#sunhigh

[bonefall]

while we’re talking about the gods and how fucked up they are, does sol have a “canon” appearance while he’s not possessing anyone / taking a specific form ie the fish thing?

I'm not sure if any of them have a TRUE form, as in, a specific body they have when they aren't in a vessel. It's like they have an "energy" and it can express itself in many ways.

Like how Sharptooth/One Eye has cycled through the forms of a bear, a boar, a man, a cave lion. He is an icon of war, his constant is that he invokes war.

So I'm thinking that Sol invokes fish, SPECIFICALLY he tends to invoke a salmon! He may have a few other icons associated with Autumn and change. Like a dormouse before torpor, a deer rapidly cycling through velvet, a moth.

Also also these are examples of gods who have "Broken Orbit." I'm calling it that until I have a better term for it, but what that means is that they are spirits who have become so ancient and powerful, they can live independently of the dead religions that formed them.

This could very well happen to StarClan Spirits one day, but a spirit had a few options for how its fate can progress;

Spirit forms -> joins religion -> is not worshipped/invoked/eventually forgotten -> fades peacefully

Spirit forms -> has no religion to join -> fades peacefully (Those two are the most common. That's normal, no one is exactly sure what happens after one fades, but it isn't painful. It's like falling asleep. Gods and monsters happen when THIS happens;)

Spirit forms -> joins religion -> is worshipped -> gains power -> RELIGION DIES

THIS happened to SkyClan and their rats. NONE of the spirits of ancient SkyClan where old and powerful enough yet to truly "Break Orbit," but they weren't so weak that they all died. They became a sort of supernatural monster; a collective association of angry rats.

Creating Skypelt saved them, but eventually they would have been dealt with and whittled away over time.

One Eye, Sol, Rock, and Midnight were from ancient religions that died, and they "broke orbit." They were strong enough to exist on their own. They're good examples of the "power ceiling" here; this is as strong as a god can get. It took several hundred years of continuous worship to make them.

There's probably more out there in the world, but there's only these 4 in this geographic region.

[vanillajestersart]

Coyotestar, the very scary but very short leader of Sunclan

[lannisterdaddyissues]

living in 2023 really is just like *checks the clock* goddammit it’s some fucking time again *checks the calendar* goddammit it’s some fucking day of some fucking month of some fucking year again

[genderqueertree]

i think snowfur is one of those girls that you think is normal but she's currently thinking about the most violent things the cat mind can imagine

[cheryxshug]

yes absolutely

do you guys think noon would be a valid warrior cats prefix/suffix

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Mystique went into labor around sunhigh. Russetfrond was out on border patrol when it happened and the moment he got back, Barleybee came to let him know. 

“Thank you,” he said, gratitude quickly overwhelmed with nerves. 

“Of course,” she smiled sympathetically. “She’s still in the elders’ den. Sagetooth and my dad are with her.” 

“Alright,” he nodded. They stood there for an awkward moment, neither sure what to do, before Barleybee dipped her head and left him to his business. His mind was completely empty and going faster than a frightened rabbit at the same time. After either a few moments or several minutes, he wasn’t sure, Russetfrond gathered himself together and went to sit outside the elders’ den. 

He resisted the urge to pace or to barge into the den to ask how things were going. He’d seen too many anxious parents-to-be get their ears chewed off by Sagetooth when they intruded on a kitting in progress. Instead, he sat still and tried to focus on his breathing, on emptying all worry from his mind. Today was important, the birth of his eldest kits. He wasn’t going to squander it worrying. He was going to focus on his new family, on the beginning of a new chapter in his ultimate legacy. 

The time dragged by at an unbearable crawl. Every so often a cat stopped by to congratulate him or ask him how things were going. He remained as polite as possible but kept things short. He didn’t want any distractions. 

Eventually, an hour or so later, Sagetooth stepped outside, blood on her paws, and glanced over at him. “Are you ready?” 

“Is any father ever ready?” he asked, almost hoping she would say yes.

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. A quiet moment passed as Sagetooth let her gaze drift across the camp. When it finally settled on him again, she said, “Congratulations on two healthy boys. Be warned though: the kittypet is in a mood.” 

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he said, a fond smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Sagetooth. I mean it.” 

“Of course, kit,” she softened slightly. “Go meet your sons.” Russetfrond nodded and slipped past her into the den, letting his tail brush against her leg as he did. Inside, Mystique was laying in her nest, her head flat on the ground like a mopy kitten while she talked softly with Oddstripe. 

“-bring you some chamomile later,” Oddstripe was saying. “It’s gonna be alright, sweetheart. Don’t hesitate to call me if you start feeling any worse.” 

“...‘Kay,” Mystique sighed moodily, eyes flickering over Russetfrond. He tried not to scowl. 

Oddstripe bumped foreheads with Mystique and then picked up the birthwaste and stood to leave. Spotting Russetfrond he frowned slightly, if sympathetically, and slipped out of the den past him. Russetfrond shifted his weight, looked at Mystique, and she sighed and rolled her eyes over to the far wall. 

Russetfrond stepped closer, focusing on the two gently squirming bodies nestled up against her belly. They were so tiny. Russetfrond realized suddenly that he’d never seen kittens this… new. The kits - his boys - were a little wet yellow lump and a little wet blue lump mewling pathetically as they wriggled closer to Mystique. It was strange, the surge of emotion that he felt upon seeing them. He’d never felt so intensely protective before, it was a bit startling. 

“Hello, there, little ones,” he said awkwardly, crouching down beside them. “I’m your father.” Mystique huffed and shifted her position a little bit, still not looking at him. He couldn’t stop himself from scowling at her but tried to soften his expression again with a sigh. 

“You haven’t named them yet, have you?” he asked, a note of irritation sneaking in to his voice despite his best efforts. 

“No,” Mystique said as if he were the dumbest cat alive. “Why would I name them?” 

That caused his hackles to rise. “Because they’re your children, mouse-brain,” he scoffed.

Mystique’s tail lashed and she flopped her head sideways to glare at him. “No, I feel like you made it pretty clear they were your children.” 

“Look,” Russetfrond took a deep breath to try and anchor himself, “I didn’t come in here to fight with you, let’s just… forget it, alright?” 

“Easy for you to say,” Mystique grumbled, looking away again. Russetfrond dug his claws into the earth and did his very best not to say anything at all. After a few, slow breaths, he refocused on the kittens. They would need names, of course. He had unfortunately forgotten to think about names before now. 

“I’ll call them…” He hesitated before going with the first thoughts that came to mind, “Bluekit and Yellowkit.”

“Wow,” Mystique laughed and he could hear the eye roll in her voice, “so original.” 

“If you think they’re bad names then why don’t you try to do better,” he snapped, tail bristling. 

“I don’t give a shit what you call them,” growled Mystique. “The moment Sagetooth lets me, I'm going home and I’ll never see them or you ever again!” 

“Well, that’s fine by me,” Russetfrond huffed. “I wouldn’t want you influencing them anyway.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Mystique laughed harshly, “better to have a bunch of murderers raise them. That’s SO much better!” 

Russetfrond bristled. “Your brother was the murderer. He attacked Goldenstar out of spite, I was just defending my Clan.” 

“Well clearly it wasn’t that bad ‘cause she’s fine,” Mystique snarled. Tears were starting to form in her eyes and drip down the bridge of her nose. “You think you’re so special but you’re never gonna convince me that it’s good that you killed him! I hate you! I hate you and your stupid kits and this stupid den!”

“Don’t talk about them like that,” he growled lowly. 

“You’re lucky I don’t throw them in the river!” hissed Mystique.

Russetfrond bristled and arched his back. “You harm one hair on their pelts and I’ll make sure you never see your precious twolegs again! Is that what you want?” 

“I want to go home!” she cried at the top of her lungs and the kittens squealed in displeasure. “I want my brother back!” 

“Well too bad!” he shouted back at her. “You can’t always have what you want, you spoiled little brat!” 

“I hate you!” Mystique screamed, eyes shut tight with the effort of it. “I hate you! I hate you! I-”

“What is going on in here!?” Sagetooth’s voice cut through their argument, quick and sharp, leaving Russetfrond standing in a puddle of guilt. The healer’s eyes flicked between the both of them, looking for a culprit. Russetfrond couldn’t hold her gaze and dropped his eyes to the floor shamefully. Mystique breathed harshly through her nose and looked away again. 

“Out,” Sagetooth ordered Russetfrond. 

He couldn’t think of anything to say. With an affirmative grunt, he stepped outside. Fogpaw and Slatepaw were staring with wide eyes from the fresh-kill pile. Pantherhaze, Ospreymask, Barleybee, and Lakekit had all emerged to see what was going on. Shame covered Russetfrond like a winter coat. Unable to bear their stares, he strode briskly into the healers’ den and tucked himself away out of sight. 

There was a long moment of quiet guilt - why had he done that? What was wrong with him? - and then he heard Sagetooth snapping at the assembled cats, “Where did he go?” 

“Your den,” offered Slatepaw obediently. 

“Thank you,” said Sagetooth just as harshly as she had inquired after him and he braced himself. Sagetooth came stomping in, tail lashing back and forth, and spotted him immediately. He expected her to start laying into him but instead, she sighed and trundled over to sit next to him. 

“I tried to warn you,” she grumbled. 

