#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

[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.

[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.

[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

[creampuffqueen]

The SkyClan Spies - Birthday Fic Bash

Requested from @cowcowwow Shadowsight, Needleclaw, and Rootspring playing with Birchkit. Hope you enjoy!

~~~~

After Puddleshine tripped over Birchkit for the third time, Shadowsight knew it was time to intervene. His mentor is usually a patient cat, but sorting herbs and entertaining kits don’t mix too well. 

“Birchkit, maybe it’s time to go back to the nursery for a bit,” The older tomcat suggests. His little brother’s whiskers droop.

“But the nursery is boring! Cinnomontail’s kits still take two naps during the day and Dovewing doesn’t like it when I play rough with them but those are my favorite games and I’m only trying to make them tough warriors like Lightleap and Tigerstar and -”

“Shadowsight won’t mind playing with you,” Puddleshine suggests, giving him a look that means don’t argue. 

Shadowsight argues anyway. “But we’re not finished sorting!”

“I can handle it just fine,” the brown and white tom replies. “Go play with your little brother.” The unspoken words are even clearer. Get him out of my medicine den.

Battle lost, the gray tomcat leads the overexcited kit out of the den and into the clearing. He adores Birchkit, he really does, but hates feeling excluded from his job. It’s happened enough already.

Out in the main ShadowClan camp, Birchkit’s little pink nose twitches. “Ew, what’s that smell, Shadowsight?”

Two pairs of eyes land on them, just as Shadowsight realizes what the scent is. SkyClan. Oh no.

However, before he can tell Birchkit to keep rude thoughts to himself, he suddenly recognizes the newcomers. 

“Rootspring! Needleclaw! What are you two doing here?”

“Apparently smelling gross,” Needleclaw replies wryly. She and her brother move closer to each touch noses with Shadowsight, who feels his pelt warming with happiness at the sight of his two friends. Despite Needleclaw’s sarcasm, she clearly holds no ill will towards the kit, who watches the interaction with a confused tilt of his head. 

“Leafstar sent us to get a message from Tigerstar.” Rootspring explains. “He said he’d have some information about RiverClan to give her today.”

Shadowsight glances up at the sky. It isn’t quite sunhigh, the time Tigerstar is due back from the RiverClan camp. “You’re a bit early.”

“Leafstar likes to have all the information at her paws as quickly as possible.” Needleclaw replies.

“We don’t mind waiting,” Rootspring adds nonchalantly, sitting down and drawing a paw over his ear.

Birchkit, who has been silent since his earlier comment, carefully peers out from behind Shadowsight’s large frame. “Are SkyClan cats allowed to stay in camp?”

Shadowsight curls his fluffy tail around the kit, offering him some reassurance. “They are. Rootspring and Needleclaw are good friends of mine, Birchkit.”

Emboldened by his older brother’s words, Birchkit steps away from Shadowsight’s tail, sniffing the air again. “I still think they smell weird.”

Rootspring chuckles. “Well, you all smell a bit weird to us. It just depends on which Clan you’re from.”

Birchkit’s eyes widen as he takes in this new information, his little mind blown. 

While Birchkit recovers from this world shattering idea, Shadowsight settles himself between his two friends, touching noses with each of them again. “It’s good to see you both. How have you been?”

But before either warrior can answer, a tiny tan blur attaches itself to Shadowsight’s tail, needle-sharp teeth and claws digging in. The gray medicine cat hisses and leaps up, dragging Birchkit with him as the kit ferociously attacks his tail.

“Birchkit, too hard!”

Birchkit continues to pummel his tail with tiny paws, though he does sheathe his claws, at least. “Puddleshine told you to play with me! You can’t just talk with your friends!”

The kitten chomps down on his tail again, shaking his head back and forth. Shadowsight is about to bat him away, but before he can even move Rootspring is leaning in, snagging the rambunctious kit by his scruff and pulling him away. 

“Woah there, little warrior! How about a different game instead?”

“But I was already playing a game! Shadowsight’s tail looks like a mouse!”

“My game is way more fun than that.”

Birchkit’s eyes widen in delight. “More fun?”

Rootspring’s muzzle curls in a devious grin. “Absolutely. To play my game, you have to catch Needleclaw.”

His black and white sister jolts upright. “Hey, I didn’t agree to this -”

Too late. Birchkit leaps away, scrambling towards Needleclaw like a tiny bolt of lightning. The SkyClan warrior dashes away, tail streaming behind her. 

Birchkit keeps hot on her heels, bouncing and mewing with excitement. “I’m gonna catch you, SkyClan spy!”

Unfortunately for Needleclaw, Birchkit proves himself right only a few seconds later, cornering her between two dens and pouncing. Shadowsight and Rootspring both laugh at the she-cat’s dismay at being taken down by a kit as Birchkit tackles her to the ground.

“I won!”

Needleclaw, however, is a quick thinker. “No you didn’t! You don’t win until you take down both SkyClan spies!” Birchkit’s gaze turns to lock onto Rootspring.

“Oh no,” Rootspring groans.

Shadowsight nudges the warrior with his shoulder, purring with amusement. “I’d start running if I was you.”

Rootspring takes him up on his suggestion.

The yellow tomcat outruns Birchkit for a bit, weaving between dens and dodging other warriors in the clearing, but his escape attempt soon turns futile. Birchkit makes a rather impressive leap, landing squarely on Rootspring’s shoulders, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Now you’ve won!” Shadowsight declares with a grin. Birchkit preens under the praise, keeping Rootspring pinned in the dirt.

“You thought you were safe?” Rootspring teases. “Birchkit, Shadowsight’s been turned into a SkyClan spy as well!”

“Traitor!” Shadowsight yelps, not wasting a moment. Birchkit uses Rootspring’s back as a launchpad, springing into action to chase his older brother through the camp. 

More familiar with the area, Shadowsight is able to evade him for a while, but he’s a medicine cat, not a warrior. His stamina has limits. His little brother’s does not.

