Beetlefoot seemed to forget that he was supposed to be sullen about getting dragged along almost as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest of the group by the border of the settlement. He perked up, his regimented soldier’s stride relaxing more and more the closer they came to where the Vultures were residing. By the time they could see a small group lazing about together, he was almost walking like a normal cat.

A dark-striped ginger tom was the first to notice them, being the only one actually sitting up. He turned to a plain grey blob behind him and said something.

The blob shifted, and Nettlecloud’s head raised up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Her fur was as droopy as usual, but it reflected what little sunlight poked through the clouds and shined brighter than Mistface was used to seeing on his mother. Her tired eyes lit up and she slowly rose onto her haunches as the three toms reached the group.

“Oh, and you even brought Beetlefoot,” she croaked, purring. “Greyleaf, love, where have you been?”

“Busy, Mama.” Greyleaf greeted his mother with a gentle headbump. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you what’s been going on – I was asked to help out in Clast. I meant to send a messenger, but…”

“I’m just happy you’re alright,” Nettlecloud said, and drowsily smiled at him. “And you’re so close by! I could even make the walk, if your brother would let me.”

“Or if Rushroot would let you,” the ginger tom said. He looked at Mistface. “We’re glad to have her, by the way. She’s a treat. Minnowpounce already loves her.”

At the name, a dull brown-and-white molly with an incredibly round belly half-rolled their way, resting on her back. She nodded to the trio of newcomers and yawned.

“She’s planning names for my litter,” she said. “I told her we don’t know what they’ll look like yet, but…”

“It’s the closest I’ll get to grandchildren.” Nettlecloud looked back at her and spoke with a pointedly sweet and indulgent voice. “I know my darlings here won’t do it.”

“Mama-!“ Greyleaf and Mistface immediately started.

“I’m teasin’, my loves, only teasin’.” Nettlecloud trilled a soft laugh at their joint flusterment. “Maybe Beetlefoot will, one day.”

Mistface looked at Beetlefoot and immediately forgot his own mood to stifle a guffaw at how large Beetlefoot’s eyes were. His fur on his back stuck straight in the air and he was stiffly standing like he was trying to join it and fly into the sky.

“I don’t- I-“ Beetlefoot said, and spluttered a few more starts to a sentence before giving up and turning away in embarrassment. It was a very amusing look on him.

The ginger tom snorted and shook his head. “You’re something else, Nettlecloud.”

“An old lady like me loses all sense of social niceties after a while.” Nettlecloud chuckled and added to Beetlefoot, “I’m sorry, dear, I was just pokin’ fun at your expense.”

Beetlefoot’s response was a delayed clearing of the throat and a nod like he had just been told he had escaped death.

To save him from having to say anything, Mistface said, “Don’t wear out your welcome too soon. If you’re mockin’ everyone-“

“Stars above, no!” Nettlecloud blinked and playfully frowned at him. Out of the corner of Mistface’s eye, Greyleaf winced. “I’d never point a single cruel word at such lovely cats.”

Mistface rolled his eyes as he affectionately rasped a tongue over her ear. “Whatever you say, Mama.”

The conversation mellowed out a bit, and the longer they talked, the more the other cats stirred from their sleep and watched them. Occasionally, they would offer a comment or laugh at a joke, but otherwise it was mostly Nettlecloud, Mistface and Greyleaf. Beetlefoot, still looking a little embarrassed, gave a response now and then, but he seemed to be just fine sitting within the small circle and listening.

Eventually, Greyleaf cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard by now, there’s been a predator sighting or two around this area. They haven’t sent a patrol to look at it yet, but…”

Beetlefoot and Mistface’s eyes met in a silent understanding. The leaders had claimed that there were other animals in the valley to try and keep cats away from the Clast camp, and therefore away from Redheart. Adding to that, there was a patrol nearby, but they were assigned to linger out of sight yet close enough to the settlement that Beetlefoot could sneak off and give them reports, so that they could relay that message to the leaders.

“I’ll be fine, dear.” Nettlecloud lifted and lowered her paw in a gesture of reassurance. “You just worry about yourself and y’all in Clast. You’ve got a lot of work to do there!”

Greyleaf took a slow breath, his eyes reflecting something Mistface couldn’t name. “You have no idea, Mama. No idea.”

---

Laurelclaw was a little lost.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to others – he did, very much – but as he looked over the much shorter cats passing through camp, occasionally swiping at each other with a laugh, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him how he was supposed to make any friends without getting into a fight.

