#blizzardstar!!!

heres the wip versions for comparison!

“Frog is sick,” Bluefeather meowed, flattening his ears. The queen had caught greencough, and the medicine cat didn’t know how. He had quarantined Raccoon and had no clue how it had spread. Blizzardstorm knew there was a high likelihood that she might die, or it would complicate her pregnancy. Lately, the medicine cat had been busy with the outbreak, barely having time on his paws. It was affecting him deeply, and Blizzardstorm could see it in the way he carried himself.

“Another one?” It had been the third cat who’d fallen ill in the past few days. First Raccoon, then Shimmertail, and now Frog. Raccoon’s whitecough had developed into greencough, even though Bluefeather had given him tansy and coltsfoot. He frowned, glancing towards the herbs stashed in the crevices of the den wall. It wasn’t stocked with as many herbs as he’d seen before, but it was still a good amount. Although some appeared to be absent from their usual places, from what Blizzardstorm could tell.

“Do you want to come with me to see if there’s any catmint left at Twolegplace?” Bluefeather asked. 

“Yeah, I’ll protect you from anything that’ll attack us,” Blizzardstorm meowed half-jokingly, chuckling. “Maybe a kittypet will pounce on you when you least expect it.” Or what remains of Coyote’s rogues. Huh. Maybe it is a good idea to come with him. They might be out for revenge.

“It’s leaf-bare, I highly doubt it,” Bluefeather sniffed, not even looking up from his herbs. 

“Do you have a thorn stuck in your side or something? Come on, cheer up! I’m sure one of the kits might be interested in becoming your apprentice,” Blizzardstorm meowed, angling his ears towards the nursery. “Leaf-bare will pass, and before you know it, they’ll come of age!”

“I really wish Leafpelt was here.” The grayish-blue tom flattened his ears, shifting on his paws. 

“I know, I wish she were here too,” Blizzardstorm murmured quietly. He owed his life to both of them for saving him the day he’d been poisoned. “You need some rest, you’re exhausted from running around all day. That has to be terrible for your health.” He moved to block the entrance, and the medicine cat fixed him with a glare. “At this point, you’re going to get sick as well, and that’s not good for anyone.” 

“But I have to get catmint first,” retorted Bluefeather, trying to skirt around him. “There’s barely any left.” He jerked his muzzle over his shoulder, pointing.

Blizzardstorm glanced down towards the catmint storage, a small burrow that was sheltered from weather or moisture, where a small clump was barely recognizable as a leaf lay, and frowned.

“Fine, let’s go. But promise me that you’ll get some rest after this.”

“I will, I will,” grumbled Bluefeather. “Just let me get catmint.”

“You can always ask for help, y’know. Or maybe one of the apprentices could help you,” suggested Blizzardstorm, scooting back from the entrance. “You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“And have them mess up everything I have in my den?” He snorted, brushing his side as he pushed past him, exiting.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t do that if you tell them not to,” Blizzardstorm meowed. “What’s so important about it anyway? You can always just reorganize it.”

Bluefeather scowled, glowering at the ground. Immediately, Blizzardstorm regretted his words and wished he hadn’t said them, cursing himself internally.

“I have to keep it this way. It’s the way Leafpelt liked it.”

Blizzardstorm stopped in his tracks, skidding to a halt. He slowly turned to look back at him, but the medicine cat’s gaze didn’t waver from the ground, hunched over and tail dragging along the dirt. It was now that he realized the magnitude of his exhaustion and pain, weighing heavily on the tom’s shoulders. His throat went dry as he tried to muster up words of consolation, to no avail. All he could do was rest his tail on Bluefeather’s back for a moment before pulling away.

What they found left of the catmint was flattened, shredded stalks, leaves strewn about the ground. Even though he was a warrior, he could tell that it was damaged beyond use. The catmint had been trampled.

“It’s gone,” Blizzardstorm whispered, his eyes widening in horror.

“No, there must be some more around, I’m sure of it!” Bluefeather desperately clawed the soil around the shriveled remains, dirt spraying up from behind him. He was panicking, tugging at the damaged herbs with his teeth and whipping his head around frantically. 

“Who did this?” the medicine cat cried, flattening his ears. “In leaf-bare of all times!”

