, a solitary group of cats that lived in the mountains between the old forest and the lake. Though she was a full warrior of ThunderClan now, it seemed like she was still grasping the complexities of the Clans and their relationships with one another.

“We are going home,” Tinystar declared, pitching his voice louder than theirs. He pulled his chin up, using his demeanor to tower above his Clan, as his short legs did him no favors there. “In silence.”

Reluctantly, ThunderClan quieted down. Tinystar nodded and led them over the tree-bridge. Shadepool kept an eye on Brackenfur, but her mentor seemed to handle it well despite how troublesome his leg was being this leafbare.

The group made their way through the reeds and marshes, heading up into the hills – only to draw to a sudden halt. Looking up, Shadepool’s stomach plummeted.

Along the line of hills was a patrol of WindClan warriors. Their bodies were lean and barely visible in the light of the coming dawn, but the winds sweeping down from their territory brought their scent down to the ThunderClan cats, strong and aggressive.

Crowflight... Shadepool breathed in his smell, a mix of longing and fear in her belly.

The dark tom drew close, his blue eyes hard to read, though Shadepool guessed he was exhausted from the night's events. He met Tinystar just beyond WindClan’s border with the neutral territory, his tail still as the reeds and his shoulders stiff.

“WindClan’s borders are closed to ThunderClan,” Crowflight declared, his tone firm. “You heard Mudstar.”

Tinystar opened his jaws, likely to snap – but he shut them and sighed. “I had at least thought he would let us take the short way home one last time,” he mewed resignedly. “Very well.”

He turned around, and with a twirl of his tail, the rest of ThunderClan obeyed, though they did not do so happily: Dustpelt spat at Crowflight’s paws, while Sootfur tore at a reed with his claws as if it were a WindClan warrior. Sorreltail glared at the line of WindClan cats, and Sun drew herself up to copy her. Brightheart and Snowstep protected Ferncloud with their bodies. Mistyfoot, Nightheart, and Mousefur turned away with little fuss, but there was an unbearable pain in Nightfrost’s eyes as he glanced back at Crowflight.

Shadepool was the last to move, begging for Crowflight to meet her eye. She wanted something from him, anything – this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go! They were going to meet in secret, in the ferns behind the Great Oak, and talk about their love and future...

At least, that was what Shadepool had imagined.

As if he could sense her feelings, Crowflight glanced at her. Shadepool felt a rush of love and confidence at the warmth of his gaze – he hadn’t forgotten!

Quietly, he mouthed, “River. Tomorrow night, moonhigh.”

Shadepool gave the smallest of nods. Crowflight hared off, tail up high, a signal of victory to his Clanmates. Shadepool guessed from the look of them that they were disappointed that they didn’t get to tear any ThunderClan fur, but she didn’t care.

At least there was something hopeful to look forward to.

#tb au #tb twilight #warrior cats #last chapter going in the tag :P

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sliverpelt-cats · 2 years ago

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Journey of Oak and Red || Chapter 1 || Warriors AU

AU Prompt: Oakheart and Redtail survive the Battle for Sunningrocks, and leave the forest territories for a life out of Tigerclaw's threats.

Characters: Oakheart, Redtail, Tigerclaw, Dustpaw(pelt), Stonefur and Mistyfoot (not mentioned by name)

Warning: Loose description of battle,

Author's Note: I have planned out the clans Oakheart and Redtail will meet, so you'll start meeting one of them next chapter!! (and somewhat this chapter)

Timeframe: The two chapters of Into The Wild after Redtail's body is returned to camp (which doesn't happen in this AU), as this chapter is over the span of a moon since the battle.

°°°

"After Sunningrocks, you leave. You get a quarter moon before I start hunting you down." Tigerclaw hissed. "If you ever come back, I'll kill you."

The brown tabby's words flooded his mind, as Redtail crouched in the riverbank. He could see the pine forest from where he was, displaying the other side of ThunderClan's territory.

A few fox-lengths away, a twoleg nest stood towering. Perhaps he could just live there. No cat would be the wiser, nor would Tigerclaw ever consider Redtail becoming a kittypet.

Coughing caught the tortoiseshell tom's attention, and he crawled closer. "Oakheart," he called quietly.

"What in StarClan's name-" The soaking, brown tom rasped as he sat up and looked around. "Where are we?"

Redtail stood, his ears twitching. "Far enough; for now. Let's get going before any cat sees us, or a twoleg grabs us."

"Where?" Oakheart jumped up to follow, looking over his shoulder. "Redtail, the clans are that way."

"I know."

"And we're walking towards the old twoleg barn."

"I know that."

"So we're walking away from the clans."

"I know that too."

Oakheart stopped with a huff. "Redtail. Where are you going? If you're leaving ThunderClan, I won't stop you or tell any cat."

"You're coming with me, so you definitely won't."

"You're going to kidnap me?"

"No-" Redtail groaned, turning around to face Oakheart. "You ask a lot of questions for a grown cat. We're leaving the forest. Tigerclaw wants to be deputy, and he'll stop at nothing."

"So, you're just going to let him be deputy? And what's this got to do with me?"

Redtail frowned. He had a point. None of this really had to do with Oakheart at all. The deal was only meant for Redtail to leave, not any other cat. But he was here now, and his clan has probably assumed him dead by now. "If he's willing to threaten his own deputy, I wouldn't put it past him to threaten another clan's deputy."

"I have kits back in RiverClan, I can't just leave them." Oakheart reasoned, running to catch up as Redtail started to walk away again. "They're my kits."

"I didn't peg you to be a father to young kits."

"I'm not," Oakheart corrected. "They're warriors, and at the battle for Sunningrocks."

Redtail looked over his shoulder. "Well then, they will be fine and they will already assume you've drowned."

"If Tigerclaw is a threat to you, then isn't he a threat to Bluestar?"

No response.

Muttering under his breath, Oakheart followed the tortoiseshell tom along the beaten path. His hackles rose as a black and white tom.emergwd from the barn. "Who are you?"

"This is Barley," Redtail answered, turning back to the barn cat. "Hey, Barney. What brings you out so early?"

"I heard voices and decided I'd come see who it is. I knew I recognised your voice, Redtail." The tom purred, before gesturing a nod at Oakheart. "Who's this you've brought with you? He doesn't smell like any ThunderClan cat I've seen around here. Or a WindClan cat for that matter."

The tortoiseshell threw a nod over his shoulder, "that's Oakheart. He is- was RiverClan's deputy." He lifted his head, his chest puffing slightly. Maybe if he acted tough with Barley, Oakheart would trust his plan to runaway. "We were just leaving."

"Where you goin'?"

He gulped. If Tigerclaw heard from Barley that he'd left, Redtail wouldn't be hunted. On the other paw, if Barley told Bluestar, she'd look for him herself. Or send someone who could. "We don't know, but you can't tell anyone you saw us."

"Why?"

"Tigerclaw threatened to kill Redtail for deputy, and he might come after me," Oakheart explained, earning a glare from Redtail.

I should've left him to drown. The tom shook his head and turned back to Barley. "No cat can know. Not even WindClan, or Bluestar."

"If he's a threat to you, then wouldn't he be a threat to Bluestar?" Barley frowned, the plump tom sitting in the leaves at his paws.

Oakheart piped in, "that's what I said."

"StarClan wouldn't allow it. They hadn't done anything to prevent Tigerclaw from threatening me, so it's a sign that I have to leave."

Redtail didn't hear another word for Oakheart as they said their goodbye to Barley and headed further from the forest territories. It wasn't until dawn the next day that Oakheart would say something. "Are you upset with me? That I took you from your clan?"

"Technically, you didn't take me. That would be catnapping. And no."

"Then, why have you been so quiet?" Redtail pushed, looking over his shoulder at the larger tom.

The brown tabby sighed. "I'm tired- exhausted, even. I'm sure Tigerclaw won't be looking for us this far from the forest. We're that far you can't even see it. You can barely see the mountains we crossed. We've probably been walking for half a moon, maybe a whole moon."

The tortoiseshell stared at him for a moment. "Yeah, sure. This old twoleg nest looks comfortable enough," Redtail hummed, looking through a hole in the wall of the old building. He listened for Twolegs, and when he heard nothing but a light breeze and mice scurrying across wood, Redtail crawled into the building and shook himself. "Nothing here but cobwebs and mice."

Oakheart purred in content, "a warm meal ready for us to catch. Lovely."

"Let's patch these wounds first," Redtail murmured, retrieving the few herbs he could find and bound them on or around his wounds. Once he was finished with his own, the tortoiseshell gestured for Oakheart to come towards him. "Spottedleaf taught me how to treat wounds in case we were too far from camp to get to her in time."

Oakheart chuckled, "smart."

"You know, I never had kits..." Redtail started, crouching as he stared at an oblivious mouse. "My apprentice was the closest I've ever had to a kit. Dustpaw, well, he was strong but stubborn."

Oakheart snorted, "sounds just like you."

"Oh, okay, mouse-brain."

The RiverClan tom laughed. "My kits are the strongest warriors RiverClan has ever seen."

"Probably because their father has such a big head."

"Ha ha. Very funny, Redtail." He stared off for a moment, watching the tortoiseshell catch mice around the nest. "They were the happiest kits, I swear on StarClan... probably got it from Bluestar."

Redtail frowned, dropping a couple of mice at Oakheart's paws before sitting to eat his share of the kill. "Why Bluestar? Are you related to her in some way?"

"My kits are hers." Oakheart whispered, deciding to silence himself to eat. His ear twitched in Redtail's direction, but the tom didn't say a word.

He couldn't say anything, he didn't know what to say. Bluestar's kits had gone missing or died right before Sunstar named her his deputy. They couldn't have- unless Bluestar took them to Oakheart. Mosskit was the only one of her litter ThunderClan recovered; the other two had never been found, and were presumed to have been eaten by the foxes found a day later.

"I'm going to sleep," Redtail murmured, tucking his nose under his paws. He could talk to Oakheart about it tomorrow. For now, he was as exhausted as Oakheart had said he was and Redtail knew he needed sleep. They both did.

°°°

Smelling the scent of unfamiliarity, Redtail dared to open his eyes and search the area he could see without moving his head. Pawsteps echoed through the old twoleg nest.

"What herbs do we need to get?"

"Panthereye said she needs borage leaves and burnet for Wheateyes." Another voice answered, and a speckled apprentice couched down near Oakheart's sleeping body to grasp at a bundle of green leaves with his mouth. He looked up at Oakheart, then stared at Redtail.

Another voice hissed, "why do we have to come though? Can't you get it yourself, Mousepaw?"

"You heard Brushstorm, it's too dangerous with the scent of rogues on LionClan's border." The first voice murmured.

"As if it's still safe to send two warrior apprentices with a doctor's apprentice. Mousepaw doesn't even know how to defend himself."

"That's why we're here, Newtpaw."

Mousepaw gulped, staring Redtail in the eyes. "Firepaw, Newtpaw...I think I found them."

"What, the herbs?" Newtpaw's voice hissed. "Finally, I'm hungry."

Firepaw's voice grumbled, "you're always hungry. Come on, Mousepaw. I don't like the feel I'm getting from this place. It's making my fur stand up."

"Not herbs - the rogues."

"What?" A ginger point apprentice-sized tom appeared from behind a large box. "Newtpaw-"

"Who are you?"

#warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats au #warrior cats fanfiction #redtail and oakheart live au

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troutfur · 2 years ago

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A concept for a more RiverClan-centric ASC rewrite

As I said I'd do once I finished Sky, here's my concept for a rewrite of the arc so far casting Frostpaw's siblings, Graypaw and Mistpaw as protagonist in place of Nightheart and Sunbeam. I think that the hectic political situation of ASC-era RiverClan is the perfect backdrop for having another go at the idea of an arc where the protagonists are all littermates. And that's not just my bias for sibling-centric stories showing through, this looks genuinely like a very interesting time to be growing up in, what with the power struggles and how the apprentices would be thrust into the thick of it from very early on.

River:

I want to set up a bait and switch for this one. I want the reader to be reminded of early chapters of the Sight, minus the whole fox-hunting adventure. Just the kids being impatient for their apprenticeship, enjoying their first few days out, getting to know the characters that are going to be the major players later on, etc. I still want to include an early half-moon meeting to introduce Frostpaw to the rest of the meddies and get the audience reacquainted with the group, though so there's got to be a chapter dedicated to that.

As we go through the first few 3-chapter cycles, we build up a dynamic between Frostpaw, Mistpaw, and Graypaw. I want there to be a sense though that Frostpaw is a particularly busy apprentice and while she's still keeping a close friendship with her littermates it's starting to become strained. The isolation from the clan at large of the meddies is something I want to build up.

At about the halfway point, when we've got the audience primed to expect a book full of just faffing about and slice-of-life shenanigans, taking up about the first moon of FMG's apprenticeship, bang! Mistystar drops dead. Reedwhisker is found dead. Mothwing is left as the only person in the Clan with some semblance of authority. From this point on we only get Frostpaw as PoV. Graypaw and Mistpaw disappear off the story until we get to the final scene.

For the most part, Mothwing manages to keep the situation under control. StarClan is taking a while to talk to Frostpaw, but she reassures her that she just has to be persistent. For the most part the biggest problem in the Clan is that warriors are getting impatient about getting the answer of who should be leader. As RiverClan shows up to two further gatherings without a leader, the other clans begin to raise eyebrows.

Once Frostpaw finally gets an answer, it proceeds like canon. We end the book with the same scene of Frostpaw curled up in her nest afraid and traumatized. The littermates cuddle together in support as they contemplate their new life as orphans.

Sky:

At the opening of this book, Frostpaw is still cooped up in the medicine den. Mistpaw and Graypaw acknowledge that having witnessed their mother's horrific death directly she's much more affected by this all. Our PoV rotation is just between Graypaw and Mistpaw this to start and we use this time to establish the state of the Clan since Curlfeather's death as well as the two littermates' place within the social web, and particularly in relation to their mentors, is.

Since Curlfeather's death, trust in Mothwing's leadership has deteriorated. Camp has fallen into disrepair, there are constant arguments about patrols, tasks are going undone, and the situation has just degenerated immensely in general. Against this backdrop cliques are forming around the most charismatic cats and we learn of them as we see Mistpaw and Graypaw navigate the emerging political landscape.

Tigerstar is beginning to nag other Clans due to their greencough situation and RiverClan is acting suspicious. Their old excuses no longer fly and so over the next two gatherings they have to cover their ass with new lies. Thus they dig their hole deeper and deeper and nobody knows what to do as Frostpaw is still cooped up in the medicine den.

When she finally emerges we get a scene of her realizing her littermates are grown cats now and taking stock of how that means she too has grown up. At this point we resume three protagonist rotation. The plot proceeds, she goes to the moonpool, gets vague and unhelpful advice, decides Owlnose is just who they need, etc.

The gathering where Owlnose makes the whole web of lies collapse is now a regular gathering and the sixth since the littermates were apprenticed. From here the plot proceeds as normal but on account of having Graypaw and Mistpaw be more acquainted with the social dynamics of the Clan we get a better idea of who the potential leaders are and how everyone would feel about the takeover.

#warrior cats #wc #warrior cats au #asc spoilers #sky spoilers #frostpaw #graypaw #mistpaw

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maplevein · 3 years ago

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Out of the new protags I feel like Flamepaw and Frostpaw have the more interesting personalities so far.

Flamepaw’s relationship with his kin, and more specifically his mom Sparkpelt, is something I’m really really excited to see Warriors tackle. I can’t help but notice too, how he actually acknowledges Baypaw as his foster sibling. So we can already eliminate Myrtlepaw as a possible love interest since I would hope they wouldn’t make it so he ends up with someone he’s already kinda indirectly called a sibling. So... part of me thinks he might end up with a mate in another clan. Given the code changes coming up, its entirely possible. The prologue kinda does give us a forbidden couple to follow through the series already, but I wouldn’t put it past the team to also want one of the protags involved. I don’t think any cross-clan relationship would top BristleRoot for me, I think I’ve had my fill of those for a while after those two BUT WE’LL SEE! Overall I’m really interested in him as a character, especially because it feels like there’s a lot of potential to explore and dive into the relationships within cats of the same clan with him.

