Saltclan

Frostcurl and Kelpjay go fishing together, Kelpjay is impressed by the amount of prey he caught. Frostcurl enjoys chatting with kelpjay about crafting and clan folklore.

Mallowstripe shows Briarpaw how to make oil from fish. It’s very thin and cloying, Briarpaw has to wash her paws several times afterwards. The entire camp smells delicious.

Shadowdive employs Sunfrost’s help on an excursion for the kits. They take Jaggedkit and Moonkit— respectively— out for a swim in the gentle waves. Morningkit is still not ready to get in the water and watches from shore.

Thistle takes the apprentices and young warriors to the site of the fire and shows them how to spot hollow ground under the ash. The group learns how the roots of tress and grass hold the dirt together and without it the land is unstable but not inaccessible.

Moonkit practices singing a song but mixes up the words, making her audience uncomfortable.

Dropletshine was seen hanging around the HoneyClan border, waiting for a certain cat.

Coralheart has started seeking advice from other clan mediators— with little success.

Snowspeckle spots a badger making a set on Duskclan’s lands and waits for a patrol to alert them, but none pass by and she must return home.

Nightleap has been very critical of Honeyclan lately and warns the clan against becoming too close with them.

Cherrytail and Sunfrost take the kits out to a grassy field to chase fire flies.

The darkness breathed with her.

Or maybe she breathed with it.

Leopardpaw couldn’t tell anymore.

⸻

“You feel it too, don’t you? How fragile they are.”

The voice roused her again.

“You were built for distance. For hunger. For war.”

You’re so familiar.

“They can’t keep up with you.”

She tried to open her mouth, but—

“They’re made of flesh and bone.”

Nothing came out.

“You were made to outlast.”

Darkness folded over her again.

⸻

“Easy now. Don’t fight it.”

The voice was closer this time.

“You’re burning yourself up trying to stand.”

Her limbs twitched weakly against the floor.

“Rest. I’ll keep watch.”

Am I dead?

A low sound. Almost amused.

“You were always going to find your way here.”

Is this StarClan?

No answer.

Only breathing.

⸻

She could lift her head briefly.

“The others pretend not to notice what you are.”

What am I?

“I knew what you’d become the moment I saw you.”

Something in her chest twisted.

⸻

“You pace when you can’t sleep.”

How do you know that?

⸻

“Poor thing. You pushed yourself too hard again.”

Her head wouldn’t lift. Her eyes blinked lazily against the gloom.

“Do you hear the water?”

I can’t. I know you know I can’t.

A pause.

“No. You can’t.”

The words settled heavily against her ribs.

⸻

Mom?

Silence.

Then—

“I could pick you out from a hundred cats.”

Her breath caught painfully.

Mom!

But the darkness only breathed back at her.

⸻

“It’s sad how hard you try.”

Her whiskers twitched weakly.

She could roll to her stomach now.

“I thought this would be effortless for you.”

Am I dying?

“You think those clans made you?”

She didn’t bother trying to sit up.

“You’ll never be soft enough for cats like them.”

Come closer and say that.

Pawsteps somewhere to her left.

“I’ll miss you. After all of this.”

⸻

“Don’t worry.”

The voice had gone quiet now. Certain.

“I know exactly what you are.”

How?

“You felt it long before you met me.”

Felt what?

“That something was wrong.”

Her claws scraped uselessly against the floor.

“That you were different.”

⸻

“I should kill you, you know?”

She growled, low in her throat.

“You forest cats-“

Warriors.

“Whatever you call yourselves, you owe me a life.”

She stayed silent, in her mind and her throat.

A paw placed itself on the back of her neck.

“One of yours took two of mine.”

The dark felt heavy, she could feel a hint of claws.

Despite herself, she trembled.

“Of course those cats mean little to me.”

The paw lifted.

She let out a shaky breath.

“I wonder…”

It didn’t finish that thought.

⸻

“You know why they stare.”

They don’t.

“You know why they hesitate around you.”

They don’t!

She shifted to her feet.

“You shrink yourself to make them comfortable.”

She wrenched her head toward the voice.

“I would never.”

Her paws gave out under her.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

⸻

“You’re thinking clearly now. Good.”

Am I?

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

She huffed weakly, whiskers twitching.

“Tell me you’ve ever truly felt like one of them.”

Silence stretched.

Long enough to hurt.

She slipped back into darkness.

⸻

When she woke again, she could finally push off her stomach.

Barely.

“You think rage makes you monstrous?”

Her paws trembled beneath her weight.

“It makes you whole.”

The words hit harder now that her mind was clear enough to understand them.

“Anything else would be beneath you.”

Her legs gave out beneath her.

⸻

This time she woke before the voice spoke.

The room was quieter now.

The dark smaller somehow.

“Sooner or later, you’ll get tired of pretending.”

She forced herself upward.

“The clans only love what they understand.”

You know nothing about my clan.

“And they do not understand you.”

Her paws buckled. Her chin struck the floor hard enough to ache.

“They don’t want to.”

She hissed through her teeth.

A soft sound answered her.

Almost fond.

“When they finally fear you, remember who warned you first.”

Then silence.

And for the first time since the false sun went out—

the voice did not come back.

By dawn, the last patrols finally returned.

One by one they stumbled through the camp entrance— soot-stained, smoke clinging stubbornly to their pelts. Their heads hung low with exhaustion and shame.

And every patrol came back empty-pawed.

Pantherpaw sat rigid near the center of camp as Wolfstar and Shadowdive emerged from the tunnel leading toward the eastern forest. They’d been gone the longest.

Wolfstar’s paws dragged slightly with every step. Ash dulled her pale fur, and Shadowdive’s chest rose and fell heavily beneath soot-blackened whiskers.

No one followed behind them.

Leopardpaw was still missing.

At the sight of them, Nighthowl broke.

A raw cry tore from her throat as she staggered forward.

“I’m sorry, Nighthowl,” Wolfstar said quietly, eyes glassy with failure. “There’s still no trace of her.”

Shadowdive stepped close to Pantherpaw instead, lowering his head near the apprentice’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, paw,” He murmured roughly. “I tried.”

Pantherpaw didn’t answer.

His gaze remained fixed on the distant ocean beyond camp, where pale dawn light shimmered weakly across the waves.