“This must’ve been deliberate,” Blizzardstorm growled, remembering how StoneClan was bitter about the battle. They must’ve crossed the border and done this! Is this why Snakepaw wasn’t at the stream?

There’s no StoneClan scent around, though. Maybe it was an accident. 

He didn’t know what to believe, shaking his head. 

Bluefeather’s tail drooped behind him as he stared at the upturned ground with tired, hollow eyes. “I could combat the greencough for a little bit with other herbs,” he muttered to himself, but Blizzardstorm knew the statement was just wishful thinking.

“Are there any other places for catmint?” Blizzardstorm asked, touching his muzzle to the medicine cat’s shoulder, trying to reassure him. The latter thought about it for a moment, narrowing his eyes and stilling his tail. Then, Bluefeather’s eyes lit up, and he spun to face Blizzardstorm, getting to his paws.

“Perhaps SunClan has some catmint to spare!” he exclaimed. “I hate to ask them for help, but this is the only solution left for us. They do have a Twolegplace near their territory, and they didn’t say anything about greencough at the last Gathering. Peachheart would definitely help us.”

“And we’re on good terms with them,” Blizzardstorm added, his eyes widening at the realization. “Surely they’d help us after saving their Clan from Houndstrike.”

Bluefeather’s entire body seemed to heave in a sigh of relief, nodding. Leaving the ruined catmint behind, they headed towards the SunClan border. He pointed out any herbs in the forest, picking them for his supply. 

“That way, this won’t be a wasted trip,” Bluefeather had said. He’d brought along with him something that could store his collected herbs in, a gift from Peachheart. Blizzardstorm’s gaze scanned over the intricately woven ‘pouch,’ marveling at the beautiful handiwork. Reeds were interlaced together, forming a sturdy structure.

But as they neared the border, he began to notice a distinct smell, different from the Thunderpath nearby. His heart dropped to his paws, recognizing the putrid scent from a previous border patrol. He felt his stomach churn at the stench, twisting into knots, threatening to regurgitate the contents of what he’d eaten earlier.

“Dog!” Blizzardstorm yowled as the barking could be heard in the distance, drawing closer and closer every heartbeat. Bluefeather snapped his head up, eyes slitted and fur spiked, letting out a hiss. “Run!”

His gaze darted around, trying to look for the nearest tree to climb up. Locking on one a few fox-lengths away, he urged Bluefeather on, letting him pass him. “Go, I’ll distract it while you get to that tree!”

The medicine cat hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave him to fend for himself, but realized he would be of no use and barreled away. Blizzardstorm could see the mutt bursting through the trees, making a racket.

He had to lead it far from camp and the tree that Bluefeather had climbed. He couldn’t let it attack his Clanmates, remembering Squirreltail, Eaglekit, and Dawningkit in the nursery. Blizzardstorm held his breath, trying to let the image fuel him with energy. Without wasting time, he bolted, his sudden movement catching the dog’s attention.

Swerving through the trunks, he tried tricking it into bumping into obstacles, making abrupt turns here and there. However, it just bridged the gap between them, and he cursed to himself. He could feel its hot breath on his back, every hair of his standing on end. His heart pounded in his ears, fear pulsing through his veins; all he could do was run with all the strength he had, and it was dwindling. He let out a yelp as it snapped at his tail, hearing teeth gnashing against teeth. 

Would this be his end? Running away from a wild dog like a coward? If he was going to protect Bluefeather, protect his Clan, then he’d rather go down fighting tooth and claw.

Spinning on his heels, he whipped around to see the dog, face to face for the first time. Its wild, yellow eyes blazed with a primal rage, and its jaws were agape, revealing a vicious set of teeth. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth, a lump of pink flesh wriggling around like a worm. It was humongous, with sharp claws that could kill him in quick succession if he was not careful.

Blizzardstorm braced himself, barely dodging as it lunged towards him, rolling under its belly. Twisting around, he raked its underside with a mighty blow, lashing out with his hind claws and ripping into its skin, eliciting a howl in response.

He was determined to keep up this fight as long as possible, but he could feel his strength faltering as the deadly dance continued. A red spray splattered across the ground as Blizzardstorm became acutely aware of something warm dripping from his hind leg. He whirled around in shock, finding the dog raising its paw, claws glinting with blood. Ducking and rolling away, he heard the claws whistling through the air, only to find their target gone. 

