CloudyClan

Oakclan was a large and prosperous group of cats lead by Palestar and his mate/deputy Swiftminnow. They ruled over the other clans in the forest, backed by their numbers and the rich territory they controlled (and the strongest warrior in the clan: their daughter Moorsnow, who was with kits). Palestar believed they had starclan's blessing and lead his clan without ever really having to raise a paw, until one day a portion of their territory was stripped of it's trees and resources by twolegs.

Angry and afraid at this, Palestar chose to believe that the size of their territory and the blessing of the stars would protect them from the twolegs. Only one cat who had more experience with twolegs, a warrior named Whorlfang, disagreed, but she couldn't dare bring up to Palestar.

By the time the twolegs' encroachment became real for the clan, it was too late. Their camp was surrounded and razed by animal control. Cats were taken to be fixed and released, kits and apprentices were taken to never return, and elders died from the shock and movement. Moorsnow lost her mother, her kits, and her trust in her father all in one go.

At the end of it Oakclan was at a forth of their numbers and their territory was destroyed. Palestar, refusing to ask for help from the other three clans he'd once bullied, moved the clan to a dumpyard and there they struggled for survival.

Whorlfang was the only warrior to keep hope. Having been born with twolegs, she knew how to hunt in the streets and she tried to teach the others without drawing Palestar's wrath, but most refused to leave the yard. Then, the stars sent her a message -there was a place out there where a clan could flourish, far away from their old territory.

Whorlfang knew Palestar wouldn't listen so she approached Moorsnow, who was withering away overcome by grief. Whorlfang's dream gave her something to follow again and she agreed to try and help convince her father and the rest of the clan.

But Palestar only saw the plan as a usurpation to his power. He denounced Whorlfang for a cowardly kittypet wanting to run away and turned the clan against her. Left with only very few who would follow her, (a healer named Wingstep, a warrior named Myrtleflower, and Moorsnow) Whorlfang left behind Oakclan and they traveled to find the land Whorlstar had dreamed of and formed a new clan: Splinterclan.

(the kittens are Cedarkit and Pansykit, who Myrtle gave birth to along the way - whoops!)

Even so early in leaf-fall, the bitter cold had already begun to sink its teeth into Troutspeckle's chest. Her breath created a soft fog in front of her, never quite obscuring her vision of Ravenkit and Littlekit, but catching her passing attention nonetheless.

Gyoza sat beside her, his expression fond, but his shoulders remained tense. He took to his role of protector with utmost seriousness, his hawk's gaze never leaving their kits. Troutspeckle tried to stifle her purr, but Gyoza, perceptive as always, caught her in the act. "What is it?" he rumbled.

"Oh, nothing," Troutspeckle hummed in response. "It's just... see how gentle Ravenkit is with Littlekit? Nothing at all like how Brambletuft's kits used to wrestle with each other." She grinned. "But they turned out all right despite all the squabbling, anyhow."

"Hm." Gyoza considered his words for a few moments before saying, "I used to play rough with my littermates, too, but as we grew older 'winning' or 'losing' lost its appeal. I just wanted to make sure they stayed safe, y'know?" The tom appeared lost in his own thoughts for a few moments, then shuddered, as if shaking off the memories. "'Course, it's like they didn't know the meaning of the word. I always had to be dogging their heels to keep them out of trouble. I s'pose I didn't do a very good job of it."

"Don't say that," Troutspeckle retorted firmly. "Some times... bad things happen, and it's nobody's fault. I mightn't of known you then, but I know you now, and I can say for certain that you must have been an excellent big brother."

"Yeah." Gyoza ducked his head, gaze still resolutely pinned on the kits as they tumbled through the fallen leaves. An outsider might see Gyoza's expression as aloof, uninviting, but Troutspeckle knew the tom to be experiencing a moment of bashfulness, unused to being praised. "I think Ravenkit is going to take after me in that aspect. He's going to be a good big brother."

"I reckon you're right about that." Troutspeckle began purring in earnest, then. "Right, indeed."

