#yarrowshade

[clangenrising]

Month 19 - Leaffall

The rogues attacked from downwind. Somehow, despite their multitude of bell collars, they approached the camp silently, only revealing themselves when they appeared at the top of the ridge and poured down into camp. Barleybee had been talking with Aldertail when it happened and in the time it took to blink, Aldertail was gone, sprinting as quickly as she could away from the camp. 

The rogues hit like a wave and it took a few moments for Barleybee to reorient herself in the tide of muscle and claws. She found herself on her back underneath a pair of snapping jaws that she barely managed to keep at bay by extending her long legs. She pulled herself together, kicked hard, and sent the kittypet reeling just long enough for her to climb to her feet. 

Another kittypet lunged in to fill the other’s space, lashing out with both claws, and she barely avoided losing an eye with a corkscrew twist. There were so many of them, jostling around each other claustrophobically. She danced backwards, using her long reach to her advantage as she skirted claws and teeth and threw in a strike here or there. 

One of the kittypets struck hard in the elbow and she limped backwards only for another to lunge in and topple her onto her back again. She hissed and kicked out but this one didn’t give. He sank his teeth into her shoulder and she cried out in pain. The other cat was snapping at her tail. The number of cats was overwhelming, threatening to shut her brain down entirely which was terrifying. She could feel her thoughts spiraling out of control, wondering where Slatepaw was or if Songdust would be able to keep up with the amount of enemies. 

“Barley!” Yarrowshade’s voice snapped her back into the here and now. With a painful tug on her shoulder, the cat on top of her was tackled to the side and she managed to focus long enough to kick the other kittypet hard in the face. She stood and found herself back to back with Yarrowshade, relief flooding through her from every inch of him that pressed up against her. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she said without looking at him. The kittypet prowled in front of her, looking for a gap in her defense. 

“Get off me!” Yellowkit’s voice screamed above the din and it took all of her restraint not to turn her head towards the sound. 

“The kits,” she gasped.

“Go,” Yarrowshade said, “They need you.” She didn’t wait. Darting sideways, she wove around the thronging combatants, Yarrowshade snarling behind her. She moved as quickly as she could to the nursery, managing to leap and spring past any attacks that came her way until she came upon a smoky tabby hoisting Yellowkit by his scruff, another cat’s tail twitching in the entryway to the nursery as Bluekit screamed inside. 

“Back off!” Barleybee roared, smacking the tabby as hard as she could across the face. There was a righteous satisfaction in the resistance of his flesh against her claws. He reeled and Yellowkit managed to pull out of his grasp. 

“Help!” he wailed, trying to crawl underneath her, which wasn’t exactly helpful. 

“Get in the nursery!” she ordered, landing another sharp blow on the tabby’s head. Yellowkit nodded and rushed past her into the den. Barleybee turned quickly, hoping the tabby stayed down, and latched her teeth into the other rogue’s leg, yanking him backwards until his hindquarters were out of the den. Bluekit screamed even louder and Barleybee gave another frantic tug. 

“What the-” The kittypet wheeled around and swiped at her but she tumbled under the blow and into the nursery. Twisting onto her feet, she slashed at his eyes driving him backwards into the clearing. The two kittypets loomed close, glaring at her but she arched her back and did her best to block the entryway with her body. 

“Bluekit, are you hurt?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No, ma’am,” the kit said, voice trembling. 

“Good,” she nodded. “Both of you stay at the back of the den.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” cried Bluekit.

“Okay,” Yellowkit sniffled. 

“Out of the way, girl,” growled the second rogue, a burly, fawn-colored tom in a green collar.

“No way,” hissed Barleybee. 

“We’re just here for the kits,” said the smoke tabby, much calmer, as if they weren’t in the middle of a bloodbath. “They belong in the city with their mother. It’s wrong to keep them separated like this, surely you can see that.” 

“They’re happy where they are,” she said. “Touch them again and I’ll make you pay for it.” The tabby’s eyes darkened with thought. The fawn tom lunged. 

Barleybee had been waiting and she braced herself against his weight as he tried to shove her backwards into the den, paws skidding in the dirt. She wrapped her paws around his neck and sank her teeth into his cheek, twisting her head with her jaw clamped firmly around his flesh. He hissed in pain, twisted his head with hers to avoid the worst of the pain, and ended up losing his balance, forced to fall back. Barleybee gave him a few more claw wounds to send him on his way. 

The tabby moved in and reared up to swipe at her. Barleybee could tell by his stance that he would be easy to tackle but she ignored the temptation, instead swatting his paws out of the air before they could reach her face. He dropped back down, scowling, and she smirked in return. 

“Nice try,” she said. “I’m not moving.” 

“You’re smart,” said the tabby, “I’ll give you that.” Barleybee couldn’t help but be flattered, even if the cat complimenting her was despicable. When she realized it, her chest seized with panic. Was that a trick? Was he trying to get her to drop her guard with flattery? Had she already made a fatal mistake? She squared her stance, ears pressed back against her head, and bared her teeth. The smoky tabby’s tail twitched irritably. 

“London!” a voice hissed, “What’s the hold up?” Slinking in from the edge of the clearing came a small brown tabby with a dark mask and a silver collar. He glared at the smoky tabby for a beat before turning his cruel green gaze on Barleybee. 

“They’re big kits,” London said. “It’s not so easy to drag them off.” 

“Besides,” growled the fawn cat, “this bitch is blocking the door.” 

“She’s one girl!” the new tabby snapped, tail bristling. “Do your jobs already! Casper and I have already finished ours.” 

“If you’re so competent, do it yourself,” the fawn cat’s lip curled. The masked tabby’s gaze turned venomous. Barleybee took the chance to catch her breath, ears and eyes alert for any sign that one of them was about to move. She had to anticipate their attacks, had to be ready for anything. Yellowkit and Bluekit were counting on her.

Suddenly a new chorus of yowls broke out from the north-west. The movement of the battle shifted, turning towards the flood of cats that was pouring into the clearing. Barleybee’s eyes widened as she saw Snowstar and Orangestar clawing their way side by side into the heart of the fighting. 

“Reinforcements,” London hissed under his breath, his thick fur brushing up. 

“Quickly!” spat the masked tabby. “Let’s grab the kits and leave already!” 

The fawn cat lunged for Barleybee again and this time he took her to the ground. Yellowkit and Bluekit screamed in chorus as he slammed her onto her back. She kicked as hard as she could, trying to tear up his belly, and he twisted off of her, leaving claw marks on her shoulders. 

The nursery had been breached. London darted in over her, moving straight for the kits, only to be suddenly pulled backward by his tail. He yowled in pain, twisted around and slashed at Russetfrond but the deputy held fast to his tail. With another yank, he dragged London back out, stripping a section of his tail of fur. 

“You again,” the masked tabby grumbled, dropping low into a crouch. Russetfrond growled around the tail in his mouth. 

Barleybee quickly rolled to her feet and lunged for the rogue inside the nursery, tearing his fawn pelt in her claws as she chased him up against one of the walls. He kicked her hard in the belly and she stumbled back, trying to make her body as big of a barrier between him and the kittens as she could, but, to her surprise, he took the opportunity to slip through the entrance and take off into the night.

“Coward!” shouted the masked tabby. 

London had finally managed to get Russetfrond to let go of his tail and now he backed up next to the smaller cat. “I think it’s time to go.” Barleybee quickly moved to block the entrance again. Outside, the battlefield had changed dramatically. Now outnumbered, the city cats were starting to fall back one by one, only making the remaining rogues more outnumbered with every second. 

“Sardine, right?” Russetfrond growled, prowling forward. “You’re not going anywhere this time.” Appearing from the crowd, Sparrowsway hissed his agreement and moved to cut off the rear. The masked tabby -- Sardine, it seemed -- glanced warily at both of them, shifting into a smaller, defensive stance. London growled and turned to keep an eye on Sparrowsway, his tail twitching threateningly back and forth. 

A white shape slammed into Russetfrond’s side, pushing him off his feet. The deputy swayed, caught himself, and lurched back at the snub-nosed kittypet who had attacked him. The rogue’s face was drenched in blood, a crimson streak stark against his glossy white fur. Barleybee shuddered at the sight. Whose blood had he spilt? Was it someone she knew? 

“Just in time, Casper,” Sardine purred smugly. He sprang towards Barleybee and she braced herself only to realize he was leaping up over her head to escape. Sparrowsway lunged after him but London tackled him out of the air and they rolled away, hissing violently as they clawed at each other. Barleybee bunched her legs to go after Sardine but froze. She glanced over her shoulder at the kittens huddled frightfully against the wall of the nursery. They stared at her with matching pairs of wide, glistening copper eyes. 

What if she left and they were kitnapped because of her? But wasn’t catching the leader of the city cats a top priority? Her ears fell back against her head as she realized that in her indecision she had made her choice. Swallowing, she braced herself in the entryway again. London and Casper had detached themselves from their opponents in the time she’d spent waffling and fled after their leader. Russetfrond snarled after them for a moment, then his gaze fell on her and he hurried over. 

“Are they alright?” he asked, peering over her shoulder.

“Yes, they’re safe,” she stepped to the side and pressed herself up against the wall to let him in.

“Father!” Bluekit wailed and rushed to press his face into Russetfrond’s fur. Yellowkit was close behind and Barleybee’s chest swelled with emotion as Russetfrond crouched down over his kits and ran his tongue over their pelts. 

“Did they hurt you?” he growled, checking their bellies and sides for wounds.

“They didn’t hurt us,” Bluekit shook his head.

“They were trying to take us away!” Yellowkit sobbed. 

“Those foxhearts,” Russetfrond snarled, curling tightly around his sons. “I’ll make them pay for that.” 

“That’s the last one!” Branchbark’s voice called out. Things had quieted somewhat but the camp was still noisy with the sound of EarthClan and SkyClan’s warriors. 

Stormwhisper leapt up on the Stoneperch and called, “Everyone with a serious injury, please gather over on the big flat stone there! Everyone else, please disperse so that we can tend to the wounded.” The crowd slowly began to separate and drift away from each other. 

Coyotechaser barked, “Someone help me take this kittypet out of camp and bury him.” Beneath her paws lay a tabby and white kittypet with glazed over expression. 

“I’ll help,” said Pantherhaze, limping over to her. Together, they started dragging the body out of camp, thank StarClan. Barleybee sighed, stepped away from the nursery, content that the kittens were safe, and padded over to Sparrowsway. 

He looked her over and asked, “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. She had her fair share of claw marks and a bite or two but nothing that needed immediate attention. “You?” 

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “I can’t believe they attacked during the gathering. Mystique must have told them about it.” He glared at the dirt, kneading his claws in frustration. Barleybee frowned worriedly. 

“I guess so…” she mumbled. Self-consciously, she straightened out a few of her feathers that had been knocked askew in the fight. She was certain that a few had fallen out. She’d have to find another cardinal to replace them…

A sudden scream cut through the air. Barleybee’s hackles shot up and her eyes darted across the camp to where Fogpaw was quickly backing out of the healers’ den. The apprentice’s fur stood on end, making her a white puff ball, and her tail arched sharply down behind her, ears pressed against her head. 

“What is it?” Scorchplume bounded over to her and searched her face. Fogpaw shook her head, staring unfocused into the mouth of the den. “Fogpaw, what’s wrong?” Fogpaw shook her head some more, this time meeting Scorch’s gaze, and burst into tears, flinging herself into her mentor’s chest. Scorchplume stiffened and very gingerly pulled the apprentice close, staring at Goldenstar for help. Goldenstar, standing by her den with Orangestar and Snowstar, looked just as lost and extremely concerned. 

After a moment, Floodstrike stepped out of the healer’s den, his paws drenched in thick, dark blood. He looked angrier than Barleybee had ever seen him and his eyes were red with tears. Dread gripped her chest tightly in its claws as the whole clearing held its breath. 

“Sagetooth and Lakepaw are dead,” he said hoarsely. “The herb stores are destroyed.” 

“Oh, stars,” Barleybee breathed. They’d been sick. Undefended. An overwhelming wave of crushing guilt fell over her. She should have known. She should have gone to help them. Someone else would have saved the kittens, she should have rescued Lakepaw. She started to cry as well, paws shaking as the adrenaline crash consumed her. 

“No,” Branchbark sobbed. Quickly, he hurried past Floodstrike into the healers’ den, jostling Floodstrike who failed to step out of the way. 

“Bogmist!” Stormwhisper stood up from where he had been inspecting Ospreymask’s wounds. “I need cobwebs and sorrel right now.” The EarthClan deputy nodded and took off towards the woods. Stormwhisper looked at the nearest non-RisingClan warrior and said, “You! I need fresh moss and water from the river. Go!” Nodding dutifully, Pebblefall leapt to their feet and dashed off into the fields. 

“Floodstrike,” Sparrowsway started towards his brother but Floodstrike turned his head away and stalked out of camp. Sparrowsway paused and looked back at Barleybee. 

She swallowed, sniffed, and said, “I’ll talk to him.” Quickly, she strode across camp to follow him. She caught up with him at the bottom of the hill on the southern side of camp, calling, “Floodstrike, wait!”

“I’m going to kill them,” he spat through tears, still walking. “I’m going to kill every single one of those monsters.”

“Wh- Now?” Barleybee asked, following his gaze towards the glowing orange of the distant city lights. “Floodstrike, that’s impossible! You’re going to get yourself killed!” 

“So what?” he rounded on her, tears streaking down his cheeks. “I have to do something! She needed me and I let her die! I failed her!” 

“You couldn’t have known!” Barleybee pleaded. “It’s not your fault, Floodstrike.” 

“She was my apprentice,” he sniffed harshly. “She looked up to me -- stars, she was so young! She was my little girl and they killed her!”

“I know,” Barleybee’s tears were flowing freely now. “I know, Floodstrike. But trying to take revenge isn’t going to make you feel any better. It will only make you a killer too.” 

“I’m not doing this for me!” he hissed, tail arching, “I’m doing this for her! She’s watching! She deserves to know I’m not just going to accept what they did to her!” 

“She wouldn’t want you to do this,” Barleybee stepped closer. “She was so sweet and kind. She would want you to move on and heal, Floodstrike. Please, come back to camp with me.” She watched his face for a good, long moment. His eyes were blazing with fury and red with grief. His throat rippled with effort. Eventually, he grit his teeth and looked down at his paws, chest shuddering with sobs, and sat down. Barleybee sat down next to him and pressed her head against his. 

“I… I can’t believe she’s gone,” he whispered between breaths. 

“I’m so sorry,” Barleybee pressed firm licks to his cheeks. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have to be this way.” Something about that caused him to break down even harder and he collapsed into her side. Barleybee wrapped her arms around his neck and eased him down to the ground. The two of them lay there, holding each other, and Barleybee tried to convince herself that, at the very least, if she couldn’t be there for Lakepaw it was good that she could be there for Floodstrike. 

The thought rang hollow and she spent the rest of the night thinking of what she could have done differently -- what she should have done differently. When they went back for the vigil, she whispered an apology to Lakepaw’s body. When they found white and dark tabby fur under Lakepaw’s claws, Barleybee knew exactly who was responsible but held off on telling Floodstrike. When they went to bed, she, Sparrowsway, and Oddstripe curled tightly around Floodstrike in a single nest, weary eyed and worn. 

Sardine would be held accountable for his atrocities, she vowed, knowing everyone else in camp had likely made the same vow.

[clangenrising]

AAAAA They're so sweet togetherrr!! Look at all the little hearts, aa this is so sweet thank you spotty!

My contribution to pride month on the last day don’t mind that and ALSO my first piece of proper @clangenrising fanart!!

My favorite aspec girlies <33 (with their emotional support tom cheering them on!)

