#barleywave

Branchsnarl and Airswift argue over nesting space in the warrior's den. Cloudthunder is frustrated when she has to break them up. Airswift scoffs and storms off.

(Branchsnarl, warrior, trans male, 16 moons. Ambitious.) (Airswift, warrior, male, 11 moons. Charismatic.) (Cloudthunder, warrior, female, 54 moons. Loyal.)

Deerpaw brought back some feathers for the kits to play with.

(Deerpaw, apprentice, female, 11 moons. Righteous.) (Hazelkit, kitten, male, 1 moon. Charming.) (Ghostkit, kitten, male, 1 moon. Shy.) (Mulberrykit, kitten, female, 1 moon. Quiet.)

Morningspot teaches Owlpaw battle moves. Owlpaw focuses intensely on this, excelling in the lesson. Morningspot praises her during sparring. The excess effort releases enough of Owlpaw's stress for her to no longer feel helpless. Owlpaw is no longer Afflicted.

(Morningspot, warrior, female, 23 moons. Nervous.) (Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 8 moons. Adventurous.)

Perchwatcher appreciates Brackenfreckle's hard work, even if Brackenfreckle acts grumpy at times.

(Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 16 moons. Responsible.) (Brackenfreckle, healer, female, 19 moons. Grumpy.)

Blackpaw and Riftgorse catch Branchsnarl doing something embarassing and promise not to tell.

(Branchsnarl, warrior, trans male, 16 moons. Ambitious.) (Riftgorse, warrior, male, 19 moons. Charismatic.) (Blackpaw, apprentice, female, 6 moons. Insecure.)

Redstar takes Cottonpaw and Deerpaw out training, and brings Barleywave with them. Redstar teaches the apprentices the new procedure of how to handle Nature's Mockeries.

(Redstar, leader, female, 80 moons. Strict.) (Barleywave, warrior, male, 50 moons. Playful.) (Cottonpaw, apprentice, female, 11 moons. Bold.) (Deerpaw, apprentice, female, 11 moons. Righteous.)

---

Things had moved quickly while Redstar was sick with whitecough. It had only been two moons since the Gardener attack, but already ForestClan was shifting in a new direction. Redstar was somewhat grateful that she managed to iron out new lockdown and out-of-camp procedures before she became too sick to think straight. Now, with a clearer head, she could really observe the results.

The slick, green Twoleg linen that Lucifer had gifted them was waterproof - to the Clan's excitement. There was a bit of bickering about where it could best be used, before settling on using it to shield the cooking fire and drying racks, to keep the area free of snow in the coming leaf-bare.

Barleywave led the charge in helping with wall repairs over the past two moons - they only had to fully replace one full tree trunk in the end. Other pieces of the wall were being repaired by cutting away broken sections, and flattening out logs to stack on top of each other; securing them with twine and pine sap. It was an all-day affair to drag and erect a suitable replacement for the completely obliterated section. She remembered hovering around anxiously as it was being dragged with rope, group effort, and careful guidance. She would've assisted, if it weren't for literally everyone telling her to go away before she spread whitecough to them. But still - they succeeded, and the wall was replaced, even if a few sections were uneven.

Cottonpaw's idea for a bunker closer to the ground was well received - and it was decided to be made closer to the medicine den. It would need to be built in newleaf, since the snow would get in the way of hollowing out the space. Still - Redstar's heart warmed when she saw a pile of design concepts etched in birch bark laying next to Cottonpaw's bedding.

Torch bearings were erected near the gate doors. Repairing the broken pulley for the gate took a few weeks - until then, cats mostly weaved through the gap made by the loose door. She was grateful that Branchsnarl, Olive and Perchwatcher had managed to find an oak log suited to replacing the pulley; with enough carving and wearing down. It was a good beginner lesson for Blackpaw and Shadepaw in camp-keeping. A shame Shadepaw caught yellowcough after all that - he seemed enthused.

So much more had changed that caused Redstar's head to spin. She learned that Olive was learning some proper sparring techniques with Barleywave - pushed by the new rule of needing to learn combat with fire. Owlpaw was still distant, but Redstar learned that Owlpaw taught herself how to craft frames with twine and sticks as meditation, and Daffodilpaw started putting them together. The sisters created in silence with no expectations - and now, a cube, a pyramid and a ball-like toy were strewn about the entrance of the nursery, with Iciclepool and Hopechase's kits batting at them. Cats were going over how to deal with Woodcrawlers and Fake Cats if they were encountered in the woods. The only true roadblock was the red, fleshlike Woodcrawler that Shiverstep spoke of - and that Brackenfreckle confirmed the existence of. The only method of defense they knew was backing away from it slowly - but even then, the two mollies weren't sure of anything beyond that. Fire would be their weapon against it until they knew more.

Redstar decided today to teach the procedure against Nature's Mockery.

She gathered Cottonpaw, and Deerpaw, and had Barleywave join. After all, he was the one who found one growing in a small clearing devoid of shrubs or wilted overgrowth. They needed to handle it soon, before the first snowfall came and buried half of it.

"Cottonpaw, watch where you're turning here. Shrub branches," Barleywave meowed.

"Yeah, I know, I'm careful," Cottonpaw replied. Redstar suppressed a scowl. She twitched her ear.

"You're carrying our flame. He's right to warn you," she said.

"Well yeah, I know, but I think you guys underestimate how sturdy these containers are! What did Lucifer call them, jars?" Cottonpaw asked as she glanced down at the transparent, Twoleg container that was strapped to a leather harness at her side. In the container was a pile of hot cinders, cushioned by a thin mouse pelt at the bottom. A golden lid with many small holes allowed strands of smoke to escape. Her hazel eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "Perchwatcher's brilliant! She came up with the idea to use these to - "

"It doesn't matter, Cottonpaw, those things still can break! Remember the one mom dropped?" Deerpaw interjected, her tail flicking. "The pierces were sharp! We have to be careful anyway."

Cottonpaw's fur bristled as she carefully moved around the shrubs. "I know that! I'm just saying that - "

"Hey." Redstar interjected firmly. The two littermates fell silent. Redstar's ear swiveled, keeping her voice leveled. "You are in the woods. Our opponents are ambush predators. Be alert and aware."

Barleywave, who was leading the front, flicked his tail once in agreement. "It's worth keeping an ear out."

Cottonpaw and Deerpaw were silent for the remainder of the patrol.

Finally, after a few minutes, Barleywave stopped before the start of a clearing, sloped down in a path of tree roots and scattered stones. He beckoned Redstar with his tail quietly. The leader padded beside him and scanned the scene before her. The ground was cold and dry with wilted nettles and blackened leaves, seasonal weeds and plants had wilted and died out in the leafbare chill. In the shadows of the spruce trees, Redstar spotted it. It could've been mistaken for the burned remains of a Twoleg fire from afar - laying in a triangular shape. But ForestClan knew better.

Cottonpaw and Deerpaw slowly crept beside the two warriors, spotting the Nature's Mockery nestled near a set of trees below. Deerpaw cautiously raised her nose and tasted the air.

"The wind is blowing the opposite direction," she noted.

Redstar nodded. "Yes. Otherwise, you likely would smell something by now, though faint." Redstar cautiously took a few pawsteps forward. "We should be safe - stay two foxlengths away from it."

Cottonpaw and Deerpaw obeyed as they shuffled their way down, careful not to drag any nettles or stones with them. Barleywave staggered forward more confidently, removing a long, makeshift torch from the harness he strapped on his back.

"Barley," Redstar hissed in warning.

"This one's already hatched, Redstar," he pointed out.

"Yes, I know that, but we're teaching a procedure. At least treat it like one."

Barleywave mumbled something, his ears flattening. He sat down opposite of Redstar, as Cottonpaw and Deerpaw sat side by side, staring at the Nature's Mockery apprehensively. Cottonpaw twitched and started withdrawing the glass jar from her pouch with her mouth.

"So. Brief refresher - Cottonpaw, give us a description of the Nature's Mockery," Redstar asked. Cottonpaw let out a grunt as she pulled out the jar.

"A' a'ure's 'ockery ish - ack, 'old on," Cottonpaw slowly placed the jar on the ground, then licked her teeth and let out a quick yawn. "Sorry! Nature's Mockery are plants created by Deep Root entities. They tend to just appear overnight, so we're not sure how they make them. They look like that," she said as she pointed towards it. Her attempt at levity brought a smirk to Barleywave, but Deerpaw and Redstar seemed unamused. Cottonpaw cleared her throat awkwardly. "Er…but they can be brown or more reddish too."

"Good," Redstar nodded. "Deerpaw, tell me what it does."

Deerpaw straightened. "If you touch one, you're likely to experience horrible symptoms. The most common are hallucinations and paralysis. Stay in contact too long and your cuts stop healing and bones can fracture."

"Yes, close."

"Close?" Deerpaw repeated, baffled. "But - that's what Riversnow taught me!"

"And she's right," Barleywave interjected. "But it's the, uh…polite way of putting it. You're almost of warrior age now, it's fine to be blunt about it." Barleywave winced as he continued. "The, uh…official symptoms for prolonged contact are body disfigurement and flesh decay."

Cottonpaw and Deerpaw both bristled. Deerpaw recovered, her fur flattening quickly. Cottonpaw a little less so - her hazel eyes intently focused on the splitting effigy before them.

"You've been advised that red or brown Mockeries are to be avoided. Correct?" Redstar asked. Both apprentices nodded.

"Then today, I'm showing you how to destroy one, per our new procedure."

Cottonpaw raised a paw, then spoke without waiting for an answer. "Was Airswift shown this before he graduated?"

Redstar frowned at her apprentice. Cottonpaw blinked, somewhat regretful, but still kept her gaze. Redstar knew that Cottonpaw and Deerpaw weren't pleased that their brother became a warrior before them, but she had good reasons for it. Namely, Airswift was incredible at taking directions and listening to older warriors. He was volunteering to join patrols of his own accord, and performed apprentice tasks like cleaning out bedding and kit-care without complaint. He had shown considerable maturity during his apprenticehood - and she had no reason to doubt that Airswift would learn this procedure alongside the younger warriors tomorrow.

"I plan to have him join Branchsnarl and Perchwatcher tomorrow for an outing. They will also need to learn this. It's a new procedure entirely."

Cottonpaw's ear flicked. She placed her paw back down and stared at the jar before her. "Okay. So, how do we start?"

"Step one: big stick," Barleywave piped up, picking the stick back up. "Step two, light stick on fire. Step three, set mousedunged plant on fire."

Redstar glared at Barleywave with exasperation. "No, not quite."

"I mean, that is the long and short of it," the tom insisted.

"Barley, you were at the meeting."

"I know! I know, I'm teasing," Barleywave said defensively. Redstar rolled her eyes, deciding she'd lead the lesson. She approached him, and Barleywave decided to surrender the floor to her and gave her the stick. Redstar turned towards the Nature's Mockery.

For a moment, she observed it intensely. Its form told a story of tangling vines reaching and circling towards the sky, until their own weight caused them to bend and fall into one another. Stems would split and reach towards a perch - another tree, their own bodies, whatever it took - and thick, flesh-like membranes would fill the gaps left behind by the engulfing roots. A horrible mimicry of a protective shield - an egg, a womb, a den.

There was a final feeling of anger and determination that filled her chest. Then, she began.

"First - determine the life stage of the Mockery. This is important." Redstar turned to glance at her apprentice as she said this. "Do not skip this stage. Red or brown Mockeries are fresh, and likely to inflict more harmful symptoms. They are more likely to have roots that extend further out from their base - meaning that you can step on one without realizing it. Watch your step and ensure you have a clear, stable path to both approach and leave as fast as possible."

Deerpaw and Cottonpaw glanced around at their feet, then the Nature's Mockery. Deerpaw's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the plant's exterior.

