With the fight over, and the day fading, ThunderClan was content to retreat into their dens until night woke them again. Firestar noted with some humor that the Clan collectively rose well after the moon was in the sky, instead of right when the stars appeared.

Firestar ate his breakfast of rat, and the fact that he could actually taste it and feel the texture was still such a novelty to him. Even more marvelous was that the aura of unease that his Clanmates had borne every time they so much as looked at him was dissipating with every greeting nod he gave them or jokey response to a comment they made. Faces turned relieved, tails raised and curled, and Greystripe and Ravenwing sat beside him with faint purrs in their throats. They didn’t talk, but the three could eat together as they had so many times before… everything.

That “everything” felt so much smaller and easier now that the Fury part was resolved.

Well. It wasn’t resolved perfectly and completely. But Firestar had faith in Brick.

Still, Firestar had the sense to send out patrols to check each border and be sure the scent of Aulmir cats had faded. And it had! Even three or four days later, any trace of stray was gone. Firestar even chanced a peek into the neighborhood just to be sure—and while traps still sat waiting for any stragglers, the Houses’ occupants were almost entirely kittypets again. Brick or Fury must have convinced everyone to come back to the Aulmir with them.

A few nights passed, blissfully uneventful, before Frostfur came into the mostly empty camp with a tense face, Mousefur alongside her. Firestar stood as they approached and inclined his head to invite them to speak.

“There’s a WindClan cat on the border,” Frostfur said. “He says he’s a friend of yours, and Rookstar’s asking for you and Barley to come to their camp.”

“Oh!” Firestar perked up. “The Barn must be ready, then. Where’s Barley?”

“Here,” the patched tom called from his seat beside Teaselfoot. He crossed camp to stand at Firestar’s side.

Firestar said to the mollies, “We’ll head out now. Let Dustpelt know we’re fine. Did the cat ask for any additional warriors?” When they shook their heads, he said to Barley, “Rookstar’s confident then, and so am I. Are you ready to go home?”

Barley’s ears folded back and a steely look shone in his eyes. “More than I ever will be.”

With a nod to the mollies, Firestar called to the few cats in camp, “I’ll send a messenger to let you know when I’ll be home!” He wasted no more time, just set out with Barley in tow. A few cats called goodbyes to Barley.

They moved quickly and in silence, reaching the border to greet Wrenwhisker, who was sitting politely outside of the forest and waiting. His face was as deadpan as ever. Firestar didn’t miss the faint glint of nervousness in his eyes, even so.

“Good to see you!” Firestar said, the brightness inflected a bit heavily to ease his friend. “Are we sure we don’t need any additional warriors from ThunderClan?”

Infinitesimally, Wrenwhisker’s body relaxed. “Not that many rogues left. WindClan will be enough.”

“Then let’s get over there, and get my Barn back,” Barley said with the barest hint of a growl.

Wrenwhisker nodded, turned and set off at a trot. Firestar and Barley followed, tails high.

Taking the opportunity, Firestar picked up his pace until he was alongside the brown tom, keeping his voice low. “I’m sorry I’ve been so rude with you and Rainpath recently. I was… well, I…”

“Weren’t doing well,” Wrenwhisker murmured back. “I know. Didn’t take it personally.” He paused, then blinked slowly. “You look better.”

Firestar blinked back. “I am better. Thank you.”

They were quiet again, and it was so much more comfortable than any silence had been in months. Firestar looked around as they crossed the neutral grounds, and could pick out individual grass blades and appreciate the soft breeze curling through his fur and gently pushing his tail side-to-side.

Funny how many details the world had when one was truly awake.

Barley caught up to them and chattered here and there to Wrenwhisker, remarking about the trees of the forest and how he’d never known how many types of animals there were in the world until he’d seen ThunderClan’s prey-pile, and so on. Wrenwhisker offered quiet responses of “hmm” and “doesn’t the Barn have bats, sometimes?”. Firestar tuned in once in a while, moreso delighting in the feel of grass under his feet and the scent of heather that announced the crossing into moorland territory.

When they made it to WindClan’s camp, Rookstar stood waiting in silence. He studied Firestar, eyes slightly narrowed, before saying flatly, “Good to see you.”

Firestar bowed his head respectfully. “You, too. I hope we’re not late.”

“Right on time, really.” He flicked his black-and-white tail at a familiar, hairy-faced brown apprentice. “Dustpaw just heard shouting on a patrol. Came from the Barn. Think we got them ready to be chased off.”

Barley’s own tail, more black than white, lashed.

“We should go now, then?” Firestar asked.

Rookstar grunted in agreement. With another flick, the tall, wiry warriors and apprentices of WindClan gathered around their leader, silent and grim. Rookstar took the lead, Firestar walking close to his shoulder and Barley by Firestar’s, as they started through the tall grass, all tails leveled or low—presumably so they wouldn’t stick out above the grass, Firestar figured.

The hedge blocking the Barn from the moorland stood as green and vibrant as ever… but through it, indistinct arguing could be heard. Firestar grimaced and followed Rookstar quietly.

“This is insane,” someone said. “Let’s just go, already—”

“Where is there to go?!” a tom shouted. “Town’s a disaster, past that is full of maniacs, we don’t know what there is beyond that cave—”

A panicked molly’s voice now. “I can’t leave! Not without my kittens!”

“We aren’t leaving you or them,” another voice said firmly. “Claw, there’s got to be something we can do…”

A brief silence, then someone else said, “I smell cats.”

Just then, WindClan’s warriors curved around the corner of the doorway into the Barn, and came to a stop. They filled out the entire doorway, making a border that couldn’t be crossed without a fight.

Firestar’s heart broke at the sight of the interior. It wasn’t a Clan’s worth of strangers, looming and ready for war. A cluster of no more than pel* cats immediately bunched together, eyes wide and bodies hunched like they were expecting to die right there. In the center of the clump was a blue molly, huddling over what looked like a litter of kittens.

Two familiar faces made Firestar’s stomach knot: the black-and-white twins were at the back of the group, like kits hiding behind their mother. Any semblance of intimidation was completely gone the instant their eyes caught Barley and the one with an underbite cowered even harder.

“Barley!” he said in a jittery, appeasing voice. “Why are you– why are you here with Clan cats?”

Barley’s muzzle wrinkled. “We’re taking my Barn back, and you’re hightailing it if you want to come out unscathed.”

Firestar rested his tail on Barley’s side to quiet him. To the Aulmir cats, he said, “Which one of you is Claw?”

A bulky ginger tom slowly stood up straight. “That– that’s me. Who—?”

“I know him!” the other twin hissed, not quietly enough to avoid being overheard. “He’s the one that killed Scourge!”

Claw’s entire body froze, his fur along his back flaring. He didn’t look angry, to Firestar’s surprise; “terrified” was a better descriptor.

“We’re not here to kill any of you,” Firestar said gently, matching their frightened-kit aura with a soothing-mother tone. “I’m sure the owls have done enough of that.”

“I knew it!” The blue molly jumped up, tail bristling. “The owls, it was you hill-cats that did it! You sent them, didn’t you?!”

Rookstar spoke now, flat as usual. “Called in a favor from some friends. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

“We don’t have anywhere else to go!” a brown-and-white tom said desperately. “And– and we have kittens, you wouldn’t—”

“You could leave them.” Rookstar’s tail grazed the ground in a sweep. “Your old thug leader wasn’t the only one who accepts strangers’ kits.”

The tom’s head lowered, ears back. “They stay with us.”

“Then you better learn how to carry them quick.” Rookstar met his stare, unimpressed.

The underbite twin turned to Barley. “Speak for us, come on! We’re your family—”

“Well, ain’t that funny?” Barley snapped. “As I recall, blood wasn’t good for anything. Certainly not good enough to keep me in my home, was it?”

It was mean, but some part of Firestar flickered with dark amusement as the tom shrank back even more. A bigger part drove him to speak again.

“Listen,” he said calmly. “Claw, do you know a molly named Fury?”

Claw’s ears straightened again and he stood slightly taller.

“She’s pretty devastated that you’re gone,” Firestar continued. “She thinks humans took you away. It drove her mad enough to attack ThunderClan.” He gave the tom a sad look. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell her you were leaving, and maybe you didn’t need to.”

Claw’s face turned conflicted.

Firestar gave him a friendly blink to try and cool down the tense air. “She and Brick are setting up a proper colony in the Aulmir. They’ll be taking as many cats as will join them to build something that works for the benefit of everyone, not just a few bullies at the top. You could go and help them, if you want. Or you could try your luck in the world beyond the territories. Cats come from there all the time, don’t they? It can’t be all that bad.”

“Either way, you’re leaving here,” Rookstar said. “Non-negotiable.”

Barley nodded, his face discolored by a deep scowl.

The brown-and-white tom’s tail shook a little as he spoke to Claw. “There’s nothing in town but traps and death. We can’t go there.”

Claw didn’t answer him. He instead slowly looked at Rookstar, squinting a bit.

There was a small pause, before Claw stood up straighter. “Clan leader, you see kemeran pass through here?”

“All the time,” Rookstar said. “Heading south or west to the Aulmir.”

“And…” Claw spoke hesitantly. “They seem well-fed?”

Hope lit up Firestar’s chest.

Rookstar nodded once. “Well-fed, well-groomed. They travel with kits, too. Could be worth a try.”

The blue molly reached over and pulled at Claw’s leg-fur until he looked at her. “I can’t go far, even if we did leave.”

“You are leaving,” Deadfoot said from the left side of Rookstar. At this, a few WindClanners took a small step forward, ears back.

Firestar spoke up again. “Maybe you could take some of your old neighbors with you. Let Fury know you’re alive, too.”

Claw didn’t answer him, but he asked Rookstar, “Will you call off your owls if we leave? They won’t follow us wherever we go?”

“They’ve done their job.” Rookstar rolled a shoulder apathetically. “You’re good to go.”

“So long as you go,” Barley added sourly. “And you see if I ever let any of you near my Barn again. All my work to host you and this is how you…”

Mid-rant, he caught Firestar’s warning look and fell silent.

Claw took a moment to look at his companions. They all looked back at him, desperate for his judgement call. Claw looked back at the WindClan cats, took in a breath, and sighed.

“We’ll go,” he said. “We’ll head east. You won’t hear from us again. Just– tell those owls to leave us be, and we’ll go as far as we can, I promise.”

Barley nodded with satisfaction.

Rookstar lowered his chin, narrowed eyes on Claw’s face, scrutinizing. He seemed satisfied enough to flick a paw and say, “Off you go, then.”

“Now?!” the blue molly said, outraged and frightened at once.

“Now.” Rookstar waved his tail slowly. “Don’t make us escort you out.”

Many claws flashed, catching the glint of the lights outside the Barn.

“But—” the molly started.

