#gorgestar

Even though spring had officially arrived, snow still covered RippleClan camp as the Clan gathered under the Shiprock. It stood out like paint on gray stone in the dark of late dusk. It dampened the cheers that reverberated around the clearing, capturing the new names of the two toms standing beside Downstar.

"Brightreed! Sandhollow! Brightreed! Sandhollow!"

Sandhollow politely licked Downstar's shoulder and stood tall beside her while his family and friends cheered him on. Spikecrash preened beside her mother, her proud gaze warming Sandhollow's pelt. While Yellowburst was stuck in quarantine, Waspdawn and Stormjump still cheered Sandhollow on, tails high. Bandages still wrapped around Brightreed's shoulders, covering the hunting dog's vicious bite, but he was more than healthy enough to stand before the Clan and accept his name.

"Alright, Brightreed," Wolverineheart laughed, charging out of the crowd and nudging her brother. "Time for your vigil! We suffered, now you suffer!" Brightreed glanced back at Sandhollow while Wolverineheart led him to the camp entrance. Ha! Like Sandhollow would do anything to help him out. He was a mediator. He had no vigil to attend. Sandhollow stood even taller as the newly named warrior left camp.

"Enjoy the warrior's den, Sandhollow," Downstar declared with a deep nod. She slunk into the crowd, which now faded out to finish the day and prepare the Clan to nest. Cats touched noses with Sandhollow, passing along their personal congratulations as they returned to their business. Waspdawn and Stormjump squirmed through the crowd.

"We built your nest next to Yellowburst and I," Stormjump chirped, rubbing against her brother. "I think Spikecrash and Slushtrail worked on your gift. Let's see what they made!"

"Tomorrow, we'll do something fun together," Waspdawn promised, touching his son's forehead. "Whatever you'd like. Consider it a father and son day."

"Alright, Dad," Sandhollow purred. "I love you!" Sandhollow waved his tail goodbye and headed for the warrior's den, Stormjump stuck to his side.

"We're stuck against the rock wall," Stormjump explained as Sandhollow peered inside. It still felt like he was doing something forbidden as his paws found empty spaces between the thick, well-loved nests. His memories found him back in the apprentice's den, setting up his new nest surrounded by the other apprentices, trying not to let his kithood crush on Thundergale show. Speaking of Thundergale, she and Clammask tidied an untouched nest further back along the rock wall. Brightreed's nest, no doubt.

Stormjump tilted her brother's head toward his new nest. Duck down peeked from the curling moss. A small clay rattle sat like an egg in a bird's nest. Sandhollow purred and picked the rattle up. Sand shifted inside. It sounded like the ocean. He chuckled and placed the rattle at the edge of his nest. He settled into the down and moss and gently batted the rattle between his paws.

"I have to fix the clerics' oven," Stormjump said, drooping as she glanced outside. "One of the stones cracked, and Oilstripe assigned me to find a solution before I go to sleep. Sorry we can't lounge around for a while, Sandhollow! Enjoy the new nest, though. I'm glad you're with us." Sandhollow bid his sister farewell with a soft flick of his tail. The rolling sand inside the rattle soothed the joy smashing through his blood. He purred and scooted deeper into the nest.

As Thundergale and Clammask finished with Brightreed's nest and left the den, Sandhollow found himself almost entirely alone. For a moment, the den didn't seem like the warrior's den. It felt more like the apprentice's den had over the last moon, with Brightreed in the medicine den and Cobaltpaw and Lightningpaw busy with patrols. Luckily, he was almost alone, not entirely. Yarrowclaw laid in her nest near the far back of the den, facing the wall.

"Yarrowclaw," Sandhollow called. "You missed my ceremony! I'm Sandhollow now."

"Good for you," Yarrowclaw yawned, rolling over. Her dead eye stared blankly at Sandhollow, her good eye pressed into the moss.

"I'm not very tired yet," Sandhollow admitted, giving his gift another playful smack. "Want to share tongues for a bit?" Yarrowclaw purred. A flick of her ear invited Sandhollow closer. The newly named mediator crept around his Clanmates' nests. He had to sit in Anchovystrike's nest in order to groom Yarrowclaw. Yarrowclaw sat up with a soft groan and moved closer to Sandhollow. Sandhollow raked his tongue along Yarrowclaw's coarse pelt. Sandhollow's tongue caught tangle after tangle, easing them straight with a few focused licks.

"Too busy to clean yourself lately?" Sandhollow hummed as Yarrowclaw bit an itch on her leg.

"I guess so," Yarrowclaw huffed. "I went on a lot of patrols."

"Avoiding Currentsmoke?" Sandhollow guessed. Yarrowclaw's brother hadn't left the medicine den since Yarrowclaw brought Currentsmoke into camp a few days prior, face crunched and bleeding. Yarrowclaw groomed Sandhollow's shoulder rather than answer. "We have four clerics looking after him. If there's any chance he might survive, he'll survive."

"Truthfully, Sandhollow?" Yarrowclaw grunted as she groomed. "That entire day is a blur. Lately, I've gone on so many patrols, the days started blending into one another."

"No wonder you're so tired," Sandhollow chuckled. "You're probably exhausted. You're not the only warrior in the Clan, though."

"I know that," Yarrowclaw huffed, pulling back. "It's just hard to sit still lately. I wake up, and there's so much I need to do."

"If you need time to rest," Sandhollow reminded her, puffing his chest out a bit, "I am a mediator now. I can tell Downstar and Oilstripe to let you off patrols for a couple of days. Considering how much you've done lately, I don't think they'll mind."

"I think I need that," Yarrowclaw admitted, laying back down. "StarClan, for a while there, it felt like I could do anything. I think Anchovystrike was right. I am too much of an overachiever."

"I'm the same way," Sandhollow promised, touching noses with Yarrowclaw. "Tomorrow, you should join me in the nursery! Splashtuft and I are telling this grand story about Clan history to Shrewkit, help him decide what he wants to train as. You're welcome to sit and listen."

"If I fall asleep, don't blame me," Yarrowclaw scoffed.

"Considering Shrewkit's attention span?" Sandhollow laughed. "I don't think you'll be alone in that."

(Sandhollow: 12, male, mediator, ambitious, lore keeper)

(Brightreed: 13, male, warrior, righteous, student of art)

(Downstar: 140, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Wolverineheart: 13, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Stormjump: 12, female, caretaker, charismatic, incredible cook)

(Yarrowclaw: 16, female, warrior, cold, talented fire-starter)

RippleClan, WheatClan, AshClan, and LynxClan discuss SlugClan.

[Image ID: Downstar meets with Ospreystar, Gentlestar, and Eelstar.]

---

WheatClan agreed to escort Downstar and her entourage through WheatClan territory rather than along the border with SlugClan. It simply wasn't safe, especially with a group their size. Downstar picked Wolverineheart, Thundergale, Lemmy, Splashtuft, and Lavendertwist to accompany her to her meeting at the Leader's Stone. With SlugClan's recent behavior, a patrol that size could have been considered a war party.

Downstar's patrol met with Gentlestar and her warriors at the border. The two groups melded together, with both leaders at the front. Spring frost melted under their paws as they crossed through WheatClan's more open land. Sunhigh slowed their progress as everyone ached for their nests, but a tiring time like that was perfect for such a secretive meeting. The warriors muttered amongst themselves, sharing recent news about SlugClan.

"Weevilsight's tail looks awful. How could they do that to a cleric?"

"Who knows what's going through Gorgestar's mind lately."

"He's so apologetic after attacking Honeybuzz and Venturedapple, but doesn't even bother to show up to the Gathering after Weevilsight's attack? I thought Gorgestar was supposed to be a kind leader."

"He's the oldest leader now. Maybe age has changed him."

"My mother became a different cat after she became an elder. By the time she died, I barely recognized her."

"So what, he's old so now he's evil?"

"That's an oversimplification. Gorgestar could have a reason for changing his border policy."

"That doesn't excuse attacking two clerics."

"I know that! Don't act like RippleClan's the only one they've been aggressive towards. Try sharing a border with them. We've gotten into, what, three border skirmishes with them in the last two moons? That's not to mention all the encounters that didn't end with fangs flying."

"All of you, that's enough," Gentlestar called back to the two patrols. "We're working together, not against each other. I don't want to hear another word until we're at the Leader's Stone."

"Yes, Gentlestar," the WheatClan patrol muttered, bowing their heads.

"That applies to RippleClan as well," Downstar noted. Lavendertwist groaned. but Lemmy smacked the back of his head and shut him up.

The path to the Leader's Stone was easier in WheatClan territory. With fewer trees to navigate around and less threat of catching your paw in some muddy crevice, the two Clans arrived faster than Downstar had ever managed on a typical trip to the Leader's Stone. Even when she was in SlugClan, it took a Gathering patrol longer to reach the festivities.

