❆ Blizzard ❆

Before Blizzardstorm could even react, Bluefeather was back to normal, like nothing had happened. His cloudy gaze cleared, and Blizzardstorm sat there, astonished.

“...Bluefeather?” Blizzardstorm tentatively reached out with his paw, not knowing whether he should touch him or not. His mew was barely audible in the heavy silence that had fallen over the den. While his voice was steady, his stomach roiled in panic, twisting and writhing like a snake.

Bluefeather jerked back from him, blinking a few times before gasping. It took him a few heartbeats to regain his voice. “Another prophecy?” The medicine cat meowed in disbelief. “So soon after Houndstar? What does it mean?”

As the medicine cat stared at him, Blizzardstorm could feel his chest tighten, opening his mouth but unable to speak a word. “I’ve… I’ve got to go,” he forced out, his head spinning as he turned to exit the den. No. This can’t be happening again! 

“Blizzardstorm, wait—” He didn’t let the medicine cat finish, the sun nearly dazzling him as he burst through the decorative vines. Scrabbling to his paws, he did the only thing he was best at: run. Run like he had, away from Houndstrike. Run like he had, away from the dog. And now, from the inevitable: a message from StarClan that spelled doom for the path that lay ahead. What even was the point anymore? The endless questions that had been raised from the prophecy only served to distress him further.

In his rush, he hadn’t noticed a cat had appeared in his path, and he collided into them, staggering. The impact had prompted a yelp from the cat, and he quickly stumbled back, shaking his head. 

“Sorry!” He blurted out. 

But to his surprise, he was met with not hostility, but warmth.“Blizzardstorm! Just the cat I wanted to see. Are you okay?” His vision cleared, and he saw that the voice belonged to Acornleaf.

At the sight of his former mentor, he sagged with relief. His body begged for him to collapse, having exerted himself well beyond his limits. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, the wind having stolen his breath. “Hey.”

“How are you holding up? Heard you were attacked by a dog. Had us all worried, y’know.”

“Not well.” Again, the impulsive thought of running away wormed its way into his head. He didn’t want to talk further, but out of obligation, he added, “I feel terrible.”

“Let’s go for a walk. Maybe it’ll clear your head,” Acornleaf suggested. Blizzardstorm frowned, but reluctantly agreed.

“Blizzardstorm, did you leave camp last moonhigh?” Goldenstripe asked on their way out, shooting him a puzzling look.

“No, I would’ve remembered if I had,” he responded, his frown deepening. Well, I can’t remember much of anything. I was so tired.

“Huh. I must’ve just imagined it, then. I thought I saw you while I was on guard duty,” he explained.

“Maybe you saw my sister?” Blizzardstorm suggested. That was the only plausible explanation he could come up with. “Or Python?” He was the only other gray tabby. 

“Maybe.” He sounded unsure, but the golden tabby turned away, heading off to the fresh-kill pile. That was weird.

They didn’t go far from the camp, only out of earshot from everyone else. Out of sight, too. “Why’d you want to talk to me?”

“I was worried about you. You’re exhausted, and I’m sure our Clanmates would notice and tell you the same thing. You need a break from all the stress, you’re working yourself too hard,” Acornleaf murmured. “What’s on your mind?”

He sucked in a breath, his mind screaming at him to shut her out and push her away. She only wants to help, he countered.

“Bluefeather had another prophecy,” Blizzardstorm admitted, grimacing to himself before reciting: “Turn back—turn back from the darkness before it’s too late! Beware the one who controls the storms! Blood will spill, and the stars will fall!”

His former mentor was quiet for a few heartbeats, tilting her head curiously, deep in thought. “That is quite odd. Controlling the storms? Is it referring to StarClan? But why would StarClan warn us about themselves?”

“It’s so stupid. Why does it even matter? The last time a prophecy was involved, I lost my kin,” Blizzardstorm hissed, lashing his tail. “And now StarClan’s throwing us into another one?” It must be a cruel joke to them.

“Maybe we can stop more cats from dying if we stop it in time,” Acornleaf suggested. Her words did nothing to temper his turmoil. “Who knows, StarClan works in mysterious ways.” She faltered as she made eye contact with him, padding over to his side. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t even… remember their faces,” he choked back a sob, hot tears threatening to fall down his face. He tried to concentrate and conjure them up in his mind, but all he could make out were fuzzy, gray and white blobs that remained of his father, mother, and brother’s likenesses. “Houndstrike took so much away from me.”

