#robinkit

[marmosetpaw]

[eggfeather]

robinkit and woodkit

[nettleclanstale]

Moon 65

I uhh

I'm making a new tag for Peter Parker

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 83

With soup for getting food and water to Currentsmoke’s stomach and ointment to fight the infection growing in his jaw, Troutpool wracks her mind for anything else that might help her patient. At least Yellowburst’s yellowcough is gone.

[Image ID: Troutpool treats Currentsmoke with Robinkit's ghost standing behind the latter. Under Troutpool, it reads LEVEL UP! GHOST SENSE → GHOST SIGHT. Under Currentsmoke, it reads + INFECTION. Yellowburst walks away, with - CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH under her.]

"I know it stings," Troutpool cooed as she rubbed ointment along Currentsmoke's fracture, "but this will help kill the infection." Currentsmoke whined softly, but did not speak. There wasn't much he could say clearly; ever since Yarrowclaw carried him into camp after the accident, the clerics kept his muzzle wrapped in bandages and soft leather, preventing it from moving. Currentsmoke had to keep his mouth still if he didn't want to live with a crooked jaw the rest of his life.

Troutpool should have been able to prevent the infection. Currentsmoke hardly left the medicine den, had never thought of leaving camp. Troutpool and her denmates groomed the large gash across his face well, they kept track of what treatments they gave him. How did he develop an infection? What did Troutpool do wrong?

Pawsteps trapsed through the sand outside just as Troutpool smeared the last of the infection-kiling ointment. Yellowburst entered the otherwise empty den, carefully carrying a bowl of soup. Steam gently flew off the broth's glistening surface.

"I strained the solid bits out, just like you asked," Yellowburst said, placing the bowl in front of Currentsmoke's nest.

"You're wonderful, Yellowburst," Troutpool purred. She rubbed the remaining ointment on her paws off onto a scrap of leather. "When you're finished with your meal, can you ask my mother which caretakers are free? I have a bundle of bandages and leather that need washed."

"I'll pass it along," Yellowburst promised. "Are you feeling any better, Currentsmoke?"

"Tryn' tuh," Currentsmoke said, teeth locked together.

"I guess that's all we can ask for," Yellowburst chuckled awkwardly. "I'll see if Sandhollow would tell you any stories to pass the time later. Stay strong!" Yellowburst gently touched Currentsmoke's forehead and retreated from the den.

"Let me know when you're ready to eat," Troutpool sighed, placing her ointment back on the den's vast shelves. "I know it hurts, but if I help you open your mouth, we can make sure you don't make things worse." The fur on Troutpool's neck tingled. She paused, tail rising. She recognized that feeling, the sort that had lingered since her first days as a cleric, that eery sign of StarClan at work. She felt it at the ritual to weaken the Spirits of Shadow, she felt it when Oilstripe spoke to ghosts of friends passed, and she felt it every time she visited StarClan's Shrine. This time was different, though. This time, Troutpool heard a voice.

"I'll try to lower your pain, Current," the newcomer said. "Mom and I will get you through this, whatever happens." Troutpool turned slowly. A sparkling figure stood behind Currentsmoke, the spirit's transparent tail dancing over Currentsmoke's flank. He was dark red, with deep blue eyes and a splash of white wrapping around his chest and back. Troutpool recognized him. She would never forget the face of a kit she couldn't save.

"Robinkit?" Troutpool muttered. Robinkit jumped, attention wrenched away from Currentsmoke.

"How do you see me?" Robinkit yelped. "You're not supposed to see me!"

"I'm sorry?" Troutpool gulped, thoughts spinning.

"Saah-ry fah what?" Currentsmoke sighed with a slow, soft shake of his head. "Yah're doehng great."

"Oh, no," Troutpool stammered, shaking out her pelt, "sorry, Currentsmoke, I wasn't talking to you, I… I'll be back soon." Troutpool scurried out of the medicine den, fur burning. The camp was packed for the mid-day meal, basking in the late spring haze. Troutpool kept her eyes down, trying to look as sane as possible.

"You can see me!" Robinkit ran after Troutpool with silent paws. "I'm supposed to be invisible!"

"Don't look at me!" Troutpool hissed under her breath, sparing a quick glance back at her ghostly pursuer. "I'm not trying to disturb you!"

Near the entrance of camp, not far from the apprentice's den, Oilstripe sat alone, sunbathing. Except Troutpool realized her mother wasn't alone. Two ghosts Troutpool did not recognize sat around Oilstripe. One was a brown tabby who spoke animatedly, tail and paws flying about. The other was a light brown kit who laid on their back, watching the other ghost upside-down.

"So I tell Silverpaw, being dead isn't so bad!" the brown tabby chuckled. "you can fly now! And never aging, that's going to feel great!"

"Says the adult ghost," the kit scoffed. Oilstripe chuckled, hiding her humor under her paw.

"Mom," Troutpool called, unable to smooth her pelt. Oilstripe quickly picked up on her daughter's fear scent.

"What's wrong?" Oilstripe asked, hurrying up. "Is it Currentsmoke?"

"No, it's me," Troutpool whispered, trying and failing to ground her thoughts. "Mom, do you, um… please tell me you see Robinkit behind me."

"Hi, Oilstripe," Robinkit sighed. Troutpool closed her eyes and prayed the kit's ghost would go away. This wasn't how clerics communicated with StarClan. It bypassed all the rules Fennelspot taught her, invaded their divine privacy. How could Troutpool respect the traditions of her profession if she saw ghosts?

"Do you see Robinkit?" Oilstripe asked.

"Better question, do you see me?" the brown tabby huffed. Troutpool risked opening one eye. The brown tabby ghost stared at her with giant eyes. They gasped dramatically and cried, "She looked at me, she looked at me!" Troutpool shut her eyes again.

"Troutpool, you're alright," Oilstripe promised. "I see them."

"I'm not supposed to," Troutpool gulped. "I have to respect them. I can't go around the rules."

"Do you think I'm doing something wrong?" Oilstripe scoffed. She gently groomed her daughter's cheek. "Because if you think you're disobeying the code, then I must be. Call the codekeepers, put me on trial." Troutpool risked another look at the brown tabby. Their face was soft, free of judgment or divine wrath.

"I'm Applepelt," the brown tabby said with a friendly twitch of her whiskers. "I'm a friend of your mother's. And I don't think you're disrespecting anyone just by seeing us."

"But how do you see us?" the unknown kit huffed, pacing around Troutpool.

"Twinekit raises a good point," Oilstripe muttered. "If anyone were to inherit my sight, I would have expected Tallowheart or Slushtrail, but Carnationspeckle gave birth to me."

"Does that make you less of a mother?" Applepelt scoffed, slipping beside Troutpool and Oilstripe. Her transparent paw batted Oilstripe's head, but it phased through as though going through air. Oilstripe still flinched, unable to fight back a purr. "If this is something the All-Seeing did, do you think they would care about blood? We aren't talking about pelt patterns."

"It's still important that I respect your work when you visit us," Troutpool gulped, giving Applepelt some room. "I'm afraid I interuppted…" Troutpool looked back to where Robinkit had been, but the dead kit was gone.

"You'll get used to that," Oilstripe promised, nuzzling her daughter's neck. Troutpool sighed, relaxing into Oilstripe.

"Now, if you're finished panicking," Applepelt chuckled, splaying their paws about wildly as they fell on their belly, "I can tell you some of the embarassing things your mother got up to when she was younger."

"You can't embarass me," Oilstripe said, eyes narrowing in a challenge. Applepelt stared at Oilstripe like a victorious hunter.

"Does the phrase 'holy balls' mean anything to you?" Applepelt cooed. Troutpool choked on a laugh.

"You weren't even here for that!" Oilstripe gasped, swatting at Applepelt's ghost. "How do you know about that?"

"StarClan sees all," Applepelt said in a wobbley, dramatic voice. This time, Troutpool set her laughter (and her insecurities) free.

(Troutpool: 44, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Currentsmoke: 18, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Yellowburst: 14, female, caretaker, adventurous, good mediator)

(Robinkit: 5, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Applepelt: 31, she/they, historian, rebellious, lore keeper)

(Twinekit: 2, female, kit, noisy, quick to help)

(Oilstripe: 87, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

Yarrowclaw stays out all day and brings back one piece of fresh-kill for each main prey species in the territory. Even though Rabbitjoy notes that they may not be able to work through all that prey before it rots, Yarrowclaw insists the hunt was an important ritual to safeguard the Clan.

[Image ID: Rabbitjoy, Halibutdusk, and Elmsprout stare at Yarrowclaw, who yowls "Eat, eat!"]

(Yarrowclaw: 18, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

(Rabbitjoy: 120, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver

(Halibutdusk: 75, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Elmsprout: 50, female, caretaker, charismatic, trusted advisor)

[exocynraku]

mosspelt's tree

[shine-clan]

Moon 10

A new litter is born -- welcome Brackenkit, Robinkit, Lynxkit, and Mistlekit!

Dreampaw graduates, and is now named Dreamflight!

He learned from Vixenwander to use words over claws, and became better at storytelling. He graduated at 11 moons old, and was honored for his wit.

The weather has recently been cold and dry, and Partridgefeather's pawpads have become cracked.

[flaxclan]

Moon 73

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 43

Chapter 42 || Index || Chapter 44

The journey to Sunningrocks was long, but it gave Fireheart time to think, and to worry. What if Riverclan wasn’t there? The Clan was already close to mutinous without him bringing three enemy kits back to camp. His actions were easily justified by the code, but there were surely those in the Clan that thought they were better off with less Riverclanners. 

