#moon 15

Nightleap understood her eldest son. He didn’t realize it, but she did.

She saw his struggle—everyone did—and how he never quite measured up. He wasn’t a bad warrior, not at all. He was perfectly fine. Average.

It weighed on him, returning from failed hunts with his head low, while his brother seemed to never falter. That was tough. She knew what it was like to have a sibling who was better than you. What was worse was that Otterpaw wasn’t cruel; he didn’t rub it in. If anything, he downplayed his success. But it was so obvious that it was insulting.

She didn’t pepper Ripplepaw with empty platitudes like the others, like Wolfstar. He didn’t need that. The truth was, he wasn’t ready for what he needed: to understand that he wasn’t special. He was average, typical, plain.

Nightleap felt bad for these thoughts—what kind of parent was she to think such things about her son? But honestly, it was less about him and more about her. She saw herself in him. Her only saving grace had been her speed, but everywhere else, she had fallen short.

Her hunting and fighting weren’t bad, but she knew she was lacking compared to her peers. It wasn't fair, but it made sense. Not every cat could be a shining star.

The sooner Ripplepaw accepted that, the better off he’d be, she reasoned.

As she left on an early morning patrol, she paused by the cleric's den. Lynxdawn was listening to Ripplepaw's chest. Nightleap lingered, smiling as she caught her son's eye. He blinked at her fondly.

Sitting up, Lynxdawn gave him a wide smile. “You're all clear!”

“Really?” Ripplepaw asked, leaping to his paws excitedly.

“Yup, you can return to regular duties.” She turned back to her herbal mixtures.

“How about you join me on a hunting patrol to celebrate?” Nightleap finally spoke.

Before her son could respond, Lynxdawn shot her a look. “He still has to report to Wolfstar for his punishment,” she said coolly.

Ripplepaw drooped a little, remembering his mistakes. “Oh yeah, I should probably go speak with her.”

He stepped around his mother to exit, mumbling under his breath. Nightleap turned but eyed the cleric one last time before leaving.

One little patrol wouldn’t hurt, she thought, shoulders hunched and hackles up.

It wasn’t worth the fight, though. She’d promised Snowspeckle she’d do better about communicating. The last thing she needed was someone running and snitching on her to her mate—she basically lived on thin ice nowadays.

She sighed and tried to shake the irritation off her coat. A solo hunt would help. Time alone always helped. Especially with her Snow out at the artisan’s knoll for the day.

Another sigh. This time, she stretched her legs slowly, taking deep breaths. It helped a little, enough to let her focus at least.

She headed northeast toward the abandoned nest. The grassy fields just below it were teeming with life and had managed to stay mostly mud-free during the rains.

The sun was beginning to peek out as she moved. Rolling in garlic to disguise her scent, she hoped the bath she’d have to take afterward was worth the hunting advantage. The first bird she missed by a feather, but she quickly made up for it by catching a plump hare. Hiding it away, she stalked through the grass.

She could see the silhouette of the abandoned nest up ahead, peeking over the tall grass. A strange scent caught her attention. Creeping slowly, she moved forward. Stepping out of the grass, she was surprised to see leaves and twigs littering the ground.

The leaves were bright and healthy—no reason for them to be on the ground, even at the base of a tree. Had something put them there? A bird? Squirrels?

The scent was stronger here, sharp and resinous. Pine. She glanced toward the DuskClan border, wondering if they had come further into SaltClan territory. But it didn’t smell quite like DuskClan cats or like pine trees. It was strange—so strange that her attention faltered as she stepped onto the leaves.

A click and then a zip were all she heard before searing pain locked around her back leg.

Nightleap wailed at the shock and tried to rush forward, but she was held back. Flailing onto her side, she clawed at the thing biting into her, realizing too late—it was a snare.

Panic choked her as she struggled. Every movement made it tighten, the wire digging in deeper. She could feel it scraping against bone. Her breath hitched, and she yowled again, her voice breaking into gasping sobs. It hurt too much to think, to plan. All she could do was hope someone heard her cries for help.

They did.

Lumbering footsteps to the east made her blood run cold. The pain dulled under a new, sharper fear. Twolegs.

Reignited by terror, she flailed again, desperate to escape.

There were two of them—young and scrawny compared to the ones she had seen before. One stood back, wide-eyed, while the other hesitantly stepped forward. Its pale paw reached for her.

She wailed, trying to lurch away, but the snare kept her rooted. The kneeling Twoleg flinched but reached again. Nightleap struck, sinking her teeth into its flesh. Blood flooded her mouth, hot and metallic.