Growling, he sank his teeth into the dog’s shoulder, feeling the soft flesh break easily. He could feel it thrashing, trying to throw him off. Blizzardstorm was forced to let go when it nearly bit his leg, snapping dangerously close to where they had been. Coughing, he tried to regain his composure as he fell to the ground with a thud, rolling away.

The dog, however, was quick to recover, lunging at him. Blizzardstorm tried to get up, but found himself pinned down by its paws, claws digging into his stomach. He desperately kicked at it with his hind legs, but it was a feeble attempt. Its hot breath and gaping maw bore down on him, its eyes of death staring into his soul. He couldn’t bear to face them, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the inevitable.

“Hey!” A voice shouted from behind him, drawing the dog’s attention. It jerked its head away from him, and Blizzardstorm could finally breathe again, the weight being lifted off him. “Leave him alone!”

He scrambled to his paws, gasping and coughing, forcing air down into his body. His chest and limbs burned with the effort it took to even move. Lifting his head, he looked up to see his savior. It was the SunClan deputy, Dawnfall, along with two other cats, forming a patrol. For a brief moment, Blizzardstorm wondered how far he’d led the dog to have SunClan show up. I hope Bluefeather is okay. 

He could only watch as the patrol drove away the dog, working together to take it down. Dawnfall chomped on its left ear, delivering a swift bite and clawing at its shoulder at the same time, while Sagewing and Nightpaw darted underneath it, slicing its heels. Before long, the dog’s barks and growls were reduced to mere whimpers, and it fled towards the outskirts of their territory, tail between its legs.

“I can’t believe I got to fight off a dog!” Nightpaw exclaimed, her tail quivering in excitement. “Flashpaw’s going to be so jealous.”

Blizzardstorm whipped his head around, trying to find Bluefeather, a sense of worry growing and gnawing at him. Is he still up in the tree? What if another dog attacked him? 

He knew the thought was irrational, as one dog—let alone two—was rare enough in leaf-bare. A sigh escaped him as he turned to the SunClan patrol, who stared after the dog in triumph.

“Thank you,” he meowed, dipping his head. “I owe my life to you three.”

“There’s no need to thank us, we just saw a cat in need,” Dawnfall dismissed, flicking her tail and giving Blizzardstorm a warm smile. “What were you doing so far away from StormClan camp?” The question wasn’t malicious, just expressed out of curiosity.

Blizzardstorm glanced over his shoulder, seeing how the trees were long behind him. The fur on the back of his neck raised in alarm. “Where’s—have you seen Bluefeather?” 

Dawnfall shared glances with Sagewing and Nightpaw, who both shook their heads. 

“We wanted to ask Peachheart if you had any catmint to spare,” Blizzardstorm explained, frowning. “We’ve had an outbreak of greencough recently, and we’ve run out of supplies.”

“I’m sure she does. Nightpaw, could you go back to camp to ask Peachheart?” Sagewing nodded at his apprentice. The small, black she-cat quickly darted away, crossing the Thunderpath and disappearing into the heather. 

“He must be back in the forest somewhere. I told him to climb up a tree.”

“Do you need an escort?” Dawnfall asked, her gaze trailing over the injuries he’d sustained.

Blizzardstorm shook his head. Blossomstar is still hostile about borders after that StoneClan battle. She wouldn’t be happy finding SunClan on our territory as well. “I’ll be fine.”

The deputy frowned, but nodded in understanding. He turned away, heading back towards the cover of the trees. A jolt of pain shot up his hind leg as he put weight on it, but he pushed it aside, focusing on finding Bluefeather.

As he neared the trees, a familiar scent greeted him, and from the forest came StormClan’s medicine cat, his fur still standing on end.

“Blizzardstorm?” Bluefeather’s eyes softened at the sight of him, relieved. Although the edges of his mouth twitched downwards at the sight of his wounds. “Thank StarClan, I thought the dog had gotten you.”

“I wouldn’t let a mangy old dog kill me after everything, would I?” Blizzardstorm chuckled, feeling the adrenaline finally begin to recede. “You, on the other hand…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened anyway?”

“A SunClan patrol drove it off, thankfully. They’re still waiting near the border, since I told them about our catmint situation. Nightpaw was going to fetch the herbs from Peachheart.”

“I see. That scratch on your leg looks nasty. We should hurry back to camp afterwards.”

