#leopardflame

Thunderclan couldn’t afford a war with Riverclan right now. There were so few warriors, and he wasn’t sure he could trust all of them - least of all himself - in a battle against the other Clan. There was Bluestar to contend with as well, the once great leader barely leaving her nest without his or Yellowfang’s prodding. If they went to war, Thunderclan would lose, he was sure of it, and it would be just one more criticism that the elders would have of his being deputy.

He slowed to a halt as he reached a familiar clearing - one in which, long ago, he’d seen Riverclan cats for the first time. He gently dropped Robinkit, the other two warriors doing the same behind him. He opened his mouth, about to mew instruction to the other warriors, but stopped when a gray striped tail slapped across his mouth. He blinked, staring bewilderedly at Peppermask, but she didn’t say anything, instead gesturing for him to be quiet.

Fireheart perked his ears, suddenly painfully aware of how close they were to the Riverclan border. Had she heard warriors coming? He pricked his ears, expecting to hear cats approaching, but the only thing he could hear was birdsong. He watched, his confusion growing, as she stalked away into the bushes, firmly in their own territory. Had she heard trespassers?

He was about to follow her when he heard a startled squawk, followed by the sound of a dozen wings frantically taking to the air. Peppermask returned with a bright smile, carrying a plump pigeon in her jaws. “I saw them as we approached.” She explained as she dropped it in front of the kits. “I didn’t want you scaring them off. No point in wasting a perfectly good opportunity.”

Though his heart was still racing from the thought of an approaching threat, he had to agree with her reasoning. “That seems sensible.” He admitted, trying to calm himself down. “Hey, have you kits ever-”

He startled as he looked down at the kits, who were tearing into the bird with a ferocious zeal that made him feel a little nervous for his own hide. “Hey, don’t- don’t choke on the feathers, please.” He warned them, though he wasn’t entirely sure they heard him as they continued crunching into the carcass.

He hadn’t noticed before, with too much else on his mind, but he realized now how skinny the three kits were. Between his and Peppermask’s hunting, not to mention Yellowfang’s help, Princess’ kits were pudgy, bordering on fat. It felt unnatural to see these kits, almost skin and bones, now ravaging the prey set in front of them. How long had it been since they ate? Surely they hadn’t starved this badly from a single day of adventure - this was at least a quarter-moon without eating, maybe more. 

When he looked at Peppermask, he expected to see surprise on her face, but she was just watching them with sadness. “I could feel Dawnkit’s spine when I picked her up. That’s why I- I couldn’t let them go back, and find out later that they’d starved to death…” She explained softly to him when she saw him watching.

“The river is Riverclan’s main source of food, and it freezes over in leafbare. Most of the prey in the lowlands goes into hibernation, too.” Graystripe mumbled from his other side. “That’s why they get so fat in leaf-fall; they need all the food they can get to survive leafbare. They try to have kits in newleaf, when the fish return, so that they’ll have plenty to eat.”

Fireheart looked on, his heart aching as he watched the kits devour every last scrap of the pigeon. If the kits were this skinny, the part of the Clan that ate first, how was the rest of the Clan alive? What if they’d all perished in the floods, unable to summon the strength to swim-

No, he wouldn’t let himself think such thoughts. “Come on, you three.” He mewed, nudging them with his nose. They moved from the bones reluctantly, glancing back as though hoping they might spot a spare morsel that they had missed. “It’s time to get you back to your mother.”

They moved through what little bracken remained to look down on Sunningrocks. Just like the rest of the land close to the river, it was flooded, the normal stone floor vanished beneath the water. However, just as they’d hoped, some of the normal stone towers that made Sunningrocks so valuable were still a tail-length or more above the water. His heart soared as he saw cats moving around - dozens of them, an entire Clan’s worth.

He turned to the kits. “You three stay here for a moment.” He nodded the same to Peppermask and Graystripe before, with a deep sigh, wading a few tail-lengths out until the water was lapping firmly around his forelegs. “Riverclan!” He called, watching as the entire Clan’s head turned as one at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “Is Ivyskip among you? We must speak with her.”

He could see some cats already bristling at him, ready to challenge him. He was technically intruding, although he hoped that they would see it was for a good reason, and he’d expected minor aggression at his appearance. He could hear talking, though not well enough to make out words or who was speaking, before several cats dove into the water and swam towards him, leaving the rest of the Clan on the rocks. They didn’t seem to be a battle patrol, at least, which was a good start.

He flicked his tail for them to follow him, then moved back to mostly dry land. “Come here. Let them see you, all of you. We don’t want them to think this is an ambush.” He mewed, the kits and warriors emerging from the bracken to stand beside him.

It was only heartbeats before the Riverclan cats were upon them, and he was grateful to realize he recognized most of them. Crookedstar was leading them, his jaw twisted up in an ugly scowl, while Leopardflame and Mistyskip flanked him. Behind them was a tortoiseshell queen he didn’t recognize - Ivyskip, if he had to guess.

“My kits!” His thoughts were confirmed as the queen raced past him as soon as she could stand, enveloping them all in her still-dripping embrace. “You’re safe! Oh, Starclan, thank Starclan you’re all safe…”

Crookedstar’s green gaze warmed slightly as he watched the family reunite. “And how, might I ask, did Thunderclan come by three of Riverclan’s kits?” The leader asked, his gaze narrowing to glare down at Fireheart. He steadied himself, not wanting to seem afraid and guilty. They had done nothing wrong rescuing these kits; he would not let Thunderclan be blamed.

He opened his mouth to reply. “They stole them from us! They must have!” Leopardflame spat before he could speak, her spotted pelt rising as she advanced on the three young Thunderclanners. “They’ve been nothing but trouble for us all of leafbare! First with the prey-stealing, and then-”

“We didn’t steal them!” Fireheart snapped back before she could finish. “We were out to survey the extent of the flooding near the Owltree when we heard kits calling for help. The branch they were on broke apart in front of us, so we rescued them before they could drown.”

“Really? You expect us to believe that?” The deputy straightened up to her full height with a hiss, though Fireheart suspected that if he tried he would be taller than her. “As if Thunderclan cats would ever get their paws wet!”

“Leopardflame.” Mistyskip mewed, casting a disdainful glance at her deputy as she stepped up beside her uncle. “Look at their bellies. They’re soaked with water, all of them, which could only happen if they were submerged in water, and not just traveling in the rain. They have been swimming, and recently.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Leopardflame spat back, her eyes blazing furiously at the senior warrior that had dared to talk back to her. “If you’re so smart, then explain how they could find our kits near the Owltree, far upstream from camp!”

The silver molly looked unsettled at the deputy’s retort. Fireheart stepped forward to interrupt them before she could hazard a guess. “I think that might be answered by the kits themselves.” He turned to them, shivering and hugging their mother as tightly as possible. “Go on, then.”

The kits stared at him with wide, anxious eyes, and suddenly he felt fear strike his heart. They had to tell the truth, or Riverclan would be furious with them! After all that the three warriors had done for the kits…

Peppermask crouched down, her belly brushing the wet pebbles below. “Hey, you guys don’t want us to get in trouble for saving you, do you? Just tell them what you told us.” She mewed gently to the three.

Tears welled in Aspenkit’s eyes, but he slowly nodded and pulled away from the tortoiseshell queen. “We- we wanted to see the gorge for ourselves. But Dad wouldn’t take us, and- so we snuck out. We’re sorry! We didn’t know-”

“Shh, darling. It’s alright. You’re safe now.” Ivyskip gently hushed her son and pulled him back against her again. “I believe them. Why would these Thunderclanners steal our kits just to bring them back?” She looked up with warm green eyes, bowing her head to each of them. “Thank you, all of you. You risked your lives to save my kits. I will never forget your kindness.”

Fireheart nodded back, even as exhaustion began to creep over him once again. “I’m just glad we were able to bring them back home. And I’m sure they’re glad, too.” He replied, turning back to the other three Riverclanners. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, but I assure you, not a single Thunderclanner is interested in stealing your kits. We already have enough trouble dealing with our own.”

Crookedstar’s whiskers twitched slightly at his words. “Well, in that case, Riverclan is grateful that you rescued them. I know it is not an easy task to swim in these floodwaters; doubly so for a cat not accustomed to swimming at all.” As he spoke, a spark lit in his gaze. “Say, Mistyskip, didn’t you mention something about rescuing a ginger Thunderclanner from the river a few moons ago?”

