#heronflank

“AshClan won’t be happy,” Fennelspot groaned as Downstar led him, Rustshade, Clampaw, and Shadowpaw along the border between AshClan and WheatClan.

“I know that,” Downstar huffed. “I don’t really care if they’re mad at this point. I gave Autumnstar our ultimatum. I’m not bowing down to him anymore.” 

Clampaw walked between Downstar and Rustshade with a basket in her jaws. Flint shards littered the bottom of the basket and gently clattered together. Their shiny black surfaces caught the light of late dusk. The leaves around the RippleClan patrol were just starting to turn into their brilliant autumn colors. Shadowpaw, who wandered beside his mentor, stared at the shadows that pooled under the leaves. The human farms in WheatClan territory bloomed with the yearly harvest; fields of flax shimmered in the distance. The patrol walked in an unbroken line, with Downstar strolling along the border itself.

“I don’t like this,” Rustshade grumbled, glancing toward AshClan territory. 

“When are we going to get an actual artisan to trade with the other Clans?” Shadowpaw groaned. He shook out his pelt and walked closer to Rustshade.

“We’ll have to recruit more cats like Parsley and James,” Downstar explained. She slipped around the patrol and walked on the other side of her son. “I’m sure someone will want to be an artisan.”

“James doesn’t even do anything,” Shadowpaw grumbled with a sneer.

“He’s only been with us half a moon,” Downstar chuckled, nudging Shadowpaw. “Give him some time to adapt. He helped prep the apprentice’s den for autumn, didn’t he?”

“And then he complained about splinters,” Rustshade muttered.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Rustshade,” Downstar laughed. Rustshade purred softly and rolled his eyes. “James is fine. We’ll all be fine.”

“So you made good on your promise,” a loud voice called. Downstar could smell Autumnstar and his patrol before she saw them as a stiff wind shoved their woody stench over her whiskers. Autumnstar shoved through the browning foliage and into a brilliant orange sunspot. The setting sun turned his orange pelt into fire and the scars around his mangled tail into currents of blood. Bearchaser, a crooked old tom who looked like a darker version of Puddlespeckle, stood at Autumnstar’s side, glaring at the RippleClan patrol. Bile rose in Downstar’s throat as she remembered Weedfoot’s horrified retelling of just what those two did to her and her friends.

“That we did,” Downstar said, marching in front of her Clanmates. “It’s just like I told you at the Gathering last night. We’re going to trade with the other Clans whether you approve of it or not. We’ll be sticking by the border, just like LynxClan does when they visit you.”

“We don’t want you wandering through our lands,” Autumnstar huffed. “All we ask is that you wait for us by our border and let us escort you past!” Autumnstar stomped up to Downstar with Bearchaser lurking behind him. The tortoiseshell leader could feel his hot breath against her whiskers. “We let you trade with the other three Clans, we let you attend Gatherings, we let your antsy little cleric there freely visit StarClan’s Shrine, what more do you want from us?”

“Respect,” Downstar hissed. “We’ve had it with your bullying, Autumnstar. We are a sovereign Clan! We will conduct our own business with our neighbors and we will not let you hound after us!”

“StarClan would not allow a band of traitors to so easily enjoy the well-fought privileges you demand from us,” Autumnstar hissed. He stepped back and glared at each member of the patrol. Clampaw squirmed next to her father and Shadowpaw lifted his chin at Downstar’s side, forgetting the fact that he was half of Autumnstar’s size. “Everything you have is because of charm and pity. You’ve won nothing by the strength of your own claws. How can we ever respect a Clan that is too afraid to stand its ground?”

“Meet us by the border, and we’ll show you who can stand their ground,” Downstar snapped. “If our words mean nothing to you, we’ll show how strong we really are. RippleClan, we’re leaving.” Rustshade nudged Clampaw onward. Fennelspot lurked behind Downstar, glancing over her back at Autumnstar’s burning yellow eyes. 

