#elmsprout

There was a lot to do to prepare for the Gathering that night. RippleClan had recovered enough from the Ocean's Assault to properly contribute to the Gathering again, and thus loaded their baskets with fresh-kill and goods for trade. It seemed Oilstar invited everyone who could attend that night, perhaps a show of strength to the new leader of AshClan. Lichenstar was on Lavendertwist's mind as well, but for different reasons than his respected leader. The collared historian sat with his children by the artisan's den, his shadow cast over them both.

"Our Clanmates are going to make a lot of harsh comments about Eelstar tonight," Lavendertwist warned his kits as Frostdancer packed pouches of salt along a heavy cord and Gingerspring groomed himself. "I don't want your mother to have to hear any of it. Even though she left AshClan, she cared for her father, and she deserves a chance to mourn him."

"I would never make it worse for her," Frostdancer huffed, scooping the last pouch into the pot of salt at her paws. "I assume you're talking about cats who don't know when to stop talking." Frostdancer glared at Gingerspring as she tightened the pouch in her teeth.

"I talk with AshClan cats all the time," Gingerspring scoffed. "I'm the perfect mourner around them. She doesn't have to worry about me. She should worry about the stories you like to tell at the Gathering."

"I'm not going to talk about the Ashes in the Water tonight!" Frostdancer snapped.

"Your mother also doesn't need any fighting tonight," Lavendertwist groaned, batting both kits on the head. "You're littermates! You can both get along for your mother's sake."

"I won't say anything about Eelstar tonight, Dad," Gingerspring promised as Frostdancer pulled the heavy necklace of salt pouches around her neck.

"I'll takee that, at least," Lavendertwist sighed, purposefully ignoring the bitter look Gingerspring shot at Frostdancer.

"Grab your baskets, everyone!" Oilstar yowled near the camp entrance, adjusting the leaves in her fur. "We need to leave now if we want to beat AshClan to the Leader's Stone! Let's keep on our paws tonight!" Wildclaw hurried out of the nursery, the smell of her recently adopted litter whafting off her pelt. She took her place beside Oilstar and led the way out of camp. Lavendertwist scrambled into the crowd, searching for the gray and white pelt he so adored.

"Lavendertwist!" Elmsprout's tail stuck over the crowd. Lavendertwist shimmied past his Clanmates into the heart of the group, where Elmsprout walked alongside Halibutdusk.

"Are you ready for tonight?" Lavendertwist asked, nuzzling his mate as he matched the Clan's pace.

"Ready for the whole Gathering to ask me how I'm coping," Elmsprout sighed. "That's why I asked Halibutdusk to sit with us tonight. I could use a buffer."

"I'm going to assume that is a compliment," Halibutdusk hummed with a flick of their ear.

The snow outside of camp was smushed down by countless paws trekking back and forth. Oilstar and Wildclaw led RippleClan along the pawprints of earlier border patrols, deep and trailing, easily disrupted by excited paws and heavy baskets. The sunset was dull with the heavy clouds, more like a black pelt dragged across the land than a beautiful color show. At least the pride of RippleClan kept everyone warm.

"I hope the clouds aren't a bad sign," Elmsprout sighed as RippleClan reached the dark treeline, abandoning the glow of the camp fire. "I heard that generations ago, the Clans would have canceled the whole Gathering over this."

"If StarClan wants us to meet in winter," Halibutdusk pointed out, "we have to tolerate a moonless night."

"I can just hear AshClan worrying about Eelstar's spirit," Elmsprout groaned. "They'll say my father sent the clouds for one reason or another!"

"I'll keep them off you tonight," Lavendertwist promised.

It wasn't long before RippleClan found the border of WheatClan and AshClan and started the next leg of the journey to the Leader's Stone. Just as Lavendertwist leaned in to lick his mate's cheek, absorbed in conversation, Vervaincough stumbled into him, pushing against the flow of the crowd.

"Sorry, Lavendertwist!" Vervaincough gulped, scampering backward out of the rush of cats. "I'm just trying to get to the back."

"Vervain, will you make sure to see me later tonight?" Halibutdusk asked. Vervaincough drifted further back, but Halibutdusk dragged their paws. "The clerics are sharing ancestor sightings tonight. I want to see if they've spotted your mother and sisters in StarClan."

"I promise to sit with you," Vervaincough called, jogging backward. She hurried to the far back of the crowd, where Slushtrail wandered with her gaze drifting around the dark trees. Vervaincough gently nudged Slushtrail and spoke softly with the brown and white mediator. Lavendertwist quickly remembered the tom who was supposed to be walking alongside his sister, a tom Lavendertwist mentored, a tom who could have done so much more. Lavendertwist's scar burned with bittersweet memories.

"I should join that tonight," Lavendertwist muttered as he, Elmsprout, and Halibutdusk rediscovered their pace. "It would be nice to better understand how Tallowheart is doing. And Billowhaze. And… Splashtuft."

"Poor Drumtooth," Elmsprout whimpered. "He and his brothers just don't know how to react. I think it's why those three volunteered to stay behind tonight. They need some time to really work through his disappearance. And don't get me started on Floodsplash. She finally goes back to her duties after the flood, and she plummets into a depression with Billowhaze's death. Maybe the new kits will balance out all the loss."

"I don't like gossiping about mourning cats," Halibutdusk muttered, ears twitching down.

"I'm not trying to be cruel," Elmsprout insisted. "I'm letting you know how they're coping."

"To be fair, Elm," Lavendertwist groaned with a twirl of his tail, "a lot of cats will be 'letting each other know how you're coping' tonight. And I don't think you like that." Elmsprout mrowed softly, caught in her hypocrisy. She dipped her head and cleared her throat.

"Maybe I should see if Terracottafoot has seen my father in StarClan," Elmsprout admitted. "I… I do hope we can meet again in Silverpelt." Halibutdusk and Lavendertwist nodded.

"Dog! Dog! Dog!" Lavendertwist almost didn't hear the yowl above the chatter of the crowd. He glanced behind him, the first to turn his head.

The dog came from AshClan. Lavendertwist saw it charge across the border, ignoring the frantic yowls of AshClan cats behind it. It was a muscular white beast with a curling tail that blended into the shadowed snow. Thick slobber dribbled along its pointed chin. A hundred tragedies filled Lavendertwist's mind. Dogs with foaming mouths, infecting survivors with a disease no cleric could ever hope to cure.

By the time the rest of the Clan heard what Lavendertwist heard, the dog was right behind Vervaincough.

The dog collied with Vervaincough like a kit stumbling over a moss-ball. Snow flew around them like an explosion. A spray of blood soared out from the chaos. RippleClan panicked. Some pushed forward, mediators and artisans who lacked the training to take down such a big dog. Others surged against the fear, hurrying to Vervaincough's aid. The black codekeeper's cries pierced the night like a stalking owl.

Lavendertwist was almost lifted off the ground by the opposing forces pushing against him. Halibutdusk, meanwhile, shouldered Ravenweaver aside as she ran past them and broke free of the swarm. Lavendertwist followed their path, jumping over Elmsprout. Four AshClan warriors surged across the border just as Lavendertwist, Halibutdusk, and the other RippleClan warriors reached Vervaincough and the dog.

A sea of warriors smashed into the slobbering dog. A dozen different pelts, black and ginger and brown and blue, smeared against the dog's scruffy white fur. Warriors of both AshClan and RippleClan dragged the dog off the quivering red-stained mass that was Vervaincough. Lavendertwist never even laid a paw on the dog; the rest of his Clan dealt with the beast with such a feral fury that he could turn his attention to Vervaincough.

Vervaincough was a mess of deep bite wounds. Blood pooled around her collarbone. Her lean muscles quivered with painful spasms. Wild silver eyes shook as Halibutdusk crouched by their daughter's face, noting each and every lethal blow.

"Dad," Vervaincough croaked, paws twitching.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm not letting you go," Halibutdusk stammered, shoving their muzzle under Vervaincough's bloody shoulder. They lifted their daughter up. Vervaincough's neck dangled, dripping into the snow. Halibutdusk's blown-out amber eyes barely took in the swarm of fury at their side, a horde of warriors that slowly wore down the dog's strength and beat it into the snow. Halibutdusk turned to Lavendertwist, who stared horrified, and screamed, "Help me!"

Lavendertwist bolted to Halibutdusk's side. He slipped under Vervaincough's flank. His pelt grew sticky with her blood. Memories of his near-fatal neck wound returned in a terrified haze. Lavendertwist dug his jaw into his skull and fought the memories off. The dog was no longer moving, but the warriors still beat into it, completely consumed in their outrage. Lavendertwist and Halibutdusk could not wait for an explanation from AshClan or orders from RippleClan. They simply ran, balancing Vervaincough on their backs.

The pair retraced the Clan's path back to camp. It made it easy to move through the snow, although Lavendertwist and Halibutdusk were not of the mind to appreciate that. Gray skies turned black as the night strengthened its hold over the territory. Lavendertwist's back burned with Vervaincough's intense heat. His legs felt as though they would fall off in his effort to match Halibutdusk's wild pace.

As Lavendertwist and Halibutdusk reached RippleClan's forest and the smell of saltwater returned to the trees, Vervaincough's haggard breathing slowed.

The brambles lining the camp entance tore at Lavendertwist's side when he and Halibutdusk returned. Honeybuzz, Drumtooth, and Leathermask sat around the camp bonfire, sharing tongues when the smell of blood hit their noses. A horrid mrow escaped Drumtooth's throat when he saw Vervaincough.

"A dog," Halibutdusk panted, running past the three borhters to the medicine den. "A damn dog came out from AshClan! Help her! Honeybuzz, help her!" Vervaincough tumbled into Estherfern's nest; no one had the time to care about who's nest was whos. Honeybuzz slipped between Halibutdusk and Lavendertwist and crouched beside Vervaincough's wounds.

Lavendertwist backed out of the medicine den. He almost bumped into Leathermask and Drumtooth, who watched wide-eyed from the entrance. Mitespark, belly heavy with milk and eyes droopy from the strain of kitting, peeked out of the nursery, trying to gauge what was going on. Waspdawn and Vasco crept out of the quarantine den, still a little shaky from yellowcough but strong enough to investigate the panicked sounds in the medicine den.

That was when a desperate, hopeless wail broke through the camp. Lavendertwist didn't have to look inside to know it was Halibutdusk. He didn't have to look to know what happened.

It all happened so fast. Lavendertwist's head buzzed. Was the rest of the Clan coming back to camp? Were they still going to the Gathering? This was supposed to be a fun night. Why did Lavendertwist's Clanmates have to suffer like this? Couldn't RippleClan have a season where someone didn't die?

"Dad!" Lavendertwist's skin jumped. Gingerspring hurried into camp, a basket of herbs bouncing against his chest. Dried plants flew out of the basket in Gingerspring's wild run. He stepped on the bloodstained snow, staining his pads.

"Dad, how's Vervaincough?" Gingerspring huffed, skidding to a stop in front of his father. "I came back in case Honeybuzz needs help. Oilstar is handling the dog, I think—"

Lavendertwist wrapped himself around Gingerspring. The blood smeared onto his back rubbed onto Gingerspring, camoflagued in his orange fur. Halibutdusk's wail rippled deep into the hearts of everyone in camp.

"Dad?" Gingerspring gulped. Lavendertwist pressed harder into his son. Gingerspring shoved his muzzle into his father's shoulder.

When you're a father, it is important to count your blessings. No one knows when they could slip away.

(Lavendertwist: 69, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Frostdancer: 19, female, artisan, confident, masterful storyteller)

(Gingerspring: 19, male, cleric, charismatic, human expert, good hunter)

(Oilstar: 107, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Elmsprout: 70, female, caretaker, charismatic, trusted advisor)

(Halibutdusk: 95, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Vervaincough: 38, female, codekeeper, insecure, understands nature, good mediator)

Quickpaw joins Wolverineheart, Thundergale, and Midnightpaw training. The half-blind warrior gives them both hope for the future.

[Image ID: Quickpaw and Midnightpaw, now in an adult sprite, sit in front of Wolverineheart and Thundergale.]

---

Quickpaw pounced first, living up to her prefix. Midnightpaw braced himself. His paws sank deep into the wet sand of Battle Beach. He kept his head at an angle, uncovered eye focused on Quickpaw, bandaged eye shielded. But could he keep it so?

Quickpaw spun around Midnightpaw. His bandage flashed clear for just a moment before he countered and faced Quickpaw once more. Quickpaw repeated her move. She lept over Midightpaw, and Midnightpaw once more countered. This wouldn't be as easy as it seemed. Midnightpaw's form was softer and rounder than other toms his age, but growing muscle stretched under that fluff. It was the sort of build that made Quickpaw assume Midnightpaw's fighting style was brutish and slow. But perhaps that was intentional.

Midnightpaw batted at Quickpaw's face, overwhelming her whiskers with too much input. Midnightpaw spun on his front legs. He kicked Quickpaw in the side.

"It seems unfair that he can go for my face, but I can't go for his," Quickpaw groaned as she locked herself around Midnightpaw's unprotected front legs. Midnightpaw dropped all his weight on Quickpaw's head. Sand smeared into her nose.

"You can explain to Estherfern why the scars on his eye reopened, then!" Wolverineheart called from her perch in the grass, laughing. Thundergale sat at her side, focused on each apprentice's moves. The sisters' brown pelts glowed in the morning light that richocheted off the gray winter sea. The snow had faded with an uncharacteristically warm day, but the deep cold that once more claimed the land promised more snow soon to come.

Midnightpaw laughed and let Quickpaw up. Quickpaw snorted out sand and shook out her pelt.

"Floodsplash taught me the trick with my eye," Midnightpaw purred, licking sand off Quickpaw's chest.

"You're good," Quickpaw panted. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You have more moons of sparring under your paws than I do."

"And I'm just better," Midnightpaw chuckled, sticking his tongue out. Quickpaw smacked Midnightpaw's shoulder, laughing.

"Alright, alright, let's review how you did," Wolverineheart said. She and Thundergale joined the apprentices on the sand. Quickpaw sat tall and polite, just as her SlugClan mentor taught her. Midnightpaw, meanwhile, laid on his back and watched the older mollies upside-down.

Wolverineheart nodded to Thundergale. Thundergale purred and began to sign. A touch of shame warmed Quickpaw's face. She was a historian now, she should be able to understand one of her most famous Clanmates. Yet Thundergale's quick flicks of her paw, the little twitches in her whiskers, all looked the same to poor Quickpaw. At least Wolverineheart could translate.

"You're really mastering Floodsplash's technique, Midnightpaw!" Thundergale signed with a purr. "Hopefully your eye heals well and you won't have to worry about guarding that side of your face. If Estherfern gives you bad news, though, I think you can handle yourself in a fight. You should work on partner fighting next. If you have someone else to watch your bad side, you don't have to be as cautious."

"It feels…" Midnightpaw hummed, with Wolverineheart translating back for Thundergale, "manageable, I think that's the word. It feels alright to not notice everything. Does that make sense?"

"It does to me," Thundergale assured him. She then turned toward Quickpaw. "Quickpaw, I could tell you struggled since you couldn't hit Midnightpaw's face. Try to take it as a chance to learn. Practice more moves that target the legs and tail. You don't want to rely on just a few battle moves."

"I know more moves," Quickpaw huffed. "It threw me off when I wanted to smack Midnightpaw's face, but had to remind myself I couldn't."

"Consider it a challenge," Thundergale suggested.

"Do you think I can graduate?" Midnightpaw asked, tail tilting up in misplaced hope. "I did well, right?"

"Midnightpaw," Wolverineheart sighed. Her kits may have only been a half moon old, but she had already mastered a maternal, disappointed tone that made Quickpaw's heart catch and the sound of her own mother slip through her ears. "We talked about this. You've missed a lot of training. It will take a few more moons before you're ready to be a warrior."

"I'm an adult now, though," Midnightpaw whined. "I beat Quickpaw. I can hunt. Isn't that enough? I can't still be in the apprentice's den when the new kits become apprentices! What sort of big brother would I be if I can't graduate?"

"I understand, I promise I do," Wolverineheart purred. She stopped translating for Thundergale, instead patting her sister's shoulder and moving closer to the two apprentices. She spoke in softer tones, gentle eyes flicking between Quickpaw and Midnightpaw. "I know you're both excited to graduate. You want to be responsible, respected. You're both a year old now, and I know Boughfur and I are trying to give you some space because of that. Just trust that you'll graduate before too long. This will all be a distant memory this time next year. Does that help?"

"Quickpaw has to graduate with me," Midnightpaw huffed, slapping a paw against her back. "It wouldn't be right for her to get left behind." Quickpaw couldn't find her words for a second. One moment, Midnightpaw was begging to graduate, the next he wanted Quickpaw at his side? What a strange tom.

"I'm the older one here," Quickpaw chuckled, shaking her head. "What makes you think you wouldn't be left behind?"

"Because I can do this, and you can't," Midnightpaw hummed, mischief glinting in his eyes. Midnightpaw smashed his flank into Quickpaw with a sudden twist, throwing the brown apprentice off her feet.

"We'll see about that!" Quickpaw roared, laughter bubbling through. She rolled back up just in time to brace for Midnightpaw's charge.

As Quickpaw and Midnightpaw traded blows and gouged the sand, Wolverineheart stepped back, rejoining Thundergale and loafing as she watched. Quickpaw could hear Wolverineheart's deep purr over the beat of her own heart and Midnightpaw's quick swipes. She dodged Midnightpaw's second swipe and locked herself around his back leg.

She wouldn't lose this time!

(Quickpaw: 13, female, historian apprentice, ambitious, good swimmer)

(Midnightpaw: 12, male, warrior apprentice, oblivious, always wandering)

(Wolverineheart: 35, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Thundergale: 35, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)

Halibutdusk’s angry comment during a border meeting with the new leader, Lichenstar, leads to a fight. Leathermask walks away with a badly torn pelt while Asterblaze sports a deep bite wound.

[Image ID: Halibutdusk, Rapidleaf, Asterblaze, and Leathermask stare down the new leader of AshClan, Lichenstar, a ginger and gray tortoiseshell. Halibutdusk growls, "You killed her. do you know that? your clan’s inattention drove a rabid dog into my daughter." Under Rapidleaf, it reads LEVEL UP! LONESOME → SNEAKY. Under Asterblaze, it says + CONDITION: BITE WOUND. Under Leathermask, it says + CONDITION: TORN PELT.]

(Halibutdusk: 95, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Rapidleaf: 121, female, warrior, sneaky, prophecy interpreter)

(Asterblaze: 50, male, caretaker, thoughtful, inventor and innovator)

(Leathermask: 51, male, warrior, confident, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

Weevilsight comes back shivering with frostbite while asking WheatClan to help with Midnightpaw’s eyes.

[Image ID: Estherfern says to Weevilsight, "His scars have almost healed, weevilsight... you wasted your time." Under Weevilsight, it says + CONDITION: FROSTBITE.]

(Estherfern: 137, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

Currentsmoke expresses his concern about Yarrowclaw's recent behavior.

[Image ID: Mosspounce, Wolfgaze, Sandhollow, Weevilsight, and Anchovystrike run in a patrol, with Mosspounce calling "Yarrowclaw, get off the horse-path." Under Weevilsight, it says - INFECTION.]

