Overgrowth @overgrowth-wc - Tumblr Blog

Tensions are rising, but there's relief to be found in what normalcy remains. Also, a long awaited reunion.

Piketail slowly crept through the trees, ear pricked and head constantly swiveling. In the early hour before dawn, the small forest was awash in shadows. The moon had already set, and thus only what scant starlight remained lit his path as he picked his way forward. Each step crunched softly in the freshly fallen snow. He needed to be careful- he knew for a fact that he was being followed. The only problem was that Piketail didn’t know where his pursuer was. Every noise made his ear twitch towards it, mouth opening to taste the air, but no, it was always just the natural sounds of the forest, no hint of danger on the cold breeze. Still on edge, he continued making his way forward. All he needed to do was make it to the tree line before-

A weight slammed into Piketail, on his left side, of course, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him to the ground. The gray tom tried to twist, sink his teeth into his assailant, but the other cat had him by the scruff now. Piketail’s head was forced into the freezing leaf litter, debris entering his mouth as he spat and snarled, but the Riverclanner couldn’t help but freeze himself when he felt claws prick at the base of his neck. Slumping in defeat, he let out a sigh, reaching up to tap the other cat’s leg with a sheathed forepaw. Immediately he was released, and Piketail shoved himself to his feet. He then turned, puffed up with pride, to an equally excited Littlepaw.

“Excellent work!” Piketail mewed, eye slitting affectionately as Littlepaw beamed. “I had no idea you were there. You’ve really come a long way with this- I think you could pass any assessment now.” And that was certainly true. Piketail had dedicated all his spare time to making sure Littlepaw’s skills were up to standard. The golden tom had improved dramatically in his stealth stalking, in no small part thanks to Piketail sharing tips with him that he had learned from Briarmask, like using different plants to disguise your scent. While maybe not the most important skill for a Riverclanner to have, Piketail wanted to make sure that at least one warrior in the clan could make an excellent spy or information gatherer, especially in light of everything going on. Littlepaw had also come up to par with his fighting skills. While he may not ever be Riverclan’s strongest warrior, he could certainly hold his own now, which was really all that mattered. His apprentice had always been a bit hesitant in his spars, seeming reluctant to hurt an ally, but had thrown himself into battle training after the attack on Piketail and Splashpaw. He understood now that he needed to sometimes hurt someone to prevent someone else from getting hurt, a harsh but necessary lesson. With this most recent success, Piketail was confident in Littlepaw’s ability to become a warrior. He would speak to Oakstar about scheduling his assessments as soon as possible.

Maybe on the way back from meeting the other leaders.

Piketail had been nervous when he approached Oakstar about that first meeting with Rosestar and Shalestar. Yes, he had told Oakstar briefly about what was going on, but had been vague about how frequently he was meeting the others, as well as only telling his leader what he was positive of. For a while, that had been very little- to then come out of the blue with the news of Stonestar, who had been, well, maybe not a friend, but definitely not an enemy to Riverclan for most of Oakstar’s reign, left Piketail anxious about Oakstar’s reaction. And it had been a somewhat well-founded anxiety, as Oakstar had scoffed at the news. Coppertail, sitting beside him, had been a little more open to the idea- his opinion of Stonestar had sunk after the incident at the Gathering with Softgaze. But Splashpaw had been a huge help, laying out the evidence so systematically and thoroughly one would think he had attended all the meetings and witnessed all the events himself. While not entirely convinced, it had been enough to get Oakstar to agree to meet with the other leaders, who were then successful in fully swaying the old tom. The news about Fernfire’s attack had only confirmed everything, and now Oakstar was furious. Thankfully that fury had been tempered into focus, although everything was still tense.

Hopefully, the meeting this morning would ease some of that tension. The two Windclan warriors that had brought the news of the meeting had informed Oakstar that Shalestar, Rosestar, and Mintfrost, the de facto Thunderclan representative, believed they had enough evidence for a concrete case. Now the only issue was preparing and having a backup plan for when things inevitably went wrong. Oakstar had asked Piketail to accompany him to the meeting, so the gray warrior would be leaving camp with his leader and deputy here soon. But before that he had wanted to test Littlepaw one last time, and was glad that he had done so. Littlepaw was ready to become a warrior, and he’d have the chance to make the case for it later today.

Littlepaw bounced alongside Piketail all the way back to camp, giving his mentor an affectionate headbutt as they arrived in the clearing. He then took off for the medicine den. Thank the ancestors, the borage that Rosestar had delivered to Oakstar was working wonders, not just for Goldenpaw, but for the other sick cats as well. The elders were already back in their den, Pebblefoot on the mend, and Goldenpaw starting to perform light duties, although she had been dismayed to learn how long she had been sick. The moon she had spent in the medicine den set her training back, which could possibly delay her warrior’s ceremony. Goldenpaw had been quiet since she first learned of the possibility, following Splashpaw’s instructions to the letter, with no snarking or biting remarks to be heard. Littlepaw had suggested that maybe the fever had fried her brain, which Splashpaw scoffed at, before announcing in a superior tone that the fever had actually just been all of Goldenpaw’s repressed anger fighting its way out of her system, leaving a more docile apprentice behind. In Piketail’s opinion, almost dying and being completely at the mercy of a cat you had picked on was an incredibly humbling experience. Goldenpaw had also been, for the first time in her life, the sole object of her mother’s attention, which might have done something to soothe the hurt the young molly felt. It also seemed to have made her realize that maybe she didn’t want to be the center of Dawnface’s world, as the pale-yellow molly was a first-class fusser. Hopefully, Goldenpaw had learned a lot from her experience being ill. In the meanwhile, she was being much nicer to Littlepaw, who in return had promised to do everything he could to help her catch up in training. We have to get our names together, and I don’t want to wait, he declared, and Piketail had seen the way Goldenpaw straightened up at the announcement, both touched and motivated. Goldenpaw was a model apprentice, anyway- a week or so of practice and she would more than likely make the cut. Although, it would be interesting to see what her third assessment would be…

Shaking himself from his wandering thoughts, Piketail paused, unsure of what to do. There was no one for him to go and see, as the only cat he would visit would be Splashpaw, who was no doubt asleep at this hour. He decided to get something small to eat to pass the time waiting for Oakstar. It would be a bit before the sun broke the horizon and they would head out, so he could finally take a breather.