The Leader's Stone seemed harsh and dull in the light bursting through the thin, hazy clouds. Without the usual light of a fire or the joyful chatter of celebrating warriors, the entire clearing had an air of mourning to it. Unsurprisingly, LynxClan was already there when WheatClan and RippleClan arrived. Ospreystar paced around the Leader's Stone. Bandages wrapped around his front leg.

"Ospreystar," Downstar called. Ospreystar pulled himself from his thoughts. He and his entourage focused on the arriving patrol. Downstar and Gentlestar joined the youngest leader by the Leader's Stone. "What happened to your leg?"

"A bite from an eager SlugClan apprentice," Ospreystar sighed, showing off his wound. "Their mentor insisted they didn't know who they were attacking, but I don't think I believe them."

"This is getting ridiculous," Gentlestar huffed, shaking her head. "We have our conflicts, but border aggression typically makes sense. We see the reasons demonstrated at Gatherings. But we're getting conflicting reports from Gorgestar and his warriors."

"We'll figure out a solution," Downstar promised, climbing onto the Leader's Stone. "We've brought along some of our smartest historians and codekeepers. We should find the best way forward if we all discuss the situation."

"Speaking of historians and codekeepers," Ospreystar said, glancing back at Downstar's entourage, "those two are neither, if I recall." Wolverineheart and Thundergale sat with two LynxClan codekeepers, with Wolverineheart signing for her sister.

"I told you about Thundergale at the last Gathering, remember?" Downstar sighed. "Thundergale is experimenting with a new role devoted to teaching her Clanmates. I wanted her to come along and understand the advisory aspect of the historian role. Wolverineheart offered to accompany her and interpret our conversation, as Thundergale is partially deaf."

"Yes, the 'teacher' role, as you call it," Gentlestar hummed. "If you believe Thundergale could add something to our conversation, I'm happy to have her. I'm curious how this experiment will go."

"So am I," Ospreystar sighed, "but let's get back to the topic of the day."

"I hope you weren't planning to start without me!" Eelstar marched into the clearing, furless paws shining with melted frost. His patrol of codekeepers and historians followed behind, heads held high.

"Just getting our bearings, Eelstar," Downstar promised her gray-furred counterpart. "Did you have any trouble on your way here?"

"We followed the river around SlugClan and down along the LynxClan border," Eelstar explained. "Gorgestar shouldn't find out we passed through."

"Then let's begin," Downstar sighed. She flicked her tail high and called, "You all know why we're here. SlugClan's recent unchecked aggression along their borders has resulted in unfair attacks on all four of our Clans. SlugClan warriors have attacked two of my clerics, one of them on the night of the half moon meeting."

"SlugClan's not getting away with attacking my brother!" Splashtuft yowled. The codekeepers around him hissed, silencing his fervor.

"No, no they will not," Downstar declared. "SlugClan's recent behavior will not go unchecked, for the good of us all." Downstar jumped off the Leader's Stone and sat among her fellow leaders. "Now let's figure out the best way to confront Gorgestar and stop this madness before it kills someone."

(Downstar: 140, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Lavendertwist: 47, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

(Lemmy: 57, female, codekeeper, cold, deep StarClan bond, good mediator)

(Wolverineheart: 13, female, warrior, troublesome, student of science)

(Thundergale: 13, female, teacher, adventurous, great hunter, good speaker)

(Splashtuft: 29, male, historian, adventurous, fast runner, student of art)

The four Clans send a war patrol to SlugClan.

[Image ID: Downstar and Puddlewhisper approach Gorgestar, who says "Downdapple, there you are." Under Puddlewhisper, it reads LEVEL UP! NATURAL INTUITION → KEEN EYE.]

---

Downstar won the right to lead the war patrol. Sure, the other three Clans had their fair share of skirmishes with SlugClan, but none had been as insulted as RippleClan. SlugClan's attacks against two clerics could not go unanswered. Downstar picked her most trusted codekeepers and warriors (Puddlewhisper, Waspdawn, Rapidleaf, Halibutdusk, Scaleripple, and Leathermask) and set off for SlugClan two days after the secret meeting.

They chose the dead of night for their assault. The chosen warriors could better ration their energy throughout the day, and there would be a few less warriors in SlugClan's camp upon arrival. Winter's chill still dug its claws into the land, frost coating everything living in a cocoon. It was the work of an Autumnfrost, those new spirits born of Autumnstar's Shardlings, Downstar was certain of it. They were mocking Downstar, rejoicing in her newfound warlust. What they didn't know was that there was no lust for war in Downstar's heart. Necessity drove her paws through the frost that night.

When Downstar stepped across the SlugClan border, she stepped across time. The weight of dozens of moons faded like snow melting across the territories. For a moment, she was Downdapple, a young caretaker, exploring her home with Fennelspot at her side, pulled into whatever hijinks Downdapple had planned for the day. A youthful vigor stirred her muscles as the smell of her kithood home filled her senses. Yet a wave consumed Downstar's nostalgia with a sickening reminder; she would be leading a war patrol into SlugClan's camp, the place she had been born, where she held vigil for her mother, her father, her littermates. She prayed their spirits would forgive her.

"I can smell AshClan's patrol," Puddlewhisper noted as they trailed along the SlugClan border. "They'll be at the meeting place before us." Downstar nodded, her thoughts too focused on the past to fully take in Puddlewhisper's report.

The four Clans decided to meet in a large dip along the SlugClan border. More than a few cats found themselves tumbling into the dip on their way to Gatherings, so everyone would know of it. Warriors from WheatClan, AshClan, and LynxClan were already waiting for RippleClan within the dip. It was a sizable group, able to match SlugClan's numbers. Oh StarClan, why was this the solution? The RippleClan war patrol merged with the other Clans as Downstar stood at the lip of the dip.

"Your leaders have all agreed," Downstar said, voice low and caught within the dip, "that for tonight, for this mission, you are to treat me as your leader, regardless of your Clan. As such, I expect everyone to follow my commands. Under no circumstance is any warrior to target the nursery. You'll answer to me if any harm comes to a kit during this attack. Allow noncombatants to leave camp freely, we are not taking prisoners."

"They attacked your clerics," an AshClan warrior hissed. "They attacked one of our artisans. Why shouldn't we attack theirs?"

"Because we are following the code," Downstar snapped, fur bristling. "Our four Clans have allied with each other because SlugClan's behavior has broken our code again and again. We are not going to return codebreaking with codebreaking. We are going to find Gorgestar and force him to Warriors… follow me." Downstar marched past the SlugClan border and deep into the territory itself. The war patrol climbed out of the dip and slunk after her, each Clan putting their unique training to use.

Still water pooled throughout SlugClan territory; leftovers from spring showers and runoff from the Great Northern River, forming thick, permanent puddles and tiny ponds. Downstar could almost hear the slugs and snails worming along the muddy shores and along the giant protruding roots. Downstar jumped from root to root, avoiding the algae-filled water. She hoped the other warriors were wise enough to know about leeches. How many times did Downstar go back to SlugClan camp as an apprentice with those disgusting creatures sucking on her legs? At least RippleClan copied their leader, following her path through the territory.

Downstar's mediators and artisans had been to SlugClan's camp since the founding of RippleClan; they often visited for trade and diplomacy's sake. Yet Downstar herself had not seen her birthplace since she set off with her fellow founders. How would it look now? How would Downstar's memories, her glories and tragedies, melt into the battle yet to come?

"Downstar!" a LynxClan codekeeper hissed from the back of the patrol. "I saw movement, racing past us. I think a patrol's seen us."

"That was bound to happen eventually," Halibutdusk muttered.

"Then we move quickly," Downstar huffed. She jumped off a buldging root and let her memories carry her to SlugClan's camp. The paws of her war patrol thundered behind her.

Thorn bushes marked out the walls of SlugClan's camp. Two willows, only just showing signs of spring growth, sheltered the Clan, with one standing amongst the thorny walls and another blossoming from the camp's heart. The nearly full moon danced through the fuzzy tendrils of the willow trees, dappling the area. Downstar could already hear warning yowls ring out inside the camp, stirring the sleeping warriors. The warriors on guard arched their backs, eyes darting about for signs of the incoming swarm.

Scaleripple and Leathermask lunged past Downstar. They tackled the two guards, spinning into one another. Two WheatClan warriors followed suit, pinning the guards down. With a flick of her tail, Downstar and her patrol stormed into SlugClan's camp.

