#mulleinberry

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Four: Chapter Five

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The wind kept up in the northern part of the valley, even as the clouds sailed away south and left the ground to swallow the rain puddles. Many cats tried and failed to fall asleep with the cold gusts punching at their sides and backs or finding the entrances to dens and whirling around inside before mischievously darting off.

The leaders had an advantage; their dens were all completely underground and extensively dug out, with tunnels and hollows connecting them. The wind tried to get in these tunnels and bother the sleeping leaders and their high deputies, but it couldn’t reach them and died once it hit the first bend.

This comfort did not help Fernstar. She was tightly curled up in a nest of down feathers and tightly-packed moss, perfectly warm and clean. Even still, she fidgeted and scrunched up her face, trying hard to summon StarClan to her before she fell asleep. She made a mental note to suggest to the other leaders finding a good seer to assist in situations like this. It was a marvel they hadn’t done so before.

But, then, fairly, in the past she hadn’t needed guidance so strongly that she called upon StarClan before she could go to the Lighthouse. Almost every leader she had ever worked with preferred to convene at the heart and soul of StarClan’s connection to the Clan. It was a guarantee that one could contact the exact souls needed for advice and be given the precise, complete, extensive answer needed for whatever situation the leader was in dire need of help with. And, generally, problems the leaders faced weren’t usually very dire to begin with. Handling them could be delayed enough for the day-to-two-day-long journey to the Lighthouse.

They had things so easy. It was a blessing. Why anyone would seek out to cause problems was without explanation, beyond young unaimed rebels, such as those two little groups of yearlings – the Coyotes and the Larrikins - that wandered around either playing pranks or seeking a fight. Adults doing something as stupid as trying to leave the safest place in the world, Fernstar couldn’t grasp.

StarClan, she thought, curling her body even tighter. I ask for your presence tonight. I need your guidance. I need… I need answers. Please…

She kept up that mantra for what felt like an eternity, until the weight of sleepiness settled over her and her mind’s trail of thoughts faded into scattered mumbles.

When she opened her eyes, she blinked. She had expected the general locale that she always saw: StarClan’s wonderful grassy meadow, circled by trees that were hidden in the shadows. The flowers, the scents, all of those symbols of peace and beauty. Every time she dreamt of her ancestors, she was here.

But something wasn’t right. She couldn’t precisely place what – everything looked and smelled the same on a cursory glance. There was just some little flickering feeling in the back of her head, some emotion or instinct that had long faded from relevance in her day-to-day life. What was it…? It had a name.

Fernstar shook herself and raised her head, calling out, “StarClan, I wish to speak with you! Please, make yourselves seen!”

All of a sudden was a shudder. Fernstar could not, and would never be able to explain exactly what kind of shudder it was. The land didn’t shake, the sky didn’t quiver, the wind didn’t pick up, she herself didn’t move. All the same, it was like the entirety of existence had shivered briefly and violently. Fernstar nearly stumbled where she stood, even with the lack of movement under her feet.

She turned her head back and forth, confused at the sensation. When she looked forward again, a plain fawn tom stood in front of her, smiling pleasantly. She relaxed and straightened up.

“Mulleinberry,” she said with a respectful dip of her head. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been a very long time.”

Mulleinberry smiled wider and nodded.

“I was hoping to…” Fernstar took a breath as she considered how to word things. “I’m conflicted, and I’m in need of advice. I’m sure you’ve watched everything going on by now, but…”

Mulleinberry twitched. Fernstar looked at him curiously before continuing.

“My deputy and our healer are on the run,” she continued. “They’ve said some curious things about you- all of StarClan, I mean- and they’ve gathered cats to go with them. I’m not sure if those cats believe the things they said, but I feel they must, if they’re traveling together. They said…” She shifted her stance and lowered her eyes, somewhat embarrassed to be repeating such rhetoric. “They called StarClan a monster. They said you’re keeping us all protected and happy so that we don’t leave, and so that you can…something or other. They-“

“You’re safe here,” Mulleinberry said, so clipped and sharp that Fernstar looked at him in surprise.

