What Owlpaw says to Flametangle is a reference so subtle that I doubt anyone will get it, so here's the source (link to a specific part of a youtube video).
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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."
The morning sun was wonderful, sinking into Almondfern's pelt as he lay in the clearing, welcomed with the leaf-bare weather. He flicked his tail again, watching as Mulberrykit chased after it, Branchkit and Hazelkit clambering on top of him. It was the first truly relaxing day Almondfern had had in a while, truth be told.
He loved playing with the kits, especially the younger ones, giving Stoneleaf, Wasp, and Lester much-needed breaks. Almondfern always felt it was a shame that the cats closest to him in age were his sisters. And he had never felt anything toward Tulipscratch, aside from annoyance. He wanted kits, but he had no way to have them, so he settled with taking care of the ones in the clan right now. Though, he had to admit, Softflight, a Foggyclan she-cat he had met during his turns as firewatcher, was an interesting she-cat. Pretty, too, and he had enjoyed her company...
Almondfern shoved the thought away, flicking his tail away from Mulberrykit, making sure to let the kit catch it every now and then. No need to make him feel bad about his pouncing abilities, after all. He felt sharp little teeth needle through the fluff, but his fur was so long and thick that it wasn't really anything.
"Gentle, Mulberry." he chided all the same.
"Yurph my preph." Mulberrykit mumbled around his tail fluff.
"It's rude to use your teeth on other cats." Almondfern said sternly, and his tail was released.
"Sorry." Mulberrykit said, hanging his head.
"Just don't do it again, alright? Your mother and the other medicine cats don't need to see cats with kit bites." Almondfern said, purring to let the kit know he wasn't mad.
Hazelkit's paw slipped and went in his ear at that moment, but he just gently shifted the kit to the side. He could have played with the kits all day, to be honest, and he let them practice their pouncing and battle moves on him, the older kits no longer interested in him since they were so close to being apprentices. Unfortunately, it didn't last. After sun-high, the kits were getting cranky, in need of a nap, and Skypelt called him to patrol with Quietback, Aphidrise, Laurelbright, and Furledseed, the older warrior taking the lead.
They covered themselves in protection and Almondfern wanted to huff, because as much as he liked serving his clan, he had to put on many times more protection than the rest, and it took forever to come out of his fur.
But he followed the patrol all the same, not about to disobey, and they headed out far from camp. Border, at the moment, but they were planning to hunt on the way back. They headed toward the border of the unclaimed lands Foggyclan was up against as well, and Almondfern had to admit, he didn't mind patrolling with two of his sisters. He was rather quite fond of it, actually, even if the last patrol, Tulipscratch had fallen in the river. That had been an accident, after all, and you could never predict an accident.
There was a chill to the air today, but new-leaf, as warped as it was likely to be, was starting to peak through in the weather. Not in the growth, though. The rainfalls had taken care of that.
They patrolled the territory, but they were lucky. Few foxes and badgers settled on their territory, dogs were not common, and it had been some time since threatening rogues had been around. Weedclan still caused their usual trouble, but Foggyclan had always been respectful of them.
They patrolled thoroughly and Almondfern flicked his tail across Laurelbright's shoulder, nudging Furledseed, glad for their company. Furledseed rolled her eyes, but Laurelbright purred, and they continued on their way. They were not traveling all the way to the border, as a patrol to do that would have required setting out earlier in the day, but they were going a good distance toward it.
So far, everything was clear. Nothing of concern, and they would likely find prey on the way back.
As they walked, Almondfern found himself wanting to talk to Quietback, ask the older tom for advice on kits and mates, and if the clan would really be worried if he liked a cat for another clan, if he wanted a mate from another clan... But he wasn't sure how to bring it up. And maybe it was better to discuss with Goldstar.
He shook his head and held his tongue for now, and Quietback ordered them to spread out and scent the area at one point.
They obeyed, staying within yowling distance of each other, and Almondfern found a thick clump of growth worthy of green-leaf, wet with raindrops, obviously from a rainfall that had come and gone not too long ago.
He was about to go around it, not wanting to get his protection wet if he didn't have to, when he heard a faint sound. Stopping, he pricked his ears, and waited. He waited so long that, for a moment, he thought he had imagined it. Then he heard it again.
A pitiful mewling sound, like he had heard kits make when they were hungry or distressed, and his heart lurched.
He plunged into the ferns, searching carefully, and, in a hollow formed from the tangled roots of a bush, he found a kit.