Birchkit cuts off his path from the side, whiskers twitching in utter delight at the game. “You can’t escape me forever, SkyClan spy!”

“You’ve caught me! I surrender!” Shadowsight replies, hoping to avoid the tackling bit of the game. Birchkit is begging to get large enough that his takedowns are painful.

Birchkit, of course, does not grant him this luxury. He slams into Shadowsight’s side, yowling in triumph. They both roll through the dirt, the kitten battering his paws on his brother’s stomach until they come to a stop, both panting.

Thinking quickly, Shadowsight calls out, “You’ll never be rid of the spies! Look, they’re getting up!”

Birchkit takes the bait, abandoning Shadowsight to chase after the two visiting SkyClan warriors once more. Needleclaw and Rootspring play along, doing their best to evade.

Shadowsight, free of the lump of fur pressing on his chest, sits up once more, shaking the dirt from his long fur and grooming his ears. Needleclaw and Rootspring have gotten Birchkit into a back and forth tag game, sending him from one littermate to the other over and over again.

A purr rumbles from Shadowsight’s chest. Turns out entertaining his younger brother isn’t so hard, not when he has friends around. 

[taleofturtleclan]

MOON 13

“...and so, it sounds a lot to me like the cats who attacked her are the same ones that killed Margo and drove me out,” Brokenmast concluded.

“Thank you, Brokenmast,” Shellstar replied calmly. Internally she wanted to wail. An unknown, aggressive group of cats was the last thing the burgeoning TurtleClan needed to deal with right now, so soon after leafbare. Pearl might have honored them with the title of “warriors”, but the truth was that all of them were more hunters than fighters. She knew that Currentheart and Sandtail had encouraged the other cats to start sparring with each other, but it had never been as big of a priority as finding food, and she feared that against a group of cats both belligerent and intelligent, they would all come up lacking. And yet it was her duty to prepare her Clan as best she could for the potential threat.

Shellstar clawed her way up the Tallmast, taking a moment to let the cool air off the ocean ruffle her fur and calm her mind before she gathered her Clan. “Let all cats old enough to hunt gather here beneath the Tallmast for a Clan meeting!” Her summons had changed since they’d officially become TurtleClan, but her campmates responded just the same, heads popping out of dens all around camp. It was a good time for a meeting. All of TurtleClan was in camp just after sunhigh, sharing tongues and enjoying a midday meal before returning to their various duties, so they gathered quickly and completely–she even caught a glimpse of Quiver, broken paw bound tight against a branch, crouched awkwardly just outside of the entrance of Dustjump’s den. That was good. The molly was a bit jumpy and strange, but TurtleClan was small, and they needed more cats familiar with the area and the threats it had to offer–Currentheart’s death had proved that much. Perhaps they could convince her to stay after she healed. 

“Cats of TurtleClan,” Shellstar began, “Brokenmast has been speaking with Quiver,” –the cream colored molly jumped at the mention of her name–”and he found many similarities in her story to the cats that attacked him and Margo some seasons ago. We suspect these cats are an organized group, and fear that they may cause trouble for TurtleClan down the line.”

“They will,” Tidechaser’s lilting tone drifted up from the back of the clearing. Shellstar stiffened.

“You sound familiar with them,” she said, letting her words fall flatly.

“I know of them,” he corrected, “they call themselves the Children of Salt and Sand. They’re a group of cats that believe only cats who are direct descendents of the First Children–the first cats to walk these beaches–deserve to live upon the shores. They think that everyone else has a duty to either serve as they see fit, or move far, far away.”

Whispering broke out among the Clan at Tidechaser’s revelation. 

“Is that so,” Shellstar grated out each word individually. This was more than a passing rumor he’d picked up this Newleaf. No, this was something that Tidechaser had known for moons, probably before they’d even wrecked on the beach. And he hadn’t said a word up until now. Not when they’d arrived, not when Brokenmast had been left for dead by these brutes, and not any time after that, either. Shellstar tried to control her anger, forcing her fur flat. There was one more thing she had to know right away.

“How soon will they become a problem for us?”

“Not for moons yet. Maybe seasons. They’ll eventually want to claim the whole beach, but their attention is focused further upshore for now, and even after that, they’ll want to take care of any lone cats before they try to force out a larger group.”

“I see. Tidechaser, come speak with me in my den for more details. The rest of you are dismissed for now. No cat goes anywhere near the borders alone until we know more.”

Sandtail dipped his head in understanding, waving the rest of the Clan forward to organize them into patrols for their evening duties. Shellstar barely noticed. Her ears were buzzing with fury as she stalked stiffly into her den to await Tidechaser. He was only a few pawsteps behind her, and as soon as he’d passed through the old window she rounded on him, back arched. 

“Where did all of that come from?” Shellstar exploded. “How long have you known that we were sleeping in a fox’s den, just waiting for it to come back.”

“I’ve known from the beginning. The group was founded two seasons before you all arrived here.”

At least he wasn’t lying about it now. “And you never thought to tell us?”

“You never thought to ask,” he countered.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Shellstar spat, “you shouldn’t need me to ask you about whether or not we were all in danger since the moment we arrived here. You must know how it looks–how it’s always looked. You showing up to join a strange group of cats with no explanation when you clearly didn’t care enough to help us during the wreck, the way you always held yourself apart from us, doing exactly as you were told and nothing more. So give me a real answer. One that gives me the tiniest reason why I should allow you to remain in TurtleClan when you’ve been lying through your teeth to us the whole time.”

