#nettlecloud

She was barely managing to breathe on her own. The pained, raspy, drawn-out inhales were followed by exhales that always sounded like they would be her last. Sometimes she would pause for a moment too long, distressingly still, before repeating the cycle. Every single breath was agonizing to listen to in the quiet of the night.

Rushroot sat with one golden paw on the senior’s shoulder, where he felt like it would hurt her the least to be touched, scanning her with his eyes. The cancer had spread out rapidly – her chest and belly, shrinking despite her appetite, had grown several hard lumps over the course of a week. He didn’t have to be a healer to guess that it was, internally, choking the life out of her lungs and heart. It was a miracle that she was still alive at all.

“Stars help her,” someone said softly.

Rushroot looked up and blinked. Minnowpounce, a grey-brown-and-white queen, was somehow awake despite her newborn litter taking up so much of her time during the day. She certainly looked sleepy, but her eyes were deeply sad. She had bonded quickly with Nettlecloud soon after she had come to live with the Buzzards while her sons were off doing… something. Rushroot couldn’t help a twinge of anger that they hadn’t come back in the past few days to see their mother.

“Indeed,” he said. He returned his attention to his patient, noting silently that her droopy, thick fur had thinned out and become a little coarse in correlation with the lumps. “I don’t know how long she has. She could be gone by the morning.”

“I hope not.” Minnowpounce shuffled and one of her kits complained with a squeak. “At least, not before her sons get to say goodbye.”

“Wherever they are,” Rushroot muttered. “It’s a marvel they’re not here.”

“The Clast camp isn’t even that far away,” Minnowpounce agreed. “They could afford a visit.” She paused, then added quietly, “If whatever was happening isn’t holding them up.”

Rushroot remembered it, a couple days back – the screams and yowls, carried by the breeze from the direction of the settlement. It had cut off as suddenly as it started, absorbed by the drumbeat of rain and cackle of thunder. Several Scattered cats had walked by their nesting ground and asked if anyone knew what was going on. No one was bold enough to walk right into the most aggressive family’s home after what sounded like a massive fight and snoop around.

“They’ll come, I’m sure,” Minnowpounce said after a moment, “but they need to come soon.”

Rushroot hummed discontentedly, eyes now roaming aimlessly through the nighttime landscape. “We might have to send someone to go get them, if they don’t…”

He paused and squinted. Something, some dark shape, was just barely visible on the horizon.

“What?” Minnowpounce yawned. “Don’t tell me they’re here as we speak.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Rushroot stood up. “Unless they’ve brought friends.”

Minnowpounce sounded concerned now. “Who is it, then?”

Rushroot did not have long to answer that question; in a few moments, the shape grew and spread out into four cats, all running straight for the Buzzard’s temporary camp. At the lead was a tortoiseshell, only visible by the moonlight striking the ginger parts of her fur.

The sounds of rustling grass and heavy footsteps was stirring the rest of the cats behind Rushroot. Minnowpounce was already whispering to their comrades that someone was approaching. Nettlecloud’s breath quickened. Rushroot looked down at her; her eyes were half opened and strained with the effort. He purred quietly to her and raised his head, walking forward to greet the tall newcomers.

“Late for a history lesson,” he remarked. His confusion and alarm raised when he caught the scent of the Fleet off of these cats – and by the size of them, they were all patrollers.

“Sorry to disturb y’all tonight,” the tortoiseshell said. “My name is Newtbite. We’ve come here on order from Fernstar and our deputy.”

The whispering stopped and the air grew tense.

Rushroot kept calm and polite. “I don’t know why. We haven’t got anyone here causing trouble.”

“I would hope not,” Newtbite said, “and that’s why we’re here. The brothers Greyleaf and Mistface are…”

She trailed off, seeming to notice Nettlecloud weakly attempting to raise her head.

“This is their mother?” Newtbite asked, suddenly sounding nervous.

“She is.” Rushroot gently placed a paw on Nettlecloud’s head. “Easy now.”

Newtbite cleared her throat awkwardly. “If you could come with me for a moment…”

Rushroot hesitated only long enough to glance back at the rest of the Buzzards, who were all watching him anxiously. He nodded reassurance and turned back to Newtbite. She turned and gestured with her tail for him to follow her. As he did, one of the patrollers, a calico missing a good deal of her tail, was approaching Nettlecloud and politely inquiring about her health.

Newtbite stopped when they were out of hearing range of the others and turned. She stood tall over Rushroot, but she lowered her head to his level and spoke quietly.

“I told the others to avoid sayin’ this in front of her,” she murmured. “Her sons are wanted by the leaders. Greyleaf was a co-conspirator in a rebel group and he and his partner ran when we came to inspect. They took Mistface with them, along with some others. All of them are to be arrested on sight.”

Rushroot’s mouth dropped open. He stared at Newtbite, unable to find a response.

“The reason we’re here,” she continued, “is because we suspect they may come around this way to nab Nettlecloud and take her with them, wherever they’re goin’. We’re to stand guard and prevent them from leavin’ with her. Or leavin’ at all.”

“That-“ Rushroot fumbled for words. “That can’t be right. They’re both good toms.”

“So Fernstar thought,” Newtbite said, with a cynical chill in her voice. “But here we are. And now me and my crew need to stay here and keep an eye on Nettlecloud. I hate to spring this on you, and I do apologize for the inconvenience. But orders are orders.”

Rushroot couldn’t find anything to say. He looked back at his group, then back to Newtbite.

“I…” He, again, struggled for a response. “I suppose they are. Just, please, don’t ever mention this in front of Nettlecloud. She’s… she’s not doing well, and I can’t let her die knowing her sons are in trouble. They’re everything to her.”

Newtbite nodded, eyes sympathetic. “That’s the plan. We’ll keep our mouths shut. We’ll be out of your way as much as possible, too. No need to worry about feeding us or being bossed around.”

“Thank you.” Rushroot huffed a sigh. It didn’t make him feel any better. “I’ll… I’ll inform everyone else.”