And what would Riverclan think? Would they believe that the kits had been stolen? Relations were already tense with them, and while things had eased these last moons now that Graystripe wasn’t crossing the border every morning, evening and night, this surely would complicate matters. Ivyskip, their mother, must be out of her mind with worry, afraid that they had drowned in the river. He knew how fiercely a mother cared for her kits - and how she would fight if she thought they were in danger. If she saw them right now, would they get a chance to explain before Riverclan attacked?

Though he tried not to worry about it, instead focusing on taking the steadiest path through the forest, his mind kept looping back around to it. Images flashed through his mind of Leopardflame yowling at him, of Crookedstar nose to nose with Bluestar, of Graystripe and Silverstream-

Thunderclan couldn’t afford a war with Riverclan right now. There were so few warriors, and he wasn’t sure he could trust all of them - least of all himself - in a battle against the other Clan. There was Bluestar to contend with as well, the once great leader barely leaving her nest without his or Yellowfang’s prodding. If they went to war, Thunderclan would lose, he was sure of it, and it would be just one more criticism that the elders would have of his being deputy.

He slowed to a halt as he reached a familiar clearing - one in which, long ago, he’d seen Riverclan cats for the first time. He gently dropped Robinkit, the other two warriors doing the same behind him. He opened his mouth, about to mew instruction to the other warriors, but stopped when a gray striped tail slapped across his mouth. He blinked, staring bewilderedly at Peppermask, but she didn’t say anything, instead gesturing for him to be quiet.

Fireheart perked his ears, suddenly painfully aware of how close they were to the Riverclan border. Had she heard warriors coming? He pricked his ears, expecting to hear cats approaching, but the only thing he could hear was birdsong. He watched, his confusion growing, as she stalked away into the bushes, firmly in their own territory. Had she heard trespassers?

He was about to follow her when he heard a startled squawk, followed by the sound of a dozen wings frantically taking to the air. Peppermask returned with a bright smile, carrying a plump pigeon in her jaws. “I saw them as we approached.” She explained as she dropped it in front of the kits. “I didn’t want you scaring them off. No point in wasting a perfectly good opportunity.”

Though his heart was still racing from the thought of an approaching threat, he had to agree with her reasoning. “That seems sensible.” He admitted, trying to calm himself down. “Hey, have you kits ever-”

He startled as he looked down at the kits, who were tearing into the bird with a ferocious zeal that made him feel a little nervous for his own hide. “Hey, don’t- don’t choke on the feathers, please.” He warned them, though he wasn’t entirely sure they heard him as they continued crunching into the carcass.

He hadn’t noticed before, with too much else on his mind, but he realized now how skinny the three kits were. Between his and Peppermask’s hunting, not to mention Yellowfang’s help, Princess’ kits were pudgy, bordering on fat. It felt unnatural to see these kits, almost skin and bones, now ravaging the prey set in front of them. How long had it been since they ate? Surely they hadn’t starved this badly from a single day of adventure - this was at least a quarter-moon without eating, maybe more. 

When he looked at Peppermask, he expected to see surprise on her face, but she was just watching them with sadness. “I could feel Dawnkit’s spine when I picked her up. That’s why I- I couldn’t let them go back, and find out later that they’d starved to death…” She explained softly to him when she saw him watching.

“The river is Riverclan’s main source of food, and it freezes over in leafbare. Most of the prey in the lowlands goes into hibernation, too.” Graystripe mumbled from his other side. “That’s why they get so fat in leaf-fall; they need all the food they can get to survive leafbare. They try to have kits in newleaf, when the fish return, so that they’ll have plenty to eat.”

Fireheart looked on, his heart aching as he watched the kits devour every last scrap of the pigeon. If the kits were this skinny, the part of the Clan that ate first, how was the rest of the Clan alive? What if they’d all perished in the floods, unable to summon the strength to swim-

No, he wouldn’t let himself think such thoughts. “Come on, you three.” He mewed, nudging them with his nose. They moved from the bones reluctantly, glancing back as though hoping they might spot a spare morsel that they had missed. “It’s time to get you back to your mother.”

They moved through what little bracken remained to look down on Sunningrocks. Just like the rest of the land close to the river, it was flooded, the normal stone floor vanished beneath the water. However, just as they’d hoped, some of the normal stone towers that made Sunningrocks so valuable were still a tail-length or more above the water. His heart soared as he saw cats moving around - dozens of them, an entire Clan’s worth.

He turned to the kits. “You three stay here for a moment.” He nodded the same to Peppermask and Graystripe before, with a deep sigh, wading a few tail-lengths out until the water was lapping firmly around his forelegs. “Riverclan!” He called, watching as the entire Clan’s head turned as one at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Is Ivyskip among you? We must speak with her.”

He could see some cats already bristling at him, ready to challenge him. He was technically intruding, although he hoped that they would see it was for a good reason, and he’d expected minor aggression at his appearance. He could hear talking, though not well enough to make out words or who was speaking, before several cats dove into the water and swam towards him, leaving the rest of the Clan on the rocks. They didn’t seem to be a battle patrol, at least, which was a good start.

He flicked his tail for them to follow him, then moved back to mostly dry land. “Come here. Let them see you, all of you. We don’t want them to think this is an ambush.” He mewed, the kits and warriors emerging from the bracken to stand beside him.

It was only heartbeats before the Riverclan cats were upon them, and he was grateful to realize he recognized most of them. Crookedstar was leading them, his jaw twisted up in an ugly scowl, while Leopardflame and Mistyskip flanked him. Behind them was a tortoiseshell queen he didn’t recognize - Ivyskip, if he had to guess.

“My kits!” His thoughts were confirmed as the queen raced past him as soon as she could stand, enveloping them all in her still-dripping embrace. “You’re safe! Oh, Starclan, thank Starclan you’re all safe…”

Crookedstar’s green gaze warmed slightly as he watched the family reunite. “And how, might I ask, did Thunderclan come by three of Riverclan’s kits?” The leader asked, his gaze narrowing to glare down at Fireheart. He steadied himself, not wanting to seem afraid and guilty. They had done nothing wrong rescuing these kits; he would not let Thunderclan be blamed.

He opened his mouth to reply. “They stole them from us! They must have!” Leopardflame spat before he could speak, her spotted pelt rising as she advanced on the three young Thunderclanners. “They’ve been nothing but trouble for us all of leafbare! First with the prey-stealing, and then-”

“We didn’t steal them!” Fireheart snapped back before she could finish. “We were out to survey the extent of the flooding near the Owltree when we heard kits calling for help. The branch they were on broke apart in front of us, so we rescued them before they could drown.”

“Really? You expect us to believe that?” The deputy straightened up to her full height with a hiss, though Fireheart suspected that if he tried he would be taller than her. “As if Thunderclan cats would ever get their paws wet!”

“Leopardflame.” Mistyskip mewed, casting a disdainful glance at her deputy as she stepped up beside her uncle. “Look at their bellies. They’re soaked with water, all of them, which could only happen if they were submerged in water, and not just traveling in the rain. They have been swimming, and recently.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Leopardflame spat back, her eyes blazing furiously at the senior warrior that had dared to talk back to her. “If you’re so smart, then explain how they could find our kits near the Owltree, far upstream from camp!”

The silver molly looked unsettled at the deputy’s retort. Fireheart stepped forward to interrupt them before she could hazard a guess. “I think that might be answered by the kits themselves.” He turned to them, shivering and hugging their mother as tightly as possible. “Go on, then.”

The kits stared at him with wide, anxious eyes, and suddenly he felt fear strike his heart. They had to tell the truth, or Riverclan would be furious with them! After all that the three warriors had done for the kits…

Peppermask crouched down, her belly brushing the wet pebbles below. “Hey, you guys don’t want us to get in trouble for saving you, do you? Just tell them what you told us.” She mewed gently to the three.

Tears welled in Aspenkit’s eyes, but he slowly nodded and pulled away from the tortoiseshell queen. “We- we wanted to see the gorge for ourselves. But Dad wouldn’t take us, and- so we snuck out. We’re sorry! We didn’t know-”

“Shh, darling. It’s alright. You’re safe now.” Ivyskip gently hushed her son and pulled him back against her again. “I believe them. Why would these Thunderclanners steal our kits just to bring them back?” She looked up with warm green eyes, bowing her head to each of them. “Thank you, all of you. You risked your lives to save my kits. I will never forget your kindness.”

Fireheart nodded back, even as exhaustion began to creep over him once again. “I’m just glad we were able to bring them back home. And I’m sure they’re glad, too.” He replied, turning back to the other three Riverclanners. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, but I assure you, not a single Thunderclanner is interested in stealing your kits. We already have enough trouble dealing with our own.”

Crookedstar’s whiskers twitched slightly at his words. “Well, in that case, Riverclan is grateful that you rescued them. I know it is not an easy task to swim in these floodwaters; doubly so for a cat not accustomed to swimming at all.” As he spoke, a spark lit in his gaze. “Say, Mistyskip, didn’t you mention something about rescuing a ginger Thunderclanner from the river a few moons ago?”

Fireheart’s ears flattened bitterly at the memory, and he was sure Graystripe was doing the same behind him. “Yes, Uncle. Him and the tom behind him were the very two Silverstream and I rescued.” Her blue eyes met his with a mischievous twinkle. “I’m glad to see that you two have learned how to swim since then.” 

