#boarpaw

“We ought to rest a bit,” she murmured, her wide head close to Fernstar’s to keep their conversation private. “It’s been daylight for a while now, and…”

“I know.” Fernstar sighed and looked behind her. Her collective of Fleet cats, from the powerful patrollers to the scrawny scouts, were boldly following after her, but she could see that they were just as exhausted as she was.

As clearly as her tiredness would allow, she announced, “We’ll stop for a few hours. Let’s get as much sleep as we can before we continue. The trail is still fresh.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. Fernstar stopped a few steps away, where a smooth stone allowed her to climb onto it as a perch. She nodded to everyone, and they all barely took more than a step before curling up where they were, eyes shutting at a record pace. Even Fogpetal only did a quick scan of their surroundings before lying down herself. Viceroyclaw jumped onto the stone with Fernstar, lying close enough that their fur brushed. Fernstar didn’t even acknowledge her guard – drowsiness muffled her thoughts, and she swiftly fell asleep.

When she awoke again, she felt much more alert, but she frowned. Something had scratched at the back of her mind in her sleep, just beyond her hearing, and she wasn’t sure what it was.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” Boarpaw was walking past her and paused to rear up a little and meet her at eye level. “You had a bad dream or somethin’?”

Fernstar squinted, focusing, then shook her head. “It’s nothing. Where’s Viceroyclaw?”

“She went huntin’ with Glorypelt and Newtbite. Said they’d be back soon.”

“Good.” Fernstar glanced sideways. The rest of the Fleet were still asleep in the midday sun, which she could see was slowly drying the dew and mud. The warmth sank through her fur and eradicated the last of her shivers. She stretched and yawned. “If you’re tired, you can keep sleeping.”

“Oh, no, ma’am, I’m fine,” Boarpaw said quickly, standing tall. “I was keepin’ watch, ‘case someone came up on us.”

Fernstar gave him a patiently amused smile. “We’re the ones ‘coming up’ on someone.”

Boarpaw looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet, voice quieter. “Well, just bein’ sure.”

“Rest a little more, Boarpaw,” Fernstar ordered in about as gentle of a voice as she could. “We’ll be fine.”

Boarpaw shuffled again, opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then nodded sheepishly and walked away, lying down with his fellow Fleet members. Fernstar restrained a chuckle when she heard him start snoring mere moments later.

The wind picked up a little, parting Fernstar’s fur and sending ripples through the grass in the flatland they were resting in. Fernstar watched the shimmering waves, contemplating whether to sleep again herself or to wait for the hunting patrol to return.

Entirely too soon, her thoughts turned to the current mission, and that disappointed hurt clutched at her heart again. Memories of Redheart as an apprentice directing adults in hunts or solving disputes for her juniors almost made Fernstar’s smile return. When Redheart’s mother had died, she’d gone through a change in activity. Not that she hadn’t been a hard worker before, but suddenly she was foregoing sleep to handle problems and somehow transforming the rowdy Clast cats into a respectable family – or about as respectful as they could get while still getting to wrestle for fun. Fernstar hadn’t waited more than a month or two after her naming ceremony before appointing her as the new deputy, and no one had been surprised. There had, of course, been arguments that Redheart was too young, but anyone who’d known her for even a week knew that she was the best choice. Everyone expected her to become leader one day. So had Fernstar.

So what changed?

Try as she might, Fernstar couldn’t figure it out. Going from being a loyal member of the Clan, working up the ranks to eventual leadership, to recruiting cats to leave the Territory with no end goal stated… there wasn’t a connection that she could think of. Redheart had always been sensible and collected, and she had always made it known that she believed in building a better future for the next generation. Abandoning the safest place in the known world (small as the world was) with expecting queens and apprentices in tow was the complete opposite. It just didn’t make sense.