[floofyboi57]

Their friendship means so much to me

Characters are Yarrowshade and Scorchplume, who belong to @clangenrising

[rosethorn-zz]

some more oc refs

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

also @ambitiousauthor inspired me so I'm going to give descriptions and would-be warrior names for all of Webstripe's kit victims:

Redflower x Darkfrost

Wolfkit: dark gray, almost black tom with an unusually long nose and yellow eyes (warrior name: Wolfnose)

Birchkit: cream tabby tom with amber eyes (warrior name: Birchleaf)

Reedkit: light ginger she-cat with yellow eyes (warrior name: Reedsong)

Briarclaw x Firefeather

Applekit: long-haired ginger she-cat with a white chest patch, white tail tip, and green eyes (warrior name: Appleflower)

Sootkit: long-haired dark gray tom with blue eyes (warrior name: Sootbreeze)

Beetlekit: dark brown tabby tom with yellow eyes (warrior name: Beetleblaze)

Thistletail/star x Sunnyheart:

Yarrowkit: long haired pale tortoiseshell she-cat with light green eyes (warrior name: Yarrowshade)

Dustkit: small gray tom with brown paws and amber eyes (warrior names: Duststep)

Larkkit: red tabby she-cat with amber eyes (warrior name: Larkwing)

These are all so good!!

f you Webstripe!!

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

“You’re sure about this?” asked Branchbark. 

“Yep.” 

Goldenstar nodded and tried to convince herself that she was entirely certain. Over the last week, she had met with the other leaders to organize a plan for the upcoming battle. They’d found a good spot in EarthClan’s territory for the meeting to occur. They’d plotted out hiding spots for all of their warriors and planned to accommodate whichever way the wind was blowing. Finally, the only thing left to do was to extend an invitation to Razor. 

It had been a difficult decision as to who she would bring with her. Obviously, she had to go personally. She had nine lives. If anyone was going to put themself in danger, it was going to be her. But going alone was ill advised. Sagetooth had returned from the most recent healers’ meeting with the guidance that she needed to take two cats with her if she wanted to succeed. She had been struggling to think of who it would be for a while now. 

Scorch and Aldertail were immediately disqualified from going back to the city. Bringing a healer wasn’t a good idea either given their lack of combat experience and she wasn’t willing to bring any of the apprentices either. Russetfrond was out too. If she disappeared the Clan needed a clear leader. So that had left her with Yarrowshade, Pantherhaze, Ospreymask, and Branchbark. Eventually, she had eliminated Ospreymask since the battle of the snowstorm had put a target on her back and she had decided against Pantherhaze to make sure Slatepaw didn’t lose another cat close to her.

She still wasn’t sure this was the right move. She wished that StarClan had been clearer about their instructions. She wished Scorchplume could come with her and give her advice. Still, this wasn’t the time to be indecisive. She straightened her posture and focused on the cats who were going to accompany her. 

“I need to bring two cats and it’s got to be you two,” she said. 

“Alright,” Branchbark said, sounding unconvinced but willing to take her choice on faith. 

“Thanks, Goldie,” Yarrowshade said. “It means a lot.” 

“Now remember what we discussed,” said Scorchplume, perched nearby. “Don’t show weakness but don’t be aggressive. Never let them corner you. When all else fails, fall back on superstition as your excuse.” 

“I know,” Goldenstar said with a smile. “I’ll be careful and come right back.” 

“You’d better,” Scorch snapped. “If you don't, I'm leaving Fogpaw without a mentor.” Goldenstar heard the worry under her playful threat and leaned in to rub her cheek against Scorch’s.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “This will be over before you know it.” 

After a beat of hesitation, Scorch returned the gesture, purring softly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

Goldenstar frowned ever so slightly but Scorch didn’t elaborate. Sighing, she turned her mind to business. The small group said their goodbyes and the Clan wished them good luck and they set off towards the city. They traveled mostly in silence which left Goldenstar with way too much time to think about how things could go wrong. 

What if they arrived and the city cats just didn’t let her leave? What if they were attacked on sight? What if Razor didn’t agree to a meeting? Scorch had of course guided her on how to avoid most of those problems. They weren’t going too close, staying where they could easily make a break for the territories. They were going to approach slowly and with friendly posture to avoid any unnecessary hostility. She was going to stress that she wanted to meet with Razor one on one to try and find peace. Things were planned out. So why was she so worried? 

They crossed the thunderpath as the sun neared its peak in the sky, the acrid stone blistering hot under their paws, and continued until a twoleg nest drew close in the field. Following Scorchplume’s instructions, they gave the nest a wide berth and settled into a path on the other side of a long thunderpath made of gravel. They padded along it until they started to smell cats on the wind.

“Getting close,” Yarrowshade mumbled, mouth open to the scent. 

“Alright,” Goldenstar nodded, confirming the smell for herself. “Remember, I’ll do the talking, just stand behind me and look strong but not aggressive, alright?” 

“Easier said than done,” Branchbark swallowed. 

“It’ll be alright,” Goldenstar said. “StarClan is with us.” She hoped they were, at least. 

After a bit more walking, they spotted a pair of cats strolling towards them on the other side of the thunderpath. Goldenstar raised her tail and started across after quickly checking to make sure there weren’t any monsters bearing down on them. The pair of cats stopped in their tracks and started whispering to each other while watching the Clan cats approach. 

“Hello there!” Goldenstar called in a way she hoped was regal. “I am Goldenstar, leader of the wild Clans. I’m looking to speak with a member of the Exalted.” She stopped a fox length away from them, Yarrowshade and Branchbark close behind her. She had to force herself not to look back at them to make sure they were sufficiently imposing. 

The cats before her were a pair of toms, both of them wearing collars with little charms on them. One was a ginger tabby with green eyes and a dark scowl on his face. He almost reminded her of Russetfrond except for the genuine malice in his eyes. The other was a brown tabby with a mask around his green-yellow eyes and a slim face. If Goldenstar didn’t know better, she would have thought he had been born a she-cat. 

The ginger tabby said, “Well, you’ve found some.” Yarrowshade bristled next to her.

The brown tabby cleared his throat and said, “Forgive my companion’s rudeness. It is an honor to speak with the illustrious Goldenstar face to face. How can we help you?” 

“I’ve come to deliver a message for Razor,” Goldenstar said. 

“Is that so?” the ginger tom shifted his posture by way of a threat. He opened his mouth to drink in their scents, looking down his muzzle at them. 

“Yes,” Goldenstar said, holding firm despite the nervous wriggling of her stomach. “I wish to discuss peace with him. In four days, at dawn, I will meet him in our woods in a place that is sacred to our people so that we can negotiate with the full support of our ancestors. He may bring a second but otherwise come alone. I will do the same.” The ginger tabby was glaring at her with eyes shrunken to slits. The brown tabby was barely restraining the look of elation on his face. 

“What a gracious invitation,” he purred. “I will go and convey the message to Razor at once. Uh, when the time comes, how will he know the spot to meet you?” 

“Cross the thunderpath where the pine tree's roots disturb the stones and head straight north from there,” she said, just like they had decided. “I’ll have my second wait on the edge of the forest to escort him.” 

“The thunderpath,” the little tom mused. “That’s the big stone path dividing our two lands, yes?” 

“Correct,” Goldenstar smiled. “I believe you call it a road?”

“We do indeed,” said the tom. “I will tell Razor at once. He will be most eager to meet you in four days time.” 

“Good,” purred Goldenstar, letting out a sigh of relief. “I look forward to it.” With that, she turned around and walked back across the gravel pathway, trying to convey confidence with every stride. She resisted the urge to look back but it seemed the others were not so strong. 

“They’re heading back to the city,” said Branchbark.

“Good,” Goldenstar said again. “I think they took the bait.” 

“I don’t like that tom,” Yarrowshade growled. “Something about him just… isn’t right.” Goldenstar twitched one ear in agreement.

“Do you think StarClan told us to bring three cats so they would be outnumbered?” Branchbark asked aloud. “Would they have attacked us if there were only two?”

Goldenstar looked over at him in surprise. “Maybe? I hadn’t even thought about that.” They had been so polite. It was baffling to think that one cat had made the difference.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Yarrowshade growled darkly. “Foxhearts, the lot of them.” 

Goldenstar shook her fur to dislodge the creeping unease settling into it. “Well, thank StarClan that’s done. Now we just have to win the battle.” 

“We will,” Branchbark said with surety. Goldenstar smiled and wished desperately that she had that unshakeable faith within her.

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Battle With Razor Pt 3

Yarrowshade had never felt more alive. 

His blood pounded in his ears and clumped in his fur and it felt amazing. Every wound he took felt like a sacred rite, each wound he dealt felt like justice - perfect, bloody red, lovely justice. 

“That’s for Nightfrost!” he spat as he sank his claws into a kittypet’s eye and heard them scream in pain. 

“That’s for Smokyrose!” he snarled as he got a few more shots on the notched cat that fled after he got them good in the belly. 

That’s for Scorch, he wanted to say but he still hadn’t caught sight of Razor. Without an opponent for the moment, he turned and searched the crowd for any sign of the figure. The tree trunks and tussling cats obstructed anything outside his immediate area though and he growled in frustration, tail lashing. 

A flash of nearby movement caught his eye - a brown tabby kittypet kicking off of a tree trunk and back into the fray, taking his opponent to the ground. Yarrowshade recognized him as the tom who had called him ‘pretty boy’, the tom who had beaten him bloody and thus stopped him from joining in on the battle of the snowstorm. Yarrowshade pounced without a second thought, tackling the tabby off of the cat who he was scrapping with and rolling with him into the dirt. 

The kittypet hissed and wheeled on him, smacking him hard across the cheek, adding another scratch to the bloody streaks patterning his face. Yarrowshade twisted and kicked out with his hind legs, knocking the wind out of the tom. They fell apart, gasping for breath and Yarrowshade glanced over his shoulder at the cat he had rescued. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Ryestripe of FallenClan, getting to his feet, bleeding heavily from a nasty bite on his hind leg. 

“Enough talking, pretty boy!” the kittypet shouted, lunging in again. Yarrowshade ducked down then reared up to slam his head into the kittypet’s chin like Russetfrond had done to him. He wasn’t expecting it to hurt, though, and both he and the kittypet fell backward hissing in pain. Thankfully, Ryestripe moved in to cover him, raining a quick volley of blows down on the kittypet’s head. 

Yarrowshade shook himself to gather his thoughts and then lunged to tackle the kittypet again. They collided in a satisfying thump of muscle against muscle that threw the kittypet onto his back. Yarrowshade crowed triumphantly and snapped his teeth at the tom’s neck. The tom writhed but that only gave Yarrowshade better access to his throat and he readjusted his grip to sink his teeth into flesh. 

The tom hissed and kicked out, shredding Yarrowshade’s soft belly with his hind claws, but Yarrowshade stayed firm. The taste of blood was almost as overwhelming as the stinging pain. He adjusted his grip one more time, sinking one tooth into a squishy spot under his chin. The tom gasped sharply, and kicked even harder.

“Stop!” gasped the kittypet. “Sto- stop!” Yarrowshade snarled and squeezed harder, turning the tom’s protests into nothing more than a strained wheeze. He wondered if Smokyrose had begged when she was killed. He wondered if this kittypet would have stopped if he were the one begging. 

“Stop it!” Barleypaw was suddenly beside him, shoving roughly against his shoulder. Yarrowshade, thrown off by his apprentice’s insistence, fell backward, looking around for whatever looming threat she was warning him of. There was none. The kittypet gasped for breath and there was a distinct wheezing sound as air bubbled out of the wound. Yarrowshade looked at Barleypaw to find her glaring at him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still confused. 

“A good warrior doesn’t kill to win his battles!” his apprentice said, sounding almost teary. “What’s gotten into you?” Yarrowshade wilted. If it had been anyone else, he would have shot back with some retort but he couldn’t muster the courage to snap at Barleypaw.

“I…” he licked the blood from his dripping muzzle and found nothing else to say. Barleypaw huffed and turned away to look down at the kittypet wheezing on the ground. He was struggling to breathe and hacking up blood every now and then, but he didn’t seem like he was going to fall over dead. 

Barleypaw bent down next to him and said sternly, “Go home.” 

The kittypet flinched away from her, sides heaving, but, when she made no moves to strike out at him, he nodded and scrambled away, dodging between scrapping cats as he hurried away. Yarrowshade let out a frustrated noise at the sight. 

“Barley, I know you mean well, but you don’t know what that cat is like,” he said. “If you’d heard the way he talked or-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Barleypaw snapped and he blinked in surprise. “He’s a living cat. You shouldn’t kill him if you have another choice.” She lifted her head and held his gaze defiantly, ready for him to protest further. He was struck very suddenly with the realization that his apprentice was all grown up. He didn’t know how to feel about that. 

“Look at you, you’re bleeding everywhere,” she said when he stayed silent. 

“I think we’re starting to outnumber the rogues,” said Ryestripe, who Yarrowshade had forgotten about entirely. “Looks like the Chaff are taking the deal.” 

“You should go see the healers,” Barleypaw said, more instruction than suggestion. “Get your belly looked at before you pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Yarrowshade insisted. He stepped forward to look around for another opponent but Barleypaw moved to forcibly intercept him. 

“Yarrowshade, please,” she said softly. 

He swallowed. “Well, how can I argue with that?” he laughed, feeling terrible. 

“I’ll make sure he gets there safely,” said Ryestripe.

“Thank you,” Barleypaw said to both of them. “I’m gonna go find Floodpaw.” And with that, she was gone. Yarrowshade sighed. He suddenly felt very tired - tired and old. 

“Hey, come on,” Ryestripe said. “You really are bleeding a lot.” 

“Oh, right,” was all Yarrowshade could say. He leaned against Ryestripe’s side and let the other cat guide him back through the woods to the place where the healers had set up their first aid station. It wasn’t far from the battle proper but the effort of winding around trees and over roots was exhausting.

Lionpaw was perched on a root, acting as sentry, and called, “Ryestripe and a wounded warrior, coming in!” over his shoulder as they approached. 

“Thank you, Lionpaw,” came Blazingbrush’s voice. As they trudged into the clearing, Yarrowshade looked around and tried to identify all the cats getting medical aid. Blazingbrush was spreading cobwebs over Tumblefang’s shoulder, a trail of blood running all the way down the warrior’s leg. Fishtrick was getting poultice applied to a long gash on her side. Darkmoon was laid out against a tree where Stormwhisper and Sagetooth were speaking to him.

“I know,” Stormwhisper was saying, “but you have to stay awake, alright?” 

“I’ll try,” said Darkmoon. 

“Keep talking with him,” Sagetooth ordered Stormwhisper before glancing over to frown at Yarrowshade. “Sit him down over there,” she said to Ryestripe, “I’ll grab the herbs.” 

“I’m fine, really,” Yarrowshade said as he plopped down against the designated trunk. 

“I’ll tell you when you’re fine,” Sagetooth snapped. Looking at Ryestripe, she asked, “are you injured?” 

“Not too bad, thanks to him,” said the other warrior. Yarrowshade flashed him a grateful smile. 

Sagetooth huffed affirmatively. “Alright. Go see Tangletooth then.” Ryestripe nodded and returned Yarrowshade’s smile before heading off to get his wounds seen too. Sagetooth started examining him, passing her paws over his fur and feeling at his wounds. When she got to his belly, she frowned and shouted, “Blazingbrush, where’s that yarrow at?” 

“Here!” the younger healer chimed, detaching from her Clanmate to run the clump of herbs over to them. “Oh my, that’s a nasty wound.” 

“Thanks,” Yarrowshade looked away, unenthused. 

“Sorry,” Blazingbrush said, cheeks turning pink. Sagetooth, already chewing the herbs in her mouth, swatted at Blazingbrush with her tail and the pretty young she-cat flitted bashfully back to Tumblefang. Sagetooth spat the poultice into her paws and Yarrowshade lifted one arm to let her thoroughly spread it over his wounds. 

“Don’t let that get wiped off,” Sagetooth ordered and then stood to find the cobwebs. Yarrowshade’s ears twitched in Darkmoon’s direction.

“-member that,” the EarthClan deputy was saying weakly. “Foxfuzz was furious with me.” 

“And she never knew it was actually my fault,” Stormwhisper laughed, sounding sad. “I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.” 

“Didn’t have to,” said Darkmoon. “You worked hard to make it right and that was enough.” 