Blizzardstorm nodded, flicking his tail to signal for him to follow. Leading him back over to Dawnfall and Sagewing, he could see that the apprentice had returned, much quicker than he’d thought. 

“Glad to see you two safe and sound,” the deputy meowed.

“Thank you for chasing away the dog. Give Peachheart my gratitude for the catmint as well.” Bluefeather dipped his head, taking the herbs from Nightpaw. 

“Anything to make up for what you did for our Clan,” responded Dawnfall. 

“We have plenty of herbs anyway,” Sagewing added. 

“It’s time we parted ways,” Blizzardstorm said, blinking graciously towards the SunClan warriors. “Thank you again.”

He watched as the patrol crossed the Thunderpath separating the two territories safely, then turned back to Bluefeather. The rest of the walk was a blur, filled with pain and exhaustion, and before long, he found his wounds cleaned and staunched by cobwebs in the medicine den, then lay down in his nest.

When he woke up, his body ached all over, feeling as though he’d rolled in a pile of rocks. A jolt of pain shot his eyes open as he strained his neck, letting out a hiss. Fox-dung! Everything hurts. 

Blizzardstorm turned over his paw, examining his pawpads. They were unusually swollen and cracked, and he dragged his tongue over them, only to be met with pain. Ouch! Must’ve been from all that running. Does Bluefeather have anything for sores? 

He remembered other cats visiting the medicine den for the same reason, but couldn’t place his paw on what the specific herb was called. It didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like he was training to become a medicine cat. Still useful information to know, though.

“Blizzardstorm, you’re awake! I heard what happened. Are you okay?” Splashtail’s head poked in from the entrance of the warriors’ den. 

“Everything hurts,” Blizzardstorm reiterated, letting out a groan as he stretched his paws, feeling his joints creak and pop. 

“That was so brave and stupid of you,” Splashtail chided, tossing him a squirrel.

“Great, don’t make me feel worse than I already do,” he grumbled. He gratefully scarfed it down, just now realizing how hungry he was. “Thanks.”

“I’ve gotta go on a hunting patrol with Blossomstar. Rest easy, alright?” 

“I will. Just need to see Bluefeather for these.” He lifted his paw to show his sister, and she winced in sympathy.

“That does look bad,” she agreed. “I’ll see you later.”

He nodded, watching as she padded away. Blizzardstorm stalked off towards the medicine den, gingerly placing his paws down onto the ground, every step causing him pain. When he finally reached the entrance, relief flooded his body. 

Bluefeather turned and spotted him, worry flashing across his face. “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, just sore pads.”

“Let’s get you some dock leaves. That I have plenty of.”

Blizzardstorm followed him further into the den, watching as the medicine cat scanned the walls lined with herbs. He was surprised at the speed and efficiency with which Bluefeather had found the leaves he was looking for.

“That’s weird, I collected those recently,” Bluefeather meowed, frowning. He pawed over the wilted plants, separating them from the healthy ones that remained in the stock. “How did they spoil so fast?”

Blizzardstorm tilted his head in curiosity, glancing towards the herbs as well. A flash of movement caught his eye, a black speck against the green. He thought he’d imagined it, but it began to move again. “What is that?”

Bluefeather’s brow furrowed, quickly brushing it away and crushing it with his paw. “Just a pest. It’s probably what killed my plants.”

“That small thing?” Blizzardstorm asked in disbelief. It’d been as small as the width of his whiskers.

“There’s probably more, I’d have to check,” the grayish blue tom stifled a grumble. “How’d I miss an infestation in my herbs?”

All of a sudden, the medicine cat went rigid, freezing in place. His stare went blank as a misty cloud fell across his face, shrouding his expression. Then, Bluefeather slowly turned his head to fix his gaze upon him, but he seemed to be staring straight through his soul, as if StarClan itself was casting its judgment upon him. Suppressing a shudder, Blizzardstorm watched as he opened his mouth, contorting into an uncanny wail.

“Turn back—turn back from the darkness before it’s too late! Beware the one who controls the storms! Blood will spill, and the stars will fall!”

@castiels-destiny

Next chapter:

Before Blizzardstorm could even react, Bluefeather was back to normal, like nothing had happened. His cloudy gaze cleared, and Blizzardstorm sat there, astonished.