“Pantherpaw?”

Dropletshine’s voice came carefully beside him. “You should try to sleep.”

He finally looked at her.

She hesitated beneath the weight of his stare, then swallowed hard and continued gently. “Let’s get your mother to her nest, she needs to rest.”

He let her guide him silently.

Nighthowl stumbled against his side the entire way, sobbing openly into his shoulder fur. He fought back a a traitorous shudder.

Dropletshine had stayed behind during the searches, watching over the kits and the injured while the others combed the burned forest.

It was the first time they’d spoken since his outburst at the graveyard.

The awkwardness lingered between them like fog.

It took a long while for Nighthowl to settle.

Even curled into her nest she continued rambling tearfully against Pantherpaw’s neck—half memories, half prayers, stories about Leopardpaw as a kit tumbling through tidepools and half muttered songs.

Several cats stopped by quietly.

Briefly.

Thistle left behind a cup of calming tea from lynxdawn.

Eventually the tea softened the sharpest edges of her grief enough for exhaustion to drag her under.

Pantherpaw remained awake beside her.

Carefully, he rasped his tongue through her scruffy fur.

The strange buzzing beneath his skin eased slightly with the repetitive motion.

Not enough.

So he hummed.

Softly at first.

Then louder.

Old nursery songs. Tide songs. Half-forgotten melodies from kithood.

The buzzing quieted further beneath the vibrations in his chest.

“You’re doing good with her.”

Pantherpaw’s fur twitched immediately.

Wolfstar stood at the den entrance.

She looked exhausted.

Her eyes were rimmed red, fur still stained with soot.

Still, she offered him a faint, tired smile.

“You’d make a good cleric,” She murmured. “Or nurse.”

Pantherpaw snorted softly and looked away.

Wolfstar’s smile faltered immediately.

“Sorry,” She said quietly. “I wasn’t trying to assign you a new role. I just…” Her gaze drifted briefly toward the sleeping Nighthowl. “I wanted to check on you both.”

Pantherpaw hesitated.

Then muttered. “You should leave before she wakes up.”

Wolfstar flinched.

The reaction was enough that guilt twisted sharply in his stomach.

“You know how she feels about you.” He added more quietly.

Wolfstar lowered her gaze.

“I know,” She admitted after a moment. “I never meant to make it worse.”

Her voice sounded smaller than usual.

“But this is still my clan,” She continued softly. “I care about all of you.”

Pantherpaw swallowed hard.

I’ve done enough damage already, he thought.

So he said nothing.

After a long silence, Wolfstar dipped her head slightly.

“If either of you need anything,” she said, “send for me.”

Then she left.

Her pawsteps faded slowly into the waking camp beyond.

The moment she disappeared, the buzzing returned full force beneath Pantherpaw’s skin.

His muscles twitched sharply.

Too tight.

Too loud.

Carefully disentangling himself from Nighthowl, he slipped from the den.

The camp felt wrong in morning light.

Too quiet for how many cats were out.

A few glanced toward him as he crossed camp, so Pantherpaw kept moving without stopping at the prey pile.

He headed instead toward the apprentice den.

Maybe there’d be something inside to chew on. A branch. Driftwood. Anything.

But the moment he entered, the scent hit him.

Leopardpaw.

Fresh enough to hurt.

Pantherpaw froze beside the empty nest.

Then suddenly lunged forward.

His teeth buried into his own moss bedding viciously.

He tore into it hard enough to scatter shredded moss across the den floor. Claws hooked into the nest while his jaws worked furiously, ripping and shredding until bits of dried feathers clung to his whiskers.

It helped.

Barely.

By the time he stopped, his breathing had steadied slightly.

The buzzing dulled into something manageable again.

Panting softly, Pantherpaw stared down at the ruined remains of his nest.

Then his gaze drifted sideways.

To Leopardpaw’s untouched bedding beside it.

Still perfectly shaped.

Still waiting.

His chest tightened painfully.

Slowly, Pantherpaw circled once before laying down atop the shredded remains of his own nest.

And beside him, Leopardpaw’s stayed empty.

One moment there was darkness.

Then—

Light.

A harsh white glow burned above her, too bright and cold to be the sun.

Leopardpaw squeezed her eyes shut with a rasping hiss.

When she opened them again, the light was still there.

It hummed.

Or perhaps her ears were ringing.

The den was wrong.

Its walls were smooth.

Its corners too sharp.

Strange things stood around her, stacked higher than any cat could climb, their scents dry and stale until they clogged her nose.

Dust.

Old wood.

Twolegs.

Her stomach twisted so violently she folded in on herself.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

She staggered upright anyway.

One paw.

Then another.

The ground shifted beneath her.

Or perhaps she did.

There’s…

The memory surfaced through the haze.

…always…

Wolfstar’s voice.

Soft.

Steady.

…an exit.

Leopardpaw lurched toward the nearest towering shape and shoved.

Nothing.

Again.

A loud crack echoed through the den.

Something toppled.

She flinched, expecting the voice.

Nothing answered.

Her breathing came harder.

Another shove.

Something narrow and wooden wobbled.

She threw herself against it.

The crash rang through the den.

Then—

Warmth.

Real warmth.

A line of sunlight spilled across the floor.

She stared.

The light was moving.

No.

She was.

She crawled toward it.

Fresh air struck her face.

She collapsed through the opening into dry dirt.

Heat soaked into her aching limbs.

She lay there, panting, unable to tell whether she’d escaped or only dreamed she had.

The world bent strangely around her.

The sky rippled.

The grass breathed.

She blinked hard.

It stayed still.

Barely.

Her nose lifted.

Carrion.

Twolegs.

Cats.

Smoke.

Salt.

Home.

Not home.

Her thoughts scattered before she could catch them.

A cough tore through her chest.

It felt as though she’d swallowed fire.

Her throat burned.

Every breath scraped.

She tucked her paws beneath herself.

The sun beat mercilessly against her smoke-blackened pelt.

Her tongue felt too large for her mouth.

Dry.

Everything was dry.

Move.

The word barely felt like her own.

Move.

Behind her—

A crack.

A snapping branch.

Or paws.

Or the voice.

She didn’t look.