He turned and trotted unsteadily back to the group, Newtbite close behind him. Everyone was awake now and very worried. Nettlecloud’s head wobbled as she looked back and forth.

“Is something wrong?” she rasped, having to take a breath between words.

“Nothing big, ma’am,” Newtbite said quickly. “We’ve just heard reports of a predator around, and we were asked to stand guard and keep y’all protected until you’re ready to move on.”

Rushroot did not miss the double meaning of that statement.

“Ah…” Nettlecloud rattled out, and lowered her head again. “Kind of you, dears.”

The other patrollers stood together, looking deeply uncomfortable. Newtbite approached them and said something Rushroot didn’t catch. He himself turned to the rest of the Buzzards and forced calmness.

“We can discuss this in the morning,” he said. “But they mean no harm. Go back to sleep.”

The Buzzards exchanged glances, but they did as he said, eyeing the patrollers as they curled back up. Rushroot sat down beside Nettlecloud again, continuing his purr until her breath steadied and slowed, and he was sure she was asleep. He met Newtbite’s eyes and nodded curtly. She didn’t look happy to be here.

Laurelclaw was the first to greet them. He was sitting and shuffling his paws anxiously, standing up immediately upon catching sight of Mistface. It was a long minute before the brothers were close enough for it to be appropriate to actually move forward and intercept them.

“There you are!” he said brightly, and then, awkwardly, “How is Nettlecloud?”

Mistface didn’t say anything. His eyes lowered and shifted to the side.

Laurelclaw immediately deflated. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is… she’s still with us, at least?”

“For now,” Greyleaf said quietly. “I’m going to see what Redheart needs.”

Before anyone could respond, he walked right past Laurelclaw and into the Clast camp. Mistface watched him go, slowly taking in a breath and letting it out with more force than was necessary.  

Laurelclaw watched Greyleaf until he went around a house and disappeared from view. Then he leaned in and whispered to Mistface, “I thought I heard him screaming something this morning.”

“We can talk with Beetlefoot and Darkpelt about that,” Mistface murmured back. “Where are they?”

“This way.” Laurelclaw gestured with his tail for Mistface to follow him and padded off. Mistface, not paying much attention, followed silently.

The two went around a house to the right of the stone clearing – not so far that they were conspicuously hiding, but far enough that the activity in camp would not let someone easily stumble upon a secret conversation. Darkpelt and Beetlefoot were waiting at the house’s back wall with several pieces of prey.

“He’s back,” Laurelclaw announced, unnecessarily.

“About time, too.” Darkpelt lowered herself down and sprawled out in the growing shade. “Laurelclaw insisted on waiting for you before we ate.”

Beetlefoot said nothing. He merely scanned Mistface with his eyes, seemed to understand the situation immediately, and nodded stiffly. Somehow, the motion perfectly conveyed a silent message of sympathy. Mistface nodded back, hoping he could show some appreciation the same way.

“You’re awfully quiet, fluffy.” Darkpelt grabbed a leg of her rabbit and started tugging at it, speaking through her teeth. “The old girl die today?”

“No,” was all Mistface said, but the single word was enough of a warning that Darkpelt didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, she pulled the leg off and started chewing at the haunch. The toms pulled their own prey closer to them and started eating in silence.

Half a minute passed before Darkpelt’s ears swiveled back and forth and she motioned for everyone to huddle closer, her voice quiet. “Laurelclaw mentioned he heard you arguing with Greyleaf before you left.”

“Wasn’t really arguin’.” Mistface absentmindedly peeled away from of the fur off of his ground squirrel. “He burst outta nowhere and got upset for a moment. Redheart’s feedin’ him some dangerous thoughts and it all terrifies him.”

He went over the conversation in detail, feeling the entire time like he was betraying his brother’s trust (which, really, he was, even if it was for a good cause). Laurelclaw and Beetlefoot exchanged concerned looks as Mistface described the sudden change in Greyleaf’s entire body as he shouted about the safety of the Territory (or lack thereof).

“That’s not like him at all,” Beetlefoot said when the story was concluded. “It must be Redheart’s influence. He may be nervous, but as long as I’ve known him, he’s been sensible.”

“Same here,” Mistface replied. “Point of fact, he’s been smarter than me for our whole lives. I don’t know how some deputy can make him… well…”

“Frightened,” Laurelclaw finished, looking empathetically unhappy. “He’s scared. I thought that yelling sounded angry, but…”

Darkpelt said nothing. Her ears were perked and her blind eyes were, unusually, slightly narrowed. She was almost frowning, looking deep in thought. Mistface took the opportunity to continue eating, not that he wanted to. Recalling his brother’s face in that moment made his stomach tense.

There was another round of silence before Mistface finally looked up at Darkpelt. “You got somethin’?”

“Almost,” Darkpelt said, back to that rare seriousness. “I was informed before this mission that Greyleaf suffers from anxiety and regular nightmares.”

“Ever since I can remember, yes.”

“Even with that, he’s very intelligent,” Darkpelt continued, eyes narrowed further. “Skilled healer, and, like you boys said, sensible. Never pulled a stupid move in his life, graduated apprenticehood quicker than usual because of his skill.”

“Right.” Mistface tilted his head a little. “Where is this goin’?”

“Almost the exact same things have been said about Redheart.” Darkpelt’s tail tapped the ground in a steady rhythm. “Incredibly intelligent, perfect deputy material, graduated early, been described to me as practical and sensible.” She looked up in Mistface’s direction, nearly squinting, like she was trying to see something in pitch black shadow. “Suffered nightmares since she was an apprentice.”

Mistface blinked in surprise.

Laurelclaw leaned closer, voice hushed conspiratorially. “There’s a connection, then, somehow.”

“It could be anything,” Beetlefoot muttered, just as quiet. “A coincidence, or that sort of personality is drawn to itself. She could be lying to him about everything, and he trusts that she’s right because he's with a similar person as him.”

“Greyleaf ain’t stupid,” Mistface said shortly. “And that’d be a mighty strong coincidence.”

“What I want to find out,” Darkpelt mused, “is how they came to know about each other in the first place. That’s important.”