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Piketail walked stoically a few steps besides and behind Oakstar, mildly uncomfortable that he was walking in Coppertail’s usual position. Typically, the deputy would walk to the right and a step behind the leader as a mark of respect and a show of their own authority. However, due to Piketail only having his right eye, Oakstar had bid him walk on the right so he couldn’t be unexpectedly blindsided. Coppertail seemed unbothered, merely shifting to walk on the leader’s left, but Piketail worried about the image it presented for the other clans. He didn’t want to overstep any bounds, after all, but practicality was winning out over tradition in this case. Piketail knew he was focusing on something stupid to not think about what he was actually nervous about, but it was the easier option. This meeting would determine what happened at the Gathering occurring a little less than a week from now, which would in turn determine how justice was delivered. It felt surreal, that it was all finally coming to an end, but that nebulous end was terrifying in its lack of predictability. Would anyone else die? Get hurt? If they really had to confront Stonestar in the Thunderclan camp, fighting was almost a guarantee… these thoughts spun round and round in his head, and abruptly Piketail found himself at a halt, peering out over the edge of the Fourtrees hollow.

Shalestar was already there, sitting in her typical relaxed way. Instead of her deputy, one of the warriors from yesterday, the golden-brown tabby tom, was sitting with her instead. Teaselpaw sat on her other side, trying not to look nervous. Oakstar quickly made his way down the slope, impressive for his age, nodding congenially to Shalestar as they came to a stop in front of her. The gray leader was immediately on her feet, already starting to walk towards Shadowclan territory as she returned the nod.

“Well met, Oakstar. Let’s get going.” And that was that. The six cats trooped along in silence, occasionally shooting each other glances but not speaking. Teaselpaw offered Piketail a smile, which he returned as warmly as he could. When they arrived on the Shadowclan border the sun was just over the horizon, its rays offering a bit of warmth and illuminating their clouded breath. Thankfully, there was already cats waiting for them across the border- a familiar crew, Piketail was surprised to realize. Marshfoot, Briarmask, and Batflight were sitting just inside the tree line, barely visible in the shadows. They beckoned the approaching party across with their tails, seemingly just as reluctant to break the perfect silence. Every noise seemed amplified in the still morning, which was a good thing, because it made it perfectly clear there were no approaching cars. The Windclan party crossed first, then the Riverclanners, and they stopped for barely a moment to exchange greetings with the Shadowclan warriors before they were off at a trot towards the Shadowclan camp. Seems everybody is anxious to get this over with.

Piketail had never been to the Shadowclan camp, never been in the territory, and realized with a jolt that this is where he wanted to live. The gray warrior took in his surroundings with a curious eye, and was happy to realize that… he really didn’t mind it. The tall pine trees, a far cry from the mostly rolling grasses of Riverclan territory, felt sheltering instead of claustrophobic. The frozen ground squished in some places, familiar to him in a comforting way. The air smelt fresh and sharp, the pine needles adding an almost spicy hint to the air, and yes, Piketail could imagine himself hunting in these woods, slipping through these shadows, and being quite happy with it. Maybe he would get a chance to speak with Rosestar today. And his siblings as well. He couldn’t help but shoot glances at Marshfoot, his sister, and could feel himself almost vibrating with the need to tell her. She looks like ma, he realized, in the shape of her face and the way she carried herself. Piketail’s heart squeezed in his chest, but it was a good kind of squeeze. Grayfeather was still here, in Marshfoot’s face and his memories, and who knows, maybe he would see their mother in Frogthroat as well. Guess we’ll find out, he mused, as they had now arrived at the Shadowclan camp.

One by one the cats ducked through the thorn tunnel, emerging into a surprisingly busy clearing. A patrol was waiting for them to move so they could leave. Kittens were starting to tumble out of the nursery. A pack of about five apprentices, including a shockingly bright, mostly white calico, who stood out amongst her darker peers, were sparring in a group off to the side. A young warrior was nodding seriously to something an elder was telling him as they ate together near one of the dens. It was almost chaotic, but warm in a way Piketail wasn’t expecting. From the bustle Rosestar emerged, looking more serious than Piketail had ever seen him. Accompanying him, and Piketail’s stomach dropped, was Lizardspots, the former deputy looking stoic. The pointed ginger tom nodded his greetings to them, looking them over silently for a moment.

“Well,” he mewed, “seems like there’s too many of us to cram into the medicine den. We’ll just have to meet out here in the clearing. The clan already knows what’s going on, so no worries about keeping secrets.” With that Rosestar and Lizardspots led them over to what was assumedly the medicine den, an antsy Fernfire pacing outside of it. He slipped inside at their approach, and Rosestar bid them all to sit in a tight circle, leaving just enough room for their Thunderclan compatriots. It was quite the group- Rosestar, Lizardspots, Marshfoot, Briarmask, Piketail, Oakstar, Coppertail, Gorsestorm, Shalestar, and Teaselpaw, soon joined by Fernfire and Snowdrift, who were supporting a limping Mintfrost between them. To her credit, the Thunderclan molly betrayed no hint of pain or discomfort, simply easing herself to the ground between the two medicine cats.

“My apologies,” she rasped. “I’m afraid I can’t put much pressure on my hip yet, so laying down it is.” Fernfire snorted. Sitting next to the reclined deputy, he was barely taller than her.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “they’d have to look down to see me anyway. At least I have company.” Rosestar snorted. The medicine cat then seemed to remember something, hustling back over to his den and emerging quickly thereafter with a… pinecone?

“Here,” Fernfire mewed, dropping the cone before him. “There’s a lot of us here, so whoever is holding the cone gets to speak. Who would like to start?” Shalestar immediately lifted a paw, and Fernfire batted the cone over to her. Pinning it beneath her foot, the gray leader cleared her throat.

“Let’s get right to it. Bluetail was able to meet Nightrock last night, but only briefly. He had some bad news.” Shalestar shot the Thunderclanner’s a careful look. “Stonestar has told the clan that Mintfrost attacked Snowdrift and killed him on Shadowclan territory, and that he lost a life escaping. He also said that her apprentice is missing, either dead or an accomplice. The entire clan is in an uproar. Snowdrift’s mother and brother did not believe the news and have since disappeared. Nightrock was unsure of where they have gone.” Piketail’s gaze immediately shot to Snowdrift, who looked like he was going to be sick. The same nausea stirred in his own gut. Disappeared? “Stonestar also used Gorsestorm’s appearance in the territory to further support his own lies. He has told Thunderclan that I am responsible for Falconstar’s death and greedy for territory, Rosestar is aiding Mintfrost in return for hunting rights, and that Oakstar is at least complicit, if not actively aiding, these efforts. Apparently, we all seek to depose the medicine cats and solidify our own rule over the forest unchallenged. Because Thunderclan will not join us, we will attempt to take their territory by force.” Piketail felt like the ground was swaying under his feet. Stonestar was blaming all of this on the other clans? Saying they wanted to… exterminate Thunderclan? And Thunderclan believed it? Well, he thought uncomfortably, shooting the devastated Snowdrift another glance, not all of them.

Rosestar cleared his throat, lifting a paw in a silent request. Shalestar obligingly knocked the cone to him.