She ran.

If it could be called running.

The ground lurched beneath her paws.

She stumbled over roots she couldn’t see.

Dry brush clawed at her sides.

The salt scent drifted somewhere ahead.

Or behind.

She couldn’t tell.

She followed it anyway.

Every few strides another coughing fit doubled her over.

When she could breathe again, she kept moving.

Her legs no longer belonged to her.

They simply continued because stopping felt worse.

She called out once.

Only a ragged wheeze escaped.

Again.

A broken cry.

No answer.

Or perhaps there had been.

The wind carried voices.

The voice.

Many voices.

She couldn’t separate them.

Time unraveled.

The sun climbed.

Or perhaps it fell.

Her paws carried her through patches of blackened earth and brittle grass without her noticing.

Then—

Salt.

Real salt.

Hope struck her so suddenly it hurt.

Home.

She tried to call again.

The cry tore itself apart in her throat.

One forepaw buckled.

Then the other.

The world tilted.

Dirt rushed up to meet her.

Darkness caught her before the ground did.

“Where was she?” Lynxdawn meowed.

The medicine den filled with shuffling paws against leather floors.

“Beside the border. I don’t know for how long,” Wolfstar answered, voice tight. “She couldn’t have been there long. We’d have found her days ago.”

The cleric didn’t respond, working in silence as she pressed and prodded over the apprentice.

“How is she?” Wolfstar asked.

Leopardpaw lay sprawled across a nest—one Ottersplash had only just vacated after nearly tripping over himself to give his apprentice room.

“She’s weak.” Lynxdawn finally looked up from her patient. The weight of the den seemed to settle across her shoulders. “I doubt she had any food or water while she was gone. But she has no burns. As long as the smoke damage clears, she should recover within half a moon.”

Thistle stepped forward, setting down a large jar.

“Mullein bulbs. Dried.”

“Good. Fetch me hot water and heather honey.”

The caretaker dipped her head and hurried away.

Wolfstar lingered near the entrance, half watching Lynxdawn work and half keeping the rest of the clan from crowding inside.

“Can I see her?” Nighthowl pleaded, pushing her way forward, her son close to her side.

Wolfstar’s gaze softened as it flicked between her and Pantherpaw.

“Let’s let Lynxdawn finish first.”

Pantherpaw gently steered his mother away from the den, giving his new mentor a firm nod as Thistle brushed past them.

Nighthowl allowed herself to be led away, a shaky breath hitching in her throat as they stepped back into the fading sunlight.

It had been Wolfstar who spotted Leopardpaw.

Pantherpaw had been only a half-step behind her.

They’d been patrolling the ashen remains of the forest, searching for any clue as to where Leopardpaw might have gone. The gray wasteland left behind by the fire—and soaked by the Twolegs’ water monsters—held almost no scent.

As the patrol drifted east, toward the line of Twoleg nests claimed by the Jellicles, Wolfstar had suddenly frozen.

Leopardpaw’s grey coat had nearly blended in with the remains of the forest, it was only the gentle rise and fall of her ribs that gave her away.

“She must’ve hidden somewhere,” Nighthowl murmured. “When it happened.”

Her voice pulled Pantherpaw back to the present.

“But how did she find her way back?”

He didn’t answer.

Nighthowl turned toward him, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“What does Wolfstar think?”

Pantherpaw swallowed a grimace and looked toward the setting sun instead.

“We found a Twoleg nest near the border. Half of it was burned.”

They stopped beside the tide pools.

“The kittypets there said a Twoleg cooking fire started the blaze.” His tail twitched. “One of them saw Leopardpaw run into the flames. She must’ve gotten trapped.”

“Did they see how she got out?”

He shook his head, lips curling up.

“No. They were probably too busy escaping the fire.”

The words came out sharper than he’d intended.

Nighthowl flinched.

Immediately guilt settled in his stomach like a stone.

“So she didn’t start the fire?” She asked quietly, shifting away by little more than a whisker’s length.

The distance felt impossible to cross.

“No.”

The answer came after a pause.

Then, softer:

“Wolfstar said herself that she couldn’t have.”

That finally drew a smile from Nighthowl, though it still looked fragile.

Pantherpaw tried again.

“She also said that if Leopardpaw’s well enough, we can both go to the next Gathering.”

He made an effort to soften his voice.

To sound excited.

Nighthowl brightened immediately.

“Oh! Your first Gathering.” A purr rumbled in her throat. “How exciting. I pray she’s well enough by then.”

Pantherpaw nodded.

The guilt still tugged at him, prickling beneath his pelt and making his shoulders twitch with restless energy.

But some of the tension eased from his chest.

A little.

The sun slipped lower, staining the sea gold and crimson.

Neither of them spoke again.

Together they sat beside the tide pools, waiting as daylight faded into night, while behind them Lynxdawn worked to pull Leopardpaw back from whatever nightmare she’d wandered through.

It was just before dawn when Wolfstar nudged Pantherpaw’s shoulder with a gentle paw.

He jolted awake.

For a heartbeat, his heart pounded before his mind caught up. Camp wasn’t under attack.

Beside him, Briarpaw only shifted in her sleep, snoring softly through the interruption.

Pantherpaw couldn’t help the flicker of envy as he climbed stiffly to his paws.

Wolfstar was already padding toward the entrance.

Without a word, he followed.

Camp lay wrapped in the blue-gray light before sunrise. Most of SaltClan still slept, the only sounds the distant crash of waves and the quiet murmur of the tide against the cliffs. The air was cool now, but Greenleaf’s heat already lingered beneath it, promising another sweltering day.

Pantherpaw fixed his gaze on Wolfstar’s tail, forcing himself to wake with every step.

What if there was a raid?

The thought came unbidden.

I’d have to wake and fight immediately.

He quickened his pace until he walked beside her.

Neither of them spoke.

They left camp behind, following the shoreline until the cliffs opened into a broad stretch of pale sand tucked between towering rocks. Waves rolled steadily onto shore, leaving ribbons of white foam that shimmered in the growing light.

Only then did Wolfstar stop.

“I know it’s early,” She said, blue eyes bright despite the hour. “but I’d rather train before the sun starts cooking us.”

Pantherpaw tried to return her smile.