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not entirely your fault,” Sagetooth shook her head. “Mystique is reacting poorly to the pregnancy.” 

“Clearly,” he huffed. 

“No, I mean physically,” Sagetooth said. “Kitting takes a toll on a cat and sometimes it can make them miserable for seemingly no reason. They call it a Kitten Crash.” 

“Oh,” he frowned in surprise. 

“So,” Sagetooth continued, her own voice strained with frustration for a moment, “as much as her particular form of crashing drives me mad, we need to be gentle with her.” It was clear Sagetooth was going to have as much trouble with that as he was. “She can’t exactly help it. And if her symptoms worsen, it could be very bad.” 

“Bad how?” asked Russetfrond carefully.

“Well, she could stop eating,” Sagetooth sighed. “Or refuse to nurse. Worst case scenario she tries to hurt herself or the kits.” 

“What?” fear spiked through his body like a jolt of electricity. “Shouldn’t we get them away from her?”

“No,” Sagetooth shook her head again. “She’s the only one who can feed them at the moment and that’s not a guarantee, it’s just a worst case scenario. That’s why we need to be gentle with her. The less stressed she is, the less likely it is that she’ll do something foolish.” 

Russetfrond swallowed, throat tight, and sat with that information for a bit. The idea of leaving a dangerous cat alone with his kits, a cat who hated him so much, made every inch of his pelt crawl like it was full of ants. She had already threatened to throw them in the river, a threat that was suddenly a lot more serious than he had first thought. 

“You’re sure it will be alright?” he asked eventually. 

“If it gets to a point where it’s dangerous, we’ll do something about it,” Sagetooth said. “She should probably still have a guard at all times so they can monitor her for any bad behavior.” Russetfrond nodded and started thinking of the best cats to do that. 

“The important thing,” Sagetooth continued, “is to keep her happy. Oddstripe and I will do our best on the herbs side of things but you should probably stay out of the den, at least for a while.” 

Russetfrond sighed and nodded. “Alright. That won’t affect the kits negatively?” 

“I don’t think so,” Sagetooth said. “Not anymore than a normal foundling would be affected.” Russetfrond hummed in discomfort. It wasn’t ideal, that was for sure, but what else could he do? He didn’t want to accidentally provoke Mystique into harming the kittens.

“Did you name them?” asked Sagetooth.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, shaking his thoughts away. “Yellowkit and Bluekit, respectively.” 

Sagetooth huffed a little laugh. “Well, I can’t say they’re not fitting.” Russetfrond smiled a little. “Congratulations, by the way,” continued Sagetooth. “You’re going to be an excellent father.” 

“I can only hope so,” he said. 

“StarClan will guide you,” she said. “Trust your heart. It will be okay, kit.”

UPDATES:

- Mystique gives birth to a litter of two kittens. Russetfrond names them Bluekit and Yellowkit.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 59

Scrubmask was murdered. The culprit is unknown.

[Image ID: Downstar, Carnationspeckle, and James face Clammask. Under Clammask, Carnationspeckle and James, it says + CONDITION: GRIEVING. Clammask says “I don’t… I don’t understand.”]

Scrubmask was scheduled for a border patrol at sunhigh, so she went for a walk in the morning. It was now late afternoon, and she had not returned to camp. For most cats, Clammask would have waited a while, wondering what mischief they got up to in their free time that kept them from their duties. But Scrubmask? No. Something was wrong.

Downstar sent out three patrols. Waspdawn led Tempestshade, Mosspounce, and Darkkick south. Weedfoot took Wildclaw, Elmsprout, and Drumpaw into the heart of the territory. Downstar’s patrol, which included Carnationspeckle, Halibutdusk, and shockingly, James, headed for the river. That left Clammask and the rest of her kits to wait in camp, stomachs twisted and claws itching.

“We should have our own patrol looking for Ma!” Leatherpaw snapped as he paced around the apprentice’s den. “Why does Drumpaw get to look for her, but we have to stay home?”

“Because your mentors are still in camp,” Clammask reminded her son. She sat in Drumpaw’s nest, giving her three sons extra company in the dreadful wait.

“Weedfoot’s on patrol,” Splashpaw pointed out, batting at the purple ribbon he chose to keep around his neck after his escapade.

“You’re still in trouble for disappearing, regardless of who you brought to camp,” Clammask huffed with a hard look.

“Hasn’t StarClan said anything, Honeypaw?” Leatherpaw huffed, turning to his lanky brother in the corner of the den. 

“Troutpool hasn’t taught me how to petition StarClan directly yet,” Honeypaw sighed. He laid on his side, tail flicking absent mindedly. “I’d go out if I could be any help, but I don’t think Ma wants us to see whatever problem she’s in.” 

“That’s right,” Clammask said. “Your mother wouldn’t want all four of her kits roaming the forest looking for her.”

“But Drumpaw gets to go,” Splashpaw muttered, getting to his feet and mimicking Leatherpaw’s pacing. 

Clammask gave up trying to steer her sons away from their doomed thinking. Instead she set her head on the edge of Scalepaw’s empty nest and studied the den. She hadn’t been inside the apprentice’s den since she graduated. She thought back to those first two moons, before Halibutdusk, Shadowdrop, and Wildclaw were apprenticed, the nights when it was just Clampaw, Burdockpaw, and Locustpaw, the first born to RippleClan, ready to make history. How many nights did Burdockcreek keep her and Locustseeker up with a new amazing story about the other Clans? How many pranks did Locustseeker scheme over when Clammask wasn’t looking? How different would it have been if Twinekit made it to that den as well? Oilstripe had told Clammask that all three were watching over her during the birth of her kits… were they there now, reminiscing with her?

A tortoiseshell pelt shifted outside the apprentice’s den. Clammask hurried to her paws. Downstar! She slipped around her impatient sons and joined her leader outside. Downstar, Carnationspeckle, and James all lingered near the entrance, exhaustion pulling at their pelts. Where was Halibutdusk?

“You haven’t found Scrubmask?” Clammask asked. Downstar started to say something, but she swallowed hard instead.

“Carnationspeckle,” Downstar muttered quietly to the brown ticked molly (whose fur had finally recovered from all the mats of her imprisonment), “find two cats to fetch the other patrols.” Carnationspeckle nodded, her stance stiff and paws uncertain as they led her to the warrior’s den.

“You’re stopping the search?” Leatherpaw launched out of the apprentice’s den, lips curled. “That’s our mother out there!”

“Leatherpaw,” Clammask growled, heart aching at the fear in her son’s eyes.

“We found your mother, Leatherpaw,” Downstar said softly. Clammask looked back to her leader. The world became just the two of them alone on the sand.

“I don’t…” Clammask gulped. “I don’t understand.” James whined softly and shook his head, retreating to the elder’s den.

“We found her in the river,” Downstar said. Her tail slipped under her. “She was muzzle-first in the water. I don’t know if someone held her under or smashed her head against the rocks–“

“Someone?” Leatherpaw yowled, his long pelt shaking and standing on end like Downstar was about to attack. “You said someone. You, you think a cat did it. You think a cat killed my mother!” Downstar flinched at the words. Splashpaw and Honeypaw stood in quiet horror in the mouth of the apprentice’s den.

The peaceful and content future Clammask imagined with her mate crumbled around her.

(Clammask: 53, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Leatherpaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, vengeful, avid play-fighter, confident with words)

(Splashpaw: 7, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still, lover of art)

(Honeypaw: 7, male, cleric apprentice, daring, has lots of ideas)

(Downstar: 118, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Carnationspeckle: 61, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(James: 135, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

An injured LynxClan warrior limps into camp, begging for sanctuary.

[Image ID: Leatherpaw, Honeypaw, and Trumpetspore watch a brown tabby enter camp. Trumpetspore yowls, “Spirit of Shadow!” Under the brown tabby, it says NEW PLAYER: RAPIDLEAF, 77, FEMALE, LONESOME, PROPHECY INTERPRETER, + CONDITION: WATER IN LUNGS.]

---

RippleClan had been through hard times; the war with AshClan, freeing Carnationspeckle… Scrubmask’s death, her murder, it was different. The confusion, grief, and rage that covered the Clan was different than anything Downstar had felt since founding the Clan. Scrubmask’s vigil was as noisy as a Gathering, with everyone arguing and debating what exactly happened to Scrubmask and if anyone could have prevented it. Leatherpaw was outright yowling at Trumpetspore, demanding someone, anyone, go out there and find his mother’s killer. Paleseed had to drag him back. Honeypaw was absorbed in weaving a vine necklace with Rabbitjoy, performing his duty as a cleric with unnatural solemnity. Splashpaw, idly rubbing his ribbon against his shoulder, would not leave his mother’s side. Drumpaw could not leave either cat alone.

Downstar didn’t want to think about Clammask.

When Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn returned from their investigation with Scrubmask’s body, they confirmed the patrol’s suspicions. The death blows matched that of a cat, but they were sloppy, lucky strikes. The river washed away the killer’s scent, and Scrubmask had no clumps of fur in her claws to narrow down the killer’s appearance. Both theorized that it was a Witch Hunter, some disgruntled member of the group who disapproved of the uneasy truce and decided to continue the killing. Yet Honeypaw, with a look in his eyes that screamed of wisdom older than he was, simply shook his head and returned to work.

