The clerics breathe easy for a bit as Leathermask, Waspdawn, and Vasco all leave their care. Still, Troutpool has to explain to Midnightpaw that his eyesight is failing and may worsen over the moons. At least he can somewhat see.
[Image ID: Vasco, Waspdawn, and Leathermask wander off in the background while Troutpool talks to Midnightpaw. Under Vasco and Waspdawn, it says - CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH (X2). Under Leathermask, it says - CONDITION: TORN PELT. In the foreground, Midnightpaw has scars over his left eye, turning it white and blind. Under him, it reads - CONDITION: DAMAGED EYES, + PERMANENT CONDITION: FAILING EYESIGHT, + NEW SKILL: CONFIDENT WITH WORDS.]
(Vasco: 15, female, Witch Hunter, lonesome, great kitsitter)
(Waspdawn: 70, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)
(Leathermask: 52, male, warrior, confident, good fighter, eloquent speaker)
(Troutpool: 65, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight, good climber)
The frostbite Weevilsight sustained has left its mark on her face, making her feel odd compared to other clerics.
[Image ID: Anchovystrike stands in front of Weevilsight, who has frostbite scars on her face. He growls at Spikecrash, "The scars make my mate look more like herself, not some murderous coward. Morningpaw should know better!" Spikecrash replies tactfully, "Morningpaw meant nothing by the Autumnstar comment." Under Weevilsight, it says - CONDITION: FROSTBITE.]
(Spikecrash: 79, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)
(Anchovystrike: 39, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)
(Weevilsight: 39, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
Darkkick welcomes Rapidleaf to the elderâs den. Meanwhile, Weevilsight and Anchovystrike decide to have a litter together.
[Image ID: Rapidleaf talks to Darkkick as Weevilsight and Anchovystrike return to camp. Darkkick whispers, "I think I know where those two wentâŠ" Under Weevilsight, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT.]
(Darkkick: 152, trans female, elder, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)
(Anchovystrike: 39, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)
(Weevilsight: 39, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
Berrykit, Sunkit, and Skykit pester Gingerspring and the other clerics.
[Image ID: Berrykit, Sunkit, and Skykit all have their full kit sprites, and they all face Gingerspring, who yowls "Estherfern! Remind me not to have kits!" Estherfern, walking in the background, yowls, "I have no sympathy!" Under Berrykit, it says + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF STORIES. Under Sunkit, it says + NEW SKILL: QUICK WITTED. Under Skykit, it says + NEW SKILL: SPLASHES IN PUDDLES.]
(Berrykit: 1, male, kit, bullying, lover of stories)
(Sunkit: 1, male, kit, fearless, quick witted)
(Skykit: 1, female, kit, know-it-all, splashes in puddles)
(Gingerspring: 20, male, cleric, charismatic, human expert, good hunter)
(Estherfern: 138, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
Thundergale is a good aunt and spends time with her sisterâs kits.
[Image ID: Lightkit, Snakekit, and Fuzzykit listen to their aunt Thundergale while Goldenkit stands behind Thundergale. The kits all have their full kit sprites. Snakekit cries, "Thundergale, Goldenkit is copying you!" even though Thundergale can't hear her. Under Lightkit, it says + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF ART. Under Snakekit, it says + NEW SKILL: QUICK TO MAKE PEACE. Under Fuzzykit, it says + NEW SKILL: STARES AT FIRE. Under Goldenkit, it says + NEW SKILL: CHEWS ON STICKS.]
(Lightkit: 1, female, kit, daydreamer, lover of art)
(Snakekit: 1, female, kit, polite, quick to make peace)
(Fuzzykit: 1, male, kit, unruly, stares at fire)
(Thundergale: 36, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)
(Goldenkit: 1, male, kit, bullying, chews on sticks)
Beepaw practices battle moves with Puddlewhisper, Morningpaw, and Icepounce, but he smacks his head against debris washed on-shore and knocks himself out.
[Image ID: Morningpaw, Puddlewhisper, and Icepounce stare at a pink silhouette lying on its side in the distance, blood pooling underneath. The silhouette is really Beepaw, with + CONDITION: HEAD DAMAGE written underneath. Puddlewhisper yowls, "Careful!" in vain.]
(Morningpaw: 8, male, teacher apprentice, confident, eye for details)
(Puddlewhisper: 70, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)
(Icepounce: 14, male, teacher, adventurous, fast as the wind, natural intuition)
Although Vasco wants to return home now that she feels better, Chicorycough and Sandhollow convince her to stay, at least until the epidemic is over.
[Image ID: Sandhollow and Chicorycough speak with Vasco. Sandhollow says, "We don't know how many Rat Leaders are infecting the settlement. It would be safer to wait it out."]
(Vasco: 15, female, Witch Hunter, lonesome, great kitsitter)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
The Witch Hunters find and kill Lemmy, leaving RippleClan in a strange state.
[Image ID: Darkkick, Terracottafoot, and Paleseed face Weevilsight. Paleseed says "Weevilsight?"]
Weevilsight nearly couldn't muster the energy for the Gathering. The last visit to StarClan's Shrine had been exhausting enough; Troutpool nearly cried when Trumpetspore didn't visit her dreams, and Weevilsight forgot her promise to Wolverineheart, to learn if Foampaw approved of her relationship with Mitespark, until just before the tortoiseshell cleric woke up. All the other clerics seemed forgiving of RippleClan's spaciness, yet Weevilsight dug her fangs into her lip and focused on her work. And part of that work was attending the Gathering.
Weevilsight and Honeybuzz were the only clerics accompanying the Clan to the Leader's Stone. Troutpool didn't want to face the official announcement of Trumpetspore's death, and Estherfern had to look after Gingerpaw, who somehow came up with the worst joke possible at Trumpetspore's vigil and was banned from the last winter Gathering. And thus, Weevilsight trailed within the middle of the RippleClan horde, following Downstar and Oilstripe along the SlugClan/WheatClan border. With Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver staying behind, Weevilsight found herself with a duo she rarely got to interact with.
"I don't care how old they get," Paleseed said, adjusting her feather decor as she walked, "Terracottafoot is always going to look like a tiny scared apprentice to me. I can't believe how much they've grown! It's been ages since we had a chance to sit down with them, hasn't it, Darkkick?"
"We talked with them at Harvest Moon," Darkkick scoffed, fluffing herself up against the cold night wind.
"That was five moons ago!" Paleseed pointed out. "Before all⊠that happened."
"I thought mediators weren't supposed to avoid sensitive topics," Darkkick hummed.
"I'm trying to be respectful," Paleseed said. Even though the gray mediator was on Darkkick's right, and Weevilsight walked on her left, Weevilsight still saw the strained glance Paleseed sent her way.
"Why mince words?" Weevilsight laughed, venom in her voice. "My mom killed our Clanmates, my dad died, my aunt killed herself. I'm sure Terracottafoot can offer you some comfort." Considering Darkkick's short stature, she and Paleseed looked like a stunned, two-headed beast in the moonlight, their gaits evenly matched as they bawked at Weevilsight.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told your friend after the Shardling incident," Darkkick eventually huffed. "You handled that as best you could."
"I know that, Darkkick," Weevilsight sighed, staring at the cloud-lined moon as she walked. "I'm just going to feel like foxdung for a while."
"And that's okay," Paleseed added with a decisive nod. "You do what you need to do to grieve and come to terms with it all. You can always talk to me."
"I think she needs a friend, not a mediator, Paleseed," Darkkick muttered.
"Both work," Weevilsight hummed as the Clan approached the rock wall leading up to the Leader's Stone. It was slick with snow, making RippleClan's approach a slow and methodical process. Rabbitjoy walked along the edge of the path up, guarding Frostpaw from a potential fall. Boughfur took Tallowheart's basket while the rock-footed tom inched up the wall. A clump of snow fell from the grass above and smacked onto Stormjump's head, earning a laugh from her mate. Weevilsight's paws felt lighter. It felt normal, for the first time all winter.
As usual, RippleClan was the last Clan to arrive. Ospreystar, Eelstar, Gentlestar, and Lettucestar waited on the Leader's Stone while their Clans waited for their cue to mingle and share tongues. Downstar climbed to the second-highest platform of the Leader's Stone while Oilstripe took her traditonal place among the other deputies. Weevilsight laid in the half-melted snow and stared lazily at the Leader's Stone. The sooner announcements were done, the better.
The winter had been hard on the other four Clans in more traditional ways. WheatClan lost an overeager apprentice in the cold and an elder to distemper. LynxClan reported on harsh conditions in their rocky territory and gave their neighbors an official plea for hunting assistance. SlugClan and AshClan were a bit quieter, reporting a new litter and a death each, but Weevilsight couldn't help but notice how Eelstar and Lettucestar glanced at Downstar as they spoke.
"Before you begin your report, Downstar," Ospreystar said just as Eelstar finished delivering his news, "I want to say something that I didn't get the chance to last moon, when you announced the death of Mosspounce." The brown-speckled leader stood taller and faced the five Clans. "I want to formally declare LynxClan's gratitude to Mosspounce of RippleClan for killing the cougar that nearly destroyed us moons ago. He delivered the fatal blow, and for that, we hope that his story is honored with the same respect as Cougarstrike, Celestial of Cougars. LynxClan will hold a place in our hearts for RippleClan's brave caretaker."
"Mosspounce! Mosspounce!" the LynxClan cats cheered. Weevilsight sat up. Her ears rang with the sound of her father's name. Some of Weevilsight's Clanmates took up the cheer as well; Carnationspeckle and Asterblaze were particularly vocal. Weevilsight stayed still, unconsciously holding her breath. Her father was a hero.
"Take it with a drop of mouse bile, Weevilsight," Darkkick warned as the cheers began to die down. "I'm sure they are grateful, but this wh ole show is likely planned to win Downstar's favor. I'm sure LynxClan will be asking us for something soon."
"Thank you, Ospreystar," Downstar purred. "It does an old soul good to know that my grandson's fatal wounds were obtained for a good cause. I'm afraid that isn't the end of RippleClan's recent string of loss, however." Downstar shifted and prepared herself for the news. Weevilsight sank back down. Paleseed dipped her head and closed her eyes. "I'm sure some of you have learned of this, whether through meetings at the border or at the historian's gathering hosted by SlugClan this new moon. However, I regret to inform you that Trumpetspore, my granddaughter, took her own life shortly after the last Gathering." Quiet, shocked gasps rippled through the clearing. Eyes pierced the RippleClan delegation. Weevilsight closed her eyes and pretended she was alone.
"I'm sorry, Downstar," Gentlestar gulped, placing a paw on Downstar's platform above her.
"We ask that you respect our privacy surrounding this event," Downstar continued, "and know that Trumpetspore did her best against what can be the worst enemy a warrior fights; their own heart." Mutters of agreement washed over Weevilsight. She prayed no one would pry her for information. "Outside of this loss, we have no Gathering-worthy news to report. I say we get on with the Gathering proper and try to enjoy ourselves tonight." The other leaders nodded along with Downstar's idea. With that, the Clans merged. A wave of friends from other Clans crashed into RippleClan, firing questions of concern and morbid curiosity. Weevilsight wasn't ready; Yellowburst bumped into her flank, knocking her into a WheatClan historian. Weevilsight stumbled back, one of her signature petals fluttering out of her pelt.
"Terracottafoot is over there!" Paleseed called, peering over the crowd. "This way!" Darkkick looped her tail around Weevilsight and gently nudged her toward Paleseed. Paleseed pierced the crowd, leaving a trail for Weevilsight and Darkkick to follow. Questions bounced off Paleseed's pelt. She deflected them with the skill of an expert mediator, offering polite, if not slightly dismissive, answers.
Terracottafoot, as was their habit, prepared a game of moss-ball to the side of the crowd. They set up small "dens", or overturned baskets, on either end of the massive play area and merged loose chunks of moss together. They scented the three RippleClan cats and turned to greet them. Weevilsight tried to imagine what Terracottafoot looked like as a "tiny scared apprentice". Sure, the AshClan cleric carried themself with a constant air of tension; they were always moving, whether through the twitch of their whiskers or the methodical wave of their tail. But they were mature, as well-muscled as a warrior and, much to Weevilsight's embarassment, as handsome as they came (oh how Honeybuzz teased her as an apprentice for that little crush).
"Hi, Paleseed," Terracottafoot chirped, touching noses with Paleseed. "StarClan, I'm happy to see you. I've wanted to say something about your sisters, but I didn't know what."
"I try to focus on the siblings I still have," Paleseed chuckled, licking her chest.
"Keeping out of trouble?" Darkkick hummed, staring Terracottafoot up and down.
"I do what I can," Terracottafoot said. They touched noses with the former AshClan cleric and turned to Weevilsight. "Cleric Weevilsight, you didn't tell me about Warrior Trumpetspore at the half-moon meeting. Is that why Cleric Troutpool was so upset?"
"We didn't want to make the meeting all about us," Weevilsight sighed. Her paw absently snagged Terracottafoot's moss-ball and rolled it under her paw.
"I'm sorry about that, regardless," Terracottafoot said. They glanced past the RippleClan cats and groaned, "Oh StarClan he's already telling Downstar." Weevilsight looked back. Eelstar spoke with Downstar on the Leader's Stone. Both seemed deeply serious.
"Telling her what?" Darkkick huffed.
"I'm not a storyteller," Terracottafoot gulped, "but there were these Witch Hunters at our border and they told us⊠uh⊠do you want their story or the summary?"
"Tell us what they told you," Paleseed suggested.
"Well," Terracottafoot groaned. They stared at Darkkick, gaze pointedly refusing to touch Weevilsight. "Apparently Lemmy showed up in the human settlement last moon. One of the Witch Hunters picked a fight with her, and, well, that Witch Hunter ended up dead. The Witch Hunters were really mad at that, I think the dead Witch Hunter just had kits and the humans took them away? I can't remember that part. But, um, the Witch Hunter General ordered them to find Lemmy, and they did⊠Lemmy's dead now." The words didn't quite reach Weevilsight's ears.
"Say that again?" Weevilsight said, rubbing her ears.
"The Witch Hunters killed Lemmy," Terracottafoot said. "I think their patrol thought we were RippleClan? We didn't get a chance to explain. They showed up a few days ago. I'm really sorry, Weevilsight." Weevilsight's claws pierced the moss-ball. The chatter of the Gathering clawed her ears. Her heart beat faster.
"Weevilsight?" Paleseed whispered. She reached a paw toward Weevilsight, but Darkkick pushed it down.
Lemmy's dead. Lemmy's dead. Lemmy's dead.
Mom's dead.
"Stars damn it!" Weevilsight yowled. She chucked the moss-ball as hard and as fast as she could. It smacked into the basket and sent it rolling toward the treeline. "I want to kill someone!"
"Weevilsightâ" Paleseed and Terracottafoot both stammered.
"Shut up, both of you," Darkkick snapped, shoving her tail in front of the pair. "Let her be."
"She made mistakes!" Weevilsight groaned. "Stupid, awful mistakes, it got out of control!" She paced in a circle, as though trying to get comfortable in a nest. "She wasn't a monster! She wanted to keep me safe! They didn't have to kill her! StarClan, she never even knew Dad died! Why did this happen? Why did she have to kill Potterypool? I can't even decide if I love her or hate her! Augh!" Weevilsight sat in a huff, tail thrashing. She stared at the snowy ground, head spinning. Her jaw dug into her head so hard, she thought she'd break a tooth.
Paleseed crept past Darkkick and toward the rolling basket. She put a paw on the basket, stopping its retreat. She plucked the moss-ball from inside and stared at it. Her tail waved gently as she thought.
"Terracottafoot?" Paleseed asked. "Do you have any AshClan cats who'd like to play against RippleClan in a game of moss-ball?"
"I can ask around," Terracottafoot said hesistantly, still inching toward Weevilsight. "Shouldn't we helpâ"
"I don't need help, Terracottafoot," Weevilsight huffed at the ground, voice monotone.
"I seem to recall you being good with a moss-ball as a kit," Paleseed said. She tossed the moss-ball to Weevilsight. It rolled to a stop in front of her paws. "Want to put that rage of yours to good use? It would be an insult to Clan pride if we let AshClan beat us."
"Go get your Clan, kit," Darkkick scoffed. Terracottafoot cocked their head, but eventually sighed, chuckling at the same time. They jogged toward the larger crowd.
"For our players, I think we should recruitâŠ" Paleseed hummed, studying the Gathering. "Boughfur, Stormjump, Yellowburst, Shrewflame, and Wolverineheart." Darkkick nodded along with Paleseed's assessment. "So, Weevilsight? Want to join?" Weevilsight gently snagged the moss-ball in her claws. She held it up to the light of the bonfire by the Leader's Stone. Did the color match Mosspounce's eyes? They had been so scarred at the end, Weevilsight almost couldn't rememberâŠ
"Let's kill these foxhearts," Weevilsight growled, tossing the moss-ball back to Paleseed.
"Metaphorically, though!" Paleseed chuckled awkwardly. "I'll go get the others." Paleseed passed the moss-ball to Darkkick and followed Terracottafoot's trail. Weevilsight sat next to Darkkick, unable to stop her thrashing tail.
"I'll help you hide the bodies," Darkkick chuckled.