“Isn’t she in the running for becoming a high deputy?” Beetlefoot scowled, sounding disappointed in Redheart for not following her potential. “She could have heard about him or met him when she visited the leaders.”

“She’s visited them twice, and Greyleaf could’ve easily been gone during those times,” Darkpelt said. “Usually, the leaders come to cats that they see potential in. It’s a testing sort of thing. They want to see the deputy in their natural environment, among common cats like us.”

“Sealstar said something like that to me before,” Laurelclaw piped up. “He said that the best way to know if someone can replace a leader is if they treat the cats beneath them as if they’re on the same level or even above the deputy.” He paused, then smiled a little. “And if they’re the type to not be trying to get into that position to begin with – just wanting to serve their charges.”

“Which fits Redheart perfectly,” Darkpelt said. “We’ve seen that for ourselves. Which-“ she tilted her chin down, emphasizing the word “-means that she wouldn’t have much time, need or opportunity to meet and get to know Greyleaf, all that way, away from her family. Mistface, you said that you saw them talking at the Coterie.”

“I did.” Mistface narrowed his eyes a little himself, thinking. “They seemed like they knew each other. Leastwise, a mite bit. Greyleaf didn’t look nervous around her at all.”

“So how did they come to be familiar enough that they’re teaming up on this plot and talking so easily?” Darkpelt’s voice dropped to an intense whisper. “What is their connection? How do they know each other?”

No one responded. They were all looking at each other for answers, both puzzled and grave.

“We should send for the leaders,” Beetlefoot said at last. “They could tell us if Redheart and Greyleaf have met before. And we’re going to run out of time very soon to stop anyone from leaving.”

“Not yet.” Darkpelt turned to him now. “We don’t have enough information. We don’t know when they plan to leave, if it comes to fruition at all, and there’s more to this story than we’ve been told. I doubt the leaders will know about it.”

“Then…” Laurelclaw tilted his head. “We just wait? Isn’t that risky?”

“Our job is to find out everything we can,” Darkpelt replied. “And we haven’t done that yet. My instincts – which are never wrong, may I say – they’re telling me that something’s missing. And I intend to find that out before I let the leaders make their move.”

Mistface gave her a stern look, which he hoped she could feel. “You shouldn’t let your curiosity and, may I say, ego distract you from your task.”

Darkpelt didn’t look even slightly offended. “I prefer knowing everything I can before I make a move. Believe me, as a professional spy, it’s dangerous to just say ‘that’s good enough’ and leave. Lives can be lost if you ignore or miss something.”

Mistface blinked slowly. “Didn’t know you care about other lives.”

“Mistface,” Laurelclaw warned, sounding afraid to even say it.

Again, barely a visible response from Darkpelt. “I’m not always a twat, if you can believe it. Especially when it comes to doing my job right.”

Mistface said nothing.

“Now-“ Darkpelt’s voice returned to its normal volume and she pawed for her rabbit, pulling it even closer to her. “Enough gab. I’m still hungry, and it’ll be time to sleep soon. I want to eat and get a good nest.”

Mistface looked down at his squirrel, hardly noticing it through the haze of his thoughts. Getting to spend time with his mother today was barriered behind the ideas and questions presented to him just now, and the outburst from Greyleaf. It was more thinking than he had ever done in his life, and it was already wearing him out.

He blinked back to reality when Laurelclaw gently nudged him and whispered, “Are you okay?”

Mistface took a moment to consider his response before saying quietly, “I’ll live.”

Laurelclaw’s face wrinkled even more in concern, but he nodded and returned to his food. “Well, if you need to talk, I’m here."

“If anyone can get anything out of him, it’s you,” she said. “I trust you can convince him to leave his duties for a bit.”

And he could, very well, but Mistface played it carefully. He drifted near the den Greyleaf was most often in, listening carefully to the conversations inside, searching for an opportunity to get his brother alone.

In his observation, he marveled at how his brother behaved. He still sounded anxious about talking at all, but his voice had grown a little stronger and he had a bit of authority in how he talked to his patients. Even more astonishing was that these cats listened to him, replying to his orders to rest or clean their wounds with the same obedient affirmations that they gave to Redheart. In fact, they seemed to appreciate him better than their deputy. Mistface couldn’t help feeling a spark of happiness for Greyleaf finally getting the respect he deserved.

Still, he had a job to do.

It took half a week before there was a lazy day, and Greyleaf finally emerged from the den for the morning. He was surprised when he turned his head and caught sight of Mistface waiting for him, but he looked happy to see him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I’d get to talk to you more, but…”

“You got time for a walk?” Mistface asked.

Greyleaf’s brow creased a little as he thought. Then he relaxed his face and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Vireoberry’s here, I guess he can cover it if he needs to.”

Mistface tapped his brother’s tail with his own and gestured. “Come along, then.”

It was a misty day, but it was a beautiful sort of mist – the kind that turned everything pale and vague, that caught the sunlight above trying to get through and spread it across the ground, leaving a half-rainbow to walk through. Sure, it was a little damp, but cold and wet had never bothered cats with as long and thick of fur as these brothers.

Mistface, walking, breathed in the air, catching the scent of fresh earth and wet grass. He looked sideways and caught Greyleaf smiling.

“I love the living years,” he remarked quietly. “You never get to see anything like this in cold times.”

“Fog don’t count?” Mistface said.  

“It’s not as pretty.” Greyleaf’s tail curled and uncurled as he looked around. He seemed more relaxed than he had been since Mistface had arrived. “Fog never makes you feel like you’re going to see Brume come by. It’s more like there’s a giant or something waiting for you somewhere in the dark.”

Mistface made a noise of acknowledgement. He didn’t disagree.

The pair took their time, ambling along without direction until they came across a stream and decided to follow it a bit. They didn’t say anything of great gravity – just conversed about the different cats in Clast and the prey tasting so much better here in the center of the valley, and so on. Mistface felt that this was just as important as something like discussion on the mission or Redheart’s goal. Small moments were much more precious to him than serious talks about the future or world-shattering revelations.