“They probably fled to the Town, seeing as neither we, nor, I’m assuming, Riverclan, have seen or scented them on our territory.” A confirmation from Oakstar. “If you would like, I can send a patrol into the Town to try and find them.” He batted the cone over to Snowdrift, who fumbled it for a moment before replying.

“I would be forever in your debt,” he said, voice cracking only slightly. He cleared his throat. “We assumed Stonestar would lie to Thunderclan. I think we can also safely say that they will not be attending the Gathering this week.” The snowy tom fell silent. They were all thinking the same thing, anyway. This means we have to go to the Thunderclan camp. Mintfrost reached out and gently took the cone from Snowdrift.

“Showing up with the parties from each clan necessary for the trial will be seen as an act of war. We must come up with an approach that will hopefully prevent as much bloodshed as possible.” And really, they were stuck between a badger and a dog. The law required all witnesses be present to give testimony, as well as leaders, deputies, and medicine cats, which meant that… almost twenty cats from the three other clans would have to be there. To Thunderclan, it would seem like Stonestar was telling the truth. Unless-

Before he really realized what he was doing, Piketail was raising a paw for the cone, and a moment later was holding it in place in front of him. Nervously, he darted looks at the gathered cats, all looking at him expectantly. Stars, he hated being stared at. Especially by his father, who was looking at him with barely concealed interest.

“I agree that all of us simply showing up at the Thunderclan camp will go poorly. Unfortunately, we all must be there. But Thunderclan thinks Snowdrift is dead, right? What if we sent Snowdrift with a small group of cats into the camp? Him being alive will at least be enough to cast doubt on Stonestar’s story, and the clan will believe what he has to say. Right?” He was looking at Snowdrift now, and was relieved to see the tom nodding. Before the medicine cat could even ask, Piketail hit the cone towards him, happy to no longer be the center of everyone’s attention.

“That might work- providing, of course, we can make it to the camp without any issues.” True, Stonestar might have patrols waiting for us. He knows we’ll have to come after him on the Gathering night. “But I agree that if I can speak to my clanmates, I can get them to listen.” Oakstar waved his tail for the cone, which was quickly provided.

“Never in all my years did I think it would come to this, but alas, these are the times we live in,” the grizzled tom mewed. “I believe our best approach would be to have additional warriors, besides our witnesses. We meet at Fourtrees and moved together towards the Thunderclan camp. That way, if we run into any ambushes or patrols, the witnesses can continue to the camp, while the other warriors hold off the attackers. Once we are near the camp, we can send Snowdrift ahead with a few warriors. Ancestor’s willing, that will be enough to keep fighting out of the camp.” A solemn silence fell over the group. Essentially, they were planning an invasion of Thunderclan. It would be bloody. Cats could die, especially if Thunderclan thought the other clans sought to destroy them. After a few moments, Rosestar heaved a great sigh, which Oakstar took as a sign to once more pass the cone.

“Alright. We pick our patrols. We collect our witnesses. We meet at Fourtrees, same as any Gathering night, then fight our way to the Thunderclan camp where we render justice for the atrocities committed. Great. One last question- what do we do about Featherfall? I’m assuming your little Thunderclan informant would have mentioned that his leader’s mate was back from the dead if he was aware of it. If she’s not there for the trial, how are we going to bring her to justice?” There was a pause. Marshfoot reached out and snagged the cone.

“The question is, is Featherfall still a clan cat? If she is, the laws are clear. We’ll have to find her and drag her to stand trial at next moon’s Gathering, provided she is not in the Thunderclan camp for this one. If she’s not, well. Then we can deal with her like any other rogue.” The spotted molly shot Mintfrost an apologetic glance, but her fellow deputy remained stoic. And as harsh as it was, Marshfoot was right. If Featherfall was no longer to be considered a clan cat, then she was owed no trial. The clans could simply deal with her as they saw fit. Shalestar waved for and received the cone.

“How many winters has it been since Featherfall went to the twolegs? I know it happened before I was born. And do we know how old Featherfall was when she was taken?” The gray leader cast a questioning glance at Mintfrost, who answered the prompt.

“It was when I was a kit, so… seven, eight winters? And she had been a warrior for a few seasons.” Shalestar nodded, brow furrowed in thought.

“So Featherfall has been out of the clan longer than she was in it. I would say that means she is no longer a clan cat.” Oakstar let out a thoughtful hum, the cone soon sitting in front of him.

“I would be more cautious than that. I have always been of the opinion that once a clan cat, always a clan cat. Featherfall was a full warrior who served her clan for several seasons before tragedy took her away. I would say she is owed a trial, despite her absence.” Rosestar was nodding, and Mintfrost looked slightly relieved, voicing her own agreement. Shalestar looked put out, her expression almost pouting, which Piketail couldn’t help but give a weak smile at. “I understand you want a swift distribution of justice,” Oakstar said gently to Shalestar, “but we cannot circumvent the law for our own desires. That path only leads to injustice of its own.” The Windclan leader, now looking more determined than annoyed, nodded. Besides her, Gorsestorm motioned for the cone.

“Worse comes to worst, I spent some time in the Town and know a lot of her haunts. I would be able to help a search party find and detain her for trial.” Rosestar rumbled happily, waving a paw.

“There we go,” he purred, rolling the cone under his paw. “We should sort out our problems like this more often, if we can come up with solutions so easily. Now, is there anything else that we would like to discuss?” Mintfrost cleared her throat.

“I can go over the best way to approach the camp with the leaders. I understand this is a necessary evil now, but I trust you all not to use this information against us in the future, and to not disseminate this information too loosely among your warriors.” The other leaders nodded, Rosestar rising to his feet.

“Well then!” He announced. “Let us retire to my den. The rest of you, feel free to mingle with my warriors. We will all need to get along with each other, at least for the next week.” With that, the leaders, along with a slow but steady Mintfrost, went off to Rosestar’s den. The rest of the assembled cats were left looking at each other. Briarmask cleared her throat, shooting Piketail a glance before homing in on Teaselpaw.

“Hey Teasel, wanna meet the other apprentices?” She mewed brightly, leading the now eager molly over to where they had seen the sparring group. Gorsestorm, looking put out, turned to Coppertail, who was now sitting closest to him.

“I’m here in Palesky’s place, my name is Gorsestorm…” Coppertail suitably distracted and the medicine cats disappearing into the medicine den, Piketail was left alone with Marshfoot and Lizardspots. He took a deep breath, stomach flopping like a fish on the shore, and padded up to them. Marshfoot greeted him brightly.

“Hey there, fish face. I heard all about your being star sent. How does it feel to be such a legend amongst us mere mortals?” He tried to return her grin, but his smile was forced, and he couldn’t help but glance at Lizardspots. At least he also looks nervous, Piketail mused wryly.

“Well now that everyone knows, terrible. It’s hard to be obscure when everyone is looking at you all the time. Uh, where is Frogthroat at?” Marshfoot narrowed her eyes, seeming displeased he didn’t rise to her bait, before perking up.