His face only managed an awkward grimace.

If she noticed, she gave no sign.

“We haven’t had much time to train since I became your mentor.”

Because Leopardpaw disappeared.

The unspoken words tightened his chest.

His hackles prickled before he forced them flat again.

“I want to see where your skills are before we move forward,” Wolfstar continued. “There’s no sense teaching you things you already know.”

He nodded once.

Wolfstar stepped back, lowering herself into a fighting stance.

“So.”

She flicked her tail.

“Attack me.”

Pantherpaw lunged without hesitation.

Sand exploded beneath his paws as he charged.

Wolfstar ducked beneath his first strike so smoothly it barely looked like she had moved.

He twisted, claws digging into the sand as he pivoted after her.

She’d go left.

The rocks boxed her in on the right.

He shifted his weight, aiming where she’d have to dodge

Instead of retreating, Wolfstar drove straight into him.

Her shoulder slammed into his chest.

His balance vanished.

Before he could recover, they rolled together across the sand.

He hit the ground first.

Wolfstar’s paws settled firmly between his shoulders, pinning him to the earth.

His breath rushed from his lungs.

“That was good.”

He blinked.

Good?

He’d barely lasted a heartbeat.

She stepped off him with an encouraging flick of her tail.

“I liked that you committed.” She purred.

Pantherpaw rose slowly, brushing sand from his fur.

“I lost.”

“You did.” She nodded easily. “But this wasn’t about winning.”

He looked away.

“It was about seeing how you think.”

His ears flicked.

Wolfstar tilted her head.

“Why do you think that went poorly?”

He frowned.

Because he’d been pinned.

Because she’d barely even lost her breath.

Because she’d won.

“I didn’t beat you.”

“True.” She smiled. “But what did you learn?”

He stared blankly.

She waited.

No impatience.

No disappointment.

Just silence.

Finally she spoke again.

“After your first strike, you changed direction.”

She met his eyes.

“What were you trying to do?”

He shifted uneasily.

She already knew.

Why make him explain it?

“I thought…” he muttered. “…you’d dodge.”

“Where?”

“Left.”

“And?”

“I aimed where I thought you’d end up.”

Wolfstar smiled.

Warmly.

His stomach twisted.

She’s laughing at me.

His claws flexed.

She thinks I’m stupid.

His tail lashed once.

Wolfstar seemed not to notice.

“What made you think I’d go left?”

“Because…” His voice came out sharper than he intended. “Because I thought it’d work.”

Still smiling.

Still calm.

No correction.

No lecture.

Instead she simply turned toward the sea.

“Come with me.”

Confused, Pantherpaw followed.

The surf curled around their paws as they stood ankle-deep in the water.

Wolfstar didn’t speak.

She only watched the waves.

One rolled forward.

She drew in a slow breath through her nose.

The wave slipped away.

She breathed out.

Another wave.

Another breath.

Again.

And again.

Pantherpaw waited.

Surely she was about to explain.

She didn’t.

The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable.

Finally, without thinking, he matched her breathing.

The water washed over his paws.

He inhaled.

The tide retreated.

He exhaled.

Again.

Again.

The tightness beneath his skin began to loosen.

His tail stopped twitching.

The urge to snap at her drifted away with the surf.

By the time the sun crested the horizon, his breathing had settled into the rhythm of the waves.

Only then did Wolfstar look at him.

“So?”

He understood.

“I tried to hit where you would’ve dodged.”

She nodded.

“And why left?”

He glanced toward the rocks.

“Because the rocks blocked your right side.”

“There it is.” She smiled again.

This time it didn’t sting quite as much.

“That was clever.”

He blinked.

“It would’ve worked on a smaller cat. Even a quick one.”

She stretched her forelegs deeper into the surf.

“But I was never planning to dodge.”

“I noticed.”

A purr rumbled in her throat.

“I was always going to meet your weight with mine.”

Pantherpaw nodded.

She wasn’t bulky, but she was tall and solid. He had only just started passing her in size.

Of course she’d fight like a big cat.

“So…”

He hesitated. “What should I have done?”

Wolfstar shrugged.

“There are a few answers.”

She stepped back onto the sand.

“But I don’t want to tell you.”

His ears lifted.

“I want to see what your instincts say now.”

They returned to their starting positions.

Wolfstar lowered herself once more.

Pantherpaw studied her.

The rocks.

The sand beneath his paws.

The way she shifted her weight.

This time he stayed lower as he rushed forward.

When Wolfstar drove toward his chest again, he leaned into the collision instead of recoiling.

Their shoulders slammed together.

Instead of falling backward, he shoved.

Wolfstar skidded several paw-lengths through the sand before springing away.

“Good!” She laughed.

Her tail shot upright.

“Did you feel the difference?”

He frowned, confused.

“…No.”

“You weren’t trying to beat me.” She flicked his shoulder with her tail. “You were trying to solve the problem.”

He hadn’t thought about it that way.

“You could’ve leaned even harder into me.” She grinned. “You might’ve pinned me.”

He rolled his eyes, turning away to hide the corner of a smile threatening his face.

“I thought this wasn’t about winning.”

Wolfstar laughed outright. “It isn’t.”

For the next several hours they sparred.

After every exchange, they talked through what had happened.

Why he’d chosen one move instead of another.

What Wolfstar had noticed.

What she’d expected.

Whenever his frustration grew too sharp—whenever his claws dug into the sand or his breathing became ragged—she would quietly walk back into the surf.

She never had to ask.

Soon Pantherpaw found himself following.

The waves became their metronome.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

By midday the heat shimmered above the sand.

His dark pelt trapped every ray of sunlight.

“I’m done.” He spat after a particularly rough shove to his flank.

Wolfstar nodded immediately. “Good call.”

They began walking home with the cool water washing around their paws, a relief from the scorching sand.

After several moments, Wolfstar slowed.

“I want to ask you something.”

He stiffened.

“It might upset you.”

His stomach dropped.

“…Alright.”

She looked ahead instead of at him.

“What happened to your nest?”

He stared.

Of everything he’d expected…

That hadn’t been one of them.

Wolfstar continued quietly.

“I saw it after the other night.”

She glanced toward him.

“You’re still sleeping on bare ground.”

He stopped walking.