Stormwhisper laughed again. “What about you? Did you ever do something that stupid?” 

“As stupid as collapsing an entire den?” wheezed Darkmoon. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, try and think,” Stormwhisper urged. “You have to keep talking.” Sagetooth returned with the cobwebs and started to apply them. 

Yarrowshade whispered, “What’s wrong with Darkmoon?” 

“A rogue broke a few of his ribs very badly,” muttered Sagetooth without looking up. “He’s been breathless and dizzy which are not good signs. He’s probably bleeding internally. I’d give him a few hours at most.” 

“Oh,” Yarrowshade swallowed. He hadn’t realized that was even a possibility. He wondered what would have happened if his ribs had been broken rather than bruised all those months ago. 

“Alright, done,” Sagetooth said. “Your other wounds can wait. Find somewhere out of the way and get some rest.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said obediently and stood with a wince. He didn’t want to rest. He wanted to go back and keep fighting, but the sound of Stormwhisper and Darkmoon’s conversation was dampening that urge more and more by the second. And besides, he was very, very tired. He slank around to the back side of the tree and nestled himself between the roots, eyes falling gently closed.

[clangenrising]

Month 15 - Newleaf

Scorchplume padded into camp in the early hours of dawn to find it entirely empty. She frowned, looking around at the swaying grass, and wondered where everyone had gone. Her stomach twisted nervously. Had they decided to move on without her? 

She poked her head into Goldenstar’s den and found it empty. She tried the healers’ den and found Sagetooth organizing herbs in the back of the den, humming to herself. Scorchplume stepped up beside her and watched the herbs as they sorted themselves into the various storage nooks, mesmerized by their fluid movements. 

“Where is everyone?” she asked. 

Sagetooth twitched her ear and said, “In the nursery. Didn’t you hear?” 

“No, I hadn’t,” said Scorch. 

“Well, they’ve been waiting for a while, you should hurry up.” 

“Oh,” Scorch frowned. How could she have forgotten? “Alright.” She stepped out of the healers’ den and directly into the nursery where Mystique sat curled around five squirming kittens. Beside her, sat Razor, who looked up as Scorchplume entered and smiled in an unnervingly kind manner. 

“There you are,” he purred. “Come on, we’ve been waiting for you.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said instinctively. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She stepped up close and settled beside him, tail curled tightly around her paws. 

“Oh, not at all,” he said, leaning against her shoulder and wrapping his tail around her back. “Aren’t they beautiful?” Scorch lifted a brow and looked down at the kittens, each one a ghostly white tabby. She had never cared much for kits and these ones weren’t exceptional in any way. 

She shrugged. “I guess? All kits just look weird to me.” 

“Don’t say that,” Razor smiled and, despite his completely innocent tone, something unpleasant spiked inside her. “You know, I was thinking, since Mystique doesn’t want to keep them, maybe you and I could raise them.” They were sitting in the corner of his garden and the wind rustled the leaves of the bushes like the sound of birds chattering an alarm. 

“Don’t you want them?” asked Razor. 

“Don’t you want them?” asked Mystique.

“Don’t you want them?” asked Goldenstar, sitting in Razor’s place.

Scorchplume snapped awake, paw pads clammy with sweat. Her fur clung suffocatingly to her sides, trapping the heat of her own fear against her body. Beside her, Goldenstar stirred, disturbed by her sudden movement and heavy breathing. 

“Hey,” she said, voice bleary with sleep, “what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Scorchplume lied, “Go back to sleep, you moron.” Goldenstar squinted in concern and shifted to lay on her side so she could face Scorchplume more fully. 

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me but you can if you want.” Scorch felt some emotion squirming within her throat. 

“I’m fine, really,” she laughed convincingly. “I just need to make waste. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Goldenstar said, sounding unsure but incredibly sleepy, and settled back into the nest with a yawn. Scorch didn’t know what to do with the fondness that image invoked in her so she left it behind like a lump on the ground as she slipped out of the den and into the night. 

Yarrowshade sat outside the elders’ den on guard duty. Fogpaw and Slatepaw were starting to fall asleep over their meal. Barleybee and Aldertail were just returning to camp with new fresh-kill. 

Scorch watched how the two hunters laughed easily, whispering a shared joke. Aldertail smiled and glanced away and her eyes fell on Scorch and the smile faded into a look of mild surprise. Scorch swallowed. Aldertail smiled again, this time with her brows pushing together into an uncertain furrow, and raised one paw in greeting. 

The gesture was not lost on Scorch. This must have been the first time Aldertail had held her gaze. She swallowed again, tightly, and turned away, skulking off into the grass to do her business. When she came back to camp, the only cat left outside was Yarrowshade. He looked up at her as she passed and offered her a casual smile. 

“Hey,” he asked, “how’s it going?” 

“Alright,” she shrugged, padding closer. “I’m guessing you’re bored out of your mind?” 

“So bored,” he groaned. “Guard duty is the worst. Mind sitting with me for a while?” 

Scorch hesitated. She could easily say no. It wasn’t like sitting on guard duty was any more appealing to her than it was to him. But she could still taste that strange emotion and as long as the taste was in her mouth, she wasn’t eager to go back to the den. 

“I suppose so,” she shrugged again and sat down next to him. She glanced over his shoulder into the darkness where Mystique lay, and said, “How has she been lately?”

“Sulky,” Yarrowshade whispered. “She doesn’t do much but eat and sleep these days.”

“I guess that’s pregnancy for you,” said Scorhcplume. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Or she’s still hung up on Raz- uh.” He stopped himself halfway through the name. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Scorch lashed her tail a bit. “I’m so sick of people walking on eggshells around me.” 

“I get that,” Yarrowshade sighed. “It was the same kind of thing when, uh,” he looked like he was about to censor himself again but her expression seemed to make him think twice, “when Nightfrost died.” Despite continuing, his voice was softer than it had been. Scorch pushed down the wave of jealousy that reverent tone resurfaced within her. She hated how clearly upset he still was and she hated herself for hating him for his grief. 

Yarrowshade, unaware of the conflict inside her, continued. “It’s like, I get that they’re trying to be nice but being handled with kitten paws is so annoying. Like, I’m a grown cat, not a little baby.” 

“Exactly,” Scorchplume found herself agreeing with him. “I hate how any sign of discomfort brings out a series of guilty looks and ‘are you okay’s. It’s demeaning!” 

“Yeah,” nodded Yarrowshade, smiling a little. “Why can’t they just let us bury our emotions deep, deep down where no one will ever find them?” They both laughed and then fell into a somber quiet, looking at their paws. Scorchplume took a slow breath and let it out with a huff as she glanced sideways at him. There was a longing between them, a desire for connection she was too broken to indulge. 

“I had a dream that Razor wanted to keep Mystique’s kittens,” she confessed in a half-hearted attempt to indulge it anyway. “Like, we would raise them together.” 

“Oh, gross,” Yarrowshade frowned. “That sucks, man, I’m sorry.” 

“It was pretty sucky,” she nodded. “I barely remember it now but he was just so… sweet. It was, like, really unsettling, you know? Like, I thought for a second, did I imagine everything?” She shuddered. As impossible as that was, the thought still terrified her. 

“You super didn’t,” Yarrowshade said. “I only met the guy once but he was the worst. The way he spoke to Nightfrost made me want to cut my own ears off.” 

Scorch let out a breath with the tone of a laugh. “Yeah. Good riddance.” She ruffled her fur, trying to shake off the feeling of his nose on the back of her neck. She wondered if she would ever be able to escape the lingering ghost of his touch and realized a second too late that tears were starting to fall down her cheeks. She glanced sharply at Yarrowshade, tensing for the unbearable sympathy she knew was coming. 

Yarrowshade’s mouth was drawn into a thin line as he watched her but he didn’t say anything. He just sighed and leaned over to rest his head on top of hers, looking out over the camp as if they were just enjoying the night air. Scorchplume sobbed and leaned into him, overwhelmed with gratitude and misery at the same time. Yarrowshade laid his tail over hers. 

The evening was cold against her cheeks, quiet, and still. Distantly, an owl called in the night. Scorchplume thanked whatever higher power there was, StarClan maybe, for the fact that she hadn’t managed to drive Yarrowshade away. What would she have done if they still weren’t speaking to each other? She closed her eyes and sniffled and focused on the sensation of her tears evaporating, contrasted by the warmth of his fur against her side. 

“Do…” she started, unsure where she was going. “Do you ever wonder what Goldie sees in you?” Yarrowshade shifted and swallowed. 

He was quiet for a long beat before he whispered back, “All the time.” 

“Me too,” she breathed. “I don’t deserve her.” 

“I know how you feel,” he said and she heard the truth of it in his voice. 

“I don’t deserve you,” she said, chest shaking with an almost sob. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking down at her. Under his gaze, she suddenly felt small and exposed and ugly to her core. 

“I was so cruel to you -” she said, unable to look at him, “I’m so cruel to everyone - but you don’t seem to mind! Why do you still care about me?” 

“I don’t know,” Yarrowshade swallowed, his voice sounding thick with something. “I just do. I don’t think we get to choose that kind of thing.” 

“Well you shouldn’t,” she huffed. “I’m just a leech. Sooner or later I’ll suck you dry and you’ll hate me.” 

“Yeah, right,” he rolled his eyes and she looked up to scowl at him. “Look, we’re all just trying to do what we think is right or best or whatever. I’ve made a lot of mistakes too. People still care about me even if I don’t know why. That’s just… what it’s like to be feline I guess.” 

Scorch sniffed pathetically and said, “Well, being feline sucks.” 

“That’s for sure,” he nodded. “But we are what we are. Might as well keep doing what makes us happy even if it doesn’t make any sense.” Scorch hummed reluctantly. She could see the logic in his point but it didn’t make it easier. 

“I guess,” she shrugged. Inside the elders’ den, Mystique shifted, bell jingling gently, and Scorch’s entire body tensed. She looked over her shoulder, worried she had been overheard, but Mystique’s eyes were closed and her swollen sides heaved evenly with her breath. Scorchplume sighed. 

“Why don’t you go back to bed,” said Yarrowshade. 

“Yeah…” Scorch groaned reluctantly. “I should.” 

“Maybe we can go hunting when I’m off duty,” he suggested with a casual shrug. 

“Yeah, maybe,” she stood and settled her fur. “We’ll see.” 

“Goodnight, Scorch,” he said with a little smile.

“Goodnight, dummy,” smiled Scorchplume. He grinned wider and she chuckled a little as she turned and headed back to Goldenstar’s den. As she settled back into the nest, Goldenstar stirred again and, upon finding Scorch beside her, hummed blissfully and wrapped her arms around Scorchplume’s neck. Scorch rolled her eyes and let herself be pulled into a cozy embrace. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on sleep, and with Goldenstar wrapped around her, she quickly dozed off again, this time into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

[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.”

[clangenrising]

Month 9 - Leaffall

Floodpaw stood up to his full height to peer over the grass. “I hope we see a rogue,” he said, straining his eyes to pick up any cats that might be encroaching on their borders. “I want to try out those new fighting tricks we learned.” Beside him, Barleypaw made an anxious noise in her throat and Sparrowpaw frowned.

“You shouldn’t want to get into a fight, Floodpaw. Good warriors hope for peace.” 

“Who told you that?” Floodpaw snorted, looking at his brother.

“Russetfrond,” Sparrowpaw lifted his head in a way that made Floodpaw want to smack him. Since when had he been such a golden boy?

“We’re warriors,” he countered, “not Peace-iors.” 

“War isn’t glamorous, Floodpaw,” Yarrowshade said, padding up from behind them. “We prepare for war because we have to but we should always try and avoid it when we can.” 

“I guess,” Floodpaw grumbled. Having marked the border up ahead, Goldenstar raised her tail to beckon them to join her and Russetfrond. 

“Come on,” said Yarrowshade, “we don’t want to get too far from the others.” 

“Okay!” Sparrowpaw smiled, bounding after his mentor. Floodpaw rolled his eyes and followed at a more casual pace. Yarrowshade curled his tail over Barleypaw’s back as they went and she leaned against his leg, purring lightly. 

She had told Floodpaw how much she liked having Yarrowshade as a mentor but Floodpaw didn’t get it. All they did was hunt all day and he was always being goofy and wrong and stuff. Floodpaw was glad she was happy but even more glad that Yarrowshade wasn’t his mentor. He’d hoped, on their ceremony day, that Russetfrond would be his mentor, and while he still looked up to the big ginger a lot, he had realized that Russetfrond was really strict. Sparrowpaw didn’t mind - he was always talking about how happy he was to check the elders for ticks or clean out the dens - but Floodpaw was again grateful that he didn’t have to put up with so many chores and exercises. 

In his opinion, Goldenstar was the best mentor he could have been given. She was smart, funny, and knew a lot about fighting. When they would train together, she was always really good about showing him how to do things without making him feel stupid like Russetfrond sometimes did, and she was a lot more easy going when it came to his chores. Yeah, Floodpaw was pretty sure he was the luckiest cat in the Clan, maybe the world.

The only thing that would make him even luckier is if he got to have a battle with a real live rogue. 

“Come on,” Goldenstar said when they approached, “We’ve got a lot of border to cover.” 

“Goldenstar,” asked Floodpaw, “do you think we’ll see any rogues today?”

“Let’s hope not,” she laughed, ears pressing back a bit. 

“But why though?” he frowned. “Shouldn’t we want to show them they can’t mess with our territory?” 

“Sure,” she said, leading the way through the fields of dry, dull grass, “But I’d rather do that with a patrol of warriors than three brand new apprentices.” Floodpaw frowned harder.

“Do you not think I’m a good fighter?” he asked. “I thought you said I had a knack for it.” 

“It’s not about knack,” Russetfrond said gruffly, “it’s about experience. No matter how talented you are, a cat with more experience will best you in a fight.” 

“You don’t know that,” Floodpaw retorted. 

“I do, actually,” Russetfrond growled. 

“Trust us, kid,” Goldenstar smiled. “You’ve got a long way to go.” Floodpaw glowered, hunching his shoulders, and stomped along behind them. 

“What would we do if we did run into rogues?” Sparrowpaw asked brightly.

“Good question,” said Goldenstar. “Russetfrond, Yarrowshade, and I would handle it while you went back to camp for help.” 

“Really?” Floodpaw griped, “Wouldn’t it be better if only one of us went for help and the others stayed to fight?” 

“Maybe,” Yarrowshade shrugged, “but it’s more important that all of you stay safe.” 

“And even more important that you listen and do what you’re told,” Russetfrond growled, causing Yarrowshade to side eye him. “There’s no time to argue in a fight. You listen to your mentor and that’s that.” 

“Ugh,” Floodpaw groaned.

“Watch your tone,” snapped Russetfrond.

Goldenstar flicked her tail and said, “Alright, ease up, Russetfrond.” The warrior grumbled to himself but said nothing else and Floodpaw smirked, raising his head triumphantly. He loved that his mentor could tell anyone to leave him alone and they had to listen. 

The rest of the patrol was dull and monotonous. They stopped every few meters to mark the border with their scent and Goldenstar took the time to show them how to know what scents were theirs and which scents belonged to other Clans. At one point, Yarrowshade stopped to show them a ground squirrel burrow. Barleypaw was enthralled by it but Floodpaw just kept hoping a gang of rogues would spring out of the grass and surprise them. 

Eventually, they neared the Thunderpath, and the group fell silent, intent on listening and watching for threats. The tension in the air was palpable. It was kind of frightening to Floodpaw to see the adults acting so seriously, but also exciting. Every time they paused to mark a border, one of the adults stood up tall to keep watch on rotation. Floodpaw tried to join them, perking his big ears towards the city, but he was still too small to comfortably see over the grass.

At one point, Russetfrond bent to check a scent marker and his lip curled in a snarl. “Goldie,” he said sharply, “Strangers.” Goldenstar, who had been on watch, glanced at Yarrowshade and he took her place so she could inspect the strange scent. Floodpaw leaned closer to catch a smell of it too. It was acrid and thick, stinging his nose and clinging to the roof of his mouth like an unwelcome guest. 