If it weren't for the well-formed walls, it wouldn't have been strange to assume SlugClan's camp was just another part of the forest. All their artisan tools and ovens were hidden in a small grove away from the main part of camp, leaving just the giant willow tree and a series of thick bushes visible. The camp was too crowded for even a fire to warm the warriors through the night. Each bush marked the entrance to one of SlugClan's many dens, with the warrior's den right near the camp entrance. This meant, as Downstar and her war patrol breached the safety of SlugClan's camp, a horde of warriors met them before they got a tail-length in.

"Gorgestar!" Downstar yowled as her claws dug into a SlugClan caretaker. This particular caretaker was a bulky mass, shoving Downstar back into the swarm of intruding warriors. An AshClan codekeeper helped Downstar up and lunged at the offending caretaker. Downstar couldn't help but laugh; had she ever imagined an AshClan cat helping her in battle?

The tendrils of the willow tree that formed part of the camp wall shook. Waspdawn's gray eyes beamed from the branches. He, Puddlewhisper, and the rest of the AshClan warriors launched from the willow, landing on the SlugClan warriors. Tufts of fur flew across the clearing. The war patrol streaked around Downstar, finding the closest SlugClan scent and digging into their pelts. The queens scrambled out of the nursery, standing guard in front of their beloved kits. Elders who still had fire burning in their pelts stalked toward the chaos, daring the intruders to strike. Young, skinny warriors ushered mediators and artisans across camp. None of them were important to Downstar, not that night. No, her focus rested on the thick bush at the base of the central willow. The leader's den.

Downstar pounced on a SlugClan warrior. She tore into his ear, just as one of SlugClan's ranks had ripped into Honeybuzz. The warrior threw his head forward, flipping Downstar onto her back. Downstar's back paws slashed at the warrior's belly. The warrior yowled, stumbling back, giving Downstar enough time to get back on her paws. Her patrol tumbled and caterwauled across the camp, pinning down any SlugClan warrior they could get their claws on. One of the mediators burst from the procession of retreating noncombatants—Voleflake, that was his name, he was the go-to mediator to visit RippleClan—and raced into Gorgestar's den. Fine. Having a mediator during this confrontation would be better. There wasn't a hair on Downstar's pelt that wanted to draw blood from her old friend.

Downstar ran for the leader's den. She jumped over Waspdawn and a SlugClan codekeeper, teeth buried deep into one another. Downstar was just a few tail-lengths from the den. A pale gray blur slammed into Downstar's side. The tortoiseshell leader stumbled, but stayed on her feet. A pale gray tabby tom sneered at her with glistening green eyes. The huge scar along his chest, an infamous mark from a roaming wolverine, identified the muscular tom as Lettucecloud, the deputy of SlugClan.

"Downstar, why are you doing this?" Lettucecloud yowled, claws bracing for Downstar to pounce. "Why would you attack us?"

"Why would we attack you?" Downstar spat. "Why would you attack us? SlugClan has been out of control, Lettucecloud! I can't let you maul my clerics and go unpunished."

"Clerics?" Lettucecloud snapped, rearing back. "As in more than one? I only know about Honeybuzz."

"Weevilsight—" Downstar hissed, but a screeching mass of lilac fur smacked into her face. A long-furred SlugClan warrior pinned Downstar into the frosty ground.

"Carvingfur, we are talking!" Lettucecloud yowled. The warrior, Carvingfur, froze with a paw raised to claw at Downstar's eyes.

"Well forgive me for fighting an intruder," Carvingfur hissed.

"You've been attacking everyone you see by the border!" Downstar yowled. She shoved Carvingfur off, loosing a chunk of fur in the process. "You've mauled noncombatants! You tried to kill Weevilsight at StarClan's Shrine!" Lettucecloud's eyes bulged. Downstar stood tall, keeping an ear pricked for another would-be attacker.

"Call off your patrol," he gulped. "Stop the fight. We need to talk."

"You…" Downstar muttered, her ears ringing from the battle cries around her. "You don't know what I'm talking about." Downstar scurried up the central willow. She jumped onto the lowest sturdy branch and yowled, "Warriors! Halt! Halt!" Lettucecloud hurried up the tree beside Downstar. He yowled as loud as his lungs could manage. Slowly, the bloody warriors filling SlugClan's camp slowed in their bloodshed. Waspdawn hacked out another cat's blood and fur. Scaleripple and Leathermask limped into camp, covered in scratches and bruises. A SlugClan historian stepped off Halibutdusk. Warriors slipped on melting frost, which diluted the blood dripping from long claw marks. All eyes turned to the central willow.

"Give Downstar and I a moment to talk!" Lettucecloud yowled. "We… we will resolve this peacefully." Outrage tore through the warriors. SlugClan warriors hissed and batted at their camp's intruders, while the war patrol demanded SlugClan's heads.

"Remember why we came here!" Downstar snapped. "We've made SlugClan listen. We will draw no more blood tonight. I expect the codekeepers in our ranks to keep the peace. Puddlewhisper, with me."

Downstar's war patrol crept to one side of the camp, licking their wounds. The two clerics of SlugClan hurried to their Clanmates, sniffing their pelts for serious wounds. Codekeepers and the cooler heads of the war patrol held back vengeful warriors with a few curt words. Puddlewhisper slipped around the grumbling cats and scaled the willow. She eyed Lettucecloud closely and sat beside her leader.

"What's going on, Lettucecloud?" Downstar sighed.

"I have a theory," Lettucecloud sighed, staring down at the leader's den. Downstar suddenly realized that despite the chaos of the battle, Gorgestar had not shown his face since the war patrol's arrival. Sure, he couldn't fight, but he should have at least confronted Downstar.

"Start with why you attacked our clerics," Puddlewhisper huffed.

"One of your patrols told us they had orders to increase their aggression at the border," Downstar said. "Did Gorgestar give those orders?"

"He must have," Lettucecloud admitted. "I thought I stopped it after the incident with Honeybuzz. Gorgestar must have encouraged our warriors behind my back."

"You're trying to say your warriors got into skirmishes and you never knew of them?" Puddlewhisper said with a less-than-convinced sneer.

"In a cruel twist of fate," Downstar chuckled with a sad shake of her head, "that's the most believable part of this story. Gorgestar loves to handle patrol duties, he was that way when I was a caretaker here." Downstar's battle hardiness returned as she set her face and continued, "The rest of what you're saying, now that is less than believable. Gorgestar is a just leader who has always sought peace along his borders. He wouldn't change overnight." Lettucecloud's ears sunk low. He jumped out of the willow, in front of the leader's den. Downstar and Puddlewhisper followed him down.

"Talk to him yourself," Lettucecloud muttered. "You'll understand then." Lettucecloud peered into the leader's den and said, "Voleflake, Downstar and her codekeeper are coming in. They don't mean Gorgestar any harm." With that, Lettucecloud stepped back, giving the mollies room to enter.

The last time Downstar saw Gorgestar's den, she had been bidding her Clan farewell, preparing to take the lead over RippleClan and start a new story for the Clans. The cocky youth that still stirred in Downstar's chest laughed at the den's simplicity; the shipwreck and the overturned human basket Downstar nested in were far superior. Gorgestar's nest was the only thing of note within the bushy den, pressed against the trunk of the central willow. Voleflake sat beside the nest, whiskers twitching rapidly as he watched the two leaders meet. Gorgestar himself stood in his nest, trying to slide himself into his sled. Moss tore from his nest and collected on his motionless hind legs. He muttered something unintelligible, sparing nary a glance toward Downstar and Puddlewhisper.

"Gorgestar?" Downstar called. Gorgestar jolted from his work, eyes glazed. It took him a moment to settle on Downstar. The tension in his neck relaxed and his entire face softened.

"Downdapple, there you are," Gorgestar sighed. "What's the situation out there? Who attacked us?" Dread dripped down Downstar's throat and drowned her voice. "It was Autumnstar, wasn't it? Who else would come into camp like this?"

"They're gone, Gorgestar," Voleflake promised, touching his nose to Gorgestar's shoulder. "Down… Downdapple is just making sure you're alright." Voleflake's long, tense stare clued the two RippleClan mollies in.

"Yes, yes, of course," Gorgestar muttered. "You're a devoted caretaker, Downdapple, even if you turn a few of my hairs gray." He chuckled as he shuffled himself into his sled. "Tie me in, Downdapple. I should address the Clan, check on our warriors."

"Fennelspot is taking care of everything," Downstar said quickly, hurrying to Gorgestar's side. "He wants to focus on his work. Maybe you can address SlugClan once he's finished?"

"Clever molly," Gorgestar chuckled. His eyes caught on Puddlewhisper, who still lingered near the entrance. "Downdapple, I didn't realize, I should have known you wouldn't stumble in here without cause. We have a prisoner! Puddlespeckle, isn't it?" Puddlewhisper suddenly seemed too big for her pelt. "Good work, Downdapple. Make sure the codekeepers keep a close eye on this tom."