The Twoleg ripped away from her fangs with a sharp hiss, stumbling back. The standing one cried out in alarm.

But instead of attacking her, the kneeling Twoleg grasped the wire of the snare. It twisted its paw, and there was a painful jerk before she was suddenly free.

The relief was immediate and overwhelming. She tried to stand, but her leg buckled beneath her. She felt the Twoleg’s paw on her ribs, pressing, clenching.

No. No, no, no—

She reeled back and snapped at it again, but this time, the Twoleg was faster. It fell back to avoid her teeth. That was all the chance she needed.

Ignoring the agony lancing through her, she bolted, running on three legs as fast as she could.

Ripplepaw was the first to notice her—out on his first patrol after his near-drowning, trotting ahead of Wolfstar and Snowspeckle to practice his tracking. The scent of blood flared in his nostrils, his fur bristling as he cried out and dashed forward, his mother and mentor close behind.

Nightleap was still bleeding when he barreled into her, knocking her off balance and sending her sprawling into the dirt with a hiss. Through her tears, she could see her son's wide-eyed face, but all she could hear was the high-pitched ringing in her ears as his mouth moved soundlessly.

Her mate and leader carried her back to camp, the adrenaline fading and leaving her barely able to hobble. Snowspeckle murmured gentle reassurances in her ear the whole way.

"Lynxdawn!" Wolfstar’s voice rang out as they entered camp, making Nightleap flinch.

The cleric had been curled up asleep with her daughters but scrambled to her paws, eyes wide. Coralkit darted out of the way while her sisters froze in place, nearly getting stepped on in the commotion.

"Rest her here. What happened?" Lynxdawn asked, swiftly clearing a nest for the black molly before beginning her exam.

Nightleap hissed as her wounded leg was lifted. "Fox snare."

"Stars, a fox snare," the cleric muttered, worry flashing across her face. "You have a deep laceration—I'm going to stop the bleeding first. Wolfstar, take my kits out to the camp. Ripplepaw, grab Mallowstripe—I’ll need extra paws."

Wolfstar and Ripplepaw shot off to follow her orders. Snowspeckle remained by Nightleap’s side, gently grooming her forehead as she shivered.

Lynxdawn worked quickly, wrapping a tourniquet of corded twine and cobwebs around the wound to staunch the bleeding. The laceration was too deep to stitch—the skin too thin near the joint. Frowning, she peeled away the bloodied cobwebs and rinsed the wound with warm calendula tea. Mallowstripe assisted, carefully washing Nightleap’s leg with clean water as Lynxdawn gathered herbs.

"Marigold, horsetail, thyme," she muttered under her breath. "Goldenrod and dock."

She portioned out the herbs into her mortar, mashing them down with the pestle into a thick poultice. Swearing under her breath, she realized her usual straining cloth was torn. Without pausing, she did her best to apply mostly the wet, pulpy bits of the mixture to the wound.

Nightleap hissed, her claws scraping against the nest.

"I know, I know," Lynxdawn murmured, pressing the poultice into place before carefully wrapping the leg with cobwebs and securing it with leather bandages. Snowspeckle’s worried gaze flicked between her mate and the cleric, her eyes misty.

"It’s okay," Lynxdawn assured her, voice still a little shaky from adrenaline. "She’ll be fine. It’ll hurt for a few days, but she’ll heal."

Mallowstripe quietly cleared away the discarded tools and bloodied rags. Lynxdawn nearly commented on how useful it was to have an assistant, but kept it to herself. Instead, she climbed up onto a ledge, reaching for a small jar tucked far in the back. She carefully poured out a few poppy seeds and hopped down.

"Here, eat these," she said, nudging them toward Nightleap.

Nightleap barely stirred, her third eyelids almost completely covering her pupils, but she obediently licked up the seeds.

Nodding, Lynxdawn exhaled, already making a mental note to re-hide her dwindling poppy supply. Turning to Snowspeckle, she gently nudged her toward the nest. "Stay with her. Keep her warm and quiet—the poppy will help her rest."

Snowspeckle sniffled, pressing herself closer to Nightleap with a soft sigh.

The sun was beginning to set as Wolfstar and Shadowdive set out for the final border patrol, their tails twined and hips brushing as they walked together.

They moved leisurely along the river, taking their time as they talked. SaltClan’s territory was small, but a full patrol along its borders still took most of the day.

As they neared the DuskClan border, their conversation quieted. They remained alert, wary of foxes or anything else lurking in the shadows. Wolfstar walked a few steps ahead, her tail brushing Shadowdive’s shoulder in silent reassurance.

Shadowdive followed closely, ears flicking at every sound in the forest.

