Branchsnarl and Airswift argue over nesting space in the warrior's den. Cloudthunder is frustrated when she has to break them up. Airswift scoffs and storms off.
Morningspot teaches Owlpaw battle moves. Owlpaw focuses intensely on this, excelling in the lesson. Morningspot praises her during sparring. The excess effort releases enough of Owlpaw's stress for her to no longer feel helpless. Owlpaw is no longer Afflicted.
Redstar takes Cottonpaw and Deerpaw out training, and brings Barleywave with them. Redstar teaches the apprentices the new procedure of how to handle Nature's Mockeries.
Things had moved quickly while Redstar was sick with whitecough. It had only been two moons since the Gardener attack, but already ForestClan was shifting in a new direction. Redstar was somewhat grateful that she managed to iron out new lockdown and out-of-camp procedures before she became too sick to think straight. Now, with a clearer head, she could really observe the results.
The slick, green Twoleg linen that Lucifer had gifted them was waterproof - to the Clan's excitement. There was a bit of bickering about where it could best be used, before settling on using it to shield the cooking fire and drying racks, to keep the area free of snow in the coming leaf-bare.
Barleywave led the charge in helping with wall repairs over the past two moons - they only had to fully replace one full tree trunk in the end. Other pieces of the wall were being repaired by cutting away broken sections, and flattening out logs to stack on top of each other; securing them with twine and pine sap. It was an all-day affair to drag and erect a suitable replacement for the completely obliterated section. She remembered hovering around anxiously as it was being dragged with rope, group effort, and careful guidance. She would've assisted, if it weren't for literally everyone telling her to go away before she spread whitecough to them. But still - they succeeded, and the wall was replaced, even if a few sections were uneven.
Cottonpaw's idea for a bunker closer to the ground was well received - and it was decided to be made closer to the medicine den. It would need to be built in newleaf, since the snow would get in the way of hollowing out the space. Still - Redstar's heart warmed when she saw a pile of design concepts etched in birch bark laying next to Cottonpaw's bedding.
Torch bearings were erected near the gate doors. Repairing the broken pulley for the gate took a few weeks - until then, cats mostly weaved through the gap made by the loose door. She was grateful that Branchsnarl, Olive and Perchwatcher had managed to find an oak log suited to replacing the pulley; with enough carving and wearing down. It was a good beginner lesson for Blackpaw and Shadepaw in camp-keeping. A shame Shadepaw caught yellowcough after all that - he seemed enthused.
So much more had changed that caused Redstar's head to spin. She learned that Olive was learning some proper sparring techniques with Barleywave - pushed by the new rule of needing to learn combat with fire. Owlpaw was still distant, but Redstar learned that Owlpaw taught herself how to craft frames with twine and sticks as meditation, and Daffodilpaw started putting them together. The sisters created in silence with no expectations - and now, a cube, a pyramid and a ball-like toy were strewn about the entrance of the nursery, with Iciclepool and Hopechase's kits batting at them. Cats were going over how to deal with Woodcrawlers and Fake Cats if they were encountered in the woods. The only true roadblock was the red, fleshlike Woodcrawler that Shiverstep spoke of - and that Brackenfreckle confirmed the existence of. The only method of defense they knew was backing away from it slowly - but even then, the two mollies weren't sure of anything beyond that. Fire would be their weapon against it until they knew more.
Redstar decided today to teach the procedure against Nature's Mockery.
She gathered Cottonpaw, and Deerpaw, and had Barleywave join. After all, he was the one who found one growing in a small clearing devoid of shrubs or wilted overgrowth. They needed to handle it soon, before the first snowfall came and buried half of it.
"Cottonpaw, watch where you're turning here. Shrub branches," Barleywave meowed.
"Yeah, I know, I'm careful," Cottonpaw replied. Redstar suppressed a scowl. She twitched her ear.
"You're carrying our flame. He's right to warn you," she said.
"Well yeah, I know, but I think you guys underestimate how sturdy these containers are! What did Lucifer call them, jars?" Cottonpaw asked as she glanced down at the transparent, Twoleg container that was strapped to a leather harness at her side. In the container was a pile of hot cinders, cushioned by a thin mouse pelt at the bottom. A golden lid with many small holes allowed strands of smoke to escape. Her hazel eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "Perchwatcher's brilliant! She came up with the idea to use these to - "
"It doesn't matter, Cottonpaw, those things still can break! Remember the one mom dropped?" Deerpaw interjected, her tail flicking. "The pierces were sharp! We have to be careful anyway."
Cottonpaw's fur bristled as she carefully moved around the shrubs. "I know that! I'm just saying that - "
"Hey." Redstar interjected firmly. The two littermates fell silent. Redstar's ear swiveled, keeping her voice leveled. "You are in the woods. Our opponents are ambush predators. Be alert and aware."
Barleywave, who was leading the front, flicked his tail once in agreement. "It's worth keeping an ear out."
Cottonpaw and Deerpaw were silent for the remainder of the patrol.
Finally, after a few minutes, Barleywave stopped before the start of a clearing, sloped down in a path of tree roots and scattered stones. He beckoned Redstar with his tail quietly. The leader padded beside him and scanned the scene before her. The ground was cold and dry with wilted nettles and blackened leaves, seasonal weeds and plants had wilted and died out in the leafbare chill. In the shadows of the spruce trees, Redstar spotted it. It could've been mistaken for the burned remains of a Twoleg fire from afar - laying in a triangular shape. But ForestClan knew better.
Cottonpaw and Deerpaw slowly crept beside the two warriors, spotting the Nature's Mockery nestled near a set of trees below. Deerpaw cautiously raised her nose and tasted the air.
"The wind is blowing the opposite direction," she noted.
Redstar nodded. "Yes. Otherwise, you likely would smell something by now, though faint." Redstar cautiously took a few pawsteps forward. "We should be safe - stay two foxlengths away from it."
Cottonpaw and Deerpaw obeyed as they shuffled their way down, careful not to drag any nettles or stones with them. Barleywave staggered forward more confidently, removing a long, makeshift torch from the harness he strapped on his back.
"Barley," Redstar hissed in warning.
"This one's already hatched, Redstar," he pointed out.
"Yes, I know that, but we're teaching a procedure. At least treat it like one."
Barleywave mumbled something, his ears flattening. He sat down opposite of Redstar, as Cottonpaw and Deerpaw sat side by side, staring at the Nature's Mockery apprehensively. Cottonpaw twitched and started withdrawing the glass jar from her pouch with her mouth.
"So. Brief refresher - Cottonpaw, give us a description of the Nature's Mockery," Redstar asked. Cottonpaw let out a grunt as she pulled out the jar.
"A' a'ure's 'ockery ish - ack, 'old on," Cottonpaw slowly placed the jar on the ground, then licked her teeth and let out a quick yawn. "Sorry! Nature's Mockery are plants created by Deep Root entities. They tend to just appear overnight, so we're not sure how they make them. They look like that," she said as she pointed towards it. Her attempt at levity brought a smirk to Barleywave, but Deerpaw and Redstar seemed unamused. Cottonpaw cleared her throat awkwardly. "Er…but they can be brown or more reddish too."
"Good," Redstar nodded. "Deerpaw, tell me what it does."
Deerpaw straightened. "If you touch one, you're likely to experience horrible symptoms. The most common are hallucinations and paralysis. Stay in contact too long and your cuts stop healing and bones can fracture."
"And she's right," Barleywave interjected. "But it's the, uh…polite way of putting it. You're almost of warrior age now, it's fine to be blunt about it." Barleywave winced as he continued. "The, uh…official symptoms for prolonged contact are body disfigurement and flesh decay."
Cottonpaw and Deerpaw both bristled. Deerpaw recovered, her fur flattening quickly. Cottonpaw a little less so - her hazel eyes intently focused on the splitting effigy before them.
"You've been advised that red or brown Mockeries are to be avoided. Correct?" Redstar asked. Both apprentices nodded.
"Then today, I'm showing you how to destroy one, per our new procedure."
Cottonpaw raised a paw, then spoke without waiting for an answer. "Was Airswift shown this before he graduated?"
Redstar frowned at her apprentice. Cottonpaw blinked, somewhat regretful, but still kept her gaze. Redstar knew that Cottonpaw and Deerpaw weren't pleased that their brother became a warrior before them, but she had good reasons for it. Namely, Airswift was incredible at taking directions and listening to older warriors. He was volunteering to join patrols of his own accord, and performed apprentice tasks like cleaning out bedding and kit-care without complaint. He had shown considerable maturity during his apprenticehood - and she had no reason to doubt that Airswift would learn this procedure alongside the younger warriors tomorrow.
"I plan to have him join Branchsnarl and Perchwatcher tomorrow for an outing. They will also need to learn this. It's a new procedure entirely."
Cottonpaw's ear flicked. She placed her paw back down and stared at the jar before her. "Okay. So, how do we start?"
"Step one: big stick," Barleywave piped up, picking the stick back up. "Step two, light stick on fire. Step three, set mousedunged plant on fire."
Redstar glared at Barleywave with exasperation. "No, not quite."
"I mean, that is the long and short of it," the tom insisted.
"Barley, you were at the meeting."
"I know! I know, I'm teasing," Barleywave said defensively. Redstar rolled her eyes, deciding she'd lead the lesson. She approached him, and Barleywave decided to surrender the floor to her and gave her the stick. Redstar turned towards the Nature's Mockery.
For a moment, she observed it intensely. Its form told a story of tangling vines reaching and circling towards the sky, until their own weight caused them to bend and fall into one another. Stems would split and reach towards a perch - another tree, their own bodies, whatever it took - and thick, flesh-like membranes would fill the gaps left behind by the engulfing roots. A horrible mimicry of a protective shield - an egg, a womb, a den.
There was a final feeling of anger and determination that filled her chest. Then, she began.
"First - determine the life stage of the Mockery. This is important." Redstar turned to glance at her apprentice as she said this. "Do not skip this stage. Red or brown Mockeries are fresh, and likely to inflict more harmful symptoms. They are more likely to have roots that extend further out from their base - meaning that you can step on one without realizing it. Watch your step and ensure you have a clear, stable path to both approach and leave as fast as possible."
Deerpaw and Cottonpaw glanced around at their feet, then the Nature's Mockery. Deerpaw's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the plant's exterior.
"This one's black. Is it dead?"
"Correct. This is a dead or dying Mockery. It is the safest variant, but you can still be afflicted by mild symptoms if you touch it."
Cottonpaw flicked her ear and got to her feet. "Okay. Which one is more dangerous - a red or brown one?"
Barleywave shrugged and responded. "We don't make it a habit to test that, so we don't know. We assume the red one is more dangerous, since it's still growing - but both are hazardous."
"Regardless," Redstar interjected, "Stay alert at all times. For the second step of the procedure - carefully light the torch with the cinders brought. Do not do this alone. For the sake of demonstration, I'll be burning this Mockery today - we'll practice technique on a dummy near camp."
Cottonpaw seemed to brighten with recognition, her tail flicking "Oh yeah! Perchwatcher was working on that," she said.
Deerpaw rolled her eyes. "You were also distracting her a lot." Deerpaw immediately regretted it as Redstar whipped her gaze on her. Barleywave waved his tail in front of Redstar, prompting peace. He gestured his head to Cottonpaw. The apprentice just made a face and shrugged, unbothered. The calico suppressed a sigh.
"Open the jar, please."
Cottonpaw held it down with her paws and gnawed it slightly to force the lid to turn. When it loosened, she batted at it with one of her paws until it came off. She held it out and watched Redstar expectantly.
"Hold it in place," Redstar ordered. Cottonpaw obeyed, and Redstar tilted the torch into the cinders. After a few moments, smoke emitted from the torch, rising upward.
"Now tilt the jar slightly, so I can remove the torch without extinguishing the flame." Cottonpaw obeyed, and Redstar grasped the torch tightly in her jaws before removing it slowly. The moment the torch came into contact with the air, the resin-covered birch bark was set ablaze brightly, causing the two apprentices to recoil in surprise. Barleywave let out a mrrow of amusement.
"You've seen how birch bark burns before. It doesn't make cinders, but it burns bright and fast."
"The pine resin maintains the flame and burns the torch for a while - but not too long. Enough to create cinders to burn the Mockery with," Redstar added. She turned solemnly to the Mockery. "The final steps - approach the Mockery slowly. Do not rush. If the flame goes out - so be it. Your life is more valuable than doing this task quickly. Watch me carefully."
Redstar slowly scanned her feet, taking careful steps forward. She scrutinized the ground for any stray deep roots and foreign things. She could hear Barleywave lightly continuing the lesson - pointing out how the leader looked carefully around her every time, and made sure each of her steps was safe and calculated. Finally, when Redstar came within reach, she held her breath as the Nature's Mockery imposed itself upon her. Like it dared her to take another step.
Redstar paused as she stared at the interior of the Mockery - rotting and collapsing like a destroyed nest. Bits of debris and flesh-like webbing still clung onto the branches.
For a moment, she thought she saw curled branches within its heart, like the corpse of a dead insect. Apprehension surged through her; her body warning her that she was poking a sleeping bear.
She pushed it aside. The Mockery was dead. There was nothing inside.