He growled wordlessly in response, but she didn’t seem to take heed as she trotted past him to where Ivyskip was still holding her kits tightly. “Let’s get them up on the rocks. Leopardflame, if you would?”

The spotted deputy’s scowl worsened as she moved past the Thunderclan cats, gingerly picking up Robinkit before turning and leaping gracefully into the floodwaters. The three mollies were gone in mere moments with their charges, leaving only the Riverclan leader and the Thunderclan cats standing on the shoreline.

As Crookedstar turned away, presumably to follow them, Fireheart noticed how visible the leader’s hips were - not unlike, he realized, how Tallstar had been when they had led the Windclanners back home. He felt Graystripe and Peppermask tensing up beside him, and he knew they were thinking the same. “Crookedstar, may I speak to you for a moment?” He mewed quickly.

The normally muscular tabby turned back, his eyes wary but not hostile, as he regarded them with suspicion. “You have my attention.” The leader replied with a small courteous dip of his head.

“Let me be honest with you, Crookedstar.” The tabby’s tail tip twitched slightly as Fireheart spoke, but he nonetheless inclined his head slightly in agreement. “On the way here, Peppermask happened to catch a bird. She’s a good hunter; one of our best.” He glanced slightly to see her whiskers twitch as she acknowledged the praise, but he could see the worry etched clearly on her face. “We didn’t get a chance to decide what to do with it when the kits devoured it.”

Crookedstar sighed heavily and sat down, unbothered by the water that lapped around his paws. “I apologize for them. Kits can be impulsive, sometimes, and they must have been hungry from their little adventure. I promise you-”

“This wasn’t a matter of simple hunger. Those kits were starving. They cleaned those bones faster than a cat can lash their tail.” He could see the large tabby’s muscles tense up as he spoke. “You and I both know the warrior code says that kits must be fed first, and I don’t think those kits had eaten in the past quarter-moon. If they haven’t eaten, what about the rest of your Clan?”

The Riverclan leader’s scowl had returned as he glared at the presumptuous young Thunderclanner. “Perhaps you’re still unfamiliar with how the Clans work. Most warriors would consider it a grave offen-”

“I know that pointing out such weaknesses in another Clan is considered the highest of insults. But I also have to think that if those kits had had enough to eat, that they might not have needed our rescuing at all.” Fireheart took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew what he was thinking was essentially breaking the code. He also knew that if he didn’t speak up, he would never forgive himself. “If we hadn’t given them food, I’m not certain they would have lived through another quarter-moon. And now your lands are flooded, and you’ve admitted yourself that flood waters are difficult to navigate. You won’t be able to hunt until the flood subsides, and who knows when that will be?”

He could see Crookedstar’s lip curling as he listened to Fireheart speak. “Is there a point to this?” The other tom growled.

“There is, Crookedstar.” He dipped his head respectfully, though he was sure it didn’t feel like it to the tabby tom. “Now that newleaf has come, prey is returning to the forest. Many in Thunderclan have full bellies. Even though some of our best hunting territory is underwater, we can still spare prey, if it will ensure your Clan’s survival.”

The Thunderclan deputy and Riverclan leader stared at each other, gauging each other’s moods. Fireheart didn’t shy away from the other’s gaze; he meant every word he had said, even if it was tantamount to treason. “You claim that you are familiar with how the Clans work, and yet what you’re suggesting to me is antithetical to the very foundation of the Clans.” Crookedstar’s tone was carefully measured as he regarded the flame-colored deputy. “What will you ask for in return, hmm? Nothing comes without a price, and I will not indebt my Clan to yours when we are-”

“We ask for nothing. It was us, as you’ll recall, that traveled to bring Windclan home. We did not ask them for territory or prey then either. I don’t want Thunderclan to gain territory by exploiting the weakness of the Clans around us; if we are to expand our borders, it will be through battles with honorable warriors, as Starclan intends.” Even as he said it, he could tell Crookedstar was still skeptical. He wasn’t able to hold it against the other tom; he was certain that if Tigerclaw was speaking the same words, that he would absolutely intend to eventually use the favor against Riverclan. “Be honest with me, and with yourself, Crookedstar; if you cannot find prey by tomorrow, how many in your Clan will die of starvation?”

The tabby’s pale green eyes fell to the water he was sitting in, and he knew instantly that Crookedstar was picturing gaunt faces staring at him from the rocks. Had cats already died? “Be that as it may,” Crookedstar admitted with a heavy sigh, “the Clans have always survived independently. Starclan may - there will be those that go to greet them, but that is a warrior’s lot in life. I cannot burden my Clan to change that.”

“Perhaps it is not the duty of a warrior to care what happens to another Clan.” Fireheart answered readily, watching the leader’s proud stature even as his eyes were full of hunger, and his skin clung to his bones. “After all, the code tells us to care for our Clans above all else. But I have watched the code be used to defend driving out other Clans for the sake of one; I have watched the code be used to defend cold-blooded murder. Perhaps the code tells me that I should turn my back on Riverclan now, so that we can take Sunningrocks from the corpse of your Clan once the floodwaters go down. But I believe that being a warrior is about mercy as much as it is about strength, and so I will do what I can to alleviate your suffering, regardless of what the code says.”

They stared each other down for another long moment before Crookedstar’s eyes flicked to the two warriors behind him. “And what of you two? Do you agree with what your deputy says?” The leader asked dryly.

Fireheart didn’t dare look them in the eyes. “The code says that we cannot neglect a kit, no matter their origin.” He heard Peppermask mew behind him. “If we were to leave now to let your kits starve, then I think we would be breaking the code. If hunting for your Clan means that the kits will eat, and live, then it is my duty as a warrior to do so. Fireheart’s offer may be unconventional, but I believe he’s right.”

“Uh, yeah.” Graystripe mewed from his other side. “What my sister said.”

Crookedstar looked unable to believe his ears, his twisted jaw dropping slightly at their words. He looked down at his paws once again, seriously considering everything that had been said. “Perhaps you all have the bold-faced audacity to lie to my face.” He said at last, looking back up into Fireheart’s eyes with a vulnerable honesty he hadn’t had before. “But there is only so much I can do to argue when my Clan is dying. We barely managed to escape the flood when it surged through our camp. Frogleap is still missing because of it. My duty is to protect my Clan, no matter the cost. And whether the cost is Sunningrocks, or the river, or all of our lands; the code says that is a cost I must accept.” He looked away with another heavy sigh. “Very well. If Thunderclan should grant us some of their prey, then I will not - can not - turn it away.”

He wished he could convince the leader that his words were genuine, with no cost attached - but he knew better than to try. “We’ll be in the clearing behind us every day just after dawn. We’ll hunt for you until the floodwaters leave Sunningrocks.” He flicked his tail for the patrol to turn to leave. “Hopefully that day will come quickly.”

“Hopefully.” Crookedstar murmured, turning away from them and swimming back towards the rocks his Clan were huddled on without a further word. Fireheart turned away into the bracken as well, exhaustion from fighting the floodwaters and the task ahead creeping over him.

He had only stepped a few tail-lengths into the forest before Peppermask was whirling on him. “Are you mad?” She hissed - not angrily, he could tell, but from genuine fear. “How are you going to explain this to the rest of the Clan?”

He met her gaze evenly. He was past the point of caring what the Clan thought of him anymore - but he didn’t dare tell her that. “I won’t.” He replied simply, brushing past her to lead them back to camp. “They don’t have to even find out. How long can it be until the floods subside? A half-moon, maybe, or even a quarter-moon? If Graystripe could go moons without being caught having a Riverclan mate, I doubt anyone will even notice.” Even if they did, what would they do? The only cat that could exile him was curled up in her nest and could barely be prodded out. “I’m the deputy, after all. I can arrange the patrols to make sure no one’s ever around to find us. Besides, don’t you two pretend you didn’t want to offer the same thing.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it!” Still, he could hear her beginning to relax - his points made sense, after all. “Are you really planning on just the three of us doing this?”

“We’re both good hunters, and we have Graystripe to help as well.” Back when they were apprentices, that would have been a teasing joke, but there was no humor in his voice now. “That’s the size of an average hunting patrol. We could recruit others to help, but I don’t know if there’s anyone I’d trust to agree with what we’re doing and keep it a secret. We may not catch enough to feed their entire Clan, but hopefully it will at least be enough to keep them from starving.”

Peppermask was silent, clearly still trying to rationalize everything in her head. After a moment, he was surprised to hear Graystripe speak up. “I- Thank you, Fireheart. You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t look at the large tom behind him, keeping his eyes on the forest ahead. “I didn’t do it for you.” He responded.

“I know, but- still.” Graystripe didn’t have to say anything else - he already knew what the other was thinking. Kits, then queens, were fed first amongst all of the Clan. If the kits had been starving, then that meant that Silverstream had gone without food for just as long, if not longer, than they had. It was possible that if they didn’t help, she would have died. 

As much as he told Graystripe it hadn’t been for him, he couldn’t lie and pretend that hadn’t been in his mind when he had first offered to hunt for Riverclan. No matter what he thought of his former friend and his ill-fated romance, some small and sentimental part of him would never let Graystripe’s kits die. And though the task in front of them felt formidable to face down, he wouldn’t let fear stop him from doing the right thing.

At least, he hoped it was the right thing.