“Eugh,” he muttered, pulling away. Goldenstar trailed the scent a bit, following it back and forth where it crossed the border, before standing up tall, jaw set grimly.

“A few cats,” she said, “They went deeper into the territory.” Lifting her head, she looked after the scent trail with a frown. 

“Should we run back to camp?” Barleypaw asked, voice soft with fright. Goldenstar considered it with a thoughtful hum. Floodpaw followed her gaze, marking the angle the trespassers had been going and comparing that to the angle they would have to follow back to camp. If the path followed a straight line, they shouldn’t run into each other.

“Yeah, I think so,” Goldenstar said, glancing between Russetfrond and Yarrowshade. Both toms nodded, resolute in what needed to be done. Floodpaw’s heart sank. 

“Go quickly but quietly,” she continued. “Find Nightfrost and follow her instructions.” 

“I should go with you guys,” Floodpaw said, stepping forward. “Sparrowpaw and Barleypaw can handle delivering a message by themselves, I’ll help you guys find the-” 

“No,” Goldenstar interrupted firmly and Floodpaw recoiled. This was the first time she had outright told him no like that. He didn’t like it.

“There’s no time for arguing,” Russetfrond said again. “Get going.”

“This is important,” added Yarrowshade. “It might not feel like it, but we need you to do this for us.”

Goldenstar nodded, putting on a smile that felt far too condescending. “We’re counting on you three.” 

“Come on,” Sparrowpaw grinned determinedly. “Let’s go get Nightfrost!” Barleypaw nodded with a small affirmative grunt. Floodpaw, still staring at Goldenstar, realized there was nothing he could do, and lowered his head with a sigh.

“Fine.” 

The three of them took off, slinking through the grass with Sparrowpaw in the lead, winding their way over the hills towards camp. The route was clear and easy and they made good time, but Floodpaw couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder every so often.

He sighed again, absolutely dejected. “I can’t believe they’re gonna fight rogues and we don’t get to be there.” 

“I don’t want to be there!” Barleypaw squeaked. “If they think it’s too dangerous we should trust them!”

“You’re just a coward,” he huffed. 

“A-am not!” she protested weakly. 

“Are too!” he pushed back. “What good are your stupid ‘magic feathers’ if you get scared of everything anyway?” 

“Hey!” she cried, clearly hurt, and Floodpaw knew he was going to feel bad later. 

“Stop it,” Sparrowpaw glared at him. “A good warrior follows his leader. This is important training. Besides, you’re too mean to Barleypaw.” 

“Am not!” Floodpaw hissed. 

“You are!” insisted Sparrowpaw. “You shouldn’t be so hard on your Clanmates. We should be helping each other!”

“Exactly!” Floodpaw cried, “That’s why we should be helping Goldenstar instead of running back to camp with our tails between our legs!” 

“We are helping!” groaned Sparrowpaw. 

“Guys, we’re supposed to be quiet,” whined Barleypaw. 

“You’re just scared they’ll find us,” Floodpaw growled. “But not me! I hope they find us! I can’t wait to tear their stupid ears off.” 

“What do we have here?” a voice ahead of them and to the east caused all three apprentices to skid to a halt. Floodpaw felt his gut twist in shame. They’d been so busy arguing they hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings. 

Stepping out of the grass was a sable pelted tom with a perfectly notched ear, like Aldertail’s. He had a plethora of scars, especially over his muzzle, including one that ran over one of his dark blue eyes. Behind him, two more cats emerged. The first was a white she-cat with speckled ears and a gloomy look in her crusty green eyes and the second was a thin blue and white she-cat with copper eyes that darted here and there anxiously. Both of them had matching ear notches - city cats.

“I told you I heard something!” chattered the blue one reedily. 

“Quiet, Midge!” the tom snapped at her, causing her to shrink back into a trembling ball. Floodpaw felt Barleypaw press tightly against him, shaking herself. He did his best to square his shoulders and look unintimidated.

“They’re kits,” the white one said dully. 

“No we’re not!” Floodpaw said, and the tom’s eyes snapped to him in a way that made his stomach squirm like a pinned mouse. Despite that, he continued. “We’re warrior apprentices and we’re not afraid of you!” 

“Oh, ho, ho,” the tom chuckled wryly, “they’re warrior apprentices.” 

“Ohhh,” the blue one laughed nervously, eyes on the tom.

“Only apprentices?” the white one asked. “So not real warriors then.” 

“Maybe,” Floodpaw puffed his chest up, “but we’re still stronger than you are!”

Sparrowpaw shifted worriedly and hissed, “Shut up!” under his breath. 

“He’s got spunk!” the tom sneered, starting to circle the apprentices. Barleypaw flattened herself against the ground and Floodpaw stood as tall as he could, turning to face the tom as he went. Meanwhile, Sparrowpaw crouched lowly, watching the other cats while Floodpaw’s back was turned on them. The tom grinned at Floodpaw, tilting his head as he continued, “I wonder what the Folk would think of him?” 

“Focus, Van Pelt,” growled the white cat, and his smile turned to a snarling glare in a split second as he turned his gaze on her. 

“Watch it, bitch,” he hissed, pelt prickling. “Ghost put me in charge, remember?” 

“Ghost?” Sparrowpaw breathed in shock.

The white cat rolled her eyes, unphased, and said, “We’re looking for a cat who came this way a few days ago, a brown spotted tabby with a notched ear.” She gestured to her own ear with a paw. 

“Yeah,” the tom said, grinning again, “you kiddies wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?” 

“No,” Sparrowpaw said carefully, and Floodpaw nodded in agreement. 

“We’ve never seen her in our lives,” he added.

“Really?” The tom circled closer and Floodpaw stumbled over Barleypaw in his attempt to keep turning with him. The tom took the opportunity to lunge forward, teeth snapping, and Barleypaw screamed, Floodpaw toppling over her as he tried to pull backwards. The tom laughed, a harsh and ugly laugh that Floodpaw had never heard before and hoped he never heard again. He hurried to his feet again, dread creeping through his pelt. 

“Stop it!” Sparrowpaw cried, his fluffy coat bushing up.

“Stop it,” mocked the tom in a whiny voice. Looking back to his companions, he asked, “Aren’t they just the cutest?” 

“They don’t know where she is,” fretted the blue one, “let’s just leave them and move on, ‘kay?” 

“I’m inclined to agree,” the white one droned. “We’re wasting our time here.” 

“I dunno…” drawled the tom with a shrug, “I think they know more than they’re letting on.” He stepped in to loom over them, back arching aggressively. “Maybe a good swipe or two might jog their memory.” 

Floodpaw raised himself up on his tiptoes to be as big as he possibly could, spitting with what he hoped was enough ferocity to give the tom some pause. “Touch us and I’ll tear your ugly pelt off!” he hissed. 

The tom shook his head with a sneer, then snapped, “You need to learn some manners, kid!” punctuating the word with a swipe that staggered Floodpaw and left him reeling. A hot droplet of blood started to well up from a small knick in Floodpaw’s cheek. Barleypaw screamed again and the tom rounded on her, snarling, “Quiet! You kits have to learn there are consequences to your actions.” 

Fury welled up inside Floodpaw and he shoved himself to his feet. “Leave her alone!” he shouted and leapt at the tom like Goldenstar had taught him. His claws found purchase in the tom’s thick, grimy pelt and he cried out in pain, rearing away. Floodpaw pushed his advantage, lashing out at the rogue with quick, sharp strikes. His blood pounded in his ears as every part of him began to sing with the thrill of battle. 

The tom swiped at him a few times, falling back under the torrent of swipes. Distantly, Floodpaw heard the white cat chuckle to herself. The tom snarled at the noise, dug in his heels, and lunged for Floodpaw with his teeth bared. Floodpaw knew he wasn’t fast enough to dodge. Instead, he bunched his muscles and flowed with the movement of the tom’s tackle, using his momentum to flip them both end over end. Twisting and clawing, he yowled, and Sparrowpaw’s eyes lit up.

“Help!” Sparrowpaw cried as loudly as he could. Barleypaw caught on and joined him. “Help! Help!” they wailed. 

The white one frowned and stepped forward. “Enough of that,” she said, but neither of them stopped their shouting. 

Floodpaw and the tom split apart, panting, and the tom hissed over, “Would you shut those kits up already?” 

“What do you think I’m doing?” she snapped back at him. Floodpaw’s tail lashed and he sprang again, catching the tom off guard. Lunging for the throat, he eagerly sank his teeth into the tom, expecting to taste a gush of blood, but found himself holding a fold of loose skin instead. The tom wrapped his paws around Floodpaw and twisted, taking them both to the ground, and sank his own teeth into Floodpaw’s shoulder. Floodpaw yowled in pain and struggled to break free. The pain sobered him up and he felt sudden fear spike through him. Goldenstar had been right. He wasn’t ready. 

“Pipe down right now!” growled the white one, “Or else!” 

“Tad!” keened the blue one, “Company!” Floodpaw heard it too, the sound of paws pounding in their direction. With a furious yowl, Russetfrond burst from the grass and crashed into the tom pinning Floodpaw. His teeth found the brown cat’s unmarked ear and tore, spattering blood over Floodpaw’s face. The tom rolled away in lieu of holding onto Floodpaw, leaving him free to climb to his paws again. Russetfrond roared, bashing the tom over the head with his heavy paws, beating the slight brown tom back with every blow. 

Goldenstar charged out of the grass as well and she and the white she-cat tussled for a moment before breaking apart to glare at each other. Goldenstar’s tail tip twitched threateningly as she bared her teeth at the two female rogues. Yarrowshade followed closely behind, stopping beside Floodpaw to look him over.

“Are you alright?” he asked, licking Floodpaw’s wounded shoulder. 

“I’m great,” Floodpaw smiled, pupils blown wide in excitement. 

“Yarrowshade!” whimpered Barleypaw, hurrying to hide under her mentor’s belly. 

“It’s alright,” he said, “We’ve got you now.” 

Russetfrond and the tom broke apart finally and stopped, glaring at each other. The group came to a temporary standstill, silence hanging heavily in the air. 

“You are not welcome here!” Goldenstar boomed. “This is RisingClan territory and we will not tolerate an attack like this.”

“I knew there were savages out here,” the tom panted with a manic grin, “but I didn’t expect such a brute.” Russetfrond snarled and edged closer, an unspoken warning. 

“Ignore him,” the white cat said, crouching low. “We’re just looking for one of our own who came this way, a spotted tabby named Scrap. If you tell us what you know about her, we’ll be on our way.” 

“You’ll be on your way now,” Goldenstar snarled. “Consider yourself lucky I don’t take what’s left of your ears for harming our apprentices.” 

“Thank you,” the blue one spoke up. “We’re undeserving of such mercy. We’ll leave right away.” She glanced at the other two, urging them to agree with her eyes. The white one nodded and backed away a bit. 

“Yes, thank you for your kindness,” she said guardedly. The tom growled and lashed his tail, casting a spiteful glance at his companions, before he wordlessly stepped away and joined them. 

“Don’t let me catch you in our territory again,” hissed Goldenstar. 

“You won’t,” the white one promised. Something in the tom’s backward glance gave Floodpaw the feeling that wouldn’t be the case. 

Once the group had slunk out of earshot, Goldenstar looked at Russetfrond and said, “Make sure they leave the territory. I’ll send someone to check in with you once we get back to camp.” Russetfrond nodded and headed after them, although not before he gave a sideways glance at Sparrowpaw. The apprentice shrank a bit, looking guilty. 

“Come on,” Goldenstar said to the rest of them, “Let’s go back to camp.” 

“Are we in trouble?” Barleypaw asked from under Yarrowshade, big ears pinned backwards.

“No,” Goldenstar sighed. “In fact, I owe you all an apology. I put you in danger and that’s my fault.”

“It’s okay,” Sparrowpaw said, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t have been arguing so loud in the first place.” 

“Did you see how I fought him?” Floodpaw asked eagerly, moving to keep pace with Goldenstar.

She looked down at him and smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I did. That was very brave of you, Floodpaw.” 

“I didn’t start it, y’know,” he said. “He hit me first.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said genuinely. “It’s good that you know not to start fights you can’t win.” 

“But you guys won,” he grinned, still floating on adrenaline. “That was awesome! You and Russetfrond are so cool!” 

“Thanks, kid,” she chuckled. “Now come on, let’s get your dad to look at your shoulder.

[clangenrising]

Month 13 - Newleaf

Russetfrond sat perched at the top of the cornerstones, tail tip twitching slightly. He watched as Mystique and Yarrowshade crept through the foliage on opposite sides of a pair of squirrels. More accurately, he watched Mystique with a hawk eyed glare. At Goldenstar’s insistence, she had started joining hunting patrols over the last few days and he was there for every one of them. He didn’t trust anyone else to keep an eye on her. 

She moved softly through the undergrowth, somehow managing not to cause a single noise from her bell collar, her long blue coat brushing just above the leaves. She stopped a couple fox-lengths away from the squirrels and waited for Yarrowshade to move into place and, as she did, she cast her gaze up to Russetfrond. He scowled and she smiled and his scowl deepened. He wished she would stop smiling at him all the time. As if she could read his thoughts, she smirked and shook her head. 

Yarrowshade had moved into position. Mystique wiggled her haunches and then lunged forward, scuffing her paws noisily through the pine needles and leaf litter, a laugh burbling up from her chest. The squirrels panicked and fled straight into Yarrowshade’s waiting claws. He pounced on the smaller of them and snapped its neck in his teeth. The other squirrel veered off course and raced up a nearby tee. Mystique bounded after it and her paws were on the trunk when Russetfrond spoke up.

“Leave it,” he ordered. 

“Oh, come on…” she complained, tearing her claws down the bark. “I could have caught it!”

“Exactly,” he frowned. “You still don’t get it.” 

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, “I forgot there were a bunch of arbitrary rules about what prey you can and can't catch.” She sharpened her claws on the tree trunk for another second or two and then pushed off the trunk with a huff. 

“It’s not arbitrary,” Yarrowshade said. “We’re trying to preserve next year’s hunt. If we killed every squirrel we found there would be no squirrels next year and we’d all starve.” 

“Okay, but why not catch the fat one?” Mystique said. “Won’t that feed more cats?” 

“It was probably pregnant,” he shrugged, licking prey blood from his lips. “It’s that time of year. We let it go, that means more squirrels later on.” 

“I guess I see your point,” sighed the kittypet. Russetfrond huffed to himself and she looked up at him, nose scrunched petulantly. She even stuck her tongue out. He lashed his tail, hoping he had managed to come off as irritated rather than flustered. He hated how she got under his skin like that, especially with such childish behavior. 

“I think we’ve got a pretty good catch,” Yarrowshade said, unaware as usual. “Why don’t you grab the bird you caught earlier and we can head back.” 

“Aww, I wanna stay out,” she said. “The camp is so stuffy!” 

“Too bad,” said Russetfrond. He rose and bounded down the sloping side of the Cornerstones. The rough, mossy stone felt comforting under his paws and he imagined himself leaving a Gathering like this, leader of his Clan descending from the place of highest honor, walking in his mother’s pawsteps. It was a comforting fantasy, off put somewhat by coming down to be face to face with Mystique. 

“Come on, please?” she asked.

“Does that work on cats in the city?” he scowled back. 

“Sometimes,” she pressed her ears back against her head. 

“Just grab your damn bird,” he sighed. Yarrowshade was already heading off towards the border and he didn’t want them to fall too far behind. Mystique gave a beleaguered groan but went and fetched the bird from where they had stashed it without further complaint. 

They padded through the trees in silence until they reached the outskirts where the trees started to thin. The river stretched out in front of them. It was deep and fast near the SkyClan border but widened and grew shallow as it flowed towards EarthClan. Mystique brightened when she saw it, like she did every time, and her tail started to wave above her back.

“Ooh, maybe we could take a swim?” she suggested.

“Uh, no thanks,” Yarrowshade laughed. 

Mystique leaned in to bump her shoulders against his. “What, you afraid of a little water, Yare Bear?” Russetfrond grimaced. 