“Good job, Mom!” Shadowpaw whispered as the stiff winds that whistled through the trees sent clouds over the half-set sun. Downstar looked over her shoulder toward Autumnstar and Bearchaser, but the duo were already returning to their territory.

“Downstar, did you just declare war on Autumnstar?” Fennelspot gulped, scampering in front of her. “They have so many cats! Downstar, we have maybe ten cats who can actually fight them off!”

“I wish we didn’t have to,” Downstar groaned, stepping around Fennelspot, “but Autumnstar won’t respect us without a fight. We need to get back to camp quickly. I need fresh paws. Hurry, everyone!” Downstar ran along the border. The sound of clattering flint was her only indication that the others were following her. Fennelspot ran alongside her, the worry as evident on his face as the clouds were evident in the sky. A few drops of rain speckled Downstar’s pelt as she ran to inform her Clan of what she hoped was the best decision.

(Fennelspot: 72, male, cleric,  insecure, valuable insight, incredible runner)

(Downstar: 74, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Rustshade: 59, male, codekeeper, sneaky, learner of lore)

(Shadowpaw: 7, male, codekeeper apprentice, adventurous, confident with words)

(Clampaw: 9, female, caretaker apprentice, lonesome, interested in Clan history)

Despite wishing Autumnstar would listen, Downstar feels forced to send a border patrol out to the AshClan border and prepare for an assault.

[Image ID: Downstar and Weedfoot face each other. Weedfoot says, “There will be other battles. It’s too dangerous out here!”]

---

The clouds that overtook the sunset brought a strong rain with them. It was the sort of rain that glued Weedfoot’s fur to her skin and turned the ground into slick mud. She helped Oilstripe, Scrubmask, and Parsley keep their footing as they made their way to the AshClan border. Downstar led the way, her soft and fluffy fur transformed into a soaked mess. The cold rain turned the world gray and nearly blinded Weedfoot. The only way Weedfoot could tell they were at the border was by the sight of those ever familiar trees with AshClan scratches lining the trunks.

“Mark as much of the border as you can!”  Downstar yowled as the sky rumbled.. “Be ready to challenge any AshClan cats you see!” 

“Downstar, the rain is going to wash away any scent we leave behind!” Oilstripe called, her belly fur sagging with water weight. 

“I know Autumnstar,” Downstar snapped, “you don’t! He won’t wait for the rain to pass to show his strength. If our scent isn’t fresh, he’s going to come here and claim our territory! We need to make a stand tonight! We’re walking the whole border tonight.” Downstar pushed past Oilstripe and marched along the border. Scrubmask looked half-drowned from the rain, but she dutifully searched for a spot to mark.

“If there’s one thing I miss about my old barn,” Parsley groaned, shaking herself out, “it’s the water-proof roof.” Her paws slid in the mud, but she followed after Downstar. Oilstripe pressed into Weedfoot as her dirty claws searched for solid ground.

“Weedfoot, I don’t like this,” Oilstripe gulped. She coughed out the ever-intrusive rain and said, “This is a big storm. It’s not safe to be out here!”

“Downstar’s right,” Weedfoot huffed. The mud sucked at her paws as she followed the rest of the patrol. “With what she’s said to Autumnstar, he’ll be looking to reclaim the territory we took from him. Fresh scent markers may deter him for a bit.”

“I can’t even smell you, Weedfoot!” Oilstripe whined. Her eyes bounced around as though searching for hidden enemies. “Weedfoot, if we stay here, I think one of us is going to die.”

“It’s just a storm, Oil,” Weedfoot promised, touching her nose to Oilstripe’s ear. Thunder grumbled once more as distant lightning flashed in the clouds. Oilstripe jumped into Weedfoot and nearly knocked her over.

“Weedfoot, do you trust me?” Oilstripe yowled.

“Always,” Weedfoot said immediately.

“Then get us home before something horrible happens,” Oilstripe snapped. Up ahead, Downstar and Scrubmask were marking the border. The rain disrupted their process, but they closed their eyes and pressed on. Weedfoot hurried through the mud, squinting as the wind blew the rain into her eyes.

