#snowstep's path

[bearfrosts]

i just remembered that there's a cat named moonpaw in my warriors rewrite (the one where like four cats that died as kits in canon all survive and shit happens including leafpool not being a meddie and moving to windclan) and she's the daughter of jayfeather and furzepelt. she's named after half moon.

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || From the Beginning || Patreon & Ko-Fi >>

Chapter 3

The walk back to ThunderClan territory was long, tense, and mostly quiet. More than anything, it was humiliating. Though RiverClan and ShadowClan’s territories were empty of patrols this early in the morning, Shadepool could almost feel their warriors watching from the shadows of every bush. Were they laughing? Did they find it funny that ThunderClan was being forced to take the long way home?

Orange dawn light streaked the sky as the ThunderClan patrol crossed into ShadowClan territory, and by the time they had forded the stream and made it across their own border and into the forest, the sun had risen fully. It was just another humiliation, taking so long, and the entire patrol felt it, with shuffling paws and dragging tails.

“I hope the dawn patrol went out on time,” muttered Dustpelt as they stepped into ThunderClan territory. Shadepool glanced over her shoulder – the dark tabby warrior was clustered with Mousefur, Brightheart, and Sootfur just behind her.

“Graystripe took care of it, I’m sure,” Brightheart assured. She stepped over a large, fallen stick, brought down by the recent blizzards.

Dustpelt raised his lip in a scoff. “Graystripe could hardly ever get his apprentices up on time, you think he can handle waking up a whole patrol? Or waking up for one himself?”

Brightheart rolled her eye, though Shadepool saw Sootfur’s whiskers twitch in amusement. Mousefur’s voice was stiff and certain, however: “Come off it, Dustpelt. The patrols are fine – no cat wants to get an earful from you...”

Dustpelt looked like he might complain further, but Tinystar’s voice stopped him. The Clan leader didn’t look back, only yowled, “Ferncloud! Snowstep! Come up here, now!” and continued on his way, leading the patrol along the winding, up-and-down paths through the forest.

Ferncloud and Snowstep obeyed, hurrying away from whatever conversation they were having with Sun, Mistyfoot, and Nightfrost. Shadepool watched the couple huddle around Tinystar and Brackenfur, heads bent close.

“Wonder what they’re talking about?” Nightfrost wondered, sidling up to his sister.

Shadepool twitched her whiskers, curious herself. She longed to go up and listen, but she imagined that Brackenfur would simply tell her that it wasn’t her place, which made her pelt flash with annoyance.

I may have my full name, but I'm still just an apprentice in his eyes.

To distract herself, she glanced at Sun. The young she-cat's expression was troubled, and Shadepool wondered, “Are you alright?”

Sun flicked an ear. “I am fine,” she responded, sounding uncertain about it. “But, well, I’m sure you understand that I wasn’t expecting such a thing at a Gathering...”

Shadepool blinked in understanding. This must be so hard for you to wrap your head around. This Gathering had been her debut as a full warrior of ThunderClan after leaving her home in the mountains, and Shadepool felt sorry that such a momentous occasion had been taken from her new Clanmate by such dismal news.

“Not all Gatherings are like this one,” Nightfrost assured. He brushed his tail along Sun’s flank. “I think every Clan is going to be reeling from what happened last night for a while, though...”

Sun’s expression only grew more clouded. “The Tribe never had these sorts of issues,” she pointed out.

Mistyfoot drew close and mewed gently, “The Tribe do not share their mountains with anyone else. Here, Sun, you must remember – ThunderClan isn’t the only Clan around, and the Clans have hardly ever seen eye to eye on anything.”

Sun frowned. “But to accuse us of something so heinous? Has the Great Journey meant nothing after all?”

Shadepool glanced between Nightfrost and Mistyfoot, feeling a twinge of discomfort in her stomach. They must be thinking the same thing – that the journey they had taken, all the hardship and loss they endured to bring the Clans to their new home, was for naught.

The unity borne from the Great Journey had faded like mist in the moonlight at the power of Mudstar's words, and now the grass beneath their paws was as dry and cold as it had ever been. The worthlessness of it all was overpowering.

“I don’t think that’s fully true,” Nightfrost mewed. He was trying to sound optimistic, and he gave Sun a playful nudge. “Some cats just can’t stop holding on to grudges no matter what, and Mudcl-Mudstar is one of them, for sure!”

“Yes,” Mistyfoot agreed hastily. Her expression was unreadable. “That's exactly it. Every cat has their own agenda.”

Sun frowned. “I suppose,” she mumbled.

Mistyfoot's eyes sparkled when she looked down at Nightfrost, as if she were grateful for his words, and Nightfrost’s shone right back at her. Shadepool had to look away. The feeling creeping in between her ears from her brother was so warm, so happy – it felt inappropriate to partake in.

She tried instead to focus on Crowflight. This entire situation was so baffling, and Shadepool was struggling to understand that the cat she loved was now the deputy of a WindClan that hated ThunderClan with every hair on their pelts – but despite all of that, he still wanted to meet her. Surely that meant that some sense could be made of the whole thing!

We ought to be able to figure this out, she thought, determination warming her limbs, staving away the cold. Surely he has something I can use to help us out of this situation?

It was nearly sunhigh as the Gathering patrol drew close to the tightly woven gorse bushes that formed the camp walls. They were each and all cold, tired, and more than a little annoyed with the long trip they'd had to take. Shadepool herself did not look forward to subsequent Gatherings feeling like another Great Journey, herself - all the more reason to find a way out of this mess, with whatever she and Crowflight could come up with.

Tinystar drew them to a halt just outside the entrance with a flick of his tail. When the cats in the patrol were all gathered around him, he raised his chin to speak:

“I know you are all tired,” he meowed, “and each one of you will be spared from patrols or hunting parties for the day while you rest.” Tinystar’s sharp gaze leveled on his Clanmates. “Say nothing of this Gathering to the Clan until I've had the chance to speak about it.”

“When will that be?” Dustpelt demanded.

Tinystar flicked an ear. “I intend to call a Clan meeting immediately.”

“Good,” Mousefur grunted. Her shoulders were squared. “But is there a plan?”

Tinystar did not reply for a moment. Shadepool sensed her Clanmate’s growing restlessness in the way that Mousefur shifted her shoulders. The others were just as expectant - surely Tinystar had a plan, right?

After a moment of silence, her father meowed: “This is not a situation we can take lightly. I’ll be open to any ideas from the senior warriors, once everyone else is informed.”

Mousefur’s pale eyes flashed in surprise. “But-”

“Mousefur, there’s really nothing else I can do right at this moment,” Tinystar interjected, his tone sharp. Shadepool knew he was just as tired as everyone else, and his temper was wearing thin. “I need to tell the Clan before there are any wider discussions.”

Mousefur closed her jaws. She glanced at Dustpelt, who looked equally disgruntled – but Tinystar stood strong. Shadepool knew her father was right, that this needed to be handled properly; but she couldn’t help but feel a lump form in her throat.

What if he couldn’t handle it? 

———————————————————

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highledge for a Clan meeting!”

Tinystar’s voice echoed, bouncing off of the stone walls that encircled ThunderClan’s camp. It was certainly effective for drawing out any cat that hadn’t already gone out for an assigned patrol, though the meeting was well-timed – Shadepool counted heads, and it seemed like every ThunderClan cat was going to be present for this one.

They might wish otherwise, she thought grimly, once they hear the news.

“We got worried when you weren't back on time,” Cloudtail purred, shaking dried leaves from her pelt as she emerged from the warrior’s den. She was quick to touch noses with Brightheart, relief in her eyes. “Graystripe wanted to send out a patrol to look for you...”

Swiftfoot was only a moment behind, his broad shoulders carrying snow from the branches of the den that he didn't bother to shake off. “What’s all this about?” he asked roughly, brushing his muzzle with Brightheart's.

“You’ll see,” Brightheart sighed, flicking the snow piles from Swiftfoot's shoulders with her paws. She drew her mates close, and they settled into the crowd. Whitewing, their daughter, joined them a moment later, just coming in from a hunting patrol with Rainwhisker and Spiderpaw.

After hauling their catch to the fresh-kill pile, Spiderpaw found her mentor, Mousefur, who didn’t seem thrilled to sit with her apprentice for the meeting. Spiderpaw was the only apprentice in the Clan at the moment, though, and thus she got her way in some regards.

Sootfur was barraged with questions by Rainwhisker as they went to join Sorreltail and Sun, but Shadepool saw them both hold firm and stay silent. Dustpelt touched noses with Cinderpelt, and Shadepool guessed she knew her mate well enough not to ask just yet. They sat with Ashfur, Graystripe, and Silverstream, and Longtail sat down close by, his ears twitching in the direction of any nearby conversation.

Shadepool saw a flash of gray and white out of the corner of her eye – Ferncloud and Snowstep had both retreated to the nursery, which made Shadepool curious. Did they have permission to miss the meeting? Was Larchkit ill? She was about to turn and ask, but Nightfrost stopped her. 

“Sit with us?” he invited.

Shadepool frowned. Her brother was sitting with Mistyfoot, near Mousefur and Spiderpaw and Rainwhisker. Nightfrost was sitting quite close to Mistyfoot, their flanks touching, and that wasn't just to leave room for Shadepool, she guessed.

She sensed that she had little choice – it was a bit late to sit by Brackenfur beneath the Highledge, as Tinystar was already gearing up to speak, and she would have to make her way through an entire crowd to get to them. She hurried over to her littermate and ended up squeezing in between him and Rainwhisker.

“I’m guessing last night didn’t go well?” Rainwhisker hissed, leaning close. “Soot here won’t tell me a thing, and Sun's jaws are sealed, for once!”

“You could say that,” Shadepool offered, tentatively.