“I know that,” she said. “But the curious thing is that Greyleaf, the healer, said he’s seen what Redheart has. They both claim to have seen your real form, or something like that.”

“You’re safe here.” Mulleinberry’s pelt fluffed for a fraction of a heartbeat. “It’s too dangerous to go out there.”

Fernstar stared at him. Why was his voice so off? It had been warm and smooth whenever she usually spoke to him. Now he was speaking in a cheery monotone that felt as taut and forced as his smile.

“I’m not concerned about out there,” Fernstar said slowly. “I’m concerned about Redheart and Greyleaf. They-“

“Liars,” Mulleinberry rushed out. “It lies. They lie. They’ve seen nothing.”

His words would have been suspicious under any circumstances. It was everything else that was making Fernstar uneasy. He was stiff and almost stonelike. He wasn’t breathing, his eyes were widening and not focusing on her, and his voice was still monotone, falsely happy as it was.

Fernstar was not a fool. She didn’t believe Redheart’s story, beyond believing that the deputy had a troubled mind. She took things logically.

But Mulleinberry was acting odd. That couldn’t be ignored.

Perhaps a test.

Warily, she asked, “Am I speaking to Mulleinberry?”

A flashing light, the cracking of stones, a cry of pain-

And then-

What-

Fernstar jolted upright, almost rolling right out of her nest. She gasped in air she hadn’t realized she needed, and kept gasping, almost heaving, like she had been suffocating the entire time she was asleep. Something in her head was scrabbling for escape – something small and wailing, like a hurt kitten, trying to claw its way out. For an instant, she thought she heard another shriek, one of absolute terror, echoing in her ears. Within that instant, there was an urge to run away from…

From what?

That question was enough to shake Fernstar out of this whirlwind of emotions. Not completely - not with that unsettling dream still in her mind - but enough to help her calm her breathing and collect herself.

“Fernstar?”

She looked up just as a tortoiseshell head poked around the corner of her den’s entrance. Cedarstar’s orange eyes were lit by the tiniest moonlight streaming through a hole in the roof, and they shone with curiosity. And worry.

“Are you alright?” Cedarstar asked, voice hushed enough to not wake anyone else up. “I thought I heard you having a panic attack, or something.”

Fernstar, still trying to fully recover, cleared her throat and replied coolly, “I’m fine. I just had a bad dream.”

“Quite a bad dream, then.” Cedarstar tilted her head. “You were hyperventilating as I walked by. I thought I’d check on you. You’re sure you’re alright?”

Fernstar nodded, trying hard to look calm and at ease. “Perfectly fine. The dream startled me, that’s all.”

Cedarstar lifted a paw and gave Fernstar a questioning look. Fernstar sat up and the younger leader took that as permission to walk a few steps into the den.

“What did you dream about?” she asked. “Did StarClan send you a vision?”

Fernstar frowned a little, thinking on how to answer. “…I did see StarClan, but…something was wrong. Perhaps I just thought I saw StarClan, and it was a dream that went off the path.”

Cedarstar’s eyes lit up further, this time in interest. Fernstar decided she could do with some outsider input and gave her the full account, voice going a little faint when she got to the feelings she had waking up. Cedarstar didn’t interrupt, just listened intently until Fernstar closed her mouth.

“I’ve never heard of one of the paragons acting weird like that,” the tortoiseshell said. “Or… any StarClan cat, really. But then, I haven’t talked to them very much myself.”

“It’s a first for me,” Fernstar replied, suppressing a shudder. “Something was wrong with that dream, and I suppose it just frightened me enough to linger when I was awake.”

Cedarstar’s eyes faded a little. She wasn’t staring at Fernstar deliberately. Fernstar knew she was very deep in her thoughts; it was a look she usually had when an idea occurred to her. All there was to do was wait for her to come back.

She did, quickly enough. She peered at Fernstar, scrutinizing, then leaned in and spoke in a near whisper.

“You don’t suppose it has anything to do with what you heard about from Redheart and Greyleaf?” she asked.

