#arc four

It was starting in the north – groups of well-muscled cats were spreading out from the leaders’ home and small, fleet messengers and scouts raced ahead of them, darting around like dragonflies over a pond, skidding to a halt in front of traveling cats or nesting families and informing them with wide, intense eyes about this dangerous group of rebels that no one could find or predict.

A fine way to spread panic, the Runagate thought, then, more cynically, not that it will help.

Indeed, a lifetime of easy hunting and dozing days had lulled most of these cats into hardly having the energy to look doubtfully at each other before politely thanking the reporter for the news and sending them away so naptime could resume. The Fleet were taking their jobs seriously; the “civilians”, as they always referred to the rest of the Clan, were not.

Still, the Runagate knew this calm before the storm. Certainly not on this scale, but they’d seen it before. Now was not the time to sit around, confident that things would be fine.

Not that it ever was.

The brothers would have to go without seeing their mother. Four patrollers had been stationed around her, and all of them looked ready for a fight. Even that big white fellow would struggle against them, and the rest of his friends weren’t exactly soldiers (though perhaps Redheart could take a swing or two). The resting ground for the Vultures and this Nettlecloud were out of the way anyway, but the Runagate had a feeling that wouldn’t have been an issue for the dying molly’s sons.

The thing they would consider an issue was the search party still following them. They were marching at a steady pace, one that cats of the Fleet would be able to keep up even over a week. It was, after all, their duty to travel.

The Runagate checked in on them much more regularly than they had ever done for anyone else. Redheart’s eagerness had rubbed off on them, and now they didn’t just want to run away or warn. They wanted to be active. They wanted to contribute and really observe the world around them. They were awake.

It was a rather nice feeling, really.

And so they watched, and followed, and popped back in to the renegades on the evening after their talk with Redheart. Everyone was awake this time. They really had no choice but to make themselves seen.

The dark grey one noticed them first. Her ear twitched at the whispers of the Runagate’s movement through the grass. When she looked around, she said aloud, “Is someone here?”

The rest of the group raised their heads as well, now alert. All of them stood up, even the blind one, who hardly seemed bothered on a bad day. Redheart and Greyleaf sniffed the air and perked up.

“It’s alright,” Redheart said to the others. “This is a friend.” She could not see the shade, but she seemed to know where they were anyway, looking in their direction. “Come on out. You’re safe here.”

A moment’s hesitation, developed from generations of frightening others with their appearance… and then, for once, finally, the Runagate stepped into the open.

Their reception was not unanimous – the dark grey one, the white fellow and his little brown friend all bristled and made various noises of alarm. Redheart, Greyleaf and the brother were hardly ruffled, just nodded a greeting. The blind molly sniffed the air and her ears slid back, tail slowly winding back and forth like a snake as her eyes narrowed in concentration.

The apprentice was the interesting one. She gasped and almost leaned back where she stood, eyes wide in shock. “It’s you!”

Your mind is awakened, I sense. The Runagate lowered their head a little in a half-nod. Perhaps I’ve hurt you that way. I’m sorry.

“I’m not hearing anything,” the blind one said slowly, “but I am hearing something all the same. Is this…?”

“The Runagate.” Greyleaf swept out with a paw in a slightly sardonic gesture of beholding. “Meet the catalyst for all of this, everyone.”

The white and dark grey cats relaxed a little, though their eyes were wary. The brown one’s back hair still bristled and his mouth was shut tight.

“S’alright, Beetlefoot,” the brother said patiently. “We got us an ally here.”

“We do.” Redheart looked to the Runagate, standing tall, all business again. “You’ve got news, I assume?”

Indeed. The Runagate took a moment to feel half a flicker of amusement at the slight shivers of the white cat as they spoke, then continued. It would seem the entirety of the Fleet is after you. News is spreading south that you’re all wanted. If you’re to head north, it'd be wise to go as quickly as possible. Perhaps not through the valley, though. They turned their gaze to the brothers. And I could not get close to your mother to see exactly how she’s doing. There’s a patrol there who I would say are looking to arrest you if you go near her.

The brother and Greyleaf sighed in unison, a shaky, unhappy pair of sighs. The wary and hostile cats simmered down into sympathy and shared worried expressions with each other.

I assume you know there’s a patrol after you, the Runagate continued, and went on after a round of nods. They’re moving a little faster than you all are. You’re hidden in the grass, but your scent is fresh, and they’re closing in. I would pick up the pace. Or perhaps go somewhere they cannot follow.