Fireheart’s ears flattened bitterly at the memory, and he was sure Graystripe was doing the same behind him. “Yes, Uncle. Him and the tom behind him were the very two Silverstream and I rescued.” Her blue eyes met his with a mischievous twinkle. “I’m glad to see that you two have learned how to swim since then.” 

He growled wordlessly in response, but she didn’t seem to take heed as she trotted past him to where Ivyskip was still holding her kits tightly. “Let’s get them up on the rocks. Leopardflame, if you would?”

The spotted deputy’s scowl worsened as she moved past the Thunderclan cats, gingerly picking up Robinkit before turning and leaping gracefully into the floodwaters. The three mollies were gone in mere moments with their charges, leaving only the Riverclan leader and the Thunderclan cats standing on the shoreline.

As Crookedstar turned away, presumably to follow them, Fireheart noticed how visible the leader’s hips were - not unlike, he realized, how Tallstar had been when they had led the Windclanners back home. He felt Graystripe and Peppermask tensing up beside him, and he knew they were thinking the same. “Crookedstar, may I speak to you for a moment?” He mewed quickly.

The normally muscular tabby turned back, his eyes wary but not hostile, as he regarded them with suspicion. “You have my attention.” The leader replied with a small courteous dip of his head.

“Let me be honest with you, Crookedstar.” The tabby’s tail tip twitched slightly as Fireheart spoke, but he nonetheless inclined his head slightly in agreement. “On the way here, Peppermask happened to catch a bird. She’s a good hunter; one of our best.” He glanced slightly to see her whiskers twitch as she acknowledged the praise, but he could see the worry etched clearly on her face. “We didn’t get a chance to decide what to do with it when the kits devoured it.”

Crookedstar sighed heavily and sat down, unbothered by the water that lapped around his paws. “I apologize for them. Kits can be impulsive, sometimes, and they must have been hungry from their little adventure. I promise you-”

“This wasn’t a matter of simple hunger. Those kits were starving. They cleaned those bones faster than a cat can lash their tail.” He could see the large tabby’s muscles tense up as he spoke. “You and I both know the warrior code says that kits must be fed first, and I don’t think those kits had eaten in the past quarter-moon. If they haven’t eaten, what about the rest of your Clan?”

The Riverclan leader’s scowl had returned as he glared at the presumptuous young Thunderclanner. “Perhaps you’re still unfamiliar with how the Clans work. Most warriors would consider it a grave offen-”

“I know that pointing out such weaknesses in another Clan is considered the highest of insults. But I also have to think that if those kits had had enough to eat, that they might not have needed our rescuing at all.” Fireheart took a deep breath to steady himself. He knew what he was thinking was essentially breaking the code. He also knew that if he didn’t speak up, he would never forgive himself. “If we hadn’t given them food, I’m not certain they would have lived through another quarter-moon. And now your lands are flooded, and you’ve admitted yourself that flood waters are difficult to navigate. You won’t be able to hunt until the flood subsides, and who knows when that will be?”

He could see Crookedstar’s lip curling as he listened to Fireheart speak. “Is there a point to this?” The other tom growled.

“There is, Crookedstar.” He dipped his head respectfully, though he was sure it didn’t feel like it to the tabby tom. “Now that newleaf has come, prey is returning to the forest. Many in Thunderclan have full bellies. Even though some of our best hunting territory is underwater, we can still spare prey, if it will ensure your Clan’s survival.”

The Thunderclan deputy and Riverclan leader stared at each other, gauging each other’s moods. Fireheart didn’t shy away from the other’s gaze; he meant every word he had said, even if it was tantamount to treason. “You claim that you are familiar with how the Clans work, and yet what you’re suggesting to me is antithetical to the very foundation of the Clans.” Crookedstar’s tone was carefully measured as he regarded the flame-colored deputy. “What will you ask for in return, hmm? Nothing comes without a price, and I will not indebt my Clan to yours when we are-”

“We ask for nothing. It was us, as you’ll recall, that traveled to bring Windclan home. We did not ask them for territory or prey then either. I don’t want Thunderclan to gain territory by exploiting the weakness of the Clans around us; if we are to expand our borders, it will be through battles with honorable warriors, as Starclan intends.” Even as he said it, he could tell Crookedstar was still skeptical. He wasn’t able to hold it against the other tom; he was certain that if Tigerclaw was speaking the same words, that he would absolutely intend to eventually use the favor against Riverclan. “Be honest with me, and with yourself, Crookedstar; if you cannot find prey by tomorrow, how many in your Clan will die of starvation?”

The tabby’s pale green eyes fell to the water he was sitting in, and he knew instantly that Crookedstar was picturing gaunt faces staring at him from the rocks. Had cats already died? “Be that as it may,” Crookedstar admitted with a heavy sigh, “the Clans have always survived independently. Starclan may - there will be those that go to greet them, but that is a warrior’s lot in life. I cannot burden my Clan to change that.”

“Perhaps it is not the duty of a warrior to care what happens to another Clan.” Fireheart answered readily, watching the leader’s proud stature even as his eyes were full of hunger, and his skin clung to his bones. “After all, the code tells us to care for our Clans above all else. But I have watched the code be used to defend driving out other Clans for the sake of one; I have watched the code be used to defend cold-blooded murder. Perhaps the code tells me that I should turn my back on Riverclan now, so that we can take Sunningrocks from the corpse of your Clan once the floodwaters go down. But I believe that being a warrior is about mercy as much as it is about strength, and so I will do what I can to alleviate your suffering, regardless of what the code says.”

They stared each other down for another long moment before Crookedstar’s eyes flicked to the two warriors behind him. “And what of you two? Do you agree with what your deputy says?” The leader asked dryly.

Fireheart didn’t dare look them in the eyes. “The code says that we cannot neglect a kit, no matter their origin.” He heard Peppermask mew behind him. “If we were to leave now to let your kits starve, then I think we would be breaking the code. If hunting for your Clan means that the kits will eat, and live, then it is my duty as a warrior to do so. Fireheart’s offer may be unconventional, but I believe he’s right.”

“Uh, yeah.” Graystripe mewed from his other side. “What my sister said.”

Crookedstar looked unable to believe his ears, his twisted jaw dropping slightly at their words. He looked down at his paws once again, seriously considering everything that had been said. “Perhaps you all have the bold-faced audacity to lie to my face.” He said at last, looking back up into Fireheart’s eyes with a vulnerable honesty he hadn’t had before. “But there is only so much I can do to argue when my Clan is dying. We barely managed to escape the flood when it surged through our camp. Frogleap is still missing because of it. My duty is to protect my Clan, no matter the cost. And whether the cost is Sunningrocks, or the river, or all of our lands; the code says that is a cost I must accept.” He looked away with another heavy sigh. “Very well. If Thunderclan should grant us some of their prey, then I will not - can not - turn it away.”

He wished he could convince the leader that his words were genuine, with no cost attached - but he knew better than to try. “We’ll be in the clearing behind us every day just after dawn. We’ll hunt for you until the floodwaters leave Sunningrocks.” He flicked his tail for the patrol to turn to leave. “Hopefully that day will come quickly.”

“Hopefully.” Crookedstar murmured, turning away from them and swimming back towards the rocks his Clan were huddled on without a further word. Fireheart turned away into the bracken as well, exhaustion from fighting the floodwaters and the task ahead creeping over him.

He had only stepped a few tail-lengths into the forest before Peppermask was whirling on him. “Are you mad?” She hissed - not angrily, he could tell, but from genuine fear. “How are you going to explain this to the rest of the Clan?”

He met her gaze evenly. He was past the point of caring what the Clan thought of him anymore - but he didn’t dare tell her that. “I won’t.” He replied simply, brushing past her to lead them back to camp. “They don’t have to even find out. How long can it be until the floods subside? A half-moon, maybe, or even a quarter-moon? If Graystripe could go moons without being caught having a Riverclan mate, I doubt anyone will even notice.” Even if they did, what would they do? The only cat that could exile him was curled up in her nest and could barely be prodded out. “I’m the deputy, after all. I can arrange the patrols to make sure no one’s ever around to find us. Besides, don’t you two pretend you didn’t want to offer the same thing.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it!” Still, he could hear her beginning to relax - his points made sense, after all. “Are you really planning on just the three of us doing this?”

