The clerics breathe easy for a bit as Leathermask, Waspdawn, and Vasco all leave their care. Still, Troutpool has to explain to Midnightpaw that his eyesight is failing and may worsen over the moons. At least he can somewhat see.
[Image ID: Vasco, Waspdawn, and Leathermask wander off in the background while Troutpool talks to Midnightpaw. Under Vasco and Waspdawn, it says - CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH (X2). Under Leathermask, it says - CONDITION: TORN PELT. In the foreground, Midnightpaw has scars over his left eye, turning it white and blind. Under him, it reads - CONDITION: DAMAGED EYES, + PERMANENT CONDITION: FAILING EYESIGHT, + NEW SKILL: CONFIDENT WITH WORDS.]
(Vasco: 15, female, Witch Hunter, lonesome, great kitsitter)
(Waspdawn: 70, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)
(Leathermask: 52, male, warrior, confident, good fighter, eloquent speaker)
(Troutpool: 65, female, cleric, insecure, ghost sight, good climber)
The frostbite Weevilsight sustained has left its mark on her face, making her feel odd compared to other clerics.
[Image ID: Anchovystrike stands in front of Weevilsight, who has frostbite scars on her face. He growls at Spikecrash, "The scars make my mate look more like herself, not some murderous coward. Morningpaw should know better!" Spikecrash replies tactfully, "Morningpaw meant nothing by the Autumnstar comment." Under Weevilsight, it says - CONDITION: FROSTBITE.]
(Spikecrash: 79, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)
(Anchovystrike: 39, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)
(Weevilsight: 39, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
Darkkick welcomes Rapidleaf to the elder’s den. Meanwhile, Weevilsight and Anchovystrike decide to have a litter together.
[Image ID: Rapidleaf talks to Darkkick as Weevilsight and Anchovystrike return to camp. Darkkick whispers, "I think I know where those two went…" Under Weevilsight, it says + CONDITION: PREGNANT.]
(Darkkick: 152, trans female, elder, lonesome, talented swimmer, understands nature)
(Anchovystrike: 39, male, warrior, playful, deep StarClan bond)
(Weevilsight: 39, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
Berrykit, Sunkit, and Skykit pester Gingerspring and the other clerics.
[Image ID: Berrykit, Sunkit, and Skykit all have their full kit sprites, and they all face Gingerspring, who yowls "Estherfern! Remind me not to have kits!" Estherfern, walking in the background, yowls, "I have no sympathy!" Under Berrykit, it says + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF STORIES. Under Sunkit, it says + NEW SKILL: QUICK WITTED. Under Skykit, it says + NEW SKILL: SPLASHES IN PUDDLES.]
(Berrykit: 1, male, kit, bullying, lover of stories)
(Sunkit: 1, male, kit, fearless, quick witted)
(Skykit: 1, female, kit, know-it-all, splashes in puddles)
(Gingerspring: 20, male, cleric, charismatic, human expert, good hunter)
(Estherfern: 138, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
Thundergale is a good aunt and spends time with her sister’s kits.
[Image ID: Lightkit, Snakekit, and Fuzzykit listen to their aunt Thundergale while Goldenkit stands behind Thundergale. The kits all have their full kit sprites. Snakekit cries, "Thundergale, Goldenkit is copying you!" even though Thundergale can't hear her. Under Lightkit, it says + NEW SKILL: LOVER OF ART. Under Snakekit, it says + NEW SKILL: QUICK TO MAKE PEACE. Under Fuzzykit, it says + NEW SKILL: STARES AT FIRE. Under Goldenkit, it says + NEW SKILL: CHEWS ON STICKS.]
(Lightkit: 1, female, kit, daydreamer, lover of art)
(Snakekit: 1, female, kit, polite, quick to make peace)
(Fuzzykit: 1, male, kit, unruly, stares at fire)
(Thundergale: 36, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)
(Goldenkit: 1, male, kit, bullying, chews on sticks)
Beepaw practices battle moves with Puddlewhisper, Morningpaw, and Icepounce, but he smacks his head against debris washed on-shore and knocks himself out.
[Image ID: Morningpaw, Puddlewhisper, and Icepounce stare at a pink silhouette lying on its side in the distance, blood pooling underneath. The silhouette is really Beepaw, with + CONDITION: HEAD DAMAGE written underneath. Puddlewhisper yowls, "Careful!" in vain.]
(Morningpaw: 8, male, teacher apprentice, confident, eye for details)
(Puddlewhisper: 70, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)
(Icepounce: 14, male, teacher, adventurous, fast as the wind, natural intuition)
Although Vasco wants to return home now that she feels better, Chicorycough and Sandhollow convince her to stay, at least until the epidemic is over.
[Image ID: Sandhollow and Chicorycough speak with Vasco. Sandhollow says, "We don't know how many Rat Leaders are infecting the settlement. It would be safer to wait it out."]
(Vasco: 15, female, Witch Hunter, lonesome, great kitsitter)
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On their way to the Gathering, a large dog tears out from AshClan territory and mauls Vervaincough.
[Image ID: A huge red dog stands behind an unaware Vervaincough as someone yowls, "Dog! Dog! Dog!"]
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)
(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)
(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.]
(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)
(Weevilsight: 38, female, cleric, daring, deep StarClan bond)
Love is not in the air this moon; Billowhaze and Wolfgaze have a huge fight over how much time Wolfgaze sets aside for their relationship and break up. Meanwhile, Yellowburst finally acts on her kithood crush toward Thundergale and fails miserably.
[Image ID: Billowhaze yowls at Wolfgaze, "How am I supposed to feel important when you're… you?" Under Billowhaze, it says - MATE: WOLFGAZE. Under Wolfgaze, it says - MATE: BILLOWHAZE. In the back, Thundergale walks away from Yellowburst.]
(Billowhaze: 37, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)
(Wolfgaze: 37, female, codekeeper, thoughtful, connection to StarClan, great speaker)
(Thundergale: 34, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)
(Yellowburst: 33, female, caretaker, adventurous, great mediator)
Dovefur spends his vigil contemplating the true nature of Clan life and his role in the Clan. The next morning, he quietly asks Shrewflame to help him learn caretaker skills as he continues his warrior duties.
[Image ID: Dovefur is now an adult. Under him, it reads LEVEL UP! DOVEPAW → DOVEFUR, OBLIVIOUS → COMPASSIONATE, ACTIVE IMAGINATION → GREAT KITSITTER. Shrewflame says to him, "Yellowburst wanted to get out of kit sitting today… could you help?"]
(Dovefur: 12, male, warrior, compassionate, great kitsitter)
(Shrewflame: 26, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)
Midnightpaw eavesdrops on Oilstar and wonders if he will ever able to care for himself.
[Image ID: Midnightpaw listens to Oilstar and Anchovystrike while Wolverineheart approaches him from behind.]
---
Midnightpaw was starting to lose it. The bandage that always seemed to cover the left side of his face irritated his skin, leaving him perpetually scratching at his scars. He begged Anchovystrike to let him go hunting, or patrolling, or anything that would get him out of camp, but his mentor put him down at every turn, leaving him to scrape by with the teachers in camp. It was so unfair! Midnightpaw could almost hear Valleypaw in the back of his mind, chastizing him for risking the recovery of his vision over a bit of boredom. Valleypaw got to enjoy perpetual hunting and fun in StarClan, so maybe he could back off.
Yep. Midnightpaw was losing his mind.
"Thank you for collecting the ashes, Midnight," Rattlepelt purred as she scooped said ashes into a pot of water and salt. "We'll let the skins soak in this solution, then scrap off the excess hair."
"And then we use the dung?" Midnightpaw groaned, poking at the stripped hides that sat at his feet.
"Don't worry," Rattlepelt chuckled, giving Midnightpaw a lick on the head. "I won't make you clean out the dirtplace for that. The caretakers get to do that." Rattlepelt winked as she grabbed a mouse hide and dropped it in the pot.
As Rattlepelt tried to include her son in her work, Midnightpaw's eye drifted around camp. There was still no snow, even though the older cats all insisted it would come any day now. Instead, it seemed like a gray autumn, where afternoon patrols and duties attempted to squeeze color back into camp. Everyone was focused on their duties, as had been the routine since RippleClan got back into their camp. It seemed like any cat with even a whisker of skill with leatherwork was busy crafting long pelts and leather flooring, replacing whatever was still wrecked from the flood.
"We just let that sit for now," Rattlepelt sighed, dumping the last pelt into the mixture. "I won't keep you any longer, Midnightpaw."
"Please keep me longer," Midnightpaw begged, front paws pressing against Rattlepelt's shoulder. "I have nothing to do!"
"Anchovystrike still hasn't taken you on patrol?" Rattlepelt muttered. "I thought Troutpool cleared you for patrols last moon."
"That's what I told him!" Midnightpaw groaned. Rattlepelt scanned the camp, but Anchovystrike could not be seen.
"I respect how busy he must be, what with the Rat Leader issue," Rattlepelt grumbled, licking the salty, ashy solution off her paws, "but that's no excuse to delay your training. Oilstar has been taking meetings since sunhigh. You should go to her and complain."
"I can do that?" Midnightpaw gasped, gaze locking onto Oilstar's den.
"If you don't, I will," Rattlepelt promised with a huff. "There's a lot I could say to both of your mentors, if I was a younger molly."
"Both?" Midnightpaw cocked his head, bandage once more scratching his skin. Rattlepelt stiffened slightly, paw held to her tongue for a moment too long.
"I think you know what I mean," Rattlepelt sighed, setting her paw down and licking Midnightpaw's ear. "Now go see Oilstar." Midnightpaw did not, in fact, know what his mother meant, but like many things, he did not question it. Instead, he made his way toward Oilstar's den, skirting around the Clan at work.
"He's the deputy's son, Anchovystrike." Oilstar's voice drifted from the shipwreck. "She's going to notice when his mentor doesn't take him on patrol." The sound carried Anchovystrike's scent with her. Midnightpaw perked up! Oilstar was already telling his mentor off! Good! He lingered near the Shiprock, ears turned to the den. Might as well see how mad Oilstar was.
"Do you really want Midnightpaw at the river with me right now?" Anchovystrike pointed out. Midnightpaw could just make out the swish of the white-speckled tom's tail. "The clerics want me at the border, but I don't think they want Midnightpaw catching yellowcough while he's still healing."
"Mentors have taken their apprentices out in worse conditions," Oilstar huffed. "Really, Anchovystrike, you should be ashamed. You of all cats know how warriors can adapt to vision loss. Your own sister has a condition not too different from Midnightpaw."
"No, no, that's not it," Anchovystrike stammered. "That's not the whole story, I mean."
"I was a historian. You know I appreciate a good story."
"I know he's your grandson, Oilstar, but the more I look at him, the more I worry he can't handle the responsibilities of being a warrior." Wait, it wasn't about Midnightpaw's vision? The black tom grew hot.
"In what way?" Oilstar pressed.
"Even before the accident, Midnightpaw seemed… distant. He always seems just half aware of what's happening at any given moment. He struggles to pick up on hunting cues. He's surprised by the noisiest cats. And the way he's helped around camp since the flood? Someone always needs to fix his mistakes. He messes up on simple tasks. If I take him out of camp, who's to say he won't wander across the border, or into the jaws of a wolf?"
No! Midnightpaw was a good apprentice. He worked hard! He just proved Anchovystrike wrong, he helped Rattlepelt prepare hides! Although all he did was claw off excess flesh… Midnightpaw burned in the winter chill, heart pounding.
"He's an apprentice," Oilstar huffed. "He spent most of his training in recovery. He's allowed to struggle."
"It's just the way he struggles," Anchovystrike groaned. "I don't like saying this, but at this point, I'm not sure Midnightpaw could ever be a warrior."
"Eavesdropping, Midnightpaw?" Midnightpaw jumped, back arching high. Wolverineheart stood behind him, head tilted slightly, a soft purr just reaching Midnightpaw's ears. Midnightpaw blinked dumbly. Should he say yes? Was this a question he was meant to answer? What did Wolverineheart want to know? Wolverineheart's face shifted from mirth to concern as Midnightpaw stayed frozen.
"I'm only teasing you," Wolverineheart said softly. "What's wrong?"
"Do I have to be an elder?" Midnightpaw managed to gulp. Wolverineheart stood taller, sharing in Midnightpaw's dumbfounded look.
"I don't think you're quite that old," Wolverineheart chuckled, eyes avoiding Midnightpaw.
"If I can't do anything, I have to be an elder," Midnightpaw explained, voice tightening. "Isn't that how it works?" The mouth of the elder's den across camp looked like a bear's endless maw, begging Midnightpaw to step inside and slide down its gullet.