"I'll take care of the prisoner right now," Downstar said, backing up. "I just wanted to check on you." Downstar brushed against Puddlewhisper, easing the unnerved codekeeper out of the leader's den. "Don't strain yourself… sir." Downstar escorted Puddlewhisper out of the den before she could face more of Gorgestar's delusions.

"I've had a few cats misgender me in my life," Puddlewhisper groaned as they rejoined Lettucecloud outside, "but somehow, that was the worst." SlugClan glared at Downstar and Puddlewhisper, but most were too busy licking their wounds to speak up. Downstar's patrol tried to approach her, but Waspdawn and the other codekeepers kept them at bay.

"You'll have to forgive Gorgestar," Lettucecloud insisted in a soft voice. "His mind is caught in the past. It's anyone's guess what he'll think is real. He's been like this for some time now. It was managable for a while, at least I thought."

"He shouldn't be leader," Downstar growled, the fog of shock and grief fading. "He should have retired as soon as his mind began to fade. Surely your clerics and mediators would agree."

"He only has one life left," Lettucecloud sighed, lowering himself before the furious leader (much to the shagrin of Lettucecloud's Clanmates). "I've taken over most of his duties and keep him comfortable. I didn't want to disgrace his legacy by forcing him into the elder's den. How would it have looked to the other Clans? Do you think Eelstar, Gentlestar, or Ospreystar would respect my leadership if I ousted my predecessor?"

"He's been organizing patrols behind your back," Puddlewhisper huffed. "I've heard how age can cripple the mind, make one paranoid. StarClan knows what he's been telling his Clan, Downstar."

"It stops tonight," Lettucecloud declared. "I'm calling together a vote to officially remove Gorgestar from leadership. If I had realized what he was having SlugClan do, I would have ousted him moons ago, Downstar."

"You let your sentimentality endanger your Clan and mine," Downstar growled, ears and tail high as she spoke. "I speak for the other four Clans when I say this. When you come to the Gathering in a few days, I expect to be calling you Lettucestar. We will not tolerate any more skirmishes along your borders. It's up to you to keep your Clan in check, Lettucecloud, or the other leaders will do your job for you." Downstar looked back into the leader's den. Voleflake spoke softly to Gorgestar, but the paralyzed leader's eyes were far away.

Truthfully, the war patrol could only be called a success, Downstar knew that. But somehow, it would have been better if Gorgestar had some secret plan for Downstar to thwart. She couldn't thwart her old friend's mind.

All Downstar could do was grieve.

(Downstar: 140, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Puddlewhisper: 47, trans female, thoughtful, keen eye, ghost sense)

(Halibutdusk: 73, nonbinary (they/them), gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)

(Scaleripple: 34, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Leathermask: 29, male, warrior, nervous, good fighter, eloquent speaker)

Trumpetspore notices Rapidleaf sulking around camp again.

[Image ID: Parsley, Trumpetspore, and Leatherpaw watch Rapidleaf. Under Leatherpaw, it says LEVEL UP! VENGEFUL -> CONFIDENT.]

---

Something about Rapidleaf unnerved Trumpetspore.

Perhaps it was her unusual arrival, interrupting her own cousin’s vigil in a daze. Perhaps it was her refusal to be escorted back to LynxClan, even though she could make the journey and recover at home. Perhaps it was her silence, despite question after question from Puddlewhisper and Waspdawn. Trumpetspore’s best guess? It was her eyes, blue and haunted, as she crouched near the back of the medicine den and sculked to the dirtplace.

“Ms. Downstar and Weedfoot would never dream of forcing Ms. Rapidleaf out, not after what’s happened,” Parsley said as Trumpetspore and Leatherpaw shared some broth with her before the Gathering. “But I don’t like how shifty she’s been.”

“Could LynxClan be planning an attack?” Leatherpaw wondered.

“And they drowned one of their warriors as what, a threat?” Parsley scoffed. Leatherpaw dipped his head back into the bowl, drowning his embarrassment in food.

“There she is,” Trumpetspore whispered, eyes locked on the medicine den. Rapidleaf stepped into the setting sun. She let out a watery cough and slowly crossed camp. It was the furthest Trumpetspore had seen her from the medicine den since the vigil. Rapidleaf approached the stove, where Rabbitjoy and Tempestshade were giving everyone their share of broth. Rapidleaf spoke quietly to the pair, too quiet for Trumpetspore to hear. Soon though, she had a bowl of her own, which she carried back to the medicine den. 

“She doesn’t seem that odd,” Leatherpaw noted. 

“I just don’t like how she showed up,” Parsley huffed. “Like she’s replacing my old friend.”

“No one’s going to replace Scrubmask,” Trumpetspore promised, her paw touching Parsley’s. “Oilstripe is already calling her the Celestial of RippleClan Warriors!”

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather below the Shiprock for a Clan meeting!” Trumpetspore had a few more licks of broth as the Clan gathered below Downstar, who looked far stronger than she had been in recent moons. Soon, Trumpetspore, Parsley, Leatherpaw, and many of their Clanmates were on their way to the Gathering, welcoming in the warm summer.

Trumpetspore helped carry a pot she sculpted at the end of spring, the perfect sort for boiling. She wasn’t an artisan, of course, but she’d developed some friendships through trading at Gatherings and other holidays, so she could trade the pot with WheatClan for good picks of their early summer crops. She carefully carried the pot on her back, strapped down with some of Rattlepelt and Rabbitjoy’s well-crafted leather straps. Trumpetspore’s back ached from the long walk to the Leader’s Stone, but it would be worth sampling some of WheatClan’s wonderful delicacies. 

As the RippleClan delegation neared the cliff leading to the Leader’s Stone, Trumpetspore noted that the crowd above seemed quieter than usual. It was only noticeable to more attentive cats, but Trumpetspore was sure of it; the Clans weren’t as chatty as they typically were. RippleClan was almost always the last Clan to arrive, considering their distance, so surely all the other Clans were there. Trumpetspore kept her ears perked as she carefully followed the trail up, eyeing her pot.

The answer became clear when Trumpetspore broke through the thick summer growth and into the fire-lit clearing. LynxClan typically sat on the far western side of the clearing, closer to their own borders. To Trumpetspore’s surprise, there were only a few cats sitting over there. The other three Clans kept glancing LynxClan’s way, muttering amongst themselves, but no one had the courage to ask their burning questions yet. The mystery deepened when Trumpetspore turned her attention to the Leader’s Stone itself. A white tom with green-yellow eyes and a few small brown spots sat below Eelstar (who looked shockingly frostbitten, despite the season), Gorgestar, and Gentlestar (Sanderlingstar had passed moons ago), his stance tall despite his position on the bottom level of the rock. Trumpetspore recognized him; it was Ospreytongue! He was a LynxClan mediator. Trumpetspore had gotten to know him a few times while escorting Rabbitjoy or Spikecrash to meetings. What was he doing on the Leader’s Stone? He wasn’t deputy, and Trumpetspore was certain Mistlestar still had a few lives left. Yet Fluttertooth, a LynxClan warrior, sat with the other deputies (Barkfur, Lettucecloud, and Ratbreeze). 

“I don’t like the look of this,” Parsley grumbled as RippleClan set out their goods and took their spot on the far eastern side of the clearing. Downstar climbed to the top of the Leader’s Stone, sitting just below Gorgestar. She glanced up at her old friend and former leader, but Gorgestar looked as confused as everyone else.

“I say we don’t waste time on proper introductions tonight,” Eelstar barked once Downstar was settled. “Ospreytongue, where in the Dark Forest are your leader and deputy? Where’s the rest of your Clan?”

“It’s Ospreystar now,” the white tom sighed. Every cat in the clearing tensed as they awaited whatever awful news the new leader had in store. The few faces from LynxClan cast their heads down. “Esteemed members of the five Clans, I am afraid a deep and unspeakable tragedy has befallen LynxClan, the likes of which has not been seen in many moons.” Eelstar shifted uncomfortably. “Less than a moon ago, a cougar appeared in LynxClan territory. It broke into our camp and decimated our numbers. Kits, elders, every rank of our Clan felt a hard loss. Our deputy was the first to die. Mistlestar gave the rest of their lives to drive the beast away. The…” Ospreystar’s voice broke for a moment. “The cats you see here represent half of our remaining population.” 

Mournful wails and gasps broke through the crowd. Half? That couldn’t be! The LynxClan delegation was smaller than RippleClan’s caretakers and codekeepers alone! Only that many cats survived? Their Clan had been so big before…

“You’re hardly a year old yourself, Ospreystar,” Gentlestar whined, her long brown fur blowing in the sudden cold wind. “How did a young mediator end up the new leader of LynxClan?”