Fernstar blinked. “I…didn’t think of that.”

“It was on my mind for a while, too,” Cedarstar whispered, a tad louder. “I was trying to figure out how they came to such a weird conclusion. You asked for advice about them from StarClan – maybe thinking about that ‘monster’ thing shook you up enough to give you a bad dream.”

“…That would make sense.” Fernstar let out a slow breath. “It certainly felt like StarClan’s usual dreams. But you’re probably right. I let that nonsense get to me.”

She was nowhere near as convinced of this as she sounded. The cries in her head still echoed, and Mulleinberry’s behavior was hardly explainable as the effects of a bad dream. Why would she see StarClan’s land and representative so perfectly normally, only for things to go wrong like that?

Cedarstar, however, seemed content with this. “We can always ask a seer to interpret it, if it happens again. Until then…” She glanced outside of the den. “I need to make dirt and go back to sleep.”

“You can do that,” Fernstar said. She flicked a paw softly. “Go ahead. Thank you for checking on me.”

Cedarstar turned and started to walk away. Then she paused and looked back. “Do you want me to keep this a secret?”

“For now.” Fernstar nodded, a cold weight in her stomach. “Just until I have time to think it over and decide what to do with it.”

Cedarstar bowed her head. With a “Goodnight”, she trotted out of the den again, disappearing down into a tunnel.

Fernstar didn’t watch her go. Her mind was circling the nightmare, wanting to poke at it but afraid of being struck with snake-like fangs and seeing it all over again. Even knowing it was a dream, and that nothing had hurt her…even then, she was frightened. She forced herself to lie down again and shut her eyes, but she did not sleep. She didn’t want to sleep.

She wanted to think.

So think she would.

[calitraditionalism]

Religion: The Paragons

Welcome, deputy. Are you ready to receive your gift?

The Clan’s leaders are all given nine lives, which marks the importance of their positions, as well as being a way to honor all the hard work they’ve done in their lives to get up to this rank. It was originally believed by warriors from back before the Union that eight cats that were significant to the deputy would each give one life, representing a trait of some kind that the deputy would need to rule their Clan wisely and well. A short while before the Clans became one, however, the word got out that leaders were now simply being visited by one cat who embodied the trait they needed the most and gave eight lives on their own. These cats have identified themselves over time, though no records of their presence in the living world can be found. They are each believed to represent one group in the Territory, even if they were not alive for that group to come into being.

PIPISTRELLEBRIGHT, PARAGON OF COMPASSION: A round, plump and soft-looking calico molly with fluffy fur, she is said to stand for the Marish. This is amusing to some, given that the Marish are seen as less than compassionate. She appears to leaders who are in need of understanding and empathy, both for themselves and for the cats they will be caring for across the Territory.

GEMHEART, PARAGON OF HONESTY: A young dark brown tabby tom with a white underside, white back legs and white feet. He was an apprentice who tragically died young because he stood up against the corruption running through his group. StarClan gave him his warrior name, and now he speaks for the cats of Versant. His gift inspires others to say their truths and fight against deception, especially within the higher ranks of the Clan.

ACORNSHINE, PARAGON OF RESILIENCE: A runty, golden-brown tabby tom, and a former seer of Brae. At a meeting with a new leader, he tells of his history: how he was a seer in a dark and difficult time for his family, and worked tirelessly to speak with StarClan and bring good news from the future, even as it took a toll on his health and drove him to ignore food and rest beyond the sleep needed to communicate with the dead. As such, he encourages leaders to fight the good fight for as long as they can and refuse to give up, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

CLARKIASTRIKE, PARAGON OF CONFIDENCE: A huge ginger-and-white molly and the representative of Plage, Clarkiastrike is well-loved for her sense of bravery and tendency to inspire others to gain courage. Needless to say, anxious and self-hating leaders are visited by her on their ceremony night and gifted a taste of her aggressive cheeriness and stalwart heart. Those who are a little more cynical and faithless in others are also given this cheeriness, though it’s directed outwards this time. Sometimes this works a little too well, as history has proved over time, but it’s generally in the Clan’s favor.