Frostpaw hits the ground running with her chapter. Not only is she described as “white and brown” for some reason, but as the first Riverclan protag literally any insight into Riverclan is appreciated. It’s very clear her relationship with Starclan will be a huge part of her character, but tbh I’m more interested in what her relationship with Mothwing, Mistystar, and maybe even the other medicine cats will be. Mothwing carries a very no-nonsense kinda attitude, and she’s written as this sort of intimidating mentor to some degree. Completely understandable of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way! She’s definitely gonna clash with Frostpaw and her newfound self-importance and I cannot wait to see it.

Real interesting how Frostpaw seems eager to be important and Flamepaw feels odd having his kin be important, he’s uncomfortable having to live up to them. Complete parallels. I hope we’ll get some really interesting interactions from these two, but I’ve no clue how or why they’d need to yet.

#Warrior Cats #frostpaw #flamepaw #canon babes #vein talks #warriors asc #wc spoilers

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away-from-anthills · 3 years ago

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chapter eleven-

It became apparent to Antstar near immediately that Whitetooth and Marblepaw weren’t the only ones in the medicine den.

Next to Whitetooth lay Stripedwing. The gray molly seemed well, but even under the cloak of sleep her face looked troubled. Next to her were four small bundles of fur, one of which Marblepaw was tending to.

“What’s going on?” asked Antstar, his breath so low that he wondered if he was just thinking particularly loud.

“I believe I have told you in the past about the matter concerning Stripedwing’s family tree,” began Whitetooth. “For as far back as I or my late mentor can remember, the litters containing such ancestry are quite weak, and have difficulty surviving illness. You may recall that Rainleap and Stripedwing were born in a litter of four, yet only they survived their kithood.”

Antstar nodded, but worry began to dig under his skin like a short-tempered hare. These were Russetfoot’s children!

“They’ve all caught kitten-cough. It appears the other three in the litter- Runningkit, Rustkit, and Wheatkit- are safe and healthy, and Shadeflower is caring for them. But these four… these four, I worry about.”

Suddenly, Whitetooth and Marblepaw at once pricked their ears and pointed their long snouts towards the entrance, where a figure was standing. She was a calico tabby; half of her fur was an off-white color while her back and face were covered in splotches that were mottled orange and liver. She was a naturally rather demure thing, like a particularly thin workhorse, and her pale green eyes were cradled by thick, dark eyebags that had been tinged reddish from discharge.

It was Houndnose. One of the permanent queens.

“Are they alright?” she asked in a hoarse whisper, awkwardly walking forth to inspect. Whitetooth leaned toward her, causing her to back up into herself and arch over. “I cannot say they are. I and my apprentice are giving them all the care we can, but we do not know what will happen to them.”

Whitetooth was usually fairly tall, definitely within the upper half of WindClan’s heights. But their head only met Houndnose’s lower neck. She shot one last long glance at the kittens; her glance slowly lingered and met Antstar’s before she trotted away.

“Poor, feeble thing,” Whitetooth said, solemnly shaking their head. “All she wants in the world is to take care of kits and to be a mother. But every litter she’s had…”

Antstar didn’t need Whitetooth to finish the sentence. Houndnose’s first litter had been born two springs ago. But Dustkit was a stillbirth, and Privetkit and Newtkit slowly, agonizingly succumbed to illness. Her second litter the next year was healthier, but didn’t fare better in the long run, as a fox wound up getting them.

Antstar remembered how Shalestar had asked Houndnose if she truly wanted to continue being a queen after all that. But Houndnose was insistent: Queen life was worth all the heartbreak, all the pain; and her third litter would make it, whenever it would be.

“It must be horrible,” Whitetooth said softly, a true sympathy shining in their teal-green eyes. “Having to watch what happened to your own all over again- and not be able to do a single thing about it.”

They turned to inspect Stripedwing and her kits, and upon assuring themself that the molly and her kits were all in a deep slumber, they turned, in that sort of blank way they were so masterful at, to Antstar.

“I have heard about Stoatslink’s… suspicions, yes.”

“Well.” Antstar stepped back, a touch of incredulousness as he shifted his weight from one side to another. “What in StarClan do you suppose we do?”

Whitetooth squinted slightly before wheeling around to sort a stack of herbs near the back of the main chamber. “You are my leader, Antstar. I follow your command, not the other way around.”

Antstar opened his mouth to protest, but Whitetooth turned, their eye lidded with seriousness. “I do not kill my Clanmates, sir. I am simply the agent by which they join StarClan. If you truly think I’m going to kill Stoatslink on my own volition, you are sorely mistaken.”

Kill? Antstar had said nothing about killing. But in a strange sort of way, his mind was already headed there. And then he blurted out: “I don’t want to be the one to do it!”

“Quiet!” Whitetooth hissed, snapping at their leader. For a second, Antstar glimpsed their long white canines that had gifted them their name, and he was there in Sunningrocks all over again, when that flame-pointed ThunderClan tom had threatened him. Whitetooth’s mouth was very small and slight, and looked nearly invisible when it was shut. But inside- when they opened their mouth… it was nearly all teeth. Teeth that had never been dulled by the wear and tear of warriorship. Teeth that were long but with points so small that if they were to bite into something, nobody would notice but the victim, like hypodermic needles.

Antstar’s eyes darted over to the corner of the medicine den, where Marblepaw was curled up, eyes huge and glimmering with the shine of Whitetooth’s canines.

“You are going to wake her-“ -they gestured to Stripedwing, still asleep- “-if you continue, and the Clan will not understand us. And I know from hearing things that Clan cats have no trouble kicking out leaders if they decide they are no longer worthy. Why, it could be happening right now…”

“Right now?” said Antstar. “What do you mean?” “Not here in WindClan.” They tipped their head back cryptically. “I hear of things.”

“But what do we do?” asked Antstar. “What if- StarClan damn you for making me think of it, but- what if we were to kill him?” “Outside,” said Whitetooth, their tail still flicking towards the sleeping mother and her kits. “Now. Marblepaw-“ -they turned to address their apprentice, who was still hunched over from fear- “you watch Stripedwing and her kits.”

They were on the rim above camp now, the moon across the sky staring straight upon them.

“Well, now. What do we do?”

“Well, what does Stoatslink thinks he knows?”

Antstar tried to flicker back memories of all they had learned about the white tom. He was an analytical sort, yes. But he was stubborn, and seemed to fashion himself a genius. Bull-headed. An intelligent bull? Perhaps. But still one that would charge if he saw a red cape.

“He thinks a non-Clan cat killed Sparkthistle and threw her body in the gorge as cover.”

“Good, good.” Whitetooth’s voice slowly blended into a sort of hypnotic charm as it flowed through the air. “That’s exactly what we need. Here’s what I would propose.”

They stood back and tipped their head up and ears back, as if they were disposing of rotting crowfood, and spoke.

“We can make an example of Stoatslink. He is a family-oriented fellow, but has few friends because of his flaws. If he died-“

“What are you getting at? You think we can openly kill him to ‘make an example’? Are you mad?” Whitetooth looked offended, their nose slightly wrinkling with indignance. “Not openly, you shrew-headed fellow! And, personally, I was never saner than I am now. Listen. You know what happens, when Tatteredstar makes a faulty decision?”

Antstar nodded. Recently, there had been Rosefire. But he hadn’t been the only incident. He remembered that at his first Gathering as a warrior, she had announced that an ill-advised attack on a group of kittypets had killed her deputy. There was a sort of shock at it- he had quite liked seeing the fellow in question at Gatherings when he was an apprentice. And even before that, he remembered hearing from WindClan warriors returning from a Gathering- did you hear Tatteredstar didn’t let SkyClan get the herbs they needed, due to their prey dispute? And a bunch of SkyClan cats died because of it? I have no idea why ThunderClan adores her so much…

“Now. What else would happen shortly after?”

Antstar’s mind floundered at first, but as soon as he considered Tatteredstar’s other habits his mind latched onto something. “…They would attack RiverClan, and get Sunningrocks back.”

“Bravo.” Whitetooth drew back slowly, like he was leading Antstar with a carrot on a string. “A stroke of genius, on her part. In styling a common enemy for all her Clan to be directed towards, at once it removes the eyes from her and it unites the Clan together against this new obstacle. So even if the Clan is divided at her decision- they are swiftly united again by this distraction.” “So what you’re saying is-“

“I know the cats who live just beyond our territory. I would not say they are black of heart, but they are desperate. For food, for shelter… they shall do anything to get their claws on that sort of miscellany. I can arrange with them a deal- some of my medicinal herbs for them to kill Stoatslink, and then we shall throw him into the gorge. Solidify the belief he had in a killer outside the Clans- and then send a patrol to deal with the rogues that shall still be at the border.”

They turned away back into the medicine den, hearing Dewkit weakly cry as she began to stir.

“Think upon my words, Antstar, and consider it for now. If need be- I would consider it a necessary sacrifice to keep our Clan together for the oncoming of no-leaf.”

The last days of late summer slipped by, until autumn arrived in a hazy orange mist one day about a week or two later.

WindClan’s territory had always been at her prettiest in the mist- most of all when the sun still was able to shine through and cradle it with light. The sky above was mostly clear, but pale from its dawn youth. The trees, just slightly tinged with dappled shades of ginger, were practically painted gold by the sun’s light. The last morning stars slowly winked away just beyond the horizon, and the ground was so soaked with dew that WindClan cats nearly appeared to be RiverClan.

Antstar, however, had no time to admire newborn leaf-fall. He and Whitetooth, this morning, were on a mission at dawn. He had told Russetfoot he was helping Whitetooth find herbs, as it was important to do before the plants died out.

Russetfoot had accepted, numbly, his forest-green eyes staring mournfully at a small, freshly buried patch of earth that lay just beyond camp, where the last wildflowers of the season had begun to blossom. But Russetfoot had sighed and gone on with it, announcing names for the dawn patrol- mourning, in WindClan, was rarely ever a public affair.

Whitetooth always had a strange way of moving through the grass. It was almost like a swan: their top half remained still, except for the vague movements of the haunches and the flick of the tail; their legs, however, kicked away wildly beneath them. It was at once graceful and off-putting, as Whitetooth tended to be.

They went along, from the dewy grass to the slick, cold asphalt of the Thunderpath just beyond Mothermouth. They were traveling up it, parallel to the road. Antstar felt nervousness nip at his paws- ever since Rainleap’s death, which in truth had been only a season or so ago although to Antstar it had felt like eons, he had always had second thoughts about crossing roads.

And then Whitetooth stopped. They looked one way, then another, and then slunk across the road, Antstar in tow.

They stopped at a small, craggy cave, which resembled a much smaller version of the Moonstone’s cave- but with no tunnel, and no mystic monolith either. Inside, although it was dark, Antstar could see the silhouettes of a small group of rogues. They were all emaciated, and he tried to keep his distance- he could smell the fleas from here, and it appeared at least one of them had mange.

He heard a snarl and two cats caught his attention. One was a large ginger-and-white molly with patchy fur and scars webbing her shoulders, the other a much smaller, underfed little brown tom with a white underbelly.

“So you haven’t found any prey this morning?” asked the ginger-and-white molly, her voice thick with an accent that Antstar couldn’t place.

The smaller tom shook his head. He was visibly shaking, and his ribs were defined enough that Antstar could count nearly all of them.

“You know, Whimbrel, that this is the eighth straight morning-“ “I don’t want to go out to where the Clans are!” he squeaked, his voice hoarse.

“The Clans?” She scoffed. “You’re scared of the Clans?”

Whimbrel nodded. “I didn’t-“

At once the large patched molly leapt onto Whimbrel. He tried to flee, but there was little time before she was on top of him. She beat him around, as a kit would a moss-ball, and then thrust a thick yellow claw right into his eye. Whimbrel let out a wicked screech of pain.

“That’ll teach you,” she said, giving a crooked smile. Her teeth were cracked, and a few were missing altogether. “You’ve got more to worry about than the Clans, rag-pelt.”

Antstar winced. With no medicine, that eye was going to get infected- and it was already out of the question that Whimbrel would ever see in it again.

And then- speak of herbs- Whitetooth stepped forth, their chest puffed with confidence. “Sisters, brothers! May I see the leader of this fine group? I have a proposition I am willing to make.”

Antstar had no idea how much of Whitetooth’s words were laced with sarcasm, if any of them were. Yet some of the rogues seemed to know Whitetooth already, and acknowledged their presence with a nod. Antstar knew that medics were often entangled with connections to cats outside the Clans, and with each other; he didn’t want to press the matter further than that.

A large, muscly black cat came up to them. He had a sort of youthful swagger about him which was only further punctuated by mischievous yellow eyes and a white spot just above his left lip.

‘Name’s Captain.”

Captain? Fancy name, for a rogue, Antstar thought. He wouldn’t be surprised if this cat had once been a kittypet. Whitetooth nodded and bowed slightly in greeting.

“I and my companion here are willing to arrange a deal with you, provided you are capable of upholding our end of the bargain.”

The ginger-and-white molly from before trod up beside Captain, her hazel eyes clouded with suspicion. “They smell like Clan.”

“I am aware,” Captain whispered in her ear. “Hold on a moment.” He turned back to Antstar and Whitetooth, his gaze smooth. “What is it?” “I will give you enough herbs to last two moons, as well as a position on the edge of our land,” Whitetooth began. Antstar nodded along, not wanting to interfere- or get too close to the rogues, as he watched a yellow tabby tom pry a fat tick from his shoulder. “…So long as you get rid of this rogue that has been bothering us.”

“And you’re sure you’ll hold up this bargain?” asked Captain, leaning forward with interest.

“Certain.” Whitetooth turned to Antstar. “Are you sure you want me to continue?”

For a moment, Antstar’s mind faltered. He thought of Goldenpaw and Milkpaw, who loved their father dearly. Their final apprentice assessments were to be held that quarter-moon. If he continued now… they’d have no parents at their warrior ceremony.

But it had to be done.

By God, it had to be done.

He nodded.

As Whitetooth and Captain got into the specifics- he’s a white tom, rather muscular, face like a bull terrier, yellow eyes- Antstar felt his head swirl with excuses. No, he didn’t- wasn’t going to, rather- kill Stoatslink. It wasn’t his fault. These rogues were going to kill someone anyway, right? And someone had to die to unite the Clan. He hadn’t killed Stoatslink; he didn’t kill Sparkthistle. He spoke no lies- he was solely omitting what he had to in order to keep his Clan safe. And in the long run, turning WindClan on these rogues was the right thing to do, to train them, to compel them to fight and band them together.

His mind stopped. He was at no fault, he decided. This was going to happen any other way.

“We’ll get the job done,” assured Captain, giving Whitetooth a gaze that was almost playfully roguish. Antstar wasn’t entirely sure he trusted him. “Meeting, everyone! Meeting!”

The rogues in the den gathered around the black-furred tom, their gazes wary.

“We have a deal with these two generous Clan fellows. I am aware most Clan cats are heartless bastards,” he jested, “but these two have granted us both part of their territory and medicinal herbs.”

“That’ll be great for Whimbrel’s injury here!” half-heartedly said the patched ginger and white molly. Beside her, Whimbrel was trying to wipe the blood from his face, but the more his paw rubbed the uglier the wound became. He tried harder and harder to stop the bleeding, to soothe himself; but in the end he had made a mess of it, giving up entirely as the blood seeped through his fur.