A short time later, Weevilsight stood with her Clanmates in front of one of the baskets. Somehow, it seemed the whole group managed to escape the fog of grief imposed by Trumpetspore's death and laughed like kits as they prepared for the game. A gaggle of AshClan cats guarded the other basket across the clearing, throwing taunts toward the RippleClan cats. Paleseed and Terracottafoot stood in the middle, moss-ball sitting between them. A crowd of apprentices and warriors from the other Clans gathered to watch as they shared tongues.
"If it's been a while since any of you have played an organized game of moss-ball," Paleseed explained, "let us remind you. You are each on a patrol of seven cats, facing off against another patrol. Your job is to get the moss-ball past the enemy patrol and into their den, in this case the basket, to score points. No holding the moss-ball in your mouth, you have to catch it in your claws and toss it to your patrol members. If the other patrol has the moss-ball, you need to either make them drop it or grab it out of their paws, again, no teeth allowed. And no den guarding, you have to give the other patrol a chance to throw the moss-ball in. For this game, let's say⊠first to fifteen points wins. Any questions?"
"Do we have to be gentle with the cleric?" a dark red molly asked, nodding at Weevilsight.
"I won't be gentle with you," Weevilsight growled, ears tilted back. An excited bark of laughter and cheering rippled through the bystanders. The AshClan patrol laughed and yowled along with them.
"What about Darkkick?" asked a black and white tom, barely out of apprenticeship. "I feel bad fighting an elder."
"Darkkick fought Autumnstar, in the actual Dark Forest," Boughfur laughed, unweaving the blue flowers from her fur and placing them to the side of the game area. "I don't think you should be worried about hurting her, of all cats."
"Ready to run back to camp with your tails between your legs?" Shrewflame called, his tail high.
"I'm ready to feed you dirt, pretty kitty!" yowled the dark red molly.
"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" Shrewflame purred, wiggling his flank. "Why thank you!" Stormjump and Yellowburst laughed at Shrewflame, starting a wave of giggles across the crowd.
"Everyone go at my command!" Terracottafoot yowled, jogging out of the soon-to-be battlefield with Paleseed, leaving the moss-ball behind. All players shifted into battle poses. Weevilsight copied them as best she could. All eyes were on the moss-ball.
"Darkkick, stay in the back," Yellowburst whispered. "You can catch the moss-ball before it gets to the den."
"And miss out on clawing some AshClan fur?" Darkkick snapped in just such a way that Weevilsight couldn't tell if she was mad or teasing. "There's no chance of that."
As the pair argued, the AshClan patrol sparkled in Weevilsight's eyes. Ghostly doubles of the AshClan warriors launched toward the moss-ball. Sparkling premonitions of Weevilsight's Clanmates charged at the approaching patrol in return. Wolverineheart's future transparent form shoved into the dark red molly's shoulder. Her attack gave the black and white tom just enough time to slip around the charging enemy force and snatch the moss-ball in his claws. Weevilsight hadn't even seen that tom in the mass of cats yet-to-charge.
"Attack!" Terracottafoot cheered. Weevilsight's vision popped like seafoam. History repeated itself; the AshClan patrol ran at the moss-ball like stampeding horses. Wolverineheart led the RippleClan charge. No one noticed the black and white tom, running low against his taller Clanmates. He was invisible in the rush of fire-lit pelts. An afterimage of the tom's future position still flashed in Weevilsight's eyes.
Weevilsight lunged toward the empty space. Just as she neared it, just as she began to doubt her sight, there he was; the black and white tom, swooping past Wolverineheart to grab the moss-ball. Weevilsight smacked into him a whisker's length from the moss-ball. Weevilsight and the black and white tom tumbled back into the mass of swarming cats, each shocked at the other's appearance.
Stormjump rolled behind Weevilsight and snatched the moss-ball. She flicked her paw and sent the moss-ball soaring across the clearing. Shrewflame darted alongside the flying object. He jumped as though catching a bird mid-flight. Both front paws wrapped around the moss-ball.
Another premonition flashed within the mass of playful warriors. Shrewflame's ghostly paw launched a purple transparent moss-ball toward the AshClan den. A lilac and cream tortoiseshell streaked past her Clanmates and caught the moss-ball against her shoulder.
"Run with it, Shrewflame!" Weevilsight yowled as the black and white tom finally shoved her off. She fell onto her back, staring at the cloud-speckled night while the rest of the group hurried past her. All of the petals that clung to her pelt rubbed off in the snow and grass.
Weevilsight hurried back to her paws, only to see she was too late; the lilac and cream tortoiseshell stopped the moss-ball with her shoulder, just as predicted. But would Weevilsight let that go? Absolutely not. She had to sit by while her mother was exiled, while her father died, while her Clan suffered not under the claws of some Spirit of Shadow, something Weevilsight was born to fight, but mortals and the dangers of the everyday. She didn't have to let this go.
Weevilsight was not going to lose this game.
Weevilsight scrambled as the AshClan tortoiseshell tossed the moss-ball to the dark red molly. Darkkick thundered past Weevilsight, catching the eye of the dark red molly. Weevilsight yowled and sprung at the dark red molly. Weevilsight's sheathed paws batted the dark red molly's head. The dark red molly swung at Weevilsight, but the moss-ball slipped from her claws in the process. Darkkick swiped it from underneath the fighting mollies and batted it back toward the AshClan den. The dark red molly turned to follow, but Weevilsight shrieked and dragged the AshClan molly back by the tail. Her mouth burned with the taste of cat fur, that awful scent of combat that she still despised after so many moons, but the thoughtless rage bubbling in her throat forced her to remind herself, training grip, training grip, training grip.
A cheer ripped through the bystanders. Weevilsight let go of the dark red molly's tail. Boughfur had jumped into the AshClan den, moss-ball stuck to her claws. She looked like a rabbit crawling into a hole. Weevilsight laughed, but it was more like the cauterwaul of a rabid beast than anything funny.
"Clerics are mad," the dark red molly grumbled, hurrying back to her Clanmates.
Mad? Oh that was the right word for Weevilsight at the moment, as her patrol cheerfully regrouped by their den for the next round. Weevilsight was certain the actual grief would hit her when she got back to camp. But in that moment, with the freedom to run and scream and tackle and fight? Weevilsight could be as mad as she needed to be.
(Weevilsight: 27, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
[Image ID: Midnightkit and Valleykit face Carnationspeckle, both in trouble. Midnightkit says "Why didn't Rattlepelt come get me?" Under Midnightkit, it says + NEW SKILL: ALWAYS WANDERING. Under Valleykit, it says + NEW SKILL: AVID PLAY-FIGHTER.]
SlugClan attacks RippleClan in hopes of recovering Icekit and Pearkit for their newest members, Nimblestep and Quickkit.
[Image ID: Lettucestar, a white tom with a scar, and Lighttrail face Downstar, Wolverineheart, Wildclaw, Yarrowclaw, and Leathermask. Lettucestar says, "I'm sorry, Downstar, but I can't take no for an answer. Nimblestep is their mother, not Puddlewhisper." Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 1. Under Leathermask, it says LEVEL UP! NERVOUS â CONFIDENT.[
---
Downstar could tell it would be a late spring as she stepped out of her den on the last day of the year and into the thick, dry snow. It had snowed from one sunset and through another without stopping, leaving snowdrifts as tall as cats against the rocks and trees. It wasn't a bitter cold, though, like the one that plagued the Clans a few moons prior. This was a cold that energized Downstar's aching muscles and told the whole Clan to have a bit of fun!
The kits were certainly taking advantage of the heavy snowfall. Pearkit and Icekit dug at the snow like dogs while Midnightkit and Valleykit watched, wide-eyed. Stormjump groomed herself outside the warrior's den in a pale attempt to hide her watchful eye resting on the kits. The clerics cleared snow out from around the medicine den, but there was a shine to their eyes that brought a purr to Downstar's throat. Gingerpaw rambled to Weevilsight as the pair dug a path from the medicine den to the bonfire. Weevilsight laughed at one of Gingerpaw's silly faces, further easing Downstar's heart. If the recent heartbreak of the season could be forgotten, even for a moment, there was hope for RippleClan.
There was no hope of telling the time that day, save for the natural rhythm of day and night inside every cat. The sky was an endless silver expanse. Not a single cloud could be distinguished from another. It was as gray as a clear day's sky was blue. The unbroken bright light reflected off the snow stunned Downstar's eyes. Were it not for her nose, she might have bumped into Oilstripe, who trotted toward the leader's den.
"Good morning, Downstar," Oilstripe reported, ears perking up in front of her leader. "We have a few patrols out already. Vervaincough and Darkkick joined Billowhaze, Whitepaw, and Boughfur on an expedition to study the snow, but they promised to mark the southern border while they were there. Carnationspeckle, Tallowheart, and Drumtooth are fishing along the northern coast. Lastly, Rabbitjoy took Mitespark and Frostpaw to trade with WheatClan. They'll be gone the longest."
"Busy morning," Downstar hummed.
"Everyone wants to be out of camp today," Oilstripe sighed, stretching her front legs.
"I can manage the camp if you want to lead a patrol," Downstar said. She flicked her ears toward the camp exit. "This will likely be our last bit of snow until next winter."
"That's alright, Downstar," Oilstripe said a bit too quickly. "We have a lot to clear out of camp. I should manage that." Downstar grabbed Oilstripe's gaze and didn't let go. She studied her deputy's cyan eyes, so strangely blessed. Oilstripe's whiskers twitched uncomfortably, unable to view Downstar's thoughts as easily as she viewed hers.
"It's no good to have a distracted deputy," Downstar said. She sat in the curve of the Shiprock where the snow was thinner. "You're lingering around camp for another reason. Deputies should be open with their leaders."
"I can't tell if you're teasing me or reprimanding me," Oilstripe sighed. She sat next to Downstar, her focus drifting past her leader. The only sign of Downstar's hesistancy was the shift of her tail; she knew when she chose Oilstripe that she'd have to tolerate her ghost sight and the weird, almost blaphemous intrusion into the privacy of the visiting dead. She was good at that by now, and with a hard blink to wipe her mind, Downstar focused back on Oilstripe.
"It's about Rattlepelt," Oilstripe groaned. "I don't want to leave her alone." Downstar eyed the nursery. The snow's reflected light easily showed Rattlepelt and Wildclaw inside the den, still asleep. Wildclaw snuggled deep into Rattlepelt's fox pelt, and Rattlepelt shifted closer to her mate.
"I hope you remember you aren't the only other member of RippleClan," Downstar gently reminded her deputy. "There's always someone in camp."
"I'm not doubting anyone," Oilstripe said. She flexed her paw, poking tiny holes in the snow. The gentle motion gave her time to find her courage. "I'm scared for her, Downstar."
"Do you think she could harm herself?" Downstar asked. She regretted the question as soon as she said it. She never would have thought something like that a moon ago. But then again, a moon ago Downstar still had her granddaughter. Oilstripe caught her breath.
"No," she huffed. "No⊠but then again, I didn't think Trumpetspore could, either. I don't think I can truly judge what's in someone's heart."
"Blame is a weight I've borne for far too many circumstances outside of my control. Don't let it crush you."
"But don't I deserve some of the blame? We're leading this Clan, Downstar. When someone dies like this, what does it say about us? And what about Lemmy? Could we have stopped her?"
"You're rambling, Oilstripe." Downstar raised her tail to pause her deputy's spiraling thoughts. "I'm going to tell you something that it took me a long time to learn. If you did the best you could with what you knew, then blaming yourself is useless." Oilstripe breathed deep, nodding along with Downstar's advice.
"I'll try to remember that," Oilstripe sighed.
"So," Downstar huffed, getting up, "do you think Rattlepelt needs an extra eye on her?"
"I think she's struggling," Oilstripe said, picking her words carefully. "It's like what happened after the Shardling incident. I don't want this to hurt Rattlepelt's relationship with Wildclaw or their kits. Rattlepelt didn't even leave the nursery to check on Midnightkit yesterday." Yes, Downstar had noted that; out of the two mothers, Wildclaw was usually the one with an eye on Midnightkit and Valleykit as of late, and when she went on patrol, Midnightkit tried to follow. It hadn't been Downstar's place to comment on Rattlepelt's absence, but everyone noticed it.
"As the mother of your daughter-in-code rather than your leader," Downstar sighed, "don't worry about how Wildclaw feels. I'll take her out. Try not to worry. We'll help Rattlepelt as best we can." Downstar touched her nose to Oilstripe's head. Oilstripe gawked at the touch for a moment, eyes widening. She then purred and dipped her head. Her whole body softened. Downstar's work there was done; now onto her daughter.
Downstar left Oilstripe to her thoughts and entered the nursery. Her paws trapsing through the snow quickly woke Wildclaw. The scarred gray tabby lifted her head off her mate and yawned deeply. Her scar-lined tail swayed lazily.
"Wildclaw, I'm taking a sunrise patrol to mark our northwest borders," Downstar explained in a whisper. "I want you to come with. I'll even let you pick out who we bring."
"I'll be right there," Wildclaw grumbled, still yawning and blinking sleep from her eyes. She crawled over Rattlepelt, stretching her hind legs so high they nearly eclipsed her head. Rattlepelt shifted and threw a paw over her eyes. Wildclaw glanced back to her mate and whispered, "Rattlepelt, I'm going on patrol. The kits are playing outside. Do you need anything?"
"I can get it," Rattlepelt mumbled. She squirmed under her red pelt, but didn't get up. Downstar softly padded back out as Wildclaw whispered something else her aging ears could not catch.
Downstar trailed through camp, navigating around the kits' digging, and waited by the exit for her daughter. A few moments later, Wildclaw emerged from the nursery and jogged to the warrior's den, nodding to Stormjump as she passed. She seemed like the reckless young molly Downstar remembered from so many years ago, but there was a wisdom to her step and a thought in her eyes. Yes, Downstar did not need to worry about Wildclaw. The fierceness her named honored was truly something to respect now.
Some time later, Wildclaw joined Downstar at the exit with Wolverineheart, Yarrowclaw, and Leathermask. Downstar wasted no time leading the patrol into the cheerful winter. Wildclaw slipped beside her mother and pranced through the snow like a deer. Soft winds blew powdery snow off the trees, making it look like a second snowfall. The snow retained the memory of the wind in its swirling, smooth edges and gentle dance across the ground. The smell of Carnationspeckle's patrol drifted past, a soft reminder that they were never alone in RippleClan territory.
"You know who Midnightkit and Valleykit remind me of?" Downstar said as the patrol trekked through the forest. "You and Halibutdusk."
"Really?" Wildclaw huffed. "I don't see it."
"Midnightkit is going to be just as troublesome as you were, I'm certain of it," Downstar chuckled. "Valleykit has Halibutdusk's pensiveness."
"Valleykit just learned what birds are," Wildclaw laughed. "I think you might be insulting Halibutdusk there."
"They fit into our family, that's what I mean," Downstar hummed, studying Wildclaw's face. "You and Rattlepelt have done a good job so far. Just like you did with Shrewflame and Whitepaw. You'll all be alright in the end."
"I know, Mom," Wildclaw assured her. Her ears tilted back for a moment as she added, "I just need Rattlepelt to believe that."
"You've been through worse," Downstar reminded her. She stopped to rub an irritating itch on her back against a pine. "If you keep doing what you have been doing, it will work out."
"Downstar!" The whole patrol paused, ears high. Pale gray markings framed the green eyes of the tom who emerged from the depths of the forest. Lettucestar? His deputy, Lighttrail, walked alongside him, all thick ginger fur and confidence.
"Stop right there!" Wildclaw barked. She dove between Downstar and Lettucestar, lips curled tight and her body slithering like a rattlesnake ready to strike.
"This has to be a joke," Wolverineheart scoffed. "I get you're a Clan leader, but you can't just stroll into our territory without an escort!"
"Do you want to get attacked?" Yarrowclaw growled, showing off her fangs.
"Wait, wait," Downstar huffed. She pushed through her protective Clanmates, tail high to still their sudden fury. "Let me talk to him." Leathermask bristled, back arched high as Downstar approached the SlugClan leader. Wolverineheart and Yarrowclaw kept their claws out, but gave Downstar her room. Wildclaw stayed where she was, face curling in and out of battle rage.
"I know I'm intruding on your territory," Lettucestar huffed, keeping his tail low as a show of peace. "Waiting by the border would have been inappropriate. In a sad way, my purpose here isn't much different from the war patrol you brought to my camp almost a year ago." There was a mild venom in Lettucestar's voice that made Downstar's ears grow hot with old grief.
"Except Downstar's not losing her mind," Yarrowclaw grumbled.
"Yarrowclaw, you will not disrespect Gorgestar's memory in front of me," Downstar suddenly growled, turning on the brown and white molly. Yarrowclaw stiffened under Downstar's amber glare. "He was a good leader and my friend. You of all cats should know better than to make a joke of something like that." Yarrowclaw stared down, unmoving under Downstar's assault. Downstar bit back a hiss of frusteration; why in the world did Yarrowclaw have to make a comment like that? Now Downstar seemed like a weak leader! She would handle Yarrowclaw's coldness later; she had intruders to manage.
"It's once again an issue of miscommunication," Lettucestar sighed. "Lighttrail, you're the better storyteller of the two of us. Explain the situation to Downstar and her warriors." Lighttrail stepped forward, clearing his throat. He looked like a kit in Downstar's eyes. Then again, at Downstar's age, most cats looked like kits.