What also didn’t make sense was the sudden turning of the spies. Mistface, at least, Fernstar could understand. He and Greyleaf were in a very tightly bonded family – Mistface had only been recruited because he was the one cat Greyleaf would trust above anyone else, except perhaps their mother. But the others had no reason to ditch their post and follow Redheart wherever she had gone. Laurelclaw was a very meek, peaceful boy, and Beetlefoot was dedicated to his role as a member of the Fleet. Neither of them seemed like the types to run off.

The really odd one was Darkpelt. Fernstar was very familiar with the spy. She was crafty and practical, and took great pleasure in her work. She had been used by the leaders plenty of times, dropping by to give them reports of troublemakers or ambitious deputies to watch out for. Any cat that hired her to find out information would find their time well spent and the price of prey and herbs easy to hand over. She barely ever demanded payment anyway; she just loved being a secret pair of ears.

This sort of cat did not seem to be the sort to foolishly walk off after a wanted molly. Someone in Clast had recalled overhearing her mention that she ‘had a job to do’, but as far as Fernstar was concerned, her mission was completed. All she needed to do was give her report and then wait for the investigation to be done, potentially followed by a trial (which was now almost certain, as much as Fernstar hated to admit it). Darkpelt had never lingered on spying before. She’d release her information to the leaders and leave it at that until she was called back.

What had Redheart said or done that was so compelling that this particular spy wanted to follow her? Was there something she hadn’t told the others, or the leaders?

“Fernstar.”

Fernstar flinched out of her contemplation. Viceroyclaw had managed to get almost in her face without her noticing, front paws on the stone she rested on, a ground squirrel in her jaws.

“I brought you something,” Viceroyclaw mumbled around the prey.

“Oh-“ Fernstar sat up. “Thank you. Did you catch something for yourself?”

Viceroyclaw nodded at something on the ground. She placed the squirrel at Fernstar’s feet before ducking down and retrieving a much smaller mouse.

Fernstar managed to not snort. “I think this squirrel would be better suited for you.”

Viceroyclaw blinked, confused, before glancing down at the squirrel which was a third of Fernstar’s size and murmuring, “Ohhh…” She replaced the squirrel with the mouse and climbed onto the stone, sitting across from her leader and tucking in quietly.

The two ate for a bit, Fernstar observing the other two hunters waking up their friends with lunch. She waited until she had finished her meal and Viceroyclaw was slowing down on hers before speaking.

“I just can’t understand,” she said. “This whole situation is so bizarre.”

Viceroyclaw hummed and looked up with her eyes, an indication that she was listening as she continued chewing.

“It seems to have come out of nowhere,” Fernstar went on, half to herself. “Redheart isn’t like this. And Darkpelt and her team leaving with her…” She looked at her high deputy. “Do you have any ideas why this is happening?”

Viceroyclaw chomped once, twice, swallowed, and cleared her throat. “No. But I don’t really think it matters, the ‘why’. She and Greyleaf did what they did. They should be punished for it.”

Fernstar’s face must have fallen, because Viceroyclaw hurried to add, “Or at least handled. Whatever you and the others decide to do.”

“Right,” Fernstar muttered. She looked back at the Fleet cats, who were all chatting while they ate. They were all so tightly bonded together – some would argue for them being even closer than any of the regular families’ members. She had no doubt that if one of them were in Redheart’s position, at least a few of these cats would follow them into the night. They were loyal that way.

But as far as Fernstar knew, there was no loyalty to anyone in the runaway group except Mistface to Greyleaf, and Greyleaf to him and Redheart. The apprentice, Littlepaw, was supposedly followed by her pseudo-mentor, so there was a connection there, but they didn’t have anything to do with any part of this. What part of a former seer’s dreams encouraged her to just walk off after an almost-certain-to-be criminal? Wouldn’t StarClan have told her to stay away from Redheart, if they still spoke with her?

Would they find other cats? Would they attempt to recruit evacuees again? Who would go with them anywhere?

A light flickered in Fernstar’s head.

She could think of at least one cat. Perhaps one that they were already on the way to collecting.

“Fogpetal!” she called.

The Fleet deputy raised her head up from the remains of her vole and stood up, excusing herself from the conversation she was in. She trotted up to the rock and silently stood at attention.