“Oh, he’s in the nursery! Brooksong had their kits just yesterday. Let’s go, you should come and meet them.”

“I’ll come along as well,” Lizardspots said abruptly. Marshfoot shot him a bemused look before nodding, leading the two toms over to a densely walled den. Piketail cursed to himself- Lizardspots was walking on his left, so he couldn’t get a good gauge on the other tom’s expression.

There was a whole passel of kittens playing outside the den, watched over by an older gray tabby queen, a small black and white queen, and an elder, a scrawny black tom. Too distracted by their games and the story the elder was telling, the kits allowed the warriors to slip into the nursery unbothered. Inside, Frogthroat was curled up around Brooksong, looking down at her belly with a fondness Piketail had never seen from him. His brother looked up at their entrance, seeming pleased to see his Riverclan friend.

“Piketail!” He greeted quietly, Brooksong looking up in interest. “Well met. I figured you might be coming today.” The gray warrior carefully approached Brooksong, Marshfoot and Lizardspots a few steps behind, relieved when the tabby queen gave him a friendly greeting. Piketail knew queens could be a bit sensitive, so he was glad to see her warm welcome. Nestled up against her side were three tiny kittens, piled onto each other for warmth as they slept. They were quite obviously newborns, so perfectly small and with eyes and ears tightly shut. Two mollies and a tom, the mollies a dark brown and the tom a warm gray, all with darker spots, a perfect combination of their parents. Piketail felt his heart swell at the sight of them. Hello, he thought to himself. I’m your uncle.

And that realization is what gave him a courage to take a deep breath and speak.

“I’m glad I got the chance to speak to you all in private.” He cast a glance at Brooksong. “I mean, Marsh and Frog and… Lizardspots- no offense Brooksong. But I… learned something from my mother recently, and have been wanting to speak to you all about it.” Frogthroat and Marshfoot, who had come around to sit behind her brother, looked confused but intrigued. Lizardspots, now sitting on Piketail’s right, let out a hefty sigh. Straightening up, the former deputy set his jaw.

“I think I know what you’re about to say, and I won’t make you take on what should be my responsibility. May I?” And perhaps it was a bit cowardly, but Piketail was relieved at the offer. He nodded quickly, carefully watching his siblings as Lizardspots began to speak.

“First, I must apologize to you all, because I have been hiding the truth from you for so long. Marsh, Frog…” Lizardspots trailed off. “I told you your mother was a Town cat who died giving birth to you, but that wasn’t true. Her name is Grayfeather, and she’s a Riverclan warrior.” And oh stars, he was saying her name is Grayfeather, she is a Riverclan warrior. At that moment Piketail came to the dreadful realization- Lizardspots didn’t know Grayfeather was dead. Meanwhile, Marshfoot and Frogthroat were staring at their father like he had three heads. “We met when I was visiting Riverclan after I was first made deputy. Things… progressed from there, and maybe a year later you all were born. Reedpelt helped Grayfeather sneak out of camp so I could be there for the birth. Originally the plan was for you three to be raised in Riverclan, but then you two came out looking too much like me. It would be undeniable that you were my kin, but I didn’t want to leave your mother alone, especially as it would be difficult to explain why she had no kits. So, we were forced to separate the three of you- Piketail to Riverclan, the both of you with me, in Shadowclan.” Now Piketail was too busy staring at the floor to see what his sibling’s reactions were, mind racing at the thought he would have to tell them their mother was dead.

“…Pike? You’re our brother?” Marshfoot whispered, and Piketail looked up at her almost guiltily. She and Frogthroat were staring at him now, and Piketail couldn’t really read the expressions on their faces, as his eye was starting to blur with tears.

“Yes,” he admitted softly. “My… our mother only told me a few weeks ago, and I haven’t seen you two to say anything until now, but-“ His throat tightened, and now they were looking at him in concern, even Lizardspots and Brooksong. Piketail took a deep breath and straightened from his crouch, so he could look at his family as best as he could. “She only told me because… she got so sick, without Reedpelt, Greencough came to us so early this season, and then she-“ his voiced cracked. “She told me when she was dying. She said she wished she had gotten a chance to meet you in this life. That she loved you, all three of you, so much, and that she’s waiting for the day we’ll all finally be together.” Piketail was crying now, but so was everyone else, so he didn’t feel too awkward about it. Marshfoot and Frogthroat looked devastated, confusion and grief warring on their faces. Lizardspots was staring at him in shock, while Brooksong blinked away her own tears as she tried to comfort her mate.

“Grayfeather’s dead?” His father whispered, and Piketail gave him a miserable nod. Lizardspots sat frozen for another moment before standing slowly. In a moment, he was there, pressed into Piketail’s side, skinny tail wrapped around the gray warrior like he was just a kit again. “I’m so sorry, son. I’m so, so sorry.” And Piketail’s heart cracked a little bit at son, at the fact that his father was here. And so Piketail pressed his head into his dad’s shoulder and let the still fresh grief overcome him for a moment. There was another press against his other side, then another warmth in front of him, Marshfoot and Frogthroat’s scents wreathing around him. Piketail finally had the family he always dreamed of. He knew the joy would come back, that they would be happy about this, but for now, it just hurt.

After a while they all pulled away, a sort of numbness settling over the group. They curled up next to each other, flanks brushing each other in support, and Frogthroat once again wrapped around his mate and children. From there, he shot his father a deadpan look.

“When did you plan on telling us?” He rasped, throat even more irritated from crying. Lizardspots shifted a bit, looking uncomfortable.

“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “Grayfeather wanted to tell you three as soon as you were old enough to understand, but I was still deputy at the time, and I worried about what might happen if the truth came out. It put Rosestar in a bad position, and I couldn’t afford to cause that much upset in the clan.” Another sigh. “Shadowclan wasn’t on good terms with Riverclan when you were born. That winter had been terrible, and Riverclan was desperate. They were risking all-out war with Thunderclan by trespassing, so they turned to hunting on our territory. Things had calmed down a bit by the time Greenleaf came and the three of you were born, but it was still fresh enough to be a problem. In addition to the standard Shadowclan ban on interclan relationships.” Here, Lizardspots just looked sheepish, and Piketail couldn’t help but let out a snort. Marshfoot gave him an almost amused glance.

“Well, we all know that Riverclan doesn’t give much thought to borders,” she drawled, and now Piketail could only give her his own sheepish shrug. She looked at him curiously then, a smile drawing at the corner of her mouth. “I always thought there was something familiar about you. You look like dad.” Piketail started at that. Everyone always just told him he looked like Grayfeather, even though the only real thing they had in common was coloring.

“And you look like ma,” he replied, unthinkingly, and Marshfoot’s expression shuttered for a moment before her smile returned, fainter than before.