---

Anchovystrike couldn't really share tongues with his brother, not like he wished he could. After all, Currentsmoke couldn't groom him back. It didn't help that the thick wound across Currentsmoke's face was still infected, covered in oozing concoctions. Weevilsight said the infections came and went, but to Anchovystrike, it all seemed like one big, continous disease. Yet that didn't matter. Injured or not, Currentsmoke was going to enjoy the anniversary celebration with the rest of RippleClan, basking in the sunhigh glow.

Most of the Clan was busy around Elmsprout and Lavendertwist. They had just given their litter of two, Frostkit and Gingerkit, their names, and everyone wanted to show the two tiny kittens what the warm sand and cool sea felt like. Meanwhile, the artisans and caretakers used some of RippleClan's precious salt to season enough prey for everyone. Anchovystrike and Weevilsight shared a woodpecker while Weevilsight helped Currentsmoke drink some salty, herb-soaked broth. The three cats basked in the summer sunshine, content with their meals.

"You know, Currentsmoke," Weevilsight sighed, nestling into the sand, "if you end up with a big scar from this, you won't be alone. Most of my tail has healed, but fighting that infection left a lot of the skin raw." Weevilsight showed off her tail, which no longer sported any bandages, as it had over the last few moons. Yet the skin was still pink and raw, irritated from exposure to other cats' diseases. The scarring ran across her ginger and black fur like new tortoiseshell markings. Had Weevilsight been a warrior, it would have been a mark of beauty.

"I duhn't care ah-out scars," Currentsmoke grumbled. "I just 'anna li'eh."

"You're not dying on us," Anchovystrike huffed, shoving Currentsmoke's shoulder. "You've got four clerics looking after you, and you've got me, Billowhaze, and Yarrowclaw keeping you busy. You're the best of us, Current. You're not going anywhere anytime soon." Currentsmoke purred and gently bunted heads with his brother, making sure not to touch his wounds. The supernatural glimmer in Weevilsight's pelt glowed brighter at the sight, and Anchovystrike purred just a bit harder. Yet as Anchovystrike dug into his share of the woodpecker, Currentsmoke tensed. Anchovystrike could feel Currentsmoke's tired muscles harden as he rested against him.

"More pain, Currentsmoke?" Weevilsight asked. She sniffed at Currentsmoke's jaw.

"Nuh," Currentsmoke mumbled. He scanned the happy crowd trapsing through the sand and salt water. Anchovystrike followed his gaze, unsure what he was looking for. "Souh'ing's wruhng 'ith Yarr'acla'ah."

"Yarrowclaw?" Anchovystrike clarified.

"She has been a little strange the last few moons," Weevilsight admitted. "Did you hear about her hunting patrol last moon?"

"She's been overworking herself, I know," Anchovystrike huffed. "But she realizes it eventually. She just gets into these moods lately."

"It's muhre than that," Currentsmoke insisted. The injured tom groaned and slowly pushed himself to his paws. His legs shook, his body's battle with his injuries draining too much strength from him to stay up for long. "She's nuh't here. Souh'ing's wruhng." Weevilsight pushed against Currentsmoke, making sure he didn't collapse. Currentsmoke tried to shake Weevilsight off, but hissed as the bandages restraining his jaw rubbed the wrong way.

Anchovystrike gave the anniversary celebration another look over. Was Yarrowclaw with Billowhaze? No, Billowhaze was joking with Wolfgaze and Ravenweaver over their own share of salty meat. Maybe she was spending time with her former mentor. No, that wasn't right either, Rapidleaf was talking through something with Estherfern, probably bonding over recent messages from StarClan or something of the sort. Yarrowclaw was close with Estherfern's litter, she was probably splashing through the water with them! And yet, no. Brightreed, Wolverineheart, Boughfur, and Thundergale were each busy with their own fun. Currentsmoke was right. Yarrowclaw wasn't at the anniversary celebration.

"Why do you think something is wrong?" Weevilsight asked, easing Currentsmoke back down.

"I heard her," Currentsmoke groaned. "She f'isited 'e. She didn't 'ake sense. She said she was going to cah'lete a rituh'al to cuh're 'e."

"To cure you?" Weevilsight muttered. "But we've said all the prayers we can think of. Estherfern even helped Honeybuzz commune with the Celestial of Broken Bones herself for extra advice and blessings. What could Yarrowclaw do?"

"She's in dang'ah!" Currentsmoke snapped. He tried to stand again, but his rising nerves worked in tamdem with his weakness and send him back into the sand.

"Rabbitjoy mentioned something about a ritual last moon," Anchovystrike realized. "That was why Yarrowclaw caught all that prey." Anchovystrike stood, shaking sand out of his fur. "You're right, Currentsmoke. I don't like this. I… I think I misunderstood what Yarrowclaw's been going through. We need to find her."

"I'm with you, Anchovy," Weevilsight promised, stretching. "I'm going to fetch Honeybuzz so he can look after Currentsmoke. Think you can put together a patrol?"

"Easily," Anchovystrike purred, nodding. He rubbed against Currentsmoke and said, "Don't worry, Current. We'll make sure Yarrowclaw is alright." Weevilsight and Anchovystrike crossed by each other, each focused on their goals. Anchovystrike wormed around his Clanmates, focused on Billowhaze, Wolfgaze, and Ravenweaver.

"Wolfgaze," Anchovystrike called as his friends and brother tried to fight off their giggles. "Can you join me for a bit? I need your help with something."

"What do you have to do that can't wait until after our celebration?" Ravenweaver asked, coughing to clear her laughter.

"Just…" Anchovystrike gulped, glancing at Billowhaze. "Call it a favor for a friend."

"You know I'd be happy to help," Wolfgaze said, getting to her paws. "Enjoy the rest of the meal for me, Billowhaze!"

"With pleasure," Billowhaze hummed, taking a huge bite out of the salted squirrel. Wolfgaze tucked her head and followed Anchovystrike.

"So you know," Anchovystrike chuckled, "we're going to talk about your interest in my brother later." Wolfgaze groaned softly, batting at her own red ears. "Right now though, I'm more interested in my sister. Can you go grab your dad and join me? I think Mosspounce could help a lot."

"Is something wrong with Yarrowclaw?" Wolfgaze asked, romantic embarassment fading.

"Just get your dad," Anchovystrike asked. Wolfgaze nodded and surged into the partying cats, calling for Mosspounce. Anchovystrike, meanwhile, headed for Sandhollow. The cream-tinted tom splashed through the water with Slushtrail and Tallowheart, the three of them squealing like kits. If Currentsmoke hadn't sounded so serious, Anchovystrike would have joined them in their fun.

"Sandhollow," Anchovystrike called. Sandhollow paused n his frolicking, just as Tallowheart's tail sent a wave of salt water into his face. Slushtrail and Tallowheart laughed as Sandhollow rubbed his eyes, trying to get the salt out.

"You two are so ridiculous," Sandhollow chuckled, stumbling out of the water. He shook out his pelt, spraying Anchovystrike. His fur stuck out like thorns. "Hi, Anchovystrike."

"Sandhollow, you've grown close to my sister since you graduated, haven't you?" Anchovystrike asked. "I've seen you spend time with her." Sandhollow's face darkened.

"Something's happened to her, hasn't it?" Sandhollow said.

"I don't know," Anchovystrike admitted as Slushtrail and Tallowheart waded onto the beach, the fun of the moment dead. "I want to make sure nothing does. We need to find her. Can you come with me?"

"Of course," Sandhollow huffed, giving himself a few quick licks to smooth his pelt.

"I should come too," Slushtrail said, sliding up to her fellow mediator.

"I think our little patrol is getting crowded, Slushtrail," Anchovystrike chuckled awkwardly.

"I can handle it, Slush," Sandhollow promised, side-eyeing Slushtrail.

"Is Yarrowclaw in danger or something?" Tallowheart asked.

"Or something, Tallowheart!" Anchovystrike snapped, making the young historian jump. "We just need to go, alright?" Tallowheart stepped back, nodding quickly and avoiding eye contact. Anchovystrike sighed, taking a deep breath. He would have time to apologize later. "Over here, Sandhollow." Sandhollow was at Anchovystrike's side with just a flick of the latter's tail. Slushtrail and Tallowheart watched on as the two toms jogged over to Weevilsight, Wolfgaze, and Mosspounce.

"What exactly is the problem here?" Mosspounce huffed as Anchovystrike and Sandhollow joined the patrol.

"We don't know all the details," Weevilsight sighed, her focused, glowing gaze resting on each Clanmate. "I think we've all noticed Yarrowclaw has had… a lot of busy days, lately. We're worried it's more than that. Currentsmoke thinks she's in danger, and I'm inclined to believe him."

"I'm not trying to undermine your worry, really," Mosspounce said, awkwardness twitching through his whiskers, "but as the oldest cat here, and I really hate that that's true, I should point out the obvious. Yarrowclaw's an adult. She's allowed to leave the party. Are you sure we need to track her down?"

"Currentsmoke knows cats," Anchovystrike huffed. "He's one of the most caring cats I know. He knows when something's wrong. He saw Yarrowclaw wasn't here and panicked. If he thinks we need to find her, we should find her."

"Wanted to make sure you were serious," Mosspounce assured him. "Now the other question… do we have any idea where she might be?"

"Let's check camp first," Wolfgaze suggested, jogging across the sand. "It might be that simple!" The patrol ran after Wolfgaze, sand sticking to their half-wet paws. They left behind the music and laughter of their Clan and ran toward their shipwreck home.

Carnationspeckle lounged at the entrance of camp, absent-minded in her guard duty, dozing off in the warm, almost blistering sun. She snapped to attention as the patrol hurried up to her, however.

"Are you all alright?" Carnationspeckle asked. "You look so serious. Did something happen?"

"We're alright, Carnationspeckle," Sandhollow promised, panting, "but is Yarrowclaw in camp? Did you see her?"

"She's not in camp," Carnationspeckle said, shaking her head, "but I did see her! She headed south a short time ago. Is she alright?"

"Keep your ears perked for us, would you Carnationspeckle?" Anchovystrike asked, paws carrying him to the shoreline. Weevilsight and Wolfgaze scrambled behind him.

"Anchovystrike, wait!" Carnationspeckle yowled, but Anchovystrike's focus was elsewhere.

Anchovystrike breathed deep as the lips of a heavy wave stretched to meet his paws. The salt stung his nose and blinded him to even the smell of Weevilsight beside him. Anchovystrike's chest tightened. Call it instinct, call it brotherly intuition, call it the power of the All-Seeing for all he cared, Anchovystrike's whole body screamed at him to find Yarrowclaw, right now.

"I smell her!" Wolfgaze cried, tail shooting up. She sniffed the sand, whiskers pooling Yarrowclaw's scent together and into a narrative in Wolfgaze's mind. The patrol gathered around her. The heat molded into Anchovystrike's anxiety, making his fur burn. "Carnationspeckle is right, she went south!"

"That's my kit," Mosspounce cheered, sniffing. "I got the scent too. We'll find her together. This way, you three!" Wolfgaze and Mosspounce ran along the sand and grass, hopping from scent bubble to scent bubble. Anchovystike, Weevilsight, and Sandhollow matched their pace.

Yarrowclaw's trail drifted from the cool shoreline into the speckled hills. There was no banter in this patrol, no breaks. Every cat stayed focused on the task ahead. They pushed through the mental haze of sunhigh and kept moving. They would find her. She hadn't gotten far. They just had to keep going. She'd be fine. She'd be fine.

"Anchovystrike." Sandhollow ran alongside Anchovystrike, who suddenly found his chest too tight and the air barely breaching his lungs. "Breathe. Don't pass out on us." Breathe. Yes, breathe. Anchovystrike forced the air into him like a drowning cat.

They heard Yarrowclaw before they saw her.

"I can hear them! I can hear the horses, Robin, thundering down and down and down the path, down the path to save him! Thundering hooves strike the ground, it's lightning, lightning in the sky, or is that my heart? Is my heart in their hooves? Smashed under their hooves? Robinkit, they're coming! They're coming! Strike me! Hit me! His pain to my pain, my pain to his, StarClan's will be done, but not with this, no no, not with Current! You can't take him, Robinkit! Not yet! And you're never taking me! Never!"

Yarrowclaw paced in the center of the horse-path. Her tail thrashed wildly, as though she was in the middle of a battle. She kicked up dust like a kit playing in the sand. She screeched down the path, good eye shifting in and out of focus. Anchovystrike could not hear any horses.

"Yarrowclaw, get off the horse-path," Mosspounce barked, charging toward the border. Anchovystrike, Weevilsight, Wolfgaze, and

"I'll be fine!" Yarrowclaw shrieked. Anchovystrike never heard such laughter in his sister's voice before. "It's for Current! It's for Current! It's my destiny, it's my purpose! They're almost here! Here, here, I hear them, they're deafening, they're here to hear me, they're here for me!" Yarrowclaw's laughter suffocated Anchovystrike. Yarrowclaw coughed, choking on her escasty. Her laughter dissolved into a death wail, the same frenzied expression stuck on her face. "Stop it! Stop the noise! Trample me already! Break it! Break my jaw! Don't take him! Don't take him!" Yarrowclaw stumbled, jaw smacking into the dry path.

"Freeze her!" Weevilsight wailed with a heartbreak Anchovystrike hadn't heard since that fateful day in the nursery. "Wolfgaze!"

At the same time, Yarrowclaw cried, pushing herself up, "I can't keep waiting! I have to take it from him!" Yarrowclaw wrenched her head back.

Suddenly, the world stood still. Yarrowclaw's guttural cries stopped with the blink of an eye. The wind stirred her dusty fur. Her sightless eye stared at Anchovystrike as the patrol finally reached the horse-path. Wolfgaze, too, was frozen, but her eyes, focused and terrified, stayed stuck on Yarrowclaw.

"Don't break my line of sight," Wolfgaze gulped as Anchovystrike and Sandhollow approached Yarrowclaw's supernaturally frozen form. "We've never moved someone when they're frozen, I don't know if we can."

"Just stop her," Weevilsight begged, hiding her face in her father's shoulder. "I hate this vision. Don't let it happen." Anchovystrike knew better than to pry into Weevilsight's darkest visions. He carefully walked behind Yarrowclaw and tucked himself under her head. With his head right up to Yarrowclaw's pelt, Anchovystrike could truly see Wolfgaze's power in action. There was a faint shimmering line surrounding Yarrowclaw's body. Anchovystrike could only see it if he focused, but the lines rippled like water and pressed against Yarrowclaw.

"We'll unfreeze her and get her off the horse-path," Sandhollow said, jaws close to Yarrowclaw's scruff. "Mosspounce, be ready to help us. I don't think she's going to go quietly." Wolfgaze swallowed hard.

As soon as Wolfgaze blinked, Yarrowclaw came to life. She swung her head down hard, but rather than hitting the hoof-hardened horse-path, her muzzle smacked into Anchovystrike's shoulder.

"No!" Yarrowclaw cried as Sandhollow grabbed her scruff. "No no no! He'll die! I'm the only one, I'm the only one that can save him, I'm the only one! I won't be hurt! I can't be hurt! No!" Sandhollow and Anchovystrike dragged Yarrowclaw off the horse-path. Yarrowclaw swung her claws at Anchovystrike's muzzle. She caught her brother's lip, sending a stream of blood trickling into Anchovystrike's mouth. Anchovystrike hissed and shoved Yarrowclaw onto the grass lining the horse-path. Mosspounce left his terrified daughter's side and stood on Yarrowclaw's shoulders. Anchovystrike stood on her flank.

"Yarrowclaw, can you hear me?" Sandhollow asked softly, crouching at the trapped molly's level. "Shh, you're safe, I promise."

"No, I have to go," Yarrowclaw cried, face as torn as the day she saw Robinkit and Harvest's bodies cooling in the nursery. "There's too much to do, I can't stay here, I have to go."

"There's nothing you need to do except breathe," Sandhollow assured her. "Weevilsight is going to find some herbs to calm your mind. It seems like there's a lot going on in there, am I right?"

"Currentsmoke's going to die unless I transfer his wounds to me," Yarrowclaw wailed. Her pinned claws dug up tufts of grass.

"Yarrowclaw, that kind of ritual doesn't exist," Mosspounce snapped. Yarrowclaw's chest heaved, ragged breaths morphing into sobs. "You have to snap out of it."

"Mosspounce, with all due respect," Sandhollow hissed quietly, suddenly at the caretaker's ear, "stop talking. Let the tom with mediator training use his training, alright?"

"How do we calm her down?" Mosspounce asked. Yarrowclaw kicked at Anchovystrike, but Anchovystrike laid on her hind legs. All Yarrowclaw could do was flex her claws helplessly.

"There's a patch of tall lettuce that loves to sprout near here," Weevilsight stammered. "That should help. I, I'll be right back!" Weevilsight scurried over the hills and through the trees, unable to stop her pelt from bristling.

Wolfgaze silently took over for Anchovystrike as Sandhollow whispered to Yarrowclaw, rubbing on the edges of her delusions. Anchovystrike laid beside Yarrowclaw rather than on top of her. Yet as he rested his head, something glimmered in the top of his vision.

Anchovystrike hadn't seen this strange sight since that moment in Downstar's den, coping with the sudden loss of his mother and brother. Soft streams of light flowed around Yarrowclaw and her captors like the glistening pawsteps of StarClan. Even against the shine of the midday sun, the light couldn't blind Anchovystrike. It pulled the weight out of his chest. Yarrowclaw sobbed deep, her whole body tensing. Then, she relaxed, deflating into her own unknowable misery.

"If that's you, Robinkit," Anchovystrike whispered, just quiet enough for him to hear, "thank you. And I'm sorry."

The ethereal light slithered around Yarrowclaw and dove sharply. It weaved into the back of the brown molly's head like a snake sliding into its hole. As it entered Yarrowclaw's body, the warrior sheathed her claws. Blades of grass stuck up between her toes. Sandhollow groomed Yarrowclaw's cheeks as Yarrowclaw sobbed and muttered a string of nonsense.

Anchovystrike wouldn't claim to understand what was wrong, or what needed to be done. But what he could do was groom his sister's fur and murmur gentle assurances.

(Anchovystrike: 19, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Weevilsight: 19, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)

(Currentsmoke: 19, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Ravenweaver: 19, female, artisan, nervous, den builder, very clever)

(Wolfgaze: 19, female, codekeeper, thoughful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)

(Billowhaze: 19, male, historian, loyal, good kit-sitter)

(Sandhollow: 15, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Slushtrail: 20, female, mediator, wise, clever, talented weaver)

(Tallowheart: 20, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

(Mosspounce: 45, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Carnationspeckle: 86, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Yarrowclaw: 19, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

[Image ID: Anchovystrike says to Sandhollow and Spikecrash "I’ve dealt with a lot for a cat my age. This is nothing in comparison. Yarrowclaw’s still the cocky, rough-as-salt molly I know. She’s still the cat I have fun with. She’s just got a few extra traits now." Yarrowclaw sits in the back. Under her, it reads + PERMANENT CONDITION: DAY-NIGHT CYCLING.]