“Do you know if the Vultures have moved from their position?” Fernstar asked.

Fogpetal shook her head. “They should still be there. They have kits to raise, from what I heard.”

“Good.” Fernstar was surprised by her own sigh of relief. “Then I want two of these cats to make their way over to their camp and guard Greyleaf’s mother. Her name is Nettlecloud – she’s a grey, elderly molly.”

“Oh.” Fogpetal’s eyes widened in realization. “I see. I can have them collect more guards on the way there, if you’d like.”

“That would be good,” Fernstar said. “Send whoever you think is appropriate. Whoever can at least hold back a healer and his Scattered brother.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Fogpetal said, joking.

Fernstar narrowed her eyes. “We may be surprised.”

Fogpetal immediately went serious again, dipped her head in respect, and returned to her party. Fernstar heard her speaking to them and giving orders. In a moment, a grey-brown tom named Thrashercloud and the tortoiseshell Newtbite set off at a loping canter, calling their 'goodbye's and 'good luck's to the others. Fernstar could respect that they didn’t waste any time.

Fogpetal looked back at Fernstar. “Shall we keep moving?”

“Yes.” Fernstar got up. “Before this trail dries up. Everyone ready?”

The Fleet cats immediately followed after their deputy, all confirming that they were good to go. Fernstar didn’t waste any time either – she jumped off of the stone, Viceroyclaw right next to her, and looked at an approaching Boarpaw.

“Can you track a scent?” she asked.

“Oh, of course!” Boarpaw brightened up, looking much more awake. “Me and my mentor, we can do it.”

“Then the two of you will run south, ahead of us, and make sure the trail doesn’t turn anywhere.”

“Right away.” Boarpaw immediately took off at a run, his pale ginger mentor jogging after him with a slightly frazzled smile to Fernstar.

“I don’t like it.” The bulky calico, Viceroyclaw, was the one to break the silence. Fernstar’s high deputy was muted, but everyone looked at her all the same. “Something’s wrong.”

“Given that screamin’ we heard…” A dark, grey-brown apprentice just behind her drew in a breath, and his drawl had a lagging anxiety in it. “Ma’am, shouldn’t I go up ahead, see what’s goin’ on?”

The scout-in-training had asked that three times now, and Fernstar returned with her third answer. “I don’t want anyone getting caught in something before we get there.”

They had been a very long ways away from the settlement – just far enough to barely see several mounds of stone – when, through the storm, had come the sounds of battle. Yowls and screeches, riddled with raindrops, shook the entire party, and the patrollers had wanted to run to investigate. Fernstar had stopped them, because fighting of that scale was extremely rare in the Territory and she was not eager to get anyone hurt for an unknown reason. Before long, the noise had died down, but everyone was still unsettled.

Now, they were a minute or two’s walk away from the houses, and Fernstar wanted her whole patrol together in case they needed to make a run for it. Glorypelt had managed to convince her to let him take his apprentice with them on this journey as a test to see if he was ready to earn his name. She was not eager to send the boy into potential danger on his own.

Nothing more was said until they were close enough that two cats leaning against the walls of the houses twitched their ears and looked up at them. One of them got to their feet and nodded to the other, who limped off into the cobweb of stone.

“Thank the stars you’re here,” the cat said when they were within earshot. Fernstar recognized her as Frostclaw, one of the patrollers sent as a relay for the spies. “It all went horrible, Fernstar. It was so sudden…”

“We heard fighting.” Fernstar stopped to dip her head respectfully to the white molly. “Is anyone badly hurt?”

Frostclaw’s eyes squeezed shut with grief. “We lost Striderfoot.”

The Fleet members with Fernstar all gasped or cried out in anger. Only the plain grey molly at Viceroyclaw’s side remained silent. She bowed her head, and Fernstar saw her claws dig into what little earth could be found in the cracks of the stone.