“It’s normal to forget the faces of cats you haven’t seen in a long time,” Acornleaf murmured gently, careful not to startle him. He felt her striped, bushy tail curl around him, and he pressed himself closer to her, seeking out her warmth like a kit nuzzling closer to its mother’s belly.

“Everyone’s moved on from them so… quickly. Like they never even mattered.” He knew it was a selfish thing to think of, given that there were so many Clanmates they’d all lost to Houndstrike. He remembered Squirreltail, and shame washed over him like a tidal wave. She was still grieving her mate, and surely others were as well.

“Tell me about them. What were they like?”

Blizzardstorm was stunned into silence, dumbfounded by the question. “You’ve known my parents longer than I have,” he pointed out after regaining his composure. “My mother was your mentor. And you remember what Spiderpaw was like.”

“Not to the extent that you and your sister did. You’re their kit and littermate. Your parents doted on you three.” Acornleaf purred at the last statement, as if reminiscing on an instance of it. “And plus, I want to hear more about them from your perspective. I’m sure you have more stories about them than I do.”

He couldn’t help but agree with that, scanning his mind for memories. “There was this one time, when neither of my parents were busy with their duties. They devoted most of their day to us. Playing moss-ball, pretending to be enemy Clans… I even remember Spiderpaw catching a butterfly right out of the air, it was amazing! He would’ve made a great warrior.” Blizzardstorm’s gaze shifted to his paws when he spoke the last sentence.

“They would’ve wanted you to live. Honor their memory and live the life your brother never got.” His mentor touched her nose to his cheek, closing her eyes. “I know everything feels difficult right now, but you can pull through it.”

He couldn’t help the sobs that built up in his chest. This time, he let them out, hunching over and curling in on himself, his body shaking. 

“Oh, Blizzardstorm,” Acornleaf whispered. “How long have you been holding these feelings in? It’s not healthy to suppress them. You can always tell me about anything.”

“I know, I know,” he croaked. She waited patiently for him to regain his composure, resting her head on the top of his. A purr rumbled deep from her throat and reverberated through his pelt. Each heartbeat that passed stretched out into seasons before he felt the painful wails slow down. The sun had noticeably gone down a bit from when they’d left camp.

“I’m proud of how far you’ve come. You will make a fine deputy one day,” Acornleaf bunted her head against his, blinking affectionately. “Hopefully Blossomstar will assign one of Squirreltail’s kits to you as an apprentice when they are of age. You’d be a great mentor, and I’m sure you’re ready for that responsibility.”

“Thank you.” He’d heard the words from Oakwhisper during his silent vigil, but it was reassuring to hear his other mentor say so as well. Am I ready, though?

“Take it easy, okay? I don’t want to see you going on patrols any time soon, especially after a dog nearly mauled you. Can’t have you get attacked again.”

“I will.” His eyes glittered with appreciation as he watched Acornleaf pad away, presumably to go hunting. Blizzardstorm appreciated the space she had given him to go back to camp, slipping through the gorse tunnel. His former mentor’s words had given him an idea.

Glancing around, he spotted the brown and white pelt of Fawnleap, laying in the shade of one of StormClan’s many trees. Picking out a rabbit from the fresh-kill pile, he stalked towards her, seeing her ears twitch as he got closer. Relieved that she wasn’t asleep, he sat down on his haunches next to her.

“Is that rabbit I smell?” She purred, lifting her head. He dropped it by her paws, recalling her words at his parents’ burial.

“You were friends with my parents, right?” Fawnleap nodded, turning her curious gaze to him. “I was wondering if you could tell me a story about them.”

“I’m not as great a storyteller as my father, but sure,” Fawnleap murmured, a soft smile on her face. Blizzardstorm felt a pang of sadness, having forgotten about Thrushwing’s death. Another cat I can’t remember, great. “I wish he were here… Why did Houndstar kill him? He was an elder.”

“Even if he’s gone, parts of him still remain,” Blizzardstorm said hesitantly, remembering the conversation with his mentor earlier. “Your very existence is proof of that. He lives on through the stories he’s passed down, like the creation of StormClan. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job taking up his mantle.”

“It seems like only a moon ago you were a kit,” the spotted she-cat purred, taking a bite of the rabbit. It was then that he realized his line of sight had grown to meet at Fawnleap’s chin, remembering how she’d loomed over him and his littermates. She nudged the rabbit towards him, upturning it with her paw. “You should eat some.”

