#mistlestar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they well-fed?” Mistlestar asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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