He had been sitting against the wall of one of the houses for half the morning, occasionally standing to take a step into the crowd and then shyly sitting back down when someone looked at him. He hadn’t even gotten any prey from the center of the clearing yet in case someone challenged him over food. Not that he was extremely hungry – Plage cats, who traveled back and forth from the sea to the Territory, were used to not eating more than one or two meals in a day, and walking besides.

Still, he thought, it would be nice to be a little smaller so he could walk through without grabbing attention. Cats were always staring at him because of his height. Perhaps if he-

“You there!”

Laurelclaw wanted to hide. He knew that challenging tone of voice.

Nervously, he turned his head to see a black-and-white molly looking up at him with her head cocked. Her eyes were slightly squinted, like she was appraising him.

“You’ve been here since yesterday, and you haven’t said a word,” she declared, as if revealing some massive secret.

Laurelclaw’s awkward laugh stumbled out of him and flopped miserably on the ground. “Right, uh… well, I’ve just been, you know, I…”

“Looking for a good fight?” The molly smirked at him. “Not many who could take you, I bet. Where you from? Plage?”

“Yes, but- see-“

“I’m Peregrinefang,” she said, marching right over his mumbling. “Best fighter in the Clast, or at least the best native fighter. Who are you?”

Not for the first time, he loathed his suffix. “Laurel…claw.”

“Ah!” Peregrinefang’s eyes lit up. “You’re worth scrapping with, then. You know, plenty of cats around here would be very impressed with-“

“Oh! Coming!” Laurelclaw leaped to his feet, grinning apologetically at the molly. “Sorry, friend I came with, must be looking for me, nice to meet you-“

He poured out verbal nonsense over his shoulder as he trotted away as fast as he could without actually running. Peregrinefang watched him go, visibly unimpressed.

Laurelclaw perhaps should have been looking where he was going, because right before he looked ahead of himself, he bumped into something small and heard it squawk in alarm. He halted in his tracks, even jumping back a bit, ready for another deluge of apologies, when he blinked in surprise.

He had knocked over a tiny fawn calico that he recognized.

“Excuse me,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t being careful. Are you okay?”

The apprentice shook her head and sat up. She looked a little miffed, but she smiled up at him. “It’s fine, I was, uh…”

She trailed off and tilted her head. She seemed to recognize him too.

“Sorry, but...” She squinted a little. “Are you Laurelclaw?”

Laurelclaw brightened up. “Yes! Hi! You’re Littlepaw, right? We met at the Coterie.”

Littlepaw actually seemed delighted that he remembered her. Her curly-furred tail waved back and forth. “I didn’t think I’d see you here!”

“Same to you!” Laurelclaw lowered his head quite a bit to touch noses with her in greeting. “I thought you were off training to be a seer in Hillock?”

“I quit!” Littlepaw beamed and puffed out her chest. “Well, I ran away, but I did technically quit. And now I’m here with a friend I met!”

“Oh!” Laurelclaw said, having no idea how to respond to this. He floundered in his mind for a heartbeat or two. “That’s… quite a change!”

“It is!” Littlepaw’s beam turned into a wide grin. “I mean, I’m not really any good at fighting, and I’m still learning how to hunt well, but-“

“Littlepaw, who are you talking to?”

Laurelclaw flinched like he was in trouble – he was always expecting to be – and looked up to see the ticked grey tabby who had won the fight yesterday approaching. She wasn’t exactly scowling, but there was a wariness in her eyes as she looked Laurelclaw up and down.

Littlepaw almost hopped in place to turn to face her. “Flyfang! This is Laurelclaw. I met him before I met you. He’s nice, don’t worry.”

Flyfang tilted her head a little, appraising Laurelclaw. Despite his size, he felt as though he was a tiny kitten under her stare. “Is that so?”

“Hello,” Laurelclaw said meekly.

“Flyfang found me when I ran from Hillock,” Littlepaw explained. “Actually, she was running too, so we decided to come here together.”

“Marish for me,” Flyfang said, and the more she looked at Laurelclaw, the more her posture relaxed. “You’ve heard about them.”

“I know it’s hard to leave,” Laurelclaw affirmed. “But not much else.”

“They’re a secretive bunch.” Flyfang rolled her eyes. “They don’t want whatever stupid things they think are worth hiding getting out, so you’re not allowed to leave. But I have, and now I’m here.”