***

"Ravenshade! Ravenshade! Ravenshade!" The cheering flooded the camp hollow, the staccato swelling as more cats joined their voices. Ravenshade himself stood proudly, chest puffed out and ears pricked forward. Troutspeckle couldn't believe how young he looked, as if he had tumbled out of the nursery only days ago.

Littlepaw's pelt was pressed against Troutspeckle's own, his gaze shining with delight at Ravenshade's triumph. Beside the mother-and-son pair, Willowsplash turned her attention to Troutspeckle as the cheering died down. Cherrystar was still speaking, but Willowsplash, free-spirited as ever, paid her little mind. She leaned towards Troutspeckle conspiratorially, murmuring, "You know, the last cat to graduate so early was Mossfrog, and she's the cleverest cat in the clan. I would have bet my tail that she'd be leader one day, even--"

"Then you'd be short a tail," Bub interrupted, his own tail whisking merrily. 

"Hush, you," Willowsplash retorted, but her words held no bite. Her gaze was gleaming with amusement. "Anyway, Troutspeckle, as I was saying... your sons are surely destined for great things." With that, Willowsplash winked at Littlepaw, who purred timidly in response.

"Mother! Littlepaw!" Ravenshade had finally escaped the throng of cats seeking to congratulate him, stalking over with his head held high. Gyoza followed a few pawsteps behind, limping slightly. He had been complaining of aching joints lately, and Troutspeckle couldn't help the pang of concern at his wobbly steps. "What do you think of my new name? Does it suit me?"

"It's as good a name as any," Willowsplash chuckled. Ravenshade shot the older warrior a brief, surprised glance, as if he hadn't noticed her precense. 

"It's a good name," Troutspeckle agreed, leaning forward to nuzzle her son's cheek. 

"I like it but... I think I would have chosen something else," Littlepaw murmured pensively. At Ravenshade's expectant look, Littlepaw elaborated. "It's so dark, but you've always been light to me. Besides your pelt, of course."

"So, would you have named be 'Ravenlight'?" Ravenshade questioned, tone blasé in a way that was carefully measured.

"Maybe." Littlepaw flicked his tail dismissively. "It doesn't really matter now. I like the name Ravenshade too. I really do!"

"Hm." The sound Ravenshade made reminded Troutspeckle so much of Gyoza, who stood attentively nearby, that Troutspeckle couldn't help the flood of warmth, of love, that filled her. "It's only a matter of time before you get your warrior name, too. If you want, I can even help you train for your assessment..."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. Eris will only test me once I'm ready."

Ravenshade looked ready to argue, but after a moment's hesitation opted to drop the issue. "All right."

"Why don't we all go on a patrol together to celebrate?" Gyoza finally spoke up. "We could head past the river split and look for fish."

"Only you would think of a patrol as a celebration," Troutspeckle chuckled. "But fish are my favorite..."

"Mine too," chirped Littlepaw. "I say we do it!"

"Sure," Ravenshade agreed easily. "I could go for a swim."

***

It had taken her far too long to even realize what was happening. The mad braying of hounds struck discord within Troutspeckle’s mind—the sound held no connection to the safety of Fallenclan’s camp. 

The clan’s elders had been forced to scatter into the camp after two of the hounds came tearing into the elders’ den. Now Troutspeckle stood frozen, unable to make sense of the chaos around her. Wormshade stood pressed against her shoulder, swiping viciously at any dog that dared get too close. 

The two had been holding their own for some time when a particularly fearsome dog snapped its jaws, a loud CLACK a mere breath away from Wormshade’s head. The tom flinched backward, sending both himself and Troutspeckle toppling to the ground. Before either cat could roll to their paws, or lash out, or make a desperate scramble for safety, the dog lunged again, sinking its teeth into Wormshade’s torso. 

Leaping to her paws, Troutspeckle was fully prepared to descend upon the dog with the fury of Starclan, landing blow after blow until it let go of Wormshade, who lay limp like freshkill within locked jaws. She would have done so, if not for the catch of teeth in her scruff, yanking her away from the battle which had already been lost. 