"Who do I have to yowl at?" Wolverineheart snapped, surprising Midnightpaw once more. When had the brown molly's face soured? "No matter how well your eye heals, you can still follow your dreams. If you have to retire, half this Clan would be elders. What coward told you otherwise?"
"It's not my eye," Midnightpaw gulped, panting under the sheer heat of his anxiety. "It's me. I don't…" Could he tell Wolverineheart what Anchovystrike thought of him? Midnightpaw didn't think he was inattentive, or oblivious, or dumb… but if his own mentor thought he'd kill himself on patrol, how good of a warrior could he ever be?
It was only because of Wolverineheart's sudden shift that Midnightpaw realized Oilstar and Anchovystrike were leaving the den. A flash of surprise crossed both their faces, although Midnightpaw barely understood it. If they realized he had listened to their conversation, neither cat brought it up.
"I'm glad to see you, Midnightpaw," Oilstar sighed, touching noses with her grandson. "Anchovystrike and I just got done with an important talk."
"Am I an elder now?" Midnightpaw asked. The blood spinning in his head made it hard to focus on Oilstar's words.
"No!" all three adults yowled, in varying degrees of horror.
"You'll be a warrior someday," Oilstar promised, licking Midnightpaw's ear, "even though your training will take longer. No, Anchovystrike and I decided that, with everything that has happened in recent moons, he can't take the time to be the best mentor he could be for you." Wolverineheart's bi-colored gaze hardened on Anchovystrike, who quickly pulled his eyes down. "Since Troutpool has cleared you for training again, I want to give you a different mentor."
"I'll do it," Wolverineheart interuppted, her whole body perking up.
"Oh," Oilstar gasped softly. "I'm glad to see you're enthusiastic, Wolverineheart, but I was thinking someone with more experience as a mentor, like Halibutdusk. You'll be a mother soon. I don't want to take you away from your kits."
"Whatever you think Midnightpaw needs," Wolverineheart huffed, hardening her stance, "I can give him. I would love to be a mentor. The blind can lead the blind!"
"Do I count as blind?" Midnightpaw muttered. The itch of his bandages once more became the only thing he could focus on.
"You make a good argument," Oilstar conceded with a nod. "I'll summon the Clan and make you Midnightpaw's official mentor."
Midnightpaw's thoughts swam wildly as Oilstar climbed the Shiprock. Anchovystrike said something to him—an apology?—but the words didn't pierce Midnightpaw's mind. He wasn't helpless. He could still go on adventures. He could still graduate.
(Wolverineheart: 34, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)
RippleClan wakes up to its first snowfall, but find Tallowheart, Splashtuft, and Billowhaze never returned from their nighttime hunt. They find neither sight or scent of the three toms. Estherfern can only confirm their deaths in a dream... a bad, bad dream.
[Image ID: Estherfern looks upon Tallowheart, Splashtuft, and Billowhaze, now spirits of StarClan. Estherfern yowls, "Is the All-Seeing preventing you from explaining yourselves? Say something!"]
(Estherfern: 136, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
(Tallowheart: 38, male, historian, nervous, good swimmer)
(Splashtuft: 50, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)
(Billowhaze: 37, male, historian, loyal, good kitsitter)
With her mother dead, Quickpaw wishes to live with her lost littermates as a historian rather than a mediator. Boughfur promises to restart her training and help her catch up to everyone else.
[Image ID: Pearbranch and Icepaw, both with adult sprites, gather around an adult Quickpaw. Under her, it reads NEW(ISH) PLAYER: QUICKPAW, 12, FEMALE, AMBITIOUS, GOOD SWIMMER. Behind the siblings, Boughfur says, "Lettucestar might not like losing a Clanmate, but he values family. He wouldn't keep you from yours."]
"I'm not going to tell anyone," Boughfur chuckled as Icepaw and Pearbranch paced around the border. "Just be honest. How often did you see her?"
"Usually every new moon," Pearbranch said, absently clawing the side of a tree.
"Pearbranch!" Icepaw whined, hopping up from where he rested.
"She said she won't tell!" Pearbranch huffed.
"Not that it matters anymore," Boughfur purred. "You'll be able to spend your first proper Longest Night together. You won't have to worry about politics anymore."
It was hard to say it would be a "proper" Longest Night, Icepaw thought. The holiday was just a few days away, and despite winter chill claiming the land, there had been no snow. Rather than trotting through snow and ice, as Icepaw's earliest memories recalled, he slipped on frosty leaves long since crumbled under the weight of passing deer. Had it been so snowless and gray when Puddlewhisper found Icepaw and Pearbranch? And now, a year later, the lost daughter was rejoining her litter.
The sunrise illuminated the gaps of the trees, making it easy to see the approaching figure. Icepaw and Pearbranch both perked their ears and tightened their chests. Quickpaw's brown eyes looked orange in the winter dawn, gleaming with hope.
"Hi," Quickpaw laughed, voice cracking with a joyful cry.
Icepaw and Pearbranch surged past Boughfur before the older historian could say a word. Pearbranch wrapped her front paws around Quickpaw, purring deeply. Icepaw pressed his head into Quickpaw's cheek. Quickpaw pulled her brother and sister close, laughing through what few sobs escaped.
"Welcome to RippleClan, Quickpaw," Boughfur said, stirring Icepaw from his blinding joy. "The Clan is excited to greet you."
"I, uh," Quickpaw gulped, collecting her breath, "I hope it wasn't hard to get Lettucestar to let me go." Pearbranch groomed Quickpaw's neck, as though trying to clean off the stench of still water and mud.
"Lettucestar might not like losing a Clanmate," Boughfur explained, "but he values family. He wouldn't keep you from yours."
"You'll be a historian in no time!" Pearbranch declared. She hesitated, however, stepping back and adding, "If you still want to switch paths, I mean."
"I do," Quickpaw sighed with a dip of her head. "I like science more than diplomacy. I'll be happier as a historian."
"That's why Oilstar asked me to meet you," Boughfur chuckled, moving close. "We discussed who would be the best choice of mentor, and Oilstar thought I would do well."
"You're Boughfur, right?" Quickpaw said. "I've spent some time with your sisters."
"You'll be my first apprentice," Boughfur chirped, adjusting the dry flowers on her pelt. "I promise, I won't treat you like a kit. You're an adult, and I want to respect that, even if you have to restart your training. I want us to be partners more than mentor and apprentice."
"I like that," Quickpaw purred. She touched noses with her new mentor, shimmering with anticipation.
"Quickpaw, Quickpaw!" Icepaw cheered, laughing. When Quickpaw gave him an odd look, he huffed, "We weren't at your apprentice ceremony! Feels right to chant your name now."
"Quickpaw, Quickpaw!" Pearbranch chanted, kneading the limp leaves. Quickpaw laughed and waved her siblings back to her side.
"Quick, Sleek, and Silent," Quickpaw chuckled as Icepaw and Pearbranch pressed into her. "Back together again."
(Boughfur: 34, female, historian, righteous, great climber)
(Pearbranch: 12, female, historian, righteous, good hunter, good storyteller)
(Quickpaw: 12, female, historian apprentice, ambitious, good swimmer)
Speaking with Quickpaw about her grief for her mother helps Honeybuzz heal from Stormjump’s death.
[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Quickpaw sit in the medicine den together. Quickpaw says, "It's hard to grieve her when everyone here hates her." Under Honeybuzz, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]
---
Honeybuzz was not the right cat to introduce Longest Night to his sons. He wasn't in a particularly festive mood that year, and the kits didn't deserve to have such a great night ruined by grief and bitterness. There were plenty of clerics in RippleClan to conduct the night's religious rites. Honeybuzz could organize the medicine den. That was for the best.
While it was a snowless holiday, it was far from warm. Half the Clan stayed near the main bonfire, tucked under long pelts and in each other's embrace. Others fixed the torches along the edge of camp and muttered prayers to their respective Celestials. They traded gifts or gathered around Frostdancer, who expertly played the Gutpluck. Beekit, Morningkit, and Patchkit were with Yellowburst and Sandhollow, enjoying a wide collection of gifts from their aunt and various uncles.
Now it is important to mention that Honeybuzz was not neglected on that cold and bitter night. His gifts neatly lined his nest. His brothers each carved a leaf into a chunk of wood, a piece of art to always remind Honeybuzz that he was loved. Troutpool revealed a new mortar and pestle for the medicine den, and the other clerics each gave each other dyed mossballs. They certainly brightened the dim, empty medicine den, but the light merely swirled around Honeybuzz's heart. It had yet to penetrate.
"Hi, Honeybuzz." Honeybuzz had been cupping his cicada wing necklace in his paw, staring mindlessly at the half-preserved membrane, when Quickpaw's voice startled him back to reality. The newcomer had a new necklace around her neck, carrying two wooden charms; one a diamond, the other a foreign shape, like a small circle sitting on a larger one.
Honeybuzz must have been staring for longer than he intended, as Quickpaw glanced at her gift and said, "Oh, my siblings surprised me with this. The diamond is supposed to be a shard of ice, and this thing is shaped like a pear. They would have made something for me, but what shape represents quick? Heh."
"It's a good gift," Honeybuzz hummed. "So, what do you need?"
"I think all this socialization is giving me a headache," Quickpaw sighed, squeezing her eyes tight. "Icepaw said I could use his 'stash', whatever that means." Honeybuzz scoffed softly, flicking his ears toward the patient nests. He led Quickpaw further into the shadows.
A small jar sat inside one of the nests. While faded in the dark, Honeybuzz could see the diamond carved into the side of the terracotta. So that was the symbol's meaning…
"Icepaw spends quite a bit of time in here with his chronic headaches," Honeybuzz explained. "We decided that rather than prepare fresh medicine every time he needed it, we could give Icepaw a jar of herbs he could lick from when he came in. Gingerspring figured out what herbs best help your brother and keeps the jar stocked. Just take a tongue-ful." Honeybuzz carefully undid the leather lid, revealing a chunky powder of dandelion, feverfew, and valerian root. Quickpaw stuck her muzzle in, flinching as the pottery rubbed awkwardly against her whiskers. She licked up a dose of the medicine and pulled back, smacking her lips.
"You would think I'd be used to talking with everyone," Quickpaw sighed, glancing back toward the party. "I spent half my life training for it. This just feels different." Wait, was Quickpaw going to vent to Honeybuzz? This was far from the night where Honeybuzz could offer a kind ear.
"If you're overwhelmed," Honeybuzz sighed, sealing the jar, "I'm sure you can sleep early. You could join Puddlewhisper and your siblings. I overheard Icepaw brag about sleeping in the warrior's den tonight."
"I don't know if Puddlewhisper would really welcome me," Quickpaw groaned, taking a seat near Weevilsight's nest. And Honeybuzz only encouraged her, how wonderful. "She's been nothing but nice, but I'm not one of her kits. Nimblestep will always be my mom… but some cats might resent that."
Honeybuzz sighed. It seemed there was no hiding from the world that night. If Stormjump were around, she would have encouraged someone, anyone, to go see Honeybuzz, whether their tail was falling off or they had a cough. Could she have nudged Quickpaw Honeybuzz's way? He should help her, he was a father after all, these were the sort of things fathers should be able to work through. What if it were Patchkit asking those questions?
"I don't see how anyone could resent you for something you didn't do," Honeybuzz pointed out, taking a reluctant seat.
"I guess it's a SlugClan habit," Quickpaw sighed. "There's a belief over there that if someone avoids judgment, their children must answer in their stead. It restores power to StarClan, I think. Mom told me not to put my faith in that, but it does make me think. Should I be doing something to make up for what my mom did to RippleClan? Would I feel less guilty?" Quickpaw hid behind her whiskers as she added, "I know it doesn't make a lot of sense, but that's feelings for you."
"That all sounds like yet another tradition our founders wanted to leave behind," Honeybuzz huffed. "You are your own molly here, Quickpaw. You leave your own legacy."
"That's true," Quickpaw admitted with another glance outside. She took a big breath and said, "It's hard to grieve her when everyone here hates her."
"From Icepaw's stories," Honeybuzz sighed, "you're not one to back away from bullies." Honeybuzz rolled the orange-dyed moss-ball, made by Gingerspring, under his paw. "I'm sure if someone is selfish enough to yowl at you for grieving, you can show them who's in the wrong."
"Right once again," Quickpaw chuckled softly. "I guess that's cleric wisdom."
"Might just be Honeybuzz wisdom," Honeybuzz hummed. "Have you met Gingerspring?" Quickpaw snorted, nodding along to the harsh joke. Honeybuzz suddenly realized it was the first joke he had told since the Ocean's Assault.
