#fogvalley

When Hyacinthclan had first come here, they had been small. Goldstar, Flintfur, Yellowlily, Jackdawnudge, and Skypelt had been their warriors, Plumsong their medicine cat, Ashpaw, Copsepaw, and Quietpaw the apprentinces, and Aphidkit the lone kit by the time they settled. No pressure had come from within the clan. It had come from the others, joking about how all the young cats had been toms save for Cospsespots, and teasing Quietback and Ashtalon about how they could have to fight for her affections.

Quietback had never been interested in Copsespots. And neither had Ashtalon, at first, until one day, there had been a green-leaf rain. No lightning, no thunder, just a downpour of warm rain. Most of the clan had hid in their dens, but Copsespots had bounded out into it, giddy as kit. Quietback and Ashtalon had been watching from their den, sharing tongues, and Ashtalon had gotten up, stepping out into the rain.

By that point, his friend had been a renowned warrior. Skilled, brave, powerful, and Quietback... Not so much. Ashtalon had saved his tail before, and he would save it again later.

But right then, that battle-ready warrior had been free and laughing, chasing Copsespots through the rain, and Quietback had known no one would ever need to question him why he hadn't chased Cospsespots at another Gathering again.

Even after the pair had begun courting and become mates, Quietback had never grown close with Copsespots, even if they had been apprentices together, even if she was his best friend's mate. He just... Couldn't.

But he hoped Copespots understood, and he sat down in front of Ashtalon's grave, sucking in a deep breath.

It had been a bit since he had been here. Often, it was too painful to come. It brought up memories and pain, and made Quietback's heart ache fiercely. He didn't know if anyone else visited any more. The younger cats couldn't remember bodies being buried, between there being so few dead clanmates and now needing to burn them. Amberleaf might have come, but he had been far too young to remember his littermates, and had never even known Copespots. And he probably hardly remembered Ashtalon; he had been barely three moons old at the time. Quietback wasn't sure if he remembered things other than foggy bits and scattered pieces from when he had been that young.

He wanted to ask Amberleaf, but he also didn't want to bring it up if it made the younger tom uncomfortable. If Amberleaf ever wanted to talk, Quietback would listen and share what he could. He had been there during those three moons while Ashtalon had fussed and cared for his son, worried that sickly, weak kit would join his mother and littermates.

He had known Ashtalon for a good chunk of their lives, when he had died, actually, and Copespots, too. Amberleaf had never asked and Quietback knew why, because he had been fussed over and most of the clan had treated him like he was incredibly precious, and some had compared him to his father.

He took a deep breath and felt his ears droop as he gazed at the marker, scuffing his paws on the soft moss

"It's... It's been a while, yeah? With the rainfall and patrols, I just haven't been able to find the time. But that's not excuse, not really, I guess." Quietback said, feeling terrible.

He hadn't even come on the night Amberleaf had been made a warrior. He had given the graves space, assuming that Amberleaf himself would want to come and thinking it would be best to give the young cat privacy, but he had no idea if he had come. And he had wanted to come, but he just felt... It was hard to come here, a lot of time.

"Your kit is a warrior now. All grown-up. He's on the short side, but he's strong. He's... He's a good cat. But the stars... Maybe they were kind to him, and maybe they weren't. I can't tell at this point." Quietback said, taking a deep breath.

He told Ashtalon about the warrior ceremony, Amberleaf not being able to die- which he had mentioned before but felt that he had some more info on now- and everything that had happened these past few moons. Well, not everything. But a lot of it.

He kept himself alert for any sign of rainfall, but there was none, and spent a long while talking to his dead friend. Part of him wondered if there was any point. Because if Starclan was so cut off from them or had abandoned them, could Ashtalon really hear him? Could he even see what was going on? Quietback couldn't help those thoughts from turning over and over in his head, and they made him sad and uncomfortable at the same time.

His head dropped down further and his claws slid into the moss, his breath shuddering in his chest, and he swallowed hard, feeling tears burn in his eyes.

"I miss you, Ashtalon." he said, three simple words.

But they were not so simple and were heavy, soaked like water-logged moss with more things than just simplicity. It felt like there was a hole in his chest, and there had been ever since he had seen his friend's body that terrible day.

He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about the blood or Amberkit crying pitifully in his mouth as he carried the kit back home, or how Skypelt had struggled under the weight of Ashtalon but insisted she could do it herself. But here he was, thinking about it, and he sobbed, other things flashing through his mind.

How Ashtalon had saved him time and time again. Just sitting around and talking, too. Training together, patrolling together, fighting alongisde each other. Big things and little things, and Quietback fought to get his sobs under control.

It took a lot of fighting, but he got it under control and swallowed hard. He was silent for a long while and he gazed at the grave, looked up at the sky, but... But it really didn't feel like Ashtalon was here. Or anywhere. He had always felt that way with Starclan, he supposed, and he had never really felt that deep of a connection with his warrior ancestors.