Troutspeckle squirmed, kicking at her assailant only to be dropped unceremoniously, dragged to an obscure corner of camp. “Crawl inside this crevasse—no, in front of you, don’t look at me. Juniperfoot and the apprentices are inside. It’s a tight fit, but you’ll be safe.” Ravenshade’s voice hovered behind Troutspeckle, brisk and as close to panic as Troutspeckle had ever heard it. She realized then that the teeth she had felt had been feline, not canine. She wasn’t even bleeding, but in her fear-addled mind she had been convinced of a threat.

Ignoring Ravenshade’s command, Troutspeckle turned, flinching at the sight of her son, her gentle, thoughtful kit, covered in blood. The sight was so terrible that Troutspeckle let out an unwilling, keening wail. Ravenshade hissed, but Troutspeckle knew his frustration, his anguish, was not directed at her. There was pain in his gaze, and Troutspeckle understood immediately that Ravenshade had witnessed something horrible. 

Swallowing thickly, numb, Troutspeckle turned again, shoving herself into the crevasse Ravenshade had dragged her too. Her pelt was scraped against the rocks in a way that she knew would cause some damage, but she could hardly focus on that, instead drawn to the soft sobs of Moorpaw, who was trembling against Juniperfoot. Moorpaw’s sister were squashed into the makeshift shelter as well. Finchpaw and Ficklepaw were both frozen, eyes wide, while Blossompaw stood fiercely in front of them, as if wanting to leap into the battle with both paws outstretched. Wordlessly, Troutspeckle crowded in beside them, exhaling heavily.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Troutspeckle wheezed, pressing her nose against the top of Moorpaw’s head. “You’ll be okay.”

“But the–the others–they–” Moorpaw sniffled.

“Will fight,” Juniperfoot whispered. “They will fight as best they can.” Her tone told Troutspeckle that the queen was on the verge of shutting down, but was fighting her own battle to stay present for the apprentices’ sake. 

“Yes,” Troutspeckle assented. “All we can do now is wait. You are all so very brave… keep being brave for me, okay?” 

And so it seemed an eternity passed like that, until finally the barking stopped. 

The horrible wailing of cats in pain continued.

***

“He’s…”

“I know, honey.” Troutspeckle wrapped her tail around Littleleaf, whose expression was that of a deer, frozen before a monster on the thunderpath. Troutspeckle squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the look on her son’s face. Gyoza’s death was something she could find it in her heart to bear until both of her kits had turned the other way. Then, Troutspeckle would wail her grief to the sky until her throat was hoarse.

“I can’t believe it…” Littleleaf croaked. Troutspeckle opened her eyes again, resting her chin atop Littleleaf’s head. 

Nearby, Ravenshade was completely silent, eyes, his father’s eyes, never leaving Gyoza’s prone form. His wounds were hidden with rosemary, and some other plant Troutspeckle didn’t recognize. Ravenshade stared, as if determined to burn the image into his mind forever.

For his sake, Troutspeckle could only hope that he would one day forget.

***

“All we can do now is wait,” Shrewscratch murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, sweetness, don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault,” Troutspeckle replied, voice equally soft. She was grateful for the friendship which had blossomed between Shrewscratch and Littleleaf, but it made her chest ache to think that Shrewscratch might somehow think herself responsible for Littleleaf’s condition. “You’ve done the best you can, the best any healer can do.”

“He’ll be okay, I just… I just can’t let the wounds get infected.” Shrewscratch shuddered. 

Ravenshade, who had been unnaturally silent up until this point, suddenly snapped, “Then maybe you should be with him right now. He needs a medicine cat by his side at all times.”

Shrewscratch flinched as if she’d been struck. Troutspeckle stared. “You’re right,” Shrewscratch replied, grimacing. “I’ll–I’ll go stay with him.” Before Troutspeckle could say anything else, the medicine cat had disappeared back into the medicine den.

“Raven,” Troutspeckle chided, feeling more weary than disappointed. “Please. The medicine cats are all doing their best.”