"This one's black. Is it dead?"

"Correct. This is a dead or dying Mockery. It is the safest variant, but you can still be afflicted by mild symptoms if you touch it."

Cottonpaw flicked her ear and got to her feet. "Okay. Which one is more dangerous - a red or brown one?"

Barleywave shrugged and responded. "We don't make it a habit to test that, so we don't know. We assume the red one is more dangerous, since it's still growing - but both are hazardous."

"Regardless," Redstar interjected, "Stay alert at all times. For the second step of the procedure - carefully light the torch with the cinders brought. Do not do this alone. For the sake of demonstration, I'll be burning this Mockery today - we'll practice technique on a dummy near camp."

Cottonpaw seemed to brighten with recognition, her tail flicking "Oh yeah! Perchwatcher was working on that," she said.

Deerpaw rolled her eyes. "You were also distracting her a lot." Deerpaw immediately regretted it as Redstar whipped her gaze on her. Barleywave waved his tail in front of Redstar, prompting peace. He gestured his head to Cottonpaw. The apprentice just made a face and shrugged, unbothered. The calico suppressed a sigh.

"Open the jar, please."

Cottonpaw held it down with her paws and gnawed it slightly to force the lid to turn. When it loosened, she batted at it with one of her paws until it came off. She held it out and watched Redstar expectantly.

"Hold it in place," Redstar ordered. Cottonpaw obeyed, and Redstar tilted the torch into the cinders. After a few moments, smoke emitted from the torch, rising upward.

"Now tilt the jar slightly, so I can remove the torch without extinguishing the flame." Cottonpaw obeyed, and Redstar grasped the torch tightly in her jaws before removing it slowly. The moment the torch came into contact with the air, the resin-covered birch bark was set ablaze brightly, causing the two apprentices to recoil in surprise. Barleywave let out a mrrow of amusement.

"You've seen how birch bark burns before. It doesn't make cinders, but it burns bright and fast."

"The pine resin maintains the flame and burns the torch for a while - but not too long. Enough to create cinders to burn the Mockery with," Redstar added. She turned solemnly to the Mockery. "The final steps - approach the Mockery slowly. Do not rush. If the flame goes out - so be it. Your life is more valuable than doing this task quickly. Watch me carefully."

Redstar slowly scanned her feet, taking careful steps forward. She scrutinized the ground for any stray deep roots and foreign things. She could hear Barleywave lightly continuing the lesson - pointing out how the leader looked carefully around her every time, and made sure each of her steps was safe and calculated. Finally, when Redstar came within reach, she held her breath as the Nature's Mockery imposed itself upon her. Like it dared her to take another step.

Redstar paused as she stared at the interior of the Mockery - rotting and collapsing like a destroyed nest. Bits of debris and flesh-like webbing still clung onto the branches.

For a moment, she thought she saw curled branches within its heart, like the corpse of a dead insect. Apprehension surged through her; her body warning her that she was poking a sleeping bear.

She pushed it aside. The Mockery was dead. There was nothing inside.

Redstar slowly extended the torch within the plant's cavity. The flames licked at the black fibres above it, until another flame was born, consuming the webbing like clouds swallow sunlight. Redstar continued to bring the torch to other flammable locations, and eventually, whisps of fire slowly ate away at every strand and tendril. Redstar then slowly withdrew the torch, turned around, and retraced her steps. The apprentice's gazes were focused intensely on the spectacle that the torch had given - there were no flames, or heat. It was like swarms of insects were devouring every inch of the Mockery at lightning speed, leaving red imprints before dissolving into ash.

Redstar dug a small hole in the cold, wet ground, and stabbed the lit torch into it, extinguishing the cinders. "I can do this because it's leafbare, and the ground is wet and frozen. Do not do this in any other season, or you'll risk causing a forest fire. Normally, we'd bring water - to both extinguish the torch, and douse the Mockery once it's finished burning."

And for a while, that was it. The four cats grimly stared as the Nature's Mockery burned away slowly, until one of its structural branches snapped and collapsed. The structure fell apart like firewood, until all that was left was soot-colored debris.

"The point isn't to make every bit of it dead - just destroy its structure. It's…similar to destroying a tree. It won't grow leaves or spit sap if it's a mere stump."

From the look in the apprentices' eyes, Redstar knew they absorbed the lesson.

As the patrol packed up and headed back towards camp, Deerpaw and Barleywave treaded further ahead, with Redstar and Cottonpaw trailing behind.

Cottonpaw spoke. "Hey, Redstar?"

Redstar's ear twitched in response.

"There's something that's been on my mind for a while. I've put it aside for the most part, but…I guess it came back to me today."

Redstar glanced at her apprentice. Cottonpaw stared straight ahead, wordlessly putting one foot in front of the other. The way Cottonpaw began her sentence seemed heavy, which concerned Redstar.

"What is it?"

"I guess seeing the dead Mockery just…had me remembering something is all." Cottonpaw swallowed. "...Fake Cats. I've never seen one. The cats are…dead. Right?"

Redstar flinched, stopping briefly in her tracks before restarting. "Sorry. Yes, they are. We know this with certainty."

"How? If you don't mind me asking." Cottonpaw sounded uncharacteristically timid.

Redstar let out a purr of reassurance. Fake Cats were unnerving as a concept, nevermind a real, existing threat. It was a common fear that Fake Cats were not truly dead - one she was happy to dispel. "First, we know through our connection with StarClan. Clerics would reach out to StarClan to find if a lost cat was among them - and if they were, their Fake would be found after a few days. I've seen it happen myself when I was younger. Second, in the rare occasions that we'd fight and defeat them - Fake Cats were always husks, inhabited by Deep Roots. No eyes, no organs, just puppets." Redstar glanced at Cottonpaw. "Fake Cats are not alive. That much I can promise."

Cottonpaw said nothing.

"...Is there something else bothering you?"

"...What about Fake Twolegs?"

Redstar shook her head. "We don't know enough about them to say. They're far more dangerous than Fake Cats are. We don't go near them." Redstar paused. "...I know you and Deerpaw encountered one last greenleaf."

"Yeah…I guess I just…" Cottonpaw stared at the floor before taking a deep breath. "I dunno. It feels weird to say, but…I hope they're dead too."

"I imagine they would be. Woodcrawlers hunt and eat. It'd be like if we kept mice alive in camp for whatever reason - tedious and disruptive."

This drew a short laugh out of Cottonpaw. "Aw, are we sure we don't want mice eating our jerky?"

"No, we do not," Redstar meowed. A smirk broke on her face, despite herself. But after some time, discomfort nestled in Redstar's chest. A thought occurred to her, and it refused to stay bottled. Reluctantly, she meowed, "Is there a reason why you doubt their deaths?"

Cottonpaw fell silent, her hazel eyes distant. She didn't stop moving, letting the silence hang uncomfortably with every step they took. For a moment, Redstar thought that Cottonpaw was going to pretend she didn't hear her. Unfortunately for Redstar, Cottonpaw had an answer.

"...It chased us, you know. The Fake Twoleg."

Redstar bristled. "You never said it chased you."

"I know. I'm sorry about that." Cottonpaw sounded genuinely remorseful, forcing Redstar to flatten her fur. "At the time, I told myself I didn't want to be in even more trouble than I already was. But…I think I was just scared to acknowledge it. I think Deerpaw was too." Cottonpaw looked up at Deerpaw and Barleywave up ahead, watching them converse like a pair of songbirds. "I didn't want to make anyone overthink things. Especially if we're sure that we're okay, you know?"

There was a long pause. The leafbare breeze picked up. The sun barely gasped through the surface of the grey sky. "It's just...the Fake Twoleg had eyes, still. That's why I was worried."

---

"I bet you're glad you get to spend at least a little time away from your sister now, eh?" Cloudthunder said with a half-laugh.

Daffodilpaw tore her admiring gaze away from the color-changing leaves above them. She tilted her head at her mentor.

"I mean…I like spending time with you, and exploring, but…I wouldn't be mad if Owlpaw was here or anything." The apprentice's thoughts came out choppy.

Cloudthunder's tail flicked. "Doesn't she bully you? I saw how she treated you as a kit sometimes," she meowed.

Daffodilpaw sheepishly pawed at the leaf litter, looking away. "I mean…maybe? I dunno. I wouldn't call it bullying." The golden molly sat down, and Cloudthunder echoed the gesture attentively. Thoughts seemed to roil in Daffodilpaw's head, looking to be picked out like mats in fur. "I mean, she's rude sometimes. But she's not all bad. She can be nice. I think she just...doesn't know she's being mean sometimes."

Cloudthunder's ear twitched. Curious. She never had littermates, so she wasn't really sure how the bond between them worked. She gained some insight when she had her own kits, but they were never as hostile to other cats as Owlpaw was. She did find it strange that as the moons went by, Daffodilpaw went from being upset about Owlpaw's behavior to more…accepting, if she could even call it that.

"Well, even so, it's bad for ForestClan's unity to have resentment between clanmates, especially in these woods," Cloudthunder meowed as she stood back to her feet. "I hope that her training helps her feel less angry at others."

"Me too," Daffodilpaw said with a glint in her eyes.

And honestly? That was good. That was all there was to it. Cloudthunder was glad her apprentice was keeping a positive attitude and wasn't letting the words of others get under her skin. It was more than she could ever ask for. And for the next few days, Cloudthunder settled into a routine she enjoyed - she woke up early, helped make breakfast if needed, greeted her children and asked them if they slept well (Cottonpaw and Airpaw slept like logs, Deerpaw was a bit more restless), then recruited her apprentice to teach her how to do her chores and bring her on patrols, teaching her the lay of the land, hunting and battle.

Which is why, one evening, as the sun was setting, she knew something was wrong.

Daffodilpaw was tense since the morning. Her jaw was tight. She barely spoke. Her eyes were focused, but unreadable. She deflected when asked if anything was wrong. She insisted she was okay, just tired.

When the sun had set and the evening buzz around the Clan settled, with cats sharing tongues and cleaning up the last of their meal, it was clear something was wrong with Daffodilpaw. Cloudthunder glanced around camp to look for her, only to see her back as the young cat was staring at the camp walls.

Cloudthunder's ear twitched.

For a brief moment, an echo of pain rippled under her skin. A drifting memory of seeing her mother sitting at the top of the camp walls and weeping into the night.

Cloudthunder stepped away from the dying fire and approached her apprentice. Daffodilpaw was trembling.

"...Daffodilpaw? Is everything alright?" The warrior padded slowly around until she sat beside her.

Daffodilpaw was wide-eyed with terror. Cloudthunder failed to stop her neck fur from rising.

"Daffodil."

The apprentice's eyes were the same color as her mother's. And reflected the same look that Riversnow had the day she gave birth to them. Dread. Hopelessness.

Cloudthunder swallowed. "...It's going to be okay." She failed to hide her wavering. "But you have to say something."

Immediately, Daffodilpaw burst into tears, crouching on the floor and burying her tail between her legs. She blubbered a response. "It's my fault, it's my fault, I couldn't - I couldn't stop her, I couldn't - "

Daffodilpaw's high-pitched whines grabbed the attention of other cats, who whipped their heads in their direction.

"Shh, no, no it's not," Cloudthunder reassured with desperation. "Daffodilpaw, what happened?"

"I-It's Owlpaw," Daffodilpaw sobbed. "O-Owlpaw n-never wanted to be mean! She never wanted to b-be, b-but she felt - she - she didn't believe me, I tried to tell her that the monsters are real, b-but - "

More cats now stirred and started padding over with wide eyes and bristling pelts, and Cloudthunder felt like they were being cornered by a pack of dogs. She hissed instinctively, to the dismay of Riversnow, who hissed in return and was held back by Barleywave. The two mollies stared at each other in bewilderment from each other's reactions.