For most of his life before Hyacinthclan, the clans had been at war, and he had been a kit at the time. His mother had left the nursery sooner than most queens, and his father had died before he was born. Few kits had been born those last few moons, and Quietback had never gotten to form any truly deep bonds with his clanmates before the clan had fallen apart and almost everyone had been gone. He had never really looked up at the stars and felt that the dead were watching over them, though he could not deny that the Beach of Stars did have something different about it.

He was tempted to go to the Beach of Stars and curl up, see if he could feel Starclan or maybe even be visited by Ashtalon or Flintfur or someone else he had lost, but... That was dangerous now. The rainfalls, and it was so close to that place he had seen that... Thing. The thing they didn't know was a vision or not, whether it was still lurking in the waves or if was a warning from Starclan. His pelt prickled at the thought of it. So no, he would not go down there and sleep. He just had to have faith that Starclan was still there, and that even though he had sat here and told Ashtalon things, that his friend already knew.

Sniffing and wiping his face with his paw, Quietback glanced at the sky and decided it was time to head back to camp. He rose, saying nothing else, and left the graves as they were, his steps a bit heavier as he walked. But he couldn't shrug off his duties just because he was sad and in these times, they needed every paw they could get. Especially since they sent off two warriors to be Firewatchers for each shift, just as the other clans did, and they were a small clan. Every paw counted.

Civetbeak was sitting guard at the camp entrance when he returned and the younger warrior nodded to him, his injured leg stretched out awkwardly beside him, Quietback returning the nod. He walked through the entrance and into the clearing, letting his gaze sweep over it as he did.

It was just a normal day. Wasp's kits tussling under Stoneleaf's watchful eye, Lester's litter causing chaos in the clearing, just a moon away from being made apprentices, Tulippaw and Fogpaw were sharing tongues, Yellowlily was stretching, and most everyone else seemed to be on patrols. Amberleaf was sitting in the old tree as Rainwatcher, nestled in what shade the trunk could provide, watching the sky intently.

He looked a lot like Ashtalon, but not as much as he had when he was younger, Quietback thought. Now that he was grown, Amberleaf had come more into his own looks. There was the same broadness to the shoulders and some similar facial features, a similar color of the eye, but the rest came from his mother, or neither of his parents at all. Amberleaf was shorter than his father and his expressions harder, and he was a bit more solidly built than either his parents. Some of Cospespots grace had passed onto him and he had his father's fighting prowess already... And Quietback quickly shut those thoughts down.

Amberleaf was his own cat; Quietback didn't need to be comparing him to his parents and summing up all that he was that way. He knew he would hate that, if anyone had done that, and he had the feeling that Amberleaf had for many moons now.

He wished he was closer with Amberleaf sometimes. He felt as though he could have been helpful, could have done something for him, but he couldn't find it in himself to step up. So he did what he could from the position he had, and maybe Amberleaf appreciated it. Of course, the young cat held most everyone at a tail-length from himself, so maybe not.

As Quietback went to the fresh-kill pile and selected a mouse, a patrol returned, and he soon found himself settled down with Tumbledaisy and Buzzardglide. They wanted to ask him for advice, since he was an experienced mentor; they were giving Tulippaw and Fogpaw their assessments tomorrow. And if they passed, then the day after that, they would have their ceremonies. Quietback gave them what advice he could and ate his mouse, and he went on the evening patrol later in the day.

Civetbeak, Goldstar, and Yellowpaw came with him and they hunted, returning to camp to deposit their prey safely and wash off before the sun set. No one spoke to Quietback during the patrol, but they glanced at him, and he knew they noticed his mood. He did not want to talk about it and that was respected, which he appreciated.

They had just finished cleaning off when Amberleaf blew the conch.

"RAINFALL!" he yowled across the clearing, scrambling down from the tree.

Everyone scattered. They had practiced this many times now, and they were quick about it. Everyone was quickly in their dens or the nearest shelter, and this time, the warriors' den was nearly empty, everyone having gone to the elders' or the nursery, for the most part. Amberleaf was the last one in, even though the foolish cat could have gone in Goldstar's den, and it wasn't long after that the rainfall hit.

Nothing to do but wait it out, and Amberleaf shrugged the conch off, Skypelt coming to sit beside her son. Quietback watched, cringing inside as he did. Skypelt began to groom Amberleaf, smoothing its somewhat long tufts with even strokes of her tongue. It was a normal thing for a cat to do with their kit... If that kit was willing.

It was very clear to Quietback that Amberleaf was not. He flinched from Skypelt's touch and leaned away, but she paid no mind, and it made Quietback uncomfortable to watch. He knew Amberleaf hated being touched and touching noses or absolutely necessary touches were all that he normally tolerated. Skypelt always seemed so oblivious to it, and watching her groom a grown cat who was shrunk down like a little kit with his claws digging into a nest was hard.