“And if their ‘best’ isn’t good enough?” Ravenshade retorted, claws scraping against the ground. “This never should have happened! I can’t believe she let this happen.” Something in Troutspeckle’s expression must have stopped Ravenshade from continuing his ranting. Changing track, he said, “I won’t let anything like this happen again. I promise. I’m—I apologize for losing my temper. I’ll apologize to Shrewscratch later.” Something in his tone made Troutspeckle doubt this statement, a feeling that gave way to an unsettling sense of foreboding. “I won’t let anything bad happen to either of you. From now on, I’ll work twice as hard to ensure both of you are safe. I won’t fail you again.”

“Oh, Ravenshade, you’ve never failed me,” Troutspeckle replied in a tone filled in equal measure with warmth and sorrow. 

Ravenshade either didn’t hear her words, or chose to ignore her. He had already begun to stalk away.

***

For the second time, Ravenshade’s name was being cheered within the hollow of Fallenclan’s camp. This time, a somberness permeated the air, mingling with the clan’s pride.

Her son, deputy of Fallenclan. Troutspeckle could scarcely believe it. Even as she rose her voice to join the cheers, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. In celebrating Ravenshade, the clan was also mourning Poppyfeather. 

Troutspeckle and Poppyfeather had never been close, but Troutspeckle had deeply admired the former deputy. Without her, Littleleaf might not be here right now. Troutspeckle sneaked a glance at her other son, who stood a ways off, cheering alongside Moorthistle. It felt good, to see him happy. To see both of her kits happy. Still, Troutspeckle could only hope Poppyfeather was watching from Starclan, and that she approved of Cherrystar’s decision. 

The alternative felt unbearable, for such a great warrior to resent her successor. Troutspeckle didn’t know where these thoughts came from. What reason would Poppyfeather have to disdain Ravenshade?

The nagging doubts were never lessened.

***

“This is my mother, Troutspeckle,” Ravenshade said.

“Hi.” Troutspeckle whisked her tail in greeting, regarding the newcomer with the warmth she reserved for everyone she met. So, in reality, the warmth she didn’t reserve at all.

The newcomer, a tom with sharp features and critical eyes, gave Troutspeckle an appraising look. “Levi,” he rumbled eventually, by way of introduction. “Is she a warrior?” he asked Ravenshade.

The tom hadn’t said much at all, but something in his tone, or perhaps his gaze, caused a subtle shift in Ravenshade’s expression. “She’s an elder. If you have any hopes and dreams of becoming a warrior, you will treat her with respect and kindness.” Ravenshade’s tone was light, yet his gaze was cold in a way that might crack stone.

“Well, really, you should treat all cats with respect and kindness,” Troutspeckle mused, forcing a jovial note into her voice.

“Indeed.” Ravenshade smiled. “Now, Levi, why don’t I show you around camp? I can introduce you to a few other cats you’ll want to know.”

“Ravenshade, I was actually wondering if you had time to talk. It’s been awhile since we’ve spoken…,” Troutspeckle began.

“We’ll talk later, Mother.” Ravenshade rested his tail upon Troutspeckle’s shoulder briefly, then turned and stalked away. Levi gave a respectful dip of his to Troutspeckle before following behind Ravenshade, shadowing the smaller cat like an apprentice behind their mentor. 

It seemed as though “later” was a date that kept getting pushed back, later and later.

Troutspeckle sighed. Her sweet sons. At least Littleleaf had found happiness, cultivating a series of lovely friendships. Shrewscratch, Moorthistle, Cloudtuft… They were all wonderful cats. 

Perhaps Ravenshade would finally make a friend in Levi. 

Troutspeckle was afraid.

***

It had been a simple choice, when she noticed the snake. Troutspeckle remembered the first snakebite she’d ever gotten. It had scarred her, and left her weary of the hidden serpents. She had survived, though.

And yet.

Honeykit, sweet little Honeykit, had been staring into the shadows, chattering to herself as she often did. She didn’t notice the snake. It probably hadn’t noticed her either, but as she began to race about in circles, tell some animated story to her imaginary audience, the snake reared, startled. As if Honeykit could ever hurt anybody.

Troutspeckle had barely felt the bite, focused more on shoving a now wailing Honeykit towards Antbite, whose eyes were widened in uncharacteristic shock. 