“Well, thank goodness. I always knew I was too pretty to take after dad.” Lizardspots indignant hey! broke the last of the tension, and Piketail felt his shoulders relax a bit. His father huffed before softening.

“Well, now you all know. Again, I’m sorry about this whole mess. I know it’s not much consolation, but your mother and I… we tried to do our best by you all. When we saw that the three of you had become friends, especially after Frog and Pike’s accidents, we thought that might be enough.” Piketail didn’t have it in him to hate his parents for the choices they made, or even really be truly mad at them. Yes, there was a little resentment for what might have been, but right now, he was too happy to just have his father and brother and sister to care. Shuffling in his spot, he gave his father an understanding nod, glad to see that Lizardspots seemed relieved. Marshfoot and Frogthroat also mumbled reassurances, the truth too fresh to get further into it.

“I also have something else I want to tell you.” Piketail said. “After this whole… situation with Stonestar is resolved, I’m going to ask Oakstar and Rosestar if I can join Shadowclan.” A terrible thought that somehow hadn’t occurred to him suddenly popped into his head. Oh, stars, wait… “Uh, I mean, that is, if you guys, uh, wouldn’t mind-“ Frogthroat managed to reach over Brooksong without disturbing his children to cuff Piketail around his ear.

“Don’t even finish the thought,” he warned. “Of course we want you here.” Lizardspots and Marshfoot were quick to voice their agreement.

“I’m old, I want to spend what time I have left with all of my children.”

“Dad, don’t talk like that. And you don’t talk like that either, fish face, we’d be more than happy to have you here. I can vouch for you to Rosestar.” Piketail, relieved, gave them his gratitude.

“That would be wonderful. I, well, I told Briarmask about it, and she said she would speak to Rosestar as well.” Lizardspots gave him an unimpressed look.

“Oh, so that’s how Rosestar found out, huh? He jumped me when I was hunting a couple days ago and confronted me about the whole situation. He refused to tell me how he found out, just said he’d heard a rumor a while ago and only just had the chance to yell at me about it.” The old tom rolled his eyes, and Piketail couldn’t help but chuckle at his residual annoyance. Their time together was cut short, however, when Coppertail suddenly called from outside.

“Piketail? We’re leaving.” The Riverclanner couldn’t help but feel disappointed, not wanting to leave so soon after being reunited with his family. While they seemed similarly put out, Marshfoot rose to her feet, waving them out of the den.

“Don’t worry about it,” she murmured after they had bid their goodbyes to Frogthroat, Brooksong, and Lizardspots, who had elected to stay behind. “Soon enough, we’ll have all the time in the world together.” And that was a comforting thought. They met up with the rest of their assembled clanmates, once more gathered in the camp clearing. Piketail obediently took his spot next to Oakstar, feeling emotionally wrung out. What a day, and it’s not even noon.

“We have our plan.” Shalestar announced, almost vibrating with energy. How she would survive the wait until that plan was enacted was anyone's guess. “We will inform our respective warriors of their parts upon our returns home today. We will all meet at Fourtrees on the night of the Gathering ready to end this once and for all.” Faces set in determination, the Windclan and Riverclan cats bid their goodbyes before heading out. Piketail managed to sneak over to Snowdrift and give him a supportive nudge.

“I’m sure your family is fine,” he murmured. “I’ve heard your brother is quite the fighter, and my mother told me stories of your mother from back in the day. She’s no joke either. They’ll be safe until they can come home.” Snowdrift nodded, his pinched expression lessening a bit.

“Stars light your path. May the ancestor’s keep you safe until we meet again.” Piketail appreciated the blessing- he needed all the help he could get. Slipping out of the camp, Piketail trotted alongside his leader and deputy, head spinning with the revelations of the day. He was so distracted, in fact, that they were almost back to the Riverclan camp when he suddenly remembered, oh right, Littlepaw’s assessments.

“Oakstar, I have a request,” he said quietly, having to fully turn his face to see the old tom. Oakstar gave an inquiring hum. “Littlepaw has more than exceeded my expectations for training. I believe he’s ready to take his assessments.”

“Hmmm,” Oakstar replied, more thoughtful now. “You are quite right- I will speak to Squirrelnose about Goldenpaw, and if she would be ready for her own assessments soon. Also, we will need to wait until the situation with Thunderclan is resolved before they could be made warriors- they have to visit the Moonstone, after all.” And Piketail had completely forgotten about that. While all warrior apprentices visited the Moonstone to receive their dream from the ancestors, there was no set requirement in the Code for when they went, just that they had to before becoming warriors. He wasn’t really sure how other clans handled it- if he remembered correctly, Marshfoot and Frogthroat had been pretty young when they told him about their trips- but Riverclan apprentices went around the same time they took their assessments. The idea was not to burden an apprentice with what their future might hold, and instead let them train without any preconceived notions. The argument for taking a young apprentice was to give them time to prepare for whatever may be in store for them. On his own part, Piketail couldn’t help but wonder if he would’ve received some warning about the dogs had he gone to the Moonstone young. As it stood, his dream had been rather disconcerting. He had been caught in a current, barely able to keep his head above the water. He had thrashed and flailed for what felt like an eternity, never able to escape its grip, until he had opened his mouth and cried out for help. At that very moment, the rush of water had eased, and he found himself simply floating down the gentle river, the Greenleaf sun warm on his face. Reedpelt had told him the meaning was rather obvious- Don’t always try to handle things on your own. You must ask others for help. But he had still been anxious and withdrawn, and had ignored that advice, still believing he was better off alone. And now… “Still, Littlepaw can at least complete his assessments if he’s ready. No need to make the boy wait. What did you have in mind?” Shaking himself back into reality, Piketail spent the rest of the walk home discussing with Oakstar and Coppertail what Littlepaw’s assessment should be.

When they arrived at the camp, Stonestar immediately called a clan meeting. He informed the clan of all that had transpired, then launched into the battle plan for the night of the Gathering, four days hence. Piketail, Splashpaw, Oakstar, and Coppertail needed to make it to the Thunderclan camp to bring justice to Stonestar. Oakstar had volunteered more Riverclan warriors for the battle party, as they only had the two witnesses compared to the three or more from the other clans. As such, Herontail, Dawnface, Darkwater, Hollyclaw, Lavenderfur, Larkwing, and Squirrelnose, alongside Littlepaw, Ripplepaw, and possibly Goldenpaw, would be joining them. The warriors that remained would be divided between the camp and Sunning Rocks in case a runner came for reinforcements. As there were no kits and really little chance of the camp being targeted, they could leave it so lightly guarded. Oakstar ended with a rousing cry for justice, for Reedpelt’s soul to finally be put to rest, met with fierce cries from the warriors now all filled with righteous fury. With renewed vigor, patrols went out, seeking to hunt as much as possible so that all the fighters would have the energy for what awaited them. After cats began to disperse, Littlepaw and Ripplepaw found Piketail in the crowd, looking respectively determined and nervous.