“I’m sorry, Fogpetal, ma’am,” Frostclaw said to this molly. “It all came out of nowhere. Everyone was fighting. It was chaos. And then Striderfoot, she jumped on someone, and her head hit a wall when they fought back…”

 Fogpetal lifted her paw and Frostclaw fell silent. She looked at Fernstar, who gave one curt nod, and stepped forward. “Take me to Shreddednose. The rest of you, stay with Fernstar and Viceroyclaw.”

The Fleet deputy and Frostclaw trotted off and took a right around a corner. Fernstar lead everyone into the settlement.

It was somehow packed full of cats and felt incredibly empty at the same time. There was no laughing or friendly tussling here; cats sat in small clumps of three or four, grooming each other’s wounds or staring ahead mournfully. Some whispered to each other so quietly that Fernstar could not catch what they were saying. It took a long time for anyone to notice the newcomers, and Fernstar was surprised that, even when they did, no one jumped to their feet or greeted them.

“Where is Redheart?” Fernstar called into the clearing.

“Gone,” someone murmured to her left. “She took a bunch of cats and just left.”

Fernstar twisted her neck fast enough to hurt her and she stared at them. “She left?”

The cat lifted a paw and pushed outward. “Walked off with that healer and his brother. Some other cats, too.”

The crew behind Fernstar shuffled and muttered confusion. Fernstar gestured with her tail and they split off in all directions to sniff around and ask questions. Viceroyclaw stuck to her side, as usual.

“The brother of Greyleaf is gone,” Fernstar repeated to the cat. “Who else?”

The cat sighed. “I’unno. An apprentice, that blind molly-“

“Why didn’t you tell me Fernstar was here?!”

Snowshine came skidding around a corner and scrabbled on the stone, rushing to Fernstar and skidding to a stop. She bobbed her head over and over, fur mud-stained and puffed out, looking nothing like the earnest and proper little seer that Fernstar usually knew.

“I’m sorry, Fernstar, I tried to get someone to stop her, I had my suspicions, and I didn’t follow up on them, I should have, I’m sorry-“

Viceroyclaw cleared her throat and Snowshine faltered, tumbling off her rambling with a few half-started words. She fidgeted nervously, looking between the much larger calico and the ginger molly about her size.

Fernstar kept her composure, though she felt agitation sinking into her pelt as it came off of Snowshine in waves. “Slow down and start from the beginning.”

“Of course.” Snowshine nodded quickly and took a breath. “Redheart heard you were on your way – I found out about the mission, I should say, and I was going to help, however I could-“

Fernstar blinked slowly.

“Anyway-“ Snowshine cleared her throat. “She tried to get everyone to leave immediately, but the Clast got angry, and I tried to get her to stay, or at least have someone catch her and keep her here until you arrived, but her traveling crew, they attacked and a fight broke out. She ran with Greyleaf, but she came back, I don’t know why. She was saying nonsense about StarClan and told everyone to follow her if they wanted to know ‘the truth’, and your spies all went with her.”

Fernstar felt Viceroyclaw look at her in surprise, waiting for her reaction. She took a moment to absorb the story before responding. “And where are they now?”

“I don’t know.” Snowshine’s fidgets got more intense. “I told everyone to catch her and Greyleaf, but no one did anything. They took an apprentice and a random warrior with them, but all the spies are gone too – Mistface and the others.”

“And she killed Striderfoot?” Viceroyclaw asked quietly.

“No, someone else did, on accident-“ Snowshine’s fur took on a sharper look, even as puffed out as it was. “But she might as well have. She was trying to get everyone to leave the Territory with her, and she said StarClan is- I couldn’t believe- she said it’s a monster! She’s talking pure madness now!” Snowshine leaned forward, eyes wide enough to pop out of her head. “And that stupid healer agreed with her! So they dragged off six cats, including an apprentice, Fernstar, a child!”

“I heard you the first time,” Fernstar said, trying to restrain the edge in her voice. She looked to Viceroyclaw. “Get some more information from the others.”

Viceroyclaw nodded uncomfortably and reluctantly shuffled off across the clearing. Fernstar didn’t usually force her to talk to others, but she knew that Snowshine’s account was drastically colored.