“I’m not afraid,” said Yarrowshade, fur puffing up. “I just don’t like getting wet.”

“What are you talking about?” Mystique said. “Getting wet is the best feeling in the world.” Russetfrond couldn’t help but huff a little laugh through his nose at the phrasing. Mystique glanced over at him and smirked. “See, Bee Face gets it.” 

“Don’t include me in this,” he said, a touch of humor still lingering. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about that.” 

Mystique laughed, loud and bright. “Wow! Big self-own from Bee Face.” 

Yarrowshade looked puzzled. “W- Oh, stars, are you two flirting?” He rolled his eyes. Both Russetfrond and Mystique turned to scowl at him. 

“No,” snapped Russetfrond. 

“Gross,” said Mystique. 

“And besides,” continued Russetfrond, “if we were, you’re the last person who gets to complain. I can’t count the times I’ve had to suffer through your painful attempts at flirtation.” Yarrowshade bristled sourly. 

“Ooh!” Mystique’s gaze sharpened with interest. “Are you a little Romeo, Yare Bear?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Yarrowshade said, casting his face away uncomfortably. 

“What, Romeo or Yare Bear?” Mystique asked. 

“All of it,” Yarrowshade grumbled. “It’s weird.” 

“I dunno,” hummed Russetfrond, “I think it’s growing on me. Maybe I’ll start calling you Yare Bear.” Mystique chortled. 

“Ew,” Yarrowshade grimaced like he’d stepped in crowfood, “Stop it, man.” 

“Stop what, Yare Bear?” smiled Russetfrond. 

“Yeah, what’s wrong, Yare Bear?” asked Mystique, poorly hiding her laughter. 

“I’m serious!” Yarrowshade hissed, “Stop it!” He sounded so much like a whiny apprentice that Russetfrond couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Oh, come on,” he said, “have a thicker hide than that.” 

“Yeah, we’re just poking fun,” said Mystique. 

“Whatever,” Yarrowshade scowled, his tail lashing. They reached the river shore and Yarrowshade angrily leapt to the first of the mossy crossing stones they had used on their way over. When he jumped to the next, his paw slid off of the slick moss and the river drenched his back half as he scrambled not to fall in entirely. Mystique fell over cackling and Russetfrond bit his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. Her laughter was infectious even without the added hilarity of Yarrowshade’s predicament. 

Yarrowshade turned back, fur fluffed up in all directions except where it clung wetly to his skin, cheeks bright red in embarrassment. He seemed to growl tightly around the squirrel in his jaws. Silently fuming, he turned and quickly finished crossing, then dashed off into the grass without them. 

“Wait!” Russetfrond tried but he couldn’t stop the laughter tinging his voice and he knew that Yarrowshade was long gone. He sighed, shook his head, and looked over to Mystique who had rolled onto her back, overwhelmed by her own laughter. The bird lay beside her, forgotten. 

“What a dork!” she snorted. “Is he always like that?” 

“Pretty much,” Russetfrond said. 

“Man, it’s almost too easy!” She stood up and stepped into the river, ignoring the crossing stones. 

“Hey, don’t forget your catch,” Russetfrond’s scowl returned. 

“I’ll grab it in a minute,” she said, wading deeper into the river. “I wanna cool off for a sec.” 

“We’re going back to camp,” he said stubbornly. “Stop fooling around.” 

“Oh, you like it when I fool around,” she scoffed. 

“I do not,” he puffed up slightly with indignation. 

“Do too,” she said back. By now she was sinking into the river to douse her back. 

“Ah, the pinnacle of eloquence,” he droned sarcastically. 

“You know it,” she purred. She dunked her head under the water briefly and tossed it back, sending glittery droplets flying in a perfect arc. Russetfrond was ashamed at the way his throat tightened. 

“Get out,” he snapped, “We’re going back to camp now.” 

“Make me,” she smirked, looking over at him. He stared, dumbfounded. Was she really going to risk injury or getting banned from patrols over a few minutes in a river? Her grin only widened at his reaction. “You can’t, can you?” 

“Of course I can,” he said, leaping to the first of the crossing stones. 

“Yeah?” she challenged, silky fur swirling around her as she turned to face him. “I bet you can’t.” 

Russetfrond shifted his weight to make sure he was steady on his stepping stone before he tried to reach out and snag her by the scruff. She dipped into the water and let it carry her backwards, out of his reach. 

“Nuh-uh-uh,” she clucked, “You’re gonna have to get wet if you wanna stop me.” He growled one paw held to his chest as he considered her words. It looked like she was right. He didn’t enjoy getting wet but he didn’t hate it either, it was the aftermath that he hated, the chilly evaporation and the hours of grooming. Still, he wasn’t one to shirk an unpleasant task. Carefully, he adjusted himself for a jump, calculating the best place to land and making sure that he wasn’t about to faceplant or slip on a stone. Mystique watched him intently, hovering lightly on her paws with all but her head in the water. 

A moment, then another, and then Russetfrond jumped, landing on top of her with an enormous splash. She sank to get out from under him but he lunged and snagged her collar in his teeth. With a sharp tug, he yanked her to the surface. She gasped for air and reared up onto her hind legs, suddenly lifting him. She was taller than him, imposingly so on her hind legs, and he realized a second too late that he should have let go. 

She slammed forward, topping him backwards into the water, and her weight forced him to the bottom of the river. He realized suddenly that he was in danger. She had much better control in the water than he did. Had this all been a cunning ploy to drown her guard and get away? Adrenaline suddenly spiked through him and he lashed out with his hind claws. Her thick, unshed coat tangled his claws but the force of the kick landed in her gut and she quickly backed off of him. He spun to get his feet underneath him and burst from the water, gasping, then rounded on her, prepared for a counter attack. 

He wasn’t ready for the worried expression she was wearing.

“Are you alright?” she asked, sounding genuine. He coughed a little and scowled at her, not yet ready to ease out of his battle stance. 

“I’m sorry, I thought we were just messing around,” she continued, “I didn’t realize you couldn’t swim.” 

“I can swim,” he said, feeling the embarrassment of his fizzling adrenaline rising to his cheeks. “I just- I thought you were pulling something.” 

“Oh,” she sat down, face blank. Her lack of reaction made him even more embarrassed. Teeth gritted, he stomped out to the other side of the river and shook to get the water out of his ears. 

“Grab the bird and let’s go,” he growled. “I’m done wasting time.” 

“Yeah, okay,” she said limply. She sailed easily through the water, back to the far shore, and grabbed the bird, then slipped back into the water like a duck and pulled herself across. Russetfrond couldn’t understand how a cat could look so at home in water. Kittypets, he thought sourly. 

“Thank you,” he grunted. “Let’s go already.” 

“Yeah, okay,” she said, ears drooped. It was unsettling to him to see her this way. The sooner they got back to camp and he could stop thinking about her, the better. He picked up the pace through the grass, following Yarrowshade’s trail and trying not to shiver. 

After a while, Mystique said, “Hey, sorry about that. I promise I’m not gonna like… murder you.” 

“Why would you promise that?” he glared back at her. 

She frowned in surprise. “Uh, cause I’m not a monster?” 

“We’re enemies,” he said harshly. “What if your brother storms the camp and we’re forced to fight? You’re saying you wouldn’t raise your claws to defend your family?” 

“I’d probably try and stop the fighting,” she snapped as if he were being irrational. “I don’t have to choose between killing you or killing my brother.” 

“You might,” he said. 

“No way,” she insisted. “It’s unrealistic to say those are my only choices.” 

“That’s the kind of thinking that got Smokyrose killed,” he snarled, turning on her. She bristled and flattened backward. “You’re naive if you think Razor will give you another option.” She swallowed, searched his face, and he turned his head sharply away. He couldn’t stand that expression on her face. Without another word he stomped back to camp, only pausing to make sure she was behind him. She followed and for that he was grateful. She didn’t speak again and the walk back was stiff and silent. 

When they returned he assigned someone to guard her and went to clean his fur on top of the Stoneperch. Why did he feel betrayed somehow? It wasn’t even the fight that upset him, it was how she had gone all soft and quiet like a kicked dog. That was the part that upset him the most and it didn’t make any sense. He hoped that Goldenstar would do something about Mystique soon ‘cause he wasn’t sure how much longer he could put up with her.

[clangenrising]

Month 13 - Newleaf

“Still no sign of them,” Pantherhaze said sadly. “Russetfrond and Sparrowpaw are still out there waiting though.” 

Goldenstar sighed. The longer they waited, the clearer it became that Smokyrose and Songdust were in serious trouble. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much they could do but wait. They had no idea where the missing cats were and the chances that anyone she sent would also go missing were just too high. She couldn’t in good conscience send her warriors into such a dangerous situation and so she was forced to sit and hope that the two old she-cats would find their ways back home. 

“Alright,” she said. “Thank you, Pantherhaze.” 

“Of course,” he said. Dipping his head, he slipped off to get a meal and left her alone at the foot of the Stoneperch. She closed her eyes and let the cold night wash her with melancholy. She tried to think about what Sunstar would do in this situation but that only led her to the conclusion that Sunstar would be storming the city single-pawed to get her sister back and Goldenstar would be forced to try and stop her. She almost wished it was that easy for her, that she had a good enough excuse to storm blindly into trouble. Then at least she wouldn’t have to agonize over the choice to do nothing. 

A strange scent blew down into camp on the wind, vanilla mixed with thunderpath and twolegs. Her fur bristled and she snapped towards it, mouth open. Had an attack finally come to their camp? The scent wasn’t strong enough to be too many cats. Her ears strained towards the sound, hoping for more details. 

“I’m just saying, he started it,” said a stranger’s voice, causing Goldenstar’s tail to brush up.

Then Russetfrond’s voice set her slightly at ease. “What are you, six weeks old?” 

“Enough!” Goldenstar’s heart leapt at the sound of a third, impossibly familiar voice. “You’re both very cute and funny and smart. Can we please give it a rest?” A pair of mismatched ears crested the slope and then there was Scorch, strolling into camp like nothing had happened, a perfect scowl on her perfect face. 

“Scorchplume!” Goldenstar was halfway across camp before she knew what was happening. 

“What?!” she heard Yarrowshade shout from inside the warriors’ den. 

Scorch had stopped in her tracks wearing a blank expression. Goldenstar stopped too. Was Scorch still upset with her? Oh, Stars, she hoped not. She was wearing a little blue collar with a little star shaped charm. Her blue eyes seemed to glow in the fading twilight as she licked her lips apprehensively. 

“Scorch!” Yarrowshade had burst out of the warriors’ den and bounded up past Goldenstar to butt his head against hers, a deep purr thrumming in his chest. Scorch stiffened but leaned into the touch. With the spell of her gaze broken, Goldenstar suddenly noticed the large blue she-cat looming close behind wearing a collar of her own and a suspicious glare. Cats were starting to gather, whispering amongst themselves, and the kittypet looked like she was trying to size all of them up.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Yarrowshade laughed. “What happened to you?” 

Scorch let out a small, frustrated noise from her throat, like she tried to speak but no words came out. “It’s a long and complicated story,” she ended up saying. Turning to look at the kittypet, she added, “This is Mystique. She helped me escape.” 

“I feel like ‘escape’ is a bit much,” the cat said. 

“No, it’s quite accurate,” Scorch said, looking back at Goldenstar. The leader’s breath suddenly froze in her chest. “Smokyrose is dead.” 

“What?” Russetfrond snapped, suddenly tensing up again. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?” 

“How do you know?” Yarrowshade asked.

Scorch pursed her lips and glared back at Russetfrond. “I told you I wanted to find Goldenstar before I started talking, remember?” She ignored Yarrowshade. 

“Right,” said Goldenstar, jolted out of her paralysis. “Why don't you come sit and tell us what you have to share.” She swept her tail towards the center of camp. As much as she probably ought to pull Scorch into her den for a more private briefing, she knew that everyone was going to be starving for details and that it would be faster if they all just heard them now instead of asking her for them one by one. 

“Thank you,” Scorch sighed, shoulders slacking. “Mystique and I are both very hungry as well. Would it be alright if we ate?” 

“Of course,” Goldenstar said immediately. 

Russetfrond growled. “We shouldn’t be sharing prey with the enemy, Goldenstar.” 

“She brought one of our warriors home,” she replied. “At least for tonight, she’s a guest.” Russetfrond huffed disapprovingly but didn’t protest any further. Mystique shot him the smuggest grin. Oh, dear, Goldenstar thought. Those two are going to be a pawful. 

A moment later, everyone who was awake was gathered around Scorch and Mystique who had been given a mouse each. Mystique seemed unsure how to approach the prey at first but once Scorch started eating she quickly followed suit. Everyone gave them a few beats to eat despite the palpable curiosity in the air. 

Russetfrond eventually broke the silence. “What do you know about Smokyrose and Songdust?” 

Scorch swallowed and straightened her posture authoritatively. “Smokyrose is dead. She and Songdust showed up to try and barter peace two days ago but Razor found out that she and Ghost were intertwined and killed her for it.” Mystique glanced at her with a frown but refrained from interrupting, focused instead on finishing her meal. 

“Because she wasn’t from the city?” Goldenstar asked in shock. She’d heard old stories about tyrannical leaders killing the cross-clan mates of their warriors before. She wondered if Razor was a kittypet purist. 

“Not exactly,” Scorch said. “He and Ghost are not on good terms right now. Razor killed her just to spite him.” Her tail lashed once but Goldenstar could see the burning anger underneath her calm and collected facade. Floodpaw reflected that anger, tail lashing back and forth as he sat on the edge of the meeting with his littermates. 

“That’s horrible!” Ospreymask said. 

“Poor Smokyrose…” mumbled Pantherhaze, looking at his paws. 

“What about Songdust?” Pressed Russetfrond. 

“She escaped,” Mystique volunteered. “Nobody’s seen her since.” 

“Nobody?” Branchbark frowned. 

“Nobody who will say anything at least,” shrugged Mystique. 

“Snake guts,” Yarrowshade cursed, staring through the dirt with wide, overwhelmed eyes. Beside him, Pantherhaze shut his eyes and whispered a prayer under his breath. 

“Okay, well that’s good,” Goldenstar said, trying to focus on the positive. “That means she’s probably safe.” 

“So why hasn’t she come home?” Ospreymask asked. 

“There’s a chance she’s been caught by the humans,” Scorchplume said, licking the last traces of her mouse from her lips. “If they’ve got her she’ll be in a place the city cats call a Judgement House.”

“Oh, that’s not scary at all,” Yarrowshade muttered. 

Scorch continued, “They’ll decide if she’s Chaff or if she’ll become Exalted - what you would call a kittypet. If she’s Chaff, she’ll be back on the street after about four days. If she’s not then it could take moons.” 

“Seriously?” Ospreymask scoffed. “Why?” 

“I don’t know,” Scorch shrugged. “I got taken home by a human after a week.” 

“So you were in one of these ‘Judgement Houses’?” Goldenstar asked. The idea sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what such a place would look like. 

“Yes,” Scorch twitched an ear. “It’s not important though. What is important is that the city cats are preparing to step up their attack. They’re going to keep starving you out but on top of that they’re training the Chaff to fight so they can send strike teams to pick your patrols off one by one.” Goldenstar noticed Mystique shifting uneasily, eyes darting over the scowling warriors around her.

“If they fight anything like the cats we fought before, they won’t stand a chance,” Floodpaw declared, puffing up his chest. 

“Shush,” Goldenstar said and he deflated, ears flopping backwards.

“It doesn’t matter if they do,” Scorch said. “There are a lot more Chaff in the city than there are Clan cats and the Exalted won’t have a problem with throwing them at you until you’re overwhelmed. It’s not a matter of if they wipe you out, it’s a matter of when.” Goldenstar swallowed. 

“So what do we do?” Branchbark asked. 

“Run?” Scorch said. “I told you, there’s no winning with Razor. Your best chance is to leave and live to fight another day.”

“No way,” Russetfrond growled. 

“That’s been discussed and discarded already,” Goldenstar said. “The Clans would never agree to it.” 