Daffodilpaw covered her eyes with her paws. "O-Owlpaw s-said that she never saw a Deep Root entity before in her entire life, a-and she said that we were all lying to her! T-The kits from outside were probably just abandoned, a-and Shiverstep and Brackenfreckle wanted to scare us and prove the adults' stories true, a-and Warblerkit probably wasn't real, a-and - "

Cloudthunder's heart was set on fire and her ears pumped with blood. Oh no. No.

It was dark. The horror she had when Cottonpaw and Deerpaw had vanished in the middle of the night returned to her.

No. StarClan, please, no.

"Daffodilpaw," Redstar stepped out of the crowd, tall and imposing, her voice cutting through the apprentice's rant. Her blue eyes were set ablaze. "What happened?"

Daffodilpaw looked up at Redstar, her ears flattening. "Owlpaw said s-she was going to prove herself to everyone, she was going to prove to me that the monsters aren't real by going out of camp at night the next day, and that I shouldn't tell anyone, but I - "

Cloudthunder felt the noise of camp blur around her. Instinctively, she dashed to the apprentice's den and looked inside, desperate to see pale ginger fur sulking in a lump within.

Owlpaw's nest was empty.

---

Owlpaw patrols angrily around the territory, bitter about the horrible stories of "the woods eating them" and monsters lurking. ForestClan were liars and cruel adults, telling horrible stories to keep kits in camp and scare apprentices. In another time, Owlpaw would be doing an apprentice trial right now.

(Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 6 moons. Adventurous.)

---

Owlpaw hissed as she slashed her claws across a tree in passing. She felt the bark splinter off and fling into the overgrowth. Good. All of it was bulrush fluff anyway.

"Are you gonna come out of a burrow? Or drop from a tree? Huh?" Owlpaw snarled to the wind. Her tail thrashed as she walked down the tread path.

ForestClan were liars. All of them. Each and every single one of them, her mom and apparent dad included. The only one who probably wasn't, was her sister, who was just scared and blindly trusting. Maybe the three dark-furred kits were in the same boat. But the rest of them were mangy and foxhearted.

Owlpaw was going to defy them. Prove them wrong. There were no monsters in the stupid woods. She was six moons old, and had never seen a single monster in her entire life.

At first, she thought it was just stories to get them to behave. But then they went further than that. Redstar went into detail of what the monsters are like. What leaders did in the past to apprentices, throwing them to the woods. Oh, and she should feel so grateful that she lived now, and not back then. And they were serious about it.

She remembered when she was small, and naive, and genuinely believed this. Why wouldn't she? She trusted the adults around her to be honest. But she noticed it always came with…with stupid caveats. Well, if the woods are so dangerous, why are adults allowed out? If they're so dangerous, why does Redstar go out every night? Why did Windfur and Shiverstep leave at dusk every half-moon to go StarClan-knows-where? If the woods ate cats, why did they still live here? That last one always upset the adults, but she was right and it wasn't a mousebrained question! If there WERE actual dangers out here, why stay here? Why not leave? The fact that they meandered about 'culture' and 'preserving the memory of the lost Clans' pissed her off, and she hated it.

Owlpaw kicked up the leaf litter as she smelled the air around her. She smelled mud, and heard crickets.

It was…innocent. Natural.

Sadness mixed with the anger in her chest. She scowled at a nearby birch tree that had almost lost all of its leaves to the weather. She let out a snort.

"You're not a tree-thing that's going to eat me, are you?" Owlpaw approached it, nicking at the tree's paper-like bark with her claws. Her grey eyes flickered. "Do you have friends that are gonna eat me? Or maybe a big black plant that's going to melt my flesh?"

Silence.

"Nah. Of course not. You're just a birch tree." Owlpaw peeled a strip of the birch's bark, hearing the paper-like tear and watching as the thin bark curled on itself.

It was weak skin.

Owlpaw tossed aside the bark and padded into the undergrowth, towards the border that Morningspot showed her. Her mentor was annoying, but at least she made sure Owlpaw knew her way around.

Bulrush fluff…all bulrush fluff.

The thing that killed all doubt, was that Cottonpaw and Deerpaw went on a night patrol, and they came back home just fine. Oh sure, they said they were chased by some Fake Twoleg. But she bet that Twolegs weren't actually real either. She'd never seen one, and was never shown any proof of them existing, so why should she believe anything they say at this point? Cottonpaw and Deerpaw were taken aside by adults first anyway, so for all she knows, they were brought in on the truth and told them to lie.

That had to be the only rational explanation. Because if she lived in a world that evil…

Well, she didn't see a point in living in it.

"Well? Are you going to try and kill me? Yeah right, you aren't even real," she called out. Nothing replied, except for the bugs. She rolled her eyes and flicked her tail, trudging fearlessly through the undergrowth.

Owlpaw cringed as she picked up the weird, tangy smell that came from their border. Morningspot explained that Twoleg metal beasts came down it - what fun, another monster to the list - but that they were rare and didn't leave the path.

For a moment, she stared up and down the long, grey path that stretched out into the hilly trails. Her eyes narrowed. It was a very weird thing, in comparison to everything else. Probably the only real evidence of "monsters" she was ever shown. But of course, no actual showing of one.

Owlpaw hated the smell, so she went back into the undergrowth.

She wandered for a few minutes, letting the anger seep through her bones.

A Woodcrawler would've definitely killed her by now if they were real. She was practically free food.

"Hellooooo? Any Woodcrawlers? Fake Cats? I'm tooootally vulnerable, and all alone! Come get me, stupid foxdungs," she snarled.

Of course, nothing. As expected.

Why did they lie to her? What was the point? She was never going to be a kit forever. Why control them all like this? Why scare her and Daffodilkit like this? Surely, not all cats would agree to lying like that…right?

Owlpaw remembered when Morningspot took her out of camp for the first time. Brought her to a place close to the border. A place where the forest ended, and from an overlook, it turned into a flat, open field that stretched down into more woodland.

"We don't hunt in the plains. If you get here, turn back."

"Why?"

"Um…well, it's the end of the territory, so of course you'd turn back," Morningspot mumbled.

"No, mousebrain, why don't we hunt in the plains?" Owlpaw retorted.

Morningspot flinched. The older cat hesitated for a moment, before she mumbled, "There's…a lot of Woodcrawler dens down there. More than there are in the forest. I think it has to do with the Twoleg Greenleaf place next to it," Morningspot gestured to the blocky, triangular nests across the grey road.

"How do you know?"

Morningspot looked at her quizzically. Owlpaw's eyes narrowed, and she repeated her question.

"How do you know?"

Morningspot blinked, then stared at her feet. "...Cats have died hunting in there."

"You've seen, or you've heard?"

Owlpaw wanted to claw her mentor's face off when Morningspot just stared at the apprentice and repeated again that cats died in there, and that Owlpaw would be hurt - or worse - if she tried. Owlpaw only resisted because Morningspot gave her the most pathetic-looking stare she'd ever seen in a cat, as she practically begged her not to run into the field. Owlpaw could cross the road, go to the lake, climb a tree, do literally anything else, but she begged her to not step into the field.

Owlpaw failed to suppress a snarl as she remembered the path they took. To foxdung with this. The field didn't have dens. She'd prove it. Her tail thrashed as she pushed aside ferns and scrambled over fallen logs and branches, muttering angrily to herself.

"The adults can't lie to me anymore, you know!" she yowled. Owlpaw hissed as she ducked underneath a fallen branch and started to approach the small hill that would overlook the field. "I know the....the...."

Owlpaw stopped.

She trailed off as her eyes cast through the treeline, revealing strips of the sky on the horizon.

In between the gaps, far where the field should be; bright, shining lights hovered listlessly. She thought they were stars, at first. But then they swayed, ever so slightly, like the flickering of fire. And they were big.

…Did…they ever mention lights before…?

A flicker of hesitation shot through her chest. Maybe? She…only really remembered the ones that gave her nightmares. Woodcrawlers, Nature's Mockery, Fake Cats, Living Tendrils…she stopped paying attention to lessons after a certain point, believing it was all just lies to scare them.

Daffodilpaw would know. Daffodilpaw paid attention to everything. Sometimes she resented her for it. But for a brief second, she wished that she was here with her.

But of course Daffodilpaw didn't want to come. She was too scared. Believed whatever everyone said.

The lights didn't move. They continued to gleam in the dark of the night.

Why does she feel like they're...looking at her?

Owlpaw took a single step back.

A trickle of fear.

"They're just lights." She said this, trying to convince herself. If…monsters did exist, this probably wasn't one of them. These were just stupid lights. They weren't even doing…anything…

The lights shined…

What was…

Owlpaw fled.

----

A patrol is immediately made to search for Owlpaw.

(Riversnow, warrior, female, 68 moons. Adventurous.) (Hopechase, warrior, female, 101 moons. Playful.) (Riftgorse, warrior, male, 17 moons. Charismatic.) (Tree, warrior, non-binary, 50 moons. Adventurous.)

---

Owlpaw had been gone for thirty minutes, as per Daffodilpaw. That wasn't very long. There was still a chance.

ForestClan made a desperate patrol to search for Owlpaw. Redstar knew they were on a time limit. The night was dangerous. Should she risk her clanmate's lives to try and save just one cat? Her clanmates decided for her. Riversnow insisted she had to go, and no one would deny her. In a rush, Hopechase, Tree, Riversnow and Riftgorse started tracking Owlpaw's scent.

Luckily, Owlpaw's presence was not difficult to trace - her scent practically radiated on the trail.

"She must've been thrashing her tail a lot," Riftgorse commented. The patrol was tense - safe for Riversnow, who plowed ahead, powered by adrenaline.

"Owlpaw? Owlpaw!" she yowled.

"Careful," Tree suppressed a growl. Riversnow whipped around, bristling.

"Careful of what?" she hissed.

"It won't help Owlpaw if we're detected by giant spiders on the way," Tree stated flatly.

This did not help. Riftgorse winced as Riversnow called again, "OWLPAW! GET BACK HERE NOW! PLEASE!"

Hopechase said nothing, focused on the task. There was a solemnity that loomed over the dark cat's back. She padded quickly along the scent trail, finding that it stopped near a birch tree. She tasted the air and placed her paw on the tree, finding that a strip of its bark was cut.

"She passed through here," Hopechase said as she went through the parted grasses.

"Watch your surroundings," Tree commented. Hopechase felt Tree was saying this more for themselves than for her.

Before any of them could register what was happening, the undergrowth thrashed in the distance. Something was charging through the bushes. Hopechase bristled and -

Owlpaw barreled into Riftgorse, faceplanting to the ground with a terrified screech. Riftgorse screamed as he scrambled back to his feet, Tree hissed and Riversnow exploded.

"OWLPAW! Oh, stars above - "

Owlpaw's grey eyes were filled with otherworldly terror, tears streaming down her face as she could barely blubber anything out of her mouth. 

"T-T-The lights - they're - they're after me, the light - "

Riversnow bristled to the size of a porcupine, her voice filled with pain and relief as she towered over her daughter and snarled. "How dare you! How dare you do this to me, to your sister, you could've died!"

"M-Mom -"

"This is the single stupidest thing you've ever done in your entire life, and you've done a lot of stupid, horrible things!"

Owlpaw trembled, her gaze darting everywhere until she stared up at her mother, tail tucked and shrinking. "T-The lights - "

"Enough!" Riversnow hissed, bending down and scruffing Owlpaw like a kit again, practically dragging her on the floor. Owlpaw's eyes were wide, and this time she pleaded and yowled like a kit.

"Mom, mom, NO! The lights! They're following me!"

"Lights?" Riftgorse chimes in, bristling.