The tide curled around his paws.

Wolfstar waited.

Finally she asked,

“Did someone do that to your nest?”

For a moment, Pantherpaw almost laughed.

A short, disbelieving huff escaped him.

“No.”

Another pause.

“…It was me.”

Wolfstar nodded.

“Were you angry?”

“…Yes.”

“At Leopardpaw?”

His ears flattened.

“No…”

His voice caught.

“I’m…”

He swallowed.

“I’m not really sure why.”

The admission surprised him as much as it did her.

Wolfstar looked at the sea.

Then back to him.

“I don’t think you have to know why before asking for help.”

He said nothing.

“If you’re angry…”

She gestured toward the waves.

“…or scared…”

Another pause.

“…or if you just feel too much.”

Her voice remained gentle.

“Come find me.”

The words settled between them.

“I’ll help you.”

Pantherpaw stared down at the water swirling around his paws.

Part of him wanted to believe her.

A louder part insisted he didn’t deserve it.

When he didn’t answer, Wolfstar simply dipped her head and resumed walking toward camp.

After a moment, Pantherpaw followed.

Neither of them spoke again.

Without realizing it, he matched his breathing to the rhythm of the tide all the way home.

Cat Allegiances:

Wolfstar- 33 moons. Leader. Responsible. Compassionate. Keen eye.

Lynxdawn- 28 moons. Lead Cleric. Thoughtful. Faithful. Good teacher.

Snowspeckle- 44 moons. Deputy. Artisan. Loving. Polished. Great singer.

Nighthowl- 84 moons. Warrior. Insecure. Lonesome. Watches humans. Conditions: Shock.

Nightleap- 48 moons. Warrior. Insecure. Sneaky. Incredible runner.

Thistle-38 moons. Caretaker. Troublesome. Thoughtful. Keen eye.

Mallowstripe- 34 moons. Camp keeper. Nervous. Careful. Dream walker.

Shadowdive- 32 moons. Warrior. Blood thirsty. Loyal. Talented Swimmer

Ottersplash - 20 moons. Warrior. Insecure. Methodical. Good swimmer. Apprentice: Leopardpaw. Conditions: Burned. Smoke inhalation. Shock.

Sunfrost - 17 moons. Warrior. Oblivious. Playful. Good climber.

Frostcurl - 15 moons. Warrior. Bold. Faithful. Formidable fighter.

Dropletshine- 15 moons. Historian. Nervous. Lonesome. Learner of lore.

Kelpjay- 15 moons. Artisan. Charismatic. Responsible. Good potter.

Coralheart- 15 moons. Mediator. Flamboyant. Confident. Fast runner.

Sandswipe- 15 moons. Warrior apprentice. Fierce. Confident. Good hunter. Conditions: Head Damage. Smoke Inhalation.

Briarpaw- 9 moons. Thoughtful. Lonesome. Picky nest builder. Mentor- Mallowstripe.

Leopardpaw- 7 moons. Cunning. Righteous. Always wandering. +Unusually gifted. Mentor: Ottersplash. Condition: Smoke inhalation. Dehydration. Malnourished.

Pantherpaw- 7 moons. Vengeful. Gloomy. Avid play fighter. Mentor: Wolfstar

Cherrytail- 114 moons. Lonesome. Wise. Good mediator. Permanent Condition: Raspy lungs.

Morningkit- 2 moon. Quiet. Inquisitive. Loves nature

Jaggedkit- 2 moon. Unruly. Troublesome. Avid play fighter.

Moonkit- 2 moon. Sweet. Noisy. Loves to sing.

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There were four cats living together as friends. Three of them were gibs and kittypets who were very intelligent and valued the pursuit of knowledge above all else, but they lacked any common sense.

The fourth was very lackadaisical loner Tom who couldn’t be bothered to study or learn, but he had a great deal of common sense.

One day it was decided that knowledge meant nothing if they couldn’t show their brilliance to the world. So the four set out to do something great to prove their intelligence.

Not long into the journey the eldest of the gibs turned a harsh eye to the Tom and said.

‘You’ve no knowledge or gifts to share to better the world, you should return home.’

The second gib agreed, looking down upon the Tom with a hiss.

But the third gib stood between them and said.

‘That’s no way to speak to our friend, we’ve know him since kittenhood. If you send him home, you’ll send me as well.’

The Tom stayed silent out of shame as the three gibs argued and eventually it was decided he would still join them on their journey.

After a moon of traveling, learning, and teaching other cats of their knowledge the four came across the bones of a large beast across the forest floor.

The eldest gib was delighted and exclaimed.

‘Here’s a chance to show our gifts, we shall bring this beast back to life to prove our intelligence!’

The other two gibs were also excited, the youngest of the three turned to the Tom and said.

‘Go gather as many cats as you can to witness our brilliance.’

The Tom hesitated, but at his friends urging he did so. Gathering many kittypets and loners of the area who had already seen how smart the gibs were and were excited to see them accomplish such a feat.

The youngest gib announced to the crowd.

‘This is a dog’s skeleton, I shall arrange the bones as I know where each one goes.’

The crowd of cats oohed as the gib did just that.

The second gib stepped forward.

‘I can arrange its muscles and skin using clay to make it whole again.’

Again the crowd watched in awe as the gib did as they’d said.

Now the eldest of the gibs stepped forward, their paws on the beast’s lifeless clay chest as they spoke.

‘And I can breathe life into this beast.’

But the Tom stepped forward nervously, his voice soft as he said.

‘My friends, this is a dog, a great beast. If you bring it to life it will kill us all.’

The eldest gib, embarrassed to be shown up, hissed at him.

‘You are simply jealous!’

The second gib chimed in.

‘Yes, we must not waste our knowledge, we must use it at every opportunity.’

The youngest gib and the one closest with the Tom scoffed.

‘You will not hinder us any further, after our feat, you will no longer travel with us.’

But the tom with no knowledge and only common sense did not argue, he simply said.

‘Ok then wait a moment so I may climb this tree.’

The gibs and crowd watched him, no cat moving to join him. Once settled the eldest moved forward again, cupping his paws around the beast’s muzzle and breathing slowly into it.