"Recently, SlugClan encounter a loner queen and her kit by the river," Lighttrail said. "The kit was sick with feather-head, so we offered to provide treatment. The queen grew to trust us, and the pair decided to join SlugClan. They are now known as Nimblestep and Quickkit, though you would have known the queen as simply Nimble." Nimble. So much had happened that winter, Downstar almost forgot that Puddlewhisper was not Pearkit and Icekit's birth mother.
"Wait," Leathermask grunted. "Nimble joined SlugClan? No, she hates the Clans."
"Her mate hated the Clans," Lighttrail said with the patience of a mentor with their apprentice. Downstar couldn't stop her jaw from tightening at the tone. "Nimblestep supported and followed Achilles, but once she understood we only wanted to help Quickkit, she learned to trust us."
"It's not like we didn't try to do that!" Wolverineheart whined. "She wouldn't listen to us!"
"Your Clanmates murdered Achilles in cold blood," Lighttrail scoffed, twitching his whiskers. "Would you listen to yourselves?"
"No more comments, all of you," Downstar hissed, thrashing her tail. This was no time to be debating the details.
"She told us about her other kits, Downstar," Lettucestar finally sighed. "A silver tom and a pale ginger molly. They're Icekit and Pearkit, aren't they?" Wildclaw paced behind Downstar. Her jaw twitched with unspoken words. Her paws crunched heavily into the snow, turning it to slush.
"They are," Downstar admitted. "Nimble ranâNimblestep ran from our patrol, but only took a brown kit. Quickkit, I assume. She abandoned the rest of her litter."
"A mistake she wants to correct," Lettucestar said, stepping closer to Downstar. "We're here to take Icekit and Pearkit back to their mother."
"Take?" Downstar and Wildclaw yowled in unison. Lighttrail unseathed his claws and crouched into a battle stance. Lettucestar hovered his tail over his deputy's shoulder. Downstar steadied her breath and grounded her paws flat, letting the cold sap her sudden anger.
"Lettucestar, Icekit and Pearkit are RippleClan cats now," Downstar said slowly. "All they've known is RippleClan. Puddlewhisper is raising them. Taking them would be cruel. Nimblestep abandoned them to what she thought would be their deaths. How can we trust she has their best intentions at heart?"
"She's a SlugClan warrior now," Lettucestar said, his words just as slow and restrained as Downstar's tone. "We will help her raise the kits, just as I'm sure your caretakers help Puddlewhisper."
"I'm happy to discuss Nimblestep visiting our camp," Downstar huffed. "If she wants a relationship with Icekit and Pearkit, I don't want to deny her that. But simply taking them? They aren't prey. Do you think they'd ever be loyal to SlugClan if you forced them from their home?" Lettucestar sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and pulled his tail away from Lighttrail. His claws peeked out of his paws. The RippleClan patrol slunk closer to Downstar.
"Warriors!" Lettucestar yowled. The snow behind Lettucestar shifted. Pelts peeked out from the white and gray terrain, shoving off snowy coverings and emerging from behind trees and rocks. The RippleClan patrol hissed and snarled. There was an entire war patrol of SlugClan cats, hiding just fox-lengths away! The SlugClan warriors glistened with snow melting into their fur. Narrow eyes bore into Downstar, ready to tear and bite.
"I'm sorry, Downstar," Lettucestar sighed, shifting into a battle stance, "but I can't take no for an answer. Nimblestep is their mother, not Puddlewhisper. You can't claim her kits. I wanted us to agree on this, but if you won't take us to your camp, we'll just go through you."
"Yarrowclaw, warn camp, now!" Downstar yowled. Yarrowclaw leaped over Leathermask and skidded across the snow. She raced like a rabbit along the patrol's snowy prints, tail weaving between the trees.
"Don't let her get reinforcements!" Lettucestar ordered. Half of the SlugClan patrol bolted after Yarrowclaw, stomping and kicking their way through the snow. Leathermask yowled and launched himself into a lilac tortie, the war-hungry Carvingfur. The pair rolled back behind an ancient pine.
"Wolverineheart, help Yarrowclaw!" Downstar ordered as Lighttrail lunged for her. "We'll hold them back!" Wolverineheart ran after Yarrowclaw's hunters as Lighttrail smacked Downstar into the snow. Downstar raked her claws along Lighttrail's white chest. Blood immediately dripped from his pelt onto Downstar's face.
Lighttrail stumbled off, shrieking, as the rest of the patrol converged on Downstar and Wildclaw. There were three or four SlugClan warriors for each remaining RippleClan cat. At least Lighttrail wouldn't be a problem; he stumbled against a pine trunk and pressed his bleeding wounds into the snow.
"I'd like to see you take me, foxhearts!" Wildclaw cried. She hooked her claws into Carvingfur as she and Leathermask rolled back into the crowd. Wildclaw ripped Carvingfur off Leathermask and dug her teeth into the tortoiseshell's soft ear.
Sharp claws slashed Downstar's ankle. She tumbled forward into a black molly. A cream-colored tom pounced on Downstar's back. His claws tore into her ginger patches. Blinding pain ripped through Downstar's blood.
Lettucestar crouched by Lighttrail as the SlugClan warriors beat Downstar into the ground. The leader and deputy whispered to one another, mute under the screech of battle. With a decisive nod from Lighttrail, Lettucestar hurried past the fight toward the unseen coastline and RippleClan's camp.
Leathermask and Wildclaw fought back to back against Carvingfur and the other SlugClan warriors. They spun to face every blow. Nicks and scratches riddled their faces. Neither could get to Downstar.
The black molly and the cream-colored tom stepped off Downstar, blood staining their paws. Downstar's ears rang. She stared into the now pink snow. Her legs shook. The pain coursed through her back and toward her paws. Downstar couldn't get up. She couldn't help her daughter. Yarrowclaw and Wolverineheart had to get to camp. They had to protect the kits. That was what mattered.
A brown and white mass of long fur flew past Downstar's blurry vision. The figure landed on Carvingfur just before the tortoiseshell could claw at Leathermask's eyes. Carnationspeckle! Her hunting patrol! Drumtooth and Tallowheart dove into the fight behind their patrol leader. Tallowheart pulled Wildclaw and Leathermask out of the mess. Drumtooth whipped around the SlugClan warriors like a fish. He'd land one blow, then kick back at a sneaky warrior.
"They're going for camp," Wildclaw yowled over the ringing in Downstar's ears.
"Yarrowclaw got there first," Tallowheart gulped. The fighting in front of Downstar blurred. Downstar rested her chin on the cold, stained snow.
"Mom!"
It took a while for Downstar to die. From what she could tell, she drifted in a melting mass of dreams and noise until her strength finally left her. She couldn't tell how much time had passed, and could barely hold on to a single thought. The sounds of the battle rose and fell. They blended into orders and questions, making the line between war and peace impossible to see. Were the clerics there? They should focus on the camp. SlugClan would not have those kits!
Summer warmth licked Downstar's pelt. That oh-so-familiar ocean hum replaced the ringing in her ears. Her back no longer burned. Downstar rubbed her cheek on the sand. Oh Downstar had missed the summer. RippleClan needed that light and warmth once more.
StarClan's coastline was the same as ever; mountains far behind the forest, pure salty water nuzzling the shore. Sunhigh glistened at the top of the sky, honey-bright and as welcome as a warm nest at the end of a cold night. Now Downstar didn't want to get up at all. For now, she could breathe.
Yet who would greet her this time? She was never alone on that lovely beach. Locustseeker, Duskkit, Fennelspot, Rustshade, Scrubmask⊠someone always had a kind word to say. Who would be there this time? Maybe Downstar had to go find them.
Despite the tempting warmth of the sand, Downstar got to her paws. She stood quicker than she expected. Old age didn't plague her in the strange land of Silverpelt. Downstar scanned the shore. Down the coast, paws dipping into the slowly rising tide, a black tabby sat, waiting. Downstar's granddaughter was unmistakeable, even with the newly gained glimmer in her pelt.
"I shouldn't be surprised it's you," Downstar called. Trumpetspore turned at her grandmother's voice. Her ears pressed backward. She snapped her eyes down.
Downstar strolled down the beach. Her heartbeat matched the gentle pull of the waves. She slowed the closer she got to Trumpetspore. Trumpetspore's head dipped lower and lower.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I'm sorry, Downstar. I should have talked to you. I missed them so much, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to hurt anyone."
"Oh, Trumpet," Downstar cooed. She placed her chin on Trumpetspore's warm head. She wrapped herself around Trumpetspore as the ageless black warrior shook. The hum of the ethereal ocean hid Trumpetspore's whimpers.
"I should have hung on," Trumpetspore whined.
"I know, I know," Downstar whispered. "It'll be alright now. I know, you're sorry."
Downstar wasn't sure how long she sat with her granddaughter. Those visits to StarClan rarely aligned with time in the living world, after all. Downstar just let the salt water soak her flank as she offered Trumpetspore a familiar shoulder.
"There are things I need to say," Trumpetspore eventually croaked, "before you go back." The pair pulled away, leaving imprints of each other in their pelts.
"I understand," Downstar sighed. "Tell me first, though. Did Lettucestar take the kits?"
"No," Trumpetspore said, clearing her throat. There was a shift in her starry eyes, a soft dance of light cascading across her glittering pelt. Her gaze drifted to something Downstar could not see. "Puddlewhisper hid them in the medicine den when Yarrowclaw got to camp. She pretended they were in the nursery until Lettucestar's patrol had to retreat."
"As clever as her mother," Downstar purred. Good, the kits were safe. For now, at least.
"Happier moons are ahead," Trumpetspore promised as her focus returned to Downstar. She stiffened and glanced down as she added, "If I had known that earlierâŠ" Downstar had no comforting words for that. Trumpetspore breathed deep and stood taller.
"You're on your last life, Downstar," Trumpetspore said. Her voice gained the sort of regal, knowing tone Downstar had grown used to hearing from StarClan cats. "The next time you wake up on these shores, you will not return to RippleClan."
"I understand," Downstar said. She could feel her body pulling her down. The weight of her many moons flowed back through her muscles. She laid on the sand, which now felt more like moss and leather. Downstar's body was likely in the medicine den. "One thing before I wake up. Can you pass a message to Shadowdrop and your siblings?"
"Anything," Trumpetspore gulped. Downstar purred at the light in Trumpetspore's eyes.
"Tell them I love them."
(Downstar: 151, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)
Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Clammask have found a way past their grief. Meanwhile, everyone poisoned by the poorly cooked rabbit recovers.
[Image ID: Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Clammask sit together, with - CONDITION: GRIEVING (X3) under them. Under Drumpaw, it says - CONDITION: FOOD POISONING, SHOCK. Under Rapidleaf, it says - CONDITION: FOOD POISONING, SHOCK, WATER IN LUNGS. Honeypaw, Elmsprout, and Leatherpaw are together, with - CONDITION: FOOD POISONING (X3) under them.]
Clammask and Lemmy both announce their pregnancies.
[Image ID: Clammask and Lemmy both sit with + CONDITION: PREGNANT under them.]
---
It was a day after Lemmyâs pregnancy announcement that Clammask entered the medicine den with complaints of weight gain and nausea. Thank StarClan that Honeypaw had been out collecting herbs with the caretakers, because Clammask would not have been able to meet her sonâs eyes as she later left with Troutpoolâs diagnosis.
Perhaps she shouldnât have been surprised. Halibutdusk may not have been a tom, but they had been born one. There was no reason they couldnât get Clammask pregnant. Yet she had forgotten that, too busy finding a new beginning with playful flirting and a few fun outings (and one particular night where Clammask said goodbye to the pain and vengeance in her heart and oh StarClan was that when it happened oh no). It wasnât supposed to be so serious. It wasnât supposed to go this way.
It still felt like summer as Clammask squinted in the brilliance of sunhigh. Lemmy and Mosspounce had a crowd around them, eager to share tongues. While Lemmy mostly kept to Mosspounce, Splashpaw, and the codekeepers, she chatted with her Clanmates with the skill and grace of a mediator, letting everyone know that she felt well and would nest in the nursery when she was ready. Clammask had already had a litter once, why wasnât she as confident as Lemmy? Why did she have to feel like a scared kit?
Spikecrash was one of the cats sharing tongues with Lemmy. Clammask caught bits of their conversation, mixing their old faith in the Other Side with their new homeâs focus on StarClan. Clammask lingered at the edge of the crowd, searching for the right words to draw Spikecrashâs attention. She didnât have to say anything, luckily; Spikecrash glanced around camp as Lemmy listened to Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle share pregnancy tips. Thank StarClan she saw the fear in Clammaskâs silver eyes.
Spikecrash crept around her Clanmates, making her way to Clammask. No one seemed to notice the pair, much to Clammaskâs relief. She flicked her ears toward the camp exit. Spikecrash nodded and led her outside.Â
Autumn had smacked RippleClan upside the head in the last few days. Before Clammask realized it, the trees that lined camp to the west had exploded in tortoiseshell color. The wind coming off the ocean was no longer pleasantly cool, but cold enough to make the golden molly shiver. The bugs had gone silent and heat no longer pushed against Clammaskâs lungs; rather, the cold ocean air soothed her tense heart.Â
Not by much, however.
âIâve lived here long enough to know when someone needs a mediator and doesnât know what to say,â Spikecrash sighed as the pair left camp. âWhat do you need to talk about?â
âLetâs find somewhere we wonât be overheard first,â Clammask gulped.
Clammask and Spikecrash entered the forest. The trees and falling leaves would provide some privacy, just in case the sunhigh patrol wandered past. Spikecrash tried not to stare as they walked further and further from camp. Clammask wasnât sure if her nausea was from her nerves or the life growing inside her. She tried to soak in the crisp, early autumn smell, but the remnants of summer and the weight in her chest made her nose-blind.
âI saw you leaving the medicine den,â Spikecrash said when they were far enough away from camp for Clammask to stop. âDid Troutpool have bad news for you?â Could she even define what was happening as âbad newsâ? She loved being pregnant with her sons, after all. Maybe if this was another litter with Scrubmask, she would be yowling the news across camp, celebrating with Lemmy, laughing at jokes about stealing attention from the former Witch Hunter.
âIâm pregnant,â Clammask said, the word dying part-way out of her mouth. Spikecrashâs face did not reveal her reaction; instead, she cocked her head slightly and studied Clammask, the way her whiskers fell and her eyes looked hollow.
âThis doesnât sound like something you planned,â Spikecrash noted.
âI was still testing how I felt about Halibutdusk,â Clammask moaned, pacing around Spikecrash without realizing it. âI didnât want to have as serious a relationship as I had with Scrubmask at the start, we started a family as soon as we became mates, I only wanted to move on! Halibutdusk talked to me when they realized they werenât a tom, they didnât like what it meant to be a tom, how will they feel knowing they sired kits? I havenât told my sons Iâve been seeing them! Theyâll think Iâm betraying their mother! Does Halibutdusk want kits? Do I want more kits? My sons havenât even graduated! What if I lose another kit?â Spikecrash threw out her paw and stopped Clammaskâs spiral.
âOne thought at a time,â Spikecrash purred. âIt seems youâre nervous about a serious relationship with Halibutdusk.â
âIâm not ready for that,â Clammask whined, sitting. Her tail stirred the leaves around her. âHalibutdusk has always been there for me, but⊠I donât know, this is so much more than I was expecting!â
âAnd you think theyâll be upset theyâve sired kits with you?â Spikecrash asked, nodding.
âWhen Drumpaw told me he was a tom, he went on and on about how much the idea of pregnancy made him sick. Does Halibutdusk feel that way about siring kits? Does it make them feel wrong?â
âHave you asked them?â
âI didnât want to be serious, why would I ask them that?â Spikecrash rolled onto her back, signaling her surrender at Clammaskâs suddenly curled lip. Clammask smoothed her face.
âAll Iâm saying is that if you havenât asked them about that topic, you canât know how theyâll feel,â Spikecrash explained, face upside down. âThe same goes for your sons. Paleseed deals with grief more than I do, but from what Iâve seen of your kits, theyâve each found their way forward from Scrubmaskâs death. They might be happy for you.â
âMaybe. I donât know what to think right now.â
âDo you want a practical response or an emotional one?â Spikecrash got back to her feet. Clammask thought it through, fur growing hot.Â
âPractical,â she eventually decided.
âDo you want to have these kits or not?â Spikecrash asked. Clammaskâs stomach suddenly flipped.
âMove,â she managed to gulp just before she threw up. Spikecrash skittered up a fir. Clammask shivered as the taste settled in her mouth. Her nose curled at the stench of her own bile. Spikecrash jumped from the fir to a tree behind Clammask before she risked climbing down. Leaves fluttered with Spikecrashâs fall. Spikecrash groomed Clammaskâs neck as the pregnant molly shivered.Â
What did Clammask want? Forget Halibutdusk, forget her sons, forget Scrubmask and whatever her spirit must think of her. Did Clammask want these kits or not?
âI want these kits,â Clammask finally whimpered. âI want to be a mother again. I want my sons to have more kin. I want to raise a litter that has two parents at their graduation ceremonies.â
âAlright then,â Spikecrash purred, touching Clammaskâs nose despite the stench in her mouth. âI can help you tell Halibutdusk.â
âWhether weâre actually in love or not,â Clammask gulped, forcing herself to take a deep breath, âIâm raising these kits, and Iâll help Halibut be a part of their lives. Theyâll be a good influence.â
âLetâs get you some water back at camp,â Spikecrash suggested. âWe can wait until you feel a bit better before you tell anyone else about this.â
âIâd like that,â Clammask said with a sniffle. She let her paw dangle near her belly.