Then Wolfstar halted, her tail lifting slightly. Upwind, she caught the scent—DuskClan warriors. And they were shouting.

She crept forward, head low, eyes locked ahead.

Shadowdive moved with her, flanking her side, scanning the tall grass for any sign of an ambush. The voices grew clearer.

“I don’t want to hear it anymore,” a deep voice growled.

Jaggedstar. Wolfstar’s hackles lifted.

“You’ll have to listen eventually. Warriors are asking questions, and I can’t keep deflecting,” Thornstrike hissed. His pawsteps thudded against the earth as he stalked after his leader.

“You’re the deputy—you’ll make do. Or did I choose wrong?” Jaggedstar sneered.

“Listen to yourself!” Thornstrike snapped. “You’re losing it! For StarClan’s sake, even the air around here feels colder!”

There was a sharp scrape—claws against bark. Wolfstar tensed, ready to lunge, but no battle cries followed.

“You’re imagining things, Thornstrike,” Jaggedstar grumbled. Her voice was moving away.

Thornstrike didn’t follow. “I’m not. Every moment of the day, I feel like I’m being watched. And I’m not the only one.”

Wolfstar flicked an ear back toward Shadowdive—a silent signal. He wanted to pull her away, but she strode forward anyway.

They were still several fox-lengths away from the DuskClan cats. If the two had been whispering, Wolfstar would’ve heard nothing. But with how they were shouting, the distance gave them a plausible excuse.

“DuskClan!” she called breezily, her tail lifting in polite greeting. Shadowdive slunk behind her, his expression unreadable.

Jaggedstar spun at the sound of her voice, trotting back to stand beside her deputy. “Wolfstar,” she said smoothly. “Strange to see you patrolling this late.”

Thornstrike stiffly nodded, though his face twisted into a scowl. Wolfstar kept her pleasant smile in place. “We’ve increased border checks since the fox last moon. Just making sure she hasn’t returned.”

Thornstrike’s tail flicked. “And why approach our patrol?” His tone was sharp—suspicious.

Jaggedstar turned to him with an unconcealed glare.

Shadowdive stepped forward, lowering his head in a quiet display of intimidation. “We heard shouting,” he said flatly. “Came to see what the fuss was about.”

Thornstrike’s fur bristled, and he squared up to the darker tom. “Nothing that concerns SaltClan.”

Jaggedstar shot him a withering look, curling her lip. “No need to be testy, Thornstrike.” She turned back to Wolfstar, voice smoothing out. “We merely had a difference of opinion about a training session.”

Wolfstar matched her mother’s cool, unreadable expression. “Glad to hear everything’s well.” She flicked her tail lightly against Shadowdive’s chest. “We’ll leave you to your patrol. Have a good evening. Let us know if you scent any foxes.”

She turned away without waiting for a response. Shadowdive moved with her, watching their backs.

Just as they stepped out of earshot, Thornstrike’s voice carried after them. “Might wanna look out for more than just foxes.”

Wolfstar felt Shadowdive tense, his fur bristling at the veiled threat. She didn’t pause.

It wasn’t until they neared camp that she finally chuckled, glancing at his sulking expression. “Let it go, darling. Trust me—Jaggedstar will yell at him enough for both of us.”

Shadowdive sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He stepped ahead just enough to bump his shoulder against hers, his usual gruffness softening.

Together, they slipped back into camp, their purrs following them all the way to their nest.

Newleaf’s rain hadn’t let up for several days now, soaking the clan and its members to the bone. This afternoon was no different as Wolfstar and Mallowstripe set out to collect firewood.

Mallowstripe walked daintily around the puddles, taking little leaps over the larger ones. By contrast, Wolfstar trudged through the wet and mud, a large sled dragging behind her, resigned to her waterlogged fate. She didn’t comment on his careful footing, even if it meant she had to slow down for him.

“Pine or birch would be best,” he chirped, trotting ahead of her, oddly excited. “But cedar burns well in the rain too.”

“We should find some near the Twoleg place,” she said, though not nearly as chipper as him. “Let’s stick to the eastern edges.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, turning to follow her lead.

“I want as few run-ins with DuskClan as possible,” she explained.

Mallowstripe fell quiet as they walked, still avoiding the puddles as they reached the edge of the grassy fields and approached the trees lining the Twoleg place. Just south of them lay the clan’s graveyard, set atop the cliffs overlooking the ocean. If they turned north, they’d run into the abandoned nest and DuskClan’s border.

“Plenty of birch,” he murmured as she set the sled aside. He pulled out the stone chopper Snowspeckle had crafted for him. “I’ll start on the far side.”