“Minty,” Claw said quietly. “We’re going. Jumper, Hoot, Snapper, each of you take a kit. Minty, you get the last.”

Minty opened her mouth to protest, but sighed and hung her head. The patched toms, looking intensely uncomfortable at the idea of holding kittens, stepped forward to her side. One-by-one, Minty set a kit in front of them, and they more-or-less gently held them by the scruff, even as they squealed in protest.

“I’m sorry,” Firestar said to Minty. “It’s hard to walk with kits. But you’ll be okay.”

Minty gave him a dirty look before taking the last kitten in her mouth. Claw turned and started for the other entryway in the Barn, which was only half-open now. His remaining cats followed him, tails low and ears folded. The kits’ squeals and mews faded slowly, and no one spoke until then.

It was Barley who broke the silence, turning to Firestar and Rookstar with a pleasant face again. “I hope that’s the end of it. From now on, I’m minding the manners of the cats that come here. I ain’t planning to be ousted again.”

“Just holler our way,” Rookstar said. He turned and started away from the Barn. “Paletail, Deerstep, stay here until you can’t smell or see those cats anymore. Come running if they return.”

Two mollies—one pale grey, one brown—nodded and moved to join Barley as he walked further into the Barn, his eyes shining and tail high. The rest of the warriors and apprentices followed after Rookstar.

“Good luck!” Firestar called to Barley as he went to join Rookstar. “And welcome home!”

“Thanks for hosting me, lad!” Barley called back.

Firestar had to trot fast to catch up to his senior, and was the first to pass through the hedge. He stopped and waited for Rookstar to join him.

“I’m glad that resolved peacefully,” he said. “I suppose you didn’t need me to be there, though I appreciate the invite.”

Rookstar’s yellow eyes slid to look down at Firestar, without his head turning. “You got to them better than I did. Compassion’s a useful tool.” Ever-so-slightly, his eyes creased. “And I’m sure you do care.”

A small purr escaped Firestar, and he looked forward with a curled tail. “Then I’m happy to help. I hope they’ll be okay.”

“They’ll be alright,” Rookstar said, and paused. “You said Brick is making a colony?”

“Oh!” Firestar perked up. “Yes, I didn’t tell you. So we got news that those rogues were planning to attack us, and…”

Firestar’s voice was the only sound in the moorland, his story animated and eager. He didn’t feel eyes on his back once.

Mistfoot and Dustpelt ceased whatever conversation they were having as their leaders approached them. Dustpelt turned sharply and stood at attention, while Mistfoot slowly got to her feet and waved her short tail at Leopardstar.

“We’ve been discussing what our plan should be with the rogues,” Dustpelt said. “Mistfoot suggested we have scouts set up to catch their arrival before they get all the way here.”

Mistfoot nodded, her round face alight with amused eagerness. “I figure those flops won’t know how to sneak through a forest like this. We won’t need more than one scout, if we have someone from ThunderClan watching the border.”

“Except if they try to invade from some other border,” Dustpelt added.

Firestar looked at Leopardstar. “Teaselfoot’s used to that line of work. I think he’d be perfect for it.”

Leopardstar tilted her head thoughtfully, her grouchiness gone. “They could come from the road or down by the river. We need enough time to prepare for a fight, whenever they arrive. That could be in the middle of the day, or late in the night. We won’t know for sure.”

“I can speak with Cinderpelt and see if she has anything for us.” Firestar looked around and caught sight of Cinderpelt and Tornface talking with a couple patched mollies. “Give me a moment.”

“We’ll come with you,” Mistfoot said. “Easier for all of us to hear it.”

“Sure thing.” Firestar led the way over to the conversation, tail high.

Cinderpelt chuffed at something the cream-and-white molly said, but as her eyes drifted and noticed Firestar and his entourage, she stood and, with a quick “Pardon me”, limped up to meet them halfway.

“We just need any more information that you can give about the rogues,” Firestar said. “If you know where they’re coming from, or how many there’ll be…”

Cinderpelt shut her eyes for a moment, humming like she was trying to focus. After a moment, she winced and opened them back up with a grimace.

“Well,” she said, “I know that someone is going to die today.”

Fear and regret froze Firestar down to his bones. “…Who?”

“That I wasn’t told.” Cinderpelt must have seen something on his face, because she added hastily, “It could be anyone! It doesn’t have to be someone from ThunderClan– or RiverClan,” she tacked on at a stern stare from Leoprdstar. “It was a broken rock that I saw. That doesn’t mean… er… I’ll stop talking.”

“Not just yet, my sweet seer,” Mistfoot said lightly, though her expression was uneasy. “Do you know what time of day they’ll come?”

Cinderpelt looked grateful for the change of topic, slight though it was. “The rock was being shone on, so I’m sure it’ll be during the day. I suggest you let everyone rest now so we’ll all be awake for their arrival.”

“Good idea,” Leopardstar said, a tiny bit stiffly. “Firestar?”

“I’ll tell the Clans.” Firestar trotted for the meeting stump, the others in tow.

The announcement was short and to-the-point; Firestar instructed everyone to get their meals and naps in now, which no one seemed to have a complaint with. What they didn’t like as much was his final order.

“No one is to try and kill anyone,” he said, with severe emphasis. “Scare them out, but try to restrain Fury if you can. She has one eye and a half-ear. I think we can convince her to leave us be for good if we talk.”

Leopardstar made a face, thankfully saying nothing. Cats of both Clans muttered, but no one raised their voice.

Teaselfoot was sent out to watch the Houses’ border, and when the meeting was over, Firestar went over to Barley and Brick, who were sitting together and talking quietly.

“You two can stay out of this fight if you’d like,” he said to them. “Fighting your own could be tough, and Barley, I know you have nothing to do with this…”

But Barley shook his head firmly. “Y’all are letting me stay here for nothing. The least I could do is offer what muscle I have.”

“I’ll fight, too,” Brick agreed. “I’ve got something to say to Fury, myself.”

Firestar nodded in acknowledgement. “We appreciate your help, all of us. Get some rest.”

Perhaps out of courtesy, ThunderClan warriors stayed outside, curling up alongside RiverClan cats in the sand instead of retreating to the dens. Some apprentices whispered to each other and were told to hush. Firestar himself laid down by Greystripe and Ravenwing, the pair of them shuffling in front of and beside him, as if to block anyone from seeing him. Firestar marveled at how easily he fell asleep, surrounded by his friends.

When he woke, someone was prodding him, saying his name loudly. He blinked, eyes wanting to stay shut against the strong daylight and body wanting to spread out on the warm sand. When he could see properly, Teaselfoot was withdrawing a paw, tail lashing.

“They’re coming,” he said.

Firestar jumped to his feet immediately. Cats around him were raising their heads and getting up at those two words, Leopardstar among the first.

“Keep the nursery and elders’ den safe!” Firestar called to the rising cats near those dens.

Goldenflower flexed her claws and growled, using her body to fully block the way into the nursery. Beside her, Aspencloud folded her ears back and narrowed her eyes.

Firestar swiveled his own ears, trying to track how close the gang was. It took a few long moments for the shifting of ferns and the smell of the Aulmir to reach his senses; the blatantness of both made his heart clench in pity. These cats had no idea what they were doing.

Don’t let anyone die, he told himself. Not again. Not today.

Someone hissed a command just outside the entrance. In a heartbeat, with a screech of warfare, Fury burst into camp, teeth bared and eye blazing. Instantly, she skidded to a halt, eye now pale in shock and fear, but her followers shoved past her with challenging yowls. They, too, seemed to realize their mistake very quickly. Some of them at the front tried to turn around, but the crowd of rogues kept them from going anywhere but forward.

ThunderClan and RiverClan charged, yowling themselves. Firestar couldn’t do anything; Greystripe was standing in front of him and Ravenwing was swinging at the first cat that approached. Firestar was almost shoved towards the meeting stump, camp quickly becoming crowded with fighters.

“Find Fury!” Firestar shouted to Greystripe. “Don’t let her leave camp! I’ll be fine!”

“Like blazes you will!” Greystripe shouted back. “Stay behind me!”

Truthfully, Firestar would take any excuse not to fight, but he wanted this battle finished quickly. He turned to Ravenwing to give the same order. A single deadpan glance from his friend kept his mouth closed.

Screams of pain and anger drowned out even the harsh sunlight from Firestar’s senses. He jumped onto the meeting stump to get a better look at the battle, and instantly his tail lowered onto the ground.

It wasn’t even fair; the rogues were swinging haphazardly and screeching to sound much more frightening than they were, but they were still thin and untrained. Meanwhile, ThunderClan swatted away any who approached and RiverClanners grabbed any rogue near them and pulled them to the ground with their heavier weight, rabbit-kicking their stomachs viciously. Firestar had to look away, instead focusing on finding Fury.

She had somehow made her way deep into camp, fighting by the elders’ den. Three cats—Dustpelt, Mistfoot, and Privetclaw—had surrounded her and backed her into the log that made up the den. Her back was arched and she seemed to be spitting curses, swiping at them but not able to get away.

Good, Firestar thought. We have a chance with her.

A brown tabby rogue finally noticed where Firestar was, and leaped to land on the stump. Midair, Mousefur crashed into him and the two went rolling to the side. Firestar watched Mousefur dig her claws into the tom’s face and cut open an eye. The tom cried out in pain, shook himself free from her, and sprinted out of camp.

He wasn’t the only one. Fury’s followers were starting to fight their way back towards the entrance tunnel, accepting claws and bites and kicks in the name of getting away. One tortoiseshell tried a parting blow on Greystripe and was slapped hard enough to send her rolling away. She got up and ran immediately.

“Cowards!” Fury screamed at the retreating rogues. “All of you! Come back and fight!”

Only a few cats had stayed, because they were all pinned down. Most of them had the good sense to not struggle, though one blue molly was squirming under Leopardstar’s feet.

Firestar looked around camp and his eyes caught a sorry sight. A ginger cat was on the ground in front of Goldenflower, his life ebbing from his throat. His mother had just lifted her head away from him, bloodied muzzle still wrinkled and breath more of a hiss than a gasp. Aspencloud had her head inside the nursery, saying something soothing to the cats inside.

At least it wasn’t one of us, Firestar’s mind tried to say chipperly. Damp darkness clouded that thought and he let himself grieve the loss regardless.

“Is everyone alright?” he called after a moment.

Scattered confirmations and hums answered him.

“Please bring Fury here,” he said to Dustpelt, and he jumped down off the stump.

Dustpelt, Mistfoot, and Privetclaw surrounded Fury and started pushing her along towards Firestar. Fury looked ready to kill all of them, but she had the sense to just follow, her head low and ears against her skull.

“That was utterly pathetic.” Leopardstar came to stand by Firestar, eyes glinting with contempt as she spoke to Fury. “That was the best you had? That titchy gang was what you chose to come to ThunderClan camp with?”