MULLEINBERRY, PARAGON OF AMBITION: The plain fawn-colored tom of the Clast. His history is a surprise to many who meet him in dreams – he was originally a kittypet that came to the Clans and introduced the role of medicine cat (later specified to healer) and may have actually brought several types of herbs into the valley. His ambition is less focused on rising through the ranks (a leader has already gotten to where they’ll top out, after all) and more on expanding the knowledge, health and safe areas to roam for the Clan.

GROSBEAKRAIN, PARAGON OF WISDOM: A blue molly and the calm, intelligent face for Hillock. She was an exceptional mentor and a deputy for the vast majority of her life, never quite making it to leader status and being content where she was. What made her so invaluable as a living cat was her advice, experience and level-headed nature, and to the young and inexperienced, that gift is what they need the most. She is said to have a voice that is hard to place, but is comforting regardless.  

SKUNKFLIGHT, PARAGON OF VIGILANCE: A black tuxedo molly that stands for the Fleet. It should go without saying that a sharp mind and eye are the most treasured traits in the Fleet, and so anyone who meets with her will quickly grow observant and quick to react. Not many leaders are lazy or oblivious, but she is of the belief that one can never be too watchful, especially when ruling a group several hundred strong that has so much going on in such a vast area.

SPLITFACE, PARAGON OF JUDGEMENT AND REDEMPTION: By far the most mysterious of the paragons due to their appearance changing between visions. The only consistency is that their face is halved in some way, whether by color, damage or facial structure. All that is known for certain is that they represent the Scattered cats in the paragon pantheon. They are said to appear to new leaders in whatever way they would find the most intimidating, which is appropriate given what they symbolize. Depending on what a leader deserves, and how well they will serve their Clan, they will receive either Redemption, forgiving them for their faults and mistakes, or Judgement, condemning them and damning their future. More malicious and evil leaders tend to be exclusively visited by Splitface.

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Twelve

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The sun was almost at its highest point, pale clouds mottling the sky white and blue, when Fernstar’s patrol came to a grove of trees.

“This’ll be a restin’ place for them,” Boarpaw said, chest puffed out with pride. He and his mentor, Glorypelt, had come back from their far-ahead scouting with the news that the scents of Redheart and a ‘mess of folk’ were clogging their noses in a place with drying ground and bent grass. The patrol had just reached it – they had walked slowly to allow the scouts to ensure their path was the right one, since the wind was starting to blow away the trail.

Now Fernstar nodded gratefully to Boarpaw and Glorypelt, smiling. “You’ve done good work. Thank you. Take a moment to rest while we investigate.”

Scouts, of course, never liked to rest, but Glorypelt guided his apprentice away from the main cluster of scents and let the rest of the Fleet cats sniff around, taking pathways this way and that, following what still remained in the soft, drying earth.

It was a little frustrating, Fernstar had to admit; the grass had not been bent severely enough to give a concrete trail, meaning they had to go on what the wind and sun hadn’t blown away or baked out of the ground. What was more frustrating was the knowledge that Viceroyclaw had brought up, now scratching at Fernstar’s head.

She couldn’t be gone from the leaders’ den forever. It had been several days now, and it would be several days more before she’d return. She would have to give up this hunt and leave it to the Fleet.

But there were questions she wanted answers to, questions that grew in number with every passing hour. Most of them were about Redheart, of course, but there was something Greyleaf had said when the story was reported to Fernstar that was intensely troubling her.

“Because I’ve seen it too,” he’d said.

What did that mean? Why did he believe in this story about StarClan that Redheart had started to tell when it was so transparently untrue?

Unless…

No. Fernstar shook her head. This was clearly something wrong with the two of them. She had seen StarClan’s power herself, during her leadership ceremony.

