#fernstar

“Been a bit,” Mistface mumbled, voice deep and thick with sleep. He lifted his head, surprised that the sunlight wasn’t hurting his eyes. He realized a moment later that this was because the sun was not up – the sky had just started to turn pale in the north, stars still free to roam across the black night.

“Little early to be wakin’ us, don’t you think?” he remarked, as Greyleaf’s head, fur mussed, rose as well.

The Runagate kept their barely-there eyes on Mistface. I believe it to be vital that you continue your quest as soon as possible, for I have news.

All around them came the grumbles and hissing breaths of those shaken out of their sleep right as they were in the deepest part of it. Mistface waited for everyone to catch sight of the Runagate before he sat up and shook his pelt to wake himself up a little more. It barely worked.

“What’s wrong?” Redheart was the most alert by now, barring her eyes. That exhausted look never left them. “Has the patrol caught up to us?”

The Runagate glanced around, as if to assure themselves that everyone was up, before turning to the deputy. Not yet. They have no idea where you went. Whatever you did, they’ve been thrown off your trail.

Several sighs of relief.

It matters little. The Runagate slowly rotated to look at everyone. The Clan knows of you all. Any cat that sights you is to report to a patroller or to the leaders.

Now every breath was cut off before they could become gasps. Everyone exchanged worried looks, save Darkpelt, who simply grimaced.

“Is there any way we can go around any other warriors and avoid being caught?” Littlepaw asked nervously. “There has to be something.”

“If we can make it to the Machair, the path to the Lighthouse should be clear,” Laurelclaw said quickly. “It’s just- it’s just a question of making it.”

“Well, the Territory ends close to here, right?” Flyfang leaned her head forward a little to glance at everyone from where she sat. “There’s just the leaders’ dens, and then the walk to the coast. Right?”

“That’s the thing,” Redheart sighed. “We need to pass through those dens. And I have no idea what will be there, or where to go.”

Greyleaf cleared his throat. “I know the tunnels up there. I’ve got a general idea of the schedule and who will be around…but…”

“That may be altered with the search for us,” Mistface finished.

“Yeah.” Greyleaf nodded unhappily. “That’s the thing.”

The Runagate inclined their head in Greyleaf’s direction. You will have to go through the tunnels, I’m afraid. Everywhere else is guarded, or else there will be those that can stop you.

“And no one will try to stop us in the dens?” Darkpelt asked dryly.

The Runagate didn’t answer right away. Their faint eyes squinted a little, their nose raised in the air, like they were smelling something.

Finally, slowly, they said, There may be hope there. Help, even, perhaps.

“What do you mean?” Redheart peered at them, scrutinizing.

There was a disturbance there in these few past days. The Runagate’s words felt faintly enthused. I was not there to see it, but there is a loose root within the leaders and high deputies.

Littlepaw’s eyes widened. “Does someone know about StarClan there?”

I can only guess, the Runagate replied, but that astray feeling in me has not been wrong before.

Everyone looked at each other again, somehow pleasantly surprised and concerned at once.

Flee through the tunnels. The Runagate took a step back. I will be ahead of you. Any troubles you may face, you will know from me first.

“We appreciate it,” Redheart said quietly. She raised her chin and looked around the broken ring of cats. “Few cats will be up right now. We should go while we have some cover. Beetlefoot, can you lead us out of the woods?”

Beetlefoot immediately stood up, front paws together. “We don’t have far to go. The leaders’ dens are visible from the border.”

“Excellent.” Redheart got to her feet too. “Let’s head out.”

The Runagate dipped their head and was gone before anyone had time to blink.

“Final push,” Flyfang said to Littlepaw as Beetlefoot trotted off, leading everyone out of the clearing. “Then we’ll be out of the Territory. You still want to come?”

“I do,” Littlepaw said firmly. “I’m not leaving now or ever.”

Flyfang didn’t respond, but Mistface saw that nostalgic, distant fondness in her eyes. He privately wondered if this crew was going to get to collect Flyfang’s sisters after all.

Beetlefoot was right; the forest ended rather quickly, and they soon found themselves having to run across a wide cut of open and flat land, eight figures trying not to leave a trail in the dewy grass that had softened significantly from their last encounters with the stuff. No one seemed to be around, but not even Mistface was willing to slow down and check more thoroughly.

The leaders’ dens were all underground, everyone knew that. What wasn’t as well known was the fact that a sea of brush and bramble stood guard over the area, twisting into small mazes or just serving as a hostile hedge that could not be crossed. The cats really didn’t have a choice but to go underground if they wanted to escape notice – it was impossible to get past the brambles and go straight forward.

It was entirely silent, save for a small breeze shifting a leave or two in the plants. That did not make Mistface feel any more confident.

“This way,” Greyleaf whispered, and led the crew past a few holes into the earth, turning around a right corner formed by thorns and sharp leaves. Everyone followed single-file, with Redheart and Mistface closest behind him. Several more turns were made before Greyleaf paused in front of what looked to be a den entrance. Oddly, the brambles seemed to be pulled back by vines themselves instead of the throughway being hollowed out from the hedge. Mistface didn’t have a moment to inspect before his brother started off again, moving through the entrance.

They stepped into a wide space, walled like the stone houses in the Clast settlement, but instead made of the foliage they had been passing through. That was the uninteresting part. What got Mistface’s attention was that, in this huge space, many plants with flowers or colored stems or even just brush with cobwebs all over them were growing in perfectly straight rows. Each plant was immaculately fresh, and the ground around some of them was dark with moisture. Mistface looked up and saw some of the entrance-bordering vines spread out along a leafy wall, and even their flowers and berries were perfect.