“I never lied,” Tidechaser protested. “But I didn’t tell you the whole truth, either,” he sighed. “Very well. You do deserve to know the whole truth. But it isn’t such an interesting tale as you might believe. From the very beginning, the Children have wanted me among their ranks. I come from a very old bloodline, and so I was good enough to join their clique. But I didn’t want that. The beach has plenty of resources for those who know how to find them. Cats of old blood, cats of new blood, anyone who can survive here has a right to stay. So I turned them down. But they were… relentless. Following me wherever I denned, nagging and nagging me to join them, despite the fact that I’ve always kept to myself, despite the fact that I told them that I didn’t believe in their cause. So when you landed here, it felt like the winds of Fate himself had blown you right into my paws. You were a group to pit against the children, with enough cats to stand up to them and possibly put a stop to their crusade. But as the moons passed I… found myself starting to care about what happened to you all. I started to think of myself as one of you. I didn’t want to use you like I’d originally planned, but by then…well, how could I tell you what I knew? How could I excuse holding it back for so long? It was easier to just… not say anything at all. Not do anything at all.” Tidechaser’s eyes had grown unfocused, but they snapped back to reality in that heartbeat. “And then Currentheart died. It made me realize that holding things back, even when I didn’t think them relevant, still had a cost. A cost I’m tired of paying. It… isn’t easy for me to do this. To be open and honest. But I have to try. I have to change if I want to be part of TurtleClan. And… I do,” he admitted.

Shellstar crouched in silence, digesting his story, parsing through it for any lies or discrepancies. He seemed earnest but Tidechaser had always been… distant. Cold. Mysterious. If any cat would be able to lie like a fox, it would be him. And yet… if she spent her days looking over her shoulder for threats at her back, she couldn’t focus on the greater danger ahead. Shellstar made her decision. “I believe you,” she said. “And I want you to tell me everything you know about how these Children of Salt and Sand go about conducting this crusade of theirs…”

A/N: Sorry guys, no art today, just a lot of plot. My carpel tunnel had a bad flare up this week and I wasn't able to hold a pen.

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 24 || Chapter 25 || Chapter 26 || From the Beginning || Patreon & Ko-Fi >>

Chapter 25

The next morning, Mothwing took Shadepool home, as promised. They hurried through RiverClan territory, pausing only to catch a small bit of land-prey for breakfast before heading across ShadowClan's border.

They kept themselves to the rule of two-fox-lengths from the lake, even if the ground there was wet and slimy from the thaw. Shadepool hated every step, soaked to her belly in the icy, smelly swampwater, but knew that this was far, far better than encountering any ShadowClan patrols or whatever it was that lurked in their woods. If Mothwing was aware of it, she kept her jaws shut.

At the shallow stream between ShadowClan and RiverClan, Mothwing had to leave.

“Be careful, Shadepool,” she had said, brushing her muzzle along Shadepool's chin. “I don't want to hear of anything bad happening to you.”

Shadepool's pelt warmed at her words. When she touched her nose to Mothwing's in farewell, she mewed, “I won't let Falcontail win.”

Mothwing's gaze had been dark and troubled at that, and Shadepool wondered how Mothwing had even learned of her brother's true nature. There had been no time to ask, though. The sun was climbing past sunhigh, and Shadepool still had a long way to go.

When Mothwing left, Shadepool called for Nightfrost in her mind. She knew her brother was aware that she was returning, and she sensed his anxiety at her safety lifting at the feel of her presence in his head. That anxiety returned in force, however, when he felt how frantic Shadepool was inside.

By the time Shadepool reached the old Twoleg nest, Nightfrost was stumbling out of the bracken, puffing for breath, with dry leaves and stray twigs caught in his fur.

Shadepool's eyes widened at the state of her brother. He must have barreled through every bush to get here so quickly. StarClan knew how he had managed to make it there without tripping and hurting himself.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Nightfrost nodded quickly, still trying to catch his breath.

Shadepool grimaced. “I don't have much time,” she admitted, glancing at the sky. She felt every whiskerlength the sun moved across the sky like pickers biting at her pelt. “Here's what's going on...”

She explained everything she had discovered with Mothwing the night before while Nightfrost recovered from his flight through the forest. When she was done, Nightfrost stared at her, wide-eyed and silent, and Shadepool wondered if she had knocked the breath out of him again.

Finally, he managed to ask, “What's the plan?”

“I'm going to warn Crowflight,” Shadepool explained, flicking an ear. “He needs to know the danger he's in.”

“And what if you're attacked?” Nightfrost countered, his tail lashing in the scattered leaf litter. “What if he doesn't believe you?”

Shadepool stiffened. “I know Crowflight will believe me,” she insisted, stepping closer to her brother. “The cat that Falcontail was talking to said that he'd been trying to forestall WindClan invading us outright this whole time!”

Nightfrost's tail was still twitching, and Shadepool sensed he was struggling to believe her. He pressed, “You have no idea who this WindClan warrior was?”

Shadepool shook her head. She had wracked her brain all night and throughout the trip home, but nothing definitive had sprung to mind. “I just know that it wasn't Crowflight,” she said.

Nightfrost hesitated, and then asked, “Do you think that Falcontail killed Onewhisker and Barkface?”

Shadepool swallowed around a lump in her throat. That was another topic that had buzzed in her mind, making it difficult to get any rest in Mothwing’s nest. “I don't know,” she admitted. “But even if he didn't do it himself, I'm sure he had something to do with it.”

She could sense that her brother was still anxious, reeling over this sudden influx of information, particularly about Shadepool doing this all on her own - but deep down, she knew he understood why. Shadepool had a measure of safety as a medicine cat, even with closed borders.

That didn't mean Shadepool wasn't afraid, though - Nightfrost was right; if she were attacked, she would struggle to defend herself against any fully trained warrior. The lessons she'd had with Stoneheart had been light, and they seemed not just seasons ago but lifetimes, now.

“Go, then,” Nightfrost decided, finally.

Shadepool blinked at her brother, shocked. “But-”

“You don't have much time!” Nightfrost insisted. His ice-blue eyes wavered, his convictions hanging by a thread. “Go! I'll be looking out for you, okay? Anything you need, just tell me. I’ll be there.”

Shadepool's heart thudded in her ears, loud and throbbing. She touched her nose to her brother's, grateful that despite all his instincts screaming against it, despite their past disagreements, he understood he needed to let her do what was necessary.