“Cats of ThunderClan!” Tinystar’s meow rose high. “As I am sure you are all aware by now, I and my Gathering patrol have arrived far later than anticipated. I apologize for any undue worry, but we were forced to take an alternate route around the lake."

“Forced?” questioned Longtail. His ears focused intensely on Tinystar, the scarred lids of his eyes twitching as if they were trying to narrow. “How?”

“We all have the right to travel around the lake, especially for Gatherings,” Cinderpelt added, confused. “We agreed on that at the Arrival.”

“I know,” Tinystar meowed on, his tone stretched thin. “However, something has happened that has changed our circumstances.”

Shadepool saw her father steady himself. She couldn’t imagine the pain and sorrow he was feeling, having to say what he was going to say.

“After the battle on the moors, Onewhisker and Barkface went to the Moonpool,” Tinystar explained. “However, before they could contact StarClan, they were ambushed. Onewhisker was killed, and Barkface was reportedly savagely wounded.”

“Great StarClan!” gasped Rainwhisker. His eyes went wide to their whites, and Shadepool felt his pelt bristle in alarm.

“W-What?!” Cinderpelt’s mew was full of horror. She glanced at Dustpelt, who confirmed with a somber nod. Cinderpelt whispered, “Who would do such a thing?!”

Spiderpaw was bristling, and Shadepool saw her limbs shake. “Is WindClan okay?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Yes, are they? Who leads them now?” wondered Graystripe. His tone was full of concern. “If Ashfoot and Onewhisker are both dead...” Graystripe trailed off, clearly hurt by the news, then mustered the strength to ask: “Onewhisker appointed a new deputy before he left, right?”

Tinystar took a breath, his gaze darkening. “This is where things get a bit more complicated, I’m afraid – Onewhisker apparently appointed no deputy before he left. After the attack, Mudclaw was allegedly chosen to lead WindClan by some sort of consensus that he did not disclose.” Tinystar blinked, slowly. “He is Mudstar now, and he has chosen Crowflight as his deputy.”

Shocked yowls rose in a chorus. Within the high camp walls, Shadepool felt like a throng of birds had started to scream in her skull all at once. They were as outraged as the cats attending the Gathering had been, and Shadepool felt herself reeling once again:

“He’s too young to be deputy!”

“Mudstar? How?!”

“How do we know he didn’t kill Onewhisker?”

“Yeah! He was certainly willing to before...”

“After all we did for them?”

“I’ve got three scars because of that fight!”

“I'm still sore!”

“Crowflight? Why?”

“He’s a good enough warrior, but it’s against the code, isn't it?”

“He's had no apprentice that I know of...”

“What is WindClan thinking?”

“Calm down!” Tinystar yowled.

Her father’s voice had cracked, straining to get over the cacophony. The fretting dulled down to a murmur, and Shadepool curled her tail around her paws. She tried to lean on Nightfrost, but sensed that he was preoccupied – Mistyfoot looked to be dizzy from all the yelling, and he was busy comforting her. Shadepool drew back sharply and dug her claws into the slush instead, hot thorns pricking her pelt.

“Yes, this is unprecedented,” Tinystar went on, his voice straining. “Mudstar hinted that StarClan had something to do with both his and Crowflight’s appointments. That, however, is not the only issue at our paws.”

“What else could there possibly be?” snapped Swiftfoot. He looked incredulously up at Tinystar. “Have mice started flying as well?”

The absurdity of his question, combined with the absurdity of this entire situation, did get a few purrs of some sort of dark amusement out of a few cats in the crowd. Shadepool wasn't certain whether or not that was a good thing.

Tinystar frowned. “Apparently, at the site of the ambush, there was significant evidence of a ThunderClan presence.”

The entire Clan went deathly silent.

“Mudstar has declared that ThunderClan is responsible for Onewhisker’s death.” Tinystar’s voice broke with the weight of his grief. Shadepool saw the luster fade from his eyes. “He has closed his borders to us and is demanding justice.”

The silence stretched thin like ice just creeping over a stream. The cats who had attended the Gathering, who already knew, looked up at Tinystar with resignation to the facts. The others, those that were only just hearing of this, wore shocked, open-jawed expressions. Shadepool could almost hear their words of disbelief die on their tongues.

“Mudstar did not outright declare war,” Tinystar pressed on, tired and resigned, “but I have decided that we must prepare for it, nonetheless.”

His icy gaze swept across his Clan. “I know, deep down in my bones, that no ThunderClan warrior would ever do something so cowardly and heinous – these accusations are baseless. But, Onewhisker is still dead, Mudstar is still the leader, and all of WindClan stands behind him. RiverClan and ShadowClan’s positions are undecided. We cannot ignore what this means.”

The crowd murmured, unsettled.

“No cat leaves camp alone,” Tinystar declared. “The WindClan border must be monitored, and I want the patrols along the Divide doubled. Hunters should avoid getting too near the river. There must be no undue instigation from us. We will need every cat ready to defend ourselves - it's not a matter of if Mudstar will cause a problem, but when and how.”

He took a deep breath, and his gaze lifted. Shadepool followed his eyes, turning her head towards the nursery. Ferncloud and Snowstep sat just outside, with Larchkit between them, his fur groomed to perfection.

Oh. Shadepool suddenly realized why Tinystar had spoken to the pair earlier. Had Larchkit heard all that had been said? Did he understand what was about to happen? She felt bad for him – every kit dreamed of getting their apprentice name, but this honor would always be eclipsed by the circumstances that necessitated it.

Every cat turned their heads, and the realization dawned on them, too. Shadepool heard Silverstream murmur something sympathetically. Someone wondered who his mentor would be, but there was little suspense in their voice.

“Larchkit,” Tinystar announced, “come forward.”

The young cat got to his paws and, urged on by Ferncloud, padded forward. The crowd split around him, everyone edging away to give him some space. Larchkit kept his chin high, but Shadepool could see a wobble in his step.

So, he has some idea, she guessed. He was not fully deaf, like his father. Shadepool guessed that his good ear had caught all he needed to know. Poor mite.

“Larchkit, you have shown tremendous bravery for one so young,” Tinystar meowed, his voice clear and loud, as Larchkit paused beneath the shadow of the Highledge. Ferncloud was allowed to sit beside her son, to sign Tinystar's words in case he missed them. “You have crossed from forest to mountain to lake, and it is my pleasure to give you your apprentice name.”

Larchkit raised his head, his bicolored gaze wavering.

“Larchkit, from this moment forward, until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Larchpaw,” Tinystar announced.

Shadepool watched her father’s gaze keenly. Who would be Larchpaw’s mentor in this trying time? An older warrior, like Graystripe or Cinderpelt? Someone young, like Rainwhisker? Or, perhaps, Mistyfoot?

She glanced at her friend, curious. Mistyfoot had had an apprentice seasons ago, in the old forest – Shrewpaw, Spiderpaw’s brother. However, an encounter with a badger had taken Shrewpaw’s life shortly after he’d gotten his apprentice name, and Mistyfoot had taken the blow and blame deep in her heart. Would she be given another chance?

Mistyfoot was looking up at her leader, now, straining as if she might convince him with her gaze alone. It was no secret that Mistyfoot longed to be deputy – to work with her former mentor and lead ThunderClan. But to do that, according to the warrior code, one needed to have trained an apprentice, unless StarClan decided to interfere. There had been Shrewpaw, of course, but his life had been cut short all too quickly, and Shadepool didn't know if that counted or not.

“Ashfur.”

Shadepool almost heard Mistyfoot’s heart break.

“You have shown strength and bravery in adversity,” Tinystar meowed on. “I think you would make a great mentor for Larchpaw.”

Ashfur looked shocked to be chosen. He glanced over his shoulder at Ferncloud, his littermate, who stared back with love and gratitude in her eyes. Shadepool’s heart went out to the queen – she had lost two of her kits to the horrors of starvation in the old forest, and Larchpaw was all that remained of that first litter. Had she asked Tinystar to put Larchpaw in the care of his uncle, for her own sake?

“Larchpaw! Larchpaw!” the Clan cheered. “Larchpaw!”

Ashfur recovered quickly from the shock. He strode up to Larchpaw and touched noses with his new apprentice.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised, signing through the noise. His dark blue eyes flashed up, looking directly at Mistyfoot. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

Shadepool felt Nightfrost stiffen beside her. “How dare he!” he hissed. “What a snake!”

“Stop, Nightfrost,” Mistyfoot whispered. Her voice was so, so tired. “It’s not worth it.” She and Ashfur had never gotten along, and Shadepool guessed that him having an apprentice over her this time wasn’t going to change that in the least. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but what’s the plan?” demanded Swiftfoot. “Are we just going to let WindClan’s accusations stand?”

Tinystar’s ice-blue eyes turned hard. “Absolutely not,” he declared, his voice gaining strength. “I won’t let WindClan get away with threatening us. Whoever killed Onewhisker and framed us will be found, and they will be made to pay. ThunderClan is not a Clan of murderers and codebreakers, and Mudstar will not smear our name across the lakeshore while I have the lives to stop him!”

“ThunderClan!” Graystripe yowled. The whole Clan raised their voices with him: “ThunderClan! ThunderClan!”

“Graystripe, Cinderpelt, you have the patrols for today,” Tinystar declared as the cheering died down. “We senior warriors will discuss things further once we’ve rested. This meeting is adjourned!”

With that, Tinystar turned and headed into the cave he called his den, blending into the darkness immediately. The Clan broke up into gossiping groups, every nerve aflame by the shocking announcements.

Shadepool saw a few patrols begin to head out, and Ashfur and Larchpaw joined them. She prayed to StarClan that his first tour of the territory would be peaceful, but she didn’t envy having to deal with Ashfur as a mentor.