“Downstar, let’s head back!” Weedfoot yowled.

“We’ve only marked a portion of the border!” Downstar snapped, turning her face against the wind. “If we don’t mark more of it, Autumnstar will swipe it for himself! Winter is coming, we need this land!”

“We have the entire ocean!” Weedfoot cried as lightning screamed somewhere in the distance. “We’ll have enough prey! It’s just land, Downstar! Storms like this send trees and mudslides down. We can’t get stuck here. Think of your kits!”

“I am!” Downstar yowled. Rain dripped from her face into her wild amber eyes. She hissed and shook out her pelt, but the water came right back. A new crack of thunder echoed through the Clans with such force that the entire patrol jumped. Downstar’s back arched as high as the Shiprock.

“There will be other battles,” Weedfoot promised, reaching a mud-soaked paw toward Downstar. “It’s too dangerous out here!”

“StarClan’s telling us to go back,” Oilstripe huffed, slipping beside Weedfoot.

“You aren’t a cleric, Oilstripe, you don’t know what StarClan wants,” Downstar hissed.

“I can guess!” Oilstripe yowled as more thunder roared overhead.

“Even the humans huddle inside in a storm like this, Ms. Downstar,” Parsley added, mud clinging to the back of her legs. “There’s no shame in it. Autumnstar’s a fool if he brings his cats out here, and I’m sorry, but you’d be a fool to make us stay.” Downstar’s back slowly smoothed out. The ground was more water than mud at that point. Downstar’s paws splashed rather than sunk into the ground. She stared at the puddle she found herself in.

“Then we’ll go home,” Downstar huffed. Her ears sunk as she turned away from the border. Oilstripe bolted ahead, any patrol decorum lost in the face of such a loud storm. Downstar took the hint and picked up the pace. Weedfoot helped Parsley and Scrubmask through the mud as her neck burned under the eyes of unseen AshClan warriors.

(Weedfoot: 64, female, deputy, charismatic, very clever, formidable fighter)

(Oilstripe: 19, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)

(Downstar: 74, female, leader, adventurous, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Parsley: 109, female, warrior, righteous, good speaker)

(Scrubmask: 32, female, warrior, gloomy, fast runner, good hunter)

Halibutpaw convinces his siblings to defend the border with him.

[Image ID: Shadowpaw, Graypaw, and Halibutpaw gather in the bottom left corner. Halibutpaw yowls “And stay out!” at a distant gray and white tom in the upper right corner.]

---

The storm a quarter moon prior made the territory look more like mid summer than early autumn. The rain and thunder had knocked the colored leaves off their trees, leaving only those still clinging to their green glory. The ground had finally dried, at least, allowing Halibutpaw and his littermates to journey across the territory with dry feet.

“Mom will be so mad at us when we get back,” Graypaw giggled, wiggling her flank.

“How can she be?” Halibutpaw scoffed. “This is our job.”

“Technically, it’s our jobs when we’re with our mentors,” Shadowpaw reminded him. He walked on Halibutpaw’s right and kept an eye out for other cats, AshClan or RippleClan. 

“Yes…” Halibutpaw admitted, dragging his back foot for emphasis, “but don’t you think they’ll be impressed if we can get some of our territory back?”

“Autumnstar may respect our gusto,” Shadowpaw said with a flick of his whiskers. “He seems like the sort to appreciate a move like this. It’s what he did to us during the storm.”

“We’re here!” Graypaw said. She ran in front of her brothers and eyed the land ahead. The siblings were partway through the forest northwest of camp. If Halibutpaw climbed a tree, he could probably see the old border, but it was too shrouded in shrubbery and trees to see from where he stood. AshClan scent drifted off each rock and stained the earth around them.

“According to Weedfoot,” Shadowpaw said, sniffing the new border, “this is where AshClan territory used to end before Mom founded RippleClan.”

“The patrol should have stuck around,” Graypaw huffed. She scratched at the grass. “If they hadn’t come back to camp, Autumnstar might not have moved the border.”