She knew he wouldn't rest until she returned to camp in one piece, and she endeavored to do just that.

———————————————————

The sky was darkening as Shadepool huffed and puffed her way to the stepping-stones. To avoid as many ThunderClan patrols as possible, Shadepool took the long way around their territory - following the ShadowClan border up and around the Sky Oak, treading along the outskirts, slipping from bush to bush and praying to StarClan her dark pelt made her difficult to see. The land up there was rugged and unforgiving, with just as many rocky slopes as trees, and her paws were sore and throbbing.

She caught herself a wren and ate it in the shelter of a bramble bush. The fresh-kill tasted like nothing on her tongue, but it settled her rumbling belly, which made one less thing to worry about as the sun disappeared and night came.

Shadepool reached for Nightfrost. She felt that he was on watch and that he had volunteered for it. Mistyfoot tried to get some other cat to replace him, but he refused. He was waiting for Shadepool to walk into camp like nothing had happened, safe and sound, or call for his help.

StarClan grant it doesn't come to that, she thought. But just knowing that her brother was there, looking out for her, made her feel a little more confident in what she was about to do. She thanked StarClan again that her brother was nothing like Falcontail before she got to her paws.

The thaw had swollen the Divide, though not enough to burst its banks, thankfully. The water was moving much faster than she had seen before, making the stepping-stones challenging to see. When she finally found them, she shivered nervously. What if the rushing water just swept her away? She would never survive!

A flash of white caught her eye. The white cat was gleaming in the darkness on the opposite shore.

Shadepool blinked at it. Normally, she would've been unsettled or annoyed by its appearance, but something about this time made her feel safe - like she was doing the right thing. She gave it a nod and hoped that these feelings weren't misplaced.

Shadepool gasped, the water's ice-cold claws instantly claiming her the moment her paw broke the surface. She kept her paw there to get used to the chill and measure the current's rush, something she recalled Graystripe and Silverstream doing before they navigated any body of water. The flow tugged at her fur insistently, pulling at her paw - tough but not impossible.

Taking a deep breath, Shadepool set her paw on the first stone.

The water came right up to her belly, soaking her immediately. Shadepool clung to the first stone, panic gripping her to the marrow of her bones as they turned to ice.

This was a mistake! she thought instantly. Her head reeled, and she nearly wailed - there were still so many steps ahead of her, and all it would take was one slip-up to send her careening down the Divide. She would be thrashed against the cliffs before being spat out into the lake like a piece of fresh-kill.

Her stomach curled, and she felt the wren attempt to take its revenge. Could she turn around? But she had to see Crowflight before something happened to him! She looked helplessly across the water, locking eyes with the white cat who stared back, unblinking.

Deep in her ear, she heard it: You can do this.

It wasn't the voice of the white cat, and it certainly wasn't her own - it was Nightfrost. He was terrified to his core for her, but she felt him as if he were right beside her, shoring up her shaking legs with his shoulder.

She would never have made it to the other side without him walking with her.

Shadepool fell onto her back on the WindClan shore, shivering with shock. Nightfrost's presence faded, but the white cat was still there. It lifted a paw and laid it on her side.

The touch was barely more than the flicker of wind in Shadepool's fur, but it was enough to bring her to her senses. Shadepool looked up at the white cat, grateful for its mysterious presence. If Nightfrost couldn't be with her in the flesh, she was glad that the apparition was there, for the first time.

As she thought about those things, though, the white cat vanished, fading into the night like mist.

Shadepool was about to call out to it, beg it to return, but there was a hiss from the darkness: “What in StarClan's name are you doing here?”

Fear shot through Shadepool until she realized that this voice did not match the cat that Falcontail had met with. A black she-cat, barely visible in the dark, came out of the long, thin shadows of the trees - Duskwhisker, Crowflight's friend, stared down at her with narrowed amber eyes.

“Well?” Duskwhisker demanded, her lip curled. She didn't seem to care that Shadepool was half-soaked and shivering from the chilly air.

Shadepool didn't expect her to. She rolled onto her belly and stood, shaking out her pelt. Duskwhisker grimaced as icy water droplets pattered her face. There was some satisfaction in seeing the irritation on the other she-cat's face - Shadepool buried it immediately. That was not at all what she was here for.

“I need to speak with Crowflight,” Shadepool insisted. “Immediately.” Please, let nothing have happened to him already!

Duskwhisker blinked at her as if she had sprouted shrews from her back. “Immediately, you say!” she groaned.

“Yes!” Shadepool mewed. “It's urgent!” She wasn't sure she could tell Duskwhisker what was going on - Crowflight trusted her, but Shadepool was uncertain, not just out of jealousy. Duskwhisker had supported Mudstar initially, just like Falcontail. She might have changed her mind, but Shadepool needed to be safe rather than sorry.

Duskwhisker's whiskers twitched. “Fine, fine,” she groaned. Her tail lashed. “The only reason I'm out here at all at this hour is because of you, you know. 'Keep an eye out for her, please,' he begged. 'For me!' he begged!” Duskwhisker snorted. “Sap that I am, of course I listened...”

The black she-cat shook out her coat and sighed. “Wait here.”

Though she was brusque, Shadepool was touched that Duskwhisker had been doing this. So many cats have kept our secret and supported us, she reflected. Nightfrost, Mothwing, and now Duskwhisker - Shadepool had no idea where she would be without their help. She and Crowflight certainly would have been caught moons ago.

“Thank you, Duskwhisker,” Shadepool murmured, watching the she-cat disappear into the woods.

Shadepool gathered her thoughts while she waited for Duskwhisker to return. She groomed her fur as she considered how she might catch Crowflight up. She paced as she tried to form some sort of plan. She scratched behind her ear, wondering whether this information would keep ThunderClan and WindClan from each other's throats.

It has to, she told herself. It might not directly answer who killed Onewhisker and Barkface, but Mudstar can't overlook the trouble brewing in his own Clan!