“Our only remaining cleric, Curlglow, interpreted StarClan’s will,” Ospreystar explained. “Our ancestors believe I am the best fit to help LynxClan recover from this tragedy. We ask for whatever aid you can provide us in the coming moons. Medicine, food, we’ll take all the help we’re offered.”

“SlugClan shall do what it can,” Gorgestar promised.

“So will RippleClan,” Downstar said. “Words can’t describe the horror you’ve gone through, Ospreystar. I can only hope my Clan can offer a shred of good news. One of your warriors, Rapidleaf, is still alive and recovering in RippleClan’s camp.” The LynxClan cats lit up like blazing fires. Hope sparked in their eyes as they got to their paws, itching to yowl their questions.

“How long has she been there?” Ospreystar gasped, lips curled. “Why didn’t you tell LynxClan prior to tonight?”

“We tried, Ospreystar,” Downstar groaned. “I sent two different patrols to your border, and both times they returned empty-mouthed. They never encountered your warriors.” Ospreystar shrunk slightly, giving his chest an embarrassed lick.

“Our patrols have been sporadic while we’ve regained our footing,” he explained. 

“How exactly did a LynxClan warrior make it all the way to RippleClan?” Gentlestar hummed. “It’s far from a simple journey.”

“She had water in her lungs when she stumbled into our camp,” Downstar said. “She was half-drowned and delirious. She’s still recovering under the care of Troutpool and Honeypaw.”

“Most of LynxClan’s border with the Great Northern River is lined with cliffs,” Ospreystar mumbled, eyes searching through his memory. “It’s the only real water source she could have drowned in. Last we saw of Rapidleaf, she joined Mistlestar’s patrol to chase out the cougar. No one made it home. What has she told you?”

“She won’t explain herself,” Downstar huffed.

“May I make an educated guess as to what happened?” Gentlestar asked. “It seems to me that in the battle against the cougar, Rapidleaf must have fallen into the Great Northern River and been swept all the way to RippleClan. The trauma of the situation combined with her near-death experience would be enough to rattle anyone’s memory. It’s possible she won’t explain the situation because she has no answers for you.” 

“When can she return home?” Ospreystar asked Downstar. “We need all the paws we can.” LynxClan yowled their agreement, sharing the joy of a lost friend’s homecoming with the other Clans. Trumpetspore and Leatherpaw glanced at each other awkwardly.

“We’ll discuss that in private,” Downstar assured the young leader. “RippleClan will give what we can to help LynxClan rebuild itself.” 

The rest of the Gathering continued on in some vague semblance of normalcy, but Trumpetspore couldn’t stop thinking; from the way Rapidleaf acted, she remembered something about how she arrived in RippleClan. Was her silence a way to avoid returning to a home filled with tragedy and mourning?

(Trumpetspore: 21, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

(Rapidleaf: 78, female, warrior, lonesome, prophecy interpreter)

(Parsley: 154, female, elder, righteous, great speaker)

(Leatherpaw: 8, male, warrior apprentice, confident, avid play-fighter, confident with words)

(Downstar: 119, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

Lavendertwist wants to better remember lost friends, and decides to quietly become a historian.

[Image ID: Lavendertwist stands proud on screen.]

(Lavendertwist: 26, male, historian, playful, great singer, good storyteller)

Terracottafoot asks to speak with Weedfoot, Darkkick, and Paleseed privately.

[Image ID: Terracottafoot, now an adult, says to Weedfoot, Paleseed, and Darkkick (now in an elder sprite), “I’m not going to reject help just because it doesn’t come from AshClan.”]

---

“Paleseed, do you have any idea what this meeting is about?” Weedfoot hummed as she, Darkkick, and Paleseed made their way to the AshClan border, following the setting sun. 

“I know as much as you do, Mom,” Paleseed sighed. “Terracottafoot is a good kit. Whatever they want to talk about, they mean no harm.”

“I would have thought their mentor would have poisoned them against me,” Darkkick muttered. Old age had smacked her across the face like a tidal wave; it seemed she sprouted a Gathering’s worth of gray hairs in a single night.

“Maybe we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Paleseed suggested. The announcement about Newtstream’s death had slipped through the chaos of the Gathering as the Clans all gathered together to support poor LynxClan. After all, it seemed AshClan had a notice of death to give every other moon, so why would Newtstream’s death be anything of note?

While the Clans busied themselves after the announcements with comforting words and plans for LynxClan, Terracottafoot had slipped away from the other clerics and asked Paleseed to bring herself, her mother, and Darkkick to the AshClan border the following sunset. They hadn’t said anything more before other AshClan cats pushed by them, still focused on LynxClan. A day later, as the three RippleClan cats made their way to the border, Paleseed had a theory. She kept quiet for now, waiting to see what Terracottafoot actually thought.

The ginger cat was waiting for the group when they arrived. Terracottafoot paced the border, fur raised, meowing under their breath. Their head and tail shot up when they heard the RippleClan cats approach. Their worry escaped in a loud sigh.

“You came!” Terracottafoot gasped. “Thank you, thank you! We need to be quick about this. Eelstar and Barkfur will be furious if they find out I’m meeting you.”

“I’ve never had a chance to speak with you,” Darkkick muttered, eyes narrowed at the young cleric, “but you were Newtstream’s apprentice. How could someone who trained under her do something she would have despised?”

“Because I love my Clan, Warrior Darkkick,” Terracottafoot gulped, standing as tall as they could, “and StarClan’s told me you can help. I’m not going to reject help just because it doesn’t come from AshClan.”

“We’re listening,” Weedfoot said, taking a seat by the border. Paleseed sat beside her mother, but Darkkick remained standing.

“This is about what Waspdawn and I saw, isn’t it?” Paleseed asked softly. “The early autumn frostbite. Eelstar’s absences from Gatherings. All the deaths of the last year.” Terracottafoot, despite having their name for a few moons by then, still looked like the nervous, tiny apprentice Paleseed met by the border a year ago. It took them a minute to find their words.

“I don’t want things to be like this,” Terracottafoot finally grunted. “I don’t want to be caring for my entire Clan all the time! You might not believe this, but I’m actually a rather well-spoken and confident cat most of the time. I would like to be like that more of the time. I just… I can’t be that cat while Autumnstar is haunting us!” Weedfoot and Darkkick moved in closer. Paleseed shrunk into herself slightly at the old leader’s mention. He never harmed you personally, Paleseed, remember that, you’re reacting in empathy with your mother and all she lost.

“It would be best to start from the beginning,” Weedfoot huffed. Terracottafoot nodded, almost shaking their head off.

“Autumnstar got sick during my kithood,” Terracottafoot explained. “He kept losing lives, and he would have these fits where he couldn’t leave his den for days. Eelstar and Newtstream kept it secret, no one else knew about it. Newtstream tried performing a ritual with some rosemary blessed carvings, but it didn’t work. He still died. Newtstream said StarClan punished him for being angry toward RippleClan. She said he couldn’t fight you anymore knowing you had StarClan’s guidance, but he got mad at everyone else instead.” Terracottafoot could have been a historian in another life, Paleseed noted as her heartbeat filled her ears.

“After he died, Newtstream thought that was the end of it,” Terracottafoot gulped. “But then cats started shivering, and they couldn’t stop. It was like they were freezing to death, no matter how many pelts we put on them or how big our fire was. Newtstream asked StarClan what was happening and… they said it was Autumnstar. He was in the Dark Forest, and he was angry at his Clan and punishing them.” 

“Good,” Darkkick snapped, making the other three cats jump. “As soon as Autumnstar denied StarClan’s vision of RippleClan, I knew he was too absorbed in his own image of Clan stability to make it to StarClan some day.” Paleseed’s pelt burned at the thought of praising someone’s imprisonment in the Dark Forest. Weedfoot stayed still.

“StarClan gave Newtstream a ritual to perform with items representing things Autumnstar hated,” Terracottafoot said. “That’s when I met you, Paleseed. We needed RippleClan horsetail to represent his hate of RippleClan. It would work for a bit to slow down symptoms or cure cats for a bit, but they would eventually freeze again. It hit Eelstar the worst. He… no, I shouldn’t say that.” He’d lost more than one life. Paleseed was certain that was the hidden message. “The curse only targets cats who were alive during the war with your Clan, so I’ve been immune. I’ve been working myself to death helping with the ritual and treating cats, and I can only do so much. My Clan is dying.”

“Why did you ask for our help, then?” Weedfoot asked.

“Newtstream passed not long ago,” Terracottafoot said, voice dropping. “I didn’t know what to do without her. At the last half-moon meeting, I met someone in StarClan. Celestial Paleshade.” A shiver creeped up Paleseed’s spine. “She showed me a vision. I saw the three of you running through a frost-covered forest as leaves fell around you. When you passed a tree, the frost melted off the bark. I believe you three are what my Clan needs to stop Autumnstar.”