Tree's mind worked quickly, staring out beyond the territory. Their ears swiveled. "Luring Lights. She must've seen the field near the Twolegplace."

"NO! It was a monster, a m-monster with a light on - " Owlpaw barely wrenched herself from Riversnow's grasp before Riversnow snarled in frustration.

"Luring Lights do NOT MOVE, Owlpaw!" Riversnow hissed.

Hopechase paused.

A thought came to her. She froze. All relief, all hope, all feeling washed away from her body. She refused to look at the rest of her clanmates, focused on the treeline.

"Owlpaw. Are you sure you saw a light moving towards you?"

The entire patrol stopped and stared. Hopechase's voice had shifted to a tone they've never heard coming from her. Owlpaw didn't notice, blurting out in desperation.

"YES! T-The light was its face!"

Hopechase's blue eyes widened. The air around them turned cold. Quietly, with the fear and dread of a thousand generations of cats, she whispered, "Gardener."

"...What?" Riftgorse whispered.

Suddenly, from the woods, there was a thud. A crashing of branches. The crickets stopped singing.

Then, a hollow groan broke through the trees, echoing against the pines.

AND FROM THE DARKNESS, THERE WAS LIGHT.

"Gardener. Run. RUN!"

Hopechase screeched, bolting up the trail. The patrol sprinted after her, adrenaline and horror spiking through them. Hopechase howled a warning call far before camp could ever hear them. "GARDENER! GARDENER!"

Light scattered between the shadows of evergreens, illuminating patches of undergrowth like an alien star. The spotlight shifted rapidly, threatening to cast itself on the cats sprinting below. A frayed, electric noise pulsed from its head. Leaves were crushed beneath branch-like feet as it trampled down the path like a Twoleg monster.

"GARDENER! HIDE, HIDE, HIDE! NOW!" Hopechase's voice screeched like claws on metal. "GARDENER!"

Owlpaw hyperventilated as she charged forward. Riftgorse, Tree and Riversnow were bristling from head to toe. The camp walls came in the distance.

"GARDENER! GARDENER! NO TIME, NO TIME!"

Hopechase found a reserve of energy and dashed far forward ahead of everyone. The Clan must've heard the senior warrior's screaming, as everyone had already herded themselves into Redstar's den; Perchwatcher, Brakenfreckle and Olive all carried one of the three kits, and Shiverstep's shape slunk by Windfur's side. Redstar and Cloudthunder were straggling behind, preparing to close the gate once the patrol came in.

"FORGET THE GATE! GO!" Hopechase screamed as she barreled through.

Hopechase had suddenly become ForestClan's leader; Redstar and Cloudthunder scrambled down and headed to the den. Redstar had never heard Hopechase this frightened. "Hopechase, what - "

Hopechase pulled something that hid beside the High Rock - a plank of bound twigs that made a large, square door.

"Go, go!" she yowled as she shoved Redstar.

Owlpaw, Riversnow, Tree and Riftgorse dived through the gate and up to the den.

The second Redstar and Cloudthunder entered, Hopechase sealed the entrance with the plank. It barely covered it in its entirety. The plank's age showed; scattered with cracks and insect-forged holes.

"Hopechase?" Redstar started.

Owlpaw whined. Daffodilpaw wailed with relief at her sister's presence.

"What's going on?" Blackkit squealed from behind Brackenfreckle, panting with fear.

"Quiet." Hopechase hissed, abruptly silencing every cat huddled within. The whole Clan's eyes landed on the senior warrior, and watched as her claws sank into the floor, her eyes filled with dread. Redstar stared at her friend intensely.

"Hope…"

"Be quiet. Do not move." Her voice trembled. "No matter what happens, do not leave this den."

Owlpaw and Daffodilpaw buried themselves into each other's pelts with eyes squeezed shut. Owlpaw pressed her paws down on her muzzle, trying to silence her rapid breathing. Riversnow stood over her children protectively, glaring at the shoddy plank door. Barleywave padded in front, placing himself between the door and his family. His hazel eyes were glazed with distant terror.

Another thundering step.

Nectarkit squeaked. Shadekit swatted at her, and she flattened and covered her mouth.

A loud, reverberating groan.

Iciclepool pressed against Shiverstep, copper eyes glaring. Shiverstep's gaze fell on Tree, as though they held answers.

Redstar's pelt bristled as she heard part of the camp wall collapsing. The groan transformed into a high-pitched, electric whine. Yellow light leaked through the plank's cracks in scattered rays.

ForestClan recoiled further into the den. The kits made suppressed cries. No one tried to silence them.

The Gardener's light did not move. Redstar stared at it. Waiting. Bracing.

A low hum came from it. It tore its gaze from the leader's den, scanning its surroundings. A fragile hope rippled through the cats huddling in the dark. If it didn't see them, if it didn't know they were here…

Redstar heard stomping like a moose' hooves around the campsite. The shadows of spider-like legs were cast on the door as it caught the Gardener's light.

Redstar didn't know how long she and her Clan hid. Fear-scents exploded whenever the light glanced over their bunker's door. Every few minutes, it seemed like the Gardener stepped on another part of their camp. Destroyed another den.

Redstar felt her claws sink into the ground. She fought the rage building in her bones, soaking through her skin. This thing was defiling their home.

She heard stories. She had never seen a Gardener in her life. She was afraid and vengeful. She wanted to do something.

Maybe…maybe she could distract it. She could dash out, make it chase her out of camp. The idea lit a fire in her heart. Yes. Yes, that was a good plan. She could dash quickly, cause noise, leap over the camp walls, and pull its attention away…

She turned her head to Iciclepool and Hopechase.

Iciclepool saw the look in her eyes. She shook her head quickly and mouthed 'no', pleading. Redstar felt the corners of her mouth curl to a silent snarl.

The two bristled as Hopechase planted unsheathed claws on Redstar's shoulder. She vehemently, slowly, shook her head, her eyes reflecting a will that rivalled StarClan's endless sky. Redstar tried to pull away. Hopechase only dug them deeper, and for a split second, the ForestClan leader saw a quiet, unforgiving anger in the molly's eyes.

Redstar briefly remembered the cat that agreed to assassinate Lakestar. And reluctantly, she sheathed her claws and flattened her fur.

Time marched at a turtle's pace. Perhaps purposefully. The Gardener was pacing around them. Finally, the sound of massive steps marched past the leader's den - above and over the camp walls behind them. Darkness reclaimed the night.

And yet, Hopechase whispered, "It's not gone. Quiet."

They obeyed.

The tension was thick. Cats that usually argued, huddled closer. No one took their eyes off the plank.

Finally, after a time that felt like eons, Shiverstep trembled.

She felt dazed. Weak. Her greencough made it difficult for her to focus. She could feel it again. A force, piercing the back of her head forcefully, without want, without care. She tried to resist it - but it was too fast, and overwhelmed her. Her skin crawled like insects and she felt her eyes locked on the flimsy door. Her mouth opened. She whispered gently, coldly, like a taken life.

A long pause. A few cats turned to stare at Shiverstep.

Knock, knock, knock.

Heads whipped to the entrance, mouths agape in silent screams.

Knock….knock.

It moved higher above, on the hollow stump itself. The tapping had no rhythm. It was like a kit batting at a dead mouse to see if it would move again.

Knock, knocknocknocknocknock.

Sound wrapped itself at all sides. ForestClan pulled themselves off from the walls, the kits suppressed their mews, merging in the center. Redstar stared at the ceiling above as dirt loosened -

Knock. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK -

"Adam Levitch. Answered the door. Barry Johnson. Answered the door. Truman Michaels. Answered the door," Shiverstep rattled irrationally.

"Do not leave the den. Do not leave the den," Hopechase hissed under gritted teeth, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

"Bethany Newman. Alec Davidson. Dorothy Bates. Vessels. It asked to enter."

A loud shift from above -

"Do not answer the knocking at the door."

CRACK!

An otherworldly cry emitted from over the den. Legs thrashed on the camp ground and the spotlight waved around frantically. The monstrous thing screeched before the sound of its steps grew further and further away, until the flicker of light dimmed and vanished altogether.

The darkness of the night blanketed upon them once more.

The stunned silence eventually broke with the song of a whip-poor-will, and the return of gentle crickets. Hopechase seemed surprised, which did not comfort Redstar.

"Hopechase?"

"...I...I think it's gone."

A collective breath was released. The kits began wailing. Cats collapsed on their bellies, panting. Shiverstep was...

Oh StarClan, was she unconscious?

"Windfur?" Iciclepool called nervously, her paws already feeling around her daughter's ears. Windfur bristled, wordlessly checking her pulse.

"Alive," he meowed.

Redstar suppressed a growl. She had to make sure. She had to...Redstar swallowed, then slowly placed a trembling paw on the makeshift door.

Hold it together. Breathe.

Redstar inhaled through her nose. Then pushed it a crack and stared outside. She glanced around camp and felt her heart sinking deeply into her chest. From the darkness, she could make out the gaps in the camp walls, and the indents in the warriors' den. She swallowed, suddenly understanding why Hopechase screamed at them not to bother with the gate.

She had heard of Gardeners before. But Redstar lived on this earth for almost seven years now, and had never seen one. She believed her elders when they told stories about them. They lived surrounded by Fake Beings and Infected Predators, and balls of light hovering over open Woodcrawler dens. Reports of a towering Woodcrawler with a light for a face was not farfetched in the slightest. But it had been so long since one was last seen that she...

Redstar swallowed as she realized that the procedure to deal with them had fallen away in the chaos. She knew the lockdown procedure. The Clan knew it. But in the panic of it all, it escaped her grasp. Knowledge that was fleeting beyond theory and rote memorization. That weakness - fear that overwhelmed her reason...

Redstar pushed open the door.

Slowly, cats tiptoed to stare out at the camp. Moans of pain and meows of worry rippled as they surveyed the damage around them - west wall collapsed, warrior's den caved in, gate pulleys ripped apart on one side. There were multiple holes scattered across camp, undoubtedly the Gardener's pointed appendages having left them behind. It wasn't completely clear what the full extent of the damage was, but a fire and some torches would need to be lit to see what was wrong.

Hopechase stared at the rest of the camp walls, collecting her thoughts. "...It's in better shape than I expected."

"Hey, Redstar?"

Redstar turned to the voice that called her, and was surprised to see Tree sitting close to where the previous cooking fire was stationed. Redstar winced as she saw their drying rack had been destroyed, but something told her that Tree wasn't addressing her about it. She cautiously approached the cat.

"I think I found what chased it off," Tree meowed.

Redstar's tail twitched, remembering the noise that seemed to frighten the Gardener. "...What is it?"

Tree stepped aside, gesturing with their tail the remains of their cooking fire.

...The fire. They were so alarmed they forgot to extinguish the cinders.

Something akin to a sharp stone was embedded into the middle of it. Redstar brought her muzzle as close as she dared. Her nose wrinkled. She recoiled. Ears twitching, she asked, "What is that?"

The remains of stringy, red roots wilted around the hot cinders. They smelled like acid and rotten flesh. Chunks of flimsy, bark-like skin were charring around it. Tree met Redstar's gaze solemnly.

"I don't know for sure. But if that...thing, whatever it was, was related to Woodcrawlers..." Tree pointed a claw at the faint tooth-like shape of the indented object. "...Then this might be its foot. It stopped paying attention to where it was stepping when it..." Tree swallowed, opting not to finish. They put their paw down, eyes narrowed. "...Luck. Sheer, complete luck that this was still here. And that there was enough heat in those cinders to ignite its tendons."

For the first time in a long, long time, Redstar felt numb.

How fragile they really, truly were.

As the sounds of crying kits and distressed clanmates echoed all around her in the middle of the night, as she replayed the memory of the Gardener tapping at her den as though it could chase them out, she realized that she couldn't keep pretending to the kits that Deep Root entities were just dangerous animals. Her ears folded back. She closed her eyes.