Firestar gently rested his tail on Leopardstar’s side. When she looked at him, he gave her a kind but stern warning gaze, and she fell silent.

Fury was now in front of both of them, half-crouched and eye darting from side to side, like she was expecting more violence.

“It’s time to let this go,” Firestar said softly. “This resurrection of the Blood isn’t going to happen, and the Clans aren’t going anywhere.”

“What do you know, murderer?” Fury spat, her tail lashing. “I have the entirety of town on my side!”

“And yet you got maybe sot* wretches to fight for you,” Leopardstar snorted. “All of which gave up the instant they were outnumbered.”

Fury growled at her, but said nothing. Her furious eye went back to Firestar.

“I don’t want anyone else dead,” he said. “I didn’t even want Scourge to die. This should never have happened—his rise or your suffering.” He had to fight to keep his voice raised, his awareness of the cats around him watching him miniscule. “I’ve seen how it is in the Aulmir, and I’m sorry that it’s so—”

“You did this!” Fury yelled. “You murdered him and now humans are taking us away! Killing us! Changing us! They wouldn’t even look at us until you Clan cats ruined everything!” Every hair was bristled on her body. “Everything we did, everything we can’t take back - you ruined it! Don’t you dare try to say ‘sorry’ like that fixes anything!”

Her voice was lightning-loud and lightning-sharp… but it was shaky, too. When she set her eye on Firestar again, it was wet with grief.

“And now—” She swallowed. “And now my Claw is gone! He disappeared! The humans took him!”

Mild surprise clicked something in Firestar’s head. Soothingly, he said, “Claw’s alive.”

Fury blinked, caught off-guard.

“He’s left the Aulmir himself with a group of cats,” Firestar continued. “I don’t know what he aims to do from here, but I know he’s alive.” Hopefully remains alive, if the owls don’t get him.

Fury hesitated, her tone still angry, but almost a drop of desperation in it, too. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Check my bloody Barn,” Barley said, coming up from the side of the crowd now surrounding the conversation. His face and shoulders were scratched up, but he didn’t limp. “Some of you idiots took my home from me. He was one of them.”

Fury stared at him, saying nothing.

Firestar continued. “Some cats have left for a better life outside of the Aulmir. But I think there could be a better life there for those who stay.” He kept his voice calm and supportive. “I can see that you have the skill to gather followers. You could create a new colony, one that would benefit everyone by working together and not just looking out for themselves.”

“What, like you?” Fury growled, but that desperation was leaking even more into her voice. “How do I know that’ll work?”

“It can and it will.”

Firestar blinked, looking to his right. Brick, his ear cut and nose scratched, wove around past Barley to step up to Fury directly.

“I’ve seen it in my time here,” he continued. “These Clans may be a little pious—if you’ll excuse me, Firestar—but they’ve got a system here that’s kept them alive and thriving for more generations than anyone here can count.” He straightened up, tail high over his bald back. “I think there’s something to it that we could follow.”

“‘We’?” Fury looked at him with a narrowed eye.

Brick nodded. “I’ll come with you back to the Aulmir and set up a colony with a system for whoever wants to try it out.”

Several ThunderClan cats murmured in surprise.

“Y’all have taught me quite a bit,” Brick said to them, turning his head this way and that. “And I’m pretty confident that what I’ve learned about a proper group here can work anywhere. Or, at least, I’m willing to give it a test run.” He looked back at Fury. “What do you think? Want to build a better life, or would you prefer to keep going for revenge until you die?”

The rogues that hadn’t left were slowly getting to their feet as their opponents let them rise. The blue molly took a step forward and raised her voice, hesitant as it was. “I think it’s worth a try, Fury.”

Fury didn’t respond to her. Her eye was flicking back and forth as she thought. Slowly, her claws retracted into her toes.

“Whoever sees you again might want you dead,” she said to Brick.

Brick rolled a shoulder. “If they kill me, they kill me. But if I’m with you, they might be inclined to listen before slitting my throat. At the very least, I can explain what I’ve got in mind, so you can tell them after I die.”

There was a moment of silence where Fury looked around herself at the strangers surrounding her—oddly, with a mixture of resentment and curiosity. The Clans politely let her think, everyone quiet until she finally spoke.

“It’ll be on you if we fail,” she said to Brick.

Brick slanted his head with some amusement. “I’ll take the fall, don’t you worry.”

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Firestar asked him. “You’re welcome to stay…”

“We’ve been trying to figure out a solution to this problem since I got here,” Brick replied. “I’m not keen to let an opportunity to test one slip by. I do thank you for letting me live here, all of you, but I’m a street cat at heart. I might as well try to make my old home better.”

Firestar nodded respectfully. “Feel free to come by the border and ask for help. I’m happy to give it.”

Fury raised her voice, looking around for her followers. “Then we’ll go. I better not see a single ThunderClan cat in my territory for the rest of my life.”

“We wouldn’t dream of going back there,” Mousefur said dryly.

Brick turned to her. “You could, if you wanted.”

Mousefur squinted at him in mild confusion.

“The Aulmir could use a cat like you,” Brick elaborated, tail curling. “I know your company would be more than welcome.”

Mousefur snorted. “Don’t even joke.”

“Who said I was joking?” Brick’s voice leaned towards softness.

Unfortunately for him, Mousefur did not take the cue. She just shook her head, saying in her casual tone, “The forest is the only place for me. I hope you all do well out there.”

“As you like,” Brick said with another shoulder-roll, but Firestar saw the disappointment in his eyes. He turned rather quickly to Fury. “Let’s mosey. Help me carry the fellow over there.”

“Pounce?” Fury said, sounding surprised. “Why? He’s dead.”

“Another fun little thing they do around here,” Brick explained, “is respect the deceased. We can find a place to set him down to rest in. Give him some dignity.”

Fury glanced at the blue molly, who nodded, and said, “Fine. Come on.” To Firestar, she added, “We won’t need an escort out of your territory. We’re not coming back.”

Firestar dipped his head respectfully. “Let us know if you ever get in trouble and need help.”

Fury twitched her lip, but walked over with Brick to the tom with the torn throat. Goldenflower, thankfully, let them approach and haul the tom over both of their shoulders. The remaining rogues, surprised and wary, joined up with them, looking back and forth like they were expecting another attack. The Clan cats said nothing as they went through the entrance tunnel. Slowly, their shuffling of the undergrowth of the forest faded.

“They’ll come back,” Leopardstar said to Firestar. “I’m sure of it.”

“We’ll see,” Firestar said lightly. “But I think it’ll be okay.”

Leopardstar rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You’re too soft on them.”

“Softness is what they need,” Firestar replied. “They’ve had entirely too much of a hard life. Why not treat them kindly?”

Leopardstar scoffed under her breath, even if she looked more amused than doubtful. “Whatever you say.”

Goldenflower stood up with her tail curled. It surprised Firestar that it was so easy now to follow her, standing and setting off for camp at a trot. The sagging weights in his legs and head seemed to have dropped off completely. He could breathe again.

It was nice.

They arrived in a comfortable silence, just as most cats were retreating to their dens to sleep. Dustpelt, surprisingly, was home, sitting in the center of camp and kneading the sand uneasily. When he caught sight of Firestar, he rushed over, tail bristling in distress.

“There you are,” he said in a rushed-out breath. “They said you went out with Goldenflower, but you were gone so long, I nearly took a patrol to find you—”

“I’m sorry.” Firestar gave him a calming blink. “I was resting. How did the meeting with RiverClan go?”

A series of starts at a response passed by in a heartbeat: opened mouth, closed mouth, tilted head, squint, opened mouth again, then Dustpelt cleared his throat before saying, “When I got to their border, they invited me to their camp to talk with Leopardstar personally. It sounded like their seer has been dreaming of a battle, but didn’t know where it was happening. Until I showed up, that is.”

Firestar blinked and squinted a little himself.

“Mudcloud—their seer—he said that a holy fury is landing in the forest,” Dustpelt elaborated. “When I explained about our Fury on the border, he insisted that Leopardstar take RiverClan’s warriors and assist ThunderClan in a coming battle. Right in our camp, he guessed.”

Goldenflower stiffened, her claws flashing in the dawn.

Firestar stayed calm, much more easily than he had in two months. “Have you talked to Cinderpelt about this?”

“No. I was waiting for you to come home so we could all discuss it together.”

Firestar mulled this over for a moment. “Does it seem like we have time to wait until tomorrow evening?”

“Well…” Dustpelt fidgeted. “I think so, but…”

Firestar lifted his tail to gently quiet him. “Let’s get some rest, and we’ll talk first thing tomorrow. It’s been a long night.”

His deputy didn’t look entirely pleased with this, but his eyes flicked over to Goldenflower as she was passing him. She shot him a warning glare and he promptly nodded to Firestar, saying, “Of course.”

Firestar twitched his whiskers and walked with him to the warriors’ den. All but two familiar nests were taken by sleeping cats. Dustpelt curled up in his, and Firestar, finally, settled with ease in Thornclaw’s. He didn’t expect that he would fall asleep again, but the warmth of the den and the soft breaths of his Clanmates soothed him back into slumber.

He dreamed of nothing. What bliss.

The evening arrived, and was greeted first by Firestar. He slipped out of the den, stretching a bit more than he actually had to just to feel the intense relief of no longer being trapped by seemingly permanent exhaustion. When was the last time he’d groomed himself while actually paying attention?

Was it right for him to feel this much better, even when nothing had really changed? Scourge was still dead. Firestar had still killed him. The Aulmir cats were still suffering. None of that went away because he had grieved.

At the very least, he reasoned to himself, I can be more helpful with a clearer head. More productive now that I’ve actually slept. I don’t have to just focus on how miserable I am.

That would do for now.

First things first, though.

He sat near the meeting stump with the first thing he plucked off the top of the prey-pile (a mole, how lovely!). It was nice to be able to actually taste what he was eating again. He relished in the chewy feet like it was his first meal in months.

He was done and well on his way to grooming out his entire pelt when the ferns behind the stump shifted, and a familiar uneven gait shuffled through the sand.

“There you are,” Cinderpelt said warmly, as soon as she passed the stump and caught sight of Firestar. Her bushy tail, crooked at the tip, waved in delight. “Good to see you again.”

Firestar’s eyes creased in fondness. “I think I might be back, thanks to Mira.”

“I’ll take any return that I can get.” Cinderpelt limped to the prey-pile and grabbed a pigeon before joining Firestar and plopping down next to him. “Your eyes are back to burning. I missed that.”

With a twitch of his whiskers, Firestar lowered himself to lounge beside his seer. They said nothing more while Cinderpelt noisily attacked her meal, but it was nice. Even with the snarfs and hacks Yellowfang had passed on to her apprentice breaking the silence.