A moment of silence before the apprentice turned her head to gaze at the mountain they had been trekking towards. “Is there any way we can lose them up there? It’s steeper than the hills, it looks like…”

“The mountain?” the blind one asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s perfect.” She smiled and lifted her tail high. “It’s steep and it’s full of tunnels. Very easy to traverse if you know your pathway.”

“Which none of us do,” the brother said.

“I do, my boy,” the blind one said with a bit of a teasingly condescending tone. “I’ve been all over that half of the mountain. I can get us through that part easy.” She paused, then hummed. “The problem would be when we hit the Brae’s forest. They won’t take a shining to us intruding on their land.”

“I can guide us then,” the brown one said suddenly.

Everyone looked at him with great surprise. His eyes were now on the ground, but he still stood stiff and tall (about as tall as he could get, at least).

“That’ll be useful,” the blind molly remarked after the silence had gone on long enough. “Then we have our path set.”

“Once we’re on the mountain, we’ll be able to see the cats after us better, I think.” The white one now looked nervously to the Runagate. “How… how close are they now?”

They’d catch you within half a day, were you to stay still.

“Then we better not waste time.” Redheart’s eyes went round to each cat. “Are you all willing to walk a little more into the night? The sooner we reach the mountain, the sooner we can stop for longer, if we are indeed hidden.”

“We will be.” The blind cat nodded. “I can promise you that.”

“I say we move, then.” The brother looked to Greyleaf, then to the others, who all voiced their agreement. To Redheart, he said, “Best go now.”

“Right.” Redheart turned her tired-but-awake eyes to the Runagate. “You’re free to do as you like, but we’d appreciate if you could keep an eye on those chasing us. Or if you see anything we should know about.”

Happy to help. The Runagate bowed their head – then, just to be a little cheeky, they took a step back and vanished into the dark, allowing themselves a little smile when the grey molly swore in shock.

 ---

 No time was wasted. The second the Runagate was gone, Redheart and Darkpelt took the lead, keeping the group going at a brisk trot even into the night. The grass shrank and softened under their feet, then gradually vanished as the ground steeped upwards so suddenly that one could trip and fall if they weren't paying attention. The soil reddened and turned airy, until dust kicked up with even the most gentle of steps.

“No wonder the Versant cats all smell like dust,” Flyfang grumbled, nose wrinkled as she failed to fight off a sneeze.

“Is it as bad as smelling like mud and fish?” Darkpelt asked cheerily, head almost upside down over her back. “We all gotta smell like where we live, you know.”

“Keep your voices down,” Beetlefoot hissed. “Someone might be around.”

“Not at this time of night.” Darkpelt waved her tail, dismissing his worries. “Versant just relaxes at home when it gets dark. And there should be some hollows close ahead we can stop in for the night.”

Beetlefoot didn’t respond, but Flyfang could see he wasn’t satisfied with that. She tapped his side with her tail, not sure if she was jokingly prodding him or trying to reassure him that it was fine. Either way, he stiffened in his paces, so she withdrew and kept trotting alongside Littlepaw.

“How are you doing?” she asked her apprentice (her apprentice!) in an undertone.

“Tired,” Littlepaw whispered back. “But I can keep going, I promise.”

“Good thing we don’t have far to go.” Flyfang eyed Darkpelt’s strutting form, which almost blended into the shadows. “At least, she thinks so.”

Darkpelt made a sound that was vaguely amused. “I know so, my friend. Here, actually- the ground just hardened. We’re a hop away.”

“Um…” Laurelclaw craned his neck forward, peering at the bumpy red dust and rocks they were scaling, pine trees jutting up in their way. “I know it’s dark, but I don’t see anything like a den up ahead.”

“That’s the point!” Darkpelt hopped up onto a cropped-out stone without slowing down. “Everyone follow me.”

One by one, the cats jumped after her, going in a single-file line. Being cats, they had fine balance, but those that had lived in the flatlands, such as the brothers and Flyfang herself, couldn’t escape wobbling a bit on the narrowing paths that were littered with oversized pebbles. Flyfang hardly had a chance to complain before Darkpelt turned left immediately after a pine tree and vanished. Redheart, immediately after her, disappeared as well with a noise of surprise – then Greyleaf, then Mistface, then Littlepaw, and then Flyfang, with Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot behind her.

Behind the pine was a hollowed out den that seemed to stretch on forever into the earth. The ceiling and walls were crossed unevenly with zig-zagging tree roots holding the soil in place. It was cool and dry, and when Flyfang looked back outside, she had a perfect view of the valley they had just left. It was too far away to see whoever was following them, but then again, those cats couldn’t see the den either, so perhaps it didn't matter.