Tonight, she needed to make sure her clanmates slept. Or at least tried to. Any kind of discipline or conversation would be lost on the stress of the evening. Shiverstep especially needed to be looked over - her behavior tonight was...abnormal. But that was a conversation for when she was conscious.

Tomorrow, ForestClan would talk. And rebuild.

---

1 gif was made using a clip from Remy Abode’s “Gemini Home Entertainment”, episode titled “CAMP INFORMATIONAL VIDEO”. SOURCE: (X)

Cottonpaw and Perchwatcher do their best to include Owlpaw. Owlpaw wants to just hide, but Morningspot said something dumb about effort, or trying, or whatever...

(Cottonpaw, apprentice, female, 10 moons. Bold.) (Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)

Cats in camp are taken aback when they see Owlpaw yelling at Perchwatcher before storming off. Perchwatcher seems stunned and Cottonpaw looks wary.

(Cottonpaw, apprentice, female, 10 moons. Bold.) (Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)

Morningspot scrambles to apologize to Perchwatcher for Owlpaw's beahvior. Perchwatcher is too embarassed to care.

(Morningspot, warrior, female, 22 moons. Nervous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)

Owlpaw is shocked when Morningspot isn't mad with her. Morningspot does, however, ask that she walk away entirely and tell her instead next time it happens. She also asks that she say sorry to Perchwatcher for yelling, when she's feeling less angry.

(Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Morningspot, warrior, female, 22 moons. Nervous.)

Riftgorse, Branchsnarl and Perchwatcher go on a hunting patrol together. The two toms comfort Perchwatcher for what happened in camp...but they do put something tactfully that Perchwatcher needed to hear.

(Riftgorse, warrior, male, 18 moons. Charismatic.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.) (Branchsnarl, warrior, trans male, 15 moons. Ambitious.)

Shadekit tried to come up with a plan to sneak out of camp with Blackkit. It's interrupted by Hopechase. Blackkit is secretly relieved.

(Hopechase, warrior, female, 102 moons. Playful.) (Blackkit, kitten, female, 5 moons. Shy.) (Shadekit, kitten, male, 5 moons. Unruly.)

By the end of the moon, Iciclepool goes into labour. The woods are successfully warded off, but...

(Iciclepool, deputy, female, 76 moons. Ambitious.) (Shiverstep, cleric, female, 20 moons. Loving.) (Windfur, cleric, male, 34 moons. Lonesome.)

----

It worked. They succeeded. They rebuilt their wall, prepared their torches, and circled the den. The tendrils ducked and weaved like stubborn scavengers desperate to pull meat from a mountain lion's catch, but the flames challenged their resolve. Still, they were desperate. Hungering.

Deerpaw and Riftgorse were bruised by the Living Tendrils swiping at their feet and wrapping around their legs. Morningspot and Cloudthunder had the torches knocked from their grasps, and both mollies resorted to biting into them and pulling away with all their strength. Airpaw drove a torch through the one his mother had grasped. Daffodilpaw joined her sister as she witnessed her stabbing the torches at the holes the tendrils emerged from, both cats trembling with adrenaline.

Two tendrils weaved through into the den. Before any cat could act, a wrathful caterwaul emerged from the nursery. There was thrashing and contorting, until one of the tendrils retreated like a terrified dog. The other let out an alien screech as it was pulled taut. It writhed and writhed, until the black, vengeful shadow that was Hopechase was practically dragged to the entrance. She dove her claws into it one last time, her single white paw painting itself black with their blood. Only when it hissed and pulled back with more ferocity did she finally let go.

It took a few more minutes for all the stragglers to finally determine their prey would not die easily, cutting their losses and retreating into the woods. Cats yowled with triumph.

By all accounts, they won. They succeeded.

So why, as they gathered around a small funeral pyre, did this still feel like a failure?

*******

Iciclepool had a bad feeling. Perhaps it was that gut feeling, that deeply-seeded fear that caused her to hesitate in stopping her duties and telling the clan about her pregnancy. It was so unlike her. When she was younger, she failed to stifle her joy at her past pregnancies. Cats gently warned her to lower her expectations - to no avail. Every single one of her kits were so loved and wanted. When Cliffstep was still by her side - oh, stars, she wished he was still here - she purred and spoke gently to them as she felt her kits shifting and kicking on occasion. She could count the sets of feet after a time, and know how many she would have. And Cliffstep was so loving, so attentive - curling around her and his future family with warmth and care.

None of them ever survived past six moons.

Shiverstep was all of her hope, all of her love she could never give to her children. She cherished every second the little kit curled by her side at night and padded after her in camp. She cried with relief as it hit her that finally, finally, nothing would take away her baby. Redstar wouldn't send her on a cruel trial. No tendrils would come. She could watch her child grow, and become such a beautiful molly. And oh, she did. Shiverstep was such a kind, beautiful, wonderful soul. Was it so wrong for her to have hope? To see another kit of hers grow up again?

She should've listened to Hopechase. Oh, stars, why didn't she listen? Hopechase voiced her concerns when Iciclepool told her what she felt. The look in her eyes made her feel so ashamed. She didn't want to tell the medicine cats. She didn't want them to confirm her worst fears. Hadn't she suffered enough? Was she wrong to hope and pray they would all survive this time?

Three. In the time she carried her babies, she felt at least three kick. But in total, in nights where she would press her paw around her stomach, thinking of names, she felt the round bundles curled against her. Four. One never stirred.

Hopechase and Shiverstep had been her only solace in the past few days.

"Everything will be alright, love. StarClan is watching over you. Cliffstep. Rapidpaw. Valleypaw. Your sister, and all of our lost friends and family. They want us to succeed. I know they must." Hopechase had looked at her with those bright blue eyes, with an intensity that mirrored a cloudless sky. "And I will defend our family with everything I have."

Separately, Shiverstep spoke with determined intensity. Bags formed under her eyes, but a glint of hope shone within them. "I promise, mom. I promise that nothing will happen to you. To them. I have help. From…from StarClan. Clanmates." It sounded like Shiverstep stopped her list short, a name on her tongue that she refused to speak. "We're going to be okay. If something bad happens, I'll find a way."

Only Windfur seemed to pierce through her soul, returning the dread Iciclepool felt.

"...I…I don't want to fail you," Windfur meowed, his voice tight. The implication weighed heavily on their shoulders.

"...It won't be your fault. Please…please don't blame yourself if it happens." Iciclepool's voice cracked. She felt like a wounded doe, desperate to hide her injury. She inhaled, froze her pain beneath a sheet of ice in her body, and straightened. "I've lost kits before. This is nothing new to me. I will survive."

"...I don't want you to have to."

"But I will."

And she did.

As she heard the yowling, burning and thrashing outside, as she felt her mate looming over the nursery entrance, as she met her contractions with familiarity and listened to Windfur and Shiverstep's guidance, she prepared. She heard Windfur call for Brackenfreckle to be on standby. The distant sounds of roots tearing through the earth and cats hissing echoed.

The first cried out. A grey molly.

The second did not. A brown molly. The noise outside accompanied her dread. Shiverstep was removing the liquid, drying the fur, her blue eyes intense as she rubbed it between her paws.

In the tension, she was forced to deliver the third. Windfur quickly removed debris near its face, and it screeched in protest. Iciclepool released a laugh of dismay. A black tom.

Shiverstep still worked. She gritted her teeth as her rubbing intensified.

"Shiver," Windfur began sharply.

"I'm fine," Shiverstep retorted, failing to hide her fear. She pried open its mouth to search for debris. "Come on. Come on. Please."

Iciclepool's heart was rotting. Burning. Falling off its tendons.

She barely registered her beloved mate screeching and throwing herself at tendrils that dared to approach.

Iciclepool bit down as a final wave of pain came to her. She whimpered. Windfur refocused his attention and quickly helped deliver the last. It let out a continuous set of mews, refusing to quiet until it felt its mother. A brown tom.

Windfur pressed around rapidly. "That's…that's it."

Iciclepool nodded. She curled around her newborn kits. She stared as she watched Shiverstep - her eldest kit - still trying to stifle life back into the newborn. The world around her spun and blurred. Cats yowled in triumph. Iciclepool saw her mate pad up to her with a shine in her eyes, only for them to dim as she saw Shiverstep trying to resuscitate a newborn. Windfur didn't step in to stop her. He just stared with an unreadable expression.

Time passed cruelly. Shiverstep's ears folded further back. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her breath quickened. She started mouthing something inaudibly.

Brackenfreckle entered boldly, looking at Iciclepool and her three healthy kits. Her expression fell as she looked at Shiverstep.

"...Is it…?" she started. She wisely decided not to finish her thought.

Shiverstep choked back a sob. She breathed air through its nose. She began small, rhythmic compressions on its ribs. Her mouthing became desperate whispers.

"Please. I call to you. I call to you. Please. Please."

"Shiverstep," Iciclepool whimpered, unable to bear her daughter's despair.

"Please," she repeated. She blew air into the kit's nose again, turning it over and rubbing its back rigorously. Her lips curled back and her teeth gritted. "Help. Help. I need…" She choked back a sob as her fleeting hope turned to despair. "What do I do?" she mouthed. She broke and pressed her head against the newborn kitten.

Iciclepool couldn't bear it. She stumbled to her weakened feet, despite Brackenfreckle's brief protest and her kits' whining. Shiverstep looked away as her mother approached her, and reluctantly fell apart as Iciclepool sadly dug her teeth into the cleric's scruff, pulling her towards the nest like one of her newborns. The young cleric sobbed, and Windfur reluctantly took the newborn away from Shiverstep. The marbled molly forced herself to her feet, following Iciclepool back to her nest - lest she were dragged.

Windfur's dark blue eyes were unreadable as he stared at the newborn. He started doing light compressions with his paw.

Iciclepool allowed her remaining kits to suckle, and she forced herself to purr with comfort as Shiverstep buried her head into her shoulder.

Her heart still withered.

Eventually, cats peered in, asking questions. Brackenfreckle uneasily tried to shoo them away. Redstar herself was getting agitated at being denied entry.

"Redstar, just…give us a moment. Please," Hopechase called back. The emptiness in her tone must've silenced the leader.

Iciclepool watched Windfur continue trying to revive her stillborn kit. His expression was like stone, but she knew that desperation roiled within him. She glanced at her mate. Hopechase held her breath. Refused to look at her. Shiverstep trembled, repeating strained and near-silent, "I call, I call, please, please answer," muffled against her mother's shoulder.

Iciclepool's copper eyes stilled. She bit back a wail as the memory of her past flashed before her. Every kit stolen by a tendril. Every apprentice trial Lakestar commanded on her children. Every baby she never got to see grow.

StarClan...Please...please let this be the very last one. No more. My heart can't do it again. I just can't.

Softly, she whispered, "Hopechase...let her go, love."

Hopechase objected meekly. "No."

"Hope."

"I can't." Hopechase stared at the stillborn kit in desperation.

"Honey. It's okay." She strained to place her paw on her mate's. It felt wet like mud. "Let her go."

After a time that felt like a thousand seasons, Hopechase's ears flattened, she closed her eyes, and dipped her head. Her voice trembled.

"...Sparrowkit?" The request was earnest and pleading, and Iciclepool failed to swallow the knot in her throat.

"Yes."

Hopechase lifted her head back up. "...It's okay, Windfur. Let her go."

Windfur ignored her, his pupils dilating.

Hopechase slowly rose to her feet, padding up to him with a lowered tail. "Windfur."

Nothing.

"Stop." The warrior placed her paw on his shoulder. Only then did the cleric slow his pace, before finally stopping. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, before gently putting her down.