“It will be,” said Captain, flinching with disgust at the rogue’s injury. “However, we must uphold our half of the bargain. They have asked we… deal with… a white rogue who lives on their territory, who goes by the name Stoat.”

“Oh, that bastard!” said an old, thin black molly with long fangs. “Heard of him! Could have sworn he was a Clan cat, though…”

“We follow what they say, Linsky, and we don’t ask questions.” He turned back to the other rogues. “Tonight, we’ll get rid of him, so we don’t worry about having to do it later. If we all gang up on him, we’ll outnumber him. We’ll set up two groups. Towser here-“ -he indicated the patched ginger and white molly- “-will lead the first group, I’ll lead the second- as we are the best fighters after all, especially in my case.”

A large silvery tabby molly in the group rolled her eyes.

“One group will chase, the other will ambush. He’ll stand no chance. Towser, you’ll have Peg and Scamp with you; you’ll chase him down. I’ll lead the ambush group, which will be myself of course, but also Linsky, Garlic, and Whimbrel. I’ll kill the cat, of course, as I have special experience and tact-“

“You don’t,” growled the silvery tabby.

“Peg, you must have forgotten my run in with the ShadowClan patrol a few moons ago. You see, there were five of them, and one-“

“Let us leave,” said Whitetooth. “They’ll take most of it from here. And I have a queen and kits I must care for, especially after poor Mousekit’s death the other day.”

The day seemed to take forever.

Antstar felt like he was going to vomit every time he caught sight of Goldenpaw and Milkpaw. Even though he had mostly trained himself now into accepting that Stoatslink’s sealed fate was fixed, and that he had no true hand in it, his gut disagreed with his brain.

What would be, would be.

He took solace in Whitetooth’s confidence, at least- if that’s what you could call it. Nothing about the pale-furred medic seemed to indicate any sense of wrongness, or even that something different was about to occur that night. Hell, ever since even before Sparkthistle had died, they had looked the same way; acted the same way.

Medics were close to StarClan- and if Whitetooth hadn’t been smote down by StarClan themselves the last time they had visited the Moonstone and trod upon StarClan’s own divine territory, Antstar had to be fine.

Goldenpaw and Milkpaw, meanwhile, seemed to be having a fairly average day. The wound Goldenpaw had received in the massive Sunningrocks battle had nearly healed, although it left a scar that twisted and snaked around her flank and leg like a tangled vine. It had been her first hunting patrol since, as Whitetooth had only released her from their care the other night. She was the only moor runner apprentice, now. Twigpaw had moved on to his tunneler training after he had gotten the basics of hunting and fighting, and Shadeflower’s litter had graduated. Antstar wondered if the small catch she brought- only a small, scrawny whinchat- had to do with the lack of recent training since the injury, or the fact she had no competition she could brag about her catch to.

Coalclaw had been on the hunting patrol also, his face seemingly-permanently twisted into what Antstar could only describe to himself as something between numbness and far-off horror. Rockscratch, who was the one who had dragged the dark gray tabby along, had hoped that a hunting patrol would lift Coalclaw’s spirit and “get him back into a fightin’ mood”, but Coalclaw seemed almost too dazed to catch prey, even missing out on a rather clumsy red grouse that his sister Spiderfoot caught without even having to think about it. At one moment, Coalclaw was able to catch a young hare that had been chased around to him by the other members in the patrol; but as soon as he was told to clamp down on its neck and kill it, he started to cry in an ugly, desperate way, and yet again Spiderfoot had to finish the job for him. It’s only a hare, his patrol members told him, it’s only a hare, they are living but they are our food and they live through us, but he could not stop crying and staring into the crimson of its blood, and eventually Webwhisker had had to bring Coalclaw early, where he resumed his usual position sitting at the edge of camp towards sunset; still as a stone but haunted by something within.

“Something’s wrong with him,” Rockscratch said, with an air of sympathy but also a slight twinge of annoyance, like he was inspecting a tear in a well-loved coat of his. “We have to figure out how to fix it. I quite liked how he used to be.”

Milkpaw, meanwhile, was quite successful as a tunneler. While traditionally, a tunneler’s job was dependent on hearing, a trait Milkpaw lacked, her other senses brought a new understanding to the job. She could not hear, but her eyesight was excellent even in the thick, clammy darkness of the tunnels, and she had a sense of motion in the ground that only the finest tunnelers could really tap into. It was understood that tunnelers had longer training periods than their above-ground counterparts, but tunnelers generally got their warrior names around the time they had learned all of the basics and not when their training had truly finished. A tunneler’s leaning never ends,they reasoned when asked about why, as it was rather silly to everyone else.

That’s what terrified Antstar the most. The warrior ceremony. If Stoatslink really was to die, those two would have neither of their parents at their warrior ceremony. He supposed he knew how it felt to not have any parents to begin with… but to have them, and lose them, was a cruelty Antstar felt like he’d never really comprehend, just as he never had anything to say to Russetfoot’s wild grief about his children slowly beginning to slip away.

He didn’t want to cause that. Goldenpaw and Milkpaw had done nothing wrong. The idea of naming his victim’s children made him sick.

But he reminded himself. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t him; it could never be him. The rogues by the Moonstone were going to be a problem. Perhaps some wandering patrol would run into them; even worse, perhaps they would see the medicine cats entering Mothermouth as a threat. They were going to kill some cat eventually. And he didn’t make the deal, nor did he tip them off- that had been Whitetooth. All he had been was there, due to absolutely nothing besides Fate and her wicked talons.

And he couldn’t simply expose Whitetooth, no. Whitetooth was the sole trained medic in WindClan; it would be a few moons before Marblepaw could even think about what her medic name might be. A Clan without a medic would be a death sentence, especially in the coming no-leaf season. And Whitetooth might turn on Antstar, which really wouldn’t be good for anyone.

Besides- as much as he felt wrong for admitting it, as much as he knew Whitetooth was a killer- he only truly felt calm, or perhaps the closest thing he knew to calm, by the white-and-brown cat’s side. There was something about their rich, dark voice; their eyes with pupils nearly always slit like a pocketknife had cut through the teal surface; their silent steps, their confidence. It wasn’t a romantic attraction, no. But it was like they were two souls, bound together by the limbs and thrown over the river; each pushing the other towards a direction only Hell and Heaven knew of.

The day was slow, but the night came quick.

“Stoatslink,” said Antstar as he approached the bullish white tom- he tried to sound confident- “I need to tell you about something. About what you said, regarding… you know.”

Stoatslink said no words, but nodded. At once he understood.

Thought he understood, rather.

“There’s a pack of rogues on the border,” Antstar began, his voice weary and hesitant like the first frost of a season. “I don’t know how many there are. But I am nearly certain they are the ones that may have killed Sparkthistle. You were right, Stoatslink.”

There was a moment of idle hesitation, and Antstar could see Stoatslink’s expression flicker between horror at the suggested reality and a strange, smug sort of pride.

“I’ll kill them,” the white tom grumbled. “I’m run them straight through. Nobody messes with WindClan. By the time I’ll be done with them, you won’t be able to tell they were ever feline.”

Antstar hoped to God and back that Stoatslink’s death would be quick, and that Captain’s group knew what they were doing. He knew he himself couldn’t take the white tom on in a fight- especially not with this attitude.

“That is why I want you, and you alone, to watch over the camp tonight. I hardly expect they’ll attack us. But just in case- I want you to sound the alarm.”

“Only me?” Stoatslink scoffed. His breath smelled like dried hare meat. “But what if they do attack?”

“Then the Clan will know about it,” continued Antstar. “And if the Clan knows about it, they’ll panic.”

“Rightfully so! They-“

“Do you want your daughters to live in fear or not!?!” Antstar yelled in a whisper. He realized he had never felt his voice go harsh like that before- at least, not since he had been a moody kit in the nursery.

But it was effective. Stoatslink backed down. His mouth opened up, as if another word had to escape his snout- and then, sensing he had no argument to speak of, it clicked shut like a music box with no coil left.

“I’ll do what I can, Antstar. And trust me- if they approach, the rogues won’t stand a chance.”

Antstar watched as the white tom sauntered away. He tended to sway about when he walked, like a basset hound; but from the way his shoulder blades perked up Antstar could see the purpose burning in his brain. Then, another white figure approached- Whitetooth, as smooth as ever. Antstar watched as the white cat took Stoatslink aside- or, really, rather just brushed him near, effortlessly; like a breeze guiding leaves. They whispered something in Stoatslink’s ear and threw a few glances.

This was all part of the plan. Whitetooth would convince the ever-bullish Stoatslink that Antstar was being too nice, that Antstar was underestimating him, and rile him up into a fury against these rogues. That way, Stoatslink would charge when he saw them, not caring to alert the Clan in a false belief he could manage on his own- and, therefore, charge into his own death.

It was a simple plan.

It was an awful thing to know.

It had to be done. For WindClan.

Perhaps Whitetooth sensed Antstar’s doubt. For as soon as Stoatslink set off, his vision cloaked in red, they slunk up to their leader and sat next to them, only for a moment whispering something into Antstar’s flattened ear:

“Rest assured, Antstar, this is needed. All of it is. You are doing what you can to keep your clan safe. Elsewise… evil would prosper in your failure.”

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #story #FINALLy

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embersoftheforest · 3 years ago

Note

For the character asks if you’re still doing them- leopardfur/star?

We'll happily always do character asks! Even if we posted them a while back, you're always welcome to ask us to do them (just let us know which one it is if it isn't clear)!

What I love about them: girlboss. gatekeep. gaslight. I love that Leopardfur isn't a perfect leader, or even a perfect character. She has so many flaws and I love exploring them!

What I hate about them: I find it really difficult to get into her mindset sometimes because of how rigid she is. She hides her emotions from others a lot and it makes it difficult to figure out how to play her in some scenes because of that.

Favorite Moment/Quote: There's a chapter a few batches away where Leopardfur leads a patrol to the WindClan border, and I think that's going to be my favourite moment from her for a bit because it really gets to explore her as a leader and how she interacts with her Clanmates.

What I would like to see more focus on: I'm really excited to explore her pre-leadership and how she interacts with the rest of the Clan before she has power over them and conspires with a dictator. I think she has a lot of layers that some of the protagonists will pick up on, and some that they won't.

What I would like to see less focus on: I think a lot of people still misinterpret Leopardfur's actions against the half-Clan cats as her own bigotry or cowardice. She's a cat with kittypet blood. She's a strong leader. But she can be misguided, and I don't want to give the impression that agreeing with Tigerstar was in any way easy or simple for her.

Favorite pairing with: Stonefur <3 Stonefur and Leopardfur have this intense friendship that will transform into a queer-platonic relationship. She really has a deep respect for his strength and how even though he isn't regarded as a traditional RiverClan warrior (much like herself), he takes it in his stride.

Favorite friendship: Skyheart, Blackclaw, and Leopardfur are SO close and so wonderful. They have their arguments (mostly caused by Blackclaw ngl) but I love how much they care for each other and stand by one another. They're kind of two sides of her - Blackclaw feeds that intense, loyal, and proud side of Leopardfur, and Skyheart is the soft, caring, and understanding side of Leopardfur. We have a one-shot featuring these three I'm excited to post this week, so keep an eye out for that!

NOTP: Leopardfur/Whiteclaw. I'm not against it per say as much as I just can't see her in this rewrite seeing him as anything more than her kit (he isn't - but she mentored him, she loves him like her own, especially because his father is useless).

Favorite headcanon: Leopardfur doesn't seek out a mate because she doesn't want to have kits thanks to an omen told to her by Mudfur (which will be shown in a future one-shot). While she does become mates with Stonefur, she takes precautions not to become pregnant, and puts all of her energy into serving her Clan to strengthen them.

#anonymous #answers #ask meme #leopardfur #leopardstar #wc headcanon #wc fan content #thanks for the ask!

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fencesandfrogs · 4 years ago

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clan culture inspiration fic master post

a collection of fics/series/w/e i've used for inspiration. ordered by how much i used them

Flightless Dove, Poison Ivy acaciapines

read it, it’s good. it's 100% my main fic inspiration, i love it, it's very good.

the light that shines on you solacefruit

huge inspiration for my riverclan. just. massively where i get a lot of ideas. probably a larger source of material than flightless dove, if i'm being honest.

RIVERCLAN leaders have a litany of names. weather caller, storm seer, spirit walker. a new leader being made is a chance to find another for the list. these names are to honor leaders for the role they play in their lives.

(names. leaders. meaning.)

so you can see where i got that from.

Warriors Redux Deconstruction Dullard on ao3 (not linked)

i've split this into two parts, because there's a lot. i'm a fan of this in terms of world building, but i've been select in what i've used from it. deconstruction is linked highly because it had a lot of key details that shaped my opinions on what wouldn't be. a lot of this i would've changed anyway, but i wanted to list WR because it'd be dishonest to act like this wasn't shaping my thoughts.

anyway, a short list of things that were mentioned in WR:D that i'd already decided on or am now using

behaviors. i mean, i've said "flicked her tail" or "flattened his ears" so much it's getting old, but by god if i am not being true to cats movements. i think WR:D is somewhat conservative on use of purring, but i've also been writing about kits, and a lot of purring is involved with kits, so special case, i suppose. but i'm very cautious with my descriptions. i've tried really hard not to use smile, because cats don't smile. that's the one that gets me the most.

water. this is kind of a specific thing. but. in ctd's fading echoes. the lake is a concern not because the cats need water, but because the prey needs water.

queens and toms. now. i have always been irritated by this. and the lack of female leadership. because toms should know they're kept on the graces of the queens. the sisters got it right. but i can't just kick out half the cast, so i'm forced to keep them. i have, however, kept toms out of the nursery. queens are protective around their kits. it's the best i can do to appease my strong desire to literally just kick every male cat out of the clan. in all of my stories, though, i keep track of who's in the nursery with what kits, because those kits are going to bond to every damn mother. it's super annoying that this isn't kept more clear anywhere. i have to do so much math and check so many allegiances every time.

kits. it's basically impossible to convince me to write this the way the hunters do, so even in ctd, we see kits not walking, not opening their eyes, until real kittens would. does this make the early chapters of growing shadows a pain because dovekit does basically nothing but sit and listen? yes. do i care? yes, it is important to me that dovekit does nothing but sit and listen because she's a baby. bb. need protect.

genetics. usually i correct coat colors for POV cats. because it bothers me. see: tortie dovekit/ivykit in CTD, and the fact that i think in jaywing, jayfeather is going to end up amber like brightheart. i need to do some research to double check, but...i think that's what will happen. (please don't ask about hollykit, ivykit, and lionkit. i don't even know who their parents are. how is crowfeather "dark grey, almost black"? what does that mean. how is leafpool even leafpool. i don't understand anything.)

religion. i'm not fundamentally changing how starclan works, because i'm writing the books where magic is confirmed real, but...i've tried to distance the connections with it. and god, so help me, i'm going to make things a proper religion for w&f. there will be religious things like prayer. god.

cultures, folklore, names. this is getting long so i'm lumping this together. basically, i've got some name stuff sorted out. it's not "traditional" naming, because i'm not going WR on this and renaming really important cats (altho the reason WR has my respect for traditional naming is because they're not afraid to rename cats to fit the scheme), but i have some pretty defined rules. and there will be folklore and stories. this is especially important for dovefeather, when she goes to riverclan.

Sharing Tongues Icej

a series. i don't think i've used much of this directly, but it has shaped a lot of my opinions on clans. it's why thunderclan is militaristic and why windclan is so strict.

it's also shaped my thoughts on a lot of parts of clan life. i'm writing this all out of order, so i'll say, a lot of the inspiration that warriors redux had, is shared in this series. i'm not sure if there's overlap in the interst, but it's got simularities.

especially in terms of relationships. i have a bit of a fascination with story telling as a form of culture, if only because in my personal life, story telling, especially verbal story telling, has always been really important. so i think a lot about it.

anyway, these are a good set of fics, and they're ranked so highly because they're kind of a paradigm i've crafted my thoughts around.