[elementclangen]

Moon 184-Greenleaf

Poolbounce (20)  just can’t stop adopting kits.  This time, he adopted two kits a loner left to the Clan.  Both of them are water-blessed, which Creekstar (38) is grateful for.  At least one of them will become a mediator.  It’ll be nice to have one again.  The little girl, Swiftkit (2), loves using her water-blessing to get into trouble.  She uses it to make the splashes from puddles even bigger to drench one of Poolbounce’s other kits, Robinkit (1).  He’s not a fan of getting doused with water, and the most his fire-blessing can do is warm him up a little bit.  The other kit, Silverkit (2), makes quite a team with Swiftkit.  Sometimes the two of them will make a wave that completely drenches the nursery.  How fun.   Lightkit (1) seems to be getting along better with Silverkit and Swiftkit than his bio brother.  He has a fun time joking around with Silverkit.  Robinkit is excited to escape his splashing tormentors and dreams about becoming a warrior.  In other family relationships, Gladepatch (60) is feeling a little defensive of his daughter after she got rejected by Wildcave (67).  He doesn’t think the other tom is being completely honest with Creekstar about his feelings.  Pigeonspot’s (53) efforts to get along with Sleepyfoot’s (50) older kits seem to be going well, at least with Astertwist (20).  She appreciates the advice the young Healer gives her.  She’s also been spending time with her younger bio son, Elmroot (14) and wants to explore the whole territory with him.  Primcrest feels the need to keep all of her skills sharp and challenges Elmroot to spar with her.  Frecklepaw (11) is enjoying her Healer training, particularly the parts where she gets to hang out with the elder, Peakspots (153).  She promises she’ll always take care of him. Tornpaw (11) is working hard at developing fighting techniques that take advantage of his disability.  He’s determined that he’ll be just as skilled in battle as any able-bodied fire-blessed cat!

[leafpoolstanblog]

RiverClan-R2-Y6-NL

Podlight and Curlfeather become warriors.

Reedtail retires.

Mudfur and Petalkit die.

Shadepelt and Reedwhisker have another kit; Nettlekit.

Sedgecreek also has a kit, with an unknown father, Copperkit. Pouncepaw is reapprenticed to Otterheart.

Robinkit is born to Grasswhisker and Clawface.

[burning-thistles-bt]

i heard it was the gay month or something? idk have the bisexual storm boys

it's Robinstormfur!!!!! love them they're so funky scrunkly chunky <33

brrr so yeah!! will hopefully do a few more of these but to start us off here's Stormfur (currently Stormpaw) and Robinstorm!!!! you can call their duo/ship name StormRobin, Robinstormfur, or the Storm Boys, any works lol

Stormfur's design may change but I kind of was just going for "fluffy storm cloud" and "Graystripe clone." he's a big boy for sure in my head, but in the BT AU version of him, he probably crouches down and makes himself small a lot more than canon him. Canon him is for sure a lot more confident and outgoing, but here in BT, Lightningfur defo ruined that for him. a commenter i think once pointed out that he and Feathertail had switched places (as canon Feathertail is the one who wanted to leave RiverClan while Stormfur wanted to stay. In BT, it's switched... though, ironically, Feathertail has left RiverClan at this point).

Robinstorm and Stormfur both suffered at the hands (paws) of Lightningfur's misandry and violent temper. while Robinstorm is hopelessly desperate to prove himself, Stormfur is a bit more... pessimistic, believing he's already lost and there's nothing he can do... emo Stormfur arc, anyone?

honestly these guys probably won't have a lot if any spotlight on them

pretty much the only moments we have so far for them is during the Carrionplace battle where they're fighting together and when Stormpaw stops Robinstorm from chasing after Lightningfur and Featherpaw

actually im not quite sure of their dynamic in terms of who has a crush on who first or if they're friends first or what... hmmm... Robinstorm is the kind of guy to have a bunch of crushes (coughtLizardflightcough) and you wOULD think he hates Stormpaw for being "favorited" by Lightningfur but... I think even Robinstorm realizes Featherpaw is the true favorite so all his resentment is solely on her plus its more of a "wow why cant i be as good as her? ill never be as good as her" that comes out as anger.

i imagine after this battle their bonding really begins, especially now that Pikefang, Robinstorm's only ""friend"" (Pikefang did not consider him a friend while Robin thought he was his best friend lol) is dead

[frostwing05]

#601 Robinkit

"Leopardfur could hardly bear to watch as he huddled against his mother, confused and sad and so small that she wondered how she could ever protect him from all the dangers he would have to face." — Leopardfur's thoughts watching Robinkit deal with his father's death

Son of Mosspelt and Frogleap, brother of Woodkit and Dawnflower, half-brother of Willowshine.

[nettleclanstale]

MOON 70

NOTES:

-Pebblecatcher retires.

-Cloverlight, Badgerfall, and Whimsybeam earn their full names.

-Perchwish, Snowypoppy, and Princessbramble are expecting kits.

-Yewkit recovers from greencough.

Relief flooded through Badgerfall's body as the first rays of sun made themselves visible through the trees. Her silent vigil, along with Cloverlight's, had been rather uneventful.

Rustling from the warrior's den caught Badgerfall's attention. Mothflower crawled out from the bush, shaking out his pelt and blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Morning!" Badgerfall called, her eyes lighting up with joy. Her vigil was over!

The tom froze, looking at Badgerfall with wide eyes. It was as if he had seen a ghost. After a few seconds, he relaxed, sighing in relief. 

"Oh, Badgerfall, good morning. You scared me!" Mothflower glanced around camp, then his voice dropped to a whisper. "You're not supposed to talk, yet. You must wait for Meadowbreeze to dismiss you…" 

Badgerfall stood up straight, silently nodding.

Mothflower chuckled. 

"Don't worry, he'll be awake soon," He stated, turning to Cloverlight. "Tempestpool will be out to dismiss you, also." With that, he padded off, out of camp.

As the sun rose higher, more cats began to stir. Badgerfall shifted her paws anxiously, casting glances towards the warrior den entrance. 

It wasn't long before Tempestpool exited, yawning and stretching his legs before striding over to Cloverlight and touching his nose to her shoulder.

"Congratulations, Cloverlight. Your vigil has ended." He purred. Turning his head to Badgerfall, his dipped his head in apology. "Meadowbreeze will come soon." He hastily meowed before walking away, gesturing for Cloverlight to follow.

Badgerfall let out a sigh as her sister padded away, and continued to wait.  Finally, Meadowbreeze came out of the den. He immediately padded over to Badgerfall, and nervously touched his nose to hers. 

"I'm sorry for the wait," He awkwardly meowed, before clearing his throat. "…Your vigil is over. Congratulations." 

Badgerfall dipped her head. "Thank you." 

Meadowbreeze flicked his tail, turning away. "Get some rest. You earned it." Was all he said as he left. 

Badgerfall stood, her legs feeling like mush as she awkwardly stretched and let out a yawn. Her paws felt numb, and the snow beneath the spot she sat had long melted away. A chilly leaf-bare air swept through her body, and she shivered. 

Giggles could be heard coming from the nursery, and Badgerfall watched as Bramblekit ran out, followed by his littermates Robinkit and Yewkit. She was relieved to see Yewkit active and doing so much better, his kithood having been stolen away by an awful case of greencough.

"We're gonna be apprentices next moon!" Bramblekit chirped, running in circles in front of the nursery before leaping into a small pile of snow with a soft poomf. "I'll be the best warrior ever!"

"Not if I do it first!" Robinkit teased. She looked back at Yewkit, swishing her tail at him. "You're gonna be a warrior too, right?"

"Of course I am! I'll be better than both of you!" Yewkit crouched, wiggling his rump before leaping onto his sister and biting her ear. Robinkit squealed, before beginning to engage in a mock-battle with her littermate. 

"I don't think it's fair to make it a competition." A new voice said. Brackenberry padded out of the nursery after her kits, looking back inside. "Come on then, Squirrelkit. You too, Flamekit." She meowed. The exhaustion on her face was clear, just barely masked with a gentle smile as two more kits followed after their mother.

Badgerfall approached Brackenberry, who flinched when she arrived.

"Oh, stars! Badgerfall, you scared me!" Brackenberry exclaimed. "Hello! Congratulations on the warrior name, it's very…" She cleared her throat. "…Fitting."

"Thank you." Badgerfall peeked into the nursery, a purr escaping her as she saw Hazybloom curled in his nest, his side slowly rising and falling. Curled up at his belly were his own two kits, Owlkit and Rowankit. "Only a few more moons until the nursery is empty..."

"Oh, no, quite the opposite." Brackenberry chuckled, sitting down and sweeping her tail to the other side of her body as Squirrelkit pounced onto it, earning a surprised squeak from the young tom as he stumbled to the ground. "We'll be getting new litters soon."

"What!?" 

"Mhm," Brackenberry let out a purr of amusement, leaning down to give her fur a few licks before looking back up at the she-cat. "Snowypoppy's expecting a second litter, and...Perchwish and Princessbramble are also going to be bringing kits to the clan."

"Oh, how exciting." Badgerfall found herself glancing towards the clearing, where Perchwish and Princessbramble were chatting. The two toms were laughing to each other, batting at each others' faces. "Wait, how..."

"Don't ask." Brackenberry shook her head. "Now...I can tell you're exhausted from your vigil." She waved her paw in a dismissive yet playful way, chuckling. "Go, get some rest."

Badgerfall nodded, bidding the ginger queen and her kits goodbye before heading off. On her way to the warrior's den, movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. 