“…and I get actual praise,” Greyleaf was saying. “It’s crazy. They like me here. I mean, I’m sure some don’t, but it’s so different from wandering around the rest of the Territory. You know how they all sneeze at my rank.”

“Mm.” Mistface lifted his nose to stare at a shiny patch of mist, keeping his tone  light and casual. “Mama misses you.”

“Oh.” Greyleaf’s voice dropped to near-silence. “Right. I…I should go see her.”

“You should,” Mistface said, his eyes sliding to his brother’s direction. “Last time I went, she was tired. Real tired. She doesn’t know how much time she has left.”

Greyleaf shuddered so violently that Mistface forgot his façade of coolness and turned his head in surprise. Greyleaf’s feet were shaking as he walked.

“Brother?” Mistface ventured.

Greyleaf’s eyes were wet. “Not much time at all, then, if she’s willing to say that out loud. We…we need to go as soon as we can, and bring her here.”

He stopped suddenly and turned to Mistface, eyes wide and brimming with fear. “Please… please come with us. You and Mama and those cats you hang out with. We can all leave together. It’ll be better out there, I promise.”

Mistface had not considered what he would do if Greyleaf was really going away, nor if he was going to join him. The answer was obvious, but the question still caught him off guard.

“I’ll go anywhere you go,” he said softly, “but I don’t think Mama can make that journey.”

Greyleaf whimpered a sob and started walking again, a little faster than before, head hanging. “We- we can carry her. We’ll carry her ourselves.”

“Greyleaf-“

“I’ll drag her. I don’t care.” Greyleaf’s voice shook, but he didn’t look back. “She can’t die here. I can’t let her die here.”

“Why not?” Mistface raised his volume, but not the temper in his words. “She’s comfortable where she is, she just wants us there with her.”

“You don’t get it,” Greyleaf muttered, sounding like he was talking to himself. “You just don’t get it. And how could you?”

“You ain’t makin’ it easy to get anythin’.” Mistface followed at a quicker pace. “Why are you doin’ this? Leavin’ everythin’ you know behind… leavin’ a place as safe as this-“

“It is not – SAFE!” Greyleaf whirled around and stopped Mistface in his tracks, bristling to twice his size. “IT’S NEVER BEEN SAFE HERE!”

Mistface stared, leaned back a little, one paw lifted in alarm. Greyleaf’s back was arched and his tail, larger than it had ever been, stuck straight out. His face was nightmarish, with bulging, wild eyes, wrinkled brow and muzzle, and bared teeth like a rabid coyote. He was breathing heavily, like it was taking everything he had to stand still and not charge or flee.

They stood there, facing each other, wrapped in mist, completely silent except for Greyleaf’s near hyperventilation. Mistface’s fur was slightly raised on his back and his ears were folded against his skull. An outsider would have thought the two were about to fight.

A long moment stretched on – so long that Mistface had no idea how much time passed – before Greyleaf’s jaw jittered, like he wanted to speak. The wildness turned to horror and fear in his eyes. Abruptly, he shut his mouth, swallowed, and turned his head away, still breathing hard through his nose.

Mistface forced his fur to relax. He spoke as gently as he could. “Greyleaf, please tell me what’s goin’ on. Why do you want to leave so badly?”

Greyleaf tried to laugh, but it came out as a choking noise sounding like he was bordering on deranged. “You- you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I know you ain’t a liar,” Mistface said.

“No, but you’ll think I’m crazy.” Greyleaf looked back at him. That terror was still there in his eyes. “Just- trust me. We’re better off away from here. Infinitely better.”

Mistface stood straight and met his brother’s eyes, trying to exhibit a bit of sternness despite the worry and alarm tightening his chest. “You ever plan to tell me anythin’ about this?”

Greyleaf took in a shaky breath. “When we’re out of the Territory. When we can’t be reached.”

“Reached?” Mistface tilted his head. “By the leaders?”

“By anything,” Greyleaf said. “It’s not safe until we’re away.”

Something very small, something very slight and weak and faint, tapped a claw against the back of Mistface’s mind. He had a moment of awareness, and then – there it went, away, and he lost the thought. He tried to get it back, but in a moment he had forgotten entirely what it was.

Greyleaf took the pause to shiver, force his fur down, and slowly approach his brother again like he was a frightened animal coaxed into taking food from a stranger. “I’ll come and visit Mama with you. I’ll go tomorrow- I’ll go now, if you want. Right now. I can see her. I’ll do it.”

Mistface raised a paw as a gesture for his brother to relax. “Anyone we need to alert before we leave?”

“I’ll tell Redheart,” Greyleaf said, a little calmer now. “She’s the only one that needs to know.”

“Then let’s do it.” Mistface offered a smile that would best be reserved for scared kittens and nervous queens. Greyleaf managed to smile back, and it looked only half-forced.

They wasted no time in finding the deputy, who immediately approved their departure and sent them off. The hour walk was entirely silent, but comfortable, as it always had been between them. Mistface watched in relief as Greyleaf’s nervousness in his body gradually decreased until he was walking with the same composure as his brother.

Nettlecloud was sitting on a mound of dirt when they arrived, eyes shut in bliss and nose raised to sniff at the pearly mist and whatever scents it might carry. Her ear twitched at their footsteps and she looked over. Immediately, her fading eyes were bright again and she wobbled to her feet, coming to greet them.

“I did get a blessing after all,” she said, licking Greyleaf’s forehead. “Brume brought my boys to me.”

Greyleaf gently rested his chin on Nettlecloud’s back (and she seemed so much smaller than him now). “I’m sorry I haven’t been by, Mama. Mistface had to get me to leave my post.”

Mistface touched his nose to his mother’s. “How are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mama-!“ Greyleaf and Mistface immediately started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Laurelclaw was a little lost.

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

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

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

“You there!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, but- see-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Littlepaw, who are you talking to?”

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

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

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

“Hello,” Laurelclaw said meekly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh- no, I’m just-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Firestripe faltered for a moment. “Well…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mistface's front legs wobbled.