"I think Icepaw's 'stash' is starting to help my headache," Quickpaw purred, stretching her flank high. "Thank you, Honeybuzz. I think I can face the crowd again. Are you going to stay in here all night?" Honeybuzz looked outside. Beekit, Morningkit, and Patchkit had left Yellowburst and Sandhollow behind in favor of trying out the large drum Rattlepelt saved from the flood. Patchkit beat awkwardly to the rhythm of Frostdancer's music.
"Perhaps I shouldn't," Honeybuzz hummed.
The light of the bonfire inched past the cold and warmed Honeybuzz's heart.
(Honeybuzz: 50, male, cleric, daring, sklled toolsmith, good teacher)
(Quickpaw: 12, female, historian apprentice, ambitious, good swimmer)
Waspdawn comes down with Vasco’s yellowcough, making the clerics, Wolfgaze, and Anchovystrike wonder if the Rat Leaders in the human settlement may grow to affect RippleClan more with their new arrivals.
[Image ID: The five clerics, Wolfgaze, and Anchovystrike gather together. Honeybuzz says, "We can’t predict what loners we’ll come across. Anchovystrike should examine all visitors for rat leaders." Waspdawn and Vasco stand in the back. Under Waspdawn, it says + CONDITION: YELLOWCOUGH.]
During a storm, the ocean waves crash into RippleClan’s camp, threatening to drown many.
[Image ID: Wildclaw and Brightreed stand on a boulder amidst stormy waters, with Wolfgaze on a rock in the background. Wildclaw yowls, "Valleypaw!" to which Brightreed responses, "I'll get him!" Under him, it reads + CONDITION: TORN PELT.]
It's a rite of passage for RippleClan kits to stare up at the great shipwreck that watched over the camp and ask the nearest historian "How did it get here?" After all, even the youngest kits could see the ocean from camp and hear the water at its highest tide, tail-lengths from the westernmost rocks. It never rose high enough to lift a ship all the way from the horizon to the top of the rocks. So how did it happen?
Historians would give some vague guess, some storm that none of them had ever witnessed, but they could never give a definitive answer. It had been there before their parents' parents' parents. No one would ever know what caused RippleClan's ship to wreck itself upon the coast of the Clans.
But that day, as rain pelted RippleClan as hard as claws against skin and saltwater leaked between the western walls, Yarrowclaw could imagine how the ship landed on RippleClan's shore.
RippleClan only realized that the storm had grown worse when Billowhaze loudly complained about his nest being wet, waking up everyone in the warrior's den. Water flowed through minute gaps in the wall in a steady stream, soaking into the leather floor. It ruined the nests near the back of the den, ending just before Yarrowclaw's nest. The brown and white warrior stirred only as surprised orders bounced around the den and cats scrambled out into the bruising rain.
"Asterblaze!" Wildclaw barked, the first out of the den. "Valleypaw! The warrior's den is flooding! We need to dam the holes!" Asterblaze and Valleypaw, who had both been guarding the camp through the night and were soaked through their skin, hurried into camp at the deputy's call.
"The water will ruin the artisan's den," Rattlepelt gulped, hurriedly pulling her fox pelt over. "We need paws to take our supplies to higher ground."
"You can direct the other artisans on that," Wildclaw told her mate with a swift nod. "The tree line should provide some cover for now."
"Valleypaw, loop around camp and find the weak points on that side of the den wall," Asterblaze told his young apprentice. "I'll get some mud, and that should seal them up well enough to get through this rain."
"I'll try," Valleypaw promised as the artisans swarmed past the stunned crowd of soaked warriors, following Rattlepelt's orders to move their pots and baskets.
"Be mindful of the waves!" Asterblaze added before Valleypaw ran out of camp. In an artisan's tale, that sort of statement would have been followed by a violent clap of thunder, but the sky was dark, simply relieving its unbearable load.
Yarrowclaw's fellow warriors squirmed and groaned at the rain, shaking or licking their pelts in vain. Ravenweaver and Mitespark rolled a large pot across the soaked sand while Frostdancer ran basketloads of smaller supplies out to the forest. Yarrowclaw's paws itched. Should she be moving supplies too? Would the rain ruin the fresh-kill? She could—no. No ideas. She had to just listen to what Wildclaw ordered. That was what was best.
"Where are we supposed to sleep?" Billowhaze groaned, ears dragged down with waterweight. "I'm not going back in there tonight."
"We'll figure that out," Wildclaw huffed. "I'm sure we can make room in the other dens."
Yarrowclaw was used to the sound of stormy waves hitting the shore beyond the warrior's den. She knew their foaming, creaking sound well. That sound was a steady backdrop to the night's annoyances. Yet Yarrowclaw's ears bled as a loud creak began to overtake Wildclaw's voice. Yarrowclaw looked toward the foam-stained walls of camp, walls that had never had so much ocean foam smeared on their surfaces as long as Yarrowclaw had been around. Beyond those bramble-topped walls, the ocean stood up.
"SHIT!" Wildclaw shrieked above the rising chaos as the gigantic wave crashed into RippleClan's camp.
Yarrowclaw's paws left the ground. Saltwater surrounded her on all sides. The force of the wave shoved the air out of her chest. Someone's large form smacked into Yarrowclaw's jaw. The pair locked claws into each other, desperate for something, anything, they could hold onto. The wave shoved the confused cats deep into the sand, pressed into the crook of a rock. Yarrowclaw's eyes burned with salt.
When the sting of rain hit Yarrowclaw's nose, the half-drowned warrior gasped violently. Her vision blurred as the cat she had collided with, Venturedapple, stumbled off her. Yarrowclaw coughed out salt and foam. Water formed a pool across the camp. The brambles that lined the eastern wall of camp were now thrown about the clearing, broken by the force of the water. Warriors laid in heaps, smashed against the rocks but still breathing, still groaning and hissing with newfound bruises. Oilstar shoved a fallen plank out from in front of her den and searched for explanation. Wolfgaze had somehow landed perfectly on top of the apprentice's den and looked just as shocked by the sight as Yarrowclaw felt about seeing her.
Some of the smaller rocks of the camp wall had rolled from their resting place. Yarrowclaw nearly exploded when she saw one of the rocks that formed the sides of the nursery had rolled in front of it, but she remembered—Stormjump had that infection. She was in the medicine den, and her kits would be with her or Honeybuzz. The medicine den only had a fallen plank floating in the paw-deep water, they were fine for now. Even though water now flowed over the rocks and deepened the waters within camp, everyone was still in camp. The artisans were by the forest, so…
Wait. No. Valleypaw.
"Valleypaw!" Wildclaw yowled. She had landed belly-up in front of the elder's den, next to a dazed Anchovystrike and an unconscious Leathermask. Despite her wounded Clanmates surrounding her, Wildclaw scrambled up, hissing as she moved. She limped toward the flooding wall and climbed onto the brambleless rocks. She searched the watery beach beyond the wall for signs of black fur and yellow eyes. As she looked, Brightreed crawled out from underneath Wolverineheart and Thundergale; the three had been washed against the eastern walls and laid under the falling water as they collected themselves. A bramble mass clung to Brightreed's body, but he shoved it off despite the blood mixing into the dark stormy waters.
"I'll get him!" Brightreed yowled. He jumped onto the slick rocks and dove into the unseen waters beyond. Wildclaw shook herself out, flinging thick drops about, before following the young warrior down.
Yarrowclaw examined herself. She was cold, yes, and certainly aching and bruised, like everyone else. Yet, unlike Leathermask, she was not unconscious. Unlike Brightreed, she was not bleeding. Unlike Tallowheart, when he stumbled into camp with broken ribs, nothing was broken. Even Venturedapple, who groaned at Yarrowclaw's side, seemed shockingly unharmed. Would he have been so safe if he hadn't been thrown into Yarrowclaw? He practically rode her to… to safety.
"StarClan, no," Yarrowclaw muttered, voice lost in the rain and crashing waves. "Please. I can't be prophesized. Please."
Yarrowclaw had barely listened to Oilstar or the clerics since Estherfern told her about her vision. Whatever it was about, Yarrowclaw couldn't help. She offered a dozen interpretations. If the ship was covered in white flowers, maybe they should be talking to the cat literally named Whiteflower. If it was a ship, maybe it was related to the shipwreck itself and not an individual cat. Anything could be true, except for what Yarrowclaw knew to be true. The feral little voice in her head was already rambling.
You're special. You knew it. You knew it! You're chosen. You're invincible. You're going to survive the storm. No matter what happens today, you can't die. StarClan said so. If ships carry others to shore, and you're the ship, you can save your Clan. No one will die if you're around.
No, no, no! Yarrowclaw couldn't be special, she could not be chosen or invincible for her own sake. The moment she gave into those wild, uncontrollable feelings, she put everyone at risk. And yet the vision… it was almost permission to give in. It was StarClan's way of saying just this once, you can be a little delusional, because in this situation, you aren't.
You get to be a hero, Yarrowclaw.
"Get to the forest!" Yarrowclaw yowled as Icepaw and Pearpaw waded out of the apprentice's den, coughing and shaking. "We need to get out of camp! Just evacuate!"
"Find your kin, everyone!" Oilstar barked as another wave crested over the rocks. The Clan dug their paws into the sand and stood against the salty pressure. Yarrowclaw shut her eyes to block out the sting. She held her breath when the water consumed her head and gasped when it receeded. The water now rippled at her elbows.
The clerics aren't out yet. They're dying. You can keep them alive. No one dies around you. Go.
Yarrowclaw jumped through the water, pushing against the terrified warriors flooding toward the exit. She stumbled, jaw smacking the cold water. As she pushed herself up, she saw Oilstar unite with Carnationspeckle in front of the water-filled artisan's den. The mates touched noses, grateful in each other's safety. Oilstar's eyes met Yarrowclaw, stunned at the only cat not flocking for the exit. She believes you're special too, she's the one who tried to convince you, she knows what you have to do. Yarrowclaw pressed on to the medicine den.
The medicine den was more flooded than Yarrowclaw expected. Water seemed to seep through the sand and the cracks in the shipwreck. The back half of the medicine den had turned into a water-filled cave. Tallowheart lingered at the water's edge, struggling to stand even with Troutpool's help. Gingerspring pounded on Weevilsight's prone belly until she vomited water. The tortoiseshell's signature petals floated out of the den. Midnightpaw cowered against the den wall, the left half of his face wrapped tight in bandages. He shook his head wildly as Honeybuzz and Estherfern cooed for him to move.
"It will get worse if we stay," Honeybuzz snapped. "Midnightpaw, we need to leave now. Just go!"
"I can't!" Midnightpaw whined, hiding his good eye against the ruined shelves of medicine.
"Weevilsight, come on, let's get out of here," Gingerspring gulped as Weevilsight stood, shaking and gagging. "We have to go!"
"Yarrowclaw," Estherfern gasped, the first to notice the newcomer in the chaos and rain. There was more fear in her eyes than Yarrowclaw had seen since Mosspounce carried Foampaw's mangled body into camp. Yet at the sight of Yarrowclaw, Estherfern's blown-out pupils relaxed, ever so slightly. "The vision. Just as your ancestors predicted." Estherfern turned toward Troutpool and Tallowheart, who limped away from the thick waters in the back of the den. "Stay with Yarrowclaw, you two. Nothing will happen if you do."
Yes! Yarrowclaw wouldn't let anyone die at her side. A silly storm couldn't kill her. Nothing could! Yarrowclaw bit her tongue. Blood mixed with saltwater.
"Midnightpaw, your brothers and mothers are just out of camp," Yarrowclaw huffed. "I won't let you get dragged off." Midnightpaw stirred from his blind panic, risking a long look at the brown warrior. Honeybuzz took his chance—he shoved Midnightpaw out of his little corner and into Yarrowclaw, splashing all the way.
"We need to get Indigo," Weevilsight coughed as the group trudged out of the medicine den. "They're in the quarantine den. They're still too weak to move through all this."
"I'll get him, I'll get him," Yarrowclaw huffed. She squinted as the full force of the rain once again burned her eyes. The floodwaters dragged at her fur, trying to keep her still.The camp was empty now, everyone else had evacuated. They knew Yarrowclaw couldn't die. No force of nature could contain her! The longer Yarrowclaw stayed in camp, the easier it was to believe that.
"Wait, look," Tallowheart wheezed, wincing as the effort of talking pressed against his broken ribs. A pale ginger figure slipped around the curve of the shipwreck, keeping a lilac cat on their paws.
"Pearpaw?" Troutpool gasped as Pearpaw helped Indigo shove through the heavy waters. "Why haven't you left camp yet? It isn't safe for an apprentice!"
"It isn't safe for Indigo, either, and no one was helping him!" Pearpaw snapped. She buckled as Indigo fell further into her, continuing to cough. Her shaking legs pressed hard into the unseen sand below and shoved Indigo back up.
"Knew I'd like this place," Indigo chuckled weakly. "Could do without the water, though."