“Well…” Laurelclaw fumbled for something appropriate to say again. “That sounds like it was brave of you.”

Flyfang’s smile was oddly subdued. “One could say that.” She huffed quietly and gave Laurelclaw a friendly look. “You came in yesterday with Greyleaf’s brother, right? I caught your group splitting up. What’s a blind cat doing here?”

Laurelclaw’s brain stuttered. What was he supposed to say about that that wasn’t technically a lie?

“Flyfang!” Littlepaw jokingly swatted her friend with her tail. “Blind cats can do what they want.”

“I never said they couldn’t,” Flyfang said, half-laughing and batting the tail away. “I was just curious why one would come to Clast, especially now.”

Right, Laurelclaw suddenly remembered, we’re not supposed to know about the rumors. “What, uh, what’s wrong with now?”

“You haven’t heard?” Flyfang gave him an incredulous look. “I thought everyone knew. Redheart’s been talking about leaving the Territory.”

Laurelclaw did his best to look surprised. “Really? Why?”

“Something about ‘being true warriors’ or whatever.” Flyfang dismissively waved a paw. “She’s waiting for more cats to arrive before she has a meeting about it, I guess. Frankly, I don’t know what to make of it until she gives more details, but plenty of newcomers are showing up to check it out. The Clast cats are getting annoyed, if you can believe it.”

“They don’t like that not everyone is here to fight,” Littlepaw half-whispered to Laurelclaw, in a stage voice. “So they’re not too fond of me either.”

“Huh.” Laurelclaw pulled his chin a little towards his chest, thinking. “Strange.”

“They like you just fine,” Flyfang said patiently to Littlepaw. She looked back at Laurelclaw again. “So what are you here for, if not for that?”

“Just-“ Laurelclaw rolled a shoulder as casually as he could. “Just looking for a change of scenery. Maybe, um, maybe not the best place for me to come, though. I’m not much one for fighting.”

“Then why are you a -claw?” Flyfang’s head tilted again. Before Laurelclaw had to answer, she shook her head. “No matter, don’t worry. You’ll get along fine with the newcomers. They’re not all fighters either.”

“Well, that’s good.” Laurelclaw sighed in relief. “I was worried everyone would challenge me. I haven’t really even gone over to get prey in case they did-“

Right on cue, his stomach made a low, threatening growl. He winced a little, but Flyfang simply chuckled and walk close enough to nudge him with a paw.

“Come on, then,” she said. “We were about to eat too. We’ll protect you from the crowd.”

“Much appreciated.” Laurelclaw knew he didn’t really need help, but he was very grateful for it. Flyfang took the lead and started for the prey-pile.

“Oh, Laurelclaw!” Littlepaw took up position beside him as they walked, though she had to trot pretty quickly to keep up with his steps. “You should see some of the cats we’ve met here. There was this one…”

It was morning, and Mistface was leaving for the Vultures. He had tried to get Greyleaf to come with him to see Nettlecloud again, but Greyleaf was, as usual, busy – this time consulting with Redheart – so Mistface was already in a bit of a sour mood. Now, just as he took his first step out of the settlement, Laurelclaw had caught him and requested that he and the apprentice Littlepaw could go to see the Vultures too.

What was really annoying was that Mistface had managed to get himself looking forward to the quiet solo walk, only to have to shift again when Laurelclaw had explained the promise he had made (without Mistface's permission, mind). But, as he reflected on the submissive anxiety that Laurelclaw was exhibiting – kneading the ground, head lowered almost below Mistface’s height, tail curled against his side – he couldn’t help a bit of amusement as well.

“You’ll be in charge of her,” he said at last. “I ain’t botherin’ to converse with anyone but Mama today.”

Laurelclaw sagged with an exaggerated relief. “Thank you. I didn’t want to go back on my promise, is all, and, well-“

“Just go get her,” Mistface said, as patiently as he could. “I’ll be here.”

Laurelclaw relaxed even further and padded off to fetch the apprentice. When he returned with her, Littlepaw was bouncing with every step, fur fluffed out in excitement. She poured out her thanks to Mistface for letting her accompany them, so much so that Mistface had to gently interrupt her so they could actually get going.