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

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

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

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

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

Laurelclaw and Darkpelt had wanted to stay longer. The former’s desire to do so was unsurprising, given his friendly nature. Meanwhile, Darkpelt had practically flaunted Mistface with her gleeful refusal to specify a reason.

Mistface and Beetlefoot chatted with some of the countless cats attending the Gathering for a little while longer. However, Beetlefoot quickly exhausted his desire to socialize and Mistface was happy to stop when the shorter tom decided to. After that, the pair mostly hung around together at an agreed meeting spot until the other two returned. 

Finally, Darkpelt returned, and Laurelclaw did as well soon after.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the large tom apologized sheepishly when he saw that everyone else had already gathered at the meeting spot near the bramble patch.

Darkpelt stood up with an exaggerated stretch and yawn, tilting her head towards the general direction of his voice with a wide grin afterwards. “In the time we waited for you to arrive, Redheart already took her rowdy bunch off to not-even-Starclan-knows-where. The mission is a failure thanks to you, Laurelclaw. Think of those poor, innocent Clast kits and apprentices we could’ve saved if you’d just shown up sooner.”

To Mistface’s surprise, Laurelclaw actually chuckled a little at that. He half-expected the tom to double down on his apologies.

Beetlefoot, meanwhile, seemed entirely unamused by the joke. With a flick of his tail, he stated,“We should get going. Fernstar told us to head back to where Mistface lives.”

The molly, still maintaining that grin of hers, asked teasingly,”My my, aren’t we in a hurry?”

The messenger narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, we are,” the tom stated curtly. Quickly and decisively, he turned towards the direction that he and Mistface came from to reach the Gathering. “This way,” Beetlefoot added as he briskly began to head off.

This reaction only seemed to serve to amuse Darkpelt. As Beetlefoot trotted off, the rest of the group followed. Mistface wondered to himself whether the messenger had determined the correct direction to head in while waiting or if he was just that fast at picking it out.

As the group escaped the large crowd of the Gathering, Mistface thought rather unenthusiastically about the fact that he had to introduce more cats to Nettlecloud when he got back. At least he’d met Laurelclaw before today and the tom was nice enough, but Mistface dreaded the idea of Darkpelt trying to get under Nettlecloud’s skin as soon as she could.

Breaking the group’s silence, Mistface spoke up,”While we’re headin’ over there, I want to mention that I’d like y’all to be nice to my mother. Especially with her bein’ sick, I’d rather her not be overwhelmed by anyone.”

Laurelclaw nodded agreeably. “I’ll do my best!” 

Darkpelt, meanwhile, turned her gaze in Mistface’s direction and mentioned casually yet knowingly,”Oh, he didn’t mean you, Laurelclaw.”

Mistface said nothing. 

The molly continued, in a more serious tone,”Speaking of that, remember what Fernstar said before she left. It’s for the best if we don’t tell Nettlecloud about the mission.”

“Right,” Mistface responded. That was the other part he wasn’t looking forward to. He hated keeping secrets from his family, and now he had to with both Nettlecloud and Greyleaf. At least he didn’t feel as bad hiding things from Greyleaf now when his brother keeping secrets of his own. But that wasn’t so much the case with Nettlecloud.

After a brief pause in the discussion, Laurelclaw spoke up tentatively,”Is it just your mother that you live with, Mistface?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been livin’ with her. Greyleaf too, before he became a healer for the leaders.” Mistface glanced over to the larger tom as he walked. “Given you’re from Plage, you’re probably not so used to smaller groups, right?”

“Yeah,” Laurelclaw confirmed with a nod. “I knew that Scattered cats tended to live with less cats than in the major groups, but it’s easy to forget just how few.” He paused for a moment, and then something seemed to occur to him. “Oh! What groups are you from, Darkpelt and Beetlefoot? I know you’re probably both more focused on your respective jobs now, but I’m kind of curious.”

“Brae,” came Beetlefoot’s short and unenthusiastic response. Mistface could tell that Darkpelt would take note of the messenger’s apparent dislike of his own group, and it was only a matter of when she decided to bring it up.

However, the lanky molly didn’t comment on it yet. “I’m from Versant, myself.”

Mistface recalled that those two groups in particular had the most tension between them. Both of them claimed ties to Slopeclan from when there were multiple clans, though Brae members denounced Versant’s lack of adherence to tradition. He half-wondered if Darkpelt had only said she was from Versant to try and get on Beetlefoot’s nerves, or at least test if it would.

Beetlefoot, however, did not seem to care about her being from Versant, based on his lack of a reaction.

Eventually, the group reached Mistface’s home. At the sight of her son and the rest of the group, Nettlecloud seemed to perk up. Slowly, the older molly stood up and walked over, dipping her head in greeting.

Mistface greeted his mother,”Mama, I’m back from the Gathering. I brought a couple of friends with me.”

With a smile, Nettlecloud responded,”I’m glad that you’ve been makin’ a few friends, love! It’s been so long since the last time you’ve done that before Beetlefoot.”

Beetlefoot didn’t appear entirely sure about the statement that he and Mistface were friends, but didn’t protest it, either.

If he didn’t have more self control, Mistface’s ears would probably have been pressed back against his skull in embarrassment right about then. 

With a wide grin Darkpelt mentioned all too cheerfully,”Glad we could help get your son out of his shell.”

With more genuine friendliness, Laurelclaw spoke up,”It’s nice to meet you, Nettlecloud. I’m Laurelclaw, and this is Darkpelt.” He indicated the molly with his tail as he introduced her. “I met Mistface during the coterie gathering, and it was nice to see him again!” 

“I’m happy you two could stop by,” Nettlecloud replied. 

“Oh, that brings me to something important, Mama,” Mistface began to explain. “You see, the reason they’re here is more than just a visit.” He soon began to wish he’d thought more on what exactly to tell her, but did his best to improvise. “They’d both been meanin’ to head over to Clast, and I learned at the Gathering that Greyleaf is over in that area.”

Nettlecloud thoughtfully tilted her head a little. With some concern in her tone, she asked,“Did you learn why he’s gone over there, dear? It’s not the safest of places.”