Downstar couldn’t leave her den. First Fennelspot, her most loyal friend, with her since her first moments, gone in a ridiculous accident. Then Rustshade, her staunch supporter and former mate, taken by an oh so deadly disease. And now Scrubmask, the loyal young warrior who wanted something new. Downstar had only managed to drag herself out of camp with the news of Scrubmask’s disappearance. Now? Now it would take an act of StarClan to get her outside. 

She could not see her friend’s body again. She refused.

There was a place between sleep and consciousness that restored little energy and left the mind in a haze. That was where Downstar laid, quiet in her nest, when there was a shift to the chatter outside. Confused and angry mutters turned into sharp and shocked yowls.

“Spirit of Shadow!” Trumpetspore screeched. Downstar forced herself to her paws, heart pounding.

“Ya need your eyes checked, Ms. Trumpetspore,” Parsley scoffed. “That’s a cat.” Downstar hurried out of her den. Water dripped off short brown fur. Soaked paws caught the sand and left deep pawprints. Bleary cyan eyes bounced unfocused inside a large, gaunt skull. RippleClan hissed and instinctively gathered around Scrubmask’s body, despite there being nothing left of her to protect. Downstar recognized the enemy warrior. How could she not? In the days when she was Downdapple and RippleClan was but a dream, Scrubmask frequently appeared at Gatherings with her cousin, born at the same time as her, closer than cousins almost ever were; Rapidleaf.

Rapidleaf shook and coughed, water spilling out of her mouth. She blindly stumbled on, unaware of the angry cats around her. Honeypaw crept closer as Rapidleaf’s steps grew more and more unsteady. Honeypaw reached a paw out to Rapidleaf. Her eyes dilated, wide as the full moon. Rapidleaf swiped at Honeypaw. Her claws barely missed her eyes. Leatherpaw and Clammask, who suddenly snapped out of her spot beside her mate, grieving, tackled Rapidleaf. She shook and spluttered under their combined weight.

“How did a LynxClan warrior get all the way here?” Drumpaw gulped, sharing a scared glance with Splashpaw. 

“Perhaps she came here with a message from Mistlestar,” Spikecrash hummed, carefully approaching the trapped warrior. Darkkick, however, stood in front of her daughter and shook her head. 

“She’s half-drowned,” Troutpool huffed, weaving through the shocked crowd. “I don’t think she even knows where she is.” Rapidleaf panted hard, wild eyes glaring at Troutpool with a killer’s lust. Clammask shoved Rapidleaf’s face in the sand. Her shaking slowed and her eyes dropped. Leatherpaw froze.

“Mom, did we just kill her?” he gulped, turning to Clammask.

“She’s only unconscious,” Troutpool sighed, gently nudging Leatherpaw off. “StarClan only knows what she’s been through. Honeypaw, we need to bring her into the medicine den.”

“During Scrubmask’s vigil?” Trumpetspore huffed. “Shouldn’t we send her back to her Clan?”

“As though she could make it that far,” Honeypaw snapped, nosing Rapidleaf. Sand coated half her body. Troutpool would usually remind her apprentice to respect his elders, but Troutpool stayed silent and got Rapidleaf onto her back. In the confusion of the moment, Weedfoot slunk up to Downstar. Downstar startled at the sight of her loyal deputy.

“If I need to argue with Troutpool, I can,” Weedfoot muttered. “We can send a patrol to bring her home as soon as Troutpool treats her.”

“I’m not sending someone out to die,” Downstar snapped. She was so loud, nearby Clanmates turned their attention from the drowned newcomer to their angry leader. Weedfoot didn’t flinch at the sudden yowl, however. She kept a cool gaze. 

“The last few moons have hurt,” Weedfoot reminded her leader, “but don’t forget you still have a whole Clan at your side, Downstar.” Weedfoot brushed her tail against Downstar’s shoulder and followed Troutpool and Honeypaw into the medicine den. Downstar stared at her Clan. Her outburst was quickly ignored as her friends and family returned to mourning their first warrior. 

And Downstar? Downstar returned to her den.

(Downstar: 118, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Leatherpaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, vengeful, avid play-fighter, confident with words)

(Honeypaw: 7, male, cleric apprentice, daring, has lots of ideas)

(Splashpaw: 7, male, historian apprentice, bold, never sits still, lover of art)

(Drumpaw: 7, female, caretaker apprentice, loyal, moss-ball hunter) 

(Trumpetspore: 20, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

(Rapidleaf: 77, female, warrior, lonesome, prophecy interpreter)

(Clammask: 53, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)

(Spikecrash: 34, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Darkkick: 119, trans female, warrior, talented swimmer, understands nature)

(Troutpool: 20, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense

(Weedfoot: 108, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

Lavendertwist heals with a deep scar. He makes sure his collar covers it.

[Image ID: Lavendertwist has a big pink scar across his throat, covered by his black collar. Under him, it says LEVEL UP! GOOD SINGER -> GREAT SINGER, - CONDITION: CLAW WOUND.]

---

“Three—” Lavendertwist began to sing before a cough quickly took over. The sound grew muffled in the hum of the ocean at his paws. His stiff collar acted as a comforting weight against the large scar across his neck. Oh how he had missed his collar over the long season. He didn’t feel like a slab of leather anymore since Troutpool removed those stitches. 

“Three little kits—” Stars damn it! Another awful cough shook through Lavendertwist’s body. He had to get his voice back. He’d explode if he couldn’t talk! The last season of silence had been awful as it was! He slashed at the water with a hiss that made his wound ache.

“There you are!” Elmsprout trotted down the beach, squinting against the morning glow along the water. “From the way you’ve been eyeing the ocean from camp the last few moons, I knew you’d wander out here when you got the chance.” Lavendertwist’s grumpy mood softened as the friend who’d stuck with him throughout his healing journey took a spot beside him (although she refused to touch the salty waves; what a drypaw!). “I told Weedfoot I’d join you for a hunting patrol, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’m trying to sing,” Lavendertwist suddenly croaked, the words escaping before he finished his thought. His voice was so ragged! Troutpool insisted it would heal, but the thought of waiting another season to get his voice back made him grit his jaw tight.

“I could use a good song right now,” Elmsprout sighed. “I left AshClan to escape the stress and gloom being the leader’s daughter would bring about, and I didn’t join RippleClan to see everyone chase their tails over Scrubmask and Rapidleaf.” Lavendertwist brushed his paw against his neck, thinking.

“I taught her kits this song,” Lavendertwist said softly, so as to soothe his throat. “She and I weren’t the best mentor and apprentice, but I appreciate everything she did for me back then.”

“From what I know about StarClan,” Elmsprout hummed, “Scrubmask is probably listening now. She’d love to hear your songs, even if she never would have admitted it in life.” Elmsprout giggled as she insulted the dead, and that made Lavendertwist giggle too. He coughed again, swallowing hard. 

“I don’t think I can yet,” he muttered. Elmsprout stared at the blinding light on the ocean, eyes squinting as she thought up a solution.

“I’ll sing it for you?” she said, phrasing it like an uncertain question. “I’m not a good singer, but I can try. What’s the song?” Elmsprout’s gray fur glowed in the ocean’s salty spray, brightened by the simple kindness she likely didn’t realize she was showing.

“Three Little Kits From Camp,” Lavendertwist gulped, blinking wildly.

“I think I know that one,” Elmsprout said. She cleared her throat and sang, “Three little kits from camp are we, pert as a little kit can be, filled to the brim with youthful glee, three little kits from camp.” Elmsprout was right; she was not a good singer. She sounded more like a crow than a songbird.

But Lavendertwist didn’t care. He still loved it.

(Lavendertwist: 25, male, warrior, playful, great singer, good speaker)

(Elmsprout: 26, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

Mosspounce and Lemmy really think the Clan doesn’t notice how the pair look at each other? No one is shocked when they announce they are mates.

[Image ID: Mosspounce and Lemmy sit together. Under Mosspounce, it says + MATE: LEMMY. Under Lemmy, it says + MATE: MOSSPOUNCE.]

---

Yellowcough truly was awful. Sure, Lemmy was no longer trapped in a tiny human den filling up with her own sick and waste, she got the Clan’s strange medicine that helped her breathe, and Tempestshade would visit with whatever meal the artisans and caretakers had cooked that day. But she was still alone in the back of a shipwreck while everyone else in her new home tried to figure out who drowned Scrubmask in the river.

This was the sort of task Lemmy excelled at when she was with the Witch Hunters. It was why Madeline had trusted her to become an enforcer, someone who could protect the housecats and strays of the area under a shared leadership and set of rules. At least Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn were acknowledging her shared status as a codekeeper by filling her in on their investigation. If she had gotten to see the scene of the crime, Lemmy was certain she would know if the killer was a Witch Hunter or not. Alas, she would never know.

Couldn’t the clerics cure her already? She was supposed to be starting a life somewhere where she didn’t have to worry about everyone she slept beside turning on her for dreams she couldn’t control (thanks StarClan). She still had a foggy image of RippleClan in her mind. She should get to know her Clanmates!

“Food delivery!” Mosspounce carried a dried fish into the quarantine den, tail high. Lemmy had been finishing the last of her medicine when the black tom arrived. She swallowed the bitter medicine as Mosspounce set her food in front of her. Mosspounce then loafed a tail-length away with a stupidly happy expression on his face.