Her four sons were big personalities in their own rights. Who would these lovely kits become?
(Clammask: 57, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)
(Lemmy: 39, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)
(Spikecrash: 38, female, mediator, good speaker, lore keeper)
Terracottafoot helps Paleseed, Weedfoot, and Darkkick dream of the Dark Forest during Harvest Moon.
[Image ID: Weedfoot, Darkkick, and Paleseed stare down Newtstream, who is a Dark Forest spirit. Newtstream says, âI just want to spend my damnation in peace, and Autumnstar wants me to help make his curse worse.â]
---
This Harvest Moon was shaping up to be a lively one. As RippleClan settled around the Leaderâs Stone in the early dawn light, setting up the decor of black pelts and with the other Clans, everyone found something to start their day with. Clammask, Lemmy, and Oilstripe joined a gaggle of queens, pregnant and nursing, all bonding over nursery experiences while some of Halibutduskâs warrior friends teased them for their sudden relationship change. Mosspounce argued with the LynxClan artisans and caretakers over how to construct a temporary stove while Tempestshade and Elmsprout eagerly brought out the massive fish Carnationspeckle and Darkkick caught the night before. Rabbitjoy and Rattlepelt reunited with their artisan friends and explained their plans for RippleClanâs show about Leatherwaste and their careless deeds. Rapidleaf explained to her old Clanmates that no, she didnât feel comfortable returning to LynxClan when her only living kin were distant RippleClan apprentices. Downstar happily shared tongues with Gorgestar and Ospreystar while Gentlestar and Eelstar (who bore a wrap over his nose) made sure everyone was settling in for the day.
And Paleseed? She was preparing for the fight of her life.
Most of the clerics were setting up spiritual protections around the clearing, guarding the five Clans from the Spirits of Shadow that would roam the territories that day. Terracottafoot, however, stood far from the rest of the Clans with Paleseed, Weedfoot, and Darkkick.Â
They had a jar of black dye on one side and a pile of early autumn leaves on the other. They rubbed their paw in the dye and gently nudged Weedfootâs chin up. Terracottafoot ran their dyed paw from the base of Weedfootâs chin to the center of her chest, a long black stripe like burnt meat. They did the same to Paleseed and Darkkick.
âNow I just need a spark to ignite these leaves, and weâll begin,â Terracottafoot gulped, rubbing their black paw into the grass. âWhen you fall asleep, your souls will be transported to the Dark Forest. As many of the spirits there wander the forest tonight, you shouldnât encounter as many enemies as you typically would. The burning of the leaves acts as a calling ritual. When you enter the Dark Forest, Autumnstar will feel called to you, even if he doesnât realize it. Youâll find each other eventually.â Darkkick nodded along. Did she know of this ritual from her cleric days? What sort of dark powers did clerics hold in their hearts?
âWhat do we do when we find Autumnstar?â Paleseed asked.
âMake him stop hurting his Clan,â Terracottafoot sighed. âConvince him, fight him, do whatever you have to do. If heâs not stopped, the older generations of AshClan will all be dead by winterâs end.â Paleseed glanced back at the AshClan delegation. Save for Eelstar and Barkfur, every AshClan cat present was no more than a few years old. Would Paleshade leave them to die? No, Paleseed couldnât keep asking what her namesake would do. But that was easier said than done.
âIf Autumnstar is powerful enough to project a curse on AshClan,â Weedfoot muttered, âheâll be a formidable foe in the Dark Forest.â
âHe might have powers,â Paleseed said, âbut heâll still think like himself, wonât he? If we canât outstrength him, we can outsmart him.â Hmm. Paleshade wasnât much of a trickster. She would just give some grand speech and take Autumnstar down, if Weedfootâs stories had any truth to them. Maybe Paleseed could bring more to the battle than a helpless mediator ready to be slaughtered.
âIâll be right back,â Terracottafoot said, nodding with more enthusiasm than Paleseed had ever seen in the young cat. They hurried toward the main crowd, who continued to bicker about the stove as the sun battered the trees and fought its way into the clearing.
âIt might be selfish to say this,â Weedfoot gulped, resting her tail on Paleseed, âbut Iâm glad youâll be with us. I could use your support. Just promise me youâll run if things get too dire.â Paleseed hesitated. Leave her mother and Darkkick to fight off Spirits of Shadow?
âThat isnât a request,â Darkkick huffed. âI still think you should stay here. The Dark Forest is no place for a non-combatant.â
âI really think I can help,â Paleseed said, raising her tail with false confidence. âIf StarClan saw me with you, thereâs something I can do to stop Autumnstar, something the two of you canât.â To her surprise, Paleseed found herself believing her own words.
âYou put more faith in what StarClan chooses to say than I do,â Darkkick muttered, fluffing her coat against a sudden breeze, âbut so be it. I donât doubt thereâs something you could bring to this patrol.â Paleseedâs heather-blue eyes brightened at the compliment. Darkkick rolled her eyes, earning a chuckle from Weedfoot. At that moment, Terracottafoot slunk around the Leaderâs Stone with a glowing stick in their jaws. Out of sight of most of the crowd, they ran back to Paleseed, Weedfoot, and Darkkick. They angled the stick against the leaves. The breeze sent sparks onto the dry tinder. The orange leaves began to glow.
âLay down, quickly!â Terracottafoot ordered, setting down the stick.Â
âWait,â Weedfoot huffed as smoke drifted from the leaves. âHow are we supposed to get out of the Dark Forest once our job is done?â
âDo you know how you wake yourself up from a bad dream?â Terracottafoot grunted, nudging Paleseedâs flank down. âItâs just like that. Hurry, the leaves wonât burn long!â The three RippleClan cats laid around the smoldering leaves. Terracottafoot sat beside the tiny fire, eyes closed tight. It was hard to imagine falling asleep with the fire in her blood, but Paleseed closed her eyes as well, praying that the Ashes in the Water were standing beside her, guarding her spirit as it shifted from one world to another.
Paleseed thought she would feel the transition. She was literally traveling to another level of existence, why would she not notice when she left the clearing and entered the Place of No Stars itself? But she still felt the small warmth of the burning leaves. She still heard the happy crowd, just beginning to play a few instruments to welcome in the festive day. She could even smell Carnationspeckleâs fish! So how would she know when she arrived?
âOpen your eyes, Paleseed,â Weedfoot whispered. âWeâre here.â
When Paleseed obeyed her mother, the warmth and music and scent of freshly-caught fish evaporated. The sound of the Harvest Moon still rang in her ears, as though occurring deep within the ocean. Yet the grass was gray, like life and light had been sucked out from the roots. Paleseed looked up. Barren branches criss-crossed over a black sky. A huge, yellow full moon watched the land like a vengeful eye. There were no stars in that black ocean, no glow to the world but the harsh, biting moonlight that refracted off the fog. Said fog clung to the ground, nipping at Paleseedâs paws as she stood. The scent of wood-rot and fungus filled her lungs.Â
The Dark Forest was indeed that; dark, cold, absent of all the good in the world. Not a single conifer needle or leaf clung to the trees around the three RippleClan cats; instead, every branch poked and prodded at its neighbor for more room. There wasnât even leaf litter to show there had ever been a summer in that barren land. Instead, mushrooms claimed the trees as their territory; flat, wide things of white and tan and brown. Even more mushrooms whose names Paleseed could not hope to guess sprouted from mounds poking out of the fog. Those mushrooms were the only life in the land. Bramble bushes speckled the shadowy landscape, thorns reaching out like fangs. Paleseedâs claws dug into the dry, red earth as a caterwaul echoed from somewhere deep within the forest.Â
âThe stories were right about this place,â Darkkick scoffed, shaking out the mist and dust collecting on her fur. Paleseed instinctively pressed into Weedfoot. All three cats gathered around each other, taking in the cursed trees and the sharp shadows. Autumnstar was out there, somewhere, instinctively drawn toward the living cats, unaware of the fate that awaited him.
âWhere do we start?â Paleseed gulped.
âYou could start by leaving, if youâre smart.â Weedfoot and Darkkick jumped between Paleseed and the strangerâs voice. Paleseed followed the sound up into a dead pine. A black, mud-like ooze dripped from the ginger molly lounging on the branches overhead. A solid, glistening layer of ice covered her extremities and dulled her monotone fur.Â
âNewtstream,â Darkkick growled. She soothed her bristling fur and huffed, âItâs alright. Sheâll pose no threat to us.â
âTerracottafoot sent you here, didnât they?â Newtstream huffed. She jumped out of the tree and landed beside Darkkick. âThe black marks on your chests, the sudden arrival on Harvest Moon⊠yes, itâs like I taught them. Why send RippleClan cats, however?â
âWeâre here to stop Autumnstarâs curse,â Weedfoot explained, eyes stuck on Newtstreamâs black goop.
âYou were trying to save your Clanmates when you were alive,â Paleseed gulped, taking a risky step closer to the Dark Forest spirit. âThereâs no reason for you to stop us.â
âWhat makes you think Iâm trying to stop you?â Newtstream scoffed. âIâm just trying to spare you. It may be Harvest Moon, but deadly things still wander these woods.â
âWe wonât be here any longer than we have to be,â Weedfoot said. âWeâll take care of Autumnstar and go.â
âI canât say Iâm too surprised to see you here,â Darkkick couldnât help but grumble. âYou did spit in StarClanâs face, after all.â
âI didnât do enough to forgive myself, apparently,â Newtstream sighed, looking at the starless sky. âI just want to spend my damnation in peace, and Autumnstar wants me to help make his curse worse. The only thing keeping him from becoming as terrible as the worst Spirits of Shadow is his hurt ego. He feels his Clanmates, that StarClan himself, gave up on him and the virtues he tried to uphold. He could have led AshClan for many more moons if he let himself be wrong about your Clan. Instead, he spreads his frost across the Dark Forest and curses his Clanmatesâ names. Heâll turn you into ice when he finds you.â As Newtstream monologued, Paleseed examined the dry grass around her. The entire forest looked like the aftermath of a great fire, destroying everything green in the world.
âFrostâŠâ Paleseed muttered, looking back at the icy death wounds covering Newtstreamâs extremities. âAutumnstarâs frostbite scars were some of his most famous characteristics. Thatâs why his curse is some form of eternal frostbite. The power of the Dark Forest exacerbates that legend. But frost has a big weakness. If⊠yes, if we donât draw the attention of Spirits of ShadowâŠâ Paleseed ran her paw against the harsh, rugged bark of a dead tree.
âWhat are you thinking, Paleseed?â Weedfoot asked. Paleseed turned back to the group, her eyes the brightest thing in the land.
âI have a plan to take care of Autumnstar,â Paleseed said.
(Darkkick: 123, trans female, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)
[Image ID: Downstar (now in an elder sprite), Rattlepelt, and Splashpaw look at Gentlestar, a brown tabby with a maple seed accessory, who introduces Asterpaw, a gray apprentice. Gentlestar says, âWeâve decided that if Asterpaw is going to give prey to every loner and kittypet he comes across, he would do better in the Clan thatâs more supportive of that behavior.â Under Asterpaw, it says NEW PLAYER: ASTERPAW, 10, MALE, THOUGHTFUL, HAS LOTS OF IDEAS.]
---
As Paleseed, Weedfoot, and Darkkick dreamed unbeknownst to all but a trusted few, Downstar cheered with the rest of the Clans as WheatClan finished their performance on Shardlings, the broken pieces of destroyed souls fulfilling dark desires on loop. The young apprentices were a great decision to play the part of the Shardlings, even if they lacked an artisanâs acting skills. For who could get mad at excited youths performing with their friends and kin?
âMaybe we should have asked you to help with our Leatherwaste performance, huh Splashpaw?â Rattlepelt, who sat near Downstar, laughed to the purple-ribboned apprentice.
âI suppose you should have,â Splashpaw laughed, âbut Iâm almost a historian. I donât think I would have the same effect as the six moon old apprentices.â Someone on the other side of the swarm of Clan cats called for a race. Suddenly, dozens of furry forms shoved past Downstar, ignorant of her position.Â
âA lot of energy, considering how close we are to sunhigh,â Downstar chuckled, smoothing out her disturbed pelt. âIâm ready for the feast.â
âIt smells amazing,â Splashpaw purred, tasting the air. âWe have this every Harvest Moon?â
âHopefully youâll have a lot more of these feasts in the years to come,â Rattlepelt chirped, picking up her fox pelt from where the excited crowd had shoved it off her back.
âDownstar! A moment, if you would!â Gentlestar weaved through the excited crowd, her maple seed necklace bouncing on her chest. The bright sun made her brown pelt look yellow. A small gray tom followed her, staring at Downstar.
âYour Clan put on an excellent show, Gentlestar,â Downstar purred as the WheatClan leader approached.
âSo did yours,â Gentlestar chirped, touching noses with the RippleClan leader. âHopefully we can share tongues some more later today. First, though, I wanted to introduce you to Asterpaw.â The gray apprentice stood beside Gentlestar, studying the three RippleClan cats before him. His fur was choppy, with a few small tabby markings along his face and tail. He was sleek compared to most WheatClan cats, who enjoyed the extra fat from their various herbs and crops in the bountiful moons.
âGreetings,â he said quietly, nodding to each RippleClan cat in turn.
âAre you a new apprentice?â Splashpaw asked. Asterpaw shifted back.
âHeâs been an apprentice for over a season now,â Gentlestar explained, âbut he hasnât been allowed at Gatherings. I heard you used to be a troublemaker in your youth, Downstar. Asterpaw would want to challenge you for that title. Heâs been the subject of three trials in the span of four moons.â
âWhat in StarClanâs name have you been doing?â Rattlepelt gasped as Asterpaw straightened up against the shocked expressions of those around him.
âIâve been helping cats,â he huffed.
âAsterpaw has been caught numerous times stealing WheatClan resources and giving them to the southern farm cats,â Gentlestar said. A curt glare from the brown leader shut Asterpaw up. His yellow eyes screamed to talk back. âNo matter how many times weâve explained to Asterpaw that our prey and tools belong to us, heâll still give what he can away.âÂ
âThatâs not something a leader would usually admit to another,â Downstar noted as Asterpaw grew stiff as wood, fighting back the urge to defend himself. âThat sort of theft is a serious issue, Asterpaw.â The flood inside of the gray WheatClan tom broke free.
âI donât always take things from camp!â he cried. âI make some of my own stuff, too. The farm cats have their own society to the south, and they donât have our freedom to act with humans constantly watching them. If theyâre struggling to hunt for themselves, I give them a spare mouse or my share of a meal. I only want to take care of them!â
âExcept youâre supposed to take care of your Clanmates, not those outside WheatClan,â Gentlestar reminded him. This time, Asterpaw did not back down, glaring back at Gentlestar with righteous strength. Gentlestar simply sighed, looked back to Downstar, and said, âWeâve decided that if Asterpaw is going to give prey to every loner and kittypet he comes across, he would do better in the Clan thatâs more supportive of that behavior.â
âWait,â Rattlepelt said, âdo you mean you want Asterpaw to join RippleClan?â
âHeâs shown WheatClan that he cannot be trusted,â Gentlestar sighed. âThe only other option after so many repeated offenses in so little time was exile.â
âRippleClan loves to help outsiders, right?â Asterpaw said, stepping away from Gentlestar. âYouâve invited a dozen loners to join your ranks at this point. You understand what Iâm trying to do.â
âWeâre kind to loners, yes,â Downstar said, glancing toward Lemmy in the gaggle of queens, âbut weâre still wise with our resources. Thereâs a border between helping others and hurting your Clan. If you want to be a RippleClan cat, you need to understand that.â
âIf you can teach him that lesson, WheatClan will be impressed,â Gentlestar said. âBeyond his issues, Asterpaw is a good caretaker and minds the camp well. While we will miss him, he and the Clan all agree this is for the best.â Asterpaw nodded along.
âAnother caretaker apprentice from another ClanâŠâ Downstar hummed. She couldnât help but chuckle at history repeating itself. âI trained Elmsprout when she left AshClan. It seems only fair that I train another caretaker.â
âSo I can join?â Asterpaw asked, standing as tall as he could despite his short stature.
âYou canât be stealing from us, though,â Rattlepelt noted. âIâll know if you steal my leather.â She adjusted her fox pelt, rubbing her face into the red fur lining the outer side.
âIf youâre as troublesome as Gentlestar claims you are,â Downstar chuckled, touching noses with Asterpaw, âyou need a more experienced paw to guide you. If this is what you want, you can return to RippleClan with us at the end of Harvest Moon.â Asterpaw hooked his tail high, purring at his new leader.
A hiss slipped through the happy noise of the Harvest Moon. A sharp yelp spun Downstarâs head around. Far away from the rest of the crowd, Weedfoot, Paleseed, and Darkkick slept beside one another. Terracottafoot looped around them, using them as a wall between themself and Waspdawn, whose shortened tail thrashed violently and who bared his teeth like a dog.
âWhat did you do to Paleseed?â Waspdawn yowled. He tried to get around the sleeping cats and strike Terracottafoot, but the nimble cleric led the codekeeper on a loop, staying far from Waspdawnâs angry claws.