“Wow…” Laurelclaw had to crouch a little and duck his head to fit through the entrance, but he was able to straighten up as the den widened out. “This is perfect. Why isn’t anyone here?”

“There’re dens and tunnels all over here,” Darkpelt said. “Enough to house half the Clan. It’s called ‘the Rootlands’ by natives. The pines made the ground stable enough to be dug up wherever one pleases.”

Mistface tilted his head. “You travel here a lot to know all this?”

“I was born here, actually.” Darkpelt gave a self-satisfied nod. “Let me tell you what, nothing gets you prepped for walking blind like living on a slope like this.”

“That explains a lot about you,” Beetlefoot muttered.

Darkpelt laughed and gestured with her paw in a sweeping motion. “Settle down, everyone. We’ll have to go without hunting for tonight – there’s nothing around here.”

“That sucks.” Greyleaf stretched one side of his mouth back in a half-grimace. “Well, I can wait.”

“I can too.” Flyfang pawed at a spot ahead of her and sat down on it, a little put off by how stiff the ground was. “We’ll hunt as soon as we can.”

Various murmurs of unhappy resignation echoed in the den. Everyone gradually found a place to rest, settled down and fell into silence. Littlepaw rested against Flyfang, paws tucked tightly under her body and eyes unfocused.

Flyfang gently nosed her shoulder. “What’s on your mind, kiddo?”

Littlepaw didn’t answer at first. When she did, her voice was so quiet the den didn’t carry it around the walls. “Just thinking about…” She shuffled. “Everything. All these lies we get told.” She frowned. “Or maybe they weren’t lies. But I don’t know, and it bothers me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, StarClan’s a lie, and we all believed it, right?” Littlepaw looked up at her mentor, eyes glimmering with distress. “But then the Runagate’s real, but they’re good. And I got thinking while we walked – if the aspects were real, wouldn’t they have stopped this monster for us? Aileron’s whole thing is fighting off evil beings. Why couldn’t she do anything?”

No one spoke, but Flyfang could see they were all listening.

“And the rest of the stories!” Littlepaw’s curly-furred tail puffed out. “All these spirits and ghosts and beasts, I don’t even know if they’re real. Does anyone? Were they ever real? Were they just fables to scare kits? Are any of the predators the patrollers talk about… do they even exist? What’s real and what isn’t? How can we tell?”

Silence. Littlepaw stared into Flyfang’s eyes desperately, like she had the answers. She took in a soft breath and let it out slowly.

“Well,” she said quietly, “I suppose the only way we’re going to find out is when we take out the biggest factor in the equation. Whatever it’s created, maybe that’ll go away with it.”

“We can’t assume much on the part of the aspects, anyway,” Redheart said, voice between firm and soothing. “It’s possible that StarClan is too strong even for them.”

“And if they’re just a story too?” Littlepaw’s voice hitched and she looked at the deputy now, ears pinned back.

“We’ll cross that trail when we get to it.” Redheart’s usually weary and hard face was soft and a little melancholy. “Right now, I wouldn’t worry about it. We have much bigger prey to catch. Whatever comes next will come next.”

“Can’t promise nothin’,” Mistface said on the tail-end of a yawn. “But if it helps, lil’un, I’d like to think them bein’ part of our tales and communities makes them real enough. They’ve been inspirin’ and entertainin’ all this time, drivin’ cats to be better or happier with the world around them. Ain’t that more important than if they’re actually causin’ the rain and snow?”

There was no answer again, but the air in the den warmed and relaxed. Laurelclaw sighed like he had been holding his breath. Greyleaf nodded approvingly to his brother. Flyfang felt Littlepaw lose the tension in her body, and her tail-fur smoothed out again.

“That does help,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

Mistface’s lazy smile on his face seemed more genuine than it usually was. “Our deputy here’s right, anyway. No purpose in worryin’ now. Let’s focus on what we got right in front of us.” His eyes slid over to Greyleaf. “Not that it’s much more soothin’ of a topic.”

Greyleaf huffed a chuckle. “It’ll just be a bad dream soon enough.”

Flyfang looked down at Littlepaw as she shifted to lean against her mentor, eyes shutting. Flyfang helped her along with a purr, and soon Littlepaw’s breaths slowed. Everyone else fell asleep soon after her, but Flyfang was awake for just a bit longer. She studied their faces, how some twitched their lips or ears, how Greyleaf and Redheart’s expressions were tight and troubled. Were they seeing it still?

Flyfang gradually lowered her chin onto her paws, staring ahead at nothing. She didn’t want to admit that Littlepaw’s worries were gently digging their dirty little talons into the back of her head as well.