Redstar slowly extended the torch within the plant's cavity. The flames licked at the black fibres above it, until another flame was born, consuming the webbing like clouds swallow sunlight. Redstar continued to bring the torch to other flammable locations, and eventually, whisps of fire slowly ate away at every strand and tendril. Redstar then slowly withdrew the torch, turned around, and retraced her steps. The apprentice's gazes were focused intensely on the spectacle that the torch had given - there were no flames, or heat. It was like swarms of insects were devouring every inch of the Mockery at lightning speed, leaving red imprints before dissolving into ash.
Redstar dug a small hole in the cold, wet ground, and stabbed the lit torch into it, extinguishing the cinders. "I can do this because it's leafbare, and the ground is wet and frozen. Do not do this in any other season, or you'll risk causing a forest fire. Normally, we'd bring water - to both extinguish the torch, and douse the Mockery once it's finished burning."
And for a while, that was it. The four cats grimly stared as the Nature's Mockery burned away slowly, until one of its structural branches snapped and collapsed. The structure fell apart like firewood, until all that was left was soot-colored debris.
"The point isn't to make every bit of it dead - just destroy its structure. It's…similar to destroying a tree. It won't grow leaves or spit sap if it's a mere stump."
From the look in the apprentices' eyes, Redstar knew they absorbed the lesson.
As the patrol packed up and headed back towards camp, Deerpaw and Barleywave treaded further ahead, with Redstar and Cottonpaw trailing behind.
Cottonpaw spoke. "Hey, Redstar?"
Redstar's ear twitched in response.
"There's something that's been on my mind for a while. I've put it aside for the most part, but…I guess it came back to me today."
Redstar glanced at her apprentice. Cottonpaw stared straight ahead, wordlessly putting one foot in front of the other. The way Cottonpaw began her sentence seemed heavy, which concerned Redstar.
"What is it?"
"I guess seeing the dead Mockery just…had me remembering something is all." Cottonpaw swallowed. "...Fake Cats. I've never seen one. The cats are…dead. Right?"
Redstar flinched, stopping briefly in her tracks before restarting. "Sorry. Yes, they are. We know this with certainty."
"How? If you don't mind me asking." Cottonpaw sounded uncharacteristically timid.
Redstar let out a purr of reassurance. Fake Cats were unnerving as a concept, nevermind a real, existing threat. It was a common fear that Fake Cats were not truly dead - one she was happy to dispel. "First, we know through our connection with StarClan. Clerics would reach out to StarClan to find if a lost cat was among them - and if they were, their Fake would be found after a few days. I've seen it happen myself when I was younger. Second, in the rare occasions that we'd fight and defeat them - Fake Cats were always husks, inhabited by Deep Roots. No eyes, no organs, just puppets." Redstar glanced at Cottonpaw. "Fake Cats are not alive. That much I can promise."
Cottonpaw said nothing.
"...Is there something else bothering you?"
"...What about Fake Twolegs?"
Redstar shook her head. "We don't know enough about them to say. They're far more dangerous than Fake Cats are. We don't go near them." Redstar paused. "...I know you and Deerpaw encountered one last greenleaf."
"Yeah…I guess I just…" Cottonpaw stared at the floor before taking a deep breath. "I dunno. It feels weird to say, but…I hope they're dead too."
"I imagine they would be. Woodcrawlers hunt and eat. It'd be like if we kept mice alive in camp for whatever reason - tedious and disruptive."
This drew a short laugh out of Cottonpaw. "Aw, are we sure we don't want mice eating our jerky?"
"No, we do not," Redstar meowed. A smirk broke on her face, despite herself. But after some time, discomfort nestled in Redstar's chest. A thought occurred to her, and it refused to stay bottled. Reluctantly, she meowed, "Is there a reason why you doubt their deaths?"
Cottonpaw fell silent, her hazel eyes distant. She didn't stop moving, letting the silence hang uncomfortably with every step they took. For a moment, Redstar thought that Cottonpaw was going to pretend she didn't hear her. Unfortunately for Redstar, Cottonpaw had an answer.
"...It chased us, you know. The Fake Twoleg."
Redstar bristled. "You never said it chased you."
"I know. I'm sorry about that." Cottonpaw sounded genuinely remorseful, forcing Redstar to flatten her fur. "At the time, I told myself I didn't want to be in even more trouble than I already was. But…I think I was just scared to acknowledge it. I think Deerpaw was too." Cottonpaw looked up at Deerpaw and Barleywave up ahead, watching them converse like a pair of songbirds. "I didn't want to make anyone overthink things. Especially if we're sure that we're okay, you know?"
There was a long pause. The leafbare breeze picked up. The sun barely gasped through the surface of the grey sky.
"It's just...the Fake Twoleg had eyes, still. That's why I was worried."
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Barleywave decides to take out Airpaw for hunting, since Iciclepool has been confined to the nursery. Barleywave asks if Airpaw wants a friendly competition, and try to bring back the most prey items back to camp. Barleywave is happy to see a healthy amount of boasting from the young tom, given his usual quietness.
Cottonpaw and Perchwatcher do their best to include Owlpaw. Owlpaw wants to just hide, but Morningspot said something dumb about effort, or trying, or whatever...
Owlpaw is shocked when Morningspot isn't mad with her. Morningspot does, however, ask that she walk away entirely and tell her instead next time it happens. She also asks that she say sorry to Perchwatcher for yelling, when she's feeling less angry.
Riftgorse, Branchsnarl and Perchwatcher go on a hunting patrol together. The two toms comfort Perchwatcher for what happened in camp...but they do put something tactfully that Perchwatcher needed to hear.
It worked. They succeeded. They rebuilt their wall, prepared their torches, and circled the den. The tendrils ducked and weaved like stubborn scavengers desperate to pull meat from a mountain lion's catch, but the flames challenged their resolve. Still, they were desperate. Hungering.
Deerpaw and Riftgorse were bruised by the Living Tendrils swiping at their feet and wrapping around their legs. Morningspot and Cloudthunder had the torches knocked from their grasps, and both mollies resorted to biting into them and pulling away with all their strength. Airpaw drove a torch through the one his mother had grasped. Daffodilpaw joined her sister as she witnessed her stabbing the torches at the holes the tendrils emerged from, both cats trembling with adrenaline.
Two tendrils weaved through into the den. Before any cat could act, a wrathful caterwaul emerged from the nursery. There was thrashing and contorting, until one of the tendrils retreated like a terrified dog. The other let out an alien screech as it was pulled taut. It writhed and writhed, until the black, vengeful shadow that was Hopechase was practically dragged to the entrance. She dove her claws into it one last time, her single white paw painting itself black with their blood. Only when it hissed and pulled back with more ferocity did she finally let go.
It took a few more minutes for all the stragglers to finally determine their prey would not die easily, cutting their losses and retreating into the woods. Cats yowled with triumph.
By all accounts, they won. They succeeded.
So why, as they gathered around a small funeral pyre, did this still feel like a failure?
*******
Iciclepool had a bad feeling. Perhaps it was that gut feeling, that deeply-seeded fear that caused her to hesitate in stopping her duties and telling the clan about her pregnancy. It was so unlike her. When she was younger, she failed to stifle her joy at her past pregnancies. Cats gently warned her to lower her expectations - to no avail. Every single one of her kits were so loved and wanted. When Cliffstep was still by her side - oh, stars, she wished he was still here - she purred and spoke gently to them as she felt her kits shifting and kicking on occasion. She could count the sets of feet after a time, and know how many she would have. And Cliffstep was so loving, so attentive - curling around her and his future family with warmth and care.
None of them ever survived past six moons.
Shiverstep was all of her hope, all of her love she could never give to her children. She cherished every second the little kit curled by her side at night and padded after her in camp. She cried with relief as it hit her that finally, finally, nothing would take away her baby. Redstar wouldn't send her on a cruel trial. No tendrils would come. She could watch her child grow, and become such a beautiful molly. And oh, she did. Shiverstep was such a kind, beautiful, wonderful soul. Was it so wrong for her to have hope? To see another kit of hers grow up again?
She should've listened to Hopechase. Oh, stars, why didn't she listen? Hopechase voiced her concerns when Iciclepool told her what she felt. The look in her eyes made her feel so ashamed. She didn't want to tell the medicine cats. She didn't want them to confirm her worst fears. Hadn't she suffered enough? Was she wrong to hope and pray they would all survive this time?
Three. In the time she carried her babies, she felt at least three kick. But in total, in nights where she would press her paw around her stomach, thinking of names, she felt the round bundles curled against her. Four. One never stirred.
Hopechase and Shiverstep had been her only solace in the past few days.
"Everything will be alright, love. StarClan is watching over you. Cliffstep. Rapidpaw. Valleypaw. Your sister, and all of our lost friends and family. They want us to succeed. I know they must." Hopechase had looked at her with those bright blue eyes, with an intensity that mirrored a cloudless sky. "And I will defend our family with everything I have."
Separately, Shiverstep spoke with determined intensity. Bags formed under her eyes, but a glint of hope shone within them. "I promise, mom. I promise that nothing will happen to you. To them. I have help. From…from StarClan. Clanmates." It sounded like Shiverstep stopped her list short, a name on her tongue that she refused to speak. "We're going to be okay. If something bad happens, I'll find a way."
Only Windfur seemed to pierce through her soul, returning the dread Iciclepool felt.
"...I…I don't want to fail you," Windfur meowed, his voice tight. The implication weighed heavily on their shoulders.
"...It won't be your fault. Please…please don't blame yourself if it happens." Iciclepool's voice cracked. She felt like a wounded doe, desperate to hide her injury. She inhaled, froze her pain beneath a sheet of ice in her body, and straightened. "I've lost kits before. This is nothing new to me. I will survive."
"...I don't want you to have to."
"But I will."
And she did.
As she heard the yowling, burning and thrashing outside, as she felt her mate looming over the nursery entrance, as she met her contractions with familiarity and listened to Windfur and Shiverstep's guidance, she prepared. She heard Windfur call for Brackenfreckle to be on standby. The distant sounds of roots tearing through the earth and cats hissing echoed.
The first cried out. A grey molly.
The second did not. A brown molly. The noise outside accompanied her dread. Shiverstep was removing the liquid, drying the fur, her blue eyes intense as she rubbed it between her paws.
In the tension, she was forced to deliver the third. Windfur quickly removed debris near its face, and it screeched in protest. Iciclepool released a laugh of dismay. A black tom.
Shiverstep still worked. She gritted her teeth as her rubbing intensified.
"Shiver," Windfur began sharply.
"I'm fine," Shiverstep retorted, failing to hide her fear. She pried open its mouth to search for debris. "Come on. Come on. Please."
Iciclepool's heart was rotting. Burning. Falling off its tendons.
She barely registered her beloved mate screeching and throwing herself at tendrils that dared to approach.
Iciclepool bit down as a final wave of pain came to her. She whimpered. Windfur refocused his attention and quickly helped deliver the last. It let out a continuous set of mews, refusing to quiet until it felt its mother. A brown tom.
Windfur pressed around rapidly. "That's…that's it."
Iciclepool nodded. She curled around her newborn kits. She stared as she watched Shiverstep - her eldest kit - still trying to stifle life back into the newborn. The world around her spun and blurred. Cats yowled in triumph. Iciclepool saw her mate pad up to her with a shine in her eyes, only for them to dim as she saw Shiverstep trying to resuscitate a newborn. Windfur didn't step in to stop her. He just stared with an unreadable expression.
Time passed cruelly. Shiverstep's ears folded further back. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her breath quickened. She started mouthing something inaudibly.
Brackenfreckle entered boldly, looking at Iciclepool and her three healthy kits. Her expression fell as she looked at Shiverstep.
"...Is it…?" she started. She wisely decided not to finish her thought.
Shiverstep choked back a sob. She breathed air through its nose. She began small, rhythmic compressions on its ribs. Her mouthing became desperate whispers.
"Please. I call to you. I call to you. Please. Please."
"Shiverstep," Iciclepool whimpered, unable to bear her daughter's despair.
"Please," she repeated. She blew air into the kit's nose again, turning it over and rubbing its back rigorously. Her lips curled back and her teeth gritted. "Help. Help. I need…" She choked back a sob as her fleeting hope turned to despair. "What do I do?" she mouthed. She broke and pressed her head against the newborn kitten.
Iciclepool couldn't bear it. She stumbled to her weakened feet, despite Brackenfreckle's brief protest and her kits' whining. Shiverstep looked away as her mother approached her, and reluctantly fell apart as Iciclepool sadly dug her teeth into the cleric's scruff, pulling her towards the nest like one of her newborns. The young cleric sobbed, and Windfur reluctantly took the newborn away from Shiverstep. The marbled molly forced herself to her feet, following Iciclepool back to her nest - lest she were dragged.
Windfur's dark blue eyes were unreadable as he stared at the newborn. He started doing light compressions with his paw.
Iciclepool allowed her remaining kits to suckle, and she forced herself to purr with comfort as Shiverstep buried her head into her shoulder.
Her heart still withered.
Eventually, cats peered in, asking questions. Brackenfreckle uneasily tried to shoo them away. Redstar herself was getting agitated at being denied entry.
"Redstar, just…give us a moment. Please," Hopechase called back. The emptiness in her tone must've silenced the leader.