The crowd’s cheers as the dog rose to its paws turned to screams as it devoured each cat entirely. Once it’s damage done and the beast had moved on, the Tom slowly climbed down from the safety of the tree and made his way home.

I’ve obviously changed a few things about the story to make it fit, but the lesson is very similar. Intelligence and wisdom are not the same thing, you have to have common sense in order to survive. There’s also an overt disdain for kittypets and the idea that while gibs are considered very gifted and intelligent, that doesn’t mean they can look down upon the other genders.

For big cats specifically I don’t think the clans really believed the big cats lived as clans, they interpret them as mythological almost with very few cats throughout history having ever ‘seen’ one. The cats are usually named similarly to the tribe of rushing water like Brook where small fish swim.

So there’s the celestial trio- Moon beneath the water a white tiger who represents gibs, water, the passage of time, and healing. Their stripes represent ripples in the water.

Then there’s Sun that warms the earth, a lion who represents mollies, fire, warmth, ground, and steadfastness. (The clans think all lions have manes but they do refer to females as lionesses)

And finally there’s Star that marks the path, a leopard/panther that represents toms, wind, dreams, borders, and the in between.

There’s more but these are the ones who I’ve fleshed out.

Now for smaller felines like lynxes and mountain lions they are rarely named or featured in folk stories within the clans (now the surrounding town may have their own stories). It’s only when the clans have prolonged conflict with them that they give the individual feline a name. This is also true for other predators like wolves, bears, foxes, badgers etc.

If it comes to that then the clan dealing with the predator would name them something like Sharp tooth, Long claw, Towering shadow, Howling fang etc.

Kelpjay led a small patrol north along the river border, the weight of Greenleaf pressing heavily against her pelt.

The further they traveled from the coast, the less relief the sea offered. The cool winds died away, replaced by still, humid air that clung to her fur. Even the river seemed sluggish today, its surface reflecting a pale, washed-out sky.

“Should we have waited to bring Coralheart?” Dropletshine called from behind.

A pair of crude leather satchels hung from her sides, the straps tugging awkwardly at her fur.

“She told us to go to the knoll without her.” Kelpjay shook out her coat. “She’s trying to talk to Pantherpaw again.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“You never did tell me what he did that made you so upset.”

“Oh.” Dropletshine looked away. “That was moons ago. Everything’s alright.”

“Mouse-shit.” Kelpjay snorted. “You were in tears.”

“There isn’t anything to tell.”

“You stopped volunteering for patrols with him.”

Dropletshine’s ears flattened.

“We just don’t mix.”

Kelpjay rolled her eyes but let it drop.

Ahead, a fallen tree stretched across the river.

“Let’s cross here. ” Dropletshine said suddenly.

The artisan smiled despite herself.

A clumsy subject change, but she didn’t argue.

As they crossed the log, Kelpjay surveyed HoneyClan’s riverbank.

“Ugh.” She grimaced. “Why does the HoneyClan side always have better clay? It’s the same river.”

Dropletshine immediately perked up. “It’s because of the current.”

Kelpjay suppressed a smile.

Her sister’s eyes shone.

“The river bends toward our side before it reaches the sea. Water moves faster here.”

She hopped down from the log.

“The faster current strips away softer soil. HoneyClan’s side gets slower water, so the clay and silt settle there instead of washing away.”

“So they get all the good clay.”

“And richer soil, flowers, better grains—”

“Stars, don’t encourage them.” Kelpjay cut her off with another snort.

For once Dropletshine laughed, letting her sister lead them along the border.

The sound felt strange in the heavy air.

Around them the grasses stood dry and brittle despite Greenleaf. Insects buzzed lazily. To their left she could smell the gathering place. Somewhere far overhead a flock of gulls wheeled inland, unusually far from the coast.

Kelpjay frowned.

That was odd.

Before she could dwell on it, voices drifted through the grass.

Both cats froze.

With a flick of her tail, Kelpjay signaled silence.

“Is that OakClan?” Dropletshine whispered after scenting the air.

Kelpjay narrowed her eyes.

“I think so.”

“Why’re they in HoneyClan territory?”

The artisan’s fur prickled. “And way too close to our border.”

Carefully, they crept through the tall grass.

The scents grew stronger.

OakClan.

HoneyClan.

Far too many cats.

“You have no business being here.”

Dropletshine’s eyes widened.

“That’s Rookstar.”

Kelpjay hushed her.

The voices became clearer.

“You crossed into our territory first,” another cat snapped.

Kelpjay recognized Sparrowclaw.

The OakClan deputy stood near the front of a large patrol.

Much larger than a normal border patrol.

Behind him clustered warriors and codekeepers.

HoneyClan’s group looked different.

Artisans.

Mediators.

Beekeepers.

Not cats expecting a fight.

Rookstar’s tail lashed.

“You crossed two fox-lengths past the markers.”

“Oh, now we’re measuring fox-lengths?” Sparrowclaw barked a laugh. “Last moon your patrol was hunting rabbits well beyond the tree line.”

“Because prey crossed the border.” Suntell, the leader’s artisan son cut in.

A young oakclan Tom, Shalerock lashed his tail. “And now land crosses borders too?”

Several OakClan warriors chuckled.

Rookstar’s fur puffed.

“You’ve been pushing deeper every moon.”

“We’re reclaiming what was ours.”

“It was never yours.”

“It was before you stole it.”

HoneyClan cats erupted into angry protests.

“We won those lands fairly!”

“Your leader agreed to the border!”

“You’re lying!”

The deputy laughed.

“Then call me a liar to my face.” Sparrowclaw stepped forward.

Immediately several HoneyClan cats moved to intercept him.

The atmosphere shifted.

Kelpjay’s stomach tightened.

“Keep still,” She whispered.

Dropletshine crouched lower.

Paleshade shoved through the OakClan patrol.

“We’re done listening to excuses.”

Rookstar bared his teeth.

“Then leave.”

“No.”

The single word landed like a stone.

Then Paleshade smiled.

A cold smile.

“Make us.”

Everything exploded.

Paleshade lunged first.

HoneyClan surged forward.

The riverbank dissolved into shrieks and flying fur.

Dropletshine squeaked and buried her face beneath her paws.

“We should go,” Kelpjay hissed. “We can’t get caught here.”

Still, she couldn’t look away.