“I can’t believe it,” Rainwhisker murmured. “WindClan, hating us? After everything ThunderClan has done for them?”

“Whatever could make them think we killed Onewhisker?” Sorreltail wondered. Her eyes were wide with shock. “We’ve been friends since long before the Great Battle with BloodClan!”

“It’s got to be a ploy,” Rainwhisker suggested. His tail swished in the slush. “Mudstar’s always wanted power. He’s got it, and now he wants more.”

Sootfur was nodding along. “I mean, I did hear that rumor that he pushed Ashfoot under the tree...”

“Whoa, who from?” Sorreltail demanded.

“That ShadowClan warrior Skipnose swears he saw it...”

Shadepool’s heart felt sick. She drew away from the trio, edging closer to Nightfrost and Mistyfoot. She longed for the comfort of their companionship, not the gossip of her Clanmates – but it seemed like she couldn’t escape it, even there.

“I hope we can settle things before someone gets hurt,” Nightfrost sighed. He nudged Mistyfoot. “What’s your read on this mess?”

Mistyfoot shook her head. She seemed utterly at a loss, her dark blue eyes shimmering with misery. “I-I don’t know. I certainly didn't see it coming, that's for sure.”

Nightfrost touched his nose to her shoulder. “I wish we could talk to Crowflight,” he sighed. “There’s no way he’d lie to us.” Shadepool didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered to her. She could feel him prodding and poking between her ears.

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Mistyfoot said resignedly. Her gaze looked hurt, and she was ignoring Nightfrost's prodding. “He was very quick to put borders up between us again, remember...”

Shadepool felt her tail puff with indignation. You don’t understand him at all! None of you ever did!

“I don’t think he would betray anyone, least of all us,” she meowed sternly, “and I don’t think he’d agree to be deputy if Mudstar were a murderer!” Especially if he murdered Crowflight’s own mother!

“Well, things are changing,” Mistyfoot meowed. Her gaze was even. “Our home has changed, the Clans have changed, and the cats within them have, too. We’re in danger now, and we may have to face Crowflight in battle sooner or later.” She sighed, resigned. “We have to prepare for that eventuality.”

Nightfrost sighed, and his shoulders sagged. “The Great Journey really is over...”

Shadepool dug her claws into the earth. She knew her emotions were rising, flaring up and pulsing hotly into Nightfrost’s mind. She wanted to screech at Mistyfoot, call her a mouse-brain for not trusting Crowflight – but she felt Nightfrost push back, trying to get her to understand.

Shadepool’s heart twisted, searing in her chest - she wanted them to understand her, not the other way around!

She tossed her brother a sharp glare before she got up and headed for the medicine cat’s cave. She heard Mistyfoot’s concerned mew but ignored her. Shadepool knew she would have to apologize later, and she would - but for now, she was angry and knew she would be for a time.

Crowflight has the answers, you’ll see! She thought firmly. She would see him tonight, and learn everything they needed to fix this. We won’t get out of this without him!

[warriorsredux]

Twigstar's Nine Lives

Hi, this is the anon who posted the Mother’s Ear thing. Sorry if I’m not suppose to use this ‘submit a post’ but I saw it was on here, I don’t have a tumbl.r and don’t want to make one just to send one story. I’m using the Moonpool/Mother’s Ear in a classic Nine Lives short story for my character Twigleg. So, featuring med cat (I am using those since I like all the herbs) Redbird, and a few personal redux additions, here is the Leader ceremony of Twigstar, featuring one of Erin Hunter’s more famous Thunderclan cats.

Twigleg rubbed his tongue over his teeth, subconsciously cleaning out anything that may be stuck. He stared at Mother’s Ear, surrounded by the pulsing aura that came from this sacred site. He looked all around, following the waterfall trickling down the ear to the glorious Moonpool. It seemed to glow in the moonlight. “Suriin approves of you, Twigleg,” Redbird meowed. “She may, but will Starclan?” Twigleg whispered. He dared not raise his voice any louder, lest Suriin’s gaze drift away. “And why wouldn’t they?” Redbird chuckled. “Stemstar knew what she was doing choosing you as her deputy.” Twigleg felt that familiar tug at his heart at the mention of his leader. He had always thought Stemstar would die in a blaze of glory, making her name known in Thunderclan for years to come. But instead, she was crushed by a few falling rocks from the top of the hollow where Thunderclan lived. She had saved Birdpaw, but at the cost of her ninth life. The skinny brown tom took a deep breath. It was his turn to honor his clan. “Lay down and touch your nose to the Moonpool,” Redbird meowed. Twigleg laid down, his paws tucked underneath his chest. He leaned out far, letting the tip of his muzzle hit the water. It was cold, colder than Twigleg had expected. He let out a soft gasp. Redbird laid down next to him. “Now close your eyes and wait.” Twigleg obeyed, but his mind kept racing. He was going to lead an entire clan. Would the other leaders respect him? Would his clan see him as a cat as strong as Stemstar? How would things be with his mate? His daughter? Would anything ever be the same? “Twigleg,” a voice purred. Twigleg went tense. He recognized that voice. That voice had died the morning before. He opened his eyes, sitting up, and saw the glory of Starclan. The cats of Starclan surrounded Mother’s Ear, glowing, watching, looking noble and wise. The sky above glowed with Suriin’s light. Twigleg thought he could almost see the Leopard, watching from the sky above. She, Starclan, they approved of him! His heart soared at the sight of every cat. “Cats of Starclan!” Redbird’s voice boomed beside Twigleg, almost causing him to jump. “You received a new member of your ranks, Stemstar, a mighty leader, respected by her clan. Now her deputy, Twigleg, seeks the nine lives of a leader and the guidance of the Three. May he be accepted among you when his time arrives.” Redbird stepped back, his mottled ginger fur almost seeming to glow with the rest of Starclan’s ranks. “Hello, my deputy,” Stemstar stepped out of the crowd her long thin tail held high over her shining silver coat. “I’m honored to have you as my successor.” “I…” Twigleg gasped, trying to keep a steady voice. “Well, 'water’ we waiting for? I’m ready to lead Thunderclan.” “Always with your sense of humor,” Stemstar sighed with gentle eyes. The tall molly leaned down and touched her muzzle to Twigleg’s head. “I give you a life of humor, even in dark times. No cat can go through those dark times without a bit of happiness. With this life, make sure all those who cannot find their happiness can gain some from you.” It felt like Stemstar had thrown Twigleg through the air. His blood pounded in his ears, the wind soared past him, until he landed with a thud. As Stemstar moved back to the ranks of Starclan, Twigleg could feel a strange aftereffect, a bubbly sensation, like falling into the lake and feeling the bubbles float up around you. He had done that more than once. He took a deep breath, trying to slow down his heart as the second cat appeared. He didn’t recognize this once, this slender black molly with those sharp green eyes. “My name is Hollyleaf,” the molly stated. “I died long before you were born, but I trust in the warrior code still.” She touched Twigleg’s head and said “I give you a life to live by the warrior code, and understand why each law was put into place.” Twigleg felt blows landing on his pelt, claws digging into his skin. He let out a yowl as he felt teeth bite into his neck and fire burn around him. The pain dimmed for a few beats of a bird’s wing, until the roar of Horoa filled his ears, and everything stopped. Next up was a large brown tom, a cat who looked just like Twigleg. “Cedarfur,” Twigleg sighed. “Greetings, son,” Cedarfur meowed, as militant and to the point as ever. Touching his muzzle, Twigleg’s father called out “I give you a life of skill in battle, to defeat all those who dare to threaten Thunderclan.” This time the pain Twigleg had felt in Hollyleaf’s life, he could feel his claws tingling with blood, his teeth soaked in it. Breathing hard, he looked into his father’s long fur and wondered not for the first time how he could enjoy all those battles, which in Twigleg’s mind seemed purposeless. “Do not fear the dead, Twigleg,” another voice purred before Cedarfur stepped away. His mother, Ashflower, this gray speckled molly that walked towards him, the cat Twigleg had loved as deeply as his own mate in the way only a mother and her kin could, meowed “I give you a life of understanding others, of seeing through their eyes. Do not act as though you know what they have been through. Understand the many paths all could follow, under or away for Horoa’s watching eye.” Twigleg thought a life from his mother would be gentle as she touched his head. He was dead wrong. His body was being torn in two, then four, then into a thlain of different pieces, each one so different in it’s own odd way. His body rejoined together as soon as his mother stepped away. “Wait, Ashflower!” He cried out. “Stay!” But she had already joined the hoards if cats in Mother’s Ear. Another new face moved towards him, fluid, drifting, her long white fur a mane of snow. “I am Snowstep,” the molly hummed, her voice soft and smooth. “I lived and died in Riverclan, serving it as a medicine cat.” “I’ve heard about you at Gatherings,” Twigleg meowed. “Is it true you talked to Horoa himself and stopped him from burning down the old forest?” “That is for me to know, and you to one day learn. I give you a life of cunning, to use not only your body but your mind to win your battles.” Twigleg braced himself as Snowstep leaned forward and touched his head. A claw was digging into his head, going straight through, tugging at his mind. It broke through at the other end, a sharp hit to the head ending the pain. Twigleg was almost tempted to touch his head and see if Snowstep had left a hole before the next cat touched it, reaching up to meet him. His heart fell when he recognized the sandy gray molly as Reedpaw. Redbird’s old apprentice. “I give you a life of energy,” Reedpaw stated, her young voice clear and strong. “Enough to last you for all your nine lives.” It was a powerful surge traveling through his body. He could run around the lake as many times as he wanted and still have enough energy to serve his clan, even through the lightning shocks. He glanced behind him when it was done to where Redbird stood. He stared at Reedpaw, his eyes hiding something. Reedpaw flicked her tail and leaped to her spot with Starclan. “My turn, I suppose,” Stemstar’s first deputy, Poppystorm, sighed. The dark gray tom, sitting at the other end of the Moonpool, leaped over the water in a single bound, landing in from of Twigleg. “Thank you,” Twigleg said. “For taking care of Thunderclan when I was an apprentice.” “I did my job,” Poppystorm chuckled. “Now it’s your turn to do yours.” For such a large muscled tom, he was actually quite short, having to reach up farther than Reedpaw did. “I give you a life of finding purpose in little things. Even the simple task of talking to the kits of your clan contains adventure and fulfillment.” This was the calmest life by far. Wind blowing through Twigleg’s fur, roaring in his ears. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of leaf-fall and prey. “Twigleg. Twigleg! Open your eyes!” Twigleg looked down to where the voice came from. It was a fluffy silver kit, his fur sticking out in many directions. “Thislekit?” Twigleg asked. “Yes!” The little kit exclaimed. “I’ve missed you, brother!” “I’ve missed you too,” Twigleg purred, crouching down to eye level with his brother. He leaped up, paws on Twigleg’s muzzle. “I give you a life to understand the joy of kits, to see it in others and in yourself!” Happiness soared through him when Thislekit put his tiny nose on his head. Twigleg purred, the joy and warmth spreading through him. “I’m really happy for you!” Thislekit exclaimed. “Do you remember when we would pretend to be leaders, as kits?” “Yes, yes I do,” Twigleg purred. “It’s really true!” Thislekit was bouncing on his paws. “Thislekit!” Ashflower called from the crowd. “Bye, Twigleg!” Thislekit called as he raced to his mother. Twigleg opened hos mouth, trying to breath on his brother’s scent, but he was gone. There was only one more left. “I can’t believe my sister wanted to change her name to something so… Dramatic,” The final cat tutted. This molly was a bright ginger with pale amber eyes. “Well, Lostgaze has always been the dramatic sort, Dawnthroat,” Twigleg sighed. “When someone claws her eye blind, what do you think she would do?” “Even with the ridiculous name,” Dawnthroat mewed, stepping up to Twigleg. “Thank you for treating her well. I give you a life of knowledge, how to get it and how to use it.” His ears filled with the sound of chatting cats, spreading clan gossip and the latest news as they shared tongues. Immediately as Dawnthroat left, Stemstar stepped forward once again. I hail you by your new name, Twigstar,“ Stemstar called out. "Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and Starclan grants you the guardianship of Thunderclan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity.” Twigstar puffed out his thin chest with pride. “Twigstar, Twigstar!” Starclan cried out. His family, old friends, brave and noble ancestors, the Three above, they all acceptes him! His heart soared above, close to Suriin’s eye, thanking her for this honor. “Well, Twigstar?” Stemstar purred. “'Water’ you waiting for? Go, and lead your clan!”