“I thought Snowstar was willing to help us relocate on the other side of the mountains,” said Yarrowshade. 

“Yes,” Goldenstar winced, “but I doubt we’d be able to convince SkyClan and FallenClan to come with us. Besides, we already decided that we weren’t going to abandon our home.” 

“Goldenstar, how many times do I have to tell you,” Scorchplume’s claws sank into the grass, “there is no other way! If you stay here you’ll all die. That’s that.” 

Goldenstar bit her lip, unable to hold back the disappointment overwhelming her. She’d hoped that if she ever saw Scorch again that there would be a tearful reunion, not a bitter argument. She shuffled a bit, aware that the eyes of her Clan were on her. Whatever she said next would have weight.

“I know you believe that,” she said and she saw Scorch scowl defensively. Quickly, she added, “I’m not saying you’re crazy, I’m just saying I have to make sure there isn’t another course of action before we resort to something that drastic.” 

“We should ask StarClan,” Ospreymask suggested. “They led us to victory during the snowstorm! They can do it again!”

“Of course they did,” Scorch scoffed, rolling her eyes as she looked away. Goldenstar wanted to scream. They had! Scorch had somehow managed to be gone right when StarClan gave them definitive proof of their existence. It was infuriating. 

“I’ll plan a visit to the River,” she said instead. “We’ll see what guidance they can provide.” 

“What about you?” Branchbark said to Mystique. “What do you think we should do?” 

The kittypet sat up, ears flicking back uncomfortably, and she looked around at them with an uneasy grimace. “Me?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “You helped Scorchplume. You can’t be all that bad. We have kits and elders here who are in danger and we’ll fight to defend them but we don’t want to kill your cats any more than we want you to kill ours.”

“Sure,” scoffed Mystique. “I’ve heard about how you swarmed the hunting party and slaughtered Sycamore.” 

“He was going to kill Floodpaw,” Ospreymask said, voice sharp and clipped. Floodpaw squirmed in embarrassment. 

Branchbark tried again. “We were just trying to defend our homes and our loved ones. I’m sure you understand that, right?” Mystique nodded after a beat. “So what do you think we should do? You know the city cats better than we do. What’s the best way forward for everyone?” Goldenstar raised her brows, impressed. Branchbark was sharp as a thorn, as usual. All eyes turned to Mystique, waiting for her answer. Scorch in particular seemed invested in what she had to say.

“Well…” the big blue she-cat swallowed, a frown tugging at her lips. “My brother is a stubborn cat. He wants the wild territories and he’s probably not going to give up any time soon.” 

“Your brother?” Russetfrond glared. 

“Razor,” Scorch said tightly. Everyone bristled. 

“What?!” Yarrowshade was on his feet.

“The kits are sleeping!” Ospreymask hissed at him.

“How could you bring her here?!” Russetfrond accused Scorch. “Weren’t you thinking?!”

“I did what I had to do,” Scorch snarled, voice dripping with a venom Goldenstar had never heard before. “Don’t you dare lecture me!” Mystique had pulled back into a defensive crouch, tail twitching in grim anticipation of a fight.

“Everyone calm down,” Goldenstar stood as well, trying to speak authoritatively without raising her volume too much. “Blood isn’t everything. She’s done nothing but help us so far, we’re not going to turn on her because of her brother’s actions.” Yarrowshade glared at her for a second before sitting down again. Russetfrond didn’t move, locked in a staring contest with Scorchplume. 

“He’s really not so bad…” Mystique said weakly. 

“Have you ever heard him talk?” Yarrowshade laughed bitterly. 

“Didn’t he kill Smokyrose over a petty grudge?” said Ospreymask. 

“He’s the worst kind of monster there is,” Scorch growled, still squinting furiously at Russetfrond. “He takes just to take and he’s cruel without cause. But Mystique isn’t like him.” She glanced over at the kittypet. “She may be a little obtuse but she means well.”

“Okay, ouch,” Mystique said defensively. Scorch opened her mouth like she was going to continue then pursed her lips and looked away again. 

“Maybe we should have this conversation in the morning,” suggested Pantherhaze. “I think some sleep would do everyone some good.” 

“I suppose I could stay the night,” Mystique mumbled. 

“Oh, you’ll stay longer than that,” growled Russetfrond. Looking at Goldenstar, he said, “She knows where our camp is, what our numbers are, what we plan to do. She can’t go back to the city.” 

“Hold on!” Mystique rose to her paws, causing Russetfrond, Yarrowshade, Ospreymask, and Floodpaw to do the same. “You can’t keep me here!” 

“We can do whatever we like,” Russetfrond hissed, back arching. Goldenstar felt the situation quickly slipping away from her. 

“Look,” she said, “he has a point. It would be extremely unwise to let you return to the others. You’ll have to stay here, at least for a while. I’m really sorry.” Mystique’s mouth fell open, dumbfounded. 

“The elder’s den is empty now,” Russetfrond said, lowering back into a calmer posture. “We can keep her there. I’ll take first watch and then organize a rotation tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Goldenstar agreed. “Try not to provoke her too much, okay?” He grunted in reluctant affirmation. 

“Great,” glowered Mystique, “can’t someone else be my jailer?”

“Think of him more as your personal bodyguard,” Scorch smiled. The smug tone of her voice and the way that Mystique’s expression became suddenly guilty told Goldenstar there was some kind of personal meaning there she wasn’t aware of. 

“Besides,” Scorch continued, standing and swishing her tail in a beautiful arc, “It’s not like you can go home. Once Razor finds out you stole his precious little bird you’ll be public enemy number one.”

Mystique’s face fell, horror dawning behind her eyes. “Wait…”

 “You didn’t think about that, did you?” Scorch huffed a laugh through her nose. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to think about it now.” 

“Come on,” Russetfrond said, stepping closer. “Let’s go.” Mystique stared at Scorch for another beat then slowly rose to her paws and let Russetfrond corral her into the empty elders’ den. Goldenstar’s throat seized guiltily.

“Sparrowpaw,” she called.

“Yes?” He straightened his posture attentively. 

“Get her some water and fresh bedding, alright?” 

“Yes, Goldenstar,” Sparrowpaw nodded and hurried off to do so. 

“Better than she deserves,” Floodpaw grumbled. 

Goldenstar shot him a stern look. “Shush. Don’t you have dawn patrol tomorrow? Go to bed.”

“Fine…” he sighed, trudging back to the apprentices’ den beside Barleypaw. Branchbark and Pantherhaze slipped into the warriors’ den. Ospreymask went back to the top of the hill to resume her night watch. Goldenstar and Yarrowshade were left with Scorch, a quiet tension hanging between them. Goldenstar decided to break the silence sooner rather than later. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said softly. 

“Yeah,” said Yarrowshade, “me too.”

Scorch shifted. The mask that Goldenstar had spent moons trying to loosen was back in place, tightly affixed to her features. Goldenstar felt it, like a wound in her own throat. When Scorch spoke, she sounded casual in a way that Goldenstar knew was calculated. 

“We’ll see how long I stick around,” she shrugged. “You may want to stay and get murdered but I’ll be long gone before then.” 

“C’mon, you don’t mean that,” Yarrowshade frowned. 

Goldenstar stepped forward, quickly saying, “Whatever you choose to do, we’ll understand.” Yarrowshade’s frown turned on her and she shot him a scowl in reply. 

“Right,” Scorch said. “Of course.” 

Yarrowshade glanced at her then ducked away. “Um, I’m off to bed,” he mumbled. “See you tomorrow.” He slunk away, tail brushing the ground. Goldenstar thought she caught a sliver of a frown on Scorch’s face but it was gone immediately. 

“I’m sorry about him,” she said. 

Scorch hummed noncommittally. 

“So…” she said, her stomach writhing like a pit of snakes. “You were a kittypet.” She glanced at the collar and Scorch followed her gaze, seemingly surprised to see it. 

“Oh, yeah, I was,” she said. “I’d love to get this thing off though.” 

“Let me help you,” Goldenstar stepped closer then stopped, waiting for Scorch to close the rest of the distance. There was a pause and then she did. 

“It’s not that tight,” she said. “I think you could probably pull it off without too much trouble.” 

“Let me see,” Goldenstar breathed, leaning in to inspect it. She tested the thing in her teeth, pulled at it, then said, “Uh, duck your head?” Scorch complied and she leaned over to grab it from the back. As her teeth brushed Scorch’s scruff, she felt Scorch’s entire body stiffen in fear, smelled the sweat forming on her paw pads. It scared her. Quickly, she hooked her teeth around the collar and pulled, wiggling it over Scorch’s ears and onto the ground. Scorch let out a shaky breath and stood up straight, giving her fur a few licks to smooth it down. 

“Thank you,” she said, “I’ll get rid of that thing in the morning.” 

Now, thought Goldenstar, say something before you lose your chance!

“Uh, your old nest is gone but you can stay in my den tonight if you like.” 

Scorch swallowed and squinted at her. “No. No, I think I’ll just use Russetfrond’s. I appreciate the generous offer though.” 

“Alright.” Goldenstar smiled, blood draining from her face. “Good night.” She swiveled and strode quickly into her own den, worried that she would die of embarrassment before she arrived. That could have gone better. There was this massive wall between them that she didn’t know how to scale and it was killing her. 

Scorch was home though… that was good. She could work with that.

[clangenrising]

Month 12 - Leafbare

Sagetooth’s ear twitched irritably as she listened to Smokyrose’s proposal. “This is nonsense!” she huffed. “You want to try and make peace with these rogues?! You’d sooner teach a fox to fly!” Smokyrose tried to hide her scowl, focusing her attention back on Goldenstar. 

“I think we have to try,” she said. “And we ought to try as soon as possible. If we can put an end to the fighting before anyone else gets hurt, we should do that, right?” 

“I see what you’re saying,” Goldenstar said and Sagetooth waited eagerly for the ‘but’, “but these city cats don’t seem interested in any outcome besides getting what they want. I’m not sure there is a peaceful solution.” 

Smokyrose frowned and said, “We should do our due diligence. If we don’t, the ‘what ifs’ will weigh on our minds for the rest of our lives.” 

“Maybe for you,” Sagetooth growled, lashing her tail. “I will sleep soundly knowing we refused to negotiate with these barbarians.” 

“That kind of talk isn’t helpful,” Smokyrose pouted. “We need to empathize with our enemy, not demonize them.” Some things never changed. Smokyrose was still as self righteous as ever and accustomed to using her pretty face to win arguments. It made Sagetooth simmer with rage.

“I beg to differ,” she retorted. “There’s a reason the Code expects us to refrain from making friendships within other Clans. Too much empathy loses battles.” 

Goldenstar chirped to get the two older cats’ attention then sighed. “Look. I would love to be able to agree with you Smokyrose but I’m worried about your safety. Maybe we can find a compromise, yes?” 

“I’m listening,” Smokyrose smiled and Sagetooth rolled her eyes.

“It’s been a while since we actually ran into any rogues,” Goldenstar said. “Next time we do, we’ll ask them for a meeting and then we’ll arrange a time and location that I can feel confident you’ll be safe in. How does that sound?” 

“I guess…” said Smokyrose. Sagetooth huffed.

Goldenstar looked at her and asked, “Sagetooth, do you have any objections?” 

“No, I suppose not,” said the old healer. Aside from the fact that this clearly won’t work. She was just going to have to let Goldenstar learn the hard way. 

“Good,” Goldenstar sighed tiredly. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” Sagetooth and Smokyrose both frowned and shifted their weight but they didn’t protest. 

Neither of us are happy, Sagetooth thought sarcastically, the sign of a perfect compromise. 

“Thank you for hearing me out,” Smokyrose nodded, standing. 

“Always,” said Goldenstar, smiling despite her weariness. Sagetooth frowned deeper. The war seemed to be taking a heavy toll on the young cat and she didn’t like it. 

“Did you want me to bring you those sleeping herbs like we discussed?” she asked, knowing Goldenstar had been against them from the start. 

“I guess…” Goldenstar shrugged. “I… trust your judgment.” 

“Good,” Sagetooth said, standing as well. “Trust me, a night of deep sleep will do you some good.” She headed for the exit to the leader’s den but nearly collided with Smokyrose in the tunnel. She bristled, baring her teeth, and Smokyrose pulled back to let her go first. With a satisfied ‘humph’, she hobbled out of the den and back into her own. By the time she got there, a rant was starting to spill from her lips. 

“She’s got no sense,” she grumbled, “She wants to talk with them? Hah! That will go well. I’m sure everyone will toss a moss ball around and share tongues too!” 

Movement drew her attention and she snapped her gaze up to glare at the perpetrator. Sitting side by side, Aldertail and Oddstripe were refreshing the sick beds. Aldertail had fallen over, tail tucked and ears pressed back, as if instinctively apologizing for being in her way. Oddstripe winced sympathetically and smiled at Sagetooth.

“Evening, Sagetooth,” he said. “Everything alright?” 

“It’s Smokyrose,” she grouched, disregarding them as she stomped back to the herb stores. “She’s insisting we try to ‘make peace’ with the rogues. Ridiculous! She seems to think every problem can be solved if you talk about your feelings enough.” 

“Well, that is her job, isn’t it?” Oddstripe offered with a bashful laugh. “You know, as a mediator.” 

“Pah!” Sagetooth lashed her tail to toss the remark away. “Mediators! We went plenty of generations without them just fine!” She scowled in focus. She had to portion out the herbs without making a mess and her temper was not making it any easier for her achy paws to manage.

“Oh, really?” Oddstripe asked. “I just assumed mediators had been around as long as every other position.”

“Nope,” Sagetooth said. “Time was, we knew how to settle our disputes like warriors. These days all anyone wants to do is talk.” Finally, she managed to fold Goldenstar’s herbs into a little leaf for easy carrying.

“Isn’t that better?” he ventured carefully. “I mean- don’t less cats get hurt?” 

Sagetooth scoffed and turned around, the bundle of herbs in her teeth. “Youngins!” she hissed. “Too afraid of pain.” Her eyes briefly landed on Aldertail and the warrior impulsively went to lick at her paws. Sagetooth’s tail lashed again. 

“Stop that!” she ordered. 

“Sorry!” Aldertail squeaked, slamming her paw back down. 

“Stars, girl!” Sagetooth groaned, “I ought to put garlic on your legs!” 

“I-it’s alright,” Oddstripe tried, laying his tail around Aldertail’s shoulders. “She just wants you to be kind to yourself.” Sagetooth’s fur prickled. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” she spat. “We’re not doing her any service by coddling her. She’s a full grown cat, she should be able to take control of herself and stop tearing up her own skin any time someone looks at her sideways!” 

“I’m sorry,” Aldertail said again. “I’ll stop, I promise!” 

“You’d better,” Sagetooth growled. 

Oddstripe’s big ears turned backwards. “Sagetooth! She can’t help it!” 

“Excuses, excuses,” scoffed Sagetooth. 

Deep down, she knew she was being harsh. As much as she disliked it, Aldertail’s condition wasn’t something she had too much control over, but Sagetooth was angry and her hips hurt and it seemed like everyone had forgotten what it really meant to be a warrior and she wasn’t in the mood to keep her thoughts to herself! She also wasn’t in the mood to put up with Oddstripe’s bleeding heart at the moment and she stalked out of the den, tail arched at the base as it lashed side to side. 

“It’s okay, Oddstripe, really,” she heard Aldertail say as she left. “I know I should be better about it.” 

“Oh, you’re fine,” Oddstripe said firmly. “Why don’t you finish these nests? I’m going to have a word with Sagetooth real quick.” 

Sagetooth growled, low and long, as the sound of pawsteps quickly caught up to her. The sun was starting to set, casting the camp in a soft purple. On any other day it would have been beautiful but, today, for some reason, it was very annoying.

“Sagetooth!” Oddstripe hissed, easily keeping stride with her. “That was entirely inappropriate! I- I know you have your own way of doing things, but I-” 

“You what?” Sagetooth stopped to glare at him and his stupid, giant bat ears. 

“I-” Oddstripe recoiled under her gaze. She huffed in satisfaction which only made him more upset. “I won’t let you talk to her like that.” 