“They also might have died,” Halibutpaw groaned, one ear turned to Graypaw as he sniffed for fresh scent. “Either way, it’s the same; Mom starts moping around camp like she did right after Duskkit died.” For a few moments, Halibutpaw wondered what his older sister would have done had she become an apprentice. She probably would have suggested their little adventure days earlier. 

“Shadowpaw and I came up with this little trick a while back,” Graypaw said, trotting up to a tall fir. “It’s sunhigh, so whatever unfortunate soul Autumnstar picked for border patrol should be coming around any minute now. If we wait up here for them, we’ll show them we’re serious when we move the border.” Graypaw scurried up the fir, sending crumbs of bark tumbling after her. Shadowpaw was at her heels, and Halibutpaw climbed up a moment later. Graypaw and Shadowpaw delicately balanced on the thicker branches of the fir, studying the ground below, while Halibutpaw wrapped his paws around the branch and kept still. His tiny heart flew into his throat.

“Halibutpaw, even if you fall, you’ll land on your feet,” Shadowpaw scoffed.

“I know!” Halibutpaw huffed, staring dead ahead. “I just realized that I… don’t like heights.”

“Scaredy-mouse,” Graypaw sang, swaying her tail back and forth.

“I am not a scaredy-mouse,” Halibutpaw snapped. “Now stay focus! AshClan could be here any minute!”

“This is so exciting!” Graypaw cheered in a whisper. 

It didn’t take long for someone to appear. It was a silver and white tom with laurel leaves tucked into his fur. From the way his white pattern laid on him, it was like his front half was dipped in white dye.

“Anyone recognize him?” Halibutpaw whispered as his littermates noticed the new arrival.

“That’s Heronflank,” Shadowpaw explained. “He became a codekeeper last moon. I met him at the Gathering. He’s a nice tom. Maybe we should wait for someone else.” His paws shifted back.

“AshClan won’t be back here for ages!” Graypaw groaned. “We’re doing this.” She glared back at Shadowpaw, who stiffened and crouched along the branch. “Halibut, unclench!”

“I don’t think I can,” Halibutpaw gulped.

“Then you can just watch us,” Graypaw purred, eyeing Heronflank below like prey. The unassuming codekeeper carefully marked the new border, yawning as he did so. Graypaw and Shadowpaw danced on their feet, stalking closer and closer. Graypaw raised her tail high. Halibutpaw swallowed hard and slowly unpried his front legs from around the branch. His unsure paws dug into the wood. Before Halibutpaw could pry his feet up, Graypaw and Shadowpaw jumped from the tree.

The two gray tabbies landed on Heronflank before he realized what was happening. Heronflank yowled and screeched, batting at the two as Graypaw attached herself to his back. He smashed her into the fir trunk while Shadowpaw clawed at his side.

“Who’s a coward now?” Graypaw laughed as she fell off Heronflank. 

Heronflank spun and kicked Shadowpaw in the jaw. He pinned Graypaw down and bit into her scruff. Her scream ripped Halibutpaw’s feet off the branch. He launched off the tree, claws unseathed and eyes shut, yowling the whole way down. His claws struck something soft as they flailed. Heronflank screamed as Halibutpaw landed on all four paws in front of him. Halibutpaw inched an eye open as he processed the fact that he hadn’t died. A long claw wound ran down Heronflank’s right eye. Blood dripped into his eye and turned it from green-yellow to brown. Heronflank stumbled back, desperately blinking the blood out. He scrambled back into AshClan territory as the blood trickled down his jaw.

“And stay out!” Halibutpaw yowled, panting.

“Ha ha ha, yes!” Graypaw cheered. “We scared him off! Come on! Let’s move the border before he brings reinforcements!” Graypaw hurried over the border. Halibutpaw stared at his feet. Blood and fur stuck to one of his paws. 

“Did I just blind someone?” Halibutpaw gulped as Graypaw moved the border further into AshClan territory.