She thought of Nightfrost's suggestion - that Falcontail had been the one to kill Onewhisker and Barkface. It mirrored thoughts that Shadepool had had upon listening to his conversation with his WindClan conspirator - but was Falcontail really skilled enough to do it? She hadn't noticed any new wounds on his pelt since the civil war. The tuft of fur she had found meant that at least Barkface had struck his attacker.

Perhaps he hadn't done it alone?

Shadepool was uncertain of that, too - Cloudtail had said that the ThunderClan scent hadn't been genuine, that some cat had rolled in a scent marker and then attacked; Shadepool guessed that Falcontail was smart enough to do that, but Cloudtail hadn't seen any evidence of multiple attackers, and the scene of the ambush was difficult to read after laying so long unexamined.

Her head throbbed. Why couldn't this just be easy?

Moonhigh had come and gone by the time Crowflight appeared. Shadepool had hidden herself in some bushes near the Divide, struggling not to fall asleep from the rush of the past two days. When he whispered her name, his voice jolted her to alertness instantly.

“I'm here!” she breathed, standing. Energy flooded her limbs. “Right here!”

Crowflight sighed, relieved. He immediately touched his nose to hers, and Shadepool breathed in his scent. He was unharmed, but she detected fear just beneath the surface.

“Duskwhisker said you needed to talk, urgently,” Crowflight meowed, wasting no time. His dark blue eyes searched her face. “I'm so sorry I haven't seen you in so long - it’s so hard to get away. What's going on?”

There was no time even to enjoy his presence. Crowflight needed to know the danger he was in before it struck him unaware. Shadepool opened her jaws and repeated just about everything she had told Nightfrost. By the end, Crowflight had the same stunned expression, slack-jawed and all.

“Fox-dung,” he muttered. He blinked, then spat, “Fox-dung, fox-dung, fox-dung!”

Shadepool blinked, shocked at his words. “What is it?” she asked.

Crowflight lashed his bristling tail. “I know who was talking to that rat-mouthed Falcontail!” he hissed.

Shadepool's heart leaped into her throat. “Who?”

“Emberstep,” Crowflight answered. His claws dug into the softening earth, tearing it into clumps. “I caught her sneaking into camp this morning, freshly groomed and with a flimsy excuse!”

Emberstep? Shadepool shivered. Somehow, she wasn't surprised that the overly aggressive she-cat was the one Falcontail had been talking to. Yet - “Are you sure?” she pressed. “Is Emberstep the type to do something like plot with a cat from another Clan? She's always seemed so loyal to WindClan!”

Crowflight's eyes blazed. “Oh, she is, believe me,” he growled. “Do you remember when you told Barkface about the Moonpool? Who he sent to talk to Mothwing in your stead?”

Shadepool nodded. “He sent Ryewhisper, because I was so tired,” she recalled. It had been such a kind gesture, made bittersweet now that the old medicine cat was dead.

“Yes,” Crowflight mewed, “but Emberstep went with him.”

Shadepool's ears pricked. Perhaps she had been too tired to recall that!

Crowflight's tail lashed back and forth, the fur at the base of his spine bristling. “I didn't think much of it then, but now it makes too much sense - how else did Falcontail know to gather Mudstar's supporters from the other Clans in time for him to challenge Onewhisker?”

Shadepool's heart stopped in her throat. “Emberstep told him,” she whispered.

Crowflight nodded. He curled his lip. “Falcontail was the cat to push Mudstar into challenging Onewhisker in the first place, too,” he snarled. “Emberstep was there for their first meeting as well.”

Limbs quivering, Shadepool ventured, “Do you think... Do you think that they...?”

Crowflight's blue eyes sharpened. He knew what Shadepool was trying to say, even if she couldn't bring herself to say it - that Falcontail and Emberstep had somehow conspired to kill Onewhisker and Barkface, together.

“I don't know,” Crowflight admitted, his voice a whisper. His dark blue eyes shimmered with hopelessness. “I thought it was Mudstar, you know - everyone did - but he had been guarded the entire time, and after the tree fell on him, he could barely move anywhere. Without Onewhisker's spirit to talk to...” He looked at her, his gaze pleading. “Please tell me that Barkface made it to StarClan, Shadepool - please...”

Shadepool's stomach sank, and she struggled for words.

Her silence was more than enough. Crowflight sighed, falling onto his haunches. “Shadepool... What have we done?” he wondered. Though he stared at her, his gaze seemed unfocused and far away. “We brought the Clans to this place where not even our spirits can rest with our ancestors!”

Horror crept up Shadepool's pelt. He was right - so far, nearly every cat that had died since they had come to the lake hadn't made it to StarClan. Was that part of Falcontail's plot, too? Or could it be that StarClan could not reach their spirits?

But Tallstar made it, she thought. Yellowfang had said that the old WindClan leader had tried to collect his WindClan Clanmates. So why were Onewhisker and Barkface stolen?

“Crowflight...” Shadepool murmured, her mouth dry. She rested her muzzle on his shoulder. She wasn't sure what she could say but everything else she had said before: “We'll figure this out. We can do it together. I know it. Please, don't give up hope, Crow! Remember? When we're together, there's nothing we can't-”

“Disgusting.”

The hiss came from the woods, and Shadepool did not need to lift her head to know who it had come from. Her heart nearly stopped.

“Emberstep.” Crowflight's challenging snarl vibrated Shadepool's cheek.

Shadepool moved away from Crowflight in time for the lean she-cat to come into the moonlight. The fur along her spine was lifted, and Shadepool saw the gleam of claws as she prowled closer and closer. Her eyes shone with a vibrant hatred as she glared at them both.

Trembling, Shadepool mewed lamely, “We know what you're up to!”

Emberstep's whiskers twitched. “Do you, now? And what are you two up to, exactly?”

Crowflight slid between Shadepool and Emberstep, his back arched. “It's over, Emberstep,” he growled. “You failed.”