“You could get sick if you stay in here,” Lemmy pointed out as she bit into the fish.

“Troutpool says you’ll be better in less than a moon,” Mosspounce explained. “You probably aren’t even infectious anymore!”

“And yet I still feel like I’m breathing rocks,” Lemmy scoffed. Mosspounce chuckled, even though Lemmy wasn’t joking. Her pain eased slightly. 

“Well, um…” Mosspounce laughed, settling deeper into the den, “there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“Lemmy, did you finish your medicine?” Honeypaw poked his head into the quarantine den. “Oh, hello Mosspounce. Are you two finally mates now?” Lemmy stopped breathing. Mosspounce laughed again, this time with more strain in his voice as he kept his gaze away from the other cats in the den.

“I, uh,” Mosspounce coughed, “I was, uh… about to ask that. Actually. Thought, uh… since you helped me so much, Lemmy, and you know, left your home for us and all that… maybe we could be mates?” By the crows, the hope in Mosspounce’s face hurt. Why wasn’t Lemmy breathing? If she didn’t like Mosspounce, she would have been able to say so with ease. So why weren’t her words coming to her?

“Alright,” she said, despite herself. Mosspounce’s face glowed.

“Really?” Mosspounce gasped. “Thank you, Lemmy! I promise I’ll make you happy here.” He jumped to his paws and ran to Lemmy, but both Lemmy and Honeypaw hissed at him.

“She’s still sick!” Honeypaw reminded the eager new mate.

“Right, right,” Mosspounce gulped, backing up. His paw slipped on a clump of moss from a forgotten nest and his legs flew out from under him. 

In yet another awfully uncharacteristic moment for Lemmy, the young tortoiseshell laughed.

(Lemmy: 35, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)

(Mosspounce: 20, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Honeypaw: 7, male, cleric apprentice, daring, has lots of ideas)

James can hardly believe how quickly time has passed since Scalepaw was a kit. It feels like just yesterday he was tumbling around the nursery after a moss-ball. Full of pride and joy, James throws his head back and yowls the loudest as his son is named Scaleripple.

[Image ID: Scalepaw, now Scaleripple, stands as a long-furred adult with fully developed vitiligo. Under him, it says LEVEL UP! SCALEPAW -> SCALERIPPLE, AVID PLAY-FIGHTER -> FORMIDABLE FIGHTER.]

---

Scaleripple. Scaleripple. The white-speckled tom silently toyed with the new name as the final moments of his vigil crept to an end and dawn held the world tight. Had Downstar named him after the Clan? After his sister? Was the name based on him alone? He didn’t feel like the sign of change the suffix suggested. He felt rather dull, all things considered.

Although the view from the camp entrance did not allow Scaleripple to see the ocean, he could still hear the waves mix with the song of the morning birds. It was the world’s way of saying, “Hello, new warrior. You might be odd, but we are happy to have you.” It may have just been his own thoughts trying to comfort his strange habits, but it was a comfort nevertheless.

“Guess who gets to sleep!” Lavendertwist poked his head out of camp, beaming. His voice had lost some of the hoarseness from losing his stitches, but it wasn’t back to the bright ringing tone Scaleripple was familiar with.

“I’m not that tired,” Scaleripple noted, surprised at himself.

“The exhaustion will come on later,” Lavendertwist promised. “I was the same way after my vigil!” He sat next to his brother. “Just wanted to let you know before you go to sleep, I’m really proud of you! I know it was probably weird to have your brother as your mentor, especially when I couldn’t complete half of your training, but you turned out fine! You’ll be able to handle whatever comes your way.” Scaleripple dipped his head, warmth filling his chest. “Now, I mean it, go sleep! At least see your new nest.” 

Scaleripple’s tail perked up. He’d grown up with his older siblings telling him about when they came off their vigils and found tiny presents in their new nests. Lavendertwist was lucky; he got a small drum so he could make a beat to the artisans’ performances, singing along. What would Scaleripple’s gift be? 

The new warrior stood, muscles sore from sitting through the night. He followed Lavendertwist back into camp and, with a wave of his tail goodbye, entered the giant warrior’s den. Everyone was up and ready to start the day with the sun, leaving the den an empty field of nests. Well, save for one soul.

“Over here, Scaleripple!” Tempestshade chirped from beside the eastern wall. They kneaded the edge of a fresh nest, eyes sparkling. Scaleripple’s tail lifted higher, and he stepped into the den. His paw touched the soft pelts lining the floor. A painful shiver rattled through him. Oh, wonderful. It had taken him moons to grow used to the pelts of the nursery, then of the apprentice’s den, and how he would have to tolerate the pelts lining the warrior’s den. Yet Tempestshade, unlike so many others, noticed this.

“Hop on the other nests,” they suggested. “I won’t tell.” Tempestshade’s chuckle spurred Scaleripple on. He jumped onto Trumpetspore’s nest, then bounded across Elmsprout and Waspdawn’s nests to get to Tempestshade.

“I asked Rattlepelt if I could help her with your graduation gift,” Tempestshade said. “I hope you like it.” Scaleripple looked down. A small rattle sat amongst the moss and down. Scaleripple took it in his jaws and gently shook it. It wasn’t the loud clatter of many rattles, but something softer, like waves.

“I suggested she fill it with sand,” Tempestshade explained. “I know you tend to hide away during meetings and whatnot, the sound gets to be a lot for you. So, when that happens, you can shake your rattle and focus on the soft sound! It’s just like the ocean, isn’t it?” 

Scaleripple almost wanted to cry. He’d never talked about how peaceful the ocean sounded. He wasn’t much for words, after all. Yet Tempestshade knew. They knew, and Scaleripple didn’t have to explain himself.

“It does,” he said very, very softly, placing the rattle between his paws.

“I’m glad you like it!” Tempestshade cheered. They trotted out, but a moment later backed up into the den. “Uh, I’m glad you don’t leave when you’re alone with me. It… means a lot.” Scaleripple cocked his head. Omen or not, Tempestshade was lovely! Why shouldn’t others be alone with them?

“Alright,” he said. He and Tempestshade couldn’t look away for a while. Eventually Tempestshade licked their chest and hurried out. Scaleripple purred softly and curled up around his new rattle.

It was the best graduation gift ever.

(Scaleripple: 12, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Lavendertwist: 25, male, warrior, playful, great singer, good speaker)

(Tempestshade: 20, nonbinary (they/them), caretaker, childish, incredible cook)

Deeply depressed over the loss of her old friends, Downstar almost lets herself be taken by humans on a walk, but regains her spirit and fights back. The humans kill her in the struggle. While in StarClan, Fennelspot, Rustshade, and Scrubmask encourage her to push on; she still has many moons left to go.

[Image ID: Downstar faces Fennelspot, Rustshade, and Scrubmask. Under Downstar, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING, LIVES LEFT: 5.]

(Downstar: 118, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

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

(Rustshade: 102, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Scrubmask: 76, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

[mommyclaws]

this is a little off topic but i do think the warriors don't have enough recreational activities. they rarely play or claw stuff up or run around for funsies like no wonder they beat the shit out of each other or get so excited to go on little missions and hunts, they're too cooped up with no good releases besides maybe training. doing anything remotely fun is considered kit/apprentice/kittypet behavior. i wish they did more group exercises or play, like the clan olympics squirrelflight put together or more group herb runs for the medcats

Yeah, everything's pretty plot driven in the books. I headcanon/imagine the clans are just very strict societies like that. Apprentices and kits are almost always scolded or scorned at for playing or goofing off even when they're so young. I think playfulness is just something that's hammered out of them as the age. At home you're expected to be useful and working, in front of other clans you're expected to be representing your strength and prosper regardless of if your clan is struggling or not. There's no time for fun in a society that's all about honor...

Doesn't help either that the characters aren't really written to be realistic in animal behavior. Cats are very curious and like to explore, they're distracted easily, and still show play behaviors when they're mature or even elderly.

Personally I think apprentices should get a sort of "recess" period. Like at sunhigh when all of the warriors relax to share tongues, apprentices are relieved of their duties and allowed to play or wander nearby. I'm sure they'd come up with plenty of their own games and activities to do on their own, maybe even convince some of the warriors or elders to join.

[shard-clan]

🏔️MOON 0 - NEWLEAF🏔️

A cold wind still bites at one's pelt. Frost coats the grass in the morning, and melts by sunhigh. The siblings stay close together in the medicine den, where it's warmest, until they can build proper, comfortable dens in the empty hollows of the cave.

Shardstar has been pondering recent dreams he's had. ... Or are they nightmares from the Dark Forest?

These have always plagued him, ever since he and his siblings set out alone. They worsened in Leafbare, when the nights howled with wind and snow, matching the howling in his dreams. Shardstar had hoped, with their new home, and the presence of the crystals ... they would have stopped.

"Something's bothering you." Shadestep says, not a cat to beat around the point. "Tell me."

The is little need to tell her. They've all had nightmares, they all endured the same moons. He shakes his head, rising to his paws. Work has always helped Shardstripe - Shardstar. Work has always kept his head empty, his body busy.

"Don't go out alone today." He orders his sister in lieu of replying to her. "We don't know these caves or this mountain. Take Grackleface."

She watched him with her odd-eyes, saying nothing. Shardstar hoped she wouldn't press the issue, and she didn't. His sister simply tilted her head and left.