“But Autumnstar’s dead, Terracottafoot,” Paleseed gulped. “We can’t fight him. We aren’t clerics. We don’t have your connection to StarClan. He isn’t even in StarClan.” Terracottafoot glanced at the sky, where the first few stars showed their face. Paleseed felt a hundred eyes on her pelt.

“There is a way,” Terracottafoot whispered. “It’s forbidden except in the most hopeless of situations, but if Celestial Paleshade showed me this vision, I believe we have StarClan’s approval. When Harvest Moon arrives, the border between the living world and the Dark Forest is at its weakest. I can put the three of you to sleep and send your souls to the Dark Forest. From there, you can find Autumnstar and stop this.” Paleseed couldn’t stop shaking. The Dark Forest? Where the worst souls of the Clans stalked the trees? Where Spirits of Shadow lurked around every bush?

“My daughter is a mediator,” Weedfoot growled, pushing against Paleseed. “She doesn’t fight. It would be mouse-brained to send her there.”

“But she bears Celestial Paleshade’s name!” Terracottafoot whined. “And the two of you were two of his greatest enemies. I believe you have a spiritual power against him that no AshClan cat could match. If I sent anyone else there, they wouldn’t wake up again, I know it. StarClan wants it to be you three. You have to save my Clan.” 

Paleseed glanced at Weedfoot and Darkkick. Both seemed moons away, eyes unseeing. Darkkick’s tail thrashed. Weedfoot licked Paleseed’s shoulder.

“You would want to do this during Harvest Moon?” Weedfoot said. “When the Spirits of Shadow are strongest?”

“They focus their attention on the living world, not their own,” Terracottafoot stuttered. “Visiting them in the Dark Forest would… well, there would be fewer spirits to contend with, to begin.”

“We need some time to think about this,” Weedfoot huffed. “You can’t expect us to agree to such a dangerous mission for the sake of a Clan that tried to kill us. Not immediately, at the very least.” Darkkick growled under her breath, shaking her head.

“You have a whole season to decide,” Terracottafoot said. They glanced behind them and said, “I need to return to camp. I have a lot of cats to care for. I… I pray you say yes, Deputy Weedfoot. I don’t know what AshClan would do without you.” They met Paleseed’s eyes. The hope and fear in their gaze slashed at Paleseed like claws. With that, Terracottafoot ran into AshClan territory, leaving the three RippleClan cats with their new burden.

(Weedfoot: 109, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Paleseed: 26, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

From Downstar’s position, she had a clear view of Gorgestar and Bubblemoon, waiting quietly on their side of the border. AshClan territory was quiet, as it so often seemed to be. Bubblemoon helped his leader stretch his stiff back legs (Gorgestar’s sled, a bark board with leather straps to tie around his back, sat to the side). The round black and white tom eyed AshClan’s territory with stiff ears and claws peeking out of his paws. Gorgestar, meanwhile, was the symbol of serenity. Even as Bubblemoon rubbed his little-used muscles, he calmly studied the blinding light bouncing off the snow. With the sunrise clawing through AshClan’s trees, the world seemed ablaze.

A heavy clump of snow fell from a tree not too far from the SlugClan duo. Bubblemoon tensed, eyes locked on the suspect snow.

“Bubblemoon,” Gorgestar sighed, breathing deep, “if you don’t relax, he’ll know something is wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Gorgestar,” Bubblemoon groaned. “I’m worried. Not just for us, either. I’m worried about Downstar and Fennelspot and the rest of RippleClan, even AshClan!”

“Autumnstar is a stubborn tom who doesn’t want to admit that the Clans can’t be as insular and traditional as his ancestors wanted,” Gorgestar huffed. “Yet even he can listen to reason if we make him stop and sit a while.”

“Do you think he might attack us?” Bubblemoon gulped. The comment earned him a tired stare from Gorgestar.

“You’re the cleric of a Clan Autumnstar greatly respects,” Gorgestar said, bumping heads with the skittish tom. “I’m the soggy lump of leather that’s saved his torn flank from more than a few disasters. Autumnstar is a fierce and traditional leader, but he’s not rabid. He’ll be mad, yes, but he’ll have someone else to throw claws with.” Bubblemoon glanced at Downstar’s hiding place, but Gorgestar smacked his paw.

A few moments later, an orange figure appeared within AshClan territory. Downstar tensed as Autumnstar drew toward the SlugClan border. Gorgestar and Bubblemoon spotted Autumnstar soon after Downstar. Autumnstar’s paws crunched the wet snow under him as he stood on the border’s edge. Gorgestar pulled himself up to Autumnstar, with what little movement his back legs still retained helping him reach Autumnstar’s frost-bitten nose. The nose touch was quick and polite, but Autumnstar’s face made it clear he expected the greeting to be longer.

“Gorgestar, Bubblemoon,” Autumnstar hummed, nodding to each of the toms. “I appreciate that you called this meeting. It’s always a pleasure to get the wisdom of a noble leader like yourself.”

“I’m glad you agreed to stop by the border,” Gorgestar said. “Have you been busy since the last Gathering?”

“Somewhat,” Autumnstar said with a flick of an ear. “We’ve mostly dealt with trespassers and troublemakers. I’ve meant to warn your Clan, Gorgestar, a human hunting party set up camp in our territory. They may wander into your lands.”

“I got a sign about them,” Bubblemoon said softly. He stared at Autumnstar’s chest, even as the orange and white leader tried to catch his eye.

“I can only assume your Clan is working on a plan to drive them out?” Gorgestar sighed.

“They should move on in a couple days,” Autumnstar said as he stretched his back legs. “If not, we have ways to frighten them back to their dens.”

“On the subject of trespassers, Autumnstar,” Gorgestar huffed, “I wanted to talk to you about a young cat who visited my Clan shortly after the Gathering.” 

Usually, the SlugClan leader’s tone was airy and a little louder than need be. Yet as he spoke, his voice dropped and sucked in everyone nearby. Downstar remembered that particular effect well from her caretaker days. Autumnstar’s tail danced over the packed snow, leaving soft lines behind it. Downstar’s legs grew sore and Bubblemoon’s tail went stiff.

“They came to me to discuss the safety of their friends and family,” Gorgestar said. “I sent them home without an escort. They didn’t make it home, Autumnstar.”

“The cream-colored cat,” Autumnstar sighed. He closed his eyes. His breath clouded around his whiskers.

“Their name was Locustseeker,” Gorgestar huffed. Bubblemoon sat taller at the dead cat’s name. Downstar’s claws ached to fly into action.

“They were trespassing on our territory,” Autumnstar huffed, opening his eyes. He paced up and down the border as he spoke. “My patrol had the right to pursue.”

“Not to kill!” Bubblemoon finally snapped. He stood right on the border and made their fluffy coat look bigger. He still paled in comparison to Autumnstar, though. “The Code of Spilled Blood—“

“Doesn’t apply to rogues,” Autumnstar growled. Downstar had enough. It was time to reveal herself.

A snowball slipped from the branches of the spruce beside Autumnstar. Autumnstar stared into the pines and met Downstar’s eyes glittering within the stark shadows. She flew from the tree with a warrior’s yowl. Autumnstar swiftly dodged her. Downstar landed in the sinking snow and easily slipped into a fighting stance, her bristling fur making her twice as big. Autumnstar took a moment to realize just who had fallen from the tree and then glared at Gorgestar with a look of both anger and hurt.

“Gorgestar!” Autumnstar yowled. “You invited me to an ambush?”

“I invited you to a meeting,” Gorgestar huffed, pulling himself to Downstar’s side. “A meeting with two leaders. This hostility between your Clans needs to end.”

“We’ve had enough, Autumnstar,” Downstar growled, claws sinking into the snow. “You’re going to listen.”

“Why should I?” Autumnstar snapped. “StarClan doesn’t want you, Downdapple.” Gorgestar and Downstar squirmed at the name.

“But you know they do!” Bubblemoon whined. “They spoke to all the clerics. They approve of RippleClan.”

“And yet just a moon prior, my cleric got a sign saying the opposite,” Autumnstar growled. “Do you really think StarClan would change its opinion in a single moon?”

“They do when you kill your own Clanmates,” Downstar hissed.

“I did what I had to,” Autumnstar said, “just as I always do.” His back paws shifted, acting as Downstar’s only clue of the impending assault. Gorgestar flailed back as Autumnstar slammed into Downstar. The tortoiseshell leader moved in time to avoid Autumnstar’s full strength, but he still caught her back legs. As her flank collapsed under Autumnstar’s weight, she spun around and swiped at his shoulders.

“Your own Clan wants to move on!” Downstar yowled, ducking under Autumnstar’s paw. “Why not let them?”