The walk was better than he expected, at least; it was a good thing Littlepaw’s voice was pleasant to the ear, because otherwise her constant talking would have grated on Mistface's nerves. Laurelclaw took to his concession and kept up the conversation with her (and it was quite funny, when Mistface looked back, to see the giant of a white cat almost having to hunch as he spoke to the runt beside him). The two traded stories back and forth about their families, with Laurelclaw eventually taking up most of the talk to explain the Plage family’s lifestyle. Mistface was surprised to find himself listening in as he led the party.

“…and it is nice to see so many places,” Laurelclaw was saying, “but the constant walking can be a little tiring. But I wouldn’t want to miss swimming in the ocean or seeing the view from the Lighthouse.”

“How does no one drown swimming?” Littlepaw asked. “I’ve heard the water’s so powerful that it could knock a bear down. There’s… ‘waves’, I think they’re called?”

“The motion of the water can be a little strong, yeah,” Laurelclaw agreed. “If you don’t know what you’re doing, you could get carried out to sea. But I haven’t heard of anyone in recent memory drowning.” Unusually, there was pride in his voice. “We play in the tidepools the moment we’re able to walk, and we practice in the streams leading into the ocean until we become apprentices. It’s in our blood to swim.”

Littlepaw’s reaction was one of awe that Mistface barely registered. He caught sight of the Vultures all sitting together and eating, going by how they were seated. He couldn’t pick out his mother from this far away, so he said, “There they are” and sped up to a trot. Laurelclaw and Littlepaw hurried after him, conversation coming to a stop.

A dark brown molly was the first to notice them. Her mouth covered in rabbit fur, she waved with her tail and nudged a cat sitting beside her that she was blocking from view. A familiar grey head poked out from behind the molly and Mistface smiled as his mother’s dull eyes lit up. He smiled less as he watched her struggle to get to her feet and limp stiffly to greet him.

“Look at my little boy, makin’ friends,” she croaked, and even her voice sounded weak. “Laurelclaw, dear, it’s good to see you.”

Laurelclaw bent to touch noses with her as he approached. “Hello again, ma’am! How are you?”

“Never better,” Nettlecloud said, right as she visibly restrained a cough.

“Mama, this is Littlepaw,” Mistface said quickly, stepping out of the way to show the apprentice. “She came with us to learn from the Vultures for the day. Littlepaw, my mother, Nettlecloud.”

Littlepaw dipped her head respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello to you, little one.” Nettlecloud hobbled forward to sniff her. “And I do mean ‘little’. Is Laurelclaw your mentor?”

“Oh- no, I’m just-“

“It’s a long story,” Mistface said, shifting his tone – indiscernible to everyone else, but giving just enough of a hint for his mother to register and pull back.

“Well, no matter.” Nettlecloud gestured with her tail, sitting down where she was. “Come, come, we were finishin’ breakfast. Vulturetail, is there anythin’ else for them to eat?”

“I’m afraid we got the last of it,” the dark brown molly said, with the same clipped accent that Beetlefoot had. “But we’re always happy to have guests.”

“And we ain’t hungry anyway.” Mistface side-eyed Laurelclaw and Littlepaw, who got the message and hurriedly nodded their assent.

The starkly-striped ginger tom from their first visit swallowed his meal and stood up straight. “Here to 'learn for the day', eh? Not often that apprentices are interested in history.”

“Oh, I love all stories.” Littlepaw trotted a few steps forward so that she was talking to him directly. “History, fables, tales about the aspects, all of them. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear from the Vultures themselves!”

“Well, whatever you want to know, we’ve got someone here who can tell you about it,” the ginger tom said, looking pleased to have an eager audience (of just one, but still). “We’ve all learned about different parts of the Territory – probably more than the natives know!”

Littlepaw was, as a good listener should be, already enthralled. “How far back does it all go?”

Laurelclaw maneuvered past Mistface to sit with Littlepaw, while Mistface sat beside his mother.

“Before even the Union,” Vulturetail said. “Firestripe, you know about that best, don’t you?”

“It’s what I specialized in before I even joined the Vultures,” the ginger tom affirmed.

Mistface tilted his head. “We know about the Clans before ours, do we?”

“Of course!” Firestripe’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “Especially in the east. You wouldn’t believe how much the Brae cling on to the old stories.”

“I can believe it,” Vulturetail said dryly. “I was from there, you know. Half of the things they say aren’t true.”

Littlepaw’s tail bounced from side to side. “What were they? How many?”