... ... Maybe he should have said something. She was the medicine cat now, he the leader. He had to be better. He was entrusted by their mother, and their former clan. I have to be better.

He allowed himself a few moments. Then he'd get up, and hunt until his paws ached and his body was at its limit. Then he'd sleep deeper, and that would stave off the howls.

As the small healer's "patrol" heads out, Grackleface confides in Shadestep about a dream he had the previous night, and what it could mean for their fledgling clan.

A different cat may have laughed at how different her brothers were, but Shadestep was used to this. She expected Shardstar to keep her out, and for Grackleface to immediately spill his worries. There was reassurance in their predictability.

"Tell me about it." She told Grackleface. They were stepping carefully over the rocky cliffs outside the camp. Both sibling's ears lowered and their bodies shivered as a cold wind cut through. In spite of how far up they'd climbed, there were still many places where the ground was grassy and even. Plants were growing, and prey had left scents.

Grackleface was prickling with his emotions. "I don't remember a lot. I was alone, but teeth and claws were around me. Not cats - something else. Maybe coyotes. I had to run, and there was a rocky shelter, with some round yellow things."

"Round yellow things?"

"Flowers? I don't know." Grackleface huffed. "You're the plant cat."

"... Medicine cat. Yes. What did the shelter look like?"

"I don't know. Rocks."

Shadestep held in a sigh. The few times Shardstar told her of his night terrors, he talked too much, getting wrapped up and losing himself in the nightmare all over again. "I would say the fact you were sheltered and in a safe, comfortable place, away from threats, is a good thing. I'm not telling you it's an omen - but I wouldn't worry about it, Grack."

Grackleface bowed his head to her, a grateful gesture that he didn't give easily, and one that she appreciated. He felt privileged, and more at peace, after confiding in her.

They walked in a peaceful silence for some time, the only words were Grackleface's occasional warning about watching her step. Shadestep was beginning to worry it was still too cold for herbs, and this place was too inhospitable for it. Then they came upon an expanse of grass and shrubs.

Now Shadestep gasped. She spotted the dandelions immediately, running to them. "Dandelion! A whole patch of it. It's growing well."

"What about these here?" Grackleface was pawing at some of the tall, soft shrubs.

The medicine cat walked closer to it, and gave a low, short purr. "That's a raspberry bush. Even better. Let's gather these flowers, and come back for that."

The patrol has found raspberry, dandelion and marigold.

[liviavanrouge]

Crowned Princess

???: Did you hear the rumors..

???: The crowned princess has gotten Black Mages under her thumb!

???: They were always so stubborn before!

???: *Laughs* A guard said they came to the princess on their hands and knees!

???: Serves them right! The crowned princess found their secret stash of mage rocks, now they're crawling to her in order to make sure the mine stays hidden!

???: OUR PRINCESS IS THE BEST!!

---

Nilo: Princess, can you tell me-

???: Three thousand two hundred and eight years ago, Halloween Town was ruled by a ruthless king who was struck down by his children...

Nilo: You're getting sassy.....Crowned Princess Livia

Livia(18): Apologies, I noticed it's past the time I usually leave class...besides I've been through all this..

Nilo: *Chuckles and closes his book* King Malleus wants to make sure his heir hasn't forgotten her lessons

Malleus: *Walks in* And my, my, she hasn't forgotten a single one

Livia: Hi Mal!

Lacey: *Walks in carrying her baby and a letter* Princess, you have a letter from Gidel!

Livia: GIDEL?!! *Beams, taking the letter*

Malleus: What does it say?

Livia: He's doing well in school and his writing has gotten better too!

Lacey: That's great!!

Livia: Lacey, tell Isabella to bring me my cloak, I'm gonna drop by for a quick visit!

Malleus: *Clears his throat* Forgetting something are we?

Livia: Aha...and tell Sebek he's to escort me...

Malleus: *Nods, looking approving

Lacey: *Turns and walks out, gently shushing her baby*

Malleus: Be safe...

Livia: Aren't I always? Oh, and when I get back I gotta finish that stuff for the trading we're gonna be doing with the Kingscholar family!

Malleus: *Smiles, walking out of the room with Nilo*

Nilo: Her highness is very smart and wise for her age, she's done so much and grew the Valley

Malleus: She brought it into prosperity, faster than I could've ever done it...

Nilo: She may not be of Draconia blood, but she will become a great Queen when her time comes, you made the right choice crowning her as your heir

Malleus: I did...

---

Livia: *Smiles, waving to the people in the town*

Spot: Hello princess!

Livia: Hey, oh my, you've gotten bigger!

Spot's mother: Yes, he's been eating all his veggies

Livia: That's good!

Kia: Morning princess!

Livia: Morning!

Sebek: *Trails after her, watching people excitedly greet Livia*

Livia: Oh dear! *Waves her hands, regrowing the wilting fruit*

Harrison: Thanks princess, it's getting harder to work with my leg...

Livia: Stop by the Spirit Temple at sunhigh, I shall tend to your leg..

Sebek: Princess, The Drift will be appearing soon

Livia: Yes, let's hurry.. *Waves, hurrying away with Sebek*

Harrison: *Looks at his garden then over at Livia* That's a princess worth fighting for...

[the-night-lily]

She looked like an ember, flared into life by the sunhigh light. Fire alone would save the clan.

Just for a moment for me, just imagine, Princess takes Rusty's place in his story

Just imagine, the newly named Emberpaw having just been freed of her collar

Just for a moment, imagine for me.

[in-memoriam-tgwk]

The Behemoth’s scream nearly pierces Mottledwhisker’s ears as it takes its leave, as slow as always to start moving. He can see Shimmerfeather and Emma cower in response on either side of him, but he stopped fearing the monstrous creature long ago. He stands tall and watches its long segmented body slither away down its wood and metal trail, roaring twice more before the tail fully disappears into the trees.

“I dunno how you stand it,” Shimmerfeather whines, shaking her head vigorously. “Them’s loud enough to make a deaf hare go mad.” She scratches her ear with her hind leg.

Emma hums her agreement, a rare frown forming on her face. “I also do not like the Behemoth. Are you certain they do not stray from their paths, Mottledwhisker? The smaller Monsters traipse through the forest with little care.”

Mottledwhisker nods. “They won’t leave the Thunderpath, I’m sure of it. I’ve never seen them hunt anywhere else. Come on, let’s get moving.”

It’s taken quite a few moons for Mottledwhisker to notice, but taking time to watch the Behemoth’s ritualistic patrolling, as well as leaning on his memory of living inside its belly, has made the Thunderpath relatively safe in terms of learning when best to cross it. Knowing when and how often it will appear has shaped the Colony’s patrols around its schedule, shifting from morning and evening patrols into sunhigh, evening, and moonhigh. In turn, he’s come to discover that while the Behemoth’s cries and blundering steps scare prey in all directions, it doesn’t take too long for the prey to wander back to their nearby burrows. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s one Mottledwhisker is aiming to perfect.

He leads the other two members of his patrol across the Thunderpath, leaping over each metal beam to avoid the lingering heat, trotting across loose gravel and rock before meeting the piney forest floor on the other side. Emma appears just after, with Shimmerfeather bringing up the rear.

“I been meanin’ to ask ya,” the oddly-colored molly calls, picking up extra steps to match Mottledwhisker’s in stride, “how come ya know so much ‘bout them creatures? I been ‘round seasons afore yer speckled face was whinin’ for yer mama’s milk, and I never even saw one when I’s livin’ in the Fallow Land.”

Mottledwhisker smiles, steering them around a fallen log before replying, “Well, it’s like how you know about the strange Monsters your old Twolegs use to tear up the dirt. I used to live in one, when I was a kit.”

Shimmerfeather snorts, her whiskers twitching in amusement. “No way ya did!” she says. “You’d be deader than dead sittin’ in the belly of one of them beasts!”

“He tells the truth,” Emma offers, appearing on Mottledwhisker’s other side. Her puffy tail arches over her back and swipes across his neck, sending an involuntary twitch down his spine. “I have met cats with a similar strip of leather bound around their throats. They hunt the mice that stow away within its body.”

Mottledwhisker whips his head around at her in shock. “You’ve met other cats like me? Why haven’t you said so before?”

Emma tilts her head to one side. “You have not asked,” she says simply.

Frustratingly, she’s not exactly wrong. He’ll have to ask her more about that when they return to camp.

“You serious then?” Shimmerfeather asks, her eyes as wide as two azure full moons. “Ya used to live in a Behemoth?”

The trees grow a little sparse up ahead, so Mottledwhisker turns where he knows will lead to their target. “I did, yeah. Like Emma says, I filled my belly on mice and other prey that would sneak on with the Twolegs that rode inside. If I did a good enough job, sometimes the Boss would give me special things like cream or scraps from their meals.”

“Ugh, that’s somethin’ I miss,” the molly moans, her ears drooping. “The Farmer used to leave the cow’s cream in a tin for all us mousers to drink just afore bed… Ya ever had cow’s cream, Emma? ‘S a magical thing.”

Emma chuckles softly, the sound nearly swallowed up by their steps. “I have not, actually. Most Twoleg foods do not smell appealing to me… What is it like?”