A very groggy Whimsypaw entered camp. She was followed by Twigsplash, the large she-cat lumbering after her apprentice. Despite her thick fur, her exhaustion was evident. 

"Whimsypaw!" Badgerfall exclaimed, rushing over to her sister and pressing her head against her fur. "How did it go? What's your new name?"

"...Whimsybeam. My name is Whimsybeam now." Whimsybeam half-heartedly gave her sister a nudge, before padding to the medicine den and looking over her shoulder. "Sorry, I'm just...I'm so tired. Please, let me get some sleep."

"Oh. O-okay! Bye, Whimsybeam, congratulations!" Badgerfall meowed after her littermate, forcing a smile before continuing on her way to the warrior's den.

A new nest had already been built for her. Letting out a pleased purr, Badgerfall sunk into the soft moss, curling up. 

When she finally drifted off to sleep, her mind was filled with pleasant dreams of starry fields.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 69

Waspdawn brought a litter of four kits to camp with the hopes that a WheatClan queen can nurse them.

[Image ID: Leathermask says to Waspdawn, “They’re quite cute, Waspdawn.” Four gold and white newborns sit in nests. The mostly yellow kit has the caption NEW PLAYER: YELLOWKIT, 0, FEMALE, NOISY. The white kit reads NEW PLAYER: SANDKIT, 0, MALE, SELF-CONSCIOUS. Below him, the dark golden kit reads NEW PLAYER: STORMKIT, 0, FEMALE, KNOW-IT-ALL. Lastly, the white and gold kit reads NEW PLAYER: LITTLEKIT, 0, MALE, SKITTISH.]

The Clan was a hive of chatter when Weedfoot and James returned from their slow walk around the territory. Weedfoot’s pregnancy weighed on her aging bones, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from taking some time to be with her mate. That meant when the pair entered camp once more, a light dusting of snow clinging to their heels, winter’s final push, they had no idea what was going on.

Paleseed, recovered from her bought with whitecough, raced past her mother, her tail weave of red feathers smacking Weedfoot in the face. Spikecrash hurried behind her, ducking between Weedfoot and James. Before Weedfoot could ask them what was the matter, they were gone.

“That’s not like Paleseed,” James muttered. “Do you suppose something’s happened?”

“Our Clan is riled about something,” Weedfoot sighed. Cats sat throughout the camp, eagerly explaining the unknown situation to their kin. A large crowd stood around the nursery. They peered into the nursery with soft gasps and excited whispers. Oilstripe, Lemmy, Clammask, and Harvest herded their kits into one group, keeping them entertained as whatever happened in the nursery unfolded. 

“Mom, we should really get Rattlepelt away from the nursery,” Anchovykit whined. He tried to run past Harvest, but the reddish-brown molly blocked his escape.

“She’s allowed to look,” Harvest huffed. “Why are you so worried about Rattlepelt?”

“Well, um,” Anchovykit gulped, “she, uh…”

“She can get really angry sometimes,” Robinkit said as he paced in front of Clammask and Lemmy, who worked as a team to stop Robinkit and his little patrol of friends from causing mischief. 

“Rattlepelt is having a rough time,” Oilstripe said, taking a break from her story with the well-behaved kits. “None of you need to concern yourself with her. Rattlepelt will be alright.”

“Just sit down!” Lemmy groaned. She jumped in front of Vervainkit before she could squirm around her guards. Weevilkit acted on the gap in their defense before anyone even realized there was a gap. She charged out of the swarm of kits. Clammask swiped at her tail, but the young tortoiseshell acted too quickly for her. She scampered to the dirt place, free from the queens’ imprisonment. Lemmy groaned, but did not chase her daughter.

“Oilstripe, if you’re all out here,” Weedfoot muttered, approaching the chaos, “then what is everyone looking at by the nursery?” Oilstripe’s troubled gaze brightened at the sight of her former mentor.

“It would be better if you went to look for yourself,” Oilstripe chuckled.

“Congratulations,” Slushkit chirped from her spot beside her mother. Weedfoot chuckled, for that was all she could think to do. 

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“And here I thought you were the wit in our relationship,” James chuckled. “Weed, it’s the nursery.” The spark of truth danced in Weedfoot’s mind a moment later. She quickly looked through camp. Paleseed had left, no need to count her. Puddlewhisper spoke to Downstar by the leader’s den. Lavendertwist and Scaleripple were a part of the crowd around the nursery. One kit missing. 

“Waspdawn?” Weedfoot muttered, paws leading her to the nursery. James trotted after her, tail high. As the mates neared the nursery, Scaleripple, who stood near the back, took note of their approach.

“Let my mom in,” Scaleripple said. Though he spoke softly and to no one in particular, the rest of the Clan took notice of Weedfoot’s arrival. They quickly scampered to either side, purring and giggling and staring. Lavendertwist stayed where he was, kneading the sand, dry for the first time in moons.

“Come look!” Lavendertwist cheered in a whisper. Weedfoot’s heart thrashed in her throat as she and her kin entered the nest-covered den.

Leathermask was with Waspdawn inside, constructing a new nest lined with leather. Neither noticed the change to the crowd outside. Waspdawn sat on the edge of Lemmy’s nest, looking down into Weedfoot’s freshly prepared nest. Four little drops of pale honey squirmed in her nest. Weedfoot’s whole face melted at the sight. The four kits couldn’t have been much older than a quarter moon, their fur just beginning to grow out. Each kit was a mixture of gold and white, from the darkest honey to the palest yellow.

“They’re quite cute, Waspdawn,” Leathermask chuckled, turning from his task. He froze when he saw Weedfoot and James staring inside.

“I’ll be good to them,” Waspdawn promised. He dipped a paw into the nest, gently petting the largest of the four kits. The yellow spotted kit mewed loudly and cuddled closer to their father. “I’ve had good mentors in parenthood.”

“I thought Lavendertwist would give us our first grandkits,” James said. Waspdawn’s ears perked up, paw retracting. He turned to the beaming faces of his parents and brothers.

“Wait, you did?” Lavendertwist said. James gently smacked his tail over his son’s face and let it rest there.

“Waspdawn…” Weedfoot whispered. She crept closer to the four kits in her nest. She couldn’t look away.

“Leathermask, could you give us a moment?” James asked.

“A fair request,” Leathermask said awkwardly, ducking his head. He squeezed around Scaleripple, who backed out of the den entirely to give the other warrior room to leave.

“They look just like you,” Weedfoot breathed. She stuck her muzzle into the nest. The darkest colored kit squealed, blind face angling toward the new scent as best she could. The litter was an even split; two toms, two mollies, gold and white splashed equally between them all. The biggest molly looked exactly like Waspdawn had when he first laid nursing at Weedfoot’s belly, a tiny blob named after the apprentice that never got to shine.

“I know you have questions,” Waspdawn sighed, laying beside the nest. “I want to answer them as best I can.”

“The code says you don’t have to,” Scaleripple said, creeping back into the den and examining Leathermask’s newly crafted nest.

“I remember how hurt and confused everyone was when Shadowdrop and Wildclaw brought Tempestshade, Trumpetspore, and Mosspounce to camp,” Waspdawn said. “I don’t want anyone to believe I’m repeating his mistakes.”

“We’re listening, then,” Weedfoot said. She moved closer to her son. Scaleripple sat in the new nest. James and Lavendertwist watched from the nursery’s edge.

“About two months ago, I was by the southern border,” Waspdawn began, “when a loner called me over. Her name was Gwen. She was new to the area and wanted to meet her neighbors. Regardless, we talked for a while. As you might be able to guess, instincts overtook us, and we mated.” Scaleripple draped a paw over his muzzle at the thought, unable to look at his brother. “Soon after, a monster slowed to a stop beside us. Gwen decided to approach them. The humans inside picked her up and took her into the monster before running down the path. I would have thought nothing of it if I didn’t reunite with Gwen half a moon ago.

“Around that time, one of our patrols told Downstar of a confused queen they escorted off the territory. I overheard them. Their description matched that of Gwen. I decided if she had come back after over a moon, she was likely looking for me, so I set off to find her. It didn’t take me long. She was taking shelter with a few of the barn cats in the nearest farm. She had deteriorated since I saw her last. Her fur was poorly kept and she was far too thin for how pregnant she was. She took a while to recognize me. Eventually, I learned the humans she had left with were of the wicked kind. They took her to a small human den with a Clan’s worth of cats trapped inside. They couldn’t leave and had little food.”

“I heard tales of humans like that in my youth,” James sighed, sneering. “Waspdawn, your friend was taken by a human we call cat-minded. They believe themselves to be cats and feel compelled to bring as many cats into their den as possible. Those dens become graves for the unfortunate cats they claim.” Lavendertwist squirmed, shoulder rubbing against his collar. 

“Gwen and another pregnant queen eventually managed to escape,” Waspdawn explained. “I agreed to offer some of my Clan training to further Gwen’s recovery. I’ve spent much of my free hours there, learning from the barn cats just as much as they learned from me. They were able to safely deliver Gwen’s litter a quarter moon ago.” Waspdawn set his chin on the nest with his kits. “When I realized how much they looked like me, I began to see them as mine, not just Gwen’s. The kitting made Gwen’s mind clear, and we were able to discuss what had happened between us. Gwen has no interest in living in the Clans, or any packed colony again. That’s when I offered to claim the litter and raise them here. Gwen decided that it would be better for them to grow up in stability rather than with a wanderer like herself. When they were strong enough to travel, I asked Puddlewhisper and Honeybuzz to assist me in bringing them home.”