Iciclepool watched Windfur continue trying to revive her stillborn kit. His expression was like stone, but she knew that desperation roiled within him. She glanced at her mate. Hopechase held her breath. Refused to look at her. Shiverstep trembled, repeating strained and near-silent, "I call, I call, please, please answer," muffled against her mother's shoulder.
Iciclepool's copper eyes stilled. She bit back a wail as the memory of her past flashed before her. Every kit stolen by a tendril. Every apprentice trial Lakestar commanded on her children. Every baby she never got to see grow.
StarClan...Please...please let this be the very last one. No more. My heart can't do it again. I just can't.
Softly, she whispered, "Hopechase...let her go, love."
Hopechase objected meekly. "No."
"Hope."
"I can't." Hopechase stared at the stillborn kit in desperation.
"Honey. It's okay." She strained to place her paw on her mate's. It felt wet like mud. "Let her go."
After a time that felt like a thousand seasons, Hopechase's ears flattened, she closed her eyes, and dipped her head. Her voice trembled.
"...Sparrowkit?" The request was earnest and pleading, and Iciclepool failed to swallow the knot in her throat.
"Yes."
Hopechase lifted her head back up. "...It's okay, Windfur. Let her go."
Windfur ignored her, his pupils dilating.
Hopechase slowly rose to her feet, padding up to him with a lowered tail. "Windfur."
Nothing.
"Stop." The warrior placed her paw on his shoulder. Only then did the cleric slow his pace, before finally stopping. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, before gently putting her down.
Hopechase picked up Sparrowkit by the scruff, bringing her over to Iciclepool.
"...I can tell the Clan what happened, if it helps." Brackenfreckle offered. "...I'm sorry for your loss."
Hopechase breathed deeply. "Yes. Thank you."
As Brackenfreckle padded out, and Hopechase curled herself behind her mate, Iciclepool silently groomed her children - Shiverstep included, who still lay defeatedly by her side.
The mother felt conflicted as she stared down at her five children - one gone, one grown, three born. Her sorrow was like purifying rain over a burning forest; emollient. She gave a few, tender licks on Sparrowkit's head, her voice still trembling.
"Look after your sister for me, won't you, Rapidpaw, Valleypaw?" She inhaled sharply. "I love you. So much."
---
After a somber funeral, Hopechase and Iciclepool sleep in the same nest with their new babies, cherishing them and making silent vows to protect them forever. They give them names - Mulberrykit, Ghostkit and Hazelkit.
DAZED. REELING. ABOUT TO BREAK. The Gardener attack left many, many cats stressed. Riversnow, Owlpaw, Daffodilpaw and Shiverstep are impacted more than others.
Redstar calls a Clan meeting. She makes a change to the Law of Informed Risk, re-emphasizing teaching youth details about the Deep Roots, and makes a new law to the Warrior Code - the Law of Fire, to teach and make more active use of fire in their combat and defensive measures. A faint hope blossoms.
(Redstar, leader, female, 78 moons. Strict.)
---
Redstar stood vigil all night next to a large fire stationed by the wreckage of their broken wall. She was used to it anyway. The only difference was that she didn't have a Woodcrawler den at her back.
The pyramid-like shape they constructed for the fire burned tall all night long, warding anything that dared to look in ForestClan's direction. Cats joined and left over the course of the night. Perchwatcher, staring at the fire with narrowed eyes, lost in thought. Tree, who stared out into the forest for a few hours, but said nothing. Windfur, who stared up at the stars. Cottonpaw, who added more wood to the fire as prior ones burned into cinders. Barleywave, whose gaze stared at nothing and everything; distant and present all at once. Hopechase, who tried to convince Redstar to try and nap for at least an hour. Morningspot, who stared out into the woods for about as long as Redstar did while others came and went - until she physically couldn't stay awake and fell unconscious by the fire. By the time she woke up again, a look of guilt plagued her vision. Every single cat that came eventually returned to Redstar's den, finding dreamless sleep with the rest of their clanmates. Redstar felt like an oak - standing firm while animals and insects spun around her vicinity, taking comfort in familiar stalwartness. When Iciclepool came down before dawn, Redstar told her what she wanted to tell the Clan. Changes she wished to make. Hoping that her decisions were right. Iciclepool listened intently, and when Redstar finished, she nodded, and agreed.
Dawn came. Not that it mattered. Cats were up in the blue light before sunrise anyway.
Redstar spared them from thinking on empty stomachs. She cooked them leftover birds and mice to share - prey she was grateful was spared from the damage. Some cats ate. Some felt obligated to take a few bites, but couldn't stomach much more.
Redstar had spent the night mulling what to say to her Clan. She recited her words over and over again. She wasn't good at inspiring hope. That was Hopechase's strength. It was the very reason Redstar renamed her from Lightfoot to Hopechase.
She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.
When she was young, the story of the spear-ringed camp brought her hope. She wished for so long that she could be a gentle cat. Someone that brought others a gentle place to live in. She thought that just trying to sacrifice herself alone would do it. A naive thought. In between those feeds, what then? Was she supposed to trust the woods to leave them alone? No. This devastation was proof.
She should've known that she was never going to be a gentle leader, gifting cats of all ages and walks of life a peaceful, stress-free life where the mockeries of nature never tried to take more than they were given. She was a spear. She was always a spear-maker, a bush made of thorns, a ravine of spikes below a cliff. She was a weapon of magnicide. She could never be anything else.
So the least she could do is teach others how to wield those same spears. Redstar organized a coup, once. If she could convince a small group of cats that they were stronger than a StarClan-blessed secret keeper, then she could convince them that they could terrify a Gardener.
When Redstar finally walked past them, she stood on the High Rock and spoke.
"Let all cats - regardless of age or status - gather below the High Rock for a Clan meeting."
It didn't take long for every cat to gather below. The exhausted Shiverstep and three outsider kits included. Redstar briefly looked at her Clan - exhausted, afraid and helpless.
Not anymore.
"I don't need to speak of what happened the night before. We all know what happened. There are a few cats I want to speak to privately after this."
Redstar said this first for the sake of stifling conversation about Owlpaw's actions for a few minutes. She saw Branchsnarl, Deerpaw and Shadekit shift a little in their spots. Riversnow's tail wrapped around Owlpaw, eyes fierce. Owlpaw's gaze was locked to the floor, as it had been since she woke. Shiverstep also kept her gaze on the floor - but for a different reason. Redstar wanted to speak to her as well - but after Owlpaw.
"First. I wish to apologize for my failures."
There were a few confused mrrps that came from the crowd. A single "what?" came from Cottonpaw. Redstar continued.
"For a long time - I had hoped to make ForestClan a gentler place. I didn't want to raise terrified kits and nervous apprentices. I didn't want to expose cats to the horrors of the woods. I wanted…" Redstar swallowed. "I wanted to be a…a wall from that. If only I had to be exposed to the Deep Root entities regularly, then I could protect cats from staring them in the face. I could protect ForestClan from…this." Redstar scanned her gaze sadly over her home. A broken west wall. Broken warrior's den. Chipped walls. Broken pulleys, dug out ground and a dented apprentice den. A few cats murmured. Tree was brave enough to chirp in, their voice leveled.
"That was never going to be possible. At the very least, Living Tendrils would always get past."
"And kits don't stay kits forever." Perchwatcher seemed spurned by Tree's bravery, her blue eyes sharp with carved memory. "Apprentices and warriors would be exposed to them too on patrols."
"I'm…pretty sure Redstar's not being literal, guys," Barleywave meowed.
Redstar felt a needle through her heart as her Clan started to bicker. She fought every urge to retort as she remembered her place on the Rock. She remembered the golden and brown face of an enraged cat screaming down at them. She closed her eyes, and tried to allow the needle to go through her back. It hung on. Hurt.
"Quiet, please."
Redstar turned her head to see Iciclepool stepping out from the crowd and calmly sitting down at the base of the rock. She curled her tail around her paws and stood straight. Cats stared at the deputy.
"I know you have a lot of feelings and unspoken thoughts. A lot of resentment and pain. We are all frightened from the Gardener attack. If there is one thing I can implore of you this morning, please," Iciclepool's copper eyes were filled with a rare softness. "Listen to Redstar for just a few more minutes. I was consulted about this announcement before it was made. I think it is a good change. A necessary one."
Redstar stared down at her deputy. Iciclepool met her gaze with a smile. For a second, Redstar felt the urge to cry as she remembered the kit who was three moons younger than her in the nursery. She remembered teaching her the best way to crunch leaf-fall leaves. That's what she wished she could preserve, and she felt like maybe she was giving up on it with this announcement.
But maybe not. If Iciclepool, the cat who loved being a parent, believed this was right - then she had to believe that.
Redstar straightened and continued. "I hear your criticisms. And I understand. I will not pretend that my idealism did not result in a culture of misunderstandings and a source of pain. For this, I take all responsibility. That is my greatest failure."
Perchwatcher blinked, her ears flicking with attention. Tree relaxed, their eyes softening.
"My attempts to shield others about the horrors of the woods did not help. I am claiming responsibility for this coddling." Redstar omitted the fact that the rest of ForestClan's adult founders - Cloudthunder, Iciclepool, Hopechase, Barleywave and Windfur - contributed to their budding culture of reluctance as well. It didn't matter. She refused to let others cast resentment on them. "Because of my reluctance, a Gardener was allowed to follow our clanmates home. I was ill equipped to address it with the urgency it needed. It is thanks to Hopechase that we survived."
Hopechase's ear flicked.
"I never want this to happen to ForestClan again. So, I am seeking to make changes to the Code we follow. I call upon our warrior ancestors to witness these changes, and approve of my choice."
All eyes were on her now. She stared out beyond the walls. A fire burned in her chest as she resented every Woodcrawler, every Fake Being, every Infected Predator, Gardener and Nature's Mockery that grew and festered in ForestClan's woods.
I'm making weapons. You will regret ever letting me live. I'm coming for you.
"I seek to revise the Law of Informed Risk. It is not enough for the names, hunting methods or rarity of Deep Root entities to be emphasized. Lockdown procedures will be taught from a young age, and knowing how to deal with each creature will be taught before apprenticeship, not during. This process began with our newest members," Redstar glanced at the outsider kits, who stared back with wide, blue eyes. "But I am re-emphasizing it for official records, and it will cover all known creatures. For the sake of spoken record, the known Deep Root entities we are addressing are as follows; Woodcrawlers, Fake Cats, Fake Twolegs, Infected Predators, Nature's Mockery, Luring Lights, Living Tendrils, Gardeners, and the Wretch. "
A few murmurs erupted from the crowd, Deerpaw murmuring a bit too loudly, "Hasn't the Wretch only ever appeared once…?"
"Yes. That doesn't matter. Rarity should have zero influence on whether or not we have procedures against it. And we will practice these procedures, in every season. Iciclepool and I will discuss these revised processes before announcing and teaching them to the Clan. Second - I wish to introduce a new Law to the code."
More murmurs. She waited for the crowd to die down a bit before continuing.
"Ancestors of StarClan, as my witnesses, I am adding the Law of Fire. Fire use and management will be considered as vital as knowledge about the Deep Roots. From three moons old, kits will be taught about fire safety and fire management. They will learn how to maintain and tend to them with supervision from adults. Every apprentice and adult will be taught how to craft torches, create fires, and use them as weapons against various monsters. This applies to all Clan roles - clerics, healers, mediators and elders included. Any cats patrolling at night for any reason will require a cat to bring a torch."
There were a few meows of concern - Olive in particular raised her tail to speak, but spoke out regardless.
"That seems dangerous. There would be an increased risk of forest fires - something that could kill all cats very quickly."
"I am aware of the dangers of fire. Hence, the fire safety training. We will teach it as something dangerous, to be used with care and respect, not without thought. We will also create a procedure for escaping the forest in case of a forest fire - something that we should've always had in the first place, given how often Twolegs create and improperly extinguish them to begin with. In addition," Redstar raised her tail, "fire will not only be used as a weapon. I wish to find a way to establish standing torches around the camp, if possible. My reasoning for all of this is because of what Tree found the night prior. Iciclepool, if you could."
Cats watched as Iciclepool padded away, then came back with a linen bundle. She placed it in front of the small crowd, then unwrapped the linen. In the middle was the claw-like foot of the Gardener - half-charred, its dead, red tendons curled like the legs of dead spiders. Cats leaned in to inspect it - with Shadekit meowing loudly, "What's that?" and bouncing up to it. Half the Clan gasped and Shadekit was yanked back by Riftgorse.
"Do not touch it!" Riftgorse growled.
"Why? What is it?"
"You may remember the sound we heard before the Gardener fled. A loud crack. That night, we were saved by the cinders of the cooking fire. And that," Redstar gestured with her tail, "is its foot. The cinders blew it clean off. That is how weak they are to fire. We've used fire against Living Tendrils before, but now more than ever, we need the Deep Root entities to fear you. Because they should. It took a few pawfuls of cinders for the Gardener's foot to sever." The leader's eyes burned with intensity. "Fire is not a universal solution. Woodcrawlers are ambushers - too fast. Fake Beings are better isolated and avoided entirely until they naturally perish. But Infected Predators, Gardeners, Living Tendrils? We will teach you how to use it against them. We will make them hesitate. We will make them fear the weapon you wield. We are cats - hunters. They will respect that."