It was clearly humiliating for Amberleaf and embarrassing for Skypelt not to notice, and Quietback shifted his paws, thinking of intervening, but he did not. He spent so long debating about it that Amberleaf beat him to it.

"I'm clean!" he said and got up, slinking to the back of the den.

The den was much larger than Hyacinthclan needed with its current number of warriors, so there was an empty space toward the rear that tended to be cold because of the stone, and Amberleaf had made his nest back there, away from the rest of them. He curled up in it with his back to them, tucking his tail over his nose, and Skypelt shook her head.

Did she really not see it? She was acting like Amberleaf was a kit saying he was too old for his mother, not that he physically recoiled when she groomed him. She went to the front of the den to watch the rainfall, which would be over soon enough, and Quietback sat beside her.

"Why do you do that?" he asked, keeping his voice low, ears twitching.

"Hmm? What do I do?" Skypelt asked, craning her neck to look at the sky.

"Groom Amberleaf." Quietback said, but he should have said it better.

"I'm his mother. I can still take care of him." Skypelt said with a shake of her head, but she at least kept quiet.

Quietback didn't want Amberleaf to overhear and be embarrassed.

"No, not... Why do you touch him? He hates it. Can't you see that? He doesn't like any cat touching him." Quietback asked, confused.

She was a sharp cat, a smart cat, so how could she be oblivious?

"I'm his mother, Quietback. Maybe I didn't birth him or nurse him, but I can still care for him. I can groom him or offer him a comforting touch. He's never said otherwise." Skypelt said earnestly.

Had the two of them already discussed it and Quietback was just butting in where he didn't belong? He felt a pang of guilt for that, but he could also believe that Amberleaf had never told Skypelt. She was a cat who expressed her affection with physical touch, often brushing the tip of her tail down a pelt or offering a shoulder or a lick.

"Skypelt-"

"Oh!" Skypelt exclaimed, pelt fluffing up in alarm.

Quietback followed her gaze and saw, in the distance, a round rainbow, and his own fur stood on end. They had come to learn that meant an Unseen was around. It would disappear with the rainfall, but it also told them that this particular band of rain was a large one, stretching far beyond their camp.

Amberleaf came to join them and grunted softly at the sight, and Quietback knew he was thinking of Flintfur. He flicked his tail instinctively to rest it over the young cat's, but caught himself at the last moment, curling it around his own paws firmly.

They watched the rainbow quietly, watched the ground for black prints, but none appeared. The rainfall cleared up, the rainbow vanished, the sky brilliant with sunset and clouds colored by it rather than the heavy gray the rainfalls brought.

By that time, Quietback's intended argument with Skypelt was forgotten, and when he remembered later that night, it would be too late to bring it up again.

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The warrior ceremony was just what the clan had needed. Not that it had been that long since Amberleaf's, but new warriors were always needed, and it gave some hope.

Quietback sat to the side with Skypelt, watching as Stoneleaf gave her kits some quick last-minute grooming, the siblings then approaching the front of the group to stand before Goldstar.

Tumbledaisy and Buzzardglide sat next to Stonleaf, shining with pride, and they deserved to be proud. They had done well training their apprentices, even with the way the world was these days, and they would make fine warriors.

Goldstar began the ceremony and it was the usual one, and she honored the two apprentices for their best traits, naming them Tulipscratch and Fogvalley.

Quietback cheered with the rest of the clan, yowling the names to the sky, and it was the perfect day for the ceremony, and, hopefully, there would be no rainfall to spoil it.

The clan lined up to congratulate the pair and touch noses with them, but Amberleaf did not touch noses with them, nor did he really say anything to Tulipscratch. Not that Quietback blamed him for that; Tulipscratch had a sharp tongue, and it was often wielded against Amberleaf. She had been sore and jealous of the clan treating Amberleaf like he was precious after Ashtalon had died, though Stoneleaf had treated all the kits fairly as she watched them in the nursery.

Quietback touched noses with the new worries, feeling proud of them, because while they might not have been his apprentices, they were his clanmates and he had watched them grow up. After all the congratulations were given, patrols were assigned, and the newer warriors, or at least some of them, all went out together. They let them have their fun, and of course Skypelt had done that on purpose. Quietback remembered being very excited to patrol together with Ashtalon once both of them were warriors, and it was nice to let the younger cats have that.

With everyone assigned to their patrols, Skypelt stretched in the clearing, and Quietback watched her. She was a beautiful cat, and his feelings for her had not diminshed over the moons. She had requested time, requested that before they talked about becoming mates he wait until Amberleaf was a warrior. Well, Amberleaf was a warrior, the clan was doing well, and Skypelt was settled in her role as deputy. Now seemed like a good time.