Wolfstar grunted, ducking under the trees as she took up a watchful stance, eyes on the treeline nearest to the Twoleg place.

The chopper was a heavy stone tool, essentially a rough rock with one sharpened edge. He used it for woodcutting or butchering thick meat and fish, but today it made gathering firewood much easier—allowing him to cut fresh branches instead of scavenging fallen sticks.

Balancing on one of the lower limbs, Mallowstripe made a partial cut with the chopper before shifting to another branch. Then, pressing down on the first, he splintered it the rest of the way, letting it fall to the ground. It was a little nerve-wracking—he greatly preferred sending someone else to do the task—but that wasn’t always an option.

“Look out!” he called instinctively as the first branch fell with a thud. Wolfstar was well out of the way, of course. She chuckled at him but said nothing.

Mallowstripe tried not to think about her while he worked, but her quiet behavior today made him worry. Unlike her mate, Wolfstar was prone to suffering in silence, making it hard to tell when she was struggling. But he had a good idea.

After felling three branches, Mallowstripe jumped down to the soggy ground, paws squishing unpleasantly. “Let me chop these up a little more, then we can go.”

“Can’t you do it at camp?” Wolfstar wasn’t whining, but she was close.

“Sorry, but it’ll be a lot easier to haul back if I do it now.” He touched his tail to her shoulder. She didn’t argue, which was good.

Wolfstar resumed her watch, eyes sharp as she cycled through her sightlines. Mallowstripe brought the chopper down on the thickest part of a branch, right where it began splitting into smaller limbs. It was a quick task, and he tossed the useless leaves aside—food for insects, nesting material for birds.

The pair worked in silence as they loaded the wood onto the sled. The rain finally let up, dwindling to a light drizzle. If she closed her eyes, Wolfstar could almost pretend she was standing near the base of the Rock Falls.

As she fastened the sled’s harness back to her chest, Mallowstripe hesitated. She noticed, of course, and gave him a small smile. He returned it, though shakily.

“Have I told you how happy I am in Saltclan?” he asked.

She chuckled, the sound like songbirds. “You don’t need to—I can tell.”

They stayed like that, quietly sitting in the misty air. Wolfstar didn’t move, even with the sled ready. She waited for him to speak.

“Maybe I should say it more,” he admitted, but his eyes were downcast. This wasn’t what he wanted to say.

More silence.

“I’ve noticed you and Shadowdive are getting along well,” she finally said, her gaze sharp, missing nothing.

“Yeah… yeah, we have.” He cleared his throat. “He’s been showing me the basics of fighting. I’ll still need a warrior escort for my patrols, but at least I won’t be defenseless.”

“He’s a good teacher,” she agreed.

“I’ve gotten used to his way of speaking… reminds me of DuskClan cats sometimes.” Mallowstripe chuckled, glancing at her, then away at the sled. “Funny, isn’t it? You and I were born there, but he’s more like them.”

Wolfstar hummed. “He seems to have gotten fonder of you as well.”

It was a tease, lighthearted, nothing more. He thought.

“Yeah… he likes when I ask him for help, I guess,” he said.

“He likes being useful,” Wolfstar yawned, unable to help it. The day had been long.

Mallowstripe wondered if he should just give up. He couldn’t seem to say anything of substance.

"I’m glad you’re both getting along," Wolfstar said after a moment. "Now that he and I are mates, I’ve been really encouraging him to be more open with others." She chuckled again. "He’s even trying to bond with Nightleap lately."

Mallowstripe tensed at the word mates, his wet fur ruffling. It didn’t escape her notice.

"What’s wrong?" she finally asked.

"I...I'm glad you both are mates." He said, finally giving up. He stood, signaling he was finished.

Wolfstar wasn't as ready to drop the topic, though. She stayed sitting. "You don't sound glad," she argued, though there was no heat behind it.

"I am. I am... it's just..." He trailed off, not sure what to say.

She misinterpreted it, giving him a gentle smile. "I think I get it. Half of the clan is mated, I'm sure it can feel odd. But you'll find your mate one day, try not to worry."

Mallowstripe couldn’t stop the way his ears pressed back, his whole body locking up at the words. His breath quickened, and his claws dug into the earth beneath him. "No. That's not it." His voice sounded small, unfamiliar.

Wolfstar faltered, standing now, but neither moved, even as the light faded. “Sorry, I just figured…”

The world was quiet, but Mallowstripe’s heart pounded in his ears.

“I... I want to be mates with you.” The words fell from his mouth, barely above a whisper. He turned his head away, too cowardly to meet her gaze.