Dustpelt was next to awaken. He stepped out of the warriors’ den, a bit of moss still clinging to his shoulder, and didn’t bother going for any breakfast; as soon as his eyes caught the other two authorities, he hastened over to them, stopping right in front of Firestar to stand as tall and rigid as possible.

“Firestar,” he said, brisk and businesslike as usual. “Are we ready to talk?”

“We are.” Firestar gestured for him to sit down.

He did, but his tail still stuck out straight behind him as he began with, “RiverClan is doing fine. They don’t have any rogues on their borders. But Mudcloud was worried about us when he told me that he expected a battle in our camp.”

Cinderpelt frowned. “And you didn’t tell me about that?”

“Er—” Dustpelt shrank a little. “Firestar, he—”

“We can discuss it now,” Firestar said to Cinderpelt, easing her frown. “Dustpelt, please tell Cinderpelt exactly what Mudcloud said.”

“Well…” Dustpelt straightened again, chest puffed out a little at the arrival of an order. “When I got to their camp, I explained to Leopardstar that we had troubles of our own at the Houses border. Mudcloud was just leaving a den when I was speaking, and he hurried over to me. He talked about that ‘holy fury landing in our forest’, and when I mentioned Fury to him, he turned to Leopardstar and said, ‘We must be ready to assist Firestar. Prepare our warriors for a fight in camp.’”

“In our camp?” Cinderpelt stared. “How did StarClan not tell me about this? For Rokhar’s sake…”

“I suppose they must’ve told Mudcloud, so the message would get to us either way,” Dustpelt said. “But Leopardstar agreed to send assistance once we asked for it.”

“That was kind of her.” Firestar looked at Cinderpelt. “Is there any way you can communicate with StarClan now, and get an idea of when we’ll need the help?”

Dustpelt shuffled his feet. “I don’t know if we should take assistance just to be in RiverClan’s debt. We’re capable warriors, the best fighters in the territories—”

Firestar fixed him with a deadpan look. “Please recall the amount of times we’ve helped RiverClan and asked nothing of them. They were living in our territory for half a month, just a little while ago. And if Fury is bringing the fight to us, I don’t expect she’ll come with just a couple cats. If we want this to resolve itself as quickly as possible, having another Clan to fight with us will be important.” He purred in amusement at Dustpelt’s sheepish face. “And even if they technically didn’t owe us, we’re neighbors. We should do what we can to keep each other alive and well, no matter what piece of useless land we’re quibbling over.”

“He’s got us there,” Cinderpelt said. “And now is the best time to be in their debt, if they consider it so. All of RiverClan likes our leader, remember? They’ll be jumping at the chance to save his skinny butt from an angry rogue.”

A snort escaped Dustpelt and he blinked like he hadn’t expected it. “…I suppose so, yes.”

“We’ll be fine,” Firestar promised. “Have faith in our fellow cats.”

---

The night went on, and Cinderpelt retreated to her ferns to speak with StarClan. She came back a stretch of time later, grim-faced and with a twitching tail.

“Tomorrow night,” she said, before Firestar could ask. “Let’s get RiverClan over here quickly.” She hissed through her teeth. “Damn Darkstripe and his secret-spilling. Did he want all of us to get killed?”

Probably, Firestar thought. He couldn’t be too angry, though. He still remembered the tail and teeth.

The Clan was outraged at the news of a battle reaching their home, and less than enthusiastic about RiverClan’s assistance. Firestar managed to keep everyone cooled down with the assurance that no, RiverClan wouldn’t lord their help over ThunderClan, and no, ThunderClan wasn’t going to lose anybody, not with an entire extra Clan’s worth of warriors helping them. Still, Goldenflower kept Squirrel tucked tightly behind her paws, ears flat against her head and muzzle wrinkled. Squirrel just seemed excited at the prospect of violence.

 When the meeting was over, Firestar hastened (alone, promising his nervous Clan that he’d be okay) to RiverClan’s bridge, reaching it at midnight. The good news was that he was spotted quickly. The less fun news was that it was Leopardstar who saw him first, and she charged up to him. He was nervous about her bristling fur and furious eyes, but…

“Have they attacked you tonight?” she asked immediately, flexing her hungry claws.

“No, no—” Firestar shook his head. “We’re safe for now. But Cinderpelt predicts an attack tomorrow night, and by the sounds of it, it may start early in the evening. We thought we could invite you to our camp to spend the day, so you won’t have to rush to help us.”

The cats with her, multicolored and round, all looked at each other with keen interest.

“Duckflower said your camp is a lovely place,” a calico said.

“Nice and organized,” a blotchy tabby-and-white tom added. “Will a bit of colorful chaos ruffle your Clan’s feathers?”

“No more than I already do, with what I get up to,” Firestar joked, and curled his tail. “You’re all welcome to come with me.”

Leopardstar turned to her warriors. “Swiftwing, everyone should be home. Go back and bring them here. Apprentices too.”

Swiftwing cocked her head in a sideways nod before turning and running towards the massive house that sat far off in the distance, where a small grove of trees crowded together nearby. The molly’s run was, admittedly, a little clumsier and slower than Firestar thought a cat’s should be. He knew better than to comment on it, of course.

“Thank you for helping us,” he said to Leopardstar instead. “I’m hoping ThunderClan will be left alone once these cats see we still have allies.”

Leopardstar didn’t say anything—but, to his relief, her narrowed eyes were more contemplative than aggressive.

RiverClan’s fighting force arrived shortly, and Leopardstar took the lead, trotting alongside Firestar with her head high and tail higher. Cats chatted and joked as if they were merely heading to a Gathering, and Firestar half-listened in while he led. Moreso, his attention was on the cat next to him—he watched in distant fascination as her steps got stiffer and her mouth pressed thinner the closer they got to ThunderClan camp. By the time they arrived, daylight threatening to loom in the distance, she might as well have been made of wood.

ThunderClan had the good manners to welcome their neighbors politely and offer prey, which none of the RiverClan cats took out of manners of their own. Goldenflower herded the kits into the nursery and sat right outside its entrance, eyeing all newcomers warily, even as she greeted or answered a question from one of them. Aspencloud sat beside her as a much more friendly source of conversation. RiverClan cats looked around and poked their heads into dens, remarking about the tidiness of this camp and the fun feeling of the sandy floor.

The only cat who didn’t speak, or even move from where she had first stepped into camp and stopped, was Leopardstar. Firestar kept an eye on her as he went around checking to make sure everything was fine, and when she still didn’t budge by the time he was done, he padded over to her and said cheerfully, “We have a leader’s den, as well, but it’s outside of camp. Would you like to see it?”

The golden calico didn’t say anything at first, staring at something. Firestar followed her line of sight and withheld a sigh: she was watching Mintpaw and Stormpaw talk eagerly with Greystripe, who was chuffing at whatever Stormpaw had said, his eyes sparkling with delight.

Gently, Firestar tapped Leopardstar with his tail to get her attention. When she looked at him, he repeated, “Leader’s den?”

She managed to pull it together enough to take a breath and nod, and followed Firestar back out of camp. He turned left and paused when he reached the lichen curtain sheltering the den.

“I haven’t been living in here for a while,” he admitted, “so it won’t look very impressive. But every leader of ThunderClan has lived in this den—or so I was told.” He nosed aside the lichen and held it until Leopardstar was inside before following her. “Usually there’re two moss nests in here, one for me and one for guests, but… things happened, and I’ve been staying with the warriors.”

Leopardstar looked winded. Her voice was quiet. “You all do a good job of categorizing your ranks. Very… organized.”

Firestar rolled a shoulder. “I never knew why we didn’t all just sleep where we wanted, but it seems to work out okay as it is, so I haven’t questioned it too much. Does RiverClan do the same?”

“We save our dens for the queens and elders, mostly,” Leopardstar replied, still quiet. “But there’s no rule to where one sleeps, out in the open or in a den. Recently, everyone’s been blending the ranks together. To stay close, I guess.”

Firestar nodded. “That sounds nice, honestly. Everyone gets to share warmth and company.”

Leopardstar didn’t respond. Her head turned a little and stayed there, like she was staring through the den’s walls into camp. Firestar had a feeling he knew what she was thinking about.

“I hope you’ll be alright with Greystripe talking to his kits while they’re here,” he said, keeping his voice soft and friendly. “They can’t really avoid each other.”

To his surprise, Leopardstar shook her head. “It’s… good for them to see family.”

Firestar blinked, relief and surprise rolling around in his chest, unrushed and not pushing at each other. He elected to say nothing, just in case she changed her mind on that.

It was a long, quiet moment before the silence was broken—by Leopardstar.

“I still remember the last thing I said to her,” the calico said, muted.

Firestar couldn’t quite see her whole face, but from her semi-profile, he caught her dim, guilty eyes and tightened jaw.

“She…” Leopardstar swallowed. “She’d had the kits. We found out from the other queens immediately that they looked like Greystripe.” For once, her voice had no bite in it when talking about him. “Everyone was furious. I was furious. She… she was begging us to forgive her.”

Firestar said nothing. His heart broke a little at the agony sending shivers through Leopardstar’s body.

“I…” She mouthed the words before managing to say them. “I said… I told her, ‘You disgust me. You’re a disgrace to RiverClan.’ And then I turned my back on her.” Her voice had the slightest tremble in it. “She called for me twice, but I wouldn’t look her way. I didn’t turn around until she was back in the nursery.”

Firestar had a faint flicker of anger for Silverstream’s treatment, but the regret and pain on Leopardstar’s face kept him from voicing it. He watched as something heavier than a tree sagged her body down, until her head was low, like she expected a strike from some deity’s claws.

“And I never saw her again until they were carrying her out to be sent down the river,” she choked, and now she stared at nothing. “…Why would I say that? How could I say that to my own apprentice?”

Firestar stepped up to her side and spoke softly, soothingly. “These colonies have some cruel and senseless ways of thinking about things. You couldn’t help how you were raised.”

Leopardstar turned her lowered nose away, refusing to meet his eyes. “It made sense in the early years of the Clans. When cats were fighting and dying over half-Clan kits. They decided that inter-Clan relationships were illegal, and the kits that came from those would stay with the mother’s Clan. It… it stopped the fighting. It made sense. It did…”

Firestar kept his tone gentle and low. “Maybe it doesn’t anymore.”

There was a noise that could have been a harsh sigh of regret or a forced, dry chuff, and Leopardstar ever-so-slightly tilted her head towards him. “You would think that.”

Firestar’s whiskers twitched a little in half-amusement. “There are a lot of things I think that the Clans would scorn. But it seems to me that you all like to make yourselves miserable for no reason, sometimes.” Leopardstar fully looked away again, and he dared to push a little further. “Our deputy tried to kill Bluestar for ThunderClan superiority and we aren’t even allowed to talk about it, and Greystripe’s been grieving for months because some rule says he has no right to see his own kits. The first seer I ever met was murdered, and she decided she couldn’t change her fate because StarClan told her about it, even though it was supposed to be a warning. And that useless piece of land these two Clans have been fighting over, that holds nothing but rocks and some grass… there’s no reason for that, really, except habit and pride.”