Emberstep scoffed, “Not yet, I haven't - I thought I'd have a harder time dealing with you, but when I tell Mudstar that you're mates with ThunderClan's medicine cat, I won't have to lift a claw.” She curled her lip into a sneer. “You'll be exiled so fast, you'll leave your whiskers behind!”

She seemed to consider something in her mind. “Though that means you'll run to ThunderClan, and we can't have that!”

“Shade, run,” Crowflight hissed.

“No!” Shadepool snapped. “Not without you!” Frantically, she tried to think of what they could do. “Come with me! Tinystar will help us figure something out!”

Emberstep lunged.

Crowflight met her mid-air, ramming his shoulder into her gut. The two spun, suspended for what felt like ages before they both landed hard on the ground.

Shadepool watched, stunned, as Crowflight wrestled in the grass with his Clanmate. Claws flashed, and the scent of blood touched the chilly air. Shadepool's heart thudded in her ears - the two seemed evenly matched, but Emberstep was going for the throat. Crowflight wasn't.

It all happened so quickly - Emberstep managed to toss Crowflight away with ferocious strength. He landed hard on the ground, and though Shadepool could see the rise and fall of his side, he didn't move. Crowflight was stunned.

Emberstep turned her attention to Shadepool.

Nightfrost’s voice screamed in her mind: Run!

Shadepool was on her paws before she could even register the earth beneath her toes. There was one problem, however:

There was nowhere to go.

Emberstep chuckled. A bit of blood trickled from a scratch above her eye. “Oh, this is too easy...”

Shadepool felt Emberstep's breath on her tail. She did the only thing she knew she could do - the stepping-stones. Shadepool flung herself onto the first, earning a shocked mewl from her pursuer as she realized there was another way across the Divide.

The surprise didn't last long. By the time Shadepool had gotten herself to the second stone, Emberstep was already splashing onto the first.

Filled with sheer panic, Shadepool had no choice - she couldn't afford to take the stones one at a time, the way they ought to be taken in these conditions. She had to put distance between herself and Emberstep, and she had to do it fast.

With a prayer to StarClan, to the white cat, to whoever was listening, Shadepool ran.

Her paws skimmed the stones. Unable to look down, she could only trust her paws not to steer her wrong. The crash and thunder of water echoed in her ears until it was all she could hear. The stepping-stone path seemed to double, no, triple in length.

Across the waters, on the ThunderClan shore, Shadepool saw the white cat again.

Without Nightfrost by her side, she kept her eyes fixed on the white cat - that beacon that stood in the safety and sanctuary of ThunderClan territory. It was all she could do.

And it worked.

Shadepool leaped past the white cat, landing on all fours inside the ThunderClan border, her legs soaked and trembling. Yet when she turned, she saw that Emberstep was only a few heartbeats behind, her gaze just as furiously focused. Shadepool's heart sank: If Emberstep caught her, she would be dead. Shadepool scrambled for places she could run, the fastest route to camp, anywhere that might lead her to safety.

Suddenly, the white cat rose to its paws from beside Shadepool. Emberstep's gaze faltered - the gleam of the white cat was reflected in her eyes.

“Who in the-” Emberstep hissed.

Shadepool swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. Emberstep could see the white cat!

The white cat leaned forward, floating over the stepping-stones, and exploded into a thousand moths.

Emberstep shrieked in shock. The moths flitted around her, enveloping Emberstep like a blinding white cloud. The gray she-cat’s paws slipped out from under her, and when she tried to scramble for purchase, her claws found only air.

A heartbeat later, Emberstep’s head hit one of the stepping-stones, the dull noise ringing out through the woods over the crash of water. Shadepool, her skin prickling, watched the dark shape of Emberstep’s body disappear beneath the surface, carried swiftly downstream.

A thin trickle of red appeared on the water and then was gone just as quickly, consumed by white foam.

Horrified, Shadepool looked up at the white cat - only to find it was gone.

“Shadepool!”

Shadepool blinked. Crowflight was making his way across the water, and she nearly yowled for him to be careful - but he had seen what had happened, that much was for sure. He took the stepping-stones carefully, the fur along his spine bristling with each agonizing step.

They met on the shore, and Shadepool pressed her muzzle into his ruffled, dusty pelt, letting her fear bubble up into a wail of terror that she could not contain. Crowflight let her carry on, shaking against him, his tail wrapped around her flank and his chin on her shoulder.

“We've got to find her,” Crowflight breathed when she was finally done. “She might still be alive!”

Shadepool doubted it, but she followed her mate as he dashed along the river bank. Shadepool's legs were wobbly icicles, and she could barely feel the ground beneath her paws. Whenever she blinked, she saw Emberstep sinking beneath a wave of stardust, blank-eyed and limp.

They found her body by the tree-bridge, caught up on the pile of stones that supported the trunk on the ThunderClan side. The water was tugging at her back legs and tail, her gray pelt soaked until it was black. When Crowflight dragged her out of the water and began rubbing her furiously with his paws, Shadepool didn't need to be a medicine cat to know that it would be fruitless.

Emberstep was dead.

Shadepool drew close, pressing her head into Crowflight’s side. His paws were trembling as he pressed them against Emberstep’s side, trying to force the water from the dead she-cat’s body. Though his Clanmate had tried to kill them both, he was still devastated to see her die. He had seen so many of his Clanmates die.

“Crow...” Shadepool murmured. She looked down at Emberstep, marveling at how peaceful she seemed. A moment ago, those eyes were lit with fury and bloodlust - now they were dim and blank, staring at nothing.

She laid one of her paws over Crowflight’s. “I'm so sorry.”

Crowflight stopped trying, then. He stared up at Shadepool. She saw his throat struggle - he was about to say something when his ear twitched. His eyes flickered past Shadepool and widened, whites slicing into the deep blues and blacks of his form.

Shadepool trembled. The adrenaline was dying down now, and she was so, so tired and so, so hungry. What else could there be? Another attacker? But she felt sympathy, sorrow - it trickled into her from somewhere very, very close, like a breath on her ear. Before Shadepool turned her head, she knew that Nightfrost would be there.