“You could have told us,” Weedfoot said. Her paw touched Waspdawn’s.

“I only made the decision to claim them a few days ago,” Waspdawn admitted. He sat up and added, “I made sure I didn’t break the code by helping Gwen. I only provided her with my time and knowledge and took none of the Clan’s resources. I’ll stand trial if I have to and declare my innocence to the entire Clan.”

“You’re not going to trial,” Lavendertwist scoffed. “Really, Waspdawn, everyone knows Rustshade had his second litter with his old WheatClan mate, and no one did a thing about that. Nothing about your story sounds wrong to me.” Lavendertwist made his way around the many nests in the den and bunted heads with his brother.

“Alright, let’s not make that rumor into history,” Weedfoot reminded her brown and white son.

“Paleseed and Spikecrash went to WheatClan to ask for someone to nurse them,” Waspdawn explained. “With no one having milk, I wanted to make sure they ate well. Puddlewhisper is still discussing the situation with Downstar. She… may be annoyed that I didn't tell her about the kits.”

“She will get over it as soon as she sees these cute furballs,” Lavendertwist laughed. He waved his tail over the kits’ tiny noses, drawing their limited attention.

“They’re old enough for names,” Scaleripple noted with a twitch of his ears.

“I let their mother name them,” Waspdawn said. “Her last gift to them.” He carefully stepped into the nest with his kits. He nosed each one, naming them as he went. “Yellowkit… Sandkit… Littlekit… and Stormkit.”

“I like those names!” Lavendertwist cheered. “I might take naming inspiration from you when I have kits of my own!” Lavendertwist’s expression softened as he stared at his nieces and nephews. He hummed softly, thoughts unknowable. Eventually, he puffed up his chest and said, “I’ll be back soon.” 

He marched out of the nursery like a warrior on a mission. He quickly found his target by the warrior’s den. Weedfoot looked outside; Lavendertwist was staring at Elmsprout.

“Elmsprout!” Lavendertwist called, tail hooked overhead. Elmsprout, who had been making the finishing touches on the Clan’s evening meal with Rabbitjoy, looked up quickly. “How would you like to have my kits someday?” Weedfoot groaned, turning her head from the disaster. Scaleripple, in an uncharacteristic show of playfulness, snorted. James shook his head, sighing.

“Why would you phrase it like that?” Elmsprout yowled across camp as the entire Clan stared at her and Lavendertwist. Their heads flicked back and forth as though watching birds flutter through the trees.

“Because I want to have a family with you someday!”

“And you ask me now?”

“Why not?”

“Why yowl at me from the other side of camp?”

“I didn’t want to wait!”

“If you want to be my mate, just ask me that!”

“Okay! Do you want to be my mate?”

“Is this really working?” James muttered, sticking his head out of the den.

“I’ve wanted that for moons,” Elmsprout laughed. She bounded away from the oven and joined Lavendertwist outside the nursery. The Clan cheered as they rubbed pelts, laughing all the while. James joined his son, bunting his shoulder in congratulations.

“Now you’ll say you’re planning to have kits,” Weedfoot purred, looking over at Scaleripple.

“I don’t,” Scaleripple said, literal as ever. “I don’t think Tempestshade and I ever planned to have kits. I just wanted to be their companion.” Weedfoot could think of nothing to say. She turned back to her grandkits. Her first grandkits! StarClan, did that make her feel old. How much of the gray in her pelt was from her age? 

“Sandkit looks more like you than me, I think,” Waspdawn hummed as his kits searched for a warm belly. “Who knows? Maybe one of them will be like you, Scaleripple.” Scaleripple left the nest and joined his kin by the newborns. He stared at the four golden lumps, squirming and settling into deep sleep. Something in his eyes sparkled.

“I would kill for them,” he said. He locked his eyes on Waspdawn with a more focused stare than Weedfoot had ever seen from her youngest son.

“I think we all would,” Weedfoot purred. She nuzzled her grandkits, bathing in the warm joy of their tiny bodies.

(Weedfoot: 118, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(James: 145, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Anchovykit: 4, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Harvest: 57, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Robinkit: 4, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Oilstripe: 73, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Lemmy: 46, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)

(Weevilkit: 4, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Slushkit: 5, female, kit, polite, quick witted)

(Scaleripple: 22, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Lavendertwist: 35, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Leathermask: 17, male, warrior, nervous, great speaker, good fighter)

(Waspdawn: 35, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Yellowkit: 0, female, kit, noisy)

(Sandkit: 0, male, kit, self-conscious)

(Littlekit: 0, male, kit, skittish)

(Stormkit: 0, female, kit, know-it-all)

(Elmsprout: 36, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

While showing Harvest around the territory, helping her find a place in the Clan as she raises her kits, a kittypet asks about joining the Clan with her five kits.

[Image ID: Estherfern, a brown tabby with sunlit eyes, says “It seems your ancestors have an interest in me.” Under her, it says NEW PLAYER: ESTHERFERN, 103, FEMALE, BLOODTHIRSTY, GREAT MEDIATOR, PROPHECY SEEKER, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Beside her are five kits. The solid lilac molly reads NEW PLAYER: THUNDERKIT, 1, FEMALE, BULLYING, MOSS-BALL HUNTER. The dark brown kit says NEW PLAYER: BOUGHKIT, 1, FEMALE, QUIET, CONSTANTLY CLIMBING. The gold tom reads NEW PLAYER: BRIGHTKIT, 1, MALE, SHY, LOVER OF ART. The ticked kit reads NEW PLAYER: FOAMKIT, 1, FEMALE, UNRULY, ALWAYS WANDERING. The last brown molly reads NEW PLAYER: WOLVERINEKIT, 1, FEMALE, SKITTISH, ALWAYS ASKING QUESTIONS.]

---

When Oilstripe was a WheatClan kit, she spent a lot of time asking the various cats of the Clan whether she would make a good warrior or artisan or whatever role they held. Considering how much she loved hearing their stories, the path of a historian seemed obvious to her now. Yet if that worked for her, perhaps Harvest, who had yet to declare herself in any official role beside a humble queen, needed that same chance to hear what it was like to follow a certain path through the Clans.

Oilstripe, Puddlewhisper, Carnationspeckle, and Halibutdusk sat with Harvest on a hill in the open southern lands, where sunhigh reminded them all of spring’s return as they bathed in its yellow beams. It was the perfect spot to survey the territory. While cold air still nibbled at their pelts and the trees showed no sign yet of newborn buds, the longer days left rich mud and life across the land. Harvest sat with her tail twitching while everyone else lounged about, sinking into the dull, tan grass.

“If you choose to be a warrior, there isn’t much you have to learn,” Halibutdusk explained, stretching out his front legs. “You’ll help out where needed and go on patrols. Your old friend taught you how to fight, so you won’t need extra training.”

“It sounds nice,” Harvest admitted, head tucked down, “but Oakface would brag about the other positions in Clan life. I feel I’d be dishonoring him if I didn’t consider them.”

“If you want to spend more time in the nursery,” Carnationspeckle purred, laying in an awkward looking yet shockingly comfortable heap, “you can become a caretaker. Some caretakers choose to spend all their time in the nursery as permanent helpers. Would that interest you?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Harbest gulped, “I love raising my kits, but I don’t want to be stuck in the nursery forever.”

“If you have an interest in order and justice, you should become a codekeeper,” Puddlewhisper pointed out as she itched her back paw. “We spend a lot of our time assisting Downstar and Weedfoot in organizing the Clan and honoring the code.”

“Don’t forget historians!” Oilstripe chirped, stretched out in an arch along the grass. “There’s a lot to learn, but our stories are important.”

“It’s just as overwhelming as when Oakface described them,” Harvest laughed awkwardly. “It’s so strange to say I’ll only do certain tasks the rest of my life.”

“That’s not what we’re saying, don’t worry,” Carnationspeckle promised. She tapped her paw against Harvest’s. “You can always make a change later on. No one will blame you if you take more time deciding!”

“You might need to join some patrols, though,” Puddlewhisper pointed out. “It’s important to contribute.”

“Of course,” Harvest said. “There’s so much to do now that I’m here. I hope to experience as much as I can.”

“And I hope we can fulfill your dreams,” Carnationspeckle chirped. Puddlewhisper lifted her head, ears turning south. She squinted, pupils narrow in the shiny sunlight.

“Someone just crossed the border,” she said, getting to her paws. Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Halibutdusk followed her lead, claws out. “You can see them in the distance.” The Clan cats quickly followed Puddlewhisper’s gaze.

The intruder was nothing more than a speck in the grass from that distance. Oilstripe couldn’t even smell if they were a tom or a molly. Their dark fur was a shard of dull ocean rock thrown into the middle of the land, smooth from moons upon moons battered by the waves. They wandered deeper into RippleClan as though they were on patrol.

“If this is one of the same barn cats that keep trespassing,” Halibutdusk sighed, “we might have to show force.” 

“Something feels different about them,” Puddlewhisper muttered, eyes narrowing even more. “I can’t explain it.”

“I can,” Oilstripe said. As the intruder drew closer, Oilstripe saw another shape slipping through the grass. His ginger fur and white-wrapped torso were stuck in Oilstripe’s memory. He seemed to lead the newcomer toward the small gathering. Now why was Fennelspot leading a stranger over the border?