[bearfrosts]

im getting so far from the original point of my snowkit lives au to the point that i've planned for leafpool to end up as a windclan queen as crowfeather's mate and have a second litter with him. also her name is leafnose now.

this may seem out of nowhere but i think my reasoning is pretty solid—snowkit chooses to become a medcat apprentice after training several moons with brackenfur and realizing he just doesn't enjoy fighting (following from his lack of interest in play-fighting as a kit, which i'm accepting as a personality thing for the sake of my au even though it was probably just bc of his deafness on the erins' part.)

because of this, leafpaw is a warrior apprentice, despite her connection with starclan and disinterest in fighting and hunting. she grows up feeling a bit out of place in the clan, because she doesn't feel like her contributions are meaningful enough, and she has "bad dreams" all the time that are really because of her connection w/ starclan, but she doesn't have medcat training to recognize that. she is made a warrior as leafnose at the same time as squirrelflight, and bonds with crowpaw through the great journey. as they settle into their lives at the lake, crowfeather and leafnose become closer. when they run away, and are told about the badger attacks, leafnose isn't a medcat and doesn't feel as compelled to go to thunderclan first. she goes with crowfeather to windclan for help and they both arrive in thunderclan camp with windclan.

after that, she stays with thunderclan for a bit before deciding her heart still lies with crowfeather, and she leaves to join windclan after speaking with her parents about how she feels. (firestar and sandstorm are both opposed to it, obviously, but they eventually respect her wishes—i think at this point leafnose admits that she's pregnant as well and firestar thinks back to graystripe and silverstream and that's when he decides to let leafnose go.

she has her kits, and uhhh i also named hollyleaf breezekit at first and made her a tom. at first. but she is not breezepelt bc breezepelt doesn't exist in this—it's just that crowfeather chooses the name for her, since hollyleaf was named by squilf + would've been named crowkit if it'd been up to leafpool. (breezekit grows up to be breezefall and she has her own plot where she leaves the clans, renames herself to holly, and accepts herself as trans).

leafnose and crowfeather's second litter are two kits named squirrelkit and plumekit. i kinda wanted to call back to how hollyleaf was going to be named after crowfeather in canon, and decided that leafpool gets to have her sentimentality moment and name one of her kits after her sister.

and like, to clarify, leafnose does all this because she feels directionless in thunderclan. but that doesn't mean having a mate and kits and being a mother makes it all better. i don't want to give her a happy ending, necessarily, because i think a core part of leafpool's story in any au should still be her inner conflict and the way no possible solution will be perfect for her. as a windclan queen, she still misses thunderclan deeply. she begins to learn herbs and medicine from kestrelflight, and decides to be a perma-queen where she helps with kitting and kit-care and does medcat-related chores for kestrelflight. she has some sense of direction, now. she's trying to heal and find a place for herself. but it just isn't possible for her to feel completely at home and content.

and not really related to any of this but jayfeather becomes a warrior in this au and lionblaze becomes mates with heathertail. holly also takes cinderheart with her when she leaves the clans and they make out sloppy lesbian style

[bearfrosts]

Okay hello I've finally caved and made a Warriors sideblog. I'll probably be posting about my Snowkit Lives AU (aka Snowstep's Path) here, and potentially my original clans (HickoryClan, PrairieClan, MarshClan, and LakeClan).

This will also be where I document my art practice if I can actually convince myself to start learning how to draw cats.

Gonna keep this as my pinned until I make a better one

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 27 || Chapter 28 || Chapter 29 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 28

Stoneheart woke to pale light stretching across the cave floor. He blinked sleep from his eyes, feeling energy suddenly shoot through his muscles – had the snow finally stopped outside? A quick glance around his den told him that the other Clans were awake, and as he peered towards the back of the cave he saw a crowd of cats gathered there.

His pelt prickled. I overslept! Why hadn’t Rowanclaw woken him up? Stoneheart shook a feather from his flank and hopped out of the to-be den, his tail-tip flicking as he trotted over to the crowd. There were too many cats to hope to get too near the center, so he stayed by the edges, presumably with other cats that had overslept.

Mudclaw, Blackfoot, and Tawnypelt were at the center of the crowd, with Snowstep of ThunderClan and Crag, one of the Tribe’s senior cave-guards.

“The blizzard is clear,” Crag was saying. “Our prey-hunters will take this opportunity to hunt.”

“Our warriors will join you,” Blackfoot rumbled. “Like Tinystar said last night, we won’t force your Tribe to be responsible for so many of us.”

Crag looked skeptical.

Snowstep signed, “I think you’ll find we’re quick to adapt.”

Stoneheart tipped his head, surprised when Crag nodded at the deaf warrior. I had no idea the Tribe knew pawspeak, he thought. He considered their hunting style of patience and silence and quickly realized why they might’ve developed such a language. The same reason ShadowClan did.

“Very well,” Crag agreed. “Your cats may join with ours.”

“Crag,” Mistyfoot’s voice came through the crowd, “perhaps putting one of us chosen cats onto each patrol would help. We’ve hunted with you before, so it’ll make it easier to explain to our Clanmates how you do things.”

Crag didn’t need much convincing. He nodded his broad head. “Agreed.”

With so many cats, it seemed to take an age before patrols were sorted. Stoneheart found himself with Sun, Sorreltail, Rowanclaw, Heronleap, Softbreeze, and Wing – a large patrol, considering how the Tribe usually operated, but with so many mouths to feed there wasn’t much choice.

Mistyfoot was with Cloud. “We’ll check the path down the mountain,” the stocky black she-cat told Crag. “Hopefully our findings are favorable.”

“Getting tired of us already?” Crowpaw wondered, flicking his tail at the cave-guard.

Cloud’s whiskers twitched. “We are happy to have you, but your home is not here,” she said simply.

True enough, Stoneheart agreed inwardly, watching the black she-cat lead her patrol out of the cavern.

Sun stretched and then curled her tail over her back. “Come on, then!” she purred. “Let’s be off! The birds don’t catch themselves!”

The ginger she-cat led the way out of the crowd. Stoneheart stepped in at her side, with Rowanclaw just behind with the others. Wing took up the rear, the young she-cat's Tribe-short tail held high and her eyes flashing.

They emerged from the cave and carefully picked their way down the Path of Rushing Water, which was slick with new frost. Sorreltail nearly slipped and fell, but Sun caught her by the scruff and placed her right. The others made it down without incident.

The rocky clearing around the churning pool was filled with snow, unbroken but for the new paths cut by Tribe patrols. Stoneheart sunk in up to his belly, and shivered. The warmth of the cave seemed so far away already.

“So... how does the Tribe hunt up here?” Sorreltail wondered. “It’s so cold and...”

“Open?” Stoneheart guessed.

Sorreltail nodded, her eyes glittering with confusion. A quick glance at the rest of the Clan cats in his patrol and Stoneheart knew they were all feeling the same.

“It’s not so hard,” Stoneheart explained. “We hunt more actively and aggressively, but the Tribe takes things more slowly, and with patience.”

“There is reward in stillness,” Wing advised, trudging through the snow drifts.