“We’re both good hunters, and we have Graystripe to help as well.” Back when they were apprentices, that would have been a teasing joke, but there was no humor in his voice now. “That’s the size of an average hunting patrol. We could recruit others to help, but I don’t know if there’s anyone I’d trust to agree with what we’re doing and keep it a secret. We may not catch enough to feed their entire Clan, but hopefully it will at least be enough to keep them from starving.”

Peppermask was silent, clearly still trying to rationalize everything in her head. After a moment, he was surprised to hear Graystripe speak up. “I- Thank you, Fireheart. You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t look at the large tom behind him, keeping his eyes on the forest ahead. “I didn’t do it for you.” He responded.

“I know, but- still.” Graystripe didn’t have to say anything else - he already knew what the other was thinking. Kits, then queens, were fed first amongst all of the Clan. If the kits had been starving, then that meant that Silverstream had gone without food for just as long, if not longer, than they had. It was possible that if they didn’t help, she would have died. 

As much as he told Graystripe it hadn’t been for him, he couldn’t lie and pretend that hadn’t been in his mind when he had first offered to hunt for Riverclan. No matter what he thought of his former friend and his ill-fated romance, some small and sentimental part of him would never let Graystripe’s kits die. And though the task in front of them felt formidable to face down, he wouldn’t let fear stop him from doing the right thing.

“You’ve never been to a Gathering before?” Yellowfang retorted dryly, even as she sat down in front of him. “You go up on the Great Rock, you announce Thunderclan’s news when it’s your turn. Do a little bit of posturing with Crookedstar and Nightstar, and you’re done.”

“Yes, I- That’s not what I meant!” Fireheart sighed exasperatedly at the grumpy healer. Surely she understood why he was afraid? “The other Clans, they’ll ask questions about why Bluestar’s not there, and I don’t have a good answer! What if they think we’re weak now that we’ve lost our greatest fighter and attack us? We just drove off Brokentail’s rogues; we can’t afford to get into a war right now!”

Yellowfang watched him worry with half-lidded copper eyes. “Just tell them the same thing we told the Clan - that she’s sick and not yet well enough to travel tonight. As for the rest, trust in your warriors. If the other Clans try anything, I’m sure Thunderclan would be happy to put them in their place.” She huffed softly at him, standing up and brushing against his coat. “Make sure to announce your sister’s kits as well. Bluestar didn’t do that during the last Gathering, and five potential new warriors are enough to make any Clan think twice.”

“I- Okay.” He took a deep breath in and out. The old molly’s words were as wise as ever, even if layered in her usual dry wit. “Thank you, Yellowfang.”

She flicked her tail in acknowledgement as she trotted towards her den, leaving Fireheart to ascend the Highrock alone. He saw eyes glimmering at him from around camp - judging him, he was sure, for taking the leader’s place. He glanced down for a moment, before quickly pulling his head back. The Highrock was dizzyingly tall from up here - much too tall for him to dare ponder leaping down from. He tried to steady himself by looking up towards the foliage covering camp. Up here, on the giant rock that overlooked camp, it seemed to be only a short jump away from him. 

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!” He called out, watching as shadows darted out from all around the edges of camp to assemble beneath him. It was powerful to watch - he could only imagine how Bluestar had felt, the first time she came up onto the Highrock.

“As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, I’m not Bluestar.” No one laughed at his poor attempt at a joke, and he couldn’t tell if any whiskers had twitched even weakly at him. “Unfortunately, she hasn’t recovered enough from her illness to attend the Gathering tonight. I will be going in her stead.”

There was a great deal of grumbling over his words, but no cat dared to challenge him directly. “I will address the Clans with what happened. Until then, all that should be said is that Bluestar is ill and that I will answer everything when I speak. Is that clear?”

There was a little more grumbling, but it seemed that most cats had expected this. “Who’s going?” He heard a cat call - Cinderspark, he realized, picking her out of the crowd next to Snowkit.

He gulped, realizing he’d forgotten to think about who should go. He had been so busy fretting over Bluestar… “Well, uh, Yellowfang and Dewpaw will go, of course. And any elders and queens that want to come are welcome to do so.” As long as they could keep their mouths shut, he thought with a glance towards Patchpelt, who was scowling bitterly at him. 

He stared down at the warriors and apprentices, trying to remember who had remained behind in camp with him during the last Gathering. He also didn’t want cats there that might contradict him, or start a fight. “Er, Tinyfrost, Lionheart, Dappleshine, Peppermask…” All warriors that he trusted and was sure would follow his orders, but he needed to bring some apprentices as well - they wouldn’t take kindly to being left behind. “Uhm, Mistspring, Willowbranch, Brightpaw, and Cherrypaw. Oh, and Whitestorm will be in charge of camp while we’re gone.”

The crowd disbanded with disgruntled murmurs, but thankfully there were no protests over who he had chosen to go. He turned and quickly dismounted the Highrock, thankful to find himself on solid ground once more. Whitestorm gave him a courteous nod as he padded past the young deputy to sit by Bluestar’s den, patiently guarding the vulnerable leader inside. The cats he had called assembled by the camp entrance, watching him as he made his way over.

Fireheart led the patrol out of camp, trying not to let his anxieties show to the cats behind him. The Highrock had already seemed astronomical in size, and now he had to climb the Great Rock, which was even bigger - how was he supposed to look down on the whole Gathering and speak? He wasn’t afraid of heights - at least, he didn’t think he was - but the mere thought of standing next to the great leaders of the other Clans sent a bolt of fear through his heart. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t-

“Hey, Fireheart.” He turned to see Peppermask had padded up beside him as the patrol entered the forest. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it? The way the moonlight hits the branches and turns them silver… Leafbare might be miserable, but I think there’s a majesty in these silent nights.”

He tilted his head at her, baffled as to why she was bringing up such mundane matters. Still, as he glanced up at the trees as they traveled past, he had to admit she was right: the stark branches silhouetted against the stars, the way that the moon highlighted them against the night; at any other time, he would sit and admire the beauty of it all. “It is quite pretty.” He admitted slowly, turning to look back at the patrol behind him, but she gently slapped him with her tail and forced him to keep his eyes forward. “What? Do you need something?”

“You’re panicking.” She mewed, quietly enough that only he could hear. “Don’t focus on them. Focus on yourself, and what’s around you.”

He winced guiltily, knowing all too well she was right. “Is it that obvious?”

Her whiskers twitched as she gazed at him with her soothing green eyes. “The cats that don’t know you as well probably can’t tell. They don’t know what to look for. But I figured I’d stop you before your fear-scent overwhelmed us all…” She nudged him as they ran, a teasing grin lighting up her muzzle. “You can do this, Fireheart. You fought Tigerclaw and won; this is nothing compared to that.”

As much as he wanted to believe her, they both knew it wasn’t as simple as that. “At least with Tigerclaw, it was decided in moments. This is different. What if I mess up? I’m going to be speaking for the whole Clan, and I-”

“It’s a lot of responsibility, yes.” She interrupted him before he could spill all his worries out into the cold air. “But one bad Gathering isn’t going to change everything. It’s a lot of posturing, but that’s all it is; posturing. Our Clan is weak now, yes, but so are the others thanks to leafbare. They won’t want to risk their own Clans attacking right now, either. As long as you don’t make dirt out of them, I doubt you’ll be starting any wars tonight.”

The gray tabby was right, as she always was. He took a deep breath in and out, watching his breath billow out into a great cloud that dissipated as he jumped through it. “Thank you, Peppermask.” He told her softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Of course you don’t.” She purred in response as they began to slow. They had now reached the log bridge across the river; from here, it was only a short journey up the slope to Fourtrees. “I’ll stay here and make sure everyone gets across safely, since you don’t have a deputy to do it for you.”

He blinked gratefully at her and leaped up onto the slick log. This time, he didn’t hesitate about wrapping his paws around the smooth wood below him and scooting ungracefully across; with how thin the ice was, a fall would surely plunge him into the waters below, and he wasn’t eager to arrive at the Gathering soaked.

The first one to follow him was his old mentor, Tinyfrost. “Fireheart.” He said by way of greeting as he sat by the ginger tom. “I know no one has told you yet, but you’ve been doing a good job as deputy. Better than most Clan cats would, I suspect.”