ForestClan stared up at Redstar attentively. A few were wary, some were unreadable. But more seemed quietly emboldened, tails flicking and shoulders straightening. Good enough. Wariness was understandable, given the night before and a lack of sleep. Redstar slumped, then sighed. She wasn't looking forward to this next part.
"That's all the major changes. But, now I have one final request." She paused for a bit, mentally preparing herself. "I know that there has been a lot of hesitation to share our thoughts and feelings with each other. We are all entitled to privacy. I am not here to force anyone to talk. However." Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the Clan. "Refusing to disclose vital information that could save someone's life, and bottling up our feelings towards Clanmates out of unspoken resentment, is not helping. I am not here to accuse or demean, but here is an example. Deerpaw," Redstar looked at the brown and white molly, and the apprentice seemed shocked to be called on. "Last greenleaf. When Cottonpaw spoke her intent to leave camp, what would've helped more? To wake up a warrior and tell them what happened right away, or to join her?"
Deerpaw shuffled meekly, staring at the floor. "I…I should've said something."
"Correct. Daffodilpaw, you said Owlpaw told you in the morning her intent to leave at night. What would've happened if you told Cloudthunder much earlier?"
Riversnow bristled, but Barleywave pressed his tail on her back. Daffodilpaw avoided Redstar's gaze, eyes glued to the floor. After a dozen seconds without any response, Redstar decided to spare the young apprentice.
"Cloudthunder could've talked to me, or your mother, or Iciclepool. We could've talked to Owlpaw."
Daffodilpaw finally squeaked. "I promised her not to…"
"Owlpaw could've died. I know you want to respect your sister, but yesterday could've ended very differently." Redstar scanned her gaze over the Clan, whose solemnity and anxiety rippled back into them. "So before we disband, I want to clear the air. As a Clan, right now. If there's anything that you are keeping from your Clanmates that you believe is very important, or if you have any feelings, apprehensions or unaired grievances you wish known, speak now."
A tense silence fell upon the Clan. As the rays of dawn began creeping up over the horizon, the songs of chickadees filled the quiet. Redstar curled her tail around herself. "...I will give it a few minutes. We all need time to think."
And so there were. Cats stared at the Gardener's severed foot. At their paws, at the ruined corners of camp. Redstar noticed Brackenfreckle gently raking her claws in between blades of grass, her eyes narrowed with thought. Cloudthunder glanced at the sky before darting her eyes elsewhere, clearly trying to formulate a sentence. Blackkit and Nectarkit stared at the floor. Shadekit stared up at Redstar, then finally raised one of his paws.
"...Yes, Shadekit? You wish to say something?" Iciclepool beckoned gently.
"Can I learn how to make fire now?" Shadekit asked.
A few cats broke down their wall of nervousness, a few mrrows of amusement erupting between them. Redstar's whiskers twitched, her eyes narrowing with mirth.
"Not right at this moment. But perhaps if we have time today, we can. There's a lot of work we have to do."
"...Can I insist someone else speak a secret?" Hopechase asked. Redstar tilted her head at her, confused by the wording.
"Elaborate?"
Hopechase glanced at Iciclepool, serious but compassionate. "Honey."
Iciclepool bristled. "Hopechase, not right now."
"That's alright. But before the end of this meeting, please."
"I…I…fine."
"...Should we be concerned?" Redstar asked, tense.
"I would've said no a few days ago, but…" Iciclepool sighed.
Airpaw stared at his mentor. After a few moments, he said calmly, "I guess I have a question."
"Yes?" Iciclepool pressed.
"Are you pregnant?"
Iciclepool bristled and choked back a squeak. Hopechase couldn't help but burst with laughter. Cottonpaw, Deerpaw and Cloudthunder all frantically tried to shush or glare at Airpaw, who seemed unfazed.
"Airpaw, come on, don't comment on someone's weight!" Deerpaw hissed.
"It's not that. It's fighting practice," Airpaw clarified politely. "I haven't learned rolling recoveries yet. I asked about it, but you were reluctant to show me 'cause of back pain. For…uh, two weeks straight. And, yeah, fine, the weight gain. It was fast."
"Your apprentice is a sharp one, Iciclepool," Hopechase said with a smirk.
"Hopechase, please," Iciclepool groaned.
"You're pregnant?" Shiverstep rasped with wide eyes.
"That surprises me too," Windfur tilted his head. "Why didn't - I mean, how long?"
Iciclepool winced, but seemingly gave up and slumped sadly. "Since last moon."
"What?" Redstar exclaimed. Oh my stars, what was her deputy doing? Why was she still active? "You've been pregnant for an entire month?"
"I was doing fine with my duties, really, and I wasn't quite sure how to break the news. I was going to do it soon, really, but then, well…"
"Mom, you need herbs! You need borage and herbs that are better for queens - " Shiverstep cut off her own complaint with a cough.
"Uh…This was a secret?" Riftgorse asked, head tilting.
"...Rift, what?" Brackenfreckle uttered, staring at her brother.
"Well, yeah! She wasn't, like, eating all of our food. We'd notice that. It's not a winter coat coming in, trust me, I have a winter coat, I know what that looks like, so I just figured Iciclepool already told everyone important, and nobody was talking about it. Actually, I was waiting for you to tell me," Riftgorse said, frowning at his sister.
"I didn't know shit, brother," Brackenfreckle hissed.
For a minute, the Clan fell into chaos yapping about Iciclepool's pregnancy. Iciclepool looked mortified. Redstar felt frustrated that her deputy didn't tell her anything. She had a suspicion, but she assumed that she'd tell her if it was something that important.
Oh StarClan. Assumptions and silence. This…all of this had to stop.
"Alright, alright, settle down please," Redstar yowled. "So, Iciclepool is pregnant. That is good to know. Let's move on. Does anyone else have something to add?"
"Actually, Iciclepool's pregnancy brings up a possible danger. The west wall collapsed," Perchwatcher piped up, gesturing with her tail at the broken gap. "Living Tendrils can easily slip in if this isn't repaired as quickly as possible."
"Actually, I can help with that," Barleywave spoke up, tail twitching. "I've had to repair a broken log on a wall before. This is…er…several, granted. But it should be the same process. We'll have to see how bad the damage is on individual logs to see if we need to replace it or caulk it."
"I suppose I should also ask," Olive interjected calmly. "Why are the procedures being set solely by you and Iciclepool? I believe it would be wise to set them as a group, publically."
A few cats meowed in agreement to this. Hesitant, Redstar's tail flicked.
"I suppose we could. I simply want to avoid confusion or conflict during the setup phase, hence why I wanted to keep it restricted."
"Why not make a temporary council? I think it's very important that we add multiple voices to the creation of these safety protocols. Redstar, you're headstrong, loyal, and determined. But the current lockdowns rely on every cat being where they should be - in your eyes, that's by your side. In reality, as seen yesterday, cats can be out there instead. We must have procedures to protect them, too, without endangering everyone else."
Olive's words stung, but Hopechase nodded sagely and gave Redstar a knowing look.
"I think that's a wise policy."
"Very well," Redstar meowed. "Anything else?"
For the next few minutes, Redstar watched as her clanmates spoke up, and added their voices, bit by bit. Some were ideas. Some were questions that desperately needed answers.
"I'm still not sure about wanting to put torches outside of camp. That sounds like a dangerous idea."
"I'm not okay. I don't understand why we're acting like a beast with the light of a star didn't just try to kill us all. I don't want to die."
"Redstar, I want to reach out to my father, Lucifer. Maybe he'd be willing to help us."
"...Fine. Look, I need to know something. I think, before I joined the Clan, I was…maybe given misinformation. Some of it might be true, but I don't know what's real or not. So tell me straight, and be honest. Don't pussyfoot around this. Has ForestClan, at any point in its history, spoken to Woodcrawlers?"
"Redstar, I…I met Endless, once, back last leafbare…b-but that's it, I promise, s-she was injured, so…so I gave her some of our horsetail. I haven't seen her since, I promise."
"...Morningspot is trying to cover for me. She didn't give the horsetail. I did. Morningspot asked me for help. Endless didn't want to come to camp, and I couldn't force her. I gave her the best treatment I could with what I had, and she left. Last time I saw her was…the moon Brackenfreckle and I came back with Blavignad's kits."
"...Can we like…raid the Twolegplace? No, no, I'm serious! Have you seen what Twolegs have? They have like, these colorful sticks that if you hold them near wood, they catch fire? It makes a 'click' sound when it happens. That could be helpful, right?"
"I…I want to say something specific, but I'd like to say it in private. I don't know if anything can be done about it."
"I'm mad. I'm just mad and upset and I want to blame someone but I don't…I don't feel like I'm allowed to."
"I, uh…hm. Mousedung, I forgot what I was going to say. Sorry."
"Can I learn how to make a fire now?! I want to kill the Gardener!"
"I'm really scared about the broken wall. I don't know how long it'll take to fix it, and I'm scared something else might come through."
"I just want to make the offer that if anyone wants to talk about what happened last night - whether you're scared or don't know how to feel - I'm willing to listen without interruption. I don't just mediate disagreements. Sometimes it's good to just…speak."
Redstar at some point had to call the meeting short. But hearing the voices of her clanmates, and listening to their words, for once, felt humbling. She was grateful, at least, that they had enough courage to say how they felt. Ask difficult questions.
The only one remained quiet the entire way through, was Owlpaw.
Redstar would have a long talk with her in private shortly. Plans were made to create a council once time-sensitive repairs were complete. Redstar told Iciclepool to come see her after she assigned groups to help rebuild the walls and start working on the dens. She watched with some quiet awe as cats slowly started picking up branches, covering up holes, and gathering broken pieces of equipment.
It was a start.
---
Redstar has an extremely difficult conversation with Owlpaw, who is still clinging - perhaps out of fear and shame - to a defiant attitude. Redstar scares her straight and punishes her for her actions.
Getting Owlpaw into Redstar's den was the easy part. Getting her to speak was not.
"Owlpaw. Please answer the question."
Owlpaw stared at the floor.
"Did you hear me?"
"...Yeah," she mumbled.
"...Did you need a minute to gather your thoughts before answering?" Redstar decided that this was probably something Iciclepool would say to a seemingly stubborn apprentice. Redstar really, really, did not want to play a disciplinary villain. She assumed, given the horrifying events of the night before, that Owlpaw would've recognized how badly her actions affected the Clan. Perhaps shown remorse, like Cottonpaw did for her own actions before. But that was the problem - Owlpaw had to actually show it.
But Redstar wasn't a mind reader. An apprentice with her eyes glued to the floor and giving one-word answers wasn't a sign of anything except stonewalling.
Owlpaw said nothing.
Redstar's tail twitched. She scowled.
Owlpaw was always difficult. She did not listen to adults well, defied direct orders and lashed out at her peers easily. The fact that she didn't believe Deep Root Entities were real completely blew Redstar's mind when Daffodilpaw said it - Owlpaw kept that belief extremely well-guarded for a kit, and her refusal to express it led to her doing something extremely dangerous. Given that the worst possible thing that could have happened - minus the Wretch burrowing out from beneath them - actually happened, she needed to hear from her directly that she no longer held that belief, and that she would listen to camp procedures and safety protocols now.
"Owlpaw, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Right now, you are choosing the hard way. I do not want the hard way. It'll be frustrating for you, not for me."
Owlpaw's tail flinched, but still - nothing.
"I'll ask only one last time. Do you believe us now when we say that there are monsters in the woods?"
Owlpaw scowled, closing her eyes tightly. Her claws dug into the ground. Finally, after a long moment, Owlpaw…nodded. Almost imperceptibly, as though it physically hurt her to do so. Redstar suppressed a sigh. Good enough.
"Do you understand now why we have the rules we do?"
Long silence again. Redstar scowled, her patience wearing thin. She did not have time for this, she had to get through speaking to Iciclepool, then Shiverstep.
"Owlpaw, you're taking the hard way again. I don't want that for you."
Owlpaw opened her eyes. They swirled like grey storm clouds. She finally cast her gaze on the leader, and they were glazed with resentment.
"I don't care what you want."
A switch flipped in Redstar's head, and for a brief second, there was regret. Disappointment.
I'm sorry, Riversnow. I know you were worried how I'd react. I tried.
"Do you, now? Very well. Then let me make this easy for me, and get straight to the point." Redstar's gaze hardened, and for a moment, she could've sworn an iota of fear passed through Owlpaw's eyes like a shooting star. Redstar didn't raise her voice. She didn't want to. "You almost destroyed everything and everyone you knew and loved because of your arrogance. For moons, we told you about Deep Root entities because they were real, and they were dangerous. Never in my entire life have I seen a cat actively try and find a monster, just to prove themselves right."
Owlpaw opened her mouth to retort, but Redstar interjected with a snarl, snapping at the air. Owlpaw flinched. "I wanted to have you acknowledge your mistakes, and apologize for your actions. But you didn't care what I wanted, so you've lost that privilege. You will have to earn that forgiveness now. You will have what you asked for instead."
Owlpaw began loudly, "I didn't ask for - "
"SILENCE!"