âPlease, you canât disturb them!â Terracottafoot begged. âThis is more important than you realize!â Downstar ran toward Waspdawn and Terracottafoot, but Troutpool beat her there.
âWaspdawn, you canât attack a cleric!â Troutpool yowled, grabbing Waspdawn by the scruff and pulling him back. Waspdawn squirmed out of Troutpoolâs weak grasp.
âThey did something to them!â Waspdawn hissed. Cats slipped away from the excitement of the distant race and formed a crowd of onlookers, all eyes on Waspdawn. âNone of them will wake up!â Terracottafoot crouched by Darkkick, who did not wake up despite the chaos around her. Eelstar shoved his way to the front of the crowd. He shivered as he stood, even though the coming sunhigh made it feel almost like summer again.
âTerracottafoot, what is going on?â Eelstar huffed. Terracottafoot rose, gray eyes hardening as they stood down their leader.
âI did what your pride wouldnât let you do,â they snapped. âI got help!â Downstar slipped beside Weedfoot. She nudged her deputyâs shoulder. Weedfoot did not stir. Downstar put her ear to Weedfootâs mouth. She was still breathing. Downstar shook her again, harder, but to the same result.
âWhatâs on their chests?â Rattlepelt called from the crowd. Troutpool joined Downstar and Weedfoot. She lifted Weedfootâs heavy head. Black dye smeared the bottom of her chin, a trail running down her chest. Darkkick and Paleseed had the same marks. Troutpool gasped and dropped Weedfootâs head. Her whiskers pushed back and her wide eyes stared at Terracottafoot.
âI know this ritual,â Troutpool muttered as Rattlepelt joined her little sister, offering a comforting weight at her side. âEvery cleric learns it, even though itâs incredibly taboo. Terracottafoot⊠why did you send them to the Dark Forest?â Fearful gasps and yowls rippled around the Leaderâs Stone. Codekeepers instantly fought to keep RippleClan and AshClan cats alike from swarming the scene, pushing and smacking them back with sheathed claws. Downstar shivered just like Eelstar.Â
âBecause theyâre going to save my Clan,â said Terracottafoot, whose characteristic insecurity vanished like morning mist against the outrage of the five Clans, whose gray eyes continued to stare down Eelstar, almost taunting him to speak against his only cleric.
(Downstar: 122, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)
[Image ID: Darkkick and Weedfoot face down Autumnstar, a Dark Forest soul. Weedfoot says, âYou couldnât rest in peace, could you Autumnstar?â]
---
Paleseed would be the one to spring the trap. It was her idea, after all, and it would keep her out of the fight. Newtstream had wandered off, unable (or perhaps unwilling) to assist anymore than she had. That left Weedfoot and Darkkick standing among the trees. Waiting. Watching. Holding their breath at the slightest shift in wind.
âAre we sure Autumnstar will come this way?â Weedfoot asked.
âTerracottafootâs performance of the ritual was sound,â Darkkick huffed. âAutumnstarâs spirit is being pulled our direction as we speak.â Weedfoot peered into the moonlit fog. The trees grew hazy the farther she looked. A distant howl filled the silence between the pair.
âDarkkick,â Weedfoot said softly, âif I donât wake up, make sure my family knows why I did this.â
âIf I donât,â Darkkick said, âtell Spikecrash Iâve enjoyed growing closer to her.â
âIâll tell her you loved her,â Weedfoot purred.
The moonlight in the distance glinted against yellow eyes. Weedfoot froze, and not just out of fear. A thin coat of frost crawled under the fog, lurching from the shadows. It stung at Weedfootâs pads and forced her back. Darkkick shivered through it. Ginger and white paws, sticky with goo and shimmering with frost, stepped out of the haze. Ice ate at his scar tissue. The face that came into view was not one of malice, but shock.
âIs that you, Weedfoot?â Autumnstar gasped. The frost grew thicker and thicker where he stood. The frost collected over Weedfootâs paws, trying to glue her to the dead grass. Weedfoot kept moving, shifting her stance and breaking the ice. âYouâre not a cat I expected to see here. Especially not alive. And Darkkick, of all cats! I never expected to see your face again. So youâve joined up with Weedfoot and her kin. Did you send the pair of you here?â Darkkick raised her hackles, hissing.
âYou couldnât rest in peace, could you Autumnstar?â Weedfoot growled. âDo you even realize youâre hurting your Clan? Your Clanmates are dying, youâve cursed them. You need to undo it.â
âI wondered if my anger held the power so many artisans and historians claimed it did in this place,â Autumnstar muttered, lifting a paw and allowing his cursed goop to drip onto the dead grass. âIf that is how their betrayal manifests, so be it. May StarClan judge their foxhearted ways just as they judged me.â
âI would have thought youâd curse RippleClan,â Darkkick scoffed.
âYou may not believe me, but I know the truth about your Clan now,â Autumnstar snapped. A flick of his tail sent ice sprinkling onto the side of a withered oak. âOur ancestors decided five Clans can exist around StarClanâs Shrine. My fight is not with RippleClan.â
âAshClan is full of your friends, your kin,â Weedfoot yowled. âI remember how much you cared for them. Why hurt them?â
âWhy do you care?â Autumnstar groaned like an impatient apprentice. âYouâre not AshClan anymore. The culture and traditions I fought to uphold mean nothing to you now.â
âI did care!â Darkkick yowled, marching closer. A flash of frost shot out from around Autumnstar. It struck at Darkkickâs legs, leaving crystals on her long fur. She hissed, gritting her teeth as her legs buckled. âI cared about AshClan up to the moment you exiled me for following StarClanâs decree! How is that âupholding traditionâ?â
âI exiled you because I thought you were lying,â Autumnstar growled. âWhy would I believe StarClan would suddenly side with the cats sewing discord into my Clan, working against so many of the values I held dear? I thought it was a conspiracy, that you had been won over. I stopped the war when I learned the truth. I respected RippleClanâs land, became civil to Downstar. And what did I get for changing my ways? StarClan struck me down. The friends and kin I spent my life defending began to curse my name. Of course I cursed them back!â Weedfoot couldnât feel her paws. Her skin burned from the cold. Ice pinned her fur to her skin. It grew thicker and thicker. Pulling away grew harder and harder until all Weedfoot and Darkkick could do was squirm in their crystal chrysalis. âI fight for my Clan, only to be spat on for my efforts. If theyâll call me a curse on their Clan, thatâs just what Iâll be!â
âPaleseed!â Weedfoot yowled. Her eyes turned to the treetops over Autumnstar. Flames danced in front of the giant moon. It licked at the end of a pointy gray branch. Paleseed stood defiant in the lifeless tree, holding the stick high, teeth dug tight into the bark. The fire brightened her spotted fur and burned her heather eyes.
Paleseed set the flame to the tree. The fire eagerly jumped to the dry tinder. Brilliant orange light exploded against the fog. Paleseed ran and jumped from one tree to another, setting each aflame.
âAre you mad?â Autumnstar roared. âYouâll kill yourselves before you kill me!â Blood pooled in Weedfootâs paws in response to the sudden heat. Frost turned to dew. Darkkick lifted herself from the grass, shaking the quickly melting ice off her long black fur like dust. In the shining firelight, Autumnstar seemed like any other opponent Weedfoot had overcome before.
Darkkick attacked first. She head-butted Autumnstar, knocking him toward the flames, now leaping to other trees of its own merit. Weedfoot struck Autumnstar upside the head before he could collect himself. They rolled through the fog, two against one. Weedfootâs pelt grew soaked as she fell on her back, saved only by Darkkick dragging Autumnstar away.
âItâs done!â Paleseed cried. In between flashes of fur and fang, fire consumed every exit. The heat replaced Autumnstarâs supernatural chill entirely. Paleseed stood on the other side of the fire, coughing, eyes watering at the smoke that now ate at the moon.
âYouâve weakened him!â Weedfoot cheered as she freed Darkkick from Autumnstarâs strong hold. âThereâs nothing else you can do here, Paleseed. You need to wake up.â
âI donât know how!â Paleseed yowled. âThis doesnât feel like a dream!â
âYou can see, but your eyes feel closed, donât they?â Darkkick snapped, dodging Autumnstarâs strike. âYou can still hear Harvest Moon in the distance. Thatâs how it is for us. Force your eyes open! Listen to the crowd!â
âI love you both!â Paleseed cried. Her wide gaze held Weedfootâs attention, even as she scratched and clawed at Autumnstar. The fire blossomed, rising like the tide and receding just as fast. Paleseed was gone. Paleseed was safe.
A lucky blow; Weedfoot kicked her leg back, only for Autumnstar to lock his fangs deep into her ankle. He was a rattlesnake, injecting cold poison into Weedfootâs blood. The deputy yowled and shivered as Autumnstarâs icy claws continued to spread his mouthâs icy venom. That close to the flesh, the fire could do nothing to stop his dark power. Weedfoot dug into Autumnstarâs face, even as her leg remained stuck in the dead leaderâs vicious bite.Â
Darkkick slid on her back, appearing under Autumnstarâs stomach. She pushed up, hard as she could. Autumnstarâs fangs lifted from Weedfootâs ankle with a vibrant spurt of blood. Weedfootâs spasming muscles kicked Autumnstar away.
Here are the fallen Ashes in the Water, the AshClan cats who stood against their Clanmates and asked for a different life; Lavenderleaf, Redcloud, Sprucespring, Wasppaw, Finstrike, Burdockstream, and Paleshade. StarClan knew of their mission and accepted their cause, welcoming the group into StarClan despite how they turned against their Clan. This is for them!
Weedfoot slashed at Autumnstarâs eyes. Autumnstar shrieked, trying to blink the blood away. Darkkick fulfilled her namesake; she kicked, hard, right against Autumnstarâs side, sending the suddenly blinded leader stumbling into Paleseedâs flames.
The effect was nearly instant. As Autumnstar caterwauled, form flailing in the fire, sharp-angled shadows bounced off his silhouette. Shardlings. The living shadows, with too pointy ears and fang-tips for tails, the broken remnants of a Dark Forest soul, dead twice-over. They scattered with the smoke, mimicking their hostâs fading screams. Autumnstar grew smaller and smaller in the fireâs glow.
Weedfoot turned to Darkkick, wondering, praying, screaming inside, still absorbing the pain in her leg and everything unfolding around her. But Darkkick was gone. Darkkick was safe.
But Weedfoot bore witness. She was still a historian. This was her duty.
The last shadow of Autumnstar shifted and danced in the fire, with only its ears and tail suggesting a feline shape. But this Shardling did not bounce into the Dark Forest to search for its broken kin. No, this Shardling stared at Weedfoot. Bright yellow eyes glared at her with more hatred than any soul, dead or alive, could muster. It screeched with a sound like screaming wind. Flames reaching out to restrain it, the Shardling launched at Weedfoot.
Weedfoot was not safe.
[Image ID: Darkkick, Paleseed, and Weedfoot sit together as Rattlepelt tells Weedfoot, âIâve got you, Weedfoot!â Under Weedfoot, it says + CONDITION: MANGLED LEG. Under Rattlepelt, it says LEVEL UP! FIERCE -> BLOODTHIRSTY.]
Weedfoot screamed. She spasmed against the gray⊠no. The green grass. The grass was green again. The voices that once whispered far in the distance were now up close and yowling. The sun. The sun had returned, dancing directly over the Leaderâs Stone. A huge crowd surrounded Weedfoot, gasping and yowling in response to her sudden panic.
âIâve got you, Weedfoot!â Rattlepelt sat at Weedfootâs side. She wrapped her prized fox pelt around Weedfootâs burning leg. It was still bleeding, even though Weedfootâs body never entered that cursed forest. âTroutpool and the other clerics are making emergency bandages.â Rattlepelt pressed both front paws into Weedfootâs wounds. A bit of blood stained her gray skin.
âWe werenât putting on a show here.â Darkkick! She and Paleseed sat with Terracottafoot, cleaning the black dye off their chests with wet moss rather than groom it and get sick.
âI did try to send them away,â Terracottafoot gulped.
âMove, thatâs our mother!â Weedfootâs four other kits pushed through the crowd, Waspdawn in the lead. The golden tom ran into Weedfoot. Puddlewhisper and Lavendertwist wrapped around their mother. Even Scaleripple, sensitive as he was, laid his head on Weedfootâs tail, purring. Paleseed left Darkkick and Terracottafoot to join her family. Waspdawn tackled his sister, trying to hold both kin close. James trailed after them, lucious tail tucked under his legs.
âWhere are you hurt?â James asked. He noticed Rattlepeltâs bloody paws and groaned, closing his eyes. âNo, donât tell me, I donât want to look. Iâm just grateful youâre awake.â Weedfoot couldnât help but laugh; even as she awoke from a battle in the Dark Forest, James was still the snob she knew and love. James pressed into Weedfootâs neck.
âWeedfoot.â Weedfootâs family shifted to reveal Downstar, standing with Eelstar at the front of the crowd. âTerracottafoot told us of their vision and your quest. You should have told me about this.â
âThis wasnât your problem to solve,â Eelstar said. His voice lacked its usual bite as he stared at the fox pelt around her leg.
âIâm sorry, Downstar,â Weedfoot gulped, voice shaky from the experience, âbut this was too important to let you stop us. StarClan said we were the best ones to handle Autumnstar.â
âIt was terrifying to see,â Lavendertwist gulped. âMom, you and Darkkick were just laying there, shivering! And then all these scratches and bruises began to appear, even though no one was touching you! And then your leg opened up, it was⊠I donât even know what to say! What happened in the Dark Forest?â
Yes⊠what had happened? The Shardling had had its jaw around Weedfootâs throat. It should have killed her. It wasnât a thinking being, it was a bundle of lost emotion and instinct, a small piece of what used to be Autumnstar. It didnât have the capacity to spare. So why did it? All five Clans stared at Weedfoot, awaiting her answer. What could she say? Only the truth.
Fennelspotâs yellowcough transfers off him and to Rustshade.
[Image ID: Fennelspot faces Rustshade. Under Fennelspot, it says - CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH. Under Rustshade, it says + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH.]
Fennelspot was a cleric; he was supposed to heal others, not get them sick. He had dealt with yellowcough like a true warrior, carefully avoiding his Clanmates and comforting Troutpool, insisting that she could handle the Clan on her own. But now he was walking out of the quarantine den and leaving Rustshade behind, hacking up his lungs. Even now, as Fennelspot settled Rustshade into his new nest, he couldnât turn around and leave. His paw lingered on the edge of the nest.Â
âFennelspot, go,â Rustshade huffed through his coughs. âIâm just gonna sleep. You get to leave. Enjoy the rest of winter. The new year will be here before we know it.â Fennelspot groomed Rustshadeâs head. With one last lingering look, he left his patient and walked around the shipwreck.Â
Snow covered camp that morning, but busy paws melted most of the snow into the sand, leaving just the dens and shipwreck covered in snow patches. Fennelspot took a deep breath of crisp winter air, tinted by salt. Heâd never been happier to step into a cold winterâs day.
A golden face smacked into Fennelspotâs leg and almost took him down. He looked down to see Honeykit, slightly dazed from the impact. Fennelspot was about to ask what game the young tom was playing, but then he saw Honeykitâs littermates. Splashkit and Drumkit carefully danced around Leatherkit, who had a large scrap of leather covering his eyes. Ahh. Fennelspot understood now. It was a game of Night Hunt. Fennelspot and Downstar played that game many times as kits (and perhaps more than they should have as a young caretaker and cleric).
âYour brother wonât smell you in the medicine den,â Fennelspot purred quietly, nodding toward the medicine den. Troutpool would make sure Honeykit was good. Honeykit nodded and hurried into the den.Â
âYou wonât get him out of there for a while.â Scrubmask trotted up to Fennelspot from the nursery where Clammask watched over the kits. âHe wants to be a cleric when he is apprenticed. He likes the idea of brewing medicine.â
âWeâd be happy to have him,â Fennelspot purred, gently bunting his friend. âHave you seen Oilstripe today?â
âShe was arguing with Downstar about her bodyguard,â Scrubmask huffed. âShe went to the beach to calm down. Trumpetspore is watching her.â Fennelspot nodded and touched noses with Scrubmask.
âLet Troutpool know Iâve gone to see her,â Fennelspot sighed. He brushed his tail against Scrubmask and made his way out of camp. While Fennelspot was only sick for a moon and a half, he still purred deeply when he stepped out of camp and got a better view of the sea that soothed him to sleep every night. It was hard to believe that he had lived by that sea for half of his life, that he had once lived in the muddy territory of SlugClan. It felt like he had always belonged beside the sea with the Clan he helped found.
Fennelspot followed Oilstripe and Trumpetsporeâs scent trail down to the southern beaches. The sea spray made him shiver and breathed life back into him. He could see Oilstripe walking along the coastline in the distance. Trumpetspore sat at the edge of the grass, watching. She noticed Fennelspotâs approach well before he got to the young warrior.