The words of praise shocked him, and he stared at Tinyfrost in baffled confusion. “I- Thank you.” He stuttered out after several heartbeats. “You’re not jealous? You’re a better candidate than I would be.” One that had taught an apprentice, for starters, though he didn’t say that aloud.

Tinyfrost chuffed as though he’d told a particularly funny joke. “Jealous? Hardly. I don’t think any cat would want to be in your paws - except Tigerclaw, apparently.” He sneered at the name of his banished enemy. “Being deputy is a thankless task, and you’ve not even Bluestar to help guide you. I’m sure a lesser cat would be flattened under the weight of it all.”

Fireheart glanced across the bridge, where Peppermask was watching carefully as Brightpaw was inching across. Had he been listening to her comfort him? He wasn’t sure, and didn’t dare to ask. “I’m doing my best.” He mewed at last. 

“I’m sure it will be enough. I’ve seen what happens when you put your mind to something. Only a fool would stand in your way then.” Tinyfrost watched Cherrypaw step up onto the bridge, his icy gaze unreadable. “Good luck with the Gathering, Fireheart. Don’t let them intimidate you.” 

With that, the little tom slipped off to go speak to Lionheart, leaving the ruddy deputy still slightly bewildered at the whole conversation. He didn’t get a chance to ponder it as Peppermask dropped down beside him. “That’s everyone.” She told him with a curt nod. 

“Thank you.” He gave her a quick nudge of affection before standing and flicking his tail for the Gathering patrol to follow him. They did so readily, climbing the slope to Fourtrees just as they had done for moons and moons before. He tried not to wish that Bluestar was beside him, just as strong and regal as she had always been before Tigerclaw’s attack.

He paused at the top of the slope. He could see dozens of cats gathered below, sharing tongues like old friends. On the Great Rock, he could see six shapes, with more clustered in its shadow; it seemed as though Thunderclan was the last to arrive. He swallowed hard, trying not to let fear well up in him once more. “Remember; I will explain everything when the Gathering starts. Don’t let the other Clans goad you.” He glanced at the end of the line, where the apprentices were crouched. He hoped they would have as much sense as he had had at their age, but he didn’t know them well enough to judge that for certain.

Still, he tried not to let it bother him as he raised his tail in silent signal for the others to follow him down the slope. Once more, he felt a rush of wild joy as they careened down the slope as one, their paws thudding against the ground in time. The crowd of cats looked up to them, perking ears and waving tails in greeting as the Thunderclan cats began to mingle among them.

Fireheart took one last deep breath at the base of the slope before making his way through the crowd, padding up to the base of the Great Rock. Yellowfang and Dewpaw slipped off from behind him over to where the healers were talking, leaving him alone to clamber atop the boulder and meet with the leaders and other deputies.

He had only just made it to the top when he was greeted with two bristling cats. “The Great Rock is for deputies and leaders only!” Leopardflame was snarling in his face before he even had time to react. “What are you doing here? Where’s Bluestar?”

His heart raced in his chest, but he stood his ground against the two. “I know that. I’m Thunderclan’s deputy now.” He responded, doing his best to keep cool and level-headed like Bluestar would. “Bluestar couldn’t make it tonight. I’ll be addressing the Gathering in her place.”

“You? Deputy?” The dark gray tom beside the spotted Riverclan deputy stepped forward, tail lashing. “Who’s your apprentice? What happened to Tigerclaw?”

“None of the Thunderclan cats seem to be surprised.” Fireheart blinked past the two glaring at him to see Tallstar peering over the edge of the Great Rock at the crowd below. “Fireheart may be an outsider, but he is familiar with our customs, and he has a warrior’s spirit. If he says he is deputy now, I believe him.”

The other two leaders glanced at the Windclan tom, considering his words. At last, Nightstar flicked his tail to the tom beside Leopardflame. “Tallstar speaks true. It seems Thunderclan has had a change of leadership. Stand down, Wolfstep.” The dark gray tom only bristled further, even as he glanced furtively back at his leader. “Now. That is an order.”

“You too, Leopardflame.” Crookedstar regarded Fireheart with a nonchalant air, his yellow-green gaze as unreadable as Bluestar’s often was. “There’s no need to intimidate Thunderclan’s new deputy right now.”

The two deputies glanced at each other, as though considering openly defying their leaders. At last, they stepped back, glowering at the ginger tom as he stepped past them to sit next to the other leaders - where Bluestar belonged, if she were at the Gathering.

“What has happened to Bluestar?” Fireheart turned his head to Crookedstar, who was scrutinizing him now. The light tabby’s tail twitched, and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of concern in the Riverclan leader’s eyes. “Why exactly could she not make it tonight? And why has she replaced her deputy so suddenly?”

He glanced at the other cats surrounding him, trying to figure out how to properly word what had happened. After a long moment, he realized it would take much too long to explain the whole sordid story to them privately. “Bluestar is currently unwell, and needs rest. I don’t wish to repeat myself, so I will explain everything once the Gathering has started. It is a long story, so I would like to go first, if that is alright.”

Everyone else didn’t seem pleased with his answer, but after being told off by their leaders the deputies didn’t seem interested in arguing with him. “I see.” Crookedstar rumbled at last, frowning at the Thunderclan cat in front of him. “Well, as the oldest leader among us, it is up to Tallstar to decide the order in which we speak.”

The black and white tom scoffed at the other leader. “Oh, don’t pretend as if you aren’t as curious as I am! I’m sure we’re all very interested in hearing what news he has to share. Very well, Fireheart; Thunderclan may announce their news first.” He pondered the other two leaders for a moment. “Shadowclan will be next, then Riverclan. I will go last.” 

Crookedstar and Nightstar nodded their acceptance of his order. Fireheart wondered briefly if there was some sort of power dynamic at work here that he was not privy to; had he upset them by asking to go first? He didn’t get the chance to ask as Tallstar stepped forward and let out a yowl loud enough to be heard across all the Clan territories.

“Cats of all the Clans!” The Windclan leader called, looking down on the crowd as they began to assemble below him. “Even though the gentle warmth of newleaf beckons, the cold chill of leafbare still grips us, and my thin Windclan pelt can hardly handle the breeze up here on the Great Rock.” His whiskers twitched as he looked down on the cats below, purrs rippling through the crowd. “And so, now that all of us are here, I’d like to get started, so I can get back to my warm nest before my whiskers freeze off!”

With that, he stepped back, turning and giving a stately nod of respect to Fireheart as he sat down. The Thunderclanner gulped, suddenly feeling as though a hard rock had lodged itself in his throat. Still, he took his place at the front of the rock, hoping his fear didn’t show to all the cats below. And below they were - it was quite a distance down from the rock to the crowd. Several fox-lengths at least, he thought, maybe even more - a dangerous height to fall from. If he slipped-

He shook his head and looked up to the stars that twinkled merrily above. Starclan was watching over him - they wouldn’t let him fall. He would be fine. The only question was, where did he start?

“Cats of all Clans,” He began, trying not to let his voice shake as he addressed them. “At the beginning of leafbare, Thunderclan found evidence that Brokentail and his group of rogues had settled on our border. Knowing the danger that these cats presented, not just to us, but to all the Clans, Thunderclan decided to strike swiftly. We invaded their camp - myself included - and dealt what we believed was a decisive blow.”

Whispers broke out amongst the crowd as they wondered where he was going - even the Thunderclan cats seemed a bit confused. “Over these past moons, we had not seen even a whisker of the rogues. We believed we were victorious.” He glanced down at his paws, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “We were wrong.”

“Less than a moon ago, they attacked our camp. A common tactic of theirs, one that they often utilized when they held Shadowclan hostage. If it had just been the rogues, then Thunderclan would have fended them off, just as we have before. But it was not.” He raised his head to look out at the cats below. They were silent now, hanging on his every word. “Unbeknownst to us, two of our own were traitors - wicked cats that sought to use Brokentail’s band for their own benefit. Those cats were Tigerclaw and his old apprentice, Darkstripe.”

He paused, heartbeats of silence stretching out as the crowd processed his words. Then there were yowls of shock and outrage below as the other Clans fully absorbed the weight of his words. A glance to the cats on the rock found them staring at him in horror: the other deputies especially, who had sat beside the accused tom and shared tongues only the moon prior. 