No nest, no scent of another cat, just a tiny, shivering kit with a silvery, white-dappled pelt, its eyes and ears firmly shut. It let out that faint, pitiful sound, so faint Almondfern couldn't believe he had heard it, its tiny body shuddering with each breath.
"QUIETBACK! APHIDRISE! LAURELBRIGHT! FURLEDSEED!" he yowled, sliding into the cramped hollow.
The kit didn't make noise now, but they flailed at his presence, struggling to crawl to the warmth of his body. The others came running and found him, and Almondfern looked up.
"Abandoned. No nest, no scent..." he said quickly, his heart breaking.
"Go. Take it to camp, now!" Quietback ordered, and Almondfern didn't need to be told twice.
He picked up the little scrap of fur, as light as feather, and he ran as fast as he dared with his delicate passenger.
He had only run like this when they had been bringing fire to the Burning Caves, he thought, and he didn't let that slow him. The kit squeaked occasionally in his jaws and he ran and ran, right past Wiggity Wack, who was sitting guard outside the camp. He didn't stop until he reached the medicine cat den, nearly slamming into Jackdawnudge.
He skidded to a halt and placed the kit gently between his paws, his chest heaving.
"Jackdaw- the- kit- need-" he panted, struggling to breathe, struggling to speak.
Jackdawnudge didn't need him to explain, though. He picked up the tiny kit after ordering Lester to find Stoneleaf, and began to vigorously groom the little thing. Almonfern collapsed on the ground, catching his breath, and watched as Jackdawnudge groomed and rubbed the kit for all his was worth. Stoneleaf came into the den, sitting nearby, but she didn't move as Jackdawnudge worked.
Between licks and rubs, it soon became apparent that Jackdawnudge was speaking.
"Come on, you little scrap. Come on." he was saying, occasionally saying something else.
Lester took a turn when Jackdawnudge tired, and it seemed to take an eternity, but the kit was soon warmed up and squealing weakly.
"There you go, little one. There you go. Stoneleaf is goin' to feed you, don't you worry." Lester purred as Almondfern let out a sigh of relief.
He hovered as Stoneleaf settled in one of the empty patient nests, Morbius watching through half-closed eyes; the medicine cat kept her on low doses of poppy in hopes of keeping her calm and still enough for her spine to heal.
Stoneleaf nuzzled the kit to her swollen teats and it took several tries, but the kit soon latched and began to nurse.
"He's very weak." Stoneleaf said softly.
Almondfern swallowed hard.
"I want to keep him." he blurted out, and Jackdawnudge glanced at him.
"Don't go gettin' too attached, Almondfern. He might... He's not outta the woods yet." Lester warned gently.
"I want him." Almondfern repeated stubbornly.
He would nurse this kit back to health, he would protect them... Maybe it was because he and his sisters had been found and taken in by the clan, but he wanted to do what his mother had done for them. And it wasn't fair, for him to die just because he had been abandoned. It wasn't fair.
"Go wash up, and when you're dry, you can help me with him. Maybe come up with a name?" Stoneleaf said kindly, and Almondfern did just that.
He cleaned the protection from his fur and by this time, word of the kit had spread around the camp. Gillfeather came and helped him dry himself off, grooming his pelt just as she had when he had been a kit. When he was dry, he went back to the medicine cat den, finding Stoneleaf curled around the little kit.
She shifted in the roomy nest until there was room for both of them and they curled up with the kit together, Almondfern gently rasping his tongue over the kit. His whole body seemed to shudder with his breathing and when he flipped him over, Almondfern could see his heartbeat jumping through his tiny chest. He snuggled closer, knowing his fur held warmth; his sisters always crawled into his nest on cold nights.
"Do... Do you think he has a chance?" Almondfern asked Stoneleaf fearfully.
"I think he does. Amberleaf was a sickly little kit, and he pulled through. Starclan might not be ready for this little one just yet." Stoneleaf said soothingly.
They lay together, keeping the kit warm, and Almondfern pondered names for a while. Tried a few out and discarded them.
"Mistkit." he said eventually, drawing the kit to his belly.
"That's a lovely name. His fur is a misty gray, too." Stoneleaf said, purring.
Mistkit squeaked and lifted his head, snuffling blindly, and Almondfern nuzzled him gently until the squeaking calmed.
He sent a prayer to Starclan, hoping they would have mercy, hoping they would give him a miracle. Kits didn't deserve to die. He would do everything in his power to make sure Mistkit didn't. He hoped it would be enough, and he hoped Starclan was looking out for them.