"Wave!" Weevilsight screeched, her dark green eyes fixed on the rushing waters flowing over the rocks. Even though Yarrowclaw could not see or hear another massive wave, she knew Weevilsight's clairvoyance was never wrong. Yarrowclaw shoved Honeybuzz and Midnightpaw toward the western walls.
"Brace!" Yarrowclaw ordered as the creaking sound of another massive wave finally reached her ears.
The clerics and their patients swarmed the rocks, pressing themselves flat against the slick stones. Everyone breathed as deep as they could as the next tidal wave smacked over the entire camp. The ocean shoved Yarrowclaw into the wall as hard as it could. She couldn't move, even with her star-blessed invinciblity. The pressure shoved the air out of Yarrowclaw's chest, but she refused to breathe in water. Her face shoved into Honeybuzz's flank, and Midnightpaw's yowl of panic was suffocated by the onslaught.
When the chaos receeded, the water covered Yarrowclaw's belly. Pearpaw, Indigo, and everyone from the medicine den remained along the western wall, leaning against the rocks, struggling for breath. But they were there. Thanks to Yarrowclaw.
"Swim," Yarrowclaw barked, once more shoving Honeybuzz where she needed him to go. The bandages around Midnightpaw's face came undone from the water weight, revealing half-scarred and snarled red marks crossing over his swollen left eye. He instintively hovered at Pearpaw's side, just far enough to stay out of Indigo's way, but just close enough to keep his good eye on his friend. Tallowheart whimpered in pain, shaking as the water splashed against his bruised chest, but Troutpool and Estherfern helped him on.
The brambles of the camp exit were somehow still in place, forming a tight tunnel with barely enough room to breach the water. Not for them, then. The rest of the brambles that typically lined the rock walls were gone, so that would be the group's way out. Yarrowclaw scaled the smallest of those rocks. Her brittle paws rubbed hard against the rain-slick boulders. Honeybuzz climbed up and over, splashing hard in the open waters beyond camp. One by one, the occupants of the medicine den helped one another over the wall and out of their flooded camp.
The beach was gone. It lurked under the belly-high floodwaters, claimed by the feral ocean. Still, the ocean could not claim everything. RippleClan gathered at the treeline, panting and shivering. They yowled the clerics' names, running back to the water to help their kin to shore.
"Pearpaw!" Icepaw bolted ahead of the adults, charging at his sister. "You were supposed to be behind me!" Icepaw dragged his sister out of the water. Scaleripple slipped behind him and helped Indigo limp into the safe confines of thick, rolling roots.
"Midnightpaw!" When the wounded black apprentice made it to the forest, Rattlepelt wrapped herself around him, shaking harder than anyone else. Further back, Yarrowclaw saw Brightreed nursing his bramble-torn pelt, blood dissolving in the heavy rain. Wildclaw sat hunched in on herself, Whiteflower and Shrewflame on either side. She was wailing.
Yarrowclaw could not see Valleypaw.
"Stormjump!" Honeybuzz yowled as Oilstar and Carnationspeckle met the survivors at the edge of the muddy grass. "Stormjump! Where are my sons?" Oh. Had Yarrowclaw not been in the mindset that she could fight the ocean and win, her stomach might have dropped. She had been focused on getting everyone she saw out, not checking who should have been there in the first place.
"They weren't in the medicine den?" Oilstar gulped, voice strained. Honeybuzz's pupils blew out wide. "Honeybuzz, I saw them, your kits were sleeping with you tonight, you wanted to watch over Stormjump's infection."
"I sent them back!" Honeybuzz shrieked. His cicada wing necklace, still clinging to his neck after all the chaos, whipped against his neck as he spun back toward the camp. "Stormjump felt better! They're in the nursery!"
The nursery… the nursery with a giant rock in front of it… the nursery Yarrowclaw didn't think to check.
[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Yarrowclaw stand in the rain. Yarrowclaw says, "Treat the injured. I can do it. I can get your family out. I can't die."]
It's fine. You're fine. You're you. You'll get them out. They'll be fine. You'll bring them back. They can't die if you don't let them. Just go back.
No! Yarrowclaw was mortal! She'd probably drown trying to save them! She couldn't get them alone! She could lead a patrol. Yes, that was it. She just needed help. The vision never suggested it was all on Yarrowclaw.
Honeybuzz ran for the water, but Yarrowclaw instinctively stepped in front of him.
"No," she growled. "Treat the injured. I can do it. I can get your family out. I can't die." Her spastic eyes stuck onto the nearest cat. "Carnationspeckle. You're a good swimmer. We have to get them." Yarrowclaw almost wanted Carnationspeckle to reject, to pull rank, to force Yarrowclaw to stay with the rest of the Clan while other cats, cats who knew when their bodies were tired, cats who could give up, took her place. But Carnationspeckle turned to her mate, fear raising her hackles. Oilstar nodded.
"Venturedapple, we need your strength," Carnationspeckle called into the grieving, shocked crowd. Venturedapple emerged tall, eyes hard and ready.
"They're my kits!" Honeybuzz yowled. He tried to skirt around Yarrowclaw, but Splashtuft, Drumtooth, and Leathermask (who had luckily woken up from whatever blow he'd sustained earlier) lunged at their brother. The littermates pulled Honeybuzz into the crowd by his scruff as the gold and white cleric screamed, "They need me!"
"You're barely standing!" Drumtooth snarled, pinning his brother into the muddy grass.
"Your kits don't need their father drowning tonight," Leathermask said. He smacked Honeybuzz's flailing paws down.
"They can't end up like Mom," Honeybuzz whined. His claws pulled up large chunks of grass.
"The others will get them," Splashtuft promised. Of course they would. No one around Yarrowclaw would die. Whether StarClan simply knew it to be true for the night or whether they blessed her, Yarrowclaw was the ship that could bring them back to shore.
Yarrowclaw left Honeybuzz pinned by his brothers and charged back into the water with Carnationspeckle and Venturedapple behind her. Water now flowed steadily over the tops of the rock wall. Carnationspeckle leaped over the camp walls and dove into the submerged clearing. Water flew up Yarrowclaw's nose as she followed. The rock she had seen earlier, rolled in front of the nursery by the impact of the first massive wave, still sat, trapping its occupants within.
"Stormjump!" Venturedapple called, floating into the barricading rock. "Kits! Can you hear us!"
"Venturedapple!" It was Morningkit! His voice slipped through the rain-filled cracks of the blockage. "Help!"
"Everyone on this side," Carnationspeckle barked, swimming around the den. Yarrowclaw waded after her. "Venturedapple, Yarrowclaw, you need to push this boulder as hard as you can. I'm going to dive and dig out the sand around the rock, make it easier to move. Now push!" Venturedapple positioned himself next to Yarrowclaw. His long fur floated in the churning water. Carnationspeckle breathed deep and shoved her head under. Yarrowclaw braced her front paws on the rock. Venturedapple copied her. Hind legs digging into the sand, shaking under the pressure of the moving floodwaters, they pushed.
Don't think about Carnationspeckle. She doesn't matter. She doesn't even need to dig. You don't need any of them to save the kits. You can move this boulder all by yourself. StarClan chose you for this. Your legs don't hurt. You can't feel pain. You don't get tired. This isn't a bad thing. This is the best thing that could happen. Push the rock. Save those kits.
"Be kind to yourself, Yarrowclaw."
Yarrowclaw yowled as the boulder finally, finally, rolled a mouse-length back. Yarrowclaw couldn't see inside. Carnationspeckle pulled her head out of the water, sand caught in her fur. Yarrowclaw's legs gave out as Carnationspeckle and Venturedapple hooked their paws through the opening. With one last shove, the rock tumbled out from the entrance of the nursery.
The nursery was almost flooded to the ceiling. The deep, safe confines that Yarrowclaw spent her earliest days were hidden in the flood. A dark ginger form floated by the ceiling like debris far at sea. Three tom-kits clung to Stormjump's back. Their claws drew blood from their beloved mother, but she kept their small heads above the rising water. Stormjump's face was… peaceful.
Yarrowclaw grabbed Beekit by the scruff. He looked eerily like his father; same golden head and tail, same blue eyes, same white torso. It made the night loop in Yarrowclaw's head as Carnationspeckle pulled Patchkit and Morningkit close. Venturedapple grabbed Stormjump's still scruff and pulled her body out of the nursery.
"Mom told us to hold on to her," Patchkit stammered. "We held on, but, but we hurt her!" Carnationspeckle lifted Patchkit onto Venturedapple's sturdy back. Morningkit climbed on top of Carnationspeckle
"Where's Dad?" Beekit cried, squirming in Yarrowclaw's chattering jaws.
"We're bringing you to him," Carnationspeckle promised, voice breaking. "Just stay on us. You did so well. Stormjump is so proud of you." With the kits balanced as high above the water as they could carry them, the three brown and white cats waded toward the watery rocks and the forest beyond.
This didn't make sense. No one around Yarrowclaw was supposed to die. Why wasn't Stormjump moving? This wasn't what the vision said!
A ship could still bring a body to shore, it seemed.
(Yarrowclaw: 35, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Wildclaw: 92, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
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[Image ID: Lightningrunner yowls at Estherfern, "You took her from me! I barely got to know her! Why do you get to be a mother when she didn’t get to be mine?" Shrewflame and Whitepaw run toward the pair.]
ONE MOON PRIOR…
It seemed like a waste of a skilled cleric's time to accompany an apprentice to his training, but Estherfern supposed she would want someone close by if one of her kits were to injure themselves carelessly. She strolled beside Lightningrunner as Shrewflame and Whitepaw pranced ahead of them, making their way to Battle Beach. It seemed like far too gray and bright a day to spar, but the youth of RippleClan didn't care much for her opinion.
"Mr. Billowhaze said to be careful by the water," Whitepaw chirped, gazing up at his older brother like a Clan oogles a new leader. "Do you think Mom's stories about fish-cats are real?"
"Mom's an artisan, not a historian," Shrewflame laughed. "Her stories are all fake. Don't worry, the only creatures you should worry about in the ocean are poisonous fish."
"I don't think that makes me feel better," Whitepaw chuckled awkwardly. The two brothers left dainty pawprints in the sand.
"If you want to know more about the ocean," Lightningrunner said, "ask me anything."
"I will, Ms. Lightningrunner," Whitepaw promised, turning an ear back to her. Estherfern hummed softly at the young apprentice's strange phrasing. There was something humble about the titles, even though Estherfern had no idea what they meant.
"Battle Beach!" Shrewflame chirped as the patrol crossed into that special portion of the shoreline. To Estherfern, there was nothing particularly special about this portion of the beach as opposed to any other stretch of snow-dusted land. She wouldn't have known of their arrival had Shrewflame not pointed it out. Still, her Clanmates raved about fond memories sparring along the sand, so it was yet another thing she learned to keep her mouth shut about.
"Is sparring at all like that big fight Mr. Tallowheart and Ms. Cobaltchaser had?" Whitepaw asked, kneading the sand.
"That was just a fight, Whitepaw," Shrewflame laughed, running his tail over Whitepaw's head as he walked past. "When we spar with our Clanmates, we're practicing our skills and challenging ourselves. We aren't hurting one another, though. That's why you don't unseathe your claws. You aren't supposed to draw blood when you're training."
"I won't," Whitepaw promised. He ran to catch up with Shrewflame. He glanced back at Estherfern and Lightningrunner and called, "Ms. Lightningrunner, are you going to spar too?"
"I'll let you start with your brother!" Lightningrunner called. Estherfern found a partially dry spot closer to the trees. She sat her bandage down and tucked her paws under herself. Lightningrunner sat beside her, tail stirring the dusting of snow behind her. Shrewflame steadied himself, paws dug into the sand. Whitepaw copied him as best he could. His legs stretched out a bit too far to look comfortable.
"I'll start simple," Shrewflame said. "A lot of the basics of fighting involve the sort of moves cats instinctually use when they're in danger. Paw swipes, grabbing onto your enemy, things like that. Let's start with swipes. Swipe at my face, as best you—" Whitepaw's fluffy paw whipped out from his awkward stance. He smacked Shrewflame across the face. Shrewflame stumbled to the side, blinking wildly.
"Ah!" Whitepaw yelped. "Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?" Whitepaw hovered around Shrewflame, now scared to get too close. But Shrewflame just laughed. He shook out his pelt, letting his laughter ripple through his ginger fur.
"Now that was a swipe!" Shrewflame roared, rubbing his face on his leg. "StarClan, Whitepaw! Who knew you were so strong?" Whitepaw chuckled awkwardly, but his ears perked high and his tail unwound itself from his side.