Tell me about your Ancestors Drowsy_Salamander

so this was what got me started, even over flightless dove. it got me thinking about the differences clans would have.

i haven't written "funerals. mourning. prayer." yet, although as you might guess from the fact that i have a title, it is on my mind. i think i'll draw heavily on this for that.

one other very specific line in this that i draw on is

When SkyClan was reformed by Firestar at the gorge, it was reformed in ThunderClan’s image.

now i say that specifically because i didn't want that. i wanted leafstar to find her own tradition. a lot of skyclan's destiny deals with her struggling to adapt the warrior code to her clan. so Ancestors continues by talking about tree's influence, and this is what i got from it:

SKYCLAN once held ceremonies at tilt, when the birds were quiet, but now, they hold most ceremonies at low moon, when the spirits are strongest. ...

apprentices are made at low sun, born from a time when they were not always gathered.

(ceremonies)

and i'm happy with that

Warriors Redux: Ammendment Dullard on ao3, not linked

this is ranked significantly lower than deconstruction because (a) i'm borrowing superificial things at best and (b) i had already come to a lot of these conclusions. still, i'm writing a full list because there are little things i don't think to write whole essays about sometimes. that said, whereas in deconstruction, i could basically say "yes, everything that's said here, i agree with, i'm only tweaking things for personal taste or because of differences in perspective" here it's more like "here are the things i'm using" and the other stuff is just there, but not really anything i want to use

time and date. in one of my generic CTD posts i had a few paragraphs about this. basically, i like the system of time. except for half, because that confuses me. so it's dawn, sunrise, low sun, (sun) tilt, sunhigh, dusk, moonrise, low moon, (moon) tilt, moonhigh, repeat. and kits are aged to apprentices at the beginning or rough midpoint of seasons.

numbers. math. drawing things in the dirt with claws. in short, yes, no, what the...no. just no. cats in my stories can basically count, but they don't really, like, count the way we do? they might say five leaf bares ago, because i am not saying, "the leaf bare before the one with X which was before the one with Y" and that's what a cat is thinking and maybe they have words for this, i don't know, i'm not writing that. four and nine are holy numbers, or the closest cats get. (apprentices are apprenticed at nine moons in the holy sense, because a queen pregnent for a three --- two, but who's counting --- and in the nursery for six. this will never come up in a story unless it's a background note, because it's confusing and hard to explain off the cuff.) i don't have to explain my last point.

names. i have my own rules. i don't intend on changing character names with the exception of the symbolism in jaywing and dovefeather, but i may at some point make some comments on what, based on my rules, i would do. i don't want to change names because it confuses me, but i don't want to say for sure that i won't. definitely not based on WR rules, i have my own form of "traditional naming" for the w&f world.

clan specific notes. you can find it in my writing. there's a lot of influence in it. i don't want to list everything.

come back to you one by one solacefruit

i haven't really used this for anything, i just generally like it. it's definitely given me inspiration for how i use stories, but not any particular thing.

it really is beautiful, though.

alright, that's about it.

#warriors au #warriors worldbuilding #worldbuilding #warriors #warrior cats #jaywing #cloudtail's daughter #dovefeather #mine #txt #28th #February #2021 #February 28th 2021 #1st #March #March 1st 2021 #q

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malkumtend · 4 years ago

Text

I Like Your Laugh (A SquirrelCrow AU) - Chapter 20.

For the first time in moons, Crowpaw was hungry.

Hunting had been as pointless as Tallstar had claimed. With the roar of monsters, as well as the lingering stink of Twolegs, prey was impossible to find. Worse than that, Crowpaw had seen those pale fleshed creatures skulking around the ruins of his home, carrying their storm of destruction with them.

They would mark the few trees left with a haze of red mist, and then bite into the thick bark with long silver claws. The crash of the wood as it slammed into the torn ground sent a tremble over Windclan. Every collision caused Crowpaw’s heart to tremble.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before the whole forest fell.

Hunting had been a fruitless effort. Crowpaw was the only one who had caught anything, but two withered shrew was not going to help the clans. Onewhisker had looked relieved at the mere sight of prey, and the way he praised Crowpaw was like he had caught a dozen hares.

“Well done, Crowpaw.” Onewhisker purred weakly as the hunting patrol made their way back. “That catch will help feed the kits another night.”

Nightcloud had mewed in agreement, her own face brightened at the stale scent of the shrews. Crowpaw had expected Webfoot to snarl the group back to reality, but the tom didn’t have a word to say, just a small grave nod.

Crowpaw attempted a small meow of thanks, but his throat instantly felt dry. The shrews hardly made up enough space to fill his mouth. Was this really all they could rely on to feed the starving kits and elders? He tried to not let this realisation mark his face with horror. It would do no good for anyone. Despite everything, the group was trying to keep some kind of determination; Crowpaw couldn’t kill that.

“Looks like all that travelling did some good for you, hey?” Nightcloud meowed, tapping his side with her tail. Under the darkening sky, her eyes lit up like pink embers. “You almost look like a natural hunter.”

Crowpaw nodded mildly, hoping the sound his throat made sounded more like a laugh than a groan.

“Don’t tease him, Nightcloud.” Onewhisker sighed tiredly, “We need all the prey we can find.”

“I was being serious.” The black molly insisted. “I wasn’t making fun of him.”

Onewhisker muttered something incoherent. Just looking at his back, it was clear that the tom had been discouraged by the hunt. As thankful as he was that some prey was caught for the kits that needed it so desperately, it was clear it would be a while before the thinning bodies of the Warriors got any end to their slow suffering.

Looking back at his still firm body, Crowpaw felt his growing hunger twist into guilt. He was nowhere near in the right to complain about prey.

Even standing besides the group, Crowpaw felt like he didn’t belong, didn’t deserve, to be there. By all means, he was able enough to get through the night without prey. Just how many queens, kits and elders had been forced to resign themselves to that fate.

The night air refused to respond to his question, it just scratched him with its freezing claws.

Once he’d taken the prey back, he’d have to find Tallstar. The time was approaching. Soon he would have to stand beside his…acquaintances from the other clans, hoping that they would receive a sign that told them where to go from here.

Crowpaw had never been so desperate to know an answer in all his life.

If any of the clans waited any longer, Crowpaw was certain that Windclan wouldn’t survive the next moon. Hunger, dehydration, and destruction was all that they would find here. Tallstar understood that, thankfully; Crowpaw could only hope the other clans would as well.

Unfortunately, the apprentice didn’t know whether they would share his clan’s sentiments.

He thought about what Tawnypelt and Stormfur would have to deal with when it came to their leaders. It didn’t matter how much they screamed the truth to their clans, ultimately it was up to Blackstar and Leopardstar if their clans moved or not. The Shadowclan leader would not be swayed easily. His pride was significantly excruciating from what Crowpaw remembered from previous gatherings.

And Leopardstar. At the thought of her, Crowpaw couldn’t help but feel fury prickle over his pelt. Tallstar had openly pleaded, putting all of his pride aside for his clan, the Riverclan leader to let them use the lake to drink. They hadn’t done that for nothing! Cats had needed that water then, it was essential now! Crowpaw thought the clans had reached an understanding.

Apparently not.

Leopardstar, based on the word of some no-clan stray who had sauntered his way into Riverclan, had pretty much left Windclan for dead. She had left every one of them to suffer on their own. Crowpaw knew that Windclan had taken some prey every now and then, but it certainly wasn’t enough that Riverclan would notice it was gone! Windclan needed to survive too!

But no. Whoever this Hawkfrost was, he had convinced Leopardstar that Windclan had earnt such a punishment! Did they not have cats of their own that were feeling the strains of these horrors? Could they really look at those cats and feed them, knowing that they had refused another clan such a necessity?! Crowpaw knew that Leopardstar was a cat who was frosty on her best days, but could she really be that cruel? If she trusted Windclan so little, who was to say she wouldn’t refuse to follow them to a new home?

Could Stormfur even convince her? He hadn’t even been the one who was…

Oh.

Oh Stars… no.

Crowpaw almost paused where he stood. Only walking on when he saw a concerned glint in Nightcloud’s eyes as he wobbled forward.

“Are you okay?”

Well, let’s see. He had left his clan to suffer, including his mother, while the home their entire clan had been rooted in for eons was being torn apart like it was nothing but sand, he had disgraced his father’s trust and was reminded of that with every disapproving flare of the stars above, and he might have ruined the clans hopes of getting Riverclan to follow them on their journey, destroying the history of the four clans themselves with a single paw, all because he hadn’t been the one who had rightfully died on that journey.

Did he mention it was his fault that an innocent cat, one of his best friends, had died to save his worthless pelt?

Crowpaw dipped his head at Nightcloud and she took that as a yes.

“Of course he’s okay.” Webfoot muttered, an audible curl on his lip. “He’s gotten everything he wanted.”

Crowpaw’s eyes snapped open.

“Webfoot!” Onewhisker turned his head to the tom with a warning growl. “Don’t you start any trouble.”

Webfoot grunted, “Why? He’s allowed to because he’s an apprentice.”

Crowpaw spat the shrews out of mouth, erupting with a snarl. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He demanded. There was a monster at the back of his head screaming at him to get into the tom’s face. “Gotten what I wanted? Are you trying to say that I wanted two-legs to come here?”

Nightcloud ran her tail over Crowpaw’s back. “Calm down.” Crowpaw ignored her, his eyes caught in a glare with the tom ahead of him.

Webfoot ignored the death stare that Onewhisker sent him. His eyes slid away from Crowpaw, disgusted. “No. But you got Tallstar to believe your stories. I bet you’re really proud to have that kind of influence.” He sounded like he was spitting out muck as he spoke.

Now, the demands to cause harm raced into a roar. Crowpaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Webfoot really think he was that shallow? “This isn’t about that at all, you piece of fox-dung!” Crowpaw’s shouting echoed over the hills. “It’s about-”

“Enough!” Onewhisker got between the two toms, hissing. “Both of you!”

Crowpaw was affronted, “He’s the one who-”

“I know that!” Onewhisker snapped, his stern snarl made Crowpaw cower away. “But Windclan doesn’t need the two of you fighting! If we have any hope of getting through this, we need to work together as a clan!” He turned back to Webfoot, his backfur prickling. “And we certainly don’t need any cats questioning the decisions of their leader!”

Webfoot frowned, one fang slipping over his lip. “That’s not what I was-”

“Quiet!” Onewhisker ordered. “Listen to me, Webfoot! I don’t care if you, or any cat for that matter, doesn’t believe in Crowpaw’s sign! If Tallstar decides that Windclan needs to move, that is what we will be doing!” The skinny tom took a pounding step towards Webfoot. “If you have an issue with that, then I’d be happy to take you to discuss it with Tallstar.” He dared with a snap of his teeth. It sounded like breaking a rabbit’s neck.

The panic Webfoot displayed was brief, but it was telling. His tail sank to the floor like a bird falling out of its nest. To his, limited, credit he kept his face straight. That was just all the more infuriating for Crowpaw.

“There’s no need for that.” Webfoot drawled. He lashed a look at Crowpaw. “And please don’t misunderstand, I hope that Crowpaw is right in what he says.” His eyes narrowed snakily. “If he’s wrong, who knows what would happen to Windclan.”

Crowpaw growled to not show weakness.

Like most things he did these days, it repressed the way his body shook at the words.

“Well then,” Nightcloud stepped forward, her claws unsheathed. “Why don’t you shut up and believe in him like Tallstar does, you waste of fur!”

“Nightcloud!” Onewhisker hissed, “What did I just say about fighting?”

The molly scoffed, muttering a fake apology as she looked away. Webfoot didn’t reply, he had apparently decided he’d said enough.

And it was enough that Crowpaw got the point.

Onewhisker maintained a strained silence between the cats, before he let out a croaky sigh. He sounded like he was releasing the pain from his weakening joints. “Let’s not waste anymore time.” He frowned over at Crowpaw. “Pick up those shrews. There are cats who need them.”

Crowpaw looked down to where he’d spat out the sorry excuses for prey, and his heart dropped with disgrace. Those shrews could be what separated a cat from life and death, and he’d spat them out like some kittypet sulking at a two-leg. A horrible, regretful embarrassment clouded over the cat. He stuttered over his own selfishness.

“I-I’m sorry, Onewhisker.”

Onewhisker gave him a hard look that was hard to describe. It made Crowpaw uneasy. The older cat’s whiskers shook with a grunt. “Sorry doesn’t feed cats. Now pick up that prey and make sure you don’t drop it again until you’re in front of someone who needs it!”

Crowpaw dipped his head. The knowledge that his actions made him a liability sent him cold. “Yes, Onewhisker.” Carefully, he picked the shrews up again. When he looked up, Onewhisker was already strolling off, soon followed by Webfoot. The tom made sure to swipe his tail at Crowpaw before he turned away with a malicious scoff.

Crowpaw stared in their direction, then he began to follow them. What else could he do? He couldn’t blame Onewhisker for his fury, the cat had been struggling to make sure Windclan didn’t fall. If Crowpaw didn’t know any better he could have assumed that the cat was the Deputy.

He couldn’t even blame Webfoot really. Well… no. The cat was a fox-heart who had no right to claim those things about him. Crowpaw would never want any of this. But he could see how it looked. An apprentice that had ran away and come back without a reason he could prove and had convinced their leader to follow his advice. It made sense that Webfoot wouldn’t trust him.

That just worked to make Crowpaw feel worse.

If it made sense, then just how much could his clan trust him? How much could he trust himself to save them from an agonising fate?

Searching for those answers was like swimming through fog and ice.

A sympathetic purr rumbled at his side. Nightcloud was looking at him softly. “Don’t pay any attention to Webfoot. He’s always been a burr-furred mange pelt.”

If Crowpaw could open his mouth, he might have muttered a thanks to her. He kept silent. It didn’t matter really. He still ended up thinking, ‘Just because he’s a mange pelt, it doesn’t mean he’s wrong.’ Webfoot’s intentions, no matter what mouse-bile he spewed, were clear. He didn’t forgive Crowpaw for abandoning Windclan. He wanted to punish the apprentice, however he could.

Crowpaw had done everything he thought was right.

Crowpaw had done everything for the purpose of helping Windclan.

But that didn’t exclude the idea that maybe… he deserved to be punished.

“Hey?” Nightcloud murmured, “Do you want me to carry one of those for you?”

She was offering to help him carry some measly shrews?

Did he actually look that pathetic?

He shook his head. She watched him patiently, as if hopeful he would change his mind, before turning away with a sigh. She didn’t need to help him. Any burden for the clan was one Crowpaw deserved to carry.

The thought didn’t leave Crowpaw even when he returned to the ‘camp’ Windclan had fashioned, not when Nightcloud pointed to him the tattered base of an old rabbit warren where they were sheltering the kits, not when the dark molly gave him a well-natured touch with her muzzle, and not when he slowly walked past his clanmates, all scarred, starving, or both, trying their best to get some rest in this terrible place.

His good intentions did not change everything that had happened because of him. Even as he walked by his clanmates, he could hear the gravelly whispers all around him. They didn’t sound happy. Crowpaw almost looked like he was trying to hide his head between his shoulders, unspeakably afraid to catch any cat’s gaze. If he turned and saw every cat view him with hatred, he didn’t know if he could carry on walking.

He cursed himself for looking so pathetic. He could only imagine what cats were thinking. He didn’t want to picture what they’d think when Tallstar revealed why he’d truly been gone. This shaking, moody apprentice was what their fates rested on.

Perhaps the forest would be the more honourable way to die.