As Shimmerfeather goes on to excitedly explain the wonders of fresh cow’s cream, Mottledwhisker sets his attention on the small clearing coming into view ahead. It’s a space left in disarray by the Twolegs and the growling Monsters they carried around, with tree litter and various alien objects lying among multiple felled trees, now drying stumps in Greenleaf heat. He had wanted to make sure they were no longer camping here before investigating, and it seems to be as untouched as it was days prior. He lifts his tail over his back, and Shimmerfeather’s musings fall silent.

“Be careful here,” he reminds them, glancing back to make sure both cats are watching him. “The Monsters these Twolegs trained are incredibly dangerous. Keep your ears trained for any unusual noises.”

Both cats nod, and he drops his tail.

Silently, Mottledwhisker slinks out from the tree line, his ears on a constant swivel as he surveys the clearing. He steps carefully over broken tree branches, discarded pine boughs, shattered glass and shiny metal tins, long tendrils not too dissimilar to what Ferretpaw and Sablepaw wear on their bark sleds… He sniffs the air and the ground for any scents still hanging around, and his shoulders relax when he finds nothing fresher than he expects. He maneuvers around the space with less tension after that.

“Ya weren’t kiddin’,” Shimmerfeather calls, standing on top of a larger stump across the clearing. “There’s nothin’ left of these trees here. How hungry can a little critter like that be?”

“It wasn’t just one,” Mottledwhisker says. He frowns at the sheer amount of stumps in the vicinity; too many to count just from where he sits. “The Twolegs had entire packs of them chewing at their trunks. The large Monsters carried the rest of the trees away when they fell.”

Emma paws at something resembling a common Twoleg pelt, lifting it up to peek underneath before dropping it. “I do not like it here,” she says. “There is no food here, nor herb. I cannot see anything of use.”

In addition, the regular chirps and trills of the forest waking at sundown are far more distant from where they stand than before. It’s strange to hear near silence in a place that is always teeming with life. Admittedly, Mottledwhisker has never felt further from Fate’s blessings than in a place like this. Not since his arrival.

“Well,” he says eventually, squaring his shoulders, “we can safely assume the Twolegs won’t be coming here, considering how old the scents are. I think telling Glowstar—“ he pauses, catching himself momentarily. “I think telling Amberfuzz is a must. We should make sure other patrols check at least once a day, just to be certain they haven’t returned under our noses. Let’s continue on.”

Leaving the abandoned camp behind, the patrol continues on towards the southern-most border the Colony lays claim to, where it butts up along the Fallow Lands Shimmerfeather hails from. Mottledwhisker lets Shimmerfeather take the lead, and falls back to walk a few paces behind with Emma.

“How long did Glowstar say he would be gone for?” he asks.

Emma side eyes him. If she’s concerned, her face betrays nothing. “He did not say an exact amount of time, although I imagine he should arrive any day.”

“Did he tell you where he was going, or why? It’s strange for him to just up and leave like that. Even Oaktrail seemed confused about it.”

Emma trains her eyes ahead, but her ears remain trained on Mottledwhisker. “This is something you should ask Glowstar when he returns,” she says. “It is not my place to say.”

“Alright… I will always trust your judgement, Emma. I…” He thinks over his words for a moment. “I’m just worried about him is all. He hasn’t been the same since… You know. We can all tell.”

Emma hums thoughtfully. “Yes, that is true. Grief is a powerful thing; it warps the mind and scars the heart terribly, and it does so differently in everyone.” She looks back at Mottledwhisker, and her warm smile appears with ease. “Do not fret Mottledwhisker; he will soon learn to work with those scars instead of against. His heart simply carries more scars than he admits to.”

Not an entirely satisfying answer but it’s enough to end his prodding. He recovers the lead from Shimmerfeather, and they finish their patrol with little issue.

[talonslockau]

Forest of Secrets - Chapter 42

Chapter 41 || Index || Chapter 43

Fireheart sat beneath the Highrock, watching as the rest of the Clan huddled beneath various trees and shrubs. Rain drizzled down from the sky, drenching the earth below. Even though it was close to sunhigh, the sky was still dark from the storm clouds hanging overhead, making it feel as though it was close to dusk. If it were bright daylight, the camp would be chattering as the Clan settled down to share tongues, but now most cats were focusing on huddling together and doing their best to keep dry. It made the camp feel dark and moody, as though something bad was going to happen, but he tried to keep his thoughts light as he sat there.

“Fireheart!” He startled as he heard his name called with an uncomfortable urgency, looking up to see Peppermask pelting into camp. He stood up immediately, a bolt of panic firing through him. She had been on the Riverclan border patrol. Why had she come back so late? 

“Peppermask! Where’s the rest of your patrol? Has something happened?” He felt fear rising in his throat at the thought of a Riverclan attack. Crookedstar hadn’t been belligerent at the last Gathering; why would he suddenly change tactics? Unless Graystripe had broken his promise… he shot a brief glare over to where the tom was sitting alone by the prison, one of the few spots sheltered by a tree within camp.

She blinked in surprise at his questions. “What? No, they were just-” She turned around to look behind her, just as Whitestorm’s snowy pelt emerged from the bramble tunnel. He breathed a sigh of relief as Sandstorm and Brightpaw followed the mighty warrior. “No, Fireheart, listen. The river breached its banks. It’s flooded so badly, it…”

“I haven’t seen it this bad in all my moons.” Whitestorm came to stand beside Peppermask, his brows furrowed as he spoke. “All of Riverclan’s land has been flooded, and many of our own border markers are underwater. We did what we could to mark what remains, but there wasn’t much.”

For a brief moment, he thought of Mistyskip, Graypool, and Silverstream. Was Riverclan alright? He cursed himself slightly for wondering. They were enemy warriors, and not his problem to deal with. And yet… “How much of our land is affected? Do you think our camp is in danger from the flooding?”

“The roots of the Owltree are submerged. There’s no way to reach the log bridge to the Gathering - if the waters haven’t already floated it away.” Peppermask reported grimly, her tail rattling nervously. “The flood waters haven’t reached that far up the stream that leads to camp, but if the water keeps rising, it could only be a matter of time.”

Whitestorm nodded beside her. “I would suggest a sentry be posted at the end of the ravine, where the stream starts to make its way to the river. If the flood waters start to make their way up to here, we’ll need time to evacuate.” 

Fireheart dipped his head. “That’s a good idea. As long as the rain continues, the waters will only keep rising.” He surveyed camp, looking for a suitable candidate for the first shift. “Dustleap! Come here for a moment, please.”

The brown tabby looked up from where he was huddling with Longtail, a brief distaste crossing his face before he diligently padded out to meet the deputy. “Yes, Fireheart?” He asked, a note of anger in his voice even as he dipped his head meekly in greeting.

“The river has flooded, and I’m concerned about the flood making its way to camp. We’ll need sentries posted to watch the waters and alert camp if it looks like the water will enter the ravine. Can you and Brackenpaw take the first shift? Find somewhere dry, up around the clearing at the end of the ravine.” He glanced to where the apprentices were sitting, doing their best to huddle under a small oak tree behind their den. He didn’t say it - didn’t want to say it - but even though the end of the ravine was only a few tree-lengths away, he feared for the safety of any cat sitting outside camp right now alone. No cat knew where Tigerclaw had gone, and that felt dangerous in and of itself.

Dustleap’s whiskers twitched as he considered it. “Of course, Fireheart. How long do you want us out there?” He asked calmly, flicking his ear irritably as a water droplet fell on it.

“Until dusk. I’ll send someone out to relieve you two then.” He flicked his tail to the fresh-kill pile, as soaked as it currently was. “Make sure to take some prey with you, as well. I doubt you’ll get a chance to eat until after you return.”

The dark tabby lowered his head in courtesy once more. “Thank you, Fireheart. We’ll keep a close watch.” With that, he quickly grabbed a squirrel and headed across camp to tell his apprentice their new assignment.

“What about you, Fireheart?” Whitestorm asked softly. “Do you want to call the Clan together and tell them what has happened?”

He hesitated and shook his head. “Not yet. I want to see the extent of the flooding for myself, first.” Fireheart flicked his tail at Peppermask. “Peppermask, why don’t you come and show me?”

His friend’s eyes widened briefly, but she nodded assent all the same. “Alright. We can try and catch some prey on the way back, if it hasn’t already drowned in the flood waters.” 

The two waved farewell to the senior warrior as they padded to the bramble entrance. “Fireheart!” Another voice called before they could leave. The two turned curiously to see who was calling. It was Graystripe, trotting hurriedly across camp towards them.

“Yes, Graystripe?” Fireheart did his best not to growl at the sight of his former friend. The large gray tom had been meek and compliant, staying out of his way ever since the night Fireheart had become deputy. This was the first time they had actually spoken since then, and he imagined he already knew why.

“Look, I- I heard Dustleap talking to Brackenpaw. You’re heading out to check the flooding, right? Do you- is it alright if I come with?” Graystripe’s yellow eyes were wide and pleading as he asked - begged, really - to join their patrol.