âSheâs not doing well,â Trumpetspore muttered. Fennelspot touched his tail to Trumpetsporeâs shoulder and headed down the beach. Wet sand stuck to Oilstripeâs paws. Her gaze stayed stuck to the sea. It wasnât until Fennelspot was a few fox-lengths away that she actually noticed him.Â
âYouâre better,â she gasped softly. âI thought you were still in quarantine with my dad.â
âTroutpool cleared me last night,â Fennelspot explained. âIs there⊠anyone comforting you?â Oilstripe bristled and sat at the edge of the water. It was high tide, leaving only a tail-length of sand dry when the water stretched as far as it could go.Â
âApplepelt talks to me a lot,â Oilstripe admitted. âThey wonât tell me about Carnationspeckle. She says the rules on what sheâs allowed to say around me are hazy.â Fennelspot sat beside Oilstripe. The lapping of the waves nearly drowned out Oilstripeâs words. âI donât know what theyâre doing to her, Fennelspot. Lemmy doesnât know, Troutpoolâs scared, and now my dad is sick⊠can you stay with me a while?âÂ
Oilstripe scooted closer to Fennelspot. She leaned against his shoulder. Fennelspot put his chin on her head and let the waves soothe them both.
Paleseed makes no progress on a recent border dispute with WheatClan. She believes she is meant for something greater.
[Image ID: Paleseed and Spikecrash walk away from a WheatClan warrior. Paleseed says, âDo you ever feel like thereâs something more you could be doing?â]
(Spikecrash: 31, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)
Lavendertwist fights a rogue. While he drives the Witch Hunter off, he must be rushed to the medicine den.
[Image ID: Trumpetspore, Scrubmask, and Scalepaw watch Lavendertwist fight Achilles. Lavendertwist yowls, âWhere is she? Tell me where she is!â Under him, it says + CONDITION: CLAW WOUND. Under Scalepaw, it says - CONDITION: SENSORY OVERLOAD.]
---
According to Lemmy, the Witch Hunters were preparing another ambush. They had their eyes on Oilstripe, constantly searching for signs of her fiery ginger pelt, but they had other names too; Troutpool, Downstar, Fennelspot, all those closest to Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle. Downstar outright banned her clerics from visiting the river after that, but that didnât mean they couldnât use the Witch Huntersâ plans against them.
Lavendertwist, Scalepaw, Trumpetspore, and Scrubmask hid in the trees on the other side of the river. Trumpetspore sat lower than the rest, better shrouded in the pine needles with her black fur. Scalepaw stayed away from the others, more at home with his pelt against the bark than against others. Although he often didnât speak in crowded situations, he was growing into a fine young warrior. Scrubmask, meanwhile, lounged on the branches like she was cuddled in her nest. All in all, Downstar and Weedfoot picked a good patrol for the assault; except that Lavendertwist was antsy.
âLavendertwist, if you donât stop fidgeting, the Witch Hunters will bolt as soon as they arrive,â Scrubmask grumbled as Lavendertwist scratched his bare neck.
âI canât help it,â he groaned. âWeâve been sitting here all day!â
âThis is the best lead Lemmyâs given us,â Trumpetspore reminded him. âI donât want anyone else to die because we didnât stop these cats.â
âIâm as dedicated to getting Carnationspeckle back as anyone else!â Lavendertwist huffed, glaring down at Trumpetspore. âSorry I canât stay still all day!â
âDown there!â Scalepaw whispered. Now that made Lavendertwist shut up. All eyes focused on the ground. A few moments later, figures shifted between the trees, leaving light prints behind them. Four cats slunk along the forest floor, eyeing the river. A brown tom with a large scar across his side led them closer to RippleClan territory. Lavendertwist recognized him from Mosspounceâs accounts; that was Achilles, essentially the deputy of the Witch Hunters.
âHeâll know where Carnationspeckle is,â Lavendertwist whispered, nodding at Achilles. He, Scalepaw, and Scrubmask snuck further down the tree to join Trumpetspore. It was all body language from there. Scrubmask flicked her ears at Scalepaw, then at the Witch Hunter in the far back of the group. It would be up to the growing apprentice to keep them from running. Trumpetspre claimed a scrawny white molly to the side. Scrubmask met Lavendertwistâs eyes, and nodded. Achilles was his.
Lavendertwist crouched along the thin branch. His eyes followed Achilles as he moved slow and steady. Scrubmask raised her tail high. Lavendertwist held his breath. Scrubmask dropped her tail.Â
Four warriors fell from the trees, landing square on their targets. The Witch Hunters yowled as sharp and angry fangs dug into their pelts. Achilles spun and tore his claws down Lavendertwistâs shoulder. The white-patched warrior grabbed Achilles by the ear and tore at the fragile flesh with all his might. Achilles kicked his back leg and squirmed out.
âWhere is she?â Lavendertwist yowled, pouncing back onto Achilles. âTell me where she is! Where are you keeping Carnationspeckle?â Achilles, however, was not as chatty as Lavendertwist.Â
He shoved Lavendertwist into the writhing mass of warriors and Witch Hunters behind him. If it wasnât for RippleClanâs strong scent of sand and salt, Lavendertwist might have struck a Clanmate in the confusion. Back paws smacked his jaw. His teeth clung to someoneâs tail. Scalepawâs white-speckled pelt flung past Lavendertwist. He spun back to his feet with exceptional skill and was back in the horde before Lavendertwist could call out.
âMy friends and family will never be able to rest while you witches play with their souls like mice!â Achilles screeched. He tumbled out of the fight, claws entangled with Trumpetspore. Black paws pushed a furious brown muzzle away from a vulnerable throat. Scrubmask and Lavendertwist kicked off their assailants. They threw themselves against Achillesâ side. The three spun into a tree. Shards of bark clung to Scrubmaskâs fur.
âStarClan is its own system,â Scrubmask growled. âThey have no quarrel with your Other Side.â
âIf Madeline and the crows say you endanger their peace,â Achilles huffed as Scalepaw scrambled away from the three other Witch Hunters, âthen I must protect them.â One of the Witch Hunters dragged Scrubmask back behind the tree. The others targeted Trumpetspore. The young warrior kicked them off and ran to Lavendertwist. She ricocheted off the tree and smacked back into her assailants with a powerful wail. Scalepaw regrouped beside his brother and mentor.Â
âBack strike,â Lavendertwist panted, unable to hold back a slight purr at putting his brotherâs training to the test. Scalepaw nodded, battlelust burning his blue eyes. Lavendertwist and Scalepaw ran at Achilles, yowling their throats raw. Achilles braced himself, eyes locked onto Lavendertwist. Scalepaw suddenly darted to the side. He looped around the brown Witch Hunter. Achilles couldnât focus on both of them at once. He left his flank exposed to the younger tom, locking claws with Lavendertwist. Scalepaw dug into Achillesâ scar. Achilles shrieked and kicked Scalepaw square in the chest. A clump of Achillesâ long fur clung to Scalepawâs tooth.Â
Lavendertwist reared onto his back legs. Achilles was stunned. This was his moment! Achilles would be the perfect prisoner. They could trade the Witch Hunters for Carnationspeckle, use him to prepare some sort of assault! That would teach them to⊠toâŠ.
Lavendertwist wasnât sure what happened. A flash of claws. A yowl of pain. Chunks of fur and flesh stuck in his paw. Scalepaw, Trumpetspore, and Scrubmask were all on top of Achilles, dragging him away. Lavendertwist had him, why were they⊠no, there was a reason. Air seeped out of Lavendertwist and he could not get it back. His front paws gave way. He crumbled onto the tan grass, wishing for cold, soft snow to break his fall. His neck burned. Blood pooled under his chin.Â
Oh. Achilles slashed his neck open. What a dramatic blow. It seemed like the sort of killing strike he would have described in a story to the kits. Rabbitjoy and Rattlepelt would likely have called it overly dramatic and overused. After all, most warriors who died in battle didnât die from such an unlikely and well-placed hit. Fangs were better for ripping someoneâs throat open than claws, after all. Would anyone believe future historians when they described how Lavendertwist died?
Lavendertwist wondered if Rippleferm felt something similar when she died. The inability to breathe. The clear and short future ahead. Lavendertwist missed his sister. She would have had something kind to say to bring him to StarClan. Would she be there as a Fetcher to escort his soul to Silverpelt? Lavendertwist wondered if the Judges would try him for anything. Heâd lived a good life, hadnât he? He supposed they would just let him in without fuss.
One thing deeply surprised Lavendertwist about dying. He thought that when someone died of a wound like his, all they could do was focus on the pain and their thoughts. All of his musings flew past in the span of a moment. After that, Lavendertwist was left without thoughts, only a deep and unending awareness of everything around him. Every sight, every sound, every agonizing and terrifying sensation flowing from his open neck.
The Witch Hunters had run off in the moment that lasted a lifetime. When Lavendertwist could no longer think, only sense, his Clanmates had gathered around him, covered in scratches and fear scent.
âLavender, Lavender, Lavender!â Scalepaw wailed. His paws fidgeted, reaching out toward his brother and mentor only to pull back. Trumpetspore shook, a mournful cry flowing out. Scrubmask was the opposite. Scrubmask slid Lavendertwist onto her strong back. Lavendertwist cried out, but only managed to gurgle and bubble as his death blow shrieked.
âBack to camp, right now!â Scrubmask ordered. No one dared disobey her. They ran toward the stepping stones. The cold spray off the river stun Lavendertwistâs eyes. Trumpetspore helped Scrubmask stay balanced as they waded through the low current. As soon as Scrubmask had all four paws on solid ground, she was off. Trumpetspore could only just keep up with her.Â
The territory flew by, the grass brushing Lavendertwistâs whiskers. Scrubmaskâs cream and white side turned red. His eyes were frozen, unable to blink, processing the sensation of life draining out of his throat. Scalepawâs cries rang through the trees. Grass shifted to sand. Although he was looking away, Lavendertwist could still hear the oceanâs crashing waves behind him. He caught a glimpse of RippleClanâs glorious shipwreck before Scrubmask turned and ran along the walls of camp.
âFennelspot, Troutpool!â Scrubmask cried, bursting through the entrance. Lavendertwistâs face scratched on the brambles clinging to the rocks. Fennelspot and Troutpool were already outside the medicine den, having prepared themselves to welcome injuries home from the patrol. Elmsprout had been tending the stove when the patrol entered camp. No one had to order her; she ran beside Scrubmask and gently set Lavendertwistâs dangling head on her back.
âI have you, Lavendertwist,â she promised. âYouâll be okay.â
âThe Witch Hunter slashed his neck open!â Trumpetspore wailed as the clerics escorted Scrubmask, Lavendertwist, and Elmsprout into the medicine den. âHeâs barely breathing!â Was that true? It seemed true. Lavendertwist wasnât able to ponder on that. He wasnât able to think of anything, merely glancing past the unfolding scene before moving onto the next painful sensation. His Clanmates cried out and gasped at the sight of him. James lunged toward his son, but Weedfoot, wide-eyed, kept him back. Scalepaw ran into camp and into the embrace of his parents, whimpering.
âTroutpool, cover the wound in a witch hazel salve,â Fennelspot ordered. âScrubmask, Wildclaw finished cleaning her wraps this morning, fetch them, they can help stem the bleeding.â Lavendertwist found himself in a soft, down-lined nest. Ah. That was nice. A good place to die.
âThe wound looks deep, Fennelspot,â Troutpool gulped as she shuffled through her jars of salves and ointments along the wall. âI think we need to stitch it.â
âBring in Rabbitjoy,â Fennelspot huffed as Scrubmask ran from the den. âSheâll make the process easier.â
âLavendertwist isnât a piece of leather!â Elmsprout cried, grooming Lavendertwistâs head. âHow can you stitch him?â
âItâs something we try to avoid,â Fennelspot sighed. He groomed the blood flowing from Lavendertwistâs neck and held a paw to the throbbing wound. âI had to stitch Parsleyâs tail when I tried to save it. I have a specialized sewing claw from my days in SlugClan that will let me weave sutures through the wound and close it. Itâs Lavendertwistâs best chance to survive.â Scrubmask returned and shoved freshly washed bandages onto the wound. It did nothing for the pain that began to overwhelm Lavendertwistâs senses. âElmsprout, I need you to help keep Lavendertwist still while we do this. With the placement of the wound, I canât give him painkillers.â
âIâll try,â Elmsprout gulped. She laid over Lavendertwist, purring as hard as she could. Fennelspot fetched a gaudy leather contraption from a corner of the den; a curved, pointed piece of bone that would soon pierce through Lavendertwistâs skin again and again.
Lavendertwist would survive, but as Rabbitjoy and Fennelspot sewed his neck shut, no matter how much Elmsprout and Scrubmask comforted him and kept him still, he would wish he hadnât.
(Lavendertwist: 22, male, warrior, playful, good singer, good storyteller)
As Darkkick helps Troutpool restock on betony, she realizes she isnât a tom anymore.
[Image ID: Darkkick says to Troutpool, âIt wasnât something I felt a proper cleric could admit to when I was younger.â Under Darkkick, it says LEVEL UP! MALE -> TRANS FEMALE.]
[Image ID: Clammask, Rustshade, and Weedfoot stand together, each with + CONDITION: GRIEVING underneath them. The ghosts of Twinekit, Burdockcreek, and Locustseeker stand above them.]
Fennelspot asked that Burdockcreekâs loved ones say goodbye to him before he passed. He was asleep, his breath strangled by mucus, but Fennelspot assured everyone that he would be able to hear them. He and Troutpaw moved Wildclaw back into the medicine den to give each member of the Clan their moment alone with the young historian.Â
Oilstripe asked to go first and quietly stepped into the quarantine den. Burdockcreek laid curled up in his nest, the symptoms of his deadly condition draining down his face. Oilstripe took a quiet spot beside him.
âIs it okay that I donât feel too heartbroken?â Oilstripe asked. âI donât want you to go, of course. Youâre my brother. I trained you. I donât think Iâm as close to you as Clammask or Dad, but Iâm still your older sister. Itâs just that⊠did you know Twinekit joins you on patrol some days? And Locustseeker watches us when weâre studying the world and telling stories to the kits. I still havenât seen our mom after so many moons, but our siblings visit so much, itâs like they never left. I forget thatâs not how it is for other people.
âWhat I mean to say is, Twinekit and Locustseeker are in the den with us. Twinekit insists that sheâll be the Fetcher for all of her littermates, itâs rather cute. Itâs true, Twinekit! Youâre perpetually cute. If you wanted to be taken seriously, you could have waited to die. Locustseekerâs here for moral support, Burdock. Theyâre excited to talk to you again. Youâll have a good time in StarClan. Iâll see you soon, little brother.â Oilstripe ran her tail over Burdockcreekâs feverish head and left her brother behind.
Weedfoot came in next. Her belly was swollen with her second litter, making her waddle into the den. She pressed her muzzle into Burdockcreekâs neck.
âYou were as much my apprentice as Oilstripeâs,â she muttered. âYou shouldnât be leaving before I do. Iâm sorry.â Weedfoot lingered in Burdockcreekâs unconscious embrace, unafraid of catching his disease. She only looked up when Clammaskâs soft paws padded in.
âIâm sorry,â Weedfoot gulped, sitting up and clearing her throat. âI forgot this wasnât his vigil yet. Iâm taking up your time.â
âNo, donât leave,â Clammask croaked, stepping in front of Weedfoot when she moved to go. âI donât want to say goodbye alone.â Weedfoot welcomed Clammask into her embrace, letting the golden molly rest her head under her chin. Weedfootâs warmth covered Clammask. The deputy gently licked Clammaskâs ear until she was ready to talk.
âDo you remember the last Harvest Moon,â Clammask mumbled, âwhen Burdockcreek challenged the LynxClan historians to a climbing competition? StarClan, he lost so bad, he moped behind the Leaderâs Stone for⊠for⊠I canât do this. I canât remember my brother like this.â Clammask turned away from her dying brother. Weedfoot waddled to her side and walked her out of the den.
Rustshade came in a short while later. He stared at Burdockcreek, whose breathing had grown slow in the moments since Clammask left. Rustshade couldnât keep his claws seathed.
âAre you here, StarClan?â Rustshade growled, looking up into the ceiling of the shipwreck. âYou canât take him. Why do you think you can take another of my kits from me? You donât get Burdockcreek. You canât have him.â Rustshade slipped beside his son. He closed his eyes, willing Burdockcreek to claw back from the edge and stay by his side.
(Clammask: 40, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)
(Rustshade: 90, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)
Puddlepaw and Ripplepaw are the first of their litter to earn their names. Ripplefern gets moth wings from Downstar as a gift for graduating.
[Image ID: Puddlewhisper and Ripplefern stand as adults. Ripplefern has moth wings tucked behind her ear. Above Puddlewhisper, it says LEVEL UP! PUDDLEPAW -> PUDDLEWHISPER, ODDLY OBSERVANT -> NATURAL INTUITION, MORBID CURIOSITY -> GHOST SENSE. Above Ripplefern, it says LEVEL UP! RIPPLEPAW -> RIPPLEFERN, AVID PLAY-FIGHTER -> GOOD FIGHTER, SPLASHES IN PUDDLES -> TALENTED SWIMMER, + ACCESSORY: MOTH WINGS.]
(Puddlewhisper: 12, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense)
(Ripplefern: 12, female, historian, charismatic, good fighter, talented swimmer)
The AshClan cleric, Newtstream, asks for spare thyme. Fennelspot hands some over.
[Image ID: Fennelspot and Darkkick face Newtstream, who says âI really am glad youâre alive, Darkkick.â Darkkick responds, âWhere was this concern when you let Autumnstar exile me?â]
---
Newtstream was there. She was there, in RippleClanâs camp, speaking with Fennelspot and Spikecrash like it was the most natural thing in the world. And she would notice Darkkick any second.