“This is the garden,” Greyleaf whispered before anyone could ask. “They plant herbs here specifically for the leaders’ use. That way, I don’t have to go far to get medicine.”

Mistface had heard bits and pieces about the garden before from his brother, but seeing it in practice lit his mind up. “It’s a marvel that no one else’s thought of this before.”

“Well, the Loopers supposedly cultivate some mint varieties.” Greyleaf made a face. “I doubt it’s for medicinal purposes, though.”

Mistface’s eyes rolled immediately.

“Who are Loopers?” Littlepaw whispered.

“No one special,” Darkpelt muttered, and even she sounded annoyed. “Just some losers that-“

Something rustled over the wall. Everyone froze.

Darkpelt sniffed the air, ears perked. After a long, long moment, she whispered, “We’re alone.”

“Good. Now, where’s…” Greyleaf trotted up to a batch of bright orange poppies and ducked his head down, pawing at a small hole just behind the row of flowers. “Mistface, get a big leaf. I want to take some of these seeds with us.”

“What for?” Laurelclaw asked as Mistface obeyed his brother, looking for the broadest leaf he could find.

“Poppy seeds help induce sleep.” Greyleaf pawed out some very tiny dark seeds. “I figure we can all fall asleep at the same time if we take some at the Lighthouse.”

“Then we’re all in it together,” Darkpelt said. “Not a bad idea.”

Mistface found a broad leaf and pulled it off of the plant it was on (he had no idea what it was called, but it was quite fresh-smelling). He brought it to his brother, who took it with a “thank you”. The rather sizeable pile of poppy seeds were then pawed onto the leaf, which Greyleaf rolled up carefully and folded over.

“We’ll have to be careful not to drop this,” he said. “This is a pretty valuable supply I just took.”

“I can carry it,” Beetlefoot offered.

Greyleaf blinked in surprise. “Well…sure, if you can remember not to talk with this in your mouth.”

“Won’t be hard,” Beetlefoot muttered, and met Greyleaf halfway. He took the bundle, about the size of a bird’s egg, and nodded firmly. With that, Greyleaf turned and started through another entrance on the far side of the wall left to where they had come from. They all went after him, Beetlefoot taking up the rear.

Abruptly, their path sloped downward, and they found themselves underground, winding through turns and broad hollows that Greyleaf clearly knew by heart, with how easily he turned left or right without slowing down. It wasn’t as dark as it could have been, oddly enough – there were small holes in the ceiling everywhere to let in light. Mistface glanced up at every hole they passed under, curious.

“What do they do about these holes when it rains?” he asked Greyleaf.

“Usually they get covered up with leaves,” Greyleaf said quietly. “There’s a fig tree above ground right above here, and its-“

He stopped in his tracks. Redheart nearly bumped into him before freezing as well. Mistface had to peer over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. When he did, his chest went cold.

Sitting in a broad, hollowed-out chamber just ahead of them was the small ginger leader of the Clast, Fernstar.

Everyone went completely still. They were still in a tunnel. Mistface’s eyes darted around, searching for a way to escape before they were noticed.

“I see you,” Fernstar murmured, and yet her voice seemed to ring in the chamber. “Come in.”

Hesitantly, all glancing at each other, the renegades filed in, sticking in a close cluster, even in the open space. Greyleaf was bristling hard, his tail shaking.

When a long moment of silence had passed, Redheart swallowed and took a step forward. “Fernstar, I know what you must have heard, but… please, you need to let us pass unnoticed. We’re on a mission.”

Fernstar wasn’t looking directly at her; her gaze roamed over the collected cats with half-closed eyes, as if lost in thought.

Redheart tried again. “I can’t explain to you what we’re doing – it won’t make any sense to you – but trust me, it’s more vital than you could possibly imagine.”

“And trust me,” Greyleaf said, voice low and intense, “we’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish it.”

Mistface stared at his brother. He wasn’t planning on threatening a leader to get by, was he?

Fernstar’s eyes finally focused as they settled on Greyleaf. “I heard about your troubles.”

Greyleaf squinted at her.

“You saw something,” she continued. She briefly glanced down at the floor, her voice even more quiet. “And perhaps I’ve seen it too.”

Greyleaf’s eyes widened immediately. He and Redheart looked at each other in disbelief.

“What’d you see?” Mistface ventured to ask.

Fernstar took in a long, deep breath, then let it out. She looked deeply troubled. “Something that has me considering what I know and what I think I know.”

Everyone was silent, waiting. Not even a breath was drawn.

Fernstar tilted her head a little, regarding Redheart with something like fondness, if fondness could be so melancholy.

“Go,” she said, and stood up. “No one else is awake. Whatever you’re doing, now’s your chance to make it happen.”

Redheart shakily sighed with relief, and moved forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with Fernstar. She bowed her head, murmuring, “Thank you. If we succeed, you’ll understand.”

Fernstar touched her nose between Redheart’s ears. “I expect a thorough explanation when you’re done.”

“You’ll get that and more,” Greyleaf said. “I can promise you that.”

Fernstar seemed to analyze him for a moment, before moving to the wall and sitting down, facing the renegades. “You’d do best to hurry.”

Redheart looked to Greyleaf, then to the others. They all nodded. Greyleaf’s claws flexed for just an instant before he started off again. He crossed the chamber and went into another tunnel. As everyone went along, passing Fernstar, they all dipped their heads respectfully. Even Darkpelt seemed to know now was not the time to be cheeky. She just let Laurelclaw lead her along with his tail, her own tail tapping the ground as they went.

It was silent, the walk through the rest of the tunnels, and quite tense. Mistface thought it felt…appropriate. Dramatically appropriate, in a way, like heroes sneaking around a sleeping monster.

Which, really, was sort of what they were doing.