Sun lifted her tail. “‘Mouths are fed with silence,’ is one of the first things a softpaw learns! Come, we’ll show you!”

She and Wing led the way opposite the first patrol, down a narrow chasm that snaked back towards Claw Tree, where the Clans had attempted the shelter the night before. Instead of making directly for Claw Tree, however, they took another path, trudging confidently through the snow.

Stoneheart flicked an ear. He didn’t know Tribe territory as well as the others had – his time with the Tribe had been spent mostly in the to-be den, suffering his injured shoulder. He glanced back at the others, who were staring at this forbidding territory with wide eyes. I’ll teach them all I know, regardless.

As they traveled upslope, Stoneheart wondered if this is what it would feel like to be a mentor. He was running through Tribe strategies that he knew in his mind, trying to think of how best to teach them to cats from so many different Clans. Would these warriors be offended by his teaching them? Rowanclaw and Sorreltail were young, but Softbreeze was older and Heronleap was a senior warrior of RiverClan. Would they be annoyed by him?

When Wing and Sun stopped, the air felt a little thinner than it had when they’d started, and sunhigh had passed. Before them stretched a steep hillside of hard-packed dirt and stone, streaked with snow and dotted with scraggly shrubbery. Stoneheart counted only three trees managing to cling to the side of the slope, their leafless branches stretching high towards the clouds and their trunks bent by the strong winds.

“We’re meant to hunt here?” Softbreeze grumbled. “How?”

“Like I said,” Stoneheart soothed, “patience. Watch what Wing does.”

He nodded to the gray-and-white she-cat, who was rolling her shoulders into the dirt. Stoneheart gestured to the prey-hunter and advised, “Tribe cats roll in dirt and mud to disguise their coloring. Prey has a hard time telling the difference.”

“It suppresses our scent, too,” Wing added, shaking off excess dirt.

“So... we’re meant to roll in mud?” Heronleap looked offended by the notion. Stoneheart wasn’t surprised – the older warrior was RiverClan, a Clan that prided themselves on their appearances. Feathertail didn’t have a problem with it!

Instead of being so scathing, he nodded, and the approached the dirt himself. He rolled himself in it like Wing had, feeling the cold earth seep between his shoulders and cling to his pelt.

“Having fun?” Rowanclaw wondered, looking down at Stoneheart.

Purring, Stoneheart reached up with his forelegs and wrapped them around Rowanclaw’s neck. In a gentle motion, Stoneheart had Rowanclaw in the dirt with him.  

“Make sure to cover your back well!” he chuckled. “Ginger pelts stick out in the mountains!”

“You little frog!” Rowanclaw chided, his eyes glittering with love.

Sorreltail mrrowed with amusement. “Do you have to roll in mud too, Sun?”

Sun nodded. “A cave-guard watches the skies, but we don’t want to be seen doing it. After you!”

While the two she-cats rolled in the dirt, Stoneheart helped Rowanclaw to his paws. He paced around his mate, checking the coverage on his dark ginger coat, and decided, “Good job! Now we can get to it.”

Wing rolled her eyes a tail-length away. “I’ll be surprised if your silliness didn’t scare away the prey!”

“Just show us what to do,” Rowanclaw meowed firmly. Sorreltail and Sun were getting out of the dirt, purring and checking one another over, while Softbreeze and Heronleap took their turn, though Heronleap looked as reluctant as an apprentice on tick duty.

Wing nodded to Stoneheart, and together they took up a position behind the nearest bush. They hunkered down, shoulder to shoulder, their tails still above the earth. There was naught but the sound of their breathing – when Softbreeze asked what they were doing, Sun hushed her quickly.

Stoneheart spotted the bird – a sparrow with reddish-colored plumage. Recalling his own training, he tapped his tail against Wing’s. He felt her haunches bunch in response.

The sparrow hopped across the barren earth, picking at the dirt for anything that it might find edible. Closer and closer it moved, seemingly unaware of the predators awaiting it. Closer... Stoneheart thought, feeling Wing readying herself. Closer...

Wing moved like a snake, quick and sudden, stretching her body out of the bush just enough to bring in the bird and then kill it before it made a sound.

“Good job,” Stoneheart praised, heart pounding in his ears. Turning to the others, he meowed, “See how it’s done? It’s sim-”

A rustle in a nearby bush caught his ear. Sorreltail sprang before any other cat, landing on the squirrel before it could make for the safety of a tree. The ThunderClan she-cat's eyes were wide with surprise as she lifted her catch.

“Amazing!” Sun purred, her eyes glittering.

Wing drew herself up, eyes round with shock. “How did you find it?”

Sorreltail put down the squirrel, looking puzzled. “I... I’m not sure, really. But it’s so quiet up here... Where I’m from, there are so many trees and other noises – but here, I could hear it eating a nut so loudly.”

Stoneheart felt a flash of pride for the young warrior. “It was a great catch, Sorreltail,” he mewed.

“It really was!” Sun agreed. “Did you hear that, Wing? So many trees, their noise makes it hard to hunt! Can you imagine?”

Wing rolled her eyes. “All I can imagine is Crag and Talon having our tails for not bringing back enough prey...”

“Then let’s focus,” Stoneheart meowed firmly, looking to Rowanclaw, Softbreeze, and Heronleap. The three warriors looked far more excited now, having seen what needed to be done. He could tell they were eager to impress, and Stoneheart gestured at the slope with his tail. “Come on, your turn now...”

———————————————————

The sun had set by the time their patrol returned, but they had returned a success. Stoneheart was surprised at how much prey lay in the mountains, even in frozen-water. He carried a thrush and songbird in his jaws, their flavors making his mouth water. The others were just as laden with prey, and as they carefully picked their way up the Path of Rushing Water and into the cavern, it was clear the other patrols had had similar success.

The Tribe’s fresh-kill pile was near to toppling as Stoneheart set down his birds. Rowanclaw laid down his rabbit, caught before it could escape down the steep slope – a surprising catch, to both Softbreeze and Wing. Though it had scraped Rowanclaw’s pads raw to catch, he was very proud of it, and Stoneheart was very proud of him.

As the others deposited their prey, Stoneheart looked around. The cave was cluttered with cats, Tribe and Clan mingling and filling the place floor to ceiling with chatter. A successful hunt had clearly done wonders to cut the initial awkwardness between the two groups.

While Sorreltail and Sun took off to chat, and Softbreeze and Heronleap went their separate ways, Stoneheart led Rowanclaw to sit with his friends. They were beside the softpaw den, chatting to one another about the day.

“... The pass is still closed with snow, but otherwise it went well!” Mistyfoot meowed. “Our patrol caught a load of prey. I don’t think Cloud expected it at all!”

Brook, who was pressed against Feathertail, twitched her whiskers. “Cloud can be very hard to please,” she reasoned, her pale eyes sparkling. “I think you did well, Mistyfoot!”

“Our patrol went well, too,” Stoneheart reported, sitting beside his sister. Rowanclaw settled down on his belly, setting to licking his sore pads. Stoneheart put a paw along his mate’s shoulder. “The stone was rough, though.”

“Mine was fine,” Crowpaw said.

“Fine?” Nightpaw’s eyes went wide, two patches of clear newleaf sky in the darkness. “Crowpaw, you practically led it! Red couldn’t even be upset with you!”

Crowpaw’s shoulder fur fluffed. “Yes, well...”

“I think that’s amazing,” Shadepaw agreed, nudging Crowpaw with her muzzle. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Stop it!” Crowpaw hissed. His tone was sharp, but his eyes were soft on Shadepaw. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Stoneheart couldn’t help but purr in amusement and, with a glance at Mistyfoot and Feathertail, he found he wasn’t the only one warmed by Crowpaw’s consternation.  

“And you, Feathertail?” Stoneheart wondered, directing attention away from Crowpaw. “How was your patrol?”

Feathertail blinked. “We didn’t patrol today,” she explained. “We... We took Graystripe and Silverstream to see Stormfur.”

Oh. A somber mood engulfed the chosen cats, and they hung their heads in silence for a moment. Bright moonlight was streaming in through the waterfall now, and Stoneheart guessed the stars were out. Was StarClan, and Stormfur, with them? Had Stormfur been with the Tribe of Endless Hunting this whole time?

“We told them what happened,” Feathertail went on, her voice quiet. “I’ve never seen Graystripe so upset. We lost our sibling, Icekit, when we were born, so I never really knew how they felt about it...”

Brook leaned into Feathertail, resting a paw atop hers. “He walks the stars, now,” she breathed. “And we honor him.”

“Cats of Clan and Tribe, hear me!”

It was Stoneteller’s voice that cut through the din of chattering cats. Silence soon reigned, with all eyes turning to the back of the cave, where the rickety old tom stood with Snow at his side. Tinystar, Tallstar, Leopardstar, and Russetstar were fanned out on either side of the Tribe’s leadership, looking out at their Clans together.

“Tonight, the moon is full, and shines its brightest,” Stoneteller meowed. “Here, in the mountains, the stars are close to us, and in these times, the voices of our ancestors speak the clearest. In the light of the full moon, reflection is key.”

Snow spoke, then, her voice crystal clear in the cave: “One moon ago, the mountains were rid of the monster Sharptooth – but before it died, it took with its teeth and claws many of our kith and kin. Tonight, those they left behind honor them: Pale, my sister, mother of Sun; Spray, sister to Bird; Boulder, mate to Night and father of Hawk, Ice, and Swoop; Sheer, father of Flight; and Swift, kit of Cold and mother to Wing. We look to them in the stars, and we remember...”

“We remember...” The Tribe cats echoed.

Stoneheart swallowed. We remember. He shared a glance with the others. Rowanclaw hadn’t been there, but the rest had – most of those cats named had died that stormy night in this very cave, in their frantic battle to scare Sharptooth away forever.