“Oh.”

He flinched at her tone.

“You never said anything.” It wasn’t a question, but she was asking anyway.

“There never seemed to be a good time.” He forced himself to look at her. “You left for so long… then I joined, but I didn’t feel like I was enough. Then you and Shadowdive.”

It was a weak excuse, and he knew it.

They stood in the misty silence.

“I don’t expect anything,” he finally said. “I just... needed you to know. It felt wrong to keep it from you.”

Wolfstar nodded, unsure what to say. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I can have someone else go with you on patrols if you’d prefer. I won’t tell Shadowdive—not yet. I don’t want to ruin the progress you two have made.”

Mallowstripe bristled. “I don’t want either of you avoiding me, and I don’t want to lie to Shadowdive. We should tell him.”

That caught her off guard. “Why? Why risk your friendship?”

“Because I want to be honest with him. I should’ve been honest about my feelings from the start.”

Wolfstar studied him, something shifting in her gaze.

Her voice was softer when she asked, “Mallowstripe… did you mean you wanted to be mates with Shadowdive?”

His fur fluffed up. He tried to look away but couldn’t. “It’s... I like him, but it’s different from how I like you.”

Wolfstar’s expression softened, patient. "Different how?"

Mallowstripe opened his mouth, then shut it. He didn't know. No—he did know, but the words were too big, too frightening to speak. His claws kneaded at the earth. "I don’t know."

"Try," she encouraged. "What do you think when you see him?"

Mallowstripe squeezed his eyes shut. "That he’s rough, and terrifying, and mean sometimes, but… he’s kind too, in his own way. And he listens, even if he pretends not to. And he always notices when I’m upset, even if he doesn’t know what to do about it." He huffed a breath, shaking his head. "And he makes me laugh. He makes me feel… safe."

The words hung heavy in the air. Mallowstripe dared to peek up at Wolfstar, expecting to find her disappointed, or maybe even angry. But she just watched him, unreadable.

Then, she halted so suddenly that Mallowstripe nearly stumbled. Her tail twitched, an unreadable tension running through her frame.

"Wolfstar?" he asked, ears flattening.

She sucked in a slow breath. "I don’t know, Mallow." The words trembled slightly, more honest than any grand declaration.

The silence stretched between them. Wolfstar hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. And with every second that passed, Mallowstripe felt something inside him crack.

He took a shuddering breath, forcing a smile that wobbled at the edges. "I—I take it back. I was greedy. Selfish." His voice shook, but he pressed on, desperate to fix what he had broken. "I don’t want to ruin what we have, I won’t say anything again, I swear—"

His legs gave out beneath him.

"Please, forget I said anything!" The words came in a sob, raw and jagged, as he pressed his face against the damp grass.

Warmth enveloped him. Wolfstar curled around him, pressing her nose into his fur. "Mallow, breathe," she murmured.

He gasped, dragging in a shaky breath. "I ruined everything—"

"You didn’t." She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. "I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect this, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad."

Mallowstripe blinked rapidly. "But—"

Wolfstar shook her head. "I think you were right," she murmured. "We should tell Shadowdive."

Mallowstripe's breath hitched.

Wolfstar’s tail flicked against his side giving him a gentle smile. "No more hiding, Mallowstripe."

Cat Allegiances:

Wolfstar- 21 moons. Leader. Responsible. Compassionate. Natural intuition. Apprentice- Ripplepaw.

Lynxdawn- 16 moons. Lead Cleric. Thoughtful. Loving→Faithful. Good teacher.

Snowspeckle- 32 moons. Deputy. Artisan. Loving. Thoughtful. Good singer.

Nightleap- 36 moons. Warrior. Insecure. Sneaky. Incredible runner.

Mallowstripe- 22 moons. Camp keeper. Nervous. Careful. Strange dreamer.

Shadowdive- 20 moons. Warrior. Blood thirsty. Loyal. Good swimmer. Apprentice- Otterpaw.

Ripplepaw - 8 moons. Warrior apprentice. Troublesome. Fearless→ Adventurous. Fast runner. Mentor- Wolfstar. Conditions: Water in lungs. Resolved.

Otterpaw - 8 moons. Warrior apprentice. Attention seeker→Insecure. Bouncy. Good swimmer. Mentor- Shadowdive.

Dropletkit- 3 moons. Skittish. Shy. Interested in clan history.

Kelpkit- 3 moons. Charming. Quiet. Plays in mud.

Coralkit- 3 moons. Noisy. Bossy. Never sits still.

Sandkit- 3 moons. Impulsive. Noisy. Moss ball hunter.

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