At the deputy’s mention, Leopardstar flinched, but otherwise she didn’t move as Firestar spoke.

“The Clans are a wonderful place, usually,” he went on. “But I really can’t grasp some of the things you all believe. It just doesn’t make sense to me why you’d let some tradition or illusion keep you from doing what’s right and good for others.”

At this, at least, Leopardstar’s whiskers twitched and she managed to turn her eyes his way. “You’ll just do whatever you want, then.”

“For as long as I’m alive, and far past that,” Firestar confirmed with a single, confident nod. “If anyone’s got a problem with it, then they shouldn’t have put me in charge.”

Slowly, Leopardstar lifted her head. Almost under her breath, she muttered, “No wonder my Clan likes you better than me.”

Firestar wanted to protest this, but her expression—wry but somewhat defeated—kept him from arguing with her. Instead, he said, “Even being born here, there’s nothing stopping you from doing the right thing, or acting differently. We can change as many times as we want for the rest of our lives. That’s the fun thing about being alive, I think. Anything can happen, and we can make it so.”

“How optimistic,” Leopardstar said, but her tone was a little friendlier. She stood up tall again, giving the shorter leader a scrutinizing look that was, oddly, somewhat respectful. “I suppose I’ll just have to watch you and see how it’s done.”

“I’m happy to show you.” Firestar beamed at her. “Shall we rejoin our Clans? I’m sure you’d like to hear from Dustpelt about how well we organize our patrols.”

This half-chuff was more snarky than genuinely amused. “Lead on.”

As Firestar led the way out of the den and back into camp, he wondered to himself if he’d accomplished the impossible. Out of every single thing that had happened in his life, making friends with Leopardstar was not something that seemed within the limits of reality.

Well. Maybe crazier things had happened.

When the outside world finally darkened, he struggled to his feet and dragged himself out of the leader’s den and into camp. His paws trailed along the ground, unable to lift any higher than it took to move them in a vague copy of a step. He was sure that, if his eyes weren’t too blurry to see, he was leaving carvings in the sand.

No attempt was made to find breakfast. Firestar simply let his back legs collapse under him once he was at the meeting stump and started grooming himself as well as he could. Dots and rings swirled around in his vision.

It was still a little while before anyone woke up; Dustpelt, of course, was the first to leave the warriors’ den. Firestar blinked hard and rapidly until his eyes cleared enough to see his deputy more clearly—that is, he wasn’t just a blob of brown.

“Evening,” Firestar said, marveling that his voice didn’t sound like he was dead to the world.

Dustpelt blinked in surprise, like he’d just noticed him. “You’re up early.”

“I usually am.” Firestar scrubbed a paw over his ear. “Are you going to RiverClan tonight?”

“Er… yes, but are y—”

Firestar fixed him with a narrow-eyed warning stare.

Dustpelt wisely clamped his mouth shut and nodded quickly. “I’ll have a warrior come with me to the border, just to be safe. I can set up the patrols, too, if you’d…”

“I can do it,” Firestar said, yawning. “I don’t expect to go anywhere tonight. Whoever you want to take, go ahead.”

His deputy’s eyes flickered between spots in Firestar’s face, half-lidded eyes to folded ears to tight mouth. Whatever he wanted to say, he replaced it with, “I’ll wait for the rest of the Clan to wake up.”

Firestar flicked his tail in acknowledgement. His muscles were sore from a day on stone. He ignored the aches and continued grooming.

As Dustpelt padded over to the prey-pile, soft breaths and grumbles warbled out of the various dens. One by one, the Clan stepped into the sandy clearing with stretches and yawns. Firestar had to blink again several times to see his Clanmates clearly, nodding blankly at their uneasy greetings.

Bramblepaw was the first out of the apprentices’ den, his soft amber eyes wide when he caught sight of his brother. Firestar had to look away. His ears lifted as he heard Bramblepaw murmuring something, to which Dustpelt responded with a murmur of his own, before raising his voice and calling for Cloudnose. Firestar focused on picking at a piece of soil on his front leg that was stubbornly clinging to his fur.

“Emar?”

Firestar looked up, not having the energy to jolt at the sight of Bramblepaw standing right in front of him with an anxious face. Those massive paws shuffled nervously.

“Um, sorry…” Bramblepaw lowered his head like he expected to get hit. “Dustpelt told me he’s going to be busy tonight, so I’m allowed to stay in camp, but, um, he wanted me to hang out with you. Is that okay?”

Dimly, affection prodded through the murk of exhaustion in Firestar’s head. He creased his eyes at his brother and said, “That would be nice, thank you.”

Bramblepaw sighed in relief and straightened up. “Okay! Are you hungry? I can get us both food.”

“That would be nice too.” Firestar lifted his tail-tip just as Bramblepaw was about to turn around. “Get whatever you want, but I need to set up patrols before I can eat.”

“Oh– right.” Bramblepaw nodded with a mood somewhere between eagerness and meekness. “I’ll wait for you, then.”

Firestar didn’t pay attention to what he said back; he simply walked past Bramblepaw and through the growing crowd. He picked a few cats at random, requested that they hunt or check the Houses to be sure that Fury wasn’t around, and left them to their business once they agreed. Some of them said something extra. He didn’t pay attention to that, either.

He had the energy to join Bramblepaw at the stump and no more. He almost collapsed onto the sand, pulling his mouse closer to him. At least, he was half-sure it was a mouse. Maybe it was a vole. His eyes were blurring again.

Bramblepaw was kind enough to let the admittedly tense silence linger until Firestar finally took one mouthful of prey he didn’t taste before saying in a low voice, “Mira’s been worried.”

Firestar’s ears flattened. “About me, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah, that, but…” Bramblepaw peeled back some of the skin of his rat. “About Squirrel, too, and her mom. She’s been keeping Squirrel close to her a lot. I tried to talk to her and Mira asked me to go do something else, so I know she’s, um… ‘on edge’.” Bramblepaw’s pine tree of a tail tapped the ground thoughtfully. “I get why, but it’s hard, not having someone to talk to about things.”

Firestar had a faint sense where this was going, but he asked anyway. “What kind of things?”

“You know, just…” Bramblepaw patted the sand with a paw, his blurry face twisting a bit. “About Fury, and the Aulmir cats, and, um, you, and… and…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And Arpam.”

It was at least a blessing that no one else was close enough to hear them. Firestar checked the nearly-bare camp before responding with a quiet, unsteady, “Have you been thinking about Arpam a lot?”

Bramblepaw nodded. Funnily, the rest of his face looked ashamed, but his eyes were bright with curiosity. “I remember you said we could ask you questions, when I was little. I tried with Tawnypaw, but she said she didn’t want to talk about him.” He sighed quietly. “And all this stuff going on, I didn’t think it was the right time to ask, but, well, maybe there isn’t a right time to ask. I’m not even supposed to.”

In a macabre sense, Firestar was almost grateful for the chance to talk about something else that was still painful, but in a different way. He leaned his head in closer. “What do you want to know about?”

Bramblepaw tilted his head thoughtfully. “I guess a lot, but… mostly, what he would’ve been like if I got to meet him. If he really was kind and loving, like you said.”

Firestar gave his thoughts a moment to circle the question and find its answer. At the very least, he was more awake now. He closed his eyes, letting the image of the deputy stand before him, looking down with affection and pride, leaning against Goldenflower as she announced her pregnancy.

“He…” Firestar took in a breath and let it out in a sigh. “I think he would’ve been about as good of a father as someone like him could be.”

Bramblepaw leaned in even closer. “Like, if he hadn’t done all those things?”

Firestar nodded. “He wasn’t well, mentally, and a lot of cats died because of him. But he cared. I know he did.” He lowered his chin onto his paws, melancholy. “He wouldn’t have saved me from being hurt if he didn’t.”

“Oh…um…” Bramblepaw’s eyes darted over to Sandstorm, who was just leaving camp with Tawnypaw. “Sandstorm told me you nearly got caught in his trap, once.”

Firestar blinked. “How’d you get that out of her?”

It was amazing how such a large tom could shrink to kitten-size as he meekly shifted his paws and mumbled, “She heard me talking to Tawnypaw, is all. She, um…she said we almost lost you from ‘that whole debacle’. And that I needed to stop talking about it when I asked for details.”

With a soft sigh, Firestar stared down at his prey, a single bite-mark in its side. “Yeah. I went to find him by the Houses and the rogues that killed Thornclaw were nearby, waiting for Bluestar. Arpam found me and escorted me home so I didn’t get hurt.” 

Bramblepaw’s voice was even smaller than usual. “Oh.”

“He did care,” Firestar repeated, more for himself than for Bramblepaw. “It was like he was refusing to kill me, despite everything.”

“‘Everything’?” Bramblepaw tilted his head. 

Firestar’s eyes slid to Bramblepaw with grim wryness. “I did a lot of things that he was against. Helping the other Clans and talking to kittypets, specifically. Two deputies and nearly Greystripe died for that. And the amount of times he tried to kill Bluestar indirectly…” Firestar shut his eyes again. “Cinderpelt, too. She just got caught in a trap for Bluestar. But I did– well, in his mind, I did so much worse than them. I guess he just liked me too much to do anything to me, even when I stopped him from choking Bluestar.”

“Um…” Bramblepaw’s voice was a little farther away now. “You sound… bitter about that. You didn’t want him to kill you, did you?”

“I didn’t even want him to die, Bramblepaw.” Firestar’s eyes stayed more forcefully shut. “I don’t want anyone dead. But life out here is… cruel.” Unconsciously, his claws unsheathed. “It seems to find mercy and kindness funny.”

Bramblepaw did not respond to this. But a motherly murmur from across camp made Firestar attempt to retract his claws. He didn’t succeed; instead, he lifted his head, eyelids clenched as tight as they would go, and inhaled slowly to cool his rapid heartbeat.

“I don’t feel much like talking about him anymore, either,” he said to his brother, opening his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Bramblepaw opened his mouth—probably to protest—then closed it again and nodded, looking away shamefully. He did manage to mumble, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Oh, I’m always upset.” Firestar waved an apathetic paw. “You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“…You are upset a lot recently.” Bramblepaw’s next words, infuriatingly, were, “I mean, I know the Scourge issue is—”

Firestar stood up fast enough that his head spun with dizzy exhaustion and he almost tilted and fell onto his side. His voice was quiet, but Bramblepaw flinched away anyways when he said, “I think I’m going to take a walk.”

A voice flittered in his ear. He walked out of camp, not bothering to see who had spoken.