“Ripplepaw wants to get in some extra battle training,” Littlepaw declared, giving his friend a supportive bump with his shoulder. “And we’re gonna ask Splashpaw if Goldenpaw can join. Will you help us?” Piketail was already nodding before his apprentice had finished speaking, glancing around as a thought struck him.

“Of course. Littlepaw, you ask about Goldenpaw, and Ripplepaw, get Larkwing. I’ll find Squirrelnose. We should all work on battle training together.” While Piketail was always willing to help the apprentices on his own, their own mentors would know best about what they needed to focus on. The three split off from each other, agreeing to meet back up as soon as possible, and Piketail was relieved to find that Squirrelnose was still in camp, speaking quietly to Coppertail near the entrance. Both ginger toms looked up at his approach, and Piketail gave Coppertail a respectful nod before voicing his request to Squirrelnose.

“The apprentices want to get some extra work in on battle training, and Littlepaw is going to see if Goldenpaw is allowed to practice. Will you join us?” The other tom readily agreed, bidding goodbye to his uncle and following Piketail back to where he had agreed to meet the apprentices. As they were waiting, Piketail gathered his courage.

“I want to tell you something,” he said quietly, making sure none of their clanmates were close enough to hear. Squirrelnose shot him a curious look. “Right before she died, my mother told me that my father is actually a Shadowclan warrior, and that I have siblings there. After this is all over, and Littlepaw is a warrior, I’m asking Oakstar if I can join Shadowclan.” Squirrelnose looked flabbergasted, but recovered quickly, staring at Piketail with wide eyes.

“…It’s those two warriors you hang out with, right? The spotted ones?” Now surprised himself, Piketail nodded. “I always thought you looked like you belonged with them. Guess I was right, just not how I thought. Have you told Littlepaw yet?” Piketail looked down at his feet.

“No,” he murmured. “With everything going on, I don’t want to burden him with this. Especially since Oakstar could always say no.” Squirrelnose hummed.

“I think you should tell him. Sooner rather than later- he deserves to know. He really cares about you, you know.” There was no time for Piketail to reply, as at that moment the Littlepaw, Ripplepaw, and an enthusiastic Goldenpaw ran up, followed more placidly by Larkwing. As they set out, Piketail admitted to himself that Squirrelnose was right. He needed to tell Littlepaw, sooner than later.

Just not right now.

________________________________________________________________

The apprentices trained hard over the next three days, perfecting their techniques and trying not to show that they were scared at the thought of a real battle. They were lucky, really. The past year had been downright peaceful in the territories, as the prey was running well and no clan was struggling more than usual. Even Thunderclan was quiet, having previously taken back and then once again lost the struggle for Sunning Rocks a couple summers ago. It would be a bit longer before they made another bid for it. And, with that being the main source of conflict for a Riverclan warrior, seeing as their other borders were the Horse Place and the Gorge, none of the apprentices had seen a real battle yet. Even the odd fox or badger they had helped chase off hadn’t put up a fight, and so they were understandably a little afraid. But after training for the past few days, Piketail was confident they would be more than fine. Even Goldenpaw had quickly picked back up her previous skill, to the point that Oakstar had told Squirrelnose she could be made a warrior alongside Littlepaw, after the conflict was over. Littlepaw had morbidly wondered aloud if it wouldn’t be better to make them warriors before, in case, stars forbid, the worst happened. Before Piketail could rebuke him Goldenpaw had scoffed, saying she hadn’t almost died of Greencough just to be taken out by some squirrel chaser. It’ll make us fight harder for our names, she declared, and Littlepaw had been happy to agree. Now, Piketail was once again in the training field, but this time, it wasn’t for practice.

It was time for Littlepaw and Goldenpaw’s assessments.

That morning they had done their hunting portions, performing admirably. Each had been assigned a certain amount of land and river prey, being given the whole territory to hunt because of the season. Littlepaw had caught more land prey than required, earning him extra credit, and Goldenpaw had somehow fished out the biggest carp any of them had seen since the river froze, a prize indeed. Now, they had their spars against the newest warriors before their individual portions.

Littlepaw was squared up against Darkwater, the gray molly eagerly bouncing on her toes. Her sister, Dappleleaf, stood more placidly before Goldenpaw. The sisters had been made warriors just at the end of the summer, right before Falconstar and Poppypaw had been killed. If the apprentices could hold their own against their opponents for a decent amount of time, or even pin them, they passed. The “decent amount of time” was entirely at the discretion of Oakstar, who was sitting neatly on a rock that had been cleared of snow. The small field, usually covered by short, springy grass that made an excellent space for sparring, was now covered in a few inches of powdery snow. It added a layer of difficulty to the spar, which made it all the more impressive the longer the apprentices lasted. Coppertail, Piketail, and Squirrelnose sat near Oakstar, the two mentors eagerly waiting for the spars to begin. It wasn’t just the apprentices that had something to prove here, after all. Their mentorship skills would show in the ability of the young cats being put to the test.

“Begin!” Oakstar abruptly commanded, startling the opponents into action. Darkwater immediately threw herself forward, barreling into Littlepaw with gusto. Piketail briefly noted that Dappleleaf had instead elected to antagonize Goldenpaw into attacking before he focused on his own apprentice. Outwardly, he was calm, but inwardly, his heart was racing.

Thankfully, Littlepaw had listened to his teachings well, rolling with the tackle and managing to come out on top. He tried to use his superior strength to pin Darkwater in place, but she slipped out of his grasp and came at him once more. Littlepaw had developed a more defensive fighting technique, perhaps influenced by Piketail’s own style. Piketail’s was out of necessity, needing to cover for his blind side, but Littlepaw was more focused on waiting for the perfect moment to strike as opposed to wearing down his opponent with an aggressive offense, which was more Goldenpaw’s style. Instead, the yellow tom watched carefully as he dodged and bobbed, reaching out for an experimental strike here and there. Finally, quick as a snake, he lashed out, tripping Darkwater as she tried to rush him once more. From there he managed to wrestle her into a pin, paw placed firmly on her throat. Littlepaw seemed almost surprised to see that he had won.

“Stop!” Oakstar cried out, and Goldenpaw and Dappleleaf froze in place. Goldenpaw was half on Dappleleaf’s back, teeth in her scruff and forelegs wrapped around her neck, about to pull the mottled gray molly down. A few more moments, and she likely would have won her spar as well. “Excellent work, the both of you. Congratulations on your win, Littlepaw.” The tom looked about to burst with pride. “And well done to you as well, Goldenpaw. I have no doubt you were about to succeed as well.” The molly accepted the praise with a grateful nod. “Now, time for your final assessments. Littlepaw, you will be staying here with Piketail and Coppertail. Goldenpaw, you will be returning to camp with myself, Dappleleaf, and Darkwater.” Goldenpaw really has grown up a bit, Piketail mused to himself as he trotted over to congratulate his apprentice. Thank the ancestors.