Mistface shifted into a sitting position, mostly to give himself a moment to figure out a reply without letting the pause seem unnatural. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “Phoebestar only knew what happened, not why. The reason she called us over to the Gathering was to let us know what was goin’ on and request we check in on him. Make sure there’s nothing he’s too nervous to tell the leaders or anything.”

He felt relieved when Nettlecloud seemed to believe him. “I’d certainly want to make sure he’s alright. Though, I’m afraid I may not be up to it, physically speaking.”

Mistface responded,”I was worried about that as well, Mama.” That much was true, at least. “Luckily, it sounds like the Vultures are stayin’ in an area between here and Clast. If you think you’re up for travellin’ there, I could go all the way and check in on Greyleaf, and if he’s stayin’ around Clast, you’d be close by.”

Laurelclaw offered,”And I could help you out with getting there, if you’d like.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nettlecloud said to Laurelclaw with a grateful smile. Turning back to Mistface, she added,”I think I’d be up for that.”

“We can set out tomorrow,” Darkpelt stated. “Starting to go somewhere else after a full day at the Gathering would be unwise.”

Nettlecloud nodded, and then a thought seemed to occur to her. “Mistface, would you be up to hunt a bite to eat for our guests to have?”

“Of course, Mama.” The blue-gray tom was grateful for a reason to get a moment to himself. With a dip of his head, he headed off to hunt.

As Mistface trotted through the grass, paying careful attention to the scents and sounds around him, he wondered what exactly Greyleaf was hiding from him. Well, not just him. From everyone, it seemed. Beetlefoot, Nettlecloud, and even the leaders weren’t sure about what was going on, either. It was troubling. Greyleaf was normally much more open with his family, at least. 

“I haven’t been to a proper Gathering since I was an apprentice,” Mistface finally said. “Bound to be a huge crowd.”

“There generally is,” Beetlefoot said. “Even when it’s just Fleet members.”

“I thought those were councils.”

“The councils are for seers and healers, and the higher ranks.” Beetlefoot sniffed primly. “We’re a little too low on the prey pile to count.”

Mistface hummed and trotted on in silence.

The trek was longer than the one to the coterie – they had left early before sunrise, and even at a faster pace, it took them until late in the morning to catch sight of the sea of cats in a clumsy ring of bushes and tall stones. Most of them were seated in a half-circle around the tallest of the stones, and as Mistface got closer he could see a petite ginger cat sitting on it and speaking to the crowd below her.

“Fernstar?” Beetlefoot murmured, as if asking himself to confirm.

“Looks like it could be her, from what little I know,” Mistface replied, also lowering his voice as they approached. “Fernstar’s a ginger, right?”

Beetlefoot nodded. Nothing more was said between them; they slowed to a walk when they were close enough to hear the leader’s voice.

“As such,” she was saying, “I would recommend leaving the village to itself for now. There are reasons beyond that, of course, but until…”

She had been turning her head back and forth to address everyone, but just as Mistface and Beetlefoot reached the back of the crowd, her eyes caught them and she trailed off. Before anyone could glance back at them, though, she raised her head again.

“Until we have further news, please avoid the Clast area,” she concluded. “Lightningstar, if you could continue the reports?”

From behind the stone, a golden cat leapt smoothly up and landed beside Fernstar, while she jumped down to the side and disappeared into the patch of bushes close to her.

“A good day to you all,” Lightningstar began. “We come now to the other reasons for staying away from the mid-west part of the valley, that being…”

Mistface preemptively schooled his face into neutrality instead of boredom. “Ain’t much to come all this way for. We don’t go near the Clast anyway.”

“And there’s no Phoebestar.” Beetlefoot sat up a little on his haunches, trying to look over the crowd. “Why would she invite you and not show up?”

“She’s your leader,” Mistface said. “Didn’t she tell you anything else?”

“No, just-“

“Hello!”

Beetlefoot trailed off and looked to the side, frowning deeper than usual. Mistface followed his line of sight and noticed a nearly black tabby strutting towards them. It was a molly that smelled dusty despite her pelt having a silky sheen, and she stared blankly past them with incredibly wide pupils. Mistface guessed quickly that she couldn’t see anything to begin with.

“You there, with the obnoxious accent,” she said, coming to a stop a few steps away from the pair of toms, still not actually looking at them. “I take it you’re Mistface, brother of Greyleaf?”

Mistface blinked and said hesitantly, “That’s correct.”

The molly smiled. Something about her smile was both unsettling and irritating. “Excellent. Fernstar wants a word.”

Abruptly, she turned around and started off again, her thin tail waving in the air and motioning for the toms to follow her. Beetlefoot and Mistface exchanged confused looks, but walked along behind her.

“Who are you?” Beetlefoot asked once they were a little past the meat of the crowd. “Why is-“

“Ut!” The molly lifted her head back until her nose was almost pointing behind her. “Just a moment, boys.”

Mistface narrowed his eyes, but he obeyed and said nothing. 

The molly led them towards a bramble-patch and weaved around it within whisker-length, and the bush behind it, and the bush past that. Mistface could only look around in bewilderment as they went between and around and even through the foliage. Just as he was about to ask where they were going, the molly stopped and stepped to the side, exposing a small opening in the leafage.

“Got ‘em,” she said, revealing Fernstar lying inside the opening. Beside her was a vaguely familiar face – the big white tom named Laurelclaw, who brightened up considerably when he saw Mistface.

Fernstar’s ears twitched and she coolly regarded the confused toms in front of her. “Thank you, Darkpelt.” She slowly sat up and bowed her head a little. “Mistface and Beetlefoot.”

It wasn’t a question, so Mistface didn’t answer it. He instead glanced sidelong at Laurelclaw. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

“Hi again!” Laurelclaw said, tail thumping the ground excitedly. “I could say the same.”

“Before we get to conversation…” Fernstar said, giving Laurelclaw a look that immediately clammed him up. “I’d like to explain why all of you were brought here. Come in.”