Someone cleared their throat. “If you like…”

Fernstar turned around. A sleek silver tom had slunk up behind her.

“Who are you?” Fernstar narrowed her eyes. 

He smiled in an as transparently charming way as he could. “My name is Starkfeather, my leader. If you like, I can give you information, too.”

 ---

 “What do you make of it?”

Fogpetal and Viceroyclaw stood together with Fernstar in the center of the clearing. The rest of the patrol had returned with similar stories: Redheart rushing to get everyone out, the patrollers trying to arrest her, a battle engaging, a death, the strange speech about StarClan, and Redheart and Greyleaf departing with six other cats. Starkfeather had provided that the apprentice was a former seer-in-training, daughter of a Hillock seer (“horribly poor apprentice, may I say”), and that she had taken a cat named Flyfang with her.

Fernstar lifted her chin a little, eyes unfocused as she considered her options. The two deputies looked at her curiously, and the rest of the patrol were sitting around Striderfoot’s body, paying their respects.

“It sounds like we’ll need to bring the two of them in for questioning,” Fernstar deliberated. “I want to question the spies as well. Perhaps we don’t need to arrest them, but I certainly need to discuss them breaking on their mission.”

Fogpetal tilted her head in thought. “We did have Darkpelt saying she wanted to see it through. Perhaps they’re keeping an eye on Redheart while getting more information.”

“I’d like to think that.” Fernstar straightened up and turned to walk away, beckoning the other mollies with her tail. They followed her to the patrollers, where not just her party, but the relay patrollers sat in a ring. All of them looked up at her slowly when she cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry for Striderfoot’s death,” she said. “But I think I’ll require the assistance of your party, Shreddednose. We’re going to track this group down and bring them to the leaders’ den, and I don’t know how much they’ll resist.”

A golden tom’s ears slid back and his muzzle wrinkled. “I’d be happy to give that rot deputy some return on what she let happen.”

“Count me in,” Frostclaw added. A couple other cats agreed alongside her.

Shreddednose looked down at Striderfoot. “We need to bury her, before we do anything else.”

“Of course,” Fogpetal said gently. “If I remember right, her request was somewhere in the open.”

Fernstar gave Fogpetal an appreciative look. The Fleet were always like a family, and this deputy had taken great care to get to know each member, of which there were many. It was such a tight-knit group that they usually handled each other’s burials, instead of whatever actual family they had come from. Even Phoebestar, their leader, was much closer to them than any of the other leaders were to their families.

“It was,” Shreddednose said, her voice husky. She cleared her throat and spoke more clearly, but the pain in her eyes did not go away. “If we may, Fernstar-“

“Just a moment.” Fernstar moved forward and touched her nose to Striderfoot’s side. “We thank you for your service, Striderfoot, and we mourn your loss. Rest well in StarClan.”

This leader’s blessing seemed to ease the Fleet members, and slowly they shifted around until Striderfoot was hoisted on several of their backs. The group moved off together, Fogpetal taking the lead.

Fernstar watched them go, feeling some hurt of her own. Not just for the loss of an innocent cat – she silently grieved for the loss of a deputy that had so much promise that Fernstar had expected her to take her place as leader one day, and of a brilliant healer that she had personally voted for to serve the leaders and high deputies.

“Phoebestar is going to be furious,” Viceroyclaw murmured in her ear, bringing her back into focus.

“We’ll send Mintseed to tell her,” Fernstar said quietly. “Or at least relay to another messenger. I want at least one with us to keep the other leaders updated.”

Viceroyclaw nodded. “Boarpaw will be happy to find a relay for us. He’s capable. I think he can track us down again.”

Fernstar said nothing. She just turned to face the majority of the cats and raised her voice.

“If Redheart returns,” she called in the clearing, “I want everyone here to keep her in place and send word to me or the other leaders. Greyleaf gets the same treatment. Do not be violent with them. Just ensure they stay put.”