His rapid pulse only did so much to clear his vision. Everything around him wore various shades of green and brown, and he tripped more than once on some root or twig or whatever. He forced himself to slow down just enough so that he could see what was in front of his feet.

Oh. His claws were still out. Huh.

He paused and shook a front paw. Clumps of soil had caught between his toes and the inner curves of his claws, and they seemed reluctant to let go. He shook more angrily, and only succeeded in a few specks dancing through the air away from him.

Caught up in this, ears foggy and vision swimming, he didn’t notice soft, yet heavy footsteps approaching him. He jolted when a voice behind him said, “Honeymouse.”

He looked back like he’d been caught eating prey before bringing it home. Goldenflower loomed over him, her eyes unusually stern and ears slightly turned back. Dread crept up his stomach and into his chest as he tried and failed to meet her gaze.

She must have seen something in his face, because her own expression softened and she nosed his ear, saying, “Take a walk with me.”

Firestar could have protested. He knew exactly where this was going, and everything in him screamed to run to the leader’s den, lay down and refuse to see anyone. Anything to avoid this conversation.

He hung his head and mumbled, “Okay.”

Goldenflower stepped up to his side, her cloud of a tail curled around his back legs, gently guiding him along as they walked. Firestar didn’t look to see where they were going; his eyes were firmly on the ground, jittery ice dancing around his gut and knots fighting to crawl up his throat.

At some point, however long they walked, they stopped. Goldenflower sat down and Firestar followed, silently looking up. They were sitting just below the Great Sycamore, close to where Whitecloud had been buried. The tree’s branches carried an abundance of leaves, and with how grandly spread they were, Firestar had no hope of seeing the stars. He was oddly grateful for that.

It was quiet for a long moment, before Goldenflower turned to Firestar, her voice gentle. “You need to talk about Scourge.”

Firestar shivered. The knots wanted out of his mouth now.

“I know you don’t want to.” Goldenflower touched her nose to his forehead. “I can’t imagine how painful it is. But this is killing you from the inside, and we can all see it.” She pulled back, head tilted as she regarded her son sadly. “When was the last time you properly slept? Or ate?”

He couldn’t even open his mouth to answer. Something near delirium was spinning his head around. Nothing seemed real save his mother’s voice.

“You can get it out here.” Goldenflower rested a huge paw between her son’s shoulders, adding softly, “Please talk to me, honeymouse.”

It was so hard to understand his surroundings now. Everything blurred and spiraled, and for a moment a small white shape stood in front of him, silent and rigid and leaking red. The weight of Goldenflower’s paw and the scent of motherhood were the only things connecting him to reality.

Deep in Firestar’s core, walled in by towers of guilt and anger and regret… something cracked. It started small, but rapidly widened into a fissure, racing through his body in a spiderweb pattern. His eyes began to burn, and his body began to shake.

Self-control broken in half, he leaned hard into his mother, buried his face in her fur, and croaked in a tiny voice, “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Goldenflower’s soothing purr rumbled through his body, and she moved her paw lower onto his side to pull him closer to her, until he was almost completely swallowed by her long fur. Like a newborn kit, he pressed into her as hard as he could, no longer having the strength to keep himself upright.

“He—” Firestar’s voice was pathetically wobbly, pitched up and incredibly difficult to force out of his throat, which was nearly closed up with the flood of emotions. “He had my neck, and– and I remembered the dog– I just– I panicked, I fought back– I didn’t know it was him, I really didn’t, I was just terrified, and…”

Goldenflower began grooming the top of his head, still purring. Firestar’s mouth trembled.

“I can’t do anything,” he whimpered into her fur. “I dream about killing him. I can’t– I can’t focus, I can’t think– everyone’s scared to upset me now– I didn’t want him to die, Mira, I didn’t want anyone to die.”

“I know, love,” Goldenflower murmured.

“And now—” He cut himself off to swallow thickly. “And now everyone in the Aulmir is suffering, and they’re suffering because of me. They’re being taken away, and everyone’s lost without a leader, and… and I ruined all of their lives.” He grit his teeth. “Because I panicked. I killed them, Mira, everyone they’ve lost after the battle—”

“None of that is your fault.”

Firestar didn’t have it in him to meet her eyes. “How can it not be?”

Goldenflower rested her chin on his head. Her words vibrated through his body just like her purr. “Did you tell the humans to catch cats and cut them?”

“N-no, but—”

“Did you tell Scourge to try to kill you?”

“…No…but…”

“And did you look at the Aulmir after everything and say, ‘Well, too bad for them, I guess it’s not my problem anymore’?” She lifted her head.  

Firestar dared to look up at her. Her expression was that of a matriarch gently correcting a sullen kitten.

Quietly, reluctantly, he said, “No…”

Goldenflower’s eyes half shut in sympathy. “You couldn’t have possibly predicted how any of this was going to go. The Blood came at us, honeymouse. The humans made their own moves, and they just happened to be after the battle.” Her voice, somehow, went even softer. “And you have spent every waking and sleeping moment since then trying to find a way to help the cats who want you dead more than any other warrior in the territories. It’s been driving you to an early grave. And that terrifies all of us so much more than any attack from Fury and her crew.”

Firestar said nothing. He couldn’t speak. He just stared up at his mother blearily.

“I know it’s in your bones to take on responsibility,” she continued. When he could make himself meet her eyes, they turned fond. “You’ve carried more weight in your two years of life than most of us three times your age have ever been capable of. But that doesn’t mean everything bad that happens is your fault.” Her gaze turned in the vague direction of the Aulmir for a moment. “Nor is it your burden to fix problems you had nothing to do with.”

This, at least, he could respond to, weak though his voice was. “I can’t sit here and let them suffer, Mira.”

“You can’t let it destroy you like this, either,” Goldenflower replied. “How useful can you be to your own Clan, let alone strangers, if you haven’t slept or eaten in days?”

Firestar opened his mouth and shut it again. He looked down at his feet.

A tongue rasped over his left ear, and his mother’s gentle voice came again. “I wish it hadn’t been you that killed Scourge, honeymouse. More than anything, I wish it wasn’t you. But it was going to be someone. If we wanted to win, he would have to die. Brick said it himself, even after the battle.”

“It wasn’t right,” Firestar muttered, “even so.”

“Killing never is.” Oddly, Goldenflower’s voice tightened. “Even with those who deserve to die. It happened, regardless. And it was always going to happen.”

It was silent for a long moment. Firestar’s breathing steadied out, and the knots in his throat slowly settled back into his stomach, dissolving one by one. He still felt like dirt, but at the very least, he could hold himself up again. He still leaned into Goldenflower, absorbing the comforting warmth.

“At the very least,” she said at last, “I want you to understand that none of this is your fault. You did the best you could with what you had. I know you wanted things to resolve peacefully. They just weren’t going to.” Her cheek rubbed against his as she purred soothingly. “But I’m sorry you were the one to resolve it as it went.”

Firestar didn’t respond to this… but, oddly, his muscles slowly relaxed and his stomach calmed, just a bit. He sat up straighter, even with exhaustion sagging his nose to point at the ground.

“I think I need to sleep,” he said eventually.

Goldenflower’s purr strengthened. “Do you want to go home?”

Firestar’s whiskers twitched weakly. “Not… not particularly, no.”

“Then I’ll stay out here with you until you’re ready,” Goldenflower replied.

With this, Firestar’s legs gave up keeping him upright. He slowly sank into a crouching position, which Goldenflower readily followed. He leaned against her again, until he was almost on his side, his legs still tightly tucked into his body.

“I suppose we have no other business here,” Firestar said to Rookstar. “Unless you need help with something?”

Rookstar’s tail brushed along the ground lazily. “Should be good for a few days. Keep in touch. We could help you too.”

“I appreciate that.” Firestar settled a little in his chest. “And, of course, ThunderClan’s ready to help you at any time. If you want extra muscle to confront those Aulmir cats, please let us know.”

“Duly noted.”

Firestar looked at Brick. “Ready to go?”

Brick slanted his head. “We might as well. I’m eager to get out of this grass, if you’ll pardon me, Rookstar.”

“Take an escort.” Rookstar beckoned Wrenwhisker over with his tail. “Don’t need you to fall into a tunnel.”

Wrenwhisker said nothing as he walked past Firestar and Brick, leading them back out into the moorland. It troubled Firestar that he was grateful for the silence.

Walking down the long hill was a great deal easier; the main concern was following Wrenwhisker’s path. It was truly a marvel how, even knowing the tunnels were there, they were still impossible to see. If the grass didn’t cover one, it was elegantly shielded by a crest of tough, dry earth that hovered at just the right height to not be suspicious at a second or third glance.

They were about halfway down when Wrenwhisker turned his head, met Firestar’s eyes, and gestured with a jerk of his chin. Firestar glanced at Brick, who nodded, before picking up his pace and trotting up to Wrenwhisker, leaving Brick to follow at a respectful distance.

“Wanted to say ‘sorry’,” Wrenwhisker murmured as he lowered his long head to Firestar’s level. “About the Gathering.”

Every string of muscle in Firestar’s body went completely stiff. It was amazing his limbs kept moving.

“Just got worried about you, is all,” Wrenwhisker continued. “You don’t look like yourself. But I shouldn’t say that in the middle of a big crowd.”

Firestar’s ears unconsciously flattened against his head.

Wrenwhisker must have noticed, because his voice went even more quiet, and about as careful as a WindClanner could sound. “Don’t really sound like yourself, either—”

“It’s not your problem,” Firestar said sharply. “I’m fine. My only problem is finding a way to help the Aulmir cats. The rest of you don’t need to worry about that. You wouldn’t, anyway.”

Wrenwhisker, evidently, knew when to shut up. He looked forward again, mouth closed tight, and said nothing more for the entire walk. Firestar slowed down his pace so that he wouldn’t have to feel his friend’s eyes on the side of his head.

When they reached the border, Wrenwhisker stopped, waved his tail, and stood quietly until Brick and Firestar were far enough away for the stripes on his pelt to blur with distance. Brick glanced back at him, then at Firestar, but he was silent too. Thank the stars.

Crossing the neutral grounds, the stars were fleeing an advancing pale sky when they caught sight of a familiar cloud of ginger-and-white standing at the edge of the forest. Cloudnose seemed almost half asleep, but as soon as he saw them, he shook himself, jumped to his feet, and rushed over to them with his enormously fluffy tail high and curled.

“There you are!” He slowed down, his enthusiasm halted as his eyes turned to his uncle. “Eparme, are, uh, are you okay?”

Firestar clenched his teeth briefly, but answered with a calm, “I’m fine, why?”

“Just…” Cloudnose gestured weakly with a paw. “Your ears.”

His ears…?

Ah. They were still flat against his head.

Forcing them back up again, he straightened up as well as he could. “Everything’s alright. We have some news to share with ThunderClan. Let’s go home. Why were you out here alone?”