Owlpaw froze, her ears flattening. The world outside Redstar's den froze. ForestClan clearly heard her. Redstar continued with a hiss in every word.
"You could've died. I need to emphasize just how lucky you are to be alive right now. Daffodilpaw says you think they're just boogeymen to scare children? Then I will give you the rare gift of my complete honesty. Let me tell you about the adult-scaring boogeymen.
"Woodcrawlers aren't just 'spider-like creatures that disguise as brambles'. Woodcrawlers are wood mimics. Absolutely anything that takes the appearance of bare branches can be a Woodcrawler. Every single bramble, every thorn bush, every pile of dead, curling wood, small tree, lifted roots, and dying shrub could be a Woodcrawler. They purposefully hide in dense foliage where you're likely to miss them, or huddle into patches of roots, waiting for you to do a regular border patrol. You could've grazed past one without even knowing in the middle of the night, and then died. You would've felt their limbs wrap around your legs and neck, and be powerless to stop them from dragging you into the depths of their tunnels.
"Fake Cats aren't Woodcrawlers disguised as cats. They are the reanimated bodies of their victims. You could've heard a cat screaming for help, and in a flicker of compassion, or even morbid curiosity, approached the sound of a crying cat. And the second you get too close, it will unravel and seize you. It will try to kill you like a Woodcrawler. Perchwatcher almost died to one as an apprentice, her jaw broken from its tendrils. If you die to either of these entities, you become a Fake Cat. Your loved ones will hear your voice screaming for help for days, and they will not be able to save you - because you are long gone.
"But last night, you encountered a Gardener. A thing so rare and horrible that I've never seen one until last night. I have no interest in finding out how it kills you. But you almost did. You were out there that night, and led it straight back to camp, nearly killing everyone you knew and loved. And situations like this, Owlpaw, is why we had archaic rules like 'if a cat vanishes at nightfall, and does not reappear in the morning, they are dead'. Sending out a search party in the middle of the night was a suicide mission. It was considered for the greater good to let one cat die, than risk anything else being lured back to camp.
"I've given you the truth. Do you feel better now? Does this make them more believable to you? Do you feel vindicated from this?"
Owlpaw's expression morphed as Redstar spoke. There was still anger, still resentment, a childish rebuke clearly boiling at the surface. But Redstar knew better from Owlpaw's long fur bristling on all ends and tears welling up in her eyes. Shame. Hurt. Anger rooted in fear.
"You almost killed ForestClan. And instead of apologizing for the fact that you almost killed twenty cats, you wanted to sit in front of me and say foxdunged-all, and then dared to tell me that you don't care what some other cat wanted."
"...That's not what I meant."
"Owlpaw, when a cat says, 'I don't want you to take the hard path', and your response is, 'I don't care what you want', there is no other meaning. Nobody can read your mind, nor are they going to waste their precious time trying to do so. When you talk, they will trust that you actually mean exactly what you say. If you didn't actually mean this, then why say it?"
"I…I don't know."
"All I asked was for you to talk to me. That's it. After we just spent over an hour at a meeting, with all of your clanmates opening up about things they never voiced before, I thought that maybe, just maybe, you would've grown up from this experience."
Owlpaw stared back at the floor, ears pinned back. For a second, Redstar thought she was trembling. The leader's tail flicked.
"Since you evidently haven't, here's what's going to happen instead. First, you're going to tear your eyes off the ground and look at me."
Owlpaw did so. The corner of her eyes were red.
"You're going to look around the camp, look at every single broken den and wall, and you're going to ask Barleywave how you can help with repairing them. You led the Gardener here. So you're going to take responsibility helping to fix the damage. Then, starting tomorrow, Morningspot is going to come up with a suitable punishment for you to fulfill for an entire moon. Then, and this is incredibly important. I will not force you to do this, but it would be beneficial." Redstar closed her eyes and sighed. "...I want you to actually talk to someone. It doesn't matter if it's your mother, or Morningspot, or Olive, or whoever. But we're not your enemy. We're your clanmates. We cannot have situations where cats run off on their own, not after last night. Am I understood?"
The two mollies glared at each other, until Redstar's seriousness won out, and Owlpaw reluctantly nodded.
"Say it."
"I understand."
"Good. You're dismissed. Go talk to Barleywave. I've told him to expect you."
Redstar couldn't catch Owlpaw's face as she briskly left the den, and jumped down from High Rock. Redstar exhaled, forcing herself to groom her back. The spike of anger fuelling her adrenaline crashed, and Redstar realized just how tired she felt.
And she still had to talk to two more cats. StarClan, please.
---
Shiverstep has an honest talk with Windfur and Redstar about her trances. She does bring up her nightmare about Endless, and how it was similar to what Cottonpaw saw. To her relief, there's a term for cats like her before - dream walkers. Shiverstep's still not quite sure if that's what's actually happening, but she takes the scapegoat.
The meeting with Iciclepool went smoother than she was expecting. In the end, it boiled down to fear. Iciclepool wanted this, Hopechase wanted this, they found a sire out eastward and everything - but the moment it became real, she froze in all aspects. Thoughts plagued her relentlessly - she was the Clan deputy, she'd be giving birth close to winter, she had an apprentice to mentor, and perhaps above all, the memory of failing to actually be a mother that could watch her children grow hurt. All Redstar had to do was reassure her and promise to protect her and her kits as best as they could, and with the new Law of Fire, cats would be more comfortable and prepared to ward off threats. And Hopechase, of course, would be defending her staunchly. And she was still ForestClan's deputy, even if she was a queen for a few moons.
The real revelatory conversation was with Shiverstep.
Meanwhile, Shiverstep was internally panicking.
Iciclepool told her that she said some very concerning things when the Gardener knocked at the den. Shiverstep didn't remember any of it, just like alleged trances she had as a child. It was several moons since anything similar happened to her, and there was no way to pretend it didn't happen - not anymore. What was she supposed to say? The greatest thing that frightened her was having to talk about Rootgrove.
Because Rootgrove was...something true horror was made from. She tried to reflect on how to tell someone, as the voices on the waves from beyond suggested. But the longer she thought about it, the more horrifying it became. Yes, dear friends, there is a very old cat that was consumed by the woods, and instead of killing him, something happened that kept him alive. She had no idea how. But if what she said was true, then when they died, when their kits and children and friends and family died, there was a chance that the woods would take their spirits and trap them, and that not even StarClan could save you if it did. And from how Rootgrove spoke over the Silver Box, the process was pure agony, constant pain, misery and wailing and screaming to a universe that responded with apathy. Oh, stars, she couldn't. She couldn't, couldn't. She...how could she? How could she tell Iciclepool that her dead kits might've suffered fates worse than death? How could she tell Hopechase that every dead clanmate she ever knew might've become monsters?
Rootgrove is the only one she ever saw in this state. In her horror, she had no idea if he was the only one. StarClan implied that he was. But she couldn't prove that to her Clanmates. Not all of them spoke to StarClan. Not all of them even believed StarClan was real. But Rootgrove wasn't a concept, something to have faith in. He existed physically. He was living evidence that you could die, and still be conscious. Rotting. Stretching. Carved and husked as a shell for something else. And feel all of it.
How? How was she supposed to explain her ability to...to receive messages? And that she was hearing the messages from...from this monstrosity?
Redstar's ear twitched as she saw the sickly molly nearly tremble in fear. "...Shiverstep? Are you alright?"
"...I...I don't know," Shiverstep spoke, her voice a mere squeak.
"...Were you told what happened last night?"
"...I...I said...concerning things," she meowed.
"Were you aware of it?"
"No."
"Then yes. I would call this concerning." Redstar's tail twitched. "Has this happened to you before?"
Despite her terror, a part of Shiverstep...wanted to be honest. And...she felt if Redstar was determined, all she had to do is prod Windfur or Iciclepool to ask if she was telling the truth. She shuffled uncomfortably. "...Yes."
"When?"
Oh, StarClan, please.
"I...I don't remember."
"...But it has happened. Has someone spoken to you about this before?"
Shiverstep felt her heard racing. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to talk about all the times Windfur regarded with suspicion. Avoided her. Oh, stars. He must've thought she was speaking to the Iris. She wasn't. She really wasn't. She didn't want Redstar to think so too. She wasn't a monster. She wasn't a herald. She wasn't trying to receive -
A small crack of light broke through the haze of her illness. She felt herself sniffling. She felt a burst of fresh air enter her lungs again. For a brief moment, she...she remembered one of your spoken sentences. And in the haze of her sickness, it somehow became shifted sideways.
"If you're ready to, tell Redstar and Windfur about us. They'll be more receptive than you'd hope, I'm sure."
You. You. But what were you, exactly? You were just - just messages, just voices on electromagnetic waves that she openly received without choice -
Something clicked.
Wait.
StarClan's explanation. Of her ability, of how she kept receiving messages on waves on all fronts. Pieces started falling together and for a moment, she felt delirious.
"...Shiverstep?"
Hold on. Wait. StarClan told her that dreams were how they used to communicate with the Clans. StarClan used electromagnetic waves to do so. Endless. If Endless was somehow emitting waves, then that could explain how Cottonpaw received the dream about the crow-footed tree, and also explains how Shiverstep received a similar nightmare a few days ago. That - wait, that explained how she saw Rootgrove in her nightmare as well - he was screaming for help, and his waves were caught on her dream. Rootgrove could transmit messages - that's how she heard him at the Silver Box. But Endless. Endless had to have gained that same ability. Maybe as a result of Rootgrove's attack on her - she didn't know how, but that was the only explanation.
If she was going to be seized by foreign messages on waves in times of stress, and if Endless was communing with the Deep Root entities...the Clan had to know. Shiverstep's eyes widened.
"Shiverstep, are you alright? You seem pale. Do you need - "
If they had to know about Endless...then they had to know about...the Woodcrawler she made a bargain with.
The Clan didn't need to know about Rootgrove the cat. But they did need to know about the monstrous, corrupted Woodcrawler.
Relief. Freedom.
Shiverstep started crying.
She doesn't really know what happened. She remembered apologizing repeatedly and trying to push Redstar away from her, suddenly remembering that she still had greencough and felt absurd levels of horrible. A coughing fit. The relief of being able to tell someone about the horrible monster in a way that benefitted the Clan instead of jeopardized its sanity overwhelmed her choices. Because somehow she ended up asking for Windfur, and now to her partial regret, the three secret holders were gathered in this den while she was having a coughing fit.
Finally, after regaining herself, she managed to start.
"A few moons ago," she sniffled, "StarClan...told me something important. I...I asked them about Cottonpaw's dream. I also...realized that at sudden points in my life, when I was stressed, I would lose my memory sometimes. I think...I think Windfur, you might've thought it was from the Iris. So did StarClan."
Windfur bristled, but stared at the ground in shame. Redstar, meanwhile, had her tail and neck lifting, a genuine stare of dread on her face.
"I-It wasn't the Iris, it wasn't, Redstar," Shiverstep suppressed a cough. "B-But...after observing me for a few moons, they concluded something strange. StarClan...before the Wretch...used to freely communicate with cats through dreams. They used...um, they called it 'waves'. Waves are...invisible forces in the air that emit off of living things. Sometimes, though, if you're capable of emitting waves strong enough, you can put messages on them. For cats, we've been able to receive those messages through dreams."
"Wait. Time out." Windfur raised his tail, his eyes shut. He took a deep breath, as though letting this fact sink in. "Just...let me make sure I understand correctly here. StarClan has the ability to send messages through a...specific tool. But that tool is also just an energy that passively emits off of everything."
Shiverstep nodded. "Yes. They...refine the energy around themselves, and direct it towards someone with a message."
"And to receive the message, we need to be dreaming."
"Yes."
"Okay," Windfur sighed. "Continue."
Shiverstep turned to Redstar for permission, who nodded, intently focused.
"As I said...waves emit off of...everything. We were only able to receive messages from StarClan for the longest time, but...they told me that I was...odd. I could...receive messages from other sources, as long as that source wasn't impeded. I was safe from the Iris, because StarClan was intervening with it. But...other things have the ability to send messages. And...I think I'm...receiving messages from those...other things. From the recent experience I guess...that implies I can receive them while I'm asleep or awake. But I can't send my own, which...I don't really know what that means, but that's what StarClan said. I don't know how much of it is relevant, or just random, but..."
"What you said the night of the Gardener attack - it was both...relevant and irrelevant at the same time." Redstar commented.
"...What did I say?" Shiverstep partially dreaded to know.
"More significantly, 'Do not answer the knocking at the door.'" Windfur's tail tapped the ground, his dark blue eyes flickering with unknown emotion. "But, then you said words that didn't...sound cat-like. I think the best I can compare it to are kittypet names."
"Like?" Shiverstep pressed.
Redstar's ear twitched. "Adam Lev itch? Barry John's son? It was...hectic. I'm sorry, Shiverstep. That wasn't really a priority. The Gardener...was hitting at the roof of the bunker."
Shiverstep's heart sunk deeply into her chest. She was told the Gardener stepped on a fire and ran away, but before that...
Stars, that's horrifying.
"...So, you receive random messages emitted from...the same tools StarClan used to communicate to cats in their dreams. Is that...not concerning?" Windfur asked, his voice tight. For a moment, defensiveness curled in Shiverstep's chest, remembering his actions towards her in her apprenticehood.