His next few days revolved around the medicine cat den. Stoneleaf had the other kits to look after, of course, but Yellowlily moved into the nursery to keep an eye on them when she came and looked after Mistkit with him. The warriors brought Stoneleaf the best prey, though that wasn't new. She had been nursing kits almost non-stop for moons, and they wanted to make sure she had enough to eat, and enough milk.
Stoneleaf showed him how to care for Mistkit, how to clean him and groom him, and Almondfern found himself wishing he could produce milk. It would be much more convenient, honestly, and he felt bad whenever Mistkit tried to suckle from him. He was a hungry little thing, but he also had trouble suckling for long, Almondfern noticed. He just wasn't strong enough. He licked and rubbed the kit vigorously, stimulating him, keeping him warm and getting his blood flowing, keeping him tucked against his belly with his tail draped over him.
Almondfern knew he shouldn't have gotten attached, should have been cautious... But he fell in love with Mistkit from the first day. He talked to him even though his ears were sealed, telling him about the clan, and about the other kits there were for him to play with once he was strong enough.
Morbius watched from her nest, her eyes always poppy-glazed, but she asked Almondfern questions, and there was always at least one medicine cat present. On the morning of the fifth day after finding Mistkit, Almondfern woke shortly after dawn and shifted, yawning and then turning his attention to Mistkit. He leaned down to lick him and paused, realizing there was no little snuffling breaths, no squeaking, no fidgeting as his tongue rasped over the silky fur.
"Mistkit?" he said, his voice a whisper.
Stoneleaf stirred beside him and Almondfern nuzzled the kit, but he was still and cold.
"Mistkit?" His voice was louder now, thick with fear, and Almondfern didn't want to believe, he didn't...
His yowl pierced the silence of medicine cats' den and Stoneleaf shot up, the medicine cats shooting from their nests, Confetti, who had been sleeping with Morbius, leaping into the air and hissing.
"No, no, no... Please, Starclan, you can't... Grandpa! Grandpa!" Almondfern cried frantically, Jackdawnudge bounding over.
But there was nothing to be done. Mistkit had slipped away in his sleep, too weak, left too long by the time Almondfern had found him. His sobs chased Stoneleaf and Confetti away, and Plumsong tried to say something to him, but Almondfern ignored him. He curled around Mistkit's still body, his own shaking, his muzzle wet with tears.
Skypelt came and tried to take Mistkit from him, but Almondfern smacked his claws across her muzzle. He shocked himself, but Skypelt left, and Almondfern realized with a start that Amberleaf had been sitting nearby for some time.
He stared at Amberleaf for a long moment and Amberleaf stared back, saying nothing, just watching and waiting.
Eventually, Jackdawnudge came and settled down beside the nest.
"Almondfern, I know you loved that little kit. You took good care of him. But you need to let him go." he said gently and Almondfern shook his head.
"Why is Starclan so cruel?" he whispered, staring at his grandfather.
"This wasn't Starclan, Almond. We'll never know the truth, but you found no nest, no scent, and he was only a day or two old when you discovered him. This is the fault of the cat who left him to die. There was nothing you could have done other than what you did. You loved him and cared for him. That was more than he got from the cat who left him." Jackdawnudge said and Almondfern sniffed.
"I don't want to burn him." he croaked.
"You have to. You know that. Better than letting an Unseen get him." Jackdawnudge said.
He leaned forward and pressed his muzzle to Almondfern's cheek.
"Starclan will take care of him. It's just his body now. His spirit isn't there." he said and Almondfern swallowed.
He looked at the tiny, delicate body between his paws and his vision blurred.
"I'll take him." Amberleaf offered from where he was sitting.
"No. No, I... I'll do it." Almondfern whispered, because he had to.
He needed to. And he knew Jackdawnudge was right, and that he had to let him go. He did not have the luxury to sit here and mourn, especially when it was a few-day journey to the Burning Caves.
He forced himself to leave Mistkit's body and Gillfeather helped him coat himself in protection, licking his tear-soaked fur comfortingly.
"I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry." she murmured, nuzzling him.
She offered to go with him, but Almondfern shook his head. In the end, it was Amberleaf who went with him, and Almondfern slid on an herb-sling, Mistkit's body tucked into it. Lester added the herbs that had once been used, and coiled around him comfortingly.
Then they set off slightly together, and Almondfern had never been close to Amberleaf, but he was grateful for the other cat's company. He wasn't sure if he woud have been able to complete the journey on his own.
He had taken his turn as a firewatcher and enjoyed the work, but he had never taken a body himself. He had the sudden terrible thought that one day he would have to do this for Jackdawnudge, for his mother and her siblings, maybe even for his siblings... His chest tightened and he swallowed hard at the thought.