Mistface blinked slowly and didn’t move until Beetlefoot entered the makeshift den, Darkpelt behind him. He sauntered a few steps forward and sat down with his back to the entrance, his tail curled around his feet and nearly completely hiding his legs.

“Everyone here is aware that Greyleaf is Mistface’s brother, and the official healer for the leaders, yes?” Fernstar waited for them all to nod before continuing. “What some of you may not know is that he abruptly left our dens under the pretense of going to be with his mother as much as he can.”

“He didn’t show up, if that’s the case,” Mistface said.

“We know,” said Fernstar. “We sent a spy to follow him.”

Mistface opened his mouth to ask who, but his eyes drifted to the side and he looked fully at Darkpelt, who was still smiling. She winked cheekily. Mistface took a moment to wonder how a blind cat knew the precise moment to wink before Fernstar interrupted his thoughts.

“He went to Clast,” she said. “We aren’t sure why, but we have our suspicions.”

Darkpelt tilted her head up again, gazing at nothing. “There’s a whole situation going on over at the village. It’s been real hush-hush for the rest of you, but the deputy there has been inviting cats to join her and potentially leave the Territory entirely.”

Laurelclaw blinked. “When there’s predator sightings?”

Darkpelt’s head ever-so-slightly bent his way, that unpleasant smile still on her face. “Well, to be fair, that’s only half real. The leaders wanted to deter everyone from approaching Clast until we have further information on what’s happening with that deputy.”

“Redheart was chosen by me personally,” Fernstar continued. “I had assumed she had a solid head on her shoulders, and I still believe she does.”

“Dunno why,” Mistface drawled, “if she’s thinkin’ of leavin’ the Territory of all places. Where would she go?”

“That’s what we want you to find out.” Fernstar met his eyes with an even, unbothered expression. “All four of you have been called here to investigate for us. She'd be smart enough to lie if I went down myself and asked questions. I don’t want to believe that she would, but you can’t be too careful.”

Mistface regarded the leader. She was smaller than him, and did not seem that much older, but he suddenly felt like an apprentice in trouble. He had to look at the ground for a moment. “I’m not much of an investigator, ma’am, if I may say. Why not have someone who knows what they’re doin’?”

“We do.” Darkpelt looked entirely too self-satisfied. “That’s why I’m here. You’re here because your brother may be involved and we want you to spy on him.”

“He’s incredibly intelligent,” Fernstar said. “If it were anyone else following him around and keeping an eye on him, he would catch on that something was up. But if you and your mother heard he was living there, and decided to make that short trek up to the center of the valley to be with him-“

“I can’t take my mother to the Clast,” Mistface interrupted. “You must know by now that she’s very sick.”

“Lucky for you, the Vultures happen to be making a stop nearby,” Darkpelt said with a flippant flick of her tail. “They’ll be there for a while. I hear one of their own is having a litter. Perfect place for an old broad to wait out her time while her sons sneak around each other.”

Mistface bristled for perhaps the first time in his life, glaring at the blind molly. From the smirk she wore, she must have known what his reaction was.

“If-“ Laurelclaw ducked his head down and forward, just barely blocking the two other warriors from seeing each other. “I hate to interrupt, I’m very sorry, but – what about the rest of us? Why are we here?”

Fernstar looked completely apathetic about the tension emanating from Mistface. “Mistface and Darkpelt are our primary spies in this situation. You, Laurelclaw, will serve as protection for the rest of the party. A big cat like you would be expected to join the Clast, which will make things much easier for everyone else. Beetlefoot, you are our go-between – our reporter on any suspicious going-ons from Redheart or any of her followers. There are patrollers around the mid-west part of the valley looking for predators, but one specific party is on the lookout for you or any of the other three here. Information is to be passed on to them.”

Beetlefoot, surprisingly, immediately gave a jerky nod. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Fernstar looked around at the rest of them slowly before turning fully to Mistface. “We want you to be the face of the operation. We’ve heard you’re charming when you care to be. Would you be willing to use that charm for the Clan?” Her eyes very slightly narrowed. “For your brother’s safety?”

That was a cheap shot, and Mistface had quite a few sharp remarks he wanted to make. Instead, he inhaled slowly, forced himself to relax, and pretended to think deeply for a long moment. Finally, he tilted his head to one side. “I suppose I could. As long as my mother will be cared for while I’m busy.”

“She will be,” Fernstar said, and he believed her. “You are free to visit her as often as you like. Our only request is that you help us where you can. Laurelclaw, Darkpelt, you also agree to this mission?”

“Better this than running around for some random deputy with a false problem,” Darkpelt said.

“I-“ Laurelclaw cleared his throat. “I won’t have to hurt anyone, will I?”

“Most likely not,” Fernstar said. “We encourage you to avoid a fight where you can.”

Laurelclaw sighed in relief. “Then yes, I agree.”

“Excellent.” Fernstar stood up. “All of you go with Mistface to where he lives. Your mission starts tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Laurelclaw said quietly.

“Awful soon,” Mistface said, and internally groused about bringing strangers to badger his mother.

A long-haired, pale blue-grey cat watched her go from his seat on his favorite stone. The surface was flat, but it tilted up just enough to let him lay across it and still have his head high enough to see most of the valley. The dew was catching the slowly emerging sunlight and shining brightly enough that he had to squint a little to see a far-off moving shape that he could guess was a group of cats heading for the hills to the west. They were too distant for him to be able to count how many were in the troupe, but he thought that, from the size and the way they were going, they were patrollers heading for the border to keep an eye on outsiders coming in from the Hillock area.

A rustle distracted him and he twitched one ear. A series of unsteady footsteps, and he knew who it was.

“Mama still asleep?” he said, and shuffled to the side to make room for his brother.

“Mhm.” A grey tabby hopped up beside him and sat down. His lighter neck fur was sticking out in every direction and there was grass caught in it. “She looked peaceful, so I left her alone. She’s close enough that we’ll hear her if she wakes up.”

“Good.” The blue-grey tom turned and nodded at his brother’s coat. “You look a right mess, Greyleaf.”