Shrewflame went on about angling your paw and steadying yourself after a strike, but Estherfern's attention drifted. The forest had grown grayer by the day, and the snow meant approaching death and hibernation to the plants her fellow clerics so valued. She never imagined caring so much about medical stocks, but she never imagined any of this when she first set off west under the orders of her God.
"These two will be fine," Estherfern huffed to Lightningrunner, stretching as she stood. "I'm going to forage. Will you help?"
"Alright," Lightningrunner said, getting to her paws. Estherfern left her bandage behind and led Lightningrunner into the trees as Shrewflame and Whitepaw laughed and batted at each other.
RippleClan would soon turn to bark-based medicine as winter rolled in and vibrant herbs vanished, but it wasn't winter yet. It was the sort of weather where everything looked a bit like Estherfern; brown and tan and earthy. She could see how the world fought to ignore the approaching chill, even though the first frost had settled over the land. Green grass mixed with yellow, insisting on life. The earliest of winter blooms still dared not to show themselves. The land was waiting, preparing, hoping for a peaceful winter, just like all the Clans.
Estherfern brushed aside snow to get a better look at every plant. Not too far from Battle Beach, she uncovered chicory, its leaves almost identical to a dandelion. Artisans and caretakers could roast the root for their meals and strengthen everyone's stomaches. Estherfern carefully dug around the leaves and plucked the root from the frosty dirt.
"Is this something we should collect?" Lightningrunner called. Her paw danced around a large fallen branch, sprinkled with golden-brown mushrooms. Estherfern joined Lightningrunner and looped around the branch. She studied the mushrooms and their round caps, with a name quickly coming to mind.
"Deadly skullcaps," Estherfern warned, shaking her head. "I knew these mushrooms in my kithood. They are some of the most toxic mushrooms any cat has ever seen. They're as deadly as deathberries. Don't touch them."
Estherfern trotted back to her chicory root and picked it up. She glanced back at Lightningrunner, ready for the young historian to follow her to better, safer herbs. Yet Lightningrunner just stood there. She stared at the deadly skullcaps. Her dark blue eyes were slit and sharp. Her unnerving, unblinking glare drifted onto Estherfern.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Estherfern huffed, dropping the chicory root. Lightningrunner looked back to the deadly skullcaps.
"You should eat them," Lightningrunner said. Estherfern's claws instinctually slipped out. Her ears perked high, turning sideways, alert and ready.
"Say that again," Estherfern said. Lightningrunner's whiskers pushed back against her face. Her ears slowly turned backward, fighting not to go back. She looked at Estherfern once more. Her jaw quivered, searching for the path forward.
"You…" Lightningrunner gulped. She steadied herself, just as Shrewflame readied for Whitepaw's initial strike. "You should eat them. You, you should eat them, and you should die."
"I," Lightningrunner stammered, "You… Ugh! What sort of justice is it when a killer goes free?" Lightningrunner curled her lips.
"Again, Lightningrunner," Estherfern growled, "you're talking nonsense. Justice? What justice?"
"You know what justice!" Lightningrunner cried. Her voice rose so fast and violent that Estherfern jumped. Estherfern never jumped. "You know what you did! You summoned the spirits. You got my mom killed!" Ah. That justice.
"I was wondering if you would ask me about that someday," Estherfern sighed, smoothing her pelt. "I don't have good answers for you, Lightningrunner. I meddled with forces I thought I could control, and RippleClan suffered for it. I've done what I can to atone."
"No you haven't," Lightningrunner whined. "You got away with it because Foampaw died, but what about Silverpaw? What about my mom? Do you think there's anything you can do to make up for that? I never saw her body, Estherfern! She was my mom! You took her from me! I barely got to know her! Why do you get to be a mother when she didn’t get to be mine?" Estherfern had no clever retort to that. She dipped her head, but her eyes caught a flash of red in the trees. Shrewflame and Whitepaw slowly approached the arguing pair, ears cocked in confusion.
"I'm sorry, Lightningrunner," Estherfern sighed, straightening, "but I'm not killing myself for you."
"Yes, yes you are," Lightningrunner growled, tail curling, voice cracking. "Eat the mushrooms, or… or I'll just kill you myself!" Shrewflame and Whitepaw ran. Lightningrunner's eyes bounced, blind to all but her own vengeance. "Eat them! Eat them, you foxheart!"
Lightningrunner ran at Estherfern. Whitepaw, small Whitepaw, too-strong-for-his-age Whitepaw, launched past his brother and landed on Lightningrunner's neck, a tail-length from Estherfern. Whitepaw's fangs dug into her scruff, but no, it wasn't her scruff, his jaw wasn't in the right spot, it was her neck, her spine, Whitepaw let go right now—
Light sparked in Lightningrunner's eyes as a violent spasm took over her body. Blood splashed in Whitepaw's mouth. Lightningrunner's strength ebbed away. Her claws, tense and ready to strike, relaxed. She grew limp as leather underneath Whitepaw. Lightningrunner didn't even have time to whine before her life left her.
Whitepaw let go. Shrewflame stumbled upon the scene, his body begging to retreat. Estherfern stood over Lightningrunner's body. She no longer looked like a killer. She looked like a kit.
Whitepaw whined, a wordless, painful cry. He fell off Lightningrunner's body. He ran to Shrewflame, burying his bloody face in his brother's red fur.
"How…" Shrewflame gulped. "What… I don't…"
"I was trying to pull her off!" Whitepaw wailed, voice muffled in Shrewflame's pelt. "I didn't want her to hurt Ms. Estherfern! I didn't want to hurt her!"
"White, White, I know," Shrewflame cooed. He slowly wrapped himself around his weeping brother, hiding all traces of blood-stained white fur from the world. Whitepaw shook so hard that Shrewflame struggled to stay upright. "I know, I know. It was an accident. I know, White. You didn't mean it."
But would the Clan see it that way? Another dead Clanmate, killed, murdered. It had nothing to do with Potterypool, but would anyone believe them? Estherfern barely believed her own senses. An apprentice, barely a quarter moon into training, somehow landing a killing bite on a well-trained historian? Not just any historian, the little sister to one of RippleClan's most unified and beloved families, the daughter of Weedfoot, the Celestial of RippleClan Deputies. The three cats who stood before Lightningrunner's body were outsiders, welcomed into the safety of the shipwreck. Would any of them be allowed to remain after this? Who would believe Lightningrunner, of all cats, would suddenly try to kill Estherfern? Who would see Whitepaw's actions as justified?
No. Whitepaw and Shrewflame were barely out of kithood. They wouldn't suffer for a mess Estherfern caused. This was justice.
"Both of you, listen to me," Estherfern snapped. Shrewflame and Whitepaw snapped out of their shock for just a moment, looking up. Whitepaw looked pink with the blood on his lips. "I'm going to fix this. Nothing will happen to you, Whitepaw. Shrewflame, here, now." Shrewflame slipped himself out from around Whitepaw and crept closer to Lightningrunner's body. Estherfern studied the deadly wound. Even though Whitepaw was close to full-grown, it was clear that no adult cat bit into Lightningrunner. "Shrewflame, I need you to bite into Lightningrunner. You have to cover up Whitepaw's teethmarks."
"But—" Shrewflame stammered, gagging on the thought.
"Shrewflame, we are doing this to protect your brother," Estherfern growled. "Bite her neck, now."
Shrewflame's lips curled, almost prancing in his indecision. But then he looked back at Whitepaw, with wide eyes and his awful, bloody face. Shrewflame hardened. He squeezed his eyes tight and snapped his fangs around the back of Lightningrunner's neck. Estherfern tuned out the squish of flesh and bone.
"Now, both of you, to the ocean," Estherfern ordered as Shrewflame let go and hurried back to Whitepaw. "You're going to wash the blood out of your fur. Don't get out until it's all gone. Then you're going to run to camp and tell the codekeepers that Lightningrunner is dead." Whitepaw pressed against Shrewflame. "This is what happened. While you were swimming, Lightningrunner went to investigate a sound in the forest. When she didn't come back, we went to find her. We found her body. We don't know who did this. We were on the beach. We heard nothing."
"I killed her," Whitepaw whined.
"No you didn't," Estherfern growled, trying to soften her voice. "Not anymore. No one will know. You're not in trouble. You're my hero, Whitepaw, you did nothing wrong. Now go." Whitepaw moved toward Estherfern, but Shrewflame nudged him back. He shook his head, wide eyes glancing at Lightningrunner. He shoved Whitepaw back toward the beach. The two young toms scrambled out of sight.
Estherfern paced around Lightningrunner's body. She brushed the snow with her tail, removing nearby pawprints. No one would be able to tell which way the attacker came from, even if they questioned the patrol's story. With her tail coated in frost and the scene firmly scuffled, Estherfern sat at Lightningrunner's side, like a cleric mourning her charge.
"You stupid child," Estherfern moaned, lowering her head into Lightningrunner's pelt.
No one would know.
(Estherfern: 123, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
(Whitepaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, nervous, active imagination)
(Shrewflame: 13, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)
[Image ID: Estherfern says to Lemmy, "I don't want to ruin her legacy over a moment of weakness. Do you want the Clan to look at Whitepaw like a killer?" Halibutdusk, Scaleripple, and Oilstripe approach from the distance.]
---
At the end of the story, Lemmy could only sit and think it through. Honeybuzz and Estherfern stared at her, silent, squirming. The quarantine den seemed even colder now.
"No one would know," Lemmy muttered, staring at Estherfern. "Yet you told Honeybuzz."
"I have…" Honeybuzz groaned, "let's say experience with issues like these. Do you understand why we can't let the Clan know now?"
"Call me a hypocrite for this," Lemmy huffed, "but if Lightningrunner tried to kill you, Estherfern, wouldn't you want the Clan to know?" Estherfern bristled.
"None of it would have happened if I had not communed with Spirits of Shadow," the old cleric sighed. "Lightningrunner had the right to be mad at me. I don't want to ruin her legacy over a moment of weakness. Do you want the Clan to look at Whitepaw like a killer?"
Pawsteps broke the snow outside. It had gotten brighter in the time Estherfern spent telling her story. Now morning light burned against the trees beyond. Scaleripple, Halibutdusk, and Oilstripe stood outside, stone still. Time for the trial. Lemmy sighed and stood, squaring herself in front of her Clanmates' painful gaze.
"We need a little more time, please," Honeybuzz stammered, getting up and close to Lemmy's escorts. "We want this to be easy on the Clan. We're not done talking with Lemmy."
"I want her out of this camp," Scaleripple growled. Oilstripe cleared her throat, diverting Scaleripple's boiling blue hate away from Lemmy for a moment.
"The spirits in here are agitated," Oilstripe whispered, ears tilting back, ruffling the thick maple leaves stuck to her fur. "We don't want a long trial. If they can make her tell the truth now, the whole Clan won't have to hurt for long."
"I know," Oilstripe groaned, "but do you think they'd rather sit there all day or wait a bit longer and be done with all this before sunhigh?" Halibutdusk and Scaleripple both squirmed, but neither confronted their deputy. Oilstripe turned to Honeybuzz and said, "Lead her out into the clearing when you're finished here." Honeybuzz nodded as Oilstripe led Scaleripple and Halibutdusk back around the shipwreck.
"We don't have long, Lemmy," Estherfern sighed. "I know you don't see your actions as strictly right and wrong, so why see this differently? There's no crazed killer living in our Clan. Don't make them suffer more than they already are." Lemmy's neck itched under her collar. Her head ached. Was there any good decision here? Was this any different than Lemmy's own coverup? Did the truth deserve to come to light? Or would the truth hurt worse than the lie?
"If I say I killed both Potterypool and Lightningrunner," Lemmy said softly, "what then?"
"Unless something strange happens at the trial," Honeybuzz explained, "Downstar has promised to exile you. Just play along with Waspdawn's version of events." Exile… not much different from the life Lemmy knew before RippleClan, before the Witch Hunters. And it wasn't as though she would lack purpose. There were still threats to the cats she cared for, threats to her kits and mate. She would do more good alive than dead. Even if it meant never seeing her daughters again. Maybe they would understand, one day.
"Do one thing for me, in return," Lemmy said. "Take care of my family."
"You deserve that, at least," Honeybuzz sighed. "Thank you. Are you ready, then?" Lemmy slowly approached the edge of the quarantine den. She could smell the grief and rage wafting off her Clan, just around the corner. The sun burned the land in brilliant purple and red, yet no warmth pierced the snow that muffled all birdsong. The walls of the shipwreck burned with illusionary fire. A good final view of her home.
"Take me to my exile," Lemmy sighed.
(Lemmy: 66, female, exiled, cold, deep StarClan bond, good mediator)
(Honeybuzz: 38, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)
(Estherfern: 124, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
Carnationspeckle and Wildclaw fish together and work through their grief over Downstar.