Cloudnose, like Wrenwhisker, took the cue and dropped the subject. He still walked a body-length away from his uncle as he answered. “We heard from a WindClan cat that you were helping Rookstar out with something, but you and Brick were gone for so long… we got worried, so I offered to stand at the border and wait for you.”

“Thank you,” Firestar said automatically, and nothing more. He pretended not to notice Cloudnose peering over him with a questioning look at Brick, and he refused to look at Brick to see what his response was.

It was a silent journey back to camp. Silent and painfully awkward. Firestar focused on his feet and the path he was walking, trying to find little discolored flecks of soil or any signs of moisture still sticking to the ground. It didn’t really help, but it was mildly entertaining.

They stepped through the tunnel and into camp, and it seemed like everyone was there. Several cats jumped up excitedly, and those that rose more slowly sighed in relief. Dustpelt was the first to reach them, stopping in front of Firestar with his paws together and back straight.

“Things were fine while you were gone,” he said promptly. “But you did worry the Clan a bit by not coming home sooner.”

“A ‘bit’?” Teaselfoot padded up to them with a snort. “It was all anyone was talking about! ‘Where’s Firestar?’ ‘Why hasn’t he come home by now?’ ‘What if something got him and Brick?’”

“Oh, so someone did consider me.” Brick twitched his whiskers. “How touching.”

“I told you guys they were fine,” Cinderpelt said by the stump. “The one time you choose not to listen to me…”

“Is everyone here?” Firestar asked Dustpelt.

Dustpelt nodded. “Hunting and patrolling have been taken care of tonight. We left scouting at the border for after you got home.”

“Good.” Firestar turned and trotted to the meeting stump, jumping up quickly and turning to face the Clan. He barely waited for everyone to gather around before beginning with, “Brick’s and my time was spent with Rookstar. He’s been having trouble with rogues in the Barn, just like Barley said, and…”

As he told the story, his eyes drifted over his Clanmates and their guests. Tiny Squirrel, standing next to Goldenflower with a comically far-tilted head; Barley, his paw still lifted and ears back but his eyes remaining hopeful; Brick, sitting by Mousefur and seemingly paying more attention to her reactions than what Firestar was saying. They stood out from the longhaired giants of the forest almost as badly as he did. It was vaguely comforting to not be the only weird one now.

“…So we should be ready if WindClan decides to ask for our help,” he finished. “I don’t know if they will, but be on alert anyways. I do want to check on RiverClan and ShadowClan as well in the coming nights.”

Dustpelt, standing on the side of the stump opposite Cinderpelt, spoke up. “I can go to RiverClan tomorrow night, if you’d like. You need to rest.”

Why did that elicit Firestar’s claws unsheathing and digging into the stump’s soft wood?

He gathered what little patience he had in the moment and answered, “That would be nice. Thank you.”

There was a brief silence that was just as awkward as the two that had preceded it. Firestar broke it by continuing, “We’ll check on ShadowClan after them. That’s all I needed to say. Let’s rest and wait for tomorrow.”

He jumped down with no further fanfare and the crowd split up, some cats going to what remained of the prey-pile and others sitting down to groom themselves before heading to their dens. Distantly, Firestar’s stomach growled, so he joined Brick, Mousefur, Teaselfoot, and Lizardtail at the prey-pile.

“Any moles left?” he asked, and didn’t know how to feel when the entire group barely concealed their flinches as they looked at him.

Lizardtail was the one to speak first, pawing through the pile and scooping up a rather fat mole. “Just one. I think someone saved it for you.” He batted it Firestar’s way and it slid into his feet.

“Thank you,” Firestar said. He rested a paw on the mole and looked down at it, remembering Spottedleaf and when she’d carved one open and presented its heart to him. Experimentally, he did the same, using one claw to slice down the mole’s stomach—

And immediately had to fight vomiting bile.

Things pink and dull maroon sliding out of a wound he’d caused. Neck and gut covered in blood he’d spilled.

He shoved the mole away from him, back legs giving out just as he tried to back up. He shivered violently and his chest began to ache. He belatedly realized he wasn’t breathing and forcefully inhaled and exhaled in a way that stung his lungs.

It’s not him. It’s not him. His claws sank into the sand. It’s just a mole. Just food. Nothing happened.

“Firestar?”

His head shot up. Everyone was looking at him. Even Brick’s eyes were wide and disturbed.

It was Teaselfoot who had spoken. “What’s wrong?”

Firestar swallowed air, trying to kill the nausea broiling his stomach. His voice completely failed to sound calm. “Nothing. Get your prey and some rest.”

Lizardtail, watching him through slightly narrowed eyes, turned to the others. Some sort of idea was communicated in silence, because the other three picked up their meals and quickly left the scene, their tails all puffed out.

Firestar only had a moment to feel the relief of silence and solitude before Lizardtail stepped closer to him, sat down, and with mentor-like patience, asked quietly, “How are you doing?”

Firestar tensed up all over again. He barely managed to mutter, “I wish you all would stop asking me that.”

“And we wish you’d answer honestly,” Lizardtail replied.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m—”

“It very much does.” Lizardtail had the audacity to speak sternly, even if his eyes were uneasy. “Ever since the battle, you’ve been… well, you’ve been a mess. I understand why—”

Firestar glared at him. The anger flaring in his chest was becoming entirely too familiar. “What’s the story, then? What did you all hear?”

Lizardtail did a pretty good job at hiding his flinch, but not a perfect one. “…We all know how Scourge died. And that you were the one to do it.”

Firestar could have retched. He just stared at the ground and said nothing.

“I can’t pretend that I know exactly how you’re feeling,” Lizardtail went on, “but I can get a pretty good idea from how you’ve been acting. We all can. It’s…” He took in a slow breath and leaned in closer, voice even quieter. “I don’t think you’ve noticed how everyone’s afraid of you now.”

That got his attention. Firestar looked up at him like he’d been struck. “What are you talking about? No one… who would be afraid of me?”

Lizardtail gazed off behind him. “Maybe the cats who don’t want to make you angry by saying the wrong thing, which…we don’t know what that is anymore.”

Firestar looked over his shoulder. The few cats still out were not being subtle about watching the muted conversation. They turned their attention to their pelts or meals as soon as Firestar caught their eyes, but none of them spoke.

“We’ve been treading lightly around you for over a month, Firestar,” Lizardtail continued, having the decency to stay quiet. “You look like a corpse half the time, and the other half you’ve got an air like you’re about to start screaming at whoever you’re talking to.”

Firestar stared at him, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“All you talk about is the Aulmir cats,” Lizardtail said. His eyes softened now. “But I know that’s not the full idea of what’s bothering you.”

Silence. Firestar didn’t know what to say.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, Lizardtail added, in the same soothing tone he’d used for Swifttail when he was an anxious new apprentice, “I—well, all of us—really think it would help you to talk to someone about this. Anyone you want. We’d all listen.”

Firestar’s nose pointed to the ground again. He couldn’t feel the sand pooling into the spaces between his toes.

“I wish you’d stop saying that, too,” he muttered, with much more venom than he wanted to express.

Lizardtail drew back a little, sighed through his nose, and replied quietly, “Okay.” Before Firestar could say anything, he picked up a mouse and walked past his leader, offering one last look of concern before passing him and, going by the voices whispering to him, joining Mousefur and Teaselfoot.

Firestar didn’t listen to what they were saying. He stood up, not bothering to shake the sand out of his paws, and stalked over to the camp’s entrance. He barely had it in him to keep his tail level and straight instead of lashing around.

Some part of him squeaked in complaint that he wasn’t going to the warrior’s den again. The other part moved him forward until he passed through the regrowing lichen curtain and stepped into the leader’s den. The moss in here was cracked, dry and brown. He kicked the scattered remains of his nest out of his way and laid down on the hard ground with no fanfare or pacing.

That damned stone wall, staring him down, daring him to look away.

He did. He curled up tightly around himself, almost sinking his claws into his haunch so he couldn’t untangle and stretch out to face the wall again. His squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth with the effort.

But he couldn’t shut out the faces of his Clanmates, of his family, all staring at him, this time with worry and fear. Now that Lizardtail had mentioned it, their hesitation to upset him, or even speak to him, became painfully obvious.

He was aware he wasn’t fine, okay? He knew. He wasn’t stupid.

But he didn’t think he really deserved to be fine.

Who would get to be okay with everything he’d caused? Everything he did.

Stars knew how many cats he’d led to their deaths by murdering just one.

How was it fair? How could he just go back to business as usual while innumerable cats suffered, lost their children, lost their ability to HAVE any, were taken away from their homes and families, were done away with by humans if they weren’t healthy enough?

When they reached the hedge, Rookstar stopped and swiveled his ears, leaning his head in close to the usual open part of the bush that cats could slip through. He listened for a long moment, eyes narrowed, before looking back at the younger toms.

“They’re all in the Barn,” he murmured. “Firestar, you and I will go around by the road. Brick, wait until we’re out of your sight to step through and call attention to yourself. The corn is difficult to run through, but it’ll provide protection. Get back to the hedge quickly and head back to camp.”

There was no time wasted for even a nod; Rookstar turned and loped to the right, and Firestar had to hurry after him. He threw one glance back at Brick peering through the hedge and then picked up his pace into a run. His legs were working overtime just to keep up with Rookstar at half-speed.

“Keep silent,” Rookstar whispered.

The hedge ended as a wire fence began, and shortly they reached the road. The front of the Barn, and the house it sat beside, was backed up a little to allow space for a gravel patch with various cars and human creations lounging in random spots, like guards that had fallen asleep on the job. The doorway on this side of the Barn was wide open; from here Firestar could see a gaggle of rough-looking cats talking to each other and eating whatever mice or rats they had found that night.

Rookstar signaled with his tail and the leaders stopped where they were, hidden behind a rusting hunk of metal that could have once been called a car. Both of their ears perked forward and they crouched, prepared to run.

“I’m just saying, maybe she could come here too,” someone said. “We’ve got the space.”

“There’s no point,” a sour voice replied. “It’s too late for her and everyone else there. And you know she won’t leave.”

“And we need all this food for ourselves,” a molly added.

“You think this Barn will run out any time soon?”

“I mean—”

The voice stopped. All noise in the Barn did. Firestar dared to poke his head out just enough to catch sight of a crowd of cats all staring at something on the other side.

Rookstar did the same, then tapped Firestar with his tail and cantered across the open space in a half-crouch. Firestar followed him, reaching the other side just as he faintly heard Brick say, “Is this where y’all have been?”

Stay safe, Firestar tried to think in Brick’s direction. You’ve done enough risky things for the Clans.

He didn’t say this aloud. Neither leader spoke until they had passed the house as well and were on their way towards an unfamiliar cluster of plants that could have been small trees as easily as large shrubs.