“Because the longer you’re around, the less my Clan has to survive!” Autumnstar roared. “You’ll take fish from our river—” He kicked Downstar in the stomach— “Scare prey from our land—” He smashed her head into the ground, sending her teeth through her tongue— “And bring the next great threat right to our camp!” Before Downstar could push herself up, Autumnstar churned his hind paws up and down Downstar’s spine.

“Autumnstar, enough!” Gorgestar hissed. He dragged himself toward the fight, but Bubblemoon pressed into his shoulder, urging him back.

“It’s only a matter of time before you invite a rogue into your midst who’ll threaten us all,” Autumnstar hissed, leaning into Downstar’s ear. Her head spun and her thoughts fluttered too quickly for her to catch, making her slow to realize what Autumnstar planned to do. “It’s my duty as a true leader to stop that.” 

Sharp fangs bit into the back of Downstar’s neck as though she were a piece of prey. Just like prey, she was gone before Autumnstar let go.

[Image ID: Locustseeker faces Downstar, saying “Tell Autumnstar I say hello.” Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 8]

For a while, it was like Downstar was asleep. She felt and thought of nothing. She would have thought it peaceful, had she had the state of mind to consider such things. However, as she suspected, her senses soon awoke in a gentle wave of warmth and splashing water.

Downstar laid on a coarse beach, her tail touching the edge of the ocean’s lapping waves. The sun danced above the horizon and made a beautiful yellow line over the ocean. The forest stretched beyond the beach, with distant mountains framing the land. A cream-colored cat sat beside Downstar, purring. Their fur shimmered in the sunrise.

“One life down, eight to do,” Locustseeker purred. 

Downstar hurried to stand. Oddly enough, the dizziness and pain that had enveloped her a short time before was gone. She checked her back, but there was no sign of Autumnstar’s claws digging into her well-toned muscle. She supposed that was to be expected. 

“Apparently, when you die,” Locustseeker explained as Downstar checked herself over, “you have to spend a minute in StarClan to recover. I argued with your daughter, but I got to be the one to greet you. Thanks for the name!”

“You deserved it,” Downstar said softly, braving herself to meet Locustseeker’s eyes. Without an apprentice name, they truly looked like an adult. When they left camp, they looked so young, though…

“I know Dad’s mad about me not having a grave to visit,” Locustseeker sighed, “but can you please tell him that’s not important? Just visit Twinekit’s grave if he misses me.” Downstar nodded dumbly. She sat beside the fallen apprentice and stared at the sea. Why had the Clans never thought to move eastward? She had lived by the coast for almost two years, and couldn’t imagine anything else now. How strange.

“One last thing before you go back,” Locustseeker said, drawing Downstar’s eye. Locustseeker’s whiskers twitched as they held back a laugh. Mischief twinkled in their gaze. “Tell Autumnstar I say hello.”

Somehow, coming back to life was more painful than dying. Downstar found herself gasping as pain rippled down her back and her body found itself no longer sitting on a warm beach but laying in cold, red snow. The snow sunk into her fur and chilled her skin. Autumnstar faced Gorgestar and Bubblemoon, clearly in the midst of a deep argument. However, as Downstar scrambled for breath, Autumnstar froze. Bubblemoon raced around the AshClan leader and skidded up to Downstar.

“Take deep breaths, Downstar,” Bubblemoon cooed. “StarClan’s healed most of your wounds, but you still have some scraps down your back. Take a minute.” Downstar groaned as the pain settled through her bones. Bubblemoon groomed her fur the wrong way to warm her up.

“You’re alive,” Autumnstar gasped in the softest voice Downstar had ever heard from the rampaging leader.

“Nine lives, Autumnstar,” Downstar coughed. Autumnstar stared at her without blinking, taking in every breath and twitch.

“You really thought StarClan rejected her?” Gorgestar sighed. Autumnstar’s breath quickened. His ears tilted so far back, Downstar thought they would go through his head. Before Downstar could think up another clever retort, Autumnstar raced over the border. The sound of his paws slamming into the wet snow lasted long after he vanished.

“Not how I expected that to end,” Downstar sighed, “but I’ll take it.”

(Downstar: 78, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Locustseeker: 12, nonbinary (they/them), historian apprentice, troublesome, moss-ball hunter)

RippleClan is free of whitecough. As Fennelspot warns the Clan of future whitecough signs, Rustshade notices how beautiful his eyes are.

[Image ID: Rustshade, Puddlespeckle, and Burdockcreek look up at Fennelspot in the upper left corner as he says, “And for StarClan’s sake, please don’t cough on other cats!”]

(Fennelspot: 76, male, cleric,  insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Rustshade: 63, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Burdockcreek: 13, male, historian, competitive, learner of lore)

“You really take this walk every moon?” Parsley groaned as she walked alongside Fennelspot in the RippleClan line-up. Downstar, fully recovered from the strain of birth, led the small Gathering patrol along the border between SlugClan and WheatClan. The AshClan delegation, which had more cats than Parsley had ever seen in one place, wandered ahead. Its members occasionally glanced back at RippleClan’s smalls numbers; Downstar, Weedfoot, Fennelspot, Parsley, Scrubmask, Oilstripe, and Puddlespeckle. Many of those eyes focused on Parsley.

“Well, I walk the first portion on the half-moon before the Gathering,” Fennelspot explained. “I have to visit StarClan’s Shrine.”

“And does AshClan escort you there, too?” Parsley mumbled, glaring at the large ginger and white figure at the front of the giant group. His mangled tail bounced high above his flank. Parsley wasn’t convinced the “nine lives” story was anything more than folklore to improve the leader’s image, but if leaders did get nine lives, judging by the scars covering Autumnstar’s body, he had most certainly lost a few by now.

“They used to,” Oilstripe chirped behind the pair. “Downstar got them to stop this moon.” She squeezed between Fennelspot and Parsley.

“Now I thought RippleClan was sovereign,” Parsley huffed. “Why did Autumnstar make such a fuss about us waiting at the border for AshClan?”

“It’s early RippleClan history!” Oilstripe explained. “When StarClan gave the Clans their blessing to form RippleClan, AshClan had to give up some of their land to us as payback for killing the Ashes in the Water, Weedfoot’s group of friends. Autumnstar only agreed to acknowledge RippleClan as a real Clan if they could escort us whenever we had to cross past their territory. It sucks, but it means they aren’t trying to kill us, so for now, we put up with it. They gotta escort us to Gatherings or Autumnstar said he’ll chase us out.”

“So much for independence,” Parsley huffed. “That’s just not right. I’m sure the other Clans don’t need a kitsitter.”

“We’re working on it,” Fennelspot groaned as the two Clans reached a harsh cliff face. A small path snaked up the side of a harsh wall of brown stone that stuck out of the sweeping, rugged hills that marked most of the area. Moss and leaves peeked out of the cracks and a small trickle of water flowed into a pool of clay to the side. Pawprints covered the clay deposit as memories of artisans harvesting clay for their terracotta. A narrow path wound its way up the slope. Voices chirped from somewhere up top. Autumnstar led AshClan up the cliff in two neat lines, but Downstar raised her tail and everyone in RippleClan stopped.

“Aren’t we going to join them?” Parsley huffed.

“RippleClan will make its own entrance,” Downstar explained. “Scrubmask, do you have our goods?” Scrubmask carried a basket filled with as many mussels as she and Carnationpaw could find. Parsley hadn’t realized cats were capable of crafting such things until her arrival over a moon prior. Scrubmask lifted the basket at her leader’s call. The mussel shells clattered together inside. Autumnstar yowled when he reached the top of the cliff and all the cats of AshClan launched up and out of sight.

“Stay together when we enter,” Weedfoot said, looking over her shoulder as Downstar flicked her tail and climbed the path up. 

“The Gathering can be really exciting,” Fennelspot explained as RippleClan followed Downstar, “but I want you to stay by me tonight, and let me know if your tail starts to hurt too much.” Parsley didn’t like lying, so she didn’t respond. Her tail burned and the exposed skin underneath her cobweb bandages stunk. Fennelspot said the wounds were infected and rarely left Parsley’s side. Even so, when RippleClan returned from the last Gathering, the way they spoke of the event pushed Parsley to ignore her pain and demand a place at the next one.

Since moving her tail too much made the burning worse, she couldn’t use it to balance along the narrow path. Fennelspot walked along the edge and kept her paws steady. Eventually, she made it to the top of the cliff, where Downstar and Weedfoot patiently waited for the rest of the Clanmates. They waited until every member of the patrol climbed onto the rich spring grass before they led RippleClan as a united group through a thick line of ferns and trees that concealed the Gathering Clearing.