[Image ID: Carnationspeckle and Wildclaw sit along the water, with - CONDITION: GRIEVING underneath them both. Carnationspeckle says, "It's a new era for us."]
(Wildclaw: 89, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
Yarrowclaw heals from her mangled leg with a small scar. As she returns to patrols, however, Estherfern and Gingerpaw ask to speak to her about a vision.
[Image ID: Gingerpaw brings Yarrowclaw to Estherfern, saying, "I brought her, just like you asked." Yarrowclaw now has a scar along her back ankle, with - CONDITION: MANGLED LEG written under her. Under Estherfern, it says + GUIDANCE FROM STARCLAN: THE SHIP OF YARROW (VISION)]
---
If Yarrowclaw wanted to avoid hallucinating her long dead brother and convincing herself she was StarClan's invulnerable warrior, she needed a routine.
Sandhollow helped her craft the routine shortly after the horse path incident. A patrol at sunhigh and sunset every day, without fail. A hearty serving at each meal. A strict sleep schedule. Talks with Sandhollow or another mediator every half moon, just to check in. All of those little details added up to maintain balance over Yarrowclaw's mind. Yet for moons, Yarrowclaw had been unable to follow that routine, because LynxClan decided to be mouse-brains and kill Downstar over a bunch of crabs.
Getting Honeybuzz's approval to go back on patrol was one of the best things to happen in Yarrowclaw's life. Sure, the wound across her back ankle scarred, a permanent reminder of how a small cut on the right spot could kill a warrior. But now Yarrowclaw could act on the burning in her blood and help her Clan. She could also get away from her brother's flirting in the medicine den. Good for Anchovystrike, finally winning Weevilsight over, but bleh, did they have to make comments like that in front of Yarrowclaw?
As a blistering sunhigh crawled over RippleClan, Yarrowclaw led a hunting patrol through the bramble-lined entrance. A basket, heavy with mice and rats, hung on Yarrowclaw's neck. The warm scent of dough mixed with the bloody fresh-kill under Yarrowclaw's muzzle and made her mouth water. She quickly placed the basket beside the fresh-kill pile and let Rapidleaf, Whiteflower, and Pearpaw (the other members of the patrol) sort their catches. Yarrowclaw jogged up to the oven, where Asterblaze and Shrewflame carefully watched as Icepaw shuffled a large flat rock out from above the fire. Flat chunks of golden bread sat on the rock, steam rising from their hard surfaces.
"When did we get flour?" Yarrowclaw asked, sniffing the hot bread as Icepaw let go of the large stick that allowed cats to slide the stone slab in and out of the oven, just for special meals like this.
"We traded some of our clams and seaweed with WheatClan," Asterblaze explained. "We're going to pour mincemeat over the bread. Stormjump and the elders get the first pieces, but then it goes to whoever asks first." Yarrowclaw eyed the glistening bread. Biting into it once the juice from the mincemeat soaked through? It would be glorious.
"This needs to cool," Shrewflame said, gently nosing a piece of bread, "but when it's done, you can take some."
"We're the ones making the bread, we should get a piece," Icepaw huffed. His tail brushed against the hot stone. He hissed and jumped back.
"We'll see, Icepaw," Shrewflame chuckled as Icepaw rapidly licked his burnt tail.
"Yarrowclaw!" Gingerpaw trotted out of the medicine den, maple seed necklace swinging across his chest. He squinted in the harsh, cloudless light.
"Gingerpaw, do you want some bread?" Icepaw asked. "Wait, it is still Gingerpaw, isn't it?" Oh, right! The half-moon meeting had been the night before.
"Oh, that's not true!" Shrewflame huffed. "You're just chatty! If everyone was held back for being chatty, I'd still be an apprentice." Icepaw and Asterblaze both laughed at that.
"I need Yarrowclaw," Gingerpaw sighed. "Can you come with me?" Back to the medicine den? Yarrowclaw just got out of there! Still, Gingerpaw wouldn't call for Yarrowclaw without reason. But the food…
Yarrowclaw forced herself away from the oven and joined Gingerpaw. Her pelt itched in the heat as the medicine den drew closer. Weevilsight, Honeybuzz, and Troutpool were by the cleric's oven, preparing their concoctions. Yarrowclaw's curiousity peeked over her hesitancy, but only for a moment.
Estherfern waited inside the medicine den, laid out in her nest. Her sunlit eyes studied Yarrowclaw with the same detached, all-knowing gaze Yarrowclaw grew up with. Yarrowclaw's nest was still there, still stinking of healing wounds.
"I brought her, just like you asked," Gingerpaw sighed. He stalked past Estherfern and crawled into his nest.
"You're going to participate, Gingerpaw," Estherfern huffed, spinning back and nipping Gingerpaw's foot. "This is a cleric's most important job. You can nap later." Gingerpaw grumbled unintelligibly but shuffled closer.
"What do you need from me, Estherfern?" Yarrowclaw asked, taking an awkward seat in front of the old cleric.
"I need to talk to you about something I saw at StarClan's Shrine," Estherfern explained carefully. "I believe it strongly relates to you." Now that was a dangerous thing to tell a cat like Yarrowclaw. She buried her tension deep. "When I dreamed at the Shrine last night, I received a visit from your mother. She provided me with a vision." Harvest… Yarrowclaw struggled to remember her face at times. Did her spirit visit the camp? What did she think of Yarrowclaw and her brothers?
"She showed us both the vision, technically," Gingerpaw chuckled. Estherfern smacked his muzzle with her tail.
"In this vision," Estherfern said, "I stood on a water-washed rock in the middle of the ocean. A violent storm raged around me. The waves nearly pushed me into the water. Yet as the storm grew more violent, something began to grow under my paws. A mass of vines and leaves stretched underneath me. It lifted me from the rock and above the chaos of the waves. It was a ship, just like this ship we now live in, back when the humans sent it to sea. But the ship was not made of wood. Growing between the plant matter were masses of white flowers. Yarrow flowers. The ship was built from the stems and leaves of impossibly strong yarrow. It carried me through the storm until land appeared on the horizon. Now I've grown familiar with how StarClan shares information through metaphor and symbolism. This ship of yarrow is a clear message. You were that ship, Yarrowclaw."
"No," Yarrowclaw immediately huffed. "No, no, I can't be involved in a prophecy." She hurried to her paws. Her muscles ached from restraining the storm inside.
"It's not something you have a choice about, Yarrowclaw," Estherfern sighed.
"StarClan can't pick me," Yarrowclaw snapped. "If they pick me, it will prove I'm right, and I'll get myself killed." Gingerpaw cocked his head at Yarrowclaw's odd phrasing, but Yarrowclaw barely noticed.
"Something's coming to RippleClan," Estherfern said, getting up. "You will be a sanctuary, a savior. You are destined to weather the storm, whatever it be."
"And you had to tell me that?" Yarrowclaw groaned. "What am I supposed to do with that?"
"It's not really what you're going to do," Gingerpaw explained awkwardly. "It's more what we're going to do about you. We wanted to let you know that we're going to talk to Oilstar about your duties. If you're a ship in this story, then whoever is on you, or I guess near you, should be safe from whatever's coming. So—"
"I'm not staying in camp," Yarrowclaw hissed, no longer afraid to hide her widening eyes and curling lips. "I can't stay in camp."
"You aren't trapped here," Estherfern grunted with a dismissive twitch of her whiskers. "But keeping you close to as many cats as possible could save lives."
"You don't even know what's going to happen!" Yarrowclaw yowled. "I—no, I can't have this conversation." She turned out of the den.
"Where are you going?" Estherfern snapped as Gingerpaw slunk back to his nest. "We need to talk to Oilstar."
"It's none of your concern!" Yarrowclaw growled, stepping back into the sun. Curious glances passed her way as she marched to the warrior's den. Hopefully Sandhollow would be inside. She needed someone sane to talk to.
You're special. You're chosen. Of course you're chosen. You can save them. You can save them all. You'll need to train, you have to be able to fight off what's coming, but what if it's not a fox or bear or wolf, what if its nature? You should go to StarClan's Shrine, you need to know more, go right now go go go go go—
No! Yarrowclaw growled at herself as she entered the warrior's den. Half the Clan was sleeping through the hot midday, relaxed in their nests and on top of one another. Yarrowclaw jumped into her nest, even though she knew she wouldn't sleep.
She couldn't be special. For her own sake, she could not be special. She wouldn't allow it.
(Yarrowclaw: 32, female, warrior, cold, fire master)
(Asterblaze: 44, male, caretaker, thoughtful, inventor and innovator)
(Shrewflame: 21, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)
(Estherfern: 131, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
Sandhollow wonders if he is destined for something greater as his sister gives birth to three kits.
[Image ID: Sandhollow and Yellowburst approach Stormjump and her three newborns from the distance, with Yellowburst calling, "Hurry, we have to meet them!" Under Stormjump, it says - CONDITION: PREGNANT, + CONDITION: RECOVERING FROM BIRTH. The first kit looks just like Honeybuzz, and under him, it reads NEW PLAYER: BEEKIT, 0, MALE, NOISY. The next kit is white with ginger patches. Under him, it says NEW PLAYER: PATCHKIT, 0, MALE, CHARMING. The last kit is golden with a blanket of tinted white across his forehead and back. Under him, it reads NEW PLAYER: MORNINGKIT, 0, MALE, BOSSY.]
Midnightpaw is apprenticed to Anchovystrike while Valleypaw gets to learn under Asterblaze to harness his excitement to fight. Before they head out, though, Wildclaw and Rattlepelt apologize for any neglect they may have felt in the nursery as they both fought their grief.
[Image ID: Rattlepelt and Wildclaw talk to Midnightpaw and Valleypaw, now apprentices. Under Midnightpaw, it says LEVEL UP! MIDNIGHTKIT → MIDNIGHTPAW, POLITE → OBLIVIOUS. Under Valleypaw, it says LEVEL UP! VALLEYKIT → VALLEYPAW, QUIET → STRICT. Rattlepelt says, "We just… don't want you to think we weren't utterly in love with you." Under her, it says - CONDITION: GRIEVING.]
(Wildclaw: 89, female, deputy, fierce, trusted advisor, good fighter)
Icepaw and Pearpaw meet their long-lost kin at the Gathering.
[Image ID: Icepaw and Pearpaw meet Nimblestep and Quickpaw, the latter of whom is now an apprentice. Pearpaw says, "So… how do we do this?"]
---
For a few days, Icepaw wasn't sure he would make it to his first Gathering. He'd been stuck in the medicine den, his head screaming to shut out the light and noise. Shrewflame did his best to continue his lessons, giving him the same overview of herbs that mediator and caretaker apprentices were expected to learn, but he couldn't join Shrewflame on patrol. He couldn't spar with Pearpaw and Dovepaw. All he could do was think about what his mother and sister would look like as the full moon drew closer and closer.
Yet, by the grace of StarClan or whatever Celestial watched over headaches, Icepaw still made it. He still got to walk alongside his fellow apprentices near the back of the crowd as they made their way to the Leader's Stone. The full moon glistened in the hot, cloudless night. Oilstar and Wildclaw proudly led the way, each eagerly discussing how to share their goods with the other four Clans. Baskets heavy with offerings from the sea dangled off warriors' necks. Pearpaw in particular had a basket of seashells, perfect for decoration. The seashells jingled together as Pearpaw walked alongside Icepaw and the pair listened to Dovepaw's rambling.
"Wolverineheart promised I could meet her friend Deerswipe tonight!" Dovepaw chirped, bouncing around the apprentices. "She's half-blind too. They spar together all the time! And now that SlugClan's not mad at us, Wolverineheart said she and Deerswipe can show me some tricks!"
"Was she part of the raid?" Icepaw muttered, unable to stop his hackles from rising.
"What raid?" Midnightpaw asked from behind the older apprentices. Valleypaw, who walked alongside his brother, kicked at Midnightpaw's feet.
"You know what raid!" Valleypaw huffed.
"No, because there's been two," Midnightpaw chirped innocently, stumbling back into a steady pace. "There was SlugClan breaching camp, and then there was LynxClan stealing our crabs."
"We're talking about a SlugClan warrior," Valleypaw groaned, rolling his eyes. "Why would we talk about LynxClan?"
"Midnightpaw's fine, Valley," Pearpaw huffed, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter if Deerswipe was part of that attack or not. We listen to our leaders, and we talk through what happened at the Gathering. That's what Clan life is like."
Icepaw relaxed at his sister's wise words, but something twisted in his chest. Yes, that was what Clan life was like. Yet none of them were technically ever meant to live that life. Dovepaw chose it, sure, but the other apprentices were less than a moon old when their mothers found them. They only had theories as to what happened with Midnightpaw and Valleypaw's birth mother. And for Icepaw and Pearpaw… well, their fate was decided for them before they were even born, by two mollies Icepaw never met. He could only hear secondary tales of Lemmy's motivations, and wonder why Potterypool agreed to murder his father. At least she felt bad about it afterward. Yet that did not stop the twisting in Icepaw's chest.