“...Bluefeather?” Blizzardstorm tentatively reached out with his paw, not knowing whether he should touch him or not. His mew was barely audible in the heavy silence that had fallen over the den. While his voice was steady, his stomach roiled in panic, twisting and writhing like a snake.

Bluefeather jerked back from him, blinking a few times before gasping. It took him a few heartbeats to regain his voice. “Another prophecy?” The medicine cat meowed in disbelief. “So soon after Houndstar? What does it mean?”

As the medicine cat stared at him, Blizzardstorm could feel his chest tighten, opening his mouth but unable to speak a word. “I’ve… I’ve got to go,” he forced out, his head spinning as he turned to exit the den. No. This can’t be happening again! 

“Blizzardstorm, wait—” He didn’t let the medicine cat finish, the sun nearly dazzling him as he burst through the decorative vines. Scrabbling to his paws, he did the only thing he was best at: run. Run like he had, away from Houndstrike. Run like he had, away from the dog. And now, from the inevitable: a message from StarClan that spelled doom for the path that lay ahead. What even was the point anymore? The endless questions that had been raised from the prophecy only served to distress him further.

In his rush, he hadn’t noticed a cat had appeared in his path, and he collided into them, staggering. The impact had prompted a yelp from the cat, and he quickly stumbled back, shaking his head. 

“Sorry!” He blurted out. 

But to his surprise, he was met with not hostility, but warmth.“Blizzardstorm! Just the cat I wanted to see. Are you okay?” His vision cleared, and he saw that the voice belonged to Acornleaf.

At the sight of his former mentor, he sagged with relief. His body begged for him to collapse, having exerted himself well beyond his limits. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, the wind having stolen his breath. “Hey.”

“How are you holding up? Heard you were attacked by a dog. Had us all worried, y’know.”

“Not well.” Again, the impulsive thought of running away wormed its way into his head. He didn’t want to talk further, but out of obligation, he added, “I feel terrible.”

“Let’s go for a walk. Maybe it’ll clear your head,” Acornleaf suggested. Blizzardstorm frowned, but reluctantly agreed.

“Blizzardstorm, did you leave camp last moonhigh?” Goldenstripe asked on their way out, shooting him a puzzling look.

“No, I would’ve remembered if I had,” he responded, his frown deepening. Well, I can’t remember much of anything. I was so tired.

“Huh. I must’ve just imagined it, then. I thought I saw you while I was on guard duty,” he explained.

“Maybe you saw my sister?” Blizzardstorm suggested. That was the only plausible explanation he could come up with. “Or Python?” He was the only other gray tabby. 

“Maybe.” He sounded unsure, but the golden tabby turned away, heading off to the fresh-kill pile. That was weird.

They didn’t go far from the camp, only out of earshot from everyone else. Out of sight, too. “Why’d you want to talk to me?”

“I was worried about you. You’re exhausted, and I’m sure our Clanmates would notice and tell you the same thing. You need a break from all the stress, you’re working yourself too hard,” Acornleaf murmured. “What’s on your mind?”

He sucked in a breath, his mind screaming at him to shut her out and push her away. She only wants to help, he countered.

“Bluefeather had another prophecy,” Blizzardstorm admitted, grimacing to himself before reciting: “Turn back—turn back from the darkness before it’s too late! Beware the one who controls the storms! Blood will spill, and the stars will fall!”

His former mentor was quiet for a few heartbeats, tilting her head curiously, deep in thought. “That is quite odd. Controlling the storms? Is it referring to StarClan? But why would StarClan warn us about themselves?”

“It’s so stupid. Why does it even matter? The last time a prophecy was involved, I lost my kin,” Blizzardstorm hissed, lashing his tail. “And now StarClan’s throwing us into another one?” It must be a cruel joke to them.

“Maybe we can stop more cats from dying if we stop it in time,” Acornleaf suggested. Her words did nothing to temper his turmoil. “Who knows, StarClan works in mysterious ways.” She faltered as she made eye contact with him, padding over to his side. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t even… remember their faces,” he choked back a sob, hot tears threatening to fall down his face. He tried to concentrate and conjure them up in his mind, but all he could make out were fuzzy, gray and white blobs that remained of his father, mother, and brother’s likenesses. “Houndstrike took so much away from me.”