“I can’t believe I won!” Littlepaw crowed, seemingly more full of energy than he had been at the beginning of his fight. Piketail let out a rusty purr in response.

“I can. You’ve really been working hard.” He praised. Littlepaw gave him an exuberant headbutt before looking at him expectantly.

“My personal assessment has to do with sneaking, right? What’s Goldenpaw’s?” Piketail sighed before looking over at Coppertail in a conspiratorial way. The deputy was bidding goodbye to Oakstar, which meant they had a moment before he came over.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…” the gray warrior whispered, leaning in close to Littlepaw, whose eyes sparkled with delight. “Goldenpaw has to bring Greentail and Cherryleaf to Sunningrocks and back before noon, and without clawing their ears off.” The elders had been positively gleeful when Oakstar had requested their participation, promising to be as ornery and difficult as possible. Goldenpaw struggled much in the same way Piketail had, just with a temper instead of shutting down. Littlepaw burst into laughter at the news.

“Stars above,” he gasped, “I don’t know who I feel more poorly for. I just hope they don’t all kill each other.” Piketail couldn’t help but laugh himself, the excitement of the day killing any nerves he might have for tomorrow night. Coppertail came over at that moment, looking bemused at their obvious mirth but deciding not to question it.

“Littlepaw,” he said seriously, and the apprentice sobered, looking solemnly at the deputy. “Your task today is twofold. You will track Piketail and myself across the territory without being seen. We are heading to a destination we picked out beforehand. Once there, we will have a secret discussion. You are to follow us and listen in on our conversation without being seen. If we catch you, or you are unable to tell us what we spoke of, you fail. Do you understand?” Littlepaw nodded, expression set in a determined frown. It was a tall order- the white expanse of the grassland had little by way of cover, meaning Littlepaw would have to trail them at a distance to avoid being seen. They were headed for the woods, however, which would give Littlepaw the cover he needed to draw close enough to listen to their conversation, provided he could catch up to them in enough time. But Piketail was confident that Littlepaw would rise to the challenge. He gave Littlepaw his approximation of a wink before trotting off after Coppertail, who took a winding trail towards the woods. They spoke little on the way, only whispering to each other if they heard or saw anything suspicious. It never turned out to be Littlepaw, however, which Piketail was relieved about. He had been worried that perhaps his own skewed senses had been an easy obstacle to overcome for Littlepaw, but it seemed his apprentice was as competent as he had hoped.

Eventually they arrived in the woods, the sun climbing higher in the sky as they went, now nearly noon. They came to a stop in a small clearing and listened for a moment, scenting the air and waiting to see if there was any sign of Littlepaw. When they were sure there was nothing, Coppertail turned to Piketail, trying to smother a smile.

“So,” he drawled, sitting back on his hip, “what do you think would be a good name for Littlepaw?” Piketail let out a thoughtful hum as he too took a comfortable seat.

“I don’t rightfully know. Maybe Littletail? It is a good suffix, after all.” He replied, lip twitching. Coppertail nodded thoughtfully.

“Perhaps Littlepetal? He is rather delicate. Or Littlepuff, for that coat of his.” The idea behind the conversation was to try and trip Littlepaw up, be so distracted by indignation or worry that he made a mistake. The toms threw out more names, each more ridiculous than the last, before settling on Littledandelion, nontraditional and a bit of a mouthful, of course, but in homage to the name given to him by his dearest friend.

“Now that that’s settled, let’s head back and tell Oakstar what we came up with. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Piketail agreed amiably, setting off with Coppertail back towards camp. They made it the tree line before Coppertail halted, calling out to the trees around them. “Alright, Littlepaw, if you’re here, come on out!” Almost immediately there was a rustle in the undergrowth near them, and the two toms turned to see a slightly annoyed Littlepaw standing in front of them.

“Alright, Littletail wasn’t bad, but Littlepuff? Littleguppy? Littledandelion? Seriously?” Catching himself, he shot a glance at Coppertail. “Er, I mean- no disrespect, sir.” Coppertail laughed, shaking his head with a snort.

“No worries, lad. I’d say you passed. Piketail?” The gray warrior readily agreed, laughing as Littlepaw tackled him in excitement, tussling him in the snow like a pair of kits. He did it! Separating, Piketail shook the snow from his coat, tossing his head towards the camp.

“Come on,” he mewed, tail curled in delight, “let’s go tell everyone the good news.”

They arrived back at camp to find a steaming Goldenpaw and a pair of delighted elders, thankfully both in one piece. The golden molly had also been successful in her task, and it was announced to the clan that, pending tomorrow’s success, they would have two new warriors once their journey to the Moonstone was complete. The clan had celebrated with the prey the apprentices had caught, Dawnface flitting between the two of them in her delight. Piketail found himself seated next to Splashpaw in front of the medicine den, fondly watching his apprentice be celebrated by their clanmates.

He had just quietly spoken to Splashpaw about his joining Shadowclan, and the silver tabby tom was now looking thoughtfully at his feet, churning over what he had learned.

“If this is what will bring you peace, then of course I’m for it.” He mewed softly, giving Piketail an affectionate flick of his tail. “I’ll miss you, of course, but I’ll still be visiting Fernfire for a while yet, and I’m a medicine cat, so I can abuse my privileges to see you whenever I want.” Splashpaw cast a look at where Littlepaw was chattering excitedly with Goldenpaw, the siblings for once getting along for more than a minute at a time. “Have you told Littlepaw?”

“No, I wanted to wait until he passed his assessments. No need to add any stress. I was going to ask him to take a walk when the celebration was over.” Piketail wasn’t looking forward to it, but it was time to pull the thorn out of the paw. Littlepaw needed to know, and Piketail wanted to tell him before tomorrow night.

Just in case.

“I won’t be leaving right away, anyway. I want to be here for the ceremonies, of course. And I was going to ask Oakstar if I could escort the three of you to the Moonstone, seeing as you’re all still technically apprentices.” Splashpaw snorted, but it lacked his usual humor. Piketail gave him a concerned look, surprised to see that Splashpaw looked… strangely bitter.

“I don’t know what good it’ll do to bring them there,” the little tabby admitted quietly. “I haven’t once had a dream from Starclan. Medicine cat apprentices don’t dream until we receive our names. What good will I be, interpreting dreams when I’ve never had one myself?” Piketail was silent for a moment, floored. What could he say to that?