Fireheart felt his claws unsheathe slightly as the other tom spoke, his first instinct to tell the warrior to get out of his sight. But some part of him reconsidered. While Graystripe had been good and kept his head down, he had no doubt that the tom would immediately strike out to see the flooding on his own accord, even if Fireheart didn’t let him. Graystripe had been behaving, as well, keeping to camp more often in the past moon than he had the season before. Plus, the flood affected him, just like it did every other member of the Clan - if any other cat wanted to observe the floods, he would let them, so long as they were accompanied. It felt unfair to hold Graystripe to higher standards. “Alright. But if you so much as-”

“I won’t!” The repentant warrior crouched in grateful submission. “I’ll keep all my paws on our side of the border, and I won’t mew even a word to any Riverclanner without your permission. I just- I have to know-” He trailed off as he stood back up, the worry on his face saying more than he ever could.

“Good. Come on, then.” He nodded to Dustleap and Brackenpaw as the two approached, and the five cats left camp together, splitting up as they crossed the ravine for their respective patrols. As soon as they reached the stream that fed through the forest into the river, Fireheart could already see the issue - the stream was swollen to three times the size of what it usually was, bubbling lazily as it flowed slowly onwards.

The three young Thunderclanners followed it as it meandered through the forest, slowly swelling more and more the closer they came to the river. At last, Peppermask came to a halt and held her tail out to stop the other two. “We’re close to the Owltree, now. The water won’t be much further out.”

They padded forward cautiously, ignoring the rain falling on their fur. Normally the banks of the river were still many tree-lengths away, the entire area primarily scrubland and tall grasses, but he was willing to take Peppermask at her word. The air was beginning to brighten as they approached the edge of the treeline, with less foliage to shield them from the storm above. They didn’t let that stop them, instead cautiously poking through the last of the bracken to see beyond.

“Great Starclan.” He heard Graystripe whisper in astonishment. They were standing on the edge of a small cliff, but were less than a tail-length from the top of the flood waters. Before the flood, he would expect to see the marshy fields of Riverclan territory on the other side, but now there was no land - only water. And the waters themselves - instead of the rippling, clear water of the river he knew, there was just a blank expanse of dark, muddy depths that seemed almost frozen in place as the warriors stood there. 

“Is it even moving?” He wondered aloud, to which the other two shrugged at him. Looking around, he spied a small fallen branch, likely broken in one of the recent storms. Delicately grabbing it with his teeth, he gestured for the two to stand back before throwing it as far as he could into the flood waters below. The branch floated lazily away as the three of them looked on.

“I- Silverstream-” Graystripe paused, glancing guiltily at Fireheart, who only narrowed his eyes and gestured for the other tom to continue. “She said that the river floods whenever newleaf comes, and that they can’t hunt on the lands for a quarter-moon until it subsides. But she never - I don’t think she mentioned anything like this…”

“Riverclan’s not our problem.” Peppermask mewed, saying what he was thinking to himself. “But the flood is. Look at all that territory - those are good hunting grounds that the river has swallowed up. Who knows what state it will be in, after the water’s gone.”

Fireheart nodded as he pondered the situation. “We can’t have any cats falling in. I think… Peppermask, do you think Riverclan will take advantage of this?”

“Do you think we shouldn’t patrol the borders?” She replied, considering him with thoughtful green eyes. “I think Riverclan’s going to be too busy dealing with this to really bother us. But we should still have a daily patrol anyways, to see when the flood starts subsiding, or if…” She trailed off, glancing behind her, and he knew what she was thinking. What if the flood spread through the whole forest? Was such a thing even possible?

“That’s a good idea.” Fireheart mewed, sitting down and nodding to himself. “We’ll only have the late day border patrol, then, at least until the flood waters go down some. And only warriors, as well - cats that are strong enough to swim by themselves, without help.”

“I think that’s for-” Peppermask paused, raising her head and perking her ears as a frown crossed her face. “What’s that sound?”

The other two quieted, straining to hear what she was talking about. Not even the river was making noise; only the rain hitting the leaves above them, or the birds grumpily chirping about the miserable weather. For a moment, he thought perhaps she was thinking about hunting, but then he heard it; the faintest wailing.

“I hear it too.” The ginger deputy replied with a frown. What could be making that sound? “Maybe it’s the wind?” He suggested after a moment.

“Maybe.” Peppermask responded hesitantly, but her ears were still focused on the direction the sound was coming from, which seemed to be somewhere upstream. They were silent for another few heartbeats before she shook her head. “No, it’s getting louder. It- If I didn’t know better, it sounds like-”

She cut off, holding her breath, and Fireheart could feel himself do the same. The wailing was getting louder and louder; only heartbeats later, he realized he could make out words. “Mom! Dad! Anyone! Help us!” 

“That’s kits.” Graystripe gasped in horror. “Fireheart, where- what do-”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his question as something large rounded the bend in the river in front of them. His heart felt as though it skipped a beat as he realized what he was looking at - three kits were floating towards them on a broken branch, clinging desperately to it. They were young - two to three moons old, if he had to guess - and screaming their heads off. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?” He could hear one yowl over the rest.

The other two warriors looked instinctively to him, even as he felt frozen in place. “I- We can’t swim.” He glanced questioningly to Graystripe beside him, wondering if perhaps his time with Silverstream had taught him how, but the gray tom shook his head. “Maybe we could go fetch a Riverclanner? Surely they can’t be far, if-”

They all gasped as they saw the branch the three kits were on suddenly shudder and stop, as though it had hit something. Then it broke apart, and they plunged into the river.

“Fireheart- What are you-?” He didn’t even know why Peppermask was yowling until he felt a shock of cold all around him. He had jumped into the river, and was now kicking determinedly to keep himself afloat and swim towards where the kits had been. “Starclan above, I-”

He didn’t know what had caused her to stop talking until he heard one splash, then another, behind him. Though he didn’t stop to look, he already knew what had happened - his friends had thrown themselves into the waters to help. And while the water seemed almost deceptively still on the surface, he could feel the current pulling at him, threatening to tear him away. 

The kits bobbed up and down in the water as it pulled them, trying to keep their heads afloat, but they were still small - almost the same age as his niblings, he couldn’t help but think. They were too young to have learned to swim yet, and their muscles had barely developed. If he didn’t make it to them soon, he-

Horror seized him as one of them dipped below the water, coming up a moment later with a ragged gasp. He propelled himself towards it, reaching out and clenching it in his jaws. It tasted disgusting, like rancid fish and mud, but he didn’t let that stop him as he struggled to turn towards the shore. Gratefulness surged through him as he saw the two other Thunderclanners on his tail, drifting by him to snag the other two kits.

Now was the most difficult part - getting back to the shore. Already his limbs felt tired, and now he had an extra weight as well. But he couldn’t let himself stop now - if he did, then both he and the kit he was holding would drown. He lashed out, beating at the water with frantic paws as he tried to swim towards dry land.

The current felt as though it was trying to push him away from the shore, and each stroke he made seemed as though it wasn’t making any progress. He could see the shoreline moving in front of him as the floodwaters carried them downstream, and he tried not to let panic surge through him. He could make it. He would make it-

Relief washed over him as he felt something scrabble beneath his front paws, and with another kick he found himself on solid ground.The current still tugged at him, threatening to bowl him over, but he trudged forward with determination until at last he felt his paws rise out of the water and onto dry land.

He nearly fell to the ground, limp and exhausted, but forced himself to drop the kit and turn to see if his friends needed help. They had also managed to find the same shallow section of water, and clambered out alongside him. Once he was sure they were all safe, he allowed his legs to buckle and fall to the ground, shivering and shaking from the near death experience that they had all just gone through.

The kits huddled together as they stared, wide-eyed, at the three warriors in front of them. The largest of them was a dark gray tabby tom, while the other two were a pale gray and a little brown and ginger tabby. The river had washed away whatever Clan-scent they might have carried - all he knew for sure was that they weren’t Thunderclan, as only his niblings remained in the nursery.

“What are your names?” Peppermask finally asked. The three looked at her with the same silent stare that they had regarded him with, refusing to answer. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a small sigh before straightening up again. “I’m sorry, it’s rude of me to ask your names without giving you ours. My name is Peppermask; this is my brother, Graystripe, and my friend, Fireheart.”

The three kits stared unblinkingly at her, and Fireheart wondered if perhaps they were mute, or deaf like Snowkit. “I’m Aspenkit.” The largest of the kits finally mewed, to his relief. “And these are my sisters, Dawnkit and Robinkit.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Aspenkit.” The gray tabby molly purred, though her voice was weak from exhaustion. Fireheart purred wordlessly beside her, grateful that at the very least, they had names for the kits - and that they seemed to be Clanborn, as well. That meant that they had a Clan they could be returned to. “You were calling for your Mom and Dad, weren’t you? Do you know their names?”

The three kits quickly conferred with each other. “The other queens call Mom Ivy… Ivystep?” Robinkit mumbled aloud.

“No, I think it’s Ivykit.” Dawnkit corrected her sister confidently.

“Is not! Mom’s not a kit!” Robinkit huffed, her little tail lashing angrily.

“You’re both wrong.” Aspenkit interjected with his own self-important authority.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s her name, know-it-all?” Dawnkit asked, the two little mollies glaring at their brother.

“I don’t-”

“I think they might be talking about Ivyskip.” Fireheart was grateful to hear Peppermask speak up before the three kits could get into a full blown fight over it. “She’s one of the Riverclan queens. I think Lilystem - that’s one of the other Riverclan queens - mentioned something about her having had kits with Frogleap a couple moons ago. But - I don’t understand. Riverclan camp is downstream from here. How did you three get all the way up here? Did Riverclan retreat to the moors, because of the flooding?”