She retorted, "Twolegs know how to use them too. That's how the Iris targets them."
A heavy silence fell. Shiverstep's eyes became glued to the floor.
...She had to go on. She had to get this information out before she lost her nerve. With a tightness in her chest, she proposed what she believed was the source of Cottonpaw's dream. Endless. Because she saw something similar as well, in a nightmare a few days before. And if that was the case, Endless was able to emit those same waves, somehow. And if she could do that - if she could call to beings in their dreams, to anything receptive enough to receive it, then it was a possible danger to ForestClan.
During this explanation, Redstar's gaze intensified. Slowly, as time went on, her pupils dilated.
Shiverstep looked concerned. "...Redstar?"
"I understand now. Shiverstep, it's alright. You're alright." Redstar pressed a paw on the cleric's shoulder, and Shiverstep was taken aback from the softness in the leader's eyes. "There's a historical basis for cats like you. I was a bit lost from your explanation, but when you explained your dreams, and how you saw the same one Cottonpaw did - Shiverstep, you're a dream walker. You can walk into dreams not intended for you. Messages not intended for you. Cats like you have existed in ForestClan's history before. It's exceedingly rare, but it's a gift."
Shiverstep froze. "It....it is?" A trickle of doubt wrestled in her. She wasn't...quite sure if that was what was actually happening. But as she caught Windfur from corner of her eye suddenly having a look of realization, she decided...perhaps that was easier. A...a word to explain in simple terms to others what was occurring. Especially if something similar happened like the night before.
"...Redstar, there's one more thing I think I need to tell you, if I can tell you in private. It's...it's about the Woodcrawler Brackenfreckle and I were threatened by, last greenleaf..."
----
Redstar finds Cottonpaw trying to be helpful around camp. She's...digging a hole between the leader's den and medicine den? After hearing her reasoning, she agrees it's something they should discuss. While Cottonpaw is still likely to act before thinking, Redstar is proud of Cottonpaw's progress.
Barleywave and Branchsnarl find that the Twoleg object cuts wood well when dropped. It's not perfect, but they could reuse some of the broken logs by flattening the broken ends, and stacking them on top of each other. They congratulate each other for a job well done.
Riversnow is surprisingly competant at repairing tanning and drying racks, but goes a bit too long without eating. Barleywave urges her to take a break. As it turns out, near-death experiences tend to result in more honesty.
All the apprentices and kits avoid Owlpaw. Although they won't say it out loud - they blame her for bringing the Gardener to camp. Except for Cottonpaw. Owlpaw hasn't spoken since the night she saw the Gardener.
Redstar is frustrated when she starts coughing and her nose starts running. Brackenfreckle confines her to the medicine den, telling her that Shiverstep still has greencough, and she doesn't want to risk her whitecough becoming something more than that.
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Riftgorse feels depressed after Blackpaw died last moon, feeling responsible for her death. perchwatcher tries to distract him, and asks Riftgorse if he wanted to go on a walk together. Riftgorse accepts, finding comfort in her.
Windfur tells Shadepaw about his recent meeting to the Moon Dome, and how he saw Blackpaw, seemingly to offer comfort. Shadepaw keeps comparing himself to Windfur. Why couldn't Blackpaw visit him in his dreams? What did Windfur have that he didn't?
Windfur is glad to have a friend like Morningspot. He appreciates their herb patrols together - neither of them talk much, but they value each others' presence.
Cottonheart brings Perchwatcher some food, hoping that she remembered what her favorite was. She blushes when she sees her happy. Perchwatcher appreciates Cottonheart's friendship.
Barleywave asks Owlpaw how she's doing. Daffodilpaw notices this from the other side of camp. She thinks Barleywave pays more attention to Owlpaw than she does to her.
Tree lets Ghostkit play with their tail, being careful to face away and cover their face with moss. Brackenfreckle shoos Ghostkit out of the medicine den when she notices.
In a moment of vulnerability while looking at the aurora in the sky, Cloudthunder opens up to Tree about her worries for the future. Tree feels the same - and yet promises to fight to protect the Clan - and her. Suddenly, all at once, words spill out and keep spilling out, and by the end of the evening, they've agreed to become mates.
Cloudthunder lived for beautiful moments like these.
As the sun set on the horizon and the leafbare chill fell on the forest, the night sky lit up with stars, and the glow of the sunset was replaced with a different kind of light. Gentle, pale green waves beamed down towards the horizon, and rippled softly over the treetops. It was faint - but it was beautiful nevertheless; a rare sight that inspired awe in the entire camp. Iciclepool and Hopechase's kits squealed with excitement at the shifting ripples of color, and yearlings like Perchwatcher, Branchsnarl and Brackenfreckle stared up with awe like they were young apprentices. Even Redstar, who had been gloomy for most of the month, found herself sitting in camp and staring above with subtle wonder. Cloudthunder had seen the sky do this before, when she was an apprentice. It was one of the few memories she still held onto fondly from Lakestar's leadership.
And now, here she was, experiencing it again with three adult children, a thriving Clan, and the freedom of movement. She could have gone anywhere, but today she was in camp, and she was happy.
ForestClan admired the sky for a few hours, and told stories. It was StarClan gathering together to show their joy and parade through the night. Or the tails of foxes that were chased out of the territory by fire, the triumph of ancestors immortalized in the sky. Olive spoke of Twolegs admiring these lights too, holding up cubic and rectangular objects up to their faces, pointed towards the sky. Sometimes they placed them on three-legged stands and left them overnight. A bizarre ritual. A few cats pondered or laughed about it. Eventually, cats grew weary, and retired to their dens one by one.
Then, Cloudthunder was alone. She sat near the dying cinders of the fire, promising Clanmates to extinguish it and empty the ashes before retiring to bed. Instead, she kept the glowing cinders company, reluctant to go to bed.
She tried to push down her sudden influx of worries. No, not anxiety, or dread. She's felt those before and by StarClan, she was never going to feel that again. She had zero interest in feeling trapped and paranoid under an evil gaze again. No, instead, she thought of her Clan, and her children.
Before her mind could wander too far, her ear twitched at the sound of footsteps in the snow. She turned, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw Tree approaching her.
"Tree," she meowed.
"Cloudthunder," Tree greeted. Their voice rasped in the cold. Cloudthunder frowned with concern.
"You're still sick with yellowcough. You should be in bed."
"Shiverstep said I'm recovering. I should be better in another week or two," Tree replied. They sat down by the fire across from Cloudthunder, and stared up at the sky. A smile cracked across their tired face. "I wanted to admire the sky more. Couldn't sleep anyway."
Cloudthunder purred softly, also staring up at the sky. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"It really is something special," Tree admitted with a smile. "I think...I've only seen this once before, as a kit. I remember staring up at it for such a long time that my neck hurt afterwards."
Cloudthunder let out a mrrow of amusement. "Oh no, that must've hurt in the morning."
"It did. But it was very worth it, I think. It's not often you see these. We won't know when we'll see them again."
Cloudthunder nodded and added a mrrow of approval.
Tree paused, before letting out a cough and a sniffle. They groaned in annoyance.
"Would you like tea or anything? I could boil water," Cloudthunder offered.
"It's alright. Thank you, though. You spoil me," Tree replied with a sparkle in their eyes. Cloudthunder couldn't help but feel heat rise to her face, she sheepishly looked away and failed to stop a smile spreading across her face.
It was extremely unfortunate that Deerspring was right - she did like Tree a lot. And before being confronted with that, she had no trouble just having fun with a flirty back and forth with the cat. She never intended for it to be anything that deep - or at least that's what she kept telling herself - and now that she had to admit that she was a terrible liar, she wasn't sure what to say.
Should she even say anything, given the world they live in?
The worry that gnawed at her chest earlier returned. She stared at the aurora above, hoping that it would clear her thoughts. Instead, a cold breeze picked up, and she was reminded of the night she went into labour last leaf-bare.
She tried to pretend everything was going to be fine and that she didn't care if the Living Tendrils came. It was a fact of life, kits would die, and she'd be sad, yes, but she would get over it. It was an accident, after all.
That was a mistake.
And as moons went by and Redstar failed to die, and young cats like Blackpaw were snatched up by the woods, the fears for her own children increased. She bottled them up. Pretended everything was going to be fine and they could take steps to prevent death. But there were stranger outsiders that hated them and wanted them dead, wanted her children dead, and every day that passed she mentally prepared for the next Ritual of the Lost she would have to participate in, praying that it wasn't for her children.
"Cloudthunder?"
"Hm?" The molly glanced at Tree.
Concern veiled the cat's expression thinly. Tree tapped their tail once. "...You seem lost in thought. Anything on your mind?"
Well, yes, but I would rather not, Cloudthunder thought to herself. She looked back up at the sky. "Nothing in particular."
Tree's whiskers twitched and they sniffled once. "...Did you feel like sharing?"
Oh good, she was terrible at hiding mousedung. Cloudthunder sighed. "Am I really that obvious?"
Tree let out an amused huff, then twitched their tail and gestured dramatically, "Your eyes are as vibrant as sunshine, fair molly! To bask near them is a privilege."
Cloudthunder laughed. "Oh, quiet, you!" she hissed, swatting a pile of dusty snow in their direction. Tree shielded their face and smirked, returning the gesture. Cloudthunder sputtered as snow hit her face, shaking herself out.
"Hey! No fair, you have bigger paws," Cloudthunder protested as she got up and approached them with a mischievous look. Tree shielded their face with their paws and let out a laugh.
"Hey, no - " Tree coughed, " - no attacking the sick!"
"Oh, you're getting better, get over it," Cloudthunder smirked as she batted snow more directly towards them. Tree was pelted and let out a fake dramatic wail, rolling on their back.
"Ooof, oh no, I'm being attacked! How dare you attack the sick and elderly? Oh, the atrocity!" Tree's voice turned into a rasp, then a series of coughs. Cloudthunder's amusement stopped, and her tail drooped.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah - " Tree coughed, "yeah, I'm good, just - " More coughing. Tree sat back up and Cloudthunder took a few steps back, her ears folding.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trigger it," she mewed.
Tree finished their coughing streak by clearing their throat and sniffling. "Ah, stars - sorry. I swear I'm getting better. That just came out of nowhere."
"Maybe you should get some rest?"
Tree's emerald green eyes flickered, and they paused, lost in thought. Their tail swept the snow beneath them. Finally, they turned to look at Cloudthunder, and the molly fought against looking away.
"Only if you do."
Cloudthunder let out a chuckle. "Not sure if I can right now."
"Then tell me about it. Then we might both get some sleep."
Cloudthunder looked away. Tree slowly sat down beside her, angled away in case they started coughing again. After a few moments of silence, Tree prompted gently, "I have time. I'm here to listen."
Cloudthunder's heart tightened. She sat down, staring at the snow blankly as she organized her thoughts. Did she want to talk about this with Tree? Would they even understand her worries? Tree had spent more time as an outsider than a warrior of ForestClan. She assumed that they never had kits of their own. Would they be able to empathize with her at all? Was this too heavy to drop on a cat all of a sudden? Tree was still sick. They should be resting, not listening to her really bummer venting.
"...You don't have to, Tree. I'm just overthinking things," she said.
Tree's ear twitched. They tensed. "...I'm here to listen," they repeated.
"I know, and I appreciate it, but - " Cloudthunder cut her words short when she glanced up at them, and saw Tree glancing back at them. Their eyes carried an intensity she hadn't seen before - fear, she dared to wonder? - and Cloudthunder couldn't bring herself to walk away from them. She blinked once, then sighed deeply. She looked towards the sky again, relying on the soothing ripples of light to keep her emotions steady.
"...I worry for the future. For my kits," she began. "I know it's pointless to worry. If the woods come, there's very little that I can do to stop them. I should enjoy the time I have with them now, as much as I can. I could never abandon ForestClan - it's my home. The land is so beautiful. The view of the mountain, the lake, the field and forest - you can't get that anywhere else. It's our home, not the home of Woodcrawlers. But..." Cloudthunder's copper eyes flickered. She tucked her tail around her paws. "...Sometimes, I get scared. I just want to...put my kits on the back of some Twoleg monster, and let the monster drive far away to who-knows-where. I'd never see them again. But they'd be alive. And...and I wouldn't have to hold a Ritual of the Lost for them someday, like I did with Bearkit and Magnoliakit." Cloudthunder scoffed as she felt her voice cracking. Shame rippled through her pelt. She laughed at herself. Oh, this was stupid. This was a mistake. Validating that fear out loud was a terrible plan. Great StarClan, she was turning into Iciclepool. "It's...it's a ridiculous thought, I know. But...I don't want to lose them."
There was a tense silence that followed. Cloudthunder refused to say or think anything else. She was terrified of looking like her mother when she was a kit, sitting at the walls of camp and sobbing into the night, begging for her own mama to return from the ether. She refused to look that vulnerable to anyone.
"...I understand."
Cloudthunder side-eyed them. Tree scowled.
"No, really. I do. And I don't think that's wrong to think that."
Cloudthunder chuckled dryly. "Ah, yes. I'm sure Redstar and Iciclepool will take thoughts of leaving the territory well."
"Why is that a bad thing?"