It took two OakClan warriors to drag Rookstar to the ground.

Shiverleaf broke away from the fighting and sprinted toward camp.

Likely for help.

An oakclan warrior followed, gaining on her quickly.

The HoneyClan deputy launched herself onto an OakClan warrior’s back, claws digging into their shoulders.

“Kelpjay!” Dropletshine yanked her tail. “Move!”

Finally she tore her gaze away.

The two sisters backed through the grass before turning and running.

“What about the artisan knoll?” Kelpjay panted.

Dropletshine spun on her.

Her eyes looked wild.

“Do you know what we just saw?”

She shoved Kelpjay toward the fallen log.

“That was an ambush.”

Kelpjay hesitated.

“It looked like—”

“It was an ambush.”

Fear sharpened every word.

“HoneyClan wasn’t ready for a fight.”

Kelpjay crawled onto the log.

The wood shifted beneath her paws.

“There might be cats waiting for us too.”

Dropletshine glanced over her shoulder.

“We need to tell Wolfstar.”

They leapt onto SaltClan’s shore.

“We’ve never had trouble with OakClan.”

Kelpjay landed awkwardly, pain flashing through one paw.

“Neither did HoneyClan.”

Dropletshine’s voice shook.

The panic in her eyes looked close to tears.

“Please. Let’s just go.”

The two hurried south along the riverbank, kelpjay wincing with every step but not slowing.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then Kelpjay paused.

Something tickled her nose.

She lifted her head.

The wind had shifted.

A faint haze blurred the distant treeline.

And beneath the scents of river water, mud, and summer grass…

Something else.

A smell she couldn’t place at first.

Dry.

Bitter.

Ashen.

“Does it smell like smoke to you?”

The cleric den smelled wrong.

Not just herbs and damp moss, but ash. Smoke clung stubbornly to the stone walls and woven nests. Underneath it lingered the harsher scent of burnt fur and blistered flesh.

The den was unusually quiet.

No chatting. No muttered complaints. Only weak coughing, uneven breathing, and the occasional rustle of moss.

Sandswipe stirred with a low whine.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, pupils unfocused as the world swam in and out around her. Shapes blurred together above her head.

“She’s awake, love.”

The voice came low and rough-edged from somewhere nearby.

Sandswipe tried to answer, but the moment she opened her mouth a ragged cough tore from her throat.

“Easy now.” Lynxdawn’s voice this time. Gentle. Familiar. “Here, sweetheart, drink.”

Cool stone brushed Sandswipe’s lips. Her whiskers twitched against the rim of a cup as she drank greedily despite the pain. The liquid tasted thick and leafy, bitter beneath a faint spice.

Almost immediately the raw scraping in her throat eased, replaced by a strange slick numbness.

She sagged deeper into the nest with a weak exhale.

The fog in her head shifted enough for awareness to return all at once.

Her skull throbbed.

Something itchy tugged along the side of her face where herbs had been packed against her wound.

She’d been in a fire.

Ottersplash lay in the nest beside her, unnaturally still beneath heavy wrappings.

“Bdhh?” she mumbled thickly, panic trying weakly to claw through her exhaustion.

“Shhhh, it’s alright.” Lynxdawn bent to lick gently between her ears and across her nose bridge. “You’re safe. Just rest.”

Sandswipe gave a small, miserable whine.

The den spun again.

The last thing she heard before sleep dragged her under was her mother murmuring softly beside her.

By evening the camp had grown restless.

Patrols returned in clusters, pelts carrying smoke and fear back into camp alongside them. Cats whispered in tight groups outside the den entrance. Every pawstep made someone look up hopefully.

Ottersplash woke all at once.

His body seized violently as he lurched upright with a choking gasp.

“Leopardpaw?!”

The snarl ripped from his throat raw and panicked. His claws tore through the moss beneath him as he tried to stand.

Pain exploded through him instantly.

“Mother fuck!” Thistle cursed, leaping away from her sorting in panic. “The poppy seeds wore off.”

Before he could fully rise, the older molly threw herself across him, pinning him hard against the nest.

“Fetch Lynxdawn!” She barked toward the entrance.

Ottersplash barely heard her or the retreating paw steps.

“Where is she?” He coughed violently.

Every breath scraped like thorns through his chest. His wrapped paws burned as he struggled beneath Thistle’s weight, and the entire left side of his body felt aflame.

“Stay still, kid!” Thistle hissed. “You’re in the cleric den. You’re safe.”

“Leopardpaw?” His voice cracked into something desperate now.

Thistle’s expression faltered.

“We’ve got patrols searching,” She said carefully. “But the fire took a long time to die down.”

Ottersplash froze beneath her.

“The Twolegs had to bring those huge red water monsters,” She continued grimly. “Half the eastern forest’s scorched.”

The last of the fight drained from him instantly.

“I’m sorry, Odd,” Thistle whispered quickly, ears flattening. “We’re looking. I swear we are.”

More pawsteps thundered into the den.

“What in StarClan’s name are you doing?” Snowspeckle snapped.

“He tried to stand.” Thistle explained as Lynxdawn rushed in behind her.

The moment Thistle eased off him, Ottersplash surged upright again.

His burned flank screamed.

He collapsed instantly with a yowl.

“I’ve got him.”

Snowspeckle moved fast, pressing her larger body firmly over his shoulders before he could try again.

Usually her presence comforted him.

Now he barely noticed.

His mind raced uselessly through smoke and fire and Leopardpaw’s scent vanishing into the trees.

“Ottersplash.” Lynxdawn slid a small stone bowl toward him. Two black poppy seeds rested inside. “Take these.”

Snowspeckle pressed her muzzle briefly against his ear. “Please.”

Shaking, he swallowed them.

The pain didn’t vanish, but its sharpest edges dulled enough for him to breathe again.

Wolfstar stepped forward from the back of the den.

Only then did he realize who else had gathered there—Sunfrost stood rigid beside her, soot still streaking her bright fur. Thistle lingered nearby while Lynxdawn checked his bandages carefully for damage from his struggling.

“Tell me exactly what happened.” Wolfstar said quietly.

Ottersplash swallowed hard.

“We were on patrol.”