With his tail as tended-to as it would be for now, Parsley and Carnationspeckle offered to take Darkkick on a tour of the territory. It was strange to walk through land that Darkkick knew in passing, knowing that it may soon become as familiar to him as AshClan territory once was. With spring weather bringing life to the territory, Darkkick had a lot to say on how the caretakers were managing their gardens and utilizing the ocean. He couldnât lie, when he had been AshClanâs clerics, he dreamed of the days when heâd lead a patrol to the ocean to collect rare salt, but now, once his tail was healed, he would be able to swim in that glistening water whenever he wanted. Perhaps he should have joined RippleClan earlier.
That simple joy crumbled when Darkkickâs tour group returned to camp near sunset and saw Newtstream sitting in the sand. Darkkick kept his face still as his former apprentice noticed him. As soon as her brown eyes widened, Darkkick strolled across the clearing, ignoring how his tail ached when he held it high.
âThe rumors are true then,â Newtstream said softly, studying Darkkick. âYouâve returned to the Clans.â
âSo I have,â Darkkick huffed. He refused to break eye contact with Newtstream. He would not break first. From the corner of his eye, Darkkick could see Spikecrash get ready to interject, but Fennelspot put his tail on her worn splint.
âI donât see any reason AshClan canât use some of RippleClanâs thyme incense,â Fennelspot said. A movement of his paw broke Newtstreamâs stare. Fennelspot rolled an incense stick to Newtstreamâs paws. âThis bowl is a beautiful offering.â He placed his paw on the lip of a well-carved wooden bowl, perfect for ceremonies or meals for honored guests.
âAshClan thanks you, Fennelspot,â Newtstream said, bowing. âAnd it was good to meet you, Mediator Spikecrash. I hope your recovery continues as expected.â
âThank you,â Spikecrash gulped, casting a glance at Darkkick. âIt⊠will be nice to see you and your Clanâs mediators at my first Gathering. With the way my healing is progressing, Fennelspot says Iâll be better by the end of the season!â Spikecrash flexed her back paws. It seemed Fennelspot had done a good job.
âIf youâll speak to Halibutdusk over there,â Fennelspot explained, nodding to Halibutdusk by the oven, âhe can escort you back to AshClan.â
âMay StarClan watch over you, Fennelspot,â Newtstream said. She reached down for the incense, but paused. She stood back up and looked at Darkkick, her whiskers drooping. âI really am glad youâre alive, Darkkick.â
âWhere was this concern when you let Autumnstar exile me?â Darkkick spat. His spit flew onto the incense. Newtstream closed her eyes for a moment. Then she picked up the incense and walked toward Halibutdusk.
âSpikecrash,â Fennelspot sighed, âitâs probably better that you not mention your relationship to Darkkick around other Clans. They may not take it well.â
âBecause he was a cleric?â Spikecrash asked.
âBecause sheâs the reason Iâm not one anymore,â Darkkick growled, cocking his head at Newtstream as she left camp. âStarClan told all the clerics that RippleClan was to be founded, and when I told Autumnstar, he called me a liar and exiled me. Newtstream was my apprentice. She said nothing in my defense, even though she saw the same things I did!â He yowled in the direction of the exit, knowing full well that Newtstream would be able to hear him.
âDarkkick may not be a cleric anymore,â Fennelspot explained, rubbing against Darkkick to soothe his shaking pelt, âbut itâs better if the Clans get used to the idea of his return before hearing that he stopped keeping his oath.â
âThat oath stopped bearing weight when I followed StarClanâs will and they did nothing to protect me,â Darkkick growled.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Scalepaw is overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds of his first Gathering and panics.
[Image ID: Scalepaw runs away with + CONDITION: SENSORY OVERLOAD underneath him. Weedfoot, who has - CONDITION: GRIEVING under her, yowls âScalepaw?â Tempestshade watches behind her. Under them, it says LEVEL UP! FEMALE -> NONBINARY (THEY/THEM).]
Scalepaw walked quietly behind his mother and father, paws already aching from the long walk. Sure, if anyone spoke to him, heâd say he was excited for his first Gathering, and it wasnât a lie. He wanted to see what they were like! But RippleClan camp could be a loud and overwhelming place at times, so to imagine the sounds of the GatheringâŠ
âIâve got a lot of friends to introduce you to,â Lavendertwist said, walking alongside Scalepaw. âGladestep is a WheatClan warrior, you can show off some of your battle moves with him. Snailheartâs been teasing me ever since I came home with this collar, but youâll like him too.â Lavendertwist rubbed his collar against his shoulder. It was made of black leather and lined with gold dots. Scalepaw flinched when the collar got too close to him. How could his brother stand having that thing around his neck?
âDownstar will be introducing you to the other Clans tonight,â Waspdawn said, jogging past Puddlewhisper and Rustshade to join his little brother. âWhen she mentions your name, just sit up and let everyone cheer.â Oh stars. More cheering? Heâd barely been able to stand it when he became an apprentice! Now all the Clans would be yowling his name?
âHey, donât look like that,â Lavendertwist chuckled, gently nudging Scalepaw. âYouâll make good friends here.â Considering Scalepaw already wanted to scream, he didnât think that was true.
He could hear the crowds already. Their words dug into Scalepawâs head. He couldnât help but dig his claws in with each step, his body trying to force him back. His older siblings surrounded him like a guard patrol. They all seemed so strong and noble. So did Weedfoot and James, casually chatting as they approached the brown stone wall leading to the Leaderâs Stone.
âHurry, Wildclaw!â Rattlepelt charged past Scalepaw, free of her fox pelt, carrying a loaded basket. She bumped into Scalepaw, knocking him to the side. Her furless skin rubbed against Scalepaw like claws down his back. He barely gathered his thoughts before Wildclaw pushed past him from the other side, squeezing between him and Lavendertwist.
âSorry!â Wildclaw called as she and Rattlepelt hurried behind Downstar on the path up the wall.
âYouâre going to fall doing that!â Waspdawn yowled.
No. No no no. Scalepaw was on fire. His fur was too thick but too thin at the same time, an insult to the code of the world. His ears were bleeding, he was sure of it. He couldnât do this. He could not go up there! His feet scrambled across the cold, hard ground. He turned tail and bolted into the forest beyond the path.
âScalepaw?â Weedfoot called, but her son couldnât hear her. He could barely hear anything.
Why did everything have to hurt? Why did other cats have to look at him like that? Why couldnât he be a normal apprentice? Why, why, why? This was supposed to be fun! He was supposed to make friends! How could he ever be a warrior? How could he be the deputyâs son, but not show his face at Gatherings? He could barely talk! He was awful, awful, awful!
Scalepaw wasnât sure where he was. He was somewhere in SlugClan territory, he knew that at least. But he couldnât hear the Gathering anymore. There werenât heavy pelts pressing against him. He could actually think. Well, in a sense. It felt like his body was full of ants, but a deep, unsettling fatigue dragged at his long fur. He paced around a tree, crunching the remnants of fallen leaves. He rubbed his paw on the leaves. The leaves felt good. There werenât a hundred too-thin, too-thick hairs poking at his skin.
Green eyes shone in the moonlight. Scalepaw froze. The figureâs breathing stung his ears. They took a step forward. It was Tempestshade! What was sheâno, they, they revealed the change earlier that moonâwhat were they doing there?
âHi,â Tempestshade chirped awkwardly. âI thought I would make sure you didnât get lost. I, uh, can understand why a Gathering would be so scary.â Scalepaw just stared at them. They lived up to their suffix, Scalepaw hadnât heard them. Then again, he wasnât hearing much. Their words still hurt to hear. Scalepaw whined and pulled his paws over his ears. He was such a kit.Â
âWhy are you acting like that?â Tempestshade asked. Scalepaw had to stop. He had to approach this situation like a warrior. But how could he when everything hurt? âAlright, it seems you wonât answer me. Thatâs alright, I suppose. Iâve been like that sometimes. I was like that after my trial. And, uh, when I realized Ripplefern was dead.âÂ
They had? Other people had felt like Scalepaw felt? From the way Rustshade talked at the trial, he made it seem like Tempestshade had no remorse, that they were the epitome of selfishness, possessing the self-centered morals of a kit. Considering Scalepaw felt like a kit, maybe that was alright.
âI know thereâs dung-all I can probably do to make this stop before its time, soâŠâ Tempestshade muttered. They scooted closer to Scalepaw. âI can at least keep you company. Is that alright? Oh, you donât really talk a lot, you canât say yes⊠just whine if you donât want me here, how about that?â Scalepaw stayed quiet. His pelt still burned and his ears still screamed, ringing with the remnants of Tempestshadeâs words.
Fennelspot develops yellowcough just as Troutpool realizes some of the herb stores went bad.
[Image ID: Fennelspot sits to the side with + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH written under him. Darkkick comforts Troutpool by saying, âBreathe. Herbs are just the base. You still have ointments and concoctions.â]
The next update is taking a bit, so musings on Clan life, circa Moon 87:
Currentsmokeâs jaw healed straight, but the muscles themselves are weaker. It takes more force in his bite for him to kill prey, and sometimes chewing/moving his jaw for a while makes it ache the rest of the day.
Meanwhile, Yarrowclaw has mixed opinions on her day-night cycling. Sheâs proud of how focused and determined she feels in her day cycle, but is terrified of another psychotic episode terrorizing her friends and family. Mainly, though, the problem has been other cats acting like the feelings police and getting worried whenever she gets really energized, day cycle or not.
There isnât much distinction between stages of a romantic relationship in Clan culture (a possible future lore post), but in terms of seriousness and family bonding, Ravenweaver and Brightreed are closer mates than Wolfgaze and Billowhaze.
While Darkkick and Spikecrash donât really have a mother-daughter relationship, theyâve found their own protective instincts toward one another and have grown closer!
Whitekit still uses distant southern dialect with Mr and Ms because he noticed when he talked like that, a lot of the older cats seemed really happy. The Clan still misses Parsley.
Speaking of Parsley, she is the Celestial of RippleClan Loners, acting as a guiding force for loners who join RippleClan. She has special interest in older cats who join, such as Estherfern.
Each Clan can directly channel a spirit of StarClan through official rituals and paths about once a year due to the amount of energy StarClan actually has; since RippleClan used their early summoning almost as soon as the year began in contacting Splintcarve, Celestial of Broken Bones, the other clerics teased Estherfern and Weevilsight for that so much that Troutpool uncharacteristically snapped at them.
Slushtrail has to defuse a lot of arguments between Gingerkit and Frostkit.
Shrewpaw got into a lot of trouble during the Moon 86 Gathering because he snuck off with SlugClan apprentices to one of their âsmoke-densâ where they burn herbs like catmint and valerian to get high.
Oilstripe wakes up and wails, her dreams haunted by visions of Rustshade.
[Image ID: Oilstripe says to Carnationspeckle, âWe need a fresh start, Carny.â Under her, it says + CONDITION: NIGHTMARES, PREGNANT.]
She saw him. Oilstripe saw her father, a glimmering ghost standing between the trees, heather blue eyes coldly watching as she ran towards him. Why wouldnât he visit? Why did he have to so coldly reject his own daughter? Downstar told her she saw Rustshade in StarClan when she lost her life to the humans, a soft comfort to ease an awkward relationship, so why, why would he see Downstar and not Oilstripe? Why was he always a bit too far away for Oilstripe to reach him? He didnât need to speak! He didnât need to do anything! He just had to be the quiet, comforting backbone Oilstripe grew up with. She needed her father!
Oilstripe woke up in the earliest moments of the new day with a lump in her throat. The dull embers of the campfire glowed against the edge of the den. Oilstripeâs Clan was still asleep, piled on one another in peaceful dreams. Clammask and Halibutdusk were awake, tucked into the same nest, muttering to one another. Oilstripe and Halibutdusk made eye contact, but Oilstripe quickly looked away, trying to breathe., She crawled out of her nest. She tiptoed around Wildclaw and Rattlepelt, gently tucked under their fox pelt. Oilstripe stepped into the cool, salty night.
Scrubmaskâs ghost laid just outside the warriorâs den, startling Oilstripe. The dead warrior did not move, ears still turned to the den. Her eyes passed over Oilstripe and her raised fur. Scrubmask scoffed.
âYouâre so distracted by your dream,â she said, âI would bet you didnât notice your mate was gone.â Oilstripe looked back inside. Sure enough, Carnationspeckleâs spot by Oilstripeâs nest was empty. Oilstripe sniffed. Her mateâs scent was fresh, and still close by. She followed the scent out of camp.Â
Carnationspeckle was on guard duty. Her fur drifted in the soft breeze. When she saw Oilstripe, it was like her soul returned to her body, her usual soft glimmer sparking in her eyes once more. Oilstripe curled up beside Carnationspeckle.
âYou look tired,â Carnationspeckle whispered.
âI am,â Oilstripe mumbled. âIâm not having good dreams.â
âHave you talked to Paleseed?âÂ
âSheâs been⊠I donât know, distracted. Besides, I feel stupid for not knowing how to deal with this. Everyone else is able to grieve. I get to see other spirits all the time, and it might still hurt to know theyâre not here anymore, but I can check in on them. My dad⊠he doesnât want to see me. Heâs making the active decision to not be involved in my life anymore.â
âHe wouldnât be able to see Clammask whether or not he visited. Maybe he wanted to be fair to both of his daughters. Maybe he knew Scrubmask was going to die, and didnât want to make his own passing any worse for Clammask.â Carnationspeckle whimpered a bit as she said Scrubmaskâs name. Oilstripe sat up.
âLifeâs been hard for us lately, hasnât it,â Oilstripe sighed. Carnationspeckle leaned against Oilstripe.
âI donât like being alone in dens anymore,â Carnationspeckle muttered. âI get nervous, no matter how much I talk myself down. I get nauseous when I eat prey as-is, no matter how well-cooked it is. My mind thinks itâs raw, like it was with the Witch Hunters. I got so sick with them.â
âYou havenât told me that before.â Oilstripe nuzzled Carnationspeckleâs shoulder.
âSpikecrash has been helping me. I didnât want to give it power by mentioning it to anyone else. I thought it was getting better, and then Scrubmask⊠do you think it was a Witch Hunter? Do you think weâll ever know? Iâm terrified, Oilstripe. I donât know what to do with myself.â
âMe neither.âÂ
Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle buried their faces in one anotherâs fur, breathing in the otherâs warm scent. All Oilstripe could hear was Carnationspeckleâs soft whimpers. and the breeze in the trees. All they had lost in the past few seasons, friends and family and sleep and normalcy, bit at Oilstripe like a pack of rats. Rustshade was not there, but Oilstripe could feel her father in her heart, his voice springing to life. Youâll lose a lot more before your journeyâs done. Find something to fill the space around that void.
âWe need a fresh start, Carny,â Oilstripe sniffled, stepping back. âWeâve been chasing one tragedy after another, we need something new.â Her words got stuck in her throat. She forced them out like a cough. âWe were trying to get pregnant when you were kidnapped. Letâs try again.â Carnationspeckle stared at Oilstripe like she said the ocean was made of bone broth.
âNow?â Carnationspeckle asked. âI⊠Oilstripe, I donât know if weâre in the right place to do that.â
âAnd I donât know if we can wait!â Oilstripe groaned. She leaned her head against Carnationspeckleâs head. âRaising Troutpool with you has been incredible. Sheâs so much like you, clever and caring and good at what she does. Iâd like a kit or two like me!â
âTroutpool does have your eyes,â Carnationspeckle pointed out, a bit of laughter breaking through her sorrow and shock.
âShe and Rattlepelt are great daughters,â Oilstripe chuckled, mind fuzzy with Carnationspeckleâs scent. âMaybe we can add a son to the pot. We can teach them all about Scrubmask and my dad and, and anyone else we may lose. I want to keep going with you.â Carnationspeckle took a moment. Her breath caught. Her nose touched Oilstripeâs.
âLetâs find a suitor somewhere beside the human settlement,â Carnationspeckle gulped, a sob mixing with her joy. Oilstripe laughed, love pressing against the hole in her life as she pressed against Carnationspeckle.
Halibutdusk has been a comforting presence in Clammaskâs life for as long as she can remember, and with Scrubmask gone, she decides to commit herself to them.
[Image ID: Halibutdusk and Clammask have + MATE: CLAMMASK and + MATE: HALIBUTDUSK written under them respectively.]
---
Clammaskâs shifting and muttering woke Halibutdusk up. It had been a dreamless sleep, easy to disturb and hard to return to, which meant the rest of RippleClan was left in their peaceful slumber despite Clammaskâs state. Halibutdusk had moved their nest closer to Clammask after Scrubmaskâs death, giving them a perfect view of how Clammaskâs back leg twitched and the tip of her claws peeked out of her paws. Halibutdusk scooted to the side of Clammaskâs nest. They quietly watched their friendâs tremors. Their soft breath stirred Clammaskâs whiskers. The golden molly opened her eyes partially, the faint embers outside catching her irises.
âHalibut?â she grumbled, throwing a paw over her muzzle.
âSorry,â Halibutdusk whispered, giving Clammask room to breathe. âI wanted to check on you. Your dreams seemed cruel.â
âIn a way,â Clammask yawned, slowly blinking. She sat up, prompting Halibutdusk to their paws. She hesitated as she spoke. âYouâre a warrior, Halibutdusk. Do you ever dream about killing other cats in battle?â Halibutdusk wondered if the truth was appropriate in Clammaskâs situation. It was Clammask, though; she would understand.