Parsley thought AshClan was crowded, but the size of the crowd within the Gathering Clearing stole her breath. Never, in over a hundred moons of living, had she seen so many cats. There was a chance that there were more cats in this one clearing than Parsley had ever met. Every color pelt was on display, sitting on stones and hard ground ripping out of the grass, as cats from four different Clans gathered around a giant rock. It was a bulky, golden-brown structure as tall as two humans. Three cats stood on flat platforms scattered around the stone. Autumnstar climbed up the stone onto the highest platform. Downstar approached the rock and hopped onto the lowest platform. 

“You’ll be able to interact with the other Clans once the leaders make their announcements,” Fennelspot whispered. “For now, stay here.”

“Well, you’ll need to tell me who is who,” Parsley whispered back. “And will you please throw in a few pronouns? I can’t understand why you Clan cats always assume things.”

“Parsley, you’re a Clan cat now,” Scrubmask reminded her. 

“Greetings, everyone!” Autumnstar yowled from on top of the Leader’s Stone. “Welcome to the second Gathering of the new year. AshClan will start this moon’s announcements, as we have much to be proud of.”

“Is he always like this?” Parsley asked. She must have said that a bit too loud, as Autumnstar’s huge yellow eyes locked onto her. His frost-bite scars looked like open blisters in the light of the small fire lit in front of the Leader’s Stone. Parsley would have tucked her tail if she could have moved it.

“I am excited to announce,” Autumnstar continued, looking back over the crowd, “that some of my grandchildren have finished their apprenticeships and now stand before you as adults, capable of handling any threat that comes their way. Tonight, please give warm praises to Burningpath, Nettlestep, and Crimsonrun, the newest artisans and codekeepers of AshClan!” The Clans chanted the three names as three cats, each with ginger pelts, stood with their chins and tails high. Even RippleClan chanted the new names, so Parsley joined along. She kept going a bit too long after everyone’s excitement faded.

“Beyond that joyous occasion,” Autumnstar said, “we must mention that a black bear has come out of hibernation near the land of the Clans and crossed the Great Northern River into our territory. It took the life of one of our strongest caretakers, Sundream, while on patrol. The bear has crossed the river once more, but be on the lookout, for it may continue wandering the Clans. The rest of this moon has been typical for us. Mistlestar, would you like to go next?” Autumnstar nodded to a dark red cat on the second highest platform.

“Mistlestar is LynxClan’s leader,” Fennelspot explained quickly. “They’re neither a tom nor a molly. They keep their announcements short.”

“LynxClan is strong,” Mistlestar huffed. “No new kits, apprentices, or graduates, although Whitestripe expects her kits before the next Gathering. An uneventful moon for us.” They sat and wrapped their tail over their paws. They glanced down at the two leaders who shared the second lowest platform. One had long, dark fur, and sat with their back legs splayed out. The other was white with a pale brown back and a round figure. They muttered to one another, trying to decide who would make announcements first.

“So these two lead SlugClan and WheatClan?” Parsley asked.

“Gorgestar is SlugClan’s leader,” Fennelspot sighed, pointing his tail at the long-furred cat. “He’s a good leader. I did my best after his fall, but I couldn’t restore his back legs.” Fennelspot’s tone dropped as he said that. “The other cat is Sanderlingstar, from WheatClan. She’s been a leader the longest, even though Autumnstar is older.”

“SlugClan has received a blessing from StarClan this moon,” Gorgestar suddenly said, startling a few cats in the crowd. “On the night of the half-moon, just as Bubblemoon returned from StarClan’s Shrine, Scaleshine and Leafear had a litter of nine kits. A quarter moon has passed, and all nine have survived so far. They’ve each been given wonderful names and are growing well.” Cheers and excitement rose in the crowd. 

“Are they well-fed?” Mistlestar asked.

“Bubblemoon is making sure every kit has their chance to eat and Scaleshine is not exhausted,” Gorgestar explained. “However, he needs to stay at her call to ensure her good health. SlugClan may call upon one of our neighbors for a spare cleric, should the need arise.”

“LynxClan has three to spare,” Mistlestar said with a nod. “We will help.”

“Thank you, Mistlestar,” Gorgestar purred. “That’s all for SlugClan. Sanderlingstar?” Sanderlingstar groaned and stretched, licking her lips as she looked over the crowd.

“WheatClan welcomes a new cleric apprentice by the name of Thistlepaw,” Sanderlingstar sighed. “She joins the apprentice’s den with her littermate, Fogpaw, who trains as a mediator.” The crowd cheered the names of the new apprentices. This time, Parsley made sure to stop chanting sooner rather than later. “Meanwhile, our oldest elder, Rockback, peacefully joined StarClan this moon. His last words, as he wanted everyone to know, were ‘It’s about time.’” WheatClan chuckled and various cats gave a bit of polite laughter, but AshClan was the loudest, fully giving into the dark humor. “WheatClan has fully embraced the spring growth and has new goods to trade, if any mediators or artisans want to visit our borders. Now I’m curious as to what our youngest Clan has been up to.” Sanderlingstar draped her paws over the edge of the platform as all the leaders looked down upon Downstar.

“It’s been quiet in RippleClan,” Downstar admitted. “My apprentice, Carnationpaw, has helped us collect some seaside goods for trade. We’ve brought some mussels with us for the communal soup, but they can be eaten raw as well.” Scrubmask stood on a rock so everyone could see her basket. “Beyond that, our kits are healthy and our camp is secure.”

“Well, that’s not really everything,” Sanderlingstar pointed out. “You’ve brought that loner you found with you tonight!” A hundred pairs of eyes fell on Parsley. Her fur bristled. She wasn’t doing anything wrong by being here!

“We told the Clans about Parsley last moon,” Downstar reminded the Gathering, blissfully pulling some eyes away from Parsley. “She’s a part of RippleClan now, and she is allowed to join us at Gatherings.”

“She’s caused trouble around AshClan in the past,” Autumnstar growled. His brutal eyes once again tore into Parsley. “I didn’t recognize her at first, but I remember reports of a self-righteous loner with a single white paw berating our patrols for doing their jobs.”

“And I remember a bunch of dim-witted killers screaming at me whenever I got within sight of them,” Parsley snapped. “I never crossed your borders but your warriors always harassed me. Of course, your Clan seems built on harassing others, isn’t it?” The crowd gasped and oooed at Parsley’s words while Autumnstar hissed. Oilstripe and Weedfoot cheered her on. 

“Enough, everyone,” Mistlestar huffed before the Clans got too rowdy. “Is that all, Downstar?” Downstar nodded, defiantly staring up at Autumnstar.

“Your new Warrior is a troublemaker, Downstar,” Autumnstar grumbled. “Let the Gathering begin!” The five Clans swarmed one another. Old friends touched noses and the scent of each group overwhelmed Parsley’s nose. Oilstripe and Puddlespeckle vanished into the crowd. Scrubmask approached a large oven with her basket of mussels. Weedfoot joined Downstar by the Leader’s Stone. 

“Well, what now then?” Parsley asked, eyes darting around the chaos.

“We socialize for a while until our Clan decides to leave,” Fennelspot explained, glancing between Parsley and Autumnstar. “Oilstripe will likely stay longer, though. There’s something called an Aftergathering once the leaders take their Clans home. It’s more relaxed than a regular Gathering.”

“This is already rather relaxed, don’tcha think?” Parsley chuckled. She groaned and stared at the huge crowd around her. “I’ll tell ya, Mr. Fennelspot… your Clans are strange.”

“You were so brave back there!” A young voice gasped. A murky gray kitten with a swirling pelt danced in front of Parsley. “You really showed AshClan up! I hope I can be like you when I graduate! I’m Fogpaw!” Fogpaw touched their nose to Parsley’s. Parsley stared for a few moments, unsure what to do next.

“Well, hi there,” she gulped. “She and her for me, please.”

“Why specify that when your scent matches?” Fogpaw asked, cocking their head. “Then again, maybe that makes sense, I mean, I’ll be telling everyone I use they and them my whole life, so I know some cats have to specify, but cats won’t really mess up for you. What was life like as a loner?” Huh. So this was a Gathering. Parsley could handle it.

“I’ve got a few stories if you’ve got time to hear them,” Parsley purred. Fogpaw nodded so hard, it looked like their head would come off. Parsley settled beside the young apprentice and did her best to enjoy her first Gathering.

(Parsley: 105, female, warrior, righteous, good speaker)

(Fennelspot: 68, male, cleric, insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Oilstripe: 15, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

(Downstar: 70, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Weedfoot: 60, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Scrubmask: 28, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

(Autumnstar: 115, male, leader, fierce, great hunter)

(Mistlestar: 78, agender (they/them), leader, cold, steady paws, excellent fire-starter)

(Gorgestar: 89, male, leader, sincere, excellent teacher)

(Sanderlingstar: 100, female, leader, childish, skilled toolsmith)