Hopechase picked up Sparrowkit by the scruff, bringing her over to Iciclepool.

"...I can tell the Clan what happened, if it helps." Brackenfreckle offered. "...I'm sorry for your loss."

Hopechase breathed deeply. "Yes. Thank you."

As Brackenfreckle padded out, and Hopechase curled herself behind her mate, Iciclepool silently groomed her children - Shiverstep included, who still lay defeatedly by her side.

The mother felt conflicted as she stared down at her five children - one gone, one grown, three born. Her sorrow was like purifying rain over a burning forest; emollient. She gave a few, tender licks on Sparrowkit's head, her voice still trembling.

"Look after your sister for me, won't you, Rapidpaw, Valleypaw?" She inhaled sharply. "I love you. So much."

---

After a somber funeral, Hopechase and Iciclepool sleep in the same nest with their new babies, cherishing them and making silent vows to protect them forever. They give them names - Mulberrykit, Ghostkit and Hazelkit.

(Hopechase, warrior, female, 102 moons. Playful.) (Iciclepool, deputy, female, 76 moons. Ambitious.) (Mulberrykit, kitten, female, 0 moons. Quiet.) (Ghostkit, kitten, male, 0 moons. Shy.) (Hazelkit, kitten, male, 0 moons. Charming.) (Sparrowkit, female. StarClan cat.)

---

Redpath's hope crumbled when more joined the elder. Mallowpaw. Sablepaw. Oakbelly. Lichenlight. Sagefur, bringing Cardinalkit with her.

She did not plead for them to stay. She had no right. 

And now, here she was. In the cold of a leafbare afternoon, she had ForestClan in her paws. Broken, cold and afraid, like a baby bird pushed out of the nest, looking at her with fear and acceptance. 

Redpath finally tore her gaze away from the snow, and looked at her Clanmates properly. 

Iciclepool, her friend, her closest ally. Lightfoot, her blue eyes soft with understanding. Ferncreek, standing beside his son, Windpaw; both toms looking tired and wary. Cloudthunder and Barleywave, two young warriors who dared to hope for something greater. And Chicoryglint, her expression unreadable. 

Eight. ForestClan used to have twenty cats. Now, there were eight. She didn't expect that to hurt as much as it did. But the longer she thought about it, the more it stung. She was not trustworthy. Certainly not to Lakestar's loyalists, not to her elders, not to clanmates she watched suffer under Lakestar's rule. She did all of this for them, but in the end, only eight remained. 

She hoped, and prayed, that StarClan still saw them as a Clan. That her friends still saw themselves as a Clan. 

Lightfoot let out a soft purr, breaking the tension among them. "Well, this is wonderful, isn't it?" 

Everyone stared at her with puzzled expressions. 

"I think we'll make a great new ForestClan together. I wouldn't trust anyone else with the task than those who are here," Lightfoot meowed, twitching her whiskers in amusement. 

"Lightfoot, come on, two thirds of us just left," Cloudthunder mumbled. 

"I know. And I know we're disappointed by it." Lightfoot's tail swished. "But this is a new beginning, now, with Clanmates who chose to stay. And that matters." 

Barleywave looked away, hiding ripples of feeling. Redpath couldn't blame him. Falconclaw was his father - and as much as he hated him, he grieved the father he never had. Cloudthunder blinked at Lightfoot tiredly. Iciclepool seemed lost in thought. 

Lightfoot continued calmly. "I think we should take an afternoon to grieve - perhaps make ourselves a meal, no? Barleywave, you always wanted to learn more cooking tasks, didn't you?" 

Barleywave flinched from being called upon, staring wide-eyed at the older molly. "Uh…I mean…yeah, I did, but, you know…" 

Lightfoot tilted her head. 

"Are you sure you want me to set everything on fire?" he joked dryly. 

Cloudthunder exhaled sharply. Her whiskers twitched. "Come on, you aren't that bad." 

Redpath blinked. "It would be fitting to make ourselves a meal, though. A new start?" 

Ferncreek stood up. "I'll start the fire." He padded away before anyone could object, and Barleywave groaned. 

"Oh good, I guess we're doing that now." 

"Ferncreek has decided," Lightfoot teased.

"...Are we holding a Ritual for the Lost?" 

Chicoryglint's voice came quiet and unassuming, but cutting. Pelts bristled on all ends as eyes fell on the old protector of secrets. Chicoryglint kept her composure, licking her paw before adding, "It's not necessary, of course. I do not expect one."

Liar. Redpath knew what kind of cat Chicoryglint was and she could tell the immediate backing down of her true intent. She saw it all the time whenever Lakestar showed a hint of animosity towards one of her questions.

"What do you think, Chicoryglint?" Iciclepool hissed, her ears flattening. 

Chicoryglint faltered. "I - " 

"Actually," Ferncreek interjected, a growl in his throat. He turned towards her. "I want to know why you thought we'd honor a tyrant in the first place." 

Chicoryglint's dark blue eyes shielded her emotions like glass. 

Windpaw bristled and stood up. "W-Wait, she didn't mean it like that. Chicoryglint and I...we're protectors of secrets. The Ritual of the Lost is used to reach StarClan, that's all. It's not about Lakestar." 

"After everything Lakestar's done, why should she get the opportunity to reach StarClan?" Iciclepool hissed. 

Windpaw turned to Redpath. "Redpath, you're the new secret keeper. You get to decide, not us." 

"Windpaw, Redpath just tossed the foxheart to the woods, I don't think she wants to honor her," Barelywave hissed. 

Redpath fought to stop her lips from curling. No, she did not want to have a funeral for the monster she just deposed. 

However, despite everything, Lightfoot's presence and words always surprised her. And nothing surprised her more than this. 

"I think we should." 

Iciclepool whirled towards her. Her eyes widened with hurt. 

"Uh...Lightfoot, do you have bees in your brain?" Cloudthunder asked, looking less angry; more concerned. 

Lightfoot gazed towards Redpath calmly. "Redpath, can I explain?" 

Redpath met her gaze incredulously. Out of all the cats - after seasons of watching Lakestar deteriorate and hurt and kill cats she loved, she did not understand why Lightfoot wanted a funeral. For a moment, she felt betrayed. She remembered every lash, every insult, every scream and hiss and order of execution Lakestar made. She remembered day after day, having to support her cruelty. She remembered every cat's hateful gaze; every spiteful whisper when they thought Redpath couldn't hear them. She hated every moment of it. She only tolerated it with the single-minded ambition of one day wrenching the lives from Lakestar's body and finally, finally, leading a Clan. One where no one would ever have to be afraid ever again.

One of the few cats to keep her sane and remind her that she was not a monster, was Lightfoot. 

Lightfoot's expression was kind, and unchallenging. The older molly blinked slowly. 

Redpath swallowed the knot in her throat. "...Explain yourself." Her command was sharp. Lightfoot bowed, then spoke. 

"I think we should have a funeral, because I believe the actions of a new ForestClan cannot be ones that prioritize vengeance over hope, and growth. Our reasons for killing Lakestar cannot be remembered by lorekeepers as pure vengeance. If that is what we build our Clan on, then we will carry this with us as we rebuild ForestClan. I think we should have a Ritual of the Lost. Not to honor Lakestar, but to remind ourselves what the purpose of her death served. We all had our reasons beyond vengeance to overthrow her. We wanted a better future." Lightfoot's tail flicked. She held her composure as the entire Clan stared at her. "Before Lakestar became leader, I remember how she looked towards Birchstar. She was resentful of his rule. Large parts of the Clan were. They saw him as a coward." She looked out towards her Clanmates. "Do any of you remember the territory-search patrols, a long time ago?" 

Iciclepool's pelt flattened, parsing Lightfoot's question. "Yes, I do. I think…I think I remember many cats being sent out, and…never coming back." 

Cloudthunder's eyes widened. "Wait, really?" 

"Once Birchstar died, Lakestar wanted to find us new territory, far from these woods," Chicoryglint added. Her gaze fixated the floor. "She…she sent out patrols of cats who were willing to make long journeys. But…none of them returned." 

Lightfoot nodded. "It seemed like Lakestar wanted to make ForestClan better at first. But…" Lightfoot's ears folded back. "I don't know. After my uncle Rootgrove died, it was as if she gave up. I can't say I knew Lakestar before her madness began, but I can say one thing for sure," Lightfoot's gaze was sharp. "She was a profoundly angry cat. Her desire to seek new territory was to spite Birchstar, not make things better for ForestClan. Which is why I believe we can't move on without letting that go." 

Redpath tensed. "...I'm sorry, Lightfoot. But I cannot forgive Lakestar." 

Lightfoot recoiled, looking offended. "Forgive? Don't be mousebrained, I'm not forgiving a cat who sent our family and friends to die," she hissed. After a second to cool off, Lightfoot's ears perked back up. "Rather, I want to set a precedent. That we should be built on mercy, and looking forward." 

There was a heavy silence that followed Lightfoot's words. They seemed to reach into everyone's hearts, and stir their sense of hope.

But for some, the hope was rooted in justice, and righteousness. Ferncreek's ears threatened to fold back. His tail twitched, and his eyes narrowed. 

"Mercy to an enemy cannot come at the cost of their victims."

Redpath felt her claws rake the dirt. She agreed with Ferncreek. 

"Mercy to a dead body does not create victims," Lightfoot stated. 

"Lightfoot, I…if we have a funeral, I will have nothing merciful to say," Iciclepool added.

"I know, lovely Icicle." Lightfoot looked at her with softness, and empathy. "And I'm not expecting anyone to." 

Barleywave rolled his eyes. "So, what? We're going to sit around in a circle and go, 'Lakestar, you're a foxheart, but we didn't hate you'? Like, that's a lie." 

Redpath listened closely to Lightfoot's proposal. She absorbed her reasoning. In the turmoil of her pain, she grasped to Lightfoot's words. 

Her desire to seek new territory was to spite Birchstar, not make things better for ForestClan.

She wrapped this thought like a caterpillar weaving a cocoon. She draped it in other thoughts, other stories. Like the stories of other revolutions that happened in ForestClan's history - leaders overthrown, replaced by new ones to change rules, only to fall again. No records of any overthrown leaders buried or marked on the oak tree. Change, built on pain until collapse was inevitable. But it never truly changed, not really. 

The prophecy of the gentle camp, ringed in spears. Of a camp filled with cats of all shapes, sizes, beliefs and cultures. Of mountain lions with heads of hair like sunlight, and stripes like black branches. Kittypets with toys for kits, and stoic lynxes standing guard. Impossible, illogical, irrational peace, after generations of death and murder. 

And outside those walls - spears ringed in starlight, fighting anything that dares to threaten them. 

They did not have weapons inside the camp. They did not teach hatred or fostered vengeance in the camp. There were stories in ForestClan of cats dying to cougars and lynxes before. And yet, they were in the camp too. 

"Uh, Redpath?" 

Redpath blinked, and she realized that her Clan was staring at her. She paused, then shifted uncomfortably. 

"Ah…yes?" 

"What should we do?" Iciclepool asked. 

Redpath stared out in front of her, lost in thought. 

The butterfly was emerging from the cocoon. 

I am seeking a better world for ForestClan. I did not kill Lakestar out of vengeance alone.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She…she was the leader of ForestClan now. She could change things. Make things different. She didn't have to be beholden by tradition, or habit, or the stories of the past. 

She only hoped that her Clan - her friends? - would have the courage to follow her. 

"As the leader of ForestClan, I…I seek to adjust the code we follow."

There was a murmur of confusion and a ripple of apprehension. 