“Oh, really?” she growled, setting down the herbs. “What will you do to stop me?” 

Oddstripe squirmed but kept that annoyingly determined look on his face. “I- I don’t-” 

“Sagetooth!” a voice called out from the eastern hill. Sighing, she turned to face the patrol returning to camp with a grimace. 

“What now?” she said before she saw them and all thoughts seemed to fly from her head. 

Pantherhaze was in the lead, with Yarrowshade, Barleypaw, and Stormwhisper in tow. Each of them carried a kit about four weeks old in their jaws. Sagetooth’s eyes snapped onto Stormwhisper and he immediately wilted under her gaze. 

“There you are!” she shouted. “Where in the Dark Forest have you been?!” She stormed towards them, the herbs and her argument with Oddstripe completely forgotten. Cats started emerging from their dens to see what was going on.

Stormwhisper set the kitten down between his paws and said, “StarClan led me out past the territories where I found a pregnant queen. I helped her deliver the kits and she asked me to take them back to be raised in EarthClan so I did. I’m still not sure why StarClan set me on this path, but I assume the kits must be important somehow.” Sagetooth narrowed her eyes. His response seemed rehearsed to her and far too vague for her liking.

As he spoke, the others set the kits they were carrying next to the first and one of them, a little white and ginger tom, started to squeal hungrily. The others joined in, becoming a pitiful, sickly sounding chorus. 

“Oh, the poor things!” Oddstripe said, moving over to inspect the kittens. “They’re half starved!” 

“I’ve been trying to feed them,” Stormwhisper said, “but it’s been hard since they’re still getting the hang of food.” 

Sagetooth was still glaring. “They’re not even weaned yet and their mother sent them away with you?” 

Stormwhisper frowned and shifted his weight uneasily. “Yeah. I tried to convince her to come with me but she wanted nothing to do with them. B-besides, I figured I’d been gone long enough already-”

“You sure have!” Sagetooth hissed, tail bristling. “Oddstripe and I have been covering for your absence! There’s a war on! And you just went off for three moons, completely neglecting your duties and oaths?!” 

“A war?!” Stormwhisper reeled. “Between whom?” 

“Everyone and a bunch of bloodthirsty rogues,” Sagetooth snapped. “You’d know that if you’d stuck around.”

“Easy, Sagetooth,” Yarrowshade said, stepping forward a little. 

“He said StarClan was guiding him,” Pantherhaze added, eyes wide. “Maybe these kits are going to save the Clans some day!” 

Oddstripe whispered, “Barleypaw, would you grab me some drinking water and a bird of some kind?” Barleypaw nodded and bounded off towards the nearest stream.

“I’ll go grab the ones we cached earlier,” Yarrowshade offered.

“Thank you,” Oddstripe purred. “Stormwhisper, why don’t you help me get them to the healers’ den?” Sagetooth’s jaw hurt from the ferocity with which she was clenching it. It seemed no one there cared at all about Stormwhisper’s transgressions. She wished that she could set him on fire with her glare alone. She couldn’t, of course, and he eventually broke her gaze to smile at Oddstripe.

“Of course,” he said. Stooping down, he started nosing the kits towards the healers’ den and said, “Come on, little ones. Food is this way.” Sagetooth watched the fondness on his face, the way he gently picked up the smallest one and helped him along, and her expression darkened. The kits were skinny and weak, that much was clear, but if their mother had abandoned them at birth they would have died within the week. The situation wasn’t adding up right and it didn’t sit well with her.

That night, she watched from the back of the den as Oddstripe and Stormwhisper fawned over the kittens and tried to help them eat. They laughed together. Oddstripe shared stories about their own litter. Stormwhisper shared his names for the litter. 

They were all toms. The biggest and strongest of them, the ginger and white one, he named Bluffkit. The blue tabby he named Finchkit. The little grey-brown one with the white tail he named Erminekit. The white and grey speckled one he called Rainkit.

“You know,” he admitted to Oddstripe after he’d said it, “I always wanted a kit named Rainkit.” Sagetooth’s eyes narrowed. 

“Really?” Oddstripe purred. 

“Yeah,” said Stormwhisper. “You know, Stormwhisper. Rainkit. I thought it was cute.” 

“Oh, it is!” Oddstripe said, waving a paw around for the kittens to bat at. “I’m glad you were able to use the name, even if the kits aren’t yours.” 

“Yeah,” Stormwhisper said, falling quiet, a strange smile on his face. 

That was enough for Sagetooth. She didn’t know why or how but she was certain these kits were Stormwhisper’s. It made her sick. Still, it wasn’t a surprise. Stormwhisper had never been very committed to his duties as a healer, especially not the spiritual ones. As she saw it, a part of him had remained stuck in his time as a warrior and no amount of lectures ever seemed to get him to behave. And now he had used StarClan as an excuse to cover for his blasphemous actions. What a disgrace. What a betrayal.

“StarClan are the ones who betrayed us, Sagetooth. Wake up already.” Redleaf’s words reared their ugly heads, as they often did at the most inopportune times. Sagetooth shook her head. At least she had managed to keep Stormwhisper away from-

Her eyes widened in shock and her entire pelt bristled with unease. 

No… Surely not.

She studied the kits as they settled down against Stormwhisper’s belly to sleep. A ginger kitten was a guarantee that their mother was a tortoiseshell. The more she looked, the more she saw her old apprentice in their features, in the shapes of their faces or the pattern of their stripes.

She shook her head again, shutting her eyes. She was imagining things. There was no way to find such a strong resemblance, not when they were this young, not when they were all toms. Still, the fear lingered with her. She wondered what had become of Redleaf. What reason would she have had to stay so close to the Clan? How would Stormwhisper have even known?

Sighing, she settled herself down for sleep. She had more important things to worry about. That didn’t stop her from worrying about this for at least another hour before she fell into a fitful sleep.

UPDATES: - Stormwhisper returns from his mysterious absence with four kits, Bluffkit, Finchkit, Erminekit, and Rainkit. They stay the night in RisingClan before returning to EarthClan.

[clangenrising]

Month 12 - Leafbare

Leafbare had become increasingly lonely for Yarrowshade. The loss of both Nightfrost and Scorchplume had taken a heavy toll on his social life. He still went hunting with Pantherhaze and Barleypaw but the energy wasn’t there.While Pantherhaze was sweet, and practically his brother, they didn’t have the same back and forth that he had with Scorchplume or Nightfrost and their absence had left a void in him that no one seemed to be able to fill.

Normally he would have gone to Goldenstar for help with that, but she had become increasingly busy managing Floodpaw’s training and keeping up the alliances with the other Clans. Now that Smokyrose had gone back to work, the two of them had started making frequent trips to the other Clans to discuss policy and next moves. Goldenstar had even told him she was planning on introducing them to the system of Soft Oaths and True Oaths she had developed. That seemed like a risky idea to him but she was determined and once she got an idea in her head, it was hard to get it out. 

And so Yarrowshade had thrown himself into teaching Barleypaw. She was coming along so well - practically taller than him already and an expert at bird catching. She was maturing too. After the battle, she’d been so ready to fight if it came to it even though she was terrified and he had been so proud of her. He’d also felt incredibly guilty though, him with his bruised ribs and wounded ego, for throwing himself into a fight he hadn’t had a chance of winning. What would have happened to her if he had died there? The thought made him feel sick to his stomach. 

He lay awake one morning, stewing over that thought. He had always been happy to focus on hunting instead of fighting, to let cats like Songdust and Russetfrond take charge in battle, but now… He realized that was a luxury he didn’t have anymore. He was tired of losing cats and being helpless to stop it but he did have the power to try and stop someone else from losing him. He rose from his nest, resolved to do something about it. 

The day was unseasonably warm and lightly cloudy. Goldenstar and Oddstripe were talking softly near the Stoneperch while Smokyrose tried to detach herself from her kittens at the mouth of the nursery. 

“I know, I know,” she said, “but I have to go, my dears.”

“Are you coming back?” Slatekit cried, her big golden eyes wide. 

“Yes, of course I will,” Smokyrose soothed, licking the kitten’s forehead and then prying her tail free from her clutches. 

“Hey! Hey, mom!” Fogkit said, seemingly having an entirely different conversation, “Guess what!”

“What, Fogkit?” Smokyrose sighed with a smile. 

Fogkit bounced up and down on her paws and asked, “If- If you hold your breath too long, will you die?” 

“No, sweetheart,” said Smokyrose, “You can’t hold your breath that long, your body won’t let you.” 

“Really?” Fogkit squeaked.

“Yes,” nodded Smokyrose, “now I really need to go, but I’m sure Ospreymask or someone can play with you.” 

“Okay,” Slatekit whispered. Fogkit was holding her breath but nodded excitedly. Yarrowshade shook his head. Kittens… How did they have so much energy?

Stepping away, Smokyrose joined Goldenstar and Oddstripe, saying, “Alright. Let’s get going.” 

“Wait up!” Yarrowshade said, realizing he needed to be quick. “Goldenstar, do you have a moment?” He bounded up to join the three of them. 

“Um,” Goldenstar glanced up at the sky and winced. “Maybe. What’s up?” 

“I was wondering if you had some time to help me with some training,” he said.

Her wince intensified. “I’m sorry, Yare, we’re expected in EarthClan.” 

Yarrowshade looked at Oddstripe and frowned. “Is Stormwhisper still missing?” 

“Yeah…” the healer frowned, big ears folding back. “And Fishtrick has whitecough.” 

“Damn,” Yarrowshade wilted. What kind of healer just went off and didn’t tell anybody? He wondered if perhaps Stormwhisper had died but pushed the thought away. Despite being EarthClan’s current healer, he had once been a formidable warrior. It was unlikely he had been killed by something, or at least Yarrowshade hoped so. 

“Besides,” Goldenstar said, “I’m talking with Orangestar about our next moves today. We’ve gotta find a way to stop the rogues from stealing our prey.” She was right. Even though no city cat had been caught over the border since the battle, they still ventured into Clan territory to snag prey and food was only getting scarcer. 

Yarrowshade sighed and nodded. “Alright. Good luck, Goldie.” 

“Thanks,” she purred, bumping her head against his. “Why don’t you ask Russetfrond for help? I’m sure he’ll be able to handle whatever training you need.” 

“Oh,” Yarrowshade swallowed tensely. “I don’t know-” But she was already walking away, Oddstripe and Smokyrose close behind. He sighed again. “Great.” 

Behind him, Fogkit suddenly gasped for breath and said, “She’s right! You can’t do it!” 

Yarrowshade ate breakfast and watched as Sparrowpaw came out to entertain the kits for a while. Barleypaw eventually joined him and the two began tossing the kittens as high as they could into the air, a game which involved a lot of squealing and shrieking. By the time Russetfrond came out of the warrior’s den, Yarrowshade had withdrawn deeply into his own mind. He frowned as he watched Russetfrond pick out a fish from the prey pile, contemplating whether or not he should even try asking for help. 

Russetfrond was a huge grump, the kind of cat who took everything far too seriously. When they were apprentices, Yarrowshade had enjoyed getting on his nerves and pushing the boundaries of his rule following, but as they’d grown up Russetfrond had only gotten angrier with him and it had stopped being fun and started being annoying. He was a strong believer in going with the flow and Russetfrond’s rigid adherence to law and order drove him up a tree. How did Goldenstar expect such a strict curmudgeon to teach him anything?!

Still… He watched Barleypaw playing with the kittens and thought again about what she would do if he died. Reluctantly, he stood and crossed the camp to where Russetfrond was eating. The deputy looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Yarrowshade said, then cleared his throat. “I was hoping to do some battle training today and Goldenstar said maybe you could help me.” His pride was writhing inside him but he kept his expression stoic. He couldn’t back out now.

Russetfrond grunted and said, “Sure, I can take Barleypaw out with the others today and-” 

“No,” interrupted Yarrowshade. “I meant me.” He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to muster the effort to continue. “I want to be a better fighter.” 

“You really should have thought about that while you were an apprentice,” Russetfrond said flippantly. 

“Come on, man,” Yarrowshade said, a growl edging into his voice. “We’re only gonna have more and more battles with these rogues. I want to be ready.” 

Russetfrond squinted at him for a long moment. “Say please.” 

“Ugh, are you serious?” Yarrowshade tossed his head back in frustration.

“Yes,” Russetfrond insisted. “If you want my help, you’ll ask properly.” His eyes narrowed, a challenge. Yarrowshade considered waiting for Goldenstar to get back instead but the idea of her being disappointed in him or pushing herself too far to add helping him onto her long list of responsibilities made his throat feel tight. 

Eventually, he sighed and said, “Russetfrond, will you please help me with my battle training?”

Russetfrond grunted and stood, twitching his tail to beckon Yarrowshade to follow him. “Alright. Come on.” Yarrowshade blinked in surprise. He had expected Russetfrond to nitpick his tone or say no anyways just to spite him. He wasn’t about to protest, though, and so he followed Russetfrond out into the fields to a sandy training ground near camp. 

“Alright,” Russetfrond said again, turning back to him, “Where did you want to start?” 

“Um,” Yarrowshade hadn’t considered it. “How not to get my tail handed to me by a pair of kittypets I guess?” 

Russetfrond scowled. “The first step is to stop underestimating your opponents. These kittypets aren’t pampered weaklings like we used to believe. Many of them are skilled fighters and if you keep pretending you’re above them they’ll beat you every time.” 

“Okay, fine,” Yarrowshade rolled his eyes. He didn’t care for the way Russetfrond was treating him like a little kit. 

“Pay attention!” Russetfrond said with a frustrated growl. “You asked me for help, okay? If you’re not gonna take this seriously you can leave.” 

“I am taking it seriously,” Yarrowshade groaned. “Don’t expect me to be all ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ okay? In case you forgot, I’m older than you.” He huffed a bitter laugh through his nose, tail twitching, and started tearing at the sparse grass with his paws. Why was Russetfrond like this?

“Then act like it already!” Russetfrond snapped. “You make everything into a joke! It’s infuriating.” 

“Okay, whatever,” Yarrowshade shook his head. “You just like feeling better than everyone ‘cause your mom was leader.” 

“I have a legacy to maintain,” Russetfrond growled, his own tail lashing, “just like Wildstar of old. I have to make my mother proud! You have no idea what that’s like!” 

Yarrowshade grit his teeth furiously. As a kitten, he had been found wandering through the territory, starving and confused as to why his mother had abandoned him out in the grass.

The Clan had taken him in, filled his belly, and treated his fever. They had given him a place to call his own and he had tried his hardest to make them proud, to make sure they never regretted their decision to welcome him in. For Russetfrond to insinuate that he didn’t have anyone to make proud filled him up with rage and indignation. 

“You badger-whelp!” he snarled. “I ought to shred your ears for that.” 

“Try it,” Russetfrond dared, arching his back into a battle stance. “You want some combat training? Let’s go.” Yarrowshade laughed. Russetfrond just bared his teeth. With a shock, Yarrowshade realized he was serious. 

“Alright,” he laughed again, rolling his shoulders and sinking into a stance of his own. “You asked for it.” The threat was all bravado - he knew he was outmatched - but the urge to get sent back to the healers’ den trying was too strong. Even though he had felt guilty about getting beaten by those kittypets, he had to admit there was something satisfying in the pain, something he deserved. 

Giving a yowl, he sprang, claws swiping for Russetfrond’s ears. Russetfrond, to his surprise, lunged up to meet him, crashing his skull up into Yarrowshade’s jaw which caused his teeth to snap down onto his tongue with a jarring ‘clack!’ He hissed, reeling back and spat blood onto the sand. 

“You fight like a hunter,” Russetfrond said, still in a battle crouch but not advancing. “You try to get a hit in before your target can notice but that doesn’t work with cats. You have to wear them down or wait for an opening, you can’t just win by being the first to make a hit.” 

Yarrowshade grit his teeth in pain and anger. Now Russetfrond was trying to teach him? He sprang again, this time going low to try and snap at his opponent’s neck. His teeth found purchase in Russetfrond’s thick ruff of fur. Pushing forward, he tried to topple Russetfrond onto his back, but the sturdy tom hunkered down and swatted him roughly in the eye. 