He waited for them to settle down, which took several tense moments. “Not only had Tigerclaw shown them the way to our camp, but he also laced prey he gave to Bluestar with a potent poison - one that she only survived through the grace of Starclan. She still recovers from its effects now, which is why she could not come tonight.” He could see approving nods from some of the senior Thunderclan warriors below as he spoke. Not only was poison a snake-hearted tactic, one that would solidify Tigerclaw’s status as a traitor, but it would also explain any strange weakness that still plagued their silver leader in the coming moons. 

“By doing this, he hoped to gain control of Thunderclan, with Brokentail’s rogues helping to keep us hostage. Had our brave warriors not realized his plot in time, he likely would have succeeded.” Fireheart shook his head, the mere thought of Tigerclaw succeeding enough to strike fear in his heart. “Thankfully, Thunderclan managed to repel the rogue invasion. Not only that, but I bear news that many among you will enjoy hearing; during the fight, one of our warriors dealt a fatal blow to Brokentail, who was on his last life. Our healer confirmed his death and buried him as was appropriate for his deeds.”

Howls of dark joy erupted from below as he spoke. There was not a single cat in the Clans that had not been affected by his terrible reign over Shadowclan, and only a few had even the slightest reason to mourn him. He blinked as Nightstar and Tallstar both stepped forward beside him.

“This is a joyous moon indeed if that foxheart no longer walks among the living.” Nightstar yowled as the crowd simmered down below him. “No Clan knows better than Shadowclan the depths of what that kit-killer is capable of. Knowing his great evil can no longer threaten us is an immense relief, one that we thank Thunderclan for granting us.”

“No Clan besides Windclan, you mean.” Tallstar growled from Fireheart’s other side. “Long have the ghosts of my fallen Clanmates begged for vengeance against the invader that drove us from our home. I have often wished that I could strip each life from that undeserving criminal, that worst of villains, and inflict upon him the pain and suffering of each and every Windclanner by a hundredfold. Revenge is not always the answer, but there is nothing else that Brokentail deserves.”

There were yowls of agreement from the Windclanners below; Fireheart spotted Thrushwing among them, howling her grief for the cats that had been lost at Brokentail’s claws. “Windclan thanks Thunderclan once more for what they have done. May Starclan bless you for moons to come.” With that, the skinny Windclan leader stepped back to allow Fireheart to continue.

He thought for a moment that Nightstar might respond to Tallstar’s cutting comments, but instead the dark Shadowclanner stepped back as well, leaving the ginger tom alone at the front of the Great Rock. “Tigerclaw and Darkstripe were banished for their crimes against Thunderclan and against the code.” He continued once the crowd had finally silenced. “We have reason to believe they are now traveling in league with Brokentail’s band, and were last spotted heading across the Thunderpath, towards Shadowclan territory.”

The Clan cats below him were more solemn now as he spoke, reminding them of the reason Brokentail’s rogues had attacked in the first place. “They are to be considered a danger to all the Clans, and should not be approached alone. Thunderclan disavows them, and recommends they be killed on sight, just like any other murdering rogue would.” Fireheart could see cats nodding below him, and even the leaders beside him seemed to agree with his words. “As you may have guessed, I have been named Thunderclan’s new deputy by Bluestar.” At least for now, he thought to himself. Once Bluestar was better, she would name a different deputy - a better deputy.

“In lighter news, Thunderclan has welcomed five new kits to our nursery; Cloudkit, Rainkit, Lynxkit, Sorrelkit, and Sootkit.” Fireheart couldn’t help but purr at the thought of his sister’s kits; they were walking now, and even starting to climb out of their nests. It wouldn’t be long before they were real pawfuls that all the queens would have to work to keep in line. “I am certain that they will soon be great warriors of Thunderclan, and serve the code and Starclan faithfully.”

He stumbled back to stand by the other leaders, his head beginning to reel as he finished. He had managed to get through the worst of it; whatever else happened now, at least the other Clans knew of Tigerclaw’s treachery. He watched as Nightstar stepped forward, but his ears buzzed as the other leader began speaking. He took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm himself. 

He felt a nudge against his shoulder, and looked to see Tallstar looking down at him with gentle golden eyes. “You did well.” The black-and-white leader mewed quietly, so that only the two of them could hear. “I am sorry to hear about Tigerclaw. When I heard you speak of him on our return home, I did not… I had not realized how far he was willing to go for power. Perhaps I should have offered to intervene, on your behalf.”

Fireheart blinked gratefully at the Windclan tom, even as he shook his head. “I don’t think it would have prevented anything. Tigerclaw was cunning and hid his tracks well. If you had done anything, I think he would have manipulated our Clan into going to war against yours.”

Tallstar’s brows furrowed with worry as he spoke. “You may be right. It has been a long time since Thunderclan and Windclan have been at war, something that has only been prevented by Bluestar’s desire to keep the peace. Sometimes I forget that not all cats have seen the horrors that resulted from those bitter days.” He sighed and shook his head, redirecting his gaze to Nightstar at the front. “We will keep watch for Tigerclaw, and give him no quarter if he comes to our moors. And should Thunderclan ever need help, know that you need only ask and Windclan will aid you.”

Fireheart nodded mutely at the Windclan leader, unsure what else to say, but the black and white tom turned his ears to the front of the Great Rock, leaving the ginger tom alone with his thoughts. He had gotten through the most daunting part of the Gathering now; whatever else happened, it would turn out fine. Instead, he allowed his thoughts to drift away; thoughts of a better moon ahead, when Bluestar had recovered and the Clan thrived.

"Is everything alright?" He asked her carefully. He had never seen the perceptive warrior so nervous before.

She hesitated for a long moment, then sighed and shrugged. "I'm sure we'll discuss it with Bluestar." With that, she swiftly departed, her gray fur shining in the morning light as she entered camp.

Fireheart took only a moment to stretch and shake himself out before following her to the leader's den. He stopped in front of the lichen covering as it swished behind her, a shiver running up his spine. He had never been inside before. He remembered what Graystripe had said, his first day in camp; "Every cat gets called inside Bluestar’s den, at some point. You just gotta hope you’re not in trouble when you do!"

He certainly hoped he wasn't in trouble now.

He pushed his way through, his eyes quickly adjusting to the shadows. The den was larger than he had expected, almost the size of the apprentices' den, perhaps a bit larger. In the back, he could see one large nest on a flat stone, presumably Bluestar's, though he couldn't make out much more than that. 

He didn't get much chance to examine his surroundings before Bluestar spoke in front of him. "There you are, Fireheart. I hope you got enough sleep." He swung his head towards her, trying to detect if she was being sarcastic, but she seemed genuine enough.

"I did, thank you." He looked around to see the other cats inside. There were only the three newest warriors, Bluestar, and Quickflash. He supposed that made sense; he was both their father and the deputy, after all.

The great leader nodded at his words. "I'll get to the point, then. I assume you know why you're here?"

Fireheart dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Because of the Gathering last night, right? You want us to find Windclan and bring them home."

"Indeed." Bluestar studied him carefully. "I admit I was hasty last night. You three have been warriors for less than a season now. Assigning three young warriors to such an important mission is… unconventional, to be sure." She glanced at Quickflash, who merely flicked his ear. "I have faith in you, but I want to be sure you have faith in yourselves. If you do not think you are prepared, I will not think less of you for choosing not to go."

He considered her words. Indeed, part of him was still nervous at the thought of failing such a momentous task. But part of him was excited, too. He had never met Windclan before, and was eager for the opportunity to do so. And the words he had heard from both Yellowfang and Redtail echoed through his mind. Fire alone can save our Clan; perhaps he was also destined to save Windclan too? "I'll go." He finally said out loud.

"Me too." Graystripe announced, puffing out his chest. "I know we can do this. Right, Peppermask?"

His sister, however, was frowning, just as she had been the night before. "Bluestar, I mean no offense." She mewed quietly as she finally met the leader's gaze. "But why us? You're right; we're young and inexperienced. Surely it would be better to send senior warriors, right?"

The silver queen dipped her head at the other molly's question. "Certainly, there are some that might agree with that line of thinking." She replied smoothly, as though she had been expecting the question. "But after thinking about it, I have realized that I wouldn't have chosen anyone else for this mission."

Peppermask narrowed her eyes at that. "Why not Whitestorm? Lionheart? Dappleshine? Why us?" 