"I wish to add a ritual. A type of funeral. One that I will use for this evening, and only for this evening." She opened her eyes, and felt the eyes of her Clan upon her pelt. "A…A Ritual of…" She hesitated on a name. She remembered both Lightfoot and Ferncreek's words. She sighed, and started again, more firmly. "A Ritual of Mercy. For the victims of Lakestar's reign. For ourselves. The only difference is that we will tell Lakestar what her death served. We did not kill out of vengeance. We had reasons to do what we did. Good reasons. Visions of hope, of a better future. We will cement those reasons, and remember what ForestClan, our new ForestClan, is built upon." 

There was an uneasy silence that lingered around them. Cats gauged each other's reactions, but all seemed as uncertain as the other. 

Barleywave frowned. His ear twitched. "...Am I going to have to say nice things about her?" 

Redpath scowled. "You better not. We're not doing that." 

Cloudthunder rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Dear Lakestar, you died so that I could finally leave camp and there's nothing you can do about it."

Barleywave laughed in response, and a flicker of levity surged through the rest of the cats. Redpath smiled. "Well, yes. Things like that. Appreciation for what we will do in the future, for the sake of a better Clan." 

"Lakestar, you died so that cats could leave camp in the future!" Cloudthunder corrected, yelling at the sky dramatically. 

A mrrow of amusement was echoed between a few cats, and Lightfoot beamed as she got to her feet and shook out her fur. 

"Dear Lakestar, you died so that I would be allowed to teach Barleywave how to cook properly," Lightfoot joked. 

"Lakestar, you died so that I had the right to burn camp down," Barleywave chuckled. 

"No, absolutely not, you're not burning it down," Iciclepool called out, getting to her feet with a smile. 

Redpath watched as her Clan - sans Chicoryglint, who scuttled to the medicine den to find cooking herbs - gathered around the cooking fire and started making one-off declarations of grandeur. They cracked jokes, expressed hopes over what they would learn and do in the future, and started teaching each other how to properly cook.

Redpath's heart thundered. She had to have hope. 

********

It took half an hour of cooking and preparing for the Clan to finally gather around the High Rock. Chunks of roasted mice were served on flat stone plates. Lakestar's favorite food was roasted vole, but they had none, Redpath wasn't going to find one for a tyrant's sake. She allowed them to eat their fill first - it gave her time to think of a better script than the one used for the Ritual of the Lost. She certainly wasn't going to ask StarClan to guide Lakestar's spirit…although, truthfully, she didn't know where she'd be. She didn't know why StarClan gave lives to Lakestar to begin with. She decided to put that thought aside. Lakestar was dead. That was all that mattered.

It felt strange, standing on the High Rock. A place where Lakestar stood to make these rituals, and issue her commands. 

I will turn it into a place of hope, not fear.

As her Clan finished eating, and one by one they turned to look at her, she took a deep breath, and began.

"Spirits of our warrior ancestors, we call upon your love in our time of grief. We partake in this meal, to fill us with warmth, and remind ourselves of what matters to us most. Tonight, StarClan, we do not ask for you to guide a soul. We ask that you witness our mercy, and our promise to make ForestClan a better place to live, for all cats." 

"Hear hear," Lightfoot called. 

Redpath suppressed a small smile, continuing. "For Lakestar's death, we take time to remember our reasons for doing this act. Not out of anger, or rage, but out of hope. We remember." 

Her Clan echoed back. "We remember."

Redpath curled her tail around her paws. She knew already what she wanted to say. "I did not kill Lakestar out of vengeance alone. Although I was fueled in part by it, it is not why I killed her. If there were any other path I could've taken - if she would've accepted exile, or step down, then I would've accepted it. But Lakestar would not permit herself any other way." Her ears flattened. "I was tired. Tired of watching cats refuse to band together to fight Tendrils. I was tired of watching young apprentices be sent to their deaths. I was tired of watching cats suffer and feed the woods. And so," her breath shook, "Lakestar died so I could make a Clan where that didn't happen. With Lakestar's death, I will make a Clan where no cat will ever have to feed the woods again. Where my nine lives will be used to satiate them for seasons to come. Where no kit will ever have to seek approval from the woods before becoming an apprentice, and where Clanmates stand together to fight the woods. I…I killed Lakestar, so that we could make a better Clan. And that is why she died." 

Redpath turned towards her secret keeper's apprentice. Iciclepool nodded, then stared down at her empty plate. Her copper eyes flickered with feeling. 

"...I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be a queen. None of those are meant to be. No thanks to her. She hated me. She was happy to see me suffer. And I was tired of it." Her bitterness was palpable, and a few cats gave a purr of sympathy. "Lakestar died so that no apprentice would ever be sent to die again. So that no queen would ever have to lose all of her children ever again from pointless cruelty." Her eyes narrowed, and her ears flattened. "And if any leader dares to try it again, I will not show mercy. No one will." 

Redpath's heart tightened. She knew Iciclepool did not mean to direct it at her. But her hate was palpable. 

I promise I won't ever become her, Redpath thought. I promise no kit, queen or apprentice will ever suffer from apathy and cruelty ever again, Iciclepool. I made a promise to Cliffstep.

Iciclepool turned her head curtly to Cloudthunder. One by one, Redpath's Clanmates spoke. 

"Lakestar died so that no cat will ever have to feel like a prisoner in their own home. Cats will learn that the world beyond our walls can be dangerous, yes, but not horrible all the time. I want more cats to see the Glimpse Clearing, and the Rocky Stepps, and the vernal pools, and the fields, and - look, the world is beautiful, okay? I know the woods are horrible. But I refuse to feel like we can never just exist in the world. This is our home too, Lakestar's death will let me - and other cats in the future, hopefully - actually experience that." 

"Uh…Lakestar died so…I…man, guys, I'm terrible with speeches. I dunno. Lakestar made me feel hopeless. I guess made others feel that way too. Her death means that we can actually have hope now. If…that's okay to say. Yeah? Okay great. Uh…your turn." 

"I…will continue to be a good healer. Lakestar died because…she made many cats angry and afraid. Hopefully there will be less of it now. I will…keep being a good healer. And a good mentor." 

"...Um…do…do you all remember Beauty? The young loner who was hurt on our border? I…I wanted to help her. But Chicoryglint, I…I remember you told me no, because Lakestar wouldn't allow it. But…maybe, in the future now, we can invoke the Law of Asylum more. At least to cats who just need a single stem of horsetail. I hope ForestClan can be a Clan where we can help more cats freely, now." 

"...Lakestar died so the pain could end. All of it." A long pause. "...I'm sorry. I have nothing kind to add." 

"That's alright, Ferncreek," Lightfoot murmured. Finally, with her turn, she sat straight. "Lakestar, wherever you may be - maybe you had good intentions for ForestClan, once, a long, long time ago. Maybe you really did want to help ForestClan, back when you wanted to find new territory. But your intentions mean little, when your actions hurt everyone around you." Lightfoot sighed. "You became a monster hellbent on making everyone fear for their lives, terrified of setting foot outside the walls of camp. You killed those who disagreed with you, and threatened the children of those who spoke out against you. You had to die, because you held no hope for your own future. You feared the woods more than you cared for your Clan. Lakestar, may your death serve as a lesson for future lorekeepers. Fear poisons and corrupts the soul, and hatred is the bastardization of love. May our new ForestClan be lead without fear, and for our love of ForestClan to outweigh all hatred we hold to our enemies." Lightfoot turned towards Redpath with a smile. "May Redstar's reign be one of hope against the threat of despair." 

Redpath's heart swelled, and a purr escaped her. Her affection turned to embarrassment as her Clanmates began slowly, then picked up, "Redstar, Redstar! Redstar! Redstar!" 

Redpath licked her chest fur, surprised to feel openly embarrassed. When was the last time she had allowed herself to feel this? 

I will do my best, Lightfoot. I promise.

********

"Redpath?" 

Redpath turned towards her secret keeper's apprentice - no, she corrected internally, her deputy - as she padded up to her from across the clearing. After the Ritual of Mercy, the Clan had decided to spend a day or so to reorganize, and discuss basic reforms to their Warrior Code. Besides, after Chicoryglint's insistence that clear moonlight would be needed for a leadership ceremony, Redpath couldn't face StarClan immediately. Although, she highly questioned Chicoryglint's words. 

Iciclepool's tail twitched. "I wanted to report that I've sent Cloudthunder and Ferncreek out on a border patrol. I've told them to be careful of any scent trails from Falconclaw or Cricketwing. I don't know if they're still in our territory, but…" 

"That's good. Thank you," Redpath nodded at her. "How's our wall restructuring?" 

"Barleywave is working on it - slowly. We have enough to repair the larger patches of rotting wood, but after that, we'll be almost out of sap. We won't have much until we can start collecting again in late winter and early spring." 

Redpath sighed. "That's not good. Are you sure we can't preserve more?"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's the least of our worries, given the herbs ruined to frost earlier this month," Iciclepool meowed tightly. She stiffened. "We can find other binding agents." 

"I…yes, I agree." Iciclepool paused, and her tail drooped. Redpath blinked back at her. "...I'm sorry, I didn't mean for the question to sound combative. I'm not used to being able to…agree with you so freely." 

Iciclepool relaxed. She sighed, her copper eyes filled with fatigue. "You're right. I'm so used to hearing otherwise. I knew your words were all a ruse to gain Lakestar's trust, but…" 

"But it was hard," Redpath finished. Her jaw clenched; remembering every argument she held with Iciclepool. How sharp her words were. How every small challenge Iciclepool made received Redpath's retort. In private, on silent patrols held in twilight, the two of them would always apologize. Reiterate their desires to remove Lakestar from power. Confirm again that it was not what Redpath earnestly thought. Iciclepool always said she understood, held herself tall, and repeated that she believed in her. If Lakestar wanted a show to inflate her ego, she could have it - whatever it took for Redpath to infiltrate Lakestar's circle. 

But that didn't come without strife and hurt feelings. 

Iciclepool looked away, distant. "I was surprised when you named me apprentice - sorry, deputy," she corrected. "I know we had discussed it before. You told me that you would, but…" 

Redpath's heart tightened. "You doubted me." 

The deputy bristled defensively. "That's not it - " 

"Wait," Redpath interjected, lifting her paw. It came out quiet; almost pleading. It was so unlike her that Iciclepool's fur flattened. "I'm sorry. I spoke sharply from…from habit. Habits I learned to survive, but aren't good for me now. Give me a moment to phrase it again." 

The two mollies sat in silence. Iciclepool tilted her head, and let out a small chuff. 

"That sounds like something Lightfoot would've said." 

Redpath let out a dry laugh, the grip around her heart loosening. "Is it that obvious?" 

"Wait, I was kidding. Did she really?" Iciclepool let out a mrrow of amusement. 

"She, ah…advised me to start thinking things over before speaking. I was the leader now, and everyone who was left, trusted me. If they didn't, they would be gone." 

"I agree with her. Well, except for…" 

An unspoken agreement was shared as their gazes drifted towards the medicine den. Chicoryglint agreed to rename herself from protector of secrets to 'medicine cat', but she was very placid and agreeable to everything, given the circumstances. She was always an enabler to Lakestar's cruelty, disguised as compassion. Redpath sighed and shook her head. She didn't think Chicoryglint was the kind of molly to plot something in the background. She was too meek for that. Quite frankly, she didn't know what Chicoryglint wanted. 

"...To circle back to what I said before…I meant to say something like…there was a lot of doubt, leading up to…to Lakestar's death," Redpath finally said. 

Iciclepool sighed. "I think I was just…scared. We've lived our whole lives only knowing Lakestar's cruelty. Really, the only reason we believed things could be different was from Lightfoot's account of Birchstar." 

Redpath nodded. "And I promise that we will be." 

Iciclepool blinked slowly at her in response. 