---

"So Yarrowclaw's crazy now?" Cobaltchaser gulped, settling deeper into her nest.

"Cobaltchaser!" Lightningrunner whined, sneering. "You can't call your Clanmates crazy!"

"That's what she sounds like," Cobaltchaser pointed out. "I'm not insulting her. Some cats are crazy. They can't control it."

"Maybe we don't call anyone crazy," Anchovystrike sighed, cheek on the edge of his nest.

By the time Anchovystrike and his patrol came back to camp with Yarrowclaw, nearly half the Clan had left the celebration at the beach, wondering just what they were up to. Weevilsight's tall lettuce helped soothe Yarrowclaw, so she didn't enter camp yowling and crying, but everyone could tell she was in a fragile state. Paleseed and Spikecrash kept the Clan back until Sandhollow and Weevilsight settled Yarrowclaw in the medicine den. Anchovystrike had Mosspounce and Lemmy to thank afterward; the whole Clan was about to pry Anchovystrike for an explanation, but the moment Mosspounce spoke with his mate, Lemmy pushed everyone away, reminding them the value of a cat's privacy. That didn't mean cats like Cobaltchaser and Lightningrunner didn't try to ask later, as the entire camp relaxed after the party and settled down within the warm summer night.

"He's her brother, mouse-brain," Lightningrunner huffed. "He doesn't have to tell us the whole story. Yarrowclaw's going through a hard enough time without us getting in her business."

"At least one of you gets it," Anchovystrike said, getting up. "I think storytime is over, anyway." Anchovystrike crept through the maze of nests that made up the warrior's den. Most cats were already in their nests, getting ready to sleep. Anchovystrike tried not to look at Yarrowclaw's empty nest. He failed.

Outside the den, only a few cats remained out. Downstar and Oilstripe spoke with Spikecrash by the Shiprock while Billowhaze sat with Currentsmoke and Estherfern outside the medicine den. Wolfgaze and Mosspounce shared tongues outside the warrior's den and perked up when Anchovystrike stepped out.

"How are you feeling?" Wolfgaze asked softly.

"Like my sister just tried to kill herself," Anchovystrike chuckled wetly. Mosspounce set his head against Anchovystrike's shoulder, pouring his sympathy into him. "The nap helped, at least. I'll have to thank Lemmy for giving me some room to breathe."

"If it helps," Wolfgaze sighed, licking Anchovystrike's ear, "I don't think she realized she could have died."

"Is Billowhaze mad I didn't bring him with us?" Anchovystrike asked.

"It's bad enough you had to see that," Mosspounce huffed. "If that was Trumpetspore on the horse-path, I wouldn't have been able to do anything. Billowhaze should be grateful he wasn't there."

"He understood after I talked to him," Wolfgaze said. "Just be with your brothers, Anchovystrike. I can move my nest closer to you tonight, if you want."

"That would help," Anchovystrike sighed, touching noses with Wolfgaze. "I can't thank you enough for your help."

"Yarrowclaw's our friend too," Mosspounce purred, setting his tail on Anchovystrike's back. "We would have helped regardless. Good luck tonight." With that, Mosspounce and Wolfgaze entered the warrior's den, leaving Anchovystrike to face his family head-on.

Currentsmoke spotted Anchovystrike first. He raised his head from his curled position and batted Billowhaze's leg.

"I don't like that I had to hear about Yarrowclaw from someone else, Anchovystrike," Billowhaze huffed. Anchovystrike approached with his head low.

"He sa'ed her," Currentsmoke sighed as Estherfern put her nose in his ear. "Sat's enough."

"All this stress brought Currentsmoke's fever back," Estherfern muttered, shaking her head.

"Oh, so now you're interested in medicine?" Anchovystrike hummed, daring to raise his head.

"I've put my pride aside," Estherfern scoffed. "That's not what you should be focusing on tonight." Billowhaze sighed and cleared space for Anchovystrike to sit between him and Currentsmoke.

"Sandhollow told us that since Yarrowclaw isn't fully of sound mind," Billowhaze sighed, "he's going to keep us informed on Yarrowclaw and what she needs going forward." Anchovystrike nodded softly. He glanced into the medicine den. He could just hear Sandhollow inside, speaking softly with Yarrowclaw. When Sandhollow's blue eyes turned toward him, Anchovystrike quickly looked away. Moments later, Sandhollow stepped outside.

"Spikecrash?" he called softly. Spikecrash turned from her conversation with Downstar and Oilstripe. She bade the leader and deputy farewell and joined her former apprentice beside the three brothers.

"Estherfern," Spikecrash cooed, "we can watch over Currentsmoke if you'd like to nest for the night."

"Here's to a quiet night," Estherfern hummed, nodding to the mediators. She nodded to each of the three toms beside her before she slipped around Sandhollow and into the medicine den. Sandhollow and Spikecrash sat with their backs to the medicine den, as though shielding Anchovystrike and his brothers from what laid within.

"First things first," Sandhollow explained, "Yarrowclaw's safe and resting. She probably won't sleep tonight with her mania, but she'll at least stay in the medicine den. Even if she doesn't plan on staying, Spikecrash has asked for a caretaker to watch her through the night." Spikecrash nodded along with her apprentice's assessment.

"Mania, what is that?" Anchovystrike asked.

"You could consider it the opposite of depression," Spikecrash sighed. "Rather than feeling low, your emotions are elevated. Everything is more vibrant, more stimulating, your joy and rage and panic are stronger than ever before. We believe these periods of activity Yarrowclaw's had over the last few moons have been manic episodes. When a cat goes through these periods of mania, their emotions crash afterward into depression. We call it day-night cycling. Mania is like the day, bright and burning, while the depression afterward is like the night, gloomy and dark."

"Yarrowclaw is depressed too?" Billowhaze moaned.

"It's not the same for everyone," Sandhollow assured him, shifting a paw closer. "From what we've been able to gather about Yarrowclaw's behavior, she may focus more on the 'day' side of this cycling than the 'night' side."

"What should we know?" Anchovystrike asked. "To keep her safe, I mean."

"For now?" Sandhollow sighed. "Just show her support. We can talk through the specifics another time. This is a lot to process. It's been a long day. You should all rest."

"Honestly, Sandhollow?" Anchovystrike chuckled, focusing on the glow of the medicine den. "I’ve dealt with a lot for a cat my age. This is nothing in comparison. Yarrowclaw’s still the cocky, rough-as-salt molly I know. She’s still the cat I have fun with. She’s just got a few extra traits now. Right?"

"Exactly," Spikecrash purred.

"We still want to see her though," Billowhaze said. "You said she's awake."

"She isn't utterly delusional anymore," Sandhollow groaned, ears tilting back, "but she isn't recovered."

"Currentsmoke's sleeping in the medicine den, he'll get to see her," Billowhaze pointed out, his paw almost smacking Currentsmoke. "Just let us in for a little bit."

"It's best not to fight them on this, Sandhollow," Spikecrash cautioned, rubbing her tail along Sandhollow's back. "You three can see her, but be quiet and don't take long. The clerics are trying to sleep, and Wolverineheart has an ear infection they're monitoring." Billowhaze helped Currentsmoke to his paws. Anchovystrike touched noses with the mediators, but his mind was already in the medicine den. He led his brothers into the shadows of the ancient wood.

Potterypool sat guard beside Yarrowclaw as Wolverineheart and the clerics settled down to nest. Although Yarrowclaw's eyes drooped, she stayed alert, scratching at the moss in her nest. Someone groomed the dust and snarls out of her pelt and lined her nest with lavender. Billowhaze escorted Currentsmoke into his nest beside Yarrowclaw. Currentsmoke's paw hooked the edge of Yarrowclaw's nest as he stared at his sister. Anchovystrike loafed in front of Yarrowclaw, with Billowhaze sitting beside him.

"Potterypool won't let me leave," Yarrowclaw muttered, glaring at her guard.

"Do you want me to disobey Sandhollow?" Potterypool sighed, giving her charge nary a side-eye. "I'm not going on trial for letting something happen to you."

"You really scared me, Yarrowclaw," Anchovystrike whispered, paws itching underneath him.

"I was going to cure Currentsmoke… I think," Yarrowclaw sighed. She rubbed her face, groaning, "I don't really remember all of it. There were horses… or maybe that was my heart. I feel like I'm the middle of a battlefield."

"You were trying to break your jaw," Anchovystrike muttered. Some of the day's panic crawled back up his throat. "You were talking to Robinkit."

"I didn't actually see him," Yarrowclaw mumbled, putting her head on the nest's edge. "I was so sure he was there, though. Ugh, I just want to hunt! I feel like I'm on fire. I don't like talking this much, I'm not saying anything. But I can't move, so I have to, I have to keep talking so I don't burn away, everything's going too fast. I feel like I'm dying. I don't think I can die."

"You can die, Yarrowclaw," Billowhaze huffed. "You don't have powers, you're not a cleric, you can't perform any rituals. You're just you."

"I want it to stop," Yarrowclaw gulped. "I want to rest, but I'm on fire. I want to bite my pelt off, get it out, but Potterypool stops me."

"And she should, you know," Anchovystrike said. He scooted closer to Yarrowclaw.

"I do," Yarrowclaw whined. "I do know, somewhere. I'm dying. I want it to stop. I want to fix something, anything. Sandhollow wants me to sleep, and I want to sleep so badly, but I can't. Everyone's dying, and I can't stop it." Yarrowclaw's unsheathed claws hooked around her muzzle. Billowhaze moved them off. Currentsmoke stretched until his paw rested on top of Yarrowclaw's.

"I'll 'e here for yuh," Currentsmoke said, trying to purr. "I'll fight with yuh."

"We all will," Anchovystrike promised. He set his nose on Yarrowclaw's head and prayed to Robinkit, to Harvest, to any StarClan soul who wandered around him, that his sister realized that.

(Cobaltchaser: 14, female, codekeeper, righteous, good cook, prey cleaner)

(Lightningrunner: 14, female, historian, nervous, explorer, helpful insight)

(Anchovystrike: 19, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Wolfgaze: 19, female, codekeeper, thoughful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)

(Mosspounce: 45, male, caretaker, adventurous, talented fire-starter)

(Billowhaze: 19, male, historian, loyal, good kit-sitter)

(Currentsmoke: 19, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Estherfern: 118, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Sandhollow: 15, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Spikecrash: 59, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)

(Potterypool: 19, female, caretaker, sneaky, great singer)

(Yarrowclaw: 19, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

Considering her great teaching skills, Moontide decides to join Thundergale and Shrewpaw as a teacher, further validating Thundergale's ambitious experiment.

[Image ID: Shrewpaw and Thundergale proudly watch Moontide.]

(Moontide: 19, female, teacher, playful, excellent teacher)

(Thundergale: 16, female, teacher, adventurous, good hunter, great speaker)

Honeybuzz and Venturedapple get mistaken by SlugClan as intruders. Honeybuzz gets his ear torn, but Venturedapple has a serious claw wound.

[Image ID: Venturedapple and Honeybuzz hurry away from a ginger and white tom and a lilac and gold tortoiseshell. Under Venturedapple, it says + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL. Under Honeybuzz, it says + CONDITION: TORN EAR.]

---

Honeybuzz didn't know what to think of Venturedapple. Few in the Clan did. He hadn't participated much in Longest Night and mostly kept to himself and Lemmy (who had to vouch for him when Currentsmoke and Yarrowclaw brought him to camp). Why did he want to join RippleClan rather than protect the cats of the human settlement? No one knew. But when the LynxClan cleric, Aspenblotch, asked for a RippleClan cleric's assistance, who volunteered to accompany Honeybuzz? Venturedapple. So what could the pair talk about, as they made their way along the safe corridor from LynxClan to RippleClan?

Venturedapple took the lead. His bulky form left a path for Honeybuzz through the paw-deep snow. He seemed unbothered by the cold that made Honeybuzz want to run back to LynxClan's camp and never leave the fire's warmth. Honeybuzz carried a large leather pouch at his side, leather straps wrapping around his torso (a brilliant invention that came, shockingly, from the southern farm cats who studied their human neighbors and recruited WheatClan artisans, to Rattlepelt's envy). The sun was to their backs, lighting the trail home.

"It must have been easier to go home when you lived with the humans," Honeybuzz eventually said. "I heard they can clear the snow off their trails with giant tools."

"They do," Venturedapple said. StarClan, was his voice deep!

"Did you live in a human den?" Honeybuzz tried asking.

"Once," Venturedapple said. He didn't look back. Honeybuzz sighed softly. He licked his paws warm and studied the beautiful snowy forest around him.

Venturedapple stopped so suddenly that Honeybuzz smacked into his grand, fluffy tail. Honeybuzz collected himself quickly, his side-pouch loosening. Venturedapple stared into SlugClan territory, ears sharp. Honeybuzz followed his gaze. All he saw were snow-dusted trees and old pawprints.

"Back!" Venturedapple yowled, his entire body puffing up violently. Before Honeybuzz could react, two SlugClan warriors appeared out of nowhere. A fuzzy lilac warrior and a ginger and white tom tackled Venturedapple with a battle yowl. Venturedapple spun, claws swinging at his attackers. The lilac warrior dug into Venturedapple's tail. The three were a blur of fur, colors blending into each other. Blood splattered on the snow.

"Get off him!" Honeybuzz yowled. He snatched the ginger and white tom's scruff and pulled him off. The warrior spun at Honeybuzz. His claws caught onto Honeybuzz's ear. The fragile skin tore. Honeybuzz's blood dribbled down his face. He had never seen his own blood before. Something about the salty substance dripping onto the snow made Honeybuzz's stomach climb into his throat.

The SlugClan warrior reared back, ready to strike again. Yet his eyes bounced off the pouch at Honeybuzz's side. The bloodlust in his blue gaze vanished.

"Carvingfur!" he yowled, turning back to the scuffle. "Carvingfur, stop! They're RippleClan!" The lilac warrior, Carvingfur, let go of Venturedapple's leg. Chunks of Venturedapple's long tail fur floated in the breeze and stuck to the snow. His tail oozed red. Venturedapple hissed and kicked Carvingfur away.

"I don't recognize this one," Carvingfur huffed, hackles still rasied.

"Venturedapple recently joined the Clan," Honeybuzz snapped. He hurried to his Clanmate's side, studying the wound. "What are you doing? We were close to the border, we're allowed to travel along it!" Honeybuzz took off his pouch and searched through it. All he had was a tuft of sea moss left over from treating a LynxClan mediator's lack of energy.

"I'm sorry," the ginger tom sighed. "Gorgestar changed our border policy. We're supposed to drive off any intruders."

"We aren't intruders!"Honeybuzz yowled. "I'm a cleric, for StarClan's sake! What's your name?"

"I'm Lighttrail," the ginger tom said, nudging Carvingfur away.

"Well, Lighttrail," Honeybuzz growled, "expect RippleClan to demand medical reimbursement. Can you stand, Venturedapple?"

"Yes," Venturedapple groaned. He hissed as he got to his paws, holding his tail close. Honeybuzz groomed his wounds, but his tongue wouldn't stop the blood flow.

"I'm giving both of your names to Downstar and the codekeepers," Honeybuzz hissed as he helped Venturedapple back along their path. "Attacking a cleric and their escort is unacceptable!" Honeybuzz settled his pouch back onto his side and stormed off, refusing to look back at Lighttrail and Carvingfur.

Venturedapple's tail left a red trail as the pair hurried home. Honeybuzz ran treatment options through his mind. Some of Venturedapple's gashes might need stitches, but the brown and white codekeeper seemed like he could take the pain. Honeybuzz would mix some of his black cherry tea with a dash of SlugClan's honey (how ironic) and skullcap powder, that would reduce the pain and soothe Venturedapple's battle-ready heart. Honeybuzz had a good ointment for winter wounds; balsam fir gum for infection, bluebead lily leaves for fresh wounds, rounded out with red osier bark shavings. He could use some of that ointment for his ear, but most of it would go on Venturedapple's tail before the bandages. His condition wasn't too bad, Honeybuzz could—

"Does your ear hurt?" Venturedapple asked, snapping Honeybuzz back to the present.

"Only a little bit," Honeybuzz promised, licking his paw and pulling it over his bleeding ear. Venturedapple slowed, nodding.

"Thank you for your intervention," he said.

"Thank you!" Honeybuzz stammered. "I didn't see them. I would have been helpless." Venturedapple nodded again. "It seems you'll be spending time in the medicine den with me. Let's make sure to share some meals together."

"That would be nice," Venturedapple purred as the chunks of fur remaining on his tail dripped red.

Maybe Venturedapple wasn't as mysterious as Honeybuzz thought.

(Honeybuzz: 27, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Venturedapple: 67, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

Ravenweaver is named RippleClan’s newest artisan.

[Image ID: Ravenweaver is an adult. Under her, it reads LEVEL UP! RAVENPAW → RAVENWEAVER, PICKY NEST BUILDER → DEN BUILDER, QUICK WITTED → VERY CLEVER.]

(Ravenweaver: 14, female, artisan, den builder, very clever

Brightpaw has to lure away a human and their hunting dog with Trumpetspore and Elmsprout.

[Image ID: Brightpaw follows Trumpetspore and Elmsprout. Under him, it reads + CONDITION: BITE WOUND.]

---

It was the day after Estherfern's trial. Her confession to the Clan following the successful ritual had thrown everyone off balance, to say the least. Yet at the end of it all, Downstar decided that, outside of lost privileges, Foampaw's death was punishment enough. But was it? Brightpaw's mother only started seeing him and his sisters as actual cats after summoning the forces of the Dark Forest to "cure" them. Estherfern loved them all, Brightpaw knew that… but what was he supposed to say?

"You don't need to know what to do," Elmsprout insisted as she and Trumpetspore led Brightpaw on patrol. Snow drifted through the sunhigh haze, because of course Trumpetspore took Brightpaw on a dreaded sunhigh patrol. "The entire Clan is confused right now. Downstar and Oilstripe are busy deciding what to tell the other Clans, both about your mother and about Wolfgaze, Weevilpaw, and Anchovystrike. You're allowed to be just as unsure."

"We should have told the Clans about the three of them when we first found out," Brightpaw huffed. "It's a good defense. They wouldn't want to attack us when they know we can predict their moves and freeze them where they stand."

"It was better for them," Elmsprout sighed. "How would you feel if everyone saw you as some living legend when you were just six moons old? We've given them time to grow up and graduate. Now that the spirits are gone, there's less pressure on them to live up to some mythical ideal."

"I guess that makes sense," Brightpaw sighed. He tried to turn his attention to the patrol, watching for any spirits that could have lingered from the rituals… or something else that came in.

"Even though I would never give up my life here," Elmsprout said, gaze drifting, "I still wish my relationship with my father was better. It's not a perfect comparison, but I think both your mother and my father only ever tried to help us, even if they went about it the wrong way. That doesn't excuse them, but… I think that makes it easier to understand them. And this time, rather than running to join another Clan like I did, you can work through it." She dipped her chin at the end, flaunting her embarrassment the way a lot of adults seemed to when relating to apprentices. Brightpaw had to admit, though; it worked.