Bluestar shook her head. "They have their own skills, yes, but so do you. Fireheart has experience traversing unfamiliar ground and dealing with Twolegs that will be invaluable on your travels. Dappleshine tells me that you, Peppermask, are one of the best trackers in the Clan, not to mention your swiftness and cunning will be invaluable in pursuing Windclan beyond their borders. And Graystripe is growing to be one of the best fighters in the Clan, or so Lionheart says. You three will be prepared for any obstacles you may face beyond our borders." The two toms straightened proudly at the leader's praise, while Peppermask looked on dubiously.

"Do you really think we can find them? After all this time? When not even Shadowclan could?" She pressed the leader anxiously.

"I doubt Shadowclan was truly looking for them, once they were certain that they had the moorlands under their control." Bluestar dismissed her concern with a flick of her tail. "While finding them may be a difficult task, you are looking for an entire Clan; warriors, kits, queens, and elders. They will most definitely have left a trail behind, and they could not have gone too far. If they are still out there, I am certain you three will find them."

"C'mon, Peppermask! Live a little!" Graystripe urged, nudging his sister heartily. "It'll be an adventure! We could become legends!"

She snorted crossly. "Well, I prefer to think these things through. We'll only have each other to rely on if something goes wrong. It could be extremely dangerous."

"We didn't become warriors by avoiding danger, you know." Fireheart pointed out on her other side. "I trust you, Peppermask. With you by our side, I know we'll be able to find Windclan."

She sighed, looking down at her light-colored paws for a long moment before nodding. "Alright. I'll go as well."

"I'm glad to hear it." Bluestar purred. "I've already arranged with Yellowfang to have traveling herbs waiting for you three. You can leave as soon as you're ready."

As the three stood, Quickflash stepped forward. "Be safe, all of you. Your mother and I will be waiting for your successful return." He touched noses with each of them, including Fireheart. "May Starclan light your path."

The three of them exited the shady den into the bright morning light, Fireheart squinting his eyes as they adjusted. "So we get traveling herbs, and then… that's it? We go?" He questioned the other two, but they seemed just as lost as him.

"I suppose so." Peppermask nodded to the crack in the gorge. "To the healer's den, then."

As they entered, only Yellowfang was waiting for them. "There you are." The grizzled gray molly grunted, turning to collect three herb packets and place them in front of the warriors. "Swallow them whole if you can. They last longer that way."

Fireheart unfurled his leaf to see several frilly leaves mixed in with the herbs he remembered from before. "What are these? And where is Dewpaw?" He asked, poking one leaf with a single claw.

"Feverfew. The stuff we have is a bit stale, so I figured you might as well have them before they go bad. Dewpaw went out with her sister to go collect more before a leafbare freeze gets them." She sighed and shook her head mournfully. "We'll be lucky if we make it through with only a few cases of whitecough."

Fireheart nodded and bent down to lap up the herbs. They were as bitter as before, though this time he could've sworn they tasted slightly like squirrel. "Thank you, Yellowfang." He murmured softly.

She grunted. "May Starclan light your path." With that, she turned her back to the three warriors as she began sorting through the herb stocks, evidently dismissing them.

The camp was mostly empty as they emerged from the den, most warriors being out on patrol this time of day. Those that remained, however, gave them respectful nods as they went past. All the Clan must have heard by now the mission they had been given, and none dared to stand in their way.

"I guess that's it, then." Graystripe meowed with a nervous purr. "Where do you think we should start?"

"We need to find Windclan camp." Peppermask responded slowly as she looked around, taking in their camp. Her tail was still flicking nervously, and Fireheart couldn't fault her; this was the last time they would be in camp for a while. It felt strange to leave it for more than a day, after he had spent so long confined to it. "So I guess we head for Fourtrees."

"To Fourtrees, then." The two toms echoed. With one final, resolute nod to each other, the three warriors departed from their camp, determined to find the lost Windclanners at any cost.

Though the wind was brisk in the late leaffall morning, the sun that shone through the canopy was strong enough to warm their coats as the three young warriors traveled swiftly through Thunderclan territory towards Fourtrees. Fireheart’s heart beat quickly with anticipation as he leaped over twisted roots and fallen logs. He did his best to keep his mind from wandering as they ran; he feared that if he thought too much on the journey ahead of them, the importance of the task would overwhelm him and stop him in his tracks.

They slowed as they came to the river at the edge of their territory, the tree crossing that they used to get to Fourtrees in front of them. As his eyes trailed across the slippery log, he spotted a Riverclan border patrol on the other side. He flicked an ear nervously to the other two as they began making their way down the slope.

“They have to let us pass, right?” Graystripe hissed to the other two. “I mean, we’re on a special mission. Crookedstar himself agreed to it!”

“Of course. We’ll be fine.” Even so, Fireheart could hear the wariness in the gray molly’s voice as they made their way down the slope to the river. She had good reason to be; as they came closer, it was easy to spy the golden pelt of Leopardflame, Riverclan’s zealous deputy that had argued with Bluestar the night before. He could see her catch sight of them at the same time, her ears flattening as they approached.

“Well, well.” The spotted tabby’s growl reached them across the bubbling of the river. “A Thunderclan patrol, hoping to cross to our side of the river? I should hope not.” Her golden-green eyes simmered with unbridled fury as she glared at them, planting her paws firmly at the other end of the river crossing as though daring them to cross.

His heart sank as he listened to her words. “Come now, Leopardflame. You know we’re only passing through.” He kept his voice light and friendly as he spoke, hoping to appease her. 

The deputy’s lips curled up in a snarl. “All I see are three nosy and overly righteous Thunderclanners trying to trespass right in front of our border patrol.” She spat back. “It doesn’t matter what you think you’re going to do. You’ll not do it on Riverclan territory, not while I’m around.”

Though he could feel the fur on his tail beginning to rise, he forced it to lay flat and swished it languidly instead. “Crookedstar agreed to let us go on this mission. You don’t have any reason to turn us away.” He pleaded gently with her, though he knew in his heart it wasn’t worth the breath.

She snorted. “Did he? I don’t remember that.” 

As he opened his mouth to respond, Peppermask tapped him on the leg with her tail. “Don’t bother, there’s no point. We can take the Thunderpath bridge instead. It’ll be dangerous, but…”

“Nonsense.” Fireheart startled as a silver-furred and blue-eyed molly stepped forward from behind Leopardflame. For a moment, he wondered how Bluestar had managed to get across the river faster than the patrol; then he realized she was missing the scar on her shoulder. “Enough of this, Leopardflame. Do you think Crookedstar would be pleased to hear about you going back on his word? Or your father to hear about how you turned away the patrol sent for Birchbark and Windclan? They were good friends, before Brokentail’s attack, as I’m sure you remember.”

The first molly directed a dark, furious glare at the one behind her. “Who says they have to hear of it?” She spoke, her voice so soft that Fireheart could hardly catch it over the bubbling of the river.

The other Riverclanner met her glare with a decidedly detached gaze. “Because my uncle will ask me what happened on this patrol. It’s up to you exactly what I’ll tell him.”

There was a silent staring contest between the two, a battle of wills that the Thunderclanners didn’t dare to interrupt. At last, Leopardflame turned away with a low growl. “Whatever. We still have to reset the border under the bridge and return before sunhigh.” She hissed, before glaring over at the Thunderclanners. “If I catch any of you lingering when we come back, you can be certain there’ll be trouble.” She spat at them as she began walking off along the riverbank, her tail twitching even as she held it high.

Her patrol followed along uneasily, the silver molly giving a respectful dip of her head to the three before following. As soon as they were out of sight, all three of the Thunderclan warriors scrambled over the log and up the slope to Fourtrees. “I heard Leopardflame could be stubborn, but I never imagined she could be that bad!” Graystripe mewed as they reached the edge of the large hollow containing the Great Rock and Fourtrees.

“You’re telling me. She acted like we’d bitten off her tail!” Fireheart responded as they padded down the slope. “And who was that molly that spoke back to her? The one that looked just like Bluestar?”

“Huh?” Graystripe shot him a puzzled look. “Oh, you mean Mistyskip? I guess she does look a bit like Bluestar.” Fireheart scoffed at that. The two looked practically identical, were it not for the scar! “She’s Stonestep’s sister. You’ve met him, yea? Their father is Oakheart, which makes Crookedstar their uncle.”