“Finally,” Stoneteller rasped, “we honor Stormfur. From the forest he came, a cat watched over by other stars. He gave his life to save our Tribe, and we will never forget him.”

“We will never forget.” The echoes bounced solemnly across the walls.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then, Snow raised her voice: “We feast in their honor!” she declared. “Crag, Talon!”

The two cave-guards stood and headed for the fresh-kill pile. Immediately they began passing prey from cat to cat, splitting some apart to ensure each cat had a share. They worked together well, their eyes flashing to one another with pride in their task.

Snow went on as they worked: “We celebrate our lost Tribemate’s lives tonight, in the light of the full moon, and we celebrate our new friends in the Clans, who journey long and hard to find their home. Tonight, we dine together, Tribe and Clan, Tribe of Endless Hunting and StarClan. Tonight, we are one!”

“Tonight, we are one!”

Stoneheart felt his heart lift as a haunch of rabbit was passed his way. It seemed as if they were the last to receive their meal, as once they had each been served the cats began to tuck in. All around, Stoneheart could see Tribe cats instructing Clan cats in how the Tribe shared – one bite, then passing their prey to a neighbor.

In their tradition, Stoneheart tore away a hunk of his rabbit and then swapped it with Rowanclaw. He tucked into his mate’s squirrel, leaning against him. Conversation echoed all around as Tribe and Clan shared tongues, laughter and booming yowls punctuating stories of the lost told in remembrance. Kits romped in between the eating cats, stepping on tails and playing hide-and-seek, Night’s kits showing the Clan kits the best spots to perch on the stone walls for pouncing – a game which ended when Larchkit landed on Dustpelt and made the tom screech in shock.

It was a warm, happy moment – it made Stoneheart feel soft and relaxed, after a season of journeying and hardship and sorrow. He could have fallen asleep like this, too, had more voices not called for attention:

“Cats of Clan and Tribe, hear us!”

The strength of Tallstar’s voice was a shock that made ears prick and heads turn up from their meals. The black and white WindClan leader stood at the back of the cave, with Tinystar by his side. Tallstar’s pale gaze leveled on each cat.

“This is such a momentous occasion,” the old WindClan leader rasped. “Never in my long life did I think that we would leave the forest, and never in my long life did I think we would meet such a kind group, cats like us but of different minds. I did not think I would live to see the four Clans come together in any kind of peace or kinship, but look, now... it has happened twice!”

A ripple of agreement spread through the crowd.

“We have all been through so much together,” Tallstar meowed on. His gaze glittered with memories. “I hope this is something we never forget. Our Great Journey is nearly done, and we cannot forget how we came to be here in the first place...”

He raised his chin. “A prophecy, given to cats from not one, but all four Clans. A prophecy meant to bring us together, for our survival. Without those chosen cats, we would not be here. Without those chosen cats...”

Tallstar broke off, wheezing. Stoneheart felt a prickle of fear. Could these be Tallstar’s last words? Tinystar bolstered the old WindClan tom with words whispered into his ear. Tallstar nodded, and smiled down at the smaller ThunderClan cat.

“Tinystar and I have asked Stoneteller if we may bring a Clan tradition into his cave,” Tallstar rasped on. “He agreed.”

“Crowpaw, Nightpaw, come forward,” Tinystar announced. His ice-blue eyes raked the crowd in the darkness, until they rested on the two cats he had called for.

What?! Stoneheart’s heart beat in his ears. He swung his gaze over to the two apprentices, who had been grooming one another’s ears during the conversation. Now they were staring, wide-eyed and shocked, at their leaders, Nightpaw’s tongue just peeking out from his muzzle.

“Come on, now,” Tinystar urged, flicking his tail. “Come.”

Reluctantly, the two toms rose. Together, dark pelts brushing, they moved through the massive group. The cats parted around them as murmurs of confusion echoed throughout the cave, the words drowned out by the roar of the waterfall. Crowpaw and Nightpaw stopped before Tallstar and Tinystar, their backs to the crowd.

“Crowpaw,” Tallstar began, “your life has been one of hardship. Your father, Deadfoot, my closest friend, died before you were born, and your littermates died as well, before their apprentice names could be spoken.” Tallstar’s eyes glittered with sorrow. “You were a troublesome, temperamental kit, and I worried you would grow to be as hard as a leaf-bare wind on the moor...”

“Nightpaw,” Tinystar meowed, “you are my son. Being the kit of a Clan leader can be a daunting thing, and some might say you took advantage of it...” Ripples of amusement rose from the ThunderClan cats. “But I gave you a stern mentor, and StarClan saw fit to put you on the path to the lake, even if they had not explicitly chosen you...”

Tallstar went next: “In being chosen by StarClan, Crowpaw, and placed on this journey, you have grown.”

Tinystar, then: “Nightpaw, you came back from that journey a changed cat. No longer a young apprentice, green behind his ears, but...”

Together, they declared, “A warrior.”

A ripple of surprise ran through the crowd. Stoneheart glanced at the others, and found their eyes sparkling. A warrior ceremony? Shadepaw stretched up on her hind paws to see, her whiskers twitching.

Crowpaw and Nightpaw stiffened. Both had suddenly realized what this was, and they looked at one another with wide, eager eyes.

Stoneheart’s heart thudded in his ears. Was this the first time in Clan history apprentices of two different Clans were being made warriors together? Every cat seemed to feel the weight of it, like a whisker shed from one’s muzzle might shatter the air into tiny little pieces.

“Nightpaw, do you promise to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?” Tinystar asked.

“Crowpaw, do you promise to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?” Tallstar repeated.

“I do,” Crowpaw said.

“I do,” Nightpaw echoed.

Tallstar’s eyes were kind. “In you, we see the future,” he said. “Crowpaw, WindClan honors your courage and your growth, and I name you Crowflight.”

He bent to touch Crowflight’s shoulder with his nose, and Crowflight licked his leader’s shoulder. Stoneheart guessed he murmured a thank-you, but he couldn’t hear it over the crashing waterfall.

“ThunderClan honors your determination and honesty, Nightpaw,” Tinystar meowed, touching his nose to Nightpaw’s forehead. “My dear son, I name you Nightfrost.”

“Crowflight and Nightfrost!” Shadepaw trilled, her voice a whisper. “Oh, wow!”

Nightfrost nudged Crowflight with a paw, his eyes bright. “Cool names!” the small tom squeaked eagerly. “Cool names!!” Crowflight nudged back, his tail bristling with embarrassment though his eyes shone just as warmly on Nightfrost.

“Crowflight! Nightfrost! Crowflight! Nightfrost!”

The cavern shook with the cheers of Tribe and Clan alike. The two new warriors turned to face their Clanmates, shoulder to shoulder, eyes wide as cats from all four Clans cheered their names – but no cats yowled louder than the chosen cats by the softpaw den.

Stoneheart caterwauled until his throat felt sore, pride and love welling up inside of him as he looked at the two new warriors. He felt as if he had helped them to this point, guided them like a mentor would an apprentice, or a brother another.

“They look so mature, now,” Rowanclaw sighed.

Stoneheart swallowed around emotions that choked his throat. “I know, right?” he rasped.

Rowanclaw nudged Stoneheart. “Probably because they had such good friends looking out for them, hm?”

Stoneheart watched the Clans cluster around Crowflight and Nightfrost, each and every cat offering their congratulations, regardless of Clan. The early days of the first journey, where the two had been at one another’s throats, felt so far away – now they were warriors together, as if they were of the same litter.

Tinystar's expression was difficult to see in the darkness, but Stoneheart detected something somber about it. Was he thinking of Sandstorm, who hadn’t been there to see her son become a warrior? Beside him, was Tallstar thinking of his lost friend Deadfoot the same way?

“Walk into the future, young ones,” Tallstar declared, as the cheering calmed down. His eyes were tired; dim, but so very happy. “Do it together.”

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Cover || Allegiances || Prologue || From the Beginning >>

============= ALLEGIANCES =============

(characters marked with a * are trans and are described with their preferred gender/pronouns)

============= RIVERCLAN =============

Leader: Leopardstar – dappled golden tabby she-cat with a scarred muzzle (mother of Falcontail and Mothwing)

Deputy: Tawnypelt – tortoiseshell she-cat with broad shoulders, green eyes (mother of Goldenpaw, Reedpaw and Rosepaw)

Medicine Cat: Mudfur – long-haired light brown tom (father of Leopardstar) (Mothwing)

Warriors:

Ripplecloud – gray tabby tom with white paws (Goldenpaw)

Brackenflight – golden brown tabby she-cat

Blackclaw – smoky black tom (Mackerelpaw)

Heronleap – lean smoky gray-black tom *

Heavystep – thickset tabby tom (Reedpaw)

Leafwhisker – small brown tabby tom (Rosepaw)

Stormfur – dark gray tom with amber eyes

Feathertail – silvery tabby she-cat with blue eyes

Frostsplash – white tom, former loner

Falcontail – smoky tabby tom with yellow eyes

Apprentices:

Mothwing – lovely golden brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes; medicine cat apprentice

Goldenpaw – broad-shouldered golden tabby tom

Reedpaw – black tom

Rosepaw – ginger-patched white she-cat

Mackerelpaw – tabby-and-white she-cat, former kittypet

Queens:

Mosspelt – tortoiseshell she-cat (mother of Willowkit)

Dawnflower – pale gray she-cat (mother of Frostsplash’s kits – Minnowkit, Pebblekit, and Tumblekit)

Elders:

Shadepelt – very dark gray she-cat

Loudbelly – dark brown tom

============= THUNDERCLAN =============

Leader: Tinystar – very small black tom with ice-blue eyes and one white paw (Sandstorm’s mate)

Deputy:  Sandstorm – pale ginger she-cat with green eyes (mother of Shadepaw and Nightpaw)