“It’s normal to forget the faces of cats you haven’t seen in a long time,” Acornleaf murmured gently, careful not to startle him. He felt her striped, bushy tail curl around him, and he pressed himself closer to her, seeking out her warmth like a kit nuzzling closer to its mother’s belly.

“Everyone’s moved on from them so… quickly. Like they never even mattered.” He knew it was a selfish thing to think of, given that there were so many Clanmates they’d all lost to Houndstrike. He remembered Squirreltail, and shame washed over him like a tidal wave. She was still grieving her mate, and surely others were as well.

“Tell me about them. What were they like?”

Blizzardstorm was stunned into silence, dumbfounded by the question. “You’ve known my parents longer than I have,” he pointed out after regaining his composure. “My mother was your mentor. And you remember what Spiderpaw was like.”

“Not to the extent that you and your sister did. You’re their kit and littermate. Your parents doted on you three.” Acornleaf purred at the last statement, as if reminiscing on an instance of it. “And plus, I want to hear more about them from your perspective. I’m sure you have more stories about them than I do.”

He couldn’t help but agree with that, scanning his mind for memories. “There was this one time, when neither of my parents were busy with their duties. They devoted most of their day to us. Playing moss-ball, pretending to be enemy Clans… I even remember Spiderpaw catching a butterfly right out of the air, it was amazing! He would’ve made a great warrior.” Blizzardstorm’s gaze shifted to his paws when he spoke the last sentence.

“They would’ve wanted you to live. Honor their memory and live the life your brother never got.” His mentor touched her nose to his cheek, closing her eyes. “I know everything feels difficult right now, but you can pull through it.”

He couldn’t help the sobs that built up in his chest. This time, he let them out, hunching over and curling in on himself, his body shaking. 

“Oh, Blizzardstorm,” Acornleaf whispered. “How long have you been holding these feelings in? It’s not healthy to suppress them. You can always tell me about anything.”

“I know, I know,” he croaked. She waited patiently for him to regain his composure, resting her head on the top of his. A purr rumbled deep from her throat and reverberated through his pelt. Each heartbeat that passed stretched out into seasons before he felt the painful wails slow down. The sun had noticeably gone down a bit from when they’d left camp.

“I’m proud of how far you’ve come. You will make a fine deputy one day,” Acornleaf bunted her head against his, blinking affectionately. “Hopefully Blossomstar will assign one of Squirreltail’s kits to you as an apprentice when they are of age. You’d be a great mentor, and I’m sure you’re ready for that responsibility.”

“Thank you.” He’d heard the words from Oakwhisper during his silent vigil, but it was reassuring to hear his other mentor say so as well. Am I ready, though?

“Take it easy, okay? I don’t want to see you going on patrols any time soon, especially after a dog nearly mauled you. Can’t have you get attacked again.”

“I will.” His eyes glittered with appreciation as he watched Acornleaf pad away, presumably to go hunting. Blizzardstorm appreciated the space she had given him to go back to camp, slipping through the gorse tunnel. His former mentor’s words had given him an idea.

Glancing around, he spotted the brown and white pelt of Fawnleap, laying in the shade of one of StormClan’s many trees. Picking out a rabbit from the fresh-kill pile, he stalked towards her, seeing her ears twitch as he got closer. Relieved that she wasn’t asleep, he sat down on his haunches next to her.

“Is that rabbit I smell?” She purred, lifting her head. He dropped it by her paws, recalling her words at his parents’ burial.

“You were friends with my parents, right?” Fawnleap nodded, turning her curious gaze to him. “I was wondering if you could tell me a story about them.”

“I’m not as great a storyteller as my father, but sure,” Fawnleap murmured, a soft smile on her face. Blizzardstorm felt a pang of sadness, having forgotten about Thrushwing’s death. Another cat I can’t remember, great. “I wish he were here… Why did Houndstar kill him? He was an elder.”

“Even if he’s gone, parts of him still remain,” Blizzardstorm said hesitantly, remembering the conversation with his mentor earlier. “Your very existence is proof of that. He lives on through the stories he’s passed down, like the creation of StormClan. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job taking up his mantle.”

“It seems like only a moon ago you were a kit,” the spotted she-cat purred, taking a bite of the rabbit. It was then that he realized his line of sight had grown to meet at Fawnleap’s chin, remembering how she’d loomed over him and his littermates. She nudged the rabbit towards him, upturning it with her paw. “You should eat some.”