âDo you remember when my littermates and I snuck out of camp to reclaim territory from AshClan?â they asked.
âOf course I do,â Clammask whispered. âDownstar was so scared when my father brought you home.â Halibutdusk felt younger for a moment, an apprentice once more, wrapped up in Wildclaw and Shadowdropâs antics, pulling them into their own. Shadowdrop clawed at Halibutduskâs heart, sticking to them like bitter honey.
âI blinded Heronflank,â Halibutdusk said. âI could have killed him. It was the first serious wound I inflicted on another cat. Outside of a few fights with rogues, I havenât hurt anyone else like that since. Sometimes, when Iâve had a difficult day, Heronflank sneaks into my dreams, and this time, I donât just blind him.â Clammask nodded softly. As she did, Halibutdusk noticed Oilstripe on the other side of the den, bright blue eyes wide. They stared at each other for a moment before Oilstripe slipped out of the den. It seemed Clammask wasnât the only cat having a difficult night.
âSo you regret it in your dreams, then,â Clammask muttered. Her shoulders tensed. âAm I wicked for not feeling regret until I wake up?â
âOnly the dead can control their dreams,â Halibutdusk reminded her. âDreams just happen. You canât be blamed for what your heart does when youâre not in control.â
âWill you judge me if I tell you what I dreamed of?â
âNever.â
âI killed the Witch Hunter that killed Scrubmask.â So it was about Scrubmask. Just not in the way Halibutdusk assumed. Clammask stared at the wall as she spoke. âI know we arenât sure it was a Witch Hunter, but who else could it have been? I dreamed I drowned them like they drowned her, and I didnât regret it.â
âI miss her too.â Halibutdusk laid back down, tucking their paws under them. âHow are the toms taking her death?â
âThey have been asking Rapidleaf for stories of when Scrubmask was an apprentice,â Clammask said. âThey donât have much else to do since three of them are still recovering from that bad rabbit. Theyâll be okay. Iâm proud of them! Theyâre strong toms. They have Scrubmaskâs spirit.â
âAnd you?â Halibutdusk wondered. Clammask was not as quick to reply this time around.
âIt feels wrong to feel better,â she eventually muttered. âIâm always going to miss her, but I donât want her death to be something that keeps me down forever. Iâm sorry, but I donât want to be like Downstar when her mood sours.â
âYou didnât offend me,â Halibutdusk promised. âMy mother knows itâs hard to be around her when sheâs struggling. She doesnât want to be like that either.â
âI never want to let Scrubmask go,â Clammask gulped, fur bristling, âbut I donât want her to keep me stuck, either. I want to carry her with me and start my life again. I want to grow closer to Oilstripe. I want to see my sons through their apprenticeships. I want to fall in love again!â Nearby warriors stirred slightly at the emotion in Clammaskâs voice. Clammask flinched and leaned closer to Halibutdusk. âIs that wrong?â
âWhy would it be?â Halibutdusk asked. Clammaskâs eyes softened. Her breath grew so slow and soft, Halibutdusk could not see her body move.
âCan we go on a walk together?â Clammask asked. Halibutdusk was about to agree when Clammask quickly muttered, âNot as friends.â Halibutdusk cocked their head. Clammask took a giant breath. âI jumped right into having kits with Scrubmask because she won me over so quickly, and I love her, but I want to see what it feels like to flirt and let a relationship grow like Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle did, or like Weedfoot and James, so if youâre interested we can see what itâs like to look at each other as mates rather than friends.â She panted as she finished her anxious rambling. âSorry. I⊠really needed to say that.â
Halibutduskâs mind was still behind. Mates? Romance? With them? Halibutdusk didnât consider themself a handsome or even good looking cat; dusky gray fur without any special markings, about as bland as a tabby could look. They had friends, there wasnât a reason they wouldnât, but for someone to actually take a romantic interest in them⊠especially Clammask, of all cats! This gorgeous golden molly who helped all the caretaker apprentices with their chores and helped Halibutdusk tell stories⊠what else could they say butâ
Parsley wanders out into the territory. She is later found dead, a peaceful expression on her face. Carnationspeckle is hit hardest.
[Image ID: Carnationspeckle and Oilstripe face Parsleyâs ghost.]
---
If RippleClan had not known about Oilstripeâs wonderous ability, they would have called her mad as she yowled at nothing, demanding that Parsley, whose gray-speckled body laid in camp, explain why âin the Dark Forest would you leave camp like that without a word to Carnationspeckle?â Carnationspeckle loved her mate and how fiercely she fought for her, even if a new part of her soul felt empty without the confident former loner in her life. Even though she was sluggish with her recently developed pregnancy, even though she still wasnât sleeping well, Oilstripe insisted she join Carnationspeckle, Rabbitjoy, and Trumpetspore in burying Parsley beside Scrubmask and Fennelspot. If Oilstripe wasnât encouraging her, Carnationspeckle wasnât sure she would have been able to make the journey to the graveyard.
Rabbitjoy had a sense of humor with Parsleyâs burial accessory. She found some parsley leaves and wove them into a wrap around the small remnant of her tail. Parsleyâs ghost was likely laughing at that. Carnationspeckle could hardly imagine Parsley with her tail, and the wrap would have been painfully tight had she been alive.Â
Had she been alive.
Burying Parsley was a quick affair. Her body had been blessed, her memory honored, and all that was left was to put her old, frail form in the dirt. Rabbitjoy and Trumpetspore took up the bearâs share of digging. Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle sat to the side, too tired to contribute. It was just after sunhigh, and it seemed like the sun wanted to treat Parsleyâs body like prey on a fire, cooking everyone else with her. They buried her in the shade, all four mollies silently noting that Parsley would have been upset if she was buried in the middle of the hot sunshine.
According to Oilstripe, Parsley agreed with that. The awkward expressions on Rabbitjoy and Trumpetsporeâs faces silenced any further ghostly discussion.
âStarClan, that took a while,â Rabbitjoy sighed as she kicked the last of the dirt over Parsleyâs body. âEnjoy your rest, Parsley. RippleClan is glad to have met you.â
âI know I have no say in tonightâs meal,â Trumpetspore said, grooming clumps of dirt off her paws, âbut I remember Scrubmask telling me how she convinced Parsley to stay in RippleClan. I believe she won her over with some pemmican. Could we make that for the Clan in Parsleyâs honor?â
âMosspounce and Wildclaw are on stove duty tonight,â Rabbitjoy sighed, âbut if you mention that idea, they should agree. We just have to check the ingredients. What do you think, Carnationspeckle?â
âI like that,â Carnationspeckle said, a bit of life returning to her voice.
âLetâs head home, then,â Rabbitjoy said, patting Parsleyâs grave.
âActually,â Oilstripe said, nuzzling Carnationspeckle, âwe may stay here a while longer.â They would? Carnationspeckle looked back at her mate. Why linger in the loss? Hadnât they promised each other only half a moon before that they would work to grow around the holes in their spirits? But Oilstripe placed her tail over Carnationspeckleâs, and the brown ticked molly remembered how much she trusted her star-sighted mate.
âIf you need to,â Rabbitjoy said. She touched noses with each molly and said, âWeâll be sure to save you both some pemmican. Weâll see you back at camp.â Rabbitjoy flicked her ears at Trumpetspore. The black molly nodded to Oilstripe and Carnationspeckle, then followed Rabbitjoy out of the graveyard, bugs singing them home.
âWhat are you thinking?â Carnationspeckle asked when Rabbitjoy and Trumpetspore were out of earshot.
âThe better question would be, what is Parsley thinking,â Oilstripe awkwardly admitted, laying on her side. Carnationspeckle looked around, as though she expected to develop Oilstripeâs gift and see her tortoiseshell friend standing at her own grave. âIt turns out that my little outburst in camp gave her a few things to say to you before Applepelt takes her away.âÂ
âApplepeltâs here?â Carnationspeckle gasped. âHow are they?â
âAs silly as usual,â Oilstripe chuckled. She gave a performative gasp and scoffed, âDonât make that face at me! You know Iâm right!âÂ
Carnationspeckle purred at that. It was hard to picture Applepeltâs brown face and friendly eyes, but knowing she did her best to stay a part of her friendsâ lives eased the loss a bit. Truthfully, the more Carnationspeckle embraced Oilstripeâs sight, the weaker death struck her vigil after vigil. In some ways, they werenât dead at all; they were just across the border, or on a quest, their reunion with Carnationspeckle guaranteed.
âSo whatâs about to happen?â Carnationspeckle asked, laying next to Oilstripe.Â
âIâll tell you what Parsley says,â Oilstripe explained. Carnationspeckle nodded and closed her eyes. The warmth of the sun acted like a fire on a chilly night. The buzzing bugs quieted the sorrow in her heart and her many questions. âWhat are you doing?â
âIf I donât close your eyes, Iâll just hear you, not Parsley,â Carnationspeckle explained. Oilstripe hummed and scooted closer to Carnationspeckle. To Carnationspeckleâs ears, it was not Oilstripe that spoke next, but Parsley.
âHello again, stranger.â
Carnationspeckle couldnât help it; she gave an undignified, snorting sort of laugh.
âIs that what you think she sounds like?â she laughed, staring at her flushed mate.
âYou all need to stop laughing at me, that is an accurate accent!â Oilstripe whined, her whiskers giving away her shared laughter. The bugs almost sounded like Applepelt and Parsley, laughing at Oilstripeâs odd attempt to translate for Carnationspeckle. Carnationspeckle rested her head in the direction of Parsleyâs grave and closed her eyes once more, purring.
âHi, Parsley,â she said.
âI suppose Ms. Oilstripe was right,â Parsley sighed. âKnowing how the Clans work, I probably shouldnât have just wandered off to die like that. You gotta understand though, Carnationspeckle, some cats⊠we just wanna be alone in our last moments. You can feel death coming up on you, and you donât want everyone crying and screeching over you. Itâs a natural thing, you know. Most cats are solitary folk. Death, it makes you scared. You feel weak, knowing you canât protect yourself. Donât get me wrong, I felt as safe as can be in RippleClan, but itâs not the sort of instinct you can easily ignore.â
âI just wish you went to fetch me, instead,â Carnationspeckle muttered. âYou were old enough to be my mother many times over, but ever since you came to RippleClan, I considered you one of my closest friends. Why else would I trust you to watch Troutpool when she was a kit?â
âAnd I loved that, donât misunderstand me,â Parsley said. âI wasnât seeing clearly. Literally, the world looked covered in fog, and my ears felt like they were full of bugs! You try to think logically when you feel like that.â
âBut if you had been thinking clearly, would you have let me know? I could have been with you. Wasnât it lonely, dying outside of camp like that?â
âOh, it wasnât so bad. I felt a bit better curled up in a bush like that. It was what I needed. But yes, to answer your question, I would have let you know. I might have still wanted to go out on my own, though.â Carnationspeckleâs body tightened.Â
âAll I thought when I was with the Witch Hunters was, I donât want to die away from my family.â She couldnât help it, she was crying again, shaking despite Oilstripeâs pressure on her side. âI hate thinking you might have felt like that. I donât want anyone to feel like that.â
âAnd I didnât, Carnation. I really didnât. I know Iâll be the wild old molly in a lot of catsâ memories, and Iâm happy with that. Donât feel bad for me, really. Iâm excited to see what your afterlife is all about, what with all the recent noise around death and ghosts weâve been through. And apparently, I can come visit whenever Iâd like, so Iâll be doing that a bit. Iâll be lingering around the nursery once your next litter is born, I can promise you that. Now, I know you canât feel it, but Iâm pressing my nose against your head. Just imagine it for me, alright? And donât feel too bad for old Parsley. Sheâs got it under control.âÂ
A cool nose touched Carnationspeckle. She gasped, eyes flying open, only to find it was Oilstripeâs nose on her head, not Parsleyâs. Carnationspeckle leaned into it, purring through her pain.
(Parsley: 156, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)
Paleseed and Darkkick discuss Terracottafootâs proposition.
[Image ID: Darkkick says to Paleseed, âWhy do you think you have to live up to anyone?â]
---
Darkkick did not want to be alone with Tempestshade. The cursed caretaker was an incredible cook and could stir a purr out of even Darkkickâs grumpy old heart with their kit-like antics, but, at no fault of their own, they were still cursed, and Darkkick didnât trust that she would make it home if she left camp with just Tempestshade at her side. So, when Tempestshade invited her to collect a few fresh herbs for a heart-strengthening stew, Darkkick casually dragged Paleseed with her.
Tempestshade trotted ahead with a basket, leading the pair through the humming mid-morning forest toward their favorite herb patches. They sang under their breath, seemingly happy just to have some company as they hunted down fresh thyme. Darkkick and Paleseed walked beside one another, enjoying the sunshine through the trees and the warm dirt under their paws.
âWe donât need you destroying any of these roots, remember that!â Darkkick called to Tempestshade.
âI know better than to do that!â Tempestshade laughed, spinning around and walking backwards. âBesides, who wants thyme roots in their stew? No thank you!â They spun back the right way and continued their happy trot.
âI donât think thyme strengthens the heart,â Paleseed whispered to Darkkick.
âWhatever they have planned, it should taste good at least,â Darkkick sighed. Paleseed hummed in agreement. Her tail twitched with unspoken nerves. Her chin drooped and her eyes grew lost in thought.Â
âHarvest Moon is less than a moon away,â Paleseed muttered. She glanced Tempestshadeâs way, but the young caretaker was too absorbed in their task to hear. âMy mom and I spoke with Terracottafoot, and we agreed to help them with the Autumnstar situation.â
âReally?â Darkkick scoffed, unable to stop the ice in her voice. âThat Clan was going to let Weedfoot die, and now she wants to help them?â
âYou didnât hear her at the Gathering,â Paleseed huffed, head rising to contest Darkkickâs ire. âShe talked to a lot of the AshClan cats there. Theyâre so apologetic. Whether they were alive back then or not, most of the Clan regrets what they did to my mother and her friends. She wonât let Autumnstar hurt more cats.â Darkkickâs pace slowed. Paleseed sounded more like her namesake than herself for a moment. The summer sunâs glimmer on her pelt reminded Darkkick of Paleshadeâs ginger patches.
The moment faded as quick as it came. Paleseed ducked her head once more, her moment of confidence come and gone.
âAnd you?â Darkkick sighed. âYouâre no fighter, Paleseed. I donât know what StarClan expects you to do in the Dark Forest.â
âI donât know either,â Paleseed admitted, âbut I want to be brave. I want to do my part to make a difference in someoneâs life.â
âYou do that just fine already,â Darkkick scoffed, stopping altogether. Tempestshade didnât notice, continuing through the trees without them. Paleseed stood in front of her, confused. âYou donât need to give up your life for a Clan that never wanted you born.â
âMaybe Iâm not just doing it for AshClan, then,â Paleseed suddenly snapped, her tail bristling. âMaybe I want to do more than help grieving cats. How am I ever supposed to live up to Paleshade if I canât do what StarClan asks of me?â Darkkickâs scarred tail pointed down. Her small ears tilted to the sides.Â
âWhy do you think you have to live up to anyone?â Darkkick growled. âYou think you have to be a hero to be important? You think you have to be Paleshade? If you werenât aware of it, you arenât Paleshade. Youâre your own cat, you can do nothing else with your life and still be as important as she was.â Paleseedâs frustrated warped to shock as her bristling tail slid between her legs. âBy the stars, donât be scared! You think Iâm mad at you? Iâm just trying to tell you that forcing yourself to live up to what others want of you will just make you miserable. Being a cleric, a tom, an AshClan cat, that was what everyone else wanted for me. My family, Autumnstar, even StarClan! If I donât have to be those things, what makes you think you have to be Paleshade? Do you think Waspdawn believes he has to live up to a long dead apprentice? Does Lavendertwist have to pretend to be the molly Rabbitjoy fell in love with? You shouldnât be going on a dangerous quest like this just because itâs what Paleshade would have done!âÂ
By the end of it all, Darkkick was out of breath. Paleseedâs eyes were huge, staring at the old molly as she panted and tried to smooth her pelt. Paleseed gulped, forcing her tail out from under her. Darkkick sat, the rain-hungry trail exploding in dust and coating her flank.
âMediators would call that a breakthrough,â Paleseed muttered, slightly out of breath.Â
âWell,â Darkkick huffed with a lick of her chest, âit needed to be said.â
âI still want to do it,â Paleseed said. âI promised Terracottafoot I would help. I think you should help too.â
âYou think you can convince me?â Darkkick sighed.
âItâs not exactly the sort of reason a mediator should give for something like thisâŠâ Paleseed groaned, tail circling overhead as she approached, âbut spite. Do it out of spite.â
âSpite,â Darkkick said, monotone.
âAutumnstar hurt you,â Paleseed said, sitting. âIt might help you if you got to show him how much youâve grown since then.â Darkkick thought it over, rolling the word on her tongue. Spite. Spite.
âYou should have someone else go with you anyway,â Darkkick conceded. âIf I need to go with youââ
âWhatâs slowing you down?â Tempestshade trotted back down the path, ears tilted down. âHow long have you been standing there?â
âSorry, we got distracted,â Paleseed said, slinking to Tempestshadeâs side. âWe just⊠had to talk something through. I think weâre in agreement now.âÂ
That they were.
(Darkkick: 122, trans female, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)