“I…” He trailed off, before setting his jaw. “I can’t really understand the position you’re in, Splashpaw, but I have confidence in you and your abilities. Reedpelt always said you were a model medicine cat apprentice, so if you don’t trust your own judgement, trust hers. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do. And who knows, with Reedpelt’s spirit free, I have no doubt she’ll find some way to bend the rules and help you out.” Splashpaw quirked a smile at that, unable to argue with Piketail’s logic. Reedpelt had never let something like impossibility stand in her way before. If there was a way for her to help Splashpaw from Starclan, she would do it.

They just needed to help her get there, first. Hopefully, by tomorrow night, she would be safely with the ancestors, alongside Falconstar, Poppypaw, and Kestrelcall.

“Looks like everything is winding down,” Splashpaw commented. “Now’s your chance.” Piketail gave the young tom a nudge, trying to offer him a bit of comfort, before taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Piketail took Littlepaw to the kit stream, the shallow creek where all Riverclan kits first started learning how to swim. It was a familiar place, comforting in its memories, and also unlikely to have anyone else around. There, he sat Littlepaw down and spoke to him of his mother, the truth she had revealed as she lay dying, his meeting with his father, brother, and sister in Shadowclan, and his desire to join them there.

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” Piketail admitted, “but I don’t want to be dishonest with you. You’re already a warrior in my eyes, and as such you deserve my respect and honesty as an equal. I’m not happy here in Riverclan, not truly. Your being made my apprentice has been the only source of joy in my life since Swanpaw died. But now that’s coming to an end, and I might have the opportunity to seek out my peace with the family I never thought I’d have.” Littlepaw was quiet, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Piketail shifted nervously. “I’m sorry, Littlepaw.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” the golden tom mewed, eyes now tinged with sorrow. “I’m sorry you can’t find your peace here, but I get it. If my mom was dying and told me that my dad was actually alive in another clan, I’d want to see him too. And, well, I’d want to be with him if I was unhappy here. So, yeah, I’m not happy about it, but I get it.” Piketail purred, wrapping a paw around Littlepaw’s shoulders and drawing him into a hug.

“No matter what happens,” he mewed quietly, “I’ll always be your mentor. I don’t care what’s happening, even if Shadowclan and Riverclan are sworn enemies, I’ll never turn my back on you, alright?” Littlepaw let out a tremulous purr.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. And don’t worry, even being across the territories won’t stop me from bugging you.” The gray warrior laughed, now giving his apprentice an affectionate shove.

“Well, now I hope Oakstar agrees, or all of this angst will have been for nothing. Come on, let’s see if we can catch anything on the way home. The holes we made in the ice earlier should still be there- I’m getting sick of land prey.” The two toms made their way towards Sunning Rocks, where Littlepaw had completed his hunting assessment earlier. Oakstar had forbidden anyone from crossing to the actual rocks, given the tension with Thunderclan, but the river was shallower there and the ice was thinner, making it easier to break up. Sure enough, the ice holes were still there, and the toms were successful in scooping out a few small fish. They were just about to call it a day when distant yowling made their spines stiffen. It was coming from Thunderclan territory, drawing closer by the second.

“Hide!” Piketail hissed, shoving Littlepaw into the dry reeds near the riverbank. They ducked into cover, peering through the yellowed stalks as they waited to see what was going on. A minute or so later, a black tom broke the cover of the Thunderclan forest, running full tilt towards the river. He took a flying leap towards the first steppingstone, sliding halfway off, his front feet plunging through the thin ice around the stone and into the river. The tom let out a surprised yowl, ripping them back out of the water and scrambling for a better hold. A group of cats emerged from the tree line, led by an enraged Stonestar. Piketail’s stomach turned to ice.

“Traitor!” Stonestar howled. “Look how he flees to our enemies!” The three warriors with him hissed, throwing themselves after the black tom at their leader’s command. Desperate now, the tom clumsily leapt from stone to stone, feet occasionally slipping or going through the ice. One warrior made to follow him, the other two reluctantly hanging back. The black tom was almost to the riverbank when Piketail decided enough was enough. He leapt out of the reeds with a ferocious hiss, Littlepaw quickly following after him. He startled both Thunderclan warriors, the black tom tumbling off the final stone to land at Piketail’s feet, the other fumbling to a halt, only partially across the river.

“What is the meaning of this!” Piketail snarled, glare whipping to Stonestar and then the tom at his feet. “How dare you trespass on Riverclan land!”

“I claim sanctuary,” the black tom rasped, and Piketail could see now that he had been beaten. Badly. “My name is Nightrock, and I am friend to both Riverclan and Thunderclan, even though they don’t believe it. Please, sanctuary.” Piketail paused, recognizing both the toms name and his request. Sanctuary was a serious business, only accepted in the direst of circumstances, usually when a cat’s life was in danger. Typically, that meant something like being caught in a storm, or chased by another predator, but it also covered political asylum, which Piketail felt definitely applied to this situation. Seems like Stonestar found out Nightrock told us what was going on.

“Riverclan accepts your petition. From now until revoked by Oakstar, you are under our protection.” Piketail mewed quickly, and Littlepaw moved to help the tom up. The gray warrior then fixed his glare on the tom that was part way across the river, a huge gray tabby with white patches. “If anyone comes after this warrior, we will defend him as if he were our own. Don’t start a fight you can’t win.” He warned, and yes, this was probably only reinforcing Stonestar’s propaganda, but Piketail had only his apprentice and a wounded tom against four fresh Thunderclanners. When it came down to it, he really only could threaten his way out of this one. Thankfully the gray and white tabby fell back with a hiss. Stonestar drew himself up with a snarl.

“This isn’t over, code breaker!” The leader swore, puffed up dramatically in front of his warriors. “Thunderclan will never be cowed by the likes of you!”

“Quite the act, you cold hearted rogue,” Piketail sneered, ushering Nightrock and Littlepaw into the reeds with a wave of his tale. “You should join our actors in their next performance, you’d make the perfect villain. How about the Gathering tomorrow night?” He couldn’t help but taunt the Thunderclan leader, and that must be the Shadowclan in him. Stonestar responded with a wordless hiss, disappearing into the trees with his warriors. Piketail slipped into the reeds but stayed crouched, watching for a few moments to make sure they weren’t coming back. Satisfied they were gone for good, he turned to his companions. Nightrock was looking rough, breathing hard and leaning most of his weight against Littlepaw’s shoulder.

“I cannot thank you enough,” the black tom gasped. “He caught me trying to give information to Windclan, said I was a traitor-“

“Save your strength,” Littlepaw urged, giving Piketail a worried look as his golden fur became stained with the tom’s blood. “We need to get you to the medicine den, quickly.” Piketail came around to support Nightrock’s other side, helping him along as fast as they could.

If Stonestar was desperate enough to attack his own warriors, what was he willing to do to his enemies? Ancestor’s protect us, Piketail desperately prayed.

This was the beginning of the end.

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