Medicine Cat: Brackenfur – golden brown tabby tom (Shadepaw)

Warriors:

Mousefur – small dusky brown she-cat (Spiderpaw)

Graystripe – long-furred gray tom with a dark stripe of fur down his spine (Silverstream’s mate) (Whitepaw)

Dustpelt – dark brown tabby tom (Cinderpelt’s mate) (Nightpaw)

Cinderpelt – smoky dark gray she-cat (mother of Spiderpaw)

Cloudtail – white she-cat with ginger tabby patches and a fluffy white tail (Swiftfoot and Brightheart’s mate)

Brightheart – pretty white she-cat with ginger patches, missing an eye and ear (Swiftfoot and Cloudtail’s mate, mother of Whitepaw)

Swiftfoot – stocky black-and-white tom, missing his tail (Cloudtail and Brightheart’s mate)

Ashfur – pale gray tom with darker flecks, dark blue eyes

Snowstep – snowy white tom, very blue eyes; deaf (Ferncloud’s mate)

Sootfur – light gray tabby tom, amber eyes

Rainwhisker – dark gray tom

Mistyfoot – long-furred dark blue-gray she-cat, blue eyes

Sorreltail – thick-furred tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

Apprentices:

Shadepaw – very dark tortoiseshell she-cat with white paws; medicine cat apprentice

Whitepaw – white she-cat with a ginger tabby rump and a ginger tail

Spiderpaw – leggy smoky gray she-cat *

Nightpaw – very small black tom with a thick, plumy tail and white paws

Queens:

Silverstream – sleek-furred silver tabby she-cat, formerly of RiverClan (mother of Feathertail and Stormfur)

Ferncloud – pale gray she-cat with darker flecks, green eyes (mother of Snowstep’s kits – Birchkit, Hollykit, and Larchkit)

Elders:

Oakheart – red-brown tabby tom, amber eyes (father of Mistyfoot and Stoneheart)

Frostfur – beautiful white she-cat, blue eyes (mother of Brackenfur, Cinderpelt, and Swiftfoot)

Dappletail – once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat, oldest cat in ThunderClan

Speckletail – pale tabby she-cat (mother of Snowstep and Brightheart)

Longtail – pale tabby tom with dark black stripes and a long tail, blind, recovering from an eye injury *

============= WINDCLAN =============

Leader: Tallstar – aging black-and-white tom with a very long tail

Deputy: Mudclaw – mottled dark brown tabby tom (Crowpaw)

Medicine Cats:

Barkface – short-tailed brown tom

Ryewhisper – very small brown-and-white tabby tom with bright green eyes

Warriors:

Onewhisker – brown tabby tom

Webfoot – dark gray tabby tom *

Ashfoot – gray she-cat (mother of Crowpaw)

Tornear – tabby tom with a ripped ear

Poppyfoot – tortoiseshell she-cat (Bristlepaw)

Robinwing – light brown she-cat with blue eyes

Smokewillow – lean pale gray-and-white tabby tom (Thornpaw)

Whitetail – small white she-cat

Graytail – long-legged gray tom with white paws and a white tail-tip

Emberstep – smoky black she-cat

Duskwhisker – sleek black she-cat

Apprentices:

Crowpaw – smoky gray, almost black, tom, blue eyes

Bristlepaw – thick-furred brown tabby tom

Thornpaw – golden-brown she-cat

Queens:

Bramblefur – pale brown tabby she-cat, amber eyes (mother of Bristlepaw and Thornpaw)

Softbreeze – very pale gray she-cat, former loner (mother of Weaselkit and Thistlekit)

Elders:

Morningflower – tortoiseshell she-cat

============= SHADOWCLAN =============

Leader: Russetstar – dark ginger she-cat with scarred shoulders (Pansytail’s mate)

Deputy: Blackfoot – large, sturdy white tom with black face, paws, and tail

Medicine Cat: Littlecloud – very small brown tabby tom

Warriors:

Oakfur – small brown tom (Smokepaw)

Cedarheart – dark gray tom (Finchsong’s mate)

Rowanclaw – ginger tabby tom * (Stoneheart’s mate) (Talonpaw)

Tallpoppy – long-legged light brown tabby she-cat (mother of Talonpaw)

Nightwing – black she-cat

Orre – golden-brown tom

Stoneheart – thick-furred pale blue-gray tom, blue eyes (Rowanclaw’s mate)

Pansytail – tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat, brilliant green eyes, former BloodClan cat (Russetstar’s mate) (Redpaw)

Wolftooth – thick-furred gray tom, former BloodClan cat (father of Finchsong)

Pinewhisker – scarred dark brown tabby tom, former loner

Skipnose – black-and-white tom with a black tail, former kittypet

Apprentices:

Smokepaw – a dark gray tom

Talonpaw – dark brown tabby tom

Redpaw – ginger she-cat, former kittypet

Queens:

Finchsong – very pale gray she-cat, former BloodClan cat (mother of Cedarheart’s kits – Willowkit and Rushkit)

Duskflower – black she-cat (mother of Smokepaw)

Elders:

Brick – very skinny, scarred dark ginger she-cat, former BloodClan cat *

Boulder – silver-gray tom

Runningnose – small gray-and-white tom, former medicine cat

============= TRIBE OF RUSHING WATER =============

Tribe Healer: (leader and healer of the Tribe)

Stoneteller (Teller of the Pointed Stones) – skinny dark brown tom with a graying muzzle and sharp yellow eyes

To-Be Healer: (Tribe cat in training to become the next Tribe Healer)

Snow that Drifts From Clouds (Snow)– long-furred white she-cat

Cave-Guards: (sharpclaws sorted into defending their Tribemates from hawks and other dangers)

Crag Where Eagles Nest (Crag) – dark gray tom

Sheer Path Beside Waterfall (Sheer) – dark brown tabby tom

Boulder Falling Down Cliffside (Boulder) – massive dark gray tabby tom (Night’s mate)

Cloud That Covers Moon (Cloud) – black she-cat *

Spray Dappling Cold Stone (Spray) – gray-and-ginger she-cat

Prey-Hunters: (sharpclaws sorted into hunting and feeding their Tribemates)

Gray Sky Before Dawn (Gray) – pale gray tabby tom *

Brook Where Small Fish Swim (Brook) – brown tabby she-cat

Swift Wind Through the Gorge (Swift) – slender silver tabby she-cat

Red Sun on Horizon (Red) – bright ginger tabby tom (father of Sun)

Claw of Hungry Wolf (Claw) – fluffy pale brown tom

Softpaws: (otherwise known as to-bes – young cats in training to-become sharpclaws)

Sun That Scatters on Water (Sun) – pale ginger tabby she-cat with white dappling and sharp yellow eyes *

Wing Shadow Over Water (Wing) – gray-and-white she-cat

Flight of Startled Heron (Flight) – brown tabby she-cat

Kit-Mothers:

Night of No Stars (Night) – black she-cat (mother of Boulder’s kits – Hawk, Swoop, and Ice)

Pale Dawn Light On Clouds (Pale) – sleek white she-cat with bright blue eyes (mother of Sun)

Elders:

Yarrow Growing Between Stones (Yarrow) – boney golden brown tabby tom

Cold Air Whistling Through Ravine (Cold) – gray-and-white she-cat

============= CATS (AND OTHER CREATURES) OUTSIDE THE CLANS =============

Midnight – stargazing badger that lives by the sea

Barley – black and white tom that lives on a farm close to the forest (Ravenpaw’s mate)

Ravenpaw – sleek black cat who lives with Barley (Barley’s mate)

Cody – tabby kittypet with blue eyes

Talon of Swooping Eagle (Talon) – dark brown tabby tom

Jagged Rock Where Heron Sits (Jag) – dark gray tom

Rock Beneath Still Water (Rock) – brown tom with a stumpy tail

Bird That Sings At Dusk (Bird) – gray tabby she-cat

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Allegiances || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || From the Beginning >>

Chapter 3

Mistyfoot wished for rain as she shook humidity from her pelt. Heat clung in the air like a burr, especially in the evening. It was making patrolling harder for ThunderClan – to beat the heat Tinystar ordered patrols only in the early morning and late evening and reports indicated that, in the past two days, every Clan was doing something similar.

“We’ll have to take water from the river at this rate,” muttered Mistyfoot. “The stream in the training hollow has all but dried.”

Oakheart flicked his ear. “I know,” he mused. “I’ll have to talk with Tinystar about it.”

Their patrol was small, and Mistyfoot was glad for it. She enjoyed padding along ThunderClan’s well-worn trails with her father. It reminded her of times when Oakheart would take her and her littermates out of camp as kits, to explore some of the forest beyond the ravine – only now it was just Mistyfoot and Oakheart and, of course, Shrewpaw.

Mistyfoot’s apprentice was stalking a bird not far away. The two warriors paused to let him practice – even if he didn’t catch it, it wasn’t as if the heat wave was hurting ThunderClan’s prey pile. Every creature was out searching for easy water sources, and that made them vulnerable.

“He’s picked up bird stalking very easily,” Mistyfoot pointed out, looking at Shrewpaw’s form.

Oakheart nodded. “That’s one area you always had trouble,” he pointed out.

Mistyfoot flicked her ear. “Father!” she huffed, embarrassment pricking her pelt. But in the end, bird stalking was a hard one to master, and Mistyfoot was proud of her apprentice. Birds had the pesky problem of taking flight right when a hunter was about to pounce, unlike shrews or voles or rabbits.

There was a shuffle in the leaf litter, and a grunt of satisfaction. Mistyfoot peered through the undergrowth. Shrewpaw had made his catch, and was proudly padding towards them. The tang of blood touched the air.

“Good catch!” Mistyfoot praised.