He recognized the great cliffside leading up to the Leader's Stone from Puddlewhisper's stories. He could see glimpses of the great bonfire through the distant shrubs. The hushed purrs of countless cats filled his ears. Oilstar and Wildclaw were already up and over by the time Icepaw and the other apprentices got close. Just before Icepaw could follow the rest of his Clan up, however, Scaleripple stepped in front of him.
"A few rules before you go up," Scaleripple said, his blue-feathered tail high. "Stay with us while the leaders give their announcements. We can socialize when they're done. Stay in the clearing. Be smart about what you share."
"Wolverineheart told me all that," Dovepaw huffed, cocking his head. "Why are you? You aren't our mentor."
"I'm a teacher now," Scaleripple said with a hint of pride in his purr. "I help apprentices. That's my job."
"Don't be rude, Dovepaw," Valleypaw huffed, gently smacking Dovepaw's side.
"I wasn't being rude, I was asking a question," Dovepaw said, earnest in his naivity.
"Let's go," Pearpaw said, weaving around Scaleripple and up the cliffside path. Icepaw was right on his sister's tail, heart racing as the voices above grew louder and louder.
It wasn't the size of the crowd that stunned Icepaw. He knew to expect more cats than he could count, with caretakers uncovering hidden cookware and constructing makeshift ovens and stoves. He knew each of the four leaders already on the Leader's Stone, from top to bottom: Eelstar, Gentlestar, Ospreystar, and Lettucestar. No, as Icepaw stared out across the crowd, he saw one cat in particular, sitting at the front of their Clan. It was a brown rosette covered tabby whose blue eyes caught in the firelight. She was thin, yet nimble in frame, sitting tall and tense, staring at the Leader's Stone. Icepaw couldn't explain how he knew with such certainty, but he knew. That was Nimblestep. That was his mother.
"Icepaw, let's sit near the front!" Midnightpaw called, charging past Icepaw. Icepaw stumbled forward, and the rest of his Clan pulled him through the crowd. By the times he got his bearings, he was close to the front of RippleClan, sitting beside Midnightpaw, Dovepaw, and Pearpaw, sans basket. Valleypaw lurked further into the crowd by Asterblaze. Icepaw searched for Nimblestep once more. Nimblestep's eyes sweeped RippleClan. She was looking for her kits.
"I want to give my Clan plenty of time to celebrate tonight," Oilstar called as she found her place on the bottom of the Leader's Stone. "Let's go through this moon's news quickly."
Icepaw struggled to focus as the other leaders gave their reports. Icepaw knew he should pay attention, Shrewflame would probably ask him questions later. But how could he pay attention when Nimblestep was so close by? Icepaw could barely sit still. Nimblestep was right there. He knew she would be, but to see her so soon, so suddenly…
The five Clans melted together faster than Icepaw expected. He hadn't even realized the leaders had finished delivering their news. Had the Clans cheered his name somewhere in all that noise? He couldn't tell.
"Icepaw." Oh thank StarClan, Paleseed was there. The gray speckled mediator brushed against her nephew, with Pearpaw lingering beside her. "Your birth mother is here. Do you want to meet her?"
"I already see her," Icepaw said as the SlugClan party merged with the rest of the Clans. Nimblestep swerved between cats, deftly navigating the chaotic reunions toward her own chaotic reunion. Her tail inched upward, ever hopeful. In Icepaw's eye, flashes of Puddlewhisper's blood still stained Nimblestep's mouth.
"I can stay with you while you meet her," Paleseed promised softly.
"No thank you," Pearpaw gulped. "I—We want to meet her alone." No! There was no "we" in that decision! Icepaw shook his head rapidly, but Paleseed merely touched noses with Pearpaw and dissolved into the crowd. She was gone before Icepaw could choke out a word.
"Pearpaw!" Icepaw whined.
"We shouldn't have someone else minding us for this," Pearpaw whispered as Nimblestep drew closer. "Nimblestep's our mother." Some mother, Icepaw thought.
"Is it you?" Nimblestep croaked as the crowd began to part and find places to share tongues. "Icepaw? Pearpaw?" Her voice quivered.
"Hi, Nimblestep," Pearpaw gulped. Icepaw didn't know whether to puff himself up and stand in front of his sister or allow his sister to take the lead. He stayed right next to Pearpaw, taking in Nimblestep's features. Pearpaw looked nothing like Nimblestep; the former was round and a bit short, while Nimblestep was tall and thin. Did Icepaw have his mother's angular face? Or did his features align more with his long-lost father?
"You're really here," Nimblestep purred. Her whiskers suddenly danced over Icepaw's pelt as she sniffed her lost son. Flashes of an event Icepaw could never have remembered overwhelmed his senses; teeth slipping off of his pelt, wood smacking into his skull, forever damaging the brain within. Icepaw's head throbbed in response.
"Hold on," Icepaw stammered, dancing away from Nimblestep. "Shouldn't Quickpaw be here?" Pearpaw's blue eyes (the only thing she shared with her birth mother) glistened at the thought of her unknown sister. Nimblestep's eyes glowed too.
"She's just with her mentor," Nimblestep eagerly explained. "She's going to be a mediator. This way, hurry." Nimblestep jogged through the crowd, but kept pausing to make sure Icepaw and Pearpaw were behind her. Both apprentices followed their birth mother, eyeing each other as they went.
Quickpaw sat with an older black tom among a gaggle of mediators from across the five Clans. Sandhollow and Slushtrail sat in their number, close to the young apprentice. Quickpaw looked exactly like Nimblestep. They shared the same brown fur and black markings. She had the spots to fill Nimblestep's rosettes. She was just as thin and clearly taller than Icepaw and Pearpaw. Yet her eyes were a rich dark brown, moving away from the family's pattern of blue.
When Quickpaw spotted her family through the crowd, she said something quickly to her mentor, who caught Nimblestep's eye. When Quickpaw's mentor nodded, the young brown molly bounded through her fellow mediators and straight to Nimblestep's side. Nimblestep nuzzled her daughter, purring deep. Quickpaw returned the gesture, stretching her head high to rub against her mother. Icepaw felt ill.
"You made it," Quickpaw gasped, oggling Icepaw and Pearpaw. She took in every detail of her littermates' pelts, but Icepaw could only look at Nimblestep. Her eyes shouldn't have been so relaxed, her pupils slit and calm. That was the look Puddlewhisper had when Icepaw became an apprentice. That was a mother's look.
Nimblestep did not deserve a mother's look.
"So…" Pearpaw gulped, "how do we do this?"
"I want to talk to Quickpaw," Icepaw blurted, louder than he intended. "Just Quickpaw. Uh, and Pearpaw too, I mean. Not Nimblestep. Later. Just… over here!" Icepaw spotted an empty spot on the far side of the clearing, beyond the Leader's Stone. Icepaw's claws dug up grass as he ran through the crowd. Whatever cries of shock his family gave, the sound of the Gathering covered it up.
Icepaw skidded to a stop beyond the chaos of the five Clans. When he glanced back, his racing heart eased. Pearpaw and Quickpaw were on their way. Nimblestep was lost within the crowd.
"What are you doing?" Pearpaw gasped as she and her lost sister neared their brother. "We can't just run away from Nimblestep like that! She's been dying to see us!" Yes, dying—like what happened to Downstar when SlugClan sent a whole patrol to steal Icepaw and Pearpaw from the only life they knew. Icepaw squeezed his eyes tight.
"Later, Pearpaw," Icepaw said through gritted teeth. "I can't do it now. I just can't." Icepaw finally looked up and locked eyes with Quickpaw. Did Nimblestep save her because they both looked the same? Would Icepaw be in her place if Quickpaw had been the one to slip out of Nimblestep's jaws that fateful day? Had Pearpaw even been considered for salvation?
"What would she have called us," Icepaw finally huffed, "if she got to keep us? She named you Quick. Who would we have been?"
"You would have been Sleek," Quickpaw said. She said it with such blunt sincerity that Icepaw snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. "Pearpaw, you would have been Silent. Quick, Sleek, and Silent." Hmm. Sleek. Icepaw had to admit, he didn't hate the name.
"I'm sorry, Icepaw's being rude," Pearpaw stammered, looping around Quickpaw. "I'm so happy I get to meet you. I've spent so long wondering what you would be like!"
"Me too," Quickpaw purred. She hesistated before Pearpaw, glancing at Icepaw all the while. Suddenly, Quickpaw dove into Pearpaw and rubbed against her shoulder. Pearpaw squealed at the sudden touch but did not recoil. A moment later, Pearpaw rubbed into her sister's neck with a noisy purr.
"Did Nimblestep tell you she attacked our mom?" Icepaw asked before his littermates could start sharing tongues and forget they were ever apart. "Puddlewhisper, I mean. She raised us. Nimblestep almost bit her tail off."
"My mentor, Crowtail, did," Quickpaw admitted, still purring as she moved back from Pearpaw. "He was there. Mom said she was sorry. She got overwhelmed."
"She still hurt our mom," Icepaw growled with a thrash of his tail. He pulled himself back, swallowing the bile climbing his throat. "But you… who are you? I mean, what are you like? I mean… I don't know what I mean." Icepaw kicked at the grass.
"I'm just… me," Quickpaw said, cocking her head slightly. "I don't really know how to describe myself. I like moss-ball. I like visiting the river, swimming is really fun. Uh… oh, don't tell Mom, but most of the time, when I need a break from her, I hide in this little nook in the roots of the Leader's Tree and sing to myself. I like singing."
"You hide from her?" Pearpaw repeated, taking a seat. "Why would you ever hide from your mom? Is she mean?"
"No!" Quickpaw stammered. "The opposite. She won't leave me alone sometimes. She always wants to know what I'm doing and if she can help. I couldn't wait to be an apprentice." Quickpaw glanced over her shoulder, as though Nimblestep would ignore Icepaw's wishes and storm into the conversation.
"Did she tell you how she left us?" Icepaw asked.
"In a way," Quickpaw groaned. "She told me she only managed to save me. Your meditators visited camp a few moons ago, and I bothered Sandhollow until he told me about you two." Quickpaw cocked her tail at Pearpaw and said, "You're always sticking close to Icepaw, and you get upset when something bad happens to a hero in stories."
"I want them to be happy," Pearpaw whined playfully.
"You love to stick your nose into everything," Quickpaw said, now pointing at Icepaw. "You're too smart for your own good, but you have a 'warrior's heart', whatever that means."
"Was Sandhollow complimenting us or insulting us?" Icepaw chuckled.
"You're also rude," Quickpaw pointed out. "Mom's always tried her best with me. You can at least see that she's trying."
"That's what I've been telling him!" Pearpaw huffed, making a face at Icepaw.
"She's not the one I want to get to know," Icepaw grunted. "She chose you, not us. Well, I want to choose you, and I want you to choose us. I want another sister."
"That's why I'm going to be a mediator!" Quickpaw chirped, ears perking. "I can make lots of excuses to see you!" Icepaw's ears perked up too. The twisting force in his chest unwound itself.
"Does SlugClan have any teachers?" Pearpaw asked. "Maybe Icepaw can get Shrewflame to help SlugClan with the new role!"
"We have one," Quickpaw hummed, "but I have a better idea. How do you feel about sneaking out of camp?"
"Quickpaw," Icepaw said with the seriousness of a battle-hardened warrior. "I have wanted to sneak out of camp since I was born."
"That doesn't make any sense," Quickpaw laughed, playfully flinging her paw at Icepaw.
"Wouldn't it be better to make sure the adults approve our visits?" Pearpaw gulped. "I don't want to make my mentor upset."
"The adults are why Mom never saw you before tonight," Quickpaw whispered, leaning in. "We're shouldn't have to wait until graduation before we can visit each other. We should have our own Gatherings!"
"We could meet where SlugClan, WheatClan, and AshClan meet," Icepaw purred, ideas sparking wildly. "We can meet on the new moon! That way we don't have to worry about missing the actual Gathering."
"It'll be fun, Pearpaw!" Quickpaw said, nudging the pale ginger molly. "Don't you want a sister?"
"I really do," Pearpaw groaned, one ear angling back. "Oh… alright, let's do it. The Littermates Gathering." Quickpaw and Icepaw cheered at the top of their lungs. Icepaw laughed at Quickpaw's cries, and Quickpaw laughed at Icepaw's laughter.
That was family, to him—choice. He wanted them, they wanted him, and none of them would let the others go.
Despite fighting his infection, Waspdawn puts the pieces together regarding recent events and confronts his culprit.