Cats circled around her, sniffing, as her mind wandered back to the days when she was younger and stronger. Back when she had fought hard for her position as deputy, had been appointed as high deputy, and waited only two or three years before the previous Clast leader had died and she was taken to the Lighthouse by a seer. She had fallen asleep to the crashes of the ocean’s waves just past the cliff the Lighthouse was set on, and when she’d opened her eyes a trail of stars was in front of her. She’d walked on it, too awed to say anything, coming up to a fawn-colored tom who represented the Clast leaders’ ceremony – Mulleinberry, he’d said his name was. He had gifted her with lives of ambition to serve the Clan and a drive to keep everyone safe and happy.

She’d like to think she'd kept good on the promise those gifts implied.

“Fernstar?”

She refocused. Fogpetal and Viceroyclaw were standing in front of her, looking at the little leader with concern and a bit of nervousness.

Fernstar slanted her head a little, indicating that she was listening, and Fogpetal spoke first.

“Viceroyclaw spoke to you earlier about you perhaps going back north,” she said carefully. “I understand that you being absent from the leaders can cause some trouble.”

Fernstar blinked slowly and stayed silent.

“If you like,” Fogpetal continued, undeterred, “we can continue the tracking from here, and you can return home.”

“I’ll stay with them,” Viceroyclaw offered, certainly more nervous than Fogpetal. “And I can send reports back to you. If- if that’s what you think is best.”

Fernstar knew very well that Viceroyclaw had made that suggestion because the alternative – acting as leader on Fernstar’s behalf – terrified her. A smaller, quieter group with a set mission that she didn’t have to invent and improvise on all the time was easier on her.

Fernstar took a moment to think. Not more than a moment. She could decide things quickly.

“Very well,” she said. “That may be best. I trust that you’ll do your duty to the best of your abilities, you two.”

The mollies bowed their heads respectfully.

“I can travel alone,” Fernstar continued. “Keep everyone you can with you. If you meet with any strangers, let them know who you’re searching for. The word will spread on its own after that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they said together.

Fernstar didn’t waste time. The clouds were thickening on the horizon, and she didn’t care to be caught in the rain if she could help it. With a wave goodbye and a thanks to everyone, she set off as if she hadn’t a thought in the world beyond her duties. But one did pick at her.

“Because I’ve seen it too.”

What did they see?

 ---

 Watching what little of the sky he could see, sitting alone, Greyleaf hated.

It would surprise many cats, if not everyone, to take a look into his mind and see how much hate coursed through his veins. How it soaked into his muscles and the very, very little fat he had on him. How every hair on his body wanted to be bristled at all times, how he wanted to bite and claw and scream to get it out. Fear had been his foremost thought the second he was born into a cold world, wet and blind and deaf. But ever since that fateful meeting with the Runagate, since his first sight of Redheart… slowly but surely, that fear started to burn instead of freeze him. It strained at his eyes, coloring everything with the knowledge he had now with red. It grew teeth that cried to tear apart StarClan and everyone who saw him with pity and contempt, who had no idea of the truth.

Mistface wouldn’t believe him if he said all this, probably. Mama certainly wouldn’t. Maybe no one would. Greyleaf had quickly become very good at containing himself starting from apprenticeship.

It was just a survival instinct at this point. Redheart had responded to StarClan’s truth with grief and determination. A plan that kept her alive. Greyleaf had no plan. He just had hate to protect him. And it’d done a good job so far.

But it couldn’t protect everyone else.

It couldn’t protect Nettlecloud.

“Hey.”

Greyleaf jolted and turned sharply to his right. Flyfang, standing behind him, jumped a little herself in alarm. Far behind her, Mistface and Redheart were whispering with Darkpelt, like conspirers. Laurelclaw, Littlepaw and Beetlefoot sat together, with Laurelclaw huddling like he wasn’t far outsizing the two of them no matter how he was postured. The air was tense, but it wasn’t frightened. It wasn’t hateful.

Greyleaf realized belatedly that he hadn’t said anything to Flyfang, so he cleared his throat. “Hi.”

Flyfang relaxed a little and tilted her head. “You doing alright?”

Greyleaf didn’t know how to answer that. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His jaw twitched and he looked down, away.