Shrewpaw put his catch down. “I smelled another,” he mewed. “Can I go after it?” He looked between the two warriors, eyes sparkling with adrenaline.

“Go on,” Mistyfoot told him. “Be sure to catch up with us afterward!”

“Thanks!” Shrewpaw’s tail curled over his back. He slipped off the trail and back into the overgrown undergrowth.

Mistyfoot lost sight of him, but could hear him rustling in the ferns not far away. Oakheart’s whiskers twitched and he began to pad along the trail. Mistyfoot followed.

“You’re a good teacher to Shrewpaw,” Oakheart mewed. “I’m proud of you.”

Mistyfoot blinked gratefully at Oakheart. “Thank you,” she meowed, a warm feeling spreading in her chest. “That means a lot.”

Oakheart’s tail flicked her shoulder. “You’re well on your way to taking my place,” he purred.

Mistyfoot fluffed up her fur, feeling flustered at the idea. “I-I don’t want to take your place!”

Oakheart didn’t seem offended. His eyes sparkled as he looked at his daughter. “I’m not the youngest cat in the forest, Mistyfoot. I don’t catch birds like I used to. Someone is going to have to take my place.”

Mistyfoot turned her eyes to her paws. “I’m not experienced enough yet,” she mumbled. The thought of her father growing old made her heart ache. Oakheart had always been there, throughout everything – losing Mosspaw, watching Stonepaw go, through all of the bullying and prejudice that Mistyfoot faced as a kit and apprentice… The idea of him disappearing from her life sooner rather than later made Mistyfoot deeply sad, and frightened of the loneliness that would inevitably follow.

What would she do without him?

A sharp cry pierced the forest. A flock of birds screeched in response, filling the air with the sound of their wings.

“What was that?” Oakheart breathed.

Mistyfoot froze, tail fluffed as fear struck her. “That was Shrewpaw!” she screeched, rushing past her father.

Undergrowth tugged at her pelt and ferns slapped Mistyfoot in the face as she tore through the forest, blowing past ThunderClan’s usual trails. Oakheart panted behind her. Another cry pierced the air – not Shrewpaw, but another cat, and closer. Mistyfoot put on speed, narrowly avoiding hazardous roots in her path thanks to muscle memory.

“They’re at Snakerocks!” Oakheart meowed, lengthening his stride to run shoulder to shoulder with Mistyfoot. His eyes flashed. “The badger!”

Mistyfoot’s heart beat in her ears while her stomach flipped over. “Is there a patrol there?” she panted, leaping over a thin-trunked tree that had fallen over leaf-bare.

Oakheart landed with a grunt, but did not slow his pace. “We’ve sent scouts to figure out a way to – hah – lure the badger out,” he meowed, panting, “but we haven’t attacked it yet.”

Mistyfoot bristled with alarm. If the badger was still there… Oh no, she thought, thinking back to Sorreltail’s warrior ceremony two days ago. Nightpaw and Shrewpaw, talking about taking on the badger… Oh StarClan, no!

Snakerocks loomed through the forest, and Mistyfoot and Oakheart had to skid to a stop. Oakheart coughed into some ferns, heat and effort making him wheeze. Mistyfoot’s pelt clung to her body, feeling heavier than a boulder – but she loped up to the edge of Snakerocks and peered through the fern fronds.

The tumble of boulders, overgrown with vines and lichen, stank of badger. Mistyfoot tried not to gag. The stones were often the home for snakes, which liked to hide in the cracks and crevices – but there were a small collection of caves formed by the stones, too, which often hid larger predators. Including the dogs my mother… Bluestar… tried to use to kill ThunderClan.

That was long ago now, but it seemed like Snakerocks was never free of trouble.

Shrewpaw was backed up against one of the stones, bristling to the ends of his fur. The badger was looming over him, snuffling and snarling, scratching at the rocks with her claws. Mistyfoot was, for a moment, stunned – Shrewpaw had a clear avenue of escape. He could easily outrun that badger. Why was he staying?

Movement in the shadows caught Mistyfoot’s eye. A small black shape was crouched inside a cracked, hollowed out old log. She saw the white tip of his tail trembling.

Nightpaw!

“Nightpaw is here,” Mistyfoot hissed.

Oakheart, now beside her, bristled. “I’ll distract the badger – you get the apprentices out of here.”

Mistyfoot had no time to protest. Oakheart flung himself into the fray, screeching to get the creature’s attention. Mistyfoot followed, her pads scraping against the stony earth.

The badger shifted, confused. She lashed out with a forepaw and almost took Shrewpaw’s muzzle with her long claws. Shrewpaw flinched and lashed out himself, catching his claws in her bristling fur.

Mistyfoot opened her jaws to warn Shrewpaw, but the badger let out an annoyed howl and whipped around. One of her broad paws slapped Shrewpaw aside. The small cat bounced off of one of the stones and lay still on the earth.

“Shrewpaw!” screeched Mistyfoot, panic shooting through her limbs.

“Get Nightpaw!” Oakheart yowled, his voice forcing its way into Mistyfoot’s head. “Now!”

Mistyfoot turned her head away from Oakheart as he faced the badger, snarling and bristling. She found Nightpaw in the hollow log easily – there was a tang of blood in the air, and only one eye met hers.

“What happened?” she hissed.

Nightpaw crawled out of the log, trembling. There was a cut above one of his eyes – nothing life threatening, but bleeding quite a bit. “I-I was hunting with Dustpelt!” he panted. “I-I saw a shrew run this way a-and…”

“And you followed?!” snapped Mistyfoot. “What were you thinking?”

Nightpaw flinched. “I got turned around and ended up here by accident,” he insisted, “I swear by StarClan!”

Mistyfoot had no idea whether or not Nightpaw was telling the truth, but she had no time to figure it out. “Get in the ferns and stay put,” she ordered.

Nightpaw didn’t argue, for once. He fled, tail tucked, leaving little spatters of blood behind him. Mistyfoot whirled around and leaped back into the fray, claws unsheathed, moving through all she knew about fighting badgers from her days as Tinystar’s apprentice.

Oakheart was tired, clearly, his eyes glassy with pain. Mistyfoot saw a cut down her father’s side and winced, feeling fear and fury well up in her all at once as she faced the black-and-gray creature.

“She’s fierce,” Oakheart wheezed. “Be careful.”

Mistyfoot nodded. A badger’s sight would be just as keen as a cats’ in the growing dark.

The badger lumbered forward, growling low in its throat. Mistyfoot hissed and lashed out, catching her claws on the badger’s nose. Blood welled up on the badger’s striped muzzle, and Mistyfoot felt a flash of satisfaction.

Oakheart snarled and tried to shuffle to the side, tail lashing. The badger caught sight of him, however, and swung her head to snap her jaws. Mistyfoot saw her teeth catch her father’s leg, and heard a snapping noise. Oakheart let out a bellow of pain.

Mistyfoot yowled in fury and leaped, digging her claws into the badger’s pelt. Tinystar’s training flitted through her mind, cut with panic and fury. The badger whirled, turning in circles, trying to dislodge Mistyfoot.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins as Mistyfoot clung. Snakerocks spun all around her, threatening to make her ill – still she clung, knowing that sooner or later something had to make the badger stop. Endurance was all she had.

StarClan help us! She thought.

As if in answer to her prayers, a yowl rose into the growing darkness. “ThunderClan, attack!”

Through the flailing of the badger Mistyfoot spotted Dustpelt, Snowstep, Swiftfoot, and Cloudtail streaming into Snakerocks, claws unsheathed and tails bristling. A whole patrol!

The badger stopped, stunned by all the newcomers. Mistyfoot slithered off of the badger’s side, trembling and feeling weak and dizzy from the cloying smells of badger and blood.

Snowstep and Swiftfoot flanked the badger quickly, snapping at her heels. Dustpelt and Cloudtail charged at her headlong, screeching in fury. Terrified, the badger scrambled backwards, crawling desperately over the rocks to escape. Snowstep and Swiftfoot followed, with Cloudtail snapping at her tail.

“Get them out of here!” snapped Dustpelt.

Mistyfoot nodded, still dazed. She watched Dustpelt follow his patrol through the undergrowth before she staggered to her paws, shaking her head to clear it. The adrenaline was fading and clarity was returning – and along with exhaustion, the panic returned.

Shrewpaw! Oakheart!

Her father was closer. He’d dragged himself towards a rock, grunting in pain as he lay in the undergrowth. Blood oozed from his leg and side and his eyes were glazed. Mistyfoot buried her nose in his pelt and began cleaning his wounds with a shaky muzzle.

Oakheart hissed in pain. “I’ll be fine,” he gasped. “Where’s Shrewpaw?”

White hot panic shot through Mistyfoot. She raised her head, her eyes darting from rock to rock, trying to find where Shrewpaw had landed. The sound he’d made when he hit the stone… Oh StarClan, please let him be alive!

A dark shape moved through the area, and for a moment Mistyfoot wondered if the badger had returned – but a flash of white betrayed Nightpaw once again. The small tom was crawling between the stones, and Mistyfoot’s eye followed him until he slumped down beside a dark, sodden brown shape.

Shrewpaw.

Mistyfoot stumbled over to her apprentice. “Shrewpaw?” she asked hesitantly.

Nothing.

Nightpaw buried his muzzle into Shrewpaw’s ruff. “He’s not breathing,” the small apprentice whispered. “Oh StarClan… it’s…”

It’s all my fault, Mistyfoot thought numbly, sinking to her belly. She pressed her muzzle into Shrewpaw’s fur. He was still as the stone he’d slammed against, and growing just as cold. Only his fur stirred, and that was with Mistyfoot’s own ragged gasps.

All of her energy drained out of her until she felt cold, exposed, and utterly defeated. She slumped against Shrewpaw’s body and let out a wail.