"As long as my mom doesn't ask me to 'speak up' or 'take a deep breath' again," Brightpaw scoffed, with only the slightest hint of comtempt. He was allowed a little comtempt. He deserved it.

A loud crack broke through the forest. Distant barking froze Brightpaw where he stood. Trumpetspore instinctually climbed up the nearest tree while Elmsprout shielded Brightpaw.

"What was that?" Brightpaw yowled, trying to breath.

"A thunder-stick," Elmsprout explained, grooming Brightpaw's neck. "The humans shoot fire out of them when hunting. It's alright, Brightpaw. They don't hunt cats. They like to hunt deer in AshClan and SlugClan the most."

"Elmsprout, I don't like how close that was," Trumpetspore called, peering between the barren branches. "They'll scare off the prey. We haven't caught much since the clerics' ritual, we need whatever we can get."

"We can't take down a human," Brightpaw said.

"There are a few things we can do to drive them off their hunt," Elmsprout said, ears angled toward the distant barking. "Let's see if they're on RippleClan territory." Elmsprout jogged toward the hunters, kicking up snow behind her. Brightpaw shook snow off his back and hurried after Elmsprout while Trumpetspore raced along the trees.

The breeze carried the human's scent to Brightpaw. It stun his nose like cinders. The smell of a crazed dog added depth to the scent. One of Brightpaw's earliest memories was of a barn dog gently sniffing his fur while Estherfern watched closely. They could be gentle giants, but no dog would stay calm when a thunder-stick exploded in its master's grip.

The human and their dog lingered within sight of the Great Northern River. The human, dressed in thick brown leathers, carried a long branch in their gangly paws. A muscular white dog with thick jowls and a bobbed tail stared joyfully at its master. It held a mourning dove in its jaws, which it presented to the human with a muffled bark. The human stroked the dog's head and took the dove out of its mouth.

"This is worse than I thought," Trumpetspore whispered, scampering into the underbrush with Elmsprout and Brightpaw. "They're bird hunting. We need those birds!"

"How do we stop them?" Brightpaw asked, crouched into the snow.

"It's dangerous," Elmsprout muttered, "but we may have to drive the dog away from its human. If we rile the beast up and lead it away, when its human finds it again, they may be so cold and angry that they'll give up the hunt and return home."

"Brightpaw, you should climb into the trees and watch us," Trumpetspore said. "Apprentices shouldn't have to fight off dogs."

"He'll be an adult next moon," Elmsprout pointed out. "He can help."

"We've lost two apprentices in three moons," Trumpetspore huffed. There was a weight to her voice Brightpaw had never heard before. "I'm still Brightpaw's mentor. He's staying in the trees." Brightpaw wanted to interject, but his words were stillborn.

When Trumpetspore nodded to the pine beside her, Brightpaw dutifully climbed the trunk. He danced around the needles, fearing the hunter would mistake him for a squirrel and fire lightning from their thunder-stick. The human scanned the forest while their dog scampered around their feet. The human's thunder-stick was almost as long as they were tall, with a sharp needle at the end. The thunder-stick's hollow end followed the human's gaze. Elmsprout and Trumpetspore crept through the snow, stiffening with every crunch. They moved behind the human and their dog, keeping an eye on Brightpaw in the tree.

Elmsprout and Trumpetspore yowled as loud as they could. The dog jumped up, barking with enough force to deafen Brightpaw. The human startled, thunder-stick angled toward Elmsprout and Trumpetspore's hiding spot, but cats were not their prey. They barked at their dog and gently placed the thunder-stick in the snow. The dog lunged toward the cauterwauling cats, spit flying from its loose lips. The human snatched its brown collar and pulled the dog back. The dog choked and whined, but pushed against its master, desperate to find the noisy mollies.

All Brightpaw wanted was to jump to the tree closer to his mentor, just in case. That's what he tried to do, at least. It wasn't a hard jump. He steadied his paws on the hanging branch. His tail twitched rapidly, quickly adjusting his balance. He eyed the shorter pine beside Elmsprout and Trumpetspore. An easy jump. So why then did Brightpaw find himself skidding against the snow-laden branches and tumbling through the pine needles?

Brightpaw landed on all four paws with a sharp yowl, just in front of Elmsprout and Trumpetspore. His body was soaked with half-melted snow. The shock of the fall slammed through his legs and seemed to stop his heart for a moment. Elmsprout and Trumpetspore stopped yowling, but the dog howled behind Brightpaw. The human yowled as Brightpaw turned around. The dog's strength was too much. The human couldn't pull on the dog's collar anymore. The collar slipped from the human's deformed paws. The dog launched itself as Brightpaw, lost in the frenzy of the hunt.

The dog's teeth, still red with bird blood, pierced Brightpaw's shoulder. Its whole mouth fit around Brightpaw's back. It lifted Brightpaw off the ground as Elmsprout and Trumpetspore watched on, as frozen as the ice that dribbled down the trees. Brightpaw shrieked, claws flailing. His back paw snagged the dog's gangly lips, but the dog didn't care. It turned to its master, presenting the newfound catch with stunning naiveity.

A sandy paw came down on the dog's muzzle. The dog spat Brightpaw out onto the human's feet. The human growled at the dog, reaching toward Brightpaw. Even though his body burned against the snow, Brightpaw scrambled for shelter. He ran into Elmsprout and Trumpetspore, who quickly pressed against him, purring. The human howled at their dog, but that was no longer any of the patrol's concern. They raced through the snow, everything else forgotten.

"I'm sorry!" Brightpaw cried as his wild paws crunched against heavy snow. "I'm sorry! I don't know why I did that!"

"You fell, it happens," Elmsprout said, taking the lead. "We've stopped their hunt. The bite isn't too severe, the clerics can clean the wound and bandage your shoulders." That meant more time with Estherfern… was Brightpaw ready for that?

He supposed he had to be.

(Brightpaw: 11, male, warrior apprentice, lonesome, lover of art)

(Elmsprout: 46, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

"Wolfgaze… Wolfgaze… Wolfgaze, Wolfgaze, Wolfgaze!"

"I'm still awake, I promise," Wolfgaze yelped, blinking wildly and shaking the exhaustion from her thick fur. Thank StarClan she didn't fall over. She'd claimed a spot on the Resting Place immediately after her ceremony, providing a great vantage over the camp. Yet the lulling waves behind her and the empty, clouded sky above were the perfect recipe for a long nap. Weevilpaw stood with her front paws on the log, her entire body standing straight with excitement.

"Downstar said I could fetch you," Weevilpaw chirped. "You made it! Your codekeeper's vigil! How did it feel?"

"Long," Wolfgaze yawned. She stumbled off the Resting Place, licking her lips. "Where are the others?" Potterypool, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw had been sitting outside the camp the last time Wolfgaze looked. Now the entrance was barren, all thorns, brambles, and stones.

"They already fell back into camp," Weevilpaw chuckled. "Currentsmoke was so tired, I thought he would fall on his face!"

"I'm ready to see my graduation gift," Wolfgaze sighed as Weevilpaw rubbed against her. The tortoiseshell cleric helped her sister into camp, laughing as Wolfgaze's eyes drifted shut. With the sun peeking over the sea, Wolfgaze expected the Clan to set out for the day's patrols, but to her surprise, she found most of RippleClan gathered in the center of camp. Downstar sat on the Shiprock, gazing down at the activities below her. Potterypool, Currentsmoke, and Yarrowclaw stood at the edge of the crowd, trying to see what caught their kin's attention.

"What's going on?" Wolfgaze asked, morning clarity clearing her thoughts. She and Weevilpaw joined the newly graduated cats, who were all largely ignored by the rest of the Clan.

"The artisans are doing something," Yarrowclaw explained.

"I think it has something to do with that big chunk of wood they brought in last night," Currentsmoke pointed out. "Remember? Elmsprout and the artisans pulled the sled out and came back to camp with a huge piece!"

"It was a slow night, Currentsmoke," Potterypool hummed, gently nudging her friend. "I think she remembers." Wolfgaze did not, in fact, remember, but she pretended she did.

Wolfgaze braced herself and squeezed between Splashtuft and Wildclaw. She weaved around her Clanmates until she broke into the center of the circle. Mitespark, Elmsprout, Rabbitjoy, and Rattlepelt stood around a wooden sculpture. Ravenpaw sat near them, listening carefully as Rattlepelt explained what they were doing. They picked at the wood with their claws, their teeth, and a few specialized tools; sharp stone picks that could be wrapped around the paw with leather straps, perfect for detailed work on pottery and woodwork. Elmsprout was the first to notice Wolfgaze.

"Wolfgaze!" she called, gently stepping back from the sculpture. "You finished your vigil! Congratulations! Your sisters made your nest in the warrior's den. I'm certain you'll like their gift."

"What are you doing, though?" Wolfgaze asked.

"Oh, that's right, no one told you," Elmsprout gasped softly. "Mitespark, let her see!" Mitespark carefully pulled her carving pick from the wood's surface and moved to the side. It was a bust, a cat's face from the tip of their ears to their collarbone. They were a smooth-faced cat with round features, shaped almost like a triangle sitting on its tip.

"We debated whether to carve in her stripes or paint them," Rabbitjoy explained, "but I think we're going to paint them."

"Is this someone I'm supposed to recognize?" Wolfgaze asked.

"We carved it from memory," Mitespark admitted, "but imagine gray fur and deep blue eyes…"

"Weedfoot!" Wolfgaze suddenly gasped. "You carved Weedfoot's face?"

"James and Scaleripple are making paint for her," Rattlepelt explained. "We told James he could rest and enjoy the finished product, but I guess he wanted to lend a paw for once."

"But why carve Weedfoot?" Wolfgaze asked, glancing at the crowd. "Why is everyone so excited?"

"A Clan's leader and deputy carry all of us on their backs," Rabbitjoy said, brushing against the newly named codekeeper. "They affect all of us, and we all grieve them when they pass. It's a part of our history fading away. The whole camp was up last night sharing memories of Weedfoot, and Paleseed came up with this idea. We're thinking of doing the same for future leaders and deputies after they pass."

"We'll find a place to store them where the paint won't decay," Rattlepelt promised.

"It will be lovely," Wolfgaze purred. A yawn slipped through her words, despite her efforts to hold it back.

"It will still be here when you wake up," Mitespark laughed. "Go to sleep!" Wolfgaze bowed her head, her exhaustion flooding back with Mitespark's simple order. She moved back through the crowd, who passed along a few more congratulations.

"Wolfgaze!" Billowhaze stepped out of the swarm just as Wolfgaze breached the horde. His whiskers twitched in casual mirth. "Anchovy and I are planning abig battle-training session with Estherfern's litter this evening. You should join us! With all the Spirits of Shadow out there, those five could practice against that stare of yours."

"I'm not sure," Wolfgaze gulped, her ears suddenly growing hot under Billowhaze's charming stare. "It might be too dangerous to leave camp just for a training session. With what happened to Silverpaw…" Silverpaw should have been sitting vigil with Wolfgaze that night. Wolfgaze shouldn't have had to spend those long moments wondering what happened to her sister, what Spirit of Shadow pulled her under, never to be seen again.

"That's why training will be good for them," Billowhaze insisted. "We can even bring Weevilpaw along if that makes you feel better. The Spirits of Shadow wouldn't match claws with our three star-blessed warriors, would they?" Billowhaze winked and turned back to Weedfoot's bust, trying to gaze upon the former deputy's face. Even through the chaos of recent moons and the overpowering desire to sleep, Wolfgaze still felt her heart flutter at Billowhaze's stare.

It seemed her life as a codekeeper was off to a good start.

(Weevilpaw: 13, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfgaze: 13, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, good speaker)

(Yarrowclaw: 13, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

(Currentsmoke: 13, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Potterypool: 13, female, caretaker, sneaky, great singer)

(Elmsprout: 45, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

(Rabbitjoy: 115, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver)

(Mitespark: 20, female, artisan, charismatic, great mediator)

(Rattlepelt: 61, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Billowhaze: 13, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)

Boughpaw found a forget-me-not flower growing in the frost and decided to keep it.

[Image ID: Boughpaw now wears a forget-me-not flower. Under her, it reads + ACCESSORY: FORGET-ME-NOTS.]

(Boughpaw: 10, female, historian apprentice, righteous, constantly climbing)

While collecting samples of ichor for a banishing ritual with Estherfern, Anchovystrike, and Mosspounce, Foampaw swears she hears Shrewkit crying in the distance. When she and Mosspounce go to investigate, only Mosspounce returns alive with horrified tales of a manykit and a new spirit composed of frost-covered leaves.

[Image ID: Foampaw is a StarClan spirit.]

(Foampaw: 10, female, caretaker apprentice, troublesome, always wandering)

Slushtrail spends time with her family.

[Image ID: Tallowheart, Oilstripe, Slushtrail, Shrewkit, Carnationspeckle, Rattlepelt, and Wildclaw gather together.]

---

Slushtrail knew, as soon as Downstar ordered everyone to stay in camp unless absolutely necessary, Longest Night would truly be a long, long night.

Three torches sat before the main bonfire, separate from the other memorials. A withered dandelion sat in front of the tallest. A silver stone necklace hung from the second. Salt crusted the base of the third, dipped in sea foam. It was a lot like the Longest Night Slushtrail remembered from her kithood. The artisans danced and sang, the historians told stories, the caretakers prepared a late night meal. The fire still roared against the never-ending night, a refusal to bow to the cold and decay. Slushtrail could tell, however, that it hurt some of her Clanmates to keep up the fight. Estherfern ranted to her remaining kits, relaying all she had learned in those last few moons about the Spirits of Shadow and their dangers. Mosspounce laughed a bit too loud at one of Lemmy's comments. Lavendertwist sang just loud enough to hurt Slushtrail's ears. Rattlepelt fought to keep Ravenpaw's attention, trying to demonstrate a special dance. RippleClan was clawing at the edge of a cliff, trying to pull themselves back up, unable to think anything but "it will be okay" when their hearts spoke the opposite.

Honeybuzz brushed his tail against Estherfern's shoulder mid-rant. She paused, and Slushtrail could see Estherfern's breath catch and fog around her. She touched her nose to each of her kits and followed Honeybuzz to the side, where Troutpool and Weevilpaw waited. Slushtrail couldn't hear them, but they sat close and carried torches in their eyes. Best to leave them be for now.

The rest of Slushtrail's family sat in front of the nursery. Tallowheart worked with Oilstripe on an old story; a great war between WheatClan and SlugClan and a friendship that healed their wounds. Carnationspeckle listened closely with Rattlepelt and Wildclaw while Shrewkit hid under Rattlepelt's fox pelt, shivering. With one more look over the rest of the Clan, Slushtrail joined her mothers and siblings.

"How do you like Longest Night, Shrewkit?" Slushtrail asked.

"I don't like the cold," he huffed, pulling his face under the fox pelt. "My mom's probably freezing her flank off tonight."

"I'm sure wherever your birth mother is," Carnationspeckle sighed, lifting the kit's cover away, "she's just happy you're growing up somewhere safe and warm. Can I warm you up?" Shrewkit nodded and crawled closer to his grandmother. Carnationspeckle licked Shrewkit's fur the wrong way, warming his blood.

"So can leaders really give cats whole new names?" Shrewkit asked, turning to Tallowheart and Oilstripe. "Like the warrior in your story?"

"I'm a living example of that!" Wildclaw chirped, gently bunting her son. "Have we told you I used to called Graythroat? Downstar gave me a new name because of how fiercely I defend RippleClan."

"More like because you have a death wish," Oilstripe chuckled. Tallowheart hid a snicker.

"I've outgrown it!" Wildclaw insisted with a laugh.

"Mostly," Rattlepelt hummed, rolling her eyes. Wildclaw batted her mate's muzzle, and Shrewkit laughed.

"Well I never want to lose my name," Shrewkit declared. "My mom named me Shrew, and that's who I'll be, forever. The kit part is extra." When he sat taller, he nearly head-butted Carnationspeckle's jaw into her skull.

"It works well for you," Slushtrail purred.

And for that night, everything was alright.

(Slushtrail: 14, female, mediator, wise, clever, talented weaver)

(Shrewkit: 2, male, kit, bossy, never sits still)

(Carnationspeckle: 80, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Wildclaw: 70, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)

(Oilstripe: 82, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Rattlepelt: 61, female, artisan, thoughtful, leather artist)

(Tallowheart: 14, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)

Troutpool hopes Trumpetspore notices her.

[Image ID: Troutpool stares at Trumpetspore.]

---

Troutpool stared at Trumpetspore from the medicine den as Trumpetspore and Brightpaw showed Shrewkit how to perform a hunter's crouch. There wasn't a lot of room to practice, since almost everyone was in camp, safe under the divine protection Troutpool and her peers summoned. It was the same protective ritual they performed during Harvest Moon. The clerics could only pray it would guard the Clan long enough for them to strike back against the Spirits of Shadow. Yet despite her chronic fear of them, Trumpetspore proved more confident in Troutpool's rituals than the cream cleric was.

"Keep your flank a little lower," Trumpetspore said, nudging Shrewkit's high flank down. "You're doing well." Troutpool didn't care if others laughed at Trumpetspore's nervousness or groaned at her panic. There was a keen-eyed warrior under that blanket of anxiety; a warrior Troutpool wanted to know more. Troutpool's eyes softened as she watched the black warrior move with such ease between Shrewkit and Brightpaw, eager to train despite the danger.

"You're staring." Troutpool startled a bit. Scaleripple stood outside the den, expressionless. He held a paw to his chest. A large thorn jutted out from his pads.

"I was just marveling at how well Shrewkit's adapted to Clan life," Troutpool stammered with a lick of her chest. "Here, that thorn looks awful, I'll help you get it out." That was obviously why Scaleripple was there, why did Troutpool have to say it like that?

Troutpool led Scaleripple into the shadow of the den. She grabbed a few cobwebs from the shelves (no need to waste a bandage on a simple thorn). She held Scaleripple's paw out and gripped the thorn between her teeth.

"You were staring at Trumpetspore," Scaleripple said right as Troutpool ripped the thorn out of his paw. Scaleripple hissed and licked the fresh flowing blood. Troutpool moved his paw back down and placed cobwebs on the small wound.

"Stay here for a while, and keep your paw off the sand," Troutpool said. "I'll take the cobwebs off soon. A wound that size will close quickly." Troutpool licked a strand of cobweb off her paws. Scaleripple stared at her, barely blinking. Did he want to talk about Trumpetspore? Well, if he did, he could just ask. Troutpool had no reason to be embarrassed by it. "You know Trumpetspore well. If I were to ask her on a date—"

"No," Scaleripple said so suddenly that Troutpool once again startled. They both stared at each other, one confused, the other certain in an unknowable, detached way. No? What did Scaleripple mean by 'no'? He wasn't Trumpetspore's mentor. Troutpool didn't need his permission! She must not have been able to hide her thoughts as well as Scaleripple did, for the gold and white warrior continued. "You told Trumpetspore her littermate was an omen. Why would she be your mate?"

"Scaleripple," Troutpool huffed, finding what little confidence she possessed and hardening her voice. "I only reported StarClan's sign. I didn't want to make Tempestshade's life hard. I revealed it at their trial because I didn't want them to be found guilty of murder."