Unlatching himself from these thoughts was like scratching at a rock. The truth came on him, refusing to let him go. He deserved the looks. He deserved the hate. And if he was being honest, he would have deserved Webfoot finishing him off with a bite to his throat. Admitting these things was almost relieving for the cat, like he was finally facing the inevitable.

He had given Windclan the message they needed.

What use – what good - was he to them anymore?

“Where are you going?”

Crowpaw jolted where he stood, his ears drifting back fearfully. He slowly met the eyes of his mentor. Mudclaw was looking down at him irritably, the night made his amber eyes flicker. Crowpaw could barely move as he remembered how the Deputy had been earlier. How he had not believed Crowpaw’s explanation and had looked betrayed when his leader did.

Mudclaw growled into the silence. “You should drop what you have in your mouth if you’re going to answer.”

Crowpaw could barely meet Mudclaw’s gaze as he gently dropped the shrews. “I was… I was going to take these to the Queens. That way the kits can get some milk.”

Mudclaw rolled his eyes, “I’m aware of how feeding kits works, Crowpaw.” He sounded as gruff as he looked. His back wasn’t spiked, but it still looked jagged and rough, like sand under a blistering sun. His face was dull with fatigue. “Good hunting I see?” He said, his voice dreadfully sarcastic.

Crowpaw dropped his head again. Even before leaving for the journey, there was nothing that made him curl up like the disappointment of his mentor. “There wasn’t much to catch.”

“I know that as well.” Mudclaw said, “I suppose that’s another reason we need to leave, hmm?” The sarcasm swiped again.

Crowpaw didn’t say anything. There would be no good response to that.

Mudclaw peered down at the shrews, sitting down and stretching his forelegs with a groan. “Truth be told, it is not easy to find prey around here. I had hoped that after a few days we would know where we could find some again.” His voice dimmed. “Regretfully, there hasn’t been much success.” He sniffed at the shrews and, to Crowpaw’s surprise, his mentor let out a laugh that almost sounded glad. “Not much of a mouthful, but at least they’re fresh.”

Whether it was the bleak praise of his mentor, or the idea that his actions could have been of any good in the first place, a calm purr rumbled in Crowpaw’s throat.

“Luckily,” Mudclaw started again, grooming his shoulder with snappy bites. “You won’t have to choose between a Queen to feed. Only Whitetail hasn’t received prey since yesterday. Thankfully, you’ve changed that.”

Whitetail. Realisation rushed through the apprentice. So that was why Onewhisker looked so happy to see the prey. His own mate could finally get the kill she needed for their kits.

“I’m… I’m glad I could help somehow.”

“Was there really nothing else to find?”

Crowpaw mewed sadly, “Nothing. And we won’t be able to scent anything now. The only smell around here is the stink of those monsters.”

Mudclaw hissed behind his teeth. “Fox-dung to it all.” Crowpaw could have been frightened by how grave his mentor sounded. Defeat was not something he had ever been able to associate with his leader. The older cat grumbled a moment more, before he stumbled over to his apprentice. Crowpaw tried not to flinch as the cat smelt his pelt.

“Well,” Mudclaw’s voice was low, but not hard. “At the very least, you saw more of this territory.” He scoffed humourlessly, “You almost smell like Windclan again.”

Crowpaw knew better than to show how much those words sank into him.

Mudclaw padded back, studying his apprentice with a narrowed expression. “I was thinking about what Webfoot said earlier.” He said slowly, “What did he mean when he mentioned that Thunderclan cat. Owlpaw sought me out to tell me that she��” Mudclaw let his words loosen as his stare hardened. Crowpaw knew what Mudclaw was going to ask about and a sheer sense of fear stalked into his chest. “Embraced you. Is that right?”

The night air was growing too cold for Crowpaw. Why else would his paws shake so much?

It wasn’t fair! He had nothing to feel guilty about! He never asked her to do that! He had tried to say goodbye without igniting any suspicion among the clans, he had been loyal and fair about it! It wasn’t his fault if she couldn’t take that. It wasn’t his paws that had pulled her so close to him! It wasn’t him who had left her scent all over him! He wasn’t to blame! She was!

And yet, despite all these things, he couldn’t find it in his chest to be angry at Squirrelpaw.

He knew he should. He knew that if he allowed the rage of how she had made him look disloyal compel him to just a hiss, it would retain the normalcy that he had to reclaim.

For both their sakes.

Fox-dung! Why were his thoughts on her side? Why was he still brought to concern over her?

“Yes.” Crowpaw said, his voice as strong as a cloud.

Mudclaw eased back slightly, but his gaze still burned. “Why would she do that? Are you two ‘friends’?” Mudclaw’s tail thumped down at the word.

Say no. That’s all he had to do.

“We were allies.” Crowpaw said. The feeling in his chest was softening the race of his brain. Something inside him told him to tell the truth, but to not give too much away. The worry in his heart was not for himself. “We had to be. We travelled together that long, after all.”

Mudclaw did not look satisfied. “That doesn’t answer why she did that once you were on Windclan territory.”

Crowpaw kept fixed on his mentor, but he thought he could see a twitch under the moonlight. Was it the refletion of a claw? Crowpaw breathed in softly. “She was just saying goodbye. She was wishing me luck.” He shrugged innocently, “I guess that’s just her way of doing that.”

Mudclaw sniffed, “Interesting way, if you ask me.” His stare still prickled on Crowpaw’s skin for a long time. Crowpaw held onto the grass under his feet, begging that somehow he wasn’t showing any weakness. If Mudclaw suspected something else, who knew what he would do? Crowpaw didn’t want to know what the cat did with cats he suspected were traitors.

Crowpaw wasn’t a traitor!

But… neither was Squirrelpaw.

Crowpaw knew, he just knew, that Squirrelpaw wouldn’t have done that if she thought she would get Crowpaw in trouble. They had been like that, close, throughout the journey. She wouldn’t have thought she was doing anything wrong by just hugging him one last time.

Suddenly, Crowpaw’s tongue felt dry. Of course, she wouldn’t have thought that. Because she hadn’t done anything wrong. She had just hugged a friend. Besides, Crowpaw, all those moons ago, had been the one to do it first, when the fear of losing her had made his eyes water. It had been him that had told her he wished to keep seeing her once this was all over.

His heart sank again.

Maybe… this was also his fault. If he had given her the idea that it was okay, even when they had returned, then could he blame her. If he’d had any sense, he would have shut the idea down there and then!

The idea of doing that filled his head again. The normal strain resolved. Clan life resumed. The disappointment that would have stung her expression. The way that saying no would make his own heart break.

Crowpaw’s closed his eyes with a quiet hiss. What was wrong with him?!

He swiftly looked up at his mentor again, ignoring the way he had risen a brow. If he wasn’t careful he would have given his friendship with Squirrelpaw away. And that would be a disaster for the both of them.

But didn’t he want to be punished? If he was truthful, and accepted responsibility, then wouldn’t that make him a real Warrior?

It was the idea of having Squirrelpaw punished as well that made him silence that thought.

She didn’t deserve that. Only he did.

“After she’d done that, I got her off me and told her to go back to Thunderclan where she was needed.” Crowpaw explained stonily. “That was it. Or did Owlpaw tell you differently?”

The stink of the monsters wafted over Windclan, as venomous as Mudclaw’s silence. The Deputy drummed his claws into the grass, fire still pure in his stare. “And that was all?” It sounded more like a threat than a question.

“That was all.”

Crowpaw must have sounded convincing, because Mudclaw blinked and he looked satisfied. “I see. And no, that does match what Owlpaw told me.” Crowpaw was kind of thankful that the apprentice had been truthful, at least. “That’s good. I was concerned that you’d forgotten your place.”

Place.

Not Clan.

Crowpaw shook his head, trying to look prideful. “Of course not, Mudclaw. The journey is over now, the only concern I have is for Windclan. The other’s will need to look out for their own clans.”

He hoped they could do that easier than he was finding it.

Mudclaw nodded, “I’m glad you know that, Crowpaw.” He let out a bitter chuckle, “If Thunderclan is lucky, maybe that molly realise the same.”

Crowpaw hoped that she did too. But that didn’t stop his claws from tensing unconsciously. He drew them back in before his mentor noticed, screaming inwardly to follow his own words.

“Hopefully.” Crowpaw managed to say. “If the Clans are to survive the journey, they’ll need to.”

Mudclaw looked irritable again. “Ah yes. You’ll need to find Tallstar soon, won’t you?”

Crowpaw grit his teeth as he realised his stupidity. He’d forgotten Mudclaw’s feelings about their travels. “I-I swear that this is the right decision, Mudclaw.” He meowed. The older cat didn’t look his way, his neck fur swaying in the icy breeze. “Windclan will survive if we do this, I promise.”

Mudclaw shrugged with a scoff, “Well, you’ve convinced Tallstar of that. I suppose that’s all that matters!” Crowpaw tried to be sympathetic to the Deputy as he remembered the way Tallstar had shut Mudclaw’s objections down. Crowpaw believed that Mudclaw’s suspicions were driven by his concern for Windclan, and it wouldn’t be easy for any cat to abandon their home when they didn’t see a need to.

Still, Mudclaw needed to trust in Starclan. Trust in Crow… Trust in Tallstar’s decision.

“I’m not lying to you.” Crowpaw meowed, “There is a better place somewhere.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Crowpaw drew back sharply, taken aback. Mudclaw stared out, as if over the whole of the clan. His jaw was tight as his eyes creased with frustration. “I can see that our home is being destroyed. Of course, there is some place where we can go. Silverpelt does not shine over just the flowers, after all. But it’s whether we can make such a journey that bothers me!”

Crowpaw’s jaw slowly dipped from his mouth. It was rare he heard such apprehension from his mentor. He almost sounded pained.

“Cats haven’t eaten or drank for close to a moon, and when we have it’s just been those kind of catches,” He lashed his tail to the dirty shrews, “Everywhere I look, my clanmates are suffering and I can’t see how telling them to wander through the forest will help them in anyway!”

Crowpaw now saw the real mortification on his mentor’s face. Windclan was the only thing in Mudclaw’s mind. “If we stay here, we’ll all die.” Crowpaw said morosely, “I know it sounds crazy, but there isn’t anything else we can do.”

Mudclaw rolled his eyes. “I think there are many options we have, Crowpaw.” The older cat drawled, “But like I said, it doesn’t matter now. Tallstar agrees with you, and if he decides to go then I will have to follow my leader to the end.”

Crowpaw may have felt hope if not for the grave frown on the Deputy’s face.

“However,” His voice was low, “I fear that Tallstar may be approaching that end already.”

His words were like being torn apart limb from limb. Freezing horror wrapped all over Crowpaw. Surely Mudclaw wasn’t suggesting what he thought he was. “What do you mean?”

Mudclaw narrowed his eyes, but his muzzle creased with upset. “Crowpaw, you’re not a mouse-brain. You have seen Tallstar since you came back here, and you and I both know that he is not… well.”

Truthfully, Crowpaw had noticed it. He was sure any cat would. The way the leader coughed after a mere sentence, the way he had relied on Onewhisker’s side to walk strong, how when he spoke it sounded as if rocks were cutting into his throat. It was true. Tallstar did not look well at all.

“He may keep strong for now, but he is not getting stronger with every moon that passes.” Mudclaw gazed up at the hollow light of the moon above them, his eyes bleak with thought. “If he can’t do that in his own clan, I fail to see how travelling would not make things worse. Additionally, if the other clans saw him in that state they would use it for their own advantage, of that I’m certain.” His teeth grit with the last line.

Crowpaw’s mouth opened but he couldn’t find the correct words. The idea that this journey could cause his leader to… His gaze found the ground again, dilated and afraid. “The…The other clans wouldn’t do that.” He hated how uncertain he sounded. “We have to work together if we…”

“Your logic makes sense, Crowpaw.” Mudclaw cut him off, stepping forward with a sigh. There was such a sense of authority in his step that Crowpaw had to step back. “But you cannot speak for the other clans or how they think. No matter how much you may have trusted those cats on your journey, there will always be those…” A low growl rumbled in his chest, “That will grin at the sight of weakness. Without a strong leader, we are vulnerable, and when that happens we can’t afford to lose our freedom for the sake of some temporary peace!” He stepped beside Crowpaw, pressing his tail hard into his side. “It may be the worst scenario, but it is there nonetheless. Windclan needs its Warriors to remember what side they’re on, they need to be willing to fight for that. Can I trust you to do that if the time comes?”

He spoke of a future that no one could truly understand. No one knew what was on its way.

But, by the Stars, Crowpaw was scared of how convincing Mudclaw sounded.

It made perfect sense after all. The clans had been rivals for generations. Before the journey, if Crowpaw had known that a leader from the enemy was sick, he would have howled with laughter at the idea of that clan becoming weaker. He could expect as much from them. Those feelings surely couldn’t just disappear because they were forced into this terrible partnership.

But when he thought of the journey. When he imagined the faces of his… He couldn’t, didn’t want to, imagine that they would do something like that after everything they’d been through.

But then… maybe that was the problem.

Maybe that showed how backwards Crowpaw had become.

It was time to face facts. There was no hope that anything real could survive with the cats he’d known. Their very nature wouldn’t allow it. Besides, Crowpaw had not been of any real use to them.

Feathertail hadn’t come home because of him.

No, with them… It would be better if they just never saw him again once all this was done.

He’d forgotten his loyalty, the loyalty ingrained in his blood, and he knew Windclan would not hesitate to remind him of that in the future. And that was fine.

He deserved to pay for everything he’d done. To every clan.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to be of use while he awaited that punishment.

Windclan deserved better than him, and they could get better than he ever was, but he still needed to work for them when they needed it. This was his one chance to do some real good in his life.

He needed to make sure Windclan knew he was loyal. He needed to make sure his previous friends knew where his loyalty really was. If they couldn’t grasp that, then he needed to remind them of it. They had all hated him at the start. He needed to make sure it was like that once again.

Even though… he didn’t think he could ever hate them again.

But that was why he needed to keep the line clear. Once they were all back to normal in their clans, it had to get better for them. They deserved that kind of ending.

That was why they couldn’t be friends anymore.

So when he suddenly found himself thinking of Squirrelpaw and her cheeky, amazing smile, he let the guilt and self-revulsion take him over. He accepted the sickness in his stomach and called it disloyalty.

If he wanted her to be safe, he needed to shut her away.

Even when the thought of that made his sickness worse.

“Yes, Mudclaw.” Crowpaw said, his voice hollow and found.

Mudclaw stepped away, his eyes never leaving Crowpaw. His eyes blazed like an owl’s. “Good. It’s important you understand what’s right if we find ourselves in that situation.”

“I understand.” Crowpaw said, dipping his head.

A real sound of contentment left Mudclaw. Crowpaw tried to let it ease him. “Excellent.” There was a long silence after that. Then a heavy exhale exited the Deputy and Crowpaw felt a tail smooth over his back. “I do hope that you’re right about this journey, Crowpaw. There is nothing I want more than for my clan to survive.”

Crowpaw sensed a ‘but’ so he didn’t take that as acceptance.

“But, just remember where your real allies are if the time comes. Understand?”

Crowpaw hated that he was right. He couldn’t speak this time so he just nodded his head.

Mudclaw made a pleased mrrow. “Now, take your prey to Whitetail and then go and find Tallstar. The sooner we have a real plan, the better. No matter what happens.” Something was hidden in how he said that, but he was gone before the chill had found Crowpaw’s tail.

He realised it was stupid to think about that.

Mudclaw was his Deputy. Mudclaw was Windclan. That made him an ally. That was where his trust needed to be.

Crowpaw picked up the prey again and strode quickly to the stinking, damaged warren. Sure enough, Whitetail was there. Her eyes were dark with exhaustion and sorrow as she listened to the three small kits at her belly cry hungrily as they suckled for milk that wasn’t there.

Crowpaw’s heart ached. No wonder Onewhisker accepted his story so easily. Anything was better than this.