Then, Littleleaf had been there, pressed against Troutspeckle’s side and murmuring words of comfort. It was a little like when he was a kit, afraid of thunderstorms, and Troutspeckle would sing lullabies until he fell asleep. Only this time, of course, Littleleaf was the one soothing a bemused Troutspeckle. Ravenkit always slept through the storms.

Troutspeckle let out a deep sigh, and fell asleep. 

Ravenshade had been on patrol when his mother died. He had not known of her passing until hours later.

***

Troutspeckle was dying again. That’s what it felt like, watching her sweet son sneak nightshade berries into the beak of a pigeon. Poppyfeather loomed beside Troutspeckle with hatred blazing in her eyes. The former deputy’s bushy tail was sweeping against the ground. Had she still been alive, pebbles would have been sent tumbling about by her tail’s violent motions.

“He isn’t… He won’t…,” Troutspeckle tried. Gyoza was rigid on Troutspeckle’s other side. 

“He already has,” Poppyfeather remarked, ice-cold. Troutspeckle could not feel the stone beneath her paws. She couldn’t smell the soothing mixture of herbs, moss, and rocky dampness that was Fallenclan’s camp. She could barely even hear the voices of her beloved clanmates. Yet she padded desperately behind Ravenshade, shrouded in starlight that the living (to her knowledge) could not see.

The trio of onlookers, vengeance, sorrow, and judgment, watched as Ravenshade entered Cherrystar’s den. They did not follow him inside. They didn’t need to.

It had already been done.

***

“I give you this life… for empathy,” Troutspeckle managed. The words felt scratchy and unnatural on her tongue.

Ravenshade smiled at her, warm and remorseless. “I miss you,” he murmured. “But don’t worry. I’ll take care of Littleleaf. I promise. I’ll make you proud.” At Troutspeckle’s silence, Ravenshade insisted, tone firm, “I won’t disappoint you.”

You already have. Troutspeckle did not speak the words. She couldn’t. “Remember the life I’ve given you, Ravenshade. Remember the reason I’ve given it to you.”

Ravenshade hesitated. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, Gyoza’s eyes… guilt? Hope blossomed in Troutspeckle’s chest, a tentative flower. Then he spoke: “I’m sorry for not being there. I should have been there for you when… I’m sorry.”

Troutspeckle’s heart broke all over again. She smiled, distant. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not upset at you.” Ravenshade beamed, visibly relieved. But I can never forgive you.

“Goodbye, Ravenshade.”

“Goodbye, Mother,” Ravenshade purred, eyes glistening with bittersweet tears.

Ravenshade didn’t know that this would be the last time he would ever have a conversation with his mother.

Troutspeckle knew.

***

“He is my son, you understand,” Troutspeckle hummed. Cherrystar’s gaze didn’t leave the sleeping forms of Marshjump and Bearspring. The littermates still slept in nests mashed together, a mess of ferns, feathers, and fluff. “I love him. I always will.”

“I don’t begrudge you that,” Cherrystar replied, calm in a way that suggested she was discussing something inane, like one’s favorite prey, with Troutspeckle.

“No, I know. You’ve always been the forgiving sort.” Troutspeckle watched as Cherrystar reached out a fading, starry paw and pressed it through Bearspring’s fur, as if she’d intended to gently nudge her daughter awake.

“This needs to end,” Cherrystar stated.

“Yes,” Troutspeckle agreed. “I love him, and that love has grown thorns that burrow into my heart. I know what you intend to do. What… what you all intend to do. I will support you. I won’t turn my gaze away. I will see this through. There’s just one thing I have to ask of you.”

“Yes?” Cherrystar finally pulled her gaze away from her sleeping kits. “What is it?”

“Show him a mother’s love.”

-🐉 (yippee! a fic! i've been terribly busy with life but i'm hoping to start writing more. i would have liked to explore troutspeckle's relationships with gyoza and littleleaf as well, but i ultimately decided to center this fic around the dynamic between trout and raven. also, i'm a believer in the theory that ravenstar became such a good swimmer/fisher because troutspeckle and littleleaf's favorite prey are both fish. i think ravenstar doesn't even like fish. consider that.)