But when she looked at him, she found that he wasn't alone.

“Great StarClan,” whispered Brackenfur. He limped forward a step, eyes wide. “What's happened here?”

[clangenrising]

Month 14 - Newleaf

“Thank you all for coming,” Goldenstar said to the assembled warriors of RisingClan. “This should be quick.” Everyone had gathered at sunhigh to talk while the kits were sleeping. Even Sagetooth and Oddstripe were in attendance. The only cat missing was Songdust, whose absence hung heavy over the group like an ill omen.

Yarrowshade shrugged and said, “We’re happy to be here, Goldie.” She smiled and he grinned in return. It was good to see her smiling again. Beside her, Scorchplume’s tail was twined with hers, a development he had noticed a few days ago but said nothing about yet. Neither of them seemed to want to bring it up either so he left it alone.

“We all want to see the end of this war,” said Pantherhaze and the rest of the group concurred. Yarrowshade in particular couldn’t wait to pay the rogues back for all the grief they had caused him. His claws ached to sink into their fur. His skin itched for the satisfaction of a well-deserved wound.

“I’ve been discussing strategies with Scorchplume,” Goldenstar said, “and she thinks there’s a way we could manage to take Razor out of play, which would be huge.” 

“Yes,” Scorchplume said, less excited than Goldenstar was. “It’s risky though.”

“Risky is what we do,” Floodpaw purred proudly. Oddstripe clucked with worry. 

“Right,” said Goldenstar. “A risk with big pay off is way better than continuing to sit and wait. Go ahead.” 

“Alright,” sighed Scorch. Yarrowshade watched her shift uncomfortably and added another smack to the list of punishments he owed Razor. “When Smokyrose came to the city, they were discussing a peace agreement. Until Ghost arrived, it looked like he was going to arrange a one on one meeting with Goldenstar that he would use to ambush her and take out your leader.” 

A few cats shifted bitterly at the mention of Smokyrose. 

“The plan is to arrange that meeting,” Goldenstar said with a fiery conviction in her voice, “and then ambush him back.” 

“But it’s extremely dangerous,” Scorch cautioned. “Goldenstar will have to be basically alone with Razor for at least a few moments. If there are any mistakes, Goldenstar could die.” 

“I could lose a life,” Goldenstar admitted, “but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. As long as the rest of you come in to corner him, we should succeed.” Scorch chewed her lip, tail rippling irritably, and Yarrowshade realized that she still didn’t believe in Goldenstar’s nine lives. 

“I think it sounds like a solid course of action,” Sagetooth said. “I’ll consult StarClan but I think we should plan on going through with it.” 

“We should ask the other Clans too,” said Pantherhaze. “We only won the last battle because of their help. We could use it again.” 

“Yeah, we don’t know how many cats Razor will bring with him,” said Sparrowpaw. “Best to be prepared.”

“I agree,” Goldenstar said, “and I’m sure something this important will get Flightstar and Snowstar to agree to it. Scorchplume believes that Razor thinks I’m the Clans’ only leader, so I’ll also be the one meeting him and taking on all the risk.” Scorch shifted again.

“Just don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Oddstripe said. “I don’t want to have more of you injured than is necessary.” Sagetooth twitched her ear. 

“We’ll train in defensive combat strategies and cooperative fighting in preparation,” said Russetfrond, looking more like himself than he had over the last couple days. Yarrowshade had enjoyed how miserable Mystique’s pregnancy had made him at first but by now he was just glad that the deputy had stopped moping. It was unsettling - too unlike him.

“Good idea,” Goldenstar nodded. “Russetfrond and I will come up with a more decisive battle plan and share it with you all during training. Are there any other questions?” 

“What are we going to do about Songdust?” Floodpaw asked impatiently. Barleypaw nodded. Sparrowpaw looked at the ground. Pantherhaze and Ospreymask leaned forward for the answer.

Goldenstar shifted. “That’s a little more complicated…” 

“I know a cat or two who might be able to help,” Scorch said, “but there’s not much we can do without going into the city which we can’t really do with Razor in power like this.” 

“StarClan will protect her if they can,” Sagetooth said. “Defeating Razor is the first step. Then we can think about rescuing Songdust.” No one seemed satisfied with that answer, but Scorch was right. There wasn’t really anything they could do. 

After a moment or two of silence, Goldenstar said, “Alright then. Meeting adjourned. Everyone focus on preparing for the battle. May StarClan guide us.”

“May StarClan guide us,” said Sagetooth, Oddstripe, Barleypaw, and Pantherhaze’s staggered voices. The cats began to disperse. Yarrowshade picked himself up and moved to talk with Scorch and Goldenstar. 

“Hey, you guys wanna go train or something?” he asked. Goldenstar looked to Scorchplume.

“You two can go,” Scorch said. “I’m not going to go anywhere near Razor.” 

“Still, it can’t hurt to get some practice in, right?” Yarrowshade asked. She looked at him and he swore he could hear her thoughts, how irritating she found him, how much she hated him for ‘choosing Nightfrost.’

“Fine,” she said shortly. 

“Great,” Goldenstar laughed a little and Scorch shot her a subtle glare. “Or what if we scout out places for the meeting instead? That’s something you could help with.” 

“I suppose,” Scorchplume hummed, seeming more inclined to that idea. Yarrowshade couldn’t help but feel like she just liked Goldenstar’s ideas better than his. He swallowed tightly and tried not to look disappointed. 

“Sounds good to me,” he said brightly. “Let’s go.” 

They set out towards the southern border. The day was warm for the season, bright and sunny with a welcome breeze. Yarrowshade tilted his face to the sun and tried to enjoy the warmth of it. 

“How’ve you been, by the way?” asked Goldenstar.

He tilted his head in her direction. “Good, I guess.” Lonely. “I’ve missed hanging out with you two though.” 