Whitetail slowly lifted her head as Crowpaw approached. Suddenly, her eyes flickered open as a high mew of relief escaped her mouth. “Crowpaw!” She cried. “You have prey!”

Crowpaw dropped the shrews beside the molly, he tried not to look at how her ribs jutted when she moved to grab them. “That’s all we could find. I’m sorry there isn’t more.”

Whitetail shot him a wide-eyed glance, purring happily. “Don’t be mouse-brained! This is wondeful!” She stared down at the shrews like they were a pile of hares, then she nuzzled the kits closer to her belly. “Just wait a little longer, my darlings. I’ll soon have some milk for you.” Her eyes shone with love and when she smiled it looked like something she had almost forgotten how to do. “What do we say to Crowpaw?”

The kits mewed again, huddling to their mother for warmth.

Whitetail let out a soft mutter, laughing was too difficult these days. “They say thank you.”

Crowpaw dipped his head respectfully, “Tell them that they don’t need to. Any Warrior would do the same.” His eyes gently lifted to the white molly’s. “Also, let them know that whatever prey is given to me will be yours.”

An incredible gasp erupted from the Queen. “Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t accept that!”

“Yes you can.” Crowpaw said simply, “They need it more than me.”

“Crowpaw, that’s honourable of you to say so. But you are still an apprentice.” Her face was pure with gratitude. “You need your strength as well.”

“I’m strong enough as I am.” I don’t deserve to eat. “You look like you haven’t eaten for moons. You need to eat, I can survive without food for a few days.”

“Crowpaw, I-”

“With all due respect, Whitetail.” The apprentice said softly, lightly brushing his tail over the kits. “I’ve made up my mind. You won’t change it.”

Whitetail was silent with shock. Her face was a mix of awe and uncertainty. Crowpaw didn’t give her the chance to argue further. “Sleep well.” He said, to her and her kits. Then he rose up and turned away. He needed to find Tallstar now. Moonhigh was not far away.

“Crowpaw!”

Crowpaw sighed, but he kept calm as he turned back to the starving mother.

Her smile was a white as her fur, and notably overcome with joyful appreciation. She took a bite out of her shrew and then ran her tongue slowly over her kit’s small pelts, happier than she had been in moons. “I’m glad you’re back. Windclan missed you.”

That wasn’t true, Crowpaw thought. But he nodded, feeling underserving of such kindness.

“I’ll do anything for Windclan.”

What else could he do?

If he didn’t he might as well not be alive.

#crowfeather #crowpaw #squirrelflight #squirrelpaw #crowsquirrel #squirrelcrow #I like your laugh #Warriors #Warrior Cats #warriors fic #mudclaw #onewhisker #windclan

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mallowstep · 4 years ago

Photo

i'm particpating in a trope bingo and i figure i'd share my card so anyone who desires to request something can.

the trope bingo closes end of may, although we'll see how much i get done: i haven't forgotten about windclan! but feel free to send requests from this. just send a prompt, and characters. as always, no promises i'll fill it, but i'm likely enough to.

update: listing fics that are planned and/or posted below (green boxes for completed/posted titles, red crosses for stuff i've planned, blue for requests):

my quick screenshot editor only has a rectangle tool so i work with what i have. also, italicised titles were removed from plans for some reason or another.

babies ever after — "star light, star bright; first star i see tonight" / fernivy babies.

the matchmaker — "it's never too late to come back to my side" / EITHER dovewing setting up ivypool and fernsong OR oakheart setting up crookedjaw and willowbreeze; i cannot decide

rejected marriage proposal — "the sky of the sky" / it's not that thrushpelt never wanted more from bluefur.

you are not alone — "fair is the night" / ivypool has a nightmare while tigerheart is in thunderclan

danger – thin ice — "like glass, like crystal" / flametail's death changes things

secret relationship — "breath like sweet dream smoke" / more jaypoppy content

fake relationship — "cats who train together..." / moonkitti inspired blossomfall & thornclaw (request by anon)

alone in a crowd — "you've been on my mind, girl, since the flood" / blossomfall reflection/character study (requested by anon)

loveable rogue — "relativistic" / the night cirucs talljake au

childhood friend romance — "expressio unius est exclusio alterius" / another shrewsquirrel )fic [1]

childhood friend romance — "cardamom pods and vanilla beans" / follow-up/companion piece to "hallelujah to the grace, and the body, and every cell of us all" where holly, lion, and cinder solve their problems and jay and poppy laugh.

survivor's guilt — "poisoned berries, choking roots" / ivypool reflection on hollyleaf

meet cute — "a cool summer night (and this sweet breeze)" / holly/willow + jay/kestrel

the power of family — "hallelujah to the grace, and the body, and every cell of us" / jaypaw becomes a warrior

alone at the top — "denoucement" / leopardstar deals with life after tigerclan (requested by anon)

despair event horizon — "mesothelioma" / stolag AU barkface (short) one-shot

bodyguard crush — "ferromagnetic" / hollypaw is held on riverclan, guarded by willowpaw.

big "why?!" — "running out of rosemary" / a conversation between cloud and thyme, set before "relativistic"

buried alive — "you are my fate, my sweet" / snowfur finds mosskit (hitds au)

antagonist in mourning — "the sun won't shine on the both of us" / au where tigerclaw is swiftpaw's father (requested by anon)

in love with love — "astatine" / leafpool leaves; squirrelflight doesn't know where to go.

mind control — "howling ghosts, they reappear" / squirrelflight wakes up next to bramblestar, and she can't tell if it's him [2]

not cancelled, but this ended up wanting to be a longer au, so i'm moving it to major projects becuase the first chapter is leafpaw perspective ↩︎

all of my mind control ideas are like, projects i don't want to bang out in two hours, so this is more "questioning sanity." but if you have proper mind control suggestions, feel free to provide. ↩︎

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talonslockau · 10 months ago

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Forest of Secrets - Chapter 6

Chapter 5 || Index || Chapter 7

“Where have you two been?”

Fireheart was just dropping his kill on the pile when he heard the furious rumble of Tigerclaw behind him. Turning around, he looked up to the treacherous deputy’s amber gaze with a polite smile. “Hunting, of course. Did Graystripe not tell you?”

The tabby’s glare narrowed. “He did.” The ginger tom forced himself not to cower under the other’s growl. “But he also said that you were going after a rabbit warren. That hardly looks like a rabbit to me.” He pointed one long, razor-sharp claw out at the mole that Fireheart had laid in the freshkill pile.

“It ended up being stale. Another patrol must have gotten to it first.” Peppermask mewed as she added her own kills to the pile. “We didn’t want to return empty-pawed, of course, so we kept hunting. The Clan needs freshkill now more than ever, after all.” She turned to Tigerclaw with an equally polite smile. “Isn’t that what you keep saying?”

His face twisted into a snarl at her words. “That doesn’t mean you can just go cavorting around doing whatever pleases you! You need to have respect for your Clan, and your deputy-”

“Tigerclaw.” They both startled as Bluestar interrupted them, sliding past the lichen strands of her den to interject in their conversation. “They have done well taking initiative to feed the Clan. They informed us of their whereabouts through Graystripe, and as you surely know, the health of the Clan is what matters above all else.”

“Yes, well-” The leader’s sudden appearance had removed Tigerclaw’s authority in the situation, and he scowled at the realization. “See to it that it doesn’t happen again.” He spat at the two young warriors before whirling around and stalking away across camp.

Bluestar watched him leave with a bemused expression before turning to the two warriors. “Of course, I expect both of you to still perform your duties today to your fullest ability.”

“We will, Bluestar.” Fireheart replied with a respectful dip of his head. “But I must see Yellowfang first. I got a thorn stuck in my paw, and even Peppermask couldn’t get it out…”

The silver queen stifled an obvious sigh. “Of course. Go on, then.” She flicked her tail to send them on their way, and the two quickly scuttled away to the healer’s den, nosing their way inside before any cat could call for them.

“You’re back.” Dewpaw was already awake and sorting herbs as they entered. Her mew caused Yellowfang to rouse from her slumber, opening one copper eye to inspect the two new arrivals. “Did you talk with him, then?”

“We did.” Fireheart replied, glancing around the den. Aside from the four of them, it was empty. “We didn’t get as many answers as we’d hoped, but we did get a lead.”

“Do tell.” Yellowfang growled dryly as she stood up and stretched out her back. “I hope it doesn’t involve more of Starclan’s interference.”

“No, but it does involve something almost as bad.” Peppermask sighed as she sat down, her tail twitching. “Talking to Riverclan.”

“Because of the battle?” Dewpaw asked, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You don’t suppose any of them saw Tigerclaw kill Redtail?”

Her sister shook her head. “No, not exactly. Remember how Tigerclaw said Oakheart killed Redtail, and he killed Oakheart? Well, if he killed Redtail…”

“Then who killed Oakheart?” The healer’s apprentice perked her ears forward in surprise. “I never thought about that. You don’t suppose it was Tigerclaw as well?”

“Ravenspirit actually thought it could have been Redtail.” Fireheart responded. “He last saw them fighting, and when he next saw Redtail he was yowling about how Oakheart was dead. But that’s not the interesting part-”

“Just before he died, Oakheart stopped Redtail from attacking Stonestep.” The spotted warrior beside him interrupted, tail beginning to swish back and forth. “He said, ‘you of all cats know better than to attack that warrior’, or something like that. Ravenspirit wasn’t very sure.”

Even Yellowfang seemed baffled by the statement. “What is that supposed to mean? ‘’That warrior’?” The old healer wondered out loud. “It’s too bad we can’t ask Redtail himself. Surely he has some idea what that must mean.”

“We have to settle for the next best thing.” Peppermask responded evenly. “I’m friends with Stonestep’s sister, Mistyskip. I think if any cat might know what Oakheart meant, it would be her. Hopefully one of us will be able to go to the next Gathering, and be able to ask her directly.”

“I won’t be able to get Bluestar’s intervention this time, though.” Fireheart sighed, glancing out of the healer’s den towards the Highrock where the leader’s den was. “She made it very clear that she gave me an exception for the Gathering because of our special mission.”

“Then we’ll have to get invited on our own merit.” Peppermask replied, flattening her ears in stubborn determination. “We can even make it a competition. Like our first Gathering, remember?” She nudged the ruddy tom beside her with a smirk.

“Oh, I remember. That was the moon Yellowfang came to Thunderclan.” He glanced at the old molly with a teasing grin. “And she hasn’t let me forget about it since!”

The former Shadowclanner hissed and cuffed Fireheart’s ears lightly. “Oh, get out of here, both of you! Dewpaw and I have real work to do with you two lazing about my den.”

“Alright, alright! We’ll see you around, Dewpaw, Yellowfang.” Fireheart purred to the two as he stood and turned to leave, the other warrior quickly following after him. The sun was beginning to peek over the treetops, bringing desperately needed warmth to the camp below. Cats were beginning to slide out of their dens as the Clan woke up to a fresh new dawn.

“Well, I think I’ll take a quick nap. Knowing Tigerclaw, he’s probably got us on the afternoon border patrols.” Peppermask mewed beside him, gently tapping his flank with his tail. “What about you? Coming with?”

He shook his head sadly. “If Tigerclaw catches me sleeping, he’ll claw my ears right off for daring to have the nerve. No, I think I’ll take care of the elders for Cinderpaw. I’m sure she’s tired from the Gathering last night and will appreciate having at least a little less to do today.”

The tabby molly nodded in understanding. “I’m sure she will.” He noticed her green eyes narrow a little bit, as though suddenly suspicious. “You’ve been awfully nice to her lately. Back when we were all apprentices, you seemed barely able to stand her. What’s changed your mind?”

He blinked in surprise at the accusatory tone in her question. Why had she become so barbed? “To be honest, I feel terrible for her. She’s the only one of us that’s still an apprentice, and the only one that didn’t get to go on the search for Windclan with us. She’s been very bitter lately, and I don’t blame her.” He sighed as he glanced towards their old den. She wasn’t sitting by the tree stump, waiting for Mistspring to wake up; perhaps she had been assigned to the dawn patrol. “I just want to show her we haven’t forgotten about her.”

The other warrior was silent for a few moments. “She has been pretty lonely lately, huh? Especially since Snowkit hasn’t been named an apprentice yet.” The mention of the kit sent a shiver down Fireheart’s spine. She clearly didn’t know the truth either. “I keep waiting for Bluestar to announce her ceremony, but maybe Mistspring doesn’t think she’s ready yet.”

“That’s what she was worried about when I talked to her the other day.” He finally looked back to the apprentice’s sister, whose brow was furrowed as she also focused on the apprentices’ den. “You don’t really think Mistspring would do that, do you?”

Peppermask was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know.” She finally admitted. “Being a warrior is as much about understanding the warrior code and Clan life as it is about hunting or fighting. Maybe she thinks Cinderpaw hasn’t fully understood that yet.”

As much as he wanted to deny that, he understood what she was saying. Every decision that a warrior made affected the Clan as a whole as well. Cinderpaw could be quick, and clever, and strong, but she was also very impulsive; he could see her making a decision that would imperil the Clan all too easily, without realizing the consequences.

“Anyways.” Peppermask’s voice shook him out of his reverie. “Hopefully you’ll have an easy time with the elders. With leafbare coming, at least they won’t have so many fleas and ticks soon.” She gave him a wave with her tail as she headed for the warriors’ den to sleep.

He replied in kind as he also stood and padded across camp, this time to the elders’ den. He gave Patchpelt, who was stretching out in the morning light, a nod as he entered the hollow tree of their den. He carefully avoided several sleeping elders as he began to change out the stale moss of the old nests, his mind beginning to wander back to the conversation they’d had with Ravenspirit.

A moon would be a long time to wait until the Gathering began, but they said prey ran over the paws of those who waited patiently. He just had to hope that this time, the wait would be worth it.

#talonslock #warrior cats #the prophecies begin #fanfic #thunderclan #fireheart #peppermask #tigerclaw #dewpaw #yellowfang #bluestar #talonslock story #forest of secrets

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twilights-800-cats · 2 years ago

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<< Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 6

Crowflight and the others made their way back to the Arrival as the moon climbed high into the sky, silent and determined. Their pawsteps were quick and light, and the chill in the air didn’t bother them – they had accomplished their mission, and the excitement of telling their Clanmates about their new homes was bigger than an impending leafbare could ever be.

They dodged around the patch of land that crumbled away into the lake and headed uphill towards the fallen tree stump and clumps of bushes where the Clans were currently sheltering. Silhouetted against the faint moonlight, Crowflight could make out cats moving here and there between the bushes. He tried to guess who they were, but it was impossible, and the mingled scents of the Clans coming down from the hills meant even less.

A pair of lookouts spotted them quickly, however, and Crowflight recognized them at least by voice – Thornpaw of his own Clan, and Smokepaw of ShadowClan. The two ought to have been asleep at this time of night, by Crowflight’s guess, but awake they were, and they were positioned on the high point of one of the hills bordering the Clan’s temporary camp.

“They’re back!” Thornpaw yowled into the night. She turned and cried, “The patrol’s come back!”

There was an immediate stirring in the shadows. Cats poured out from every bush, behind every hill, and suddenly, before the patrol had even stepped paw into the camp proper, they were surrounded.

“What’d you find?” Dustpelt of ThunderClan demanded, his pale eyes glaring at Mistyfoot. “Plenty of trees?”

“Do we have homes?” Heavystep, a RiverClan warrior, was looking at Tawnypelt. “Is there room for us here?”

“What’d you see?” asked another cat.

“I want to hear!” cried an apprentice. “Tell me, tell me!”

Crowflight pressed himself against Stoneheart. The patrol was barraged with questions from understandably eager cats, but that didn’t make it any less annoying or intrusive, especially when Crowflight wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep off his tired paws.