“Ah. That explains why Leopardflame caved when she mentioned her uncle.” Fireheart nodded appreciatively. “I’m glad she stepped up for us. I was sure Peppermask was right and we’d have to take the Thunderpath.”

“She seemed very reasonable when I met her at the Gathering.” The silver spotted warrior mewed as they padded over the grassy clearing. “I guess where Stonestep takes after his father, she’s always idolized Crookedstar more. They’re both very clever and wise.”

“If only Leopardflame was too.” The gray tom beside him grumbled. “Talk about an unlucky start to our mission!”

Fireheart shrugged. “It was a minor obstacle, nothing more.” He nodded to the shadow of the Great Rock. “Do you think we should rest here and wait for sunhigh to pass?” While it was still a ways away from sunhigh, he wasn’t sure when they’d get another chance to rest.

Peppermask shook her head. “Windclan territory is huge, remember? We’re going to need all the time we can get to try and find their camp before the sun sets.”

Though he wasn’t looking forward to trudging through the tall grass of Windclan territory at the sun’s zenith, he had to agree with her logic. When they had traveled the moors before, it had been almost sunset by the time they arrived on the other side. If they didn’t find the camp before night fell, then they would have to hope they could find shelter in unfamiliar territory, or risk being attacked by owls, foxes, and other horrors that lurked in the darkness.

When neither disagreed with her, the young molly flicked her tail forward in a silent command to move. The three bounded their way up the far side of Fourtrees, making their way over the roots of one tree to reach the top. Fireheart looked over the grass, trying to spot any sign of a camp from where they were, but it was just endless waves of green and gold as far as the eye could see.

“I don’t suppose there’s any Windclan tracks we can follow?” Graystripe supplied unhelpfully. Fireheart sniffed at the air and looked over the ground, but he knew in his heart that any Windclan scent or tracks had been long swept away by greenleaf storms.

“No. I doubt any of the Shadowclan tracks lead directly to their camp, either.” Peppermask sighed as she surveyed the moors. “We’ll just have to walk until we find it.”

He suppressed a groan, following her down into the grasses beneath them. The scent of Shadowclan was still ever-present as they traveled; though it was several days old, it still made the Thunderclan warrior nervous. If there were any fresher scents around, it would be difficult to tell under the old ones. The walls of grass pressing in on either side of him didn’t help matters; he felt as though he was being hemmed in with no way to escape. Though he said nothing, he had a feeling the other two were of a similar mind.

It was worse when there were no markers by which to tell the way. Without being able to see, he couldn’t tell if they were walking in circles or not. The only thing that truly seemed to change was the position of the sun in the sky, as it reached its height and began setting towards the horizon.

His legs were beginning to ache from the unceasing pace when Peppermask finally slowed to a walk, her nose bobbing in the air as she tried in vain to catch a scent. “We’re not getting anywhere like this. We’re just going to tire ourselves out running around.”

“What do you think we should do, then?” Graystripe questioned from his position at the back of the patrol. “I mean, it’s not like we can just call for them and expect them to answer…”

Peppermask shook her head. “Maybe we could head for Highstones instead? Though I don’t know if even Starclan’s sight will be able to help us…”

Fireheart considered that for a moment, an idea forming in his mind. “Maybe we don’t need to go all the way to Highstones for Starclan’s sight.”

Graystripe tilted his head quizzically. “What, you expect them to visit us here? I don’t think even Redtail’s spirit will leave the forest.”

The ginger tom shook his head. “No, what I mean is that we need a higher perspective, like Starclan has, if we’re going to find their camp. There has to be something out here besides grass and some heather, right?” He gestured to the clump of light flowers they had stopped beside. “Maybe if we can get up above the grass, we’ll be able to see some sort of sign that will help point us in the right direction.”

Peppermask blinked, her ears perking up as he spoke. “That’s not a bad idea at all.” She mewed with a hint of surprise and delight. “Hey, Graystripe, help boost me up.”

The large tom complied as his sister stood on her hind paws, not unlike a Twoleg, using her front paws on his back to steady herself. Her eyes barely reached over the wild grass, but after a few moments of surveying she dropped back to four paws with a trill of joy. “There’s a tree over this way we could use!”

They followed her, their hope renewed at the potential breakthrough. It was scarcely any time at all before they had made their way to the base of a crooked, windswept tree that looked as though it had died several season-cycles prior. Fireheart eyed it warily. “Are you sure it’ll support our weight? It looks like it’ll break in a strong gust.”

Graystripe leaped onto it, claws digging into the wood to support himself. It swayed a bit, but there was no cracking or breaking that any of them could tell. “I think it’s fine, as long as we keep to the main branches.” He called down to the other two.

The other two quickly joined him, the three of them taking up positions in the tree so that they could see the entire horizon. As Fireheart scanned, searching for any sign of a camp, Graystripe called out. “Hey, look at that giant pile of gorse!”

The other two turned to see what he was talking about. Indeed, there was a large circle of flowering gorse bushes far in the distance, forming a thick wall against the elements. “It definitely looks big enough to be a camp from here.” His sister replied. “Probably the only place that can protect against the wind out here. We should check it out.”

“Agreed.” Fireheart made his way down the tree, the other two landing beside him moments later. “If not, we can probably wait there for the night. I don’t want to be caught out in the dark.”

“It will be.” Graystripe replied with such conviction Fireheart found it hard to doubt him. Together, they moved in the direction of the gorse, making occasional stops to check and make sure they were still on the right path.

The stale scent of Shadowclan, though easily a moon old, still became stronger as they approached until it was almost overwhelming. “Brokentail really had to rub it in, didn’t he? It wasn’t enough to just drive them out of their home.” Peppermask’s voice was low and tinted with disgust and ire. 

“Nothing was ever enough for him.” The ruddy warrior replied with disdain. “The whole forest wouldn’t have been enough territory, either.”

The gorse bushes loomed over them, and for a moment Fireheart thought about suggesting they circle it looking for an entrance. However, it was clear there was no need for that. Though the bushes had partially healed themselves with time, he could see holes that had been clawed through, large enough for cats to enter or escape. Lingering remnants of the attack, he supposed.

“Here.” Peppermask nosed one of the wider holes that hadn’t grown over much. Though Graystripe had to crouch to enter, they made their way into the hollow, anxiously awaiting what they would find.

The hollow was made of sandy dirt, loose on the edges where they were standing but compacted by pawprints closer to the center. In the middle sat a large, crooked, silver-colored birch tree that was just barely taller than the gorse bushes. He could spy another, smaller hawthorn tree on the far end, and near them was a shallow cave that burrowed into the earth. There were other places where branches of dead gorse were woven together and attached to the still living bushes; various dens that the Windclanners had made over time, he supposed. 

Even despite the season that had passed, evidence of the attack remained. Broken nests and branches were strewn around, and blood stained various areas of the hollow. A few tufts of fur were still caught in the gorse, light and dark alike. And even now, as he drew the air over his tongue to scent it, he could catch faint hints of fear that lingered.

“I guess we’ve found their camp.” Graystripe mewed as they looked around. “It’s horrible… I can’t even imagine what it’s supposed to look like, normally. To think this used to be as busy as our camp once.”

His heart ached at the thought. They hadn’t been so far away from a fate like that, themselves. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like for a Windclanner to see their camp ravaged like this.

“It’s strange, though.” Peppermask was looking around, her ears low. “Where are all the bodies? I’m sure Shadowclan had time to retrieve their dead, but Windclan… I can’t imagine they all survived the attack.”

Fireheart blinked as he looked around. She was right: even despite the pools of blood, the sort of blood loss that few cats could survive, there were no bodies laying around.

“That is strange.” He agreed out loud now, looking to the other two for their thoughts. “Brokentail was hardly the type to respect Starclan and bury the enemy dead.”

Graystripe's eyes suddenly widened and his fur bristled. "You don't think Brokentail took them and..." He paused, dropping his voice to an almost whisper, "ate them, do you?"

He felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought, and he could see Peppermask bristling beside him. The mere thought was horrific to think about, but it made sense in a cruel and twisted way. After all, Brokentail had rarely spared warriors to go hunting. Was it so far a stretch to think he would have fed them their fallen enemies?

After a long, horrible silence, Peppermask slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. There’s no way that we wouldn’t have noticed cat corpses while we were in Shadowclan camp.”