“You’ve just been by yourself for quite a while, is all.” Flyfang stepped closer with great caution. “Mistface was going to check on you, but Darkpelt wanted him and Redheart for some conversation or another. I don’t know why she didn’t ask for you, you and Redheart work together and all, but…”

Something must have shown on his face, because Flyfang trailed off. She instead closed the distance and sat down next to him, tail tapping nervously. Greyleaf returned his gaze to the thin sunlight, grateful for the shadows of the forest.

“I thought you looked a little stressed,” Flyfang said after a moment. “I know that’s normal for you, but…”

Greyleaf did not care to tell her what he had been stewing over the past few minutes. He just went with what was always on his mind, even just in the back. “I’m worried about my Mama.”

Flyfang’s face softened. Saddened a little, too. “Beetlefoot mentioned she wasn’t doing well the last time he saw her.”

Greyleaf saw no reason to be gentle. “She’s about to die. Cancer.” He squeezed his eyes shut, pain and grief and helpless rage in his chest. “She might be dead now, for all I know.”

Flyfang didn’t say it, but they thought the same thing.

And StarClan might have her.

“I shouldn’t talk,” Greyleaf said suddenly. “Your mother’s been there for a while.”

Flyfang nodded, her voice strained. “She has. Unless she was quick enough to run.”

“We rarely are,” Greyleaf muttered.

The two were quiet for a moment, before Flyfang fully turned to him.

“I have a request,” she said.

Greyleaf looked at her sidelong.

“If you and Redheart and everyone decide to leave…” She shifted a little, anxious. “I’d like to get my sisters before we go. They’re not far from here.”

Greyleaf blinked. “You’d travel with us?”

“I mean, yeah.” Flyfang gave him a mildly humorous look. “You all know the truth and I’ve made friends with a couple of you. And I trust you and Redheart. You’re both smart.”

At this, Greyleaf did half-smile. “Against all odds.”

“And you’re tough,” Flyfang added. “Like, just knowing about this, having no idea what to do, it almost makes me crazy. I have no idea how you two are sane knowing this your whole lives.”

Greyleaf’s smile faded just a little, but it didn’t go away. “I’m barely hanging on at this point, honestly. It’s been a lot of edging along a narrow cliffside, hoping not to fall, for my whole life.”

“Especially with your nightmares.” Flyfang shook her head, voice admiring. “I didn’t think anything of you at all when I first met you at the Clast. Healer, weak, nervous, all that. Did not expect you to be as hardcore as you are. Redheart, I could get, but not you.”

The idea of being ‘hardcore’ made an amused huff escape from Greyleaf. “I don’t know about that.”

“Dude, if any of us had suffered this for so long, I think we’d all go nuts.” Flyfang smiled broadly at him, oddly looking impressed. “And you’ve been at this since you were a kit. I think that qualifies as hardcore.”

Greyleaf’s eyes lowered to the ground, but his smile felt more genuine. “…Thanks, then.”

“No problem.” Flyfang leaned her head forward a little to look him in the eyes. “Are you a little happier?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Then my work is done.” Flyfang gave a self-satisfactory nod. “I just got worried about where your head was, and I thought you might need a bit of cheering up.”

Greyleaf looked at her, eyes narrowed in a more friendly way than anything else. “You’re not bad at it. Do you cheer up your sisters a lot?”

“Plenty enough.” Flyfang puffed out a sigh. “The Marish are terrible for a kit’s mental health, I’ll tell you. Mosquitopaw and Gnatpaw must be desperate to get out by now.” Her voice quieted a little. “And they have no idea of the real reason why they should.”

Greyleaf wanted to return the favor of positivity, but just as he opened his mouth, Redheart called, “If everyone can gather around!”

The two grey cats looked at each other in surprise, but stood up and joined the others, where they all sat down, watching the conspirators curiously. Mistface had a calmly pleased and, oddly, almost eager look on his face, and Redheart’s eyes were no longer exhausted. Darkpelt’s usual wide eyes and big smile were present where they should be, but there was a sparkle in them that Greyleaf couldn’t define.

“We have a proposition,” Darkpelt said. “And we’d like to share it with you.”