“I ate already.” It was a half-truth; he had done so, but much earlier in the day. He just didn’t feel hungry at the moment.

The she-cat didn’t push it further, but she couldn’t hide the concern that flashed across her face. 

“Your father was so reckless when we were all apprentices. It was so obvious he had a crush on Whitefur, and we used to tease him about it all the time. You’d be surprised how much he changed after becoming a warrior. If you saw him when he was younger, you probably wouldn’t have recognized him.”

Blizzardstorm recalled all the mischief he and his littermates had gotten into as kits, and tried to picture a smaller version of his father running around camp and getting under StormClan warriors’ paws. But when his image of him kept warping and changing pelt patterns, he grew more and more distressed, breaking the vision.

“One time, Lightningstar—Lightningpaw, at the time, went after a hare to impress your mother.” Fawnleap’s whiskers quivered in amusement, holding back a mrrow of laughter. 

“A hare?” He tried to imagine what the animal looked like, having never heard of it before. He could still hear the heavy thudding of his heart, but it was only now that it began to slow.

“It’s like a rabbit, but much, much more dangerous. They’re bigger and faster, and have blinded cats before with their sharp claws. Even the most seasoned warriors hesitate to hunt them,” Fawnleap warned. “They’re more common in SunClan territory, but sometimes we get them here. When your father returned to camp with scratches all over his pelt, his mentor practically chewed his ear off. It was nearly the size of him! No idea how he carried it back, but it fed the whole Clan, though.”

“Did it work?” 

“Honestly, I think Whitefur was more worried about him than anything,” the she-cat meowed. “She would constantly check on him in the medicine den. Leafpelt’s mentor, Fennelfern, would get so annoyed. Your mother was always quick to learn new battle moves. I remember during a border scuffle with SunClan, she took on a fully grown warrior! It was amazing. No wonder Lightningstar made her his second-in-command.

“He was always so smitten with her during their apprenticeship, and at first, she only thought of him as a friend. It was only when they got their warrior names and Lightningstripe mellowed out a bit that they became mates.”

“My father’s warrior name was Lightningstripe?” Blizzardstorm cried in astonishment. “How did my mother get Whitefur as hers?”

“Seedstar was quite a fan of using the word fur,” Fawnleap sniffed disdainfully. “We used to have a Maplefur and a Sunfur. There was a rumor that after he lost his sixth life, he got lazy with names. She was quite devastated after her ceremony.”

Blizzardstorm let out a snort. “Maybe Seedstar’s warrior name was terrible, and he was getting revenge.”

 “If I’d been named Fawnfur, I would’ve rioted,” she chuckled. “Seedstar also named Cinderclaw and Wolfclaw, which was an interesting choice.”

“Were they always bullies?”

“Pretty much. Their apprenticeship was delayed by a moon after they nearly killed a SunClan cat in a battle.” Blizzardstorm recoiled in shock. “They got an earful from Seedstar and their mentors.”

“What was Houndstrike like?”

“He was a bit of a hot-head, but loyal to our Clan. At least, under Seedstar, that is.” Fawnleap let out a huff of exasperation. She was quiet for a few heartbeats, staring off into the distance, her eyes fixated on nothing in particular. ”It’s funny how we don’t fully appreciate the time we have with our loved ones until they’re gone. You never know when’s the last time you’ll ever get to spend with them. Ravenflight… he was a wonderful mate and father. Mistlepaw looks so much like him. I wish he were here to see them become warriors.”

Blizzardstorm had nothing to say to that, licking her on the ear as a gesture of comfort. She finished the rabbit and started licking her fur clean, stopping only when Blizzardstorm ducked down to do it for her. In response, she smoothed the fur on his back, which brought a fresh jolt of grief. His mother had done the same before him and his littermates’ apprentice ceremony. Finally, he asked the question he’d been wanting to ask the entire time, while Fawnleap groomed his fur. “Does it ever get any better?”

“Yes. It’ll never fully go away, though, and the pain will always be with you, no matter what.”

“Oh.” Blizzardstorm’s tail drooped.