“Ow!” Yarrowshade cried out, falling backwards to nurse his wound. “Fox-dung, man, that’s not cool!” He groaned and cradled his paws against his eye. 

Russetfrond ignored him. “You’re still doing it. Don’t just rush in. Test my defenses for weaknesses first.” Yarrowshade took a deep slow breath to release the pain then slowly lowered his paws, blinking until he could see again. It seemed his eye would be alright, if a little irritated for a while. The moment of pause had already started to leech the anger out of him and, as he took another slow breath, he felt his temper coming back under his control. 

Fine, he thought, We’ll try it his way. He lowered himself into a more defensive crouch and started to prowl closer and Russetfrond shifted his posture to account for the change in tactic. Once Yarrowshade felt like he had closed enough distance, he darted in, one paw batting out, then hopped back. Russetfrond followed him with a few strikes which he dodged. He smiled. The tempo of the battle had changed significantly and he liked it. 

“Good,” Russetfrond said as they circled each other. “This part of the battle is like stalking the prey. If you forget to do this important step and just go charging in you’re going to lose your catch nine times out of ten.” 

“Right,” Yarrowshade said, suddenly understanding. He shifted his posture ever so slightly, keeping his body low to the ground and his limbs close to his body where it was harder to hit them. He was stalking his prey, metaphorically tasting the wind and accounting for the light. He lunged forward with another few swipes and two of them managed to hit Russetfrond in the head. Excitement rising, he pressed his advantage, rearing up to bring more weight down with each strike, but then Russetfrond lunged, tackling him to the ground. He writhed and scrambled and Russetfrond let him go. 

“Better, but you still need to have more patience,” Russetfrond said. 

Yarrowshade nodded. “Alright. How ‘bout this one?” He attacked again, leaping high into the air with the intent to land on Russetfrond’s head, and his opponent reared up to meet him. They met in a flurry of blows, claws sheathed, until Russetfrond hit him in the gut and he hopped back again to catch his breath.

“Not bad,” Russetfrond smirked, “but maybe don’t announce your attacks next time, yeah?” 

Yarrowshade laughed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, shaking out his pelt. “Let’s go again.”

[clangenrising]

I love how close Flood is with Goldenstar, we almost never see an apprentice coming back to their mentor for advice after their training ends, they treat a mentor like some random high school teacher that they rarely interact with again outside of that, honestly the way that the Oddlets have all adopted some habits and mannerisms from their mentors fills me with joy

Yeah! Floodstrike and Goldenstar staying close after he graduates was really important to me, especially since she has the Fantastic Teacher trait. Plus, mentorships as they are set up in warrior cats seem like they have a lot of one on one teaching and I feel like that naturally fosters a very close bond with the person. Even if that relationship is complicated, like your mentor was not kind to you, you would have a strong emotional tie to them now. It's such a shame that that relationship is so often ignored or thrown on the sidelines.

And yeah, I feel like if you didn't know, you could look at how the Oddlets turned out vs where they started and guess who their mentors were with a small margin of error. Floodstrike learned the joy of helping others like Goldenstar. Sparrowsway adopted Russetfrond's buttoned up code of honor. Barleybee learned to project confidence from Yarrowshade. I can't wait to see how the other apprentices turn out, find the pawprints their mentors have left on them.

[clangenrising]

Month 9 - Leaffall

Scrap still wasn’t used to eating animals with fur and feathers and everything. She wished that these Clan cats had kibbles or sausage or cheese. Luckily, Branchbark had taken her fishing that morning. She was terrible at it, but he wasn’t that bad and had managed to snag her a small river fish he called a dace which she had scarfed down so quickly she had nearly choked. If she weren’t so worried about upsetting her new hosts, she would have devoured the entire prey pile, fur and feathers be damned. 

Now she sat on the edge of the little clearing, grooming her paws over and over and over again. Last night, Goldenstar had come to her and discussed the possibility of her joining the Clan, officially changing her name and becoming one of their ‘warriors’. She couldn’t imagine herself being a warrior, a fighter. She pictured Razor and his bruisers, or even Van Pelt and the other zealous Chaff, and her legs started to shake. But Goldenstar had assured her that being a Clan warrior was very different from that. If she wanted to, she wouldn’t be required to fight so long as she helped keep the prey flowing and the dens clean and that didn’t sound so bad. Goldenstar had even offered to change her name which was an exciting idea. 

After a bit of thought, she had agreed, and Goldenstar had told her there would be an official ceremony the next day. Scrap was consumed by nerves. She couldn’t help but worry she would muck the whole thing up. What would the Clan cats do? Would they laugh at her? Would they beat her? Starve her? All three? Branchbark had assured her no harm would come to her but, any time she sat still, the thoughts began to overflow. 

And so she sat, grooming her paws over and over and over again. 

Nearby, she spied Branchbark’s friend, Oddstripe, grooming her- his kits similarly. It was still odd to Scrap, being so close to a pretender like that. Back home, Razor would have taken the cat’s massive ears or worse until she had renounced her foolishness. But here she was free- he was free to do as he pleased. Dammit! She had to remember! He, he, he, he, he. She was a he, or- curses! He was a he. Shaking her head, Scrap gave herself a few quick whacks over the head to try and drill it into her brain. 

“Oh, don’t do that,” Oddstripe said, startling her. 

“Sorry,” Scrap said quickly, pulling both her paws beneath her. 

“Oh, It’s alright,” Oddstripe said, blushing. “I didn’t mean- I just meant it makes me sad to see you hurt yourself like that.” 

“Yeah, you gotta be nice to yourself,” chirped the fluffiest of the kits. 

“It didn’t really hurt,” Scrap laughed anxiously. To tell the truth, she liked the pain of it, it was satisfying in a way. 

“Okay,” Oddstripe said gently, “As long as it doesn’t hurt.” 

“Papa!” the girl of the litter whined, “My feathers aren’t right!” Oddstripe turned back to his kits and leaned down to help fix a series of cardinal feathers into the kit’s fur. 

“Here,” he said, placing a few more licks over her shoulders to get the feathers to lie straight. “How’s that?” 

“Better,” frowned the girl. “Thank you, Papa.” 

“Look!” the blue boy whispered loudly, “Goldenstar’s coming out of her den! It’s time!” 

“Shh! She’ll hear you!” hissed the other boy. Oddstripe chuckled and gave them a few more licks over the head. Scrap gave her own paws a few more licks, wincing slightly as her tongue pulled at the skin her previous grooming had made raw. She pulled her paws underneath her and curled her tail close around her, hoping to be as small as possible until she was called upon. Her eyes flitted across the camp to Goldenstar who was speaking softly with Scorch. 

Scrap swallowed dryly. In the time they had shared the camp, Scorch had mostly avoided her, thank the folk, and had not been nearly as smooth and gregarious as she was used to. Still, it seemed she had once again found favor with the local leader. She wondered if Goldenstar had the same kind of fondness for her that Razor had. Given their tolerance for pretenders, there was a decent chance they didn’t mind that kind of behavior either. There had always been rumors Scorch went both ways so Scrap wouldn’t be surprised. 

After exchanging a few words, Goldenstar bunched her powerful muscles and leapt onto the stone above her den. Scrap flinched as Scorch’s eyes fixed on her for a moment. Thankfully, they just as quickly moved away as Scorch turned and padded to the edge of the clearing and settled down. 

On top of the stone, Goldenstar raised her tail and called out, “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Stoneperch for a Clan meeting!” Her voice cut clearly through the open air of the plains and soon all of the cats had emerged from their dens to listen. Scrap felt a strange prickle of unease when she realized how relaxed they all were. Some were excited, sure, but none were afraid. It was like she had stumbled into a garden meeting somehow and she felt intensely out of place. Unconsciously, she gave her tender paws a few more licks. 

“Today,” Goldenstar said, smiling proudly, “We gather together to name three apprentices, the first since we survived the Red Gut plague and my first as Leader. I know we have all been looking forward to this. Naming new apprentices is a sign that our Clan is still strong and thriving and lets us look forward to the day three new warriors are welcomed into our ranks.” Looking down at the kits, who were fidgeting by their father, Goldenstar said, “Barleykit, Sparrowkit, Floodkit, would you please step forward?” 

The two boys bounded eagerly into the middle of the clearing, staring up at Goldenstar with their tail tips curling excitedly. The girl paused nervously until Oddstripe gave her a gentle nudge forward and she scrambled to stand between her brothers.

Goldenstar purred, “The three of you have reached the age of six moons and today you will begin your training to become warriors. Sparrowkit, from this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Sparrowpaw.” The fluffy brown tom grinned and nodded, puffing up his chest with pride. Scrap watched the ceremony enthralled. What strange traditions these Clan cats had. 

“Russetfrond,” Goldenstar said, and Scrap followed her gaze to a burly ginger tom with handsome cheeks and cardinal feathers in his tail. “You have proven yourself to be a dedicated and loyal warrior and I believe it is time for you to take another apprentice. You will mentor Sparrowpaw. I hope that you will teach him to focus his enthusiasm into a similar dedication to his Clan.” Russetfrond grunted with a nod and stood to join the apprentices in the middle of the circle of cats. He leaned down to touch noses with Sparrowpaw who beamed up at him, golden eyes sparkling. 

The rest of the cats suddenly called out, “Sparrowpaw! Sparrowpaw!”, startling Scrap. She took a deep breath and held her ground, wishing there was something close by to hide under. 

Once they had finished, Russetfrond murmured in his apprentice’s ear, “This way.” Laying his tail over Sparrowpaw’s back, he guided the young cat off to the side to sit and then the ceremony continued. 

“Barleykit,” Goldenstar said, causing the kit in question to squeak and straighten herself. “From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Barleypaw. Your mentor will need to be able to teach you a warrior’s skill and how to have confidence in it, and for that reason, I have chosen Yarrowshade to be your mentor.” The creamy ginger cat who had greeted Scrap at the border sat up excitedly, seemingly surprised by the news. “Yarrowshade, I expect you to look out for Barleypaw and help her grow into a brave and powerful warrior.” 

“I won’t let you down,” Yarrowshade said, moving to touch noses with Barleypaw. Again, the cats began to cheer the young cat’s name until she and her new mentor moved off to the side - the opposite side, Scrap noted. The final kit of the litter squirmed in anticipation as he waited for Goldenstar to resume.

“Floodkit,” she said, “From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Floodpaw. After some consideration and discussion with Nightfrost and your father, I have decided that I myself will be your mentor. I look forward to working with you to teach you the skills and mindset of a warrior.” 

Floodpaw was stiff with excitement as Goldenstar leaped down to touch noses with him. The cats raised their voices again to chant his name. Goldenstar smiled, giving her new apprentice a playful cuff over the ear, and then leapt back up onto the Stoneperch. Scrap’s stomach flipped when she realized that she was next. 

“In addition to these new apprentices,” said Goldenstar, “we are proud to name a new warrior. While Scrap has come to us for protection and would be welcome to stay regardless, she has expressed interest in taking a warrior name and learning to follow our code.” Scrap tried to lift her head proudly but she couldn’t manage to rise from her crouch and ended up feeling like a ridiculous turtle. 

Goldenstar continued, “Now, the last time I inducted a cat into the Clan, I changed the words of the ceremony in order to make them more comfortable and I know that that upset many of you. It was never my intention to permanently change the oaths our warriors swear or to turn my back on StarClan and I apologize for giving you all that impression. I simply did not want to ask a cat to swear to something that they don’t fully understand, especially to the death. For that reason, I propose a Soft Oath that new cats can swear. The oath would allow them to take a name and participate in Clan duties until they feel comfortable swearing the True Oath that our warrior apprentices will swear. Are there any objections?” 

Cats shifted, considering the thought. The big ginger tom, Russetfrond, opened his mouth and then closed it. 

After another moment, he said, “No, I see the logic in that.” 

“Agreed,” nodded Nightfrost, the big she-cat who seemed to be second in command. The rest of the cats all nodded or shrugged, except for the elderly Healer sitting near the edge of her den who sat silently, eyes closed. 

“Good,” Goldenstar sighed in relief. “With that in mind, Scrap, could you please step forward?” Scrap flinched at the sound of her name, instinctively. Forcing herself to stand and step forward. The moment she left the safety of the crowd, her skin began to crawl. An overwhelming compulsion to clean her pelt began to tug on her brain. It felt like a fog was closing around her psyche and it took all of her effort to stare through it and focus on Goldenstar’s voice.

“Scrap,” said Goldenstar, “is it your wish to join RisingClan as a warrior, to learn our ways, and to serve your fellow warriors?” 

Scrap had agreed to this last night, but somehow her throat wouldn’t move. Fighting against her own nerves, she managed to eke out a shaky, “Yes.”

“In return, the Clan will serve you in kind,” said Goldenstar. “Would you like to take a new name or keep the one you already have?” 

“Um,” Scrap shifted. “A new one, please.” She had no attachment to her name. It had always been a point of mockery for her, or a term of derision. She honestly wondered what these strange cats would think to call her. Suddenly, she was struck by the fear that they would give her something even worse than scrap. Why hadn’t she considered that sooner? They had all been so kind, but that didn’t mean-

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you a warrior name. From this day forward, you will be known as Aldertail. Your resilience and bravery shine through and we welcome you as a member of RisingClan.” 

The cats cheered her new name. “Aldertail! Aldertail!” The cries were slightly less enthusiastic than those given to the kits, which was to be expected, but they surprised her nonetheless. She looked around in awe. Goldenstar jumped down again and pressed her nose to Scrap- no, Aldertail’s forehead gently. Aldertail blinked up at her, unsure what to do. 

“With that our meeting is concluded,” Goldenstar said to the crowd then, more softly, she added, “I hope you like the name. I tried to pick out a good one.” 

“I’m sure it’s a good one, your excellence,” the new warrior said, bowing her head. 

“No need to use titles,” Goldenstar reminded her, “we’re friends here.” 

“Right!” winced Aldertail. “I’ll remember, I promise.”

“It’s fine, really,” Goldenstar said with a little laugh. 

Floodpaw, who had been waiting nearby, finally decided to cut in. “Goldenstar, can we go do battle training or something?” 

“Ah, yeah, sure, one second,” Goldenstar said, looking down at him. “Why don’t you go grab the others and we’ll talk about what we want to do on your first day.” 

“Okay!” he nodded and sprinted off to the spot where Russetfrond was talking with Sparrowpaw. 

“I have to go,” Goldenstar said, “but make yourself comfortable. Our home is yours now too.” 

“Thank you,” Aldertail nodded. “I will.” With that, Goldenstar headed off, and the rest of the crowd dispersed as well. Branchbark and his friend, Ospreymask, approached. 

“How are you feeling?” asked Branchbark. 

“Good,” Aldertail said, feeling nauseated. 

“Your name is so perfect!” chirped Ospreymask. “Your tail looks just like a catkin!” 

“A what?” Aldertail asked.

“A catkin!” Ospreymask said, “They’re the flowers that hang from alder trees.” 

“Oh,” she nodded in response. “That’s what the name means.” 

“Have you never seen an alder tree before?” Ospreymask asked. 

“We don’t get many trees in the city,” she said, shaking her head. 

“We can show you one,” offered Branchbark. “They might not have a lot of catkins on them though.” 

“S-sure,” Aldertail nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.” 

“It’s no trouble at all,” he smiled. “Come on!” 

The two Clan cats turned and led the way out of camp and Aldertail, turning her name over in her head like it was a toy, followed. She wasn’t sure she was happy, but she felt better than she had. Perhaps she could put the horrors she had seen behind her, out here in the open fields. Perhaps she could bury Scrap and start over. She liked the sound of that.

UPDATES:

Scrap joined RisingClan and took the name Aldertail. Floodkit, Sparrowkit, and Barleykit have been made apprentices! Floodpaw was apprenticed to Goldenstar Sparrowpaw was apprenticed to Russetfrond Barleypaw was apprenticed to Yarrowshade