His voice rasped terribly as he recounted the day. The argument. Splitting Leopardpaw and Sandswipe apart. The strange dryness in the forest. The smoke.

The fire.

By the end his breathing had grown uneven again.

“I’m sorry,” He choked out finally. “I thought sending her toward the graveyard would cool her off. I didn’t think—I didn’t know—”

His voice broke completely.

Sunfrost crossed the den immediately.

“Shhhh,” She soothed, licking between his ears as Snowspeckle finally eased some of her weight off him. “You couldn’t have known.”

His mother took place beside him instead, curling protectively around his uninjured side.

“You have significant burns,” Lynxdawn murmured while adjusting the poultices along his flank. “Especially near your hip and paws. I’m treating them as best I can, but you’ll need at least a moon before you’re back on patrols.”

Ottersplash shut his eyes tightly.

Wolfstar remained steady.

“Think carefully,” She said. “Before the fire reached you—did anything seem strange? Hotter than normal? Any scents besides smoke?”

Ottersplash frowned weakly. “Everything smelled… dry. The closer we got to the border.”

Wolfstar and Snowspeckle exchanged a look.

“Do you think—” Snowspeckle started quietly.

“No!” Ottersplash snarled instantly, struggling upright again despite the pain. “Leopardpaw didn’t do this! She wouldn’t—”

“No one said she did.” Wolfstar interrupted firmly.

He stopped breathing for a moment.

The leader’s voice softened slightly.

“We’re trying to determine whether this was an accident,” She explained, “or if someone caused it.”

“The Jellicle clowder?” Snowspeckle asked grimly.

Ottersplash panted hard, throat shredded raw.

Lynxdawn pushed another cup toward him this time. Cool, salty broth coated his throat soothingly as he drank.

Wolfstar stood.

“I’m organizing more search patrols now that the fire is dead.”

Every cat in the den looked up immediately.

“It’s dark,” she continued, “so only experienced warriors are leaving camp.”

“I’m going too.” Snowspeckle added.

Wolfstar nodded once. “Take Nighthowl, Sunfrost, and Frostcurl. Search near the Hollow Nest and graveyard trails.”

Snowspeckle dipped her head sharply.

“I’ll send Nightleap and Mallowstripe through the Twolegplace paths,” Wolfstar continued. “Kelpjay and Thistle will search the opposite bank of the foot paths.”

“And you?” Lynxdawn asked quietly.

“I’m taking Shadowdive to speak with the Jellicle clowder.” Wolfstar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “If they saw anything, I want answers.”

Silence settled heavily over the den again.

Then Wolfstar looked back at Ottersplash.

For the first time since entering, her expression softened completely.

“We’ll find her,” She promised. “Rest now.”

Ottersplash nodded once.

As cats filed out, Lynxdawn bent beside him, curling where his mother had been, her tongue rasping into his scruff.

“Thank you.” She purred softly, soothing. “For saving my daughter.”

Only then, with the den finally quieting around him, did the full weight of the day crash down onto his shoulders.

Smoke.

Fire.

Leopardpaw vanishing into it alone.

His eyes burned suddenly—not from ash this time.

Light slowly bled back into Leopardpaw’s vision.

Not sunlight.

Something pale. False. Humming faintly overhead.

Her ears twitched weakly.

“Awake already?”

The voice came from somewhere nearby.

Leopardpaw’s heart jolted painfully against her ribs.

Where am I?

“You’re in my den, little one.” The voice replied with a soft chuff.

Fear prickled sharply beneath her pelt.

Her body felt impossibly heavy. Every breath scraped her throat raw. She coughed weakly, limbs refusing to obey when she tried to move.

What happened?

A low laugh answered her.

“You don’t remember?” It asked. “You ran straight into the fire.”

Fire…

“Yes.” The voice sounded amused now. “I’m told you didn’t even hesitate.”

Her thoughts stumbled sluggishly.

I did—

“You threw yourself right into the blaze,” It continued. “Though I admit, I expected you to make it farther before collapsing.”

The thing laughed again.

Cold this time.

Leopardpaw shivered despite the heat trapped beneath her skin.

“What happened?” It asked lightly. “Trying to save someone? Be a hero?”

No, she thought miserably. I didn’t even know…

“Mm.” The voice clicked its tongue. “That’s even less impressive.”

A weak whine escaped her throat.

Water.

Everything hurt. Her eyes stung. Her mouth felt packed with ash.

“None of that,” It chided. Softer now. “You’ve already disappointed me enough.”

Leopardpaw forced air painfully into her lungs.

The floor creaked softly behind her.

Then suddenly the presence moved.

Fast.

Leopardpaw flinched instinctively as something landed behind her with a quiet thud.

Her mind finally began to clear enough to notice her surroundings.

Walls.

Not stone walls like the cleric den.

Smooth walls.

Everywhere.

Her stomach dropped.

A twoleg nest.

Her fur prickled immediately.

The den was completely enclosed, lit by one of the strange glowing lights Twolegs used instead of flame. Strange objects crowded the edges of the room—towering shapes, sharp scents, things she couldn’t understand.

She lay in the middle of it all.

I need to leave.

“Oh!” the voice purred delightedly. “There you are.”

Leopardpaw’s breath hitched.

“You’ve become alert much faster than I expected.”

Soft pawsteps circled her slowly.

She tried to follow them with her ears, but exhaustion dragged at her thoughts like mud.

Her head dropped heavily back against the floor.

“A promising sign,” The voice mused. “I was worried the smoke might’ve made you stupid.”

Leopardpaw let out a weak hiss.

The voice paused.

Then quieter—

“Though… I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

The floor creaked again.

“You’re lucky, you know.” Its tone shifted strangely, almost conversational now. “I don’t allow just anyone in here.”

Leopardpaw’s claws flexed weakly against the ground.

“This is my sanctuary,” It continued. “The only shrine I’ve ever been able to truly sleep in.”

A sharp click echoed through the room.

Instantly the strange light vanished.

Darkness flooded over her.

Leopardpaw’s pulse hammered violently now.

Who are you?

Warm breath brushed suddenly against her whiskers.

Close.

Far too close.

“Let’s see how long it takes you to stand,” the voice whispered.

Her body locked— rigid.

Who are you?

A soft chuckle answered her from the dark.