“I ate already.” It was a half-truth; he had done so, but much earlier in the day. He just didn’t feel hungry at the moment.

The she-cat didn’t push it further, but she couldn’t hide the concern that flashed across her face. 

“Your father was so reckless when we were all apprentices. It was so obvious he had a crush on Whitefur, and we used to tease him about it all the time. You’d be surprised how much he changed after becoming a warrior. If you saw him when he was younger, you probably wouldn’t have recognized him.”

Blizzardstorm recalled all the mischief he and his littermates had gotten into as kits, and tried to picture a smaller version of his father running around camp and getting under StormClan warriors’ paws. But when his image of him kept warping and changing pelt patterns, he grew more and more distressed, breaking the vision.

“One time, Lightningstar—Lightningpaw, at the time, went after a hare to impress your mother.” Fawnleap’s whiskers quivered in amusement, holding back a mrrow of laughter. 

“A hare?” He tried to imagine what the animal looked like, having never heard of it before. He could still hear the heavy thudding of his heart, but it was only now that it began to slow.

“It’s like a rabbit, but much, much more dangerous. They’re bigger and faster, and have blinded cats before with their sharp claws. Even the most seasoned warriors hesitate to hunt them,” Fawnleap warned. “They’re more common in SunClan territory, but sometimes we get them here. When your father returned to camp with scratches all over his pelt, his mentor practically chewed his ear off. It was nearly the size of him! No idea how he carried it back, but it fed the whole Clan, though.”

“Did it work?” 

“Honestly, I think Whitefur was more worried about him than anything,” the she-cat meowed. “She would constantly check on him in the medicine den. Leafpelt’s mentor, Fennelfern, would get so annoyed. Your mother was always quick to learn new battle moves. I remember during a border scuffle with SunClan, she took on a fully grown warrior! It was amazing. No wonder Lightningstar made her his second-in-command.

“He was always so smitten with her during their apprenticeship, and at first, she only thought of him as a friend. It was only when they got their warrior names and Lightningstripe mellowed out a bit that they became mates.”

“My father’s warrior name was Lightningstripe?” Blizzardstorm cried in astonishment. “How did my mother get Whitefur as hers?”

“Seedstar was quite a fan of using the word fur,” Fawnleap sniffed disdainfully. “We used to have a Maplefur and a Sunfur. There was a rumor that after he lost his sixth life, he got lazy with names. She was quite devastated after her ceremony.”

Blizzardstorm let out a snort. “Maybe Seedstar’s warrior name was terrible, and he was getting revenge.”

 “If I’d been named Fawnfur, I would’ve rioted,” she chuckled. “Seedstar also named Cinderclaw and Wolfclaw, which was an interesting choice.”

“Were they always bullies?”

“Pretty much. Their apprenticeship was delayed by a moon after they nearly killed a SunClan cat in a battle.” Blizzardstorm recoiled in shock. “They got an earful from Seedstar and their mentors.”

“What was Houndstrike like?”

“He was a bit of a hot-head, but loyal to our Clan. At least, under Seedstar, that is.” Fawnleap let out a huff of exasperation. She was quiet for a few heartbeats, staring off into the distance, her eyes fixated on nothing in particular. ”It’s funny how we don’t fully appreciate the time we have with our loved ones until they’re gone. You never know when’s the last time you’ll ever get to spend with them. Ravenflight… he was a wonderful mate and father. Mistlepaw looks so much like him. I wish he were here to see them become warriors.”

Blizzardstorm had nothing to say to that, licking her on the ear as a gesture of comfort. She finished the rabbit and started licking her fur clean, stopping only when Blizzardstorm ducked down to do it for her. In response, she smoothed the fur on his back, which brought a fresh jolt of grief. His mother had done the same before him and his littermates’ apprentice ceremony. Finally, he asked the question he’d been wanting to ask the entire time, while Fawnleap groomed his fur. “Does it ever get any better?”

“Yes. It’ll never fully go away, though, and the pain will always be with you, no matter what.”

“Oh.” Blizzardstorm’s tail drooped.

“But you can mitigate it. I found that focusing on what I have right now, my kits and my friends, instead of what I’ve lost, helps.” Blizzardstorm expected her to glance towards Flutterpaw and Mistlepaw, who had just returned from training with their mentors, but her gaze remained steady on him as she continued. “Some days you might feel terrible, and some days you might feel like you’re on top of the world, but that’s just a part of the journey.”