She tensed. "It just is, Tree. ForestClan has tried it before. Search parties never returned alive."
Pause.
"Did you find evidence of their death?"
She said nothing.
Tree looked away, then sniffled. Their voice rasped. "Look. I get it. It's hard. And...I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have my own doubts about staying in ForestClan at first. Learning about the Living Tendrils, and your history of apprentice trials - I was concerned. For the first moon, I thought you might be cats trapping yourselves voluntarily here. But then I learned about your culture. Your history with other Clans that used to exist. Your - " Tree suppressed a cough, " - hgn, sorry. Just...long story short, you fought for your right to be here. And you've built incredible things - methods I've only seen out of Twolegs before - in that determination to stay. Even so," Tree's eyes flickered, "that doesn't mean we don't hope for a better future, one far away from here without fear."
Cloudthunder met their gaze evenly. "It's not just for my kits. It's for...for every kit. Daffodilpaw and Owlpaw. Shadepaw and Nectarpaw. Cats I care for," Cloudthunder meowed. "I just..." She looked away. "...I've buried enough mementos and empty graves. I've seen too many cats and apprentices die. I thought I was numb to it after Lakestar's leadership, but after Blackpaw..."
"...Do you want to leave?"
"No," Cloudthunder said immediately. "I...I couldn't. This is our home. I just...I wish I could...I don't know, grab the hypothetical 'safe place' from wherever it is, and drag it over here instead. Even if it has to be kicking and screaming, I want to make it free of whatever mockeries are out there."
"...Then, I'll fight it make it a place like that."
The resolution of that sentence surprised her. Cloudthunder met Tree's gaze, and found herself unable to tear away from the determination in their eyes.
"That's how we'll make it a better place. And we can do it. For as long as I still live, I will fight. I'll tear off Woodcrawler legs. I'll tear the limbs off Tendrils. I'll burn whatever Nature's Mockery and den entrance I find."
"Don't." Cloudthunder bristled, a surge of panic rushing through her. "Please don't."
"Why not?" Tree pressed.
The white and grey molly sputtered. "You'll get hurt. It's dangerous. I don't..."
She trailed off. Tree didn't prompt her for an answer, but as Cloudthunder stared into Tree's eyes, and she felt resounding terror at the idea of a patrol coming back and telling them that Tree had saved their lives, that they were brave, and courageous, and gone -
"I don't want to lose you too."
Speaking it made it reality. Heart thundering. Every joke, every time she made them laugh, every time they shared a meal and told a story, every time they explored the territory beyond its normal bounds, just for fun, just because they could. She would lose this. Lose them. And she couldn't do it. She loved them. She loved their friendship, their jabs and jokes, their passing flirts and the smiles they gave. She loved their intensity in the face of protecting those they loved, she...oh stars, she did love them, and every attempt to shove it down in a hole and pretend it didn't exist failed.
Tree kept their determined gaze, and then, a flicker of affection danced across their face. "You won't lose me."
Cloudthunder's ears folded back. "You can't promise that," she retorted.
"No, silly, not like that. I'm not immortal," Tree chuckled. Then, they slowly brushed their tail across Cloudthunder's back. "You won't lose me, because I'll do all those things with you, and with the Clan. We'll make it better for everyone together. You won't lose me, because I have you to come back alive for."
Her heart stopped and her face turned hot. Her fur bristled as she suddenly felt the urge to zoom out of camp and scream like a flock of common sparrows at dawn. Oh stars, what was she, eight moons old? She stuttered and looked away, embarrassed and too overtaken with feeling all at once. Tree made a raspy mrrow.
"Sorry. Too much?"
"No," Cloudthunder sputtered. She entwined her tail with theirs suddenly, afraid they'd pull back. "No. It's okay. I..." Despite the worries that still plagued her, a smile spread across her face. "...I just didn't think I meant that much to you."
"Now, hold on a second," Tree's throat rasped, but Cloudthunder knew it would be a loud protest if they could've managed it. "What do you think we've been doing for the past few moons? I thought my feelings were obvious."
"W-Wait, you weren't playing around?" Cloudthunder asked sheepishly, head bowed. Tree initially looked hurt, until they saw the wide-eyed pleading look in the molly's eyes, and they burst out laughing. Then devolved into a series of coughs that they turned away to sort out.
"Oh stars, sorry," Tree finally managed after clearing their throat. "I'm so sorry, that was adorable. Yes, of course I was serious, Cloud. Does ForestClan not understand how courting works at all?"
"Y-Yes, we understand courting! I just didn't know that's what we were doing," Cloudthunder admitted, looking away with embarrassment.
"Why?" There was a pause for a moment, until Tree's fur bristled and they looked away nervously. "...I, ah, I guess I'm not the best choice of a partner."
Cloudthunder's eyes widened to the size of plates. Her brain sputtered, "What?"
Tree hid their self-deprecation under the veneer of humor. "Well, I mean...if it wasn't obvious already, I can't sire anything. And if that was something that mattered to you, well, that's unfortunate."
Cloudthunder scowled. "Tree, do you think that matters to me at all?"
"...Does it?"
"No, mousebrain!" Cloudthunder shoved them playfully. "If hearing me talk for the past ten minutes wasn't clear enough, I'm already worrying about one litter. I don't want more. You're perfect. Please don't ever doubt that."
"You do understand that if I wasn't sick right now, I'd be pressing my head all over you, right?" Tree said with a smirk.
"Do you want me to bat you with snow again?"
"No thank you," Tree purred. "...But, I do mean it, Cloud. I keep you in my heart, like you keep your family and friends in yours. I dunno how ForestClan does it, for non-Clan cats it just kinda...happens," Tree shrugged, then meowed, "do I have to, uh, ask if you'd like to be my mate? Seems weirdly formal, but I mean..."
And for a brief moment, Cloudthunder's worries melted away. Whatever worry she had about the future, about others, about her kits - maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. Tree was by her side. Tree would fight to stay by her side. They promised to. And maybe tonight, until the light of rippling green waves in the sky, that was all they needed. Right now, things were okay. Right now, things were good. Right now, she was happy.
Cloudthunder squeezed her tail around Tree's tightly, then looked into their eyes, the green light from above bouncing off of their gaze gently. They were beautiful. She hoped they knew that they were beautiful, and she loved them.
"Of course I'll be your mate, Tree," she meowed softly. "I love you. I want you to know that above all else."
Tree's eyes narrowed with joy, their entire body purring. "I love you too, Cloud."
Here is my high-effort shitpost submission for Week 1 of the August event over at @cccdiscord!
The prompt was to depict the cats figuring out their traveling situation to the resort. Iciclepool and Hopechase's kits, like all children, get rowdy and impatient on the plane ride over and the two parents are begging for them to behave lmao
Featuring also Owlpaw and Daffodilpaw jamming to a shared iPod or whatever, Riftgorse annoying Brackenfreckle w/ Morningspot looking sympathetic, and Redstar being completely conked out asleep for the entire ride there
Shiverstep catches greencough. She isolates herself at the back of the den, not wanting anyone else to catch it. Airpaw does something thoughtful for her.
Iciclepool has had enough time to cope with her stress, and is no longer Afflicted. She and Hopechase go on an early dawn patrol to watch the sun rise.
"I mean, sure, Branchsnarl. I'm always happy to bring you hunting, but you don't have to hunt with me anymore. You're a full grown warrior now," Tree said with a smile.
"Yeah. I know." Branchsnarl said this while staring into space. She…she did not know how to handle this. Her entire body was tense, and Tree noticed it immediately. They gave a quizzical look, until it faded, turning into something else. Tree paused, then waved their tail almost too casually.
"Well, let's head out, then. Shall we?"
Branchsnarl nodded.
The leaf-fall was still warm, but the leaves began to dapple with orange speckles. Branchsnarl recognized the shifting colors from her kithood. Thinking about her…his…her youth caused unease to ball in her chest.
The more he…she…the more Branchsnarl thought about her younger…his…about Branchkit upset…them.
Fear. Relief. Fear.
"Branchsnarl?"
The young warrior tore their gaze from the leaves above and back to Tree. The both of them had walked over to the Glimpse Clearing. That…that surprised Branchsnarl, actually. That was fast. How fast had they been walking? Why was her…heart racing? Tree placed themselves in front of their former apprentice, wrapping their tail around their paws. Their emerald green eyes flickered with veiled concern.
"Hey, buddy," Tree meowed gently. "Your fur has been on end since we've left camp."
Branchsnarl blinked, then forced a laugh. "Have I?"
"Yeah. Yeah you have." Tree blinked slowly. "...You didn't actually want to hunt, did you?"
"...No."
"So…what's up?"
Branchsnarl started at…his…his former mentor.
Then panicked.
Branchsnarl felt his body scream to run and freeze all at once. Inside. The danger was inside. Can't run. Can't run from inside. Can't escape the inside. Can't fight. Don't want to fight it. Truth. Scathing, thorny, sharp, jagged, complicated truth. It hurt. But it was honest, true, liberating. Freedom. But she was scared. She thought of her HIS mother, sister, clanmates - would they accept him? Would they understand? Would they be disappointed? Would they expect her HIM to still do things a molly would do, she - HE, HE, HIS, HIM -
Body and mind found hope, clarity, safety, in the one cat who existed outside of every other binary that had ever existed in Branchsnarl's life. Maybe that's why he knew. He knew to ask. To talk.
"Tree?"
Tree was startled by the mere squeak that came out of the spotted cat. "Branch? What's wrong?" Tree stood up, a bit more concerned now that their former apprentice seemed distressed.
"Tree, I think I'm having a panic attack and I don't know what to do, and I can't ask my mom for help, because I don't know how to explain it, because I don't know how to explain that I don't think I'm a molly - " Branchsnarl's words became less and less coherent until they failed him entirely, cutting off into a confused, heavy sobbing. "I just - I don't - I wanna be a tom, and I just don't know what to do!"
Tree inched back a bit in shock, surprised by the sudden breakdown, but then everything fell into place. Their bristling pelt flattened. Their eyes softened and they approached Branchsnarl, pulling him into an embrace and letting out a continuous, comforting purr as the newly-found tom blubbered into his former mentor's shoulder.
"I don't know what to do," Branchsnarl repeated, sobbing. "M-Mom a-always said that she was proud of her daughters and - and happy that we've grown into such fine mollies and it just, it makes me feel just - "
"Wrong?" Tree finished.
The young tom's lips curled into a pained snarl, ears folding back. "I want - I wanted to be like Windfur, like Barleywave, and Riftgorse - and I just - " Great StarClan, he felt so pathetic. So mousebrained. Branchsnarl's words came out muffled and nearly unintelligible. "I feel like - like the Clan will just never look at me like they do with them, I'm scared of not being…of not…of not being a tom to them, to my mom, to Perchpaw, and I just - "
"Hey. Hey, kid, slow down," Tree interjected softly, pulling away. Tree genuinely couldn't understand Branchsnarl's blubbering. Tree's green eyes were firm, but still filled with understanding and wisdom - a familiar pain, scarred over. "You're panicking right now because this is all new. Take deep breaths. You gotta stay calm."
Branchsnarl trembled as he forced himself to inhale deep, trembling breaths. His mother taught him how to do that.
…His mother…oh, stars, he was so scared. Olive wasn't - she wasn't mean or anything, but he still had vague memories of her sobbing in the middle of the night, trapped in a hardened cast. He remembered for a while not having a name. It was such a brief time, but she seemed so miserable after…
Branchsnarl felt resentment boil for Owlkit. It was not their fault that Warblerkit was dead. It was not their fault.
But sometimes he was so scared that Olive thought so. Irrational, worming thoughts that wouldn't go away. She didn't name them for almost three moons. She got better, and apologized and all, but…but what if she felt like she was losing a daughter again? What if she hated him for killing her she-kit? What if -
"Hey. Branchsnarl, focus," Tree spoke, placing their tail on his shoulder. Branchsnarl looked up at them with wide eyes, and forced himself to take a deep breath. Breathe. Breathe. Tree's emerald green eyes flickered. "It's going to be okay. I'm here for you, and I get it. I've been where you are. Deep breaths."
Time passed as Branchsnarl forced himself to breathe deeply, taking in the gentle wind and the earthy pine smell. Songbirds chirped. Leaves rustled in the breeze. The sun was warm. The earth was dry.
After a time that seemed like many seasons, his heart slowed down, yet still ached with every beat. Tree blinked, then tilted their head. "It sounds like you've had this on your mind for a while."
Branchsnarl hiccuped, staring at the ground with shame. "Yeah…"
"How long have you known?"
Branchsnarl blinked. He looked up at Tree dumbly, as though confused by the question.
"I…how long?" he echoed.
"Yeah. When did you start thinking you may be a tom?"
Branchsnarl blinked. Trying to recall the thousands of times that he kept thinking to himself how cool it would be if he was born a tom instead. Somehow, never actually really clicking with that being an actual option, and now, thinking maybe he was too late to start, too late to change and look different, be accepted…
Tree raised an eyebrow, still waiting.
"...I…I don't know. A while? But I didn't…I didn't know it was an option," he answered.
At this, Tree sighed and threw their head back in exasperation. "Branchsnarl, seriously? Come on, I, a non-binary cat, was your mentor for six moons!" Tree finished with a laugh.