The others were just as shocked and overwhelmed, pressing together into a tight ball. How could they possibly answer all of these questions? Crowflight bristled, wondering if he might have to swat some cat on the muzzle if they got too close to him.

A commanding yowl saved them: “Enough!”

It was Leopardstar. The dappled she-cat pushed her way through the crowd, her presence – and the presence of Russetstar, Tinystar, and Mudclaw just behind her – quieting the group of eager warriors. Leopardstar’s amber eyes flashed and she glared at the surrounding cats until they took at least two steps back each.

“There's no need to crowd,” Tinystar offered, his tone and demeanor more amicable than Leopardstar’s. His ice blue eyes lighted on each cat from the patrol. “They’ve a lot to tell us, I presume, and you’ll hear all the details soon enough!”

Russetstar was nodding in agreement. “We’ll convene with the members of the patrol and hear their reports,” she stated firmly. Her gaze rested solely on Stoneheart. “We’ll take what they’ve told us and approximate our territories from there.”

“And then we can leave,” Mudclaw finished. His eyes burned into Crowflight, and Crowflight resisted the urge to shrink beneath his former mentor’s gaze.

Mudclaw stood on no more ceremony – he flicked his tail at Crowflight and then headed off into the night. Crowflight swallowed. He’d wanted to tell Shadepaw all he’d seen first, not Mudclaw; but he couldn’t see her in the crowd – she was probably with the other medicine cats, talking about their own issues. He'd have to talk to her later – Mudclaw didn’t like to wait.

The patrol split. Tawnypelt followed Leopardstar towards the lake shore, and Crowflight caught sight of Falcontail’s shape slinking away from the crowd to join them. Tinystar summoned his senior warriors with a flick of his tail, ushering them, Mistyfoot, and Nightfrost away towards where the bushes were thickest. Russetstar brought Blackfoot and Wolftooth with her as she and Stoneheart made their way towards the tree stump.

Crowflight’s pelt prickled. He didn’t like the way they were all huddling in secret, but there was nothing for it now. Lines had to be drawn. The four Clans had to be four once more, no matter what. He got to his paws and hurried after Mudclaw, leaving the remaining cats, disappointed to not have been chosen for the discussion, to speculate.

Mudclaw met him on the top of the farthest bordering hill, with Onewhisker and Ashfoot. Crowflight greeted his mother with a short purr and a touch of the nose before he sat down before them. He curled his tail around his paws, hoping that he could hide his nerves. He’d never been singled out in a positive way before, not by Mudclaw.

“Tell us what you found.” Mudclaw’s tone was simple, cutting right to it.

Crowflight swallowed. Suddenly his mouth felt too dry to speak. He glanced at Ashfoot and Onewhisker, both of whom look far more eager to hear what he had to say than Mudclaw did. He took their curiosity as confidence.

“The moorland here is vast,” Crowflight began. “It seems to go on forever – there's far more land here than WindClan will ever need.”

“How was prey running?” Onewhisker asked.

“It seemed to run just fine,” Crowflight responded. “It was plentiful, for this time of year. The prey here hasn’t had to deal with Clans before, though, so once we establish ourselves hunting might become harder.”

Onewhisker nodded in agreement, his gaze turning thoughtful.

Ashfoot was next, her eyes curious, “Were there any dangers?”

Crowflight thought of the two kittypets, Jaques and Susan, and grimaced. Thankfully they would be firmly on the other side of the lake – ShadowClan's problem, presumably.

He responded, “We didn’t get a chance to explore every whisker of the land, but in our territory, and in the camp I found, I scented nothing out of the ordinary.”

“We’ll have to scour the entire moor,” Ashfoot mewed thoughtfully. “Daunting, but not impossible!” Crowflight thought he saw an adventurous gleam in his mother’s eye. It made her look much younger, and happier.

“Tell us about the camp,” Onewhisker mewed, his eyes brightening. “Please!”

Crowflight glanced at Mudclaw. So far, the deputy had not asked anything. It was so difficult to read the brown tabby’s gaze. Wasn’t he at all curious? Was he angry? Had Crowflight done something wrong?

All he could do was go on: “The spot I found was a small clearing surrounded by a few high hills. There’s plenty of rocks for sentry points, and it’s well-hidden from outside view. There’s a large rowan growing out of one of the hills, and I think it’ll provide good cover when it blooms again. There’s a lot of gorse and brambles to clear out, but once we do I think there’ll be more than enough space for us all.”

Mudclaw spoke, finally: “Did the others see the camp?”

Crowflight flicked an ear. “Uh... no,” he answered. “I discovered it on my own.” He decided to leave out the bit about failing the catch the rabbit – from Mudclaw’s intense expression, he guessed that wouldn’t be prudent.

“Good,” Mudclaw decided. “Did you see the other’s prospective camps?”

Crowflight bristled at his hackles. “Yes,” he admitted. What was Mudclaw getting at?

Mudclaw didn’t say anything further on it, however: “We’ll scout out this camp of yours in the morning, but it sounds suitable. In the meantime, tell me about the territory – what areas would make good borders?”

Crowflight blinked, confused. Suitable? That’s all you have to say?

Crowflight forced his voice to be even as he meowed on, “Well, I don’t know what’ll make a good border on this side of the lake, but I doubt we’ll need territory beyond that horseplace over there. On the ThunderClan side, though, there’s a decently large river that cuts into the forest – it doesn’t bend too far in any direction, so I think that might be a good, easy border with them.”

Mudclaw frowned. He glanced out across the lake, though Crowflight guessed he probably couldn’t see much in the darkness. "That leaves some forest on our side, no?” he guessed.

“It does,” Crowflight explained, “but not much.”

“Good,” Mudclaw grunted.

Onewhisker’s tail curled around his paws. “I don’t know,” he mewed. “It sounds like we’ll have more than enough land. Do we need the forest?”

Mudclaw flashed the smaller warrior a scrutinizing look. Ashfoot, however, offered, “We can figure out the details later. Right now, I think the simplest solution is best for the borders, no? At least until the others figure out what they want? We don’t want to start fights for nothing.”

Crowflight had to agree, nodding alongside his mother. There was no need to get overcomplicated right now, when the territories were so new. Onewhisker, seemingly oblivious to the glare he was getting from Mudclaw, shrugged and grunted in agreement.

Mudclaw gave no opinion, only lashed his tail. “I’ll go and speak with the other leaders.”

Without another word he was off, heading for the tree stump. Russetstar was already there, but Crowflight could see Leopardstar and Tinystar coming away from their own conversations to join them.

“They’ll be talking most of the night, I’ll bet,” Onewhisker sighed. He perked up and mewed, “Well! Glad it’s not me! I’d hate to have to negotiate anything with Leopardstar...”

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Crowflight?” Ashfoot suggested. “You must be exhausted.”

Crowflight frowned. He'd been too excited to bring the news of their territory back to his Clanmates to think much about how tired he was. He could feel sleep pulling hard at his paws now, and he nodded to his mother wordlessly. Ashfoot looked at him with a fond, proud expression that made Crowflight’s pelt warm, and she licked his forehead.

Crowflight turned away from his mother and Onewhisker and headed back into WindClan’s part of the camp – but he didn’t get far before he was being badgered by his Clanmates about their territory.

“Tell us!” Thornpaw was begging. “I want to hear about the camp!”

Weaselpaw and Thistlepaw were beside her, their eyes round and eager. Thistlepaw piped up, “Please!”

“I want to know the best spot to hunt!” Smokewillow mewed.

“Are we getting any of those trees?” wondered Bramblefur.

Tornear curled his lip. “I hope not!”

Softbreeze nodded in agreement. “WindClan has never needed trees!”

“Well, I hope we have enough territory,” Webfoot grumbled. “Those others are going to take all they can, for sure!”

Emberstep took a step towards Crowflight. “Well? What’s it like?” Duskwhisker was a shadow behind her, looking just as curious as everyone else.

Crowflight wasn’t sure what to do. He was so tired, but they wanted to know so badly, and when was the last time his Clanmates had looked at him so eagerly? Certainly not for a long, long time!

“Excuse me,” a polite mew said.

Crowflight sniffed. Shadepaw’s scent crossed his nose, warm and comforting, just before the tortoiseshell cat appeared from the shadows.

“I’m not a full medicine cat yet, but I can say for certain that Crowflight is very tired from his journey,” Shadepaw meowed, her tone crisp. “You should let him rest – there'll be plenty of time to ask questions in the morning; and not only that, you’ll be able to explore your territories for yourselves soon enough!”

The apprentices groaned collectively, along with Emberstep, Duskwhisker, and the other younger warriors, but Tornear and Webfoot were nodding in agreement, looking apologetically at Crowflight, as if they regretted badgering him. They all stepped away, and Crowflight felt Shadepaw press against his shoulder as she guided him towards a quiet, grassy spot further away from the crowd.

They lay down together in the field, and Crowflight rolled onto his back. Above he could see the stars, shining brilliantly in the dark sky. He spotted the Father, and noted that it seemed like it was right above the lake, brighter than any star in Silverpelt. It had been so far away before – what would it be like, laying almost beneath it now?

Shadepaw lay her head on her paws. “You’ve had quite the adventure,” she mewed. “Nightfrost told me some of it. You fought kittypets?”

“Yeah,” Crowflight sighed. His pelt shivered at the thought. “One tried to take off Stoneheart’s head!”

Shadepaw cringed. “That sounds awful,” she admitted. “Mistyfoot was really scratched up. She’ll be okay, but I can’t imagine living near them!”

Crowflight shrugged. “It’s gonna be ShadowClan’s problem, I’ll bet,” he sighed, nestling into the grass. “It’s deep in the pines, I don’t think they can reasonably pin them on ThunderClan.”

Shadepaw poked him with a paw. “That’s not nice,” she chided.

“What?” Crowflight blinked at her, turning his head to face Shadepaw. She did indeed look a little cross, and Crowflight felt badly about that, but: “They’ll be across the lake from WindClan. What could we do to help them?”

Shadepaw’s crossness faded to sorrow at his point sorely made. “I wish we weren’t separating,” she murmured. “Feathertail and Stormfur are gone, and now it feels like I’ll lose Stoneheart, and you, too...”

Crowflight felt a pang in his gut as her eyes shimmered with emotion. He rolled onto his belly, wrapping his body around her. “I don’t want to part, either,” he murmured, laying his head beside her forepaws. “But you’re a medicine cat, and we’re warriors. Medicine cats don’t see borders so rigidly, but if the rest of us can’t go back to being warriors who follow the warrior code...”

“I know,” Shadepaw sighed. She laid her head down on her paws, their whiskers tickling one another. “There must always be four Clans. I know that. But, after all this... does that really make sense anymore?”

Crowflight frowned. “Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t,” he reasoned, something uncomfortable wiggling in his stomach, “but do you really think we’d all be able to work together forever? There’s just too much that makes each Clan different for that to work.”

Shadepaw said nothing, but Crowflight sensed her grumbling inside. He wished he could console her, but just the fact that they were laying here together was probably drawing attention. It was best not to go further than that, especially since the Clans were separating, and doing it tomorrow morning, in fact.

“Did you guys see anything strange on your patrol?” Shadepaw asked. “Like, any weird landmarks or stones?”

Crowflight shook his head, after thinking back. “Just some Twoleg stuff,” he answered simply. “Why?”

Shadepaw sighed. “We’re so far away from the Moonstone, now,” she explained, lowering her voice. The cats around them were coming down from their excitement, each finding a place to sleep within their own Clans. Crowflight could hear kits complaining about that not far off, but that was nothing compared to the realization that had just dawned on him due to Shadepaw’s words.

“C-Can’t you just go back there?” he wondered.

Shadepaw looked troubled. “We don’t know,” she mewed, her eyes glittering with a new concern, “and it’s so far. If we’re to see StarClan every half-moon, it’s just not a practical journey to make. We’d be gone longer than we’d be in our own Clans! And what if StarClan isn’t at the Moonstone anymore? If they came with us on their own Great Journey, they’re here now, not there.”

Crowflight swallowed around a lump in his throat. He hadn’t even thought of any of that – the privilege of being a warrior, he supposed. Still, “If we can't speak with StarClan...”

Shadepaw guessed his line of thinking: “We might not be able to stay here.”

Crowflight bristled. “But StarClan led us here!” he hissed, lifting his muzzle from his paws. They can’t mean to bring us all this way, put us through so much, only to have us pick up and leave again! How many cats would they lose if they had to go on a second Great Journey? Would the four Clans even be four Clans at the end?

Shadepaw covered his muzzle with a paw. “Hush!” she insisted, eyes wide and worried. “And, yes, we all know that. But if we can’t speak to them, how do we really know their intentions?”

“So, we need a new Moonstone,” Crowflight concluded.

Shadepaw nodded. “We do.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “But... that’s not for warriors to worry about, I suppose.”

Crowfight fought to keep his voice down: “Fox-dung! You’re worried about it, aren't you? That’s enough for me!”

“Mouse-brain!” Shadepaw chuckled. Amusement lit her gaze, and her whiskers twitched. “Be quiet, will you? I’m sure it’ll sort itself out, if this is where we’re meant to be. And it is, I’m sure of it! So, get some sleep!”

Crowflight opened his jaws to argue, but Shadepaw’s firm gaze made him clamp his muzzle shut. He felt a rush of affection for the she-cat as he laid his head back down at his paws. The idea of having no means of communicating with StarClan was very worrying, but Shadepaw did have a point – it would sort itself out, if this was where the Clans were meant to be.

He closed his eyes, breathing in Shadepaw’s scent. It wasn’t up to him to think about anything beyond that – he was just a warrior, after all.

If anyone can figure it out, it's Shadepaw.

———————————————————

Crowflight was awake at dawn, and found that Shadepaw was gone. He sighed, lamenting her loss, but he got to his paws. After last night’s conversation and what today marked for the Clans, it made sense that Shadepaw would be on her paws already. There was much to do.

She’s probably with Brackenfur or Mothwing, he thought. Shadepaw had been assigned to help the RiverClan medicine cat on the journey, after she’d lost her mentor Mudfur to old age not long after her own training had begun. That meant looking after two Clans worth of cats! Crowflight certainly didn’t envy that amount of responsibility.

He breathed in the air. Some cats were missing, presumably on last-minute hunting patrols, but not many. The Clans were milling about, excited, waking up those that were still dozing. He spotted Nightfrost being barraged by Spiderpaw and Whitepaw, probably about their new territory. Stoneheart was with Rowanclaw, the two mates grooming one another’s sleep away while Finchsong’s kits bounced around them. A flash of blue-gray by the stump told him that Mistyfoot was talking with Tinystar, their heads bent and voices quiet.

Crowflight searched for his own Clanmates. While the other Clans were organizing themselves for the journey ahead, WindClan was, to Crowflight’s surprise, doing nothing of the sort. His Clanmates were gathered up, yes, but they were huddled about a tree’s length away from the bush where Tallstar was resting, and no cat seemed excited to move out – a stark contrast to the night before, where they hadn’t been able to stop bothering Crowflight about their new home.

Confused, Crowflight trotted over to his mother. Ashfoot was with Poppyfoot and Softbreeze, their gazes fixed on Tallstar’s resting place. Crowfight peered between the branches and spotted Barkface’s dark shape inside the makeshift den. There was another cat in there, too, but Crowflight couldn’t make them out.

“What’s going on?” Crowflight wondered.

The leaves rustled, and Tornear stepped out of the den. The older tom looked immeasurably sad, and he sat down beside Webfoot, his chin low. Duskwhisker rose and took his place, her dark pelt disappearing into Tallstar’s den.

Ashfoot blinked at her son. “Tallstar is dying,” she meowed quietly. “His last life is slipping away.”

“W-What?!” The words caught in Crowflight’s throat.

Softbreeze nodded. “We’re saying our good-byes,” she explained.