"Skypelt, would you like to come on a walk with me? I thought we could walk along the river." Quietback asked after approaching, swallowing.

The river was Skypelt's favorite place to walk, but taking a walk wasn't so simple anymore. You needed protection; well, it wasn't necessary and you could leave camp without it, but it was often better to be safe than sorry. Then again, there were plenty of places to shelter along the route, and both he and Skypelt decided to risk it.

It was foolish, most likely, but the tunnels and crevices hadn't changed with the rainfalls, at least, and they knew their home.

They went for the walk and it was a beautiful day, Quietback enjoying the closeness with Skypelt, hearing the birds and breeze and being able to pretend that nothing was wrong, that nothing was going to happen, that the world was normal. Pretending like that could be dangerous, but sometimes it was just a relief to do so.

They talked as they walked along the bank of the river, which was not overly loud or had too fast of a current, stepping stones conveniently dotting it every now and then. As they reached Skypelt's favorite spot, they sat down and admired their territory, and Quietback did his best to quell his nerves.

They sat in silence for a little while and Quietback shifted closer, flicking his tail over hers, and he opened his mouth to speak, but he never got a sound out.

A scream split the air and they both jumped, heads snapping upriver, and they saw the patrol of young warriors bursting from the woods, Quietback not understanding what was going on at first. Then he spotted Tulipscratch flailing in the river; the current wasn't too fast, but it was fast enough that if you didn't know how to swim, it was dangerous. Not all of the cats of Hyacinthclan, despite living close to the sea, knew how to swim; Tulipscratch had been scared to do so after seeing Amberkit fall into the water during their kithood.

That didn't stop her from fishing, though, and Quietback knew immediately that was what she must have been doing, her patrol emerging from the woods in confusion for a moment as she was swept away. She was struggling and doing it all wrong, and Quietback surveryed the water quickly, bunching up his muscles and diving in as she went under. Another splash followed and he clawed through the water, praying to Starclan that Tulipscratch came up, because he couldn't see her, her dark pelt blended in with the riverbed as he tried to dive and peer into the water.

He surfaced, looking around for her, and then Amberleaf surfaced, protection streaming off both young warriors in brown slicks on the river's surface. Quietback swam over and helped, Amberleaf getting to the shore, Quietback supporting Tulipscratch so the other cat could haul himself out. They got her out together and Quietback climbed out, Tulipscratch limp with water streaming off her pelt.

Amberleaf clearly didn't know what to do, but Quietback did, because he had done it for this cat when he had been a little kit. He began to rub Tulipscratch vigorously and she gasped, rolling onto her stomach and beginning to vomit up water. She hacked and gagged, Quietback continuing to rub her back, and when she stopped, she was shivering and coughing, but she was alive.

"Tulip! Oh, Tulip!" Fogvalley cried, darting by Amberleaf to shove his head against his littermate's.

She coughed and shivered again, rasping something Quietback didn't understand. He crouched down.

"Get her on my back; we need to get her back to camp as soon as possible." he said, though the stepping stones we're going to be tricky.

"We'll have to swim her back across, or you could both fall in." Amberleaf corrected, and he did have a point.

Though he didn't want to do it, there was no bridge for far too long, and even then, the Twoleg structure long disused and falling apart. Not close enough in the even of an emergency.

So swimming it was, and Amberleaf was very good at it. Quietback swam with them to assist, and they got Tulipscratch out and onto Quietback's back. They went back to camp, Skypelt ordering everyone but Fogvalley to continue the patrol, which Quietback thought was a tad harsh. They got Tulipscratch to the medicine cat den and he laid her down, Stoneleaf darting in, Jackdawnudge grumpily shooing Quietback and Skypelt out of the den.

They obeyed, Stoneleaf and Fogvalley sitting near the entrance, and there was nothing more they could do. Quietback let out a breath, glad that Tulipscratch as all right, and now was definitely not the time to bring up becoming mates to her. So instead, they parted ways, Quietback promising Stoneleaf he would watch the kits until the medicine cats were done.

He had never really watched kits before, let alone kits so separated in age, but it helped that the older ones seemed intimidated by him, and the younger ones were as sweet as honey.

He settled down, watching them, glancing toward the medicine cat den. Hopefully, Tulipscratch would be all right, but she had very nearly drowned. It happened all the time, but... Quietback wasn't ready to lose another clanmate. Not yet. So instead, he tried to focus on the kits he was watching, calling out tips as they spared, flicking his tail back and forth for the little ones.

Hopefully, one of the medicine cats would come out with good news. If not... Quietback did his best not to think of that.

3/28/2026-4/24/2026

Flower meanings:

Poppy- Fantastic extravegence, associated with soldiers, the latter being used here

Zinnia- I mourn your absence

Hyacinth (Purple)- Forgiveness