The ginger tom breathed a sigh of relief at the perceptive molly’s words. She was right, of course; though there had been lots of crowfood strewn about, it had all been small and visibly half-eaten. “Yeah, you’re right.” He frowned immediately after. “But that still doesn’t explain where the bodies went, then.”

Peppermask nodded slowly. “Well, bodies are pretty heavy. We should look around; we might find a trail.”

“We should be careful, though.” Fireheart glanced towards the shallow den he had spotted earlier. “I doubt Shadowclan was patrolling around here very often. We don’t know if anything might have moved in since Windclan was driven out.”

The three of them all instinctively tasted the air for fox or badger scent, but it was hard to smell anything under the stench Brokentail had left. “We’ll just have to be careful. Yowl if you find anything.” With that, the silver molly headed for the tree on the other side of camp.

The young ruddy warrior waved his tail towards the cave. “Help me check out what’s in there? I’m worried it could be a badger sett.” 

Graystripe nodded. “It does look like one, doesn’t it? Though I suppose there’s not much else to make a den out of.” With that, the two cautiously prowled towards it, Fireheart taking the lead as he made his way slowly inside. 

The air inside was old and stale, but the smells were familiar, almost comforting. Scattered on the floor of the den were dozens of now dried leaves and flowers, turned mostly brown in the dry air. “This must have been the healer’s den.” Fireheart mused aloud as he turned over one frail leaf scrap with a claw.

“Birchbark, wasn’t it?” Graystripe asked as he entered and looked around, the other tom glancing around with him. The den was smaller than the healer’s den in the Thunderclan camp, with only room for a couple of nests. He wondered what they would do in the case of an outbreak, or a difficult battle. “Well, no badgers in here, at least. I’m gonna go check out some of the other dens.”

“Sure.” He flicked an ear in goodbye as the dark gray warrior turned and left, leaving him alone amongst the herb wreckage. 

He sniffed around, searching for some sort of clue. Interestingly, there was no blood: either Birchbark hadn’t fought back, or Brokentail’s assault had never entered the healer’s den. But then, why were all the herbs in such disarray? Perhaps, he reasoned, Birchbark had grabbed several of them in a hurry when he heard fighting, not realizing how bad the situation was.

He gazed over the herbs, hoping that perhaps they had left some secret signal that indicated where they were going, but he knew in his heart that there was nothing else left to find here. Mildly discouraged, he exited the den, his eyes adjusting once more to the still bright sunlight outside.

He padded towards the tree in the middle of camp. Though it was visibly gnarled, it was strangely beautiful in the way it twisted and turned until the canopy reached for the sky above. Encircling its base was a small stream of rainwater, which the roots grew through eagerly. At the very base, in the tangle of roots, was a single nest, woven in with the roots as though it were growing out of them. The leader’s nest, he figured.

Moss had been dragged out of it, all the way down to the water’s edge. Some of it was soaked up with blood, he noticed; the Windclan leader had been attacked as he was sleeping, or at the very least in his nest. He crossed the protective stream and halfheartedly collected the moss back into the nest with a paw, though he didn’t really know why; it wasn’t as though it would do anything either way. 

He looked up as he heard a yowl echo through camp. “Hey, over here!” Peppermask called, and he swiftly climbed over the birch roots towards her, near the hawthorn tree where he had seen her last.

Graystripe also rushed over from another side of camp at his sister’s shout, the three of them converging around a series of heather clumps that were rather distinct from the gorse bushes that surrounded camp. “Something heavy was dragged through here.” Peppermask lightly traced her paw along a shallow groove in the earth that disappeared into the heather. “I don’t know how recent it is, but I think we should follow it.”

Fireheart nodded. “It’s the best lead we’ve found so far.”

“You should take the lead.” Graystripe nudged his sister with one broad shoulder. “After all, you’re the one that found it.”

“Well, of course. Wouldn’t want you to lose the trail.” She pushed him away with her paw before standing and beginning to carefully walk alongside the tracks, into the heather. As Fireheart followed her, he found the heather bushes opened into a wide tunnel through the gorse. This, he realized, must be the real entrance to the camp. It was well disguised from both ends; he would have had trouble finding it were it not for the trail in the dirt leading through it.

He was worried they might lose the trail in the tall grass outside camp, but it began following a well-worn path that was clearly made by generations of Windclan before them. It felt strange, walking in the pawsteps of a Clan he’d never met, but he said nothing as they walked along the edge of the trail. 

Eventually they came to a meadow filled with small, pale red flowers. “Where are we?” Fireheart asked, glancing behind him. He could still see the gorse bushes over the tall grass, so they hadn’t gone very far. “The dirtplace, maybe?”

Peppermask shot him a look that was a mix of disgust and horror. “It’s the very opposite. This must be where Windclan bury their fallen.” She looked around the clearing, sadness filling her eyes. “It looks so similar to ours, except the mint would be flowering right now, not this sorrel.”

The ginger tom dipped his head and tail immediately in shame at her admonishment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She sighed and shook her head. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it.” The molly stepped delicately through the clearing as they followed the trail of crushed flowers. “This was definitely done recently. These leaves still haven’t grown back.”

“Maybe Nightstar did it? For Shadowclan to atone for their crimes.” Fireheart suggested as he sniffed at the leaves. Most of the scent had gone from them, meaning that it had been at least a quarter-moon since their destruction.

“Maybe.” She echoed him half-heartedly, her mind still evidently on following the trail. Then she stopped. “It ends here.”

“What? Like they disappeared?” Fireheart questioned as he came up beside her. There was a patch of disturbed flowers and leaves, but she was right; it stopped suddenly, as though they had suddenly grown wings and taken flight.

“Hardly.” With a paw, she swept the leaves aside with hardly any effort. His ears perked in surprise as the greenery tumbled away. “This dirt is loose, and fresh. It hasn’t been compacted by the storms from last moon. Someone was buried here recently.”

The two gray warriors bowed their heads respectfully, and Fireheart quickly copied them. “May their spirit find peace in Starclan.” Peppermask murmured softly.

“What now?” Graystripe asked. “I mean, we can’t just ask whoever was buried here what happened. Not unless we travel to the Moonstone.”

“Maybe not.” His sister admitted as she looked around. “But whoever buried them must have left clues behind. We should look around, see if we can catch a scent.”

The other two warriors nodded in silent agreement at her words, heading for different areas of the clearing. Fireheart headed for the trail they had taken from camp; perhaps, he reasoned, they had left the same way to help cover their tracks, but maybe they had left a clue the three had missed traveling here.

As he sniffed around, trying to catch a scent, Graystripe let out a howl of pain. Surprised, the ginger tom turned to see his friend had cut his nose on some sharp bramble thorns, a few drops of blood beginning to well up from it.

“Be careful! You nearly spooked the fur off of me.” Fireheart chided him, but nonetheless bounded over to make sure there wasn’t actually any danger. He drew the air over his tongue, but there was no scent of fox, badger, or Shadowclan; just Graystripe and the familiar tang of blood.

“And me.” Peppermask grumbled as she too came to make sure her brother was okay. “What were you thinking, sticking your nose in a bramble bush like that? Of course it’s going to scratch you!”

“I saw something!” Graystripe replied, pointing one paw into the bush while wiping his nose with the other. “I thought it might be a bird or a rabbit, and I was hungry…”

Fireheart peered into the brambles carefully, avoiding getting snagged like the gray tom had. To his surprise, Graystripe was right: on the other side of the bush, some light gray fur fluttered gently in the ever-present wind that swept over the moors.

“Peppermask! Look at that. Do you think a Windclanner left it behind?” He circled the bush to get a better view of it. The fur was a mix of tawny and gray, a mix of colors that he hadn’t seen before. He sniffed cautiously at it before backing away to allow the silver molly to do the same. “I can’t get a good scent off of it, though…”

She breathed in deeply, her nose almost buried into it. “It’s faint, but there’s definitely still some scent in it.” Her ears dipped after a moment. “It’s strange, though… it smells more like the Thunderpath than a cat.”

“Maybe they came here by the Thunderpath?” Fireheart proposed curiously as he sniffed it again. She was right; there was the faint smell of something burning laced into the fur that he had attributed to the flowers around them.

“Maybe.” She didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t press it any further as she sniffed around for a trail. “I think she went this way.” She flicked her tail in the direction that the sun was setting. “Is your nose recovered yet? Can we go?” She asked, looking snidely at her brother as he too circled the bush to meet them.