“Five,” Firestripe said, then paused, saying under his breath, “Hang on, Mire, Cobble, Slope, Fell, Bluff-“ His voice raised again. “Yes, five. Some stories mix in the loners from the west into more, since they grouped up for a while. The amount of people I’ve heard say there were seven or eight Clans, I swear - it confuses everyone.”

“BluffClan’s members ended up becoming the Plage, right?” Laurelclaw said suddenly. “I remember being told we were originally the outsider’s Clan since we lived so far away from everyone.”

“You were also the ones to suggest the Union in the first place,” Vulturetail said. “Which didn’t go through until rogues got aggressive and attacked the four in the valley.”

“The Clans had to team up properly and fight as a single unit before the leaders agreed to formally blend together,” Firestripe added. “Not that it was too hard, since by that point everyone was already friendly with each other.”

The grey-brown-and-white molly, Minnowpounce, had been listening in silently as she ate, but now she lifted her head and spoke. “You missed the reason for that.”

“Oh, right.” Firestripe nodded and said to Littlepaw, “The Clans were fighting initially when they were created, but after a while StarClan came to exist with the power of belief and made their lives so much easier that it was preposterous to fight for land and prey.”

“Leaders didn’t even get nine lives until then,” Minnowpounce added.

Littlepaw’s eyes were sparkling and she leaned forward a little. “Is that when the Runagate first showed up?”

Firestripe faltered for a moment. “Well…”

Mistface’s eyes flickered skyward. He’d heard plenty of tales about it in his kithood – the devil that tried to tempt warriors away from the light and constantly tried to destroy the aspects and StarClan. The Runagate was a boogeyman at best, but for some reason cats got nervous at talk of the evil spirit.

“Does anyone know when it first arrived?” Littlepaw said, seemingly unaware of the sudden awkwardness. “I heard a story of it recently, and I was just curious. I mean, would it have reason to appear until then, if it's the enemy to StarClan?”

Nettlecloud purred a clunky, raspy purr. “That thing ain’t their territory of knowledge, dear. You’d want the Margays for that.”

The Margays, Mistface remembered, had been the ones to put on the story-show that Littlepaw must have been referring to. They had done a good job at making the Runagate sinister, as he recalled, but he hadn’t exactly been quaking down to his whiskers after that.

“Oh.” Littlepaw leaned back again. “Sorry, I thought you might know.”

“If I did, I’d tell you,” Firestripe said apologetically. “I just focus on history of the living, is all.”

“The next time the Margays come around, we can ask them,” Laurelclaw said to Littlepaw. “Or- well, you can ask- you know what I mean.”

Littlepaw nodded and turned back to Firestripe. “So how long ago was the Union? And how long did it take to get the Union started after StarClan came to be?”

Mistface tuned out as Firestripe got more comfortable and explained. He looked at his mother, noting that her fur seemed a little thinner than usual, and despite the warmth in them, her eyes were indeed dull - duller than they had looked from a distance.

“How are you feelin’?” he murmured in her ear.

Nettlecloud smiled sweetly and leaned against him. “Wonderful, now that you’re here. I hope Greyleaf comes again soon. Is he busy again?”

“Unfortunately.” Mistface sighed and returned the lean. “You look like restin’ hasn’t done you much good.”

Nettlecloud was uncharacteristically silent. He looked at her, unable to gauge her thoughts by her simplistically content expression.

“Mama,” he said. “Please don’t lie to me. How are you feelin’?”

Slowly, Nettlecloud’s eyes closed and her smile became a little more fixed. “I don’t know if there’s much time for me left, love.”

Mistface's front legs wobbled.

“If you can have Greyleaf visit again, at least once…” Nettlecloud turned her head to face her son. Her ears flattened just a little. “I miss him dearly, you know. And I want to talk to him before it’s too late. I know I don’t have it in me to make that walk with you.”

Mistface struggled to take a deep breath. “…I’m glad you ain’t tryin’ to strain yourself, at least.”

Nettlecloud hummed a reply, and it seemed like it took a lot out of her just to make that noise. With no one’s attention on her except Mistface’s, she looked more tired than he had ever seen her.

She spoke quietly. “I’m not afraid to die, don’t you worry. But Greyleaf never spoke to StarClan…” She let out a slow sigh. “If I don’t get to talk to him then, I need to now.”

Mistface’s eyes lowered and he nodded. Grief clawed at every muscle, almost pulling him to the ground. “He’ll come before it’s too late, I promise. If I have to drag him here, kickin’ and screamin’, I will.”