"Instead you made everyone avoid them," Scaleripple said. He glanced at his bandaged paw with a soft huff. He tore off the red-stained cobweb and spat the wad onto the middle of the floor. "So, no. You don't get to ask Trumpetspore on a date. You don't deserve that." Scaleripple licked his paw once more and walked out of the den. It didn't seem to matter that he left Troutpool spinning, a dormant pressure rising in her chest. No, Scaleripple sauntered back into the packed clearing like nothing had happened.

According to him, nothing else should happen.

(Troutpool: 39, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Trumpetspore: 39, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

(Scaleripple: 31, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

RippleClan prepares a ritual to fight back against the Spirit hordes.

[Image ID: Troutpool, Honeybuzz, and Weevilpaw stand in a circle around Estherfern. Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, Oilstripe, and Scaleripple watch from the sides.]

---

In Estherfern's faith, there was her God, who did His best to watch over her home, but there were also the Six Predators. The Wolf, The Fox, The Owl, The Hawk, The Rat, The Cougar. These vengeful, vindictive deities loved to toy with catkind, so Estherfern's home developed a dozen ways to combat their influence. Somewhere in the back of her heart, Estherfern wondered if they were the ones who tormented the souls of the Dark Forest, who gave birth to the Spirits of Shadow. Maybe they were the ones to kill Foampaw. Maybe they were laughing somewhere, saying "Look at Esther. Stepping above her station, making friends with the damned. Shouldn't she have known better? It's so fun to watch her destroy her family."

That night, Estherfern would spit in the faces of the Six Predators, of the Spirits of Shadow, of everything supernatural that roamed her new home, because no one got away with hurting her kits. Not even her.

"Estherfern, we don't have to tell anyone," Honeybuzz whispered as the procession trailed toward the beach. Honeybuzz and Estherfern kept to the back of the group, carrying baskets of supplies. Troutpool walked inside a circle composed of Weevilpaw, Anchovystrike, and Wolfgaze. Oilstripe and Scaleripple kept a sharp eye for strange shadows, ready to fight and protect the untrained clerics.

"What sort of justice would that be?" Estherfern huffed.

"The sort that keeps the peace," Honeybuzz said.

"Peace built on lies is no peace at all," Estherfern sighed. "When this is done… we're telling the Clan. May your ancestors and my God forgive me." Estherfern stared at the clouded sky. If StarClan was as strong as her Clanmates claimed, their presence would not be dulled by simple clouds hiding Silverpelt from view.

As the patrol approached the beach, it began to snow. Flakes danced on Estherfern's nose. Wolfgaze rubbed her fluffy pelt against her sister's thin fur as Weevilpaw shivered. Honeybuzz ran into the thicker circle of cats, quietly begging for extra warmth. Estherfern soaked in the cold. The cold meant she was alive. She was free. It was this freedom she sought to protect ever since she escaped the cat-minded human. Yet in seeing her kits as imprisoned in their bodies, had she not denied them freedom? Whenever she spoke with Wolverinepaw, the long-furred duplicate of Estherfern still stared a bit too hard. Thunderpaw still didn't ask Estherfern to repeat herself if she didn't catch what she said. Brightpaw squirmed in Estherfern's company, and Boughpaw stayed silent, forgotten in her normalcy. The truth would be the only thing that could fix their bonds, even if it destroyed them in the process.

"This is the place," Troutpool finally said. The patrol stood where the river met the ocean, dissolving into branches. Sand melted into mud and clay. A salt pool sat in the sand, the artisan's precious system to separate out the water and harvest the pure white crystals. The sea was nothing more than churning shadow. Estherfern and Honeybuzz set their baskets down.

"StarClan is watching," Oilstripe whispered, head spinning. "There are so many cats. I see Mousesong, and Weedfoot, Silverpaw… Estherfern, Foampaw is here." Estherfern steadied herself. She swallowed the rock in her throat.

"This is for you, Silverpaw!" Wolfgaze called into the dark, still pressed against Weevilpaw.

"They aren't saying anything," Oilstripe said. "I think they're just bearing witness."

"Foampaw, forgive me," Estherfern whispered.

"Oilstripe, Anchovystrike, Wolfgaze, Scaleripple," Honeybuzz said, taking dry mushrooms out of his basket, "you'll patrol around us while we work. Anchovystrike, how do we look?"

"There's ichor everywhere," Anchovystrike groaned, sneering at the sand. "The spirits roam the entire territory."

"It shouldn't be hard to draw them in," Weevilpaw huffed, standing taller. "I'll call out if I predict any of them attacking."

"This will take some time, so stay alert," Honeybuzz said. "Weevilpaw, help me build this side of the circle. Troutpool, Estherfern, take the other half." Estherfern gently grabbed a mouthful of mushrooms, which grew damp in the snow, and started on her side of the circle.

The circle would be far bigger than the one in Estherfern's cursed den. Yes, it was similar to that original circle, composed of the same mushrooms that connected the living world to the Dark Forest. Yet here, the design was not based on those damned traditions, but Estherfern's faith. While the mushrooms formed the curves of the circle, rather than filling the interior with an herbal sludge, Estherfern's basket held a purer replacement; the spirit-rebelling charms from Harvest Moon. In Estherfern's home, the charms would have had the gentle face of God, with tufts of fur representing each of the Six Predators replacing the mushrooms.

"Is this safe?" Scaleripple asked. He sat in the branches of a chokecherry, carefully watching the shore.

"We're summoning Spirits of Shadow and sending them back to the Dark Forest," Weevilpaw scoffed as she set down a few more charms. "There's a lot of risk involved here. But it's what we have to do if we have any hope to get rid of them all."

"I don't mean the spirits," Scaleripple said softly. "These gods that Estherfern fears… are they real?"

"Of course they are," Estherfern snapped, almost knocking a mushroom out of its place. "They may not dwell over your lands, but they dwell over mine."

"What if we summon both the spirits…" Scaleripple said, "and your Predators?" Estherfern's paw clenched over a charm. Was the white-speckled warrior right? Estherfern knew so many tales of the Six Predators and the way they destroyed lives. They did not need to feed, they did not have that excuse for their mayhem. It was fun for them. They spread their domains with no care for each other or any living creature. Was Estherfern repeating her earlier mistakes? Was she, in her effort to fix one problem, inviting something far worse?

"Esther," Honeybuzz said. He met Estherfern's eyes from the other side of the circle. He set the last mushroom in its place. "It's our best option. There are too many." Estherfern nodded. She settled the last of her charms in the circle and turned to Troutpool. The head cleric nodded in return.

"Everyone, stay back, and stay quiet," Troutpool called as Estherfern stepped into the circle. "Honeybuzz, Weevilpaw, are you ready?"

"I'm not a very good singer," Weevilpaw chuckled. She rubbed snow out of her eyes and settled at the edge of the circle.

"You don't have to be," Estherfern said. "Just say the names clearly."

"I've never heard names like these," Troutpool muttered, tucking her tail over her paws.

"You wouldn't have," Estherfern said with a flick of an ear.

Weevilpaw, Honeybuzz, and Troutpool sat equal distance from one another, poised outside the circle. Scaleripple jumped out of the tree and joined Oilstripe. Wolfgaze and Anchovystrike lingered near Weevilpaw. Snow dusted the mushrooms and charms.

"The ichor isn't happy, I can already tell," Anchovystrike muttered. Wolfgaze put her tail to his muzzle.

"Predators of the Great Glowing Lands," Estherfern yowled into the snowy night. "We bind you to this place with your true names!" The four clerics closed their eyes. The song came naturally to Estherfern, embedded into her very being. It wasn't hard to teach it to her compatriots.

Luponthoth

Vulpo Thun

Strigart

But-oro

Rapendazera

Punai'kema

The gentle voices of the clerics rose through the snow in a soft, yet tense melody, like bird song. Estherfern dropped out of the song and opened her eyes. Oilstripe and Anchovystrike's hackles rose, their heads bouncing to sights only they could see.

As Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw carried on the song, Estherfern yowled, "We know of your appetites! We know of your boredom! This land is filled with wicked spirits! We have formed their path to safety, and they'll think they can escape. Have fun!"

The cleric's song cut off as a violent gush of wind battered their voices, flinging snow into their eyes. Wolfgaze yowled, bracing herself against Anchovystrike. The leaves that decorated Oilstripe's pelt flew off. Estherfern's heart raced as the snow bit her nose. Yet a few moments later, the wind receded. Estherfern breathed deep. Scaleripple shook out his pelt while Honeybuzz shivered. The humming ocean made Estherfern's ears ring.

"Stay where you are," Estherfern warned her companions. Her fur spiked when a sudden realization washed over her. "Anchovystrike, close your eyes."

"Why?" Anchovystrike asked.

"Foxdung!" Weevilpaw suddenly cried, jumping with her back arched. "They're… from the forest! Watch out!"

"Anchovystrike," Estherfern yowled as something tumbled through the trees, "you see the unseen influence of the supernatural. If you see the Predators as they really are, you will go mad! Now close your eyes!" Anchovystrike obeyed just in time.

Terrified howls echoed through the forest. Black sludge dripped from the grass onto the sand. It tumbled faster and faster like a newly formed river, racing toward the circle. Oilstripe and Scaleripple scrambled back as the ichor slammed into the circle. It launched at Estherfern with a steaming, bubbling sound. Estherfern held her ground. The ichor plunged into the sand around her like a fox leaping into snow. It stained the sand black and burrowed deep, deep, deep.

Then the monsters came. They howled and shrieked and cauterwauled, running through the trees as fast as they could. There were darkhounds, thundering along with massive paws and bloody jaws, yipping like pups. There was forsaken prey, decayed and rotten yet moving and squealing just as they did in their final moments. Leatherwaste flopped and flew about, and something new, something without a proper name, some storm-spun bundle of dull brown leaves and glistening frost, slithered toward the circle.

"Stay down!" Weevilpaw yowled, belly dropping to the sand. All except Estherfern mimicked the cleric apprentice. The Spirits of Shadow raced alongside the trail of ichor and into the circle. They dug and clawed at the sand, following their lifeblood back into the depths. But they were the lucky ones.

Estherfern could not see them, but she could see their power unfold. Unseen talons snatched spirits by their backs and flung them into the sky. Eager, invisible jaws snapped and bit into the sticky flesh of the spirits. Something dragged unlucky spirits into the shadows, screaming. They sank into the earth before they reached the circle. They dissolved into steaming piles of ichor with torturous wails.

The world went white. The loudest, strongest clap of thunder Estherfern had ever heard reverberated through her skeleton and stayed singing in her ears. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear. Her skin buzzed. In a moment of clarity tucked within the chaos, Estherfern wondered if this is what her kits felt. A path without sight, without sound, heart pushing out of your chest, is a blessing compared to the fate that awaits the rot.

It took some time for Estherfern's vision to clear. She and her Clanmates were still standing, unharmed. The ichor and spirits were gone. There was no sign they had been there at all, save for a few mushrooms missing from the circle. The other cats groaned, rubbing their ears and eyes. They were alive. The spirits had left RippleClan.

Something drew Estherfern's gaze up. Clear shapes formed within the clouds, backed by a pale glow. Each cloud looked perfectly like its subject; a wolf, a fox, an owl, a hawk, a rat, and a cougar. Where their eyes would have been were balls of lightning, sparking and dancing, glaring down at the Clans in hunger.

The creatures of the glowing sky do not rule this land, but visitors cannot be denied. The stars shall extend their power, and the beasts shall fill their bellies. So it has been for you, so it shall be for all.

"Foampaw?" Estherfern gulped, barely capable of hearing herself.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Anchovystrike gulped. He still had his paws over his face.

"They're gone!" Weevilpaw cried. She ran into the circle and plowed into Estherfern. The old molly looked back to the clouds, but they were now a simple sheet of gray against black. Honeybuzz and Troutpool joined them, pressing against Estherfern.

"Is StarClan still watching over us?" Wolfgaze asked, hopping into the circle.

"They left when the ritual began," Oilstripe stammered, staring across the river, "but they've returned. They're watching from afar. I can't tell what they're thinking."

"They're on our side," Honeybuzz promised, waving the others into the circle. "I petitioned them myself at the last half-moon. We wouldn't have done this if StarClan disapproved."

"They may not have disapproved," Estherfern muttered, "but that does not mean they are proud."

"I think they are!" Troutpool chirped. "It was scary, but we've banished the spirits. We can walk our lands freely again. We wouldn't have saved the Clan without you, Estherfern." Troutpool nuzzled Estherfern, but the old molly still stared at the clouds.

"I don't understand you, StarClan," she whispered, not caring whether the cats pressed into her overheard. "You ask my God to send me here, you stand by while I summon your enemies, you allow me to draw the gaze of something far worse on your descendants. Why?" The stars shall extend their power… the voice in Estherfern's head had been as clear as when Foampaw last stood by Estherfern's side. Was it somehow better for the Clans to attract the attention of the Six Predators? Was it an earnest decision, made for the betterment of the five Clans? Did StarClan desire more power, more control, more souls?

Estherfern sighed. She would find no answers that night. She would be the one providing answers soon enough.

(Estherfern: 112, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Honeybuzz: 26, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Troutpool: 39, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sense)

(Oilstripe: 82, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Wolfgaze: 13, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, good speaker)

(Anchovystrike: 13, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)

(Weevilpaw: 13, female, cleric apprentice, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Scaleripple: 31, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

Asterblaze and Elmsprout reminisce about their old Clans when a WheatClan apprentice stumbles into the territory. They help him find his way home.

[Image ID: Elmsprout and Asterblaze speak with a black spotted apprentice. Asterblaze says, "We'll get you home, Fluffpaw." Under him, it reads LEVEL UP! CONSTANTLY FIDDLING WITH TOOLS → INVENTOR AND INNOVATOR.]

(Asterblaze: 43, male, caretaker, thoughtful, inventor and innovator)

(Elmsprout: 63, female, caretaker, charismatic, trusted advisor)

Icepaw gets apprenticed to Shrewflame and Pearpaw trains under Whiteflower. Puddlewhisper goes to inform Nimblestep of her kits’ apprenticeship and decision.

[Image ID: Puddlewhisper watches from afar as Shrewflame and Whiteflower guide Icepaw and Pearpaw, now in the same apprentice sprites, out of camp. Under Puddlewhisper, it says LEVEL UP! THOUGHTFUL → RIGHTEOUS, + CONDITION: MANGLED TAIL. Under Icepaw, it says LEVEL UP! ICEKIT → ICEPAW, UNRULY → FIERCE, + NEW SKILL: NEVER SITS STILL. Under Pearpaw, it says LEVEL UP! PEARKIT → PEARPAW, QUIET → RIGHTEOUS, + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF STORIES.]

---

Lettucestar and Oilstar both agreed at the Gathering that they would each apprentice Nimblestep's kits three days following the Gathering. At that time, a RippleClan patrol would meet SlugClan at the border, either with or without Icekit and Pearkit. Their absence would mark their decision. The kits had each emphatically told Puddlewhisper that they would stay in RippleClan, but as their apprenticeship drew closer and closer, Puddlewhisper couldn't help but wonder; would they change their minds?

As dawn approached, heralding the litter's apprenticeship, Puddlewhisper was the first in the nursery to wake up. All the kits were big enough that they needed their own nests, so Puddlewhisper found her side absent of warm faces. Icekit and Pearkit still had their nests close to Puddlewhisper, however. Icekit laid on his back, twitching in the depths of a dream while Pearkit laid in a peaceful lump, quietly dozing. Midnightkit and Valleykit had crawled into one another's nests over the course of the night, leaving Rattlepelt buried under her fox pelt alone. Stormjump, plump with her pregnancy, was dead to the world while Dovekit blocked Puddlewhisper's path out of the den. He had somehow gotten out of his nest and decided to sleep stretched out across the entrance like leather flooring. Puddlewhisper rolled her eyes. The sooner that odd lump of fur was in the apprentice's den, the better.

Puddlewhisper crept around Icekit and Pearkit. She nimbly stepped over Dovekit and into camp. It was still dark out, meaning that dawn patrols had yet to set out and no one had begun their day. The camp was quiet, save for the hum of the late night birds and the shifting presence of one of the caretakers outside. The waning gibbous moon hovered behind the shipwreck, turning the landmark into a dark shadow painted against Silverpelt.

To Puddlewhisper's surprise, she was not the first in camp to stir early. Paleseed hovered outside the apprentice's den, fiddling with moss. Paleseed spotted Puddlewhisper and paused with moss sticking between her claws.

"I'm just deconstructing Frostdancer's old nest," Paleseed whispered as Puddlewhisper approached. "We keep forgetting it's in here. Icekit and Pearkit can use some of this moss." Puddlewhisper nodded and sat next to her sister. A tickle crawled up her back despite the warm summer night. She stared into the empty apprentice's den and thought back to the days when all of her littermates crowded inside, eagerly sharing tales of their training deep into the night. Ripplefern's memory was a haze in the back of the den. Would she be there as Icekit and Pearkit decided on their futures?

"Puddle?" Paleseed purred, drawing her sister's eye. "Icekit and Pearkit already said they want to stay here. Why do you look so tense? Did they change their minds?"

"I don't think so," Puddlewhisper gulped. "Still… if I knew I had kin in another Clan, I would want to meet them."

"Whatever happens," Paleseed promised, grooming Puddlewhisper's neck, "you've been a good mother." Puddlewhisper licked Paleseed's ear. She bunted Paleseed's shoulder and, for a moment, pretended Nimblestep didn't exist, that she had been born a molly, that Icekit and Pearkit were forever, always, and unconditionally hers.

The pair sat in the well-trodden sand, each grooming the other as light leaked over the horizon. The Clan slowly stirred around them. Whiteflower and Shrewflame ran for the artisan's den as soon as they stirred. They nearly knocked over Downstar's almost-finished sculpture, ready to be painted and stored beside Weedfoot's image in a rocky off-shoot of the elder's den. Yarrowclaw limped out of the medicine den, her deep wound slowly forming into a neat scar. Halibutdusk, Rapidleaf, and Mitespark gathered around the fresh-kill pile, debating how they would handle the sunhigh meal.

When Dovekit charged out of the nursery and hassled Yarrowclaw, Puddlewhisper knew it was time to greet her kits. Paleseed sensed her sister shift beside her and stopped grooming her back.

"Make them look pretty for today," Paleseed hummed as Puddlewhisper headed for the nursery. Puddlewhisper stood a little taller as the den's interior came into view. Sure enough, everyone inside was awake. Midnightkit and Valleykit jogged past Puddlewhisper, leaving Rattlepelt alone to stretch and adjust her fox pelt. Stormjump stayed in her nest, weighed down with no reason to get up and go. Icekit and Pearkit whispered to each other, heads dipped low. Pearkit, however, perked up as Puddlewhisper came in.

"Mom," Pearkit said, jumping around Icekit and stopping at her mother's paws. "Do you know when Oilstar will call for the Clan?"

"I'm sure she won't wait too long," Puddlewhisper promised as Icekit joined his sister. "How do you both feel?"

"My head hurts a bit," Icekit admitted, tail twitching awkwardly, "but I'm ready to have the ceremony."

"And you both still…" Puddlewhisper gulped.