The three lowered their heads shamefully at her question. “It’s my fault.” Aspenkit mumbled at last. “The warriors were talking so much about the gorge, how big and dangerous it was right now, and I wanted to see it for myself ‘cause I didn’t believe them. Dawnkit and Robinkit followed me. But then when we were coming back, it started raining, so we hid in a willow tree, but the waters just kept getting higher and higher and then Dawnkit fell in so we tried to rescue her and-”

“Shh, that’s enough.” Peppermask leaned out to lap the kit’s forehead reassuringly. “What matters right now is that you’re all safe. Is it just the three of you? Did you have any other siblings?”

The three shook their heads in tandem. “No. It’s only the three of us in the nursery right now. Mom says that’ll change when Silverstream has her kits, but-”

Fireheart could see Graystripe’s eyes glittering at the mention of Silverstream’s kits - his kits - and forced himself not to let his lip curl or his claws unsheathe. “That’s good, then.” He mewed quickly. “We don’t have to worry about rescuing any other kits. We just have to get these three back to their mother.” With a deep sigh, he glanced at Graystripe. “Where do you think Riverclan would be right now?”

The large tom hesitated. “I’m not sure. I know their camp is close to the river, so it’s probably been flooded. If they knew the flood was coming, they might have had time to get to the moors, or to Fourtrees, but-”

“The flood was so sudden. It wasn’t like this even last night. I don’t think they would have had the time to evacuate so far away.” Peppermask interrupted, her green eyes narrowed as she considered the question. “Maybe they’re at Sunningrocks? The elders’ tales say it used to be flooded, long ago, and that only Riverclan cats could get to them. That probably means that they’re taller than most of the flood waters, and we know that they’re close to Riverclan’s camp.”

“Wait, you aren’t Riverclan?” Aspenkit squeaked, his kit-blue eyes narrowing as he regarded them suspiciously. “But only Riverclan cats can swim!”

Fireheart sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re from Thunderclan.” 

The two mollies backed up as he spoke, but Aspenkit held fast and continued to glare at them. “But you’re not scary at all.” The little tomkit announced, his little tail lashing confidently. “Thunderclan warriors are supposed to be super huge, and only able to come out of the forest at night! That’s what Grampa Cedarpelt told us, and he’s super wise.” 

“That’s actually a myth. We’re able to come out of the woods when the sun isn’t in the sky… like right now.” Graystripe purred, getting up and stalking closer to the three kits. The two mollies shrieked, and even Aspenkit backed up a few tiny pawsteps. “And once we do, we love eating little Riverclan kits as snacks…”

“You stop that!” Peppermask huffed and smacked her brother with her tail, though even she couldn’t hide the smirk on her face as she did so. “Thunderclan cats are ordinary cats, just like any Riverclanner. And while we might not like to swim, we still can…” She considered them with a soft gaze - the same one she used whenever she watched Princess’ kits. “You kits are old enough to have learned some of the code, right? Do you know what it says about kits?”

“We get to be fed first!” Aspenkit yowled eagerly, having clearly forgotten his fear of them in his desire to be right.

“We have to be six moons old before we become apprentices?” Robinkit wondered aloud, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Peppermask purred warmly at the two of them. “You’re both right, but those aren’t the parts of the code I’m thinking of.” She focused on Dawnkit, who was hiding behind her brother. “What about you, Dawnkit? Can you tell me?”

She stared at Peppermask with wide, fearful blue eyes. “I-” She glanced at her siblings, who were clearly not afraid of the Thunderclan cats like she was, and stepped out from behind Aspenkit. “The- the code says you can’t hurt kits, no matter where they come from. That’s why you saved us, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Fireheart affirmed to the small, shy gray kit. “It is the duty of a warrior to protect all kits, regardless of Clan. We might be Thunderclan, but we wouldn’t be warriors if we allowed you to drown. We follow the code, always, and that means we’ll get you safely to your parents. I promise.”

He could see that his reassurance had comforted Dawnkit, if only a little bit. “Okay.” She mumbled at last.

“Will you allow us to carry you?” Peppermask asked the three kits gently. “Sunningrocks - if that is where your Clan is - is a long way from here. It will be faster if we can carry you - and safer for you, as well.”

Robinkit and Aspenkit immediately nodded their assent, but Dawnkit looked doubtful. “But what if they’re not there?” She asked Peppermask in a small voice.

The tabby molly’s shoulders slumped, but she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t at the forefront of all of their minds. “I… I guess you’d have to stay in our camp, for now. If they’re not at Sunningrocks, then they must have made it to the highlands, and there’s no way to reach those without crossing the river. And with the river as flooded as it is, I don’t think there’s any way to cross.” She sighed and dipped her head, seeing the trepidation in the kits’ eyes at her words. “It will only be for a half-moon, at most. If we can’t reunite you today, then we’ll bring you to the Gathering and give you to Riverclan then. But we’ll see them at Sunningrocks, I’m sure of it.”

Though her voice sounded confident and upbeat, Fireheart could tell she didn’t believe her own words. Luckily, the kits didn’t seem to notice. “Come on, Dawnkit! Stop worrying so much! Warriors always know what they’re doing!” Aspenkit purred, giving his sister a hearty nudge that almost sent her tumbling over.

“I… Alright.” Dawnkit mewed at last, before rushing over and wrapping herself around Peppermask’s paws. “But I want this one to carry me!”

“That’s fine.” Fireheart purred readily. Peppermask was the softest touch, in any case, and Dawnkit seemed the most fragile - he wouldn’t have made a different choice. “Graystripe, why don’t you take Aspenkit, and I’ll carry Robinkit?”

The other tom nodded and stepped forward to carry his charge, while the ginger deputy did the same. Though his fur still clung to him, sopping wet, he tried not to focus on it as he bounded off into the forest, the other warriors following behind him. It would be fastest to go along the river bank, but he didn’t want to risk any of them falling in again. It also gave him more time to prepare for whatever they might find at Sunningrocks - good or bad.

[plushieclan]

Prologue part 1

TW: Blood, kit death

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

Darkheart stopped.

“Leafpelt. Look.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leafpelt did not share her mate’s enthusiasm.

-

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

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

“So soon?”

“A clan… needs a leader.” he choked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Come with me.” Darkheart said.

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

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

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

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

“R-Rainfeather?!” Leafpelt cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leafpelt stopped. “What… do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What? But I’m not becoming leader?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two toms perked up.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh Nightkit, she thought. Please come back home.

[quillpokebiology]

Espeon Facts

@captainfalcon03 asked me to do this, but I accidently deleted the post. But this is an awnser to their ask!

-The scientific name for Espeon is "Alter vulpes sol" which means "other sun fox"

-Espeon is known as "The Sun Pokemon," because they get their psychic energy from the sun. Many ancient cultures also took inspiration from their sun bathing techniques to gain psychic abilities themselves

-The fur on espeon's ears droop and become thinner the older they get

-Because their fur is very sensitive to it's surroundings, espeon don't have a great sense of smell

-The gem on their head doesn't apply to any gems you can find in nature. But it mostly resembles either ruby, red eudialyte, red jasper, garnet, or red coral

-Espeons can have slightly different fur coloring and body types depending on the time of day they evolved. Dawn espeon are usually shorter and have darker fur, sunhigh or Noon espeon have lighter fur and are the most common (the ones you see on the pokedex), and sunset espeon have a purplish/pinkish color scheme and have ears the point slightly more downward

-Because wild espeon are so rare, researchers often put tracking devices on the ones they do find. There's actually a website that allows you to see the footage of wild espeon and where they go

-When angered, their eyes begin to glow instead of their orbs. The orbs only glow when using their psychic abilities

-The inside of espeons ears can be either purple or blue

-Espeons are common for illegal poaching, as the gem is very valuable (it gives psychic abilities to the pokemon that holds it. Don't poach espeon)

-Espeons are great for beginner trainers as they mostly like to relax and are fine just cuddling up to their trainers

-Like leafeon, espeon needs to sun a lot. Most in the wild prefer to sun in an open clearing or field, but in the house, they're fine with finding a window and sitting by that to get sunlight

-Lack of sunlight can cause espeon to get grumpy and irritable, so they're usually the most grouchy during cloudy or rainy days

-Espeon are related to the meowstic line. The eevee line, in general, are actually related to a lot of pokemon, and I might have to do an entire post on that

-Espeon in the wild tend to better care for young eevee, as they can foresee ant danger that might come to them, and can easily find ways to avoid it

-Espeon in Alola tend to be more powerful, as they get lots of sunlight

-Ancient civilizations in the Asado deserts of Paldea Worshipped espeon, almost like gods

(Ooc: plz give us an Egyptian pokemon region)

-While espeon don't have many natural predators, they often get into fights with sableye as sableye often try to steal their gems

[velvetvexations]

WCanon here, god i wish the erins knew how to write. The ideas that they forgot, put in books then got rid of in that book(looking at windclan tunnels) or just things they put as extra fun facts are SO INTERESTING. like, riverclan having dens that float???? windclan being closer to the sky therefore to god????? even just sharing tongues at sunhigh bring them back i beg of you

(i havent read the newest arc with a riverclan main character so they might have added that but ive heard its about a murder mystery so i doubt it)

they sound like they should write manga honestly