Carnationspeckle was the first to trot downhill, silky fur swaying softly. The others followed single file, all eyes on the stranger. The wind carried a molly’s scent to Oilstripe’s nose. The brown molly had bright bicolored eyes, coolly watching the incoming patrol. Fennelspot stopped when the patrol grew close. He looked to Oilstripe, familiar eyes easing any concerns she had of the intruder. With a low nod and a quick blink, Fennelspot vanished, leaving just the brown molly to tackle.

“Excuse us,” Carnationspeckle coughed. The brown molly sat undisturbed, eyes drifting over each cat. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’re trespassing on our Clan’s territory. You’ve crossed our border by the horse path.” The others spread out around Carnationspeckle.

“I’m aware,” the stranger purred. Her tone was light and airy, a whispering wind or tuft of smoke blown from an oven where stew simmered and watered the mouths of passersby. 

“Then you know you’ll be escorted out,” Puddlewhisper huffed. “We don’t allow outsiders to wander into our land as they please.”

“I believe there is supposed to be an exception for me,” the stranger sighed. “My name is Esther, though from what I know, my name will change slightly when I join you. It seems your ancestors have an interest in me.” The patrol shared glances, shifting awkwardly, wondering if any of them had a good answer to Esther’s odd declaration.

“How would you know that?” Harvest asked, back arched slightly.

“I would be happy to tell you,” Esther said, getting up, “but first, would you help me with my kits?”

“Your kits?” Carnstionspeckle gasped, peering about like the kits would suddenly pop out of the grass.

“I’ve left them just by your border,” Esther explained. She flicked her tail the way she came. She sauntered off, but paused when no paw steps followed behind. “I didn’t wander into one of those territorial Clans, have I? The sort to leave a queen and her kits alone?”

“We’ll help,” Oilstripe promised. She gave everyone a cautious, knowing look. That was all Carnationspeckle needed to follow Esther toward the border. Harvest, Halibutdusk, and Puddlewhisper lingered behind while Oilstripe joined her mate. If Fennelspot was leading Esther into RippleClan (whether or not anyone knew he was there), then Esther couldn’t be a danger.

Esther led the patrol to the horse path, quiet of any rolling monsters. Esther was just another patch of mud in the recovering grass, a spot of brown in a sea of tan. Oilstripe could smell the kits before she saw the small dip in the ground some ways beyond the horse path. Esther crawled into the dip and nuzzled the tiny bodies tucked within.

“Hello, my darlings,” Estherfern purred. Five kits mewed with delight at their mother’s return. They were all earth-colored, ranging between brown and pale tan. Almost all of them sported Esther’s sunlit eyes. There was only one tom in the bunch. All five stared wide-eyed at the Clan cats. The tom and the brown tabby hopped over Esther and hid behind her. The dark brown kit stood on Esther to get a better view of them. The two pale mollies, however, scurried out of their makeshift nest and stared down Oilstripe.

“So many kits…” Puddlewhisper muttered as Esther pawed at her wayward daughters, urging them back to her side. 

“Tom cats!” the brown tabby gasped, peeking out from behind Esther. “Are you tom cats? Momma, you brought tom cats!”

“I’m a molly,” Puddlewhisper huffed, tucking into herself. “Halibutdusk isn’t a tom, either. They’re separate from toms and mollies.” Where Puddlewhisper seemed like she’d rather sink through the grass at the comment, Halibutdusk simply nodded, tail sagging.

“You can be something else?” one of the pale colored kits gasped, eyes sparkling. 

“Wolverinekit, don’t ask rude questions,” Esther warned, “and Thunderkit, don’t pester them.” Thunderkit stuck her tongue at her mother. A sharp glare from Esther sent Thunderkit scrambling toward her dark brown sister.

“They have Clan names,” Oilstripe realized. “How do you know how we name our kits?”

“I asked,” Esther purred. She glanced at the thin clouds above. “I’ve named my kits Thunderkit, Boughkit, Brightkit, Foamkit, and Wolverinekit.” Each kit jumped up at the sound of their name. Thunderkit and Foamkit were the pale mollies, one solid, one ticked. Boughkit was the dark brown kit, Brightkit was the golden-brown tom, leaving Wolverinekit as the curious long-furred tabby.

“I need an explanation before I lead you to our camp,” Puddlewhisper huffed, taking the lead. “It’s fine to ask to join our ranks, Harvest here did the same with her kits only a few moons ago.”

“Hello,” Harvest said with an awkward twitch of her tail.

“But claiming you’ve spoken to StarClan?” Puddlewhisper scoffed, unable to stop her ears from going flat. “I just don’t trust it, kits or no kits. So before I feel comfortable helping you, I want to understand what you’re suggesting.”

“Take a deep breath, Puddlewhisper,” Oilstripe said. She touched her tail to Puddlewhisper’s side. “Believe me when I say, there’s at least some truth to what Esther is saying.” Oilstripe turned to Esther and added, “She is right, though. I want to know what led you here.”

“Are you expecting my life’s story?” Esther sighed. Her son crawled under her chin. Esther groomed Brightkit’s head, earning a purr.

“Tell us how you know about StarClan,” Oilstripe said, sitting at the edge of the dip.

“Where I come from,” Esther sighed, “far to the west, prophecy is commonplace, if not more straightforward than what your ancestors love to craft. A prophecy is no more than a message from our God. When my God told me to travel east and find the five Clans, who was I to say no? I am needed here, apparently. I would have been here moons upon moons ago, if not for the human who snatched me in my sleep and threw me into her den. It was not the sort of place one could escape from, all filth and violence and too many cats in too small a space.”

“That…” Puddlewhisper muttered, pacing to the other side of the dip, “sounds familiar.” She studied the five kits, who all watched her like she would become a fearsome bear, ready to strike at any moment. “Esther, do you know a cat named Gwen?”

“She and I found a way out of that cesspool close to a moon ago,” Esther said. “By then, I had fallen pregnant, but I made do. They’re quite cute, after all.” Boughkit slid off Esther’s back with a small squeal, earning Thunderkit’s mockery. “While I rotted away, however, I began to hear more from your ancestors in my dreams. I was thrown off guard by their way of speaking, but I grew to find the meaning in their metaphors. Their prophecies told me how to find you, how to escape, and how to name my kits.” Wolverinekit stared bug-eyed at Puddlewhisper as the gray molly thought through Esther’s story.

“Do you believe her, Oilstripe?” Puddlewhisper asked. Oilstripe loafed at the dip’s edge, carefully staring at Esther.

“Can you describe any of the cats from your dream, Esther?” Oilstripe wondered. 

“Oh, there were a few over the moons,” Esther sighed. “None gave me their name. The most common sight in the last few moons has been… a tailless tortoiseshell, gray and ginger.”

“Parsley?” Carnationspeckle gasped. While Harvest was unphased by the name, everyone else paid a bit more attention to Esther. 

“If StarClan has called you here,” Halibutdusk asked, “then you must have some idea as to why.”

“I can give you their last prophecy to me,” Esther purred as Wolverinekit and Brightkit started nibbling at each other. “But I need to know you’ll escort me to your camp. I need to secure a safe home for my kits.”

“There’s no reason we wouldn’t, right Oilstripe?” Harvest said with a friendly cock of her tail.

“If you have so much experience with prophecies,” Oilstripe said as Foamkit once again left the dip and sniffed around the Clan cats’ legs, “RippleClan could use your expertise as one of our clerics.”

“I want to hear this prophecy, first,” Puddlewhisper huffed. Foamkit pawed at Puddlewhisper’s leg. Puddlewhisper peered down, curious. Foamkit wiggled her flank and launched at Puddlewhisper. She clawed up Puddlewhisper’s leg and stood on Puddlewhisper’s back. Puddlewhisper could only stand stunned for a moment before she suddenly started laughing. “Oh, do you want a horse ride?”

“What’s a—” Foamkit said, but she wasn’t fast enough. Puddlewhisper kicked and bucked like a frantic horse. Foamkit dug her claws in, squealing and laughing the whole way. The other kits wooed and awed at the sight, running toward Puddlewhisper. They chased after her as Foamkit held on for her short life.

“Well, while you’re busy mangling my daughter,” Esther sighed, “I’ll give you the prophecy.” Esther climbed out of the dip and cleared her throat. “Ferns spread spores across fertile soil. There is much to learn from their growth, good and bad.”

“Sounds like your average prophecy,” Oilstripe admitted. “I don’t think Downstar and Weedfoot will have any issues with you joining the Clan as another cleric. I’m sure Honeybuzz and my daughter, Troutpool, would appreciate the extra paws.”

“I know you gave your kits Clan names,” Carnationspeckle pointed out, “but you don’t have to change your name if you don’t want to. There are plenty of cats who keep their old names in RippleClan, like James!”

“Thank you, but I actually decided on a Clan-like name while I was recovering from my kitting,” the strange brown molly said. “I was hoping to be called Estherfern. I believe the name to be appropriate

(Oilstripe: 73, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Halibutdusk: 60, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Harvest: 57, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Carnationspeckle: 71, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Puddlewhisper: 35, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense)

(Fennelspot: 113, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Estherfern: 103, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Wolverinekit: 1, female, kit, skittish, always asking questions)

(Thunderkit: 1, female, kit, bullying, moss-ball hunter)

(Boughkit: 1, female, kit, quiet, constantly climbing)

(Brightkit: 1, male, kit, shy, lover of art)

(Foamkit: 1, female, kit, unruly, always wandering)

Rattlepelt eavesdrops on Wolfkit.