"We're staying, Mom," Pearkit promised. She bunted Puddlewhisper in the chest. "We can get to know our kin at the Gathering." Puddlewhisper purred deeply, all the trapped anxiety in her chest flooding out as she pulled Pearkit close and rapidly groomed her head. Icekit tried to step around the two mollies, but Puddlewhisper stuck out her hind leg and blocked him.

"You need to look nice for the ceremony, too," Puddlewhisper chuckled. Icekit groaned dramatically, but stayed where he was.

It wasn't long before Oilstar yowled from the top of the Shiprock, "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather below the Shiprock for a Clan meeting!" By then dawn had firmly settled itself across RippleClan, the sun forming a gibbous shape against the edge of the ocean. Icekit and Pearkit's fur was groomed to perfection, with not a single curvy hair out of place. Weedfoot had the same standard of perfection for Puddlewhisper's apprentice ceremony, so why should she stray from tradition?

Icekit and Pearkit flanked their mother as they all entered the camp clearing. With the pair at either side, Puddlewhisper preened a little; her kits would never outgrow her. Pearkit was shaping up to be a rather small molly, more round than tall, while Icekit had a fairly average build. Both already looked like little warriors, though. Oilstar stood on the Shiprock, her autumn decor glowing against the sunrise. How strange it was to see her standing in Downstar's spot, overlooking all of RippleClan. And by all, Puddlewhisper meant all of RippleClan; not a single cat had left for patrol yet.

"Stand at the front of the crowd," Puddlewhisper told her kits. She slipped away from Icekit and Pearkit and found an empty spot beside Paleseed, Lavendertwist, and Waspdawn. Icekit and Pearkit stood in front of the Shiprock. RippleClan curved around them like water around a rock. Wildclaw sat at the base of the Shiprock, as was her place as the Clan's new deputy. Another strange sight.

"Apprentice ceremonies are an exciting day in RippleClan," Oilstar began, speaking loud and strong. "This ceremony is especially interesting, because today we don't just ask the young cats before us if they are ready to train. We ask them if they wish to devote themselves to RippleClan." Oilstar stared at Icekit and Pearkit as she spoke her next words. "Icekit, Pearkit, you both joined RippleClan under tense circumstances. We didn't expect your birth mother to return, especially not as a SlugClan warrior. I can't continue this ceremony without apologizing to you both. RippleClan killed your father, Achilles, and drove your mother to flee and leave you behind. We have tried to earn your forgiveness, but we cannot keep you here if your heart calls for you to join your mother and sister in SlugClan."

"We want to stay here, Oilstar," Icekit yowled, nearly interuppting Oilstar. "I don't care how I ended up here. This is my home." A few cats cheered at Icekit's proud declaration, Lavendertwist among them. Waspdawn touched his nose to Puddlewhisper's pelt, pressing congratulations through her skin.

"Pearkit, you share this perspective?" Oilstar asked.

"Yes," Pearkit said. Her voice collapsed under her with another, louder cheer from RippleClan.

"Save the cheers for later!" Oilstar laughed as Icekit and Pearkit squirmed under the attention. "We have a ceremony to conduct! Usually I learn what path a kit's paws call them down before we gather, but there were other matters to settle. Icekit, Pearkit, what do you want to train as?"

"I want to be a teacher!" Icekit declared just as Pearkit tried to talk. "It's such a new role. I want the other Clans to have teachers too!"

"I want to know how the world works," Pearkit quickly added. "Can I train as a historian?"

"I have the perfect mentors for both of you," Oilstar purred. "Icekit, Pearkit, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. Icekit, Pearkit, until you earn your full names, you shall be known as Icepaw and Pearpaw." Icepaw and Pearpaw seemed to glow with the power of their new names. "Icepaw, you will be apprenticed under Shrewflame."

"I get an apprentice!" Shrewflame shoved through the crowd, his whole body vibrating and his paws suspiciously stained with orange paint. Wildclaw hid a chuckle as Shrewflame touched his nose to Icepaw's.

"Pearpaw, you will be apprenticed under Whiteflower," Oilstar declared. Whiteflower left the crowd with far more grace than his older brother. He too had orange paint on his white paws.

"I'll do my best," Whiteflower purred as he touched noses with Pearpaw.

"Icepaw! Pearpaw! Icepaw! Pearpaw!" RippleClan cried. Puddlewhisper cheered from the bottom of her lungs.

"Let's tour the territory before the artisans realized we touched their paint supplies," Shrewflame whispered, nudging Icepaw along.

"We'll see you soon, Mom!" Pearpaw cheered as she and Whiteflower hurried after their brothers. They streaked ahead of the pair and managed to get out of camp first. Puddlewhisper waved goodbye as the Clan dissolved into relieved chuckles and grateful purrs. They were gaining two apprentices rather than losing two kits that day.

"Puddlewhisper!" As the Clan set about their duties for the day, Oilstar hopped off the Shiprock and joined Puddlewhisper and her littermates. "I need you to take Venturedapple and Wolfgaze to the border. SlugClan's expecting a patrol."

"Oilstar, Puddlewhisper shouldn't go," Waspdawn huffed, flicking his ear to catch the leader's attention. "She's Icepaw and Pearpaw's mother. SlugClan will be furious with her. Let me lead the patrol."

"Lettucestar wants this handled as much as we do," Oilstar sighed, shaking her head. "I want Puddlewhisper to face SlugClan so we all can have good relations again. They shouldn't see Puddlewhisper as a kit thief, and we shouldn't hide her like one."

"Not to doubt Puddlewhisper," Lavendertwist added, scratching an itch under his collar, "but maybe the three of us can at least come with? I don't really trust SlugClan to handle this well."

"They might behave better with a mediator around, too," Paleseed pointed out.

"If you're all so nervous about it," Oilstar said, "you can go with. Just don't make this seem like a war patrol, please? We've had enough injuries from the other Clans lately."

With a few quick stretches and a call to Venturedapple and Wolfgaze, Puddlewhisper's patrol was off for the border. As they left camp, Puddlewhisper spotted her kits and their mentors lingering along the southern coast. They splashed in the shallow salt water, laughing like kits. Puddlewhisper's heart warmed. Perhaps young mentors would make Icepaw and Pearpaw's lives feel a bit more normal. They deserved normalcy.

"They fell in a heap to claw the mud," Lavendertwist sang as the patrol pressed through the bright green forest, "that dyed their muzzles and pelts in rud, tunnelled until the ground bore blood, with all the blowflies swarming."

"Are you really singing 'Quiet Jaypaw' on a day like this?" Waspdawn sighed, unable to hide a hint of mild amusement despite how he shook his head.

"'Quiet Jaypaw'?" Venturedapple muttered from the back of the patrol.

"A creepy song about a roguehearted apprentice," Puddlewhisper hummed.

"Silverpaw used to love that song!" Wolfgaze laughed, jogging up to Lavendertwist's side.

"Ripplefern and I learned it from a SlugClan apprentice when we were young," Lavendertwist chuckled. "It feels like… the right song for the moment. You remember the main part, Wolfgaze?"

"Where, o where is quiet Jaypaw?" Wolfgaze sang, lacking the same skilled voice as Lavendertwist but sharing in the heart of the song. "Quiet Jaypaw can't be saved."

"Where, o where is quiet Jaypaw?" Lavendertwist joined Wolfgaze in the song. "Quiet Jaypaw, quiet grave." Lavendertwist and Wolfgaze laughed as they finished, earning an eyeroll from Venturedapple and a hidden purr from Waspdawn. Puddlewhisper hummed the melody under her breath, yet her gut twinged. Would she want the bearers of bad news approaching a meeting like this in song? Yet as Lavendertwist started the next verse, he glanced at Puddlewhisper, hesitating through the first line. Ah. So that was the reason.

"Poked at the grave 'til it bared its bones," Puddlewhisper hummed along with the two singers, "it bared its bones, it bared its bones, it bared its bones, poked at the grave 'til it bared its bones, the crows call out their warning."

"Finches and warblers, gray catbirds," Paleseed joined in, "With twisted beaks and eyes all blurred, feathers as red as a fox's fur—"

"Savage and painted and warring," Waspdawn muttered. Lavendertwist, Wolgaze, and Paleseed cheered at Waspdawn's voice. Puddlewhisper decided she would have to teach her kits that song. The chorus replaced Puddlewhisper's dread as the patrol (sans Venturedapple, who stared bug-eyed and confused) trekked through the brightening forest.

The patrol beat SlugClan to the border where RippleClan, WheatClan, and AshClan met, but only by a little. Puddlewhisper barely had time to find a sundappled rock to rest upon before shapes slipped through the trees. Lighttrail was at the front, with one of SlugClan's mediators at his side. But the molly everyone expected and dreaded to see plunged past them, blue eyes sparkling.

"Are they here?" Nimblestep gulped, skidding to a stop at the edge of RippleClan territory. She scanned the large patrol, but her ears dipped lower and lower as she saw no small bodies in the crowd.

"Icepaw and Pearpaw," Waspdawn sighed, clearing his throat, "have decided to stay in RippleClan." Nimblestep contnued to search the patrol, but her face fell further and further.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Lighttrail muttered.

"They are still looking forward to meeting you, Nimblestep," Paleseed quickly interjected, trying to catch Nimblestep's fluttering attention. "They can explain their perspectives at the Gathering."

"What do I tell Quickpaw?" Nimblestep gulped. Her wide eyes focused on Puddlewhisper, who sat calmly in the center of the RippleClan patrol. "What did you tell them about me?"

"They know you care," Puddlewhisper said, picking her words carefully. "You still hurt them, though." Puddlewhisper risked moving closer as Nimblestep's breathing tightened. "You left them for dead, and made them fear for their lives with that patrol. I'm sorry, but you'll have to live with that."

"None of this would have happened if RippleClan weren't a group of foxhearts!" Nimblestep hissed. "You caused this! You took my family from me!"

It was simple hopefulness that kept Puddlewhisper so close to Nimblestep as the brown molly's lips curled and her claws glinted in the dappled morning light. But it was the echo of her words that kept Puddlewhisper from running as Nimblestep pounced on her. Her fangs instantly sunk into Puddlewhisper's tail, as though trying to bite straight through.

"Nimblestep, stop!" Lighttrail barked as every cat, SlugClan and RippleClan, converged on the furious mother. As Puddlewhisper tried to save her tail, however, Nimblestep's furious shaking stopped. Her jaw froze around Puddlewhisper's tail, still digging into her skin, blood still blooming around her fangs, but no longer applying active pressure. She wasn't even breathing. As Puddlewhisper suspected, Wolfgaze stood behind her, green eyes burning with star-given power. Puddlewhisper's body went numb as she looked into Wolfgaze's eyes.

"So this is the Rule of Three in action," Lighttrail muttered, backing away from Nimblestep, eyes locked on Wolfgaze. Waspdawn and Lavendertwist pried Nimblestep's frozen mouth off Puddlewhisper's tail. Puddlewhisper scrambled back, her blood burning. Paleseed swooped around her sister and groomed her pulsing wound. Waspdawn and Lavendertwist shoved Nimblestep back over the border. Wolfgaze broke her supernatural connection. Nimblestep's wide jaw snapped shut on empty air. She startled, tumbling back into the SlugClan mediator.

"Go home, now," Waspdawn growled. "The apprentices made their decision. That's the end of it." Waspdawn joined Puddlewhisper as Paleseed helped her to her paws. Puddlewhisper cradled her numb tail to her side.

"You are witches," Nimblestep hissed as Lighttrail pushed her back toward SlugClan. "Achilles was right. RippleClan is full of witches! This is all your fault!" Another strong shove from Lighttrail silenced the grieving mother. The small SlugClan patrol stumbled back to their territory, prizeless.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Lavendertwist muttered, glaring at the retreating cats.

"Let's get Puddlewhisper to the clerics," Venturedapple said, quietly taking the lead back home.

"Don't tell my kits yet," Puddlewhisper hissed through gritted teeth. "Let them enjoy their first day out of camp."

"StarClan knows what sort of wicked thoughts Nimblestep would have taught those kits," Wolfgaze grumbled as the patrol followed Venturedapple. Puddlewhisper focused her energy on the pain in her tail, but her thoughts still spun. Cruel or not, just or not, Nimblestep was right.

RippleClan destroyed her family.

(Puddlewhisper: 62, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Paleseed: 62, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

(Pearpaw: 6, female, historian apprentice, righteous, moss-ball hunter, lover of stories)

(Icepaw: 6, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Oilstar: 100, female, leader, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Shrewflame: 20, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Whiteflower: 13, male, historian, faithful, great kitsitter)

(Waspdawn: 62, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Lavendertwist: 62, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Venturedapple: 84, male, codekeeper, cold, eloquent speaker)

(Wolfgaze: 31, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)

Dovepaw gets to train as a warrior under Wolverineheart. Scaleripple takes all the new apprentices training and discovers he really likes teaching. He asks Thundergale and Shrewflame to help him be a teacher.

[Image ID: Scaleripple guides Pearpaw, Icepaw, and Dovepaw (now in a tall apprentice sprite) through a hunter's crouch. Under Dovepaw, it says LEVEL UP! DOVEKIT → DOVEPAW, IMPULSIVE → OBLIVIOUS. Scaleripple says, "Crouch like this…" Under him, it says LEVEL UP! FORMIDABLE FIGHTER → UNUSUALLY STRONG FIGHTER.]

(Pearpaw: 6, female, historian apprentice, righteous, moss-ball hunter, lover of stories)

(Icepaw: 6, male, teacher apprentice, fierce, oddly observant, never sits still)

(Dovepaw: 6, male, warrior apprentice, oblivious, active imagination)

"I know it stings," Troutpool cooed as she rubbed ointment along Currentsmoke's fracture, "but this will help kill the infection." Currentsmoke whined softly, but did not speak. There wasn't much he could say clearly; ever since Yarrowclaw carried him into camp after the accident, the clerics kept his muzzle wrapped in bandages and soft leather, preventing it from moving. Currentsmoke had to keep his mouth still if he didn't want to live with a crooked jaw the rest of his life.

Troutpool should have been able to prevent the infection. Currentsmoke hardly left the medicine den, had never thought of leaving camp. Troutpool and her denmates groomed the large gash across his face well, they kept track of what treatments they gave him. How did he develop an infection? What did Troutpool do wrong?

Pawsteps trapsed through the sand outside just as Troutpool smeared the last of the infection-kiling ointment. Yellowburst entered the otherwise empty den, carefully carrying a bowl of soup. Steam gently flew off the broth's glistening surface.

"I strained the solid bits out, just like you asked," Yellowburst said, placing the bowl in front of Currentsmoke's nest.

"You're wonderful, Yellowburst," Troutpool purred. She rubbed the remaining ointment on her paws off onto a scrap of leather. "When you're finished with your meal, can you ask my mother which caretakers are free? I have a bundle of bandages and leather that need washed."

"I'll pass it along," Yellowburst promised. "Are you feeling any better, Currentsmoke?"

"Tryn' tuh," Currentsmoke said, teeth locked together.

"I guess that's all we can ask for," Yellowburst chuckled awkwardly. "I'll see if Sandhollow would tell you any stories to pass the time later. Stay strong!" Yellowburst gently touched Currentsmoke's forehead and retreated from the den.

"Let me know when you're ready to eat," Troutpool sighed, placing her ointment back on the den's vast shelves. "I know it hurts, but if I help you open your mouth, we can make sure you don't make things worse." The fur on Troutpool's neck tingled. She paused, tail rising. She recognized that feeling, the sort that had lingered since her first days as a cleric, that eery sign of StarClan at work. She felt it at the ritual to weaken the Spirits of Shadow, she felt it when Oilstripe spoke to ghosts of friends passed, and she felt it every time she visited StarClan's Shrine. This time was different, though. This time, Troutpool heard a voice.

"I'll try to lower your pain, Current," the newcomer said. "Mom and I will get you through this, whatever happens." Troutpool turned slowly. A sparkling figure stood behind Currentsmoke, the spirit's transparent tail dancing over Currentsmoke's flank. He was dark red, with deep blue eyes and a splash of white wrapping around his chest and back. Troutpool recognized him. She would never forget the face of a kit she couldn't save.

"Robinkit?" Troutpool muttered. Robinkit jumped, attention wrenched away from Currentsmoke.

"How do you see me?" Robinkit yelped. "You're not supposed to see me!"

"I'm sorry?" Troutpool gulped, thoughts spinning.

"Saah-ry fah what?" Currentsmoke sighed with a slow, soft shake of his head. "Yah're doehng great."

"Oh, no," Troutpool stammered, shaking out her pelt, "sorry, Currentsmoke, I wasn't talking to you, I… I'll be back soon." Troutpool scurried out of the medicine den, fur burning. The camp was packed for the mid-day meal, basking in the late spring haze. Troutpool kept her eyes down, trying to look as sane as possible.

"You can see me!" Robinkit ran after Troutpool with silent paws. "I'm supposed to be invisible!"

"Don't look at me!" Troutpool hissed under her breath, sparing a quick glance back at her ghostly pursuer. "I'm not trying to disturb you!"

Near the entrance of camp, not far from the apprentice's den, Oilstripe sat alone, sunbathing. Except Troutpool realized her mother wasn't alone. Two ghosts Troutpool did not recognize sat around Oilstripe. One was a brown tabby who spoke animatedly, tail and paws flying about. The other was a light brown kit who laid on their back, watching the other ghost upside-down.

"So I tell Silverpaw, being dead isn't so bad!" the brown tabby chuckled. "you can fly now! And never aging, that's going to feel great!"

"Says the adult ghost," the kit scoffed. Oilstripe chuckled, hiding her humor under her paw.

"Mom," Troutpool called, unable to smooth her pelt. Oilstripe quickly picked up on her daughter's fear scent.

"What's wrong?" Oilstripe asked, hurrying up. "Is it Currentsmoke?"

"No, it's me," Troutpool whispered, trying and failing to ground her thoughts. "Mom, do you, um… please tell me you see Robinkit behind me."

"Hi, Oilstripe," Robinkit sighed. Troutpool closed her eyes and prayed the kit's ghost would go away. This wasn't how clerics communicated with StarClan. It bypassed all the rules Fennelspot taught her, invaded their divine privacy. How could Troutpool respect the traditions of her profession if she saw ghosts?

"Do you see Robinkit?" Oilstripe asked.

"Better question, do you see me?" the brown tabby huffed. Troutpool risked opening one eye. The brown tabby ghost stared at her with giant eyes. They gasped dramatically and cried, "She looked at me, she looked at me!" Troutpool shut her eyes again.

"Troutpool, you're alright," Oilstripe promised. "I see them."

"I'm not supposed to," Troutpool gulped. "I have to respect them. I can't go around the rules."

"Do you think I'm doing something wrong?" Oilstripe scoffed. She gently groomed her daughter's cheek. "Because if you think you're disobeying the code, then I must be. Call the codekeepers, put me on trial." Troutpool risked another look at the brown tabby. Their face was soft, free of judgment or divine wrath.

"I'm Applepelt," the brown tabby said with a friendly twitch of her whiskers. "I'm a friend of your mother's. And I don't think you're disrespecting anyone just by seeing us."