After a few moments, Redpath glanced across the clearing, and watched as Barleywave stood on his hind legs to reach a crack located high on one of the inner walls. His tail twitched in annoyance as he held a bundle of rope in his mouth. His eyes darted around him, trying to figure out a plan. Lightfoot stood a few tail lengths behind him. Her tail tapped the snow-covered ground patiently. After a few moments, she spoke, and Barleywave retorted. Lightfoot rolled her eyes and approached him. 

"Oh, there she goes," Iciclepool giggled. Redpath watched as Barleywave's frustrated protests disappeared as Lightfoot spoke in a low tone. Redpath couldn't pick up what she was saying, but Redpath could tell based on Barleywave's expression that she was getting through to him. Responding with compassion, kindness, and understanding. Reminding him that he was better than this. He wasn't alone, and no one was going to lash out or criticize his work anymore. 

Redpath and Iciclepool watched the scene unfold. Emotions surged through Redpath as she watched Lightfoot finally convince Barleywave to let her help, and watched the pair work together to repair the wall and re-secure bindings. For years, Lightfoot had been their pillar of hope during times of despair. She reminded them that things always changed, that the world always craved stability, and that chaos and despair was not something to build a Clan on. She pushed them to be the best versions of themselves, and to remember the stories of old - ones where good prevailed, even in all the death. Redpath remembered when she was a kit, and Lightfoot turned to her and told her about one of the last prophecies they received from StarClan - the vision of the gentle camp, ringed in spears. 

That prophecy kept her going for so many seasons. And so did Lightfoot. As she watched Barelywave's entire demeanor change, and as she caught Iciclepool's gaze softening, she realized that Lightfoot chased hope for her Clan like it was the only thing that could feed them. 

She pondered. 

"Iciclepool?" 

"Yes?" 

"I have…a thought. Lightfoot is an exceptional cat, yes?"

"Of course," Iciclepool's eyes widened. "She's…well, I think she's one of the reasons we've made it this far. I'll be honest, I think part of my doubts about being your deputy was just…" She chuckled a little. "Well, I'm just surprised you didn't make it Lightfoot instead." 

"But I promised I'd make you my deputy, that day we started our plans. Everyone knew about that promise, Lightfoot included. Do you have any idea how mad she'd be if I asked her instead?"

Iciclepool laughed. "Oh, you're right. She would be mad if you dared to ask." 

Redpath purred, her tail twitching. "But, Lightfoot has been so vital to us. I want to do something for her. Let me know your thoughts on this?"  

Redpath presented her idea. Iciclepool agreed wholeheartedly. 

*******

Redstar obtained her nine lives. Her Clan greeted her with cautious hope. She confirmed her new name, and ForestClan rejoiced. 

"But, now that I'm the true leader of ForestClan, I have one last announcement I want to make." Redstar climbed up onto the High Rock. She did not feel the need to order a Clan meeting - her Clan was all here. Instead, she spoke. "Lightfoot - please step forward." 

Lightfoot was dumbfounded. She looked at the rest of her Clanmates, all of whom were equally confused. Safe for one - Iciclepool, who sat at the bottom of the rock to Redstar's left. Her tail was raised high, and her eyes beamed. Iciclepool nodded to the dark molly, beckoning her to approach. 

Lightfoot tilted her head, now curious. She padded towards Redstar and sat before her, looking up at her new leader. 

Redstar smiled, her tail lifted high. "Lightfoot," she began, "I want to acknowledge your role in keeping us together - as friends, and as a Clan." 

Lightfoot let out a mrrow of amusement. "Aw, Redstar, come on, you don't have to make an announcement out of that." 

"Let me finish. For many seasons now, Iciclepool and I have felt like you have been vital in helping us create a better ForestClan. Yes, Iciclepool and I resolved to defeat Lakestar. But you were there to orient us, to remind us of why we were making difficult choices. From what Iciclepool told me, it's because of you that Cloudthunder and Barleywave joined our cause. It was because of your kindness, and your stalwart faith in a better future that we kept pursuing this goal." Redstar's expression turned solemn. "Distancing myself from clanmates and playing the role of the right-hand to a tyrant was difficult, and isolating. I remember many moons where I felt bitter, and angry. Sometimes I doubted that others could ever trust me, after the things I've done. But you kept us together. You reminded us all of what we were fighting for, and that despite temporary pain, it was worth fighting for. I know you try to downplay that, but I don't think you realize how important that is." 

Lightfoot looked stunned.

Iciclepool nodded, softening. "The day we killed Lakestar - I was hurt when you suggested we hold a funeral for someone who caused us so much pain. But doing so reminded us of what we actually fought for. Not for revenge, or for retribution against our tormentor. But for peace."

"And Iciclepool and I agreed, that a better ForestClan could not be built on any cats' worst impulses and feelings. My hate - or, I suppose our hate - for Lakestar cannot be what this Clan is built on. And this will be what makes our home a better place." 

Cats murmured in agreement, and it seemed like Chicoryglint and Ferncreek caught on to what their leadership planned to do. Lightfoot herself also caught on, a look of shock and wonder placed upon her shoulders. Her pupils dilated. 

"I…I just believe we're made for more than this. I've always believed that," Lightfoot meowed. 

"And I believe you are more than that," Redstar replied. With a purr, she recited, "I call upon our warrior ancestors to look upon this cat. She has transcended what a warrior is expected to perform in service of their Clan, and I call upon you to honor this cat, as I bless them with a name that suits their actions." 

"Oh, mousedung, an honor name!" Barleywave shouted from the sidelines excitedly, receiving a few laughs and a single "shhh" from Ferncreek. 

Redstar hopped down from the High Rock and placed her tail on her friend's shoulder, her heart bursting with pride. "Lightfoot, do you wish to accept this honor name?" 

Lightfoot laughed nervously. "Do I have to?" she meowed with full humility. 

"Oh, please!" Iciclepool gave Lightfoot a wide-eyed, pleading look like that of a kit. 

Lightfoot burst with laughter, heat rising to her cheeks. "Ah, mousedung, how can I say no to a face like that? Very well, lovely deputy, just for you," she teased. She turned to face Redstar, her leader and friend, and gave her a smirk. "Okay, Redstar, you've got me. Yes, I do." 

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I grant you your new warrior name." Redstar recited this almost too quickly, as though Lightfoot was going to rescind the offer - although deep down, she knew she wouldn't. Redstar thought deeply about this name, she hoped that her friend would like it. "From now on, you will be known as Hopechase. StarClan honors you for your determination and endless positivity." 

Before the newly-named Hopechase could finish licking Redstar's shoulder, cats already chanted with enthusiasm. Hopechase was filled with joy. She purred loudly and pressed against both Redstar and Iciclepool.

"Thank you. Both of you." Hopechase meowed. 

Windfur nodded solemnly, respecting her decision. Other cats noticed Redstar standing at the border of camp, and slowly padded up to them with uncertain gazes. Redstar turned to her clanmates, and raised her tail high as she addressed them.

“Cats of ForestClan. I know the woods have not been fed for several moons. Tonight, I uphold my promise I made to you all when I was made leader. I will do what Lakestar has refused to do for many seasons. For the good of our Clan, I will personally go, and feed the woods.”

The small number of cats that made ForestClan turned to look at each other for reassurance, and for a brief moment, a spark of hope was shared among them.

Iciclepool, Redstar’s deputy, approached their leader and touched noses with her. “Please. Come home soon.”

Redstar offered a purr of reassurance before giving one last look at the Clan she called home, and stepped out into darkened treeline.

The calico tabby she-cat stalked through the woods with purpose. She carefully listened for every sound, and watched for every shifting shadow. She brought her nose to the ground, and a vile stench invaded her nostrils. She wretched in disgust, anger building up within her. There it was - a disgusting imitation of a badger set. Her blue eyes narrowed as she traced the black and red roots that wrapped around the hole’s entrance and branched out to the nearest trees. A large, lumpy effigy of twisted vines and roots lingered at the entrance of the den, its form riddled with holes and long, pale hairs, like delicate vines seeking a perch.

It was a mockery of nature.

Redstar took a deep breath. As much as she hated to admit it – she had to swallow down the anxiety in her throat. She was never...truly attacked by a Woodcrawler before. Fake cats, fake Twolegs, yes. But not only did she need a Woodcrawler to attack her, she needed it to kill her. She then needed StarClan to resurrect her quickly enough for her to escape, and for the Woods to feed on the echo of her past life.

She hoped this would work. If it didn’t, then this would’ve all been for nothing.

She turned her back towards the nest...and waited.

And waited.

And waited until Redstar could feel her blood boil with anger. She would not tolerate the woods sniffing around her like a skeptical fox. Yes, she didn’t smell like she did before – the low, atmospheric tinge of StarClan’s lives still clung to her pelt. But she knew that the Woods were not that intelligent. She still smelled like cat and wet dirt. She was flesh and bone. She was not going to waste her entire night on picky parasites.

“Well? What are you waiting for, you cowards? Are you scared?” she lashed out.

Silence abruptly greeted her. The crickets grew mum, and the tree frogs stopped their croaking. The eerie silence made Redstar’s hair stand on end. She persisted, fueled on pure adrenaline.

“Can you hear me? Kill me. Do it before I lose my patience. Your dinner is ready, you mangy, maggot-infested - ”

A collection of snapping twigs and and a hollow groan interrupted her tirade. It breathed down her neck, and slowly, something echoed back:

“ARE...YOU...SCARED?”

Redstar froze.

After a moment that felt like a heartbeat, or a thousand years, she craned her neck to see what had emerged from the depths.

“CAN YOU...HEAR...ME?”

Her last thought was, that skull wasn't there before.

Wretched vines wrapped around her body and pierced the back of her head, killing her instantly.

Redstar awoke with a gasp of terror, only to find herself in the starry skies of StarClan. She was greeted by Icypaw, who looked at her with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve lost a life. Be quick on your feet. You’re at the mouth of its den. If you’re quick, you can confuse it and escape.”

“Icypaw, it pierced my head. Can I escape from a skull fracture?”

“It may feel that way – but it didn’t go through your skull. It doesn’t want your body to decay THAT fast.”

Redstar sighed. “Through my nose, then, did it? Disgusting.”

“Yes, but it’s slow.” Icypaw paused, then his eyes widened. “Time to go. Run fast, Redstar!”

Redstar felt her world blacken. Then, her vision and overwhelming pain returned to her all at once, and she yowled as she instinctively brought her paws to her face. She jammed her claws underneath the tendrils that were lodged into her nose. With one fell push, she yanked them out of her, and then started running, climbing her way out of the hilly clearing she had wandered in. She couldn’t help but look behind her one last time, and her heart went from beating with terror, to beating with excitement as a pale, greying image of herself was left behind in the Woodcrawler’s tunnel, being consumed by roots and slowly dragged into the depths.

She did it. It worked. She fed the woods.

She continued to run as quickly as she could, laughing into the night as the wind blew through her fur. She did it. She really did it! She fooled the Woodcrawlers!

She burst into camp, garnering the attention of all of her Clanmates. Every single one of them, safe for the kits, were still awake. Iciclepool was the first to bound up to her, her eyes wide.

“Redstar! You’re back!”

Her remaining Clanmates bounded up to her with immediate questions.

“Did it work? Did the Woods eat you?” Barleywave, a dark grey tom with pale points on his face and feet asked.

“What happened to your nose?” Cloudthunder, a pale gray and white molly asked.

“I’ll get cobwebs for your face,” Windfur piped as he dashed to the medicine den.

Redstar was too filled with the rush of excitement to answer them. Her eyes beamed with joy.

She succeeded. Despite everything Lakestar had told her about the Woods, about how it would tell the difference, of how nothing they ever did would change their situation – she had just ripped apart everything Lakestar had ever stood for, and it was rapturous.

The woods were fed, and all of her Clan members still lived. StarClan’s nine lives were serving their intended purpose all along. She couldn’t be happier.

----