“But you can mitigate it. I found that focusing on what I have right now, my kits and my friends, instead of what I’ve lost, helps.” Blizzardstorm expected her to glance towards Flutterpaw and Mistlepaw, who had just returned from training with their mentors, but her gaze remained steady on him as she continued. “Some days you might feel terrible, and some days you might feel like you’re on top of the world, but that’s just a part of the journey.”

“But I want to feel better now.” He didn’t want to become warped by grief like Houndstrike had, a hollow husk of the cat he used to be. He couldn’t bear the thought of killing so many cats after losing someone he loved. 

But you’ve already done that. You killed Houndstrike in your grief, remember? Oakwhisper’s voice sounded as if he was right beside them, slithering its way into Blizzardstorm’s ear. He fought the urge to bristle in surprise, forcing his fur to lay flat against his spine. 

No, I’m nothing like him. I will never be like him. I had to kill him to save everyone else. Blizzardstorm squeezed his eyes shut, recalling their fight, and Houndstrike’s last moments. The difference between him and I is that I had a reasonable cause. He didn’t. 

“—You have to give yourself time to heal from the wounds. It may take moons, even seasons to truly heal, but it will happen.” Fawnleap’s gentle mew, as light as a feather floating on the wind, guided him out of the labyrinth that was his mind. “We are more than what’s happened to us in the past.”

She touched her nose to his, and a sense of warmth blossomed from his chest, spreading throughout his body, from nose to tail-tip. He made a mental note to himself to visit her more often.

“How’s your leg?” Fawnleap asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “That was dangerous, leading the dog away. Brave, but reckless.” She fussed over him like he was a kit, licking the top of his head.

“Hey, I’m still alive,” Blizzardstorm retorted, trying to escape her licks. “It still hurts a little. I should probably go check with Bluefeather about my wounds.” He remembered how he ran off, wincing in shame. “Thank you again for telling me more about my parents.” 

“Of course.” Fawnleap nuzzled him one last time before he drew away, heading for the medicine den.

“I’m sorry for earlier, Bluefeather,” he began, but the medicine cat cut him off with a flick of his tail. Blizzardstorm felt him sniff the wounds on his hind leg, checking their state before redressing them with fresh cobwebs and marigold.

“No need, I know how you felt at the moment. Who could blame you, after everything that’s happened?” Blizzardstorm breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t hate him for his outburst. “Are your paws still sore?”

Blizzardstorm gasped, having forgotten about the reason he’d come to the medicine den in the first place. He nodded, and the grayish-blue tom popped a few dock leaves into his mouth, chewing them and slathering the goop onto his cracked pawpads. The gray tabby dipped his head in gratitude.

“You should take it easy on your paws for a while. Also, some cat left this for you.” Bluefeather disappeared into the shadows of the den, before emerging with a grouse clasped between his teeth. He gasped at the sight of his favorite piece of prey, his mind already racing to guess who had done such a thing. His sister? Or maybe his former mentor?

Bluefeather probably would’ve told me if it had been Splashtail or Acornleaf. It must’ve been a surprise to him too.

“Thank you,” Blizzardstorm murmured, grabbing it. I’m sure Splashtail would love to share this with me. 

He found his sister heading towards the warrior’s den, quickly getting her attention before she disappeared into the cave. Her eyes lit up once she saw what was hanging from his jaws.

“Come share this grouse with me,” Blizzardstorm invited, beckoning her with a flick of his tail. “How was hunting with Blossomstar?”

“Oh, she’s not that bad. She actually taught me something new,” Splashtail meowed, before taking a bite out of the bird.

“Really? What was it?” The silence was almost unbearable as his sister gulped down the prey. Why was she defending the same cat that had supported Houndstrike? Who had, according to Bluefeather and Houndstrike himself, killed her own sister in cold blood?

“Most birds nest up in trees, right? Well, some species keep their eggs tucked away under foliage, on the forest floor,” Splashtail explained. “We found quite a few. I might have to teach you sometime.”

Blizzardstorm’s eyes widened in disbelief. Was this a ploy from Blossomstar to gain his sister’s trust? If so, he wasn’t falling for it. He wasn’t forgiving her so easily. Blizzardstorm didn’t voice his suspicions outloud, however. He simply nodded, taking her offer. He wanted to tell her about the prophecy Bluefeather had received, but didn’t want to ruin her mood. 

Beware the one who controls the storms… An icy wave of realization crashed down upon him, chilling him to the bone. He had to keep an eye out now.

What if StarClan was referring to Blossomstar?

@castiels-destiny