Duskwhisker slid out of the den, her expression dark. She padded over to the side, wrapping her tail around her paws, alone. Whitetail slipped in, next.

Crowflight felt like choking, his eyes fixated on Tallstar’s den. This can’t be happening! He thought. It was something every cat in WindClan knew would happen soon, but it was so unfair! He should be able to see his Clan in their new camp! He’s come this far already, wouldn’t a few more steps be just fine?

“Almost every cat has seen him,” Ashfoot explained. “We’re not sure if we’ll be able to hold a proper vigil.” Her gaze softened on him. “Go on, Crowflight. Tell him about where we’ll be living.”

“He’d like that,” Poppyfoot agreed. Softbreeze nodded, too.

Crowflight swallowed. Was he the last cat to see Tallstar off? His paws trembled, and time seemed to stretch on and on, into forever. This was so incredibly unfair! It only felt like yesterday that Tallstar had given him his full name, and back then he had seemed so strong!

I’m the last warrior that Tallstar will ever have named, he realized. Oh, StarClan...

Whitetail emerged from the den, and Ashfoot nudged Crowflight forward. “Tell him, Crow,” Ashfoot murmured into his ear. “Tell him we’ll be okay.”

Crowflight had no choice. He moved through the crowd as if his paws were stuck in a peat bog, sluggish and slow. His Clanmates that weren’t privately grieving turned their gazes to him, their eyes piercing like claws, but Crowflight couldn’t focus on that.

What did one say to their leader as he lay dying?

He pushed his way into the bush. It was warm inside, the shelter bolstered against the chill by a hasty wall of bracken and moss that covered any gaps. Barkface was there, dabbing at Tallstar’s forehead with a soaked ball of moss.

Crowflight could tell by Tallstar’s expression that no medicine would help him now. His eyes were unfocused, pale and staring far-away, crusted with sleep, the white fur of his muzzle stained by running liquid. His body was stretched out, his ribs poking through his pelt, his side shivering with every breath he struggled to take. The light in his eye was fading, barely visible at all.

When Crowflight entered, Tallstar tried to raise his head, but failed. “Deadfoot?” he rasped, chin falling, “Is... is that you?”

The words stung. Crowflight swallowed, glancing at Barkface, who looked just as stunned. Crowflight’s father had been Tallstar’s deputy before Mudclaw, dying in the battle against BloodClan at Fourtrees in the old forest before Crowflight had even been born. Not only that, but Tallstar and Deadfoot had been mentor and apprentice – they'd been very close friends.

It might’ve been sweet, once, to be confused for Deadfoot; but now it only showcased how far gone Tallstar’s mind was. “It’s Crowflight,” he corrected gently. “Not... not Deadfoot.

Tallstar blinked. “Ah,” he sighed. “I see, now. Your eyes... your mother’s eyes...”

Crowflight edged closer to the old black-and-white tom. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts – he didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“I’ve found us a home,” he began tentatively, glancing at the medicine cat. When Barkface nodded for him to go on, Crowflight began to describe all he had seen to Tallstar. He was by no means a good storyteller, but Tallstar’s eyes widened, even sparkled, at Crowflight’s words, and that spurred the younger warrior on. Perhaps he embellished a detail or two, to make Tallstar’s imagination run wild one last time, but it was worth it to see his dying leader’s face light up with a life that had been fading for moons.

Tallstar laid his chin down when Crowflight was done and sighed. “It sounds... lovely,” he breathed. “So, so lovely...”

“It will be,” Crowflight said.

“I want WindClan to have a new start,” Tallstar went on. “This place... it’s the perfect time. Isn’t it? Things have changed... things must change...”

Crowflight swallowed. Barkface dabbed at Tallstar’s forehead and murmured, “Easy, Tallstar. Save your breath...”

“No,” Tallstar groaned. His expression grew alert, intense. “I am leader of WindClan yet,” he rasped. “I will not see... blood upon the heather.” His eyes locked onto Barkface. “Fetch Onewhisker.”

Barkface dropped his moss ball, shocked. “T-Tallstar! You mustn’t-”

“You heard me!” Tallstar growled, his eyes narrowing. “Do it! And you!”

Crowflight stood stiff, shocked by the surge of energy Tallstar was experiencing. “Me?” he said clumsily.

“Get me Tinystar,” Tallstar meowed. “And-” he broke off to cough, “hurry!”

Once again Crowflight looked to Barkface, who must’ve been just as shocked as Crowflight, if not more so. Still, though, the old medicine cat’s hackles fell, and he sighed to Crowflight, “It’s what he wants. And he is right – he's still our leader...”

“I am!” Tallstar huffed, resting his chin on the side of his nest. “So why are you both still here?!”

Crowflight jumped to his paws, and Barkface was scrambling, too. He tried not to bolt out of the den – that would’ve attracted too much attention – but his expression wasn’t something he could easily contain as he stumbled towards the ThunderClan cats outside.

What’s going on? He wondered. He would obey Tallstar, for sure, but what did he have in mind?

“What’s up with you?” asked a sharp voice – Duskwhisker, whom Crowflight had nearly barreled into. She looked cross, her mourning interrupted by his carelessness. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry!” Crowflight breathed.

He darted around her and took off at a run, pushing through ThunderClan cat after ThunderClan cat until he reached their heart, where Tinystar was sitting, chatting with Mistyfoot beside the stump. Beyond the complaints of her Clanmates, it was Mistyfoot who turned to him and mewed, “Crowflight? What’s wrong?”

“Tallstar is dying,” he breathed. He looked to ThunderClan’s leader. “He wants to see you, Tinystar.”

Tinystar’s expression turned to sadness, though his eyes sparked with intrigue. “Very well,” he meowed. “Mistyfoot, let’s finish our conversation on the way...”

Crowflight sat by while the two padded off, heading directly for Tallstar’s nest. Crowflight followed, unable to bear the annoyed and concerned looks he was getting from the other ThunderClan cats. He arrived in time to see Tinystar enter the den – there was a yowl from Tallstar, and Mistyfoot, surprised, joined her leader inside.

What’s that about? Crowflight wondered, sitting down on his haunches. Not long after, the rising sun turning them both yellow, Barkface and Onewhisker appeared. Barkface tried to enter, but had to step back – Crowflight tensed. Tallstar had denied his own medicine cat entrance?

By now it was clear to everyone that something was happening. Barkface, however, refused to allow any WindClan cats inside, and the other three Clans were gathering up at a respectful distance, their eyes curious.

Crowflight resented that. How dare they stick their muzzles into WindClan affairs? But Tallstar had asked for Tinystar, he thought. The two leaders were famously friendly, but something about it still rubbed Crowflight’s pelt the wrong way.

“What’s happening?” demanded Tornear. “Why’s Tinystar in there?”

“Where’s Mudclaw?” asked Whitetail. The small white she-cat peered through the crowd. “Is he still out hunting?”

Crowflight’s heart hammered in his chest. There was no sign of Mudclaw at all. Where was WindClan’s deputy when they needed him most? He’ll be our leader soon... he needs to be here!

“I’ll go fetch him!” Thornpaw chimed. Before any cat could protest, she shot off, heading towards the horseplace.

“I’ll go with her,” Emberstep sighed. "Apprentices!” The dark she-cat brushed past Crowflight, her paws pounding to catch up to Thornpaw.

Crowflight turned his attention back to Tallstar’s den. Some cats were creeping closer, ears swiveled to eavesdrop, and frustration at his own Clanmates welled up inside Crowflight.

“What are you, queens at a Gathering?” he snarled, stepping forward. He glared at his Clanmates, at Webfoot and Smokewillow, who seemed intent to get closer. “These are Tallstar’s final moments, and you want to spy?”

The two warriors slunk back, tails low. Crowflight positioned himself between the den and his Clanmates, his stance firm and his tail lashing. Whatever Tallstar was saying, he couldn’t hear it – but he would defend his leader’s right to say it in private. They were his last words, after all.

It felt like ages before there were any developments. When the bush finally rustled, it was sunhigh. Most of the non-WindClan cats had gone off to arrange their own affairs, the move to their new territories delayed for certain but not put off completely yet. Mudclaw still had not returned, and neither had Emberstep nor Thornpaw, who were still searching for him on unfamiliar ground.

Crowflight moved aside, his muscles tense as he watched the bush. Onewhisker and Mistyfoot came out as one, and draped between them was the body of Tallstar, limp, his paws and long tail dragging against the grass.

A gasp of shock and horror rippled through the crowd of WindClan cats. Crowflight’s heart sank. He’s gone, he thought dismally. He’s really gone.

He locked eyes with Mistyfoot, and found her expression... troubling. Onewhisker’s, too, was not the grief that Crowflight expected. Crowflight’s stomach twisted. What had happened?

As if to answer him, Tinystar appeared. His expression, at least, was fitting – full of sorrow for his old friend as he lifted his muzzle and announced: “Tallstar is dead.”

#tb au #tb starlight

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squirrelcrow-po3 · 4 years ago

Text

Into the Wild Rewrite: Prologue

← Allegiances | Chapter 1 →

Tufted ears pricked at the sound of scurrying across the yellowing, dead grass below. A dark brown form nearly pounced from the brush, but a darker figure had already claimed the rodent, clenching fur in their jaws. “Good job, Ravenpaw,” a voice called, slithering beside Tigerclaw and stepping from the sparse bush. “I see Spottedleaf is teaching you well.” The small black cat gave an enthusiastic nod. “Of course, Redtail! You know your sister is the smartest in the Clan,” the apprentice replied. The tortoiseshell gave a stifled laugh in response. “Yes, she never fails to remind me.”

Tigerclaw finally left the covering of the dead greenery to meet the other two cats. “This is a patrol - not time to chat,” he said with a grunt. Suddenly, a smaller molly leapt down from the tree branches above. “Oh calm down,” she said to the older warrior with a flick of her tail. “Ravenpaw already caught something, so we can relax.” Redtail stiffened slightly. “A mouse doesn’t feed our whole clan, Mousefur. You know this,” he sighed. The molly nodded gravely. The deputy turned to walk off, motioning with his tail for the others to follow. “Now, keep quiet. We’re approaching RiverClan territory.”

Ravenpaw padded after his mentor’s brother, trying to hide the scent of fear beginning to emanate from him. He had never been to the Sunning Rocks before, let alone so close to RiverClan. The group of cats stalked from the safety of the trees towards the river. The small black cat’s eyes lit up with the moonlight glittering off the rocks under his paws. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. His gaze was ripped upwards once the cats had spotted a plump vole by the riverbank. Tigerclaw’s posture quickly lowered into a crouch, preparing to spring onto the rodent. But again, a flash of fur swooped in and snatched the prey before he could strike. A frustrated growl bubbled in his throat, expecting one of his clanmates to celebrate their catch, before he realized who had caught the vole. “RiverClan!” he hissed, lunging forward at the foreign warrior.

The tortoiseshell snapped up. “Tigerclaw, no!” he screamed. The brown tabby lifted his head in confusion and whipped his head towards the water to see several cats snaking from the bank. He should have known more RiverClan warriors were lying in wait. “Ravenpaw! Get out of here!” the deputy shouted at the apprentice, who quickly scampered off into the bushes. He refused to let any apprentice, especially the medicine cat’s, to be injured in a border scuffle. Quickly, another tom tackled Tigerclaw off his clanmate. Most of the RiverClan warriors were unrecognizable to the ThunderClan cat, but he knew this one. How could he not? “Oakheart,” he hissed, “how dare you allow your Clan to hunt here? The Sunning Rocks belong to us.” The ruddy tom stifled a laugh. “After tonight, not anymore,” Oakheart said lowly. He raised up a paw to claw at him, but the larger ThunderClan cat kicked his legs into the other tom’s belly, pushing him off.

“ThunderClan, retreat!” Redtail announced, realizing that they were fighting a losing battle. Three warriors winning against a majority of RiverClan was not possible, no matter how much Redtail hated to admit defeat. The sound of yowling cats made Tigerclaw’s ears fall, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily. “Mousefur, help me!” he said, defying Redtail and running back towards the water and incoming RiverClan warriors. The molly glanced between her two clanmates before begrudgingly following after Tigerclaw. The deputy grumbled to himself before chasing them down the hill.

Tigerclaw had gone back after Oakheart, while Mousefur was fighting off two RiverClan warriors much larger than himself. Redtail saw that she was obviously losing, but stayed back for a moment. When one of the cats bit down on the dusty molly’s neck, he rushed in and shoved him off her. “Mousefur! Listen to me! Get out of here, now!” he screamed in her face. Her ears pinned against her head as she rushed off towards the treeline with her tail between her legs. The tortoiseshell then grabbed Tigerclaw by the scruff and tore the larger tom away from Oakheart. He didn’t need to say anything, just ran away from the river. The tabby glanced back to Oakheart with narrowed eyes before running after his clanmates. “RiverClan will never be defeated!” he heard a voice cry as he ducked into the shrubbery.

---

Bluestar’s paws were tense against the short grass as she gazed up at the sky. Another molly padded from her den and sat down beside her with a small, reassuring smile. “How is she?” the leader asked her. “Mousefur will heal in time. There is no need to worry, Bluestar,” the medicine cat responded, placing her tail on the other molly’s lower back to calm her.

“Thank you, Spottedleaf,” Bluestar said. “I just worry about Redtail and Tigerclaw… They haven’t returned with Ravenpaw.” She shook her head, her brows knitted together. “I knew they shouldn’t have gone but Tigerclaw insisted. ThunderClan hasn’t been beaten since I became leader.” Spottedleaf tried not to show that she was worried for her apprentice as well. “The first defeat after many victories is always the sourest,” she said, following Bluestar’s gaze up to the sky, “StarClan has been silent for the past moons.” The leader next to her sighed in defeat. Beyond that, silence rang between the two mollies.

Suddenly, light flooded the dark night sky, making Spottedleaf’s eyes go wide and fur stand on end. Visions of blazing storms ravaging the forest filled the mollies head; a small, starry cat was standing in the center of the destruction. The cat stepped forward, placing their paw in the center of the medicine cat’s chest. Their touch seemed gentle, but she felt like she was suffocating, the heat of the fire beating against her pelt and filled her chest. Words came from her trembling mouth as her sight was restored, returning her to ThunderClan’s camp. “Fire…” the tortoiseshell muttered, “fire alone will save our Clan.”

The leader gave her a quizzical look. “Fire?” she gawked, “fire only brings destruction to the forest… It would ruin our Clans!” Spottedleaf’s troubled expression only grew as she winced in pain. “I’m not sure what it means, Bluestar. But that is what StarClan wished for us to know.” The blue cat nodded solemnly, brushing her fur against the medicine cat’s to ease her. “Then it shall be. Fire will save our Clan.”

---

Tigerclaw didn’t dare say a word as he walked behind Redtail towards camp. Suddenly, the other tom stopped and turned his head. “I don’t think I have to say this, but I hope you realize the mistake you made tonight.” The brown tabby’s eyes glared down at the smaller cat.

“RiverClan was hunting on our territory, how could you allow that?” Tigerclaw snapped. “Our cats must be fed. Goldenflower and my kits must be fed.” He thought of his mate and kits back in camp. Redtail barely flinched at his clanmate’s harsh words. “And now they might not be because of you.” He flicked his tail dismissively. “Now get back to camp and apologize to Mousefur for almost getting her killed. You’ll be cleaning the elder’s den for this.” The idea of them going hungry pained him more than he could explain.

Tigerclaw couldn’t hold back a hiss. “I’m not a tiny apprentice you can boss around,” he spat, pushing past Redtail to pad into camp. The deputy didn’t take a moment to think before blurting out: “well you’re acting like one.” The brown tom growled, whipping his whole body towards Redtail. He had barely heard the rustling of tiny paws moving through the bushes as anger clouded his vision...

#warrior cats #warrior cats rewrite #into the wild

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