"Well I knew being nothing or…or a third option was a thing!" Branchsnarl protested, his ears turning hot as he thrashed his tail. "I just didn't know I could be - you know, the reverse option!"
"That…I don't think genders are opposites or anything - actually, nevermind," Tree took a deep breath and raised their paw, seemingly stopping themselves from going on a tangent. "So, you've been wanting to be a tom for a while, then. So, now that you realize that you can be," Tree's tail swished, dragging dried leaves and dirt, "you're afraid."
"Yeah," Branchsnarl mumbled, feeling his claws itch the ground anxiously.
"Well, I accept you. So no matter what, you have a supporter here." Tree meowed, offering a reassuring purr. "But, what's the root cause of the fear?"
Branchsnarl felt like ants were crawling up his legs. Great StarClan, no, he couldn't live like this. Trapped as a molly. He couldn't, but he was so, so scared of how Olive would react. And Perchpaw. Perchpaw had only ever known him as her sister and -
"Hey. Branch, focus, use your words," Tree flicked their tail in front of his line of sight, and Branchsnarl jolted, startled.Â
"R-Right, right, sorry, I…I'm scared of…of being stuck."
"Okay. Anything else?"
"I'm scared of…of my family's reaction. And…I'm scared the Clan won't accept me," he whimpered.Â
Tree nodded. "Anything else?"
Branchsnarl paused, trying to rearrange his thoughts in order. Yep. He was…he was scared of his family and the Clan not accepting him as a tom, and he's scared of being stuck as a molly. That was…that was it? "No…nothing else. That's…that's it."
"Okay, good. Well, first of all, you're not gonna be stuck as a molly. You have a couple of nice clerics and healers who know how to look after transitioning cats. Heck, they've helped me ever since I joined the Clan," Tree's tail twitched and their eyes beamed. "I've been taking lemonweed to mask my scent for ages."
"B-But what if it doesn't work?"
Tree paused at this question. Branchsnarl felt discomfort rise in his chest as Tree's expression seemed pensive - maybe they knew someone for who lemonweed didn't work? Maybe -
His thoughts were cut short. "Hey Branchsnarl, question for you."
"Y-Yeah?"
"What gender do you assume I was born with?"
Branchsnarl recoiled a bit, ears folding back, eyes wide. "Uh, that's - I mean, that's a bit invasive, isn't it?"
"Normally, yes. But hypothetically, do you think I was born able to sire, or dam?"
"I dunno! Tree, this is a weird question," Branchsnarl winced. He didn't want to think about Tree's reproductives.
"Well, look at my pelt," Tree invited, turning to their side. They flicked their ear, looking at their golden tabby patches splotched on their sides. "Anyone ever told you how a cat's colors work?"
Branchsnarl's tail twitched in irritation. Oh great, what was he, an apprentice again? "I mean, yeah. A cat can be any color, but for some reason, tortoiseshells and calicos were more likely to be mollies - "
Click.
Branchsnarl's tail thunked against the floor and his eyes widened. He blinked twice, then darted his gaze between Tree's tortoiseshell pelt, then Tree's face.
Tree's face became progressively more and more amused the longer time passed, and Branchsnarl felt his skin turn hot.
Oh stars. Lemonweed worked. It really did. Even with fur as clearly molly-coded as Tree's, nobody cared. Tree was always referred to as a cat, using they and them pronouns. Their scent wasn't only totally gone - ForestClan just accepted Tree. Despite seeing that Tree was likely born able to dam, Tree was just…just like him. Born as something they weren't. And ForestClan never misgendered them or saw them as anything other than just an ordinary cat who chose their own path. For Branchsnarl's entire life, ever since his kithood, Tree was always just themselves, and nobody ever questioned it. Ever.
"...ForestClan will accept me," Branchsnarl meowed, his voice small.
"And there you have it," Tree chuckled. They let out a yawn against the warm sunshine, before doing a once-over of their environment. Then, they lay down and tucked their paws underneath them. "The Clan will accept you as you are, and I promise lemonweed works. The medicine cats will probably give you some different herbs to give you tom-scent too, but I was an adult when I figured out my identity, and even then, treatment got me where I am now. You're young - you'll adapt just fine."
A heavy stone rolled off of Branchsnarl's shoulders, no longer burdened by its weight. He felt air enter his lungs more easily, and for a brief moment, he closed his eyes and allowed the sunshine to bathe against his pelt. Cloudthunder, Redstar, Hopechase, Iciclepool, the medicine cats - they would accept him. Call him by his name with new meaning.
…But…
Branchsnarl opened his eyes, and the second stone grew in size to replace the weight the other bore. Olive and Perchpaw. Out of everyone, he wanted them to still…still love him. A voice tried to buzz through his intrusive thoughts, like a small, tender bumblebee, navigating around a blooming flower.
They accept Tree. They'll accept you too. You're still you. You're just a tom, you realized.
But what if they don't? What if…what if Olive is sad that she lost a daughter? What if Perchpaw doesn't want a brother?
Tree seemed to notice the poor tom lost in thought again. They blinked slowly at him in reassurance. "You're going to be okay," they repeated.
"...I mean…I guess, but…" Branchsnarl started grooming his arm. "...What about…my family?"
"What about them?"
"What if they don't accept me?"
"Well, first of all, yes they will. But, if they don't, what are you going to do? Go back to being a molly?"
"No." Branchsnarl stopped grooming, his fur bristling. "No. I just…it doesn't work. I don't feel right otherwise. I'd be miserable. But…I just want them to still…" He trailed off. His heart sunk. He fought to stop the image of disappointed pairs of eyes staring at him.
Tree stretched their paws out, briefly raking the forest floor. Then, they got up. "Well, if they don't accept you, I'm adopting you."
Branchsnarl scrambled to his feet in bewilderment "Eh - what?!"
"Yeah, screw it. I'll do it," Tree chuckled, tail twitching. "They'd be missing out on a relationship with a real great tom."
Joy bloomed through his entire body. Tom. Someone called him a tom. Stars, he felt happy. Right. This was right.
"But, going to be honest, Branchsnarl, I'm pretty sure your mother and sister won't mind one bit. In fact, I'm so convinced that I'm willing to help you tell them, if you're ready for that step."
Branchsnarl felt his heart stop. Anxiety rose in his whole body again. "A-Are you sure?"
"Only if you are. You can keep it between us for now, or you can go public. Whatever makes you feel safest and most comfortable."
"I…I don't want to go back to being called 'she'. I don't know if I can stand one more day without being known."
Tree's tail twitched, and a surge of confidence came through their posture. "Then come on, let's practice. I know Olive well enough to know she'll always love you. But it can still be nerve wracking to reintroduce yourself, so let's hash this out…"
----
Branchsnarl realizes that she-cat doesn't describe him anymore. He re-introduces himself to his mother, Olive, and his littermate Perchpaw, with some help from Tree. Both are happy that he feels safe and comfortable enough to tell them this.
Tree was absolutely sure everything would be just fine. But, that's a hard sell to a newly-found tom, and they didn't really blame him. Tree was put in a similar position before - having to tell their father that they were not the cat they thought they knew. But what made things easier was the resolve to transition regardless of their reaction - because being true to themselves was more important than lying to keep a conditional love.
But in this case? Tree knew that Olive and Perchpaw would just be happy that Branchsnarl was happy.
In fact, they were so sure of this that they helped Branchsnarl dress up a bit.
"Okay, hold still," Tree mumbled as they combed Branchsnarl's cheek tufts out a bit more.
Branchsnarl was halfway between terrified and happy, his whiskers twitching. "D-Does it look good?"
"Real talk, Barleywave might be able to help you more with this, given that he has shorter hair like yours. But this does make your face look rounder, and you look very handsome."
Branchsnarl's tail shot high, flicking excitedly. Tree suppressed a snicker. In truth, they were only repeating what they wished others had told them when they were initially transitioning. They were glad that Branchsnarl seemed to appreciate it.
"Now. Did you tell them to come to the Glimpse clearing?"
Branchsnarl's tail slowly lowered, nervousness returning to him. "Uh…yeah."
"Cool. You remember how we rehearsed this?"
"Y-Yeah. I…I remember," Branchsnarl stammered.
"Good. And hey, look at me." Branchsnarl looked up. Tree gave a grin. "You'll be okay, man. Promise."
Branchsnarl sniffed, eyeing the floor awkwardly. Tree could only hope that their pep-talk was enough for the tom to hold it together. Tree tasted the air and sensed Olive and Perchpaw approaching from down the hill. They flicked their tail, and Branchsnarl dived into the foliage nearby.
As Perchpaw and Olive finally came face to face with Tree, the two mollies seemed wary. Perchpaw's ear twitched, clearly aware of Branchsnarl's scent nearby.
"Thank you for coming," Tree meowed, dipping their head. Olive's ear twitched, her sage green eyes flickering with apprehension.
Tree's whiskers twitched, then gestured to the bushes. "I'm here to introduce you to someone." The tortoiseshell looked towards Branchsnarl and nodded.
After a few, long moments, Branchsnarl creeped out from the foliage, eyes glued onto the floor. He sat next to Tree, refusing to meet Olive and Perchpaw's piercing gaze.
Branchsnarl swallowed, and finally spoke.
"Um…ahem…h-hi," Branchsnarl made an exaggerated first attempt at shifting his voice pitch. "M-Mom, Perchpaw, I…uh…I need to tell you something important."
Tree remained calm, even as Olive and Perchpaw seemed more and more tense.
"...What's wrong, Branchsnarl?" Olive asked. Her voice was calm, but her stiff posture spoke otherwise. Tree wished that they could reassure her, but this had to be something Branchsnarl did.
Branchsnarl shuffled, his mouth hanging open. Branchsnarl's pelt bristled, but after a few seconds, he sighed, then lifted his head to look at his family for the first time since they had arrived.
"I…I'm a tom."
The strained air between the family snapped and fell almost immediately, Olive's posture visibly shrinking, and Perchpaw releasing the breath she was holding, her blue eyes twinkling quizzically. Tree smiled, their whiskers twitching. They knew it - Olive and Perchpaw had no issues with this.
Branchsnarl did not read the room. He kept rambling. "I-I know that's a huge change, I get if you're confused, or - or sad, or upset, I know you've always seen me as - as a sister, or a daughter, but it's not…it's not right and I don't feel like myself when I'm called that. But the idea of being a tom - it's just right, like everything makes sense, and I just hope t-that you still - " his voice got faster and faster, until Olive cut him off with a laugh, approaching her newfound son and pressing her forehead against his. Branchsnarl's eyes widened with dismay.
Olive let out a sigh of relief and began purring. "Oh, thank goodness. I thought you wanted to leave."
Branchsnarl blinked twice rapidly. "...What?"
"I mean, it'll be weird to call you brother instead for a little bit, and I'm sorry if I mess up pronouns by accident," Perchpaw chirped, joining her mother in pressing her head against her brother's. Her tail was raised high. "But honestly, if that makes you happy, then I'm glad you discovered that about you."
Branchsnarl still blinked, dazed. He seemed lightheaded. "I…wha…wait," he uttered between breaths. "You still love me?"
Immediately, Perchpaw and Olive pulled back, exclaiming "What?!" simultaneously.
"What in StarClan are you talking about?!" Perchpaw retorted.
"Of course I still love you! You're my kit," Olive interjected with a furrowed brow, batting a paw at his ear. "By the stars, you really are a tom, you assume things instead of talking about it."
"MOM!" Branchsnarl hissed in protest.
"We were scared that you wanted to leave ForestClan! That would hurt more, honestly," Perchpaw said, tail twitching.
"What? Why would I ever want to leave?"
"Well, you were acting off and a little distant from everyone and hiding in your den more often since your warrior ceremony, and when we saw Tree here, a cat who likely knew the lay of the land…"
Branchsnarl's green eyes progressively widened as Perchpaw spoke. "No! StarClan, no! Never! I…I was scared that you wouldn't accept me," he finished with a squeak.
Olive bristled, her ears folding back sadly. "Branchsnarl, no. I could never reject my kit simply for finding their true self." A shred of vulnerability cut through the older molly's visage, pained by memory. "After everything that has happened - I couldn't bear to lose another child. I will love you, both of you, no matter what paths you choose to take."
The air turned cold with sorrow.
Tree felt their stomach turn to stone, but they were not surprised. Branchsnarl and Perchpaw were kits when Tree had joined ForestClan.
They knew that Olive suffered tremendously during childbirth. They heard about Warblerkit, and heard of the horrible storm that struck. Olive had struggled in her grief, but ultimately, learned to cherish what she had.
Branchsnarl blinked, stunned by this revelation. Then, he sobbed, and pressed himself in between his family, relieved and filled with love, purring all the while.
"Thank you," he whimpered. The two mollies pressed themselves against the young tom and purred in a chorus of comfort. Tree let out a brief purr, then stood up and placed a brief paw on Branchsnarl's shoulder, before making their way back up towards camp.
Their job here was done. Although, to be honest, they didn't even do anything. But, they knew as well as anyone that sometimes, someone being there to help make difficult announcements was all that was needed.
---
Branchsnarl went public with his identity, to communal acceptance. Branchsnarl was bewildered when cats like Hopechase and Redstar were not surprised at all.