"But how do you see us?" the unknown kit huffed, pacing around Troutpool.

"Twinekit raises a good point," Oilstripe muttered. "If anyone were to inherit my sight, I would have expected Tallowheart or Slushtrail, but Carnationspeckle gave birth to me."

"Does that make you less of a mother?" Applepelt scoffed, slipping beside Troutpool and Oilstripe. Her transparent paw batted Oilstripe's head, but it phased through as though going through air. Oilstripe still flinched, unable to fight back a purr. "If this is something the All-Seeing did, do you think they would care about blood? We aren't talking about pelt patterns."

"It's still important that I respect your work when you visit us," Troutpool gulped, giving Applepelt some room. "I'm afraid I interuppted…" Troutpool looked back to where Robinkit had been, but the dead kit was gone.

"You'll get used to that," Oilstripe promised, nuzzling her daughter's neck. Troutpool sighed, relaxing into Oilstripe.

"Now, if you're finished panicking," Applepelt chuckled, splaying their paws about wildly as they fell on their belly, "I can tell you some of the embarassing things your mother got up to when she was younger."

"You can't embarass me," Oilstripe said, eyes narrowing in a challenge. Applepelt stared at Oilstripe like a victorious hunter.

"Does the phrase 'holy balls' mean anything to you?" Applepelt cooed. Troutpool choked on a laugh.

"You weren't even here for that!" Oilstripe gasped, swatting at Applepelt's ghost. "How do you know about that?"

"StarClan sees all," Applepelt said in a wobbley, dramatic voice. This time, Troutpool set her laughter (and her insecurities) free.

(Troutpool: 44, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight)

(Currentsmoke: 18, male, caretaker, loving, good climber, skilled toolsmith)

(Yellowburst: 14, female, caretaker, adventurous, good mediator)

(Robinkit: 5, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Applepelt: 31, she/they, historian, rebellious, lore keeper)

(Twinekit: 2, female, kit, noisy, quick to help)

(Oilstripe: 87, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

Yarrowclaw stays out all day and brings back one piece of fresh-kill for each main prey species in the territory. Even though Rabbitjoy notes that they may not be able to work through all that prey before it rots, Yarrowclaw insists the hunt was an important ritual to safeguard the Clan.

[Image ID: Rabbitjoy, Halibutdusk, and Elmsprout stare at Yarrowclaw, who yowls "Eat, eat!"]

(Yarrowclaw: 18, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

(Rabbitjoy: 120, female, artisan, charismatic, master weaver

(Halibutdusk: 75, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

The Clan was a hive of chatter when Weedfoot and James returned from their slow walk around the territory. Weedfoot’s pregnancy weighed on her aging bones, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from taking some time to be with her mate. That meant when the pair entered camp once more, a light dusting of snow clinging to their heels, winter’s final push, they had no idea what was going on.

Paleseed, recovered from her bought with whitecough, raced past her mother, her tail weave of red feathers smacking Weedfoot in the face. Spikecrash hurried behind her, ducking between Weedfoot and James. Before Weedfoot could ask them what was the matter, they were gone.

“That’s not like Paleseed,” James muttered. “Do you suppose something’s happened?”

“Our Clan is riled about something,” Weedfoot sighed. Cats sat throughout the camp, eagerly explaining the unknown situation to their kin. A large crowd stood around the nursery. They peered into the nursery with soft gasps and excited whispers. Oilstripe, Lemmy, Clammask, and Harvest herded their kits into one group, keeping them entertained as whatever happened in the nursery unfolded. 

“Mom, we should really get Rattlepelt away from the nursery,” Anchovykit whined. He tried to run past Harvest, but the reddish-brown molly blocked his escape.

“She’s allowed to look,” Harvest huffed. “Why are you so worried about Rattlepelt?”

“Well, um,” Anchovykit gulped, “she, uh…”

“She can get really angry sometimes,” Robinkit said as he paced in front of Clammask and Lemmy, who worked as a team to stop Robinkit and his little patrol of friends from causing mischief. 

“Rattlepelt is having a rough time,” Oilstripe said, taking a break from her story with the well-behaved kits. “None of you need to concern yourself with her. Rattlepelt will be alright.”

“Just sit down!” Lemmy groaned. She jumped in front of Vervainkit before she could squirm around her guards. Weevilkit acted on the gap in their defense before anyone even realized there was a gap. She charged out of the swarm of kits. Clammask swiped at her tail, but the young tortoiseshell acted too quickly for her. She scampered to the dirt place, free from the queens’ imprisonment. Lemmy groaned, but did not chase her daughter.

“Oilstripe, if you’re all out here,” Weedfoot muttered, approaching the chaos, “then what is everyone looking at by the nursery?” Oilstripe’s troubled gaze brightened at the sight of her former mentor.

“It would be better if you went to look for yourself,” Oilstripe chuckled.

“Congratulations,” Slushkit chirped from her spot beside her mother. Weedfoot chuckled, for that was all she could think to do. 

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“And here I thought you were the wit in our relationship,” James chuckled. “Weed, it’s the nursery.” The spark of truth danced in Weedfoot’s mind a moment later. She quickly looked through camp. Paleseed had left, no need to count her. Puddlewhisper spoke to Downstar by the leader’s den. Lavendertwist and Scaleripple were a part of the crowd around the nursery. One kit missing. 

“Waspdawn?” Weedfoot muttered, paws leading her to the nursery. James trotted after her, tail high. As the mates neared the nursery, Scaleripple, who stood near the back, took note of their approach.

“Let my mom in,” Scaleripple said. Though he spoke softly and to no one in particular, the rest of the Clan took notice of Weedfoot’s arrival. They quickly scampered to either side, purring and giggling and staring. Lavendertwist stayed where he was, kneading the sand, dry for the first time in moons.

“Come look!” Lavendertwist cheered in a whisper. Weedfoot’s heart thrashed in her throat as she and her kin entered the nest-covered den.

Leathermask was with Waspdawn inside, constructing a new nest lined with leather. Neither noticed the change to the crowd outside. Waspdawn sat on the edge of Lemmy’s nest, looking down into Weedfoot’s freshly prepared nest. Four little drops of pale honey squirmed in her nest. Weedfoot’s whole face melted at the sight. The four kits couldn’t have been much older than a quarter moon, their fur just beginning to grow out. Each kit was a mixture of gold and white, from the darkest honey to the palest yellow.

“They’re quite cute, Waspdawn,” Leathermask chuckled, turning from his task. He froze when he saw Weedfoot and James staring inside.

“I’ll be good to them,” Waspdawn promised. He dipped a paw into the nest, gently petting the largest of the four kits. The yellow spotted kit mewed loudly and cuddled closer to their father. “I’ve had good mentors in parenthood.”

“I thought Lavendertwist would give us our first grandkits,” James said. Waspdawn’s ears perked up, paw retracting. He turned to the beaming faces of his parents and brothers.

“Wait, you did?” Lavendertwist said. James gently smacked his tail over his son’s face and let it rest there.

“Waspdawn…” Weedfoot whispered. She crept closer to the four kits in her nest. She couldn’t look away.

“Leathermask, could you give us a moment?” James asked.

“A fair request,” Leathermask said awkwardly, ducking his head. He squeezed around Scaleripple, who backed out of the den entirely to give the other warrior room to leave.

“They look just like you,” Weedfoot breathed. She stuck her muzzle into the nest. The darkest colored kit squealed, blind face angling toward the new scent as best she could. The litter was an even split; two toms, two mollies, gold and white splashed equally between them all. The biggest molly looked exactly like Waspdawn had when he first laid nursing at Weedfoot’s belly, a tiny blob named after the apprentice that never got to shine.

“I know you have questions,” Waspdawn sighed, laying beside the nest. “I want to answer them as best I can.”

“The code says you don’t have to,” Scaleripple said, creeping back into the den and examining Leathermask’s newly crafted nest.

“I remember how hurt and confused everyone was when Shadowdrop and Wildclaw brought Tempestshade, Trumpetspore, and Mosspounce to camp,” Waspdawn said. “I don’t want anyone to believe I’m repeating his mistakes.”

“We’re listening, then,” Weedfoot said. She moved closer to her son. Scaleripple sat in the new nest. James and Lavendertwist watched from the nursery’s edge.

“About two months ago, I was by the southern border,” Waspdawn began, “when a loner called me over. Her name was Gwen. She was new to the area and wanted to meet her neighbors. Regardless, we talked for a while. As you might be able to guess, instincts overtook us, and we mated.” Scaleripple draped a paw over his muzzle at the thought, unable to look at his brother. “Soon after, a monster slowed to a stop beside us. Gwen decided to approach them. The humans inside picked her up and took her into the monster before running down the path. I would have thought nothing of it if I didn’t reunite with Gwen half a moon ago.

“Around that time, one of our patrols told Downstar of a confused queen they escorted off the territory. I overheard them. Their description matched that of Gwen. I decided if she had come back after over a moon, she was likely looking for me, so I set off to find her. It didn’t take me long. She was taking shelter with a few of the barn cats in the nearest farm. She had deteriorated since I saw her last. Her fur was poorly kept and she was far too thin for how pregnant she was. She took a while to recognize me. Eventually, I learned the humans she had left with were of the wicked kind. They took her to a small human den with a Clan’s worth of cats trapped inside. They couldn’t leave and had little food.”

“I heard tales of humans like that in my youth,” James sighed, sneering. “Waspdawn, your friend was taken by a human we call cat-minded. They believe themselves to be cats and feel compelled to bring as many cats into their den as possible. Those dens become graves for the unfortunate cats they claim.” Lavendertwist squirmed, shoulder rubbing against his collar. 

“Gwen and another pregnant queen eventually managed to escape,” Waspdawn explained. “I agreed to offer some of my Clan training to further Gwen’s recovery. I’ve spent much of my free hours there, learning from the barn cats just as much as they learned from me. They were able to safely deliver Gwen’s litter a quarter moon ago.” Waspdawn set his chin on the nest with his kits. “When I realized how much they looked like me, I began to see them as mine, not just Gwen’s. The kitting made Gwen’s mind clear, and we were able to discuss what had happened between us. Gwen has no interest in living in the Clans, or any packed colony again. That’s when I offered to claim the litter and raise them here. Gwen decided that it would be better for them to grow up in stability rather than with a wanderer like herself. When they were strong enough to travel, I asked Puddlewhisper and Honeybuzz to assist me in bringing them home.”

“You could have told us,” Weedfoot said. Her paw touched Waspdawn’s.

“I only made the decision to claim them a few days ago,” Waspdawn admitted. He sat up and added, “I made sure I didn’t break the code by helping Gwen. I only provided her with my time and knowledge and took none of the Clan’s resources. I’ll stand trial if I have to and declare my innocence to the entire Clan.”

“You’re not going to trial,” Lavendertwist scoffed. “Really, Waspdawn, everyone knows Rustshade had his second litter with his old WheatClan mate, and no one did a thing about that. Nothing about your story sounds wrong to me.” Lavendertwist made his way around the many nests in the den and bunted heads with his brother.

“Alright, let’s not make that rumor into history,” Weedfoot reminded her brown and white son.

“Paleseed and Spikecrash went to WheatClan to ask for someone to nurse them,” Waspdawn explained. “With no one having milk, I wanted to make sure they ate well. Puddlewhisper is still discussing the situation with Downstar. She… may be annoyed that I didn't tell her about the kits.”

“She will get over it as soon as she sees these cute furballs,” Lavendertwist laughed. He waved his tail over the kits’ tiny noses, drawing their limited attention.

“They’re old enough for names,” Scaleripple noted with a twitch of his ears.

“I let their mother name them,” Waspdawn said. “Her last gift to them.” He carefully stepped into the nest with his kits. He nosed each one, naming them as he went. “Yellowkit… Sandkit… Littlekit… and Stormkit.”

“I like those names!” Lavendertwist cheered. “I might take naming inspiration from you when I have kits of my own!” Lavendertwist’s expression softened as he stared at his nieces and nephews. He hummed softly, thoughts unknowable. Eventually, he puffed up his chest and said, “I’ll be back soon.” 

He marched out of the nursery like a warrior on a mission. He quickly found his target by the warrior’s den. Weedfoot looked outside; Lavendertwist was staring at Elmsprout.

“Elmsprout!” Lavendertwist called, tail hooked overhead. Elmsprout, who had been making the finishing touches on the Clan’s evening meal with Rabbitjoy, looked up quickly. “How would you like to have my kits someday?” Weedfoot groaned, turning her head from the disaster. Scaleripple, in an uncharacteristic show of playfulness, snorted. James shook his head, sighing.

“Why would you phrase it like that?” Elmsprout yowled across camp as the entire Clan stared at her and Lavendertwist. Their heads flicked back and forth as though watching birds flutter through the trees.

“Because I want to have a family with you someday!”

“And you ask me now?”

“Why not?”

“Why yowl at me from the other side of camp?”

“I didn’t want to wait!”

“If you want to be my mate, just ask me that!”

“Okay! Do you want to be my mate?”

“Is this really working?” James muttered, sticking his head out of the den.

“I’ve wanted that for moons,” Elmsprout laughed. She bounded away from the oven and joined Lavendertwist outside the nursery. The Clan cheered as they rubbed pelts, laughing all the while. James joined his son, bunting his shoulder in congratulations.

“Now you’ll say you’re planning to have kits,” Weedfoot purred, looking over at Scaleripple.

“I don’t,” Scaleripple said, literal as ever. “I don’t think Tempestshade and I ever planned to have kits. I just wanted to be their companion.” Weedfoot could think of nothing to say. She turned back to her grandkits. Her first grandkits! StarClan, did that make her feel old. How much of the gray in her pelt was from her age? 

“Sandkit looks more like you than me, I think,” Waspdawn hummed as his kits searched for a warm belly. “Who knows? Maybe one of them will be like you, Scaleripple.” Scaleripple left the nest and joined his kin by the newborns. He stared at the four golden lumps, squirming and settling into deep sleep. Something in his eyes sparkled.

“I would kill for them,” he said. He locked his eyes on Waspdawn with a more focused stare than Weedfoot had ever seen from her youngest son.

“I think we all would,” Weedfoot purred. She nuzzled her grandkits, bathing in the warm joy of their tiny bodies.

(Weedfoot: 118, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(James: 145, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Anchovykit: 4, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Harvest: 57, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Robinkit: 4, male, kit, unruly, avid play-fighter)

(Oilstripe: 73, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Lemmy: 46, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond)

(Weevilkit: 4, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)

(Slushkit: 5, female, kit, polite, quick witted)

(Scaleripple: 22, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Lavendertwist: 35, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Leathermask: 17, male, warrior, nervous, great speaker, good fighter)

(Waspdawn: 35, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)

(Yellowkit: 0, female, kit, noisy)

(Sandkit: 0, male, kit, self-conscious)

(Littlekit: 0, male, kit, skittish)

(Stormkit: 0, female, kit, know-it-all)

(Elmsprout: 36, female, caretaker, charismatic, helpful insight)

While showing Harvest around the territory, helping her find a place in the Clan as she raises her kits, a kittypet asks about joining the Clan with her five kits.

[Image ID: Estherfern, a brown tabby with sunlit eyes, says “It seems your ancestors have an interest in me.” Under her, it says NEW PLAYER: ESTHERFERN, 103, FEMALE, BLOODTHIRSTY, GREAT MEDIATOR, PROPHECY SEEKER, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. Beside her are five kits. The solid lilac molly reads NEW PLAYER: THUNDERKIT, 1, FEMALE, BULLYING, MOSS-BALL HUNTER. The dark brown kit says NEW PLAYER: BOUGHKIT, 1, FEMALE, QUIET, CONSTANTLY CLIMBING. The gold tom reads NEW PLAYER: BRIGHTKIT, 1, MALE, SHY, LOVER OF ART. The ticked kit reads NEW PLAYER: FOAMKIT, 1, FEMALE, UNRULY, ALWAYS WANDERING. The last brown molly reads NEW PLAYER: WOLVERINEKIT, 1, FEMALE, SKITTISH, ALWAYS ASKING QUESTIONS.]

---

When Oilstripe was a WheatClan kit, she spent a lot of time asking the various cats of the Clan whether she would make a good warrior or artisan or whatever role they held. Considering how much she loved hearing their stories, the path of a historian seemed obvious to her now. Yet if that worked for her, perhaps Harvest, who had yet to declare herself in any official role beside a humble queen, needed that same chance to hear what it was like to follow a certain path through the Clans.

Oilstripe, Puddlewhisper, Carnationspeckle, and Halibutdusk sat with Harvest on a hill in the open southern lands, where sunhigh reminded them all of spring’s return as they bathed in its yellow beams. It was the perfect spot to survey the territory. While cold air still nibbled at their pelts and the trees showed no sign yet of newborn buds, the longer days left rich mud and life across the land. Harvest sat with her tail twitching while everyone else lounged about, sinking into the dull, tan grass.

“If you choose to be a warrior, there isn’t much you have to learn,” Halibutdusk explained, stretching out his front legs. “You’ll help out where needed and go on patrols. Your old friend taught you how to fight, so you won’t need extra training.”

“It sounds nice,” Harvest admitted, head tucked down, “but Oakface would brag about the other positions in Clan life. I feel I’d be dishonoring him if I didn’t consider them.”

“If you want to spend more time in the nursery,” Carnationspeckle purred, laying in an awkward looking yet shockingly comfortable heap, “you can become a caretaker. Some caretakers choose to spend all their time in the nursery as permanent helpers. Would that interest you?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Harbest gulped, “I love raising my kits, but I don’t want to be stuck in the nursery forever.”

“If you have an interest in order and justice, you should become a codekeeper,” Puddlewhisper pointed out as she itched her back paw. “We spend a lot of our time assisting Downstar and Weedfoot in organizing the Clan and honoring the code.”

“Don’t forget historians!” Oilstripe chirped, stretched out in an arch along the grass. “There’s a lot to learn, but our stories are important.”

“It’s just as overwhelming as when Oakface described them,” Harvest laughed awkwardly. “It’s so strange to say I’ll only do certain tasks the rest of my life.”

“That’s not what we’re saying, don’t worry,” Carnationspeckle promised. She tapped her paw against Harvest’s. “You can always make a change later on. No one will blame you if you take more time deciding!”

“You might need to join some patrols, though,” Puddlewhisper pointed out. “It’s important to contribute.”

“Of course,” Harvest said. “There’s so much to do now that I’m here. I hope to experience as much as I can.”

“And I hope we can fulfill your dreams,” Carnationspeckle chirped. Puddlewhisper lifted her head, ears turning south. She squinted, pupils narrow in the shiny sunlight.

“Someone just crossed the border,” she said, getting to her paws. Oilstripe, Carnationspeckle, and Halibutdusk followed her lead, claws out. “You can see them in the distance.” The Clan cats quickly followed Puddlewhisper’s gaze.

The intruder was nothing more than a speck in the grass from that distance. Oilstripe couldn’t even smell if they were a tom or a molly. Their dark fur was a shard of dull ocean rock thrown into the middle of the land, smooth from moons upon moons battered by the waves. They wandered deeper into RippleClan as though they were on patrol.