“But I want to feel better now.” He didn’t want to become warped by grief like Houndstrike had, a hollow husk of the cat he used to be. He couldn’t bear the thought of killing so many cats after losing someone he loved. 

But you’ve already done that. You killed Houndstrike in your grief, remember? Oakwhisper’s voice sounded as if he was right beside them, slithering its way into Blizzardstorm’s ear. He fought the urge to bristle in surprise, forcing his fur to lay flat against his spine. 

No, I’m nothing like him. I will never be like him. I had to kill him to save everyone else. Blizzardstorm squeezed his eyes shut, recalling their fight, and Houndstrike’s last moments. The difference between him and I is that I had a reasonable cause. He didn’t. 

“—You have to give yourself time to heal from the wounds. It may take moons, even seasons to truly heal, but it will happen.” Fawnleap’s gentle mew, as light as a feather floating on the wind, guided him out of the labyrinth that was his mind. “We are more than what’s happened to us in the past.”

She touched her nose to his, and a sense of warmth blossomed from his chest, spreading throughout his body, from nose to tail-tip. He made a mental note to himself to visit her more often.

“How’s your leg?” Fawnleap asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “That was dangerous, leading the dog away. Brave, but reckless.” She fussed over him like he was a kit, licking the top of his head.

“Hey, I’m still alive,” Blizzardstorm retorted, trying to escape her licks. “It still hurts a little. I should probably go check with Bluefeather about my wounds.” He remembered how he ran off, wincing in shame. “Thank you again for telling me more about my parents.” 

“Of course.” Fawnleap nuzzled him one last time before he drew away, heading for the medicine den.

“I’m sorry for earlier, Bluefeather,” he began, but the medicine cat cut him off with a flick of his tail. Blizzardstorm felt him sniff the wounds on his hind leg, checking their state before redressing them with fresh cobwebs and marigold.

“No need, I know how you felt at the moment. Who could blame you, after everything that’s happened?” Blizzardstorm breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t hate him for his outburst. “Are your paws still sore?”

Blizzardstorm gasped, having forgotten about the reason he’d come to the medicine den in the first place. He nodded, and the grayish-blue tom popped a few dock leaves into his mouth, chewing them and slathering the goop onto his cracked pawpads. The gray tabby dipped his head in gratitude.

“You should take it easy on your paws for a while. Also, some cat left this for you.” Bluefeather disappeared into the shadows of the den, before emerging with a grouse clasped between his teeth. He gasped at the sight of his favorite piece of prey, his mind already racing to guess who had done such a thing. His sister? Or maybe his former mentor?

Bluefeather probably would’ve told me if it had been Splashtail or Acornleaf. It must’ve been a surprise to him too.

“Thank you,” Blizzardstorm murmured, grabbing it. I’m sure Splashtail would love to share this with me. 

He found his sister heading towards the warrior’s den, quickly getting her attention before she disappeared into the cave. Her eyes lit up once she saw what was hanging from his jaws.

“Come share this grouse with me,” Blizzardstorm invited, beckoning her with a flick of his tail. “How was hunting with Blossomstar?”

“Oh, she’s not that bad. She actually taught me something new,” Splashtail meowed, before taking a bite out of the bird.

“Really? What was it?” The silence was almost unbearable as his sister gulped down the prey. Why was she defending the same cat that had supported Houndstrike? Who had, according to Bluefeather and Houndstrike himself, killed her own sister in cold blood?

“Most birds nest up in trees, right? Well, some species keep their eggs tucked away under foliage, on the forest floor,” Splashtail explained. “We found quite a few. I might have to teach you sometime.”

Blizzardstorm’s eyes widened in disbelief. Was this a ploy from Blossomstar to gain his sister’s trust? If so, he wasn’t falling for it. He wasn’t forgiving her so easily. Blizzardstorm didn’t voice his suspicions outloud, however. He simply nodded, taking her offer. He wanted to tell her about the prophecy Bluefeather had received, but didn’t want to ruin her mood. 

Beware the one who controls the storms… An icy wave of realization crashed down upon him, chilling him to the bone. He had to keep an eye out now.

What if StarClan was referring to Blossomstar?

@castiels-destiny