Amberleaf said nothing and did not touch him, just gave him a reassuring nod, and that was better than words. Almondfern was glad he was not alone, and he was glad it was not a member of his family with him. Because he would need their comfort when he got home, and it wouldn't be the same if they were here. And it was only because of Amberleaf that he ate. The younger tom hunted for them both, dropping prey in front of Almondfern, and he ate it because Amberleaf would watch him. He also knew better than to waste prey or his clanmate's efforts.
It took several long, quiet days to get here, and part of Almondfern wanted to ask if this was what it had been like when Amberleaf had helped take Flintfur, but he did not. It was rude and invasive, and if Amberleaf wanted to talk about it, he would have said something.
Almondfern kept the sling close, not wanting to lose Mistkit, and they kept watch for Unseen. They encountered two rainfalls on the journey, but no Unseen, and it was... Peaceful. He didn't know what else to call it. But, eventually, they got to their destination, and Almondfern's heart was twisting.
They were greeted by cats from the other clans- Civetbeak and Quailpaw were here as firewatchers right now, the apprentice having begged to go, but they must have been further in the caves. First, there was confusion about where the body was. Then a sense of sadness spread through the cats; the death of a kit was something all the clans could mourn with a better understanding together.
They were lead into the caves and Almondfern was surprised to see Softflight here, but he did have to admit, he was grateful for her company. He didn't know the rest of these cats well. They were allowed to rest and Almondfern left Mistkit's body wrapped in the sling, trying to delay things, but he couldn't. He had to give Mistkit's body to the fire, and not delay it.
Amberleaf came back with a bundle of flowers in his jaws, daisies that were cheerful and white, and Almondfern thanked him. They all gathered on the edge of the fire pit, the heat incredible, and Almondfern wanted to say something. He really did. But he couldn't think of anything.
"Starclan, take care of him." he said, eventually, a prayer, a demand, an order.
He gently eased Mistkit from the sling and took a deep breath, gently nuzzling the little, cold body.
"I loved you, little kit. I love you. I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to live. But you are loved. You are precious to me." he whispered, tears slipping down his muzzle.
Then he gave Mistkit to the flames, and he and Amberleaf scattered the daisies in after.
Almondfern didn't mean to, but he turned and buried his head in Amberleaf's shoulder, sobbing, and he felt Amberleaf flinch. He backed off immediately, backed away from the scorching heat of the flames and curled up, crying again. Softflight curled up with him, and the others quietly went further into the caves.
Softflight said nothing, just curled against him and groomed his ears gently, comfortingly. Almondfern curled into her and swallowed, mourning again, wishing that Mistkit had a least had a chance. Wishing that he had not been abandoned for whatever reason, or that he had found him sooner or...
Eventually, Softflight and Civetbeak got him up. They took him to the nests where the firewatchers slept, and he curled up, his heart no lighter than before.
Amberleaf settled in the nest nearest him, and, eventually, Almondfern spoke.
"Amber?" he said softly, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah?" Amberleaf said.
"Thank you for coming with me. I couldn't... I don't think I would have made it here without you." he said, swallowing.
"You're welcome." Amberleaf said, and said nothing else.
They would spend the night, and, in the morning, they would head back. Right now, all Almondfern wanted to do was stay in the nest. And when Softflight curled up with him for the night, he pressed close to her, resting his chin on her shoulder, eventually drifting off to sleep.
5/4/2026-5/9/2026
Flowers used:
Daisy- Innocence, often used to represent children and at funerals for them.
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Congratulations to the new warriors, and the new mothers. May they have many happy years in their futures. Perhaps Bluffblaze or Cindershade will be available for kitsitting now, hehe.
The kittypet that a questing trio found back in moon 52 has made a recovery, and joined the clan as Pinkiepelt. Icejay keeps eyeing him from a distance, maybe there's something going on between them?
Pikachupelt has an ominous dream, and tells Storklily about it, who is ruffled to say the least. With how the last medicine cat's meeting went, this could mean bad things are on their way.
Lastly, Burdockbee continues to get.... weirder. Since the last moon, he has grown lethargic, sick, and plumper. He seems to have come out of his shell a bit too, wanting to spend his free time with Crookedneedle, chatting or trying to cuddle. What could be wrong with him?
Year 3 of DaisyClan commences. This is about to be the wildest year yet...
Some points of order:
Pebblebounce could not clearly remember what herb he dreamt of.
Mushroompoppy did recognise the new kits' deceased mother as a former RueClan clanmate of hers - not just that, but a childhood friend. Her name was Warblersong.