“If this is one of the same barn cats that keep trespassing,” Halibutdusk sighed, “we might have to show force.” 

“Something feels different about them,” Puddlewhisper muttered, eyes narrowing even more. “I can’t explain it.”

“I can,” Oilstripe said. As the intruder drew closer, Oilstripe saw another shape slipping through the grass. His ginger fur and white-wrapped torso were stuck in Oilstripe’s memory. He seemed to lead the newcomer toward the small gathering. Now why was Fennelspot leading a stranger over the border?

Carnationspeckle was the first to trot downhill, silky fur swaying softly. The others followed single file, all eyes on the stranger. The wind carried a molly’s scent to Oilstripe’s nose. The brown molly had bright bicolored eyes, coolly watching the incoming patrol. Fennelspot stopped when the patrol grew close. He looked to Oilstripe, familiar eyes easing any concerns she had of the intruder. With a low nod and a quick blink, Fennelspot vanished, leaving just the brown molly to tackle.

“Excuse us,” Carnationspeckle coughed. The brown molly sat undisturbed, eyes drifting over each cat. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’re trespassing on our Clan’s territory. You’ve crossed our border by the horse path.” The others spread out around Carnationspeckle.

“I’m aware,” the stranger purred. Her tone was light and airy, a whispering wind or tuft of smoke blown from an oven where stew simmered and watered the mouths of passersby. 

“Then you know you’ll be escorted out,” Puddlewhisper huffed. “We don’t allow outsiders to wander into our land as they please.”

“I believe there is supposed to be an exception for me,” the stranger sighed. “My name is Esther, though from what I know, my name will change slightly when I join you. It seems your ancestors have an interest in me.” The patrol shared glances, shifting awkwardly, wondering if any of them had a good answer to Esther’s odd declaration.

“How would you know that?” Harvest asked, back arched slightly.

“I would be happy to tell you,” Esther said, getting up, “but first, would you help me with my kits?”

“Your kits?” Carnstionspeckle gasped, peering about like the kits would suddenly pop out of the grass.

“I’ve left them just by your border,” Esther explained. She flicked her tail the way she came. She sauntered off, but paused when no paw steps followed behind. “I didn’t wander into one of those territorial Clans, have I? The sort to leave a queen and her kits alone?”

“We’ll help,” Oilstripe promised. She gave everyone a cautious, knowing look. That was all Carnationspeckle needed to follow Esther toward the border. Harvest, Halibutdusk, and Puddlewhisper lingered behind while Oilstripe joined her mate. If Fennelspot was leading Esther into RippleClan (whether or not anyone knew he was there), then Esther couldn’t be a danger.

Esther led the patrol to the horse path, quiet of any rolling monsters. Esther was just another patch of mud in the recovering grass, a spot of brown in a sea of tan. Oilstripe could smell the kits before she saw the small dip in the ground some ways beyond the horse path. Esther crawled into the dip and nuzzled the tiny bodies tucked within.

“Hello, my darlings,” Estherfern purred. Five kits mewed with delight at their mother’s return. They were all earth-colored, ranging between brown and pale tan. Almost all of them sported Esther’s sunlit eyes. There was only one tom in the bunch. All five stared wide-eyed at the Clan cats. The tom and the brown tabby hopped over Esther and hid behind her. The dark brown kit stood on Esther to get a better view of them. The two pale mollies, however, scurried out of their makeshift nest and stared down Oilstripe.

“So many kits…” Puddlewhisper muttered as Esther pawed at her wayward daughters, urging them back to her side. 

“Tom cats!” the brown tabby gasped, peeking out from behind Esther. “Are you tom cats? Momma, you brought tom cats!”

“I’m a molly,” Puddlewhisper huffed, tucking into herself. “Halibutdusk isn’t a tom, either. They’re separate from toms and mollies.” Where Puddlewhisper seemed like she’d rather sink through the grass at the comment, Halibutdusk simply nodded, tail sagging.

“You can be something else?” one of the pale colored kits gasped, eyes sparkling. 

“Wolverinekit, don’t ask rude questions,” Esther warned, “and Thunderkit, don’t pester them.” Thunderkit stuck her tongue at her mother. A sharp glare from Esther sent Thunderkit scrambling toward her dark brown sister.

“They have Clan names,” Oilstripe realized. “How do you know how we name our kits?”

“I asked,” Esther purred. She glanced at the thin clouds above. “I’ve named my kits Thunderkit, Boughkit, Brightkit, Foamkit, and Wolverinekit.” Each kit jumped up at the sound of their name. Thunderkit and Foamkit were the pale mollies, one solid, one ticked. Boughkit was the dark brown kit, Brightkit was the golden-brown tom, leaving Wolverinekit as the curious long-furred tabby.

“I need an explanation before I lead you to our camp,” Puddlewhisper huffed, taking the lead. “It’s fine to ask to join our ranks, Harvest here did the same with her kits only a few moons ago.”

“Hello,” Harvest said with an awkward twitch of her tail.

“But claiming you’ve spoken to StarClan?” Puddlewhisper scoffed, unable to stop her ears from going flat. “I just don’t trust it, kits or no kits. So before I feel comfortable helping you, I want to understand what you’re suggesting.”

“Take a deep breath, Puddlewhisper,” Oilstripe said. She touched her tail to Puddlewhisper’s side. “Believe me when I say, there’s at least some truth to what Esther is saying.” Oilstripe turned to Esther and added, “She is right, though. I want to know what led you here.”

“Are you expecting my life’s story?” Esther sighed. Her son crawled under her chin. Esther groomed Brightkit’s head, earning a purr.

“Tell us how you know about StarClan,” Oilstripe said, sitting at the edge of the dip.

“Where I come from,” Esther sighed, “far to the west, prophecy is commonplace, if not more straightforward than what your ancestors love to craft. A prophecy is no more than a message from our God. When my God told me to travel east and find the five Clans, who was I to say no? I am needed here, apparently. I would have been here moons upon moons ago, if not for the human who snatched me in my sleep and threw me into her den. It was not the sort of place one could escape from, all filth and violence and too many cats in too small a space.”

“That…” Puddlewhisper muttered, pacing to the other side of the dip, “sounds familiar.” She studied the five kits, who all watched her like she would become a fearsome bear, ready to strike at any moment. “Esther, do you know a cat named Gwen?”

“She and I found a way out of that cesspool close to a moon ago,” Esther said. “By then, I had fallen pregnant, but I made do. They’re quite cute, after all.” Boughkit slid off Esther’s back with a small squeal, earning Thunderkit’s mockery. “While I rotted away, however, I began to hear more from your ancestors in my dreams. I was thrown off guard by their way of speaking, but I grew to find the meaning in their metaphors. Their prophecies told me how to find you, how to escape, and how to name my kits.” Wolverinekit stared bug-eyed at Puddlewhisper as the gray molly thought through Esther’s story.

“Do you believe her, Oilstripe?” Puddlewhisper asked. Oilstripe loafed at the dip’s edge, carefully staring at Esther.

“Can you describe any of the cats from your dream, Esther?” Oilstripe wondered. 

“Oh, there were a few over the moons,” Esther sighed. “None gave me their name. The most common sight in the last few moons has been… a tailless tortoiseshell, gray and ginger.”

“Parsley?” Carnationspeckle gasped. While Harvest was unphased by the name, everyone else paid a bit more attention to Esther. 

“If StarClan has called you here,” Halibutdusk asked, “then you must have some idea as to why.”

“I can give you their last prophecy to me,” Esther purred as Wolverinekit and Brightkit started nibbling at each other. “But I need to know you’ll escort me to your camp. I need to secure a safe home for my kits.”

“There’s no reason we wouldn’t, right Oilstripe?” Harvest said with a friendly cock of her tail.

“If you have so much experience with prophecies,” Oilstripe said as Foamkit once again left the dip and sniffed around the Clan cats’ legs, “RippleClan could use your expertise as one of our clerics.”

“I want to hear this prophecy, first,” Puddlewhisper huffed. Foamkit pawed at Puddlewhisper’s leg. Puddlewhisper peered down, curious. Foamkit wiggled her flank and launched at Puddlewhisper. She clawed up Puddlewhisper’s leg and stood on Puddlewhisper’s back. Puddlewhisper could only stand stunned for a moment before she suddenly started laughing. “Oh, do you want a horse ride?”

“What’s a—” Foamkit said, but she wasn’t fast enough. Puddlewhisper kicked and bucked like a frantic horse. Foamkit dug her claws in, squealing and laughing the whole way. The other kits wooed and awed at the sight, running toward Puddlewhisper. They chased after her as Foamkit held on for her short life.

“Well, while you’re busy mangling my daughter,” Esther sighed, “I’ll give you the prophecy.” Esther climbed out of the dip and cleared her throat. “Ferns spread spores across fertile soil. There is much to learn from their growth, good and bad.”

“Sounds like your average prophecy,” Oilstripe admitted. “I don’t think Downstar and Weedfoot will have any issues with you joining the Clan as another cleric. I’m sure Honeybuzz and my daughter, Troutpool, would appreciate the extra paws.”

“I know you gave your kits Clan names,” Carnationspeckle pointed out, “but you don’t have to change your name if you don’t want to. There are plenty of cats who keep their old names in RippleClan, like James!”

“Thank you, but I actually decided on a Clan-like name while I was recovering from my kitting,” the strange brown molly said. “I was hoping to be called Estherfern. I believe the name to be appropriate

(Oilstripe: 73, female, historian, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Halibutdusk: 60, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Harvest: 57, female, queen, nervous, good fighter)

(Carnationspeckle: 71, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)

(Puddlewhisper: 35, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, natural intuition, ghost sense)

(Fennelspot: 113, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)

(Estherfern: 103, female, cleric, bloodthirsty, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Wolverinekit: 1, female, kit, skittish, always asking questions)

(Thunderkit: 1, female, kit, bullying, moss-ball hunter)

(Boughkit: 1, female, kit, quiet, constantly climbing)

(Brightkit: 1, male, kit, shy, lover of art)

(Foamkit: 1, female, kit, unruly, always wandering)

Rattlepelt eavesdrops on Wolfkit.

[Image ID: Anchovykit says to Wolfkit, “She scares me, Wolfkit! My mom won’t believe me!” Rattlepelt listens in from the side.]

---

A kit just couldn’t get any privacy in RippleClan, it seemed. 

The first place Anchovykit tried to speak to Wolfkit was between the Shiprock and the medicine den. It was blocked off enough, so cats would have given them a bit of privacy. But new arrival Estherfern was causing a fuss in the medicine den, complaining about the herbs inside (“How can I focus on developing my relationship with your higher powers when you want me to crush leaves and roots all day?”). So that wouldn’t have been a good place to talk.

Anchovykit tried the quarantine den next. No one was there, so no one would interrupt. Except he then remembered just how many cats passed by to make dirt…. Not the right place.

He didn’t even stop to consider the nursery. Clammask and Lemmy were still talking to the visiting WheatClan queen about whether she needed to stick around and nurse Waspdawn’s kits, or if Estherfern could assist in the task. With well over a dozen kits of all ages inside, Anchovykit wouldn’t have been able to think, let alone talk to Wolfkit.

That was when he remembered that Mitepaw was the only apprentice in the Clan, and she had just left to collect wood with Rabbitjoy. The apprentice’s den was completely empty. The perfect place to talk.

“Anchovykit, why do you need to be so secretive?” Wolfkit sighed as Anchovykit led her into the apprentice’s den. The setting sun cast the entire den in deep shadow, better hiding the pair.

“Because this is really important!” Anchovykit huffed. With just the one nest inside, the den felt rather barren. The planks covering the roof seemed hollow in comparison to the secure stone walls of the nursery. Regardless, Anchovykit sat to the side, urging Wolfkit deeper into the darkness.

“So what is it?” Wolfkit asked. Anchovykit held his breath, trying to build up his courage and words.

“Did you talk to Spikecrash last moon about seeing things that weren’t there?” he gulped. Wolfkit pinned her big ears flat.

“How do you know about that?” Wolfkit whined.

“I overheard Spikecrash and Paleseed discuss it while I was making dirt,” Anchovykit admitted. “Wolfkit, I need to know! Do you see things glow, too? Do you see what’s wrong with Rattlepelt?” Anchovykit’s ears were as flat as Wolfkit’s.

“What’s wrong with Rattlepelt?” Wolfkit gulped.

“The ooze!” Anchovykit cried, stamping his paw. “The black stuff! The… oh what did she call it? The ichor! It’s all over her! She scares me, Wolfkit! My mom won’t believe me!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wolfkit whined.

“You know how mad she gets sometimes!” Anchovykit groaned. “Didn’t you see her yell at Mitepaw and Elmsprout yesterday?”

Anchovykit didn’t know what started the fight. He had been with Robinkit, Silverkit, and Vervainkit, learning a hunter’s crouch from Scaleripple. Mitepaw and Elmsprout had been talking about AshClan woodwork, the former showing off some of her pieces to Ravenkit. She had carved a bird’s wing out of a chunk of fallen wood, much to Ravenkit’s awe. It was in the midst of this happy moment that Rattlepelt appeared, giving into her own rage like a fire devouring the last of its fuel and surging upward in defiance. In Anchovykit’s unique eyes, Rattlepelt’s gaze shifted between the dark copper described by others and a burning, hateful yellow, her ichor smearing the sand. Oh how she had raged against Mitepaw and Elmsprout, screaming of traitors and false loyalty. It took both Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn to drag Rattlepelt away from the terrified mollies, the mediators hot on her trail, ready to uncover the truth of the outburst. 

But Anchovykit knew. He’d known for moons.

“There’s something wrong with Rattlepelt, and no one will believe me,” Anchovykit groaned. “It’s more than anger. I think she’s cursed! I thought you saw it too!”

“That’s not what I talked to Spikecrash about,” Wolfkit muttered, staring at her paws. “I see something else.”

“Do you see the future too?” Anchovykit and Wolfkit jumped, backs arched comically high. Weevilkit stood at the den’s entrance, shaking sand out of her pelt.

“It’s not nice to eavesdrop, Weevilkit!” Wolfkit huffed as her sister joined the duo inside.

“I only heard the last little bit,” Weevilkit insisted. “Now tell me what it is you see!”

“No, wait,” Anchovykit said, trying to smooth out the surprise prickling his pelt, “did you say you see the future?”

“Well, I’ve been keeping it a secret,” Weevilkit chuckled with a cocky sway of her flank. “I want to shock the clerics when I become an apprentice. I don’t want them to be jealous of how special I am.”

“Do you get visions from StarClan?” Wolfkit asked.

“Not like the clerics,” Weevilkit purred. “I see things just before they happen. Like when Estherfern arrived today! I saw her enter camp just before she actually entered camp. I’ve been seeing things like this for a while now. I didn’t know what it was at first, but now I know that it’s just what makes me special!”

“Oh, I know the word for that!” Wolfkit gasped. “Premonitions!”

“That’s it!” Weevilkit chirped, bouncing. “Do you have them too?”

“I see something else,” Anchovykit said, a bit more confident than when Weevilkit first interrupted. “I think it’s… influence. I see what StarClan touches, I think. If they like a place or person, it glows. I think I uncurse cats, too! I had a dream where a StarClan cat helped me uncurse Tempestshade so they could go to StarClan.” Wolfkit and Weevilkit looked at Anchovykit like they would look at a great hero of the Clans.

“So we’re both special,” Weevilkit gasped. She shoved Wolfkit and said, “What do you see, what do you see?”

“I don’t know if I actually see anything,” Wolfkit gulped, sitting with a plop, gaze stuck downward. “There was just something weird that happened last moon. I don’t think it’s happened since.”

“Well, try to make it happen again,” Weevilkit insisted. “What was it?”

“Um…” Wolfkit muttered. “I was playing with Yarrowkit, and I ran in front of her and glared at her like this.” Wolfkit lifted her eyes and stared at Anchovykit.

There was no moment between Wolfkit’s stare and what happened next. Anchovykit was on the ground, Weevilkit standing on his shoulder, smacking his head. Wolfkit crouched in on herself, shaking.

“Anchovykit!” Weevilkit yowled. She smacked Anchovykit’s face again. Anchovykit shoved her off.

“What was that?” he snapped.

“You weren’t breathing,” Wolfkit whined, swallowing hard. “You wouldn’t answer us. You weren’t doing anything. It was just like with Yarrowkit.”

“I don’t remember anything,” Anchovykit huffed, shaking out his pelt.

“Wolfkit, stare at me this time!” Weevilkit chirped, bounding away from Anchovykit and sitting in Mitepaw’s nest.

“Okay,” Wolfkit gulped. She turned her fearful gaze to Weevilkit. 

Anchovykit stared, waiting for something to happen. Except nothing did. Anchovykit quickly realized that was the point. Weevilkit did not move a single whisker. She did not blink. She did not breathe. Her eyes seemed hollow, frozen in a memory, a moment that had passed her by but that she could not leave.

“How do you stop it?” Anchovykit gasped. Wolfkit blinked hard. Weevilkit snapped back to life, once again wiggling with anticipation for something that already happened. She realized what she had missed as soon as she looked over at Anchovykit.

“We’re all special!” Weevilkit cheered. She ran to Wolfkit, nuzzling her sister. “We’re all special! I love it! You freeze people, Wolfkit! You’re special!” Wolfkit beamed in her sister’s praise. “Let’s go, let’s go! Let’s celebrate! We’re special!” Weevilkit charged out of the apprentice’s den. Caught up in the moment, Anchovykit and Wolfkit ran after her.

Rattlepelt was sitting directly next to the apprentice’s den. Anchovykit skidded in the sand at the sight of the furious, unnatural yellow eyes that only he could see. The ichor that pooled around Rattlepelt’s legs stained the leather she had been mending. Her claws poked through the leather. Anchovykit’s legs went numb. How much had she heard?

“This way!” Weevilkit snapped, nipping at Anchovykit’s scruff. The excitement and joy that had consumed her a moment before had vanished, replaced with a stiff terror. Weevilkit led Wolfkit toward the dirt-place. Anchovykit ran after them, just as Rattlepelt got to her paws.

Weevilkit skirted around the shipwreck and dove into the empty quarantine den. Anchovykit and Wolfkit scrambled to keep up, panting as their little hearts beat hard.

“I had another pree-me,” Weevilkit gulped.

“Premonition,” Wolfkit said softly.

“Rattlepelt was about to get really, really mad at us,” Weevikit said, shivering. “Is she following us?” Anchovykit glanced outside. The dirt-place was empty. No sign of Rattlepelt.

“There’s something wrong with her,” Anchovykit huffed. “Special cats always use their powers for good in stories, right? I think we need to use ours against Rattlepelt.”

“Maybe we should tell an adult,” Wolfkit suggested, glancing outside. 

“They won’t believe us,” Anchovykit huffed. “Waspdawn’s litter is so small! We have to keep them safe from Rattlepelt.”

“Would she hurt them?” Wolfkit gulped.

“You don’t see her like I do,” Anchovykit huffed, trying once more to be brave. “I think with her curse, she’s capable of anything.”

(Anchovykit: 4, male, kit, charming, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfkit: 4, female, kit, polite, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Weevilkit: 4, female, kit, bullying, curious about StarClan)