“AshClan has a good cleric,” Shadowpaw said, rubbing his chin on his shoulder. “Heronflank should be fine. Let’s help Graypaw before she yowls at us.” Shadowpaw joined Graypaw further into the trees. Halibutpaw rubbed his paw into the grass and ran after the others.

[Image ID: Parsley, Rustshade, Carnationspeckle, Oilstripe, and Burdockpaw stand in a line on the bottom half of the screen. In the upper half, in the distance, we see AshClan cats; Barkfur, Eelgrowl, Autumnstar, a ginger tom, and Bearchaser, in that order. Carnationspeckle says “StarClan, what did they do?”]

Halibutpaw, Graypaw, and Shadowpaw took a chunk out of AshClan’s new border, marking as much of it as they could. They made it all the way to the WheatClan border before Halibutpaw suggested they turn back. Sunhigh had passed, and the rest of RippleClan was certainly looking for them. 

“Do you think Rustshade will be impressed with me?” Shadowpaw asked.

“He’d be a fool not to!” Graypaw laughed. “Oh, did that bite draw blood earlier?” She lowered her head. Shadowpaw and Halibutpaw stared at her scruff.

“I think he bruised the skin,” Halibutpaw said. Graypaw groaned and kicked a small stone. Shadowpaw chuckled, but his ears perked up. 

“Do you two hear something?” Shadowpaw asked. Halibutpaw and Graypaw tilted their ears. Somewhere in the distance, voices yowled through the trees.

“Graypaw?” the voices called. “Shadowpaw? Halibutpaw? Anyone?”

“That’s Carnationspeckle,” Graypaw chirped. “Let’s tell her what we did!” 

As Graypaw preened in her imagined praise, shapes danced within the bushes. Halibutpaw dropped as figures ran through the trees toward Carnationspeckle’s cries. The brown molly herself slipped through the scrub with Parsley, Rustshade, Oilstripe, and Burdockpaw behind her.

“Halibutpaw?” Shadowpaw gulped. Before Halibutpaw could say anything, a wizened gray tom soared into view and collided with the patrol. Shadowpaw and Graypaw dropped as Autumnstar raced toward RippleClan with Eelgrowl, Barkfur, and a ginger tom thundering beside him.

“StarClan, what did they do?” Carnationspeckle yowled as she pulled the gray tom, Bearchaser, off Rustshade.

“My son was doing his job, you fox-hearts!” Bearchaser screeched. “You nearly blinded him!” Halibutpaw pressed his full body into the earth as AshClan collided with RippleClan. 

“Our first battle!” Graypaw gasped. “We need to help!” Autumnstar and Parsley locked into each other’s shoulders. Burdockpaw faced down Barkfur and held his focus as Oilstripe attacked from the side. Bearchaser turned on Carnationspeckle and slammed her head down.

“You realize Bearchaser fought an actual bear?” Halibutpaw hissed. “Do you know what he might do if he sees me?”

“We can’t stay here!” Graypaw huffed. 

“You’re not going to.” The three gray apprentices yelped and spun around. Rustshade loomed over them, a tuft of fur torn off his shoulder.

“How did you get over here so fast?” Shadowpaw stammered.

“We’re going back to camp, now,” Rustshade hissed. He pulled Shadowpaw to his feet.

“But the others!” Halibutpaw gulped.

“They’ll handle it!” Rustshade snapped. “You’re not ready for this. Hunter’s crouch, all of you. Stay low and stay quiet.” Rustshade dropped into a low crouch and glared at the apprentices. Slowly, each one copied the ginger codekeeper. He shoved them forward and kept his eyes locked on their identical pelts as they snuck away from the disaster of their own creation.

(Halibutpaw: 7, male, warrior apprentice, impulsive, quick witted, lover of stories)

(Graypaw: 7, female, caretaker apprentice, bloodthirsty, careful listener)

(Shadowpaw: 7, male, codekeeper apprentice, adventurous, confident with words)

(Carnationspeckle: 17, female, caretaker, compassionate, talented swimmer)