[Image ID: Waspdawn says to Oilstripe "Before we do anything, I need to talk to her. I need to understand. Can you be my backup, Oilstripe?"]
Potterypool killed Achilles. At least, she helped, if what Vervaincough and Venturedapple reported was true. It would explain the long brown fur found in her wounds. But Achilles could not have killed Potterypool or Lightningrunner. There was someone else involved. And as Waspdawn thought it through, the faceless spirit that haunted RippleClan over the course of an entire moon began to speak its name.
"I'm not sure you're well enough for this, Waspdawn," Oilstripe muttered as Waspdawn bit an itch just under his bandages. It hurt whenever the tip of his tail touched anything, and his fever came and went, but he still stood in the leader's den with Oilstripe, explaining his theory as night began to fall.
"It's a conversation," Waspdawn huffed. "If she puts up a fight, there are plenty of souls in camp to help me."
"We should just send Wolfgaze to fetch her," Oilstripe sighed, peering around Waspdawn and into the snowy camp. "She can freeze her and bring her for questioning."
"I need to be sure," Waspdawn grunted, moving back in front of his deputy. "Before we do anything, I need to talk to her. I need to understand. Can you be my backup, Oilstripe?" Oilstripe stared at something to Waspdawn's side. A spirit? He could only guess when Oilstripe's eyes wandered. If it was Potterypool or Lightningrunner's ghosts, maybe they could just confirm Waspdawn's accusations and they would all be done with it. But that wasn't how Oilstripe's powers worked, was it?
"She's on Downstar's hunting patrol," Oilstripe finally sighed. "It's nearly last light. They should be back soon. I'll let you have your confrontation, but I'm stepping in the moment she tries to run. Do you understand?" Waspdawn nodded deeply, chin touching his chest. Oilstripe sighed again, shaking out her inner fury.
The two cats left Downstar's den, eyes sharpening with the brilliant glow of the camp's bonfire. Oilstripe paced around the Shiprock, but Waspdawn lingered close to the nursery. Deep within the warm den, Puddlewhisper laid with her back to the world. Waspdawn could hear the gentle sniffles and shuffles of his new niece and nephew inside, hidden at his sister's belly. Barely a day together, and Puddlewhisper seemed perfectly content with the pair. Try as he might, the same warmth that filled his chest when Gingerpaw and Frostpaw were born simply wasn't there this time. These kits were meant for a different life, a life stolen from them by not just their selfish mother but by Potterypool and the culprit that would soon return home. Those kits deserved an answer to the question of their lives.
As the last creeping vines of sunlight snaked deeper into the forest and out of sight, Downstar entered the camp, a large fish in her jaws. Her fluffy pelt stuck up at odd angles, damp from saltwater. Oilstripe and Waspdawn jogged to meet her.
"Remind me to bring Drumtooth on more rafting patrols," Downstar purred, gently setting her salty catch down. "He's a natural diver." Drumtooth and Asterblaze, both as damp as their leader, whipped around Downstar, Oilstripe, and Waspdawn with their own catches, quickly placing them on the fresh-kill pile and racing for the bonfire. Downstar's good mood dimmed as the expressions on Oilstripe and Waspdawn's faces sunk in.
"I'll explain over here," Oilstripe muttered as the culprit crept between the thorns lining the camp entrance, her pelt perfectly dry, her yellow collar standing out like a sunbeam with the fire's glow. Waspdawn forced his eyes to soften as Oilstripe guided Downstar to the side of camp.
"Lemmy," Waspdawn said casually. "Good hunting?"
"You'll have to thank Drumtooth, not me," Lemmy sighed with a dismissive twitch of her whiskers. "I stayed on shore and made sure the raft didn't capsize." She moved as though about to walk past Waspdawn, but paused and stared closer at him. "You seem tense." Her own face dropped, ever so slightly. "Something happened to Mosspounce."
"No, no," Waspdawn stammered, quickly shaking his head. "No, Mosspounce is alright, he was sharing tongues with Washington when I last saw him." Lemmy's prickly fur relaxed. "No, I just wanted to talk to you, in private. Can we sit at the Resting Place?"
"If you need to," Lemmy hummed, stretching her back out. "Let's make this quick, though. I'm ready to sleep." Lemmy strolled back out of the camp. Waspdawn glanced at Oilstripe and Downstar. The former whispered in the latter's ear, relaying everything Waspdawn had told her. Downstar's mouth drooped open, ears twitching in tiny movements as she absorbed the truth of it all. Waspdawn left them to their revelation and followed Lemmy to the log outside of camp.
The Resting Place was covered in snow, but imprints of lounging cats marked its surface. Lemmy sat with her tail dangling off the log, waiting for her fellow codekeeper. Waspdawn jumped up and sat beside her. He grit his teeth when his tail rested against the decaying wood.
"Should you be out here with your tail?" Lemmy asked.
"Like you said, this will be quick," Waspdawn said, swallowing the pain. He settled his gaze on the dark sea. "We learned that Achilles is dead today. I don't think you've had a chance to hear." Lemmy flicked an ear.
"It's better for all of us that he's gone," Lemmy said. "I knew him well. You would never have convinced him you weren't a threat to the Other Side. He could have attacked us at any time."
"I won't deny that," Waspdawn said. "Do you want to know how he died, Lemmy?" Lemmy flicked an ear again. She matched Waspdawn's cold stare into the freezing ocean beyond. "A witness told us Potterypool killed him. Not alone, though. We didn't get to hear much else, but do you want to hear my theory?" Lemmy stayed still this time. Waspdawn shifted his gaze to the tortoiseshell killer. "I think Potterypool did kill Achilles. She killed him because you asked for her help. And then you killed her."
Lemmy said nothing. Her tail dusted snow off the Resting Place. A boreal owl hooted somewhere in the forest. The wind echoed in Waspdawn's ears. His tail was no longer his biggest source of pain.
"Here's what I think happened," Waspdawn said. "You were out of camp at the same time as Potterypool. You met along the river, likely by coincidence. At that time, you saw either Nimble or Achilles. If Venturedapple knew who Nimble was, I assume you'd know her from stories at least. Nimble built her kitting nest not far from the river, and she was close to her mate. It would make sense for both of them to make camp and hunt along the river. Regardless of which cat you saw, you decided it wasn't safe for the Clan to have Achilles at our border. Potterypool agreed. So you both crossed the river and hunted Achilles down.
"Potterypool took the brunt of Achilles' attacks, as her wounds tell us. Eventually, though, you both killed him. But Nimble was watching. I think Potterypool realized Nimble was pregnant and regretted taking a father from his kits. She was going to confess your shared murder, but you disagreed. You argued, and it escalated until Potterypool was dead at your paws." Waspdawn sneered as he talked. "You buried her in hopes no one would find out, and you cleaned yourself off before you returned to camp, as though nothing happened.
"But you still weren't safe. Lightningrunner was out of camp too. I think she saw something, likely the burial. She didn't realize what she saw until later, she may not have fully understood, even then. That's because I believe she spoke to you about it in private, and you knew you had to silence her. So you tracked her to Battle Beach and ambushed her when she was alone! Tell me I'm wrong, Lemmy!"
Lemmy didn't respond for a while. Waspdawn's claws poked through the snow.
"You're wrong," Lemmy said. Waspdawn held his breath. "I didn't kill Lightningrunner. I had no part in that. But Potterypool…" Lemmy sunk off the Resting Place. She sighed deeply. "I couldn't let Achilles hurt anyone else in RippleClan. He nearly killed your brother. His death was justified, but Potterypool didn't understand. It all went too far. I'm… sorry, Waspdawn."
"If you're sorry," Waspdawn growled, voice struggling not to spike, "then you'll come with me and face trial for both of their murders. You don't get to deny Lightningrunner's death. You can't hide your ruthlessness."
"You're an intelligent cat, Waspdawn," Lemmy huffed. "You figured out nearly everything that unfolded with Potterypool. But Lightningrunner? Your story is just that. A story. You have no proof she and I ever interacted."
"She had a conversation with Mosspounce, it stuck with her," Waspdawn snapped. "She realized what she saw."
"You're searching for an easy way out," Lemmy snapped back. "If I killed Lightningrunner, where was my scent? I was hunting that day. Do you think I found the time to catch a fish and kill Lightningrunner, all the while escaping her patrol?"
"If you're sorry for Potterypool's death," Waspdawn hissed, jumping off the Resting Place, "then why aren't you sorry for killing my sister?"
"Take me prisoner," Lemmy growled, sitting with her tail over her unseathed claws. "You found me out, and I won't run from it. I'll tell the truth. I'll take my punishment. I know what I did was wrong. I'll tell it all at my trial, whether you like what I have to say or not."
The moments after that blurred in Waspdawn's memory. Escorting Lemmy to the quarantine den, gathering her family, informing the codekeepers… it all happened in a flicker of light, the flap of a wing. Had Waspdawn done it? Had be outed the Clanmate who had his sister's blood on her paws?
Or was Lemmy, for the first time in a moon, telling the entire truth?
(Waspdawn: 56, male, codekeeper, strict, learner of lore, clue finder)
(Puddlewhisper: 56, trans female, codekeeper, righteous, keen eye, ghost sense)
(Downstar: 149, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)
(Lemmy: 66, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond, good mediator)
Honeybuzz and Estherfern ask Lemmy for a favor.
[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Estherfern approach Lemmy.]
---
Lemmy asked for no visitors. One of the few things she dared to ask of RippleClan now. What could she say to her mate, to her daughters and her friends? She would say it all at her trial and face her execution with dignity.
It had been a few days since the truth came out, at least what Waspdawn declared to be the truth. She had been caught, that was true, but Lightningrunner's blood did not stain her fangs. That murderer was still out there. She owed it to RippleClan to make them see that. For now, though, in the late night before her grand trial, she stayed under guard in the quarantine den, eyes closed, yet not asleep. Simply waiting.
Soft voices outside the den stirred her from her few thoughts. She opened one eye. Honeybuzz and Estherfern stood outside, speaking with Rapidleaf and Brightreed. Lemmy couldn't hear their words. She turned with her back to the newcomers, tucking her face into the worn moss of her prisoner's nest.
"How is this den so cold?" Honeybuzz asked, shivering as he and Estherfern entered the den. "We keep patients here! We can't let it get this chilly!"
"Focus," Estherfern huffed. Their pawsteps grew closer. Lemmy could feel their breath on her back.
"Is this some sort of death rite?" Lemmy sighed, giving into their presence. She sat up, her collar twisting against her neck. To her surprise, she could no longer see Rapidleaf and Brightreed's vague forms outside.
"You're not going to be executed," Honeybuzz insisted, sitting beside the damned molly's nest. "Downstar just brought it up because—"
"Because I won't admit to a murder I didn't commit," Lemmy huffed, lips curling. "My story will be the same at the trial. I am not Lightningrunner's killer."
"We're trying to help you, you stupid kit," Estherfern suddenly spat, matching Lemmy's expression.
"Do you care about justice or a simple solution?" Lemmy snapped. Her whiskers nearly touched Estherfern's as the two mollies growled at each other.
"You're not the only cat we're trying to help, Lemmy," Honeybuzz hissed, forcing himself between her and Estherfern. Estherfern huffed and sat in the remnants of an old nest. Honeybuzz's cicada wing necklace bounced against his chest as he settled back down. "Now, can you please listen to us? The rest of the Clan thinks we're here to help you clear your conscience. We know you didn't kill Lightningrunner, but we need you to admit to it anyway." Lemmy stared unblinking at Honeybuzz. Honeybuzz met her intensity and raised it, desperation mixed into his natural confidence.
"The Clan is in danger so long as her true killer is out there," Lemmy growled. "Lightningrunner was killed from behind, without mercy. Why would I protect them?"
"You don't know the full story," Estherfern muttered.
"The Clan thinks you're guilty now," Honeybuzz explained before Lemmy could probe Estherfern's ominous statement, "but if you insist on your innocence with Lightningrunner's death, eventually cats will start asking questions again. For the good of the Clan, we can't have them ask questions. It would shatter families. I don't want anyone else to go through what my family is feeling." While it was far from the first time guilt gripped her guts, a new regret itched inside of Lemmy. She stole Honeybuzz's sister from him, yet Honeybuzz didn't call for Lemmy's blood to stain the forest floor like Vervaincough and Halibutdusk had upon the reveal.
"Who killed her, then?" Lemmy asked softly. Honeybuzz glanced at Estherfern. The old brown cleric nodded. Then Honeybuzz said a name, the last name Lemmy could ever imagine tearing into the back of Lightningrunner's neck.
"Whitepaw."
(Lemmy: 66, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond, good mediator)
(Honeybuzz: 38, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)
(Estherfern: 124, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)