“Oh-“ Greyleaf looked down with a paw lifted. He made a noise of frustration and started clawing at the grass. He succeeded in making his fur knotted. “I didn’t-“ He sighed and looked pleadingly at his brother. “Mistface?”

Mistface made a point not to do anything more than smile and get up. “Sit still.”

Greyleaf went motionless, hardly even blinking as Mistface went over his neck and then the rest of his pelt, which didn’t look much better.

“Sorry,” Mistface said, delicately pulling out a blade of grass. “If I’d known you were havin’ another nightmare, I would’ve woken you up.”

“Oh, no, this one wasn’t as bad.” Greyleaf hastened to look back at his brother. “I was doing a lot of running from…from something or other. I don’t remember.”

Mistface smiled to himself with a bit more cheek than before. “Was it the fear of gettin’ your accent back?”

“I’m not-“ Greyleaf started, and then spluttered. “I didn’t do that on purpose!”

“Teasin’, only teasin’.” Mistface lifted a paw soothingly. “But you did lose it soon as you went to the leaders.”

“Well…” Greyleaf gave him a scowl that was more morose than annoyed. “The northern cats really scare it out of you.”

“They will do that,” Mistface agreed, and removed the last bit of plant matter out of the neck fur. “You best get to groomin’, and well as you can, if you really gotta go today.”

“I don’t want to any more than you or Mama want me to,” Greyleaf said with a distracted lick at his chest. “It just takes two full days of walking to get there, is all. I wish I could bring you two with me, but...”

Mistface nodded with a reserved grimace. Their mother, Nettlecloud, had been steadily losing the energy to make far walks or hunt for herself over the past year. She had wanted to move in near the leader’s dens when Greyleaf was hired for the position of official healer for the heads of the Clan, but her sons had agreed that she should keep to where it was warm and relatively empty of other cats, in case the fatigue was part of something more serious that would cause trouble if she pushed her luck.

Greyleaf continued grooming, only pausing to add, “The instant anything happens, you send a messenger, alright?”

“You think I’d just leave you hangin’ if Mama got worse?” Mistface gave him a jokingly incredulous look.

Greyleaf shook his head, but just licked at the knots on his shoulder.

A trilling purr that stretched into a yawn made both brothers jump up and turn around. An aging blue-grey molly with long, drooping fur was slowly making her way towards them, one paw carefully and gracefully placed before the other.

“You boys needn’t fuss over me,” she said. Her voice was soft and slightly croaky. “Focus on gettin’ that fur back in order, love.”

Greyleaf blinked and looked over his shoulder to his back fur. “Oh- I’m nearly done, Mama.”

“And you’ll be leavin’ after that?” Mistface asked.

“Might as well.” Greyleaf turned to greet his mother. “Not that I want to, but, you know. Thornstar’s been sick lately. I’m surprised they even let me leave for a few days.”

“And without a guard to get past the Clast area,” Mistface remarked.

“You make a wide berth ‘round that place.” Nettlecloud walked closer and placed her two front paws on the edge of the stone, stretching up to rasp her tongue over Greyleaf’s tufted ear. “I’ve heard they’re bein’ particularly wild about now.”

Greyleaf smiled weakly. “I know, Mama. I’ll be okay. They wouldn’t touch a healer.”

Despite his assurance, Mistface knew that all three of them were sharing the same concerns about the Clast. They were one of the six families that populated the Territory, a vast valley surrounded by mountains and hills, touching a lake and the far-off oceanic coast on its southern and northern borders. The Clast were the most aggressive of the families, and their camp of cobblestone and strange structures called “houses” was occupied by cats that had wandered in from all over, even outside of the Clan’s land, to get into fights with strangers. There had been attempts to settle them down in the past, but even their deputies, the heads of the families, could not force peace for more than a few days.

Their politics did not concern Mistface. He, his mother and his brother were Scattered cats – those that did not belong to any group. They had lived their lives in peaceful seclusion, taking care of themselves and each other. Clast business was not their business. What concerned Mistface was his brother getting caught up in a rolling pair of fighters and being injured because of a pair of idiots not watching where they were going.

Greyleaf must have known what he was thinking, because he added, “And they’re not really as bad as you’d think. They rarely give each other lethal wounds. Mostly scratches that leave a scar at the deepest.”

“That ain’t too comfortin’, I’ll admit,” Mistface said dryly.

“I trust you,” Nettlecloud offered, with a calm but stern look at Mistface. “But please humor us and make a wide berth around the settlement, dear.”

“I will.” Greyleaf gave one last lick over his shoulder, hopped down from the stone and leaned his head against Nettlecloud’s shoulder. “You stay safe too, alright? Sleep as much as you need, but get some exercise if you can. Keep your strength up, there are some herbs down the way you can…”

He continued on, listing everything Nettlecloud should do and be careful of. Mistface held in a laugh and let his brother prattle. Even in completely relaxed situations, Greyleaf had always been nervous, especially in regards to his mother, and wanted to prepare for every situation. Mistface noticed Nettlecloud taking the opportunity to get out the leftover knots and smooth down errant hairs on Greyleaf’s sides and he couldn’t resist a chuckle.

“Right, okay.” Greyleaf cleared his throat and stepped back, taking the chuckle as a cue. “I better go.”

“You’ll eat sometime this morning?” Nettlecloud asked.

“Of course,” Greyleaf said with a nod. “I have all the best spots memorized.”

“It’s been good to see you, brother,” Mistface said. “I’m glad youre doin’ well.”

“Same here.” Greyleaf exchanged a headbump with Mistface and added to Nettlecloud, “Please be careful.”

“We both will be,” Nettlecloud promised.

Greyleaf took a shaky breath and let it out as a much steadier exhale. He straightened up and started off at a trot.

“Keep your tail high!” Mistface called. “You’re the healer for the leaders! Act like it!”

Greyleaf ducked his head with a slightly amused coughed-out sigh, but lifted his tail and continued on. Mistface and Nettlecloud shouted goodbyes and watched him go for a moment, before Mistface turned to his mother and tapped her with his own absurdly fluffy tail.