[Image ID: Anchovykit says to Wolfkit, “She scares me, Wolfkit! My mom won’t believe me!” Rattlepelt listens in from the side.]

---

A kit just couldn’t get any privacy in RippleClan, it seemed. 

The first place Anchovykit tried to speak to Wolfkit was between the Shiprock and the medicine den. It was blocked off enough, so cats would have given them a bit of privacy. But new arrival Estherfern was causing a fuss in the medicine den, complaining about the herbs inside (“How can I focus on developing my relationship with your higher powers when you want me to crush leaves and roots all day?”). So that wouldn’t have been a good place to talk.

Anchovykit tried the quarantine den next. No one was there, so no one would interrupt. Except he then remembered just how many cats passed by to make dirt…. Not the right place.

He didn’t even stop to consider the nursery. Clammask and Lemmy were still talking to the visiting WheatClan queen about whether she needed to stick around and nurse Waspdawn’s kits, or if Estherfern could assist in the task. With well over a dozen kits of all ages inside, Anchovykit wouldn’t have been able to think, let alone talk to Wolfkit.

That was when he remembered that Mitepaw was the only apprentice in the Clan, and she had just left to collect wood with Rabbitjoy. The apprentice’s den was completely empty. The perfect place to talk.

“Anchovykit, why do you need to be so secretive?” Wolfkit sighed as Anchovykit led her into the apprentice’s den. The setting sun cast the entire den in deep shadow, better hiding the pair.

“Because this is really important!” Anchovykit huffed. With just the one nest inside, the den felt rather barren. The planks covering the roof seemed hollow in comparison to the secure stone walls of the nursery. Regardless, Anchovykit sat to the side, urging Wolfkit deeper into the darkness.

“So what is it?” Wolfkit asked. Anchovykit held his breath, trying to build up his courage and words.

“Did you talk to Spikecrash last moon about seeing things that weren’t there?” he gulped. Wolfkit pinned her big ears flat.

“How do you know about that?” Wolfkit whined.

“I overheard Spikecrash and Paleseed discuss it while I was making dirt,” Anchovykit admitted. “Wolfkit, I need to know! Do you see things glow, too? Do you see what’s wrong with Rattlepelt?” Anchovykit’s ears were as flat as Wolfkit’s.

“What’s wrong with Rattlepelt?” Wolfkit gulped.

“The ooze!” Anchovykit cried, stamping his paw. “The black stuff! The… oh what did she call it? The ichor! It’s all over her! She scares me, Wolfkit! My mom won’t believe me!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wolfkit whined.

“You know how mad she gets sometimes!” Anchovykit groaned. “Didn’t you see her yell at Mitepaw and Elmsprout yesterday?”

Anchovykit didn’t know what started the fight. He had been with Robinkit, Silverkit, and Vervainkit, learning a hunter’s crouch from Scaleripple. Mitepaw and Elmsprout had been talking about AshClan woodwork, the former showing off some of her pieces to Ravenkit. She had carved a bird’s wing out of a chunk of fallen wood, much to Ravenkit’s awe. It was in the midst of this happy moment that Rattlepelt appeared, giving into her own rage like a fire devouring the last of its fuel and surging upward in defiance. In Anchovykit’s unique eyes, Rattlepelt���s gaze shifted between the dark copper described by others and a burning, hateful yellow, her ichor smearing the sand. Oh how she had raged against Mitepaw and Elmsprout, screaming of traitors and false loyalty. It took both Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn to drag Rattlepelt away from the terrified mollies, the mediators hot on her trail, ready to uncover the truth of the outburst. 

But Anchovykit knew. He’d known for moons.

“There’s something wrong with Rattlepelt, and no one will believe me,” Anchovykit groaned. “It’s more than anger. I think she’s cursed! I thought you saw it too!”

“That’s not what I talked to Spikecrash about,” Wolfkit muttered, staring at her paws. “I see something else.”

“Do you see the future too?” Anchovykit and Wolfkit jumped, backs arched comically high. Weevilkit stood at the den’s entrance, shaking sand out of her pelt.

“It’s not nice to eavesdrop, Weevilkit!” Wolfkit huffed as her sister joined the duo inside.

“I only heard the last little bit,” Weevilkit insisted. “Now tell me what it is you see!”

“No, wait,” Anchovykit said, trying to smooth out the surprise prickling his pelt, “did you say you see the future?”

“Well, I’ve been keeping it a secret,” Weevilkit chuckled with a cocky sway of her flank. “I want to shock the clerics when I become an apprentice. I don’t want them to be jealous of how special I am.”

“Do you get visions from StarClan?” Wolfkit asked.

“Not like the clerics,” Weevilkit purred. “I see things just before they happen. Like when Estherfern arrived today! I saw her enter camp just before she actually entered camp. I’ve been seeing things like this for a while now. I didn’t know what it was at first, but now I know that it’s just what makes me special!”

“Oh, I know the word for that!” Wolfkit gasped. “Premonitions!”

“That’s it!” Weevilkit chirped, bouncing. “Do you have them too?”

“I see something else,” Anchovykit said, a bit more confident than when Weevilkit first interrupted. “I think it’s… influence. I see what StarClan touches, I think. If they like a place or person, it glows. I think I uncurse cats, too! I had a dream where a StarClan cat helped me uncurse Tempestshade so they could go to StarClan.” Wolfkit and Weevilkit looked at Anchovykit like they would look at a great hero of the Clans.

“So we’re both special,” Weevilkit gasped. She shoved Wolfkit and said, “What do you see, what do you see?”

“I don’t know if I actually see anything,” Wolfkit gulped, sitting with a plop, gaze stuck downward. “There was just something weird that happened last moon. I don’t think it’s happened since.”

“Well, try to make it happen again,” Weevilkit insisted. “What was it?”

“Um…” Wolfkit muttered. “I was playing with Yarrowkit, and I ran in front of her and glared at her like this.” Wolfkit lifted her eyes and stared at Anchovykit.

There was no moment between Wolfkit’s stare and what happened next. Anchovykit was on the ground, Weevilkit standing on his shoulder, smacking his head. Wolfkit crouched in on herself, shaking.

“Anchovykit!” Weevilkit yowled. She smacked Anchovykit’s face again. Anchovykit shoved her off.

“What was that?” he snapped.

“You weren’t breathing,” Wolfkit whined, swallowing hard. “You wouldn’t answer us. You weren’t doing anything. It was just like with Yarrowkit.”

“I don’t remember anything,” Anchovykit huffed, shaking out his pelt.

“Wolfkit, stare at me this time!” Weevilkit chirped, bounding away from Anchovykit and sitting in Mitepaw’s nest.

“Okay,” Wolfkit gulped. She turned her fearful gaze to Weevilkit. 

Anchovykit stared, waiting for something to happen. Except nothing did. Anchovykit quickly realized that was the point. Weevilkit did not move a single whisker. She did not blink. She did not breathe. Her eyes seemed hollow, frozen in a memory, a moment that had passed her by but that she could not leave.

“How do you stop it?” Anchovykit gasped. Wolfkit blinked hard. Weevilkit snapped back to life, once again wiggling with anticipation for something that already happened. She realized what she had missed as soon as she looked over at Anchovykit.

“We’re all special!” Weevilkit cheered. She ran to Wolfkit, nuzzling her sister. “We’re all special! I love it! You freeze people, Wolfkit! You’re special!” Wolfkit beamed in her sister’s praise. “Let’s go, let’s go! Let’s celebrate! We’re special!” Weevilkit charged out of the apprentice’s den. Caught up in the moment, Anchovykit and Wolfkit ran after her.

Rattlepelt was sitting directly next to the apprentice’s den. Anchovykit skidded in the sand at the sight of the furious, unnatural yellow eyes that only he could see. The ichor that pooled around Rattlepelt’s legs stained the leather she had been mending. Her claws poked through the leather. Anchovykit’s legs went numb. How much had she heard?

“This way!” Weevilkit snapped, nipping at Anchovykit’s scruff. The excitement and joy that had consumed her a moment before had vanished, replaced with a stiff terror. Weevilkit led Wolfkit toward the dirt-place. Anchovykit ran after them, just as Rattlepelt got to her paws.

Weevilkit skirted around the shipwreck and dove into the empty quarantine den. Anchovykit and Wolfkit scrambled to keep up, panting as their little hearts beat hard.

“I had another pree-me,” Weevilkit gulped.

“Premonition,” Wolfkit said softly.

“Rattlepelt was about to get really, really mad at us,” Weevikit said, shivering. “Is she following us?” Anchovykit glanced outside. The dirt-place was empty. No sign of Rattlepelt.

“There’s something wrong with her,” Anchovykit huffed. “Special cats always use their powers for good in stories, right? I think we need to use ours against Rattlepelt.”

“Maybe we should tell an adult,” Wolfkit suggested, glancing outside. 

“They won’t believe us,” Anchovykit huffed. “Waspdawn’s litter is so small! We have to keep them safe from Rattlepelt.”

“Would she hurt them?” Wolfkit gulped.

“You don’t see her like I do,” Anchovykit huffed, trying once more to be brave. “I think with her curse, she’s capable of anything.”

(Anchovykit: 4, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfkit: 4, female, kit, polite, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Weevilkit: 4, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Rattlepelt: 52, female, artisan, bloodthirsty, leather artist)

[rippleclan]

Man how am I 50 notes late to my own fanart?

Thus, the kitocalypse.