“Same, honestly,” Goldenstar said, leaning into Scorchplume’s side. “I can’t wait for all this business to be over so things can go back to normal.” 

“Normal is extremely relative,” Scorch hummed. “I for one am sick of normal.”

“We’ll just have to make a new normal then,” Yarrowshade tried, offering her a smile. She raised her brows at him but said nothing. He tried not to frown. 

“Scorch,” Goldenstar said softly. “He’s trying. Be nice to him.” Yarrowshade blushed at being called out like that. Was he so obvious? Scorch scowled at Goldenstar but there was no malice in her gaze. 

“I’ll do what I please,” she huffed.

“I know,” purred Goldenstar, “but you guys used to be good friends right? I don’t see the point in holding onto a grudge when you could just get along again.”

“Look,” Yarrowshade cut in, fur prickling in discomfort, “if it helps; I’m sorry for whatever I did.”

“Whatever you did?” Scorch raised her brows even higher somehow. 

“Yes?” he winced. This felt like a trap. 

“What was that, exactly?” Scorch asked. Goldenstar was mouthing something but he was terrible at reading lips. 

“For…” Yarrowshade hesitated. He had to find the correct answer. “For not choosing you?” There was a moment of silence where Scorch sized him up and he and Goldenstar held their breath. 

Then Scorch said, “Apology accepted.” Both Yarrowshade and Goldenstar sighed in relief. Scorch flicked her ear in annoyance. 

But after that, things were alright. Yarrowshade brought up a funny story from hunting with Barleypaw the other day and the others laughed. Scorch poked fun at him with an easy smile rather than a cold, defensive one. Goldenstar wouldn’t stop purring. He still felt like he was walking on thin ice, but at least for now Scorch was finding him entertaining. That was all he wanted, really. 

Discussion moved on to talk about how Barleypaw and her littermates would be warriors in a moon or two. Goldenstar expressed being nervous about her first real warrior ceremony as leader and Scorch and Yarrowshade told her she had nothing to worry about. From there, they started talking about Slatekit and Fogkit and their upcoming ceremony. 

“I still don’t know who should mentor Fogkit,” said Goldenstar as they paused to examine the sightlines on one hill. “I think I have Slatekit settled but Fogkit doesn’t like Ospreymask anymore and I’m not sure who else could mentor her.” 

“She’s a pawful, isn’t she?” Yarrowshade chuckled. “Yesterday I caught her ‘crafting curses’ out of claw sheds and bird bones.” 

“Crafting curses?” Scorch said skeptically. 

“Yeah,” shrugged Yarrowshade. “I don’t know where she got the idea but she said she was trying to curse the rogues to death.” He shook his head. “I’m honestly glad I already have Barleypaw cause I don’t think I would want to try and untangle that whole mess.” 

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Goldenstar said. “I would take her myself but I’ve already got Floodpaw.”

“You can’t just take every apprentice who seems like they’ll be a pawful,” Scorch huffed. 

“Is that a challenge?” Goldenstar teased and Scorch rolled her eyes. 

“Look, if it’s really such a predicament, just give her to me.” 

Yarrowshade and Goldenstar fell into stunned silence. 

“What?” Scorch bristled defensively. “Is that so outlandish?”

“No, no,” Goldenstar said quickly, a smile spreading across her face, “I just didn’t expect you to want an apprentice! I mean, it’s a pretty big commitment.” 

“Does that mean you’re staying?” Yarrowshade asked excitedly. 

Scorch swished her tail back and forth, puffing up like a ginger pigeon. “For now,” she said. “By the time I leave, Floodpaw will be a warrior and then Goldenstar can take over her training.” 

Yarrowshade cocked a brow, smirking. “I don’t buy it.” 

Goldenstar was grinning like an idiot. “Oh, Scorch!” she purred, butting her head into Scorchplume’s shoulder. “I love you so much!”

“That’s it!” Scorch said, putting both paws on Goldenstar’s face and shoving her away. “I’m actually leaving right now and throwing myself in the river.” 

“Wait, no!” wailed Goldenstar through laughter. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to use the forbidden word!” She threw herself at Scorch’s feet and clung to her like a needy kitten. Scorch huffed a laugh through her nose. 

“Please, your excellence,” she said, pretending to be scandalized, “you forget yourself.” Goldenstar laughed, chest thrumming with an uncontrollable purr. 

Yarrowshade swallowed thickly. Grief, unexpected and overwhelming, flooded his mind as he watched them joke and flirt. Neither of them seemed to notice and he was grateful for it. He carefully turned away and started down the far side of the hill, breathing slowly through his nose to try and stop himself from tearing up. 

Get it together, Yarrowshade, he thought to himself. This was such a stupid thing to cry over! He wasn’t going to let them see him like this. 

“Look,” Scorch said smugly, “your pathetic displays have scared off Yarrowshade.”

“Ah!” Goldenstar cried, still laughing, “Yarrowshade, wait! I’m sorry!”

He paused and let out one last breath before forcing the frown off of his face. “I think this hill is too exposed,” he said, glancing back at them. “Maybe we should try somewhere with trees?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Goldenstar had gotten to her feet and was halfway to him, Scorch trailing behind. Both of them looked so happy it hurt to watch.

“Do you think Orangestar would let us hold the meeting on EarthClan territory?” he asked, looking away. He focused his eyes on the trees up ahead and tried to pretend that he was fine. 

“Maybe!” Goldenstar said. “I’ll bring it up at the Gathering.” 

“Hmm,” Scorch chewed her lip. “Could we take a look anyway or would that be inappropriate.” 

“I’m not sure,” Goldenstar said.

“Probably best to wait for permission,” Yarrowshade said. 

“Yeahhhh,” Goldenstar sighed. “Oh well. Why don’t we catch some lunch and head back?” 

“Sounds good to me,” said Scorch. 

“Yeah,” Yarrowshade turned back to them, smiling again even if it felt a little forced. “I’d love that.”