“You’ll let me do the talking to whoever we find there,” Rookstar said to Firestar, volume normal again. “These folks speak Fang.”

“I don’t know any of that,” Firestar admitted. “I just know the one or two words dogs speak.”

“Mm.” Rookstar’s ears perked. “You said one when we were handling that last dog, didn’t you? Didn’t recognize the word.”

“I did, yeah, but it was just ‘no’.”

“Did enough for just one word.” Rookstar’s snake-long tail curled, and if Firestar could read him better, he would have guessed the look the senior gave him to be approving. But Rookstar said nothing more, just trotted alongside the road with Firestar hurrying behind him on much, much shorter legs.

Rookstar entered the maze of shrub-trees, weaving through it with the expertise Firestar would have walking around in ThunderClan’s forest. The grass was barely present, oddly short and almost all yellow, prickling Firestar’s pawpads. The shrub-trees’ leafage wasn’t much more welcoming, but it gave way a lot easier than most of the bushes in the forest. The smell of the road quickly disappeared, with a new scent that Firestar couldn’t really identify clogging his nose. It was sharp and pungent, and it leaked out of every plant with an intensity that bordered on unpleasant.

Rookstar slowed and stopped as they emerged onto a broad circle of flat, open land. Firestar stepped up beside him, sniffing. He caught sight of long white things dropped here and there, and flinched when he realized they were bones.

“Folks eat here,” Rookstar said. “There’s a rule to clean up the meat so the place doesn’t smell like rotting flesh. Still, bones sometimes get left behind.”

“Oh.” Firestar wilted. “So… this is where you take cats’ bodies.”

Rookstar nodded.

Almost immediately, the image of a pile of corpses from the battle cheerfully plastered itself in front of Firestar’s eyes. He shook his head hard to get rid of it, his stomach churning even so.

Rookstar hadn’t turned his own head, but his eyes slid Firestar’s way.

“Most think we’re monsters for this,” he said after a pause. “We think burying bodies in a territory full of tunnels is a poor idea.”

“I don’t think you’re monsters,” Firestar said quickly. “I mean, it is unsettling, a little, but… we all have our ways of taking care of dead cats.”

Rookstar hummed. “We make friends and put meat to good use this way. All of us contribute to keeping WindClan safe and informed in the end.”

An unpleasant idea struck Firestar. “Even kittens?”

“Even kittens,” Rookstar said solemnly.

Firestar’s mouth unconsciously went into a grimace, but he said nothing. He wondered about the queens who knowingly gave up their dead children to be devoured by a weasel or fox. He couldn’t imagine being okay with it himself, but WindClan cats were born knowing what would happen to them when they died. Maybe it was easier to swallow then.

A long silence followed, both toms sitting down at some point and listening to the world around them. Firestar’s exhaustion caught up to him and he had to fight not to drift off where he sat. As the moon started to sink, a familiar, somewhat dusty smell reached Firestar’s nose. Before he could name it, a pair of shadows appeared overhead. Firestar flinched on instinct at the recognizable silhouette, but kept as still as he could as two brown-brindled, massive owls landed across from the cats, their wingflaps entirely silent. Their round, violently orange eyes narrowed as they landed on Firestar.

Then Rookstar spoke. And immediately, Firestar was lost. His words were calm and clear, but hit the air with a sharp cutoff or a sound that was alien coming from a feline. It sounded nothing like the language Firestar knew—which, of course, he realized, silently scolding himself. Rookstar’s speaking Fang. No kidding, I wouldn’t understand it.

The owls cocked their heads alarmingly far to the side, and one of them spoke back in a low, soft voice that kicked up high and loud right at the end of whatever sentence they had spoken. The other chirruped and squinted at Firestar, to which Rookstar made a surprisingly deep sound that could have rattled the ground if it was any louder. The owls then looked at each other, then back to Rookstar and blinked twice in unison.

Rookstar didn’t look at Firestar’s undoubtedly curious face when he said to him, “These two are friends of WindClan. I just told them you’re a friend, too.” He paused, then added, “Here’s a word to know. Kolot. Say that now.”

“Kolot,” Firestar repeated, the sound alien in his mouth. He muttered it to himself, trying to get the sharpness of Kol right.

“Good,” Rookstar said. “That’s Fang for ‘cousin’. Your best way to stay friendly with a strange predator. Call them that, they’ll know you mean no harm.” He said something else just as odd-sounding to the owls. Firestar caught ‘kolot’ in there somewhere.

One owl hooted and shook out its feathers. Though its face didn’t change, it did sound a little amused. It regarded Firestar with less contempt in its eyes than he’d perceived before. Firestar bowed his head respectfully, hoping that wasn’t a rude gesture to an owl.

“I’ll tell them about the Barn cats,” Rookstar said.

“Make sure they know not to go after Barley once this is taken care of,” Firestar said quickly. “I don’t want him to be hurt.”

Rookstar lowered his chin before speaking to the owls again. He said something that made the owls straighten up a bit with surprised blinks. The larger owl’s voice would have been oddly soothing had Firestar not spent a lifetime listening to owl calls and being warned that a cat his size would be easy prey for them. It was hard to fully enjoy a conversation one couldn’t understand with strange predators on the other side of it.

Still, Firestar stood patiently, listening as best he could, trying to think of things the owls might need to know. One idea struck him, and he waited for a pause in the conversation to tell Rookstar, “Those cats have a queen with kits. Please let them know not to harm her or them.”

Rookstar nodded and continued talking to the owls. The chatter went on long enough that Firestar could watch stars begin to fade out of the sky, before Rookstar rumbled a gentle-sounding string of words that the owls repeated in unison and perfect imitation.

“Uta e kolot,” the smaller owl said, looking at Firestar.

Firestar didn’t know what to say back, so he just repeated, “Uta e kolot.”

To his relief, the owl gave him a warm look before bobbing its head to Rookstar and spreading its massive, broad wings, its partner following. The pair of them took off in silence, the wind from their flapping rustling Firestar’s fur.

“What did I say to them?” he asked once the owls were gone.

“‘You are cousin’,” Rookstar replied. “Polite way to end a conversation and make friends. Let’s go.”

“Did we get what we came for?” Firestar asked, turning and following Rookstar back the way they’d come.

Rookstar walked more slowly now. “We did. They’ll be plucking one cat a night until the gang’s small enough for us to confront. We’ll be watching the Barn for that.”

“They’re not going to take any of the kits, are they?”

“No.” Rookstar’s tail lifted over his back. “Remember that they’ve got chicks themselves. Makes them a little more sympathetic to other animals.”

“Good.” Firestar sighed in relief, and quieter, “...Good.”

Their return trip was more casual, but passed in less time. They only paused at the Barn’s door, checking to make sure they weren’t being watched.

Firestar tilted his head at the various furry mounds in spots scattered around the interior. It wasn’t exactly cold, but even ThunderClan had slept clustered together when they’d stayed there, and they were never far away from each other at home. These cats were very distant from each other, all tightly curled up with fur flared, like they were waiting even in their sleep for something to wake them up and pull them into a fight.

“I wonder if they’re even friends,” he whispered to Rookstar.

Rookstar grunted. “Probably not. You know how rogues are.”

Firestar waited until they had crossed the open space and were safely out of earshot before angrily responding, “I do. It kills me that no one else does.”

Rookstar didn’t say anything to that, but he gazed at Firestar with an unreadable expression for a long moment. He turned and continued on, his tail and ears very still.

When they made it to the fence, they turned around its corner to see a cat waiting for them by the hedge’s starting point. It wasn’t hard to recognize Brick as he stood and met them halfway.

“How did the distraction go?” Firestar asked, the three of them trotting now for WindClan’s camp.

Brick curled his tail. “They were baffled that I’m still alive. ‘Course, Jumper and Hoot wanted to kill me, but that corn is hard for a cat their size to get through. Ended up getting back over to the hedge without a problem.” He looked at Rookstar. “And your friends are in on the plan, I hope?”

Rookstar grunted.

“They’re leaving the kits and queen alone, at least,” Firestar said to Brick. “The rest is up to them.”

“That’ll work.” Brick squinted one eye at Firestar in amusement. “And I’ll wager you had no idea what was being said?”

“Rookstar had to translate,” Firestar said sheepishly. “But I learned a Fang word! Kolot. Cousin.”

“And is that useful, or…”

“I guess that’s the way to refer to someone if you want to be friendly.”

“Alright.” Brick paused. “Would’ve been useful for those dogs, I imagine.”

“No,” Rookstar said, bordering on sharp. “You can’t trust a dog. Especially not one that’s tasted blood.”

Brick sighed. “I guess that would’ve been too easy. I’m just glad those beasts stayed out of town.” He paused, then added quietly, “Not that it’s good that y’all suffered under them, of course.”

Rookstar’s ears went back, and he looked full on at Brick. “Blackstar said once, before all of this, that you Aulmir cats were waiting for trouble to find us. That was when the dogs showed up.”

Brick nodded. “We’d overheard from wanderers that there was a pack of dogs that showed up somewhere out the way you two went. Around that time, Bone was gathering forces that’d end up becoming the Blood, and he told all of us that y’all were in their trajectory and we wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with the Clans in the future if we just kept to ourselves and let the dogs tear you apart.”

“Which one was Bone?”

“That oversized white-and-black fellow with the big belly.” Brick sighed, sounding disappointed. “None of us expected that it’d be the town that would fall apart. Guess we didn’t think y’all are as organized as you are. Work together as well as you do.”

“They still cost us a lot of ThunderClan,” Firestar said, fighting a shiver of grief and old fear. “If we hadn’t been lucky enough for them all to die, one by one, we could’ve been completely decimated.”

Brick’s expression was bordering on mournful, his voice softer as he looked ahead. “Cloudnose told me about his brother and mother. That’s a nightmare I don’t think even Scourge could have bested.”

“It’s over now,” Rookstar said quietly. “We’re alive. They’re not.”

“I suppose that’s the way to look at it.” Brick’s eyes went to Firestar. “Not that ThunderClan seems to know that.”

Rookstar’s ears lifted, but he said nothing.

“We did have a cat dying every couple of days, it seemed like,” Firestar said. “You can forgive them for being a little anxious.”

“I can,” Brick replied. “I imagine those cats in the Barn will be pretty anxious themselves, for a very similar reason.”

Firestar’s tail tapped the ground as he walked. “I wish we didn’t have to do this. I’m not so sure we do. They seemed peaceful, sleeping when we went by. I hate to give them the same experience ThunderClan had.”

“They were sleeping?” Brick blinked in surprise. “So soon after chasing me off, too. Well, I suppose they’re appreciating the peace that living in that Barn gives them. No cats to fight, plenty of food. They’re probably sleeping most of their days away.”

“Not for long,” Rookstar said flatly.